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Brandon Conway Sep 2018

Bottles of cheap bliss
drown out lugubrious sadness
replaced with bottles of ****
in this festering den of madness

at least there’s paradise in my poems
at least there’s a clean bed in my dreams
at least in those spaces I’m in your arms
at least I’m happy bathing in the moonbeam

surround by a fetid smell
with a lack of care for myself,
is my hunger even quelled
when there’s no food left on the shelf?

a roach skitters across a pile of clothes
my temporary friend that I confide in
he speaks, “Here is what I propose.
Stop thinking that you are a has been

get off your *** and clean this mess
unless you want more of my kin
stop ******* at the bottle is what I suggest
and have a little victory, a little win

you don’t have to live”

Squish

“Funny how you can survive a nuke
but not my tiny bare foot,
well you pest, there’s my rebuke
how’s it feel to be ground to soot?”

“What am I doing with my life?
Maybe the cockroach was right.”
Deep Sangani May 2018
Watching a giant cockroach was I,
pushing across a ball of dust
he seemed satisfied to trace,
a path between the table and door,
but soon he turned and jogged in crooked rings,
and flipping over to scratch his back-
as if a victim of a mild
panic attack.
After a while of climbing open shelf's,
he looked uncertain where to go.
I don't know what he was thinking,
but I knew I recognized myself so.
Noticing bits of myself in little things
there’s nothing original about my writing.
I just listen to everyone I’ve ever met
in my life who converse it all away
and have the guts to write it down
with my own eccentricities added
like finding a baby in a dumpster,
a cockroach in the dishwasher,
your car keyed and tires slashed,
a bird maimed on the sidewalk,
a worm in the apple,
your woman gone the next morning
Clementine Mar 2018
He watched as the sky darkened,
Brown leather descending slowly,
Prayed to God he would be pardoned,
Thought of his wife, his one and only.

Last look as the infants wail,
No scraps brought back tonight,
His little legs started to flail,
As he began to shiver in fright.

The human smiled,
His prey had been caught,
And with the glee of a child,
Stamped down his left foot.
Oculi Nov 2017
Such a powerless little being
It can't believe what it's seeing
The world is so huge and wonderful
Everything's large, his eyes are full
But they're all feasting on his naivete
The world's set on making him rue the day

Feet constantly stomping
Insects constantly chomping
Each of them a tiny earthquake
They leave destruction in their wake
And he's the one constantly being bitten
The shakes are there to make the world ridden
Of this tiny being.

But after the bombs strike and they all die...
The cockroach is still there to survive
It is questioning itself forevermore
"Why wasn't I cast to the shores?"
"The shores of Heaven, I mean."
"Do the Gods not want me?"
He forever ponders.
Nathan Raux Jun 2017
Brown legs - he has,
Fear it, fear it,
Not me!
He is one who can fly,
Who has wings eyeing the beyond,
Anywhere, a pond,
A forest, a jungle,
It who can be whenever, wherever
Fear it with the eyes,
The eyes with multiple meanings,
Colors we see,
It sees differently,
Be scared, be frightened,
A skeleton of different capacities,
Its shell is its best commodity
Face him!
For he has risen,
Float and forward it goes,
Without grace,
But with confidence,
It rose,
With wings spreading like a butterfly,
Without beauty and passion it was,
Scared,
Me,
You,
Everyone,
It's... the,
Cockroach!
Sonali Sethi Aug 2014
Silly humans, why can't they see,
The web I weave so carefully?
How will my children ever eat
If they don't control their clumsy feet?

Why can't they see as they walk?
So wrapped up in their silly talks,
Into my precious web they go,
With their loud squaks and bellows!

They scare my children half to death
Why can't they be quiet instead?
No respect for the home they destroyed;
In fact they leave feeling annoyed!

So self righteous these humans are
With that attitude,  they won't get far.
Surely evolution will wipe them out!
All they do is shriek and shout.

There they go into my web again
The one I rebuild with such care and pain,
Not a thought given to my efforts!
This selfish race really should suffer!

I'm outraged by this behaviour
Oh other insects, please be my saviour!
They squash and trample us all the time
I'll give them a piece of my mind!!

Friends, there's strength in numbers
Their underestimation is their blunder
Slowly,  I'll let my evil plans unfurl
Soon, the cockroaches and I will take over the world!
So, I wanted into a spider web last night and came up with this! :)
armon May 2014
I was a no name worker bee
Yet I had a million bees all working for me
I was a caryatid, house wife, never had the life of a queen
Stole my honey from the wasps with the wax in their wings

I was a comatose burn victim
I could hear the nurses whisper sanctum sanctorum!
They fed me nutrients and cleaned my ******
They either didn’t care or they didn’t think I could hear them

I was alive when the lightning struck
But I was dead by second, to survive my luck
I wasn’t anything special
I was a mass produced individual

They had no names worth knowing
They had no future where they were going
And I never thought twice about what I did
The quiet megalomania of a caryatid

And then my patience turned to rampage
I took a page from Genghis Khan
I wanted the roaches gone
I hatched suburban escape plans
Because my angst was delayed
A generation late & afraid

Now in the presence of the gods and goddesses
And in the confidence of infinite this is
Another power grab a singularity
Another force to fight reverse polarity

I’m all about the **** and not the wander
I am the lingering presence of a long goner
I’m here to clarify the **** of daughters
The spider stink in the breath of fire

If we could **** for utility instead of a performance to showcase our species’ ability
Then we’d be hunted by viruses
The gods and goddesses with the instinct to extinct humanity

Chaos is healthy, its part of reality, essential to symmetry, like night is to day
When life is weighed on a pendulum
Like sanctum sanctorum
The delicate faberge

There isn’t anything to bother with on top of the monolith
I’m shouting mantras from the mountain peak

There isn’t any time to practice with a modern creation myth
A lullaby in a language I don’t speak

— The End —