"bested" poems
We perpetuate heartbreak culture,
teaching girls the man who holds her loves her despite the bruises,
or it was her fault; she looked older.
We fetishes shoulders,
prize youth from the young in return for pre-chewed gum,
swallowing down the same tired ideals from those who still wield them like flags,
waving their patriotism on poles of bone before a throne of medieval ********
They chant mantras with beer stained breath about how 'our' country 'bested' the rest,
but what about the brutality?
The blood split on foreign soil in return for prehistoric oil?
Our land is deemed pure so long as the violence on our hands never reaches our shores,
but the ocean is red and staining our sands.
How can you have pride in a country who's sole identity is based off having the worlds largest navy?
Congratulations. You bombed your way through countless continents, collecting cultures to gather dust on pedestals and alters
We sin on Sundays, drink till we're ****** then wave at the seven deadly's (they don't apply to us here).
We teach preschoolers nationalism before they can walk,
indoctrinate our children before they can talk.
George killed the dragon.
Hood gave to the poor.
we all jumped on the bandwagon before we realised the princess had no choice and the rich still ruled.
There was no voice in the tale for those whose wail could be ignored.
What about those without lines in the script?
Those kicked to the curb, then kicked from it?
Our pavements have no room for nonconformists,
they're tailored to for same mind, same mindless wanderer,
squandering on the lasted polyesters even though that mouth on the street hasn't eaten in over a week.
'God save the Queen' from the vermin;
the homeless have been tossed out of the trash.
Why help them when you could save your cash by turning a blind?
After all, out of sight, out of mind.
Welcome to England, we hope you like what you find
Because we’re not changing it.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 5:02 PM UTC
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad sir Lancelot du Lac.
When first he came to Camelot
The orphan knight, Sir Lancelot
Did prove his worth to Arthur's Court
In jousting, and such noble sport
And with his charm and courtly grace,
His confidence and handsome face,
He won the heart of Guinevere,
And so he found his heart's one fear.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
In tournaments and deeds of arms,
He never fell to earthly harms.
His Lady's scarf about his breast,
He held aloft his knightly chest
And for her honor always strove,
And worshiped her with courtly love.
But she is wed, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Beneath a tree, the young knight slept
And one day, four queens on him crept,
The chief of them, Morgan Le Fay.
With magic, they stole him away.
A choice they begged of him to make,
That one of them his heart should take.
But love is strong. They had no luck
In tempting Lancelot du Lac.
When Melegans stole Guinevere
A cart, Sir Lancelot did steer
To reach the hold where she was kept,
Then toward the treacherous knight he leapt.
He bested him with slash and blow,
But to Sir Lancelot's great woe
His Lady simply laughed in jest
And saw no honor in his quest,
For he arrived upon a cart.
Thus, broken was the young knight's heart,
And in a rage he left the place.
He longed just for his Lady's grace.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
The young and bold Sir Lancelot
Had shunned the lady of Shalott
And all the swooning maidens, dear.
His heart belonged to Guinevere.
And were she not to Arthur, wed,
She'd have the heart-sick knight instead.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of sad Sir Lancelot du Lac.
So when he quested for the Grail
He made a promise he would fail.
He said he'd not love Guinevere,
But as he spoke, he shed a tear.
He knew one day their love would end
The table round, and hurt their friends.
So when this promise he did break
The land of Camelot did quake.
For Agrivan, King Arthur, told
His wife did love Lancelot bold
And Arthur sent her to the pyre
To end her sinful love, in fire.
But Lancelot, his queen, did save
And Arthur fell into the grave
And all the knights of Table Round
Were torn apart, could not be bound.
And thus the fall of Camelot
Was caused by one Sir Lancelot.
But so it goes, such is the luck
Of bold Sir Lancelot du Lac.
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 9:29 PM UTC
.. For as flying.
Spying
Places repose.
Dream, suppose.
Dreams loll without respite Shady oak. Bright swirl spring breeze
Of green crisp apple bite. Shelter bespoke. Insects morn, vast seas
As gold burns warmer. Sleep, still abuzz. Clouds as beat wings
Sun shadows corner Seconds love. Million insects sing
Dreaming more light Eyes shut, island. Time goes, seconds fit
Colours mix despite. Twig woodland. Seen today, exquisite
Great light bested. Instant, rested. The rays pestered
Shadows nested Dreams vivid. Up, now rested
Colours
Mull
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 5:38 PM UTC
The Pigeon Gent,
He woos and coos around the river bent.
Pursues his muse with artful dance and skillful prance,
With inflated neck and ruffled plumage, until his energy or luck is spent.
He then resides by ebbing tides to ponder on his next advance.
"Now Now", "Whats This" the gent exclaims,
A shadow looming from the skies.
With ***** and claps he glides and lands with full surprise,
He spies the intruder, "A fellow Brooder".
Pigeon gent cant believe his eyes.
Pigeon Gent cannot believe the sauce,
The scurge seems intent on taking his prize by force.
At once he knows he must respond,
And force this illbread vagabond to abscond.
At once chest puffed and muscles flexed,
With wild eyes he jabs and pecks.
To teach this ruffian respect,
So on his actions he may later reflect.
He stands his ground both large and proud,
To make example of this foul winged burglar from the clouds.
"You insult me sir" he shouts aloud,
To make his intentions clear for all the crowd.
For several rounds they fight and scuffle.
With intruder retreating, feathers ruffled.
Then bested suiter fairly parted,
The quarrel ends as fast as started.
The vanquished victor displays and grooms,
As peace and honour now resumes.
Soon the ripples upset the green,
An armada of ducks come on the scene.
Alerted by the heightend coos,
They race to see what act insues.
The mighty mallards, Kings of the river,
None contest their right of way.
Their ways of conduct such generous givers.
Majestic river royalty, the law is always what they say.
On bank or shallow pebbled river they have always been,
They love to feed and breed amongst the river scene.
There royal cape made up of browny reds and shimmering greens,
reflects and intejects on mirrored water skies and evergreens.
To their mates for life and lady lovers,
The mallard gent is like no others.
Such loyalties are seldom seen,
In modern times and different dreams.
Fine and lean with striking features,
Best examples of river teachers.
But at any moment no matter how abrubt,
A river duel may easily erupt.
Battle can ensue and rage,
As both apponents approach and engage.
For they mate for life as duck and wife,
A rarity in any age or life.
Sep 2, 2018
Sep 2, 2018 at 1:38 PM UTC
The secrets you shared
Opened my eyes real wide
Had to take the burdens
That you bared
Couldn’t let them lead you to death
I ****** out the poisons
Plaguing your mind
I wasn’t about to sit on the sidelines
I’m a fighter
Takes a lot to knock me down
It’s gonna take a lot more to take me out
Demons
Hunt me down
All of the darkness
I took that from you
Now I’m wanted
Demons
Hunt me down
I’m not one to be outgunned
in a fight
This time around hells wrath
may have me bested
In its fury
Demons
Hunt me down
I’ll do what I have to, to stand my ground
Once purified
Now drowning in darkness
Opened eyes
Fill these abandoned woods
Everywhere I turn spirits haunt me
I’m not scared, I’m not afraid
It was in this place
My life was made
There’s comfort here
And I’m alright
I don’t second guess
The decision I made
Alone with the ghosts
You gave to me
I told you I’d take them from you baby
Demons
Hunt me down
All of the darkness
I took that from you
Now I’m wanted
Demons
Hunt me down
I’m not one to be outgunned
in a fight
This time around hells wrath
may have me bested
In its fury
Demons
Hunt me down
I’ll do what I have to, to stand my ground
Heaven shut me out
Long ago
I’m just another abandoned soul
I’ll walk these deserts for the rest of time
Taunted by the nightmares that kept you awake all night
I hope you sleep peacefully in dreams
You deserve the best baby
I’m the one who took your pain
Made it my own
Cuz I could not watch it hurt you, no more
I’ll fight for you forever
Your angel in the darkness
I’ll fight until the end
Until my wings are ripped from my back
Until my eyes run black
Demons
Hunt me down
All of the darkness
I took that from you
Now I’m wanted
Demons
Hunt me down
I’m not one to be outgunned
in a fight
This time around hells wrath
may have me bested
In its fury
Demons
Hunt me down
I’ll do what I have to, to stand my ground
©2018 Written By Benji James
Mar 30, 2018
Mar 30, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
Your past is a wasteland, don't let it steal YOUR potential away
Although the pain may be all consuming, you must overcome it and live to fight another day
For your own sake, say goodbye to your crutches, those things that hold you back
Lock them up tightly and put them to rest, now's the time for you to get your life on track
Wonderful things come to those who learn to adapt, this is true for children most of all
Great rewards are waiting for you on the other side of that pain you let fester, stand tall
Seize control of your inner self, mold it to your ideal, and hold that vision of you in high esteem
Never doubt you’ll get there, be cocky if you must, this is your future, it’s not for sharing with the team
Nurture thoughts of becoming a better you, help them grow and shift you from negative thinking
The mind power you wield, it's like that of the sun, it can burn away the old and energize the new
Climb higher than ever before, you are the only one who can make your dreams come true
A toast, to the promise of better days to come
A toast, to the journey of life, in all its up's and down's
May we rise to the challenge, when our armor is tested
May we rise to the challenge, when our strength of character is bested
Live strong, live proud, live free.
- Strive For Greatness
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 6:02 PM UTC
this mumbling fog lurks tonight
across pointed shadows,
living between triangles of manufactured light,
pivoting between and around one another accordingly,
shaping themselves how they are queued to.
this smoke reflects against unlit windows,
like these dogs that howl in chorus,
breathing a shift of movement into the air,
leaving the city under a bested silence.
a finely tuned design
that these empty streets
may speak without interruption
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
As I was sitting at my desk studying for finals,
I heard in the distance the sound of a Clown's Horn?
"honk-honk" the sound grew louder and closer "honk-honk"
Fairly certain the Circus had not come to my Apt. complex,
Bested by my curiosity as it continually increased
My need to discover the horn's origin became the priority over my studies.
My focus shifted from the page in front of me holding all the answers,
To the outside world were the answers where yet to be discovered...
Breaking free of my "Study Shackles"
A new goal to precedence over all obstacles,
Mind now on a single track,
The spirit of pioneer steers my intentions,
Set forth from my dwelling, into that vast universe of possibility's
That simpletons refer to as the parking lot.
Honk-Honk the sound hit my ears like a search beacon would register on radar,
How far past my car or 100 cars who cares
What was this I continued to ponder in the recesses of mind that was playing like it was recess
Placing a collect call to myself I called my other senses to man their positions.
Sight-CHECK! but nothing was seen,
Touch-CHECK! but my feet and the ground was the only contact being made.
Smell-CHECK! But nothing, wait hold for confirmation....
Could it be... ELOTE!?!
Corn on the cob... on the stick!!
Mexican style elote!!
I had not enjoyed, "G-lote or Getto Elote" since San Jose
Since the last time I spent time with cousin Chip
Then just as I turned the corner the beacon sounded once more
"Honk-Honk" ELOTE....! and it was only $1.50 Perfect!
Proceeded to purchase two, one for me and one for you,
My cousin my brother...
Devouring mine with you in mind,
Took a single breath took stock of what was left,
Thought, "If I wait for Chip to come eat his it will get cold before he arrives, and who wants to eat cold elote?
Not my Cousin Chip, He's a Gracia
We are just better then that.
So I did what I believe you would have done for me if you where to find yourself in the same predicament,
I ate it nice and slow.
Thinking about how grateful I am to call you my family, my cousin, my friend, my brother,
I made sure that I enjoyed every bite,
In that for a moment no matter how brief it actually was we where together again,
In my minds eye laughing, joking, enjoying elote together....
I love you and I miss you cousin,
You are always in my prayers and in my heart.
If only Australia were not so far away...
Dec 31, 2011
Dec 31, 2011 at 4:26 AM UTC
Texas mud, a mud that cakes
A mud that strikes fear
In boots and trucks alike
After fresh summer rain
Billowy clouds rolling a long
Singing their thunderous song
Natures long cool drink
I was muddy once
Moms words i didn't hear as i hit the back door
Thoughts of squishy toes and big smiles
A freshly made mud pie for my sister
I was muddy once
To a boy of ten 2 acres goes on for miles
A whole mess a villains ever willing to meet
The business end of my B.B. gun
And the neighbors nurf gun
I was muddy once
From the trenches of France
To a foxhole on Mars
Only fenced in by the outermost stars
I couldn't be bested
Backyard hoops to creek jumping
Swing sets to sword fights
I was muddy once
The only thought of future
Was what tomorrow would bring
New adventures, new places to see
And all you can drink sweet iced tea
I wanted to be something great when i was a kid
I wanted to be great
I wanted to be a paleontologist, doctor, lawyer, cop, superhero, captain of a yacht, a and mountain man, and never wanted to get married cause girls had cooties and dolls
As it turns out I am none of those things
As it turns out, what i needed most
Was i ran rarest away from
I became something i never thought i would be
I became something i never thought i could be
I am becoming a servant of the King
The mud which once covered my hands
Bound my heart in a thick, clogging bog
Only when i thought no longer of receiving glory
I began to poor grace out from this imperfect jar
Glory pored to a being more eloquent than I
Who hath poured mercy like wine
Love as a fire
Turning my so called foundations into Texas mud
Turns out God doesn't want me to be a doctor
Turns out God wants the willing not the able
i found something bigger
Than the thoughts i thought i knew
How glorious days of old
A tear to my eye and a distant memory
To stretch and grow is one thing
A loss of splendor another
When others think of yesterday,
Dream for tomorrow
Dream and dream big,
For God is bigger still
He rejoices in imagination
Delights in the mind of a child
Reclaim that which we've lost
For you were muddy once
I was muddy once
Apr 12, 2011
Apr 12, 2011 at 1:30 PM UTC
The worse thing I could see in this life to me
is the insight on what's going on inside the
mind of another person whose eyes when
tested are wide open yet half closed an
glazed fixed with a message
No rest
**** bested
Just like me with a feeling that's overrated
I'm never waking cause your never sleeping
Yeah that's what we call self medicated
Drug dedicated
To ****** up to hate it
Even when your looking into the eyes of another behind a two way mirror that's not so two way
I'm faceless
A psychopath unlike the rest
So let me color this
Wait did you say something
Whos there
No one It's just you
Then whos looking back
Just yourself
That doesn't look like me
Why because they walk talk and dress different
No because I'm here and their there
A fact created by self absorbed ******** who believe to have made it
A bunch of fakes spitting venomous lies deceit filled eyes
Stabbing the backs of friends and foes alike
believing to be justified with what it is they
do
So don't you even begin to believe that
**** too
Now count to blue and remember there's been to few of us created with two sets of eyes so different yet their look is self imitated
Originality being one oh one over one duplicated known to be unrelated
Something I see each time I see my reflection so you're the worst thing I could see along
with this ****** up connection
Now don't get me wrong it’s amazing how we in no way tried to be found found each other
But I don't know if i’m ready for the inside tour of another just like me but uncovered
A psychopathic lover
And as I begin to laugh I hope like me you won't quit because if your like me we're
made for this wicked ****
I'm ****** glitch
Broke like a *****
Why am I so lyrically rich
That being said I gotta say I'm happy that **** so far has stayed where it belongs tucked away unlike this song
Inside my mind with the imagination creations I've created in my crayola crayon nation made education
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 1:13 PM UTC
The blood clot is
back. Up to old
tricks. A halloween mask.
A heart attack with a laugh,
One day. that old
**** is gonna kick,
Leave me with his water gun collection .
Body in the ocean
Someone built a giant cave
inside of me last night. When I was sleep-
ing someone built a cave in side
of me last night.when i was sleeping.
Someone built a giant cave inside of me last night someone. Built a giant cave inside of me last night .
Body in the ocean.
Now it's ocean everywhere it's
flowing but nothing flows.
The ocean is still now
so still it is a salt lick.
Body in the ocean.
Chopped off his own scalp
sever'd Body after Body in
the ocean. Skinless. Battered. Beaten. Bested. Busted appendix. Internally bleeding. Externally bleeding. Bleeding from the mouth. Bleeding from the eyes, ears, and throats. The devastating side effects of self-
anhila-
tion..
Every one laughing at the bl
o
odclot
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 10:17 AM UTC
Deep beneath deepest reaches
of the furthest recess of my mind
I found a craven creature, singing,
madly clawing blind into the darkness
desperate to find a shaft of light
by which to see its tattered tethered binds
unbound.
Screeching at its unknown captor.
Screaming to the sky.
Shrieking like a banshee being slaughtered but alive.
Bellowing, bruised, and blackened beast,
best buried deep below-
you'll never see the light of day,
Nor freedom shall you know.
Claw madly at your cavern walls;
Howl mournful;
Be untamed.
But do not expect a civil birth,
born free of shackled chains,
without first being bested
by him to whom you belong;
whose nights you terrify;
who wrote your sorrowful song
May 15, 2017
May 15, 2017 at 4:09 PM UTC
Merrick, was he
And now farmer.
The ghost of the Euridi wars
But now simply father.
She gave unto him Ilo
And then passed.
A treasure from her *****
For what more could he ask?
The grey in his hair
And the wrinkle upon his skin.
As his daughter kissed his cheek
He thought not of past sin.
Ilo sang as the angels
And glided with beauty.
But her sickness had doomed her
To waste away rudely.
Traveller Nner spoke of
Arcadia and the four ghosts of God.
Far away, over mountains
Plagued by demons and monsters odd.
Ilo can live again,
Warrior-farmer-father.
Across the desert, ocean, and mountains
Do not falter.
Staff in hand,
Upon Kerona he rides.
Eastward towards the ghosts
With Ilo's body by his side.
Dragon of desert lands,
From the sand to the sky, fly
Breathe of fire, brimstone
A war through the night.
Cut deep
The flesh of the fire breather.
For your daughter Ilo's soul
Hangs in the ether.
Victory and blood
But her body lies still.
No gain from this battle.
Only sorrow and hatred to feel.
Forward to the ocean,
To the lair of the giant serpent.
The one who drinks up the waters
And will not relent.
The mighty beast,
He steals away Ilo's body.
To the floor of the earth,
Beckoning Merrick hotly.
A foul beast has stolen
The body of my daughter.
Merrick breathes in all the air
And follows after.
A war under water,
Flesh and blood in twain.
****** into the belly of the beast.
A nameless grave.
Burst forth from the entrails,
Ripped, bitten, and torn.
Another beast overcame.
Another victory, though forlorn.
He holds her body
And her head against his.
A tear he permits.
His life would he give.
To the forests of Zalvest
To the lair of evil.
Black magic awaits
To unravel his meddle.
Trickery of the mind,
Manipulated with horror.
Recalling the gruesome battles of Euridi
And comrades lost to war.
Blinded by fear,
By the demon wizard of Zalvest.
How helpless he feels.
Lay the ghost to rest.
Acceptance of sin,
Parting with guilt.
A wizard rendered weak,
The evil-willed welps.
To the four ghosts of God
Atop the mountains of Arcadia.
Breathe life to Ilo
I have bested the sons of Echidna.
Not ghosts of God,
But of the devil.
A sacrifice for a life,
A hero laid low to their level.
And Ilo is raised,
Her breathe is now her own.
With his parting words
His love is shown.
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 4:23 AM UTC
we all strive for perfection.
be it the perfect life, perfect wife, or just perfectly out of strife.
perfection in itself, is imperfect.
for in order to be flawless,
one must never skip a beat.
or give that vegan such innocent meat.
perfection has no regrets, no trial and error.
just trial and success.
how often can any of us say we have bested our best,
only to find that test and all the rest were but a jest.
we've all been made fools,
some even used as tools in a greater plan.
nobody is perfect or flawless.
even jerks can become jaw-less
when karma completes its cycle.
some keep their shields up.
i've laid mine on the floor.
you might dare to taunt me,
even flaunt your skills galore.
i laugh, you scoff,
i perform and you're off.
those who guard what's underneath
are still chasing perfection, they will not bequeath
the honor and glory of a more perfect story
than their own.
they seize the throne through force
while i am appointed as time runs its course.
honestly speaking, perfection is dead.
i perfectly love imperfection, unique from toe to head.
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 3:03 PM UTC
How can I
Mere mortal man
Write verse and rhyme of Venus?
For She is Herself
Poetry
These black days
These barren days
That turn my soul to ash
And char the fibers of my soul
And all because I must be away from Her
I am drained
In the absence of my Venus
I am pained
By the space now forced between us
But I will overcome the fractures
Not bested by this distance
For always has She been
Just beyond
The morning
The horizon
The road
The hallway
Yet through these barriers
I have persevered
I have roared at the enemies that keep me from Her
I will not rest
No
I will not be satisfied
No
I will wager my everything on Her
Yes
For Venus
My all
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 4:35 PM UTC
I have been denied such honor to explore thy flesh. I long for the day that it shall be mine to cherish. Savoring every inch, savoring every scent.
I'll thank God adamantly for a gift such as this.
Once permitted, I shall lay thy sweet vessel upon thy pillow and ravish thy flesh until my hearts content.
Whispering sweet, wicked things in thine ear. No decent mortal being would ever want to hear.
Seizing thy body, as it is mine to clame.
Peeling away what stands between I and my domain.
Passion nearly lost, beholding what was underneath. So much desirability, you hid beneath.
Such seduction, such physique. Deny me this not for satiation you will reap.
Stand before me now. So I may admire thy beauty. Appreciation is yours for the taking.
Come to me my dearie. Allow me the honor to have thee.
Forcing your body to the wall. Muttering, I must have it all.
Without delay. I rest a kiss on thy divine lips. Soaking in your taste, ah such sweet bliss you possess.
Drawing you closer as I relish this moment. My temptation has won, finally bested.
As our passion heats, goosebumps do meet.
Your skin tingling, feeling your craved relief.
To late to cease. I must have this sweet, sweet release. Laying you down, preparing my feast...
My coming Honor.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 4:21 PM UTC
You raised them
You should keep them
And pay all their bills;
What you raised spills
Over into the common weal
And fears become real
As they are ignorant
Greedy and mean
Worst we’ve ever seen
And no hope of salvation
From your creation.
Are you afraid of your kid?
Is that what you did;
Let him or her do whatever
And you never told them
What is wisdom or whim?
Let them do what they please
As long as they don’t sneeze
In church or belch loudly
Then you can go on proudly
Bragging about your good child
Until they run totally wild
And get themselves arrested.
Then your lies are bested
And your laziness outed.
No wonder you pouted.
When things go wrong
You want someone to come along
And take care of things
And pay the fines that brings
Because they are sweet, down deep.
Then you go back to sleep
Because life should be easy for you
And the things your kids do
Are not your fault, so back out to buy
More magazines about movie stars
And slobber over newer cars
And ***** about the schools
Not teaching them the rules
And how to pursue them
Then you go out and sue them
For teaching what you do
And not what kids should do.
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 6:13 PM UTC
Listed bookmarks of old, and baited non-benifit of the doubters.
A kind rewinded word of advice heard, pattern of choices and actions made a bested resounding thunderous sound,
near then , how come the doubters tested and warned to the trap not come, where graced benefit of the doubt be a stated consideration on that very **** day?
To the impact indicators blinking a sudden turn of the coat or is it the tail wagged the dog in the fog of a psychological electronic war that must be raging in the minds of the internet cheerful happy people as not it has in the walk and mind of mine, for i laid bare so as to share the scare i knew to find , and thus almost lost it all , wit correction, but you cast a guilt-ed hazy trash to one more that willing to best you and test you for the proven faith and trust he already gave, oh wait, or was that simply entertainment for the view of you ? so, um, sit down, you could have listened to me and gave benefit of the doubt, or did you forget what all this is truly all about? saving those whom have and are being manipulated into utter turmoil and death by these blood sport games in these windows... remember there "friend"? or is it ol craig and his lists are totally as bad off as little ol me, for shurly you see, that even she is free to some degree and will as i have walked all through , forgiven, yet my dear friend, do you think such grace for me? considering,most forget why the hell we have been doing all this and i walked you all through such ******** things... oh, sorry, i am sure you were getting around to that human trafficking thing, right? well, at least there are good people doing that as we speak, and for them we are grateful, are you?
Oh and no i am not mad nor upset, just disappointed, i always tell you what is coming and to choose. and still i harm you not even if it harm me.
The Unforgiven I,II and III - Metallica - (LYRICS)
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i-HiAEXQP38
Motörhead - Ace of Spades (slow Acoustic version)
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tc-PVTj9UCk
AC DC - Who Made Who lyrics
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GuFq3ynnBo8
AC DC Ride On
h ttps://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ugwlIQ8K4Vs
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 1:22 AM UTC
This old House,
Now decrepit and haunted.
Once lush,
with hope and excitement.
Washed away by time,
Forgotten like an old memory.
The once lavish halls,
Dulled and musty.
Time bested this place,
Lonely and still.
Cobwebs comb the building,
Showing signs of discontent.
Clouds mull around above,
Mocking this great place.
Alone is the forest,
That now owns the land.
How long,
Will this place last.
Screams of despair can be heard,
Haunted by memories.
Littered with broken dreams,
And scattered promises.
This old house,
Crumbling down.
Can it be salvaged,
Or is it forever doomed?
Jun 8, 2014
Jun 8, 2014 at 5:00 AM UTC
My jaw has welded itself shut in an iron grip,
Teeth straining under the load as they are compressed
And ground together,
Aching joint failing to remind me to unclench.
What little sleep I have gotten has also sought to seal my mouth,
Until morning brings with it the sharp pain and popping I am now accustomed to.
Sores line my inner lip,
Pale, stinging pits reminding me how close I am teetering on the edge,
Body clinging to its composure amidst sleepless nights
And adrenaline baths.
A feeling like fire alternately surges up my sternum and over my shoulder,
The taste of stomach acid hot on my burning tongue.
I wonder how long I can keep this up
Until the shoulders , taut with paranoia and effort to keep me safe
Pull my very bones apart with aching muscles.
Perhaps I will be consumed from the inside,
Cracking open the same way my chest already feels.
What am I doing here,
Amongst the memories, the mournings, borrowed time?
I am trying desperately to save her from her certain fate
With love and worry and prayers to her God, the one I don't believe in.
I am also trying to save me, the little girl I used to be,
From the torment I know she will experience anyway,
Wishing fervently I could pull her through time and space
Into a world that isn't trying so hard to **** her for who she is,
The space she occupies unknowingly.
I'm haunted by the mouths of children, the words and hands of grown adults
Who did a thorough job of reducing her to mere mud and human filth.
That girl, young, wide-eyed, desperately lonely and confused,
Burning with self-loathing and pain no one will admit to causing,
Haunts me, climbs into bed and warms her frigid form with my body heat.
I can't save her,
The same way I can't save dying grandmothers or dead friends,
Yet my body is tormented because my mind is tormented.
I am cracking, slowly,
Pieces at a time.
But I'm not so easily bested now.
That little girl built armor and walls and weapons to guard herself,
So I down another cup of coffee,
Pour salt into the sores,
Crack my jaw,
And get back to work.
I have to save myself, too.
Feb 16, 2021
Feb 16, 2021 at 4:21 PM UTC
and enough of this endless restless nesting fetish.
Incomplete sentences stammered by the breathless
Full of obscure references overtested by the bested . . .
forget to forget the last failure from my past and we'd run rampant and ram horns again but a circle won't fit with a square
no matter how many times you test it . . .
speak money speak *** speak respect;
you can't buy any with either or neither
but try please to succeed
and we'll watch your world crumble
Man never stops learning though unconcerned but acts concerning.
Playing the role of the wiseman the fool gives false advice
spreading vices to mice who won't stand for what's right
To be said **** the fools,
but you must protect them from what we don't know
but you'll never respect them
and you find by and by that by mingling with monsters
you're no longer a savior no longer a martyr
but instead you're so dead that you're following
following
and now like the rest you
falling
dropped
to the bottom.
Clear my mind with bleach
be my teacher, no my preacher
The need for meter seems to have defeated my reason,
unwanted, it seems, perhaps even defeated.
I often wonder how the world sees the world, I long for new perspective. The world seems unyielding, unwanting.
I am born to pry at why we are born to die; born to forever wonder why.
And why?
Answer ever answer. And forever wondering why I can never take chances. I'm often to wrought with distractions to advance.
Why did they refuse to give her a chance?
Why did she refuse to give him a chance?
Someone must've written this story in advance.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 2:18 AM UTC
Merely a silhouette with its head cocked to the side, arms reaching out, stretching through the majesty in knives, and stabbing spots into my eyes.
I rise to burn
Feel to learn
For the better of my vendettas
Steady hands
On humbled umbrellas
Of sedatives
And other derivatives
Of my dissatisfaction
In lacking patience , I repaint the pavement, and face it after lacing spaceships with the enslavement of my basements, and place it in my heart.
Spiraling in slimy things
In lucid dreams
I'm asleep
Walking amongst the dead
My demon brings
The corpse of kings
In sheets
From battered beds
I am said
To have slithered
With the best of men
Drained and bested
In the molested
Ingesting of entire
Settlements
Not to mourn
As i warned
In subtle hints
Most would whimper
As i rinsed my hands
Of this
Varmint ****
And moved on with it
I get what i got coming
As im drumming
The anthem
And humming
With phantoms
Tandem
To alchemical
Dreams
Singing
In romantic strings
Scrutinizing
My advertising
Of fiends
Leaning in
To scream
I awake unclean
Seeing
Differently
Than before
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
Never before have I faced such a formidable foe as Adobe Photoshop
I give in, it has bested me.
Oh **** it, I need to make this rhyme.
Holy komodo dragons, a bee...
Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 10:31 PM UTC
The world is filled with beauty
Long stretches of landscape and wildlife
Only to be ruined with the desire for nightlife
The trees stand as guardians without a shield
As the natural animals calmly graze in their fields
Acres are destroyed because of our greed for yield
Species devastated like a swift avalanche
The overwhelming need to breed advances will be the death of us
The earth aches as we willingly drill her beauty
And the pores exfoliate to a mess of gloomy vapor
How could we do this to our home?
We have bested our creator of life
Do we control her just in spite of conquering the land?
Or is the element of greed too powerful to handle.
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 5:45 AM UTC
We were only ever
moving through..
A transient
encounter pinked
in sprinkled serendipity
had synchronised
our step
and having met
before the bested peaks
of all that seemed unlikely
we stayed close.
Through
needless plays
of problematic metaphor,
we laughed and wept,
deplored enforced morality,
embraced a great unknown,
explored the cultic
sympathies, arrested
in our infancy
and swore an oath
eternal to the greenery
regrown..
..while knowing
well, the day will come
when one moves on
alone
Aug 7, 2021
Aug 7, 2021 at 2:08 AM UTC