Short Mortification Poems

Should mortification
be justification
for your fortification
  
  Then you need 
  a long vacation  


'Judgment, thou art fled to brutish beasts...'    
    Marc Antony's 'Funeral Oration' in Shakespeare's "Julius Caesar"...

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Some feelings plummet 
so deep, so quick
into the heart 
that only loneliness 
can help you
feel once more.

Some truths are 
so bitter, so painful
that only mortification 
can help you 
cope with them.

Some things are so heartbreaking 
that only your soul
can do the crying 
for them....

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Love is wanted, 
Love is needed, 
Love has even been synthesized,
Your neural pathways can be harmonized, synchronized, and then verbalized.
When frequencies and sound waves organize, 
It pushes and pulls to pluralize, The inevitable mortification of pride.
Love is wanted, 
Love is needed, 
Love is to apologize....

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G-ood girl cannot be put down, 
I-n spite of criticism; 
N-either frown nor scorn is 
A-ble to make her day dim. 

D-espite the other's trash talk, 
E-vil deed and humiliation; 
V-ictory smiles at her 
I-n the midst of mortification. 
D-iscomfort is truly felt before winning the crown; 
A-pril twenty-third Sunday, good girl cannot be put down....

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Vehemently tagging Victims
Impassively Impartial Illnesses Partake
Reveling in Recurrence and Replication
Unbarring any Understanding.....except Universal
Septum’s Of Organism’s Seeking Sinister Salvations 

A VIRUS…….is no mortification
Rather simply 
                     ......an unforeseen deceptive disguise  
Fervently Floating through our thick .....polluted skies~

...

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Simeon the Syrian
born in 390
carried to extreme
self-denial and mortification. 
For thirty seven years
he resided atop a six foot wide pillar
seeking redemption, 
giving advice to peers,  
and preaching the word.
From about ten feet high
to seventy feet,
new pillars stood closer to God.
His legacy carried on to 1900 AD
as new martyrs came forth 
to continue his word.

*From Greek “Stylos” meaning Pillar
© Apr 10 2010...

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As the hail makes love to the streets
I query its vendetta with I
What had I done to be defamed
By such unforeseen chagrin

The sound ‘tis the climax of the horizon
Echoes that of a violinist scarred by sexual mortification
The harmony plays in quite a lovely manner
Could hook one quickly if not careful

Appeased I sit in a wooden, black chair
And saturate in fine rock refrains
A pacifying compensation if I may say
A scripted version of hell...

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