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Caleb A Johnson Jan 2021
Your evil made me hungry
and I'm coming back for more

I don't even give a ****
That you don't like the poor

You can go ahead and **** someone
If it will start this war

I've been starving for so long
I just can't take it anymore

Your evil made me hungry
And I'm coming back for more
__

Even if I don't catch a break
At least I'll know what it was for

I don't care to have a Cadillac
As long as you don't get to have yours

I'll turn my back on everyone
If they won't quit what's made me sore

Because your evil made me hungry
And I'm coming back for more
_

I'll do whatever you tell me to
I'll be your favorite *****

I'll show you all my anger
And be a bigoted bore

Just as long as you don't forget me
And relish in my gore

Because your evil made me hungry
And I'm coming back for more
_

I don't need no learning of facts
From someone who knows more

There is no one who can take
From me what I've been looking for

Even if you prove me wrong
I'll believe it even more

Because your evil made me hungry
And I'm coming back for more
__

Now the boys in blue have turned
And thrown me to the floor

And you won't even look at me
You don't need me anymore

But that's ok because I broke it all
Those ******* who we tore

From their exalted places
From their more noble lore

It was your evil made me hungry
And I will always come back for more
Ken Pepiton Dec 2020
Teasers, itches wishin' scratches,

gentle dharma level reasons to be
attended to
now,
lest we forget
unget
ungiven sigils signifyin'finite
insignif-ican't sirs, if I can
sort the signal from the noise
-- pause, remember
watch something on the idiot box, oh yeah,
that reminds me,
here's the itch, that fully funcyanin' lie,
yellow and black warning with
magenta scars burn printed
RK Nexivm cult branded
pain proven acceptable
true children of pride,
humbling themselves,
to be the knowers
of the secret
meaning
brand name, rampaging stallion
roger out .-. -.- the code is RK okeh.
K being gone black, fade to black snappy,
tic click 256 shades from white to K
saturated all light absorbed,
out, black, night ink
itching to link
one thought to another,

peace of mind, itchless wonder
being the aim of artists intuition
given poetic licentiousness's final amen.

... now, I lay me down to sleep.
Not sleepy, and there is no place I'm going to, as I consider
mortality fizzing into ever.
Kat Schaefer May 2020
If you’re Jim Jones, then I’m the drinker of the Kool-Aid
I will nod my head in submission and act unafraid
I shall follow in your footsteps and bow before your feet
For I am but a troubled girl who lacks a self-esteem

If you’re Charles Manson, then I’m your ardent devotee
My life, a mere sacrifice, for the desires of thee
Your love and approval is my only mode of existence
For I know nothing else, but am fearful of your distance

If you’re Marshall Applewhite, then I’m your Bonnie Lu
This world is blinded by sacrilege and doesn’t know the truth
So as the comet passes, and we are greeted by our deaths
I will kiss your cheek and say “you were worth my final breaths”

If you’re my spontaneous soulmate, then I am but a victim
For your sudden interest leads to a dangerous addiction
In a few weeks you will disappear and I will question why
While you tell your friends that you’re a "really nice guy”

And I will sit and wonder why you quickly lost interest
When I was unaware of your feelings of belligerence
After weeks of contemplation I will come to realize
That I too was but a sheep, that was herded on your lies
Andrew Fort Dec 2019
Somewhere in the office complex
There is a cult
That dances in circles 'round a fire no one set
Staring at the flame
They scream in chorus,
Chanting the words
In absentium of forest,
No sacrifice of birds

But they are really quite tame people
Unlikely to be chosen by the devils
For their work
I suppose that they just want a contact
In the Underworld's Potomac
Where the devils lurk
And their families at home know nothing;
The memos have told them nothing;
Their deception is quite complete.

No one in the office complex
Uses any salt
The only use for Wi-Fi is for recipes
For the potions that they claim
Give enemies their curses
Render useless locks
Until someone reimburses them
For all their clocks

But no one has it in their job description
To sell hallucinogenic prescriptions--
Well, at least, not quite
Everyone lists lies on their resumés
But none of them know anyway
If their pays are right
The one thing that they dream about
The escape they dream about
Is the ritual every Thursday night

No one quite knows
What they do in there
Pitched percussion;
Tufts of hair
Investigators
Have drawn a blank
At astral projection;
After that, they sank

The newspaper read that the members of the cult
Are all dead now,
But in the building where they once worked
One hears the echoes
Of spells sung in chorus
Of dances and words
The verses of Horace
The faint scent of herbs
I hope you enjoy this tribute to the workaholics of the world.
Philomena Jun 2019
I hate the way you can't put down a drink
And I hate the way your stupid mind tends to think
I hate watching the tears fall
Cause spilled milk isn't worth crying over at all
I hate the way you destroy me inside
And I hate the darkness you put behind my eyes
I hate the way you say it's my fault
Cause I'm not another follower to your cult
I hate the way you act like a *****
Cause I'm getting real tired of this
Victor D López Dec 2018
god is dead
he died of a bad review in The New York Times
that accused him of being
a fascist
and a *****

he is being replaced by a new
non-sectarian trinity
of
Me Myself and I
all of whom are
free
to **** god
and say
god is dead
god dead is
dead is god
is god dead

I think I have heard somebody suggest
(and therefore I have)
that the Department of Health is soon to issue
new and improved
antiexistentialistdespairpills
free of charge  
to every adult
man and woman
sitting in front
of his/her
TV/Smart Phone/Game Console/Computer
waiting for
godot
Slightly revised from the original in Of Pain and Ecstasy: Collected Poems
Outside Words Dec 2018
In the year 3131
They come to devour our suns
Terrible, godlike, interstellar giants
Inconceivable beyond all reason and science.

Humanity and all her colonies,
Divided amongst the galaxies,
Finally united once and for all
For our race dare not fall!

To eliminate the threat of annihilation
We constructed planet-sized stations
That house massive and powerful guns
To protect and defend our vulnerable suns.

As our fears vanished behind us
Those in control sought to rebind us
For systems of authority never change,
Not even with pervasive freedom in range.

With the powerful distracted by their lust,
For control over every speck of dust,
There emerged a demented cult
That believes our race is at fault,
And beings that come from above
Do so out of divine, parental love.

These naive and delusional zealots,
Inspired by avarice long embellished,
By a ruthless society lacking empathy,
Have developed an ever enduring apathy.

Seeking to destroy our only defenses,
They mount violent and ****** offensives,
Their rugged, disorderly fleets crucify
As humanity is unable to reunify.

However, there is another cooperative effort,
A last stand, self-organized endeavor,
This vigilante group battles cultist detestables
They call themselves The Solar Sentinels.

Bound by a principled, passionate collaboration,
The Solar Sentinels defend all people and nations,
Engineers and military minds come together
To ensure our survival and prosper, whatsoever.

Now, one existential question remains:
Will humanity break free of its chains,
Awaken, realize that we are all one,
Disregard old orders and save our suns?
© Outside Words
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