#lampoon - Hello Poetry

Never have I ever been chosen such picking petals: loves-me-not, always ending up even; ironic for someone who's odd He’s so good at convincing people how unfair to believe thy words-so-simple “Mr. So-pure” forbade to touch by min fingertips that bring grudge. Proud of his ignorance, seems like cause of my arrogance. While his burden fell into quiescence yet I hear it, so loud. Those who are deaf will never get my nerve. 'Cause no one can, no one ever did. One shall pick the dagger over me, Not to be the hero but my enemy.

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Jun 10, 2025

Jun 10, 2025 at 6:45 AM UTC

blakheorteofficial

Angel’s Trumpet under My Skin

Never have I ever been chosen such picking petals: loves-me-not, always ending up even; ironic for someone who's odd He’s so good at convincing people how unfair to believe thy words-so-simple “Mr. So-pure” forbade to touch by min fingertips that bring grudge. Proud of his ignorance, seems like cause of my arrogance. While his burden fell into quiescence yet I hear it, so loud. Those who are deaf will never get my nerve. 'Cause no one can, no one ever did. One shall pick the dagger over me, Not to be the hero but my enemy.

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You were asking me to lead Someone at my level I match wits And I doubt — it was peculiar That yought suitor eminently decodes a liar ’Cause there is no amount of time to tell What makes it desperately disparate? ***** hush-hush, lad has no regret Such insult to the phantom you won’t get. Just to feel the freedom — I must exist When everyone's deeply in love While I’m deeply indifferent Perhaps, I abated my level Through the braids of disenchantment To the slave of obscurity Finally... the lingering sparks flew away And now you are asking me to leave.

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Jul 26, 2025

Jul 26, 2025 at 2:09 AM UTC

blakheorteofficial

Illicit Fond

You were asking me to lead Someone at my level I match wits And I doubt — it was peculiar That yought suitor eminently decodes a liar ’Cause there is no amount of time to tell What makes it desperately disparate? ***** hush-hush, lad has no regret Such insult to the phantom you won’t get. Just to feel the freedom — I must exist When everyone's deeply in love While I’m deeply indifferent Perhaps, I abated my level Through the braids of disenchantment To the slave of obscurity Finally... the lingering sparks flew away And now you are asking me to leave.

16

This lamb now caged with lions; Soon to ride with horses Face my subjects,— With an overwritten expression, Cursed by ballyhoos of vultures. What a lampoon to be drawn in humanity,— As they pass to my sight,— Praying for confession— For a blessing of a new fashion, May the tomb be the veil of thy busts Beating drums, I shalt not stagger. On this stage,— I untied my cloth, Withstand the shaken land, I hear the wailing of the sand Mary whines blood this end.. Her Son's sleigh sweeping me.. Thy queen shalt flood— her fabric traught's pile. I knelt on the ground,— People whimpered with no sound —"Be tamed Black Stalwart, for thou art forgiven." To here falls the dillydoun's saw... "The raging agony and weight of strife,— May I beseech for Mercy! God, save this ****** ghost!— Never wilt I feel the land again... Light, hoise me up,—when my face sheds.." 'Whence the uproar sham this throne blown!' (THUD)

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May 10, 2020

May 10, 2020 at 2:26 AM UTC

fheyra

"Resurrection"– Execution

This lamb now caged with lions; Soon to ride with horses Face my subjects,— With an overwritten expression, Cursed by ballyhoos of vultures. What a lampoon to be drawn in humanity,— As they pass to my sight,— Praying for confession— For a blessing of a new fashion, May the tomb be the veil of thy busts Beating drums, I shalt not stagger. On this stage,— I untied my cloth, Withstand the shaken land, I hear the wailing of the sand Mary whines blood this end.. Her Son's sleigh sweeping me.. Thy queen shalt flood— her fabric traught's pile. I knelt on the ground,— People whimpered with no sound —"Be tamed Black Stalwart, for thou art forgiven." To here falls the dillydoun's saw... "The raging agony and weight of strife,— May I beseech for Mercy! God, save this ****** ghost!— Never wilt I feel the land again... Light, hoise me up,—when my face sheds.." 'Whence the uproar sham this throne blown!' (THUD)

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