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selina 3d
it is one thing
to follow her into the dark

it is another thing
to borrow her fragmented words
and hold her in one hand
and a scale in another
and call it justice

but, by God
(whichever one you’d like to cite today
the kind one, the cruel one, and so on),

it is a whole different thing
to seize her by the neck
and rip the words from her throat
and twist them into cotton *****
and dip them into holy water
and force them back into her mouth
until she can no longer breathe
and no longer live and no longer exist
without drowning in a sense of helplessness
because we, the people, will always remember exactly how
you took your greed and shoved it into her mouth
and down her throat, until you stifled the cries of
‘my body, my choice’ with a book of myths and a man’s voice
weren’t you supposed to be our voice?
what was this all for? was the money so loud that
you could not hear the echoes of pro-choice?
our rage—will it be worth those thirty silver coins?
the SCOTUS decision on roe v wade and plan parenthood v casey was heartbreaking
Crystalline bones
pulverized
by two-****** pestle blows
crushed into mortar.

Straw men mud bricks
and adobe...
cemented together
in galactic ancestry.

Mountain movers
plunging dynamite
buried
under avalanching mothballs.

Chiffon clad lumberjacks
log rolling
a carpenters
wooden chalice.

Conjoined siblings
torn apart
by parchment scrolls
and radioactivity.
Our blood is golden wine,
I’ve been told to try sweeter blends.
My cups lay in my favorite number but the unknown in my shadow still stand.
Inside could be my salty songs for a memory that never ends.
I pull you down underwater to see just how far you can be from the sand.
Eyes wide open to the flame of your being;
It’s confidence and conflict that drag me out of my stalemate.
A torch to gaze upon something I know to be worth seeing.
Whether together or apart we still crawl the same trail to feel and be something great.
The oleander and roses course through our veins like the wax that holds together our armor.
We’re meant to grow our vines past the heavens.
That’s the place that holds serenity and storms that you never have to barter;
Where admiration never leads to lessons.
To be strong through our valleys when we feel like we’ll never climb back up.
In this garden is the place where I can accept your oceans dichotomy.
No matter how many wands, no matter how many cups;
I’ll accept it completely but of course cautiously.
All the eyes can see all the burning in my hands.
What could be sparked by nature feels easier to light on my own.
Is it gasoline I smell on demand
Or has the apple already grown?
5 of cups, 8 of wands, 7 of wands, the magician, the knight of swords. He lives in sunsets.
Zywa Jun 18
Thank you, cat, here is

your blackbird offering back --


Gods are generous.
Collection "From Sacred Scriptures [1]"
saturn Jun 14
god made me to be forgotten
he made me to be unloved
to be left out

god made me lose faith in him
he made me to suffer
to be alone

if god made us
why did he make me like this
(धर्म के ठेकेदारों से परमात्मा कहते है)

दिखावटी सा लगता है ये प्रेम तुम्हारा,
जो तुम मुझे बार बार दिखलाते हो।
बनावटी सी लगती है तुम्हारी सारी बातें,
जो तुम मेरे बारे मे औरों को बतलाते हो।

पहले खुद ही लड़ते हो, फिर खुद ही डर जाते हो,
बार बार मेरे ही नाम पर, ये हथियार क्यों उठाते हो?
मै ही तुम्हारा निर्माता, मै ही जगत रचयिता,
फिर मुझको किससे भय, जो तुम हर बार मेरी रक्षा करने चले आते हो?

दिखावटी सा लगता है ये प्रेम तुम्हारा,
जो तुम मुझे बार बार दिखलाते हो।


मुझको बाँट दिया तुमने धर्मों मे, दे दिये कई भिन्न नाम,
फिर क्यों दिन ओ रात खुद के दिए उसी नाम को गलियाते हो?
तुम भी मेरे ही बच्चे, वो भी है संतानें मेरी,
फिर क्यों एक दूसरे को भाई बोलने से तुम कतराते हो?

हर मुश्किल में, हर एक मुसीबत मे साथ तुम्हारे खड़ा मैं,
बावज़ूद इसके, क्यो तुम मेरा नाम लेने से हिचकिचाते हो?
जब सत्य जानते हो कि मै ही अल्लाह, मैं ही येशु, मैं ही हुं श्रीराम,
तो इतनी सी बात को स्वीकार करने मे तुम इतना क्यों सकुचाते हो?

दिखावटी सा लगता है ये प्रेम तुम्हारा,
जो तुम मुझे बार बार दिखलाते हो।
A poem about rising religious intolerance in the name of Almighty.
N Jun 2
Longing must be an act of worship, and I do it fervently. “I wrote you endless confessions that turned into poems. But you still banished me.” I said to my deity. “I admit, I am but an unloved thing aching to be loved. Oh, it hurts. It hurts to worship you.” I cried to her during one of my confessions. “I wish to share my loneliness with you” I said, trying not to break.
“Goddess of adoration, I shall worship you in secret. In the dark, I will come to you with my ardent desires, unholy cravings, and burning longings. For I solely exist to please you.” I said under my breath. “Your mouth, a glowing thing in the dark. I set ablaze at the mere thought of my tongue merging with the river of you.” I whispered, shaking with an unspeakable hunger. “Allow me to show you how deep my devotion is. I could burn for you” I said.
Roland Jun 2
-You come on down and join the madhouse, full of song and dance, full of joy and pride!

Listen to my prayers and hold me so tight, while the whole world burns and crumbles down outside

-So come on down and join this madhouse, where the poor do eat and the rest hang out!

Listen to our payers and hold them so tight, blind them to the greed that goes on inside

-Why don’t come on down and join the madhouse, we can wash your sin and leave you out to dry!

Please listen to their prayers and hold ‘em real tight, when the flood hits home and takes away their lives.

I’ve been meaning to ask you lord about that deal we had, where I give you my life to “get lucky” when I die.

I’ve been meaning to ask you lord about that deal we made, where I give my life, I give my soul, give you all I’ve own.
ShFR May 31
The holy cardinal said:
who bare rib?
fresh cut new did,
he said -- who is this?
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