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kenye Dec 2013
She's no
Fragile
*******
Flower

She'll plant
Seeds
in
sanity

And grow
Through
Telepathic
Psychopathy

Passed
the
past
too rough
for diamonds

What didn't **** her
made her outpower
her ego

And she sent her soul
To cocktease
my cognitive construct
in haunting hallucinations

The girl next door
frantically feeling me up
via shared consciousness

She
suppressed
this obsession
So she's always
locked in my mind
like a ***** secret

She holds
the key
like a
cuckold

constricting roots
to hold me down
to Earth
with
no
release

She's
a wild
*******
flower
Miguel Jul 2018
In time we stand still forgetting the memories
That burden the frontier with poison and tragedy
Lest we forget that the deed had been signed
By prospectors and cowboys who’ve long since died
Aiming a loaded shell towards eradication
An idea that precedes psychopathy in terms of petition
Yet ponders so freely to children so willing to point them the barrel and fire such rounds

I urgently take the bounty for the hunting of the buffalo
Using their skulls for declination, a sturdy stronghold
Yet deep in heart I realize that it spawns back to devils
That pay only to spoil their countless fruits of survival
The cause paints our flag a brilliant blue
The blood breeds red and helps assimilate too
From their ponytails, against remorse, I could yank off their heads
And perhaps repay the herd of bison for their dead

We danced mountain songs naked under pale blue moonlight
Imitating their gestures in the style of caricature
The stars glistening, reflecting in pools of gory mucus
The rotting carcasses that attract forest vultures
Which we willingly hunt and devour without hesitance

A rack of scalps hung from the duster, cloth sodden with their fluids
Marking migration patterns on various maps to follow and stalk with
Here we sing to the villages of which we’ve burned down
Hoping that God, in His grace, could forgive such savage hounds
The calls of doves forfeit an olive branch
Which I gleefully wave just as they have
My own Trojan horse stitched together with leather
That wasn’t dried enough, and now radiates a stench that reminds us of their innards

I’ve slaughtered and mangled all over this place
Made worse by their stories of which I desecrate
Publishing such influent texts that examine the earlier beds
Of which they rose, so little prose, such daft fools with stone age tools
Crops yield only ******* food made for the feeding of the poor
Discarding the rest of them as bait or our personal ******

“I weep for the white hand that cared there for me!
To wrap me in blankets and help me to feed
The weak child in infancy cooing so sweet
Not knowing they’d have him killed in his sleep”
Annihilation fits best at the source, this genocide funded by the Master of Greater Deed and Good
The weary dead, the weary live, the weary now stay in places we couldn’t stand to be in

A gift that gives only twice, an upstart arch that cradles this land so warmly, inspiring us to embrace our homes
The promise of freedom which notions an equality we could find only in remembrance of scattered bones
The lawmen there, they never repent, they’ve lived all their lives and they never forget of their deeds, which secretly brings a perverse enjoyment none other recieve
Unless you count rapists and murderous men which tally their targets and hold out the heavy heads of victims in satchels and bags
A shame we now see them as monuments honored so swiftly, decorated with golden plaques
Please leave some flowers in the mass grave I was buried in, somewhere in Arizona, it wouldn’t hurt to sense the illusion of fresh air
A torso of tooth and rib and a dried clump of hair
Look down on your works, ye lowly, and despair!
Asominate  Jan 2018
Insanity
Asominate Jan 2018
What's the meaning to begin
And continue till the end
The answers are hidden in my fading soul.

They are staring right at me
Why won't anyone believe?
As I'm looking out my window,
They wave goodbye.

Everything is said and done,
Everyone as had their fun,
Time to make my exit from this fairytale.
My departure was foreseen
From the very beginning,
Living life live of full sanity, goodbye.

Hello me,
It's nice to meet you,
Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
It said:
"Goodbye, my dear sweetheart,
It was so nice to meet you,
Oh my, we haven't talked in quite a while!"

Insanity,
The weight of the air is torture.
Psychopathy,
Breathing's not natural anymore
Insanity,
The illusion of ignorance
Captivity,
Forever doing a puppet's dance.

Insanity,
It's like i'm floating on air
Psychopathy,
Live life with too many cares.
Insanity,
These illusion never end.
Captivity,
Behind bars that never bend.

The corruption goes on...

Sanity...
Light is peeking through the darkness,
Purity...
Don't feel anymore of the stress.
Sanity...
It's already fading away...
Cruelty...
DARKNESS GOT A HOLD OF ME!!!
Sometimes I think of my health....
...Sometimes...
stranger Mar 2021
You know taking a bath when you're cold is bad for you yet you still do it.
The cold will catch up to you once you're out.
Unless you boil yourself to the point where you can't stand the bath water and the cold is all you crave.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know this anger harbouring will get you sick and at some point something will have to break.
Yet you deny it and cry in surprise once you realise how ****** up your mind can get.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know that you not functioning without your headphones on the street is a mental deficit and you're scared of being alone.
Yet whenever you say you'll go out without your headphones you can't help but connect them again to your phone.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You know the silencing glare and the subtly swallowed hate wont be enough to fix them or you yet you take no action and only speak when the times are worst causing everything to crack up again in your dysfunctional household.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
No amount of self diagnosis with narcissism, psychosis, psychopathy or plain depression will ever soothe your need of validation. So why bother.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
Your body's stiff, you know the causes.
Yet you try to dance, sing move as much as you can. Idiotic sensual slow killing.
You know you're only making it worse so why keep on hurting?
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
Your blood vessels bursting under your jeans, your veins dying to pop.
Yet you still walk. There's something not quite right with you.
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar
Your ribs cracking under the spring sun, your toes bleeding from that last run when will you understand you're marked for death when will you be done?
Liar liat liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
You promised you'll shave your arms, start up another life yet you're still here.
******* around.
You're nothing but a
Liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar liar.
That's not true I'm just tired
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2020
i sometimes wait for words to appear...
out of the blue...
spontaneity and all that: "wonder"...
i mean... what would that look like...
if it wasn't a hidden emphasis: (colon)...
and later something in talian...
it got it, it, got it, it got it? it it:
tags galore!

as to why people complain about their past...
i know of a quote:
some people never go mad...
what horrible lives they must lead...
true cpt. ahab... or half an arab...
i like my past in that...
whatever wrong i have ever done...
i'm grieving...
the rest of it is... why do i fancy myself
a music buff over a movie boffin?
well... i like to think that my memory
is a bit of my very own:
cameo role b-movie cinema galore!
no wonder... alzheimer's and...
when all these people treat their past
as a regret...
a past is past.... and what not...
i like to ferment in the past...
as much as i once loved movies...
memory is a cinema...
never listen to the grey-area of
those paratroopers forever landing
in a cul de sac of "now"...

if you're going to toast rye bread...
you need to toast rye bed twice...
compared to toasting your standard white loaf...
rye bread requires... sometimes
the most spectacular revelation of patience...
your finger is already roving in a ***
of humos and the gherkins are are already
being bitten off: no heads to begin with...
but... whatever...

i like my past...
i have a memory bank like an elephant...
whatever i did wrong...
well: there's an iron maiden for that sort
of thing...
but i will not be told to uphold the sort of crucifix
masochism of a spectacle...
hey'zeus and je susan to boot...
rye bread...
you need to toast it twice...
if you want the crisp...
and the butter to melt into it like...
someone with a hangover attempting:
clarification bacon when... sun-tanning...

me? inspiration? i'd rather wait for a bus...
shuffle my feet in imitation
tango and scare a shadow while
catching a mouse using no amount of cheese!
that's me... secondant...
to major major: anyone not
milo minderbinder but me?
well then... quack salute and goose-stepping
a mile toward: the future a blank
with no cinema...

why forget the past when it can be such
great cinema?!
perhaps that's why i don't dream that much...
although...
the last dream i had...
i was pinching and pulling out...
splinters of wood from my right hand...
some appeared tiny at first...
later they emerged the size length and thickness
akin to legs of a table...
wooden splinters...
if these aren't dreams about teeth...
they have to be dreams about pulling
splinters from the hand...

what's next? giving birth to turds
and tapeworms?! or cackling penguins?!
what new dream?
attempting to melt a **** of butter
while rubbing it into the skin of a *******
walrus?! expecting to hear a purr?!

what is psychology? i thought that psychopathy
covered it all...
pathology of having a soul...
no... psychology counters psychopathy:
there's a second tier of thinking...
counter impulsive... conscience riddled...
chasm of: when aladdin meets the jinn...

little rubric friend of m'aye:
if... god is dead... this existence is wholly
materialistic: if god is dead
there's no need to cage the body
into a soul... and reverse...
the psychopathy of: the non-existence
of a soul... negation...
this psychology of: lost optics of 1 + 1 = 2...
the logicstics of: a soul with ****** logistics...
cage confined to a cage...

the logic confined to: a soul...
with is lent from god...
but the non-existence of god is...
also... a non-existence of the soul...
why bother then...
what then is the antonym of soul
that animates the body...
that which is unconscious is keeping
a solid heart-beat...
the functions of the liver...
i am the host... i am... while the body
is landlord...
psychology and psychopathy...
one side says: the other side simplifies
impulses... to have a soul is wrong...
psychopathy -
apathy... and to be psychopathic is
wrong "summa summarum"...

if not soul then: sigma (Σ)... we can call it that...
what coordination reprieve?
the Σ forgot the function of the liver...
when the brain demanded: knock-out drinking
habit... day in day out... 7 years and counting!
**** the liver: the brain needs a kipper!

and words sometimes do appear...
like so...
because they have themselves being circumstanced
against a blockage...
a constipation of sentencing the eyes
to staring at a blank piece of paper...
and no further avenues of coordination
the remaining 10 minutes before...
taking the pillow to a viennese waltz...
hugging... being reunited with Cain in Knox & Nod...
perhaps Abel was just a...
annoying ****-whisperer?
after all... last time i heard: Cain's ******
was driven by the fact that...
tomatoes have no blood...
cucumbers have no blood...
that Cain was a vegetarian...
some oops and some horseshoes making
their m.o.t. pass in the crux reminder of
seeking fit to trot via the cobblestone...

spoken like someone who would drive a car...
an alsatian and a sledge... yes...
a bicycle... yes...
a bus a train... yes...
a horse... yes...
but a car? do i look like a ******* h'american
whereby i drive a car: legally...
before i drink from ms. amber's ****: legally?
give me a horse and a bottle of whiskey...
i don't need mr. hamster and the traffic olympics:
for that one-once-upon-a-time "pull"...
sorry... sprain... of:
when no apple pie, warm, was handy...
the floral pattern of excess ******* had to do
"it" justice...

honestly: drink first: thirst first...
and adore the double-decker.... otherwise a nostalgia:
oh no... memory and nostalgia don't mingle...
not if memory is to be treated as a cinematic
escapade... nostalgia is not part of
the hong kong double-decker...
but... to drink prior to it being legal for you
to drive... well: no one of me
is going to be the designated taxi driver interlude
"watchman"...

from the day i started drinking,
it was a pretty ******* clear pythagorean statement...
you drink... you take the bus...
you drink... you walk...
what always eased the walking part?
it's the "deathrow mile"...
again... misnomer... the greater the meaning
of the walk... the shorter the actual distance
being walked...
blink and you might just miss it...
engage with former rage galore...
of clubbing and coming home with nothing
but regress and Greta -

i sometimes wait for words to appear.
Lauren Nicole  Nov 2012
disorder
Lauren Nicole Nov 2012
mouthwatering

anxiety disorder

dishes of psychopathy

Bulimia and ADHD sparkle

reach in a hand

take a few

and a few bottles of ritalin and prozac too

you will love it
David Barr Nov 2013
Forensic psychology is not an exact science, despite the lofty assertions of those who are deemed to have expertise in the face of non-empathic presumption.
Please, do not dismiss the wisdom of those who are seasoned in the metaphorical school of life. It is far too expensive, even though there is an apparent and mutual understanding between those on each side of the great divide.
Dazzling suits and coherent reports do not adequately represent intricate diversities in the docks of criminality where the laughter of the prosecution echoes throughout the beams of formality.
Therefore, sociopathy and psychopathy remain to be inadequately defined.
Kush Oct 2015
Cheerful smiles and hearty laughs belie a monster's presence
False stories and impressions of grandeur contribute to an energy
A crackling spark of incandescence
For this beast is not one of tooth or claw
But something far more deliberate and precise
Ready with sarcasm dripping from the maw

A creature of charisma skilled in manipulation
Jaws primed to spew caustic venom
With a malicious intent for social *******
Its bright eyes quickly scan the room
Sorting the sheep and deciding on which's weaknesses to feed
Trusting this monster assures certain doom

It's a slithering fiend flexing predatory instinct
Composed of façades that are cleverly distinct
Thriving in thoughts of darkness and demise
Hissing lies from midnight to sunrise
Whose only desires are simply to make you bleed
The Psychopath is a snake indeed
The poem that got me in here
if theres a silver lining
im robbing it
ive had enough of waiting
for another hit
if theyll kick a down man
ill take a punt
reciprocate
put the boot on the other foot
if the shoe fits
wear it
when the other one drops
be prepared
unswerving
uncaring
when they kick my knees out
ill go down
killing and cursing
**** em
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
concerning the last lines... all we can do with the Cartesian Libra is add adjectives to it, which is contrary to what the existentialists did by simply modifying a furthered abstraction of the compounds 'i think' and 'i am', via the inverted comma(s), otherwise known as dittoing, sic, prior said, or re-, true to the oddity; a king will continue to question his position / being a king by not thinking about it, hence his uninhibited delusions, hereditary, very much genetic; and hence someone who precursors his being with much concern for thinking, the inhibited delusion, self-serving - both are adjective expansions of the Cartesian Libra, just added qualities, given both are facts requiring a slab of marble to look like Rodin's kiss - or approximate, with therefore being the chisel, and so dependent the end product, indeed a slab of marble at first, but not necessarily Rodin's kiss at the end - perhaps a Notre Dame gargoyle...*

i am what i think,
that's what i came up with after
reading some of the bio sketches -
even though the truth is that
i am what i own -
thinking is the part that comes last,
if i own a bed and a roof over my head,
i end up i thinking about being
homeless - but sometimes you do find
the ones that are inclined
to be what they think, the extremes
we call them - supreme anti-materialists,
it's not satisfying to own a house
or a phone, more is required,
something tinged with transcendental
counters - they "own" a home
but rather not live in it, already the
looming fairy of heaven tells them
of an unnatural life expectancy -
some might say thinking a form of
uninhibited delusion sketches,
like i'd be a venture capitalists taking
a weekend away in Hawaii while
some ridiculousness of poverty in India
was to blame for my jet streams and
carbon footprints - they keep the
inhibited delusional in cages without
a chance to sketch - because the uninhibited
delusional have all the freedoms
that Versailles could allow - or...
uninhibited delusions of non-thought,
inherited, hereditary,
versus inhibited delusions of thought,
mutated, self-invented...
            this could very well be a "magic" square
with two further variations, i.e.

uninhibited delusions of thought (psychopathy)
inhibited delusions of non-thought (coma?

— The End —