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She is young. Have I the right
Even to name her? Child,
It is not love I offer
Your quick limbs, your eyes;
Only the barren homage
Of an old man whom time
Crucifies. Take my hand
A moment in the dance,
Ignoring its sly pressure,
The dry rut of age,
And lead me under the boughs
Of innocence. Let me smell
My youth again in your hair.
Emily Oquendo Oct 2014
This little nightmare comes and goes
Its dark and tainted when it comes it grows
it taints all my dreams it crucifies my night
its hauntingly fast, I'm losing this fight

this creature of dark this son of night
fleeing again at the first sight of dawns light
It holds my terrors and haunts my dreams
But the demons it carries are demons from me
nivek Aug 2015
for now I feel the full weight of your words
back bent muscles ready to snap
and as I stagger along a flint strewn road
my feet cut bruised blue black
the shouts of tormentors reach my heart
once again the world crucifies a man
just a man, a mans truth embodied
you too stand in the crowd, and witness
Sayer Jan 2014
calm me with your hands
smooth my wounds a little more
i'm lost in this invisible highway
wandering with lots of baggage

while i'm stuck here hung up high by disappointment,
crucified by travesty depression love and sickness
everyday my stomach hurts,
my head burns
i can see the light coming
but i know i must not surrender to the light
that is disguised as darkness

and i must remember, as my body aches
the good times and not the bad
perhaps those times were too few

if i could start over i would
crawl out of a small claustrophobic box of death
and depression
and with my hands, come back into the womb

surrender to the fall,
with the mother of us all
looking over
giving birth to everyone
so fast, so short
i can't look past you,
your eyes staring at me
watching me be taken down
you must throw me into the sun
the true light, the true fight
i can try to see the future but
i'm truly blind to everything
and i know you try to help
but every word crucifies and burns
my aching soul
and as I feel like it's time to melt back into the ground
i climb back into the womb with my Ladder
and wait to be slipped back in again,
but all I can feel is your face
all i see are your eyes
everyone else doesn't matter
i've waited so long
i've been up here so long
take me down
take me down
take me down
take me down
take me down
take me down
take me down
and just hold me,
for a little while
because i am not the one who needs to hold,
i am the one who needs to be held.
Samantha Creek Dec 2013
Speak, ******!

Your words lace up my veins giving me courage
to fight the shattered glassed wind
that peals me apart,

But your absence of words that propels between your lips
allows that sharpened sigh become wind
that makes my feet miss the ground.

Your silence crucifies the tunnels of my ears
that plead for a satisfaction to my thirst
whineing to be spoon fed with words given in droplets on a sponge.

What happened to the letters bleeding into words,
dictionaries of f'ing words, that dripped
from your mouth that perfectly iluminated me?

Anxious thoughts, a moaning stomach, and slippery hands
do not resonate together to complete a symphony of calm.
So say something,
anything.
A ***** allergy to cast me out of Hell
A sneezing like coming from the brain
Nine times in a row as I left her in the snow
For something I'd lost
A long, long time ago.

The girl was sick and pregnant; sweating and sore
Her doctor was a humble, kindly man
He often drew on marijuana
Left her on the table
And left God to decide
Upon the sinews to reveal
Better not to propagate the table
Not to operate.

The swindler has a most convincing way
With your children well before they're born
He's in your pocket before your first *******
Bleeds your first wife's last abortion.

And sings on high it's time to fly
Time to leave the foster mother's frigid icy nips
Write off your wan crapulous ten year plan
Tom no more like tigers on the tactile plain
But join the orphanage in its raw and biting pain

Time to go back to a savage civility
That crucifies the sane with kid gloves and contempt
Chanting bold and blasphemous and oh, so democratic!
When Christ was always my dictator
Sally A Bayan Nov 2013
It was a twist of fate....
It was more than I could take....
Who would have  known of this tragic moment?
In a split second, I find myself in a strange scenario.
I want no more memories.....
Sadly, they're all that's left with me,
Mingling...with
Feelings unexpressed,
Words unspoken...
Things I kept to myself before,
They're all bottled up inside me,
I fear I might explode...
With every beat of my heart,
I am reminded of how I lost you...
The pain, the angst,
Will not just fade overnight...

So let me open my heart to you now,
Dear Anna......you were my first...
I love you and your siblings,
But right now is between you and me.
Somehow, I see
How tight I had held you then...
How your tiny hands I had kissed so often
Before I let you go.....I had to let you go...
I wasn't the one who raised you...
I wish I could turn back the times,
I wish I had been the one....
This knife cuts so deep, it crucifies me...
You kept saying goodbye
In more ways than I could remember....
But...I failed, to perceive the hidden truths
In your messages,
I will be sorry for the rest of my life...

I love you, Anna, how do I cope?
I have no more strength...
I am in panic, I have no more hope...
A different perspective now resides within me...
I can't face tomorrow, because you won't be there.
If I were given a choice,
I wouldn't wish to see another sunrise...

I feel the emptiness of your space, here and now...
But...something...keeps pricking my brain.
An idea that somehow, creates sparks in my mind...
A consoling thought, it kind of pats my heart...

The sweet little daughter you left behind?
It makes me smile, as
I see her now, going through your stuff,
On your bed, where you had left them all scattered...
She has taken over, she's now in your space...
A glimmer of hope, she will be...
To pull me through each, and
Every agonizing night...

I love you, I miss you, my dear Anna........

          (August 2013)

                 Sally        

        Copyright 2013
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
In August 2013, my friend Tess lost her eldest daughter to dengue fever...these were her words....this is her poem...long overdue.....
Justin Michael May 2013
Violence is no medicine for anger

Revenge is no food for the soul

Vice crucifies on an obsidian cross

And consumes your humanity whole
Mary Gay Kearns Aug 2018
Evolution set us on the wrong path
Being about the survival of the fit.
Which means shortage crucifies
Those who are disadvantaged,
We can never become wholesome.

To evolve the good in us
Many try for justice but usually
Regardless of their own decline.
Most don’t realise the guilt cut,
So much is just genetic code.

This is the lesson humankind comes to
Learn on the presipise of its own demise
But in reality it has always been too late.
Lonely, desolate it creeps along the beach
Cradling the possessions it collected in life.

Love Mary x
But there are good deeds given with love which redeem a few thoughtful souls.
Thank you to those I have known and cherished .Love Mary xxxxx
Silence Screamz Nov 2015
Time stained by a mind filled with **** as
I stepped on the mush covered soil
I dare not listen to the obscenities of fabled mouths and crooked smiles
They lie to me as the cockroaches scamper across the floor
Leaving their disease ridden tracks and their dead children to rot

Why do I walk on these calloused soles?
Blistered skin and **** drained sores fester with my very step of time
I'd rather crawl, crawl with no remorse or conscious left
Drained and tired muscles cramp as I feel their seizure on my tired bones
The pain crucifies me deep

More **** stirs inside, whispered voices of past enemies linger
Lies and more lies, you lying *******
You snapped the ******* life out of me
I lost my own mind waiting for someone to say "***** you, *******, who the hell are you?"
Arms scratched with the razor's edge
Drop the drip and watch the filth flow
A little mouthy rant with a deeper message, hope you.understand
Freds not dead Mar 2011
Singing one time like all
Clothed eyed people
Rolling their own cigarettes (that’s important)
Shawls and things that only
You know
Certain types of people wear
And the uniforms here are backwards
And you win only if
You stand out, but it’s just running away with people not chasing
Haircuts
Those are important too
Guys pretend not to have one but they let the faces get rough
And forest like
And girls act like caring isn’t a type of flightless bird but
It’s more of a statement maybe

And I thought I couldn’t be a banker because of the
Way I acted
And the way I felt about things like the weather and prostitution
But really
I can’t be a poet
Least of all I can’t be a poet

I must be wrapped swimming in clouds backwards, or something poetic like that
I can’t tell
The difference between
Being a doctor, teacher
A healer, a man that crucifies himself on Wall Street
A serial killer
A starving child
And a fashion guru

Earlier I said this out loud and
Now it’s a poem

( and the words go **** me **** me **** me
and the pages sing **** me **** me **** me)
Mic Mar 2016
Time crucifies sight
Soften your gaze
See the fully blossomed flower
In the slumbering rosebud
And love her as so
Mahima Gupta Aug 2014
Those days I don't forget to forget
Are coming back again
Unknowingly I slipped out through the camps
The dream is a nightmare
Nightmares will be worse
I was beginning to think only my life is a curse
The stark reality crucifies all kids
Millions committing suicide
Children killed in the cribs
Is it the way of living or are we being tortured, mother
Am I to die even before I stutter
Those men in the ships will they rescue us
Or is the glory of the truth just another farce
Should I trust the government, mother?
Should I think mother? Should I die?
The worst poem I've written till date.
(Wrote it while listening to pink Floyd. Hence, those few lines)
Lexander J Sep 2016
God look upon me, I so need you right now,
reveal your love, oh please please show me how,
I can't fight past this festering wall of decay
I'm tired, aching and lonely, I won't make it any other way

this heart you gave me is desperately ill
without your strength I'll wake in the morn to it still,
never have I had such luck with love, oh why,
do I find myself falling asleep begging to fade away, to die

you can't stop the tears that will no longer come
cupid's fell from grace, swapping his bow for a gun
and now here I stand as the moon lights up the callous skies
surrounded by deceit and pathetic lies

seeking reverence within cigarette smoke, my ignorance deadly to some
caring less and less, I think my time has come
to either forget the past and look to the future ahead
or to wallow in the self-pity that bloats my head

I'm so sorry for everything I've done wrong
I'm selfish, I'm self-loathing, I don't deserve it but for forgiveness I long -
my sanity is twisting, my honesty it crucifies and bends
for it seems any happiness I ever find goes away in the end

I'm not stupid, I know this is my last dance

oh Lord I'm begging you, please, give me another chance
theboy May 2015
These are the nights
in which all that you said
becomes true
and all that you did
becomes justified

These are the nights
in which the lights in my mind
stay on
while the black of the night
***** the luminescence out of all else

These are the nights
in which the future
no longer exists
and the past
becomes all too tangible once again

These are the nights
in which my imagination
crucifies me time and time again
but the rising sun
brings no promise of salvation

forgive him father, for he
knows not what he is
much less what he does

These are the nights
in which he wishes
he didn't
in which he wishes
he wasn't
Caleb John May 2018
When I look into my past it looks like broken mirror

It started out shiny and beautiful

Then the world got a hold on me

I took the beautiful life my God and Savior gave me

And threw it on the floor.....

This world looked so good to me but I only found that I was drowning in an ocean of sand

That mirror is corroded and disgusting

And all I'm left thinking is

Why was I so stupid

So many look at me and say Jesus shines in me

If that's the case why does my past look at me and like to bring me back

Why am I still here

I sometimes wish I lived at the time of the apostle Paul

Or I wish that I would be persecuted or beaten for my faith

Because that is nothing compared to what I deserve...

I wish those shards weren't stabbed in my back but that's where they are lodged

So why can't I be like pilgrim and drop my heavy burden?

Maybe because I'm a coward

Now here I am

At the feet of the cross

I would love to say I'll just put it down by the power of Christ and I'll be on my way

Why is it every time I throw it down it comes chasing after me?

Jesus I need you

I need to drop this guilt

I need to drop this sin

Sometimes I wish you could just give me a heart transplant

Because my heart crucifies you again and again

Day after day

I'm not strong enough

I'm worn

Jesus I can't fight this on my own

I can't win

I can't carry this

All around me are those you used me to love

But after what I've done I wish you would use someone else

I guess that's just one of the awesome things about you

Is where my sin abounds your grace is more.

I need your forgiveness

I need you

Please forgive me my Lord and my God
Farah Nov 2018
Burning anxiety demands to be felt,
Pain on a cross crucifies my safety belt

The Bleeding of anger surrounds the planet of Saturn,
Cowering emotions of a weak and reflective pattern

Differentiating the savages from one another,
Blasphemous torture brings a reign of popping colour.

Conflicting paintings of contradicting contrast,
Overpowering the loneliness of a raw & ready outcast

identifying potential and searching for identity,
Dangerous obscurity holds deep defying
serenity

Face tackling emotions, distancing with deflect,
Running on ideas, this light won’t project.
Sound waves and paintings nourish a soul,
A way to reveal the basics of mind control
On the bus, on the way back, he thought about his house and Dn's. Adolfo, being able to see one on the rise and the other on the decline, in the hands of a survivor. Ludwig ...: What a pity ..., I'm going to torture or I'm going to glory. I only have their memories, some of their belongings to talk with, and I myself have chosen not to be scared by what would make me forget all circulating waver and be a great achiever. This profession that alternates me with people and does not isolate me, complicates my conversion. It was not long ago in the unfortunate death of that trampled animal, it reminded me of other severed deaths, and without forgiveness. Or those vainly confessed by the one who in his concept of sin, no matter how great his nature, repentance that always languid at leisure, makes his act sinful. Definitely, there are several protectors of the conscious sinner, who in doing so re-crucifies that Lord. The bad must reach out to the good, even if betrayal lurks with his infidelity.

In the afternoon when he was hesitant to sneak out of his musings, some custom remained to ease him, more well-ventilated oxygen in his head, centrifuging the Free Radicals. And the dark stain that blinds the flow that dominates him, that makes him feel without language to describe the crushing that often ends him. For more than half an hour he was like this until he wanted to move his legs and was able to move them, but where ...?, Maybe very far, towards a place where he has to jump savoring the stained airs spread around. Anyway, everything could be there, but when he became disenchanted, he saw parts that indicated that he would arrive very soon to the field that in his abandonment was decolonize some bird legs and the fallen fruits ran on arid soil, manifesting a grandiloquent regret. Upon arrival, he looked at the surface and thought he had never been born, he walked out to the proximity of what had never been stained before, this immense Garden similar to the grasslands of South Africa, with its flowery steppes and its precocious warnings to reserve a continent for the future. Hunger, thirst, and sleep were withdrawn, only his eyelids moved. Up and down a window was hit by a wind that tried to unlock it. In addition, the walls were vigorously sheltered by tree elephants. I see myself laughing and I remember myself, maybe some wind is going to sway my hair, or I am going to touch the search for the not found.

Ludwig is overwhelmed, like an ahistorical identity, foreseeing any moment that spills over into his time and goes with all the silences in the world. His rigid complexion bends his sickly body at the incapacity. Everything smelled of subtlety and purity, the spirited detergents linked the beginning and the end in communion. The inevitable image of Antoinette with the encrusted pigment of her forms will hang from the top of love, towards the wakefulness of unspeakable dreams. He talked and laughed with her, he never ran out of her, not even when he got into any discussion because there was none of her and there will be none of her. If there is something necessary is to retain the beauty in remembering it ...? In that same instant, he left the memory of her and went to find her. He says that it must be kept for posterity, everything neatly in the neat white sheets that my superior members will caress. He walked to the outskirts of the Prehistoric Park, which at more than one moment appeared in his mind the present shadow of someone he loved, with his harmonious and veiled countenance. Long days of confinement, if he needed something in the kitchen, he ran out to buy what his mother in a hurry ordered him. And to this day he does, but now he is going to buy him shoots from the highest mountains, to reappear in him the height of his loving son.

Before the house of Antonieta, he is and struck with some nervousness. Very deeply she breathed herself, and when she rubbed the palms of her hands very wet, she more she became restless. Time passed and no one opened Ludwig insisted, but it was useless, no one opened. Then he knocked on the next house, opening a dark lord for him. The one with the cigar on his lips, almost swallowing it, told him that they had moved from the neighborhood. Actually, his mother suffered a lot from her cough. Ludwig, thanks him and says goodbye, before leaving he looked at the house and continued to his destination.

At no time did he expect a voice to appear, like the one he saw approaching at high speed, such as a racing car. As he resumed his march he turned his foot violently, emitting a noise similar to a nuance of Antoinette's voice. He looked around her, not seeing anyone like her. It was getting late, fatigue was taking him home. As he passed through the Park, he entered to see that famous Geysers Fountain. Clear reasons had such as being old-fashioned and a bit abandoned because she gave him the sense of friendship and love, and he did not want to lose once again a reason to live. He said to himself ...: That something positive is that here everything is in optimal conditions, just as Antonieta should be. And just the voice attacks ...: "What you can think, tell it, since what you have read was all recorded here ..."

Ludwig ...: So fast, you're here again ...!
The voice ...: Yes because you are more alone than before. I fear that your soul will be mute, and I will be seriously threatened!
Ludwig ...: This passage of life and the world is a powerful vice, wherever you go to take it; he will do with you what he wants.
The voice ...: Yes, ... Yes ... but you should not fear, you are big and strong. Don't let it scare us more.
Ludwig ...: Enough is enough, I only know that their quantities are excessive. I can no longer receive vices involved so that they finish us off.
The voice ...: You're dead, you've been like this for a long time. For this reason, you will not develop the vicious virals of the apocalyptic subsist, you will only digest food without flavor, and what is liquid will appear solid. Here's something about the feeling that you can't explain. A moment ago I feared the threat, now a difference is emerging.
Ludwig ...: What ...!, How to explain the dead? He ran out of the park to his house. When he relived that situation, he seemed greater than usual, he feared a greater fear, that is why he ran in terror. He came in saying ...: Dad ..., Mom ... Where are they ...?

When he reacts, he realizes his madness, it is that the black curtains plowed and frozen as if making him pay a debt. As usual, he lay down on his humus bed. Again the sunny awakening washed away the dirt. There was mercy, there was love on the part of his faithful and irreplaceable vegetable valley, of immeasurable goodness
Weirdly Emigrate Chapter VIII
What do I do with your silence?
It’s like reaching for a step that’s not there, stumble over the invisible and fall when all I want to do is fly.

Trespassing areas are violated, and I am not ready for the consequences.
Yet you trespass.
Dark, flat, still air.
Everything is out of order here.
While I hear the noise of dry leaves breaking under my steps,
The only moving things are thoughts.

Like vermiculation, they produce discomfort.
Like water that boils, they burn.
Like a wave that crashes into a shore, they hurt.
Like a pain inflicted on someone who doesn’t deserve it... or a slap that hits the cheek of an innocent, it humiliates.
It’s an unjust mental pain that crucifies everyone.
Me, you... All others.
What will they do with the cracks you’ve left on me?

I know you can’t understand me, and it’s really not my fault.
I am unexplainable, like the universe.
But I know that complex matter isn’t for everyone.

I wonder if you are anyone or somebody special.

I close my eyes and feel everything.
I hear a voice: “Live if you can or die.”
It’s a curse or a blessing.

To anyone who’s not you, I will ask:
If you are in the dark, can you see the light?
Because I am a complex matter and for you to understand me, you gotta be special.

Penny Black ©
Freedom is a fallacy
We conjure in our minds
It’s the mask we wear for the unaware
That helps us live our daily lives
A mirage for the alien
Lying doormat in our skin
That’s been with us since we were born
And crucifies our sins
A departure from benevolence
The collective human race
That stands there at the finish line
Laughing in our face.

— The End —