#scythe
You've not learnt how,
Just how to apologise,
Instead you're rude,
Words like a scythe,
And you expect immediate forgiveness.
Well, that’s not how it works,
That’s really not how it works.
Dec 7, 2024
Dec 7, 2024 at 1:44 PM UTC
Death is playing with its scythe.
It's rejuvenating the skill of ****
This month, it's looking for its ninth,
Who seems to be taking the happy pill.
Oh! poor chap, you're so unfortunate
To be so young and so lively.
Yet you're lucky you're not desperate
To meet me in person so immediately.
I don't fear you, Death.
What's there to fear in you?
You might be at the zenith,
But the happy pill can never be seized by you.
Sure the happy pill is nothing for the Death,
Who can spice up terror and wraith.
But, the happy pills in this world are
much stronger than the Death's dread.
Beyond the stillness of blackened death, times are changing and,
Nothing will be same ever again.
Feb 14, 2020
Feb 14, 2020 at 12:18 PM UTC
Despite countless factorial permutations
and combinations, this cyber surfer
avails two alms
(one from alma mater, thee other
handily gifted from alma papa)
seeking succor asper sum er set Maugham
mull eight mom mee **** sic cure ring
(via chemotherapy and radiation) human *******
boot metastatic carcinoma snatched away
futuristic pharmacological balms
so glad experienced being tethered
in utero umbilical connection
and this brother smothered and overly mothered,
etched bromide, which hankering calms
embryonic sensation this corporeal being lacks
constantly subjected to exams
from hard school of hard knocks
which i bewail sets back and gloms
mine aim to revel in blissful contentment
but circumstances decrees otherwise
cursing this chap tubby haunted
by veritable elfin grotto dwelling phantoms
hovering over sweet clover dials a mirage
yes...iris sieve blurbs from gals and two guys
that span the World Wide Web, and exude
premature ejaculatory ecstasy, puzzled if fie
totally tubularly trod a tedious trek
along the boulevard of broken dreams
what happenstance oft finds thyself to flail
amidst difficulty to maximize
optimal opportunities searching for Holy Grail
or whatever constitutes such lofty
personal objective, perchance being hale
and hearty of body, mind and spirit
spurs the furies of fate tut test this primate
while he aims to gallop with mighty industrial
vim and vigor leaving a virtual soundcloud
of dust, though mindfulness helps
to pass go, and chance avoid jail
time, then maybe monopolized feedback offered
to this toothless mwm quasi-vegetarian
enjoying poetry stone soup, yet also subsisting
on supplementary vitamin packed glue tin free
NON GMO gluten free
fruity tall tales for a male
forty-two years shy
sans Bing a centenarian,
which span of life best cut short with a nail
(possibly nine inches) hammered into
faux coffin, cuz this imp doth turn pale
at the prospect to fill up a space of land
best utilized by birds - such as quail
Mongoose, or ibis (though aye n'er saw
one), where cremated ashes sail
across some verdant plain under
cerulean skies putting to rest every travail
which thoughts of dem eyes spells
relief since homelessness -
therein lied the rub
but dove vine intervention
cooed not comb sooner
main impetus explaining this rambling spiel
(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
the warp and woof ova gauzy veil
imperceptibly looms closer upon
turrets of my digital sea faring gun whale
and thus desperation finds pleading salvation.
(since completion a moot point
since amazing grace smiled)
before mine danse macabre
doppelganger draws dagger
punctured skein tight
as a yank key notched belt
housed within mine impenetrable
hermetically sealed invisible bubble
drapes with blackened
Hades hued habiliment therein dwelt
sinister saboteur mastermind
marauder of Hubble
piercing fiery ocular rift
presence unseen but felt
demands sacrifice once
into bowels of Hades
force at Devilled Pitchfork
to traverse river Styx
with unadulterated gelt,
which known phantasmagorical double
diabolical self amidst aftermath
from Armageddon rubble
astride charred global ruins
entire civilization melt
planetary paroxysm
prognosticated by Maya sages
with 11th hour stubble
birthed Darth Vader nemesis
evil upon earth he did pelt
annihilating mankind,
the derelict species that fueled trouble
hence evil twin appointed
apocalyptic malevolence spelt
desiccation, humiliation, and laceration
upon once verdant veldt
with mass crematorium desecration
left horrific blistering welt.
Tan Sichuan Countdown
to **** sapiens extinction
predicted millenniums in past
to occur December 21
two thousand and twelve
(that date elapsed without incident
but beware unexpected
cataclysmic circumstance)
after con comma tinted common era,
whereby catastrophic spark
detonating inferno incinerating blast
eradicating extant flora
and fauna bereft sans hegira
with no means to interrupt the die
since the dawn of civilization cast.
Impossible to escape
ominously predetermined quaking
fate of human rat race
nor turn back hands of time
with origin of species on clock face
thus ticking closer to hour of doomsday
without faith to brace
allowing, enabling and
provide Gaia to redeem terrestrial space
vestiges of teeming billions soon graced erased
criminal minds without a trace
forcefully relinquishing simians
planetary stranglehold amazing grace
proffering tabula rasa
for another dominant species
to claim the place.
Sirens promulgate emergency
toward impending inescapable cataclysm,
yet no place to run or hide
lest one boards rocket light-years away,
which makes suspense thrillers
birthed by John Grisham
enviable plot to keep
total Earths’ destruction at bay.
mice elf, a lifetime americaonline
Meme bur hastens to convey dire
crisis sparking
to offer electric nom de plume
Harris40tude a papa who did sire
deux darling daughters,
yet for ages hive stung
with hurt early, whence fatherhood did fire
meow n childhoods' end fostering people
strangers fork get dish
comb bob yule hated communication,
per S0S sprinkled with awe shucks corny,
Egret - letting opportunities
take flight aspire,
now pleasures soft
as gossamer feather bedding
down play hardened
angst riddled psyche, where ire
Ronny gully stubbornly thrives
amidst adversity as father time spins gyre
row scope at greased lightening speed,
intimating with dead reckoning to hire
grim reaper, who **** patient
as Job, and exemplary at ridding mire
and muck bogs down this dada robbing
existence with joie de vivre, where funeral pyre
doth flickr-beckoning GoDaddy, cuz
Juno I haint gonna hear angelic choir
or equivalent enlightenment re:
home sweet home, this atheist doggedly tire
so haim trying keep sea legs
one step ahead of tipping point
envision self pitched into abyss, thus end of wire.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
now, asper that unwelcome deathly still intruder
tis thee demise of life i.e. known
(among other names) as grim reaper
accompanied by ghost of
John (toot till loo to you) Bankhead Magruder.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 8:21 PM UTC
Kick the Calendar
Take a ride to the other World
To stretch the Leathers
To leave your Feathers
A lady with a scythe has Visited
Leave the World
To listen to the crickets Sing
To have a garden Growing
Finish one's Day
Lower the curtain of Life
To be three meters Under
To take a Blunder
Candle gets Extinguished
Say goodbye to one's Life
To kick empty Space
To accept the Emprace
of Death
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 10:18 AM UTC
Darkness it creeps and hides,
every crack and crevasse,
born to the naked eye,
in the world of sand we're Catcher while they're Rye.
Open up your mind,
that third dimensional eye,
for it unlocked the truth,
it leaves few behind,
you gotta catch up if you plan to survive.
In this world so feeble and faint,
harsh and cold,
darkness creeps upon the paranoid and old,
it reaches out and grabs your hand,
for we are all just grains left in the sand.
Its anger is a scythe,
cuts deep into your soul like any double edged knife,
I am the reaper,
I am new life.
Darkness its stench,
dead and foul,
Hades slithering on the prowl,
there is a time here and now.
Life is found rejoicing in the light,
for I kiss the hand of death and say goodnight,
for you I bid goodbye,
for I am god,
I am Rye.
I drink my quaff and stumble away,
for I am the reaper,
dead and grey,
free your soul,
I hope and pray
that darkness will never creep your way.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
The iron drips from my fingers.
The man gives out a yell.
The child launches, she launches at me.
Sadly her launch had failed.
I chuckled at her, with no pity.
Her frightened face, what a laugh.
The person she’s crying for isn't worth dying for.
After all,
he was a bad man.
It’s funny, so funny, funny the fact.
The fact, she thought if she grabbed my neck then,
maybe, just maybe, maybe I’d die.
I laughed again and finally, I gave out a sigh.
“Poor child,” I said my voice left unchanged.
“You misunderstood. I shouldn't be ashamed.
Your idol has done so many bad things,
now he’ll pay for his sins of adultery,
in a place which this blind man cannot see.
She fell to the ground befalling her tears.
This was the end of her happy years.
What? Did she think it was a fairy tale life?
Reality is sharp, just like a knife.
I laughed at the fact I took his life,
with just one swing of my most dull scythe.
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 1:26 PM UTC
As my soul danced in farewell
With my life ebbing away
Unto the gaping gates of Hell
With utter shock and dismay
In my last bitter flight
I saw His dreadful scythe
It was the only thing I liked
About the infamous Grim Reaper
And all of Hell's keepers
The only thing with shine
Glinting with dire beauty
That scythe in fading light
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 7:12 AM UTC