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"enshrines" poems
~ oh sun set at sunset, oh set sun divine; oh sun set at sunset, oh set sun on mine. each finger a print, each palm in your hands, each color a glint, from immeasurable sands. no out-of-time dance, ’tis artistic mystique, no step left to chance, it’s unveiling unique; each a palette’s adieu, as sunset's wine tips with a lover's, ‘helloo’, to kiss twilight lips. forever the lover, a gifting, a sign, as dusk throws its covers o’er the love it enshrines. oh sun set at sunset, my lover is you, oh sun set at sunset, 'sweetest dreams’ to you too. ~ *post script. watching a sunset always reminds me of the ardent kiss of two lover’s bidding each other, ’good night!’*
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May 10, 2015
May 10, 2015 at 11:22 PM UTC
sunset dreams
Saintly cassock, Glittering altar Ornamental pulpit.               Driving the congregants             in a paroxysm of fib, Gullibility enshrines adherents             hearts. Do you know the Messiah more             than the apostles ? Thou traders in the temple. Parrotic tongues set out             commands Loquacious sweet-coated mouths             misdirects faithfuls. But the uncreated Creator who             creates creatures watches Dreadful silence astonishingly             permeates the entireness            of the universe. Do you preach love? Do you follow peace with all? Ye robbers in the temple. Command darkness to produce             light. But you turned moonlight into             tale. Can you display Davidic dance             steps on the road? Profanity of sanctuary with             false homiletics. Merchants of dross in tabernacle Speak. Let us hear you. Preach To the congregants. Righteousness afar from the           apron of faith. Charity locked up in the           tunic of hope. Sanctity of holiness sprinkled           into the tributary of sin. Commanding the stars to turn            to sun, Captains of night in light. Ye robbers in the sanctuary. Pastoral advertisers of chattels            in the tabernacle, Merchandising gold dross in             sermonic hymns. Sugar-coated doctrine wept in              the tomb of Lazarus. Prompting Him to weep again? Ye merchants in synagogue. Disentangle faithfuls from the           webs of worriment. Dislodge congregants out of the           shackles of sin. Deliver ignoramus from the            isle of incendiary. Let the sifter of strength            separate out afflictions from            feebleminded faithfuls. Ye robbers in the temple You love prayers more than God But who answers prayers?
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Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
MERCHANTS IN THE TEMPLE
Saintly cassock, Glittering altar Ornamental pulpit.               Driving the congregants             in a paroxysm of fib, Gullibility enshrines adherents             hearts. Do you know the Messiah more             than the apostles ? Thou traders in the temple. Parrotic tongues set out             commands Loquacious sweet-coated mouths             misdirects faithfuls. But the uncreated Creator who             creates creatures watches Dreadful silence astonishingly             permeates the entireness            of the universe. Do you preach love? Do you follow peace with all? Ye robbers in the temple. Command darkness to produce             light. But you turned moonlight into             tale. Can you display Davidic dance             steps on the road? Profanity of sanctuary with             false homiletics. Merchants of dross in tabernacle Speak. Let us hear you. Preach To the congregants. Righteousness afar from the           apron of faith. Charity locked up in the           tunic of hope. Sanctity of holiness sprinkled           into the tributary of sin. Commanding the stars to turn            to sun, Captains of night in light. Ye robbers in the sanctuary. Pastoral advertisers of chattels            in the tabernacle, Merchandising gold dross in             sermonic hymns. Sugar-coated doctrine wept in              the tomb of Lazarus. Prompting Him to weep again? Ye merchants in synagogue. Disentangle faithfuls from the           webs of worriment. Dislodge congregants out of the           shackles of sin. Deliver ignoramus from the            isle of incendiary. Let the sifter of strength            separate out afflictions from            feebleminded faithfuls. Ye robbers in the temple You love prayers more than God But who answers prayers?
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65
The outlined shadows of angel-like apparitions, and I'm soaked in anxiety like the wingless houseflies, Where can I find peace in the midst of hell and nirvana? My soul is torn apart and my body a rigor mortis, I feel the blows under the baobab, Where is the Lord? Where is the God that sheds light? Where is the God that resuscitates dead souls? The devil has ****** my spirit in the dark hole, I'm now groping in the murk with my dogged effort, I have been a survivor of many months, of the battle between the devil and the many generations, the way to find peace is to rest in peace, No! And what about my mama? The divine lady who enshrines his son with a prayer, this woman tells me of how coward the devil is, she talks of the galaxies and the Hail Marys, But I'm not dead yet, she is the reason why I'm still alive, and why I should live to 72
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Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 4:47 AM UTC
My Battle
So you got robbed. Don't think of yourself as a victim. Look at it as an expression of the robber's occupational and social deficits. Don't let it traumatize you for life. After all, can you compare it to being murdered? We need to have some appreciation for scale here. We don't want to go back to the Victorian notion that people are fragile flowers who can't handle  having a gun pointed at them and losing a few dollars. That's a form of condescension, after all. You're complaining about a burglary? Some men see a mere doorknob lock as a flirtation. And surely we don't want to see the end of flirtations and seductions! Must we all now install deadbolts and security systems? What's next--chastity belts? What happened to joie de vivre and devil-may-care? So a drunk driver hit your car. Do you really want to have him arrested? It was a misunderstanding; he didn't realize that four cocktails and driving are technically illegal. And should they be? Do we want to criminalize ordinary reckless behavior? Haven't we all done something a bit foolish or clumsy in our younger days? Do we want a society in which everyone has to be careful what they do, all the time? A society in which people must count their drinks before getting behind the wheel? We are moving away from the ideals of a liberal democracy and toward totalitarianism!  So you were murdered. You can look at is as an opportunity to learn more about what happens after death. Your career was ended and your earthly form deteriorated, but that's not the end of the world. Now you live as a memory, and people appreciate you more. What doesn't **** you makes you stronger, and what kills you enshrines. There is honor in being dead. It is time we brought back the old virtues!
0
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
Catherine Deneuve's Next Letter
So you got robbed. Don't think of yourself as a victim. Look at it as an expression of the robber's occupational and social deficits. Don't let it traumatize you for life. After all, can you compare it to being murdered? We need to have some appreciation for scale here. We don't want to go back to the Victorian notion that people are fragile flowers who can't handle  having a gun pointed at them and losing a few dollars. That's a form of condescension, after all. You're complaining about a burglary? Some men see a mere doorknob lock as a flirtation. And surely we don't want to see the end of flirtations and seductions! Must we all now install deadbolts and security systems? What's next--chastity belts? What happened to joie de vivre and devil-may-care? So a drunk driver hit your car. Do you really want to have him arrested? It was a misunderstanding; he didn't realize that four cocktails and driving are technically illegal. And should they be? Do we want to criminalize ordinary reckless behavior? Haven't we all done something a bit foolish or clumsy in our younger days? Do we want a society in which everyone has to be careful what they do, all the time? A society in which people must count their drinks before getting behind the wheel? We are moving away from the ideals of a liberal democracy and toward totalitarianism!  So you were murdered. You can look at is as an opportunity to learn more about what happens after death. Your career was ended and your earthly form deteriorated, but that's not the end of the world. Now you live as a memory, and people appreciate you more. What doesn't **** you makes you stronger, and what kills you enshrines. There is honor in being dead. It is time we brought back the old virtues!
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4
I sit in front of the fire and think, of olden days, of yore. Of those moments which, by virtue of their power, still shine golden, or shimmer darkly, like ebony in a pool in the dying light, out of the mists of age and forget- fullness, this both a blessing and a curse, to one who has lived so long as I. For I have seen many triumphs and celebrations, and many more defeats and fruitless victories, these like the long dark shadow stretching out from the pillar of my accomplishments. This pillar is the anchor of my life; without it, I would be lost in the sea of my own wretched failures. And yet, still, from my vantage point atop that shining monument that enshrines all that was, is, and will be good in my life, still the shadow grows, along with the pillar itself, for though I have passed that point of sweet and soaring ****** at the epitome of my life, and have long since begun the descending spiral towards the grave, I am not yet dead. And yet, even as my pillar grows, so does my shadow, and its length grows longer as my years increase, and the memory of past failures compound one upon the other, until they are stretched far out to the distant horizon, and have filled it with darkness and shadows, for the sun is low, as my age ascends, and so the shadows lengthen. And yet. Through all of this, of the pain of my failures, of the tragedies of my defeats, of the defeats of others who were close to my heart, peace is with me, and I have no fear, and I am happy, and I give of myself to others, and expecting nothing, receive all, for the gratitude and happiness of others in response to ones generosity and love, is the greatest reward that one may hope to attain. For I do not dwell only in the past, but in the present, and do not impose worry and fear upon my soul through vain speculations of what the future may bring, and instead live in the present, and think on the past, and act according to what I believe to be right, before the eyes of man, and the eyes of God. And all is right with me, and I am happy, and as I sit here before the hearth, the fire leaping merrily, and crackling like a thousand distant fireworks, I smile, and sink softly into sleep.
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Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
An Old Man's Thoughts Before the Hearth
I sit in front of the fire and think, of olden days, of yore. Of those moments which, by virtue of their power, still shine golden, or shimmer darkly, like ebony in a pool in the dying light, out of the mists of age and forget- fullness, this both a blessing and a curse, to one who has lived so long as I. For I have seen many triumphs and celebrations, and many more defeats and fruitless victories, these like the long dark shadow stretching out from the pillar of my accomplishments. This pillar is the anchor of my life; without it, I would be lost in the sea of my own wretched failures. And yet, still, from my vantage point atop that shining monument that enshrines all that was, is, and will be good in my life, still the shadow grows, along with the pillar itself, for though I have passed that point of sweet and soaring ****** at the epitome of my life, and have long since begun the descending spiral towards the grave, I am not yet dead. And yet, even as my pillar grows, so does my shadow, and its length grows longer as my years increase, and the memory of past failures compound one upon the other, until they are stretched far out to the distant horizon, and have filled it with darkness and shadows, for the sun is low, as my age ascends, and so the shadows lengthen. And yet. Through all of this, of the pain of my failures, of the tragedies of my defeats, of the defeats of others who were close to my heart, peace is with me, and I have no fear, and I am happy, and I give of myself to others, and expecting nothing, receive all, for the gratitude and happiness of others in response to ones generosity and love, is the greatest reward that one may hope to attain. For I do not dwell only in the past, but in the present, and do not impose worry and fear upon my soul through vain speculations of what the future may bring, and instead live in the present, and think on the past, and act according to what I believe to be right, before the eyes of man, and the eyes of God. And all is right with me, and I am happy, and as I sit here before the hearth, the fire leaping merrily, and crackling like a thousand distant fireworks, I smile, and sink softly into sleep.
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19
Your lover’s drawing straws without you, better bid farewell; he’d never time for rhyme or reason, so it’s just as well. Slip out the curtained window quick, the future winks and calls, ignoring paths of pagan gods, where faulty footsteps fall. Identify faint flashbacks, cloaked and clustered in a heap and sort out those you treasure most, you need or long to keep; Forget about the epoch past, which wasn’t what you’d sought, pursue instead remaining dreams before they come to naught.             Reflect no more on what it was he’d meant for you,             strike out ahead where something waits, has sent for you. The graveyard night is haunted still, it hovers where you sleep recalling souvenirs amassed, the ones that made you weep. The poets poised in dungeon vaults, now growing old and bald, retrace their palsied pleas in dust, like those that you once scrawled. Except for runic proverbs carved on stone walls ill defined, assumptions will not dog you that you dare to leave behind.             The fortune-tellers waiting at the moat for you             read tarot cards while setting sail a boat for you. The road behind is empty now, the sky is painted black so gather all the wisdom gained, no time for looking back. Forego the prophets’ prophecies, so tempting to pursue - although they might be asked advice, they seldom have a clue. Reject the secrets they reveal, enveloped in their guile, which be betrayed between the tombs in ruins of their smile.             They’re waiting with a fractured rule of thumb for you             while beating on a perforated drum for you. A sand-glass dribbles distant dunes, the sun dial’s shadow’s late, so now’s the time for slipping through the open swinging gate. A joker wild defies the fools to read between the lines in search of cryptic radiance the future world enshrines - “the days ahead will wake again like waves before the dawn when picking up the pieces left behind a passing pawn.”             A noble knight awaits to clear the board for you             when, soon, a cup of nectar wine is poured for you.
0
Nov 28, 2020
Nov 28, 2020 at 7:59 PM UTC
They Wait For You
Your lover’s drawing straws without you, better bid farewell; he’d never time for rhyme or reason, so it’s just as well. Slip out the curtained window quick, the future winks and calls, ignoring paths of pagan gods, where faulty footsteps fall. Identify faint flashbacks, cloaked and clustered in a heap and sort out those you treasure most, you need or long to keep; Forget about the epoch past, which wasn’t what you’d sought, pursue instead remaining dreams before they come to naught.             Reflect no more on what it was he’d meant for you,             strike out ahead where something waits, has sent for you. The graveyard night is haunted still, it hovers where you sleep recalling souvenirs amassed, the ones that made you weep. The poets poised in dungeon vaults, now growing old and bald, retrace their palsied pleas in dust, like those that you once scrawled. Except for runic proverbs carved on stone walls ill defined, assumptions will not dog you that you dare to leave behind.             The fortune-tellers waiting at the moat for you             read tarot cards while setting sail a boat for you. The road behind is empty now, the sky is painted black so gather all the wisdom gained, no time for looking back. Forego the prophets’ prophecies, so tempting to pursue - although they might be asked advice, they seldom have a clue. Reject the secrets they reveal, enveloped in their guile, which be betrayed between the tombs in ruins of their smile.             They’re waiting with a fractured rule of thumb for you             while beating on a perforated drum for you. A sand-glass dribbles distant dunes, the sun dial’s shadow’s late, so now’s the time for slipping through the open swinging gate. A joker wild defies the fools to read between the lines in search of cryptic radiance the future world enshrines - “the days ahead will wake again like waves before the dawn when picking up the pieces left behind a passing pawn.”             A noble knight awaits to clear the board for you             when, soon, a cup of nectar wine is poured for you.
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34
Leaves   don't sink into oblivion autumn-pilgrim enshrines their colors in sacred place memory of summer
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Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 9:11 AM UTC
Leaves
The map is not the territory. The menu is not the meal. Cognitively, we dwell in a symbol-scape and easily mistake the signpost for the path. Spiritual and New Age medias offer signposts, but, if one enshrines the sign, it can make captive the one wishing to walk the path. Leaving the seeker abandoned of their journey for a golden calf. Really, all teachings are distractions from the Truth. Science and Spirituality are methods of inquiry and, surely, have little or nothing to do with watching videos on the internet.
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Mar 7, 2014
Mar 7, 2014 at 7:51 AM UTC
Distrackt
Mammy Jospehine, Death lingers on your breath; From every third sentence The untimely demise of a friend Is plucked from your alexandria And laid to rest in the London air. The engagement party became your wake; Gratitude came first, some qualifications second Since our celebrations reminded you of your reverend Who possessed your heart in full Until his tendons supporting you Severed clean when he rode a bit too quick Molding his Harley into the spine of bricks Previously the boundaries of your new home. Leaving the party in Cousin Jason's car The joy on your face seeped into my arm Revealing your age old scars. Praising the jollof rice and the confetti You stopped and realised you were indeed not ready To forget old Aunty Eunice Who welcomed her release from an unsteady mind. Even though I saw how much joy hurt I couldn't help but feel peaceful Because I know that your true strength Is your ability to know that persistence is evil. Yet your persistence Despite the toll its taken Enshrines your Friends In the Prism of your qualified lens.
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Sep 4, 2024
Sep 4, 2024 at 8:25 AM UTC
Mammy Josephine
Always be willing To exercise your mind Do not settle for mediocrity Be the one who enshrines You have the ability Go forward and conquer Believe that you can do it Be the one who prospers
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Apr 18, 2017
Apr 18, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
Always Be Willing
The burning sun is awake The hawks are awake The demons are awake The butterflies are awake. They are awake. Darkness enshrines, Rich, bright, darkness. Confusion and dazed franticity. Blinded and stumbling, They breathe, They are free. I am suffocated. Choking. And no one, Not even those who watched me swallow the air, Hear me gasp.
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Jun 7, 2019
Jun 7, 2019 at 5:42 AM UTC
Untitled
So it ends between us despite how reticent we've been your words were always dust; it's only now to be seen You wave the white flag and the mock surrender as I learn to burn you and rip all asunder your façade naught but a cheap, grey suit all show and no substance; your face resolute The urge now to burn you is humming in veins I know you so well mere words would stoke flames You are walking away and your shoulders fake low deep darkness enshrines the things that I know temptation to reveal and revel in raised words brews on inside me, I could make you hurt and how I wish to force you to admit your pretences call out the horrors you yourself pre-empted this is not all me, we two share the blame but in truth, yes biased, I know whose name should bare the burden and so not feel the victim you feel sorry only for yourself; I was the ***** I conned and coxed your simple heart from your skin but I was not the one who started this, you bare that sin back away now, yes you had better retreat because the things I would say you would not meet there is no guilt in my eyes because you stole it all giving me words I did not say and taking the fall that you caused through self-obsessive countenance go now, go quick, go swift before I renounce this vow to stay silent, to veil hard thoughts unheard but one more pity from you and you shall be burnt.
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Mar 30, 2015
Mar 30, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
You are the good in goodbye.
Always be that sunshine Who brightens someone's day Continue to uplift and empower Be that mentor that enshrines accordingly If you can encourage others to do their best People will always see you as an inspiration This will give them that vibrant energy To thrive in any given situation
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Jun 29, 2018
Jun 29, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
Always Be That Sunshine
The only companion of loneliness is silence. Theirs is an unceremonious marriage like - Couples in the middle of their middle age, That mutually run out of things to explore. One tries to find meaning in keeping a book, That tells the same story a million times over- Hoping to find white pages in the yellowed mess. But that hope too, soon becomes a relic. But lately I've come to love a poem, That unites loneliness with silence- It's the twisted compromise made- By water when it settles in a container. It is written on the faces of mothers- Whose husbands are away at work. A verse in the wind that all men hear, To an effect that it stitches broken hearts. It is a call for worship in an unbuilt temple And the belief that enshrines love in trust.
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Mar 29, 2019
Mar 29, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC
The poem of Marriage
Have the strength and courage It is all within the heart In order to succeed You have to make that start Never lose hope Take things one step at a time Go forward and conquer Be the one who enshrines
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Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 11:25 AM UTC
Have The Strength And Courage
Let science captivate you Just nourish your mind Whether if it is physics or chemistry Be the one who enshrines The elements of the periodic table Along with the electrostatic force Will assist you a great deal Just stay on course
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Aug 8, 2017
Aug 8, 2017 at 10:37 PM UTC
Let Science Captivate You