"unholiness" poems
Lost all that there was,
No courage to build new.
Sweet Remorse!
Shadows cast do follow,
Guided by a source.
Fades away!
Being insane a cancer,
Sorrows feed on blissful memories,
Chokes the respect for life,
Death deceives laughter,
I am a doomed ******
Sorrows imperishable bind the soul,
Graveness Despair rules my world,
Tearing Blades of animosity,
bleeds me to death,
I am a doomed ******
Scary unholiness destructs all wisdom,
Melancholy songs strangle all smiles,
A streak of lightening burns the mast,
A single thought unsettles the mind,
I am a doomed ******
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
Oh son of beginners mistake
Son of pure unclean intention
Son of mothers midnight run to bar
Son of broken swan wing
Son of brokenness
Son of lack of sunlight
Son of ***** laundry
Boy of unknowing
Boy of drinking antifreeze
Boy of missing eyed crows
Boy of missing childhood
Boy of sorrow
Boy of stitches
Boy of afraid of manhood
Boy of afraid
Young God of suicide attempts
God of lying to himself that he ever wanted to die
God of lying to himself
God of lying
God of unholiness
God of shotgun misfire
God of unkempt basements
God of homeless dogs
God of death and life all at the same time
You ain't no God. You are a poser with wings and a capital letter to begin your wretched name.
You won't be happy when you die, you are split between so many titles and you do not know which to choose. You are no one. No one. You are absolutely no one.
(Say, do you know the route to the nearest bar? I'm going to drink myself open, flesh off bone, apathetic skeleton, closest thing to happy. I'm going to drink myself away from you, this world, myself.)
Aug 23, 2016
Aug 23, 2016 at 1:41 AM UTC
LEARNING every day
i am a mystery to myself.
endless corridors that seem to never end.
my soul burns bright, thank God,
the wretchedness of my mind does too.
human yes, the love of light and dark energy.
Divine in my unholiness.
KT May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
#
*There is a love, deeply embedded into
fear's reverence.. and what we fear most,
is the threat of annihilation.. yet, is not
that, which is within the deep hooks of
annihilation's looming leer, that which
is also the very seeds sown-- giving way
to the very firstfruits of Life-Anew..
within itself?
So then, is not death's very fear,
in itself, a conceding to the inevitability
of Love's unfolding conquer?
The condemnation-shadow, so unfairly
placed into you, at such a tender
young age, has run amok for so many
unrestrained years within your beautiful
spirit, and body.. is no longer
an end-all..
or catch-all,
But is now, but a spring-board; albeit,
fear-driven.. into that (finally, Beautiful-one)
which brings Life.. directly out of death--
Not with the annihilation of the very Death..
(which gave you Magic) but through its own,
very power to draw us towards Love,
through its own, very fear (respect) of that Love..
does not then, death.. through Love, become upheld?
So how then can the condemnation within you, be bad
except that it be allowed to, for life.. keep you
hidden in shadow? Is not then Love's Light, the
very thing that creates Shadow's, shadow, therefore
exposing Shadow's nature by bringing forth,
its own shadow.. leaving the vulnerable rawness of
condemnation, exposed..
Hence, the horrendous sting of Love's truth.. yet also,
through the Faith-increasing training of experience alone,
is the strengthening into resilience the beautiful, war-torn
Spirit that has become able to begin to finally.. take in, Love.
This is where you are now at, beautiful girl. While under
condemnation's death-hold, you have hated me for so long
that the love.. mixed with fear.. became its own natural
concession into Life, itself-- giving way to the Magical
falling-off of the scales that have covered those beautiful
eyes of yours for so long
Bring your Death, beautiful-one. Through your Faith, it is
established.. and then made, Complete. The giftedness, borne
from the deep, catacombs of Death's Unholy Hold, come forth
in fullness.. into fruition.. as you pass from Death, into Life--
right here.. in the land of the Living.
The Death you have known, does not fall off at the gate
as you pass through it.. but instead, through the newness
of your beautiful eye's, Life View.. Death's previous Unholiness
becomes instantly, Holy.
I am in love with the death that is in you. From its hold,
were born every Magical gift that I love so much, in you..
and while in your presence.. will forever
take my breath away.
Welcome to my life, Beautiful one.*
#
Nov 4, 2021
Nov 4, 2021 at 10:00 PM UTC
She is the typesetter’s “e”
The once-rounded uncial script,
Unbroken like the solemn vow of a monk,
His whisper, a shepherd of words under the cowl,
Murmurations of the Holy Mother to the lambswool shroud of candlelight.
His candle-flock of dreams to some hill of penitent towers, war-cowed
And broken open like faith-unfended helmets, littering the ground,
With their unspeaking tassels in babbling pagan sound of wind,
That hill too, once-rounded bare under the glittering apostles of twilight.
In the abbeywork of air, calligraphy was a cipher of souls,
He unwrested demons from an inkwell of sunsets, smothered them in blotting paper,
Freed the incarnate whole to the book of hours, nib-pointed in quills and illuminated in gold,
Line by line, in Carolingian winding sheets, he returned the misshapen to the fold,
To the carpet page of home and the warm ligatures of their waiting women.
So the shutters of the heavenly house could blow light in slanted rays to a wilderness in storm.
But he never tamed the aero-elongated, descender of Troy in a “t,”
He never knew the unholiness of the underscore or fonts as ******
Or the world unwilling to know itself in serif robes of ancient lore.
His life was a simple rounded-out syllable of one man,
Left in the muddied, unintelligible text of faith and war.
She is the typesetter’s “e” and now belongs to any hand.
Jul 6, 2019
Jul 6, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
He sweats when he poops,
Not just any old ****
A **** of glory,
A **** of a lifetime.
The kind of **** that jacks your heart rate,
The kind of **** that makes you breathe heavy,
A **** so intense that your bowels moan,
And generate a need to remove your shirt.
The cold, yet intense sweats of this ****
Cramps in the lower abdomen, sharp and warm,
The sweet relief of tension, when that one big log comes out,
All hot and steamy.
Followed by a stream of liquidy brown,
He wonders how his body even operates,
The unholiness of what exits through,
That holiest of holes, next to the birth stump and boulders.
Pondering the consumption of two nights before,
He sits bare-assed on this porcelain mouth,
Ingesting every bit of solids, liquids and gasses,
That exit from his **** canal.
Clothes tossed onto the floor,
His ******* harden from the unpleasant draft,
Caused by the perspired glands,
That shiver from trauma and nightly air.
Nov 25, 2023
Nov 25, 2023 at 6:52 PM UTC
we are young gods,
daughters and sons of a generation
who gave up on love a universe ago,
but we do our best to experience it-
we sell it in bottles of pop culture and rabid obsessions;
turn it into a conglomeration that profiteers on excess,
a chaos of depression, anxiety, dark self-depreciating wit-
and become artists who lament on first-world tragedies.
we are young gods,
we scoff at religion and we bathe in unholiness,
sin is the new in, black is your best act, and we love it;
we wear our indifference like an armour,
because we fear what we'll see if we're allowed
to understand our emotions and display our vulnerability.
we are young gods,
happy ever after is a joke and true love even more so,
we inhale criticism and exhale cynicism,
because the titans before us acknowledge that the world is cruel
but we embrace it- we drape ourselves in abject and misery,
stitch and mould uncaring faces onto our flesh that gaze upon
the heartbroken jagged shards of ourselves, bleeding guts and glory
embedded all over the cement patch wood floors, amongst the whisky and wine.
we are the young gods;
a mass of degenerates with our entitlement and liberals,
a numbing, sweet hollow feeling that we substitute
for the lack of love and care that we've grown used to;
a realism that carves like a knife at tender ages and
we wear our sadness like a charm- aesthetics to be envied;
we're self-destructive, faithless, pointless,
burning in our question for the meaning of existence
and the only religion we'll ever bow down to
is ourselves.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 5:13 AM UTC
Meditations Over the George Washington Bridge
For Tyler Clementi
1.
I could hear the faintest of notes crying in the wind,
As if your fingers were still nimbly holding the bow,
Striking chords on your violin,
As my car rolled over the George Washington Bridge.
I think about how beautiful this is,
This feeling of suspension, how life is held
So taut on these wires, how simple it is to find
Weightlessness over all this water. My mind questions,
Did you second guess yourself? Did you know you
Were worthy of being held, cradled in more
Than just cool air and metal grates and wetness.
But I guess some higher being knew you better,
Than anyone did or could. Knew how those fingers could string
Harps and violins and heart strings, and you,
You were more than all of this, this wasteland
Where desires and kisses are taken for mockery,
And your love can be twisted against you
To make you feel light enough to float away into sleep.
2.
You flew that night. I could tell. Spread your arms like wings
Like a firebird descending into waves, looking to extinguish
Itself, and to take the world with it, to burn out the innate
Inhumanity of human beings. What they found floating
On those waves was a mere carcass, the shelling of your being,
You shed the unholiness of your skin off to alight yourself,
And blaze us with our ignorance.
They were too blind to see you flew that night, let yourself
Unravel into the sky, ripping through the darkness like a seraph,
Like some holy being, some light meant for a higher calling,
But I know what you did, I could see the shadow of you in the night
Gracefully floating. You, you are a testament to language spoken
And silenced, to the words stuck on tongues prying themselves
Through gritted teeth, you birthed meaning to the need for some sort of justice.
3.
You served your time well,
You messenger,
You,
You young,
Holy creature of God,
And I wonder as I pass over
Your take off spot,
How long you will string
Your notes over us
And how you would have fit
Into the Philharmonic
And looked walking up
For your degree
And how long your memory
Will haunt me
And how long your memory
Will stay a lesson learned
For us all.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 5:31 PM UTC
By Arcassin , Lexi , Tara and rach
:::AB:::: Conversations with out any words,
:::AW::: Creates a blissful peace between two souls,
::::RH:::: A bond without voices to cause constraints,
:::TO::: Listening closely, Without any of they're ears.,
:::AB:::: Rivers never get too mellow or narrow,
:::AW::: More narrow then the thoughts that cause simple minds,
:::RH:::: Simple minds that quake in the presence of such a holy river,
;:::TO::: colliding together only be ruined by the waves of salt,
::::AB:::: And as I realize , and look inside that my soul burns for a higher judgment,
:::AW:::: A Judgement that quickens ones heartbeat,
::::RH::: Pumping my blood, reiterating judgement awaits once this fragile body tires,
:::TO::: So far apart yet so close, never finding the key too his heartbeat.
:::AB::: While I'm waiting til she finds it, I'm still fading and bleeding,
:::AW::: The key awaits in the depths of the river, cleansed of all unholiness.
Jan 19, 2015
Jan 19, 2015 at 11:58 PM UTC
Step into your holy church and rinse off the nightmares that come in the dark. Partake in the communion of wild saints.
Sip the water trickling down your cheeks,
And maybe you think of biting off a bar of soap in case it will cleanse the unholiness of your insides.
Shed off those dead layers.
Step into the sanctuary of immaculate reconciliation.
Go forth into a new day.
Repeat as needed.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 6:18 PM UTC
No right to exist, I feel happy here
I don't belong, loved by everyone
Tormented forever, free to be myself
Nightmares so cold, the warmth of God
Satanic ritual, keeps me alive
Death confined, dreams of beauty
Psychotic screeches, songs of saints
And demons growling, echo in the cathedral
Of unholiness, praises to the purity
Unclean and unseen, the soft light of Heaven
The wrath of Hell, come down in the form of a Messiah
Lies and deceit, sanctity holds the glory
Vile guise of brutality, vitality cleanses our spirit
Gagging on our sins, in the Kingdom of our faith
A prison of the wraith, the harmony of meadows
Unlock this world of shadows, shines bright in the Sanctuary.
Dec 14, 2009
Dec 14, 2009 at 5:21 PM UTC
Victims of blinded heresy,
See not the sins it entails,
Like the ship upon the salted sea
Gliding upon the vast Ocean's entrails.
They seek to rise so gallantly
Just to fall with the Angel's last flaw,
Seething surreptitiously
Breaking their own laws.
The endless bounds of nothing
Of which we know naught of,
Mistreated are they who come calling,
And directly are taken above.
I, who am Hell, have taken the oath,
To be free of my own sin,
I accept my unholiness,
As I stare in your eyes and grin.
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 10:24 PM UTC
By Arcassin , Lexi , Tara and rach
:::AB:::: Conversations with out any words,
:::AW::: Creates a blissful peace between two souls,
::::RH:::: A bond without voices to cause constraints,
:::TO::: Listening closely, Without any of they're ears.,
:::AB:::: Rivers never get too mellow or narrow,
:::AW::: More narrow then the thoughts that cause simple minds,
:::RH:::: Simple minds that quake in the presence of such a holy river,
;:::TO::: colliding together only be ruined by the waves of salt,
::::AB:::: And as I realize , and look inside that my soul burns for a higher judgment,
:::AW:::: A Judgement that quickens ones heartbeat,
::::RH::: Pumping my blood, reiterating judgement awaits once this fragile body tires,
:::TO::: So far apart yet so close, never finding the key too his heartbeat.
:::AB::: While I'm waiting til she finds it, I'm still fading and bleeding,
:::AW::: The key awaits in the depths of the river, cleansed of all unholiness.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 5:43 AM UTC
Unexpected trials experienced in Life,
reveal the paths of Faith in each day;
purification of your soul by holy fire
insures useless stubble is burned away.
When giving yourself completely to Him,
the unholiness of the World can be shed;
consume God’s Word vigorously and often,
so that Biblical ideals fill your head.
Without His Godly wisdom and knowledge,
spiritual battles are normally difficult;
learn from the former lessons of others
to reduce the trauma of personal tumult.
From being able to walk through the fire,
your faith can exponentially soar higher.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
1 Pet 4:12-13; Prov 4:6-7
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
Colossae
April 28, 2016
Oh Colossae, where have you gone to hide yourself from the Lord?
Colossae, why have you wandered away from the fold of God?
Have you forgotten the words of St. Paul, the man who brought you the news
Colossae, why have you departed from the ways of the Lord?
Oh Colossae, where hast thou gone?
Colossae, have you forgotten the Word which became flesh?
Have you Colossae, a city of unholiness, forgotten of the promise of newness
Oh Colossae, how quickly you have fallen into uncleanliness
From dust you came and to dust you shall return
But must you, oh Colossae, so quickly descend to the dirt of the earth?
Oh Colossae, you cut off limbs afraid of the flesh
As if less flesh could make you more holy
You believe that this gnostic theology saves you from your sins
But only God incarnate in flesh can save
Oh Colossae, forget not the Savior who made you new
Colossae, forget not the Spirit of God, the very giver of life
He descends upon you and makes you holy,
He proceeds from the Father and the Son, and is worshiped and glorified
He is not one to worship alone, or to give identity alone
For that you have been united with Christ, who proceeds from the Father
Colossae, remember not this heresy of mysticism
There is this flood of culture and thought
Oh Colossae, be not drowned by this flood
And forget not the great unity the Body is to be
Forget this heresy to which you have come to love
Oh Colossae, you worship angels and men, yet too God
But you know, oh Colossae that the Lord on High is worth the worship
For these messengers from heaven may bring the Word of the Lord
But certainly, oh Colossae, they are not the Word which became flesh
Oh Colossae, forget these ancient heresies, and raise up the Lord Jesus
Oh Colossae, you partook in the Holy Communion of His Body and Blood
And baptized in the death and resurrection
Anointed with oil like the kings of old
Engrafted into the marriage of the Lord Jesus and His bride
Oh Colossae, you are one Body, abandon it not
Oh Colossae, return to the Lord!
Come back to the land of your spiritual fathers
Where they worshipped the Lord in all goodness
Come back to this land of orthodoxy
Oh Colossae, repent of this heresy against the Lord!
Oh Colossae, how we have followed path you have trod
To forget the redemption by which we are saved
To remember not the works of the Lord, perpetrated that we might freely live
That we have forgotten to live holy lives
Oh Colossae, how we have fallen in line with you and the Church of yesterday
Too have we, this Church of the modern age, departed like you, Colossae
We have succumbed to these heresies of forgetting our Lord Jesus
Oh Colossae, we have fallen, like you, and dirtied ourselves from holiness
We have descended to the depths of the sea like the rest of the world
Too we are drowning in our sorrows and our sins and unholiness
Oh come Lord Jesus
And redeem us, like Colossae, back into Your holiness
Come Lord Jesus
And renew our troubled lives, bring us back into Your holiness
Oh come Lord Jesus
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC
in ref. to the supposed "unholy" trinity -
i can only clearly identify one member,
antonym of the holy spirit (alias of
a community, rather than a person,
as stated by Žižek - in his words, should
it be different, it would be a profanity) -
if that is the case, then the variation
of holy spirit is ascribed the title zeitgeist -
or: the spirit of the times - the 20th century's
example is filled with zeitgeists -
communist, nazis, hippies, punks, goths,
beats, squares, or 21st century's militant atheists
and Jihadists, Blairites...
as is evident, the zeitgeist is short lived -
it's naive in being easily influenced - but because
of its gullibility it's also brutal in not being
influenced for worth of establishing a religion -
it's "unholiness" is precisely the reason why
it's poly-adaptable - multi-faceted - unruly -
it changes very quickly and is never rock-like -
but because of its gullibility it's also brutal in
not being influenced to the point of permanence -
the fluctuations are numerous, and democratically so,
many people can attach themselves to the "unholy
spirit" at any time they want, without knowing
they're actually part of a congregation - and as soon
as a congregation is established, the zeitgeist
implodes and disappears - the congregation breaks up -
soon overpowered by the forces of imitation -
ah - now the second person of the "unholy" trinity -
the Imitator - the flawed first entry post-zeitgeist -
never reaching the zeitgeist's potential, this tsunami
wave lasts longer than the actual zeitgeist - it's
a variation of nostalgia - not a nostalgia of thinking back
but a nostalgia of trying to revive - resuscitate -
the assortment of vanity projects; now i'm either too
hangover or just know what i have to do today
before the Royal Opera House and Verdi's Nabucco -
a peasant is heading into town, peasant better iron
his shirt and trousers and look respectably urban.
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 8:52 AM UTC
I orchestrate your violent butterflies
Fluttering and morphing into bees with big eyes
"Honey shed your chitin and be mine"
Your guardian angel and savior so divine
The strings of your heart as my violin
My grand concerto hypnotized you to sin
Made me your deity, my boat your place of worship
I welcomed your unholiness aboard my precious ship
Sailed through the clouds and into the stars
Set off on a light-speed expedition to Mars
When we returned to wander the Earth's seas
I found myself a slave to all your pleas
Mistress of this vessel yet so caged and lonely
When did I feed you so much power over me?
She was mine but I didn’t recognize
Tainted and defiled because of my lies
Her body and sails were painted red and blue
To much better suit and satisfy you
Irreverence to your deity, desecration to my shrine
I could only watch while you took all that was mine
A glimpse of land and gardens so close
Sparked a flame of hope in my life of shadows
I sprouted wings and the sun began beaming
Lighting up the rocks where waves were crashing
I raised her sails with one final goal
To free myself and take back my control
With cold confidence, I steadied my helm, directed my bow
Crashed her down like Dawson to Davy in the depths below.
Aug 26, 2020
Aug 26, 2020 at 11:41 PM UTC
pangs of loneliness
unholiness of worship
fallen gods becoming idols
idolaters seeking redemption
crass waste of endeavor
and yet it seems like yesterday
the silence is deafening
where once stood the revered
now stands a debauched figurine
some folks visit to see the lost glory
but all that is lost cannot be stated
it is gone like a puff of smoke
it is lost in the sands of time
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 5:34 AM UTC
Lips parted, wet to smother
me, and
The galvanized gibbet of your stare . making myself small . knees to the floor
Swallowing my own unquiet heart the battery acid bite of ****** foreboding
I require your alms approximately once every 18.75 hours
Pitiful, fragile: a dove with two broken wings
For this, I yearn for the heavy hand of your regard
Render my flesh to the pulp of my ancient beginnings . born again
If you are willing, I am able . I pray
I will look to you . your appalling prophet . made whole in my unholiness
And I
Fling myself to flagellate my prostrate body upon the temple stairs
Each bruise after counted
My proof, bludgeoned on a tablet of tissue.
I will guild the seed of your mercy . bind it in stained glass . idol for my reliquary .
I have played Mary: both of her faces
By the Book
but only to drive away
So many to alien lands, discovered as a *****
Unable to accept my enormous blood debt—
Condemn me, the abomination: I beg
It is my calling
Shove that cross into my arms, nails and all
I will drag my carcass forward through the spitting masses
My heart, full of rapture.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 7:36 PM UTC
Moving away from unholiness is attainable,
by modifying and monitoring your godless behavior.
Know that you’re called into fellowship with Him;
begin mirroring the traits of our blessed Savior.
For you can do all things through Christ,
who joyfully and faithfully strengthens His Children;
you have been given the necessary Biblical tools
for overcoming Life’s constant pressures of sin.
Turn away from impurity of thoughts and actions;
instead focus on Christ’s perfect righteousness;
find your identity now - in Him and His Kingdom;
remember that you’re always… called to holiness!
.
.
.
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
1 Thes 4:7; Heb 3:1; 2 Tim 1:9; Phil 4:13;
1 Pet 1:14-16
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2013, All rights reserved.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
with your sin stained touch,
unholy scriptures,
and whispered prayers
falling from your wicked tongue,
sometimes i wonder if we’re
truly of the ******
disgraced in the eyes of the lord,
or if the lord revels in our unholiness
Oct 7, 2020
Oct 7, 2020 at 1:03 PM UTC
I can’t do it
Not like you want me to
I’m not a God
I’m mortal just like you
I loved you once
I needed you like air
But then you changed
You became a lion in its lair
You controlled my thoughts
You controlled my fate
My heart turned on you
My love turned to hate
Then one day I left
I may have saved your life
Evil had its suggestions
About a gun and a knife
Maybe you knew this
As you heard it in my voice
My mind turned to madness
I had no other choice
But now calm breezes blow
Just like when we met
You said God brought us together
You said let us not forget
But it was time
That softened my emotions
I traveled alone
But I am unable to walk on oceans
I thought of holiness
And the words of Jesus
I wondered about humans
And if he did deceive us
What are we capable of
After a journey into darkness?
How can I love someone
Who is no longer my princess?
Am I to forgive
And forget
When tomorrow awaits
With further regret?
How can I forgive
What I cannot trust?
How can I love
What a commandment says I must?
I read the words
Of the stern rubric
But I am a failure
I cannot play the music
In the unholiness of my offer
I can only give you this
I will never hurt you
But I cannot offer a kiss
You must let me go
And realize what I say
You may believe in God
But my sin does not pray
The decision has been made
You are forgiven
But I will walk into the fire
Because today only Jesus has risen
Copyright 2012. All Rights Reserved. Mark Lecuona
Jan 28, 2012
Jan 28, 2012 at 8:20 PM UTC
I saw the devil today
With horns that curved away from his head
I saw him on that hill, gnashing his teeth against the earth to pull mother nature's children from her grasp
He attacked his brother! Using his own crown to charge against the innocent
I saw the devil today, his irises slanted in the wrong direction,
His beard knotted in lies,
Had hooves that trampled and left unwanted marks,
And how he stares at the lamb with malice in those putrid eyes!
A creature of hell doesn't belong here!
Oh God! Save the poor lamb from his mischief
He'll be sure to rope her towards the wolves
And leak her red-hot death over the chips of dirt, infecting her skin with unholiness
But she remains pure, with pure white fleece that can never be dirtied
The lamb! Who cries for her mother
The lamb! Who remains helpless in all her strength
The devil. Who with his darkened fingers I refuse to allow into my sanctuary
You cannot heed the lamb to sin, sly creature!
My woolen eve must be sheltered from the song of the snake
O God!
Today, I'll rid this land of evil
And soon, the devil is to be dead
Aug 26, 2024
Aug 26, 2024 at 5:40 PM UTC
hot-blooded heart
Of poetic shadows
And gentle embers,
glowing a ghost
of alluring unholiness
from the sanctity of sin.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 8:23 PM UTC
I was there when you fell from heaven
the fire in the sky burns,
blazoned by the jade
tint of satan's Greek fire
the air was poisoned with the unholiness of you
it's easy to blame coincidence
if I am broken, perhaps I cannot fix you
my eyes are replaced with slabs of molten rock and the soulfire gaze
sears your shadow from your towering image
you are yourself and reflection
an end and a beginning
the steps toward dawn
and it's sunbleached essence
baptizes and breathes
death into life
but dusk comes not long after
closer than sin
thicker than bad blood
there's no light at the end of the tunnel
just the passing glimmer of your
one last wish
there's no light at the end of the tunnel
i won't dance with the devil
there will be no
one last kiss
Feb 10, 2016
Feb 10, 2016 at 10:23 PM UTC