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JR Rhine Dec 2015
I felt God creep onto my shoulder
worming up my spine
snaking across my shoulder blade
before slithering and burrowing
into my shoulder

perched like a Gothic cemented gargoyle,
whispering adages like a scratched CD
I felt each repeat with a wince in the breach
of melody.

I try to take in my brother's words
with my full attention
but God is a gargoyle
perched upon my shoulder.

After awhile,
the weight becomes unbearable
and I'm wondering where Lucifer is
so to even the tension

but the wretched old gargoyle
sinks in ever deeper
and his voice now rises
from a hush to a raspy mutter.

He gargles the truth like he's
spitting out bloodied gravel
teeth cracked and tongue blackened
from the dirt and grime so caked

around his crusty lips twisting
rhyme and reason but I'm really trying
to listen to my sister tell her story
but God is a scornful old gargoyle
perched upon my shoulder.

His voice now rises from
a murmur to a shout
as fire and brimstone burst from
his foaming mouth

like a southern preacher
red-faced
saliva-stained corners of lips
snarling brandishing fangs

gnashing of coarsened tongue
whip crack snapping my thoughts
in
half
pouring dicta down the back

of my throat feeling
like mucus dripping slowly
preventing one from swallowing easily.
Adam's apple dances like a walk

across burning coals blindfolded--
desperate to focus, I lean in and
nod appropriately
to my good friend

ever hushed but in full confidence
of me as a listener and a confider
but God is a red-faced bespittled
Gargoyle perched upon my frail shoulder.

A shout now gives way to a shrill scream
as the behemoth grips the outer ridges
of my ears, sticks his head in
my ear canal and with a noise

travelling from ***** to stomach to chest
to throat and through the gaping mouth,
a deafening bellow penetrates my eardrums
as God curses me and my friend

to eternal damnation
for listening to such sinful acts
whilst holding "truth"
in my mind

like a forgotten check in the back pocket
of jeans in the rinse cycle at the laundromat
God, with jagged nails digging into cartilage
pulls wider sticks head in deeper

calls me a hypocrite,
and my friend:

******, ****, ******, liar,
cheater, blasphemer, drunk, *******,
adulterer, murderer, idolater, Democrat

unlovable.

I feel a tear reach the corner of my eye,
not because of a heart broken
for my friend's pain,
but because of the agony within

the stoop built of mortal flesh and bone
breaking down under the weight of
a vehement gargoyle claiming to be God
perched on my brittle shoulder.

The creature: abdominous, archaic,
feeding off ancient histories
embedded within fathers and sons
the passing of the torch obligatorily
  
handed down to every child
a Christmas present in the gleam of a golden cross (calf)
Mother and Father's heads lean in
with a smile stretched across their faces

watching as a curious youth
admires with awe
a shiny slender creature
bug-eyed

pearly teeth
looking up in fascination
crawls up onto your shoulder
at once so novel

but now you break down.

Standing up, you grab the ghastly gargoyle
around the waist--
he squirms and writhes
in your grip, hissing and spitting

its sick venom in your eye--
the creature living no longer
with childlike contempt
but with eyes opened to

its hatred and malice
you fling the beast so vile
from your presence
casting it into oblivion

you shed the weight
of such evil
and you sit down
to finally hear of your kinfolk's plight.

Wallowing in the throes of its host's absence,
the parasitic quadruped seeks behind the darkness
its next meal of mortal flesh and blood
amongst shadow armies of death: ravenous, cunning.
Legion.
My Jesus cannot be found in American Christianity, or in the history books of those who carried on the "White Man's Burden" in God's name, but he can be found amidst it all: weeping with the broken, loving the loveless, and bringing hope to the hopeless.
Hanna Sep 2017
My tears maybe shallow, but at least I try
To catch them all, or until they dry
My mind is fuzzy, I see time fly
But there are just times that I can't help but cry.

It's really so odd how everything changes
From bestfriends to enemies, maybe even strangers
How heartbreaking to look, but more so to feel
At the end you'll just stop, hoping, wishing that it isn't real.

I told you I didn't care, that it was no big deal
But **** did it hurt, when I thought it was real
Maybe I really did like you, from the very beginning
I just didn't want to say that you consumed my whole being.

You were my best friend, my private confider
I gave you my trust, but I guess you didn't care
Girls are really so complicated, it just had to be embraced
I thought we were happy, but you just said otherwise, by walking away
There once lived a gal whos name was Eve
she was married to a man named Steve
she owned a pet spider
that she called slow Rider
quite often he slept inside her sleeve      

Brushing their toes as he crawled aside
there were so many places to hide
inside her white bonnet
without fuss or a fret  
Spider-Rider spun dreams made of hyde

There once lived a spider named Rider
so great as a friend and confider
night was so much brighter
when he slept beside her
together they slept all the wiser

By: Mystic Rose
James LR Jun 2018
A tear is a glassy reminder
Of memories and dreams
A tear is a hot angry whisper
Things must not be as they seem
A tear is a heart-broken beggar
Providing a heart-broken scream
A tear is a gentle confider
Reminding us life isn't clean
A tear is the final decider
This is the way things have to be.
5 stages of grief :)
Paper
A confider
A confinement
A trap
A relief
Beautiful
Noise
Silence
Screaming
Gasping for breath
Sitting quietly on a page
Flutters in the wind
So much, on so little
Tell it your secrets
It won't betray you
It won’t comfort you
Share with the world
Anonymous, if you want
It wont tell
It will be silent
Heartbreak, relief, sadness, love
On a weightless page
An airplane
A boat
A butterfly
paper
if you need a protector
gladly, i would take that role
provider, confider, supplier
of everything that could supplement
anything you felt was missing
give up my dreams
just to see yours
i can take a backseat for a while
so you can soar
SP Welp Sep 16
Do not love,
Half lover

Do not preach,
Orator
Preaching half truths

Do not dream,
Get by-er
Dreaming half dreams

Do not work,
Ease-seeker
Working half heartedly

And when around you;
Half dreamers, and half preachers, and half workers

Do not succumb

Do not conform

Do not become


Do not seek,
O contented one
Seeking to be different

Do not aspire,
O common one
Aspiring to be remembered

Do not pretend,
O masked one
Pretending to be what you’re not

And when around you;
Contented ones, and ordinary ones, and masked ones

Do not conflate

Do not adopt

Do not plate


Do not achieve,
Self-obsessor
Achieving,
Then justifying

Do not think,
Deluder
Thinking,
Then fooling

Do not write,
Flaunter
Writing,
Then showing

And when around you;
Self-obsessors and deluders and flaunters

Do not get wooed nor woo

Do not rationalize

Do not do


Do not confide,
Manipulator
Confiding half-thoughts

Do not judge,
O fragile one
Judging, to be righteous

Do not promise,
Oathbreaker
Promising,
Then go forgetting

Do not undermine
When within-
You praise

Do not boast honesty
When you hide so
Nor of the latter
For that is not any better

And when in you;

A confider and manipulator
A judging one,
and a fragile one
A promiser and oathbreaker
An undermining one,
and a praising one
A truthful one, and a hider

You find,
Then-

Do not confide,
Only to then manipulate

Do not judge,
Only to then be fragile

Do not promise,
Only to then,
Oath-break

Do not undermine,
Only to then,
Yourself praise

Do not hide,
Only to then, of it, be honest


Choose

Half-lover
This is the 2nd poem I have ever written and is inpired from Khalil Gibran's "Do not love, half lovers" poem (Although I have not read it, I only know of the first line). I didnt read it more because i didnt want it to influence me too much while writing this.
P.S: The whole poem is just me talking to myself.

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