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"dominions" poems
Hymn to Aphrodite by Sappho loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor! Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress, and beguiler! I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer with love's anguish! But come to me once again in kindness, heeding my prayers as you have done before; O, come Divine One, descend once again from heaven's golden dominions! Your chariot yoked to love's consecrated doves, their multitudinous pinions aflutter, you once came gliding from the utmost heights, to the dark-bosomed earth. Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you, O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful, asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me to cry out. Asking me what I sought in my hopeless, bewildered desire. Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed, my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion summon here?" "Though today she flees love, soon she will pursue you; spurning love's gifts, soon she shall return them; tomorrow she will woo you, however unwillingly!" Come to me now, most Holy Aphrodite! Release me from my heavy heartache and anguish; grant me all I request, be once again my ally and protector! "Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his "On Literary Composition," published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, "Hymn to Aphrodite" may have been composed for performance within the cult. We do know that Sappho was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called "the Tenth Muse" and the other nine were goddesses. Keywords/Tags: Sapphic, Sappho, ****** translation, ancient Greek, hymn, Aphrodite, Zeus, daughter, immortal, goddess, holy, lady, heaven, enchantress, enchantment, love potion, charm, spell, persuasion, beguiler, beguilement, mistress, discipline, ********** prayer, prayers, chariot, heaven, descent, ally, protector, lust, desire, passion, longing, *** crush, girlfriend, women, grief
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Mar 22, 2020
Mar 22, 2020 at 2:51 AM UTC
Sappho "Hymn to Aphrodite" translation
Hymn to Aphrodite by Sappho loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor! Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress, and beguiler! I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer with love's anguish! But come to me once again in kindness, heeding my prayers as you have done before; O, come Divine One, descend once again from heaven's golden dominions! Your chariot yoked to love's consecrated doves, their multitudinous pinions aflutter, you once came gliding from the utmost heights, to the dark-bosomed earth. Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you, O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful, asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me to cry out. Asking me what I sought in my hopeless, bewildered desire. Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed, my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion summon here?" "Though today she flees love, soon she will pursue you; spurning love's gifts, soon she shall return them; tomorrow she will woo you, however unwillingly!" Come to me now, most Holy Aphrodite! Release me from my heavy heartache and anguish; grant me all I request, be once again my ally and protector! "Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his "On Literary Composition," published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, "Hymn to Aphrodite" may have been composed for performance within the cult. We do know that Sappho was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called "the Tenth Muse" and the other nine were goddesses. Keywords/Tags: Sapphic, Sappho, ****** translation, ancient Greek, hymn, Aphrodite, Zeus, daughter, immortal, goddess, holy, lady, heaven, enchantress, enchantment, love potion, charm, spell, persuasion, beguiler, beguilement, mistress, discipline, ********** prayer, prayers, chariot, heaven, descent, ally, protector, lust, desire, passion, longing, *** crush, girlfriend, women, grief
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32
299 Your Riches—taught me—Poverty. Myself—a Millionaire In little Wealths, as Girls could boast Till broad as Buenos Ayre— You drifted your Dominions— A Different Peru— And I esteemed All Poverty For Life’s Estate with you— Of Mines, I little know—myself— But just the names, of Gems— The Colors of the Commonest— And scarce of Diadems— So much, that did I meet the Queen— Her Glory I should know— But this, must be a different Wealth— To miss it—beggars so— I’m sure ’tis India—all Day— To those who look on You— Without a stint—without a blame, Might I—but be the Jew— I’m sure it is Golconda— Beyond my power to deem— To have a smile for Mine—each Day, How better, than a Gem! At least, it solaces to know That there exists—a Gold— Altho’ I prove it, just in time Its distance—to behold— Its far—far Treasure to surmise— And estimate the Pearl— That slipped my simple fingers through— While just a Girl at School.
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Your Riches—taught me—Poverty
Hymn to Aphrodite by Sappho (her only complete poem) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor! Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress, and beguiler! I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer with love's anguish! But come to me once again in kindness, heeding my prayers as you have done before; O, come Divine One, descend once again from heaven's golden dominions! Your chariot yoked to love's consecrated doves, their multitudinous pinions aflutter, you once came gliding from the utmost heights, to this dark earth. Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you, O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful, asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me to cry out. Asking me what I sought in my hopeless, bewildered desire. Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed, my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion summon here?" "Though today she flees love, soon she will pursue you; spurning love's gifts, she soon shall return them; tomorrow she will woo you, however unwillingly!" Come to me now, most Holy Aphrodite! Release me from my heavy heartache and anguish; grant me all I request, be once again my ally and protector! "Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his "On Literary Composition," published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, "Hymn to Aphrodite" may have been composed for performance within the cult. We do know that Sappho was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called "the Tenth Muse" and the other nine were goddesses. Keywords/Tags: Sapphic, Sappho, ****** translation, ancient Greek, hymn, Aphrodite, Zeus, daughter, immortal, goddess, holy, lady, heaven, enchantress, enchantment, love potion, charm, spell, persuasion, beguiler, beguilement, mistress, discipline, ********** prayer, prayers, chariot, heaven, descent, ally, protector, lust, desire, passion, longing, *** crush, girlfriend, women, grief
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Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 10:53 PM UTC
Sappho of ****** "Hymn to Aphrodite" translation
Hymn to Aphrodite by Sappho (her only complete poem) loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch Immortal Aphrodite, throned in splendor! Wile-weaving daughter of Zeus, enchantress, and beguiler! I implore you, dread mistress, discipline me no longer with love's anguish! But come to me once again in kindness, heeding my prayers as you have done before; O, come Divine One, descend once again from heaven's golden dominions! Your chariot yoked to love's consecrated doves, their multitudinous pinions aflutter, you once came gliding from the utmost heights, to this dark earth. Swiftly they came and vanished, leaving you, O my Goddess, smiling, your face eternally beautiful, asking me what unfathomable longing compelled me to cry out. Asking me what I sought in my hopeless, bewildered desire. Asking, "Who has harmed you, why are you so alarmed, my poor Sappho? Whom should Persuasion summon here?" "Though today she flees love, soon she will pursue you; spurning love's gifts, she soon shall return them; tomorrow she will woo you, however unwillingly!" Come to me now, most Holy Aphrodite! Release me from my heavy heartache and anguish; grant me all I request, be once again my ally and protector! "Hymn to Aphrodite" is the only poem by Sappho of ****** to survive in its entirety. The poem survived intact because it was quoted in full by Dionysus, a Roman orator, in his "On Literary Composition," published around 30 B.C. A number of Sappho's poems mention or are addressed to Aphrodite, the Greek goddess of love. It is believed that Sappho may have belonged to a cult that worshiped Aphrodite with songs and poetry. If so, "Hymn to Aphrodite" may have been composed for performance within the cult. We do know that Sappho was held in very high regard. For instance, when Sappho visited Syracuse the residents were so honored they erected a statue to commemorate the occasion! During Sappho's lifetime, coins of ****** were minted with her image. Furthermore, Sappho was called "the Tenth Muse" and the other nine were goddesses. Keywords/Tags: Sapphic, Sappho, ****** translation, ancient Greek, hymn, Aphrodite, Zeus, daughter, immortal, goddess, holy, lady, heaven, enchantress, enchantment, love potion, charm, spell, persuasion, beguiler, beguilement, mistress, discipline, ********** prayer, prayers, chariot, heaven, descent, ally, protector, lust, desire, passion, longing, *** crush, girlfriend, women, grief
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32
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi and Tian the low speaking And “we are unknown,” said Kung, “You will take up charioteering? “Then you will become known, “Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery? “Or the practice of public speaking?” And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,” And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province “I would put it in better order than this is.” And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple, “With order in the observances, with a suitable performance of the ritual,” And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute The low sounds continuing after his hand left the strings, And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves, And he looked after the sound: “The old swimming hole, “And the boys flopping off the planks, “Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.” And Kung smiled upon all of them equally. And Thseng-sie desired to know: “Which had answered correctly?” And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly, “That is to say, each in his nature.” And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang, Yuan Jang being his elder, For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to be receiving wisdom. And Kung said “You old fool, come out of it, “Get up and do something useful.” And Kung said “Respect a child’s faculties “From the moment it inhales the clear air, “But a man of fifty who knows nothng Is worthy of no respect.” And “When the prince has gathered about him “All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.” And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves: If a man have not order within him He can not spread order about him; And if a man have not order within him His family will not act with due order; And if the prince have not order within him He can not put order in his dominions. And Kung gave the words “order” and “brotherly deference” And said nothing of the “life after death.” And he said “Anyone can run to excesses, “It is easy to shoot past the mark, “It is hard to stand firm in the middle.” And they said: If a man commit ****** Should his father protect him, and hide him? And Kung said: He should hide him. And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang Although Kong-Tchang was in prison. And he gave his niece to Nan-Young although Nan-Young was out of office. And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation, “In his day the State was well kept, “And even I can remember “A day when the historians left blanks in their writings, “I mean, for things they didn’t know, “But that time seems to be passing. A day when the historians left blanks in their writings, But that time seems to be passing.” And Kung said, “Without character you will “be unable to play on that instrument “Or to execute the music fit for the Odes. “The blossoms of the apricot “blow from the east to the west, “And I have tried to keep them from falling.”
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Canto 13
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi and Tian the low speaking And “we are unknown,” said Kung, “You will take up charioteering? “Then you will become known, “Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery? “Or the practice of public speaking?” And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,” And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province “I would put it in better order than this is.” And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple, “With order in the observances, with a suitable performance of the ritual,” And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute The low sounds continuing after his hand left the strings, And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves, And he looked after the sound: “The old swimming hole, “And the boys flopping off the planks, “Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.” And Kung smiled upon all of them equally. And Thseng-sie desired to know: “Which had answered correctly?” And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly, “That is to say, each in his nature.” And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang, Yuan Jang being his elder, For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to be receiving wisdom. And Kung said “You old fool, come out of it, “Get up and do something useful.” And Kung said “Respect a child’s faculties “From the moment it inhales the clear air, “But a man of fifty who knows nothng Is worthy of no respect.” And “When the prince has gathered about him “All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.” And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves: If a man have not order within him He can not spread order about him; And if a man have not order within him His family will not act with due order; And if the prince have not order within him He can not put order in his dominions. And Kung gave the words “order” and “brotherly deference” And said nothing of the “life after death.” And he said “Anyone can run to excesses, “It is easy to shoot past the mark, “It is hard to stand firm in the middle.” And they said: If a man commit ****** Should his father protect him, and hide him? And Kung said: He should hide him. And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang Although Kong-Tchang was in prison. And he gave his niece to Nan-Young although Nan-Young was out of office. And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation, “In his day the State was well kept, “And even I can remember “A day when the historians left blanks in their writings, “I mean, for things they didn’t know, “But that time seems to be passing. A day when the historians left blanks in their writings, But that time seems to be passing.” And Kung said, “Without character you will “be unable to play on that instrument “Or to execute the music fit for the Odes. “The blossoms of the apricot “blow from the east to the west, “And I have tried to keep them from falling.”
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80
Hey, i want to speak with honesty, I dont know what i would do without poetry, Feel like i won a lottery, all because of word pottery, a mind free is all, expressing secrets from the soul, With a careful craft of the beat, music is born from the art, Therapy in psychiatry, aesthetic in phylosophy , People love and fight, Some just live to hate, oppositions and dominions, Opinions and religions, But poetry and music lives, lifetimes and lifetimes with love, and nomatter the weather it shall always bring humanity together
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Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
word pottery
A thousand angry fingers are fighting. "I’m right! Im right! There’s wrong in your writing.” There’s a war of opinion, it's a slaughter of facts,   as fearful dominions blame who they can for the acts of hate that they scrape across our tired eyes; and as we try and decipher truth from the lies. So soon people point, push, drag and despise anyone they believe to be the devil in disguise.   “ Hang them, hit them, beat them down. Don’t let another one of ‘those' in my good town”.   I tried to tie my own tongue and keep quiet. But my fingers felt need to fight in this riot. Though I am not seeking a thumb from anyone, I was beginning to fear I was a disloyal son; for our mother is weeping for every child. Whether radical, righteous, anxious or mild.   She’s worried this war, like a fire in the wild, won’t stop until all is consumed but the ash that is piled. “ Stop this! Stop this! My dear children!   Life is so much more than the motives of men" And I watch this war from a cafe in Glasgow; outside enjoying coffee, crisps and tobacco. The smoke swirls my head into a strange sense of comfort, as before my eyes I watch my own world distort.   Where political posts attempt to equal social justice. Where blood, bodies and bombings add to our numbness. Where others opinions slowly shape and become us. Where poets lack rhyme, guidance or substance. Where In friends we see foes, and in fellow citizens: dangers. Where we speak with our fingers, and to ourselves become strangers.
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Nov 15, 2015
Nov 15, 2015 at 9:32 AM UTC
Sat 14th: Just Gone Midnight.
A thousand angry fingers are fighting. "I’m right! Im right! There’s wrong in your writing.” There’s a war of opinion, it's a slaughter of facts,   as fearful dominions blame who they can for the acts of hate that they scrape across our tired eyes; and as we try and decipher truth from the lies. So soon people point, push, drag and despise anyone they believe to be the devil in disguise.   “ Hang them, hit them, beat them down. Don’t let another one of ‘those' in my good town”.   I tried to tie my own tongue and keep quiet. But my fingers felt need to fight in this riot. Though I am not seeking a thumb from anyone, I was beginning to fear I was a disloyal son; for our mother is weeping for every child. Whether radical, righteous, anxious or mild.   She’s worried this war, like a fire in the wild, won’t stop until all is consumed but the ash that is piled. “ Stop this! Stop this! My dear children!   Life is so much more than the motives of men" And I watch this war from a cafe in Glasgow; outside enjoying coffee, crisps and tobacco. The smoke swirls my head into a strange sense of comfort, as before my eyes I watch my own world distort.   Where political posts attempt to equal social justice. Where blood, bodies and bombings add to our numbness. Where others opinions slowly shape and become us. Where poets lack rhyme, guidance or substance. Where In friends we see foes, and in fellow citizens: dangers. Where we speak with our fingers, and to ourselves become strangers.
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30
if you kiss a statue in the dark,does it leave a mark?like the moonlight's cold stain on pale columns of necks and thinner bones of knuckles,or like the heavy-handed cracks on thighs and mine own,leaking gold to match._it's easy to admit a mistake in the dark_ is what you say,but marble lips leave little space for contrition.there's irony in that,in rennaisance-made lovers who screamed for dominions and settled in ash instead.history is adjusted,and the cycle continues.but they left their jaws open,and the light is pouring out.
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Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
statue in medias res
Taffeta dress. Pink bows and ribbons, Plaited elegantly through her shiny hair. Shoes made of crystal glass. Azure eyes that allure. Princes and spinsters. All vying for love. In ball gowns. Feel the frowns. The pauper descends. Out of place, amid friends. Pretences of sisters who whisper and moan. Two sisters and mother that clamour the throne. They're trying for love. Met on the staircase. We really don't really care case. Sisters on ladders of heels,as they stagger . Their mouths filthy as bladders and bowels. Nasty creatures. Vile in lust. Lustful greed. Maternal demon seed. Stepmother, toxically crumbles to dust. Crone godmother. A quick sip of milk. Cinderella my lovely became but a sylph. Dispelled stepmother and daughter's that cussed. Transport to the princes ball. In a pumpkin, should maybe have been made into a sickly sweet pie. Lizards as footmen, stood fast on the back on the coach pulled by white mice. The creatures were shocked. By the changes, all the rearrangements. Built up with Cinderella before, a creature comfort kind of rapport. Be back by midnight said the fairy godmother, she knew he'd really grow to love her. Midnight came midnight went. A glorious evening only lent. She tripped on the stair, Nobody cared, except the prince and cute cinders. She lost her shoe, in a hurry to flee. Prince himself picked it up, unable to believe in lady luck was meant to be. He searched his dominions far and wide, just to find his princess bride. All the best things found in fairy tales. What do I find? Just slugs and snails. Yep, you guessed it I'm a bit of a cynic. (c)Livvi MMCV
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May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 2:07 PM UTC
MOVIE INSPIRATION
Taffeta dress. Pink bows and ribbons, Plaited elegantly through her shiny hair. Shoes made of crystal glass. Azure eyes that allure. Princes and spinsters. All vying for love. In ball gowns. Feel the frowns. The pauper descends. Out of place, amid friends. Pretences of sisters who whisper and moan. Two sisters and mother that clamour the throne. They're trying for love. Met on the staircase. We really don't really care case. Sisters on ladders of heels,as they stagger . Their mouths filthy as bladders and bowels. Nasty creatures. Vile in lust. Lustful greed. Maternal demon seed. Stepmother, toxically crumbles to dust. Crone godmother. A quick sip of milk. Cinderella my lovely became but a sylph. Dispelled stepmother and daughter's that cussed. Transport to the princes ball. In a pumpkin, should maybe have been made into a sickly sweet pie. Lizards as footmen, stood fast on the back on the coach pulled by white mice. The creatures were shocked. By the changes, all the rearrangements. Built up with Cinderella before, a creature comfort kind of rapport. Be back by midnight said the fairy godmother, she knew he'd really grow to love her. Midnight came midnight went. A glorious evening only lent. She tripped on the stair, Nobody cared, except the prince and cute cinders. She lost her shoe, in a hurry to flee. Prince himself picked it up, unable to believe in lady luck was meant to be. He searched his dominions far and wide, just to find his princess bride. All the best things found in fairy tales. What do I find? Just slugs and snails. Yep, you guessed it I'm a bit of a cynic. (c)Livvi MMCV
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46
247 What would I give to see his face? I’d give—I’d give my life—of course— But that is not enough! Stop just a minute—let me think! I’d give my biggest Bobolink! That makes two—Him—and Life! You know who “June” is— I’d give her— Roses a day from Zanzibar— And Lily tubes—like Wells— Bees—by the furlong— Straits of Blue Navies of Butterflies—sailed thro’— And dappled Cowslip Dells— Then I have “shares” in Primrose “Banks”— Daffodil Dowries—spicy “Stocks”— Dominions—broad as Dew— Bags of Doublons—adventurous Bees Brought me—from firmamental seas— And Purple—from Peru— Now—have I bought it— “Shylock”? Say! Sign me the Bond! “I vow to pay To Her—who pledges this— One hour—of her Sovereign’s face”! Ecstatic Contract! Niggard Grace! My Kingdom’s worth of Bliss!
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What would I give to see his face?
By Joseph Childress “Habeus corpus!!!” Yelled in court From some youngin’ In the back row As he rose With a roll of parchment The constitution laid dead in his hold . A gleam seen in the judge’s eyes As he glances, quickly Behind glasses While guards escort The disrupter of courts To the unknown . All hail the corpse of freedom! Warranted from the lack of warnings All hell: The corporate companies cooperating In coup d’etats Disguised as peace keepings Offering the Sacrificial kings of Africa Offing the Head of state In a distasteful display of feardom Fear dominates The war on terrorism Military minions pillage the dominions Of the defenseless The final blow Screams Like the Final Call In the falling of an empire Protesters test the unrest And spread Words That are read In the weaving of our future Detention Sit-ins for those who Speak during class warfare Constitutions re-written To constitute illegal imprisonment Of free Speakers, Thinkers, And believers Citizens find it harder To not pay attention When the war in the Middle East Is fought in America Patriotic Acts to enact Unpatriotic actions That exact Hate on the coward-less fraction Surveillanced As if ass-kissing will ever be in option They’re warning us To stay sleep with the rest Those who awake Will meet a force Worse Than the crusades As they raid the houses Of our brothers, sisters, and Controversial, conspiracy contriving cousins They will come Like thieves in the night To undue The debt due to society The battle begins, And the Martyrs are ready.
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Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Indefinite Definition
By Joseph Childress “Habeus corpus!!!” Yelled in court From some youngin’ In the back row As he rose With a roll of parchment The constitution laid dead in his hold . A gleam seen in the judge’s eyes As he glances, quickly Behind glasses While guards escort The disrupter of courts To the unknown . All hail the corpse of freedom! Warranted from the lack of warnings All hell: The corporate companies cooperating In coup d’etats Disguised as peace keepings Offering the Sacrificial kings of Africa Offing the Head of state In a distasteful display of feardom Fear dominates The war on terrorism Military minions pillage the dominions Of the defenseless The final blow Screams Like the Final Call In the falling of an empire Protesters test the unrest And spread Words That are read In the weaving of our future Detention Sit-ins for those who Speak during class warfare Constitutions re-written To constitute illegal imprisonment Of free Speakers, Thinkers, And believers Citizens find it harder To not pay attention When the war in the Middle East Is fought in America Patriotic Acts to enact Unpatriotic actions That exact Hate on the coward-less fraction Surveillanced As if ass-kissing will ever be in option They’re warning us To stay sleep with the rest Those who awake Will meet a force Worse Than the crusades As they raid the houses Of our brothers, sisters, and Controversial, conspiracy contriving cousins They will come Like thieves in the night To undue The debt due to society The battle begins, And the Martyrs are ready.
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73
Sagaciously gloaming melanite eyes Resonating euphoniously ululated memories; The shadow land of illusion Rising out of the ash of an acorn Wallowing in the blood of wars strident refuge, Gnomic relics errant of an Enigmatic almondine heart Offering an olive branch upon an Altar made of oak. A ruminantly nostalgic requiem Sedititiously traversing the firmament; Ineluctable reprobation Ineffably manifested, The doves of meta-morphosis Embracing the silk garments of love; Sound minds cacophany Devouring the delusional devout Veridically inspiring ascendancy Decieving serenities whisper throughout The dominions audaciously Rousing ambivalent fears. ELEETE J MUIR.
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Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
Enochian Samadhi
My soul is an enchanted boat, Which, like a sleeping swan, doth float Upon the silver waves of thy sweet singing; And thine doth like an angel sit Beside a helm conducting it, Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing. It seems to float ever, for ever, Upon that many-winding river, Between mountains, woods, abysses, A paradise of wildernesses! Till, like one in slumber bound, Borne to the ocean, I float down, around, Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound: Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinions In music’s most serene dominions; Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven. And we sail on, away, afar, Without a course, without a star, But, by the instinct of sweet music driven; Till through Elysian garden islets By thee, most beautiful of pilots, Where never mortal pinnace glided, The boat of my desire is guided: Realms where the air we breathe is love, Which in the winds and on the waves doth move, Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above. We have past Age’s icy caves, And Manhood’s dark and tossing waves, And Youth’s smooth ocean, smiling to betray: Beyond the glassy gulfs we flee Of shadow-peopled Infancy, Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day; A paradise of vaulted bowers, Lit by downward-gazing flowers, And watery paths that wind between Wildernesses calm and green, Peopled by shapes too bright to see, And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee; Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!
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Asia: From Prometheus Unbound
Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destin’d round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound. Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes: The angels view him with delight unknown, Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne; Then smilling thus: “To this divine abode, “The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God, “Thrice welcome thou.” The raptur’d babe replies, “Thanks to my God, who snatch’d me to the skies, “E’er vice triumphant had possess’d my heart, “E’er yet the tempter had beguil d my heart, “E’er yet on sin’s base actions I was bent, “E’er yet I knew temptation’s dire intent; “E’er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt, “E’er vanity had led my way to guilt, “But, soon arriv’d at my celestial goal, “Full glories rush on my expanding soul.” Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round Clapt their glad wings, the heav’nly vaults resound. Say, parents, why this unavailing moan? Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan? To Charles, the happy subject of my song, A brighter world, and nobler strains belong. Say would you tear him from the realms above By thoughtless wishes, and prepost’rous love? Doth his felicity increase your pain? Or could you welcome to this world again The heir of bliss? with a superior air Methinks he answers with a smile severe, “Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there.” But still you cry, “Can we the sigh borbear, “And still and still must we not pour the tear? “Our only hope, more dear than vital breath, “Twelve moons revolv’d, becomes the prey of death; “Delightful infant, nightly visions give “Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive, “We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast, “The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest.” To yon bright regions let your faith ascend, Prepare to join your dearest infant friend In pleasures without measure, without end.
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2.5k
A Funeral Poem On The Death Of C. E., An Infant Of Twelve Months
Through airy roads he wings his instant flight To purer regions of celestial light; Enlarg’d he sees unnumber’d systems roll, Beneath him sees the universal whole, Planets on planets run their destin’d round, And circling wonders fill the vast profound. Th’ ethereal now, and now th’ empyreal skies With growing splendors strike his wond’ring eyes: The angels view him with delight unknown, Press his soft hand, and seat him on his throne; Then smilling thus: “To this divine abode, “The seat of saints, of seraphs, and of God, “Thrice welcome thou.” The raptur’d babe replies, “Thanks to my God, who snatch’d me to the skies, “E’er vice triumphant had possess’d my heart, “E’er yet the tempter had beguil d my heart, “E’er yet on sin’s base actions I was bent, “E’er yet I knew temptation’s dire intent; “E’er yet the lash for horrid crimes I felt, “E’er vanity had led my way to guilt, “But, soon arriv’d at my celestial goal, “Full glories rush on my expanding soul.” Joyful he spoke: exulting cherubs round Clapt their glad wings, the heav’nly vaults resound. Say, parents, why this unavailing moan? Why heave your pensive bosoms with the groan? To Charles, the happy subject of my song, A brighter world, and nobler strains belong. Say would you tear him from the realms above By thoughtless wishes, and prepost’rous love? Doth his felicity increase your pain? Or could you welcome to this world again The heir of bliss? with a superior air Methinks he answers with a smile severe, “Thrones and dominions cannot tempt me there.” But still you cry, “Can we the sigh borbear, “And still and still must we not pour the tear? “Our only hope, more dear than vital breath, “Twelve moons revolv’d, becomes the prey of death; “Delightful infant, nightly visions give “Thee to our arms, and we with joy receive, “We fain would clasp the Phantom to our breast, “The Phantom flies, and leaves the soul unblest.” To yon bright regions let your faith ascend, Prepare to join your dearest infant friend In pleasures without measure, without end.
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46
we are pieces of stars dominions of God the ocean abides this moment alive the change that collides all the beauty inside only pieces of stars
0
Feb 12, 2011
Feb 12, 2011 at 12:57 PM UTC
Only Pieces of Stars
Your travel has given me freedom. But what is freedom when you possess a soul divided? What is the chronic sea without its unfathomable dominions? My soul is thirsty for you. My cold and naked ankles mope around your desolated castle; Jinn, dust, and piercing silence is all that echoes in this darkened dungeon that I have succumbed to. And then there is me. A heavy-laden wasted artist with Spiny paintbrushes and faded color. I refuse to leave the spaces that you read and play. I refuse to exhale the memories of your sky painted blue irises. My skin hungers for your delicate surface. My teeth long to bite into your fleshy thighs. In the hour of the noontide I feel you most For our souls sahasrara blooms colorfully in the hour Of the sun-the ancient mother of our roots weaves Love with all of loves children and meets us with pneumatic cosmic kisses. This is when I feel closest to you. Without you, the world is just as it seems; the sun burned into cinders, Leaving the crops belonging to the sacred soils of my flesh to prune and wither . Ay! the droughts that you spread with your distance. These are the days of my reaping These are the days of my sulking. The gardens are now closed and the black raven cries out to a mournful mothers son. Your scent died along with the laughter of the flowers And the butterflies wont even flutter Without your lovely eyelash kisses. To live another day without the energy Your presence fills my heart with, Is to live an eternity hugging Your coffin with sobbing rage; fain would I take deaths hand. The suffering of your glorious dawn Wedded the universe deep beneath my skin. You are the light, And the absence of your holiness leaves me opaque and hollow. In my solitude I have watched the hours burn And in each hour your fragrant sighs escape with the dust motes Surrounding the beaming light that breaks through the cracks of the curtains. I sit in the depth of myself And listen for the echoes of your sounds. A mother am I and a pitiful one too. Like the rawboned mother with sunken eyes carrying a baby in the womb, draining all of the nutrition her body has to offer, Your distance maps a massacred trail Of my health and happiness. You are the mother of patience And the descendent of beauty and love. You are the tsunami, and the still waters. You are the uprising cub leading and mending. You are the sap that feeds the giving tree of life. You are the prince of wisdom. You are My flesh In purest form. - Arizona
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Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 8:37 AM UTC
About a Boy
Your travel has given me freedom. But what is freedom when you possess a soul divided? What is the chronic sea without its unfathomable dominions? My soul is thirsty for you. My cold and naked ankles mope around your desolated castle; Jinn, dust, and piercing silence is all that echoes in this darkened dungeon that I have succumbed to. And then there is me. A heavy-laden wasted artist with Spiny paintbrushes and faded color. I refuse to leave the spaces that you read and play. I refuse to exhale the memories of your sky painted blue irises. My skin hungers for your delicate surface. My teeth long to bite into your fleshy thighs. In the hour of the noontide I feel you most For our souls sahasrara blooms colorfully in the hour Of the sun-the ancient mother of our roots weaves Love with all of loves children and meets us with pneumatic cosmic kisses. This is when I feel closest to you. Without you, the world is just as it seems; the sun burned into cinders, Leaving the crops belonging to the sacred soils of my flesh to prune and wither . Ay! the droughts that you spread with your distance. These are the days of my reaping These are the days of my sulking. The gardens are now closed and the black raven cries out to a mournful mothers son. Your scent died along with the laughter of the flowers And the butterflies wont even flutter Without your lovely eyelash kisses. To live another day without the energy Your presence fills my heart with, Is to live an eternity hugging Your coffin with sobbing rage; fain would I take deaths hand. The suffering of your glorious dawn Wedded the universe deep beneath my skin. You are the light, And the absence of your holiness leaves me opaque and hollow. In my solitude I have watched the hours burn And in each hour your fragrant sighs escape with the dust motes Surrounding the beaming light that breaks through the cracks of the curtains. I sit in the depth of myself And listen for the echoes of your sounds. A mother am I and a pitiful one too. Like the rawboned mother with sunken eyes carrying a baby in the womb, draining all of the nutrition her body has to offer, Your distance maps a massacred trail Of my health and happiness. You are the mother of patience And the descendent of beauty and love. You are the tsunami, and the still waters. You are the uprising cub leading and mending. You are the sap that feeds the giving tree of life. You are the prince of wisdom. You are My flesh In purest form. - Arizona
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67
Separation based on physicality This is a ******* up reality Supposed incompetence built up a fence ****** differences I guess, shall decide your intellects Now, do these views, say more about me or more about you? I ponder your opinion, and wonder how you use that to rule us into our separated dominions How is this decided, that I'm lesser than a man, when clearly I am just as human? I know I sound feminist, please tell me how being a woman is a cause for dismiss? I despise these sexiest views, because I am no less than you That is false, not true, you sound like an idiot because you have no clue You believe I should do this or sit like that Well I don't agree, quite frankly that's not me I like to sit like a "boy", and I don't give a **** if it's you I annoy I'll wear boxer shorts and I'll build my own forts I won't be submissive I'll be permissive I'll beat you at any game, I'm a lion and never tame This is silly, I'm no ***** nilly, I know how to think on my own Much to your disgust, I find this to be a must Separation based on physicality, what a ******* up reality.
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Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
Realities
343 My Reward for Being, was This. My premium—My Bliss— An Admiralty, less— A Sceptre—penniless— And Realms—just Dross— When Thrones accost my Hands— With “Me, Miss, Me”— I’ll unroll Thee— Dominions dowerless—beside this Grace— Election—Vote— The Ballots of Eternity, will show just that.
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1.4k
My Reward for Being, was This
Is it ever too late to be circumspect-select? I asked myself. My semi-permeable state invites distasteful items to my plate. These careless hands of me are flying all about, opening all the gates. And who or what has called to order, set opinion, filed judgment, if not something of a lie and a hatred? Tries to tells me who I am and says: this and that is what I should rather be doing. At my frosty age, be a man. Get that straight. And when I have seen hands of others come, wishing to be as helpful, they flash their passports at my door. I shall deliberate and trust the simple and silent dominions of my house. Practice. What is it that I shall practice? I'll not tell more.
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May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Semi-permeable
sometimes I wonder why I bother to force myself to tell an other what are my feelings and opinions why do I struggle to attempt to phrase words that inhabitants of faraway dominions might also understand and not erase an alien text for lack of recognition of what it tries to say is it just egomaniacal vanity born of conviction that my words are so important that only nerds would not appreciate the wisdom inherent in my thoughts or is it logorrhea   the pathological obsession to spew forth words without control and flood the world and every living soul with streams of incoherent syntax without meaning I guess I write in order to communicate and share exchange ideas across all boundaries learning the thoughts of many different people and in the process become even more aware how much we share and have in common carrying away once more the recognition that division has always been       and still remains until this day the favorite tool of greedy politicians against which poets   firmly   should hold sway
0
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 5:44 PM UTC
why write anything?
Thou unrelenting Past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign. Far in thy realm withdrawn Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom, And glorious ages gone Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb. Childhood, with all its mirth, Youth, Manhood, Age, that draws us to the ground, And last, Man's Life on earth, Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound. Thou hast my better years, Thou hast my earlier friends--the good--the kind, Yielded to thee with tears-- The venerable form--the exalted mind. My spirit yearns to bring The lost ones back--yearns with desire intense, And struggles hard to wring Thy bolts apart, and pluck thy captives thence. In vain--thy gates deny All passage save to those who hence depart; Nor to the streaming eye Thou giv'st them back--nor to the broken heart. In thy abysses hide Beauty and excellence unknown--to thee Earth's wonder and her pride Are gathered, as the waters to the sea; Labours of good to man, Unpublished charity, unbroken faith,-- Love, that midst grief began, And grew with years, and faltered not in death. Full many a mighty name Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered; With thee are silent fame, Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared. Thine for a space are they-- Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last; Thy gates shall yet give way, Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past! All that of good and fair Has gone into thy womb from earliest time, Shall then come forth to wear The glory and the beauty of its prime. They have not perished--no! Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet, Smiles, radiant long ago, And features, the great soul's apparent seat. All shall come back, each tie Of pure affection shall be knit again; Alone shall Evil die, And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. And then shall I behold Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung, And her, who, still and cold, Fills the next grave--the beautiful and young.
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1.1k
The Past
Thou unrelenting Past! Strong are the barriers round thy dark domain, And fetters, sure and fast, Hold all that enter thy unbreathing reign. Far in thy realm withdrawn Old empires sit in sullenness and gloom, And glorious ages gone Lie deep within the shadow of thy womb. Childhood, with all its mirth, Youth, Manhood, Age, that draws us to the ground, And last, Man's Life on earth, Glide to thy dim dominions, and are bound. Thou hast my better years, Thou hast my earlier friends--the good--the kind, Yielded to thee with tears-- The venerable form--the exalted mind. My spirit yearns to bring The lost ones back--yearns with desire intense, And struggles hard to wring Thy bolts apart, and pluck thy captives thence. In vain--thy gates deny All passage save to those who hence depart; Nor to the streaming eye Thou giv'st them back--nor to the broken heart. In thy abysses hide Beauty and excellence unknown--to thee Earth's wonder and her pride Are gathered, as the waters to the sea; Labours of good to man, Unpublished charity, unbroken faith,-- Love, that midst grief began, And grew with years, and faltered not in death. Full many a mighty name Lurks in thy depths, unuttered, unrevered; With thee are silent fame, Forgotten arts, and wisdom disappeared. Thine for a space are they-- Yet shalt thou yield thy treasures up at last; Thy gates shall yet give way, Thy bolts shall fall, inexorable Past! All that of good and fair Has gone into thy womb from earliest time, Shall then come forth to wear The glory and the beauty of its prime. They have not perished--no! Kind words, remembered voices once so sweet, Smiles, radiant long ago, And features, the great soul's apparent seat. All shall come back, each tie Of pure affection shall be knit again; Alone shall Evil die, And Sorrow dwell a prisoner in thy reign. And then shall I behold Him, by whose kind paternal side I sprung, And her, who, still and cold, Fills the next grave--the beautiful and young.
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56
Nervous butterflies emerging from a chrysalis of chrysanthemum wings of doves. Flying towards burgeoning horizons fluttering erudite on solar winds lost amongst deranged proximities bounded by blackened skies Escaping realisation subterranean rainbows flicker in prismic identities diverging depleting diminishing deconstruction into distinctive dominions waning light that merges into surroundings (bound together by the unfortunicity of birth) [aren't all?] Falling since conception “all things are a part all things are apart” Loud crimson daylight excess is the prerogative of the crystalline ... time distances people such a petty quality one feels more distance by degrees the closer the surroundings. (and when I say dancing, I mean jumping through galaxies) [oh good, I am better at the latter] (it's like tumbling,) [was all there ever was] [a can? Or a cylindrical box of tin?] … … … [but I digress.] (My my my Don't touch the apple pie) [if you do I will cry antelope bones down a chalkboard.] (what?) [Screaming “sirens, sirens Sleeping alarm bells show me madness, I am cluttered”] there are no gods only pillars of marshmallow transforming, caressing endlessly -oliver and jonte
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Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
marshmellows
My eyes have encompassed all the world Surveying its glory and splendour Civilisations advance Society cultivating cultures Technology, created and innovated By human beings being knowledgeable Expanding capacity, capital, territory In terror, losing identity Working, moving, breathing They cry “Worthy!” But is this worthy? My eyes have encompassed all the earth Surveying her beauty, her majesty Mountains, hills, and forests of lush green Beasts and creatures of all shapes and sizes Oceans, seas, rivers, clear blue sky They all seem to cry “Worthy!” Is there more to this? My eyes gaze into the heavens Pondering all their mysteries Planets, systems, billions of stars Galaxies upon galaxies lightyears afar And I hear in the distance Echoes of angels and heavenly hosts Thrones, dominions, powers, rulers Saints and elders around a radiant throne They all cry “Worthy!” I bow my head in awe And in silence reflected What the measure of a man is worth In the grand scheme of things Where one exists amidst seven billion Working tirelessly to no end Amid a vast and glorious creation Which will all draw to an end Am I worthy? And I hear in the distance The one called Worthy seated on the throne Calls out to me “From the dust have I fashioned you Formed you into My image From the lowliest estate have I given you Heavenly heritage My child Once an outsider, an enemy have I bought you with my shed blood. You are made worthy For I am Worthy As with all who are Mine. So define not your worth on futile things Or others who lack the clarity to see You are worthy As I am Worthy Worry not your worth Which is found only in Me”.
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Aug 14, 2021
Aug 14, 2021 at 8:24 AM UTC
Worthy!
My eyes have encompassed all the world Surveying its glory and splendour Civilisations advance Society cultivating cultures Technology, created and innovated By human beings being knowledgeable Expanding capacity, capital, territory In terror, losing identity Working, moving, breathing They cry “Worthy!” But is this worthy? My eyes have encompassed all the earth Surveying her beauty, her majesty Mountains, hills, and forests of lush green Beasts and creatures of all shapes and sizes Oceans, seas, rivers, clear blue sky They all seem to cry “Worthy!” Is there more to this? My eyes gaze into the heavens Pondering all their mysteries Planets, systems, billions of stars Galaxies upon galaxies lightyears afar And I hear in the distance Echoes of angels and heavenly hosts Thrones, dominions, powers, rulers Saints and elders around a radiant throne They all cry “Worthy!” I bow my head in awe And in silence reflected What the measure of a man is worth In the grand scheme of things Where one exists amidst seven billion Working tirelessly to no end Amid a vast and glorious creation Which will all draw to an end Am I worthy? And I hear in the distance The one called Worthy seated on the throne Calls out to me “From the dust have I fashioned you Formed you into My image From the lowliest estate have I given you Heavenly heritage My child Once an outsider, an enemy have I bought you with my shed blood. You are made worthy For I am Worthy As with all who are Mine. So define not your worth on futile things Or others who lack the clarity to see You are worthy As I am Worthy Worry not your worth Which is found only in Me”.
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59
To thy Saints and Faithful brethren in Christ who are in Colosse* Grace to You and Peace from GOD Our Father and Lord Jesus Christ We gove thanks to thy GOD and Father Of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Praying Always for Thee* Since we heard of thy Faith in Christ Jesus and Of thy Love for all the Saints* Because of thy Hope which is Laid Up for Thee in Heaven, of which Thou heard before in the Word Of Truth Of Thy Gospel* Which has come to Thee, as it has also in All the World, and is Bringing Forth Fruit, as it is also among Thee since thy Day Thou heard and knew Thy Grace Of GOD In Truth* As thou also Learned from Epaphras, our Dear Fellow Servant, who is A Faithful Minister Of Christ on Thou Behalf* Who also Declared to Us thy Love in the Spirit* For this Reason we also Since the day we heard it, do not Cease to Pray for Thee, and to ask that thou maybe Filled with thy Knowledge Of His will in All Wisdom and Spiritual Understanding* That thou may Walk Worthy of thy LORD, Fully Pleasing Him, Being Fruitful in Every Good Work and Increasing in thy Knowledge Of GOD* Strengthened with all Might, According to His Glorious Power, for all Patience and Long-suffering with Joy* Giving Thanks to thy Father who Has Qualified Us to be Partakers Of Thy Inheritance Of Thy Saints in thy Light* He has Delivered Us from thy Power Of Darkness and Conveyed Us into thy Kingdom Of Thy Son Of HIs Love* In whom we have Redemption through His Blood, Thy Forgiveness Of Sins* He is thy Image of thy First-born Over All Creation* For by Him All things were Created that are in Heaven and that are on Earth, Visible and Invisible, whether Thrones Or Dominions Or Principalities Or Powers* All things were Created through Him and For Him* And He is before All Things, and in Him all things Consist* And He is the Head Of thy Body, thy Church, who is the Beginning, Thy First-Born from thy Dead, that in all things He may have the Preeminence* for it pleased thy Father that in Him all thy Fullness should Dwell* And by Him to Reconcile all things to Himself, by Him, whether things on Earth or things in Heaven, having made Peace through thy Blood Of His Cross* And thou, who Once were Alienated and Enemies in thy Mind by Wicked Works, Yet now He has Reconciled* In thy Body of His Flesh through Death, to Present thee Holy, and Blameless, and Above Reproach in His Sight* If Indeed thou Continue in thy Faith, Grounded and Steadfast, and are not moved away from thy Hope of thy Gospel which thou Heard, which was Preached to every Creature under Heaven, of which thou Paul* Became A Minister* I now Rejoice in My Suffering for thee, and fill up in my Flesh what is Lacking in the Afflictions Of Christ, for thy sake of His Body, which is thy Church* Of which I Became A Minister According to the Stewardship from GOD which was given to Me for Thee, to Fulfil thy Word Of GOD* Thy Mystery which has Been Hidden from Ages and from Generations, but now has Been Revealed to His Saints* To Them GOD willed to make known what are thy Riches of thy Glory Of This Mystery among thy Gentiles' which is Christ In You, the Hope Of Glory* Him we Preach, Warning every Man and Teaching every Man in all Wisdom, that we may Present every Man Perfect in Christ Jesus.. To this End I Also Labor, Striving according to His Working which Works in Me Mightily** To GOD Be Thy Glory HALLELUYAH GOD Is Our Strength GOD Is Love GOD With Us GOD Bless
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Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 7:58 PM UTC
The Truth Is Bitter*
To thy Saints and Faithful brethren in Christ who are in Colosse* Grace to You and Peace from GOD Our Father and Lord Jesus Christ We gove thanks to thy GOD and Father Of Our Lord Jesus Christ, Praying Always for Thee* Since we heard of thy Faith in Christ Jesus and Of thy Love for all the Saints* Because of thy Hope which is Laid Up for Thee in Heaven, of which Thou heard before in the Word Of Truth Of Thy Gospel* Which has come to Thee, as it has also in All the World, and is Bringing Forth Fruit, as it is also among Thee since thy Day Thou heard and knew Thy Grace Of GOD In Truth* As thou also Learned from Epaphras, our Dear Fellow Servant, who is A Faithful Minister Of Christ on Thou Behalf* Who also Declared to Us thy Love in the Spirit* For this Reason we also Since the day we heard it, do not Cease to Pray for Thee, and to ask that thou maybe Filled with thy Knowledge Of His will in All Wisdom and Spiritual Understanding* That thou may Walk Worthy of thy LORD, Fully Pleasing Him, Being Fruitful in Every Good Work and Increasing in thy Knowledge Of GOD* Strengthened with all Might, According to His Glorious Power, for all Patience and Long-suffering with Joy* Giving Thanks to thy Father who Has Qualified Us to be Partakers Of Thy Inheritance Of Thy Saints in thy Light* He has Delivered Us from thy Power Of Darkness and Conveyed Us into thy Kingdom Of Thy Son Of HIs Love* In whom we have Redemption through His Blood, Thy Forgiveness Of Sins* He is thy Image of thy First-born Over All Creation* For by Him All things were Created that are in Heaven and that are on Earth, Visible and Invisible, whether Thrones Or Dominions Or Principalities Or Powers* All things were Created through Him and For Him* And He is before All Things, and in Him all things Consist* And He is the Head Of thy Body, thy Church, who is the Beginning, Thy First-Born from thy Dead, that in all things He may have the Preeminence* for it pleased thy Father that in Him all thy Fullness should Dwell* And by Him to Reconcile all things to Himself, by Him, whether things on Earth or things in Heaven, having made Peace through thy Blood Of His Cross* And thou, who Once were Alienated and Enemies in thy Mind by Wicked Works, Yet now He has Reconciled* In thy Body of His Flesh through Death, to Present thee Holy, and Blameless, and Above Reproach in His Sight* If Indeed thou Continue in thy Faith, Grounded and Steadfast, and are not moved away from thy Hope of thy Gospel which thou Heard, which was Preached to every Creature under Heaven, of which thou Paul* Became A Minister* I now Rejoice in My Suffering for thee, and fill up in my Flesh what is Lacking in the Afflictions Of Christ, for thy sake of His Body, which is thy Church* Of which I Became A Minister According to the Stewardship from GOD which was given to Me for Thee, to Fulfil thy Word Of GOD* Thy Mystery which has Been Hidden from Ages and from Generations, but now has Been Revealed to His Saints* To Them GOD willed to make known what are thy Riches of thy Glory Of This Mystery among thy Gentiles' which is Christ In You, the Hope Of Glory* Him we Preach, Warning every Man and Teaching every Man in all Wisdom, that we may Present every Man Perfect in Christ Jesus.. To this End I Also Labor, Striving according to His Working which Works in Me Mightily** To GOD Be Thy Glory HALLELUYAH GOD Is Our Strength GOD Is Love GOD With Us GOD Bless
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8
Let me count the ways to how much I love you so, the midnight glow in your eyes that hypnotize my mind, serene skies surrounding hazel designs, bushy eyebrows a wave of horizons shining down upon crowned creations, bright brilliant hues an infinite constellation of spectacular masterpieces, chiseled cheeks full of passion and vulnerability, smooth luscious lips an ocean of uncharted discoveries, upbeat chemistry and energy, various equations of infinity, as my heart sifts inside your impossible imagination wonderfully made.  Strong sloped shoulders, deep defined chests, angle lined waist, thick-veined ***** a sea of unimaginable inventions.   I can see within your flawless frame a world of glorious dominions bursting with strength and demand, seamless stances and enchantment, power and desire, insight and might, boldness and creativity, worker and teacher, father and fighter, uplifting and caressing, a blessing and a never-ending, loving and wanting, dreamer and designer, vivid and rare, a gleaming gem I won’t let go
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Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
Let Me Count The Ways