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Di Verce Sep 19
All they worship
Is ****** ******* on candies
Talk about something real
Rather than your endless narcissistic trivialities
Your shiny objects
Your **** of children, creating them for amusement, like they're pets
Like you own them
They're not yours!
The world needs fewer pets
The world needs fewer YOU

Quit drooling over vanities
Or die of thirst
Ye creators only of desert
Stare at the people around you, unloved
Not at the ceiling, and some ***** you lust after
That ain't beauty
It's filth

Corrupt my world further
And I will spare no mercy
**** on that lollipop
Princess Selfish
You are asked
And your words cast out meaning,
Yet their selfishness is returned.
And you cower, crying for silence
For kindness not to be spurned.

Is is all too much for what we have created?
Towers of dogs fighting.
Fallen compasses,
On an empty path
Is it all too much for what we have inflated?
Hands over eyes.
Blind dogs in the tall grass.

And your words cast out their meaning,
They lay out the welcome mat,
Yet on days to come, they fester
And turn you on your back.

Is it too much for all?
Is it too much?
Is it?
Is?
I.
telling the truth and it festering into something else by the hearer
nadine Aug 27
would it be selfish of me
to ask for more
than sneaky glances here and there?

mouths desperate
to form sentences
to confabulate with you
but i rebel against my own body,
incorrigible mutters
bolting its way out of my lips.

would it be selfish of me
to ask for more
than an hour to spend with you?

eyebrows knitting together
in confusion
as you laugh
about matters of the heart,
looking through me
with perceptive eyes
and i try not to look away.

but fate
has a terrible affinity
for separating the two of us,

so i wish
we werent back to square one
but that would be wistful thinking.
dont leave me hanging again. how cruel of  you.
Ego
Crying and comfort, hugging and gifting,
thoughtful with time, and being uplifting.
Embracing each chance to do what I could,
and doing it because good feels good.

Giving advice after I’ve lent an ear,
and choosing to serve who most needs me there.
Save each damsel in distress if I could,
and doing it because good feels good.

Being a friend in stubborn defiance—
I’m the one in whom they place reliance!
Some may not think I should act as I should,
but I only do good that feels good.

People don’t seem to get the irony.
Such goodness erodes some humility.
There is no deed, good or bad, that you would
do if doing it did not make you feel good.
(C) 2019 Daniel H. Shulman
do you like to worship yourself
better than worshiping anyone else?
do you look at any glass
except the ones that show yourself?

haven't you heard?
the towers have fallen!
haven't you heard
That towers can fall?

and then, just when
I thought I had seen it all...

i found myself sitting in a different
                                     room
  it looked like a palace
                         but it was a tomb
  like a bleeding, barren womb
  like a child born far too soon
       and it was dark
       and i was scared
       and adults were gathered in a far-off room

and there were things in there with me
that the adults couldn't see
and they were dark and they were small
with the sharpest little teeth

I'VE LOST SOMETHING
something's been taken!
they tore something out of me
     i knew the moment
     i awoke
     and saw the daylight flee

do you paint pictures of food
to donate to starving children?
do you max out your credit card
to profit off God's business?

the towers
shining like mirrors
we see our reflection
   then all is just shattered
   then all that once mattered
   is a column of smoke in the wind
        and angels descend
        from mansions pretend
        to caverns below
        where old Titans stow
                  away
     awaiting the day
      that Chaos will arrive
      their savior
and swallow Earth and its deepest recesses
and them along with it all
   and Vishnu sleeps
   on the endless serpent
Written ca. 2011
acacia Jul 16
My tears boil in a kettle over the stovetop, and it whistles
but I don't move for
I am in my own dreamland, it is safe here

In a world of my own I won't have to cry
about not being enough, about not having enough
In my land there won't be any competition,
all of the races will already be finished
My heart will be so big it covers me from head to toe;
every perimeter I walk on I will pump blood into the dirt of the gnolls and dales, nutrition and vitamins fed to every inanimate and animate thing: there is no distinction in my world

I want to be blind to the outisde world,
my eyes shrouded with shimmers and mink fur
I want cherry blossoms to cover each apple on my body,
marigolds shielding my honeydews and my backside
So that when I wake up in my bed huddled in blankets,
warm skin against fresh sea-shelled shell sheets, I can
shower in rain every single morning, bathe in the clearest
puddles every single night

For skin I'd have pink, violet, and (my favorite shade of) blue petals,
for eyes I'd have the smoothest pebbles
My hair would be cascading billowing streams of blue sky
I'd sew grass blades into lingerie, I'd take the Moon and crush her into gemstones
All in this world of my own

I can have wings for swimming
I can have flippers instead of feet
I can have a tail for flying
All in this world of my own

In my dreamland where it's safe:
I'm being hugged by the clouds
I'm dressed in a sweater stitched with the threads of Our dreams,
shoes made of puddles of tears from the lazy yawn instead of pain from my heart;
my heart can be my own heart, my heart can be my heart
My heart will feel only my love and my heart will give only my love

I could freely be selfish with the birds above me,
with the bees that hover the waterbed,
with the smells that linger near me,
and the trees that grow under my feet:

I won't have to share the love around me,
I won't have to give my love that feeds me
In this world that I have created,
I will only have eyes for my world, and my world will only have eyes for me
In this world that I have created,
the world can love me and I can love it back

O, in a world of my own . . .

Though it seemed like motion-sickness, the kettle is no longer whistling and the people around me yell and ask, "What is wrong with you? Why did you leave the kettle on?"

I fly away from them, onto the punch-red sofa
I sit
O, in a world of my own . . .
I wrote the original a couple months ago but only recently rewrote it

I wrote this because we all want to be selfish sometimes. This is a result of that want, that thought to be away from everyone and selfishly have your own land only to you

in our worlds, we all can be whoever we want, do whatever we want because we are not stars, no, we are comets (gods)
Making new things old
Is what I do
I drain the life
Out of everything
Sometimes I feel as though I’m too needy. Draining the people I rely on for emotional support. I need a lot of love to thrive. Sometimes I remain miserable to save those I love.
Evil isn’t caring more about yourself than others
But tricking others into caring more for you
Than themselves
falling out of love
easiest thing in the world
focus on yourself
It works.
Promise.
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