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Alyssa Underwood Jul 2016
Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life?
Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you? 
Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable?

Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name?

Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself?
Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind?
Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things?
Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights?
Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself?
Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe?
Can it know you through and through and still desire you?

Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters?
Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened?

Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table
and spread its banner of love over you?
Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing?
Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself?
Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation? 
Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning?
Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes?
Can it turn your wailing into dancing?
Can it flood you with peace like a river?
Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions?
Can it know the way to lead you home?
Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold? 
Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free?

Can it ever truly be your Everything?
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VeKgfUGtcI0
Alyssa Underwood Nov 2015
Can it love you like God loves you, with a love that is better than life?
Can it connect you to eternal beauty? Can it save you? Can it redeem you?
Can it lift you out of the miry pit? Can it make you clean enough to finally feel acceptable?

Can it delight your soul to the core? Can it take your breath away with its faithfulness to you? Can it paint both sunrise and sunset across the sky to beckon your attention? Can it cause the breeze to blow and gently caress your cheeks? Can it send hummingbirds and wildflowers across your path to romance your heart? Can it parade before you the starry host and call them each by name?

Can it probe you to the depths and fill you with itself?
Can it rush to your aid riding on the wings of the wind?
Can it satisfy your hunger and thirst with bountiful things?
Can it give to you feet like a deer that you might dance upon the heights?
Can it arrange every detail of your life to draw you and drive you to itself?
Can it pursue you with all the resources of the universe?
Can it know you through and through and still desire you?

Can it raise you up and seat you in the heavenly realms and bless you with every spiritual blessing? Can it supply your every need out of its glorious riches? Can its grace be sufficient for you and its mercy help you in your greatest temptation? Can it pour overflowing comfort into you through all of your troubles? Can it reach down to draw you out of deep waters? Can it set you on an unshakable foundation? Can it bound across the mountains to come to your rescue? Can it make you lie down in green pastures and lead you beside still waters? Can it walk with you through the darkest wilderness and never leave you or forsake you? Can it carry you when you are weak or have fallen? Can it let you rest between its shoulders when you are weary or burdened?

Can it escort you to heaven’s banqueting table
and spread its banner of love over you?
Can it hide you in the shelter of its wing?
Can it be your daily portion and immerse you in the boundlessness of itself?
Can it clothe you in robes of righteousness and garments of salvation?
Can it give to you praise in exchange for mourning?
Can it bestow on you a crown of beauty for ashes?
Can it turn your wailing into dancing?
Can it flood you with peace like a river?
Can it fill your heart with joy in the worst of afflictions?
Can it know the way to lead you home?
Can it refine you in its fire and bring you forth as gold?
Can it capture you fully even as it sets you fully free?

Can it ever truly be your Everything?
~~~
Third Eye Candy Apr 2013
Gemini in seasonable  evening,
serenely swirling in Septemberous
ferris wheels
reeling in the vast domain
of lonesome leviathans
and witch-fires;
nowhere bound in the boundless fecundity
[ the feral joys of creation... ]
twins
meander in gravity's
well of souls,
swollen with unknowns and proteins;
golden rods in pointless foam
brewing the elixir vitae
in the Dippers cup. the Milky Way,
a wayward gush
from an ancient Mother Goddess,
plump and shameless, pumping teats
to nurse worlds
infused with divine rays of gamma and x...
why set dark apart
from firmament burning
spheres?

dragons
must clutch eggs in the void
as much
as fork tongue white dwarfs.
of course, the Source
unfolds
as  Love does. it's purpose,
in thrall of fearless veracity,
spinning yarns for glad garments
to clothe the naked dread
of such fearful symmetries
as roam the wild delights
of the infinite
meringue.

the Pi
on the window sill,
tempting the circular frame of reference
to square with the sublime Will.
another Fibonacci in your
bedpost,
to better hobnob with
broomsticks.
everything annihilates hatred.
from within,
we sojourn to sovereign super-continents
of opulent peace.
profound realities surge serpentine
with Meaning.
we are outdone on the inside by small minds
and farcical
hearts.

so at night
look up.

Love's Tongue Is
Love's
Word.
We'll sing of the sesh, our heads' song,
With cheering rousing bants,
As 'round a blazing joint we throng,
The starry heavens clothe us,
Impatient for thy coming line,
To shtall off tha morning's ****-light,
Hear our tchoons pulse thru the night,
We'll chant a sesh-head's song.

Sesh-heads are we
whose lives are pledged to sessioning,
People have come
to us from places all over,
Sworn to rave,
No more our ancient seshland
shall shelter the anti-craic of the state.
Tonight we house the gap of danger,
In session's cause, comedown or ****,
Bass cannon's roar as we dance,
We'll chant a session's song.
Sinne Fianna Seis,
atá faoi gheall ag Seisiún,
Daoine dár slua
thar ó áiteanna do ráinig chugainn,
Faoi mhóid bheith rave,
Seistír ár sinsear feasta
ní fhágfar faoin frith-chraic ar an stáit.
Anocht a teach sa bhearna baoil,
Le gean ar Seis, chun báis nó saoil,
Le balla de dord romhainn, agus muid ag damhsa,
Seo libh canaídh amhrán na tseisiún.
my ribs were pierced and the last 
vestige of life kept pouring out.
​and when the last word was said,
my body was lain among the mute.

I was a carpenter once, yet I will  
Soon be carved from wood
To sit in silence like furniture,
all dressed up and well kept
with expressions on my face: 

Of pain, of hope, of kindness.

But let us keep our eyes
on what cannot be seen.
What is visible is seldom what it shows.

A man I once knew kept with him a jar of seawater
He reasons that when he wakes up 
He is reminded by the vastness of the sea. 
And he embraces its fragrance: 

Salt and water.

Can not a jar claim a portion of the sea as his?
Or to put it in perspective is it not the sea that embraces us?
Our mouths and minds are still, left open and dull in silence
Waiting perhaps in solitary meditations 
or in many tongues we will talk.
and the crowd will call us drunk.

I and my other self are one. 
But soon, after I have gone another will take my place,
he will embrace us like the sea 
Even in places where no sea is in sight.
One thing is certain: salt. 
The tasteless air will ink new births of sea.

Today let us clothe ourselves in the nakedness 
of our adopted innocence. We will walk with the many 
and again converse in the greater garden.

- 5 September 2018
didactic,
karin naude Apr 2013
my fancy writing and good choice in words
are perfect in camouflage my deep devouring pain
if my soul could bleed it would be drained
oh how i miss my glory days
in youth i thought it will last
the only lasting thing i have is pain, questions and regret
i fear the end of the nightmare
who am i if not lonely and in pain
what awakens my muse and clothe my mistress
pain, regret and questions is all I've known for so long
me malformed
humanity wont take me back
all i know is exile
i dream of better, but then who will i be
Spenser Bennett Jun 2016
Sing to the future
Pray for the past
All wounds desiring sutures
Seldom last

Discord and harmony
Now dance entwined
With echoes of foreign leaves
Backless black dress bares no spine

Revel and rebel rouse
Clothe yourself
Cover those doubts
Dust layered pride wastes on the shelf

To hate do no acquiesce
If I am to be an ***
May I be the jackiest
But this too shall pass

On Earth there may be Heaven
But I'm only seeking Nirvana
I wish Vonnegut woulda wrote Slaughterhouse Seven
A sequel concerning the most enlightened Lama

Call me the animated corpse
Watercolor and colored pencil pallor
Washed out caffeinated ******
Drawn lips and cheeks painted all sour

Crème de la cream
Whipped froth to more than tooth sweet
Gobble up that American hayfever dream
Make me out to be the biggest diabete

This self defense
Of building fences
Won't ease teasing tensions

I'd stand up, tall and high,
for myself but I
I can't find my feet for a honeysuckle punch of sky
Caro Jul 2018
SOUL: Wrapping around me,
Holding me close,
Tapping itself and clothing my nose.
Keeping me in and tight.
My safety and my sensation.

Feeling sunshine and shame,
Goosebumps and bruises,
Keeping me intact.
It changes color and indicates.
Touching me,
completely.

The skin on my back my protectorate.
The skin on my hands my guide.
The skin on my face my years here.

It is with me to the end.
It grows and stretches and covers my vessel.
It flinches and heals and craves to be nestled.
It sweats and bleeds and cracks.
It wrinkles and sags.
And Baby, it’s you and it’s me.
But beautifully, painfully, tragically it is not.

Because once the skin has done all it can do.
Once it is thinner and can work for this Sinner no more.
Once it has lived and known me through and true.
Though I have lived and known it too.
It dies.

And I go on. To claim another skin.

A skin to clothe my nose.
A skin to protect my soul.
A vehicle to let me travel on this earth I think I know.

Poor skin. Naive and Perfect.

SKIN: Poor soul.
Going on forever ever,
and never ending,
never resting,
always needing me.
Caio Consoli Mar 2018
She is Dark
Just like Night
Left a Mark
In my Heart
~
She is Art
As a Dove
Took a Part
From Above
~
She is Love
With no Hate
It will Shove
In my Fate
~
She is Great
She’s not Flawed
Through the Gate
I will Laud
~
Is she God?
That's not Fair
I'm not Odd
There's a Flare!

~

With Black Hair
I shall Loath
She won't Care
If i Growth
~
With Black Clothe
Guess who'll Lose
I'll Quoth
''Red and Blues''
~
With Black Shoes
She's my Goal
Her I Choose
For my Poll
~
With Black Soul
She'll get Crazy
In a Whole
Gets me Flimsy
~
When I'm Drowsy
We'll Freakout
And in Frenzy
Gives me Blackout.
My lover
Phil Riles Feb 2016
My spirit wants to do right, but the flesh is unwilling to comply. That's why it must die. Daily. Crucified. All the affections and lusts, crushed with the weight of his Spirit hear to comfort mine own until this mind disownes every thought that exalts itself against the one on the Throne. Adonai, El Shaddai, Elohim, thou most High, Prince of peace, never cease, to amaze, the Blood connected to the earth and awoke men out of graves/I refuse to be sinfully enslaved, hiding in dens and cavs like the ones his goodness tried to save...I understand you Paul, you did what you didn't want to and didn't do what you should have did, yet the Master forgives. I wanna live burden free, no hurt in me, I don't want to subconsciously hold on to the flair of dramatics, rejecting a life lived peacefully while repetitious requests prayed vainfully asking God to take the pain away yet rejecting his orders so the pain can stay. In a twisted way, some people depend on there own misery, no matter how much they complain about it. Because its either what they know best or all they know, and familiarity can be a mental, emotional and spiritual ******* that most...can't let go...well Lord im willing. I'm willing to let go of the past that you already have a long time ago. I'm willing to see myself through your eyes. I'm willing to allow you to turn this anger into joy, this easy irritability into long suffering, this pride into honor, false humility into the one we clothe in..im willing to allow all the pain the sting of rejection gave me over the years, to place shamelessly in your healing hands, im willing to give you the violin, that I've used to play the songs for every pity party thrown within, Upon personal request, while partly oblivious, to the world around me is dying in sin. Lord, continue to help me locate the man I was always suppose to be. Reveal him to me. Describe him to me. Develop me into him. He's been waiting for my embrace for too long. And I'm ready..to put away Childish things..
Daniel Ruiz Sep 2018
if you sit in my room,
and with a good angle look outside,
you'll see a plantain tree,

in the house behind that plantain tree,
lives a little kid who called me an *******
for throwing his ball back a little too hard,

behind that plantain tree,
lives a kid who has got in
a lot of fights,

a kid that has a great scar that no one can see,
that no fight or bad words can fulfill.

well,
let me rephrase that,

behind that plantain tree,
lives a 70 year old woman,
who's daughter died,
and had to raise a kid on her own.

a plantain stain it's not removable,
a plantain stain,
stays in ones clothe, and skin.

the same way tendons break,
and leaves scars on ones heart.

that plantain tree hasn't given any plantains,

but it does work for a great metaphor.
K Balachandran Jul 2018
Fervorous rain did
Clothe land with thick water sheets;
Clinging and stifling.
Nassif Younes Mar 2016
We hear your voice so dumb,
We see your face so numb,
We feel the aura seize its place - so very, very dumb.
You’re the last to see or hear
And often never do,
There’s only one that matters here
And of course, that one is you.
And even the herd can’t bear to hear
That narcissistic moo,
You won’t know who you are
But this song is all for you.
And who the hell do you think you are?
Or do you even think at all?
When you went too far
With a pimped out car
Did you even think at all?
When you talk with crumpled hands,
When you clothe in rip-off brands,
When you mumble dull demands
And follow screen commands
Of what it means to be a man –
Do you even think at all?
When you’re banging like a broken drum
And sticking up your thumb,
Do you even think at all?
Because you’re looking kind of dumb
Dum,
Dum,
Da-dum.
Dum,
Da,
Da-dum.

And you say it’s all for fun,
You do it all for fun –
Robbing houses, shooting guns,
You do it all for fun –
There’s **** and ***
And kicking ***,
There’s groping ***
And hauling ***,
There’s “let’s get ******” and recognise the pun!
You rap for guns and bling
You rock for getting laid,
You’re stocking phrases set to sing
For ******* and for babes;
You get it all the time -
Or so you tell us all the time -
With that slack-jawed, open hole
And droopy doggy eyes,
You tell us “any hole’s a goal”
As your tongue ***** to the side;
You dribble like the rain drops,
You dribble and it never stops,
It never stops,
It never stops;
Our eyes have rolled,
It’s getting old
And the hole that your vocabulary holds
Will load again with what it had before
It’s awfully sore,
And such a bore –
“History’s just a bunch of stuff that’s happened all before” –
And did we say it’s such a bore?
That pull-string doll you sadly have become;
You can tell us that you’re merry
But you look so very dumb,
Dum,
Dum,
Da-dum.
Dum,
Da,
Da-dum.

And we think you’re finally done,
When out again you come
With one that’s even more extremely dumb, so very dumb.
We’re struggling to believe
The stupid **** you say,
But still you’re talking without cease
With nothing much to say.
And you say it, like,
You know, well, like,
You know, like, what I mean?
So we nod and say “ah-hum”,
And then when you are done,
We try our best to clean
Our heads of words so ******* dumb.
You precede a racist comment
With an “I’m not racist, but…”
And it seems you’re quite content
With your swagger and your strut;
Saying ‘lol’ instead of laughing,
Looking out for ladies flashing
In your suit, so silky smashing,
Dressed to ****
And set to fill
Your tank with fish, there’s plenty in the sea,
And we know you’re always keen
Between your wobbly fights against
Those people that you meet
To practice ‘self defence’
On strangers standing in the street;
There’s a “come on buddy, what you got?”
And “what’s he got that I don’t got?”
To keep your girl at home;
You grilled her, checked her phone and fought
But when you left her on her own?
I guess she found there’s more to find
In minds a bit less dumb.
You can kick the odd behind
And call the beggars ****
But even they would fail to find,
Amongst the bums,
Someone so miraculously dumb.
With a brain of dripping jelly
Little larger than a berry
You were bound to go so young,
I read your small obituary
And your death was oh so very, very dumb,
Dum,
Dum,
Da-dum.
Dum,
Da,
Da-dum.
Da-death by dumb, dumb, dumb,
Da-dumb, so very dumb,
So very dumb, dumb, dumb.
Debbie Lydon Mar 8
Silhouette stranger's scattered lights,
In hand me down houses and council flat nights,
In not being known, a private delight,
But as a bird in it's cage, it's sad, out of sight.

The smell of disdain in the pouring rain,
Becoming ever more potent as it falls again.
The bitter-sweet pain of elusive strife,
I'm swiftly sketching a stagnant life.

Tomorrow's demands stretch out their hands,
Trenching my feet in these old sands.
Night's ink comes back to blot the Sun's ray,
Oh, you cruel architect of my new day.

Attire of lowly and shy grey,
No longer will I clothe my body in your cliché.
Passion is still burning in my paralysed soul,
I need not your stability to make me whole.
ghivashel Jun 3
I was once your heart’s centerpiece,
petaled in alluring scarlet,
your very darling little starlet,
skin the color of ivory,
with lips like blooming roses,
my love for you evergreen,
encased in a body like a vase.

I braid flowers into my hair,
Spray the room with gardenia perfume,
Clothe myself in red silk,
I cinch my waist,
try to recreate myself,
Try to become a bouquet.
in the body of a vase.

But you don’t care.
To all these things you’ve become immune.
And I wilt,
efforts gone to waste.
My sweet infidel,
you leave and isolate,
run away from me in all haste.

I’ve cut the heads of the roses.
Bended the stems until they were broken.
Shredded the petals until they were tatters.
Let myself bleed scarlet red,
pricked by your thorned bed.

The vase breaks and shatters.
from my upcoming book, "Echoes in an Empty Home." Out soon. © ghivashel.
Australia they say is filled
with all the things that get you killed-
snakes and spiders, birds and bats;
venomous dogs, and dog-sized rats.
But who in counting could forget
Australia's infamous national pet-

which is, of course, the Shoe fly.
Like rocks with wings, or drops of dry;
like drones of death, the scouts of hell,
the souls of all the men who fell
to thirst along this twisted track,
or like some angry god's attack,

they swarm in shapeless, shifting form!
A black mass like a violent storm
is aiming for our ears and eyes!
Swatting is hopeless, but still one tries
to ****- just one! To no avail-
it's easier to **** a whale.

Locked in sweep, or swoop, or swirl,
they'll never sleep- just loop and whirl,
cry like a hammer who drives a Hummer,
then clothe me like four coats in summer.
Thus cause is clear why we now cuss
like Australians- the flies finally got us.
Cydney Something Nov 2018
Like blood in still water
You beautifully float through me
Red flowers blooming and fading

Irradiated, distant dreams
We won't really be harmed
Until we doff our gas masks

We'll dance on the corpses
Of our former selves
And be deemed wicked by all

But we weep at the graves
Of all our past lovers
For all the pain they have gifted us

I run naked through the woods
From your intoxication
Lashed by every branch and twig

Only to find you in a field
Waiting to wash my face and wounds
In a pond of your living waters

Dry my skin with your breathy sighs
Clothe me in your finest regard
Sing me to sleep with the smell of your incense

In the morning
We may just have to
Do it all again
It's a shame she has to undress
intricate details of her silhouette
instead of layers covering thoughts
to see beyond what to the eye is naked

Essentially emotionally she is clothe
yet wrapped up in despair after giving
what intentions have actually wanted
instead of beauty hiding within a persona

It's the parts ears haven't even heard of
within frames hanging beside windows of
a pedestal ment only for viewing purposes
that is pure gold unlike what is commonly valued  

Attraction has surely got to be deeper
than the sensual appeal of her skin
Why is the intimacy that is shown limited
to merely being just physical satisfaction ?
Morgan Dec 2018
My currency is energy. My energy is love. I used to give freely to any and all deserving or not. Wasted no more! I covet my lot. See these things? These few things are special to me. THOSE things are not. Love turns to anger when flushed down a drain. When dumped in an alley like yesterday's coffee. My love does not flow like water from a spicket. "Nothing I do will ever make you turn it off!" No! Not true! None of this is free! Someone has to pay the bill. What value is my currency if given at zero cost? The cost is not expensive but an exchange like any other good. I don't mean to swap emotions. You don't have to love me back. Decency is all. Be decent. Not cruel or wasteful. Not all advantages have to be taken. Not all corners have to be cut. Brush the cobwebs off your soul and take down the for sale sign. Treat me fairly and I will love you. If you are cold I will clothe you. If you are hungry I will feed you... As it is human to love humans, but only if they act as such.
Lucas Jan 13
Big blooming zero---
all the available brides
in all the available positions,
running like trains across Douglas
where no tracks make connection

Touch
and trust
---the men receive spiritual help
through potted,
planted
Jesus Christ
union rescue missions

Is this Wichita?
an ode,
an opening in the same slit
of the same clothe
down the same seam
of the same stitch---not dogged,
cold eared with doctored mothers

Requirements foreign
among other things
here,
bare chested,
mostly in the wheat
---tell our fathers
we haven't made it---
on starship F.G.

Send the railyard
back along Douglas
--the high rent district
doesn't chug
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