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Hashim Ashram Jun 30
I reek of the stench of fear as I gaze upon the tall, slender figure before me. He towers above me while I oppose him, weak and frail in comparison.

He takes his stance whilst the adrenaline rushes through my veins and I feel my body shiver in sheer terror.

His fists are quick to meet with my face with such turbulent, burning anger.
My head soon lands harshly on the canvas, and mere seconds pass before hammer fists rain down on me at my most vulnerable state.

The gore pours down and I taste the metallic warmth of my own blood,
the smell of carnage reaches my nose as I begin to embrace this elation.
As the abuse boils my blood and sickens my soul down to its core, I tell myself, “let them RAIN! RAIN! RAIN!"

I am once again the victim of this heartless cruel world.

As the trauma settled within my brain,
it felt like waves were crashing against my skull.
I barely held on to my consciousness while hammer fists continued to rain down on my face.
What is this creed that makes him believe that he must make me bleed, and bleed, and bleed?

Every time he sends a blow towards my liver, I feel my lungs ache for air, and I miss the taste of the wind.
Nevertheless, he refuses to slow down.
His attacks are relentless, as though he must settle this cold dispute by any means, even if it calls for him to break my bones.
My body slams against the concrete floor, he crushes me to my core, and I see my friends walking away from the corner of my eye.
If they weren't heartless, they would have checked if I’m okay
Does anyone know the struggle I endure?
I stomach the pain and swallow my pride,
I let go, and my eyes roll back as the warm blood trickles down my face.

As the trauma subsides and the dust settles, I question if he wished death upon me, or for me to lay here and cry in torment upon these wet white tiles.
I look up towards him as he just smiles,
A chunk of cold, unfeeling ice sits instead of his heart beneath his ribs.
I sit in my now cold blood and ponder,
My emotions rushing with turbulent power,
I am left to wonder if he had beaten me for a reason, or for the thrill and elatio
Lee Carter Apr 8
"Blasted black bats in belfry!

They blight the blessed bells!

I am bedeviled by beasts born without beauty nor belief.

Break them from their borrowed burrow!

Banish them back to where beasts belong...

Beneath the boots of their betters."
Darah Galbraith Jul 2019
You always have your
holier-than-thou attitude.
You always think that you are better,
but really it’s just rude.
Just because you’ve made your choice,
and they’ve made theirs,
doesn’t make you better.
Really no one cares.
Just calm down,
and really think it through.
You can’t choose for them,
you can only choose for you.
So how are you above them,
when you come from different places?
We all have our own story,
our own writing on our pages.
So when you make a choice,
and you think that it’s the right one,
just know that your voice
doesn’t speak for everyone.
Friendly reminder that your choices aren’t always the best for other people, and you don’t get the moral high ground for making a choice that other people cannot make.
religion was never the truth,
the difference between good and evil,
a meaning of an existence,
the truth within oneself,
when you can’t identify your truth you try to seek it from outside,
someone’s belief is not worth an acceptance of truth for one’s being,
don’t let a concept undermine your truth,
ideas that split humans into groups,
fighting with one another,
superiority is the quality of evil,
harmful morals,
the Evil won some fights throughout societies.
My book 'The Allure Of Time' is now available on amazon.
Glenn Currier Mar 2019
Sometimes diplomas are deleterious to a degree
it seems the cap, gown, and certificate holder
buys a telescope and starts using it to see
loses the ability to write freely and bolder
becomes particularly adept at speaking in snark -
so much easier than personally and intimately connecting -
preferring critique to finding and being a creative spark
becoming expert not so much from practice as from correcting.

I knew a man who used to be my friend
until he acquired his PhD
then he began to depart and ascend
too high for him to see little ole me
I knew a few too who were doctors and buddies
whose degrees didn’t pedestal them
who didn’t let their higher studies
erase their humor, make their hearts go dim.
This was inspired by Chris Sorrenti’s limerick, “Comments” (https://pathetic.org/poem/1552996563) in which he bemoans a certain guy named Dupreʹ who had an English Literature degree and habitually made snarky comments on others’ poems on a poetry website but never posted a poem of his own
hani aqil Mar 2018
negative b plus/minus square root b² minus 4ac over 2a, the quadratic formula;
the numbers don't lie.

10th June, 2002; my birth.
the numbers don't lie.

when y equals to 0 you can find
the x-intercepts;
the numbers don't lie.

#03-04; my unit.
the numbers don't lie.

I am better than everyone but
1
person in this room;
the numbers don't lie.

when y equals to a times (x-h)² plus k,
(h,k) is the vertex;
the numbers don't lie.

157 cm; my height.
the numbers don't lie.

negative b over 2a,
the axis of symmetry;
the numbers don't lie.

16th April, she told me she would love me forever,
23rd May, we kissed,
14th February, she told me to leave her forever;
glassy-hearted valentine;
the numbers don't lie.

negative b² minus 4 times a times c,
the discriminant;
the numbers don't lie.

43 kg; my weight.
the numbers don't lie.

my value is exponentially depleting but
I am still better than 7 out of 10 of you;
the numbers don't lie.

when x equals to 0 you can find
the y-intercept;
the numbers don't lie.

3 times, my drowning attempts failed;
the numbers don't lie.

I think my days are numbered;
I don't lie.
Trevor Dowe Nov 2017
Conceit and Condescension flow through my veins
I bleed Superiority
I'm a liar
I could use a dash or two of Confidence in my morning tea
I'd settle for a water with a little splash Vanity
I'm an echo of originality

Vainglorious is my halo
I'm not bothered by what other people think of me
I'm a fraud
I crave Narcissism in my burritos
I lust for Pride in my beer
I am a ghost of inspiration

Pride and Tyranny are my wings
My aura is Aloof
I'm a mask
I'll take a shot of Snobbery with my scotch, neat
I wish I had Arrogance in my head
I am  a mass hallucination
This is an inverted dichotomy of my self-perception. I focus more on the invisibility in real life, where here I am focusing on the elitist self-absorbed attributes that exist within me
Brent Kincaid Aug 2017
Prince Charming farts!
It’s a little known fact.
He’s a human after all,
No matter how he acts.
His poise may be excellent
His skin as smooth as gossamer
He will retain his calm
Even if he views a massacre.

Image, to the prince, is everything
He really doesn’t care for truth.
He has refined every gesture
Every moment since his youth.

Prince Charming belches!
But he’s careful with his breath.
To be seen as rude or low class
He feels is worse than death.
You must live up to his standards
Not be déclassé or dense
If you with to enjoy the company
Of the oh so charming prince.

Image, to the prince, is everything
He knows just who to please.
Even whiffs of pepper will not
Make Prince Charming sneeze.

But of course the troubles
Of those not in his class,
No matter how much they cry,
He’ll give them a royal pass.
Because his time is valuable
Where lesser souls are not.
You got to spend time with him.
Be glad for what you’ve got.

Prince Charming is a paragon
As everyone can plainly see.
All must bask in his magnificence
And of course, so does he.
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