Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
from Adroaldo

My brother,
my dear brother,
good Morning!
The dawn
show in your face
and shine in your life!
His days
are rich
of joy.
My love
and baby
Brother,
We are alive!
I have to tell you:
we are alive!
You
are not
alone!
You're
in my heart
and in my soul.
You're
Inside of me
and in the reflection of water.
You are a part of me
and I'm part
from you!
We are one
among
all others.
We do not
we are
alone.
That day
witness
our birth!
The dawn
realizes
our existence!
The fields
receive
our steps!
The world
to accept
our presence!
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
there are times
I try to tell you
One thing:
I am here!
Listen to me:
I am here!
You
are not
alone!
I need
hopelessly
from you.
I need
hopelessly
know you.
I need
hopelessly
being with you!
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
My tent
It's open
To you
If you want
hide yourself
this cold night.
My tent
it’s open
to you
if you want
trick
the fury of the wolves.
My heart
it’s on
to your heart.
My blood
is red
just like yours.
Nor time
cannot
erase it.
Neither life
can erase
that.
My brother,
who will be you
in this crowd?
Embrace the truth
or will be
Illusion?
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
realizes
the darkness
to come?
Realizes
the evil
now it is growing?
Hear the sound
thunder
far!
Hear the sound
saxophones
far!
Listening
the beating of wings
Grasshoppers!
Listen
to the shouts of the
angry mob!
The crowd
chasing
the insistent
hunger
for blood
between his teeth.
Everybody wants
a piece
of us.
Everyone wants
a pound
of our flesh.
They come
during
at night.
They come
during
the day.
They
never
sleep.
They
never
give up.
I see only
hate
in your eyes.
I see only
rebellion
in your eyes.
They are born
the murmurings
and strife.
They are the result
of anger
and hypocrisy.
They venerate
marble
idols.
Idols of gold,
silver
and bronze.
They cry out
a piece
of our land.
They require
even the sweat
of our foreheads.
No food
in this land
to sustain
for your
hunger
it is rampant.
There blanket
in this land
that heat
for your heart
it is the winter cold
more extreme.
There is no justice
in this land
satisfying
for expect
the greater evil
always prevail.
There is no reason
for none of this
happen
and yet
all
it happens!
Who
put our brothers
against us?
Who
he puts us against
our own brothers?
Who on this earth,
really,
It's us?
Who on this earth,
Really,
are they?
Who knows
which side is the
mirror?
All this hatred
not born alone
in the dunes.
All this anger
it does not grow alone
in the sand.
So who hate us so much
dearly beloved
brother?
Who, long ago
has played in
against each other?
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
someone, some time ago,
steals
all our cattle.
Someone, long ago
defiles
all our water.
Someone, some time ago
assaults
our dreams.
Someone, some time ago
Burn
all that's left us.
However, those who hate us
such a long time
beloved brother?
The guilt
all this
It is not yours.
The guilt
all this
It is not mine.
So who will
In fact,
all the blame?
Who will be,
after all, our
single accuser?
Who is coming
to steal
all our breath?
Who is coming
to destroy
our hopes?
Who
was born
a feud?
Who
was born
a simple lie?
Who crawls
among the lizards
desert?
Who conversation
with the stars
Infinity?
Who plot
against their
own brothers?
Who blasphemes
in the heavens
and the creator himself?
Who will be
our biggest
Killer?
Who will be
our biggest
opponent?
Who will be
our brother
unknown?
Who will go
breaking the silence
in this order so violent?
My brother,
I beg you to save me
these ***** streets.
I beg you to hold me
tonight
so cold and so dark.
I beg you to grant me
a simple prayer
in this momentary silence.
Someone plot
constantly
against us.
Someone
Want to see
our end.
My brother,
dearly beloved
brother,
Hug me
when the wind
It is too cold.
Hug me
when you hear
my sigh of pain.
My hands
tremble
cold and fear.
My bones
tremble
cold and fear.
My brother,
where will you be
Now?
You will be
inside cars
passing fast.
You will be
in shop windows
of expensive clothes shops.
You will be
the billboards neon
in downtown.
You will be
in advertisements
famous brand.
Where you
will,
my beloved brother?
The sound
thunder
gets closer!
Almost
explode
my heart!
My bones
tremble
cold and fear.
I hope
for something
not owes me explanation.
I hope
for something
I do not understand.
I hope
for something
it is a revelation.
May
arise
among cacti.
Surely,
grow
among the burned grass.
Maybe
it’s only
a dream.
Perhaps
more
a desire hidden.
My brother,
in this special day,
who will you be today.
In this special day,
where is
you today?
It will be you,
my brother,
my only friend.
It will be you,
my brother,
my greatest enemy?
Will you
brother, beside me
in this cold night?
Will you
Brother, with
in the angry mob?
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
It will be you
That
Sleeping out in the open?
It will be you
that one that
Fight against the cold?
It will be you
that
you face the wolves.
It will be you
that
that protects your?
Who will be
You
my dear and beloved brother?
My brother,
I implore
receiving me.
My brother,
I beg
to listen to me.
My dear
and beloved brother,
accept me!
Notice me,
understand me
and shelter me.
Accept me
the way
that I am!
I receive
in his tent
on that cold night.
Accept me
Open arms
that night so dark.
I may welcome
in these days
so dark.
Protect me
these days
so terrible.
My love
and dear brother,
Hug me.
I need
much
you hold me.
I need
the air
you breathe.
I need
address
of your steps.
I need
hear
your hoarsely
same
whatever
for a moment fiddling.
Same
whatever
for a second measly.
It
does not say
absolutely anything.
It
tells me
absolutely everything.
I need
to listen
I open my heart
Even if
only
for a second.
My brother,
My dear
and beloved brother,
I feel
all the cold
ahead.
I see
all fear
what is not explained.
I need
so much
from you!
I need
that you
be around here
and warm me
If this cold
Persist.
I need
that you
protect me
case
all evil
I reach.
I need
so much
from you!
I need
to guide me
in this dense night.
I need
that hides me
the hungry wolves.
dissipating
all
my fears,
to wash
all
my sins,
to dry
even
my tears,
that fight
By me
with all his strength.
I need
both of you,
my dear brother.
I like both
powers play
his face again.
I would love
feeling
the skin again.
I need to both
hear
your voice again.
I need
to feel
your presence again.
I need
you to hold me;
and that this embrace is sincere.
I need you
to tell me
not to be afraid anymore.
I need you
to tell me
that will be all right!
The sound of thunder
It's deafening
and if ever closer.
The hunger of wolves
ceases neither
with the dawn.
I see whole cities
ablaze
on fire.
I see the darkness
blacker
take shape quickly.
I see food to perdition
satisfied
a flock of sheep.
I see the flock embrace the night
and join
in the pack.
I see wolves
and sheep
fraternizing.
I see them embrace
the full evil
in a night deal.
Before my eyes
finally
I see the end unfolding.
I hear the sound of thunder
finally
in its fullness.
There is no more
sell some
in my eyes.
I see millions
issuing his last breath
before my eyes.
My brother,
my dear and beloved
Brother,
how can I say
how much
I love you?
How can I say
how much
you’ll be missed?
How can I say
how much
I loved you in life?
How do I look
in your eyes
knowing that never see you?
Who put
this blood
in my hands?
Who put
this weapon
in my hands?
My dear
and loved
brother,
at where
will be
you?
Will be
you
in the cotton fields?
Will be
you
coal mines?
Will be
you
in the bar tables?
Will be
you
in lullabies?
Will be
you
the stone dungeons?
Will be
you
the yellow pages?
Will be
you
in the desert mountains?
Will be
you
in concrete forests?
Will be
you
in love letters?
Will be
you
in horror stories?
Will be
you
among the persecuted
or is
In between
Persecutors?
Will you
In between
The empty belly
or are
In between
who has everything?
Will you
In between
the most popular
or is
In between
Disposable?
Will you
In between
settlers
or is
In between
Colonized?
My brother,
my dear
And beloved brother,
will you
In between
Elected?
Will you
In between
The unfortunates?
Embrace
my
problems,
embrace
my
fights,
embrace
my
­­tears,
embrace
my
hiccups,
embrace
my
scars,
I pray that the Lord
in receive
open arms.
May the Lord
the accepted
at the end.
The King of kings
in receives
in his Kingdom.
I can hold you
finally
without fear.
I can love you
finally
without fear.
May we
we
to recognize
simply
as...

Brothers!
Kaitelka; Whale Mongolic down, first whale which said syndrome, evidenced by their presence, as didgeridoo, as spitting but more hypersonic, hyper cetacean moving his tail, Burguete funds, learned to swim faster than anything, but the Nautilus, not He paid attention to his mother in his care skills, but bad luck that can befall if not moderate their exalting and allergic omitted cases to obey.

So all blue, but little Kaitelka, seeking friendship among their peers, but he put  a tambourine limit gave him leftovers and liked more than a day a thousand years of perfect instincts. So step aside by the fire, and dodged the deafening roar of nymph Satinga; the most ancient senator of the headpiece, always full on its plateau of ******* hydrochloride that resistance, if they pass a thousand years and I do not understand these pairs, I adjusted my engine, but to no avail me, my instincts are diluted and slim as downpour edges left by the wayside in infants and solfa. That Jesus Light was said behind the screen rainbow arch, he takes her hand to Kaitelka, and back by the outer estuary, they attack by instinct ministry of evil.

Mildew petrified oaks, disorients the abject warty troughs the disordering of the genetic instinct, if I have to pause my essence, I leave in the hands of Joshua stone from beyond. Where the ticket is worth more to me, but I get the same. Where evil knows well, but tasteless well. Underground, underwater., Kaitelka take any more, wheels come and go, instinct taking shredding herbs near the sea, no longer separates me more. Bright the famous day that rebukes my dreams rather than a whole, plastering, or monument flash highborn of Mongolic loves whales, classless or inheritances acquired record. Kaitelka and in gratitude to accompany my walk, to the junction of Lisbon, walking from room to room, to begin the pilgrimage, his steps were Glup, Glup like a pretty varmint, over the hills she is beginning to the descritery of Satinga, or rather the descritery of Sapiens Hommo, rummaging instinct of love today, then unloved. Native forests make pairings, but separate links non-energy cataclysms, similar to the new alliance valley radial wave, tuned cetacean sonar power can be glimpsed.

The Ministry of Evil is no end to the retrospective marvel at Noe, Isaac or Abraham, or Luther King, is the delayed form of unsettled muscle primo Evo madding to neo Evo updated, and neither bells sound the same, as reboot gray phthisis diseases degenerate and synthetic. The instinct to put your hands into the fire will be lost ..., so more pace to the back of them cutting the seas in arithmetical divisions, if commend my antidepressants depressive relatives, caress the sea in each constipated solstice, I go every night with daisies in my hands defying every cliff, every cave turned into a tavern, killing instinct, when the brain is nothing, sprayed kerosene on stage, to see my beloved before he dies of a blowgun.  

Joshua Stone and Bernardolipus in a crossroad, spin the grazing, the black sheep, is barren, its classic label of Segregated debased soul, but defecated humanoid comment sing out of tune the territory themselves.  Three-step, three-way, Joshua embraces Bernardolipo. Welcome starts. Satinga you slice ferns and wild beast, vomits both diazepams swallowed, do not sleep, dreams transpose half orb. Halos, half halos, iridescent arcades, and warm breezes, must preamble Donated high liking. Soft and warm look, I do not lose my plate potato near my belly, warm adobe cellar. Nymph Satinga of reaction in reaction out of tune and the highlights midwife psoriasis for its reddish dermis by a fungus worming. The re instinct starts to chew his skull, dread end of the border. The cookies Lord is sending us on napkins.

Pre urbane figure born, they appear a hundred suns, so the crowd out who has the audacity to reveal the discrete enigma, the puzzle while the floor moves the seizure ... all stunned waiting for the flash Ritual to start the preliminary stage, the paradigm of unshelled trees, tough tables roll by the church at the foot of flowers crocuses scrolls flat estate. For the baptistery inscrutability warmth your network back double halo on the moon, scrub that level. Abyss where I fall near aspire to the coachman, I go away over time from heaven minute no second in hours where the avalanche of time lose my look to hold any deity that does not prevent the tendency to lose those not facing front, a day like this you do not walk any shadow, nor the Horcondising I would like to Santorini. The Borker wrongheaded, burning a cigar in rib Kaitelka, it provides a stunning scream as the end of the world, giving birth to the sky his beautiful breeding, as a good omen to present to the crowd in the Octagon and pleased transit day often fruity crestfallen fig.  

Adelimpia,  Strongly taken the and Thunder Aunt, washed in the backroom their aprons with Christmas, whose magical and enlightening sense, they were the Three Wise Princes, sons of the same kings of Israel. Sitting on some cobs, heritages from last wheel spikes. On warm evenings mantra Baba Nam Kevalam, I do not stay alone without others to see this magical high flood flow mention aversion in pontificates, necessary, pal meal with wine apocalyptic pale rider, Napoleonic soldier dethroned.

Thousands of hectares grassland in loving with heavenly muddy, as adhering to the force of Sorcery Camphor to move everything to the midnight launch eclipse. Thousands of hectares squirts do not possess any extension ratio, giddiness master eye, losing possession. What is Slice is Caren Lagoon, which is Alhué Village is Polulo mountain near the place, what Pichi of Barrancas... Out of my roles temple or regulators, as night plans still dating Jack, with overall equidistant to all orphan girl lost in the jungle inbenign . Cutting room of breath begins threshing., afar put the trays, and poor saint not to attend, this clever move, all atheists bruised, stiff and deprived of the worst failure smoothness, it´s the earth not plowed,                    
              
Dreams whistles hills ... Ghosts and spurs  ... Elegy opaque optical floors, all at Aunty Thunder dream the same...

If you can call night, inland sea waves have to educate infant’s tsunamis, they live among geological forces off the coast of scudding clouds of ... where she cuts through. Where our conscience, should play down a Machiavellian zero to roll it to the belly of the whale down. Their heavy udders milk, as long as a wild bird dueled, mounted in their beards, but the bird slips for his little body often and disadvantaged, to fall into the enzyme flash neuron meditatively; aspiring meditatively. While tsunamis grow, the mountains grow, decreases Hommo sapiens, conscience, he has left, minus zero exiled to the **** pony pens, to create their neighborhood over the eyes of a pupil of warty lameness. Reborn storm, stately power, Nymph Hetaira, who seduces the ringer smith, golden horseshoe, pal new millennium. His no longer harp, sewing lips ant, threading needles Grandma milking herbs get a grotto, families abandoned, shrill understatement by the echoes of the West, for you my Transients soliloquy turbid straightening of holistic aqueous molecules who want to sleep in my hands.

Good beverage, good consciousness nursery. Sleepily he walks by the barbed wire of stupid sort of busybody in thickness bolognese, or bandoneon, pilaster grandson male, to Vizcaya sailing or North Toscana, where after a barricade, Piedmont jumps to the south under Pichi.

They are falling water molecules on Maitén tree, or Tomato Adelimpia bow, and on the fibrous and head hair grass grandmamma Anna. Junks greet Bernardolipo, which was fishing with his wounded eyes, but the rub his mouth on the back of Kaitelka, calcium verve in carrousel turned. Line up the right hand, bottled lady Juana, he stretched to crush cilantro, but no ... or both...

Reigns for ?, to allocate a stop along the way, West Side Story Pichi. We are a few steps from misting dawn of propionate Stoics lash the oppressed people, clear water, singing  ... neuron in neuron, the cell last neuron, with the bow remained foul-mouthed, to shuffle, or Kawashkar Chilean Indian the slice of the leg, looking shoe children who roam the street without a blanket. They close their eyes, tears of shame. Here you are ecstatic stiffs arrows bows, feathers swaying in edgings shields tangled, hordes of haggard eyes flamed flames that no impudence and, which limp to a scoundrel that stuns resistant to fall on the sand. Show your dream, that dream bathe.

Continues the fierce Primor, falls brochures from red heaven fall prayers stammering to advance on this land saga, fall rustic donatives of grandmamma Mayor of coelum, Joshua insomniac in his tabernacle, defoliating his tome skip and jump down the estuary, before every misstep, holy water to step, a smile the Loica rural place Or a caress to the cheek moon in the arms of a blackbird, manacled to a rasp, stove teapot levitating top where grandmamma Adelimpia wheezes. Hail Mary ever ******, the other day, I heard that in September, flapping fall on Fiddler praise, perhaps mediate, for bad talking, founder of my undying love of life joined empty verbs on clovers where I to live forever, pre, pre paella prize moaning on my shoulder osteoarthritis crucifying collapsed tree. Nightmare builds a ship to reach Legion Mary. Centerfold, guns, howitzers, dissident’s ovaries ... final pages, declamatory winds ... perhaps agonizing leg expectantly... Or delusional feet of premature mortality, which brought pray to heaven, earth ... at soon I have to forget. The earth gives me the cheese, and bread sandwiching it goes...

Between him and earth coelum I doze my motive piece body, my shepherd Beetle Maximilian of Auschwitz sprayed me holy water the Vistula, I kneel down my hinges, and my hands for pray by pure attained effort, ***** great feat, who believes fall the abyss, and just below the earth tremulous, bell, first-throat yawning, loose cassock sounds a rainy morning, falling in the forest priority to see all morning, brimming with couplets of snow.

Continue to fall aqueous molecules, Kaitelka divides the estuary waters. Sheets of – Talami rural high lawns and wise water, South of  Pichi. Follow the dream, and just needed to uprighted the cabin, roaring gallop, wake up tomorrow morning sweaty dancing aqua, font of Lourdes, the four simultaneously open their headlights eyes, unblinking as echoes swimming duck feeding their young in the obsidian lagoon. Rock palafitte a piece of coal painted black each carriage serene, going from the Cantillana Mountain. Blasphemes morning fall roe bellowing wind annoyed tongue, windless striding through the window, thunderbirds mistress thousand flanks, now mount the besieged strands of colloidal solid. Elegy, opaque optical dreams, and drovers days nearsighted, soon saved our lives...

The never End.
hiperverb and imaginery poetry, based upon the eternal endless realistic living and non  logic  retoric literature.
copyrigth JOSE LUIS CT  2018
Oh! could I hope the wise and pure in heart
Might hear my song without a frown, nor deem
My voice unworthy of the theme it tries,--
I would take up the hymn to Death, and say
To the grim power, The world hath slandered thee
And mocked thee. On thy dim and shadowy brow
They place an iron crown, and call thee king
Of terrors, and the spoiler of the world,
Deadly assassin, that strik'st down the fair,
The loved, the good--that breath'st upon the lights
Of virtue set along the vale of life,
And they go out in darkness. I am come,
Not with reproaches, not with cries and prayers,
Such as have stormed thy stern insensible ear
From the beginning. I am come to speak
Thy praises. True it is, that I have wept
Thy conquests, and may weep them yet again:
And thou from some I love wilt take a life
Dear to me as my own. Yet while the spell
Is on my spirit, and I talk with thee
In sight of all thy trophies, face to face,
Meet is it that my voice should utter forth

Thy nobler triumphs: I will teach the world
To thank thee.--Who are thine accusers?--Who?
The living!--they who never felt thy power,
And know thee not. The curses of the wretch
Whose crimes are ripe, his sufferings when thy hand
Is on him, and the hour he dreads is come,
Are writ among thy praises. But the good--
Does he whom thy kind hand dismissed to peace,
Upbraid the gentle violence that took off
His fetters, and unbarred his prison cell?
Raise then the Hymn to Death. Deliverer!
God hath anointed thee to free the oppressed
And crush the oppressor. When the armed chief,
The conqueror of nations, walks the world,
And it is changed beneath his feet, and all
Its kingdoms melt into one mighty realm--
Thou, while his head is loftiest, and his heart
Blasphemes, imagining his own right hand
Almighty, sett'st upon him thy stern grasp,
And the strong links of that tremendous chain
That bound mankind are crumbled; thou dost break
Sceptre and crown, and beat his throne to dust.
Then the earth shouts with gladness, and her tribes
Gather within their ancient bounds again.
Else had the mighty of the olden time,
******, Sesostris, or the youth who feigned
His birth from Lybian Ammon, smote even now
The nations with a rod of iron, and driven
Their chariot o'er our necks. Thou dost avenge,
In thy good time, the wrongs of those who know

No other friend. Nor dost thou interpose
Only to lay the sufferer asleep,
Where he who made him wretched troubles not
His rest--thou dost strike down his tyrant too.
Oh, there is joy when hands that held the scourge
Drop lifeless, and the pitiless heart is cold.
Thou too dost purge from earth its horrible
And old idolatries; from the proud fanes
Each to his grave their priests go out, till none
Is left to teach their worship; then the fires
Of sacrifice are chilled, and the green moss
O'ercreeps their altars; the fallen images
Cumber the weedy courts, and for loud hymns,
Chanted by kneeling crowds, the chiding winds
Shriek in the solitary aisles. When he
Who gives his life to guilt, and laughs at all
The laws that God or man has made, and round
Hedges his seat with power, and shines in wealth,--
Lifts up his atheist front to scoff at Heaven,
And celebrates his shame in open day,
Thou, in the pride of all his crimes, cutt'st off
The horrible example. Touched by thine,
The extortioner's hard hand foregoes the gold
Wrong from the o'er-worn poor. The perjurer,
Whose tongue was lithe, e'en now, and voluble
Against his neighbour's life, and he who laughed
And leaped for joy to see a spotless fame
Blasted before his own foul calumnies,
Are smit with deadly silence. He, who sold
His conscience to preserve a worthless life,

Even while he hugs himself on his escape,
Trembles, as, doubly terrible, at length,
Thy steps o'ertake him, and there is no time
For parley--nor will bribes unclench thy grasp.
Oft, too, dost thou reform thy victim, long
Ere his last hour. And when the reveller,
Mad in the chase of pleasure, stretches on,
And strains each nerve, and clears the path of life
Like wind, thou point'st him to the dreadful goal,
And shak'st thy hour-glass in his reeling eye,
And check'st him in mid course. Thy skeleton hand
Shows to the faint of spirit the right path,
And he is warned, and fears to step aside.
Thou sett'st between the ruffian and his crime
Thy ghastly countenance, and his slack hand
Drops the drawn knife. But, oh, most fearfully
Dost thou show forth Heaven's justice, when thy shafts
Drink up the ebbing spirit--then the hard
Of heart and violent of hand restores
The treasure to the friendless wretch he wronged.
Then from the writhing ***** thou dost pluck
The guilty secret; lips, for ages sealed,
Are faithless to the dreadful trust at length,
And give it up; the felon's latest breath
Absolves the innocent man who bears his crime;
The slanderer, horror smitten, and in tears,
Recalls the deadly obloquy he forged
To work his brother's ruin. Thou dost make
Thy penitent victim utter to the air
The dark conspiracy that strikes at life,

And aims to whelm the laws; ere yet the hour
Is come, and the dread sign of ****** given.
Thus, from the first of time, hast thou been found
On virtue's side; the wicked, but for thee,
Had been too strong for the good; the great of earth
Had crushed the weak for ever. Schooled in guile
For ages, while each passing year had brought
Its baneful lesson, they had filled the world
With their abominations; while its tribes,
Trodden to earth, imbruted, and despoiled,
Had knelt to them in worship; sacrifice
Had smoked on many an altar, temple roofs
Had echoed with the blasphemous prayer and hymn:
But thou, the great reformer of the world,
Tak'st off the sons of violence and fraud
In their green pupilage, their lore half learned--
Ere guilt has quite o'errun the simple heart
God gave them at their birth, and blotted out
His image. Thou dost mark them, flushed with hope,
As on the threshold of their vast designs
Doubtful and loose they stand, and strik'st them down.

Alas, I little thought that the stern power
Whose fearful praise I sung, would try me thus
Before the strain was ended. It must cease--
For he is in his grave who taught my youth
The art of verse, and in the bud of life
Offered me to the muses. Oh, cut off
Untimely! when thy reason in its strength,
Ripened by years of toil and studious search

And watch of Nature's silent lessons, taught
Thy hand to practise best the lenient art
To which thou gavest thy laborious days.
And, last, thy life. And, therefore, when the earth
Received thee, tears were in unyielding eyes
And on hard cheeks, and they who deemed thy skill
Delayed their death-hour, shuddered and turned pale
When thou wert gone. This faltering verse, which thou
Shalt not, as wont, o'erlook, is all I have
To offer at thy grave--this--and the hope
To copy thy example, and to leave
A name of which the wretched shall not think
As of an enemy's, whom they forgive
As all forgive the dead. Rest, therefore, thou
Whose early guidance trained my infant steps--
Rest, in the ***** of God, till the brief sleep
Of death is over, and a happier life
Shall dawn to waken thine insensible dust.
Now thou art not--and yet the men whose guilt
Has wearied Heaven for vengeance--he who bears
False witness--he who takes the orphan's bread,
And robs the widow--he who spreads abroad
Polluted hands in mockery of prayer,
Are left to cumber earth. Shuddering I look
On what is written, yet I blot not out
The desultory numbers--let them stand.
The record of an idle revery.
Hail to our Christian Nation!
bright light in a dark new world
all nations must become like us
our grand flag we gallantly unfurl

life, liberty and property
a God given natural right
America's rapturous exceptionalism
our birthright and celestial light

for Jesus came not in peace
he brandishes a sharp sword
the Prince of Peace a warrior
its the written holy word

the blessed founding fathers
moved by exalted holy spirit
manifests a divine constitution
with legal slaves for pious despots

forever we must remain vigilant
sentinels of freedom on the watch
poised to launch global drone strikes
righteous retribution is on the march

for we are a Christian nation
bespeaking prophecies of fear
gun sights our holy crosses
a good clean rifle always near

private property a sacred icon
acquisition of more things divine
what's yours is your gladness
but don’t ever covet what's mine

cause I got me a big six shooter
and a Bushmaster just to be sure
if a robber comes a knockin
I’ll drop him at the door

a nation rife with criminals
thieves steal, **** and rob
we pack em off to prisons
in cells forever to rot

cause rehabilitation is too costly
a perps resurrection is no sure bet
criminals are just animals anyway
something we shan’t ever forget

we prefer jails to public schoolin
spare the rod and spoil the man
schools teach secular humanism
blasphemes God’s creation plan

the idle takers are on welfare
make the hard working man poor
God helps those who help themselves
may His grace anoint me with more

when government overreaches
we got 2nd Amendment solutions
Wayne LaPierre a visionary prophet
markets a rise against the Union

we the people alone are righteous
America is one nation under God
Buddha, Allah and blue Krishna
false deities all Baal ‘s frauds

Oh holy of holies E Pluribus Unum
is a God in whom we most trust
our hearts forever invested
for our gold never turns to rust

whoa to jihadists and terrorists
who hate our American dream
mighty God will strike you down
Crusaders will smash your schemes

to all the Godless apostates
may you tremble with fear
Our God will surely smite you
you shall shed bitter tears

so onward Christian soldiers
as our boots troop on to heaven
may providence bless our Canaan
doing the will of the glorious Sovereign

Music Selection:  
Onward Christian Soldiers

Oakland
2/4/13
Shadow Rai Jun 2010
Douse ye flame snub thou to ashes
Bury well thine reserved stashes

...and plead tears hath no mercy
CURSE YE!
Sir, see your deeds cause pleurisy
Neural’s feed off chaos’s vitae stench
whence did ye awaken as a corpse?

Denounce ye faith scrub scour ye caches
Hurry, Hell’s cries serve blasphemes

...and in thine end a fury
WORRY!
For ye shall be judged and juried
Scurry til ye nails wear to a dusting
lusting for a life once lived no more...
© 2008 By Shad
Bonswan Feb 2016
A man kills a man. A ****** blasphemes the resplendent soul of the angelic; ravaging the virtuous house by way of his wicked rapine. Yet the effulgent heart has relinquished the curse of enmity - the noble finds no solace amid the rancor of Hate. Hatred is naught but a vile curse, a bane which plagues the wielder with strife.

Truly I maintain, a condign response commands grace and repose. Do not tolerate the sedative pleasure Hatred bears, for alike an ****** the analgesic peculiarities will soon turn to misery -  unloosing the very wickedness the righteous heart held in such abhorrent contempt.

Only Love can oppose the venom of Hatred and lead the wicked to righteousness. Love will invariably triumph.
A little different from usual, I hope someone gets something out of it. Composed during meditation.
Mahdi Dn Aug 2020
A beating heart, a dream
A dying soul, shedding tear
Fueled with anger, blasphemes
A cast out, breeding hate
Not against man, not against God
Just a selfless strife
On the ways of man and the ways of God

Death is just one breath away,
While living far from lies,
True to self, and the others' lives
Vision so bright, invisible to man
But to this product,
Of blind hatred.

"Omnia mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis;
Tempora mutantur, nos et mutamur in illis."

Eater of Gods, this creature will be
The tortured, tolerator of pain
All his dreams gone, dead in vain
Yet breathing, to take your breath away
Not to avenge, but to clear
All the fake that is in us.
Lyrics to the song with the same title by Chaos Descent, released in 2016
Written by Mahdi Monstrosity Dn
Matt Martin-Hall Oct 2020
Huddled grazing at the feet of drunken Gods,
imbibed by crimson blasphemes and the lust of lies.
Smeared unto the grasses- a darkened hue.
onward weighs the pleasantry that binds.

The tight flog of a screamless whip.
Chaotic lore into peasant skin it rends.
A stench rising from cadavers - a carrion feast.
As a Ravens coups spur the ilk of ill portents.

Ominous lures of the slivered silver moon-
echo flashes upon sable black feathers.
Speaking in glints against rising wings agape,
the unraveled conscience of a God unfettered.

To the slaughter willfully go the droves
of cancered thought and blinded eye.
From whose spoil will feed the starv'ed flock
whose flagellation still yield no cries.

A Gods stature at which fullest they stand
is only dwarfed by the encroaching universe, avast-
whose very stars are the moon bound Ravens sprawl
pocking the scape against which the ****** dispatched.

Cyclical onslaught of the sacrifices come-
Inescapable fate beats the drum.

And so eclipse the ravens - o’er the moon!
their ****** return to the banquet strewn.
A modified sonnet much more akin to my Gothic and Victorian proclivities. Also, who doesn't love a band of maddened/drunken Gods and the slaughter?
Kurt Philip Behm Oct 2016
I hate the ‘Body
Politic’

Whose wave blasphemes
and grows

I battle to swim against
its tide

Or be abandoned in the
flow

I hate the way it stunts
my voice

‘Old Dominions’ chosen
side

I hate the fact—it’s hate
I feel

With the truth a captive
lie

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016,
  Inspired By Neal Hall)
Sofia Aug 2010
I am happy I am happy I am happy
but I cannot love myself.

At least I have not learned how to yet.

Oh how the idle words fly from my mouth like poison darts. They shoot and drown the nearest heart that means the most to me.

I am sorry I am sorry I am sorry.

To take them back would be an art that needs a lifetime of honing.

Even then.. oh even then…

I am a twice multiplied soul. I can act, I sing and sway the outsiders to a mirage of the image of exactly who I want to be

and in here
oh in here…
I am a ****** thing.

The tongue is an untameable thing and I’m grasping at the reins, yet off we fly over the edge and into the abyss.
Condemn. Step lightly. Speak slightly. Don’t fight me. Who spake these blasphemes in your ear and into your heart?
He says, you are not who you are, you are something else. You know, you know so well. Come out. Don’t hide. You’re safe with Me… I would not trade you for anything.

My mind, it drowns me.
07/05/2010
Jenner Mekito Mar 2014
Sometimes I wonder if I am too critical.
Taking away the limelight,
casting a shadow over an idea,
or am I right about my opinion?

I read into things
I notice when things are off,
not by much,
but still know when its wrong.

I caught a certain movie this way.
Where things were wrong,
plain to see, for anyone who
knows their Bible.

Scriptural based problems, that are
either left out or completely changed.
Too much freedom in creativity when there are
four distinct accounts in the Bible.

Yet this one starts with the premise it is from John,
where numerous distortions are found.

But the biggest issue is never mentioned in the movie,
why does Jesus have to die?
The only viewpoint that is really shown is that Jesus "blasphemes God"
according to the Jews.

The issue arises when there is no
explanation why Jesus has to die.
What is the significant reason of Him dieing for us?
This is not mentioned,
neither is the Holy Spirit.

There are a lot of minor issues in the movie,
but to skip the purpose of why
Jesus came to earth is not shown.

Yes, He dies on the cross,
but it doesn't reflect His  
reason for doing so.

I hope this movie stirs talk
in finding the truth.
The meaning for why Jesus died for us.
That the minor details
that are either left out or added,
are noticed.

Making people open up the Bibles
to see it for themselves,
as it is written.

It allows people to learn more
about a story that they have heard
time and time again,
but learning something new.

Picking up on verses
they never interpreted before.

To learn and gain knowledge of the one Book
which should matter the most,
to truly understand and know the Son of God.

~The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge; fools despise wisdom and instruction. Proverbs 1: 7
Megan Sherman May 2017
The thing that ever hurts,
Beyond all compare,
That blasphemes against Heart,
Stokes - a little tear,

"Don't talk to me of Love,"
Thus slander - slay a babe,
To Love is Human, I do it well,
Could do it for an age,

It strikes me that you esteem me,
As less than Human now,
Because to Love is Human, I do it well,
But you'd rather the tallest tree to fell,

And condemn me straight to hell,
The righteous mind appalled
You can't be half as passionate,
As rumbunctious and wild,

As you are half-pretending,
If you **** the sparks of Love,
You took aim, intent to maim,
A gift from God of turtle dove.
Esridersi Dec 2019
There's so little to say for
what lies in front of you
I tip your glass eyes for pride to pour,
there is so little. to say for
tomorrows sake does grace and beauty radiate your pores
blasphemes the christ who dwells inside you -
theres so little to say; for
what lies in front of you?
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2018
sickly in overtures,
and commitment
to hollow compliments:

gives birth to
a rotten fruit,
at its core,

and an unwelcome
stereotype of
unforgiving critique
lost to what could
be a house on firm root,
toward quicksand
stepped,
   and made of the two Adams...
Bryan before Ryan...

      a consistency of compliments
are a hideous half mask
of womeno of a gorgon,
before his death she blasphemes
his presence...
    and all I can envision of her,
is the year,  a dead-lit room
with barely a candelight to
keep company,
a runaway son before a television,
and a daughter with a Pharaoh complex...

i and Joseph could,
     take to Icarus and Menelaus...
hyenas of the graveyard...
    itchy from shadows,
and halving the sun in a guillotine
drool, over a crimson skid of a river,
into a Barkley Wicker-Bucket:
roulette of pork choppers
    with the pupils sly into
     a dominant coordinate
            to relate to.
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2019
I hate the ‘Body
Politic’

Whose wave blasphemes
and grows

I battle to swim against
its tide

Or be abandoned in its
flow

I hate the way it stunts
my voice

‘Old Dominions’ chosen
side

I hate the fact—it’s hate
I feel

With the truth a captive
lie

(Villanova Pennsylvania: October, 2016)
Inspired By My Friend & Poet Neal Hall
I dug my own grave
Got blood stains on my shirt and wounds on my face
But I got my way out alive
I wanna run away but
I can't help it, I need to be saved

I plead for revenge
Justice is what I seek
Insanity is what displeases me
No wonder why this became a degree burn

This is heaven compared to where I came from
No you're wrong, I'll prove you wrong
This is hell compared to what you did to me

No matter how many perfumes you spray
Your inner self still stinks as it speaks for itself to expose you
Hypocrite and insolent *****! When will you ever learn?
You carry your own cross and blasphemes everyone

What you show is not really who you are, I think
Your kiss is a bittersweet lie
when you called me I remembered your voice
it was thrilling to **** but nah
it was such a waste of time to pull the trigger

I wasted a lot of good bread
traded for unforgettable memories
wasted a lot of tears for a sobered beer

Transitioned from Chao Praya River bridge to London bridge after many years
I left without saying goodbye
I had you chased me like I'm a predator

Found comfort in an abandoned place
Useless for a mansion and well-lit place
Locking in the eyes of my enemy
I'd **** for that when the right time comes

Turned the yard into an office
Planted a tree to hide thy schemes
You meet me now eye-to-eye
I am that same woman born twice

Black and red can end well
For a smoke on the rain
Dead bodies are underneath, 6 feet below the ground
Which happens to be a good fertilizer for trees

You already know I am not on to run trouble
Feisty ***** seems to be the one to talk
Face to face we meet, I ain't fazed, you are

I live with what I have
You use other people to gain what you want to have

I wasted a lot of years for a good time
Ceased to be shackled by thy embrace
Witness is a statue stuck in your office
Wanting for a good time
Snuck in when others are asleep
Anti-depressants comforts me
For it is the only way for me to die for
But that green gown of yours suits you best
Well it **** defines you for having a snake as its design

Poisons swims now within the mainstream of your blood
***** blood now feels like a deja vu
Look what you did to me reflecting now based on what you see

Shattered glasses in expired red wine
Burn thy identity and bury the past
Tactics of ****** is underrated
Which makes my nerves irated
A poem of warning
I


What constitutes the "person": a severity
from the definition of humanity

The "person" must remain enclosed
And smother the desire to expose
To keep still, each wish undisclosed
All notions the civilized must impose

Of binocular vision and paired nares 
A certain mandible, no fangs to bare
Of discerned skin, from here to there
A certain mind and views to wear

Is it one's process of cerebration
If not one's bearing and sensation
That facilitates the honored acquisition
Of the perceived appropriate equation?




II


What constitutes the "other": a barbarity
from the definition of sensibility

The "other" must carve out the flaws 
Mold the vessel into the customary laws
Become a sentence and not mere clause
And sever all of which deformity cause

Of numbered limbs and encumbered bones
A certain expression, unfamiliar tones
Of unknown varieties, peculiar diction
A certain posture and plundered depiction

Is it one's favored choice of sustenance
If not one's glaring intent and dissonance
That blasphemes the outnumbered cluster
Of their perspectives derived lackluster?

— The End —