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Jarel Allen Mar 2015
Have you ever dreamt of what's it's like to wake up knowing you left others to live their lives as your soul ventures on it's new journey, after death, but before Christ you will bend hand and knee letting Him know you believe and hope that you will fit through the narrow pathway into the gates of heaven not quite sure of what it will be, but sure enough of it being pure greatness. And in a split of a second all of your lifetime memories replay inside of your mind causing a neurological explosion of nostalgia to release and you remember...remember those you love living in the moment and feeling the pain of sorrow

Can you prove to me that it isn't a struggle to tell a young black boy that he will never experience the physical presence of his mother, because she was taken away from him when he was just a baby. A baby, who will grow and wonder why none of the familiar faces is the one he is in search for. A child, who will never have the benefit of being a mamas boy. A young man, victim of defaulted abandonment issues. Just another precious black son, who will be challenged as another statistic because he was deprived of the greatest love one can ever receive.

A mothers love is one of the greatest love there is, but a black mothers love is even more powerful. Because a black mothers love is built on back aches from working all day long to feed her children dinner ever night. Foundation so strong, Hercules himself would break a sweat. A black mothers love is shaped by the predetermined deck of cards she was dealt as a person of color ever since the beginning. Misused and hardly understood. Her worth, a beautiful black queen so devine, it shall endure until the end of time.

And still I ponder!

How can you tell a mother holding her newborn child that before she sees her last day, her sons body will leave this earth before her own? Giving her the knowledge that will cause hurricanes to reach shore. Changing her life for the worst, because she must raise a boy who may not make it into being a man, but he will always be a mamas boy. And she will do her ****** best to make sure his life was worthwhile and had meaning. Impacting more then just herself, but the world around.

I tell you, there is not a pain greater than a mother laying her son to rest, because  his days are ceased before her own. It's non-traditional, a bit unorthodox but is slowly making its way into a norm as the number of young black lives lost rises. Im just tired of seeing the numbers of my people drop slowly but surely  

So, still I ask when are black lives going to matter? How many more lives have to be stolen from us until we say enough is enough? How many more lives have to be stolen until we teach our young ones to love their skin, and every little thing that makes them them. Teach them, that black is beautiful and always has been. Maybe then we will find peace, And if not we will die trying.
Elemenohp Nov 2015
This is the reality in which we live;
In such a messed up world
Where lives are nothing but points to give.

Where is the word of the common man?
Spreading misinformation hand and hand.

Help! Said he, a refugee
Save me from demise.

Save us all, from our land of lies,
For in the west we have it all,
But no one sees, as the world does fall.

I beckon for us to call a truce,
To help out those in dire need -
But to help won't satiate our greed.

We would rather watch a brother bleed,
Than share with another, our own feed.

Help us all, for we are ******.
Throughout history
in a Diasporic condition
and through the pagan
goes
another Jew sacrificed to the flesh
the World
and the devil.

Not in hiding
but seeking
redemption;
the purge--
only comes
after death.

For the next generations renewal?
Woe unto those limits of human freedom.

Let those seeking salvation convert; or let God present a sacrifice completely consumed by fire: burnt offering.

While Jesus suffered still...
those elected to **** Christ; as Judas was also chosen.

Compelled to sin,
by obligation,
on the cross of the Baphomet.

Where flesh is offered
as sacrifice
to that lord satan,
guiding them,
to hell on earth.

While having you hope
for Rapture.
As the Jew takes the place of the Church and Christian.

I reach for the Cross
aiming for the heart of the vampire
and brain of the zombie -- pogromed of glory.

Have your way upon the World especially ******.

© S. Wesley Mcgranor
{Note: I am not advocating for the Eastern Orthodox but do suggest conversion i.e. the Fulfilled Jew. Although Protestantism is in shambles due to such among other issues; although this being the greater gain. Also such a religious observance and professed guilt has prohibited Catholics -- the Jews historical bed partner from ever disguising themselves as Christian again (A Roman Catholic is allowed no fundamentalism but secular Judaism). So many Protestants after the destruction of our institutions and societies have succumbed to joining the Eastern (or Oriental) Orthodox as a lesser of two evils. And as this video suggests the Orthodox are seemingly free from the ailments that others suffer. Never-the-less this temptation should not ******, as we need to get our own house in order. And remember the Reformation ended any light within the Orthodox as well. It is my understanding that the Orthodox are an underling of Roman Catholicism. We Protestants (both Mainline and Evangelical) have killed ourselves as God awaits atonement for our transgressions against him. The Jew, in an older but now no longer giving attention theology, asked why God would allow such; and came to the conclusion that it was punishment (wrath). Now it is generally understood in a Christian context as a pagan resentment. And in a Jewish context as evil from goyim.}

http://youtu.be/QA4BcUhEYP8
Pho May 2015
On that night
That rainy fateful night
With just one rope
And a chair
She left it all behind

Some would think her choice pathetic
Cowardly even
But she couldn't take it anymore
The whispering glares
The accusing fingers

She was only human
She'd made mistakes
And she'd carried that mistake around for 8 months
8 painful long months
Until it came early

That was what pushed her to the edge
The one thing she thought could make her happy
Gone, just like that
A still-born
That was that

No way to bring her baby back
Yes, the baby was a mistake
Yes, it was unplanned
But she'd promise to love it
Even if she was ******

She wanted the child to grow up in a loving-home
Something that she'd never known
A home where they'd be nurtured
Promises would be kept
But most of all love

Love would spread through the house and home
Keeping them safe
But that child was gone
And so was she
Gone, for all eternity
RCraig David Apr 2013
Whining dog...we just went outside.
Wading through internet DATs and cogs and bandwidth hogs, outside still raining cats and dogs.
double-click trawling pics and blogs searching for remedies and laws that inhibit logs to saw.
Wide-eyed, face down I sprawl still awake, redefining  my character flaws,
fearing my falling into the trappings of urban sprawl or
investing your mind then hitting the wall.
Lose or draw,
a new artistic affair or creative outlet dares you daily to fall.
"Late" is now "Early"
Dawn's illuminating looming, night to be soon consumed.
Insomnia vacuums,
drama typhoons,
crooning tunes....
It'll be June soon.
Feeling marooned waiting for the opportune...well, I'm still waiting,
Whining dog...we just went outside...Fine!
Rain drains backlogged in the AM black...****** dog. Decide! He takes his time.
Three nights of showers,
cowering under this street corner lighted power tower,
unrequited efforts to stay dry.
Moon still high, clouded bright behind the wetness...
Wait, what if I see "her"?
Should I dare bare my soul, take control, or say simply "Hello?" just to know?
Do I want to know "yes" or "no"?
Grandmother always said "The truth is the most powerful force you'll ever face, trace, disgrace or embrace"
I remember my last pursuance of the truth.
You remember college...
The ubiquitous responsibility of apologies for the skewed knowledge sleuth colleges preclude.
A four, no five year matterless smattering reviewing the hows, whys and whos who of Impressionist imbued hues;
the politics of subdued Katmandu coups,
Homer's muses; many a Siren sank the boats I crewed;
news crews that flew the bird flu news coop and recouped,
skewed suing over Golden Arch morning brew,
tragedies, sonnets, and nothing adieus,
spewed formulas and equations notecard ques,
standing in long line registration cues every time we change Major views,
all fueled by a boozing, smokey ballyhoo of Tullamore Dew, hopped brews, tattoos, crude food, music muses and quoted virtues.
What’s even true and what would you do if you knew, ****** logic class…
And alas, you're through! “Here’s your paper, now choose.”
The ****** inequity of iniquity dams me so I can't break free.
Such an abrupt disruption could erupt great corruption,
the self-destruction is tempting, but doesn't pay rent.
Not today, but maybe soon.
June's coming...dryer and higher noon.

R.Craig David- copyright 2008
Redux Edition April 1st, 2013
Inspired by rain, blame shame, the game and a cute girl just 3 doors down that still remains a stranger in my old college town.
mrmonst3r Dec 2016
I can't explain
My foolish intrigue
Your words are
Kisses stitched into skin.
You leave me
Branded,
Waiting to be known.
****** but not forgotten.
I lose each waking dream
Only to begin anew —
Loveless. Irrational.
Would you want
a hapless man
Who
wandered from the path?
Can you
understand the pain
that forces me to laugh?
I want to belong
In your smokey realms
Conjured at your fingertips
Reckless inbetween
your thighs.
He says this is the last drink

The very last bottle he will drain

For now, all he wants is to think

While he has senses that still remain



But tomorrow will just bring another day

Where a lonely life will cause only pain

Only one thing can ever take the sorrow away

He will turn to the ****** bottle once again



He has lost it all, lost his very will

He is cursed by the demon drink to follow

He just picks a bottle up to once more swill

He just puts it to his lips and ready to swallow



His life seems to be one long  horror show

He  ends up being in another drunken daze

He can never stop while the urges continue to grow

He is always trapped in his very own alcohol craze



His wife and family left him so very long ago

But he never looks to find anyones' pity

For this is the life he has come to know

One more lost alcoholic, lost in the city





copyright Chris Smith 2004
200,000
200 K
200 thou
Reads as of today

I wrote of Orion
And silly sleigh rides
Wrote about hometowns
And passionate nights

****** damnable wars
And narcissistic politicians
Wrote sorrowful elegies
Extolled the human condition

Offered odes to loved ones
And critiqued the powerful
Celebrated the splendor of nature
And children most wonderful

Honked loud about jazz
And hot improvisation
Poked fun at the MoMA
Held deep blue introspection

We got many more reads
Than actual likes
I’m growing concerned
That I have more dislikes

But here is one more
Silly trite poem
I hope you like it
You can read it at home

Thanks for all your support….

Simon and Garfunkel
Poem on the Underground Wall

Love Mac…..
Oakland
5/23/16
nicolas tefo Oct 2013
Jealousy is the fool
That has God running around
Thinking He can get better than me
He is giving him the wrong advice.
Because at the end of the day
He finds out he has to start again.
Is he playing god for a fool?
If he is what price will his sin demand?
Will his redemption be established?

He is green with envy for us
Humans.
He is the mark of imperfection
That has blinded eyes divine
He creeps up on him pure n innocent
Tempts him to *******
Leaving a stain that taints his purity.

Jealousy you are full of zeal
You fool!
You have drank too much wine
You’re high on your own supply
You blind the gods and tempt fate
You roam the earth with empty threats.
I loathe you name.

I heard you ruined something beautiful
You came between them.
It’s no surprise.
You have a nature that is irredeemable.
Untainted blood cannot help you
Your soul cannot be saved.
You are ****** to eternal infinity.

The day you roamed earth
And beheld the sons of men
Your envy got the best of you.
You wickedness has tempered with your heart
Darkened is you soul indeed
I hope you rot in hell
If anyone deserves to die it’s you.

My mistake: I have honored you
For this I loathe myself.
I have put you on my lips,
It’s almost like a kiss.
But like Judas did Christ see I betray you.
And for this I hope they crucify you
You *******, cursed is the day you were made.

How can some claim you have affiliations with love?
You have no soul.
There is no way that you could ever be that real.
There wrong or they have simply been perverted
With the infectious virus of you
So they believe your nonsense and eat your garbage.

I hope on judgement day
You’re first in line
You don’t deserve your day in court you *****.
You should be condemned with no witnesses
You killed a generation.
You silenced dreams, and lives you've taken, mercilessly
You don’t deserve justice.
Crucify him.
spontaneously i wrote this, just after doing a study on the word and concept of jealousy. by the way i dont usually swear, just for this theme though, i had to make an exception.
Gripping onto my life
Like razor blades across finger tips
Which bleed onto blank paper
The pain whips hard, frenzied

So, once gain, the bottle beckons
Swallowing the rawness of whiskey
Harshly burning my throat
Looking for drunkard, obscure haze

Cursing the scars on this bitter face
A wasted and worthless life
Surrounded by unwanted wealth
What is money but another curse?

The darkening rage suddenly takes me
An anger like some twisted hurricane
My name, blistered on these lips
I am, forever ******, Byron Lorde
Copyright 2015
grey grey grey Mar 2017
for what the crowd wants*

Screams and delighted cheers
bounce against the stadium walls, tall, strong, and fierce
roared by ten thousand strong knowing no fears
all against the man in chains, drowning in tears

Been weighed, been measured, been found wanting
the fiery men standing with their fists pumping
while the beaten one stays still, silently praying
waiting for the justice he knows is never coming
Tawanda Mulalu Nov 2014
Listen...

at least...

at...

the end of the day...

I learnt this:


I'm the type of person who

can have everything he wants in the world,
everything (yes, you)

But will jump to give it all up
in one second,
one ****** second,

all for the sake of adventure.


Take that as you wish.
Well hello to you, hello there,
You might think I'm a bad guy;
Just because I **** a few people,
But you don't see this Jokers' heart.

Okay, that guy who dresses as a rodent!
Everyone seems to take his side.
Come on! A man dressed as a flying rat?
Do you think that man is still sane?

I'm not the crazy one, oh no!, believe me.
Don't let this pasty white skin and ruby lips fool you.
I'm the innocent guy here, I never wanted to look like this.
That Bat freak!, he created me, It's all his fault!

Thank you for agreeing to my interview, my side of things.
I only want to make people laugh, let's shake hands to that.
Oh deary me, I'm wearing that killer of a joy buzzer,
I bet you just die with laughter, it is a hell of a shock.

Oh well boys, you better clear up the mess, alas! poor reporter.
I didn't get to know him well, time to think of a few jokes.
I wonder what fun and games I can cause in Gotham City tonight.
As long as that ****** Bat Man doesn't stop me! ha ha ha ha ha.
copyright Chris Smith.
Michael Bauer May 2016
Almost died
Died and came back
Walked through personal hell
Still chained to the futon in daddy's dungeon
Going through the motions
In daddy's shop, oh well
Hell is not so bad
Buy another coconut water
From the 7/11 with the ****** address
6660 Sunset Boulevard
Los Angeles, California
Too many fallen angels
Countless others invisible
Flying around between us
You've seen stories like this before

The chained up son remains
Akira Chinen Jun 2017
In the mountains along the paths
of forgotten time hangs the moon
of lunatics
where dance the heretics
of forbidden lust
to the song of eternal love
and truth does spill from rivers red
into bleeding seas
where stars do swim beyond the reach
of modern men of rot and decay
who slave away under pretense
of virtue and sanity
grinding their bones between the gears
of profit
made for war disposable innocence
crack the skull
cage the heart
poison the soul
for a free mind
a wild heart
a living soul
is a danger to the democracy
of this free world we live in
so I say
let the rivers run red with the blood of
presidents and politics
and law makers in expensive three piece suits
and if we are to be ****** and doomed
and force feed death
let it be for dancing with the heretics
along the paths of forgotten time
in the mountains where our corpses will sway
in the winds of truth and love
as we a hang
from the moon of lunatics
Dan Hess Jul 2019
“Laughter begets laughter! Sin begets sin!” said the voices which echoed pervasively in the mind of the guardian of the gate of the tower of the wall of the town of the city of Evanshire.

In response to this, he said aloud “Then what would herald a minor flaw to be chosen as beautiful, indeed?”

Beauty is often found within a transient burst of light which turns itself over the surrounding darkness only moments after. Its superseding ancestry is lost to the environment; however, this is not the case with most things delightfully brought on by human empowerment. Humans, being such compulsive creatures, strive for nothing less than perpetuation of order in all things, and beauty be ****** if that means changing a systematic response to something more naturally, intrinsically made to fetter in the palm of the last vestibule of temporal illusion.

Some see the animals which deem themselves superior as parasite; feeding off the presence of life and ore around their very bodies. Unbridled power given to the bearer of serendipity, humanity turns their noses up as if it were anything of their own control. Disgust is what should be shown toward such foul, obscene little things.
    
The man laughed out at the ridiculous rantings put forth by his narrator.

“Is that what you think,” he said “that we’re all just ****? Well maybe you’re right, but this world is **** impressive. Sure more than I’m deserving of.”

Just as that was said, an owl hooted somewhere in the distance. Its hoot was perceived by the guardian, but his perception was fallacious. He heard a fibrous, alien-like sound. So deeply disturbed by this was the man-guard that he fell back in his chair and lay wrought on the ground for several hours. It was not until he was awakened, by himself no less, that he took himself to try his hand at movement once more. He gently flexed, starting at the tips of his fingers and leading up to his first forearm, before he exhausted all his chakra and mustn’t have had any need to persist, for he was already standing there where he had found himself lying on the floor.

“Are you okay?” he asked himself, before realizing he was talking to a ghost and hadn’t been lying on the floor for a bit at all.

The moon had begun to set and was large and glistening in the oblique sky; its blue tint reverberated the light over the countryside, and questioned the very existence of everything excluding the reasoning behind it. However, this need not be mentioned and would be better to leave for another rant of time and loss.
A crow perched itself on the stone windowsill, which had been chipped slightly on the right edge leaving exposed brick and mortar. Just beneath the arc of the sandstone window was the nest, and the crow held in its beak a few worms which appeared to be dead. One could assume the crows effervescent green eyes were a result of secular radiation and shouldn’t be concerned or associated with the fermentation of grapes, but the guard, who is the same as the narrator and the voice in his head, knew better than to act like such a fool and knew the likes of objectivity to be a falsification of the throne. He promptly removed the eyes of the crow as to stomp on them and make a fine wine.

Alas, no gain came of this. When the captain’s right hand came wandering into the tower’s top room and found the guard, the narrator, and the spectre sit in the armchair whilst laying on the floor, holding the eyes of a crow in one hand and the soul of hearthfire in the other, he lurched out his guts and asked whether the weather outside was weather or whether it weren’t.

“What’s that?” asked the guard, before noticing the cap’n’s right hand had entered.

Upon doing so, he took the rest of the crow, eviscerated it, and made it into a finger puppet. 

“You know how the fooligan do. Look at all the fooligan, perched atop the hillside. Laughing and drinking, and clinging their rosy glasses. The sun casts a plastic glow across their cheeks. And as they smile, it seems so real. Ah, yes, the fooligan.”
This is old lol
Cerasium Jan 2021
In the darkest pits of my soul
I know what I want will never be
But every time I see your face
I can’t but hope it to be

I continue to hope
That the more time we spend
The stronger your love for me will become
But that’s not the case is it

I’m ****** to live like this
Eternally wanting you by my side
While you urn for another
And are blind to the love you get

I’m stuck in time
Begging for you by my side
To return to what we once had
To what was ripped away before our eyes

It doesn’t matter what I do
All you see is your love for them
I would do anything you tell me to
With a second thought or glance

What must I do to get you to see
The one who loves you is in front of you
The one who would give up everything
Just to be with you

But I now know that will never be
You love her and never me
My love is nothing but misery
And soon will be the end of me
Ken Pepiton Nov 2018
Suddenly, twelve poems flavored Christmassy came to me to give away for the fun of it, the hello of it, I may say, corn, that's okeh.

Thursday, November 01, 2018
1:14 PM

So what?

that justifies, just ifs this olde dude from the desert,

into real-ification in 2018 Christmas forever story,

Wow. Who knew? Little drummer boy, remember?

What can I bring to him? Who even mentioned
us giving? Honest, what could you give

Christ, the anointed, promised, messiah, message
******* up to be angel choirs in heaven's spotlight,

good news, aka the gospel or spell, which is no unintended
causality, BTW. be tee dub, we say.

the good news, the scary angels sayed, that not too cold

night to be out and about with the little lambs, that time
o'year, good tax collectin' time,

celebrate that. Taxmass. Okeh.

This is a Christmas story of the sort that can twist things other wise twisted to be untwisted in this peculiar way.

Wicked is as wicks are wont to be, twisted wit' a bit
o'this
the ****** things all explode. Abit o'that, they light a candle in the thinn-ist-light-o-night,

And, when the battle's over,
"IT IS FINISHED" has been muttered,

we won. That's done. Merry Christmas,
God rest ye, merry, gentle men,

twixt the trenches, 2018.
Jah, twelve days of Christmas, twelve poems, to me it feels like Christmas, opening well bought, hard sought gifts from unexpected realms of reality. You get what I'm sayin?
Waldo Jun 2017
The sweet taste of self destruction,
Makes it hard for one to function.
The goal is self evolution
To escape these corrupt institutions.
But what's the solution
Under our eroding constitution?
So much **** confusion.
So many twisted conclusions
Reaffirmed by my delusions.

Pain, pain please go away.
Anguish seems to always stay
Under sunny sky's, on clouded days,
A slave to my pessimistic ways.
Darkness seeps from my fingertips
As the continents drift
And the magnetic poles shift.

Melatonin brings sleepiness
And dreams so hauntingly devious.
Thoughts so painfully tedious,
Even the devil could not conceive of this.
They demand thoughtless obedience,
A single consciousness of greediness,
And anxiety ridden uneasiness.

Mushroom clouds of sorrow,
The bleakness of tomorrow.
Reasons to let the blood flow
To rest six feet below.
There's no peace to be found here
Just cold stares, judgement, and sneers.  
Take me where the maggots eat at flesh
Where dirt and corpses mesh.

I think we're all god ****** insane
Because God ****** us with pain.
With self-hatred flowing through our veins.  
They say Hell is a physical place,
Where evil souls are laid to waste.
So why do we all get a taste
Before our existence is erased?
Because Hell is in the mind
Hell is in the heart
Hell is all you'll find
In a world so dark.
Ryan Walker Feb 2012
She dances across the room
Her soul no less than floating
Balancé, balancé, run run, fly

Air is her love, her home, her castle
She left her chains to the ground when
God gave her wings and she complied

Birds be ******
She's lighter than clouds
And needs no sky
Jayanta Mar 2015
Now deadline entrapped!
Deadline to safe life
Deadline to take food
Deadline to drink water
Deadline to  breathe air!
Now dead line entrapped!
Deadline to recharge vitality
Deadline to recharge vanity
Deadline to recharge - cover-up felony!
Now deadline entrapped!  
Deadline to makeover
Deadline to sprawl
Deadline to crawl
Deadline to growl
Deadline to  haul!
Now deadline entrapped!
Deadline to  behold toxicity
Deadline to amuse atrocity
Deadline to submit buoyancy
Deadline to ****** and welcome grief I
It is the deadline for post modern reformation!
Big Virge Sep 2020
Ya Know....
I Hear A LOT OF NOISE...
From... IGNORANT BOYS... !!!

About Their Toys...
And ALL Their Ploys...

That Make Them THIS... !!!
And Make Them... THAT... !!!

In Fact Some TALK...
So God ****** MUCH... !!!!!
About IGNORANT Stuff...
That I Wish They'd SHUT...
Their... NOISY Gums... !!!

Before I Cause....
A War That LORDS...
Are FORCED To Pay For.... !!!!!

But When I ABSORB...
Much DEEPER Thoughts...

I Choose To Show POISE...
Around Boys Who ANNOY... !!!
And... Girlies TOO... !!!!

Who Make A LOT OF NOISE...
When They're FULL of Youth... !!!!

As If Their... LOOKS...
Will KEEP Man Hooked... ?!?

Even When Their Pretty ***...
... Can't Even COOK... ?!?

I... Hear A LOT of NOISE...
From... Artists TOO... !!!!!!!!!

Who NEED To See That HUMILITY...
Is A... BETTER Place To Be....
Than Trying To Compete...
Every Time Man Speaks...
About... ARTISTRY... !!!

Because That's WEAK...
And PROVES That They NEED...
To... Continually FEED...
...... “ insecurities “...... !!!!

That CLEARLY Make NOISE... !!!
... " Inside Their Minds "... !!!

Because There Is A VOID.....
That They... Just CAN'T Find... ?!?

Where Noise Is Made...
That They NEED To Abate... !!!!!!
Until It's Time To Hit The Stage...

And PROVE To The World  ....
How GREAT They ARE... !!!

When It Comes To Words...
And HIGH QUALITY ART... !!!

It May Sound PERVERSE... !?!

But SILENCE Is A NOISE...
That... CLEARLY HURTS... !!!
And... CLEARLY ANNOYS... !!!!

Those Who... FEEL...
That They NEED To PROVE... !?!

How HARD They Are... !!!
How SMART They Are... !!!
How SHARP They Are... !!!

When They KEEP SHOWING Cards...
That They've Long Since MARKED... !!!!!

Because... SMART Card Sharks...
KNOW... When To MAKE NOISE...
And... When To Show POISE... !!!!!!!

Because.....

Winning ISN'T Everything... !!!
Making Noise Sometimes...
Just Proves IGNORANCE...
And A Need To Be RIGHT... !!!!!

When Being... “ WISE “...
Means You RECOGNISE...
That Noise Like PRIDE...
Are Things That We NEED TO...

Let..... Subside............................ .........

Give Others Their Due... !!!
Even When You LOSE... !!!!!

And SILENCE Then....
Becomes Your FRIEND...

And WISDOM Becomes...
A Dominion And Kingdom...
Where Noise Is USED...
To... ELEVATE You...

To A Place Where FOOLS...
... CAN'T Try To ABUSE...

Or... CLAIM To BE...
Your Superior... SEE...
....... " HUMILITY ".......

Helps You To SEE...
Where It Is You Be...
In Our Human Breed... !!!

One Who LACKS Poise...
When Others ANNOY...
Because Their... “ Ploy “...
Is To Be The HARE...
To Your.... TORTOISE... !!!!

Well The Story SHOWS...
How... THAT Race Goes... !!!

It's Cool To Let FOOLS...
..... TRY TO ABUSE.....

When You KNOW YOUR WORTH...
... NO WORDS Can Hurt... !!!

When You Choose To OBSERVE...
LISTEN.... And Learn.... !!!

And Make The SMART Choice...

To Make... Less...

...... " Noise "......
Sometimes people should simply recognise, when to just keep quiet !
© Big Virge
Jedd Ong May 2014
A young Japanese boy
No older than 4
Fell behind his father,
Stumbling over the escalator leading
To our train.

First kid in a long time
To return my glance
With a wide-eyed grin.

He even stopped for a while,

Much unlike the ****** trains.
Wraithlike shadows swiftly crawled toward a miami public chess table, dark green ivy growing along the fading checkered table top. the shadows slithered onto one of the benches, swirling upwards until they formed the shape of a dark toned young man, dressed in a long black punk-style trench coat. he wore leather gloves adorned with old runes, as was his black shirt and bandana he wore to keep his white hair back. there were a few chrome necklaces around his neck, the largest being a pentagram on a heavy chain. he sighed and waved his right hand over the table, demonic chess peices appearing beneath his touch, each one crawling with miniature demons on a blackened spire. he closed his eyes impatiently and let his dark aura spread over the surrounding area. the ivy on the table withered and died instantly along with the flora and fauna within a half mile of him. his eyes glowed a deep red
and his teeth, all of them incisors, extended into fangs. he was startled by a light voice behind
Him, "Leon. this is not the time." leon turned his head swiftly and growled, his features softening as he saw that it was the man he wanted to see. "Luminae... on time as usual. hows life in the Upper?" luminae wore a bright white suit, resembling human armani. he sat down adjacent to leon and waved his own chess peices into existence, each an angelic being weilding swords. they turned to be too bright for leon's eyes and he donned his red-tinted, coffin shaped shades. as the plant life began to regrow, luminae replied, "same as usual... holy war everywhere. i'm only allowed to see you now under supervision of three others." as he said that, three more men stepped out along the paths, clothed much like Luminae. leon half grinned, half scowled at luminae. "the boss had similar orders." leon snnapped his fingers and a trio of demons appeared next to the white clad angels. swords appeared
in the angels hands, ready to potentially cut down their enemies, but luminae waved away their
Suspicions. leon also commanded his overseers to remain shadowed. "you start, luminae."
luminae waved a simple angelic pawn forward, saying, "shame you can't join me in the upper, brother. how's the Foothills?"
leon countered by moving his knight, a grim reaper on horseback, dripping blood on the board, "dark... fiery... what else do you expect from hell?" he wore a deep scowl on his face as he said It, emphasizing the last word. "not a bit of sustenance as far as the eye can see.." luminae had seen through the disguise already, seeing that leon was little more than a charred, demonic skeleton, the fake-flesh creating what used to be the leon that they had known in their earlier lives.
as the chess pieces fell, they either burned or were saved by the opposing side. it came down to their final peices being kings and a single bishop on each side. luminae paused a moment, "you've gotten better at chess."
leon looked away, "its not chess... its a warning.. we are the bishops, luminae."
Luminae looked at leon, eyes narrowed to slits. "what do you mean, leon?"
leon sighed and waved a hand over the board, the peices disintigrating and forming a black scroll with bright red lettering. luminae dared not touch it, but read it, a look of shocked horror creeping across his face.
leon continued, "brother, boss wants me to **** you. you know what happens if we die again.." luminae nodded and waved the peices back into existance, seeing the Holy one as his king, and the ****** one as leon's. he looked at the bishops and saw in detail both of them, superimposed onto the peices.
"how long do i have to prepare, brother?" luminae gripped the hilt of his sword.
leon stood, "its already begun..." out of nowhere, tendrils of darkness wrapped around leon's arm and formed a jagged sword. the fake-flesh had begun burning away, leaving leon's true form, sinister and horrifying, shining black before luminae. empty eye sockets gazed at luminae and a hollow moaning shook the new-grown trees.
"goodbye, luminae." leon began to sink into the ground, falling into the Foothills. luminae watched as leon's guardians transformed into cackling ghouls and were released to wreak havoc on the world. luminae snapped his fingers at his own guardians, who followed the ghouls and destroyed them. "goodbye, brother..." luminae looked back at the four chess peices remaining on the board. he walked over and picked up the demon bishop, now safe to touch, depositing it in his pocket after clutching it tightly against his chest. as he touched it, he felt leon's sorrow, regret and anger. he felt little pity on him, though they had been like brothers in their pre-life, they were sworn enemies in the After. these chess games had been their only way to meet and relive a moment of their old life, granted by the High one and The ****** once every ten years under a neutral pact.
luminae also picked up his bishop and gave it a blessing, replacing it on the table for leon to retreive.
luminae sighed and
walked to the guardians. they all took a prayong stance and uttered a line of scripture, and then they were gone, leaving the park as it had been.
* *
Nero felt the intense flames licking at him from below as he descended. as he plunged deeper, the flames receded but the heat remained. when he finally touched the ground, he walked a winding path, past the ****** souls, each in their own private hell. nero scowled at them as he passed and stepped to a long sloping wall. he shook the gloves off his claws and drew a perfect pentagram into the side, opening a hidden tunnel system. he stepped forward and waved the door closed, then continued walking down the passage, the walls depicting numerous sins, ****, ******, deception, lust, and other such evils, all of which Nero had committed. he walked faster, to satan's chambers. the devil sat boredly on his seat, watching the same smokey images of his minions at work. "nero. welcome back to the foothills." the devils guardians set about beating nero until he could barely move. "you didnt ****
the angel, scaly *******. why?"
nero grunted and attempted to stand, "i wanted more of a challenge,
Thus i let him prepare."
the guardians let him stand. "interesting. but when you face him, you better have enough power to defeat him. i shall bestow upon you the power of ten thousand of my highest demons, do not come back empty handed, or each of their ****** souls will burn in your cursed chest."
the guardian closest to him and punched him in the spine, sending him to the floor. "un-understood... sir..."
a pentagram glowed on the floor around him, and he was bound to the spot. he felt a deep cold in him and then an intense burning as he was given the powers.
all according to plan...
*
luminae turned a corner on the golden street, the massive mansions towering over him. there was only one that he sought though, The Holy Ones' mansion, and his throne. he walked tentatively up the steps to the open gates, and stopped when he heard a commotion. he stopped and turned his head, seeing an angel, covered in runes, obviously a warrior as he had a fighter's vest and a sword in a
Scabbard. the angel had just jumped through a window and into a crowd of people, chased by a few Enforcer class angels. they locked eyes for a moment and luminae raised his hand, flashing first one finger then four. the one winged angel looked confused for a second and stood there in thought. luminae gestured towards the main gates, seeing the enforcers locate the one winged angel. the angel fled and luminae continued up the steps, hands in his pockets. *recruit number one...

* *
SabreLi Dec 2016
The first appeared to me in white, and I thought him pure of soul
Little did I know that night his spirit was black as coal
Conjuring many connotations, he seemed of pure intent
But his gift devoured nations as his plague would not relent
He spread like wildfire through the land, yet displaying no remorse
He paved the way for his brothers ******; each arrived in due course

A solemn warning that’s never heeded
Will breed nothing but despair
And no amount of promise or pleading
Will change what can’t be repaired

In red the second of the four needed no introduction
I knew at once that this was War, with havoc and destruction
He plied his trade while the world did bleed, and seeds of hate did sow
And ventured he upon his steed where no other man would go
For once the earth was fertilised from the spill of human veins
All the people he had terrorised succumbed to their own chains

A solemn warning that’s never heeded
Will breed nothing but despair
And no amount of promise or pleading
Will change what can’t be repaired

And scales in hand the third did spring with his mare dark as his heart
But far from justice he did bring; only famine did he start
And so just as midnight claims the sun he brought his starvation
To claim all good that was begun and reap his depravation
And even though his deed was done, spread far by his charcoal horse
All the suffering was far from gone; for horsemen come in fours

A solemn warning that’s never heeded
Will breed nothing but despair
And no amount of promise or pleading
Will change what can’t be repaired

And all too soon before me stood the fourth and final horseman
While there he stood with horse and hood spoke he to me his caution
Pale and pallid his horse and pallor; left a lot to be desired
Now invalid; vigour and valour; no longer are required
The Fates; their cloth length cut as due, they have measured mine alone
And now here He comes; Death right on cue, to claim me as his own

Copyright  ©2016-2017 KF
Is it just me, or does it feel like armageddon or the apocalypse? The world is suffering as we stand by and allow our selfishness to take over. We need to start paying more attention.
Pauline Morris Sep 2020
Locked up tight in a lover's cage
Easy target for all his rage

Lies being continually fed
I love you was said
Caught in his web

Sweetly tainted words he continued to weave
How was I ever that ****** naive
Blindly continuing to believe

Moved far from home and friends, freedom firmly suppressed
Long sleepless nights and days of no rest
As his crazy obsessions slowly manifest

Walking on eggshells till the next rampage
Locked up tight in an iron cage
Easy prey for all his rage

Never really knowing why or when the next attack
One word taken wrong, my jaw he would jack
Kept constantly pregnant, so I couldn't fight back

I realize from the outside looking in it's hard to construe
People say leave, but they haven't the slightest clue
But here on the inside, he means every death threat that's spewed

They just don't know that type of griping fear
Of keeping your children safe and near
While trying to hide all the violence from their eyes and ears

What if I left, tried to break free
Would he **** me, like he promised with glee
Would the kids survive, there's no guarantee

I know if he raised them, they would surely be twisted  
As adults would they follow in his steps, also be addicted
I fear their view of love would grow so sadistic

I was determined to get my kids out of his hellish cage alive
One day my opportunity did faithfully arrive
Leaving him to rot in his own putrid cell, while watching us thrive

               NEVER AGAIN

Will I be locked up in a lover's cage

               NEVER AGAIN

Will I be an easy target for rage

©Pauline Morris
Savannah S Apr 2016
I'm in my little inferno and
Mt Vesuvius groans from
the deep, rich earth.

Bow down to me,
kiss my leather soles
heel and all,
beanstalk man.

Lilac perfume
powder and aroma
laden and heavy in
the air, -- languid.

Writhe and
seethe, and
smash! Rebuild and
kick and
crash.

O, my blue
eyes and sun spot
hair. I am the harp,
you pull the
strings so
well.
louise Sep 2016
****** and bruised,we hold our heads up high.
We keep blocking the noise inside our heads by cursing at the sky,singing the anthem of the ******.
Hell bound,we only pray for things we need to make us feel alive.
Only when tucked in "I love you's" or "I'm a mess" do we say "God".
We keep committing crimes,using our sob stories as our excuses.
As if your bruises and wounds are enough to provide vindication,
As if our pain could justify our sins.
Neglected social casualties,we glorify our alienation,use our insecurities as weapons and wound others instead.
I'm sorry because we can't be saved.I'm sorry because we are told that,"it's all in your head".I'm sorry because growing up means succumbing to the cancer that is life.
I'm sorry,I really am.
Liz Devine Jan 2012
Listen as they howl
With the sirens
And at the sky

Screeching
Bleeding
Yearning
And burning
All for the blood red moon
Like a prayer to God
Like a cry for mama

Listen as they weep
And pine
And ache in relentless agony
All for hope
For some kind of sign
A chill in the night
Or a smile from a star

Watch as they turn themselves
Inside out
In grief and shame
Dirtiness so deep
Even their souls must be hosed down

Watch as they crumble
And become so small
That they are now the earth
A patch of dirt for us to walk over
And smush down with our feet
Like they were never there at all

The souls of the ******
The sleepless coyotes
And the hounds of hell
Wail for me
And beg to take me down
Past the river banks
And deeper than the sea
To a no man’s land
And the place which carries no name.
Still Crazy Oct 2024
expertise irrelevant, a knowing
recognition where & when & why,
venn diagram inflection points
intersect, and also confine

the nirvana nexus on a line of dots in a
movingly motion connected by a formula that
has an equal 🟰 in its muddly middle the man’s best sole instructions to her only

solve! me

when in an moveable interaction
the power of rushing baking cake & it’s filling
is akin to trying to hold back a bucking stream that cannot both be ****** or dammed

running words, making
you obsessed to remember
every detail, but commas only,
never a period interrupting continuity no
essential points of exit and entry

and yet…

you cold stop to breathe
wondering how came you
to be a container intertwining
motifs and motives, desires contradictory,
control contrives to be a
controversy pressured pressed
together, and you want to stop, go,
turnings to touch,
she be tablet and he the pen,
and you wrack to remember each
detail, the poem complete or will
confusions reign supreme
and all the fantastical
schemes are shot to
hell, ink spilled,
house doused

and she good naturedly laughs at you,
cause she knows poet better than himself
and forgives him his inspirational
dazes and gazes of confusion
because it is hard to give when
giving birth to
a dream’s obsessive demands
to love one more
than the other

each deserves no rival, just a final fini,
she wants the same, but the heart
is where he keeps hid, exactly
what she needs, so forgives a
little, because loving a crazy
man after all these years
is taking the excesses
costly cause that be
an insanity desired,
what she loves,
the dusky duo
inside him
a constant
battle re
fusing
resolving
the man’s contradictories,
that she cherishes him for
more, his mired mind, more and
laughs at mores, cause it is never ending;

his more is feature why she loves him very best, she showers and laughs, he rushes in
puzzlement featured on his face, so invites him in and as he falls to his knees in a watery
embrace, while grasping her hips, she
states with a finality: “‘
*”let us discuss the importance of proper endings”
still crazy
recreational writing & ***
Van Xuan Jul 2022
"It's so noisy"
I whispered as I watch my friends eat dinner in the table again.
the only family I cherish.
they gave me peace when I'm in pain
they saved me when I feel ******.
but things have changed
I fail to save them
they are the only thing I have
how come it comes down to this?
I whispered as I stare at an empty table.
"It's so noisy"
read it from bottom to top again
rick Dec 2024
do what makes you happy
and the rest be ******

forget the critics
the naysayers
the reviews

forget those who pounce
at first glance with
unsolicited feedback

forget those who wait
with serrated edges
for the unveiling
of your back

forget those who lambaste
and castrate your creativity

or worse, those who
try to help you
improve it

and then there are those who
uplift and support your work

say thank you
and
forget them
too.

forget about polishing the knobs
off the editors of poesy or
the literary brotherhood
and sisterhood

forget about your friends,
your enemies and
your audience
all together

they are a cough drop
trying to cure an illness

do it
the way it was meant to be done:
without obtrusion
without approval
without asking

don’t allow them
to cloud your mind
with judgment
of any kind

do what makes you happy
and the rest be ******.
Happy New Years Everyone!
Raven May 2014
As humans we love what is forbidden.
our cowering fingers reaching.
yet never grasping.

As humans we think we deserve the world
our golden scissors shredding away.
turning miracles into angel dust.

As humans we find pleasure in terrible ways.
toturing the innocent with words
and blaming the ****** for ******.

As humans we think we create beauty.
even though we destroy the natural world
covering the earth in grays

As a human, I write this.
despise for my race raising with every word.
and yet I am still human.
Holding qualities I cannot stand.

— The End —