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A Simillacrum Jul 2019
clearly, the days slip past
i nearly lasted, keeping track
tags and descriptions, each one placed
as if a benefit falls upon the lot
for drawing connective lines
god's dead, god's not dead,
i'm god, the god of sand,
ephemera at my command
but what's it mean? these things
take time, but not seriously, because
the sun hits the wax on a paper cup
and it blinds us from the bushes
and so low, can't care
so low, lone, done dead
can't care for upsides
but asides and sideways
A Simillacrum Jun 2019
just a little bit more, i said
looking at myself in health
but wonder now is it wealth
if the utter dregs
living now, too, never dead
living with no overhead
1:1 butter bread, just a little more
then i can ******* afford
that little bit more affordable
life extension business
which is it then, idiot,
social suicide or death by
getting left behind?
survival of the fittest? ****
then, i'm unfit as ****, cheap,
fit to ****, fit to ******, ****** fist
visions or is it not a dream?
deep as deep in the joke gets
Nigdaw Jun 2019
Omnipresent
Voiceless, faceless  hatred
Unwillingly accepted
By data communication,
Even when you're not there
I feel you, words piercing
Through flesh, deeper
Than the love of family ties
Criticism, every little thing
Scrutinised.
I am left with one door open
Follow me if you dare.
A Simillacrum May 2019
Philip K. What The ****.
It's here. Has been. In a fad.
I sit in a slit.

The calm of industrial evenings.
Back to the industry?
I never left.

You get clean. I get stuck.
Not that I never did want.
Cracks exist in everything.
Brief gaps in taken space.

Every crack leads from toe to head.
Every crack feeds on dusty crumbs.
Go Getter
A Simillacrum May 2019
Where's this abject
anger come from?

Is it innate or
is it
an acquired trait?

Who owns these lips
grinning at gains?

Out comes the wolf?
Out comes the hominid.

Who owns these tongues
dripping silver?

Produce and consume.
That's how it is.

What an art it is
to dispel doom.

Tried selling concepts?
That's where it is.
Devil Atticman Feb 2019
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Emmiasky Ojex Nov 2018
Look at our daughters
They now show no ill in laying with men old as their fathers
Look at our sons
Nothing is holding them back from scamming the green people with their bad brain and laptops

Look at our mothers, fathers, the young men and alike; women,
They now have no time for their own children,
Everyone is too busy searching for just one thing,
And that is known as MONEY!

Why will a lady lay with a dog?
Or why’ll she prefer to be known in the environ as a hog?
Is it not just for one thing?
They choose to sell their body?

Why will a schooler choose to become a drop-out with no good passion?
But he’s trying to boycott hardships and hardwork
He’ll just join the bad gang
And will receive money off stealing from the innocent man

He’ll swerve off money from the fleeceable parents
And to all their good, he’ll put an end
He’s not *******
He just wants the wealth; in anyway it comes and at whatsoever cost, he cares less!

Blame it on the money,
What is ours is now owning us,
And we still show no remorse,
As even today, some of your sons and daughters are still singing this MONEY SONG!

©Emmiasky Ojex
This poem talks on how money has thwarted humanity in the world
ArielMarriel Aug 2018
Beware of the emoji man
Who has no real emotions
So he borrows those
Cartoon ones
And thinks that you won’t notice.
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