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September Roses Nov 2018
The woodsman in his daggered cloak
Was given the gift of death
He killed his daughter and he killed his wife
And laid his dinner above their heads
He set out into the night
Set through his tears hard spirits
A scythe he weilded in the dark
And danced in drunken sadness
His blade flew blindly round him
A bird of prey guided by the foolish
He knew not what his actions would do to him
He thought nothing of the mark he'd brandish
And once he saw the truth
Far done was the damage
So much so that he drowned himself
In more liquor and anguish
You see in his drunken demise
The woodsman chopped down the screaming birch trees
Each holding a child
Inside its branches and leaves
The darkness watched in joy
As his precious gift did its work
His blind drunken puppet
Bringing terror unto the earth
Despite countless factorial permutations
and combinations, this cyber surfer
avails two alms
(one from alma mater, thee other

handily gifted from alma papa)
seeking succor asper sum er set Maugham
mull eight mom mee **** sic cure ring
(via chemotherapy and radiation) human *******,

boot metastatic carcinoma snatched away
futuristic pharmacological balms
so glad experienced being tethered
in utero umbilical connection
and this brother smothered and overly mothered,

etched bromide, which hankering calms
embryonic sensation this corporeal being lacks
constantly subjected to exams
from hard school of hard knocks

which i bewail sets back and gloms
mine aim to revel in blissful contentment
but circumstances decrees otherwise
cursing this chap tubby haunted

by veritable elfin grotto dwelling phantoms
hovering over sweet clover dials a mirage
yes...iris sieve blurbs from gals and two guys
that span the World Wide Web, and exude

premature ejaculatory ecstasy, puzzled if fie
totally tubularly trod a tedious trek
along the boulevard of broken dreams
what happenstance oft finds thyself to flail
amidst difficulty to maximize

optimal opportunities searching for Holy Grail
or whatever constitutes such lofty
personal objective, perchance being hale
and hearty of body, mind and spirit

spurs the furies of fate tut test this primate
while he aims to gallop with mighty industrial
vim and vigor leaving a virtual soundcloud
of dust, though mindfulness helps
to pass go, and chance avoid jail

time, then maybe monopolized feedback offered
to this toothless mwm quasi-vegetarian
enjoying poetry stone soup, yet also subsisting
on supplementary vitamin packed glue tin free

NON GMO gluten free
fruity tall tales for a male
forty-two years shy
sans Bing a centenarian,
which span of life best cut short with a nail
(possibly nine inches) hammered into
faux coffin, cuz this imp doth turn pale

at the prospect to fill up a space of land
best utilized by birds - such as quail
Mongoose, or ibis (though aye n'er saw
one), where cremated ashes sail

across some verdant plain under
cerulean skies putting to rest every travail
which thoughts of dem eyes spells
relief since homelessness -

therein lied the rub
but dove vine intervention    
cooed not comb sooner
main impetus explaining this rambling spiel

(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
the warp and woof ova gauzy veil
imperceptibly looms closer upon
turrets of my digital sea faring gun whale
and thus desperation finds pleading salvation.

(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
before mine danse macabre
doppelganger draws dagger

punctured skein tight
as a yank key notched belt
housed within mine impenetrable
hermetically sealed invisible bubble
drapes with blackened

Hades hued habiliment therein dwelt
sinister saboteur mastermind
marauder of Hubble
piercing fiery ocular rift
presence unseen but felt  

demands sacrifice once
into bowels of Hades
force at Devilled Pitchfork
to traverse river Styx
with unadulterated gelt,        
which known phantasmagorical double

diabolical self amidst aftermath
from Armageddon rubble
astride charred global ruins
entire civilization melt
planetary paroxysm

prognosticated by Maya sages
with 11th hour stubble
birthed Darth Vader nemesis  
evil upon earth he did pelt
annihilating mankind,

the derelict species that fueled trouble
hence evil twin appointed
apocalyptic malevolence spelt
desiccation, humiliation, and laceration
  
upon once verdant veldt
with mass crematorium desecration
left horrific blistering welt.
Tan Sichuan Countdown

to **** sapiens extinction
predicted millenniums in past
to occur December 21
two thousand and twelve

(that date elapsed without incident
but beware unexpected    
cataclysmic circumstance)
after con comma tinted common era,

whereby catastrophic spark
detonating inferno incinerating blast
eradicating extant flora
and fauna bereft sans hegira
with no means to interrupt the die
since the dawn of civilization cast.

Impossible to escape
ominously predetermined quaking
fate of human rat race
nor turn back hands of time

with origin of species on clock face
thus ticking closer to hour of doomsday
without faith to brace
allowing, enabling and
provide Gaia to redeem terrestrial space

vestiges of teeming billions soon graced erased
criminal minds without a trace
forcefully relinquishing simians
planetary stranglehold amazing grace
proffering tabula rasa
for another dominant species
to claim the place.

Sirens promulgate emergency
toward impending inescapable cataclysm,
yet no place to run or hide
lest one boards rocket light-years away,

which makes suspense thrillers
birthed by John Grisham
enviable plot to keep
total Earths’ destruction at bay.

mice elf, a lifetime americaonline
Meme bur hastens to convey dire
crisis sparking
to offer electric nom de plume
Harris40tude a papa who did sire

deux darling daughters,
yet for ages hive stung
with hurt early, whence fatherhood did fire
meow n childhoods' end fostering people

strangers fork get dish
comb bob yule hated communication,
per S0S sprinkled with awe shucks corny,
Egret - letting opportunities
take flight aspire,

now pleasures soft
as gossamer feather bedding
down play hardened
angst riddled psyche, where ire

Ronny gully stubbornly thrives
amidst adversity as father time spins gyre
row scope at greased lightening speed,
intimating with dead reckoning to hire
grim reaper, who **** patient

as Job, and exemplary at ridding mire
and muck bogs down this dada robbing
existence with joie de vivre, where funeral pyre
doth flickr-beckoning GoDaddy, cuz

Juno I haint gonna hear angelic choir
or equivalent enlightenment re:
home sweet home, this atheist doggedly tire
so haim trying keep sea legs
one step ahead of tipping point
envision self pitched into abyss, thus end of wire.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
now, asper that unwelcome deathly still intruder
tis thee demise of life i.e. known
(among other names) as grim reaper
accompanied by ghost of
John (toot till loo to you) Bankhead Magruder.
Gunner Jun 2017
Kick the Calendar
Take a ride to the other World
To stretch the Leathers
To leave your Feathers

A lady with a scythe has Visited
Leave the World
To listen to the crickets Sing
To have a garden Growing

Finish one's Day
Lower the curtain of Life
To be three meters Under
To take a Blunder

Candle gets Extinguished
Say goodbye to one's Life
To kick empty Space
To accept the Emprace

of Death
Tammy Cusick Oct 2014
Darkness it creeps and hides,
every crack and crevasse,
born to the naked eye,
in the world of sand we're Catcher while they're Rye.

Open up your mind,
that third dimensional eye,
for it unlocked the truth,
it leaves few behind,
you gotta catch up if you plan to survive.

In this world so feeble and faint,
harsh and cold,
darkness creeps upon the paranoid and old,
it reaches out and grabs your hand,
for we are all just grains left in the sand.

Its anger is a scythe,
cuts deep into your soul like any double edged knife,
I am the reaper,
I am new life.

Darkness its stench,
dead and foul,
Hades slithering on the prowl,
there is a time here and now.

Life is found rejoicing in the light,
for I kiss the hand of death and say goodnight,
for you I bid goodbye,
for I am god,
I am Rye.

I drink my quaff and stumble away,
for I am the reaper,
dead and grey,
free your soul,
I hope and pray
that darkness will never creep your way.
drinking problem
Daylight 4U2C May 2014
The iron drips from my fingers.
The man gives out a yell.
The child launches, she launches at me.
Sadly her launch had failed.
I chuckled at her, with no pity.
Her frightened face, what a laugh.
The person she’s crying for isn't worth dying for.
After all,
he was a bad man.
It’s funny, so funny, funny the fact.
The fact, she thought if she grabbed my neck then,
maybe, just maybe, maybe I’d die.
I laughed again and finally, I gave out a sigh.
“Poor child,” I said my voice left unchanged.
“You misunderstood. I shouldn't be ashamed.
Your idol has done so many bad things,
now he’ll pay for his sins of adultery,
in a place which this blind man cannot see.
She fell to the ground befalling her tears.
This was the end of her happy years.
What? Did she think it was a fairy tale life?
Reality is sharp, just like a knife.
I laughed at the fact I took his life,
with just one swing of my most dull scythe.
Harkaran Mar 2014
As my soul danced in farewell
With my life ebbing away
Unto the gaping gates of Hell
With utter shock and dismay
In my last bitter flight
I saw His dreadful scythe
It was the only thing I liked
About the infamous Grim Reaper
And all of Hell's keepers
The only thing with shine
Glinting with dire beauty
That scythe in fading light

— The End —