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planths Dec 2016
Oh how glorious war is!
How efficient
And adequate!
The way it entertains the gods
When we shoot fireworks and missiles into the sky
It accustoms young women to waiting
Awards men for slaughtering men
Inspires tyrants to deliver long speeches
Adds pages to history books
Gives politicians something to bet on
Brought tears to Einstein’s eyes
Leaves men scarred for life
Gives poets new themes
Like Bukowski and Cummings
It produces less mouths to feed
Teaches historians that history is always repeating itself
Gives governments something to brag about
Pulverises countries until nothing is left
Accomplishes equality between killer and killed
Keeps the industry of artificial limbs in business
Gives grave diggers a pat on the back
See how glorious war can be?
-2016
This poem was written for an assignment I was given to do about war, during this task I chose to take a sarcastic turn about the topic instead of being traditional and using this task to take my anger out on war..I hope you enjoy my work.
Sia Jane Mar 2014
drunk on the pavement,
Jeffrey Campbell Lita's,
trashed on ***** bottles,
smashed & abandoned,
an easy blunt,
floating through,
social groups,
turbulence triggers flashbacks,
laughter accustoms a,
pendulum of excessive desires,
swinging to & fro,
battles of wars wage within,
cigarette blunts pierce open *******,
stings & burns,
red yellow ashes spark,
black lingerie,
a new lover,
she's cast away with,
ghosts of past,
scarred.

© Sia Jane
It amazes me that I can find a poem in just one image I find on tumblr!!
Dawnstar Mar 2019
I know a land of salt
and pepper stalks and moss,
whose jagged, hazy coast
a thousand flowers bears —
of Ireland I boast.

Even now my heart is sick
for a home I never had.
If I were there,
what I would do,
I'll tell to you....

I'd show my love the mountain's nooks,
I'd pounce the foeman's daring rooks,
and plunder every dusty book,
and sleep in emerald vales.
We'd clamber up to a secret cave
and there we'd dwell,
away from the pell-mell,
and fast away in purple robes,
pretending we were noble-born
(for Ireland, we ought to be),
we'd in defiance hunger stave.

See now, her cloud legions marching in step
like flares emerging from the wood.
While horses roam her sunlit plains
and flowers shudder in her breeze;
while puddles form in shallow pools,
my watered mind accustoms trees
of bleak and twisted nature,
on the wild icicle river,
coldly biting my knees.

But here afar away,
there's treasure under every
glistening leaf,
'twixt frond and fern,
bristle and bramble,
and bounding stream.
By daylight,
Eire counts every rock;
at starlight,
assesses her stock.

I know a land
whose greenery bursts
in the morning dew,
and gives hopeful cause
to a hundred generations
of stoic sword-brethren
flashing down the coast,
singing their jolly tune,
as the oak decks are mounted
with freedom's guns
emboldening battle new.

Her amber-gilded name spears through
clouded sea and Cambrian cliff:
if every isle were touched as this!
by saintly light from Atlas' air.
She is the jewel of the isles,
the song of countless souls.
As men march down her
summer roads to meet their
tender-hearted lovers at home in
comfort from callous kings, the
breeze will bring news of another
christening or crossing... for then
each girl will spy him coming, and
make haste to alert the town,
and they will all turn out with joy
to welcome home their darling boy;
to herald the ending of famine and war,
and so they will shout for centuries more!
Hayley Siebert Dec 2016
Hark! These creatures of catacombs
Furrows and the weeping ribbons
Forsooth great beasts took a turn here
When the mind accustoms itself to violence
It bestows it….broken as the temple falling
The sword by Israel's cry!
Ghosts of the borderline!
Ghosts of the borderline!
Traumatic as hymens torn
By hands unclean by demons born
The ***** twas not consenting forlorn
Too many nights passing to the dawn


Allow when Yosef comes, his predator expression
For my milk drop flesh, he claims doth conquer
The chains of slavery he forged by Irish blood
Born from the veil of wedlock
Out of sullen sin, between husband and mistress
He took to which he hath none
Purple hues adorn the shoulder
Bare before the creases of blood
These years could not tamper the memories


So in night shade, among the ghouls
There is a hovering silver sheen
Groped by the tiny digits
I shall be its sheaf
Psychosis the cascade of reality
The distortion of time and space
An all hallows eve, the sabbath of subconscious monsters
The manic and depressive are the swinging of the pendulum
And the ****** of thy hand is the dawn of God
I fall, the intoxicating pearls down my throat
Reek in my blood, Jewish blood, Welsh blood, tainted blood
The dizzy fortitude to collapse
Will alter the reality and silence the darkness
Of faces disfigured, in death they have no stance
Thus my torment hath come to end
I give way, the sweep of the fall
Fall onto my sword…
Away from the worlds of disturb content
Away from the sacred flesh scarred and mangled
Away from the deep cavern of endless thought
To God and to my ancestors, who saw with no eyes fit to see
But see nethertheless my frail state of a tipping scale
I fall onto my sword, distressed as Saul
Vlarken Hvyrmtor Jul 2015
I am a babe
suckling milk
from the breast

It is bland
It is benign

With each new experience
it becomes less so
it grows a taste

It is bitter
It is sweet

I grow my teeth and
begin to eat the
meat of it

It is so rich that I ***** it back up

There is none left

I eat the *****
until my body
accustoms itself

I grow strong on it

It twists in my gut:
a white Worm with its
tail in its jaws

My teeth and fingernails
are yellow with it
My eyes and lips
are crusty with it too

I grow my mind and
begin to see the
heart of it

It is vibrant
It is alive

I fear to eat it

I sit at the table
set it with ****** cloth and
cannibalize myself

I realize I am eternal
go to bed weeping and
share me with myself:

My **** is potency
My **** is caprice
I love myself

We lie close and examine
the heart of it

It is grey
It is dead

I eat it without fear
Arcassin B Jun 2016
By Arcassin Burnham

The whole appearance of it all,
Brushing off dead butterflies and walking
Through crosswalks like the band members from
The Beatles and reminiscing about the times you
Both have shared and became equals,
And still,
The possible note is to only bespoke of the dreams
and the hopes that follow to put out the fires you
Caused,
to fly and live again,  you can't protect the sin,
Waiting for the right times to pin something
Special,
Love we could get away in paradise but more like luxury
In all these accustoms to a brand new life in the
Spirit plane,
Be my Mary Jane,
Can you clear with me,
Make dreams with me,
Stay the angel that I know and love to comfort me in
Every situation please.
http://abpoefall.blogspot.com/2016/06/f-l-l-e-n-lp-deluxe-edition.html

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