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Alyssa Underwood Aug 2017
Jesus, please set my bound heart free
Let not this world my prison be
Where fear and shame would pull me down
To suffocate and cause me to drown

'Stead loose my soul that it may soar
Heavy, fettered, chained no more
So You can lead me to the hills
Away from where 'perfection' kills

In You alone my worth is found
What joy immense, this truth profound
To know I'm precious in Your sight
My strength, my hope, my life's delight

Surrendered now to Your control
'Tis love which heals my wounded soul
Convinced that I can trust Your heart
Toward me, to You my cares I impart

And selfish may I no more be
But lend me eyes that I might see
The wounds which other souls still have
To give to them Your healing salve

That You might take their tender pain
And turn it to eternal gain
So suffering may not wasted be
But used to set our cold hearts free

Then we who in triumphant praise
More closely on Your face may gaze
Beholding all Your beauty vast
Held tight to You, content at last!
~~~

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed."
~ John 8:36

"But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we all, who with unveiled faces contemplate the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into His image with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit."
~ 2 Corinthians 3:16-18

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us."
~ Romans 8:18


~~~

Sung to the tune of
'Jesus, Thy Blood and Righteousness'
(music by William Gardiner)
Ilion gray Jan 2015
In an instant with clash of
Anxious elements
You came reaching into existence
the moon that does not belong
To earth, told me you would
Come,
She fortold,
how you would be born
Between the great extremes-
Of Summer's light that
Gives us smiles,
The joy of love
Yet long are her days,
Her rays shining relentlessly
setting  fire
To forest,
Sweeping
Through cities
Yet,
Leaving ,
It's
Dust and ash in piles
Of us,

Until there is not a sound,
Nor a single rooftop left
Atop any building/
Now
the heat warps  the wood
Peeling back the ceilings
the fingers of
Flames digging in
Through the opening
Like a child
eating cereal out  of the box
Devouring every piece,
Even the broken
And crumbled
Eating up everything
******* up the emptiness
Until
The air is weak adrift
Scarcely ,
in strips of space.

  Parts of those things are in you
Yet,  you were also drawn from,
the strength of
Winters hands,
Reaching
Through stairs of clouds
And Suffocating the heat from the sun,
Then Walking over the earth
His feet a raging wind
Leaving footprints,
Of dead men.

You, are the first son of the first son.
Only God could name you..
That day, I stayed in the field
from morning
Till the hour became blue
I waited in the wild,

Waiting for a storm-
when it came,
I stood at its feet,
I listened to the myriads of voices
Of the rain
Listening
for a single word
Entering mid heaven
A word that only I could
Hear, spoken in a language
That was written in my blood.

You my son, were given a name
That will never end,
You who will rebel against the tyranny of time,
You who will preserve the tablets
Of the days I have witnessed
Of the things seen and what is yet to be
Of the things that only you will know
Of the choice that you must make
To search for the almighty
Or live silently among the liars
waiting through the seasons,
Until the dreamless nights endless come to you.
Of these days it seems god has left us,
Know this: he is there,
look for him..while he is still to be found.


And you will sing ‘til your lungs give in
To the killing wind
And though god no longer hears the children cry
You will transcend in a roar
Shall raise a sea of stone eyes
And in the darkest place
upon the eldest star
in the emptiest stitch of heaven
Where the angels go to die,
god will hear your song
wrapped In whispering drops
Of rain traveling in reverse
Towards heaven
Perhaps he will remember
that we are here,
My son,  you must try..
To raise the eyes of men
There are no answers here
Not in your shell-sea home, 
Nor in your native shore.

For that you must seek
Being lost and alone
On your own and turn

from dust, to rain and to dust again.
My son, there are no answers
Here in my speech. Nothing

You seek is here. Forget me.
You must taste the wind
With your tongue and leap -

A net will follow. But not 
in a way you'd expect.
One advice to the grain

Of my sand. Observe
the senses. Let it be.
One is not driven to wanton 

As one allows himself to be.
Nor in inaction move 
to drift as a paper boat.

Unless one carries his own
Weight, no answers will 
Appear clear.

For Papa

27 January 2016
“You know, son… There’s a reason...
God had a reason to give you broad shoulders --
It’s so you could carry this load… It’s so you could hold up all these boulders.”

“But these boulders aren’t my own, so why did He leave me them to hold?”
I can hardly hold them now… surely I’ll collapse when I grow old.”


“You can’t think in terms of time, it is not a restriction by which He is bound…
Instead you must think it as your cross, think of the thorns upon his crown.
He will not notice the time; that’s a human concept we’ve created…
Instead he’ll judge you by the size of the burdens with which you’re weighted.”

“Well, that’s a relief, but how can you be so sure?
He’s never turned the night to day; I’ve never seen a disease he’s cured.
Excuse me if I’m wrong, but I struggle to have faith
When the world that he created has become this wretched place.”


“I can’t convince you that he’s real, I can’t show you how to feel.
But if I showed you cold and silence, would you say that they were real?
Yet these aren’t real things, simply the absence of others…
So you must look to the voids, when you wish to discover.”

“I hope that you’re right. I hope he’s up there listening…
I hope there’s golden gates I can admire, I hope that they’re still glistening.
I hope God can take my hand, and tell me ‘Son, you’ve done well.’

I hope to God there’s a heaven – ‘cause I’ve been living in ****.
Ilion gray Sep 2018
I don’t want to be a ghost in the dark
Spaces of your universe
where there was never any light;
A chasm teeming with loveless
Vengeful demons,
nothing returns;
I don't belong there.....

I don’t want to haunt you

Nor do I want you to haunt me;

Lest we be buried side by side
Beneath a 60 year old willow tree
That rises instead of weeps
It's leaves reaching
For falling rain
Just as I have stood
In the throat of the storm
Waiting
Wanting
For your words
But the silence
Is black
As the outskirts of
Space
Where no-thing
Begins or ends
I am adrift
And I will drift
At the will of the stars
Across the ageless seas
Of essence
I will not let the water
Touch me
that each
Drip of the infinite deep
Is a number
Only God knows
Look! I saw
Unknown waves
Rise above the tide
And swallow the clouds

   I am
                  A  Phantom
                  


I have excavated the apartment
for  every
Scent of you;
I use yours and our sons
clothes for sheets
Otherwise
I would never sleep.
I would die
In this loveless house.
      I would live,
only if I could
stay quietly beside
your two souls;

listening to the language
your body

Speaks,

I would only hold you

while you sleep;

I would never wake up

I will refuse to breathe;
Dying before you leave…
To live eternally in that dream..
I no longer want to be a
human-being

Only  a “being”

Being human
comes with too many amendments
and clauses

Too many excuses written in our dna

I do not remember when I came.

Humans only live once..

A being,
can begin again..

So tonight
til time indefinite,

I am nameless...

Until you name me,

You can only name me ,
If you lift me

I will die nameless

Until you miss me
Azurel Mata Nov 2018
You used to tell me that beautiful things come from pain and adversity.
Like motherhood, unconditional love, and true stories.
As I stood in the middle of a room painted white,
Staring at the remains of rolling hills burned to black,
I saw you staring back at me.

Burnt fields like black panther fur
Shining against your bones
Velvet black
You’ve changed
And changed and changed
Yet your love still remains
Burnt fields like black panther fur
Whiskers are the needles on a compass
Always pointing to the azure sky
You used to sing when I cried
Rolling r’s over rrolling hills
A haunting melody startling black birds into the night
Feathered constellations against a sliver moon
And lips pressed to my salty cheeks

You told me that your favorite skin tone was chocolate,
As you laid out in the sun hoping to melt. “A quarter black” is what you say when you want to feel proud,
Even as you tell me stories of how your mother was called negrita,
The girl who stood too dark amongst the crowd.

Burnt fields like black panther fur
Black like the broken wings of mothers before you
Who had hands with scars from cotton seeds
And blue veins like uprooted trees
Stretching all the way to their tired knees
Burnt fields like black panther fur
You criticize your aging beauty
Speaking in envy of the color gold
Like you are a broken bowl in need of kintsugi
Yet silver snakes still slither
Over the pebbled river beds of your black curls
Dripping down the small of your back
Until they reach the base of your ivory spine
Burnt fields like black panther fur
You criticize your aging beauty
Because you never thought
Cocoa lips and sun spots painted on sculpted clay that never cracks
Could ever look as stunning as it does on you

You told me that it is better to speak my truth then tell pretty lies.
So I told you mine and you cried,
And cried and cried.
But look where we are now,
Standing beside each other with the same eyes,
Just different reflections.

Burnt fields like black panther fur
Tongue like a sword set ablaze
Tempered in pools of milk and honey
Blood red sun grazing the tops of your eyelids
Still reminiscent of those in old photographs
Where you saw the little girl you search for in me
Burnt fields like black panther fur
I am sorry I made you cry
But even when our backs are turned
We are still
Black birds singing in the dead of night
Free
Thank you mama for my broken wings.
Inspired by a photograph of a burnt field that I saw in an art gallery. For my mom.
The hanky he was sobbing into was crusty,
*****, unwashed, unclean; yet strangely comforting to a little boy,
as he cried he made his way to a culvert behind the school,
some place the other kids couldn’t see him crying,
it was more comfortable being near rocks
-next to that watershed for some reason?

He looked down at his antagonist,
the scaly-green feet,
they made him cry harder,
he lamented…

“Why have I been tormented so?”

“Who gave me these feet? Who made me this way, lizardly, scaly, an animal no?”

“What class am I, what species? Are those toenails, claws or a disease?”

“The way I’m treated makes me sad. Where is my mommy, where is my dad?

“Did I come from an egg? Didn’t we all? Why do they pick on me, make me feel so small?”

“My feet are reptilian even I can see that!”

“Am I part lizard? Are there horns on my back?”

“I can’t hide in sneakers ‘cause the claws tear them apart.”

“Not great at math, language or art.”

“They always pickin’ on me, today it’s in the schoolyard.”

“That is why I sit here on the rocks crying with my **** feet and sullen heart,”

“Cannot run fast so no baseball, basketball or soccer…”

“The other kids tried to stuff me in my own locker…”

“One mean little girl even threw a dead mouse at me!”

“But I’m only part lizard as far as I can see?”

“My English teacher says that my words are like a bird song”

“If I talk like a birdie along with monster’s feet, no wonder I don’t belong!”

“Even still, to be so mean to me, I know that it is wrong…”

“ONE DAY I WILL SHOW THEM ALL, THESE FEET THEY HAVE A PURPOSE!”

“MY WORDS OF SONG AND FEET OF MAGIC COMBINE A COSMIC CIRCUS!”

“I am no freak of nature, no forest Pan or Satyr…”

“It is not the way I look, my clothes or feet that matter…”

“It is what is in my heart and mind, the things I do that truly count…”

“For those things that make us different, for they are tantamount…”

“Seven heads, seven stages, seven fables, seven sages”

“Seven stars and seven wonders and seven heavens that we’re under…”

“And all those things they say are great and marvelous about us…”

“Will one day be written in the book by Great Old Uncle Taautus!”
Children's rhyme. Scylla represents the rocks near shores who rend ships to pieces that venture to close to them.
Ilion gray Sep 2018
I never learned to make light
Alone
and you left with the light that we created
together
even through all our darkness
I'm here
there's nothing here

Since you left

Carrying with you the fire that I helped to build

how can  a heart heal while it’s still being  killed

You weren't the only one who was alone
under all this sky

Staring at its immensity

Wondering if it's open
or empty

I'm ashamed of how selfish
humanity can be

Knowing how we theorize the death of our beloved sun
simply out of  envy of its eternal luster
knowing that we grow dark and empty and eventually die

How we leave the game early when our team is down and there’s not enough time to go back and win as if now In defeat, we would be wasting our lives to stay with them until the end

I no longer want to love you
because you left me there when the coldest winds came

You left Me there

Because even though I dried your tears

I couldn't stop the years

And I couldn't stop the rain
mannley collins May 2015
One Son of 'god'
Kills another Son of "god"
and the bombs explode in the 'side of the bog'.
Let me tell you brothers
I can feel it in my groin
there are strange goings on in Old Ardoyne.
Were ringing in freedom sings the Fighting man.
Mr Politician gonna put you in a Can.
Mr soldier boy you better go to bed.
Wake up in the morning with a hole in your head.
Verse from a song (unrecorded)that I wrote in the middle 1960s when the IRA(Irish Republican Army) and the British Army of Occupation in Northern Ireland were fighting each other on the blood drenched streets of Belfast and many other places elsewhere in Northern Ireland.
Abednigo Mogale Oct 2018
Tell me

Do you still say my name
Like how I write yours on the open sky
In the country side by the lake
Where we first said hello
Does the sound of the way you say it
fill your teeth ring
In your ear? like sirens
Rushing to save a mother
And her unborn child from
The gift that takes and gives life

Does it taste sweet
Like honey accumulated from
Pollen stolen from roses
That lay waste at a grave
Of a father, a lover who served his
Country well but defeated by
His enemy with bomb strapped
On a child who barely knew love

Tell me do you speak of me
Like a fairtale
A story of a prince and a black horse
A tale told to
A child who never knew his mother
Her death a secrifce to grant him
The ability to fall in and out of love
Filling the seas from the Nile
Of his heart.
Gosh love and it's ability to bring you back to life when it breaks your heart!
Ayeglasses Aug 2013
Please don't be like your actual father, please don't go down that path.
Born to unmarried parents, found by a party some beer and some laughs.
You are my first cousin, small but tough.
You take the craziest falls, no matter how rough.
Though your father is old, not in age, but in soul.
He has not enough water to fill up your bowl.
As for hope, you'll need a source more than one.
So, I'll do my best.
To help you grow strong.
Help you stay away from what's morally wrong.
If I can teach you these things along the way.
While you run and laugh and, without worry, play.
Your potential is something you can't outrun.
I suppose you're like my practice son.
I love that kid.

I hope that he goes far, so badly. I'll do what I can to help him along.
MeanAileen Mar 2017
Where are you going
my little one...
my precious son?
Why are you taking
my baby from me?

Close my eyes
and you're two...
Close my eyes
and you're four...
Close my eyes
and you're walking
right out of the door.

Where are you going
my little one...
my precious son?
You just keep growing
too quickly for me.

Close my eyes
and you're eight...
Close my eyes
and you're ten...
Close my eyes
and I just want
to hold you again.

Where are you going
my little one...
my precious son?
You've no way of knowing
how proud you make me.

Close my eyes
you're in school...
Close my eyes
and you're grown...
Close my eyes
and you're a father
precious son of your own.
This is more of a lullaby then poem. I used to sing it to my son when he was a lil guy. He's 22 now!!! Where does the time go?!
The wind, it whispers like a choir of hags,
under the light of the moonbeams,
there lay a broken child.
In his filth, he mutters,
in his dirt, he shudders,
so quick to judge we are,
the Prodigy Son.

Crackling trees and dried up leaves,
under the light of the moonbeams,
they shelter the child.
It cannot be said,
that the everlasting dead,
can't raise the living youth,
and show them how to be alive.

Out of the furnace and into the fire,
one mans plight is another mans pleasure.
Buried beneath garbage, recycled from his head,
his undeniable will is hard to measure.

The chatter is growing louder,
among the who's and what's,
the where's and when's,
the how's and why's,
they're racing round,
throwing sand,
throwing stones,
blasting the boy,
the fears he holds,
the anger he stores,
they set the trees on fire,
the dry leaves burn ten fold,
it's a hot box,
a red hot forge,
it melts his skin and bones,
then dies as quick as it caught,
and from the ashes, the Imperfect Son is born.

Rising above the smoldering orange embers,
under the white light of the moonbeams,
there stands the Imperfect Son,
and he washes his hands with mud.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
William Eberlein Feb 2013
Today,
for this day,
let me bear
the weight of the world.

Let the sky weep on my shoulders.

Let the earth ***** with insanity under my feet.

Let the sea rush to drown me with it's sorrow.

Let today be the day that I bleed,
so that gardens may grow tomorrow.
Kaitlin Evers Jul 2018
You draw me gently near  
Letting me know I have nothing to fear
Your touch soothing as a breeze
You've set my beating heart at ease

But before I was so close to you
A bridge had to be set
To link our great divide
Yes it was you
Who paid my debt
And sent Your Son who died

It was Him they did seize
When it should've been me
Twasn't but ordinary fees
But still You thought it worth your Son to save humanity
I wish you were here tonight,
the stars are peering through the clouds,
it just finished down pouring out,
you can smell the pavement.

I'm cruising down I-93,
there's a blazing red smoldering on the horizon,
probably just light pollution,
but it's burning up the sky,
burning it alive,
and it fades into the black night,
like the fire in your eyes,
only not as bright.
Copyright Barry Pietrantonio
Ian Watson Jun 2017
He is off to devour the babysitter
No need for shoes in the summer heat
No need for pants inside the house
Three steps at a time, claws awhir
Teeth aching to crunch the bones of his Brazilian prey

Sometimes I remember to move carefully around his loud, joyful willingness
Or I don't remember
And tear out a fat chunk of adventure with a stinging rebuke

But he is a T-Rex with two tons to spare
written 2007
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