"judea" poems
The world's gone mad but my mind is made up.
Time to let ya'll into the darkroom of my mind,
A place where I'm the referee of a poetic world cup.
This is where I am creative even though I'm blind
Don't get me wrong I am not leaving from town.
No more radio or TV saturated with all the sad news,
I have got enough breaking news of my very own...
Breaking to me each and every moment as it brews.
Come and meet the hard drive of my creative doom,
That contains my beautiful and liberated mind.
Welcome to my one bright side I call my darkroom,
It's a place that's so special, I reckon it's one of a kind.
You have to know that I always act blind but I see.
In my mind, I can walk stack naked and levitate.
My mind is where I remain totally black and free.
Come join me set my poetic dial and help me activate,
The code that will outshine any power on this earth.
My mind is where I live and where nobody has access,
Here I can run a poetic marathon without taking a breath,
Call it my playground and intellectual fortress.
My mind is deep, a place of absolute calm and refuge,
Somewhere I will always see as the final frontier.
It is dangerous and toxic like a nuclear centrifuge.
In there, I am all alert and vigilant like a soldier.
My mind is a darkroom where I give birth to new ideas.
It is a vessel and place in which I do magic with letters.
It is my holy land of thoughts, my own creative Judea,
Where each idea is sacred and light as bird feathers.
Welcome to the epicenter of my creative mind.
This is where I turn letters into spoken words
A front line of creativity where no one leaves behind.
Come and see where all words become useful swords.
My mind produces powerful words like some light beams...
Courageous and powerful words for extra motivation.
Spoken Words that will light up people's faded dreams.
Now you know that up in my mind are no limitation,
There exists an enormous capacity of time and space.
Welcome one, welcome all to the darkroom of my mind
Take a seat and be calm, be quiet this is my place
For this here is my personal creative post of command.
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@Bassapoet
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 10:52 PM UTC
553
One Crucifixion is recorded—only—
How many be
Is not affirmed of Mathematics—
Or History—
One Calvary—exhibited to Stranger—
As many be
As persons—or Peninsulas—
Gethsemane—
Is but a Province—in the Being’s Centre—
Judea—
For Journey—or Crusade’s Achieving—
Too near—
Our Lord—indeed—made Compound Witness—
And yet—
There’s newer—nearer Crucifixion
Than That—
6.2k
A woman in heaven caused the fall of man,
Even though the apple was plucked by her man.
A woman in Troy caused a ****** old war,
Brave men fought for the honour of possessing her.
A woman in Judea gave birth to a baby boy,
Whose tongue caused upheavals that's felt to this day.
A woman in a bikini is a poster for her own liberation,
While in a burka she is a symbol of her own oppression.
She must be the cause of her own sexploitations,
For her assets fulfil the ogling market's expectations.
When she's ***** it must be her fault in some way,
For as she passes by, her brethren look the other way.
A young woman is responsible for her own lynching,
If she dishonours her brethren for her lover's calling.
As a child she is the cause of her own infanticide,
For she is the bearer of ill-omens and misfortune.
Has anyone ever asked her if she wants to be a poster,
Or a commodity, or a bearer of their burden and slander?
Beware how you treat her, for she is above all a mother,
Whose hands may cradle the next saint, thief or ******
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
Dedicated to all my Poet Friend, as I wish them a Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year - 2019 ! Kindly read the footnotes too. If you like it, do re-post this poem for wider circulation please! Thank You, - Raj
A BRIGHT STAR OVER BETHLEHEM !
* By Raj Nandy*
“We three kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we travel afar;
Field and fountain, moor and mountain, -
Following the yonder star ! “
- A Christmas Carol.
Named Casper, Melchior, and Balthasar, - @
The Three Wise Men came from the East,
Travelling west guided by a Bright Star,
To seek out the child born under this lucky
Star ;
And to pay their homage and before him kneel,
For He was to become the Savior and King !
They brought Him precious gifts of Gold,
Frankincense, and Myrrh, -
Which were also symbolic gifts by far!
Precious Gold has been a gift for royalty always,
For the baby Jesus was to become the 'uncrowned
King' one day!
Frankincense as a soothing perfume was really
good ,
Which also symbolised His future priesthood !
Myrrh as an embalming ointment was being used,
By the ancient Egyptians as a preserving perfume ! #
This gift of Myrrh was like a breath of new life -
in the prevailing gloom;
While symbolising His sorrowing, suffering
and crucifixion;
And leading to His final resurrection, -
To save mankind from their sinful affliction!
So Friends, when you celebrate Christmas this
year,
Let us with love bring hope and good cheer!
And help to wipe out those sorrowing tears, -
By giving gifts to those destitute children
and bless,
Since we generally tend to forget them always!
And let our gifts become a true symbol, -
Of His kindness and love let them reflect and
resemble!
……………………………………………………………….......................
NOTES : - @ = One 8th Century AD Manuscript says that these Three Wise Men were also astrologers, who had known about the Prophecy of the birth of Jesus who was to be the King of the Jews! They were guided by a Bright Star which had shone over the town of Bethlehem in Judea, ruled by the mad King Herod! Their three symbolic Gifts signified the King, the Priest, and the Savior of Mankind respectively! From the ‘Gospel of Matthews’ we learn that King Herod had told them to inform him about the Baby’s location! But since they had been forewarned by a dream, they returned by a different route! So Herod gave orders to **** all children 2 years and below, fearing this ‘King of the Jews’ will one day take over his throne !!
#MYRRH = was being used by the Egyptians during the 5th century BC, which they had obtained from Africa. It was used in incense, in perfumes, & in holy ointments; mostly for embalming , - signifying Jesus was to die for mankind ! Thanks for reading, – Raj.
ALL COPY RIGHTS WITH THE AUTHOR ONLY
,
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 8:45 AM UTC
Dedicated to Ms Valsa George & my Poet Friend, as I wish them a Merry Christmas & a Happy New Year - 2017 !
A BRIGHT STAR OVER BETHLEHEM !
* By Raj Nandy*
“We three kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we travel afar;
Field and fountain, moor and mountain, -
Following the yonder star ! “
- A Christmas Carol.
Named Casper, Melchior, and Balthasar, - @
The Three Wise Men came from the East,
Traveling west guided by a Bright Star,
To seek out the child born under this lucky
Star ;
And to pay their homage and before him kneel,
For He was to become the Savior and King !
They brought Him precious gifts of Gold,
Frankincense, and Myrrh, -
Which were also symbolic gifts by far!
Precious Gold has been a gift for royalty always,
For the baby Jesus was to become the uncrowned
King one day!
Frankincense as a soothing perfume was really
good ,
Which also symbolized His future priesthood !
Myrrh as an embalming ointment was being used,
By the ancient Egyptians as a preserving perfume ! #
This gift of Myrrh was like a breath of new life -
in the prevailing gloom;
While symbolising His sorrowing, suffering
and crucifixion;
And leading to His final resurrection, -
To save mankind from their sinful affliction!
So Friends, when you celebrate Christmas this
year,
Let us with love bring hope and good cheer!
And help to wipe out those sorrowing tears, -
By giving gifts to those destitute children
and bless,
Since we generally tend to forget them always!
And let our gifts become a true symbol, -
HIS kindness and love let them reflect and
resemble!
………………………………………………………………...........................¬..
NOTES : - @ = One 8th Century AD Manuscript says that these Three Wise Men were also astrologers, who had known about the Prophecy of the birth of Jesus who was to be the King of the Jews! They were guided by a Bright Star which had shone over the town of Bethlehem in Judea, ruled by the mad King Herod! Their three symbolic Gifts signified the King, the Priest, and the Savior of Mankind respectively! From the ‘Gospel of Matthews’ we learn that King Herod had told them to inform him about the Baby’s location! But since they had been forewarned by a dream, they returned by a different route! So Herod gave orders to **** all children 2 years and below, fearing this ‘King of the Jews’ will one day take over his throne !!
#MYRRH = was being used by the Egyptians during the 5th century BC,
which they had obtained from Africa. It was used in incense, in perfumes, & in holy ointments; mostly for embalming , - signifying Jesus was to die for mankind ! Thanks for reading, – Raj.
,
Edit poem
Dec 23, 2016
Dec 23, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
Te voy a escribir un poema, dice la voz grave, de padre severo, la que te da miedo, porque eso es lo que hago.
Porque así hiero, así deshumanizo, así vuelvo invisible lo delineado, lo certero. Escribiendo transformo la carne y la sangre y los huesos en grafito que se borra, en caracteres que vuelan y se pierden.
Así te vuelvo a ti, todo, en nada.
Eras un gato. Eras lluvia ominosa. Fuentes sin agua, mar encerrado. Eras belleza donde nadie quería mirar. Nadie se acerca jamás a lo derruido y a lo gris a lo que huele a abandonado, extranjero.
Me gustaba llorar en tu desolación. En la tierra húmeda que estaba bajo tus pies. En las manos siempre vacías.
Eras extraordinario.
Un caballero exiliado, un detective medieval, un magnate honesto.
Eras, eras, eras.
Déjame convertirte, ahora, en algo más. Ahora que has dejado de ser, que incluso perdiste la piel, el cabello, el brillo.
Eres Siddharta, joven de nuevo camino. Eres el Buda. Renunciaste a todo [polvo, ropa usada, brillo] Te volviste nada. Un mesías. El Uno.
Poesía. ¿Tú?
Tú no eres poesía, tu no eres las copas de los árboles que se mecen [se mecen] junto con el caprichoso baile del viento. ¿Tú?
Comes y amas y vives y haces y dejas de hacer porque ya es de día y ya es de noche. ¿Tú?
Siddharta Eclipsado por la Luz. Siddharta sin voz. Sólo Om. Om. Om.
Eras el soldado sin nombre. Todos ellos, deshechos por la guerra, con lámparas de aceite en la mirada, pasos tenues.
Eras.
Eso es lo que eres. La exaltación [mía] del pasado, el vivir en los recuerdos, la nostalgia, la niñez difuminada, antes de anochecer, una sonrisa inocente. No es un vacío o un espacio sin polvo entre los libros, la marca de que un cuerpo que estuvo entre las sábanas.
Eres el pasado que murió y ya no existe. No eres, dios reencarnado.
Te volviste santo, te sentaste y te transformaste en piedra tallada, te cubriste de musgo y de olvido, solamente. Todo lo demás es demasiado humano.
Siddharta, inútil cualquier intento. Porque no puedes ganarme. Yo soy la pluma que escribe. Yo te invento, yo te insuflo vida y yo ya no quiero dártela, porque estás intentando escribir y eso no te lo puedo permitir. Eso no lo puede hacer.
Yo soy Jesús de Judea, vivo, muerto, con luz propia, crucificado, envuelto en rosas, en todas partes, los puentes, las manchas, los cuellos, las malas palabras, el **** el día y la noche, tinta, papel de arroz, copal y oro. Todo, todos.
[
Entre dos montañas y un río,
el Buda más grande de la Tierra se sienta.
En su oreja izquierda, sin embargo,
vive una familia de golondrinas.
]
Esta es mi venganza, piedra verde, chiquillo de la nada.
Oct 29, 2012
Oct 29, 2012 at 4:09 PM UTC
POLAND, France, Judea ran in her veins,
Singing to Paris for bread, singing to Gotham in a fizz at the pop of a bottle's cork.
"Won't you come and play wiz me" she sang ... and "I just can't make my eyes behave."
"Higgeldy-Piggeldy," "Papa's Wife," "Follow Me" were plays.
Did she wash her feet in a tub of milk? Was a strand of pearls sneaked from her trunk? The newspapers asked.
Cigarettes, tulips, pacing horses, took her name.
Twenty years old ... thirty ... forty ...
Forty-five and the doctors fathom nothing, the doctors quarrel, the doctors use silver tubes feeding twenty-four quarts of blood into the veins, the respects of a prize-fighter, a cab driver.
And a little mouth moans: It is easy to die when they are dying so many grand deaths in France.
A voice, a shape, gone.
A baby bundle from Warsaw ... legs, torso, head ... on a hotel bed at The Savoy.
The white chiselings of flesh that flung themselves in somersaults, straddles, for packed houses:
A memory, a stage and footlights out, an electric sign on Broadway dark.
She belonged to somebody, nobody.
No one man owned her, no ten nor a thousand.
She belonged to many thousand men, lovers of the white chiseling of arms and shoulders, the ivory of a laugh, the bells of song.
Railroad brakemen taking trains across Nebraska prairies, lumbermen jaunting in pine and tamarack of the Northwest, stock ranchers in the middle west, mayors of southern cities
Say to their pals and wives now: I see by the papers Anna Held is dead.
2.1k
A BRIGHT STAR OVER BETHLEHEM!
* By Raj Nandy*
“We three kings of Orient are,
Bearing gifts we travel afar;
Field and fountain, moor and mountain, -
Following the yonder star ! “
- A Christmas Carol.
Named Casper, Melchior, and Balthasar, - @
The Three Wise Men came from the East,
Traveling west guided by a bright Star,
To seek out the child born under this lucky
Star ;
And to pay their homage and before him kneel,
For He was to become the Savior and King !
They brought Him precious gifts of Gold,
Frankincense, and Myrrh, -
Which were also symbolic gifts by far!
Precious Gold has been a gift for royalty always,
For the baby Jesus was to become the uncrowned
King one day!
Frankincense as a soothing perfume was really
good ,
Which also symbolized His future priesthood !
Myrrh as an embalming ointment was being used,
By the ancient Egyptians as a preserving perfume! #
This gift of Myrrh was like a breath of new life
in the prevailing gloom;
While symbolizing His sorrowing, suffering, and
crucifixion;
And leading to His final resurrection, -
To save mankind from their sinful affliction!
So Friends, when you celebrate Christmas this
year,
Let us with love bring hope and good cheer!
And help to wipe out those sorrowing tears, -
By giving gifts to those destitute children and
bless,
Since we generally tend to forget them always!
And let our gifts become a true symbol, -
HIS kindness and love let them reflect and
resemble!
………………………………………………………………..........................................
A Very Happy Christmas To All My Reader!
NOTES : - @ = One 8th Century AD manuscript says that these three Wise Men were also astrologers, who had known about the Prophecy of the birth of Jesus who was to be the King of the Jews! They were guided by a Bright Star which had shone over the town of Bethlehem in Judea, ruled by the mad King Herod! Their three symbolic Gifts signified the King, the Priest, and the Savior of Mankind respectively! From the ‘Gospel of Matthews’ we learn that
King Herod had told them to inform him about the Baby’s location! But since they had been forewarned by a dream, they returned by a different route! So Herod gave orders to **** all children 2 years and below, fearing this ‘King of the Jews’ will one day take over his throne!
#MYRRH = was being used by the Egyptians during the 5th century BC,
which they had obtained from Africa. It was used in incense, in perfumes , & in holy ointments; mostly for embalming ; - signifying Jesus was to die for mankind ! Thanks for reading, – Raj.
,
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 3:18 AM UTC
964
“Unto Me?” I do not know you—
Where may be your House?
“I am Jesus—Late of Judea—
Now—of Paradise”—
Wagons—have you—to convey me?
This is far from Thence—
“Arms of Mine—sufficient Phaeton—
Trust Omnipotence”—
I am spotted—”I am Pardon”—
I am small—”The Least
Is esteemed in Heaven the Chiefest—
Occupy my House”—
2k
it shocks me to think that i let you touch me the way that you did,
your fingers dipped into my skin and an arm slung my neck.
you left an imprint that will never leave.
i have rubbed my skin pink and raw countless times but i am never truly clean.
who am i more disgusted with?
myself,
for letting this happen?
or you,
for still having the nerve to get so close- hot breath prickling the back of my neck, sparking skin, inferno eyes- and tell me our game is done?
yes, the game i was never told we were playing... every tiny motion, every syllable, every touch… just a simple strategy to win.
i was unknowingly an opponent that you sought to knock down.
you never even let me know the rules.
now you flinch at the touch you once so lovingly leaned into.
(i use the word “lovingly” sarcastically, of course. you and i both know that, to you, there is no such thing as love. only winning or losing.)
so, you’ve emerged a victor. what’s your prize? tears that leave me hollow on the inside? midnight migraines while i long for a love that will never come?
does it fill you with satisfaction to watch the way i tremble when you come near?
you keep the trophies of every body you’ve invaded along the shelf of your room. i’m sure you run your finger over the plastic lip and think about the way her breath hitched and eyes fluttered shut when you did the same to her. she tastes like golden-plated achievements, doesn’t she?
but what you already have is not enough. you are constantly on the lookout for another medal, another souvenir from her heart.
you will make her laugh, deep from her stomach that causes her head to snap back. her chest will feel heavy when she looks at you.
(but it is not love.)
you will give her those half-lidded gazes and whisper in her ear and trace patterns into her side.
(but it is not love.)
you will get close- far too close.
(but it is not love.)
then you will sever that thin thread between you both.
dip it in gasoline.
set it on fire.
add fuel to the flames with a few venomous words.
but you are not to blame.
it is never your fault, is it?
misunderstood,
that’s what you are.
acrylic fingertips
and regurgitated phrases.
Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
of course i left the shit-holes traumatised,
if i didn't read extensively i'd be
stuck in some slum for immigrants -
i mean, who, in, their, right, frame, of, mind
would teach children the basis
of abortion, among lessons about sniffing
glue (a practice in the Ukraine)
as if the 1960s psychedelic revolution never
took place? only the catholic church,
which loves the ****** of a John Smith...
i might as well be listening to Billy Joel
rolling a ****** Jesus... **** off...
take your little school while i learn
from the stoic Marcus Aurelius... seriously
Ben Hur und Aesop to you too! go on grovel
on your message: gehen nord...
yeah, because the romans were evil to incorporate
Judea into its pond empire...
the north men clashed with the jews in the Holocaust;
head north jesus said... so they headed in fakes...
polnisch hebräisch: Jiddisch Yiddish Jesus Jehovah
the tetragrammaton, ********
like they built the ******* pyramids...
sheep, sheep, sheep; i do better drumming
for the rhythm guitars than anyone,
esp. Billy on the MTV single hit about Australian
bushfire and a long list of names with rock around
the clock of Bill Haley & His Comets and oh ****** days
on the McDonald boulevard.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 7:56 PM UTC
Love means: no surrender;
No weapons thrown to the ground,
Don Quixote charging windmills,
Just to knock the giants down.
Love means: no more evils;
No more swallowed poison pills,
Men taking deadly medicine,
But it won’t cure the chills.
Love means: coming back again;
Never having to abstain,
From every sweet indulgence,
You never can contain.
Love means: the Heart’s evince;
A radiance not know here since,
A true mind took the blade,
And the bodkin took the prince.
Love means: no masquerade;
All our truth on Parade,
You don’t have to take the cross,
But you can’t stop the crusade.
Love means: No more loss;
All deep chasms bridged across.
You can still blow out the candle,
But you can’t switch it off.
Love means: souls entangled;
Entwined as dangling bangles,
Draw about your neck,
All other feeling strangled.
Love means: complete respect;
Unconditionally, you needn’t check.
Undeniably, we all need it.
Unconsciously, you feel effects.
Love means: The grand idea;
Conquering without fear.
And until Maria returns to Judea,
The truth is: Amor vincit omnia.
Aug 30, 2010
Aug 30, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
In a juncture of three years he traipsed ***** nilly close to christ
He was the treasurer and all the finances he kept safe in a pouch hanging on his chest
He was a chosen in the midst of the chosen twelve he existed
All the miracles the son of man performed he witnessed
In his gospel all he recorded
Yet deep within he charred with bitterness he was dissapointed with the long awaited messiah
Tears of hatred soaked his soul
Ironically he felt betrayed this is not the saviour he had longed for
His iron heart had yearned for revolution
All his selfish heart wanted was the surrender of the roman
His heart pumped blood saturated with patriotism and christ with his spiritual
Kingdom was a foe of the jews whose throat were parched with the thirst of a political king
He had been preordained and he had to fulfill the divine decree
It was a calling he couldn't overcome
Thats when the ministry of christ was done and together they sat to eat the last meal the lord dropped a hint about him
He sopped a bread in wine and urged him to hastily fulfill his mission as the other disciples sat there clueless
This was a golden chance for he knew by assuming the role of a traitor he will precipitate the action of messiah and induce him to manifest his miraculous powers
For he longed for this savior to perfom the miracle he had pergorme throughout judea
For thirty pieces of silver he betrayed his master Because of his greed he condemned an innocent man to be banished from the land of living to abyss
And when the son of man was condemned his sense of guilt stirred from a deep slumber
He became despondent at his repulse by the chief priest and elders he cast down the accursed payment into the santuary
The gnawing guilt took him to a tree and with a thread rope he terminated his life
He burst asunder and for hundred year the smell of his bowels lingered in the potters field of which the betrayal money bought
On the hill of skull the man on the cross breathed last and into hell he descended not only to settle scores with the lord of underwords lucifer but to free the soul of his follower from abyss
For it was written he had to die for salvation of humankind and his betrayer was the first to b redempted
The man called judas triggered a series of pretold happening
The man called judas fulfilled old centuries prophecy
The man called judas ensured redemption knocked in every sinners door
The man called judas jumpsttsarted the birth of christianity
The man called judas need a better slot in our history
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 7:37 AM UTC
I can’t help thinking
that almost every girl I meet
could possibly, potentially be,
yes, a screamer in the sack,
or better, a soul mate in the sack,
or even a confidant in a coffee shop, or anywhere.
And then they could jointly rule my kingdom
imperiously, like the Queen of Babylon,
or maybe Bathsheba, who was having a bath
when David espied her and then jumped her in his boudoir.
I suppose an exhibitionist needs a ******
Gee. But it wasn't kosher for David, the King of Judea,
to then have murdered Bathsheba's husband, Uriah,
so he could afterwards marry her.
What? Yeah, this is all in that whodunnit,
the first tabloid, the Old Testament.
But look, I'm getting away from the path here.
What I'm talking about is girls that I innocently meet
without trying to get them in closer.
I don't spy on girls in the bath or the shower
and I don't have anyone murdered for *** or for power.
Or for anything! I'm a writer, see?
I simply imagine, inside my head,
that we all fall fabulously in love,
and blow our minds instead.
Mike T Minehan
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 1:15 PM UTC
American arrogance
Notwithstanding
Our benevolence
Being unfurled
Ego and influence
Ever expanding
Now we' re policing
The whole ******* world
My father was bled in Korea
Cousins slaughtered in nam
Now the prize is Judea
Tell me why I should
Give a God damm
There is no stopping genocide
Human nature is covered in blood
Take this little fact
Mix in some pride
Leaves Africa swimming in mud
I don't care
What they do to each other
I have two sons
So I don't give a damm
Tell me why
You think I should bother
We will always be bleeding the lamb. Hy
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 7:45 AM UTC
East of Bethlehem of Judea
pastors kept watch over their flock
peacefully tending their sheep
when dazzled by a light
tidings of joy
An angel
Would bring
God
Poetic form :Nonet (9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-1)
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Perhaps none more
Surprised
Than me,
To scribe these words where none
But all, will forever, foresee.
I am the forgiving type,
But not the forgetting.
But tonight,
A poetic transformation!
Tonight, I will be a Christian two,
As well as a Jew.
If I had a minyan
(10 Jews required to pray collectively)
of Francis-men, I could rule the world,
If that thought would ever cross their minds.
Nine Francis-men and one Jew,
Call him, mmmmm, call me, say Yeshua.
They asked me if I would
Write a little poem-number
And I wrote with all my might
Took this unconsecrated writ,
To the ten,
Asking if it was any good,
In agreement to the man, saying:
You may have trod the streets of Jerusalem,
Walked on the Galilee,
Lived upon the mounts and in the desert of Judea,
None matters, miracles too,
You may know Talmud, law and commentary,
But not by this will you, your doctrine be judged,
Who are we to critique, judge,
A man, even a poet, of good will,
If his poetry is any good?
Are we not all sinners, all poet-sinners,
But answer us this:
"Tell us are you a Christian child?"
And I said,
"Men, I am tonight"
Sep 20, 2013
Sep 20, 2013 at 5:55 PM UTC
Tienes, como Luzbel, formas tan bellas,
Que eí hombre olvida al verte, enamorado,
Que son tus ojos negros dos estrellas
Veladas por la sombra del pecado.
Y no turbas, hipócrita, el reposo
Del pobre hogar con que tu falta escudas,
Porque a besar te atreves al esposo,
Como besara a Jesucristo Judas.
¡Aun sus flores te dan las primaveras,
Y ya tienes el alma envilecida!
Ya llegarás a ver, aunque no quieras,
El horizonte oscuro de tu vida.
Desdeñas los sagrados embelesos
Del casto hogar de la mujer honrada,
Y audaz ostentas, al vender tus besos,
Las llamas del infierno en tu mirada.
Manchas el suelo que tu planta pisa,
Y manchas lo que tocas con tu mano.
Te dio Lucrecia Borgia su sonrisa,
Y Mesalina su perfil romano.
Brota el deleite de tus labios rojos;
Se aparta la virtud a tu presencia,
Porque negras, más negras que tus ojos,
Tienes, mujer, el alma y la conciencia.
Rosas de abril parecen tus mejillas,
Mármol de Paros tu ondulante seno;
Mas ¡ay! que tan excelsas maravillas
Son de barro no más, no más de cieno.
Reina del mal, tú tienes por diadema
La infamia, que con nada se redime.
¿El pudor? ¡Es un ascua que te quema!
¿El deber? ¡Es un yugo que te oprime!
Tienen las gracias con que al mundo halagas,
Precio vil en mercados repugnantes;
¡Y te envaneces de cubrir tus llagas
Con seda recamada de brillantes!
En este siglo en que el honor campea,
No te ha de perdonar ni el vulgo necio.
Hieren más que las piedras de Judea
Los dardos de la burla y del desprecio.
Mañana, enferma, pobre, abandonada,
De la mundana compasión proscrita;
El Honor, cuando mueras humillada,
Sobre tu losa escribirá: ¡Maldita!
1.1k
A Shepherd and his 100 sheep walk among the hills of Judea.
It is a warm pleasant day
not too hot
not too cold
It is the perfect day for grazing.
Ninety-nine of the Shepherds sheep have stuck together
But one has left to do his own thing.
He jumps and runs away from the herd
Hiding from the Shepherd
The Shepherd leaves the runs after the sheep
searching high
and
searching low
but then
no more than twenty yards away he see it
He bolts towards him
screaming
cheering
crying
He was filled with such excitement that it echoes through the hills.
He looks his sheep in the eyes
so happy that he found him.
With his eyes swelling up with tears
He gently picks up his sheep
puts him over his shoulder an carries him back to the ninety-nine.
Oct 12, 2018
Oct 12, 2018 at 1:06 AM UTC
the “undifferentiated” ethnicity of western europe
is so ****** obnoxious,
i’ll sell this secret to the american youth,
they think eastern european people are as undifferentiated
as that quote about the chinese... ‘ah, but they all look alike,’
then i’ll make the romanians, the bulgars,
the poles, the lithuanians look alike and take london’s shard apart...
the western europeans think they have the eiffel they own romance,
the western europeans think they have the big ben they own all time,
this hope for a geographic orientation and bordering of
the a to z will be northern this time, no mention of syria or judea,
no mention of carthage,
i just hope the yugoslavs enter the realm and leave no blind spots,
they’re so obnoxious those western europeans collectivising ethnicities to a region,
let’s collectivise them as colonial labradors - so rich from the gold of africa
they need to leech on the least afraid of death in the cocoon of disabilities
of their own societies so that john pepperfork esq. the third
can shove his ***** into a dead pig’s snout at oxford,
let’s pay them back with smiles and nicely tailored suits...
and if that old testament story is true...
can the prince of wales please recite me the polish alphabet in full,
speak a sentence of the language fluently and without an accent?
because that would be hebrew for me of the mt. sinai identity vox par.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC
no man ever made a herring into an aero bubble bar
of a hot-chocolate healing
to ensure that all the rations of the healing goosebumps
of pickled penises were actually regurgitated
for memorabilia & postcards, and none
made representative of gherkins
doing the required prickling of an o.m.g.-spot
in salted brine to carve out an eve in northern judea:
frozen eden, pickled east, forever the labouring sun
of lost shadow - mein verlust... mein vorhaben.
when i die, i just want to speak german, that’s all.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 10:28 PM UTC
He was an unknown Ebenezer stone
A stone he was, gloriously still
Cold, dull, ready to be honed
A symbol of help, if not for the lack of will
Others have told him he was useless
Of which he had no answer to reply
Ignorant that he was overly blessed
He lived like he was not God's eternal ally
Until the truth was revealed that he was but a stone
Which lies within the Potter's hand
A brightly shining diamond meant for God's throne
A shimmering gem of hope, he stood grand
This old Ebenezer of Israel and Judea
Discovered paradise out of the denial of a single idea
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 12:14 AM UTC
Christ:
He is the lamb who was slain at
Passover
for the sins of the world.
He is the Son of God,
He is God.
The Alpha and Omega,
the first and the last.
He is the only one
found worthy to open
the seals
of the scrolls
in Revelation.
Immanuel.
He is the King of Israel
and of Judea
Ruler of all the earth.
He is the Lion.
Holding the scepter
prophesied by Jacob called Israel:
the one to whom it belongs
has come.
He is worthy.
So let now,
heaven and earth forever sing,
as we bow the one true God,
"To him who sits on the throne and to the Lamb
be praise and honor and glory and power,
for ever and ever!"
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
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Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 4:23 AM UTC
"Mary, why is it that thee comfort me so, when mine twelve
and the multitudes of Judea, plead for me to grant them
aid and succor in this world, when I can only promise them
peace in the next? Do ye not also wish from me things I have
not the power to give?"
"Ieshua, I have loved you all the long years of our lives, since the
moment we played with sticks and sand upon the shores of Galilee. We were children and even then I knew that my love would be filled with sorrow and longing for you. Your Father, even in those gentle times held sway over you. We were very young and I sought to kiss you when your earthly father and mother were away at the market. Our lips touched and our hearts turned to fire, and you lept away, banishing me from your sacred heart."
Years passed and Jesus the carpenters' son, Prophet and Savior yet to be
never forgot Mary of the Magdalene, she who held sway over his heart
while his Father in Heaven guided His Son upon a path unforseen.
The moment that Jesus of Nazareth, and Mary of Magdalene
may have indeed lay down together as man and wife,
matters not at all, in spite of what those angry priests say.
She and He, their Love, guides me.
Jan 17, 2015
Jan 17, 2015 at 3:26 AM UTC