"shrine" poems
In his arms,
feeling his embrace,
she felt safe.
The right words,
at the right time,
at the perfect place.
Her eyes captivated
by his handsome face.
His hands gently placed,
around her tiny waist.
Two strangers,
eye to eye
as they come
face to face
Her lipstick
as their mouths taste
each other for the first time
a memory that will last a life time
a flavor savored by his body soul and mind
he made her body his temple
and she made his body her shrine.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 8:52 PM UTC
so deep i'm touching you spine
the feeling blowing your mind
our stars aligned,
now you climaxing
over this mountain we climb
your body a shrine,
so close its feeling like mine
the way that you grind,
so divine and its only getting better with time
getting harder as I listen to your breathing
moaning louder as I move it with you, your body I'm kneading
my body's been feening this whole evening
you are what I've been needing.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 6:38 PM UTC
through the streets and column cracks
culture weaves and summer smacks
sacred figures, holy shrine
monastery in grand design
cathedrals, convents, heaven’s stars
god of neptune, god of mars
doge’s palace, alley ways
gondolier on full display
winged lions on pastel breeze
cicada singing from the trees
pillar walk of saint mark's square
basilica in all its flare
crosses shade the carousel
a bridge of sigh that leads to hell
golden stairs on placid ridge
arches of rialto bridge
torcello! murano! grigio!
the countess rides the river poe!
sins of seven, fiery hides
poplars bank the levee side
black plague, attila the ***
eden formed before the sun
paradise above the marsh
high alter, gothic arch
middle age, religious wars
celestial fountains, marble floors
sculpted peacock, catholic faith
all is true the great god saith
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
I know you love it,
I can feel your vibe.
you don't just see me,
you see my other side.
I saw you looking;
how you stared for a while,
noticing you smiling,
when I caught you,
for the second time.
must of been those stunning eyes
or that curious smile, you caught my eye
Wanted you closer as the seconds went by
instead of just flirting, I wanted to be by your side.
eyes feeling on each - locked out the world
left each other stuck inside.
I saw you notice me,
and I noticed for a while.
As I looked on, I noticed your style.
And now I'm feeling you, lovin your vibe.
noticed your eyes feeling, watching me move
like a movie --- we should roll, and chill
then take a ride
Close your eyes, and
let me climbs inside.
Touch your soul,
while I ease your mind,
rock your body,
sooth it with mine.
giving you the real me,
until you are addicted to that natural high.
Don't rush a think,
lets just take our time.
Relax, baby just enjoy the ride.
Coming into my world, while I dip inside.
give me the best of you like its already mine.
Introduce your Highness to her new shrine.
Dec 19, 2015
Dec 19, 2015 at 3:34 PM UTC
Backed in.
Upside-down yet right-side-up.
My "Days Off" are never enough.
Backed in. Feelin rough.
Being alone in my quiet place is often tough.
My mind wanders, getting lost.
Missin out on bein about.
Locked up on a cold, cloudy, winter day.
No doubt.
No trust, no love, nothing to clutch...
I hold my blanket and pout.
Loudly.
No friends wander in and out.
Undoubtedly this pen holds no cure for a broken spirit and a broken heart.
I guess this just falls under "Vague Art".
But it's a new start...to an old art.
I should've known this'd be harder than being a martyr.
Underestimating the already underestimated.
It's my time to shine.
Mesmerized by the bright light.
I try not to fight it...this paper, My Shrine.
Im an ugly person with a handsome mind, intertwined with the devine.
My life, MY throw, MY time.
It's never this easy to draw strait lines...-----------------------
Nov 27, 2009
Nov 27, 2009 at 11:02 AM UTC
Now mind is clear
as a cloudless sky.
Time then to make a
home in wilderness.
What have I done but
wander with my eyes
in the trees? So I
will build: wife,
family, and seek
for neighbors.
Or I
perish of lonesomeness
or want of food or
lightning or the bear
(must tame the hart
and wear the bear).
And maybe make an image
of my wandering, a little
image—shrine by the
roadside to signify
to traveler that I live
here in the wilderness
awake and at home.
13.4k
.
And her arms enfold me,
I lay my cheek
against her breast.
The shaking starts,
the tears fall,
as sobs emerge unhindered.
Cries from way down deep,
and I hear her heart,
slow, steady, metronomic.
So I follow its rhythm
along a path richly bathed
in warm sunlight.
Through an archway
and across a threshold shrine,
the cemetery of the Ancients.
A hundred thousand names,
carved in marble,
adorned with statues and plinths.
Holding knowledge of old,
and the sound of silence,
like an abandoned library.
The shadow of love hovers close,
driving through midnight mists
and leading me on.
Practising narrative necromancy,
reanimating old words,
giving them life newly born,
upon the first carved marbles,
its names burnished with wisdom,
and the anonymity of obscurity.
There glows one name
in forgotten script
and I know my deepest identity,
the weight of the aeons
flows free into my mind,
histories of the millennia.
I know
my Forest Lady holds secrets
that belong to me.
And she gestates them all,
a coveted pregnancy.
A path-working, an etherical dream,
and her heart skips a beat,
as another part of me
crumbles and dies,
to mingle with the dust
of ancient knowledge.
© Pagan Paul (11/07/18)
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 2:51 PM UTC
Under the arch of Life, where love and death,
Terror and mystery, guard her shrine, I saw
Beauty enthroned; and though her gaze struck awe,
I drew it in as simply as my breath.
Hers are the eyes which, over and beneath,
The sky and sea bend on thee,—which can draw,
By sea or sky or woman, to one law,
The allotted bondman of her palm and wreath.
This is that Lady Beauty, in whose praise
Thy voice and hand shake still,—long known to thee
By flying hair and fluttering hem,—the beat
Following her daily of thy heart and feet,
How passionately and irretrievably,
In what fond flight, how many ways and days!
12.3k
flatten your tongue
slip it between your teeth
_n._
your little lips
forming an elipsis
_o._
put them together
and may you declare
a word you’d so carefully deny—
_no._
you spell it out
on table tops
shout it
from the rooftops
and when cursed hands
seek to defile your shrine
may you exclaim
_"i am mine"_
Mar 27, 2018
Mar 27, 2018 at 1:03 PM UTC
today's begging is finished; at the crossroads
i wander by the side of hachiman shrine
talking with some children.
last year, a foolish monk;
this year, no change!
11.6k
Within the shadow of a false icon,
Which hangs over me like fallen titans,
The ones who in the darkness of ignorance wore capes and flew,
But now wear maniacal grins and snarl to.
The same person who used to make you want to say live,
Now only force you to to spell it backwards and with yourself become more combative.
He says he misses me,
But that would make three,
Me, mom and The Monster,
He says "straighten your postue"
I miss the days I could look past your hypocrisies,
Back when I could look at your and think "these are the right policies "
In my time of need,
You can't seem to see,
Your voice make me bleed,
You're whose killing me
To be stuck in a house, but not a home,
Trapped inside not a shrine, but a tomb,
Imprisoned by the voice that used to be that of ideology and hope,
Which is now the voice of the hate that hangs me like a rope,
The voice that tears my mind in two,
One side screaming "you are wrong," and I should be rejecting you,
The other side creeping and deafaningly whispers I am the infection, adieu.
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
I Craw in the Urban Jungle night after night, making shadows my best friend
Because my pale skin would get sunburn in the day time.
Many of you have read about me on the internet,
But don't know if we exist like the Yeti or Bigfoot
Every now and then you see photos of me and hear stories about our existence
But here I am, White, Nerdy and…. Nerdy
Nerdy like the Nerds falling out of the box and skipping on the floor of my lair
(or my parents basement whatever you call it).
Some moments you will find me praying to my shrine for my savior, Weird Al Yankovic
Many of you may call us “ Losers”
But let me take a moment to tell you why you are wrong, in every way.
First off, We are not losers we just win at things that you don't care about
Like the Rubik's Cube, Dungeon and Dragons, and Larping
We don’t care about making friends, getting the poo tang, or getting high off of our *****
No we are too occupied trying to plan how we will survive the zombie apocalypse,
Or debating on if Star Wars is better than Star Track.
We are too busy reading comic books, Leveling up our one handedness
On Skyrim of course.
You think that we are hideous,
But in all reality, my acne improves my defenses against mother nature,
My braces are actually tools that government uses so they can reflect solar flares back to space
I'm ugly because god decided to make me pick up girls on ******** mode because before you Meet me it was way too easy.
Many of you think that we are weak
I may have spaghetti arms, no abs, but you know what, no problem,
Because if you look at my shadow, you see someone that 10 feet tall and bulletproof
I am a nerd, hear me roar.
My roar breaks your paper thin confidence
As it just floats in the wind like leaves, leaving the tree in October
My roar will rock your house with all of your friends leaving you alone because in the end, you May be popular but lets be honest, who are your real friends?
Call me weak, I dare you
Being a nerd has taught me many things
Like don't eat cake because it is deceiving
And that Neo should of taken the blue pill
Because that movie series was terrible.
And that DC Comics is the best, ***** Marvel
But the one thing it taught me the most is that be proud of myself.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 10:03 PM UTC
Years later, and the smell
hanging inside the latrines,
the stench
that twists your instincts,
has not
gone away. One thousand
two hundred
people every morning in
these latrines
sitting on concrete blocks
with the
round holes, so filthy that even
the murderers
won’t walk in, and I have
just walked
in from a ceramic and porcelain
shrine to
cleanliness.
Apr 20, 2014
Apr 20, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC
Always walking that line
Always tempting fate
All these temptations calling me
I attempt to numb pain
Got the temperature rising
Know I can be temperamental
My temper’s ‘bout to unleash
Doing something regretful
A temporary escape
From two to ten on the dial
The temper-tantrum and screams
Like a tempestuous child
Perhaps a temporal shift
Like Anty Em’ on the farm
The tempest carries away
Ship wrecked alone I am gone
My template shows me the way
Temptress I can not escape
Contemptuously I have temperance
Finding tempo ‘til break
A temple shrine I pay tribute
Silently contemplate
Lord please grant me forgiveness
For my wrongs and mistakes
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 7:12 PM UTC
tiny glowing squares
penetrate my retinas
and spike into my brain
quick-fix pleasure migraine
[a drug, almost]
six-inch screen turned shrine
temple television:
be my proxy
mother
father
friend
and
lover
digital aura glow
comfort and sedate me:
tell me i'm beautiful
tell me i'm right
tell me you love me
tell me you'll never leave my side
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 8:03 AM UTC
Just a wicked peacenik’n quick draw from the Paw
Game of Thrones’n the Shah, cRussian bones of the law
And still spewing the news like the red dragon’s maw
When the baby-skull splitters want nuclear winter
Ideal New Cold steel and send Chernobyl shivers
Down Roman Republicans’ severed headlines
Till there’s no more dead kids on for prophet front lines
I’m in exile sharpenin’ [sic]kles in style
Pyongyang’n Kuomintang climate denials
Erasing their nation-hate racial profiles
Outpacing their skinhead disgraces by miles
Shell casin’ this place like the Nuremberg trials
For Fords sellin’ swastikas stockpile bibles
Defiled by Normandy tide genocidals
Fresh meat off the boat spreadin’ Plague mercantiles
I smile and **** ‘em with kindness
Then grind
Battle tax in my acid bath
Salt Marchin’ prime
Because WAR IS THE CRIME
I’m the Clown Prince of Rhyme,
Level 9 state of mind
Like the state of Rakhine
The Black Hand before time
Runnin’ Africa’s Luciest Sky Diamond mine
I’m the ronin alone in
The monkey god shrine
And my guile’s reprisal’s Versailles treaty signed
Strippin’ pride from the Rhine
‘Till your Motherland’s mine
Swine
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 2:37 AM UTC
Eternally no word is spoken,
See it through your vision, this deserted shrine hidden within hellfire,
The dreams are fading into the slipping stream of time, vanishing,
In silence waiting seems to be alike an eternity, lonesome and sad,
If you believed you could try, all the same it's both the truth and a lie,
Silence, is what is called for in this abandoned, forgotten, rotten place
But if you were to spread your wings and were to fly,
Maybe then, you could reach high, rise from the fire and call through a voiceless barrier for help, but will the deaf understand you ?
This is, where all hope is lost to cause, where all words have come to pause, no message is delivered and prayers are sent by reticence,
So what makes you still look up to the burning sky the flames are controlling with pure rage and overwhelming fury beyond reason ?
Perhaps hope is something one can only lose last or frankly, never.
The feathers of your wings have burnt to dust and were scattered into the wind of the rampaging purgatory since a long gone past,
All you do is listening to your own voice in your head, over and over.
Bound to the ground, with no wings to fly.
Bound to silence, with no voice to cry.
~ Umi
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 6:06 PM UTC
I'm not your saint, I am the thorn,
I'm the havoc you will mourn.
I cradled your heart, and bore this taste,
I smeared the carnage upon your face.
I took control, I snapped your will,
I taught you ****** not to ****
I ***** the violence, I made it raw,
I captivated hate with awe.
I stole your disgust and made it mine,
put your filth upon this shrine.
I abused the knowledge, twisted your fame,
in hope that I could be your blame.
I craved your envy, seduced your lust,
I shattered the belief that held your trust.
I made you all of which that you are not,
I am the decay which your body will rot.
Sabotaged your tender whims to mend,
to prove to you, that I do not bend.
Who had the control, was it me or you,
I will show you just what love can do.
Make you a God and then tear you down,
Lets show the world your painted crown.
The throne of cardboard, easy to inflame,
Your blood of Calvary, a stench of shame.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
Jesus runs in Everglades, Mohammed climbs the roof
The Angels stamp in anger as the Devil stands aloof,
A wandering Pope in la-la land while Jewish hands do writhe
Those apoplectic Muslims glare while Catholics pay the tithe.
Religion, girls, has hit the skids…the game is up on God
With rosaries rotating hard, theologians do nod,
While Mormons rant moronically with frankincense and myrrh
The irreligious bark and howl in Rastafarian fur.
Sectarian’s recant Sanctum’s Shrine the rite of soul is lost
As neophytes are dancing… the High Priest counts the cost,
Theocracy unbalances as Voodoo’s stamp the floor
And the Prophets throw their hands up, fast retreating for the door.
It’s transcendental disbelief that’s nailed it to the Cross
With the Priesthood chasing little boys all credence here is lost.
With sanctity’s monastic plunge the pagans roar and shout
As Shamans scream their incantations…God declares a route!
There is silence in the Temple now, stillness in the pews
As dust lies thick on altars, a nervous clergy holds reviews,
What, once, was good and vibrant here, is now as dead as dust
As the Blood Red Wine evaporates and Holy Bread…to crust.
Marshalg
Feeding the pigeons by the dusty, open door of the very, empty Chapel.
30 November 2013
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
just when the dust
settles round my lust
and the thud
of despair hits bottom
just as I flail
and swim in this
blood-caked,
soulless earth
soup of the lost
abyss of unbirth
you plunge my wilderness
charred with remains
from hellfire
and we breathe
halos
our bones lighted sticks,
colors rising in
angel arcs
Your rib cage
is open
for my tremulous offering
as my lips imprint
a crimson O
upon the earthquake
of your chest
I am still down with the
earthworms
wrist **** sopped
by soil
arteries, bashed
split to the root
by verbal hurts
in a sliding psyche of oil
yet here you are
suturing wounds
with whiplash kisses
saltlick moans in my throat
You wrap me in gauze
through the imprint of your eyes
turn my cuts
into fresh brook
gaze upon my
deepest darkness
like goddess worship shrine
my **** is a funnel
for your whipped light
sacrifice ****** prayer
skinned to the core
all layers exposed
your lips slick
with the drip
of my bliss,
deep juice of
freshly-caught
jungle hum
all is bared
we stop at nothing
paint our tongues
with tears
adorn the face of death
with ripe guava
and, as you scream
my name into
a blown glass whisper
my soft fruit
falls into
the heat of
your palm
somewhere
in distance
a
moon
explodes
Mar 2, 2019
Mar 2, 2019 at 11:42 AM UTC
Obsessed
You build again
Another shrine
Consuming thoughts now
They exist because you will them
You create importance
You inspect daily
You dream
Alone
You stress
Manic moments hanging in frames you create
Your time lives on nobody’s walls
Taking the place of everything
Your life will be gone
Your minutes
Your museum
Walking temple steps to nothing
There will never be a sign that reads,
“Please donate to maintain this shrine when I am gone.”
You will be forgotten
Live
© 2019 MJL
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 8:29 PM UTC
O Thou to whom the musical white spring
offers her lily inextinguishable,
taught by thy tremulous grace bravely to fling
Implacable death’s mysteriously sable
rob from her redolent shoulders,
Thou from whose
feet reincarnate song suddenly leaping
flameflung,mounts,inimitably to lose
herself where the wet stars softly are keeping
their exquisite dreams—O Love! upon thy dim
shrine of intangible commemoration,
(from whose faint close as some grave languorous hymn
pledge to illimitable dissipation
unhurried clouds of incense fleetly roll)
i spill my bright incalculable soul.
7.1k
You laid yourself a path
Of the best-laid plans
Of a future set in stone
But she interferes
When she sheds her tears
And she spends all her time
Daydreaming
If she could she would
Run your train right off the tracks
You’d be forced to shed your skin
Never looking back
She worships the moon
With a ***** silver spoon
It won’t answer her prayers
So with her flowing blonde hair
She spends her time
Daydreaming
But now she builds her shrine to you
She does all that she can do
Are you prepared to take her on
And spend your days in the sun
Daydreaming
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 11:48 AM UTC
. @
@ @
@ @
@ @
@ @
@ @ @ @ @ @
america, americultus, americate, dubiously **********
::: our gold-flecked bodies.
blackbirdian danceparty, i'll go.
washed-up beach bottles and all our feet amongst them curling time.
teens dream in orchid; they wait for stars and dark and los hombres of good dust.
they wait on eyes, and on embers, on belly belly.
jellyfish flashlight shrine.
we eat acid and strawberries and butter in the cemetery,
and feed foxes lizards face first :::
us lost ghouls on school-nights.
flash tag jazz, and yellow bicycles.
::: that hot eternal light.
that candy colored smoke don't smoke; go south on her body.
then thoughts form thoughts form action, form twangs all tuned to air.
& we, as notes, we notes harp like light
to dust.
our glistering hormonal thrusts beneath sheath of liquid love. her eyes,
with those multi-speckled strands
infinitesimally drunk :::
seed from my ****
pearled halo: smoke above my head.
::: waves and machines and weekends. filtered by the long ****
of existence.
boys wait in rooms of hotels for more drugs, and the girls bringing them.
like caterpillars on silky thin treadways,
with nothing but the flavor of our passions to ignite the way. we
exacerbate the boundaries of our intentions. we
curl under sheets, bending sheets of light and sound. we
flakey emaciated flakes. [sequence suffered time in motion] we
dirt. it’s what we are; dirt.
we are druggernauts, tasting ourselves along the iridescent brim.
::: we crawl up cross-glowing hillsides toward portals and faraway
bleep-blorps of hot god-head calibration.
we sticky-crackle go burn. [nature puzzles]
the brain shifts back; twenty-one grams they say the soul weighs.
they say things.
cherry blossom tree tips in the dark.
tele-portal surfing with an intergalactic pizza priest, and his satchel of secret sauce.
he heaves in the corner; rebirth :::
tendrils pulled tight, everybody **** chung…
Apr 3, 2014
Apr 3, 2014 at 3:44 PM UTC