"kneels" poems
Through an open window, I hear
the Big Thompson's steady music
drifting up from the valley below.
May breezes and gentle rains
coax the snow-capped peaks
to surrender their alabaster cloaks
downslope into gathering streams.
Silhouetted by light from the waxing moon,
a cinnamon bear lopes along water’s edge,
pauses for a draught and meanders on.
A bull elk newly coifed with velvet antlers
folds his legs beneath its belly
and kneels into grasses beside a tranquil pond.
while the Big Thompson rushes on.
Spring beauties, calypso orchids and geraniums
shake off their winter's sleep and
dot every vagabond trail and verdant hill
while fresh new leaves adorn the aspen boughs.
The Big Thompson inexorably presses on
bound for rendezvous with time and space
and tumbles into the always patient sea.
© 2017 by Robert Charles Howard
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 8:57 AM UTC
he kneels down before me
with ring on his hand
and vow in his heart
then my lips replies
"I will"
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 3:35 AM UTC
This is winter, this is night, small love --
A sort of black horsehair,
A rough, dumb country stuff
Steeled with the sheen
Of what green stars can make it to our gate.
I hold you on my arm.
It is very late.
The dull bells tongue the hour.
The mirror floats us at one candle power.
This is the fluid in which we meet each other,
This haloey radiance that seems to breathe
And lets our shadows wither
Only to blow
Them huge again, violent giants on the wall.
One match scratch makes you real.
At first the candle will not bloom at all --
It snuffs its bud
To almost nothing, to a dull blue dud.
I hold my breath until you creak to life,
Balled hedgehog,
Small and cross. The yellow knife
Grows tall. You clutch your bars.
My singing makes you roar.
I rock you like a boat
Across the Indian carpet, the cold floor,
While the brass man
Kneels, back bent, as best he can
Hefting his white pillar with the light
That keeps the sky at bay,
The sack of black! It is everywhere, tight, tight!
He is yours, the little brassy Atlas --
Poor heirloom, all you have,
At his heels a pile of five brass cannonballs,
No child, no wife.
Five ***** Five bright brass *****
To juggle with, my love, when the sky falls.
9k
In the dimly lit chamber, we set the scene.
An owner and his pet, a game of primal and prey.
She kneels like an eager dog, a collar around her neck.
He stomps his feet and keeps her obedience at play.
The owner, like a magician, keeps tricks up his sleeve.
He wants his pet to learn— to be his student and please.
Commanding her to crawl, to fetch and beg.
Waiting for him to call her a good little pet.
She barks and whimpers, a puppy in passion.
Spins three times and licks her master’s feet without a whine.
The pet surrenders to her master’s might.
She delivers his sturdy leather boots in a straight line.
With a flick of the whip, the pet curls in elation.
Her master chuckles at her sounds of temptation.
Submitting to the cynicism of ******* and discipline.
She is flogged like a plebeian, forgetting she’s a citizen.
Pet and master, a bond so strong.
The two are bound by zeal, craving one another.
She wallows in the comfort of her belly rubs and treats.
And runs around with a rush of red in color.
She goes through treacherous training.
And yelps if she’s ever caught complaining.
Waiting for a tasteful gift: the eternity collar.
When she is ready, he puts it on with honor.
Jun 16, 2024
Jun 16, 2024 at 6:25 PM UTC
walk into the room
With your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked
And you say, who is that man?
You try so hard
But you dont understand
Just what youll say
When you get home
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You raise up your head
And you ask, is this where it is?
And somebody points to you and says
Its his
And you say, whats mine?
And somebody else says, where what is?
And you say, oh my god
Am I here all alone?
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You hand in your ticket
And you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you
When he hears you speak
And says, how does it feel
To be such a freak?
And you say, impossible
As he hands you a bone
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
You have many contacts
Among the lumberjacks
To get you facts
When someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect
Anyway they already expect you
To just give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Youve been with the professors
And theyve all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have
Discussed lepers and crooks
Youve been through all of
F. scott fitzgeralds books
Youre very well read
Its well known
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you
And then he kneels
He crosses himself
And then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice
He asks you how it feels
And he says, here is your throat back
Thanks for the loan
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Now you see this one-eyed ******
Shouting the word now
And you say, for what reason?
And he says, how?
And you say, what does this mean?
And he screams back, youre a cow
Give me some milk
Or else go home
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
Well, you walk into the room
Like a camel and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket
And your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law
Against you comin around
You should be made
To wear earphones
Because something is happening here
But you dont know what it is
Do you, mister jones?
7.4k
She stands at a cross roads, looking from left to right, trying to decide which path to take
She turns to the left, where she sees a dark and dismal sky, where the path breaks up into tiny shards of gravel
She then turns to the right, where she sees a pleasant blue sky marked with wispy white clouds, where the path transforms into even blocks of cobblestone
Could she, struck with life's hardships, caught in life's desolation, choose the path which will lead her home?
Her eyes drift to and fro, summing up both paths, attempting to decide on just one
Should she choose a path of dark or light, tragedy or happiness, cloudiness or sunshine?
Her mind confused, she kneels on the ground, folds her arms, and sends a message from her heart to the One who will guide her home.
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 10:12 PM UTC
my boy with fig leaves and lightning bugs
tied up in his hair, he kneels with
crimson palms pressed to the unquiet dirt
and hums an abandoned melody.
my boy with sunbeams shining through his skin on the riverbank,
neatly coating the grass in thin white trails, woven into footprints like cotton twine, snaking their way across brown earth,
ankles slick with mud and the dead things that lay just underneath.
my boy with rosewater and stained glass ashes
feels me bless him with blackberries and the softest crush of words,
ice cubed, beneath my lips,
as he wipes the ichor from my chest with callouses
worn down gentle.
the light echoes from his skin
there are no symphonies nor sacraments,
only cicadas singing warmth to shivering willows.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
The paper boats sail
upon the stream.
Curious like vagabonds
questing for dreams.
On they float
through bends & turns,
Over silt mountains
& valleys of fern.
Glide with butterflies,
Caper past toads.
Not a clue where
leads the watery road.
Caressing the earth,
Savoring the rain,
Drawn into the rapids,
Broken free again.
The tempest, the calm,
All the vistas unknown.
Horizons they cross.
To beyond, they've flown!
A paper boat I hold
Only one to spare
Place it in the water
A small white corsair.
She kneels beside me,
on a bed of grass.
Points at the boat
& throws me a glance.
Smiling, she asks,
"Leaving? Where to?"
"Let's find out", I say
"My boat is for two."
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 1:10 AM UTC
The tractor stands frozen - an agony
To think of. All night
Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale,
A spill of molten ice, smoking snow,
Pours into its steel.
At white heat of numbness it stands
In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness.
It defied flesh and won't start.
Hands are like wounds already
Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable
As if the toe-nails were all just torn off.
I stare at it in hatred. Beyond it
The copse hisses - capitulates miserably
In the fleeing, failing light. Starlings,
A dirtier sleetier snow, blow smokily, unendingly, over
Towards plantations Eastward.
All the time the tractor is sinking
Through the degrees, deepening
Into its hell of ice.
The starting lever
Cracks its action, like a snapping knuckle.
The battery is alive - but like a lamb
Trying to nudge its solid-frozen mother -
While the seat claims my buttock-bones, bites
With the space-cold of earth, which it has joined
In one solid lump.
I squirt commercial sure-fire
Down the black throat - it just coughs.
It ridicules me - a trap of iron stupidity
I've stepped into. I drive the battery
As if I were hammering and hammering
The frozen arrangement to pieces with a hammer
And it jabbers laughing pain-crying mockingly
Into happy life.
And stands
Shuddering itself full of heat, seeming to enlarge slowly
Like a demon demonstrating
A more-than-usually-complete materialization -
Suddenly it jerks from its solidarity
With the concrete, and lurches towards a stanchion
Bursting with superhuman well-being and abandon
Shouting Where Where?
Worse iron is waiting. Power-lift kneels
Levers awake imprisoned deadweight,
Shackle-pins bedded in cast-iron cow-shit.
The blind and vibrating condemned obedience
Of iron to the cruelty of iron,
Wheels screeched out of their night-locks -
Fingers
Among the tormented
Tonnage and burning of iron
Eyes
Weeping in the wind of chloroform
And the tractor, streaming with sweat,
Raging and trembling and rejoicing.
5.2k
Silence.
This is all we hear now.
Gone are the sweet words of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.
Gone is her radiant light that illuminated our world.
We have been thrown back into the darkness that haunted us for so long.
Yet there are no screams to torment us. No hisses to harm us.
Even the Solitude is silent.
Perhaps it has taken pity upon us.
Or perhaps it has learned a new method of torment.
Yet there are echoes that boom through the darkness, flashing memories in the sparks of light that accompany them.
The absence of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity has turned the passion in our veins to poison. We feel our very soul dying, fracturing from its touch.
We beg for the light of the Perfection, but darkness is all that answers us.
There is none to come to our aid.
Our only solace is the words once written by the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity.
Yet even these words cut deeper into our wounds, twisting into our heart as haunting reminders of what we cannot have.
The mind cannot help but endlessly repeat the memories we created, its gaze unblinking while they continue to cast lacerations upon it.
We have tried in vain to pull the mind away from the memories, to save it from the anguish.
But it has become paralyzed, caught in a horrendous cycle of elation and devastation.
We are left with no other option but to numb the mind beneath a sea of liquid repression.
Yet even then, she visits us in our dreams, giving us the company we desired so desperately before, only to awaken to the twilight that perpetually surrounds us.
Silence.
This is all we hear now.
We have been forsaken, left to brood over our deeds while we lie upon the cold ground that is littered with barbs and thorns created by our own foolishness.
The Solitude looms over us, watching us shiver in pain as the blood from our wounds stains the ground.
We feel its harsh glare bore into our very soul, while the specters of the Sapphire-Eyed Serenity eternally whisper her words in our ear.
Our strength is dwindling, and our desire to carry on is fading, for all we see upon this path is agony and torment.
Our path is wrought with cracks and blades from lovers past.
The Sapphire-Eyed Serenity
The Traveler
The Fallen One
The Distant One
The Nameless
They have each riddled our path and our hearts with scars that shall never fade.
And the Solitude vows that it will continue this cycle for eternity.
That it will force us to crawl upon this wretched path, relentlessly reliving this horror if we dare continue.
Yet despite the twilight and anguish, despite our forsaken soul, there is one who has stretched his hand in aid.
The Companion.
Unaffected by our plagues and spines on our path, he kneels beside us and speaks a single word that sends the Solitude into rage.
Rise.
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
You walk into the room with your pencil in your hand
You see somebody naked and you say, "Who is that man?"
You try so hard but you don't understand
Just what you will say when you get home
Because something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You raise up your head and you ask, "Is this where it is?"
And somebody points to you and says, "It's his"
And you say, "What's mine?" and somebody else says, "Well, what is?"
And you say, "Oh my God, am I here all alone?"
But something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You hand in your ticket and you go watch the geek
Who immediately walks up to you when he hears you speak
And says, "How does it feel to be such a freak?"
And you say, "Impossible!" as he hands you a bone
And something is happening here but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
You have many contacts among the lumberjacks
To get you facts when someone attacks your imagination
But nobody has any respect, anyway they already expect you to all give a check
To tax-deductible charity organizations
Ah, you've been with the professors and they've all liked your looks
With great lawyers you have discussed lepers and crooks
You've been through all of F. Scott Fitzgerald's books
You're very well-read, it's well-known
But something is happening here and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, the sword swallower, he comes up to you and then he kneels
He crosses himself and then he clicks his high heels
And without further notice, he asks you how it feels
And he says, "Here is your throat back, thanks for the loan"
And you know something is happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Now, you see this one-eyed ****** shouting the word "Now"
And you say, "For what reason?" and he says, "How"
And you say, "What does this mean?" and he screams back, "You're a cow!
Give me some milk or else go home"
And you know something's happening but you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Well, you walk into the room like a camel, and then you frown
You put your eyes in your pocket and your nose on the ground
There ought to be a law against you comin' around
You should be made to wear earphones
'Cause something is happening and you don't know what it is
Do you, Mr. Jones?
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
O'er the ocean
By the sea
On the sand
Or in a tree
Wherever your
Heart beats
Wherever your
Blood red
Heart bleeds
I'll always be
Right next
To thee
You can climb
Every mountain
Any place you want to go
You are my fountain
I will stand beside you
Watch as your ocean
Waves and flows
A beautiful collision
Walking on water
Your blooms unfold
Our flowers grow
We levitate
We gravitate
In two
One another
We are
Stardust
Undercover
Meet me underneath
The sea
You are a mermaid
Diving into the deep
Everything imaginary
Exists with me
I'll be your seahorse
Float around you
I'll be your owl
Soaring down to
Offer you
A ride
You decide
Glide
On my wings
Rest your head
Face the magic
Of Queens
And Kings
Breathing under water
Is an art we have
Perfected
Unaffected
By the world that
Surrounds us
Even if
War has found us
We are blessed
I have you
You have me
A sturdy nest
Protectors
We are the directors
Of world peace
Nothing can stop
The brilliance
We possess
Watch as every
Constellation
Kneels before us
To confess
The joy
That they
Witness
Flying in the sky
I'll be your falcon
You can always
Count on me
Relentlessly
Resilience is my middle name
I know you feel the same
Two twin lights
We fight the storm
Of life
Our love is warm
Sending off our fires
Into the night
A blast of stars
Fireworks
Unite in the
Nursery of
Our heaven
One voice
One song
We shine like the moon
Above the jungle
Every lagoon
Coasting over every island
Eternal friends
Every bayou
Until earth bends
I'll go with you
We are
In the back pocket
Of every lover
Reaching in
They will find
The kisses
That we keep there
Our galaxies
Of affection
We are everywhere
In everything
Let the universe stare
Wherever we are
We are there
A magnetism of
Contagious smiles
A sound that
Resonates for miles
A definite glow
A laser light show
Atomic illumination
In the blink of an eye
The Big Bomb
Of Creation
We are the resolution
God's gift to evolution
Sharing our love
With every child
Every elder
Every homeless
Shelter
Let the universe stare
Wherever we are
We are there
A magnetism of
Contagious smiles
A sound that
Resonates for miles
And miles
© tHE tERRY tREE
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
The roses of Love glad the garden of life,
Though nurtur’d ’mid weeds dropping pestilent dew,
Till Time crops the leaves with unmerciful knife,
Or prunes them for ever, in Love’s last adieu!
In vain, with endearments, we soothe the sad heart,
In vain do we vow for an age to be true;
The chance of an hour may command us to part,
Or Death disunite us, in Love’s last adieu!
Still Hope, breathing peace, through the grief-swollen breast,
Will whisper, “Our meeting we yet may renew:”
With this dream of deceit, half our sorrow’s represt,
Nor taste we the poison, of Love’s last adieu!
Oh! mark you yon pair, in the sunshine of youth,
Love twin’d round their childhood his flow’rs as they grew;
They flourish awhile, in the season of truth,
Till chill’d by the winter of Love’s last adieu!
Sweet lady! why thus doth a tear steal its way,
Down a cheek which outrivals thy ***** in hue?
Yet why do I ask?—to distraction a prey,
Thy reason has perish’d, with Love’s last adieu!
Oh! who is yon Misanthrope, shunning mankind?
From cities to caves of the forest he flew:
There, raving, he howls his complaint to the wind;
The mountains reverberate Love’s last adieu!
Now Hate rules a heart which in Love’s easy chains,
Once Passion’s tumultuous blandishments knew;
Despair now inflames the dark tide of his veins,
He ponders, in frenzy, on Love’s last adieu!
How he envies the wretch, with a soul wrapt in steel!
His pleasures are scarce, yet his troubles are few,
Who laughs at the pang that he never can feel,
And dreads not the anguish of Love’s last adieu!
Youth flies, life decays, even hope is o’ercast;
No more, with Love’s former devotion, we sue:
He spreads his young wing, he retires with the blast;
The shroud of affection is Love’s last adieu!
In this life of probation, for rapture divine,
Astrea declares that some penance is due;
From him, who has worshipp’d at Love’s gentle shrine,
The atonement is ample, in Love’s last adieu!
Who kneels to the God, on his altar of light
Must myrtle and cypress alternately strew:
His myrtle, an emblem of purest delight,
His cypress, the garland of Love’s last adieu!
3.7k
Seen in its entirety against or being amongst the dark night sky.
The stars then shine brighter
When they are seen together.
Such a shade of colour.
That is the white shadow that hangs still and kneels.
Still, is that a shadow for real?
A white shadow of the sky - why do you ask, why?
I am sitting here at a round table
But I am sitting at a ring of white
Transparent, glass
Where I can see everything right through.
It too
Reflects the light from my eyes.
In its light, there is no fire, no beam, no heat and the air ----
Washes and bathes you yet keeps you dry.
It is just a glow that weighs nothing.
Where and how does it lie?
It is just a piece of eternity's presence looming.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 12:08 AM UTC
Regrets, they come in waves and break around his feet
And he begins to wonder who he might have been
Had roads diverged in different woods and fields
Not yellow or yet any colour still unseen
But clearer now by day than windless nights
Still nearer than the objects of his dreams
It'd rained late into the evening, and when the lights were shaded
Around the pool outside and with the windows shuttered
He'd thrown on loose clothes, flicked open an umbrella
While high outside the stars the lightning flashes muttered
Pulled open doors that led to the veranda
And moved outside once more with all his thoughts unuttered
The smoke, from fires on Java lies heavy on his senses
An omen of the time of year and of the past condition
He shrugs, ***** in the acidic nighttime odors
Reviving lives not lived but revealing his admission
That time beyond the present that mirrors every movement
Within, without, and yet again, the flicker of suspicion.
The pistol in his pocket, illegal not unloaded
A symbol of his state of mind and by his sole discretion
He kneels beside the water, deep-set and in the shadows
Lips forming wordlessly around the last confession
Images of where and what and who and why and whether
A portent of that final action, sensing and impression
The smoke from fires on Java lies heavy on the water
The reek of cordite mixing with the smell of burning grasses
Indignant birds protest the crack of one small set expulsion
The echo round the swimming pool reverberates and passes
Nothing more and nothing less and time and space and matter
Slick red upon the treacherous tiles, the shattered bloodied glasses.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 6:19 AM UTC
When she became the prom queen,
She was the prettiest thing they’d ever seen.
Soft gold curls spill over her back,
Bright green eyes, no sign of decay inside.
A spotlight shines down enhancing her cream-colored gown.
She beams as she accepts the crown.
She kneels down and throws up blood.
Her head comes up in a white marble tiled bathroom,
Starting to stench.
Staring deep into the reflection in her mother’s mirror,
Slowly withering away.
Pills spill around the room
Sitting by the window
She stares into the sun.
Waiting for a crimson bouquet,
And a plastic tiara
She powders her face,
Peachy pink cheeks on pale white skin.
She colors her lips and paints on a smile
Slips on a dress that flows to the floor.
They call out her name,
Lost in a daze she walks out on stage,
Stands all alone.
And when they crowned me the prom queen
I was the ugliest girl I’d ever seen.
-Inside on the Other side
Apr 10, 2019
Apr 10, 2019 at 9:14 AM UTC
Introduction:
What is Preludium but a time to reflect on what it is we know;
What has gone before, and how it might shape those things to come?
Preludium, or, what has gone before:
An entire world,
A great big steaming musty living breathing screaming world and-
For all we know-
There’s but two souls that care to fill it:
Sly Squint, our latest hero,
Swinging through his city like t’were a steaming jungle
And him the proverbial Ape,
He crouches in shadows on rooftops,
Directing his lust, forceful! At all
That kneels before him.
Then there’s our mysterious wanderer-
One hell of a sorry, stinking, sulky sort is he.
No Name to claim yet garbed in rags aplenty
Travelling on an endless quest
Towards a dying dusk.
Yet we need to draw a Third.
See, in this strange place we find ourselves, riddled with danger and loss,
We need one who knows some things;
One who is up there;
Better yet, one who helped to shape this world.
Because for now we are clueless, vulnerable, shambling in darkness.
And that will simply not do.
So, with haste, dear reader, with haste,
Let us ride for the one with the answers;
The one with more Names than you can count, even if you had a lifetime in which to do so;
The one who holds all the strings.
Jul 1, 2015
Jul 1, 2015 at 7:00 PM UTC
with apologies to Aaron Sorkin
The atheist starts off with,
“this is silly.” I think I see
him sense the abrupt change
of atmosphere walking through
the threshold into a chapel like
plunging into lake water naked.
When the actress kneels, the atheist explains
how God shouldn’t be so vain, I think of
the actress and whether or not, with her real
kneeling in the fake chapel, she actually prays.
She says, “You don’t kneel for Him; you kneel for you.”
The atheist storms out saying that “This just doesn’t
feel right,” The atheist is outraged that a mother is bleeding
to death, her baby may have no father, and someone’s
little brother is being held hostage by Islamic fundamentalists.
I remember two conversations:
Courtney telling me that God wasn’t saving me
when my brake lines rusted out in the TGI Fridays
parking lot instead of on the 74 bridge.
River telling me that she feels blessed that God has watched
over all the people in her life who have attempted
suicide, because they failed. She hastily tries to add
that God was also watching over Jenny, but is too
worried that she hurt me. Right before the scene switches
The actress looks upand tells God
that the atheist “made some good points.”
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
Through water and sand, stands you.
Spring breaking at you feet
Your breath flicking the pages of a street paper
A black crown of nightingales at your head
Entwined in leaves and wheat trickling down stones in dew-morning light and thrones in brambles of blackberry pie
Rooted to firewood and sheer bliss of kissed moonlight
Where herons christen Stars before black velvet blanket
Bridled by Rosemary and time, caught with Mary in a dark corner
Slumped behind priest less ivy, we permeate the air and through blue blooded command and gnashing of teeth, slants me
Outside the ramshackle cwtch I the hangmedown barks of woods, kneels you.
And stopped around cockles and foundling sparrows, sings the epitaph of a fallen barbarian.
Still through desert and carcass, lies you.
JWS
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 7:29 AM UTC
In the face of war
Loudly our fears drum.
The lioness ready for a feast
I heard Lucifer is angry against God
Battling to get Him to His kneels.
Blood is reigning
The blood sucker awaken
In pieces the sky has fallen
The moon now a commoner
And the sun a drunk wanderer.
Where are the innocence
The black cloud acquires,
Vultures need the flesh of the angels
Their bone the dogs also desire.
The dragon has been unleashed to flood the world,
This time, no one is right enough not to be wrong,
Yes, No saints, No Noah,
No ark to sail to a new world.
Death our creditor, we the borrower
The covenant can't be erased not even a word.
See what we have done to ourselves fighting our creator
See how we successfully drive ourselves to our destructions.
If God finally conquer the Armageddon
In the recreation of a new kingdom
I will want to be the Adam without eve
Dying to see what difference that will make indeed
Because this world is such a complicated trip
The returnees will hate to repeat.
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 7:58 PM UTC
Her eyes—Northern Lights—pulse aligns,
Violet, slow sway unseen.
Moon kneels, eclipsed beneath her thighs,
Darkness undone, her touch—unseen.
Her gasp—a solar flare’s gold rise,
Sky opens, raw, unbound.
Dawn’s first touch—her lips arise—
Sunrise I’ll chase, love I’ve found.
Jun 2, 2025
Jun 2, 2025 at 8:20 PM UTC
I'll tell you a story about two young brothers.
Like fire and smoke, that's what was said.
Always together, laughing and singing,
Sharing adventures, sharing their bread.
One day these two brothers both became lovers.
Yes! They both fell in love at the very same time.
Though always before they'd shared all their secrets,
This was a secret they would not confide.
Each of the brothers went into the garden.
One picked a red rose, the other a white.
They rode off at sunset, not one word between them
In opposing directions, into the night.
At the balcony window of her father's veranda
Rosa is anxiously scanning the street
Pablo is late now, soon Hector will ride up
This cannot happen! They surely will meet!
Rosa hears hoof beats from different directions,
Riders approaching along cobbled streets.
Each bearing a rose, and a heart full of passion
Brothers no more, but two rivals that meet.
A challenge is offered and is quickly accepted.
Their swords are both drawn before Rosa can speak.
She cries out to stop them, their blood's screaming louder.
They fight like two madmen and fall at her feet.
Their life ebbing from them, they lie there before her,
Rosa is sobbing, "Oh what have I done?"
She kisses their lips, so cold now and pallid,
And sheds her tears on them, so soon to be gone.
Bending over her lovers, they whisper to her,
"Take these two roses, and plant them tonight
on each side of your window, they'll grow up together.
Our love will be with you, though we die in this fight."
That's the story he told me, when I was a small boy,
When I asked my papa of that house on the right,
With it's balcony window grown over with roses,
Twining together, the red and the white.
And each day at sunset, Rosa goes to the old church.
She kneels at the altar to say her long prayers.
Lighting two candles before the Mother of Mercy,
One red and one white rose she lays gently there.
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 4:39 PM UTC
As the choir breathes and fires freeze
As the sun kneels on the highways of what's real
There's a soldier of broken love
Standing on the King's Landing above
There's dim lights on his skin-tight
jeans, and it's reflected in Ray-Ban eyes
He stares off as the coffee drops
Into her cup and she doesn't even look up
And now is now somehow
The night cries as the winter dyes
The windows in frost and loss
The LED is bad company
Its arms aren't warm and it dies in storms
And now is now somehow
Words inside the head are never said
Life beyond the grave is never saved
The door is never opened by the wind
Love never fought for never begins
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 3:42 AM UTC
So seeing at the feet of the cross was Mary Magdalene looking for one last time in her soul lover's eyes before the death of love (Eros?)
But in the distance is the Gnosis Knight Jason watching this scene of utter Substituted Love - (Bearing one another's burdens) this Eros (Romantic Love and Passion) in action?
The death of duality and the unitive power and wisdom of God; yes the bringing together in the bridal chamber of the groom and bride in loves Eros type death in cosmic reality?
The Gnosis Knight Jason comes close to the cross smiles at Mary Magdalene and whispers do you see by my eyes Mary?
I see two Christ's becoming Unitive in Jesus and his body, male and female?
I see Chokmâh (Wisdom) also on the cross in death with her husband part of Christ?
This is Eros (Romantic Love and Passion) of The Christ,
This is Eros (Romantic Love and Passion) of The Christ,
This is Eros (Romantic Love and Passion) of The Christ,
So I see Chokmâh with a full Red Rose Crown on the temple of the Christ; this is on the blessed head of Jesus, the son of humanity?
Then Jesus gives up the Eros (Romantic Love and Passion ) and dies?
The sky turns black to say is LOVE (Eros, the Romantic Love and Passion) really dead?
Then they take the body of Jesus to the garden tomb to plant the Rose Bush Seed of Love (Eros, Romantic Love and Passionate Love) in the earth for three days to grow into the fullness of Agape (Universal Love?)
Then Mary Magdalene waits in the bridal chamber (human heart) she keeps the hope and knowing Love's Passion is stronger than death itself?
The Gnosis Knight Jason is waiting to see his Queen Chokmâh (Wisdom) come from the garden tomb as well?
Then on that blessed morning Mary Magdalene says the blessed words my Teacher?
The rest of the story is known.
But Gnosis Knight Jason sees a woman caring for a budding Rose bush and she turn's and smiles; yes Knight Jason; It is I the Queen part of Christ; Chokmâh (Wisdom) Herself?
So The Queen Chokmâh (Wisdom) says to the Queen's Hand; the Knight Jason; it is I, Chokmâh (Wisdom) Herself Again?
Because Her Knight Jason was shocked and never answered the first time?
Because he thought she really is apart of The fullness of Christ Itself?
Then the good Knight Jason answer's; I am not worthy to be your blessed hand my Queen?
But the Queen lets her Knight give her a sweet kiss on her Blessed and Holy lips to make Knight Jason's unworthy lips clean again?
So this sweet holy kiss to make his lips worthy and clean in Cosmic Reality?
The Knight Jason replies - "Thus from my lips by thine my sin is purged."
Then the Knight Jason asks my Queen am I also begotten and reborn by the sweet loves holy kiss in Cosmic Reality?
The Queen Smiles and says that is how the children of Wisdom are begotten in Cosmic Reality.
Then he kneels and she crown's her knight; a king of her unitive gospel of Wisdom and Life?
Then Chokmâh (Wisdom) says She will give you a Red Rose Garland to grace your head and present you with a glorious Red Rose crown.
The Bridal Chamber is now open for unitive Wisdom to enter into the blessed garden of the groom and bride once more in Cosmic Reality?
Now the Knight Jason And King rides from that garden tomb with Chokmâh (Wisdom) before all time in Cosmic Reality?
You see Knight Jason sees Red Rose Petals falling from Heaven before her blessed feet in Cosmic Reality bringing The Love, The Passion Of The Love, Friendship and True Life before Her everywhere She goes in Cosmic Reality?
The Rose Fragrance of Chokmâh (Wisdom) fills Cosmic Reality Itself with the Sweet Fragrance of Love and Life and The Fragrance fill's The Groom's And The Brides of Cosmic Reality Itself?
This adds the sweet Rose Fragrance to the bridal chamber of bridal chambers in Cosmic Reality?
The Knight Jason's symbol of love and romance is a single Red Rose to give this single Red Rose to his sister bride in Cosmic Reality?
But Christ's Passion is this Romantic Love And Passion Overcomes death; this death is not to stop the anger of God falling on humanity from The Father and The Mother parts of God?
But it is a unitive Substituted Love to bring unitive power and wisdom to craft together groom and bride again in Cosmic Reality?
This is to bring unitive power and wisdom and craft together the duel flames of Adam and Eve in the bridal chamber again in Cosmic Reality?
So Chokmâh (Wisdom) Crafts and Sews together The Wedding Garments of the Male and the Female Knights of the Unitive Kingdom of The Single One in Cosmic Reality?
So human wedlock in the flesh is a symbol of a higher Cosmic type wedlock?
So romantic love and human wedlock is the door way to the garden and the bridal chamber of chambers in Cosmic Reality?
So the Romance and Passion of Christ is this,
This is Eros (Romantic Love and Passion) of The Christ,
This is Eros (Romantic Love and Passion) of The Christ,
This is Eros (Romantic Love and Passion) of The Christ.
Jan 30, 2022
Jan 30, 2022 at 11:01 AM UTC
Love is dead, I know.
I was the one who unleashed the arrow,
And left us a deadly hallow.
I cough out poisonous words,
Thought I'd tame you with injections,
But,
A python you turned out to be.
One, who never kneels.
Your fangs fill my throat with lies,
You choke me with your "cuddles".
I've always yearned for power,
And dignity,
But I'm transparent in your slavery.
I was a bright star,
Now I'm nothing but a scar.
But we'll be making love like savages,
I'll absorb the venom off your kiss,
I'll let you allure me into your darkness,
I'll pretend I'm alive for one lethal bliss,
I'll sacrifice my thrones for your filthy roses,
To make love like savages.
Barefoot crossing a path of swords,
Skin on skin with devil's hell fires,
Mud blood running through my viens,
defiling my mind,
And turn it into madness.
A madness,
Where you're the god of all gods.
Jan 28, 2019
Jan 28, 2019 at 4:29 PM UTC