PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Cut the heart

and watch for my bleeding soul to cry for her,

Like a Jesus for us to be saved in...

A Lord, nor a virgin Senora ever showed.

Love and hate order one heart beat, raping what it has sowed.

Hang my saint head and dim my aura.



I am crowned in sin, mostly by gaudy gold.

A crown that you could'nt hold hardley

inside a lovers world order growing cold.



The flower will wilt,

But the thorn could still

lascerate us like living proof.

The root to truth

may not bloom in our pursuit.

Lies a man birthed become minute.



A final love lore mourned

behind stained glass decorum...

Singing a solo life has formed.

Piercing the hearts of the moral and reformed.

Screaming in mourning,

I left it behind in a recording for you to adorn.



Before that crown on me began to protrude,

And the people ensued;

Careless how they applauded or booed

for the love I've accrued.



You have described me for the people to either Jesus or Jude.

In love more than you;

than you've ever persued.



Chastising and blame;

made Church for broken hearts to pain.

Sinners gathered, it became. ..

unstrange.



Nothing left to derange.



A noose for my tears to swell;

I let them hang.

Even if they fell,

it would be right as rain.