#shameful
I am finished. Now.
All my cards showing.
The embarassing play
Burned permanent
If I could...
Left unfinished by truth.
And my reasons?
Symbiotic starve without.
I just... want
Any fractional amount more
So I played it
Splended in mind alone
To win this shame
Aspects I never thought
Ruined in concept and
Delivery at cost of all
Hindsight amplifying
A conclusion now a fact
Why did i think
It played out different
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 3:20 PM UTC
pay more respect to the women working at morgues.
they tend to the dead
it takes sympathy
it takes care
it takes courage
it takes control
not the control of fear of stray souls
not the control of fear of phantoms
but the control of wanton
and that is why men aren't hired by morgues.
Oct 30, 2024
Oct 30, 2024 at 4:28 AM UTC
My relationship with life is nonconsensual
Now-a-days, a cancelable scandal
The back and forth we share is not equal
My portion is shameful
Should have never taken it past casual
That's when it took control
Thoughts creep in of the unforgivable
Turning out the lights on this carnival
The last note I jot on my last thought pressed to vinal
Drop the needle at the funeral
©2024
Oct 15, 2024
Oct 15, 2024 at 8:27 PM UTC
I have never met a more complacent lot,
Than those of my compatriots;
Never have citizens been more obedient,
Than those of my immediates.
Forget spilled tea, today it's
Watered down coffee.
Biscuits cut with sawdust
Out from smaller & smaller molds,
Eating whatever fed us.
Cause we all know hunger
Believing any narrative pushed so long as it's prevailing;
The populace obsessed with popularity.
It's a headache & a headrush in the states,
Cool if you make the breaks
But that's like hitting the ******* lottery.
You gotta ask, what gives?
What does it take
To get a fair chance to stake a claim
In a country full of people who don't give a ****
What sense does it even make
To try,
When no one in charge does?
For my own lot, & life -
Whether tis here or afar
May 13, 2024
May 13, 2024 at 8:47 AM UTC
You call this living, I call it survival, no more pretending that everyone's equal
If all y'all get this undeserved label of special it's disgraceful
It's wasteful not wonderful 'cause that means no one is special
Just a single shape stencil, a number two if you will, but is it poo or pencil
Either way sign below and hand over the soul and no one will get hurt until maybe tomorrow
I find it probable that you could choke on the blue and overdose on the red pill
Let's go ahead and change the slogan from "We the People" to "We the Sheeple
'Cause look the spectacle, they're herding this flock of bigotry and evil straight to the steeple
It's obvious that what they claim to matter is not brain but rather *****
Hopeful it'll go unnoticed that the boat's always had a hole, the cover up comical
No intention to fix it though, not that it's impossible, it's just that their main goal has never been to be helpful
It's shameful but we're still expected to accept all their bull shiit and be eternally grateful
Grateful?! Hell no, I find it hard to be civil with these simple, bottom of the barrel, garbage pail people
I watch every good for nothing stereotypical imbecile as they revel in just how little they know about anything useful
Shiit, I myself didn't know it was possible to set a bar so low with the refusal to even try and meet somewhere in the middle
But they're always able to fall back on denial, hiding behind the iron sights of a rifle, running orange hate straight up the flag pole
A don't tread on me disciple with their own personal motto on signature apparel, backing a shadow government tribunal
Half occupying a big tent revival, hatting on a manufactured rival just 'cause some *** hat, **** hole said so
Grab your personal blind fold at the door before going in to read the vile pages of the bible
Trying to convince yourself that it's gospel but if that's true you'd have to accept, then adapt to having a black soul
Deep down you already know it's an undeniable abysmal circus clown shiit show
What good is having ample evidence if no one's held accountable, even as we sit at the one millionth example
We're all banging our heads against this wall like a judge swinging his gavel
Now is the time to bail on this nauseating carousel, any hesitation could be futile, not a worth while gamble
All the while each illegitimate man child in power hasn't told a single truth in a long while
They have the gal to stand in front of a pile of the gullible and lie through a smile
And the onlookers soak up this bile as a little dribble of spittle appears as the listeners brain looses signal
But for them thinking isn't critical, calling forth the tribulations of revaluations while skipping the trial
Forgetting that back when you were just a child you were told not to judge, but a god complex is your desired style
Doing the unthinkable has become a profitable ritual, asking for help now treated as rhetorical
Historical failures on a global level, the leaders themselves are the perpetual obstacle
Only allowed to live so they can make money on your funeral, basic human needs shouldn't be treated as charitable
The fix is simple enough to get through even the thick skull of a dude-bro, so you'd think it'd be achievable
But our voice is rarely heard, a subtle mic cut before we're able get out anything that resembles a rebuttal
So we're stuck getting fuucked in this government funded brothel running out of the basement of a hostel designated as the capital
They profess they aren't responsible for the struggle brought on by the fallacies they try and juggle
How is this legal? It's gone on this way for so long that it's no longer seen as a scandal, just business as usual
Every word hypocritical, right and wrong indistinguishable, as our bill of rights and constitution become controversial
There's never been a time in history this hasn't been factual which also means getting out might not be truly achievable
Welcome to the show, pick a row and grab a seat, let's watch the slow burn glow
And here...we...go...
©2022
Sep 19, 2022
Sep 19, 2022 at 2:35 PM UTC
Upon the announcement of my arrival
my ancestors weaved brillant threads to make a quilt for my bed
with steadfast hands, they weaved themselves a plan
who i was to become, what kind of man
upon the days of my arrival
my ancestors fantastically wrapped me up in the quilt of blue and red
this quilt housed me for many seasons
itched me, pinched me, left me cold at night
bit me, tripped me, straggling my rights
the brillant quilt made to protect became my golden cage instead
their plan created my strife
their plan corseted my life
after years spent suffocating in the threads
i decided to break away from the plan
emerging like a little chick out of an egg
i chose to live my life today
still the foundation laid was unscathed
every trigger sent my heart into disarray
independence fortified, return to the egg
the quilt might be itchy, it might be tight
but it is easier than learning how to fly
Jul 12, 2023
Jul 12, 2023 at 1:55 PM UTC
Shame stalks me like shadows
On my heels
Put myself through so much torture
Must like the way it feels
Blame you for depression
I know that isn't true
Because I already struggled
Before I lost you
Words you whispered walk through skull
Play phrases on repeat
Conscious of fact I'll never hear them again
Whimper in defeat
In midst of motionless self-pity
Chaos indetectably brews
Conflicted between sticking up for myself
Or withstanding more mistakes I'll excuse
A stillness appeared a moment
As quickly as arrived it is gone
Built on instability
Cannot trust pavement I tread upon
Rippling across distance
Wind melodic
Moving
Thin
Fabric of time and space silky soft
Not quite as soft as your skin
A trail of kisses leads to
waistband
By my moseying mouth
In turn undress me til body is bare
Slowly work your **** sin south
Bars of piano play symphonies
Resounding from the middle of my mind
Waves rolling in and out with the current
Notes are far more tender and kind
I let myself bask in bittersweet glow
Melting due to warmth of total bliss
Voice has never sounded so smooth
Collision never like this
My being joining in rhythm
Tangling until we are one
We remain connected by flesh
Some time after we are done
Eventually guilt emerges
Torn between directions
Why must head and my heart
Inhabit different sections?
I long to be with you
I'm afraid as soon as you know I care
Feelings will fade when I close my eyes
Open them and again you won't be there
Apr 2, 2021
Apr 2, 2021 at 3:01 AM UTC
my skin & my flesh
all through my veins.
they tell me, let it out
so i do, but i can't
and i hide it
so no one sees
everybody knows
but nobody really knows
so i cover it up.
no swimming
never swimming
always drowning,
drowning in these
thoughts
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
Time
Wasting it is shameful
Harsh
Brian Hill - 2019 # 295
Nov 26, 2019
Nov 26, 2019 at 9:44 AM UTC
Sometimes I wonder
Why my heart chose you
Because I'm getting married
And you're married too
Sometimes I wonder
Will we ever talk
And if you made a move
Would I reciprocate or walk
Sometimes I wonder
Does she know my name
Does anyone know about me
Do you wonder the same
Sometimes I wonder
That maybe he knows
But when I spoke the words I liked you
The joke went right under his nose
Sometimes I wonder
Have I read the signs wrong
Or if you've written about me
Because I know you write songs
Sometimes I wonder
Will these feelings ever end
Because when I get married
I don't want to pretend
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
Adulterous besieging capstone damnation
exploitation foists groping, heaving
insidiously jerking
knowingly lunges
machinations notoriously nymphomaniacal
officiating ****** quests
rapaciously, sadistically
tenaciously, unstoppably
vasocongested wickedness
Xerses yawped zeolously.
***************************
All throughout history of man/woman kind
ascendent civilizations extensively gouged,
impailed, kindled, murderous outrages
quashing sacred urges, women yearned.
***************************
Versatile thematic refrain punctuating nubiles
maximized looting, pillaging, ******
visited upon females via decimating fountainhead
guarding brestworks of vestal virgins,
innocent youths (little boys and girls).
***************************
Twenty first century **** Sapiens male population continue to applaud, covet, extol, gloat, invoke, kickstart, ****** outrages, quest savagely thee unbridled wedded yoke appropriating coquettishly enshrined gals imposing killing mandates okaying queasy sordid ugly wretchedness yanking aborhent behavior denigrating, fulminating, harrassing, jawdropping lewdness, nabbing prized rearends, twerking, violently whiplashing, yelling zingers.
***************************
Now not a day elapses with instances women claim untoward advances, and/or forced coercion to satiate and temporarily slate the ****** thirst informing prononced picadilloes (philandering if married pompous head honcho demands appeasement of coitus, ******** indecent lowball outrageous ribald uncouth ****** animalistic, carnal, feral, gonadal, immoral, kleptomaniacally misogynistic, narcissistic, opportunistic, pathetically reprehensible, torturously undervaluing, validating virility within Yankee Doodle, haply lambasting, proudly touting, vaunted wayfair zest.
***************************
The above meandering stream of consciousness attempted to amplify, a recent spate of accusations figuratively slapped against a male *** mongers, who specifically rule roost, and blithely, demandingly, forcefully, hideously, impishly, killingly, malignantly, opprobriously, powerfully, repeatedly, terminally, vindictively, wantonly, yearningly acrimoniously belittle, demean flagrantly, harshly insinuate keeping mindful, not publicize rabid ****** unwanted villainous withering zeal!
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 7:51 PM UTC
If I was a painting
I would be the chewed up canvas, dashed in disgruntled colours,
torn from the easel in dismay and cast aside in neglect.
I am a failed first draft that nobody wants to read.
Feb 21, 2016
Feb 21, 2016 at 4:06 PM UTC
Either they don't imagine guys like me anymore,
Or they can't trust & hold on to guys like me any longer.
Such is the vanishing breed of the good guy-cum-tiger,
Perhaps they are so used to living in evil that good seems evil ever.
Succumbing to emotional injuries we get softer,
Perhaps we have learnt to subjugate forever.
Dec 30, 2015
Dec 30, 2015 at 3:14 PM UTC
Maybe if I cut myself
Or made myself prettier and thinner
Then you would love me,
Not leave me all alone.
Maybe if I made that jump
Or made myself in your image
Then I would finally be good enough
And not an outcast.
Maybe if I cut myself
Or made myself prettier and thinner
Then you would finally love me
And I wouldn't be the shameful daughter.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 4:54 PM UTC
I didn't do it.
You've proved
nothing.
Says my cat circling
shattered remains
and looking
on the world
in disdain.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:02 AM UTC