Poet's poetry
reveals, occults mystery
only God knows how
When you walk deep into a wildland
Seeing butterflies dancing in flowers
It's chanting by flying you understand
Suchlike the angels touring in the clouds
You are romantic
While you saw a little newly born bird
Chasing by a bulky starving grey mouse
Your empathy soar bitterly into absurd
And blame the predator for no occults
You are benignant
You are romantic and you are benignant
You will surely be blessed by the land
*Good luck for being positively romantic and having concentrated empathy.
Satanic occults stretch there black hands through the dark,
practicing there black magic, nothing left of them, hollow as dead tree bark
yet its a problem to read your bible in public places, or proclaim the gospel,
to them,
Jesus will come with pounding revelations
martial law sets in place
we become herded cattle
pigs gathered In a filthy place
shepherds of shame,
misleading the sheep, still they claim there not the ones to blame
watch as the risen Babylon comes
nothing it ever was
rejoice when the time comes for its final crumbs
these visions awaken within me rage
want to go Ghost rider
whip them all, make them remember the name
(John 2. 13-22 Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle)
"Zeal for your house will consume me."
I'd rather die
than have them take me Alive
for them I will not change
see the links
in these coming chain
Bright
Full moon
In Christmas
Eve rainy night
Offers a great sight
As hide and seek
Moon occults
The light
Bright
Nayda Ivette
12-24-2015
I see...
Smear of oils
With weird forms,
Roar’s of the occults.
Subhuman mesmerises, beauty nudes
Woven entwined, as potions of love.
I see ...
The canvas, come alive,
At a master’s touch, to reality.
Casting spells with the unknown
Witch craft? Nay,
A blend of passion and dread.
I see ...
Energies of erotica,
Taking shape
She thirsts, She throbs,
And on leathery wings
She rides.
I see ...
Shrouds of mystery
Clawing at my heart,
And I thirst
But then my oasis,
Is within.
The tattoos, the body and the moonlit shine.
Lusting shadows, the winds of change;
Busting seams, subdued passions as they soar.
Tremors in the voice, the fascination of her moulds.
Swaying tides the occults, the mesmerism of her lips.
Churning frolics of her wears, the innocence in the eyes.
Lost, were these flowing forms on the sands of time;
Yellow blossoms the astrophytum in the wilderness.
It is the dragon, on your back that woos.
The sawan-ki-ghata, that coils to the fore;
And the pendent loops, that entice you to him.
Free flow like silks are your contours of love.
Sparkling gold as whites the dryness, the dews;
On highs, like the virgin flower It’s sheen.
Touches, from the mascara and the eyebrow shrouds,
Entwined lashes daring your mystics your charms.
It is he that alights fires in you;
Burning are the two, in the clouds and the rain.
Though the monster shrinks to the tattooed back,
Strong are his bonds as the fountain flows;
With the crusts and the troughs like the ocean wide.
Silent are the twangs, the sinews of love
And you in your deepened harmony;
Blossom and bloom to his magical flute.