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Nothing turns this angel down
Excellence, in the flesh
And if they try, an evening gown
In satin works the best

Is beauty deeper than the skin?
Surely she'll impress
Instead of showing what's within
She forces you to guess

Eyes of gold been tarnished brown
By tears that have been wept
Dark and shining locks abound
Make up for shades not kept

Sin runs red in times of blue
Every angel's seen
Temptation's there to carry you
When you have lost your wings

Consider but the outside shell
For that is most well-known
Appearing to be straight from hell
To garnish feelings shown

How could she be so mean, you ask?
What makes her be so spiteful?
Why can't she see it's not a mask
That makes her feel delightful?

Lies frozen, held through time
In silent desperation
Hiding at the scene of crime
A ****** confrontation

To free the memories from her head
Would unleash such a fear
She'd rather end the night instead
As not to feel him near

Ah, here's the one; the big bad wolf
That's haunted all her dreams
Whom proved too well by wearing wool
All are not as they seem

But I am ****, but skin and fur
And showing her my core
And telling her the parts that hurt
While donning nothing more

He's changed her mind, she's cast astray
But I could be the shepherd
To keep the hungry wolves at bay
As countless dogs endeavored

One light can only shine so much
Before the flame has died
To reignite it just a touch
Of love might satisfy

Surely there is nothing worse
Than feeling left to dry
Entrapped within a lover's curse
And never knowing why

Well, in defense of self-defense
I must admit it's snide
To hang a face upon the fence
Until you've picked a side

It's safe, my friend, just be yourself
Strip down to nothing hidden
And let emotion feed your health
By eating the forbidden

A heart must be coaxed from its hide
With tenderness and passion
In order for the passersby
To notice what has happened

From way out here it's hard to tell
But underneath a soul
That liberates a girl of twelve
Longs for a soul to hold

To hold would mean to carry, too
When harsh times rear their heads
To be the one to follow through
When love needs to be fed

But most of all it means to dress
With confidence or loathing
Just make sure you can impress
A saint in Sinner's clothing
Brain pictures
lucav Sep 2018
ethereal utopia burned to hell,perhaps the carnage of death made them scream their scriptures at the sinners.
Lucifer clutching the hearts of the vertigo minded devotion to a blank faced god,showing no mercy to the imperfect yet claiming righteous love.  
The blind will never see and the sinners will always seek some relief from pain,or perhaps their counterparts seek to relieve the duty of the never ending pretentious love for a celestial being they know nothing of.
just something i wrote as a submission
Kevin J Taylor Sep 2017
I have not come, he says,
to defend God,
but to offend sinners.

Looks straight at me—
I am everybody's man.
Not all poems survive. I've lost a few and let others go. My current collection of poems is available on Kindle. It is called "3201 e's" (that is approximately how many e's are in the manuscript which is a very unpoetic title but a reflection on the creation of poetry with common things.)
Joseph Miller Jul 2017
I see you struggling
at the Gate
with the roar of lions
behind you
You can barely hear
the Lord calling your name

I see the beasts
tearing at your flesh
as you stumble and fall
Down on your knees
I hear you beg and plead
Where is the strength
to be free!

I see a hint of knowing
in your eyes
a trace of believing
in your heart
I see you have the will
to stand and walk

In a new life
I see your reward
shining bright like a star
running through your soul
I see you believe
thejohnags Jul 2018
never been so unsure,
all i need is a little more time.
no, i'm not walking out that door.
no, i don't know.

i'm a sinner with no trace,
when did the rush fade away?
when did i think you were a mistake?
no, i'm your mistake.

i'm yet to see your eyes,
will its spark outshine my pride?
you're yet to prove your lies,
wait, no, i'm the lie.

my mind keeps on changing
i've some trouble breathing
it's not a beautiful feeling,
when you're guilt keeps on knocking.

what do i do with you?
what do i do with me?
i have never intended to hurt somebody.

i am a gun, i don't run out of ammo.
you're a good target, i just can't let you go.
what i'm about to do, i'm afraid it would hurt you.
so before i shoot, just hide.

don't take a breath.
don't fight.

please know i'm thinking of your heart,
but i gotta think of mine too.
CallMeVenus Oct 2017
You told me all poetry is about *** or God
Because you know that I have a map of your body well memorized in my mind
And I touch your hands like I'm turning the pages of a Bible
A bookmark I forgot about from the chapter in my life when I believed without reservations
But I love you like a sinner because it seems
you are my last chance of paradise
Kenji May 27
I lie, I deceive, I guilt trip, I am unfaithful.
I use, I manipulate, I cover up, I am unforgivable.
I have no shame in what I do.
It's like playing a game of chess, strategically formulated for the ones who cannot see through.
I love one, but it's never enough.
I need more.
I am hungry for the chase, the game, the adventure, the thrill.
I confess in guilt.
Guilt, my main negative feeling.
Hesitation, I dance with the devil in sin.
Sent to hell for lust and lies.
But hell has a special place for me, the throne.
I have sinned enough to deserve such a title.
So secretive, nobody knows.
My motives are locked, my intentions don't need to be told.
Feeling so numb, so detached, my feelings for you are so gone, I question why I wanna still see you again.
Then I remember, we are best friends.
The trap of getting bored so easily all the **** time, just wanting the next best thing, again, and again.
It's a cycle.
I don't deserve true love.
For I am a sinner, who has confessed my guilt of hidden shame.
Venus in Aries
The Warrior Seductress
Venus: Planet of love and harmony
Aries: Impulsive, quick, bored easily, likes the chase, seeks the thrill, adventurous, aggressive, bold, risk-taker, ***** *****.
Let the quiet come
When did your form
cease to fill this room
the still air breaks
silence where
your breath once warmed
these walls
How broad this world
has become
how shapeless
aimed at nothing,
this quiver of dreams
a compass, cracked
point back at me
pooled in stagnant fear
and shame
Where does
this road lead
without your guidance
How can I see
over this wall
when it is built
of my own being?
To stand, to look away
from my own vision
to recognize
the difference
between a
and a warning
In those bonds
of reason
is it where
your voice is hiding?
Call me back
turn me away
from this poison
Max Dec 2018
Rather be a sinner
A saint.
While the sinner
Always wins

Sometimes it feels like bad people get the best things, and then wonder why the hell nice people don't get those things..
MeanAileen Jul 2018
When I look into your eyes
I see more than just brown...
I see pools of dark chocolate
in which I want to drown.
Like shots of aged whiskey
they intoxicate me-
I forget all my troubles
and for a moment, I'm free.
They make me feel warm,
so safe and secure.
No longer a sinner-
they make me feel pure.
They're the color of sugar
when caramelized,
with a devilish charm
that has me mesmerised.
Much like the earth
drenched in rain-
with unstoppable force
they now flood my brain.
To be lost in their depths
is where I long to be...
but those perfect brown eyes
were never meant to see me.
I love his eyes
Alex Apr 2018
You were both hell and heaven
Fire arose within
Every word you said, every breath taken
was passion
and heat
Like the kind we shared between the sheets.
But there was hurt in your eyes
You couldn’t imagine being a sinner
Every night,
You lay by my side
I told you I was no good.
You told them “there’s nothing I wouldn’t give her.”
For a second I thought I was being saved.
It felt religious believing with you
Courageous game, but we still played.
It was a dangerous world for us fools
Every piece of you was lost in a prayer.
My love for you was The Enemy.
And, my love, He was cruel.
Tears streamed down when I speak,
with my palms together,
I knelt down and repeat;
This man is a soul
I am nothing but a body
Never met a god
This life has been sold,
Never to what I thought.
I’ve lied in bed with what scares me most!
I have sinned, I have sinned!
But please, hear me out, first—
with a benevolent grin
He took me in—
Don’t forgive me, father
I’m a sin.
Owen C Swenson May 2017
I am the definition of a sinner.
This is the life Where no one is crowned a winner.
I'm buried alive, too tired from the struggle that I survive.
I get pulled over no matter how fast or slow I drive.  
They get paid to take me out of this world either I'm convicted, dead or exiled for life.
But I stay true to wherever I ride.
Because I got certain standards I  have to abide.
I'm not slippery but I slip out the back just so I can run to go hide.
I'm not a sellout, so I won't surrender my pride.
I'm just a product of uncle sams factory distribution line.
I live in this box that reads "pure evil, nothing good of his kind".
They put me on your local news and they keep pressing rewind.
So society has a basis to punish me so their ego is fine.
Every night that you eat with your family, in prison is where I dine.
I suffer from nightmares of living the american dream.
Then I wake up and look down at my hand holding this knife.
I only wanted to live happy and construct a real meaningful life.  
My heart bleeds for my beautiful children.
I'm badly wounded inside by searching for this nonexistent philosophical wife.
Some might say it was caused by pure negligency, but I fought for this freedom, revealing my true legacy.
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a ****** deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am shy and I am outspoken
with a heart of glass, easily broken.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
a habitual liar just keepin' it real.
I am witty and weird and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.
A lil bit about who I am...
King Panda Sep 2016
let this be proof that on day
I am alive
and kicking
with nothing but a
caffeine headache
and a good
twenty days of
in my back pocket
but now
the cross breeze
comes and
I lament the past four
how they left me
and seeing women jump
off buildings
Sovereign soldier!
let me live more than
20 days
I am a good person
I only **** when asked
I eat spaghetti with a fork
and spoon
I once tried to jump off
a cliff
but that was then
and this is now
and the breeze is as cold
as winter
don’t think that I ever enjoyed this
time with you
don’t think that I won’t ever
try that again
I promise I won’t float
in the air
not this time
Bummer May 9
When a bullet isn't between my lips, words of hatred often are.
I beg for love and steal from God and set bridges up in flames.

I hide knifes in drawers and backs and I keep secrets safe from harm.
Without a purpose I loathe so beautifully, without a love I'm so alone.

I keep a razor in my wallet, next to the photograph of you and me.
I sing songs of wanting to change, but I've been living in my hell for years.

I paint words of fear so easily but I can't seem to grip onto bravery,
I wish so badly to feel others pain, but I can't ******* cope with my own.

I am the King of the Cowards.
I am the Leader of the Loners.
I an the Prophet of the Pained.
I am the Saint of the Sinners.
Uzzie Aug 2018
It's pretty and precious when you speak and spit those words of yours that are meaningless.
It's deep and thoughtful when you think you own the land that you were raised up on.
I think it's hilarious when shoes are compared to the price of bread.
Is it me that sees material being more worthy than food?
Brazilian weaves become ends meal and yet no meal is eaten at the end of the day.
Gold twisted to coins
And yet POVERTY is still a lifestyle.
The TRUTH being twisted into LIES.
Fast money reaching it's greatest  peak
But in reality we know that slow money is more purer.
Our hands are filled with BLOOD
Our MINDS are locked in chains
Our wrists are slit with blades.
We are blinded by our stories
Covered by our problems
Scared of the truth.
We'd rather face the darkness than being caught in the light.
Because I heard that once you're caught in light
We throw punchlines
But they bounce back
With lines that form a REBOUND.
Superficial, materialistic and cynical is what we define.
DREAMS burnt away
As if in a crucible where metals are melted and purified.
Our streets are blocked by ashes
Our senses are polluted with gas.
Yes, our MEN are filled with violence
And yet our WOMEN appear to be resentful and bitter!
But have you forgotten that BITTER  was once SWEET
HATE was once LOVE
It's more simple when we reflect our backs on the mirror
'cause now it's not us that we face.
We running from the truth
Due to our fear of our roots.
Remember that God didn't create a coward
Neither did he create a sinner.
It's just the life that we face that trickles us down.
We pop bottles in funerals.
We take shots on horses 'cause we want a hell of a ride.
Our tongues twist what's true to false.
We have become slaves of our sins
So in denial, lost, confused and BRUTALLY tampered with.
We are set for LIBERATION,
We have misused our freedom.
Yes , we don't appear to be SINNERS,
We are sinners!!
But I prefer to be a RIGHTEOUS  SINNER . . . .
Tsunami Apr 10
I need someone;
Who will speak prayers between my legs
Recite “Our Father” on my skin
Whisper “Hail Mary”s along with their tongue
Let me turn water into wine
Two lovers to one.
I have always been a sinner
Nat Lipstadt Jan 2017
Yom Kippur this year was celebrated on Oct. 12th 2016.
Leonard Cohen passed away on November 7, 2016.


faint knocking at the door to the Tower of Song

the ministering angels, hearing a rhythmic, lyrical rapping,
sigh, thinking the atonement day,
the holiday/holy days, are supposedly over,
the human balancing act, the rush to judgement period,
all tallies totaled, the busy sale season for souls,
at last completed, each fate inscribed & sealed,
in the book of life^

but, always one,
the itinerant straggler, the last reluctant sinner, a judgment resister,
flaunting an expired coupon, trumpeting demands for a recount,
waving it, claiming it, the bearer, entitled to a mercy discount and
an extra 30 days

"who shall we say is calling?"

the Angels are stunned to hear,
a familiar raspy, growling, almost indescribable,
yet, stammeringly, beautiful voice enchanting,
equally asking and answering,  how both,
with a strident humility, "a man in search of answers"

this voice, instantaneous recognizable,
the asking superfluous,
all beating wings now, all in vast excitement,
this psalmist, long awaited, one of His best,
a chosen one, a courtly singer in the Temple of his people,
blessed with the curse of seeing and believing,
the comprehension of beauty of the human superior interior,
never being quiet or quite satisfied,
in capturing, its multifarious variations,
in every language spoken

this is the man who took ten years
to compose just
one song,
one poem,
one word,
whose faith was strong,
but still needed proofs,
whose every breath of oxygen inhalation,
brought more questions,
every exhalation, only releasing partial answers,
and yet, still, yes, yes! finding hidden verses inside

a simple, everlasting

the hubbub subsides, the man sings~speaks:
how came I here,
was I one, who by fire?
that fire afeared,  that my finality was spirit consumer?

one voice, answers,
in one voice, the swaying back-up singers answer,
not by fire, not by water, not by stoning or
even drowning
in tea that came from all the way from China

when sing we Angels, the Judgement Day poem,
we alone, on high and above,
we, keepers of the books and records of everyone,
are permitted this to query:

Who by Sufficiency?

you, the sidekick of the creator,
special commissioned by him, anointed to live a life of research,
record in word and song the mysteries of musical gene strings,
that intertwine the skin cells of man and woman,
man and his fellow us-human,
your soul commandeered, ordered, delve deeper,
into the consolable chasm tween divine and mortals,
all those who are poorly constructed
in his image

he, who has earned his place, his best rest,
his works adjudged sufficient,
he, who best answered
this judging,
this calling out,
calling in

Who by Sufficiency?

now forward on, write only of answers,
wade in the troubled waters no more,
no more passports, or borders to cross,
no more measuring the days,
the last road trip finale
finished & feted,
fate meted

no more changing thy name, changeling priest,^^
sing songs of solution, salvation,
for the questioning hours of confusion,
the urgency of revolution,
no longer need a hallelujah resolution

                                                    ­| | |
Who By Fire                             Who By Fire, Who By Water:^
(lyrics by Leonard Cohen)     (A Yom Kippur Hebrew Prayer)

who by fire                             How many shall die and      

who by water,                                how many shall born,
Who in the sunshine,                 Who shall live      
who in the night time,                   who shall die,                      
Who by high                                Who at the measure of days,
who by common trial,                    and who before,
Who in your merry                            
                                                          Who by fire
month of May,                                 and who by water
Who by very                                 Who by sword,
slow decay,                                       and who by wild beasts,
And who shall I                      Who by hunger,
say is calling?                              and who by thirst,

And who in her,                           Who by earthquake
lonely slip,                                         and who by plague
who by barbiturate,                      Who by strangling,
Who in these                                    and who by stoning
realms of love,                               Who shall have rest,

who by,                                             and who shall go wandering,
something blunt,                            Who will be tranquil,
And who by avalanche,                  and who shall be harassed,
who by powder,                            Who shall be at ease,
Who for his greed,                           and who shall be afflicted,
who for his hunger,                      Who shall become rich,
And who shall I,                             and who shall become poor,
say is calling?                                Who will be raised high,
                                                         ­     and who will be brought low
And who by brave assent,                  
who by accident,
Who in solitude,
who in this mirror,
Who by,
his lady's command,
who by his own hand,
Who in mortal chains,
who in power,
And who shall I,
say is calling?

^From the liturgy of Rosh Hasanah, the Jewish New Year and Yom Kippur, the  Day of Atonement, there is this truly stunning prayer ( in the Jewish liturgy. The Book of Life contents the fate of every sinner. From the first day of the new year, until ten days later, on Yom Kippur, depending on whether the sinner repents or not, his fate is sealed.
Yom Kippur this year was celebrated on Oct. 12th 2016.

Leonard Cohen passed away on November 7, 2016.

^^"A Kohens ancestors were priests in the Temple of Jerusalem. A single such priest was known as a Kohen, and the hereditary caste descending from these priests is collectively known as the Kohanim.[2] As multiple languages were acquired through the Jewish diaspora, the surname acquired many variations." Today, with no temple, the limited role of the Kohanim is to bless the Jewish people on the high holy days with a  special prayer with abeloved tune,  instantly evocative (see The Kohanim are still revered, honored, and always called up first to the Sabbath reading of the weekly portion of the Old Testament

A thank you to Bex for proofing and encouragement.
Part I of a trilogy
For a  more detailed analysis of the roots of the song, "Who By Fire," and its origins, see:

He worked on the song Hallelujah, arguably his most famous composition, for ten years.
gabrielle Feb 25
I have sinned
and the commandments are you.

As your order is to be not loved by me
and to be loved by you.
Thou shall not love you,
thou shall be loved by you.

and it was all disobeyed.
King Panda Aug 2017
god meets
mystic: the
swing of winter
and lakes frozen

god meets
Judeo-Christian sinner
whose eyes sought
lead along the lake’s


god meets sin:
a welding of
metallic vines and
out of tune music.

god meets underwater
Vulcan as he swallows
a laugh. gasoline
tops the lid
of the lake.

god meets the
fire that wicks the surface
until the body bubbles.
AditiBoo Aug 2018
Here is a sinner
Sitting behind a laptop screen

Scrolling down the never-static newsfeed
Trivial scandals now a guilty pleasure
Reading through people's misery, becoming mean
Nasty comments, by restless fingers being keyed

Here is a sinner
Cleansing his wrongdoings with that of another
Becoming a saint by calling out a stranger's error
Finding normalcy in someone else's stripped privacy
Retrieving some sense of belonging in controversy
Becoming nonchalant in the face of his own complacency

Here is a sinner
Judging others on their freedom of expression
Using that same liberty to trigger that prejudice
In this cruel whirlpool of righteousness, everyone is a loser
The issue is not the words we use for this damnation
But the conviction that our words give us a sense of justice

An instilled presumption that we are better
Simply because our crime did not make the paper
A malpractice of opinion only being heard behind a screen
Through the monotonous voice of a mindless machine

Here is a sinner
Writing prose of what gives rise to my anger
Using a keyboard to show my contempt
To those who do the contempt!
Revolutions have taken over the virtual platform
Whilst evolution enters an identity crisis of its reform
misha Sep 2018
a deal
with the devil
when i dance with
him late at night
down at parties
drunk in love
with you

but he's got me
wrapped around,
oh the devil
stays with me
and he pulls
my hair back
as i let
it all

he's always
mad but
he won't let
me go because
every night,
he calls me
in my room
asking for
one last

dancing with
the devil
has never
he's a devil
in the form
of you.
Jeff Paul Jul 2018
Because the sun reveal itself, because i know the path back home
I gladly live under the banner of dead men.

I cant run so i quake under my ego.

I cant swim, I drown within the depths of my wayward emotions.
HeWhoExplores Dec 2018
As we dove down the lonesome Irish road
not a sinner in sight, was all I could think

Past the old shops and beyond the grand pubs,
we drove on into silence, without even a blink

To my right lay dreamlike misty mountains,
and to my left lay a calm bay; as daytime turned into night

And it was beyond that bay I saw something,
so incredible in all its own right

With large glowing cranes and a foggy sky
propelling a light hazy glow for all to see

It was Christmas Day after all,
and this image was magical even for me

I smiled like that of the Cheshire Cat,
belly full and looking out towards the fading light

And perhaps I was wrong to ever claim,
that not a sinner was ever in sight
Christmas memories
You called me sin. A natural-born sin, you say. Something unchangeable, indomitable evil.
But its okay, you say, we are all born sinners. That, your lying tongue and your shaky hands wandering through the things that arent yours as well as your lustful eyes, and those guns you carry around that screams the bullets through the heads of the innocent, these things you made balance on one side of the weighing scale with the sin of loving the same.
You say things about nurture and nature. Its nature, you say, and never nurture, therefore you are born w̶i̶t̶h̶ ̶i̶t̶ no born as it. Im not the sinner, i am the sin.
Seeking a Dragon:

“Has anyone ever seen, a lizard who licks the air, smells the sounds, hears the tasty gnats flying ‘round and knows the instincts of his prey while holding fast his scaly-green statue on a hot summer’s day with his eyes like pinholes straight to hell, his hunger an anxious frantic swell he quickly darts after his dinner devouring that faithless sinner?”
I have heard that obese Christians are tastier. In that regard Americans must be delicious!
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