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Poetoftheway Feb 2019
the Hail Mary transgression:
falling in love with me when it crosses over the line

guilty of the same, so even when I condemn the errant woman,
with an ice block from a Northeastern pond of no soft forgiveness,
which is still and yet, the only cutoff ending appropriate

but you woman, deserve to learn that
emboldened fantasy that crosses broken bold lines,
is a jagged rot that doesn’t cure the dreamy unreality of
it’s pouring hot water on scalding burns entrenched

guess time to share that your fantasy is the
number one commandment
that this boy also violates routinely so he has a phd of experience,
and the burn proofs when he thot he too could be,
Cervantes, the knight errant, lover of the impossible woman

I, guilty as charged by “The Duke,” am an idealist and bad poet,
so many poet-women here I secret cherish at levels that are nonsensical, absurd, ludicrous
and hold the fantastical fantasty of them dear,
so close and so near, so mine

wrote them each love poems, and they know it,
now, here, in my confessional booth,
my priestly punishment always the same,
ten thousand Hail Mary’s,
but I cheat the cohen priest,
and just write another poem,

this one is about the line that never can  could  will be
crossed, hail mary!
The Duke from Man of La Mancha
Philip V Jul 2018
How can I be better
When I wasn't even good,
To begin with?

How can I not lie,
When it makes me real
When it gives me direction

I know there is a truth in fear
It plays the fiddle for guilt
When faced with it
Your body bets on red
You ignoring it
Doesn't make it go away

It's all turned to **** anyway
Maybe I'll die not even trying
To **** myself

I'll be ash and you'll be grey
What's the difference
Is all you'll say
SelinaSharday Feb 2018
****** **** such a tragedy.
Between kin bloodlines abominations of unrighteous unity.
Speak loud and spare not, victims stop keeping it hidden.
A sin so scandalous so forbidden.
This secret is the reason for some insane things.
Punishment on our Nation it brings.
Stop the transgress it’s time to progress
to detest the ugliness of ******.
The sin of ****** put out from us such wickedness
Crimes within the family.
Outcry why oh God why.
Emotions cry spirits die.
Survival with scars somehow.
Child kept secrets at least for now.
Innocent sweet nectar just taken.
Abused shattered then forsaken.
Inwardly hating the humiliation.
Lingering curse.   Bound to be rehearsed.
A bloodline search, unthought-of   curse our generation.
How can we cleanse this crime  from our nation.
Child **** such outrage of wickedness.
Such a corruptible trespass.
Men lusting after little boys. Using them as ****** toys.
Outcry iniquity.  Loss of innocent purity.
Killers of purity, thieves,
bandits doings malicious things in secrecy.
Abused children in mind body and spirit.
Hear their voices silently cry who’s close enough to hear it.
Legal laws. Often with flaws
Putting children in harms way.
Hard to prove it allowing perpetrators often to stay.
Courts judicial systems poor outcome.
Criminals getting counseling with their worst still to be done
It’s a unhealed spiritual condition.
Warriors do our best to rid ourselves of this affliction.
Wrongful unthinkable vexation.
Impure affections of ****** connection.
Between the bloodlines.
Children with Children sexually learned crimes.
Scares of a lifetime.
People wake up let us not be blind.
I beg you I pray.
Let’s do more to protect our children in any way.
Outcry, need to protect our innocent ones. Prayers uplifted, rebuking the hidden crimes.
Gabriel burnS Sep 2017
I'd share the sky
with the clouds
but I had to grow my wings
but I had to lose my skin
I dared to reach
but my brothers took my skin
but my brothers used my skin

and I couldn't let them win
so I had to let this in
now it's tearing us within
and it's the fruit our sins
cause I had to grow my wings
but my brothers used my skin

I made them crawl
took my time nice and slow
feels so good to lose control
like a witness, watched them fall

now I'm free to flee this skin
but I will not shed this sin
and I cannot be complete
Francie Lynch Apr 2016
I've scorned and derided,
Needled and spited,
Those, who are closest to me.

I've cheated and lied,
Vilified and decried,
Those, who are closest to me.

I've toasted many glasses
With strangers in places
Where I shouldn't have been.

I've smoked and laughed,
Admired strange ***
In lands where I cannot be seen.

But mention your name,
And all seems so vain,
Those promises I failed to keep;
The losses that haunt me in sleep.

Despite confessed sins,
My transgressional whims,
I know I've always been true;
And when I bow out,
My whisper will shout,
*Above all, I've always loved you.
kevin hamilton Mar 2015
i need you to keep me awake
until the palace band stops playing
and the trapped sand in my hands
turns into sea glass

i'm lit up but so easy to smother
by a wayward breath of wind
or the waxing moon's light temper
the errant smoke will twist forever
Julia Aubrey Mar 2015
No one ever wants to read a poem other than one about love.
They’re only interested in thoughts from another that might just be about them.
I mean it’s pleasant if you happen to read a poem that relates to you, but don’t just click copy, save, or reblog.
Someone put their heart in to that poem; they shed tears and carved crevasses into their undoubting mind that everything is worth it.
They found their worth.
Some through words of love and transgression, and others through words of doubt, vexation, and sorrow.
They’ve been able to overcome themselves, and now it’s your turn to take the wheel.
Understand the words you want to say about the grass dancing in the wind, find the comparisons between yourself and the sun, and reach for the top of the clouds with the courage
of a self-spoken soul.
Not everything has to be about love, people just make it out to be.

just be original in everything.

— The End —