"despising" poems
Feelings, the treasure of ones heart,
A flame, cast ablaze by the purity of righteousness, warm alike sunlight, yet not as burning or uncomfortably hot if exposed too long,
As embracing, as a motherly tugging hug, full of love and dearness,
It feels so gentle, like a soft breeze, sweetly touching the blossoming petals, after a soft rain pours water over their delicate, little bodies,
So warm, as if enlightment were close to reach beyond the border of consciousness, growing strong and happy, alike a peach tree,
Celestial is what it tastes like, sweeping over my transience in awe,
It is but an emotion, which would soften a stone hard heart and make it alike cotton and wonderfully sweet as candy from amongst heaven,
Inner peace, served on a golden plate behind a courtain of sunlight, describing the greatest pleasure,your drink and thankfulness for what you have, without greed, the desire to have more, despising violence,
And even though humans will keep on living, such whilst being in a wretched, poor state, destined to fight on and hope for the better,
Living, is what I find very beautiful.
~ Umi
Apr 22, 2018
Apr 22, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start
Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same hell
All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same
As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home
Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ
Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position
I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your bitchin'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ************* winning
WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave
The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise
Your in the way of the wave, child
This..... the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 3:54 AM UTC
Society is so focused on being flawless. Perfect. No one is flawless, not even Beyonce. We will forget who we are on the inside, and soon that won’t even matter because the physical appearance is the main priority. Women these days are spending so much effort trying to look perfect, which hurts. Pretty hurts. Society is expecting women to look perfect, otherwise people will judge. ‘Perfection is a disease of a nation’. The showbiz industry is giving a negative message to the world. Photoshop is one of them. Making a celebrity look flawless is fooling the world into thinking we must look like that. Spending so much money on clothes, hair etc. but we don’t need to focus on that because all that matters is on the inside, which most people don’t seem to see anymore. We are constantly getting the messages in our mind that we must be flawless, and sooner or later, this is a disease. Some of us can’t take it anymore, which leads to anorexia, bulimia, insecurities, and issues with body image. Pain also takes over our minds, which is ridiculous. Even celebrities have gone through this because in our naïve little minds, we are thinking we have to be pretty. There is so much pressure it takes over our minds, and that’s the only thing we think about. We look into the mirror despising ourselves, because we are who we are. Society has created us into thinking there’s a certain way we must look, which there is not. Our flaws make us who we are, makes us positively different. Unique. But we aren’t allowed to think that way because the media isn’t allowing us to. When people change, they are only cheating on themselves because media displays images of what we should and shouldn’t look like. It’s not their fault though. They can’t help it. Changing, like getting botox or body implant is only giving us a masquerade. It’s a mask to hide our real, inner beauty, which the media has taken the idea away from us, to become people who we actually aren’t.
And in the end, we know that pretty hurts.
a.a.
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
(This poem doesn't belong to me. The rightful owner is the author Darren Shan who wrote the Demonata and the Cirque du Freak book series. This poem is from his first book of the Demonata book series: Lord Loss.)
Lord loss sows all the sorrows of the world, lord loss seeds the grief starched trees
In the center of the web lowly lord loss bows his head
Mangled hands, naked eyes
Fanged snakes his soul line
Curled inside like texture sin
****** curdle sheets for skin
In the center of the web vile lord loss torments the dead
Over strands of red, lord loss crawls
Dispensing pain, despising all
Shuns friends, nurtures foes
Ravages hope, breeds woe
Drinks moons, devours suns
Twirls his thumbs till the reaper comes
In the center of the web Lush Lord Loss is all that is left.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
In the morning, bowing to all;
In the evening, bowing to all.
Respecting others is my only duty--
Hail to the Never-despising Bodhisattva.
In heaven and earth he stands alone.
A real monk
Needs
Only one thing--
a heart like
Never-despising Buddha.
6.2k
#1: My face is disproportional to the rest of me
It looks so uncomfortable sitting on my shoulders
Like it's a holder for the weight of the world
#2: My eyes show too much expression
They cannot lie
Even in moments of severe desperation
When lying that no, I am not about to cry
#3: My words are always awkward
Especially when spoken
They convey the notion of stupidity
When that's not true in reality
#4: My inability to cope with any stressful circumstance
Always retreating
Always receding
Instead of seeking out help
#5: My self hate
My inability to love who I am
The constant wish that I was someone
Who can
Love themselves with their entire heart
And not be dragged into this never ending dark
Of despising yourself
But blaming everyone else
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 5:05 PM UTC
she has spent eternities despising herself
searching in the mirror for the existence
of an ethereal reflection
staring back into her ocean eyes
whispering soft lullabies
an abundance of external lies
for it could never match
the true beauty and radiance
that resides inside
the most impeccable love story
is the one she holds with herself
for when she comes to realize
the resiliency of her bones
the captivation of her words
the radiance of her dance
and the effervescence of her energy
she drips in empowerment
like sweet honey
drips from the wildflower
Apr 25, 2020
Apr 25, 2020 at 1:14 AM UTC
Ah, in my opinion and in general Indian opinion, love and *** are irrelated. I'm nearly 23 and I'm in love and I'm proudly a young man with preserved chastity. Gender has lost its place in the active vocabulary and the word for ****** *********** *** has replaced it widely.
People around the globe have simply forgotten that the real meaning of love is not *** but instead of this, *** is one of the many expressions of love.
Love is when you get the feeling of being a friend and a family member of a person you are not naturally related to and the person is from the "opposite" gender irrespective of how the system tries to make sense of same-gender love by going great lengths for despising the truth.
As for the homosexual people, it's high time for them to accept the rules of nature as those are and stop doing what they are. They should mingle equally well with the people from opposite gender and find or wait for somebody who matches their thinking about wiser things.
Virginity, or more appropriately put, chastity of a person is defined as the situation of being totally inexperienced at having had any ****** activity. It is a treasure trove of humanity, and is not just a physical state but even a psychological state. This treasure must be shown to and shared only with one person from opposite gender when one is ready for exercising the activities of ****** ***********
If a person, a female in particular, is ***** and their chastity is snatched away by force, or conversely, they lose it to some physical injury resulting from sports, and their mind is still untouched by the notion of *********** they must not to be treated as someone who has been having ****** *********** and wilfully so.
Oct 17, 2013
Oct 17, 2013 at 6:09 AM UTC
I’m stumbling through a black abyss,
Surrounded by this nothingness,
Mirroring the emptiness,
inside my soul.
Along the way I find a lake,
A lake upon the path I take,
And near the lake there lies a sign,
Just before the water’s line.
And this is what the sign does say
,The sign I find upon my way:
“Here lies the gateway to the soul,
So look within if that’s your goal.”
So I kneel within this black abyss,
And gaze upon the lake’s surface,
My reflection meets my eyes,
A face I do not recognize.
And as I look upon this face,
Despising she who took my place,
I feel my anger over flow,
And finally I let it go.
“You ignorant and petty fool!
You errant-minded, useless tool!
Oh look at you, what you’ve become!
Don’t you see how far you’ve fallen from?”
My reflection does not answer me,
Just stares back out so emptily,
A sight that draws forth unshed tears,
And rekindles all my greatest fears.
“What happened to the face I knew?
What happened to the real you?
You are everything you once opposed!
You are a fraud! And everyone knows.”
My reflection simply stares at me,
It does not move, nor answer me,
Nor does it return my shout,
It does nothing, just stares back out.
“You are the reason for the emptiness!
You are the reason for this black abyss!
For everything that’s trapped me here!
You are the face behind my fear!”
Then looking down upon this lake,
This lake upon the path I take,
I realize it is no lake at all,
Only a mirror upon the wall.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
As Thursday dawns and traffic thrums,
the pulse of life is rising.
The temperature is mild for now,
but highs I am despising.
I'll enjoy the ride and abide
within my domain bettin',
That if you're out by noon today,
you really will be sweatin'.
So I'll drink my fluids and try
to keep myself away from trouble,
'Cause when the sun is high today,
the tar will start to bubble.
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 1:15 PM UTC
Love is always praised into the heavens
But never is a tale spoken in which hatred truly prevails,
For those creatures who have nothing but it left seem so lost,
Is this the price they are taking, or must this be a farewell ?
Alike love, hate can give strengh but also great misery,
For those who have lost the access to light it is but an embrace,
Because for them the heart was made to be broken,
Eventually though, through all odds they find their way, despising what they formerly had done, had felt and had acted.
This side of the story remains lonesome,
The light of love is for all to bear in the end,
But the embrace of hatred is undesired as if it was cursed,
Just because the darkness made an attempt to protect their minds,
An outcast who was left behind, who was undefended,
Bidden farewell the shadows of night give in to the sunrays
Another night ends in defeat.
~ Umi
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 4:30 PM UTC
When, in disgrace with Fortune and men’s eyes,
I all alone beweep my outcast state,
And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries,
And look upon myself and curse my fate,
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope,
Featured like him, like him with friends possessed,
Desiring this man’s art and that man’s scope,
With what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
Like to the lark at break of day arising
From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven’s gate;
For thy sweet love remembered such wealth brings
That then I scorn to change my state with kings.
2.6k
Stared at a clock today
it was broken
it ticked slower and slower
until it's time seemed to be frozen
Even in it's current state
It would be right twice a day
* I was reminded of lie I was once told
it had left me broken, bitter
battered and cold
But even this lie would've been made true
if it was left to sit unfixed
and I let those emotions brew*
I stared at the clock, unimpressed
the clock had stopped,
twelve o'clock it read
but I knew that it was taunting, teasing
and I believed what it said
*There, I stood, alone and naked
debating with myself if I stood
broken and forsaken
or if this was the start of the new
the beginning of the path less taken
for whichever I stood to believe, this I knew
where I stood then, that was the catalyst
and where I will be next can't be presumed
but for this moment, this second in time
is the only time it will be my center, my middle*
my noon
And with a taunting tick, this clock
began to move again
tock, tick; tick, tock
and without a show of face
I stared in surprise
the clock began to run backward
began to mock
Turning back time
seconds, hours
whispering, shimmering
tempting with the ability to rewind
time
* ...and her face began to focus in my thoughts
the ringing in my ears became clear
became screaming
and the pain I had wrought faded
and the scars done to me dissipated
just for a second, I was watching myself
holding her, touching her, *** despising her**
...and I awake alone
sweating
yearning
scars burning
stomach turning
*And down the hall the clock can be heard with it's ominous, taunting tick-tock ticking into *
oblivion
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 12:46 AM UTC
There are dark times upon me,
While I stand here a victim of your unforgivable actions.
I feel the repentance of our love as a knife through my stomach, as it sinks deeper beyond the dermis- feel its blade turn horizontally whenever you return into my thoughts
I become nauseated by your presence,
Not of disgust-
Rather from the suppression of tears, fighting back weakness knocking at my chest cavity.
I'm angry,
I can't help but weep
I remember the times we danced, and we laughed,
And the aching feeling of confusion overwhelms my sanity.
I break when I see your unmistakable smile, your intelligent glasses I remember you despising but me adoring.
I swoon as you don your best clothing, for I remember you trying so hard to look your best
For me.
You threw me out like Wednesday morning garbage. I wonder if you weep as I do...
That's a lie,
I know you never would.
You have more important things to fill your head with-
***
Beer,
Oh ya, and education.
Thanks for putting me second, you ******
I totally understand after a year and a half that you would treat me the same as a disposable diaper.
I get it...
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 3:51 AM UTC
You found me
Heart of abuse turned peaceful
Eyes of disgust enlightened
You winged me into security,
then played off my vulnerability like a scavenger
Peeling my walls down like flesh from a carcass
You reeled me in like the catch of the day
hook attached, you left me dangling with the hope of repair
As you caught a one way to California
The days that followed brought your beasts with them
Gloomy deceitful minions of broken trust
Your "love" had evaporated just as quick as the oregon wind blows
Making me regret every ounce of compassion I'd given you
despising the sincerity I had offered
Regurgitating every lie you'd bestowed upon me
However, with every passing day my memory of you fades
No longer do I cry over your cowardly decisions
There is no hate or grudge held within my soul
Soon enough I realised I'd never loved you
I was faking contempt with every kiss, every hug, every word
& my heart secretly craved your absence
months have passed without heartache
I've doused my wounds in gasoline and set your memory ablaze
regained that fire in my eyes that you once so carelessly saturated with tears
There are many that patiently waited for my return
Finally my golden emeralds are cleaned of deceit and deception
I'm done searching, waiting, and hoping for my happily ever after
I am my happy ending
I'm the best architect and gardener I know
Continuously rebuilding myself after demolition
& Replanting my roots to fit my desires
Repairing cracks, sowing holes, stemming leaves from ashes
I've been reborn.
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
My friend published a book
of collected Scots Proverbs.
200 pages and more, filled
with countless ways of saying
"Don't show off."
And that precious wisdom,
generations in the making
percolated through smokey thatch
in dismal dripping glens,
Tattooed into tenement bricks
with the soot of dead industry,
added to the diet
with the excess salt and saturated fat,
Paving the roads
on which all ambition travels south,
And fizzing through the lager
on its way to the head
Now hangs around the kids
like the stink around an ashtray
and stifles any pride
they might invest in themselves.
They will pass it on
with their genes
and their endless disappointments,
despising anyone who rises
above the station
at which they are
eternally delayed.
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 4:15 PM UTC
*An unprecedented night with friends.
We were talking about the moon and the stars,
figuring out the constellations
that we were too young for,
and for some reason, love,
we were talking about you instead.
She declared that you've permanently lost
your dear lady, that I personally could not
do without. For some other reason, darling,
I was in awe of your beauty.
However, you were encompassed
in an aura of self-confidence,
and I couldn't believe you all along.
That smile never left your visage,
so I was left wondering how you do it,
making it seem like you've reached salvation easily.
This tear-stained paper I'm writing on
is my heart breaking into pieces for you.
You will always have my condolence,
my skinny love, and my worthwhile silence.
Never have I imagined being distraught this much,
for I am in a state of self-loathing,
despising how I didn't try harder to be
in your company.
To confront you,
and to endlessly love you.
But I'm sorry I never got the chance
to tell you how beautiful of a soul you are.
Maybe someday when you're truly jubilant,
with no fake smiles and no dry tears,
you'd read this poem and perhaps,
you may think of the girl who
let you borrow her pen
but left it with you on purpose
so she'd have a chance of talking to you again,
only to find out that you never gave it back.
Love, it's okay now because I have a wider scope of things,
and you may have been too occupied shedding tears for her
to pay some attention to my green ballpoint pen.
I forgive you.
And I hope you forgave me when I lied to you and smiled,
because in reality,
we are all sad souls with fleeting moments of happiness,
endeavoring to reach solitude,
with neither of us saying what we really mean.
And I guess nobody ever does.*
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 9:19 AM UTC
Accent of my deceiver,
Scent of that liar,
Something that I once acquired,
Before despising the sight of her,
Tail I tugged,
Before you sliced me at the throat,
Warmth of another’s bed,
You are no longer plaguing my head,
Feeding into the thoughts I bred,
The fears I cultivated,
Despite decades before my timely death,
A weakling at one point in life,
When a robber wields a knife,
When a priest lays his hands upon a victim,
Even the evangelical fall,
Even the strong-willed think of letting their throat slouch,
You are only human,
I’m more than you’ll ever be!
Take a seat boy
Before I bury your skull,
Beneath my heel and off my feet,
I’ll be there to hold your hand,
While your heart begins to cease,
I’ll be there, when you can no longer speaking,
As you stare towards the sky then to me,
I’ll be there to keep eye contact,
For you see the smirk,
Smearing across my face,
For you to feel my grip tightening,
As your breathes continue fading,
And right before you realize,
Right before what lies ahead,
Specifically for you,
Is an eternal darkness, reserved for,
The wickedest of souls,
Oh how I yearn to watch you decay,
Counting down the days,
Till that moment when I’ll find you on the forest floor,
before comforting you too insure you die alone,
Payback for everything,
We are all the victims,
The guilty!
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 12:31 AM UTC
When, in the graceful misfortune of a woman's eyes,
you are never alone, rejoice your beloved state,
without troubles blind to hell with the song of our lives,
without hearing crying, and rejoicing at this fate,
Content with you, unlike anyone else is your hope,
Hidden unlike her, unlike her with enemies dispossessed,
Wanting nothing of that woman's science, without this woman's scope,
Without what I less bear unhappily most;
Yet out of those feelings of you I am never despising,
Sorrowfully view her, after your state,
Unlike from the mockingbird after the repairing of night sets
To joyful waters, from listening to the lament at hells wall;
For my bitter hate forgotten such poverty discarded
After this I would gladly switch places with peasants.
Jul 6, 2012
Jul 6, 2012 at 8:23 AM UTC
My ribbons are tattered and torn,
My hair is in a tangle,
My eyes they stare a thousand miles
My chest is a ball of brambles.
Here in the hell between
I meet The devil and the deep blue sea.
I swallow hard to clear the thorns
A ****** Metallic taste is rising,
And from my mouth, a crimson tear
Adoring and despising.
The devil with his uneasy eyes,
The deep blue sea's unsung surprise.
It's fight or flight, sink or swim
And so I let the games begin.
The jury nod, the death knell rings,
I gaze into the cold abyss.
My sentence called, the words unclear
And in a foreign language.
Circles I can't leave,
They'll Drown me as I weep
I'll Sleep forever sleep
Take me to the deep.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 9:35 AM UTC
Ashes falling, embers burn,
Sirens calling, "Lessons learned!"
"Help is on the way," they say,
But help won't make it here today.
You try to run but can't get away,
Death will come and fear will stay.
Ashes falling, embers burn,
Death is calling, "Lessons learned!"
Crimson streets, the bodies line,
Those still living are losing time.
Death is searching and will always find.
Fear will take hold and rot your mind.
Dreams are falling, memories return,
Regret is calling, "Lessons learned!"
"Play not with fire," you were always told,
"Lest you be burned before you grow old."
But you loved to stare at the colors bold,
Enjoying the heat, despising the cold.
Ashes falling, embers burn,
Fire is calling, "Lessons learned!"
You loved setting fires and watching them burn,
The only thing for which your heart ever yearned,
But a flash and a bang say you'll never return;
Life is fading, lessons learned.
8/26/14
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
You've ripped open the lid of protection
You've torn down the walls of self-preservation
I'm stripped bare before You - no covering of self remains
Just when I though I had my kingdom secure
Just when I though I had perfected the act of surety
I have girded myself upon pillars of another man's vision
I lay in the vineyards of an angry man's dreams
My vineyard I have forsaken behind walls of disillusionment
Being yoked up with a man's burdens of works
I look at the walls surrounding my hopes
Vines of youth now overgrown and wild; forsaken and empty
You came with Your sickle and cut into branches of coldness and fear
You tear apart the thicket of my soul to find hope of fruitfulness
You break down the walls of separation and call me out
"Come here! Come here! Breathe again the long lost breaths of refreshing!"
How do I depart from the expectations of those I am yoked to?
How do I escape the despising of those who have created my place in this world?
How do I go? Where is the trail of those who have walked this way before?
I see You through tears of fear and shame
I see You through tears of desire and desperation
Your eyes pierce through the deception I found comfort in
Your arms reach past this world I found security in
Your voice strikes into the center of a child's heart long gone in a world I don't belong
I want only You! I need only You!
I'm ready to rebuild the old places
I'm ready for the pain of purging
Come, Lord Jesus! Come!
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 11:02 PM UTC
As I lay on my deathbed in the hospital room,
The awareness of my soon doom,
Exudes feelings of gloom,
But more so it ensues feelings of regret,
So many stupid decisions which in my heart beget
Feelings of indecision, unaware of what is next.
The disease that’s ripping me from my life is unknown,
All I know is I had to leave my son and wife at home.
Soon I’ll have to leave from the life I’ve known.
I remember my last words to my son,
Looking sympathetically I looked at him pathetically,
And said so empathetically, I loved him,
So death could see.
But it doesn’t matter, because talking doesn’t work,
So I’m patiently waiting for the coffin and the hearse,
And then all a sudden I started coughing and it hurts,
Then I pressed the button which was calling for the nurse.
The door flew open
But it couldn‘t be her,
Instead I got the black hooded death,
Known as the Grim Reaper.
He approached me, I got cold, time froze,
His hand hit mine.
He got close to me and told me, that it was my time.
Filled with frustration I couldn’t control,
Snatched my arm away from his hand so cold,
Looked him in his eyes, because it was time he was told,
He’s not taking any more lives and it was my time, I spoke.
“If you reap what you sow, why reap souls?
You’re the creator of none, but you can take them and run?
How is this so, the keeper of the souls,
Reaper who sold nothing he sowed?
He only stole, and away he stowed ,
Until he bestows them to the one below.
And we all know that he has no soul.
So your envy controls and even he knows
In heat he chose to fight those he loathes.
Despising those whose demise,
You own.
Spiting foes, despite inside he knows,
That it was he who has chose,
The life as Reaper of Souls.”
After I finished my speech,
He roared with laughter and disbelief,
Then, up I leaped and for his sickle I reached,
Chopped off his head, which fell to his feet.
Now death is dead, just grim from defeat.
But to my surprise, death did have a soul,
And into my body, the spirit arose.
The Grim Reaper’s hood then covered me whole,
From the inside to out my body became cold.
I was no greater than he, reaping what I did not sow.
I was just as Grim,
And now the new Reaper of souls.
Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 1:28 PM UTC
As the exhaust spewed its mourning glum
onto the whimpering porcelain snow,
the chauffeur looked up and desperately prayed
for an Academy Award winner.
"Novelty tears shall spout at all times!"
And the thespian will charge through those double doors,
beginning his craft from the moment he hears the ***** *****
singing the deceased's pleas towards the golden gate of Heaven
and crunching through an audience of bawling admirers
of a man he barely knew.
He was chosen to give the eulogy.
Designated to speak on the behalf
of man he never thought to glance at twice,
besides the intervals of days spent
despising the realization of his existence,
resenting the scars created in surplus quantities,
stomping down the darkest layers still oozing from the coffin.
For a handful of hours, it must all become a waning spark for the
method actor giving the most crowd-pleasing breakdown of his life,
delivering a perfectly tailored recital
cloaked to all the front-pew viewers
as a heartfelt elegy.
"Just a few hours," he thought as the double doors creaked,
and the scene will end with him sliding into his car,
a dead weight off his shoulders,
driving victoriously into the sunset.
A new set of tears rolled with the end credits,
along the face of the son,
liquidating the thespian with their bleak sincerity.
They were drops of remorse
for a bond that was never born,
with an abortion in a wood encasing
for all those people out there in the dark.
Apr 29, 2010
Apr 29, 2010 at 10:46 AM UTC
He left with the passing time
no farewells offered
no heartfelt backward glance
his footfalls ticking seconds
echoing in the Sunday parlours of the righteous he despised
He left with the passing time
no one mourned,no tears were shed
His sacred, bleeding heart
now but a tattooed image
on the chests of the dejected
He left with the passing time
on whispers of myths
and suspected tall tales
doubting his own truth
despising the lie of his creation
He left with the passing time
while pious mice sang of his glory
behind the battlements of faith
as the wars of the wicked raged in his name
He left with the passing time
while mothers wailed at shaken babes
and the disappeared sang from **** choked graves
He left with the passing time
as society shunned his brand
and drunken feet danced lasciviously on his moral high ground
He left, with the passing time...
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 4:29 AM UTC