"uncreated" poems
The world is small even heaven isn't big
but an uncreated Word is,
an expression of love and promise!
The tale of the beginning
the tale of the end without the ending.
Soon God said it 'Qun' be
bang it couldn't be bigger indeed.
Everything small and big the complete
creations panache came to be so big!
The body is small the soul came in the front
and every soul big banged in one go.
All heard the same Word it was only one
that sets the tone for the first to the last
so sweet it took everyone’s heart!
The death wouldn’t touch the soul
that already died but couldn’t die.
Revived there and then instantly,
hearing the 'Qun' the uncreated melody!
Crooned up even through the dead-end
surged up to the other side of the black hole.
Like a waxing Moon passed over, crossing
the asleep body in the shadow, yet in the making!
Unable to resist it, the first big bang
didn’t happen amidst the material entity
not in the star, milky way or in the galaxy.
Adam was yet to be in the body
the physical ear was yet to hear it!
Unlike the tuned in abyss soul there
that harks and the clouds rise and rain
only to revert back to the sea
showering the shallow terraqueous body.
He said ‘Qun’ again and the first physical big bang
on the matter takes place in Fathima’s joint
interlacing her live soul and pre-design body.
It cuts through the irrational pi in between
the soul and body so that gel in melody!
With pure love without a condition
that shall keep up perpetuating the body!
Nature that was yet to be, gets a mirror in its entirety
and bangs big hearing an echo of ‘Qun’ be, says the Almighty
it comes to be and shall perish only to be an eternal body!
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
The Creator
The original
Aboriginal
Indigenous
Australians
In their Dreaming
Uncreated Baiame
The Sky Father
Creator of everything
But who created
This creator God
Mythological
Theological
Like everyones
Too similar and
Geographically
Universally spread
To be explained by
One Big Bang
But still I ask
Who created
The uncreated
Creator
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 4:09 AM UTC
The morning came slowly on that third day
The sun wondered how it might be able to shine through such darkness
The tears of the earth came early in the dew that morning
The flowers began to bloom in an open defiance to the earth
Perhaps the decaying body of the Lord gave them new life
The birds sang songs of jubilee that morning, as if there were reason for joy
Did they not know that the Light of the World had been snuffed out?
Did they not know that the one who fed them had gone away?
Did they not know that their creator lay below them dead in the ground?
Or did they sing defiantly knowing what we yet did not know?
Much like it had been in Bethlehem decades before, the world was silent
Breaking the silence like the Divine Child’s cries, somewhere a child cried
As if this child knew that his Lord lay dead below the earth
As if he could feel the thick darkness that surrounded him
But then, in defiance like only a child could bring, the first laughter in days
The new world was cold, dark, and bitter, and a child dared to laugh
While the rest of the world cried and mourned the death of their only hope
This child laughed while the birds sang and the flowers bloomed
It was as if they did not know that the Life of the World was still dead
Rather, though, it was as if they had read the prophets of old, and believed
When the sun finally rose, it could not shine through the thick darkness
We lived in a dark purgatorial world where we awaited the judgement
What a terrible judgement that must be coming toward us
We, who drove the nails into His hands, and gave Him over to death
But then, a glimmer of light comes upon the horizon
The light was not the rising of the sun, but some holy other
Those disciples who had run away while He hung on the cross ran again
This time not away from their Savior, but toward that otherworldly light
When they came to where He has been buried, they fell upon their faces
The brightest light to ever grace this old world poured out of the tomb
Then they heard a voice, the voice of the Risen Lord
‘Rise up you men of earth’ He said to the men lying facedown
‘Rise up oh you sleepers!’
‘Behold the Light of the World is upon you’
It was then that the world began its slow change
The cosmos, which had fractured so long ago in Eden, began to mend
Dead men rose to new life
Dark places were then filled with life
The world became a new place where the old had passed away
Every crack and crevice filled with an uncreated light never before seen
For the Lord has risen from the dead!
Indeed He has defeated death!
And forever, we shall keep the feast !
Alleluia!
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 7:46 PM UTC
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It's not an empty jar
It's an uncreated vision!
That's not a rusty car
It's artistic collision.
What's a tire without
A little slash?
Don't throw me away
**** my trash.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 10:51 PM UTC
A poem.
Can be on many theme?
And many topics too.
And can express many into a debate.
Even causing problems upon a date.
A poem.
That creative expressionism of your mind.
Where you just spilling out things deep inside?
Wait!
The uncreated loves to put them down.
Oh, they offer many reasons.
But many times.
It just because they can't create.
A poem.
That has been around for centuries.
And truly apart of Americans history.
Emily Dickinson, James Baldwin and O'henry.
Has left behind plenty.
They make you think.
They make you cry.
And keep you connect to your mind.
Whether it's about romance.
Yes, that includes love.
We need poems around.
To release the frustration inside.
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 10:35 AM UTC
On Death’s domain intent I fix my eyes,
Where human nature in vast ruin lies:
With pensive mind I search the drear abode,
Where the great conqu’ror has his spoils bestow’d;
There there the offspring of six thousand years
In endless numbers to my view appears:
Whole kingdoms in his gloomy den are ******
And nations mix with their primeval dust:
Insatiate still he gluts the ample tomb;
His is the present, his the age to come.
See here a brother, here a sister spread,
And a sweet daughter mingled with the dead.
But, Madam, let your grief be laid aside,
And let the fountain of your tears be dry’d,
In vain they flow to wet the dusty plain,
Your sighs are wafted to the skies in vain,
Your pains they witness, but they can no more,
While Death reigns tyrant o’er this mortal shore.
The glowing stars and silver queen of light
At last must perish in the gloom of night:
Resign thy friends to that Almighty hand,
Which gave them life, and bow to his command;
Thine Avis give without a murm’ring heart,
Though half thy soul be fated to depart.
To shining guards consign thine infant care
To waft triumphant through the seas of air:
Her soul enlarg’d to heav’nly pleasure springs,
She feeds on truth and uncreated things.
Methinks I hear her in the realms above,
And leaning forward with a filial love,
Invite you there to share immortal bliss
Unknown, untasted in a state like this.
With tow’ring hopes, and growing grace arise,
And seek beatitude beyond the skies.
1.8k
Saintly cassock,
Glittering altar
Ornamental pulpit.
Driving the congregants
in a paroxysm of fib,
Gullibility enshrines adherents
hearts.
Do you know the Messiah more
than the apostles ?
Thou traders in the temple.
Parrotic tongues set out
commands
Loquacious sweet-coated mouths
misdirects faithfuls.
But the uncreated Creator who
creates creatures watches
Dreadful silence astonishingly
permeates the entireness
of the universe.
Do you preach love?
Do you follow peace with all?
Ye robbers in the temple.
Command darkness to produce
light.
But you turned moonlight into
tale.
Can you display Davidic dance
steps on the road?
Profanity of sanctuary with
false homiletics.
Merchants of dross in tabernacle
Speak.
Let us hear you.
Preach
To the congregants.
Righteousness afar from the
apron of faith.
Charity locked up in the
tunic of hope.
Sanctity of holiness sprinkled
into the tributary of sin.
Commanding the stars to turn
to sun,
Captains of night in light.
Ye robbers in the sanctuary.
Pastoral advertisers of chattels
in the tabernacle,
Merchandising gold dross in
sermonic hymns.
Sugar-coated doctrine wept in
the tomb of Lazarus.
Prompting Him to weep again?
Ye merchants in synagogue.
Disentangle faithfuls from the
webs of worriment.
Dislodge congregants out of the
shackles of sin.
Deliver ignoramus from the
isle of incendiary.
Let the sifter of strength
separate out afflictions from
feebleminded faithfuls.
Ye robbers in the temple
You love prayers more than God
But who answers prayers?
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
When the intelligent design was
sizzling and shining in the soul,
and the rest were still in deep mute
yet one was playing the lute!
Paradise saw me, to her I drew
and tweet “So beautiful are you.”
Pronto, the heaven turned around,
as if the first light after the eternal night
hovers on her lips like she then spoke.
Hissed to me, “without prejudice
am I by design the enduring showpiece.
So ask me what's indeed the beauty is.”
Without blowing a horn or waxing lyrical I say:
Didn’t it blur before you, that a magic snap?
The first reflection of the feminine form
on your golden spiral smoothed out water,
because she breathed on it, on the spot.
Up till now did you view this intact mirror?
Only one drop, keeping tight into the core with
a shadow of the reflection within doled out.
Instantly croons in and danced through every
river across your one hundred layers.
You are still painting on, go on take your time!
Even the atom from the bottom of the black hole
reaches out to the water, the feminine did it first.
Peering through the water’s skin she floats
with the utmost high-surfaced designs into mirror.
Only the primo wonder of the all one peerless God
looks on it, there is no veil except the one is her!
The Uncreated Word, fluid beyond, finest mellifluent
coined the creation, only to loop back to itself far greater.
Therein the root the first (pure light) feminine rose,
for good ever after blossoming flower!
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 10:47 PM UTC
Look at us pseudo clever race of ignorance,
Addicted to entertainment our only common
Pleasure filled pain. We will fight to maintain
An uncomfortable satisfying false reality
A reality where we all are individuals controlled by
Another uncontrolled individual.
Through a maze of tunnels lies the mystic wastes
Smoke filled shanties makeshift villages and,
Dim lit ***** dens
The marijuana plants in the basement
Grow into the hard wood floors of the cigar rooms
Of an ancient aristocrat mansion
No infested with the ***** demons of the wasteland
Goats amongst sheep, the bring rolled joys
To dying black hearts of the innocent sinful
Humans in our civilized chaos.
Renaming our creators for the simple bliss of renaming a unnamed
Uncreated creator.
Feb 13, 2012
Feb 13, 2012 at 9:28 AM UTC
fall through the floor of the elevator,
held up by corkscrew works:
here it is quiet and
there is invisible fog and
the characters are dull replicas
save for the receptionist,
just a lonely purple and orange
painted singular eye,
and her assistant, the trace.
*when I've found someone
I feel even lonelier
to know how hollow they are,
just presets and language*
and there is
a terrible hole
in the vents,
or the attic,
where
everything leaches out
to the colourless
uncreated
nothing.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC
“What did you have for breakfast?”
Cereal with milk, I think.
“Toast with Nutella,” I blurt out.
Just another innocuous lie
You believe it.
Why wouldn’t you
So
I begin alter reality
In small ways
Soon
I reconstruct my life
One day
I am Ford Prefect
No longer awkward, towel always present, the number 42
memorized
While on other days,
I am the smallest non-bonded hydrogen atom
Enjoying anonymity,
Hiding everywhere, being everything, finally fully
Present.
One day
I am caught
My yet-uncreated self
Snagged in thorny lies
By days I forgot
To distort
I cease to
exist
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:22 PM UTC
From the conscious silence to the nomenclatural sound....
From the existential time to the reverberating silence...
Existential sound from the evolving time....
Evolved time from the sustained silence...
Time drenched into the time breeding timeless life....
Life is creator and creation,
It is the play of both of them,
We are their children and everyone of us,
Not just only human beings,every creature on the planet...
Existence is not human-centric,
We are living in the creation,creator is beyond physical....
Life is the voice of the creation,
and the source of our life cannot be seen through our eyes as it is more subtler and beyond physical,
Life is ubiquitous,there is nothing which does not have memory....
Even nothing which is everything and which is life also does have memory.....
Their memory is to act according to the intentions of other lives,
They carry our intentions and consequences,
Intentions and consequences are not apart,they are in the same moment
but one may descry the consequences after a certain period,
but they happen at the same moment as intentions does happen,
Silence bred sound,
and the sound bred me,
And then I am going to dissolve in to the silence......
Life is uncreated,In other words it created itself....
Let me dissolve in to the source....
You cannot breed consciousness nor silence nor the source of life,
one can only dissolve in to the larger entity....
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 8:01 AM UTC
To be no more; sad cure; for who would loose,
Though full of pain, this intellectual being,
Those thoughts that wander through Eternity,
To perish rather, swallowd up and lost
In the wide womb of uncreated night, [ 150 ]
Devoid of sense and motion?
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 12:39 PM UTC
Slow as tomorrow uncreated
I've wandered down the empty roads of time
Waiting to taste your laughter
Waiting to hold your smile
It seems an enormous hour
Since I've felt soft patterns like your mind
Knowing those faint perfumes
The scents of your words touching mine
Alone with you is like the sunrise
Glowing through the new warming earth
The sadnesses of unknown sorrows
The pains of time I've long forgot
Music of our desire freezes
A quick lilting tune without end
Though I know I'll never hold you forever
Feeling that I'll never taste you again.
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 2:34 AM UTC
If the pattern's unpredictable
What can I depend on
What does it mean to need someone
As far as I can tell
I don't even need myself
My heart doesn't beat because I say so
It beats for its creator
It beats because that's what it was made for
I tried to follow reason
It only took me so long
To see that all creation
Begins with the uncreated one
After the hypothesis and details
It was pretty simple
Our sin broke the system
And still your love persisted
That I never could have predicted
Jun 13, 2020
Jun 13, 2020 at 4:59 PM UTC
To fill the silences of the ambience,
To unravel the sounds of the existence,
To frolic with the air and fire,
To dance on water,
To breath in space,
To fuse with land,
To see who is me and who is not me,
And understand there is nothing that is un-me,
To understand the fusion of the creation and creator,
To swim in the clouds that metamorphoses the moisture,(of air)
To hover in the air without wings,
To evade the stop that hurts me id est to killing the time wherefore it holds the universe,
To understand the cause of the origin of the universe,
To understand and explore the time,
Which is darkness,
To understand the darkness,
To understand how from darkness somethingness emanate,
To **** the time as my life exists in time,,
To portray the creation,
To kiss the venomous cobra,
To create the uncreated,
To dissolve into creation,
To rendezvous with the one who is responsible for this oneness,
To staunch into the silence,
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 10:25 AM UTC
Back into my mother’s womb back into the unknown world of the uncreated,
Back into my childhood land back to Eden where I was manifested,
How I wish to be a child again a world where only the innocence dwells,
Back into the times when I be filled with joy and happiness,
A child concerned about playing with my friends,
A child dedicated to hide and seek it was so much fun,
My first spoken words my first step into the world,
A taste of my mother’s milk to touch but I could not reach,
A face that is out of space to distinguish I could not race,
Familiar and weird places funny strange embraces,
How I would love to be a child again,
The land where only innocence dwells,
My first walk out of being incapacitated,
My first wake from the land of the dead,
My first bite of a thing called butter and bread,
My first time I am no longer spoon fed,
A bicycle ride into the land of misery and suffering,
Little did I know chaos was on the horizon waiting?
How I wish to be a child again,
My first encounter with the burning sun and the pouring rain,
My first fight with malaria and the injections that brought me pain,
My first initiation from childhood to manhood,
The hustle and tussle with earning my daily bread,
A sigh of defeat when I lie in my bed,
Ooh how I wish I had never have to say,
A child again to my God I pray to this day,
The land where only innocence dwells,
A land where guilt and regret do not dare stay,
A place where there is neither night nor day,
A home where you only stay and don’t go away,
A child again my Lord that’s all I am saying,
Back into my mother’s womb back into the unknown world,
© ISSAI MASHINGO
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 7:06 AM UTC
two summers ago we sat in dark hallways and you shined a flashlight through my palm and traced the veins that threaded my fingers. we kissed like children, with closed mouths and open eyes and searched for answers in the bottom of an orange bottle of pills. you wept the first time you tried to touch me and i flinched away because in the world i grew up, a hand laid on my skin became punishment. you faded away at the end of a rope after too many years of a heart that bled with the pain of someone much older, a sacrifice for the uncreated child you longed for and i was alone in the same hallways in which we used to brush hands
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 8:58 PM UTC
I've become this
plain Jane person
Melted into a crowd of
lost souls
Drained from passions, dreams,
& individuality
A subject of America
land of the free
Home of the NAIVE
to think this is "living"
to waste 100 years
never "living"
for objects, &
replaceable trinkets
Not seeing the uncreated
memories & unbiased truth
what it is to me was
more than a nine to 5
but instead I am stagnant
glazed into the layers
upon layers of white
coffee mugs & ceramic
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
Ancient loves killed,
New ones go uncreated,
Trapped by the abyss of lonliness,
There is no freedom here,
This is a judgemental place,
Love is not free,
There is always a darkness we don't see.
Everything falls to pieces,
These pieces no longer fit,
They no longer wish to belong,
Love is the evil running through me,
Hate is in each breath and beating of my heart,
I will be forgotten,
These stories will be abandoned,
There will be no end.
Feb 29, 2012
Feb 29, 2012 at 7:51 AM UTC
Blessed light
Men's hands were not made
For carrying dreams
Swift winds
Men's feet tire before
Hope is reached
Bring the message to me
Spirits in the smoke purer
Than men's speak
Thankee kichigouai
While I temper the stone,
Tender the crops,
Fend the wolves,
Your day burns bright
You speak in dreams
Remind me of the great uncreated
His path was longest so mine could be certain
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
Back when fate was something so true we could hold it in our atlas laced hands things might have been different.
You may think that life can only be an ever consuming sleep but I wish to remind you that does not inhibit us from dreaming.
I believe that one day I will wake up with a knowing;
grasping at any tendril of that which may have been left behind,
with unconsciousness still lingering in my vision.
We learn, criticize and hope
laying in piles of uncreated art.
It is a sad comfort to be human;
a relief much comparable to tearing yourself from a particularly terrible dream.
And we will startle,
again and again,
repeating lines for emphasis,
until we find the truth.
It is then that the dream is over and we return to what is.
I'll talk about God until I meet him in the middle.
I'll talk about God until he comes to me in that dream.
I sleep on my stomach with my back to the stars
and I send my condolences to the moon.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 6:14 PM UTC
i am nothing the dying of closeness to perform
jet
arrayed in ****** o' quivering lightness
my own body softly
in her living muss to fay
mychestherchest
or to bleed a stuttering rill o' life stuff
where carefully is laid a garden o' sleeping children
(uncreated
unlivid
faultless)
lust yet incredibly to fill
crease and crevice burns
and all muscles
the tightness for hurting yearns,
'
.
,
'
.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
Do we really ever slow the soul enough to make
any difference?
Stress-filled moments rushing-on the river of life,
And we are drowning, choking on insignificance
As we grab for more, feet kick hard, sink us low
in mire of strife.
Our latest moment grieved, the new already gone,
And we recoil from the future we must surely meet
in the present
As cruel apprehension rolls dark over face of the
sun
To summon defeat of another life in relentless
Time's engagement.
Born outside the doors of fair Eden, uncreated,
Tick of the Clock but marks the absence of eternity ~
Hole blown in the heart of God ~ time was never
intended,
And now we die so soon as we are born of spirit-
enfleshed infirmity.
Nov 7, 2013
Nov 7, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
Author. Nothing his radar
Escapes. All things he knows,
Even the wind that blows.
All gods ere him stoop, bowing
Together to the majesty in
Heaven's realm. Great his manifold
Wonders. Excellent every craft
And work of his hand. The world
Whole waltz upon his golden cart.
Man, the opus of his creation:
The only in his image cast.
Unequalled in form and fashion--
From his first to his last.
Nought exits that was uncreated;
Nonfictional be the Genesis' account.
Scores of theories scientists great invented--
All, Scripture and faith, does discount.
In awe stand: the Alpha hail; laud the Omega.
May 23, 2013
May 23, 2013 at 3:20 AM UTC