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    poetry


    dots Submission Name: Lone Star Over Murky Watersdots
    --------------------------------------------------------





    Author: rev.jpfadeproof
    ASL Info:    27/m/nyc
    Elite Ratio:    6.14 - 366/359/149
    Words: 344
    Class/Type: Poetry/Misc
    Total Views: 777
    Average Vote:    5.0000
    Bytes: 2373



    Description:
       this image emerges from the center of the whirl-pool galaxy some 31-37
    (according to hubble)
    million light years away.
    look at what is staring
    us down from the farthest realms
    of the known universe.
    can you guess what it is?

    remember a light year is roughly 6 trillion miles away and travels at the speed
    (186,000 mps) of light.
    BTW, the title is a working title...


    Make the font bigger!! Double Spacing Back to recent posts.

    dotsLone Star Over Murky Watersdots
    -------------------------------------------


    Imminently, the gallant sage of the twilight
    will crash into the murky infinitude of my dusky face
    fusing the boundless crimson heavens
    with mellow-turquoise earth.

    The sun will die a resolved martyr,
    her frail ancient body extinguished by blazing oceans.

    I will rise upon concussive wind, shattered;
    the monochromatic moon blushes
    with the kiss from my quivering lips.

    In that day, my tongue will scribble in quicksilver cursive
    an ode for the unknown, the abused, the shackled,
    upon the pitch black skin of the evening temptress.
    Engraved in the palm of your pierced hands
    I emerge like a sequoia extending toward the atmosphere.
    Head first I dive into the sea of the abyssal stars,
    the firmament composing my formidable frame.
    Inapprehensible dreams
    trampled and tarnished beneath the feet of sullen men
    orbit my strident existence.

    Someday, the elements will burn with a fervent heat.
    The fleshy universe will sag,
    reminiscent of the persistence of memory.
    Time having faded into the cameo
    subconscious of the eternal.
    Moving further into the vociferous rapids of grace
    I mount the cherub guarded ark.
    Shaded by mercy I beat my scarred chest with clenched fists
    breathing in the incandescent fires of glory.

    Presently, immersed in the shadow
    of the slumber-less city,
    surrounded by the flecked lights of the skyline flickering
    in concert with the yellow blurs of taxis racing by,
    through the steel suspension rods of the Brooklyn bridge
    I observe a lone star gazing into the misty puddles of my eyes.
    Like a flaring comet shooting through the charred corduroy sky
    it juggernauts towards me at the speed of thought.
    Crashing through my caged soul it consumes my being
    conceiving freedom within my spirit.

    Out of the smoldering ash I rise with liberty’s flames
    vehemently encompassing my brow as a crown.
    Robed with the skins of His righteousness
    I penetrate the dark valley of the night
    wielding the scepter of His authority
    deftly.




    Submitted on 2007-01-12 00:54:10     Terms of Service / Copyright Rules
    Submissions: [ Previous ] [ Next ]

    Rate This Submission

    1: >_<
    2: I dunno...
    3: meh!
    4: Pretty cool
    5: Wow!




    ||| Comments |||
      Apparently my first attempt at commenting got dumped when I tried to post it. Maybe I took too long. Not having a photographic memory, I'll do what I can to get some of it back. Remind me to copy such text before posting from now on.

    Rather than reviewing it line by line, I'll sumarize by saying this has the solid feel of a true vision, a powerful one at that. Having taken us with you on such an example of a glorious "one with God" feeling, how then do we continue our required daily walk with mankind? Elevated my friend, elevated. Thanks.
    | Posted on 2007-01-19 00:00:00 | by Blue Monk | [ Reply to This ]
      Your metaphors are beautiful john-paul. And what I see as theme here is that you're willing to fight for justice. Thank God because most are willing to enjoy the fruits of the earth and lay idle. You love to give and I'm glad for that.

    But more importantly than that I see the monomyth in motion here as described in the books of Joseph Campbell. His theory was based on the notion that as we have forgotten soul or the "source" of life and God we would begin to lives of futility. But it's about the return of Christ and second coming and I see this.

    Imminently, the gallant sage of the twilight
    will crash into the murky infinitude of my dusky face
    fusing the boundless crimson heavens
    with the mellow-turquoise earth.
    The sun will die a resolved martyr,her frail ancient body extinguished by the blazing ocean.
    I will rise upon concussive wind, shattered(.)
    (T)he monochromatic moon blushes
    with the kiss from my quivering lips.

    (T)hat day, my tongue will scribble in quicksilver cursive
    an ode for the unknown, the abused, the shackled,
    upon the pitch black skin of the evening temptress.
    Engraved in the palm of your pierced hands
    I emerge like a (S)equoia extending toward the atmosphere.
    Head first, I dive into the sea of the abyssal stars,
    the firmament composing my formidable frame.
    Inapprehensible dreams
    trampled and tarnished beneath the feet of sullen men
    orbit my strident existence. (I think I would trade inapprehensible for a simple "vague" : speak to to the soul, not mind?)

    Someday, the elements will burn with a fervent heat.
    The fleshy universe will sag,
    reminiscent of the persistence of memory.
    Time having faded into the cameo
    subconscious of the eternal.
    Moving further into the vociferous rapids of grace
    I mount the cherub guarded ark.
    Shaded by mercy (,)I beat my scarred chest with [my] clenched fists
    breathing in the incandescent fires of glory.

    I see this as your own resurrection imparting the return of Christ to claim those of pure heart. I think it's your hero's journey. In the next strophe I think some of the articles could be cleaned up the images are perfect but there's too much around them to make them come alive.

    Presently, immersed in the shadow
    of the slumberless city,
    surrounded by the skyline flickering
    the yellow blurs of taxis racing by,
    I observe, through the steel rods of the Brooklyn bridge,
    a lone star gazing
    into the misty puddles of my eyes.
    Like a flaring comet shooting through
    the charred corduroy sky
    it juggernauts toward me
    at the speed of thought.
    Crashing through my caged soul
    it consumes my being
    conceiving freedom within my spirit.

    If freedom is a concept is it indeed real? You might want to change the word conceiving, because there is nothing arbitrary about this write! "And freedom is born in my spirit."? While I know these are mental concepts, they do in fact, change our lives.

    Out of the smoldering ash I rise with liberty’s flames
    vehemently encompassing my brow as a crown.
    Robed with the skins of His righteousness
    I penetrate the dark valley of the night
    wielding the scepter of His authority
    deftly.

    Yes, the second coming and while we've waited so patiently, for Christ to return, it happens over and over inside of us. A beautiful account of how one is taken, john-paul, and it is rather unquestionable, isn't it?

    Great work, hope you don't mind my edit on the last strophes, other than that, it was just little nits. But it all seems clearer in terms of images now.

    Nan


    | Posted on 2007-01-16 00:00:00 | by nansofast | [ Reply to This ]
      In that day, my tongue will scribble in quicksilver cursive
    an ode for the unknown, the abused, the shackled,
    upon the pitch black skin of the evening temptress.
    Engraved in the palm of your pierced hands
    I emerge like a sequoia extending toward the atmosphere.
    Head first I dive into the sea of the abyssal stars,
    the firmament composing my formidable frame.
    Inapprehensible dreams
    trampled and tarnished beneath the feet of sullen men
    orbit my strident existence.



    Interesting juxtaposition of extreme metaphors, J.P.; a single star risen over the murky waters of mankind (with a subtle reference to pagan worship/ nature/ the pursuit of material desires as a 'temptress,' no less). Although there is a reverence for nature throughout each of your works, there is also the stern warning to those who view it a means of gain or end in itself. Correct me if I've missed something there, but that was one of the immediate impressions I was left with.

    In this universe, the world has come to a halt as you observe God 'scribble in quicksilver cursive' across the sky, as if it were a parchment and the heavens were a witness to His majesty and glory. The culmination of this vision appears to be a description of the 'born again' experience as you observe and are immersed in that glory as flows from heaven.

    Nicely done. Sir.
    Take care.
    Bill.
    | Posted on 2007-01-13 00:00:00 | by rws | [ Reply to This ]


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