"scepter" poems
Hades,
God of the dead
King of the underworld
And all of its shades
The Unseen,
Giver of Wealth
Keeper of the hound Cerberus
Brother, one of a grand trio
With sisters of wonder
The renowned wealthy one
Judge of the dead
Mighty ruler is he
Keeper of mortal souls
Great is he
Upholder of the balance
In the kingdom below
Mortals, how they tremble
At his sheer power
His word is his command
Strong is he, astounding among the gods
God of peace for the deceased
Upholder of funeral rites
Defender of burial rights
Due onto the dead
Regal is he
The all-receiver
Blessed is the abundance
Of wealth he bring
Mysteries of the dark
Oh great one
Whom mortals hold
Both honor and fear
Whom many indeed revere
Divinely dark
Hands upon the earth
Reaching far below
To his realm, his domain
Sacrifices to him,
Offerings to the King
Whom ride in chariot of gold
Drawn by four horses immortal
From his kingdom below
The legends that did grow
Carrier of the scepter
To guide the shades
With his power and mystery
Thousands know his name
The God Hades
- Jay M
October 5th, 2021
Oct 5, 2021
Oct 5, 2021 at 1:28 PM UTC
We are a puzzle with missing parts
That is why we make art
It is a healing start
We are all dream chasers
Until pencil meets eraser
Until boat meets glacier
Reality we must face her
When we sacrifice imagination
For societal integration
We search for placation
In lonely play stations
And through vacation
We experience migration
When the results are doubtful
And the response a drought mold
Because people are skeptical
Until there's a shiny scepter sold
Then you're put on a pedestal
And have your pecker pulled
By various industry tools
Loading you like a mule
With expensive jewels
Art must be the only motive
Not climbing any totem
Because once you're dead
Your art can still be read
Audiences may still be fed
But there's a frivolous influence
So you must be vigilant and prudent
To cut that from your life
So art may be your wife
That works to end strife
Yet that kind of help
You can't put on a shelf
I strive to make my art timeless
Though my pockets are dimeless
We live in a world of depression
That carries the risk of regression
My art could help push past it
Now that would be classic
Nov 18, 2017
Nov 18, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
*Stranded in a car,
Parking lot castaway,
Babylonian sunset,
A star sleeping on regret,
The cold street lights now casting spells,
Down upon a pale face with these eyes painted,
With their shadows*
The rain soldiers are marching in,
They'll crown me with their arrows,
I am the queen of the orphans,
A city for a throne,
And heartless chest for a scepter,
It is rumored that there was a cool of the day,
But it is not found here,
If birds had songs then,
They choke and spit out cruel laughter now,
Therefore the gulls migrated to die on asphalt,
To collect the filth I leave upon the earth,
I have sticky fingers on me you see,
Attached to soggy gloves
**The rats keep eating at my bed,
The rats keep eating at my bed,
The rats keep eating at my bed,**
I cannot sleep tonight,
**The rats keep eating at my bed,
But feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits,
Feed the rabbits**,
The Commercialized Army is pressing in,
Following the systematic skein of procedure,
**Knit the net,
Produce,
Consume,
Expire,
Produce,
Consume,
Expire,
Knit the net,
Catch me,
Catch me,
Catch me,
Knit the net**
I shouldn't be here
Where can I find it?
I shouldn't be here
Where can I find it?
Will I stop myself?
I shouldn't be here
Where can I find it?
Will I stop myself?
Time moves too slow
I shouldn't be here,
Where can I find it?
Will I stop myself?
Time moves too slow
I shouldn't be-
And The Sun Goes
Down,
In,
My,
Brown,
Eyes,
Twilight fixation,
The orange star sleeps in the smog,
My mind in its fog,
Here comes the pale ghost eye,
Peaking through his veil,
Midnight fixation,
Staring down,
On my brown eye island
Where I washed ashore
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 12:44 AM UTC
As I scale the slope
I note the melody of the wind
With its sweeping symphonic shifts
My nails grind against granite
Before flaking and falling into the abyss
Yet I persist
Upward along the lone path
Where the air recedes like tides
And frost forms fellowship upon my eyes
Before seeking to turn my sore limbs, frigid
Icily assuring each ache is anchored in anxiety
Which stems from the worn clothes of society
Yet as I climb, the fabric is discarded
Like old styles of yesteryear
Now basking in all my naturalness
I finally summit, my thoughts thankfully descend
My heart lifts up its scepter and then my chin
Beating with Brilliance it grins
Furls up it sleeves and wordlessly begins
The work of healing from within
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
She sits by darkened hearth
No warmth now issues forth
Her tattered clothes look more like rags than a dress
But still she carries on
Even when hope is gone
For a princess is a princess nonetheless
If dancing at the ball
Or scrubbing floor and wall
In scullery or in carriage for a ride
Hanging linen out to dry
Or set on throne most high
None of that can ever change what is inside
For it’s not silken gown
Not scepter, sword, or crown
Nor poise to rule court with great ability
Look closer and you’ll find
A heart that’s good and kind
Are the signs of grace and true nobility
Of palaces she dreams
White horses matched in teams
With jewels agleam and in its place each tress
Though life may be unjust
She is regal in the dust
For a princess is a princess nonetheless
Jul 19, 2022
Jul 19, 2022 at 10:26 PM UTC
I'm sure you're all disappointed.
I am the prince charming
you grew up hearing about.
But I'm not perfect,
I'm not royal,
I'm not handsome.
I'm noble,
yes.
But nobility gets you nowhere.
I'm sure someone blew things out of proportion.
I am flawed.
I am poor.
I am ugly.
The closest I get to a royal decree,
is raising my pen or pencil in hand,
like a scepter,
in triumph of an accomplishment,
either in word or in art.
I am ugly.
I am poor.
I am flawed.
I am the prince charming
you grew up hearing about.
And I'm sure you're all disappointed.
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 3:17 PM UTC
Pharaoh Tutankhamun graced the Egyptian throne,
A ***** brisk and spry.
From his majestical hands, dangled a scepter
And on his handsome head, sat a crown.
His empire was at its peak
For he wielded influence all over africa.
The bearded Europeans and nubianS sought his protection
For egypt, was a haven.
So organised was the land:
Amun-re and maat protected the people,
The country grew with the help of viziers.
Agriculture was a noble profession in the land,
As her economic markets were the best in the world
Egypt gave light to Greece and Mesopotamia
For her civilisation altered many a life.
And also, was the birth place of man
Such, was the land of egypt
The middle ages stroke and Europe went to sleep
But mama africa gave birth to many strong children:
Ghana, Mali, Songhai and many more
These children shoke the world with their riches and organisation.
Such was the history that africa recorded before they came.
Fredriech Hegel in want of speech said:
“Africa never had a history before the whites came.”
Such a mediocre declaration from an illiterate
For in place of his brain, graced a kidney.
Africa was well civilised before the bearded people came:
We had a religion
We had education as seen in egypt
We had a well organised system in all aspects.
We had everything needed for prosperity,
We attracted them with our gold, thus they came.
But most of all, we believed in equality.
Such was africa before they came
But when the bearded people came,
They altered our ways and put us in stocks
Then said: “we had no history.”
Oblivious that africa had made history,
BEFORE
AND BEFORE
THE
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
Spanish
El ancla de oro canta…la vela azul asciende
Como el ala de un sueño abierta al nuevo día.
Partamos, musa mía!
Ante lo prora alegre un bello mar se extiende.
En el oriente claro como un cristal, esplende
El fanal sonrosado de Aurora. Fantasía
Estrena un raro traje lleno de pedrería
para vagar brillante por las olas.
Ya tiende
La vela azul a Eolo su oriflama de raso…
El momento supremo!…Yo me estremezco; acaso
Sueño lo que me aguarda en los mundos no vistos!…
Acaso un fresco ramo de laureles fragantes,
El toison reluciente, el cetro de diamantes,
El naufragio o la eterna corona de los Cristos?…
English
The golden anchor beckons, the blue sail rises
Like the wing of a dream unfolding to a new day.
Let us depart, my muse!
Beyond an anxious prow, the sea stretches itself out.
In the crystal clear East, Aurora's
Blushed beacon shines. Fantasy
Is donning a rare garment of gems
To wander brilliantly over the waves.
The blue sail
Unfolds its private oriflamme to ******
The supreme moment!…I tremble: do I know–
Oh God!–what awaits me in unseen worlds?
Perhaps a freshly picked bouquet of fragrant laurels,
The golden fleece, a diamond scepter,
A shipwreck, or the eternal crown of the Anointed Ones?…
3.2k
~
*When Pharaoh
checked out at the Red Sea,
odd circumstance made a grab for his vacant scepter,
and kingdom collided
with plague to paint a mural
on the palace wall (or maybe, it was the hotel lobby),
of a dreamer's garden,
his wife in veils, her dance a cordial
invitation to a great many unmentionable things,
the feral sky had blown
itself out, and in muted candle
nightshade, the mistress of war disembarked,
and so somewhere
in those upper rooms, ruler
and consort, hearing the sound of running water,
mystified their carnal
senses by infusing themselves
with a little vigorous morphine of the soul*
~
Jul 26, 2021
Jul 26, 2021 at 2:45 PM UTC
We revere our ancestors
Becoming their protectors
Because they're remembered
With a golden scepter
Yet they're only infectors
Through outdated lectures
If you examine history
It doesn't take too long
To unravel the mystery
Our ancestors were wrong
They sing a siren's song
Of tradition
As redundant repetition
They sing a tribal hymn
Of societal sin
That fools fall in
Until we're walled in
If you want to meet our ancestors
Go to North Sentinel Island
They'll turn you into a rejector
Or **** you where you stand
The last island of savages
It's barely inhabited
Due to its low population
And the fact that its inhabitants are barely people
There's further obfuscation
When they can't differentiate between good and evil
Two fishermen drifted toward the village
Not to ****** and pillage
They had haphazardly fallen asleep
And temporarily lost control
They couldn't hear their worried fleet
Or the natives on patrol
They were turned into the dearly departed
Because these savages are basically ********
No justice was found for those men
They were killed by a protected people
Why are we protecting them then
If mere contact will always be lethal?
We love our ancestors so much we let them ****** us
Yet these are the same people that have inserted us
Into this cycle of violence
And now they're dead
The only relief is their silence
Their ideas we must shed
Feb 21, 2018
Feb 21, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
High ground
I concede to you
in the disproportion of a time allotted to you
for the choice of robe to grace
a glorified cameo around your flesh
like a sheet designated for an overthrowing
in an honorary statue's unveiling
Liturgy is looming in the bathroom
already hot-boxed in the metal waterfall's
mist of moisture and the mountain range of bubbles
I have settled comfortably into in wait
High ground
awaits your hallowed prance
into the concealed languish of your man's
dangling imagination
I salute you with incentive
through a lowering of eyes made necessary
by your towering above my horizontal soak
I'm beseeching you to wield royal sway
over the humility of my reclined posture
with the hidden scepter of your body
fated to dictate the pace of my
anticipated knighting
The gentle thud of fabric on linoleum
incites a turning of my head to take in
the litany of parts available to my
frenetic feels and jumbled focus
Stationary in your naked smile of proximity
you extend to me excessive time to entertain options
as I coat myself in lukewarm opportunities
and rise to meet you for a bathing in my excess wetness
I accelerate my exit to negate the bubbled tribuataries
sliding to the floor to meet the remnants of your mystery
The wall is cold and you protrude
haplessly to meet the rapid chilling of my undried frame
Warmth is of the essence
Fingers split your hair in celebration
of our uniform heights and I feel you slouch
signalling our first hint of friction
and a twitch in my diviner of your cradle of essential warmth
Do you realize you now rescind creative license?
Or have you filled the snare of your intentions?
Now your balance shivers in the mercy
of my curled leg of leverage
and an coiled arm collecting your ambrosial attributes
like an ice cream scoop
Uniform heights allowing eye contact
makes optional the visual acknowledgment
of my elastic hunting in the smooth field of your breast
with a dancing thumb
I connect and latch onto what is now
our binding axis and shuffle eye contact
with the universal rhythm of a pelvic power ballad
Apr 25, 2014
Apr 25, 2014 at 10:54 PM UTC
Bright child of the Tarot, a new age awaits you –
but not through the mazes you’re wandering in.
Your gypsy desire and clairvoyant excursions
are setting your beautiful brain all a-spin.
The dog at the precipice barks out a warning:
the FOOL, the MAGICIAN and PRIESTESS are wrong
Pay no heed to their signs and the omens around you –
let faith be your shield when the DEVIL seems strong.
JUSTICE, as blind as the HERMIT is *****
has seen that our TOWER is stricken and doomed.
The SUN, MOON and STARS in their orbits bear witness
as LOVERS in ******* to DEATH are consumed…
Egypt can’t help you – the CHARIOT‘s stalled
While the TEMPERANCE angel was mixing the drinks.
The EMPRESS (a tedious feminist) preaches
an upside down future, the HANGED MAN thinks…
Though the WHEEL almost crushes you turning this way
And the staff of correction has battered you hard
I am sure you will make it, if only you pray
to the sovereign elector who holds every card
for a ray of redemption to light up your way.
Let the major arcana now bow and acknowledge
as JUDGMENT is sounded and shatters the sky
that righteous and just is the blessed Redeemer
who loves every lunatic card-addled dreamer
like you and like me. Therefore hear as I cry
that the WORLD in its fulness can’t harbor His love –
nor the heavens within nor without nor above…
May the HIEROPHANT‘s dynasty wither away
and the EMPEROR‘s scepter be broken to shards
as the breath of God’s Spirit comes into our world
to reveal the true STRENGTH of your house made of cards.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
Ötzi
Even in my long sleep,
I dreamed of this.
A waking by strangers
A grasping of my wrist
And I wrench it back from them!
My dreams beneath the ice
Were warm, in summer vales,
Where children played
Under my watch, old but hale.
An easy thing, my guard was then.
I tend sore limbs as supper warms,
And aching joints inflamed,
And muscles tough as ibex horn;
For a while I can be lame.
And see my copper ax in the red-gold flame.
I dream of how it came to me,
After vanquishing a headsman.
Intruders fell before me!
And I earned this talisman.
Weapon, scepter, power of my clan!
Then I was sent across the mountain,
A lone journey I knew well.
To trade with kinsmen in a the northern glen,
With gifts, arrow shafts and tales to tell,
Never guessing betrayal that walked behind.
Alone upon the highest peak
I ate my last meal by the fire.
To me the gods seemed trying to speak,
As men I knew climbed higher.
We had words, but they were my kin!
In my long sleep I wonder why
These false friends turned to hate.
I’d watched over them, yet they cried
That my rule was done, and it was too late,
So I turned from them and faced my doom.
I crossed the last protruding rock
And now felt safe from them.
But then a blow, beneath my heart: a shock!
I fell in a soft, snowy glen,
And then a dull pain in my skull…and black.
Beneath me, I can feel the ax;
They’d never take that from me!
Nor my arrows, quivers and packs;
And risk the fury of the gods.
They’d taken my power and left a naked soul.
Five-thousand years I spent beneath the frost,
Until I was found and freed.
My scattered ions watched, angry and lost.
They dragged my body from its bed
And my soul from another life.
Now part of me lies in a crypt
Another frozen tomb.
If only I hadn’t run and slipped,
All those ages ago,
I would now lie in sacred ground,
Back in the earth to which all are bound.
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 10:16 AM UTC
Elegant necklaces never hugged her soft neck
Fingers were never adorned by fancy rings
A crown never rested on top of her hand
But, regal was she
A frame which never nestled on a velvet throne
Hands never touched a sacred scepter
The finest fabrics never worshipped her skin
But, regal was she
Her feet never walked on a grand castle
Never had the servants, soldiers, countrymen bowed in her presence
A name never honored by anyone
But, regal was she
Dressed in homely clothes
Immaculate beauty concealed by the dark
An existence made from gold
She was the queen of my heart
If they only knew.
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:54 AM UTC
Of perpetual sadness
It is my closet and dearest companion
Speckled writhing snakes of madness
Melancholies gold jeweled scepter
A dark gaunt haunting specter I am
Walking hand in hand with betrayal
The confidant of love
Welcome to my world of voluntary isolation
Playing hide and seek with trepidation
I do not speak
For my mind racing at speeds beyond comprehension
Of these thoughts, I shall make no mention
For they will shatter your beliefs and offend your senses
Welcome to my world
Where sulfur smelling whispering shadows abound
Death hovers round rings of on destiny of his fingers
Waiting watching
Silent patient and knowing
I am a rare painting of violence
Rendered by a greedy vicious hand
Created by a monster who dances behind a smile
That cannot be destroyed
Welcome to my world.
All Rights Reserved @ Tammy M. Darby Sept. 13, 2014.
All Material Stored in Author base
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 1:08 PM UTC
Dedicated To My Loving Daughter SUZANNA CHRISTY
On her 12th Birthday (08/09/2015)
Days rolled on; moments of time trotted; Waters changed shapes;
She walked with His Grace; smiled with His Mercy; grown with His Love.
Eleven nautical miles she hath crossed; might be twisted with ebbs and tides;
Yet His provident Arms have carried her in tender and glorious ways.
I see her seated on the banks of the stately throne with scepter of innocence,
My heart is thrilled with her mother’s heart of her child-like majesty
Envisaged across the firmament with the rainbow colours within.
Each of the rainbow shade dappled with Heaven’s Glory to glow.
I have drawn her in the sky of my fancy with figures of speech in colours,
She hath become a poem in my kingdom of poetry in pageantry.
We’ve been dreaming of her splendor glowing in His Presence
And pray unto Him no blemish shall taint her soul till the day.
My heart perceived sweet smiles on her lips translated from her within:
Every smile is His Blessing showered on her heart - gratitude to HIM.
We planted a garden and ‘ve grown the seed of godliness to grow like His Son,
Our hearts rejoice in the growth of the seed beside the sweet flow of His Love.
She hath grown through lightning, storms, showers and withstood with His Grace,
She’s been God’s Gift’ conferred on us late but in His time mystifying to mankind.
It hath been His Eternal episode that she ought to be in our arms crawl.
And God’s Gift is in His Image to grow in His Shade and fly under His Wings.
We are instruments to lead her in the way of Eternity, and her soul is precious to Him.
All have souls and all have Eternity, and have to choose His Son hung on the Cross;
Yet earthly affinity hath no role to play in His Kingdom, for He is Spirit,
And all His children ought to have His Image ever to reign in His Glory.
We perceive Truth of Eternity on her child-like countenance each day.
She hath stepped on the twelfth way of life and hath years to walk through.
Our prayer unto Him is His Providence be showered on her soul till the time.
She hath awakened us to share the Truth of Eternity in my simple verse.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 5:24 AM UTC
Shy cup of Latte 🍵
Shy cup of Latte, savor of mine
Sat with ease as unto a regal saucer--
Upon my heart's amber throne
Hearth to a grandeur sublime
That trembles the first bright gleamer,
Of the early morning sun.
Portions enchanting proceed--
From your pearl purple scepter
Bade on high,
Onto lofty summits of lovesome regard,
To reign my walls for ages untold,
As Empress to a citadel ever yours
Violet petals doth my path carpet
Gracing my careful fervor stroll--
Onwards,
Upward
To the edge of your sweet repose,
By the smooth rims, encircling
Your gently steaming streams of splendid love
In a bid to peck a sip so healing--
Kiss your froth in heartly devotion
As unto a ring queenly royal,
Of she whom upon my love delights,
Let mine soul be merry in this stead,
With its essence to joy in this blessing
Ringing spurts of gratitude--
and whispers of promise
I sound in chime to myself
"I, then --
Be an endless song
To which I ever call for her hand in dance."
She, then --
Be my heaven-vested cistern
My shy cup of latte
A fountain cup so sweet
It never ceases to pour.
Nov 22, 2020
Nov 22, 2020 at 5:06 PM UTC
God is very generous
He gives to those who seek
He resists the proud & arrogant
And undergirds the meek
He puts to shame the strong of mind
Gives wisdom to the weak
God is very merciful
He helps the poor & lowly
But He is not like Santa Claus
He will give, but slowly
He will not prosper greediness
For God is pure & holy
God is very fair & just
He protects downtrodden
He will not help the vengeful man
Who wants to **** and plots them
He will repay the evil one
For wickedness he's brought them!
God is of a lowly heart
He came to earth a slave
To His Father's every wish
To be murdered by the knave
Innocent of everything
They put Him in the grave
God is Truth & Righteousness
He won't bend to our whim
He won't wink his eyes for wickedness
Or rubber-stamp our sin
He helps those who want to change
And give them strength to win
For God is strong and mighty
He's not for the high-born
Three lepers ran off multitudes
He defeats who He has sworn
He gave David polished stones
To slay the Philistine
God is patiently in love
With those of slower pace
He lets them fall, then picks them up
He does not turn His face
Does not regard color or creed
Adores the human race
He suffered the crown of THORNS
He came to share His Grace
God is the total Ruler
The holy angels sing
Around His throne and scepter
On their glorious wings
He's due praise & honor
For HE is our KING!
SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/24/2016
Jun 24, 2016
Jun 24, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
vague games enable and our liturgies co-mingle in an inkling of the I.
your mind succumbs to the soul. the rabid rain is ironic and the font you spell ' god ' with
is all scrawl and scrumptious. you lump this dream into your dolphin of Delphi
and squeak cute symphonies of deep brood.
you choose your Oblivion.
and that's how Angels kiss. they force the Word through your Animus
and greet your weakness with squinty eyes and Lion's breath.
you're the next best thing since that one thing that had no soul for god to play with.
it never complained. you might look and you might not see
what you're not supposed too. but i know you'll be happy with lemon-drops
and long dark naps.
that's how we do,
like a crispy pillow is a cloud with a lobotomy
and all my barbed wire is wine.
Like i'm the king of unbearable sublime. you anoint the fallen. i spike the punch, judy. you sunshine.
eulogies wet the pavement. darth mauls
the halls of our peril
and the dry
sparrows
you had no love but you had a thing that went thump
when you met her. and some other cocka-mamy thing.
and your narrow view
of the wide ha ha and the mute " **** this "
and why not?
we're all caught in the same frame and the gorgons are massive. you have to elect a hero to laugh at Death with and might get a girl.
you're nothing at all and that infuriates the reality you were dreamt with. you have no kin, but your family hasn't been.... you were unhinged
from the stark grim and the tide pool. why do you think i say things that ain't been language but has always been lingua nova ?
why would i lie ? this is the scepter of the vengeful design and the glee demons of first love sipping from a chalice of lost love
with closed eyes. this is the pier and the ocean. the dime store Picasso hanging the velvet Elvis with the perfect circles
with the little
cube inside...
aching for flamingos.
or not.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 8:09 AM UTC
I am but a leech, desecrating in lilly glossed waters;
Clotting beautiful beads, like bracelets, across wet flesh.
Desire is a horseman in this world, coming to close the curtains on the day.
Why stop? For lashes from the scepter that was to guide us?
Fractured and rotten; yet we still cling for a taste of a crumb of the life once held within it's dead trunk.
Death. But an old friend and a forgotten enemy greedily tickling this slicken frame.
Fingers float tempting whispers to my every nerve and I long for my senses to set ablaze in those writhing clutches
Screaming from inside for release that teases and tingles like the ****** that never comes. Shaken and slightly shrunken
Light blazes at the doors, searing and scorching the very flesh that holds a withered frame
No longer seeking escape,
I slither back to the darkness I seem to have forgotten was home once before
Jul 9, 2022
Jul 9, 2022 at 7:07 AM UTC
Be the ice in the wind
And the wind in the trees
And the dreams in the world
And the world in the breeze
Say the raven to the crow
Be what raven he may be
For the crow is to the raven
What the raven is to me
Be the might among the fallen
Be the song within the leaves
Rise above the earthen calling
Be what river sings with thee
Say the raven to the crow
Be what raven he may be
For the crow is to the raven
What the raven is to me
Be the eyes upon the scepter
Be the sword upon the wings
Be the hope among the people
When they cannot trust their king
Say the raven to the crow
Be what raven he may be
For the crow is to the raven
What the raven is to me
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 8:33 AM UTC
You cannot press the page as if you are trying to tattoo meaning onto it. People so often forget the words as supposed to do that for you, ink askew, words committing Hari Kari ***** nilly as they derail into one another, meaning unintelligible as the point of the modern day history channel programming schedule. It is a varsity track jacket for the masses, mass produced for those unable to sew it themselves or earn it through bestowed prowess. Even national bestsellers are written in pencil these days, and before their sentence is pronounced, the verdict has been erased by the side palm of our ever-loving adhd. The thinly split nib, the exposed *** crack of a wayward genius is mocked until covered, no longer ******** the stuff of sanity, and as a result the fools rule literature with a tin scepter of complacency.
Jan 13, 2013
Jan 13, 2013 at 8:45 AM UTC
(A Psalm of Declaration: the sovereignty
of God.)
From everlasting to everlasting,
Behold—I am God.
I've created mankind
From the dusty sod.
There is no disparity
Nor variance with me.
In truth, as I am—
I shall forever be
Alpha and Omega—
The first and last.
The dawn and scope
Of ages past.
There is none like me,
And my decree shall be.
I declare all things;
There is none like me.
I am self-existing:
For I alone am God
Who rules the powers that be
With the scepter and rod.
I, Jehovah, never change.
And tho' the heavens sever—
I the Lord am the same
Yesterday and forever.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 12:27 AM UTC
Message turned around to speak in her Coronation dress.
The Alliance Project slyly walked up beside her, and wished her the best.
She smiled weakly and said, I wish my father The Legate was here.
Her lower lip trembled as she wiped away from her face a tear.
Message held up her hands and said, I promised myself I would not cry.
The Alliance Project said, His advice-essence is in the Scepter, he did not die.
Besides, he would be proud to see you restored his planet back to its origin.
They kissed briefly and Message said, Let’s go downstairs to the Coronation.
Inside was a great hall, where all of the Federation had gathered to meet.
The Covenantial Project was to crown Message, by putting the Rexic shoes on her feet.
Message sat down on the throne and got up rapidly sayin, This throne is too cold!
Lady of the Night called out in the audience, Be prepared for it to warm, before you get old.
Message took the scepter in hand and recited the Federation pledge.
And then kneeled down, as The Covenantial Project took Excalibur and touched her with its edge.
She got up and the Federation crowd all cheered, because here was their new queen.
The Covenantial Project put the Rexic shoes on her feet, and Message stood to preen.
The Alliance Project and Message boarded the Isotrain Mechanism one last time, to head for their new home planet object
This planet is the new Dahomeyia, whose people were protected by Message and the Alliance Project.
THE END.
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 3:18 PM UTC