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Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The
Amitav Radiance May 2014
Nature has engulfed the Earth with Love
The roots firmly entrenched on terra firma
Sometimes nature’s fury uproots it all
Bringing with it, devastation galore
Yet, nature heals over time, lush green with life
Kissed with Life, by the eternal rays of the Sun
Water nurtures with the juice of Love
Breathing Life onto this planet
For Nature is Life, and we keep on strangling it
As Nature’s comeuppance may uproot us all
Our fate firmly bound to Nature; do we have a choice at all?*




© Amitav (Radiance)
Donall Dempsey Aug 2016
HOW ONE MR. TONY PERKINS GOT HIS COMEUPPANCE!

** ** ha ha
Louisiana floods

destroy the home of
Church leader who

says God sends
natural disasters

to punish gay people.

See him escaping
in a canoe

from a deluge of
"almost Biblical proportions."

I love God's
sense of humour

when outing a bigot
and an idiot.

Good for God.
Yes folks this be the man who in April this year, the then presidential candidate Ted Cruz appointed into his advisory council for religious liberty.
Bob B Oct 2016
Most of us know the tale of Cinderella,
But do you know the original German story?
It’s different from the version that I grew up with.
It’s called “Aschenputtel,” and it’s gory.
 
Cinderella’s stepmom and two stepsisters
Are nasty, ornery, bossy, ******, and mean.
They’re very good at belittling Cinderella;
And the sisters vie for the role of future queen.
 
Cinderella wants to attend a ball,
But her stepmom gives her some difficult tasks, and so
When some birds help the girl complete them,
The woman STILL refuses to let her go.
 
Here no fairy godmother comes to help.
Cinderella goes to the grave of her mother
Where she'd planted a branch that grew to a tree,
Which miraculously gives her a gown like no other.
 
When Cinderella goes to the King’s fancy ball,
She makes a tremendous impression on the prince.
Of course, no one’s able to recognize her,
And the competition makes the stepsisters wince.
 
For two nights in a row the same thing happens.
Cinderella must be in excellent shape,
For each night the prince attempts to pursue her,
Yet each night she makes a clean escape.
 
On the THIRD night he has a bright idea:
“Aha!” he says. “Someone, bring me some tar.
If I spread goop all over the steps of the palace,
That gorgeous sneak won’t manage to get very far.”
 
(Here you have to suspend even more belief.)
As Cinderella hurries to flee from her beaux,
She leaves behind one slipper in the tar.
(WHY more slippers aren’t stuck there, I do not know.)
 
On finding the slipper, the prince yells, “Piece of cake!
Now I’ll find the owner of this dainty shoe.”
When he arrives at the home of the nasty stepsisters,
The poor guy bites off more than he can chew.
 
The first sister chops off her obtrusive big toe
So that her foot can fit inside the slipper.
You see, the slipper’s not made of the kind of material
That stretches, and, of course, it has no zipper.
 
The prince starts to leave with his bride-to-be
But notices that her slipper is filled with blood.
“I don’t think that this is my future wife,”
He says and nips that nightmare in the bud.
 
In order to make her foot fit in the slipper,
The second stepsister cuts off part of her heel.
Imagine how much blood gushes forth from that.
Shaking his head, the prince says, “This is unreal.”
 
Finally, Cinderella takes her turn.
And what do you know? The slipper’s a perfect fit!
The prince—eager to exit that crazy scene—
Takes Cinderella and leaves lickety split.
 
(I hope the prince kept his wits about him.
You’d think he would, for he’s a thoughtful fella.
Certainly, he washed out all the blood
Before giving the slipper to Cinderella!)
 
Early on I told you about some birds
That helped Cinderella when she was down and out
By completing her tasks and delivering her gown and slippers.
They knew what the stepsisters were all about.
 
Well, the stepsisters come on the day of the wedding,
To mooch off Cinderella—as you can surmise.
As they amble along with the wedding couple,
The birds fly down and peck out both of their eyes.
 
Such is the fate of the mean and bossy stepsisters,
Who were deceitful and cruel, as you recall.
Call it karma, their just deserts, or comeuppance,
But let it be a lesson for us all.

- by Bob B
Sally A Bayan Mar 2016
It comes unexpected,
As is expected;
.....no one knows when.....

Sometimes, it takes too long,
Reparation eludes....fades,
Slips away.

Humanity becomes
...restless...wearied...
Humility,
Rectitude
Are two
Impossible dreams.

I ask God's
Forgiveness
When
I become
Wearied, and
Restless.


Sally


Copyright March 17, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan



>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
From foragers swinging in the trees
To hunters striding through the grass
The sun and watery sphere ruled us.

As civilized we learned to farm
To shape and harness beast and grass
Our fathers struggled with the Gods.

Now sins of fire, bow and axe and plow.....
Our **** in orbit, fouling deep in ground
All decay and rain upon our heads.

9/24/2011
inspired in part by "event" of NASA space debris falling to Earth
kirk Mar 2019
A razor is my nemesis, because the blades do not behave
Gouging cuts into my skin, that is the path they pave
But it is unavoidable, I have become a bathroom slave
To rid myself of excess hair, from a shave that I don't crave

Ever since the birth of man, it goes back many years
A growth around your lip and chin, extending to your ears
It may go down particularly well, among the bents and queers !
I'd rather have a smoother face, to avoid Ducky's and Dears

Why do men want ****** hair, why do they want a beard
Bits of stubble sticking out, a design that's rough and weird
A Goatee isn't very good, it's cattle that's not reared
You wouldn't get tickled or scratched, if beards had not appeared

Okay some guys might look alright, when they are neat and trim
Scruffy ones they just look bad, and some are rather grim
I don't want hairs growing on my legs, or any other limb
Nice smooth skin is my preference, and it's not a passing whim

There is just one problem, something I would love to ditch
Hair removal is a pain, and it's an evolution glitch
When the morning comes along, I have that same old itch
Having to shave is immanent, and a *******

How many ****** shaves, does a man have to endure
Eventually your skin goes dry, from this old daily chore
You get cut far too often, I don't want it anymore
Razor blades no longer work, and that's a shaving flaw

Girls complain about their periods, it must be so frustrating
With all that blood just seeping out, when you are menstruating
You wouldn't like it daily, there is a period of waiting
It only happens once a month, so it's not as irritating

I'd rather shave twelve times a year, without anymore hair traces
No cuts and grazes for a month, in many different places
Unscrupulous razor companies, would have no more hairs and graces
Hairy smiles would be wiped off, from their stupid corporate faces

A close shave does not exist, I think it's a fare bet
That manufactures cut your throat, with electric dry and wet
All the claims of the best, that a man can get
Sharp shavers are a fabrication, and that includes Gillette

The cheaper brands are just as bad, shops own brand or BIC
You may as well tape a knife, to a piece of stick
Are potato peelers any sharper, would they be a valid pick
Would chipped skin be as bad, or just get on your wick

One shave is not sufficient, you have to do it twice
There's always bits left behind, which isn't very nice
I would've tried the No No, an expensive hair device
Razor blades and shavers, have such a high tagged price

It makes me cross and angry, because there is no reward
When buying beauty products, which they say you can afford
Why cant you have a body switch, or a desired level cord
So you can turn of your hair, and sod Wilkinson Sword

Excess hair I do not want, except for on my head
Is stress the cause of going thin, when it begins to shed
Would it not be better, coming of your face instead
Shaving would then be reduced, and not something to dread

Many men go through the curse, of losing it on top
The older that you become, your head hairs for the chop
A full crown is all I want, why take away my mop
I didn't want a bad harvest, by losing half my crop

The only place I wanted it, I've lost my style and flair
Why does a bald patch appear, why does your bonce go bare
Is it my comeuppance, with the creation of a glare
All I want from follicles, is my head full of hair

If you want to have a beard, then that is fare enough
Don't be mistaken for a *****, by looking like a scruff
I don't want a hairy face, or stubble that is rough
Or a weird beard with scraggy parts, or any yuk *** fluff

Some men just let beards grow, and maybe that's just crazy
It's not as though they look sweet, or as pretty as a daisy
Personal hygiene may not count, if they are always lazy
To me it isn't fashionable, it makes you look old and hazy

Who wants to be a yeti, but perhaps it is too late
And wild men roaming in the woods, is evolutions own cruel fate
No matter how much I shave, it's the scratchy bits I hate
Wasted shaves when hair returns, why does it lay in wait

How much has man evolved, how much as man progressed
Personally I think the state of hair, has radically regressed
It's based on my own experience, so perhaps I am obsessed ?
Who wants a hairy monkey, when your naked and undressed ?

There is a smooth advantage, when you are misbehaving
A kiss feels much more sensual, without the crazy paving
This is all that drives me, although it is enslaving
Even with the nice things, I'm not craving for a shaving
Westley Barnes Jun 2012
Hell sometimes can be a comforting thought
When you consider the promise
of some ire of comeuppance
some reasoned placement
of interminable exile
for the ******* who deserve to end up there.
When all is considered,mortal pain working as the ruse
for an endurance of condemnation
(Mothers still wailing in their sleep for closure two generations on)
Mortal oppressors deserve to be confronted by a special kind of fear
It makes sense
The punishment is apt
Guilt has to work both ways.

But that thought is still not a resolution for me
Particularly as the opposite does'nt attract
Given the fact that I've spent the majority of my life
Frightened of Christ.

It has its origins in my own childhood
when I remember back
To when I hurried weary past
the old imposing church
on my way into town
When I was a four-year old believing
If I was'nt quick
The whole-heaving Bulk of it
would tumble flatly
upon my fragile frame
The old road home
eventually winding its way
to my limbo of soothing distractions
that childhood’s orchestra of daydreams
so fleetingly informs.

Senior Infants Religion class did'nt help either
getting to grip with the crucifix and the like
my parents having sheltered me from the harsh realities of martyrdom
and the cold damp mass congregation on empty Sunday mornings
and the scowl of that year's teacher
who had complained that I wrote too much like a spider's web
Giving us throatfuls of original sin and the rhetoric of  Easter Monday
and my childhood innocence
exposed in the opinion spoken aloud
to a classroom of trained apatheticals
that not only did I not believe that Jesus Christ was the son of god
but that he never existed either
perhaps history disproves my claim on the latter
but the former is still full of endless possibility.
(And all this before I read anything about what really went on during the Twentieth Century-Dear accomplice,I can already hear your sweetened cackle.)

Yet still faced with that emblem of womanhood’s inheritance,I accepted my first compromise of all too humane sympathies.
Bleeding Mary Immaculate,she who suffers,she who in her suffering
silently invokes that long,unquestionable certainty of life,that jump-lead rattle of conscience
and contemplation,she whose warm moments in stony acceptance of fate’s misfortunes eventually led me down that scented path where all my troubles truly began.

Christ himself continued to present
(however loud the familial chorus
attempted to reprimand my nurtured,
after-school-scepticism)those same
tingles of spinal sensitivity,that same
epidemic-like aversion,years after I had
left that winter playground where children
splashed puddle water at each other
to make reputations,and shouted mispronounced obscenities
as a means to show they had no time whoever wanted to act adorable that day.
(The first chance they were given they realised the bluff-ladder of office mentality.)

I could never really face staring
into the eyes of the owner
of that sacred heart
for more than five seconds
He accused me of far too much
without having any notion
of who exactly I was
As I got older teachers
tried to convince me
that he really was
full of love and understanding
but those portrait-painted deepest-blue eyes
could lead to a war criminal's breakdown.

And I was’nt willing to take
the sack and ashes
for any man.
Rose Alley Apr 2013
Relentless residual resentment
Anger plaguing me
I'm always meeting the wrong people
It keeps happening
They take advantage of me

I hate those that hurt
It should have been them first
No one ever really gets what they deserve

My knuckles should be permanently bruised
Because what they do makes me abuse myself
If I can't hit You I'll strike everything else

If my lungs won't spit fire
I'll write it down and spell it out
I hope it's enough to make them burn and
Put my own flames out
Seán Mac Falls Oct 2012
Lamb becomes lion,
Neocons torn to shreds— yes,
Christ's second coming.
Westley Barnes Feb 2013
(I)
People used to light candles to ward off

prophesies such as this. Stopping, each
motherly representative, for 75 seconds 
or less,
to tip match-spark to wax-thread
and hope for the best.

What ceremonial significance now

do we seek for to slow the approach

of what we know is waiting?
Oncoming march of death-knolls and unhappiness

bound up in silence 
where
once we laughed uncensored at and for

the characters who spun throughout
this town, that school, the city, our lives.

All being, understandably, becomes

efficiently replaced with obvious simplicity.

From effortless performances

of what made our lives important

back in childhood years when living
was stable and guaranteed,

now to this mongrel era of constant migration

beckoning....


The familiar is no longer our youth’s
careless summer holidays.

The Familiar is now a land where 
people don’t bother with any ideas

of an ideal existence beyond

what lottery tickets may bring.

Those who inhabit here are

more alerted to the purpose of lighting

coals in winter to shelter the children

and to keep the windows from cracking.

In summer find these same awaiting with

patient ears to heed any advice
which keeps them from going completely insane.

(II)
Go now, away
,begin
your quest, foolish schoolboy.

An entire adolescence’s
 comeuppance is due. 


Time now to seek recompense
for the years you waited

for anything significant to happen. 

Time to seek girls with inviting eyes

and lilting vowels to offer favors to.

Abled with a catalogue of charmed

intoxicants. All softened by
a plentitude of weekdays waking
at three in the afternoon.

(Does “afternoon” exist in layman’s terms? Does

he simply made do with morning, day and night?)

Then on your flight make haste

to ensure your visit merely brief.

Like only one dimension of

your day-persona be a hawk

that delivers messages

back to the ivory towers of

new central HQ, while remaining 

all cloak and whisper.

Messages from where people live

but no longer speak,

as result of an assigned sense

of failure,or complimentary

wrongdoings sought, what sorrow achieves.

Shattered lives, Ending dreams.
Tina ford Feb 2014
Neknomination its a sensation of the younger generation,
But how foolish and ghoulish trying to act coolish,
They drink sin after sin after sin from a bin, chin chin,
So wrong, along with the urging and surging from people emerging,
From the gutter, they stutter, he's a total ******........
DRINK,
Don't think,
Of the consequence, or comeuppance, don't repent,
It's meant to be fun, watch this son, I'll have another one,
Don't do it, but they do it,
Please,
He's on his knees, beginning to wheeze,
It's not good, he's spewing up blood, I knew he would,
But then the devils been chased from his den, he's not after men,
He wants the young, they'll get stung by his poisonous tongue,
Then it's done,
To late,
That wasn't great was it mate,
Neknomination it's an abomination for the younger generation.
My lips part from yours,
Urgency comeuppance,
Met with swift reliance,
Ah, sweet moan.

Clothes, shredding of real sin,
Breast naked upon chest,
Lined waterfall of spine,
Trickle arched back.

But rough your advance,
Enclose all saintly spaces,
Eyes that glaze over,
Skin and love.
~Rainn~
29/4/10
july hearne Jul 2018
we are not safe
all the markets could come crashing down
it could happen any day now

a blue origin rocket ship
never making it to its final destination

no man knows the hour or the day
no man knoweth that

bridget jones had her cigarettes
with wine and mr darcy
but i only have **** and a plastic
one liter bottle of coke zero
and no mr darcy to know the hour or the day

helen fielding, enabler of the delusional,
recycled happy endings

but the plastic coke bottle
isn't a jane austen novel
and the chinese don't want our garbage anymore

there is enough garbage in china already

"there are 8.3 billion tons of plastic in the world"
8.8 million metric tons are chinese trash
for the yangtze river to carry to the sea

sometimes i feel just like garbage previously shipped to china

trash and blue origin debris
comeuppance for the yangtze river to carry to the sea







endless oceans end
same place plastic rocketship garbage begins
https://www.rt.com/business/432912-us-waste-recycling-landfills-china/

"Garbage previously shipped to China is now piling up in places like the processing plant in Elkridge, Maryland, where tons of trash arrive every day from the US capital."
When I was waist high,
Freckles are angels kisses,
And bedtime seemed a comeuppance
Years old,
I used to wish to grow up in effort to shed my
Child's problems.
Now that the years have raced past,
I've grown into an adult's body
Along with adult problems,
And I wish I hadn't pleaded with the fates
To hurry it onward so.
Bus Poet Stop May 2015
come to me,
my beloveds
with long nails
and squinting eyes,
spare neither
claw or hook,
delve and devolve,
critique and solve
the words of this prophet
scribbled on plastic
bus seats

give me
my due,
my comeuppance,
my downfalls

will me
to be better
or worse
if that be betterment

so eagerly
will embrace,
grasp, insert
your benailing fingers,
soften, grasp,
repoint thy claws
taking thy earnest joy
at pain inflicted
as my own
as long as you dare
just say something!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A bus poem
in honor of my invitation  
my digital birthing

April 8th, 2015
Gleb Zavlanov Oct 2013
The once lively river dried, now it’s bare
Its sweet, flowing song gone forevermore
Life’s pleasant melody just isn’t there
And won’t be there to drown within fate’s shore

For I shunned hope, I shot down all of love
And cringed whenever all my problems came
Too scared to face all of these problems, tough
Regret I, for it shan’t e’er be the same

The river dried, the rush I cannot hear
Of azure streams as they snaked through life’s land
And o, ignored I every step from ere’
And each problem and every helpful hand

I stayed inside, abhorred the streaming glow
Never answered my door for hope or strife
And repeated such foolish folly though
Each day on after, each day of my life

Eventually I faced comeuppance, mine
For I deserve this pain and woe and strife
For I shunned all of bitter hap through time
For I had shunned all of the haps of life
Copyright Gleb Zavlanov 2013
SøułSurvivør Nov 2015
though the mills of God grind slowly
yet they grind exceeding small
though with patience
he stands waiting
with exactness grinds he all.

Henry Wadsworth Longfellow


for the wicked there's comeuppance
yes, for plagiarist and troll
it may not be in present tense
but evil has its toll

for the greedy human tyrant
for the fat politico
the rich are as a vagrant
trudging through the snow

******, Pol ***, Stalin
Napoleon's Waterloo
in disgrace and fallen
into hell's external stew

the world is a millstone
it grinds fine, or so it's said
born here crying and alone
finally we're dead

don't envy the deceiver
or those who perpetrate
they'll be the receiver
meet poetic Fate

God has a sense of humor
those who blot society
may end up with a tumor
in the end will not be free

those who think they're "first"?
pity the poor fools
they're actually cursed
to be the *devil's
tools

there's no skating through this life
they will all be doomed
the scepter is a poison knife
the coffer is a TOMB.


SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/23/2015
"Vengence is mine, sayeth the Lord.
I will repay."

---
David Lowry Jul 2010
I go to a church that's broken.
   One that's cracked to the core
   and had its comeuppance.

It beaten, battered and knocked to the floor.
   Some said,  "We may as well close the doors."
   "All the good is gone--we'll never be as we were before."

But God is good.
   Peace and people are slowly coming back.
   But not the same folks as when we were on-track.

Lives mired and full of sin,
   most have given up on them.
   Bruised, broken and knocked about,
   the ones who are clearly on the outs.

Now that the strong ones are on the run,
   all pretensions here are done.
   I'm glad I attend this outcast place,
   full of cast-offs from the human race.
  
God's triage comes from this salt of the earth.
   Something's finally getting done.
   We're seeing rebirth.
Susan O'Reilly May 2013
Ignored my intuition
lived to regret my folly
let down my inhibitions
he ran off with my lolly

His twisted dysfunctional lies
I believed without question
my emotions he assailed
his lies too many too mention

Won’t give in to resentment
leave disappoint behind me
I’m sure my money he’s spent
my bright future worth every penny

He’s a lesson well learnt
my eyes well and truly open
my fingers badly burnt
he’ll get his comeuppance, I’m hoping
M Clement Jul 2014
******* my comeuppance.
There's a lot of boring here

Learning new text
Fighting new 'plex
And settling into no other

Life as a smattered painting
Galaxy's attempt at recreation
Correctional institutions of cellular disillusions

Peeing off the side of the golden gate to create a meta golden gate
Ships sail underneath my toxins.

Vulgarity for clarity and cleverness for its sake.
Drown myself in intoxication and say things in it's wake.

Welcome to life post life. Welcome to a lonely impasse. Welcome to a place that God desires, let's hope it will soon pass.
Susan O'Reilly Apr 2013
Ignored my intuition
lived to regret my folly
let down my inhibitions
he ran off with my lolly

His twisted dysfunctional lies
I believed without question
my emotions he assailed
his lies too many too mention

Won’t give in to resentment
leave disappoint behind me
I’m sure my money he’s spent
my bright future worth every penny

He’s a lesson well learnt
my eyes well and truly open
my fingers badly burnt
he’ll get his comeuppance, I’m hoping
There is nothing fair about the pale light of New Spring
Air that is full of promise,
bearing no fruit or cinnamon scent
Naive contempt that we all will bear a rich fullness
Sun wick in its watery gaze.

New Spring is the forewarning of the lengthening shadow
While the flowers bloom, gnarling hands tug at their roots
Decaying the imago, delicate foundations,
ruining their artful poise.

Urge of the nightingale wavers and a swift dirge comeuppance
Clouds break apart, denying their lofty existence,
Soil blackened by the soot of His flamed feet,
Which trespass sweetly and indulge in the
scent of burning and plague.

New Spring is the cowering of my hope
and the doubts of rightful renewal
Bread I bare is stale, water a rasping thirst
My heart unfrosted and chilled from Winters gambit
Tis a Stolen Season
~Rainn~
Torin Aug 2016
I'm so tired
   Of the trying
The way I play with words
  Saying more with less
And the only lesson I have learned
Be
Simple
For
The
Masses
Are
                       Simple
Now come up
    Comeuppance all at once
Amateurs that strike against
    The professional
Its a lesson taught against from
Poets
Deaf
Dumb
Blind
And
Cynical
                       Simply said
I'm getting tired.  Hp, a community of poets,  where community matters more than poetry.  Save it for the art, or be without



https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=teMnEZjdim4
Tommy Johnson Feb 2014
The spinning torrent has brought me here
She struggled to get my attention
Bent on disclosing her abashed query of if she exists or not
By asking for my point of view

I could not answer, there was salt water filling my lungs and my body was so thrashed from the choppy sea

Eyes widened and steady, a look of anticipation covered her face
Floundering to piece together and answer with a flower in her hair
I tenderly reply with a hesitant assurance that she did indeed exist

Knowing somehow that I have been in an awful typhoon and was tossed in the enormity of the spontaneous waves

She told me to dance in the unbridled ecstasy of my survival
She knew why I crossed the sea
My lover of yesterday’s past abandoned me on a sandy shore
And left a note stabbing at my manhood, prompting me to fight for her if my love was true

So I built a boat and vigorously shipped out  
Darkeyed, mad and my heart tinted so no one could see my pain, only my determination

Roaming the ocean in an attempt to preserve my notions of love and faith

The guilt in my tender flaming heart gushed out
I’d done wrong and now I had to come face to face with me unavoidable comeuppance
Embodied in the sea
Devouring my consciousness and pumping my mind with bleak unclarified riddles, insufferable seminal propositions  

Revisiting vignettes so vivid as if they were in high definition Technicolor right before my eyes

The attraction, the pursuit that followed
Then the incomprehensible weaving of the souls

Suddenly the details of it all flooded into my brain
The fights
The lies
The unmitigated greed and narcissism caused by a chemical imbalance and a troubled past

So many reasons pointing me in the direction of which I came but I refused to yield and trudged on
As I rode the waves I became delirious, on a spree of self-induced affliction
Relocating my focused mind to a realm of contradicting confusion, being strangled by spontaneous bursts of uncertainty and rejection  
Until my boat started to sink
And all my fears and demons escaped
I didn't care if I died
I had no reason to live anymore, I wasn't afraid to meet the angel of death for an untimely yet causal powwow
The waves, monstrous and substantial
Hurling me back and forth
My hopes
My determination
My wall crumbled
The mythology of love had no merit to me any longer
The water was taking a toll on my organs until I ultimately blacked out

I remember being scraped against the bedrock of a lagoon
Coughing up blood, but realizing I was alive
Yet I felt dead ion the inside

And a figure came to me overhead
It was the girl with a flower in her hair who asked me if she existed
Her black hair shined in the sun as she pushed it back behind her ears
Her brown eyes full of wonder and honesty
Red lips teaming with sweet sounds behind them
I felt calm
I felt anxious
Anxious for I wasn’t expecting to see or come in contact with anyone

I didn’t need to do anything
But admit she was real

She knew who I was, what I had done and what happened to me

She ****** the girl who strung me along to cross the world
She told me to forget and move on and to learn from it and cultivate myself

This oracle, so benevolent
So graceful, I could not believe she was real
She wasn't a mild hallucination
She was as tangible as I

She taught me that

To look inside myself
To live for myself
“Come let’s cut ourselves open to see what we look like on the inside”
Seán Mac Falls Mar 2013
One percent Sun Kings,
Guillotine comeuppance fails,
  .  .  .  Too ******* subtle.
The Sun King of France ( ultimately beheaded ) enjoyed the doctrine of:

The divine right of kings, which was/is, is a political and religious doctrine of royal and political legitimacy. It asserts that a monarch is subject to no earthly authority, deriving the right to rule directly from the will of God. The king ( one percent rich ***** ) are thus not subject to the will of his people, the aristocracy, or any other estate of the realm, including (in the view of some, especially in Protestant countries) the Church. According to this doctrine, only God can judge an unjust king ( **** *** ). The doctrine implies that any attempt to depose the king or to restrict his powers runs contrary to the will of God and may constitute a sacrilegious act.
Amitav Radiance Apr 2014
It was an uphill trek to the dilapidated fort
Reminiscent of the past glory and supremacy
A grandeur which cannot be replicated
The solid stone walls smoothed to perfection
Each stone sitting perfectly, filling the jigsaw puzzle
Taking a walk around, I come across some etched paintings
Wonder what story it narrates, or what secret it holds
I try to peer closely and see what resembles a princess
With all the swordsmen surrounding her
Maybe from the prying eyes of some obsessive suitor
Or is it that the princess was held captive by a rival?
The fort is testimonial to so many incidents
Which may have happened, clandestinely, inside its walls
It must have been attacked so many times
Also, it could have been taken over by force by the enemies
I enter the fort through its imposing entrance
The thick and heavy wooden doors, now ajar
Riveted with iron bolts, now rusted over time
The door must have been attacked and pounded with severe force
Weakened by the ravages of time and the aging wood
I enter the fort and is greeted by huge arches and a corridors
Surrounding the length and breadth of the fort
With so many chambers, that I lose count of them
Wonder, where the princess must have been kept in captivity
Or, may be kept safe from the obsessive lover, from the lower ranks
I weave my own intriguing story, unaware of the history
Once a secured monument of the glorious past
Now forlorn, it stands there in stupefying silence
With each passing day burying the cries, shrieks, laughter and conniving plots
Someday, the whole existence of this fort may be diminished to dust
For it is comeuppance of time, where, even the glorious and mighty are not spared

© Amitav (Radiance)
Big Virge Jul 2019
Why Do We Have MOUTHS ... ?
If We ... Cannot Talk ... !?!
  
While ...
Those Who Should ... SHUT IT .... !!!!!
Are Building ... A FORT ...
  
A FORT of ... AGGRESSION ...
That's Simply ... Upsetting ... !!!
  
FREEDOM of Thought ...
and Simple ... EXPRESSION ... ?!?
  
Good Old ... Mr. Clarke ...
Has Made A ... Suggestion ...
  
Say The ... WRONG THING ...
and He'll Start The PROCESSION ...
To ... Heathrow Airport ... !!!!!
  
If Something ... You've Thought ...
INCITES .... TERRORIST Sorts ... !!!!!
  
It's STRAIGHT On A Plane ...
NO Judgement ... In Court ... ?!?
  
This IS ...  
An ... Infringement ...
On God's Greatest Blessing ...  
The Gift of EXPRESSION ... !!!!!!!
  
And .......
One's Right To ... Question ...
  
INCITEMENT .....
He CLAIMS ....
  
Can Be ... " Indirect " ...
and This is ... Because of ...
  
... TERRORIST Sects ... !!!!!
  
But The ... " BNP " ...
Has Done This For YEARS ... !?!
  
But Black Peoples FEARS ...
Just Fell On ... "Deaf Ears" ... !!!!!!
  
That's Why ... Neville Lawrence ...
Has Shed ... MANY TEARS ... !!!!!!!!!!!!!!
  
Something You ... SAY ...
Can Make A Man ... SWAY ...

To Do The ... WRONG Thing ...
Like .... London Bombing ..... !!!!!
  
So ...
WHY Do THEY Say ...
  
The Things That THEY DO ... ?!?
  
Are THEY ABOVE ... Judgement ... ?!?
  
I'll Leave That ... To You ...  
  
It's OKAY ... For HIM ...  
To ... AIR His Own Views ...
On Subjects Like ... TERROR ...
  
But Where Is ... ???
  
... HIS PROOF ... !?!
  
Of Course ...
Let Me ............. " Guess " ... ???
  
Look At ...
London's Tube ... !!!
  
But ...
WHY Would They Bomb ...
The ... INNOCENT Few ... ?!?
  
It's SAD ...
YES ... I Know ...
These Deaths Are A Blow ... !!!
  
But This Is A Time ...
To Let People ... SHOW ...
  
The Things ON THEIR MIND ...
BEFORE ... RocKInG The Boat ... !!!
  
The Boat's Been ... uNSTeAdY ...
Since The ... " Dawn of Time " .................................................................­..........
  
So .....
Why Is It ... NOW ... ?
We May Have To ... " Sign " ...  
  
Instead of ... EXPRESSING ...
A Viewpoint ... In RHYME ...
  
What's He AFRAID of ... ?!?
  
INSIGHT For ... "weak minds" ...  
  
I Guess It's Because ... ?
Just Like The ... SUNSHINE ...
It's Something That ... "creeps" ...
THROUGH ... " IKEA Blinds " ... !!!!!
  
See ...
Rhymes I ... " Design " ...
Give SIGHT To ... " The Blind ......................................
  
WITHOUT ...
Ever ... PREACHING ... !!!
  
What's Wrong or What's Right ...
  
My Hand's ... Want To Write ...
NOT ... Get In Fist Fights ... !!!
  
Or ... INCITE A Brother To ...  
Make A ... DEVICE ... !!!!!
That KILLS Those Around ME ... !?!
  
Or THOSE ...
I DON'T ... Like ... !!!
  
They'll Get Their COMEUPPANCE ... !!!
When It Is ... THEIR TIME ... !!!!!
  
But ...
When You ... DENY US ...
The Rights ... "YOU POSSESS" ...
  
You Shouldn't COMPLAIN ... !!!
When People ... DISTRESS ...
The Lifestyle ... YOU LEAD ...
With ... TERROR Type Deeds ...  
  
It Seems ... THE EMPIRE ...
IS ....................................... STRIKING BACK ... !!!!!
  
But Check Out ...  
... The Movie ...
  
You'll SUFFER ...  
  
.... ATTACKS .... !!!!!!
  
cos' Some ... WILL NOT Take ...
YOUR ... "LIE FILLED Attacks" ... !!!
  
ESPECIALLY When ...

They ...
DON'T KNOW ... " The Facts " ....
  
But YOU ... Mr. Clarke ...
MUST THINK You're A ... " GOD " ... !?!
To ... KEEP ON Suggesting ...
  
"It's THAT Muslim Lot !"
  
What About ... " FAWKES " ... ?!?
  
REMEMBER ...
THAT ... " Plot " ... ?!?
  
Oh ...
HE WAS ... " A Muslim " ... !!!
  
Of Course ... I FORGOT ... !!!?!!!
  
I Want To ... EXPRESS ...
I Want To Feel ... BLESSED ...
  
So ...
TELL The ... " Police " ...
I'm NOT A ... " Suspect " ... !!!!!
  
That JUST ... ISN'T Me ... !!!!!
  
Your Judgements Are ... "weak" ... !!!
The Judgements You're Making ...
Are ...................
  
IN NEED of ......... " Sleep " ......... !!!
  
NOT Just ... For Now ...
But ..... ETERNITY ..... !!!!!!!
  
Just Like The Way ......
You're USING ... Police ...
To Do ... What They WANT ...
To ... People Like ... ME ... !!!!  
  
I Work ... EVERYDAY ...
While MP's Make HAY ...  
  
I'm SICK of ... The BILLS ...
I'm Having To PAY ... !!!!!!!
  
When ...
Travel ... IN TOWN ...
Is CLEARLY ... Unsafe ... !!!!!!!!!
  
We Pay ... SO MUCH TAX ... !!!!!!!
For YOU To ...................... " Sit back " ..................................
and TALK About .... BOMBS ....
  
But ...
Where Are ... YOUR FACTS ... ???
  
I'm NOT A ... School Teacher ...
I'm NOT HERE To ... " Teach " ... !!!
  
I'll Say It ... AGAIN ...
  
I RECITE ...
But DON'T ... Preach ... !!!
  
But ...

For My ... PROTECTION ...
I'll Make An ... EXCEPTION ... !!!
  
I'm PREACHING To ..... YOU .... !!!!!
  
It REALLY AIN'T Cool ...
To Start This ... PROCESSION ... !!!
  
cos' ...  "Social Depression" ...
Can Lead To ... AGGRESSION ...
  
And ......

That's What You'll Get ...  
  
If You ... "RESTRICT" ...
  
..... " Expression " .....
At the time, The Home Secretary, A certain Charles Clarke, was basically being ridiculous, as were the government and most people regarding the horrific events surrounding the bombing, so I figured i'd try to poetically write a letter of sorts to see why expression had become a target as well as Muslims.
Poetistician Nov 2019
In life, we will experience hardships. Its not a comeuppance. But it is life's way to makes us better; for us to admire and value everything. We will never understand the worth of something not until we strive hard to acquire it.


- FJ Pacaldo, 2019
#strivehard#worth#hardships
Amitav Radiance Sep 2014
The prophecy went unheard
The minuscule started playing colossus  
Hedonistic era prolonged the mayhem
Abhorrence spread its root deep
Uprooting them from the original existence
Feeding off the unnatural sources
Comeuppance awaited the inebriated beings
Mike Essig Feb 2016
Every poem a foundling. Ancestry uncertain. Cuckoo. Kidnapped.
Each line liberated from a huge, noisy foul. Taken not stolen.
Don't put all your words in one. Task it to be new.
Almost bought organic bananas yesterday like some kind of millionaire.
Some of the best times of my life have no photographic evidence.
I often wonder where my thoughts come from. Perhaps Uranus.
Date a girl with small hands.. Everything will look bigger next to them.
Get to the point. My medication is starting to wear off.....
Karaoke, because being an obnoxious drunk isn't embarrassing enough.
If I am the man of your dreams, my condolences. Stupid is.
It's all fun and fiction until you show up missing. Internet romance.
My thighs are looking awfully lonely without you between them.
You've spent an entire day creating the ultimate sheep pun,
but have you ever considered the ramifications? Disordered thoughts.
Die a quick and painless death: the new American Dream. Lonely kills.
All I need is just a little cherishing. Comeuppance. Cherish is the word.
Listen, karma is the *****. I am simply her occasional instrument.
Meaning becomes data becomes information becomes content becomes meaningless.
Writer creates order. Otherwise only words in a row. Whole more than parts.
Big bird tweets often. Means nothing. Vacancy. Disappear into void.
Shout out the words you don't understand. Leave them to the poet's hand.

  ~mce
andy fardell Feb 2011
The day creeps nearer
the date is calling
my heart still beats a beats thats fallin
time to find the truth no dare
time to live a life ..no beer

ten days so long yet even closer
to find my fate ..win or looser
no job ,no cash ,no way of knowing
fates new blow ..stay ..or going

I know that folk will laugh and fear
once my comeuppance for all those years
so time to duck and dive some more
time to fight them from the doors

being down but still not out
I'll fight that fight and beat them all
staying stong and living on
thats the plan ..what could go wrong ?
david mungoshi Mar 2016
when i was young
i had so much time
time to play the fool
and time to be so cool
when i was young
i could well afford
a few misses along the way
time was on my side
and comeuppance was new terrain
when i was young
i knew everything about anything
and the world was young like me
Awareness about behavior,
present since mine days of yore
an unswerving allie analogous
to peacekeeper ending civil war
belated insight suddenly realized

(better late than never) doth underscore
incumbent proactive communication stance
belatedly bestowed omnipotent awareness
crucial fostering ingredient to shore
maternal bond above

bejesus ear splitting roar
I admit regret (to self), there
dost belie suppressed yen to pour
out sorrows 'twixt this sole him son,
and long deceased mother, he

deprived her his love and outwore
the Scottish tartan Harris tweed
welcome (haz) mat, which pained
materialized soon after her death, nor
can compensation be made,

now ex post facto,
when futility of spilt tears got more
gauged and swept away, when
nary a trace I privately cried
amidst lachrymose lakeshore.

20/20 hindsight brought me unflagging mast
into stark painful focus,
essentially how mine
formative behavior wrought avast

dystopian emotional fractured mindscape,
which non positive coping methods
lit fuse kindling devastating catastrophic blast
from yesteryear to present silent woebegone
desolate gloomy terrain past

grandeur eclipsed by present gloom
finds yours truly stranded like cast
away bleached flotsam upon coast
amidst tempestuous rocky shoals
clinging for dear life with grasp fast,

Where tenuous, precarious,
and ludicrous ship
of state can no longer maintain
even a marginal grip
but with slight equip

age willing, wedding,
and wanting brings relief from whip
lashed incurred (within body) showing rip
pulled scarred taut welts testimony, sans
long electrified with aggravation,

excruciation, and intoleration can easily flip
a figurative switch in summary
ushering final lip
service to charade,
facade, and masquerade

at lightspeed didst clip
this...Potemkin Village,
where everything "FAKE,"
asper envisioning flickr
ring mirage recounting ancient Egypt!

— The End —