Hello Poetry
Submit your work and get some sparkles! Create free account
"unsacred" poems
The human soul, as vile as bile, Savage Cruel disturbed infected and distort, The human soul, obsessed with foul style, Sinful confused mishandled and extort Devoid of ethical human feelings, Inflicted with raw sadistic hatred, Grotesque depraved dismembered killings, Ungodly occultism, unsacred Sickness requires resolute treatment, Stitches to repair ripped incisions, Reducing the risk of dismemberment, Catastrophe fractured by excision Ceased decaying crippled in dreadful despair Emerging from darkness, disturbed and aware. William James
0
Oct 20, 2015
Oct 20, 2015 at 7:30 PM UTC
The Evilness of the human soul
That idolized word of yours - "virginity" - and my nature fail at getting along Virginity steals my freedom Why does my desire for ****** activity have to make me impure? Why must I disengage from an uncontrollable arousal to be considered worthy? You make the most sacred activity seem so unsacred As if with every touch I lost my value Why do you make my nature seem so unholy? As if with every touch I stained my soul What am I losing ? If only gaining physical,emotional, and spiritual insight
0
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 2:28 AM UTC
Virginity
I walk to the newsstand over blue gray cobblestone jumping up my soles, the windows of every mother in Viterbo looking at my swaying arms, at the very reason I love the squint of eyes in morning sun. Because I am free from anticipating a slow sinking earth, hung twined, hung taut, hung thin, hung dried, peeling off the body like scree, relenting. Because I am ten. From five lire scrunched in a fist, from a father’s request for Il Messaggero, steps can brim with direction, with place, with an appetence for growing a grown man would lunge at. Could make a mute anchorite sing again to an unsacred sky: “a son is a son as a song is a song, this is that I am is why I belong.” I walk to the newsstand under glaring windows, under the look of all Viterbo’s mothers, under the sluice of morning sun that piques the eyes as sliced brine, and the stand is shuttered. Dirt metal slats I touch once to make sure, and then I walk straight back, back with the sun now behind, illuminating stone, in front of me.
0
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 6:29 PM UTC
Through Morning Viterbo
In the burning ghats where the earthly wanderer leaves his leftovers to be singed and scarred to ashes taking with him his soul wrapped in a white sheet God knows where, I am with you on that final journey In the temples where the joss sticks burned and childless couples shaved their heads bared their naked bodies in sacrifice for a gift of life I am with you. In the quiet clinical streets where test-tubes babies are mixed and matched like cocktails seeking world headlines, guessing at the outcome I am with you. In the back alleys of the brain where dungeons of demons reside purged from loneliness and depression. Crying in their incompleteness I am with you. In the starry night where lovers meet and kiss and cuddle and forget that tomorrow is another day to rethink their togetherness in love. Starry eyed I am with you In the unsacred gaps in the scriptures where fairy tales and impossible connections are made, broken and burnt, often too old to believe anymore. I am with you On the journeys that you take sheltered by the thousand pilgrims also seeking the blazing light of holiness. Unknowing. I am with you I am with you as you walk the grass verges of the sacrosanct temples and mosques, the highways of information and the byways of underprivileged children looking out for another day of isolation in the busiest streets of desperation.I am with you. Even as you gird your ***** and prepare for the battle that will help you survive in this raging metropolis of unknown faces, names and destinations coming from  no particular place I am with you. As human as I am and completely in synch with your ideas of humanness and love and laughter husbands wives and children and futures I think with you.I am with you. Human as...... Nothing can separate me from your own journey into that limit beyond the limitless where chaos, culture or organisations are born from the same mother of reason I am with you in that questioning. Why? Author Notes A reflective poem that asks ourselves on why we are human and yet set out on journeys that takes us different directions. We are here for a reason and what is that reason? © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
0
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 12:55 AM UTC
I am with you as you wander around........
In the burning ghats where the earthly wanderer leaves his leftovers to be singed and scarred to ashes taking with him his soul wrapped in a white sheet God knows where, I am with you on that final journey In the temples where the joss sticks burned and childless couples shaved their heads bared their naked bodies in sacrifice for a gift of life I am with you. In the quiet clinical streets where test-tubes babies are mixed and matched like cocktails seeking world headlines, guessing at the outcome I am with you. In the back alleys of the brain where dungeons of demons reside purged from loneliness and depression. Crying in their incompleteness I am with you. In the starry night where lovers meet and kiss and cuddle and forget that tomorrow is another day to rethink their togetherness in love. Starry eyed I am with you In the unsacred gaps in the scriptures where fairy tales and impossible connections are made, broken and burnt, often too old to believe anymore. I am with you On the journeys that you take sheltered by the thousand pilgrims also seeking the blazing light of holiness. Unknowing. I am with you I am with you as you walk the grass verges of the sacrosanct temples and mosques, the highways of information and the byways of underprivileged children looking out for another day of isolation in the busiest streets of desperation.I am with you. Even as you gird your ***** and prepare for the battle that will help you survive in this raging metropolis of unknown faces, names and destinations coming from  no particular place I am with you. As human as I am and completely in synch with your ideas of humanness and love and laughter husbands wives and children and futures I think with you.I am with you. Human as...... Nothing can separate me from your own journey into that limit beyond the limitless where chaos, culture or organisations are born from the same mother of reason I am with you in that questioning. Why? Author Notes A reflective poem that asks ourselves on why we are human and yet set out on journeys that takes us different directions. We are here for a reason and what is that reason? © Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Continue reading...
53
When the volcano erupts they blame the gods, it's a common theme. Blood thirst is contagious as one and all turn to homicidal maniacs. Witches, thieves, philosophers, princesses. Burn, stab, bludgeon, maim. See here! The winds of change bear arms. Fear and loathing have no friends. A prima facie they call an act of war. But cold-blooded ****** is the criminal de facto. Heathens in chaos can offer no justification for unsacred slaughter. It's methodical and evil as the Tempter. A flag to hatred when they'd given allegiance upon the heads of their children. And so, the sins pass from father to son, mother to daughter. The acquired taste for blood will one day claim them too. These very same kids will smoke mom and dad with the same zeal and spite they butchered the collective royalty. Listen! Barbarism begins at home.
0
Mar 3, 2020
Mar 3, 2020 at 9:05 AM UTC
****** by Numbers
Punished by the sun in a desert of our love. Slipshod the sailing stones, how dispassion speckles the playa floor, salt pans dissolve motivating force. I'm a man returning to his ground. You're a woman seeking refuge in the cracked crevices of my rib cage. So far below sea level, where does love go from here to survive? Perhaps, Chloride City and the grave of a James McKay? Maybe at Bottle House in Rhyolite, the "Queen City"? Either way, this sensation has become an unsacred mirage: the watering hole, a leadfield, with which we can only look back from. Praying the sulfur in the sky passes on from this place, before we turn into something sodium, something akin to Lot's careless wife.
0
Jul 8, 2020
Jul 8, 2020 at 9:20 PM UTC
Badlands
I fell in love With you You were made so It was **** easy I am A mere mortal Your eyes Cast a spell With their sparkle Hard to avert Your voice Hypnotized My ears To listen To the smooth Ripples On my soul Your lovely hands With their exquisite Fingers Were made for Holding Gently Smoothing My rough ones Your hair Formed a halo Dark and lustrous Around a full moon Sacred idol That I worshipped Your soft lips Turned intentions Unsacred Desire turned To longing At their redness Your tongue mocked My self control With its tip running Briefly across Like a little flame That set a fire raging In my breast For many years I carried Your picture In my heart Till a raging storm Tore my body Asunder Casting me Devastated And forlorn On an Island Wasted and barren Till your ship Arrived To my rescue I fell in love All over again You were made so It was **** easy I am A mere mortal Your eyes So gentle Cast their kindness Hard to resist Your voice Caressed My heart To beat To the soft Vibes From your soul Your lovely hands With their knowing Fingers Were made for Clasping Gently erasing My ravaged ones Your hair Formed a shelter Glowing and silky Around my own Broken down face That I worshipped Your healing lips Turned intentions Sacred Desire turned To gratitude At their fullness Your tongue talked My self control Into returning Firmly back Like a little spark That lit a warm flame In my being
0
Dec 26, 2011
Dec 26, 2011 at 2:24 AM UTC
Falling in love
Scream! Scream! Scream! The cardinal rule of silence. Scream! The next cardinal rule of silence. On words aching for a voice, a generous gaze be fixed. Lend a ray of light and shine on shadowed corners where thoughts have cowered. Forsake me not in unsacred matrimony of stagnation and decay, lest, I be not I. For voice not be voice which breaks when it disguise unmasks. Such is life. Into the fabled lands of golden chance, my car rode my soul, glittered rot and creaking joints, not I, but my ferry for this diaspora unbidden, for one, but one quest—snatch tomorrow from its tree and fill the pockets of whose vines to the roots with whom I share. For it gives them so much pleasure, to measure worth with what gift is on a hand, failing to see its callused back. Faces neither painted with hardened sweat and spit, nor eyes crafted with sight. Their comfort a measuring stick of whatever weaves the blood. It thickens with the sun and diluted in the cold, worse still, vapid in trying times. Pictures are nothing like my reality, for no hope feel I, no shores see I in this sea indifferent to drifters, no reasons have I to follow behind the whims of my feet. In solitude, in its warmth, I bathe, than nestle in the wintry arms of feigned togetherness. Such a dear friend loneliness is, when it holds out its hand and speak with profane eloquence. Until you set your fear free, then walk away you cannot. Until you walk away, then find who you are you cannot. Until you find who you are, then grasp freedom you cannot. So note to self—be not afraid. So with all mustered fire; let go. Let go. Let go of fear.  Be done with people who see you as Wells Fargo. Let go. Let go. Let go of thankless gratitude. My compassion will not bend their will anymore than they can bend their own, for theirs is absolute. Today, I’m an outcast cast away to distant shores by my need and my compassion for my blood so now I must reflect on how much of myself remains. I’ve grown arcane. How much of myself I have given to the twilight and what of me remains. Yet, I’m torn between love that I’m nothing without and love no more and live.
0
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 11:43 PM UTC
Where it Ends
Scream! Scream! Scream! The cardinal rule of silence. Scream! The next cardinal rule of silence. On words aching for a voice, a generous gaze be fixed. Lend a ray of light and shine on shadowed corners where thoughts have cowered. Forsake me not in unsacred matrimony of stagnation and decay, lest, I be not I. For voice not be voice which breaks when it disguise unmasks. Such is life. Into the fabled lands of golden chance, my car rode my soul, glittered rot and creaking joints, not I, but my ferry for this diaspora unbidden, for one, but one quest—snatch tomorrow from its tree and fill the pockets of whose vines to the roots with whom I share. For it gives them so much pleasure, to measure worth with what gift is on a hand, failing to see its callused back. Faces neither painted with hardened sweat and spit, nor eyes crafted with sight. Their comfort a measuring stick of whatever weaves the blood. It thickens with the sun and diluted in the cold, worse still, vapid in trying times. Pictures are nothing like my reality, for no hope feel I, no shores see I in this sea indifferent to drifters, no reasons have I to follow behind the whims of my feet. In solitude, in its warmth, I bathe, than nestle in the wintry arms of feigned togetherness. Such a dear friend loneliness is, when it holds out its hand and speak with profane eloquence. Until you set your fear free, then walk away you cannot. Until you walk away, then find who you are you cannot. Until you find who you are, then grasp freedom you cannot. So note to self—be not afraid. So with all mustered fire; let go. Let go. Let go of fear.  Be done with people who see you as Wells Fargo. Let go. Let go. Let go of thankless gratitude. My compassion will not bend their will anymore than they can bend their own, for theirs is absolute. Today, I’m an outcast cast away to distant shores by my need and my compassion for my blood so now I must reflect on how much of myself remains. I’ve grown arcane. How much of myself I have given to the twilight and what of me remains. Yet, I’m torn between love that I’m nothing without and love no more and live.
Continue reading...
10
First pleas Unsaid Red eyes Dry riverbeds Here lies Happiness Buried six feet deep in regrets Seconds pass Out of time Speak now I’ve tried Spelled out Words repeat Words first said as you fade to sleep Dreamer I call to you Thrice more Beyond veiled view Same hour Twelfth night When fate took you from my life Questions Madness drives To forefronts Darkness arrives Forever more Your deathly dance Unchained from mortal coil and my hands Dark night Fifth on same day Answer me In my dismay Where she Still alive Would she stand to be my wife? Sycophant To demons now Here I plead Hear my vow Disaster struck Her voice I know This pain in me only grows Heaven now At my back Seventh cry Into the black Driving words In my mind Wond’ring how she left me behind 8:00 On the hour When hands turned cold When life turned sour Thoughts careen Into the fade Twelfth night bereft of the day Knees, you bleed Heart is torn My love, a corpse With child, unborn Words I read Pure sacrilege In hopes to breed words from the dead Both hands dig in Fingers trembling still Hear my plea Unsacred will If she would speak These words to me Maybe I could finally sleep All attempts failed No price to much Gouge out these eyes Hands go untouched One this wicked month Short of a dozen years I drive myself to bring you here Oh Twelfth Night What terror you bring As words arise From Hell’s opening The inferno rains Words burned in my head “With this wedding ring, I thee wed”
0
Jan 21, 2020
Jan 21, 2020 at 9:27 AM UTC
Twelfth Night
The Evilness of the human soul The human soul, as vile as bile, Savage Cruel disturbed infected and distort, The human soul, obsessed with foul style, Sinful confused mishandled and extort Devoid of ethical human feelings, Inflicted with raw sadistic hatred, Grotesque depraved dismembered killings, Ungodly occultism, unsacred Sickness requires resolute treatment, Stitches to repair ripped incisions, Reducing the risk of dismemberment, Catastrophe fractured by excision Ceased decaying crippled in dreadful despair Emerging from darkness, disturbed and aware. William James Stevenson
0
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 12:17 AM UTC
The Evilness of the human soul
Faith found me in the crowd, With wondering eyes and messy hair, Leant against the bathroom wall. So I found Faith in a cafe chair, With hot coffee and a smile, More sober than before. I find Faith in things I thought I buried; In smaller sensations and softer senses. I find Faith in holding hands; And crying over movies; In hugs and daily check ins; In stupid jokes and surprises. In small reminders of how easy loving is supposed to feel. I thank Faith for the Faith she has restored in me. So for our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be her name, When her kingdom comes, Leave me undone, As on earth she is my heaven. And I would make this my daily prayer, If my disposition allowed as much, You see Faith had a Faith in me, Just as the Faithful have Faith in false prophets. I've never been so good at religion, My mind questions too much- Has too little Faith in Faith and the Faithful. So as I leave this altar running, Hail me the false prophet, And pin my memory to a crucifix. This crown of thorns hangs heavy in blood; These feet find their way to the confessional once more. I never meant to be a sinner. Father forgive me, For the damage I've done.
0
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 9:37 AM UTC
Unsacred Scripture
It's not his fault and neither is mine If you can not let the fear get inside your bruised thoughts to teach you that love does not always treat you like that I gave you peace I gave you war I never asked for nothing but not be harmed by your promisses that cut just like a blade my troubled mind filled with mistaken mistakes We exorcized our demons on an unsacred bed It was all about time what a beautiful night we had you were not supposed to take home pieces of me that put together show that I'm a confused symphony And now that you're gone I'm still thinking about did I do something wrong? and what those midnight talks were about
0
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 9:15 PM UTC
Thief
My heart is not broken It is only in pieces that have learned to live apart It was a choice of survival Evolving Floating Connected by the same body of water Though unsacred, shared experience records the nobility of freeing oneself to become every moment of your life North is happy South is sad East is angry West is glad A mission trip to the four corners of future dreams Armed with diverse darkened hopes sailing beyond each horizon but touched by the same sea My heart is not broken But it will converge one day Washed ashore upon understanding lands made whole by the hopes of others who decided their journeys no longer could hide them from dreams that are ready to awaken
0
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
Pieces