"conceptuality" poems
I am a criminal,
A low down ***** convict,
Robbing old ladies and turning the youth into like minded thugs and killers.
With my gun, I can turn any day into new years eve.
Bang! Pow!
I've just shown you how,
I ***** somebody's light out.
I live by the gun
Ready to pull it out and start blasting away,
And if you're in the way?
I hope you've had an eventful final day.
One more body to my death toll is of little consequence.
And to those who choose to cross me
will be dealt with in a premeditated sequence.
So many women I've widowed,
So many children I've left with only half a family.
Do I care?
No.
For my heart is as black as my skin
I have no feelings of remorse or empathy.
Or do I?
Am I really this despicable person?
Is what I've just said is not me at all,
Or just what people perceive me to be.
The truth is, that's all it is
A perception
A perverted perception forced upon me and others like me by illogical stereotypes,
A perverted perception perpetuated to the the point where it has become the status quo,
A belief so deeply ingrained in the minds of the masses that I become public enemy number one, two and three,
so deeply ingrained that I should not know what it means to be free,
so deeply ingrained that I should not even be given the change to better myself.
Does this perception out rank reality?
Does conceptuality govern the actuality of reality?
If so, I perceive this world to be full of ****
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 5:37 AM UTC
Soul, trascendental tether to infinity
Voice of instincts & individuality
Ever will I endeaver to reflect this inner self in my personality
Allow this abstract apparition to cast its ambitions through my identity
We all begin with the same block of stone, family carving away deliberately, often in fits of spontaneity
Every person we touch takes a piece away and impacts our reality.
Now we're old enough to carve our souls into actuality
Its been within me since my infancy still I struggle to perpetuate its conceptuality
On occasions when I can summon its voice to my lips its gone just as quickly & I mourn for the brevity
All I'm left with in my renderings is a fragile, frugal effigy -how could a mortal hope to attain the likeness of divinity?
Mar 1, 2018
Mar 1, 2018 at 5:18 PM UTC
Contempt this freedom,
Need enslavery for security;
Feel apathy, regret, hopelessness;
Path of continuity - too easy, too often.
Provoke temptress's scorn
Mislead the misadventure
Furtive undermining conscious
Tripped out and over-bored
Neglectfully narcissistic, never satiated.
---------
I don't want to be a poet,
Intellectually engaged with conceptuality;
I want to be popular,
Adored for simplistic, concise axioms -
Connective understatements stated plainly.
On second thoughts...now I realise...
I don't want to be popular - I want to be an advertiser!
---------
Comrade, yours is the sweetest victory:
Ruled the collection, dispersed, then died.
Never to know the scorn foreshadowed;
Realising no fulfilment, save vengeance
Of victims truncated and tortured raw;
Hollowed abomination, human condemnation.
---------
What am I saying?
To whom?
Of whom?
Since when?
Why now?
For what?
How come?
Where from?
[Who's who, who knows whom!?]
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC