"salvations" poems
I failed to save another soul today.
On my high patrol, I heard their last gasps leave their lips,
and I let their salvation get away
slipping through my super-powered fingertips.
If I can write assurance to a thousand souls lost, humorous and witty
"If I muster all the words that I know," I thought, "Surely I can save this city."
But life can't be measured by honeyed words, and it's agony to see
the souls' salvations that I'm missing beneath my red-caped nobility.
Even if I flew higher still, with my cape waving proud and free,
no great power I could bring to bear could match my responsibility.
For every orphan girl I save, there's another not too far afield.
For every chain broken, for every freed slave, there are chains that will not yield.
I'd fly around the world and turn back time, but I know t'would be in vain.
What's a single Superman to do, when the whole world cries to be saved?
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Who can know why this is so
That one day stands supreme,
To soar above the working week
And all that found between.
The daily urge, the routine dirge
Of tedious tasks to hand,
Which drive the head to boredom.
And tax the patience bland.
To struggle through this midweek glue
To land at joy contrived
For then arriveth Friday
The proof we have survived.
Friday, joyous Friday
When birds come out to sing
And sunshine at it’s glorious best
Radiates on everything.
Children yell and grown men laugh
Great wondrous things abound
As Friday spreads its bounteous wings
And herald trumpets sound.
To ensnare this magic essence
To bottle it for all,
Would save our suffering planet
And sound salvations call.
M.
Friday ,23 November 2018
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 6:12 PM UTC
there is never an afterthought looking
at society as a whole but, in times of
discontent; we look disdain in the eyes
as it dulls humanities open-mindedness,
aghast
yet, we find clemency to overlook abominate
behavior in our fellow humans fore... the storm
will pass in the face of sullen words that may
darken our path; it behooves ethically to consider
their trials and tribulations in life as they unmask;
revealing their torment to mind and soul, giving
thought to their utterances and actions seeking
forgiveness, falling to their knees in repentance
dare we ask of their dilemma or do they shutter
in the wake of humanities wrath; shall we re-consider,
silently ingesting; fact or fiction in a society of closed
minds, refusing to shed their armor, their protection
from the few in the masses with no afterthought,
no understanding as a mind clashes with thoughts
of self-destruction; finding no justification
thinking God has abandoned them to face irrational
minds and behavior; not realizing He's right by their
side walking in their shoes; carrying them through
their burdens, trying to open up their eyes mind and
soul to see hope at salvations door , fore, they have
not been forsaken...the minds a terrible thing to waste
on societies triviality
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
Strip me of my sins,
Exercise my body of its demons.
Leave it shaking as it rides
the long, hard road to absolution.
Teach me in doctrines Old and New
the routes to salvations gate.
Take me again and again.
Make pious lips part and moan
wordless prayers in praise of You.
– my heavenly guide.
– The one I always come with.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 1:36 PM UTC
Were my words....
the hands
that sculpted
the heartbeat
of your soul
into the breath
that passed
across my shoulders,
in places where
your fingertips
brushed back my
hair, exposing
the curve
of my neck...
Were my thoughts,
a bridge, I traveled
into a place where
time stood still,
save for the
moonlight whispers
of your...
Fantasy
cascading down
the passages
of my dreams,
turned the brightest
shade of scarlet
for the want of you,
burned
Monet to skin
I lay, undone
Longing to be
the Masterpiece
you create
with your touch,
aching to feel the
soul you paint
into my eyes
Glazed, windows
to the fire,
banked no more
let free,
to burn, cinders
Ash ascends,
quickens the breath
that become the
wings of crimson
glow, born of
inhalations of
distant blue...
graze the smoulder
that pierces the
horizon,
invisible heat,
seeking the
source with
eyes of touch,
requiring no
preordained
destination...
Let fall, the rain
Staccato,
to cleanse our
flesh, slick
with the wet
of salvations
thirst, strums
to move our
souls, to one
Twined
into frenzied limbs
I reach for
the fire in you
out of the ashes
let us rise, reborn
to worship
the heat of day
as you carve your
Absolution
into my palms
raised to the
glory of nights
inhaling sunrise
My words....
hands that sculpted
the heartbeat
of your soul
Moistened in
the reign,
fingerprints,
tracing the
press upon
skin, as they
tingle...
indulging
in a season,
somewhere in between
a winter without creed,
and the spring of our
confessions,
spilling over the banks
of our deliverance....
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 4:48 PM UTC
black top hats and heretical clowns
surprise! the circus is back in town
ladies and Gentlemen- we've a show tonight
so bed the kids and dim the lights
hotel ballrooms and cheap champagne
silhouettes of Falsehood and the infamous Fame
a gallery of harlots and libertines
blessed with the curse of controversy
suicidal salvations and casualties
religion built the bomb that burned the buildings
a ballet of East making martyr of West
they pulled their own trigger- shot themselves in the chest
creaky pulpits and dusty pews
a prayer to be one of the Chosen Few
but holy water won't cleanse these Sins
in time, all shows must come to an end
so bed the kids and dim the lights
it's time for a panicked revival tonight
clasp your hands- bound by rosary beads
baptism- your wants, prostitution- your needs.
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 4:26 PM UTC
Dear Monday
I come to you
Burned and bruised with sins of yesteryear
Covered with the blood of disloyalty
My speech cluttered with tones seeking salvations
Battered with tales of remorse
Seeking pardon to all I've erred
I come to you
Bare
Without riches
Heart yearning for change
and I ask that you lead me closer to redemption
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 5:33 AM UTC
"Ha Ha! did some kid really get a 37 on the test? Good luck to that guy."
Hi, I'm Miss 37 on a Recordkeeping test
yet I ingest, more natural intelligence,
from my morning spinach-strawberry-banana smoothie;
than I do from eating your face off.
Haley, restrain, breathe, write.
I score more points when I invest
every spastic ounce of energy into calming down.
Plastic expectations don't deserve
my jolted, steaming, red in the face nerves.
My teacher and I know I haven't earned
below a 70 yet this year.
Two Years ago I was buried myself beneath enough mulch
I could barely emit muffled noises;
let alone offer proposes of how far the stick up your *** is.
Drowning in every pound of self destruction
I erupted volcanos, melted my mother's heart.
Struggled, mulligrubbed with my own monsters.
Finally, I emerged from the dirt, blooming,
fueled by the passion for life that consumed me.
My roots hardened into knotted salvations;
Pursuit of curiosity, to never stop asking questions.
Passionate relationships, with equal give and take and
Intrigue in the new and altruistic.
I never asked to be a statistic
among American teens who pursue the American Dream.
Surviving a full year in high school is enough
to satify my pride.
A 37 is nothing to hide
so say it louder man-boy.
Straighten your spine on that testosterone pedestal.
Good luck out there, I hope you catch em all!
I'll be gazing at the sky, a piece of advice?
Always keep your ears open, Always keep your eyes wide.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 11:24 AM UTC
HOW DOES GOD WORK? 08-18-10
How is it that two young teenage girls can get up early to go to school so they can attend an early morning prayer group in the lobby of their school, only to put themselves in the line of fire of a teenage lunatic who walks in and starts shooting?
Why, God? WHO ARE YOU, GOD? WHAT ARE YOU, GOD?
This is a true account of one of the first school massacres. In Kentucky, in 1997? A kid is so abused and disillusioned with his young life, he freaks out. He kills his mother. He tortures his dog to death.
In preparation for the final payback. An attack at the school with all guns blazing. Heath High School, fourteen year old gun man.
In an interview, he said, “My mother never loved me!”
Why does everyone thank God when they survive catastrophes? Why are they in the catastrophe? Are they thanking God, then? Hell no! They are pleading with Him. The pleading may lead to nothing and they fall out of the sky in an ill-fated airplane “accident”.
Yet, if they survive, they are praising God almighty. Why?
Why do we damm God when we hate life, and praise God when we survive it?
Why is life so ******* haphazard and unfair?
These are my questions:
If God is so powerful, why doesn’t He give us some answers? Why do I have to witness so much ****** mayhem, abuse, and pain? Why don’t I see more miraculous salvations from sure death?
It’s too late for me, but why doesn’t He help the innocents? The creatures we see on TV commercials, who are maimed, beaten, and dying in front of our eyes? Where is His sense of justice? Where is his sense of “Humanity”?
Why do I remain, with no reason to live? Why not take me, instead of that poor abused dancing bear? Or that beat to death donkey? Why?
Am I worth more than His other creatures, much more innocent and helpless than I?
Why?
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 11:04 PM UTC
walking down the easy path
as the sun sets west,
lead by a lonesome shadow;
yet a new day dawns
to realize
value
in Truth by the narrow path.
step by step
the sun rises to give new life.
To the East,
struggle and strife is strength to gain
salvations life.
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 12:59 AM UTC
The dark of the night
Can bury hidden thoughts
That no one has known before.
It can hold in memories
That have never escaped
And are stuck within.
The night can bring sadness
That you thought had never been there
Until the stars slowly fade.
Whispers of the night
Can tell you things that have
Been stuck in the wind for years.
Salvations that have been lost
Are brought back to vision
And escape from your soul.
The night tends to pull a person
In so deeply that there is no escape,
Until the sun shines again.
Blood races it's way through skin,
Tears form their way into vision,
In the dark of the night.
Oct 18, 2014
Oct 18, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
past where ***** lie
beside christian soldier
whose older and bolder
panhandling shames guy.
eyes lift from dirt to seat.
overflow shame is then
crammed in a telecoms pen.
salvations' hat sits complicit
with our gaze raised upto
other responsible 'sort'
whom donations taught
to be our virtue.
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
There are salvations in staring at the joins in the blocks of the rocks.
Like a fire from denial too long of that crouched and smouldering
In the learnt importance of crossing roads.
Importance that will not allow a life
Afterwards
But - maybe we can say - in the midst of getting and spending
Wrench yourself away
To stand still and stare at the stones
That way sanity lies....
Far away from boredom
And fearful cold to start with
- but not boring.
And *** - what of that?
Like walking on the fell naturally grows to a run...
For fun
For more than that
Where it all Comes together?!
yes - indeed.
Intensity of staring with eyes shut in passion
The glorious arc -
That commands the eye away from fragile later worlds
That may or may not be...
Feb 5, 2010
Feb 5, 2010 at 12:01 AM UTC
dawn vanished in darkening skies
annihilating his green eyes
leaving me a sinister view;
of haunting thoughts, snared
in his mind as he whisper his
want to imprison me in his world
taken unkindly in the middle of night
burying his fangs deep across throat,
a ghastly sight dripping blood upon
my rose, my thoughts wander striking
a pose as darkness descends stripped
naked; he knows I'll forever be stricken
by his entrancing pleas
condemned to his dark minded lures,
teardrops of blood shakes me to my core;
drenched in his crimson need, I beseech
at salvations door; no-one knows his power
beckons deep within, tearing into the breadth
of me his urgency at the smell of warm blood
flowing
with his devious darkness satisfied, he moans
against warmth of neck as if, sipping dark
lullabye's; while I silently beg for sunrise as
we lay in repose till night awakens his dark
passion; embedded within
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
I.
There are no pillars of fire to—
gather around; the clouds, they
deluge the prayers to and fro.
The deafened rumblings racing
the pouring torrents, as they
try to reach out, to answer,
and frown like morose protests,
like restless tantrums; and I—
I can only gasp for air.
Like salvations and unmet counsels.
II.
Remembrance follows ever-dearly;
shuffles carelessly amongst hasty—
coronations of dusted amber,
of dubious prints on the sand,
and it comes along, lavishly.
Esperance creeps tauntingly:
I wonder if it’s within me,
to reach out and sear the weave—
with conjoined hands, praying for air.
Like revising sextants and astrolabes.
III.
Dread is a candle in the dark,
nestled tightly into the fingers
and burrowed deeply into—
hands; they choose to hold on.
Blessed are the hands that harrow
and lean to the curtains of twilight,
to the lenses of hindsight:
merely debtors, to the fealty of morrow.
I can no longer grasp for air.
Like rainbows after a downpour, like chrysalides striking an impasse.
.
May 24, 2024
May 24, 2024 at 7:13 PM UTC
if I keep moving I’ll forget
it started as a stroll through my memories
the complete collection of our friendship
our moments recorded transmitted at night
If I keep moving I’ll forget
It was then a slow jog, a steady projection forward through repeated images of us
a job through our conversations and with equal speed my replies to your salvations
If I keep moving I’ll forget
I’m running now and out of breath
Escaping these meadows is harder than I thought
My leisurely pace through your actions has confused me
The trees seem like strangers trying to touch me
The grass blades pass like a covered memory
I’m on a train seven hundred miles an hour
The sun sets behind me and yet I’m strolling through your music
I need to keep moving to forget you because you never even remembered me
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 12:23 PM UTC
Feeling the wanting need
for revelations;
A drowning desire
opposed to the temptations
that saves us and protects us within its religious and non-vicious,
righteous remindings of home.
Carving, painting, striving against the grain-
that which lies within the wood,
that which calls from within and against us
to let stay misunderstood
these, the mysteries,
the salvations, the psalms
and prophetic verses
which try,
try to guide us,
to divinity.
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
In the garden sweat flowed as blood. In the garden the son of man was tried. In the garden the final prayers were said. In the garden where Jesus fate was decided. In the garden the fathers will was done. In the garden, mortal failings were conquered and salvations victory won.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
You said you used to love writing when we were young
but now you sit here in your sadness
putting God under your tongue—
rubbing those prayers into your gums
I couldn't uphold a job and I couldn't afford gold so
I sold my soul to buy you a chalkboard
and with one hand under tongue
in the same writing from when we were young
chalk on your thumb, you wrote—
Salvation never comes
Salvation never comes
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 5:44 PM UTC
Down the dim and darkening tunnels
through the mazes of my life
While my soul deals with the trials
and my flesh deals with the strife
I still can see the burning
of salvations shining light.
While my heart has mourned with losses
and my tears have overflown
And my world has tossed and tumbled
from everything I once had known
Though circumstances said defeat,
through strength, my faith has grown.
I've learned to look past what is there
to what it might become
I've learned though strikes may be against me
that is not the total sum.
I must do my best to measure
up on the day my Lord will come.
As I lay upon a bed of death
it's claws gripped to my soul
I must confess a part of me
just wanted to let go
But a quieter voice said,
"there is more to do you know."
Who stands upon deaths' doorstep
and doesn't stop to wander back
To look upon the deeds they've done
or upon the things they lack.
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
As time slowly fades away the young boys fascination with the bird grows into infatuation. Chasing after the bird around the train car, the boy and the bird become the main event of a misfortunate situation. The man gazes in slight confusion.
-------------------------
SOUL 1
-------------------------
A
Run.
Run from
high pursuit.
I try to fly.
When
I do I hit the roof. With no real escape I search for temporary salvations. Once at peace I am disturbed again. When
Will this torture end? How many men can say
They have caught a bird with their
Bare hands?
A moment
to myself
trapped in a
train. And he will
not quit. All the joy
on his face.
-------------------------
SOUL 2
-------------------------
I
Run.
Here to
there, and
Back again.
Why try
to
Escape me. There is no place to go. No open window for you to run through. You persist to resist your end. Come
to me my friend let your destiny take its course
all forces are against you and still you try.
Why do you?
Why would
you fight.
Just give up.
Is it really worth
it to try and try?
If so, why
-------------------------
SOUL 3
-------------------------
A
Show
On a small
Train car. I
Watch cro-
ssing my
fingers hoping this boy would quit. Enthusiastically running from here to there. I hope he is aware
there is no way he will catch a bird in here.
He must know. Even still he tries his
hardest to
catch some-
thing so free
he stops at no-
thing. He must
have never learned
to give up.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
To the river then he said
To the wash.To salvations song he cried.
To the river then he whispered,as he withered deep inside.
To the river where the water rushes all our sins aside.
To the river then without delay
To the river by and by.
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:48 AM UTC
Do you get me in the heat of the night
Your thumbs in my indentations
Hair strewn a dark notioned mess
Darkness seeps ***** fantasy
Heavy breaths eyes shut light
Lashes mash neck sigh salvations
Finding the caress soaking confess
Rush of gush free from depravity
Dec 27, 2017
Dec 27, 2017 at 1:02 PM UTC
Bred to believe
God to be
More than we conceive
In scripture is seed
To grow and feed
On love and bleed
But first! Concede
To YOUR OWN misdeeds
And hit your knees
To find the lead
To salvations greed
Gathered souls heed
We have all you need!
Turn, from drugs and ****
Let God intercede!
DO NOT let Satan impede
Your will to read
In-between the lines
Hear truth in the lies
It is God who did not love I.
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 6:06 PM UTC