"biddings" poems
We serve the one that is the father of sithis and the void
The master of what isnt and what is change.
For his dark embrace and loving shadows will keep me hidden
My warmth will come from his dead kiss
My life in service
For the Dread Father
She knows it all
She always know
And we do her biddings
She is the head of our body
We are the listener and four speakers
We are the thumb and fingers of her Black Hand
We serve you
Dear Night Mother
Our brothers and sisters
we are one
In the cloud of the fathers embrace
And in the time we all go to him
Brothers and sisters
What is the color of the night?
Sanguine, my brother
We are one
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
I find myself repeating the verses,
the tones of hope, and embodiments
of kindness; the surreality of freedom,
and reverence.
I find myself, hoping to go back;
though I regret not my growth nor
bending wakes which have aroused
upon the grieving dismissal
of the elements I cursed
over the sake of the intellect.
I rewind, reform, and inform myself;
“these biddings are none but illusions,
ignorance, bewildered by a tragic coat
of happiness”, yet that blinding
world was much more comforting
that my currents misconceptions - the real ones,
which I have never succeeded to eradicate:
the demons.
Were I in the guiding of a celestial mentor,
would it make a difference?
Or would this guardian unveil me as
I proudly did so myself?
I do not wish for a tone,
I do not wish for a course,
I do not wish to the frightening of my curse;
nor a god.
Yet, in these precious and tumbling days,
I find myself praying.
I pray for nothing other than the essence
that left along with these figures.
The child I abandoned in my search
for reason.
I find myself reciting words I never could
have captured, and actions
I never would have wished to perform.
But it is not the words nor actions which
engrave our being - it is our soul.
Mine is hidden.
Conceptual yet senseless.
I find myself singing
the words which used to fill
the ambience with glow
and truth.
But nothing comes of it,
other than my need to recapture
my previous being, while
tangling on to my current presence
and gladfull knowledge.
Though sadness is cause,
I pay no heed towards commotion,
**for I find myself
finding a reason.**
Feb 6, 2013
Feb 6, 2013 at 4:17 PM UTC
A time from now, we'll put the French Riviera to shame
with the spellbinding travesty
of our **********
The stars that grazes the Monte Carlo sky must realize that they've never even really shined once they witness how my eyes will glisten with rapture as you taste me for the very first time.
Oh, we'll hush the musicians of Vienna with the rhythm of our moans, the terrifying yet invigorating song of your gruff voice begging for more.
As we succumb to each other's biddings, the world shall be left helpless with no other choice than to watch.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 12:42 AM UTC
End is the beginning of another doom,
since evils are not born from wombs.
A son he is to a mother,
and so neglected are the symptoms.
Good might be his foundation,
but fate destroys it all.
Struggle is pronounced,
life on fire.
endurance has limits,
the strongest heart dies,
an obstinate, wicked mind arises from ashes.
Then are done the follies, so noticeable,
he is criticized, is made the Villain.
Then the head is on sale,
with biddings so high.
The team that preys on him,
is awarded public acclaim.
Then is he known in history,
God of turmoil.
Stories are made with him as a villain,
and little children taught the false old rhyme,
bad times may break,
but real good stands undestroyed.
Who is the real Villain is to be judged,
As oldest rocks not always yield diamonds.
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
Every day she plants the starseeds
that grow into wishing flowers,
their petals fall down to the earth
and we call them meteor showers.
We beseech the celestial wanderers
and when our words reach her ears,
she makes all our biddings come true,
but each one is stained by her tears.
She yearned for one to call her own
in her garden above the clouds,
but to think of herself and not of the world,
her duty is disavowed.
And so the lonely Starwarden
only smiled on us from above.
She could not keep the wish of another
just because she wished for love.
Jul 18, 2017
Jul 18, 2017 at 11:42 PM UTC
ICU Waiting Room in Advent
Artistic gilded deer repose in peace
Among the store-room-dusty plastic leaves
Of decorator-decorated wreaths;
From thence they gaze serenely down upon
Sneeze-spotted pics in People magazine
And empty coffee cups recyled from
Recycled natural fibers recycled
From green fair trade recycled soy inks.
No ikons grace this dying-place, no cross,
No crucifix to focus farewell prayers;
Christ’s people gather lovingly around,
Their baseball caps thrall-ringed about their heads
In devout remembrance of passing souls.
Their cell-phone aps pass through their vague, weak eyes
As once the ancient biddings and prayer-worn beads
Slipped gently through the lips and hands of men.
Dec 11, 2016
Dec 11, 2016 at 4:37 PM UTC
Bang on cue, minions slither and seeth
same ole, same ole, predictability of the stunted
volume speaks volume as delusions entrenches
We are fixated don't shatter our morbid trances
The lions of Jada Pinkett not those of Judah
the producers of demented illusions from Studio Z
We don't deal in truths and reality, we wrinkle too quickly
Reality ages us, let just make it up as we go along
We need the miseries of those we envy to feed on
forget the cut price botox it does nothing for our falling faces
We can't even get earth shattering ******* from our duds
to lift our moods, so in our minds we own your dolphin
What are we going to do with our miseries and mediocrity
That strong small herculian dark hero, tied up in chains
as we pleasure and play with that renowned mahogany sword
is a fantasy that blows our minds and satiates us real good
Scripting an Eastern Love interest we are thwarting is so ******
How dare ruin our fantasies and remind us we are deluded
We can't accept all our combined efforts and dramatics
Not to mention our gullible menfolks who skip and hop to our biddings
As we tease and rile them to hatred for that swoony stallion.
Please keep your truth to yourself.
It won't stop us, reality and truth annoys us, we need our chained beast with that wonder mahogany sword
Oh that fierce passion, that unleashed weapon in our control
Just the thought makes us moist already....ohooo...ohooo..ohhoo
Dec 27, 2018
Dec 27, 2018 at 11:07 AM UTC
Must you tangle the Pentagram complex
When it's Design drawn so Fine and Simple?
Mystic Sentients confer by reflex
And peel away any sagging Dimple
If I choose the Fray - the Crowd rotten within
Verify my Assets thus turn my Goals foul
Yet no Signals phase for Directions therein
Save peppered tidbits make Worth for the Soul
Where's the Error then? Despite Morals bade
Reflect each other's Values by Variance
As your Self-Filled Generals lift and fade
Deny a Potent Treasure by Distance.
Yet still I Noticed: A Programme does Flow
One which your Reason placed Biddings enow.
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 1:12 AM UTC
Mistakes are something we are forced to live with.
More so than scars or badges of honor.
And that's a good thing. As long as we live with our mistakes, we won't repeat them.
But does that matter to those trespassed against? To those the mistakes were committed unto? No. And it shouldn't, the mistake is what matters. And the one in the wrong isn't the only one forced to live with.
Mistakes often come about from selfishness, and selfishness serves no one, abides by no biddings.
As it shouldn't.
Forgiveness is a hard fought battle for humans. Forgiveness for yourself, lovers, friends and enemies. They're all hard to come by and must be striven for.
The ache that's been lingering between my eyeballs the past twenty four hours is constant and stabbing. That's where I'm keeping my mistakes. Somewhere that will never be out of site or mind.
This mistake is large and so my whole body aches. No, reader, don't say you're sorry, you have nothing to be sorry for and I deserve the pain I feel. I deserve the back of my eyelids swimming with images and my ear drums ringing with a single sentence and I want to apologize every time i hear those words. Those words are for you and for me and I will keep them and they will make my body stimulated and tense until I have forgiven myself.
I don't want to forgive myself. I don't deserve it, just as you didn't deserve to be the receiver of my mistakes.
I promised myself I wouldn't write this.
My will power is week and
I don't know, I have a thousand more things to say but they only matter to me and so I shall keep them.
I hope for three things;
The first: you're happiness and well being
The second: you're friendship.
The third is selfish and so I shall keep it to myself.
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 2:33 AM UTC
deflated dimples
frosted frowns
crusty clowns
and crispy crowns
boiled biddings
cuddle puddles
and fearful fillings
spoiled spillings
double trouble
secret spitting
crepuscular vapor
nicotine taper
look in the mirror
meet your maker
long walk faker
tick tock taker
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
My swollen tongue has derived over time and the spacing is deliberate.
I've acquired a mind cunning and venomous, ****** for its immaculate canyons.
"Welcome to the Lottery," they said, the snares and the eyes were plenty.
Restraint and conviction aside, any place outside of my throbbing mess of an entity was nowhere for me to be.
But this made me the culprit, the messiah, and the victim.
The slayer, the lover, the slain, and the fighter.
The refugee, the all-knowing, the patron saint, and the living dead.
All of whom could digress that I would never escape such an untimely event.
There was no response to my oncoming tidings, biddings, and affairs.
Although, I can tell you I was found amongst the flowers and the sewer rats.
Mar 26, 2013
Mar 26, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
et go the bird that doth not fly
Release the prisoner whom do no harm
Let run the horse hast he no legs
Does not the heart beating within thine own chest
Scream to be released from its cage of bone
Does not the soul held within the walls of flesh and blood
Plead to be set free free of its fleshly grave
Can not you hear the crimson tide of blood and bile
Gurgling in your ears to flow upon this baron land
Does not the pulsating between your fleshy lobes
Beg to explode gray matter into space so cold
Use your head your really dead this is all an illusion
Think about it this cant be that which really isn't there
Nothing for your eyes to see so is it dark in there
Nothing for your ears to hear so have you gone def
Do you really feel the pain burning deep within
Is your insanity driving the living mad from your rantings
Are you paranoid theyll dig up your pallid bones
Will there mournful cries drive you from your grave
To haunt the men and children of your disdain
Will the love they had become anew in your rotting heart
Will the freedom they held become your captor
Relentless as it may be but your pain is for eternity
Youll never harm another as you have done before
Youll stand at the gates of hell and time anguishing in misery
Youll beg of fleshly fiends to do your biddings no more
All the while you remember the lifes you stole
From those you were to week and embarrassed to ****
Believe in that which cant be seen
Remember that which was told of you
Your only mortal but time and death
Will take their toll and come calling at hearts door
Death has come with its misgiving
Blood has boiled in your veins
Hear the whisper of the living
As the screaming of the dead
See the blood that leaves its stains
As the making of your graveyard bed.
Dec 18, 2010
Dec 18, 2010 at 9:15 AM UTC
And the silence
of the abbey church
overwhelmed me
and that solitary monk
sitting in the choir stalls
alone in semi-dark praying,
Dei silentium coram Deo,
that time in the latrines
in the abbey
late evening
looking out a window
towards the harbour
with lights of ships
and houses and cafes
and me there solitary
looking homewards,
luminaria in mundo,
and Hugh talking about
someone walking past
his door noisily
in morning time
thinking it me
but I went
another way
and told him,
nella preghiera
tocchiamo Dio
the Italian monk
said to me
as we stood
in the cloister
before Vespers,
Dom Leo by the bell ropes
in the cloister
outside the refectory
saying farewell
then off to Rome
and shook hands,
and that French monk said
jamais perdu dans
l'amour de Dieu
and he was tall
and seemed in another world,
I felt the rough brickwork
as I walked past
the statue of the Madonna
my fingers sensed it
at the tips,
she had undressed
and said have me
before my husband comes
so I did,
możesz mieć mnie tutaj
that Polish girl said
*** she meant
but it was an old guy's
bedroom so I declined,
be ready to do battle
under the biddings
of holy obedience
Benedict said
(the saint),
a philosopher
who takes no part
in discussions
is like a boxer
who never goes
into the ring
said Gareth
quoting Wittgenstein,
in silentio et lumen
Dom Joe(dear Bunny) said
God is found
and we walked down
the path from
the shore to the cloister
beneath trees
and that silent
from the shore breeze.
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
Dancing music chord
On a Friday night
And sipping classic drugs
An euphoria between the eyes.
Attempted dance missed the legs,
Emptiness and hollow feelings.
The eyes are thin and might be red
Two more sips to do the biddings.
Life is short and no retry,
Anaesthesia to help feel fine
And a reminder for tonight,
That It's a beautiful Friday to be alive.
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 4:20 AM UTC
Speaking to Dragons is oft' absurd
Quite Frequently they don't
understand a word
they snort and blow Because you know
They will only listen to Dragons tales
they lower their heads and sigh,
to hear of kings,with Golden Wings
that ruled Against the Sky
Dragons Crowned Above the ground
Against a Sky of Azure Blue,
Where Royal Dragon Kings Flew, and with
Terror and Fear for when they were near
All knew to do their Biddings Bane
Or feel the whip of brimstone flame
more and more they became bejeweled
Till to the Sky they Could Nor Rule
and Fires hot became now cool
And in the End they lost the Fire
Having Chained themselves to their own Desire
The listening beast shed one single Tear
.........................JMF 10/21/2014
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 3:28 AM UTC
When the birds start to swim,
And the fish decide to fly,
When the owls start to hoot at the sun,
And when the sun comes out, the lions hide.
When the sky becomes the water hole,
And the rivers possess the clouds.
When our feet start to run on dry ocean floors
And we suddenly fall into sand and drown.
When serpents decide to kiss Eve's cheek,
And doves hiss temptations in the ear.
When vultures come to celebrate new life,
And eagles start to fly in fear.
When demons start to work in the day,
And angels do evil biddings at night.
When queens are no more, and dead kings don't decay.
When rights become wrongs and wrongs become life...
When blood becomes water,
And tears travel through veins,
When the pacifist seeks war,
And the ********* hates pain,
When eyes start to hear,
And ears give sight,
When arms are used to run,
And legs are used to fly,
When gravestones make loved ones smile
And a stab to the heart becomes a kiss
That is the only time you and I
Will have the courage to exist.
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 3:06 PM UTC
My soul doesn't build any buildings,
No mistery would be hidden in that,
Lonely scaffolds in endless swamps are rather my soul's biddings.
Dec 9, 2020
Dec 9, 2020 at 2:02 AM UTC