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"absolved" poems
I am unsolved, I am a statue in mortality, my smile has had an impact on society but my life has never been absolved All I wanted to do was entertain, but instead, someone betrayed me and let my blood fall like rain and with nothing to gain Before and after, my eyes have always been open so while you figure out who's the killer wheather it was Rob, Ed, or that guy Hansen, I have to wait, invisible to the world and lost until then I've been killed, tortured but you all just talk about which side they cut first or how my body tore, the name is Black Dahlia and that name has become a media ***** My smile has been smeared ear to ear, my body severed in half, my veins drained of every quart but I am still proud to say my name is Elizabeth Short
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Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
Black Dahlia
Fatherhood took me by surprise. Between one sunset, one sunrise, the world transformed before my eyes I ceased my solipsistic dream became a link within a chain No more "the end": instead, "and then"! The dusty streets down which I stepped were not an elaborate movie set to be dismantled at my death But now a path where I'd progress where you might one day trace my steps: adventures that I could but guess And how it felt, at last, to see! The world sat up and welcomed me and I'm still reeling, giddy, free Absolved by love, a spreading tree of which I am the smallest branch but bearing leaves: a wild romance; a step within an endless dance.
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Apr 28, 2012
Apr 28, 2012 at 6:45 AM UTC
Fatherhood
Two things I had never asked for, not these things not from you. Honour and loyalty are pledges oaths taken to one whom fealty is owed, a king or master. Loyalty and honour, not always given willingly, freely. Honour and loyalty are stiff, hard, formal words- a debt you feel you must pay. If this is how it is to be, know your debts are paid, you are absolved. I once had your love and friendship, but in lieu of those do not endeavor to fill this space with what you think is necessary. Your honour and loyalty, save, for those more worthy, for those who want this from you, for those who do not know how infinitely more you are capable of.
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May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 12:36 PM UTC
Honour And Loyalty
Amazing Grace: your gift for all. So amazing your grace that you would die for us sinners on a cross in shame and agony though sinless yourself. How Sweet the Sound: to hear "your sins are absolved" That Saved a Wretch Like Me: Compared to your perfection and glory we are truly wretched. All blackened by sin, but because of your death on a cross not by water or blood, but by water and blood we are saved and washed clean and white. The only chance we have of getting into heaven is by your gift of Amazing Grace. I Once Was Lost: like a sheep who strays from the flock and wanders off But Now Am Found: I am safe and sound in your arms once again. You rescue me from danger and bring me back safe and sound. Was Blind: because of sin and my faults, wrapped up in a blanket of hurting and lies. But Now I See: the magnitude of this gift you give and because of your death, the pure spotless lamb, and the cleansing blood you shed for me and for many that sins might be forgiven. 'Twas Grace That Taught My Heart To Fear: fear you in a deep respect for your power, fear of not having you always there and fear of satan and the cost of sin. And Grace My Fears Relieved: I used to fear what would happen if I sinned and I still fear as I should always, but I take comfort in the knowledge that when I sincerely repent, do my best to sin no more, and to avoid the things that lead me to sin I will be forgiven. How Precious Did That Grace Appear: It is by Grace and Grace alone that we are saved and indeed how precious, how special Grace was as it appeared to me The Hour I First Believed: The hour I came to believe in you Jesus my Savior who shed your blood, died and rose again that I might live!
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May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 8:50 PM UTC
Reflections on Amazing Grace
Amazing Grace: your gift for all. So amazing your grace that you would die for us sinners on a cross in shame and agony though sinless yourself. How Sweet the Sound: to hear "your sins are absolved" That Saved a Wretch Like Me: Compared to your perfection and glory we are truly wretched. All blackened by sin, but because of your death on a cross not by water or blood, but by water and blood we are saved and washed clean and white. The only chance we have of getting into heaven is by your gift of Amazing Grace. I Once Was Lost: like a sheep who strays from the flock and wanders off But Now Am Found: I am safe and sound in your arms once again. You rescue me from danger and bring me back safe and sound. Was Blind: because of sin and my faults, wrapped up in a blanket of hurting and lies. But Now I See: the magnitude of this gift you give and because of your death, the pure spotless lamb, and the cleansing blood you shed for me and for many that sins might be forgiven. 'Twas Grace That Taught My Heart To Fear: fear you in a deep respect for your power, fear of not having you always there and fear of satan and the cost of sin. And Grace My Fears Relieved: I used to fear what would happen if I sinned and I still fear as I should always, but I take comfort in the knowledge that when I sincerely repent, do my best to sin no more, and to avoid the things that lead me to sin I will be forgiven. How Precious Did That Grace Appear: It is by Grace and Grace alone that we are saved and indeed how precious, how special Grace was as it appeared to me The Hour I First Believed: The hour I came to believe in you Jesus my Savior who shed your blood, died and rose again that I might live!
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11
You are a ghost, or a spectral anomaly; Appearing out of thin air, while I am 2 hands and 7 minutes into a video game. You are a haunt, with no teeth, no fear, no presence. Not particularly interesting. You absolved yourself from conversation with, "Have fun with your video game", to which I replied, "you too", mistakenly.
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Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
"I've Never Turned a Profit or Friendship of Your Company."
By: Cedric McClester To achieve your ambition Stop hoping and wishing Voting is a mission It’s like going fishing No fish will you find If you don’t cast your line So drop your remote And go out and vote Your candidate Might not win the debate But let me clearly state If you don’t participate Then you abdicate By not voting your choice You lose your voice And can never rejoice Democracy demands Having all hands Both critics and fans Despite their brands Being involved To get their problems solved Things tend to revolve So we’ll be absolved Voting is a right We could lose over night Unless we unite Stop being uptight And stay engage in the fight For which people died Payed in blood or their hide To not be denied Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2018. All rights reserved.
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Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 7:41 AM UTC
VOTING IS A MISSION
Broke the straw across her back, so she snapped, never turning back Bruised her arm by joking accident with all the malice of death’s intent. No natural love or paternal instinct to catch the tears she’s choked with your hands on her throat. Touch her again and the demons will get you tell her to end herself before you do; and the death you deserve will befall you slow, alone and barren. Better to have left long ago or confronted your own lineage-issued father and let yourself be disowned than be the ******* you are. Leave her be middle child,   second accident of the disappointing gender. How dare you lay a finger on an innocent child? You’ll never be absolved in anyone’s eyes. Raised by fools, you’ve ruined your gift. The daughter you never wanted may never say it, but will grow up to spite you. Suffer like she does. She’s been soaking it up now for a while but the blood flow continues from deep wells of wounds. She can’t take this load anymore the people she carries don’t love her and she’s parched but still going. Surviving on a lump in her throat as she’s dragged through sandstorms and beatings.
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Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 5:31 PM UTC
Camel
I am worth being valued for existing Not only in the moments That I become relevant, necessary, or useful For lustful, celebratory or inspirational insanity I am not a lollipop or an exotic destination Stop exploring me ************* Because you salivate over this Hispaniola Beautiful island desecrated and decimated How many beautiful spirits will you make savages How many pure rivers will you **** blood on How many conquests will you claim a stake in How much balance will you disturb and subjugate to the trauma of your transitory exploration There's no impunity for conquerors Who taste, plunder, disguise disapproval in their apologies and move on There's no impunity for conquerors Who pick and choose who's worth Of validation, when, & how There's no impunity for conquerors Who play with men and women Hierarchize their prey But fail to acknowledge Their man-child whitewashed Hidden agendas & rigged market values Conquerors haunted by the trauma they've caused Will not be absolved by the revolution Neither will the revolution be the breast That heals conquers who are traumatized By the realization of their own fuckery
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Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 5:29 AM UTC
Conquerors Shall Not Be Absolved by the Revolution
The preacher scrubbed your sins away absolved you under rafters under fire under auspices Of books with dust in bindings layed down many lifetimes thick. But a preacher needs a pulpit like a fish requires scales Without the choir, no pool to swim. Senators tell you sweetened lies that half us want to hear two per state means only saying "Sorry," 'bout half the time to half the people, sometimes. But a liar needs your two ears and a moment of your time No need for snake oil when you're well. McGowan is a drinker, true draining oceans of pints dry under fire under praises, too From quarters high and lowly his legend laid down thickly But a preacher needs a pulpit and McGowan needs a page Needs pen in hand and needs a stage Otherwise, he's just a "Shane."
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Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 7:01 PM UTC
Priests, and Liars and Shane McGowan
All things must end in time Regardless of who when where or why I am absolved by the setting sun In this absence of light the darkness is All, the shadow is One The Ray of intellect pulls pieces from the vast darkness Attached by fear, chased by longing We run in circles, burying Truth beneath flecks of meaningless illumination Frustation, anger, the illusion of danger. I am a fool. I sit, surrounded by water in a rowboat without oars demanding control or salvation. There is no alternative, no freedom of suffering from pain nor dehydration. My body, my boat, my ocean are destined to fall to dust The wise man knows this and worries not. Just as the sun sets, the rays that illuminate are impermanent All that ever was transitions to all that can never be Beyond suffering, beyond pain Beyond illusory words orchestrated on this page It is held by a fabric that cannot be named It resonates in our being as love It’s the deepest darkness that holds the brightest light. You may heed my words or continue the Material spin It’s up to you where it ends or when you begin But know this truly and deeply my friend, When your travels are over Lessons learned and suffering done We will be made One Destined to recuperate in the womb of the Sun.
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Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 9:07 AM UTC
The Boat
I dream of rigged lacrosse matches won in 4th quarter overtime of chess games won with en passant (what exactly is that?) of horses falling at the first hurdle. I dream of Martian landscapes through sand-dunes of heartache because as a child, at McDonalds I was never allowed a milk shake, while in my waking hours I have absolved a multitude of sins for lapsed nuns, ringmasters and troubadours. I have filmed riots, marathons and abortions. I have seen things pickled in jars holding open heavy doors. I have tried, like an idiot to commit all this to memory.
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Dec 31, 2012
Dec 31, 2012 at 2:15 PM UTC
I have tried to remember to much
What do you do at 3am when you're tired and bored and its raining? Maybe this is punishment. For eating those grapes before you paid for them in Sainsburys. Or that time you forgot who Buzz Aldron was, or when you took pleasure at beating a five year old at Cluedo. She started crying, and even then, you still would not relinquish your title. Maybe its for that time You were accidentally racist  to the chinese guy taking your order. Or when you forgot to buy your mum a birthday card, or when you made fun of your best friend for not being taller. Or when you said, 'Maybe selective breeding in humans, Is not such a bad thing after all.' Yes, Its definitely punishment for that. But maybe its for all the litter you've dropped, inadvertently or on purpose. Or for last week when you accidentally kicked the cat, or for stealing those library books, For swearing at kids and blaspheming at the dinner table, Christ! Maybe its for nicking your brothers chips, even when you're not really that hungry. For halfhearted apologies handed out like office stationary, for scoffing at most modern art. For not revising when you Really, really should ...But telling your parents you are. But even with all of this, isn't the punishment, just a little bit too harsh? Well now you are sarcastic, and bitter and pessimistic at least 90% of the time. And you do hide the fact that you quite like country music, and that you have a blanket with sleeves (and you genuinely use it) and that you're really rather patriotic at heart. And you didn't say all that stuff when you should have. And you said all that other stuff you didn't mean And you spend far too much of your time Invested in impressing the people you're never going to see again. And you realize all of this... at three o'clock in the morning, alone but for the fading of the rain. And you swear to yourself, with all the fervour of a tired insomniac. That tomorrow. There. Will. Be. Change. But in the cold, harsh light of nine o'clock the same day. Six hours after you fell asleep. You resign yourself to the fact that last nights punishments can all be absolved, by a nice warm cup of tea. And despite what you say at 3am when you're tired and bored, listening to the sound of the rain. You will always be a pessimistic idiot, with delusions of grandeur. That watches too much American TV.
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Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 6:38 AM UTC
What Do You Do To Pass The Time (When Its 3AM And You're An Insomniac.)
What do you do at 3am when you're tired and bored and its raining? Maybe this is punishment. For eating those grapes before you paid for them in Sainsburys. Or that time you forgot who Buzz Aldron was, or when you took pleasure at beating a five year old at Cluedo. She started crying, and even then, you still would not relinquish your title. Maybe its for that time You were accidentally racist  to the chinese guy taking your order. Or when you forgot to buy your mum a birthday card, or when you made fun of your best friend for not being taller. Or when you said, 'Maybe selective breeding in humans, Is not such a bad thing after all.' Yes, Its definitely punishment for that. But maybe its for all the litter you've dropped, inadvertently or on purpose. Or for last week when you accidentally kicked the cat, or for stealing those library books, For swearing at kids and blaspheming at the dinner table, Christ! Maybe its for nicking your brothers chips, even when you're not really that hungry. For halfhearted apologies handed out like office stationary, for scoffing at most modern art. For not revising when you Really, really should ...But telling your parents you are. But even with all of this, isn't the punishment, just a little bit too harsh? Well now you are sarcastic, and bitter and pessimistic at least 90% of the time. And you do hide the fact that you quite like country music, and that you have a blanket with sleeves (and you genuinely use it) and that you're really rather patriotic at heart. And you didn't say all that stuff when you should have. And you said all that other stuff you didn't mean And you spend far too much of your time Invested in impressing the people you're never going to see again. And you realize all of this... at three o'clock in the morning, alone but for the fading of the rain. And you swear to yourself, with all the fervour of a tired insomniac. That tomorrow. There. Will. Be. Change. But in the cold, harsh light of nine o'clock the same day. Six hours after you fell asleep. You resign yourself to the fact that last nights punishments can all be absolved, by a nice warm cup of tea. And despite what you say at 3am when you're tired and bored, listening to the sound of the rain. You will always be a pessimistic idiot, with delusions of grandeur. That watches too much American TV.
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39
The dictionary was our savior. We turned to it when straits were dire. It gave mystical advice. It absolved responsibility. Well this time This time It told me to jump into the abyss Disappear into the ether And tempting as that is A release An erasure A finality Tempting tempting tempting I know how much it would mean to you So I resolve To only visit temporarily To make my escape brief - And return all the more brighter Refreshed and gleaming Restrained only by human form Oh severe mother of mine! To pin me to this physical form! And merciful father! To birth me unto being! One day I will transcend But for now A brief escape will have to do.
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Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 4:25 PM UTC
Tempting tempting tempting
Take one, take two, take them all. You'll be so much bigger when you feel so small Feel the rhythm of the chemicals, As you're dancing through it all. Feel the rhythm of the chemicals, As it slowly makes you fall, Into oblivion...... Feel the romance. Feel it hold you. Feel it warm you when you're cold. Will the romance make you sin again? It will surely make you cold. It will open up its eyes to you Show you the religion in itself The sinners become your only friend. And the chemicals your GOD. So when you're down and feeling guilty, Call to your chemicals. You'll be absolved. Feel the rhythm of the chemicals. Feel them dance within your veins. Feel the romance from your chemicals. Feel them grow into your brain. Feel the rhythm of your God. Let him rearrange your faith. Feel the rhythm of the chemicals Feel the rhythm 'til you're cold.
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Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 5:46 PM UTC
Feel the Rhythm of the Chemicals
Vitamin Forest nurture in nature healing the soreness from legislature metropolitan heart the sreets pulse like veins each hour depart clogged artery trains a lifeless appendage bleeding the suburb with no one to bandage deluge to each curb renewable resource found in rurality we ask for remorse draught, virus plurality Human being cancer lets all dissolve to find out the answer and utter resolve if the soul of a monster's sins be absolved
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May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
Redundant Abundance
With querulous turpitude, I stood Disdainful denied reassurance; Selfless. My crying heart The echo of the wind rebuking All that is remaining of what I used to be. Grotesque deformities my reflection The pain of pure love etched In dreams of aeons passed. Hideous beauty a frightening peace A sweetness I founded corrupt; Hell my heaven My paradise. Honesty a musical once writhing in my breast A seraph convoking legions, Now wings out-stretched I break my own treacherous heart A fiend of Heaven a demon of Hell The first fallen Unto likeness absolved The pennated breadth of twilight Breeding familiarities contempt- I have wearied myself, O God, And I am consumed, Resolute of inequity. He that is down need not fear plucking, Experience is the teacher of fools And a gentle lie turneth away inquiry: If the mountain will not go to Mahomet, Mahomet must go to the mountain; The nakedly wan mantic Velleity to tear Christ's body Malapert, before the ruddy shoal; Society covers a multitude of sins Within the penitent sanctity of Heaven's holocaust, in which No man can serve two masters- Oh that I had wings like a dove! I would fly away and be at rest Eternal and absolute, An angelic image of my shadowed self!. ELEETE J MUIR
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 8:35 AM UTC
Lucifer (Extended Edit)
Always more than you deserve You cut your teeth Against all those brick walls Momentarily All sin here is absolved Into the lack of resolve Through the surface of my skin Tales of caution in reverse All confession Has been rehearsed Rehearsed againt the wind
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Sep 12, 2018
Sep 12, 2018 at 2:41 PM UTC
Tales Of Caution In Reverse
No Good Ever Came... No good ever came From staying up all night Except when it took all night To satisfy our thoughts No good ever came After the eight pint Except when we drank too much And finally said the words No good ever came From sleeping for hours all fine Except in those morning hours When we were safe from the whole world No good ever came From staying sober and bright Except for the days we remember When everything was sharp and whole No good ever came From standing completely still Except when we stared at each other And knew just who we were No good ever came From filling up on pills Except when we hung from the ceiling And clung to the clouds in mirth No good ever came From chasing childish thrills Until we found that place inside And laughed at how simple it was No good ever came From using power of will Except when we clung together Much longer than we should No good ever came From constantly pretending Except when we said it would be fine And sort of lived our lives No good ever came From the act of surrendering Except when we surrendered To the currents in our hearts No good ever came From being real and raw Except when we absolved ourselves By accepting all our scars No good ever came From fighting in a war Except when we fought each other Instead of face ourselves Nothing ever good came From shedding all those tears Except when it let you know That I was full of fear Nothing ever came from me or you or us Except for the briefest moments When good came from both our lives.
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Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 4:46 PM UTC
No Good Ever Came...
No Good Ever Came... No good ever came From staying up all night Except when it took all night To satisfy our thoughts No good ever came After the eight pint Except when we drank too much And finally said the words No good ever came From sleeping for hours all fine Except in those morning hours When we were safe from the whole world No good ever came From staying sober and bright Except for the days we remember When everything was sharp and whole No good ever came From standing completely still Except when we stared at each other And knew just who we were No good ever came From filling up on pills Except when we hung from the ceiling And clung to the clouds in mirth No good ever came From chasing childish thrills Until we found that place inside And laughed at how simple it was No good ever came From using power of will Except when we clung together Much longer than we should No good ever came From constantly pretending Except when we said it would be fine And sort of lived our lives No good ever came From the act of surrendering Except when we surrendered To the currents in our hearts No good ever came From being real and raw Except when we absolved ourselves By accepting all our scars No good ever came From fighting in a war Except when we fought each other Instead of face ourselves Nothing ever good came From shedding all those tears Except when it let you know That I was full of fear Nothing ever came from me or you or us Except for the briefest moments When good came from both our lives.
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56
We who shuffle seamlessly along history's ****** banks, And think our lives are pointful, filled up with meaning, Yet believe prayers are unanswered, and demeaning, But if they're not, could never offer thanks, Can feel the horrors we have created just beneath our skin; Writhing, contorting, causing trembles in our hands, Over nothing so petty as what some god claims is sin, And won't be washed clean by the hourglass's sands. I am strongly convinced that, even if I can (By some miracle), be absolved by God's forgiveness, That He has absolutely no **** right to do this, To steal that from me, and to change what I am.
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Jan 5, 2017
Jan 5, 2017 at 4:50 PM UTC
I Ask For No Forgiveness
As the wind speed of mind increases, he loses weight sees the clouds ethereal nearer and crowd in which he  too jostled like an imbecile, becoming far off dots selfishness, greed, jealousy,pride, lust , avarice and violence self-pity masquerading as love, all this still tie them down some among them fornicate words, turn them in to  ****** this happens for ages, but none has the power to stop the rot, look at those mindless wonders that dance in **** we watch in horror but pretend as if we are delighted, to keep the peers gleeful. Don't you want a journey of your own  through inner landscape no more be a kite,begging for the mercy of those who pull the string who fake ******* think something and pretend contrary to it, dupe. "I am sky bound, levitate, a cloud heavy with sadness,still buoyant, I would rain,when feel drained, assume the white cloak of purity. I am the earth and fire,wind and water, limitlessness of the space"
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Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:29 AM UTC
Get detached, be absolved.
You've taken too long to come haunting, wading through instances of mud, of regret, until my wanting has all but dissolved. You've broken my spine with curious fingertips, an innocent ghost with fireplace eyes, where questions went unnoticed, unsolved. You've come knocking with empty cages, pulling behind what you'd begged to forget, you spoke to my spine like needles, absolved; until my teacups are dust on the shelves and your flowers don't wilt, but burn, of stove and house and noose and all.
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Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC
Sillage.
all and everything burns around us a wall of flames consuming the world a personal hell projected into reality a final reckoning for our collective sins none are absolved not even the innocent an angel’s dream the beginning of the end overwhelmed wrung out by the quotidian too tired to fight too tired to care we lay down and wait our turn to die
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Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 3:59 PM UTC
an angel’s dream
Today, I'm going to **** them with kindness. I'll walk the streets with a skip in my step, corners of my mouth arched, skin tough. I will be rubber. I will not be glue. I will avoid sticks and stones. I will be Teflon. Yesterday, I killed someone, with kindness. I created art, in many ways, I created Hell. A page filled with gestures may seem ageless, however, a spectacular self-awareness occurs. There is closure. There is completion. Unlike the manipulation of one's face. There too is completion, but closure is not always certain. Some leave with last words that linger. Some lift their arms to The Lord, Lord hear their prayer. And others find themselves at peace, living on in the hearts and minds of others, loved or not. Is a legacy more important to an Atheist? That's speculative, I suppose. But if what they say is true, and most CEO's are psychopaths, then I would assume that it is. Monetary value will always triumph over theoretical morality. And I say that morals and ethics can be theory to a man certain of his faith, because in the end, sin can be absolved. Faith in a higher being, in something bigger than yourself, often leaves thought of peers as dismissible. For they have their own demons to overcome. How do you accept indifference in a system that is above natural law? Omnipotence should never be exposed to have a grey area, especially when it is considered to be set in stone. Oxygen and gravity aren't, but tell that to a man who is falling and trying to catch his last breath. Lastly, consider art. As the creator, the mastermind hidden in the clouds to let his work speak volumes. The divine grace that is told in brush strokes, in notes placed to play, to be presented. That's a beauty that is foresaken. Another key representation of something seen but not seen. Even a deaf man delivered notes he could not hear, rivaled ones able, and challenged normality. The difference between an artist, and a person producing art, is that an artist will use blood, whereas the latter searches for a comparable color.
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Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 5:41 PM UTC
An Untold Higher Power
Today, I'm going to **** them with kindness. I'll walk the streets with a skip in my step, corners of my mouth arched, skin tough. I will be rubber. I will not be glue. I will avoid sticks and stones. I will be Teflon. Yesterday, I killed someone, with kindness. I created art, in many ways, I created Hell. A page filled with gestures may seem ageless, however, a spectacular self-awareness occurs. There is closure. There is completion. Unlike the manipulation of one's face. There too is completion, but closure is not always certain. Some leave with last words that linger. Some lift their arms to The Lord, Lord hear their prayer. And others find themselves at peace, living on in the hearts and minds of others, loved or not. Is a legacy more important to an Atheist? That's speculative, I suppose. But if what they say is true, and most CEO's are psychopaths, then I would assume that it is. Monetary value will always triumph over theoretical morality. And I say that morals and ethics can be theory to a man certain of his faith, because in the end, sin can be absolved. Faith in a higher being, in something bigger than yourself, often leaves thought of peers as dismissible. For they have their own demons to overcome. How do you accept indifference in a system that is above natural law? Omnipotence should never be exposed to have a grey area, especially when it is considered to be set in stone. Oxygen and gravity aren't, but tell that to a man who is falling and trying to catch his last breath. Lastly, consider art. As the creator, the mastermind hidden in the clouds to let his work speak volumes. The divine grace that is told in brush strokes, in notes placed to play, to be presented. That's a beauty that is foresaken. Another key representation of something seen but not seen. Even a deaf man delivered notes he could not hear, rivaled ones able, and challenged normality. The difference between an artist, and a person producing art, is that an artist will use blood, whereas the latter searches for a comparable color.
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49
Seems like the nite claimed another homie ........ When did life equal " ***** you owe me!" Youth blasted difference over a current narcotic debt..... What is the pain we haven't seen yet? I hugged mothers..father's. ... sisters..... brothers...... Seen kids crying alone underneath there covers...... I learned later colors no longer shine..... If there not flaggin the right one they're no longer mine.... The terrible thing is I got out with a grin... Like being away absolved all my sin..... We gangsta we hard we don't give a **** That is till one of our loved ones finally gets hit....... So while you gain respect and become a baller..... Take the ones closest too you and price them a dollar..... Because every move you make will make there lives cheap.... Is it worth the painful nights you hurt so much you can't even sleep? Fast money and hoes lifestyles of the **** Only put you further into the grave you proudly dug.... I don't have an answer I'm not wise enough to get out..... But read these words and you'll know what it's all about.....
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Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
RIP Homie.....
The mystic Sadhu chants cryptic mantras, I hear the Hammssss of his voice, He is lost in his world Like I'm with mine, Above me, the bridge clanked gleefully announcing the arrival of her lover; Shimmering in white, honking it moves slowly like a big serpent, Ending the tryst with a flickering red light. Several mounds, smoldering woods, and one body stuck to the trunk of the bridge swirled in me the fear of leaving this world early, leaving all that I strived to achieve, and leaving all of it in the middle. Buses pass on the next bridge A hand came out and aimed the stream with something, probably a coin, to compensate for wrongdoings, Coin-collectors waiting like a starving lion in a zoo pounced on these throwings, aiming the spot   with a magnet like a trained ninja in nocturnal warfares, After a few unsuccessful attempts A boy yelled in joy "Har Har Gange". The Ganges was like this from the beginning, She was moderate in demands offering so much at the cost of a penny, Throw a coin and you are absolved from all your sins.
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Oct 21, 2021
Oct 21, 2021 at 7:31 PM UTC
A Night on the Bank of Ganges