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M Harris Mar 2017
Butterfly Desires & Fictional Highs,
Magnetic Spells In Her Emerald Eyes,
Bleeding Perpetual Fire & Toxic Cries.

Lucid Screams Of Her Plastic Love,
Paper Towns & Serenity Above,
Refracting Into An Apocalyptic Dove.

Postcards Of Her Estranged Serenity,
Diffusing Into Polaroids Across Infinity,
Rhythms Of Lusts Erupting Obscenity.

Bluest Shade Of Her Misguided Confessions,
Uncharted Fragments Amplifying Obsessions,
Profane Prodigies Detonating Desecrations,

Digital Dreams & Fictional Desires,
3D Symphonies Inside Her Crystal Wires,
Purple Streams Translating Fires.

Tunnel Visions Transmitting Reality,
Suicidal Trance & Static Eternity,
Molotov Solution Is Her Lighthouse Of Ecstasy.

- 04:19AM -
Who was the person in  Colonel Muammar Gaddafi
Was he a deadly Libyan tyrant as the west put
and dictator as the Western media and press
oftenly portrayed him  , here and there
as power voracios bent on assuming the leadership
of the Arab world and super sahara socialite
in the stamapede  of Gamal Abdul Nasser?
That Gaddafi was a driven and desperate man,
what a cruxificative tribe  of  question,

he gloriusly deposed King Idris
from the then rotting  Libyan throne,
President Habib Bourguiba of Tunisia
omenously  warned him that he had to stretch
  miles and whatever to go before he could claim,
to be un fettered  successor to Nasser's sceptre,


Gaddafi was a wildly and spotlessly  popular
among the Libyan masses,the earth's wretched,  
and even those in the rest of the revolutionary  world,
till the eyesore of his brutal ******,
  the tragics and haunting episodes,
of his life points clearly to the   truth of  truth:
  Gaddafi was a reasonless  hunted man
they way bin Laden was labbelled to be hunted,
for so he was a hunted man.

Gaddafi never had the time or the leisure
to do anything but run, but run and run
as an escape to hell, a clear testament
in his classical poetic, quilled properly
behind the dunes of the sahara desert,
His parting shots were true essence
of his compassion and generosity  to humanity,
a humongous  gift of a soccer stadium to Pakistan,
a plan to gift thousands of computers and laptops
to schoolchildren in  idyllic poor African countries,
and dollops of oil aid to poor Arab countries.

were these not totally dispassionate acts
For the Colonel was trying to build a support ,
and network throughout the  revolutionary world
because he was actively tracked and pursued
by the English and French dogs of ******,
tacitly supported by the United States.

The Western powers were committed to teeth,
to removing Gaddafi from his genuine power
lest he prove troublesome to currents of avarice
in furthering their interests in the oil imperialism,
for his daring rhetoric and outlandish capers
were sharp pedagogies to the oppressed.

western powers moaned and yelled doggishily,
for cheap Libyan oil well and item markets,
for  construction and drilling projects,
English and French origin companies
as well as American multinationals,
moaned daily  like female hyenas
when they  stood to lose  monetary gain,
if  Gaddafi remained entrenched in holy life
and  in power as the arbiter of Libya's destiny.

but that indeed was the holy  mandate
he had from the Libyan masses of peasants
even though it was imperially  questioned
by those of his cowardly enemies
moving in tandem  with cosmetics
of capitalism and burgeosie  development.

Gaddafi ****** the French presence in Chad,
as he did roundly criticize the United States
over its foreign policy of Bullish syndrome,
as he gloriously  shielded  the two Libyans
who were  accused without forgiveness
of plotting  and carrying out vietnam like bombing
of an American passenger jet over Lockerbie
in Scotland that led to Kissinger like  killings,
of hundreds of innocent civilians like in Vietnam.

History is yet to absolve Gaddaffi,
to glorify the dreamer with poetry in his eyes
who composed escape to hell in a desertly week,
exculpating him off false accussations,
of committing a crime of such magnitude,
good consicence must question the role of Jews.

It was only the status and stature
of Nelson Mandela as  a fellow comrade,
that managed to implore  the Colonel
to hand over the two accused Libyans
to the International Court of Justice
to face trial or even forgiveness,
The whole sordid drama of the Lockerbie bombing
is an enigma wrapped in mystery, jewish tricks center stage,
Sooner or later, posterity will  absolve out
with the truth and  save Gaddafi's name
and honor as leader of  the voiceless.

President Ronald Reagan did not even wait a little
before he launched those deadly missile strikes
against Libya,  against Gaddafi's private quarters,
to **** Gaddaffi's beggotten  daughter.

Was this not a base and cowardly
act unworthy of America and its great traditions,
Gaddafi, like Saddam, was a victim of labbelling
by  Western media who had painted his character
with satanic evil and malice , as if evil is alien to them,
even when there was no genuine evidence
to justify such a heinous depiction
  Gaddafi was seen to act irrationally,
was supposed to have mental delusions
why not  being mentally unstable!

Gaddafi's antics inspired acts of conscience
and a genuine and fitting response to a life
lived under mortal fear and terror  of terror
the fear of being tracked and hunted down
by Western agents who were out to eliminate him
with full backing from their governments.

Gaddafi, like Saddam  was not a criminal
although all sorts of demonic tendencies
were attributed to both leaders by the Western press,
All sorts of media scoops were ceaslessly  hatched
and all kinds of media blitzes  were  mercilesly launched
to create Muslim helots who overthrew Gaddafi,
and pursued him in armored cars and trucks
to his hometown Sirte deep in the Libyan Desert,
That he was killed with such horrible cruelty
with bayonets and gunshots,
pumped into his royal  head
such  is evidence that his assailants,
were  not  true Muslims whatsoever !

These enemies were petty paid murderers
and butchers who after the dastardly act,
proudly displayed Gaddafi's body
in a meat shop kept open for public viewing,
By committing these very desecrations
Gaddafi's foes had unwittingly revealed
their true un-Islamic and butcherous natures .

And what were Gaddafi's last pearlish words
to his assailants when he lay writhing in pain of death
on the ground unable to move because of the mayhems
of his injuries and wounds: WHAT DID I DO TO YOU?
Gaddafi had died like a Muslim Christ
on the American  cross with no words of abuse
or blame for his enemies, as they knew not
whatever the folly the were executing.

History will have to wait for generations
before another soldier and such a  leader
of Qaddafi's ilk and human  mettle surfaces
again  in the poor man's  world
to bravely  taunt the West
for its imperial perfidy and cowardice.
Brandon Aug 2012
My boat is broken. 
Pieced together from shipwrecks I've caused
Pieced together with the wretched lives I've taken. 
Ancient decrepit wood
nailed on in disjointed configurations. 
Puzzle pieces that don't quite fit right.
My flags are tattered and torn 
black, and ghostlike
barely strung together
and hanging from mangled masts. 
On the bow is a twisted  Stygian crow 
holding an ancient quill pen 
bleeding obsidian black ink into the ocean
surrounding my boat
Turning the water as black as the death I cause
The air surrounding my ship is an icy cold blue air
almost too thin and cold to breath.

I am Cap'n Ghost Lee Waters.
long black tangled beard
hollow sunken eyes rimmed with aching death. 
I move in frozen desecrations and icy darkness
I move towards you with murderous intent
And soon you will be within my grip
And you will feed my ship.
Jacob Lewis Nov 2014
When we cast our minds eye deep into squared stone,
into bleached canvas or lumped clay...
into shiny new spools of thread or empty manuscript pages,
we sometimes hear the silent electricity of some elusive spirit
calling on us to shape it from the emptiness before us.

Dragons and fairies beg us for eyes and wings.
Clouds beg us for open air.
Wolves and women beg us for large hungry mouths.
Delinquent young malcontents beg us for careless countenances and eternal cigarettes.
Ambiguous protagonists beg us for meaningful lives.

These assemblages, endeavors and desecrations we generously decree "art"
and we hold them high
above the humdrum utilitarian and accidental incarnations of matter
that belong in the dimensions of nature and industry.
These incarnations hold court as the kings and queens of matter.
These are the celebrations of mans love affair with time, with space, with insanity and with immortality.

The spider finds his art in the hopeless **** of the captured fly against the sticky trappings of the web.
For him, it's desperate black buzz holds all of the sway of a fine orchestra flawlessly reciting some intricate overture.
Shinnu John Mar 2017
Unicorn fetishes with Fictional Highs,
Magnetic Spells I saw in her Emerald Eyes,
She Bled Perpetually, that reddish divine
Don't let it fool you, Fire & Toxic Cries.
Lucid Screams was Her Plastic Love,
Leeching dreams from serenity Above
Paper Towns & screeching screams ,
Refracting Into An Apocalyptic Dove.
Postcards Of Her Estranged Tranquility,
Diffusing Into Polaroids , going right through me
Rhythms Of Lusts Erupting Obscenity,
Followed her footsteps, towards infinity.
Bluest Shade Of Her Misguided Confessions,
Casted me Aside from her possessions.
Uncharted Fragments Amplifying her Obsessions,
Profane Prodigies Detonating my Desecrations,
Unicorn fetishes with Fictional Highs,
3D Symphonies Inside Her Crystal eyes,
Purple Streams Translating her fires
Real eyes ,Realized, her Real lies.
#Polynoid #TeREequiro

— The End —