"inmost" poems
O Thou who at Love’s hour ecstatically
Unto my lips dost evermore present
The body and blood of Love in sacrament;
Whom I have neared and felt thy breath to be
The inmost incense of his sanctuary;
Who without speech hast owned him, and intent
Upon his will, thy life with mine hast blent,
And murmured o’er the cup, Remember me!—
0 what from thee the grace, for me the prize,
And what to Love the glory,—when the whole
Of the deep stair thou tread’st to the dim shoal
And weary water of the place of sighs,
And there dost work deliverance, as thine eyes
Draw up my prisoned spirit to thy soul!
7.2k
[Dedicated to Austin Osman Spare]
Have pity ! show no pity !
Those eyes that send such shivers
Into my brain and spine : oh let them
Flame like the ancient city
Swallowed up by the sulphurous rivers
When men let angels fret them !
Yea ! let the south wind blow,
And the Turkish banner advance,
And the word go out : No quarter !
But I shall hod thee -so !
While the boys and maidens dance
About the shambles of slaughter !
I know thee who thou art,
The inmost fiend that curlest
Thy vampire tounge about
Earth's corybantic heart,
Hell's warrior that whirlest
The darts of horror and doubt !
Thou knowest me who I am
The inmost soul and saviour
Of man ; what hieroglyph
Of the dragon and the lamb
Shall thou and I engrave here
On Time's inscandescable cliff ?
Look ! in the plished granite,
Black as thy cartouche is with sins,
I read the searing sentence
That blasts the eyes that scan it :
**** and SET be TWINS."
A fico for repentance !
Ay ! O Son of my mother
That snarled and clawed in her womb
As now we rave in our rapture,
I know thee, I love thee, brother !
Incestuous males that consumes
The light and the life that we capture.
Starve thou the soul of the world,
Brother, as I the body !
Shall we not glut our lust
On these wretches whom Fate hath hurled
To a hell of jesus and shoddy,
Dung and ethics and dust ?
Thou as I art Fate.
Coe then, conquer and kiss me !
Come ! what hinders? Believe me :
This is the thought we await.
The mark is fair ; can you miss me ?
See, how subtly I writhe !
Strange runes and unknown sigils
I trace in the trance that thrills us.
Death ! how lithe, how blithe
Are these male incestuous vigils !
Ah ! this is the spasm that kills us !
Wherefore I solemnly affirm
This twofold Oneness at the term.
Asar on Asi did beget
Horus twin brother unto Set.
Now Set and Horus kiss, to call
The Soul of the Unnatural
Forth from the dusk ; then nature slain
Lets the Beyond be born again.
This weird is of the tongue of Khem,
The Conjuration used of them.
Whoso shall speak it, let him die,
His bowels rotting inwardly,
Save he uncover and caress
The God that lighteth his liesse.
6k
Can you hear the voice of God?
Can you hear Him?
Whispering through the tall trees.
Can you hear the voice of God?
Can you hear Him?
Calling through the sweet song
of the chickadee.
Can you hear the voice of God?
Can you hear Him?
In the hushed silence of a
clear night sky full of stars.
Can you hear the voice of God?
Can you hear Him?
In the quiet flapping of a butterfly's
gentle wings.
Can you hear the voice of God?
Can you hear Him?
In the lazy hum of the honeybee's
flight,
as she ascends and descends upon
blossoms in summer's radiant light.
Can you hear the voice of God?
Can you hear Him?
In the lion's mighty roar.
Can you hear Him?
In the waves of the sea which
crash upon the shore.
Can you hear the voice of God?
Calling out to your inmost soul.
Saying,
"Come to Me,
come and rest.
Receive forgiveness.
Let My love heal you.
Open the door of your heart to
Me .
For I stand at the door and knock."
Can you hear the voice of God?
O weary traveller upon life's way.
He longs to comfort you in His Love.
And chase your fears away.
Can you hear?
Can you hear?
Will you say,
"Speak Lord, I'm listening."
For then...
You will hear.
The voice of God.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 5:45 PM UTC
Dreary of a dark empty space,
The loneliness crowded,
Which somewhat I called—
"A Place Unwanted."
To them may it be madness:
A pretense of his suffering,
His mindful selfishness.
But not how I would label me.
To be covered in lunacy:
Lies coming from about,
Changing colors and theme,
Wading of goodness.
Their ways of hypocrisy.
I was a sea of countless woe,
To be brave but unsure.
Am I ever safe, if I never show?
The gaiety beyond avenue,
Through under glass I look.
The joy fits for most,
But not a dream to be oath.
Overtaking my inmost true,—
These things behind the sun.
What I should walk away from,
But it could never be done.
May 19, 2018
May 19, 2018 at 3:03 AM UTC
Thou lovely and beloved, thou my love;
Whose kiss seems still the first; whose summoning eyes,
Even now, as for our love-world’s new sunrise,
Shed very dawn; whose voice, attuned above
All modulation of the deep-bowered dove,
Is like a hand laid softly on the soul;
Whose hand is like a sweet voice to control
Those worn tired brows it hath the keeping of:—
What word can answer to thy word,—what gaze
To thine, which now absorbs within its sphere
My worshipping face, till I am mirrored there
Light-circled in a heaven of deep-drawn rays?
What clasp, what kiss mine inmost heart can prove,
O lovely and beloved, O my love?
3.6k
*O dear Morpheus, for thy rest be no disturbance in thee?
For thy sole ideas be neither order nor structure in flow?
Fear I sense for thy sacrèd inmost sanctum closes its eye.*
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
I stood where Love in brimming armfuls bore
Slight wanton flowers and foolish toys of fruit:
And round him ladies thronged in warm pursuit,
Fingered and lipped and proffered the strange store:
And from one hand the petal and the core
Savoured of sleep; and cluster and curled shoot
Seemed from another hand like shame’s salute,—
Gifts that I felt my cheek was blushing for.
At last Love bade my Lady give the same:
And as I looked, the dew was light thereon;
And as I took them, at her touch they shone
With inmost heaven-hue of the heart of flame.
And then Love said: ‘Lo! when the hand is hers,
Follies of love are love’s true ministers.’
3.1k
Anything you said is consequent to other declamation .
but i thought is symmetric to our own reflection .
our declaring prelude the inmost extend of our action .
with all but grim and glee of necessary life partition .
learn how to hold your tongue or you may dull your mission .
so let our thought have weight upon any of our every eruption .
cause morrow Sophist will dart light upon all our conclusion .
and for our name's sake let the blaze glow to its fullest elevation .
here and there ; nothing but cheap hick town pluck delusion .
phenomenon to blame and frail wont reach at any situation .
side-long-way , matter of rear pie but notwithstanding altercation .
the sage nut is not the one that proffers at all event ; citations .
but measure with all time honored a thought irreversible as motion .
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
*"As the same fire assumes different shapes
When it consumes objects differing in shape,
So does the one Self take the shape
Of every creature in whom he is present."*
(Katha Upanishad II.2.9)
*"As the rivers flowing east and west
Merge in the sea and become one with it,
Forgetting they were separate rivers,
So do all creatures lose their separateness
When they merge at last into pure Being.
There is nothing that does not come from him.
Of everything he is the inmost Self.
He is the truth; he is the Self supreme.
You are that Shvetaketu, you are that."*
(Chandogya Upanishad IV.10.1-3)
*I don't understand,
Why, in this land,*
Where these sacred
scriptures were written,
Were so many religions born--
*I don't understand,
How, in this land,*
Were differences encouraged,
When the backbone of all life
Always was recognized as liberation--
The acknowledgement
Of all different religions, castes, creeds,
Really broke the deal you know...
Imagine, if all the cultures were mixed
Instead of being separated, unconnected, segregated;
And churned into a liberal philosophy
The Philosophy of Liberation (read: Moksha)
We'd have prevented so many wars,
All fought under the cloak of differences and disparities;
We could have averted
So much bloodshed,
So many innocent screams--
And these shudders down your spine right now?
They would be the product of fiction;
Not the echoes of cruel reality...
Aug 6, 2014
Aug 6, 2014 at 2:58 AM UTC
Day by day,
He feeds me the manna of His Word.
Piece by piece.
Morsel after morsel.
Until I find I am craving more.
For nothing else can satisfy
my thirsty soul,
like the Bread from Heaven
of His Word.
Each word...
each morsel of light and life...
nourishes me in my inmost being.
Nothing else on this earth
comes close to satisfying.
I cry out "Lord, I want more!
For nothing else can save me, heal me,
deliver me, like Your powerful Word."
He answers, "Come, my child, you are
invited to the Feast,
to feast on Me, feast on My Word,
and find true life."
Empty from the broken cisterns
of the world,
I come to His Feast.
He feeds me the manna of His Word,
piece by piece,
morsel after morsel.
Until I find I am craving more.
Until He has filled up
my empty soul.
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 11:54 PM UTC
‘He who rises from prayer a better man, his prayer is answered’
- George Meredith
In the solemn silence of the cathedral
Close to the 'sanctum sanctorum'
Away from the din of the world
I sat in prayer for hours
In deep adoration as I sat with eyes closed
Envisioning Him at the inmost shrine of my heart
I sensed His living touch all over my body
The one without form lifted me in His arms
Like a child clinging to a caring father
I opened my heart before Him
Placed my life’s burdens at His feet
Asked for gifts my frail hands could hold!
Coming out, relieved and enriched
At the gate I was greeted by a beggar
Dressed in rags, his hair lying wildly matted
With sores in his body, he looked a piteous sight
In his outstretched hands was a begging bowl
His lips were pleading in silence
From my bounty, I gave him something
And saw the glitter in his hazy eyes
Can I ever discriminate him
When we both do the same thing
While he begs before me outside the shrine
I beg before the Lord inside the shrine!
Mar 27, 2017
Mar 27, 2017 at 7:39 AM UTC
Hello Poetry to me is just another joint family
How by a common bond, here we are strung together
Though separated by geographical boundaries
Distance has never been a hitch or a tether
Your relentless encouragement helps me aim for heights
Your heart felt blessings give me loads of happiness
Your poems open before me new avenues of thought
Your gracious company creates for me a new ambience
Before my eyes, a hundred smiling faces appear in a row
Some stand out as beacons of radiant light
With words of encouragement, you vanquish all my doubts
Revitalizing my spirit and leaving it shimmering bright
Through this forum we share our inmost thoughts
How close we feel though never been together
Many have left the scene leaving trails of footprints
And many join fresh to continue the endeavor
Irrespective of creed we are here at art’s sacred shrine
‘Poets’ we are called and we breathe the scented pride
We stand tall among many others of our species
Let us proclaim aloud our fraternity worldwide!
Nov 8, 2017
Nov 8, 2017 at 10:31 AM UTC
What other woman could be loved like you,
Or how of you should love possess his fill?
After the fulness of all rapture, still,—
As at the end of some deep avenue
A tender glamour of day,—there comes to view
Far in your eyes a yet more hungering thrill,—
Such fire as Love’s soul-winnowing hands distil
Even from his inmost arc of light and dew.
And as the traveller triumphs with the sun,
Glorying in heat’s mid-height, yet startide brings
Wonder new-born, and still fresh transport springs
From limpid lambent hours of day begun;—
Even so, through eyes and voice, your soul doth move
My soul with changeful light of infinite love.
1.7k
The Artist painted
the skies and molded
the stars and galaxies
to His liking.
He sculpted the
mountains out of
clay and dirt.
He wrote music
and taught the birds
to sing His chords.
He carved a place
for the ocean and
poured His love
in its depths.
He made man.
He knit veins to bones.
Skin to ligaments and muscle.
Built a cage to protect our heart
as He knew that it
is so easily broken.
He connected nerves to the brain
and in that brain,
He made so complex of a
system that science is still
baffled by the ***** that
holds the information
of our personality.
Our emotions.
Our passions.
Then.
He did something crazy.
Insane.
He gave man free will.
To love or to hate.
To turn to or against.
And man turned against.
Hid from his Creator.
The One who knows his
inmost being.
And beauty was distorted.
All that is beautiful
is only an
echo.
An echo of the home
that we once knew.
An echo of the original
Artist, the one who
taught us to create.
*All I can do now
is to try and capture
Your beauty
to show to others.*
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
Lying on the beach
Surrounded by murmurs
Of conversation
Children laughing at play
And the soft rustle above
Of heart-shaped leaves
Dancing in a brisk breeze.
All once familiar
Yet now foreign,
It occurs to me ,
That I no longer fit,
Have ceased belonging
In that comfortable way
Of former times
When you loved me
I no longer fit
In the world of couples
Though they kindly try
To include me
If only occasionally
It just isn't the same
Any longer
Feeling fragmented
I dole out bits of myself
Almost stingily
Guarding carefully
My inmost thoughts
Smiling as if all is
As it should be
But it isn't
And maybe never was
When you were here
I felt safe and whole
For the first time ever
Secure, wanted, needed
Now I am a puzzle piece
Of an odd shape
That no longer fits
In the larger scheme
Of humanity
Perhaps I have lived
All these years
In a mindset
Of childish fantasies
Now suddenly dashed
Like letting go unwillingly
Of Santa and the Easter Bunny
Maybe this is Life
Seen without benefit
Of rose-colored glasses
Maybe, maybe not
Eileen Auger
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
We used to be so close, so inmost, so opposite and disposed and yet so equal and lazy that we were one.
Opposites attract and then get distracted. Equals distract and then get attracted.
We are opposites, we are equals, we are strangers.
We were opposites, we were equals, but today we are just two strangers with a routine of talking everyday about stuff that never existed.
We are two points intertwined by a circular line that keeps moving without our consent, lost in a infinite time space.
A friendship disguised, a feigned tolerance, a mutual and misunderstood need of acquaintanceship between each other.
A prophylactic and procrastinated love that wants to keep distance, deviating itself from the deep suffering.
But what suffering?
The suffering was only the avid fear by pain that turned us into two unaware and afraid of everything.
We are singular.
We are plural.
We're diminutive and we're augmentative.
We are two laconic passengers of the wacky train without driver that is the prolix relationship of humans, love and hate.
We are two regular strangers in relentless pursuit of deterioration of our love as a solution for all in our lives.
We are two remote lovers in relentless pursuit of deterioration of our lives as a solution for all our love.
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 1:43 PM UTC
You created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
You saw me as a Child of light when i was wrapped, consumed in darkness.
Evil was I when i left her, wicked and unscrupulous.
Yet you kept me, Yet you kept me.
Evil wouldn't leave me it took advantage of a helpless child.
Abused by the hate that is in this world.
Being told evil was good, and accepting the curses of that lie.
Confused, feeling hopeless, growing in a broken home.
Filled with fear, questioned time after time if You were there, Here…
Yet you kept me, Yet you kept me.
Consumed with greed, all i wanted was to be pleased.
Not loving myself, because i wanted to be someone else.
Refusing to see how wonderfully you made me.
I cursed, mocked.
Yet you kept me, Yet you kept me.
Lost and in despair, You called my name, I heard you, I didn't listen.
Parading to be an angel of light, walking the aisles of your sanctuary.
Having the form of godliness but denying its power to change me.
So eager was I, to leave your presence craving for what the world had to offer.
Lusting for sin wanting to fill that gap that was deep within.
Yet you Kept me, Yet you Kept me.
I searched for love, for happiness.
The satisfaction was short lived,
became addictive I needed more, need just a little, needed alot.
Spiraling down, down, down Living with no real hope, totaling my emptiness.
Yet you kept me.
You reached out, you called me again, a clear voice repeating my name.
Telling me its time to change. Change from the way that is vain, vague.
Letting me know u called me to a higher purpose. a place of true love,
Where i can experience the fullness of Joy Happiness Peace.
Despite all I have done, your blood will wash me, make me whole.
Born again, dead to sin, Realizing all the wonders I was truly missing.
Anew, Zealous in Christ, Salvation is so Sweet, Jesus he saved a Wretch like me.
He speaks, He guides, He rebukes All because He Loves me.
Me….Me?...Me.
O Lord yet when i stumble your grace is sufficient for me.
Though I am undeserving.
O lord you have Kept me… You are Keeping me.
O Lord yet when i stumble your grace is sufficient for me.
Though I am undeserving.
O lord you have Kept me… You are Keeping me.
Testimony.
Sep 25, 2013
Sep 25, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
When days to wilds became
Bright song of spring so real,
We gifted selves shameless,
Blooms laden in sunny fields.
Kisses grew whisperings airy,
Whizzing round us like bees,
O when we loved true dearly,
Gusts blew breathy thru trees.
Our touch devoting like rings,
Golden in grasses rung green
And eyes glazed over singing,
Wet and sleepy as ***** dream.
O how inmost times passed,
Winsome wee flowers in grass.
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 3:41 AM UTC
At morn the Count of Greiers before his castle stands;
He sees afar the glory that lights the mountain lands;
The horned crags are shining, and in the shade between
A pleasant Alpine valley lies beautifully green.
"Oh, greenest of the valleys, how shall I come to thee!
Thy herdsmen and thy maidens, how happy must they be!
I have gazed upon thee coldly, all lovely as thou art,
But the wish to walk thy pastures now stirs my inmost heart."
He hears a sound of timbrels, and suddenly appear
A troop of ruddy damsels and herdsmen drawing near;
They reach the castle greensward, and gayly dance across;
The white sleeves flit and glimmer, the wreaths and ribands toss.
The youngest of the maidens, slim as a spray of spring,
She takes the young count's fingers, and draws him to the ring,
They fling upon his forehead a crown of mountain flowers,
"And ** young Count of Greiers! this morning thou art ours!"
Then hand in hand departing, with dance and roundelay,
Through hamlet after hamlet, they lead the Count away.
They dance through wood and meadow, they dance across the linn,
Till the mighty Alpine summits have shut the music in.
The second morn is risen, and now the third is come;
Where stays the Count of Greiers? has he forgot his home?
Again the evening closes, in thick and sultry air;
There's thunder on the mountains, the storm is gathering there.
The cloud has shed its waters, the brook comes swollen down;
You see it by the lightning--a river wide and brown.
Around a struggling swimmer the eddies dash and roar,
Till, seizing on a willow, he leaps upon the shore.
"Here am I cast by tempests far from your mountain dell.
Amid our evening dances the bursting deluge fell.
Ye all, in cots and caverns, have 'scaped the water-spout,
While me alone the tempest o'erwhelmed and hurried out.
"Farewell, with thy glad dwellers, green vale among the rocks!
Farewell the swift sweet moments, in which I watched thy flocks!
Why rocked they not my cradle in that delicious spot,
That garden of the happy, where Heaven endures me not?
"Rose of the Alpine valley! I feel, in every vein,
Thy soft touch on my fingers; oh, press them not again!
Bewitch me not, ye garlands, to tread that upward track,
And thou, my cheerless mansion, receive thy master back."
1.4k
==={♡}===
this morn I saw a feather white
fall to concrete. solid. grey
almost as an aftersight
the westward wind
took it away
today i saw two butterflies
bright wing'd jewels
upon the breeze
how could a creature
such as i
be company
to such as these?
a tiny bird eclipsed my sight
a peridot with eyes of black
no branch had she
on which to light
but was not mindful
of the lack
my soul doth fly
with pain'd wing
for suffering my heart doth cry
my voice has naught to sing
my inmost self
is doomed to die
upon love's branch
i would delight
upon love's breast
I'd fully lean
but 'tis a divine oversight
i walk this world alone
unseen
majestic mountains will arise
and move to places
God has planned
before my heart
unknown. despised
will find
a proper
place
to
land
for landing's cause i set my course
for hills will part into a wraith
i have a will to take by force
i will fimd haven
in my faith
soulsurvivor
(C) 2/14/2015
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
reach,
reach into the deepest of my soul.
look,
look at the inmost part of my heart.
build,
build a bridge over the gap of silence,
and speak the word.
hello.
Dec 31, 2014
Dec 31, 2014 at 11:50 AM UTC
I looked up to the cross and down deep inside
I saw redemption and the shame I can't hide
I looked up to the heavens and down on the city streets
Now and then I glimpsed where hurt and healing meets
I looked from the four ends of the earth
And there I experienced a kind of rebirth
I looked from the richest to the poorest of there
Where I stood there was more to wealth than what I see
I saw that they were joyful, so warm and real
They lived with such enthusiasm; such zeal!
I looked up from my little world to see what awaited
I saw there a great big place so wonderfully created
I looked back and saw that things had shifted
I began to see how I was gifted
I looked to God and saw his Merciful Heart
And in my inmost being a change would start
I looked to God and saw his Precious Blood
And I was washed clean in that Holy Flood
I looked to God and saw his Body Broken
And I saw him with arms Held Open
I looked to God and felt a kind of Power
That remains every day until my Final Hour
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 7:46 PM UTC
There is peace to be made with
this irretrievable beauty...
a seeming hands-off policy
of inmost heart.
We're implored to take this seeing
with us...for this life that must
be seen through.
This is how the promise of more
furthers itself...a call to eternal
life--the only way peace may be
made with this irretrievable
beauty.
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 12:25 AM UTC
Writing,
Reflecting the inmost being, or simply what's wallowing at the top of the subconscious.
Consciousness, divinity, split pea soup shredding through me.
Mental perceptivity and **** beads: better out than in, I always say.
Check yourself before you Shrek yourself.
Green Onions tell me in grocery stores, "It's never Ogre."
I once thought the world to be flat. Maybe you thought that, perhaps you didn't.
Fluid change of though patterns strike at the heal of the what wasn't.
Wasps leave me be. I drained the pool where I used to be.
He told me the other day; he told me nothing.
Hugh Jackman's nasally in the Les Miserables film. That doesn't rhyme with anything, it's just true.
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 6:02 PM UTC
“When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.
To love life through labor is to be intimate with life’s inmost secret.
All work is empty save when there is love, for work is love made visible.”
~~Kahlil Gibran~~~!!!
All, <3<3 :):)!!!
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 5:20 PM UTC