"taintless" poems
Give me my scallop shell of quiet,
My staff of faith to walk upon,
My scrip of joy, immortal diet,
My bottle of salvation,
My gown of glory, hope’s true gage,
And thus I’ll take my pilgrimage.
Blood must be my body’s balmer,
No other balm will there be given,
Whilst my soul, like a white palmer,
Travels to the land of heaven;
Over the silver mountains,
Where spring the nectar fountains;
And there I’ll kiss
The bowl of bliss,
And drink my eternal fill
On every milken hill.
My soul will be a-dry before,
But after it will ne’er thirst more;
And by the happy blissful way
More peaceful pilgrims I shall see,
That have shook off their gowns of clay,
And go apparelled fresh like me.
I’ll bring them first
To slake their thirst,
And then to taste those nectar suckets,
At the clear wells
Where sweetness dwells,
Drawn up by saints in crystal buckets.
And when our bottles and all we
Are fill’d with immortality,
Then the holy paths we’ll travel,
Strew’d with rubies thick as gravel,
Ceilings of diamonds, sapphire floors,
High walls of coral, and pearl bowers.
From thence to heaven’s bribeless hall
Where no corrupted voices brawl,
No conscience molten into gold,
Nor forg’d accusers bought and sold,
No cause deferr’d, nor vain-spent journey,
For there Christ is the king’s attorney,
Who pleads for all without degrees,
And he hath angels, but no fees.
When the grand twelve million jury
Of our sins and sinful fury,
‘Gainst our souls black verdicts give,
Christ pleads his death, and then we live.
Be thou my speaker, taintless pleader,
Unblotted lawyer, true proceeder,
Thou movest salvation even for alms,
Not with a bribed lawyer’s palms.
And this is my eternal plea
To him that made heaven, earth, and sea,
Seeing my flesh must die so soon,
And want a head to dine next noon,
Just at the stroke when my veins start and spread,
Set on my soul an everlasting head.
Then am I ready, like a palmer fit,
To tread those blest paths which before I writ.
3.7k
Always on the search for truth
I Hide from it’s Face now and for the first time
Because Ignorance is Bliss
I wouldn’t dream of editing you
And am Glad you Found someone to talk to
But every now and then I wish it wasn’t me
I know you well enough now to see you won’t be falling for me
You won’t be listening for my Heart Beat
The Formers
You’ve divulged these secrets to me
Open as a book
I’ll bend the spine to make my crease clear and visible
There is one who’s left a lurking Impression
I get to see the stains
They won’t wash out
I think it’s too late
I wouldn’t have been enough
Enough to make Taintless the mess they’ve left behind
Lets pretend that I’m ignorant to what You and I both know
Sep 15, 2010
Sep 15, 2010 at 3:08 PM UTC
Poor little crippled spider
Dragging along across my desk
Painfully slow, one leg crushed.
You don't deserve this ill condition
****** down upon your tiny body.
Little spider, desperately jerking,
Fighting for life, losing the battle,
I'll tell you now, simply, I hope.
It is because of deeds like this
That man is marked for long, dark days.
For it was I who smashed you hard
And took away your chance for life.
Yes, I, ensnared in arrogance blind,
Despising your trek across my desk
And thinking only of myself,
Fearing the moment when you
Perhaps would crawl across to me.
** You wiggle once more,
Feebly, desperately. What right
Have I, a human only, to
**** you thus? None, I say.
I have none. Oh, to turn
The tables only once and give
To you the strange and murky power
That we regard as splendid.
Yes! Give to you and your kin
The chance to wreck a vengeance proper
Upon the callous'd head of man.
We deserve it, little one,
For we are naught be far-removed
Extensions of yourself
And cannot justify such acts
Of cruel, vain, and fiendish ******
Look! On your back you lie.
Your legs, only six or seven now,
Are curled across your belly soft.
What thoughts run through your tiny head?
Do you pray? But no, you have
No need for prayer. Never have
You left the bright and glorious
Kingdom of God. Born you were
In innocence fair, and lived
You did in that same virtue.
And now you die, and not once
Did fear of doom, darkness, and eternal
Death weigh upon your taintless life.
'Tis I who fear eternal death
For I have killed you, little spider.
Killed you out of fear and horror,
Ignorance and arrogance and black disgust.
Live on, Little Spider, and live well!
Forgive me of my ***** deed
That I might forgive myself
And treat with kindness and respect
Your tiny cousin trekking now
Across my desk in search of you.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 2:21 PM UTC
I want to go home so much!
I want to go to my open essence.
There’s coffee on the table. It’s undrunk.
And there’s my future, which is pure taintless.
I want to go home, to my place.
The time is ripe: my heart and soul are holed.
To hell with being along! I go home!
I am invisible. And here I am cold.
Feb 6, 2025
Feb 6, 2025 at 4:08 PM UTC
I want to go home so much!
I want to go to my open essence.
There’s coffee on the table. It’s undrunk.
And there’s my future, which is pure taintless.
I want to go home, to my place.
The time is ripe: my heart and soul are holed.
To hell with being along! I go home!
I am invisible. And here I am cold.
Feb 2, 2025
Feb 2, 2025 at 2:44 PM UTC