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Samantha Cunha Mar 2021
A summer Hymm falls
from the heavens amongst a
spectacular wind.

A summer hymm
drops and simmers into
the burning red sea
parting you and me
into the night

Burning us like stars
which dazzle on the
most maleficent night

let the gods speak
through you
Don't hold back

Let the gods speak
to you

Dont hold back
Ryan Jones Apr 2012
When the sunrise kisses the sky and meets the the vast canvas with fluorescent splashes of love I know it's you. When I watch the violets violently push their way through the soil searching for your light I feel as if I'm looking into a mirror. Every so often I arise from my midnight slumber and gaze upon the lifeless world and wait for the morning dew to dance against the leaves I, quietly ponder your journey, Jesus, The heart & tenderness of life who pours love over this sorrowful sphere of souls. I missed the days of your prestigious youth as you "born by a river in a lil' tent"- and we should have known then that "A change was gonna come". Before long you were walking the roads of jerusalem healing the sick, rasing the dead as beams of his fathers light fell upon his head. I missed the day John dipped his gracious head and his spirit fled into the immense depths cascading along towards the pure stream of inifinite life.  Far below your rightful place you performed the great hymm of love, blowing peaceful choruses to your orchestra of twelve, with a simple stroke of the bow. Here, There & Everywhere people of all walks of life heard about this man spreading love and bliss but I guess it just wasn't enough, as he was betrayed by a kiss. And in the night this man was moaning, in the night the ground was groaning, in the night the price was paid, yet after the night the world would be saved. So the next morning he had awoken aware of what the judge had spoken, beaten with massive blood loss, his fate to die on the cross!... So he had to die for our sins as he dangled on the cross like hair does a bobby pin. And I can Imagine upon his last breath we were given our first, an eternal quench  of our thirst. And so he had to renounce his earthly home as his spirit fled to his heavenly throne. His death was for us, for our cycle of life to continue.Even nature is englufed into his plan, just like the silent trees cradle the songbird God cradles man. Jack Kerouac spoke to me one night;glowing, illuminated prose set from the tip of his ink glaring off of the ruffled, dusty beat book and he said Ryan... "Man loves in lilly's and lives in milk and in his milk he lives in creamy emptiness"- (yeah, I hear you jack)- So I ask when will man, like a young calf feeding from his mother, draw from your word which is filled with immense light and creamy fullfilment. And this word was put here to illuminate our souls so we can rise in boundless love from the prison of doubt to the freedom of love.. Is it too late... and when the Storms sing, and floods us all will we stand there and moan, frozen in spirit?...when we see him sounding the horizon with flames in his eyes will we give him holy redemtion?.. . When the sky cracks against the dismal night, and his hand  stretched out, like it always was from the beginning, will your heart finally become welcoming?... When the world begins to tremble will we do the same and make the mistake and feel we are dismissed from the betrayal of our own kiss. I feel like we are weighed down under a tomb of ignorance and have fallen from our mothers womb, punished by doubt, that gloomy bird that strikes us with his wings and pushes us further into dark sands of eternity. Now, I am not saying that I am completely free from the ignorance...for at times I've turned the blinds on his light, in fright that I was in the wrong place  as darkness shadowed my weary face. I felt like the vulture standing over a dead carcas, thinking, maybe this doesn't belong to me, maybe I shouldn't sink my teeth into his flesh. My life was vaguely lit like the winter moon, as fear traced my every move.  I let his love be ignored, At times I would throw him a kiss into a pale ray just to say this is me, I wonder if you hear me, do you see?, your child so caught up in a crippling fear of expression, sitting here listening to the tick and the tock two sounds so prevalent to a sheep out of flock, yet all the while waiting patiently like a boat at the dock sitting here waiting for you to realease my anchor and allow this ramblin' mind to tred along the rippling waters of your spirit. Bob Dylan -  prophet of captivating thought once said: "He not busy being born is busy dying"- oh yes, I hear you Dylan and that the conductor of our life drives a slow train and he's waiting for you to drop your luggage and only then can you hear his train-a -comin'. And since that morning after listening to the rain and melancholoy sounds of John Coltrane I realized that I must acknowledge him, pursue him, and come to a resolution that he truly is a perfect being our one and only love supreme. So, I lastly say to you, beautiful lost souls of undeveloped spirit- Love is the source of your being, so unlock the chains to your sunflower- gypsy - butterfly soul and spread your wings and fly. Set yourself free from the decaying flesh of man and woman who suffer your radiant thoughts, thoughts so deeply seeped into the lamb, yet ,slaughtered like the pig in the farm-green, cool, spring wind. Never mind the words of man rather the words of the lamb.
This is a poem I just recently completed. I wrote it in 2009 with the title " Jesus Christ Revisited"- I've been working on a poem called "Soul of Man" for the past two weeks and I happen to stumble across the first mentioned poem and I fused the old poem with the poem I've been working on, and out came an entirely new poem I call : "Eternal Lamb"- Give me your ears for a few minutes. Thank you.
wehttam Jul 2014
Butter remained in the dish
even when liquid.  An even
was the end of the day.  Prophets
raised on corn flakes were more
then or loose crunchy.  Seven
days were not remarkedly adventurous
in IT.  "Am Eye Ah Clnoun?"

or,... "WHAT!"

The dude er romulynn,
stood up and breached a
sword across the mouth of
every line of miss oh genius
phret.  

LYCANs actually have
a bagg for Crete, a steady lie
to put the tooth into.
Jesus is from Cremea'.
I said it.  

Noisy as 'He 'will' be in here,
nice day too. The butter stayed
in the dish as a liquid.  But
hot enough to melt butter.  
I said it.  

Enough proclivity to trace
50 cal rounds, cleaverer than
that, and totally was walken on
water.  *** a matter of fact,
do not lie to me, I'll help hymm.  

I said it.

Have a nice day.  Maybe a better
written one tomorrow.
wehttam Jul 2014
Thee gnome had called
hymm mein flatterer, then
an ape fight for quills, to be
or naught, hidden by a hive
patch of bramble.  Do ordinance
iris search of apart theorhetic sea,
Adeiu mostly, can wearwolves
as sultry be known to chew
rawhide bones teethlesslee.  
Gather by a dared deity
of A Roman's antiquity,
all of course to femine
posterity.  An Aye for Aye,
a sythe to seize do naught
ii and cling.  For better is yet
to OyYea' and I, causes instantly
be and bee.    

cliche toupee'
Apoorv Bhardwaj Mar 2018
Nirbhaya

I might cry, I might weep, I might grieve,
But today you have to perceive,
A truth for my relieve.
I know you know, I won't deceive.

She called me Nirbhaya, my mother,
Fearless and brave I ought to be.
Something she knew about this world,
So harsh it is meant to be.

It was a usual night,
all strangers but no fright.
I took the same road to home,
the road which guarded for years in lone.

I walked the lonely road,
I do not fear, my name held my hope.
All I fear is that it do not end,
as hope is no less than a rope.

It varies in length,
It varies in strength,
It's nothing to cloy,
But it's not a forever joy.

The roads were getting longer,
My heart wore a dismal veil.
It all seemed so tedious to reach,
with fright it started a peculiar gale.

I must not stop, I must go on,
I held my hope and I went on.
Why do I fear if nothing good appear,
In the name of my god I can cheer.

Far at the horizon some shapes appeared,
I held my breath, the breeze were wierd.
I held my faith and like a knight I went,
No horse, no shield, what on earth did I meant.

In my bravery I was lost,
Thence the men appeared.
What a fool I was for what will it cost,
The dreary eyes with a dreary beard.

Side by side they shoved,
The men not more than two.
All my breaths were choked,
What did they meant to do.

I scrambled at once,
Nor besides nor abaft I looked.
The footsteps broke the silence,
The silent night was spooked.

Out of the blue my hand was seized,
All at once I turned.
The dreadful two met my eyes,
Out my heart it burned.

“Unhand me! let me go!”,
To break loose I tried.
Tears did rolled down my cheeks,
I screamed and yelled and cried.

No good men did heard me,
No one did follow.
What pleasures would they earn,
hearing me weep and wallow.

All my yells were ceased,
tried to flee through my eyes.
Top to bottom I was teased,
till every yell turned to sighs.

Eftsoon my eyes wore a veil,
fear spread its wings.
None to follow the trail,
A dark melody it sings.

I resisted their temptation,
Down the road I was shuffled.
I totterd while learning to walk,
But no one ever hustled.

In a while the groping concluded,
And out my heart I sobbed.
Henceforth a while I stood untouched,
But still the painful heartbeats throbbed.

I faltered, and horrified I stood,
Darkness  engulped my eyes.
Every hope did swept,
Soaked into the veil that ties.

But not for too long I enjoyed,
this harrowing freedom of mine.
A palm explored the wonders,
that groping reckless swine.

He mauled as the time passed by,
He laughed as I cried.
I was and feeble,
the more I weeped the more he tried.

One by one they parted,
Piece by piece he ripped my skin.
Victim of the vigorous haste,
slivered top and slivered jeans off the shin.

Soon he swayed all my flesh,
With all his fingers he plied.
Groped my skin with all his filth,
I weeped and sobbed and cried.

Trying to hide the genitals,
There I stood naked.
What else  men can do,
It was anticipated.

Disobliging did annoy ,
Forthwith the veil was swept.
I was a plaything for their joy,
All my grieve I wept.

From one to another I was tossed ,
each leaving a scar.
Feasting their wildest lust,
all the planets and I their star.

A few more added,
added to the raging set.
Brawling for my flesh,
Like their dreams they met.

Off they took their covers ,
Little by little they shed.
A few times they snick,
All my faith I bled.

All my hopes I lost,
Their scrubbing skin did scraped.
It’s facile to die a thousand times,
Then for once being *****.

So inhumanly it pierced,
Out my heart it ripped.
Tears did impelled down my cheeks ,
The cheeks made to be felt or kissed.

Draining smoke and widdle and ***,
Turn by turn they shagged.
Offering an eternal torment,
All my grace they blagged.

Seconds felt like hours,
hours like days .
No wonder mere humans were they,
The devil hath their ways.

Like a setting sun they frazzled,
a sun of endless grieve.
I the wonky that they dazzled,
Or what did they perceive.

I should not walk the roads,
Nor I should talk to thee.
For I will turn to a harlot,
Who knows what else you might see.

Soon I was abandoned ,
withered by some ghoul.
I wasn’t the pioneer,
The devil needed a new soul.

The dark night overwhelmed,
Leaving me unconsumed, uneaten,untouched.
My snivel sealed through the silence,
Bethinking how they groped or clutched.

Like every other night this one too,
Passed in grieves that can’t be undone.
Day and night, night and day,
Who can seize the cycles of the sun.

Countless nights have passed ,
My heart still miss some beats .
Beseech the will to pretermit ,
The memory has it on its sheets.

I saw no good men that day,
No god did appear.
I could never raise my head and stay,
This memory will never disappear.

What a fool I was ,
I should have run.
But had I any choice,
to flee or to shun.

If not here then there,
Round in the world somewhere,
They will come for it, the bust,
to feed the endless lust.

I saw no good men that day,
No god did appear .
Just a few men to say,
I bought a disgrace, I should disappear.

Why was i a shame ?,
All my esteem they drown.
Those lecherous souls do gladly glide,
bearing a princely crown.

I was the culprit,
They were young and proud.
I was looted of my treasure,
Not all they took but left a shroud.

The beasts in there were grim,
The nobles out here no less.
To them my yells were hymm,
To them I lost my nobelesse.
Why is it that women do not feel safe in between men ...have we lost the meaning of manlihood ?
Simone Gabrielli May 2019
Stargazing cactus bloom
desert daydream
skipping salted stones
lost highway
The Mojave a light with
fire flowers
road side decor
for this age of weekend hotel floors
arid breeze
kissing us dizzy
gambled, addicted
visiting Mirage down in the valley below
city glow
dark hair,
light eyes
foreign tongue I love you so
Sweet tequila
lifted above the ground
spin me, spin me, that gleeful aquarius sheen
you're amazing
you're a light in my life, Casino Moonshine
switching gears, half eaten diner meals
roadside pitstops for broken windows
whistling wind
like a gilded finch.
Joshua trees from over Nordic seas
soft skin getting lucky 7 spins
tingling touch
dark lidded lust
euphoric hymm
it's him it's him it's him
orange sky
brusts bright
in my tired amphetamine eyes
AngLe Aug 2017
Slayer plate time Quest heart ways, let hymm birds birth
Eye glisten turn toward stary set' letter
Ethers bedding point mother hue gowns bones lurch
Grave gracious bed thee warrant trim sent fetter
wake to thee ceiling gold adorns regretter
tis nor en-earth en-holy slumber ******
lay'er postion whence kit kist steady tremble
sto
wehttam Jun 2014
Is the law then against the promises of God?  
God forbid:  for if there had been a law given which could have given life, verily righteousness should have been by the law.  

Gallantly,
reading the promise
if though
the hero's that hold the
sacred rose.  
The cape,
red and gold,
the legend of
the Talamud of old.
Bowing to break
the silence for to tell
the bull is the raposte
of the craft when
he snorts he guffs
scratching the surface
of the grave.
Braver and bolder
than the resting lore holds
the written tall lyric
of how bull fighters
speak to solem vows.
Did he or didnt he
warn the few
as the crowd revels
they reveal the truth.
To live or die by
the horns they hold.
A small last dance
to the left and right
the swirling
the sparrow and the robin
know
the footsteps between
the audience throws
the steps to flight
the steps to debt.
In between his teeth
he reveals, the color of
the flower to place on
the stones.  
The bull
or the hero lies here.
A few turns
a few lies, a few more
moments before the bull
dies.  To the clarity and
chagrin, the fighters
are the audience who
hold no pen.   They
stream to hymm the very
step, the very step for the
win.  
He snorts and shuffles,
looks to the crowd
the bull now knows
he is to die.  
Choosen to
write the score
of the mused sick
audience sore.  
And to these
days there are
laws that exist
to protect
the fortune
of the bold.  
Authority, sword,
word in hand,
and by law
of this land
do we save
the bull because
we
are colder than
the bull's sin.  
Trampled or true
the bull is free
untill the bull fighter
meets the
crowds revelry.
AngLe Aug 2017
Down cobbles rose garland sways
still sweeet fox pollon
seep down alley ways
exhaust for-seen resource in shadow

wisk e-hers tinber lit darkness - ray-linear  
Ultra violet ultra steep
o wains and candles
tis summer gleam & beneath tomorro unseen
O castle ablaze let side leave wake till dawn day breaks drawn arrow

Sea Aparts nor seperated dose stars leaves flower beswayed fairy
rings set... pon cusion
Jestered not geer'd ad-sole speech
Healerrs only hear to kKill
And angels hide in coast drift demons
and darkness impervise light

Sweet to kindle
Awe lonely hears
swoop and fain in wistle of nestle

math to flame
crossed goldenfields than adorn
& Spaninsh crux+, shall meet morn

settle anew conflict
will decide on hieght brother
conduct fist to system a sword
yours Shall swing on daymakers eventual deprive
bell to chime and hymm see rise & yawns
Jude kyrie Jan 2016
Its sunday morning.
outside the open window
church bells lilt an old hymm.
i am wearing your shirt again
sipping a coffeee.
All seems familiar
even your smell is with me.
It is the only thing that
brings me comfort
since the sickness
won the final battle.
I pick up the telephone
dialing our number
again and again.
Just to hear
your voice once more.
I savour every nuance
and inflexion of you.
for a brief moment
you are with me again.
And comfort falls
like down feathers.
you ask me
to leave a message.
i whisper
i miss you honey.

— The End —