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Stone Fox Jul 2015
You linger in the form of bruises..
Marking a roadmap on my body of all your favorite places.
A constant reminder of the fire I wish I could deny but always give into.
Sentencing me to a death made for insects: as I become the moth drawn to your flame. Your heat is like the sun as it warms me slowly scorching my fair skin, and just like summer, I can not stay out your rays. So I'm then left with what I think is a warm heated glow that we both know is your brilliant burn.  Making all movements a reminder of you. But each reminder builds to my twisted hunger and slowly turns into cravings, cravings then become consuming and insatiable.
How did I suddenly become yours? And when did I stop being my own? I'm usually not one who give into pleasures of the flesh.. Or punishments for that matter.
Even when you hurt me I dont want it to stop, I want more.
Whats worse is you know this but that is never enough for you.
You, the almighty mind reader,  already know I want more-but no you have to hear me actually say it. Resistance is futile as we both know you will torture it out of me.  
Its one of the most crippling things you could ever make me do: beg you for more. which of course I always comply. .
I can no longer recognize myself, instead I recognize your fingerprints.
Imprinted on me for all to see, claiming me.
A constant mark announcing me as yours. Making claimed territory in this brave new world, commindeering my voice and muting me..
You are a creature I have never seen before, showing me what it means to be conquered.
H Apr 2012
He came.
He saw.
He conqured.

And my feelings betrayed my gut.

My heart betrayed my mind.
And my common sense locked its shutters shut.

My warning center closed up business.
Hung up a sign that said "Out of luck".

My stop go stystem simply said "go"
Like an accelorator was stuck.

And the result of such betrayals?

My heart is now muck.
gray rain May 2016
A hierarchy
of hot
or not.
Equality
evolving
or destroying
traditional
beliefs,
a relief
that they're fading.
We're not finisted
there's a long way to go
this mountain of know-
ledge and acceptance
is yet to be conqured.
But we're all climbing,
some still dying.
Falling.
Along the way
because they can't say
that equality
is needed over
hierarchy
and monarchy
in society.
The Crow suddenly turned its head ,
Flapped its wings ,
and I followed it to the heavens .
Where like a traveller in time ,
Gases  ,
Gravity , and
Time ,
Eight billion degrees of energy , time and space .
Trillions of years amassed .
The great I Am
hangs his baubles in the heavens ,
His tinsel in the sky's .
His most dazzling  star ,
Perched on top of his Christmas tree .
His cherry on his cake ,
Above oh little , insignificant ,
Back street town of Bethlehem .
There will be no Palace for this Prince of peace ,
this once fetus ,
perfect d n a. ,
Gods new Adam ,
Who once touched the tree .
This new life ,
God ,
The great I Am .
Spewing child ,
Born in a slum ,
Cradle of the Universe ,
Worship him .

From the East they came ,
Gold for a King ,
Frankensense of milk white resin ,
and Myrrh oh sweet resin of death .

Greccio 1223
St Francis of Assisi
Found detestable Greccio s. Fancy feasts and drunken ways .
This feast of Christ had become a farce .
With Manger Ox and *** ,
as midnight bell did sound ,
They gathered in the forest ,
and with Psalms of Joy did sing ,
With praise to their King .,
Who conqured
death
and assended on high ,
For whoever will believe on him shall never die .
With lanterns lit oh glorious sound ,
A babe was seen on this hallowed ground .

Oh dove at Christs baptism ,
Oh star above from where he layed ,
Oh holy night ,
Say to the towns of Judah
Here is your God .
R
Stephen Solomon Dec 2018
It is a season celebration
when our messiah was born,
he conqured death through ressurrection,
he fought the great battle to save mankind from the devil morn.


It christmas time,  
Lets the peace of God fill the earth,
let put behind the day sour as a lime,
And let the season be filled with love
The poem is about the celebration of our lord jesus christ who died for our sake so that we might not perish
Abhishaj Sajeev Sep 2015
Blood painted stripes on his shoulder,
His duty that weighs a boulder.
Patriotism flowing through his veins,
Yet his dignity studed with stains.

With bullet holes in his chest,
He carried the flag to the mountain's crest.
Inhaling courage and exhaling fear,
Fighting to prove wrong every smear.

Watching tombstones which were once a life,
On a blunt rock he sharpens his knife.
Pledging to make the enemy repay,
He confides his deeds to statues of clay.

Protector of freedom and warrior of the weak,
The vast warlands of his might they speak.
He stands atop the conqured dome,
He's a soldier who never came home.

— The End —