Tag Archives: religion

supPRESSme

sit and listen

toes just touching

coloured light falling

across your little knees

now on the ground

little knees…..

up

kneel

sit

stand

sing

down

knees

eyes closed

open

day by day

word by word

you are tied to Him

you are cloaked in His magic

bored until broken

left hand heavy

right hand floating free

they feed you concepts

and His body

they spoon you visions

and His blood

they marry you to martyrdom

tugging away at your thickening thread of misunderstanding

until small and wishing

you take over the litany

and begin to seek burning fingers of your own

desperate to bleed

for Him

charred scars

winding tighter

soft skin stinging

you yearn for the searing pleasures of sacrifice

you are chastised

whipped

held under water

you are braced against marble

shoulders crushed by shuffling women hidden in dark tents

they thrust you forward into hot boxes that stink of wood and cock

faceless men reel sins from your lips

securing you

touching places in you that long for an upturned mouth

a nod from the God head

my father

because of this love my father didn’t look at me

my father wouldn’t touch me

but Father Tom could….

father tom

the inflictors

kiss you

the inflictors

offer you

the inflictors

pray for you

confuse you

want you

suppress you

compress you

a glowing sinker

a heavy hot fuck

rapid

powerful

spinning

in your body

forcing through the narrow channels of your humanity

desperate for release from His invisible grip…..

 

I AM

holding on to the end of the line with my sweet ripping mouth

screaming his name

gasping on the hook

just in case

just in case

just in case

it

was

all

true

SONY DSC

would you like to see more art? www.artofkundalini.com

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

untainted star

honest lines draw across her skin

but he can’t see with blood in his mouth

transmission continues

I read your code

pegged loosely

whipping in the breeze

making sin out of nothing

he stared at her from the cross

remain pure

she turned around and tapped her red heels three times

I don’t belong

I lost the virtuous thought I had a moment ago, I don’t have what it takes….

remain uninvolved then

he pointed his pointy finger

be clean

this glass is transparent, look through that, no good can come from the rose one

the rosey is pretentious

neither safe nor guiltless

beware of stains

stand tall

be upright he said shaking his bleeding head…

your hole has been pricked hasn’t it

no longer above suspicion

your female oozes from you

chastity was never your middle name

this is a CRIME

it is done

generations back by old men in sheets

and still you try so hard to live an exemplary life against ALL oddities

faultless free immaculate impeccable

you

he ate her with his eyes

resting floating bobbing in her own

……yes your pristine eyes, they fooled me

he stepped down one foot bearing 6 inch nail

I love your righteous gaze it spreads across my skin like wilderness

sinless exploration starts here

spotless fingertips prying into raw spaces following the light

to unblemished hopefulness

to incorruptible beginnings

to innoffensive life

that’s what you saw

that’s what he wanted

the truth

the unsullied

unimpeachable

tiny shine of untainted star

P1070988

more art at http://www.artofkundalini.com

Nowhere Man

 

the inky swirling

curling

cracking paper white

braided

silver beard

booming tone

required

a warsome

bloody

statement

a pompous fretful poem

the speckled chaos counting

dimensions

un K NOW n

footprints in the sand

stacks of golden thrones

lots of weight behind the blind…..

Nowhere man

floats home.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The Missionary

 

The skeptic, exiled early to a Willow tree.

And now silver scales are held aloft,

a lopsided trophy, sinking under dark art and muddy-bellied fear.

Trembling psalms are heavy on liver and shoulders.

He is crumpled under stone, glazed in grave confusion,

dictating, amplifying, distance between,

blood                      and                    light.

His shackles are tight, delivering pain without a (question) mark.

Projection is a bullet to receptive cells and feathers fall softly on sad feet.

The mission: vulgar uncertainty, banshee panic, whiskey driven noise.

Flesh is his generator, he see’s only dirty fingers, blind to the sky.