"babylonians" poems
Eid in Babylon sits on his high chair, on knees of snow. Grandparents smile for the beloved alleys of Babylon and overlook the mighty Euphrates. Eid in Babylon is a bright face of dawn. Magic smiled on his hands like the hearts of the Babylonians. These civilizations have occurred here, do you not see all these lighthouses and the sounds of eternity? Don't you see dew hearts where lovers' poems here mired in their dreams? At sunset, we will bid farewell to the spirit of rebellion. At sunset, a new Eid will be rise in Babylon.
Jul 31, 2020
Jul 31, 2020 at 3:37 AM UTC
~
*Holding court at the Zanzibar,
they looked on good nights
like Egyptian Queens, like Ancient Babylonians.
On not so good nights,
they resembled Brassaï's Moma Bijou -
"fugitives from Baudelaire's bad dreams",
and even then they looked magnificent.
Identity wasn't something you nailed
yourself into in late adolescence.
It was a trick of the light,
and if you were to avoid
burning yourself out,
then you simply let the flames
lick over you
and turned the ashes into kohl.*
~
Dec 30, 2021
Dec 30, 2021 at 11:47 AM UTC
Oh Mr Sentinel ***** you *** with the bullwhip and echo tongue
For four hundred years they had your fathers and mothers
toiling the sugar and cotton fields no better than oxen and horses
They were all beasts together without rights or gain
All you knew was what Babylonians put in your heads
Your perceptions are nothing but that of a slave
As bright as those of the oxen and *****
That were your mates
Now you sit here thinking you're Bob Marley without stringed guitar
you may have a pen in hand but nothing much has changed
what you call a brain is just a dusty mirror from ***** in the Plantation mansion
you are just the *** overseer who gives your *** to ***** at night
payment for echoing his words and ******* a **** on Saturday
Who are you really but a mindless carcass with no class
Your momentum comes from ***** and is *****
it's 21st century and you are still a Sentinel on the cotton fields
You come cracking your bullwhip talking trash
your ****** *** still has a ten dollar price tag hanging off it
the mixed blood of your ancestors fight for dominance in vain
four hundred years of slavery and you're still in chains mind asleep
there's freedom in the sun whether in tropics or in snow town
freedom is a mind unchained to massa's bulls and stunted ****
Show me the freedom of a ******* Sentinel the mottafucker chicken
Go find your ******** radicals and do your worst, how did your pimping go in Liverpool.
or where you too busy spinning your **** in Birmingham Alabama.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 9:25 PM UTC
they always seem to ascribe the stone age
with inventing the circle,
dinosaurs and the loathing of
x-ray via Archaeology -
ᛟ, or an ancient egyptian manuscript...
got the ******* wheelie on that ***** boo yah!
this is even weirder than Wittgenstein's observation
of late Copernicus... ᛟ-ray... huh?
you've been a peasant and you're still
curating a chance sharpening edit?
where's the ******* wheel with romans after
ancient egyptians and the babylonians
and for fuck's sake Hindustan!
O... where's O in Sanskrit? so who got the cartwheels?
the romans? huh?! a.d. b.c. buttered-up ****
if this makes sense... forget the universe,
alien civilisations... my own makes as much sense
as a gram of pepper and salt sneezed with.
hey flamingo! here's a signature in sepia!
banging on the bathroom floor - with Disney - passed
in those days: Lion Kong or King...
oompa loompa ooh ooh gorilla tyrant said so too.
they invented the wheel but forgot to phonetically
encode it with something similar...
runes, right, Scandinavian... ᛟ... i.e. O...
but i'd like to see ᛟ in a roller-coaster... just for gorging
on a regurgitation of jokes - and so i can
slang and slapper quick a blah in Jamaican slang
and say... yah mon' poo daddy do a diddy eff a flex
wit bling bling, cursor vector to noon
and da dwarfin of a shadow.
**** man, they invented the wheel but waited for the
romans to write the O... and it was music by then...
suddenly! huh?! the **** is this? whiskey straight up.
no wonder.
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 7:14 PM UTC
To these Babylonians
Oh father, and I am a child of Abraham
Daughter of salt and desert
Daughter of the sun blazed beige dream mountains
Who roll together like sleeping dinosaurs
In the archives of my memory.
To these Babylonians
And I have withheld from them my true name
For their tongues are not fit to pronounce it
Written in black stardust across my ankle
Branded like the wandering sheep
In the blue hills drowning in yellow gnats and cloud.
My father taught me how to survive
Babylonia
By the seaside the shore was covered in
Transparent jellyfish and dark ocean weeds
Abraham inhaling foamy salt waves
Preaching black oil, blood and fire
Preaching this, Babylonia
When foreign lands resemble home
When homes revert to foreign land.
When earth and sky and water do not remember you
When you do not remember them
Singing still in the salty undertow
Treble clefs caked in the cracks of my bones
Barefoot fire altar, sticky sunbeam fractures
Progeny of Abraham
Singing sacrifice
Stolen seconds folding themselves into eternity.
To these Babylonians
And I am a child of Isaac
Violin strings shouting with the river
Jacob whispered all rivers and all rivers
Flow to Rome
And all salt water tastes of home
Find me in the poison current of the obsidian ocean
Jellyfish seaweed and petroleum-slurred sands
My father Abraham sang many songs.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 5:17 PM UTC
I am not of darkness, but i'm in the dark.
If I am not lost, I am slowly losing it.
As the Babylonians babel on, i wander on,
lost while wondering when the future shall fall.
Shalom, shalom,
and into the night of day we go.
each with flame that flutters and fluctuates amidst the noise of reality,
certain to ignite a side to the worlds duality.
there is a lost freedom in this land,
and if we are but angels
we are but angels at war with God with gods.
and if we are but gods
we are as foolish as they come.
is this darkness on the dawn?
shadow in the night,
find the light
find the light
find the light.
Even I whose soul is as the night can love its loving bright.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC
In a Christian world.
The star an ensign.
A symbol.
Pointing out wicked wounds inflicted on Christ .
While was crucified.
By ignorance cruel.
The points denote an insult on his tragic dying soul.
Our saviour saved by pointed pain.
Babylonians long since gone.
Showed Heaven in four quarters.
Jupiter, Mars, Lady Venus and Mercury.
Houses in which archangels dwell.
Quarters denoted by a star.
Ishtar at the top.
Five points, a symbol.
The Grecian star divides by elements.
And beautiful phases of the moon.
Breathe in the air.
Walk on earths mantle.
Let fire not tempt fingers.
Water to extinguish.
Vision on the facets of the luna moon.
Seasonal in phases.
Young moon in spring, with water brings..seen in the West.
Vernal equinox provides the life rebirth.
Moon in youth is the summer brings..Second quarter in the South.
Autumn comes with harvest moon.
Middle age of lunar cycle.
Dry as earth.
Almost barren beauty.
Three quarters of the cycle.
Arises in the east.
During autumns changing face and fruit filled feast.
Coldness carries death in chains brings winter.
In the North faces of the moon.
Hidden in winter nights of death.
Bring on the winter solstice.
The final point I bring to you.
Is in spirituality.
Inspirational!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:38 PM UTC
What I actually mean when I tell you that you're my world is that the earth was created just for your existence. I swear your name is etched in the hieroglyphics of the ancient pyramids, the Egyptians wiped their sweat from their brows to please you, and the Babylonians created their hanging gardens for your eyes to see. The effort of thousands of men to build the great statue of Zeus isn't in vain as long as you step foot on this ground where every atom and molecule knows that you are the purpose for their existence; and if earth was created for you then I hope it's sun was created for me, because then I'd know that I am the cause of your warmth, light, and energy. If you are the cause of the earth's existence, I pray that I'm the cause of yours.
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 9:38 PM UTC
Atheists
Atheists who believe in evolution
Lying
For example, evolution
Stealing
Satan worship
Judas
For example, Darwin
My neighbor Will
Who manipulated me into bad Pokemon trades
Witchcraft, for example, Atheism
Women’s sexualized Halloween costumes
Sexualized women, for example bikinis
Prostitution
Cussing, which is prostitution of the spirit
*** with someone other than your spouse
*** before marriage
Pictures of ***
***
The word ****
The Ancient Greeks, who rejected Jesus
The Ancient Romans, who rejected Jesus
The Ancient Jews who rejected Jesus
(The **** Pharisees who rejected Jesus via ******
The Ancient Samaritans, who rejected Jesus
Except one; that guy’s all good
The Ancient Babylonians, who would’ve rejected Jesus
Marrying a non-Christian
Helping your Atheist spouse to cuss or ******
Divorce
Not forgiving someone
Gollum, for several reasons
Not praying
Praying to Mary
Praying to Allah
Praying to Baal
Child sacrifice
Saying “Just water please” but then getting pop
Bill Clinton, who did all that
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 4:26 PM UTC
bah bah black sheep... ok... the black sheep knuckled you to sleep
and now you’re asking for directions using a map and not a satellite navigation
across europe, esp. tremendous in germany near dortmund
and the rhine cities getting confused... but that’s no reason
to drive with ease from new jersey to florida with a glum pickers' pride
en route... i can play the ‘i spy with my little’ game into midnight passing me and spare myself inventive optics -
like shadow like hallucination in consistency, both flimsy,
i can recognise the real filth from packaged recyclables
from the orient.
well there’s that and there’s old russell the schizoid affective
outside tesco drinking a bottle of old speckled hen
and talking about snowfalls... 3 / 4 years ago last time i spotted
saint clause... i slipped and imagined myself breaking a knee...
didn’t happen... what happened was was a clearer truth:
why this fake image stimulant... i cant’ watch the stars
but have to subconsciously watch candy crush?
it’s **** i want the days within the insignia of war,
i don’t want my subconscious patented with candy crush,
i want the stars to remain... better an autocrat than a technocrat...
at least a human face... adolf touchy-feely,
here we go...
i imagine all those rivers of heraclitus concerning a coordinate
known as a waterfall... and post-humous exactness expressing peace...
then i spot picasso on the roof outside my bedroom window...
i support his elevation through evangelicalism from halo to angels wings...
you know what the three wise babylonians said...
you scared them to egypt you idiot announcing reign of the ditto,
you scared them them with myrrh, melchior you’re already close to malachi,
that will do... look at it... it’s babylonian already...
it’s a babylon of orthodox christianity (greek / russian), catholicism,
protestantism, baptists, pantheists and other offshoots
like being mormon!
well you can never make an omelette by the dozen involved
without asking the thirteenth egg: chicken or egg first? crucifix?! oh.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 8:57 PM UTC
I cross the bridge to nowhere, in the cold, in my underwear
Intense winds push me to edges, where I contemplate ledges
Looking down, spirits swim and stare; icy waters are their lair
I levitate and meditate; medicate with mental dredges
Such mundane nonchalance; my bridge leads to idiot savants
I would be crowned their King, kindred soul of unsound meditations
We've left our lost souls unburied, unhurried to right the carriage
Take a deep breath of the ether of dregs and suppurations
Take the one whom you love, not in marriage, in ************
On the bridge, I pass a young ponce and hear echoes of "Bon Chance!"
Purple rags greet me at the gate, royal flags of highest distinction
Winking my eye, scratching my head, the dead are now forgotten
Deep in my pit, so deep I forget, a pang of extinction
In my palace of darkness, no light will shine on the rotten
In the court of fools, coarse avowals can't be washed by the fonts
So lines are drawn by idiot courtiers and indigent warriors
Cities with no regret or sorrow, tomorrow trampled to tatters
Through smoke and burnt flesh we ***** we hope to soothe the worriers
We are all Babylonians, babbling on as if nothing matters
The bridges to nowhere we cross, we cross bridges to Babylons
Nov 6, 2016
Nov 6, 2016 at 1:05 AM UTC
When a class is boring, the air can feel close and rebreathed - not a comfortable feeling for a COVID child. When the class is finally over, it’s like you’ve escaped something.
Did you know an hour has 60 minutes because ancient Babylonians used a seximal system? (base six).
The class I was in was small, just eight of us around a table in a small room (four students were missing that day) and somehow the class had wandered into the unstable, waring, state of the world.
The professor ended his unscheduled thought, on the result of nuclear war, by saying, “After the nuclear exchanges, when cockroaches take over..”
“No,” I interrupted - it was a flashbulb moment - an impulse. I don’t usually interrupt professors, “Ants. Ants would take over - they’re mobile super-organisms, cockroaches are just meat to them.”
His smile and nod of approval felt warm and cozy, as if my emotions had a texture and temperature - but I knew it was something assigned to me briefly, like a motel room.
Nuclear survival isn’t exactly my bailiwick, I’m not sure where I picked that thought up or why I had the confidence to offer it. Confidence is a thin lever to work with when talking to a professor. I’ve seen professors crush brash students.
The bell rang, I had survived, and Leong was waiting for me in the hall. The crowd in the hall was moving on toward their classes, like water splashing in every direction. Leong barked a laugh. “What?” I asked.
“Neh,” she said, waving her hand (meaning forget it).
“What?” I asked again.
“When I was little, I would visit my grandparents' farm, in Shandong (province, China). They would call their cows in with a bell,” she said, motioning, with both hands to include the crowded hall.
“We’re the most privileged cows in the universe,” she suggested smilingly.
“I suppose we are,” I agreed, as we passed out into a wind as cold and harsh as witches' breath.
Jan 30, 2024
Jan 30, 2024 at 12:30 AM UTC
Through the will of God
I surrender
I submit to thee
As we pray for the Babylonians
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
I am old
crippled and dying of thirst
I will give thee
My last drop of water
I walk by faith
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 1:58 AM UTC
Through the will of God
I surrender
I submit to thee
As we pray for the Babylonians
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
I am old
crippled and dying of thirst
I will give thee
my last drop of water and
my last bite of bread
I walk by faith
upon this earth
I said
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
Through the will of God
I surrender
I submit to thee
As we pray for the Babylonians
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
I am old
crippled and dying of thirst
I will give thee
My last drop of water
I walk by faith
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
Through the will of God
I surrender
I submit to thee
As we pray for the Babylonians
Thy will be done
On earth as it is in heaven
I am old
crippled and dying of thirst
I will give thee
My last drop of water
I walk by faith
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 11:22 AM UTC