Crucifixes Poems | Examples

Bag O' Sweets

"Bag o’ sweets"

like fantales chewed slowly
the concept of what’s left 
sucks on the sweet marrow of it 

sticky caramel pages 
stuck in between flowers pressing
the parallax pollen view of it

never hallowed
the wrappers flimsy, quaint
short stories unwrapped

violet crumbles 
pollinated footprints
left like scorched fingerprints

melting moments
spooning the soothing
of deep thinking honeytraps

candy years 
worn like necklaces
loved and worshipped like crucifixes

(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)

Your Christ Your God Your Crown Ii

Destroy your Christ 
your god 
your idols fall all apart.

Lay bare your mechanical heart 
rebuild it with gears 
wire electric fire to curve 
your craving for higher desires!

Destroy your Christ 
Your false image is conspiring 

Tear it all apart 
built of hate & faults light 
blown away into the night. 

Electron guns blaze imagery into the night
as a burning spire crumbles down!

Tear down your delusion.

Crucify your god your false idol
Your televised christ, 
Fame, fortune, fantasy!

Cross the wire,
fire the insane 
create your new 
Christ of love, truth, Faith 
holy fire! 

Watch the crucifixes' spines
burning 
turning 
following all part…

Destroy your Christ, 
Your god your idol heart

Tear down the razor wire crowns
lost idols topple them…

Crash them down!

Watch the worlds collide 
in an intricate helix and spiral

Destroy your Christ 
your god 
your idols fall all apart

Acts of War Iii

Act Eight, Chapter One. Part Three
                Part of a grander play.

A house in conflict.
We are mere players
on this vast infinite stage. 
Nothing is accomplished
Nothing is compromised 
Fire of infernos n creation intertwined  
Struggle for the soul of an innocent child, 
the house rocks. 
With the kindred of the damned  
For what is at stake, 
the soul of my little girl. 
Her smile fading from memory.
A Holy War is waged. 
Jihad! 
The lines are drawn in the sand,
In blood, in time
The plans are conspired upon, 
priest gather like a rooks 
full of murderous cold books. 
Heaven's own Holy Judgment. 
Their cloaks flapping in the wind 
like black wings. 
Crucifixes swing... 
The doctors, generals 
and captains of industry 
buy time with their technology 
and very little understanding. 
Pages from holy grimoire flutter, 
fly into the night. 
My child crises
I feel a piece of me withering…
My eyes blur in tears with rage 
and 
I scream, 
WHY!
My must my little girl die.
I feel her suffering. 
As that sinister black thing is grinning…...

III of III

A Twisted Valentine

There’s a battle that is raging
For the future of mankind
Those choosing to deny it
Live in ignorance sublime
Like a kiss of death eternal
From a twisted Valentine
Deceit hangs in the air
Like a potent Turpentine

Surveillance states’ their aim
Information is the key
More value there, than cash or gold
A whole new currency
Incentivize our doctors
As, in time, we’ll pay their fee
As every vestige granted
Is never, ever free 

On the brink of World destruction
With a populace irate
While religious factions act 
On scripted policies of hate
Governments in cold collusion
Godless unions consummate
Endeared to chains of servitude
Beasts of burden copulate

They! Enigmas and anomalies
And walking contradictions
We, stand, soldiers of misfortune
On the road to our perdition
Neither paedophile nor parasite
Waste time on their contrition
Each candidate’s a nightmare
Spinning threads of cold sedition

Like lemmings to the slaughter
Or penned-in frightened sheep
Their acid tongues enthuse us
Not to leave our castles keep
Our crucifixes mounted
On Calvarys Hill so steep
Armageddon’s looming closer
Oh! How Jesus He must weep!

In Plain Sight

The hood is foregone.
Into the past, of fired crucifixes upon front lawns.
   The day has begun, a new dawn.
Bare faced, in the sun's illumination.
   Guised within the roles that make a nation.
Spread throughout vital occupations.
   Where darkened communities suffer from the
bleached cohorts occupation.
   From tainted patrols roaming free on the range
with no scrutiny.
   To deliver captives to like minded counselors 
and judiciary.
   As aesculapian institutions dispense succor to
the most monetary.
   In conjunction with polity, where signed documentation
continues urban poverty.
   Strengthened by miseducation from chameleon educators,
educated with an educational degree.
   Conjoined in unity of conspiracy, waltzing through the
capital of democracy.
   The confederates state their supremacy optically.
It is time for the rolling back of sleeves, to fight
the good fight with bravery.
   Steadfast, and observe closely.
For the greatest trick the devil ever pulled, as evil stands
before you and me.

In the Darkened Foyer

In the Darkened Foyer


There you are again.
Walking this darkened foyer, and that carpeted hallway,
Eyeing the sunken-eyed dancer who forgets she’s not alive;
She’s just passing by all the sickness of dissipated humanity, 
Wrapped in a single walk, and a solitary stretcher,
With a squadron of crucifixes affixed to the skin tags,
Applied with holy powders on these ancient, prayer-eaten walls,
These never-ending white walls that stretch before us,
Telling stories of prolonged death spasms, and postponement, 
Of human decline in the face of the hopeful ones,
And the healing ones, with shocked knowing grins,
And the comatose ones, who know when to at last wake up;
Wake up! I say to the dead ones, the digested ones, long interred!
Now is the time to move your monuments and your dirt.
Now is the time to complain to the clock, the cold twitching clock,
That now holds no eternal sway in either direction for you or me!
Or all the dead ones, lying over there on solitary stretchers,
Under white sheets, in the darkened foyer.

A Nun At Midnight

A nun and her station wagon go far
In one direction on the road of life
With no brakes and a loaded gun
On their way to heaven of course

Camped out in the cemetery at midnight
Protected in her habit and giant cross
Made of metal and wood of course
Like a coat of armor to stop bullets
From people like you and you and them

A nun knows what is best in cemeteries
At midnight with a full moon on display
Tomb stones laid bare with names and dates
Secrets beneath crucifixes blessed
Nuns know what is best for death
Pray for the sinners and all that rest
With or without bullets in their chest


Authors note:  I invite you to read my short story posted here on this site titled “Incident At The Bay Wharf.”  It is lots of fun with guns and bums and nuns.

My Advice As I Go

There are many kind wonderful souls and others helping us from the magical place.
My advice, my child, as I prepare to leave you here, alone, with the human race,
Is to find the ones who will build you up, and help you more easily reach your heartfelt goals.
They will not allow you to live a frantic unlived life in a furious rat race.

Get out your meditation tapes, prayer beads, crucifixes, fish tattoos and singing bowls.
Listen to others; learn a lot, embrace their feelings, build them up, and admire their face.
Love and appreciate nature, take liberating open-your-heart carefree strolls,
Your soul will smile, your muse will laugh, and your caring ways will help others to meet their goals.


Written July 12, 2018
For:  Gregory R. Barden's My Muse, Mortal Contest

Son of A

The more i while away your loss
The less I get my point across 
Depending on whose point of view 
The side of my brain
You choose to listen too
Nothing new here 
I have not reinvented the wheel 
I would not be granted a fresh appeal
The evidence has not changed
I was not framed
I have simply exhausted my claim 
The Pet Shop Boy's are still at No 1
And I am still a Bum
Who stinks of soaked depressed Rum
For failure to overcome 
The poignant fact of skipping lessons 
I am what is to a fence
That barbed wire's scare
When Mother's care
Left trolls to hang out to dry
On the totempoles 
Like crucifixes 
So that other's 
Fear to tread
Because nothing ever good comes from
Feeling sorry for
Or acting out 
What life has taken from
Rather choose to rise above
Or take the high road
Because nothing ever good comes from 
Looking back even when the light is ahead
For Love is a better bed
To place a weary head upon 
When all is said 
And all is done
Goodbye 
Godless 
Son

The Madmans Midnight

The Madman’s Midnight


Tis death again, that flutters in my macrocosmic mind
We may know not when, but it is easy to feloniously find
We wait with flourishing fear for the madman’s midnight
We adjust to a nourishing sphere of a fetal fervent freight

All hope, distant dawns; love may not help us to escape
We are only pawns, incoherent of all recrudescent rape
Shadows fill the room, smoke the abominable abulic air
The hands of doom approaching the midnight sapid snare

~~~

No fixes for the crucifixes all must come to an egregious end
Triploids thru empty voids we all must accumulatively ascend
Our affinity questions divinity before the final hematic hour
There are no signs in the callow confines as we scurry to scour

No more time as we climb the stairways to heavens or hells
We decide where we hide and thus form secret schizoid shells.






Feb.14.2018
The doomsday clock 2 minutes to midnight 
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet

His Heart

Eons, yes, eons! 
His heart has been bearing
the pain of separation;
The false hopes
He sells to his turbulent heart 
crucifixes it unawares everyday;

But!
Like Jesus it resurrects 
after every death 
Uttering the name of his love;
This cycle of death and rebirth 
Like awagaman 
Keeps his heart fighting 
The odds of his life;
And in between, 
His heart suffers
The trauma of separation.

Tangible God

In India some gods come in cast systems
Deity solids molded
Gold plated with a hint of soul
Orange blossoms grow in China
They touch and feel of divinity
Italians keep images of Him on the mantle
Crucifixes around the neck when they go out
Enchanted Indonesians go bump in the dark
They know when they hit into something old
Embrace the cosmos
Made of flesh made in His own image
In space meteors bounce off of Him
They tickle

Perspectives On the Street

The nun sees telephone poles as rows of crucifixes
Counting on a rosary, her habit, on her morning stroll
Construction worker looks down at his feet
Not in prayer, on the same thoroughfare	
Sees concrete he poured there weeks ago 
And not much more
Municipal worker observes wires and traffic signals
Knows them by color and functionality 
Nature lover wants to hug every tree on the street
But it’s illegal in the city
Ornithologist looks for binoculars he forgot while on his walk
Birds don’t wait around for such mistakes
And simply fly away
Boys and girls look for each other; see nothing else
Minds in the clouds
On the street, sometimes young lovers can be found
Town people of all persuasions keep it to themselves 
Each person views a different world as they walk down

Perdition To Paradise

I've feasted with killers and fasted with kings
I've been naked and hungry
I've worn diamonds and rings
I've done deeds of desperation where the crooked do their crimes
I've been to Perdition on up to Paradise

I've been up to Heaven and I've been down in Hell
In the valley of vultures I stumbled and fell
I ran with risk takers until I had to drop the dice
I've been to Perdition on up to Paradise

I've been the sad sinner and I've been the mad saint
I've worn razor blade crucifixes made of self righteous rage
Once asleep in a grave now awakened I arise
I've been to Perdition on up to Paradise

I take it from the top and bring it back to the bottom
I roll with prophets of pain who have long been forgotten
I slip through the spotlight
I disappear into forever...into that neverending night
I've been to Perdition on up to Paradise

Music Festival

Music Festival

Boys in glitter and gold quote the doors
With dreadlocks they beatbox drum and base
A girl balances my friend with her legs
He lies planked above her face

Flags ripple with colour
Cheers wave through the crowd
The clearest pitch of an angel
Embodies my soul with sound

I'm inhibited won't you accompany me
Sunlight replaced by lasers and neon Crucifixes
I lust for a disturbing insatiability
I've become transfixed

Paramedics attend to paralytics
While I unwind I feel
The sleepy sexy wind on my face
And I drift off

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