"purifies" poems
Man pineapples are so good
It's my favorite fruit
It's amplifies my taste buds making an enjoyable reaction
No room for sadness
Cuz pineapples bring me gladness
Justice to my nutrition
I'm a living organism and I need my power
Making me preach wholeness with boldness
I'm black and that's what my people do
So I'll continue to eat the sweet yellow fruit that purifies my soul
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 4:25 PM UTC
Beloved, may Your eternal flame burn in me.
A fire that purifies and
illumines the darkness within
my thirsty heart.
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 6:29 AM UTC
As night hath stars, more rare than ships
In ocean, faint from pole to pole,
So all the wonder of her lips
Hints her innavigable soul.
Such lights she gives as guide my bark;
But I am swallowed in the swell
Of her heart's ocean, sagely dark,
That holds my heaven and holds my hell.
In her I live, a mote minute
Dancing a moment in the sun:
In her I die, a sterile shoot
Of nightshade in oblivion.
In her my elf dissolves, a grain
Of salt cast careless in the sea;
My passion purifies my pain
To peace past personality.
Love of my life, God grant the years
Confirm the chrism - rose to rood!
Anointing loves, asperging tears
In sanctifying solitude!
Man is so infinitely small
In all these stars, determinate.
Maker and moulder of them all,
Man is so infinitely great!
14.3k
One must be brave to live through
a day. What remains
is nothing but the pleasure of longing—very precious.
Longing
purifies as does flying, strengthens as does an effort,
it fashions the soul
as work
fashions the belly.
It is like an athlete, like a runner
who will never
stop running. And this
gives him endurance.
Longing
is nourishing for the strong.
It is like a window
on a high tower, through which
blows the wind of strength.
Longing,
Virginity of happiness.
11k
the rain cleans the earth.
it purifies it
it renews it.
i wonder,
if i am under the rain,
will it cleanse me?
purify me?
renew me?
but that is just hopeful thinking.
the rain will only drench me.
the rain is selfish in the way that
the only thing it will clean
is itself.
we must be like the rain.
we must not try to purify others.
we must not try to renew others.
the only one who can cleanse us of our impurities,
is ourselves.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:21 AM UTC
"Dear Rolf Harrer,
I am a person you don't know. A man you've never met...But you are someone who occupies my mind...and my heart...in this distant land where I've gone. If you can imagine a hidden place, tucked safely away from the world...concealed by walls of high, snow-capped mountains...a place rich with all the strange beauty of your night-time dreams...Then you know where I am."
"In the country where I'm travelling - Tibet - people believe if they walk long distances to holy places...it purifies the bad deeds they've committed...They believe the more difficult the journey, the greater the depth of purification."
"...In this place where time stands still, it seems that everything is moving..including me. I can't say I know where I'm going. Nor whether my bad deeds can be purified...there are so many things I've done which I regret. But when I come to a full stop, I hope you will understand that the distance between us is not as great as it seems...
With deep affection,
your father...
Heinrich Harrer."
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 2:30 AM UTC
When the white bird flies,
the sky catches on fire.
Then the fire bleeds to the village
and the village burns.
Do not be mistaken,
this is how you catch the bad guys.
We must catch the bad guys.
Don’t you know?
When the white bird flies,
she purifies in flame.
Replaces evil with ash
and ash cannot stop the oil flow.
But wait, there was a mistake.
backspace, backspace.
Control alt delete.
It is too late, the sky already burns.
And when the sky burns,
so does the village.
These were children,
Where were the bad guys?
When the white bird fails
It flies a thousand homes to its mother.
“We will try again, tomorrow,” she says
and then she turns the screen black.
Still the village burns
and children become orphans,
but the oils keeps flowing,
it always keeps flowing.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 9:52 AM UTC
*Through the incredulity burning
in the grim reaper's eyes,
He unwillingly received the souls
of those who did not deserve to die
...
The bright fluids of life lay bare
and insignificant in the godforsaken lands
He sighed the heaviest breath he could muster
Death was his trade, but this affair had him
loosening his grip on the scythe
Mumbling the dead's prayer,
The half-living defied fate's ruthless threads
And squirmed for barren hope
A child nearby cries for the light to save him
As the shadows devoured their youngest feast, so far
Now standing alone, the reaper cursed the gods
Who may or may not be listening to him
He was disgusted with the greed of these people
And their bloodbaths
Where those who avoid death and the
ones who thrillingly seek it
Summon each other with empty excuses
Thinking these are enough to fling
their guns at the righteous
Drink the innocent blood like
the finest wine from their vineyards!
Stab the weak at their remaining spots
Oh how foolish they are!
How foolish indeed!
He pities those who speak death as their honor
When they have only lived like rats
Scavengers of chances that purifies
their filthy names
He scorns those who
do not even speak of death
In their wild belief that some curse
will hand them like a platter to their graves
When death is the end that no one ,
not even him, can escape
Those cowards!
No one lives to cheat that dark fate!
No one!
The reaper was provoked by humans
Them and their incessant wonder and fear of
That that is unknown
Them who have stopped looking
at their small, definite lives
To anticipate what they could not
even begin to understand
Feeding their illusions that a special place
awaits their petty souls to rest on
Ahhh!!!He was tired of them all
Might as well finish his job...*
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 5:44 PM UTC
Grain of wheat
When I rise without sleep,
According to God to abandonment.
His love is projected on the horizon,
Cool is the water of its source.
The good God loves us happy,
Lady mothers his Empress.
Without faith the world and consternation,
The man without a heart.
Hikers with thirst and hunger,
God made man.
The Light is eternal and free,
God loves you and purifies.
We were very confident in our Lord,
It was divine, is love.
The grain of wheat that produces,
Love of God, Jesus.
Victor Marques
Nov 16, 2011
Nov 16, 2011 at 11:45 AM UTC
shapeshifter, son drunk
& changing skins.
he digs up skeletons of a spanish battalion
buried
by tigers on the garden key.
suncresent
spray of blood & oranges.
new-fangled sailors once soaked
in madness.
now just starvation.
the viking speaks:
in limericks of new world poise.
his antler woven mask,
set nicely upon the shore.
seod, turtle lord
of space & time, appears only once
every lunar eclipse. bound by treatise
to the jellyfish triumvirate.
his acolyte,
bolivar t. shagnasty,
wanders the mainland in search of water
or meat of trees.
kindness
of men turns to dust & belly worms.
forgotten, the plants mutate
into root-rich empires
of fish & figurine.
million year armistice.
dr. samuel mudd,
shackled years to tide-slab &
fort jefferson. he
purifies the island of its yellow
shivering death.
hospital key.
fastforward hundred plus years
through mudd lifeline:
battle weary sneakers,
spokes sung by strum of card, the bmx
stridden boy & his
teenage mutant ninja turtle mask.
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 4:55 PM UTC
Muggy murky dawn clogged with gloom the abbey
Where his grampy sleeps ,
Through
the drizzles fizzle
As native orchids embosoms and blossoms in his lost vault.
like a curfew drawn in the church
The pew lost its crowd
With the paws of time.
Lone man sleep
In deep latin chants they petrify you
Before sheol purifies you
And litany literature lecture limbs you
When in overprotected embankments of battlements
They dry their garbs
Where your lore forayed growth
And sweat smeared smelt breathed wealth
Chagrin dreams washed ashore
lay as upon a cold mornings recollection on a tabloids sold column
which drew your freckles bolder
In a savour of remembrance
For your zealous zealots
Who on an another 'all souls day' reoccur revisiting
the truth of their establishment
in prayers
The good Lord adorn you
Let Lekker dreams cradle you
Your consorts concert never consume you
And earth never haunt you
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 1:47 AM UTC
Blissful the wind feels my skin
Touching it smoothly, blows against it, ruffling
More and more, I find a sense of calmness.
A purity overturned, and made pure again.
Stars shine, but as they age they turn different colors.
Compacted, these aged stars of life become beautiful jewels.
But moreover, the persons mean more to us,
Because of their heart, and their character.
The love purifies our impurity somehow.
Not long ago, I was so miserable.
I wanted to take back all of those years.
I thought the pain I caused made me the most evil thing on earth.
I felt like I was nothing worth anything.
The fact that you didn't seem to care when others would've..
That made it worse.
But I have no regrets.
Everything has woven together beautifully.
And through love, purity is now pure again.
Purity in a richer form.
In the midst of gloom,
No one sees the immense pain I carry.
Fearing the worst, I always died before the actuality.
I was so immune to feeling.
This purity I feel I now have -
No it is not innocent, but it is beautiful,
Blissful, unforgettable, unimaginable.
Apr 14, 2015
Apr 14, 2015 at 3:29 PM UTC
When your nothing to nobody and you just want to be something to somebody
I wanna be like
Life ain't fair
But you see that ain't rare
And my girl Ana said it like this...
"How they suppose to like what they see
If you ain't in their line of sight..."
I know she right
I'm a loner
That hate being alone
Work with beautiful women
But I'm always professional
Even when my thoughts start to become
Not Safe For Work
I just sang and do my thang.
Because the R&B; purifies me
& "Nothing Was The Same" tracks amplify me
So that the only time I hear my name in anyone's mouth
Is out of praise
Because I'm trying to be the best at what I do
I be thinking though
What these girls think of the kid
Quiet, but he really love to sing
Tap you on your shoulder cause he don't know your name
But he always smile after a question
Because he's genuine
Hello miss,
How are you this afternoon?
Well uh,
you look stunning
I just thought I should let you know
Because your smile has made my day
and now I hope you have a great evening too
****
Déjà Vu
But who woulda knew?
The kid is too cautious to jump into anything new
So he stays focused on what he came to do
Come to work and have fun
Wasn't that the agenda boo?
A few words from a good one.
Ana
Beautiful soul,
And I met her on the last day of high school
The girl deserves the best.
Because her mind right,
Her smile warming
And intelligence is ****
And she can vibe with me and my music and poetry.
I'm so lucky to have this person as a friend
I guess I should really try to keep in touch with her more.
And that's real!
Take notice:
this went from talking about something I want,
to showing appreciation to my friend.
Even though I shouldn't, I always put them first,
they are my family
Honestly,
the people in my life are the best
and I am forever grateful for them
~
This was a little something for a friend.
Thanks for the inspiration.
As always sweetheart
shine bright
and know that if you need a shoulder to lean upon
I'll be right there behind you
just give me the word.
okay?
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
Hello Little Prince
Your Eyes Shine
Like Emeralds Of Pines
Your Hair Made Of the Sun
You travel from Star to Star
I draw each day since you are gone
in all color and form - sound and line
for our rejuvenating living particle
made of crystal of truth
I sense you water my lost dream
I the lover the queen of All Darkness
I the lover the goddess of All Light
remain unreachable
reside on both -
of your own making they say
- undying and unborn star
Outside of the two or one
you travel to All the glittering
unknown but remembering
of those starting and ending
to recollect living pieces
of that forgotten dream
as if a scent to remember
from lavender fields
brought by a distant whispering
of a northern sky
to fade away
if you choose not to hear
Your experiences- real - reach as vivid pulse
of a song - a mantra of love
My roots sense to mature wisdom in all tones of Reds
Innocent is my heart longing for your glowing face
the greens of my leaves reflect
the color of the light of our secret seeing
I shall play no more games of extremes
for you to visualize of me other than what I am
I surrender to you fully because I know you have seen
many of rose gardens and touched and smelled and cherished
each one - as vital as the cool mountain stream singing for
me the myth of your love spreading
I shall no more play games other than the truth that connected us inseparably
We gave birth to fertility through the bite not more painful than a thorn on my stem
Our love born of the poison of the serpent that connected us
We travel to be healed and to heal the universe
in our shell as we experience to learn and teach
not a mystery but a technology is love where
I shall see you again beyond the body
I the lover of healing fully flowing on one line
Crossed valleys made of fractals of blessings
My colorless strong hair carrier of red blue yellow and green glitter
on streams reaching the oceanic clearing as the victorious salty jump of a whale
As the Heart purifies its Crystal - We Be One -
Our Home - You - I -. The Rose -
Not the Unreachable - The Dark - None of those Extremes -
but a Rose is I Just like One of the Many Other Ones -
but One Of a Kind on A Tiniest but A Home for Us Planet Under Stars
Us -- The Little Prince - The Rose - bring love to universe - when whoever on planets looks up in pure knowing - to Skies shall sense among all other Stars Skies and Hearts - a Universe made of Glowing Vibrating Expanding Delivering Joy is Divine Love
of the Rose and the Little Prince and the Tiniest Planet made of a living Crystal Heart of Dreams
of the Drawer or of the Reader or of the Dreamer or of You or of I
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 8:25 PM UTC
My soul is the master,
My body is an obedient servant.
Without a soul,
My body is just a corpse,
A wasted husk.
The beauty of my body lies
when it is in partnership with my soul,
Just as you need to exercise and go to a gym to maintain your body's fitness,
You need to go to a mosque,church or temple to maintain your soul's purity.
Your body is a carcass that is going to decompose in the soil,
Your soul is destined for your hereafter,
Your soul will be accountable for your deeds good or bad,
Your soul will accumulate Allah's rewards and blessings.
That can only be done by fasting,praying and giving alms,
Not to forget pilgrimage,
Which imbibes piety and certainty in you,
Guards you against evil,
Restrains you from shameful and unjustful deeds,
Cleanses and purifies your soul,
So that it leaves your body with least pain,
And the Angels come with joy to wrap in soft musk scented cloth,
And take you to your creator.
7/6/2019
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC
Camera please
Bring your camera please
O' my media, O' my Press
Bring your camera please
Come and praise me
Praise my looks
Praise my dress
Praise my deeds
Praise my voice
Praise my style
Praise my mind
Praise my actions
Never bother for money
You are my media
Just praise me, Jump
Sing and dance for me
Play to my tune
Just play it repeatedly
I will pay you enough
Much more than you think
I never use to pay a dime
From the pockets of mine
I often pay from others pocket
I feel I have the right to do so
I never pay to my wife
I never pay to my children
I never pay to my family
I never pay to my friends
I earn and earn and earn
I spend, spend and spend
But not on anyone else
I spend only for myself
Though I often take selfies
But please don’t call me selfish
My heart truly beat for others
My nose truly breathes for other
My kidney purifies for others
My liver work for others
My eyes see for others
My ears hear for others
My leg walk for others
My mind think for others
I am the divine soul
Only I am the divine soul
If you fail to praise me
If you dare to criticize me
Then you are not a press
You are not a media
Then what you are?
You are fake news
Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 7:54 AM UTC
DANCING MAN:
My right foot up
and my left hand on my head
Oh this sake
brings me Heavenly fever;
sake purifies my heart
and the gods are pleased
and I dance
like the Shinto spirits of old
MAN with the CUP:
Oh, drink and be merry
be lifted high in the air
by sake and its spirit;
the Toji has done well
a master brewer he;
and dance you well
in this ecstasy
and while your eyes
are towards the gods
I'll steal a sip or two
that shall build into
more than a cup for me:
*O dance in the spirit of sake -
another cup I hold ready
for you, always*
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 5:06 PM UTC
I want to be fluid, I want to be smooth
With the ability to soothe
Be like the waters
With seashell daughters
Of streams and brooks and rain
Always tender, always humble, never vain
Yet still ruling with sovereign reign
Nothing should ever be able to stop me
Nothing can stop the ocean or the sea
Not even time
I want to be huge, I want to be sublime
Never hurt, never chagrined
I want to have no fear of the wind
And even less of the heat or the cold
I want to shimmer with gold
When the sun sets
Away from mortal things like hate or regrets
I want to learn to sing like water
Without ever wearying, tiring,
Wheezing or expiring
I want to be the water
When it hums to the night
Chants to the stars bright
Stroking the sand
I want to be water never bland
I want to be the water that glorifies
Which runs, which plays, purifies
Which is sweet and pure, untainted, unattainable
I want to be the water mysterious and unexplainable
I want to be the water when it unfolds
When it holds
The seaweed with maiden hands
I want to be the water when it expands
Dances, sways, flows,
Diverted from the abyss
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 1:10 AM UTC
Notes, musical keys, rythmic changes-
A modification of the Word
Which purifies her soulfulness
And expresses clarities in the fog,
The hint of Dickinson in her words,
The scent of reality in her reflection,
The words become a path:
One wet summer I heard your words,
The vibrant sky breaths
And the sun became as embers
Of poetic sacrifice,
Through reading your poem
I became as a double being,
Movement began
A sudden dispersion of birds
Followed by the Humm of water
On stone,
Murmurs of infinite moments
Painting them all like some
Poet Saint,
The words became a lineage
To the unfathomable depths of you,
In the helix of hours
The beat of the sea and the stilled
Shimmers of light on water can be found
In the edification of her poetry;
Master strokes,
Like a naked liberation
Of a diamond body beyond
A turquoise sunset,
A co concubine of words
That form constellated meanings
Among the pnumbra,
Reminiscent of the March of hours
In which the words come
And a fixed glitter in her eyes form,
The form of woman,
A form of dizziness
Like a dance of wind and water,
I read between the words,
Vicki,
Vicki,
I imagine a lamp in the middle
Of the night,
A pen and a womans scorching
Words as God had spoken
The First Word,
Like a moon in heat in midday's
Grasp, she counters every word
Of expression
Like a cell for my tortured soul,
She became my solitary star,
I wander in her hours,
Hungry for more words,
A memory inventing itself,
Masterfully,
She makes the sky walk the land.
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 3:19 PM UTC
This skin I’m in….
Has taken time to understand, appreciate and heal
From the burden of deep pigmentation
See, growing up frustration and humiliation was my constant station
Called names like “blacky,” “midnight,” and “streetblack,”
I embraced the negativity and wore pain like a sack
I bore the brunt of racism taught within my own community
And there was no immunity for me
I could not escape this dark skin
From year to year
The torture became more severe
And my self-esteem almost ceased to exist
Because I saw myself the way others saw me
I began to speak the same negative words
Spewed by others to myself
This deep pigmentation lead to alienation
I truly hated my dark skin….
In high school, I decided to work on me
And not care so much about what others thought
I told myself that I was more than a conqueror
I spoke more positive words and
I thought the darkness of my skin, didn’t win
But I still got told that “I was cute to be dark,”
Could it be that I was just cute
Not focusing on dark or light?
That is when I begin to realize, this wasn’t my fight
It’s my job to build my own self-esteem
It’s right in the definition, it’s literally what it means
Self-Esteem is how you see yourself!
It’s then that I chose to embrace this dark skin
That absorbs the sun, shines like onyx,
Purifies like charcoal and stands regal like a raven
This skin I’m in has taught me how to soar to higher heights
Loving every step my chocolate blessed feet trod…
Mar 23, 2021
Mar 23, 2021 at 9:21 PM UTC
Morning voice whispers:
Stillness and silence bring and guide the soul from the darkness into the door of light, bring hopes, bring tears of happiness, and dancing into the new breath of life, rebirth and producing "healthy baby"... And known that I'm loved I'm being blessed.
Poetry replies:
All welcome... As the dews in the morning shimmering the rays of love to the world... All welcome... As the morning air cleanses the past burdens... Purifies the bloodstream of mind and heart to the point (of no return) where freedom exhilarates life; envisions the paths for greater humanity and God's glory... All welcome...
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 10:45 PM UTC
My mind is adrift
Waves of 3 am Lap at the shore of an isthmus called psyche
There between the seas of reality and dreams
Three shots deep and diving,
I drown my better judgement in a pool of fireball
Music blares, but the words melt as I listen
White noise in a black night,
One more drink,
One more drink
The fire in my throat is burning
Like the fire that purifies the gold
The old verses ring in my head,
And the pastor spits a sermon over dr dre’s beats,
A prayer in the dark murmurs through drunken lips,
And then at last track ends, the priest descends from the pulpit
In the deafening silence, I leave my drink on the desk, still not empty
I stumble my way to my oblivion
And pull the covers up to my neck.
Now I lay me down to sleep
And languid waves wash me out to sea without a shore
The nightly giliad of a lonely druckard
Sipping steel in an empty room,
And talking to the voices in my head
Lost on a road with no lines
Lost hold of the iron rod and see no signs
To guide me on my way
And so I float away on a magic carpet
Seeks the genie in that bottle with only one wish
The only one it can grant me.
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 12:36 AM UTC
The agnostics have gone
Cuckoo.
They have carefully lost their minds!
The profound and the loyal:
God among men.
The citizens and patriots
Are fighting the Devil in Dixie.
And in this world of
Sustained images of hope,
The shamrock and the
Sun-kissed face.
Oh the Sun, that purifies all that it touches
Damns all that it doesn't.
Jul 13, 2011
Jul 13, 2011 at 3:07 PM UTC