Pleasingly plump
Appealing appellation?
Por favor, senor ~
Propose its purgation
"I count him braver who overcomes his desires than him who conquers his enemies; for the hardest victory is over self."
- Aristotle
O Father! Help me overcome this temptation!
Vain thoughts remove, even before their formation,
Enveloped by You, let me find liberation,
Release these shackles of sin that cause frustration,
Cleanse my heart from evil, it sure needs purgation!
Obliterate all black spots from soul sensation,
Make me whole again, dear Lord, You're my salvation!
Embrace me with Your love, hear my supplication!
In Jesus Christ's name, I pray,
Amen!!
On Judgement day, after the dead have been resurrected, assembled, and judged by God. The saved and the damned now being clearly distinguished, the souls will traverse over hellfire via the bridge of As-Sirat. The faithful, will "move easily and swiftly across a broad path", led first of all by the Prophet of Muhammad himself and other leading lights of the community on their way to paradise (Jannah); those judged guilty of sin but still considered to be mu'minun (believers) will fall from the bridge into Hellfire (jahannam) but remain there only for a limited period of purgation; unbelievers, however, will find the bridge has become "sharper than a sword and thinner than a hair" and darkness blinds their way.Their inevitable fall from the bridge will be an "inescapable descent" into their fiery destination of everlasting punishment.
https://youtu.be/ON1j2TJCoQU
Life seemed to be so beautiful
when thy was by my side,
Such strange was the addiction
That made my heart pound with pride
Pride not about myself but you
Through the emotions triggered by sound
Passing of every minute had the pain grew
With the feeling of relief such profound
It felt as the purgation of my soul
But for a moment so brief
Coz when her words stop
My tender heart turns calloused
Its a moment of life I re-live every night
Through her melodies playing on
But as the source of music loses its light
The moment of peace is gone
This moment is what that makes me realise
That Nothing Lasts in a period of time
Its all upon us whether to adore or despise
So Think about your mistakes done in quarantine
Engagement with thwarted life in existential primal crisis
searches experiential solution in life’s nebulous narrative.
With purgation of edgy emotions and clasping catharsis
hears the whispers of the inner invite of the divine ecstasy.
Cohesive complex sense of self, the crafted chronicle
epitomizing the dubious meaning of the enigmatic life,
turns out often to be the albatross around the neck.
The ship wrecks in tempest, the ancient mariner drowns.
The sublime spirit poised static in the blue of tranquil depth,
a perfect poem rhyming with the infinite amplitude of bliss,
engrossed motionless in the boundless ethereal ethos,
creating ceaselessly the omnipotent consciousness within.
Spilling pot of chore broken, strings of attachment snapped,
captive psyche finds the final freedom in joy of renunciation,
perceiving in deeper self united with the absolute, the divine,
you’re no longer a drop in ocean, you’re THE eternal ocean.
Date written : May 13, 2019
January 7, 2020
Contest : Strand Select 5, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Chasing , incandescent light
Crossing , narrow steep street
Purgation, the raison d'être
I shall see, I shall see.
(Eyes shut)
Sluicing , the river ends
Splattering , the wisdom
Concealing, it's conscious
I shall hear, I shall hear.
(Ears shut)
Frantic , trees laugh
Rustling , seeking quite
Collapsed , without a word
I shall be, I shall be.
(Mouth shut)
Trees and seeds
like embryonic eggs
are each fed by root systems
intending diastatic maturation,
like Easter lillies,
and seasonal, more static, decomposing purgation,
heading toward further cooperative re-investments
or waste
depending on our choices
and way of seeing,
more competitive or more cooperative.
The seed of human nature's nutritional system
are the trees of Earth's natural root systems,
ergodic and phylogenic,
designed for ecopolitical cooperation
more than ego-individual,
or ethno-tribal-creedal,
or anthro-super-speciating
monoculturing competitions.
Trees and seeds
and new-life eggs
are each fed by history's more cooperatively-owned
and governing
root nutritional systems.
History's regeneration is genetic culture's re-creation.
Positive psychology's rehabilitative health
is political science's
and economic's
cooperative regenerative wealth.
Permaculture Design's polycultural climaxing biosystem
is like Community Economic Development's Beloved Trade Guild
ecosystems
feeding and breeding Historical-Cultural Communities
of regeneratively self-optimizing health and wealth.
Regenerative optimization is polycultural recreational vocation
as ego purgation fuels eco-normative sublimation.
Light is dark at night
as white is absence of black by day.
This revolution of gravity's co-prehension
is that recycle of co-arising nonduality.
Here is also Now
as Yang's spacious enlightenment
explicates Yin's empowering flow of time
we regeneratively recreate.
You are part of me right now
if I was part of you
when This became That
which you understand.
Forgive me my lord,
For I have committed a sin,
Let me have no mercy,
No blood against my skin.
I destroyed whatever I had,
Offered much more than I could take,
Destroyed all the happiness,
I could ever make.
Forgive me my lord,
For I have committed a crime,
Life was your gift of love,
Fewer smiles,
More tears to shove.
Oh! How I wish you could
Forgive me,
My lord,
Had I not wasted your gift,
Of life,
And broken the relation of time,
Had I not killed my innocence,
I believe I would still be alive.
Forgive me my lord,
For what I am going to say,
I am asking for your forgiveness,
And now it’s your turn to play,
All this time,
Believing I did all wrong,
But as I see,
It was not much,
To bear it for so long.
It’s not always my fault,
Is how I see ,
Oh lord, for that,
Please forgive me.
WOMAN WRITER
If interviewed on the subject of the sonnet
What man has brought me endless cups of tea?
They’ll say I’ve got a Queen Bee in my bonnet
The male groupies will not type my poems for me.
What golden mother lives without inspiration?
What sister can be truly herself, and tackle
The canon in the patriarchal cold, the purgation
Of miles of libraries with the truth a hackle?
The worst thing is that there’s no male muse -
I don’t feel the marginalisation or the neglect
Quite as much as the possibility I might lose
The reader in the absence of his call-collect -
And I must be very careful with my man -
I lose a husband if I kiss a fan.
by Rosemarie Rowley
“ LIFE WITH IT’S QUINTESSENCE & PURGATION LIFE “
Life is Quintessencent
Friends are Purgative
Mentor as Citadel
Surroundings are Alamode
Goal is Antecedent
Results are Candoured
Future is Begget
Excellenceas an Compendium
Aberration as an Cajolery
Assonance of Happiness
Live life with Bravity
As life is Celestial
Wriiten by : -
Abhishek sasan
Speak to me until your words become meaningless.
The sound of your vibrations becomes a gesture of the metaphysical.
In our human confines its fruition is as fruitless as salvation.
Your mouth becomes a prism of incantation
Chanting meaningless literal meaning
Conceived of Eve,
The endless desire for purgation
All lies
I will not condone a god that condemns me
Give us the sacrament, expelled to eternal chaos
Embrace!
There in lies harmony through acceptance.
A falling star met butter fingers,
kissed the pavement rain,
scorched threadbare pocket cloth,
dream vapour in the wet.
Dark smoke was all it brought
to dreary eyes of pain,
and tears crept with sloth
ancient as the sky.
Fresh bile around the grilles,
steaming sweet purgation,
foretell a future day
by entrails of clairvoyance.
A seeing eye fulfils
my blind imagination,
all cats by night are grey,
analogous charcoal shapes.
Someplace else, another room,
where I can spread like plague,
or go unnoticed, lean
old driftwood on the bar.
Sometimes you leave perfume,
a promise bloused and vague,
to linger sight unseen,
I sling my hook to home...
...where you supplant the reasons,
a spell invoked and blissed,
to conjure my induction,
becalm my raging sails.
My angel for all seasons,
components sorely missed,
in spite of this reduction,
no less my world, my love.
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