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Maya 5d
Rue thy feeble fate.
Fear the day when thine own eyes
Fail to see beyond thy hand.
Requiem for the rest-easies such as Thyself shall not come as welcome
Praise, but as fire and brimstone,
Blood from the grimy grindstones of
The weary working, ready to rise
And crush all unworthy opposition
With their hilts of red-hot rage,
Raising swords of liberty to the heavens and cutting down the opression that has stilted their air.

Weep for this is thy fate:
Thy death means justice for those who Have been defeated countless times,
Under a blooming, burning sky defeats Pile up like stars, simmering, waiting to Become supernovas and take every puny Universe down in their own glorious Descent, like
Icarus to the sun, a sweeter fall could not Exist on this lonely planet,
Into the unforgiving waters of victory.

Justice for those angry folk who by merit Have earned their own place, not by Some system that hands it to them, but By grit and toil alone,
By the fierce madness that is
Existing and not completely
Giving in to the ruin of being human, Following the words that
A wiser man than I spoke, that life is Struggle, that the only constant in this Life is the pain that all of us try to ignore In the futile attempt to block out the Tragedies that haunt us daily.

Face thy fears, coward.
Thou miserable wretch can't look thyself In the mirror, but can claim that we as a Species have hope for peace on Earth and Goodwill for all.
What dost thou know of goodwill? When didst thou give a single moment of thought to the happiness of anyone but thyself and thine selfish  avaricious interests?
Thou shan't claim to know what is holy and just, yet scourge the very pious people that thou imitates; thou shan't slaughter the devout on a temple whose bricks are molded from hypocrisy and deceit.

Rue thy feeble fate,
Because thou deserveth every blow, every cry of mockery, every disgusted eye and every hideous pitiful moan that thy gravestone will inspire, and even Dante himself could not have imagined the flaming of the hellish unredeeming pyre that will be thy afterlife;
rue thy fate for no morals, no intercessions, no pleas or entreaties to be spared from the filth and maggotry that thou hast built thy very house upon canst save thee now.
please correct me if my grammar is wrong, dramatic effect called for dramatic language, and modern tongue has lost the drama that is thine, thee, thou, etc.
Gabriel burnS Aug 31
Drooling on my heart
clawing for the treat
those eyes in ambush
lying in uneasy wait
on the brink, sharpened teeth
savoring the foretaste
breathing in the promises
I will not delay
the inevitable

lips all blades
my skin a sea of pins
bristled for the kiss
tongues coiling for the cut
the cold caress and warm
metallic flavor
sweetness in the air calls
******* the shadows
de-scent... the scent... descent
Dear me
the me that I always wanted to be
the me that I can still be
you are so strong
not hiding behind a screen
because you finally aren’t terrified to speak the words with your mouth
you are so brave
letting your voice be heard
and not minding the attention one bit
you are an amazon
a woman, yes
weak, no
despite their words
you are fierce
you are a warrior
depite their degrading
you are beautiful
you are majestic
you are a bird
not the sloth
not the water bug
you aren't lazy
nor are you scurrying about due to fear
you just flap your wings and soar above
above all of the people that said you wouldn’t make it
above the ones who said you were never good enough
above the pain you felt because you told somebody that you are different
that you are more of a pink and blue
than just a blue
that one color doesn't intrigue you by itself
because you love both just as much
the abyss of deep and dark pain is below you
because you are no longer terrified of yourself
you no longer cringe when you look in the mirror
you no longer cry yourself to sleep every night
you no longer wish you were more than allergic
you are strong
you have your battles
but you already won a battle like Zorndorf
you just have the Boston Massacre left
you are making it
you fought
you cried
but now
you laugh
you love
and I am so proud
that you can say you made it
you deserve it
the you that you never wanted to be
TB Dentz Jul 29
Like a lion in the desert
Scrawny and rat-like but still fierce and intimidating
Thirsty but miles from water and used to it
Outcast but used to it
Dangerous and on the verge of death but used to it
c Jul 16
Paint my porcelain skin
To look like steel.
This is my armor,
Fragile beneath
It’s metallic sheen.
Paint my face
With my blood
Like warpaint
In the form of adrenaline
coursing through my veins.
Forge my sword
With the splintered pieces
Of my dignity,
For my wit is sharp
And my pride is strong.
Heed my battle cry
The song of words once trapped in my throat.
I am a siren, a Spartan, a warrior for the silenced.
The blood
Running through my veins
Is toxic.
So bite me.
Danielle Jun 9
I’m burning as I’m freezing.
My whole split.
Healing as I’m burning fierce.
Drowning as I’m being baptized
I’ll fly off into the known
Even as I become mired in the unfamiliar.
But may the Gods help you withstand my wrath.
His lips pressed against my skin like raindrops that fell gently upon my cold body. So gentle, so close. His love for me transformed, it grew until my skies were covered and his world was all I knew. The sensation he gave me was captivating, for I had always loved a storm. His smile hit me like a blinding streak of lightning, and it made me feel infinite. I was so lost in the thundering words that echoed in my ears, I was so incredibly obsessed with his hands and how they held me so tight, and I forgot that storms always come to an end. Slowly the raindrops stopped falling over my body so fiercely, his words ceased from thundering as they faltered to an echo. A memory. The ghost of his lips remained, like my love for him. Since the storm dispersed I sometimes fall in puddles of our forgotten love and I wish for the storm to return. A storm may be beautiful, but it will not last forever.
Liam Hunter May 26

At times she was the fierceness of a storm
but when need be
She could hold the tears of a generation
on her fingertips

and separate
love, from sadness,
pull pain, from dreams,

and sew them together

into a life.
Indigo May 14
Beautiful women are everywhere.
Beautiful souls are found rather rare.
I may be none.i may be both.
I may be a third type that I chose.
All that you need,to make your judgement fair
Is to know I'm a women
who in need will be there.
I wrote this poem in 2014 and found it today between some scraps
AIA Apr 24
and if we're tied with the same sad fate,
i'll change it... no matter what.
Good day folks!
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