"baptise" poems
On the outer Barcoo where the churches are few,
And men of religion are scanty,
On a road never cross'd 'cept by folk that are lost,
One Michael Magee had a shanty.
Now this Mike was the dad of a ten year old lad,
Plump, healthy, and stoutly conditioned;
He was strong as the best, but poor Mike had no rest
For the youngster had never been christened.
And his wife used to cry, 'If the darlin' should die
Saint Peter would not recognise him.'
But by luck he survived till a preacher arrived,
Who agreed straightaway to baptise him.
Now the artful young rogue, while they held their collogue,
With his ear to the keyhole was listenin',
And he muttered in fright, while his features turned white,
'What the divil and all is this christenin'?'
He was none of your dolts, he had seen them brand colts,
And it seemed to his small understanding,
If the man in the frock made him one of the flock,
It must mean something very like branding.
So away with a rush he set off for the bush,
While the tears in his eyelids they glistened —
''Tis outrageous,' says he, 'to brand youngsters like me,
I'll be dashed if I'll stop to be christened!'
Like a young native dog he ran into a log,
And his father with language uncivil,
Never heeding the 'praste' cried aloud in his haste,
'Come out and be christened, you divil!'
But he lay there as snug as a bug in a rug,
And his parents in vain might reprove him,
Till his reverence spoke (he was fond of a joke)
'I've a notion,' says he, 'that'll move him.'
'Poke a stick up the log, give the spalpeen a prog;
Poke him aisy — don't hurt him or maim him,
'Tis not long that he'll stand, I've the water at hand,
As he rushes out this end I'll name him.
'Here he comes, and for shame! ye've forgotten the name —
Is it Patsy or Michael or Dinnis?'
Here the youngster ran out, and the priest gave a shout —
'Take your chance, anyhow, wid 'Maginnis'!'
As the howling young cub ran away to the scrub
Where he knew that pursuit would be risky,
The priest, as he fled, flung a flask at his head
That was labelled 'MAGINNIS'S WHISKY'!
And Maginnis Magee has been made a J.P.,
And the one thing he hates more than sin is
To be asked by the folk, who have heard of the joke,
How he came to be christened 'Maginnis'!
3.1k
it has been years
you didn't write nor call
i slithered from church
for reach out to you
my savior, my redeemer
like an evangelist
im waiting for you
to come in a beautiful dress
and baptise me with your luscious kiss
so that under my spell
you can tell me im the chosen one
i can tell you you are the one i've been waiting for
May 26, 2022
May 26, 2022 at 6:25 PM UTC
*Baptise me
In the glow
Of your halo
Traces of euphoria
Courses through my blood
A riot in my head births
As I recall the day
You marched
Into my hollow
Inflaming
A magnificent tempest
That fill the pages
Of all that I write
Your words
Weaved into the intricate spaces
Of my impenetrable heart
To leave it radiating
Unimpeded adoration.*
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
I'm gonna motivate my love tractor
From the east coast to the west
Feel it's horsepower beneath my ***
The scorching heat from the exhausts
Blistering my legs
Throwing back rock and gravel
Scattering anything in my way
I want to see the ocean before I die
I want to stop at the Grand Canyon on the way
And a dozen greasy spoons
And a dozen more biker bars
It all leads my ***** *** to the beach
Might as well be the Ganges
Baptise me in that great body of water
I love huge bodies of water
Lakes, rivers, seas...but never seen the ocean
I could make it on a Harley
Overcome my fear
Do it by myself
Biker clubs are insane
They're where I need to be
I've been listening to Steppenwolf
All my life
Get that hog out on the road
The highway and the hog is all that exists
It's another of those "becoming One" situations
I can handle it
Stay on the state highways
Avoid interstates
Maybe I should start getting high again every day
Smoking **** at least 3 times a day
Why don't I think that would still make me happy?
But it's cut into my short term memory
It's been cruel and even driven me to my knees
I have a healthy fear of what it's capable of
But if I could ride a Harley cross country
Surely I could handle doing it high as a kite
Biker girls, sorry to break your hearts
I got a respectable old lady who won't sit on the seat of a Harley
We have discussed parameters
But the sum total is you won't be getting what you want
That doesn't mean you might not get something and something valuable and life-changing at that
It's all at my discretion
Because biker girls sweep me off my feet
And the "look but you better not touch" rule is a little too strict
Especially when we make it to the ocean
Our naked bodies like a school of shark in shallow Pacific liquid
Just a **** or two before jumping in the water
Feel in good, like singing with John Kaye
******* the pusher man
My Harley-Davidson's caked with mud and sea salt, dripping gooey red dirt
Watch over 'em for me
Cuz we gonna be here for awhile
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 12:52 AM UTC
It is time for a cleansing
washaway this job
this car, wife and children
forsake these friend
forget the monotony of money
forget the constraints of time
forget forget forget
and baptise yourself in the "sins" of the counterculture
Jul 26, 2010
Jul 26, 2010 at 1:22 PM UTC
Lust is the pink pillow on my bed.
Plump, filled with unwashed thoughts.
At least they’re encased in dusky pink;
pleasant to the eye especially in the
golden minutes absorbed by sheer glass.
I want your head pressing
into the pillow, hard. Then your sleepy
breath will baptise the cotton after
sinful acts. I’ll preserve the dent you make
with the lovely weight of your skull.
I’ll surround the chasm with carnations.
Eventually, they’ll be a line outside my room.
Jealous tourists wanting to take pictures.
Feb 2, 2021
Feb 2, 2021 at 4:05 PM UTC
two men at the water.
you've all heard the puzzle, right?
you have three wolves and three sheep
and you need to cross a river.
(any river. let's call it—
oh, i don't know. the baptismal
jordan.)
okay, so it's a little different.
one sheep who doesn't follow the crowd
and one wolf in the skin of his dead brother.
it still works, doesn't it?
(especially if they're in love.
let's say they're in love,
just for the sake of it.
let's let them be in love.)
if the sheep leaves the wolf behind
it's only because he was chasing the sun.
let's not blame him for chasing
the sun. let's make a terrible joke
about another son, and a father,
and a fire/sacrifice.
(let's put the sheep on the altar
and see how we can bleed him
for the machinations of another.)
let's give the wolf some big sad eyes
and a failed career
and a bad relationship with his family.
let's give him a longing
for teeth and blood but let's make him
only long for his own.
(let's string him up and get him to dance
for us. let's point and look and laugh
at the stupid little apex predator
cowering at the world.)
where were we?
oh, right. baptism.
well, that's an easy one, isn't it?
call up the sun,
and burn it—
burn it? are you sure?
yes. he's sure. so we're sure,
aren't we?
(but isn't that a rebirth?
can you baptise a phoenix?)
(no. but isn't it world class
entertainment to watch the flames
turn to ash
right beside the water?)
Jan 20, 2022
Jan 20, 2022 at 4:56 PM UTC
From my origin i've known you
You were a vessel of honour
a tree unbent,pride of the forest
A role all wished to play
You were part of the family's pride
Generosity of humanity
voice of the voiceless
The precious stone of the mountain
An epitome of beauty
A rare gem
A collections of respect
The purest of waters
The spice in our home
The wheel of our movement
The precious gift we've known
where have you gone to?
You whose fragrance freshes my breath
where have you hidden your face?
where have you gone to?!
The last time we saw i thought there would be more,
Why so soon?,without a wave of goodbye
you turned your back on us
I will never with eyes see you again?!
I will never with ears hear you again?!
Oh! This monstrous cold arms you couldn't flee
The monster that regards not one's delight
The monster whose pleasure is in our pain
Have Wrung us!
You pang our heart
You baptise us in tears
You hungry Earth unfilled
Our pain, your pleasure,
Having this monster your hunter
From Abel's slain you've been feeding
When will you learn to fast?
When will our pleasure know honour in your eyes?!
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 2:30 AM UTC
Thou shalt, at the heat of the sun, bear thy flesh and bear thy head
Thou shalt sacrifice animals to be cooked in witness of the sun's infrared,
And ingest these victuals in such sun's cosmic light
Thou shalt baptise thyself under the closest water in sight
Thou shalt spread thyself with lotion before lending presence to it
Thou shalt lay upon the soil or sand in unending deference to it
Thou shalt compare thy skin and colour with brothers and sisters
To separate loyal bathers from misunderstood resistors
Thou shalt honour the dark and hold those untrue with severence
Who employ bottles or sprays to to give an imitation reverence
Thou shalt not look bare upon the sun, and keep thine eyes concealed
Thou shalt burn thy skin and be born again, after skin and guise are peeled
But the most import is given to the ultimate pawn of piety:
Thou shalt never speak nor hear
Of the modern solar diety
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
Lightning
with fiery shades of wrath
woven into its shards
ripped the horizon,
dived into the ocean
to its depths of sedimented pretensions,
baptised it with drops of sulphurous fire,
to a cleansed conscience.
The ocean rose up in a high tide of exuberance,
escorted me to its depths
for the drop of sulphurous fire to baptise me,
to give my yearnings the shape of a flame
that puts my soul on fire.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 4:20 AM UTC
i want to douse you in the muddy water
of the balckfork's patient trickle
at the crest of spring
and baptise you as mine to keep
my own semi-precious stone to bring to the table
let me carry you around in my pocket
like a bottle cap
from the last bar you sat at
while you were day-dreaming of me
some treasures are far too great
to try to hide from the world outside
and more often than not
a good bargain
isn't what we bargained for
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:34 AM UTC
Dance me to the end
with your beauty
in each hand
Dance me, lover
Dance me.
through the shades of beer
and the nights we missed
let me hold you tight
and baptise with a kiss.
I will take my body
I will put it on trial.
for a moment of your cruelty
in the summer of your smile.
Dance me, lover,
Dance me.
Dance me to the end
with your beauty
in each hand
to the pyre of your love
in the summer of your smile.
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
I am no wave thing
No Moses basketed, noosed to the hip of an ocean,
born to be carried away by the tide thing
I'm not a thing that dips and dives and dies under this rubble and salt and sky
Not under these ******
and sea lions
who charter their unlicensed vessels on my intimate things,
with no caution or care
they trail and leave their spills there
But i'm no wave thing
I'm not a thing who whips and crashes at the break of the wind
or the pull of the sky,
not created that cycle of fall and rise and fall and rise,
where the depths and heights you reach don’t even move you
Don’t even change you no more
or ever
How you look like yesterday's tears and damp and fog
and still cling to the dry and parched of things
How you baptise their bodies and their mouths
and get nothing more
than yourself back
in different form.
Cannot be that blind a thing,
that pushed to move to nowhere and everywhere at the same time
and back thing
and blue thing
and black to reflect the moods of the sky thing,
a neat mess of a thing
huddled to look the same as
and cling to everything else you were created next to forever thing,
void of choice, helpless,
yet so full of strength
and potential if you could escape thing
inanimate and life at the same time thing,
a slave of creation thing.
Just a wave thing.
I will never be just a wave thing.
Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 2:20 AM UTC
Another glass of wine, to silence the silence speaking within my mind.
Another laugh... Another whine, these ten thousand thoughts, and their sweet sorrows; I claim as mine.
Another glass of wine, for these wounds shall be slow to close with time. Numb me, by the virtue of the Vine; liberate my heart of the bitterness of Lime; baptise me, as yet another glass of wine; I claim as mine.
Jan 21, 2021
Jan 21, 2021 at 10:08 AM UTC
When the Spirit's around - that's the third of the Three -
He regularly raises fresh questions for me:
You see , He's both the sought and the seeker, the truth and the teacher
the help and the helper, the gift and the giver.
He's the breath and the voice, the chooser, the choice
the anointer, the oil, the peace and turmoil.
He's the joy and the cries, always there to baptise
the bearer of fruit with fresh gifts to boot.
He's as wild as the wind, He'll breeze where He will
I've tried to contain Him, but He won't remain still.
I can't ever define Him, can't assign Him a label,
just accept He's my God and that my God is able
to be true to His Word while resisting defining
He'll still leave me questions, but that's not surprising.
He kicked off creation, gave the church her fresh start
and we're just the latest to play our small part.
Jan 21, 2023
Jan 21, 2023 at 12:08 PM UTC
longing. yearning. wanting. so many words for
a singular feeling. they never taught me how
to love an enigma. mystery’s an intrigue.
it wrenches you in like
beast in beauty and the beast. joker in joker—
now this is not to say you’re a ******* furry or
an anarchist’s wet dream: you are holy.
holy, as in baptise me
in your aprillian light;
grind my guts into grime
break my bones into brimstones and
let me love you twice
as hard. thrice the hurt.
four times the trouble,
five times the heart
you see, i’m very good at counting.
i’ll even do it for the both of us.
like how it’s been 437 days since saturn tore her knees.
75 days since you were anointed god.
20 after we fell apart and i know
i’m jumping into conclusions again. i know
you never said goodbye. not really,
but what is “see you when i see you” if not a gentle rejection?
you’re very fond of maybes,
that’s how i knew you were god.
so maybe we’ll meet in september,
shades of chartreuse forgotten under our feet.
changes in the weather, changes in the sweater
your touch no longer seduces me like summer
so then maybe,
with bones regrown like eden
i will reach for your temple
and show you how much i love you.
Jun 9, 2020
Jun 9, 2020 at 6:59 AM UTC
skyscrapers touch with their narcissistic needles
the fake, pale american sky
they stab him with their sharp needles
and the sky begins to cry
and we call those teardrops "rain"
we call the teardrops "rain"
we call them "rain"
oh liquid moment
oh vain metropolis out of hope
oh slippery, slippery slope
baptise me again
into your soft oblivion
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 8:41 PM UTC
When the Spirit's around
- that's the third of the Three -
He regularly raises
fresh questions for me:
The sought and the seeker
the truth and the teacher
the help and the helper
the gift and the giver?
The breath and the voice
the chooser, the choice
the anointer, the oil
the peace and turmoil?
The joy and the cries
always there to baptise
the bearer of fruit
with fresh gifts to boot?
As wild as the wind
He'll breeze where He will
I've tried to contain Him
but He won't remain still.
I won't ever define Him
or assign Him a lable
just accept He's my God
and that my God is able
to be true to His Word
while resisting defining
He'll still leave me questions
but that's not surprising.
He kicked off creation
was around from the start
and I'm just the latest
to play my small part.
Jul 5, 2019
Jul 5, 2019 at 1:28 AM UTC
Earthbound angel...
pray not weep
for lose of heaven
as I will show you
such love
and tenderness
as to rival even the beauty
of the stars
now hung lack lustered
in a forlorn sky...
let my tears reflect in mine own eyes
your pain
let them wash over you
and cleanse
from you
the sin done unto by others
let them be the waters of life
that bring you
such sweet succour
refreshing
tainted lips with renewed faith
in love and man
Bathe your soul within their depths
and know
though others sought to bring you diamonds
I will baptise and exorcise their daemons
from your mind
Earthbound Angel let me at least try
to heal thee.
Dec 18, 2012
Dec 18, 2012 at 8:16 PM UTC
They that murder,rebuke the devil
They that rob or plunder,rebuke the devil
They that rape,rebuke the devil
They that fornicate,rebuke the devil
They that exploit,rebuke the devil
They that work prostitution,rebuke the devil
They that lie and gossip,rebuke the devil
Oh when will yourself you blame for your own wrongs?
Not the swarm of blames you give the devil baptise your evils with the liquid of virtue
Remember when the devil makes you practice vice,his work is done
but is your work done when you do not virtue?
So equal yourself you scold for not dwelling in virtue
And tell me if when come the doomsday,the devil you will scold to escape the swallow of hell.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 12:29 PM UTC
You are
worshipped
like a regal gilded thing,
charismatic and proud
you are
A people pleaser
with a stern strength
like stone
a face
within a smile
which outshines and belies
the mysteries beneathe
kept well away
those closest
have the faintest of clues
the best of you
learned & removed
A people pleaser
And still
they run to you
in babbles
in gaggles
in herds
to catch you speak
songs of birds
nightingale
hyperkind words
that lift
hope and fallacies
your friends far from plenty
a people pleaser
And still
They covet the time
when you christen the dusk
full of stars and its dust
in their weeping eyes
shower you with adolation
gifts of virgins
virtues
or savage relations
They covet the time.
You are
their lord of lush
their harbinger of pleasures'
promise
a great septre
to baptise them
of sin
release
You are
A man
in a crowd,
pulled in all directions
loud in your reflections
fair to those you meet
shelter them
those heavy
with concrete
streets
A man
And how a man becomes king
your passion and touch
which outshines and belies
lost lust
and a wuthering
heart
of lions
if only they knew
of what I know
of you
with me
we start anew
I am the evidence
another apostle
disassembled
apart I'd
die
unknown
how change is noticed
like a shadow
underfoot
or a deed behind a grin
a footnote
of your transformation
a light
within.
Eye am the evidence
How a man becomes
King...
*(Love is the crown
and you are chosen...)*
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 8:33 PM UTC
I'm in love with a diabolical being
Consume me with the evil of your
soul
Let us drown to the depths of darkness
Drag me to hell then we'll come back
Then I will teach you how to pray,trust and forgive
And you will learn how to have faith
I'll teach you how to live without having to churn and spin your evil threads
Let's cry blood and crush our own hearts
Then thereafter we'l baptise our own souls
And cleanse our own beings
Then we'll be rid of our sinful venom
I will hold you as you choke on your lies
Then offer a glass of salvation when you've struggled enough
I'll let your skin burn till it moults
So you can regret your every sin
I will be your mirror;I will keep your secrets as they are mine
Drag me to hell then we'll come back
Then you won't have to question where we belong...
On the profound side of faith and virtues.
We shall not live in pretence!
Just because we have the courage to
But instead we shall live ib righteousness
How I love thee;let me count the ways
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 10:28 AM UTC
The twine sides of the Golden Threads
shimmers above the inky abyss.
Raining tears of pure starlight
baptise me with your grace.
Wash away my iniquities,
calm my passions that
burn with the lust of
a thousands suns,
and replace them
with the tender
lullaby of the
moons.
Allow
me to be born
again. Allow me to
wake in a sea of clouds,
painted by the daily promise
of many hues. Let me be able to taste
the sweetness that grows, away from any
lemons that dares to moan, and break the shackles.
Allow me to drift.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 12:06 PM UTC
Snow white curls, lagoon blue eyes so sullen. How does it feel? To feel too much. Everything is never done nor felt by halves. It is felt as a whole. A sharp twist of the stomach and weakening of the knees. The slow decent to the floor, with black smearing tears cascading with every inch. On the floor wrapped in a ball. Weeping into her own embrace. Every noise a sound of sorrow.
This is what its like to feel so much and too much. Like a bolt of lightning against the bark, splintered to ash. The fire scorches the heart and consumes it, it is dampened by her weeping tears. She has felt this pain before. She was so happy, her smiles so rare worth more than gold. She put effort and work this time as many times before, and it was all in vain. She remembers...
A little girl barely 13 or 14. Waiting. Hair styled, clothes smart. Pocket money in her purse and such tender selfless love in her heart. That was all in vain. He never turned up. He let her down, and he would repeat this offence as if he had no conscience. She remembers her unanswered calls and texts. She remembers.
Now, she sits crying into her tiny arms again. She is that little girl again. She just wanted to make someone happy, she just wanted to love someone. Just as before. Now as then excuses. He spoke of them, to cover his spineless back. Someone else was to blame. As was this time. She remembers the pain. The pain of whatever I do, no matter how much I love it is not good enough...
The past reminds her. The past haunts her. Poor Dove. Such a frail creature, so hurt, so scared, so forlorn, cannot handle such torment. It is a trigger, a trigger upon a gun. Reaching out, the pain is too great! Like gasoline unto the fire, the flames engulf her. The fires of pain. She reaches out, to self destruction. Convert the inner torment to physical. Poor Dove, she will clip her own wings. She will baptise herself, in blood. Bleed the pain away. The fires of torture, of the past will fade with every cut. The deeper the better. Because she only wants to sleep. Peace.
Peace from the hurt, the past, the triggers, from it all. She grips the blade, a tiny left hand trembling against the flesh. Sitting on her bed, heavily breathing. Tears still flowing down her cheeks into the softness of her ***** The red streams dance down the contours and curves of her legs. It runs between her fingers and down her arm. It is warm, it is the hurt too great to take. The fire which burns her. The past which tortures her. She is quick and furious with every strike, it is her own downfall which brings her comfort. It is her own death which will silence the demons of her past. She begs to meet God. She, Little Dove feels too much, tis too much to take.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC