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| | IntrospectionPage 89 of 93 (53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93) | Introspection
Inside a fantasy, I clave
To an image so dear,
Falling into Ukiyoe
Afraid to awaken.
She never disappeared.
But she still isn’t present.
I search for her in my
Dreams—where could
She be?
Within a portrait, I can
Hear the screams—a
Wailing soul, begging to
Become one.
Was it biblical insanity?—
The spirit of Isaiah?—or
Was I trapped in a dream?—
Eager to graduate therein.
The sadness of Jeremiah
Seized my soul, after I was
Afloat for a fortnight—
What is this madness!
My spirit is split in two.
What shall become of the
Halves? Shall I remain
Unwhole!
And is everything sheer
Imagery?—a mere
Disguise!—where ever
We yearn for our souls.
Naive | |
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| Introspection
Posted: 4/24/2012 2:46:34 PM | Inheritance
Untruss the soul, and peer
Into the madness. He was
Raised in the belly of the
Beast, an offshoot of the
Womb of turmoil. He was
Taught to consecrate death—
Thus, he longed for the
Coming reign. Was he
Ordained to suffer silently?
Wasn’t everyone ordained
To suffer silently? And
“What goes on in this home
Stays in this home.” Was it
Prophetic wretchedness!—
Akin to prophetic depression—
Chasing after his shadow,
Forever present as the
Darkness. Madness became
A ritual—the curse of
Existence. But he was told
To seek, to seek out the
Reflection of God, for God
Shepherds the contrite. Thus,
He sought with all his soul,
Experiencing the esoteric,
Growing strong throughout
The seasons—still subject to
The madness. Foreign sages
Depicted in visions, brought
Him comfort—he kept his
Secrets hidden while they
Grew—but the light shines
In the dark—thus, affliction
Catered to his person. His
Spirit wailed for solace—
Taken to moments of peace,
Pleading to understand.
Naive | |
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| Introspection
Posted: 4/24/2012 3:21:45 PM | Supplication
Stamp me, Lord, that I
My flaunt the riches of
Heaven.—for I wait
Patiently for the seraphim.
Grant me another anointing
My Lord, for I have fallen
Into the shadows, preyed
Upon by dark forces,
Streaming from my
Punctured soul.
If I am to be forgiven,
Erase my ignorance, for
Blessed is the man whose
Sins have been forgiven.
How I worship unto the
Visitation of spirit,
Burning in the canticles
Of ecstasy.
My eyes have grown teary,
For my spirit is aching
Sorely—musing upon the
Chasm of prayer,
Wherefore, I was lost in
The storm.
Purify my heart, my Lord.
Give me the strength to
Seek beyond the
Boundaries of carnal wisdom.
—for I am eager to soar,
My Lord, to soar into the
Heart of my Lord, lest I
Perish to my thoughts. | |
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| Introspection
Posted: 4/24/2012 9:20:12 PM | annoint me
so that i can see
see
beyond
this
incandescent
reality
that surrounds
forsooth
forsake
take back from me
what I thought was mine
its mine
this crazy
reality
I am old
so old
that poetry surrounds me
does it?
does it truly
surround me
forced from birth
to be
trapped in
some soul
escape
it breaks me
it forsakes
me
taking me
to precepts
that
ground
me
into
obscurity
what? | |
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| Introspection
Posted: 4/24/2012 9:26:04 PM | seraphim
perish
within
angelic
host
you
deny
you
will
retry
or
I
will
try
to
understand
what you try to teach
damn
age
doesn't
get any easier
oh Lord
it
only
makes me
recall
what
is
easier | |
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| Introspection
Posted: 4/26/2012 11:26:47 AM | Hey LyricMuse, it has been a long time, but I see that you still have your gift.
I hope that all is going well with you. And try not to be a stranger. | |
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| Stages of Rebirth
Posted: 4/30/2012 4:56:28 PM | Stages of Rebirth
Travel with me through the sanctum
Of clandestine anguish, where the
Soul unravels in layers, revealing
Portraits of a splintered spirit sered
Withered indeed from trails and life
Piercing my person ‘til rebirth
Where I drop’d into a vortex
Dying softly in acidic rain
Naive | |
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| Stages of Rebirth
Posted: 5/1/2012 8:19:51 AM | where i've been hanging out
in the lines of my mind
turning things round
and round....
seeing self
without judgement
seeing one's thoughts
without condemnation
knowing every part
of the human heart
are stepping stones
like diamonds....
the mind shines
through acid rain
or snowflakes
no matter what
no matter who
the thinker....
seeing self
without condemnation
is to feel gratitude
for all of one's living
is the ultimate gift
we can for ourselves
and each other
keep giving | |
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| Stages of Rebirth
Posted: 5/1/2012 9:05:50 AM | more meandering... inspired by Byron Katie
"Who would you be without your story?"
if one's thoughts
are one's torment,
one's torture chamber,
one's dungeon,
we can turn those thoughts around
like mirrors to secret passages
where each thought
can be questioned
to clarify perception....
for to believe
all one thinks
is choosing to suffer
(often using addiction
to act as a buffer)...
yet if we can see
the thoughts we feel painfully
can really be turned round
to set us free
we can be stepping stones
like diamonds
through humanity....
or we can choose blindly
to believe
our imagined reality
and never see
our selves free
and easy
to simply
love
what
is
| |
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| Stages of Rebirth
Posted: 5/1/2012 3:39:52 PM | | WeAre1, your creations are words to muse upon. I thank you for posting them here. | |
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| Stages of Rebirth
Posted: 5/2/2012 5:24:20 PM | Saint Agnes
Sitting in a sanctuary, she invoked
The spirit of Christ, and shed tears
Until her soul swooned and waft
Unto the Kingdom of Divinity
There she sat among the creatures
Of heaven, holding the hand of the
Lamb of Judah, slain in the spirit
Her soul vibrated in Yahweh
She never wished to return, but to
Return she must, preserving secrets
Naive | |
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| Stages of Rebirth
Posted: 5/4/2012 12:51:09 PM | A rocket harpooned my soul
A rocket harpooned my soul.
Wherefore, I walked the city
Asearch for rareness. People
Stared in amazement: “why
Is he chasing after dreams?”
I was led astray. An illusion
Within erupted while the
Psyche was slanted. But
What of the manifestations!
Let me pause, to shed a tear.
I entered the province of
Webs, where spiritual spiders
Crawled within my person
Alerting me to my struggle.
Where was I to run from self!
A rocket harpooned my soul.
As a child, I was hopeful upon
A star, awaiting the tacit
Promise. I crossed the abyss
Of mysteries, opening waves.
Shall I fully return home? Or
Shall I forever dangle over
The threshold of dreams?—
For I’m trying so hard—so
Hard I’m trying!
To be unable to let go, what
Is this observation! To remain
Stuck at an impasse, what is
This mystery. To be impressed
Upon, what is this impression!
Naive | |
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| Introspection
Posted: 5/5/2012 5:12:36 PM | Supernatural meditations
Leave me seagirt in
Emotions, where I listen
To the whispers of eternity
Unto I swivet and swoon
In the spirit
Irrigate my soul with
Dreams and visions, that
I may fathom the carpenter
Indeed, picklock my spirit
That I may touch the relics
Therein | |
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| Introspection
Posted: 5/7/2012 2:37:59 AM | ma you drink to much
so tell me what is enough
beautiful soul smiles at me
drunk is enough
tipsy is battle ground
neither is vibrant
we live underground
the desert holds sands of secrets
A grain
refuses to digest
your memory
I am only alive in remberance
drive of fame
disaster is as you drive by me
today it is a shooter's awesome
misfires of life you hold sacred 
I pray for God
to send Jesus again
I will carry the cross
So you will understand
Your questions are insane | |
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| Introspection
Posted: 5/8/2012 3:38:24 PM | Mother drinks for she fathoms
Existence
I dare not interfere wit fate
I just laugh the sorrow away
Mother is often drunk, ranting
And raving at the mirror
Her soul is a warfield
I’m careful not to trespass
As for secrets, they are the
Mock of me
A nail scrapping the core of
Me, awakening my memory
I bring life to the table, from
My very loins, this is my gift
From God
And I was thankful to indulge
In this blessing
Speaking of Jesus, let it rain
Despite what’s written: “many
Are called, but few are chosen”
I will fathom you when called
I will then understand my
Insanity | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/12/2012 12:57:52 PM | In time pondered
You knew me before the façade.
But I was still struggling for
Identity. We were innocent
Back then. Even our love was pure.
Our motives have changed now. And
Last time we spoke, you deceived me.
I deceived you in return, for you
Met my façade, my representative.
You sensed something was askew
But you were busy, busy lying to me.
We complimented each other’s lies—
Running from invisible mirrors
Lodged in our cerebrals.
Are you still lying to friends?—
Pretending that needles are harmless.
And have you cried for me, as I
Have for you?
We were once so special—so
Innocent—full of inspiration—
Full of life—what happened!
Naive | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/14/2012 3:59:42 PM | Looking Back
It now appears as a fairytale—
The vibrations—the mystic
Enthrallment of it all.
A mystery intoxicated us—
Where we partook of divinity—
Maintaining our distance.
I was assuredly naïve, peering
At life through a foggy lens—
Enlove with the godlikeness
Of existence.
We experienced the majesty
Of Shiloh—the presence of
Something otherworldly—
Vibrating throughout our
Fanes—where we caught a
Glimpse of heaven, such
Precious divinity!
Love has taught me to be
Unafraid of love—despite my
Misconceptions—despite my
Apologetic soul.
With our spirits overloaded—
We are left trekking for
Paradise, losing ourselves in
Prayer, where the mystery has
Always been a cousin of our
Souls.
What are we left to wrestle
With?—or do we wrestle to
Let go? | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/17/2012 2:40:40 PM | Growing Forever
We never knew economic joy
We knew the peace of loneliness
Alone in our ghetto
Proud to fistfight
Proud to carry burdens
But there was hope
The elders preached of it
Even inculcated it into our psyches
To keep us from turning hopeless
When the days were long
And ignorance turned into violence
Many of us turned to art
Painting portraits of blackthorns
Attempting to capture our blackdamp
While many of us were cloudborn
Daydreaming of other cities
Where mothers were sober giants
And fathers lived at home
We had our dreams
Sacred dreams
And although they may never come true
We prayed through Jesus
To sustain us and give us strength
For the nights tested us all
Each home had its secrets
Elders could see it in our eyes
They were swollen with tears
Something was askew
For we lived in silent caves
Unaware of the world
But conscious all the same
And who would paint us free
If such as freedom existed
For we were patient
Suffering our lot
Hoping through Jesus
Weeping to the sky
Awake for our journey home
Naive | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/18/2012 2:37:34 PM | What is it?
It’s more than we realize
It’s a summons
But where do we fit in—
Wrestling with coyotes—
Alike to demons
What do we do with such
Images—images of malaise
And sorrow
We shall go into the caves
Falling through dungeons
Shaking the earth
Love is the source, forever
Webbed, awakening in
Dreams, walking through
Visions, unwebbing our
Deeper selves
Where are we to travel
Alone and misunderstood
Shadowed in the crowd
Hearing the unspoken
When shall we sigh and
Sing, for no one is listening
To the whispers | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/18/2012 8:16:32 PM | Holy sepulchers we are
Our refuge we call home
Longing for redemption
Soaring through the skies
God dwells in us
Vivifying our dead bodies
Thank God for the remedy
Akin to our last discipline
Who do we emulate
To see heaven
To touch truth
Without condemnation
Apostles awaken
Embody this mortal carcass
Show treasures of heaven
For this solitary life
If one must die with zeal
One must live to mourn
Senses ambushed
Undergoing mortal tests
But label me not a friend
Of transgression
Entrapped
Studying tenets | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/19/2012 3:54:56 PM | Remembrance to the moment
The word once circulated
Bethlehem—“holiness is born to us”
Such holiness lives in our temples
Suffocated by our vices
Our virtues must breathe again
Lest we drown existentially
Living aimlessly—desperate for
Light
We are nigh the edge, straining to
Hear the whispers
Divinity has become aloof
Let us fast and pray, lest we fail
And lose our sacred connection
Let us dwell in the village of
Communion, hoping upon a vision
For nighttime has fallen upon us
During daylight hours
How unmovable is our faith?
A beam of light is upon us—
Holiness has returned to bless us
For our efforts
We shall touch the New Jerusalem
Shedding tears of joy, rejoicing over
Our new names
For we shall be known to ourselves
As we our known to God
Our combat has come to an end
The strong of heart has prevailed | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/21/2012 2:23:57 PM | Elevate me, my love.
Elevate me, my love.
Teach mind to touch the stars,
For God’s frequency is upon
Us—we are angels athirst
For wings, eager to fly.
Our vibration is still lively,
Belonging to the heavens,
Sure to rest in our temples—
The bell has rang—it is time
For prayer.
Overwhelmed with energy,
Eager for celestial signs—
The spirit of Christ is near,
For five wounds are etched
In the clouds.
Elijah must have come,
Lodged in our spirits, for a
Soul is plural, occupying all
Of humanity—where have we
Been—a long ways from home.
Elevate me, my love; for to
Muse upon sheer essence,
Shifts the psyche, opening the
Flood gates. There’s Noah
Waving his wand.
Debra has spoken the word,
There will be victory. Tell us
In vision, our Father. Then
Let the vision manifest, for
We are hardpressed for Truth.
Elevate me, my love. | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/23/2012 2:28:40 PM | Attraction
Your vibration has entered me.
Words have cut into our souls.
Our common ground is poetry.
Upon lines, we have melted.
If I were sipping from a flagon
I would ignore the screams of
My soul, but we are drawing
Blood from one another’s cistern.
What does your spirit desire?—
Freefalling to hell, shattering
Glasslakes, full of burning coals
Where we wail to God for comfort.
Where were we when the sun
Fell? We were asleep in our sprits
Making love to the night, unaware
That the bush was burning.
But what is this infatuation. We
Are lightyears apart, upclose in
A diary, with inkstained palms as
Our witness. Is this love?
In vision, your fangs are lodged
In my neck, and your nails are
Jammed in my back, while we
Scream for heaven to awaken in
Our honor. Something of value is
Upon us. But we shall never dine.
We shall only draw blood from
One another’s cistern. | |
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| In time pondered
Posted: 5/30/2012 1:51:25 PM | She would tell herself
Wishing upon a star, she
Perdured injury. “It’s just
A minor cut to the ego”
She would tell herself.
The abuse increased. It
Became physical. “I
Can love him more”
She would tell herself.
He would humiliate her
In public, in front of
Friends. “It’s my fault”
She would tell herself
I watched him as he
Slowly destroyed her.
My young eyes couldn’t
Understand the madness.
Why wouldn’t mother
Bless her future, and
Just walk away? She
Perdured unto death.
The feeling of loving
An abused mother—too
Young to fight her battle
Watching the destruction.
She is now in that other
World, peering into the
Mystery, deep in prayer.
This is my vision for her. | |
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Page
89
of
93 (53, 54, 55, 56, 57, 58, 59, 60, 61, 62, 63, 64, 65, 66, 67, 68, 69, 70, 71, 72, 73, 74, 75, 76, 77, 78, 79, 80, 81, 82, 83, 84, 85, 86, 87, 88, 89, 90, 91, 92, 93)
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