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 Apr 2017 David Swinden
wordvango
becoming a poet since I read more
than I write
becoming a human
since I feel more
of others
becoming a man I stand tall in peace
becoming another
I hope for
I conclude that I hate the world today
Everything people are and what they say
They speak no kind words by gesture or sound
There is no common decency around
People are not nice like they were before
I hate that there's no respect anymore
We are seriously lacking dignity
To a human race no affinity
We're all offended or aggravated
Whilst we act so cold and calculated
There's very few out there who won't pretend
Everyone's an enemy to a friend
We are ultimately in regression
Forcing ourselves into an oppression
Like we've gone back to the days of the cave
Not so the Stone Age ways should we enslave
Is it all about tearing someone apart?
Does anyone have love left in their heart?
Don't mean to be unkind
But if you wouldn't mind
I'd like to step off the planet now please
We are giving such little guarantees
I will take you with me
If you would like to see
An end to this ****** scrutinising show
Time to leave ~ to somewhere *only we know
Anyone have a TARDIS laying around they're not using at all? I was told to ask for The Doctor?
Many a song has been written about the girl
Stating how the sweet love of two will unfurl
How beautiful she is outside and under cover
She means the world to the one who loves her
There's a song,
That beautifully describes your cognitive thrill
It's by a band called Cypress Hill
And it goes,
"Insane in the membrane
Insane in the brain"

Because if you think I'm masquerading as two
There's something not quite right about you
Yes, there was a closeness of friendship new
But that didn't mean there was anything true
There was none of that other business mind
I think you'll see I'm not that way inclined
Your jealousy and spitefulness has to conclude
Your insanity is venomous and beyond rude
There's nothing, I repeat nothing, wise about you
When you present so many lies about you
You wouldn't know how to be a child of the Lord
You wouldn't know diddly about The Word
You can sit in church and praise all day long
It don't make you a Christian singing that song
Any less than sitting in a garden on my ****
Makes me blossom, I'm not the **** rosebush
You need to be locked away and kept an eye on
That acidity burning inside is what you'll die on
Your dissecting of the human soul by half
Now has me shaking my head
At how sad you are instead
It's not funny, *but you gotta laugh
Ranting poetry is not my style this is more of a pisstake of a true situation. More like a therapeutic release. Please indulge me on this one as *poetic licence*
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