"unbeliever" poems
He sleeps on the top of a mast. - Bunyan
He sleeps on the top of a mast
with his eyes fast closed.
The sails fall away below him
like the sheets of his bed,
leaving out in the air of the night the sleeper's head.
Asleep he was transported there,
asleep he curled
in a gilded ball on the mast's top,
or climbed inside
a gilded bird, or blindly seated himself astride.
"I am founded on marble pillars,"
said a cloud. "I never move.
See the pillars there in the sea?"
Secure in introspection
he peers at the watery pillars of his reflection.
A gull had wings under his
and remarked that the air
was "like marble." He said: "Up here
I tower through the sky
for the marble wings on my tower-top fly."
But he sleeps on the top of his mast
with his eyes closed tight.
The gull inquired into his dream,
which was, "I must not fall.
The spangled sea below wants me to fall.
It is hard as diamonds; it wants to destroy us all."
2.1k
I have been daydreaming my dream.
Can I tell you what that is?
Standing on a stage in front of a
supremely silent crowd as I
speak of my heart. My life.
My God.
JESUS CHRIST.
This after performing the most
righteous (hippie slang for awesome) music. Music I have
written and SO long to share with
the world.
I have been preparing for this
all my life. Even though I was raised
an atheist. I've had this dream to
stand up for something of the
greatest impact, importance
and beauty.
I had this dream of
Jesus Christ returning you see.
When I was 10. I know His Spirit
has never left. But He will
return ******
I DREAMT THIS BEFORE I EVER
READ THE BIBLE OR WENT TO
CHURCH. He came to me in this
dream. On a white horse and the
Host behind Him. From the clouds
they rode in pure GLORY!
I could not see His face. But I sure
heard His voice. Which said;
"Cathy. I'm coming back.
You and your family
have to be READY".
Maybe you are an unbeliever.
But can you see how I would feel
as I do? Also go to the site search engine. Type in "Salvation Story
by SoulSurvivor". If this testimony
doesn't move you nothing will.
I want to share with the world
how Jesus Christ literally saved
my life. What better way than
with music? The universal
language.
I have a dream. Of megalithic
angels standing around the stadium.
People in AWE! Not of me.
*Of God*.
My message?
No more war.
LOVE.
REPENTANCE.
LEVELING OF PRIDE.
FORGIVENESS.
I believe that God would not
have put this in my heart if He
didn't want to, at least, allow me
to TRY!
I have a dream. That i was broken.
Then completely healed.
In my BODY, MIND and SPIRIT.
For 20 years God has been
leveling my pride. It needed it.
For 10 I've been writing
poetry, music and songs.
Now it's time.
My music will be released on
YouTube and Soundcloud
next month. The links announced.
I figure if you're gonna dream...
**DREAM BiG**.
Notice the little i in the middle of
BiG? That's ME. If I get a big head
*the weight of it will make me fall.*
Will you support me? PRAY.
Send good thoughts skyward.
I'll need every last one.
Thank you!
♥ Catherine
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 11:49 AM UTC
I. Incumbent incubus;
An evil man sees the light
So he seizes the light
Zealously endeavoring
to extinguish its fervor
II. Duplicitous snake;
Trembling, the ground gives way
All the while shadows in his mind
Animate a reflection of life
All embracing, smothering him
Enveloped like a butterfly in his chrysalis
III. Beguiling wolf;
Frantically he seizures
Oh, unbeliever
With magnificent gusto,
Manifests the Inferno
Ubiquitously irradiating
To both cleanse,
and drive the shadows hiding
just beyond sight
Once more into the infernal abyss
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 4:39 AM UTC
Waking in darkness to brainstorming moments
Warm under covers on this freezing morn,
Recalling the instants of yesterday’s sequences,
How they developed and how they were born……
*“Moving with grace in a form fitting garment,
Curves in the shadow light tauntingly near,
Beautiful lines in a moment of weakness
Titillate senses erotically clear.”
“Watching the mouth of the bigoted warbler,
Watching him spout his idolatry spiels,
Rhetoric of mind bending, **** licking garbage
Image of self is the place that he kneels.”
“Urgency now with insurances deadline
Making provision for payments now due,
Juggle the baksheesh for paying the piper
Or the cruelty of bankers will cauterise you!”
“Laughter arouses the happiest moments
Merriment opens the faces so well,
Emotively gracious the giving of laughter
Contagiously, wonderfully ringing the bell.”
"Uncomfortably caught in the midst of an untruth
Unconscionably really, can’t call it a lie,
Got caught in momentum of tale in the telling
Upsetting me now to the point where I cry.”
"Can’t recall why, but I know there’s a matter,
Ripping my britches to try to recall….
Something importantly, now to be dealt with
Frustratingly lost in the fog of it all.”
"Harmonies rise like a mist in the temple
Delicate cadences rise and they fall,
I wonder why God allows this unbeliever
To sing with the Angels in his Holy hall?”
“Running my fingertips over her curvature
Feeling the ***** line plummet to fall
Knowing the thrill of elicit collusion
Anticipate promise of wanting it all.”*
Sudden alarm in the midst of a waking
Urgency calls at the dawn of the day,
Heaving my soul into frost waiting fingers
Leaving my dreams in the warmth where they lay.
Marshalg
“Pukehana Paradise”
Auckland NZ.
22 June 2013
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:40 PM UTC
Dear God, I’m an unbeliever,
if there was a higher power
i don’t think you’d let me leave her,
with the pain and despair I’m finding
you’d think the power you held would
allow you to come out from hiding
being the veil of what you claim to be
and the honesty extends beyond me
I’m not speaking with any selfishness
only with selflessness to guide me
away from your declarations of
mandations that mould foundations
for nations that struggle under your hand,
it’s all part of “God’s plan” only if
the blueprints call to stand and watch
everyone crumble beneath the cries
to higher powers while the darkness pours
and showers, soaking sanity and the ignorance
of humanity.
Dear God, I’m an unbeliever
I’m writing to an entity,
a supposed supreme deity
foreshadowing naive spontaneity
for those who have no one else,
I hate writing with the topic of self,
but the constant lack of health
brings not an illness
but a stillness in progress,
I’ll pick up the gun **** it,
I'll fill my body with pills
and begin to rock it,
and will there be a hand to halt?
nay, only a finger to point fault.
any god, any being wouldn’t let sadness
flow through a spineless body,
whether a monotheistic mantra
moralizes a mental mantle or
a polytheistic point towards a
pleasant prefixed phase of
past problems postpones
present’s purity,
I’m writing to a transparent
inexistent foster parent
letting me cross the road
without looking both ways,
so, dear god, if you see this
let me count my life in years, not days.
Aug 29, 2015
Aug 29, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
*What should I say to you
The struggles I have endured
LOVING you
Not even a diseased dog
Not even a person sent to HELL
Has suffered!
To see you once
I have to live a life-time
To talk with you
I have to get educated
To touch you
I have to upbring myself to be the best
To shake hands with you
I've to pray with folded hands
I worship you
With so much devotion
I came to LOVE you
But my temple of LOVE
Was demolished in a whim
My heart was ripped apart
My wretched soul
Cut into pieces
I cried unending tears
I - an unbeliever
Now sing and beg
Come to my rescue
To crush this hellish fate of mine
Come like a wind
To dry my tears
Come like a storm
To blow my sorrow
Come like a flood
To flow my fears away
So that the chapter of my fate
Would take a turn
And I would again dream
of being with you*
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 1:04 AM UTC
i am the broom that sweeps you into the dust pan
the capo garbage man
the lie left unchallenged
the true deceiver
i shine amongst ****
i collect your rejects
an unbeliever
believing in himself
with helping hands
ill smite you
with torch in hand
pointing out the path
my thorns have roses
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 12:03 AM UTC
It isn't even the dead of the night
This isn't even an empty street
I see lights flashing
And people chattering
I see cowards who might as well
Be accomplices
I see four men
two bikes
four guns
and whole lot of blood
I'm impure?
I'm the liar?
The unbeliever?
The one who's wrong?
Why don't you take a good long look in the mirror?
I'm not the one with the f@%*$ed up slogan
And a weapon set to ****
******
And this blood
Is no one's salvation
You're making a statement
But remember you're starting the war
Honey, this is personal now.
And when I come knocking down your door
remember you're the one who pulled the trigger.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
I will drink loneliness in my
coffee. The sweet is turned to
sorrow, the cream is the stir
of tears.
I will not last this.
The table was set when you
strode into darkness.
I will pin loneliness on the board.
The same letters unwrite.
Half a century is not enough
to unbelieve. The scattered
seconded invitation is
laid green and turbulent.
I leave loneliness a song
to the unbeliever.
You fold my intention like
a glove broken in.
Winter is always the last
cry in the dark sound
under the stairs.
I leave the sounds of the
wheel under my
shoes, in Winter unsounds
tears that dry in eyes
of the unbeliever,
you, walk like steel cleats
over my poems.
Caroline Shank
Nov 21, 2022
Nov 21, 2022 at 10:09 PM UTC
Simin
Different doesn’t necessarily mean better.
Your violence, a misconstrued cry for attention and love.
Every road, no matter how long and expansive, leads to an end.
Your ignorance is only feigned bliss,
for the certainty of failure is a known warrantee for unrest,
the illusion of peace.
The demonstration of confidences shattered,
Like withering plant stems.
The misunderstood, the figurative unbeliever,
The needy, abandoned like leaves buried beneath the white of the winter.
The only answer to our extensive quests? Ding, ding, ****
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:39 PM UTC
Slowly but surely, the earth is dying
Landslides and earthquakes
Tsunamis and hurricanes
Summer heat all year round
Like a mid-summer nightmare
Yet
Those are not the real killers
Bomblasts and homicides
Crimes of color, religion
A life for more lives
Alive to take more lives
Not one day gone without an unnecessary death
Slowly but surely, the earth is dead
Buried in the same hope that was meant to save us
Religion and it's diversities; Science and it's ideologies More harm than good
And knowledge is the ****** weapon
Now we are bristling at the seams of the end
Weaving as if we didn't know, our very demise
Deeply obsessed with such sad irony
The saved don't want to be saved
They want to go to heaven
But for the unbeliever, anything goes
Let nature take its cause
Indeed, we are nature's beings, but
We have overwhelmed it
With our incessant addiction to hope
Never believe the news
It's much worse than it looks
But not all is lost; the red could save us all
Join the movement
Mayday Mars
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 5:40 AM UTC
I do not walk in measured tread,
I cannot spare the time;
And steady pace is better suited to the dead
Or projects more sublime.
I see them dressed in garb of green
As best befits the land
That harbours jihadist and others more obscene
And not their native sand.
They bear allegiance to no state
That may have sheltered them,
But spread instead their ugly message born of hate
And anxious to condemn.
It would be easy to cast blame
On perpetrators of
The outrage that most freshly has induced our shame
And dissipates our love.
But this would be to hide our guilt
At similar events
That other so-called freedom fighters have but built
And empty rage foments.
The question that we must address
Is why these souls should choose
Defection from their lives of love, and thus aggress?
Why do they not refuse?
What is there that holds them in thrall
And draws them to a place
That their forefathers chose to leave for freedom’s call?
Is it a search for grace?
Is it the hope of paradise
Should they in jihad die?
Seventy-two-virgins is perhaps the promise
On which they then rely?
They claim that Allah is their lord,
that Islam is their life.
They spurn the pen; relying solely on the sword.
The Quran is a knife
with which to cut the Gordian knot
that engirdles their guide.
The jihad route to paradise, the unbeliever’s lot.
But we are mystified.
What must we then on our side do
that hold freedom dearly?
I just demand the freedom that I give to you
Car moi, je suis Charlie.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
Praying coming from the heart
My faith in believing from the start
Yet the Lord spoke to me in both of my ears
He told me I had nothing too fear
Heaven may seem far, but he is always near
Later my joy became a shout
My whisper was praise in what I was talking about
Assurance having influence
Heaven’s wonders providing endurance
The whisper being silent words
Yet through the Lord they were heard
My soul is full of Hallelujah
The praise that was my target aim
To the unbeliever I don’t feel shame
My daily whisper is the encouraging words from Heaven
Every whisper that became its own joyful voice
Being the servant and making a choice
My spiritual time for all the world too see
The whisper prayer for the world consisting of we
Thank you Lord for that whisper with you
It’s my daily walk and praise you deserve that’s due.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
Crawling out my skin
Out my ends, I’m morphing
Listen to the hiss off my lips, I’m morphing
Corrosive potion
Moments wading in ocean
Static evolution
Rootless traction
Weaving thru the nexus
My future re-enacted
Iridescent
Unbridled
Panta rhei vials
Isles of colored sands
No shadow on my sun dial
Crawling out my skin
Out my ends, I’m morphing
Listen to the hiss off my lips, I’m morphing
Jaded divinations
Desecrated chants
Sated pact
unfettered
Stench of gas on my hands
Mountains scrape the aether
Identifier, unbeliever
Ascetic institution
My cage degraded in solution
Narcissistic revolution
Illusion of my sanity
Nothing sacred minus my modus
Drunken monolith
In tune, in tandem
Crawling out my skin
Out my ends, I’m morphing
Listen to the hiss off my lips, I’m morphing
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 6:43 AM UTC
Fall from the clouds
Never looking back
Fall into the sea below
Never coming back
An eternity shall pass
But the shadows of your being
Will endure forever
Thoughts do trespass
The unliving, believing
Delaying the delayer
A fall of freedom
Shattering the bonds
Here comes queendom
And betraying chords
Of lovers and justices
For words are never the same
For another unbeliever
Falling down
Memories will catch your heartbeat
Rend your soul
Into a thousand brilliant suns
Beyond control
An eternity shall pass
But the fragrance enduring
Will linger forever
Thoughts do trespass
The unliving, believing
Delaying the delayer
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 1:02 PM UTC
.
Even in your eyes,
the malignancy took a bite.
It's eaten all your dreams,
and has you walking toward the light.
Now your pretty painted smile is
the only thing deceivin'.
Your pain has burrowed to the bone,
still there's nobody you'll believe in.
So when they slam the lid
at your tolling knell,
it is as simple
as ringing a bell.
To the novice unbeliever
I am the reaper of souls,
and you are the one
for whom the knell tolls.
Forever I have waited for you to turn blue,
now I have your permanent seal.
Just for the record, which lie did you buy
to make you believe that He wasn't real?
.
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 11:50 PM UTC
Bleed a cold,
Starve a fever,
Pray the plague don't come
Looking for you, unbeliever.
Don't sneeze at disease,
Or stick yourself with an arrow,
Just stack your dead
In the wheelbarrow.
Dec 9, 2019
Dec 9, 2019 at 5:30 PM UTC
Not yet plant or earth but soon.
Not yet runes or sin immune
In this room, and as my tomb,
My voice, only speaks as blooms:
Maybe then the creatures and eaters
Can make a home out of this unbeliever
For maybe I perceived or perhaps I was the deceiver
But I hope that in death,
I could be their redeemer
So when the weavers weave their homes
All along my bones,
My tryst with the reaper
Are where the feasts were.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 10:04 AM UTC
Supernal king,
Thy beauty is lofty, and thy love is imposing!
You are neither haughty,
nor divided,
neither spiteful,
nor malevolent,
Whatever an unbeliever may say to the contrary!
Supernal king,
Thy repute is worthy of extolment!
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 11:26 AM UTC
That morning wasn't like any other.
I saw her and knew we were meant together.
We talked for the first time.
We were young and in our prime.
"Hi", I said.
"Hi", she replied.
I faltered mentioning her name.
For she wasn't like those i regard as mere game.
"Do I know you?" she asked.
And just like that my confidence was halfed.
But I knew I just couldn't give up.
Maybe a chance, then later a breakup.
I still see her sometimes.
With such passion, it never dies.
This day i write hoping to let go forever.
To this, i'm still an unbeliever.
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
Connecting with the Umma
In space and time,
Prostrate in prayer
Contained and comforted
By the mosque’s sanguine light,
The ordered lines of acolytes
In reverential rows.
All herein was ordered and controlled,
Gender’s appropriately separated,
The air devoid of ****** musk,
All done correctly to dusty text.
Outside, oh outside, is chaos
The kaffir engaged in godless behaviour
Flesh exhibited in defiance of god’s
Thousand clearly expressed rules
Remorselessly recorded within
The rippling shadows of sand.
That unknown form sitting in judgement
In a heavenly court, unseen and oblique,
But remarkably like the courts of men.
Tainted thoughts of the unbeliever-
Intimate touches in the moonlight,
Caresses in the sunlight
Laughing, singing, and drinking,
Unaccustomed to strict religious
Contemplation, the rightful punishments
That occasion neglect.
The serpentine gaiety unravelling his solemn mind.
He held his throbbing
Head as he released himself from prayer;
Walking outside the women’s exposed flesh
Gave him murderous ideas.
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 5:06 PM UTC
Oh God, oh God,
Oh Jesus Christ,
God ******* ******
The child lifts his head and weeps.
He has just awoken
and his skin burns, burns
Holy hell, he's stretching out
Let's get a blanket, let's get a hammer
He won't stay still.
God, what a mess
Jesus in heaven, **** me
**** the inflammation and the scratching,
The fruit that is ripe
And that which is rotten
down to the pit.
**** it all.
Are you there, God?
It's me, the unbeliever.
I may have been a bit impertinent,
But Jesus ******* Christ,
if you could have seen him
You would forgive me in an instant.
But he stays under the stars.
He appears only to me
Like some kind of theophany, a dream;
You have not seen him,
And so I remain
in your divine eyes, a sinner
with the hands of a saint.
Strike me down.
Mar 14, 2015
Mar 14, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
I used to never be able to see what she had and I didn't
when all I ever wanted was to walk you home
I always knew those wood chips wouldn't amount to anything,
band t-shirt and clothes we picked out that were too cool
Cold coffee and watching you fall asleep at the table,
sitting in supermarkets and hopeful hopelessness
Now I see what you see in her
Paint splattered skinny jeans cross legged on her bedroom floor,
vinyls of all the bands you loved,
the ones I never gave a chance
She says every night
how cute
nice
funny you are
and all the little things you do that make her smile like she didn't know was possible
And all I want to say is I know
I know about the devils he chooses to hide, and the problems that do and don't affect him
I want to say You know how he gets when he's angry? Like all the calmness in his body flows out like a river through his mouth straight to my heart with words like promises being broken?
But the truth is she probably doesn't
She probably doesn't know of the rivers in you
or the strange quirks that make you blow up,
while others you try your hardest to avoid fighting with me about
"We all have our own opinions," you'd say
I am guessing - only guessing -
She is the blood coursing in your veins,
the lack of reassurance she needs and the problems she doesn't complain about
Well, that's a nice break from me
She doesn't have to apologize a million times for accusing you of lying
When all you wanted to do
was make me believe.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 7:33 PM UTC