Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Greater than all created things summed up
And multiplied by immortality,
The LORD attends to every buttercup
And blade of grass and bird and bumblebee.
The greatest knows the least; and every man
His every hair has been accounted for;
And all of him is fitted to God's plan
The earth and chosen people to restore.  
Everything's His to give or take or loan,
And nothing lies beyond His lone control.  
Everything's His, and every thing is known
By Him who sees all parts and every whole.
He understands, both root and all, and all
In all, the flower in the crannied wall.
M Vogel Jun 20

All your little feelers out
sideways-feeling;
Doing all your feeling, sideways
(that way you don't get caught)

And me,  feeling--
reeling
within the heart's natural response
(and treated as if I am stealing)

Oh, marriage and romantic relationships
finding their buried needs on the internet
Y'all can **** my ****..  ya hear?
(You're this way one moment..
and that way, the next)

   Ya.. **** my ****.

And you.. with all your magic
(yeah..every single one of you)
Always pickin' for yourself
the one for the home
who least, challenges

And so..
you  move towards me

And then punish me
(a true, single man)
for reminding you  of the dream
that fell back to sleep
the moment  you chose
a life of sleep--

(when you chose  for you
the one who sleeps.)

So **** me
you gorgeous little *******
**** me for being  the one
who shows you what it  feels  like
to not sleep.

**** me for feeling.
(oh, and *******, sweet-dream)


      I will  never,
                fall  asleep.


There must be something in the way I feel
That she don't want me to feel
The stare she bares,  they cut me
I don't care, you see, so what if I bleed?
I could never change just what I feel
My face will never show what is not real

A mountain never seemed
to have the need to speak
A look that shares,  so many seek
The sweetest feeling I got from you
The things I said to you were true
I could never change just what I feel
My face will never show what is not real

I could have lied, I'm such a fool
My eyes could never, never,
never keep their cool
Showed her and I told her how
She struck me but I'm ****** up now

But now she gone, yeah, she gone away
A soulful song that would not stay
You see, she hides 'cause she is scared
But I don't care, I won't be spared

I could have lied, I'm such a fool
My eyes could never, never,
never keep their cool
Showed her and I told her how
She struck me but I'm ****** up now

I could have lied, I'm such a fool
My eyes could never, never,
never keep their cool
I showed her and I told her how
She struck me but I'm ****** up now
(****** up)

https://youtu.be/X4vxsYpPD5k
go back to sleep now, my beautiful.
🖕xo
M Vogel Apr 15
The question,

within its very core nature ..
almost  solely hinges around
our own  deeply hidden,
internal self-betrayal:

In the creatively-covered up  alliances
we make..

In order to prop up, the parts of us
that refuse to respond  in any growing,
self-sacrificing way, that would lead
to the true growth of change.

And so..  within our own,
internally/externally-manufactured,
form of consent,  comes
a smile-washed, deep contempt
for anything,  and everything

that would (or could)  expose

Just how deeply we have
sold  ourselves out
through the ultra-fine art,
of alliance.

And like a lamb to the slaughter
are those who choose to unknowingly
(or with agenda-based blinders)
Love, defend,  and support
those  who use  such an alliance
to prop themselves up,

from falling over.

But the Universe..
within its deep ache for us--
It never stops asking of us
the Primal question

We can respond  through
the suffering  of the self

(leading to true growth  and change)

Or make alliance with Death
as a way of short-cutting the answer.

But within that shortcut
someone always, always, pays.

https://youtu.be/koJlIGDImiU

#hero. xo

  The killer
came crashing down
smashing,  thrashing through.
What is tender's  tender

       so  for itself,   to do?

As it runs
right over the top of her.

This taker.
This killer.

In the black,  
now in between
so lightless and thick..
        blotting out  all screams.

There is an annihilation  here.
A void.

A terror.
To stay, means certain death

      but to leave  
      also means certain death
      So the  d is m e m b e r men t   begins
      As she is ripped, completely into half

And those halves,  into half..
.. into half
--into half..
into half.
     And still it tears.. rips..  shreds.
Until all,  in between
is nothing  but black.
A black it can now  pretend to fill
with all of its empty promises..

and all of its counterfeit, everything.
And then--  just up and leaves
once it is fully satiated.


     And for a while..
     the black had something.


Clinging to the rocky crags
on either side of the unlit valley
are the pieces of her--
war-torn and shuddering.

Terrified
Of the black, black   empty.
Of what is now  fully

   and  completely  dark.

      ~       ~      ~       ~


Timmy  ain't real tall
but look at his stature,
as his majestic strings   dialogue
the introduction.

And Warren's gotten so fat
See him now, looking so dearly,  back
at his half-pint of Chunky Monkey--
picking it back up,  for the fourth time..
scraping... scraping.. scraping..

But watch his eyes  light up
as Timmy looks up--
  over the top
of those wild-man RayBans

And with a gentle nod,  it all begins..


-- as our Warren  now digs  deep
into his Gibson's beautifully-wanton  ways..

    identifying.


    clarifying.


­    Rectifying.


Clarence, the Magician..
Stephan--  Humble, Unparalleled
And Dave's  so chill
he's part Creole.. I just know it.

So great a cloud of witness:
surrounding you, my beautiful..
coaxing  you.

    Identifying it all for you.



"He came dancing across the water
         Cortez,  Cortez..

            What a killer."
https://youtu.be/lYrD2SthaMU


ah Neil..
tell me, my brother
have I lost my way?
--Warren digs deeply into its start
as on the edge of my bed
I dig deeply,  into her.

Love is a much more beautiful killer.
M Vogel Jan 29
sweet lord, girl..

I like the way your brain moves its thoughts  into its own deeper
realms with each thing said. You have that rare gift of being able to
be your own internal/external Muse.. even while midstream within
the process of writing it all out.

Alone.. maybe more than you may think you want to be, you are
never lonely. A very rare thing indeed in the modern world, kid.

Very unique, and very very special.
(It is very much the truth..)

I would always hope for the gifted ones such as yourself,  that you
would always and ever-increasingly be able to see your own
worthiness in yourself in being chosen to be a bearer of such a
wonderful gift. Kierkegaard was a chosen recipient such as you
(your rare mind's unfolding thought processes are in ways, much
like his), and through his own beautiful self-love, became.. through
his stewardship of the gift, the father of Existentialism. He felt the
Living Word within him, causing his wonderous mind to feel also,
through thought.. which in turn, churned deeply  his
forever-goldmining heart, which in turn, mused his mind into deeper processings of the deeply-felt word's expressions--

ever-cycling.. ever churning within him,  until every cell within his
electrified body became fully lit..

And out onto paper it all went.. as what was so beautifully
self-Mused within him was brought out from an internally-lit
darkness and into the full light of day. The deeply-searching, in you
is in relationship with the gifted Magical  in you,
(which is also so very much you [the gifts are irrevocable]),
bringing out words and concepts/thought processes pretty much
previously unknown here in this world. Make your own self-Love..
self forgiveness.. self-acceptance, and self understanding.. all your Art..

And it will be your art that most blesses this world down here.
You've already got the goods, kid.. watch them become greatly
clarified in you as your own self-Love becomes your own finest art.
The gift, you already have-- clear as clear can be. Shame and
condemnation are powerful enough down here to make even the
most purest of pure, become obscure.

Mm.
Yeah, kid..

"In the end..
The Love you take (in)
Is equal to
The Love,  you make"


Make your own self love, your goal-- surround yourself with
loving truthtellers who will love you for who you truly are..  rather
than what they want you to be (or think you should be)  for them.

Clearly you are worth every single bit of it all.

~Paul
(preston
M Vogel
F Unting Somethingoranother)



The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Was a couple of guys who'd been friends since grade school
One was named Cyrus, the other was Jeff
And they practiced twice a week in Jeff's bedroom

The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Never settled on a name..
But the top three contenders after weeks of debate
      Were Satan's Fingers,
      ..and The Killers,

       and The Hospital Bombers

Jeff and Cyrus believed in their hearts
They were headed for stage lights and lear jets and fortune and fame
So in script that made prominent use of a pentagram
They stenciled their drum heads and guitars with their names

And this was how Cyrus got sent to the school
Where they told him he'd never be famous
And this was why Jeff, in the letters he'd write to his friend
Helped develop a plan to get even

When you punish a person for dreaming his dream
Don't expect him to thank or forgive you
The best ever death metal band out of Denton
Will in time,  both outpace and outlive you
Hail Satan
Hail Satan, tonight
Hail Satan
Hail, hail

https://youtu.be/AGHmr1NyBTw
god bless the beautiful hospital bomber in us all

When love beckons to you,  follow him,
though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you   yield to him,
though the sword,  hidden among his pinions
may wound you.

And when he speaks to you  believe in him
though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you  so shall he crucify you.
Even as he is for your growth,  so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height  and caresses
your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
so shall he descend to your roots
and shake them in their clinging to the earth.
Like sheaves of corn  he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you  until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire,
that you may become sacred bread for God's sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you
that you may know the secrets of your heart,
and in that knowledge,
become a fragment of Life's heart.

But if in your fear, you would seek only love's peace
and love's pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness
and pass out of love's threshing-floor,
into the seasonless world--
Where you shall laugh..  but not all of your laughter,
And weep..  but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught, but from itself.
Love possesses not,  nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

When you love you should not say,
"God is in my heart,"
but rather,
"I am in the heart of God."
And think not you can direct the course of love,
for love, if it finds you worthy, directs your course.

Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself.
But if you love and must needs have desires,
let these be your desires--

To melt and be like a running brook
that sings its melody to the night.

To know the pain of too much tenderness.

To be wounded by your own understanding of love;
And to bleed willingly and joyfully.

To wake at dawn with a winged heart
and give thanks for another day of loving;

To rest at the noon hour and meditate love's ecstasy;
To return home at eventide with gratitude;
And then to sleep with a prayer for the beloved in your heart
and a song of praise upon your lips.


~Kahlil Gibran
step off the edge
preston Dec 2021

The Life-giving embers..
stoking the hearth-fire,  heart
in you  that had nearly gone out,
is nothing less that the deep
gentle,  Loving-kindness
of the Wellspring's  warm flow.

Love  feels, more than it sees..
but when one truly sees, beautiful girl--
as you so well at times know..

the view is utterly breathtaking.

You are learning how  
to breathe  the beautiful, free air.
Grace does that.


You are the most incredible of spokespersons, love...
Your very voice-tones..



The road is dark.. and it's a thin, thin line
But I want you to know I'll walk it for you any time
Maybe your other boyfriends couldn't pass the test
Well, if you're rough and ready for love
Honey, I'm tougher than the rest

Well, it ain't no secret
I've been around a time or two
Well, I don't know baby
Maybe you've been around too
Well, there's another dance
All you gotta do is say yes
And if you're rough and ready for love
Honey, I'm tougher than the rest

If you're rough enough for love
Baby, I'm tougher than the rest
https://youtu.be/_91hNV6vuBY
~bruce
M Vogel Dec 2021

Though I have  risked it all
and shown you  my true self

you are under no  obligation
to respond, likewise..

Autonomy, and the respect  for one's
consolidated Sovereignty,   requires

     of me,  that I leave you  
                   as I found you--

Consolidated,  within the Sovereignty
of your pre-chosen,   v i si b i l ity


But  even in your current,  state of being

#youarestillsoverybeautiful      
                                             #to   #me


<3
I'm watching the water..
watching the coast.
Suddenly I know,
what I want the most.

And I want to tell you,
still..  I hold back.
I need some time..
'get my life on track.

I know that look on your face..
But there's something  lucky
about this place.
And there's something good coming,
for you and me.

Something good coming,
there has to be.

And I'm thinking 'bout Mama,
and about the kids.
And the way we lived,
and the things we did.

How she never had a chance,
never caught a break.
And how we pay
for our big mistakes.

I know so well
the look on your face
And there's something lucky
about this place.

There's something good coming,
just over the hill..
Something good coming,
I know it will.

And I'm in for the long run,
wherever it goes.
Ridin' the river,
wherever it goes.

And I'm an honest man,
work's all I know.
You take that away..
don't know where to go.

And I know that look,  that's on your face,
There's something lucky about this place.
There's something good coming,
for you and me.

Something good coming,
There has to be.

https://youtu.be/rSvlJe1mwlw
~Brother Tom,  always


"I'm lying in my bed, the blanket is warm
This body will never be safe from harm
I still feel your hair, black ribbons of coal
Touch my skin to keep me whole

If only you'd come back to me
If you laid at my side
Wouldn't need no Mojo Pin
To keep me satisfied

Don't wanna weep for you, don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so

Oh, precious, precious silver and gold
And pearls in oyster's flesh
Drop down we two to serve and pray to love
Born again from the rhythm
Screaming down from heaven
Ageless, ageless and I'm there in your arms

Don't wanna weep for you, I don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so
So, so, so

Oh, the welts of your scorn, my love, give me more
Send whips of opinion down my back, give me more
Well it's you I've waited my life to see
It's you I've search so hard for

Don't wanna weep for you, don't wanna know
I'm blind and tortured, the white horses flow
The memories fire, the rhythms fall slow
Black beauty I love you so, so
Black, black, black beauty"


~Jeff Buckley
Tim's beautiful, beautiful boy
https://youtu.be/oo8GRnICt-Y

Parading through these beautiful Hills..

--You, and your entourage of a mixture
   of dog-like,  well trained, egostrokes..
   and also of men..   whose tattered boots
   you are unworthy, of even tying..

Traipsing across the Badlands--
your long  red hair, flowing..
giving off a stance, (as if)..

--You, and your entourage of a mixture
   of dog-like, well trained, egostrokes..
   and also of men.. in tattered boots
   that you are unworthy, of even tying..

Raining down havoc,  on the Beautiful People
simply for their having  within them ;;
  
Faith:
In the Great Father.. and Substance of Spirit;
Neither of which your cowardly Egostroke
will ever garner,  or ascertain..

But oh, you could steal..

And pilfer..
And destroy.

You will pay, oh General *******-boy
Your long, curly locks..
will take on a whole new color,  red
There will be a gathering..
A showdown..

A Holy Reckoning--
In that Montana field,  between the Hills
Along the Little Bighorn..

The River of all Beaten-Down  one's, dreams


injustice knows no bounds
https://youtu.be/bORY4LWuMlw

xo
Next page