#judas
How little we consider the heat of the sun
When we boil and there is nothing we've done
To the begotten Son who took all of our sin
He was clean and blameless, yet he lost so we could win
To have your own mother weep, nothing she can do
Simon helping him up, even he had no clue
How heavy a cross is when the entire world willed it
To hate sin so much, yet become it
From the sixth hour until the ninth hour
You chose to give all power
Lashed 39 times, became unrecognizable
Yet your love for us all was undeniable
To have your father turn his back on you
For a promise made to a world that betrayed
What was his point of view
To take every slash, and be slayed
"It is Finished" Tetelestai
Gan Eden, Paradise
A promise to sinners, they know not what they've done
Even as we mocked him, spat on him, made fun
3 days he rose, with no hard feelings
Found by Mother Mary, she had faith through the ceiling
Little denial her son came back to her
Even the guards at his tomb couldn't confer
Romans 1:16: "For I am not ashamed of the gospel, for it is the power of God for salvation to everyone who believes".
And do not be deceived by the easy life you perceive
Our crown of thorns is existing still in this world
And thus we spread his word to counteract the disrespect hurled
At Christ believers to turn the other cheek, and the pages of his gospel
To help the lost, lonely, broken and the Hostile
May we spread a love no flag can bring
Give a promise made only by the King
Jesus Christ of Nazareth
The Lamb, The savior, the Way, Gather In
His Name
Jan 29
Jan 29, 2026 at 7:44 PM UTC
You gave me a kiss in the Garden
after I offered you my body.
The silver weighed heavy in your hand,
but heavier still in my chest.
You said my name like a prayer,
but left it at the altar,
a sacrifice I never agreed to.
We met again at a crossroads
It was dark but your face was darker
Shrouded by the cloak you wore
Every shadow whispered your name,
and every silver coin
felt like a dagger pressed
against the pulse of my heart.
I walked among the olive trees,
your shadow trailing mine like a second skin.
Every step a confession,
every heartbeat a Judas song.
You offered nothing; I bled everything
and still, your hands were empty,
your eyes a mirror of the betrayal I could not escape.
Every shadow I met became a thief,
every word unspoken a lash upon my spine.
Stealing the warmth from my chest,
leaving a hollow drum of silver coins
where love had once dared to beat,
only the echo of my heartbeat
and the taste of betrayal on my tongue.
I felt the warmth of a memory
before it dissolved into venom,
the hollow rhythm of a heart betrayed—
its drum silent to all but itself.
They dragged me from the garden,
but the garden clung to my bones
Thorns where roses once were,
and a crown I never asked to wear
Why hast thou forsaken me?
Among serpents, their venom dripping, I kneel,
whispering psalms of forgiveness for a mercy long denied.
Oct 17, 2025
Oct 17, 2025 at 8:17 AM UTC
A Galilean has met the cross
His followers, all hope is lost
A crucifix, stuck in the mud
The ground beneath: soaked with blood.
The King of Jews, the cross it reads
The Romans laugh while he breaths
Forgive them Father, out he calls
And when he dies the temple falls.
His body hangs from the tree
And with his life he pays the fee
Of those who walk in evil's path
So they shan't feel Satan's wrath.
Another man from Bethany
Sings a separate melody
Although he finds his own tree
He swings from it far from free.
This man's greed bought him in
Forever known in history's sin
His death had paid no holy price
Nor did it win him paradise
Judas was this man's name
The silver coins won his fame
And while the Lord rises soon
Judas meets a lonely tomb.
Jan 14, 2025
Jan 14, 2025 at 9:29 AM UTC
Paint:
me in tar, dredged from your judas soul
Where you once stored my love:
a devotion-less hole
Truth:
A shame-bound train and you’re tied to its track
Hypocrisy:
A thrown boomerang always finds its way back
Pray:
with your queen in your false praise of god
Bury:
your guilt in her sanctimonious nod
“How loud must it scream
Before I will hear?”
Craft your hollow platitudes
Into your pious veneer
See,
I know
the putrid self-loathing
That screams from within
How loud must it scream
For you to accept your chagrin?
Nov 17, 2024
Nov 17, 2024 at 8:09 PM UTC
I can’t remember the first time I did it-
Flashing silver in the place of blood-true red inside my mouth.
To me, that was the worst. There was
no moment I could drag myself to,
screaming crying cowardly, and make it better.
No rhyme nor reason for the
twist inside of me.
At night I prayed for some forgiveness,
but I stopped going to Mass before my Confirmation and even I knew there could be no
True deliverance without repentance—
53 Hail Marys cannot do what crystal lemon AWESOME does to the pistons of my father’s pickup truck, not
when the engine is
Clutching to its grime
Clinging for synthetic, automated life to the decades worth of caked-on dirt and sludge that
Are what it knows.
Unwilling to be clean.
And so I do not step one foot in church,
Yet I cannot keep my eyes from my mother’s wooden carving of the Last Supper,
Wishing he would turn his eyes to me, as well,
Knowing that he won’t.
Gripping the tablecloth at family dinner,
Seeing my own hand as his, clutching his bag,
Iscariot, my brother, whom I know as though another self.
All sins are the same.
In my own way, I too betray the salt.
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 9:03 AM UTC
Oh what have I done
I have betrayed my own
How could it be
I shall hide and depart
Take what you need
Leave no trace behind
Play it safe
No turning back
I am ashamed of my doing
What have I become
I have played the victim
For the devil's deed is done
Will God save me now
I fear for what's to come
I shall run faster
Until I have nowhere to run
And die in abandonment
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 1:06 AM UTC
How many times I betrayed myself for two pennies of loneliness?
The act is so old, and after time, poverty is the best teacher,
But there are evergrey examples that never change;
I am one of them, for ever strange.
Did Judas' tinkling silvers burn brands into my hands?
Or by any chance, I am himself, suffering through centuries,
Living my own betrayal against myself and fans;
Just as I sold the prophet for the centuries?
Is there any chance that this world were real, all the happenings?
I truly suffered through histories and left behind all blessings,
Tormented by living and imagining;
I forgot everything about me.
Oct 6, 2019
Oct 6, 2019 at 11:58 AM UTC
Praise be the One who was, who is, and is to come!
The One who takes away the pain
The One who takes away the shame
The One who restores the lame
How beautiful is He!
I fall to his feet and plea
“Find favor in me”
I’ve betrayed you with a kiss and you still call me friend?!
How can this be?
I PRAY THAT ALL WILL SEE
Truly how beautiful is He!
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 6:58 PM UTC
Judy took the silverware,
More than thirty pieces;
Entered by the front alone,
She made it look so easy.
She carried off twelve settings,
And tongs and butter knives;
She covered then with velvet plush
To hide from curious eyes.
It turned out to be an inside job,
A sneak thief in daylight,
With more than thirty pieces,
Long tarnished in my sight.
Jan 4, 2019
Jan 4, 2019 at 11:03 AM UTC
When its emerald eye glimmers in the shadow of the dusty shelf above
I pause,
I sense a presense.
It is not unlike me to attribute human characteristics to inanimate objects.
Give them names and nicknames and quirky character traits based on how their forms bend.
In the flickering lights of a broke wicken sanctuary though, I do not do it out of habit.
I feel it and stare it back down and see my own reflection in the cracked gems that once were a soul.
A gaudy skull.
The kind you see in home video Indiana Jones tributes,
with hats stolen from someone’s parents,
and jackets stolen from someone else’s elder siblings,
and ketchup for blood.
The kind your quirky local manic pixie dream girl uses to hold incense.
The kind I’m about to waste my money on because I’m an adult now and I can use my millennial minimum wage however I want.
I do not become aware of the possessed nature of my new buddy until I take it back home and hear it snicker in the middle of the night.
I know it is the skull, for my roommate is not one to snicker.
(He chuckles when he’s hiding an opinion and has a villainous laugh when it’s coming from a place of sincerity, but that’s beside the point)
I know it’s laughing at me.
I know this for a fact.
It takes me three more nights to call it out on it because I’ve never been confronted with the issue of standing up to a haunted antique I took home from a secondhand shop, possibly owned by satan’s offspring.
But I’m twenty-one years old and still experiencing some firsts, I suppose.
The gaudy skull is exceptionally snarky.
In a way none of my named plants ever were.
Not even Gerard.
He comes for me for the garbage on the floor and the dust on the windowsill on which he’s propped up, and then later for my poor taste in chore-doing music.
I never ask for its name because I know for a fact he’ll make a game out of it
and I am not in the mood for entertaining ghosts.
I come to realise it all on my own a couple of weeks later.
Once the snark starts to wear off,
and domesticity settles in,
and shared quiet becomes comforting,
despite the circumstances.
It is Judas.
I know this for a fact.
You do not understand the extent to which I am certain that it is Judas.
I have never been so aware of someone’s origins in my entire life.
I bought this creepy item and it is now in my room and I’m developing a weird attachment to it and maybe occasionally use it as a paper-weight and it is Judas.
I feel it in my heart and know it inside of my skull that might be standing on someone else’s touchscreen windowsill
two thousand years in the future,
jade stones for eyes even though I specifically requested amber,
but you get ****** over by bureaucracy even after death.
How do I know it is Judas?
Because I feel him stare at me like he wants to kiss me late at night and sense him plotting my betrayal early morning.
I know it is that, for a fact, because I’ve felt this exact sensation before.
My **** edgy room decor is Judas.
I try to get him to admit it himself by talking of past lovers and reading aloud the surprising number of Jesus metaphor poems I have in my room.
I hate Jesus metaphors, but I do it for that sweet sensation of seeing someone trying to dodge the inevitable once it’s coming at them like a mule through Rome piloted by the son of god.
I know he’ll cave eventually and tell me
and I know it’ll be the same caliber of glorious news as Jesus coming out of his own cave of burial,
resurrected and preaching winning.
I know I’ll win.
And I think to myself that maybe I am in the mood to entertain and just haven’t found the right outlet yet.
Maybe history’s most infamous apostle is It.
The original sinner and the original rebel.
(I’m aware it’s technically Cain, the jealousy-ridden son of Adam and Eve, but I only ever count the gays)
Judas and I have bonded.
And I can tell he’s on the verge of telling me his dark and twisted backstory. Again, I have felt this sensation before.
And when it happens, we can talk
about what it’s like being demonised by the one you love
and being the odd one out in your devotee friend group, even though you eat bread and drink wine and worship metaphor just like them.
And how patriarchal institutions distort history to pedal the same tired spiel of everything having a place and everything being there for a reason.
But we both know that isn’t true
because neither of us feel like part of god’s plan or created in anyone’s image.
And we can listen to sad music about wanting to kiss the wrong people together.
And that’s all I ever wanted from a friendship.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:03 AM UTC
Classical Trumpism: Judas makes a strong and powerful betrayal.
Neo-Classical-Trumpism: *Adolph is a good friend of mine. He makes a strong
and powerful argument regarding purity.*
Contemporary Trumpism: I love and trust my little buddy, Kim.
Modern Trumpism: *Vlad, whom I trust with my marriage, makes a
reel strong and powerful argument.*
Trumpism: Sad, Sad, Sad. Witch hunt. There was no collusion.
Neo-Trumpism: *Crooked Malia and Sasha are to blame for the
collusion with Canada, Mexico and South America*.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
I've often heard that karma
is a witch
but with a different start
you...
you with your blackened heart
won't see it coming,
but I tell you this
it surely will arrive...
along with a Judas kiss.
As you've stabbed others in the back
sharp tongue like a knife
karma will creep up on you
it will tangle up your life
It won't matter which face
you wear
karma knows your many
and
karma doesn't care
You'll wonder why
it happens
you'll coyly ask "why me?"
feigning innocence, ignorance
lacking remorse and empathy
you shouldn't fool
with karma, but
too late to think of that
it will strip you of your pride
you'll feel it deep inside
though
the exact reason for your pain
you may not recognize
karma can't be fooled
you'll be haunted by your lies
I likely won't be there to see it...
see justice come around
but in my heart I know...
I know you will be found
you'll get your just "reward"
as you hold the losing Karma Kard!
Apr 28, 2018
Apr 28, 2018 at 9:44 AM UTC
When you feel betrayed,
Do not get even.
Do not let it keep you awake.
Forgive and have a good night's rest.
In the end,
You have forgiven and at peace.
Imagine how anxious Judas must have felt
After he betrayed Jesus?
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 9:24 AM UTC
Ya really gotta wonder
would he take it back
the silver to surrender
reversing in his tracks
Judas didn't have a choice
this role and part so played
not his will, or voice
twas God that did betray
Man is easy to manipulate
his mind weak and frail
to religiously capitulate
on the cross, destined to fail
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 2:29 PM UTC
He said,
Come down here!
I said,
When you're up there?
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
Leftovers...
Sometimes they eat just like a gourmet rocket ship
landed on the moon
And other times
Well, other times...
They could be the last stop just before the garbage can
The real Last Super.. After..
Realization.
.....for crimes that had never been comitted
If The Word says.. "I love you.. "
Which one woild it be?
Garbage returned?
Or
Garbage dumped out?
Pure Essence of Life..
pouring thru the space between fingers...
Now forgotten hand's Divine Givingness
Judas Price
Gold for Some
And bloods watery emptiness for others
****** for Greed
Death of Christ
Tears are the realness of a Mothers Touch taken away
Witnessed, by God's Own Law, Compassion.
Are their any who passed?
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
Hanging Ropes
Mine heart
A solitary room
But of shadows and redundant dust
Mine heart
You've set on a play Judas dart
The forbidden walls
Your hanging cute portrait
Every glimpse of you,is a vision doom
You're killing me
But the deeps inside me
Of where sorrowful blood flows
You pause my pulse
You leave me with hanging ropes
You're an aeronaut
You make me fly but with froozen feet
I'm comfortless
You've brimmed my soul with tormenting maggots
But I shall lie in peace on these ropes,a piece.
Hanging ropes
©Historian E.Lexano(P.h.D)
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:03 AM UTC
Dedicated for that person that I used to call my love.
I do not wish to gain anything from this, but...
The pardon of God, for betraying my wishes,
For my other half soul...
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
#112715 #4:25PM
“Banaag ko ang Wikang tugon;
O Giliw na siyang inaapuhap,
Sayo ang bituing salin sa tatsulok
Sayo ang kambal ng Langit at Dugo.”
Mala-unos ang bungang may diin.
Salawal ng kataga’t tugma’y banderitas na puti,
Doon nabuo ang Kasaysayang hindi makasarili.
May iilang Juang Hudas,
Bumalasubas sa Bayang itinakwil
Kaya’t suwail ang makabagong talinhaga –
May lalim sa pag-unawa
Bagkus ang isip ay libingan ng mga diktador
Na siyang puspos sa paghihikahos.
“Paumanhin, Giliw
Pagkat ang puso’y may gitgit.”
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC
Why, Judas why?
Your kissed became the treachery symbol
Sold your faith but hanged yourself and die
After you returned that thirty pieces of silver
Why, Judas why?
Might you have a big crisis for money?
A sick parent or child, perhaps
To cure their pain, but ‘twas cut in the story
You returned the dazzling silver
Might they’ve never fulfilled their promise
To never hurt your master
That’s why you weep unto your best
Why, Judas why
If the tree and the rope could talk, they’ll never lie
Might you’ve kissed the image of your master in the wind
Before you bid the world goodbye
10-26-2015
Mysterious Aries
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:34 PM UTC
**Nails to keep me held high
Looking down at what I love
Bleed me until i'm dry
For every moment I lost touch
I could never be your savior
And truthfully its my loss
I know we look good on paper**
But I feel like I'm more at home on this cross
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 8:20 PM UTC