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tell me how a love, so fierce and unbreakable
that it can withstand even the blade of Excalibur,
crumbles into dust in an instant?
because my father once loved my mother
with such fervor;
he inked his skin with her nicknames
and the beauty she wore.
he vowed forever to give all of him to her
and never dare lay a hand on her.
but the timeworn plot
finally became twisted
when he began pouring all his violent outbursts
onto her while she was bearing his children,
breaking every limb and bone in her body
until she begged him for mercy
to bring back the man,
who pleaded with her many times
to set down the same blade in her hand
that she found on her mother's deathbed,
then the time when i was still in her womb,
and the last time she placed the blade
around my throat.

every now and then that i think of my mere existence,
i ask myself what might have happened in the house
where my mother had been raised.
was it lively and loud,
or was it filled with deafening silence?
i also contemplate upon the source of the poison
running in my father's bloodstream.
where could it have come from?
was it from his own father,
or did it come from the blood on his very own hands?
because they turned him into a demon,
of which i became the victim of his wicked, manipulative schemes;
and they left my mother powerless against him,
forcing her to live such life
built on a twisted kind of love.

@boonthemoonluv
Maria Etre Nov 20
I got stuck
in a plot
                                        t
w
                              i                    
                                                s
                  t

and it made
me

A) Dizzy
B)  Sick
C) Light-headed
D) Aware

............(Answer)..............
Snow red fox Sep 28
The floors swallow me whole as the world keeps twisting my guts out,
That’s the only feeling of peace that I know of.

I can’t stop the constant spinning of my head, I rather just twist it off.

Twist twist twist the bolt fell off, no more spinning anymore.

Finally walking thru the blood filled streets, with a mind that stands still

I see the goblins running around,
scumming for trash and heads to give to the king.

The king that sits on the throne of heads,
just laughs as he crushes them underneath his fat filled ***.

I’m tired of the fantasy of peace, let me twist the head just back on.
I hope my head still is where I left it
Brianne Rose Sep 24
A T.V Turns On

"- In other news, the former Owner of a booming business has recently disappeared under certain unusual circumstances, Kathy?"

"That's right John, Mr. Hart, Age 60, was presumably going home one night, but his wife, Ellen Hart, Age 59, says he never made it back home. Ellen had thought that maybe he went out drinking with a couple of his co-workers and simply forgot to call home and let her know. However, when he didn't return home at his usual time Ellen then called his cellphone, but when he failed to answer she then called the authorities. Arthur Hart, his son, Age 30, was called in by police after being listed as a Prime Suspect but stated that the last time he saw his father was when his father gave him the Hawaiian branch of the family business. Having moved out to Hawaii shortly after the promotion, Arthur says he found himself incredibly busy and hadn't found ample time to visit either of his parents, and several co-workers further verified him having never left Hawaii long enough - or at all - to potentially kidnap or **** his father. The list of Suspects however is surprisingly short, frustrating Authorities and confusing those close to Mr. Hart as to why he even has any. The Son is now set to inherit the whole business, worth just under 5 billion, making him one of the youngest billionaires to exist! Furthermore -"

A T.V Turns Off

A man rises up from a desk, where a name plaque sits innocently, oblivious and unaware of the fact that it can no longer do its job. The man turns towards it, smiles at the plaque, picks it up and - almost as if it was a chore - tosses it into wastebasket beside the desk. The man then turns back around and leaves the formerly busy office, turning towards a firmly and passcode locked door. The man unlocks the door, opens it, walks in, and shuts it firmly behind him. Walking over to the lone freezer sitting almost innocently in the middle of the room, the man smiles yet again as he opens it with an air of laziness, now grinning wide as he speaks to the blue lipped, wide eyed, gentleman inside -

- The plaque is still unaware as it is lifted up and placed back upon the desk, it seems to proudly display its engraved name as it shines in the light -

"Hello Father"

- Sr. Hart
found an old notebook of mine that had some lost poems/stories inside, so here I am, posting them for your guys' enjoyment!
Ken Pepiton Aug 25
titles are clickt attention tuners, seek weak
- signal feint clicks and shush and beepx#$%

etaoin shrdlu - typesetter's apprentices shoveled
off cast lead type, using coal shovels, strong
Allie Oop characters - the medium of us,
we saw our selves in print on newsprint.

Öotzi, myceleum aware bearer of information,
fallen through time, to leave us thinking, how
hard has life been, upto now
.
Weirdly wise, the ever sense we can remember,
strengthening positions holding
satisfied minds, valencing
made common sense,
happy and free is better
than any other degree
of happy, free as a ***
in L.A. on Fourth Street, hip
to the Four Square ******* Mission,
east of Broadway, north of Central Market…

then, to now, fifty years,
then to my first child, was ten years,

now, my youngest granddaughters are turning ten,
and taking part in the ongoing recovery of all clean

thinking, sifted corn and sorted beans, dried seeds
from the sweetest watermelon contest, and best
squash for bottles. best for bowls, all good seed
we save for next year, every year, always

remember, once nobody knew anything,
but making better ways to stop hunger,

then war was one of the ways that worked
for winners, and for some survivors not involved,

but witnessing the scavenging, paid trade goods
for trophies taken from the putrid dead, before
the story tellers and tale bearers went their
separate ways, letting the news be as it may.

The medium we live and breathe in, now as living
text included by all faith's accounting systems,
whereby our very thoughts and intentions,
must be judged, very serious conscience,
book of life including metadata
and instance of idle word and waste time,
pure and mere psyence psighing consci-uses
ready and willing to let peace be made,
fixing firm foundations at each watering station,
corner stones and local quarrymen, towns

formed from prosperity on rails, full on wha-who
time flies past right now

progressive proof, a town like ours is now classic,
project mainstreet 2025, valenced on Main Street,
moral authority of the old town councils,
social servants steeped in social ordering craft,

The Stepford Wives, Ai all love that, and Lucy,
ai ai ai, so many, Frankenstein, and the fat forties,
coders living in freemind anarchical choice, like bugs.
ARPAnet spiders rode wireless before wireless was,
MAGA. Pre-Levittown Craftsman Homes,
from Sears, delivered t
o the rail head, lo, a hundred years ago,

and now, the whole cold world, is empty,
when we see it on TV, from L.A. on a Sally Ann
Chromebook with a Starbucks Loyalty Cookie,
allowing T-1 bandwidth, yeah,

accept

Most of modernity is permanent,
only now is better because to get here,

one stepping, one daying, one time on
a magic loom, as a thread, picking up motes
so fine, super fine dust twisted in during dying

so the colors feel inviting, come find how
we pass the bar, where judgement begins,

we give account down to those secrets held
in our core experience knowings used, amateur

first times are only chances more often than not,
never know, when a particular stream meanders,

how many times does one cross the river
of no return, and see Robert Mitchum and
Jane Russell, on a raft with a kid thinking
something's not right,…

There was no upriver going on a raft,
we knew that from time with Huck'n'Jim,

back before the nth degree insanity hit,
minority reports, pulled from trend bots,

you'd best believe believe's a verb,
and love is, too, so do it, love to learn,

no lie holds any truth, never did, never
was a time when a lie that saved a life,
lost otherwise, that essential untellable
whys
secret agent man mind set from TV,
YouTube views virally sort attentions…

spin casting, bait perceiving, front face
sensory array, bad boy squint, tight smile,
mere hint of amusement, thinking, something

Blockbuster was a thing, things changed,
vhs hold hordes of reflected light transcended
on to magnetic tape with short fidelity,
for high fidelity consumer camcorders

the time from technicolor to home video,
in my generation, effectively raising the bar

as far as production standards used in the ruse,
set all skepticism aside, unloose your credulous

child like soul, tender child self, so good, too bad
good does not pay, save to those initiated in the art

of freereading and writing things hearable, listen,
nothing, eh? No white noise, fans, transformers,
no chainsaws,
with that whine
of a Stihl Dylan loved, once repaired
by a chronicle entity, who worked
at that chainsaw shop, at that time,
and knew the music of a Stihl,
so he would notice the quiet, then,
- chain broke…
wind in trees, pine soft, crickets and frogs,
and sometimes a bat, even coyotes, way off
as the world spins toward tomorrow again.

Who told you you gotta serve some body?
What would you do if the truth made you free?

Where would it be if this were the answer?

When you pray, expect the consequences,
immediately after you know the law,
the law is canceled, all a major lie,
for ever sense manstealing paid.

Train up a child by his stature at two,
he becomes a useful servant, worthy
of great honor on the field of glory,
as our side celebrates hate, pushing back
harder, pushemback harder, break that line

High jinx, glory years, sacred first to learn,
programing is mostly balance weights
and measures, cost to do, cost to undo.
Cost to think it done, without me.

What is the genre for periods
of preparation for a redo of an old war,

a political-religious agreement
under which business is conducted,
continuously as the believers multiply,
as believing children are reared to leave
being the why for the orders how come

we need to work to fix the flaw in us all
for the all mighty, all merciful?

How, indeed, did it come to pass,
that those in fine conditions,
gilded and bejeweled boxes
of old bones and napkins and shards of alabaster,
said
certainly the very anointing for burial alabaster box,
got t' be, right, just waiting for your guide to find,

very precious, only six other fragments have been
made publically known, the power, the faith sink,
like a battery, believe it or not, the pitch in faith,
hold, sticky, used
has moved a mountain of alabaster chips,
since we started doing tours with the kids,

we pay a different one each time, seven lads,
sons of those three sisters, who inherited the box,
and fought about it until the peace maker was called,
he broke it all down,
free, Google Voice to Verizon, across eight time zones,
like we are in the same room, but day and night,

anyway, peace maker, old backslider hardened artist,
living on tech time earned on a bet about ever learning,
gets a bit in each fractal shard of that old anointing
on and on, some times, good grows, and corruption,
proceeds to gain U, the mind meld experience,

a Taylor Swift Opera from the Future NOW!

Yeah, I know a guy, in the works, managing
the spending opportunities, keeping juices
works with concentrates, original intensity,
all mental, leg-al legal regally legal
just a touch,
a taste,
fact of the ruliad, once conceived and comprehended,
wind in the face, gasp and wish it were, as we may
say we can imagine, using an ego function, I-magi,
- how wide are we sideways? As a we?
Grown up, and dementia free, just think it clear
as one of those movie eternity porches, stoical
pillars of wisemen not forgotten, ai know them,

as curious boys knew their teachers, ai know Plato,
big lunk, broad beam ox of a man, with a following,

amanuensis scribal trainees, hanging on every word,

now, in modern database solutions to 640K sort fields,
we adapt the magic fractalling praxis used to shatter,
viz, first license to say, videlicet,
the afore mentioned alabaster box, empty
of its storied ointment for the burial to be,
shattered at the tone, 60 cycle hummm,
ordinarily out of sync, if you think about it, but
we need not, it was so long ago, and you know,

abide is a positioning command from a will,
abide with me is a request, however saying we,
abide with ye forever, if I were in the whosoever.
I would think the thoughts alive, at least.
The whosoever who heard the knocking,
and said, sure, I heard you knocking and said
to myself, what if this once it was you, and wow,

I must admit,
in the ruliad realm
of possibility, the math works.




All boys in those days, idly sayd
that'll be the day, guy like me
wished to be like in the movies, in
the gang, singing cowboys on the range,

eeipee ai yay, real old, cast iron men
made in the imaginations of those,
made to pay alliegiant attention,
mandatory civics classes, and
current events, sponsored
by Breck, and eventually
only her hair dresser knew…

until from nowhere, the world blooms
with silver foxes far beyond compare,

since she was just seventeen, and we knew
what that means in Arizona, so we waited,
too, long, who knows,
we got a new mind,

the act of worship, the verb, knowing,
it does seem simple at first, lieving be. Okeh.
Share it where it hurts.
Àŧùl Aug 4
Joe was a teenager unhappy with his bed,
For it creaked a lot whenever he moved.

He asked his parents to get it fixed,
But they told him to grow up & earn.

Soon his parents were both dead,
In an accident, in a ****** one.

Though he escaped from the accident,
Poor Joe was traumatised unfathomably.

His parents had a great accidental insurance,
And they were so sincere in doling out the claim.

Cremated them in the electric crematorium,
He was left with a million dollars and an urn.

He had a girlfriend, Jonita, very beautiful,
She was very active in life and in the bed.

Tiaan-tiaan, karr-karr, chian-chian,
Creeaak-creeaak, creeaak-creeaak.

Helped him move beyond the sordid memories,
She helped him soothe himself with the love.

The bed used to screech whenever they played,
They jumped on the bed, and they danced.

Rhythmically their dance lasted for 7 minutes,
Sometimes they played for multiple sessions.

Jonita one day told Joe to be serious,
For life's not just about love and ***.

Sure, Joe had a million dollars,
But that was what he inherited.

Now Joe must be serious and get a job,
For the inheritance & insurance are limited.

Jonita negatively motivated him,
Challenging Joe to earn something.

Joe promised to start earning,
But asked Jonita to marry him.

She consented, and they got married,
Kept the ceremony very much private.

Just the two of them, and two witnesses,
In that morbid-looking court house.

'That money is limited,' realised Joe,
Prepared to get employed with the Force.

He grew up and hustled harder in the fray,
And achieved getting enlisted in the Force.

Jonita was already happy, now she was proud,
Her stallion now wore the royal blue plumes.

"You're my centaur," she used to say happily,
Whenever he'd dress up for reporting at work.

Truly he was a centaur for her, and for the Force too,
Guiding his jet through the angelic skies.

'Life is good,' so thought Joe,
He trusted his every bro.

His friends assured him of his wife's safety,
Of her safety, Joseph indeed want a surety.

Joe went away for a war, call of duty, you know,
But before he went, he had a battle in the bed.

A ferocious one, with blaring metal in the background,
He drilled Jonita deep until they both bled.

There were scars on Joe's back,
As if a cat scratched him bad.

Even Jonita had hickeys and bite marks,
As if a bunny had nipped her *******.

Her shoulders bore witness to love,
And to ******* of that dove.

The news spoke of a war that broke out,
And Joe received the deployment orders.

Now, soon he went away for the war,
He missed her during the month away.

The bed's creaking he missed the most,
The centaur avoided stroking his bird.

He focused on the war, and the battle plan,
Also, he wanted to save some memories to share.

He shot, he fired, and dropped some bombs,
Killed many soldiers, maimed some others.

He also downed many enemy fighter jets,
Evaded enemy fire, engaged them in dogfights.

Amongst all the targets he hit,
The enemy soldiers were decimated.

And they won the war sooner than expected.

He shifted his focus from the war to the lover,
But he planned something more.

Joseph wanted to surprise Jonita,
So he didn't let her know he was coming home.

When he arrived back,
He wanted to read her eyes.

So, he used his set of keys.

'Pleasant surprise' he expected,
But he heard the bed creaking.

The same way it did when they made love,
The same way it did when she rided his lightning.

He loaded his gun.

Nervous, he climbed up, expecting the unspeakable,
But peered inside the bedroom to find her alone.

Sure, she was naked,
But not with anyone else.

She was gyrating to his memories,
There was his name in her whispers.

And all this while,
Her eyes were closed.

Gyrating and vibrating,
Cupping her pillows.

It was her own hands,
Not anybody else's.

He unloaded the gun.

Joe was lucky,
He had Jonita.
A poem inspired by my favourite English song.

My HP Poem #1974
©Atul Kaushal
How foolish is it to leave fate
To leave fate in the hands of luck
How could I help being so moonstruck
It does carry a great weight

I bet it all on a coin toss
Heads I tell you; tails I do not
Either way it was worth a shot
Sooner or later, I would get my point across

Although the answer was never important
It was the look you gave after
Like you were falling from the rafters
But we both knew this would be inadvertent

So, I told you, hoping it wouldn’t be to no avail
It’s funny how a coin toss can decide your fate
And almost make you miss something great
As I put the coin away, knowing it landed on tails
It’s cold, it’s cold, I hear someone say
I turn to glance at an empty sky
Why, not even the birds want to fly
I think to myself, how much further to the bay

There’s footprints where I am now
Memories of those left behind
Or maybe ones of those hoping to find
A reason to disavow

The snow falls and I hear laughter
I turn to look, but it is just me
My mind takes me back to the sea
But that was a disaster; its time for a new chapter

Again, I hear, its cold, its cold
I glance to find a mirror
Staring at me with my reflection so clear
Is this how it will all unfold

I hear a door crack and my eyes open
There's a man with a key, looking at me
He asks how I am going to be
I try to run, but this a cell, of where to I’m frozen
Zolayshia Apr 15
Love.
A dagger to my heart.
Words cannot describe how much I love you.
I would steal for you.
I would **** for you.
You said you loved me.
But you were always with her.
As you lay on the ground heart beating.
I finally felt how much you loved me even to the last beat.
Dagger in my hand.
Cherry blossom tree above us.
Covered in blood.
I lay down.
Blood dripping.
Slowly admiring the beauty of the tree.
Closing my eyes as my blood for my wrists makes a puddle into the water next to us.
You said you loved me and I never thought it was true.
I took your love with me as we finally rested.
I love you too.
It's a dark end don't read it if you don't want to be depressed.
Jeremy Betts Apr 14
•°• A Twisted Classic •°•

Sing along if you know the words...

...this is a life that never ends
Yes it'll break you if you can't bend
Some people...tried to warn us,
Tried to tell us what it was
But we continue blindly past forever just because...

©2024
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