"redeemed" poems
For attractive lips, speak words of kindness.
For lovely eyes, seek out the good in people.
For a slim figure, share your food with the hungry.
For beautiful hair, let a child run his or her fingers through it once a day.
For poise, walk with the knowledge that you never walk alone.
People, even more than things, have to be restored, renewed, revived, reclaimed and redeemed; never throw out anyone.
Remember, if you ever need a helping hand, you'll find one at the end of each of your arms.
As you grow older, you will discover that you have two hands, one for helping yourself, the other for helping others.
The beauty of a woman is not in the clothes she wears, the figure she carries, or the way she combs her hair. The beauty of a woman must be seen from in her eyes, because that is the doorway to her heart, the place where love resides.
The beauty of a woman is not in a ****** mole, but the true beauty in a woman is reflected in her soul. It is the caring that she lovingly gives, the passion that she shows, and the beauty of a woman with passing years only grows!
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 4:03 PM UTC
Standing on a secluded cliff,
Turning my eyes to the sea.
I try to net with the smallest sniff
What freedom and oblivion may be.
The waves crashing onto the rocky shore,
Each one inevitably fading away;
no longer being part of the bore,
but instead washing over the bay.
I wonder how it feels giving up to the stream;
My lungs filled with endless devotion.
For I realize the waves crashing to be redeemed
Don´t matter as long as they're part of the ocean.
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 1:20 PM UTC
<Loud as you can say it>
I am Outlaw!
-call me Pirate!
I live such freedom,
all souls admire it!
The awful God,
has judged my soul,
Weighs his measure,
I'll pay my toll!
<In a high-pitched voice>
The sailor's way,
path unknown,
Stars are clouded,
nothing shown?
The sea's are high,
a storm is here,
Davey Jones' Locker,
my home is near.
<Loud again, yell it>
There is no heaven,
there is no hell,
Life on seas,
the seas they swell,
Fish scales on arms,
scales on my legs,
Heart born free,
dread-locked and dregs!
I am Outlaw!
-call me Pirate!
Lost lives redeemed,
some should admire it,
The ship upended,
all hands to drown,
In Davey Jones' Locker,
a peaceful sound...
<In a high-pitched voice>
The sailor's way,
path unknown,
Stars are clouded,
nothing shown?
My time has ended,
fate is near,
Davey Jones' Locker,
my death is here.
<Loud again, yell it>
I am Outlaw!
-call me Pirate!
A man of valor,
some do admire it.
I am Outlaw!
-call me Pirate!
A dreadful life,
though some desire it.
I am Outlaw!
-call me Pirate!
To Davey Jones' Locker,
my deeds require it.
I am Outlaw!
-call me Pirate!
I AM OUTLAW!
-CALL ME PIRATE!
I am Outlaw!!
-call me Pirate!
My life on the ocean,
my God inside it.
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 11:56 PM UTC
Prejudice
Is the scourge
Of mankind.
We can
Hate
A person
Before we talk to them.
That is in no way
Right.
It is in every way
Wrong.
I want a different
Type
Of prejudice.
I want to pre-judge
Everyone
As beautiful
Lovely
Redeemed
Forgiven
And
I want to love them
Before I even speak to them
Or hear them speak.
Before I know their name.
Or who they are.
My very own
Prejudice.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
Why I Always Carry Tissues
To My Children:
I'm laughing at myself,
As I am prone to do because
Why I Always Carry Tissues
Is the title of a poem
I write for you.
There is a story here,
Of parenting, and responsibilties
That transcends yourself, defines me,
Vis-a-vis you,
then and there, and maybe now.
When you were small,
I took you by the hand,
The cement canyons, trails & rivers
of West Eighty Six Street,
Together, we would ford.
Periodically, as Fathers are prone to do,
Your hand, from my hand,
I would release
So you could fall down,
All on your own.
It bemused me that I could see
Three or four paces ahead of thee
Exactly which crack,
Upon which you would trip,
And come crying back to me.
Back-to-me.
That was then.
And now,
Yes, no more,
Back-to-me.
But I always had tissues
to dry your eyes
And no surprise,
I still do,
Always will.
These days, they,
more likely used to dry mine,
As I have forded that Styxy river,
When crossed, you spend more of the day,
Liking Back more,
Then looking ahead.
No matter, by right and tradition,
It is still my mission, that
when you need, when you bleed,
as I know you surely shall,
These pocket tissues will be there
Ready, willing and able, fully capable,
of snatching away your tears.
**When you need,
When you bleed,
And you surely shall,
These pockets of mine,
Of tissue made,
Are waiting for your tears,
And you, to fill them,
For without them,
Their raison d'etre is unfulfilled.**
These used tissues are my history book,
Re the art of loving, and the arch-i-texture of life,
Of tears and hearts,
And concrete spills,
That need knees to be complete.
That is why you will find me, without fail,
Ready, willing and able, holding my
White Badge of Courage at the ready,
Waiting patiently, for my mission to be redeemed,
Missions known as parenting schemes.
The scheme is clear, even if
my tissues you no longer request,
You will let your own babies
fall n' fail, then take their tears
Put them in your pocket,
keep them forever wet,
Like my memories of you
the ones I cherish best...
Perhaps a tradition
We will start,
Unsightly bulges in our pocket rear,
Where we will store our packet of saver-saviors
Removers of our dear one's fears.
If we are truly wise
Those tissued memories
We will keep,
Die among them contented,
Knee-scraped deep
When tears fall...
2008
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 9:09 AM UTC
When the Lord created heaven and earth,
he created men.
They became our four fathers
who had the authority to rule over all that crawled on this earth.
They were told to be fruitful and mutlipy,
and they bore us.
Their dominion passed on to us.
While yet his commandments we abused.
But the Lord said unto us,
no weapon formed against us will prosper.
And every tongue that rised against us in judgement he condemned.
Our sins redeemed by the blood of Jesus Christ of Nazareth,
he left all this as our heritage,
and our righteousness in him we found.
His breath bestowed in us,
his glory seen in us,
he knew in us our mothers' womp,
and in every hand he laid a different heritage.
A heritage of his grace,
his wisdom,
and knowledge.
Sep 24, 2015
Sep 24, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
Fold you up like unwanted fat
cook you into a rocky stew
placed beneath a mantle of ice
far enough away to be misconstrued
You are old laminated time
And pillowed rock of incomprehensible
Earlier than any lime
Or sand, or sediment, or any kind
You are the grandfather rock
of mine
When I step with my inconsequential feet
living but transiently
I cannot help but be erased
that even you hath but one resting place
All the plants
and sands
and ever since the very first
we have always been ******
to this earth
walking upon your bones
I am sorry we cannot do more
but you know your creator
Speak in the same language
in amalgamators
of which we have forgot
and for that I can say
we are envious; are we naught?
Build softly, and carry us upon your thick
crust like pizza dough, cooking
and you let it sit
Let us win, set us up
drift us apart, leave us crushed
build us,
make us,
break us,
fill us
I want to be restored into your
stony belt and be redeemed
I want to become my own atomic fossil
to connect with the universe through long-lost
plotholes
and once again
hear the story
as a young lad
the way it was meant to be told
I want to eat dinner with my grandfather again
my real sweet stony-chiseled cheeked
father again
to be loved a boy
and a girl
and the whole world
a soul touched back into the deep
left unshackled
by a ***** or a queen
please,
take me back soon
rather than let me turn into
Laurentia
or Baltica
or Gondwana
alack
smacked into new rock to form
Urals
and Tetons
and Moher
back
Carbonate or Silicate,
and the end its the same
It won't be the end
for that fate rearranged
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 2:08 AM UTC
**How can you be truly tough
In this painful world?
How can you stand firm
When the spears of agony are hurled?
Most people in the proud US of A
Don't have a clue of the
price they have to pay.
Western people do not know
What hardship really is.
So gratitude is lacking...
It is this...
Gratitude is having a ***
That doesn't leak,
To walk miles for diseased
Water from a creek.
Gratitude in thanking God
For the dry wood
To cook the rice or millet
For your food.
Gratitude is finding
A pair of shoes
In a garbage heap
That you can use.
Gratitude is finding
Pesos in your hand
When you beg the streets
In a poor land.
Gratitude is escaping
Vicious thugs
Who deal in human
Trafficking and drugs.
Gratitude is Hellen Keller
With no hope
Finding Annie Sullivan
To cope.
Gratitude is having NOTHING
And in pain
On one's deathbed, but yet
The fact remains
They are redeemed
And they have Lord Jesus' grace
So they know that they
Will look in his sweet face.
Being tough is seeing life
As is and still not breaking
Being brave and looking
Not forsaking
Being tough is a
Mental attitude.
Loving God and thanking Him
It's GRATITUDE.**
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 5:15 PM UTC
You broke me...
& I allowed it because I so loved the moment before you uttered how I meant nothing. The moment when you could be redeemed.
The moment in which my breathe would catch in my throat.
The moment in which I desperately wanted to be inlove with you again. The moment in which I wanted to delude myself just one more time into believing you might love me.
Believing that you could value me in my human form.
The form in which my exhale became reminiscent of your name.
You were absorbed into the essence of my very being.
You were everything. & now you are nothing.
This is neither good nor bad.
It simply is.
Because you were poisonous and I loved every second of it ; basking in your presence.
I was a wilting flower and oh how your kiss felt so much like rain.
You were incomparably beautiful to me, but beautiful in the destructive sense.
Beautiful like a forest fire.
But you are not a forest fire.
You were the moon- deeply inconsistent.
You could not be redeemed.
Not by your smile or the way my name tasted leaving your lips or by the rare tears you would spill whispering a belated apology.
You were lost to me.
in all your cruelty- completely lost.
Except for when i would stand lonely in a crowded room- your voice sounding like the insecurities in my mind.
In those moments I'd choked back tears and pretended that the ***** was to blame and not you.
I'd Spend the night hurling insults at the stars whose usually beautiful form seemed a grotesque witness to my aching heart.
And then I'd want to hurt you how you hurt me,
scar your soul repeatedly but then I realised you don't have one.
You never did.
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 1:17 PM UTC
It takes me back
It pulls me close
To itself, I cannot leave
ln my dreams
While I dose
The summer scent of mango tree
I remember well
When we were young
My friend and I hung on its arms,
Cuddling the leaves.
Now remain
Just memories, echoes of a simpler past
The flowers promised
June was close
Summer's sins would be redeemed
By the childhood paradise
Salted raw mango slice
Overarching newborn smiles
Yellow sun on green leaves
Greenish-yellow chrysoberyl
Oasis of the summertime
I remember picking them up
From the rooftop of boyhood-life
Our winged friends came, bees, monkeys too
Attempting another bite
Fond, fond memories
Mother used to cut and bring us mangoes
While I tasted the golden slice
My granny told me stories of
The tree, it stood there when they built this house
When she was eight or nine
This fruit, this taste
Connects this land
Magnifera indica
The secular deity of the mango nation
You cannot begin to understand
The gift of Indian summer
My childhood wrapped in emerald leaves
The whiff, the scent, I transcend
Time;go to an age when all was well
Or at the least, to me it seemed
As I'm taking a bite of this season's last mango
As the golden drops stick to my pubescent stache
I remember a conversation I had
The mango tree
It talked to me
No, I'm not crazy
It was the mango tree
Little things in life
Leave something
Oh!so many memories
Mar 28, 2021
Mar 28, 2021 at 5:35 PM UTC
I need to cleanse it, free myself
Of this burden tainted upon
My being. Cinders are drenched on
Flesh
Spirit
Expunge
That which writhes is not burnt away,
So I must eradicate its stench
It violates upon my being
I unburden the pressures so released,
Pyroclastic flows breath exfoliation on my
Soul,
Pealed,
Freed
Of that stench scorched into oblivion
I relish in the torment of those below
Freshly parched earth as lungs burn breath,
"Fallen misery descends in singed flesh"
I release the Feathers weighted down
Haemorrhaging as crimson flows to the
Stems, expanding into the beauty
Of death, I am
Released,
Liberated,
Redeemed
Upon the fallen as I step upon ash
"Bones, death, rebirth"
As no longer afflicted,
I am once again blanched as purest darkness
Is Neither black or grey
"But lucid white"
"As purity is only clean"
"I am purity of darkness"
And the taints of humanity are flakes upon
Silent statues upon the ground, I am malevolent incarnate..
Jan 7, 2015
Jan 7, 2015 at 5:15 PM UTC
I searched for "truth"
I found weakness
Forever doubted theories compromise
To hide their failure through fragile lies
I searched for "justice"
I found corruption
The fairest laws defy morality
And relativity fights equality
I searched for "happiness"
I found the source
Jesus, my almighty savior
I found You in the poor
Help me love my neighbor
The way You love me
To keep this happiness
Flowing inside me
You stand by me
Suture me with Your affection
Understand me
Lead the path to my redemption
Helped me draw
The masterpiece in me
And withdraw
The shackles off me
Somehow, lost within Your stream
I ended up finding "truth"
Personal and general
Strangely irrefutable
The weak you redeemed
Lowered the powerful
Your perfect divine "justice"
Defies my human logic, empirical
yet so vulnerable
~Epic Monkey
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 4:30 PM UTC
The Catholic church
endorsed the world today
for a dollar ninety nine.
-Announcement-
Every iPhone owner!
sinner, saint or stoner!
Come now have your sins forgiven!
forgiven if you spill your guts,
if you just confess,
then watch technology do the rest.
Absolution for you and me!
Send your sins across the sea!
your sins will fly up through the sky
encrypted on waves to reach the almighty,
the Vatican! the Pope!
A man of God appointed by the church
yet is he any different than you and me?
We know he sins the same as us,
the book of Romans says its so,*
and do you really think his tall hat
and flowing dress can make him
any more chosen than us?
Can he really hold back lust?
Will he not eventually turn to dust
Just like the rest of us?
is he really any different than us?
How ironic he receives a royalty from
a symbol of the fallen world,
The Apple
computer company,
payment for our absolution…
...So the world fell
by the fruit of a tree
and now expects to be
redeemed the same way.
The truth is not in a man.
the truth is not in the Apple.
The truth is not in the white smoke rising
from the stacks on Sistine Chapel.
The truth cannot be dried up.
The truth cannot be cured.
the truth is not the Pope's to smoke,
To believe it is absurd.
If you want to know the truth,
the truth is in the blood.
The blood covers everything.
Including what is written here.
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 5:54 AM UTC
Grace
for my independent self feeding off lies and trying to live on my own
Grace
to pull me back to the throne
Grace
because I say what I'm doing is divine,
but the reality is
those plans are all mine
For my glory, for my fame,
but instead He gave up His name
Came to earth and
bore a cross for my shame
Grace
because I know I don't deserve it
Yet
I'm still trying to earn it
Living as an orphan
instead of a child
No longer lost, because for me
He was meek and mild
Lamb of God, slain
On Him all wrath was lain
So I could be free,
grace covers my iniquity
Grace
because I say I am strong
But really, it's His grace
that carries me along
Grace
because all that's left to see
is the cross as I cry,
have mercy on me
Grace because it's free,
and the beauty is I can never earn or deserve it
Grace that has set me free
Grace that says I'm redeemed
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC
GIRL,
Your skin sings tributes to your ancestors
Those that even through noose
Fought for their freedom
Each vein and stretchmark
A tribute to the stripes of each whip
Your smile sings a sweet song
Of him who on the cross ended all struggle
Him who through lovingkindness, draws you in.
Girl, if only you knew, how more than enough you truly are!
Girl
You matter.
Because by the stripes of him that healed
You were made whole
Made anew.
And thus the debate ended,
you matter.
Girl.
Don't succumb to what society asks of you
Be it thick or slim
light as day nor
Dark as night
In Christ you are enough
Girl,
you are icecream on a sunny day
You are tender and brave
Redeemed and free
You are a mother of nations
You are God's beloved
Girl, you are everything.
Sep 12, 2016
Sep 12, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
Like a zygote in a toilet bowl
you flushed me away with a raw and distant shame that must’ve grown in you for two weeks and kept you up at night as a churning of unknown origin, a bloating that weighed you down in that section of the grocery store and made you promise “after one more week” because it was too early to tell even though you were already flushed with that secret, lonely panic when something no one else could detect made you gag and you prayed like a Christian and remained silent like a monk until it finally happened and you were saved, redeemed by the sight of the red little pieces of soul and carnal ritual which were so tender and broken you became whole again and you understood so you flushed me away, and we never spoke of it because only I knew but you must’ve understood the shame because at the first sight of me in August you flushed my red little soul away too.
Sep 27, 2018
Sep 27, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
service failure the ***** will offer
there's something medically askew with it
the usual role is proving so unfit
a second chance in a transplant's proffer
another dies to bring life back again
wellness being redeemed by precious gift
the recipient receives a big lift
living's joy restored out of the rain
someone's kind donation affording breath
so that the period of existence stays
a healthy liver performing its job
for not to have this giving there'd be death
the bestowment allows those future days
gratitude felt within a person's cob
Oct 9, 2016
Oct 9, 2016 at 9:27 PM UTC
27 years incarcerated.
27 years of committing to the same ideas and ideals that shut him off from the world.
Unsurpassed courage and finally unsurpassed Grace.
Forgiving his captors and those who would wish to remove his hope for a brighter future for his people and his country.
The longest and most arduous marathon ever won.
Redeemed at last.
Oppression crumbled by one man's will.
And being humbled by the journey.
As if anyone would've done the same.
Rest quietly 'trouble-maker' for now.
The invitation to return is always open.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 4:30 AM UTC
Beneath the tears
That bleed fools dry
The eye of Ares dwells
Peering into eternal night
The darkest blackest hell
There be found
The wretched bound
Trapped within their dream
Whispers of madness
Within their ears
All shall be redeemed
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 9:37 AM UTC
I faced the demon of lies who lives within my soul
Now there’s no way in hell I’d let your people go
I mortify my love in the fires of your pain
Burning eternally hot, did you spread my fame?
Blood red those evil eyes, sing a wicked lullaby
Relax, don’t cry, there’ll be time to pay when you die
Do you believe in sins redeemed, do you believe in dreams?
Let the sun beat down and shine on us
While we sing and dance, in god we trust
And when it rains which it eventually will
Let’s blame the devil for the rage we feel
Let every man, woman, boy and girl
Find their place in this crazy world
And crazier yet before we die
Let’s take a chance and believe some lies
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 2:41 PM UTC
Let’s stay young forever, and feel the vibe.
Let the passion of youth never be extinguished, even if the sun may dim and the stars decline.
Let the hearts of the youth burn each day. Let us always speak of the morning.
Our hearts vibrate to the rhythm of life and our will, may it be to our Creator.
Let each day bring the morning, and may each morning call no noon.
Let the rays of light be one with our being and let and the essence of old our ways.
Live on, you youth, live on, you redeemed, for the sun itself smiles down on you.
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
I remember you as a dark figure, looming over me.
My repetition of "no" and "stop" was eventually absorbed into the background noise, ignored- As if I was not present to you, only my body.
Something about the way you overpowered me, until I had nothing left,
You stripped away every remnant of my worth.
Lifeless, with a broken heart, was how you left me.
You touched down in the banks of my hollowed soul,
Like an earthquake, shattered me down to my core.
Everything I built myself upon crumbled, and I was 6 feet underneath the rubble.
That was the last of me, the beginning of my end.
I lacked strength to face this reality, hiding from it instead.
Consumed by destructive habits to fill an ever-growing hole in my heart, I lost myself in a spiraling dark hole.
At the bottom of that hole, I with nothing left, surrendered myself to the One capable of healing.
After a long road of war waged on my soul, peace replaced my hopelessness.
The reality I hid from by using destructive habits to fill an ever growing void, I now face with a full heart, lifted on wings of praise by the Lord's grace.
My loss of self value was redeemed by faith. The scars on my heart, now bandaged, serve as a testimony to the power of God's healing.
Where I was once a slave to my grief, I have been liberated. Where my soul was once lost, has been found.
Jan 12, 2018
Jan 12, 2018 at 3:02 PM UTC
Mirror, mirror
Said the queen
Self-conscious,
Not wanting to be seen
Mirror, mirror
Every day
Urging wrinkles
Not to stay
Mirror, mirror
She was taught
If she was ugly
She was naught
Mirror, mirror
She cannot feel
Emotions ruin
Her appeal
Mirror, mirror
She feels dead
To the husband
In her bed
Mirror, mirror
Her heart is failing
Her lungs are gasping
Her kidneys wailing
Mirror, mirror
The doctor said
She has a growth
In her head
Mirror, mirror
She cannot stand
But she's still the most
Beautiful in the land
Mirror, mirror
But not anymore
Her place taken
By the child of a *****
Mirror, mirror
She needs a heart
The child has one
There's a start
Mirror, mirror
She's in so much pain
She doesn't know
How to be humane
Mirror, mirror
The child is dead
The heart is weak
But she has fed
Mirror, mirror
The heart has failed
There is no other
That ship has sailed
Mirror, mirror
She is desperate to live
She finds a corrupt magicker
And gives all she can give
Mirror, mirror
She feeds on death
Each soul she takes
Lies in every breath
Mirror, mirror
She carves words in her skin
EVIL, VAMPYR
DEMON, SIN
Mirror, mirror
She moans in the night
Her husband sleeps in a separate bed
Yet still quakes in fright
Mirror, mirror
The child is not dead
All the lives she has taken
When she could have taken one instead
Mirror, mirror
Look at her now
Twisted and broken
Macabre magick on her brow
Mirror, mirror
The child must pay
Perhaps her soul will be redeemed
It is the only way
Aug 20, 2015
Aug 20, 2015 at 12:40 PM UTC
For a thousand years, I've found myself in these dark alleys, searching for a light, on the pathway to perdition,Waiting for someone to come along and wake me up from this nightmare.
For a thousand years, I'm the boy that I'm not, I've become the sophisticated mask that I'm wearing which conceals all my loneliness and agony.
For a thousand years, I've felt this burden residing in my chest, the heaviness of my heart, and the profound weight on my shoulders.
For a thousand years, I've been looking to be redeemed, to be salvaged, and to find a way to liberate myself from the curse of insecurity and desolation.
For a thousand years, I've been weary and cold, longing for love, wanting to be understood, and yearning to go home.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 7:55 AM UTC
In the stillness of the night beyond one can see,
When the expanse holds the stars for my mid-summer’s dreams,
Where only the presence of the birds of the night calms my spirit
And in such stillness fear preys my soul.
I could only find my wellspring of life quenched to aridness,
And only as a mirage such life exists in my being.
I find my thoughts confined in my deeds of shame or rather
Those that the enemy claims, and so
I find my cries being droplets that befriend my cheeks,
To cease and move on is as building a home as a house of sticks.
For in this journey of mine, the storms rage and roar and in such stillness
I only could hear them call-in thy gentle whispers they are as frequent
As the leaves that drop from a tree in fall.
In the stillness of the night- whom do I call?, when all lifelines
Seem to be on hold.
“Hello it is me speaking-do you recognise, Please be patient, please Hold”.
My mind is in ruins; behind cages for life in the desert has no patience.
Only it persists to feed on my soul and lives on my very last breath-
It is to my wonder that life is not the breath and the heartbeat,
For they continue to live even when life is gone.
I look up to the hill for whence my help cometh from,
Such knowledge is as vast as the sky, when only sand dunes are before my eyes.
However, I look up to the hill from whence my help cometh from,
For in such a hill rest my soul and life that has been redeemed.
Rest the life that is orchestrated and moulded into a perfect ornament.
In such a hill, rest a life that is of harmony, that is of melody ,
that the angels stride before because of its music.
In the stillness of the night, when the stars are shining and the moon
Is half asleep. When the flow in rivers walks in silence and only the insects sing.
I now find my thoughts confided in you saviour,
Even in the valley, the arid deserts and the stormy seas.
I find that you are my source of being-even far beyond what I can see.
Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 8:29 PM UTC