"succored" poems
I was quiet
And found that she left me with sorrow
And that of lamentations bring
And that smiles that even bring sorrow that even now would not even show its head
I cried for her dear face that it may shine
And grace that succored my time has vanished
Into atoms and the particles that float in eternal space
These no more
I was alone and that which saw to my own doing
Killed my heart and shattered my soul
And found nothing to ponder upon but myself
And that sadness left me alone forever
And now rosas and sampaguitas bloom in the garden
For I am the unworthy soil beneath such beauty
Left untouched and now exists as it was
THORNS
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 5:16 AM UTC
*"For all have sinned
and fall short of
the glory of God..."
Romans 3:23*
Jane woke up
In a strange bed
Liquor on her breath
She lit up a cigarette
She knew that
it was death.
She watched him
Put his pants on
Before he went to work
She thought
He was a loser
She thought
He was a ****
She walked out his doorway
Back out on the street
She now had $60
So she went out to eat
She observed the customers
The waitress and the cook
How could
She keep on living
With the guilt
She felt - the looks?
They all knew her business
Her clothing said it all
So they sat in judgment
Nailed her to the wall.
She left with shame
Surrounding her
There was no disguise
She left with face
A flaming red
Tears burning
In her eyes
She walked by an outreach
Walked in with
Other knaves
She felt she might
Find some help
The sign said, "JESUS SAVES".
Sue woke beside her hubby
In a nice suburban home
She went and made
Him breakfast
He came down
Well groomed.
He went to
Good employment
He had a sterling past
She put on her makeup
And went to Yoga class
Then the doctor's office
Her tests negative again
She filled out the
Paperwork
And thoughtlessly
Took their pen
Then she drove
To Wal-Mart
In a hurry
She was late
For her next appointment
For the lunch
Which her friends ate
She went in to
Meet them
That's when
She saw Jane
She looked with derision.
That ***** ***** again.
She consumed her salad
"The girls" laughter
Met Jane's ears
That's what caused
Her face to blush
That's what
Caused her tears.
Sue drove home.
She cut cars off,
Not thinking it depraved.
Jane walked in the outreach
With the legend
"JESUS SAVES".
Two very different women
Died & went to God
It was then
Something happened...
Definitely odd!
Jane went before
The Father
He looked at her list.
All the things
Which she had done
All the marks she'd missed
But He then
Acquitted her!
He hugged her with love!
For to HIM
Her page was *blank
For He saw JESUS' BLOOD!*
Sue then stood
Before Him
He looked at
Her short note.
All things done
UNKNOWINGLY
Were what
The angels wrote.
How she'd transgressed
Her husband
By taking him
For granted
How she'd taken
The doctor's pen
And other things
She wanted
How she and her friends
Had laughed at
A girl in pain...
That the woman's guilty
That much was
Quite plain...
So Jane was then succored
Sue went on bereft
Jane stood on the right hand
Sue stood to the left.
For Jane was FORGIVEN
Her joy had no end...
Sue eternal torment
Because she was
CONDEMNED.
What's your stance,
My people?
Will you stand or FALL?
For God is always watching
And He judges
US ALL.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 10/2/2017
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
--Proverbs xxiv. 11, 12.
1.
I have done I know not what,--what have I done?
My brother's blood, my brother's soul, doth cry:
And I find no defence, find no reply,
No courage more to run this race I run
Not knowing what I have done, have left undone;
Ah me, these awful unknown hours that fly
Fruitless it may be, fleeting fruitless by
Rank with death-savor underneath the sun.
For what avails it that I did not know
The deed I did? what profits me the plea
That had I known I had not wronged him so?
Lord Jesus Christ, my God, him pity Thou;
Lord, if it may be, pity also me:
In judgment pity, and in death, and now.
2.
Thou Who hast borne all burdens, bear our load,
Bear Thou our load whatever load it be;
Our guilt, our shame, our helpless misery,
Bear Thou Who only canst, O God my God.
Seek us and find us, for we cannot Thee
Or seek or find or hold or cleave unto:
We cannot do or undo; Lord, undo
Our self-undoing, for Thine is the key
Of all we are not though we might have been.
Dear Lord, if ever mercy moved Thy mind,
If so be love of us can move Thee yet,
If still the nail-prints in Thy Hands are seen,
Remember us,--yea, how shouldst Thou forget?
Remember us for good, and seek, and find.
3.
Each soul I might have succored, may have slain,
All souls shall face me at the last Appeal,
That great last moment poised for woe or weal,
That final moment for man's bliss or bane.
Vanity of vanities, yea all is vain
Which then will not avail or help or heal:
Disfeatured faces, worn-out knees that kneel,
Will more avail than strength or beauty then.
Lord, by Thy Passion,--when Thy Face was marred
In sight of earth and hell tumultuous,
And Thy heart failed in Thee like melting wax,
And Thy Blood dropped more precious than the nard,--
Lord, for Thy sake, not ours, supply our lacks,
For Thine own sake, not ours, Christ, pity us.
1.5k
(A missive to the "Thursday Guy")
Pause, I tight my eyelid,
there your face again,
Lovely and winning.
Suddenly Interfered my mind,
Thereupon rested and died.
I can no longer pick you up,
In an opening w/c is abounding
Abounded by the thoughts of you
My mind, I was speaking (of).
On the Ascension Day, Maundy and Holy alike,
I am smiling deepest and ceasing the time.
I held on for you, I stared then,
(though your eyes are daft),
Foolish, Crazy, even though I was,
every hour.
Oldness has gone, I flew.
Withal,
You are still a beauty even in fancy
In truth,
I cleave solely in your memory.
Your hair, dawning from your eyes
Succored the threshold of my fantasy.
I intend to whisper a truth
Some words that will embody my longing
I don't want you to, all but dwell on my fancy
But to breathe with me in solidity.
Please, once again, I want to gain a stare.
-C.
Sep 4, 2010
Sep 4, 2010 at 10:55 AM UTC
bleak darkness and its measure:
squandering the light
no definitions
no spectral haze
no inhibitions
its onerous labor is one
with me.
live life at the edge of the fall.
holding a hand
fallibly.
live alone, love alone —
these things pulse with strength
in singleness, even the glances
of prying neighbors are sequestered
reduced to sealed shut, hermetic,
no sight or hindsight.
i'll run to where the sunlight is
and wish for the moon, slumber
like a dead log adrift in the current.
buying myself love and selling its pleasures to defunct markets.
trying to repair what is beyond salvation,
trying to amalgamate what is perpetually
scarred, sundered.
clangorous *** of metal, herding jeep
and riotous chariots; mad men fill
the lines waiting for encumbrance,
bardic in the streets of Marilao
hungry for something:
give me a blank piece of paper
and i will try to reinvent the world
with impunity and lostness.
the world gives back such awry stare
and all imperative darkness reigns
supreme, mine are all emergencies
as shadows are succored not,
retained in their caliginous thrones.
living alone
yet not so much alone.
the dog outside does not bark anymore.
the well-placed gnome of stone outside
stares stonily across the thick space.
the nosy neighbor does not meddle
through the rusted ocher grills.
the old moon wanes outside
as the lift of light sways to where
there are no disappearances.
somewhere in the metropolitan there
is a derby of fools and all mirth;
i wish myself there and curse my presence
right then.
work does not fill me anymore,
money does me no good. my soul
bangs the walls and slams the doors
it threatens to leave without auguries,
and demands a new sense of necessity.
tonight, i will go out, drink at a local pub
and crawl towards the ajar door of
my father's car. smoke will caterwaul
the pressing scenes of the vicinities
crumbling at the tremor of clocks;
i will open my dresser and discover
all books dissipated, some naked
in relished pages, others abeyant.
the curtain can fall later,
and the night too, falter evenly
widely spread across the sky.
— all is broken.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 8:49 AM UTC
A green, unseasoned ox
Was put unto the plow
A yoke was placed upon it
To work the master's rows
It balked at the job given
For it did not know how.
The master saw it's plight
He knew it had to learn
So he brought a great and seasoned ox
And a double yoke was worn
They both pulled a wagon
Filled from stem to stern.
The master tapped them with the reins
They both began to pull
The new and yet unknowing ox
Got it in its skull
To go a path that was unsafe
It's wits were yet quite dull.
So it balked again and cried
To go the other way
But the great and seasoned ox
Stood there in the fray
He allowed the younger ox
To buck and buck all day.
So finally the younger ox
Was tired, began to wheeze
It knew it was defeated
It's pride was finally seized
It bowed down in humility
And fell onto its knees.
The ox cried bitterly
In its enormous shame
The other ox was greatly moved
For its weeping out HIS NAME
He nuzzled it & stroked it
For HE was once the same.
The master, too, came off his seat
And succored the poor beast
He gave it food and water
Held it to his breast
The greater ox lay down with it
So that it could rest.
The young ox finally rallied
Was ready for the fight
Of pulling the great burden...
... but found that it was light!
For the greater ox was pulling, too
He stout and he forthright!
The master smiled proudly
The young ox would reach the goal...
And what WAS this great burden?
**Billions of HUMAN SOULS.**..
SoulSurvivor
(C)1/28/2017
***"Come to me, all you who are weary
and burdened, and I will give you rest.
Take my yoke upon you and learn from
me, for I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls.
For my yoke is easy,
and my burden is light."**
Matthew 11:28-30 NIV*
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 4:27 PM UTC
she confounds me with sweet raisins and nuts, accolades oh so
high the caloric content....
***”Yours [poetry], is subtle,
that seek to grasp, hide and peek,
strong/weak/out-front/meek.
It charms like a snake a wake of ideas,
with innuendo, yet it's sublime,
a bell that chimes, a walk in hell,
a credo a charm, two-arms to keep one warm”***
~
**** your praise, cursed encouragement,
leave me well enough to my audience of
the occasional stumbled on, the accidental tourists,
the who few nick my cheek when they randomly seek
a few minutes aside, an at-last-last-chance peek,
giving us both, the reader and criminal, pause,
the pause of
‘who wrote this?’
and it’s innate counter-mate of wonder,
when to my attention brought,
‘did I write this?’
**** praise, poisonous snakes only need apply,
the wake of my ship so quickly dissipates
upon the unmapped, unending Sea of New Poets,
where the 99% just drown the first time round,
and the remaining survivors glory in fame so fleeting,
‘twere not for the unburied of the internet, their zombies
would too be shipwrecked, ungiving, undead...
a credo? not I.
a credo requires preaching, acolytes according a poet succored reams
of accusative praise, all such leads to ******* up to the egoland
where failures reside alone gleeful pride, and goes to die on bouquets
faded from by over caressing their petals, to floor dropped, in silent admiration, the imagined bells of hell ringing only in the ears
of the delusional deluded
my maturity existential, let it be forgotten, troubling no one,
a new audience of one, owning tickets of broken mirrored pieces,
my layers peeled back, this imagery unrecognized, not I, not I,
for fainted be, the poison of pride denied, for my writings writ
by an accursed one, long since buried in the faint ashes of
lost glorious forgotteness
~
but humbled nonetheless and it is the finale,
“two arms to keep one warm,”
with an elixir of words ear whispered,
**** you know my weakness, and now
my bravado erased by your single touch prophesied
Dec 1, 2019
Dec 1, 2019 at 12:07 PM UTC
In 333 series of an onslaught,
Between to fight and to be
caught.
To live or to die,
To be free or to lie.
Many people were being
insulted
By this so-called contradictory.
They smote us,
But no one succored.
Reason? To purloin this
masterpiece,
Not to make this world
at peace.
Carnage, oppression, and
slavery–
These are just one of their
hobbies.
But now, we've successfully
defeated the opponent–
Came from the other continent.
We, the Nouvelle Ancestry
Will fight against this
inhumanity.
Mar 10, 2019
Mar 10, 2019 at 7:34 AM UTC
Angling in the ocean unknown,
The waves of eternity swept by,
Creeping time brought along the coldness of fear,
With the warmth disappearing, I started ‘reeling in’ the doubts,
As I retracted, the child in me prodded not to,
With my ego bruised albeit slightly I waited in vain,
Countless minutes bygone my lure finally tugged,
My anticipation roused batting for the Giant Trevally,
Hesitantly I pulled out the gleaming fish amidst the engulfing darkness,
Oh Mackerel it was,
Desolate over the return of my travail,
With my bait questioned,
And my ‘success’ writhing in pain,
I was lost in the gamut of emotions absorbed,
The slap of the caudal fin my epiphany,
I alleviated the fish with a splash,
Liberated and succored by the ‘lowly’ mackerel,
It dawned upon me that
the CATCH was in giving rather than taking.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 6:04 AM UTC
What is life but a passing glimpse into mortality,
Succored and soothed by some mysterious Deity.
We live, we love, we die,
Some of us struggle, others thrive.
Each person’s journey beautifully unique,
Some intersecting, most seemingly oblique;
The choices made define our path,
But chance and fate hold the last laugh.
Despite this truth we’re glad we’re here,
Greeting each new sunrise with hopeful cheer;
To breathe life’s air brings us delight,
Helping us heal from past suffering and plight.
The moral to be learned by one and all,
Is that after every storm and dreary squall,
The clouds part ways and the sun peeks through,
Followed by clear skies of the brightest blue.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 11:32 AM UTC