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Katlyn Orthman Sep 2012
Snow flakes falling in the abyss
Cold antic whispers of sin
The frozen trail deaths finger tips leave across your soul
Mendacious eyes in the dark
A crook of a finger
Leads you farther into the dark
Hand in hand with the beast with wings of the angles
Satans halo warped and bloodied
Stains of the sinners sins on his robe
Evil lays in wake, but slumbers deeply
Hope is running out
Tick of the cracked face clock
The night of an eclipse
Alls dark for a few seconds
****** a few innocents
Corrupt them
Then consume
Lord  i will only look to you for the anwsers i seek. Even when i feel like your not listening you've heard every word ive speaked.lord you are everything from the water flowing in a creek. To the trees dancing in the breeze. You eliminate the odor of sin in my life so you are lifes febreze. You only see the best in me while people only see the worst. But there judgements are irreleva"nt because you lord come first. You are in control so to you my life has been rehearsed. So you know everything that has happened.and in my future whats going to occur. So my life is in your hands so i crave your direction. I will make mistakes but when i do i will ask for your correction. Because if you called me right  now would i be ready for inspection. You are my quaterback and every play you've made has been perfected. And i am the receiver  so my job is to catch the  reception. Or will i be to distracted by the defense of the enemy whos only plan is  interception. He plans to knock me of the route that you intend me to run.  But his bumps dont matter because i was constructed and instructed by the holy one!  So the play that you call will be the one thats true and clear. So when i take off from that line  the defense will push and pull but i will not adhere to fear. I will stay on my route while you whisper in my ear break left. Break right. Jump. Now my feet are in the air. And how im going to land is not always clear. but the play that you've called is one of truth and so divine. That even though i dnt know where im about land when i look up and catch the ball and stop worrying about the defense. And stop worrying bout my weakness.ive just scored your touchdown and satans been defeated.
Buried down inside my mind
Hidden deep within
Are thoughts I cannot tell
Of hate and lust and sin

Darkness rules this place
Where I often go to visit
A heart that is willing
Is Satans only  requisite

There I meet the demons
The ones that cause me shame
Gropeing all upon me
Yelling out my name

Tempting me to do
Acts I thought I couldent
Thoughts and visions seen
Of things I know I shouldent

I turn to try to run
And from the evil flee
But I cannot  escape
The temptations holding me

At last I break away
It is only a short reprieve
For soon again I'm tempted
By the lies the demons weave
Sean Banks Apr 2013
Suicide
Is not an option
Well, not the only option at least
Don't lease
Your life to poor tenants
Who have more money than you
They will define worthlessness in numbers
Under the umbrella of life, i am asked to rationalize my fear
In ratio to careers
Plural is the breeding ground of statistics

And can you explain to me the difference
Between a near death experience
And being on your hands and knees
In the depths of hell?
There isn't satin sheets in satans hotel

The Irony of taking the escalator down
This fiery decline
To where chairs
Don't even recline

Did your mother ever tell you,
"Don't sweat the small stuff"

The Check-in line grows

There is Nancy, who wont stop asking your name
And Doreen, who's daughter clearly doesn't want to visit
And Jasper, who has been told he is insane and wont stop smiling
And Darin, who works the front desk and hates when people mispronounce his name
How do you mispronounce Darin - is this a test, or a sick game?

And don't forget dear Janet - today she ascends from the underworld
But can't stop crying tears of joyless joy
Unlike me, maybe she doesn't want to leave
These people are dying for attention - where the hell are their families?

Ostracized and alone
Its a cut throat battle
To use a single telephone

Let it be known
You don't want to die this soon
Hell
Is a psych ward waiting room
yo since i had no choice but to rep **** life
drugs n alcohol became my wife 
though im stressed
 through the curses of ham
 its the summer of sam and still i slam
 my adversaries get the gasoline soak em along with kerosene
light em up and watch em go in flames ******* know my name
 since i escape the reign
 no longer got dibs on me
 im livin' carefree 
but still feel consolidated to satans invisible penitentiary
 so.many brothers like me
 wanna speak free
 but all they see is the cemetery
**** it i shot the sheriff and the deputy 
feelin' that ***** Marley talkin' to me
 Through **** and hennessey
 aint no more fear 
mama still lookin' for me but i aint here
my heart left long ago I feel no sorrow 
and if i die dont cry for me tomorrow
 just know
i stayed true to the game
 i dont care about how long my reign will last? im.a blast from.the past 
born in the wrong century
yo i know ya feeeeel me
 and all my real ******
doing yo thang 
how about we load up slugs in the popo brains im.insane 
product of Jesus that ***** died at thirty three 
now how many niggus died before thirty three
 defamin' our savior name
 he was black as can be 
skin made a bronze eyes of blazin' fire 
look how they treated our messiah
 they didnt give ****
fools sellin' out for paper bucks
 only for the devil to exchange ya soul quid pro quo all i know
is imma be real.with mine and if they cross that line 
ill.put em.on the flat line and if i die in the line
of fire ill be reincarnated as a ak 47 round pound for pound
 puttin' these snitches n ******* in the ground 
Who wanna scrap?
 bunch of city politicians talkin' crap 
and just know if they watchin' me they watchin' you??? 
and if they come for me just know they coming for you 
Since im a lost son of a prophet 
hard to knock it if it wasnt true the media wouldnt use us for profits
 house nigguhs givin' up ***
with no hesitation
 **** that ill **** the ***** of the plantation 
divide n conquer is oldest trick in the book
 know who's the ******' crook?
watch out for these jealous *** bustas 
cuase when it comes to snaps
 theyll make hell for a hustlaaaaa
John Ciarmello Dec 2012
Carboned over this mythical troll
petrified nails clutch
a tattered scroll
the paper cracks beneath his grip
a wince a glance
a careful snip
featured in this ancient scroll
a script? a poem?
a captured soul?
hearts then mourned with shoulders dipped
his thoughts, his truths
his words once lipped
satans feathers' on his
buried blades
his words, his redemptions,
still...
escapades!
carboned over this mythical troll
with petrified nails... with tattered scroll
a glance, a grip
of ancient blight
prose in hand
is the writers might
IsReaL E Summers Dec 2015
Not ego
We go
Let go
He flow
Bestow
Hes a muh ****** beast doe!!
Ive never been anything more then what my Father has made me to be be I may have been sane but briefly cause God man is just "crazy" (the way that He Loves me.)
...
Sswwwooooo!
I AM THE FORE-RUNNER FOR UNDER-GUNNERS WHO SHOOT FOR THE STOMACH PUMPIN HUMPIN THE DURT
YOUR NASTY MIND IS SUCH A PERVERSE
PERVASIVE PILE, HOLD ON ILL LET THAT LAST ONE JUST SINK IN A LITTLE WHILE.
SATANS CRAMPIN' MY STYLE. TRIED DIGESTING THE BIAL BUT I NEED A VITAL
SIGN HIS TITLES BLIND BUT MINE IS THRU THE VINE OK JUST ONE MORE LINE
MERRY CHRISTMAS
FROM MY HEARTS OWN MIND
To yours.
Merry Christmas Light creeps
Kìùra Kabiri Dec 2016
CONSCRIPTS: CHILDREN OF WAR

Conscripts, Innocent children robbed for war
From Congo, Chad, Central Africa Republic, Mali….
From Uganda to Sudan and South Sudan, Burkina Faso, Senegal…..
They are the forefronts young fatal fighters
From Boko Haram, Al Shabaab, Lord Resistance Army…..
They are these merciless Militias mouths-youths
From Biafra-Nigeria, Bujumbura, Asmara to Abidjan Civil Wars
They are their battalions’ fertile feeding grounds
They are Kony, Riek Machar and Ruthless Rebels’ mercenaries
They are Ouattara, Nkurunziza, Salva Kiir…..youthful foot soldiers  
They are Resistance Armies and Liberation army’s guerillas  

They raided a village
They foraged the villages
For innocent, forced conscripts
At dawn-at dusk, daytime-nighttime  
At noontime-at eventide-every time

And she begged
These satans that came
At the mask of dark nights
Slithering silent as serpents
For her last left and living!

She mourned and bemoaned
Helpless and hopeless
Her, grief-stricken hapless
But under those ****** shot eyes
Those coals-hot red coloured irises
That pity or its empathy knows not
It was all in vain-to no avail!

Determined, resolute, uncaring, ruthlessly  
Him tucked on her compassionate chest
Him still tagged on her hopeless breast
Its cheeks struggling to suckle any fluid
From these sagged sacks of balloons
Him they riotously robbed

And those that can’t they ripped
To those that can’t they opened
Those that can’t they roped
To those that can’t odd happened
Those that can’t they *****
To those that can’t they dampened

Those able fingerings wrapped
On frontiers as fighters they lined
With no war experience
With no ammunitions intelligence
No boots-barefoot, no shirts-bare chests
As shields shivering, roughly ripped
By advanced military and militias

Never to know home again
Never to know its warmth again
Never to know fears again
Never to know pains again
Never to know happiness ever again
Never to know the sweet tastes again
Of what Mama’s milk-nourishing colostrums contain

Somewhere in tough terrains
Somewhere in jagged plains
Somewhere in rugged mountains
Somewhere in thicketed montanes
Somewhere in brutal bushes
Somewhere in shriveling shrubs
Shallow graves of their immature bones
Their carrions lay leaked white by scavengers or time

Lucky him that deaths avoids
Lucky him that deaths mercy observes
Lucky him that deaths shyly eludes
Fortunate him it sympathetically spares
Lives in agony of pain and guilt
Lives in fears of loyalty and liberty
Lonely eyes, hollow sorrow, mourning souls,
Empty heart, mad tampered mind, tempered looks….
Him, innocent Conscripts, Children of War!

© Kìùra Kabiri. All rights reserved.
Sorrowful.
Pastors clergies reverends to deacons
Aint nothing but demons leechin
Off false preachin made up teachin'
Say its God but steadily reachin'
Takin all of your loot
For the love of the root
Only to go home broke
Yoked as a joke i pop smoke
Nothing but wolves in sheeps clothes
I expose evilness in the gospels
Using divine principles
As a profit false prophets
Using the holy name in vain
Mentally drained linked by a chain
Straddlin' the fench feet lynched
Cant stand if ya stuck to the bench
They call me a grinch
Cuz my money aint spent
Never gone repent to these devils
Thats hell sent
In the form of angelic scents
Enticin' people through embezzlement
For a ritual settlement moved by an embodiment
Can't pay bills or rent
Cuz they church got the windows tint
So miracles can perform
Then say blessings were sent
From up above but aint no love
Since hell is on earth here
One third to be exact
Now lets subtract
Fake people layin' financial testimonies
Phonies its all bologna
Lies told right in front of your eyes
Serpents guised as the wise
Gentle as a dove pushin hope and love
Off false faith they say im late
But im on time killin the vibe
Once my spirit arrives thrive
Cuz my potency is strong
So must cant hold on
Still singing slavery songs
Like we shall overcome
**** the drums i drop the guns
And let the ammo
Rip through they torso to spinal
And i laugh gracefully as the rest in peace
**** the church hypocrisy
I know ya hate me
But im layin' vengeance with my brillance
Coming back for the sons of Satans
I aint hesitatin'
Drivin' in my top drop
Chillin' in the scene
With a gangsta lean
Liqour shivers my spline
Wait for the light to turn green
Smoke some green
So i can see things
Grazin' in the skies
I feel something lookin' me in my eyes
A fear of unknown intentity
Or is it my conscious ******' with me ?
Nope im not a emcee
Im just a guy spittin poetry
Dont let the bs bury me
Im hotter 20 degrees times the heat
Of the sun
Im disastrous harzardous
Then ill waste ya
Bring ya back like Jesus did Lazarus
Rhymes i mastered it
No one can spit and hit
Im mixed with particles of a cobra n pit
My bite is vicious venomus
Plus i leave your mind spacious
Now ya drawin' illusions
Cuz ya brains in confusion
I couldn't wait for satans intrusion
God gave me the sign
Now i punish all the asinine
My mind
Is nothing but intellect
Select what you reject
Eject
Metaphors
That even make the wisest sore
Solomon he wasnt even tempted
Before i got exempted
Out of birth cherish on earth
Grew up now i know i got no girth
No to hang on too wanna to be
Next hardest one man crew
My shadows got shadows
If ya chase me ill still be in the back of you
Out smart my opponent
******* gets haunted my guns be flaunted
AMERIKKKAZ MOST WANTED
see im hated by many loved by a few
The ones who claim they the realist
Down you??
And the ones labelled fake
Is the realist one for you?
My enemies come out the blue
I block with my telekinesis fiber optics
Burn up hot media topics
**** capitalism profits
I glow like an eternal wattage
Rhymes manifest in the darkest hour
In my cottage
You thought if was over
But ive only begun
War has just begun im returned as the luminous one victorious
N if you envy dont worry
Cuz nobody will take you serious
Im furious got you delirious
Say my rhymes is ****
But fools peepin' my ****
Got em curious
Come on!!!!
Claire Ellen Feb 2013
Covered in love
straight from above
but love turns
to aches, burns
our hearts empty
where Satans tempting
of wanting more
than evver before
ship wreck shore.
spinning, spinning, motions
sweet soft lotions
turn to ball rooms
then come fumes
crystal mixed limes
shattered with crims
you turn to theft
we never left,
ship wreck shore.
i get lost
windows covered frost
green peering eyes
innocent of lies
you finally beaten
my heart, defeated
but maybe more,
ship wreck shore.
from this far
it seems hard
at first glance
boats are ants
trees are swaying
from our music playing
pens filling pages
my love cages
wanting to love more
on ship wreck shore.
Mateuš Conrad Jan 2020
only days have past since the end of the most
depressing period in the year:
in terms of music...

i welcome January as that month where i can return
to music, to serious music...
if it weren't for some of the songs
i will cite: i would find even more allure
in the Adhan...

but thank god or the devil for the month
of carol singing is over!
the month of carol singing is over!
the "god" has been born - we'll see him
in 33 years to come -
and with his birth the carol singing
can finally be silenced...

why oh why do i find christmas such
a melancholic period?
the carol... even if nietzsche found
reading thomas a kempis' imitation
of christ to be a depressive lot in life...
i too have read it...
and thought of the joy i experienced
for week in Taizé (Burgundy)...

Burgundians in France...
the Kashubians in Poland -
or the Silesians...
how seemingly loveless it is to peer
at intra-national entities...
with a dear eye scout for the details...
the germans love to sing!
wasn't it an austrian that came along
with an opera in german when
all the operas where still in Italian?
to be honest...
it sounds much worse in England...
i favor Händel... greatly...

john suchet can have his Beethoven ****...
his 52 week long saturday 9pm
1h show dedicated to the deaf dunk'e...
i quiet like the backdrop of Händel's
life... the composition for the fireworks
on the Thames... Charles II in general...
point being:
the carol season is over...
i can return to what keeps me well met
with countering any hunger for
new music, even from the genres
i'd appreciate more...

there's no: last christmas - wham!
all i want for christmas - mariah carey...
fairytale of new york - the pogues...
merry christmas everyone - shaky stevens...
the usual suspects...

all that singing for a stone's worth
of a sad little heart...

give me the songs of anon.!
llibre vermell of montserrat - stella splendens!
cuncti simus!
carmina burana - bonum est confidere...
minnesang - neidhart - meine die liechter schin...
refenbogen - gott vater sparch zu abraham...
hugo von montfort - fro weit
konrad von würzburg - hofton...
wolkenstein - wer ist, die da durchleuchtet...
german 15th century anon. - ich var dohin...
ditto - mit vrouden quam der engel...
neidhart von reuental - sumer deiner suzzen wunne...

and the last can go on...
which i find an alternative to classical when...
when jazz becomes too congesting...
there is always an alternative...
and classical music doesn't have to be:
the ultimate counter to modern music...
even if jazz helps...
there is an alternative to what's being
pushed among former newsreaders
who have become "d.j."-'ey-'eys...

how naive of my to have the following thought:
if german was to somehow disappear
from the face of the earth by a lightning bolt
and become a lake of tears...

would i borrow anything from
the 20th century - the anglophonic victory
and subsequent gloating?
or perhaps just a songs from
the medieval period -

and even if the medieval period was
as glum and ignorant as modern rubrics
of science demand -
a scientific can't leverage a joy -
with such certainty of knowing -
with so much certainty -
with weather forecasts...
i demand myself to not watch the forecasts
and beckon my moods on the weather
and the weather on my moods...
if there's anything organic to be retained
with regards to weather -
if i were a farmer perhaps i'd listen
to the annual forecast...
but on a day-to-day basis?
why rob myself of this last desire for
a surprise?
why be robbed of the organic sensation
bound to air, to the electricity
tickling the skin when a thunderstorm...
then there's a deluge and the frogs start
speaking in a crescendo of their
curriculum of barrage and referendum:
and simply fall with
the cats and dogs and reprimand
the man who bodly goes into down...
a man who takes an umbrella with him
out of his residence...
and never will never buy an umbrella
on the whim... being surprised...
what joy when all you buy is predictable...
when all you buy is... an addiction focus...
to feel any better:
how can one feel any better buying
an umbrella spotaneously?!
what greater joy comes from buying
an umbrella when it unexpectedly starts
raining!
and what of the joy of running barefoot
in the rain! what of the joy still harvesting
our eyes our ears our nostrils!
has science really served up the right sort
of an anaesthetic?!
that we are incubated by pure mind...
pure reason and all the trivia crescendos
any mind will want to warrant further...
when not a single ounce of joy in song
can be captured?
intellectual complexity of song:
progressive rock and hyper-inflated pop...
classical music you will never be able
to whistle to... will never be able to take up
with a guitar and play the skeleton...

perhaps edvard grieg's:
in the hall of the mountain king...
but only perhaps!
play me the skeleton accent of any piece
of classical music! from 'ear alone:
this... but the rest? hardly a whisper,
a whimper a whistling pete the piper would
have minded in inducing hyponosis on
the rats...
that whriling crescendo...
the bombast pandemonium reaching
******... the cloud of bats and satans descend...

who cares if peter sutcliffe wants his ashes
to be scattered in yorkshire...
my bigger pet peeve was that he wanted
the cremantion to have....
saint-saëns - danse macabre
to be playing in the background...
yes... for all it's worth: the shrill violin...
the: scratching of nails on a blackboard...
the running of a fork or a knife
on a piece of ceramic plating...

also of note regarding today:
- vierschanzentournee -
outside of the english-speaking world...
there's much more than merely
an Eddie 'the eagle' edwards biopic...
come on!
a world darts championship?!
darts?! the pub go to thing if there's
no pool table?!
that's gonna be an olympic sport?
so what's so terrible about ski jumping?
or the biathlon?
or indoor volleyball for that matter?
the english and their cricket (ok...
i concede to the genius of the sport)...
but lawn bowls?!
what's wrong with... nip'n'tuc pin bowling?
curling... that's also a serious sport?!
tennis versus ping-pong...
which is like throwing darts...
and those demigods at the olympics
with the very recent south korean women
in that sport of archery!
darts and archery... savvy? Lu Bu... Jumong...
never mind... a fellow "countryman"
of "mine" might win this tournament this year...
a дaвид кубaЦки... why would i upper-case
the kappa or the delta...
when the letter of curiosity is the... Ц "ts" C?

- liverpool's second team with the help
of Gomez... Origi... Lallana managed to beat
the first team of Everton...
boys vs. men... 18 year olds etc.

- i finally perfected oven cooking
butterfly chicken *******...
temp. at rest? circa 165° farhenheit...
circa 30minutes at 200°C...
the roast tatties looking pretty and smiling
at me with that roastie brown...
etc. etc. - but the juice on those butterfly
*******?
who would have thought that
stuffing the ******* with the skin still intact...
in between the skin and the meat...
a healthy nugget of butter either side...
fresh thyme...
au provence sea-salt (rosemary,
thyme etc.)...
succulent enough to make you forget ever
wetting your appetite for
a chicken thigh... or a drumstick...

- and finally getting what i want...
the mirror vanity project of:
not needing a turkish barber to trim my beard...
finally! i'll admit...
whenever in a barber shop and sitting
in front of a mirror...
i always close my eyes
and let the barber do his work while
i relax...
perhaps the presence of two bodies
in focus on a canvas of mirror is...
well it's not exactly a third party detail...
the subjective experience is beyond
the necessity of being captivating...
i can't focus on my face since
i don't have any compliments for it...
and a barber working his way around
the excess hair that i should,
technically, tend to myself...
i never liked being pampered by
feminine men...
although: a barber can become...
and butcher the whole thing...
then again: feminine men?
the men who cook, are... feminine?
perhaps they're not engineers...
they are not metallurgists...
but... a **** good shave...
a **** good meal, cooked to perfection...
they're no more feminine than
the other definition: the men of aesthetics...

today i became a man of aesthetics with
regards to: how i want my beard trimmed...
i became the gardeners of my own
garden of chin neck and cheeks...
side-burns in tow...
and the evil 'tash...
slim on the sides...
and a bulging uvula of hair dangling from
the chin and its vicinity...
the evil 'tash trimmed so i can sip
some god's blood / ms. amber:
forget god's **** and all that's beer and cider...
fake it making to sit hunched until 1am...
push this over the "finish-line" and
say adios today!

perhaps i once "glorified" laying out a tier
of "help" of the 3Ps...
the priest, the psychiatrist, the *******...
of the last?
well... imagine wandering the labyrinth
of the english outer-suburbia for long
enough... fiddling with bricks
with the tips of your fingers until
either rust or diamonds spark of the scratching...
i would do ever so often...
stroke bricks, harshly...
go up to the oak and fiddle with its coarse
bark etchings...
a week would pass and i would
have my fingertips readied
to bring before me an example
of human flesh...
was it was tender as ******* an oyster?

i needed to revive a compensation
of sensation...

i once made myself visit the barber
after a long repose...
did i find the barbershop experience
more: rivetting... than any experience
bound to a brothel?

england: prostitution is legal!
but owning a brothel... isn't...
if in amsterdam i was given both the freedom
to seek the advice of a *******
and... smoke marijuana freely...
this paranoia-shadow of smoking it in england
would... simply fizzle out...
i wouldn't be some obnoxious ****
trying to get my rocks off with the "gateway drug"...

why did i smoke marijuana?
i simply "don't know"... but of course i do!
it gave me an escape from
being congested with parrot narratives
of the cartesian RES COGITANS...
i experienced...
the most unbelievable due of:
RES VANUS... the empty thing...
no more thinking than if i were dead...
tightrope spectacular...
it would seem that nothing bothered me...
there were no petty social rubrics to be cited
or be bungled into: the sire of sight
before me: and a bending crux knee...

but there came a time when
going to a barber was... so much more than
going to a brothel...
of course: you can't appreciate the one
without the other in making the statement that...
the latter overpowers the former...
nothing of my grew that would have
to be trimmed and tended to...
i wasn't magically circumcised in
a brothel via oral *** to allow me to
enjoy *** more...
and since i can't be circumcised:
this caduceus of protruding veins entwining...
and since ******* is...
at best the closest i come to satisfaction...
and all else is: pretending and...
ensuring the other party is satisfied...

no wonder i would allow myself to showcase
all the possibilities...
before having to retract and state...
petting a cat... getting a haircut and having
my beard trimmed...
but since i can trim my beard...
and if i need a haircut...
i'll be satisfied with the Auschwitz
syphilis crew-cut...
so be it...

barbershop... how can these men sit
and stare at themselves...
it's different when you're doing it solo...
but i rather see the vampire
and nothing before the mirror otherwise...
i would love to see myself: "myself"
on the canvas: 'fairest of them all'
in the snow-white fable mirror...
otherwise there's me looking more
like a ******* over-inflated
pupernickle... pumpernickle that uses yeast...
and this bloated ****-head's face...

but also this barber: this harlequin...
i wouldn't mind sitting before a mirror
in a barber shop... if i could also see
this barber-harlequin doing his aesthetic trimming
on an empty space...
so i tended to close my eyes...
while in the brothel my eyes were also open...
this whole: milan kundera debate
about those who **** with their eyes
open and those who **** with their eyes closed...

still... going to a barber was more
than getting a *******...
she... and i just imagined getting
indigestion from binging on gulping down
raw oysters...
and how many oysters would it take
for her **** to be turned into the taj mahal...

come to think of it...
what is best taken from this spew of words?
no rhyme, no meter...
well... there's that umbrella spontaneity...
isn't there?! that ought to be kept...
in spirit of the times when too much
is made predictable...
when predictabilty is certainly least
warranted...

will there be: the evil of my ways?
oh sure sure... walk into a brothel...
see the Nazgûl waiting in the ante-chamber...
and you ask one of them: which one of you?
and this other replies: that is against the rules...
you have to chose...
******* strapped on... then pulled back...
imitation ***** and: evidently
******* ******* is a bit like ****** *******
in movies...
and you do...
but in the back of your mind...
you have: Solomon and his prayer being answered...
his "wisdom"...
and of course the harem...
and then you have David...
prayer or no prayer... sure-as-**** no prayer
when it came to killing Goliath...
and... David's harem of psalms!

but i'm pretty sure that circumcision should
be... something requiring a man's
permission... baptism shma-anabaptism...
abracadabra-water trickle blah blah *******...
that i can survive...

there's still this 15th century german music to mind!
which goes outside of current,
appreciation of escapist music...
shawshank redemption: mozart...
or jazzy jazzy bleu ooh blue...
there's medieval folk...
there's old christian music that's outside of...
and in the measure of retaining:
the Cramp... the Krampfmuschi...
not this ******* coral singing...
no wonder i'm always depressed...
i'm always depressed when they start to coral...
what sort of achievement is merely being born?!
oh... right... when you have an a posteriori
light ahead of you...
when you don't commit suicide...
instead you decide: nothing more fitting
than a public spectacle...
i will not hang myself in "private"...
i will make sure that my psychological agony
of those around that have instigated it...
will need a spectacle!

carol singing out of my own ***...
he might have survived... i don't doubt it...
in all the icons...
the nails were nailed...
not at the wrists...
not in the tarsus talus region...
if they nailed him by the wrists?
and the tarsus talus (leg foot wrist circa)...
oh yeah! he'd be walking! third day!
but if you have a hole in your:
just above the metacarbal digits?
and how modern t.v. portrays crucifixion?
that... he wouldn't be hanging by nails alone...
that his arms would also be tied with
rope?!
what's next ******* spectacular was
to be awaited?!

whatever the clues:
i have a night to catch...
a night that's deserving of my sleep...
and tomorrow...
will be: tomorrow.
mike Dec 2012
noone has eyes left in this room. i mustve walked in through the wall. tiptoed around the piled-up death, im *****, and marched my smile right into the madness. ill **** any corpse clever enough to not be a corpse...but any corpse will do... with that glazed look from your face filled with dumbness, i wonder what it is youre imagining; to deduce, one must wonder: did ye hast eyes from the birthening??..... cold grey child, id have gone wild on your skin. but now, with fear etched in your brow, youre stretched too thin for it to be sin. with my hooves and my claws i applaud your rotting body torn and clawed. i tare your form from form. and from existence; the never born. enjoying the rhythm of clacking teeth to the tone of your lungs collapsing. im dancing and laughing. prancing and clapping like the little dead girl that im wearing, every stitch is miss-matching.. and yes, your being im crushing, and youre no audience, but still, im blushing; i look smashing. not much of a musician, but ill try to make nice sounds. tips and taps and hums and dee-dee-dee's. clicks and clacks from my tongue.HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! AAAAHHHHHHHH... its so FRIGHTENING!!!! ISNT IT?!! and you like it. it excites you.. it makes nice sounds. so much so your orgasming or convulsing. and your eyes would be rolling in the back of your head if you didnt have gaping holes there instead. that i **** and i fill as your soul escapes and spills out onto the floor; like a snake to its skin: you poor thing, youve shed. the puddle of you left mumbles some useless question with your definite last breath: why? - HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!!!!!! WHY??! ..for i am the cataract in satans left eye while i swiftly sew his right eye shut. to see nothing but the haze of souls to fry every time he decides to look up.... and thus you bubble some sputter and spew with your mouth gaping wide as my tongue laps your hyde. HHHHHH... i steal that last breath from you from inside of your chest as i give you your death. fear freedom you spawnless *****. as i drop a very large stone onto your chest cavity. i give you your death but in death, again and again... you look ravishing. i am the Maddening.
Red Mar 2019
listen to my blood stained breath
feel the thing that lives in my throat
can't you smell my restless death
my sanity took my last lifeboat

I warn of the wasteland inside me
rotting from my outsides in
how is your stare so carefree
you don't know where I've been

Oh my divine master of torment
I do not accept his purity
I refuse to lead him to your decent
I am the tornado to his Dorothy

he dares to stare into the eyes of death
smiling at my sadistic odyssey
the devil has claimed my hope but his halo shall not perish
The waiting land of better days
Just faded away just like that
The fields of righteousness are few
The fields lie in darkness,
After the flame died away,
Loneliness and darkness filled the soul
Drugs and cheep woman and men
That is selling their souls,
Life had no meaning to them you could
See it in their zombie's eyes,
They live in Satans' hotel;
The coldness of their souls is out to take
Another young life into the drug world,
Understanding the ways of the Life of
Darkness and gloom;
Kids are walking around thinking they
Are doing just fine, Just to find their
Mommy and daddy's killing of there
Souls to another blow of the drug pip,
For all that has been spoken of the night
Will **** one's life, If you would walk by
Satan's hotel you could feel the control of
The lost souls; lost in the eternal blackness
And never to be seen again.
Something new has come into another life,
Taking the demons in their mind and a pipe
In their hand; The young and the old under
The control of Satan's world;
Parents looking all over town wondering
How to find their kid then they hear there
Kids learned a new trick,
For the angel of death has arrived in that
The cold sad lonely night when another has
Taken a life,
Broken down of the drug world, Satan's world
When you check in to Satan's Hotel.
The way that they act is no way of coming back
To the way of better days, You can see the evil
In their eyes' an urge to ****, the desire is a thrill
To **** the good in another Soul,
Once upon a time, They had Jehovah in their lives
And walked in the light,
But all of that had changed when they said goodbye
And they let Satan's in their lives by taking the drug pipe,
Dark Angel is all over the place hunting for new souls
To take into their control,
The broke word that, killed dreams of the young and
The old; nobody there forgave sins they just keep making
Them, The Drug fights take a blood bath of the knife,
Behind the walls, you can hear it all,
The cry's of the night when a baby cries to be fed why it's
Mommy is out doing what she knows best,
So now the baby's growing up to be the victim of prostitution
Of preconception and true damnation, the young minds
reaching out into a world that is lost every time,
They can no longer see the twisting emotions
that they live in.
They will be longing for the person they once used to know
But that long ago knew they live in Satan's world.
- Judy Emery © 2013
The Queen Of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
THE QUEEN OF DARKEN DREAMS POETIC JUDY EMERY
Gidgette Oct 2018
I seem to think often of the,
whispers of Angel wings
in the devils ear
late at night,
Pitter patter,
of smokey,
wet, rain drops,
falling
carelessly
upon the late blooming
moon flower vines,
I wonder what secrets,
the wings of Angels
whisper,
into Satans silver ears?
Secrets the rain drops carry,
to the flower vines perhaps?~agb
Ummm.....Hi.;)
Shanath Jul 2017
I THE BLACK

You can have my whole heart and devour it
but not squeeze out a drop of blood.

You will drown in a thirst
as you try to water me.

II THE WHITE

I am not meant to fall in love
I am meant to divide my soul

Among the satans of the world
And turn fire into cosmos.

(I am lost
But I will find my way.)
Edited, I thank Guy Scutellaro for the comment.
simonne Apr 2013
Know anything about Idealism?
it says reality is made up of minds and ideas.
Theres a branch which says
reality is made up of my ideas
but alas I know that cannot be true.
why would I create a world like this
its like I don't exist.
if the world is not some branch of idealism
maybe if it is
these ideas belong to someone else.
maybe a sick sociopath who likes to torture and watch me cry.
But he or she is merciful
so I don't cry every night.
Why put me in a world and make me something thats probably as controversial as the existence of god.
For if you are my creator you would go by a different name
one that would probably put Satans to shame.
A touch that has become poisonous,
A voice blurred by the agony of it's presence,
A feeling that makes you numb,
One long intrustion
A forcful emotion cowering.
It is evil lurking behind the penatrators eyes,
Perhaps he did not feel the squirming,
But maybe he just didn't care,
You hear of things like this but you don't it to come true,
You expect never to run your path by one of Satans dearest friends,
But he is there caressing you
Making your body shiver,
You may not think,
You may not feel,
Your soul is released for the short moments that endtrap you in Hell,
But truly all it is is a hellish reality,
You may not escape unless you are set free,
You cannot leave until the Devils dear friend is done,
You take the brutal and traumatizing moments
And you let them suffocate you,
The memories may always haunt you
But ***** it and the hellish reality that surrounds you.


He's finished and you're free to go.
guess whos back
with that mack attack
bringing real hip hop back
yea still pushin 808s
in the cadillac
old honeys feelin that
vibe once come across the mic
turn em from being a ****
like mike
got the game on lock
6 rings on my pinky
how did i fall out
when i been at the top
creme of the crop
knockin these fake emcees
out the box
rock chatteroxes
n what not?
i dont beef cuz i dont eat it
but the bullets i let feed it
to ya body mind and soul
as i take control
of the industry
every ol school emcee feelin' me
underground true to the sound
yea i been around get around
like pac pack two twins glocks
black. chrome
quick to put any in a funeral home
ya can find me home alone
writing dope ****
got a mansion of counterfeit
bills is print
call it black mint hell sent
govs got me bent
**** the president
there better off with dead resident
still cant get no love
still rockin fresh red cortez
with the honeycomb jersey
ill leave ya beggin like percy for mercy
naw yall gets none
still reiging as the victorious
still game is wack
still rep  pro black
been here and back
yo i never slacked still




still bump dj *****
still wreckin crews
check the news
aint no clues
still my folks gettin robbed
cant get a decent job
still cops harrasssin us
still blastin at us
cant put no trust
in the system justice failed
the evil still prevails
all the religious folks yell
jesus is back
**** it same ol fairytale
never trusted blonde hair n blue eyes
demons in guise
still im on a sneak
put ya to sleep
as ya roll up **** creek
still sittin back n think
wish i could change the world
to better all the young boys n girls
still  got OGs who rock jheri curls
but dont get it twisted
theyll split ya wig can ya dig it
friends of distinction
yall still in detention
need i mention
still they lynching
got every black n hispanic
on the bench and
twenty five to life
still cant get cut with a knife
america pie been done gone
purchased illegally all wrong
they say im wronghow fool?
when society drools?
off desperation starvation
i bring heat to the whole nation
heated like friction
facts no gotdamn fiction
still cant get no love
still lookin' at those above
me r i p to the real homies
and homettes
still you cant see me as i be
in the front
lawn sippin moet
shakin my head
still american pushin slavery
but they tell me to forget
still...


still i got love for the beats
still hang in the streets
spread luv with my peeps
repeat
weekend bar be que
listen to ******* up blues
how can ya not be confused?
woth music these days
the radio plays
nothing but bull to fool
thea masses
i shatter there hearts like broken glasses
class is
in session learned a lesson
in this game ya gotta make a name
instead most go for the fame
lose there souls in the flame
still i got no shame
to put any on blast
still puttin up our past
still we get harrassed
still ****** saggin they pants showin ***
still cant get a pass
in the politics
everybody ridin satans ****
pregnant n ****
no abortions spiritually gone
with snortin they shortin
ya benefits everyday
still tryna make a way
still ignore what they say
still ill stand by what i say
even if it cost me my life today
still.....
Arcassin B Jun 2015
By Arcassin Burnham

Staring through the soul of a static t.v,
Electrical goosebumps,
Flowing up my skin,
With the poverty and different colors,
Hate crimes and disguised Satans,
Generous parents that spoil the rich kids,
Growing up ******* off everyone,
So so,
The World has full of secrets,
All we need is a chamber,
References ****,
And so is my luck,
And everybody else around doesn't give a ****,
Remind me of how many times you've been lied to?
But I swear your just waiting for me to give it up,
Moving on to better things when the time is due,
And what I do , is what the anxiety does,
And when its all done and word gets to you,
Again the worlds full of secrets , don't pend this on us.
See The LTE EP
aviisevil Dec 2015
Stan woke up in confusion, in midst of white almost blinding light,
The last thing he remembered was falling in the lake last night.

Ted was still screaming when he opened his eyes,
A moment ago he was sitting in his car blazing past a red light.


Stan saw ted and whispered in confusion
- " er, where am I ?".

Ted was confused himself but slowly replied
- " I think we've both died"


And at that moment a strange figure emerged from the light,
He had a long beard and was covered in white left and right.

The stranger whispered
- " I am god and I welcome you to the otherside".
He looked at ted
- "follow me my sweet child".


The two of them then walked through what felt like an eternity,
Still confused if what they were witnessing was indeed reality.

They came to a large gate and a deep pit on the ground,
There were rows of cubicles and men with files all around.

God turned to them and said
- " we'll go through your files and send you to heaven or hell "
A chill ran down their spine
- " if you have anything to say in-between, please do tell ".

God cleared his throat
"come forward who ever the hell Stan Bundy is"
Stan took a step and god began
- " you died last night when you got drunk and decided to fish ?.

- "aye, I think so" replied Stan.

God: " you ******' think so, do you think all this is for fun?".

Stan: " I..i don't..er..sir..i mean god.. I was drunk".


God: " whatever, so you are an atheist, Am I right ?"

Stan: " ah..yes.. I mean I was.. Now I am not..that i've seen you from my own eyes. "


God: " later on that but let's check out your profile.. So you have three kids, two dead parents and one wife".

God: " it reads here that you regularly donate to the orphanage"

Stan: " yeah."

God: " you have also helped four hundred and thirty nine people in your life out of pure kindness ".

God: " man O' man, you are directly responsible for bringing fifty two people out of darkness ".

God took a breath and said
- " seems like you are a kind decent man, you respect women, and have equal love for nature and all men ".

God: " ..and you also believe in ..wait..WHAT..equality for homosexuality....! "

Stan: " all men are children of god... I heard that was your philosophy".

God: " .. You think you are really funny don't you, eh punk!
- " i will not answer your question, you can call my attorney, you...you.. Kind little drunk!"


Stan: " but..i..see.."

God: " ENough..step forward ted!"

Ted was scared to death

God: ".. You died while speeding a red light, no kids, two dead parents and a dead wife ".

Ted: " yeah..."

God: " its says here that you killed her but it wasn't proven ".

Ted: " er..god.. You are god.. Don't You know everything "

God: " listen kid, I am far too busy..pardon my french ..to give a **** about you.. And your little things!"

God: " it says here that you were an addict, an abuser, a convict, a murderer and a clown..wait a minute a clown ?"

Ted: " I had a gig with small children"

God: " it says here that you were also a peodaphile.. ".

Ted "..yeah..a peodaphile clown ".

God: " oh that makes sense".

Ted: " but I served my time for the offence"

God: " yeah, yeah.. Whatever..."

God: " you also stole and hurt as many as one thousand two hundred and sixty nine"

Ted: " but I confessed and found you god, I was cleared of my crimes "

God: " by who ?".

Ted: " them priests, who are advocates of you".

God: " oh, I see".

Ted: " I always had faith and I was raised by the holy book "
-".. I hate homosexuality and condemned them as much as I could".


God: " that's impressive".

Ted: " I also despised the ones who don't believe in you, my faith for you is as pure as dew".

God: " yeah, but you have done too much wrong"

Ted:" ..but god.. After I found you I became strong".

Ted: " I was told that all men who believe in you are your children and who don't are satans men, women and children".

God: " I think we should let past be past, you had faith and you found me at last".

Stan: " but.. He is an evil man".

God: " shut the **** up, you don't believe in me..so my laws you won't understand".


Ted: " Stan is a blasphemous pig ".

God: " oh, calm down but I feel you kid"


And so the fate of these two young man was put on hold,
God sent his staff to earth and a survey was done.

The clear majority chose gods law over the rational verdict out cold
And thus in the end it was clear that ted had won.


God went over to Stan and whispered in his ears
- " I am but a mere belief of men, holy books define me and I can't be rational in the end".

And Stan spoke in tears
- " to have no faith but only kindness was what I thought you would always preach,
Even though I didn't believe in you, I always thought this would be what you would teach ".

And ted spoke in fear

- " and I embrace him the way I was told, it isn't my fault that people have made all of this a big joke ".

And thus Stan was cast in hell and ted was made in heaven,
God stared beyond the stars and there was a smile on the face of Satan.


And god whispered to the lonely spaces of the universe..




How a kind man is found ill,
-They speak of it in my will
Faith was never a weapon,
To by used to inflict pain and ****.

I was meant to be,
A guidance to be brave and love
In a world of stones and idols,
My words were used as a curse.

My name is taken in vain,
To spill blood and cut veins
And they seek me when it's done,
So they can be pure again.

I was but to be in thy hearts,
To be found in every face
But instead they found me in books,
Them idols and holy place.

And now I wonder,
who I am ?
Father of my child,
Or king of a man ?.
Pete Marshall Mar 2010
The nails I’d grown

To cultivate

Dug deep & hard

In pallid flesh

I pulled my skin

Across my chest

And felt my ribs

That grasped for breath.



And as I lay

The more I thought

What tastes disturb

Upon my tongue

As teeth bit hard

On anxious flesh

And death recoiled

At what I’d come.



As nerves crept through

My empty veins

I challenged sense

Of earthly realms

Those cries I hear

On silent winds

That sing of death

And thrive in dreams.



Was I the one

That took first bite

Upon your stained

& soiled sheets

And satins touch

Is Satans lust

That spurred us on

In savage feast.



Inside I feel

The acids joy

That courts my soul

And marries minds

As logic flirts

And lures my will

In dance that speaks

Of tales unkind.



To walk in death

With memories lost

As shadows flit

We move in time

And nails that press

And rip my skin

Are needles through

My ravaged arm.



Now gone are days

And gone is slumber

As nights draw in

And waken me

To taste your flesh

Is my desire

And purge myself

Of dignity.
Timothy Mooney Jan 2011
"There is danger in that night
Where shadows swell and steal the light
And strangers stroll the emptied street
With   hooded eye and shushing feet,
Where thieves and brigands skulk about...
Please, my children, don't go out!"

          "Mother! Father!  How you fuss!
             Can't you hear it call to us?
             Can't you hear its music play
             Strange refrains from Far Away?
             Young blood burns to run and leap
             Where shadows crawl and myst'ries creep!"


"Wards of Evil roam the road
Wanderers from Hells abode,
Refugees from Satans gaol'
Wicked banshies shriek and wail!
Here inside it's safe and bright...
Please don't go out in that night!"

             *"But how we yearn to wander there,
                Out into the star-spun air,
                Out where sacred secrets dwell.
                Drink, we must, from moon-kissed well!
                So let us go, let us take flight...
                For we are children of the night."
copyright 2011 T.P. Mooney
Tashea Young Oct 2016
Its Pitch Black, so lonely and cold
There's not a single hand here to hold
Nobody Not Even A soul.
Stuck in the deep dark hole.
But I know My God is Still in Control.
As my head begins to pulsate thanks to my migraine Headache.
Just then I faint upon my intake.
Realzing I'm Unconscious, no longer am I awake
I can feel the firery hate in all the words that Everyone had once spake.
Spiteful words glide ****** my mind slithering like snake from behind.
Satans hoping that I might take the bait so he can unwind.
Feelings of being Mistreated and misused
Being Mentally, Physically, and Emotionally Abused.
The feeling of abandonement after being used
In desparate need of someone to talk to
Sinking without you......
I'm lost.... feeling hopeless.....
Lord I cant even begin to cope with this.
Help me to stay postive and gain back my focus.
Father please dont let my prayers Go unoticed.
Im suffering from this massive Heartache cant you feel my heart beginning to break with each breathe that I take.
But it was my Mistake.
Knowing I had Everything to lose at steak.
Now Im Experiencing my life shaking in an Earthquake.
Forgive me Lord I love you with all my heart and soul. Make me whole and console
I know that My God is still in Control.

I shed so many Tears
Especially within these past few Years
I have faced my biggest Fears.
Suddenly I hear 2 different wishpers in my ears.
Satan: "Girl, Can't you hear?“
God: "Have No Fear For I am Here!"
Satan:" You can't and won't Do this!"
God: In all Of This I am In the midst!
Satan: Throw in the Towel,Give up, Quit!
God: You have me and you Are fully equipped, My Child you can make it.
Because I didn't give up I didn't quit. I fought with grit of the holy spirit. And God protected me from Every blow and hit.
This is a spiritual battle From Within......
As Long as God Is on my Side Satan Can't And won't Win.
Sarah Davis May 2015
While trying  to see how they see...
We put not one more ounce of trust in the troubled world that has forgotten it's true Master.
       We Are some of the few breathtaking creations that God has put upon Mother Earth, and quite frankly, it sickens me to the core, to see some of us being run down repeatedly , due to
       A petty comment that left us broken.  And due to those jealous stares that bore holes into our confidence.
     Because of the scars that were left by someone that didn't  treat us like the great women God made us to be , and instead hurt us  and left us hopeless.
      all people should be treated as it was written in the good Book. Which means treating all women as the queens they are. Because we were created  to be at the Kings' right hand.  Not to be hurt and misused by all the lowlifes of the manipulated earth that God had and still has good intentions for.
      And men. You were to be at the other side of our Saviour. Instead some of you choose to scavenge the earth, for satans camouflaged  scraps smothered in this life's sins, and for what? The satisfaction of Satan's lies and deceit??
That's just a mirage of the heated fumes that sin lets off.
Not really a poem, but came from the heart
Broken Oct 2016
I do not know what tomorrow holds
But I do know Him who holds tomorrow
Therefore I lay aside all anxieties
Every fear and sorrow
Because though they neither sow nor reap
God provides for the sparrow
And I don't have to worry about missing the mark
Because I'm not the archer I'm just the arrow
I'm just the instrument that God chooses to use
As He masterfully conducts His heavenly tune
Therefore satans guilt cannot consume me
And absolutely no credit is ever due me
Because it was He who decided to choose me and use me for His glory
All I have to do is follow He who gave His everything
To see my sin washed clean
Because the sentence that once read "Guilty"
Now reads "Set Free"
So please never address me as the Bruce Lee of poetry
I'm  not the shepherd i'm just a sheep
And if I don't point back in everything to Him who leads me
My words are empty and mean nothing
Therefore I do not preach my own power but that of the cross
I lay down my life, count all as loss
I can simply be the broken warrior that I am
His hands hold this world
And his love scarred those hands
I never have to worry about my performance or plans
I know Him who holds tomorrow
By faith in Him alone I stand
We woke up in  1987   To felled. Trees  and hurricane winds ,
and a  weather forcast  that went down in the annals of infamy .

The spin a doctors. Went to war in the year two thousand and three  ,
as nature awoke from its coldest winter.
As storm clouds and war pigs gathered ,
a killing machines wheels started to turn.
War mungers at number 10 turned young family's  dreams of sunflower fields
Into sodden clumps of blood .
Man now a corpse of pleasure , Godless , unholy , rash ,
Filled with love of self , God haters , lovers of money , wealth and power .
Feasting under a new moon , gorging on raw meat , yet detestable to God ,
Yet flickers by the light of a fire .
Portals of blood flow from their open wounds
, iniquity  lies like a harlot beside them .
Pride is no more than a grizzly bear they have cought and chained to a log of wood .

A statue lies in a thousand pieces ,
Only for them to crawl back into the woodwork , finding nests  in Europe  and the new World .
They are like false teachers
Offering heaven for a song ,
The Christ plus charlatans  
Private jets , God will cure ,
prosperity and healing cures .
So when the wolf has fled ,
and your lying on your bed
And sickness draws takes a bow.
When atheists come a knocking ,
Keep your Bible open , never let it shut ,
Question every spoken word .
For at satans gate lions wait
To pick on the weak and the lame .
Dead meat to the hungry wolf , who smells blood in the heat of the night .
So run with the pack ,never looking back
Fix your eyes on Christ
On him alone .

God Bless X
Book of Jude
Based on 2 Timothy  ch 3,1-9. Olso thanks to paster keithsv talki based on  2 Timothy ch 3
Arran James May 2014
Satans
Jolly symphony
Pounding
Your wealthy head
Together you ask sweet sweetly
How
When
If
She's
Returning
karen dannette Dec 2012
So many times, I have felt what it is like to be hated, to be mistreated.
It doesn’t matter anymore.  So many occurrences of the **** I’ve endured.
But in the end, it doesn’t matter anyway because the end result is always the same.
Hurting others with purpose and thought,  but ****** is such a strong word.

Blessings have been gifted in my life, constant pain still resulting in the loss of  more fake friends.
The thought of his hands on my ****** body making me do things that children shouldn’t do.
I’m over that, so I thought, and then the vision comes back and the memory returns with vengeance.
Funny how memories come rushing back to you in the worst possible time, but I started with the strangest of clues.

emotions turbulent, keeping my mind spinning in an eternal hell filled memory.
I try to give you your space,, but you carry me through all the obstacles
Transient spirits both help to protect me and the dark entities attack from satans command.
And, even with God’s love and guidance, Will never sell my soul for the world, only awaiting his coming.  People’s thoughts are replaced by the scripture that was written so long ago, translated into hundreds of languages.

GOD COMES FIRST - MIND OVER MATTER - LOVE VS HATE - BOUNDARIES - RECOVERY - HOPE
This poem was written with a lot of heartfelt pain.  Its about loss and about hopefulness.  Any feedback is appreciated and thanks for taking the time to read it.
When I stop and think
About all of the death and despair
The only thing that comes to mind
Is that it’s all so unfair
God made all mankind equal
So why does it seem
As though to this story there is no sequel?
Why do we think we are so keen
When all we have become is cruel and mean?
I think it’s crap
Because all of us have fallen directly into Satans trap.
Who are you who thinks he can hide from Him,
What you have done, how you have sinned?
Woe!
Woe unto you sinners and seekers!
Who **** together with the speakers
Of  Satan to proclaim lies against the one True God!
Never on the path of righteousness will he trod!
For the lies of Satan may seem great,
But they are full of loathing and hate,
And are nothing more than bait.
Satan doesn’t have the patience to wait.
For the Truth is right in front of us!
And blinded though we are by our lusts,
Most of us choose,
The Truth to abuse.
For we just don’t care,
To give, share, or be fair.
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2015
it’s saturday night and it’s that time of the week
when all the days disappear into diapers of new births squatting
with umbilical chord necklaces,
i open horace’s book, maxim something then close it:
‘too pedantic,’ i think then say it:
pictoribus atque poetis quidlibet audendi semper fuit aequa potestas,
which means i’m living in england when prog-rock was heaven sent -
where did the englishman disappear to, the 1960’s?!
then comes glasgow with bukowski (i found
him there with ivan karamazov) and i like the fact
that i’m drinking whiskey at 3am
with the neighbour’s kids watching from across the patches of green
while i: drum with my fingers against the collar bone,
weep over singing in german, wear sunglasses to dim the night further.
you know, many lucifers came with the crucifixion of words:
******, stalin, mao... jesus (the jews really took the golden calf
seriously now, although it’s pinned up and
it’s very diabolical to say the least - well d'uh...
        torture for iconoclastic reaping of the knees to bend) -
but few satans - who came with the motto: the silent waters
nibble at the shoreline.
my grandmother said that one, all credit to her,
so about me and the lamentation of singing in german,
a little bit of enlightened thinking: brehta - which in silesian polish
means... he’s laughing... very close to schprehta - he’s talking in a foreign language -
good for commerce.
then i forget the strain and feverishness of lying in bed listening
to the clock tick tick tick...
i stand up and undress myself from the monkey suit worried
about tigers and mammoths and fleas...
i stand up, plug in to the ploughing of sounds, smoke a cigarette,
have a drink... and play with the kids across two garden’s worth of length
pretending to be the madman.
Harry Roberts Oct 2017
Chewed through your aura
Like liquorice All sorts.
I could taste the darkness
But feel the soft places in you.

I could taste light linger
In you.

You say you're plain evil,
Insane and satans reflection.
I just see a hurt human begging
For affection.

Love and direction,
Can lead a horse to water.
But you need to move
And satisfy dry lips with
A sip.

In order to breathe
And find fire in your breath,
To live you can't leave
You've got to find what's left!

The taste of you
Might leave souls blue.
But Behold - Nothing New,
In me resides the taste in you.
Post night shift. Have a good day.
-Taste-  is about energies, life and living with that.
)o(
Mummy looked with Johnny
at the pages of a book before
Johnny went to bed .
Is God really like that Johnny said
an old man with a beard
On a cloud of soft Philadelphia ?
And is the devil have a pointy
Stick and like  ACDC  says
Hell ain't a bad place to be Mummy ?
'. Let's  turn the page and find out "

An Ambulance raced through Ashfords
Streets  with sirens and da da da s .
and on its way past a big red bus
Today you shall be with me in paradise
emblazoned on the side .

The crow landed on the place they called the skull .
and pecked at the rock for a while .
8 " Roman nails  hammered down  into an outstretched hand .
Ahhhh a cry of agony as the nail found blood and wood below . Again the other hand a blood curdling cry ,
the Savior of the world nailed on a cross to die .
I am the way truth life ' he said and suffered for our sin .
The good Shepheard , the gate to all who might enter in .
Yet they mock and scorn the unbeliever in coffee shops
and factory's .
' King of the Jews they say come down come down today ? '
Christ '.
Jesus '.
they cuss and swear ,
Like jeering crowd Barabus call ,
The *** swear and spit .

" Arnt. You afraid of God ? said the theif  who hung next to thee
Today you will be with me in paradise my Savior said to me .

Oh Violinist of Mosul who played on the roof as Daesh advanced  ,
And children of Syria who's  Assads. Chemical bombs dropped ,  for the humble of heart ,
Christ died for thee .
For the Aragant proud ,
Christ weeps ,
and for lost sheep may he never stop searching .
Oh bitter cup of wroth out of my Fathers. hand didst. Poor .
Bread and wine ,
Pass over lamb ,
the first born
A cross on the door .

' Anun Mithaleq '.

Darkness fell  at. noon ,
a mad  cattling hell cried out as
Satans Demons danced  ,
Gods judgment Fell .
Pitch black ,
The earth shook ,
Holy of holys curtain torn ,
And a game of top trumps is played out in the heavens .
And as three hours passed ,
Christ breathed his last ,
Father into thy hands I commit thy spirit .

Oh rotting corpse ,
and linen ties in a tomb you lay .
But Gods trump card has rolled this stone away.
And where a grave of tears and spices sadly once met in death ,
A tomb stone rolled ,
He is not here ,
He has risen an Angel did say ,
Why look for the living amugst. the dead ?
Do you not know the name of the winner ?

Then one day a Farmer came and gave grave news to Amy ,
Her Father had died and by his side a bag of gold and a cross
sold for a penny .
The Gold was sold to build a Church where her Father lay.
And one Easter morn just before dawn she gave her life to thee.

Now underneath an old oak tree a crow lay slowly dying ,
and a Blackbird sung ,
a new days begun .

There you have  it Johonny said mummy now it's time for bed .

Yet in some leafy field of green where Henry Vlll might have
been a stag bellowed .
Anun Mithaleq it is Finnished
Eloi   Eloi. Lama sabachtham   Into thy hands I commit my spirit
Scott Hamsun Feb 2017
Behind the stories of old bad luck,
lay Lucifer and his surrogate beginning to ****.
Draining every swamp of muck,
releasing the morbidly hunted buck.
You married the woman who carries the child,
Satans last son, you are now in denial.
Swallow your pride this is not done in style,
we the people have brought our own trials.

— The End —