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This heart is graceless and vile
Stricken with an archaic smile
I missed this life, by a mile
To search for morale
To defile

The sins of the past
So sternly, they last
My downfall was fast
In a chasm
Too vast

I stop and can't start
I bartered for my heart
And now, as I part:
I summoned my conscience
And, tore it apart

I gave up my dreams
For closely-knit schemes
It's just as it seems
My morals are waning
In sputtering gleams

What lie had I told?
Pretending I'm bold
I have no heart of gold
With no sense of purpose
My heartstrings unfold

My head is unkind
I'm losing my mind
What vice, I've inclined
I wander through majestic stages
But still, I am blind...
I had meant to portray the problems associated with our vices, and how they interfere with different facets of life.
Her conversation runs strong but soon it’s not long
Before all of it falls straight into the pit
Her eyes give her away from a past of slow decay
And for good reasons she feels all of this pain
Don’t regret too much sister
Just enough to keep you in line
You shall be forgiven
Soon enough with some time
Adam Kinsley Oct 1
I wander in wonder, a kin to dysfunction
Cruel silence stole solace from these feeble fingertips
Adrift, my memories spurn my conscience, coercing calamity

All which I have retained is bitter self-loathing:
A quiet and fleeting contention to vex all I have known
My motives have melted, like wax wings in the sunlight

Catharsis is for the strong of heart, not the bullheaded
By no means have I escaped this labyrinth
My blood is on my own two hands

These erratic desires have turned bitterly against me
Discord is unbridled between these once cordial synapses
As unkempt remorse refuses to flee...
Sabika H Sep 10
Monitor the way you speak to yourself,
Catch yourself
In the midst of your own delusions.
You have mirrors
And a light in the middle
And you bounce off surfaces,
Weaknesses and solutions.
Confined in a body in a body
Revelling in a cognitive dissonance,
As you recognise within you
A drop from the divine,
You cannot ignore the infinite distance.
Sungmoo Bae Sep 4
Come to me, my dearest one.
Let me get inside you more;
naivety is your nature,
thus eager to please
and to be pleased
- time flies like a fleeting bluebird,

a fairy in its blue bright spirit,
    and still you’re nearing my presence.
    Almost there, so be afraid of me,
    and yet fond of me,

for I'll never let you stray off anymore
- stop your wandering, no more -
and ‘tis the proof that I hold you so dear.
I long to relish that imminent moment

    where you’ll give me the enjoyable tickles
    while struggling in my arms tightly locked,

kept held in my blooming *****
in ominous anticipation.
Alas, I'm much eager to please you so  
- and I do expect, you would feel the same;
that is what I know from your eyes
trying to shun my eagerness,
still neglecting my attentive gesture
beckoning you to join me,

    but you will hide it no longer,
    for all of your struggles, big or small no matter,

    fans my fanatic yearning for your soul.

So accept me, my foolish child
(so carefree, but still shuddering)
as the dim evening clouds
would shroud the skies above,

sealing off the passage of light  
that was once so brilliant,
but now without a reason to exist.
And you, the courted,

    don't just stand there
    when I come to embrace you heartily,

so induce me; do ****** me,
and betray your fear
to be accepted by me, and only.
Do me a favor, and this shall work

as a token of passion for me;
the perfection is all yours:

the purification of our intents,
the petrifaction of our conscience,

the completion of our unison,
ceasing the compliance
with the rigid standards
of the unworthy.

    Wings of the butterfly collapse
    altogether, and you will be
    awaken, knowing that, my love,
    you are truly a butterfly.

    Like a pair of moths,
    we fly into the torchlight burning incandescent.
If interested, you can also visit my Facebook page as well:

(C) Copyright: Saul Bae
Of people that matter
  and the paper that glitters
Perceive the light around you,
     there are dark corners, every corner
But stick to the bright rays within,
    they'd guide you every way and between.
Zywa Aug 30
My conscience, please do

argue with me, and never –

argue with measure.
“Voor dag en dauw” – III (“Before dawn” – III , 1936, Martinus Nijhoff)

Collection "Passage Passion"
Dante Rocío Aug 18
If you ever see me
run over.
on the ground.
something wrong with me.
or that I’m not conscious,

don’t look for my breath
or heartbeat,
don’t reach for a phone to call
an ambulance that will drive me
to the hospice
to which the world throws you in
when your window sill climbing,
barefoot walking
in the dirt rolling
like child with freeing thoughts drooling
or law-culture breaking
gets too much
of a crime for them.
don’t ask me if I see still fine
your two or four fingers
yet look for the tears in my eyes.

For if I don’t have them anymore
and won’t get myself then or ever again
to truly cry,
it is only then
that you’ll know
I stopped fighting,
I died,
I ultimately ***** myself
and I forgot
there is more Beyond.

and without that
my existence isn’t worth
looking for the pulse

I will not be worth
of seeing stars
as a boy
without sanity
or glasses


I swear on you
upon all
Thought of when once I felt
That the Village’s walls want always
To take over us
And make us forget
There is actually worth
or Life.
Thought of when imagined
That I would cease to wonder
Cry, bless or use my Legend
To become.
When I thought how others are unwelcome
Of my antics, Liberty and the New I carry
Every time you wake into
Walking this Village’s annihilation
And fearing
That one day you’ll come
To agree to it all.
This is what others don’t know as Death
Norman Crane Aug 14
Day's portending glow
divided by the room we're in
                           verted, lit from below
our shadows cast on ceilings loom
disfigured by the self-consuming gloom
of doom we ourselves evoked
in youth
Tooth for a tooth,
In short: revenge: the word we never spoke
As the hammer fell on his existence
Bludgeoning his dull, swollen resistance
Toward a ****** stillness
That, we hoped, would equal calm
But instead has led us
to the
Justifying a thief
Looking for a Redeemer
Yet selling one's soul for bargain

Sale of one's conscience
Giving room for imprisonment
Doing away with the inconvenient truth

A line-up of forgotten heritage
Accepting the long spoon
Cornering the dividends of abandonment

Losing one's entitlement
Giving betrayal a new name
Crowning loyalists king of the land

Upholding truth
A forgotten culture
Making lies their way of life

Truth at the cross
Dying for it's belief
A martyr no one wants

Written by Tosan Oluwakemi Thompson
This is a poem addressing the issues of truth, conscience, and politics in Africa.
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