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Brooksimus Sep 2011
Trembles commence beneath the exterior
An eruption blacker than a hollow wails superior

All light alienates,
Obscured by manifested immorality
Only spared by vast vitality

Virtuousness defended,
Intended to liberate slaved maliciousness

Autonomy of the anima was the consequence
A union through yielded yin and panged yang existence
nora Feb 2022
if i could find words not in vain to describe her,
verses of her Virtuousness, i would sing
her humble approval in glances so fleeting
her song like a robin’s, beckoning the spring
our friendship, a gentle yet short affair
she, the girl with the golden hair

oh, how i would press softest lips to her own
should she give me a whisper, an answer, a plea,
and yet, from her halo of Heavenly judgement
not once has she cast a soft look towards me
a heart that is wounded beyond repair
she, the girl with the golden hair

through Holiest laughter, i smooth back her tresses
her eyes crinkle up in a bittersweet smile
i murmur, i love you, she tells me, i’m sorry.
we sit in the frost of december a while
warm breath on cold cheeks, puffs of hot air
from she, the girl with the golden hair

winter is breaking, and spring is long gone,
as is her gossamer, dissolute song
our friendship, a tender yet brief affair
me and the girl with the golden hair.
this is very. unnecessarily elevated language. oh well
Reverist Aug 2014
The reaper's eyes were on her,
Yet she never bowed.
The reaper's ax chose her,
Yet she never soughed.

Death was finally in love,
With the girl he could never cow,
For she was something he could never have,
A girl with a skin too firm to swallow.

Why couldn't he touch the girl,.
The girl whose tears never fell,
The girl whose eyes are pearl,
The girl whose voice is a shim of bell?

Her secret wasn't a mystery,
She was too pure to be touched by maleficence.
The reaper desired her for her rarity,
But his hands burned at the touch of virtuousness.

Death chased her everyday,
In the hopes of taking her soul,
But  her soul was too far away,
Far away for him to hold.

The young maiden didn't even notice
The harvester at her tail.
She was too involved in lightness
For her to witness his veil.

The reaper's ax was rotting,
It was yearning blood,
Though who he was lusting,
Was nothing but an illusion set by god.

The girl was a mirage,
God's own penalty,
Towards the slayer,
That gave birth to misery.
Michael LoMonaco Sep 2016
This test is the most crucial exam by life,
Deciding paths of vileness or virtuousness.

The questionnaire is not always simple,
Unable to form practical comprehension.

Ethics from morality are stunned by emotions,
Summiting answers based on raw wickedness.

Rubber is given to repair the flaws of humanity,
Intended to rectify the mistakes of imperfections.

Righteous answers leads to a higher score,
While evil responses results in decrease points.

Filling in statements that will be rated by God,
People represent the faith of their own destiny.

You can’t earn a perfect ranking on the final essay,
Marking errors with a red pen by superior judgement.

A higher power recognizes true forgiveness from sin,
Let the eraser expunge faults of living by wise choices.

When your replies are considered for evaluation,
The creator grades a ruling that decides divineness.
Dominique Simeus Mar 2022
I. Death of the Phoenix
Dear Mama

Falling stars, moonlight dark, red torches spread
Ere dawn of day, far over river deep
When in the lads the dares of fancy fame
Oft they quested to waking fortunes’ sleep

Sweet aroma of summer breath afar
Soft waving hair and likeness sunny guise
And stillness in the gaze like ocean hues
‘Twas lambent Pearl, the radiant crown ‘neath skies  

‘O rose of blues slowly drained the silent seas
When looting’s Muse had wed the maiden Pride
That raged against the rising of the sun  
To fall and fall in servitudes denied

Down empty streets where humble stations stood
Though heads bowed down, the broken wills undone
Hailed supple hopes, but midst the hopes, avowed
The oppressed bride and aim that cannot run

Ah, the sky is clear, Oh, the mourning doves
Out of the seas came out the knightly steeds
With faces stained red and blue, rode amain
The crimson shores of those in wants or needs

Then came the billows’ mists o’er unrest land
With thunders’ roar and freezing cold decades
Lone in despair, no Beacon, close or far
Alas! Alas! The unloved lost in fades

‘O gleeful hymn once roamed untrodden grounds
Beyond the gates of wraths and shades and fears
Now skims the air whilst nightingales diffuse
Lest fetter to wills of avarice’s Peers

‘O swirling darkness, drowning bleakness state
Like waves of tears that burst from heart of ache
On pyre of flame delight, by now grows dim
Consumes with shameful scorns, doze unawake

‘O woe betide my dream and I
My aim, my soul, my credo die
                                                             ­                Your Dying Daughter

II. The Phoenix Shall Re-Rise
My Beloved Child

Let heav’n light rest upon twin rivulets
And cast returning glow on worried cheek
Let lively hope return sweet virtuousness
And stop the weeping weep of small and weak

Whence softly rave the words the leafy grasped
Whilst few amid rich flowers, woods, and fields
Summoned daydreams in oppressed sleeps to wake
In painful stoic with neither swords nor shields

Methinks if this had happened not, perchance
That beauty rare would echo still in tune
And wits like wings in varied raptures ‘d fly
With idle dread ‘til reach the waning moon

By the placid Rivers, like ores of rare
That made the riverbeds mirroring sun
The crafty trails, the vermeil meadow pawns
Where hostages to priceless glints had fun

Ponder awhile on those invective Streams
When weary hopes sought access into soul’
Which knew no moist, but moist of falling tears
Arose amid sweet rainy boon parole

‘O brave Angel to whom the homage paid
When shades of freedom, death, unity, strength
Aloft the hills, albeit the odds were few
‘Til resilience and prowess at full length  

‘O silent mute on which misery lies
The brazen proud, the humble roots stretch still
Whose keen presence the flood and storm esteem
So firm and deep, anon to aims fulfill’  

Tree that blooms from river blood, time is nigh
For solitude that hides near shimming lake
To burst aflame from remnants of the now
Like phoenix sunned in ashen dust awake’

Oh, then, I’ll dream that dream once dreamt
That latest dream few've ever dreamt
                                                          ­                                   Love Ma


III. One Moon
Dear Beacons

Come midnight ghosts that slide along the yards
Call exiled forth, and haggle for their quests
Where leering eyes at nightfall gate ignore
Arising slain yearn newness’ lives abreast

From tortuous routes and wave to wave to shores
Where skies no longer bright and glad deceive
No gentle fair nor answers to hold dear
When pride depressed to swirling hopes believe  

Relume the gold of havens found
Cast shadow aping’s frowns to ground

Then, from sweet unrest, twilight world will rouse
To peaceful fields, and cool of breezy night
O’er which clouds float and run, whilst dancing stars
Adorn. And lo, the moon is full and bright

                                                         ­                                     Amor Fati,
                                                           ­                                   Alkebulan
Michael LoMonaco Nov 2018
Disappointment stings through shame,
As remorse by immorality burns the conscience.

Remembering errors tears the soul,
Punishing yourself by visions of past sins.

Dismay from history doesn’t have to scar,
Even if previous wrongdoing can’t be repaired.

Being remorseful not for erasing guilt,
But for the sole purpose of selfless virtue.

Learning from historic moments,
Preventing mistakes from repeating.

Once wickedness is replaced by righteous ways,
Fulfillment will be built on virtuousness.
Chemicalized grin, shut up ***** while I shove it back in. 6-30-16 {...open with welcomed arms...}: I became more stupid without assistance. After each shave I slipped my pantyhose on with ease. Stubble could shred my hosiery if I weren't careful, costing me money. I couldn't play God anymore and my pastor knew it.
Shivpriya Apr 2019
Hello! O bingeing
loser!

Come out of your
fatigued stamina,
which is so
despondently,
affected by your
broken dreams.

The vigilantness of an
angelically winged being,
is so happy with your
factualness.

Their guiding virtuousness,
gives buddleia hugs to you.
Please stop worrying
and enjoy their serenely
gentilesse.

Shivpriya
# beautifulthingsandemotions
Andrew Crawford Jul 2020
A ****** of birds,
crows perching;
serpent slithering, swerves;
worms turning the dirt.

Working up the nerve at first,
fervently burst
from the earth,
surfacing through turf-
the birth of a person
occurring virginous,
nature versus nurture
emerged.

Words, verbs,
and terms heard
become verses earned;
sermons for internal clergy,
pertinent versions of our
self-virtuousness
unfettered and perverse.

Our perfect sureness disturbed
by learning hurt;
mercilessly surgical,
wounds nursed,
suturing severed mirth
leaving nerves astir.

No longer impervious,
a servant to
this awkward burden
and absurd turbulence,
I stand sturdy and firm but
impureness the curse, I must purge;
lurching as I traverse the curves
of this circle in
recurrent purpose, further;
trying to revert
back to where we were.

But tempered in
the furnace, immersed,
unable to curb my thirst
when third degree burns
urgently incur worse;
such pains aplenty
and diverse,
worries certain
as fate concurs.

Afterwards a blur
of what my composure
diverted, detered,
survived, and conquered,
but nothing left
which to refer;
just a fading dirge
and ashes filling urn.

— The End —