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NeroameeAlucard Jun 2017
Hello
My name is Nero
And I'm a cynical *******.
I've been a cynic for some years now
And it seems though i try to escape it
In other's relations i continue to drown
I try not to bring others down
But
Its hard to ignore a pronounced frown
Or ignore words and wounds that refuse to calm down
Or your own insecurities screaming "YOU DON'T DESERVE WHAT THEY HAVE!" "GIVE UP AND MAYBE YOUR PATHETIC EXISTENCE WILL BE SLIGHTLY LESS SAD!!"
And on the other side the music that defines my life plays along with another voice saying that you can be better, if not for yourself than for someone else
Her specifically because even though you're at the bottom to please her you need no wealth
All you need is time and effort
But then the other voice screams "EFFORT IS A WASTE LIKE YOU YOU BLACK BLEMISH ON OCCUPIED SPACE!"

And as these voices battle, my mind rattles and heart shakes
Seeing the love others show when all that comes and goes like a chameleon, that maybe I'll just be someone's mistake...
Andy Randell Apr 2017
Chained by fatigue to the stairs
Of the shrug shouldered parliament
Encapsulated by the coat of the
Hunters that sleep in snow
That sulfur in the ash
Holds many of them in its
Malicious muzzle with the
Indifference of politicians
That both bite and swallow only to
Bloat their collective belly
And will lash at each other
With suicidal ferocity and the
Only reward they foam for is
Reverence of ******* couched
In heavy leather wheelchairs
Venting smoke like the volcanic
Seismic violence and flick the
Cinders into the valley with which
They open only to feel distain towards
While we in sleep close out eyes further still
and further and further still
Derby Apr 2017
When I was three years old,
I came face-to-face with Allen Ginsberg for the very first time.

I hated him.

In my own little three-year-old way,
I thought he was a mean, rude, nasty, ornery old *******.
But when I turned twenty, I learned the truth:
He was a fearless, bold, no ******* old *******--- he wasn't the only one.

The world wasn't meant to be seen through rose-colored glasses,
but to be witnessed on our feet in the present and off our lazy *****.

Mankind was meant to live and die
in an adventure, seeking peace through trials of wrong and right,
not to bask in a stagnant bath, nor stop in the midst of a path
to a future bright, though out of sight,
for this is no way to thrive,
but to live and die a treacherous lie.

Here in the first world, we are afraid to suffer,
but eager to ****,
to conquer,
to ignore internal issues.
[Pay no mind to the men behind the curtain, the have their own agendas, and we allowed this--- we voted them in!]
We are afraid to be wrong,
but fearless to fight
a battle with no true end in sight.
We will never fix the problem,
nor repair the damage we create,
if we all just sit on down,
grab our egos and *******---
[Spoiler Alert:
There will be no ******, no explosions of mental ***, no parade, just *******, horseshit, and all the other **** that comes along when we bite off more than we can chew and still force it through our systems;
blow it out your ***** and let's get a move on,
we've got things to do and places to be!]

We talk in circles,
we talk of change,
we talk making a difference,
we talk in circles...
see what I'm say'n'?

Politicians are a sham,
Real people lose the race, whether slow and steady, or fastly-paced,
so they **** out of it all,
as they had no business running in the first place.

We the people are dis-

organized
and dYsFU[ckIng fu]nctIonal;
all too lazy to gang up and be the CHANGE we seek,
so we
file
in
line
and fight over our spots to sit in a seat on a ship sailing its way south
d
o
w
n
****'s-******'-Creek.

In twenty--- hell, thirty, forty, fifty years,
we've made little progress,
but we've got iPhones and Wi-Fi, and people going to Mars,
We've got technology never before imagined standard in our cars!
Now, ain't that just swell,
ain't that spectacular?
We're all going to hell
for ******* our own blood from our own ***** like an auto-fellating, narcissistical Dracular.

What do we do? Where do we go from here?

If Ginsberg, Bukowski, Poe, Dante, Plato, Socrates, Freud, ******, Christ, Caesar, Shakespeare, Lincoln, Lee, Brooks[1], Miller[2], my parents, Mr. Pete Rose, Franklin, all my friends, and a million other folks taught me anything,
it's that we're all *******,
we're all sinners,
we're all losers, occasional winners,
we're all *******,
we're all wrong, though sometimes right,
we all live,
we all die,
we've all got **** going on in our lives---
and what I've learned from all this,
was that I can do better,
YOU can do better,
we can ALL do better than we are doing right now,
that we are each unique, but we are no different from one another, we are human beings;
we can learn and teach, and we must do this always,
from day, through night and to each and ever other day.
But the most important lesson above all:
Don't be such a *****, whatever you DO do,
simply try to understand,
for all the world's fate is in our own
feeble, but hopefully growing hands.
[1]--refers to Mel Brooks
[2]--refers to Arthur Miller
Graff1980 Jan 2017
I do not trust a happy day
My mind recalls past patterns
And each time hope has come my way
Peeking past life’s parted veil
Singing songs of sweet tomorrows
The weeks that come are always hell
As are the all the years that follow

I do not trust a lover’s promise
For they can be given so easily
I have seen certain hearts shattered
When loving to carefree and happily
I know one cannot pledge eternity
Anything can be broken even the best family

I do not trust a possessor’s passion
Cause in pursuing owner’s pleasures
I have found all things are only passing
For the taking, to give, in the asking
We all tire of the new toy
Sweet things can rot away
Adding one more item to your pile
Won’t save you from your final fate

There is a far darker day ******* me
The shadows tight on my trail
Night will fall sooner than expected
So even when I smile, I do not trust myself
Moods will change, ebbing and flowing
With the winds that keep my armor
Flapping up and down so my scars are showing

The good is just a phase
Then again I could say the same thing
About the bad days coming
Neither are permanent
Only one thing is inevitable
Graff1980 Jan 2017
I don’t know how to be normal and most times I don’t care
I could read for hours and contemplate the ups and downs of whats fair
But sometimes I feel a spark of despair
A deep dark longing or apathy beyond compare
Sometimes I feel like death would be grand
Who gives a **** if the normals wouldn’t understand
I get tired of this life and all of its pain
Of the suffering existence is a trifle insane
To walk through this life which is so **** mundane
What do I have to show for this trip but a broken heart and overactive brain
She is gold.
    tender light hangs about her, enticing the universe.
    a few brave droplets escape their cloudy prison,
    gliding down to capture her luminous,
    before shattering into golden fragments upon the pavement.
A blazing furnace.
     she heeded not the warning of the winter wind,
     rather dressing in bare legs,
     their radiating heat thawing icy countenance.
A diamond among rubble.
    her steps choose their own gait,
    neither hasty nor laggard,
    while brief case and worried eye pass her by,
    her mouth yet curves gentle upward.

She soars just above reality.
An angel whose soles are not yet dirtied by the blackness on which the world treads.
Kit John Parish Dec 2016
I'm sick of being sick of everything


deep red, it burns a hole into my skull

original right? four in the morning, I bet you're crying now
you alienate your friends and revere drug abuse
how ******* original

39, 40, 41, only son, nothing done, faulty one
63, 64, 65, tricky lives, slicker knives, I'm sick, I lie
98, 99, 100, and I dread, and how red, I'm brain dead
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