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528 · Nov 2016
Handcuffed Fetus.
Alahzoooom Nov 2016
******* hate
It's ******* fate
*******
To scenes of ****
To this date
I can't relate
To growing rates
Of things of late.

I want to strangle
Every angel
Who sings to me
And says I'm able
To change my mind
And live in peace,
**** my ****
For my "relieve".

Their tempting song
Is flat out wrong
It needs more gong
And further on
I move for it
To be removed,
For peace and love
Are absurdly shrewd.

We are born with hands
Yet may not steal,
We are born with hate
We may not feel,
We're born of ****
And *** appeal
And yet it's wrong
To cope a feel.

An able body
And sound mind
Are all you need
To have a time
The weak are here
To make up rhymes
And serve the strong
For the rest of time.

Are you confused?
So you choose,
You stare at words
And see no truth.
You hide with morals
Beliefs and quarrels
Instead of realizing
You are mortal.

Slit my throat
It's worth a joke,
A little laugh
Is all I had
To give away
Or ask to take,
I made too many
Dumb mistakes.

A raspy cackle
Unlocks my shackle
And sends me on
Into his arms,
The sun rolls up
And tilts a cup
And spills the
King's cheap wine.
There's no point to note, when all that I've noted goes unnoted. No one notes any notes belonging to unnoted notes!

EDIT: in the 4th stanaza I changed "yet may not feel" to "may not steal". I didn't mean to type "feel" the first time. My bad!
405 · Aug 2016
Cosmological•><•
Alahzoooom Aug 2016
Cameras watching all around
Around around, they watch you frown.
They watch you sigh they watch you cry,
When you want to die and set aside
All the things that make you sad,
All the things you think are bad.

Eyes blinking, peering down.
Down down, they watch these clowns.
They watch us scream they watch us dream
All the wisdom and hate as it enter-tweens.
When poets raise their fists in the air,
And "Please be civil", bigots declare.

These orbs, crystal clear,
The very vision we all hold dear.
When we laugh and when we cry,
When all we do is yearn to die,
The eyes lift up and make it clear,
Our struggle is the only reason we're here.
One of my first pieces.
322 · Aug 2016
Rot.
Alahzoooom Aug 2016
I put the flame to my skin,
Just to know to feel again.
Forgive me Father, for I will sin,
Fill the glass up to it's rim.

I joke and laugh to set aside,
The truth that I just want to die.
There's no hope, no reason why,
No words to form a sound reply.

The moon and stars, the plain above,
Contains no solace, joy or love.
On this rock, we work and strive,
Knowing that we can't survive.

Dear Heavenly Father, hear our cries,
Know that we poor few have tried.
We've sinned and sinned to set aside,
The truth that we don't want to die.
291 · Jan 2017
Cupiditas
Alahzoooom Jan 2017
A day in which the Sun is bleak,
A field filled with rotting meat.
There's simply no scent to compare
To how this pile reeked
Of morbid blood, and guts and gore,
Cities sentenced to rot evermore
Between pillars of four that stand strong and tall
From which the greatest demons fall,
And lay upon this giant mass
On a stone floor cracking with dead grass.

Perhaps this means to tell a tale,
Of how these epic heroes failed
And ran with legs protecting tails,
Helmets cracked by giant hail
That railed through their wooden shields
Thusly bringing them to heel,
And leaving them to turn to ash
Of battles and wars ages past.
No ashes present, but instead broken limbs,
The moldy, decayed flesh of imps, who
Stupidly yearned for another life
And were wrought to rot because of it.

These men who lie here deserved to die,
For they knew not the limit of the sky
That holds us from our precious Sun,
A flame to hot to bear to heart
And sentenced to a distant place
To warm an entire race of ungrateful apes
Who he watches as the earth is *****,
Her skirt ripped off and turn asunder
By her twisted children's hunger
For money and a younger face.
  
Broken swords stick from the dirt,
Whispering of their masters' hurt,
Stained with blood of fallen foes
That the ground soaked up beneath our toes
And thus became this horrid land,
Borders bearing no lines or flags
But instead the mark of a Demon's hand
The same ten fingers of you and I,
And that's why these poor souls had died
And now they rest beneath the sky
That they once dreamed that they would fly
But now they're just a giant pile
Punished for their stupid guile.

A wish of everlasting, of the dragon scales.
To desire un-desire, what a human tale..
The trees of this place stand broken and charred
Swaying gently in the breeze as giant bars
To keep these imprisoned souls still,
So the forces of nature can **** and ****
Their spirits again, for wanting to live,
But this torture has a gift to give
For they got what they want, these stupid souls,
Their immortal pile is now their home
Everlasting agony upon this stone,
A place where the Sun has never shown.
290 · Oct 2016
Dlt.
Alahzoooom Oct 2016
We look into the universe,
A mind and soul we can't traverse.
It's meaning displayed within a verse,
The poet rests inside a hearse.

A beating heart that we all share,
A love, a purpose, yet no one cares.
Warmth within this plain is rare,
Cries aren't real if no one's there.

The only thing we have is pain,
A common trait in this domain
I cry and scream into the rain,
Water pounds against my brain.

Gunshots ring throughout the street,
Our massive heart has one less beat,
The world still soars beneath our feet,
A single number to delete.
290 · Dec 2016
A Rose Garden.
Alahzoooom Dec 2016
A road with grass on either side,
It's over grown, and there to hide
The filthy dirt trapped underneath,
The bugs and plants who fail to reach
The asphalt trail, a path to Sin.
The road that I shall ride again.

A road with trees on every side,
A tunnel of leafs, a shadowy slide.
Roaring down the twists and turns,
Souls rush forward, yearning to burn.
In buckled seats, a group of kids.
Ready to do it all again.

A head with ears on either side,
Who knows what mysteries lay inside.
**** and ******, greed and lust.
With all these thoughts they're just a husk
Of things they want, and things they feel.
Dragged into the world beneath their heels.

A store with things down every isle
We force a twisted, fake-ed smile
And buy and buy and buy and buy
Never looking into why
We buy and sell ourselves so much,
From our hearts and souls we're out of touch

An inch within our heart resides,
A single inch, or else we die.
It's all we have, and all we are,
Yet not as valuable as an inch of yard.
We **** ourselves too soon for too little,
Life is just one stupid riddle.

A meaning or purpose you'll not find
Even with infinite amounts of time,
For there is none, and there it is
The meaning that no God will give.
In absence of truth, a new truth is made,
The very shovel that will dig our graves.
My mother said I broke her heart.. but it was my integrity that was important. Is that so selfish? It sells for so little, but it's all we have left in this place. It is the very last inch of us.. But within that inch, we are free.

— V for Vendetta.
264 · Nov 2016
Garden.
Alahzoooom Nov 2016
A song of fire blares through the town,
The patient flowers stand their ground.
The sky turns red and picks up the breeze,
Violence ensues beneath the trees.
The oak soaks up blood as it's done before,
The leafs look out to the peaceful shore.
Boots slam the flowers into the mud,
Hatefully implanting seeds of love.

The dust has settled, a new flag waves,
New flowers grow to enjoy the sun's rays.
Growing from the husks of fallen friends,
From ashes the flowers will flourish again.
Before there is peace, death is renewed,
A roar of the ocean starts a new feud.
Water floods the war-torn soil,
Releasing the flowers of their mortal coil.

Walls and roofs are molded from water,
The nameless bones of long dead fathers,
A flag once replaced now rests in tatters,
Borders once fought over no longer matter.
Time has passed, new flowers bloom,
From dirt enriched by another's doom.
Their stems curl around ancient ribs,
Just to be torn away and replaced again.

We all have pedals, common or rare,
From the tips of our toes to the end of our hair,
We're the flowers and trees who died last year,
Who grew again to persevere
The trials of life that we all live,
The blood and tears that we all give.
We ride the same coaster of death and rebirth,
We grow strong and tall before we're stomped to the dirt.
What does your life mean to you?
239 · Aug 2016
Spread the Gospel.
Alahzoooom Aug 2016
Dust and ash for skin,
The bombs will rain again,
****** children and their kin,
So terrorism will not win.

Fight and **** for peace,
Dream while they can't sleep.
Not a sound nor little peep,
As the tanks roll down the street.

Dust and ash for skin,
Christians commit sin.
Rockets screech a prayer
Before killing all the people there.

Despair for the Lord,
March and sing His word,
Fight for Him in His stead,
To ensure his children's death.
217 · Nov 2016
-1.
Alahzoooom Nov 2016
-1.
We look into the universe,
A mind and soul we can't traverse
It's meaning displayed within a verse
The poet's dead inside a hearse.

A gift, a heart that we all share.
A love and purpose, yet no one cares.
Crying means nothing if no one's there,
Love within this place is rare.

The only thing we have is pain,
A common trait in this domain.
I cry and scream into the rain,
Water pounds against my brain.

A gun shoot rings throughout the streets,
Our massive heart has one less beat.
The world still soars beneath our feet,
A single number to delete..
There is no truth. You will find nothing here you don't wish to see.

Ω
213 · Aug 2016
Title I.
Alahzoooom Aug 2016
Wind tore through her bones.
She could only think of home.
Looking down to ground,
Her thoughts began to drown
The sound.

Of horrible death,
The sound of terrible regret.
The crowd that wanted her best,
The rapid heaving of her breast
And yet.

She could still hear.
The sounds she could not bear.
Her heart as it began to tear
While looking at all the people there.
The fear.

Began to settle in her mind,
She had thought of this all the time.
There would be no pain if she did it right,
But the thought still gave her quite a fright.
Her fists clenched tight.

She was gone from this world,
Her mind would constantly whirl.
Of what would be when she was gone
Wondering if she was wrong.
So long.
The very piece I submitted to request an invitation.

— The End —