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Sabika Nov 2020
Ignoring the thoughts of warning,
I listen to praise and ridicule,
I listen to who I seem and
Not who I am or
Who I want to be.

Ignoring the thoughts of warning,
I listen to desire and shame,
I listen to the self-evident lies
That attempt to free me from blame.

Ignoring the thoughts of warning,
Ignoring the ticking of the clock.
I delude that I have time,
And that whenever I want it will stop.
And if I ask it will extend to me its hand,
And that if I only plead,
Time shall make sure that I succeed...
Somehow.

Ignoring the thoughts of warning,
I forget my inevitable destination:
A place and time where my actions can no longer be redeemed,
A place and time
Where everything is exactly how it seemed,
And my mistakes upon mistakes
Will look out to me in shame
Behind the shoulder of my thoughts of warning
Who emphasize
That I am only to blame.
Kenneth Gray Nov 2020
My mourning heart
tries to speak
comprehensible words,
But it cannot overcome
its studders and slurs
For pain and grief
intertwine
as one creation
Bursting forth - tears initiation

I take full account of my past -
A great loss
As I depreratly hang
To my hope -
In the Cross

I sit, fruitlessly,
Searching for words
to reciprocate
My pain
As I slip and stutter
And mumble in vein
This vortex of sorrow
I can hardly contain

I have to lay it all down at the feet of God
TAKE MY LIFE!
I've lost it all LORD -
EVEN MY MOTHER AND WIFE!
Take the reigns LORD -
AND CARRY MY STRIFE!

I cannot carry it any longer -
I've carried it too far
LORD you are my lighthouse -
My northern star!
You have created my heart -
Loves repertoire
Now I surrender to you LORD -
And all that you are!

LORD, please,
Carry this burden,
This heavy heart
Once and for all, LORD
Let misery depart
And never, ever again
Let us be torn apart!
Sometimes you just gotta get stuff off your chest.
Ifeoma Ogbonnaya Oct 2020
Desolate land,
Grasses once green, trees stood taller,
Empty streets, bereaved seas.

Once full of men ambitious,
Dreamers of better futures,
Seeing beyond horizons.

Desolate land,
Consumed inhabitants,
Cries for freedom,
Her children created the havoc,
Her soldiers bore the ruins.

Desolate land,
Once home to many,
High walls,
Guarded cities.

Now the streets are empty,
The wind hollers a dreary tune,
Life existing, in quiet resonance

What went wrong?

The earth swallowed up her children,
For they did not err to the warnings of mother nature, seeing the but signs looking away,
I hate to be the one who speaks of  such doom.

Alas! A man is found,
Torn and beaten yet surviving,
Surely all wasn't lost in the end.

Desolate land revived again,
What seemed like destruction,
Was man's preservation.
Dylan McFadden Oct 2020
That fateful day, It slipperily slunk,
The shrewd and crafty Beast

And with Its slithery tongue It struck
Two hearts, and hell released

A fateful day! A fateful dint!
…The Fall of the Beloved

But then and there One gave the hint
Of rescue from Above

---

That fateful day the Beast would bite
The heel of The Great King

But He, in turn, would crush Its head –
Death’s prisoners would sing:

“The fateful Day eternity told,  
Foreknown before the world!


The Lion came, brave and bold –
The Lamb slain from of old!”


---

And so, that fateful day was but
A part in the Grand Scheme

One fateful Day He’d come indeed
To ransom and redeem

That fateful Day upon a cross
He breathed His final breath:

“It is finished!” was His cry;
The death of death in death.

.
Why must love hurt so?

All you came to do
Was to save me.
You saw all of my afflictions
From up there, you seated
On your throne of eternal glory.
Beholding me, as a fragile one
Your compassion, you bestowed.

You couldn't leave me
Alone in my groaning.
I am your hand work,
And so you thought of saving me.
To redeem me unto you again, you came
Yes, you came down here for my salvation
Your compassion, you bestowed.

For many days you lived with me,
Dining and wining all years long.
You told me of many a thing about
Heavenly kingdom, where you came from
You told me great things to come also,
I was at peace knowing you
I was full with love so deep.

But then you told me you were leaving
Going on a journey faraway.
Going back home to where you came from,
To prepare a place for me, you said.
I had no idea what you meant,
Until they came, oh, they took you away
Away, right in front of me.

I was deeply troubled by what I saw
All because you love me, They wouldn't
Let you go, it's a sin to love the condemned.
Your pains from their whips,
Oh, I heard it all with my own ears.
Your sufferings did I witnessed,
With my own very eyes.

Still, you wouldn't give up on me
You looked at me, all I saw was love
But then, they screamed,
As a man possessed "to the cross"
Oh, why must love hurt so?
All because of me, you went through
A terrible ordeal.


At the cross, your feet and hands
They drove through with nails.
On your head, a thorny crown they present.
Mocked all day, you withstood it all
All for me, for my complete salvation
By your side a spear went through, your
Blood and water rushing out like many rivers.

To me you said, "it is finished" and lived
No more, you lived no more.
All I asked was "why must love hurt so?"
Your body to the ground
Your love to the grave
Your whole to be gone, in desolation
I remembered no word of you, how hopeless!

Two days gone by, there's nothing of you
Early third day morning, there's a rumor in town.
All my doors been shut, that there's
Nothing to life, but my neighbors won't
Stop knocking, whispering about.
I gave no attention, until I heard
"HE AROSE"

My bolt and nut, all swung lose
I'm going to the cross, to see the grave.
Your body I find not, nor your love in the mud
Unto me, my life returns
And my soul relieved.
Seeing you face to face, now I know
Why love hurt so.
Jesus died for me to have eternal life.
preston Oct 2020
the forming of substance 06
Stephan W

the true nature of the beast

~
It  c h o se
to consider itself
made complete--
in its own self--  apart
from relationship,
from connection..
a p a rt  from   a n y
attachment to glory

And so,
it found itself
from with-inside itself
made complete

in its own,  utter incompleteness.


~  ~
Beings-- created for
growth- back in to into glory
were built to be
made complete
and so it roams
the face of the Earth--
looking for ways to
complete itself..
an attachment.


~  ~  ~
Life, in itself
has a built-in safeguard
hedge of protection
in every-thing on Earth.

But we,
who have undergone
severe trauma
at a young age
have had that  h e d ge
torn from us
as the  d i s m em b e r i ng
of our souls took place--
and so that which roams
searching for its
addiction--
for its attachment...
then finds.

  and then attaches

lying to itself each
time--
that it can gain
t h e   f i x
the indwelt-access-
back into perfection--
the one for it
that never-was
that never will-be--
its way back into glory.

It knows that,
so it attaches
with a vengeance.


~  ~  ~  ~

You, quisling--
only the power of
deception do
you have, ******.
You do not grieve
the loss of eternity--
because, for you-
it is unobtainable. ******
You do not feel the need
for Redemption
because, you  o n ly
know the word contempt.
And yet, wholly
unable to feel self-contempt,
you only know one action--

d e v o u r.

We will transcend
your attachment

your usury..

       your devouring--

Gnawing our bodies away from our spirits..
  a   d i s m e m b e r i ng--

making us believe
that is all we have ever known;
And making our bodies
a d d i c t ed  to you-
in whatever form
that may be
as if they were
built for nothing
but  y o u--

to prop up your own emptiness.


We will  f i l l  back up
with Love.


    And then you'll be the one
    who will be ******.
    ******


Love transcends all things..
even death's attachment

03/19/17
The Dybbuk Sep 2020
Forged in suffering,
and quenched by discipline,
we become strong.
A wall of swords is built
at the limits of our minds;
sometimes, we ***** ourselves,
and tumble headfirst into the
desolation of sleep.
It is no matter.
Venus will disarm Mars,
the blades will turn to roses,
a crown of blooming thorns;
entrancingly beautiful,
and twice as deadly.
Elicia Hurst Sep 2020
A summer dress, perhaps
deserves a summerish redress.

In the witching hour, solitude's domain,
there is naught but
I, and the white-hot eclipse for my eye.

I have one hand beneath your neck,
and another behind your knees.
In these gloves, I will drown and resurrect
my fair dress, one-and-only Sunday Best,
sodium hypochlorite cocktail mess.
My alternative hydrotherapy
is a remedy from my enemy.

You traffic through this well of hell in ease.
A fire drunken on the Lethe.
Deliquesce in clinical scents.

Your skin thrives on the purge,
but mine cannot survive.
Jul 2020
Lewis Sep 2020
I walk in beauty
As if Venus has bestowed her wings on my back.
Her frolicked hair in oil paint
perhaps I am her redemption?
To seek both answer and truth
In an age without stone cut statues?

But I do not resemble the sliced abdomen of statues
and I am not gilded in beauty
nor do I tell the perfect truth.
I tend to look back,
craving redemption
illustrated in paint

My fingers tremble in paint
frozen at the canvas like a statue.
There is no point in a redemption
when I cannot see beauty.
So I learn that I will not be back
until I have learnt the truth.

And when I have learnt this truth,
so stark as oil paint,
I must make the decision to come back.
Of course I will change, for I am not a statue,
but I will be shrouded in my own beauty
for Venus will get her redemption.
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