#chapel
GO ! BELOVED MAN ~ go c r e a t e
YOU are the CENTRE OF CREATION
see these children in my embracing protection
I will send them when you are ready
we all float flying together confidently
but now you must L E A V E, descend
our forefingers are disengaging, a pattern paternal, forever humanity will remember
this gesture, TWO IN ONE, a HOLDING
and LETTING go, sign of
GRACEFUL DIVINE INSTRUCTION
I birth your progeny, birthing ALL WORLDS
this teen your son says : “BE not afraid”
he becomes angry
as you lounge hesitant, question or plead
he is impatient to elevate what you will manifest
but wait he must ~ ONLY I control TIME
I s t r e t c h Y O U, SON
I O P E N S K Y in the eternal Now
immersing myself in my creations
then letting them GO
this is NO FALL call it ART ~ MY COMMAND FOR YOU IS RISE then F ~ L~ Y
You are my CHOSEN
EYES to eyes
THE TIME IS NOW
recline no more in cloud beauty
endurance is your hallmark
ferocity tangos with LOVE
I will not forsake you
you will soar on my winds
they will carry your shapely limbs
ready groin will create at my bidding
your elegant strong fingers will caress
Question not MY IMAGE
man of man, woman of woman
curved ears hear, wide nostrils breathe life
Heart pumping into infinity
food will flow from hair to toe tip
ACT and RELAX, written into ****** constitution
Forever MICHELANGELO, Sculptor
humble Genius I saLute you, My own Creation
Son of Marbled Art
Yours sincerely, GOD
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 4:42 AM UTC
The Stained Glass windows
in the vestibule,
in the Back of the church,
of the last row pews.
Through the Entrance,
is how I come to view,
As we enter the Lord's House
Where Praises are due.
These Beautiful windows are
Out of sight,
a Beautiful view,
Bringing to us Delight,
A beautiful church,
a marvelous sight,
A feeling of Happiness, and
It feels so right,
When you are so full of Joy,
Through these stained Glass windows
Where The Sun Shines Bright!!!!
B.R.
Date: 1/14/2025
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 2:11 PM UTC
Chapel in the woods:
inside, the flames are flaring --
autumnal silence.
Nov 29, 2023
Nov 29, 2023 at 3:45 AM UTC
looked at you for too long
and then i realized
you are human, too
fallible
uncertain
flawed
piously pined for
palatial splendor i
placed in my dreams of you,
imperfect you
and it's no ones fault
a figure headed facade
fabricated by figments
of my frivolous imagination
put you on a pedestal
made you divine
made you holy
you, the ceiling
high above my head
and i, looking up
in the sistine chapel
untouchable
untarnished
couldn't see the cracks
beneath the varnish
then, close enough to study
a faint fresco with critical eyes
fantasy faded in the fault lines
of your frowning face
looked for too long
until i realized
you were just as broken as me
a collection of shattered pieces
shrouded and shy
once a shrine
now a shriek
wide eyes on you
a sinner, still
i called you sacred
ignoring the nature of
the irreverent, the profane
liked the luster
of longing lingering
on my lips
when i breathed your name
the veil torn
the truth beheld
and you are not god
gambling grief and
gleaming gloom
thought i could be
the sun to your moon
majesty to malignancy
momentarily merciful
moreover cruel
monstrous mr monsoon
after all, human, too
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 8:43 PM UTC
i stared at those stained glass doors
and it made me think about how i used to make them with you
it made me think about how i wish i could still be making that art
how i wish you were still here
so you could see how I've turned out
i wish you could meet her
i don't know what her and i are but she means everything to me
and i think you would've liked her
because i certainly do
that little chapel at the hospital
it makes me think of you and her and a little bit of everything
that colorful glass makes me wish you were still here
it makes me wish that i could understand her more
it makes me realize that i truly am lost in love with her
and that's terrifying to me but i know you would've loved to hear me talk about all of how this feels
i wish i were still making stained glass up in the room upstairs
maybe i could make her something, i feel like she would like that
it made me think about how i wish i had found spirituality sooner
because honestly it has made a world of difference for me
and only for the greater
i wish i were more open about that with her
because she's so ****** chill about that **** and you would be so baffled
i wish i had had the courage to just walk through those chapel doors earlier
i know i don't believe in that sorta thing
but i would've loved to see the stained glass that lay beyond that door
maybe i could've pondered upon the future in there
thought about a wedding in the future that probably won't happen in a church
thought about how it would've been to witness you two interacting
thought about everything that's been puzzling my mind as of late
but i didn't step into the chapel
and i just ponder outside of the space of believing
Nov 19, 2018
Nov 19, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
what a strange sight to see,
sunlight streaming through windows;
the gentle touch of fiery radiance,
falling on silver pillars and plastic handles
draping over broken plastic seats
with the same ceremony and caress
inside a bus as it would in a chapel
on this quiet journey homeward,
I have found peace
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 6:31 AM UTC
Double hinged doors can only swing so wide.
Jester all of us, beckon us to place a token of our time.
Light the halls, embroidered walls make them stand tall.
For without our greed, it would crumble with ease.
All of us bring our broken will.
No place for that heavenly grace.
Disgrace to our race.
White wand in hand.
They unleash the “lord’s commands”
“Follow with a blind eye”, oh what a surprise.
Written word followed by the glorious herd makes them heard.
Abracadabra! Everyone claps. We are all cleansed of our deeds.
A messenger of the purist form laid down to die, for us.
His messages, “Stone is rigid, nothing is forgiven. “
“You lead! Place the crown upon your cranium.”
“Show me how much you can explain to him.”
His last words, “With arms open wide, I accept this punishment.”
Priest lying down his book, boils to ashes.
We knew this would last.
Our lord has gone.
Doors open wide.
Black.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
She came to me
within a dream
Somewhere there
betwixt and between
Where all you see
cannot always be believed
And all is more
beautiful than
can ever be
known or seen
My eyes were amazed
by the wondrous sight
She standing before me
as though devine
Crying Her tears
of golden light
Her words were sure
Her grief then true
I could not begin
to comprehend
what I saw
and what I knew
In this moment
She was
perfect and pure
She wept as She spoke
of a great disgrace
The destruction of
an Holy Place
where We once
there were wed
A sacred chapel
where solemn vows
were said
Gone it's gone
it has been destroyed
Her cries of anguish
tore at my heart
I could not believe
such tragedy occurred
My words were
They couldn't
They never would
This is just a rumor
that you have heard
The chapel is protected
by law and truth
and by the powers
from all above
She was there
but just a little while
My eyes then opened
and I recognized
She had been with me
She had appeared
This was the moment
I knew it all was
so very real
I then heard
the blast of horns
from the great ship's
on the LA Bay
And knew I must find out
I must go back
and see someday
I traveled far
I journeyed high
But still I wondered
if the chapel stood
Knowing I must
go back there
To know what must
and should be seen
to be understood
Time then went on
as several years
they came and then went
I remembered and decided
I must go back to see
if this Holy place
might still exist
As though on
a mission sent
My travels went beyond
and then I returned
to that city where
my life there once was
I went there to see
If the chapel remained
But when I arrived
the chapel was gone
Real and a fact
The evidence seen
A vision of an Angel
who seemingly Devine
therein descended within
a lucid dream
The purest
of knowledge
The absolute Truth.
Mystery or Mysticism
It is all just what it seems.
-R.
2.22.17
-LA
-4MAR
Aug 13, 2017
Aug 13, 2017 at 2:48 PM UTC
In the small school chapel
Martha stood in front
of the black wood crucifix
high on the wall
if she stood on tiptoe
she could just about
touch the plaster paris
Crucified's
nailed feet
the chapel was empty
no sound
smell of incense
and old bricks
and aged bodies
of old nuns who once
fumed here
Martha stood on tiptoe
and kissed the Crucified's
nailed feet with her lips
soft lips on paster feet
Jesus I want
to be your bride
want to hold
you close
want to
have you near
let your ears hear
she whispered
she went back
on her feet
watched the Crucified
His arms outstretched
His nailed hands
like claws
His eyes looking skywards
not particularly hairy
like her father was
not under the arms
or chest
she mused
what are you doing here
Martha Maguire?
A nun said
creeping up
behind her
having slid in
like a shadow
from the cloister
Martha turned around
talking to the Crucified
Martha said
eyeing the tubby nun
why are you not
in class?
The nun said
Martha turned back
to gaze at the Crucified
wanted to talk to Him
she said
not during class-time
the nun said
now get
on to your class
and don't be here
during school time
understand me?
Martha gazed
at the Crucified's eyes
heavenward gazing
His hands nailed cruelly
if I could
Martha said
I'd unnail Him
take Him
in my arms
and hug Him
to being better
the nun frowned
gazed at the back
and backside
of the Maguire girl
will you get yourself
off to class Maguire
I won't tell you again
or you'll being having
a ruler across
your palms once more
Martha sighed
she thought she saw
the Crucified eye her
but couldn't be sure.
Apr 3, 2016
Apr 3, 2016 at 9:00 AM UTC
On the night
I learn about Demitri Allison I smoke and I cry
And I drink
And I try
And I talk
And I laugh
Like I ain’t me
I look in the mirror
And I look in the mirror
And I see
And I look
Again
I reflect
And I respect
This shell that leaves me without helmet
Exposed
To the elements
Prison
Statistics
Poor
Health
And I wanna go home
Let my family know I am not
A brown boy falling from
3000 miles up
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
I stumbled upon a chapel last night
Inside was a man with a mirrored face gesturing for me to enter
He does not speak but continues to motion and reflect my demeanour
Hesitant to oblige, I survey the inner-workings of the religious structure
No where in my sight lies the truth
A building built on lies and stories
Fables and myths
The man says " You feel lost little sheep, please flock to the power, for I am you, no longer shall you scour, you found yourself within these walls"
I reply
" You are not me, you are a just a reflection, A manifestation caused by fears and I will make peace with what I am by searching inside of me
Not flocking like sheep to a fabled entity"
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:01 PM UTC
Loud minds in the silent chapel,
Echoes of desperate prayers.
Hope settled in their seeing eyes.
Words that their ears, caught not.
Mar 30, 2013
Mar 30, 2013 at 9:38 AM UTC
**** me in the sistine chapel
with your lips against my neck
and your breath still hot and lingering
"at least she died happy," they'll say
"or least, 'happy' for being...her"
when i take my last breath,
it is't michelangelo's masterpieces
on the ceiling i'll be focused on
it's you i want to see before i go
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
I used to walk to the chapel often
at least every weekend, sometimes more.
I'd gather up my friends and we'd head out.
Sometimes there were 6 of us, sometimes only 2.
Walking to the chapel was an experience of freedom from our every day lives --
from our schoolwork especially.
Walking to the chapel was an experience of living life to its fullness
drinking in the smell of the water, of the trees, of the season.
Drinking in each other, and the friendship we shared.
Sometimes we walked to the chapel, sometimes we ran;
Always the joy pouring out of us, the fresh energy of youth, and the
raw emotion of our shared relationships.
We walked to the chapel, but then we also floated there:
carried by our love of the land, the water, our curiosity, and each other.
Walking to the chapel was a sacred experience.
Tonight we walked to the chapel again;
This time a group of 5 --
two parents, three children -- together.
We smelled the water and the trees,
we felt the warm breeze.
We walked together -- one unit -- and yet each of us free.
The children running ahead, the baby carried.
The adults joined now in care not only of themselves,
but of the little ones they helped create.
The beauty of the place heightened by the beauty of being a family.
The emotions of days past, the joy, the freedom, the experience of life, they rise up.
We are a family.
We exist to help each other.
We find joy, delight in one another.
We are free to love life in all its glory;
to be uniquely ourselves,
and yet bound together in love.
Walking to the chapel as a family is dynamically life-giving,
and an example of holiness.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
Inside my brain
There is a tornado
Spinning to infinity and beyond.
God only knows how fast.
My shoulders ache and my feet cramp.
My wrists click
And my eyes go damp.
Inside my brain instead is a monsoon:
A tumultuous storm that rages on.
Waves froth and smash,
Beating against the backs of my eyeballs.
Sometimes they find their way
Down my soft spotted cheeks.
My lashes float to the earth
One by one by one by one.
Would you collect them for me
Like discarded flower petals
Down the aisle of my soul's chapel
And press them into a scrapbook
Full of twisted memories?
Inside my brain is an H2O tornado
Like reckless rainstorm pirouettes.
My swirling view is blurred,
But every so often
I catch a clear picture
Of the glowing whites of your eyes
And I remember to fill my lungs,
Head above the water,
And breathe.
Twirl, twist.
Wind, mist.
But don't panic,
Because every so often
I catch a clear picture
Of you.
Mar 28, 2014
Mar 28, 2014 at 4:40 PM UTC