Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member

Members

OpenWorldView
Mono Chrome World
17/F/Stars    The stars are dust yet beautiful, you were dust and you were my star.
robotical world
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License

Poems

Mateuš Conrad Nov 2015
i wish i could ******* like a stephen king once in a while, but then my imagination sometimes gets a kick in the **** from delusional thinking, this the antidote to "a lack of imagination," this the artistic equivalence to a magician's trick, the illusionary works of sawing a woman in half; the many times i spilled some whisky on it... it happens... it happens so automatically that it's sometimes terrifying; now to find that cognitive anchor... ah, here it is: i.*

th- following l-tt-rs hav- b--om- -isabl--

e
c
d
3 / ω


on my k-yboar-,
h-n- th- hyph-nation.

p-rhaps to slow m- -own,
or what-v-r r-ason th-r- is to it,
-onstru-ting a n-w -nigma?

so th- r-ason w-str-n so-i-ty is
-xp-ri-n-ing
a flux of pr-matur- --m-ntia
is --u to population siz-

an- th- young on-s b-ing for---
into a -ompl-x worl-
of s-rious maths an s-rious -h-mistry:
so mu-h th-ory
an- th-n only giv-n bor--om among
banaliti-s of r-p-at r-p-at -
-ompl-x th-ori-s
to b- thrown into a worl- of -istill-ri-s

whisk-y an- vo-ka typos of
form-r -ompl-xiti-s
r-quiring p-rfum-s to say th- l-ast... -st-rs:
sw--t aromati- -h-mistry.

but from th- -r-am worl-:
1. paint s-otlan- with 3 r-- strip-s
2. paint -nglan- with 3 blu- strip-s
3. op-n a win- bottl- with a mat-hsti-k
    an- fin- -arth in th- bottl-: mu--y
    grit, soil.
4. ov-r h-ar talk of my -at-gorisation
    of th- anglo-slav; as a -hat up lin-.

o-- thing is... it's only th- lin-
      3 / £
             E
               D
                 C

t--hnophob- m-, th- oth-r 3 works though...
on th- mobil-:
                        7 8 9
                        4 5 6
                        1 2 3.
Naash Oct 2017
I wrote you a note, during the time I had to vote
Sent out articles in the newspapers
Broadcasted on the ZBC, SABC and BBC
Pointless
I remain.
0 to the people and one more point to you world.
So I sent you letters via postman pac, after devouring a big mac
You completely ignored that poetic pac, Never even got my juice back
And that
Makes me
A LOT
Bit angry.

Frustration divided by a nation is the equation, You have turned me into Lady Lunatic.

Let’s get something straight,
I ain’t done with you yet.
Not when my momma still being cheated on,
Fake Gods still being relied on,
Women still being beaten on
And now I’m still alienated in the land I’m living on.
NO!
Difference still matters in races, when will we get over these phases?
I mean a pastor spraying DOOM in our faces
For the dollar that he chases. Ironic ain’t it?
When they supposed to save us from it.
Where is the victory that you promised, times of Moses
When our footprints escaped Egypt?
Now don’t get me wrong.
I’m not indirectly attacking
The one who gave me the gift of writing
Nah, He’s been good to me.
Dragging me out of the mess you put me in.

Once upon a time you were the Garden of Eden
But this heat in the city of gold
Tells me we  are approaching the doom of *****
With executions of ASSAD and SADAM
And Eves tricking Adams
Please don’t tell me,
That once again we were sold a dream
When they said everything will be okay
.....
since you never replied world, this is the last one.