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Cody Haag Nov 2015
It's time to take control,
And announce my resistance to fear;
I'm not afraid of the monsters,
The demons, the memories, the beer.

Place my hand on my life,
And squeeze it tight,
Command it,
Turn this struggle into a fight.

I'm not fear's *****,
Not anymore,
That's the past,
I shut the door.

I'm not going cold,
Like I've done before,
When long nights,
Meant submission and more.

Refusing fear,
No longer will I wince,
At your leer;
Instead, I will meet you,
Serve you,
The things you do.
Christian Bixler Mar 2015
The crying notes tear my soul, the wailing of babes
crying without comfort, abandoned and alone on the
desolate emptiness of the plain imagined, stretching on
into emptiness and infinity, while the plaintive shrieks
of the dying infants, innocent in this world of simplicities,
life and death, heat and frost, summer and winter, kindness
and cruelty, they rise in the thin air, cutting across the silence
like jagged knives, while the demons scream in the tortured
vaults of hell, the spirits condemned groaning in their agony,
while above the vultures circle, lowering, lowering, down into
the screams of the innocent, newly cast onto the flat plain of
mortality and death, down, their great wings cutting off the sun
as their claws reach down, down to rend and grasp and tear and
clutch; to spill the fresh blood to gush and stream, and feed the hunger
of the earth, beaks rising and falling and rising again, rising and falling,
till there is nothing. Nothing, and nothing and nothing and nothing!!
And yet. Though visions such as these terror my thoughts and whisper
to me in my dreams of the inevitability of death and of the abundance of
pain, of the rightness of grief, yet I continue and yet am I strong, unbroken
by myself, unbowed by myself. And yet. The walls are crumbling. Stones
fall to be devoured by the empty night, while the eroding wind of pain tears
through my mind and casts down the towers of impregnability while the wall
groans and buckles. Soon it will fall. The pain will become reality, blood will
spill out from the black depths of my mind to stain the world, and the vultures will
begin to circle, to fall, to tear. To ****. I will fall. Unless I contain these blasphemies of
thought, these profanities of my mind, I will fall. And death will claim me, and cast
me screaming into the black void of the empty night. And I will cease. That is all.
Truth mixed with lies, lies embedded in truth, the light and the darkness entangled together,
inseparable in their opposition to each other. The Yin and the Yang. So it is here.
Prepare to be entranced
by symphonic sounds
acuity and beauty
displays of pique
explosions of profanity
evocative waves
of love and adulation
restrained tones
profound as shadows
crossing a motionless road.
André Morrison Feb 2015
You're in my daydreams, I question my sanity
Can't get my head around you, cause me to use profanity
All it takes is one simple kind gesture to rekindle my fire
And instantly you will be my absolute upmost desire
Infecting my thoughts, can not stop thinking of you
You're in my dreams and nightmares, to name a few
You're my deepest wish, what I want the most
And my largest regret, something I won't obtain
Those deep valentines blues, for those of you who couldn't get that certain someone
Homunculus Jan 2015
**** the religion,
**** the division,
**** the crony capitalism,
**** the drug war,
**** the shady cops, and
**** all the prisons,
**** the suits,
**** the boots,
**** the watches,
**** the rings, and for that matter,
**** the foolish pursuit of material things,
**** monopolies on property
**** this country's fake democracy,
**** the corporate aristocracy, and
**** the leaders' proud hypocrisy
**** the layered social classes,
**** the non-apportioned taxes,
**** the cars that run on gas, its 2015, aren't we past this?
**** mortgage debt,
**** student loans, and
**** the tanks, and
**** the drones
**** Wall Street,
**** stocks and bonds
**** the wars and
**** the bombs, and
**** indoctrination,
**** the public education, and
**** the institutional racism,
**** my mind for always racing, and
**** the American Dream, the one that's sold in magazines, and
**** me having to say **** a bunch, so I can vent some steam, but
Is this the best that we can do? I look around, it can't be true, but
If the answer to that question's 'yes,' I'll kindly say:

'*******!'
A private party
Etudes
People around me
Vanity and beauty
From where I sat
A glow of hope
In an ashen sky
Abandoned arguments
Reviews and dismal news
Changing moods
Pauses for profanity
Shadows and reality
Simulacrums
Patented predictions
Solemnity and sorrow
Corpses for the coroner
Silence.
Matthew Harlovic Oct 2014
I am just so ******* tired
to finally be awake

© Matthew Harlovic
The pale ghost of dawn
A grove of trees
Faded derelicts
Without leaves
A tracery of branches
Bent and twisted
Shades of grey
On a cold, grim day.

Disaffection
Evil minds online
Contempt fro coquetry
Worshippers of perversity
A prelude to profanity
Barely covering
Membranes of morality
On the dark side of the mind.
This was inspired by vicious, personal, verbal attacks online.
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