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Dylan McFadden Mar 2018
Part 1: Good Friday

Unspoken words – I hear them clear
They speak above the rest
I hold them near and hide them here:
The heart inside my chest

Part 2: Saturday

Unspoken words – my Savior lay
Alone in Joseph’s tomb
Oh, heavy heart, cry not today
For Sunday’s coming soon

Part 3: Easter Sunday

Unspoken words – the Son, He rose
A new and glorious morn’
He shines on me and now I know
I’ll never feel the thorns

.
The Non-Poet Mar 2018
do you know
what it's like
to feel like you're
no longer
know yourself?

do you know
what it's like
to be in such pain
that it keeps you
frozen in place,
silently suffering
with no glimmer
of hope that it will end?

do you know
what it's like
to want
to make it all stop,
even if it causes
everyone that
you love pain?

do you know
what it's like
to find the strength
to put an end
to those thoughts
and keep on going
not because you want to,
but because you have to?

do you know
what it's like
to try and piece
yourself together,
though some
of the pieces to
the puzzle (the mess)
that is you
have gone missing?

and do you know
what it's like
for months
and months
to go by
and feel no change
within yourself?

then
a n  a n g e l

do you know
what it's like
to meet someone
and feel like you've
woken up from
a long and terrible dream?

do you know
what it's like
to be around someone
who understands
everything that
you're feeling?
who understands
what you’ve
been through?

do you know
what it's like
to find a kindred soul
at the height of despair?

and do you know
what it's like
to be reminded
that life is beautiful?
that you are beautiful too?
thank you
from the bottom of my heart
thank you
I was there
so deep into the abyss
that light burned when I faced the day
so lost in the comfort of night
that I knew not the warmth of the Sun
I crept closer to the reaper's door
my words became razors
my heart an open wound
yet there was one who refused to leave
when the darkest night arrived
and took the final cut
meant for me
oldie
T R S Feb 2018
Tinkering inside my chest
I came across a snag
Begging for forgiveness
was a partially painted ghost
asking honest questions
of what it wanted most
Bleeding in a basket
holding up his hands
Heaven is a trap,
So is the promised land
Mystic Ink Plus Feb 2018
Oh, Child of illusions
Creator of divinity
With spiritual connections
Living in a moment of history
With desire for libration
Myth of promising afterlife
Seeking solace
Inside a wall of hope
Interweaving mind and cosmos
Balancing an ego and id
Doctorate: blind to conviction
Merge all the universe
For salvation of humanity

Accept empathy, a seed of peace
Buffering indifferences
For unity of religions
The beginning of all ends

Welcome to the tranquility
Door to metaphysics
With all the senses
Peace reign in us.
Genre: Spiritual
Shared from my Anthology, Canvas: Echoes and Reflections, 2018.
Heavy Hearted Feb 2018
Dear bumps and bruises Doctor,
To you I never voiced the call-
You say your fee is very simple
But nothing is at all.
And im sitting here and wishing
In the years that are to be
When I'm faced with life's real troubles
They won't follow me.
Response to Edguar A Guests original poem "the bumps and brusies doctor" copyrighted in 1934
Alexis Jan 2018
My name is Alexis

And I'm and addict;

Just 19.
Who wouldve thought...
Amphetamine.
This ***** ******* habit
Keeps on reeking ****** havoc
This heavy dose, i love the most
Its fist is wrapped around my throat
So tightly roped, i try to cope
But have i told you of the voice
As if I have no simple choice
Every night i hear that noise
It whispers and hisses ill fame
And in my saviours name
I rebuked this devil and said he was to blame
Tragic it was when I feared we were  same
Only briefly, so before he fell away from me
And from grace, I needed just once to see his
Face
I summoned him, provoked in that hour
The devil at hand, while within my power
To show his cowardly self, and he appeared
The "Self" ishness in me. A mirror I saw
I cant escape this hate for law
To **** myself and laugh at me
My reflection says, "don't you see?"
I am the devil in you. You can't be free.
a holy verse you know so well
Said in the Lords house you just might dwell
It taught you truly the nature of god
And to write euphemisms, o poet in facaude
The complex you create to be above
This evil thing you cannot love
Inside of you, that is called "I"
The devil I am. That lives inside
In the Word I learned to know of this god in which you abide
guiding you to deny me to death.
Dissonance from guilt, creates in you, me
A separate enity, in which you can't be free
Except in flesh, of responsiblity
But without you, I don't exist
Denying the self inside, shouldn't feel like such bliss
But to yourslef, you lie
And within I die, every time
A juvenile in your prime
You forget me and commit the one sin
Which honestly can't be forgiven
Denial of error, dont look so blue
Failing to forgive the devil in you, it's true
You deny me by your own will
A chance to have peace, to be still
In rebuking me, what's left is condemnation
Eternal damnation
It is the "self" you dismiss
When the pipe you kiss
Makes you feel I do not exist
So let this god cast me away
But it's your own soul you lost today
I am the devil. The mirror.
You're truest fear.
In church this is called blashepmy
But I like to call it your ego,
We both know you cant let go
Pure humanity, inner calamity
To deny thy self love, such profanity.
To repeat this rejection expecting a new "me".....
Literally defined: NOUN
Insanity.

The devil in me is so profound.


I will not be forgiven. Because I will it not.

I deny my pain.
So slowly driven my self insane..
Pray not for peace but Novacane
to numb these rotting teeth, that ache so slowly,  only subject to the sovereign hand of time; this cycle. This crime.
This line of mine
Amphetamine.
But the conscious is clean
Alteast... I think?
In honor of sobroety, to thine own self be true
Crystal Freda Jan 2018
Holy Spirit come,
let us all receive some.
Let it sprinkle and rain
and wash away hurt and pain.

God's power flows down
rushing greatly to the ground.
Flashing down on God's people,
breaking the walls of the steeple.

Overflowing through the cracks
of the wood and it never slacks.
It reaches for every heart and every nation.
Rushing in and through from God's salvation
Johnny Noiπ Jan 2018
According to Christianity's absurdly
self-consistent logic
the one person Jesus can save is Satan,
the 'originator of sin';
the original sin was not original,
Satan had been up all night
figuring the angles; sitting up w/ Lilith
smoking but if Satan
were to repent & all of his followers,
well, followed, there would be no hell
& no death
As it is claimed Jesus did away w/ (!);
wow---imagine Satan
as a born-again & all sins forgiven---
what would u do
w/ urself? sit around being good all day;
yeh, me too
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