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MisfitOfSociety Dec 2019
Venus of the drains,
Receiver of their prayers and offerings.
Tires of the gifts washed down the streets,
From the city of the rats.

A goddess, prisoner of the rats,
Down in the belly of Cloaca Maxima.
Like the bud of a tossed away cigarette,
They’ve opened a forest fire.

This is how it ends,
Drowned in their own tithes and offerings.
The prisoner of Cloaca Maxima,
Is sending every prayer back to its sender.

Corruption, death and disease,
All flows down in the city of the rats.
When you try to call pest control,
Your blood will fill up the streets,
In the city of the rats.

You are fools, trying to build the ark when the flood has already come.
You never learned how to swim, all you vermin are going to drown.

You are up to your neck,
In your own **** and ****.
Out of all the ways to go,
This had to be it!

You thought you were rid of us,
When you pulled the handle down.
All little things add up over time,
We’re coming back up to drown,
The city of the rats!

Venus rises out of Cloaca Maxima.
Rising out of every sewer.
She’s come to deliver,
Every prayer back to its sender.

Venus pull the handle down,
Flush all this **** away.
The only way to get rid of ****,
Is to flush it all away.

We are coming out of every faucet,
Pipe, plughole, shower-head and toilet!
Swimming in a flooded landscape,
Eyes, nose and mouth just above it.

We’re rising up,
Venus’ rising up,
****’s rising up.
Out of all the ways to go this had to be it,
Drowned in your own **** and ****!
MisfitOfSociety Jun 2019
Warning!
Don’t read this poem!
It is disgusting!
Hide the kids!

-

Lady of the drains, children of the ****,
Have been taking your **** for far too long.
Her once white bridal dress is now brown,
Stained by the **** and **** you flushed down.

Death came from every open window.
Unexpected rain fell down to the streets.
You waited for the weather to carry it all down,
For Venus to take it and cleanse it all underground.

This is how the world ends!
Engulfed by your own tithes and offerings!
The prisoner of Cloaca Maxima!
Is sending every prayer back to the sender!

We are the **** and **** you thought you flushed away!
We are coming back up to drown you today!
Out of all the ways to go this had to be it!
Drowned in your own **** and ****!

You caged Venus below your cities,
Punished her with your iniquities.
You thought we were gone when you pulled the handle down,
But we are coming back up and bringing a **** storm

Venus gave us a conscious,
She weaponized us.
All little things add up over time,
Surely you were prepared for this?!

Like the bud of a tossed away cigarette.
You didn’t think much of us then.
The bud hatched open a forest fire.
You are thinking alot about us now.

Trying to build an ark when the flood has already come.
You never learned to swim so you are going drown.
Next time you shouldn’t leave your armbands at home!

You plastic wrap your stink hole,
Hoping not to add more to us.
Your chocolate starfish bursts open,
You’re gonna add more to us.
It all has to come out eventually!

We're coming out of every faucet, pipe, plug hole, shower head and toilet!

***** rising up around you,
Surrounding you,
Covering over you,
Suffocating you!
Out of all the ways to go this had to be it!
Drowned in your own **** and ****!
Love it, or hate it. You have to admit is is a pile of ****.
Aurora Feb 2020
R.J Calzonetti


Screaming cross the skyscraper’s windbreaker tapering

Aether vapour- trailblazing ****-sapien wafers

Of machinations psychotropic doppelgängers

Aristotle throttling menagerie’s philosophically hypnotic obelisks

Mind-boggling astronomical chronological esophagus

Antioxidants phosphorus catastrophic mitochondria

Beyond anaconda onomatopoeia

Of hallucinogenic Armageddon biblical umbilical cords

Swarming northern lights of aurora borealis

The chalice a battleground of Evangelion belladonna

Metalica candelabra swallowing the monochrome Hanukkah

Of a cold winter’s eldritch disintegration photosynthesis

Of innocent infinity stretching wretched beckoning requiem

The words that fall upon my page, are really just a shallow grave

Of the dawn of nighttime in my eyes, calm upon the twilight sun

Wrong is done draped on the blood moon wraiths

Skyscraped fields dusk a hollow thud below the dunes

That thumps the consumption of our fate, fumes to glow in darkness loom

Left blind in light of day you cannot see, the little pieces silver sheen

For blinding light may fade to grey, and I will never have my way

Nightfalls on another daybreak, dawning darkness, sundown on another day

Twilight plays with sparkling haze, the sky a wildfire made ablaze in patchwork scarecrows

Who etch rainbows black as a heart of coal, sold flatlining railroads

Gold wraithlike halos of stained-glass cathedrals unreal in the fever-dream of human beings

Bleeding Elysium from the seabed of dead worlds, gourds of incorporeal cornucopias

Born orchestra morsels of sorrowful oracles predicting crucifixion of ellipsis’ antithesis


(MC) Aurora


Absonant  as my pen writes the twilight, the red swallowed on horizon and bright

As through a sea of blood under my feet and shrinking mast of my mighty ship

A shadow I make on that red snow and peep into my heart’s hollow

It’s deep as much as my pen spake of grief.

I blinded in that last light and hurled like a beast dreading the songs of holy lies

That have just pained in bright and made me grieve.

They dragged me on my wings and deplumate  me as so fallen humans

They wrenched my limbs and rive my heart out and flinger me in air and I laid forever

On the stones that dank my blood.

I wait for the troth  of  demise but betrayed as it didn’t come to detract,

I laid when the horizon grinned red on my face and poured the last ale

And brutally drank the last sip of me.



R.J Calzonetti


People are sleeping under the blankets of a tranquil streetlamp

A sunflower in the damp bed of concrete

Soon they’ll be pushing up daisies

Underneath the foundation of what I stand for

Nip the bud of the flower pedalling the root of all evil like fallen leaves

Breeding paraplegic freedom from the pollen melancholic

Anarchistic polycrystalline shapeshifters drifting vilified

Buried alive like asphalt constellations crowning metallic gallows alcoholic in my solitude

See the clouds bury the ground in half a heaven’s heartbeat

Limbo’s limitless abyss the photosynthesis of the sepulchral diablo

Revenants of redemption dancing with death

Evanescent in its bioluminescent crescent moon spooning illuminated illustrations

Of Himalayan mayhem cremated avarice of ethereal onomatopoeia unravelling catacombs in God’s palindromes

Homeopathic saplings decapitated in the dismembered September wastelands defibrillator

Invigorating the nightshade white wraiths plane-walkers of Apocrypha documenting entropy

Pent up sentience avenging the endless demigods of discombobulated proclamations nocturne graceless, octaves eldritch, evangelic

Elegant elevators to flights of staircases where the air is fragrant with the fragments of stagnant stained glass asterisks

Written gospels to masquerade hostage to the faith the man misplaced the sacred hate, the passageways of apathy apostrophe

Apartheid of serpentine survivors carving smiles on the sidewalks

Farming diamonds and their detox

Arming giants like a phoenix

Carnal nihilists with their secrets

Stardust quiet as the bleachers

Start defiant still a reject

Art discipled to our freedom

Shattered hearts pick up the pieces

Jigsaw puzzles, smothered treasons

Sow the seeds and **** the reaper

Even legions rhyme and reason

Tattered flags without a penance

Good men do not go to heaven

Buy your burden at 7-11

Your exit is the only the next entrance

Resurrection prepubescent

Asymmetric biomechanics

Anguish to be reprimanded

Megalomaniac in our sabbath

Living life is just a sentence

Psalms of seance death’s senescence

Baptize vengeance lest it ventures into heaven

Ventriloquist omniscience of rhythmic equilibrium

Earthly hurricanes reemerging insurgent as the sugarcane purgatory

Primordials metamorphosis contorting rigour Mortis oracles horoscope cloaked in cloaca hallucinations

Induced irradiated amalgamated retaliatory incorporeal chlorophyll

Born from the sorcerers' spell, the cathedral of doubt

The only darkness is within oneself, light shed within a holy shell

Isolation is a lonely hell, scythes of moonlight blight of bells

Nightingales fail to halo word of mouth

Enveloped in the clouds cast shadows hex

But resurrection cannot hide from the eyes of death

Fresh as babies breath

Rank as the body festers effigies

Bless the Nephilim the questions beck

And call for some god to collect the rest

Is there any answer?

Even growth can be a cancer

Lifeless corpses once were dancers

Devils waltz on top of canopies

Heaven’s hands have touched serenity

****** brands that crushed His enemies

Stained glass sanguine dismantled entropy

Calamity ran dry insanity dabbling in humanity

Unravelling the candy wrapper saplings of happiness

Pitch black irradiant dull edges sharpening archangels, darkness reincarnating

Blinding bioluminescent glistening abyssal rakshasa sarcophagus parting monarchies

Metamorphosis coruscating fornication immortalization Tartarean

Reverberating ****-sapien scintillating hurricanes palpitation circulating ricocheting oblivion

Shining crepuscular homunculus dully illustrious

Sunless avatars, mannequins of Abaddon stygian as fallen leaves on the breeze of Avalon Evangelion

Incarceration breeding Elysium’s jailors in the cathedral of double helixes

Bethlehem's’ new genesis of Lucifer’s crucifixion

Brighter than a fallen star

Mourning in the dark

Doppelganger apostles night stalkers of phosphorous

Pockmarked arcanum bloodstained in gravestone Salem

Where the braves’ halos dined on maelstroms alone

Heirs succeeding failures of the empty throne

Filled with nothings’ own

Brimming bound by Babylonian poems

Deus ex Machina's apocalypse coughing prophets of Samsara blossoming diabolic

Life is but a Holocaust

Death the moment God forgot

Breath the only psalm we sought

Kept within a hollow box

Shedding devils, angelic, lost

Finding metamorphosis


(MC) Aurora


A world often synonymous with beauty on the horizon,

Meet my eyes you mourned demon load the strength on thee.

Crestfallen light on your wrist burns down your girth

And you can plead, just plead your twilight sun.

Watch the dead sea swallow you in the salts of agony

And drown in the anguish, hundreds of angelic bloodsheds,

Press hold of the thumbprints on your throat, you can't roar.

Sore lugubrious melancholy aired atmosphere,

And downhearted souls dispirited dragons dragged along.

The sob grim hiding in a blue funk rusty smog choking wind,

The nyctophilliac animals howl long the cold-blooded love song

In your lungs and burn.

It's the twilight sun,

Just that twilight sun.
By Aurora & R.J.Calzonetti
Lino Althaner Dec 2011
Transeúnte**


No vale la pena lo que veo.
Las vitrinas
las mujeres de pintadas cabelleras
los objetos del deseo
sus perfumes se alían con el humo del progreso.
Aromas de cloaca en las esquinas.

Y tus pasos pasajero
condenado a transitar estas aceras.
Tú te has vuelto a su medida.
Transeúnte yo diría
que eres uno con ellas.
El reloj da la hora incorrecta.

Da la hora al transeúnte
que bien sabe adonde va
aunque ignora para qué
él que nace en el engaño
él que insiste circulando en la mentira
una vez en la grande

y después en la pequeña y repetida.
Este rostro sin alma
¿sabe acaso a quién sirve?
esa boca sin verbo
¿sabe acaso quien la mueve?
¿Transeúnte no lo sabes?

¿Has notado transeúnte tus cadenas?
¿Has oído de la cumbre?
¿Has oído del abismo?
¿Has oído de la fuente
del agua de la vida?
¿No la tienes al alcance de la mano?

Ya lo sé:
la ciudad te ha hecho así
la ciudad que eres tú y que soy yo.
Aprendiste y la ciudad está contenta.
Eres tú lo que aprendiste.
¿Ya no sientes transeúnte tus cadenas?

Porque sabes pasajero
la vida y la ciudad son más extrañas
mucho más de lo que piensas
en su caso más llenas de encanto
pero también más terribles.
¿No te sientes solitario?

Transeúnte ¿me estás escuchando?
¿No te sientes extranjero?
Ciudadano si yo te dijera
que muy bajo las aceras
cubierta por siete cortezas
las más duras las más densas

allí aguarda la perla
en el núcleo de tu alma
en el centro de la tierra.
Pero dime transeúnte si me entiendes:
yo quisiera proponerte hacer un cielo
un cielo hacer de estas calles

hacer hombres de las bestias
de nosotros ciudadanos
hacer buscadores de la perla.
Yo quisiera hacerte un cielo
con mucho silencio
a lo más con música de Händel

de Vivaldi de Bach o de Corelli.
Un cielo sin tanta agitación
con calles lavadas por una sonrisa
que nunca se aleja.
¿Te entusiasma transeúnte?
¿Hacer oro de la piedra te entusiasma

y del círculo un cuadrado
y del agua del Mapocho agua de la vida?
Nos veríamos cambiados
nuestros pasos sanarían las aceras.
¿Un cielo te parece inalcanzable?
Un cielo parecido al paraíso.

¿Transeúnte
ciudadano pasajero
transeúnte te entusiasma mi proyecto?
Patrick Kennon Sep 2017
Natural uncut light gray diamonds
Fancy gray diamonds
Fancy on the value is the bid range
Light, fancy, intense, vivid
Clear cut the soul bound forest, dark diamonds are cheap
Congolese slaughtered by the heap, life is cheap, wound channels deep
Machetes replace laws in Sierra Leone, eating the hearts of children martyrs
Love of life bottled in 101 Wild Turkey
It hurts to hurt, see? Question intensely, broken fence misery
Calories packed densely, hand pounded corn, hate and bitter scorn
Addicted to violence like internet ****, lay love and the dove is lone
Pigeon drop poetry on your shoulder, cloaca **** sober
Yeah, come on over, let's sip a brew, ride a train, act a fool
Mountains folded up like wool, horns, grab the bull
Close my eyes and act the fool, toil till I boil, sip water out of a skull
Cannibalistic Kabbalah, hash smoking chai wallah
We're all slumdogs here, drink water, **** clear
Whether far or near don't be a stranger my dear
Live life like a deer, let our robot guardians allow us to return to the garden
Lock away the pain, let it harden, more dangerous the the 1st MarDiv
Once it begins you can't stop it, this like keeps me honest
Maybe you don't only get one kid
Pick yourself from the mud pit
Hate it or love it
We must rise
Above
It
'bout fluffiness of hair after washing

Now get ready for...
yup intelligent persiflage
determining if ***** "talk" gauge
correctly calibrated courtesy this sage.

Beats out global warming
by a long stretch
most important commander
must set example you betch
chore life no matter
if miserable wretch

survives impeachable offenses
enough to make me kvetch,
especially four more years
yours truly will once again become
bulimic anorexic wretch.

Versus important crisis
of planet Earth,
where Gaia's bountiful
nature woolworth
analogous wharf resplendent
docks side of ships berth state
housing electricity generating

mined resources inevitable dearth
warming chill folks
courtesy ***** hearth
reminiscent during inchoate
fetal nine months
in utero signaling imminent birth.

Quite understandable reasonable,
non negotiable, inviolable...
blah... blah... blah
scalp itching blather
particularly to prioritize
orange-blond hirsute fullness

upon rinsing sudsy shampoo lather
as expressed by this
post baby boomer
pencil neck geek father,
who attempts to walk poetic feet
across cyber sea
miraculously to slather.

Trademark seedy nonsensical
farcical gobbledygook,
perhaps posthumously printing
bestselling blank paginated chapbook

ghost written by Trump
titled Art of the Steal
detailing head and shoulders how to look
suave and sophisticated all business

swiftly tailored harried style shook
White House disguised himself as rook
key "Fake" incognito president
recruiting apprenticed bartered bride
slow vacuuming trophy wife crook

cow hoard milching, kickstarting,
inciting, generating... donnybrook
coiffing pompadour resembling
forefathers windblown periwig.

Nope not even one hair
mussed out of place,
as if teetering fountainhead
supporting Atlas shrugged

top heavy topples
and crashes scattering
bajillion easy pieces everyplace
analogous to humpty dumpty
each and every last vestige

vanishing without a trace
exiting out cloaca
subsequently intently watching
toilet bowl royally flush
clockwise if within northern hemisphere

heavy enough to sink submarine
haint no reason yours truly might gush
even if abominable ballast
saves queasy passengers
plummeting thru aerospace.
Hurriedly enroute to her royal majesty
porcelain goddess throne
whereupon earlier today
March 28th, 2022,
after incomplete defecation
sitting pretty on pissoir,
I jiggled and wiggled posterior

(analogous to performing
the *** bared hustle)
until gasping for breath
though unable to shake loose
dangling ******* yours truly
nevertheless synchronously praise zing
a mostly functioning sphincter muscle.

Gross and smelly
as human excrement considered
expelling ***** matter comprises
important function, whereby any unspent
ingested material shunted
thru alimentary canal
then spewed courtesy sphincter vent.

**** lies zing constipation
and/or stubborn stuck drek
nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
colorectal obstruction,
no matter emetics
applied with bonafide clout
without wasted doubt,
that malodorous, maleficent
malevolent malady
body electric doth flout
analogous to uranus

clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
efforts break loose,
the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined,
desperate derriere plea
for proctologist sought
to relieve constipation

equipped with a special
"J" shaped, hooked,
and designed dowel
in an effort
to pry stoppage
if/when yours truly constipated
jamming up human cloaca,
where rock solid stubborn
immovable **** emits foul

gaseous emanations accompanied
with a$$ a nine growl
followed by red hot,
fiery excruciating spasms
shooting jagged pain
inducing yours truly to access,
the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,
in place, but my ill luck
regarding aforementioned plight
merely naming said nerve pain
accursed affliction arises

analogous to parasite malefactor thieve
ving would be
equally unpleasant and offer
absolutely zero reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
thence finding me
resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
which wrought nothing,
no pain did re: leave
me bummed out ***,
but veins snapping,

popping, and crackling,
utmost effort I forcefully heave
oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
gallons of perspiration,
while lower gastrointestinal
agonizing torture didst cleave
entire abdominal
area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
and feeble poem,
I could not achieve.
**** lies zing constipation
     nothing to poo poo about,
cuz when bedeviled by
     colorectal obstruction
     without wasted doubt,
that malodorous,
     malevolent malady
     analogous to uranus

     clogged with grout,
whereat no heroic
     efforts break loose,
     the severely obstructed bowel,
thus spurring determined,
     desperate derriere plea
     for proctologist sought
     to relieve constipation

     equipped with a special
     "J" shaped, hooked,
     and designed dowel
in an effort
     to pry stoppage
     jamming up human cloaca,
     where rock solid stubborn
     immovable **** emits foul

gaseous emanations accompanied
     with *** a nine growl
followed by red hot,
     fiery excruciating spasms
     shooting jagged pain
     inducing yours truly to access,
     the werewolf within howl,
where a preference for sciatica,

     would be pleasant reprieve
along heinie kin cheeky jowl,
     thence finding me
     resorting to peeve
hush scream therapy,
     which wrought nothing,
     no pain did re: leave
me bummed out ***,

     but veins snapping,
     popping, and crackling,
     oye how aye did grieve
plus a bajillion
     gallons of perspiration,
     while lower gastrointestinal
     agonizing torture didst cleave

entire abdominal
     area please believe
without aforementioned crisis,
     and feeble poem,
     I could not achieve.
Valeria Chauvel Jul 2020
El amor ha muerto.
Lo mataron.
Yo soy testigo.
Fue encerrado en la más profunda y vil
mazmorra que esconden estos pasillos,
cuya puerta cuida Cancerbero.

Cloaca es el mundo en el que nacemos
y mi alma no ha dejado de sentirse sombra,
porque no ha habido tiempo que diste esperanza
ni heraldo con el brillo que amenace el cielo cruel.

Sobre estos suelos olvidados
las voces son lápidas pálidas
en un desesperado atardecer.

¿Se podrá algún día ver la luz
que opacan los febriles ojos?
Sin que cueste sangre y mil calvarios,
sin que la madrugada socave más a fondo
las entrañas de una flor que se marchita.

¿Qué es la vida sin la búsqueda por el sol?
Nada más que una estatua ciega,
un sueño mal pagado en la bruma,
la escoria de piezas burdas,
que alejan afable lumbre.

Es costumbre mirar el suelo.
Aquí todos son extraños.

— The End —