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"ushering" poems
*i always imagine you so very graceful through the masochists ordeal a god form of supplication seeing your face in love fascinated by shimmering kisses that hurt, yet please wet lips and sharp teeth   glamors that excite cold blade licks dragged across tender bellies naval buttocks and flexed toes stinging then radiating outwards wounds become lilies mouth ******* tremulous weeping kisses ecstatic cruelties blood glitter sacrifice your supplication love pangs i'm shaking apart over you your countenance a cascading dream moved to tears of adoration your  limitless yielding like surrenders caress an infinite communion with fragile limbs silky wrapped spools innerness of desire veiled in a shroud a faltering star that glistens crimson nymph of purgation ash volcanic cells en-flamed with tongues that bite subsumed in scented vapors a confection of **** and *** waves embrace ineffable shores passed the discontinuity of life   I have the most immense feeling of love for you am i not the saint death   quietly following you through life's labyrinth innocuous   waiting humbly in the wings i am all ache for you a vice of kisses a brief encounter that eats your sight and senses ushering you to immortal freedom a swooning garland of fire that enlivens the body electric a mist of molecules your tears intoxicate i am new life with in you budding embryo that consumes its mother for nourishment and saturates like dew drops   as it echoes through oblivion*
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Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
Echoes of Oblivion
.      Seems much smaller than I had imagined.      It only stretches as far as my eyes could      see.      It reeks of the past, with no hints of the      future.      The present is here, the present is me. My world tonight...      Sees me nestled,      watching silent but with mind dishevelled...      Unnoticed on this kerb...      Unnamed and unlabelled. My world tonight...      Is filled with familiar strangers,      ushering their lives along.      I know their faces but not their names.      I'd call this home but I don't belong. My world tonight...      Is spinning regardless...      It stays on track.      Never waits for me.      Never looks back. My world tonight...      Has no intention to soothe my thoughts.      It is baring its bite...      It's leaving me far behind...      But I'll catch up at the break of light.                                         As I always do...
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Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
My World, Tonight...
“Each broken promise is a blackout star” said he “The light goes on” said she “Too many, too close, to who?” Thought he Tuesday came unannounced and declared its importance ushering hours, sweeping boredom Tuesday left unnoticed “Letter by letter, what good your words have done?” said she “I lie to protect, to protect from sheer ignorance” said he “Acceptance, For the highest bidder!” said she O Foster child of infinite dreams The mind shivers This is water, and that’s a stream Certainty, but up to a degree “Dictate the mind, and the heart will flee” said he “I reside in paintings and leave hints in old ink” said she “Seek shelter at the nearest heart” thought he the rhymes dwell, between two red cheeks And the name is spelled so the face can melt
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Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 3:37 PM UTC
Tuesday
Hey, remember that time at the dock? The jellyfish floating serenely beneath our feet, Their pinkish hue, transparent in the black water. My feet dangled off the edge, yours dangled further, But the gentle waves caressed the jellies below us still. They drifted by, not knowing nor caring of us, Yet we watched their careless path. The cool night's wind ushering them along their way. Hundreds of blush-colored jellyfish just out of reach, Sliding silently out to sea.
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Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 10:56 PM UTC
Jellyfish
*Morning comes calling Little birds singing their tunes Ushering a new beginning Being gifted with a new sun Invoking our spirits to rise Nature says, “Come hither” Realizing, we are her child A new dawn in our life Morning comes calling*
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Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 9:31 AM UTC
Morning
I have come humble to seek your knowledge With exhausted feet and weighing burden, I bear my heart I have travelled far to arrive at the world's edge Ready to receive what wisdom you will impart I'll set myself cross-legged on the opposite of you I see you peering, examining my physical entirety With one good eye, you gaze right through Makes me uncomfortable, if I may... But I'll hold steady I notice you muttering but no words could be heard Your hands hovering over a glassy globe with an ominous glow You turn to the left, as if conversing with an invisible third Whispering secrets that I will never learn to know Shifting your gaze now into the crystal orb What do you see, Wise One, in that ball of yours You shudder upon it's touch as though it's power you absorb Tell me, Soothsayer... What lies for me in this course? You swiftly pull your hands behind your back I flinch with a start at your sudden display You bring back your hands revealing cards out of a stack You tremble in spasms, dropping the rest leaving one for play The card you place face down, right in front of me You motion for me to pick it up and flip it round I see the card bore inscriptions and ancient runes, quizzically You ****** the card and begin chanting in odd sounds Reciting your incantations, in a tongue I do not understand They sound like curses rather than the answers I seek It all ends almost as soon as it started... I can't comprehend You then place your warm palms gently touching my cheeks Your features softened as you stared into my sullen eyes A connection like eternity trapped within seconds never going astray Then you turn away to fetch a bundle roped in knots and ties You hand it to me hastily before ushering me on my way I am now perplexed much... What does it show? What did you see, what does my future hold? Please enlighten me what you've come to know From all of that, what could you have foretold? Bundle in hand I turn to leave your rundown shanty As I leave, you speak in your voice, different from before Soft yet raspy you say, *"Do not open till the end of journey" "Open only when in house, behind closed door"* Moon is up illuminating, as I make my way up north Armed in hand a strange, scented, tied up bundle Leaving with the same questions with no answers, I amble forth Wondering if in the bundle I may find the missing pieces of the puzzle...
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Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 4:45 AM UTC
Dear Mystic (I)
I have come humble to seek your knowledge With exhausted feet and weighing burden, I bear my heart I have travelled far to arrive at the world's edge Ready to receive what wisdom you will impart I'll set myself cross-legged on the opposite of you I see you peering, examining my physical entirety With one good eye, you gaze right through Makes me uncomfortable, if I may... But I'll hold steady I notice you muttering but no words could be heard Your hands hovering over a glassy globe with an ominous glow You turn to the left, as if conversing with an invisible third Whispering secrets that I will never learn to know Shifting your gaze now into the crystal orb What do you see, Wise One, in that ball of yours You shudder upon it's touch as though it's power you absorb Tell me, Soothsayer... What lies for me in this course? You swiftly pull your hands behind your back I flinch with a start at your sudden display You bring back your hands revealing cards out of a stack You tremble in spasms, dropping the rest leaving one for play The card you place face down, right in front of me You motion for me to pick it up and flip it round I see the card bore inscriptions and ancient runes, quizzically You ****** the card and begin chanting in odd sounds Reciting your incantations, in a tongue I do not understand They sound like curses rather than the answers I seek It all ends almost as soon as it started... I can't comprehend You then place your warm palms gently touching my cheeks Your features softened as you stared into my sullen eyes A connection like eternity trapped within seconds never going astray Then you turn away to fetch a bundle roped in knots and ties You hand it to me hastily before ushering me on my way I am now perplexed much... What does it show? What did you see, what does my future hold? Please enlighten me what you've come to know From all of that, what could you have foretold? Bundle in hand I turn to leave your rundown shanty As I leave, you speak in your voice, different from before Soft yet raspy you say, *"Do not open till the end of journey" "Open only when in house, behind closed door"* Moon is up illuminating, as I make my way up north Armed in hand a strange, scented, tied up bundle Leaving with the same questions with no answers, I amble forth Wondering if in the bundle I may find the missing pieces of the puzzle...
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44
Just as summer releases its warm embrace Ushering in beautiful colors and flavors, Love blossoms in my heart once again, reborn. Your memory, my son, consumes and embraces me in its own warmth. -by Mercurychyld Copyrights 26 May 15 Tuesday ~ In memory of my Giovani, my beautiful boy with wings ~ ❤️ ~
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May 27, 2015
May 27, 2015 at 7:55 AM UTC
~ JULY ~ (acrostic poem)
I strive to be… a transcendent being… armed with fearless questioning powered by Love and light. A transcendent being ...is not lead by ploys to keep the world separated. ..does not judge others In order to feel better about themselves. A transcendent being is comfortable in their own skin... therefore … ego and envy are taken out of the mix... A transcendent being sees through fearless eyes the beauty of the rest of the world, A transcendent being carries with them their own personal joy… excited by possibilities and purpose their world becomes full of adventure. Problems do not disappear… They simply become a challenge Fueled by what could be inspired by justice distributed with integrity. Without fears… transcendent beings see what is truly needed… … a system designed with the realities of the present and accommodations that are handed out justly… distributed with intregrity. Ushering out "should's" And “should not’s” Replaced with more… fearless compassion... and why not's. Imagine then... what you would change... and join me in striving To be a Transcedent Being.
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Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
To Be A Transcendent Being...
The barbaric queen, her abilities stiffened His presence strickened by her directed speech Could it be her brick fence weakend Love had made it's way into the leaks Thoughts become lies, diminishing her kingdom ****** passion, a caused lusting Touching her breast Carressing her hips Legs shake, she is a disgrace The guards ushering him from her towering mattress Empathy made her a mockery A hatchet to the soul, he is nonexistent and undesirable Her long webbed veil, disguises her weeping Her eyes blackened, she is a demon bleeding Halo misplaced, in dismay She is a woman rigid and prevailing
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May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
Fixing her posture
*two bottles of 70cl whiskey later and a few beers, popping sleeping pills for an actual effect worked with (it's ten past five p.m., i'm already mentioning ~ eleven minutes to midnight, so wait)... you get the shovel and broom ushering the ***** drinkers from a town centre in Leicester or Norwich; or you implant a hope to live in Scandinavia; you're basically laughing with a russian at that point: 'eh eh, where's lithuania?' 'ah **** it's next to yuri reciting poetry on the laika satellite.' 'thought so.' german started from monkeys, sent one into space... slavs started with dogs... like all good people, i would too have kept the cats grounded in atmosphere; well, the oedipal riddle began with a sphinx, so i'm more than ready for the cerberus.* i'm not going to repent for my alcoholic metabolism, i'll wait till you turn into ostriches ostricizing vegans for anaemia and bulimia and the london fashion show; bullseye market that cares for diaphragms and diabetes; sure the arabs are alcohol free, but diabetic looking into the sand dunes like looking at dunes of sugar.
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Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 12:02 PM UTC
zeus' cerberus, the sphinx
*The cloud and Sun are playing hide-n-seek Sun peeking from the veils of clouds With it linings shimmering like gold Clouds silhouette coming to light Responding to the warmth of the Sun To give way to the morning sunshine Resplendent Earth basks in the ambiance Ushering another day* © Amitav (Radiance)
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May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 11:05 AM UTC
Daybreak
Trees bud at the joints and flower. tulips try and keep up with the volume. crocus flowers have done their jobs ushering in change. leaves find their way pointing up to the heavens. the dandelions maybe turned into wine now. spring is upon us. time for rejoicing and divine intervention. Miracles, rebirth, and spiritual growth. brave souls Dawn a crown of knots. hero image is drawn out of instances. every man battles priggishness. this is not a time for mistakes.
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Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:03 AM UTC
Druid spring
Happiness & Misery I tend to compliment My confidence With complaints On how common place My plain Life is The great times In complexity Simply End Too quickly Being me Became a meme A trend A fad That lasts temporarily As I change The wardrobe Of my beliefs To best suit the situation For times of war Or times of peace Offering myself A sacrificial ME Should suffice For their superficial Needs Supplying their demand Of wants The difference they cannot see I No better than them No better Than what they seek Not realizing I In this life Is all I need To proceed To “ever after” Happily The other Side of my brain Supplies The pain And suffering Inside of me Ushering The alternative Reality To my native Faculty of thoughts Felicity fails And the facility Of fury Derails My train of thought This casualty Casually causes The worst case scenario The battle within Never ends Each state of mind Debates with Indubitable facts And stats To seal my fate The future lies In mystery Happiness Or misery? The answers hard to see I still don’t cant find the key To unlock the doors To happiness in misery…
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Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 4:13 PM UTC
Happiness & Misery
Starlight falls on me Filling me with hope Burning ever bright Eternally burning Guiding our way through the night They shine like embers To light the way Through the darkest night They guide us Until day comes To brighten our hearts Ushering a new dawn A new day A new chance for us to start again
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Nov 29, 2011
Nov 29, 2011 at 11:32 PM UTC
Starlight
the false dawn banishes false hopes of finding sleep ahead of the rising sun transient glow accompanies first blush birdsong the cardinal's aubade ushering greeting the brush's first stroke across the canvas of night twitching limbs bloodshot eyes nonstop freight train of thought all night long - these afflictions allow me to witness the lonely beauty of today's sunrise
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Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 5:35 AM UTC
The Upshot Of Insomnia
em...   what's the difference between refugees, economic migrants... and ex-pats?    not much...     esp.with regards the latter... who are ex-pats? immigrants, from a de- host nation... English women sipping tea with Mussolini...   ex-pats:       out of, what? patriotism? maybe my latin prefixing is a bit rusty...                      ginger amy adams... by god....   if a rose... that... that is a rose...    strawberry blonde... mmm mmm... kentucky fried chicken...                     f'now i wish for an *** i can ***** all day long in Manhattan...   and be like: yummy and **** me three ways sinister...    because? why not?!      ginger ninja...              nunchucks up the *** to replace the ****** or the cucumbers...                   bridegroom of Bruce ******* Lee...                makes up for a degenerate market...    slurp an oyster... bargain on clam economy...      point being?           self-harming of girls replaces    the tattoo industry... of girls...          and the world continues its carousel "enterprise"...        then the world dies...    and then the world revives itself...             self-harming text books... and then comes along... tattoo -                          the spiral, deficit woman -     her due, her, own, her: albatross swoon - dive into the curtailed unknown -      a woman hindered - a woman governed by the hinterland - a scrap of, what became the scoop of what later became - the crown of Poseidon's scavenger                           ushering in... the last, of what remained: a peeled onion.                        St. Basil -                   came the crow, came the cathedral,    came the gauged out eyes.. came the croak...          came... the span of wings... came...                the labors -         a mind, a lost digestion... came...              a vision of a future... without the fiction of an immovable past.
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Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 8:17 PM UTC
an ode to amy adams
em...   what's the difference between refugees, economic migrants... and ex-pats?    not much...     esp.with regards the latter... who are ex-pats? immigrants, from a de- host nation... English women sipping tea with Mussolini...   ex-pats:       out of, what? patriotism? maybe my latin prefixing is a bit rusty...                      ginger amy adams... by god....   if a rose... that... that is a rose...    strawberry blonde... mmm mmm... kentucky fried chicken...                     f'now i wish for an *** i can ***** all day long in Manhattan...   and be like: yummy and **** me three ways sinister...    because? why not?!      ginger ninja...              nunchucks up the *** to replace the ****** or the cucumbers...                   bridegroom of Bruce ******* Lee...                makes up for a degenerate market...    slurp an oyster... bargain on clam economy...      point being?           self-harming of girls replaces    the tattoo industry... of girls...          and the world continues its carousel "enterprise"...        then the world dies...    and then the world revives itself...             self-harming text books... and then comes along... tattoo -                          the spiral, deficit woman -     her due, her, own, her: albatross swoon - dive into the curtailed unknown -      a woman hindered - a woman governed by the hinterland - a scrap of, what became the scoop of what later became - the crown of Poseidon's scavenger                           ushering in... the last, of what remained: a peeled onion.                        St. Basil -                   came the crow, came the cathedral,    came the gauged out eyes.. came the croak...          came... the span of wings... came...                the labors -         a mind, a lost digestion... came...              a vision of a future... without the fiction of an immovable past.
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80
When June comes dancing o'er the death of May, With scarlet roses tinting her green breast, And mating thrushes ushering in her day, And Earth on tiptoe for her golden guest, I always see the evening when we met-- The first of June baptized in tender rain-- And walked home through the wide streets, gleaming wet, Arms locked, our warm flesh pulsing with love's pain. I always see the cheerful little room, And in the corner, fresh and white, the bed, Sweet scented with a delicate perfume, Wherein for one night only we were wed; Where in the starlit stillness we lay mute, And heard the whispering showers all night long, And your brown burning body was a lute Whereon my passion played his fevered song. When June comes dancing o'er the death of May, With scarlet roses staining her fair feet, My soul takes leave of me to sing all day A love so fugitive and so complete.
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1.5k
A Memory of June
You have now left an inefficient existence in the dust To greatly savor a newborn energy No longer looking at life with a dreary cast You can see the truth with clarity A vibrant glow has been gently summoned forth Brightly illuminating the darkness Boldly restoring resilient confidence to your waiting soul Removing dark shadows from your countenance Go forth and now sow the seeds for your life’s garden Attentive, with painstaking care Step back softly and smile with sweet satisfaction As you, carefully watch them growing there Continuously bathe your garden in the vibrant glow Ushering new growth into the light Then stand quietly still with the proudest adoration Inhaling the beauty blooming in your sight
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Aug 7, 2010
Aug 7, 2010 at 7:14 PM UTC
Inhale the Beauty
3-1-2015 I remember yesterday. The morning birds notes gleefully played. I remember yesterday. I remember yesterday. The brightest morning there was seen, And yet there was no sun to beam. The wispy air and tired eyes, The devotion we all strive and try. My God, Selah. I remember yesterday. I remember yesterday. The day less fatigued from creaking souls. A new perception, new sights, and new goals. Classes flying, life goodbye-ing. Joyous day filled without even trying. I remember yesterday. I remember yesterday. The jokes he told. Simply comedy gold. The smile he gave. Mentality leaping from a grave. I am renewed and alive. I can't wait to see him and thrive. I remember yesterday. I remember yesterday. Two laughs blended to a familiar tune. Those girls brought me hope, and good fortune. To see them laugh, and smile; So hard, so deep, it's been a while. My sun and moon and stars above The pattern of their love. I remember yesterday. I remember yesterday. Yet yesterday is yanked from possibilities. Only reminiscing in soliloquys. Pointless to wish for it reoccurring. Now for new memories with a base for ushering. But I will always remember yesterday.
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Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 9:45 AM UTC
I Remember Yesterday
i have traversed many miles walking with the night, she with her satin leash wrapped around my neck, ushering me under a divine compass of stars who navigate me into a grey fog of fantasy; tempting me away from another tired night   of suggestion and malcontent. i do well stepping into my role of daydreamer in the night, eyes glazing over, body weaving like some mechanical soldier, as I slowly sink further and further into the rabbit hole of my mind, where i touch the membrane, the pulsing vein, the sturdy skull which cups the hiding   mass of brain, and the tangled knot of treasured ideas and thought. i enter casually under the mark of exit signs searching aimlessly for an idea, stuck in a lightless cave of a deeper depth, the one born and lost on the winding interstate, without pen and paper in hand to collaborate, eighty miles an hour of reckless power births creation, when neuron, synapse and speed galvanize into conceit. but this one escapes me. it flickers out of sight like the rest of them, as i close into where it hides, like some feral animal who knows not of a friendly hand, it scurries back into it's lonesome wasteland. but i remain walking under the invasive moonlight, for I yearn to take my idea back home, to wrestle it into submission, sew it to hand and feet and give it deserved recognition, to dive my sharpened teeth into the thick of it's juicy meaning to bleed ink onto paper, for there is nothing back in the stagnant terrain of my body, or here lying on my desk but the blank pages of the greatest story never written.
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Jan 30, 2016
Jan 30, 2016 at 12:16 AM UTC
the walk into my brain.
i have traversed many miles walking with the night, she with her satin leash wrapped around my neck, ushering me under a divine compass of stars who navigate me into a grey fog of fantasy; tempting me away from another tired night   of suggestion and malcontent. i do well stepping into my role of daydreamer in the night, eyes glazing over, body weaving like some mechanical soldier, as I slowly sink further and further into the rabbit hole of my mind, where i touch the membrane, the pulsing vein, the sturdy skull which cups the hiding   mass of brain, and the tangled knot of treasured ideas and thought. i enter casually under the mark of exit signs searching aimlessly for an idea, stuck in a lightless cave of a deeper depth, the one born and lost on the winding interstate, without pen and paper in hand to collaborate, eighty miles an hour of reckless power births creation, when neuron, synapse and speed galvanize into conceit. but this one escapes me. it flickers out of sight like the rest of them, as i close into where it hides, like some feral animal who knows not of a friendly hand, it scurries back into it's lonesome wasteland. but i remain walking under the invasive moonlight, for I yearn to take my idea back home, to wrestle it into submission, sew it to hand and feet and give it deserved recognition, to dive my sharpened teeth into the thick of it's juicy meaning to bleed ink onto paper, for there is nothing back in the stagnant terrain of my body, or here lying on my desk but the blank pages of the greatest story never written.
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86
Exiled for three hundred years Without limbs, missing eyes, and unseen sins The Church of Jesus Christ had been laid waste Quietly living under the heavy boot of Roman Persecution The bloodied Bride standing in Babylon waiting for her Groom Hundreds of years prior, deep in the memory of the ancient past Lay God Incarnate, dead in a tomb Suffering for the sake of His very Bride So too now does His wife lay dying The Church being dismembered for His very sake Three hundred years of darkness and exile Separated from brothers and sisters by tyranny Under duress and suffering inflicted by Rome Until came an Emperor and a vacation home To defeat the terror and end an exile Constantine saw the Son of God and was granted victory in battle Ushering in new peace and edicts to end the centuries of persecution The Church of Jesus Christ was finally reunited and reconciled For the Winter had passed, the night was over The Spring had finally come, and the sun shone like the flaming tongues at Pentecost Bishops and priests, pastors and deacons, fathers and sons; they descended upon Nicaea Men with lost limbs and erased eyes, with restless wounds and sinister sins; they came To reunite the Body of Christ, to define the Church for the life of the world To remember what had been forgotten, and forget that ought which not be remembered These men of God came to Nicaea to re-establish that from which they had previously departed Confirming the core beliefs of the Body of Christ; the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth The Lord Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, made man Incarnate from the Blessed ****** And in the Spirit of God, the Lord the giver of life In one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church Existent for the sake of the life of the world Broken they came, united they left Exiled they were, one Church they became When our spiritual fathers came upon the little town of Nicaea And remembered the Church they had long forgotten that they were
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Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 12:03 AM UTC
Nicaea
Exiled for three hundred years Without limbs, missing eyes, and unseen sins The Church of Jesus Christ had been laid waste Quietly living under the heavy boot of Roman Persecution The bloodied Bride standing in Babylon waiting for her Groom Hundreds of years prior, deep in the memory of the ancient past Lay God Incarnate, dead in a tomb Suffering for the sake of His very Bride So too now does His wife lay dying The Church being dismembered for His very sake Three hundred years of darkness and exile Separated from brothers and sisters by tyranny Under duress and suffering inflicted by Rome Until came an Emperor and a vacation home To defeat the terror and end an exile Constantine saw the Son of God and was granted victory in battle Ushering in new peace and edicts to end the centuries of persecution The Church of Jesus Christ was finally reunited and reconciled For the Winter had passed, the night was over The Spring had finally come, and the sun shone like the flaming tongues at Pentecost Bishops and priests, pastors and deacons, fathers and sons; they descended upon Nicaea Men with lost limbs and erased eyes, with restless wounds and sinister sins; they came To reunite the Body of Christ, to define the Church for the life of the world To remember what had been forgotten, and forget that ought which not be remembered These men of God came to Nicaea to re-establish that from which they had previously departed Confirming the core beliefs of the Body of Christ; the Father, the Almighty, maker of heaven and earth The Lord Jesus Christ, the only Son of God, made man Incarnate from the Blessed ****** And in the Spirit of God, the Lord the giver of life In one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church Existent for the sake of the life of the world Broken they came, united they left Exiled they were, one Church they became When our spiritual fathers came upon the little town of Nicaea And remembered the Church they had long forgotten that they were
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34
*indeed the english do not trill their r but simply curl it (a bit like having a lollipop stuck in your mouth and saying something) - certain feats of elocution can't be taught, they're a bit like working out on your forearm muscles in the gym, and indeed the tongue can be the cynical muscle defying a methodology of weaving in a chameleon presence into a host society.* and do you know what hell i had trying to teach one of my cats to **** into the toilet and take a **** on the tiles? a shout when she did both on the tiles and then petting her and ushering in soothing words while she did no. 1 into the toilet and no. 2 on the tiles... i mean **** i can pick up off the tiles, bleach the area and forget, cleaning both **** and **** off the tiles made my gag, at least human excrement can suggest it's sweet, and we're all solipsists liking our own stinks - sound proof - take your **** into a public place and the theory will stand about 2000 years that you'll be the sole appreciator of your own stink - and that memory of me being a kid, i used to do the same, take a **** on the bathroom tiles, and when i finally started using the toilet at first i was actually perching on it / crouching on as opposed to sitting on... mind you i did suffer from a hernia when i was a toddler... what's hernia? well, the mighty internet is here, check it out.
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Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
toilet behaviour after a toddler's hernia
“Smack—” brutal interruption. Boeings groan down the runway—flight! “Smack.” The ceiling. Freedom, flight, yes—there it is! The hollow, cloudless sky, The deep song of technology Ushering them all unto distant horizons, To distant shores. Now—“Smack!” The window. Portals of complexity, numbers; calculations. Confusion, darkness, loneliness— “Smack” Crippled wings and foreign tongues, Dejected, forgotten refuse makes for a greasy coffin As the carcass awaits decomposition. Defeat. Death.
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Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 2:24 AM UTC
Terminal Bird
Shut, open once more Mortal eyes to welcome the light: The modest ushering in of photons who tiptoe towards the photoreceptors dancing, gingerly between their fingertips whispering their electrochemical messages— tens of millions of data-bits— bundled and strung up in between synapses Sent to a distant place in the back of my head Segregated, sorted rearranged until the details emerge.
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Mar 7, 2023
Mar 7, 2023 at 10:08 AM UTC
Neuroscientist writes Poetry