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mrs kite May 2015
when you are young
your taste buds are
naïve and
the sweetest thing of all is
destruction.

as you age your tongue
grows wiser but
no matter how sour
revenge tastes now
it has saturated the roof of your mouth
and it stings your gums like
vinegar.
Ayeshah Nov 2013
Sadly I think of you & wonder if those green eyes remember me or if you think of me....
I bet you don't.
Do you miss me even a little bit...
I doubt you do or could care less,
I seen the affirmation in your wake of destruction,
to my home & very soul...

I'm sure your happy now since you've destroyed this home, stole and thought it'd be fun even funny, I hope the temporary satisfaction fills you in those lonely nights and days where I once use to dwell.

I pray my scent still lingers in the air where ever you go and all over your pillows, leaving you craving me and still yearning for my lustful touch, kisses and caress...

our legs entwining, our body's moving in sync, your green seductive eyes staring at me with love shinning through as you make me your lady, your life and someday maybe your could of been wife...
We shouldn't of ruined "that" because "that" was the best part of us.... Or so I keep trying to tell myself.
I cant forget or forgive you for the negative names that came out your mouth- towards me and they are so so unforgivable, yet because I love you and still care.

I guess, it's best for me to forgive some of the disrespectful ways and things you've said plus done to me & not just me but my children.

I hope your happy really I do, I feel if things were so completely different  we could of been steadfast in working things out.

I seriously miss your strong arm wrapped breathlessly and so very tightly around me, and that's ok, it's ok to miss you, to crave you and at times still need you.

I know that us being apart is for the best, least that's what I'm telling myself...

the healing I've allowed me to go through will one day help me think back on what we shared as a fond memory.

The growing that's taken place, tells me that, for me- my chapters not over and the pages that once were us sadly was a tragedy, but these new blank pages and those canvases over there are ready for me to start a new book and paint again....

Sadly thought I'm so used calling you when I have a issues problem or need a pick me up, sadly I'm used to going over & climbing in your bed, having you fill me up with your intensified love making.
And sweetly but sadly- how you used to hold me for no reason at all or even when you scooped me up right in the middle of walmart screaming "I LOVE YOU" as loud as you could...

I pray the next one you meet you realize that if she sticks around when your broke,broken and penniless, giving you all of her love as you lie and abuse and give reasons for your deceit that you hold on to her.
I pray you don't lie cheat or steal as you've done to me...

I was there if you'll recall, when no one else was, and would of still been if you didn't damage my home and my life or that of my children if you'd realize that, there was no need to play games with me to win...

There was no need to demand and abuse or lie and cheat, there was never a need to try to manipulate or any need for control not over me not with us,

no need to force my hand and or the love i carried with me every where, since it was you who always owned the key to my heart!

To those "green/hazel eyes" which haunt my days and wakes me from sleep with nightmares of what once was a beautiful tragedy of ..........................

um........................US!


(Sad­ly I miss you & sadly I still love you too)

Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright ©
Ayeshah
K.C.L.N 1977 - Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved ®
EJ Aghassi Nov 2013
Beer, beer
philosophy, gin
self searching
empire building
more beer
world dissecting, self destruction
beer and
spinning
&
spinning to sleep
Priya Devi Apr 2015
I wanted you like I want the skyline of New York to puncture new notches in my belt so I could hold myself together tighter.

Your silence was a city street roar,
I should have known it sooner.
Your hints were more subtle than a sucker punch and I'm a sucker for a heart beating

You were easier than I was ****** and we loved it, we merged into one,
you doused me in gasoline and set me on fire,
inhaled me one kiss at a time.

The vast capacity you held on your tongue was coded,
you chose to translate it with your eyes in fireworks.
The words processed and filtered through smoke sent straight from your brain were riddled with chemical madness
it exhausted me.
You were the perfect excuse for self destruction.
You were the perfect plague.

This is the last time I let myself go, this is the last time,

I will never again be in need of your past tense lullabies,

I am my own salvation, I am my own skyline, I am my own destruction.
Rebecca Paul Jul 2013
I have no power here. No voice. No reason to continue fighting.
I have very little memory, actually, of what it was like to care.
I try to rejoice in my numbness: celebrate the dulled sounds, flat images, and jaded feelings.
The expression I wear is emotionally ambiguous at best,
Though I do not look sad. I plaster on my smile, straighten the edges, and clean up any smudges you might have left behind.
I use drywall to build my body each morning. Carefully construct a pair of arms, legs, *******, eyes.
When everything is finished, my sins are shown as an imperfect body, reflecting my imperfect soul.
I still look in the mirror, look into my dead eyes, and feel remorseful for the girl that could have been standing here in my place.
She may have been beautiful; unfortunately, she had nothing to protect herself with.
Though the process is trying, I know I must do this every day.
I do this every day so I can face you, and your omnipotence, and your destruction.
I do this every day so I can love you.
karin naude Mar 2013
i wandered for a long time
among thorns, disease and death
no glimmer to see
feel the walls, feel the cave,it leads you out
i found many Christian doors
locked with big heavy chains
you preach "come Ye weary"
to locked door?!
Christian followers preach beautiful
words divinely chosen for impact
no temperature ever checked
walk among bibles, oil and cloths
dance in praise
blow the battle horn
But But But
who sees those wandering in the dark standing before closed doors for help

closed doors mean" banishment to the Barron out field
red sin covered land
mercy irrelevant
demanding cruel deity
pleased with nothing
pushes self destruction
cries are stamp on
more pain more glory
damage soul the goal
your pleadings are laughed and spit upon
the glorious hellish Barron outfield

do you allow this dear reader?
do you have closed doors?
i lived in the outfields now i'm home thank God
my Guardian through prayer opened a door for me
now i know, now i know
follow the true Christ
Nestor was sitting over his wine, but the cry of battle did not
escape him, and he said to the son of Aesculapius, “What, noble
Machaon, is the meaning of all this? The shouts of men fighting by our
ships grow stronger and stronger; stay here, therefore, and sit over
your wine, while fair Hecamede heats you a bath and washes the clotted
blood from off you. I will go at once to the look-out station and
see what it is all about.”
  As he spoke he took up the shield of his son Thrasymedes that was
lying in his tent, all gleaming with bronze, for Thrasymedes had taken
his father’s shield; he grasped his redoubtable bronze-shod spear, and
as soon as he was outside saw the disastrous rout of the Achaeans who,
now that their wall was overthrown, were flying pell-mell before the
Trojans. As when there is a heavy swell upon the sea, but the waves
are dumb—they keep their eyes on the watch for the quarter whence the
fierce winds may spring upon them, but they stay where they are and
set neither this way nor that, till some particular wind sweeps down
from heaven to determine them—even so did the old man ponder
whether to make for the crowd of Danaans, or go in search of
Agamemnon. In the end he deemed it best to go to the son of Atreus;
but meanwhile the hosts were fighting and killing one another, and the
hard bronze rattled on their bodies, as they ****** at one another
with their swords and spears.
  The wounded kings, the son of Tydeus, Ulysses, and Agamemnon son
of Atreus, fell in Nestor as they were coming up from their ships—for
theirs were drawn up some way from where the fighting was going on,
being on the shore itself inasmuch as they had been beached first,
while the wall had been built behind the hindermost. The stretch of
the shore, wide though it was, did not afford room for all the
ships, and the host was cramped for space, therefore they had placed
the ships in rows one behind the other, and had filled the whole
opening of the bay between the two points that formed it. The kings,
leaning on their spears, were coming out to survey the fight, being in
great anxiety, and when old Nestor met them they were filled with
dismay. Then King Agamemnon said to him, “Nestor son of Neleus, honour
to the Achaean name, why have you left the battle to come hither? I
fear that what dread Hector said will come true, when he vaunted among
the Trojans saying that he would not return to Ilius till he had fired
our ships and killed us; this is what he said, and now it is all
coming true. Alas! others of the Achaeans, like Achilles, are in anger
with me that they refuse to fight by the sterns of our ships.”
  Then Nestor knight of Gerene answered, “It is indeed as you say;
it is all coming true at this moment, and even Jove who thunders
from on high cannot prevent it. Fallen is the wall on which we
relied as an impregnable bulwark both for us and our fleet. The
Trojans are fighting stubbornly and without ceasing at the ships; look
where you may you cannot see from what quarter the rout of the
Achaeans is coming; they are being killed in a confused mass and the
battle-cry ascends to heaven; let us think, if counsel can be of any
use, what we had better do; but I do not advise our going into
battle ourselves, for a man cannot fight when he is wounded.”
  And King Agamemnon answered, “Nestor, if the Trojans are indeed
fighting at the rear of our ships, and neither the wall nor the trench
has served us—over which the Danaans toiled so hard, and which they
deemed would be an impregnable bulwark both for us and our fleet—I
see it must be the will of Jove that the Achaeans should perish
ingloriously here, far from Argos. I knew when Jove was willing to
defend us, and I know now that he is raising the Trojans to like
honour with the gods, while us, on the other hand, he bas bound hand
and foot. Now, therefore, let us all do as I say; let us bring down
the ships that are on the beach and draw them into the water; let us
make them fast to their mooring-stones a little way out, against the
fall of night—if even by night the Trojans will desist from fighting;
we may then draw down the rest of the fleet. There is nothing wrong in
flying ruin even by night. It is better for a man that he should fly
and be saved than be caught and killed.”
  Ulysses looked fiercely at him and said, “Son of Atreus, what are
you talking about? Wretch, you should have commanded some other and
baser army, and not been ruler over us to whom Jove has allotted a
life of hard fighting from youth to old age, till we every one of us
perish. Is it thus that you would quit the city of Troy, to win
which we have suffered so much hardship? Hold your peace, lest some
other of the Achaeans hear you say what no man who knows how to give
good counsel, no king over so great a host as that of the Argives
should ever have let fall from his lips. I despise your judgement
utterly for what you have been saying. Would you, then, have us draw
down our ships into the water while the battle is raging, and thus
play further into the hands of the conquering Trojans? It would be
ruin; the Achaeans will not go on fighting when they see the ships
being drawn into the water, but will cease attacking and keep
turning their eyes towards them; your counsel, therefore, Sir captain,
would be our destruction.”
  Agamemnon answered, “Ulysses, your rebuke has stung me to the heart.
I am not, however, ordering the Achaeans to draw their ships into
the sea whether they will or no. Some one, it may be, old or young,
can offer us better counsel which I shall rejoice to hear.”
  Then said Diomed, “Such an one is at hand; he is not far to seek, if
you will listen to me and not resent my speaking though I am younger
than any of you. I am by lineage son to a noble sire, Tydeus, who lies
buried at Thebes. For Portheus had three noble sons, two of whom,
Agrius and Melas, abode in Pleuron and rocky Calydon. The third was
the knight Oeneus, my father’s father, and he was the most valiant
of them all. Oeeneus remained in his own country, but my father (as
Jove and the other gods ordained it) migrated to Argos. He married
into the family of Adrastus, and his house was one of great abundance,
for he had large estates of rich corn-growing land, with much
orchard ground as well, and he had many sheep; moreover he excelled
all the Argives in the use of the spear. You must yourselves have
heard whether these things are true or no; therefore when I say well
despise not my words as though I were a coward or of ignoble birth.
I say, then, let us go to the fight as we needs must, wounded though
we be. When there, we may keep out of the battle and beyond the
range of the spears lest we get fresh wounds in addition to what we
have already, but we can spur on others, who have been indulging their
spleen and holding aloof from battle hitherto.”
  Thus did he speak; whereon they did even as he had said and set out,
King Agamemnon leading the way.
  Meanwhile Neptune had kept no blind look-out, and came up to them in
the semblance of an old man. He took Agamemnon’s right hand in his own
and said, “Son of Atreus, I take it Achilles is glad now that he
sees the Achaeans routed and slain, for he is utterly without remorse-
may he come to a bad end and heaven confound him. As for yourself, the
blessed gods are not yet so bitterly angry with you but that the
princes and counsellors of the Trojans shall again raise the dust upon
the plain, and you shall see them flying from the ships and tents
towards their city.”
  With this he raised a mighty cry of battle, and sped forward to
the plain. The voice that came from his deep chest was as that of nine
or ten thousand men when they are shouting in the thick of a fight,
and it put fresh courage into the hearts of the Achaeans to wage war
and do battle without ceasing.
  Juno of the golden throne looked down as she stood upon a peak of
Olympus and her heart was gladdened at the sight of him who was at
once her brother and her brother-in-law, hurrying hither and thither
amid the fighting. Then she turned her eyes to Jove as he sat on the
topmost crests of many-fountained Ida, and loathed him. She set
herself to think how she might hoodwink him, and in the end she deemed
that it would be best for her to go to Ida and array herself in rich
attire, in the hope that Jove might become enamoured of her, and
wish to embrace her. While he was thus engaged a sweet and careless
sleep might be made to steal over his eyes and senses.
  She went, therefore, to the room which her son Vulcan had made
her, and the doors of which he had cunningly fastened by means of a
secret key so that no other god could open them. Here she entered
and closed the doors behind her. She cleansed all the dirt from her
fair body with ambrosia, then she anointed herself with olive oil,
ambrosial, very soft, and scented specially for herself—if it were so
much as shaken in the bronze-floored house of Jove, the scent pervaded
the universe of heaven and earth. With this she anointed her
delicate skin, and then she plaited the fair ambrosial locks that
flowed in a stream of golden tresses from her immortal head. She put
on the wondrous robe which Minerva had worked for her with
consummate art, and had embroidered with manifold devices; she
fastened it about her ***** with golden clasps, and she girded herself
with a girdle that had a hundred tassels: then she fastened her
earrings, three brilliant pendants that glistened most beautifully,
through the pierced lobes of her ears, and threw a lovely new veil
over her head. She bound her sandals on to her feet, and when she
had arrayed herself perfectly to her satisfaction, she left her room
and called Venus to come aside and speak to her. “My dear child,” said
she, “will you do what I am going to ask of you, or will refuse me
because you are angry at my being on the Danaan side, while you are on
the Trojan?”
  Jove’s daughter Venus answered, “Juno, august queen of goddesses,
daughter of mighty Saturn, say what you want, and I will do it for
at once, if I can, and if it can be done at all.”
  Then Juno told her a lying tale and said, “I want you to endow me
with some of those fascinating charms, the spells of which bring all
things mortal and immortal to your feet. I am going to the world’s end
to visit Oceanus (from whom all we gods proceed) and mother Tethys:
they received me in their house, took care of me, and brought me up,
having taken me over from Rhaea when Jove imprisoned great Saturn in
the depths that are under earth and sea. I must go and see them that I
may make peace between them; they have been quarrelling, and are so
angry that they have not slept with one another this long while; if
I can bring them round and restore them to one another’s embraces,
they will be grateful to me and love me for ever afterwards.”
  Thereon laughter-loving Venus said, “I cannot and must not refuse
you, for you sleep in the arms of Jove who is our king.”
  As she spoke she loosed from her ***** the curiously embroidered
girdle into which all her charms had been wrought—love, desire, and
that sweet flattery which steals the judgement even of the most
prudent. She gave the girdle to Juno and said, “Take this girdle
wherein all my charms reside and lay it in your *****. If you will
wear it I promise you that your errand, be it what it may, will not be
bootless.”
  When she heard this Juno smiled, and still smiling she laid the
girdle in her *****.
  Venus now went back into the house of Jove, while Juno darted down
from the summits of Olympus. She passed over Pieria and fair
Emathia, and went on and on till she came to the snowy ranges of the
Thracian horsemen, over whose topmost crests she sped without ever
setting foot to ground. When she came to Athos she went on over the,
waves of the sea till she reached Lemnos, the city of noble Thoas.
There she met Sleep, own brother to Death, and caught him by the hand,
saying, “Sleep, you who lord it alike over mortals and immortals, if
you ever did me a service in times past, do one for me now, and I
shall be grateful to you ever after. Close Jove’s keen eyes for me
in slumber while I hold him clasped in my embrace, and I will give you
a beautiful golden seat, that can never fall to pieces; my
clubfooted son Vulcan shall make it for you, and he shall give it a
footstool for you to rest your fair feet upon when you are at table.”
  Then Sleep answered, “Juno, great queen of goddesses, daughter of
mighty Saturn, I would lull any other of the gods to sleep without
compunction, not even excepting the waters of Oceanus from whom all of
them proceed, but I dare not go near Jove, nor send him to sleep
unless he bids me. I have had one lesson already through doing what
you asked me, on the day when Jove’s mighty son Hercules set sail from
Ilius after having sacked the city of the Trojans. At your bidding I
suffused my sweet self over the mind of aegis-bearing Jove, and laid
him to rest; meanwhile you hatched a plot against Hercules, and set
the blasts of the angry winds beating upon the sea, till you took
him to the goodly city of Cos away from all his friends. Jove was
furious when he awoke, and began hurling the gods about all over the
house; he was looking more particularly for myself, and would have
flung me down through space into the sea where I should never have
been heard of any more, had not Night who cows both men and gods
protected me. I fled to her and Jove left off looking for me in
spite of his being so angry, for he did not dare do anything to
displease Night. And now you are again asking me to do something on
which I cannot venture.”
  And Juno said, “Sleep, why do you take such notions as those into
your head? Do you think Jove will be as anxious to help the Trojans,
as he was about his own son? Come, I will marry you to one of the
youngest of the Graces, and she shall be your own—Pasithea, whom
you have always wanted to marry.”
  Sleep was pleased when he heard this, and answered, “Then swear it
to me by the dread waters of the river Styx; lay one hand on the
bounteous earth, and the other on the sheen of the sea, so that all
the gods who dwell down below with Saturn may be our witnesses, and
see that you really do give me one of the youngest of the Graces-
Pasithea, whom I have always wanted to marry.”
  Juno did as he had said. She swore, and invoked all the gods of
the nether world, who are called Titans, to witness. When she had
completed her oath, the two enshrouded themselves in a thick mist
and sped lightly forward, leaving Lemnos and Imbrus behind them.
Presently they reached many-fountained Ida, mother of wild beasts, and
Lectum where they left the sea to go on by land, and the tops of the
trees of the forest soughed under the going of their feet. Here
Sleep halted, and ere Jove caught sight of him he climbed a lofty
pine-tree—the tallest that reared its head towards heaven on all Ida.
He hid himself behind the branches and sat there in the semblance of
the sweet-singing bird that haunts the mountains and is called Chalcis
by the gods, but men call it Cymindis. Juno then went to Gargarus, the
topmost peak of Ida, and Jove, driver of the clouds, set eyes upon
her. As soon as he did so he became inflamed with the same
passionate desire for her that he had felt when they had first enjoyed
each other’s embraces, and slept with one another without their dear
parents knowing anything about it. He went up to her and said, “What
do you want that you have come hither from Olympus—and that too
with neither chariot nor horses to convey you?”
  Then Juno told him a lying tale and said, “I am going to the world’s
end, to visit Oceanus, from whom all we gods proceed, and mother
Tethys; they received me into their house, took care of me, and
brought me up. I must go and see them that I may make peace between
them: they have been quarrelling, and are so angry that they have
not slept with one another this long time. The horses that will take
me over land and sea are stationed on the lowermost spurs of
many-fountained Ida, and I have come here from Olympus on purpose to
consult you
zebra Jan 2017
for some
their sexuality
is intimately tied
to curves and licks of pain
and their own
abject destruction
trussed, ornate
for a brutality
that accentuates
****** lucidity
in the dark caverns
of a perforceive mind
and o so willing body
which
like bruised piano keys
in a triumphant concerto
of ecstasy
aspires
to be played hard
like Rachmaninoff's
beaten ivories
finding immense pleasure
in constant crises
stretched
between the entwined
demand of desire
and the need
for a
a depraved ritual
of exquisite subservience
imposed
by an idyllic master

sweeten the world
my darling
honey machine
industrious slave
bend my beloved
like the weighted ridge pole
are you ready to break
oh princess
of cruel inflictions
that intoxicate
with onerous dark thrills
the sway of your writhe
where pleasure is piqued
by perfect suffering

blood glitter paradise

she beckons
from hells shadowed doorway
enter my love

enter
Aaron Driver Mar 2012
Absolute answers are atrocious,
Nothing can cover anything entirely,
Forget the testament of corruption,
Lost is practical thought.
The will to power is buried in instruction,
On how to live and what to believe,
A barrier erected; scarred by destruction.
No way to make a breach.
The others are trapped , at least from my perspective,
they perceive with their mind, for their eyes are useless behind a wall.
The see only up, into an empty sky,
The world is controlled behind their wall.
Forget the testament of corruption,
Than the wall, shall fall.
Now when Jove had thus brought Hector and the Trojans to the
ships, he left them to their never-ending toil, and turned his keen
eyes away, looking elsewhither towards the horse-breeders of Thrace,
the Mysians, fighters at close quarters, the noble Hippemolgi, who
live on milk, and the Abians, justest of mankind. He no longer
turned so much as a glance towards Troy, for he did not think that any
of the immortals would go and help either Trojans or Danaans.
  But King Neptune had kept no blind look-out; he had been looking
admiringly on the battle from his seat on the topmost crests of wooded
Samothrace, whence he could see all Ida, with the city of Priam and
the ships of the Achaeans. He had come from under the sea and taken
his place here, for he pitied the Achaeans who were being overcome
by the Trojans; and he was furiously angry with Jove.
  Presently he came down from his post on the mountain top, and as
he strode swiftly onwards the high hills and the forest quaked beneath
the tread of his immortal feet. Three strides he took, and with the
fourth he reached his goal—Aegae, where is his glittering golden
palace, imperishable, in the depths of the sea. When he got there,
he yoked his fleet brazen-footed steeds with their manes of gold all
flying in the wind; he clothed himself in raiment of gold, grasped his
gold whip, and took his stand upon his chariot. As he went his way
over the waves the sea-monsters left their lairs, for they knew
their lord, and came gambolling round him from every quarter of the
deep, while the sea in her gladness opened a path before his
chariot. So lightly did the horses fly that the bronze axle of the car
was not even wet beneath it; and thus his bounding steeds took him
to the ships of the Achaeans.
  Now there is a certain huge cavern in the depths of the sea midway
between Tenedos and rocky Imbrus; here Neptune lord of the
earthquake stayed his horses, unyoked them, and set before them
their ambrosial forage. He hobbled their feet with hobbles of gold
which none could either unloose or break, so that they might stay
there in that place until their lord should return. This done he
went his way to the host of the Achaeans.
  Now the Trojans followed Hector son of Priam in close array like a
storm-cloud or flame of fire, fighting with might and main and raising
the cry battle; for they deemed that they should take the ships of the
Achaeans and **** all their chiefest heroes then and there.
Meanwhile earth-encircling Neptune lord of the earthquake cheered on
the Argives, for he had come up out of the sea and had assumed the
form and voice of Calchas.
  First he spoke to the two Ajaxes, who were doing their best already,
and said, “Ajaxes, you two can be the saving of the Achaeans if you
will put out all your strength and not let yourselves be daunted. I am
not afraid that the Trojans, who have got over the wall in force, will
be victorious in any other part, for the Achaeans can hold all of them
in check, but I much fear that some evil will befall us here where
furious Hector, who boasts himself the son of great Jove himself, is
leading them on like a pillar of flame. May some god, then, put it
into your hearts to make a firm stand here, and to incite others to do
the like. In this case you will drive him from the ships even though
he be inspired by Jove himself.”
  As he spoke the earth-encircling lord of the earthquake struck
both of them with his sceptre and filled their hearts with daring.
He made their legs light and active, as also their hands and their
feet. Then, as the soaring falcon poises on the wing high above some
sheer rock, and presently swoops down to chase some bird over the
plain, even so did Neptune lord of the earthquake wing his flight into
the air and leave them. Of the two, swift Ajax son of Oileus was the
first to know who it was that had been speaking with them, and said to
Ajax son of Telamon, “Ajax, this is one of the gods that dwell on
Olympus, who in the likeness of the prophet is bidding us fight hard
by our ships. It was not Calchas the seer and diviner of omens; I knew
him at once by his feet and knees as he turned away, for the gods
are soon recognised. Moreover I feel the lust of battle burn more
fiercely within me, while my hands and my feet under me are more eager
for the fray.”
  And Ajax son of Telamon answered, “I too feel my hands grasp my
spear more firmly; my strength is greater, and my feet more nimble;
I long, moreover, to meet furious Hector son of Priam, even in
single combat.”
  Thus did they converse, exulting in the hunger after battle with
which the god had filled them. Meanwhile the earth-encircler roused
the Achaeans, who were resting in the rear by the ships overcome at
once by hard fighting and by grief at seeing that the Trojans had
got over the wall in force. Tears began falling from their eyes as
they beheld them, for they made sure that they should not escape
destruction; but the lord of the earthquake passed lightly about among
them and urged their battalions to the front.
  First he went up to Teucer and Leitus, the hero Peneleos, and
Thoas and Deipyrus; Meriones also and Antilochus, valiant warriors;
all did he exhort. “Shame on you young Argives,” he cried, “it was
on your prowess I relied for the saving of our ships; if you fight not
with might and main, this very day will see us overcome by the
Trojans. Of a truth my eyes behold a great and terrible portent
which I had never thought to see—the Trojans at our ships—they,
who were heretofore like panic-stricken hinds, the prey of jackals and
wolves in a forest, with no strength but in flight for they cannot
defend themselves. Hitherto the Trojans dared not for one moment
face the attack of the Achaeans, but now they have sallied far from
their city and are fighting at our very ships through the cowardice of
our leader and the disaffection of the people themselves, who in their
discontent care not to fight in defence of the ships but are being
slaughtered near them. True, King Agamemnon son of Atreus is the cause
of our disaster by having insulted the son of Peleus, still this is no
reason why we should leave off fighting. Let us be quick to heal,
for the hearts of the brave heal quickly. You do ill to be thus
remiss, you, who are the finest soldiers in our whole army. I blame no
man for keeping out of battle if he is a weakling, but I am
indignant with such men as you are. My good friends, matters will soon
become even worse through this slackness; think, each one of you, of
his own honour and credit, for the hazard of the fight is extreme.
Great Hector is now fighting at our ships; he has broken through the
gates and the strong bolt that held them.”
  Thus did the earth-encircler address the Achaeans and urge them
on. Thereon round the two Ajaxes there gathered strong bands of men,
of whom not even Mars nor Minerva, marshaller of hosts could make
light if they went among them, for they were the picked men of all
those who were now awaiting the onset of Hector and the Trojans.
They made a living fence, spear to spear, shield to shield, buckler to
buckler, helmet to helmet, and man to man. The horse-hair crests on
their gleaming helmets touched one another as they nodded forward,
so closely seffied were they; the spears they brandished in their
strong hands were interlaced, and their hearts were set on battle.
  The Trojans advanced in a dense body, with Hector at their head
pressing right on as a rock that comes thundering down the side of
some mountain from whose brow the winter torrents have torn it; the
foundations of the dull thing have been loosened by floods of rain,
and as it bounds headlong on its way it sets the whole forest in an
uproar; it swerves neither to right nor left till it reaches level
ground, but then for all its fury it can go no further—even so easily
did Hector for a while seem as though he would career through the
tents and ships of the Achaeans till he had reached the sea in his
murderous course; but the closely serried battalions stayed him when
he reached them, for the sons of the Achaeans ****** at him with
swords and spears pointed at both ends, and drove him from them so
that he staggered and gave ground; thereon he shouted to the
Trojans, “Trojans, Lycians, and Dardanians, fighters in close
combat, stand firm: the Achaeans have set themselves as a wall against
me, but they will not check me for long; they will give ground
before me if the mightiest of the gods, the thundering spouse of Juno,
has indeed inspired my onset.”
  With these words he put heart and soul into them all. Deiphobus
son of Priam went about among them intent on deeds of daring with
his round shield before him, under cover of which he strode quickly
forward. Meriones took aim at him with a spear, nor did he fail to hit
the broad orb of ox-hide; but he was far from piercing it for the
spear broke in two pieces long ere he could do so; moreover
Deiphobus had seen it coming and had held his shield well away from
him. Meriones drew back under cover of his comrades, angry alike at
having failed to vanquish Deiphobus, and having broken his spear. He
turned therefore towards the ships and tents to fetch a spear which he
had left behind in his tent.
  The others continued fighting, and the cry of battle rose up into
the heavens. Teucer son of Telamon was the first to **** his man, to
wit, the warrior Imbrius son of Mentor rich in horses. Until the
Achaeans came he had lived in Pedaeum, and had married Medesicaste a
******* daughter of Priam; but on the arrival of the Danaan fleet he
had gone back to Ilius, and was a great man among the Trojans,
dwelling near Priam himself, who gave him like honour with his own
sons. The son of Telamon now struck him under the ear with a spear
which he then drew back again, and Imbrius fell headlong as an
ash-tree when it is felled on the crest of some high mountain
beacon, and its delicate green foliage comes toppling down to the
ground. Thus did he fall with his bronze-dight armour ringing
harshly round him, and Teucer sprang forward with intent to strip
him of his armour; but as he was doing so, Hector took aim at him with
a spear. Teucer saw the spear coming and swerved aside, whereon it hit
Amphimachus, son of Cteatus son of Actor, in the chest as he was
coming into battle, and his armour rang rattling round him as he
fell heavily to the ground. Hector sprang forward to take
Amphimachus’s helmet from off his temples, and in a moment Ajax
threw a spear at him, but did not wound him, for he was encased all
over in his terrible armour; nevertheless the spear struck the boss of
his shield with such force as to drive him back from the two
corpses, which the Achaeans then drew off. Stichius and Menestheus,
captains of the Athenians, bore away Amphimachus to the host of the
Achaeans, while the two brave and impetuous Ajaxes did the like by
Imbrius. As two lions ****** a goat from the hounds that have it in
their fangs, and bear it through thick brushwood high above the ground
in their jaws, thus did the Ajaxes bear aloft the body of Imbrius, and
strip it of its armour. Then the son of Oileus severed the head from
the neck in revenge for the death of Amphimachus, and sent it whirling
over the crowd as though it had been a ball, till fell in the dust
at Hector’s feet.
  Neptune was exceedingly angry that his grandson Amphimachus should
have fallen; he therefore went to the tents and ships of the
Achaeans to urge the Danaans still further, and to devise evil for the
Trojans. Idomeneus met him, as he was taking leave of a comrade, who
had just come to him from the fight, wounded in the knee. His
fellow-soldiers bore him off the field, and Idomeneus having given
orders to the physicians went on to his tent, for he was still
thirsting for battle. Neptune spoke in the likeness and with the voice
of Thoas son of Andraemon who ruled the Aetolians of all Pleuron and
high Calydon, and was honoured among his people as though he were a
god. “Idomeneus,” said he, “lawgiver to the Cretans, what has now
become of the threats with which the sons of the Achaeans used to
threaten the Trojans?”
  And Idomeneus chief among the Cretans answered, “Thoas, no one, so
far as I know, is in fault, for we can all fight. None are held back
neither by fear nor slackness, but it seems to be the of almighty Jove
that the Achaeans should perish ingloriously here far from Argos: you,
Thoas, have been always staunch, and you keep others in heart if you
see any fail in duty; be not then remiss now, but exhort all to do
their utmost.”
  To this Neptune lord of the earthquake made answer, “Idomeneus,
may he never return from Troy, but remain here for dogs to batten
upon, who is this day wilfully slack in fighting. Get your armour
and go, we must make all haste together if we may be of any use,
though we are only two. Even cowards gain courage from
companionship, and we two can hold our own with the bravest.”
  Therewith the god went back into the thick of the fight, and
Idomeneus when he had reached his tent donned his armour, grasped
his two spears, and sallied forth. As the lightning which the son of
Saturn brandishes from bright Olympus when he would show a sign to
mortals, and its gleam flashes far and wide—even so did his armour
gleam about him as he ran. Meriones his sturdy squire met him while he
was still near his tent (for he was going to fetch his spear) and
Idomeneus said
  “Meriones, fleet son of Molus, best of comrades, why have you left
the field? Are you wounded, and is the point of the weapon hurting
you? or have you been sent to fetch me? I want no fetching; I had
far rather fight than stay in my tent.”
  “Idomeneus,” answered Meriones, “I come for a spear, if I can find
one in my tent; I have broken the one I had, in throwing it at the
shield of Deiphobus.”
  And Idomeneus captain of the Cretans answered, “You will find one
spear, or twenty if you so please, standing up against the end wall of
my tent. I have taken them from Trojans whom I have killed, for I am
not one to keep my enemy at arm’s length; therefore I have spears,
bossed shields, helmets, and burnished corslets.”
  Then Meriones said, “I too in my tent and at my ship have spoils
taken from the Trojans, but they are not at hand. I have been at all
times valorous, and wherever there has been hard fighting have held my
own among the foremost. There may be those among the Achaeans who do
not know how I fight, but you know it well enough yourself.”
  Idomeneus answered, “I know you for a brave man: you need not tell
me. If the best men at the ships were being chosen to go on an ambush-
and there is nothing like this for showing what a man is made of; it
comes out then who is cowardly and who brave; the coward will change
colour at every touch and turn; he is full of fears, and keeps
shifting his weight first on one knee and then on the other; his heart
beats fast as he thinks of death, and one can hear the chattering of
his teeth; whereas the brave man will not change colour nor be on
finding himself in ambush, but is all the time longing to go into
action—if the best men were being chosen for such a service, no one
could make light of your courage nor feats of arms. If you were struck
by a dart or smitten in close combat, it would not be from behind,
in your neck nor back, but the weapon would hit you in the chest or
belly as you were pressing forward to a place in the front ranks.
But let us no longer stay here talking like children, lest we be ill
spoken of; go, fetch your spear from the tent at once.”
  On this Meriones, peer of Mars, went to the tent and got himself a
spear of bronze. He then followed after Idomeneus, big with great
deeds of valour. As when baneful Mars sallies forth to battle, and his
son Panic so strong and dauntless goes with him, to strike terror even
into the heart of a hero—the pair have gone from Thrace to arm
themselves among the Ephyri or the brave Phlegyans, but they will
not listen to both the contending hosts, and will give victory to
one side or to the other—even so did Meriones and Idomeneus, captains
of m
j a connor Jan 2023
in the darkness
I sit
I wait
for what
I don't know
why are we here
we are surplus to requirements in a world that does not need us
all life has a purpose
except
humans
what do we contribute to the planet but grief
war
destruction
self interest
nothing of value to the existence of Earth
and yet
we have the arrogance to suggest we are the solution
GO FIGURE
Joey Austin Dec 2012
Sand paper bags scratch empty city streets, like nails on chalkboards.  It’s amazing how silence can be scary.  I gaze upon empty playground grass, the rampant, rapacious children are no longer able to climb jungle gyms to be king of the world.  Why?  I believe someone invited the Devil to dinner. He scorched earth and burnt tears in barren city streets, I alone see the beauty in the destruction.  Amongst anguish and anger, lies pure serenity.  An ending is just as beautiful as a beginning, like light to files, I’m addicted to pain.  If you’ll allow me, I’d like to show you how demise is perfect.  It’s starts with a smile, broken.  Too many demons spiting languages of hot lava that sounds similar to the solar maximum, It’s my mind that breaks from reality.  Unstable and unappreciated, pain is the only way I can rid the stress, So I have believed.  Starting like a headache, addicting like ****** or cough syrup, The rush of blood spiraling round my upper thigh is something I used to look forward to,
It was the only thing I could say I did for myself.  
Moments spilled into months, months pouring into one self-inflicting year, If only I could show the buckets I filled with the sadness I was afraid to share with the world.  I finally put the blades away when I made a mother watch her baby boy dig scissors into his wrists.  Rosy-red cheeks and rain-drop tears slipping down her face was enough to know I could I do better. I needed to do better.  So, I washed the blood away, erasing every past memory I thought I should regret.  I know life is no ethcy-sketch, the marks I once was proud of bare the same weight of shame.  I consider my addiction to be my savior.  If I never landed on rock bottom, I would never know the power it takes to stand back up.  Now I wake among empty city streets, Sand paper bags sit silently, It’s amazing how silence can be comforting.  I alone see the beauty behind the monster that tore apart my freckled canvas. I look at the Devil in the mirror.
Dinner is finished.
cozy april Aug 2013
I only see the dim of
Black and white,
In my old home,
We never saw anything worth seeing
Just hate,
Destruction,
And lonliness.
Never had i seen one color,
I never knew the
Wonderful site,
Of even our ethnic rainbows,
How different we all are,
And I'm not alone,
Now In my new home,
I'm in a place with purple walls,
And rainbow curtains.
No fear,
Or loathing,
Just my happiness in beautiful
Colors I had never seen in my gloomy past.

a.s.
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.
brandon nagley Jun 2015
.. Awake oh world..awake 2015.. This is not a dream, a public announcement!!An endorsement of fiery destruction will reign upon earthly cities. A crossing of no pity. For twas predicted long ago...
Thy lands will be cleansed as snow. Howl and moan/ for trees will be scorched a twist! Thy eye sockets wilt be ripped and headache wilt be a molehill for thou!!!
Banks wilst crumble, babies shalt mumble as in Noah's day!!!what's wrong? No loving songs, to the devil you'll make a parade!!!!
Thou clown of display, skies will grey and stars shalt be fiercesome and almighty as thy green greedied dollar!!!
Here's thy collar, oh don't forget thy new world chip, for all younger days and innocence you'll wish thou couldst return!!!! Return to thy own dust oh man!!!for its lives thou took, now thy life to be given!!! No feast of thanksgiving! Can't thou read the scribes writing?
Blind thou hath been for over 2000 years, stack thy gold corrupted by moss in thy underground cellar!!!fighter, yeller!
Cop brutality shalt get much worse! Violence will between thou sister and brother! Canst thou not changeth thine own way? Mummified curse indeed! Pigfeed you've become to ones who blow the horns! Watch out/move.....don't get burned!!!!volcanic destruction will match quakes to rattle thy mortars, for climatic borders will be bound by new order charisma!!!!hope!!hope!!the crowd yells to their thorned crown king!!!2015 the year of the blood moon! The year of thine own final sting!!!!
Robert Ronnow Aug 2015
Wet nights, warm days are what we want in the summer
      noosphere.
Man's mind one with weather.
If this is true, life is good, or will be good.
Can I be encouraged that my sons will find mystery on the
      planet
as I did?

How sweet the slow spring! May already and the canopy
      not out yet.
Woods quiet all winter.
Now I can't distinguish the many bird songs from where I sit.
Red maple flowers and first sugar maple leaves are, to me,
      the Christ child
that's been coming.

The ancient poems and the new make the 1/10 inch of annual
      topsoil
from carbon dioxide loading.
As a humanist I want everyone pursuing happiness; as a
      naturalist
I sometimes pray for man's destruction. As a rationalist I admit
I lack data.

O to play slow and sure, even when the tune is fast. Inside an
      aquifer
of love for the audience.
Not to fear or even necessarily obey the changing wind's
direction. Being here I breathe and make the atmosphere as
      seen
from outer space.

The song of the world will often take you far from yourself.
      There
will be no self. How will you know yourself?
By knowing thyme and dandelion, the blue jay from the hawk,
the heron in its swamp, black cherries and the one pear at the
      junction of the trails.
They are yourself.
www.ronnowpoetry.com
morgan Feb 2014
she's sixteen
and can already
tell you everything
about self destruction.

she can tell you how
to dress fresh cuts,
in the dark with
makeshift bandages.

and which foods are
easy to throw up.

she knows a thousand
excuses; "i already ate
"im just cold"
"it was the cat"

she's learned to hold
all her feelings inside
until late at night,
and cover her mouth
with her hands so
no one hears her.

she's perfected
her fake smile.

and she's been taught
oh so painfully
to build her walls up
high, to keep everyone out.
Pooja Shah Dec 2013
We all try to keep away something from prying eyes,
Something we always hide, pretending to be nice,
We make other's opinions our priority, ours go for a sacrifice,
And no one can exist freely here , there is always a price.

We think we are civilized, in every way, we are better behaved,
And we assume that we are the best, the reason humanity is saved,
We don't realize, that due to our doings, the path of evil is already getting paved,
The truth is, we are indeed humane monsters, and destruction is what , by us, is craved.

We might have been angels, guiding others, helping them to grow ,
But, we choose the darker side, the seeds of evilness is what we sow,
We might have avoided the wars, the battles, the endless bitter rows,
Yet, we ignored the consequences, and the devil inside us, now keeps us on our toes.

Even though we serve the devils inside us with limitless devotion,
The angels stay on our side, support us, as they are a Divine creation,
They slowly whisper to our conscience,"Let there be, inside you , no friction!"
The real you, is the loving spiritual being, that humane monster is all but a delusion.

Let us not hide the loving, caring and affectionate being , behind the masks,
And always remember, creating , not destroying the path of love, is our task,
The stream of affection and divinity is right beneath us, let yourself, in it bask,
Get rid of that humane monster, and let us live without fear or pretension, and survive till the very last.
Today,let the angel within you take over,and spread Love :)
Devilgirlzdream Apr 2013
The darkness. It's surrounding me with horror and death. The nightmares that are coming to life. The depth of the hole inside of my heart. The reason that people scream, but the why we do what we do throughout our lives is nothing more than complete destruction. Killing everything in sight. Breathing the air that"s evil like nothing else. Becoming the devil within. The type of people that want to change me, and the people who are using me to get something that they don't deserve. Life, it's just seems like a lovely wild ride to be on, but trust me it's hell on wheels. And you're not ever gonna get off this ride.
ConnectHook Sep 2015
☺♥☺♥☺♥☺♥

The worst will be found toward the end of the book
When you’re scanning the lines of a weighty anthology.
Centuries have shaken what works can be shook,
and what’s old is refined – and I make no apology.

Angst-ridden ramblings, so fashionably bleak
Start appearing somewhere past the middle, I fear
With those modernist psyches, whose raggedly weak
and depressing confessions sling mud in the ear.

Like the scribblers of Suicide, brimming with bile
or the autodestructive self-pitying ******,
whose quaint observations enshrining the vile
are a crime against life – and an art for the loser.

You ideologues, with your axes to grind,
propagandizing causes in militant styles
ought to  stay in the hills, where the struggle is defined,
and spare us the old dialectical wiles.

The Feminist scribe, with her *** for a mouth,
Ever pressing her case, for fallopian reasons
Grows saggingly sterile. Her muses fly south
with the passing of harvests and goddessless seasons.

Absurdists, surrealists, and nihilist mystics
whose hymns to destruction make glory of chaos
should leave the black humor to God and ballistics.
Your poems, like Judas, are bound to betray us.

The Freudian flirt (whose neuroses abound),
And the Jungian shamans (their animas, too),
ought to rest on their couches. Why should they be found
By the wellsprings of Spirit, whose guidance is true.

The art-lover’s lines gild a frame around Knowledge.
Their poems are like an art history course.
As they flit past the idols they studied in college
their name-dropping odes are a grand tour-de–force.

Sixties drug-revelers, love beads a-jingle
And brothers dashiki-clad, howling at Nixon
no longer strike chords in my soul. Not a single sitar lick
nor visions of hippie-chick *****.

You rhymers and rappers of rhythms in sample
Whose words like a kick-drum send shock through old Whitey
Now cease from your chanting. The genre is ample.
Your gangstering paeans are too fly-by-nighty.

Revived Roman legions, who relish things Latin;
Your martial convictions inspire the hero.
But while you are looking for cities to flatten,
remember – old Julius was nobler than Nero.

The theme of World Peace –  this crops up near the ending:
a desperate hope for New-Agers and liberals,
who cherish a dream of reality-bending
Through networking, magic, and energized crystals…

But what can be shaken shall perish, forgotten.
Anthologies show us that truth is enduring.
All praises and laurels shall prove misbegotten.
The Word become flesh is the most reassuring.

So I leave the anthology, closing its cover.
Three-quarters at least seemed like nonsense to me.
Yet still, I admit, I’m a poetry lover.
Let time do its work and in future – we’ll see…
https://connecthook.wordpress.com/mine/various/

☺♥☺♥☺♥☺♥
xx Nov 2015
Love is like
your favorite
superhero --
it brings salvation
along with
its destruction.

Love is like
the air we breathe --
felt by our senses
except for the eyes.

Love is like
a sincere prayer --
where our hopes
and dreams
are being kept.

Love is like
a faithful devotion --
the act of being loyal,
of being truthful,
and committed.

Love is like
a memory --
lives through the years;
immortal when
scripted on pages.

Love is like
the promises --
uttered from
many years ago;
by a lover, to
a wishing well,
or to a falling star.

Because love
is something
you can never
hold on to;
but can only
believe in.
Sanket Shrestha Aug 2014
I couldn't make up my mind on who she was. Really,
A premonition? Foreboding an inevitable storm
Or the storm's aftermath;
All dull and vivid juxtaposed in parallel reflection
Yet even though debris seemed to follow the destruction around her,
The centre of all the chaos was calm, grey
I called her Grey
She liked it
She thought it resembled a fading, translucent characteristic within her that most people seemed to miss without confirming a second look
"It’s like you lifted my eye-lids with clamps-long and hard enough to gaze and wonder just who I was"
That the easy facade on her outside was just a complex elaborate hoax and her intricacies were much simpler inside
But even with all my sensors of human emotion detection and learning to wade and blend through
derelict sage-nuances
I still couldn't figure her out
For I wasn't sure what she was:
A premonition or an aftermath of new color.

She was always Grey
Ignatius Hosiana Apr 2015
We could have hiked Mt.Happily ever after
And probably swam in Lake Laughter
We would have flown in hope airways
If you didn't change your ways
We would have toured inspiration springs
We would have exchanged vows and rings
I could have made a great bride
But now that you've wounded my pride

Just witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise

We might have been quite imperfect
Something about which we didn't care
But we still tried to reach there
While we kept our mutual respect
Our affair was a race to reckon
A corn which haters tried to peck on
We could have changed the trend
I don't believe that it really was the end

So witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise

You left me with a deadly kind of freedom
A kind that chains the soul in a prison
You crippled the feet I could use to start again
So I'm constantly flying on cloud nine
Totally fooled my heart to believe you was mine
Only to drop it from high, causing more pain

Witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise

It could have been a better story than cinderella
During the rains would have been your umbrella
The hugs and kisses were worthwhile
We could have gone longer than the Nile
That's why I can't believe you've forgotten
Yet within me It's no where near rotten
Could have shared with the world our paradigm
We could have had a pyramidic paradise

Witness destruction in paradise
Witness the change of the paradigm
See for yourself with your own eyes
You was no Angel but devil in disguise
It's a reggae song I just composed
Alexis J Meighan Aug 2013
Saturday morning cartoons in the late 80's

Beeeeeep
Beeeep
Beep!

Blankets get thrown
Quick yawn and a stretch
And I'm gone.

Run to the cabinet grab my rescuer's toothbrush and colgate.
Its the total complete toothpaste
Brushing frantically in the pantry and I grab the frosty flake
You know they're  Greeeeeeeat.

Get to the sink and rinse with a swift swish and a spit.

Done with that, as I dig through the drawers for my plastic Punch Bowl.
Pour in the entire box of cereal and a half gallon of liquid gold

6:53am tap the power button on the remote control, stack all the pillows and blankets in the middle of the room, 5 min left till my favorite shows

7am and it begins, Spider-man and his amazing friends 7:30 and its the Wonder Twins
Commercial break for school house rock,
go take a ****
then switch my cereal to cookie crisp

8am silver hawks and the copper kid,
8:30 voltron black lion forms the head
While thunder cats at 9am battle Mumm-Ra the un-dead

930 pound puppies that was my thing
Bright eyes, violet, and cooler was the man
When 10am came that meant the shows were coming to an end.
That half-hour reserved for Prince Adam of Eternia better known as He-man

And the last of the shows came after 1030 to 11o'clock. Here came "the Little's" cuz the Little's don't stop.

The sunlight peaking through the blinds, 11 years old, cereal all gone spazzed on a sugar rush, Waiting to play with my cousins.
Grandma picks me up from uncle Gary then off to Dain and Tony for destruction, bike race, GI Joe and burgers from Rally's
Those were the days
The good ol days

-Alexis J. Meighan-
July 13 at 8:11pm ·
I search alone
for my home
For my people
For my steeple
journey to explore
open every door
who am I
My third eye
Will show n tell
keep away spell
of self destruction
To escape my hell
A trapped ****
self built hut
I breaking free
To finally be ME
Saw the site before I knew it I sent above it was weird now I think about it.
thinklef Jul 2013
IT HAS HAPPENED AGAIN,
Its alright they say,
Raise your head high and pray,
Nobody has time to play,
Its another day,
Everyone wanna be on the spotlight,
It has become more frightening,
Turn on the news at 5,
It's another fight,
Everyone is fighting for their right,
Just to see the light,
It's a gunfight,
All we see is candlelight,
Only few could see the night,
I remember back in the days ,
When we play in our place,
Sand on our face,
As we ran in the race.
But its too late,
The memories has faded,
All in the name of war,
We stare at the sunlight,
the world is changing each and every day,
The days are becoming dark,
the hearts turning black,
The minds are becoming wide,
the people are turning aggressive,
A beautiful world full of happiness & laughter,
Caught in between a raging war,
the innocent were murdered,
by men of war,
With solid guns,
Who spare no life in battlefield,
Spraying to destruction & death as if they weren't
meant to be,
I see humans, but no humanity."
Insane u were born,
Hypocrites you have become,
Hell you will abide,
If only u knew,
Life is not yours,
If only you understood,
War has options,
If only u could think,
Am only 18
Acting like a teen ,
trying to survive within time,
to live and fight another day!
Ottar Apr 2013
There are many wiser people, (wo)man,
where, wiser words, phrases that people can
say,
but  speak with love from lips with a,
voice, of reason with grace in time, peace, one day
mercy,
will be the contagion that will infect,
all, these are not soft words to find, to dissect,
great,
loss to learn, and more to achieve, demand,
cost, many lives and hard lessons, over and
over,
are we learning slowly or is the cause, wheels of
suspicion, turning on one another, afraid of strange ideals, of
who,
we are as people that say wise words, destruction
changing, not the greed, the need to be that percent, the seduction,
out,
of reach, out of touch, soiled-free lives, unrealistic
among, a common world, of uncommon people, heuristic
amazing,
solutions in lives where character is determined by the
grit, of coarse!

The globe spins,
smoother with
each rotation,
what winds,
blow us to
the ground , do
you stay down
or get back
up to meet
the next
blustery gust?
Today can you count the puns -1 or more...
The rhythm is stutter stop, just like they way we as HUMANS have
p r o b l e m s
F Alexis Jan 2017
Trouble in a suitjacket,
Tailored as his words were
When he cornered me
That night.

And here I thought
Horoscopes
Were all but *******,
Yet I met him
Exactly where
That ******* article
Said I would.

I started to pray.

He started to prey.

Darkness in his eyes,
Danger on his lips,
Destruction in his mind.
Hell's very finest,
Promising to overthrow
My sworn solitude for
This new year.

Come Friday night,
We step beneath
The world,
Into romance infernal,
As my resolve
Goes up
In flames.

Father,
Forgive me now.
For I know
That I will sin.
How can a season cycle in such juxtaposition? The feelings of grandeur sputter to an end, summer closes. The promise of beloved holidays sparks the last bit of life to flame. Huddling into coat collars and gloved pockets we challenge the winds to bite back. Orchards, hay bales, ghosts and goblins. I see my benevolent grandfather raking and re-raking mountains of dry leaves as my brother and I delight in the destruction -I miss him. The days become shorter, we draw closer, closer to someone. I recall so strongly a song by the Get Up Kids that takes me back to the days of trick or treat and homecoming queens. That was lifetimes ago. I’ve broken and healed so many times my heart must look like scar tissue. Jaded.  We use to say, “as long as there’s Christmas”. I think this year I’ll ask St. Nick to skip my house. This fireplace has been sealed with hard red brick and wet mortar. None of that matters, really. She needs me, needs me to be strong, to catch her, as if I am the one to fix it. I don’t know how-I never have. I’ve done this all before. This time, I  wish you’d catch me.
Michael Luciano Nov 2020
The dark clouds moved menacingly in from the horizon.
She could feel her eagerness building strength.
That's when the Thunder clapped and the rain began to fall.
Her body slowly started swaying with the rumbling call.
A smile formed upon her lips, energy built with every drip.
She gains her power from the storm, the blowing tempest makes her golden warm.
The flooding destruction moves her hips, she dances now in the howling winds.
She only smiles when it pours, she feels her strength in the burning storm.
Her body dancing in the rain, the way she moves is so wicked and strange. Lightning crashing through her weathered veins, It fills her body full of love.
Feel the destruction from above, the howling Tempest is her only friend. Dawn is breaking now bringing in the end, her body Withers with the calm.
The life she lives within the storm has now receded into the mud.
Where she will wait again for the floods
midnight prague Nov 2010
we can feed off of each others
destruction
life has shown us both
enivitability is always knocking at the door
it creeps behind the bar
holding death in a precious little box
or maybe a few tears in clear jar

I walked down into this forest
than this forest
and and this one
but no
no
the hands I see are not tinted enough
not invisably black enough
not tortured enough

the fire I see has never been extinguished
left with no nourishment
never knowing a word of despair

white breathing so many different colors
you illumanate in front of me
like earths beauty in the deepest core
under the most magnifecent things
you are perfect
and satan himself would agree

but no
no
you are not empty enough for me

— The End —