"destituted" poems
A stapel river flows in Hyena
pack,
rivulets of laughing
data.
Twist a turn to deconvolute destituted
band.
From arterial ort to capillary
place
respires a quantal
love.
Quid non quo
flows,
trickling down in plain
flat,
in crevice crag, filling just
enough.
Fresh down to Mexican
border
town, in flooding estuaries, in fanning
delta,
it breezes meta confidence within six
Sigma.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 8:34 PM UTC
When is the game over?
When the man dies?
When the first born is a girl?
At the end of the first meal without salt?
When the woman dies?
At sunset?
At the late time of night when the spirit ebbs?
When his one good joke is repeated too often?
When his son is killed by friendly fire?
When the potatoes are blighted?
At the end of high school football stardom?
When rejected by a prom date?
When destituted by frivolous litigation
Destituted by insufficient health insurance?
When caught cheating?
At cards?
In adultery?
In a resume?
By the IRS
When caught?
In a sting?
Ten most wanted?
Interpol?
When I finish my drink?
When I empty my wallet?
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
My gauntly frame, standing so feeble in the reflection of the mirror infront of me.
My destituted soul.
So terrified,
So anxious,
Of what lies ahead.
This conservative idea of ancient jubilation,
Eating so ferociously at my soul.
This solemn feeling in the Base of my throat,
Tempting me in the silence.
So unyielding.
My gauntly frame so ravenous for attention.
So parched from love.
So eager to find an adored one.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
A frigid night outside the friary
Where only hears the sound of hearse
Insensible heart but with sadness
Liniment by loneliness and sadness.
Forever drown in this solitude fane
Clad with great shame
Mincing to wait yet groaning under pain
Her laconic eyes seems in chain.
A nightmare echoed as knell
An old cascade now pouring down tears
Can't find a way to be elated.
Destituted and chilled by many faces.
How lonesome you are!
You're dismal and with devious pride
You elude but always caught
A mariontte that always drift.
They repress you to fly
And a peevish child in you makes you cry.
Someone's flayed you but you denied
You only have one hop but they owed you a thousand strides.
They inflict you to 'kiss the rod'
Now you're a 'damsel in distress'
Your flimsy wings turns into embers
Reason why they taunt you and makes your dreams shutter.
But I know this knell will turn into a serenade
Though I have an embered wings, someday
I will reincarnate
I will bring back my glittering cascade.
I will leave this frigid friary and devastate their masquerade.
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC
The smell of tension is in the air
the military are out in force
the rebels are getting ready
let the violence take it's course
Bottles full of gasoline are being prepared
rebels sniggering, we will have the ********
then off they go in masks and hoods
cocktails not for drinking in hand
causing havoc making a stand
on their turf their destituted land
Tension starts with shouting and jeering
perfect political engineering
they watch on cameras the melee
touching themselves at others dismay
sick is this system controlled by the lame
they are just playing blood lust mind games
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 3:35 PM UTC