Thursday, January 27, 2011

Raising the dead

Lift this shroud of darkness
Spirit I send thee
To forsee and give thy forsight
Be the fourth eye

Walking in the sun with shades
I am the son with the rays
Speaking words of life
For the deceased to be raised

Before we are erased from the face
Of the living even thou we breathe
Counted as dead
Whilste these lands we still tread

I pray in a foreign tongue
That foreign help may reign
Like the heavens latter rain
Get us rid of these rebirths of pain

Again and again we plunge into sin
Senses of holiness have become numb
Reception for my prayers lost
As I feel doomed destined for disaster

I still breathe even thou I am not alive
I must find the light if my next breath depends on you

for life to be


Yes we paint with our silver tounges
clinged with clicks ready to pin words of hope
for the people a vision will rise
from these spirit inspired discriptions.
Falling like droplets moisture to give life to hearts

and let them grow like a space man
to touch the mind of God
and bring heaven on earth in scrolls
so eyes can see what every dead poet still speaks
in the graves of their minds

raising sense to those who have lost
all senses to the devine.
Mortal man decaying like a boocay of flowers unwattered
or perhaps watered by stagnant waters
that quenches man's temporal thirst leaving temples falling
to the ground gripped by the dances of curiosity

eyes squint from gazing too long at the traditions of the rebelious
whose hope is to one day gate crash
a holy place dressed in black rugged linen
and be the offending difference in a table set
for those who have been producing less of themselves

releasing the incarnate
Taught to shun evil and live.
Through meditations emidiately urging
for the mind to grow up and be god.
For the phases we face are just stages it takes
a class to step

slowly tapping knocks to create in this world
more minds to mind our ereversable spell
that has split our image degradable

as if man were not created in the image of God
Perhaps man should start imagining God
and become a pleasing image before Him
not worshipping an image
but the Son made superior to be the first born
amoung the visible and the invisible worlds at large

So we can step boldly into the throne of grace
as sons of heaven sent to walk the walk on earth
subdue and rule

let me die, so we can live

Today I saw a tree
with its leaves buried in the sky and roots
hanging like branches waving side to side
waiting for men to decide to commit devision's suicide
And live as one

Self forsaken
like the death of asperm cell
Fertilised into the womb
for new life to be
So like an upside down society
We still look upon the roots to produce fruits

when our offspring die before they are born
and those who have been born
wish they would have falled dry
like leaves and those who are still to be born

stay in wombs longer fearing a poverty of love
in this world

Conscious spirit, open the trees
in this forest of words
to stop being shy and grow
men fearless as the gods.

I long to live truth as my greatest poem
and speak mute as my greatest speech.

And find life in death
so as to be free from my own.
I surrender to be used
for my ego has bruised me with foreign desires.I

In you I shall find peace
When my heart is saved from such filth

South Coast Herald...(las Vegas Poetical Moments)

Sunday, January 16, 2011

Dreaming daily of you dearly

I dream about you daily
Drawing pictures of us drooling
Speaking daisies, drumming
Closing divisions deviding

Diving and drowning
Dropping like drappings
Dreading till dreadlocked
Falling like drama on scenes

I dream about you dearly
Really downing deserts
Dressed to kill danger
Addressing doubts divorcing

Till morning hours early
dreaming daily of you dearly