Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Mar 2016 Viseract
Brent Kincaid
He’s a spoiled rich kid
In the land of the one percent.
He feels no remorse for
Those who can’t pay their rent.
He’s popular with fools
And a bunch of toothless boozers
All the while laughing
And calling them all losers.

The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.

He won’t be held to the fire
Half-truths work for him just fine.
He’d prefer you not inquire.
Nobody makes him toe the line.
He is paraphrasing fascism
Like he’s the one who invented it.
It’s like Germany in 1930s
They could have easily prevented it.

The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.

Here’s the way to make it
Work the best for a new dictatorship.
You take the populace along
On your traveling one-man ego trip
After your party has published
Scurrilous big lies about the opposition
Then spread a lot more rumors
Which gives the voters their ammunition.

The favorite son of the GOP
Says nothing with specificity.
He just makes vague promises
He has no idea what his platform is.
He only knows if he stirs up hate
He will win certain delegates.
 Mar 2016 Viseract
Star Gazer
Necessities
Pessimistically
Things keeping me alive

Necessities
Optimistically
Things keeping me going

Necessities
Optimistically and Pessimistically
You

Things keeping me alive and going
You

Things that make me see beauty
You

Things that keep me sane
You

Things that make me feel bad for using the word things
You.

Person I always think about before I go to sleep
You

Person I miss the most
You
I watched her smile bounce off,
The reflection on that last teardrop.
Her lips twisted in a reticent scoff,
The grains in the hourglass, begging to stop.
She  looked deeply into my eyes,
Willing every last ounce of truth inside.
While her sensitive heart tried,
Not to take me on a traumatic ride.
I see the glance at the screen,
And her melancholic sigh at the tune.
Trying hard to forget what they mean,
Seeking solace in the rays of the moon.
She remembers the touch of your hand,
When I softly take hers in mine.
How you held each and every strand,
For that she unintentionally pines.
She doesn't want it to be true,
But it always comes back to you.
We took walks by the lake,
Tossing stones into the blue abyss.
The memories I tried to make,
She always seemed to miss.
I looked deeply into her eyes,
While she returned it with an almost apologetic sigh.
The remnants of much stronger ties,
A bond not reflected in mine.
She doesn't want it to be true,
But she's getting closer to realising.
It's something which she knew,
Its effect on me, no less paralysing.
The touch of her hand was tender,
And she smiles softly at me.
Knowing I could not mend her
Heart, something I should've seen.
I look at myself in the mirror,
With her standing by my side.
I wondered what the image was for her,
And was answered when she barely tried.
She can't fight it any longer,
No matter how much she wishes it wasn't true.
No, neither of our hearts were that bit stronger,
As always, it came back to you.
As always, she came back to you.
 Mar 2016 Viseract
cassidy
I've never been in love
but I imagine it's kind of like
skiing on a glassy lake
in the fresh July sunlight.

Or the bellyache you get
from laughing for hours
uninhibited
head thrown back, eyes watering.

Or the thud of the ball
on the worn hardwood floor,
the soft swish of the net
when a shot meets its target.

Love is like a lot of things,
and darling, you're a symphony
of sounds and smells and tastes and feelings
I could never tire of.

So maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe I have been in love
with you, and this world, and everything in it

Because love is like everything
and nothing at once.
It's defined by its undefinability.

c.l.c
She's a lost girl in a lost world,
but I know what she's tryna find.
Some call it music,
I call it never land.
Where we can take flight and don't have to ever land.
You can stay young forever if you follow your heart.
Know a 9-5 tears the soul apart,
Keep it safe you can keep your soul in art.
We can't live a lie, we would rather die, if I don't live for this I am not alive.
I don't deserve the breathe, I don't deserve the steps, don't deserve the criticism or compliments.
This is who I am, this is what I do.
Outside of never land I don't have a clue.
They call us lost but this is the place where I was found
Take my hand Wendy we're home now.
Credit given to Abstract for the bulk of this, this is some of the most beautiful lyricism I've ever seen. Thanks for the inspiration.
Is the line under
the signifier: a thing
not self-originating:

And the I that takes
a pleasure in watching
it identifies with the self
watching it happily identify

This representation of the
self in verbal and then
ideal form to be faster,

Faster, faster, because
Mommy is near and I have
wings and can ******
you with my bare hands

It's an understanding
in an unconventional way:
To say that the utterance
gives way to strength
I sense a pattern
 Mar 2016 Viseract
MC
Hey Dad,
 Mar 2016 Viseract
MC
I  know how much you never wanted me
You don't know that I know
Or maybe you do and that's why you're so distant
As much as I want to I could never fix it
It hurts to think that you favor them more
That they're yours and pure, through marriage even more
I was a surprise, a mistake; unexpected
21 years later, a relationship formed and weary
Straining and wearing thin
Maybe I'll never know what it's like to be close
Maybe I'll never see what a healthy relationship is
You'll always be a hero to me
I'll always be your greatest sin
Next page