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Allie Rocket Apr 29
Sometimes I wake trembling with love
And in the rambling moments of my waking mind
Where the unconscious flirts with the conscious
And the mental seduction finds
thoughts not yet shaped to the daily plan
gone anyway
in this lockdown land
In those moments
early very early
I know he’s there
with me
Lays beside me
reassuringly
trembling with love
That’s on a good day.

©allierocket
Susanna Feb 2018
I will never lose faith in humanity
Faith is illogical
And I try my best to be logical
I never had faith in the first place
Eberhardt Apr 2016
She tucked in my shirt
and patted my head,
“Always be yourself”
was the first thing she said.

She painted my lips
and powdered my nose,
called me a daisy,
but wanted a rose.

She looked at my shoes
and gave me her heels,
noticed my body,
restricted meals.

She ignored my work
chastised my art,
gathered my drawings,
ripped them apart.

She decided my plans,
outlined each day,
gave me one order -
“don’t disobey.”

She tucked in my shirt
and patted my head,
“You’re nothing without me”
was the last thing she said.
Brent Kincaid Apr 2016
If I let you be as superstitious as you want
And raise your children with gods that haunt
Will you back the hell off my brothers and me
And content yourselves to just let us be?
You can dress yourself and your children
As two thousand year old men and women.

Happy celebration, to everyone here
To every person, all through the year.
Let’s tell each other all we are glad of,
And share with each other peace and love.

It would be a lovely thing for all people to do.
We could all have holidays, yes, Christmas too.
We could create traditions of good will in men.
Now, where did I hear that phrase again?
We could spread messages of tolerance and love
And you could blame it all on something above.

We could start collecting ornaments and things
Just a bit different than your angels with wings,
And we could light candles and sing some songs
And if you wanted to, you could sing along.
And chant obscure ditties and archaic poems
Just don’t expect us to, even if we know them.

Happy celebration, to everyone here
To every person, all through the year.
Let’s tell each other all we are glad of,
And share with each other peace and love.


Then nobody would scowl and wish you ill
Because we wouldn’t have anything like hell.
There would be no devil dude to make you sad
And plenty of words to say when you’re mad.
We’d just have a place where we could all live
And presents for each other if we wanted to give.

Happy celebration, to everyone here
To every person, all through the year.
Let’s tell each other all we are glad of,
And share with each other peace and love.
They were hot on the trail
of the Parisian terrorists
who killed 127 people

When the gendarme came for her
they asked… “where's your boyfriend?”

she answered “he’s not my boyfriend”
she pushed a button and blew herself up

painting the inside of her modest flat
with a single coat of macabre rouge

an unsympathetic Tweet reported
that her head flew out the window
coming to rest on the cobblestone street
in front of the neighborhood bakery
her nostrils drawing a final breath filled
with the aroma of freshly baked croissants

perhaps her dimming retina reflected  
the flickering laser strobe scanning
the Parisian skyline from atop
the Eiffel Tower

maybe it was for the best
that she's been released
from her earthly travails

gotta be a major downer
being a card carrying Jihadi
living  life, parsing locations
to find the best sites to
****** innocent people

living life inside the prison
of a black burka, is
living inside the dogma
of religious delusion
gotta be a living hell
living large in a
Dante’s Inferno
doin hard time in
solitary confinement
of an addled mind
chained to a
wretched heart
looking at life
through tiny slit
like horse blinders
designed to encumber
the distraction of any
peripheral perspective

in summer the dark fabric
traps heat inside the raiment
bringing simmering resentment
to a raging boil

railing against bourgeois decadence
stewing over the whoredom of halter tops,
mini skirts and teeny weeny bikinis

a coal fired pressure cooker
stoked with repressed libidinal energy
loathing the sin of intimacy
recoiling from any intimate touch
the simmering resent
unable to find release
slowly builds until it blows

pure torture for a young woman
how can you not fall in love in Paris?
groove to jazz, lounge an afternoon away
sipping coffee at a sidewalk bistro
French kiss a lover
on a Rive Gauche bench

In The City of Light
how can you prefer body counts
to loving embraces?

the construction of a suicide vest
to epiphanies concealed in
affable Impressionists brushstrokes
or the revelations of Cezanne's dancers


to never roll the warm blush
from a fine Bordeaux
in the cradle of your tongue
or the sophisticated pose
of a first cigarette

to be immersed
in the City of Lights
while shunning
its illumination
by hiding under
a black burka
is absurd

why does this form of Islam require
these sacrifices from the fairer ***?
why does their understanding
of faith forbid body contact
yet demands a righteous body count?
what type of religion sanctifies this?

where an unknowable Allah
promises a paradisaical afterlife
only through the condemnation
of a pedestrian Joie de Vivre

Sharia liberates the soul
with divine chains of submission
and stokes an abhorrence to
secular democracy that condemns
the spirit to the anarchy of choices

is it no surprise she pulled the trigger?
to bad the Quran consumed all her reading time
had she only lifted a slim volume of Camus
she may have read The Myth of Sisyphus
"suicide springs from a feeling of absurdity"
Allah condemned her to a dark subservience
whose only goal was a nihilist martyrdom of
mass ****** and self annihilation  

Said Camus

“those who lack courage will
always find a philosophy to justify it”

and finally she may have understood

Camus's posit of the most important question….…...

“should I **** myself or have a cup of coffee?

she should have had a cup of coffee….

Erik Satie - Trois Gymnopédies

jbm
Oakland
020316
This poem is a companion piece to Righteous Ruminations ....
It is not my intention to denigrate Islam or Muslim women of the veil...
tolerance for religion is the path to peace...
yet the tension between the secular west and Sharia practices remain at odds and nurture extremism on both sides
WistfulHope May 2015
A smudge
appears in the corner
of the eye,
of the view,
of sight.
Wipe away
the tear-less dripping drop.
Amethyst coated
fingers nervously working
to achieve perfection,
hoping that no one payed attention
to the flaw,
the flaw that is one among many,
the flawed that is one among many.

Maybe her make-up is smudged,
maybe she sees herself as one.
A sad piece that came out of a good mood.
I'm just not going to question it.
Normally don't even wear make-up.
Jacey Scheffel Mar 2015
Why say Greek Gods are fake
and Buddha artificial.
The only thing that is synthetic
is the church on its own.
Using money to help the snobs
than the mother's all alone.
Everybody has different,
interpretations about how this god should be worshipped.
It's still a god, with different names, with different ways of life.
Why hate?
What if one creator is the answer,
but different forms he made.
To reach out to the diversity of the humans that remain, but what if it's not one place after death, or a harsh judgement day.
Just all the afterlives living in harmony,
like the we try to live today.
But instead like Sunis and Shiites same beliefs, but different views,
we argue till the death of thousands,
till the deaths of me and you.
Everyone is looking for one thing: happiness after death.
Much like the perfection you search for before you take your last breath.
The body you always wanted, the grades you try to reach, the soul mate you would **** for just to finally meet.
One goal for all, but many different ways to reach.
So if true in life, like the religions that are taught, might you just take a moment and give a second thought.
Nothing may exist, or something might be true, but in the end it just depends on you.
Stick within the boundaries of your mind, or go ahead and charge through.
It's better to be open in thought of all of this, instead of dying and not getting your last wish.
Äŧül Jan 2015
India was a secular state even before recorded history,
We welcomed all religions even before time,
Jesus is said to have come to Kashmir after Good Friday,
The English were welcomed just for business,
But what they did was occupying the nation,
As if that was not enough in itself they tried partitioning us,
After they endured the second world war,
They did decide to leave India to mind theirs,
But they decided to divide us into two.

One was the Islamic Republic of Pakistan,
Another was named as the Republic of India,
While they just tame corrupt extremism,
We tame irrationally extreme corruption,
We host unrealistic & unimaginable scams,
Sinners of all kind in the world are present here,
But there is some hope from our secular identity,
We are a progressive nation and I am so happy today.

One day will definitely come when India will be reunited.
A Republic Day write.
Our guests Mrs. Michelle & Mr. Barrack Hussein Obama are surely enjoying themselves a lot.
He is visibly impressed.

My HP Poem #762
©Atul Kaushal
Xan Abyss Oct 2014
The ******* sufferer beholds another necrologue for Christ
In the savage, barren, ugly, wretched wilderness of God
Forsaken wanderer, alone again forevermore
His crippled heart is a raging fire trapped in a cage of ice
Beyond these walls of darkness, waiting in the shadows
that obscure the night so well
The hiding place of Hell
The path of fire burns on, ever in the silence of the night as it shines
in the eternal void of light
And I will walk the dark path infernal
Left in the razor edge balance
Between the shadows of the night
And incendiary light
I will walk the dark path eternal
Pleasures of the mind and treasures of the flesh
Temptation. Reward. Validation. Disinterest.
A cycle of cannibalism - inhumane
Channel the rage to desire, and feed her the pain
She so needs, she so craves, she is begging you for
Feed her the pain and call her a *****
Deep inside, the fire in those eyes
Give her what she needs to remember she's alive
Tread lightly through the fire of the dark path infernal
Remember the cold. Remember the slumber.
Between the shadows of the night and incendiary light
We will walk the dark path eternal
Now walk with me forever
And I will never leave your side
Walk with me forever
Between the shadow and the light
Walk with me forever
On this dark path infernal
With me, eternally
Alive on the Black Path of Night!
Another stream of consciousness piece from Fall 2012. Obviously there's something ****** to do with it but other than that idk what this is about either.

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