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Leal Knowone Jun 2015
The ability to project power,is truly
key to controlling our world
dream the impossible dream into reality
explode your being
will you ever realize the duality of man
it cant all be seen
caped in gold
Resurrection machine
a mirror in the sun
widing the horozions of man kind
thegirlwhowrites May 2015
your pain
wraps itself
around my heart,
a noose
surprisingly tight
for one
of letting go.

it whispers
against my ears
of tears overflowing,
drowning
what is bottled up
inside.

i empty
your words
into my palms,
allowing each memory
to filter through
my fingers,
every metaphor
to cut through,
each sick longing
to permeate.

i must admit
that i have no use
for your heartbreak,
for i have enough
of my own
to last me
through the night,
but i soak myself through
nonetheless,
allowing
what is taken
from your heart
to find its way
through mine.

each poem
leaves a ****
i dare not
stare at
for too long.
it is enough
that i feel.
it would have been
too much
if i should see,
if i should revel
at what is
unacceptable
even before your eyes.

so tonight,
let me be blind
but feeling,
sensitive
to every throbbing
wound
you've nursed,
to every cry
you've muffled.
tonight, i mourn
with you
the loss
of a love
not worth having.

i weep with you,
love,
not because
i, too, have experienced
your defeat,
but because i, too,
have loved you,
and like
everything else
that rots,
we, too,
shall find
our resurrection
in the decay.
one day soon,
we’ll find
our salvation
in surrender.


for k.c.
*053015
Mike Essig May 2015
The extraordinary man
woke up as ordinary
as a ***** shirt,
checked his horoscope
which told him
to go back to bed.

He ignored it like
a weather report
just as often
wrong as right.

His coffee tasted
flat as ironed dreams.

The world
appeared unchanged.

But he was exhilarated.

He reveled in his
new ordinariness.

It hinted at a rebirth
of possibilities:
new boots, new roads,
a new moon
at which to howl.

A new way to be
in the same world,
but reborn.

An unspoken prayer
somehow answered.

Nothing is
ever over
until it is.

  ~mce
Mike Essig May 2015
We live in an abrupt time
without ancestors.
Those gossamer threads
that bound us to the past
have long ago melted away.
I am a lone man on a bed in a room.
Adjectives do not accrue.
Only your mouth tracing my body
outlines me into reality,
your pretty teeth nip me
into the dangerous present.
And what then shall I give you?
Neither famous nor rich,
I possess only mundane flesh
and a grab bag of words.
These will have to do, lady.
Allow me to adorn you with them:
earrings made of desperate syllables,
a necklace of my broken fingers.
These are the offerings
I place before your body's altar
where I have come to worship
before the magic of your touch.
Only a man on a bed in a room,
everything that is left of me,
waiting with anxious longing
for your mouth to create me again.
God is bigger than our failed ability
To deal with life;
That's why He sent Christ
To die for our sins --
And gave us the power to be victors
As he rose again, giving us *hope.
Ignatius Hosiana Apr 2015
He was identified by miracles He shared
His blood so precious was shed
He came down earth cause He cared
To the heaven a path He prepared
He turned water into wine
For His flock to wine and dine
He'll come again when It's prime
To Earth where Love was His only crime
Kareena Apr 2015
My Easter
Is not
A coloring
Of eggs
A consumption
Of candy
A celebration
Of spring

Rather it's
Something larger
Profound as
The coloring
Of blood
The consumption
Of communion
The celebration
Of resurrection

Because Easter
Isn't about
Baby chicks
And bunnies.
But rather,
Forgiveness and
Salvation
Amen

And even
If I
Didn't go
To church
On Sunday,
God is
Where ever
I go
Because the
Curtain split
God and
Man are
No longer
Separated by
A barrier
Of tapestry
Francie Lynch Apr 2015
Fair Warning*

The reerrection
Is based on
The Living Wood,
The Risen Wood.
I'm possessed.
William Wiley Apr 2015
THIS IS JESUS, KING OF THE JEWS, it read
The Lamb's sweet blood spilled all across the sand
The Morning Light, the Son of God now dead
Great holy shepherd slain by rome's demand.
And there entombed and guarded with great care
The savior lay for three immortal days,
While fishermen and doctors found despair,
He who conquers death, dread sin forays.
And on that easter morn the women found
Their teacher was no longer in the ground
"Why do you seek the living '**** the dead?"
Sweet Jesus rose to life in dying's stead.
Francie Lynch Apr 2015
After sixty years,
Easter morns
Still give me a
Resurrection.
I've been playing with this idea for forty years. Glad to finally write it in an acceptable manner.
The wee blue eggs are my favs.
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