Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
nom de plume Sep 7
i've always written poetry
with the passion of a preacher to sermon.
i experience for literature feelings
which i imagine others to offer religion.

i've never been spiritual.
full stop.
my cynicism denies me wonders -
tired tale, sure, true as any other,

but poetry evokes the holy ghost
a being more skillful, more elegant,
setting my mind's eye alight with
saintly delusions of grandeur

it curls from my pen, bleeding fire into my notebook
if there is Elysium, it is in
the private Eden created between
my mind and my notebook.

if there is peace, it is in libraries,
eyes poring over words pouring over
life, utterly human life, told in a
way that is raw and violent and righteous,
connecting one's private introspections to words.

if religion has a purpose,
a redeeming quality, it is
community, connection, consistency.
God Is Always and Always Has Been and Always Will Be.

the great human collective,
the experience of poetry, of life,
the art of internal monologue,
it persists. it persists.

no, i am not spiritual -
it does a disservice to us.
it unjustly ignores the
holy human hand in our history

time is a chronicle of the messy
affairs of human choice and experience .
it seems unfair to me,
to pin all the blame on a

deux ex machina

don't give the big guy all the credit!
the exhausted masses had a hand too!
take some responsibility for
humanity's divine man-made persistence!

so, yes, i experience poetry
with the rapturous fascination
as sinner to saint -
yet there is no sin in poetry.

by nature it is a
narcissist's and hedonist's pass time.
so there is only wonder
and childlike curiosity,
and the slightest sliver of hope to move forward,
which, really,
what else is religion good for anyways?
Andrew Rueter May 28
The Christian imagination is captured
by the idea of the rapture
where Jesus comes to save us
like he shouldn’t just shame us
because no one is blameless
for this great mess.

It’s a dangerous mentality
to say our vitality
is based on morality
the rapture is that emphatically
where Jesus is battling
the forces of the ****** darkness
who are those I deem heartless.

The rapture can be Christian revenge ****
or their way of explaining this death storm
either way it prevents our best form
which is what Jesus was sent for
but now the student is the mentor
twisting words that meant more.

War is pushed to the side
it’s viewed as a sign
we’re living in the end times
like we’re in a hopeless ******
and tentacles just went by.

Nuclear proliferation
and global warming
bring them elation
for the rapture’s forming
so if the wars get gory
and match their prophetic story
they’ll practice diminished mourning.

God loves everyone individually
so it seems silly to me
what billions before us have seen
isn’t the same fate we’re deemed
why would we be
treated differently?

We must all walk through death’s door alone
I wish I could take everyone in my home
but that mentality is ******-suicide prone
yet when the comfort of company
becomes too much for me
I say quite lovingly
the rapture is coming
to drown out war drums drumming
I say the rapture is coming
to drown out more guns gunning
I say the rapture is coming
humanity’s mental growth is stunting
I say the rapture is coming.
Carlo C Gomez May 18
inner places of bijou

stone and mortar
of the exiguous me
wants the sweetest suspire
the complete rapture
to be within the maze
of you
BLT's new challenge- to write a poem using the Merriam- Webster word of the day, exiguous.
Ylzm Mar 9
The faithless believe in belief
The idolatry of his will to believe
Preyed upon by Balaam the prophet
Anointed but evil, speaks truth but lies
Promised escape when Tribulation comes
For a fake ticket, the faithless sold his soul

Does a soldier flee when war arrives?
Was not war the call he obeyed?
When sun’s hidden and moon’s fallen
Light shines most bright on darkened Earth
The Covenant is not of bread alone
But surely all shall drink the Cup too

Israel was embittered against Moses
They’re yet slaves, and their burden heavier
Pharaoh hardened, proud and defiant
Egypt ravaged by plagues and ruined
Israel ate unleavened bread and bitter herbs
Unseen, the Angel of Death passed over
Ashley Feb 6
One day.
One day, there will be a rapture.
There will be a mighty roar and the Earth will rebel against the sky
And the floodgates of hell will open.
One day, our lives so small against the dawn of life itself
Breaks upon the night destruction and Death.
One day all will be broken as we have broken the bread
And our blood will stream into a mighty ocean
That covers the sun forever
Bringing Death in its wake and Death in its part
One day the line between life and death will blur
And all will be cast in the shadow of our own actions
One day.
Ylzm Jan 23
Israel foreshadowed in Egypt
Untouched by the Plaques
Passed over by the Destroyer
Egypt broken and bowed
With strangers, Israel walked free
Handsomely ransomed, a nation is born
So shall Israel again be in the Tribulation
As light for sight and salt to taste
And again with strangers
In haste and with bitterness
Come out of the World
Raptured as the First born of God
annh Nov 2019
White nights, grey days,
Phosphorus and gin;
Graffiti-laden pavements,
Diamond rain and paraffin.

Chalk dust reveries,
Aerosols and spit;
Zero-hour freeways,
Magnetic parapets.

City high, city low,
Monoliths in drag;
Silent spaces, dwelling places,
A hoody and a bag.

Freestyle evangelists,
Salvation strikes a pose;
Train tracks, kitchen hacks,
The rapture and the snow.

'I'm laying down, eating snow/My fur is hot, my tongue is cold/On a bed of spider web/I think of how to change myself.'
- Fever Ray, Keep the Streets Empty for Me
Jay M Oct 2019
Sitting alone
To my own thoughts
One topic
Becomes thousands
Fluxing about
At the speed of sound
Memories flashing
An aching in my chest
A gripped, compressed heart

A light
Scarcely able to survive
Running out of oxygen
Flickering in and out
I walked on a tightrope
I saw another
A creature of beauty and grace
Running across their own
Then tripping
Swinging to fall,
But their feet remaining on the rope

Awestruck, I attempted to speak
Finding myself unable to utter a word
A bird unable to use its beak
Discovering a voice existed
I used it
Reached out
Made a friend
In time
A partner

Soon, I realized I was able to run across
Just as they had
Able to soar
Fall for a moment
But come back
Somehow still upon my weary feet
But given new strength and determination
A motivation
Thanks to my love

Heart beating at the speed of a jackrabbit
Cheeks the pigment of roses
Soul tied to the other end of a red thread
Feeling something so familiar
Possibly meant to be

His hair is
November tree bark
The tree I sit under
My mask thrown asunder
My true colors show brighter
As he takes me in his arms
Branches of a strong oak
Leaves softer than a kittens fur
Voice like that of a divine
Spilling symphonies into my ear
Still I sit here
With all I hold dear
Awaiting for time to pass
And for him to be near

Before my eyes
My memories dance
Take me into a trance
A vision of rapture
O what ecstasy
Moments of roses
Moonbeams pirouetting
Orchestra playing
Just for two
Under the full moon
Stars glistening in their wonder

A butterfly fluttering in my heart
The zoo escaped in my stomach
Flowers upon my face
Over them is lace
As I am in your sweet embrace

- Jay M
October 31st, 2019
I was told to write a lyric poem in my creative writing class, so I wrote one about you love. <3
TheRiverStyx Aug 2019
Dawn started in black of the midnight.
It was divine intervention.

There was no reason to maintain the fright.
A voice above said "Let's begin the ascension."

A coup de grace, much to the people's delight.
Next page