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God is there for us and he'll never forsake us.
He will be there until the days that he takes us.
He'll continue to be there for us when we're in Heaven.
He sent his only begotten son to save men and women.
You may think that God has forsaken you but that's not true.
God will always love all of us and we need to love him too.
God will never forsake us and when things are bad, he will be there.
Through thick and thin, God will be there because he truly does care.
Zywa 4d
The grey langurs screech

in the main city temple --

and bang the clappers.
Novel "Victory City" [Vijayanagar] (2023, Salman Rushdie), part 1: Birth, chapter 2

Collection "Low gear"
AceLione Jun 5
When God created man, he did so by creating Adam in his own image

How could the devil sway Adam and Eve if they were created from God’s own visage?

Is it sin if our creator could fall for the same blasphemous deeds?

Ask yourself if every flower blooms as pretty because they come from the same seeds
Mysterious indeed
There’s a letter
left beside my grave
—instructions for the end of the world.

Love is dead;-
death a mistress,
for in this old dream,
I had seen the skies crack open
widely, for those children of the rapture
—those left behind to only witness.

The eyes of time
had finally become blind;-
none could see how long their suffering
The silence of chaos,
was a perfect knife- carving through
all the hearts of many, but it couldn’t cut
for their hearts were too empty;
their pride’s stomach filled of gluttony.

The care that people had for us,
quickly; quietly vanishes
with every speck of eternal dust.

In the end,
all our stories will be the most
beautiful songs never heard.
As we seem to be still searching
for a blessing, hiding in a
subtle disguise; and a reminder of
All the gals I loved,
and the jealous kisses you traded
with many other guys.

The end will truly be
wild in the dark,
so hellish in your eyes for one hell of a night.

So in that letter you left me,
hopefully my soul recalls what piece
of love, I never shown you much,
kissing a last time;- before I die,
before all of the world dies.
Louise Jun 1
Tell the church,
the priest can speak and yap all he wants,
his words aren't the truth, he's another man;
at the bottom of it all, he will never be God.

Tell the church,
the believers are not blind followers,
the church is not perfect, it's an institution;
sometimes the dark at the end of the tunnel.

Tell the church,
the people are not their pets to parade,
we are God's children, not church's slaves!
if worse comes to worst, it's because of the church!

God is absolute, the church is not!
God is loving and freeing, the church is not!
God's love is unconditional, with the church, where's the love?!
And God is divine, kind and perfect, and the church will never be!

So tell the church,
they can make an enemy out of me,
burn me at stake or hang me until I bleed;
at the end of the day, to God I'd still believe!

And tell the church,
they can silence me or bind my arms,
dispose of me, turn my bones to charms;
until the end of the world, all they do is harm!
I can believe in God without being in a cult. I can practice religion without the confines of an institution. Tell the church!
Zywa May 27
To heavenly goals

lead only untrodden paths --

only worldly paths.
Novel "Quichotte" (2019, Salman Rushdie), part 1, chapter 7

Collection "Low gear"
neth jones Jun 2
greedy to give                                                        
you’­re a cram    born of septic inflammation
                            you fist to govern gods will
gods will gods-will-god-swill-god-swill
gills pouching and punching   a gush of oxygen
and it's give-give-give (beat-beat-beat)
regorging from within
above all ; love
spunking out love-love-love (heat-heat-heat)
and  oh lord of the texture
all the children cupped   under the golden wing
measureless rush   of giving joy
and a returned rush of gratitude                                          
             ­                   and worship will surely be fellow
a flourish of life
lush to follow   the sporing warfares demise
(later  to perform it's own tidal demise)

                 - lapping
Viktoriia May 13
a paradigm of solitude,
a monotone reprise.
she's desperate for a little break
to stop and shut her eyes.
a symphony of tragedy,
a prayer in disguise.
she walks her path so stoically,
but all their hymns are lies.
a disbelieving audience,
a concert of goodbyes.
she's desperate for a little break
to stop and shut her eyes.
Zywa May 13
The statues destroyed,

temples without a roof, gods --

that are still alive.
Poem 29. "Ionikón" ("Ionic", 1911, Konstantinos Kaváfis)

Collection "Held/True"
David Hilburn May 10
Right about glue?
Salvation is a nod's miracle...
Flow to owe, is rightness you?
With the season of silence, will...

A quiet person
Save you from two?
Chaste, and expecting worsens
Apprehension, is for those who...?

Kind amid dreck
Superiority has found your hunger...
Safety of sanity, is always elect
If was was to be, wall's speak danger?

Actual accord to finish
Simple lucre, to deliberate thus
The question's and answer's, of essences wish

Glad to meet me?
Sincerity is ours, for another
Integrity of poise and anarchy
With only ourselves to bother...?
A question only an angel could answer...?
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