"credo" poems
So tired yet so awake
I sit at the edge of an ellipsis
crimping the charred innards of my tattered soul
to make a masterpiece of gore
and internal war.
over the years of self loathing
I finally love myself
but getting ****** up feels ****** perfect
and watching this world unfold anew with each hit
or shot
rocks my mind
unkind but exemplary in it's own fortitude
to prevail my own veils
aside they're cast and fumbled with
as thick smiles seed
and the pace is set for the evening
I can't help but think that leaving
could do me good
but who backs out before the last shot?
who leaves before the deafening toll of midnight?
Cinderella's umbrella of security
and purity
is at jeopardy
and with great haste she wastes away the good looks
for late night *****
and nicotine
forgetting to clean
her closet of supreme validity on
the functioning teen
trying not to be mean,
but completely obscene in gestures
with the barbie's manufacturers groping for caspers
in the utopian disasters of the girl they forged
many decades back, but lost track
of the track that played that summer night
in the moonlight of immaculate humor and love
above all the oozing essence that manifested
now tested, for virtual ******
your cerebellum will tellem the positive
credo
that we all know is hooked on the days drift wood with
byzantine benzodiazapines to guide her haunted spirit
till
the cracks turn to crevasses and prehistoric protons mate with electrons
in the vat that is abrewing to plot the lies
watch the skies fade to grey as it may
be about time for the ecliptic rhymes to find
reconciliation
in the bladed grains of mortality and sigh
for being high in this lowered juncture
of subsisting future
buys you time to mull over such a daydream
as your last breath
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
so, with israel being re-established...
why do we, us,hit
europeans... even need to bother
establishing authority,
utilißing the new testament?
i quiete like the old testament
logic of:
oculus per oculus
(eye for an eye)...
because the saxon concept of
justice: i rather see...
the implosion of
blackstone's formulation...
the 10:1 imploding to the 1:10
ratio of...
a shawshank redemption...
there is... redemption...
since! there's no justice within
the post scriptum of
the hillsborough disaster...
watching people walk, the lunatic walk,
20 years later?
disorientated by the court
of justice?
re-dem-ption...
the whole aspect of: innocent until proven
guilty is horrid!
this... saxon vernacular of
that branch of philosophy that's
bogus...
namely... within origins
of the forbidden fruit...
i.e. and you know?!
really?!
no... but i'll **** to make
a standing pivot of a pawn
on a chess-board.
savvy?
who, among the europeans...
actually needs such artifacts
as new testament texts, credo,
orthodoxy, sign of the cross
greek exports?
the state of israel has
been re-established...
i don't want anything to do
with this judeo-grecian banality...
you can have you little affair over
n
e w
s...
don't worry... i'll make sure that i'm
watching... people tell a lie...
yeah: hum hum bubbly hum-hum...
am i, or are there any arizona
inbreds?
who, the hell, needs, the news testament,
within the confines of history,
dispossessing europe of it,
of an established jewish state?
one book among many...
hence the scent of a yawn...
when entering a library...
i'll do one gesture, and one gesture
alone... inclined to a replica...
ecce libra!
i wash my hands from
having any investment in it.
**** the greeks can have it...
they can keep it, cherish it,
but they better not spaghetti the old testament
with their... "ingenious" plot...
not when the nag hammadi library
emerged...
no... not now... not ever...
i detest this greek book of overt
symbolism...
their pristine alphabet,
their diacritical application,
with the pseudo-romans toying with: deaf...
or blind... whichever it is...
sandpaper... instead of a kangaroo pouch...
of inflated... soft... flesh?
i'll rip your heart out
and feed it to my neighbour's dog,
beside a bowl of water.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 8:32 PM UTC
My Principles Are Not For Sale!
This poem is dedicated to all those secret, righteous souls, the silent minority (and heaven alone knows who they are) who guide their principles of conduct, whenever their evil inclination challenges them, by the credo "G-d is watching." They do what is right, unimpressed with what "everybody else does." They readily hold their lip, and bow their head to maintain this "peace" in G-d's world. To them, know, this is their holy sacrifice--a sacrifice to G-d, on his very Alter (our world).
Surviving adversity, it is really against the odds
that you'll still stay normal with your full deck of cards
Like many a cause that you know have a price
where principle is concerned, you're ready to sacrifice
There is right and there is wrong, you don't need to belong
your principles are just, they have made you headstrong
No rhyme and no reason can sway you from this cause
because you've pondered its justice and have found no flaws
Shouts of anger and negativity galore
you are now tasting just what is in store
What words could you offer to those limited in thought
when all is finished, would it be your wisdom they sought?
Words of the heart enter the heart, when all else fails
it's not a bad place to be, when addressing another's ails
To overcome adversity there is not always one solution
but it can never be found in starting a revolution
In final sum, it seems like the rule of thumb
better to negotiate that peace and then some
For the alternatives are all to clear
why perpetuate hatred and fear
so put aside your differences
and find a world wishing to care
Jul 31, 2015
Jul 31, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
My Principles Are Not For Sale!
This poem is dedicated to all those secret, righteous souls, the silent minority (and heaven alone knows who they are) who guide their principles of conduct, whenever their evil inclination challenges them, by the credo "G-d is watching." They do what is right, unimpressed with what "everybody else does." They readily hold their lip, and bow their head to maintain this "peace" in G-d's world. To them, know, this is their holy sacrifice--a sacrifice to G-d, on his very Alter (our world).
Surviving adversity, it is really against the odds
that you'll still stay normal with your full deck of cards
Like many a cause that you know have a price
where principle is concerned, you're ready to sacrifice
There is right and there is wrong, you don't need to belong
your principles are just, they have made you headstrong
No rhyme and no reason can sway you from this cause
because you've pondered its justice and have found no flaws
Shouts of anger and negativity galore
you are now tasting just what is in store
What words could you offer to those limited in thought
when all is finished, would it be your wisdom they sought?
Words of the heart enter the heart, when all else fails
it's not a bad place to be, when addressing another's ails
To overcome adversity there is not always one solution
but it can never be found in starting a revolution
In final sum, it seems like the rule of thumb
better to negotiate that peace and then some
For the alternatives are all to clear
why perpetuate hatred and fear
so put aside your differences
and find a world wishing to care
Jul 24, 2015
Jul 24, 2015 at 6:32 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Justice delayed is justice denied
A familiar credo rarely applied
So the call for it is a rising tide
They’re only trying to close the divide
It came so quickly in Baltimore
Like nothing that they had ever seen before
The young prosecutor was so able and sure
Though she never tried a case like it before
This time a rookie would light the fuse
People rejoiced once given the news
The laws don’t exist for police to abuse
Responsible parties have to pay some dues
She laid the facts out chapter and verse
Starting with what she said occurred first
It began to appear that Freddie was cursed
As she laid out the charges it looked even worst
Although color only tends to distract
If you must keep track as a matter of fact
Out of the six cops three were black
Which doesn’t suggest that they knew how to act
Cops bleed blue whether black or white
The uniform’s the same am I wrong or right?
Either or they’ll put out your light
Then say you resisted and put up a fight
People were asking how Freddie died
Some rightly suspected from a bumpy ride
And now that those facts have been verified
It’s more than a theory that will get tried
Just as if Freddie was sending a sign
His broken neck and a badly cracked spine
Wasn’t self-inflicted we got to find
Did they really think that we’d lost our minds
© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 8:31 PM UTC
Hail to Thee, Immortal Three
Knowledge we sing on laud
Aristotle, Plato, and Socrates
Philosophy, to be human awed
Teach through time, consciously
Nod not, what others fraud
Socrates taught, Divine Being
God not of brutal Athens’ passions
Entity of Beauty, Truth Seeing
Goodness unseen in day’s fashions
Soul for unalloyed agreeing
Lessons humanities’ compassion
Talk eternal justice, everlasting life
Socrates’ Sovereign Right of Reason
Clearly mind deceived sense’s strife
Invincible perfection be God’s season
Thus, our key to knowledge ever rife
Priests who find this, absolute treason
No church or Socratic school
A barefoot man roamed to teach
Socrates mocked for looking a fool
His speech not one to simply preach
Plato witnesses a martyr’s drool
Cruel hemlock, words did so breach
Handsome aristocratic youth Plato
Followed Socrates’ Eternal Wisdom
But soon to find his own credo
In Medara to find Euclid and freedom
Egyptian geometry to provide dado
To Plato life, expression; not a system
Eternally an artist, Plato did develop
Philosophic circle in Academus groves
Bring Athens, world knowledge envelop
Discretions of sensations, be not oaths
What man may be, an animal jealous
Plato’s allegorical cave found in droves
As Plato once be Socrates’ disciple
So too, to Plato would Aristotle be
Passing comprehension archetypal
Successions of genius’ visions do see
Aristotle taking it step further, as vital
To science of hands-on discovery
And this is where we see a parting
Of two distinctly opposing philosophies
Plato being at odds, with science starting
Aristotle’s truth, finding no apologies
Things not happening by chance imparting
Frivolity of duopoly, dichotomy to Socrates
But a new era has surely now dawned
Science exploring an invisible atom
And the seen and unseen correspond
So to Aristotle’s, Plato’s, Socrates’ datum
Brilliant new philosophies have spawned
An abstract notion of conceived stratum
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
i have been attacked
on another poetry site
because i found a
baby plagierist....
it is of no matter
really...
a storm in a teacup...
i only mention it here
because...
the logic of the this cyber ****
was so very ludicrious.
among the swearing
and none to inventive ways
i should go **** myself
was this little gem....
"and stop using a dictionary
to make yourself look smart"
now...i am honest in saying
none of the ranting had affected me up to this point....
but this...just left me...
.... rolfing.....
as poets....is not that part of
our credo...is the dictionary
not one of our basic tools.
anyway..just thought i would share this
as an example of the genius
minds that take up trolling.
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 5:25 AM UTC
Just feel don't know
Need love want hope
End up all alone
End up in a retirement home
Taste heart smell sun
Dance shake shimmy fun
Run into guy with a gun
Run in the convent be a nun
Worship jesus worship god
Hate the devil hate the rod
Celibate and frozen solid
No one ever sees your ***
Age wrinkle die alone
Empty heart empty throne
Wasted life on fake credo
Now you die, now you go
May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 8:59 PM UTC
Trust is not weakness
Vulnerability is where honesty breeds hope
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
I self-indulged—
For me a rare
Lapse, an unexpected
Slide to materialism.
Repenting already,
My selfishness.
I bought myself
Internet Radio.
How could I resist?
E-Tail has made it so easy.
GOTO Amazon Electronics.
•Amazon.com: Electronicswww.amazon.com/electronics-store/b?ie=UTF8... Amazon.com, Inc. Online shopping from a great selection at Electronics Store. ... Electronics. Shop for TV & Video, ... Featured Offers in Electronics ... Electronics Categories • ($“Ka-Ching! Ka-Ching!$ Ads in the middle of the freaking poem!”)
The omnipresent marketplace:
Shop at home in your pajamas,
Pay for it with keystrokes,
Go back to sleep.
FOR SALE: Hail to thee,
Oh bittersweet Credo of Capitalism!
I finally broke down,
Accepting the fact that
RADIO: once a wireless marvel;
Now, a fading media option,
Its broadcast range
Not only shrunk, but
Signal reception, downright poor.
So, I finally broke down
Bought a radio that actually works.
So what I want to know
Is NPR so full of itself that
They go so far to find some
British-accent guy to read
Sports summaries?
I am listening to some
Pompous Pommy poofter,
At KBOS, Boston, Massachusetts,
Nigel Longshanks, himself,
Recapping “The Run for the Roses,”
Kentucky Derby homestretch,
Missed NBA semi-final foul shot &
The freakish mojo comeback of
Yankee Baseball Bad Boy: A-ROD.
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 1:19 PM UTC
The burning hunger of fractured regret
Your blasphemous assumption of my stupidity?
in whose material conundrum of a word?
in what abstract thought on your minimal plane?
An endless valley of craters and breaks
Monosyllabic color in your grossly proportioned mind
With all rotting media disgust and YOU mock me?
You ballooned beast of a drunken horror film nominee
The paint on a pigs face will always burn inward
Scarring the inside craniotomy
Until nothing is left but the repetition of a credo
An incline of standard flat bodies
****** up and deposed All living in a drawl world
Steeped in liquid
Stretched thin to cover the inquiries
To burn over and brand the thinkers and the lots
An Oklahoma city bombing is still carved into your fair-haired breath
Your bigotry is hilarious because my disgust could eat us all
Yes I am leaping off my high horse but **** you I deserve it
We frown upon pride unless it is clothed in metaphors of suppression
And to what do you overcome?
Your perfect quiet suburban upbringing
Exposure blackballing the floor boards filled with lies
Lies that are my foundation
Rocks that rust into marbles rattling
Around my stomach
With every rung the anger in my rib cage calls out to you
The yelping, the sheltered closet and the oriental rugs
Yes I am dumb like you
More happier in this fatal dichotomy
of a trip **** holy **** despotic mess.
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 9:26 AM UTC
Are we to wither away, say goodbye to the remote possibility of everything or the acceptance of nothing, damaged as we are from life and what it has thrown at us and how we have adapted to it, where is the strength we thought nothing of when we were young – everything was possible, anything could be overcome.
Now it is harder to start from the beginning to rise from the detritus that has left its smudge on this human plane, to feel warmth from one’s own heart, passions that used to run deep are locked away lost from the moment, will they ever return or are they buried from this reality – what is this reality?
Pure and without stimulus our bodies weak from over indulgence become but empty vessels for our pain to adhere to, but yet exists this mind of memories that fail to disappear.
These very memories fight with the functionality that we accept as our living life mixed with dreams and our experiences laid bare to improve upon the quality of our anger, frustration, pleasure and happiness that engages us again, enabling us the advantage to overcome our apathy and withstand hardship and discomfort, both mentally and physically.
And once again we shout from the highest imagined ground our intentions and with our determination set to turbo drive, we move out on to the superhighway of our existence, battling our demons to achieve our presupposed goals, is this living?
Or merely homage to a bygone set of loosely interpreted doctrine absorbed from our greater consciences. Individuality what has this become? – A freedom to define ones uniqueness?
Is it truly accepted or is it frowned upon, an illusion perhaps, to be held high then massaged by ego, manipulated by the wannabees and dismissed by the pseudo intellectuals for their contrived ill-gotten gains.
Or is it puerile credo that mutates in to a complex melange of all things material, a substitute for the happiness that existed in a previous incarnation of existence, without doubt a causal effect imploding, oblivious to the damage that is caused by the ignorance of consideration and distillation of emotion from love, to the banality of acceptance.
Once again the circle is circumvented and the cycle is begun in earnest until the finality of death is welcomed unto the midst of longing from the soul, in repose before its journey to dance amongst the cosmos.
Nov 25, 2012
Nov 25, 2012 at 6:53 PM UTC
E shita lekuren bashke me kockat
E dhashe me cmim te lire
U lehtesova nga nje barre e rende
E mora udhen tutje si era...
Vetja s'mu duk rrugac,as shenjt
Per cudi u ndjeva me teper njeri!
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
I grew up knowing we are a broken race,
A race that changes smiles to frowns on everyone's face,
A race of pity, a race of self destruction,
A race of slaves, a race of savages.
I grew up knowing that we are the poison to the sea,
Acid to the earth
And pollution to the air.
I grew up embarassed of my colour,
Embarassed of my Nation,
Embarassed of my Continent...
I guess I didn't know better
That one day I will discover of our Greatness.
I discovered that our forefathers walked all four corners of the Earth.
Let me rephrase that...
Our forefathers were acknowledged in all corners of the Earth.
I discovered we were once tutors of the world,
We were once Astronomers of the stars,
Travellers of Mother Earth,
Doctors to the sick
And Founders of great kingdoms like Cambodia, parts of Egypt, America etc...
We were founders of some of the world's oldest civilisations,
The olmec vivilization.
African child, how far have you fallen?
I get so much joy and pride when I look back,
Back beyond the slave's era,
Further before the missionaries,
The beauty I see.
I am overwhelmed by the greatness of our Africanism.
Where did it all go wrong?
We have such great history
But it all sounds like a myth or a mystery
Especially when I say that we once walked tall and high in the foreign lands of America,
Not as slaves but as residents and rulers.
Our history shouts of our greatness,
It tells us that the first man to be saluted as Emperor of China
Was the son of the soil, the son of Africa.
Our history tells a story of our existence in India,
Our great kingdoms in Cambodia and Scotland.
Our history even goes back further to the ancient times of the Bible.
It speaks of ****** a great man in the eyes of the Lord,
The father of Cush, the founder of Cushite, a black nation.
It saddens me to see us disrespect our elders like this
For they hold our rich history.
They hold the bridges we have forgotten,
They hold the secrets of our Nation.
They were there when mama Africa gave birth to us
And we will weep when mama Africa swallows them up.
We will not cry for they have gone
But we will cry for the knowledge we have buried.
If you don't believe me ask the sage Ntate Credo Mutwa.
Wake up Africa. Wake up and Rise...
Rise African Child!
Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 7:30 PM UTC
rwyf wrth fy modd i chi.
rwy'n credo mewn chi.
aros yn gryf.
gadw i fynd.
peidiwch a^ rhol'r gorau iddi.
i chi.
yn caeleu.
hardd.
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 8:16 PM UTC
I am the poet called, Sweetsilverbird,
but friends all know that I will never fly;
unless it is by every waking sigh
or every dream or wish or written word.
I have a tender heart that's often stirred,
but that's the code that I would live life by.
I could not bear to try to live a lie,
so of all subterfuge I have been cured.
I think because life has been so unfair,
I will not play the games that others play.
Why does a lifetime have to go so fast?
Why tolerate the cruelty that's there?
But I am made of simple human clay
and only live as long as I shall last.
Apr 19, 2012
Apr 19, 2012 at 1:34 AM UTC
Solo et pensoso i più deserti campi
vo mesurando a passi tardi e lenti,
e gli occhi porto per fuggire intenti
ove vestigio uman l'arena stampi.
Altro schermo non trovo che mi scampi
dal manifesto accorger de le genti;
perché ne gliatti d'alegrezza spenti
di fuor si legge com'io dentro avampi:
sì ch'io mi credo omai che monti e piagge
e fiumi e selve sappian di che tempre
sia la mia vita, ch'è celata altrui.
Ma pur sì aspre vie né sì selvagge
cercar non so ch'Amore non venga sempre
ragionando con meco, et io co llui.
1.4k
pogo thought they is we -
when the picnic ends in confusion -
and the lemonade is spoiled by ashes.
aristotle thought courage a great virtue -
death a great adventure -
and teaching the highest understanding.
siddhartha thought life is all illusion -
and that we must practice dying -
until we finally understand.
rumi thought death is awakening -
and with his thought turning turning turning -
he danced into the light of understanding.
jesus thought death is new life abundant -
and that he would make us welcome.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 11:19 PM UTC
There once was a shadow who thought he was a man,
He made his empty bed in a shame of familiars,
For years if not an eternity he never did one single thing,
He contemplated creativity in all its smoke and mirrors,
His only credo was padding his unknowing, limp ego,
Got a gig, speaking before a throng of other shadows,
He rewrote the crook about his own insignificances, suddenly
Nothing's became every things, all was sorely well in the bleak
Under toes. Shadowman had found his stage, had rearranged
Chaos and insignificance to the point of no enlightenments,
No regrets. What a sage!
Shadowman aped, traced, spewed in studied literature,
Experienced, faith, trust, fidelity, danced numbers,
In a cellophane pack with all the added extras included,
Found that reflecting words only got in his narcissistic way,
Left the California sun for the New York lowlands
Of the east, that only shine after the hurricane's
Deluge. Shadowman has reams of flesh plastered
On a mall of wallowing sites only Shadowmen frequent,
Modern is the moly man who makes his own myth.
Shadowman has traveled to the great southern climes
Where hotels of shade tell tales of locals and enlightenment is in a drug
Called something South American or other? A drug so smug it is a plug
For his dun holy soul. Shadowman is only a silhouette of himself.
He freely gives seminars to the lame, chained to themselves freely,
Where all the vain echoes are chambered, embodied, entombed.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 11:19 PM UTC
Am I beautiful enough?
For the wicked and the ******
To live without care
To meet expectations force-fed unto me
Am I beautiful enough?
To walk the hall and make jaws drop
To tempt Adam and live in Eden
To bring the Archangel to his knees
Am I beautiful enough?
To be in magazine spreads
To see my body in Times Square
To make all women turn green
Am I beautiful enough?
So intelligence does not matter
To be in the eye of the beholder
To be loved
To be free
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 3:17 AM UTC
Shalom
you said
but Fay's father
ignored you
on the stairs
of the block of flats
you were only trying
to make peace with him
because of Fay
but he wasn't
buying into any Jewism
as he termed it
forgetting that
his Jesus said head
of his Catholic Church
was a Jew himself
but that was
another matter
so you let him go
on his way
up the stairs
humming some
Latin hymn to himself
later seeing Fay
on the way
to the grocer's shop
through the Square
she said her father
had forbidden her
to even talk with you
(the Jew Boy
he had said)
but she knew it was
impossible even
if she wanted to
which she didn't
despite the risk
she ran in seeing you
or talking with you
I only said shalom to him
you said
she frowned
it means peace
you said
I could have said
something else to him
less friendly
she smiled weakly
best say nothing
she said
o.k
you said
so you walked with her
to the grocer's shop
across the road
and along to the grocer's shop
by the newspaper shop
where they had
The Three Musketeers book
in the window
which you wanted
to buy at sometime
and you showed her
the book and the cover
with a picture
of three musketeers
sword fighting
and you walked on
to the grocers
and she bought
what was on her list
and you got
what your mother
had written
on a small scrap of paper
and afterwards you said
how about a penny drink
at the Penny shop?
and she looked anxious
and said
not sure Dad said
not to linger around
well don't linger
you said
but have a drink
and we can sit
by the wall outside
and see the world go by
and sip our drinks
she hesitated
but then said
o.k
so you took her
to the Penny shop
and bought two bottles
of penny pop
and sat outside
by the wall
your shopping bags
beside you
the morning sun
blessing your heads
and she talked
of the nuns
at her school
how strict they were
but one she said
was kind
and taught her
the Credo in Latin
word by word
and you sat
listening to her
and she sitting there
momentarily free
like an uncaged
song bird.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 3:03 AM UTC
Impoverished money grubs sit and revel in their ***** suds
liking the flavors of darkly bubbled mud.
From lovely earth, life debt owned,
even if some still believe in this crud.
Hunching ancient patriots hang western flags
and live by the credo provided, and die by what mind remains undecided.
Here, there, and everywhere lies man in the bush as hunters slouch
gun, weapon fist-ted in bruised and trembling hand.
Tis no wonder, what geometry pierces the chest,
thought choice as if it were only peril.
A cardinal sings whilst losing that rose-colored scintillating ring
one more Orion slacks his belt, never.
Stubborn and mostly blinded another shell blows through creature,
in and out his ******* head, a demonic act of high treason.
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:53 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Proudly he wore the uniform
As many others do
Went to work everyday
Because he always knew
What he wanted to be
Once he finally grew
Just like his father
And some uncle’s too
He lived by their credo
To protect and serve
Until he met a fate
That no one deserves
Shot twice in the head
Some people have nerve
Now an officer is dead
And his perp’s in the preserve
Facing a life sentence
Not the electric chair
He has no repentance
You see, he doesn’t care
They call him Hell-Raiser
I guess that’s only fair
He doesn’t have mercy
At least that I’m aware
We need to thank ‘em
For the jobs they do
Risking life and limb
For people like me and you
But to their oaths
They swore to be true
The many men and women
Who proudly wear the blue
© Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
May 4, 2015
May 4, 2015 at 3:47 PM UTC
Subes centelleante de labios y ojeras!
Por tus venas subo, como un can herido
que busca el refugio de blandas aceras.
Amor, en el mundo tú eres un pecado!
Mi beso es la ***** chispeante del cuerno
del diablo; mi beso que es credo sagrado!
Espíritu es el horópter que pasa
puro en su blasfemia!
El corazón que engendra al cerebro
que pasa hacia el tuyo, por mi barro triste.
Platónico estambre
que existe en el cáliz donde tu alma existe!
Algún penitente silencio siniestro?
Tú acaso lo escuchas? Inocente flor!
...Y saber que donde no hay un Padrenuestro,
el Amor es un Cristo pecador!
1.2k
il tuo sorriso,
come le stelle sopra di noi stasera
Non credo che potrei abbastanza confrontare
il modo in cui i tuoi occhi brillano alla luce della luna pallida
essi sono di colore blu
sono sempre stati
ma è diverso questa volta
perché questa volta ti piaccio troppo
questa volta siamo completamente persi
in un mondo tutto nostro
ma mi rendo conto di minuetti dopo
sveglio nel mio letto
lacrime sulle mie guance
era solo un sogno
e questo è tutto ciò che non potrà mai verificarsi
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 8:53 PM UTC