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cristina Mar 5
my love is desperate consumption of anything im not

i can only ever crave hankering separation

(the farthest away from my own sinful hand)

and abhor all that easily falls into my shameless claws

i swallow my desire and digest it long enough it turns into something carrying an all too familiar ugliness

(i stare into the abyss and in the abyss i see you tire)

everything i love i stain with my own repulsing vacancy,

mercilessly shape it into a cage befitting my prodigal heart

fill it with the same insatiable appetite that snarls and howls knowing no decency

my love is not creation but its own twisted pretense being picked apart

loving is god creating his own specular image of worship

looking at it with both resentful revulsion and unspeakable lust

and i, just like god, can never love anything made of my rib
Louise Feb 15
I have no time to pray
For instead I must work, cry, eat,
all these prayers, I cannot say anyway.
I have to work for the things
that I want and need
instead of praying and waiting for them,
I have to cry so I can work again for the things I really need
and silence my cries and dry my tears with the things I want then,
I have to eat so I can do it all over again
instead of praying to get warm food on my plate
or fresh sheets on my bed.
So tell me
Where do I find the time?
Where do I look for more?
Do I pray for more time too?
And if so, when do I find the time to pray
for more time?
If God doesn't sleep, then I am a God too.
And even if I'm restless,
I still have no time to pray.
And even if I have rest,
when does that happen anyway?
I have no time to pray, rest
or God forbid, play
For instead I must work, cry or eat.
When I'm on my deathbed,
probably then I'll have time to pray.
Have you ever noticed that the people who have time to pray and go to church are those who already have what everyone else is praying for? Prayer is a luxury. The time for it, even more so.

Wrote this from the point of view of our hardworking countrymen who earns below average salaries, who breaks their back and their spirits for the rich... for the rich who have all the time in the world to pray.
Man Jan 15
The eye sees-
Singular, as I am only,
In corporeal, in tangible form;
We are 1 out of many.

When our cup runneth empty,
Many welcomes back the one;
As a droplet joins a water's body-
Like tides taken back by the sea

As dawn & Sun meet

We are as day,
The slim slivers of light that separate
Night, from next night; the fleeting life
In the darkness that permeates.
arthur lomax Jul 2023
The Holy Ghost extinguishes
to the blow
of her miraculous hands;

and I - that Holy - am not,
drift afloat
in the salt of her glimpse,
baptized afresh.
Jeremy Betts Jun 2023
Only God can help you now and and I don't see him here, do you?
I asked you a question motha plucker!! DO! YOU! SEE HIM?! He's certainly nowhere in my view
What's he gonna do, bust in her on some kind of divine rescue?
Kick the door off the hinges and run through, swoop you up and save you?
As a grown asss man how does that idea not perplex you?
If he exists he's forgotten all about you, he's forsaken all but a few
And the slough of sins you've happened to accrue became an issue
He's turned a deaf ear to every sincere word you've ever cried into that pew
Oh but you've never been alone, the devils there for us all
To answer the desperate call for help when our life's in a free fall
When we pledge to give anything for that one thing we believe to be a cure-all
Turn to an inadamint object for a sec for a possible answer to it all
"Oh magic eight ball...is there even any hope for me at all?"
"Not a chance" reads on the small dice, that's when you offer up your small life
Hand over your soul and heart packaged nice in a Ziploc bag full of ice
And at that percice moment he hands over your dreams but at a price
As eventually the good days splice off giving way, showing your sacrifice
A new nightmare trasnforms from your paradise, what once was used to entice
Turns to a vice that's twice as powerful when used as an evil device
And of course, by then, it's far to late to stop this from happenin'
The Lord's furry captured by a heathen stolen through the Golden gate, taken from heaven
Good heavens, where's Chris Evens? We need the captain
But a heros shield held by a broken zero is a domed zeppelin
Soooooo...I win, dark beats light again
I've racked up so many that we should change that old time sayin'
The one about how light always trumps dark cause I leave no question
Leave no doubt in anybody's mind that good doesn't always come out the champion
If you've ever watched any wrestlin' you've seen that the heel or the villian
Gets his hand raised often, over and over again and god willin'
I'll can keep continuin' this stylin', profilin', limousine ridin', jet flyin', kiss-stealin', wheelin' n' dealin' with a little added blood spillin' till my will 'n passion come unfastened or to an abrupt end
That's your only hope so I hope it doesn't ever happen

©2023
Dylan Mar 2023
Egg
Echoes of the water hymn
meander on empty boulevards -
I trod this sunken labyrinth on the sea.
I watch silk-clad cherubim
standing near the milky shards
as they join a haunted melody.

The girl sculpts lamenting statuettes
on the sunlit crown.
Countless hours within the tower
nesting angels in her lillywhite gown.

Ghosts of a shipwreck
pour into the starboard garden
and I paint their tears like pieces of an ocean.
They wander on the fore-deck
and sing as the eggshells harden.
I see to the dawn, filled with strange emotion.

She swims in the moonlight
as her body stills.
A winged flight in the fading night
while the chalice of golden wine overspills.
charlie darling Aug 2022
my chest is full of burning coals / a penitent shepherdess, dreaming / above the slumbering world the moon changes shape / through the waking-world, spring turns to summer / i kneel before the garden in sorrow / one olive in my hand
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