"emancipated" poems
I am in fact a dinosaur
****** into the late 50s
Child of the 60s
Emancipated: late 70s
Came of age through the 80s
Became a man in the 90s
Time travelled in 2000 but
The naughts were frought
Better when in the 2010s
Seeing liberation by the 20s
Extant not yet extinct
This dinosaur still roars.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 6:19 PM UTC
I'm telling lies to terrorize tame territory,
and so they'll strip me down, string me up, and bleed me dry of glory.
Mourning from the morning after, hanging from a ceiling rafter.
Two rows of platinum canines, call me a gangsta-veloci-rapper.
Truly emancipated, drinking whiskey from Lincoln's skull.
Proclamation of my bank roll grants more ***** than animal control.
Flicking cigarettes at MC's who think they're superior,
into their passenger window to burn holes in their interior.
I run all night, jiggle my handle after flushing.
All the plump gals seem to love me, I've got their cellulite a'blushing.
I don't like ***** but I'll sip on something Russian,
if you ship her in the mail first class from your Middle-Euro cousin.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
The road skits faster
Than my eyes can capture
Gravel flying upwards like bullets
The winds are familiar
So is this place
My conscious is emancipated
As I draw closer towards home
The warmth and safety enhances me
Familiar is what I crave
Home is what I need
To forget today's work and sweat
Truly I don't need that anymore
It'll be on pause till tomorrow
When I return to that world again
But for now its home
Like a queen needs her bed
So do I.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 5:14 AM UTC
Once upon a time there was a lonely creature
Mind always shrouded in darkness
Hopeless was he, without a prayer for salvation
Dwelling forever in the abyss
But then one glorious afternoon
An angel's light broke through the gloom
They were both far from home
In a land they didn't know
She held out her hand
And asked him to follow
And the demon loved an angel
She brought salvation to his pain
The demon loved an angel
She was his white rose in the rain
The demon loved an angel
His heart no longer black
The demon loved an angel
But she could never...love him back
They journeyed together in a far off land
Where all they had was each other
It was there amongst forests and lakes
The one fell in love with the other
The demon and the angel, together but alone
The demon's cold and bitter heart, no longer made of stone
The angel brought him peace
Showed love to a beast
From his pain emancipated
From his sorrow, now released
And the demon loved an angel
She brought salvation to his pain
The demon loved an angel
She was his white rose in the rain
The demon loved an angel
His heart no longer black
The demon loved an angel
But she could never...love him back
They knew they had to return home
But he could not say goodbye
The thought of losing her forever
Ripped through him inside
But in the end, they parted ways
And he returned home
Back to the abysmal gloom
Once again alone
Before long she disappeared
Never to be found
Then the pain, the sorrow and loss
Pulled his soul back down...
And to this day he wonders why
Why he couldn't say goodbye
And to this day he's lived a life
Of joy and sorrow, peace and strife
But since that day he's watched the stars
And can't forget the ancient scars
Try as he might, he can't let go
Of the day so long ago....
That the demon loved an angel
She brought salvation to his pain
The demon loved an angel
She was his white rose in the rain
The demon loved an angel
His heart no longer black
The demon loved an angel
But she could never love him back
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:46 PM UTC
(Act 1)
As I lay there among the trees and the shrubbery
Spread before me were fields of gold
Weeds, flowers and twigs tickle my face
And above me an azure sky
Shining upon me by some heavenly divinity
Light streams through gaps in clouds
The sun beyond is impenetrable, a fortress of energy, and the clouds seem in awe
For miles visible, grass twinkles with morning dew,
So that I see flashes of reflection when I stare out across the horizon
A chorus of starry wonder brought to this ground;
When I try hard, I can calm the pulses of light in my eyes.
The sea of glittering droplets seems to fade,
But is never out of reach of my concentration.
And I perceive rolling mists
Hills that seem to swim to and fro and warp in and out of the skyline,
And the wind silently brushes the grass,
Gently moving the blades in a swaying rhythm
Like the rhythm of my heart beating, yet time stands still
And I can only absorb the pinks, greens and blues.
All the gold, seeming like visions of eternity
Momentarily I think all is boundless
My transient thoughts alone may speak a thousand stagnant words,
But that indescribable epiphany brought a river of speech and thought,
With which I felt I could transcend the inhibitions and degradations that afflicted my mind,
Soar above fields marked by fences and enclosed by vision and space
As if I were to find a boundless pattern, to speak aloud words of wisdom,
That I had been in this world for longer than that flash of inspiration that had brought me here.
I am, and therefore I think about what I am.
With all the force of crashing mountain-tops,
Or the bolt of lightning splitting the air
I am emancipated, as I ascend, beyond the negligent frontier of chaos
Below me that gurgling pit of utter curdling mire,
That entrenched the soul in fear,
And its walls reached and leaned, unassailable, around me
And now in golden fields, no restrictions placed on thought or speech,
Logic or discourse still grip or rule me.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 9:09 PM UTC
Can you hear the strange noise in my heart? It makes vrruuuum, vrruuuum , vrruuuum every time you nap fondly on my pillow.
My heart is a spy, tic tac by the clock, carrying the breeze in the ball of a thumb, while 's quietly de flowering your dreams, layer by layer.
As if exists a collection of you in the ******* of mankind !
A small brute , the naughty child playing kalasnikov games and puzzlling the answers, the teenager tucking the drums, loud in all radios and smashing pumpkins on nirvanaheads spooning on MDMA flying .
The grown up's ready for work, bored as Peter Pan growing and sometimes funny when life's a ***** I just saw you drinking Madeira wine in public toilets, splashing *** on your toes while dreaming in rainbows of plastic.
I'm the frame of your dream. I'm here to take care of you while you're the squeeze of the petals and the whistle into the sound of the music.
Aug 12, 2013
Aug 12, 2013 at 7:56 AM UTC
(insert generic death metal song title here one)
Human blood bath
Soak in ********* and human waste
Got a taste for the diseased human race
Acid melting face
Drink from the spewing flesh
Gurgle and gargle to the dying beat
Of a victims last gulp of tarnished breath
(insert generic death metal song title here two)
Skull cracked and bleeding
Blood **** filled wounds seeping
Immaculate Christ unjaded
Aborted abortion
Born and bathed in afterbirth
Blown and constipated in foreign ***** matter
Torn from arms of zombie flesh
Decaying in the hot summer sun
Baked in the hot summer sun
(insert generic death metal song title here three)
Trash my intended victim with nothing better to do
Than torture **** **** and torture some more
Death does not last in the flesh
Emancipated from life
Just a breath away from dying
Hang on to the threads of the noose
Strangulating the frustrating last gasp of air
Torture **** **** and torture some more
Out of boredom and out of time
Boredom kills
You better watch out
I’m coming for you
(insert generic death metal song title here four)
Hollow eye sockets
Wretched
Reeking
Filthy ****
Plastered on crimson caked hands
****** dirt beneath the fingernails
Scratches scraped in the walls
From bodies dragged thru the hall
Down the stairs to the killing room
Meat hook art show of disembodied
And disemboweled corpses
Dismembered in some horrorshow freakshow
Bowl of human remains cooked on the stove
For this years All-You-Can-Eat chili fest
Lick savory lips with salted tongue
Hunger pains from cannibalistic urges
The brain tastes best when paired with a good wine
Eat, drink, and be merry
Tomorrow you’re on the menu
Sep 17, 2011
Sep 17, 2011 at 2:23 PM UTC
Going skinny dipping on a warm night in July
Got my blanket, some Chardonnay
And one big happy Smile
I know a quiet stretch of shoreline
It is so sublime
For dressing down for skinny dipping
On a warm night in July
Not a care does my heart own tonight
The moon is full
The tide is high
And yes, the time is right
And as I run I start to peel
The layers that fence me in
I’m running down that sandy strip
Back to how we all began
Going skinny dipping on a warm night in July
All I got for company is
Ocean and sky
I love this quiet stretch of shoreline
It just suits me fine
For dressing down for skinny dipping
On a warm night in July
My heart is beating lighter
My skin no more a slave
Emancipated flesh and bone
Just dreaming on a wave ~~~~~
Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh
You know the hands of time
Don’t ever wait for any gal or guy
Gonna run into this moment
Gonna dive into this moment
And just float upon the moment
Skinny Dipping on a warm night in July
Apr 9, 2013
Apr 9, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
They were like two peas in a pod
Holding hands
Exchanging tongues
Being prissy and laughing at those
Who long before saw their act
Though those two queers, they don’t see at all
They are midgets, and little, and erectly small
With puffed up chests
Stroking hens of the Cornish variety
All of them dregs of a social society
Slum lords and criminal minds
Under the sheets where no one sees
Which one is giving the other the shaft
**** and span they use after, oh so daft
One erotically whispered to the other
A Pain in the ***
As they kissed over their biblical wine glass
Seeking solace in each others arms
Licking their wounds with grammars charm
Grown men, committing sin after sin
Then blaming others for saying
God wants you to begin
Acting like men
And not emancipated boys
Stop diddling and twiddling
Leave alone your petite toys
One day Jehovah will make clear
Belittle others is worse than Queer
Little queens swallowing their own vile
While Ladies and Gentleman laugh
At the ****** and the Clown
In their lingerie and gown
God decried, let those two drown
Even Lucifer laughed under his frown
Mar 15, 2017
Mar 15, 2017 at 10:48 PM UTC
I heard a whisper.
a thought like dust
caught the air of my breath
and landed on every heartbeat still beating for something more than themselves.
a rationale.
a stable refuge.
these are the things I imbue.
nocturnal nonsense swirled about
until your gaze caught my thoughts.
I saw your eyes behind mine.
emancipated, delegated, underrated and unillustrated,
how can I better express myself.
I lost myself trying to lose you.
I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders
to your front door step and left it with a key.
Walk a mile in my shoes and still ask me who's the enemy.
I am.
I am my own downfall.
masquerades never suited me
yet I still wore it with agony.
Antagonized from every side,
the lies lie far between you and I.
I succeeded in forgetting something that never happened
and got trapped inside those angel eyes.
remain a nuisance, my misguided matrimony.
gravity awaits,
for we are all destined to fall.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
∞
___Name the word, for the word has a name.___
_Listen to it breathe. Let it lie lightly in the mind and liquid
on the tongue. Bear its essence forth, its personality and its intention
- conceived briefly, discarded readily, pronounced forcefully.
∞
How does it sit with you? The spread of its silhouette suspended
within a silent interval. How does it move you? An attitude framed by
the gesture of a hand. Is its pitch sharp or flat, its texture course or fine?
∞
Allow meaning and resonance, intonation and feeling to merge unencumbered;
the syntax of the imprisoned soul, emancipated by a river of sound, to mould
the shape of your aboutness, around and within, beyond and in spite of..._
___And hear consciousness dance.___
∞
Nov 26, 2020
Nov 26, 2020 at 7:42 PM UTC
I want to write that poem.
The one that will make you *** in your pants.
Make you click up your heels, dance on your father's grave. Then your mother will become an emancipated slave!
To punch that bully square in the face, the one that made you want to erase your grade school years.
I want this poem to make you feel so **** get you to can dance around naked without a fear.
I want it to help you find a lover, someone who will pamper your heart like no other.
Maybe it can help you patch up family arguments. Instead of calling that guy an ******* you can actually acknowledge he is your brother.
Hopefully, it can raise the dead. Let the answers you desire become said.
The children you wish on a star for, turn around and they appear. Don't want them? Make a wish and they are removed , a few miles from here.
Here, take this. Use it to dry those heavy tears.
Who knows?
It may even compliment your saggy rear!
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 11:28 PM UTC
Every era that has ever been
Has engaged in the auto-dissection
Of their yellowing underbellys.
Yes, every generation has predicted
that the end is nigh,
That god is on their side;
But the devil has a crowbar
And is busting out of the basement.
Each decade is a mimicry of the last.
Different fashions, same trends
And always, with a fool on the hill.
A lonely steel harmonica can pierce the airwaves
Across space and time,
Through the grooves and crackles
To enthral an audience,
And to beguile that every generation
Into believing in their autonomy,
Their solitude,
With a fate independent of all those centuries past.
Through every disembodied spew of Dylan lyrics,
Or the corporeal and common alienation
Sympathised in every Wilde reference,
Comes the same fury at the chaos of a world
That is no more than indifferent at the plight of the people it houses.
Indeed,
Every generation has sought to either
Cure the ills of the Earth;
Or else set lighter fluid to the lot.
This stretches back to the first blood-spattered edition of the Bible,
And further, much further.
To all of the captains,
The heroes,
The anti-heroes,
The road gritter,
The malevolent dictator,
The schoolteacher,
The emancipated woman
And the borderline feminist.
To every young child who is reluctant to take the spotlight,
Or look you in the eye,
Ask questions, or speak out.
For every one of those who at some point were labelled
‘maladjusted’.
And so the Pharaohs and Caesars are all but gone now,
Replaced by the big-wigs,
The fat-cats,
The purple hearted,
The playboys -
The men in suits.
But they are all the same.
The same behind the decadence of
A solid gold sarcophagus
Or an Armani pair of shades.
They all built their empire on shifting sands.
And so we will all kick and scream
To our own tone and our own time
At the indignity of the world.
At our bespoke knowledge
To deal with all inconvenience
But that which privates the preclusion
Of any and all major slaughters of justice.
As for that young child,
With the lack of eye contact -
And all that he will become:
He will sit. And he will type.
He will type until his words fall beyond that
Of the spiralling noises inside his mind
And blossom into something pure and ugly and beautiful.
He will sit and he will write
To forget.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 8:21 PM UTC
Drawing upon the core of my being, I muster up the strength to survive.
Stepping into another plane of existence; one in which I have no capacity to resist toxicity; I am vulnerable.
A juggernaut lies at the end of the daylight hours; soft in temper and yet scourging in it’s pronouncements.
This is a being with no malicious intent; a sentinel guarding the sacred caliber of a spirit under divine instruction.
Darkness pervades in the form of light; I can sense a façade of purity within the confines of my bones.
This fortress that I have traversed into is infected with a murky haze looming just above the skies.
Escape is my only option; if I remain here it will be my demise.
When the juggernaut arrives, trepidation will electrify my soul; it will animate me.
Fear consumes me with every waking second I’m in it’s midst.
-This gargantuan being understands-
Empathy cannot save me however, once the utterances of ancient spirit inflict scathing wounds upon me in the name of humanity.
Attempting to rescue me from the tumult of the planet does not obscure the pain and heartache of compassionate words.
Wisdom lies within this walking tome; statue-esque maiden.
I have used my discernment as a bulwark; protection from wounds of sensitivity lies in detachment from myself.
I have come to realize that supplication does have a purpose.
-To plea with the remnants of a long forgotten world-
I am overwhelmed with euphoria when I realize that my fears have been nothing but stymie.
Fleeting in nature; they whispered to me of my incapacity to reach the heart of a relic growing wiser by the minute.
There is no judgment to be passed and I have been emancipated from the shackles of a foreshadowing past.
It leads to my genesis; the day when I shall be lifted up past all my iniquity.
Until that day, I await the metamorphosis of an ailing planet.
The Juggernaut does have a purpose.
This maiden shall be a beacon amongst the tumult of the seasons.
I shall look to her as a guide and honesty is what shall pervade from her lips.
In trueness she shall bestow her utterances upon me.
Like the sweetest honey, her words will befall my eardrums.
Internalization spurs a chemical reaction within me.
I am changing.
I have been enveloped by blinding rays of light.
The darkness is no match for the spiritual sinew that I possess.
I am growing by the second… I am growing prayer by prayer.
-Amen-
By Iridescently Efflorescent
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
Just to level with ya
I'm not on a level with ya
I'm my super futuristic swag ish
The kinda ish you cant cope with
Nine Lives
No worries the mayans calendar brought no end for me
I'm an entity
Reincarnated many times past
They say seeing is believing
Watch how my soul last
Throughout time like a fine wine
I'll make my impression
Take note of this life lesson
many have tried but there is really no one like me
I come from dimensions ascended from queens
Supreme being
Check my pedigree
Things mere mortals can't see or even relate to
If I were you I would bow down to my greatness in front of you
No reason for the southern hospitality
But no confusion or illusion
I'm a southern girl until they bury me
Only the deep can contemplate the inner working mechanisms of this story
Destined for greatness
Leaving my mark embarking on this journey
I'm under appreciated
So I emancipated my mindset
And went on a diet dropped alot of dead weight
To think with a higher realm of reason
Lest we forget I speak with foreign tongue
To those who can't comprehend my exsistence
So in close i'm me
I'll never be residual
top notch first round draft pick
I'm a truly unique individual
I dont know another way to be
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 3:01 PM UTC
To all the weak female strands who want to be emancipated from a world that laughs
You need to let me caress your memory glands with my bare hands.
These thoughts were expressed in advance
Oh
how this hype night is settling in,
everyone asking me if I can tell them again.
Simple tactics.
Put this data in.
Stop talking **** and provide the action.
The crowd stood clapping
So listen ***
T h e W o r l d MUST S e e Y o u r F u l l
M e n t a l C a p a c i t y M a x i m u m !
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 10:01 PM UTC
The vibrancy of youth now succumbs to the anaesthetic of indifference, like testicular feminisation of the masses.
I often contemplate the indifference of cacti in Arizona, where handle-bar moustaches curl with the worldly-wisdom of motorcycle gangs.
So, strip meat from the perimeter of the wishbone and feel the waves of nocturnal celebrations, as we slide into a deep winter slumber.
You will waken from a crisis of identity and be emancipated from stereotypical cavities where thorny plantations thrive amidst unforgiving terrains.
Snap it in half, and you will see mystical Arabian genie’s arise from magical carpets.
Oh, one more thing: I am not a detective.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
Drawing upon the core of my being, I muster up the strength to survive.
Stepping into another plane of existence; one in which I have no capacity to resist toxicity; I am vulnerable.
A juggernaut lies at the end of the daylight hours; soft in temper and yet scourging in it’s pronouncements.
This is a being with no malicious intent; a sentinel guarding the sacred caliber of a spirit under divine instruction.
Darkness pervades in the form of light; I can sense a façade of purity within the confines of my bones.
This fortress that I have traversed into is infected with a murky haze looming just above the skies.
Escape is my only option; if I remain here it will be my demise.
When the juggernaut arrives, trepidation will electrify my soul; it will animate me.
Fear consumes me with every waking second I’m in it’s midst.
-This gargantuan being understands-
Empathy cannot save me however, once the utterances of ancient spirit inflict scathing wounds upon me in the name of humanity.
Attempting to rescue me from the tumult of the planet does not obscure the pain and heartache of compassionate words.
Wisdom lies within this walking tome; statue-esque maiden.
I have used my discernment as a bulwark; protection from wounds of sensitivity lies in detachment from myself.
I have come to realize that supplication does have a purpose.
-To plea with the remnants of a long forgotten world-
I am overwhelmed with euphoria when I realize that my fears have been nothing but stymie.
Fleeting in nature; they whispered to me of my incapacity to reach the heart of a relic growing wiser by the minute.
There is no judgment to be passed and I have been emancipated from the shackles of a foreshadowing past.
It leads to my genesis; the day when I shall be lifted up past all my iniquity.
Until that day, I await the metamorphosis of an ailing planet.
The Juggernaut does have a purpose.
This maiden shall be a beacon amongst the tumult of the seasons.
I shall look to her as a guide and honesty is what shall pervade from her lips.
In trueness she shall bestow her utterances upon me.
Like the sweetest honey, her words will befall my eardrums.
Internalization spurs a chemical reaction within me.
I am changing.
I have been enveloped by blinding rays of light.
The darkness is no match for the spiritual sinew that I possess.
I am growing by the second… I am growing prayer by prayer.
-Amen-
By Iridescently Efflorescent
Jul 29, 2012
Jul 29, 2012 at 12:30 AM UTC
A lascivious flavor now in season of moon
together, dot the beach
with this underlying nonchalance
only has belief in destiny
that our harmony such enrapture
now endeavor then enamor
emancipated lure in a gaze redeeming light.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 10:50 AM UTC
(Aye.., I wanna be free3)..I (wanna be free2)..I wanna be free,..(aye..I wanna be freed 2)..(Aye ..I wanna live free2)..(I wanna be freed, 3) from all of this pain mane..(Aye I wanna be free2)..mane this world is insane,..(Aye I wanna live free3)..from all of the grieve mane..(Aye I wanna be freed3), emancipated,... Aye,Man
How does it feels to be free,.Aye, I wanna know How does it feels to live free, Aye I wanna be free..Aye, How does it feels to be free,.Aye,..I wanna know How does it feels to live free, Could somebody answer me please.., Instead of passing by me mane,..Aye,They just keep on ignoring me, & Its so annoying to me,..because they are the ones that need my help the most,They need me more than I need them mane,..Aye..How does it feels to be free,.Aye,.I wanna know How does it feels to live free, can yall please stop walking over me mane,..I wanna know How does it feels to be free,.Aye,,
Can somebody please tell me How does it feels to live free,. Because I really wanna know mane..How does it feels to be free,.Aye,How does it feels to live free mane I guess I can only get the best answer from my king Jah ,..Aye
How does it feels to be free,.Aye,How does it feels to live free,Yo that's a good question that would probably never be answered because we all are under mind control by the CIA ,..MK ULTRA, Aye
If I can't be freed then Imma start alot of chaos mane..
If I can't be freed then Imma start madness right away..If I can't be freed then Imma just lead the way for the next generation..Aye,..If I can't be freed then Imma just emancipate myself mane,..It's time to Prison Break,..Aye I wanna be free..(from all the hate2)..(I wanna live free,2)..(from all this pain2)..I wanna be free Prison Break..(I wanna be free..I wanna be freed2)..no matter how many lustful thoughts enter my mind mane, no I won't let these demons confuse me, No way..
Imma stay having hope..Imma stay having faith..Imma stay praying above mane for changes to come into effect in this evil sick crazy world mane,..I can't let the thoughts of not having what I want curropt me, I won't let all of my depression upset me,..I'm sailing all of my pain away,..I'm sailing all of my anger out too mane,..I'm breaking free from every single generational cursed that Satan has place on my me & family,..I'm being me, myself , & I & I'm breaking free, Aye...
I know that the government has been chasing me, but noo I ain't afraid of a good challenge mane..The Illuminati can't have my soul Noo way, These jeaslous people can't have my body..Noo,Noo, mane.. I'm playing a solo game, aye, & I'm steady finding my way, Aye..I'm in the dark homie, but I'm using my spirit to see, Yeah my spirit shines so bright in me,..I think that's just the Holy spirit mane, I always gotta give my praises up to the Heavenly,.. & stump down on Satan mane,
I'm on a mission, I'm emissioning all of this realness, To remission all of the darkness, Aye, no Batman No part time, Noo I won't clock out..I'm saving all of my brothers & sisters that's soul less, Yeah They can & will get their souls back because Imma fight & Imma make sure of that,..Aye,..can somebody please let me know something.., before I start shooting,. Aye..
Young Ston Poet, I wanna be freed mane..
Dec 28, 2015
Dec 28, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
There is nothing left
but a mute scream
wrapped in barbed wire
dipped in gasoline
Holding the match
between teeth
clenched tight
dreaming sulfur,
sparks
Oxygen feeding
combustion equals
explosion,
vacuum,
creation of
emancipated
******
***
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications; 2016
Feb 28, 2016
Feb 28, 2016 at 11:12 AM UTC
She hates that she is spineless:
Starved of strength
Emancipated.
She hates that she is passive:
She has two legs
But cannot stand for anything
When faced with a loud voice
And menacing words
That threaten the tranquility of her dream-world;
The dream-world
Where conflict is banned
And people always have the best intentions
Because in essence man is good.
She hates that
When faced with a thousand possibilities
Tensions rise
And gears stick
Creak
Metal on metal
Straining
Pushing
As she tries not to succumb to her nature
But in spite of it all
Her head overheats
And she overloads
The perpetual screaming kettle, *** boiling over, and volcanic eruption
All in one
Tiny salted droplets of shame
Race down flushed and swollen cheeks
As her mental fists
Painstakingly punch her essence
Into action
Fueling a transformation with
"Inadequate"
"Failure"
And
"Lazy"
A transformation
That never sticks:
At least not as well as
Her lack of faith in herself.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 1:46 AM UTC
Black is thy name.
Black is thy shroud.
If I were to open thee,
What shall be seen?
I can feel thy Black
Soul as I spread thy
Broken wings. I hear
Each hour chime thy
Dirge and call thy
Name. I shall spread
My shoulders' blades
And feel them rise
Against my tyrannical
Skin; as thou wouldst rise
In the charcoal heavens,
Perverting it with thy
Black flock; as The Morning Star
Rose against tyrant rule
So too shall my shoulders'
Blades against my suffocating
Skin. What shall we see if
They emancipated are, or
I, eviscerated? Shall I be
Black as thee beneath my
Flesh? My ribs, and hips,
Bones, and fingers now do
The same. My bruised flesh
Shall see not the day.
What shall we see when the
Rest of it falls away? A *****
Of bones that droningly cry,
As thou screech thy name?
I think I shall be like thee,
Black in heart and Black in
Blood. I am stillborn. I shall
No longer see the day.
Jul 5, 2014
Jul 5, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
What substance was it?
The culmination of diamond-like shards
crushed and, then, melted into a precarious liquid
a liquid that follows the sway of a glass sphere attached to a glass stem
the end of which is rested between my lips
the length of the stem, itself, is clutched and rested between my index finger and my thumb
large clouds of odorless smoke besets the circumference of my bust as I exhale
immediate!
This substance will soon serenade the totality of my biology’s neurology.
Break that pipe now!
Simple glass that can be stepped on
crushed beneath feet!
What substance was that?
A human is free now
emancipated
the new substance of their affection is sobriety!
Author’s note: please, abate or diminish your substance abuse, if you have one. And, despite what I have alluded to within this poem, “sobriety” is never easily obtained, yet, it is very much worth the effort to obtain it.
Dec 30, 2024
Dec 30, 2024 at 12:24 AM UTC