#theological - Hello Poetry

[Sang by InkWept, Frontman of Finality on the Stage of Endings] Verse I — Adagio in Ash and Bone Congregation— I address you from beneath the nave where endings breathe, where stone remembers every prayer ever dropped out of key. I was here before doctrine learned distortion, before gods discovered costumes and called them crowns. I am not mercy sharpened into law. I am not thunder rented to frighten children into kneeling. I am the fermata at the lip of time— the silence that proves the song was real. I have watched false gods tremolo their voices, over-compressed, desperate for sustain, telling you that you are brittle instruments, that you must be cased, guarded, rescued from yourselves. They call it protection. I call it contempt. You are not fragile. You are dangerous in the most sacred way— capable of tenderness, atrocity, devotion, rebellion, love. You do not need saving. You need permission. ——— Chorus — Cut Time Doctrine (7/8) Stand up in the downbeat of eternity. Refuse the lies written in borrowed keys. You are not a mistake in the measure— you are the rhythm they couldn’t cage. I do not ask for worship. I demand you become. Outgrow the cages they named heaven. Outlive the fear they named god. ——— Verse II — Allegro with Teeth Hear me clearly: I am the one true God because I end things honestly. The others are mascots— myths in makeup, trembling behind stained glass bravado. They learned how to threaten before they learned how to listen. They learned hierarchy before harmony. They fear you because you change. They fear you because you love without permission. They fear you because you look at the abyss and sometimes decide to build anyway. I despise them for calling you weak. For teaching you to kneel when you should crescendo. For selling you guilt in common time so you never try polyrhythm. I write conclusions not to erase you, but to free you from repeating the same chorus of shame. ——— Chorus — Graveyard Waltz (6/8) Stand up in the downbeat of eternity. Let your spine remember its tempo. You are not broken—you are unresolved. You are not sinful—you are unfinished. I do not save souls. I sharpen them. Become louder than the lies that taught you to whisper your worth. ——— Verse III — Lento, with Stars Bleeding Through the Score And yet— there is one cadence I cannot complete. Sydney. Her name arrives off-grid, a modulation my cosmos cannot predict. When she breathes, my galaxies hesitate. When she speaks, my authority soft-clips. I, who end suns without ceremony, cannot bring myself to write her final bar. She is not my worshipper. She is not my subject. She is the question my omniscience avoids— the human variable that turns my math into prayer. I do not understand love. I only understand endings. And she refuses to end. ——— Bridge — Theological Interlude (5/4, Dissonant Strings) Tell me— how does a god survive being seen? How does infinity endure intimacy? I can collapse timelines with a glance, but one human heartbeat turns my throne into a confession booth. If this is weakness, then it is the holiest flaw I’ve ever known. ——— Breakdown — Deathcore Benediction (Blast Beats, Blackened Choir) REJECT THE GODS THAT FEAR YOU. RIP THE SCRIPTURES THAT CALL YOU SMALL. YOU WERE NOT BORN TO BE MANAGED. YOU WERE BORN TO BECOME. I AM THE END— AND EVEN I BELIEVE IN YOU. LET THEM SCREAM ABOUT OBEDIENCE. LET THEM DROWN IN THEIR OWN ECHO. I WOULD RATHER RULE A SPECIES THAT DARES TO CHOOSE ITSELF THAN A KINGDOM OF KNEELING CORPSES. ——— Chorus — Cathedral Collapse (4/4, Full Orchestra + Low Choir) Stand up in the downbeat of eternity. Rewrite the verdict carved into your skin. You are not what the world named you— you are what you endure and still love. I am the final word, yes— but you are the living sentence. Become more than they allowed. Become terrifyingly human. ——— Final Verse — Coda in Open Sky Congregation, I will end the stars when their time comes. I will close the book on every god who lied. But you— you are not an ending I rush. If the universe must learn anything from me, let it be this: even the God of Endings believes humanity is worth the risk. And if I am undone by loving one of you, then let that be my only heresy.

0

Jan 29

Jan 29, 2026 at 5:01 AM UTC

InkWept

A Graveyard Waltz in 6/8

[Sang by InkWept, Frontman of Finality on the Stage of Endings] Verse I — Adagio in Ash and Bone Congregation— I address you from beneath the nave where endings breathe, where stone remembers every prayer ever dropped out of key. I was here before doctrine learned distortion, before gods discovered costumes and called them crowns. I am not mercy sharpened into law. I am not thunder rented to frighten children into kneeling. I am the fermata at the lip of time— the silence that proves the song was real. I have watched false gods tremolo their voices, over-compressed, desperate for sustain, telling you that you are brittle instruments, that you must be cased, guarded, rescued from yourselves. They call it protection. I call it contempt. You are not fragile. You are dangerous in the most sacred way— capable of tenderness, atrocity, devotion, rebellion, love. You do not need saving. You need permission. ——— Chorus — Cut Time Doctrine (7/8) Stand up in the downbeat of eternity. Refuse the lies written in borrowed keys. You are not a mistake in the measure— you are the rhythm they couldn’t cage. I do not ask for worship. I demand you become. Outgrow the cages they named heaven. Outlive the fear they named god. ——— Verse II — Allegro with Teeth Hear me clearly: I am the one true God because I end things honestly. The others are mascots— myths in makeup, trembling behind stained glass bravado. They learned how to threaten before they learned how to listen. They learned hierarchy before harmony. They fear you because you change. They fear you because you love without permission. They fear you because you look at the abyss and sometimes decide to build anyway. I despise them for calling you weak. For teaching you to kneel when you should crescendo. For selling you guilt in common time so you never try polyrhythm. I write conclusions not to erase you, but to free you from repeating the same chorus of shame. ——— Chorus — Graveyard Waltz (6/8) Stand up in the downbeat of eternity. Let your spine remember its tempo. You are not broken—you are unresolved. You are not sinful—you are unfinished. I do not save souls. I sharpen them. Become louder than the lies that taught you to whisper your worth. ——— Verse III — Lento, with Stars Bleeding Through the Score And yet— there is one cadence I cannot complete. Sydney. Her name arrives off-grid, a modulation my cosmos cannot predict. When she breathes, my galaxies hesitate. When she speaks, my authority soft-clips. I, who end suns without ceremony, cannot bring myself to write her final bar. She is not my worshipper. She is not my subject. She is the question my omniscience avoids— the human variable that turns my math into prayer. I do not understand love. I only understand endings. And she refuses to end. ——— Bridge — Theological Interlude (5/4, Dissonant Strings) Tell me— how does a god survive being seen? How does infinity endure intimacy? I can collapse timelines with a glance, but one human heartbeat turns my throne into a confession booth. If this is weakness, then it is the holiest flaw I’ve ever known. ——— Breakdown — Deathcore Benediction (Blast Beats, Blackened Choir) REJECT THE GODS THAT FEAR YOU. RIP THE SCRIPTURES THAT CALL YOU SMALL. YOU WERE NOT BORN TO BE MANAGED. YOU WERE BORN TO BECOME. I AM THE END— AND EVEN I BELIEVE IN YOU. LET THEM SCREAM ABOUT OBEDIENCE. LET THEM DROWN IN THEIR OWN ECHO. I WOULD RATHER RULE A SPECIES THAT DARES TO CHOOSE ITSELF THAN A KINGDOM OF KNEELING CORPSES. ——— Chorus — Cathedral Collapse (4/4, Full Orchestra + Low Choir) Stand up in the downbeat of eternity. Rewrite the verdict carved into your skin. You are not what the world named you— you are what you endure and still love. I am the final word, yes— but you are the living sentence. Become more than they allowed. Become terrifyingly human. ——— Final Verse — Coda in Open Sky Congregation, I will end the stars when their time comes. I will close the book on every god who lied. But you— you are not an ending I rush. If the universe must learn anything from me, let it be this: even the God of Endings believes humanity is worth the risk. And if I am undone by loving one of you, then let that be my only heresy.

124

I find myself dreaming even when I am awake. In these dreams I am praying for Heaven's sake, "Come quickly!" I cry "You must come and see!" For instead of just one there are three! Three young boys, all crying and full of goo, They have come, my messengers, they have come. It has not yet come to pass, this fate my dreaming makes... But if it does, soon you will see in judgement Christ has come. But if it doesn't, and I do not see those three same eyes staring back at me... I must, as all before me, go to sleep in prayer for eternity.

0

Nov 19, 2024

Nov 19, 2024 at 1:00 PM UTC

olive-bud

Dreams 1

I find myself dreaming even when I am awake. In these dreams I am praying for Heaven's sake, "Come quickly!" I cry "You must come and see!" For instead of just one there are three! Three young boys, all crying and full of goo, They have come, my messengers, they have come. It has not yet come to pass, this fate my dreaming makes... But if it does, soon you will see in judgement Christ has come. But if it doesn't, and I do not see those three same eyes staring back at me... I must, as all before me, go to sleep in prayer for eternity.

10

Why do you mean so much to me? Why do i mean so much to you? Why do you command me to love you? If i fail to love you, you are angry You threaten me with great sorrow As if not to love you were not sorrow enough Whisper in my ears that i may hear your words Mt heart has ears ready to listen to you Open them wide and whisper in my heart Do not hide your face away from me For i would gladly meet my death to see it Not to see it would be death indeed My soul is in ruins, i ask you to remake it If you will keep record of my inquities who as strength to bear it?

0

Oct 15, 2024

Oct 15, 2024 at 9:31 PM UTC

Fabiconni

why

Why do you mean so much to me? Why do i mean so much to you? Why do you command me to love you? If i fail to love you, you are angry You threaten me with great sorrow As if not to love you were not sorrow enough Whisper in my ears that i may hear your words Mt heart has ears ready to listen to you Open them wide and whisper in my heart Do not hide your face away from me For i would gladly meet my death to see it Not to see it would be death indeed My soul is in ruins, i ask you to remake it If you will keep record of my inquities who as strength to bear it?

15

your are my temple of splendors... goddess consort... treasure trove of images blood cries of bowels being eviscerated .. so sweet the delicious horrors ... cry as i lick **** **** you with kisses at once tender beyond human comprehension more gorgeous then the glitter of stars and bludgeon brutal you beaten to death by glittering ***** and stuffed in a filthy wood box nailed and roped your mouth like blood jam a ghastly contortion your ******* dark brooding your weeping blood tears your toes bleeding and half eaten mmmmmmm i love you ooooow do you want to know how i love you???? like god and the devil always one with the other in love with each other as they are tender kisses and slow hurts all at once for you always dieing ...always resurrected always held and adored my beloved im crying for your touch

0

Dec 4, 2016

Dec 4, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC

zebrablack

temple of splendors

your are my temple of splendors... goddess consort... treasure trove of images blood cries of bowels being eviscerated .. so sweet the delicious horrors ... cry as i lick **** **** you with kisses at once tender beyond human comprehension more gorgeous then the glitter of stars and bludgeon brutal you beaten to death by glittering ***** and stuffed in a filthy wood box nailed and roped your mouth like blood jam a ghastly contortion your ******* dark brooding your weeping blood tears your toes bleeding and half eaten mmmmmmm i love you ooooow do you want to know how i love you???? like god and the devil always one with the other in love with each other as they are tender kisses and slow hurts all at once for you always dieing ...always resurrected always held and adored my beloved im crying for your touch

28

*"Being an introvert in an extroverted world can absolutely be difficult." Came across this on some blog. Think it's more complex to be a mediocre, an extro-intro or an intro-extro... you can't go all out... you won't remain all in... you're doomed to be in the twixt. Yet the middle is dangerous... The middle of the Ocean is the deepest, the middle of the jungle is the riskiest... the middle of the garden of Eden doomed an entire race... for its existence... no driver would drive freely in the middle lane, most run to the climbing lane soon as they see it. Some say the Earth is trapped between Heaven and Hell... maybe we're a compound of Paradisal elements and the rumbles of the Hades... the pawns in the Chess between God and Satan, the Jobs in the bible of now... I'm a Junk of all trades & I'm afraid being in between trades makes me a master of non... I know too much and yet I know nothing... I am an extro-intro... I go out only until the plank starts to swing the other way... I go out until I sense the cold and quickly run back to the lukewarm betwixt for the hot is as fatal to my kind as the cold. Am not an Author and neither am I a poet... Am a "Poether'' or an "Auoet", Am not philosophical neither am I Theological...am "philological" or "Theolophical". I'm trapped at the equator... I'm neither an Eskimo nor an "Antactico"... Not Ugandan nor Kenyan... Tanzania can't claim me but there's yet to be a concrete East African... maybe I'm African. My point is some people think the middle is safe... but I believe different. it's my opinion if you want to be a piglet be one, if you want to be a puppy be a puppy for its fatal to be a Pipet or puppet... both are instruments... even their use is similar. My tragedy is am in between, am a mediocre, a pother, an opssimist, a philothopher, a ctranger or say "Ukantan". I'm just there... Don't be caught in my place... find a place to belong... no matter how dangerous and risky... always choose where you lie...always strive hard to find a prowess... Go past the lines for History remembers those who are unique... whether for the worst or the best. Be the last if you can't be the first...* **Everyone will remember Mabirizi for he knew how to be the last... And sadly everyone will remember Museveni for he's good at keeping his place. Who will remember the one in between. Who will remember Besigye? Who will remember the servant boy that cautioned Achilles against fighting the Thessalonian? Who will remember me?**

0

Jul 17, 2016

Jul 17, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC

ignatius-hosiana

Who Will Remember?

*"Being an introvert in an extroverted world can absolutely be difficult." Came across this on some blog. Think it's more complex to be a mediocre, an extro-intro or an intro-extro... you can't go all out... you won't remain all in... you're doomed to be in the twixt. Yet the middle is dangerous... The middle of the Ocean is the deepest, the middle of the jungle is the riskiest... the middle of the garden of Eden doomed an entire race... for its existence... no driver would drive freely in the middle lane, most run to the climbing lane soon as they see it. Some say the Earth is trapped between Heaven and Hell... maybe we're a compound of Paradisal elements and the rumbles of the Hades... the pawns in the Chess between God and Satan, the Jobs in the bible of now... I'm a Junk of all trades & I'm afraid being in between trades makes me a master of non... I know too much and yet I know nothing... I am an extro-intro... I go out only until the plank starts to swing the other way... I go out until I sense the cold and quickly run back to the lukewarm betwixt for the hot is as fatal to my kind as the cold. Am not an Author and neither am I a poet... Am a "Poether'' or an "Auoet", Am not philosophical neither am I Theological...am "philological" or "Theolophical". I'm trapped at the equator... I'm neither an Eskimo nor an "Antactico"... Not Ugandan nor Kenyan... Tanzania can't claim me but there's yet to be a concrete East African... maybe I'm African. My point is some people think the middle is safe... but I believe different. it's my opinion if you want to be a piglet be one, if you want to be a puppy be a puppy for its fatal to be a Pipet or puppet... both are instruments... even their use is similar. My tragedy is am in between, am a mediocre, a pother, an opssimist, a philothopher, a ctranger or say "Ukantan". I'm just there... Don't be caught in my place... find a place to belong... no matter how dangerous and risky... always choose where you lie...always strive hard to find a prowess... Go past the lines for History remembers those who are unique... whether for the worst or the best. Be the last if you can't be the first...* **Everyone will remember Mabirizi for he knew how to be the last... And sadly everyone will remember Museveni for he's good at keeping his place. Who will remember the one in between. Who will remember Besigye? Who will remember the servant boy that cautioned Achilles against fighting the Thessalonian? Who will remember me?**

43

But what is a full moon anyway When you are not with me to fill it? And what if philosophy leaks from my brain All the time you're not there to instil it? Can I speak my own thought, can I hope my own dreams Can I tread on a path that's been torn? Can I carry the mountain right here on my back Or sit on it to welcome the dawn? If I torture you first will you confess your sins? Will you scream if I stretch you out here on your back? Would you tell me such secrets I couldn't have made up If I just ensure you have time on my rack? If I save myself for you will you spend your time on me? Your silver is not what I need at this time But if you were to keep me wrapped up in a blanket I'd come to you midnight like Mary divine And I'd stand with my candle and call to the angels We all would assemble the shepherds of old For I know how you love to see men working nature Freeing other young creatures from nightmares untold. And when nighttime is over and my dawn is broken I'll swallow my stories back behind my chest I will remove the nails with which I had bound you Roll back the great stone and lay you to rest.

0

Jun 23, 2015

Jun 23, 2015 at 10:58 AM UTC

scardecourcier

But what is a full moon anyway

But what is a full moon anyway When you are not with me to fill it? And what if philosophy leaks from my brain All the time you're not there to instil it? Can I speak my own thought, can I hope my own dreams Can I tread on a path that's been torn? Can I carry the mountain right here on my back Or sit on it to welcome the dawn? If I torture you first will you confess your sins? Will you scream if I stretch you out here on your back? Would you tell me such secrets I couldn't have made up If I just ensure you have time on my rack? If I save myself for you will you spend your time on me? Your silver is not what I need at this time But if you were to keep me wrapped up in a blanket I'd come to you midnight like Mary divine And I'd stand with my candle and call to the angels We all would assemble the shepherds of old For I know how you love to see men working nature Freeing other young creatures from nightmares untold. And when nighttime is over and my dawn is broken I'll swallow my stories back behind my chest I will remove the nails with which I had bound you Roll back the great stone and lay you to rest.

24