"brimstones" poems
The days are dark and clouded
Stars fear to shine and the moon is dreaded
The pain in our heart too heavy to make us cry
The prophesy joy is still far off to force out a smile
Miracles are now very scarce and expensive to buy
The truth is too bitter and too unhealthy to lie
My once good friend which is hope is ready to die
No peace in heaven, no life in hell
Then where exactly lie our help
Since I have no horse I will use my leg
My pain is nobody is feeling my pain
since is better to pray than fait
I won't try to drop out in the school of life by suicide again
I will stand on holy grounds to fight for a better life in faith.
They say the tail is for the slaves so I dare to become the head
No matter how deadly the journey seems I still believe in a rosy end
Since the kingdom will come here, here I will righteously pitch my tent.
Let them keep throwing brimstones
Let them keep feeding my hunger for meat with stones
I seek for honey but sour limes and bitter leaf water they seek to drunk me with
They should keep turning my once soft paths to thorns
But I know they can't eclipse my glory it will keep glowing
I'm like a palm fruit, no matter the harsh weather they might bring I will keep flourishing
I'm like age, no matter the obstacles they might set I will keep growing
For I'm a destiny child, destined to move from glory to glory.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 4:57 AM UTC
The brimstones golden hunger, and leaking thoughts, the creeping delver lingers, haunts. Swelling faith, like flame to moths, truth re echoes like the sting of wasps. Cloaked man, from another land, faultlessly faithful in dying truth. Unhappy sinner, begs for refuge. Stirring again his thin sole shoes.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
The memory of you comes in different shades of gray
Like the Caribbean Sea breeze that stylized your hair
Saturated stain on my pink satin sheets
That was the moment when we knew that
Those two souls could never be discreet
Uncertainties heavily laden on my heart,
It’s a strange and confusing time to depart
In you her DNA float like acid rain:
fogging your brain
years of turmoil and silent torment:
Here I am lamenting with you:
You recalled that day when your light turned blue
You said that it felt like love and hate moving toward the kiss of death
The moment of truth landed like a erupt volcano on your desk
A God-fearing man, a gentle soul
Years of searching for motherly love, so it was told
Only to find Low self-esteem and low-grade fatigue
Trust equal lust: led to a fraud for a wife.
You hide your sorrow in your smile,
Tainted love is nothing but a slow dying disease
Mother of your child, a son whom you once adore
They both put locks on the front door.
Then there is that woman from his past,
Oh, how she saves him from the edge of madness:
Court full of lawyers, a judge on the bench
Fire and brimstones, infinite punishment for finite sins
The sun might shine but the camera will not flash
Because of a daunted woman,
Whose feuds are too hot to defuse?
Oh, the mad woman of sea view
She made her bed, now she must lie on it
Brick stones are stronger that old boards
From now on the shower heads will turn cold, before the sun goes down
The mist off the ocean should stink like acid rain
Abomination on the lips of lying wife:
One day shall easily crack: when the
Truth shall reveal itself
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 12:04 PM UTC
O Lethe, take me to your abode.
My quill awaits your warm fingertips
O Lethe, flow me into your hands
Take me to your black, to find me, rest.
Ah… At last, my mind is in peace, not pieces
As my quivering lips press against your hand
As my throbbing head rests on your plush lap
As my heavy eyes shut from the aeons of weary
Your home of brimstones is my Paradise
But where is your face, Lethe?
My fingers ran through your streams of black
But where is your face, Lethe?
My lips pressed against your gloves of black
But where is your face, Lethe?
My eyes glared at your fiery pupils of black
But where is your face, Lethe?
Ah… where is your face, Lethe?
Even the waters can’t show me your face, Lethe.
Ah... where is your face, Lethe?
My bones felt your whispering… tender… voice.
But Heavens, where is my Lethe’s face?
Don’t veil your countenance, Lethe
I know, it is scarred and marred
I know. it is not… my Daphne’s
I know, it is not of million colours
But ‘Tis the brightest of all – Black...
Lethe, shew me your face, I implore you
Shew me your face gilded with strands of regalia
Before the agents of dawn sever me off you
Before the angels of the sun char off my joy
Heavens, let me be, in these waters of – Black...
Sep 17, 2020
Sep 17, 2020 at 7:49 AM 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
like byrd said
life's nothin' but a wind parade
tryna serenade
the streets of the ghetto
pack a pistol
everywhere i go i show
up ******** ready for war
true soldier made for the scold
once i sense fear
Ya know they gone fold bold
game is to be told not sold
groupies ******* get old
brothers hate when they see ya on a cash roll it written on scrolls
hands all.over me like im a celebrity
im feelin' hell death around the corner
soon to be a gonna
pictures of me and a closed caskets
those heartless ********
dont know i mastered
the game warcraft its a crime shame
ill be dead in the flesh and alive in spirit
coming back reincarnated
then my enemies get cremated
from.my fire and brimstones
enticin fright in the late night!
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 6:08 AM UTC
let me taste your hell
drown me in your intoxicating stupor;
breathe me in despite the blizzards and brimstones burning
till kingdom come
deseo que sea un pájaro.
<<Un día, mi amor.>>
despite steaming beef shoveled into sweaty faces at the crack of dawn
and mother mary imploring me with irises ancient and oily
as i move mechanically atop my mattress
stirring in the back room hut of the city -
curtains and clothes lines barely concealing a nation's fatigue --
i will live once more
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 11:48 PM UTC
I have noticed a lot of my poem's words, ideas, & titles,
Are being inserted, reused, & recycled In other people's poetry on this website.
Can't people form there own original ideas & plots?
Without re-wording other's to make it sound new?
Will I get one last supper?
Pass the bread.
A prayer before slumber.
Busy with bible study you read.
Walk on water?
Hailing brimstones...
Confessions to a father.
Spying ghomes.
Sacred wishes, granted.
Class dismissed go home.
Written lies slanted.
Evil curses & spells chanted.
Bad nurses banned from a paradise enchanted.
Blessed is he who is with me.
Bring me an angel.
Their name was cupid.
Love created what he did.
Goddess of love sent from above.
Granted me a solid connection.
With a united ressurrection.
Formed to perfection.
A true delight shining like a prism bright.
Deflecting sin, reflecting next of kin. Metallic rainbows will win.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 9:40 PM UTC
Mpayinfo) Akwaaba,
The melodies streaming and vibrating,
Are lyrics inked
By the rankled lightenings,
On the dark clouds,
And blown by the gods
From their retributive flutes,
Prompting the thunders to chorus,
The terrors,
Mpayinfo)
The legs of time is stout,
And will stride wearing not,
For the coals and brimstones creeps,
And will be pernicious,
Even to your progenies,
Mpayinfo)
For the language of the gods,
I speak not,
But their deep seated pique
And bruises,
I tell and forewarn,
Mpayinfo),
Where is Okyeame and the Omanhene,
Where are they?
Why come without them?
I guess they know;their clandestines
Have fallen before the sights of the gods,
Vultures that eats from the pots of the eagele;In his absence,
And smear faeces on the tips,
Traitors of traditions,
For the alien groceries
Have tucked their intelligence,
And left them groggy
Famished Dogs
Mpayinfo),
Why sit-tight and watch;
As aliens contrive a throne
Over our goods?
And defile our land
With their iniquituos schemes
Ubiquitously,
Mpayinfo)
The gods sing the blues,
And grieve day and night,
Their tadpoles have lorn them,
And clung to an alien deity,
For this I say and forewarn,
Like I told your fathers before,
If the witchweed is not uprooted with vehemence,
The creeping coals and brimstones,
Shall surely surmount entirely,
"A word to a wise";They say"it enough"
Now go,
Oracle
©Historian E.Lexano,
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
The heights' sprite lathering lights, wuthering
are quite beautiful this night...
New years' snow : glitter and streamers.
The Strip, a libidinous concrete highway
thick with the tar of dark secret deeds
manhicular silences seeping between the loud
sidewalks, rivers of crowds bleeding into buildings
monuments of fantasy-loss-reaping.
But the sprite lathering lights wuthering in the heights
are beautiful these coldest of nights
Artificial pulsing of Sierra's fiber-optic heart,
desert of dessert trays for hoarders gorging dust.
America turning cold emoji faces: high front gusts
un-empathy a mask for the races
like blank lakes of lack, like Paris
we're still running from them -- fastest of rats...
The city of lights lathering in wondering
is still a beautiful place at nights, wuthering
Yet sin city structures glamour machines by
lustful feeding hands that slight...
decay as quick as worship
like a slow freezing blight,
eyes kept blind in white
renaissance of our modern day *****
a loveless January night...
Hell is not hot fire & brimstones - it's winter,
souls fall aside if hearts die without
(stars of Orion's center)
I'm just another lion
raging against the splinter...
But the bright lights in the sky,
spritely gathering in the wuthering storms
are all so beautiful at night
on new years' eve, they pause the war...
while every child makes a dying wish
on star light star bright :
a home far from winter
for the king's love not to splinter...
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
We men thirst like the vile beasts in brimstones nest . For war, for battle we we siege, in love and justices gory we reign. Our ladies, our woman only smell at best the rage that pumps in our chest . The pain, never shall we forget. The loving scent that kingdoms kept . But blood we thirst in veins we shed, for battle and war is what we are bread .
Jun 21, 2021
Jun 21, 2021 at 12:47 PM UTC