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"dethrones" poems
Welcome to my nightmare of monstrosity, A view, deep within a person's atrocity. We live in a world where evil dethrones, All what is left where light once shone. From the depths, once we dreamed... Now we crawl hiding from the beast within, Through the infernal flames, we walked Out from the darkness, once we thought. It's endless and so it seems! The suffering won't just die from within, It rages through like blazing fire, Devouring all of you and your desires. What makes a nightmare? What makes it real? Perhaps you're not dreaming? Maybe it's how it seems? Waking up hoping for a difference, Then forcing oneself to sleep Just to pretend, to try escaping it! With the absence of illusion one may suffer, not  knowing the truth! Does it matter now? When you're consumed and left nothing to lose. Just go on live your life! Or just end it! Enough design your demise! Hiding, Cowering in the dark! Just to know you're all alone... A living nightmare worst than when you're asleep, No point of escaping either way you will face defeat. For it is you who won't let go! Addicted with the affliction! For you feed your demons with fears and desolation!
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Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 4:42 AM UTC
A Living Nightmare
The winding whispers of a newborn leaf Uncurl its muted rhymes And weave the Lord’s eternal song Among the trails of time God’s risen Son reclaims our souls To rouse a slumbering earth And spins a fragrant melody That mirrors our rebirth Mingling shadows shake the stillness Ringing through the trees In hushed remembrance of the ancient cross That held salvation’s key. Faded murmurs of the Savior’s voice Engulf the rambling sky To wrap her soul in solitude Where untouched dreams reside The rosy frailty of a budding branch Dethrones its broken past Hung with the breath of dormant hopes Resurrected at long last My wild wanderings lead me back Where the wide-eyed crocus stirs A transient token of abiding grace As long as faith endures From Christ’s surrender arose new life Where the light of redemption springs His footsteps call my spirit home Borne on eternity’s wings.
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Jan 15, 2013
Jan 15, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC
Resurrection
pineapple light sparks flowing life reflecting on opals deviation lunar queen goes for a rest amber king dethrones her
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May 8, 2021
May 8, 2021 at 2:31 PM UTC
Sunrise over a Lake
The angels watching over me to hold me as I sleep the father with the Earth in hands My soul is his to keep My mother's mother's fairy tales her daughters blinding trust When tragedy and misery convince her that she must In wooden pews and basement rooms with bible tightly clutched I listened to the fairy tales, the fables forming rust On alter I held out my hands to catch the chunk of bread That pastor always said to me where flesh of the son long dead Fifteen years of song and dance Fifteen years of grace Fifteen years spent listening their stories gone to waste But the world grows larger the questions too and the faith is quickly lost replaced by science, philosophy common sense dethrones the cross I want so desperately to believe for your sake more than mine Eternal life is a dream to me but I hate to see you cry My mother's mother passed her faith by my mother I have failed She prays for me each day and night but her worries I can't assail Oh mother, mother can't you see this faith is yours not mine The word of God is not enough but maybe, give me time. Angels I have heard on high in God I place my trust It's the son, the cross, that I decline He's your savior, not mine. As angels lay me down to sleep I hope one day you'll see My mother's mother's parables lend no comfort to me Oh mother, mother can't you see it kills me when you pray for something I cannot give you and by each passing day your expectations grind at me they make it hard to stay Oh mother, mother I'm begging you don't push me away The father watching over us holds me as I sleep and comforts me each night as my anxiety will creep into me heart, I trust in him but thats all I can give let it be enough for you I'm trying, let me live.
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Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 11:27 PM UTC
My mother's mother's fairy Tales
The angels watching over me to hold me as I sleep the father with the Earth in hands My soul is his to keep My mother's mother's fairy tales her daughters blinding trust When tragedy and misery convince her that she must In wooden pews and basement rooms with bible tightly clutched I listened to the fairy tales, the fables forming rust On alter I held out my hands to catch the chunk of bread That pastor always said to me where flesh of the son long dead Fifteen years of song and dance Fifteen years of grace Fifteen years spent listening their stories gone to waste But the world grows larger the questions too and the faith is quickly lost replaced by science, philosophy common sense dethrones the cross I want so desperately to believe for your sake more than mine Eternal life is a dream to me but I hate to see you cry My mother's mother passed her faith by my mother I have failed She prays for me each day and night but her worries I can't assail Oh mother, mother can't you see this faith is yours not mine The word of God is not enough but maybe, give me time. Angels I have heard on high in God I place my trust It's the son, the cross, that I decline He's your savior, not mine. As angels lay me down to sleep I hope one day you'll see My mother's mother's parables lend no comfort to me Oh mother, mother can't you see it kills me when you pray for something I cannot give you and by each passing day your expectations grind at me they make it hard to stay Oh mother, mother I'm begging you don't push me away The father watching over us holds me as I sleep and comforts me each night as my anxiety will creep into me heart, I trust in him but thats all I can give let it be enough for you I'm trying, let me live.
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Ring ring, screamed the teens phone, Ding **** cried the bell, No ones answered a door for a friend, Since the great wifi curtain fell, Pay no attention to what you can be, A wonderful world awaits, Ran by blood and money, Oh! The beauty of business baits, The one true God, the almighty dollar, Dethrones that fraud. And silences a Hollar. Why feed the hungry, When you can feed yourself, Why give clean water, When you can stock your shelf? Well maybe I'm just tired, Of always making excuses, And maybe im just sick, Of the horrible things we do, I want a world desired, Otherwise we're all useless. I've given up on the ***** That claims he wants what's best for you.
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Mar 26, 2015
Mar 26, 2015 at 1:50 AM UTC
Sweet Dreams American Dreams.
A few hold a wall in front of them. Pretending to be someone they are not. Trying to impress the world. Trying to impress themselves. We sometimes try too hard to impress that we forget what we are doing. True friends "may" see through farcades, true friends "will" love you for who you are.... without the pretending. We stick ourselves in this teenage mindset, thinking that we have to be perfect, flaws are a bad thing. Life has ended before it could begin. We need to understand that facades, is not open, and dethrones our true nature. For one to love us we need to love yourselves first. ;)
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Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
The people facades.
one fair Sunday, air will flow beneath me I'll fly above palm trees and the blue sea so when sunrise dethrones the fireflies I'll be the eagle surfing sapphire skies but send an angel to teach me blasphemy as I'm mortal without the chemistry to soar up and touch heaven’s canopy God decrees 'humans aren't feathery' so, rise defiant and grow my wings through to glide as a jet, one man crew and say ‘I flew’ but when God gets a clue to what we do he will fire you and strike me through but not before that fair wind lifts my wings to see beyond the things fit just for kings
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May 7, 2025
May 7, 2025 at 9:53 AM UTC
fly away
I getting for the world, ready of the droll The time-traveling honors never flowed The feet on your flannel and the drink's in a smiling cup Of seminal poetry, and the frisky stations that keep your cuckoo rockin' In my present state of mind in the frame of the dogma The dogs of the militants and edicts of the enemy Listing your killings like the million operations Like a speck of dust in the billions The thousands waste and die and roll in the deep Making my feet crawl in underwood for the dance In the floor of the stop and the eighteen run-outs And drive-ins could n't the flops and shows that sheet curled Of the bar that was dry, saying this will be the day that I bite Look if this ***** won't feel Like the records on the old store shelf, reading these books is like music The feelings so unusual, and the years are so beautiful Will you get older with the seams on your face which smile when Being at the broken edges seems right, I just about cut enough about How cute you look when you are mine, in this plasticine face Pinch of dust and light as leaves and the weather Light as a feather, the discord, and the beat goes on On a dethrones, the kings of their station of kings so cross Turning around a creamy ****** coming hard on With a hot fever and this unusual day will be when I die Living beyond my dignity, and the price and the rights I print According to my name, to fund it in vain and funnel it out Of luck and stunted growth and the shortness has got me in the breath
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Jul 25, 2019
Jul 25, 2019 at 5:59 PM UTC
Kakapoo Frisking
I getting for the world, ready of the droll The time-traveling honors never flowed The feet on your flannel and the drink's in a smiling cup Of seminal poetry, and the frisky stations that keep your cuckoo rockin' In my present state of mind in the frame of the dogma The dogs of the militants and edicts of the enemy Listing your killings like the million operations Like a speck of dust in the billions The thousands waste and die and roll in the deep Making my feet crawl in underwood for the dance In the floor of the stop and the eighteen run-outs And drive-ins could n't the flops and shows that sheet curled Of the bar that was dry, saying this will be the day that I bite Look if this ***** won't feel Like the records on the old store shelf, reading these books is like music The feelings so unusual, and the years are so beautiful Will you get older with the seams on your face which smile when Being at the broken edges seems right, I just about cut enough about How cute you look when you are mine, in this plasticine face Pinch of dust and light as leaves and the weather Light as a feather, the discord, and the beat goes on On a dethrones, the kings of their station of kings so cross Turning around a creamy ****** coming hard on With a hot fever and this unusual day will be when I die Living beyond my dignity, and the price and the rights I print According to my name, to fund it in vain and funnel it out Of luck and stunted growth and the shortness has got me in the breath
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