Ignorances innate wove curtain of veils
Cut usunder heretofore obscuring
Bodhicittas valedictory wintry gloom torn
Of enlightenments will factioning the
Silenced mammonish city kingdom truced
As the wings of Azrael clinch
Earthly thistles; monolithic raiments
Deposed Hull, Hell and Halifax parcae
The willowing of light unfettering Fenrirs
Durance, howling aconite psalms suspiring
Suffrage relict paving with mewed stars
Redemptions tithed talents bequeathed
Of Heavens sinister prayer burning
Acinta dusts thine ashes threading
The wilful sword of Gods destruction.


ELEETE J MUIR.

I do love
But it ain't quite
like the Discovery Channel!!!

I want so much more than
the collective desire of Park Avenues

I believe like,

With exactly no doubt
like zero are the hours
which can never count
upon the seamlessness
of my perceptions

I do but I don't
I am and therefor not

I talk in mirrored tongues
I observe in uncanny detail

Micro and macro all a flow
overly ever rushing torrents
moving galaxies about

Pouring in
more rushes out

You can picture it
over the mighty edges of
and rushing to, fro and about
every swirling an obstacle stout

Though such knows not
one another in such ways
inseparable upon one journey

As She manifests from her he, Self
He's giving for he gets the She of,

An ever persuasive passionate,

Play... .. .

Greater than the dreams

We know of love yet
Shy to conceive

They, their passion
.........
  .....
   ...
    "
    '
We inwardly receive

Those torrential lovers
pourings do spillover
and on and over
and rush upwards
ah ever more easily!!!

Vast sensualities
******* rhythms
of this a, Our universe
in micro exotic intoxicating
allure, irresistibly entwining
the smallest tastes and teases
of songbirds loving symphonies

As butterfly and a bee in the ever
sweet scents of psychedelic sighting
wavings in ever inviting ever ripening
ever flows of heavens manna sweets, but
sours the way short where some say sinners
ought never see or be, though such is silliness see,

For such shy glimpses of what is less than momentary
which is not countable, when our greatnesses will carry on
beyond our redemptions of what only we shall see clearly so
simply, one day twas the dark night of a soul, here blasphemed
about the sacredness of all ever evident being so close found fondly,

Sweetly, though lost in those ever aching wishes of our journeying together

Would death be ****** abandonment at all a freaky thing unconceived
dark night of the great light conceived viewed in our ever grace and beauty
but she lets you feel her he's and all the glory, all the glory an unrealized being
in all our collectiveness has not yet seen but in the depths of where it's consider dark
for simple decisions we all have and must have made to function here, there

and at all,
at once...

No time, no space, no EMC squared's
yet in Newtonian fashion the soul spirit remains
carries on in infinite motion and motions of our choosings
and for better and worse we do all about the same for we
were never thrilled about all the separation we discovered
in reluctance and or in blessed joys of great companies
of loving hearts, eyes, ears, arms with tender loving
caring hands of nurture enough twas enough for
you are still here now and those who have not
have forgiven all other misguidance eagerly
when it is easily found tis only our own
choice to be and set free freely

And I can want any petty desire too
and put myself up for adoption to,

The petting zoo
and you...

For hell yeah I want to be here
all the way and with you
my wayfarers

I Do...

do do dee da da
oo la la and ma mama

childs all of such grace
we oft just call gods

And greater love seen
dispensed philosophically
by self proclaimed atheism's

Denialism can rather be the truth
of atheism, self pitying so deeply
resenting the here now for some
overly wishful thinkings and
of mournful emotionalism's
about the 'it just ain't fairs'

Beware they will take you
to their wheres, wearing
their wares of self hate
while glossfully
painting in
glitterings
of fools
gold

Feign not thou
we are co conspirators
already decidedly agreed
agreeably dancing on the sharp
end of one pointed pin, hand holding

But remember if we were ever shaken
off of binding bonds ever closefully as
the chasms of divergences really are

We still ever dance ever lightly on
the everly fine poignancy of pin

And the illusion of being
garden casted for some
shamefully blameful
denials of the snakes
sly fashion to even
ones need of feed

And or wither from
the long and short
of journey with
the ever's of

here now...

Paradise
Perfectly

Paradoxically

In our
every
way

So I am
in great hunger
greater thirst firstly

For the one great illusion
desert stricken for not seeing
the forest of paradise for every
tree and every grace of all possibility

Without such would come from impossibility*

Once Again...

i detoxed myself under this pale sun
     (you stood by and watched the
      unfolding saga all the while
      questioning the meaning of zen)

the original concept was lost
somewhere along the way
when i dropped the ball
on the forty yard line
     (can you recover your own fumbles?)

every time i stand by,
the waiting is eternal
and i become engrossed
in the uselessness of my position,
pondering
     (my love for this is a game of solitaire)

i am the ultimate in
irrational action,
a demagogue of dark
pathways and religious
zealotry, trapped beneath
glass floors watching,
trying desperately to
cannibalize my fingers.

i have smoked your toenails
and wandered away listless
at comments unbecoming
and salivated on the fires
set to displace my vessels
     (i have seen you ignoring me)

in the coming months i will
rend my eyes and pierce
my skull artificially
so you will be able
to see into my soul and
destroy me more efficiently
     (you will know me by the number of the dead)

i will search deep and
long inside this shadow's
shell, extracting this cancer
so i can cook up my
shortcomings and inject
them into a Ken doll
because then at least
i will be pretty.

i will feed my
chilled oatmeal to a
Cantonese family
that will honor me
as the ***** poo-flinger
i am for you.

i will cease to exist
on a plane with your
type, sinking lower
on scale like a rock in
the Mississippi River.

Mom, when i stop
growing up, i will
be the ****** loser
everyone always
thought i would
     (aren't you proud?)
     (isn't he cute?)

i cannot imagine
surviving your intern camp
after the tattooing of arms,
we will eat the testicles of the
fallen gods and dispense
great suffering on the weak
because of our enlightened
prospects and redemptions
     (what do you know about pain?)

i will place my severed head
in a place of prominence, likely
in your bed, right before
i cease to breathe

my eyelids weaken....
flicker, flutter....

i grow tired with the
advent of your indecision,
the totality of abandonment
the lenses fog, fade...
flicker, flutter...

i have run out of things to sacrifice

The Tingling
Pulsing
Throbbing sensation.
The thought
Of your sweet slow
*******.
The approval to claim your
Deepest Redemptions
Your Temptations
Delivering me
Blissful Salvation.
Belly button deep
Seeking for keeps
Your palms grip my hips,
My hips switch
Like a gypsy.
You bewitch me.
Twitching
Writhing
Spell-bound  beneath me.
You beseech me.
Eyeballs rolling back into their rightful sockets
If you can pry the clasps open ill give you the key to the locket
Like Future said,
Ill put your heart in my pocket.
Soaring inside me to destinations reached only by rockets.
Fingers tantalizing hard *******,
Love fluid gushing with rip tide strength ripples.
Mary Jane modeling between my fingers,
Idoling bliss towards the tips,
My fingers seek a settling seat upon the floor of your luscious lips
-Lust at your own risk
Inhale the kush
Push me to the depths of my mattress
Submerge me beyond the sheets,
Beyond the springs underneath,
Beyond the heights of my wildest dreams
Make me shy, make me fly
Provide me your name so I can surrender and scream.

You sit on the holy hollow thrown in my body.
Calling for salvation, claiming camaraderie

The internal tick I tend to mend,
sits on my chest, sinks into my irises.

A sip, a snort, a huff whisper safe promises.

You are the thumb I **** singing lullabies to sleeping peace,
the knife I carry down dark streets.

You are the doctor I call when I break my arm,
the scarf I wear in winter storms.

But too,

You are the *** hole in main streets,
and a broken belt in the drivers seat,
the sour milk in my fridge when I make English tea.
You've put salt in my sugar.

You are the feet that fall asleep in a moment of danger.

You are a beautiful thought waiting to unfold on black paper.

You sit on the holy hollow thrown in my body.
Commanding toxic tensions, comforting ill redemptions.

But

The kingdom we live in is drinking resilience,
mind stepping back into its brilliance.

You still sit on the holy thrown in my body.
But I too fight for survival
and you still dable with devils.

But the battles I face are no longer hollow,
and sometimes I miss the comfort of denial.

Whispers questioning foreigners
Building tension from table across
Take a knife and dissect differences
The eyes light, oestrogen unequalises

Taunting demons flirting and damning
Why do you need to case in boxes?
Daunted, a downwards destruction
Demolitions makes the peace go away

Maps are just a physical division of space
A worth that float and boasts territories
How can we ever make this go away?
Barbaric conceptions, traumatic redemptions

The discernment pleading patriotism
Humanity claiming one consciouness
Nationality embodied in bordered lines
A  contradictory label leading to disunion

flight
flowing
elderberries
and the
syrup of rebellion

see
sails
snail-pace
along the highway
man's
view
finder

and pointing

shouting

the breath of the ever present
nature
fumed
scent

age appropriate
apocalypses
redemptions
conclusions

painted vividly stroked

it's late!

too late!

foe fry
fun


and i sailed

in the view finder
in the fumed
scent
in the anxious awaiting
calls
not sure whether to find you

hello.
i wish.
i wonder.

are you really that surprised?

he don't talk much now that his spirit been broke
a man of few words that lost the joy a smile evokes
he don't speak of the good times anymore
feeling all the money in his pockets has left him poor
he don't raise his head much when he writes
ignoring the lovers and families around him tonight
he just pushes that pen looking for solutions and answers
scared of every lonely day coming like a slow cancer
he hates the eyes staring back in the mirror's glare
he hates the ways he sees that they use to care
and prayer don't work 'cause no one ever whispers back
he's a slow, trudging train on the endless track
of regret pushing and shoving for redemptions
feeling love all around him and his own lowly exemption
and he'll chat with you if you ask
but the words and stories you'll hear are just a mask
secretly he holds hands with a little boy
who's not coming back to be his favorite dandy toy
he's still holding his hand and only looking back
surviving each of his heart's attacks
with the bottle, with a guise, using memories to patch the cracks
and peace is all he asks

how I pray for him to find a healing, completely
dear God, how I wish he wasn't me

Life comes in increments of sixteen weeks where each week she composes list after list.
Wastes away inside with textbooks and tests instead of spending the day in the sunshine.
Her mind wanders, up and away, into her dreams where she lives a different sort of life.
As others are falling into soft slumber in the night’s silence she is kept awake by thoughts
that make her weary of war and weather both. She prays nightly for dear Mother Earth
to take her people and bring them alive with singing in the streets in the dead of night

and to rock them to sleep with sweet lullabies as stars step away and day breaks night.
The girl looks at this life of hers and after some time in deep thought composes another list
to keep organized and to help her find a steady place to plant her feet on this big, big earth.
As she struggles each day with textbooks and tests and longs for the warmth of sunshine
work, school and a sad excuse for a social circle overwhelm her mind, spirit and thoughts.
Each day her mind grows heavier and she continues to wish for a different kind of life.

Somewhere where the sunset lasts a little bit longer. A sort of sweeter, simple life
where the streets are filled with the sound of music all day and through into the night
and where children can be children longer so that when they come upon the thoughts
that fill the heads of adults they won’t do as the woman living in a child’s world has and list
ways to escape to a place where she can do the dreamer’s dance and live in the sunshine
on the streets where music fills the air and smiling faces take up all the space on earth.

She desires to recycle her trash and plant trees in the salty spring air that occupies her earth
and to better herself, the lists say so, because there has to more than what’s seen in this life
that comes in sixteen week intervals filled with textbooks and tests. It seems the sunshine
would do all of us some good. Maybe the moon will allow her time to dance away the night
but it isn’t meant to be tonight. The halfway point shows eight weeks crossed off using lists
and eight more until she can run into the sunshine and not be consumed by her thoughts

because she’s no great philosopher. She would rather spend time in play than in thought.
Nobody wants to be lost in thought when they’ve yet to explore this mighty, mighty earth
with her blasted basalts, blue skies, and bubblegum scented paper on which she makes lists
after which the businessmen will be able to continue on with their polished, plush lives
in this white world where all that matters is green. But she, she’d rather dance the night
away where there’s music in the air and people walk the streets with pockets of sunshine.

In a land where there are no bad days and everyone carries a pocket full of sunshine
Is where she wants to exist. Trapped in a world where she escapes into her thoughts
Because nobody knows how silent and still the streets become when day turns to night
How many children go hungry and how many people don’t know their place on this earth
They want another chance at redemptions, a new beginning in a place to start a new life
And yet when everything else is over, she finds herself with nothing but crossed off lists

Here she stands at a crossroads left with nothing, only her beloved lists
She’ll have to tear a new path and find herself in this life
So she can make it to where they sing in the streets and dance away the night

There are ridiculously fragile moments
in the midst of the night
Where the ridicules and redemptions
of a previous life
Replay and reset
But they left their manners at home
and refuse to forgive or forget

California dreaming
In the naked cold
Frozen all around me
Lay the deadened odes

Songs of past redemptions
I may never see
Bring me to the ocean
Bring me to the sea

Somewhere far from darkness
Rests the peaceful heart
Find the yearning slumber
To pull you far apart.

Drip, Drop, Drip

It's already at her hip.
The lies she told to get by
It is from those she can no longer hide.

Is it from Guilt? Sadness? Anger?
                            Or from the escalator of lies?
                                                 She no longer remembers.

                                                     ­                                           Drop, Drip, Drop

                                                           ­                   It has finally reached her top.
                                                            ­           She as missed redemptions mark.
                                                           ­                       The ball is out of the park.

                                         She drowned.
     She couldn't swim back up

                                                           SO

                               With a heavy heart, she chose to keep it shut
Then...
               all her lies gobbled her up.

LOSS
The violent waters hitting against my fragile face become bullets that punch holes through me.
I struggle to breath; as gravity deserts me because weakness left me hanging.
I look up to the heavens, I ask this god! I question the universe…..
Why me?  In this center stage I cry out! I scream! Can you hear me, Loss?
The echoes of my own voice paralyze me, left unanswered like so many of my silent yet loud prayers.
I dream of a dream where I stare down death everyday yet never befriend it.
I am a man who is running against time, hoping and wishing for the impossible. Am I sane?
I knocked on redemptions door as the heavens renounced my own mere existence.
Pain dug itself a grave and held a funeral for itself after it met “my pain”
It was a day to remember as I saw on death’s face a feeling of remorse.
Death felt pity for me; he did regret his selfless decisions of taking those I love.
Yet again I dare to use this word that I know nothing of! “LOVE”
I yearn to see a friendly face in the empty crowd; I wish to see the invisible.
I try to mirror my own horrid voice and compulsive acts
My own tears are no longer a defense against my own defense
Life slips through my fingers swiftly though as if it was water passing through
I look down on this grave and I see, I witness what life robbed me of!
All these people talk about is a land of milk and honey; does it exist?
If it does, could I departure any sooner?
I try to see the rainbow beyond this darkness… I try to witness hope.
Loss has me tied down; in its deathly grip I wriggle under death itself.
Loss has given me deathly blows that the devil never gave me.
Loss is a fiend , a master of pain beyond pain
Loss I beseech thee, keep away from my circle
Loss, in this deathly platform, I forgo myself for the “others”
Loss in this dais I am a loss to you.

people used to be at home officially,

provide invitations, wait for teas,

the convenient cake.



in another world, i am at home,

invitation revoked,

no need for refreshment. then.



yet the friends shall come, needing no formal,

notifications or redemptions.


it will be a pleasant day, as the hills

go down, many tremblous things

abound.


while all the while you stay quiet,

boxed, fading into your own silence.


i left the note by the clock, the calling card.

sbm.

In the traffic of God's ocean
Commanded by the undertow
Enveloped in colors previously unknown
Working the bottom as if tethered to land ,
awaiting redemptions sure hand* .....

"Pass me to the light of day, Son."

In last moments of this life, with all farewells, salutations and redemptions resolved...

I would tell my son, look for me in dawn... I have told god, let me live the next lifetime as dawn, 24 hours... I want to see and touch it all...

We need to stop making

assumptions or
Can we be saved from
redemptions

To me, this is not a

Shakespearean

Love play reaction

Impeccability

Or love liability

◊ ♥ ♥


Self-love to love yourself

Interaction caught you in

the deepest thoughts

All by myself

Come forth the temptation

What becomes more
tempted

Fifth heart operated
Five doctors
Opened up someones
Good heart Bill Gated


Computer the chosen one
Pressed her five keys like the
Kingdom
come

How  God really

knows what every heart shows
he loves you


One agreement never

thoroughly thought
5 times the Sentinel
stars
She held her words bright


"I Am"

Two of the most powerful

words with love

Confinement

Promises five wishes lift

Please respect it as a gift

But what is really behind the

words bowling(Pin)interest
5 strikes you out


Let's say goodbye to sadness

Show gratitude

Your spirit opens to gladness

Respect is the one greatest

Accomplishment such kindness

Show who you are

the glow of appearance

And pardon me if you refuse

to eat "Emotionally"
Personally so caught up

With someone else's five
sweet and low packs
of poison

Looking for love but we really

don't know love give me five

reasons why?

Be immune to the other

people opinion


(Gamesmanship)

(Ladyfanlytrip)

Life was simpler
with giggles

Now all you see is
War of roses

How it blooms into
the hell of

Five lives of
Rifles

Are you being clearly unheard
Jaybirds Robin redbreast
Flamingo pink seagulls hawks
could really talk
take me away
To think

I forgot some
nostalgia__
My mind erased like
Insomnia

To buy love the Gal of the

Galleria

Were you the pep me up

Pepsi Topsy tipsy
Kentucky derby

The next level spiritual


Rules of the Rumi ®
Take me like a poem

She moved right through me
So peaceful and calm

Her Mona Lisa fifth
the painting she needs
to smile

Her five fingers took
a palm reading

The ½ of her heart needed

mending love
5 top ingredients
So well commended

The five agreements
Recommended

Something like you

never seen

On the news
Fox five
Box ageless five
Sox Dr. Suess
I will take the fifth
No loss



That ***** of light
Jekyll dark lamp post

His incoming headlights
Seeing a ghost

He saved your salvation

Oh! Lord what could I afford

The soul of silence

Going downward

But really "What's up?

Got changed to onward

Your divorced finger cup

Dark coffee with the
eerie glow
Showstopper
Wine corker
Fifth floor
Only one lover

No tootsie roll lost
the soul

Feeling like the
Rookie

All the chips were
out 5 morsels

Love of baked cookies
Love portal

Reaching Twenty five
No morals

So solid in your ways

Always on the fifth days

of the month

He was the bouncer

What an influencer

Healthy sipping your

Organic

With vitality but lonely

inside like a vegetation

So ironic

More energy veggie juicer

You felt "ET" or

Glazing in the grass

The E-book
embracer

the weight coming
off

Personel trainer he was

Slim Fast five times
reducer

24/7 Even Steven
reminder

Hearing the fifth symphony

You need the hubby

Hello Poetry
For God's sake,
we keep

Veterinarian take me
not him he went to sleep
The Veep

The Parrot palm tree
Designer 5 pairs of shoes
Shopping Bell Towers spree


Talking over like a
voice over the game
is over

The snowbirds

Floridian

Those spreadsheets

Spreading heat and waves

of love what's above

Love-Love-Love

Picking up on the fifth ring

Knowing its always him

on the I phone those
cultured

pearls shined for him


Filling in the gaps

That was a different swing

But we will make up the time

The Beatle beats I want to hold

your hand around the Garden of

Eve last love to bend

Your gifted heart to send

With no attachments
enclosed with

installments


Midsummer dream no manic

to this planet

Rumi spiritual existence

♥


My four agreements

To Love

To Honor

To give

To rightfully be happy
to live

It seems like I had just woke up from a yond
Then remembering walking on a spring day captivated by a pond
Yet time was steadily moving on
Several events took place during 2014
Let’s see and explore
Several Black youth that had been killed
The world is reacting still
GOP now have the house and the Senate
I hate to say but we are in it
The White House was invaded in several situations with intruder’s who had guns on the White House yard
Yet Secret Service didn’t do their job right, and however they did get far
Winter paid an early visit
Weather conditions apply
Now comes the oh my
2014 which is coming to an end
2015 will soon begin
A world is thinking perhaps and possible suppose
While others are ponding on those
Prosperous engraved like a mount
The years past that we can count
Thanks for the experience
2015 will endure endurance
But rest assured
We continued to have life in applause
We must think on new challenges in achieve
Looking to God’s mercy in receive
We must conquer our own redemptions
We must see the right and expel the wrong
Yet we must all remain strong
God’s grace is where we all belong
Let there be peace within our troubled hearts
Let the image be more than reflection in the mark
I pray for a world that will come together in unity
This means around world into every community
Races upon Races uniting as one
End of story and I am done.

Tapping into redemptions dream,
  I put my smaller dream aside

And reveled in its greater power,
—reclaiming truth from lies

So blessed in this light ablaze,
  than by candlelight unknown

In thanks I kindle warm again,
—recharged, with heart aglow

(Villanova Pennsylvania: December, 2016)

Where the fighting is over
Where we're safe
And the sun is shining again
Where we have another chance at life
The place something new can happen
The birth of something great, in tomorrow
So is it tomorrow
I've been waiting
I been praying
Hoping for tomorrow
Where there's freedom
Where's there's hope
Positives
Redemptions
Lessons learned, new ppl, new love
Remembrance of this day
But relief that it's tomorrow
So is it
Is it tomorrow
Don't lie and say it is
Tell me the truth I can take it
If it's not I'll fight to it and wait
For that tomorrow
It'll come

I am he that needs redemption—
Does the Earth know exemption?
A boy and his pen I dream of books.
A boy and his pen I dream of quasar.

Now redemptions on your mind when you think about me.

By the beach
Stars out of reach
They thought the silence is a pain
But the winds are talking
Nothing to lose, something to gain
So they're no longer hiding

Tongues tied
Words died
They were the two lost souls
That confessed their emotions
And their hearts with holes
Are filled with redemptions

Everything is poetry and  poetry is everything.
I~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~l

Everything is poetry and poetry is everything.
Variegated and multicoloured rich rhyming
Every line a rich tapestry of finest work.
Rhyming refulgent words brilliantly shining
Y-chromosomes with male characteristics
The male poems less feminine than the female
How do you tell the gender of a rampant poem
In everything is poetry and poetry is everything
Naughty poems are food and drink to youths
God fearing Catholic Poems are ubiquitous

In praise of God these poems are school fed.
Sunday schools singing their hearts in praise.

Prayers set to the music of the mighty *****.
Oh the Victorian poets were the masters of it.
Everything is poetry and poetry is everything .
The modern poets have lost the art of praise
Redemptions are hard achieved in gods name
Yet more poetry written on a toilet wall.

As six mumf ago they cuddent even spel poet
Now by Jove they are one. Hallelujah.
Desuetude books of self published remainders

Poetry being all things n all things being poetry
Osmosis of a dilution of simple talent lost.
Epistemological studies of poetic knowledge
******* in blue ribbons in chronological order
Rarely seeing the light of day on a dusty shelf
Years on a collection of dead poets published

In everything is poetry and poetry is everything
Sagas of eponymous hero’s before a nation

Escalading castle walls to rescue fair maidens
Vexatious poetry going nowhere but hanging
Every stanza a cliff-hanging story of old.
Refineries built to recycle old poems for new
You know everything is poetry as I have stated
There is not so much on web-sites ever seen
Hundreds of poems viewed n little critique
It gets brushed over with a simple thumbs up
Now next time you wonder ...Can I inspire. ?
Gainsay with gusto the death of the verse.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 16th 2018.

He introduced time and space
He spoke and everything answered
He decided and so they did
A perfect mirror designed from clay

he named and titles were formed
he ruled and all accepted their governor
he stood right in His eyes daily
Desiring talks with the highest counsellor

It sank beneath its purpose
It soiled the perfect design
It ripped the bridge of true union
Slithering through life and time

He  clocked in, removing His royal robe
He lived, taught and slept until suns confirmed
He fought, won and paid the cost of war
Redemptions' price, His blood is the demand

Today myth ignores His name
Are not truth and He both the same?
Volunteered slaves despise and reject His grace
The Sun sat west with tears on His face.