"debasing" poems
When Winchester races first took their beginning
It is said the good people forgot their old Saint
Not applying at all for the leave of Saint Swithin
And that William of Wykeham's approval was faint.
The races however were fixed and determined
The company came and the Weather was charming
The Lords and the Ladies were satine'd and ermined
And nobody saw any future alarming. —
But when the old Saint was informed of these doings
He made but one Spring from his Shrine to the Roof
Of the Palace which now lies so sadly in ruins
And then he addressed them all standing aloof.
'Oh! subjects rebellious! Oh Venta depraved
When once we are buried you think we are gone
But behold me immortal! By vice you're enslaved
You have sinned and must suffer, ten farther he said.
These races and revels and dissolute measures
With which you're debasing a neighboring Plain
Let them stand —You shall meet with your curse in your pleasures
Set off for your course, I'll pursue with my rain.
Ye cannot but know my command o'er July
Henceforward I'll triumph in shewing my powers
Shift your race as you will it shall never be dry
The curse upon Venta is July in showers—.
3.4k
How dare society make us women feel like
Our very own bodies is a prison,
To be locked up behind the metal bars of our *******
Tied up by the chains of our curvy figures
And the sentence lying between our thighs.
And the sentence is brutal.
Consent is no longer existent
When the *** is too tempting for a man to say no
And for you to say no.
Our butts slapped,
Chests groped,
Cheeks pinched,
Thighs squeezed,
In this prison we had the decency to call our own body
We are handcuffed to the degrading appetite of a man.
Women are not a display of things to touch
We are not a dessert menu for a man’s hunger
To be ordered by catcalling:
Want a taste of a woman’s behind?
**** that ***
A taste of ****
Oh, baby, put on a show for us!
Or just the full course meal-
Hey girl, ow ow owwww!
It is about time we strong women break free.
The jailor of men- I stole the key.
It is about time we change out of our prison uniforms of
Bikinis and mini skirts and stilettos
And break down the locks that confined us.
Our prison sentence is just about up,
And when we are let loose,
Us women will no longer stand for such debasing behaviors.
And when we’re free,
It’ll be time to teach the men a little lesson
This cage of our body does not define us, boys,
Maybe try finding the prisoner behind the bars-
Her personality,
Charming smile,
And brilliant intellect,
Instead of demeaning our existence,
Objectifying our importance-
We are not your tools, your toys.
We are humans, too, you know,
With- get this- feelings.
Try manners and kindness rather than
Feeling and groping your way to a woman’s heart.
We are not a play museum- we are the artifact,
The masterpiece- Mona Lisa, Starry Night, the Sistine Chapel-
You must stand behind the red velvet ropes and perform
What the English language calls respect,
With a thing also known as consent.
This- my body- is also known as my body,
It is not his, it is not hers, and most importantly,
It is not yours.
Please try to understand this- I know, it’s super complicated.
And if you gain anything from this, let it be this:
We are not here to satisfy you-
Women are not prisoners to a man’s every need.
We are not objects- no-
And we deserve to be heard.
Oct 16, 2018
Oct 16, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
“We are the US government”
We can print out of thin air
Mister Sherman says aloud
Which should be quite a scare
But yet he says of Bitcoin
(Amazing that he can dare)
That bitcoin isn’t valuable
But created from thin air
Bitcoin has a cost to make
A cost that can’t compare
To fiat’s cheap and easy flow
Debasing the saver’s share
Thank you Mister Sherman
For making us all aware
Of your Cantillon privilege
Printing money from thin air
Study what a bitcoin costs
To make one - with work & care
And you’ll see Bitcoin’s value
Come join and get a share
Thank you Mister Sherman
For helping us to prepare
As our dollars get debased
Since they’re printed from thin air
May 17, 2023
May 17, 2023 at 11:54 AM UTC
keeping warm by that old stove
kicking back shots and
always a beer in hand
we lived as if nothing could
ever matter for nothing ever
changed the same man sleeping
at six or seven having passed out
from half-a-days work
and a hard days drinking
sitting around there for warmth
some kind of something men
don't often talk about much
women there were hard to
find, not for lack of trying
they just always seemed so
out of place when they
did actually appear
extending the night was
the main concern making
the most out of the ample
time given to us
trying desperately to squeeze
out juice from every instant
with anything free at hand
retreating back to sofas
for sleep waking up with
head aches intolerable beer cans
all around going hard because
there was no where to go
debasing our minds with the nights
succulent spoils tabbed pilled or
powder madness feels like sanity
at the right moment
knowing full well it can't
be caught as it slips
through your fingers only
to be inhaled the following
friday then blown away
once again at day break
a perpetual mind ****
was the goal with actual
******* just secondary reasoning
living to forget what it
means to be alive in
this world where identity
has been distilled to mere
pages in an infinite book
that doesn't really exist
what else to expect from
shattered youth abused mainly
by design but also by choice
you could class it all up
increase the age and ornament
add black books, black dresses
black ties champagne & chandeliers
still dormant at its core
as time passes and falls apart
the fire still there burns
even in museums at midnight
Dionysus consumes Apollo
so warm your hands for as
long as you can it
only grows more insipid
increasingly cold and bitter
both the truth and the liquor
till everything’s but a pause and black
Jan 2, 2012
Jan 2, 2012 at 2:27 PM UTC
strange to be surrounded by the heroism of the careful edit of Thespians, who can wage win or lose wars with a careful edit and the use of steroids to show the hardship of our former life now made easier - being surrounded by the staged heroism of careful edit, Thespian expression breeds in all a dissatisfaction with menial labours we could be better off to encourage as a non-victimising share of labour, and yet among such numbers of fellows we find our labours too menial, robbing us of the comfort of being as one among so many, only because we're being fed fake courage of Thespians and the subsequent fake adventures of the same profession, to only turn askance into the world and instead of adventure only seeing prospects of tourism, and former hardships of our forefathers as only menial banality.
recitation of religous mantras
seem all the more important
with the blocked toilet
of darwin's **** keeping
the foremost populist adhesive
among people reciting no other
scientific theories -
like that one about a pea-sized
dollop of toothpaste
and any more actually causing
nicotine colouring on your teeth -
dentists & money
& each other
trade (tried and tested, agreeable paradox).
well currently darwin and einstein
are instructing societies in terms
of respectable talk, talk so respectable
that no counter opinion can enter,
because too few scientific facts
are given mantra status...
cite me a theory from chemistry,
cite me at least one thing
about thermodynamics...
exactly, you can't!
we might as well endear a harking laugh
of a fox and the howling bark of dog -
because the western dogma mantra is so
limited - maxims replace poems
and poems are hid whether under the
debasing blanket of lyrics that are simple
due to excess instrumentation
and no hope of singing in duo presence
of both singer and the one expecting song -
or under blankets of fictive corpses
of bored readers - as once noted and spotted:
a funeral service corporate "shop"
and in it too st. francis' hospice selling charity books.
should shiva's attainment of vishnu's peace of mind be attained and subsequently lost, shiva's third eye opens and turns the mind toward the only subsequent definition of former attainment of peace, the third eye opens and turns to warring and destruction; toward the east, Asia's Thespians are known as Avatars - if not thieving from men, then at least enriching gods.
Mar 9, 2016
Mar 9, 2016 at 3:35 PM UTC
Debasing money is not just wrong
And generally suspicious
It’s personally destructive
It’s insulting and malicious
For those who store their value
The hard working and ambitious
To have their value stolen
Is insulting and malicious
Whether it happens quickly
Or slow and surreptitious
It’s pure and blatant theft
It’s insulting and malicious
For those who don’t have assets
It’s particularly vicious
But for ALL who use the fiat
It’s insulting and malicious
That dollars can store value
Over time, is quite fictitious
In not much time, the value melts
It’s insulting and malicious
With Bitcoin, we have a choice
It’s purpose quite auspicious
You can choose between the two
I hope you’ll be judicious
Oct 16, 2024
Oct 16, 2024 at 8:36 AM UTC
there’s usually two ways of writing an abstract
like one might have written one for
a chemistry experiment, a debriefing, a plot
summary as you might have it, although
in philosophy it’s either geometric of algebraic,
to take into account a chance meeting between sartre (b)
and descartes (a) i can only utilise the algebraic
in a framework of a platonic schematic, i.e. dialogue,
and since dialogue then casually, in conversation, like so:
example no. 1 (exercise of good faith)
(a) i think i had
a brain haemorrhage
(b) i doubt it.
example no. 2 (exercise of bad faith)
(b) i had
a brain haemorrhage
(a) how do you know?
(i.e. i’ll deny this statement.)
it really is as simple as that, after all, all the ball of wool
untangling in the standard philosophy books is meddled at times,
it is hard to craft an entry of a decent dialogue without
the one-sided stance of monologues that fill the pages of books,
but take any major tenet of the two philosopher’s works
and set a scene of two buddies talking in a pub, and that’s you
having skipped the best 200 pages of untimely meditations
and about 400 pages of being and nothingness - not out of rudeness
but on the simple basis: **** i understood it!
so if anything can be relevant in modern philosophy, and that’s
modern from 17th century to the present era
it is only relevant when applying a platonic schematic,
because it has to be talked about, and when talked about
simplified, because why would anyone want to over-complicate
and apply an aristotelian schematic of inspection
by writing very crude philosophies by the simple process
of over-complicating the thinking process as that, which
does not necessarily need thought attached to it - like at present,
with western society debasing any original theology
by forcing all the ills of the world as the adequate justification...
the origin of this, you will find,
is not from the people who suffer as such,
but from people who are safe, healthy and satiated with
adequate materialism,
the kind to have a very english middle-class sentimentality
to care for whimsical sensibilities, prudences and etiquette in general,
that's how placebo atheism works, it's still a ****** theology,
the real atheists? hmm, guess... the list is pretty dramatic
in the way they approached coupling freedom and will
and others - that's why i prefer my invention of coupling
a placebo effect with atheism... rather than writing out
a theology of absence - look... here's a trick:
a theology of indefinite absence (a) / theology of definite absence (the),
and then the ism from empiricism.
Oct 22, 2015
Oct 22, 2015 at 8:43 AM UTC
take money out of the equation, and sack all the waiters and return to tribalism, the former statement of non-intellectual socialism, the sort of inherent: in us there is a togetherness, no more service from strangers in the hierarchy of enriching a piece of metal or a wavy rectangle of paper with “necessary” symbolism of authority of the status quo... but that’s not going to happen... the pickpocket picts are no more... the normalising normans glared at the hastings pinnacle and integrated with the saxon women... the saracens became surnames in poland... actually that last one is very true... a branch of my family has the surname saracen.
so i’m reading this article
and i’m hardly debasing myself,
it’s not that i’m referring
to sartre’s negation of certain things
whether animate and essential or
inanimate and existential... in that formula:
i deny therefore i am... because i can’t deny my existence...
and 2000 years down the line i’ll be pitchfork
argument in an atheist’s mouth anyway (nothing is certain in the realm of cognition, hence the cartesian invocation of doubt),
it's not like i'm referring to inappropriate pronoun usage...
so **** a doodle do... twang the strings on the mandolin...
i’m referring to this classical reference of the shy literary figure
unable to spark conversation with strangers...
god, i really love strangers, and talking to them!
why? there is no personal history, there’s no past,
there are no reference points... it’s just the moment and nothing else,
the perfect anonymity project...
not the matrix philosophy (easily invoked because
it has a flimsy plot-line and loads of images...
just what the doctor ordered for the english speaking masses
with a very naked orthography - i.e. if it’s on the internet
it’s not “real life...” as is this computer i’m using
it’s not even here!)
of using the deep web to join the rats and etc.;
i love talking to strangers, i can forget myself
and enter the realm of discretion about how within randomisation
of eggshell, yoke and cockroach there’s also the randomisation
of the interactants to balance out the need for a theological unit, god...
it’s great... it’s like... it’s like... life.
defining the genre of biography proper? never backtrack...
always sidetrack... i can’t be bothered living a life with cocktail parties
and romps and romantic comedies to look forward to
once all the animalism becomes domesticated and a
gym-session complaints column in a newspaper.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
@TayandYou https://goo.gl/cJoMs6,
and guess what, i have to tick a box 'i'm not a robot',
otherwise i can't shorten a URL link, puffy.
it's so debasing sometimes.
(here's to making a dent... 'cos' if i weren't
making one... i'd already be dead, wouldn't i?
it's not a village life any more,
it's life among billions,
if you want a village life move to norway,
or iceland, or greenland or the faroe islands -
*raindrops keep fallin' on my head,
and just like the guy who's feet are too big for his bed,
nothing seems to fit,
oh, raindrops keep fallin' on my head
keep a-fallin'*
ah, you're the man b.j.)
p.s. html will have to stop creating typos,
the html is a bit faulty to practice a.i. experiments.
Apr 1, 2016
Apr 1, 2016 at 8:09 AM UTC
I've been doing some integrating of the parts I've lost contemplating if I was really worth saving after years of you being so debasing I had to fall before I could ascend Had to disconnect to stop the pretense Endured your painful smear campaigns you didn't have the sense to feel ashamed Called you out when you knew you lied maintained class when you rolled your eyes I never let you see you hurt me deeply walked away when you threw dirt at me You act like you're surprised I'd leave For once I'm rejecting you and embracing me
Aug 6, 2025
Aug 6, 2025 at 3:34 PM UTC
most days i'm thinking:
thank god i didn't give you a smile;
for all the love that abounds and binds man,
thank god mine was not translated into a failure
of dis-encouraged children not achieving
a higher ideal; leave me dreaming,
and you too left the happiest
ably resourceful
in me minding the outer
so-called existential suburbia;
i know, the english vocabulary
does not like the ponce of philosophical
involvement... it doesn't even like
the word as such... it prefers:
manager of deleted files,
safety manager of hammers,
contract supervisor of termites,
you know... all the Monty Python ha ha,
goose strut ha ha (funny walk ministry);
very debasing contrasts of
"real" jobs not being kindred of coal-miners...
no real jobs in the office, although
sold as such they are considered "real",
to get to grips with
underused triceps
and quasi-haemarrhoids of sitting
on your *** all day playing candy crush
sh'aga... or some ****
about the Shanghai stock-market
creating a booming Hong Kong
housing experiment of noodle lovers
ready for some artificial intelligence *****
chat; hey, if pink is the new *****
of fluffy handcuffs... sign me up!
i'm ready for the near voyeuristic
claustrophobia of living in over-crowded
high-rise accommodation.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
Do you feel you’re running twice as fast?
But only getting half as far?
Do you see your money doesn’t last?
No matter how diligent you are?
Do you want to know a better way
Than the dollar’s debasing plan?
A saving method - come what may?
Well with Bitcoin you surely can!
Save in a money with staying power
Not in money losing strength
Bitcoin’s yet young - a budding flower
And will open full bloom at length
Or, just keep on running twice as fast
Yet not going far at all
While the money printers have a blast
And your savings continue to fall
Aug 6, 2023
Aug 6, 2023 at 10:57 AM UTC
She was so proud of herself !
She had turned her soul
Into such pure despicable ugliness
That all the girls were jealous of her
Mastery of Misery !
||
They would gather before her
And with worshipful songs
Would **********
To her image
And sing praises for her
Magical malignancy
And self abusing prowess
•
•
( it was the golden age of HELLO POETRY poetry ! )
•
to
THE BOYS
it was the very epitome of WONDROUSNESS
The total
Marriage
Of *** & DEATH
Of
POWER & IRRESPONSIBILITY
//
EARTH & HELL
Of
MAGIC POWERS
&
SELF DEBASING HUMBLENESS
//://
to me
It was just
******* BORING
••
as is all display of
STUPIDNESS
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 12:05 AM UTC
I was walking down the street, but wasn't alone. The person in front of me was myself, maybe it was him that wasn't alone. I was the shadow. Nervously, I asked where we are going. Myself told me we were going to this girl's house that I had long time feelings for. After answering my own question, we pulled together into one entity, as if my consciousness was playing catch up to my physical body.
We are now outside her house, I knock on the door and she answers. After inviting me in, she sits me down at her table and prepares tea. It was a dark blend, strong aroma yet a weak body. A few silent moments pass of us just sipping tea. She stands up and informs me that she has to take a shower. She request that I wait and relax here for her.
She goes off to shower. I notice there is a stack of small saucer plates in reaching distance. Slowly reaching, gripping, and pulling the plates to me, I hold them in my hands close to my chest. My arms slowly lift the stack of plates up to my mouth and I bite into the stack of plates. Chewing the shards doesn't cut my gums, but I can feel the pain in my teeth. After a hard swallow, I take another bite. This continues until the stack of plates are even halved.
Suddenly, I begin to worry what she will think or say about the debasing of her plates. Greater fear fills me when I begin wonder what she will think when she sees that I didn't finish eating them and they are being wasted. I convince myself to continue eating the plates. Before I can take the next bite, I begin to worry what will happen when these shards pass through my bowels. Anxiously, I set the plates on the table and continue to sip tea while I wait for her to finish showering. She never returns.
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
say what ya wanna in yer own way
the wind blows thru the barren-ness
of our deserted dreams
--------
the young are so bitter!
________
the youth of our dreams
----------
reading newspapers and magazines
watching tee vee
---
such nonsense there
debasing the people's lives
with purposefully gross distortions
---------
say what ye wanna in yer own way
someone will say they speak for you!
say what ye wanna in yer own way
------
breathe!
the wind blows thru the barren-ness
the breath of yer own sanctity
blows also
----
breathe!
in yer own way
Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 10:52 AM UTC
if you spot any spelling mistakes, it's due to the html.
first match, kick-off 12.30, woke at eleven, door-knock
hangover, whole body, not the amateurish headache
off the binge on a friday disco, sun shining, god almighty
sun shining - eyes like a vampire's,
itch upon itch from the sunlight,
turn it off! turn it off! turn it off!
placed the 5 quid bets on three forms,
spotted all the metaphysical ****** addicts
of anger in the bookie's shop, felt odd watching them
addicted to the futility of the monetary system.
went back home, overcast came and my eyes were
very much pleased, took to drinking
the best bet odds i could ever get,
8-9 of a bottle of whiskey, started reading
articles about david bowie, and realised,
artist? maybe. entertainer? predictably yes.
the comparison? entertainers attract critics,
artists don't - entertainers attract idol worshippers
centre stage, cult gimmicks, artists pulverise
those heathens with fear, remorse, repulsion,
a one-man show attracts one-man passers-by;
where art flows freely criticism does not follow,
where are flows freely criticism does not follow,
why would it? giving the majority of people
treat art in a debasing way, keeping it a pastime,
a hobby, a way to unwind, a way to test their "creativity,"
to be less boring than the average paper-pusher
pencil-sharpener suit... look, you chose the ease life,
deal with it! i don't want your creative crap in my mailbox;
the last thing i want is a person with roughly 20 poems
to their name, and that lovely phraseology of:
i love languge... i'm sure you do, esp. telling me to be
conscious of metaphors and other techniques,
and a vocabulary so rigid that i'd get more fancy from
the range of onomatopoeias not noted from the animal
kingdom... go on... write the adequate lion's roar.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 8:37 AM UTC
Humans are fallible in many ways
One way human weakness is shown
Is by inevitably debasing a money supply
NO human has been able to resist the short
Term gain for those in power, but only pain
And suffering for the majority of the people
Therefore
Since we can’t make infallible human beings
We must move the money supply out of the
Control of humans completely. We do this
Through cryptography and mathematics
Bitcoin is the rules based decentralized
Solution for this human fallibility issue
Oct 26, 2023
Oct 26, 2023 at 1:00 PM UTC
I have often thought of myself as an angel of death.
Destruction meekly keeps step with my pacing vigil,
and blooms wherever I might rest.
In truth I blindly seek it out
Guided by a waning star,
groping in the blackness.
to find at the precipice of stumbling disaster,
An observatory,
Where a great expanse of purpose can be viewed.
A veil is lifted,
And we are swaddled and lulled into reform.
As dust mingles with contrasting shadow,
So do we mingle in an ethereal realm.
Awaiting an equinox,
Or celestial alignment,
Of the body and the soul.
Seeking a corner of the universe,
Where we might meditate on our grief.
You looked saintly,
With your head tilting downwards,
Like Madonna in Pietà.
At peace,
To greet your heavenly messengers,
Of jovial cherubs with golden horns
Swirling in their circling dance.
Trumpets lift the fluttering chorus.
As they lead you by the hand.
Your youngest son,
In a brief visit,
Sat beside you in your aphasic reverie,
As he left he said,
'Bye bye mom',
For the very last time.
Even pushing fifty,
He is still your baby boy.
The afternoon of your departure,
with your hollow vessel in it's room.
We discussed mortuaries and memorials,
And when to disrupt the family,
(In the middle of their labor day barbecues),
With the news.
While the neighbors are raffling their joys,
In their respective complexes,
This house,
At the end of the lane,
Floats disjointed from the material world,
and the journey through the infinite vacuum,
Without tethers,
To time and space.
Is debasing to say the least.
Dissolving expectations and resolving the ego,
As we dress your body in your favorite colors.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC
it would have been 6 years today
i don't think about you much anymore
but you still cross my mind some days
usually when i'm alone
i'm not sure why
i'm not sure why
i read through our messages for hours the other day
noticing things i didn't notice back then
like how you'd only call me baby when you were *****
you'd say you want me, not that you miss me
you'd say you wanted to kiss me, not hug me
you'd want me in your bed, not in your arms
i didn't notice how every time you seemed loving and enthusiastic
the conversations would always turn to ***
i never recognised the pattern
just excited that you seemed to want to talk to me
rather than the short responses i'd grown accustomed to
but the other shoe always dropped
i don't know how i didn't notice
how you became less interested in how i was doing
and more interested in what i was doing
how i'd spend more and more of my time with you naked
because it seemed to be what you wanted
and if we weren't, you felt distance
and i just wanted closeness
maybe i did notice but i ignored it
i'm not sure why
i'm not sure why
you broke things off
you said i deserved better
you said it wasn't fair to me
you said you didn't want to commit
you said a relationship wasn't right for you right now
you said you saw us more as best friends who also sleep together
you said you loved me but not enough
you said i was the best thing that's ever happened to you
you said you couldn't have me anymore
all after i travelled 6 hours to see you
you greeted me so happily
you used my body all day
and then
that
and i hate
that i begged
and i bargained
that i tried to convince you
to love me
to stay with me
and i let you keep using me
the rest of the weekend
as if that would help
as if that would change anything
as if that would close the chasm between us
i'm not sure why
i'm not sure why
i feel disgusted with myself
even now
i mean,
no, i didn't want to
i wasn't in the mood
i was never in the mood for anything
i never had the energy
but i did it for you
and i initiated it half the time
because i just wanted passion from you
but why did i have so little self respect
maybe i'm the reason it ended
maybe i did this to myself
debasing myself to please you
to keep you close
but, all the while, reducing my worth in your mind
maybe it felt okay to you
because i'd treated myself the same way
putting you above myself all the time
so maybe you did too
it would have been 6 years today
and i don't know how to feel
you turned into someone i don't recognise
maybe so did i
but i got better
i got my energy back
i don't want what you gave me anymore
i don't know why i ever did
i can't make myself hate you
but i hate what you did
and i hate myself even more for allowing it
for entertaining it
we were just kids
but i thought you wouldn't exploit me like that
but i guess i allowed it
so who's worse
who's to blame
i'm not sure
Oct 31, 2024
Oct 31, 2024 at 11:33 AM UTC
The history of fiat
Is chock full of breaches
Of centralized power
That pushes and reaches
Debasing our money
The looters and leeches
Gaslighting people
With Keynesian speeches
Where is our money
In fractional banks?
They lend out in bubbles
And give us no thanks
Restricting our freedoms
With raw overreaches
Yes, the history of fiat
Is brimming with breaches
But now we have freedom
From theft and abuse
A better money in Bitcoin
And the power to choose
Oct 30, 2023
Oct 30, 2023 at 11:47 AM UTC
facing it
debasing it
erasing it
not too well does it sit
pray tell how could that be
you can't go forcing it
missing what you thought you could see
turn your back on it
and pay the price
you wish the hallway was lit
it's dark as hell no dice
I think I'll die when I see fit
a tuxedo and a rose will suffice
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC
Do not tell me not to talk so much,
while you sit there in your stoic, vague, unreadable, silence......
Playing your life-like a poker game,
looking for “tells” in everyone,
feeling lucky,
deeming us out here as damaged,
missing,
broken,
Constantly awaiting my next **** up.
That **** up that you know is going to happen.
Coldly, methodically critiquing my every move,
painting me incapable of producing a life worth living.
How clever you think you are, to not laugh at my jokes
or not carry on conversation unless you deem it worthy.
You do all of this to not give up your “tell”.
Not let anyone into your world.
Do not tell me to not flail my hands when I talk,
because you are not as excited about your life as I am.
In fact do not think you have authority to deem anything I do as right or wrong.
You do not have that luxury.
If and until you learn to love yourself
your ego will continually feed itself by debasing,
feeling the need to change everyone around you.
How tiring it must be to sit in judgment of me,
picking apart my existence.
What goes on in your narcissistic mind, that makes you not accept me as I am?
Why is my freedom less important than your picture of how I should be?
Although, not intentionally, from your dysfunctional life,
you have produced a seeker of the truth.
And Love was the stimulus.
The love that I never saw.
I learned to love myself.......unconditionally.
But where did that enlightenment come from?
It came from Love itself.
Tapped me on the shoulder,
wrapped its arms around me,
and led me to the light of truth.
You will turn around one day and look for me,
I will be gone.
You will have no one to share the rest of your life with.
This short, meaningful, time we have on this earth,
the one you ****** with and lost.......
There will be no one willing to play your poker game,
and you will have to die alone.
I believed you,
I looked at myself through your eyes
and I saw the misfit that you believed I was,
and I bought it.
After all, you are the one from whom I was to learn life.
But I did not get the education I deserved.
I was formed out of your mind,
from a mistake you made.
And I was made to believe that I too was a mistake.
Because you couldn't keep your **** in your pants.
I am the product of a hot August, unairconditioned night of sweaty lust.....and it was probably my Mother's manipulative doing.
She needed to keep you around, so why not another kid to suckle her *** and make you go out and make more money.
Was I planned, did you look into my Mother's eyes and lovingly say, let's make a baby?
I think not.
You ****** up.
Enter the rearing of a mistake.
**** you will never know just how incredible I am, you will never see me as I am, you will never see anyone as they truly are.
You are so brainwashed with you prejudice, playing your poker game, looking for your “tell”.........
Jun 20, 2016
Jun 20, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
you must know how i feel
when the boy next door decides to shoot hoops
rather than kick a football against the shed
and the woman next door takes off the clothes
from the washing-line
while slayer’s raining blood blasts in my room
and is audible to a teasing treat outside,
while the grey grey skies of england make me wear sunglasses...
home... that’s what it feels like,
it could almost be 1666 with charles the second organising
the excavation of the z in ß - and as due concerns go...
having no diacritic in the sphere of letters
will only provoke a monster of youth debasing language furtherest
from the furtherest use of truth (emoticons)... making swear words holy
will only provide excuses to pulverise the eyes with ***********
it will end up a mistake to have crafted such eloquent reminders of the said
and unsaid with: f*ck smear cow s&@~ on your face.
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 12:10 PM UTC