[x]

4. From Omphalos and Into the War Zone

The arachnid turned, and receded to the peak of the structure,
The creatures stood as still as the trees,
And soon, they too did retreat back to whence they came in the woods.
~
A powerful gust came to my shoulders,
And at a drumming pace did it come from above…
My ears then beheld in amazement, the beating wings.
~
The numbers were the sort that would leave you speechless,
Endless were the children of Creation, loyal to a dying & holy breath,
Swooping down, as their passing pulled me back towards the edge.
~
Here began my free fall from Omphalos and into the War Zone.
Past the maze which I once did tread, descending the mountain

5. The End is No End

Never had I beheld such a morbid sight,
Even after all that had penetrated my vision,
And pierced the very innocence of my soul.
~
Before stood the arisen Gates of Hades,
And but a few steps was I from the source of opposition.
My knees then met the soil and ash that laid below me.
~
The eyes that had before surrounded me,
Came to once more encircle me…
I knew not the reason, nor did my curiosity overcome my fear.
~
The drums of my ears felt nothing but a deafening ring,
And every hair arose on the flesh of my arm in alarm.
A familiar presence came from behind me.
~
I turned my eyes to the Hooded Figure that had bestowed upon

2. Maze Upon The Mountain

Around my throat pulled the rugged noose,
tighter with every upward movement...
Though beheld I chains of gold as a harness,
inching me along the way up.
~
I scaled the mountain of my own,
whilst I tread in its vertical labyrinth...
To my back, a mirror follows my every move,
the constant reminder of every falter.
~
From above comes down an ever flowing stream,
washing clean from me the blood, sweat, and tears.
Such is the waters of life that I chose to follow,
as the overflow my thirst and tired limbs.
~
At my feet, the heat of a million fires,
giving rise to the sulfuric smell of Rock Bottom...
Where from and down the rugge

Splendid Ascertainment

Long did I hold patience for this to come,
and the cliché cupid had at last found me.

As wherein our lips meet,
this living system of mine reminisces.

What memories have remained
in my forgetful storage continue

to serve my jaw the smiles
that you so know and adore...

For whatever reason, you chose me,
and pray I that God had a hand.

Though I deserve not a thing,
I receive beyond the expectations of my prayers.

Long did I await your arrival,
And I don't believe you were a second too soon.

Still Waters Beyond the Storm

It is above and beyond
the realm where soar the children
of my ever undying Lord.

My mind is forever enraptured
by the very thoughts...
the concepts that are so limitless.

God what glory is to be beheld!
Lead me by still waters my Lord,
Beyond the storms of this wretched world.

Pray I that my intrigue
is never felt as a thorn in Heaven's walls,
as my only wish bring true wisdom home.

Thou art my God,
ascended and surrounding,
forever the greatest of praise goes to you.

From my lips come prayer,
From my hands comes worship,
From my heart comes faith.

Channel my voice through, O'abounding angels!
Though my thoughts often pla

The Subconscious Strive

Challenge this opposition before you,
as the very Kingdom of Heaven is at your back.
What know you of the sight of victory,
should you not even attempt to seek it out?

Pull your head out and swallow the sand.
kick up the dust beneath the liquid layer,
swim against the tide, ascend and ride the wind,
Journey only forward, beyond the grasp of defeat.

Take us beyond the firefight,
to the brittle outskirts,
upon the horizon,
where lies our origin.

Within memory is our future,
where made easy
is the heavier weight of the burden.
Plant the seeds for the new battlefield.

Make it our own, by conquer, by incline.
Push forward through the storm,
th

Reflective Argument

Have you looked into the shattered mirror,
to find the subject of your exasperation?
Accursed hypocrites of the heathen reign,
"Make them suffer for the sins of their ancestors!"
What know you of history's bloody course?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
Look in the mirror of this worlds memory,
let the record show that which is yours,
the folly, the choking arguments.
Evidence is all you have,
just and yet, the other term, of faith...
Yet again and again,
abased, abashed, by my shear hatred for you all,
Of what do you know in regards to faith?
Not a thing, not a damn thing.
You walk hand in hand with
the blind, deaf & dumb
who

Deep in the Heart of Me

The only time I'll ever lie is when I say I've lied before.
The only time I'll ever cheat is when it's at our own little games.
The only time I'll ever hate something to do with you is at the times that I can't see or be with you.

Even in death, I'd never leave your side,
just like in life where we've been inseparable.
No words nor acts will hold off our hearts, never on my watch.

The only time I'll ever leave is when you tell me go away,
The only time I'll ever cry is when our connection shares the tears,
The only time I'll ever walk away is when it's to bring you back a bigger heart of mine.

This horizon you've brought to my eyes is unli

The Changing Tide

The era is now passed through which I lived and favored,
and my patience then packs its bags for hiatus,
with which to remind me that perhaps
brighter days lie in sunny hammocks ahead.

Here and alas lays the road to that sunny setting,
upon which I walk and tread the changing tide.
The next item on the list of Fates agenda and her passionate affair with time...
the seconds will carry on like the beats of my undying heart.

The fire that burns in my eyes, through which I see is only assuaged
by the tears they produce...
the tears I produce in my longing for some peace of some sort.
Yet those tears shall only accompany the sweat of my

By Hatred My Ode

The largest thorn of the thicket comes constant to my side...
My attempts to remove have only placed in through my hand.
My prayers are weakened as I am bound by pain.
By hatred my ode to you, is but a psalm to them all...
All whom can relate...all whom can hate.

Find me, my grace! Lest you hide from my dark passenger,
The horned monkey on my back...
Be it that my words climb and crawl from dark crevices
They come only to be held at bay.
My words howl for action.

Yet my threats are empty until I fulfill them.
It is the although and now that make them into promises.
Come close so I may place one of your thorns in your brittle vein

1. Foul Calamity To Filthy Mind

The widow carried the glass of blood on her back,
up the climb of the standing hairs upon my arm...
Her stare was without emotion,
but all eyes were on me with each and every step.
~
My hope was in my half empty glass,
yet the widows glass was always filled with blood,
every drop from every venomous bite...
One by one, her steps draw closer to my pounding heart.
~
She burrows beneath my sleeve,
the receding image of her legs,
is enough to overtake my heart...
the suspense alone ravages my pulse.
~
What bitter calamity had overtaken the life through my veins,
by God, such a fear building the arctic sweat about my flesh.
I can

Fight or Flight In the Presence of Logic.

Find your common ground of shedding blood
In the far lands of Else Where,
For here is not the place where bodies should
Fall just short of their own sweat and tears.
It is fear that is the beast you so portray,
And an agenda so immorally laced with false teachings.
Here lies the home, once ancient and grown,
Now rubble in the growing pile
Of humanities excrement.
Its epitaph shall read nothing,
For no words can be written
by the lack of knowledge per this land....
Look your land in its dying eyes,
Listen to its final breaths...
The billowing sands that blow
Erosion into its elderly face.
make your way to the place in which

The Book of Excerpts: Creed of The Patrons

Blessed my guides,
Governed by our King.
His children know my purpose,
just as he upon his throne.
Sweet clarity do I seek,
But of course patience is key,
as by faith do I live, as this
nothing but mortal being.
To only them and our Father,
do I loyally obey.
Behold, for I am the left hand of God,
and I will fear no evil.

Made of What We Are.

Endlessly in the end,
shall I let flow the passion.
Our own, the love undying
to the very cadence of Heaven's joy.

This paradise discovered,
that when my heart speaks of you,
with a burning passion,
that right away I write away.

Thank you God, for Anael's gift...
This now love from afar,
to this portrait of perfection
That to I shall return....

To this, my angelic fire,
I am bound forevermore,
by unbreakable vows
to that true sense of belonging...

For this living gift,
Shall I be home in a heartbeat,
to fulfill that elated kiss,
To glorify her in full.

Deserving of Nothing

My endless imperfections
shout to the very core of my soul,
Beating away at my humility,
To bare reminder
that I do not deserve you
in the slightest...
Grace is your very essence,
as you embody that which is perfection.
Whereas my rush
to find the flaws of my name,
You tell it tales true,
of the feelings you hold.
Abnormal is my persona,
and infinite apologies are due,
Many thanks, just as much,
are in order...
To God, to you....
Beauty be what has enraptured my heart
for the eternal hour at hand,
You and only you are the whom
that I most desire,But never deserve.

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A Walk With The Poet-Canto 3

We walked onward,
Into a forest dark and nearby.
without lacking of hesitation.

Forward and never looking back
did my curiosity take me
Unto a realm of more woe

"This place", Asked I
did feet was walk these forlorn woods?"
He halted, gazing onward...

His silence to my discord,
gave answer to my question...
And his feet carried on.

"These woods were the resting place of my misery.
Alone and like you." stated he to my ears.
Though places are kindred to my own,

Yours is the journey that shall marked with your name,
Descending first into the retribution of your humanity.
Know you shall, the lamentations of all souls you find."

H

Running On Fumes

Exhaustion, Oh my limbs, my body whole.
What they feel that my heart does not.
I just wish to return to my place of slumber,
where what is dreamt came make me regret.
The cold sweat is the moment I awaken...
Knowing nothing, and remembering little.

Hunger, my belly for fulfillment so sweet...
The theory behind so many burdens,
the many weights on these weary shoulders,
That I have ever called my own.
And now my knees are my feet,
covered with the hoof prints of a dead horse.

Tell me God, the Creator in a Kingdom his own...
Tell me of my purpose in the method you wish...
Tell me once more if not a million times...
As for this al

A Walk With the Poet- Canto 2- The Ink of Exile

From behind me came voice and word...
Both new, and friendly to my ears.
In a sense did I now feel safe presence.

"A descendant of Cerberus was he...
So vile are those beasts.
Though shall you fear not, as you are protected."

I turned to find, through a doorway
bursting through with light in abundance...
The poet of Florence, in form of spirit.

Dressed the white and red of his portraits.
With upon his head, a crown of leaves,
Whose veins were black with ink.

"Poet before me, I beseech from thee, answers,
For once I had many, and now I have none!
Assist me, as I lost more than ever."

My head hung in shame,
like some criminal on

A Walk With the Poet- Canto I(Pilot)

Still and standing was I,
at the middle of my journey.
Lost between the right and the wrong.

Forgetful as to the actions that
brought me to such a place as this...
The outskirts of some abandon ruin,

External, the metropolis
from which I had come.
Above me the ruins stood,

looking down upon me...
Upon the desolation in my eyes
which did stare.

What amount of distraught came to me!
I knew no amount of control in this place.
An occurrence so similar to some sort of nightmare.

To what extent is this my current reality?
To what cause is the reason behind,
my presence within these shambles of a past.

At the entrance to my ears,

Three In One

Brutal, the world in which I dwell,
unmatched by the realms of Hell so many.
Yet alone I tread not,
as I have arisen through Gaia,
Like many before me.
For every blade of grass pierces through,
with a unique edge,
and mine is the edge of ambition.

Vicious, my way, my method, my path...
and how atrocious is the judgment from all around?
To my ears the words of dull tongued fools,
prattling their paths to a demonic grasp.
I am no better than those like me,
and before me...but I tread the higher ground...
simply to avoid the filth below...
Unsurpassed in my arrogance...

Savage, the very applied intellect I hold so dear...
My sen

Lord of the Flies

And how divine,
this so sacred line,
between the fly and the swine,
as to live without a spine.
two faced, two timing and far too fine.

To be so astute, in aspect of appearance
and what lack of cerebral activity there is!
For my homily, may the correct allegory be chosen.
As heterodox to your methods are my own.
A metaphor to obliterate your way of life.

The tribal drums beat out the endless protests,
both boar and bug, whose words are but useless jest.
Fire up the mob, to run their way to the empty trough.
Where they find desolation to add to their famine.
Brittle, they scream in the agony the subltely anticipated.

I am abject

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Submitted: November 30, 2012
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Sons and Daughters of The Revolution

by ~GrubbsWriting, Nov 30, 2012, 8:37:42 PM
Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Traditional Fixed Forms

A Hierarchy lost in translation,
laid out before us, but so forgotten.
Lord forgive us our folly,
Such great division,
for reasons many.
To my human eyes,
the scorching history,
wayward amid all anarchy.
Fractions to masses,
to lead and wage war.
The eternal struggle,
to which we are oblivious,
but so highly involved.
Lord forgive me,
as I fear my efforts are in vain.

Sons and Daughters of The Revolutionby ~GrubbsWriting

Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Traditional Fixed Forms

The Book of Clarification. This poem concerns our relation to the Angelic & Demonic Hierarchies. We need to learn and come to know them much better in order to understand why certain things happen the way that they do.

Picture Citation: [link]

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~AngelWorks24 Dec 2, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

nice pic

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~DARK-I-GRAPHICS Dec 1, 2012 Hobbyist General Artist

I don't know much about poetry but I most definetly like the picture place holder.

~Aidal Dec 1, 2012 Professional General Artist

hello where can i get the large of this image

~Sarasalandkittens Dec 1, 2012 Hobbyist Artist

Beautiful.

~AlanusRex Dec 1, 2012 Professional General Artist

Beautiful picture.

*PookiePony Dec 1, 2012 Student General Artist

Keep fighting the good fight. There are many hierarchies that, you're right, we are mainly unaware of. Once you realize that you are affected far more than you think you are, and are in the middle of a war, you're eyes do open. Nice work.

~Skullkid43 Dec 1, 2012

Beautiful...

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*igreeny Dec 1, 2012

nice image

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Sons and Daughters of The Revolution

Sons and Daughters of The Revolutionby ~GrubbsWriting

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