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verdigris Jan 3
A tremble begins to settle on seething skin
She is a maker of parasitical kin
It does not consume like a dancing fire
But it amplifies with a vision of curdling desire
Just like a mother, it grows like a molding seed
A miracle of the asexual spirit in a world of greed
Abrupt in nature, beloved by its own flesh and blood
It left an intangible mark inscribed on her soul in disguise of a hunch
A precautionary tale serves a special prevention of the ugly occurrence
What a marvelous delight it becomes when it reverts as a guide, full of opulence
But not in a sense of monetary value, rather a calculated demise

How does one understand a raw creation of wrath?
What will she become after venturing the thorny path?
Does an inquiry halts her progress in activating fury?
Is there an object of her ire that requires a narrative of her mutiny?
Why does the poison never spread like death in a rush?
Can she possibly raise an army to march with an uncontrollable urge of violence?
When will she endure the thinning of her lips to match the peace of a deafening silence?
Is there a warning to keep herself intact for the coming apocalyptic days?
Will it save the dormant history of her being through enactment of saving face?
The question remains unanswered, but the fulfillment of the instrumental vengeance shall prevail

The inappropriate conception is almost complete to its term
A note emerges from an acidic confinement for the preparation of a womanly stern
This clump of a girl is not a shameful creation for the sake of tragedy
If anything, the child's fulfilling rage will cleanse her ancestors as a token of remedy
There is no reminder of a continuing paternity names on her birth
No need for prophetic visions as she strikes down the Earth
An abundant offerings on her behalf shall never satisfy her
As the melting iron starts to sizzle the plumper skin, the blinding nostalgia of rage tastes better
She has no patience for warnings to initiate an appropriate plan
The hour of her sustainable war has begun
after five years without writing poetry, i have given birth once again.
Hollow Steve Nov 2023
Pelted by winds grace,
shifted by the melody,
I'm meloncholy

Hoisted up in the air,
this feeling to hang,
there is where I lay

Someplace far,
someplace unseen,
maybe that'll feel alright

Bit by bit,
piece by piece,
to be put together
just to fall apart

Placed in hand,
this rhythm keeps me sane,
am I to blame?

Split down the middle,
ripped apart in the end,
stitched together my madness

Complacent,
yet unstable,
I'll wear the mask that follows
Sameen Shakya Nov 2023
The captain, withered and old, was trapped in his house
Missing the sea, like old captains do.
                                                                    Suddenly,
An earthquake shook the land, and he believed
He was back in the ocean, and a wave had broken
His ship.
                  The old captain went out to the streets
Shouting at his crew i.e. the passing pedestrians
To shape up.
                         Though cars zoomed past, he walked on
To the middle of the road, thinking the vehicles
Were dolphins greeting him.
                                                      He tried to kiss them,
And when a cop stopped him, and dragged him away
He yelled “Pirate!” and hit the cop on the head,
And ran away.
                           Last I heard, he’d drowned in a puddle.
A fitting end.
I used to wanna chase the cash,
And lust, after the girls with the fat ***,
Let me back up this spaz,
Tuned into the jazz,
Old school like Sach,
Watch the horn blow, mics up and im set to go,
Hits harder than holyfield, no way you could shield,
This lyrical, medical bill,
I spit it for the real,
No fantasy thrills, im sending chills,
Thats could even,
Make ice feel, the wicked ills,
Got strangled by the angels,
Last i seen,
It be the god supreme,
Got rid of the devils,
Up my levels,
Its just me myself, against eye,
So why even lie, or try,


Took the nails from Christ,
Now I'm living my worse life,
Guess im better off dead,
Different knocks of the feds,
Red dots on my head,
But cant get a word i said,
Concealed the conferation,
I do it, for the peeps in my nation,
don't ask me,
How i escaped the sticky situation,
No deals from me, i boxem like Rocky,
Balbo see my stamina galore,
Plus i got mobsters,
On my hit list,
Heavy mantra, so all haters feel this,
I used to **** Crist,
But now im a believer,
My sins aint registering this,
I guess just a player in this,
Game
Its a shame, truth i picked over fame,
But infamous if i gain,
Followers of the conscious bump the nonsense,
Yo i can feel it, the streets is intense


I turn into Rob Greene,
Learn the powers in between,
The lession beings,
Watch women, who love given,
Like Robyns,
See them robbin,
Men hearts blind, see it was all by design,
Curses of the feline,
Ribs damaged,
Cant manage, the creation,
Sins is just waiting,
While righteousness is just pacing,
Up and down the streets,
Lonely,
Singing Hendrix notes,
Red prints are wrote,
In the concrete, its another ****** sweet,
Wars a conundrum for peace,
Death has to release,
Just a fiend to the beast,
As prayers decease,
And hunger for evil, increase,
They wear crosses,
While laying crosses, king of kings, boss of bosses,
You cant win against nature,
Wisdom sittin' luxury,
But most of the average,
Cant see what i see,
Thomas W Case Oct 2023
I will not trade
my serenity for
madness.
This sadness only
lasts a little while.
I don't want to be
in Wonderland anymore.
Everyone is crazy.
whichever way I
turn, left or right,
it's lunacy.

I deal in reality now.
I won't play croquet with
the queen, no matter
how much she smiles.
The game is fixed, and I
know it.
The deck is stacked.
The cards are laid,
and I see the
***** behind
her eyes.
for have you not known by now,
the person standing in front of you,
became a mad poet, with deranged
semantics and demented letters,
offered to convey a lover’s
delusional affections.
neth jones Aug 2023
who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
thought themselves of mythology ?
processed death into the dying **** ?
blunt   blackened hope
           buttering up what god ?
                                   what mischief maker ?
: Loki the crow with his promethean nose ?

covering his crooked actions
                          the defiling of a life
  murderer
  a coward of failed coupling
congress    a night down the pub
    the gender polar pair collided
            sottish upon their union
genitals bragging through urgent gaps in clothing
but that urgency deflated
it muttered away
he felt baited
and
  humiliated    
             he committed to ******

crude amateur throttling
  a ***** sogged brick  
an indiscreet botch up
    and a stolen wheelbarrow  
        to ferry her away

'The Mourning Tree'
           despondently sifts for nourishment
its gummy combs of branches
  sashing particles  from the night solution
the tree ; a cavity
too verrucose and fleshy to whittle the winds
                                               or fife a tune
a rubbery craggle     foreign against the landscape
should   rather   make out its' habits
                  off the floor of a deep sea trench

roughing in the corpse
head first   down the gullet thirstily
skirts up and claustro
between spread limbs
to ***** puckle in the hollow tree
evicting the bird of Minerva
      ‘whoing’ into the charged sky
  blooded over
             the night blackens further
               brooding on the event

who re-marrowed this hollow tree ?
married themselves to a mythology ?
force fed life   engorged within deathly seed ?
upended crime     in lieu of a sacrifice
           he offered a glass of woman
               to oder the night
he strummed teasing fingers
      raked them humming
         through the heady resistance of the air
electric creeping warmth   over the skin
                        erecting the hairs
   museum silence
   an arena    as fraught equal    between magnets
       clouds cut the moon
      moon cut the eye
    sinful kiting to mend a link
ramblings kinked
he makes sparking incantations to the gods

one scatting madman
one corpse woman


that same bled night
where the furrowed fields
            meets natures disarray
children approach this woodland border             
children with empty baked bean tins
      that they joined with lengths of string
trying to reach out their ears
    extend their timid range
       to sprites, nymphs, pucks or faeries
an older kid strikes up a cigarette
one of the younger ones squats to ***
         and be mocked

one brave girl of ten years
  runs a tin and the line into the woods  
it jerks taunt after about thirty paces
she wedges it in a tree fork and runs back
the children crowd the receiver tin
spooking themselves
eavesdropping   
        upon the hollow wisdom of small gods
            that mask their shame in the dark
influenced by ‘ Who put Bella down the Wych Elm? ‘

misuse of the word 'sashing'
Unpolished Ink Aug 2023
The lighted candle
burns for just we two
making nonsense of reason
it brings such happy madness
a joyous moonstruck affliction
from which we hope to never be recovered
love makes fools of us all
and we would ever have it so
for a world without it
is true insanity
Jeremy Betts Sep 2022
Listen closely when I say this, I don't want to be this, seemingly utterly and socially useless, maybe I spoke it into existence
Best case scenario, this is a ridiculous place to claim as my residence but I never bothered to put forth any resistance
I sit motionless yet some how makin' progress but of course it's lackluster at best, barely a measurable distance
Still forced to press on through 39 rounds of this rigged contest, feeling foolish in lue of my new found cluelessness
Pretending my grip on reality isn't bogus, wishing it was possible to possess more than just a faulty compass
And what good is a shoulder angel drunk off two fifths, ******* me with the devils fist and a strap-on apparatus
How'd it get like this? Was there an exit I missed? Who put destiny up to this?
It's been a continuous loosing battle with this mentality of a defeatist and it means business with tape from wrist to fist
Feel as helpless as a fetus once outside the ****** in the eyes of half of Congress, ******* preposterous
An optimistic pessimist trapped inside a pessimistic optimist, chew on this, I claim the glass itself is a myth
Flip flop from avoiding to chasing deaths kiss, back and forth with reckless abandon that's settin' dangerous precedents
Hiding this incurable, terminal illness in plain sight, a relentless and ravenous sickness
Cancerous thoughts are more than an irritating noosance, it's a merciless menice encased in madness
What am I supposed to learn from this? They say everyone plays the fool sometimes but this is ridiculous, plus, I don't see the purpose
A phony realist, a visually impaired key eye witness. Who hears the crys for help from within the shadows of darkness?
Don't tell me it's the same heartless putts in charge of forgiveness, I need real help so I'm gonna pass on the self-righteous
Is there anybody who knows and could possibly tell me if then why I actually exist
Could they, would they let me know how long all this bull shiits gonna persist?
An existential crisis, I'll give you the knife if you promise to twist and leave it in my back for others to witness
There I am, atop of my own hit list and shiit list, racing toward the top spots like it's a goal I refuse not to witness
Take a shot, I insist, do or do not, there is no try with a mind overwhelmed with sadness
Tripped and slipped and fell head first into madness, it's my ****** up opus, I don't know where hope is
The line between good and evil seems seamless, can't beet 'em join 'em so I tried to harness the darkness, obviously a swing and a miss
I'm the catalyst of my own demize, an apologist for this Hyde side I can't evict with any permanence
Utterly incapable, physically and mentally unable to trespass him from the premises
So I come unglued at the seems and fall to pieces below the surface, letting life continue it's nonconsensual coitus
Here's my thesis, it's better for the masses if I continue suffering in silence and not be anyone elses regrets
Build a wall around this temple, turn open boarders to a closed fortress
No exit or entrance, not allowing me in your presence while keeping life at a distance
Not sure I'll survive this but let's be honest, I don't really need to venture a guess
Let's just say the answer is not a simple yes but it's my reality none the less

©2022
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