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Laokos Oct 2020
stars align in
a blanket of
        future snow
dusting time's
plateau with
        a smear of
red paint across
the fallen angel's
        face shedding
tears in the naked
light from the
        hollow of a
mirrored heart
playing shadows
        like a work
of art

it's an expansive
drama of forgotten
         leagues keeping
memories in silence
between the ravines
         of what has and
what has yet. digital
ridges serrate the
         landscape of quiet
burdens borne by the
beings of beastly
counting seven in
perpetuity in honor
        of the bell that
tolled so long ago now.

there is a low roar
bellowing from the
         womb of novelty
coming to upset the
balance bristling with
         charged particles
of transmutation and
flashing in a dance of
         lightning from
the void. born from
eternity to create in
         time those wildest
dreams from the
darkness of God's mind.
Prabhu Iyer Apr 2019
Love that is pain, the unspeakable
joy of the heart, a transformation

and here in this world cruel of men,
it is to love that is to suffer;

And so when you love with all your heart
with all your soul,  with all your mind
with all your strength,

so is the suffering sweeter the water
deeper the well, dug into the earth
where walked the prophets;

But we can die a hundred times on the cross,
for there is no love that does not heal, and

blessed is this sky under which
such a thing as love blooms;

Risen, we live, when in suffering we die, loving
such is the gospel of love we contemplate tonight.
an Easter poem - its traditional for me, some of my meaningfully deepest poems are written at this time of the year...

There is a night to reflect on
as there is a day to celebrate it:

The reference is to Mark: 12:28-31,

edited: 9/4/20
Boris Sitnikoff Oct 2018

There is a stream of water that flows
into the depths of yore
out into the heights of the future.

This stream flows through the mind
of those who tread through the trials of life
knowing the truth of God’s Word.

The force driving this stream
is the eternal Being
who created reality with His Word.

Be washed by it,
and works of wonder shall flow out


Hear this, oh man,
fight the nightshade;
fit in the dark secret, goy.

Trouble blasts forth before the train of desire,
but a moon that cradles fire shall tremble in sight of the nightingale,
viewing the pleasures of yore burst fitly out into the nightshade.

Shift from sensual trite thrill
engulfed in ecstasy
yet never fleeing from the nightmare
sitting in the front porch,
to greatness ensued
by the power of our being and His image
sprouting fruit and giving
and giving and giving and giving.

I can’t shake the trees that make you fight for help,
for we must trade fire for fuel and fuel for fire,
so just cut them down instead
before we ***** onto things that must not be groped
and so that we may hope for the things that we obviously must hope.

Five billion jews,
ninety nine points of nailed contention,
twenty one years before the great grand fathering of grandsons,
and four times we must grate in time with the webbed fingers of fate.

Oh, is this not the grand granding,
the fine fitting grand node of triumph?
Tell me now, sir,
must you wait for the time that you create back and forth?

No guy could fit them down into any glock,
so go ahead and beat the clock,
beat the tick,
and beat the glistening tock.


This thing called life I can embrace
must find its cause for humanity
in the crevice of nature
Behind the gutter.
Mind the gutter;
try to tell the nations of mindreaders,
“find hope in the Being far beyond the stars,”
with fire inside for life eternal.

Liberation from flesh creates harmony with Christ;
that came on the cross,
A fountain of water.

Might I try to inform you of the mistake ypu made
tripping into great flesh sea of carnal pulsing flushes
of blood, testosterone, oxytocin and chi?

Jesus our God wants you to stop,
to say the least, bud.
So bloom rightly;
a nightshade blooming in the day
is a deathshade.


Crushed by the pounding force of fire flying within,
I try to see the greatness of Him who made me
conduiting through my body,
ripping through the ***** of corporeality
and bursting beyond the beyond.

Incantations of holy heavenly love
holler wholly beyond my being,
beyond the light of existence
as I set my mind on the Word,
the way, the truth, and the life.

I am compelled by the Spirit
to fixate my being towards the light of all mankind,
explosions of powersurges flow all through my body,
His temple radiates with glory.


Life is conceived, legacy continued,
fruit made plentiful, joy flooded,
dominion exuded, Christ exalted,
creation filled, humanity fulfilled,
head & body made one, God and man with Son.
Higher are the thoughts and ways made when richly does the Spirit dwell
The stream made into an ocean reservoir, a heavenly flood of everlasting life.


Take from the source the well of life
the water and fire within
let it be wind blowing upon your conscious being
fermenting the glory of God in creation
creating all things new and exciting
both the head and the body

Oh there is love in the currents
There is joy in the sailing of the Spirit’s vessel.
This is how we know we are alive;
this is how we know the real wind carries us
beyond the present closer to all that is holiest.


It is rich gain to voice the unspeakable
Yea, does the unspeakable build up within me
Flow up my spine,
Through my heart,
Out my back,
Around my crown,
Back through my heart;

Images of the lesser fade like chaff on a plate
blown away by the rushing gusts.
Giving eye to all that is yet to be spoken
Echoing softly, higher passion awoken.

All I can do is give now
I must give the exertion of my body
I must give the seed of my mind
I must give the surge of my heart
And here it is
All that I have is laid before me
Drawn from the stream of life eternal
Ready to gush out and water the earth
And bring the sprouts from the ground to the air
standing tall for all to see.

This is the driving factor of fate
The point where possible and the planned collide
Revealing the eternal plan grain by grain
And the temporal hand vein by vein
May the plan shine so richly through the hand
And the hand give all according to plan.


The heavens open wide to the glory of all ascending
In Christ; the power of the faithful is broadcasted to the eyes of the ******
While they froth with tears,
With eroded teeth,
With envy.

For them, their ship has sailed,
Their bus has departed,
Their flight took off,
If it was even theirs in the first place,
For the ravens have gobbled up the seeds.

And now the ravens gobble up their corpses.
"Come, gather together for the great supper of God,”
An angel in the sun declares,
“So that you may eat the flesh of kings,
Of generals,
And of the mighty,
Of horses and their riders,
And the flesh of all people,
Free and slave, great and small."

I say, their glory was the vainest glory of them all
And clung to it all in vain did they all
A puff poofed
A bubble popped
A snap of the fingers they have given their lives to
And gone now is both benefactor and beneficiary.

Therefore now, as a family receives the awaited bride
The angels receive the risen faithful down the aisle
While they froth with tears,
With rapturous voices,
With joy.
Hayley May 2018
This time I'm going to do the hermit thing right
Inner-work and self-love from morning to night  
Awareness of all my woes and insecurities  
Connecting with universal flows and obscurities
Going into my depths, no human interference
Focusing on my soul, not my appearance
Transmuting all my deep pain into sweet pleasure
While turning these dark coals into beautiful treasure
This focus and expansion is serving me well
Returning to my inner heaven, away from this hell
XIII Sep 2017
Did you know?

That if you tried to resurrect
someone who's already dead,
you'll create a homunculus
human transmute,
the same person but with its humanity already lost.
Inspired by Fullmetal Alchemist anime series.
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2015
One day gone in the long great forest
Of the ancient world, wolves alone
And mighty hungered with true kin
Stalking the tundras of the snow drifts
And all their prey, with cautionary eyes
Moved in heards and flocks swaying
With the sounds of the forest floor
And the spearing grasses.  The wolf
Was his own master, free, unbounded.
A great spirit, brother to the moon.

One dying day, when the bushes burned
They came upon the garbage dumps
Of early man.  Their smoke was laden
With the smell of fresh ****, small skins,
Animals, ended trail, and salted death.
Many wolves circled in fear, their pits,
Only one or a few tasted the left overs
The easy scraps and bones, tailings,
The elder pack would not stoop for.
These few unguarded wolves morphed
And mated with each other, their mane
And fur, soon was tamed, soon became
Mottled and brown no silver remaining.
This was the fall of the wolf, not man
And the moon turned white, when wolf
Became dog.
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