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Emerald Proctor Feb 2013
Leave me to be young,
to shrivel.
A white gardenia always must wither,
and shrivel;
Die.
Leave me to marry,
to love.
A heart can pump alone I assure you,
leave me to revoke my own sins.
A lost cause you take me,
and your silence will break me.
Your pesticides will **** off anything natural I possess!
A White Gardenia must shrivel and,
die.
Success is what disillusions me,
in pretense I fight.
A war on egos, envy and such!
It is all I know in my mechanical set-up,
is to follow the world in it's redundant tide.
A White Gardenia can bloom,
it can shrivel,
wither.
A White Gardenia always must die.
This is all I know being an adolescent in a modern society, materialism.
SP Blackwell Mar 2013
I am sitting on a broken branch

under the drug addled canopy of insecurities and lies.

I am feeling the steady sway of an oxycontin daze.

Walking slowly through a ketamine daydream that pulls at my core

like a phantom puppet master controlling my limbs.

It crashes into my brain like the breaking waves on the shore.

Breathing in nicotine filtered filth as I wait to catch a breath of fresh air.

Lungs filled with recycled tar that prevents me from gasping.

In darkened corners where lies sleep and rumors are hidden,

I wait.

I dance on a tightrope between conscious and subconscious

that is held by reality and dreams.

Dark sunglasses on to avoid

the blinding stinging light of what is real.

Mirrored glasses are reflecting the reflections back at intruders.

Deflecting glances, shifty eyes, and dilated pupils

searching for a focus point of truth  

in a neon technicoloured blur of hypocrisy.

The background blaring horns blended with a steady bass line

mimics my heartbeat.

Thump thump. Thump thump.

The fading noises pass quickly,

highlighted with insults and curses of hate and gossip

that are forgotten before you can make them out.

Spun truths turned into lies

intermixed with resin

left from yesterday.

The litter paved streets break under my heels.

Click clack. Click clack.

Broken and cracked

like the false promises

And hopes

And dreams

of those who have walked here before.

The monotonous pace is repeated

only pausing to notice the gum under the stiletto

that fails to hold her in place

as she runs towards the wet cement that has replaced

another sheet of cracked concrete.

The wet cement that has covered another lie

in order to show the simplicity of fake appearances.

A reminder of how easy it is to replace and mask

the hate filled holes that get trampled on.

The flicker of hope is suddenly unseen

like the street light lined alley that is now dark.

The stench of garbage, decay, and rotting flesh

is mixed with expensive perfume, sweat, make-up, and spilled *****.

Garbage cans are filled with the leftovers of last night.

A *** stained dress with no owner draws no attention

as the sound of snapping latex is muffled

by the screams of ecstasy that rapidly fade

like the fleeting feeling of MDMA.

Thick white ****** fluid oozes out like human glue

in an attempt to mend the lack of connection.

Strangers intertwined in hasty conversations

waiting for human contact to forget

that they are in dark alleys.

To forget

that they live in dark places

where no one lays down wet cement.

The distorted reality of alleys deceive passer bys

into thinking that they are not menacing

has been weaved like a web by street sweepers and garbage men.

The pressing sense of the need to avoid the sweepers

is unsaid but felt.

They falsely clean what will always be *****.

The *** filled backstreets yearn for love

like the treacherous woman guarding its corner.

Daddy issue lined dresses are asking to be undone

just like her lost innocence that can never be mended.

The issues and clothing that can never be fixed

abandoned on top of garbage cans for someone else to pick up.

Patches of dead grass are left

untended, unwatered, and unwanted

waiting to be replaced by wet cement.

Wet cement that soon enough will crack and break

under the heavy heated pressure of the stomping heels

of lost Girls in a desolate city.

Blood trickled trails are left behind

that have dried into the cigarette lined streets that lead nowhere.

The injured egos of men are left to linger at back doors

that will never be opened.

******* induced insanity whirls around a flurry

of whispers and paranoia wanting to here the Truth

between the spewed anger and rage of the low toned hushed voices

that wish not to be heard.

Whiskey hinted murmurs pressing on the sidewalk cracks

knowing that they will never be heard.

Looking into the dark where

Truth will never be seen.

The constant beat of narcotic users searching

for salvation in pre-packed bags of white powder,

digging for redemption in empty bottles of multi-colored pills.

Screaming through the silence,

They are not heard.

The desperation can be heard through the whining moans

of the junkies that are tethered to addiction.

The over whelming sound of

Want and Need and Lust

move through the streets like the overflowing gutter water.

Heartbeats are replaced with the impatient pacing of

her stilettos waiting for her pain to cease.

Stilettos stomping on broken dreams

waiting to cross broken streets.

She gazes at the other side as if it is different.

Stilettos tapping on the street

waiting for the firm grasp of a sweaty hand to distract her from reality.

Waiting to be touched

And grabbed

And ******

                                              In hopes that love will arise from ****** ****** encounter with

strange men in uncomfortable places.

Clothes are feverishly removed with the promise of

flesh on flesh enveloped in a hazy cloud of body heat

that warns off the internal coldness.

Heavy breath and touch and kiss release chemicals

to replace the drug depleted emptiness.

The rhythmic sound of rubbing flesh mingles with

the moaning of the streets.

It fuses with the short lived pleasure laden moans of

lonely people and un-climatic *******.

Awkward silences are brief as the sound of her heels owns the street.

Click clack. Click clack.

The sound of stilettos on cement hurriedly walking away when there is

no longer a need for his body heat.

That unmistakable click clack click clack

on uneven, *****, dangerous streets.

Red lipstick smeared stains are the only trace of her that is.

That is the only trace of me that is left.

Click clack steady on the street.

Steady like mimicking bass line

Click clack heartbeat.

The crunch of broken glass under the stiletto

echoes her broken dreams.

Click clack.

Head held high never looking at the ground as she walks forward.

Click clack. Click clack.

Click clack.

The urban mud of

Wet cement goes

Squish!

under her stiletto.



V.Mata
i've been washing myself
in John Baptiste's fury
more precipitation
of our seasons
saturated by the come'n'go
wait and see
the white swans before we die
crashing naked bodies
in a ***** L.A.
swimming pool
we succumbed
to their glamorous scartissues
carving our egoic existence
that time when you
soaked your hate in
the summer sun
died over and over
like a fish jelly scattered
on the hot sand
we still remembered
our mother's womb
the development of
the caterpillar
butterflies only lived
in our stomach
reproduced on rusted
trains towards
divergent universes
towards
the infinite self.
egos as round as the vanity mirror's bulbs.
the negative correlation between personality,
and the amount of time spent putting on a face.
now, i don't throw this term around, as it is perhaps
one of the ugliest things you can be, but you are a
Seán Mac Falls May 2015
Massive egos shine
Mostly drivel on HP
Just Poetastery
Lamest so called writers NOT poets, egos unbridled
Big Virge Aug 2021
Now It's Clear That Some Heads...  
Need To See That I GET IT... !!!  

That...
ARROGANCE And EGO...  
..... Can DISCREDIT.....  
  
Your Claims To Be IMPRESSIVE...  
In Art That You're... Representing...  
  
Now It Could Just Be...  
JEALOUSY Or ENVY... ?!?  
  
of The... Level of BELIEF... !!!  
That Might APPEAR To EXCEED...  
..... HUMILITY In Me.....  
  
But It’s Simply THAT...  
And That’s... A FACT... !!!  
  
Or Maybe It’s THIS...  
The Current SOFTENING...  
of How People Live...  
Well In FACT EXIST... !!!  
  
Due To VIRUSES...  
And... Contrivances...  
  
That Have Now...  
QUELLED REBELS...  
On... Various Levels... !!!  
  
People Are DISHEVELLED...  
And Just Like Killah Priest...  
Have HEAVY MENTALS... !!!  
  
But NOT LIKE Him...  
Or Guys Like... ME... !!!  
  
Who Is An... ARTIST...  
Who Has MORE Lyrics...  
Than MOST Lyricists...  
Who Are In The Business...  
of Making... HITS... !!!  
  
So TRUST When I Say...  
That... I DO GET IT... !!!  
  
BUT My Wordplays’ NOT GENERIC...  
Or Written For... COMPETITIONS... !!!  
  
What I Write Is SERIOUS STUFF... !!!  
I Know That Some Are Just Poking FUN... !!!  
  
But Some Clearly BELIEVE...  
That BIG VIRGE Doesn’t See...  
That He Needs HUMILITY... ?!?  
  
And Yes I’m Now Talking...  
In The... THIRD PERSON...  
Because... BIG VIRGE...  
Is Just Another Version... !!!  
  
of Who The Man VIRGIL...  
REALLY Is... TRULY... !!!  
  
A Man Who Deals...  
In... DEEP ARTISTRY... !!!  
  
So My... EXPRESSION  ...  
Is Just What STRENGTHENS...  
  
INSECURITIES...  
That Sometimes Reach...  
BIG PARTS of... My Psyche... !!!  
  
But As A Good Buddy...  
Said To Me... Recently...  
  
“Don’t listen to the haters Virge,  
because your use of verse,  
when it’s well observed,  
does show superiority,  
that’s above the artistry,  
that nowadays comes cheap,  
with egos that exceed,  
the place where they should be !”  
  
So You See...  
It’s A DIFFICULT Thing... !!!  
To BALANCE EGOS That Live...  
Inside... SERIOUS Artists... !!!  
  
So BEFORE You Think It’s COOL... !!!  
To Start Making CLAIMS...  
And To Hurl Abusive Views...  
  
About An EGO...  
That You ASSUME...  
Is A... MASSIVE Part...  
of The Big Virge DUDE... !!!  
  
DON’T Get It CONFUSED... !?!  
  
I’ve Said It BEFORE...  
And I’ll... Say It AGAIN... !!!  
  
My Style Is RAW...  
And DOESN’T Play...  
  
… I STAND ALONE... !!!  
  
And DON’T Write For The Folks...  
Who Take Life For A JOKE... !!!  
  
I’m A SERIOUS Bloke... !!!  
Whose Poetic Quotes...  
Are Those That Go...  
With The Type of Egos...  
  
Whose Art Is DOPE... !!!  
  
And This Has Been Expressed...  
By A NUMBER of Heads...  
On The WORLD WIDE WEB... !!!  
  
From DIFFERENT Continents... !!!  
  
And From Those Who Were There...  
And Were In MY PRESENCE...  
When I’ve Performed Poems...  
LIVE And... DIRECT... !!!  
  
So That’s Right I’ll DERIDE...  
Artistry That I Find...  
DOESN’T Exercise...  
My Body Or Mind... !!!  
In Ways That ELEVATE... !!!  
Or Make My Hips GYRATE... !!!  
  
And BELIEVE Me When I Say...  
That I KNOW My Art Holds WEIGHT... !!!  
  
And Is Just NOT Seen As... GREAT...  
Because My Ego DOESN'T DEFLATE... !!!  
  
Around Those Who BELIEVE...  
In The HYPE That They Receive...  
From The Media And TV... !!!  
  
And Because...
UNLIKE These Heads Who EXUDE...  
… The Type of EGOS...
That Could COVER Up THE MOON...  
  
I DO TRY To Keep Mine COOLED...  
  
But To Write In The Way...  
That... I NOW DO... !!!  
  
“ Of Course I’ve Got One Too ! “
It's a fine line that you have to keep a close eye on, however, critics and those who are quick to accuse people of being certain things, should maybe take some to THINK, before doing it ... !!!
Jme Love Nov 2022
Our egos were bigger than our hearts. Our pride bigger than our minds. We couldnt take a loss yet neither of us won. Trust became an issue but only after i was honest with you. Fighting caused so many problems only because we couldnt solve them. At a loss not knowing what else to do. I ran away hoping to get through to you. I never wanted to be away this long. I just wanted you to say you need me and to come back home. But like i said once before, our egos are to big and we let our pride take all control. Afraid to lose we couldnt give in. But you tell me is this realy a win?
Sometimes winning means taking a loss
And sometimes we can mever win at all
Charles Berlin Mar 2010
A showdown on Sunset
At sundown the two met
A breakdown of Corvettes
Cellphones drawn by execs
From holsters, my wild west
On speed dial is the best
Lawyers to slow down, lay to rest
This showdown of suits neatly pressed
Elaenor Aisling Sep 2021
My sisters and I jest
That men never get over us.
We have been named
Muses, angels, succubi, leanan sidhe
But we are les belles dames avec merci
And that is their undoing.
Our breath has left them gasping
With unfilled lungs
We never meant to be their oxygen
But they drink us in like drowning men.

We didn’t ask for this,
But disarming, we are soft enough
For them to float in
Belly up, eyes to distant stars
Singing the sirens song that stirs in our veins.

Behind our teeth rests the love
The world has failed to give them till now
There are holds in the knowledge
that our fingertips find the hollowed spaces,
mother wounds, clefts where trust was carved out,
And they clutch our palms to staunch the bleeding.

We never asked for this,
They cherish the brittle changelings of us
until they are crushed in the coals of our eyes
Eggshell ideals, fragile as egos.
Blown by the sea wind in the strands of our hair
they are scattered, undone.

The distance drifts between, inevitable
And full they turn away to starve
We cut the mooring line
After one too many storms,
And search
For safer
Harbor.
PrttyBrd Dec 2018
kept to myself on silent hill
where grasshoppers used to frolic

eyes that spy don't realize
like-minds in wooden boxes
read their own would be actions

can't rationalize honesty
different strokes in choices projected
pandering in placating platitudes

never did learn how to turn polite
into untruths earning respect
through coddling flattery

backscratchers are unnecessary
when you don't count numbers
to feel worth a ****

broken beautiful even in cracked truth
taken as is wholeheartedly
but wholeheartedly never fit
into wooden boxes

where people polish egos
and truth reads like what you want to hear
unspoken expectations cultivate disappointment

caring is never pretty when it's real
honesty, with no lies, is hard to look at
in reflections of things one tries to bury

it's the beginning of trust that scrounges
for reasons to doubt
running into cradling arms

far from the unknown feeling of acceptance
where bones are broken beautiful
and scars are proof you won the battle
121118
158w
Aaron LaLux Mar 2019
What’s up,
what’s going on with you these days,
how have you been where have you been
just wanted to let you know that I still love you,
because I know it’s been awhile,
some would even say forever or at least that's what it feels like,
but forever feels like only a moment when you're immortal,
as an Endless Infinite Being living in Infinity,

tell me,
what’s your truth,
why do you rise in the morning what're the motives for your motions,
do you pray & if you do how do you pray & to whom do you pray to,
& how do you handle the hate & do you always make room for the love,
& why do you struggle at all I mean seriously what’s the use,
stress isn't worth the stress so why subject yourself to what feels incorrect,
instead of this try to relax find some perspective & learn to listen to you,

we've been misled by the stimulants that we're fed,
to believe that material things are more important than human beings,
we worship inanimate objects like they have a life of their own,
which is why instead of making eye contact we just look down at a screen,

checking Facebook Messenger & our Twitter feeds,
preferring to live life vicariously through tweets than to live the real thing,

living life & doing things not for the experience but for the likes it gets,
our only vice is being guided by the eye of the Public's biases,
victims of our own timelines we traded away our sovereignty for notoriety,
what is this society what happened to the days of Prince Ra & Princess Isis,

or more correctly The Days of The God Ra & The Goddess Isis.

Where have the Gods gone?
Are all the Gods gone?

Are we living in a Post-Religion-Apocalyptic Epoch of Existence?

Everything’s possible I guess,

I guess,
either way it isn't worth the stress,
I guess just be blessed & let everything click & fall into place,
because one must confess we are the honest embodiment of much success.

& success comes,
after lots of yes,
so say yes,
just say yes.

& hey Bless what’s up,
what’s going on with you these days,
how have you been where have you been
just wanted to let you know that I still love you,
because I know it’s been awhile,
some would even say forever or at least that's what it feels like,,
but forever feels like only a moment when you're immortal,
as an Endless Infinite Being living in Infinity,

& all these words offer us up everything except apologies,

actually,
fck it,
apologies as well,

there,
I said it,
might as well say I'm sorry because it seems I've said everything else,

so I apologize.

“I apologize on behalf of all men we messed up & I accept that,
but honestly we didn't know what else we were supposed to do,
& please don't misconstrue this apology as an excuse,
because there is no excuse for the way we gave away all this abuse,
it's just we were fatherless all our were leaders lacked commonsense,
& this miscreants mislead us into thinking that is was cool to mistreat you,
so we lost our morals & all common decency as we lost our commonsense,
& you didn't bother to tell us either because you're as lost as us too,
so on behalf of all men I apologize in all my honestness,
but honestly we didn't know what to do see we were as lost as you.”,

in this microcosm somewhat awesome mini-universe called Los Angeles,

in this mini-universe called Los Angeles,
we lost our angel wings,
in a place where everything seems easy,
but then again nothing is what it seems,
navigating through the soulless glows of low neon egos,
plastic smiles & absent minded sidetracks with high self esteem,
where good ideas meet bad company & they make a movie out of it,
& you can sign a contract for millions but can't buy backs your dreams,

see its seems,
we are all sleepwalking in this day dream,
& truth be told sometimes all I want to do,
is walk down the hill I'm on from Mulholland to Hollywood Blvd. & scream,

“AAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH HAHAHAHAHAH!”,

it must be so liberating to be a mad man,

but these days,
in most cases crazy is dismissed as lost,
meanwhile Madmen on Television make bad decisions,
while still portraying the American Dream slogan that “Money is Boss.”,
& therefore you should make more at all costs,
but what good is made if while your getting paid but your soul is getting lost?

What good is money,
without peace of mind,
because you can’t escape yourself no matter how much money you make,
or how many drugs you take because you can't get away no matter how high,

so even if you forget all of this because of short term memory loss,
remember that fact even if you don't remember why,

see before I had money,
& I’d complain about inequality & they'd  call me bitter,
& after I got money,
& complained about inequality they called me hypocritical,

well,
you can make some of the people happy all the time,
& all of the people happy some of the time,
but you can’t make all the people happy all the time,

ah well,
I never asked to be their abused Muse anyways,
nevertheless I became a slave to my art was consumed too soon,
& the same thing that had freed me made me enslaved,

& I've got so much more to say,
but I'm simply exhausted right now & can't continue to elaborate,
because it's been a long night I'm tired,
& I just want to find a place to lay my God what a day,

what a day,
what a day it’s been,
feels like it’s been days since I’ve seen you,
lifetimes even,

please come see me,
I've got so many reasons for you to visit,
& you've got not one reason not to,
so please come at once I insist that you come this instant,

come check in before we both check out,
& when you arrive I will only have one question & it's this,

“What's up?”,

what’s up,
what’s going on with you these days,
how have you been where have you been
just wanted to let you know that I still love you,
because I know it’s been awhile,
some would even say forever or at least that's what it feels like,
but forever feels like only a moment when you're immortal,
as an Endless Infinite Being living in Infinity...
∆ Aaron LaLux ∆
Ankit J Chheda Nov 2012
I can’t seem to shut the noises in my head,
Replaying all the words said,
I’ve been trying hard to avoid it all
From the moment the fight began to the end,
But this friction is wearing me out,
It’s making me sad and crippled,
I feel like I am dying inside,
There is no safe place to be,
All these egos clashing,
All these talks of unfulfilled expectations,
Everyone wanting the other to be as per their definition,
The putting on of fake mask in front of you,
To hide what I want to say in fear of another riot,
Inside I fight myself to be what you expect,
Outside I act like what of me I feel other’s expect,
I’m a loser in the race of what people decide is best,
Of what people think is fun and what they think everyone should have.
I fear I’m not like metal, which bends to the smith’s will,
But I’m like glass, hard enough to sustain the weather,
But ready to break when the blow strikes.
PJ Poesy May 2016
}I{
“Sinuhe”

King Khety is blinking madly
Haruspex has left him ominous oracle
Sinuhe is on his return, fugitive no more
Sinuhe brings with him enemy’s daughter
Not prize, Nefru his wife and Libyan lore
Sinuhe from slavery came, poet she did adore

Egyptian tombs do tell in detail
Hieroglyphic tales, this juncture of peril
Khety not King, but Sinuhe’s noble brother
Knows true King come to claim throne
Sinuhe the nobler, knows a life of none other
Than slave sold by Odious, the step-mother

Yes Queen Odious, deep in den of asps
Collected poison venom to undue her marriage
To Sinuhe’s father Merikare, Pharaoh of Moon
Odious’ ghastly act nearly tore Egypt in two
Her derangement sent Sinuhe far across sand dune
Odious took crown, added gilded teeth of baboon

Made her son King, though he did implore
Khety saw insanity and for what, he was in store
Khety remembers his Great Father’s words
“The heart of someone who listens to his temper
Is doomed to follow the stink of camel herds
Better to let heart fly upon sky, as do birds”

Yet by years tormented, Khety became undone
More like his mother and even more sniveling
Than the Odious one, so he did as he was told
Incessant dribbling marked a life for him
He minded his words lest he knew he’d be sold
Mother’s high priest Abhorus was bitter and cold

Sinuhe’s struggles were unknown to King Khety
Years of near starvation and wearisome labor
Made Sinuhe the better man, as he did never forget
Assurances of his noblest Father, Pharaoh Merikare
Virtue ascribed, Sinuhe kept valor in each trial met
Furthermore, his noblest task still to come as of yet



}II{
“Numidian Queen”

Nefru, Numidian Queen to Land of Libya
Recalls young slave Sinuhe’s hostility to captivity
His intelligence overcoming, who once would be King
Of Egypt had not violent arm but ferocious mind
Using wit to overcome adversity and words he did sing
To free his self of internment and all oddity it did bring

Nefru looks upon loyal husband Sinuhe
It is an arduous journey this man has taken
Her commitment be bound now by ivory ring
Loyalty to this man before all forsaken
It is spring, and amongst abundant life come dead things
Fledgling birds first flight failed or so siblings did fling

Now swept into his pilgrimage, Nefru perceives
All adversity Sinuhe did overcome so nobly
To her, he is chukar, partridge of rare plumage
It is to the ground, which this bird be bound
Never reaching sky, low brush be its’ *******
Though its’ song give to her heart an anlage

Freedom from slavery, is Sinuhe’s triumph
Vindication of crown be the mark of new flight
He prays to Horus Behudety, Winged Sun God
Nefru knows of her husband’s will and might
She gifts to him her father’s pinioned golden rod
Scepter of enslaver Mehru, and his feathered shod

It was not of great agreement by Mehru
Should his daughter Nefru marry a slave?
Much less to son of Merikare, an arch enemy
Yet he be so brave, impressions of Sinuhe’s strength
Be made so to change, very nature Sinuhe’s destiny
So much so, Mehru did lament in Merikare’s elegy

So it came to be, a slave marries Queen
Sinuhe and Nefru’s love broke all patterns
Such a love to win hearts of, Gods and Goddess’ unseen
Who rule other worlds and all rings of Saturn
History had never known affection so purely clean
Gatherings from far off fields came to witness such glean



}III{
“Haruspex And Detritus”

Haruspex, soothsayer speaks in half-truths
King Khety believes only small contingent
Be on way to Byblos, presently approaching Qedem
Little does he know, armies of Elephant in tow
Masses of feathered and golden archer’s stem
Blessed by breath of Bat, Goddess and her phlegm

Detritus, Animal Man, hired scout to King Khety
Possesses claws and hair of lion, his home Serengeti
Animal Man’s mane is thrashed in thorns and rubble
Smells of cat ***** but has nose that knows much
Such why Detritus be tolerated, though be much trouble
Haruspex twists tale of tailed man, speaks of him double

Calls him lazy, shiftless, yet Haruspex be cryptic mess
Detritus be banal yes, but true to Khety none the less
Knew his father well, Merikare be his master
It was always Queen Odious, Detritus distrusted
Knowing her demonic betrayal and Egypt’s disaster
She kept him in gypsum cave, scratching alabaster

Kindness had left this Kingdom sometime ago
When Odious and Abhorus overthrew rule
Merikare Moon Pharaoh mummy cry from tomb
Sinuhe ripped from his side by Abhorus
His funeral a very mockery and Detritus’ doom
Haruspex made way from Libya, eyes mucous rheum

Planted by Mehru, Haruspex be sent through desert
King of Libya be wise, sent this oracle as disguise
Not soothsayer at all but spy of opposition
King Mehru knew upon Moon Pharaoh’s death
Peace upon land would not soon come to position
Quickly he sent Haruspex, strangest magician

Detritus knew by the first smell of him
Haruspex came from earth west, not with best
Intentions to natural order of land and sky
And this test of two egos be quite perplexed
With each other and another reason why
This brawny epic riled through years gone by



}IV{
“Ode ‘O’ Odious”

Motioning her battalions, priests and beasts
Evil Queen who overthrow, joins Abhorus’ feast
Beldams be this clergy, **** all about Odious
Snapping of rabbits heads in cacophony of blood
Plunking chalices of malice’s, sacrifices melodious
All in dark chamber halls in depth’s commodious

Stretching of intestine to fine tune harp
Butchers waylay innards with daggers sharp
Mawkish music be Odious’ fame
Concavity’s entrance a perilous scarp
Passers-by enticed by bergamot oil’s flame
Fall to their death to be eaten by dame

Ode ‘O’ Odious, Ode ‘O’ Odious
Drunken mayhap through day and nightcap
She rumpus muck, she ruckus all luck
Ode ‘O’ Odious, Ode ‘O’ Odious
Chambers fill with all matter of bile guck
Bites cobra tails, hooded heads protrude to ****

Death be her power to innocence’s pain
Queen Odious oblivious to her own danger
Seems unstoppable to submissive subjugates
Spinning her terror, cackle calls to maidens
Fem ferocious, how ‘O’ Odious undulates
Casualties collected in long hundredweights

Probity of her high priest be none
Abhorus puppets Odious and will be done
With her second rare blue water lilies run out
The Nile produces this flower of intoxication
Extinction of it is of all certainty, no doubt
Named after her, O Odious flora beguiles lout

Ode ‘O’ Odious, Ode ‘O’ Odious
It is Evil Sorceress and midnight blue flower
Power of it be all in her high flighty head
She misuses its’ tincture to her own final hour
Harvesting it foolishly, nearly till it is dead
And when it is, it will be to all worlds’ dread



}V{
“Oasis In Iaa”

Sinuhe receives word elephants parched
Water need be found, arduous trek campaigned
Nefru never witness such worry, Sinuhe’s face
Ox tail be split to drain nourishment from beasts
No water for miles, no sea birds upon sky to trace
Sinuhe prays, “Montu, God of War find oasis to race!”

Sekhmet, Archer Goddess visits Nefru
Great Lady is besieged by dessert’s spell
Hallucinations bring mirage to Nefru’s sight
Transfixed on dessert’s horizon her eyes
Contingents warriors, bands of archer’s fright
Paths set forth, only to journey by starlit night

At dawn Sinuhe strands his band
Takes his most devoted men of arms
Bhaktu, Parsi, Rhaktu, follow their Lord
Each having faith in man and his wisdom
Eastward they find Syrian tribe in horde
They are welcomed, none need draw sword

Master of Syrian tribe Abu Sefa
Understands who Sinuhe is and was
Orders falconers to find Nefru and throng
Apprises Sinuhe of oasis beyond hummocks
All are soon joined together in wine and song
Oasis found, Iaa, fruited land and lagoon long

Khety is warned of revelry in Iaa
Sends legions Egyptian arms, by order Odious
Anubis, jackal head God given zebra sacrifice
Detritus employed for battle with spears
Copper shields, mediocrity will not suffice
All swords be sharpened by order thrice

Lifeblood battle of Egypt ensues
Sinuhe taken off guard in Iaa,
Elephant screams to be heard for miles
Bhaktu cut down, Rhaktu not found
Parsi’s archers never saw such trials
From lagoons come seething crocodiles



}VI{
Twist Of Fate

Rensi was chosen by Abhorus to speak for Khety
As High Priest, Abhorus did most doling of employs
This proxy Rensi though, be mockery of King
His speech more stammered than Khety’s noise
Grossly disfigured as well, soundings as mice sing
Rensi aware of this, musters all dignity he may bring

Perigee moon at present, o howling now
Hyena laughing at dissertation of Khety’s proxy
Ill ease overcomes this Rensi, an impediment
Speech undone on terrestrial stairs to Memphis
Escalades flora, fauna; monsoons washing sediment
Tefnut, great rain goddess turns world to excrement

This not so illustrious disquisition muted
By torrent winds and torrential liquid compounds
Tefnut’s tears plunk upon all, turning mud blood
Looking out from his great house Khety embroiled
Bares soul to Sobek-Re, Crocodile God; Sun and Crud
Sobek-Re answers prayer, suspending flash flood

In Iaa, as gore of battle ensues, fate lose
As twist of tale find new bemuse and worlds infuse
Detritus sees his lost master Sinuhe encroaching peril
This recognition swells an emotion deep and confuse
Detritus bent in memories flash reacts nobly not feral
With a roar to be heard over all, clamor become sterile

Sounds of battle cease and gaze of majesty
Sinuhe seeing Detritus is overcome by sensibility
Two old beloved friends stare upon each other
Dragging swords behind each move to indemnity
Embrace of each other; secures allegiance another
Sinuhe kisses feet of Detritus; calls him “brother”

As witness to such, all weary legions unite
Moon turn blue, assured sign of Pharaoh Merikare
Mehru’s star battalions federate Moon Pharaoh’s armies
Together as one to Memphis they shall siege Khety
Overthrow Queen Odious and her sinister parties
This mainly being High Priest Abhorus’ autocracies



}VII{
Epitaph Of Detritus

Odious in lair drinks tinctures blue water lilies
Abhorus her advisor suggests only more intoxicants
Khety is shrilling at sight of this deceptive lure
Haruspex makes prophesy of Detritus’ betrayal
Khety sends hunters to trace Animal Man’s spoor
Abhorus finds more legions of archers to procure

Leaving Iaa and moving toward Memphis
Detritus is fitted by Nefru’s maidens new armor
Embroidered with gold, a striped khat is made to adorn
Detritus is humbled by Sinuhe and Nefru’s gifts
His body is perfumed and oiled; his mane then shorn
Beholden to the true King of Egypt, Detritus is sworn

Two men of different lands, both once slaves
Overcome their adversities and rise upon sun
Sinuhe and Detritus’ bond is legitimately noble
Wearing of these worlds bare them new providence
Seemingly this union appears fortuitous global
Keeping steadfast of Abhorus’s archers now mobile

In Sakkara, south of Memphis come tempest
Raining arrows as if raindrops, Sinuhe’s challenge
Detritus’ valor finds reckoning to his last will
Defending Sinuhe, Detritus falls to cumulating
By strength this virtue witnessed, Sinuhe rise still
Throwing down legions of archers, making his ****

Abhorus, Odious, and Khety with no troops left
Surrender to Sinuhe upon his return to Memphis
Odious drinks last vials blue lily tincture, expires
Abhorus struck dead by hand of Khety in resolve
Khety bows to Sinuhe and his Queen as requires
King Sinuhe , Queen Nefru read parchments and fliers

In honor of great Detritus and his noble deeds
Commissioned is greatest sculpture Animal Man
During its’ long construction, most joyful jinks
Song and dance to honor a great warrior true
Each artisan so proud to have heritage to links
Of Animal Man, Detritus, now known as Sphinx
This is my adaptation of The Tale Of Sinuhe. It is the oldest known work of Egyptian literature. This epic poem was written by me with the intent of creating a puppet opera. I hope to collaborate with other poets, musicians, artists and puppeteers to see this come to life. Between each chorus should be arias which embellish the plot and theme. If you may be interested in working on this piece, please let me know via private message. I hope to make it a collaborative work.
sian Feb 2019
do you know how it feels?
to have to look a certain way?
to act a certain way?

do you know how it feels?
to fight against a backwards mentality?
to be sexually objectified?
to keep quiet to appease fragile egos?

do you know how it feels?
to be treated as though you are replaceable?
to be treated as though you are incapable of possessing your own entity?

do you know how it feels?
to be treated as though the best thing you have to offer is between your legs, rather than what circulates within your mind?

do you know how it feels... to be a woman?
Khushi Batra Sep 2019
The bloodied wound
Of patriarchy
Swings majestically
Round my neck,
Wavering my thoughts
Of what to be
And what not to be.

I look around
Viewing people fight
Misogyny and sexism.

For I try to do that too,
Until I fall once again into a muck,
Watching **** crimes
On a daily basis
Watching acid attack victims
On a daily basis.

For, some
Are too illiterate to know the meaning
Of the word, no.
For their egos are so small,
That they can’t handle rejection.

The bloodied wound
Of patriarchy
Hangs majestically
Round my whole body,
Begging me to tame it,
Oh dear lord,
There is ****** of womanhood
happening all around,
With people pointing to the length of our clothes,
To the pitch of our voices.
-
@enchantingnachokitten
Savy Sep 2018
I was mad.

I was mad about being second best.
I was mad about taking a second place in your heads.
I was mad about what you discussed behind my back.
I was mad about realising how mad it all made me become.

I was sad.

I was sad about how excluded you made me feel.
I was sad about how vulnerable I had let myself become.
I was sad about not feeling as important to you anymore.
I was sad because I felt so alone without you.
With you.

I was tired.

I was tired of seeing them push me aside.
I was tired of being interrupted for your gains.
I was tired of being used to broaden your shoulders
And widen your egos
I was tired of seeing her face and hearing you laugh at her words.

I was wounded.

Wounded because you left me all alone when I needed you.
Wounded because you chose them over me. And her.
Wounded because I had finally found my place and they took it from me.
Wounded because my mistakes were haunting me.
Wounded because you were hurting me, neglecting me, rejecting me.

Now you've come back to me.

Come back like I predicted.
Come back like none of this ever happened.
Come back like she was never here.
Like I never asked you that question.
Come back like we were never different.
Come back like my heart is still yours and yours is still mine.

And now you smile at me,
Talk to me,
Laugh at me like nothing ever happened, nothing ever changed.
Like we will still remain
The same
And I don't know what to think anymore
Other than what love is made of.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2016
the users of chinese require a respectable memory of logograms, but then the european languages users require a respectable memory of combinations of a limited number of "logograms", well, indeed limited, in comparison to the chinese range... and in so doing seem to have created a knack, a desire to create iconoclasm, a barrage of excess image crafting, whether in painting or photography, even logos are taken for equal representation among paintings and photographs in terms of being qualified as equals... if there's a quest at hand... it's to find the tetragrammaton in chinese: Y (convergence of three directions), H (the selfish twins of the ego), W (sine & cosine ripples, the ripples of a drop in a lake of a glass of water), and H (the selfless twins of the ego)... something like that - obviously upon interaction, used, the the two pairs of egos become the real dynamism interchanging their coupling... while the Y and W are seemingly constants.*

looking at the many maxims of la rochefoucauld,
so many seem true... but then again too
much truths and not using the Kantian
filter that the categorical imperative is...
and you stumble into custard of a maxim
kaleidoscope... obviously i'm not denying the truths,
but, as Kant pointed out... one truth will do,
the rest as there to be observed as if from-thin-air,
but it's still only one maxim, the ccategorical
imperative spurning you on, all the others do not
provide a vector consistency for you to repeat,
fall back on... i do appreciate the many observations
in la rochefoucauld, but too many maxims
and you do not which to grasp, wrestle with and
utilise to its maximum potential, not one becomes
a vantage point of safety, too many of them
and you're dancing naked under the tree of forbidden
knowledge... making it a bit of a foolery paying
homage to Bacchus... drunk on too much of it...
not really able to incorporate all of it, incorporating
too much of it is hardly strategic, one maxim will do,
a categorical imperative, a strategy of a measured
footpath, one will do...
but apart from that, considering each maxim with
a method i devised... dilution using synonyms...
that old chestnut, king solomon's
Ecclesiastes 1:2... meaningless! meaningless!
utterly meaningless! everything's meaningless!
in another citation the word vanity is used...
now vanity does not necessarily imply meaningless
as the closest synonym... in the latin tongue
vanity (vanus) implies empty... hence my revision
of the cartesian concept of res cogitans (thinking thing)
using res vanus (empty thing)...
if meaningless is given a disruption and a refrained
use, instead using the closer meaning to the latin (empty),
then i can see a better scenario...
everything is empty: emptiness! emptiness! utterly empty!
everything is empty! i find this to be a less pessimistic
conclusion on the matter... after all gravity was empty
prior to newton, who filled it; natural selection was empty
prior to darwin, who filled it; electromagnetic rotary
devices were "empty" / didn't exist until michael faraday
came along... the atmosphere was empty, until
leucippus and democritus came along, later proven
wrong by the supposed non-divisibility of the structures
by otto hahn and fritz strassmann and oppenheimer...
these evaluations suggest that people come across
these empty things, either by direct sensory perception
or through theoretical mingling, and fill them...
there's nothing meaningless as such as stressed by
Ecclesiastes 1:2... things are necessarily empty, in order
to be filled, and that gives meaning to man...
therefore... emptiness!! emptiness!
utterly empty! everything's empty! this, the dilution
using synonymousness as a divergence from
what strict interpretation would provide should
only a limited vocabulary be applied - rather than
an extended vocabulary of a juggling act.
Virtuous Aug 2018
Trying my best to do a job
And follow rules set in place
And peoples attitude
And entitled egos im supposed to just take
Because hey
“The Customer Is Always Right”

To give service with a smile
Even to the one screaming profanities
To reward bad behaviour
And give in to such insanity  
But hey
“The Customer Is Always Right”

To be nice to the creeps
That come in every week
I already told you
The answer is no!
So please leave me alone
But hey
“The Customer is Always Right”

What happened to honor?
Dignity and Respect?
I’m horrified at the lack there of
I know im not the only one
TS Ray Nov 2019
Flying without abandon,
spinning a spider web, or
saving the day by coming out at nights,
it”s not my powers to be.

I keep no magic secrets,
I drink no miracle potions,
I have no alter egos,
I own no extra fittings.
I just believe.
Just like you believe.

Being your own super hero,
telling your own heroic tales,
crafting your own wins from odds,
no trip to Gotham City is needed for that.

Knowing your intuition,
trusting your gut,
feeling a pinch,
holding to clinch,
the pearl of an oyster
from the deep blue life,
it’s what my force will be.

So, how deep is your oyster at? :)
RatQueen Jul 2018
I think we've found
an understanding
A common ground
Island in sea
I dont want you to feel shorted
So listen to me now
This is so important

When it comes to you and comes to me
I know there was uncertainty
But I also know how things are now
What we feel is more than what we usually allow
ourselves
And Its okay to let it come
And I could tell that you just wanted someone

So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man

I've never wanted
Something more
Don't hide the flaws
That I adore
No need to try
And fit a mold
These are more than just
Some words I've told

And I know that
You're very smart
But you embrace the brain
And hide from heart
I've hurt you, and you've hurt me back
For egos sake and what we lack

We can't take back all the mistakes
But Amy said
Its where you're at, not where you've been
And Its okay to let it come
And I could tell that you just wanted someone

So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man

I don't want to run your life
Or even be your wife
As much as I just want you to know
That I empathize
Its intimidating when something feels so good
Scared it isn't healthy or that you neglect the things you should
But you can't deny
And I would never lie

So let me in you're the only one who can
I may be the only one who understands
Its okay to not have a plan
Its enough to simply be a man

Its okay to let it come
I could tell that you just wanted someone
Its okay to let it come
I could tell that you just wanted someone
songwriting
jeffrey conyers Jan 2014
Not all men insecure because their spouse makes more money.
The man just happy to have a loving partner.
It's those males with sensitive egos.
Who complains about his lady bringing home more bread?

Who let the old role of a man dictates to them?
While many males isn't lumped together with them.

Take those ladies at the top.
They don't brag about it.
Because they earned the position to be there.

And don't need anything or anyone to  uplift them.
They solely believes action speaks louder than words.

Yes, many males comfortable with a working spouse.
That's just more percentage of money to assist in helping the finances of the house.

You might read an article of two.
Boasting of a woman in a man's field.
Or, what it use to be?

And look closely at the writer.
It's mostly written probably by a woman.
Who first brought up the subject of making more than most men.

Except , many aren't upset.
If they know she has the experience.
Shevek Appleyard Nov 2022
Starting up you're all I want to touch
just us, half naked
weekends wasted
stripping, sniffing, sipping
its star splitting

you stain my brain
and thoughts on my sheets
its been weeks and I'll always choose you over sleep

you're smug
cos you think I'm in love
but you know I'm caving
the hum of your presence I'm craving
the lull of my lust misbehaving
all senses wavering
I stare my issues in the face

spiteful inflictions influx your world
this happiness is on borrowed time
as a sun bleeds beauty
my heels ***** with demise
staged under skies of potent paradise
and I've lost all sense of myself
smothered by mental health

there's toxicity to our proximity
that renders all possibilities for me
I sigh to leave behind heavy lies
but at least I'm half free from anxiety
and I can smoke again

yet there's more bad decisions in the shape of you
and we know its not true
but I decanter out the decadence
so I wont feel possession
obsession can maintain you
don't use it to sustain you

the complications spring my elations
hallucinations that restores clarity
tiny triggered spores open doors to expose your vanity
egos obscured what our reality ignores
as we explore each other's minds and sanity
potions of emotions keep the notion
that were not too eager for unhealthy devotion
we climb on frantic antics and struggle with the semantics
of what we want to say...

if we enjoyed being bored
not living for drama
reserving our pain
and deserving our karma

my cat scraps the shadows as
my mind maps the gallows
feasting on conspiracies of negativity
but hardly mindful to see
they'll always be a distraction
an infectious interaction
that puts things off track

mellowed attributes and more attention
make room for romance soon to be rotten
a spark of love so soon forgotten

apparatus attitudes
practice in ventriloquism of truth
an alchemist interlude
as I manoeuvre to conclude
these epiphanies are constant
then snoozed away
I don't owe you
in blue to choose these lazy ways
days of ***** are hazy with
drunken clues, to forget the thoughts
bought from the hangover before
this is gifted guilt but I know me by now
and its obscurely ordinary
to be deliciously disgusted by you
one who basks in the soft heat of grandiose moonliness
growing fatter on honeyed imaginations
their sicklysweetness soaking through the pores
of countless generations
their minds invade a collective consciousness
burning arcs of inspiration – torches of the collective vision
in drilling through mutual experience
great gaping black holes of creation
effigies of super-egos, lynched on altars of desire
neon flames and disco lights, emotions on a massive pyre
maiden voyagers on never-ending cruise
sinking in foreign oceans – their endurance dupes
minor gods of destiny and fate they await
dionysian ****** of wine and food for thought
and hearts that beat in unison
a schizoid muttering that enlarges and deafens
manic pleasure that spins and spins
in eternal circles of pleasure and pain, loss  and gain
opioid mists that dream a dream of everlasting name
an addiction an obsession that sumbits
to some masochistic drive
to empathize.

- Vijayalakshmi Harish
        06.09.2012

Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
”The courage of the poet is to keep ajar the door that leads into madness.” - Christopher Morley
K Balachandran Nov 2014
Her elegance, if as she pretends
is such an exquisite, priceless wine,
I'd just admire the bottle from afar, that's fine.
Relishing with out tasting it, is an
undiminishing  pleasure, beyond expression
she'd understand it in this instance

If desire eluding fulfillment, is pain
it's the ***** for me now, I 'd enjoy my trip,
even if my stubborn stance is in vain,
I'd rather die wanting, won't toe her line.
If with such allure, someone tempts too much
wants to prove a point after all this I've done to woo her,
I am not the one to submit, say uncle.
Let me make sure I'd rob the very thought
from her and keep it in a dark cave, as a treasure
for some future hunter  in search of ego's glitter
of a woman, that was robbed once and for all.
In human zoo, once when dating game was in progress..
vircapio gale Mar 2014
1.

dear feminism,
do i think of women
when i write to you?

why do i personify?

angry at an unjust world,
angry at injustice in ourselves,
have i been taught to fear you?
ignore inequity of fears?

or hide  
in the shadows of your salty curves
speaking soft with sycophantic tilt?

was this what mother meant,
portending talk of therapy
two decades in advance?

a bouy on three waves,
i crash against protuberances too:
limp didactics on avoidance for the victims,
waking in continuums of shrugging crime.

sameness differs in utopias --
every latent gut avers the right to spill.
despite the lissome quell forgetfulness contains,
my proper sphere will leave me
deafened in a wrack-dry
tidal echo--
'Fairness' stains clear beauty dark
as my imagined egos drown at last
from down our oceanic well of shame.

sacrifices fade,
i cannot write...
i write, and fail,
defined by sediment cliche,
reading women authors out of obligation ..odd desire,
and so in dim medieval-fashion
miss
the trail of monoliths erected
for a craven ease

2.

dear civil rights,
why were you taught
through prisms of boredom?
my voiceless reading left you to your rage,
while i communed with glossy nature,
private leaves.

how dare i clap your back
"congratulations"
at your tidy givens  granted
scars were open past my seeing,
and bleed still

while right here, empathy dies, now

dreams are bombed,
grafted to infected faculties
to wallow tended in a garden of injustice
erudite and dead,
i **** a bit i tell myself then stuff my face with food,
cover breath with smoke
and sleep in sour ignorance
no courage left to care.
blind grins bouquet the status quo
of rotted stems, discarded roots

i bury you with homeland fear
the killing silence filled with just intentions
for tomorrow

3.

dear feminism,
you speak for me, too--
my genderless ear attunes

cathartic sweep of ills
scaled beyond your other selves,
sexing into common chosen songs

no fearful tremble
at a mainstream backdrop reprimand--
to be a good gender,
--this gender not that gender--
gestate bigotry of symbol wombs,
cut ripe to cater to unquestioned whim;
no violent selfhood requisitioning
to closet inner innocence in pain

contractions shock in further waves
i midwife simple hope i hope
true fairness you have nursed in seeing death


4.

dear punk **** feminism,
marginal i ask as i perform
unstructured sutras on my heart
exemplar of a meta-freedom
burning in the core of threaded ages strung--
how then life without your voice,
vast silence unobserved,
the hidden anti-*** persisting
in our gender-theory--theorizing sterile norms--
sweet pulsing concupiscence
in our every waking breath
a pollinating zephyr tease toward
celebrating every feotal bathtub bliss --
unbridled ideologies unleashed
unmade into opining din

5.

dear temperance,
i vote you cherished
whirlwind
singing endless through the ageist ridicule
apparent failure in the civil warrior's eye
dogma blinks
denial of the rights you suffered for
but underneath compassion all along
i rally in your family's younger gaze
staring down,
questioning the steady rhythm of a whiskied fist

6.

dear feminism,
have i been taught to celebrate you?
have i been taught to fear for you?
have i been taught to treat you as a woman?
why do i personify you?
like some Sophia cybered up atop the forums of our age

blind and failing
i would be dust as well
like any rightful fading into dust
be swept along with all coercive screenings,
fear-born silences
immune to reason and the reasons of the heart--
rather than to live forgetting
letting go the questions giving rise to equals in a discourse
revising what it means to ask the meaning of


#
dear feminism,

when you are gone..
i for one will sing you
hope

to protest bigotry
a raging tranquil step
of care-filled voicing

dare an upward sloping arc
a dream becoming shared
to overcome
attain
inspired by once unfamiliar names

i will still be here,
the angry feminist
burning in my flagging underwear

brightest outrage at injustice
your deeper loves, fairness
selfhood honored
as if written in the stars
or ancient shorelines
-- you will not be gone
"She says, he wrote it--he says, she wrote it." -Lucretia Mott, speaking to the collaborative efforts of J S Mill and Harriet Taylor
Paul R Mott Apr 2012
When I look within my arms, there’s nobody there.
No head on this shoulder, it doesn’t seem fair
for the chauvinists and players to always have a girl.
While the nice guy sits alone, the only pearl
in an ocean of sharks and poison, waiting
for the unsuspecting to bite on this strange thing
called love, shared between those too drunk
to drive, but still steering their lives into the abyss
where there are no pearls and no lifelines to save them.
But still they plunge deeper, fated to do it again.

Only time will expose the light of day
and they will blink their eyes and say,
what was I thinking?  What was the point?
and finally they realize what they really want.
But all that’s left are the sharks with their egos to flaunt.
So they pick one and get used to the bitter ocean.
They keep up this lie in order to go on.
And then when the tide finally rolls in,
they can’t swallow their pride anymore
so they choke on reality and swim to shore.

But there is no pearl necklace to hide their past-
no amount of make-up to hide their last
affair.  Its mark will always mar that perfect face.
And when they’re finally ready to find a pearl in this dangerous place
he’s been snatched up, made his own mistakes,
gone places impure, and hard to erase.
So these crimes of adolescence can withstand the waves
and wear away at the innocence sending us closer to our graves
Stealing away the weak and repeating the cycle.
tayler Jan 2014
everything we
do is selfish and to boost
our fragile egos.
Cweeta Cwumble May 2016
i want to feel the rush,
the tingly fireworks under my skin,
the buzzing sparks of awakeness.
i want to feel the bubble burst in my chest.
i want to dance. i want to ride the music
like a rollercoaster,
i want the thrill of the next drop,
the next wave of euphoria
pulsating through my veins
like electric current conducted by
all the goings-on around me
i want your energy and my energy
mixing together in the air around us
like a glittery galaxy milky-way aura,
a sanctuary of our own vibrations,
a place where our hearts are huge
and our egos small.
a place of peace, of love,
of unity, and respect,
of higher elevations
and acceptance for all.
can't we just do drugs?
Tuffy Mutombo Mar 2019
Written poetry on ***** walls
Cleaned by tears of critics views
who choose to destroy your existence
by breaking down your words
stealing your flow while sleeping with your metaphors
destroying your credibility
while attempting to darken your ability
hungry ego's seeking compliments
starve when you pay them no attention
causing tension due to starvation
power is never in the eyes of the writer
it lives in the imagination of the readers
perception filled minds clouded by emotions
thirsting for your reaction, while choking on your analogies
hungry egos must be fed or else.....
Give this meaning.
Poetic T Jan 2019
A job for life,
   that's what was advertised.
But I was just a penny in the slot.

Mine wasn't as shinny as the others.
     Even though I was on top of my work.
Just because I didn't shine up to those above me.

Ok, I wasn't the silver coin, I wasn't even bronze.
                 But they tainted me, because I wasn't
the right side of a flipped coin.

And just like that I was the penny in the poor box..


Why was I of less worth than those
                       that never excelled..
   I never put a word wrong.
          never gargling *****,
         sniffing the cheeks of brown refuse.

But still I'm in the food bank,
                 like Oliver,

         Can I have some more sir...

I'll never delve to the depravity of others..
         feeding glutinous egos..
        
They can starve, I'll find a worth among
the wasted, and show that I'm more than
what's needed.
                                                I have worth..

But for now I'll be on the bread line,
                cooking my own..
And even though now I've not risen,
         I'll show what time cooks..
I'm more than my last resamay..

I 'll never understand where quality of slavery
            means I'm less of worth...
it's ok Feb 2015
Egos are false, they fail you, let you down.
Kick you over, leave you thinking you're better than someone else
Egos are not true, we are all equals, all equally important

Low self esteem is the same in many ways, it lets you down.
Kicks you while you're down, leaves you thinking someone else is better
Your insecurities are not true, we are all important, as well as you.

The only thing left is to be self aware and to know who you are
Become comfortable with yourself, and love yourself
And love everyone around you, including your enemies
I am grateful for the paths that have been wrote onto pages, I am aware of my ignorance to my pre-generations
I am in tune with reality though I seek to change it
I am in control of my own and bleed out ink to the nation
I respect myself first and all others past
I seek to understand first, I seek peace alas
I choose not to fear egos of man on this plane
For that Is no script of redemption from pain
William J. Crowell
April 28, 2012
Confessions of a Blessed Hedonist.( tri word line)  
  -1-                                                    ­                -3-
Lived this long,                                                 what makes change?
Time just flew,                                                   a metamorphosis divine?
Mind playing games                                        worms to butterflies,
Heart desiring ever.                                           saviors, angels, messiahs?
extreme cravings doused.                                 what makes humane,
opiates in zillions,                                               friends, lovers, brothers?
Cocktails, a million.                                           Destinies unknown working,
Endless revelries futile,                                       in times unconscious,
Loves instant, genuine.                                       drunken slumbers dead,
Clean beds crumpled,                                         uncaring deeds cruel,
Checkouts late rewarded.                                   Unmanly acts shameful.
-2-                                                    ­                       -4-
Friends dear betrayed,                                         maybe one dream,
Away bartered loves.                                           among nightmares plenty,
Much monies made,                                            that one love-germ,
Abandoned ethics many.                                    under in-differences heaped,
Gods all rejected,                                                  faint glimmering self,
Except the Hedonistic!                                         beneath mountainous egos,
World enjoyed fully,                                             a sparkling life-sign,
Life wasted lovely.                                                 in cemeteries silent.
Morphing every second,                                       causes matter not,      
Into grandiose nothing,                                         by destiny’s graces,
Skeleton cynical final.                                           gratefully unscathed still.
Idonotexist Jan 2014
We mourn in silence
as sun shines everyday
trying to bring rays
of hope and smile
to millions desperate

In darkness of the night
Moon gives hope
through the reflected light
of the golden sun
portraying the same intention
and stars chuckle by
like millions of orphaned
children wandering our dark world

Technology which brought in abundance
has left us in want
machines brought in to give leisure
has left us with no time at all
Virtual net which brought people
miles apart together has resulted
virtual bubbles of gloating egos
we are together yet alone and
isolated in this world of paradox

serpents of guilt keep dancing
around yet the cloak of fear
blinds us we ignore
and without even us realizing
all that we do
along with all other beings
residing on this beautiful earth
we just mourn
blasting our lungs out
in silence
Emma Sawyer Feb 2010
Spider-man and X-Men.
The complex characters that we see.
Saving their worlds from minor disasters.
Oh the joys of being free.

Trapped by the needs of others so needy.
And the praise they get in return?
A pat on the back or a slap in the face.
The death of the hero, simply begins to burn.

Batman and Ironman.
The billionaires beyond belief.
High class minds disguised in smart business suits.
Living their egos, their dreams, while hiding their grief.

People know there names by heart.
Knowing if in danger, they will come and save their life.
But simple as it sounds, we can never know the heroes path
One only goal they seem to want; ends in ****** strife.

The Flash and Green Lantern.
All our heroes come in different light.
Costume to powers and histories to pasts.
They soon end up consumed by endless fight.

Media creates the false hopes for people everywhere.
Chaos never-ending; the pain never seeming to cease.
Yet we're all struck with the tiniest of hope.
Uniting as one, we form our own release.

Captain America and Superman too.
Every hero has one thing they can share forever.
Its not so complex that people will never know, nor is a mystery of life.
Its simply, no matter who you are, you are a hero, holding people together.
ElSawyer(c)2010
Daniel Wetter Oct 2014
I look with worried eyes, at social Vines, of flashing lights and a lack of rights.
Human compassion is lacking where it needs to be.
Hate feeds off of hate,
but if thats all it takes,
then love should come so easily.

Bashing in windows.
Spraying with mace.
Choking to death.
Eliminating race.
Classes are gone,
So classless mistakes,
are now made daily
at the hastiest rate.

We’re starving and hungry for the tastiest taste,
of what has become the most delicious
most suspicious,
vicious,
fishy,
repetitious,
superstitious,
vision named freedom.

It's naive to think we’re free when all that we see,
is a sea of beings not being one thing,
and that’s free.
When was the last time you felt it?
And we’ve been given a life long song and dance of "whoever smelt it dealt it".
So if you took the feeling of now and held it,
bottled it up and shelved it,
you would open up to find your mind in decline.
This moment was better
while laters behind.
Thats the path that we’re on
but we have control.
We’re not egos and clothes,
we’re people of souls
We're humans of thought
Not students of hate.
Evil got a head start,
but now truth is in the race.
And if truth is in your face,
and you choose to look away,
then get used to the abuse
and not confused at truce-less fates.
The pre action of action is thinking to act.
I'm thinking that actually we’re ready to snap.
They’ve bent us too far,
for us to go back.
The past is a place where patterns attack.
And people are put
no matter the facts.
Police are afoot
demanding the last,
of freedoms they take them,
and **** them with gas.
A historical scene on Kentucky blue grass
these colors don't bleed,
yet we see they fade fast.
We’ve exceed the need,
to keep things intact.
Got tired of seeing videos online of Police abusing people. What's it REALLY going to take?

— The End —