Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Everything I once knew has been stilled:

I fathomed my mother’s voice whispering
In my juvenescence,
She weaved a tapestry of tales
Whilst her pearlescent eyes
They glistened,
Enveloped by downy lashes
Ebony and yet unassuming
For
The night domineered.
Unblemished enough to
Garner the praise
In the clarity of
My reverential heart,
As I lay there
Tucked in,
Once peacefully,
Yet now shaken
By
The disquietude
Of the restless twilight,
Upon an azure king-sized mattress
Primped in creaseless Space Jam sheets.


They were set by
The grace of her manicured hands
However slightly,
Chestnut and replete
That longed to,
By the Blessed Oracle
Speaking with a God,
Summon the Salvation
Of my long lost rest
That Raged Leviathan
Where,
To be cocooned in The Sea of Shadows
The thew of dreams would be born.

She sanctified my fears
Like coal oppressed for aeons
By
That Treasured Sphere
(Terraqueous Gaia)
Until by
The Womb of the Mountainous Mother,
Were reborn
As the Children of Diamonds.

Or perhaps
Like a baptismal kiss
That floweth from an ivory chalice
By which
The soil of my life flowered,
For a quaked youth was
Bestowed
With a fading taste
Of the transcendence at dawn
Poured upon my palate
Until
The Garden of the Valiant
Bursted into bloom.
(Tis where the Behemoth lay nestled
Under the Age Old Tree of Life
And Sylphs soar beneath iridescent twilit skies
Illuminated by Providence
Of the Half-Faced Crimson Moon).


If I so chose
I could
Be anything
That
I imagined, even
Today.

Ephemeral though
Those moments were
My reminiscence
Doth memorialize in crystal stasis
My infantile longing,
Tis ceaseless in its yearning
To be comforted
When
Pangs overtake me:

But what fable is my weapon
Now?
The Hallowed Excalibur,
Or perhaps even The Ultima Weapon
With the Impenetrable Aegis
Imparted by
The Mighty Crystal
Bestowing might to its Anointed
The ones who war with their own iniquity,
Until their paths align
Like celestial bodies
And they’ve arisen triumphant,
Eclipsed the fictitious light
Of a false deity
Who besmirched the truths
That upheld The Cosmos
Since its genesis?

There is one tale,
(Lean in, listen closely,
This is my Susurrus in the Night)
Tis no figment
And one I found most favorable,
One of a man
Simple,
Strong,
Stunning,
Sound,
Sapient,
And high over all but
The Desideratum of the Holy,
The one to whom
Even the angels, seraphs, and cherubs bow.

He was scourged
In flesh and spirit
Till his pulse was silenced,
His inestimable blood
Prophesied to vanquish
Chaos and
The Futile Wind
Of life
That by
By the disobedience of
Our
Tarnished Father,
Is now
An accursed child

She
Is effaced by
Time
(For Sorrow has no end)
And
Tormented by Space.
(Height,
Breadth,
And depth,
O that Existential Fabric)
His caverns
Condemned Her
Without
Compassion.

The thought of solitude
Looming in mortality
Were the dreadful horns
Of an Auroch that
Pierced
Her consciousness
Until by
Proud Oppression
Hope
In its frailty
Was a dandelion
Strewn by skinless hands
Against the immaterial
Brush of the breeze.

To flourish then
Wither,
Wax and
Wane;
Never
Was a fate
That our God intended.
For eternity shines and
Is a supernova
In the galaxy of our hearts
And though undiscerned
By many
Has always been
And
Will always be
The Cherished Wish of the Stars,
For though we are an exhalation
By contradistinction,
Even they become nebulous
Fading into dust.

We shall
Become
Exalted and ennobled
Even to these who are
Of the luminaries,
Lowly
Brothers and sisters
Without Ears,
Eyes,
Hearts,
Or minds.

Yes,
(These vibrations resonate from the Cosmo-Plexus of Love)
Soon enough they say,
Soon enough.
Hey guys, this poem is written as a thematic embodiment of a religious-based autobiographical piece I am in the process of assembling (It will be a metaphorical interlude if you will in between two segments of the piece and thus act as a segue). It was written as a free-verse piece. I have not written in about a month which has given me time to reflect and introspectively examine the Universe around me; consequently, I hope that you guys can perceive my metamorphosis in my month long cocooning as a writer. I wanted to encapsulate the whimsicality, fancifulness, and innocence of youth by incorporating myth, imagery, and imagination (almost reminiscent of a fairy-tale whispered to a child before bed, hence the title "A Susurrus in the Night"). I kind of rushed putting this out because I was so eager to share with you guys, so forgive me if it's not as refined as my usual writings. *Since posting I have edited it on this website* I this does not convolute and thus make it less understandable! I have so much to say through this piece! Thank you so much for your support and God bless!
Josh May 2013
Is it I or them, that fate has forced
to shadow in my lifeless eyes
for truth has bitterness to pay
and flame light flares along its path

when right and wrong are undiscerned
and creatures stir within their cage
when parents clip the wings of birds
and suffer them their broken ways

there lives between uncertain wrongs
an urge to end the war outside
to flee from all you say is true
and debts that cost too much to pay

yet finding manifested strong
the time to read between the lies
we spindle back the fraying cord
that blindly leads us to the grave

I've sauntered to the blackened gates
and laughed out at the red inside
that fails pride and injures truth
and falls down where it cannot rise
ConnectHook Sep 2015
You were telling him about Buddha,
you were telling him about Mohammed in the same breath
You never mentioned one time the Man who came
and died a criminal’s death.     [Bob Dylan: Precious Angel]

If Christ and His Gospel are offered you
you squirm—then dredge up the gods of the East.
Your act of avoidance is nothing new—
salvation proposed: evasion increased.
Waxing socialistic – as if on cue
your blustering is consistent, at least.
you brandish your anti-Christ point of  view.
Descending like Darwin: angel to beast.
In Babylon’s gardens you disembark
to deconstruct Noah, the flood, the ark.
On Gilgamesh, Enkidu, in madness
you ramble—and it fills me with sadness.
There is one truth, undiscerned, unadored.
Be still. In silence, acknowledge your Lord.
Proof #1: Man has no natural desire or ability to obey or please God for salvation.

Proof #2: God expressly denies man's will or works in obtaining salvation.

Proof #3: Faith and works are results of salvation, not conditions or means for it.

Proof #4: Jesus Christ saves sinners by Himself without any human cooperation.

Proof #5: The gospel and its ordinances were never intended to give eternal life.

Proof #6: The Bible gives examples of sinners saved without any conditions.

Proof #7: Unconditional salvation is the only doctrine giving God all the glory.
Allison Rose Sep 2013
One day I am walking, walking past a stone
I see a painted pattern undiscerned.
A marbled sort of mess, in shades of grey and brown,
the mass before me wears a cloak unlearned.

And to pass it by I am so apathetically inclined…



But upon closer inspection, I am surprised to find
a stone more tightly packed than first imagined.
The  large  and  solid  mass, from  distance looking  pure
Brought to light is seen to be deception.
The pattern I first saw, of messy marbled streaks
reveals to be of more compound complexion.

I feel the want to approach it closer…


When I with curious eyes delight to look more closely
I  can  see  the tiny  bits  of  rock  and bone,
sand  and  shining  mica, and shards  of  shell infused  
bits and pieces all combined to  solid  form.
I recall the recent past, when only grey had cloaked this rock,  
A spot that from a distance yawned a monochrome,
And I see this spot is parcel of a hundred tiny pieces–
An unapparent universe in stone.

I am now a nose’s length from this sight superior...

The closer that I draw to this planetary exterior
The I more I see each particle discrete.
I think that if I took a hammer, and blasted it apart
Each sediment could be a stone complete.
If I am solid body, what is to say
That I could not be so composite underneath?
I could be a thousand microchosms, from the inside out;
My solid form is only the relief.

And yet that I would find companion in this ordinary stone
Is destiny of day quite unforeseen
Discovered by surprise, while in this boredom’s hefty hour,
Retracing over simple path routine.
But more surprising still, while I’m comparing flesh to earth,
I can’t decide if it more likely seems seems
That stones resemble bodies, pieces making up a whole,
Or if bodies help us view the Earth extreme.

I think I may be too up close to see.
I am walking past this stone to let it be.
Pamela Oct 2020
A song of beauty, a storm of sadness
Coexist in my heart
Neath the stone cold outer, it hurts and heals
Letting in gale after gale, not once the lock holding fast
Limerence and love collide, collide
Reality and fantasy alternate, tide after tide

In one life, we live a million different lives
In one life, we traverse a thousand miles
Knowing or unknowing, we touch many a life
Some left despondent, some with smiles

So much to do, so much to say
So much regret we carry, each and every day
So many lessons learnt, yet not one nigh
Not one nigh the art of saying goodbye

Clouded by hunger and bound by thirst
We see what we want to, unless coerced
Nostalgic, for the past we mourn and yearn
The present awaits us, undiscerned
Life passes us by, mutely we spectate
Gate-crashed by ebbs and flows, rendered desolate

We do things wrong, we do them right
Lost in the immense horizon, we lose sight
Whatever our secrets, we confide in the night
For, the moon and stars, hold wisdom erudite

Long after it is gone, we stay and wait
What holds us back, it never abates
All the will we summon goes awry
For never have we known the art of saying goodbye
This speaks about how difficult it is for us to let go and say goodbye to something that doesn't exist anymore.
Setenance Aug 2014
a timeless serpent
carves its name into the land
without purpose
without conscience
a timeless serpent
of unending perception
proceeds in undiscerned direction
churning with the bitter momentum of wisdom

a single path
dares to defy
uncalculated choice
and infinite balance
a single path
weathers vaporous contempt
and its precipitates
descending to concatenate
stark, shocking knowledge
and ignorant, senseless entities
Allison Rose Sep 2013
One day I am walking, walking past a stone
I see a painted pattern undiscerned.
A marbled sort of mess, in shades of grey and brown,
the mass before me wears a cloak unlearned.





But upon closer inspection, I am surprised to find
a stone more tightly packed than first imagined.
The  large  and  solid  mass, from  distance looking  pure
Brought to light is seen to be deception.
The pattern I first saw, of messy marbled streaks
reveals to be of more compound complexion.




When I with curious eyes delight to look more closely
I  can  see  the tiny  bits  of  rock  and bone,
sand  and  shining  mica, and shards  of  shell infused  
bits  and  pieces  fused  in  solid  form.
I recall the recent past, when only grey had cloaked this rock,  
A spot that from a distance yawned a monochrome,
And I see this spot is parcel of a hundred tiny pieces–
An unapparent universe in stone.



The closer that I draw to this planetary exterior
The I more I see each particle discrete.
I think that if I took a hammer, and blasted it apart
Each sediment could be a stone complete.
If I am solid body, who is there to say
That I'm not so composite underneath?
A thousand microchosms, from the inside out;
My solid form is only the relief.

That I would find companion in this ordinary stone
Is destiny of day quite unforeseen
Discovered by surprise, in boredom’s hefty hour,
Tracing over simple path routine.
But more surprising still, while comparing flesh to earth,
I can’t decide if it more likely seems seems
That stones resemble bodies, pieces of a whole,
Or if bodies help us view the Earth extreme.

I think I may be too up close to see.
So I am walking past this stone to let it be.
Yanamari Aug 2019
Push
And there's a
Pull
A smile
After you
Cry
Tears
Always evaporating, cheeks
Dry

Gaze
Unreturned
Conversations
Undiscerned
Value
Unlea­rned
Forgotten



A yell,

No turn
Words churned
In the instability
I am floating in
Unable to earn
The desires that I
Yearn
Locked in my frozen
Urn


Floating in
Uncontrollable colour changing tar
The one thing I expected
To remain constant
Was the lack of equilibrium
And I .... Why is it you're looking...
Looking at me?
Pers Ref: WA 2Aug (Butter). Is it really the beginning of equilibration?
Ken Pepiton Sep 2024
In our tiny cyberspace in the vast Amazon Web Services
cloud of constant knowing cognatively in all
197 current wikipaedian accents on thought,

assisted intell true interest answers

aitia, clame blame take the shame
and shove it where no light shines,
not hell, null, it’s a state, a field,
from which only wiser men
develop consciousnesses
useful at awesome intensities…

Bubble ensample, determined
first time readers, find each letter
allows a slow
down, we think too fast, because,
half of us are one side of a swell in hope,
the fidelity of we, survivors, by luck,

no lie, I just got by.

Imagine, we all have imagined, already,

how might a lifeless Mars be terraformed,
we have imagined, as we imagined Earth
without form, and void, in lightless ever, once

timeless primordial lack of relativity
to form spans of time from point
whenever, once
a we called elohim, as if
'ello, heem is calling, are we
home as where never is heard

a discouraging word,
imagine, in your courAzone
auming om howling beat, rapt
to whole bubbles of being, being
once, as the entire concept of one we,
bottled up, capped, under pre-assurance
fizzy quantum could be good, try umph,
if it works with just a little tri, umph
is good, but too much try, defeats
all umph willing to spin donuts,
and make smoke,
real, do this for a living, allatime,
our mental realm, realm-mighty fine,
realm of overwhelming reasons, actual ways
forcing adverse reactions, working statistical,
ifical and magi knowing, chances are we find
a mindstate, a point in pastless space effects
-timeless efforts imagining timelessness,
energize the whole process, peace made on war.

any willing to imagine finding a story that allowed
first gift I received in California, was a video tape
"The Never Ending Story". Noted, on the pages,
using the pre-Ai antagonists reverse twist,

to watch the flow go the other way, because we can
think in terms of instant replay, way out of bounds,
unless, yes, more further still, will we achieve,

the assumed we that docents use to lead into
the intial levels of money for being born on Earth,

as the most precious resource in the new U
Rules of Engagement, guage response, twist,

make time a test, patience, use, intuited ew, mustard

state is interesting, al ways stop, see, resting
inter mental construement, stretching a point,
intermittent messaging confirmed
intended to catalyze
furthermore
as double tribomechanically activated zeolite clinoptilolite  
-- that's real, we, at our most wide imaginable weform,
we make good use of that stuff… the bubble
of those who know what use it has, is small…
---------------
furthermore, yes, tobe, to be, robed as truths known
beautifully malleable - substance, stuff, material re-ality,
ra' thirst signal, loss of ductility, embending doom,
Costco Mango Juice, could not be sweeter, assume,
in my per-if-I wish to pay attention,
to the sound of a grandaughter singing,
as if the whole world should hear how happy she is,
and she forgot, here, in this same spirit then had in it
us, the others in the prime state of life,
in this instance, first day of autumn,
in rolling chapparal,
fire season, always was predictable, or successfully
prayed away, as we always gathered,
after Harvest Moon,

times for being simple human sapien, sapiently pass, hope
working all the wonders first discerned, when old ways
amen
made a bond
and old measures taken
to make good balance, valuable
knowledge for spindles and wheels and axel hubs,
and steel belted radial tires, same idea, balance,

smooth turn, return,
remediation meditation situation,
ryhmes rime **** head tilts,
looks at us, askance asking have we noticed

life seems more worth preserving, while conserving,
eh, weighing the worth of knowing why,

Mayan society developed into what Mexico is today,
infected with the stories that survived the book burnings,

same form of knowledge ra', pride's pa, mine

plead ingeniousness, wissen und kennen ignosis
ignition, iggy pop… spark, breath, flame, tickle, feel

the curling in the toes of those with hell holding theories,

the weapons of my warfare, my mind made augmentable,
ready readers prodigies, easily shaped
into informal weforms  

-- old man, what was that like,
you moved to town in 1943,
as an eleven year old boy…

-- well, he said, we had electricity.
and that made quite a difference…

my mother's younger brother, some how
that tie never broke, we spoke,
this is furthermore, 2024,

I am imagining, which, it seems is a game,
devised, I have been advised to keep my mind
on track, for total catalytic disillusionment,

after the convergence of learned ways
true math works out for good, while money

invested in creating collectively minded individuals,
team mind binders, collectively educated,

classically, conserves the original intent behind,
the curtain on the navel of the world, so shy,
noble lie, guardians are essential minds to make up;
action movies did the trick, right, Aldous,
Ape and Essences gets its props.
boom
blink of an eye, instantly too strange to rearrange,
set and setting, trust and obey, define, our range,

our bubble of being the we involved in the event,
your reading our last will and testament, in terms

as yet undiscerned, on balance, taking all we grew through,
as if we grew from those environs,
not those ones in Dublin,

or Flushing, or Boca Raton… tabula rasa

where peace begins, you

hold your breath to find it, you stop
I stop
you think, I think, we both breathe, but
across the actual experiential universe, as awe
the state, expands as more outs come on,

sparklers from my soul, good vibrations,
only taken to extremes, never let seem ordinary

these days are not our dreams, this is as planned,
manifestation of fruiting bodies
seed, time, harvest, process, put to good use,

mankind, wombed or un, augmented or not, mankind
sows seeds of same kindness,

golden rule, straight edge sharper than any two edged sword,
light saber sharp, the mythteriothity, sheer shibbolethargy,

energize any idea, a ra' idea, hard to think possible, but, known
knowing such things, the depths of literary depravity, made
literally true, due to capital investments in lead, and coal,
and copper and all the minerals Afghanistan has,

war, takes my breath away, I am intending combat,
at one level of preparation, this feels laughingly enjoyable.

Take truth's bitter sweet knowledge, we all know, to some degree

what happens when any we forms an agreement no I may break,

it is no secret what truth does to hidden shamefilled monstors.

U on the pond, reflecting, who is asking you?

Should we all be actually required to become
a knower of the ruliad realms real estimate,

how long from nuclear antagnoboom whata a rush,

it's seventy two minutes, and counting,
down, so what's a manmindkind of thing
to do to be part in the last poem I may right,

let me count the days, if Daniel's right,
right, let us not think minutes, whose word

should we heed, here, ask truth, she is wisdom,
she say, how stupid are we, I ask,
and we agree we underst
ate the depth of our order, few ever read this.

So the feeling of a first time reader, is faded out…
The story gives itself& access to my used once tools to measure a minute's worth.
Mark Wanless Nov 2017
"Measure"


The measure held between the stars
       and i, galaxies it seems
They touch me somewhere. Sympathetic flesh
       belies distant magnitudes.
Undiscerned discerned affinity bounds all
       circumferent particles
Manifold space waves ageless
       vacuum conjoined move.
measure does not exist outside the human brain,unless your not human
Kurt Philip Behm May 2024
Living alone
in quantum space
vibrations
dually churn

Hiding behind
a simple rhyme
their essence
undiscerned

Turned into words
exposed at last
where time and
memory join

Feigning the praise
for something they’re not
disparaged
— and purloined

(Villanova University: May, 2024)

— The End —