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Becca Lansman Jul 2018
My body and mind are at war
two beings occupying the same skin

the diverged desire firing bullets into the heart
creating a cacophony of chaos within me

One--
******* the jar of peanut butter
hidden by the blanket of dark sky
hugging the fridge like a newborn
caressing the chocolate bar wrapper

Two--
crouched over
crying in the shower
pinching my skin until bright pink, hot
with anger

trying to resurrect myself into someone more holy
trying to starve
out the monster within

only to find myself back on the bathroom tile singing gospel songs into the toilet bowl.

a cyclical strom
that will not stop raging

like a perverted lover
always, somehow
dragging you back home.
There's too much of this city in me,
Too many memories, and
too many faces
that don't remember me.
Someone wanted my body, and it
made me remember how much I wanted to die.
It made me ask who would ever put their heart
in the hands of this bearded villain.
The struggle to be human
killed my ambition.
Suresh Gupta Apr 2019
resurrect

04/21/2019



flawed in our learning

flawed in what we became

flawed in our indoctrination

into the human race



many have tried to implore  

so our living body will behave

in spite of that, warn us

so our soul won't go to waste



we heeded not their sacrifice

and "gluttony" became our motto

even when we call for mercy

it's not to mend our ways



self interest is our only aim

feeling proud of ill begotten gains

unwilling to accept the blame

commit heinous crimes in HIS name



as our number keeps on growing

more entrenched we have become

fringes of extremes are emboldened

crown of insanity is being woven



we await HIS resurrection

to take care of HIS creation

unwilling to realize that, firstly,

it's ourselves, we need to

RESURRECT







LET THE SAVIOR REST IN PEACE
Gluttony" is used to express excessive desire for
Joni Sep 2018
To be a poet is the end goal you achieved it
What did I acheive?
You reincarnated me,
not as a animal or a human.
Not even a life form for that matter,
But you put me in a sonnet in a cluster of words.
I’m not religious as such but
my god poets can resurrect.

Feeling in a simple rhythm
The physicality of it is uncanny
Words that I wish would slip past my tongue.
My god poets can resurrect.

What pleasure is must be to bloom so sweetly.
Does the words come quickly?
Once I find my hand,fingers and knuckles.
Pen to paper, finger to lips would it come naturally?
We will see if I can bring air back into lungs deflated by time.
May I stumble to present my work.
Or hold my tongue as they look at the beginning.
My god poets can resurrect.

Must I find sense of place?
Drip a cigarette between my fingers
Papered apartment full of hero’s of song,who now quite as you write the new.
Ability coming naturally you insisted.
Do I not need a Parisan perspective.
Or do I need ordinary to flourish private extraordinary.
My god poets,poets...can
The poem is about a person wanting to be a poet and wondering if they should be like some of the great poets or just be themselves
King Panda Mar 2016
my dear Cosette,
why did you fall?
why didn’t you pick
yourself back up?

I saw you
on the battle lines
red shemagh
tied about your neck
I saw the bayonet
pierce your
breast
to match your
red
your man’s
clothes

why do we
disguise ourselves,
Cosette?
why don’t women
make history?
why can’t a woman
take a bullet?

my dear Cosette,
we fall
on words
on chisels
on the battle lines
sometimes we don’t
get back up
sometimes we die
before we are dead

my dear Cosette,
I watched you
bleed
I heard you
scream blue
******
you were my sister
and I was the sculptor
to capture
the peace of death
on your face

my dear Cosette,
I watched you die
now rise
to the battle lines
rise
with your head high
let me resurrect you
with my hands
Nat Lipstadt Oct 2013
October 2013

for Maria and Logan...

you need two hands, one foot.
count my years.
each finger, worth a decade.
each toe, well, a century...

birthdays.

point of inflection,
point of opportunity,
presents itself,
to rewrite history.

a second coat of paint,
gift-wrapped in weak excuses.
how I lied, how I ain't,
grimm-fated fairy tales
somebody created.

invisible suits of gold-cloth
worn to my party of
past rewrit and
future foretold.

one single thought,
memory,
seizes my heart,
as I fall to my knees.
cracks my temperate ease,
renders open the
woof and weave
of recycled deceptions,
causing all to be revealed
and ask,

what if the poetry ceases?

you know prostrate?
you taste grief?

have you not but
one pain,
one act,
one deed,
one memorization,
act of cowardice,
act of desertion,
mistake maden, taken,
for which
forgiveness
can never
be given,
be taken,
attained?

do, does, did.

let me then
win the birthday lottery,
let floods of relief from
daily chores, not drown me,
chauffeurs to drive,
masseurs to massage,
cooks to cook,
les delicious treats,
keep theologians, logicians
on retainer, if need
explanations.

none know, can provide,
still and yet, a
priestly sacred chord,
grants relief,
absolution,
song of hallelujah
the ache of
perpetuity worry,
that ancient pain,
grows fresher daily,
the loss of one,
of my body,
my primal knot
unreasonable,
everything should be
permitted to be untied,
on my birthday, no?

this day, these days
breathe through words,
molecules of vowels,
stem cells of consonants,
the fabric, the tissues of life,
veins are a dictionary
of corpuscles,
red blood cells are
nouns of nutrients.

this day, these days,
the infection of my soul
is tempered, kept at bay,
tamped down from the
full flowering
of white blood cells
of rhyme, verse.

what if the poetry ceases?

Though the bones creak,
the body they carry. resurrect
for morning, afternoon
and evening prayers.

thrice daily poetry I recite,
roses red, violets blue,
my marrow transfused.

though my prayers refused,
the poetry act immolates
the fringes of my disease,
for which the common cure
is not currently invented....

what if the poetry ceases?

but be assured, told
scientists hard at work,
on the
forgive n' forget drug.

meantime,
take a bubble bath in
rosemary and mint
trap some words,
tap some words into
your cell phone bone,
the poetry heat that
provides aspirin relief.

through this poem,
on one day annual,
I am relieved, relived
the muse is feted, sated,

gone for few moments
concerns, worries of
exposure today,
agnostic's foxhole of hell
is dis-remembered,
the gloss returns,
the faux dispatched,

ain't birthdays grand?

what if the poetry ceases?

what rhymes with
Sorrow?
mmmmm,
could it be
Morrow?

bath drains, rosemary and mint
odors dismissed, the  Argentine disparu,
the Spanish Medievalists,
the Neo-Raphaelites,
all gone,
didn't they have birthdays too?

didn't know
the Renaissance come
and go,
and nobody
tole ya?

please recall t'is the day
after my sweet city recorded my
naissance in the
Hospital of the Flowers
on Fifth Avenue.

the 'crats put the datum
in the bureau with the
night creams and
the statistics
as follows:

on this day + a few,
six or twenty decades ago +
a few centuries,
a question was born,
and an ache that is
sometimes relieved,
by a poem song.

though do not celebrate,
t'is a day to calibrate,
review, edit, tinker,
rewrite, often a stinker.

always one thought recycles:

what if the poetry ceases?

(how will I breathe?)
Notes: my birthday was a few weeks ago. One of a number poems I've written about birthdays.  This one was modified, but only slightly for Maria and Logan.
Benji James Jul 2018
Benji...this is your conscience speaking...

"You'll never be good enough for her,
Who are you kidding?
You aren't attractive enough,
To obtain her love.
What are you thinking boy...?
Why are you trying to destroy
everything left inside yourself.
Do you want to be addicted to this drug?
Better stop praying to the sky above...
Get back up Benji, move a little faster
or this storm is going to catch up with ya.
I know you don't give a f**k,
But you better start
Or you'll end up back in that slump
and this time...I'm not sure you'll get back up
And pull yourself back out of that dump."

Resurrect everything inside of my soul
Reignite that light, that once shined
Bring me back
So I can fight, let me find
That parts of me that I lost
in the dark
Give me the spark
to restore life to my heart

Just can't seem to get a grip
People all around me
Are gritting their teeth
Waiting for my next slip
Trying to anticipate my next trip
That just ain't cool...
Why don't you worry about yourself?
I don't need your help.
I've dealt with everything else on my own
People catch me in public
speaking to myself
I'm just talking to the inner me
trying to work out my inner being
Haven't you ever been confused?
Feeling self-accused, hurt and bruised.

Resurrect everything inside of my soul
Reignite that light, that once shined
Bring me back
So I can fight, let me find
That parts of me that I lost
in the dark
Give me the spark
to restore life to my heart

"Benji look at you now...
You crashed yourself into the ground
You tried to rebound
Back from the darkness of life
You just drowned in the blackness inside
You are losing parts of yourself
Every time you're inflicted with pain
Your soul melts
You die a little more inside
You're trying to ride this tide
But you keep running out of time
So you better decide
If you're willing to climb
This jagged cliff edge
One last time."

Resurrect everything inside of my soul
Reignite that light, that once shined
Bring me back
So I can fight, let me find
That parts of me that I lost
in the dark
Give me the spark
to restore life to my heart

©2018 Written By Benji James

You have brought back these feelings
Resurfaced those fears
Of the fire inside
that had so many tears
A weak flame that was dying
Alive once again
Has now muddied the line
between lover and friend

That's how it goes for me
I don't know about you
The words passing might be
in that moment were true
They kept traveling on
Possibly a comet
As my feelings grow strong
Expectations not met

Once again feel a fool
Even though it's not true
And my heart gave to you
Time again I will do
But this time not the same
It's because you weren't here
Could not reach out and touch
So our bodies weren't shared

Just the words that were said
And the sound of your voice
Resurrect from the dead
Could not stop; Had no choice
Seems like that's how it is
In your lasso I'm snared
All it takes is one tug
And again I will care

Pilot light to a stove
A slight twist and it strikes
You've invaded my heart
Bursting flame will ignite
But if carelessly handled
It's me who gets burned
Walked all over and trampled
Same dolt who won't learn

I have built up the walls
But we're both trapped inside
The tight space is so small
There's nowhere I can hide

Face-to-face with you now
It begins and it ends
I'll get through it somehow
Are we lovers or friends?
Written: October 30, 2018

All rights reserved.
[Anapestic Tetrameter format]
Michael Marchese Jul 2018
I need only to smirk and you’re mine
Anytime
If it’s god that you want
I have dozens in mind
Devilishly divine
Bending time like a grandeur delusional
Spine  

In a mad hatter ectoplas-mystical slime
A prismatic drug addict’s first nursery rhyme
Of accursed hearse verses of graphic design
Now to lay to rest intellect spectacles musing
Of selves glorified more than those of my choosing
To deify Destiny’s
Deathly serenity
Plentifully sending me vibrant surprises
And penning my ending in violent demises
Disguises surmised by the climate arises
Girl always there riding my similar waves
As I try to save face digging mechanized graves

But the cloud tentacles
To the depths
Drag me down
To demented ascension
Black holes in the ground
Where disciples of light
And my huntress in white
Vivify me by day
Resurrect me at night
To instruct and deduct
Reasoning in a state
Of a being supreme
Contemplating its fate
Umi Dec 2017
In one night of these nights, I don't know what happened to me
Oh Lord, I am filled with dakness...how can this be ?
Earth and the heavens are closing in to me, theres no way I can flee

I have fallen, a devil without wings,
A demon who's heart has forgotten something called "The light"
A prisoner with not much to say, a prisoner held by strings
And the sun I see has given up her might...
She does not shine, radiate or any of these things

My eyes cry out as I see the others,
Walking blindly through the flames, not anyone bothers
I have become stuck here because of my sins oh God.
"Does this criminal deserve your forgiveness" I'm thinking
I have confessed my sins, but I am still sinking

But today, oh Lord I want to come back, from the darkness cast by this cruel Sun
My heart is broken, my mind is confused, my lungs feel like being pressured by a ton
I am drowning here, can't see anything
Except for you oh my saviour, my king

So I speak out with the last breath
"Save me, and I will try to fix my behaviour"
Even if you resurrect in hell..the pain of death can be felt well


~ Umi
Lara Volkova Jun 2015
Chandeliers and trimmed trees bring
tears like an ever flowing stream.
Igniting the path to a tragic past
where the moon ceases to beam.
Delicately carving the lines on the
hands that once fed a deal of pleasure
that is of no longer use to me, thank you, my treasure.
Tiptoed to a monastery, with a familiar face
that exceeded my momentum
whom withheld a coin on a string from his septum.
"Buongiorno, buongiorno! From warm descendants!"
treated me with a surplus of respect.
Time will speak, and time has said,
the archangels have failed to resurrect.
Funerals for tales of a tragic past in full cortège, my forever white gold,
Believing time will remain my loyal friend
as long as my foe is the old
A mixture of people, events, and transitions
Leon Murphy Jun 2019
Now I am sinking further
in the deep glow of the night,
into the depths of my mind
I can't see very well I am personally
not used to dark.

Further down I slowly go,
Emotions coming and going
I don't know how to hold them
so I try and I try
To feel them but refrain
letting them grow old.

I struggle sometimes
trying to force my hand
bothered by things I don't understand
but I tell myself this very well
Reminding me to let the kite go
as the wind blows,
the clouds and the rain cover the globe.

Destiny, I am to be unfolded,
re wrapped and patched
to something more organic and loved for it
I will stumble out of stillness and fearfulness
to be brave and built strong, courageous

To let my shackles rust
My vitality rise
I will become a beginning
But first I must die.
Piyush Gahlot Jan 2019
From your straight hair to
the outfits you wear,
that black leather shoe pair,
even the "no makeup" makeup flair.
Everything about you seems perfect, I swear!

Your sweet fine face and my feelings resurrect,
supercilious smile with power that anyone may deflect
even the cute pimple on your face that eject,
moreover the positive vibes you reflect.
****! everything about you seems perfect.

The way you smile,
eyes almost closed, hiding teeth quarter mile,
my heart skips beats for a while,
the way you tie up your hair in that quirky style,
your eccentric figure and that side profile,
orotund low voice gonna put me on trial.

Upbeat personality and attitude you project,
Girl everything about you seems just Perfect!
water streams from between your eyes
puddles fill the cracked streets
my rage is pure like angel fire
a love which nothing can defile
she wets the world with her dampness
thunder cries out for warmth
her shivering shoulders bare witness
to the sun and what was lost
the windy day kept me inside
holding onto this fright
feelings pressed against my chest
i tremble with delight
youthful arrows
morning sparrows
stargazing at night
just because you can do it
doesn’t mean that its right
streets of cobblestones are being shown
the pavement is our throne
home against the cement
dilapidated boxcars
and temples of respect
remove your shoes before you enter
yurts and cabins made of clay
barely resurrect
sustainable ways are coming back
give thanks and respect
to ancestors who deserve our praise
for they never did neglect
their duties to the earthly mother
her love they sought to honor
children of the wilderness at home beneath her cover
canopies of trees
line feline forests with her love
Memories exist in the feel of your love that live within the sound inside your soul
I am digging deep inside an old casket buried in a cosmic black hole
Dead as it may seem, it is alive in you
I resurrect them in organic gardening tunes
The tools I use are made for the soil in your mind
The kind that come from foreign lands
And arent easy to recognize
They bloom when I'm not looking
They manifest and shine
They act as a boomerang
They bloom on their own time
I am fortunate enough
To smell the scent of glory
The fact that they even flower
Let's me know that I am worthy
A reflection I can count on
A flower that can sing
A woman that holds power
One who doesn't need a man for anything

She'd just like to have one
Sounds nice, and it is ❤️
liakey May 2019
Perhaps it’s part of me
My overly predictable destiny
Green-eyed with envy

To accept or reject what lies upon my path
This vision with which I’m granted, increasing my uncontrollable, wreckless wrath

Protects me from the pain
But only a temporary way to sustain

Comes back to drown,
In streams— no—Rivers— no—seas
Never seising to resurrect a scornful frown

Projecting YOUR insecurities
Or revealing MY buried realities
The latter perhaps, though only to be accepted as time demonstrates a greater elapse

Reality I’ve lost
Long gone in my mind
Begging to question
The postlude I hear inside..?

If it mournful and sad
Or joyful, content, maybe overly glad?

The answer I know not,
And constantly question
I feel diluted, watered down and ready to be redirected

Though not by another,
My own self convicted
Cluttered, though entirely barren- I try to escape this impossible maze which I inflicted

purpose; unclear, messy, unordered
Drives me to the edge-
All illusions shattered

Fall afar, reaching the bottom
Broken apart, though somehow I blossom

Not a red rose, not a pure white lily —
Now a green orchid,
fragrant, though dreary
Grace E Mar 2019
we come together
broken from the fight
& dance in the ashes
of our incinerated paradise
We profess our mutual adoration
We resurrect together
Then after we tear down
We rebuild something better
when two warriors fall in love, war is bound to happen.
Life’s too short, and so am I
I’m vertically deprived
I’m king of self denial
And I’m awkward when I lie

I’m hard to reach, a recluse
Who runs away to hide
Less and less curiosity
Attendance on decline  

I haven’t got a gimmick
I won’t win you any prize
Just get used to losing,
And take it all in stride

I’m not the one you’re after
We cannot coincide
There’s no need to act humble
Or be overcome with pride

I asked a real tough question
I made Mother Nature cry
The question wasn’t who or when
Not even where or why

I have a plan to resurrect my life
I’m running out of time
It’s what’s gone wrong
Since I’ve gone numb
That’s keeping me alive

No one to answer every choice
That’s too hard to decide
But if I had the choice I’d choose
On how our worlds collide
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