Sunday, November 19, 2017

An Angel's Retire


                                                          I know you must be tormented-
  the nihilist of narcissistic obsessions;
                                                    weaving in and out only,

                                                                                      of your own grandeur , your own illusions,

while underneath,

you steep some falsetto's
  of echoing hatred, seeping of self despise.



  The allure of the dark, a strange drawl; an elusive torment,
because as all time passes, not the veil between
  you nor I

That never lifts.


Every thought, behind every breath is blanketed-
  the charcoals like wretched claws,
pulling me deep
I imagine, this place, is the place we meet.
perhaps more capable of Love, Dark Thing,
what it is that binds us,
  is the sweet promise of your blindfolds,
and my hands bound.

For a night, your Demons take me to Bed, while I finally allow them this one occasion,
to lay with an Angel-
  that is bound you had made me-
    that I would do that for you
and only you.


  All the corners of my own ego
cower more, as loss of concern
  drive's passion's inferno.

Cloaked, I decided long ago,
 to embrace the Shadow of my God,

Much as I embrace the life.

  Cowardly, I stay where it's warm, yet under shade,
never walking into the path of your domination...fearful..
  that i might die
by the bind of you.

Twas the bind by both, then devour and consume me whole- I will live out my days on this Earth, dancing our shadows and not bound by any taboo of goodness.

  and only you, can blindfold me.  By the moonlight.  by your will.
and by the very real cloth, that you place over my eyes, and knot behind my head.

kneeled,  once and for all,
might i submit,
thy dance be done.

  naked, a moon shade casting through the window
and my body, finally ownly yours
to do with
  as you please.

  my flesh glowing a silver blue from the night sky
shades casted against my curves,
now every inch yours, as you view my kneeled submission, in wrapped hands,
begging eyes, and your gag to test
  my commitment.

I beg you
to bind me.

to own me.

to never stop.

to let me in.

to open to the way i want to love you,
as you open to the way I want to be loved.

let me drag you into the light,
as you soil
  my every belief system,

and replace it with something
  we make.
something that is ours.
where we are an us.

and I will worry nothing more
of this world,
nor her need of God.

   This is how much I love you.
To give you everything.  yet no fool...

i will die by you, or leave-  fool is all lovers, and you,
 as cowardly as I.

  Blindfold your Angel.  Snuff her might.  Allow her submission.
bare her.
  Make our Children.
Love.

and let us,
Demon, Angel, and Man

defy God.

Bare me.
and let us defy all reason.
  Give our children the curse and might of our divine throwns,
Good and Evil,

and take my hand.
  Bind it in daylight by ring,
and night, by band

  and come morning I can reveal God's heaven..
   while night, we roam, dancing the Devil's great Test.

I am willing to meet you half way- to dip my body in the black,
and see if I still emerge.

  Can you, Man and Demons,
face the love and warmth of Dawn's Halo?

Can you bathe in the Spring of Divine will, and emerge still Dark?
 I am a testatment that the dark always lives,

as does the light, My Life, My Love.

Devour me.

Bare me.

Meet me.

I miss the kingdom you created-
  psychotic and lustful,
of the devil's promise alone.

God remained, the love between us, in all that darkness.
  the only light,
and it was enough.

I never submitted.
  I wasn't taught to.
not but for God.

and you,
 you were the only one to dispel that.
to promise of an abyss that lured me desperately.
  you pressed  the sins of Eve
right out of my obedience,

and together,
we ate of fruits we could never undo.

I fell in Love, with the Enemy.

  never submitted,
til' now, I beg.



 

Facebook Reparation

Content.  Had Become soul-less.
Habitats for cohesion, evolved, and by implementation,
How candidly gone to drive us mad.
Down.
To separate us.
Divide.

     Reparation's callous controls
as content dries of residual faceless feeds
and echo chambers,
and pictures,
and trends,
and naked women all over
  every
echo chamber known to society's men.

Callousness grows like weeds in wine gardens-
  a virus gorging out of Los Angeles,
New York,
Chicago.

The cities go blue.  We hold.  The life-blood of passion burning bright
in the torches
   of patriots still,
while we all go mad arguing truths.

God stay silent,
  while the omens go unheard.

I'm sorry, too big a burden to deliver-
the wretched caring of men.


  Bleach-bit, worn out, pixels drying up
  my running veins.
Yet blown, down, hollow
only some stack of cards, and nothing more.

Was but a faded castle of paper thin illusions,
  and yet, the real world, a scoped mirror,

to our deepest fears anyhow,
as long as we stay, running.

  Roots calcify over my beating veins,
blood rushing through torrents like lava,
invisible to core.

  I became something more long ago, the Earth, taking me up, in bits and pieces.

      Reminding me,
I am of Her; I can sustain no breath Gaia not allows.

Flesh restores, slipping, sipping only like the bees of nectar.  Holy Refrain, will dig our flesh a lonely grave.

I miss Love, like slipping my feet in the wild flowers, and upon the earth's skirt.
  The repave of social collisions and societal antidotes,
Haunted ever by the evil lurking in the subtle undergrounds

Of Masters,
vs.
their ruled.

  Implored, Chained, and having gone to battle, no shield shall protect me more than Arc's.
Only the Shield of the Most High,

  and even still.
Granted, and imposed,

I will come to God, covered in Pig stool.
  For I have been a fool and sinned as any man.  Lied.  Stolen.  Committed Adultery.  Even binding my acts to God's name.

We all are wretchedly sure, and as ignorant as infants.  I can not even apologize for this.

Mucked, I have been tossed and thrown without vengeance.

  I have been betrayed, and left to fend.
So, in Gaia's grace, I rest my head, and Pray.

      It is in God's grace in the heaven's that I connect the Holy light,
with the practician of the Earth.

I am restored because I choose to Love.
  Against all hollow undergrounds,

and clown journalism, your Face, goes blank, and lifeless,
  only digital codes,
plastered loosely,

of record-less content.

Thursday, November 16, 2017

Redemption




Everything is existential now-a-days.
I presume, when it comes to the human brain- the way we ponder purpose and existence, 
  that existentialism dates back as far as evolution.



I pick up this blunt as if putting my hand on the trigger.
  Everything is slowed down.  Precise.  Of the moment, second,
by
second,

by second. 

Everything is a choice. 
and following, an equal opportunity for contemplation;
some would argue,

Therefore also Redemption. 

     If I seek Redemption,
it is in the happiness of This life. 


I love God, But do not fear him. 
Rather to be feared is the pain possible of this life,
second,
by second

by second. 

But I would rather not fear,
that either. 

  Precise. 

Calculated.  Cold.  Surrendering.  Nonchalant.  Examining. 
Everything

is existential. 
Including us.