#dumpster
An eye for an eye is universally considered to be justified
But you'll find that everybody's blind and nothing's changed, not a single mind
Hear the gear suddenly grind to a halt but refuse to acknowledge the bind
Sittin' dead center of the dumpster fire proclaimin' it'll be fine
In general we prefer to pretend to be blind
You can't get off this ride, I still tried, found myself tied to life for life with no guide
Cried for just a pinch, wasn't given an inch, never made a sound, in that silence is where hope died
Beaten down by everything around, can't hide the tanned hide or tattered and torn pride
Misty eyed and sleep deprived, insecurities weaponized by myself for myself, individualized personality traits willfully lobotomized to fit in with them other guys
Expertly hypnotized to pull the wool over your own two black eyes
Don't question why a lie and the truth are on the same side, like both sides never tried
Confusion spreads world wide, a close encounter of the mindless kind
Unchecked pride in a prise for the loser will compromise any humanity that tries
Let's go to the chart shall we guys? BOOM! The proof is in the lines, inhumane insanity on the rise
Allowing a personalized demise to arise, spoken to yourself or another, a lies a lie no matter the size
In a black and white society there's no blue skies
The grass is fuucked beyond repair, no green anywhere, I've checked front and back and both sides
Who decides where the status quo marker resides
Keep 'em mystified by vague who, what, where, when and why's
Demonize even the idea of a question so questionable answers to puzzling actions are never scrutinized
God won't mind if I send one his way as long as it's not mine, so everyone's waiting for a purge scenario type grand prize
All of a sudden life can be nullified, rationalized as good over evil by twisted minds
A shady shadow enterprise, faceless behind an eyes wide shut disguise
This is what ignorance buys
A centralized love of hate, morality slides, sheep clothing stock on the rise
Right outside one of the good guys with a gun hides while inside our future cries
No hope, no surprise, no answer to prayer screamed at the skies
Only able to watch the eyes of innocence as it dies, proving evil not only survives but thrives
©2023
Sep 18, 2023
Sep 18, 2023 at 5:11 PM UTC
that feel when you crawl out of your dumpster, and see your **** neighbor in a bikini at the community cesspool
Jul 21, 2019
Jul 21, 2019 at 5:23 PM UTC
Never sleep without your shoes on your feet,
I forced my mouth to quiet my cries,
for fear of another whip from the belt,
she frowned as if to me tell me, "not another sound."
Morning finally shined in,
but momma better not get woke up before ten,
so I waited until the night before I started in again,
"mommy, he was my dad that died too,"
avoiding eye contact, "no you belong to that ***** that gave birth to you, "
Trying one more time pleading the way 5-year
old's do, "but you're my mommy, I love you and
I miss daddy too,"
Suddenly my body slammed to the floor, realizing my shoes were the color of blue,
fear, pain, the taste of blood not knowing to stay still or try to move,
could never guess which
to do, no matter her
mood,
Grieving for my daddy,
begging for her love... she couldn't because I wasn't her blood,
my sister called her boyfriend, "daddy," though,
ironically she had my dad's last name but not me strangely so.
That cold Chicago night my shoelaces were tied extra tight,
in fear, she'd put me in the dumpster like so many times she dared.
Always sleep with your
shoes on your feet,
never get comfortable...
like innocent prey you'll
be eat.
~SacredInkedblood™
©2018
Ven Jencie Clifton Arnold
Nov 24, 2018
Nov 24, 2018 at 3:10 AM UTC
The vineyard growing out
of decrepit stationmaster’s hovel flays
the skin of buses and trains alike
faces long and
pe eli n g.
Atop a rubber sea I wade,
sunlight ebbing awash
on my strong shoulders;
in pinks
purples
blue and green and grey.
The soot of early midafternoon chokes
up, curling down
my spine,
hug from a friend
in the skeleton of a regulation
seat my mind lays
to rest, soporific
sweet.
Here lie the ruins of a plainsman’s kingdom,
ghost fox says.
Here lie the dust
y wings of Corvus corax, grey
in age. Here lie the
loves and the
dreams and the
hearts of my
ancestors
wholly unholy in their pagan worship,
but:
the vineyard is a graveyard is a home
wild to hold
tame at heart
and there lies my body,
(anything I want it to be)
grapes a-swinging just out of reach-
The fox gets his prize
how sweet it tastes on my tongue.
Apr 26, 2018
Apr 26, 2018 at 1:19 AM UTC
We called it dump country
Tons and tons of junk
Old bicycles and plenty
Of bottles from the drunks.
The legal dump sites
Had not been arranged.
This was now the city,
Things yet to be arranged.
Four little kids, broke ***
Not much money for toys.
It was the end of the fifties,
Bad times for little boys.
We made our own adventure,
Way before Disneyland.
We left right after breakfast
To us, the whole trip was grand.
We found amazing things
And brought them all home.
I found a gold painted Buddha
Under a kind of glass dome.
Jim found a tricycle there
And cleaned it up real nice.
It was a really good dump site
We went a lot more than twice.
We called it dump country
We had it to ourselves.
Just us four busy bumpkins.
Santa’s ***** little elves.
We found wheels and things
To build our own little cars.
We got cut up a bit sometimes.
I still have one of the scars.
Over in dump country
The one nearest to our place
Sam found a bit of money
One penny with an Indian face.
But what we found there
Added up to a treasure chest.
It sounds silly but they may be
The memories that were best.
Dec 17, 2015
Dec 17, 2015 at 8:22 PM UTC