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#mayhem
freaky minds in control with out of control actions and gobbldygook words to match
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Apr 9
Apr 9, 2026 at 9:49 AM UTC
watching the world burn
She killed his bees and absolutely ruined the ninth symphony He descends attempting to **** his rage with a drink a drink laced with 麻薬 (mayaku) The menu is all over pornographic walls except for the television covered wall screening the life of someone once in peril He calls tonight Joyride over phantom roads in search of honey from a queen bee He'll sting her once for fun then again and again until he gets the job done "That day of wrath, that day that day of wrath, that day the trumpets wonderous calls sounding abroad he descends into Hell That day of wrath that day of wrath"
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Mar 24
Mar 24, 2026 at 3:38 PM UTC
Korova Milkbar
Press play. Testing one, testing two Mic call, set stage Audio check, background check On and off Wrong or right? Right or left? Im not sure You dont know You dont care...but you care. You want to know how i feel. You dont listen. But you hear me. Do you really hear me? Im screaming at the top of my lungs now. Hello? Hello??? Anybody there? Oh right, my bad All the screaming goes on in my head. Oh so i need to tell you that? Aloud? Like. With my mouth and my real actual voice? I dont think so. I cant speak. Words stolen. Voice might crack. I cant break. No. Not visibly. So im running to you To complain about you. Wait what? No stop. Sit. Gather your thoughts. Who are you? My thoughts are locked. Behind my minds eye A field of vision. Blurred vision. Pressure. So much pressure. I hear a voice. Voices. What are your thoughts? I CANT SAY THEM. Deep breath. Calm down. Kinda odd Might be wierd. Like a cycle. Cycle... Cycle... Cycle... Stop. Start again. Gather your thoughts. Press play.
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Nov 21, 2025
Nov 21, 2025 at 7:27 AM UTC
FLICKER
Deep into the night, when the silence sits in, all I hear are my echoing thoughts. In the deafening darkness and whispering winds, I'm home.
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Oct 14, 2024
Oct 14, 2024 at 11:55 PM UTC
Mayhem
Imagine a life without buildings and structures mayhem of all sorts.
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Apr 24, 2023
Apr 24, 2023 at 11:35 AM UTC
A post-apocalyptic world
YESTERDAY is gone, so make room for TODAY, the OTHER DAYS were HECTIC have now GONE AWAY, A DAY of COMPLETE MAYHEM has now GONE ASTRAY, It was looking PRETTY ROUGH, but "WHAT CAN I SAY???" Just HAPPY to KNOW that I AM STILL HERE, YESTERDAY'S TOUGH ISSUES have now DISAPPEARED, LORD PLEASE BLESS MY WEEK, OH, THIS I DO PRAY, YESTERDAY IS LONG, GONE, GETTING READY FOR ANOTHER DAY!!! B.R. Date: 1/31/2024
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Aug 25, 2024
Aug 25, 2024 at 5:40 PM UTC
Yesterday
The staining aroma we so avidly inhaled in the reign of night At tables made of glass that reflet the moonlight The faint white illumination lit our misdeeds of younger Keeps me reminiscent of days of simpler Plagued & blessed by lack of consideration No respect for damnation We lived without hesitation to be free To feel we truly needed to be I sit alone now inhaling what was once shared and sought-after Feeling but trying not to think-of those days of before Watching storms roll through, making me feel spectator to memories of more I retreat into myself, knowing those days are over I could never imagine I'd look back on those days and call them simpler. I keep running from what i can't see and it's lead me in circles Cycle through the times to get to the next
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Dec 19, 2021
Dec 19, 2021 at 11:22 PM UTC
Cigarettes
If only I knew how to mold bricks out of lone I’d build you a house And paint it with flowers That mimic the colourless hues of your gaze Leaves, I’d tie to stooping fingers Of our barren talks Fruits with moonlight in their stout tummies your chapped lips They envy the sweetness of Do you know? (Too bold a flattery, you say— Dare me then; dare you) Gentle I’d go Show them the tree And they’d make their nests In its laden boughs A crown on your head Weaved out of patience I’d softly place If only I knew a way past this barricade That together we built A thousand years ago I’d be a flock of wild geese Guiding you out Oh, my fluttering wings Calmed in the sky’s blue embrace I’d soar around in winters cruel I’d watch and watch The edges of our land A bed I’d carve Out of roses and dawns Hang up my rivers By the glass windows shivering in our storm Oh, there is a kingdom I would like to save A bunch of bluebirds, and a quiet queen The slender moon far, far away If only I knew A melody strong enough To cure this aching rebellion Oh, if I did! If I— I watched, and watched the shores Of our land No ships came with their armours ready Your own bluebirds, They fight now the flowers They ravage the fruits If only I had a drop of divinity Sulking somewhere inside me I’d banish their light souls Out of their bodies But bluebirds, Are pretty And so is the mayhem And so is silence, And you aridity Lurk at a distance, I know not What to build out of this lone
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Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 3:08 PM UTC
There is a kingdom I would like to save
If only I knew how to mold bricks out of lone I’d build you a house And paint it with flowers That mimic the colourless hues of your gaze Leaves, I’d tie to stooping fingers Of our barren talks Fruits with moonlight in their stout tummies your chapped lips They envy the sweetness of Do you know? (Too bold a flattery, you say— Dare me then; dare you) Gentle I’d go Show them the tree And they’d make their nests In its laden boughs A crown on your head Weaved out of patience I’d softly place If only I knew a way past this barricade That together we built A thousand years ago I’d be a flock of wild geese Guiding you out Oh, my fluttering wings Calmed in the sky’s blue embrace I’d soar around in winters cruel I’d watch and watch The edges of our land A bed I’d carve Out of roses and dawns Hang up my rivers By the glass windows shivering in our storm Oh, there is a kingdom I would like to save A bunch of bluebirds, and a quiet queen The slender moon far, far away If only I knew A melody strong enough To cure this aching rebellion Oh, if I did! If I— I watched, and watched the shores Of our land No ships came with their armours ready Your own bluebirds, They fight now the flowers They ravage the fruits If only I had a drop of divinity Sulking somewhere inside me I’d banish their light souls Out of their bodies But bluebirds, Are pretty And so is the mayhem And so is silence, And you aridity Lurk at a distance, I know not What to build out of this lone
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60
Thoughts and Prayers They burn Ashtray of humanity Incense offering There is no god Thoughts and Prayers
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Apr 13, 2021
Apr 13, 2021 at 1:21 AM UTC
Gunshot
I am but a few words, Mindful of manners and mayhem. My dreams come in waves of plenty, Yet I spare only a few. I mumble and tumble over them, They beg no quarter. Yet wish to be heard, I silence what wishes to speak. Yet lives on only in single memory, I dance around in cryptic self-wonder. But must answer in plainish ways, Is it the punishment of living onward? Am I to be the self translator of self? Cursing but not ending, Living but not yet dead. What possible way of misery is this? What cantankerous absolute point of view is worth seeing first? Am I the wild one? Set forth to wander a desert made by others. Perish the thought I survive someone else’s dream, That I live the uncontrolled controlled. What manner of mindset does the fool endure? What crept, slithered, painstaking idea became my own? My dream, is it? My life, is it? My sadness, my madness, the ups and downs, is it? Who lives of me? Who lives for me? Who desires to see me and not demand compensation? Does the wind blow in my favor? This tossing and turning of mayhem and manner is outwardly atrocious, It begs, it pleads, it demands as like a child. Am I still? By others do I mature or am I already? Questions and personal answers, But who’s right? What desire of manner is of self or of others? I ask and yet self reply, I see yet seen only others self. This is the madness of this world, Am I of you or am I of me?
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Feb 13, 2021
Feb 13, 2021 at 1:40 PM UTC
Of You or Me
Just wandering in my head Amongst confusing emptiness Complete isolation a Kind loneliness that Sings derisive laughter Onto a burdened soul in Need of placidity Pieces of broken heart Out of my control Lost in my mind Lacking gravity Outside in Consciously imploding silently Knowing nothing certain
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Jan 6, 2021
Jan 6, 2021 at 3:05 AM UTC
Jackson *******
The waves are calling me I think it’s time I go now The thoughts are crashing inside my head Like the waves crash on the shore   Maybe if I listen to their calling And get immersed into the depth of the ocean They will decimate me once and for all And finally, I will be in peace. With no hurt, no emotion   I certainly don’t mean anything to anyone I think it’s time I go and untie the knot I got caught in the mayhem. My mind is drained From asking thyself, whether to quit or not?
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Aug 31, 2020
Aug 31, 2020 at 5:07 PM UTC
'Waves are calling me'
A distant village, far from here Where people reside with love and care Untouched by the worldly mayhem Nothing there is illusory or sham A corner of heaven it is. My heart lies in peace It's the only place where loads of endorphins release
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Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 11:27 AM UTC
' A distant village'
The Vow my brain will not be silent my heart won’t skip a beat the world is way to violent the sun has lost its heat what is going to take place after it all is said and done we need to succeed and embrace and know that humans have won we all retain the power to stop this mayhem now it will take a worldly shower it will take mankind's vow.... Brian Hill - 2020 # 172
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Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 9:28 AM UTC
The Vow
<> *“rootless in shallows of momentary mayhem and no matter the change in horizon, there is always some thing to be found that could remind me of the worst ways I have ever been.”* from “Harlequin Days of Fecund Fervor” by Victoria <> rereading these your words, upset forces me to break a recent vow, my own writing banished, now faceless in the ranks of just another poet, busted in rank, chose my own decommissioning but then your momentary mayhem plea, fecund you, your third harlequin, states construct! stay the constriction, the recalling of our worst worsts, for there is always something to be found, recalled, that the horizon’s only constant is constant change, especially the worst worsts I am colored by your treats, your word plums ripe even out of season, and the mayhem is mine only mine, robbed you for it is I, rootless, given up my planting, then the cobblestones of old new york, trip me up, saying even old things such as you, have a prime yet to come, stones fecund seeding, predicting I am not done, just undone, and fetuses within this dying body, may yet be carried to term, may yet, maybe, may be, but may be caesarean stillborn rambling this, mostly musty unclear, so summarizations a sensible thing, a pardon requested for clarity is a sometime thing. rare are the days that the terracotta colored soil darkens my fingernails, it is dried blood from my scratching deep beneath the skin’s topsoil, but nothing grows that’s whole, warped are the word fruits. my soup is hot water with salt, a tasty dish apropos for one whose growths are rootless in the shallow, infertile dirt of stones that reside in the shallows of a garden of mine own fecund may-hem of the grey fall sky autopsy turvy
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Nov 7, 2019
Nov 7, 2019 at 11:56 AM UTC
rootless in shallows of momentary mayhem
<> *“rootless in shallows of momentary mayhem and no matter the change in horizon, there is always some thing to be found that could remind me of the worst ways I have ever been.”* from “Harlequin Days of Fecund Fervor” by Victoria <> rereading these your words, upset forces me to break a recent vow, my own writing banished, now faceless in the ranks of just another poet, busted in rank, chose my own decommissioning but then your momentary mayhem plea, fecund you, your third harlequin, states construct! stay the constriction, the recalling of our worst worsts, for there is always something to be found, recalled, that the horizon’s only constant is constant change, especially the worst worsts I am colored by your treats, your word plums ripe even out of season, and the mayhem is mine only mine, robbed you for it is I, rootless, given up my planting, then the cobblestones of old new york, trip me up, saying even old things such as you, have a prime yet to come, stones fecund seeding, predicting I am not done, just undone, and fetuses within this dying body, may yet be carried to term, may yet, maybe, may be, but may be caesarean stillborn rambling this, mostly musty unclear, so summarizations a sensible thing, a pardon requested for clarity is a sometime thing. rare are the days that the terracotta colored soil darkens my fingernails, it is dried blood from my scratching deep beneath the skin’s topsoil, but nothing grows that’s whole, warped are the word fruits. my soup is hot water with salt, a tasty dish apropos for one whose growths are rootless in the shallow, infertile dirt of stones that reside in the shallows of a garden of mine own fecund may-hem of the grey fall sky autopsy turvy
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35
Close But I can only see from a distance A thick dense fog stands in between I ******* wish to god I could see It’s so beautiful over there Somewhere I cannot define The air is fresh The grass is green Paradise, as If I was in a dream I walk through a war to get there A ****** butchered scene Still it feels like home And I find it hard to leave I thrive in the mayhem but it does not benefit me Set me free of my memories I want to stay where the grass is green
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Feb 19, 2019
Feb 19, 2019 at 11:19 PM UTC
Insanity
Inside           I am                  Chaos, Furious soul. Outside              with You, I Mayhem.
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Oct 6, 2018
Oct 6, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC
Asylum
The heart bleeds A crimson red Destruction and Mayhem On the bend Lifeless corpses Maggots and flies Clean the once living bodies That now cling to the floor Death and his horse Have so much work They enlist the help Of the fates at work Plagues rise From hollowed graves Killing everything in sight Leaving nothing but decay Souls arise The sorrow of mankind Death follows swiftly As a helping guide Pointing to their once warm home Now but a cold and lifeless feast Acknowledging self pity The soul does weep Crying out for salvation Of their once beautiful temple Leaving so suddenly They take flight Life seems pointless In the aftermath of plague Souls scream out In hopes of something safe
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Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 5:10 PM UTC
Rotting Anguish
Passion in her heart and mayhem in her mind, a dangerous combination, the two combined....
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Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 8:32 AM UTC
Dangerous
Passion in her heart and mayhem in her mind, a dangerous combination, the two combined....
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Aug 17, 2024
Aug 17, 2024 at 1:52 PM UTC
Dangerous
trolls have a lot of idle time on their aggravating hands and it has been noticed that they move in trolling bands were these individuals to find a more useful pastime others wouldn't be sensing their provocative lime oh yes the trolls are well and truly on the loose causing much mayhem like an uninhibited moose they patrol both by day and by night dispensing their plaguing sort of blight if you've ever felt a troll breathing down your neck it'll make you cry out get the abhor off my deck
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Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 8:54 PM UTC
Trolls
daunting nonstop rains, such mayhem landslides and pains; rain: boon if not bane!
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Jun 21, 2018
Jun 21, 2018 at 1:15 PM UTC
Atrocious monsoon
A boy goes to school
 And tears his schoolmates apart
 With metal piercing bullets
 This is normal now. Igor Goldkind
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Feb 17, 2018
Feb 17, 2018 at 4:18 PM UTC
Haiku