Best Exorcise Poems
Opulent the full moon glowed
Flooding light on a rocky road;
Casting down his gauzy veil
Luminescent to probe the pale.
Misty soft the shadows went
Into the secret sacrement;
Where evil meets the occult tryst
Of darkness dressed in amethyst
Where enchantments live to cast a spell
Within the fires that burn in hell.
Stealthy, sly the spirits tread
Through muted memories of the dead
To thrust their trance without disgrace
And exorcise the devil's trace.
Where he leads are feet to follow
Through the graves that fill the hollow
Then his key unlocks the door
To find that love lives nevermore
Fanning life's hot fleeting fires
In hearts filled with lost desires.
Midnight casts its cloudy beams
Smudging all the tarnished dreams
Leading each by knowing hand
Knowing none will understand;
And all who lay in soft beds sleeping
Opened eyes perplexed with weeping;
Each alone with poison's pain
That filled the night with tears of rain
And through it all there hangs aloft
The cunning moon so velvet soft.
I noticed her limp immediately
when she sat next to me on the bench
in the park outside of the Prado.
I inquired about her deep brown eyes
behind her octagonal glasses
that looked sad and defeated.
“I was robbed here yesterday,
during siesta,” she said.
“Two men with knives
jumped out from the bushes.”
She was Finnish and her trip to Spain
had to be cut short
because of the incident.
For a moment, I wondered,
but that didn’t stop me from asking
her if I could buy her a cup of coffee.
Minna looked tall and slender
in black jeans and matching leather boots
and her hair billowed while she hobbled
as we walked to a nearby café.
We chatted about our countries
over coffee and chocolate;
I told her about Brooklyn and baseball
and she talked of a girl’s life in Helsinki.
When our cups were empty
we drank cold Spanish lagers
under the café’s awning
and we laughed and connected
and Minna seemed to forget about
the previous day’s terrible afternoon
with each cool sip.
I trusted her true and dusky eyes
and asked her if I could lend her some cash.
“You can mail me a check
when you get home,” I said,
but Minna shook her head.
“At least take some pesatas to get
you through the day,” I added.
I reached for my wallet,
but she touched my knee.
She smiled faintly and brushed her hair
out of her face.
“There is something you can do,” she said.
“I don’t want to leave Madrid
with a bad taste in my mouth.
Can you walk with me
past where I was robbed yesterday?”
My guard went up again and I thought,
for a shameful moment,
that this was part of her plan.
I reluctantly agreed to help Minna
exorcise the thievish bad vibes
and we walked back to the spot of the offense.
She held my hand and I half-expected
a knife-wielding duo
to spring from the shrubbery,
but there was nothing except
for the sleepy midday Spanish sun
poking itself through the canopy of trees.
“Do you feel better?” I asked
as we returned to the bench
in front of the Prado.
She didn’t say anything,
but held my hand tighter.
Love's light beams from the hearts and souls of Man
but His insecurities shade its glow.
And in shadows, hate and bigotry grow;
though Man's conscience interjects when it can.
But, like a child, He fears the bogeyman;
facing repercussions, He lets hope go.
Scared of storms, He revels in the rainbow;
convincing Himself that it is God's plan.
Evil overshadows the light of good;
anonymity merges with the dark.
And accepting truths, tethered to rumors,
we mesh with the system as robots would.
Yet, the love in Man needs only a spark,
to exorcise fear's cancerous tumors.
the silver starlight embroidered the murmurs of that river
and he allowed himself to drown within the scent of ripe pears
flooding the air around him…
and while inhaling, he almost felt the threads of the past
knotting themselves in his chest,
memories hidden within the sweetness of the fragrance,
dizzying him like a strong wine…
he kept his breath for a moment…
‘you cannot hold time still…come on…exhale’,
he heard a voice inside him,
and he pushed the air out almost by force,
as if trying in the same time to exorcise his soul
of the remains of what-had-been-and-was-no-more…
‘too much dust in the air tonight’, he told himself,
and in the same moment he killed in the corner of his eye
the shadow of an almost born tear …
Don't let them see us
tremble! – it is what
they want. Don't let
them drink our tears of
sorrow...it will prompt
them to create more
heartbreak tomorrow. let
them hear, loud and clear,
of our definitive resolve –
we will not be divided
and scattered – these
Marxist, racist scum,
will also pay, here on earth,
long before they reach the
fires of hell....
(Lunatics With Power)
Soros, and his sponsoring
of Marxist, soulless DA's and Judges –
The squad, Pelosi's Luciferic Compatibles –
Time to Exorcise such swine, from their
sties of luxury, and into the pens of
our America Justice system, the very
same pens, they have manically emptied,
spilling criminal content back onto
the streets of our society, to
victimize our Nation's innocence –
Vote them out!
And then, Prosecute!
You’re not good for me
You’ve just got to go
You’ve brought me nothing....
Nothing but sorrow!
You’ve sapped all my strength
You’ve tortured my heart
You’ve crushed my spirit
You MUST now depart!
You’ve splintered my wings
You’ve wrung my soul dry
You’ve fed my mind’s beasts
You’ve made your girl cry
I’ve tried those potions
I’ve tried the fake priests
I’ve followed the rules
I’ve had sacred feasts
What else can I do?
What chant can I pray?
To exorcise you
There just seems no way!
You’ve made your own home
So deep in my head
I’m obsessed by you
Tormented in bed
Get out! Please, Get Out!
For I must go on!
Be exorcised NOW!
For my sake...be gone!
When I am all clean
With no demon trace
Then....
Posses me once more
With your angel face!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Mutilated. I sat there; scars upon my wrist.
Ultra sadness. Blood upon my heart.
Tainted are we. Broken am I; shattered are you?
Illuminate the darkness that controls. Wonders that fulfills dreams.
Lies upon lies. Beauty is in the heart of a liar.
Annihilate the good in me. Evil shall prevail.
Terrified. Confusing is the mind of a hurting man.
Exorcise the emotions that rest in me. Crying for pains I can’t feel.
Deny the love that was stolen from. Can’t fathom the pain.
Cuts I possess.
Unique scars I hold.
Terrified I cry.
Till whence I’ll never know.
Eternity of pain.
Relish alone with no one by my side.
Form:
You dripped love like honey,
sweet and golden -
a gilded snare I didn’t see coming.
You adored me loudly,
so the world would clap its hands,
so I would clap my hands -
a fool in your theatre of lies.
You were the man they envied.
I was the woman you owned.
The flat was supposed to be ours -
a home, a haven,
but the walls closed in like fists.
The silence wasn’t peace,
it was the space you left
when you slipped into other beds.
Her perfume clung to you,
a ghost I couldn’t exorcise,
a knife I kept turning inward.
You told me I wasn’t enough.
You told me she was the one,
the one who got away.
And still, you held me,
a trophy to dust when you pleased.
You fed me scraps of affection,
whispers of what I used to be -
as if love were a punishment
I should be grateful for.
Then the baby.
The choice.
Them, or me.
Do you know what it’s like to tear
something alive from your soul,
to claw your way back
from the dark pit of mother
and monster?
I chose me,
but I shattered doing it.
For years, I was a grave,
empty and aching,
my body remembering what it held,
my mind cursing what it let go.
I screamed into pillows,
I begged shadows for peace.
Five years, and this is the first
I haven’t ached for what I lost.
But don’t mistake me -
I haven’t forgiven you.
I haven’t forgotten.
I wish you nothing but darkness,
the same suffocating void
you built around me.
I hope the memory of me
crawls up your spine at night,
that the faces you see
are ones you can’t escape.
You turned me to ash,
but I rose,
smoke-streaked and scarred.
And now I am the fire
you’ll burn in forever.
tormented by an entity attachment
maybe it is black magic or maybe not
find out where within us lies the weakness
that finds us in the demons clutches caught
perhaps an advanced medium can exorcise
the Frankenstein we have by fear created
but at end of days it’s really up to us
not to be by delusion dictated
Obviously we see others
from the outside looking in –
therefore, what one sees is not
all that is present – the good, bad
and ugly hiding and surfacing
using text not always privy the reader –
the writer and reader coming from
different planes of reference. One
wanting to be informed or entertained…
while the other, wanting, clearly,
to exorcise both his living and
dead. We expel far more than
we protect – keeping the true value
where the spirit dwells
and the soul expresses free of
shallow judgment.
Those who live on
in name are not the inventors of
chariots – with their loud, squeaking
wheels...but those brave enough
to follow the beat of a human heart
back to its loving source….
Writhing, languid, and melancholy,
I exorcise the child from my bones.
Prevailing are personal philosophies,
Though I can no longer be who I once was.
I remain rooted in my memories,
Juvenility of mine stays with people and places left behind.
While maturity swells within me,
I sometimes wish to retreat to a time when
My only worry was swinging so high that I’d never come back.
It dawns on me that innocence is the truest state of being,
When evil holds existence only in fables and fairy tales.
When child leaves my body,
I am no longer girl, but gladiator,
not just woman, now warrior.
His hand reached out to mine, open,
Holding it, I smiled, our eyes danced with understanding,
Form and blush outlined his expectations,
But I could see that there may be fear inside.
Mary restated their predicament,
That the child was born out with the marriage bond,
And that people were swaying to the opposite side,
And course dialogue, laughter and spitting were norm.
So I asked the two for their thoughts and predictions,
About the child, if he perhaps could be like, special?
And they specified that he would cure, heal and exorcise,
And also promised that they’d talk to him about the poor.
Could this baby be the messiah?
I pondered and hoped in their certainty;
Was this the predicted son of god?
He would be free from aggressive victimisation,
If we could just name him as god's son.
So I suggested to his parents,
That if the wise men came with a quest,
To accept the name Jesus Christ,
And certify the census, no less.
Freedom for some is in lying,
When there’s no possible alternatives,
But I believe Joseph never lied,
In the population census of Bethlehem,
That just so happened to pass by.
The child would have been suppressed by all,
Assumed to be dirty and unclean,
Not for chat or dialogue,
And certainly not for work in a trade of his call,
Or for work in any trade for that matter.
Nothing would ever have been done,
The poor would never have been healed,
Or not so quickly for sure in history;
The government would not have been rifled,
And Christ would not have come.
Treating the poor for health problems,
Would have come through government legislation,
A long time after Christ,
In an austere, aloof manner.
People to people relationships,
Would not have been respected,
If care had been awarded top-down,
By bureaucrats and officials:
As supervisors of the protected.
Society at that time was narrow minded,
Stuck in traditional religion;
There were outcasts, sinners, infectious people,
And assumptions were remedial and red:
There were no special people,
No exceptions to the rule,
Only one place for the messiah confided.
One baby matters to me,
A life should be saved at any cost and risk,
Because the abilities you show when young,
Shouldn’t be muffled or labeled regressive,
But nurtured in acceptance and love.
Autumn feelings flow
in much the fashion
as lost leaves that blow
All Hallows' finds our minds
in false identities
that take us to escape
our daily grind
and look into the fantasies
behind the hidden selves we
barely have the time to know
Delighting in our children's
rituals for misrule,
in the guise of madness
we find our neighbour's kindness
and exorcise our fears of strangers,
masquerading as a fairy or a witch
or ghost in pain
We anticipate with joy
the chance to be a child again
Suzanne Delaney
Where once there was the image of your face
There's now a gaping hole, an open space
When once I heard the beauty in your voice
There is a deafness there, and it's by choice
Where once there were your words in beauty wreathed
There is a darkened shroud they have bequeathed
When once there was the brilliance of your smile
There is but bitter taste of vilest bile
Where once there was the comfort of your arms
There is but thorns in place of all the charms
When once there was the pleasure of your kiss
There is but sound of demons' awful hiss
You were alive, but dead you are to me
I'll exorcise your ghost, and be set free!!
Eileen Manassian
I could smell the ballpark in my glove
Lose myself in the crooked sky above
Hear the roar of the crowd in my bat
Oblivious to your epitaph called stats
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
So you bought a curse named Ruth
Not to mention 26 Octobers to boot
Did you do it to spite this game
Integrity sold for the price of fame
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
You built a cathedral from which to boast
Helped the Babe exorcise Gehrig’s ghost
Buried Maris beneath a Mantle of shame
Sleeping with a bottle and two dames
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
Joltin Joe swinging that Marilyn clout
The mighty Casey you struck out
Too old for a springtime affair
Welcome Jeffrey Maier
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
Three times a charm in the Bronx zoo
Reggie’s knockin them out, Billy too
Who needs a bookie if you have a boss
You can bet you’re fired after a loss
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
Beware the seduction of pinstripe sin
Immortalized by Jeter’s cocky grin
Four more pennants in five years time
Selling out is winning’s soul crime
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I say
Damn Yankees
So tell me George, when will it end
Is 200 million a salary cap or a trend
If it’s a general manager you seek
I hear the Devil comes real cheap
Dreaming a dream, called baseball
But that was all taken from me
From an evil that does not sleep
Forgive me if I pray
Damned Yankees
I could smell the ballpark in my glove
Lose myself in the crooked sky above
Hear the roar of the crowd in my bat
Oblivious to your epitaph called stats
Dreaming a dream, called baseball