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Deceive me
Lie to me
**** with my head

On the edge of the cliff
Then you pull me to bed

Your love is a drug
*** with you gets me high
I’m a full blown ******
Makes no sense; don’t know why

You're an ever present torment
The fission laser splitting my mind
A jig-saw puzzle that was completed
Slowly each piece from each piece you unbind

Seductively you tear me down
Like the clothing you disrobe
A deer staring into headlights
I am frozen on the road

The weight of the world bearing down on me
As those focused beams get closer
Gladly I welcome them
Even though I’m not supposed to

Every rational thought I have
tells me how wrong you are for me
But they are drowned and muffled out
No more thoughts; keep your pennies

No sensible way to explain
Why I ******* love you so much
You’re a psychotic crazy *****
that I don’t want anyone else to touch
A blowtorch ignites a flame
A fire fierce and burning bright
Even though I know it will burn me
With all my gathered strength and might

All it takes from you is that look
You cast that Vampire’s gaze and grin
Instantaneously my defenses lowered
and you know you’ve ****** me in
Immerse myself into the flame
Intense pain; you melt my skin
Until pain I feel no more
I’m enveloped in your sin

And like a ****** choosing dope
Everyday, your sin I’ll take
I will gladly sell my soul
The most egregious of mistakes

A preying succubus appears
like a dreamy demoness
A world of dreams are turned to nightmares
Fills her needs for human flesh
Written: February 19, 2018

All rights reserved.
IN SEARCH OF THE PRESENT

I begin with two words that all men have uttered since the dawn of humanity: thank you. The word gratitude has equivalents in every language and in each tongue the range of meanings is abundant. In the Romance languages this breadth spans the spiritual and the physical, from the divine grace conceded to men to save them from error and death, to the ****** grace of the dancing girl or the feline leaping through the undergrowth. Grace means pardon, forgiveness, favour, benefice, inspiration; it is a form of address, a pleasing style of speaking or painting, a gesture expressing politeness, and, in short, an act that reveals spiritual goodness. Grace is gratuitous; it is a gift. The person who receives it, the favoured one, is grateful for it; if he is not base, he expresses gratitude. That is what I am doing at this very moment with these weightless words. I hope my emotion compensates their weightlessness. If each of my words were a drop of water, you would see through them and glimpse what I feel: gratitude, acknowledgement. And also an indefinable mixture of fear, respect and surprise at finding myself here before you, in this place which is the home of both Swedish learning and world literature.

Languages are vast realities that transcend those political and historical entities we call nations. The European languages we speak in the Americas illustrate this. The special position of our literatures when compared to those of England, Spain, Portugal and France depends precisely on this fundamental fact: they are literatures written in transplanted tongues. Languages are born and grow from the native soil, nourished by a common history. The European languages were rooted out from their native soil and their own tradition, and then planted in an unknown and unnamed world: they took root in the new lands and, as they grew within the societies of America, they were transformed. They are the same plant yet also a different plant. Our literatures did not passively accept the changing fortunes of the transplanted languages: they participated in the process and even accelerated it. They very soon ceased to be mere transatlantic reflections: at times they have been the negation of the literatures of Europe; more often, they have been a reply.

In spite of these oscillations the link has never been broken. My classics are those of my language and I consider myself to be a descendant of Lope and Quevedo, as any Spanish writer would ... yet I am not a Spaniard. I think that most writers of Spanish America, as well as those from the United States, Brazil and Canada, would say the same as regards the English, Portuguese and French traditions. To understand more clearly the special position of writers in the Americas, we should think of the dialogue maintained by Japanese, Chinese or Arabic writers with the different literatures of Europe. It is a dialogue that cuts across multiple languages and civilizations. Our dialogue, on the other hand, takes place within the same language. We are Europeans yet we are not Europeans. What are we then? It is difficult to define what we are, but our works speak for us.

In the field of literature, the great novelty of the present century has been the appearance of the American literatures. The first to appear was that of the English-speaking part and then, in the second half of the 20th Century, that of Latin America in its two great branches: Spanish America and Brazil. Although they are very different, these three literatures have one common feature: the conflict, which is more ideological than literary, between the cosmopolitan and nativist tendencies, between Europeanism and Americanism. What is the legacy of this dispute? The polemics have disappeared; what remain are the works. Apart from this general resemblance, the differences between the three literatures are multiple and profound. One of them belongs more to history than to literature: the development of Anglo-American literature coincides with the rise of the United States as a world power whereas the rise of our literature coincides with the political and social misfortunes and upheavals of our nations. This proves once more the limitations of social and historical determinism: the decline of empires and social disturbances sometimes coincide with moments of artistic and literary splendour. Li-Po and Tu Fu witnessed the fall of the Tang dynasty; Velázquez painted for Felipe IV; Seneca and Lucan were contemporaries and also victims of Nero. Other differences are of a literary nature and apply more to particular works than to the character of each literature. But can we say that literatures have a character? Do they possess a set of shared features that distinguish them from other literatures? I doubt it. A literature is not defined by some fanciful, intangible character; it is a society of unique works united by relations of opposition and affinity.

The first basic difference between Latin-American and Anglo-American literature lies in the diversity of their origins. Both begin as projections of Europe. The projection of an island in the case of North America; that of a peninsula in our case. Two regions that are geographically, historically and culturally eccentric. The origins of North America are in England and the Reformation; ours are in Spain, Portugal and the Counter-Reformation. For the case of Spanish America I should briefly mention what distinguishes Spain from other European countries, giving it a particularly original historical identity. Spain is no less eccentric than England but its eccentricity is of a different kind. The eccentricity of the English is insular and is characterized by isolation: an eccentricity that excludes. Hispanic eccentricity is peninsular and consists of the coexistence of different civilizations and different pasts: an inclusive eccentricity. In what would later be Catholic Spain, the Visigoths professed the heresy of Arianism, and we could also speak about the centuries of ******* by Arabic civilization, the influence of Jewish thought, the Reconquest, and other characteristic features.

Hispanic eccentricity is reproduced and multiplied in America, especially in those countries such as Mexico and Peru, where ancient and splendid civilizations had existed. In Mexico, the Spaniards encountered history as well as geography. That history is still alive: it is a present rather than a past. The temples and gods of pre-Columbian Mexico are a pile of ruins, but the spirit that breathed life into that world has not disappeared; it speaks to us in the hermetic language of myth, legend, forms of social coexistence, popular art, customs. Being a Mexican writer means listening to the voice of that present, that presence. Listening to it, speaking with it, deciphering it: expressing it ... After this brief digression we may be able to perceive the peculiar relation that simultaneously binds us to and separates us from the European tradition.

This consciousness of being separate is a constant feature of our spiritual history. Separation is sometimes experienced as a wound that marks an internal division, an anguished awareness that invites self-examination; at other times it appears as a challenge, a spur that incites us to action, to go forth and encounter others and the outside world. It is true that the feeling of separation is universal and not peculiar to Spanish Americans. It is born at the very moment of our birth: as we are wrenched from the Whole we fall into an alien land. This experience becomes a wound that never heals. It is the unfathomable depth of every man; all our ventures and exploits, all our acts and dreams, are bridges designed to overcome the separation and reunite us with the world and our fellow-beings. Each man's life and the collective history of mankind can thus be seen as attempts to reconstruct the original situation. An unfinished and endless cure for our divided condition. But it is not my intention to provide yet another description of this feeling. I am simply stressing the fact that for us this existential condition expresses itself in historical terms. It thus becomes an awareness of our history. How and when does this feeling appear and how is it transformed into consciousness? The reply to this double-edged question can be given in the form of a theory or a personal testimony. I prefer the latter: there are many theories and none is entirely convincing.

The feeling of separation is bound up with the oldest and vaguest of my memories: the first cry, the first scare. Like every child I built emotional bridges in the imagination to link me to the world and to other people. I lived in a town on the outskirts of Mexico City, in an old dilapidated house that had a jungle-like garden and a great room full of books. First games and first lessons. The garden soon became the centre of my world; the library, an enchanted cave. I used to read and play with my cousins and schoolmates. There was a fig tree, temple of vegetation, four pine trees, three ash trees, a nightshade, a pomegranate tree, wild grass and prickly plants that produced purple grazes. Adobe walls. Time was elastic; space was a spinning wheel. All time, past or future, real or imaginary, was pure presence. Space transformed itself ceaselessly. The beyond was here, all was here: a valley, a mountain, a distant country, the neighbours' patio. Books with pictures, especially history books, eagerly leafed through, supplied images of deserts and jungles, palaces and hovels, warriors and princesses, beggars and kings. We were shipwrecked with Sinbad and with Robinson, we fought with d'Artagnan, we took Valencia with the Cid. How I would have liked to stay forever on the Isle of Calypso! In summer the green branches of the fig tree would sway like the sails of a caravel or a pirate ship. High up on the mast, swept by the wind, I could make out islands and continents, lands that vanished as soon as they became tangible. The world was limitless yet it was always within reach; time was a pliable substance that weaved an unbroken present.

When was the spell broken? Gradually rather than suddenly. It is hard to accept being betrayed by a friend, deceived by the woman we love, or that the idea of freedom is the mask of a tyrant. What we call "finding out" is a slow and tricky process because we ourselves are the accomplices of our errors and deceptions. Nevertheless, I can remember fairly clearly an incident that was the first sign, although it was quickly forgotten. I must have been about six when one of my cousins who was a little older showed me a North American magazine with a photograph of soldiers marching along a huge avenue, probably in New York. "They've returned from the war" she said. This handful of words disturbed me, as if they foreshadowed the end of the world or the Second Coming of Christ. I vaguely knew that somewhere far away a war had ended a few years earlier and that the soldiers were marching to celebrate their victory. For me, that war had taken place in another time, not here and now. The photo refuted me. I felt literally dislodged from the present.

From that moment time began to fracture more and more. And there was a plurality of spaces. The experience repeated itself more and more frequently. Any piece of news, a harmless phrase, the headline in a newspaper: everything proved the outside world's existence and my own unreality. I felt that the world was splitting and that I did not inhabit the present. My present was disintegrating: real time was somewhere else. My time, the time of the garden, the fig tree, the games with friends, the drowsiness among the plants at three in the afternoon under the sun, a fig torn open (black and red like a live coal but one that is sweet and fresh): this was a fictitious time. In spite of what my senses told me, the time from over there, belonging to the others, was the real one, the time of the real present. I accepted the inevitable: I became an adult. That was how my expulsion from the present began.

It may seem paradoxical to say that we have been expelled from the present, but it is a feeling we have all had at some moment. Some of us experienced it first as a condemnation, later transformed into consciousness and action. The search for the present is neither the pursuit of an earthly paradise nor that of a timeless eternity: it is the search for a real reality. For us, as Spanish Americans, the real present was not in our own countries: it was the time lived by others, by the English, the French and the Germans. It was the time of New York, Paris, London. We had to go and look for it and bring it back home. These years were also the years of my discovery of literature. I began writing poems. I did not know what made me write them: I was moved by an inner need that is difficult to define. Only now have I understood that there was a secret relationship between what I have called my expulsion from the present and the writing of poetry. Poetry is in love with the instant and seeks to relive it in the poem, thus separating it from sequential time and turning it into a fixed present. But at that time I wrote without wondering why I was doing it. I was searching for the gateway to the present: I wanted to belong to my time and to my century. A little later this obsession became a fixed idea: I wanted to be a modern poet. My search for modernity had begun.

What is modernity? First of all it is an ambiguous term: there are as many types of modernity as there are societies. Each has its own. The word's meaning is uncertain and arbitrary, like the name of the period that precedes it, the Middle Ages. If we are modern when compared to medieval times, are we perhaps the Middle Ages of a future modernity? Is a name that changes with time a real name? Modernity is a word in search of its meaning. Is it an idea, a mirage or a moment of history? Are we the children of modernity or its creators? Nobody knows for sure. It doesn't matter much: we follow it, we pursue it. For me at that time modernity was fused with the present or rather produced it: the present was its last supreme flower. My case is neither unique nor exceptional: from the Symbolist period, all modern poets have chased after that magnetic and elusive figure that fascinates them. Baudelaire was the first. He was also the first to touch her and discover that she is nothing but time that crumbles in one's hands. I am not going to relate my adventures in pursuit of modernity: they are not very different from those of other 20th-Century poets. Modernity has been a universal passion. Since 1850 she has been our goddess and our demoness. In recent years, there has been an attempt to exorcise her and there has been much talk of "postmodernism". But what is postmodernism if not an even more modern modernity?

For us, as Latin Americans, the search for poetic modernity runs historically parallel to the repeated attempts to modernize our countries. This tendency begins at the end of the 18th Century and includes Spain herself. The United States was born into modernity and by 1830 was already, as de Tocqueville observed, the womb of the future; we were born at a moment when Spain and Portugal were moving away from modernity. This is why there was frequent talk of "Europeanizing" our countries: the modern was outside and had to be imported. In Mexican history this process begins just before the War of Independence. Later it became a great ideological and political debate that passionately divided Mexican society during the 19th Century. One event was to call into question not the legitimacy of the reform movement but the way in which it had been implemented: the Mexican Revolution. Unlike its 20th-Century counterparts, the Mexican Revolution was not really the expression of a vaguely utopian ideology but rather the explosion of a reality that had been historically and psychologically repressed. It was not the work of a group of ideologists intent on introducing principles derived from a political theory; it was a popular uprising that unmasked what was hidden. For this very reason it was more of a revelation than a revolution. Mexico was searching for the present outside only to find it within, buried but alive. The search for modernity led
The pains of reality justify the
Deep seated sorrow of man.

The vulture encircles me
Events surrounded by mystery
Enveloped in insanity
The human race is
Captivated by mystery
Doomed to repeat history

Collusion to bestow unmitigated
Sorrow upon my being

Simply put, I am
Damaged goods

Speak softly now
And choose your next thoughts
Carefully,
For the devil has called
My soul to dance

Reckless, unmitigated
Abandonment
Of mind, body, and soul
Fruitless searches
Forever numb
Longing to feel whole

Deep beneath the rolling waves
Lies serenity
Amongst sunken slaves
Deep inside my brain
The labyrinth of my mind
Memories that
I've left behind
Gone with the breeze
Above arid land
Somewhere lost in the desert
Where only shamans understand
Somewhere locked in the innocence
Of childhood frailty
Misplaced in the universe
Perpetuating reality
Walking alongside
All the gods of the ages
Bounding across time
In history's pages
Vacated with the morals
Of man
Lost in the seams of
Our lives
In the absence of the infinite
Shared hallucinogenic cries
Gone with the limbs of
The serpent
Ignored individuality dies
The reflection of man tainted,
For it is where the devil hides
Looming in the shadows
Of irresistible allure
No acquittal of our sins
A race ****** to remain
Impure
Violence surrounding our
Unequivocal, dastardly instincts
Perched in the forefront of our
Perceived selves
Selfish, devilish
Acts of kindness
The misfortune of the fortunate
Given all the amenities
Of a king's meal
Without the sensation of
Taste
Washed away with our
Dreams of betterment
Laying upon the chests
Of mythological beasts
Souls left rotting
Souring with ferment

Supreme consciousness
Arouses the senses
Invent my future with the
Myths of the past

You're stuck in a state of
Imaginary grace
Dream myself into
New bounds of transparency

Cryptic writings
Things left unsaid
Unsure of the real
Or the surreal
Life's slipping away
Once again
Paper in hand
Palms begin to sweat
Indulging into reality
Memories
I long to forget

It seems forever
Since I've been home
Trying to balance
This chemical imbalance
But always, I'm left here
Alone
Believing my dreams real
Realizing my world's surreal
Living with uncertainty
Imagining reality

Where do I go
To hide the pain?
Dual existence?
Acute psychosis?
Trapped inside my own
Brain
There's a place in my mind
I like to hide
Where all of my secrets
I do confide
There's a place I go
To bury the pain
A papered existence
Conducive synopsis,
Abstained

I begin to sweat
My heart screaming
From my chest
Let the feeling pass
Delve into the kingdom
Inability to
Repress
Take me away
To that far off place
Abscond into surreality
Amongst things I dare not
Confess

Drinking in divinity
Affixed on mortality
Will I die in this place?
Unable to resurface
Back in reality

Stuck running in circles
On a surface-less plane
Can't escape the shadows
Can't remove the pain
Simple design
Made up of
Over thought complexity
A universe separated
Removed from the modern mind
Inexorably

Amputation of
The mutation
That is the
Human race
Segregation of this
Charred realm
From other wordly
Space
We live
We die
And death begins it
Reinvent our minds
Ignite our passions

Drowning in a gene pool
Of degenerates
Souls thrashing
Wildly, forlorn
Plunged into unmitigated
Evil
Of a race that destroys
The unborn

Lachrymose gaze
Upon the living dead
A thin film of separation
Through which lies
Are fed
Understanding the weakness
Into which we are
******
For shed blood
Forces cries
Ripping from mother's eyes
Witnessing her own demise
As a piece of her
Slowly dies
For father's impenitent
Fantasies once dreamed
Torn away from aching
Fingers
Left ravaged,
Impotent

Gazing at you
Under the cloak of
Intrigue
Watching you struggle
In the tangled lies
You weave

Commanding the head
Of the serpent
Lilith forcing man's
Non-repent
Imposed upon our being
Righteous punishments
Such ramifications
Deemed astringent

Incomprehensible
Allure
Masochists of
Everything pure

Watch the world die
From afar
Irrevocable despair
Promising allegiance
To a life I cannot
Bear

Killing myself with
Indecision
On the perimeter
Of sanity
In the psychotropic prison
And psychotic affliction

Here it comes again
The voices, getting louder
It doesn't feel good anymore
How do I escape
Escaping?
Where do I go when my sanctum
Has been compromised?
Unable to quiet
The insurgents afoot
Incurable, incalculable
Indecision
Lost, finding my way home
Left in between existence
Alongside myself
Alone

The cold, inhuman ability
To sacrifice one's own mind
Hanging onto the coat tails
Of free thought
Journey we now,
Into the nightmare
Ignoring loss of
Comprehension
Vacated laws of
Apprehension
Arming latent illness
Plotting revenge
Beneath the surface

Here it comes again
I hear it getting louder
It doesn't feel good anymore
Who will save the lifeguard
When he's about to drown?

Can you see me?
Can you hear my cry out?
He looks to find
There's no one around

Searching indefinitely
For myself
Lost in another
Under the guise of
Someone else
Why does it matter?
Seemingly insignificant
In a moment of clarity
Just breathe for a moment
Shoved back in reality
"Am I dreaming," he asked
His reflection replied
The answer profound
Unknowingly died

I sold my soul to get here
On the periphery of realization
Stuck on the perimeter of reality
Reentry revoked
Forced to sit idly
As my life passes
Before my eyes

This is my letter
Unable to deliver
This is my life
Unable to decipher
This is my nightmare
That I've never dreamed before

Trapped in the prison
I've constructed on my own
Locked myself in four walls
Of uncertainty
Built in the center of being
Unnoticed by the proprietor
Frailty prevalent
Implosion of the mind
Leading to the ******* of
The insanity
I've come to find

Death looms at the end
Of the candlestick
Walk hand in hand
With me
Fellow traveler of
Uncharted paths
My fellow affliction
With the unknown
Unable to save myself
From the pain I know
Awaits me

Here it comes again
Inescapable, maniacal laughter
It doesn't feel good anymore
And all I ever wanted
Was your guiding hand
Complacent in lies
Forcing deafening cries,
For there will be
No reprise
As my soul flutters
And dies

Death for sale
Ten will take you away
Consumed by the thought of it
No more worry
No more being suppressed
This other kingdom
Unknowingly repressed
Delve deeper into the nightmare
We lie together
Naked
Unashamed
Open to the probing
Fingertips
Of the world
Unable to speak
Sleep paralysis,
Yet this is no dream
Wide eyed
Searching
Unable to scream

Incommunicable desires
No longer latent
Unsuppressed is the disease
Of your discontent
Insufferable, forcible pain
Towards the ones loved most
Catatonic, embryonic
Feeble mind
Please save me from myself

Forgive me, father
For I know not what I do
Forgive me, mother
For I do not blame you

Plastic state of being
Suspended in the viscous
Coagulant of stolen thought
And free will
Drowning in my
Own enjoyment
Of self suffering

How will you remember me?
A trembling voice
To read my eulogy?

Forget the things I should have said
This demoness I've brought to bed
Speaking in riddles
Bewilderment of the senses
Deeper appreciation
For the subjugation of man

War criminals in suits
Pretentious, cowardly vestiges of man
Surrounded by an air of
Undeserved arrogance
Getting fat on young girls
Sending their children to war
Safeguarded by a desk
And the allure of change
Obscene, disgusting animals
Consuming their weight daily
In the profit of drugs and
Devised disease
Profiteers of death
Politicians work the corners

And I fall,
Too weak to carry on
Can't escape my own
Lonely, cold, loveless
Gaze
Black holes in my head
Leading into the depths of
My soul
Emptiness pervading
Madness running rampant
Destroying who I once was
Tearing to pieces
My uniqueness
Stripped of self
Thrown back to march
Within the masses
Towards impending demise

Staring into the eyes
Of the serpent
Turned to stone
Numb to emotion
Numb to pain
I cry out for substance
I miss the person
I used to be
The person you loved
Before you met me

Relieve me now of sin
Unto re-birthing, begin
Relieve me now of this burden
Knowledge and shame
Relieve me now of myself
And self inflicted pain

There it goes again
Making me feel dour
It doesn't feel good anymore
Purge me of this dependency
Ancient, carnal need
Necessity of loathing the infinitesimal

I've met the devil in my dreams
She looked a lot like you
Dreaming in wakefulness
Awakened desire in dreams
What is my intention?

Do I provide a function
Or functionally provide?
Are you living in a nightmare?
Have you gone to sleep and died?

Synesthesia upon awakening
My sensory perceptions
The permutation of the
Infinite

Children of the wilderness
Remove us from the
Impurities of societal disorder
Relieve us of the blandishment
Of media driven fallacies
As the masses are hoarded,
Spoon fed their own flesh,
And directed onward
By the pusillanimous grave robbers
Awarded with the title of
Government official
Given diplomatic immunity
And free reign over
The direction of our lives

There lies a serenity
Beneath the quiet surface
Of the ocean
The ocean floor is vast,
Uninhabited promise

I have developed an acute prescience
For what will come

Man unknowingly conspires
Against himself,
For the good of man
Cannot overcome
The evils of mankind
Conquering in the name of
Worthless ideals
And fruitless endeavors

Conforming to nonconformity
You're only fooling yourself

Wandering about in a dreamy state
With unexplained expectations
For some sort of happy outcome
Welcome to my nightmare
My inescapable kismet
Defend me from myself
I have become
My own worst enemy
Just a hyena looking for
A lions share
More animalistic than
A starving predator

Morally ambivalent
Acting upon
Inconclusive notions
There is no stability
In this loose earth
Sinking ever deeper
Into life unbeknownst
To me
Quicksand enveloping
Sanity and conscience
Leaving behind
Only memories of
What we ought to have
Become

Been suppressing emotion
For so long
Seems like forever
Since I've gone
Numb to the heartache
Blind to the happiness
Rediscovered childhood
At the end of my life

The words become a
Flowing river
My pen cannot dance
Quickly enough
To capture my
Escaping tongue

Discovering escape
Through self sufficiency

Sanity is nomadic
Traveling from
Person to person
Mind to mind
At any given moment
We are all insane
Began as a stream of consciousness and developed into a monster.
Korey Miller Oct 2012
stars and stardust fall to freedom
from the press corpse,
from the incessant demand of chemical crises.
crowds ache for love or a substitute
and false amore is what they have.
love is folie a deux-
[the shared madness of two.]
attachment is an affliction,
infatuation is disease leaping from remission,
with deadly symptoms.
red roses lead to black coffin doors,
roses dropped on floors
from vases shattered,
and life is the water spilling from the stems.

golden hair won't keep me docile-
blue eyes and a smile
are weapons of mass destruction-
cities sunk and flags risen
from the depths of inhumanity.
it's all for you, Helen, and humankind will never
perceive its aftereffects,
its hangover headache
sprawled over the world on a bad day.
little city partylights and shiny beer bottles
broken upon the concrete
covering the grass.
reflections of insanity upon the glass.

devilish, the temptress,
the succubus, a mistress
sent by Him, to spin doubt into
the spiderwebbed life of family trees
split in two by axes, divorces
to fifty percent, no-
no wedding band-aid will stop this flood.
abandonment.
neglect gets to a child's head-
can't help but wonder if
they were the cause of this.
little anchors,
keeping the heart in one place-
an anchored rubber band that demoness
stretched and snapped.
the relapse gave her whiplash, and
the stepdad whipped the boy's back, and
the boy grew up and
found a girl to take his pain to.
she gave him five stunted children,
with eyes hollow and glazed,
a mechanical response to a command.

lack of emotion only seems cruel
to those on the other side.
lack of flourish means nothing
to those who grew up to grey skies.

chains and handcuffs keep stardust grounded,
remains from a nebula which
birthed a black hole.
straight razors and pinky nails
teach fledglings to reach for the sky
and never fall back down.
glass ceilings never seemed so
breakable- tiptoe upsidedown
and reach the other side
before you fall back down to the real world.

angels have no eyes.
angels have no souls.
angels judge and leave the helpless for below.
cliffsides crumble and clouds dissipate,
and the devil lends a hand-
he is helping sinners make it up to him.
in his face sit eyes gleaming brightly;
there are teeth grinning, off-white-
he is human, though sadistic
and he understands your plight.
the devil is forgiving,
and you understand nothing, because you
are nothing.
you are nothing.

stars and stardust fall to freedom, and the devil takes in all.
Love** lost in dreams
Far away from the soul,
For the beauty of life is
Lost in my mind
Left lonely, in pain
This **** in my spirit
I've been unable to cleanse
Tired friend, fellow traveler
Grasp my hand and
Feel cruel death pervading
In this world, this land
Lies unknown evils
Forbidden to know
Or comprehend good
Underneath the wild, impassioned sky
Of centuries past
Wandering in ageless night
Searching for the end of sorrow
Scouring through the mystery
Of existence and free thought
Here comes the exhilaration of
The cosmic dance of eclectic vibrations
Playing memories of melodies
And deep seated wisdom
Just beyond the cusps of our fingers
Beyond long, satin dreams
Stuck moving with the flow of
My slowly beating heart
As earth ceases to spin
In a moment, my desire calms
I have found my true self
My autonomy will never die
My heart does not weigh me down anymore
Floating in a state of bliss
You are the one person I have left
The beauty who has never gone from my side
Who's jeweled eyes illuminate my being
Like the night skies over the glaring city lights
Who's smile transcends boundaries of this known world
No assembly of words can begin to express
How just your touch eases the minds of beasts
Simple, pure, ecstasy hovers
Over the flickering fires of her passion
Living in angelic state of being
She forces cries of beauty from blind men
Streaming light of wisdom across infinite universe
As I gaze upon the stars of her kindness
Forever embowered by her grace
I need every essence of her bliss
The apprehension of lover's souls
Lost in the innocence of lusting eyes
Things left hidden from the
Enslaved masses who lie
In solemn wait for a taste
Of what it feels like to be free
Uncertainty striking fear into their hearts
As they delve ever deeper
Scouring, searching for what has already found them
Where it has always remained
The children of the wilderness
Hold the forgotten key to eternity
Human nature, this disease of self strife
Has mankind drowning in
An imaginary state of grace
Impure manifestations of
Unknowingly self mutilating prose
The serpent slithers slowly around our being,
Wide eyed and calculated
Innately beasts, unable to quiet ravenous, lustful intentions
We have misplaced our senses
Flowing through the caverns of life blindly
No good intentions remain
Upon finding misconceived treasures
We trade our consciousness for infinitesimal belongings
And blame others for our own failings and insecurities
Unable to forgive ourselves for thieving
Virtues and conscience from future ages
Living in a world, surreal
Where beneath the surface of
Media driven fallacies is saved individuality
Locked and hidden away from the masses
Dreaming fantasies into reality
Embowered by your warm embrace
Seemingly discovered unrivaled pleasure
I hear your heart slowly beating our lives away
For the shed blood of our past lives
Is recycled now, "Alive!," she cried
Awakened in the midst of a dream
Locked somewhere inside myself
My mind scattered in too many worlds to work efficiently
How can I forget why I have made this journey?
Sailing along the sweet breath of angel's choir
No longer shall I fear the unknown
I will no longer be fed the harsh injustices and lies
Of this used up, barren world
Your kiss goes softly
Beyond my lips and into the depths of my soul
Still clutching the vine
Children breast fed insanity through soured milk
Question your own indecision
The disease of latent, lustful desires
Will tear apart your home
Down turned eyes in shame
Declaring war upon the unborn
Who drown in hatred
And the false sense of being loved
Forced to live their lives
Knowing nothing but childhood fantasies
Naivety forces a silent scream for knowledge
Breathe deeply the wonderment of the wilderness
Forcing blind eyes into the morals of mankind
Out of fear of being outcast and exiled
Build your stronghold out of a center of loyalty and honor
Your face inspires silent intrigue
The one true form not ruined,
Not stolen from the enigma of righteousness
By hate and fearful, dastardly instincts
Souls thrashing wildly, chaotic
With no sense of direction
Unfortunately, this kismet cannot be deemed unjust
Deserving to walk hand in hand with death
The curse of falling just short of our desires
Left shaking in the cold, unrelenting world of lust and betrayal
No concept of real and surreal any longer
Shamans have foretold of such disasters
The walls of sanity crumbling before our eyes
Louder beats the heart of your discontent
Finding delight in mankind's incurred demise
Wiping sweat from the brows of beasts
The wandering eye innately searching for new meat
Millions expended in lustful quest
Enticing is the unquenchable thirst of desire
Shall I forever bear your cross of hate?
The last piece of my soul glimmers as it is ravaged by your touch
The last of my affection and love I shall bury
Where no light may shimmer
Guarded with riddles and bewilderment
Never finding a source of betterment
Killing who I once was
In order to erase the pain you cast upon me
The pain that forces grown men to fall upon knees
With black rose, she replied
"I give you my body, but never my heart"
Drowning in a chemical waste of salaciousness
My free will, stolen and hauled away
Pilfering my comprehension of life and love
Whispering sweet deceit unto the minds of our own flesh
Calling upon plastic deities and iconoclastic idols
Forcing weakness into humanity through the misrepresentation of free will
Shivering in the cold seasons of deceit
Watching as forlorn mothers give up unborn children
Their sorrow unites them under heavy skies
Huddled together, alone
Feeling only emptiness and shame
Fear pervading, bounding between broken hearts
Flesh ripped from beating flesh
Doomed to eternal anguish and unrest
Hearts heavy, forced to hold onto such misery
When shall revelation come?
The magnificence of beginning anew
Tired searches through tangled fates
Pretentious beings, undeserving of finding true love
Walking along the periphery of sadness
Unheard, undiscovered point of view
Falsification of our spirituality
Throwing stones at our creator
Yet, punishment still incomprehensible to blinded masochists
Continually directed towards evil by greed
Altruism has become incommunicable
Races ******, faking sorrow for a moment in the spotlight
Consciences left muddied with sin
Sensory perceptions dulled
Forced to sit idly by
While the moon changes the tides of my mind
A single cloud hangs drearily over my sorrows
This demoness from my nightmares
Trickles unknowingly into my reality
No immunity from one's own self demise
Plastic, insincere smiles forecast  
The ambivalent duality of man
We must defend each other from ourselves
Called upon to fight in this never ending battle
False accusations leveling the playing field of life
Flirting with the mystics of forgotten lore
The selfish needs of the human race left behind
Calmly we enter the palace of love
This castle, a fortress built on trust  
A reincarnation of innate, preternatural passion
Don't look upon the horizon for the answers of today
Find knowledge in the sullied, torn pages of history's lament
Waving excitedly, temptation captures our gaze
Awaiting a destiny that will sever supreme consciousness
Uneducated decisions made presiding over the life of another
No being will notice the face of pain in the unborn
Soiled our own goods with haste
Unable to understand the beauty of life
We are all criminals by nature
This wasteland does portend a future of destruction
Promised acquittal of our betrayal by men made of stone
We toss away our dignity in a mask of inebriation
Where does the gray lead the ******?
Psychotropic prescience of our kismet
The smile of the fallen angel looks hauntingly familiar
The permutation of lies through a thin film of comfort
I will be awaiting your arrival
In my final hour of being
Instant gratification has interlocked us with the ******
Fight through the coagulant of chaos and beg for a second chance
The thoughts of unknown genius have reinvented our race
A false sense of virility plagues the minds of the inebriated
My fervent heart beating ever more quickly with your supple touch
My eyes dive and dart away from the injurious visions of jealously
Awaiting my reincarnate reprise of rebirth
Flirtatiously, we whisper tender lies of affection
Her gaze looked deeply towards my inner being
As my emotional barriers fade into oblivion
Her smile holds the secrets of the infinite
Mortal issues seem insignificant as I
Began to brush away hair from her face
A predator tamed by acts of kindness and love
Her soft lips of silk tantalize my senses
I have fallen ill for lack of her touch
This worlds creates untold bewilderment
Of the feeble minds who inhabit it
An aching, lachrymose gaze I wear
Irrevocable damage forced upon the life I could not bear
This piece was created using my own "Words Used" page.  The **bold** words are from the list.  I have set some rules for myself:  I was not allowed to change the order of the words in the list, the words were not allowed to be altered in any way, and each line of the piece required a minimum of one word and a maximum of two words from the list.  Enjoy.
Toxic yeti Apr 2019
As I sleep
I dream I was visiting
A friend
Alas I She comes
Closer she becomes
This tantric demon
Trying to choke me
Wakes me up
From a death like sleep.
Radwan Jun 2010
I made a new friend today. She's a devil, making a lair of the details.
Her first words bound me in her spell,
Her first gesture captivated my soul.
Turning my frown upside down was her first concern.
The sun shown above, hot and flirty, blinding me with her enthusiasm.
Stepping in her way, my friend gave me back my sight.
Gratefully, I smiled and looked her in the eye.

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
Her eyes were red and her hair was too
Long and graceful, it flowed down her neck and spread over her bare shoulders.
Flirting with the winds, locks of her hair seemed to dance in the sun's light.
She cast no shadow and bore no weight on the earth's face.
Standing weightless she floated in place.

I made a new friend today, while resting from the day's labors.
In the shade of my favorite tree, I was sitting, breathing heavily with a death stick in my hand.
My gaze shifting madly while my mind was drifting steadily farther from the scene.
Another day was almost over...
Taking heed of the greenery
Taking my fill of the fresh air
Knowing that my concrete hive awaits my return.
Then she came, blocking out the setting sun.
Tall and slender she rose over me.
Her form redefined what I knew of elegance.
The beauty looked down to me, then came down to meet my gaze.
Her scent filled my head and brought it ever so slightly higher.
Her eyes laid claim to mine.
They glimmered like rubies and for a moment, her eyes were all I could see. Then the rest of her face caught my eye.

She was everything that I was not.
She was fair and smiling, I was dark and weary.
Light and loose, her dress spoke of her freedom,
while mine wreaked of aspesis and death.
Her face was smooth and clear,
while mine was wrinkled and rough.
Her eyes had clear whites and ruby red irides
Mine were the blood shot whites and the yellow irides.
Half a mind there, with the other blank and clear.
Below her I was sitting, receptive and calm.
She put her left hand on my right shoulder...
No words were yet uttered.
I thought; good things come to those who wait,
and wait I did, this opening line is hers.
Let her use it as she sees fit. I hope she would...
I only hope she is mindful of her words.
I only hope she speaks.
Her lips moved and her voice danced.
Into my skull her words raced.
"I came for you. I come bearing a light for your mind.
I come bearing knowledge for your longing.
I come in answer to your prayers."

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
Her first words bound me in her spell.
Turning my frown upside down was her first concern.
and on she went with her opening line.
"Here only for you.
Our differences may be numerous,
But I size them up with no displeasure.
Our differences may be many,
But still I come to your aid.
Son of Adam, I am here to provide for you and only for you.
I provide comfort when none can be found.
I provide company when no one is around.
I provide wisdom when your wits scatter about."

"A rather lengthy opening line there." was the first thought that came to my mind.
"you speak in riddles and claim to bear subjects for my passion, and answers to my questions.
Claiming to have knowledge of my persona.
My dreams, you claim to know and understand.
Who are you ? or better yet, What are you ?
You bear in your hand only a single fruit, a glistening green apple.
Time's passing left no marks on your face or voice.
Your complexion tells me you live a life of luxury; elegant and powerful, your arrival caught me off guard.
You were kind enough to reveal the purpose of your visit to me in your first words.
I find your honesty appealing,
your voice comforting,
your sight mesmerizing,
but my eyes never fool me and they tell me that you're not human; nothing like myself."
My reply came swiftly, though not needed, as I came to know later on. Our conversing was but a formality, for her at least, I on the other hand knew of no other method of communication.
Though eloquent and infinitely flexible, my tongue's expressive potential was still limited.
Limited by my humanity; its actions were governed by a despot.
And limitation's despotism seemed to never waver.

Again her voice rose, tempting and dizzying me;
"Son of Adam, I am not of your species.
You asked what I am and I will provide you with an answer.
I am not human, not belonging to this plane of existence. I concede to none of the laws to which you concede.
I may be the first of my kind to cross paths with you, but be assured, you are not the first of your kind to cross paths with me.
I am essentially a being of the ethereal realm.
I come from a different world
Where reality and fantasy exist side to side
I have been called many names... Demoness, Devil, Temptress, Goddess.
A human's demise, Lust's incarnate.
You may use whichever you like of them."

I clung to silence for a second, then gave her my answer.
"The names you've provided me with all seem to hold no meaning for you.
They were all used by predecessors to myself, I am sure. And I suppose that's the reason you chose to suggest them to me."
Slowly and silently, she nodded; non of them held any meaning for her.
"I care not for formalities and I care not for my predecessors.
I will use whatever name you use.
If you would allow it."

Her voice came in a whisper.
"I will only agree if you vow never to share it with another. For unlike yours, mine was brought into existence with my creation. It is as much a part of me as I am a part of it, and it is mine and mine alone to dispense of or reveal."
For a moment, I considered my situation, it seems I am as much her destiny as she is mine... or at least part of it. I was tempted by her offer and pleased by her sincerity, her apparent decency.
"I agree to your terms, I vow never to speak of it. Now tell me!"

And tell me she did.
Speak of it I won't.
She revealed it as promised
So share it I can't.

"My name is my power, it holds my soul and my mind.
Son of Adam, I know of your longing.
I came in answer to your calling
I heard all your silent thoughts
I heard all your questions
They reached my ears wherever I roamed, and I have come to you."

I made a new friend today.
She is everything that I am not.
By her name I could call her when nobody else ever could.
She was desire in the flesh...
My solitude she wished to crush
My thirst she hoped to quench.

"Oh, but solitude is good for the soul, my friend. Solitude is my ground... my grind.
And though I long, you can never satisfy me, my friend.
I long not for answers or keys, but an end to the questions, the master key to this infernal maze of a world. For what is life if not a pensione? vacant rooms, all locked, or wishing not to be disturbed.
What are the people we know if not transients? They book, move in, stay, then leave... Like tourists, lazy, dumb and gullible idiots.
Do you wish to be one of said jokers and frauds?"

Her face was unchanged.. she seemed not to be bothered by my last ultimatum, and her voice again came to me, clear and calm, "Son of Adam, I wish not to devalue your dilemma, but it is you who is transient here, not me. Your likes never last, and to the next world you will soon undoubtedly be cast."

"Good point... that makes me the only candidate for such hypocrisy.... Then tell me, how do you intend to aid me? Out with your secrets my friend."
Friends, Solitude, Beauty
Valarola Nikola Nov 2018
How do you live with hate so deep,
It chokes you like clogged arteries,
And all you want is to look in the mirror,
And not see yourself as a living monster,
So can someone show me how to forgive,
Yourself for the most heinous of sins?
Because right now all I can do is die slowly,
Living in a body with a soul rotting so,

Please forgive me, please don't hate me,
Please erase this feeling that I can't see,
It's so much easier to fight something corporal,
That's why I've been up myself day after day.

The pills I swallow in the hopes I won't wake up,
From this nightmare that's swallowed me whole,
I live every day just waiting for retribution,
From the person I hurt, because I can't find resolution,
In no consequences for what I did, because of my demoness,
Who ate me up and spit me out when I was barely older than six,
And she was like a vampire infecting me with a disease,
Now I'm infected just like her, except maybe with more remorse,

Please forgive me, please don't hate me,
Please erase this feeling that I can't see,
It's so much easier to fight something corporal,
That's why I've been up myself day after day.
Sam Miller Sep 2012
When you see her
walking down the street,
swaying those wide luscious hips,
you just know.

This girl
with her long cherry curls
and her icy blue eyes,
she’s the beauty and the beast all in one
sinfully delicious package.

This girl makes your heart
crash into your ribcage like a wrecking ball,
stopping you in your tracks
and stealing your breath away
like the succubus she knows she is.

This girl with full pink lips,
skin smooth as white marble,
and a stare that could paralyze and excite
all at the same time.

This girl promises beauty
but baby you’re gonna get
a lot more than you bargained for
if you try to cross this demoness.

This girl is your gorgeous nightmare,
horror wrapped up in a **** package
with a shiny red bow and stiletto heels.

With those curves in your hands,
thinking is out of the question.
There’s only passion, blind lust,
because if you let her go then
you seriously ****** up.

She’s everything you could ever want,
Begging and demanding
As she writhes underneath you and on top of you.
You never stood a chance.

This girl is a living breathing Greek goddess,
all *** and power and unimaginable beauty.
I cannot being to truly describe her,
Because as much as I hate to admit it,

She doesn’t exist.

She is mine,
my creation, my Eve.
Existing only in my fiction,
She is still very real to me.
She lives inside of me,
Breathing and speaking and loving and hating
And I just want to hold her close and keep her with me forever.
Hadrian Veska Feb 2017
In my dreams does she walk
With unparalleled beauty
And the horns of demons
Adorning her head

I know her intent
To ****** me to darkness
And though I'm aware
I do nothing to stop her

Perhaps because I pity her
And hope I can save her
More than likely though
I've already fallen

Under her dark spell
Monica Raye May 2011
I can't force myself to understand
How the world could contain such sinful beauty.
A smear of curvy tan
Framed by black waves
Two specks of blue
And maybe,
Just maybe,
A shade of... Magenta?
Such lusciousness is dipped and coated
In kindness and love
With a dash of humor
And a pinch of brilliance.
I wish this demoness
Would wrap herself around me
Embrace my flaws
With her perfection.
Valarola Nikola Feb 2019
You keep fighting your imaginary demons,
Well I'll be here fighting my very much so real ones,
They stalk me in the night time,
They cling to me in day time,
They're my shadow when I don't have one on the ground,
And they are the thoughts that I have to keep shooting down,
Or else I might just wind up on the side of the road,
Bullet in my skull, feet covered in roses,
Because if I'm going out, I'm going out in style,
And with nothing less than a smile,

Because I was here, and I was tainted,
And I was naive once, before she was created,
So here I am ***** and used,
Waiting for someone to look at me like I'm new,

I once believe everything that came out of everyones mouth daily,
But I haven't been like that since the snap of a cameras lens,
Since the sound of my childhood crashing and burning,
On the ground, ashes scattered, each one a lesson I was learning,
A hard fought battle I had won, and now I'm damaged goods,
No good to anyone, except to be tossed aside and abused,
Because you're a con artist,
And let's not forget a *******,
A demoness who prays on children with her golden hair,
Made out of lies that have been prepared,

I was here, and I was tainted,
And I was naive once, before she was created,
So here I am ***** and used,
Waiting for someone to look at me like I'm new,

I'm here, I'm tainted,
I'm still naive, even after all that she created,
I'm here ***** and used,
Just tell me, just look at me like I'm new.
Tamal Kundu Dec 2016
The last time I had seen this particular cousin of mine, I was still in college and he had a head full of hair. In between, there had been three funerals, two weddings and four births in our Trojan royalty of a family. I had been a university graduate for a year, and the prospect for a job, a decent one at that, had started to grow dimmer by the day. He asked, “Will you tutor my daughter?” “Yes!” I said. And we set out immediately. He, on his bike and I, on my motorcycle following him. We took a right turn at the famous landmark of the statue of demoness Putana, sitting on the grass with her ***** out and legs spread forward. He introduced me to his wife and daughter. Telling them to stand side by side, he told me, “She's only eleven, but look at her! Already equal in length and width to her mother, who is no delicate petal herself. Do you think you can teach her GK?”

The universe wasn't made with dissent. Plus, the chicken samosas were really delicious. I tried on a grin while the overachieving pre-teen bustled around the room showing me her accolades for painting, singing, studying. As I left he pointed at a tree, “Do you know what tree is that?”

“Bael?” I answered thoughtfully.

“Apple. That's an apple tree.”

“Oh! Does it bear fruits?”

“Not in this climate!” He laughed out loud.
Form: Prose Poetry
Toxic yeti Mar 2019
Right between the borders
Of Turkestan
And Tibet
There in the remote regions
There lives a demon
Female
With one eye in one socket
And a flower in the other
Scarred
Waunds all over her
Beautiful face
And body
It’s said that this
Demon
Comes when people are
Oppressed
And suffering
To reak havoc on
The tormentors
Through disease.
Tori Valentine Nov 2013
What did I do?
To deserve this bruise
I thought I was your little princess
But now I'm a little demoness

I've loved you, Daddy, with all my heart
Even when you would hit me, throw me, hurt me
I forgave you from the very start
But you continued to abuse me

You called me 'worthless,' and 'a waste of time,'
Made me cry for having a different mind
Put me down emotionallly
And yet, I still forgave you immediately

For all this time I cried at night
All those day I sat with such a fright
I still forgive you, you hear
I still love you, Daddy dear.
I keep going back to my dad even though he hurts me, I don't know why.
© All rights reserved to Victoria C. F.
Hadrian Veska Jul 2017
In secret they met
To profess their love
The hero and the demoness

Though they knew it strange
And frowned upon
They couldn't bear being apart

Once the gods learned
Of this forbidden taboo
They tore the two lovers away

In the depths below
They chained the girl
Deathless to suffer alone

They killed the hero
For his grevious sin
And banished his immortal soul

With no concept of time
The demoness cried out
For her lover that she had lost

Not knowing his death
Had come and since past
Many long ages ago

In time she was forgotten
By both gods and men
And hatred grew in her heart

She promised the herself
A revenge complete
Not matter how long it may take

So breaking her shackles
She rose from the earth
On a march of war to the heavens
IV4 Oct 2015
crucify me upside down      
on Lucifer's spiked ****      
taking Him down my throat      
        
impaling my intestines      
with His forked member      
drinking demonic *****      
        
I spit the bloodied truth      
from the pit below      
my eyes cherry red      
        
fed the secrets of the ******      
they **** my soul      
entering roughly        
        
blackness pours forth      
I want to bathe you        
in the acidic waters      
        
of my lust for evil incarnate      
it washes over me      
like dark death      
        
enters all of my orifices      
*******, torturing      
making me writhe and moan  
        
there is a man walking among us      
scythe in hand      
carving his dark art        
        
on the tender folds of my ***** lips      
making me cream out desire for him      
chained to him from the nether world      
        
I submit willingly      
this is his dominion        
dark overlord      
        
he sees this demoness      
in his periphery        
invoking legion      
        
to make me ***      
on hands and knees      
awaiting my punishment        
        
for being so weak      
manacled to the rack      
he enters my bloodied ****      
        
pounding out his hunger
with carnal, primal need      
his message is clear      
        
***** you will obey me      
I see and know you      
crucified on Lucifer's cross      
        
you are mine
dedicated to my lover
Everybody come on,
Get a gather in,
As we still tackle the sins,
Of every day living,
Avoid Robyn Givens,
Tryna get moneys from
Me to give in,
Dismissed my old religion,
Watch for pigeons,
Peep death walking around
Corners,
Cuz the next day they'll
Mourn ya,
Then forget about ya,
But back to life,
Daily Struggles and hustle in the same
Sentence,
Born intelligence, my father became,
Negligence,
Moms had them dollars spent,
Couldn't see where the money
Was bent,
Too much dreaming, folks mostly individuals, far from teamin'
Plot the scheming,
Like Kenan,
Ivory Wayans, all across ya brain,
I come with the thunder and rain,
Calm ya soul,
Relax as I take control,
Neo soul,
Only cherish the bold,
And beautiful, despise rap guys,
Who spit pitiful,
Kin to the Howlin' Wolf spiritual,
Tasted a spoonful,
Of my money, now I want nothing
To do with honeys,
Through the pleasures, sticky and sweet
Satisfaction to my meat,
Wait let's keep it clean
For the radio,
Can't banned this jam, played it,
Til I cops ya mental,
Grooves sentimental,
Lauryn Hill giving the thrills, over the
Track you feel,
Rest in peace to the massacred victims,
From past through,
The Future millenniums,
Millennial madness, depression raised
To the highness,
Meditate to Mary sparkling like
A disco,
Ball everyday dejavu back to dance hall,
I remember all,
My grand mothers to pappys, all celebrated
And happy,
Now most people are ******,
Can't get help for ****, only
If you down for the corporate,
Dead man walking with a company,
Watch them put you on a rate,
Slaves ain't went no where,
Taxes famine to warfare, stay focused
On truths and not dare,
As the snare,
Puts you in a mellow mood, I stay positive and away from the crude,
Attitudes, Sun Tzu official,
Still tryna stay from the airhead judicial,



Flashes of pictures,
Throwing up the peace signs,
Nothing but end times,
I'm on god lines,
Twelve disciples followed by me,
With armed rifles,
Spartan tactics, got critics
Doing back flips,
Stick to the script,
Word to the mothership,
I came off of,
It's love all else and nothing
Above,
Defense like the glove,
Come push and shove,
I'll die for my brothers, sisters
And others,
Who's down, couldn't wear the crown,
Too heavy it weighs,
Sunk down like maydays,
Back in the days,
I used to wanna be the brother
Who was paid,
Fantasy themes, got me caught
In the lustful things,
Everything ain't what it seems,
Lot of Willie Browns, looking for
Their soul, in the middle of a round,
Now where don't care,
Only at the crossroads if you dare,
Demoness with breast,
Beautiful hair, long stare,
Don't get caught, lookin' at the Medusa glare,
**** turned into stone,
Chills through my bones,
Vibin' off of the tones, voices made of Baritone,
Band played on,
Once I found right, it seems to follow wrong,
Blessed are the children,
Who see scares before, war is
Summoned,
Pitching different strokes, call me
Phil Drummin',
Hummin' my way through this slave
Essence,
My presence is shown,
Once I get on,
Beats for my vocals to meet,
Put so perfectly,
Enjoy the breeze and the weather,
No bragging hypes,
Just a poet, with the verbal snipe,
Check it, i hope yall understand me,
Like 19 keys, cop a few cuties out in Belize, please believe,
Money comes first, then the power,
To get enemies showered,
Well under and devoured,
I took a pinch of the flowers,
Scented in the garden of edem,
People saying dont believe em,
And i dont care if they don't feel em,
I got ninth dimensions, casting spells,
Putting marks on shells,
Nightmares of the holy grail,
Only time will tell,
Is my soul free or is it for sell?,
Valuable lessons, learned quick,
From gripping the smiff and lessons,
Knuckleheads getting a blessing,
Then have the nerves,
To say they stressin,
Never undermind a blessing, and curse to gift of guessin',
In this game of life, aint no fair shake
With the hand rolls on the dice,
Shorty looking nice, but i see the slit tongue spliced,
Demoness with breast, rising from the east to the west,
I manifest, only the realness when herbs fills within my chest,
Only reggies the best,
Dont **** with the kush, get ya soul pushed,
Back into other ****, thays counterfeit, money in my hands giving flips,
To stacks of hundreds, while im a slave to the hundred,
Years of freedom, went from the chattery, to the corporate daily,
Reporting to masters its crazy,
Broke the chains, of misery,
Now im lazy, nothing these days phase me,
Radio airways dont play me,
Realness is a menace to truth, i preach the gospel, with lonely tear drops,
Til i open the eyes of rhe youth,






Moneys the universal language,
Or better yet linguistics,
Hoes wana grab the biscuit,
Like they owning it,
But i stay showing it,
See how the loot, make hoes go round,
Carousel bound, like earth making its rounds,
Joker splitter, see the hitman markers his hitter,
Giving bodies jitters,
Like when im on the mic,
I treat it right,
Flip more rhymes than tongues to ****,
Better yet let it hang like Mike,
On a fadeaway, begans the takeway,
Fools putting false reps like MLK,
Say,
They down for the community,
But all i see piercing,
In the community,
Gangs and ****, sold out for cheap hits,
No leaders, just a bunch of court cases,
And the biggest killers always remain faceless,
Danny Wolf Jul 2019
Today is filled with headaches and their residuals,
with tears I wish I knew how to cry.
I keep ripping up fresh healed wounds
so at least I can feel something.
Have all of me,
because I know I’m not here to stay -
can stitch it up and refill later.
I’m full with emotions that I know all too well.
I feel too big to hide within myself.
I feel you sticking in my lungs (I can’t breathe).
My body turning against me
Demanding to be heard.
Soon there will be a ringing in my head,
knives at the womb -
twisting, ripping free,
cause my heart can’t help but hold on.
Will she rage at me again?
     I’m sorry.
I’m always sorry -
     for you, for being too much, for taking
     it to heart, for loving, for-giving.
Never for myself.
I do not deny that
I know my body language
and I know when I’m not listening.
I know my demons by design
and I know when they are starving.
My own hands feed them,
invite them to the table.
Too busy distracting myself from the things I know are good for me.
That love I want is far.
That love I need staring back at me.
Her hands, reaching out,
she feels the cold
and is pushing through,
reaching into abysmal distance
for something to take hold.
To pull me back home.
Voices I wish I didn’t want to hear
are singing and enchanting me.
I’m left to face this age old Demoness,
withstanding the trials of time.
Tell me what you feed upon
and I’ll serve you on a silver platter.
Nourish you so I’m not eating away at myself.
I’m afraid of any more withering.
They tell me the world is round but I look around
See nothing but flat grounds laying around
See we living in three dimensional prison mental
Arrested our cells can't see heaven through hell
Thought I failed tryna make bail but always fail
Cuz of the sinister society quitely I see them
Eyeing me pleas of insanity mentally
I cross the physical realms longer ago through portals
I transported my souls retaliated when I was an embryo
Sitting as a cellular organism waiting to grow
Out comes the pain I cried with no tears
There goes my fear embedded before I was credited
Got charged with a felony debt expense
It's too intense radiation prolong my residence
On Earth I was ready to die once I took my first breath
I'm still envisionin' chaos in the land of the lost
It's hard to be a boss when they constantly keep
Me at a loss I refuse selling my soul for high cost

My only pain remedy is to leave a bullet in me
Head shot I'm dead off to rot missed the cots
And three meals this ain't a freestyle drill
Living out the last of the centuries
Will
And still we aim to **** but how when I'm filled with
Gloomy days taking over my positive ways
Negative always love to stay and gets me to sway
Into the darkness which is my closeness
My best thoughts that brought me happiness
See a shaft of light for my soul sun kissed I'm focused
My energy on the afterlife awaiting at the purgatory
At my own suspense fools chase dollaz and cents
A dumb man's gold soon to fold let the scrolls
Unravel as wisdom lays across my mental tabernacle
And travels to infinite and beyond let bygones
Be bygones my words leeched to ya brain cells  like a
python
We strong as Teflon so keep holding on
To that fallacy many guys like me see
The world for what it really is even the kids
Is Diggin' early graves suicide only saves
The souls but leave family with pain galore
From the sky's floor I walk on get my floss on
Cloud nine was a place id always wanna be
A quick rush of ecstasy so don't be mad at me
Cuz i see the afterlife demoness as my wife
I accept the charges pending put an ending
To this chapter that didn't even make the beginning
Only way we see ourselves free is sinning
Lusting is a ***** of temptations leave ya thoughts
Puzzled like its a bad situation with much hesitation
somebody say mayday mayday getting praise always
Replays of my word plays mind's decayed delayed
Sick with the pen let my mind coast within sip gin
I'm just a **** tryna enter a hen but then again
That's how I got here through a bullets tears hard years
Strained on my life wish I could break the tech infants
hearts ain't even get a pump yet injected threats
poisoned by the tree fruits ain't never gone ripe
Too hype check the scope of my snipe pipes clogged
Pedigrees dug deep soon to weep cattle the sheep
Peep the scenery through greenery operate
The machinery its too much niggardry ya see?????


Snakes love to stick our  their tongues sprung hung
Off of the bongs **** on my chest like king kong
Beating brains seating warming up thoughts
In this cold world mind's in swirl third eyes pearls
Sparklin' like suns off a diamond twirl as i hurl
Over the gutters feeling like no other brothers
sisters and brothers watch the medias smothers
destroy image instantly in a flash split to a ****
Can't move without legal tender cash let 'em bash
Me but I'll still rise above the insanity the man in me
vanish the tarnish non conformist leechin' harness
I say the darnest
Things sippin' green a hulk incredible unedible
My styles hit harder than accapellas no beats
Only when I'm between the sheets greets
spiritual residence let the beautiful cadence
Radiance the Kundalini dance no chance to romance
A demoness this is poltergeist everyday heist
This is troubles of my damaged rose peddle life
Unmatched talents street swift ballad novel
Poet you know you love it above it critics hove it
Can't shove it sitting on a decree dark energy
Wind symphony followed me since I was a baby
Lately been craving philosophies of lost dynasties
Silly me petty folks love to leech freely easily
I'm copping venomous situations no salutations
Switch the radio stations cuz they be hating faking
Saying they support the real when promote steel
Only the reals feel my tears touching the ground
Funeral e-motions coasting above the surface
Trust me I speak from the heart aint got no sparks
Beef at ease ceased by trees of life born breeze
Tease by the subconscious speaking existence
Reality space algorithms prism sitting comfy
Social distance battling myself guard my health
Can't help if I'm at a stance with stealth welp
Looking for a savior ands it's only me who save me
Jesus been failed since the ships sailed no bail
Ever fail economy siting like a coiled snail
Snakes in grass amongst the mass all about cash
Chasing sky scrapin' tap the metals for body chaffin'
Coffin flow love above below see the sun's pour
Out radiation skin rotation molecular sanitation


Born in Houston flash rockets shooting booting
Out hataz they can't out weigh us money craters
Never chase copper led giving the best taste late
Night hypes it was all a dream rushed minds dope fiend
Itching hands twitching looking for the pitch in
Waiting to a catch a break from fate **** it's too late
Activate the lyrics sitting off in my crate annihilate
The Roman State empire true desire wildfire flower
Demoness breathing mist of a kiss coldest dish
Ain't served on a platter watch the lives shatter
Chit chatters eat so much beef they'll grow fatter
I'm speaking consciously wisely choosey as the Isley
Lover to undercover mother's spread my oats
This ain't a gloat make em sing more than high notes
Spread wisdom every chance I get looking for a witch-
Craft mental blood baths over murderous thoughts
Chalked out negativity no sensitivity ever in the city
Show no emo like Gulliani on 2001 conspiracy
I'm tryna make Governor moves keep the needle to the groove
Off beat on beat
Delete repeat chaos horrors of the obsolete complete
Chaining intervention dimensions strengthen
As tensions rose to it's toes **** near airborne
A star born Iraqi veteran this ain't no competition
Finish the mission draw first blood Rocky drilling
Militant minds stay ahead behind enemies lines
Do dirt don't recognize til ya got closed eyes
Casket filled with tears of weep storms hovering
Tryna be black Jesus crucify us daily mentally
Will I ever get to see the tender age of thirty three???

— The End —