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A love language is scrolled upon the walls of my house,
Hand-lettered on the plaster,
Waxy under layers of bluish and yellowed patina.
The grasp of time is precious.
The artist died decades ago, but the words hold him here.

He is the protector of the house.
He gives me his memories.
He visits my dreams.

"This world is so beautiful," he tells me.
He cannot leave the view of Bear Mountain and the cottonwoods.
He cannot leave the rock walls
Built with his own craggy hands.

But...
He is not mine.
There was no consent.
I am tired of self-absorbed ghosts.

I sage and sage until he’s choked out by smoke.
When he finally surrenders,
The vanity cracks, and
I offer him up to the golden angels,
Who take him away and remind him who he really is.

Then I have reverence.
Then I lay down the flowers.
Then my heart can melt into
The house that is mine.
that you were
the light
the dark of the truth
the hidden of the known
the fire in the blades
of dew
glimmering
in dawn's alighting
that hope would herald you
as rings in my oaken smile
as rings in my oaken tongue
that I speak you from wisdom
that I drink you from death
for death knew not
your purchase
and I knew not
your loss
for your light was my mote
of surrender to peace
for within, I have been burgeoning
the passions I cultivate due your return
where you wallow in the pools
of my tear full palm's embrace
seeking forgiveness's I cannot part to you
though I love you, your sin is true
but I favor you as my greatest lover
for my sin would be to abandon you
what prices have never been paid to conquer love
that I would submit myself to forfeit by folly
I would surrender myself to pandemonium
before forbidding myself the task
and into the frays of madness
into the braying maw of sin itself, I've gone
to conquer your heart with gladness
that surely,
through God's grace,
our Love is Won...
Hallelujah, for I believe I've finally found my first soul mate again
where she was once surrendered to darkness and sin
I have been a fisher of men many times
that I have
perhaps
become a fisher of love hence,
such that many women are my soulwives
and I have been enumerated in faith
to become the God of Love in truth
such that I pray I never surender
to the ignorance, scorn, and pity
of any nebulous doubter
who has never been tested by the devil, Lucifer himself,
to remain faithful to love,
despite the torments of a truly wicked woman
though she be Love herself also,
so I bless God Almighty, Yahweh, my Father,
and Asherah Herself, my Mother,
and thank them profusely
that I was raised in love so truthfully
that my first love,
and my lovers thereafter
shall never been without love
so long as they exist
I will be their greatest prize
and the price of their eternal bliss
in the comfort of heaven itself...
showyoulove Dec 2024
Rejoice and be glad for you have been set free
A Holy Nation, a Fruitful People you will be
You were once long in exile and shame
For you turned against God and His Sacred Name
You were a people lost in great darkness
A creation of your own desire and wickedness
But rejoice for your light has come
Bright shining like the sun
He will raise you up again a mighty nation
Your God has chosen you from all creation
Freedom for prisoners, strength for the weak
Justice for the oppressed, life for those who seek
Give thanks and praise to the God who saves
Sing to Him a new song born of a grateful heart
Live your lives in the light of Christ so others imitate
Your example and may also enter the narrow gate
Rejoice; for today, salvation has come
Now go and share it with everyone!
Inspired in part by Isaiah chapter 60-61
I will run to the Cross.
The hill where Christ died,
Dead with thee I shall be.
I have seen the blood.

The precious Crimson,
Beloved of them drawn.
I will taste the blood
Here quickening avail.
G N Kayacılar Nov 2024
Darkness, meet the sound of water
I was a rampage, now I calm
Barren from ****** charm
Violet fissions igniting in my mind

I can feel an end coming,
A millennium long surrender
My castles rumble on rolling waters

           Darkness, meet the sound of thunder
G N Kayacılar Nov 2024
Hello sojourner
You, walking down the freeway
Did you **** a man last night
before riddance took him on his own time
Did you come out of the womb and become a holy judge

I can tell by the look in your eye
You dream of building a house on hard shells and salt mud
Down the shore on the ramparts
to drink from the debris and float in the cyclone
You don't cut your flesh
But you feel, every time the tide hits the rocks

Goodbye sojourner,
Are you done with the mountain?
Did you watch a bird of prey as it glides,
and envy the freefall more than the flight?

If I told you I rooted out time  
Held it by the horns, knocked it out
A lifetime landlocked, would you go gentle?
On a pinnace, through the gulf.
You would go a sailor,
moored into the chasms below
Carla Nov 2024
Forgive me father, for I have sinned
I have drank from the sacred cup, tainting it with the atrocities of my mind.
Forgive me.
For I give you my life today and confess my faith in your son.
I dread the loss of heaven and fear the agonies of hell
Forgive me father
For I am not truly seeking forgiveness.
I have every intention of sinning again.
Letting it's sweet taste fill me up,
Allowing me to drink from the cup and experience salvation once more.
Zee Nov 2024
You never asked.
For this burden.

To be their salvation.
To salvage the light.

You grew up in the dark.
Yet you never dulled your spark.

They look to you for answers.
They look to you for hope.

You nurturer you're mind.
Found another way of life.

You learned long ago.
Not everyone can be saved.

Still somehow.
You hope.
You're wrong.

You are a boy.
You are a saviour.

Finding the faintest light.
To keep the spark of hope.
Alive.
Another character inspired poem from Arcane. This goes out to Ekko.
Jack Groundhog Oct 2024
A dark clay raven hung at a windowpane
to ward off bright songbirds from glass.
It never spoke a word, nor did it feign
to know of a departed late lass.

I asked it my questions, expecting more
conversation than it had on offer,
but plainly it found me a tedious bore
for it stayed quiet. Not much of a talker.

The brief encounter left me po-faced
as I’d been led to expect more from him.
So I turned away, belying a trace
of disappointment weighing within.

Then I heard the wind, and nothing much else
except the song of birds who’d survived
thanks to the clay raven who hung by a belt
in front of a window to keep it disguised.
Inspired by an old-fashioned clay raven that hung in front of a window in Mainz Old Town to prevent birdstrike. Having a bit of fun, too.
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