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Sachin Subedi Dec 2018
One with sensation
One with feeling
One with conscience
One with tears
The cry soars to the horizon
They are killing
They are slaughtering
They are breeding
They are feeding

They need the flesh
To digest into ****
The cruelty within
The merciless beyond
The ignorance under
The indulgence upon
The assassin
The mass ******
Slaughter and evil
A call of an animal
A call of a voiceless
But a denial
A denial of the human race
Slaughter for an idea
A pitiful act
Denial of existence

Today I am going vegan
Dripped in emotion
Dripped in sensation
Dripped in acknowledgement
Dripped in the knowing
The knowing of evolution
The evolution of life
Of the voiceless
The voiceless with life
The mercy to be shown
But merciless around
The acknowledgement within
Today i am going vegan

Vegan I am
For the voice of the voiceless
The nature of existence
For the truth of the tears
The cry and the pain
The cruelty for an idea
For the civilization of the civilized
For the life as a gift it is
For respect of life
The life only, within and beyond
From now on
I am a vegan

The love for life
The truth of the divine
The truth of nature
The intelligence of human
The sensation and sight
The pain and cry
The idea to breed
The idea to ****
The idea to feed
Disrespect of nature
The ignorance
To crawl over and over
The idea of indulsion
The idea of false victory
The idea of superiority
The idea of amusement
The idea of carnival
The idea of the not alive
But idea of the dead

The alive if one
Ought to respect life itself
Turn the fire of warmth
Find the well being
With the sense of compassion
For sure fill the belly
And only with leafy greens
Yes yes yes
Nature made us as plant eaters

Think and acknowledge for yourselves
Our body is not that of a carnivore
We are not natural meat eaters
Don't have teeth of carnivore
Don't have digestion as a carnivore
A body for the plant based diet
So its natural and without a glitch
To eat leafy greens

Killing animals for an idea
Killing animals for the sake of food supply
Evil it is
Not a effort to manage food
No no no
It is a scam
Breeding animals
For the sole purpose
Of killing for feeding
Feeding the indulging ones
Feeding for amusement
Feeding for anything more than survival
Except the sole purpose
Of survival and existence
Is an evil in itself

Realized now
Realized yesterday
Realized to the haze
And through maze to eternity
Realization strikes
A light bolt
The light fills the dark
Vegan now on
Armand-DeamoJC Sep 2018
There's the boy she never noticed
There's the boy keeping it in
There's the boy trying
There's the boy lying
There's the boy crying
There's the boy
Behind the mask
Broken at last
Extremely ashamed
And vividly tamed
Behind that mask,
Is a killer;
A breeding psychopath
Behind that mask
You look at
Into the mirror
Credits to a guy who recently liked a poem of mine
Candy Flip Mar 2016
When I was a child, there was something mildly special about standing in the garden, late into the minutes leading up to my bed time. It was something about the thrill of disobedience, as if I were already an adult, making my own decisions.

This poem is about my testicles.

A thousand twinkling freckles gazed down at me. Joining the dots with a finger extended high as if gripping an imaginary pen, lines would appear. The celestial wrinkles of an old woman who wears these wrinkles with pride – the imprint left by a lifetime of smiles like how an old arm chair wears the imprint left by a lifetime of back-sides.

A singular eye governs the sky, and through what I interpret as a flirty act of desire, winks at me, through a thirty day cycle. I let out a giggle, and wink back.

On the horizon, trees sway in a purposeful and rhythmic way, as if conducting a symphony meant just for me; the delicate harmony of distant car horn beeps, the melody of crickets and bird tweets, and the gentle percussion of snapped twigs and crushed leaves.

Blades of wet grass become fingers seductively passing between my toes. A gust of wind blows and like a comb, massages out the knots in my hair, whispering through a foreign tongue pros into my ear.

And I can feel it inside, a connection with the night. As passion builds, a bird takes flight, and I let out a confident breath: I am in love with life! I’m in love with the Earth, warm days and clear skies. I’m in love with nature: the birds and mammals, snails, slugs, spiders and flies.

I await a reply.

Which doesn’t come.

Years go by.

And then, half way through my puberty, when the world was not so alien and new to me, I had the sad epiphany that maybe this symphony of car horns and bird tweets was not meant for me.

That, if I were not standing precisely here, or had tragically lost both my ears, the trees would continue to conduct their tune, unstirred by the news that their audience had disappeared.

And with this realisation, came an audible, synchronised plop, as – like a penny – my two ***** simultaneously dropped as if recoiling, paralysed in shock.

Then in the following silence, a tumbleweed drifted by as if to imply some kind of mockery to the thoughts going through my mind.

But of course, it was just a coincidence. The tumbleweed, in its oblivious innocence has no knowledge of the context of my thoughts, like a bolt of lightning can’t appreciate its momentary grasp of dominance over an angry sky. Like an atom doesn’t appreciate the burden of the service it provides, like a poem doesn’t appreciate the metaphors woven purposefully between every line.

And how could I sleep at night knowing that a hurricane could slip into existence, tear its way through a village of innocents then ******* in an instant leaving no form of apology or reason?

This is the dilemma of owning a conscious mind in a world of impartiality.

And if you don’t mind, I’m going to divide this audience into two sides: those who are matured and wise, and when they look at the night sky, see those wrinkles reflected in their own eyes – and those who are young and naïve, to whom this insight may come as a surprise.

To the wise and mature, I assure you that we are all in fact slowly dying. The only reason you’re alive is through generations of successful breeding and surviving. God is dead, and love is a chemical compound produced in your head.

And to the young and naïve, I’ll leave you with this line: despite the pessimistic undertones this poem implies, if you just don’t worry, you’ll turn out just fine.
I will now write all my poetry in pros as I feel like it leaves more freedom for my presentation.
"welcome all,"
said the porcelain girl
i might as well of figured,
"it's the end of the world".

                            the leaves have consumed
                                      all the colour of trees
                             and the crown of creation
                                             is the matriarchy

"so, please hear me out,"
you know what I mean
when they whisper and shout
of the ghost in the stream

                                "dead in the dishwater".
                                         dark as her dreams
                        "dredged from the dillinger".
                                  drown in their screams

a shuffle of vines
their flowers in twine
head like a trumpet
more toxic than wine

                                            fingers bewitched
                                           fangs set to twitch
                                          at any disturbance
                                                  imp­ulses fixed

showered in doubt
he lets out a shout:
"fire all cylinders
into its mouth".

                                        jaw clamping down
                                    neck spinning around
                           as the struggle for freedom
                                drags him to the ground

ire of conviction
penance for three
digits he lost
to the teeth of a tree

                                             mind seeping out
                                   at the cost of his greed
                                          feeding the hunger
                                        the fervor, the need

delirious scorn
impossibly mourns
for any exception
"it may as well of warned,"

                                    them of the powerless
                                        thrashing with heed
                                       "gone like a pacifist".
                                            trapped in the sea

"oh welcome back,"
said the foliage freed
of the tactile sensation
that sprouts from its seed

                                          kept on consuming
                                      prescription exhaust
                                      the mental excursion
                                                     of sanity lost

"cowards with parachutes,"
"capsules and pills,"
eyes like a retinal scan
"searching for thrills".

                                           foraging, festering
                                        freelancing hallows
                                   cross breeding plants  
                            ‘til the metronome follows

powered by irony
clad in his wit
acts without judgement,
"like they give a ****".

                                          "emptying bottles,"
                            he whimpers and wallows
                                    and keeps losing track
                           of the number he swallows

sepia countryside
stowing their lives
his thoughts becomes nothing,
but, "fractals and knives".

                         with rainbows come ecstasy
                                              dour to the brim
                                      his state of exclusion
                                       lacks whimsy or vim

demanding them all back,
"what the hell's this?"
a handful of circlets
clasped to his wrist

                                           pattern of entropy
                                             has its own plans
                                  but some intrepid hero
                                  keeps swallowing them

"so welcome now,"
to the end of line
"i should've made assumptions,  
i'd be losing my mind".

                    "they wanna watch me dancin'
                                           like a marionette",
                          but ‘til they pull the skin off
                                       i'm filled with regret

if that was my first take,
"what was my name?"
can someone explain
all the smoke and the flame

                               "i can't understand you".
                                 your words are so thick
                    and the voices are whispering,
                                               "you don't exist"
Robert C Ellis Nov 2018
I regret the souls I left here
Half cleaved and teaching
Astronomy to my clandestine
Childhood believing streets
Have meaning
Stellar travelers, we have no
Breeding past the
Capillaries and breathing
We are the soot of Creation,
Tylese Bennett Oct 2018
I like to think,
that there is a tomorrow,
that yesterday,
we weren't hollow...

For us to be,
the nice ones,
for us, to of never fired that shotgun...

To know that you are safe under the law,
for you to know,
that there is always more...

More to do,
with life than breeding,
even though,
that it is our only meaning.
Earth is so delicate
that we must
take only
what we need
From Her

For She is the
life breathing
in life
storms breeding
rage and thunder with
the cold wind
nudging at our bones

When we choose
to actualize our
disembodied arrogance
upon Her
we wake Her wrath

Then in the most
she slowly deals
our final fate
duane hall Feb 27
Nicole was a beauty, I thought she was a player
To win her affections I didn't have a prayer
She was poetry in motion, she always had a flair
A woman of such breeding is indeed rarified air
As I tripped  on my tongue and asked for a date
I felt terribly awkward and inarticulate
She looked me in the eye and said "What took so long?"
My initial impression of her was totally wrong
As the days passed by and I got to know her
I discovered her inner beauty exceeded her outer
She was the love of my life, I can still hear her laughter
The sparkle in her eyes always brought me such pleasure
Oh how I would love to go back in time
When life was easy and we were both in our prime.
Dr Peter Lim Oct 2018
But youth argues
too loudly it has all the answers
and is adamant it shall save the world
from its ugliness, corruption and decay
nothing shall stay in its way--
further still it proclaims:
we will be around forever
as we will die never
our spirit breathes out fire
and shall send a message
through the universe:
we are the world's saviour
none should question this or doubt--

youth--but the interregnum
the innocence that borders the naive
still in the breeding ground
of life's kindergarten
pain and sorrow to suffer
in all shapes and sizes
to be marooned and left bereft
in the aftermath of bitter experiences
that know no respite,  reason nor rhyme
then follow the withering of passions
the death of dreams and hopes
the helplessness and despair
like once-lovely petals dropping away
to be forgotten by time--

rude awakening
the voice breaks
into sobs
the heart aches.
* Retitled from SUCH IS YOUTH
JaxSpade Jan 6
Drawing flies

Sinking in the deepest of ****
Feeding your maggots
So you could survive
When you wish you could die
Instead of live

Drawing flies

Smelling like ****
You sink deeper into it
Developing habits

Drawing flies

Feeding your maggots
Breeding your lies
On rotten garbage

You wish could die
But some how you manage
Looking like ****
Sinking into its damage

You're Drawing flies
When you should've flushed the toilet
You went for a ride

Now your living in the sewer
Smelling like manure

You wanted die
Maybe you should do it

Because your drawing flies
And the tears you cry
Just won't wash away
Everything your doing

You're drawing flies
Living in the sewage
***** in a lie
And its too late to try
Because you're just a guy
Who **** on his life

And stepped into the image
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