"boughten" poems
The witch that came (the withered hag)
To wash the steps with pail and rag,
Was once the beauty Abishag,
The picture pride of Hollywood.
Too many fall from great and good
For you to doubt the likelihood.
Die early and avoid the fate.
Or if predestined to die late,
Make up your mind to die in state.
Make the whole stock exchange your own!
If need be occupy a throne,
Where nobody can call you crone.
Some have relied on what they knew;
Others on simply being true.
What worked for them might work for you.
No memory of having starred
Atones for later disregard,
Or keeps the end from being hard.
Better to go down dignified
With boughten friendship at your side
Than none at all. Provide, provide!
1.7k
1.19.
It’s been
thirty three days
since I had a my
last nightmare
I still have my
dreams of
realities
soon to come
What I see
there
is far more
frightening
then any
nightmare
you can dream of
This is why my
presence
has become so
haunting
When I speak of
the things
I have seen
Memories of
my voice engraved
forever in your
thoughts
Like silk tainted
with burn marks
I am the fire
that lives inside
you
When your soul has
become burnt out
I will call it my home
Try to defeat me
I will take you down
from within
All your bottled up
desires
I will turn into a exotic
perfume
That’s how I know
You’ll be back soon
My infections ways
Defective tapes
As I examined back
in time
I realized
I was my own saviour
It’s so hard
to be a Saint
when you’re
this good of a
Sinner
Yet a bad
Sinner trying to
become a
Saint
Neither black nor white
Neither light nor darkness
I am not the space either
But the space
between the space
A woman gone Grey
An rouge observer of what is to come
This is why
my beauty terrifies
You have seen me
before
Everywhere
In dreams and memories
of make believe
In magazines and
works of art
A timeless beauty
Flawed and adored
Boughten of the
shelves
of dusty stores
I have become a
bi product of
provocative thoughts
A alluring fantasy
of a collective humanity
That seduced you
into believing
I was something
I was not
That’s why my
words
you will put on your
grave
I am the first
to wake up
And the last
to fall asleep
Can anyone tell me
Who I have become?
Jun 11, 2019
Jun 11, 2019 at 4:51 PM UTC
Hey hey it's common as parlance
to the pathos of the rain
and hey it's often as sympathy
to the elation in this state
Hey it's disconnection
to the people in their place
and hey it's not often
that permanence relates
each bead is a lens
magnifies the sincere
I'm rainbows for water droplets
give hail to storms my dear
Oh oh it's gone as defiance
to the pathologically ingrained
and oh it's not rotten
to the habitually irate
oh oh It's introspection
to the narcissists plate
and oh it's boughten
with gentic smiles by trait
each born is a bed frame
ridgid and affixed
her bedsheets to boredom
in covered models of make
Hey hey it's common as parlance
to the pathos of the rain
and hey it's often as sympathy
to the elation in this state
Hey it's disconnection
to the people in their place
and hey it's not often
that permanence relates
Aug 28, 2013
Aug 28, 2013 at 7:32 PM UTC
THE LADY OF ALOT
Estatic when she's shopping,
The boughten things she's got;
Right proud of all her purty stuff,
She's The Lady Of Alot.
Alot of costly Chinese stuff
Imported hear by Walmart stores.
She useta shop at I Magnums but
She don't like them ones no more.
Irregardless, she believes she
Ain't not no ordnary ****
If she'd of got haffa chance
She'd of voted twice for Trump
And the strait Republican ticket
So The Donald can fix are country
Like he exhaled in his own companies,
Making lots of good clean money.
In her sweatshop-made clothing
She shouts allowed she can't wate
For the Grand Old Party and Trump
To agin make Murrkuh grate!
She feel she's happy in her ivory tower
With all the treasures she has got.
She sees nothing wrong with this country
The dense, nearsighted, Lady Of Alot.
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 6:19 PM UTC
Laying with my heart wide open,
trying to understand your words spoken.
You tell me to accept your token,
but here I am, bent and broken.
Looking back into our past,
I thought that we would always last.
But then you ripped my heart wide open,
and here I lie, bent and broken.
You aren’t a simple love was lost,
It was my heart your facade cost.
But there were much too few words spoken,
so here I lie, bent and broken.
And as I dig in my well-bent mind,
I’m going to have to leave you behind.
A million apologies you could have boughten;
Too late. I’ll always be bent and broken.
Nov 6, 2011
Nov 6, 2011 at 12:57 AM UTC
avi died a painful death
last autumn.
he used to talk about
it often.
never saying a word
but his words-
well they were rotten.
nobody cares though
nobody cried
nobody died;
and he was forgotten.
he was here though
and he did grow
for a minute or two
that once-
into a forest
that was boughten
his only begotten.
he died in vain
his veins, he shot them.
took out his eyes and smile-
he had just got them.
i remember watching him
drink his sins and scars
from afar,
the world filling with howls
and his insides with cotton.
sun going down and the naked
trees, the leaves and him
all of them.
hitting the rock ******* bottom.
avi died a painful death
last autumn.
and. i am. still. alive.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC