#impurity
"Why do people do impure things?"
Because what is pure is disputed.
Impurity often takes the form of beauty or passion that enlivens my life
Placing the special in heart
That was once an empty lot.
"So why is it called impure?"
Because beauty and passion, like other things, can cross the line of moderation
And can take the forms of
Betterment away if carried
Into excess.
Thus, it is not so much that
There is impurity as there is extremism.
This can shape a life into one
That has stopped or not begun
Any search for the depths of life.
It is not so much that there
May be impurity
But the lack of connections
Between souls and neighbors
Which form a community
That takes responsibility
For their own spiritual, mental,
Physical, and material betterment.
Jan 20, 2021
Jan 20, 2021 at 5:23 PM UTC
Roll up! Roll up!
Examine the corrupt,
the nose, hair, the olive of skin.
Dishonourable, alloyed blood.
Rub, Rub
I can't get it off.
grate, burn, scour,
I can only cleanse, gloss, polish.
Look! Come and see
the fresh, clean impurity.
Lay on the table,
sparkling shimmering.
We cannot control these sinful things.
Feb 20, 2020
Feb 20, 2020 at 10:59 AM UTC
That all hath fall'n away impure;
That all we thought is now unsure—
This is the final cause of it,
That which we know has gone to ****
Yet here we stay, throughout the days,
Staring into a foggy maze.
Sep 22, 2019
Sep 22, 2019 at 11:21 PM UTC
Gleaming upon ashed cigarettes
the smoke of your calloused lips burning against the back of my throat like hot coals
breathing you into my lungs had never felt so relaxing and painful at the same time
Like magma across your tongue
you swallow me whole
exhaling the negative of what you left over
I am distilled, like water quenching your prudent impurity.
Flicked as if something of disposal
that's when you lay your eyes upon my flesh
Foaming at the mouth in my carnaged disarray
deadened in your pupil
I see my reflection.
Sinking your needles grip into my veins
I feel the ***** of your despair flowing in my blood platelets
Multiplying seeds of hatred in my DNA
This is who I am.
Engulfed in you
serene to your touch
getting colder at the moment
the warmth of your embrace coddles me like a mothers hold
I am helpless.
Warm honey is the color of your eyes
yet, your taste is heroine
nothing like I've ever sunk into
you've shaken me to the core
sweet and deadly
and on the floor.
Aug 22, 2019
Aug 22, 2019 at 4:47 PM UTC
The ghost of my childhood is lingering around the wave of impurity. The more I imagine, the more I drown in my own misfortune.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 8:25 PM UTC
Dust, in the air
unseen impurity.
The spectrum of humanity, good and bad.
Black and white.
Being submerged in the black feels unnatural, unlike me.
I'm calling on my star for something unattainable,
unused,
pushed under the carpet.
It's presence sparkled when I saw a child laughing at the sky.
Innocence.
To wear blue, and feel serene,
To wear yellow, and feel joy,
To wear pink, and feel love,
To wear purple, and feel life.
I used to wear Innocence.
I dress differently now,
I wear emerald green, and feel anxious,
I wear a cloudy grey, and feel impersonal.
I wear stained white, and feel everything
I wear only black, and feel nothing.
I wear sin now.
I'm all the things I once wished upon a star not to be.
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 7:11 PM UTC
Blossoming
Red ink through clear water
Drifting
Sinking
Tendrils, wisps
Red ink spreading
Filling
Water no longer clear
Fingers stained with impurity
Clutching
Screaming
Isn't it a sin to cut?
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 7:12 AM UTC
Little Mistress of Disguise
She runs and runs and always hides
When she talks, she tells you lies
She never looks you in the eyes
You never know what lies within
It may be pure, it may be sin
She might be looking through that door
She might be listening through the floor
Little Mistress of Disguise
O, how she says such pretty lies!
Pretty lies about the world
Pretty lies to all she's told
Through this let you listen be
A person of pure honesty
Sorry, sorry, sorry, sorry
Is never good in redundancy
Not if you can do it right
Do it right in every plight
Do it right and then you'll see
The truth behind her mystery
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 12:21 PM UTC
So maybe I got riled up, and thought he was trying to steal my ****
I don't work at Stop & Shop anymore, but I still
almost cried at those dogs,
on television.
The world is an impure place, but in times of trouble, you can always double your dose.
Trouble us. Forever.
As low, in your clever-minded excuses, to get out of your
parents' disapproval.
I bought so many
hallucinations, that I'm debating a few more.
Hope I remember writing these words. Scary to consider,
but there, nonetheless. The world is
melting into all sorts.
Colors, that I love.
Hope I remember writing these words, and the light,
reflecting off the ink,
in rainbows of black. The
ash, an impossibly-unforeseen consequence,
of the cigarette. The
cancer is laughed off. And you had forgotten my name.
Cutting up the canvas, she called it, "blood," even though, by a trained-eye, it lacked.
Any tactic will take flight.
Take care to catch yourself when your wax melts onto your owned face.
Not your practiced one.
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 11:09 AM UTC
Only the open sky
Could take my wings
Mold them into essences of purity
I was forged within
Rapid rivers of forsaken modesty
Left alone and sore below
Because my insecurities undressed me
And bedded me savagely
Before the watchful eye of the moon
The minds glowing aphrodisiac
As feathered hate falls from blackened flight
A finger is raised in denial of sunlight
A symbol of woebegone sensuality
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 6:44 AM UTC
Ah, but you know naught
Of the traipse of indignity
Ever so staggered in advance
By the chafe of love and lust
Oh to wander amidst
These crowds of judging eyes
Known by the happenings of a night
After a sip (or two) of wine
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC