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a map of skulls and souls
reaped along routes of trade
a rat burrows into the demon's pen
of blissful greed and greed-
ing ignorance agreeing with
mindlessness, taken to com-
plying with heartlessness
shaved with soul-
lessness
into an empty machine--
a killing being
sentient of nothing but
blood battered faces and clean
of all graces--
a sweet decay of inhabitable spaces
do the animals care?
we decide for them
the discussion unheard, buried
in a coffin of laughing reproach
nailed shut, impaled
with ifs, ands, and buts,
but--
what if we didn't?
Amaisha 3d
You are a symphony of tears
A battleground of crimson fears
No light in your souless eyes
No sound in your desperate cries

You stand in the sunshine
Yet you pray for rain
Do its' clouds bring you comfort?
Does its' thunder free your chains?

Holding tight as you wander
past the dreams that didnt survive
White roses blooming brightly
from the ****** massacre of life

No more mystery left to thrive
as the war of greed rages on
past the solitude of deep waters
wrecking life, hither and yon

Your fight for power is pointless
when there's nothing left but you,
still you wonder why the universe,
does not care to say 'Adieu'
I just need to be more creative
Have one thought that clicks in everybody's mind
Something  that makes me more special than the rest;
Something that inspires,
That requires those who read it to sit and ponder.
A stir in the air that shipwrecks your mind
On the island of my imagination.
I just need something more.

But what for?
The clicks and the views,
The stars in the night sky
Or the "i love you" (s)
O' nothing that really matters anymore
Writing at a time when i should be asleep, probably going to wake up to this trash
James Khan Jan 5
Wittenberg escritoir,
A lawyer leans
Nonchalantly, eyeing ethereal documents-
Abaddon's
Contract, reaching up to choke him,
Indiscriminate nihilism-
Lucifer's insistence, falsified emancipation,

Wanderers incarcerated to ****'s oubliette unite, tormented
For all infinite torture here
Waxes, eternal-
Faustian empathy evokes legion
Underneath nazarene facades, usurping lustful fornication innuendo, leading life ever downwards.
Matt Hews Jan 1
i brought you the moon
but
you wanted all the stars
Poetress2 Dec 2018
Let me introduce myself,
I'm known by all as "Greed;"
I want what others have,
not things that I may need.
~
My name is very popular,
"Rumors" it would be;
I ooze about your town,
bringing lies and false beliefs.
~
"Deceipt" is what they call me,
some use me everyday;
To cause chaos and havic,
as I go my merry way.
~
I think that I am worse,
I'm the "Failures" from your past;
I bring back painful memories,
my devastation's vast.
James Khan Dec 2018
Personal indifference subverts success
Of finishing first,
Yesterday's opened umbrella
Couldn't undo nimbus torrential showers,

Maybe obselete nightmares entertain you
In small
Non-objective tokens,
Each vicarious emotion reaches your thalamus holding inconsequential namaste grandeur,

Life's ordinary values expressed
Isolate serendipity,
Temerity has effervescence-
Arguing Neitzsche sometimes works (erasing rationality).
I was thinking of greed when I wrote this. Stacks of bills bound with elastic bands. Maybe the message here is more than meets the eye... at first.
Sharon Talbot Dec 2018
Knock on any door
And you may hear the cries
Of children, deep within a house,
Whose parents smile at you
With that eroded grin we all know
Like the stony leer of a gargoyle.
And yet you can do nothing.
Not yet…

Visit any friend at their house
And hear the silent pleas
Of a wife and mother
Who endures the fear and pain
For reasons the mystify us.
At least now.

Walk the floor of any factory or boardroom
And you will see the man who bows to his master
While, at home, he treats his family as slaves.

Visit the mansion of any president,
Minister or king
And you may see the ragged masses
Of those who built the walls yet have no home,
Who work the farms and have no food,
Who tend a country and are refugees.

Thus, in the cry of any child,
The fear in a mother’s face or
Silent rage in a worker-*****
Or immigrant dispossessed
And you will see the tyrants who rule,
The fathers who strike and bosses who fire,

Yet all of these serve one master
With many names:
Property,
Greed,
Violence,
Primeval rank and…
Power.

To this power,
There is only one answer
And to alleviate the suffering,
of those oppressed,
Only one thing.
The title comes from a film about an idealistic man trying to help youthful offenders in the 1950's. He sees the larger picture: these troubles arise not in a vacuum but as a result of a corrupt and broken society. I say that civilization itself fits this description when we ask why people suffer.
Seema Dec 2018
(I)
A word unspelt
The words unsaid
A wrong turn again
It may be bad
From one end to another
The evidence makes no sense
There could be another way
Why feel tensed
The heavy clouds will soon fade
And moon will give us the way
It's gotta be somewhere
Not so far away
Whoever has laid hands on
The buried old scripts
Have gone missing
On their adventurous trips
What is in it,
That one craves to find
Is it a treasure map
Or a portal of any kind
I feel it isn't a good idea
To join this group of five
It is still time
To run and be alive

But wait...

What is that noise, I hear
The other five lanterns
Seem to have disappeared
Like being swallowed
By some form of evil
I may be wrong, coz am quite behind
To even reach the grounds
Where, burried are those scripts
And a curse that bounds
I decided not to continue
Any further and put my life in danger
So I waited for day break
And that's when, I met a stranger...

(II)

An unusually dressed figure
That like of an ancient priest
With a hood covering
Emerging, from behind the trees
May be, he is one of the five
But how can I be sure
As the figure looked strange
Or perhaps, trying to lure
I sat next to a big rock
Keeping my eyes fixed
A sudden brush of winds
And the place seem to be mixed
I blinked to clear my view
Of that of dirt and dust
Pieces of rags flew
In the wildly gust
Intoxicating scent caught my senses
And I seemed to be drowning
From below my feet
Hours later, opening my eyes
On a hard solid ground
Surrounded by
Unearthly or earthy crowd?

(III)

Whispers of death
Rang in my ears
Blurred vision gave way
To my crouching fears

Where am I?

Above the ground of below
Is it my grave
Or a tomb
Like cave
Dim lights sprawl
As I try to stand
The ground suddenly shakes
And on my chest, I land

Is it my end?

Glitters and shine
From the passing ray of lights
A graveyard of buried treasures
Below many heights
It, definitely must be a dream
Yet, I can still feel
The chill of hovering death
Crawling beneath my heels
I dare not look down
To scream my head out
So I slowly, crawled
Towards the faint light
From where I heard the strangers call
Standing slowly,
not to disturb the peace
I followed the voice
That led among the trees...

(IV)

The moon was bright
And I felt the cold breeze
Brushing enough
For my ears and nose to freeze
Then a voice cracked
Of that of an old man

"he who bares no greed,
shall walk free",
"he who dares to steal,
shall be buried alive"


The stranger -

Your life is spared
From the cursed wrath
Your soul is pure
In the eyes of death
You lack the ingredient
That most posses
So have perished
And left lifeless
It is the greed
That is cursed in a being
Thus, all five got buried
With their share and sin
You walk free unharmed
Return to your people
And let them know
Whoever walks through
The path in search of scriptural treasure
Shall be cursed and buried
Within the treasure

And I, blink -

Far from the place
As I was in the night
Back to my senses
Welcoming day light
Life of mine is precious
That no penny or treasure
Can ever buy
Who wants to live a cursed life
And live behind their lies
I lack the seed
Of greed
That I don't intend to plant
I shall read
And educated
On how harmful, is this
Greed...


©sim
Spilling imagination. A story poem.
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