#wordwar
Charcoal traces intricate pits of ominous tenebrosity
Cobblestone paths guide and revive the indigenous nation’s daemons
Splintered in vain, vexed and restrained
My deity must absolve these memories
Merciless silhouettes float amongst the rest
And disguise divine penitentiaries
Fictitious trepidation, nameless contagions, hinders this utopian civilization, callus your feet then fall onto your knees facing the skeletons of your aesthetic beliefs
Charcoal traces intricate pits of ominous tenebrosity
Cobblestone paths guide and revive the indigenous nation’s daemons
Sep 18, 2021
Sep 18, 2021 at 10:49 PM UTC
You are a Gypsy Queen
Fashioning the hearts of your victims directly on your sleeves
Pick up your trinkets, jewels, and memories
Travel the underworlds looping through centuries
You are my Gypsy Queen
Dance, lady dance, look at me
A body made of untouched clay slithering within my quiddity
Posthumously, oblivion seeks to dance with me
A ballet of mortal divinity
Pierce through my vengeance last I must grieve
Your borrowed light loaned to enlighten me
Smile through your stone-chiseled teeth
An unfortunate commoners sovereignty
Thou art mine own to thieve
You are my Gypsy Queen
Sep 18, 2021
Sep 18, 2021 at 2:52 PM UTC
Bury the throne within glassed shells and frivolous stones, vex my Lord, and inspire dust into our moons then divide thy luminous corpse into two insightful rooms
Riddle your sword of inquisitive intentions sharpen its dull heart to shame contention
Guide it’s autonomy towards the blasphemous prodigy
Battle against despair and harmony
Bury the throne within glassed shells and frivolous stones, vex my Lord, and inspire dust into our moons then divide thy luminous corpse into two insightful rooms
Come my Lord, thou shall rule amongst the rest. Bow and bless’ed be the headless cadavers before your death
Seek your sanguine coated philosophy within the depths of your own ominous masterpiece
Bury the throne within glassed shells and frivolous stones, vex my Lord, and inspire dust into our moons then divide thy luminous corpse into two insightful rooms
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
Symphonic warmth gallops between each fictitious, silent beat, Tennessee whiskey and a maroon tinted seat. Kneel before the antiquated king
Reach for the master key hidden within endless plains that consume me
Démodé Insecurities, remission of sin, garnish my enmity for my intent is unburdened
Deliver thy name, guilt, and vindication
Deprive the gods of their inauspicious justifications
Grant me your arm covered in sanguinary slits, for I will be your savior who will sculpt the soma against the holy writ
Symphonic warmth gallops between each fictitious, silent beat, Tennessee whiskey and a maroon tinted seat. Kneel before the antiquated king
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 12:18 PM UTC
Pine trees, speckled rays, and a stream of azure blue wonders
Sprout the bend of sapling desires
Venture through the depths of dry earth
You are like a castle in the sky
Descend trepidation, for your heart sits cherished within my own dauntless persuasions
Starless locks drop delicately from above
You are like a castle in the sky
O’ remarks the zephyr fiend that grazes each detail lovingly
Desiccated layers shed luminous textures that reveal armour-propre
You are like a castle in the sky
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 12:14 PM UTC
Chisel the surface with plain grains, valleys, and burnt sienna eyes
Kindle the waking day as it rests on the
hammocks of your canopy
Aureate Renaissance bequest divine goodbyes, farewell fortunate tales and my whimsical cries
Christen the Seven Seas with the speckled embers that are bemoaned unto thee
Vitiating virtuous vitality within your incomplete home
Forty winks of spring tread beneath your firm, cold brow— blossoming bluebonnets reveal mosaic plateaus
Divulge the yen under lock and key
Imbue your sentiments with charcoaled pique
Alas, anchor the revelations— caress the crystal vector that enlightens individual aspirations
Dethrone the wrinkled creator, for thou created the wicked chamber, blossoming bluebonnets betoken the savior
Hidalgo, thee shall attaineth the season’s gl’ries, and thou art the judge of your own amorous, beatific stories
Go away of all flesh and poisoned rip-roaring, secure another meridian and whittle euphoria
Chisel the surface with plain grains, valleys, and burnt sienna eyes
Kindle the waking day as it rests on the hammocks of your canopy
Aureate Renaissance bequest divine goodbyes, farewell fortunate tales and my whimsical cries
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 12:09 PM UTC
Sacrificial semantics, cardiac romantics, bred into generational poetic descriptives
I am the result of ancestral language, yielding powerful Tenochca dynamics
Who scraped away the dust of the moon and bled tangerine into the sunrise
Blanketed by riveting time, my leaders soured through chaos and sculpted pantomime
An humble cry revealed craters in the sky and hailed reflections amongst the horizon
Who wielded away the iron of the sun and hemorrhaged into the darkness
A pulsating, heartless rhythm that distinguished an iron hand to honorable freedoms
Sacrificial semantics, cardiac romantics, bred into generational poetic descriptives
I am the result of ancestral language, yielding powerful Tenochca dynamics
Dec 2, 2018
Dec 2, 2018 at 5:13 PM UTC
Within the arteries of dense retentivity
There lives a captain that attracts
Waves of mass intensity
Oh the stars’ gaze
When we put down the map
And drift into this maze
The magnetic dynamic perpetuates
A life so unjust for the rarity of passion that instigates
A constant motion that renegades
Against the law of inertia
This is the grand escapé
Oh the stars’ gaze
When we put down the map
And drift into this maze
Mar 15, 2018
Mar 15, 2018 at 1:32 PM UTC
The moment we met you were infatuated. You were delusional with affection. The way I learned how to conjure words from the inner pits of lust and fondness created the illusion of something far more complex than love. The epitome of regret.
Your intellect was mesmerizing, which, I will admit kept me intrigued. How delicate your words were when the air left your lungs and your soul flooded the meaning before it captivated my attention.
With much repent I must admit that I loved you. The instant I became speechless it was not a romantic gesture. My lack of words mimicked the end of my adventure. I feared the demise. My apologies for not being the compassion that you were seeking for. You asked me why I could not love you. It was not that I couldn’t. There were simply no words that I have learned that could remotely express the endearment that my heart held for you.
The moment we met you were infatuated. You were delusional with affection. The way I learned how to conjure words from the inner pits of lust and fondness created the illusion of something far more complex than love. The epitome of regret.
Just admit it. I am only temporary.
Dec 16, 2017
Dec 16, 2017 at 1:53 PM UTC
My vessel has been anchored, attacked, and conquered
Leaving the pieces shattered and somber
Stranded within a dynamic society
My lifeless bones still dance with gaiety
Misguided, unrequited, i have lost my light
And here i lie undecided
if sinking is a reward of being silent
Lost in a sea composed of
stringless, seamless puppets
I'm reluctant, broken, cracked and sewed in
Posed and told how to blend within
The flawless flaws of retrospective laws
Oppress what others call a
“Suitable demographic”
My vessel has been anchored, attacked, and conquered
Leaving the pieces shattered and somber
Stranded within a dynamic society
My lifeless bones still dance with gaiety
Attach the wires and deem yourself my master
Superiority begets a systematic wrath of
Powerless demons with a potent strategy
Demand my steps to guide you into the perfect victory
Media-- social media socializing the roles like ghouls of anesthesia
Taking the control, then providing a hole of grief, anger, less goals and lost souls.
My vessel has been anchored, attacked, and conquered
Leaving the pieces shattered and somber
Stranded within a dynamic society
My lifeless bones still dance with gaiety
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 11:16 PM UTC
An inquisitive mind—flourished from oppression into a cave as rich as Reed mine
Where tourists can flood my thoughts
Pick at my gold and sell it for their lives
Stabilizing their own
While weakening my historic rise
Greed increases, and relationships are seceded
Because everyone wants to obtain sacred pieces
Wandering through pixels of distorted visions
Gatherers become hunters
Painting with blood, their own ambitions
Setting standards for the continuing generations
In turn, a figurative genocide
For the sake of remaining proclamations
Paralyzing, terrorizing, and destroying indifferent others
If time manipulates unfortunate events, perhaps the solution
Is just the opposite
Creatures of habit soon face an evolution
Once protagonists reach a state of lucid retribution
It defines them as antagonists playing a role of uncanny acts
The renowned vigilantes use time as their sword
To reenact their own demise and call unto their lord
Scattered within the affluent cave
The people and their children
And their children's children
Are enslaved, digging their own graves while being influenced by vacuous hopes and darkened shapes
The repetitive motions devolved into psychopathic notions
They attempted to escape but were punished for breaking the rotation
Whipped, humiliated, and shamed
The cave insulated the pain
By offering priceless artifacts
Within my knowledgeable den
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:39 PM UTC
Over the horizon rests the deceased and the black skies
Smokey clouds lift the useless souls above ground
Monstrous figures dance around a fire
Chanting to their higher power
And there, in the still of night, she lurks in the alley
Young Madeline watches
Her family becoming particles of the black dust
Her bare feet swiftly crossing the darkness without a sound
Leaving behind the shadows
The reapers that have ***** her village dry
But her tears weren’t enough to silence the cries
That are hollow to the mind
Of the people that face demise
Oh sweet Madeline
You must see the lines that tore your innocence
While he was stuck between your thighs
The sweet, blissful torture kept you safe
When the all-knowing began to transpire
You were the survivor of his keeping
Oh Madeline
The horizon is not shiny, there is no silver lining
The air you breathe will forever taste bitter
And empty
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
You see and then connect
From rebound to rebound, it’s all in your head
these broken souls, and misfortunate events
are completely suppressed, once you take them to bed
trapped in a body of sinful debt
the beast accepts weak minds, cash and credit
The walk of shame has evolved into respect
Pictures of every person that has touched your lips
crowds your newsfeed
just like your esteem
Because a connection now is nothing more than
false affection, redirection, and copious rejection
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
I took a commemorative drive
Back to a town that glorified the wise
It was 500 miles and three packs of cigarettes
The crisp, burning sound embedded in my head
Endlessly deep trenches
That birthed my inflictions
Created character, said my intentions
To rise above, and destroy pretenses
I went passed those rusty, horrid gates
That allegedly guarded us and kept us safe
Then, I entered the palace, the core of my pain
Where the man stood, stoically and still bound in his chains
He was a deathly entity without any shame
But his smile was deceiving, as if he had changed
“This time” he said, “We won’t die” he tried to explain
But his eyes lied, and his tone was vain
The crisp, burning sound echoed as I left
The man, helpless and distressed
Became nothing more than a substance that
I won’t digest
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 6:40 PM UTC
Hello Darkness,
We meet again, the last time we spoke, I believe I was young, about the age of ten. I promised you a secret, and I thought it was deeply hidden, but you slid incognito without my permission. Wherefore art thou a stranger of mine keeping--at which hour thou art near mine own heart, at each moment, reaping. Every window has lost their blinds, and replaced with the kitchen table. The wood hangs distressed, and sorrowfully-- they pray in their heads waiting under the rubble.
Darkness, I must admit, the blood seeping through the cracks and the screams became a symphony. An ensemble that will be played before our collective agony. I confront you today, because I am deeply ashamed of my cowardly ways and unconscious thinking. When lives are at stake, you force my love to lose all feeling.
Every strike against my village appears to only strengthen our bond. That is why this must be our last encounter, because you see, you have killed them all. Farewell mine own h'rrid darkness, mine own monstrous conceit. Thou has't birth'd a savage within me.
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 12:44 AM UTC
Am I invisible
When my arms wave for aid
Am I bothering the people
Shunned and ashamed
My lungs fill with mistakes
Four gallons of heart ache
I fall to my end
Inside me
Another person is clawing my skin, burning my head and kicking my shins
Cursing me to become a better
Me
Yet I am still drowning in my own sorrow
I extend, through forceful waves,
A weak hand waving a white flag
Before I descend into the ocean's grave
May 19, 2016
May 19, 2016 at 11:20 PM UTC
We start with the
Crackling record of “Gloomy Sunday”
Playing in the background
The melody goes on slowly
Bare feet moving carefully
to the romantic sound
300 sextillion stars surround us
Intangible moments, we feel
And the intimacy becomes surreal
The taps of raindrops mimicked our excited spirits
We were two melted hearts dancing
in the blazing candlelight
With only a gust of wind
from what seemed like
300 sextillion supernovas
I danced alone
forgetting the place we used to call home
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 11:34 AM UTC
“We’re all just some punks, miserable creatures
With our human goal to be: enhancing all of our features
Further into the caves, intentions become deeper
Like killing your local preacher and to blame it on the teacher
Because all kids are precious
I sat alone, just to see
How long it would take to burn down all of our trees
Now we can’t even breathe
Near each other, nobody can see one another
It’s always about color
And *** and race, and what-ever somebody ate
There is no purpose, after the greatest
We all became so very aimless
Is it worth it, that
Maybe the only thing I can ever be
Is Instagram famous.”
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 9:20 PM UTC
Time creates a turning circle
Where my words play
Tangled and hurtful
Dec 25, 2015
Dec 25, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
In her eyes the world started off small and to her surprise
it was a sin to grow old
Age wasn't the purpose of her discovery, rather than the wisdom that came with no recovery
What once used to be a mind of many shades, began transcending to grey after she murdered her rose
colored glasses
Ashes to ashes, she is unable to express or remotely stress how horrifying the rest of the world is
Dust to dust, these forms of beings are resorting to feeding on trends that’s ultimately eating into a
dead end
We justify every reason no matter if it’s **** slander, or treason- each person is free and
Now we wait for the inevitable
Equality for all- murderers just came from a broken home, a man that beats his wife was just feeling alone
Do you feel sympathetic? For lack of better words, the writer calls that pathetic
Innocence and ignorance is bliss, what you don’t know, you won’t miss
Here lies a society of fearful, sensitive ******
Who watch out for themselves, and call the rest hypocrites
What about that could you miss?
This was the last that the writer wrote, but before she ended her note
A red fingerprint placed gently in between quotes
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
I am not a winner because I haven't fallen into the trap of sensitivity
I have lost because my peers dramatize every little thing
I am not a winner because I don't support implausible charities
I remain a loser for ignoring activities
The world sees me as a demonic result of the old generation
My morals are corrupt along with my "hypocritical" religion
My story has no lies, yet I receive smug looks and dry eyes since I'm not a third world survivor
They believe I'm the reason why
This world is so racist
Why girls continue to say I'm a sexist
I am not a winner
Because my struggles are incredibly
Un-credible
I have lost
And I will never be seen
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
Gently blend the makeup in
Cover those tired bruises
Then forgive and forget
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
We the people
Created the definition of insanity
Continuously birthing another thesis to "protect" all of humanity
Meaningless validation to destroy and mutilate such a beautiful creation in order to achieve an unreachable reflection
I hate to do this again and again
But this world has became a fantasy of pretend
We the people
Slaughtered the human race
We walk from point A to B
Motivated by revenge, trying to fill in an empty space
We the people
Are not people
We are skin that's been injected by something lethal
A combination of confusion and being "equal"
Why can't we just remain simple
Dec 1, 2015
Dec 1, 2015 at 11:08 PM UTC
She used to trace her eyes with a path of black
I assumed it was to grab attention
She would perfectly fill in her acne scars’ gaps
Maybe it was to be the best addition
Barbie dolls, and Maybelline models
would make her feel inferior
but between the shadows, glosses and makeup bottles
She’s forgotten her natural exterior
The beauty flows, and young age glows
No filter is needed
Hashtag “woe” nobody knows
but she feels less conceited
Caked on lies attracted some guys
and made her act a certain way
she has those perfect laugh lines around her eyes
that will make anybody’s day naturally okay
perfect imperfections, aren’t meant to be hidden
makeup’s deceptions, needs to be permanently forbidden
She was born with a face that describes her
Flawless, nothing can replace what is her
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 11:45 PM UTC
She traveled for days, in a maze with no direction destined for an escape from depression driven by disaffection
By fate she felt a connection
They ran until he was cuffed into oppression
Later she had a baby on the way
Going through her mind she's beginning to think that she made a mistake
Her heart aches, my poor lady
Don't be ashamed my poor lady
There were many attempts repeated
Her child is now three and
In a need of an education to intrigue him
It is in her mind to try again
No mas tristeza Mi Amor
Said mother when we walked out the door
My soul grew old and I walked with strength
So by the time I was ten I knew how to think
This was me, I made my personality
The world was a wonder, and I wandered with many
Some men and women, names weren't our thing
The blood on the feet were all the same
At the end, countless tragedy
Don't worry my poor lady
Once we're there it might be better, just maybe
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 11:46 PM UTC