Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Promise me this,
My breath is shaking,
An unwillingness to grieve,
One, two, three times,
Won’t get em’
No they won’t

Spirit of fairness
No we don’t have that
Cutthroat attitudes for a Pretty Penny
Morbid Grand Displays

Material world is unsanitary
My breath is shaking
An unwillingness to grieve
One, two, three times
Won’t get em’
No they won’t
Promise me this.
Big Virge Oct 4
So ... Is It Wise ...
To ... " Commercialise " ... ?!?

Just To Get ...
A ... Short-Lived Prize ... ???

Where's It Got Us ... ?
Showing LOVE ...
To YES ... FAKE Thugs ... !?!

RIDICULOUS ... " Cribs " ... !!!
To Cars For ... " Pimps " ... !!!

Is This The Way ...
We NEED To ... Live ... ?!?

****** SPREES ...
******* ... !!!

Accompanied By ...
WEAK ... Hip Hop Beats ... !!!

That's Just ... ME ...
That's What I SEE ...

I Guess That's ... NOT ...

........ " REALITY " ....... ???

OF COURSE It ... IS ... !!!!!

So LISTEN ... " Kids " ...
You WON'T ... Live Long ...
With ... " Guns and Clips " ... !!!!!!

When They're ATTACHED ...
To ... ANGRY Hips ... !!! ...

DON'T RUSH To Kiss Lips ...
Or .... Hold A Drink ....

USE Your Brain ...
Take Time and ... THINK ... !!!!!

Money Comes EASY ... !!!
Money Goes ... EASY ... !!!

So ...
MAKE That ... " Cash " ...
But ... DON'T Act FLASH ... !!!
Cos' Nowadays ...
You'll Be ... AMAZED ...
At How ... JEALOUSY ...
Can Bring ... " SAD Days " ... !!!

Villains ... Right NOW ...
are ... ILLin' and Killin' ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

TRUST Me Now ...
This AIN'T ... Fulfilling ... !!!

EVERYBODY's ... Billing ...
But Tell Me ... Are You Willing ... ?

To STOP Young People ...
Resorting To ... KILLING ... !!?!!

I'd Rather Be ... " Chilling " ... !!!
and ... Use MY BRAIN ...
A BETTER Way ...
of Life and ... LIVING ... !!!

Like ...
GOOD ... " Upbringing " ... !!!
By ... Men and Women ... !!!

This Was THE THING ...
That Kept ... FULFILLING ...
My ... " Early Life " ...
When LOVE Was Something ...
In ... My SIGHT ... !!!

So ...
Is it ... " Wise " ...
To ... COMMERCIALISE ... ???
When This Can Make ...
Some People ... LIE ... ?!?

" Eyes ON THE PRIZE ! " ...

But ... Selfish Guys ...
May Be ... SURPRISED ... !?!

By ...
What They ... " FIND " ...
In ... Financiers MINDS ... !!!

Let's GO BACK ...........................
To ... EARLIER Times ...

Cos' ...
Banks In The CITY ...
Have ... SLAVERY Ties ... !!!

Now THAT's NOT NICE ... !!!

Could You ...
Place A ... PRICE ...
On A ... Human Life ... ?!?

How About ... " A Child " ...
With ... TEAR FILLED Eyes ... !!?!!

How About ... YOU ... ?
What Would You Do ... ?

If Someone ... BOUGHT ...
How You Could ... "MOVE" ... ???

Well ....
and THIS Is ... NOW ... !!!

"Money Makes The
World Go Around !!!"

DON'T ................... IGNORE That ... !!!!!

THAT IS ... " Profound " ...

UNLIKE ... These Words ...

"I Live for Pounds !"

Live For ... LIVING ... !!!

NOT ... Blood Spilling ... !!!!
Or ... NEEDLESS Killing ... !!!!!

Cos' Things Like THIS ...
Give Lows ... NOT HIGHS ... !!!

Unlike LOVE ...
From ... Feminine Thighs ... !!!

I'll End This ... THERE ...
For ... " MONEY GUYS " ...
With ... VIOLENT Ties ... !!!

Cos I'd ...
Rather Have ... LOVE ...
and Try To Be ... WISE ...

Than ...
Live My Life ...

To .......

...... " Commercialise " ......
Well, in a world where Donald runs the US, these words seem worthless, but hey, so far I've done fine without putting a price on myself, or what I do, but I guess it works for the majority, or does it ... ??? One to think on .......
JP Goss Sep 29
In long cemetery rows
We broke our backs to sow these tilling fields—

Nourishing them with rivulets of blood,
And panicked sweat—

Gun shells sprouting nooses
Make hardened, apathetic blooms—

And we wonder why the fruit is poison—
Giving seeds room to germinate,

In the name of individualism
In the name of industry,

In the name of law,
In the name of order—

In long cemetery rows
We broke our back to sow the killing fields—

To drown out the pain
As weakness leaving having over stayed—

Asking what’s wrong with me
As the lines get deeper,

On foreheads and wrists,
In unemployment offices and churches

We still spit on charity
Ever feeding the sodden ground,

Weakness does not ask control
But only respite

Strength asks for status quo
To overcome and fight,

A test for the True American,
Whatever face becomes this myth,

To be born classless into this stratum of wealth
To indulge humanly and face the consequences

To chase desire and be punished for it
To be the casualty of ideologies

So far removed from what belly and skin want
To ignore the rumblings and twitching—

Who does till these killing fields
But those meant to die there?

While the quartermaster, on hills
Where treaties are to be drawn,

Strips away the olive branch,
Tween him and the planters,

As he waits for the whites of their eyes
To collide as the unthinkable:

An unmanageable force of nature,
The hatred sowed in those killing fields.

But, until then, we drain every last bit
From ourselves, fighting over a dying earth.

Roll out all the fuel we need let’s burn the machine
That could have brought peace.
JP Goss Sep 29
If neoliberalism has taught me anything
It’s that Love is a close, slow, and cold war
Of poisoned wells, proxy wars, and intel—
Know thy enemy, keep them closer than allies.
So close this necessary rivalry
That no olive branch can pass between
That, even in times of peace,
The light-bearing serpents
Post guard near the vaults of one’s purity
Unsure whether grain or gold
Actually lines the walls of ones coffers,
And the thousand envious myrmidons
Kept along the edges of their body’s territory
And skirt the embassy within.
Is there room in the hearth
For pacifists like me?
Or are all the rooms quartered by troops?
It’s sad to say, only the words of the cynic
Could truck and barter
Their way through the bronze gates,
What small inlets there may be,
As master seeking the slave
And slave, the master’s whips
Is a true sign of loyalty to Monogamy’s crown.
What Love couldn’t be said to be
The sadomasochism of
The corporate merger,
Or annexation
Or competitive market of ideas?
***, in the time of Smith or Hobbes,
Is exactly what we need—
Egoism allwheres,
Like so much embroidery
The love of ones life
Veils *******, a swallowing, a utility
And undoes the altruism,
Anything but all-true-ism,
In favor of the fetishism of control,
Flashed like semaphores in storm-beaten nights
To any ship passing
Seeking port and safe passage,
Exchange fire, those shapes and pleas,
Turned warnings to threats,
Sinking, sinking deeper
Into each other’s arms.
In all their plotting, do they hear
Andres-Salome, Ree, and Nietzsche
Laughing about in unburdened skin
Laughing to let the summer in,
On cart-drawn pleasures
And rustic, old-world habits
That rub dirt in the wound
Of the flesh’s censures
By the cruel absence of the lash
And the ostracon.
JP Goss Sep 29
The walls are pliable, permeable,
But those big bills bully
Us smaller ones into charity,
As race to the top
Of morality’s sheer bovine cliffs
Where light, so little light, beams in.
How have the seams resisted
Temptation to burst?
These walls are not strong—
No, that is a myth,
Just as these arms
Are made of paper
These fists of hempen stitch
Made fit to hold aloft
A debtor’s desires, his weight in gold
Under the largesse of
Bigger denominations,
In their shadows, where round
Light passes, galactically bent
Those heavenly bodies
Which, to comprehend,
Invites a schizophrenia—
But, how natural
If the world beyond here
Does not reach out,
If we, too, are made of the same,
It wishes to come in—
Perhaps it already has
And lets us know in its groaning.
JP Goss Sep 29
I could save you
From staring at a nothing all day
Were my arms stronger
My will resolute,
But then, you tired, you poor,
You huddled masses
Would not stand on your own two feet.
Freedom can be sold
To the highest bidder
And rented to whatever lord
Of our choosing,
We have dominion over ourselves,
Both master and slave.
Freely we withhold
Our hands to our mouths,
Those righteous tokens
That engorge our pockets
But deprive our stomachs
The sustenance and dignity
Attested to by endless
Epics, sagas, and eddas of
Those proper kings
Filling their mouths with mantras
About heroes becoming heroes
By making others small.
Who am I
To deprive you of the chance
Of fighting or failing
At the hands of global giants?
Who am I
To stall your righteous war
Of material enrichment
By laying down arm?
There I risk being
But another neck
To be stepped upon.
AvengingPoet Sep 18
I laugh and cry and laugh
And cry again

These mixed emotions
Wondering if this is all there really is

Coffee breaks and tension headaches
And endless droning on in dimly lit halls

Making a measly paycheck
To barely afford the rent

Solace in a fast food sandwich or two
Dying slowly, a calculated death

Life is boring,
We can barely afford it

Giving us no time
Instead of it all

I sit, contemplating it all
Writing these stupid words

Wondering was it all really worth it
Was this the plan along?
Were we the puppets on the string,
Dancing endlessly for the carrot
We won’t obtain?

I shall never know.
It is said there is life out of Earth,
Not just moss or some germ livin’ in filth;

There are beasts very smart in Syluthaarme,
A big rock with a vast digital farm,

Where they work not at all or too hard,
Have one ear, but three legs, walk backward,

Got one eye gazing far far away,
And complexions of more shades of gray

Than is seen here on Earth. Among the mass
Live a few who belong to no class,

But pretend that they share illusions
The less smart breeding mass envisions.

An asylum it is for the sane
In the insane’s needed stead feel the chain.
Hossein Mohammadzade
LLillis Aug 27
smoldering canopies,
rampant greed did this.

each pocket has a purpose
church bells shatter through the surface

the worthless circus sunday service
a procession past the pickled mirthless

dispersions of persons pass pews
hoping He accepts the time served, in lieu

and thus this pocket is purposed for you

At the masqurade parade all day
That preys on insecurity

youre sure to see a bargain,
sharking, armed with curiosity

but the cost is often hidden, lost
in a forest of desire, in a silk lined pocket

and this is where they keep your wallet

search for solace in a sound structure
then ruptured synapses, flayed fluster

rebuild it all, regard life's lustre
meander melancholy with what you can muster

place them in a pocket, each respective,
one for your lessons and one for perspective

as the pickpocket of fear plays with the reasoning detective
A bit of rhyming fun here with a few feelings expressed against some aspects of life completely biased and brazen.

Sew up those pockets people.
Next page