#incarnation
Your Eyes, In Every Life
I would know your eyes in every life
In every incarnation, I would find you
Sep 20, 2021
Sep 20, 2021 at 8:21 PM UTC
I don't why i punish myself
is it even punishment ?
am i being dramatic ?
is there parts of my past i don’t truly forgive myself for ?
i feel ****** up
i have ****** up but to think my life is not amongst the worst makes me even more depleted
..depleted, depleted
why should i be defeated ?
please help me ascend
i’m just a wounded soul, one of many
and i cant go round again
Jan 19, 2021
Jan 19, 2021 at 5:40 PM UTC
I wish I were as powerful and beautiful and mysterious as a storm.
I want to be the biting sting and soothing saturation in every drop of rain.
I want to exist as the current of electromagnetism that surges and scintillates through every bolt of lightning.
I want to be as elusive and unpredictable as the unsettled wind.
I want there to be no doubt I AM here, no doubt I WAS here, and absolute uncertainty of my return.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 11:44 AM UTC
As John put it
The incarnated word,
Saint Mary was entitled
To feed Her *******
And Hold, but whom
Juda the culprit
For 30 birr sold
Is almighty God.(John 1:1John 1:12.John 8:58)
Here it should pop up
To your attention
"God is with you!"
Saint Gabriel's to
The Immaculate felicitation.
So God,
Christ is a presiding judge
An inch do not budge
Hearing shallow teachings
Quite strange
Christ killers-turned
-Christ-peddlers on many
A religious forum stage.
As Canaan, awaits
Them a curse
For trying to belittle Christ
Intent to line up their purse.
On the cross
It was the incarnated word
That allowed the repentant
Shieftan on his right
The first greenlight
To heaven of course.
Witnessing
His sons'
Polar opposite deeds
Noah better felt
The visitation of God
In Shem's tent.(Genesis 9:18-27)
Hence God's incarnation
That still reflect
Are entitled
Membership to the tent,
Which personifies
Saint Mary
The immaculate.
Thus, as the
Chosen generation
True to
Saint Mary's prophesy
Let us echo "The Graceful
And the immaculate!"
Evading Satan's
Yet another bait.
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 8:27 AM UTC
A day came to light....
Sun smiled....
Very bright.....
Showing his happiness...
Clouds applauded....
Started the decorations.....
Everyone got on with....
The preparations....
A beautiful phenomena was....
About to occur....
Heavens laughed....
And danced with all....
Of their might.....
They knew....
Someone special....
Is about to come.....
Which will make everyone.....
Freeze and stunned....
The rainbow.....
Guided the way.....
Plants and trees......
Were all happy and hay.....
The moon was....
Seeing it all....
From the windows....
Behind the curtains.....
Then....
At last....
The moment came....
A thing of beauty......
Came down.......
Everyone was amazed....
All around....
It was a beautiful....
And lovely situation......
I guess...
An angelic.....
Incarnation....
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 3:20 AM UTC
Is this evolution we call—
Ppl becoming things
(so that)
things become of people;
Ppl becoming parts
(so that)
parts come tgt to
become people—?
Is that not what
all there is to life...
An act
(of)
parts masquerading as wholes
as hosts mastering over themselves
as us
at the center of this all
is the substance of reverie
;
at the core of this bawl
is the call of life.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 6:17 PM UTC
Ecstasy mire in its own sorrow,
As if a ghost makes love to its shade.
The wooden door merely holds the knock;
Instead it punches out within the walls,
Dispersed as if a blow of clay.
There the sound hauls up a craft:
Foul of the wooden scent.
Just as it intertwines with cloisters,
The curves are lined into a silhouette.
The mountainous fogs are sharpened,
The apex is buttoned and round.
The matter it is that shapes the core:
The mere marriage of soul and dust.
How a flesh can tease its craft,
As it gnaws on a clavicle(?)
The ghost sips on a river,
As if making love to its shade.
Feb 8, 2018
Feb 8, 2018 at 4:59 AM UTC
I was born from the ashes of fear, guilt and shame.
Cut me into pieces and I will grow separately from all the blood-spattered pieces of my being.
Freer than before.
I have those cuts hidden somewhere under my skin.
I still breath through unhealed wounds.
I still bleed every month.
I still believe in lies.
I still choose the wrong path.
I don't need your religion to believe in myself.
I don't need you to wipe my blood stains.
I don't need you to tell me what's right.
Not this time.
Burn me and every inch of my flesh will explode viciously to reborn again and again.
Fierce than before.
My blood is still boiling and running through my fresh veins.
I won't let you drown in the hollowness
I won't immolate myself
I won't give you a chance to carry my burned flesh.
I won't follow these path of illiberal rules.
I don't want you to compromise your love.
I don't want you to devour the poison.. alone.
I don't want you to suffer ..just because you are supposed to.
Not this time..
Not this time.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 1:56 PM UTC
Sometime an umbrella’s just a rabbit
and sometimes horses are never to be rode upon.
Sometimes a mother’s tears are foolish
and sometimes sons don’t want to come home.
Sometimes pearly whites and smiles surround
and sometimes teeth detach and dagger backs.
But a dream is just that, “a dream is just that” –
but a wandering, but a dread, if only damnation;
and a “ta, tada, aha!” The wizard’s returned before
we realize we’re all magic, fooled and the foolish –
Incarnations, infestations, imaginations,
and messes come ends, damnations, the victims.
Heaping distress and all of our own accord,
your accord, our accord, notarized the
Nooses ‘round our necks.
Oct 22, 2016
Oct 22, 2016 at 12:26 AM UTC
Led by foreign madness, we
- to long expected sleepless graves -
will swim to sink and drown in numbers
weighted down beneath the waves
with nothing left inside but shadows;
no-one left of worth to save
In one end and out the other,
warring with psychotic pride, then
born again and made to suffer
- karmic purpose ill-forgotten -
each new chance at life, a buffer:
"Next time: change..." we chant inside.
Cycles written, history leaking,
sorely weeping through the pores
of growing wombs and offspring born
- another child of soulless form -
to breastfeed lies, imprisoned, shrieking
time again: disease repeating.
Sin ingested (soup for poor)
- the bile of shame and burden lost -
as people starve and lives are sold
and terrors planned to mind control...
and all the while our sickened bodies
hover, rotting, rank with worry.
Toll the bells - it's time to breathe
and **** this horror from our conscience;
steer ourselves towards a pardon,
pave the way, resume our garden
seeding spirit, heart, and mind
with growth to bloom for one last time
or we, the people, incarnating,
won't survive beyond our mating.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 8:28 AM UTC
Yesterday, was yesterday and yesterday makes me happy today
I can stand, I can even stand to think, long alone thoughts
when I four to compared to when I was ten more
looking over Norfolk shores building and breaking
moulding and making my time with my family and there Eternal Bliss
I have no worthy words for them
I will see them when I die because I know even then I'l still be ten
I'l still be building sand castles while the ocean creeps in on me
Then, as swift rain
I'l pour into incarnation again
to do my best to help my guest to join me on that Norfolk shore
with all that I adore and so much more
Jun 29, 2015
Jun 29, 2015 at 2:03 PM UTC
Late last night
Some sadistic succubus cursed me,
I entertained a horrific vision.
An enraged young man held a grudge
Like a passionate mother holds a new born.
The grudge inspired the shedding of my blood,
Murdered before I realized,
That I could no longer conceptualize
What I was.
Was what I saw suggesting that
The proceeding day will bring a new pain?
If not a new pain for me,
It could be for someone out there,
Somewhere out there,
An incarnation
Of lost generations.
Originally written 4/29/11
Revised 10/20/14
(c) 2014 Brandon Antonio Smith
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
most of my life I have tried to keep
appearances and show the world
that I was a strong confidant young man
I smiled my polite smile as I was dying inside,
so afraid to share with any other human being
all the shame and guilt I kep buried deep inside
I have a fellowship of people today,
where our common weakness unites us
and we find strength in mutual vulnerability
when I embrace my weakness,
I allow God to enter into me
through my wounds
how easily I forget along with the rest of the world
that God chose to meet us face to face in weakness,
in a flesh like mine
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 8:33 PM UTC