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J Christmas Aug 2011
I shall love diners after Death
                 Famished from a million mile trek
                           Soft dances, whimsical, flowing
                                    All in time and in step
                                             Effervescent  in its antiquity
          Light penetrates the vociferate soul
                    A blinding silhouette Reveals the true physique
                             casting no shadows
                                  back, at last, back to the harmony &
                                 surrealism of our sacrarium, our home
                                   no more hours to waste away
                            nothing to signifying  
                                            night from day
                 no need to search for words to convey
                  As we began we return just as we should
                   our recrudescence revivifies our sainthood
                                            with No judgment charged upon us
                                         with no reward for the good
                                     neither condemned are the noxious
                                 immoral nor the many many absurd
               For those deleterious malignant calamities
                    must remain incarcerated on Earth
                              from whence it came
                               As we Return once again
                                         soul cleansed in beatific death
                                                The physical abandoned with sin
                        The dead left unknown,
un birthed
Shut in
John Deryck Christmas copyright 2011
J Christmas Jan 2010
I shall love diners after Death Famished from a million mile             trek
            Soft dances, whimsical, flowing
       All in time and In step   Effervescent  in its antiquity
   Light penetrates the vociferate soul
                                                            ­        A blinding silhouette Reveals the true physique
                             casting no shadows
         back, at last, back to the harmony &.                                                 surrealism of our sacrarium, our home
no more hours to waste away
                             nothing to signifying  
    night from day                                    no need to search for  words to convey
                  As we began                                     we return                                               just as we should
                   our recrudescence revivifies our sainthood
     with No judgment charged upon us
               with no reward for Good                          neither condemned are the noxious
               immoral nor the many many absurd
                                                                  For those deleterious malignant calamities must remain incarcerated on Earth
                              from whence it came
                   As we Return once again
               soul cleansed in beatific death
                                                           ­      The physical abandoned with sin
*Copyright John D. Christmas @2011
Levottomuus Apr 2019
Stoic amid the tranquil tides, the temperate zephyrs
But a fluttering spark, travelling through the aeons
Witness to the wonders of time, yet ever fleeting
The bearer of that which outlasts this eternal folly

However, for a certainty, even this steadfast paragon
Does not foresee what the clock hands have in store
And the fallen mouth their soft, intelligible rhymes
Thus the air carries this ephemeral elegy of euphony

But as the voices dance within those hallowed halls
Sound brilliantly in harmony, a display of fervour
The mosaic of echoes dismantled by fate's clutches
Changes imminently, unavoidably, flawlessly

Alas, the decadent phantoms of the days long gone
In their irrefutable devotion to their fallacious lord
Seek naught but to extinguish the astral avatar
Embodied within the solitary luminaire, ever vigilant

Does the final line of defence lay dormant even now
As the messenger of the deep beyond revivifies
The illusion dispelled, disenchanted, disengaged
Situation growing direr, the peacekeeper absent

Sealed within a decrepit maze, the mirrored world
Drawing parallels between the unimaginable still
Lost its own essence in the steadily rising entropy
For none are safe; the fabric of reality is wounded

Tendrils escape from the fissure, liberated at last
Come what may, the very barriers between realms
Once separating life and death, light and darkness,
Brought down in a prismatic flash of scintillation

And as that which tore this rift open runs rampant
The spectres of the past in their perpetual undeath
Whisper but a single innocent inquiry of naiveté
"May we reclaim our corporeal selves once more?"

An epiphany unlike most defeats wishful thinking
The clairvoyant beholder, the ever-present observer
Held their answer for as long as the currents of time
Although hope succumbs last, what is after hope?

Thus, in the demoralising wake of the bitter truth
Let the untamed flames of fury loose, such tragedy
Doom befalls the woeful, weary and withered worlds
For the inconspicuous spark has ceased its motion

The end justifies the means in the mind of madness
Created on a whim. I don't understand myself sometimes.

— The End —