Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 May 2014 Mad Dog
Marshal Gebbie
Fathered by a fantasy of ideal expectation
Nurtured by the fallacy of promisory’s sought,
Living out the lies of appearance as priority
Content in the hollowness of misconceptions taught.
Wafting through the days in a cloud of preconceptions
Drifting in a lifetime of falsehoods rendered loud,
Teetered on the brink of a precipice, precarious,
Arguing malfeasance in empty tones of proud.

Blinkered to collapse of society in freefall
Unseeing of the seething fraud which permeates the globe,
Blind to the bombing and the gunshots in the avenues
Sadly unseeing of unsightly flanks disrobed.
Perilously cloistered in a crowd of like admirers
Jostling for position in this flimsy house of cards.
Sipping pink champagne in a plume of sick pretentiousness
Ignoring words of warning with a haughty disregard.

Slipping to a flagfall in a shocking fall of failure
Slipping to a flagfall in a pall of choking dust,
Slipping to a flagfall in the hues of sad surrender
Sagging to oblivion in a staining sea of rust.*


Marshalg
Auckland NZ
May 1 2014
 May 2014 Mad Dog
v V v
There is a certain misery bred
into children of the night,
most notably the 20,000 a month
born under a full moon,
a rare combination of being born
in the dark of night, yet under
bright white moonlight,
a mere 1/100th of the total born
each month.

If you are one of us you know it.

The moon is alive and effeminate,
pulls on us, pushes on us,
at least on us who call her mother,
and though she shines her sweet shine
her soul is as cold and indifferent as
the belly of a black hole,
and we will war with her influence
all the days of our life.

Chaos,
compulsions,
sorrows and sins
our constant companions.

For she alone
knows the effort it takes
for us to live ...

          The anxious tide within my head
           was put there by the moon,
           the ocean too, its waves of blue,
           respond to what she says


All our days a high wire act
where everyone looks on with
eyes wide and mouths agape,

and when the night comes
we are alone,
and in fear,
and the end of us is always near,
and our numbers will not cease,
her bright light will grant no peace.

she is a GRAND MULTIPARA

and INFINITUS GRAVIDA

while we are beggars and thieves,
tired as hell, asleep when awake
and awake when asleep,
swimming in brain matter
madness
and churning recollections
like a duck on a lake,
calm on the surface,
fast as hell underneath.

In the end
it’s the crazy debate
that brings us down,

          To find ourselves we lose our souls,
           to lose our pain we lose control
           to find the norm there is no peace,
           to lose it all she will not cease


The pendulum swings back and forth  
and there is no rest,

The ***** is out for blood,

and she pulls on us
and she pushes on us

          The push of truth, the pull of lies,
           the pull of hell that push denies.
           the push of God, the pull of sin,
           the pull of what we push will win


unless of course we break
and bleed out,

but she does not care,

there are many more
to take our place
and they like us
will find no rest.
Of an estimated 11 million people born on Earth each month, a mere 20,000 of them are born under a full moon....
GRAND MULTIPARA,   (a woman having birthed 5 or more children)
INFINITUS GRAVIDA   (infinitely pregnant)
 May 2014 Mad Dog
Helen
I've been blocked
well an good
by some obtuse
butthurt mindfuck

cant believe my luck!

but please unblock me
long enough
to delete your unread
message (so I can clean
up your verbal Diarrhea)

It's annoying
to me
as its messing up
the aesthetics
of my screen
thank you for your cooperation and Have a nice day ;)
He needed, he wanted her
All those things she'd do
Did everything to please him
But she never could love

The times she took the pain
Of the darkness deep inside
Allowed him all that he wanted
But she never could love

Just to be his plaything
Her body taken at his mercy
The slap of his hand on bare flesh
But she never could love

The times he pounded inside her
Releasing his need deep within
How she craved to feel it
But she never could love

Each scar would be a memory
Each lover would be a need
Each day she'd just carry on
But she never could love
Copyright Chris Smith 2014
 Feb 2014 Mad Dog
r
Let me be…
 Feb 2014 Mad Dog
r
Let me be the step that guides your dance.
Let me be your hope not left to chance.
Let me be the wind that glides your wings.
Let me be your snow that fills the springs.
Let me be the fire that gives you light.
Let me be your dream that comes at night.
Let me be the mountain to your plain.
Let me be your stream that fills with rain.
Let me be the heat that makes you sigh.
Let me be your answer to the why.
Let me be the ocean to your tide.
Let me be the one that’s by your side.
And I will.

r ~ 5Feb14
In response to Nat's request to warm up my winter pen and step out of the cold for a spell.
 Feb 2014 Mad Dog
Harry J Baxter
nothing in our pockets but dirt we picked up along the way
she carries a locket with her
and it’s empty inside
she says she is waiting for the perfect moment
to fit between the fake gold
old souls in foolish bodies
smiling because it was all we had
he drinks in the woods after school
because the lesson plan never quite clicked
so he’s all sheets in the wind
as the time bomb ticks
one looks for the love she was
convinced she never deserved to give herself
they are all looking for the next fix of life
experiencing the world in ounces, milliliters, milligrams
shouting protests into the mirror
he is running away from reality
until he finds the life which suits him best
he flinches away from touch and contact
with eyes glimmering with eye drops
nothing in our pockets
but the baggage we picked up along the way
 Nov 2013 Mad Dog
Abbie Argo
the worst that could happen?!

a meteor could hit the earth
at this very moment
and stop me dead in my tracks

speaking of tracks
two trains could collide
right now and cause
mass destruction

really, it's just a terribly inconvenient time
i couldn't possibly-

the black plague,
the bird flu,
terrorists,
poltergeists!

so there really is no reason for me to
go over there and interrupt him
with so many dangers lurking about-

nausea
heart burn
indigestion
upset stomach

and oh, god strike me
dead if i must even imagine
what else!

the four horsemen
of the apocalypse
could decide to
come upon us right now,

and you want me
to go up to him and
say hello?!
honestly, you really must
get your priorities in order.

(but the very worst that could happen?
he could say no.)

— The End —