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"purities" poems
did you know that the self effulgent light of God it self is **** shaped as above so below the inner revelation ******* above...light woven *** hole below ...flesh woven does this not infer a magical operation perhaps a hermetic ritual of adoration perhaps a puja to the **** with ornate kaleidoscopic mandalas replete with wrinkles and folds emerald toilet bowls silk *** wipe with full color florals to be ingratiated by **** art prints and to be fussed over and judged by certified ******* clergy then to cleanse with fragrant ointments that it may remain unsullied by its birthing labors voluptuous smoldering fecundations for purities sake as god remains free of limitation it too must remain free of its forgetful tarnished children i build  temple of **** high above the people the little ***** do they even know where they come from how they may devote themselves to the grandeur of the solar **** and its bestowals of clumpy torpedoes the catechism of the  solar **** to know to adore to prostrate to proselytize the glory of **** to the for corners of the earth to be faithful unto it to be obedient and present your ******* for ritual manicures by the true initiates the fussy ******* faeries   those who have the secret knowledge and remain true to the lore and precepts set forth of divine correspondences to fully appreciate its eminence its glory and have no God before it that mercy will follow them all the days of there lives*
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Jul 16, 2016
Jul 16, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
Temple of **** ...explicit...adult...social relgious commentary
*Upon a bright spring morning, In the warmth of the ember sun, Adorable chromatic koi's pose, Graciously leaping in a distinctive pond. Casually stroking their fins, In a flattering array, On this delightful, And cheerful beautiful day. As they glide smoothly, Hiding underneath huge stones, Preciously playing peekaboo, Each in a beauty of their own. Near a tall brick wall .... beneath the purities of cascading waters, Portraying a lively show, As the zephyr gently embrace, And the waterfall plays a soothing percussion, as it flows.*
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Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
Preciously Playing Peekaboo
On the ocean of life I Dropped  thought-pebbles Resonances in winds Rebounding in ripples Actions born in countless waves Triggering counter-actions! Cataracts of wonders, suddenly Vomiting volumes of gold Pouring golden flames Into life ocean purities Bouncing up hills and valleys In voyage of expectations Creating realities in emeralds! Tumbling air in blues Skies beatific glory binges In endless waves in azure skies Echoing sounds of depth Deeper than the deep Launching into the Deep Harvesting immortal gold Reaping eternal glory!
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Mar 14, 2019
Mar 14, 2019 at 9:28 AM UTC
SOUND OF DEPTH
The hollow truth carried on the wind Budding asphodels wilted upon the pyre of paradise Erst the rusted gates of Heaven Deleing corrupt realm deliverance salting The rivers of Eden, Ananta, contemner of dawn Stealing Levannah breaking Sol. Without brethren kith, treading the tide Of redemption thitherto A tear in the fabric of the universe Another drop in the ocean aflame So that that fire humanity could be set Broken vessels as like sunken ships Eclipsing their own elan; Fraying equilibrium averred officers of Hell No more angels standing yet ranked still In offices most high despairing Purities ruination conjunctively As with the same stride sought in Pitched battle- touchable caste Derelict of kin. ELEETE J MUIR
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Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 5:59 AM UTC
The Shroud of Wistfulness
I She gave up beauty in her tender youth, Gave all her hope and joy and pleasant ways; She covered up her eyes lest they should gaze On vanity, and chose the bitter truth. Harsh towards herself, towards others full of ruth, Servant of servants, little known to praise, Long prayers and fasts trenched on her nights and days She schooled herself to sights and sounds uncouth That with the poor and stricken she might make A home, until the least of all sufficed Her wants; her own self learned she to forsake, Counting all earthly gain but hurt and loss. So with calm will she chose and bore the cross And hated all for love of Jesus Christ. II They knelt in silent anguish by her bed, And could not weep; but calmly there she lay; All pain had left her; and the sun's last ray Shone through upon her, warming into red The shady curtains. In her heart she said: "Heaven opens; I leave these and go away; The Bridegroom calls,--shall the Bride seek to stay?" Then low upon her breast she bowed her head. O lily flower, O gem of priceless worth, O dove with patient voice and patient eyes, O fruitful vine amid a land of dearth, O maid replete with loving purities, Thou bowedst down thy head with friends on earth To raise it with the saints in Paradise.
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1.7k
A Portrait
Immorality has incarcerated My concentration Cynical thoughts raging Darkness awakens with lunacy Disavow away to a lifeless residue How can a man untrue attain himself? Diabolical tactics Twisting with no sudden moves Chances to convert As another being cleanses a bewildered soul Tomorrow crease Figures to be washed Into ghostly purities of gold May the spirits spare amuse of confusion
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Jan 19, 2010
Jan 19, 2010 at 5:38 AM UTC
Confuse with lunacy
They ask me a question every day, They ask me 'Oh darling! How much do you weigh?' And I answer this question every day, I wish to tell them, 'I am not made up of flesh and bones, I do not weigh on scales and stones. I weigh the love letters never sent, I weigh my heart I gave on rent, I weigh all my insecurities, I weigh Ganga's purities. I weigh the prayers of my mother. I weigh the hard work of my father. I weigh the thirty-two-inch smile I carry and flaunt every day, I weigh the fears which haunt me every day, I weigh all the love I have for him, And I am certain that weighs more than the stories I dream, I weigh the fairytales I've read, And I weigh the kindness I've fed. I weigh my hope, And I weigh my dreams. I weigh my faith, And I weigh my screams. So I weigh the lightest I could ever be, And the heaviest you could ever imagine being.' But then in the end, I murmur the words '47 kilograms', A lean and skinny girl is what I am.
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Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
My Weight
You said "I'm not hollow simply scarce and soundproof. Double jointed at the valves and cured of retched emotions." But your sensory was superb Your touch lingered in all of it's lacking purities It mapped out the freckles lining my lips A map you traced too often upon the bodies of far too many what's her faces hips Yet you always came back to devour more Understanding your underlying intentions became irrelevant and obscured To count the conflicting answers which were fed in heaps of sugar lined words would drown me in irrationality and bitter conformity And when your ghost is the only thing left to banter to as you smile upon the great unknowns I'll smother the context of my emotions beneath the cages of my ribs And walk towards the bare, unhinged moon with no remorse left to speak of Leaving only salted words for you to inhale into your lungs (C) Tiffanie Doro
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Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
Strangers by default
*who are we in god we trust, the ruler of a nation bereft of purities corrupt ink in the capsule of a human’s casing wages printed on the stoic faces of our leaders, blood and gore imprinted on their eyelids spilling our incoherent tangle of words into songs and pleads for relief we are spitting images of our mother, and her mother iodized wounds that stretch to our finger-prints that they deem must be caged and stamped at all costs our wrists are battered and tied with the rope of our pride and our pink flesh is swelled up with their brand freshly printed onto our skin that reads, ‘you are nothing’ nothing but chains of forgotten children abandoned in rusted swing-sets children who’s screams are full of hot air like the balloons that loiter about our minds the balloons that burst sharply in a staccato beat when bittered thoughts contaminate them we are children who press our fingers into our eye sockets and scavenge around the recesses of our minds young hands damp with drops of the dreams that cascade down the pores in our bodies the drops that empty into the gutter that encroaches the territory of our bones pushed back dreams like the rotten tomatoes that stink of moldy desperation in the grocery store memories melted into perfect formations like a drill soldier with a stone-cold face empty of temerity memories stacked up like all you can eat pancakes that drape over us like an everlasting blithe they leave vague impressions of naivety and sit despairingly upon our caged ribs they cower behind closed doors and occasionally peek out from the clouds of illusions to say, ‘are you happy?’ but they disappear with cruel inspection like a fading smoke because we don’t dare to discover the truth but even still we harbor desolation-spiked weapons that secrete through the same pores that piece us together we are the ripest of onions, a scintillating mixture of strong scents and spirits and the moment we realize this we try to scrape the walls of our binding try to peel ourselves of the revolving emotions that we have been programmed with and as our wrinkled layers flake off, we learn a bit more about how different we seem to appear until we are nothing but a sun-dried core, who has found the truth only to move never-more*
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Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 8:17 PM UTC
who are we
*who are we in god we trust, the ruler of a nation bereft of purities corrupt ink in the capsule of a human’s casing wages printed on the stoic faces of our leaders, blood and gore imprinted on their eyelids spilling our incoherent tangle of words into songs and pleads for relief we are spitting images of our mother, and her mother iodized wounds that stretch to our finger-prints that they deem must be caged and stamped at all costs our wrists are battered and tied with the rope of our pride and our pink flesh is swelled up with their brand freshly printed onto our skin that reads, ‘you are nothing’ nothing but chains of forgotten children abandoned in rusted swing-sets children who’s screams are full of hot air like the balloons that loiter about our minds the balloons that burst sharply in a staccato beat when bittered thoughts contaminate them we are children who press our fingers into our eye sockets and scavenge around the recesses of our minds young hands damp with drops of the dreams that cascade down the pores in our bodies the drops that empty into the gutter that encroaches the territory of our bones pushed back dreams like the rotten tomatoes that stink of moldy desperation in the grocery store memories melted into perfect formations like a drill soldier with a stone-cold face empty of temerity memories stacked up like all you can eat pancakes that drape over us like an everlasting blithe they leave vague impressions of naivety and sit despairingly upon our caged ribs they cower behind closed doors and occasionally peek out from the clouds of illusions to say, ‘are you happy?’ but they disappear with cruel inspection like a fading smoke because we don’t dare to discover the truth but even still we harbor desolation-spiked weapons that secrete through the same pores that piece us together we are the ripest of onions, a scintillating mixture of strong scents and spirits and the moment we realize this we try to scrape the walls of our binding try to peel ourselves of the revolving emotions that we have been programmed with and as our wrinkled layers flake off, we learn a bit more about how different we seem to appear until we are nothing but a sun-dried core, who has found the truth only to move never-more*
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28
The bells tolled in silent air, no mummers Where uttered in haste as white cloth over Black draped upon their figures. On the desecrated reminisce of ash petals That grow in this place each is picked with Elegance so not to fracture there fragility. A new one Is found to replace those that Unveiled their voices on solemn oaths to words Never to be uttered, they surrendered it t air. Voices of blood echoed on the floor, a chastity Forsaken and white cloth drank upon the wine Till it had its fill, then voiced its intent in puddles. The shaded leaf was gently dissected between fingers And where lips blessed word, the ash sealed them with The twine of dead embers, and they screamed silently. Silken coverings where bestowed on the vacant realms Of purities, in the convent of silence where the dead Don't speak and muteness is a sound only heard.
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Jan 21, 2016
Jan 21, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC
Sisters Of The Silent Ash
I want my chance. I wanted to bask in the sunlight with nothing but your company; I do not seek any more than your being. I want you to see me shine, to thrive in my comfort zone, and soar outside of it; I want to quit the chit chat, I despise small talk. I love long walks, and you would have never even known. I don’t want to be looked right through, like my glasses reflect you and your choices and our voices fade into our own minds and neither one of us can conjure up a way to unwind and speak of our passions, our inspirations, our fears, and not just simple the weather. Could it really hurt to test the waters? I am sick of questioning myself; am I trying to hard? Just give me a way to measure the depth of your interest, have we sparked a match, or do see me as this cesspool of unwarranted emotions and insecurities? Because I look at you and see so many purities, but I see the uncertainty as well. Yet, I still can’t get a read on what it is behind your shell. Show me bits and pieces of yourself, and I swear I am willing to try and piece it together, but you’re giving me nothing but pieces of alternating puzzles - yeah, I have put together an entire cloud, but this, over here, looks like the ocean and this, this is definitely part of Mount Rushmore, and I’ve no ******* clue as to where any of those pieces connect. I don’t know why I set myself up for such failure. I want to know you, but the mystery is your primary allure. I want to know what is beneath your trademarks, the dark parts of your eyes, your evident demise, but at the same time, I am terrified. I don’t think it could shock me, I can work with outrageous. But, I don’t think I could handle finding out you were mundane; a bourgeois creature. Alas, I am stuck in this loop, of wanting all of you, but at the same time, none of you. Tell me, how does one keep a mysterious persona?
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Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 2:31 AM UTC
Self Discovery Through Means of Wonder
I want my chance. I wanted to bask in the sunlight with nothing but your company; I do not seek any more than your being. I want you to see me shine, to thrive in my comfort zone, and soar outside of it; I want to quit the chit chat, I despise small talk. I love long walks, and you would have never even known. I don’t want to be looked right through, like my glasses reflect you and your choices and our voices fade into our own minds and neither one of us can conjure up a way to unwind and speak of our passions, our inspirations, our fears, and not just simple the weather. Could it really hurt to test the waters? I am sick of questioning myself; am I trying to hard? Just give me a way to measure the depth of your interest, have we sparked a match, or do see me as this cesspool of unwarranted emotions and insecurities? Because I look at you and see so many purities, but I see the uncertainty as well. Yet, I still can’t get a read on what it is behind your shell. Show me bits and pieces of yourself, and I swear I am willing to try and piece it together, but you’re giving me nothing but pieces of alternating puzzles - yeah, I have put together an entire cloud, but this, over here, looks like the ocean and this, this is definitely part of Mount Rushmore, and I’ve no ******* clue as to where any of those pieces connect. I don’t know why I set myself up for such failure. I want to know you, but the mystery is your primary allure. I want to know what is beneath your trademarks, the dark parts of your eyes, your evident demise, but at the same time, I am terrified. I don’t think it could shock me, I can work with outrageous. But, I don’t think I could handle finding out you were mundane; a bourgeois creature. Alas, I am stuck in this loop, of wanting all of you, but at the same time, none of you. Tell me, how does one keep a mysterious persona?
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9
The raven does soar, ever preying upon Purities wing, perched ever waiting For that flight on that which is white. Gliding onwards does its momentum Carry to the above, but the ash woven Wings wait to claim feathers weight. Its talons wish to shred upon those Untaintedness, but were beckoned To be as blunt as paper on stone. There is a moment of singularity, As merging feathers become one But then are torn apart in haste Ever covering shaded moments upon the The doves release, but feathers loosened Forth and purity fell once more free.
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Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 5:57 PM UTC
The Raven & The Dove
I will never forget the times we had, Yes, things could’ve been better, and further. What more can I say no longer all sad, A heart restored, broken on back burner. The ones who warn will always sacrifice, Willingly not knowing what to enter. We sometimes don’t know what will come at price, In loving you lone, I a dementer. Your feelings are valid just as all I, The shadows are here as I haunt know. Lo and behold? I don’t want a goodbye, Your purities never too much to show. God! Rage you must the chills come time the spined? Locked memories no one will ever find…
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Feb 21, 2024
Feb 21, 2024 at 4:24 PM UTC
Locked Memories No One Will Ever Find...
*Blood Soaked Dreams Rivals over my nightmares Truth revenges over the falsifying fact As rumors fly through my mind Overtures of enriched fables Embark on minds’ eye As it wanders off into depths Of the journeys awaiting Peddling right past the path Interstate mind flare, as it all gets twisted for U-turns Questioning the mind-erased populous As one would say… Where to go; Who to be One’s enjoyment of rightful thought As freedom expresses its pureness Theory of moments Fore the next second could change it all The belief in the strength of becoming Only gives the mind its purities Focusing on the indulgence of knowing That all will remain okay Knowing the courageous path to take A path which enriches the soul The opening of my beautiful wings To show all that it’s a brand new day A lustrous event is about to begin The striding momentum Has strengthened its bouts The meaning of reality Its blissful harmony With its surroundings As life’s doors opened up To shed a brand new light A journey opens up To play in favor To Truth of Being!!!*
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May 20, 2010
May 20, 2010 at 5:29 AM UTC
Theory of Moments
Life is split by our only purities Black and white; hate and love But which were you? You started out as gray; so I screamed and smeared you black It was easier to darken something than make it lighter But which were you? Perhaps you were pale enough for me to have lied I could have just blurred my eyes and made you white But which were you? You made my world rotten; gray Some parts dried white and others soaked in black But which were you? You’ve been gray since forever And you’ve grayed my senses
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Sep 11, 2011
Sep 11, 2011 at 9:33 PM UTC
Since You Grayed My Senses
Do you know how incredible you are? I didn’t think so. I told you once. I think you forgot. When I look into your eyes When I feel your heartbeat With all your insecurities Every one Your beautiful purity Your soft light The aura of your miracle Is truly Blinding Us Let me look at you Ah, there you are Like a blast from the past Like the thing I’ve always been looking for Waiting for Waiting No More For That smile is something else… Where did you get that? God must have given that to you. It certainly looks as beautiful as God makes me feel. Do you remember that time When we were dreaming together? You held my hand and we were running Through the fields of our love The light was so blinding Exactly the same way That you’re blinding Me now If I promise to hold you To be there to unfold you When the emptiness Remains And the clouds Settle in Could you promise To smile at me like that Everyday? What if I say You can be however you want? Would you drop your insecurities? Would you drown me in the purities Of your love? Could it be Our love? The things you don’t believe About yourself Are the things I will encourage Everyday that you attempt To travel backwards And discourage it I will be there If you trust me If you take my hand We can move this Mountain Someone forgot to tell you How beautiful you are I am only grateful Because I get to be the one To say it In This Moment Do you remember that time When we were dreaming together? You held my hand and we were running Through the fields of our love The light was so blinding Exactly the same way That you’re blinding Me now Shine on Glow Even if you truly Do not know One day You will And I will be here To soothe the pain To face the fear To add a feather On either side To find you When you want to hide To help you Extinguish your insecurities To Spread your wings To help you blind the world With the light of your love And Other Things tHE tERRY tREE
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Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
BLINDING
Do you know how incredible you are? I didn’t think so. I told you once. I think you forgot. When I look into your eyes When I feel your heartbeat With all your insecurities Every one Your beautiful purity Your soft light The aura of your miracle Is truly Blinding Us Let me look at you Ah, there you are Like a blast from the past Like the thing I’ve always been looking for Waiting for Waiting No More For That smile is something else… Where did you get that? God must have given that to you. It certainly looks as beautiful as God makes me feel. Do you remember that time When we were dreaming together? You held my hand and we were running Through the fields of our love The light was so blinding Exactly the same way That you’re blinding Me now If I promise to hold you To be there to unfold you When the emptiness Remains And the clouds Settle in Could you promise To smile at me like that Everyday? What if I say You can be however you want? Would you drop your insecurities? Would you drown me in the purities Of your love? Could it be Our love? The things you don’t believe About yourself Are the things I will encourage Everyday that you attempt To travel backwards And discourage it I will be there If you trust me If you take my hand We can move this Mountain Someone forgot to tell you How beautiful you are I am only grateful Because I get to be the one To say it In This Moment Do you remember that time When we were dreaming together? You held my hand and we were running Through the fields of our love The light was so blinding Exactly the same way That you’re blinding Me now Shine on Glow Even if you truly Do not know One day You will And I will be here To soothe the pain To face the fear To add a feather On either side To find you When you want to hide To help you Extinguish your insecurities To Spread your wings To help you blind the world With the light of your love And Other Things tHE tERRY tREE
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101
A graceful praise, A momentous moment The climb, The leap, The spark of eternity Life in the fast lane, Crash course Walk the line, Never to cross it A straight narrow path, Never too wide Biased feelings trapped within rat sized cage Compassionate feelings running through and through Heart is open wide, Eyes even wider The height of a new era is about to start A brand new beginning, An ending shows the way Any array of doorways opening to endless possibilities Only one remains closed off, To earn rightful passage Look deep within your soul, you find a key Set upon the lane with boots strapped tightly Don't hunch over, never slouch lazily Be proud of who you are, Stand tall with honor Remember we fall to learn how to get up Errors are to be made, mistakes are to be learnt from Feats of strength tend to make us stronger in the eye of the beholder Tests of courage leads us with gallantry through remorse Never let defeat overcome our purities Washing away the mud from our vision Never to let anything stand in our way Of our envisions of the grandest intentions
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Apr 6, 2010
Apr 6, 2010 at 7:36 AM UTC
With Greater Intentions
Holy Mother hear me now! The High Priestess sits jaded on sapphire throne wreath'd in laurel purities, Blessing the sinners one by one as they line up grovelling down the block, Shivering for acceptance, the emaciated children of a future abandoned and thrown to the wolves, In reverence, she watches the nations burn! The prisons burn! The churches burn! The balance bleeds the light of dawn into the sidewalk cracks and tinted apothecary windows, While the other end of the spectrum weeps blackest night into the open casket funerals of the unjustifiable crimes committed in the name of PEACE The Almighty PEACE PEACE in the Highest PEACE at all costs The High Priestess rains down PEACE from her bomb shelter throne You may not understand it now But this is for your own good
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Aug 28, 2015
Aug 28, 2015 at 4:38 PM UTC
II. The High Priestess
There is a certain type of feeling. There are words for most but I can't find the one for this particular feeling. Sickening? Gut-Wrenching? Heartbroken? None of these really seem to work. The way I estimate my own self worth, Realize I'm cursed since birth and move back to the first, Initial thought, Hoping that while I ran from my own integrity I would trip and get caught, I never thought I would trip and slide off the edge of the ridge, Fall and break bones and futures full of tree houses and kids, Seems like I ******* up. Yeah, to say the least, All I have ever wanted was freedom enough to be entrapped with you in the sheets, Maybe Sunday mornings with our son, a football, and some cleats, But I ****** up didn't I. You've sworn now and I guess that changes things. I messed up enough to burn up everything I had to bring, I messed up some purities, crossed some lines that weren't mine to cross, I've taken so much time trying to protect you but I've only lost, I've paid the dues, for meals, little dates, but seems like now I've paid a higher cost, A price I wasn't excited to of created, But I did. ****
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Jun 25, 2016
Jun 25, 2016 at 10:04 PM UTC
An Initial Folly
Though usually a preference of fantasies Are never stored in my conscious, Tonight images are appearing into a sweet oblivion with your name on it. The thought of us becoming one soul, breathing with one heart, and devouring each other's flesh-- I never had that in mind, but tonight, unlike other nights of purities and a bland image my desire has risen, and the only thing i want to feel is the enchantment of you.
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Jul 10, 2010
Jul 10, 2010 at 8:04 PM UTC
HUNGER
The agonizing descent began with a single tear Waves of despair washing away glimmers of faith Sounds of voices becoming insincere Life at the mercy of the reaper’s snathe Pleas drowned out by ungrateful minds Reckless decisions clouding judgment Sight blinded by all of mankind Ambition forced into becoming recumbent Landing with a force so strong Ignorant to the surrounding shadow Caught in a feeling hidden for too long Tempted by the emptiness of tomorrow Rising a wary eye to see Dreading what lies in the darkness Fearing the gaze of a beastly devotee The last remains of the heartless A ghastly creature looms above Paralyzing fear skipping a beat Yearning the heart of a mourning dove Gaze lowers in the acceptance of defeat A facade retreats to reveal a broken shard A reflection of inner pain set free Loneliness leaving the soul scarred Never having experienced the sensuality No longer held back by the feeling of being afraid Realizations of similarity A hand reaches out to pervade Minds trusting the confidence of sincerity A bond formed between damaged obscurities Breaking the mold carved by fate Mirror revealing the true purities Becoming a new incarnate No longer the one to blame Giving a home to those who suffer They would call out a simple name A winged lord dubbed Lucifer
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Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
Lucifer
In the complex fullness of moments, even a hesitant step can tread on a butterfly carelessly! With a swirling, frightened rainbow wing marching richly into proud freedom! Hesitantly tumbling, the lonely silence can also hurt: the eye perseveres searching for punctuation engraved in a wall, while the claw rays of the accompanying moonlight appear on a ominous veil of nights! We also deliberately closed the proud sighs of our eloquent words to our hearings!   In no man's land a wreath of thorns has been woven out of sorrow! Wounded resentment is more easily absorbed into the depths of the Spirit; the burden of accents can permeate every well-groomed, spicy sentence because it is throbbing and present, like a sick plague! As a child orphaned by ugly deeds: I am embarrassed with terrified eyes at the same time, and I do not know if you will be complimented by a merciful, angelic goodness in the manner of Don Quoijotek. "I can only let silent anyone I sincerely want!" My melancholy pleasure, immersed in lethargy, would still be good to share with the babysitter; in the captivating Universe, we could all be together even in the moods we can experience, and it would be unnecessary to further complicate the rules of our secret childish rhymes in a hundred ways!   The smallness of our details is often heard through the purities of decipherable communications; the latent curses of envy-jealousy are already crystallizing in the marshland of hateful temper! There is no longer much meaning in the word consolation, where human intention alone can make up tempers! - Disembodied anxious, great dreads in the depths of eternal-childish souls: the smell of rotting rot flows in prodigal hearts! Even in my few minutes of imagination, it was enough to marry misleading lies! It is better to get out at the very beginning from the protection of conceivable emotions, and let the snowman alone melt into the beautified memory of summer!
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Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 1:19 AM UTC
You frailty
In the complex fullness of moments, even a hesitant step can tread on a butterfly carelessly! With a swirling, frightened rainbow wing marching richly into proud freedom! Hesitantly tumbling, the lonely silence can also hurt: the eye perseveres searching for punctuation engraved in a wall, while the claw rays of the accompanying moonlight appear on a ominous veil of nights! We also deliberately closed the proud sighs of our eloquent words to our hearings!   In no man's land a wreath of thorns has been woven out of sorrow! Wounded resentment is more easily absorbed into the depths of the Spirit; the burden of accents can permeate every well-groomed, spicy sentence because it is throbbing and present, like a sick plague! As a child orphaned by ugly deeds: I am embarrassed with terrified eyes at the same time, and I do not know if you will be complimented by a merciful, angelic goodness in the manner of Don Quoijotek. "I can only let silent anyone I sincerely want!" My melancholy pleasure, immersed in lethargy, would still be good to share with the babysitter; in the captivating Universe, we could all be together even in the moods we can experience, and it would be unnecessary to further complicate the rules of our secret childish rhymes in a hundred ways!   The smallness of our details is often heard through the purities of decipherable communications; the latent curses of envy-jealousy are already crystallizing in the marshland of hateful temper! There is no longer much meaning in the word consolation, where human intention alone can make up tempers! - Disembodied anxious, great dreads in the depths of eternal-childish souls: the smell of rotting rot flows in prodigal hearts! Even in my few minutes of imagination, it was enough to marry misleading lies! It is better to get out at the very beginning from the protection of conceivable emotions, and let the snowman alone melt into the beautified memory of summer!
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3
Do we fall Before they grow old or Were ever even born to be felled? The stock still Tellurian laud In mode of passion Specific not yet pacific; Or are we pushed? whilst Love is left to rot and the Vast xoanon pap unmanifest To cede within the catacombs Cooking carrots and peas in the same *** Like a Hymn of Ascent As you cannot shake hands with A clenched fist or Angels breath Upon purities ruination,- Hells favourite fable A fairy-tale admist humanity A nursery rhyme at will Memorized by demons Of the helved simony Forsakenly told of The souls nexus and an Enchanted book writ in heaven Owned by God. ELEETE J MUIR
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Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
Countanance
The flood left a cavity. It came in without mercy, It removed and ripped what I held onto, It took away what I loved, But it's ironic that a flood of love removed all the love that I ever had. The flood diluted it's impurities with my purities.
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Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 3:22 PM UTC
Diluted
Sitting under a weird tree with my pretty dress on eyes shut Senses open I wait for you Oh dear tree -as weird as we together can be- When you come, if you come Bring me a single flower A flower whose nature we both know so well A pure and the untouched one- you know? And make sure it will be as pure as all the destroyed purities of this universe as untouched as all the pains touched and only then I will see you with my eyes shut sitting on top of the sole sunny ray patched hill painting patiently as future and past gets so near Now glow of your face is my palette of pastel colors diluted by crystal waters oh and only then galaxies, stars and suns radiated by your glittery eyes which I have known so well since the beginning of times will form a new land for the creatures here and for us at this new place across the bridge we just managed to cross before its collapse you know? And When you come if you come but, oh, so, No I won’t move until that time.
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Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 5:46 PM UTC
The lonely flower of the Sunny Ray Patched Hill