"searingly" poems
Rest in this, my bruised and weary soul:
I was a wretch, chosen to be a beauty;
a slave, chosen to be a bride;
an orphan, chosen to be an heir;
an enemy, chosen to be a friend.
I deserved nothing but wrath and death
yet received everything of life and grace.
I am loved beyond any dreaming of it
and blessed above all worldly wealth.
I have the incomparable birthright of those
whose Father is God and whose Lord is Jesus Christ—
righteousness from Him and peace with Him.
I am a cherished gift from the Father to the Son.
I was paid for by the Son’s own blood
and am "engraved on the palms of His hands."
I am the living temple of God’s Holy Spirit
Who empowers me to do His pleasure and bring Him glory.
I am the LORD's, chosen and set apart for His delight.
***What more could I ask?
But that's only the beginning...***
I will live as blessed as I believe myself to already be,
for "I have been blessed in the heavenly realms
with every spiritual blessing in Christ,"
"given everything I need for life and godliness"
through knowing Him and His precious promises,
"an inheritance that can never perish, spoil or fade—
kept [securely and eternally] in heaven" for me.
I've been "raised up and seated with Christ";
my "life is hidden with Him" in the Father,
and "He will fill me with joy in His presence,
with eternal pleasures at His right hand."
Oh, that "the eyes of my heart would be enlightened
with the spirit of wisdom and revelation"
to see what’s already been prepared and given to me
and to know much more fully the One Who has
so meticulously prepared and lavishly given it.
As I walk intimately with Him and rest confidently in Him
(based only on His merits, never my own),
I am given free access to my account
in His heavenly storehouse and enabled to appropriate
its glorious riches to every circumstance of my life,
even the most searingly painful and confoundingly difficult ones.
I have a spiritual Fort Knox available to me
through knowing Christ Jesus my Lord,
but He Himself is my greatest treasure.
Without Him, nothing else matters.
Nothing else has meaning if I am not found in Him,
clinging to Him and carried by Him.
When I finally become desperate for Him alone,
I begin to understand the profound reality
of all He desires for me and offers to me
in my spiritual inheritance in Him.
There are infinite presents to be unwrapped
in His presence which cannot be told
in human words or comprehended by mortal minds,
but they wait to be taken hold of by
any and all who would take hold of Him.
***For He gives and gives and gives and gives,
and even when He takes, He gives.***#
Jul 28, 2017
Jul 28, 2017 at 3:22 AM UTC
Post-azure, cloud splashed sky,
washes with the suns descent,
breaking into melodies of sunset.
Fracturing into a blush,
the richness of the spectrum
makes itself known.
On a tangent of change,
amorphous clouds bleed
amber glow
and bittersweet combinations
of reds and yellows.
Vermillion streaks through,
and a few cloud folk turn titian,
like sumptuous surreal apricots
rotting in the sky,
that seem to augur
encroaching darkness.
Billows on the horizon
leak crimson,
like spilled wine on table cloth,
and pucker out
like blooms of flaming roses.
Fire refracted
coloured cousins of the sun
are dancing all about.
Here is the anthem
of wild transformation.
Here is cause
for quiet celebration.
Here at this fluent juncture.
Here at the closing of day.
The whole of the ocean below,
is the skies tremendous mirror.
It's reflection is variegated,
into variations a thousandfold.
Multitudinous, and ever differentiated,
distortions of above
ride the crests of waves.
Each apex is a new story.
Each new story,
just as soon as it is told,
comes crashing into trough.
Each finale is the ****** of beginning.
The dynamic roar
of the oceans ever-changing topology
is rife with meaning.
Colossal symphonic wonders,
the primordial song,
releasing upon: the uni-
verse continual,
sending the manifest
to move, with the give and strain
of immaculate design.
Here ensconced
between the safety of light
and the mystery of night.
Here at the oceans edge.
Above, shades of catalina-blue, in conversation
with the outer most cosmic-black
dismiss earlier brighter hues.
Tinged by the infinite nature of space,
the jeweled dome darkens.
Overhead, the first stars appear,
sky transparent to beheld blackness.
Luxuriant, pulling horizon, attracts
violet into it's unfolding theatrics.
Bloodied clouds turn purplish, then black,
a darkening rawness allures,
decaying with vivid beauty,
tragedies of a rouged romance
drug down into shadows play,
searingly alive, extraordinarily actual.
And then, the hush of dusk.
Darkness is felled, like silence.
Scintillating stars
strengthen in the nights
surrounding abyss;
giving radiance definition.
Dynamic Beauty
Lives In Transition,
Oppositions
Compliment.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 9:49 PM UTC
cicadas thrummed all day
as the sun searingly shone
their drumming beat abated
when the cool breeze came
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
How could I not— know . . .
See the noncut of soaring eyes,
Approach, moist, ****** and tidal,
Waves so searingly laden with tear,
Flame, forged in some mythic winter
Frozen as I was, before the rush of ice
And flows of glacier, I heard the loudest
Break of open silence in the seep and roar
Of depths' deepest, dark, coldest ocean waters,
. . . Before sweet suffocations of the very colour
White and saw the dim fates of fade, emergence of blue,
Hearts drowning.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 8:52 PM UTC
you're standing there...
if waiting were a statue,
and night sudden release.
i slide up behind you--
take a fistful of hair and
drape it over your shoulder.
press my lips to the back of
your neck, and ask with searingly
hot breath: do you know what
you've done?
you throw your head back as if
being impaled...you always knew
i was there.
i snake bite your listening ear--
for the Shakti of my poetry to enter...
and never exit.
do you know what you've done?
this is cosmic...and twin the flame.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC
I do not love you in the most common sense of the word.
I do not love you softly with doe eyes and tender kisses.
I do not love you bravely, for there is nothing brave in my actions or words to you.
I do not love you kindly or sweetly, gently or patiently, considerately or reservedly.
I love you like a storm was loosed on my entire being from my first glimpse of you.
I love you like a match loves to be struck, or like a nail loves a hammer.
I love you like a page loves being scarred by the ink of a pen,
and I love you like a pick loves being scraped across old strings over and over again.
I love you violently, and entirely. But, most of all, secretly.
I love you scorchingly and searingly, as if all the pretty words you've ever bestowed upon me were mere kindling.
I love you like an atom must love the universe, a thing by the grace of which it exists, but a thing also which it couldn't possibly ever grasp.
I love you behind my heart and behind my eyes, to shield such a vulnerable thing from the corrosion and harsh grinding of the world.
I love you brokenly, and bitterly, and for always, because I will not admit to loving you at all.
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 6:03 PM UTC
the countryside is covered
in a blanket of smoke
bush fires are burning
around the Guy Fawk's spoke
some thirty thousand hectares
of land has been fried
farms and parts of the national park
burnt from side to side
fire authorities are working
day and night
to encircle the flames and embers
which so searingly bite
slowly they are winning
the protracted war against the flares
their fire fighting equipment
quelling the inferno's chilling nightmare
within the next few days
the fire shall be extinguished and put out
then the countryside wont be covered
in the smokes choking tout
the air will be as clear as a bell
and less smokiness will stand
all the ashes in the bushland
shall bear testament to the fire's brand
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC
summer
searingly hot
beads of sweat
scorching sun oppresses
roasting
autumn
leaves change
birds start migrating
a time of recess
pensive
winter
snow falls
white across landscape
encased in great coldness
gelid
spring
vivid colors
vivacious garden bed
everything comes to life
brilliant
Jun 25, 2013
Jun 25, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
How could I not— know . . .
See the noncut of soaring eyes,
Approach, moist, ****** and tidal,
Waves so searingly laden with tear,
Flame, forged in some mythic winter
Frozen as I was, before the rush of ice
And flows of glacier, I heard the loudest
Break of open silence in the seep and roar
Of depths' deepest, dark, coldest ocean waters,
. . . Before sweet suffocations of the very colour
White and saw the dim fates of fade, emergence of blue,
Hearts drowning.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 2:21 PM UTC
the countryside is covered
in a blanket of smoke
bush fires are burning
in and around the Rhynie spoke
some thirty thousand hectares
of land have been fried
farms and parts of the National Park
burnt from side to side
the fire authorities are working
by day and by night
to encircle the flames and embers
which so searingly bite
slowly they are winning
the protracted war against the flares
their fire fighting equipment
quelling the inferno's nigthmare
within the next few days the fire
shall be extinguished and put out
then the countryside wont be covered
in the smoke's thick tout
the air will be as clear as a bell
and less haziness shall stand
the ashes in the bushland
shall bear testament to the fire's brand
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 8:50 PM UTC
Sometimes when I look at you
You are just a girl.
Just a girl, with flaws and dreams and...
Sometimes you're just you,
Nothing dire.
And when you touch me I feel only the comfort
Of another human being's fingertips.
But then sometimes
When I look at you
I love the muscles in your back that look like wings could unfold from them,
That tense like a panther's when you walk,
And the curve of your jaw, the way it's shadowed in the light,
And I get fascinated by the way your lips move when you speak.
And when you touch me you leave scorch marks
In the shape of your hands
And I am searingly cold inside
And I only want you to burn the sadness out of me
Inch by inch.
I don't understand how you can be both.
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 10:26 PM UTC
*“But nobody really cares about how a poem has done! The only thing worth talking about is
what is the next poem”*
<>
how brief are these pleasures
that are oft tendered to our senses,
sunrise, sunset, eclipses
all ****** too quick,
yes,
a slow read, a leisurely walk amid
the bombast of colors falling extraordinaire
even the denuded trees
are blinked away too easy,
even though they longer linger,
our body clocks knowingly admits
that even the still of snow covered lands
or the blanketing grating grays
of a Midwest Great Lakes winter sky
goes on and on
too **** long,
they too to can be, are,
imagined away without too much difficulty
so too,
the next poem
can be hounding incessantly, crying out for
your undivided-under-god,
for attention to be paid
and paid again
but more likely
be a desert away of unwatered vast eternal spaces, and inspiration is only a mirage
that searingly teasing you for relief
from can’t get go satisfaction
for that next poem
is perpetually around the
next corner,
moving faster than your heart’s beating,
the words that need believing,
need bleeding for
they come at great cost,
never simple, never flawless,
just raw unpolished
that is always the
next poem
Nov 24, 2024
Nov 24, 2024 at 7:46 AM UTC
How could I not— know . . .
See the noncut of soaring eyes,
Approach, moist, ****** and tidal,
Waves so searingly laden with tear,
Flame, forged in some mythic winter
Frozen as I was, before the rush of ice
And flows of glacier, I heard the loudest
Break of open silence in the seep and roar
Of depths' deepest, dark, coldest ocean waters,
. . . Before sweet suffocations of the very colour
White and saw the dim fates of fade, emergence of blue,
Hearts drowning.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 11:55 AM UTC
the countryside is covered
in a blanket if smoke
bush fires are burning
in and around the Rhynie spoke
some thirty thousand hectares
of land have been fried
farms and parts of the National Park
burnt from side to side
the fire authorities are working
by day and by night
to encircle the flames
which so searingly bite
slowly they are winning
the protracted war against the flares
their fire fighting equipment
stifling the inferno's nightmare
in a few days the fire
shall be extinguished and put out
then the countryside wont be covered
in the smoke's thick tout
the air will be as clear as a bell
and less haziness will stand
as the ashes of the bush fire
shall bear testament to the fire's brand
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
the oil bubbles under my skin
and i am sinful
he whispers, "baby, sin for me"
and i grin because he has no idea
what fire he has just lit
and i make sure he is
sure
because there is no going back
once the tornado i am is released
from it's butterfly cage
and he smirks and whispers,
"baby, have i ever been uncertain
when it comes to you"
and so i draw the curtains
around us with pencil and pen
and i ask again
if he is sure
and he whispers, "baby, sin for me"
and so i grab a blade
and run it down my tongue
because he likes his girls silent
and so i obtain a gun
**** it and put it on my temple
and pull the trigger
because he likes his girls brainless
and so the oil bubbles out of my mouth
and it spills onto my *******
because he likes his girls hot
searingly so
and so i draw my sword
and cut out my lungs
because he likes his girls breathless
and so i tear a cigarette out of it's pack
and light it
because he likes his girls rebellious
and so i kiss his lips
and rip his tongue out with my teeth
because i want him speechless
and i can tell from his sparkling eyes
that i was more than he bargained for
and so i put myself together
and whisper,
"baby, sin for me"
and leave
for i am sinful.
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
How could I not— know . . .
See the noncut of soaring eyes,
Approach, moist, ****** and tidal,
Waves so searingly laden with tear,
Flame, forged in some mythic winter
Frozen as I was, before the rush of ice
And flows of glacier, I heard the loudest
Break of open silence in the seep and roar
Of depths' deepest, dark, coldest ocean waters,
. . . Before sweet suffocations of the very colour
White and saw the dim fates of fade, emergence of blue,
Hearts drowning.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
Breitabart was permitted entry of course, you know
'Expel All Muslims' Breitbart, & CNN NYT, & LAT were all
held back by some panting freshly-minted Republican staffer & had
to wait all shocked & chagrined at the closed door as one blank dead
eyed maniacally grinning young newly promoted Lieutenant Miller and
one bull-heavy Bannon strutted like obscene vulture marionettes in their favourite special-wear searingly shiny knee-high Wehrmacht boots which had just been licked mirror clean & furiously polished with their very sweat by a heaving gaggle of simpering craven Republican lackeys who had come comically dancing & prancing when summoned from the floor of the so-called People's House with a "yes sir, no sir ... what can I do next sir" to grease the skids on the Fascist Express with the their very blood & the tears of the innocents gathered so fresh that very dawn with no stops till the sun rises on your New World.
.... oh yes indeed.
Feb 27, 2017
Feb 27, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
.
How could I not— know . . .
See the noncut of soaring eyes,
Approach, moist, ****** and tidal,
Waves so searingly laden with tear,
Flame, forged in some mythic winter
Frozen as I was, before the rush of ice
And flows of glacier, I heard the loudest
Break of open silence in the seep and roar
Of depths' deepest, dark, coldest ocean waters,
. . . Before sweet suffocations of the very colour
White and saw the dim fates of fade, emergence of blue,
Hearts drowning.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
leave me alone
I don't want to be lonely
don't leave me alone with myself
my thoughts will destroy me
I will destroy me
in this endless whirlpool of
self destruction
what is this sadness within me?
what is pain?
I've been burning
boiling
I am fire
in a *** of but too many emotions
it's agonizing!
it hurts!
it
doesn't?
my nerves are charred
I feel nothing
I think?
it is silent
you are a passing soul
and you will leave
as swiftly as you came
now you are telling me that
you love me
you don't
you won't
you can't
how can anyone love me
it is impossible
your love is a mixture of
stardust and nectar
and I am a withered flower
cut from my roots
dead?
will you help me
will you save me?
please don't
don't try
stop! please!
wait
I need you
please don't go
don't leave me alone
I cannot be saved
there is nothing in this world
that can take me out of this misery
nothing but.....
please
stop walking away
no! don't!
please turn around!
I beg of you
you promised
you said always and forever
but forever doesn't last
and promises were meant to be broken
this was going to happen
it was inevitable
yet I hoped that you would be different
from the rest
I hoped
but when there's only so much water
you can drain from yourself
before you're searingly barren
before what's best for you is to just
walk away
and I know that
nothing will be different
when the next soul saunters into my life
and I will still hope
all our lives we have been forced
to make promises we don't mean
and we think that we'll keep them forever
we hope we do
but you and I both know that
hope only breeds eternal misery
and the only promise
that will never be broken
is death
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 9:18 AM UTC
Unfaithful marital transgressions
self admitted indictment,
crime and punishment,
no longer think high lee
entailing no mister re: demeanors,
I searingly weathered
(George by bushed, albeit thankfully,
no unwanted child left behind),
nonetheless one unforgettable
indelible, execrable, and abominable
professedly owned his
civil warring battle of life
transgressions undeservedly heaped
(Uriah hit about that)
(carnal feral hormonally seething
gone astray nightwalks)
woven by basket of deplorable
emotionally painful selfish object lesson
forever etched upon mine psyche
(left by one bobbing sponge -
cheeses crust station of his life
within sea of human life now
affixes moniker re: mister *****
inflicted courtesy yours truly
said marital indiscretion (philandering)
one among many issues discussed,
during treatment plan earlier today
February eighteenth 2020
concerning complex edifice
regarding mein kampf
existential bleak house
(figuratively crowded cheek to jowl)
with and hard times
fraught with many
unattained great expectations
unwittingly accepts psychological fallout
(among kissing kith and kin,
a shellfish chicken and hen thing for sure),
despite years elapsed ex post facto
deploying, incorporating, narrating, signifying...
narcissistic, opportunistic, and phlegmatic
self incriminating doom
visualize deus ex machina
betrayal rendered adopted smugness
invariably set in motion domino effect,
whereby emotional alienation
devastation, humiliation, maturation, suppuration
(yoking impossible mission
to shuck off penitence, the price to pay),
thus rightfully, truthfully, and veritably...
ably, readily, and willingly
allowing, enabling, and providing
incomplete resolution, (hence iresolution)
thwarting rancor thy deux daughters
(livingsocial many time zones distant)
embark quest to guide their own
metaphorical maiden voyaging ships of state
countless transpired hours
at counseling facility, where poetic papa
aired and mulled over bothersome
anguish to complete requisite treatment plan
to receive psychiatric appointment
next (and last) Tuesday of February 2020.
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 10:43 PM UTC
i make my heart collapse.
seedlings planted in my chest
trees sprouting out of my *******
i am the root of this massive Redwood.
i watch the leaves shake
till they touch hands with the sky,
say hello to the sun.
pull me upwards.
lurch me forward.
giant Redwood breaking through me
as i travel up its stump.
i love the blood the tree jerks from my veins.
drips down that rough bark
and settles past its roots
where it lays to rest in the hot center of the earth.
i love the skin ripped from my body
as i am revealed for all that i am.
lies suffocating in oxygen,
their deaths fertilizing the life that is this earth.
Breathe.
feel cold purity enter your lungs.
let the wind carry your limp body.
finger paint the sky as your canvas,
use the sun as your paints.
Rest,
deep in those moon craters.
befriend the stars.
Breathe.
let that rainbow of music notes pour from your mouth as you laugh.
let your smile radiate happiness for all that is.
let your mind fly with the kites
and your tongue taste the air the birds do.
It’s Okay
to fade into that dark night
that only God can see.
to feel that wonderful, eternal fall
in your stomach
as your roller coaster plummets
so sublimely beautiful from that place up high.
body slipping from the seat,
and letting go,
to be all that there is,
to experience all that exists,
to let the light gleam from those cracks
in your still heart.
to fall and rise with the tide
of that ocean
that carried you away
so delicately,
so gracefully,
so searingly beautiful.
Jul 6, 2020
Jul 6, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC