neonatenecromancer

[neonatenecromancer]

If often feels like life is an endurance test from God, stop passing me the baton

[neonatenecromancer]

The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie

The Devil throws cash at strippers on yachts, And smokes cuban cigars, Behind his back his fingers tied in a knot, He wears damask-us not polyester, The Devil’s dress shoes step across the nevada sand, His mustang smells of coal and tar, His hair is slicked back and his skin is tanned, He’s a real silicone valley star, He truly is a friendly man, He’ll offer you a job from across the bar You can say no he won’t give a damn, Because he ain’t just some story from a grimoire,

Inspired by “The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie” by Colter Wall, I might write a second stanza

[neonatenecromancer]

Photos do not do justice how vibrant Ultramarine blue appears in real life

I recently went to see the national gallery in London, an entire section of which is dedicated to depictions of Mary. In this room full of the same woman in her same red dress and blue cloak, some pieces floor to ceiling. Your eye is instead draw immediately to this small , 73 by 58 cm (29 by 23 inch), The Virgin in Prayer by Giovani Battista because it uses a blue simply so brilliant you cannot look away from it.

so many blues in that room, blues which in pictures online appear almost the same, so different in real life.

[neonatenecromancer]

The House Always Wins

Yuppies and city boy metrosexuality, With eyeliner and baggy jeans, Audrey Hepburn smoking from a Quellazaire 1950s drama queens,

The marlboro man out in the Chihuahuan, Deep south west where the flavour is, But it’s really as mild as May Allison, After all the house always wins,

A billboard can’t speak to you son, Nor a commercial break or newspaper clipping, A bottle of coke can’t silence your tommy gun Try a cigarette, it’ll stop that pistol spitting,

Gamble, you’re sure to win some time, Against a greaser in the back of a speakeasy, Pull an offsuit 8 or roll a snake eyes, When the house always wins, losing sure is easy

[neonatenecromancer]

The House Always Wins- By Me

(Untitled by Richard Price 2006, this poem's inspiration) The House Always Wins

Yuppies and city boy meterosexuality, With eyeliner and baggy jeans, Audrey Hepburn smoking from a Quellazaire 1950s drama queens,

The marlboro man out in the Chihuahuan, Deep south west where the flavour is, But it’s really as mild as May Allison, After all the house always wins, A billboard can’t speak to you son, Nor a commercial break or newspaper clipping, A bottle of coke can’t silence your tommy gun Try a cigarette, it’ll stop that pistol spitting, Gamble, you’re sure to win at some time, Against a greaser in the back of a speakeasy, Pull an offsuit 8 or roll a snake eyes, When the house always wins, losing sure is easy

[neonatenecromancer]

The Revolution Will Not Be Televised- Gill Scott Heron

You will not be able to stay home, brother You will not be able to plug in, turn on and cop out You will not be able to lose yourself on skag and skip out for beer during commercials, because The revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be televised The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox in four parts without commercial interruptions The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon blowing a bugle And leading a charge by John Mitchell, General Abrams, and Spiro Agnew To eat hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary The revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be brought to you by the Schaefer Award Theatre And will not star Natalie Woods and Steve McQueen or Bullwinkle and Julia The revolution will not give your mouth sex appeal The revolution will not get rid of the nubs The revolution will not make you look five pounds thinner, because The revolution will not be televised, brother

There will be no pictures of you and Willie Mays pushing that shopping cart down the block on the dead run Or trying to slide that color television into a stolen ambulance NBC will not be able predict the winner at 8:32 on report from 29 districts The revolution will not be televised

There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down brothers on the instant replay There will be no pictures of pigs shooting down brothers on the instant replay There will be no pictures of Whitney Young being run out of Harlem on a rail with a brand new process There will be no slow motion or still lifes of Roy Wilkins Strolling through Watts in a red, black, and green liberation jumpsuit that he has been saving for just the proper occasion

Green Acres, Beverly Hillbillies, and Hooterville Junction will no longer be so damn relevant And women will not care if Dick finally got down with Jane on Search for Tomorrow Because Black people will be in the street looking for a brighter day The revolution will not be televised

There will be no highlights on the eleven o'clock news and no pictures of hairy armed women liberationists and Jackie Onassis blowing her nose The theme song will not be written by Jim Webb or Francis Scott Keys Nor sung by Glen Campbell, Tom Jones, Johnny Cash, Engelbert Humperdinck, or The Rare Earth The revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be right back after a message about a white tornado, white lightning, or white people You will not have to worry about a dove in your bedroom, the tiger in your tank, or the giant in your toilet bowl The revolution will not go better with Coke The revolution will not fight germs that may cause bad breath

The revolution will put you in the driver's seat The revolution will be no re-run, brothers The revolution will be live

[neonatenecromancer]

Me and God (Anna Bates)

I said God, let me in, Your chain link fence can’t stop me, I can wait, but in the end, I have no fear of mockery, So I will knock, and wear you thin, Set your dogs upon me, Me and God, face to face, Drawing both our shotguns, Creator views what he creates, It seems he has forgotten, That I am wicked, in a way, That fruit grows old and rotten, And it is cruel, in some odd way, That he refused to shoot me, He just stood, gun on display, And seemed to stare right through me, My triggers stuck, I’m too ashamed, I could not do the shooting.

[neonatenecromancer]

The First Experience Of Lonliness

Death had bespoked Abel, Gifted with a palimpsest made blank, But never once again carved, Perhaps he wished his brother had kept him, Much like the sheep he himself reared, Frater meus, Who had nurtured sap but not blood, vetch but not kin, Despite, oh how he missed the taste of sweet korfodan Missed pulling the stone from apricots and dates Peeling citrons and feeling figs bleed down his chin, But now there was now no cave of treasures to huddle in, Nor Tigris to drink from, Abel was given redemption to God, But came to discover empty hills of gold, Silent shores of shimmering gemstones, And lifeless fountains which stood only to mock him,

Abel, sweet sweet Abel, The first lamb sacrificed to God, And the lonesome neoteric of this quiet place called Heaven.

[neonatenecromancer]

[neonatenecromancer]

This may be... Jesus?

its so easy to pander to me in fiction media. show me a guy that for some reason doesnt feel himself to be as human as most others are and i will sit with him for hours

[neonatenecromancer]

God says 'Love'

‘My command is this: Love each other as I have loved you’ John 15:12:

‘Let all that you do be done in love.’ Corinthians 16:14:

‘Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs.’ Corinthians 13:4-8:

‘I have found the one whom my soul loves’ Song of Solomon 3:4 (NIV) 

‘I have loved you with an everlasting love because you are precious to me’ Jeremiah 31:3 

 ‘The second commandment is this, ‘You shall love your neighbour as yourself.’ There is no other commandment greater than this’ Mark 12:31 

‘You are precious and I love you’ Isaiah 43:4 

‘Let the morning bring me word of your unfailing love, for I have put my trust in you. Show me the way I should go, for to you I entrust my life.’ Psalm 143:8 

‘Let love and faithfulness never leave you; Bind them around your neck, write them on the tablet of your heart. Then you will win favour and a good name in the sight of God and man.’ Proverbs 3:3-4

‘You are forgiving and good, abounding in love to all who call to you’ Psalm 86:5

‘Beloved, I pray that all may go well with you and that you may be in good health, as it goes well with your soul’ 3 John 1:2

Also known as all the times, of my own relocation, that the word "love" occurs in the bible.

[neonatenecromancer]

When the Pawn hits the conflicts he thinks like a king What he knows throws the blows when he goes to the fight And he'll win the whole thing before he enters the ring There's no body to batter when your mind is your might

When you go solo you hold your own hand And remember that depth is the greatest of heights If you know where you stand then you'll know where to land Then it won't matter where you fall because you'll know you're right Fiona Apple

[neonatenecromancer]

love is visceral and gross, actually

[neonatenecromancer]

Prayers & Thoughts (Anna Bates)

Flowers are dead, coke bottle red Blood is spilling halfway down your green glass head I feel sick, dirty dirty trick Shiny little bullet all you wanted was a lick Men come check, fingers to your neck Sirens in the sea and the street at the wreck Neighbours all show, none that I know Offering their big teeth bold lies hope Fishbowl face, mouth so strange I've never seen a person act in such off ways Limbs gone limp, eyes still twitch Shiny little bullet all you wanted was a lick Nurse in black, hair ties back Premature funeral name on a plaque Breathe is dim, living is slim Chapel bells ring when the reaper turns grim You look good in your cotton gown They're trying real hard to get the lead all out The sun still moves, I think it should stop There's gotta be a way around natures cruel clock Change God's mind, religious all night Too many pages and we don't have time Prayers and thoughts, prayers and thoughts They only say that when they think hopes lost...

[neonatenecromancer]

Traci Brimhall

[neonatenecromancer]

I woke up this morning the richest man alive, I poured me some black coffee and I kissed my lovely wife, I walked out of the door yelling I would be home soon, And darling don't you worry I'll be poor again by noon, First I bought some breakfast for a woman on the street, And I told her to buy breakfast for each person that she sees, Went to the supermarket and bought every grocery, Then I bought the store itself and made each item in it free, I went to the doctors to ask to foot the bill, The receipt had lots of zeros but it wasn't a big deal because then I bought the hospital, when the doctors asked me why, I told them no one on this planet should pay to stay alive, Then I bought the banks and gave dollars out like candy, Cause Lord knows when a dollar bill could really come in handy, You might need something to write on, Or something dry to burn, But a dollar isn't something we should all be forced to earn, I'd buy my wife some flowers from the local corner store, and pay each customers tuition before I walked out the door, Then I'd write a check to buy each university, And give out cats at graduation in lieu of a degree, I'd walk through the door with the flowers in hand, My would ask me how it felt to be a wealthy man, It didn't last me, It's not even noon, But I spent my last few dollars buying her the moon.

[neonatenecromancer]

Widows of Normandy

I'm on my sixth civil war documentary, And I can't take anymore US history, Is it the adderall or what your leaving did to me, Would things go differently if we, If we were eighteen sixty-five, Two states north of the Mason-Dixon Line, Would you love me in a different time, Would you return from war to pick more fights, If I wrote four years of letters hoping you weren't gone forever, Would we grow old together, Would you treat me better, I read an article of women in forty-three They left their fears at the door of the factory, I heard the interviews from the widows of Normandy, Who still can't afford to sleep, if we, If we were nineteen forty-five, And we've just turned that one last flag white, Praise God that you're still alive, Would you return from war to pick more fights, If I wrote four years of letters hoping you weren't gone forever, Would we grow old together, Would you treat me better, Delusion, insanity, lost love, Life isn′t a period drama, The end was the bloodshed, the trauma, the hardship, The end was enclosed in a casket, At the hand, break the bones of another man, At the foot of a God and his ugly plans, So obsessed with the past out of selfishness, If we were, if we were nineteen forty-five, So convinced there's still a winning side, You wouldn't′t love me in a different time, You'd return from war to pick more fights, One-hundred years of letters, War still rages on forever, So human, so untethered, You won′t treat me better, You can't treat me better, Would we grow old together, Would you treat me better?