"juggernaut" poems
I'm looking down watching what you do
As if i'm Uatu the Watcher
Or maybe I'm controlling you
Like the evil Puppet Master
See you have no control in life
This is my world and I'm just allowin you to live in it
It's like I'm eating up planets with Galactus
And creating chaos with Apocalypse
I'm in control of my actions
Choosing to do wrong
Only to wait until my redemption by the hands of the worthy
You're inside my head like Charles Xavier
Trying to find out my secrets
Only to discover that I keep my mental barriers on lock
With no key or code to unlock
Said passageway into my subconsious
Because I can block you without a helmet
Unlike Juggernaut or Magneto
I'm free to swing around with the good wall crawler known as
Scarlet Spider
Hah
And write up my own unique flows with no worries
I don't need the X-men or Avengers
Or my friendly neighborhood Spider-Man
To know that I have some great repsonsibilities on my shoulders
Weighing me down like a ton of bricks
And I don't need someone like Doom
Telling me how to be a leader
When we all know his leadership skills could use some attention
I'm an enigma
Close to what Deadpool would say is
Very unique
Before muttering towards the wall
As if it were his faithful audience
I know who I am
I know what I do
So simply put
I'm freaking awesome
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 11:19 PM UTC
Prowling through the undergrowth
In our barging juggernaut,
Ploughing the rolling hills of water,
Which crease as the narrowboat sluggishly gliding past,
Brushes the bulrushes like a tiger in the reeds.
For four intrepid days
Our film and photographs are empty to show,
No sign, only missed whispers,
Of the hummingbird blue blur.
A darting flash cresting the morning chill,
Regal turquoise stealthily steals
Our attention, our focus, and our tiller
Noses toward the bank hugger.
And we have him.
Small amber-royal fisherman,
Eclipsing his heron heralds
And the swans silent vigil
In majestic lapis lazuli.
Swift and sure he graces the water,
Fisher King,
Which bends beneath his dive.
Resurfacing, his golden breast
Mottled with silver minnow.
There recluse in his exclusive spot,
Fish foundering still in the ******
The kingfisher's poise frames his catch
Aperture, shutter, captured shot.
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy! Holy!
The world is holy! The soul is holy! The skin is holy!
The nose is holy! The tongue and **** and hand
and ******* holy!
Everything is holy! everybody's holy! everywhere is
holy! everyday is in eternity! Everyman's an
angel!
The bum's as holy as the seraphim! the madman is
holy as you my soul are holy!
The typewriter is holy the poem is holy the voice is
holy the hearers are holy the ecstasy is holy!
Holy Peter holy Allen holy Solomon holy Lucien holy
Kerouac holy Huncke holy Burroughs holy Cas-
sady holy the unknown buggered and suffering
beggars holy the hideous human angels!
Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the *****
of the grandfathers of Kansas!
Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop
apocalypse! Holy the jazzbands marijuana
hipsters peace & junk & drums!
Holy the solitudes of skyscrapers and pavements! Holy
the cafeterias filled with the millions! Holy the
mysterious rivers of tears under the streets!
Holy the lone juggernaut! Holy the vast lamb of the
middle class! Holy the crazy shepherds of rebell-
ion! Who digs Los Angeles IS Los Angeles!
Holy New York Holy San Francisco Holy Peoria &
Seattle Holy Paris Holy Tangiers Holy Moscow
Holy Istanbul!
Holy time in eternity holy eternity in time holy the
clocks in space holy the fourth dimension holy
the fifth International holy the Angel in Moloch!
Holy the sea holy the desert holy the railroad holy the
locomotive holy the visions holy the hallucina-
tions holy the miracles holy the eyeball holy the
abyss!
Holy forgiveness! mercy! charity! faith! Holy! Ours!
bodies! suffering! magnanimity!
Holy the supernatural extra brilliant intelligent
kindness of the soul!
Berkeley 1955
4.3k
Fields stretch, of paper white
And grey as day is losing light
Alone I rally muscles fight
So I be home before the night
Wind will chill me gill to gill
As ice will render muscles still
Sheltered not from cruel chill
So I will make my journey still
Long I jog, through howling clatter
Jaw wont move, unless to chatter
Hearing sweat drops frozen, shatter
Movement warms my sleepy matter
Locomotive losing speed
Juggernaut has lost the need
Lifeless muscles need to feed
Yet still i beg them, "forward heed!"
In the distance- lights are lit!
I call, but silenced in a fit
My throat is scratched by icy spit
As I collapse in snow,
that's it.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 9:29 AM UTC
It's in his shadow we plead
Under his wrath we bleed
His destruction leaks hate into the weak
Leaving the unsubstantial reaping his critique
His actions scorned through years of neglect
It's in his perception only, that we become wrecked
Why do we follow knowing wrong from right
Pushing those we love away from the light
His power is without doubt equal to the greats
Although derived from stray minded it opens the gates
The gates into the souls of those who are tattered
Turning old memories to ones now shattered
Although through it all, we have nothing to fear
For he is nothing more than a broken mirror
It just takes practice to realize his weakness
All his power is nothing to the strong but bleakness
It's in his own prison he will rot
Although it's up to us to become the Juggernaut
-Joseph B Schneider
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 10:19 PM UTC
The tension is mounting, standing in line
Bass reverberates, the sound of things to come
Manic conversation and body language animation
Staying awake until we see the sun.
Enter the venue greeted by sticky collective body heat
The treble of the onslaught of noise now palpable
Without thinking, i begin to move my feet
Becoming one with the masses of bodies moving in unison.
The milk of the night, one in my hand from a mate
I drink it down as I become expectant
Excitedly waiting for my body to be seized
And exited by a juggernaut of positive emotions.
Every stranger is a one minute friend
Micro moments of love become my guide for the night
The music sounds like the songs of the gods
The rhythm and percussion of an underground ritual.
Every touch and taste and sound is heightened
An emanating aura of love surrounds the crowd
Smiles, laughs, hugs and high-fives
Throwing shapes and boogieing down.
As the party creator closes down the night
Masses pour outside drowned by early sunlight
All in search of a beach or after-hours haunt
To continue on their hedonic treadmill.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 2:27 PM UTC
a polar vortex
swirls eastward
on Siberian Tiger paws
bounding over
Appalachian Highlands
gobbling geography
gelling Great Lakes
spawning Erie blizzards
sculpting Wabash ice floes
clogging commerce all
along the Ohio River Valley
this voracious
juggernaut’s wide maw
bears icicle teeth
laughing as it swallows
Pittsburgh, Little Philly,
and a Big Apple, before
gorging itself on
generous portions
ladled into
simmering crocks
of steaming
Boston Baked Beans
growling
blue arctic
air blasts roar
bursts pipes
savages the heat
of blasting furnaces,
bubbling boilers, hot
belly stoves frantically
drinking oil, flaming gas
burning wood and
burping soot
the blistering
jet stream claws
screech a slashing
stratospheric hum
as Frigidaire blasts
swallows breath
brittles limbs
chafes cheeks
gnaws earlobes
crystallizes tears
nibbles nostrils
cubes snot
numbs toes
bites digits
diving sub zero
gradient subdues
batteries to
deaden states
delays buses
derails trains
cuts power
constricts veins
preys on
vagabonds
and animals
get the homeless
off the street!
bring the animals in
check on your
elderly neighbors
don’t get caught outside
and shut the **** door!
do you own stock
in the Public Service?
beware the polar vortex
and next months heating bill
Sonny Boy Williamson
& Otis Spann
Nine Below Zero
Oakland
1/6/14
jbm
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
will the French
please stop stealing words
from Pretty Olde English?
we can’t but fix a secret meeting
and choose a rendezvous
and we discover the French have already
stolen every secret including the word rendezvous!
Oh, the French, when will
they stop this pilfering of English vocabulary?
I buy some trinkets and stuff for my beau
and they tell me my beau has been taken by the French –
and to add insult to injury
(those thieves!)
they’ve stolen all the stuff too!
Oh, there’s no stopping the French.
I can’t even sit to dine and say
“Bon appetit!”
and they steal my words,
and they run off with the dessert…
and would you believe it?
those cunning French,
they even steal the restaurant and its décor!
Oh, the evil French, will they never stop this? -
stealing from fecund English, so simple and innocent…
You see, even the Great Poet John Keats
he starts his poem in English
La Belle Dame sans Merci
and no sooner had he written the title,
the French stole the very words! -
and so ****** off was our Romantic John Keats,
he wrote the poem itself
in what he hoped could never be Frenched!
Ah, the French…would you please stealing
words from our Fair Damsel English….
And the Chindians too!
Chindians?
you know,
the Chinese and the Indians together!
(Yes, it’s a new word,
shows how inventive English is.)
Well, the Chinese have done it with
a smile and a kowtow! –
there you go, while you bow or cringe,
the Chinese steal the kowtow;
and before our very own eyes
today even in our modern world
the Chinese steal words like Dao, Zen, taofu,
chi, and feng shui;
and the Indians, not to be beaten,
and perhaps with a vengeance
to deal a fatal blow to the Raj,
they steal words like: nirvana, pundits, yoga,
juggernaut, pepper and curry
And of course
there are many more tribes and nations
in this merry global **** of Gloriana English
and there’s just nothing Britannia can do about it!
Oh, what’s the world coming to
when our Plain Jane English is molested like this;
and so I do my part
the Dark Knight coming to her rescue -
perhaps this earnest appeal in verse
will touch the hearts of the beasts and dragons
and they’ll keep their claws away
from our Fair Helpless Dame English
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 11:06 PM UTC
1
Another space arrives. The newborn cries.
And the destiny determined:
Oven or matchstick.
Descendant of both; inheritor of another:
A machine that dreams itself into being,
Dragging its sleeping subjects after it.
Sustenance of nightmares, the food of what
God is, blood the earth pumps forth.
The plastic legacy is siphoned off,
Its artifacts cheap jewellery:
Enamel glinting white and turquoise.
Flimsy chains that never last,
And yet last forever, the paint flaking off.
So too does the rust on this delicate orchid.
It is an oracle of poisons.
2
The city burns in its incandescence.
The indelible halo
Of a lime-green candelabra
Makes light of midnight. Our slumber is
Punctured by gunshots and the drone of the
Ambulance.
Not a foot but a juggernaut,
Pandora’s box,
Sowing the seeds of your distress.
Fallout marks the potent epoch.
The neon octopus spews it back,
Invisible print on the murderous air.
Where water drinks
No diving bell can bear
The pressure of such fuchsia.
Oct 10, 2016
Oct 10, 2016 at 9:54 AM UTC
I am a man obsessed with perfection
No amount of smoke and mirrors will lead me to misdirection
Like an arrow I fly straight into my target, my goal
Falling short is not an option; I must accomplish my journey and feel whole
Although I feel as though I’ve been placed into the pit of Sparta
Punished for my greediness, looking up at the light of accomplishment, wondering how it’d feel on my skin
But that is only where I begin
Fore I shall climb from the darkness of the pit and become a martyr
And I’ll do it with ease, if that’s what it takes
Give it everything I’ve got, know the stakes
I know this will one day consume me, ruin me, destroy me
But until then, I take who I am and display for everyone to see
I’ve struggled all my life and now I’m going to make it
This isn’t no ****** there’s no reason to fake it
Open up to show my true colours, for better or worse, rhythm or rhyme
Let the earth spin into darkness, I’ve got nothing but time
Knock me down, I’ll be returning like a mummy, bringing plaques and placing a curse
I’m only getting better, for my competition it’s bound to get worse
Nothing can keep me, down not even the weather
Like Icarus I’ll gather my feathers
Spread my wings wide and fly
Leave the sky
Go passed the moon and to the sun
Make it melt, bask in revenge and call it done
Fore I am a man obsessed with perfection
I am the juggernaut of progression
Although only I see myself continuing this momentum
Irrelevant, I will seek my destination running through shadows like a phantom
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 3:24 AM UTC
Whirlwind, claws out, air piercing precision
Listen to the howl, a fast recognition
Unleashed, breaking point, adrenaline taking to affect
Not hard to direct yet reason in mind isn't easy to collect
Juggernaut effect neglecting obstacles and environment
a trail of awaiting riders to Hades left after onslaught engagement
Circumvention dies away once the fury comes and so do they
Red sight, Blind fight, no feeling til' the end of prey
awoken after feral blaze
setting eyes upon with astounding gaze
a look into the beast inside
suppressed for worth of glory's height
An inner peace attained, neglecting the vice
The obscurity in plain and open sight
Damage done, no turning back
The wolverine's sun setting and fading with his tracks
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 5:13 AM UTC
Hypnotizing Swirl
The last time I saw you, my mind was an intensified and frigid blast from the polarized north.
I held onto your body and our breath emitted a spiritual corona which enveloped us in love.
We dwelled within a single abode intertwining our illuminated vessels.
Within this shrine resides the sacred enamorment that placed me in a trance…
-A hypnotizing swirl.-
Spirited away, in this moment, I moon the time away awaiting the evolution, the bloom, the metamorphosis, the efflorescence of your quintessence.
Like a delicate orchid of the brightest evergreen stem.
An exuberant and illustrious flower, a symbol of our love, it has intertwined our beings with the seeds of rejuvenation sown into our souls.
Today when I see you, like a broken record in my mind, I am detached.
I am a juggernaut, a sentinel who guards sanity within the confines of an indomitable fortress.
My dream has been nurtured in a pink dreamer’s chest; my treasure is a myriad of aromatic petals sealed away.
Upon this parcel, the benediction of amor has been bestowed.
Moonbeams and iridescent butterflies dwindle upon its rosy and stout exterior.
The Universe’s tears glimmer upon the castle walls housing my fantasy, my tenuous and ethereal hope bound to break at any moment.
-An epiphany can change things you know.-
“How do I know that my beseeching cries shall reach the Transcendental in the Realm of the Tenuous and Divine?”
-Only faith and virtue can allow me to reach the pinnacle of my desires-
To a Shattered and Reassembled Dream.
By, Sanders Maurice Foulke III
Apr 7, 2012
Apr 7, 2012 at 9:03 PM UTC
so... it's no longer enough that
i learn your language,
into a p.s. of conversational
etiquette -
addressing the confrontational
assertion of the existence
of orthography,
minding your, Germanic,
metaphysical ********
and then...
i'm, supposed, to,
listen to your average citizen,
dictating rules,
like some sort of king?!
i'll drink a beer, walking
past the east ham central mosque...
and i'll be like:
getting the **** eyes ******
you stare -
in reply: you know what?
do it... **** it... do it...
make me a ******* martyr...
but i'm going to drink this beer,
feeding a solidarity of the 7/7 commuters...
hence my teasing...
once i'll burn scissors and
craft a tattoo on my arm...
once i'll put out a cigarette
on my left hand's knuckle...
the everyday englishman who "thinks"
he's king...
i'm thinking... plum hues
to replace mascara... with a *******
fist...
no... private property,
is private property...
now i'm gagging for a fist
frisking! i'm less trigger happy,
and more, european,
i.e. knuckles itchy!
i want to juggernaut something
down...
and then start biting into it!
any obnoxious englighman,
being a **** will satiated my
palette.
GNASH GNASH GNASH...
i want... a chance...
to scoop clean...
the "riddle" of meaty chicken
schnacks of drum-sticks...
fiddle fiddle, fiddle me something...
i want to engage in a 1, 2,
punch & bite something...
attempting to relieve itself
from physical confrontation,
having exhausted its verbal allowance.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
.*as e ver... i didn't come to these isles to find a Saxon blond... i came here for the "ginger", the autumn beauty weaving in the hair... a shy blonde, a decomposing strawberry, a heap of hay... a fox... who needs a fetish for blonde, when you can be satiated by... red?! the Celtic blonde is known as red: ***** phoenix blonde! all red blood red... all that is: the color and the remaining milk of the skin, and that: chess-board of freckles!*
abookutopia
evil giggle / chuckle,
perhaps both...
what?!
ha ha!
girls reviewing books?
oh, now you have to be ******** me!
what where's what?
what's what?
dream dragon dream...
am i supposed to be the ***
that says something?!
**** i am..
i'm not...
can the girls be anything else
than red hair...
i can't fathom red hair....
but... when she has lost
her virginity...
mm...
what?
who said what?
sometimes?
i become a freak...
*** addict:
hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!
like eating doughnuts
when it comes to oral ***
and an ***
mumbling juggernaut...
what?!
huh?!
ginger....
hair... ginger hair...
ginger *****
can't help it...
the moon is most bright when it's full...
what?!
red hair...
carrots... seven ways....
what?!
milk skin, freckles,
ginger...
what?!
sun-soaked-orange...
greased-auburn...
carrot-tail...
ginger *****
i'm thinking of the right words...
hegemony of secrets...
ah!
mahogany of the collected
palette of autumn!
kneel...
***** kneel...
what the **** did i just say?
oh right...
George III antics...
as you do,
watery,
with the glass eyes escaping,
or in vain attempt,
ensuring a sanity with
the encouraging madness
of the said, times,
horn bred to find...
the Celtic Blonde
of ruby...
the superior breed of
aesthetic.
Sep 28, 2018
Sep 28, 2018 at 12:41 AM UTC
Drawing upon the core of my being, I muster up the strength to survive.
Stepping into another plane of existence; one in which I have no capacity to resist toxicity; I am vulnerable.
A juggernaut lies at the end of the daylight hours; soft in temper and yet scourging in it’s pronouncements.
This is a being with no malicious intent; a sentinel guarding the sacred caliber of a spirit under divine instruction.
Darkness pervades in the form of light; I can sense a façade of purity within the confines of my bones.
This fortress that I have traversed into is infected with a murky haze looming just above the skies.
Escape is my only option; if I remain here it will be my demise.
When the juggernaut arrives, trepidation will electrify my soul; it will animate me.
Fear consumes me with every waking second I’m in it’s midst.
-This gargantuan being understands-
Empathy cannot save me however, once the utterances of ancient spirit inflict scathing wounds upon me in the name of humanity.
Attempting to rescue me from the tumult of the planet does not obscure the pain and heartache of compassionate words.
Wisdom lies within this walking tome; statue-esque maiden.
I have used my discernment as a bulwark; protection from wounds of sensitivity lies in detachment from myself.
I have come to realize that supplication does have a purpose.
-To plea with the remnants of a long forgotten world-
I am overwhelmed with euphoria when I realize that my fears have been nothing but stymie.
Fleeting in nature; they whispered to me of my incapacity to reach the heart of a relic growing wiser by the minute.
There is no judgment to be passed and I have been emancipated from the shackles of a foreshadowing past.
It leads to my genesis; the day when I shall be lifted up past all my iniquity.
Until that day, I await the metamorphosis of an ailing planet.
The Juggernaut does have a purpose.
This maiden shall be a beacon amongst the tumult of the seasons.
I shall look to her as a guide and honesty is what shall pervade from her lips.
In trueness she shall bestow her utterances upon me.
Like the sweetest honey, her words will befall my eardrums.
Internalization spurs a chemical reaction within me.
I am changing.
I have been enveloped by blinding rays of light.
The darkness is no match for the spiritual sinew that I possess.
I am growing by the second… I am growing prayer by prayer.
-Amen-
By Iridescently Efflorescent
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Every man has a calling
And my nitch is writing.
Mama gave me life and my name,
But poetry completes me.
Bless your soul Queen,
For my path is green
And my deeds are pure,
I couldn't ask for more.
I'm not a president.
But my words are important.
I don't need bodyguards
Only some pens and pads.
I'm not an astronaut
But a poetic juggernaut.
No ,I'm not a pianist,
But I play the note of a realist.
I'm a wordsmith and sageist,
That's better than a freak or sadist.
Call me a vessel of wisdom
Or frown and rot in boredom.
I may not be a musician
I spin words like a magician.
I'm a deep thinker and poet,
A writer and future laureate.
Jah gave me a unique gift
I'll therefore use it to uplift.
With it I can write, motivate.
Inspire, impact and create.
©IB-Poetry
25/11/2018
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 5:37 AM UTC
I'm caught in a forest
My glass frame is jagged and shattered
I give in to a distant call to rest
And I search for somewhere to lay my head
The forest is quiet
A whisp broke me and left
And I'm alone to care for a grove
I am broken, I am scared, I am upset
Something ahead of me
Trapped in the overgrowth
It can't be!
My armor, my friend, my beautiful cog!
Oh! What have I done to you?
I check it's inner workings
Gears clogged with vines and branches
Iron rusted through
Until I wander deep enough
And I find the source of my distant whisper
My hearth
Once a great and burning flame
To move my cog so powerfully
So patiently
Subserviently
I climb in
And flames long dead begin to burn once more
It melts my glass
And smooths me out
And I lay my head to rest
I close my eyes
When I open them again
I see through the juggernaut's eyes
And I burn so hot from my pain
The overgrowth burns away
Rusted parts shatter away
A plume of smoke billows from me
I am a cog once more
I feel so heavy
So tired
But oh so powerful
A great machine finds me in this grove
And offers me a place in it's inner workings
Other cogs inside, made of shining steel greet me
We grind and toil away
And I feel so at home
After harming and being harmed by a beautiful whisp
Who I now understand never truly understood me
Nor did I understand them
They fled from me
Left me so alone
But I am strong once more
I am so tired
I feel safe and complacent
So I will rest and let my body fall into routine
I will sleep
I will obey my new machine
I will dream
Feb 20, 2021
Feb 20, 2021 at 11:46 AM UTC
Drawing upon the core of my being, I muster up the strength to survive.
Stepping into another plane of existence; one in which I have no capacity to resist toxicity; I am vulnerable.
A juggernaut lies at the end of the daylight hours; soft in temper and yet scourging in it’s pronouncements.
This is a being with no malicious intent; a sentinel guarding the sacred caliber of a spirit under divine instruction.
Darkness pervades in the form of light; I can sense a façade of purity within the confines of my bones.
This fortress that I have traversed into is infected with a murky haze looming just above the skies.
Escape is my only option; if I remain here it will be my demise.
When the juggernaut arrives, trepidation will electrify my soul; it will animate me.
Fear consumes me with every waking second I’m in it’s midst.
-This gargantuan being understands-
Empathy cannot save me however, once the utterances of ancient spirit inflict scathing wounds upon me in the name of humanity.
Attempting to rescue me from the tumult of the planet does not obscure the pain and heartache of compassionate words.
Wisdom lies within this walking tome; statue-esque maiden.
I have used my discernment as a bulwark; protection from wounds of sensitivity lies in detachment from myself.
I have come to realize that supplication does have a purpose.
-To plea with the remnants of a long forgotten world-
I am overwhelmed with euphoria when I realize that my fears have been nothing but stymie.
Fleeting in nature; they whispered to me of my incapacity to reach the heart of a relic growing wiser by the minute.
There is no judgment to be passed and I have been emancipated from the shackles of a foreshadowing past.
It leads to my genesis; the day when I shall be lifted up past all my iniquity.
Until that day, I await the metamorphosis of an ailing planet.
The Juggernaut does have a purpose.
This maiden shall be a beacon amongst the tumult of the seasons.
I shall look to her as a guide and honesty is what shall pervade from her lips.
In trueness she shall bestow her utterances upon me.
Like the sweetest honey, her words will befall my eardrums.
Internalization spurs a chemical reaction within me.
I am changing.
I have been enveloped by blinding rays of light.
The darkness is no match for the spiritual sinew that I possess.
I am growing by the second… I am growing prayer by prayer.
-Amen-
By Iridescently Efflorescent
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
A Mass Inversion.
I have lived to witness an Apple
become a juggernaut
see the followers nod their heads in belief,
walking segregated on the streets
unaware of their own worship.
We have not yet realized
that the largest religion in the world
is no longer faith based,
technophiles fill our rural
and metro quintessential sprawl.
Their numbers swell
and burgeon with new converts
that give funding rank and file,
whom are taught to know indulgence
in name only, mistaking desire for need.
This technology based obsession
is without age or gender restrictions,
without race distinction,
it asks not for ethics,
pride,
morality,
intelligence or privacy.
It is all-consuming
just as any ideology-
as any religion,
answering the same fervent questions,
demanding tribute and changing the way you think.
-
The View Outside.
Among the whole, the slow mass conversion,
there is occasional dissension,
some who glorify a golden era or fill with nostalgia
for something they may not have even experienced,
an immaterial escapism of the present
furthered by a childish inability to accept ephemerality
and our irregular morality.
Sometimes amid this denial,
this abstaining,
there is a seed of anger that grows with gnarled roots
that twist throughout with nary a cry or shout.
It is a quiet anger,
unconditional and baseless but for an intensity,
a burning sense of being wronged,
an infection that spreads without exception.
And when your self-righteous halo eventually slips to catch
in your now flapping jaw,
your anger will fade as you choke on hard etched resolve.
Dec 21, 2010
Dec 21, 2010 at 9:29 AM UTC
---
when every last vestige of
your humanity seems to be
a jigsaw puzzle game
strewn across the universe
with no possibility of
retrieval
of all pieces
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when rage accosts the
very center of your heart
like a home invasion
taking with it
all the
milk of human kindness
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when your flowers die
in a blight of ice
the very roots
frozen in the tundra
and spring becomes winter
in the space of an hour
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when worry wrings your brain
like a fishwife with a towel
doubt lays a crooked wall
using your bones as a trowel
fear is a raven which
travels with the owl
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD
when evil wells out
of every pore of your existence
like sludge drained from
the bottom of a
juggernaut
TANK
KEEP YOUR MIND UPON THE LORD!
for Jesus Christ is the
puzzle piece
which restores
the entire game
---
He's the peace which
passes all understanding
the joy which is our strength
---
He is the
Rose of Sharon
which has no time nor season
but blooms eternally
---
He is the mechanic
who made all destruction
and will
DESTROY THE WORKS OF DARKNESS
**KEEP
YOUR
MIND
UPON
♡ JESUS CHRIST ♡**
THE AUTHOR AND FINISHER
OF OUR
~~~< F • A • I • T • H >~~~
SoulSurvivor
(C) 7/16/2016
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 12:22 AM UTC
She derails me.
breathtaking, magnificent, tongue dumb
words fail and sense blurs
punch drunk love fear.
an unfamiliar juggernaut
on a collision course with sanity, confidence, self worth
unfamiliar, unwarranted doubt.
Paralyzed dumb,
I have no explanation.
Nothing taints a true childlike expression
I stray into unattainable delusion.
expectations, trailing tangents, delineation.
Peacocking: false representation of self.
Benevolent intention falls victim to accelerated dissonance
Nano lies upon nano lies build a plastic truth
Why am I doing this, and why can't I stop?
She would have loved the real me..
The tongue tied, school boy all awkward and sweet
Do I go for a kiss or just throw rocks?
Oh well, she's gone now.
The fake plastic boy scared her away.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 11:45 AM UTC
The night is dead,
A million cells dispersed
Into the atomic universes.
(Pieces of me)
She turns over,
Takes the smoke out my hand.....
Puff,
Ahhhhhhhh,
" You can leave now"
Everything is nothing,
And in the mathematical juggernaut
Of life making life,
One in a million will make it,
I will die 999,000 times:
And it is 65,000,000
Years ago,
A single asteroid with an asterisk
Kills all life to set free life,
I am a root carnal
Subjective interlude of the lustrous desire,
The **** of my *****
With no humanity,
Come and go,
One night standing
On a galactic precipice of infinite
Possibility,
But what separates the animal
Is heartbreaking,
Because the animalistic nature
Takes me to the moon
And I am just a man,
I leave behind what?
" Nice meeting you"
A fatherless angel 9 months into
Forevermore.
Jun 26, 2016
Jun 26, 2016 at 1:38 AM UTC
The sound of clattering plates
as a voice in the kitchen yells
we gotta sailor walking in hot
and the waitresses walk around the place
always just beyond the breaking point
wearing voices which say
we hope you have a great night
the plates they clatter
as the men at the bar grow drunker
as the redskins lose yet another game
No sir,
we regret to inform you
that you can not take your beer home with you
in a kiddie sized to go cup
the plates clatter
as the bus boys and dish crew
bounce to Mexican hopping beats
bustling and jostling their way through the six tops
a cart full of leftovers and the crayon drawings of little kids
seven o’clock sees the dinner rush
come and go
and still that sound
the endless clattering of plates
as quitting time rolls around
and a hundred people throw a hundred exhausted punches
at the same juggernaut of a clock
as they always have and always will
outside fresh air smells chemical
and in the car
alone on the ride home save for the passing
of headlights: strangers navigating the same dark
you still think you can hear it
the clattering of plates
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 4:33 PM UTC
A whirlpool of thoughts swirled
as I slowly jogged around the park.
Amid the futile struggle of light,
against the approaching dark.
To never let go of the strings of past,
as stubborn as a flickering flame.
The road ahead mirrors the bygones.
We needn't look far for the blame.
The crushing burden of modern life;
facing the music with his head unbowed.
He gets on his feet with wounded knees,
and smiles at the succumbing crowd.
Innumerable choices present themselves,
as many as the peppered stars, abundant.
Each with unfathomable potential, yet
the path chosen invariably redundant.
He walks about the infinite desert;
the scalding ache of complete isolation.
He covets the presence of a nearby soul,
whose essence is but a mere reflection.
I drew in a lungful of evening air;
the immediate difference, so stark!
Yielding to the juggernaut of conformity,
as I slowly jogged around the park.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 8:59 AM UTC
I fear no living thing, nor dead.
No monsters hide beneath my bed.
I've heard and seen my share
Of ghosts. I find them harmless;
More than most of all that
Walks and thinks and breathes,
That carries blades or guns, and
Bleeds. But all I find a fright to be
Is resting deep inside of me.
There's Weakness there, it's hiding
Well, it's cunning, slippery, strong
As hell. There's Fury too; a
Juggernaut -awakened by a single
Thought. But enemy to them is Soul,
Its agent's name is Self Control.
It cages them with Love and Care,
And ties them down with
Self-Aware.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 6:52 AM UTC