untitled

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untitled


Passion makes poison from our pain
like plants take moisture from the rain
incense and flashes
candles and wax and
every little droplet begs the same
This sunrise we see the clouds turn red
as you crown a rainbow around my head
So label all these trinkets
sell them in my name
Bury them in our slumber garden
and clear the way for blame
Your father dances his Christian dance
But pagans like to blame
And if by chance your heart is black
I'll love you all the same
You ache smiles in these separate scriptures
and yet cast me in your flood
I thought that I could make the difference
by soaking in the sun
Babys cry
Angels fly
in innocence of God
If you cant take your halo back
I'll greet you in the mud
In darkness we feel the waves crash white
You scream for the darkness, I whisper for light

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am2anangel commented on untitled

11-04-2010

this piece has an excellent perspective and viewpoint although marked as dark it portrays an interesting view on religion. well done. -Tonya

Poetry is either something that lives like fire inside you or else it is nothing, an empty formalized bore around which pedants can endlessly drone their notes and explanations.

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debombis’s Poems (4)

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