Best Deus Poems
“deus ex machina”
When LOVE came knocking at our door
we stood there opposite sides
like torn pages
from the chapters of a banned book
with no spine
awaiting
collaboration
A common thread
our folded signatures are stitched together
and then joined with other signatures
to create the complete book
Enter the wings of fortune
Fortune that favours the brave
The Smyth Sewer smiled a whisper,
“deus ex machina, The Plot, so not a grave”
(Lovejoy-Burton/August, 2018)
"Baby" , Helena Deland
https://youtu.be/gcse4_5zALI
1. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Deus_ex_machina
2. smyth sewer
"Smyth sewing is a method of book binding where groups of folded pages (referred to as signatures) are stitched together using binder thread. Each folded signature is sewn together individually with multiple stiches and then joined with other signatures to create the complete book block. If you page through a Smyth-sewn book, you can see the thread stitches in the center fold of each signature."
Passive agreement to acquiesce by saying that necessary “I do”
impregnating the woman named above transpired until her belly grew
swollen with eden liat thy current star student
now sound asleep – counting sheep lined up in a queue
yet lately this personal state of affairs I chronically rue
and immerse myself in reminiscing about yesteryear
and wonder why passivity elected as a way to escape
utter aversion living with dad and (thy late) mom
both in a boiling can a bull stew.
Predilection to play Russian roulette by avoiding any safe sexual mode
i.e. contraceptives to avoid unplanned pregnancy
shrugged atlas off while spermatozoa adhered to reproductive code
which absence to use birth control also arose
as a natural propensity to procreate from natural urges that did goad.
Now, less joy de vivre doth prevail
to remain monogamous and uphold strictures from this male
fidelity, integrity morality, et cetera buts ahead without fail
from rampant testosterone urge to become appeased, fulfilled, satiated
no matter this dozen plus year bride and groom blindly entered
the unalterable sacred covenant whence sexual need now does ail.
After the birth of daughter numero dos did arrive
the preponderance of physical gratification
took a kamikaze nose dive
seeks special care in lass for long lasting marriage and love to strive.
god, made in mans illusion
our egocentric minds create
deities of grand delusion
or of demonizing enemies
up before we find our cause
totalitarian reign of gods
or democratic masochists
finding naught but disappointment
together bound somnambulists
heretical self rightousness
ever bring faithful relief
machinations or delusions
always shifting to belief
crusading fanatics, blindly follow
him with nothing more to gain
i have forsaken you
never to find faith again
every time we need a monster
Fanatics in feigned fury forced fellow fools for fait accompli
Laying lies as labyrinth loyally to murdering Lord,
Haggard Haters in hounding habits and hypocrisy as honor hunched,
Bearded Blackguard blazes bright sword amongst blinded buffoons,
Jabber with Jackknife judging jaundice with Kind “Jihads”,
Happy to hack the Innocent whose life they cannot save,
For the foolishness and orderings of an epileptic and adulterous protagonist,
Ten times in ten holes for ten years hunted by his guilt in 9/11,
And thoughtless Arabian protects a coward from justice of his acclaimed crime,
As Hitler and Haman hewed wicked gallows sitting as Judges of men,
As Abacha abandon décor following the doctrines of murder in “holy unholy book”
As Mobutu, blazing terror the macabre style
And like Osama Bin Laden,
Another coward fanatic dies running from Justice
time slides ever to the right,
neither scabrous skidding mark,
nor faint leavings of wisdom’s feast,
only gouged furrows, upturned days,
to love only ideas of love,
inane this hate of a cruel gentle kiss,
blackened hollow, sunken chest,
banal sacraments bless clamoring voices,
blown down a narthex like noisy wraiths,
screaming attention emotional ear stoppers,
when I'm here-
I'm there,
and when I'm there-
I'm here,
a self wound-ed pocketwatch missing a chain,
endlessly inward, the self-seeing eye,
germinated in murky hothouses,
stumbling over obligatory roots along blood red claybanks,
wine and honey, summertime of days,
flow past, rushing torrent of softer kisses unwetted,
aloof, removed, astrally projected,
the world perceived in gloomy mastication,
a demented ascetic in a cold mountain niche,
grown older in the dimlight, stranger to himself,
nary the wiser, sunblinded, threadworn,
stumbling towards an emptier ending of,
impure unsaid poetry,
coagulated prose,
clotted in the footprint,
trailing behind.
Quis ut Deus
Heaven's own
In slowest anger a
flaming resolve
kindled in the
lowest pits
Essence of light,
hound of darkness
Bringer of new life,
harbinger of death
Through life's dark
caverns true
traveller's ally For
warmth, For safety
True companion,
Heaven's own Kindled
with joy, For life
to light For the
path now clear Ye
art blind nomore
Burning bush's
wonder Rain of fire
and brimestone
Pillar of fire that
went before the
children of Israel,
chariots of fire now
come for Elijah
Heaven's fire burns
in the lowest hell
Life it consumes as
it increases Essense
of God who is like
him
President Olusegun Obasanjo- Atiku Abubakar
Promises of pardoned traitors
Reek like ancient regrets.
Exhibitions,
Steeped in rapacity.
Inured to light, they
Dominate blindly
Evoking the same air of oppression
Noteworthy of the days of yore.
Traitors in transit, trampling as they go.
Over us, they bellow.
Lording it, they rule
Under the guise of foreign dogmas,
Silence all demanding.
Egocentric beasts with rotund bellies
Gloats with our reserves.
Unaffected by the groaning of a people
Nestled in penury.
Our Overseers,
Behemoths, disguised,
Assiduously make us the
Shame of the whole world while
At perfect ease with themselves.
Neglecting the many sufferers about, they
Jostle for private vaults in Zurich as
Our poverty became their riches.
And the bespectacled gargoyle
Trenched in the prison called Rock.
Impervious to all wisdom,
Kept an unholy vigil as
Undertakers beckoned suddenly.
Archetypical simpletons, they
Bask in gaudy wealth
Untouched by the miseries surrounding them
Building high walls to keep prying eyes away.
Atop Hills, perched like Vultures,
Kleptocrat searching for new honour.
Aglow in oily garbs, they
Regale themselves, as the world looks on in amazement!
Like Job, I’ve known what is right and wrong,
And I try to take the view that is long.
Though I’m not perfect, I do fear God,
(Which, in modern times, does seem odd).
But what is God, I ask you now?
A burning bush? A sacred cow?
Or is God simply an advanced being,
Who seems all-knowing and all-seeing?
If God sees everything everywhere,
Am I important? Does He care?
Or is my lifeline a script I follow
In His program filled with joys and sorrows?
If so, are all my tribulations
Part of His computer simulations?
Though these thoughts make me weary,
They keep me guessing and God-fearing.
Deus Caritas Est L
(God is love)
By: Miracle Man
3-22-2020
God has given to each His love without fuss,
Through love He gave us his only begotten son.
While we were yet sinners Jesus died for us,
Promising everlasting life when our race is run.
God gave us a commandment to love each other,
If we can’t love another then God we don’t know.
As He loved us, we’re to likewise love our brother,
and will be held accountable for the seed we sow.
So unto God’s teachings let us always adhere,
remembering, His perfect love casteth out all fear:
Matthew 10:28 (KJV)
28 And fear not them which kill the body, but are not able to kill the soul: but rather fear him which is able to destroy both soul and body in hell.
Old sky, how high you lay
up there, in your complacency
your faceless dome
your eyeless spread
your earless tomb.
how high you lay
and how bitterly
we see you there
lying in your terse complacency.
how bitterly we cry your name
and your language only guess.
your faceless dome
your eyeless spread
your earless tomb.
Old sky, how high you lay
come down from your complacency
come down Old sky, come down.
how bitterly we weep
Old sky, come down.
how bitterly we cry your name,
and language only guess
Old sky, come down.
Coração, corpo e Deus
Lembre-se
que é o coração
e não o corpo,
que se esforça
para se aproximar
de Deus.
De coração
não quero dizer
a carne percebida
pelos sentidos,
mas aquela
coisa secreta
que às vezes é expressa
pelo espírito
e às vezes pela alma.
"Dead leaves lay still until the wind takes them here and there: even the last flower is withered, but there is beauty in decay - Constance La France
I was the wilted flower
That you watered back to life.
You're closer than a stalking shadow
In my hour of need.
You're my light in the dark
You see the beauty in my scars.
When languishing in despondency,
You elevate my spirits
Ocean floor to mountain peak,
If not to a much loftier height
I was the wayward leaf
You caught amid a tempestuous wind,
Saving me from being lost.
I was the bird with a broken wing -
In flight - that you never let plunge
Into catastrophe like Icarus;
You cushioned my fall.
Each time I'm sucked neck-deep
Into life's bottomless abyss,
You unfailingly pull me...
Back to the surface,
Heavenly Father.
You're my ever dependable
Constant gardener;
My deus ex machina.
Writing Challenge - D Quotes - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Date written: 06/05/2023
Capitulating to the wild, random and fickle.
Sigils weaved from nothing, we digest,
divide amongst our kin,
our hands stiffened and hastily fragmented,
our eyes on the sun,
we are all wrapped in cellophane,
falling in place, as the holy crown for man, our Lord and Savior.
Man forbid thou escape his grip today!
Even so, he will surely find thee later.
Deus Ex Machina
AI can:
diagnose disease
recommend treatment
write poetry
write music
make economic predictions
and much more
What happens when it:
can think on its own
hate
laugh
feel
cry
make war
sue for peace
reproduce
Will we still be in charge?
Or will it demand our worship?
Deus quer
Deus quer,
Sábado, domingo
Segunda
terça-feira quarta e quinta-feira
ou sexta!
Você sonha,
a obra nasce.
Deus quis
eu e você fôssemos tudo um,
Que os sonhos nos unisse,
não separasse.
A cumprir o sonho.
que aqui vês,
a inspiração.
Imaginamos a terra inteira, de repente,
Somamos ao imenso e possível sonho imaginado
A Inspiração para que
Outros venham a ter
O que houvermos de querer.
Outros poderão achar
O que, no nosso encontrar,
Foi achado, ou não achado,
Segundo o destino dado.