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The Panthian Sep 2015
Who are you that I should follow? Windowless and blue, what a soul of sorrow. Broken minds and fearful angels built this Frankenstein. Sunday's buckled kneel will never heal. So you think that you can be my beam on high? I will never bow so far as to see your sky. Rip apart the only wound I have ever known. Taste the poison from the monk's hooded bloom. One more step, fall to heaven with this on your breath. And be the nobody that you have already confessed.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
O vicious household gods of Rome
you Manes, Lares, Muses, Fates
who justified patrician homes,
whose reign this poem celebrates,

Allow me now, in retrospect
to excavate, then analyze.
Depravity with cause, connect;
depriving you of alibis.

Relax your stiff noetic poise
as my plebeian pen records
through lyrical poetic noise
the crown imperial crime awards.

My lines, like foundlings, long to ****
a mother’s milk in measured draft
and dredge some gold from Tiber’s muck;
Lord Christ: illuminate my craft.

ROMULUS, let that wolf-*** go
and REMUS too – unlatch that breast…
milk of Etruscan madness, flow,
with empire’s crimes forthwith confessed.

We will not blame your leaden wares
nor ergot mold in rancid bread
for genocidal state affairs,
brutality, and martyred dead.

The Circus, leering, restless, loud,
cheers gladiatorial excess.
The haunted forum’s phantom-crowd
awaits the tyrant’s next address.

He speaks. The wind blows through the arches
stirring up the roadside litter.
Trumpets blare. The legion marches.
Empire’s aftertaste is bitter.

You were Antichrist. That is all.
We cannot dignify your past
or glorify from whence you fall
or praise the mold from which you’re cast.

Christ traveled far from Galilee –
came, saw, conquered – and on it goes.
Our king shall reign eternally;
that she-wolf’s milk no longer flows.
In ancient Roman religion, the Manes /ˈmeɪniːz/ or Di Manes are chthonic deities sometimes thought to represent souls of deceased loved ones. They were associated with the Lares, Lemures, Genii, and Di Penates as deities (di) that pertained to domestic, local, and personal cult. They belonged broadly to the category of di inferi, "those who dwell below,"[1] the undifferentiated collective of divine dead.[2] The Manes were honored during the Parentalia and Feralia in February.

[fromWikipedia]
Styles Aug 2015
The day you met me
And you told me
that you loved me
And took my heart
Into custody.
               NOW THAT YOUR GONE
               TIME WONT GET IT BACK FOR ME.
Charlie Apr 2015
Does Eros smile down on us when he see's our interaction?
Does Cupid notch an arrow when he see's we're in pain?
And Venus, does she boast when a couple marry?
Are there Gods looking down on us controlling our love?
I have to wonder...
baz Mar 2015
He is the Colosseum,
With high walls built up that have withstood centuries of harsh winds and violent storms.
He is looked upon with such admiration, this looming citadel of aestheticism, and is unmatched in any respect.
All who pass pay reverence to this fortress of great strength.

At first, navigating the Colosseum is a daunting task,
But as I started to wander down his narrow hallways and stroll past his looming arches,
I began to learn my way around and figure out just what it was that made him so magnificent.

And then, Thank the Deities,
I wandered upon the brilliant stadium of his heart.

But sadly I came to realize that behind his stable facade was a decaying sight, for his walls were crumbling on the inside.
The stones that were built to protect his fragile insides served a different purpose, to mock him of the storms that have hurt him in the past.
He was hidden behind this fortification and writhed in the cold darkness, alone and scared.
He was afraid to go out and fight, convinced that the violent storms outside that have battered him so, will surely come again.

I pity his soul, for having to take the time to put up each monstrous pillar, put down every concrete block, and fill every crack with cement.
He felt that this was necessary in order to be sure that no evil forces could hurt him ever again;
He was filled with hatred for the world because of what it had done to him.

But as a dedicated warrior, I musn't let him be scared any longer.
He has been gracious enough to let me into his life, into his amphitheater of a soul.
He is my Apollo, and I want to show him how beautiful the cosmos can be.
So I will be his gladiator, and fight for his name.
i am hopelessly infatuated with this boy.
Dat Boi Mar 2015
The goddess
Of golden-faced victory
Her head brilliantly decorated with green laurels
Victoria, bestowing victory for what is named after her
Down to the red-plumed Romans with their gleaming swords

Nike, champion of the Greek gods.
Riding the chariot of victory into battle
The laurels catches the light of a mirror
It dances away, after its victorious champion

She may be a bit crazy or at least hungry
For the taste of that sweet victory
Let her be Roman; let her be Greek;
She is never weak

What one might say, she does not know
For her victory is clogging up her ears
Goddess of victory, we all want a taste of her power.
nurul Nov 2014
We sat in front of that computer screen
arguing whether we should type in Comic Sans or Times New Roman,
ended up in laughs
ended up decoding Webdings cussing
I typed in for you and vice versa
I haven't seen you in years but I still remember when I was 9 and couldn't quite stop from giving you pencils.
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