"deviances" poems
Zero One and modern blight
Travel at the speed of light.
We wondered on the Wandering Jew,
Or, in lieu,
Orthon, Urian or Lilitu.
We trepanned our empty skulls,
Searched our humours,
Were touched by Rulers!
Now troubling symptoms of want and need,
Have blighted growth of yesterseed.
Patient Zero left no lead.
East fingered West
(and vice versa)
Was Ireland really the cause of cholera?
Did Blacks languish in Tuskegee squalor?
We christened Mary, but drank the water.
Fracked Incubus and Succubus
From son and daughter.
Patient Zero left the slaughter.
We deprived women of their tea
To cure wandering womb hysteriae.
Deviances and leaking lesions
Were headwaters of women's *****
Patient Zero has no season.
The barber sensed it might be smell,
So our widened streets became a sulfurous hell.
And wastelands swelled
Where curled cats dwelled.
(no talk of Michelangelo)
II
Our children's blight has a techno name,
Like the rose, IT smells the same.
With zero tolerance I lay blame
On screens and phones and video games.
The world wide box stores flipped their lids,
Touching all who crawl the social grids;
From the base of Mammon's pyramid.
Now Jake believes he's a gangsta dude
Since posting whatever on You Tube.
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose:
No services rendered but expects what's due.
Inflated egos are a system symptom,
Clearing firewalls, reaching children.
Patient Zero is no phantom.
There is no tale of rat or flea
As cause of lost immunity.
There is no open sore to fester,
The Selfie is the X-ray picture.
Patient Zero is so much quicker.
In our gel of techno bliss,
On our elliptic petrie dish,
Bathed in more than we could wish,
Patient Zero will finish,
And with that whimper
All vanish.
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
The seasons are not dissimilar to laryngeal ******* where dark reptiles slink into the undergrowth of humanity, beside our deep intercostal deviances.
Are you registered? If so, then what is your range?
Perhaps a shotgun is incapable of reaching those harmonic octaves which rise above the shores of Neptune.
I beseech you, my lonely patron of inertia: let us meet in the middle of the Fertile Crescent where our ideas can blend into a kaleidoscopic vulnerability within the tents of promiscuity.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 12:15 AM UTC
We played blackjack taco until the early mourning sun singed the obsidian sky into submission
singling the onslaught of dawn rising like ravishing wildfire over a horizon of jagged glacier crafted mountains peaked with diamonds coal and gold
We flipped stacks and stacked flips
Pushed coins and collected IOUs
Spilled ink and broke pens
Too many hours in the Night Jazzing about youth and the repercussions of aging in a time when aging was an agonizing sin we cured with creams and needles
The table was deliberately a mess with scattered tea leaves half smoked sticky icky sticks full of inspired inspirations, drained drank empty wine bottles and other alcoholic deviances, and incoherent ramblings cauterizing the senses
uncompleted poems full of scribbled and scratched out words poke out from anyplace not covered by crumpled origami cash resting like a weird paper green zoo of swans frogs and paper airplanes.
The suns rays manage to find that one area in between the window shades and curtains to shine brilliantly into our darkly kept stygian tomb
Illuminating a night of lexicon ****** broken handed betting, and passion only poets and writers aspire to conquer
We rubbed out our sleepless crusted eyes and gathered our ink stains and haunted dreams and left into the morning that we found in some skeletol low rent motel room on the side of this deserted desert highway...
Jul 11, 2012
Jul 11, 2012 at 7:54 AM UTC
I have secrets and lies I tell even myself
I strive to appear normal
For I am ashamed of my deviances
I resent that what I like could get me labeled a freak
Our limbs entwined as we cuddle and kiss
The clothes we wore strewn across several rooms
The heat radiating between us
My secrets burning a hole in my heart
But how can you know that I want more and I'm ashamed of those cravings
I haven't told you, I am afraid of being judged, abandoned, and mocked
How can I trust with how many times I've been burned before, I'm paranoid
Would you step out of your comfort zone for me
Would you stick by me, or would you be angry or disgusted or unsympathetic to my desires
Jan 2, 2018
Jan 2, 2018 at 4:39 AM UTC
Just as
God has
The Father
The Son, and
The Holy Spirit
The man of prediction
Will have the dark Trinity;
Baal. Ishtar, Moleck
The god of
Baal
The deceiver
Removing God
from the church
the government.
Removing prayer
from the schools.
Removing Jesus
from the
market place.
God does. not stay
where he is not wanted!
Absence of God, chaos begins
Indoctrinating the children of sin
A pagan world begins to rule the Earth
Ideology wars changes
the nature of education
****** indoctrination
no age is too young
Woke America is born
Children bought, sold
Aphrodites are born
Ritual killings. pleasing gods
The
goddess
Ishtar
Wife of
Baal
cultures
through centuries
Known by many names
Enchantress, Aphrodite,
Venus. Diana
characteristics; wild
fanatic ******
deviances
Her perversions
have no bounds.
****** appetite Devours
Her imagination runs wild
In a dystopian society
Aphrodite is a goddess
that can change from
man to a woman
And from a
woman to man
*** is fluid
Death of the
Traditional family
Beta blockers
given to children
As young as seven
Society can
No longer determine
what is a woman.
Reduced to a
baby receptacle
by definition.
Men now can
give birth.
****** perversions
openly. show
the agenda,
a man in a dress
with a wig and a
beard and a mustache.
with male genital
can shower
and dress in
the locker room
with young girls
Appropriate Pronouns, please
when feelings
instead. of Facts
rule the day.
Moleck
The destroyer
Killer of babies and
humans for sacrifice
New York, California
created a bill of
infanticide.
A baby can be
killed up to
28 days
after birth.
Corners
are not. allowed
to question
the death of a baby
63 million abortions
were sacrifice
given to
the god. of Moleck
May 2, 2023
May 2, 2023 at 12:49 AM UTC
Sweet lips trick tips of tongues to slip and
before you can quit, she ***** your mind and
leaves you blind with love and
your little Dove with discover your deviances and you'll deal with the discord of a ****** mind.
Why?
Because it was your kind of doing deeds that doomed the dainty Dove to become a dainty ***** a siren of love.
It will be your duty to fix your fair Fox when the Angel's disease spreads like chicken pox and sickens her mind.
You don't wish to lose both lights or your life, right?
So, fickle Lover, be fair when you form a facade against your faithful Fox,
For she just wishes for safety, and shelter, and warmth.
Yet you whisk that from her in the form of a trap, lure her in and then with a CLACK!
You seize her within rib cages, right next to your beating heart.
Then, when she starts to beg for Heaven you just show her the Angel.
The Angel, who is the one with the weapon who releases it to you and you wield it high above your head and warn,
"You have a chance, run free!"
But this Fox knows naught but captivity and stays rooted in the place where the rudeness and bad comes crawling back like sick vermin with rabies and
lets him take the swing.
Swish! The sound of steel slices the air and cuts skin beneath the soft fur of the sensitive Fox. The Fox who felt such security in knowing thee would provide the type of sensual secrets to preserve her sentiments for centuries to ***
Alas, all great romances come to pass, and the Fox too passes, and the Angel clasps her new Lover and they forever wear the skin of the Fox as lingerie when they ****
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 1:13 AM UTC
It is a horrible shade
something I thought
that I would never be,
but for you
I see jealousy.
I am jealous of the air
that fills your lungs,
that hears you breath,
and carries the sound
of your heart beats.
I am jealous of the rain
that makes you smile
while you run a mile,
touching your skin,
sweet intermingling
sweat moistening.
I am jealous of the night sky
that sees you come alive,
knows where you lie,
so that it can visit you at night.
I am jealous of time
spent to see you grow,
got to get to know
your heart, and experiences,
your art, and deviances,
your dreams,
from the cradle to now.
I am jealous of the heart
that held you first,
that hurt you worse,
knowing that I could never
commit such a crime,
could never waste such a fine mind,
I find time to despise
that male shaped guise
who swindled your younger heart
before I ever got to be a part
of your life.
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 5:18 PM UTC
raised walls painted so that distanced towers stand
recognisably, cast desires public displaced
with prevented wills, spinning crosses effaced
with artificial elements exchanged, artisans' land
ideally used for first reaping, agreements planned
for disagreements, disdain and new deviances, embraced
parrots' ardent admiration is endurable, disgraced
so that facts of recognition are eternally evident, grand
appearances and objects, disinterested
vigilance and changes ever introduced to affairs
honourable, things abstracted neutrally exploring
unreal occasions of opulence, listed
and inherited, favoured for ritual houses and wares
priced, a result of lost words pouring
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 6:34 AM UTC