Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Katlego Tladi Oct 2015
My eyelids paint a different shade of paradise each morning.
Forced to make a mural of the world I was born in.

Your barren brown and battered blue,
Are only beautiful to those you matter to.

The clouds, in their grey suits, had promised you greener pastures.
We could've taken better care of you, if only you'd asked us.

You're inanimate by definition,
To me you're the only thing truly living.

We're sorry for trashing the house as if it was our own.
We'll clean it up before dad comes home.

All this destruction is something I can do without.
Sorry mom, I'm moving out.
New planet anyone?
spysgrandson Oct 2015
tufts of grass stand in the yard  
hairy green patches of tenacity
in a field of neglect

half a screen guards
a **** stained door where
someone painted, 214

the pit bull sits behind it
waiting to be fed, and to be
chained again to the stake

where, like any beast bound
by gravity and the grave, he will
make ceaseless circles  

smaller  e a c h  day,  
unwitting sentry to those
two legged creatures
inside

who, with or without
the pit, lie prostrate, in dreamless
bug rich beds    

when they fall
from sleep, they too make circles
bound by stakes and chains…
invisible    

though their pull is felt
and their infernal rattle heard
no matter how far from home
the prisoners of Tulip roam
rewrite from years ago
Jonathan Noble Oct 2014
We turn away from the wink and handshake with nothing said,
Flee from the decrepit, starving man as if we had no bread,
Pretend we don’t notice the beautiful girl the monster has eyed;
So unsheathe the silver sword; once again, we pierce His side.

Merchant tyrants laugh and brag and swag at suave cocktail deals,
While babies die, bombs explode, whole families look for meals;
Churches with groomed pastors naively sing and never play their part;
So unsheathe the silver sword; once again, we pierce His heart.

Where are my children, my boy and girl; do I hear their silent cries?
Does the sound rise above the nooks, crooks and preachers of lies?
Or have they been deadened already, never the chance to start?
So should their father take the sword to again pierce His heart?
the Sandman Jul 2014
Vile photos and sounds play on 'palace' walls;
mud in her fingernails form shapes of the night's sticky, grubby events-
a twisted, ****** Rorscharch-esque blot.
Knee-deep in grit and grime, soot on her feet,
she sludges on, puking night after night on assorted side-walks
with soaked, soily calves.

'Just pretty pictures' painted on a wall
show her a true reflection of her mind;
she seeks familiarity, hides/searches in them for herself.
In distorted jumbles, she looks for her kind.

The splayed stuff stutter and splutter
and stop and grind.

Insomnia and intoxication,
a victim of lack of inspiration-
life falls into a slow degradation.

Nothingness swallows all once more.
She thrusts against the shoddy shut doors
while the slimy sticky dross glues her shoes to gory floors.

-she trails off with a wince
at the hat man's scoff.

Foul filth fills the squalid air; and
sullied and smoky, sighing, she (s)tumbles
halfway to sleep.
Adam Childs Jul 2014
In this life you will find
Degradation unavoidable
For it is in the weather of our life
Degradation is like radioactive waste
We pass like presents to each other
The rain on a wedding day
As I did once live
In the shadows of dread
As degradation breathed on me
And I fell into the pits of self doubt
And stank of slimy sewers
For I was lost in loathing ,
But my soul grew rapidly
In the muck and mud of this world
For it was fertile and rich
As my roots drank up all its goodness

So please send me your degradation
Your disrespect and contempt
Your pretty wrapping of best interests
Makes no fool of me
For I will soak it up like the sky above
For I embrace my madness
And caress her beauty
Like the most cherished lover
As you reject your life
Within the tight confines
Of your own reason
As you seek to bury your
Disappointments in me
I hold your self doubt in my hands
For you live by scales and ranking
As I throw away all scales
And burn all efforts
For there is nothing
I can take from this world
So please, please
Strain if you must
Look down on me
If you can, As I am above
For I own the sky
And live above and beyond

But all degradation disappears
In the softest heart
Of self acceptance
As I fill the room
All banter falls like the softest snow
As we serenely dance and play
In our snowball games
As I learn to swing and play
All jokes bounce and tickle
The inside of my belly
For I live in the ecstasy
Of my own self acceptance
As we roll around like clowns
All barriers broken
Our bellies full of joy
As we spill over with love
And bounce around like jelly

For no degradation exists
In the center of our hearts
Where God permeates our souls
For his love should be
Followed into us whole
As I accept God's goodness
And perfection in all of me
I wrote this a couple of years ago and I thought I would just throw it up , sorry if it starts a bit anguished I wrote when feeling a bit repressed
Miranda Renea Apr 2014
We all
Dance around
A fire with lipstick
On our cheeks in lines
                                     Powdered in patterns that*                              will
                         ­           Accentuate the contours of our                      bodies
                                ­     Symbols written  in eyeliner so                     daintily
                                  Adorned like ink meeting paper                        we are
                             Decadent 287 temptation 285 ****** 307      flame 300
                          The savages you have created with media       we chant
                         Eninimef  eninimef  eninimef  eninimef      we chant

                         In a circle circulating the world with our starving
                         Bodies that whisper of synthetic beauty     and
                    Neglect naked and perverse we are posing
                   For your cameras capturing exploitation
                   And degradation because ****** 307  we
                    Are ****** 307 temptation 285 the savages
   You          have created with media eninimef we chant
We are      the heat of broken records and burnt out cigs
  Play us   like  your out of tune guitar our G-strings are so
   Much more loose unlike the noose of your hands grazing

      Our skin we sing what you want no matter how deep
No matter how long the song we are exactly what
You want *the savages you have created of me –
The savages you have created with media –
Eninimef  eninimef eninimef eninimef
We chant – we chant – we chant – we
Decadent 287 temptation 285
****** 307 flame 300
I tried to make it in the shape of a flame, but the website's formatting made it difficult, in word it isn't so choppy.
Miranda Renea Apr 2014
You're using me. And I can't tell if
You're too stupid to notice or
I'm too stupid to care but
Let me tell you, I am sick
Of this degrading routine.
And I'm the perfect girl, aren't I?
Take the naive ******, so easy to train,
To use so easily for pleasure but
Never give it back because
I'm too inexperienced to know
What I deserve from a man.
But then again,
Maybe you couldn't deliver because
You're just a boy with loose pants and
Lying hands.
Yes, train me, keep me like your pet,
Call me at 3 AM because you just
Broke up with your girlfriend, but
Send me home at 3 AM when
I'm too drunk to stand and
****, I called you my friend?
No wonder you never want to talk,
The only time you want me to use my mouth
Is when you're using it to gag me with your ****.
And even then, you won't even kiss me. Well,
You *******, read these lips;
**** it yourself.
I'm really ****** and needed to get this off my chest. Might make it into a slam?
Jayanta Apr 2014
It was decided that,
Sun will shine,
Flowers will bloom,
Rivers will flow
and the Children’s of God will play around with smile!
But, it is not materialized!
Now, Sun is shine,   but it burns all the greens,
Flowers bloom, but it releases venom,
Rivers flows, but it creates an ocean of tears,
And all the children’s of god soar away,
In the qualms of devil’s children!
Devil’s predecessors are play around
with toxin in their hand !

— The End —