The muck I made
        stuck to me boots
water and soil, I grow roots,
enough to stay put in one place,
look me in the eye, and stare me in the face,
dare to go where your dare takes you, a disgrace,
the lies,
the gossip,
takes hyssop,
                          to cleanse this vessel soiled,
                                          by those who toil,
with evil in their hearts,
sparks that start,
let them believe they are actually alive,
it is sad,
it is me that has to break it to them,
it is they who have died to the truth,
it is the circle they surround themselves
that has drowned them
it is the honest life that has left them behind;
                                            bereft without hope...
they will fall away,
they have gone astray,
from what it is to be human.
Drama drama everywhere, only salty tears to drink.
Don't treat me like the animal, you have become.
It is a misadventure.

Introduction


Burning pages
Blood-red sky
Rage of angels
Days gone by
The Chosen one, with eyes of searing flames
Is opening the book of Living Names....


I


The turning pages tell of lives gone by,
Furled by the one whose eyes are blinding flames;
Hot ashes flutter to the blood-red sky,
Like burning souls of undeserving names.

Where justice fails in life, death compensates:
Rare Mercy brings the angel who redeems,
While cruelty brings down avenging fates,
Even if conscience sleeps throughout our dreams.

The one with eyes of flame sees everything,
His Book of Living Names is always fair;
Yet every page frail as a fledgeling's wing -
Tread carefully if your name is not there.

There are but two volumes: one leads to light,
The other leads to Hell, without respite.



II


He sat in shadows, working through the night;
A scribe writing in words of ****** red,
While brass lanterns imparted sickly light,
As nightmare voices raged inside his head.

And all the names of those forever doomed,
Of future deaths and those of ancient past,
Were on the page, committed and entombed
In holy blood, scarlet and colour-fast.

All those whom God shall cast into the flames,
Unworthy of Heaven's forgiving grace
Are ever here, in this Book of Dead Names -
Named, numbered souls, each one bereft of face.

Thus, all enjoying notoriety
Shall be vanquished in anonymity.



III


Place copper coins over these weary eyes,
Gather my gold around me in the tomb,
Pray overlook transgression, all my lies,
Cradle me unto death, as from the womb.

Bury my silver at my lifeless feet,
Burn sandalwood, utter my name in prayer,
Drench me with nard and hyssop, bittersweet,
Remember me with lilies in my hair.

Pray write me in the Book of Living Names,
God turn thy face from my iniquity;
Spare me the flail, the pit of raging flames,
But let the quiet waters carry me.

Float me upon the Styx when I am gone;
Erase me from the Necronomicon.



NOTES:

This was inspired by some of the startling imagery in The Book of Revelation from the Bible.

brings about sweating
helps the loss of appetite
good nervine,  hyssop

attracts hummingbirds,
butterflies and honeybees
fragrant hyssop plants

As he lifted that cross upon his back
He felt not the weight of it.
Instead he noticed the earthy smell of fresh cut limbs,
The smoothness of the wood after it's been planed.
As he drug his cross through the crowd
He overlooked their angry, jeering faces.
Instead he saw kindness in an old woman's eyes,
The gentle touch of a mother sheilding her child from the cruel spectacle.
As he heaved himself up the rock strewn path toward the hilltop
He didn't feel the sharp bite of the incline waning his final strength.
He kept his eyes on the noon-day sun
Felt the kiss of it's heat upon his brow.
Blood ran down his face from a crown of thorns and
He could only taste salt,
Reminded of the cooling spray of the sea
Refreshing him as he hauled in the days catch.
They pounded the nails into his slender wrists and
He felt no pain,
Only the warm breeze carrying the scent of sage and hyssop from the valley below.
He felt the life leave his body and
He cried not for himself but
Wept only for the suffering of his oppressors...
Understanding the depth of their ignorance,
The breadth of their collective pain.
When he arose from the tomb
Three days of late,
He felt no pride in his abilities...
Only a quiet contentment
Knowing that his courage and endurance would forever
Be a symbol of inspiration for those to follow.
He ascended to the realm of Unlimited Power
Ultimate Understanding
and
Infinite Love
To wait for his children;
To watch over them in times of trial and tribulation...
A silent guide
An unspoken word
An Angel of compassion
Leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for those Hungry enough, and willing to dine with the lowly mouse;
For those who having the bravery of a lion,
Sharp eyes of an eagle,
Clever wit of a serpent...
He waits.
He wakens.
He loves.

"The eye
functions
as the
brain's
sentry,"

but my
off-duty
eye is
welling
with
hyssop.

Dark
Sicilian
coffee
pigment
circles
my iris
for you,
around
& around.

My eye
sees your
words,
floating
like crosses
of hyacinth,
a campaign
of brightness.

And
your eye,
sweet
spark,
it twinkles
with fields
sown
with
music.
Hazel
star,
wait for
a head
of sun
& *****
into green -
your eyes
of spring.

Soon,
my eyes
will see
you walking
from the
gate,
and they
will riot
with shining
orchestras
of brown,
& whites
pure as
yachts.

The looks
they send
you build
cities in
the air.

“Those who hate most fervently must have once loved deeply, those who want to deny the world must have embraced what they now set on fire.”
MillyQueenie
So you slither in
On silken hinged conviction
Your pain the knotted noose
For the necks
Of sinners and fools
Too stupid to put a foot on your throat
Constricted benediction
The little foxes pant for air
Flailing in your scaly wake
They writhe in your grasp
And you revel
Blood on your tongue
Puffed up with your own poison
You open your mouth
Spray acid on the Bride
Satisfied you savor the screams
Your pride a blade that cleaves
Tender flesh from fragile bone
As if one innocent life freely given
Offers no succor for your temporary pain
Tear the tender lambs from the fold
Cast babes to the stones
And throttle the hope of reconciliation
Agape love a whisper on lips
Cleanse me with hyssop and I will be clean
Dress me in unspattered white
Lift the veil  
And see me lit from within
Who are you to hold me back
With vicious words and venom
Drive another spike in the flesh
Watch me bleed
I’m on my knees for you
Prayer still slips from swollen lips
Forgive them….
My bruised heart will never harden
Against your clenched fist
You seethe and rail
When love would simply set you free
Perfected love casts out fear….
Covers a multitude of sins….
Love is patient…
Kind…
Still blind I cradle you coiled in my fractured hands
And pray for that day
When you realize
And rise….
TL Boehm
092909

Um....yeah...Guess what THIS is about....

With my eyes,
I look up to the clouds,
my heart seeking for redemption,
wondering if it will ever be for me

I gaze endlessly at the heavens,
searching for God's salvation;
raising my voice so he would hear me,
and save me from the hands of devourers out to destroy!

To him I go crying,
my voice ringing bitterly as I call out to him,
with my knees kissing the bare ground!

From his heavenly throne,
He looks down to me,
watching every step I take,
and hearing every word that eludes my lips;
My heart is searched,
and buried within,
lies an ocean of sin
But yet true remorse is found,
and I be purged with hyssop,
and made a new creation

~Ciara

brings down a fever
calms stress and anxiety
cues wounds, hyssop