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timmyxholiday Jan 2018
a day not owed to deities
what a day it is
Ilion gray Mar 2014
I killed a man today
Watched as he 
passed along 
Just walking 
 The face he wore  was empty
perhaps he was happy.
I killed him
With skin , joints, and bone, crashing,
 ligaments ripping twisting
Pulsating vibration of strings
Mozart concerto #20,
Then...godless jumped on the Brooklyn bound L train
wandered home,
Through the cracked streets of new york city *** holes large as tiny oceans 
I leap over them, as if i were god's son, hurdling aeons.
Upon arriving home,
washed my hands clean 
of being
God spoke through the faucet
with sounds of sword and shield collapsing, glass breaking against concrete and steel the secret sound of 
His horseman riding
 That only i could hear..
I Washed a knife and fork, 
Prepared, cooked and ate a sausage,
 skin, joints, bone, 
tendon, ground, 
Twisted,wrapped in fat
There I stood outside myself
Though my shell remained

I walked along the coastline of the forgotten 
Of those who never age.
SilentAce Sep 2015
When I die I wonder what they will do with me.
I have no home, no blood family.
Only good friends and a few good men left that care.
But I am not their burden.
Nor is my body a sacred thing.
Just burn it if it's easier...
I would ask one request though
Whether it be ashes or decaying flesh,
bury me godless, beside my brothers who fought with devils blood in their veins and God by their side.
That is my one request.
ryn Sep 2014
Life throws at us the worst practical pranks
Some call them challenges... I call them sick ironies
With challenges you might emerge victorious, and slide up the ranks
Ironies are just mean, bad jokes; locks with no keys

Call me godless, sad and trodden, bitter man
Call me a cynic, call me all including jaded
I've arranged it all in various permutations, much as I can
But my view at this point cannot be compensated

Allow me to illustrate...

•It's funny how you feel very certain or strongly
About the bog of sadness and depression you wade in deepest
You know it's real, you fan it with strength your mind could carry
When it could be better used to rise from when you're weakest

•What's this about having to crash to your fiery death
Into the realm of darkness; into the belly of ****
You'd have to almost die and lose your last breath
Before granted an epiphany, a slim chance that you could turn out well

•When life throws you in the deepest end
Fills your lungs with copius amounts of bad water
Tries to **** you before allowing time to mend
When if we were first taught to swim, it would've been much easier

•Sure... A treasure trove of splendours, life does offer
But like a spin of the lottery, you mightn't get even if you deserve
No matter how far you reach into it's elusive coffers
No matter how hard you worked to get ahead of the curve

•Life is like Christmas at times when it feels like giving
Like the gift of love much coveted by most individuals
Gives us all these fanciful things that need extensive assembling
But mischievously hoarding all the instruction manuals

•Fraught with grey areas and blind spots to fight
Presents ample opportunities to find the place that you'd belong
You go through shitloads of wrongs to get a right
And finally you think you're right, in actuality, you're dead wrong!

"More", you say?

•Friends during good times but not the bad
•The perfect red apple hosting a worm inside
•Faking a happy smile when you're deep down sad
•Putting our blind faiths in politicians we know who've lied

•Achieving superstardom only after death had ensnared
•Using heavy machinery to rid the Earth of impurity
•Shooting your mean motor mouth and wonder why no one cared
•Starlets dying for attention but crumble under scrutiny

•Health warnings on cigarettes but still sold for revenue
•Acquiring your sought after sports car but drive within the limit
•Promotions to idiots in suits who haven't got a clue
•Stretching up for the stars even when you know you'll never reach it


I could give more examples but I've typed enough
Life is but a game we're all playing; a circus we're all living
We can't help being helpless when unable to read and call its bluff
All we can afford is to keep siphoning water out of our boat that's sinking
I know I have been whiny in my recent writes. I also know that living a hard life makes you stronger... When life gives you lemons, make lemonade... Blah blah, yada yada... YAWN... SNORE... Zzzzzz. I know these already and I'm sure they're true to a certain degree. Just want to rant and complain. Please forgive my whining.
George Anthony Apr 2018
i shook hands with my priest and he told me god would listen to me
after years of talking to myself, i gave up
if this is the result of a benevolent lord, i want no part in such cruelty
every day spent suffering in this godless existence is another flirtation with the devil's temptations;
he hands me independence and assurance that this universe has no explanations
and in exchange i lose the love i might've had for myself
for a god or for life or for anyone

it's not that i need a god to explain it or to comfort me
it's that they lied when they told me a ghost was worth devoting my life to
i don't want anybody to try and convince me to "find faith", okay, this entire thing is a metaphor for things i'm going through
yes, i did used to be a part of a catholic church and yes i did abandon religious practice, that is true, but this is still a metaphor
God said,
-through the Shaikh... He blessed,

The news has come to me about the kind of calamity that will befall Baghdad.

Offering a supplication on behalf of the inhabitants of the city, praying they be spared. Saying, as God, dejected;

Be my life for indeed someone in this city deserves to be killed and crucified! For one individual whom YOU honor, like thousands of others whom YOU shall have destroy them; You make us suffer for THEIR sins?


YOU have melted the pieces into ingots of the Godless and men?
You try to compete with the Prophets?
You claim to miracles?
You believe you speak the Word?
That you represent, in doing, by action?
Nay, -you serve the Jinn!

This is the end of an Age,
Vanity is your loss.

* not a deceiver...

Deborah Downes Oct 2016
I stare at the television news....

Assaulted by violence
Stunned by the inhumanity of a
Godless society

I listen to the radio....

Embarrassed by ads that tout
Promiscuous pleasures
Outraged by the thinly disguised
Decadent discourses of the shock jocks

I read the newspapers and magazines....

Cuckolded by corporate America a
Loser in the games politicians play
Cheated and

I try to turn it all off….

but like a bitter pill the distasteful images linger
nor can I go along with eyes shut and ears muffled
or not
in a padded room of my own making

I cannot function without information….

tho my senses are
Wounded by the
Brutality of the media

I yearn for thoughts to ease my distress....

like a mother’s soft whispers to her crying baby
like the beauty that shines from faces that know love

I don’t want the perception of reality that the media rapes me with....

I want the truth revealed by God in His creation
Kara Jean Feb 2018
I lay in this bed somewhere between young and decrepit  
My tears embedded into my hair, dried out and dead
There is no reality  just expectations  
I seem to have never trusted  
I am not selfish
I am not selfless
In a godless world I pray
I pray because things just aren't going my way
no sonnets
or fugues

it will be a shabby night is all
broken and ill-repaired
watch'd over by nothing

soak up the blood

how do I amend for my sins?
how am I forgiven?
how are the godless absolved?

if you were dream't
then how is waking penance?

what am I supposed to pay?

and why this lifeless sea beneath my raft

I hope the Sun comes up soon...

Demon of destruction has set out to destroy me...
From morning to night it feeds out to control me...
But the Light of Christ has enabled to comfort me...
Mandated from Darkness it sets out to capture me...

Fortified by the Armor of the Almighty...
I fight the battle with Divine Splendor...
From the deepest part of your soul your Umi tries to control and overpower Yami.
From the deepest part of your soul your Umi* fights control Yami* (Umi:Darkness Yami:Light)
Objective is try to not let Umi win over Yami.
We shall fall in battle weary, armor broken, divine splendor shattered...
Ready to give in when the Highest...
Saves us from doom from complete darkness...

The Radiant Morning Star shall emulate light into your soul essence...
Furthermore, restore the power of your Divine Armor...
Conquering the pestilence that roams in the dark...
Destruction demon weakening prayer empowerment rising...
Then we drawl in the Heavenly sword...
Which shall slay the demon decapitating his head...
Hallelujah the judgement from heaven has been made...
Stand united Brotherhood of Light...for this is an ongoing battle between your Life and your Soul...
1 being alive to do as much good as possible pleasing The Almighty daily and at all times. 2 Allow God to be in control and your outlook on Life and what it brings the good the bad the ****...Christians must stand war ready for our spiritual temple to wedge war against principalities, dark powers, witches, witchcraft, spells, plagues of doom, prophecy from the other realms, dreams, illusions, perdition and lastly soul contracts.  Jesus Christ the intermediator and The Father and the Holy Spirit...
Lucifer doesn't sleep doesn't eat doesn't give up from the day you take your first breath till the moment you take your last...

Let God help you can truly feel free of worldly chains... disobedience to The Almighty and Denial of the Work of The Spirit Of Fire...
Eight blue flamed tongues...
The immortal and unimaginable power he holds...
The Holy Spirit the doppelganger of The Father...or The Almighty One...

Allow spiritual sleep come be awake and allow the force of God the Omnipotent, Omnipresent the One Ethereal Benign Being...

Love is his ultimate power the Alpha and Omega. Beginning and End. Existence recreating itself within itself...a world of random possibility. But with direct order from its atom microorganism the human being. We choose right from wrong we are given "Free Will" and in the end God shall judge all...

~Stand Prepared for Judgement Day~...for HIM known as God shall judge according to his divine will and perfect impeccable truth within truth a experience so drastically real you will know exactly where your headed....the Heavenly Realm situated in the ultimate realm of the Multiverse. Or **** the Eternal Sanctum and punishment of Wicked Corrupted Souls, souls that denied The Holy Spirit Of God. Within the Heavenly Realm this majestic immortal being  exists the entity known as God...
From there inside the Holy Throne to the right of The Almighty...sits the Only Begotten Son (Ultimate Atonement for Humanity: The Lamb, Jesus Christ) then his Querubins,Seraphims and Messagers. Followed by Holy Beasts and 24 Holy Kings...

The power of Lucifer Prince of Darkness...God Demon. Ruling over Leviathan, The Black Legendary Dragon, a hierarchy of Demons from Pride, ****, Gluttony, Wrath etc.

Are you with us...Christians Warriors Of Light...or against us...

Decision is crucial here we are battling for your eternity your salvation...

Come now calls the Lord come home...

To a Wicked Generation Lost in it's inevitable end and final resolve.

Don't be Godless remember Love is what God is made of...come ye weary lost souls come...Amen
©Franko the Christian Poet
Demons vs Angels the battle rages on. Love vs hate battle rages on. The color of your skin... racism must be abolished.
Rox Apr 1
Violet Valley
Violent Valley

In unison
a painted progression

Seen to the point of intrusion

In a cloak of mercenary wander
A violet valley
of a crimson dawn

Drawn from scarlet billows

Where I seethe
Into a prison I saw
A vision blurred from yours

Under the heath of an adolescence
comes a lapse of time
in a spiritless essence


Unsheathing itself
In the beds of silence
the voice of a cobalt rebellion

Freedom stricken
Gaslit onto your lips

The index of incendiary

Rearing fruits of wonder
Where knowledge is set without bound
born from the dusk
of a violet valley

No truth knows where it has risen
For curiosity is kept unkempt
inside obscure tides

of thought from yours to mine.
Lawrence Hall Nov 2018
“I can buy a clock, sir!”

-Will Roper, obtuse as usual, to Sir Thomas More in A Man for All Seasons

Some vague authority for this and that
Advises us that now is the time for all
Good men to come to the aid of their clockery
And set each loyal clock an hour back

For after all, the old times were much better
When an American-made watch or clock
Required a good, strong man to wind it up –
None o’ yer godless Chinese ‘tronics, eh

And as the seasonal will must have it so
Upon our rounds to each house clock we go!
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.

My vanity publications are available on as bits of dead tree and on Kindle:  The Road to Magdalena, Paleo-Hippies at Work and Play, Lady with a Dead Turtle, Don’t Forget Your Shoes and Grapes, Coffee and a Dead Alligator to Go, and Dispatches from the Colonial Office.
em Jan 26
he sees you
your godless
sinful body
sinks into your skin like a seed
into soil
brings his lips to what
he has secretly craved
he expects sweet
he is quick as a
seeking “his”
his tastes discover
that inconsistency
that ugliness
that disgusting
taste of
How cold now Autumn has arrived who’s stare is still and full of lies
Who’s smile is hollow and masks his face which once was full of love
and grace .
Now Autumns chill has taken his frown and some sad clowns turned it upside down .
Now in his dreams he won’t awake and if he does his life might take.?
There’s nothing left but open doors and rooms so familiar yet never
seen before .
That house when you were a child seemed so small ,
now you walk in corridors never seen before .
Coffee cups biscuits and cake all sat around tables and chairs .Napkins  folded with scowls and grins and awful things .

With acid frowns we stand around and hope one day like NorseViking gods  sail to greener shores and plunder gold behind bolted doors .
As if Mercury has an iron core and either side hides love and war ?
As if water flowed from either side and my heart could draw from
evening tide their echoes live ever on .
And God in his splendid rise banish all these godless lies ,
and i might dream of love again.
Recite Byron , Poe and Keats  to all my friends ,
in gardens with band stands ,
and tea served out of China pots into china cups and saucers .

  So to the one who keeps my heart in a locket on her breast ,
her words I sing when the black ravens call ,
and holds my heart in jest . .
and Autums leaves must they fall it is love that binds them all .
My demons stir,
a light that bleeds
through a *****,
and they are alive
once more, to torment
my every waking thought,

the threads of time
align against me,
stitching together to form
one shuddering roar
from within,

my honey trap of memories
are theirs to flick through,
to select at random which
one they want to play,

I am Godless in a faith filled world,
a host for a sinning parasite,
that wraps me up in curses
and black magic, killing me
with shame and self disgust
that's palpable to the touch,

I have danced with the Devil tonight
You are the king of all that matters
watching what we do we trepidation
as we break Your Ten Commandments
and fall apart, divided as a nation.

We seem to think that we don't need You
sinning, throwing caution to the wind
forgetting where in the world we came from
pushing away memory of where we've been.

Killing daily, babies while in their ****
accepting things, we never did before
becoming strangers to ourselves
as we walk, mindless, out the door.

Forgive us Lord, for our stupidity
have mercy, on our heedless soul
as we break, into useless pieces
all the things that once, had made us whole.

Have pity on the way we view our lives
with no reflection on our godless heart
forgive us, for our wicked, shameful ways
of which, by our mistakes, we form a part.
AW Gray Aug 2018
Trapped inside this box of your brain
Just one way out ;  crystal's key
Crush  purest, whitest rock.
won't feel so foul
though careful now!
you'll waste your go
theres only bout a gram you know
translucent Blue cases and razor blades,
an assortment of bank cards and notes far and wide,
torn up notebook scrap dyed red -  a meaningful sign  
from the brutal nosebleeds marking the straws
The purest indication
of our devout dedication;
my love,
complete devotion to such  godless acts
Hear cheers of charlie
speaking salacious acts
Sniff some magic snow for silence
the hankering soon be back

One in the kitchen starting his war,
One in the spre room - dead on the floor,
Two in the bed lost to their head,
And myself on the hunt
for half ins for more
not finished, needs editing for structure
Ilion gray Mar 2
That night,
Jehovah the Almighty,
the god of armies,
who rescues
those belonging to him,
heard your soul is screaming for relief from the world. so he poured  down the gift
Of seeing and hearing pass the painted gates
of false realities down into rain.
The almighty felt compassion
and sympathized
with you knowing well,
How, mankind would create numbers,
and time; in an attempt to hold the weight of their loss,
as they descended from perfection,
all they would create, all of these things
are lost,
things, and people by people,
heart, body, skin, all these are dead or dying,
all which we create flee from us; or we from them...
and yet,
The soul remains, where only its maker can find him. 
I have read the lost words stains across time that deny the hands that gave them life,
and some of these, have called themselves poets.
However, if the things I have said your ears do not hold,
you are not a poet.
You are just a watcher
replicating the ghostly dead shadow,
true beauty of the now, bodiless poet.
Still, this is also the truth.
Perhaps you are in a love' with a poet.
Or they have loved you,
When you should not have been loved,
And, you yourself,
did not love them in truth;
Please, Give pause to your stellar tide  of suffocating emotion,
raging, on and on about your own heaven"
Be wise, all of you...
That you do not destroy
The wanting heart that has loved you...
When you should not have been loved,
do not become hasty,
If you believe that you must go,
Before the day of departing,
do not agitate the air for a day, then
with no provocation,
stare through their ***** body whilst they Ly there in the night,
Scouting the world of your dreams in a panic because they cannot find you, not knowing that unlike them, you have to awaken;
for every night while you are asleep,
The poet searches the darkness in your dreams,
For vengeful demons,
of lingering thoughts
of false things that darker demons
sprinkle down to defile the free
water of truth God gives in the rain.
Do not forget that their god,
has been given the authority of the air,
for now, how that one's only wish
is to **** love,
be wary,
for although they
are empty,
as the air that owns them,
they are wearing human faces, in your dreams,
With eyes earth has never seen,
No mind has ever measured;
Only the poets can see through this painted reality.
Yes, that one who has loved you achingly,
through tides,
Of time, and tears, sprinkle of joy.
All of which you will take once you go,
yet his is the only soul
Who stands up to die for you,
every time
The silenced break the shield
from the moons light,
descending on love,
And dreams,
only the poet rides out to meet them
Standing in defence,
at the edge of mid-heaven
Behind the great nimbus gate;
across decades nights abound that you
have yet to sleep and dream...
So please, just stop!
And,  just wait a little while longer,
Soon the Bodies in the poet will come out once they have called down to The soul,
who is a ***** to the body,
and yet who is master of a universe,
they will call him back out from the abysmal cliffs
a day with death was named,
so he escaped,
down into endless mist,
in order that he may write his translation,
Of what he felt while imprisoned,
In the body between two heavens of water and wind.
When they see your eyes, they will be inspired;
Because a human being tore through their skin,
Even, if you did not love them.
Instead of just watching them
As they decipher time,
and die,
In love with you deeply.
Right now,
for just a few hours,
or days, months,
or more
Whatever your heart and mind can spare...
Wait with them there,
just for a little while,
And those last of days that you know
are coming, and yet
they do not...
Do not be so bothered with the weight of their days,
They did not ask, to be wind.
They are often forgotten
before they have gone.
A heart Unseen, and yet;
somehow strong enough
To wash the world away.
Did you not know that they hold the weight
Of questions,
no one else can imagine asking,
And every day,
of their lives, they will die for the answer.
only to die, as a child;
with all of the answers,
Yet, none of the high from raging days.
You must know that when you have left
Their heart, do not leave it in pieces; laughing
Hysterically knowing,
how they disappear,
without your eyes to find them
in the constant ebb of earthly mornings,
How they haven't slept anything, 
more than an hour
In the past year, without the scarf
of your gentle goodnight,
and still,
they will their souls,
pass speed of light and sound, through
aeons, ageless,
through worlds
without time,
with their poet ears and
lovers eyes they will their souls
Into your dreams each night, unseen;
For he is a watcher in the sky behind your eyes
The keeper of mid heavens 4th nimbus gate, do not crush his spirit unwittingly while carving away his heart,
I implore you, take heed.
If you do this, love will not find you;
And your screaming soul,
will die without comfort,
The winter of your heart will only
Bring you even colder winds,
and your old, cold heart will freeze;
Even if you walk across the sun itself,
As you walk across
the fire of that emptiness,
The winter stone below your swallowed chest,
will not come undone.
So listen and please; Take heed,
all you who love the poet,
Take heed please,
that you do not **** 
Your poets love,
For, if ever you love a poet
You must know,
how their soul wains away,
tired with doubt,
Scarcely surviving this reality,
That, they
Cannot believe,
no matter what;
Even as the hours,
subtly peel away
Strands of skin while in the pit
Of night they battle back the demons
Of the helpless lovers weeping,
while their beloveds
Leaving has left open all the gates and doors that
That once held back the godless demons,
Who wait outside the windows of every lover
Heart and mind,
to tear apart,
those left behind.
Pouring bitter flames down their open ears
While they dream,
Shifting dreams of their faithless beloved.
thus, the true poet's burden,
such noumenon occur,
deciphering the disappearing words wafting
Without time nor place
That only a few thousand others every 100 years
Have seen,
There is no glory in poetry.
One cannot pretend,
you will know when you can't escape.
Every poet dies from the weight
of their own words,
it is infinitely slow-slow murderous rain.
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