"defunct" poems
Buffalo Bill ’s
defunct
who used to
ride a watersmooth-silver
stallion
and break onetwothreefourfive pigeonsjustlikethat
Jesus
he was a handsome man
and what i want to know is
how do you like your blueeyed boy
Mister Death
11.4k
I remember when MTV was in its prime,
A new voice to represent the new boom
Babies growing up since the 80s
Louder still through the troubling decades
(Maxed out credit no head room)
After —the punks in nirvana and rapping clergy
It was the only channel on
Youthful rebel yell —honest news
I remember it pretty well
Shaping us generation x y and Personal Jesus
New wave good bye to when
Childhood then without pain of malnourished
Africa or nukes threatening our
Cruel summers
Were we happier then?
So what happens to the music
Rockstars rip van wrinkle
Geriatric hall of fame
(No one lives forever
Reruns with the ****** & mr. Ed
Now that old neighbor’s dead)
Television
Nowadays
Seem more gangster
School shootings terrorists
On the train, kamikaze planes,
It’s all the same ole
Bling kablam oh bits
******* please
Redirecting our attention
To WMD
***
Where the hells are we?
I remember back then
On MTV —Nicki Minaj says
Between the hysterics of police brutality
She said Happiness is living your life
Without struggle,
That stuck with me
Because we all watch the tube
We all search for meaning
Sadly defining what happiness
May look like
Real World and paradoxical reality
TV
Para socially defunct
Clarity
Conditioned to continuously
Stay tuned
Brief message of empty
Hypnosis a pure form of business
Wall Street
Boulevard of broken dreams
I want my
Happy. What do I mean
To be?
Life ***** lately
The human condition
Talking too much
Refusing to see
No more talking heads too much
Bla bla ********
I want my
MTV . Happy .
My generation
We are the world
freedom And yes, Peace.
Man kindly as one
Symphony
And street, a melting ***
Of diversity
I remember the music
The future
I had hope to see
Behind the shades
Circa 80s 90s
(Fossils)
What time is it then?
When will we
Begin
Again
Don’t worry be happy
Run Forest run!
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 11:55 PM UTC
Pacing in endless circles
Appearing to be chasing their tails
With nothing much to focus on,
Eyes reflecting haunted souls unveil
A ghost town abandoned long ago
With no signs of life and the dust
Rising up trying to hide the shame
Of a system which failed the public trust.
Street smells permeate the air;
Sanitation becomes a four-letter word.
There's no need for appetite here,
Not in this theater of the absurd,
And, well, I wouldn't feed the stuff
To my worst enemy if I had one.
It's a no-kill shelter with defunct inhabitants.
If resiliency of the spirit be overdone,
The ability to survive incredible odds,
Look at souls forever trapped in their cages.
As if to mock decency and humanity
The signs read "Patria o Muerte."
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
I still hear the world in my ears.
I hear the whoosh of the west wind,
The noise of the empty word
And clatter of senses rubbing
Against the body of the wind
As if they are my very bones
That move lazily in my knee.
As I walk in my defunct dreams
I do not need the hearing aid.
Feb 10, 2011
Feb 10, 2011 at 6:54 AM UTC
Movie credits descend and sink
to the bottom of the tv screen;
Admire the time travel of a blink,
repositioned on the bed, not keen
Expired pills; motivating my pulse
Hands shifting; trying to keep up
and end this life which by day gets worse
Free this defunct soul and succumb
And in that moment,
the silent tear that doesn't cease formation;
i have surrendered, time is in halt
The sadness salt, in a state of reconstitution,
But death wasn't part of the victory
She was another night of bedridden dreary
Pre-measured mentality
part anxiety
part agony;
retaining me as an emissary
to unearth my mystery
where do my nightmares trail?
who fogs my thoughts at night?
who tallies off my breaths?
So yes, those pills;
those expired ******* pills
did not give me the answer
Instead, i woke up to another whisper
Jan 25, 2019
Jan 25, 2019 at 1:47 PM UTC
Reflected, an iris of colored contexts that once had reception without spectacles. I signed voluntarily the letters to a name that I sincerely wanted to keep. I tried to limit the lines that divided the print of a written statement of deliverance; a sealed inner sanctum that has remained defunct while displaced of force all along devout of a substance, my words strived to be read ingrained on paper placed in constants among summations of variables clearly he scribed drafts maintaining a patterned complex of metaphors only to contradict the expressions layered, confusing this thinker so that the reader may interpret a plausible audibility for thought looking beyond spectrums of what is to be foreseen
Jan 23, 2010
Jan 23, 2010 at 2:30 PM UTC
Timeless
Framed within
its deceitful frame
time stood still
undecided... between...
...freezing
these tear drops
flowing within its
raged hollow corridors
or...
... melting that frozen rage
into countless tears.
The defunct hands
stood still...
...a mute testimony...
...to Kala's timeless dilemma..
Kala - time
Oct 23, 2010
Oct 23, 2010 at 5:49 AM UTC
My juxtaposition to your heart...
Just short of right and just left of leaving...
This fascination...distant adoration...
Trailing off into the distance...despite my own persistence...going...going...gone...
You see...Yours was a velvet touch... smooth against the skin of my soul...
My lips raw from your sandpaper kiss...once riveting...
Now... remorseful hue... morose shade of blue...defunct me and you...
My own sweet type of primal bliss...you...audaciously exist...within me...
As I the ribbon...the strand...
NO...the last straw...
Am wrapped around your finger...linger...
flail...fight...then make tight...our binding...
Intertwining...
Bound by our brittle bias...
And you... pious... feel the need to mediate...to delegate...
NO...dominate...
Our love...
You... an anomaly...of the not right variety...
Build...gather...house the mire ...selfishly... misty moments... memories
My pain protruding...while eluding...my acute identity...
Pregnant with grief...disbelief...I strain...
Laboriously to free you...
Giving birth to the rain...
of emotions...
And OUR storm rages on...
A weeping...seeping semblance of love...
Circling the drain of our destruction...
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 4:59 PM UTC
*step this side..
no, you.. that side!
in a line, in a line.. quiet now – get ready for fire.. no miss!
please line up the children in neat rows, get them ready…………………..*
1.
eyes are misted over – something happened in the gap
hooking-up strangely with estranged sons lost in custodial-wrangles
alienated values;
family-core defunct like a super-shiny apple with putrescent-flesh
long-beard wants a son after so many daughters, sits unwashed in the smoke
gender-penalty – sorry, sister.. you chose the wrong straw
you remain in that cage till we say come out
2.
bread-basket filled with stealth-grenades
rights and benefits squirm in slick-oil of rules
peasant skirting the limits of the city; even rats fare better
cloak of goat-skin, the shield hides serpents beneath
the hunter will aim for the head, land in the centre..
yet an inch or two too high
sentry, close the gates and bar the window-frames!
3.
inadvertent greed and control; aggressive power
news-man dies for feed that’s untrue, anyway
picture-man twists an image to suit the viewer
all kinds of lines disappear so quick – ****** jokes, theatre, life, even poems
and if you’ve never had the sad combo of sick and homeless,
famished and cold,
tired with sores
oh, war will be courteous enough to bring you all these, on a platter
and more..
*there is no border when we all roam in hunger and in fear
like the orphans in crowded-camps
high-rankers sit far away.. ominously "well-off"
chew on hard-cheese
gulp down red wine
but the throat still feels parched, and that bayonet is too short
its fear will kick in.. on a day least anticipated
would you be shocked if it is a child who will drive that wedge-stick home?*
st – 14 march 2014
Mar 14, 2014
Mar 14, 2014 at 9:26 AM UTC
The briny tears have dried
The sounding knells are stilled
The grieving crowd, dispersed
The parting pain, allayed
Benumbed lie the dead
Beneath the marble vaults
Bereft of power and prowess
Benighted and beaten.
The sun shall never cast its glorious rays
The stars shall never their brilliance shed
The breeze never shall bring tidings new
The showers shall no more drench them through
A thoughtful friend sometimes seen around
A fervent prayer at times chanted aloud
A plaited wreath, rarely laid over
A trite rite, randomly carried out
There’s none left to mourn or weep
Nor anyone to sing, sigh or sob
Leaving the dead to rot in the closure of graves
To life’s alluring charms, the dear depart.
Cold as clay the dead lie so still
To be feasted on by maggots and the worms
Life with all its glory – defunct
Its fever and fret too – extinct.
How in vain we run after wealth
The power and position we deem so great
Shall come to naught within Time’s gloomy vault
Yet we run and yet we straggle behind.
In vain ends our travail for might
Inglorious is our quest after fame
Transient turn the riches, we garner
Short lived is their gleam and glitter.
Oh Lord! Lead us not into illusory charms
Deliver us of our avarice to hoard
For all that is born and made
‘Must consign to death and come to dust.’
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 6:29 AM UTC
This is dedicated to the millions who died in the Biafra - Nigeria civil war
Counting the losses
Of my people at dawn
Breaking the curses
Of no wholly source
I sought to wage war
Without funds and money
I thought to secede
From a nation strong and many
I was full of envy for vain minorities
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Proclaiming Biafra
Was so big an agenda
Building militias
To **** and to tether
My opposed tribal brothers
And the critics of my powers
I denied much on media
All that hid in my fingers
My plans I held higher
The proclamation of Biafra
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Visible to the blind
Were were ready for a fight
Audible to the deaf
Huge price of war to pay
Hausas killed in numbers
By my igbo sons and daughters
yorubas were driven without boots
by my fellow Biafran youths
Ibibios were suspicious
So were Urhobos, Itsekiris and Ijaws
Enmity was at its peak
So high that none could breach
All these were my agenda
My services to Biafra
Was so good for me to render
On May 30th 1967
Was just like a fable
I declared in the open
Without even a wobble
The state of Biafra
Almost complete; an agenda
An anthem was composed
Flag and currency; none could oppose
The heat of the tension
Is such I couldn't mention
The height of jubilation
Not all did it favor
There was sorrow in the land
This, I cared not apart
I was a symbol in the world
For the havoc I did cause
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
The war began
With no money at hand
We fought with pride
With pains in our hands
We fought with might
Defending our father's land
We died in mass
Numbers of air attacks
We killed civilians
Of the tribes against our plan
We'd shoot in the heart
Every oppose we'd catch
Nigerians were too strong
but we swore we'd burn
I saw no flaw
In the havoc I did cause
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
Hunger and thirst
Was order of the day
Sorrow was a pest
and death had no end
Too many burdens to bear
The pains of war to pay
We ran out of guns
Bullets, grenades, even bombs
We had but matchets
Arrows, stones and spears
But We faced an army
Of full artillery
Our tragedy had no end
Even God couldn't help
So our homicide was cast
And We became fossils at last
Let those who seek war; stop and think
The pains of it;higher than that of peace
So I e'caped in a copter
Leaving my people to suffer
So on exile I did ponder
while millions died in yonder
I am an educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border
I write from the grave
From the hell of my pains
I was that educated soldier
Who took you to battle borders
And ran, leaving you to suffer
I was that educated soldier
Of an eastern defunct border.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 9:00 PM UTC
how many protests have you watched now?
how many devolving into riots?
via violent actors, on either side
what was gained, for those we lost?
was it in vain?
did the pay outweigh the cost?
or was our venture defunct?
would civil disobedience had been better sought?
or a more brutal insurrection,
to rival those we've been taught?
just do like they'd wish
and lay down and die
Mar 12, 2021
Mar 12, 2021 at 10:48 PM UTC
*This phenomenon does indeed
Circumvent logic and render the cliché
‘LOVE IS BLIND”….a defunct concept
Almost alien in societies replete with
People savouring the blows
Of emotional tug of wars.
It’s a thorn in the flesh…..
An enigma that’s so audacious
It dares defy the very essence of the human existence
Which undoubtedly is Human intellect
It surely does wreak sweet havoc
And leave in its wake
Irreversible destruction
Care not to be featured in its myriad “conquests*
May 29, 2013
May 29, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
---
she
is
defunct
mother of a
strange changeling
she
nurses it upon
her own heart
arterial blood
of deepest crimson
while It
bites the ******
she
accepts her fate
and allows it to feed
until it is bloated
as a leach
she
allows this stillborn
to drain her soul till
there is no longer any
joy nor pain
love nor hate
peace nor fear
lust nor frigidity
she
has named
her child
loneliness
and she
lets it
drain her
til
she
is
Jun 1, 2015
Jun 1, 2015 at 4:30 AM UTC
A flatulent king sits
Slouching, scratching,
Congealing to his throne of gold.
His army of a billion men
Are clad in ****** bibs
And grins.
Equipped with hate
And hollow eyes
They stand redily assembled.
The king is a miser.
His face is a lie.
His motives are equally clear.
Royal subjects within the walls
Respect only of weakness and fear.
They are taxed and harassed.
For knowledge they're knived.
The wisest of Wiseman
Are forced to take bribes.
Their children are taken and
Hidden away
At the mechanized dawn
That announces each day
To learn to be
Ruthless and cruel.
To take advantage of fools.
Greed and malice are tools to be used
At their s and m brainwashing schools.
So their eyes turn jade
And their words turn black
As they cut up their hands
Stabbing themselves in the back.
They're just being taught
How to buy and be bought.
To serve the king;
A gear in his machine.
The ones who concede,
Buy into the greed
But their weakening teeth snap!
One by one
As they go round the vicious circle.
So they end up
Defunct,
Sunken eyed.
They dangle their
Dot spangled
Hands at their sides.
And although they loose,
Somehow they win.
They end up running
The world we live in.
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 4:52 AM UTC
If I ever woke up in a surreal world
I would saunter into my sister’s room
With luminescent eyes and detached limbs
And feign as if it were the way of life
I’ve come to known and held as true
Then as she'd collapse into an outburst of tears
Her fractured reality abstracted to a menace
Her sister—me, glowering, conjured too
In a world where meaning is defunct, horrifying, lonely
I would laugh, because that’s what sisters do.
Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 12:53 AM UTC
Defunct delightful fruits noir
The sacrosanct pheromone of death
Garnishing Hells credence table
Quailled hem and haw sate
Ilk a slew of paper tigers
With a keen prosaic veneer
Consuming vittle of Gaia
Ravishing ichor like dancing water
Spurning a chimerical somatic
Catharsis as creaking doors hang
The longest watching satorial
Flowers wilt nascent by
Tactiturn vespers.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 4:22 AM UTC
this is the news: a strange to do with all strange. some other kiwi in the hissing bliss of a fine day.
the spoils of bounty are ludicrous in disarray. a jumble of lumpkin, festooned in prayer-wheels and Tibet.
a fountain of open hands.
on the brink... on the terrace of counterfeit pantomimes
a man of days
darning socks and ultraviolet, with quasars for aspic.
a drunk pirouette -
bereft.
love is the one jungle you know when you're lost, and the last thing that made sense. All day.
the spoils of bounty are numinous, always. a trundle of frump-kin, immune to what feels like a guess.
" i refuse to sell my daddy's ranch! "
if you blink... i might tell you where you lost your mind.
an ace of spades
a Goldilocks and ultra violence, with ****** for aspirin.
a defunct smidgen
of less.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 1:18 PM UTC
I bid thee welcome to the masquerade!
T’is a place in which we dance circles around each other,
Dawning a facade.
We dodge, turn, and promenade
All to elude one another
All to trick the other into fraud.
And yet, we still dance.
Fanciful gowns, embroidered in gold!
Shined shoes and a powered nose,
Hidden by thy mask.
Thy game is defunct and old
T’is all concealed by magnificent clothes!
Do not scrape the skin, but in its glow thy must bask.
Be thy wary not to trip on thy skirts.
Secret rendezvous down a dark rue!
A place where a white lie springs
Onto thy heart’s soft flesh - slashed.
"I love you!"
A heart beat faster than the hummingbird's wings.
"Nah, good woman, t’was a feeling long surpassed."
A heart with no beat, imploded and crumbling.
I bid thee adieu from the masquerade!
T'was a place where we danced circles around each other,
And shall closet our facade.
We have dodged, turned, and walked our promenade
All to elude one another
All to trick the other into fraud.
And yet, thy mask never truly retires.
Apr 23, 2013
Apr 23, 2013 at 12:01 AM UTC
at dusk above,
clouds scud like loose teeth in upper gums
purple-pink in twilight. a deep night, seemingly ' on pause '
as all dust tumbles from bare skin
into the naked cause... our minds defunct. our minds undone.
our soul's law
at the very heart
like all
gods
where the birch and elm keep
lean rabbits, and stab at thee with long shadows with ashy knees
and bramble rabble; a riotous acreage of predation and escapeful providence
far beyond fences and subdivisions
where men add
by dividing
and knit with schisms...
where the earth has fangs in the ocean
and long nights.
your
answer is sovereign
and hunts
foxes
with your
eyes
Nov 5, 2012
Nov 5, 2012 at 11:35 AM UTC
Demagogues of our society; daftly delivering
disarming delusions of decrepit delights.
Dealing in powder, rock and liquid death,
demurely doled out in droves to the
willing unconscious, dysfunctional deviants
of the land.
Blindly offering devotions, flaccid devotions
to plastic, white collar deities; giving new
definition to internal deformity, through
decelerated dejection.
Desperate and emotionally dismembered,
defrauded by quick, cheap decadence,
debauchery, and mental decay in many
deliriously delicious forms...pick a flavor,
name your poison!
Delegate your defect, as those with
doctoral degrees in defunct traditions
do deviously delineate their demented
designs...for our future.
DejaVu?
Perhaps, but in fact, it is we
who sniff, inject and drink up their drivel,
decidedly and dutifully depleted of
intellect by way of dubious data.
Duplicitous dullards...sanitize and
deodorize their fiendish lies...as we,
WE do nothing!
Not enough of us dumbfounded or
dumbstruck by their deceitful smiles.
Full of dread and deep dismay, by
the statutes of the day...I, for one,
will dream of better days, when we
shall defeat these diabolical demons.
But for now, down beaten, downtrodden;
we will continue to be denigrated for
the duration.
Clever dissection; dumb as they want you
to be,
disparity of all creativity...individuality...
and all of your rights...controversially.
Our disgruntled displeasure doomed...to
fall on dormant hearts...and we,
debilitated and daunted, lives dismantled,
are now forever haunted, by our freedoms
demise...by days we could question
their smiling lies.
Demagogues; Big Brother...such delinquents
dosing up the masses with a deluge of powder,
rock sedation and liquid elation...pick your flavor,
name your poison.
At the end of the day WE are ONE...duped,
defaced, defeated...and to continue on this
road, our final denouement will come
disturbingly disguised...as DEATH!
-by Mercurychyld
Copyrights
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 3:40 PM UTC
They say the neon lights
Don’t often burn that bright
Splintered from my urethra
Swollen in this hex
Devoured by the Eve
Brought to justice by the guilt
And when they said
That all I had to give
Wasn’t worth a fitful look
I’ve been duped by sedative
The artificial power
Has swollen in my head
Wrapped around an ice pick
Can be found my fleeting shell
As our defunct cohesion
Masticates my head
Disintegration will lay me to my bed.
That sweet nectar
Lingers on my tongue
An inebriated hour of reverie genuine
A claustrophobic detainment
Incarceration with power windows
As your effigy is left behind
These shiv grasped hands
Awaiting exertion, transpierce my eyes
Upon introspective re-inspections
Ichor transmogrifies
Necessitate me
Remain vacant here
As our defunct cohesion
Masticates my head
Disintegration will lay me to my bed.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 10:11 AM UTC
Backseat Sheetzburgerz
Care not for all theze
Rave tunez blaring out of the front side stereo
What burgerz understand, and can count on, iz Zeppelin
Perfect for air guitar
At this time of night on this stretch of asphalt
All the defunct amusement parks have infrared cameraz
Well, shoot
What iz there left to do now but roam
Up and down roadz with namez
Like Spooky Nook and Crooked Crook
Until the sun darez to invade our rubber wheel realm once again
The front side disco spinnerz
Would like to go home
But the back seat burger boyz are ready to roll on
Into some sort of surreal horizon
With a cotton candy ending
And haunted housez to greet us for breakfast
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC