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"covenant" poems
come if you're thirsty, come if you're stained come if you're weary, come if you're pained come to the water, the bread and the blood come to Christ's soul-saving covenant flood there's no one too ***** no one too poor no one too broken whose faith He'll ignore come if you hear Jesus calling your name come to be free of all guilt and all shame come if you're willing to cast out old strife come lay your burden and take up new life
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Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
dear wounded, worn and wanting
Iron bench, open sore dragon rock, three in score flesh on body, tortured soul arms high, in hell's hole Corner bulb, neon light drake hotel, second flight jolly pop, rizla plus open flame, behind the bus Broken fixtures, tully hat channel swimmer, at the bat blind alley, words of cuss dealer waving, in a fuss Grim reaper, boys in blue super bee, armored shrew ****** sips, swollen glands potpourri, on demand Black death, huddler's arch beat the cold, and summer parch toothless grin, ****** glare obituary, to be shared Dead of night, decontrol cheeva tar, black coal east central, chinatown mr. freeze, is coming down Foot soldier, skidder row chicken feed, and white blow silver spoon, casted hand demons surface, on demand Frantic sounds, below the glass poison waiting, to be passed crack pipes, over coat bodies flat, begin to float Gospel sounds, from union square friends gather, deep in prayer guardian angels, now deployed thornton park, without a void Covenant house, in holy charm welcomes all, with open arms salvation spreads, on chapel row kindness that, cannot be sold
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Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
Pidgeon Park
I am Christian. I believe in the Trinity of the Holy God, The Son, and The Spirit, I believe that Jesus is the Son of God and the savior of mankind I own more than three Bibles I teach Sunday School every week and I pray every night. I am Christian, And as such I Hate queer.... Phobia. I can not stand intolerance And I cry at hatred, Blood running in the streets, Fear running in veins, Running away from the truth. I am Christian, yet There are bloodstains in my Bible And the prayers on my lips Are for forgiveness for who I am. The entire story of ***** is Crossed out, blacked out angrily In the dead of night In all 4 versions, Leviticus is blurred, Wrinkled with my tears, Soaked with my pain. I am Christian And I am not homophobic. I know my church won't recognize Non cis-het marriages, Leaving entire worlds of rainbows in the dark The higher-ups insist Weddings are white, shiny, husband-and-wife, happily-ever-after affairs That shove me and my friends, my family, my lovers, Into closets of heavenly wrath and Fire and brimstone sermons, Locked into personal hells of shame And confusion. I am Christian And I am not straight. My God doesn't hate me for who I love, He loves me because I try not to hate. So to the homophobic Christians, I ask: Who is your God? Who is your God that supposedly condemns people He has created in his own image? Your rainbow picket signs are nothing but a cruel mockery of a covenant Not truly shared by you. Your tongues are no better than the viper's who called Adam and Eve to sin, You are the vipers of my world. Do you think you avoid judgement When trans teens are killed By the bullets you spit with your words? Who is your God, That tells you to picket the funerals Of those you hate? Who is your God, That refuses to let you open your heart to differentness? I am Christian, And I don't need your permission to Love my God. Take my scars and tear-stained Bibles, Listen to my fervent prayers, Watch my lips tremble when I listen to my pastor. I don't need your permission To love who I want, In fact I don't want it. Take my midnight screaming and fear of coming out, Listen to my frantic pleading for a hand to hold, Watch my eyes linger on her chest. I am Christian. My God doesn't hate me for who I love, He hates you who refuse to love While you carry His name, if Not his blessing. So I ask again Who is your God? Because mine loves all of me, All 5'6" of queer pride. Who is your God?
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Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 12:05 AM UTC
Not A Stereotype
I am Christian. I believe in the Trinity of the Holy God, The Son, and The Spirit, I believe that Jesus is the Son of God and the savior of mankind I own more than three Bibles I teach Sunday School every week and I pray every night. I am Christian, And as such I Hate queer.... Phobia. I can not stand intolerance And I cry at hatred, Blood running in the streets, Fear running in veins, Running away from the truth. I am Christian, yet There are bloodstains in my Bible And the prayers on my lips Are for forgiveness for who I am. The entire story of ***** is Crossed out, blacked out angrily In the dead of night In all 4 versions, Leviticus is blurred, Wrinkled with my tears, Soaked with my pain. I am Christian And I am not homophobic. I know my church won't recognize Non cis-het marriages, Leaving entire worlds of rainbows in the dark The higher-ups insist Weddings are white, shiny, husband-and-wife, happily-ever-after affairs That shove me and my friends, my family, my lovers, Into closets of heavenly wrath and Fire and brimstone sermons, Locked into personal hells of shame And confusion. I am Christian And I am not straight. My God doesn't hate me for who I love, He loves me because I try not to hate. So to the homophobic Christians, I ask: Who is your God? Who is your God that supposedly condemns people He has created in his own image? Your rainbow picket signs are nothing but a cruel mockery of a covenant Not truly shared by you. Your tongues are no better than the viper's who called Adam and Eve to sin, You are the vipers of my world. Do you think you avoid judgement When trans teens are killed By the bullets you spit with your words? Who is your God, That tells you to picket the funerals Of those you hate? Who is your God, That refuses to let you open your heart to differentness? I am Christian, And I don't need your permission to Love my God. Take my scars and tear-stained Bibles, Listen to my fervent prayers, Watch my lips tremble when I listen to my pastor. I don't need your permission To love who I want, In fact I don't want it. Take my midnight screaming and fear of coming out, Listen to my frantic pleading for a hand to hold, Watch my eyes linger on her chest. I am Christian. My God doesn't hate me for who I love, He hates you who refuse to love While you carry His name, if Not his blessing. So I ask again Who is your God? Because mine loves all of me, All 5'6" of queer pride. Who is your God?
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79
#*“Come, all you who are thirsty,     come to the waters; and you who have no money,     come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk     without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread,     and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to Me, and eat what is good,     and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to Me;     listen, that you may live. I will make an everlasting covenant with you,     My faithful love promised to David...” Seek the LORD while He may be found;     call on Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake their ways     and the unrighteous their thoughts. Let them turn to the LORD, and He will have mercy on them,     and to our God, for He will freely pardon. “For My thoughts are not your thoughts,     neither are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth,     so are My ways higher than your ways     and My thoughts than your thoughts. As the rain and the snow     come down from heaven, and do not return to it     without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish,     so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is My word that goes out from My mouth:     It will not return to Me empty, but will accomplish what I desire     and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. You will go out in joy     and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills     will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field     will clap their hands. Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper,     and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the LORD’s renown,     for an everlasting sign,     that will endure forever.” ~ New International Version*#
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Jun 23, 2016
Jun 23, 2016 at 12:43 PM UTC
Isaiah 55
#*“Come, all you who are thirsty,     come to the waters; and you who have no money,     come, buy and eat! Come, buy wine and milk     without money and without cost. Why spend money on what is not bread,     and your labor on what does not satisfy? Listen, listen to Me, and eat what is good,     and your soul will delight in the richest of fare. Give ear and come to Me;     listen, that you may live. I will make an everlasting covenant with you,     My faithful love promised to David...” Seek the LORD while He may be found;     call on Him while He is near. Let the wicked forsake their ways     and the unrighteous their thoughts. Let them turn to the LORD, and He will have mercy on them,     and to our God, for He will freely pardon. “For My thoughts are not your thoughts,     neither are your ways My ways,” declares the LORD. “As the heavens are higher than the earth,     so are My ways higher than your ways     and My thoughts than your thoughts. As the rain and the snow     come down from heaven, and do not return to it     without watering the earth and making it bud and flourish,     so that it yields seed for the sower and bread for the eater, so is My word that goes out from My mouth:     It will not return to Me empty, but will accomplish what I desire     and achieve the purpose for which I sent it. You will go out in joy     and be led forth in peace; the mountains and hills     will burst into song before you, and all the trees of the field     will clap their hands. Instead of the thornbush will grow the juniper,     and instead of briers the myrtle will grow. This will be for the LORD’s renown,     for an everlasting sign,     that will endure forever.” ~ New International Version*#
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48
Lord, I need some devine redemption Because I move like a heathen through the night Depart some solemn words of wisdom Deliver your blessed sacred rite My god your wrath is so sweet I am consumed by it's salvation Let me offer myself to you And save myself from your damnation My wickedness will have me burned I make a covenant to you from this day forth Enter me and make me clean Fill me with your righteous seed Command me down on my knees I'm praying with my mouth to please I offer myself as your possession To use whenever at your discretion
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Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 5:55 PM UTC
Devine Redemption
Are you fleeing from Love because of a single humiliation? What do you know of Love except the name? Love has a hundred forms of pride and disdain, and is gained by a hundred means of persuasion. Since Love is loyal, it purchases one who is loyal: it has no interest in a disloyal companion. The human being resembles a tree; its root is a covenant with God: that root must be cherished with all one's might. A weak covenant is a rotten root, without grace or fruit. Though the boughs and leaves of the date palm are green, greenness brings no benefit if the root is corrupt. If a branch is without green leaves, yet has a good root, a hundred leaves will put forth their hands in the end.
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8.2k
Love
Un-Thrifting Essence, what of Loneliness Allows the Hill across to bend and weep? Who is to blame? Are you the Sorceress Drawn to cast an Un-Witting Spell so deep? These are all but Questions; If I may add Failed on Writ, yet convenient to Subject Here is the Adjective I thought I had But the Spell did lie thus made to reject My Immortal Covenant: To Keep you, Dearest Talent; A Servant's Dud I make Within a shadow shines a Brighter Hue, A Promise I no longer will Forsake: Though in Essence always revealed un-been I am that Shadow never revealed un-seen.
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Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
SONNET TRIBUTE: TONIA COUCH
Dear ancestors hear my voice On this Samhain eve I have a Message for you Be sure I have found my love A love that releases me The version of me you may not know The one that I have became It is true that this love has grown Grown into a perfect and lasting covenant Love that is rare and true She is the embodiment of me in a Special and all seeing person She has given me sight to see the world in its glory The Vision of which I have never known She has given me heart to carry on when all seems lost Courage to face each day The tenacity to make the most of my life and of hers The soul that we share is complete in the extreme It is extreme as it is perfect and as one She gives me more than this more than I could ever Ever ever say. I found her just six years ago She came to me in a rush of circumstance Something unexpected and yet hoped for I can say much of this but all I need to say Is that I love her so dearly it hurts It hurts because life itself is so fragile. I hold this love in my hand and cherish it Cherish this day as we walk together into our Seventh year through the mist and veil Of Samhain, oh Samhain, This is our time Max Hale Dedicted to my Jan on the anniversary of our meeting six years ago.
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Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 12:57 PM UTC
Samhain love
upon marriage your blood signs a covenant with a firm i do before god and the community upon my 1st breath a covenant was signed you want praise for a physical abuse free home how dare you marriage described as playing with the mouse your plaything taken by god he gave you, he took away you didn't keep your covenant you broke and destroyed a young woman she died in a gilded Gage no-one knows the truth, you think i was there i saw, i remember, small but present emotional abuse rang the bell i begged for divorce from you many a time you married "your" mother, she married" her" father, one contract different expectations a broken covenant children are a gift from god, my sisters both died, i lived i was/am nothing in your eyes the covenant
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Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 3:49 AM UTC
a firm "i do"
Know this—I am well acquainted with the wolf, Well versed in his ways, his demeanor, His dispassionate relentlessness, His pitiless focus on hunt and hunted, His workaday disdain of pity. There are those who would laud the mythical Spartan lad Who hid the wolf beneath his cloak, Affecting some gallant stoicism As the beast consumed him without restraint, But I say to you that is a mere romantic fallacy, A wanton failure to apprehend the true moral. I have learned that there is no accommodation, No covenant to be reached with the wolf, And any attempt to do so is merely to invite destruction, And so I choose to engage him openly, without reservation, Rolling tail-over-teacup in the streets, Attempting to hold his jaws open with bare hands While those who find such battle unseemly and uncouth Jeer and hoot from porch and portico. No matter, for I will continue to meet the cur on my terms, For staid suffering in the hopes Of reaching some accord with the beast Is the not the act of the noble sage: It is the mock heroics of the coward, The sad acquiescence of the simpering fool.
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Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 2:02 PM UTC
A Variation On Edgar Lee Masters' "Dorcas Gustine"
my tainted love affair a blood covenant continues negative on the balance sheets a constant power struggle my soul and unwavering obedience the prize secretly a grudge grows (encouraged by continual love famine inclined by love withdrawal punishment) poisoning the source uncomprehensible to me why i am always found unworthy fathers love, blessing and protection unattainable withdrawal, nonacceptance and deliberate bad wishes fertilizes the acre what will the harvest be tug of war for my sanity my Heavenly Father and mum vs the enemy and dad forge in this firepit born among ashes
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Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
dad and i
Passover Moon's ****** hue eclipses the ordinary in veils of miraculousness obscure rouge halos illume elliptical arcs guiding footsteps in a righteous exodus across troubling waters forsaking hovels with painted doorjambs dripping lambs blood Mezuzahs bleat memories holy murmurs bespeaking lamentations of ancient hosannas our desperate supplications flesh out a distressed humanity seeking deliverance from the vengeance is mine Elohim may it be nigh we wait watching for an always faithful Good Deliverer to honor the covenant to lift despair with a liberating yoke lugging leaden burdens Oh Holy of Holies banished in the wisp of a bitter herb our distended bellies fill with unleavened grace sweet droplets of manna consumed with extreme gratitude arriving at journeys end to promised lands fully satiated and free to rest in sanctuaries of radical hospitality luxuriating in an infinite abundance for all sojourners Selah Music Selection: Big Mama Thornton Go Down Moses Oakland 4/15/14 jbm
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Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
Blood Moon
Today's a new. Took a breath, stepped  outside and Ponder upon Paradise Avenue. Most haven’t a clue. Stuck between a hard place and a rock bonded by that encrypted glue. So don’t be rude. Look the other way While I pursue. Get in the way and even you’ll be tighten, fastened and ******* Intrigue or intrude? Acting with passion taking my life wealth of metaphorical food. I'm not in the mood. I came to conclude. The knowledge hidden will soon be removed. Over the covenant stove. Hypnotize lives will be brewed. Ether produced broth of truth I accrued. So in this life of Manipulating strife. Conflict of fundamental issues got me on strike. Take a hike, better yet ride a bike. My mind has been overlapping Triple stacking in the apparent. Trying to come up with my own Patton of satin. I will Manifest anything that’s internally speaking in a Ridicule fashion. I'm rapidly expanding and the abundance is over flowing. Is it me, is it you, is it us, was it he who walked above the sea? Yes best believe. Antiquity relics through Allegory marriage. Helps to see Beyond and above the perished. Come to believe and you will achieve. That’s the hidden recipe.
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Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
Today’s a new
He promises her he will be true to her forever. As they seal their covenant with golden bands. But he is only a man. Imperfect and fallible. Empty words and broken promises. He promises her he will be her friend forever. They will write and call and share life together. She thinks he will always care about her. But he is only a man. Imperfect and fallible. Empty words and broken promises. He promises her that His love for her is Eternal and Unchanging. That she is forgiven, and His precious gem. He promises He will never leave or forsake her. For she is His child, and He is her Father. He is God. Perfect and Loving. Who keeps His Word and fulfills His Promises.
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May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 1:12 AM UTC
Empty Words and Broken Promises
The old order changeth, yielding place to new -Tennyson, Idylls of the King Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp In spasms of existential death; they pass At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there If you vote they give you a sticker The ephemeral Constitution changed Like sweaty skivvies by each president Law libraries catalogued for pulp By obedient functionaries in tees If you vote they give you a sticker The faithful escorted out of the cathedral By a bored security guard on overtime The altar linens for sale at Goodwill And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V. If you vote they give you a sticker Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds And the others cheer only for the Blues As the reincarnation of Jack Chick Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps If you vote they give you a sticker Election placards on abandoned buildings Promise again prosperity for all The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz Private Academy of the Dance and Math If you vote they give you a sticker An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather If you vote they give you a sticker And blessed be the Holy AR-15 God gave to His People to defend themselves Here in the freest country in the world Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence If you vote they give you a sticker While fleets of luxury presidential jets Arc high over our public housing projects Reminding us of our prosperity Here in the richest country in the world If you vote they give you a sticker And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right But them other Jews they just ain’t no good Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither And don’t you get me started on them Baptists (We seem to have been otherwise engaged) “The old order changeth, yielding place to new” – (But neither cares at all for me or you) But if you vote they give you a sticker
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Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 7:30 AM UTC
Election Day: Executive Inaction with Moderate Prejudice in Fits of Absent-Mindedness
The old order changeth, yielding place to new -Tennyson, Idylls of the King Like dinosaurs our institutions gasp In spasms of existential death; they pass At first unnoticed by the casual unobserver Who trips over a covenant that isn’t there If you vote they give you a sticker The ephemeral Constitution changed Like sweaty skivvies by each president Law libraries catalogued for pulp By obedient functionaries in tees If you vote they give you a sticker The faithful escorted out of the cathedral By a bored security guard on overtime The altar linens for sale at Goodwill And the sanctuary repurposed on T.V. If you vote they give you a sticker Some of The Just Plain Folks cheer for the Reds And the others cheer only for the Blues As the reincarnation of Jack Chick Blesses their four-wheelers and plastic caps If you vote they give you a sticker Election placards on abandoned buildings Promise again prosperity for all The **** lab cooks behind The Kute Kidz Private Academy of the Dance and Math If you vote they give you a sticker An outreach of the Bright Light Free Will Missionary Temple of the Lord Jesus Christ Of the Lamb Sanctified 501C The Reverend Doctor Master Bishop Billy-Bob Hairdo PhD, DD a-brangin’ Messages and His Esteemed Lady Apostle Heather If you vote they give you a sticker And blessed be the Holy AR-15 God gave to His People to defend themselves Here in the freest country in the world Which you can find behind the barbed-wire fence If you vote they give you a sticker While fleets of luxury presidential jets Arc high over our public housing projects Reminding us of our prosperity Here in the richest country in the world If you vote they give you a sticker And them Jews for Jesus I guess they’re all right But them other Jews they just ain’t no good Nor them Cath’lics nor them Mormons neither And don’t you get me started on them Baptists (We seem to have been otherwise engaged) “The old order changeth, yielding place to new” – (But neither cares at all for me or you) But if you vote they give you a sticker
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Blood is thicker than water. I'm nine years old and my mother had sighed us both up for a dieting course. At eighteen I still see how interchangeable fatness and ugliness are to her. I still have to stop myself from thinking of skipping meals after I ate "too much". Clinging to the fear of the slippery slope that serves as my only guard. I see it in my friends too, comforted by their opposition for what my mother had embraced like gospal for the helpless fools. Blood is thicker than water. I like the hairs on my body. The short and soft strands that cover my legs, blonde and black and all too natural. Removing them leaves my legs red and prick-prick- pickling for days but- My sister laughs through a wrinkled nose, My cousin tells stories, horrified, of women like me, Mother says it's unhygienic and would not let me leave the house like this. I haven't worn shorts in years. But my friends' confident 'fuck you' to everyone who isn't them, who dares control their bodies and shame them into pain or hiding, makes me feel like one day I might wear them again. Blood is thicker than water, I find it hard to talk to people. The thought of discussing anything more than trivial matters makes my lunges heavy in my chest. Talking to my parents- a heavy led filling what seem less and less like lungs with every passing second. Talking to my friends- the heaviness doesn't always go away, but the weight doesn't get harder to bear. I heard my mother tell a friend how her kids talk to her about everything. A bitter laugh never tasted so much as the sea. Blood is thicker than water, Since I can remember myself, I never wanted kids. Took me years so unveil why. The dismissal cut deep when Mother assumed she knew me better than I do, a cruel arrogance for what she must only consider her property. 'You'll change your mind and give me grandchildren' A payment for my life- "Interest" she calls it. Blood is thicker than water, When I came out to you, dear parents, you once again ignored me as if I hadn't tortured myself enough, as if it hadn't taken me years trying to accept myself before you turned your back on me with cruel dismissal. As if I don't still struggle. All I have left is to fall back on my friends' support again, being caught in their loving embrace without ever asking to. They say you can't choose your family but- the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
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May 28, 2020
May 28, 2020 at 2:29 PM UTC
Found Family
Blood is thicker than water. I'm nine years old and my mother had sighed us both up for a dieting course. At eighteen I still see how interchangeable fatness and ugliness are to her. I still have to stop myself from thinking of skipping meals after I ate "too much". Clinging to the fear of the slippery slope that serves as my only guard. I see it in my friends too, comforted by their opposition for what my mother had embraced like gospal for the helpless fools. Blood is thicker than water. I like the hairs on my body. The short and soft strands that cover my legs, blonde and black and all too natural. Removing them leaves my legs red and prick-prick- pickling for days but- My sister laughs through a wrinkled nose, My cousin tells stories, horrified, of women like me, Mother says it's unhygienic and would not let me leave the house like this. I haven't worn shorts in years. But my friends' confident 'fuck you' to everyone who isn't them, who dares control their bodies and shame them into pain or hiding, makes me feel like one day I might wear them again. Blood is thicker than water, I find it hard to talk to people. The thought of discussing anything more than trivial matters makes my lunges heavy in my chest. Talking to my parents- a heavy led filling what seem less and less like lungs with every passing second. Talking to my friends- the heaviness doesn't always go away, but the weight doesn't get harder to bear. I heard my mother tell a friend how her kids talk to her about everything. A bitter laugh never tasted so much as the sea. Blood is thicker than water, Since I can remember myself, I never wanted kids. Took me years so unveil why. The dismissal cut deep when Mother assumed she knew me better than I do, a cruel arrogance for what she must only consider her property. 'You'll change your mind and give me grandchildren' A payment for my life- "Interest" she calls it. Blood is thicker than water, When I came out to you, dear parents, you once again ignored me as if I hadn't tortured myself enough, as if it hadn't taken me years trying to accept myself before you turned your back on me with cruel dismissal. As if I don't still struggle. All I have left is to fall back on my friends' support again, being caught in their loving embrace without ever asking to. They say you can't choose your family but- the blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.
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42
Forced by covenant to conceal The wound you carry deep Too dangerous far to now reveal The secret you must keep The truth, it’s said, can set you free Whose truth, I ask my heart Some truth must hide, to shadow flee Or slay as a poisoned dart A truth which must be guarded well Though to be shouted loud it cries Must be restrained and forced to dwell Within a citadel of lies A soaring fort of alabaster walls Splendid turrets as disguise Conceals pits beneath its gilded halls Where love lies brutalized Though we ache for all the world to see To the heart, it matters naught Two souls are not united by decree Nor love with license bought So truth must wait and a prisoner remain In lonely cell, there to abide Believe dreams of freedom are not in vain That gates, one day, will open wide
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Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 7:42 PM UTC
Citadel
the covenant a precious reminder of gods enduring love never wavering always the same each generation constant and faithful written in in ancient language of the stars upheld by blood not black on white birth is the seal the contract cannot be void even in death responsibility , accountability follows a shadow watching, recording every mistake, every achievement humans cannot keep there word, god always keep punishment is sure only saved by repentance heavenly beings lost touch with the true source became earthly citizens
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Mar 4, 2013
Mar 4, 2013 at 9:07 AM UTC
the covenant
Love, unruliest hope, when fierce Diana went wild With savage discourse, the arrow-stroke of her tongue— While rage-hounds bay in wooded Gargaphie—aimed at Actaeon. Or old Baucis her god-giving bone fat of mind, Stewed the broth of covenant for Zeus to repay in kind. Then Parthenope, siren-stung in her whirlpool of sea vines, Her maiden-voice is a breath of sand for Naples to muse upon. The body of Helen still lies in ages-old smoke over our cities, We live in the timberframe of her bones of burned ships. Why can’t her death be an end to all skies?
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Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 8:22 PM UTC
Love Lost in Every Sky
Mine eyes, like clouds, were drizzling rain; And as they thus did entertain The gentle beams from Julia’s sight To mine eyes levell’d opposite, O thing admir’d! there did appear A curious rainbow smiling there; Which was the covenant that she No more would drown mine eyes or me.
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3.1k
The Rainbow, Or Curious Covenant
Covenant park central parallel, east-side west waiting on the print defender (and Lichaten queen) he appears randomly, and distorted with a broken smile shuffling down the Smithright trail with his Mac Tack and cinnamon shades (sun bags and thrift ware stacked neck high on a rusted rat-trap) An open end panel van crashes the curb as the long-board dodges the tail and kicks up some flare the plumb tree and Sunbeam double wide hold steady in the driver's fish eye as the warehouse carny and "tire-less" 510 shine brilliantly... in the dull, dripping scene
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Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear
Under his mighty authority, he sent forth a pair of spies Hidden by a harlot they now became Joshua’s eyes. Saving her and all that she has for what she hath done Later when they come to burn down the city Her and her family will be spared, there the only one. Assembling a band of seven priest’s in those strange lands He’s ordering them to encompass and circle the city While carrying the Ark of Covenant in their holy hands. Preparations now begin for a symphony of destruction it is for all the other inhabitants, due to all the corruption. Commanded until the appointed time to remain in silence After that, scream and shout loud with ragging violence. Marching with the trumpets at their side and on their hips It’s the seventh day, and now, they must make seven trips. The walls then came crumbling down, After they blew through those ram horns with their lips. Taking there treasures, the spoils of  war... They took it for the Lord's treasury, That is who they took it for. AMEN (SirCARSr. 11-25-13)
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Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 1:38 PM UTC
The Trumpets of Jericho
In the face of war Loudly our fears drum. The lioness ready for a feast I heard Lucifer is angry against God Battling to get Him to His kneels. Blood is reigning The blood sucker awaken In pieces the sky has fallen The moon now a commoner   And the sun a drunk wanderer. Where are the innocence The black cloud acquires, Vultures need the flesh of the angels Their bone the dogs also desire. The dragon has been unleashed to flood the world, This time, no one is right enough not to be wrong, Yes, No saints, No Noah, No ark to sail to a new world. Death our creditor, we the borrower The covenant can't be erased not even a word. See what we have done to ourselves fighting our creator See how we successfully drive ourselves to our destructions. If God finally conquer the Armageddon In the recreation of a new kingdom I will want to be the Adam without eve Dying to see what difference that will make indeed Because this world is such a complicated trip The returnees will hate to repeat.
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Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
This Time
Red is the colour of my blood Red is the colour of my heart Red is the colour of love. My love is the spirit of my heart My heart is the sanctuary of my soul My soul is the sacred chalice of my spirit. My heart is a bouquet of red roses Red roses, the ambrosia of my spirit My spirit is the immaculate dove The dove bearing the olive branch from above. My spirit descends in the feast of the Eucharist The Eucharist is the sacred sacrament of Christ Christ is the eternal spirit of the love of God For our sins, He bled and shed His innocent blood And by His blood we have been redeemed. The blood of His covenant The covenant of His new testament.. ~ By Orikinla Osinachi, Saturday November 8, 2014. © Orikinla Osinachi. 2014. All rights reserved. No part of this content can be duplicated or reproduced in any format of media and anywhere without the authorization and permission of the author and publisher.
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Jan 23, 2015
Jan 23, 2015 at 3:04 PM UTC
Red is the Color of Love
With our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent with blind zealotry they refuse to relent opposing our mergence so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent. As we share these moments and begin our physical ascent be aware that they will not capitulate in calling for our penance with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent. Remember this simple covenant in order to circumvent the condemnation of our actions as unforgivable flagrance so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent. In these sheets we have long forgotten the virgin's lament because the silent weeping is drowned out by our cadence with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent. By our mutual pleasure we have earned their unrelenting resent and we are endlessly castigated for our lack of temperance so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent. The cries of fanatics prove their opposition to be hellbent they would prefer that we endure the torment of abstinence with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
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Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
Temperance