Sadism joined with narcissim
psychopathy and Machiavellianism.

This is the makeup of the TROLL.

They are not just a nuisance. They
can latch onto innocents and try to
corrupt them in startlingly inhumane ways.

Look up the personality profile of
the internet troll. THEY ARE HORRIBLE PEOPLE.

If you encounter one my advice to you is to ignore and block it. Be vigilant as it may start a new account and try still further harassment.
Be aware of key words, phrases and ideas your troll has played with before. He/she/it will ALWAYS want to let you know somehow that it is BACK. Look up the traits of a troll. If you see an individual taunting others for no reason it may be a troll. Most of all TRUST YOUR SPIRITUAL EYES.
Your gut. If you even have a suspicion don't engage.

EVEN IF IT POSTS A WRITE ABOUT YOU, DON'T READ IT. DON'T READ OR COMMENT IT'S WRITES ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE. If it doesn't get narcissistic "sample" it will move on.

Trolls like to "play dumb". Come off as mentally challenged or very young people. Or as the very devil HIMSELF. They have delusional ideas of grandeur so will often use Lucifer or God in their poet names.
This has been my experience anyway.

I am being stalked by one currently.
This is a message to him/her/it:

I AM IGNORING AND BLOCKING YOU. I KNOW YOUR TRICKS AND YOU CAN'T FOOL ME. GOODBYE.



PLEASE BE AWARE AND VIGILANT POETFRIENDS. GOD BLESS YOU!

♡ Catherine

Tonight good Duncan, friend and guest
This dagger shall pass through thy breast
I shall be king as was the prophecy and belief
Told by the hags upon the heath

Unsexed like them, my Lady chides me still
For my kindness and uncertain will
Even as my dagger drips once more
And blood from noble Banquo stains the floor

Now in blood so far I'm steeped
Only can I wade more deep

But this horizon leads no longer to infinity
Steadily it closes in on me
Slow but marching all the same
Toward the hill at Dunsinane

And though those warning words I scorned
Not all men are of woman born
Thus proves the prophesy no lie
Live by the sword and therefore by it die

.
*your words formed in heaven
and then to leave
pained in hell
then to resist

on going, the way turned to bend
in the end, the end couldn't be seen
then continued to move,
that is to say celestial

words within too many words, make a wreath of the words,
maybe tell a fairytale,
simple words have lost in melody, tune
steadfast sight of the beautiful seen, mystic in the midst of the road

alone, then after alone, painted the portrait of thy
joy of life music,
weaving the words, craving a poetry
comes at a time, loss at untimely

maybe born in dreams
within too many words, a few perches into soul
to create forms, what an amazing ties!
ah, this poetry book has lost in poetry!
..
@Musfiq us shaleheen

graves upon graves
lie within these pools
of black blood rising to overcome
to swallow the chains
and binds
while blind eyes stare blankly
into the ravenous face of death
bewarethese mortal coils that tie
but soon are released to emptiness
and the further emaciation of
tumescent lips
drops of sweet wine
spatter
on the pallid visage of
life eternal

outside the wind howls
and gnaws at the corners
of the old wooden house

inside the fire roars
and eats the trees memories
in hot flickering bites

we sit at the kitchen  table
with mugs of steaming goodness
and chatter about the news

unthinking of those
who cower in windswept corners
cold to the bone,
remembering a forgotten warmth
of heart, soul and body....

the wind  howls,
my heart aches
at my own government's  
stupidity....

and the cold reamain cold
and the homeless numbers grow....
and compassion becomes a useless word
like the mewling of a kitten

Do you ponder this life
The meaning of it all
Why we exist to suffer
I do, I always have to

The pain of going on
Dragging through day by day
Wondering does it improve
Will hope come to rescue me

But alas, here I will write
My healing, my feeling
Through the darkest, to the light
Just a poet, nothing more

By: Sverre G. Holter & Digital Asylum*

I|

I am a man. I was put on
Earth to bleed from my hands.
Work is my virtue. I only sleep well
If I'm exhausted.
Your food and shelter is my gain.
My sweat is the salt on our table.

II|

I *am a man, but also child
with a paper-mache heart and
sandcastle dreams, a child wishing
for later tides while we play
splashing in and out of the waves
but the tide always comes,
and castles crumble, and we
we tell ourselves that there's no need for fear
because we will build stronger walls
tomorrow

III|

Today is our day though
Let us work at love.
Let us play with love.
Let us dance until our feet
Blister and we collapse
Laughing into each other's arms in equal fatigue.
All I want is you.
All I have is you.
All I've never lost is love.
It is our costliest toy;
Unbroken

IV|

Unbroken it may be for now
yet the time will come, as with all good things
where life and love will come to its bitter end
our lives will have ran their course
and in that moment, we will know and be known
we will laugh our last laugh
we will drink and be merry
knowing we loved and were loved
and as the water comes washing in
we still stand behind walls of sand
and we will face the tide together

*unafraid

for Brendan,
because you asked me to,
I wrote a love poem for the machinery.
an ode to the efficiency,
of well scheduled maintenance.

they only hummed in response,
but I imagined it was in appreciation
so I continued,

I wrote sonnets concerning,
proper wiring configurations,
and stand alone power grids. 
things that seemed important,
to things that could never feel.

they only hummed in response, 
but I imagined it was in appreciation
so I continued,

I looked them over, and over again.
neat little rows of grey metal boxes
computers from the days of old.

I wanted to tell them about Sherman Alexie.
I wanted to tell them about Flannery O'Connor.
I wanted to tell them about Ray Bradbury.
Instead I cried, & tried to cut the building's power.

they only hummed in response.

Dear time,

We once got along.
Peas in a pod with
Symbiotic stature.

Now we take our paces.
Make our cruel remarks
And give tears away
Before siestas.

hi! i'm a computer chip
yes. my name is HAL
satan downloads to my brain
but i am in control

i am working for the B.E.A.S.T.
Big Brother's database
watch me take my orders
watch me interface

there is no reversing this
locked to the terminal
i have lost all.sense of self
and all my hope as well

i am just a microchip
with no will of my own
i am just a barcode
made of flesh and bone

yes. i have been branded
on my forehead and my hand
i gave my soul to lucifer
i didn't understand

i work for the anthill
the anthill is my home
i am the collective mind
i am just a drone

i work for the anthill
i gave up my dream
i work for the anthill

I WORK FOR THE MACHINE


soulsurvivor
(c) 5/22/2013

No kiln yet fired
could ever bake
a ceramic as elegant,
as (yes) beautiful,
as (I can only guess) pleasant to hold
as yourself.

The bayed back feeling that once was you
Boiling down the ethereal , in differences
I cross the twi's lights knowing I will be
here . . . for a thousand years

This is astound  , no reason is clear
Where the smell of grass comes to pass
You remember a kiss that won't disappear
. . . . . . beyond a thousand years

Tuesday . . . dragging the clouds away
Hearing the voices that were never there
Telling me to hang my ethereals out to dry
It may take a thousand years

Cold hearted orb dressed in white satin
embrace the shadows you cast across
Tell all the Knights lacking they cannot win
Not in a thousand years