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jeffrey robin Jul 2010
and the parson
on the village green
greets the people
and blesses them
with peaceful images
of an all encompassing
eternity

and the parson
senses in the shadows
ominous and deadly ...rumblings
masters of slavery
and lusted hatefilled afternoons
invading
his time and space

but he keeps on smiling
on the village green
for the souls of his people
must feel "the peace"

but then the WAR
comes to the village green
and the parson, in horror
sees the building flames
destroy the village
and the people
and the sense of
eternal peace
and the parson himself
and his faith

and now it has happened
to the village green
and the WAR itself
what did it mean?
NOTHING!
NOTHING BUT DESTRUCTION
to each and every thing

(and the parson
on the village green
greets the people
and blesses them
with peaceful images
of an all encompassing
eternity)

AMID THE WAR SONGS
AND THE FLAMES
We all have the right to write.
We aren't obliged to write right.

You have the right to flaunt your ugly, hatefilled heart,
You have the right to sneer, and leer.

Hide behind those concepts and techniques.
If it makes a few people laugh, who cares about the ones that cry?
They don't get it, they don't get you,
You're too clever for them.

You have the right, you have the right,
I agree, we are all free,
Some will laugh, some will cry,
Some stay silent, sitting by.

I'll admit that you have wit,
You're still a total, utter ***.
David Watt Feb 2011
This is a poem of sincerest confession,
I feel strangled and undead trapped in affection.
Every where you touch is spoiled and addicting,
By fake embraces and loveless acting.

Too many times have u kissed me deeply,
Too many times have you melted me completely.
Robbed of my own dignity,
I bend to your will repeatedly.

Till the night thats is a heartbreak,
The kiss you gave that made my world quake.
On her lips you gave the sumtuous gift,
Your posture announced the final shift.

How i begged to be the one you loved,
Torn now and broken aside im shoved.
The tears cant fall for no more live,
This time its final uncaged no more to give.

The beating bliss died tonight,
No longer a fool to a fools delight.
I can't stop loving you obsessively,
But i can turn to hating you so passionately.

Give me strength if a God will listen,
To rid of this heart and tears that glisten,
I've cried enough over empty nights,
I want to feel nothing in vacant delight.

Kiss me now demon of dark temptation,
And fill my mind with evil contemplation.
Of pouring souls and hatefilled Slumber,
For from this point my heartache is thunder.
Star Gazer  Mar 2016
Myself
Star Gazer Mar 2016
I wear my long sleeves like they are tissues
Tears in constant motion over minor issues
I told myself one day I'll grow stronger
I guess I've been lying to myself longer
Than I have ever lied to anyone.
Swooning over people that are to be won
Just so they could create a vortex of ache
Some even claim it to be for my own sake
No! I don't think you hurting me is for me
I floated in water but you drowned me in the sea.

People tell me to stop listening. STOP LISTENING!
I HAVE TRIED, I have tried staring at sun's glistening
But their words still seep through the cracks and gaps
Of a wall erected between me and their word traps
THEIR WORDS still penetrate my soul with their hatred
Even with all the barriers and constructed obstructions I created.

I tried ignoring, the problem intensifies
Like a tiny droplet in the vast skies
That slowly but surely becomes a storm
I tried changing myself, to slowly conform
But even then I was still a complete pariah
With words of hate that singed me like fire
With a full change I was still a social reject
Somehow unable to follow their presets
I tried embracing my outcasted features
I got my blood dried by hatefilled leeches
Spouting out completely taunting lies
To accompany my already tumbling sky.

I found poetry, I decided to write till my heart is content
But even then I was still a reject with more holes than dents
With no where else to vent but sit shallow in my grave
I guess I have one foot in the grave and that's brave
Because I'm already willing to accept my death
I'm already willing to accept my last and final breath.

They say powerful poetry will show you yourself
And all I see is a lonely man screaming for some help
Only to be responded with silence and emptiness
I got criticised for embracing my inner darkness
I got crticised for being the light of a dark room
So I am torn in between trying to be happy and gloom.

Poetry has shown me that I'm immature for my age
As though I'm still that same little kid on that stage
Urinating and crying for his parents' care mid show,
I'm not the kid caught in between a volcano and snow
I'm not the kid checking under his own bed for monsters
Not because I finally have all my fears conquered
But because the imaginary parts of my life are gone
Everything fell in motion like I was an axon
Gone are the tooth fairies, gone are santas and elves
Gone are the comic books and games on the shelves
Gone are the stuffed toys that decorated my bed
ALL GONE like the positive light that recur in my head
ALL GONE like the people who coddled me in false promise
Now I just roam the streets for someone who's honest
But the monsters that escaped the captivity under my feet
Is lurking and hiding behind the shadows of the street.

I am not the same little kid who cried when things go wrong
I am a man who became all the things people thought were wrong
I found poetry and it doesn't help.
Who was I kidding?

I'm just a guy scrawling words from a stupid mind like a black hole
Pretending that black holes don't **** the light out of everything.
Mark Wanless Jul 2016
The universe is crooked
       a drift of soul has fell
A hatefilled thought a heartbeat
       no greater death is hell
been there, done that
Yenson Jun 2023
In the bubble of superficiality
sits the hapless numbskulls grinding angst
fighting First world problems
their targets the uccessfuls the rich the doers
our morons lash in frustrations
the obscured faceless keyboard warriors
venting trolling and bashing
aptly chasing themselves in chasing dragons
an hatefilled hour more or less
they are swaggering masters of the Universe
vacuous heads in deep shallows
hitting hard punching low shadow prancing
its all rut on the western front
get it off your chests return to your plated chains
and wear the padlocks with pride
you'll never sit in a Roller and success is your enemy
and for those hours away from trolling
the successfuls give you all enough distractions
most of which you pay them for
but trolling helps ease your pains and vapidities
and you get paid anyway
whether you sit on your ***** all day or work
trolling is free distractions

— The End —