#stampede
There was a hegemony on the stage,
There were listeners downstairs,
And the latter were Et Cetera.
The stampede killed the Et Cetera,
Not touching those on the stage,
Sparing the spinners of yarn.
Mar 3, 2025
Mar 3, 2025 at 8:17 PM UTC
An animal avalanche
Arrives at the dance
In a defensive stance
To prevent the chance
Their resentful trance
Won’t pass first glance
The animals rush
Kicking up dust
Responding to lust
Or a threatening gust
Mass hysteria must
Make them adjust
Misery wombat
Blistering combat
Administering on that
Ministry contact
And industry contracts
In their dusty con track
They use a flawed
Blanche DuBois
Survival law
Scratch and claw
Acting raw
Imposing paws
The stampede
Slammed me
Blandly
By ramming
My standing
Expanding
My understanding
Of the farmers branding
I paddle fake
Rattlesnakes
That tattle stakes
The battle takes
To bother me
With bomber dreams
Of somber screams
I’m always annoyed
For in this void
I must avoid
Love devoid
Terror droids
On steroids
I’m backing out
By lashing out
By blacking out
Tapping out
To the drought
On my route
My mastery
Of catastrophe
Blasted me
Classically
Back to be
Where I bleed
I need a solution
That’s a substitution
To their pollution
Like a revolution
Of evolution
Sending fusion
Mysticism
And cynicism
Blocking vision
Without permission
Are just superstition
Looping pistons
So I won’t listen
Caught in the feud rain
That is the food chain
Bringing my brood pain
From the lewd game
That glues shame
To my doomed brain
The stampede
Trampled me
Sampling
The example of greed
For their ample needs
That scrambles seeds
Planting problem trees
To obstruct the breeze
To calmer breeds
Oct 22, 2018
Oct 22, 2018 at 1:46 AM UTC
These butterflies are
Turning into antelope
Stampeding inside
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 4:22 AM UTC
As the cries of the captives
are left unanswered
So will the prayers
of the pious
be forever met
with silence
As the pleadings
of the warrior
abandoned forlorn
are met with indifference
So will the oblations
of pretensions
be met only with scorn
As the words of the prophet
that the famine soon
would be lifted
were met with
callous unbelief
So will those gatekeepers
be trampled
in the stampede
of the multitudes
who seek God's relief
For those who have ears
So let them care
For those who have none
Let their eyes in death
coldly and everlasting stare
For the words
of God's wisdom
are life to the dieing
They are surely for
the self-righteous
precious pearls
before swine
-R.
(06)
-TX
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 2:38 PM UTC
Miss Frulling, Miss Frulling
What are you doing?
Not a pancakes been flipped, coffe just finished brewing,
And you've taken two to the ally for ********
Have you been checked? Answer's "no" i'm assuming
Miss Frulling, Miss Frulling
I often wonder
Did you fool us, or was it a blunder?
A quick shot at fame, or hate for your mother
You might be a **** but can i have your number?
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 1:23 AM UTC