"iniquity" poems
Love, why do you make my heart bleed?
It leaks thick red plasma that stains on my fingers
As I try to conceal the pain and hide it deep within
My own two hands reach up and take my breath away
The lies you speak catching in my lungs
Forget keeping appearances, I'm suffocating
The answers seem so clear
As I gasp for air
In shock I stare down at my hands in horror
As I find they are replaced with your own
This sudden display leaves me in disbelief
I don't want to see all the truth coming up to smother me
I wasn't smart enough to stay away
From those treacherous arms that promised safety
As they had planned from the beginning
To clench around my throat and liquidate all my strength and glory
Before we even said our first hello's
You planned the end before we began
Love, I will make your heart weep
What you give out comes back to you
I will get you on your knees
Begging for forgiveness
Till they become bruised and give out
I will break you down before you dare to believe you've won
If you are iniquity think of me as your karma,
You will never win
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
The chestnut casts his flambeaux, and the flowers
Stream from the hawthorn on the wind away,
The doors clap to, the pane is blind with showers.
Pass me the can, lad; there's an end of May.
There's one spoilt spring to scant our mortal lot,
One season ruined of your little store.
May will be fine next year as like as not:
But ay, but then we shall be twenty-four.
We for a certainty are not the first
Have sat in taverns while the tempest hurled
Their hopeful plans to emptiness, and cursed
Whatever brute and blackguard made the world.
It is in truth iniquity on high
To cheat our sentenced souls of aught they crave,
And mar the merriment as you and I
Fare on our long fool's-errand to the grave.
Iniquity it is; but pass the can.
My lad, no pair of kings our mothers bore;
Our only portion is the estate of man:
We want the moon, but we shall get no more.
If here to-day the cloud of thunder lours
To-morrow it will hie on far behests;
The flesh will grieve on other bones than ours
Soon, and the soul will mourn in other *******
The troubles of our proud and angry dust
Are from eternity, and shall not fail.
Bear them we can, and if we can we must.
Shoulder the sky, my lad, and drink your ale.
8.8k
In blood, a precious cake dancing
aflame in whirlpool of
cyclopean darkness.
The triggers of sanguinary
guns are tumbling down tears,
sorrow and grief in gush on
the cliff of darkness.
The moon, a crimson cake of
venom toasting blind sun in
gory rays as stars twinkling
blood at dawn.
The orphan profusely wailing
for peace in her own bizarre
carnage in bazaar of iniquity
and rivers of blood.
Let the world stop this blood
Lest this blood stops the world!
©2018 KAYODE STEVE ADARAMOYE
Nov 23, 2018
Nov 23, 2018 at 4:55 AM UTC
*** is a four lettered word
flaunted by very bad vowels
fevered to ecstacy
by all tangled-up adjectives
Then pounded into submission
by perverted nouns
that take their free liberty
of the subjective
Once surrounded
by the iniquity of the parentheses
you will only utter commas
at the Benediction
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 5:16 PM UTC
1453
A Counterfeit—a Plated Person—
I would not be—
Whatever strata of Iniquity
My Nature underlie—
Truth is good Health—and Safety, and the Sky.
How meagre, what an Exile—is a Lie,
And Vocal—when we die—
5.8k
1461
“Heavenly Father”—take to thee
The supreme iniquity
Fashioned by thy candid Hand
In a moment contraband—
Though to trust us—seems to us
More respectful—”We are Dust”—
We apologize to thee
For thine own Duplicity—
4.7k
Grace
for my independent self feeding off lies and trying to live on my own
Grace
to pull me back to the throne
Grace
because I say what I'm doing is divine,
but the reality is
those plans are all mine
For my glory, for my fame,
but instead He gave up His name
Came to earth and
bore a cross for my shame
Grace
because I know I don't deserve it
Yet
I'm still trying to earn it
Living as an orphan
instead of a child
No longer lost, because for me
He was meek and mild
Lamb of God, slain
On Him all wrath was lain
So I could be free,
grace covers my iniquity
Grace
because I say I am strong
But really, it's His grace
that carries me along
Grace
because all that's left to see
is the cross as I cry,
have mercy on me
Grace because it's free,
and the beauty is I can never earn or deserve it
Grace that has set me free
Grace that says I'm redeemed
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
*** is a four letter word
Flaunted by very bad vowels
Fevered to ecstacy
By tangled adjectives
And pounded
Into submission
By perverted nouns
That take their free liberty
Of the subjective
Once surrounded by
Iniquity of the parenthesis
You will only utter commas
In Benediction
May 18, 2015
May 18, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
A man filled with purity
From a God filled with Love.
Came with cleans hands,
From the discomfort of living up above.
A man with no iniquity,
Who only sees equality,
Obedient to what His Father asked of he,
Simply to save you and me.
Though His hands were clean and free of sin,
He had a passion to serve from deep within.
We ***** people,
muddy with hate,
Muddy with pride,
Daily we procrastinate.
He tainted His clean hands,
For the sake of our lives.
Willing to get His hands *****
Something we do not do,
Though we are covered with dirt,
This we refuse to see.
***** hands,
Of Him who saved us,
***** hands of us who live without love.
***** hands of us who believe in God,
***** hands,
Idle.
Mar 31, 2013
Mar 31, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
He only imbibes because of his dipsomania.
She only practices onanism because she's afraid he'll impregnate her.
He despises her monomania.
She's too affable, almost to the point of being obsequious.
He's too acrimonious and muzzy.
She knows she's a bit of a coquette.
He thinks he's a cuckold.
She used to be flighty until she fell into this convoluted dystopia.
He used to find it scintillating to get sozzled.
She just wants a lark once in a while.
His iniquity makes him want her to be lascivious.
Her every fatuity leads to a cabal.
He's too opaque and insipid.
She has to iterate and reiterate everything she says.
He feels his infatuation is unrequited.
She finds this unproblematic.
He doesn't imbue her with anything anymore.
She thinks he's unpitying of that.
He'll malinger tomorrow.
She'll wonder if it's all adventitious or kismet.
She can't handle his odium.
He can't stand her ten dollar words.
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
My inner vision's carrying me
To a boat on quiet seas
To a place where I can be
To a place where I am free
A place of such tranquility.
That little boat's been torn and tossed
In the storm I was so lost!
Then I knew the deadly cost
Satan brews a poison sauce...
Washed away upon the cross.
Now, free of iniquity
The scales washed so I can see
There is no "them" there's only "we"
Jesus died upon the tree
All is calm on port and lee
I have true tranquility.
SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage
2022
Apr 16, 2022
Apr 16, 2022 at 3:29 AM UTC
See that little match-stick,
see that candle there?
See that hard-worn photograph
taken for a year?
Take them punches, boxer-girl!
Much to your chagrin,
it comes back in equal part -
hard and deep within.
Consider bonds between us heat.
And fuel, the time we spent
sleeping close in tousled sheets -
a sky towards us, bent:
gray and cloudless, quick and fleet.
Candle-flame is meant.
to take those memories, and to eat
the message that you sent.
Photo attachment 1: You, him - bottle of Cointreau. Bite marks on your thigh like only I should have left! Grass (both types), a camera. Wrestling. ****** ***
Photo attachment 2: You, him: carousels, cloven-footed balloon-man (whistling high and wee). Hot dogs. Ocean. Wrestling. ****** ***
Photo attachment 3: There was something about a penguin… and there was cake involved. Polarbears - must have been a zoo. Causing me to mope at the keyboard: wrestling, ****** ***
Photo attachment 4: It’s really just *** now.
Photo attachment 5: Please stop.
Shouldn’t be so callous:
that password is personal.
I shouldn’t really have it,
Well, this is what I get for exploring the caverns of iniquity
(that’s slang for your hard-drive),
***** little …
I can’t … cuss you out.
All photographs marked 10/18/07 for devastation.
Now, this thing has ended:
sad, though brief and gleeful.
We were consumed by happiness, never sorrowful
and nothing meaningful;
everything beautiful, nothing painful.
Princess, that work was masterful -
breaking that, making great things hurtful.
But worse still?
I can’t hate you.
Mar 5, 2010
Mar 5, 2010 at 11:29 AM UTC
1537
Candor—my tepid friend—
Come not to play with me—
The Myrrhs, and Mochas, of the Mind
Are its iniquity—
2.9k
God’s discipline
I imagine the young girl with a Strawberry Short Cake suitcase dragging down the road
They kept saying she’s out of control,
even at six years old
Dreams kept her heart knowing
Belief destroyed by family
Now she stands empty
A belief destroyed by reality
Her iniquity is the grand scheme
Broken she began
Now unwritten
A dangerous grant
God pretends to know her
He wants mild, not cold
Let’s be honest,
she will always be out of hold
She will always be an unknown soul
This is the way she will always be told
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 5:30 PM UTC
Sin of self-love possesseth all mine eye,
And all my soul, and all my every part;
And for this sin there is no remedy,
It is so grounded inward in my heart.
Methinks no face so gracious is as mine,
No shape so true, no truth of such account;
And for my self mine own worth do define,
As I all other in all worths surmount.
But when my glass shows me myself indeed
Beated and chapped with tanned antiquity,
Mine own self-love quite contrary I read;
Self so self-loving were iniquity.
’Tis thee, myself, that for my self I praise,
Painting my age with beauty of thy days.
2.7k
Is there anything glorious about August the twelfth?
When people privileged with exceptional wealth
Think it their right, to blast the sky
And the birds that fly, ne'er so high.
Is there dignity to the flurry that follows?
To be first delivering corpses to fellows
And consorts, dining in fair London town
On the shot blasted flesh, fallen down ...
To British soil, the land of the free!
So free, to be trapped in iniquity,
In pursuit of what some think to be glorious
But surely Blake's heaven would be furious.
David Applin
2018
Aug 2, 2018
Aug 2, 2018 at 2:39 PM UTC
fool-proof umbrella
covering protégé
adorning brilliance
no purple moments
folly forgotten
iniquity barred
fountain-pen spills
in lampblack Indian ink
when letting go
rose bush on fire
in the mountain
claims
rock-hard granite
heat melting
higher meeting..so fleeting
concluding well
deep
sans senses
catch scent
wrapped in sound
sudden arrival
rivers flow yet endless
such relief exquisite
still
not quite
fruition
not yet..
four leaves wait
count a quarter
at a time
yet fretless time
caught in veins
of
chlorophyll dreams
time to fill
maturation
to come..
to plant seeds
into blazing buds
just
not yet..
S T, 13 June 2013
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 2:22 AM UTC
I've experienced the exuberance of youth.
Through endless summer days, of blissful childhood ignorance.
I have drempt the most glorious dreams. The ability to soar with the eagles was mine, most any night. I was to live, forever.
I have know the delirious intoxication, of boyish infatuation.
And to such a degree, I have tasted the bitterness of rejection.
I have lived amid nonconformists. I shared in their ideological beliefs. Old Guard be ******
I have witnessed the gatherings of idealists, who's main purpose
was to spread their premise of the brotherhood of man.
I have seen them chained and gagged. Beaten for their beliefs. Shot down in their youth, by those who's superficial dogmas kept them from the truth.
I have been among the ranks of the tens of thousands, shouting my incensement's against a failing war. And I have been to the "wall" and wept for my fallen brothers.I have seen the rise of iconic performers. Some who would pay the ultimate price for their notoriety.
I have felt the power of their karma and reveled in their idioms'.
I have witnessed the miraculous wonder of birth. I've had the privilege to hold the embodiment of purity, God's ultimate creation, in the hollow of my arms.
I have walked among the Angels. And I have delved into the pit of my own iniquity's.
I have loved the un-loved, and scoffed at those who would be cherished.
I have lived as if, there were no tomorrow. I have learned there is just today.
I have lived to be a better man than I was. I live to be a better man than I am.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
Tik Tok, Tik Tok, no more time to talk, clear all the ways of your walk.
Your footsteps I cannot follow, so these words I will just swallow, to be deemed useless and heard no more.
Tick tock, tick tock, time is growing still, around us no more chill, except for that which lies cold and the heartbeat. No comfort, no seat, no rest for my feet.
Inside doesn't like dry in this has overtaken my very function bitterness becomes my friend in what looks like the end as my mind spending spends this bitterness turns to sin.
Tick tock, tick tock, now that I am like the world sick, sad, and greedy, how do I look now? Are you satisfied with my iniquity, outward worldly vocabulary, do you have what you need to judge me properly.
I bet you do. ( This is a poem that I wrote before I accepted Christ.)
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 11:56 PM UTC
The flesh lusts daily against the Spirit
and the Spirit wars contrary to the flesh.
The opposing tenets of grace and iniquity
can never with each other… completely mesh.
For the redeemed sinners operate by grace,
while the practitioners of unrighteousness
prefer the dark, ungodly ways of wickedness
and will not inherit the Kingdom’s fullness.
Fleshly works are clearly evident: adultery,
fornication, idolatry, sorcery, uncleanness,
contentions, jealousies, ****** immorality,
hatred, envy, revelries and evil-mindedness.
Fruits of the sinful flesh are plain to see
and spirits cringe- at their being mentioned.
Can we expect others to pursue God’s holiness,
when people are upset- from being questioned?
For we live under God’s grace and not His Law;
His righteous wrath will be eventually revealed.
Acceptance of His gift of Salvation can insure…
that our lives will have been redeemed and sealed!
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Gal 5:16; Rom 1:18-32, 2:1-16
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
An introvert, I am not
I am just alone
Unattached from iniquity
Peace is all I seek
Reflections from adversities
I evaluate with a hardened stance
Nonspecific abandonments
I negotiate with my floodlight
In mental conflict with my soul
I split atoms and debate
Intuition overwhelms me
yet I accept all things out of my control
Like Wonder’s vision and spiritual being
I remain passionate while on my throne
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 7:03 PM UTC
Earth in iniquity overall clad,
in a stained satin of sin:
loose garment
of a loose life.
Heart's maidenhead in twain was torn,
in Eden,
by Satan's scissors of lies
and wiles,
so crimson did stain
the purest soul
with red spots.
Gold embroidery of righteousness,
silver stitches of sanctity
have all been marred
by Lucifer's tailor-made sophistry.
Wherefore bespoke beauty
and dignity fell
off Adam's body,
and his nakedness seen.
Calvary's grace, the bleach,
the remover of blemishes great,
doth make darkest heart
than cotton to be whiter,
dressing man up again to the nines
with heaven's glory nice.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
When Dagobert adorned Franco caves,
Clovis iniquity built a realm portentous?
Ate fruit from olden, -licentious ways…
Portentous realm thus be-stow-ed,
No king in truth but a nave?
Nave only to a Catholic po-et.
Hearken crier old kingdom days,
Oh Franco brave!
Oh Franco brave!
Oh Franco brave!
Oh Franco brave!
In regret of Dagobert's disturb-ed grave.
Dec 24, 2016
Dec 24, 2016 at 3:17 PM UTC
-A Psalm Of Johnson When He Relapsed Back Into A Shameful Sin
Wash my filthy iniquity with your word off my skin,
And Lead me with your hand back on the straight path free of sin.
Jul 10, 2021
Jul 10, 2021 at 9:17 PM UTC
Oh, where the fair sun's light glistens the sand,
and the crystal waves of the sea so blue,
A paradise, caressed by nature grand,
my freedom, whom I have loved before you!
Its calm mountains of beauty incarnate
to a thousand fortunes I would relish!
Trysts with knowledge, ideas passionate,
with life, liberty, shall I not cherish?
But when you, oh darling of my vision,
are ****** to the hell of mundanity,
I cling to light that darkens my mission,
drowned in the abyss of iniquity!
Dreams, awakened and fulfilled at life's cost,
Memories, future of bliss, all is lost!
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 2:21 AM UTC