#roaches
i hate it here
in my head,
roaches live
inside my head
calling me
all sorts of names
wanting me
to stab my veins
i hate it here
where lays my heart
worms infested
the sinful scars
feeding into
this world of ours.
Aug 21, 2020
Aug 21, 2020 at 3:47 AM UTC
It's all for the one's you'll never meet
a word
a system
a building
a philosophy
Their onus is ownership
intended or otherwise
what will you leave behind?
Feb 13, 2020
Feb 13, 2020 at 10:51 AM UTC
Oh the horror and the consequence
for mankind disappeared
up came the ants, and roaches
all of our chips, cashiered
The battle for supremacy
stalemate went on for years
the ants building colonies
as roaches build, careers
In the end it was inevitable
ants just not able to compete
the roaches all were lawyers
laws, legislation, to secrete
"We need to build more cities!'
the ants did cry, bemoan
but the roaches held the leans and notes
and every inch of land and ant, they owned
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 9:32 AM UTC
I dislike writing about happy things. I also dislike sad things. I like writing me things. I dislike cliche poems and stories. Hello, I'm me. Unknown. Unheard of. I tell tales. Just some ******* tales. The brain is the scariest part of me. Well it scares all of us, doesn't it? I'm horrifically depressed. I'll say it now. I guess you could say I am cliche. My life consists of many people being ups and many friends being downs. I quit drugs. I quit *** I quit cigarettes too.
It makes me want a cigarette.
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
We are the roaches of men
They treat me like the left overs..
burnt and small..
Roaches...
crawling from the cracks
of ghettos
waiting for extermination..
But we just multiply rapidly
hard shells of soft skin..
that bullets constantly find...
they call it enforcement..
We call it fear...
negrophobia...
they are afraid of our skin..
The power behind our beings..
They look at us as sin
We are the Roaches of men
unwanted house guest
feeling their
Entomophobia...
Creating more and more traps
for us to fall in..
Stomping our pride
with their steel boots...
Once upon a time
they could never **** our minds...
But they've found new forms of poisons
That have burnt us down
to smoking ourselves...
constantly...
as if is normal to see a young black mans
skin leaking smoke from the holes in his chest..
the smells of burning flesh..
that once swung from branches
in the southern sun.
Strange fruits to...Weeds... to roaches..
I bet they'll test
the theory of survival..
when they nuke us..
You 'know roaches don't say much...
they just create a lot of scatter..
but they create louder sounds together
and we can't even stand united
so our voices will never be heard..
just left in ash trays awaiting disposal..
as the stench or our smoking silence lingers in the air..
When will our dying embers once again catch flame
and burn away this despair..
we are stronger than memories
denser than air..
we are Power
Surviving long after the many times
we were suppose to be extinct....
Choices of Strength..
that we need to find again
We are the Roaches of Men...
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC