Long Rottenness Poems
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VANITY WORLD
Looking into my very me, I saw crying and dying children in me.
What is union without children in our nest.
Looking into my future; I saw my future swimming into ocean of sorrows.
Those who lead us; led my future into rottenness,
The braves, the learned and the powerful; suddenly locked lip on my pains
Yes, pains that I may not be call a father or mother;
Who will I call my child? or who will replicate my blood on earth?
You have your blood moving around you,
Your law made me barren; barrenness I did not prepared for.
Let the seas roar; let the wind sad, and let the trees loses sleep.
If we marry as allowed by your law, who will call us parents?
I am a victim of your law, the law you made after you finished;
Having your kids and enjoying menopause time.
I am young and full of energy to reproduce;
But cut short.
When I die, who will shoot cannon at my burial? or
Who will cry for me when I die?
As I have seen children crying for their father.
Whose hand will I place my hand upon ? before my eyes closed.
I think you are good for those who finished having their children.
Yes! They can embrace your law and drive your course.
You made me sick; when I see children I own not calling me father.
I screamed: yeah….., in the midst of multitudes who embraced you;
But, I flow in tears in my closest.
The future is weeping, the presence is rejoicing, the past is laughing at us
At our involvement with leader’s evil against maker of souls.
Sing into face children; I refused to have.
If my eyes are closed, who will pray on my body?
I love children; I stay off the law.
Written by: Pastor Omojevwe Emmanuel Brown.
God be praised for our Pastor’s wife
Virtuous woman* exuded by her countenance
Paragon of spiritual lady’s blest fullness indeed
Fulfilling roles with feminine elegance
Graciously living according to Bible creed
Meeting her family's maternal need.
The Lord be thanked for our Pastor’s wife
Possessing faith of steward with servant-heart qualities
Steadfast as a loving mentor of godly influence
Caring teacher and discipler marked by truth-verities
Diligent homemaker as well as prudent* spouse in her reigning prevalence
Midst her mother and grandmother's joyously cheering presence.
Dear Ma'am Dhel,
Blessed birthday to you. We thank God for your life. You are a blessing to us.
*Proverbs 12:4 - A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband: but she that maketh ashamed is as rottenness in his bones. Proverbs 19:14 - ... a prudent wife is from the LORD.
September 27, 2023
A man that is born of a woman is of few days and full of trouble He continues like a flower and is cut down He continues to flee also as a shadow and continues to not continue and does not you open your eyes upon such a one? And continues to bring into judgment with you? what Who can bring a clean thing out of an unclean thing? Not one .But
A man that finds his lost woman finds a longing desire for the feelings that were lost a softness and a touching caressing the body needs not only her flesh but all of her spirits or soul secrets she expressed in the love and the presence of the Lord hands held high in surrender some things she never would tell or shared with anyone else secrets workings around the clock melodic rhythm heart humming heart and head thumping a melody a tone of embraced yoked together tenderness of man woman yoked together by the heavens the earth the Lord the God of all Gods the spirits of all spirits the reason is clear to the members in side the body torn and abused frame the soul he finds his good thing He finds a virtuous women and she is a crown to his head jewel in perfections breathing diamond in the ruff rubies and all jewels a crown of encased breathing creatures one to another!
But
she that over and over bring the man to open shame brings him all of him to rottenness to the bones but the thoughts of a righteous women to the right
But
even the counsel of wicked jealous hearted ones of deceit brings lies the wicked lie in wait for the blood the taste of blood the thirst for blood the need to shed innocent blood
But
the mouth of the upright shall deliver them from them together yoked everlasting desires forever and ever.
But
the wicked are not so and the wicked are overthrown and are not.
But the house of the righteous shall always stand This is written and shall stand
KJV
Job 14-1!
From water to soil, we continued.
All that I've at any spot known has been rottenness.
I can hear myself awakening close to the water spewed.
Each component of this second was essential to my awareness.
I needed to create this experience a piece of my life.
For quite a long time, I've envisioned myself as auld and dim.
My grandma's fondness, my youngster's delight, and strife.
I was drenched in your and my spirits joining time.
Among your and my bodies is a knot of all-out satisfaction.
We softened into one another in exotic yearning.
The sort of affection doesn't last in this section.
My head is overpowered with thoughts churning.
I realize every one of the firearms utilized before it was on me.
So I put my protective layer on and opened the fortitude entryway.
Fantasy dreams can infrequently solve as standard keys.
Some vaporous lines have been harmed away.
Then, at that point, I understand I'm speechless.
I feel as though I'm suffocating in my consideration.
I felt perplexed in the maze, reachless.
Because each untruth is made up of many assumptions.
There's most likely a channel plug.
Do you wish to be covered? Disintegration
I don't grasp whether this is a clean or a fatal drug
However, I trust tomorrow will be a day of action.
I can set to the side my feelings of dread.
It assumed responsibility for my apprehension and ambiguity.
A steel-clad article of clothing that encloses me as dead.
Carry me truly close to my thoughts and congruity.
Yet, it is the subtleties that we ignore.
This is the fundamental thing to me.
Furthermore, I need everything to explore.
Breathing stops for a short period under a tree.
Written: July 19, 2021
if my lungs were unable to inhale the air from exposure of rottenness, let me speak while confessing about how the smell is. i have to describe the air circling through my body, and how it aches my insides.
the air is the same with my body— how it flows freely through the bodies of matter. with just a touch of sensitivity, the air results in being confused and wanders.
curiosity of the particles will kill its own habitat,
leading it to blend after a while
it won't fade away,
but rather collides with the moving wind.
really, you can't distinguish the air that makes it unfamiliar in the first place, and while it's still sitting on the current, while nothing seeks to damage you.
once you breathe in it, there's no environment for you to feel comfortable. your lungs are filled with the air dependent on what it's been huffing and puffing. you suffocate: feel out of breath, for just stepping out of your place.
how can i know that the air i'm breathing is the drug i'm taking? how can it be a drug? it will crave you. the only way to get out of it is to chase for it. to still grab the oxygen that's always been crashing you.
the odor will take you out, and it also makes you feel better— not because you're the one inhaling it, but because you're already engaged with it.
but if you don't inhale, you already know you'd die through suffocation. it was the very best thing to do for you to live— to rather be with it than to die in it.
the other parts of you are surely terrified by your welcoming attitude. are you sick to enter such cruelty inside your body? or maybe you're just dying to know how sick it is to feel alive?
you will feel the decay of your internal system, it will cause you to function slowly, to pant unsteadily instead of just breathing, but look at you starting to inhale the air you think is fresh, yet somehow eats your flesh whole.
I’ll sing you dream songs
that last as long as the hills
but know this my love
it’s fullness IS
the striving of our wills
Against the darkness
that has crept stealthily
into the hearts of man
I cannot describe
this latent longing
to rest mine eyes
upon the faces of my joy
to stay there reticent
upon the turn of your gaze
Soft sentience gathers
like a cloak of gauze
to be not disaffected by
the backs of those who consume
the refuse of worthlessness
and despise excellencies
but prefer the violations of every
virtue , whose villainy
is unconcealed on any level
considered the character
OF MAN
Salacious , drooling compounded
with the Sophistry of sophistication
Supercilious in their vanities
as rottenness to a tree
Nay , but here I seek
a palate for the delicacy
yielding tender fruit
so desirable as it’s fleeting
from a world gone course
that swallows any thoughts
of pursuing a nature
whose potency can be clearly seen
I defy your erosions
corrosion of thought and deeds
whose love is less than
rutting animals
I decry your mogul media
your grand theatrics
I have divorced you
to pursue a finer thought
I’ll pass you on the street
you will have my hello
but don’t expect to drag me
to your peers whose
consciousness is gone
even in the daytime
I will , my time
with the quality , geniality
of thoughts vibrant
of the orchestral heights
and cast your lows
into some other state
COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
The rottenness of it all is no less foul for having been bleached white. This is the conclusion I come to. I walk with a scarf covering my mouth through the dimly lit catacombs of the faithful. The arched ceiling holds a dangling string of incandescent bulbs which cast a sickly yellow glow on my shoes and the cavities full of thighbones. “Why are all the bones the same,” I ask. The guide smiles. “Tens of thousands of heaven seekers wish to be buried here. There’s only so much room,” he said. “Even today people pay for holy ground.” Ghostly, armless, rib-less, headless, specters seem to rise un-braced, oh the indignity of it all. I picture them searching for the missing parts of themselves. I sneeze through my paisley scarf, stumble back; back, following the arrows in reverse, seeking the way out; just as frantically as they had sought the way in. The rest of the group trudges on; after all, they had paid their coin to Charon.
First Published in Inwood Indiana January 2014
The sprout of momentary illusion,
the voyage of a derelict dream in place of a lie,
the lure of April, the deceit of May concertized in December,
in wintry snow, mocked,
miscarriages of a well worn organ,
the grin of February,
suspended in September,
the burden of unconquered Lust,
the armies of censorial secret "bedders",
begging for the abandoned rottenness on my path,
obsequious frenzy of the hasty oath at Ikoyi,
the stealthily lure of a defiled bed before the oath,
the desperation of "a wanna be" by crook,
hurried by the mascara coated looks of a postponed "dowried hariotery,"
A bedfellow from the red zone,
an unrepentant Gomer,
The armies of bias exes overwhelmed the gaze with suspicions,
compelling through diurnal and surreptitious escapades in dark corners,
allured by unfinished lust,
to the city centre for a quickie,
And myriads of men hides in ambuscade save one,
with threats of kill for suspending their “off home” secret lush
The public mistress unfit for their homes, Yet suited for their Lust by turns
she warmed our beds they say'
purloined for your Fall of a few days,
The bawd roamed unrestrained,
'Don't talk to me' she says.
Unbridled concupiscence her forte,
forty plus years in the trade,
well versed in the art
The sneaky nights,
the secret calls,
the Stygian services,
and countless gift of libidinous frivolities.
Yet their victim must remain mute,
as truly the drama unfolded ,
all appeal rebuffed by arrogance,
as they taunt with permissive perverse Laws
convinced on the first day.
Converse for four weeks,
conscripted in one week
“conbedded” on arrival in same day,
Correction of a fool,
concluded at the Court.
Then in retrospect, Delilah revived.
She was the best we had
the best of us.
The best of the clan,
and she was rotten.
We were all rotten
learned rottenness
learned from the best
from our mama
She could out-cuss us,
out run us and outwit us.
We were her boys, and
we were the best we could be.
The best of the best
The Thompson trio
People crossed the street
when they saw us coming
We were a force to be avoided
us brothers three. By the time
we were in double digits, people
from other towns were coming
to our town to fight us.
They had heard how tough we were.
They did not know about our mama.
They would get to Mama first.
They would be nice and polite too.
"Could you please tell us where your boys are, ma'am?"
Mama wasn't fooled.
She would take them on first,
give them a licking they wouldn't forget.
Some went home after that.
Others were even more determined to find us.
One thing for sure, Mama always taught them
a lesson before they got to us.
If you think those boys are tough, wait 'til you
meet their mama!
Mama was the best we had.
She was the best of us.
Your viewpoint can be comforting,
Or your viewpoint can be troubling:
Either comforting as a safeguard,
Or as troubling as a canard.
A safeguard tunnels Saints through sin.
A canard tunnels sinners through spin.
Though God created man upright,
He schemes to hide sin from the light.
With idols in front of their faces,
The Lost stumble in dark places.
Seeking a number of oracles,
Swells their number of obstacles.
Hypocrites whitewash their walls.
Their ruse of righteousness forestalls,
Examining what lies underneath.
The Spirit's Sword stays in its sheathe.
The Weak wrap their sin inside "love",
A "love" that belies truth from above.
They will not progress anymore,
As rottenness spreads from their core.
Rebels should open their minds,
When Scripture reveals, it unbinds,
For mankind is much maligned,
Projecting their bias resigned.
The Perfect focus on God's plan,
Having the mind of the God-Man,
A conduct that's surely becoming,
For Saints prepared for His Coming.
By embracing this point of view,
We achieve the promised breakthrough,
Being perfected in the Master's way,
God's will we're faithful to obey.
Strive for the Prize that lies ahead,
Through the One who rose from the dead.
His light and immortality shine,
Dispelling the darkness by Design.
Adopt the pursuit that frees us,
That intimacy with Christ Jesus,
And exchange the viewpoint of mankind,
For the viewpoint that transforms your mind.