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SpiritWriter

Rambling Poetry Thread

205 posts in this topic

I tell you to be careful, so that you yourself would not be mesmerized by such a thing and therefore be put into a trance, but that you would remember it is a tool, to be used by you.. and only you. She was referring to the encapsulated _______. The _______ within the stone was dead and so was he. I would think that with her magic she could have made it a living thing. I knew she could read my min...

d but still I concealed my emotions. I was grieved that she would remind me of him, and ask me to hold on to something unliving. I let the sadness burn behind my eyes only, it did not well up or spill down my face. My lips were tense so not to quiver. I also rejected the thought that with her powers she could have prevented all of this from happening in the first place. I criticized her, silently of course. She could have taken up the whole island, brought it to the sky. Behind her darkness broke out against the blue. Silhouettes of the ancestors rose and moved around like monsters. I felt sick and suddenly wanted to lie down. _______ took me and made a bed for me, she stroked my eyes and soon I was asleep.

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I am not hiding from my name

but rather my name found me

sitting on the stone

white as snow

all things that I were

were generated in crystals

it was the type of thing that could melt down

and land into the water

somehow

between the spaces in the dirt

that looked like specks of shadow

spreckled around

and if they were pale

they'd be specks for birds and flowers

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This is not me.

How did I get here?

Ah yes, remembrances...

another birthday,

another christmas,

another graduation,

another wedding.

But these are the rites of adulthood

and I've left my childhood behind.

I miss the young 'me' that used to be,

and all that, that might have been.

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Propaganda

they entered them in

two at the same time

set them at their hights

and gave them two

different colored sticks

for battle

they had streamers

and were live on t.v.

smiling looking like a donkey

and another wierd animal

with a stiff leg.

They had a party

killed some folks

and did whatever they wanted.

Edited by SpiritWriter
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I am trapped inside my face

by body's hugged as I erase

the pastel life behind me

I cry the tears of age

my slender mouth's a silent rage

poem I wrote for a drawing I saw ^

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* with edits

Propaganda

They entered them in

two at the same time

set them at their heights

and gave them two

different colored sticks

for battle.

They had streamers

and were live on t.v.

smiling, looking like a donkey

and another weird animal

with a stiff leg.

They had a party

killed some folks

and did whatever they wanted.

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cataract'd by the monitors

blinking due to the eyes

more and more scratchy

do not up-root what is last of me

do not yank what I have left behind

my skin was on my lashes

shortly

behind

they

se-pa-rate

something stays behind.

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my root had a deeper root

you can dig down till you cannot find

and there will still be hairs

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I took Gretta out.

She aint no Christian.

No siree, she sweated up a storm

her combs falling all over the floor.

She bend down to pick it up

look like she knows

what she was doing too.

I told her watch it

with those man drinks

got her a bunch of water

sat her down,

hotter than

a swarm of maggots in July.

Some of them folks

act like alligators.

Edited by SpiritWriter

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I am a mirror to myself

My eyes see the things I understand

Do not think

that this time space

is un-unique to that of history

it is not

as all things are not

the same in any regard

do not think also that

it is any different

for always there has been

a moment shared

between the multitude

They do not react simultaneously

but as ripples in a pond

and as steam that rises

and as fog collects

and as clouds that travel then to rain

when you return to touch me

no matter where you have been

no matter what you have seen

no matter how we are different

we are still the same

*

I am white

and have been influenced by blackness

and now I am gray in my brain

once you were red

but only on the outside

inside you were blue

and then you spilled into the grass

you dissappeared

leaving only a sticky residue

even now if you could be extracted

from the dirt

you would still be brown

Edited by SpiritWriter

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I did need to appear the weaker.

I did have to submit,

though she was not bigger than me,

though she was not stronger and surely no match.

I would be put out on my ear if I were to harm her,

her intelligence, her vulnerable spot of existence,

to take her down from her throne.

Oh the bureaucracy

I cannot escape the pretending!

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FYI I do welcome all and every entries. ((:-) *tripple backswirl*** WHEEEE *whole bunch of smileys****

Edited by SpiritWriter

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*

A trained up man

is a wise man,

so women: Be ye wise.

Treat the man

like a Gentleman

lest he be mild

for a Man is a Beast!

Look we not for

the little man

but the Good man.

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Apple poem #1

Evaluate,

put value to

these words:

Apple

Quince

Serpent

Eve

Curse

Whore

Dragon

Menstruation

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She had several apples

each of these had worms and snakes

with degrees of pale skin

clashed as if in half

cold on the stone

distinct seperation

skinned like zebras

they took hold

with their bellies

to the concrete between the grass

they crawled up the branches

and swung from the trees

they had silk threads

they traveled in the wind

as the sperm of wilderness

one did not know

what they carried

but only

that they

survived in the apple.

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She had several apples.

Each of these had worms

and a certain degree

of pale skin.

Ridged into a smooth crumble,

its markation was perfect to trace,

if it allowed for such carressing.

Clashed as if in half,

cold on the stone,

distinct in seperation,

they were skinned as zebras.

They took with their bellies

to the concrete between the grass.

They crawled up the branches

and swung from the leaves,

in gleaming heads of silk

they found the other trees.

our assailants

our a-sail-ing saints

we duck from them

we turn them into birds

we feed them

and revere their destruction

this was the innocent one

the tender little green

not even fuzz on the critter

little black dot face

could not even squiggle

like a "real" worm

more like inch-wormed

into my hair

into my skin

and got everywhere

and on to other branches.

They were the sperms of wilderness.

travelling in mass.

I do not know what they carry.

But only that they survived in the apple

and now are attacking me.

Edited by SpiritWriter

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The meaning of an Apple

An apple means my dad

because he has an Adam’s apple

and I got one too.

I got it from my dad.

He had big trees

and gave me lots of fruit.

They tasted very good

and he made me smile widely.

He called me

his little apple.

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Purpose.

I think I've found my purpose, all these years it's stared me in the face.

Now a warm heart fills me, with a love thats born of god's grace.

My life now has new meaning, I will smile when I transpire.

The well of my soul is brimming, with waters that will inspire.

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Purpose.

I think I've found my purpose, all these years it's stared me in the face.

Now a warm heart fills me, with a love thats born of god's grace.

My life now has new meaning, I will smile when I transpire.

The well of my soul is brimming, with waters that will inspire.

YEAYYY

Well aint that what its all about! :DD

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The God Mom: Reminds her children about God.

If there be a trifold and the utmost be the Grandma-Hag,

let her, let it be known from the eyes of wisdom.

She has seen the shine on the apple.

She has kissed the snake.

Her heart has wrapped around long enough to incubate.

Within her breast are all her children.

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The Succubas was pure spirit with the ability to take different forms. She would mostly stay as a woman, but sometimes she would change into something else and would walk around. She did it merely for entertainment. If she were to get caught, she would go straightway to Hell. Father _______ hired her for a specific assignment. She was in charge of the women. She was also the seductress. At the proper time each month, she would go into the cathedral; she would go behind the purple tent and take the Devil’s seed. She would then, keeping them warm, beneath a fold in her skin, run to her quarters, which was across a dark and sometimes damp field to transport the seed into a warm liquid bath that she cared for herself. She would be punished if they were found to be beneath a certain temperature. Because of her fear and skill, not even once had they been damaged. For quite a few months she had been collecting them.

One day after she had come back from a long walk, she found the entire bath missing. For three and a half weeks she could not come to the Priest and admit the truth about how she had failed. One day, three and a half days before their scheduled tent meeting the Father called her to the medical building and introduced her to a new scientist. His name was Carl. Carl explained the process of what he had accomplished so far. They had been experimenting, inserting the seed into the egg, in various degrees of splicing. In terms the Succubus could barely understand he informed her that they had been successful in cross-insemination and that quite a few human clones with demonic spirits had been created. Clearly the scientist was an intelligent minion but Father _______ still smacked him in the back of the head and called him an imbecile.

Under his breath, Carl exasperatedly sputtered, “Hey, they don’t teach this stuff in Hell you *******.”

On their way out they made whisperings about such and such and this and that, as to tickle the scientists ear. The Father guided The Succubus down the hall, past the closet to a little room that had a purple glowing light within it. In the center of the room, a metal baton with a green globe for a head, hovered, completely unattached to its magnetic stand.

The Succubus looked at the contraption in horror. In fear that her services would now be barely needed, she became suddenly desperate. In vain, she tempted The Father. She grabbed his arm and then pressed herself to him. “Lets not wait until the meeting.” She said clutching him closer and grinding against him with her groin. “Let us freshen the seed now.” She said, but he fowly and hotly breathed against her with a wrenched nose and upturned lips.

“You disgust me. What we do together is purely for the work of the Lord.” He pushed her off of him. He walked over to the device and removed it from its platform. “I have hired the best scientists. Never before has technology been so advanced.” He stretched it out and shoved it in her direction. She put up her arms in defense and retracted backwards, kneeling momentarily. He shoved it at her again, more ferociously and barked. “Take it! It is yours.”

She stood and straightened the skirt of her dress. Recomposed she accepted the long structure and curiously examined the glowing orb. Luminescent green particles swirled, taking a form similar to the Milky-Way, they floated, they were in balance.

“The seed will now be kept in here. No longer do we need to do it the old way.” He explained, thumping the glass. His mustache and goatee were gloating. “It has been vacuumed and sealed and is set to a motion that will maintain a human temperature. There is no way for impurities to penetrate it."

"All of the seed, minus what the scientist has extracted is here. Do not fear my dear one, you are still needed. If the seed’s life gets below 73% at any time an alarm will sound and The Head Devil will appear. If that should occur you will certainly be beaten mercilessly or sentenced back to hell. Do not think for a moment that you cannot be replaced!”

The Father saw that she was unmoved. She had heard it all before and knew that he was bluffing. He continued, but only after clearing the lump of his own inadequacies from his throat. “You are charged with entertaining it. It would be well for you to dress before it. It would also be well for you to perform ritual in front of it. This will keep it alive and make it rejuvenate.”

***

Back in her own quarters, she had three human girls in training. They had already been broken. And she had already set them up with something to live for, they got her rejected gowns and hand me downs. The Succubus, being evil had no soft spot at all for those she tormented. You would think being a tormented soul herself she would have compassion but she was utterly void of it. She knew of her responsibilities, she knew of the consequences if she failed, she knew of her own delights and that was all. She did not particularly enjoy to torment. If it were a choice between to kill or not to kill, to break a bone, to cut or smack or let it slip, she made the decision based on what would benefit her. She neither minded or got a kick out these things, it was just part of the overall grand masterpiece. She would serve her master, doing the job that he wanted, she would be awarded the luxuries of her present life, she was respected and desired and all (within her circle) were at her mercy and her command.

The Head Devil visited her in a dream. “I like what your doing with the girls.” He said. “But that doesn’t get you off the hook. Whatever they give me, you should give me double. I have not yet been satisfied.”

The Succubus was astonished, as the Head Devil had never, on this trip visited her so far. “Never will a devil be satisfied.” She thought to herself.

He responded and said, “I can hear you.”

She turned her head as she undressed, following his echo to the back wall, face to face she was with his many shadows. She watched his voice bounce once and for all into the soundness of the deep corners. She began to perform and as she did so, he pointed in silhouettes to her breasts which were long and withery instead of round and full. His gentle laughter shook the floor. Looking down at herself, she thought quickly; and kicked herself for forgetting to eat enough meat.

“I am not human you *******. I am not bothered by these things.”

She decided to go to sleep. This kept him quiet until the morning.

Edited by SpiritWriter

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Do you believe God

could tell his story in many different ways,

but in very similar ways at the same time

and use a multitude of characters

to act out different aspects of Him,

meanwhile laughing at us,

in the laughter of rain?

He would say to this one,

there is no God and he would be right

because This God could not be seen.

He would hand over lightness to a shadow,

and the shadow's hand would disappear.

He would blow and wind would pour

into the dark half.

Would God have a drop for a tear?

Could he produce just one from his eye,

or from them do only come the tides?

Do only storms bear from them,

and only an hurricane endure from

midway out the ocean of mystery?

Could round about we get lost,

our foot unaware of any direction?

Could the curve of us cause us to swerve,

or are we always, straightway toward our own center?

Could we, like a black hole be sucked

into our own lights and turn inside out?

Then would we know God,

or would he still be too far away from us.

There is one I know.

He is not a simple man.

He is not one who is oh so shallow.

A glimpse of the world is all he gave to me.

Small like a pearl.

Just a gentle light that I have swallowed.

Edited by SpiritWriter

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293703_550972511584710_950691403_n.jpg

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Tongue twied boid

I wish you knew my thoughts

and the meaning of the squeal behind my ear.

chomple

it sounds like gutteral

i can't do it

i can try but I surely couldn't spell it

so no matter

on the other end

you would never relate

cher cher 'whis' 'whis'

Ker cuoo kdkdkd

TWEET, stweet,

smh see I tried.

It sounds pretty though

to my heart

it doesn't exactly rhyme.

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or maybe it does.

It does seem mathematical.

*

it is hard to

close your eyes

and let the blossoms emerge on your skin

as if from your fingers came the well that showered the heaven

and the smile that keeps on giving

i am warm beneath your cheeks

i am glowing over my whole body

but not like you

i am just your reflection

the glimmer on your pond

*

I am the gleam of the peak.

I am the right mind.

I am full understanding.

I am no understanding at all,

but not subject to failure.

I am complete faith.

I am the in-between space.

I am the fear that is yet to be conquered.

You are my conqueror.

You have conquered me.

But I have become you

and we are together.

Edited by SpiritWriter
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