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whorefrost Oct 2014
I keep finding bullets stuck between my teeth
The same ones you bought the day you decided the ceiling would look better covered in blood.
Maybe that’s why everything I say
sounds like it’s is trying to **** me.
But what do you do
when you stand in front of a mirror
with a gun to your head
and your reflection smiles back at you?
What do you do
When you stand in the middle of a busy road
And every driver is a different version of yourself you’ve tried to ****.
Every version of yourself
No one could love.
My mother used to get in fist fights with the mirror and expect to win
She says I look just like her
Maybe that’s why I wake up and can’t recognize who I am.
I checked the obituaries this morning
Trying to find myself again
It’s a habit I picked up from you
But I never thought your name would end up there before mine.
Sometimes I imagine what death feels like
Sometimes I imagine kissing you instead
By now it feels like I’m imagining the same thing.
Someone once told me that begging you to come home
Isn’t the same as praying
Maybe that’s why God stopped listening
and started smashing the windows of every place I thought we could be happy in.
Your smile looked a lot like the light at the end of the tunnel
Right before the train hits you.
I used to squint my eyes when I looked at you
Like I was looking at the sun
Or a car accident I wanted to be part of
I’m sorry I ever thought you could be anything ugly to me
You were the only beautiful thing in this hideous place.
I couldn't look at you clearly,
because I knew I would see my own face staring back at me and
your eyes were the only place I never wanted to be dead inside of.
You can only break your knuckles so many times
Before you cant hold yourself together anymore.
My hands haven’t stopped shaking since you left
I don’t know how to tell them you’re not coming back.
See, I used to say I never wanted to end up like my father
Now I have to say I never want to end up like you,
Which means I can’t leave without saying goodbye
But I tried to write my eulogy last night
And realized it's hard to write about someone I never knew.
AABHA MOHAN Apr 2014
POLIO ERADICATION
The polio virus doesn't see any region
It doesn't know any religion
The virus attacks that innocent
Whose parents have just been ignorant
And missed those two drops of life
Do boond zindagi ki
No religion wants any child to be deprived of childhood joys
Who wants his child to have CRUTCHES
Yes crutches for toys?
Like ·
Unprecedented poetry,
   newfangled conception in
      idiosyncratic transparency
perceived by the hierarchy
    to be the garb of peons,
thine command accepts nothing
 less than the likes of sonnets
   penned deliberately archaic
        in Old English tradition,
figurative language
  of the huddled masses
      is strictly forbidden,
  contradicted,
     ostracized,
        anesthetized
           and possible grounds
               for poetic eradication
AABHA MOHAN Apr 2014
POLIO ERADICATION
The polio virus doesn't see any region
It doesn't know any religion
The virus attacks that innocent
Whose parents have just been ignorant
And missed those two drops of life
Do boond zindagi ki
No religion wants any child to be deprived of childhood joys
Who wants his child to have CRUTCHES
Yes crutches for toys?
Like ·
grace snoddy Jun 2018
a body filled with familiar dread
you might say my body is already dead
my head is said to be quite fretful
took moments of quietude for granted;
and now i’m constantly regretful

the restlessness of my emotions
address my state of mind
and the distressed thoughts run around my head like guerrilas
they know they are running out of time
my jittery heart runs rampant
like a broken clock
and my only wish is for all of this to stop

the apprehension creates a detonation
a complete eradication of my elation
because my body is filled with familiar dread
and my body feels like it’s already dead
Val Ajdari Nov 2013
Like a child enlightened by heightened curiosity,
So is a native poet by poetic luminosity.
A verse in sight and sound devoid of modern flair,
For poetic convention the poet does not care.
So, take this vague verse as one roaring rhyme,
And take it as verbiage very overdue in time.
Unjustly sunken voices the poet seeks to hear,
Battling a torrent history...above, below, and near.
This inquisitive writer infers a present too dismal,
As around an angry sea lies an origin; abysmal.
Rejecting fables history’s assassins inked true,
The writer seeks fair chroniclers, but wreckage was their due.
Sought is Illyria, a place far from here.
Land said "not to exist," but its roots still reappear;
Fabricated history most poets cannot fathom,
Quelled grandiose splendor serves political stratum.
Calling curious minds to ponder this heck of a theory,
First, consider the writer's roots with impartial query.
What the Illyrian believed in was a life well spent,
Not man-led "guidance" begging cents to repent.
Since Illyria’s rebel ship sailed onto history a fright,
Shakespeare's pen amorously inked the 'Twelfth Night.’
Around Illyria’s outskirts sly mythology prevails.
Modern Illyria’s pervasion of such mythology still fails.
So, how does one interpret Illyria’s butchered will,
As her Godless schism fibbing history faux fills?
Her feeble-minded native is essentially to blame
For their grand, deceptive role in the imperialist’s game.
Brutal eradication of Illyria’s vocal reason
Deem all native conspirators of ultimate treason.
As the State buries the dissident's piercing wits,
A treasonous dog barks, upon foreign command he *****.
This wormlike betrayal, painted by his foreign master,
Is an art to be repeated in future governing disaster.
In the European south roam these bad hounds of species,
Anatomical sketches of Europe's rear excreting feces.
A pile all imperialists eject with laxative ease,
A pile all imperialists still smear as they please.
Above Illyrian graves (those below made to inspire)
The ***** dog dances, blind to his own fate in fire.
This ****** work of art, not a site for you and eye,
Is an emblematic governance gagging an eerie cry.
As today’s political pawns (in corruption they engage),
Illyria’s distinctive scions remain fools on a stage.
Our bodies dance and sway like silly puppets at play,
Our minds confined to idiocy as the socialist's prey.
So,  a poet's jingle jangle on probing minds they should linger,
As besought are worthy scions who must leave behind a "finger."
vircapio gale Sep 2012
wakefulness demands a certain clearness when asleep . . .
it doesn't come as planned
"tat tvam asi"
LaBerge says to me in dream of me
"this world you are, withstanding even torments thou art never seen."
and that's enough to suffer aching, opaque psyche summit, forward
heart to rise an interspecies knell when danceless fades the bee in droves...
aimless whales who singing deep in love are cut from evolution's murky chain...
fungal blight of hibernaculum, in deafened sonar sending sudden drop of death;
to horror fragment melt, the ocean swill from ancient caps to sunken polar paw
diverse in massacre of tropic forest fertile mists, lives dispersed
and balance tipped from blindness not unlike the sterile statue's, there
                                                          i­n dusty courthouse corner, shadow-lined with infamy...
what imagined cartoon causal Captain Planet              
                            villainy to blare across oneiromantic globe? and (dreaming?) civil strife,                  
       eradication's alter triumph pose to measure blame in inner life?
of empiric meditation's top, in *******
churning out abuse in deeper,
                                                         ­   younger hidden traffics yet to terrorize the net...                                  
                                             the scraping of the sky had punctured through                                
                         ­                                      from metaphor to fact
                                       the sooty barbs
                            in radiance rebound    
and irony affected 'green'
                  folds crisis and solution into one                            we hope
                like what we say we are, becoming change                      in wartime summer fling    
we                                                        
say we can in world of 'me'                                      
in guilt-assuaging verve
                                  the heifer-gift to village fief
    but then to rest against organic pillow-conscience gray                                                             ­       
                                                               soundly snoring smokestacks fill from ground to sky
still for sly investment windfall   fog  billow, shake...                             
transcontinental scape of dream imbued anew:
i am the genie of my ownmost inner lamp
in dreamtime-being spacious constellational of reach distilled
in contemplation's tratak zoom mInute
   with jet black finger trace
    i net                                                              ­                                        from out the inter-earthen air                
                                             ­                                              the lump on lump of coal
                massaging from                                                             ­      as if an ivory atmospheric                  
lift                   of      weight  
                           the sculpture of our past condensed in elephantine ******
                                                 miasmic fossil shower-haze of sporogenic fear,
mneumonic nail-tusk night of carbon-spirit back into its hold -- originary dark,
Dark light from burning black                                                 once again contained                                                      in elemental subterrain                                                       ­                                                       
         ­                                        --now it underlies the ground inside for triple shielding outshine
--outer-- light to cool us breathing once again . , ,    
false convenience in abeyance in a human time!                                
i am right now of inward self my soul supernal carbon imprint copy                             
for accounting every speciesistic mind to open wide enough and quell the "all-too human plagues--                                                                           ­       cheering all penultimates, in beams reflecting ante-truth          
                                                 down halls of mirror-minds that lightly discourse
on the ingress of a centaur saving power
channeling the leylines of inception,
ecstatic dreamworld of apotheosic glee:
parting the eidetic clouds,
commune an avatar intentionality . . .
ensorcelling the foodstuffs of the world to feed a dozen million refugees,
insectile diet pride attends in homes of affluence,
the abstract mass of media, become eupeptic cud of understanding bats and even bees--
for biospheres a Goodall stewardship arrives
(her perfect chimp call too resounds across the earth!)
and dwindled frogs their former ponds (unknown, destroyed without a sound)
return to chirping vibrant green symphonic swooning life
the glacial march of tears to halt . . .
all ecosystems rife withall
the panegyric of marshlands globally reborn  
along with shining waters, algaeic sun alive at play
in double-helix breath of dolphin families' bubble art
a sudden resurrect from ****** harvest cove arise cascading joyous leap
on final absence of the metal herding knock of trapping pods
no longer hacked in waves of pink, mere preparations for a restaurant sink--
they are free to swim the depth of worldheart dreaming unknown dream entire real again
marine apsaras dip in spectra (flicker eyelid) rays, reintroduce the dawn
her fine apparel calling forth transhuman destinies
unsplicing brilliant minds from ****** task of splicing GMOs
recycled randomness accepting death before we die
mycelium in runs of spilling-- all undone --
migrational attuned our resource use
and CSAs to thrive in eco-city scapes
no solopsistic somniac pretends
--the dream imbued in final hue
a momentary lapse, creationary flux--
the bombs defused in flick of wrist
indentured and enslaved, imprisoned innocents, oppressed and even self-deprived released
through selfhood's metaviral claim
ground of each dependent intertwining
whatness will to be
a place in which to hum in tune or out of tune
to heal and in a another dream aside from this perhaps with me partake
in true oneiric panoply of conflict held
--with permeating rigpa geogaze--
colliding ideologies transmuted into trust
in panharmonium of varied vision
and what the ever present boons of real, imagined symbol-real
create awake












.
Miguel Jul 2018
In time we stand still forgetting the memories
That burden the frontier with poison and tragedy
Lest we forget that the deed had been signed
By prospectors and cowboys who’ve long since died
Aiming a loaded shell towards eradication
An idea that precedes psychopathy in terms of petition
Yet ponders so freely to children so willing to point them the barrel and fire such rounds

I urgently take the bounty for the hunting of the buffalo
Using their skulls for declination, a sturdy stronghold
Yet deep in heart I realize that it spawns back to devils
That pay only to spoil their countless fruits of survival
The cause paints our flag a brilliant blue
The blood breeds red and helps assimilate too
From their ponytails, against remorse, I could yank off their heads
And perhaps repay the herd of bison for their dead

We danced mountain songs naked under pale blue moonlight
Imitating their gestures in the style of caricature
The stars glistening, reflecting in pools of gory mucus
The rotting carcasses that attract forest vultures
Which we willingly hunt and devour without hesitance

A rack of scalps hung from the duster, cloth sodden with their fluids
Marking migration patterns on various maps to follow and stalk with
Here we sing to the villages of which we’ve burned down
Hoping that God, in His grace, could forgive such savage hounds
The calls of doves forfeit an olive branch
Which I gleefully wave just as they have
My own Trojan horse stitched together with leather
That wasn’t dried enough, and now radiates a stench that reminds us of their innards

I’ve slaughtered and mangled all over this place
Made worse by their stories of which I desecrate
Publishing such influent texts that examine the earlier beds
Of which they rose, so little prose, such daft fools with stone age tools
Crops yield only ******* food made for the feeding of the poor
Discarding the rest of them as bait or our personal ******

“I weep for the white hand that cared there for me!
To wrap me in blankets and help me to feed
The weak child in infancy cooing so sweet
Not knowing they’d have him killed in his sleep”
Annihilation fits best at the source, this genocide funded by the Master of Greater Deed and Good
The weary dead, the weary live, the weary now stay in places we couldn’t stand to be in

A gift that gives only twice, an upstart arch that cradles this land so warmly, inspiring us to embrace our homes
The promise of freedom which notions an equality we could find only in remembrance of scattered bones
The lawmen there, they never repent, they’ve lived all their lives and they never forget of their deeds, which secretly brings a perverse enjoyment none other recieve
Unless you count rapists and murderous men which tally their targets and hold out the heavy heads of victims in satchels and bags
A shame we now see them as monuments honored so swiftly, decorated with golden plaques
Please leave some flowers in the mass grave I was buried in, somewhere in Arizona, it wouldn’t hurt to sense the illusion of fresh air
A torso of tooth and rib and a dried clump of hair
Look down on your works, ye lowly, and despair!
Diya Sep 2017
I am in the midst of a puzzling maze
That is really driving me to craze.
I never behaved so mad before
I am really depressed therefore.
I was a seeker of happiness
But now all I love is sadness.
Once , I used to accept failure easily
Today, Why I need perfection,so crazily?
Used to smile without a sound reason,
But all this have transformed to a mournful season.
Birds made me feel enchanted a moment ago
Here,at this moment I just know to keep to my ego!
Why my heart undergone such a misleading surgery ?
When it didn't had any injury.
I am ashamed of my bones,my brain,my mind,my heart,my soul
That are leading to the eradication of my system!
Suddenly, one day u find urself different than yesterday...different than the common philosophy u had the previous day and when u retaliate thoughts circles in the mind which are countless
Mystic Ink Plus Jul 2018
One of the leader
Once planned
Poverty eradication

How?
Someone interrupted

**** the Poor
That simple

[Silence]

Breaking the silence
He said
Raise your hands

No one did
No one did
No one did
No one did
Genre: Observational
Theme: Advocate Of Truth
Dons-Social Work-Politicians-Crime || Frequently they Shuffle
Hope E Feb 2017
Remember she is human like you
Bleeds from open wounds
Cries into the night for mercy
Poops up a storm when she's nervous
Prays to the same ancestors on this continent called turtle island/atzlan
Remember she is woman, like you
Nothing less, nothing more
In the past, I've often idolized the women who inspire me. Worshipped at their work like gods when I should've saught communion with them. I am just as powerful and just as worthy.
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2010
Gunboats ahoy there’s pirates about
Speeding from Somali’s shore,
A fast flimsy boat and some black skinny men
With grenade launchers, cannon and more.
They’re coming to capture the tankers
They’re coming to capture the crew
They’re coming to take you hostage
Because fat cats will pay cash for you.

It’s happening more every day now
Ships are held to ransom for gold,
This contagion is out of hand now
The Somalian pirates are becoming so bold.
Hard men in the west prepare crackdowns
Gunboats sail for the Gulf as we speak,
With instructions to shoot to **** now
And make eradication of pirates complete!

But you ask, why is this happening?
Why does a man, a pirate become?
What instigates this crazy morphosis
From fisherman to pirate with gun?
Somalia has no Government to speak of,
It collapsed and went long ago.
No law or army in place here,
Life is dangerous, chaotic and low.

Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They ditched toxic waste in the sea
They irradiated the coastline region
Making this a poisoned place to be.
The coast folk were dying in thousands
Sick mothers lost babies and kids
Black illness spread madly in villages
Then blind panic and pain hit the skids.

Some fat cats made use of the vacuum
They trawled the coastline clean
Somalia’s fishermen were destitute
The catch went from vast to lean.
The villagers were starving and hopeless
And what was pain became death.
The leaders appealed for salvation
But those with the means, had turned deaf.

Who would take this problem on now?
Who would make these ******* pay?
Most turned around and shunned them,
The world had turned and looked away.
So hit transgressors where they’re vulnerable.
Strike in sea lanes where it’s free.
Hit them near the Horn of Africa.
Attack with blades of piracy.

Hooray for the small man’s justice.
Hooray for his skinny, black shanks,
Please God help their quest for deliverance
For the West has arrived with their tanks.

Now I ask you, in all fairness
To stand back and view the scene,
Where the richest and most powerful
are doing something that's obscene
For not only are they poisoning
The most vulnerable race on earth
But compounding it with genocide,
And I add, for what it's worth,

The West, in righteous arrogance,
are crushing poorest fellow man
In his struggle for survival
Against their mammoth, global hand.


Marshalg
@theGate
Mangere Bridge
25 April 2009
Negra Nov 2015
When I was little, I thought barbie was one of the most beautiful humans I've ever seen.
I knew it because the world agreed with her and not me.
So I tried to scrub the dirt off my skin, in hopes that I'd get closer to white purity.
But I'd only turn red like the devil that they said I am
With a sponge soaked in blood trying to wash away my blackness.
The sponge rejected me too.

When I was little, I thought that barbie was one of the most beautiful humans I've ever seen.
Therefore, I burned my hair with chemicals to eradicate my curls.
So I'd be like white blond barbie. You could call me milk and honey. But the chemicals turned my honey into ashes.
Straight but dead.
The perms rejected me too.

When I was little, I thought that barbie was one of the most beautiful humans I've ever seen.
So I figured I should get a ken. A nice white man. Or maybe just a man.
But mommy was single too, so maybe I'm just too black to be loved.
Until, I was 17 and hadn't had my first kiss.
But when my time finally came,
I was just fulfilling his fantasy of a jungle fever, concubine, black object.
So still he rejected me too

When I was little I thought that barbie was one of the most beautiful humans I've ever seen.
So I pledged allegiance to the United States of white America
And to the republic, for which it stands on my body
One nation for eradication of my skin
Under god, a barbie
Indivisible stop making me invisible
With no liberity and justice for barbie

Barbie. A ******* plastic doll.
She's not even the most beautiful human I've ever seen.
She's not even human
And they done ****** up when they wrote those love poems for her.
Can't you see my almond eyes speaking,
While my chocolate strawberry dipped lips are closed.
Don't pretend you love me,
Because caressing my face with a knife
Is no kiss to brown velvet skin.
And I know my curls are too complex for you,
Cuz they're tangled in years of wisdom.
But the wisdom doesn't really lie there.
My beauty doesn't really lie there.
It's my passion, and vulnerability.
My mind and it's ability.
Oh my goodness I know whose one of the most beautiful humans I have ever seen.
It's me.
And I'm the most important person in my life
So before I can deeply love anyone esle,
I must fall in love with myself.
So here's the love poem they never wrote for me.

Oh my gooooooooodnesss. You emulate literal waves of chocolate.
So sweet that your tummy has rolls just to touch your body.
And your smile illuminates your dark skin into a radiance of self sun kissed beauty.
But really, your eyes are smiling and I'm not sure how you can speak so many languages with them.
Please touch me again you have the softest skin. Firm long hug.
But you're actually holding me with your mystifying soul. Vulnerable soul.
You feel everything.
So hot that when the sun kisses your skin, the sun is burning.
So cold that you saved the polar bears with your ice bergs like the mother nature you are.
And your mind is beautiful with all the neural connections becoming fruitful with berries the world never knew existed and have yet created words for.
My god, I love you
Shane Hunt Sep 2012
I sold smack on a playground today

    biding time to scrounge the rent--

Two months ago I had never even seen the stuff.
    I'd never procured it for personal use,
    let alone sold it.

Now I'm a full-time pusher of prescriptions
for problems that can't be cured,
a modern-day snake-oil salesmen
schlepping panaceas for every conceivable ill.

Trying to cope with depression?
    This'll give you a shot in the arm!
Your boyfriend just broke your heart
mere weeks after breaking your *****?
    Here's a ***** that you can depend on
...

I thought I was better than this,

but who can afford scruples
                      with bills to pay?

Internally
I struggle to compete
with people who would never deign to take note of me.
My revenge is in undermining their immaculate lives,
a pill-peddling Socrates
keeping creditors at bay.

I'd always envisioned being someone's hero--
at least being remembered for an act of creation.

Instead I'm an enzyme for eradication.
A cancer cell at best--
    A ****** wrecking ball.

                 One day I woke up a sidekick
to a heroine that's never saved anyone...
Mercie B Jun 2013
Confined to this asylum bound by massive chains
restricting me to my own mis- guided  perception,  oh how I long to break free.

   In the distance there lies a sea of disconsolate faces washing ashore  so I keep watch to see if I can find me.

   There is this hollowness inside me, it's presence so utterly dominating, like a raging river it runs wild.

The idea of feeling completely numb is ever so enchanting,  an escape from all the dishevelment that thru the years I have compiled.

The air around me has  becime so stifiling, it is  slowly crushing my lungs, under its magnitude I will be forced to give in before too long.

Willing my breath to please slow so I can calm myself before the storm, I focus on my hearts rythmic sound, such melancholy song..
Lydia Ann May 2013
We created a world of false accusation
Love soon became only partial remission
You took my freewill, as well as my vision
In return I gave my utmost provision
Of hasty provocation
And less than mindful incision
Into your every thought, and each passing decision
I often sat down, but for once I had risen
Asked, "Why are we crawling on the floors of this prison?"

Could not stand one more night under your supervision
There was no longer room for revise and revision
And life doesn't offer any hefty commission
For complying to someone - always asking permission

Our twisted sheets became more like a distasteful collision
Fingers tense as they ached for division
While nails dug deep with careful precision
Yes, sometimes we held hands
And sometimes we held our tongues
Gone quiet with desperate premonition
Nathaniel Munson Jan 2013
Casually caressing
the comedy of life
A child knows not
tragedy’s strife.
There is always another dream
toy        or friend
for their fetal-esteem.
They spell their grammar
with candy and curiosity
while maintaining a history
in smile and laughter.
The heroism of Joe
        the G.I.
and the beauty of a Barbie
are created impulsively and
fueled by imagination and apple juice.

A bike is not
a means of transportation
but rather
meant to be raced and jumped.
******-Doo
and the ****** Tunes should
rule Saturday mornings
from their throne in the tube.
Monkey bars and playgrounds,
are not merely a facility
to upkeep physical activity.
Instead
it is a kingdom of escape
engineered by make-believe
funded by risk-taking
and motivated by the
eradication of the cootie-plagued
and ****** pickers.

Where did time go,
when these bones grew old
this brain grew dull
and these hands lost their callus?

The world is cruel
for the elder mind.
Yet, for our youthful kin,
Society does not exist
in coloring books
and world peace is only found
in imagination and apple juice.
Marshal Gebbie Jan 2014
For Andrew and his incredible courage.*

Incredible the courage found to face the wrath of cancer,
Face the force, insidious, which eats the inside, out.
Face the trial erosion of eradication’s willpower,
Face the wall of silence in the primal need to shout.

Incredible the courage found to struggle on regardless
Keeping up appearance when exhaustion shouts...Let Go!
Hiding pain’s contortion in a parody of camouflage,
Cloaking blood, red suffering which really, now, must show.

Incredible the courage worn in lifting head from pillow
In struggling ***** again to meet a rising sun,
Smiling in the face of a diminishing tomorrow
Knowing that the enemy with-in's  darkest game's begun.

Incredible the courage shown to meet the gaze of friendship
Knowing well the condemnation locked within that look,
Irrespective of the depth of friendship’s comprehension
They all don’t understand the pain to life’s unfinished book.

Incredible the courage there in fighting for tomorrow
Marshaling the forces to drive this Devil out,
Clawing back a toehold in the face of grey oblivion
Winning back small victory with brave and primal shout!

Marshalg
Pukehana
10 January 2014
EgoFeeder May 2013
Oh , How nostalgic this murderous intent has become
Playing out unfulfilled fantasies like a king without kingdom
And to only one holder of this self improvised widow-ship;
Do I dream so awfully of severing that taunting relationship

One that now merely dwells inside of a notebook;
Even when i'm drenched in pity it's where I still look
For on that desperate day I wrote with a ravenous flood;
and, that parchment now has our names signed in blood!

To her it was a simple act of departure and endless possibility
Little did she know it was the introduction to our romantic tragedy!
All she had left me with was my sin clenched within my fist;
A hand stained in red engraving her name into a cryptic blacklist

Written by a prime-time director and an aspiring eulogist;
The magicians signature was left on the dark Ink I kissed!
For something can only be a phenomenon if it's unintentional!
Pieced together with the weakest resistance and somebody emotional!

Just as those determined nights of worship and spell casting;
Have left little sign of result - or a sentiment worth celebrating
The truth behind witchery is that of instantaneous karma!
Like an inaudible whisper sent out into the absurdis firma!

In that moment I had surely witnessed the death of true love;
Begging to the highest for our connection to exist above
I whined and leaked pathetically to take myself somewhere;
Alas it all proved useless as I was left choking on despair

Begotten by Venus - with Bacchus alone;
Trembling in confusion as I listen to her moan
Fading into frailty - trying to cease the taunt of a *****;
Striving for the affection of someone I don't know anymore..

I'll be adhering a promise when i'm turning her into a cadaver
She made me believe that we wouldn't change and I'd always have her
There's no better way to be together than to rot into the soil;
Eternally decaying with no sign of thought or a waking toil

To this day I still gander at what we've all become;
And, I cannot fathom the hideous intentions we all circum
Drowning in vanity and convenience as the living dead;
I pray that every morsel of humanity meet its sudden death bed

And, since I have no way of bringing a catastrophic doomsday;
I must inaugurate the butchery of the one who made me this way
The girl who gave me benevolence then turned it to stone;
The purest smile that taught me to love and left me on my own

I do suppose it's too late to re-kindle our love anew;
or remove all the vices that I always ignored as true
But who says I can't repent for our selfish aspirations;
By guiding us both into a cessation of fettering desperation!

Now all that is left is the means of execution;
What shall be the guide to our savage eradication?
I'll drain our lives through every tedious incision!
A slow and painful mutilation is my final decision!
Rachel Cloud Jul 2013
Sometimes,
an ounce just isn't enough.
Then,
whatever was needing of prevention only spreads faster,
immunized by the pitiful attempts of eradication.
But at this point, a cure comes far too late.
Hollow May 2014
Subject of forced indoctrination
Given a placebo of hope
And made to look at society
Through artificial eyes

Just another disfigured mind
Molded through the
Systematic eradication
Of constitutional freedoms

Walking with a knife in your spine
And shackles on your head
And the force-fed propaganda
Giving a false notion
Of a peaceful reality

Is this what you want?

Step away from the wires of captivity
The Automated Deity of our future

Be one with yourself

Be reborn

Not recreated
Mateuš Conrad Jul 2016
you can ******* a man with accusations of insanity and destroy him instantly, or over a few years... but that only shows the collective approach is insane and, including the man in question the prefix added to the collective: self-destructive... it's no good implying a man faked a coherent use of language, when the western model attached paranoiac iconoclasm of certain pronoun and noun usage - one man had more coherence in language than a million reduced to Emoticons - but no one minded that affair - they simply accepted it - it was once making the populace literate then the unmaking of literacy with technological advances - as ever the lax aristocracy - we don't philosophise in western society, we simply imply logistics of psychology - a Chinese model for the eradication of the unit of indestructibility - a soul, but what happens in China is a success story, the number in question are too man, our experiment is a failure in this eradication of the unit of indestructibility is a failure, excess individuation processes with too few example of coherence and grey matter - the family model is primarily the one source we have no coherent grey matter populace - with its failure no person will strive to wear the mask of father, grandfather, uncle... there's no investment in society of a family, western hands said: freedom to clone, freedoms for L.G.B.T. communities to flourish - surrogacy prostitution... care homes and tattoos of ***** bed-wetting on the skin - individuation's aggressiveness and objectivity's passiveness reduced to a criticism of a book rather than a project of collective cohesion... Communism came across the greatest antisemitism known to man - capitalistic zenith of the holocaust - now slang in populist propaganda - V for Vendetta realism i approach - i don't think i want to go to a pub these days, whether with Scot, Irishman or Anglo - i don't think watching rats scuttle is much fun over a pint of beer... schizophrenia of the collective, from theorem and other additives you can see the reverse chirality - some way or another you become involved - globalisation did that, you want to be un-involved and yet you become involved - you want the village life but are forced into an abstract urbanity - you have the urban life but are discouraged from an abstract village-life although in deepest desire, you wish for it... the day when two speakers of the same tongue undermine each other's speech - by way of constructing the perfect Ypres' replicas of entrenching validations to stand opposite each other on the basis of argument per se, and so the argument comes... how then contend between masochism on one side and sadism on the other, when the former traps himself in a panic room and does it to himself, and the latter is kept repeating a knock-knock joke with no answer?*

England has become a place where
i don't want to socialise -
i wouldn't want to be in a pub
full of Irish or English -
i've become marginalised as a user
of the tongue - i'm a user
but hardly the attaché - the "where you from"
question is always asked, i'm here,
but where from seems to matter more -
it's not fun anymore - London is
slightly confused at it all,
they said the European Union experiment
is a failure akin to the Communist Plot -
but of course both were pre-readied failures,
the former was tackled by puppetry of the
American president, the latter by the Pope -
both were ****** - the populist assertion
of the dream of Nebuchadnezzar -
if history is hardly a hindsight, it certainly
is a way of sleepwalking -
the failure from places not formerly conquered -
the anger of north africa and the elsewhere
encompassing the Mediterranean -
invigorating a force of conquerors by the once conquered
by goose-pimple buttocks of the Romans not
heading north on the continent (islands are insulators
of the cold) - hence the once former conquered
trying to scold and try out their post-colonial
authority - white v. white won't work -
Scandinavians and the Baltic States weren't
ready for ***** Gaul or ***** Britannia setting
orders - the Roman didn't go that far -
the failure was imminent from a single dream -
history is nothing about hindsight -
the hindsight default is nothing but the wrong
of the waking hour for many a man,
to take a dream as a vector for forward only sent
as backward - never make history from the interpretation
of a resting body - from a dream -
to make history from a dream is to give more men
unrest in the waking hour - to make history from
dreams is to make history without hindsight
but with sleepwalking, and few men are given
the anti-psyche drugs for a sober approach,
they say: but i didn't drink... but their intoxication
came from dreams... a drunk man will stumble and fall,
but a man intoxicated by dreams will make more
horrors outside the realm of cinema than is already
there with an eager audience - indeed, a cinema with
an un-eager audience - residues of symbolism,
the quote: for king and country and such baffling e.g. plural.
Ukraine was almost ready to join... you could say
Russia and Britain pulled the project apart...
i just don't think you'll like this aggravated German
with the expulsion of Jews from Poland -
the Visegrad Group - partly because this is the undercurrent -
so when will the channel tunnel become a plot-line
for Guy Fawkes? it's already rearranging itself -
a new chapter - a new nothing - it never worked in
the first place because there was no respect for the diversity,
we shared a single phonetic encoding, sure, some of us
used diacritical stresses, one particular didn't -
but it was anti-representing the diversity, this was
supposed to be an European Union -
not the Post-Colonial-Pseudo-African Union -
the great colonial states ruined it, that's why the greatest
of them has left - the European Union should have
excluded Britain, France and the Iberian peninsula -
it was intended as the revival of the Holy Roman Empire,
but including post-colonial states invoked the realisation
of their colonial past, thereby necessitating an integration
of their past colonial subjects into Europe -
Britain left because they heard the news... Turkey is going
to join... well... never mind Rotherham, eh?
Lamb Jul 2014
I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys
Goodbyes are an end, a final, a limit
Goodbyes are terminus
An eradication
I believe there is no proper end

We are cemented within a cycle
A continuum
A never-ending relationship with the world
A flowing river out of your control
Goodbyes imply permanence
A life that never changes
A dormancy  

But Reality has it
You cannot fully control your goodbyes
A person can reenter your life and leave
Over and over and over
Then maybe goodbyes don’t even exist
People can exist in our memories
A perpetual reminder
A video stuck on replay
A beautiful hazy dream
I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys

If people continue to touch our lives
Leaving a lasting impact
A reason why
Then maybe goodbyes don’t even really exist
Because there is no such thing as a goodbye
Because there is no end to relationships
Because there is no end to memories
Because there is no end to love
Because there is no end to the feeling you have

We are cemented within a cycle
A continuum
And this is why I don’t believe in goodbyes
I believe in hellos, smiles, and questioning whys

Let’s embrace the idea
Yet see its amusing foolishness
Because maybe goodbyes don’t even exist
Damaré M Aug 2013
I think we're going extinct
I hate to even blink 
...
I remember when we were in sync 
But things changed 
We will act strange over change 
Being caged and attached by chains is voguish 

Are we hopeless? 
Why can we polish our pinky rings 
But leave rust on our linkage chains? 
Our words don't bond anymore 
Our words are shackles 
Our words are like crooked spurs 
And unbalanced saddles 
Yeah It travels 
But lies are to be told 
Only to smear what we really withhold 

I think that we're going extinct 
I hate to blink 
As my eye lids flicker 
More and more existence spills from our mankind 
Man-kind 
We're turning into the kind of men 
Who emotionally melts when we see celebrities 
Where's our rectitude? 

I think we're going extinct 
I hate to blink
Where's my natural woman?
Every time I twitch 
More and more she accepts the word ***** 
And in no time a guy can become exposed to her hips 
Where's our morality? 

Are we going to expire 
All because we create our entire empire with desires? 
Desires and thirst that require us to hurt 
We smile and we smirk 
We loath from good work 
We poke at nerves
We drown our minds to swerve 
We absorb potion 
Only to tranquil our motion 
We indulge in copulation 
With a stranger 
But somehow for consolation 
...
We are endangered 
We are a few more trends away from complete annihilation 
Eradication 
Liquidation 
Obliteration 
Cancellatio­n 
Our tendencies are cancerous and if we keep being patient 
We will need medication 
I don't feel any radiation 
To not become subject to our decimation

I think we're going extinct 
My instincts tell me that
Though we're a percentage and a contributor to this nation 
We are approaching ruination 
My instinct senses that I am one of the few who mentions devastation 
And if I blink one more time 
And if we keep wasting time 
We'll be wastage 
We 
You and I 
We'll be ejected from the race 
And they'll use a prosthetic ethnic affiliation for our replacement 
Can we come together with cooperation 
Resisting this operation 
May we all stand up 
Before they go through with this amputation ! 

Blink
Lets see
Charlie Chirico Aug 2015
The 20th century a new philosophy was introduced: Existentialism.

Existentialism is pertaining to human existence, and finding our ideal self, along with the meaning of life through free will. This German philosophy must have been confusing, because not long after the beginning of the next century, free will showed us that eradication and apathy can be achieved by "following orders" and not questioning the ideals of your country's ideology.

The idea of this philosophy is that humans are searching for who they are and what they will become by the choices they make based on their experiences without the complications of laws, traditions, or ethnic rules. Now, the ivory and ebony pieces that lay atop the granite chess board are one of a handful of acceptable, yet objective black and white cohabitations that can't function one without the other.

Strategically sound is the sycophant. Then in reference to people, how easy is it to spot a Parasite when trying your hardest not to be stereotypical? That is why it's easier to hate a person because the color of their skin rather than their theology and ancestry.

This idea of free will is sometimes misconstrued as a hindering factor in reference to the education system. Our foundation is put in place at an early age; this is our fundamental axis, and this reasoning is acceptable because
of our commitment and trust in conditioning ourselves.

And when you need to teach youth about hate and pass it off as love, you must regulate the educational systems, and propaganda needs to be subtle yet exposed in mass media and entertainment, along with chalkboards and textbooks.

Considering the learning differential, people who use a different side of their brain than a peer have a chance of excelling in their studies of specific subjects; however, this does not apply in all cases. See science and language as objective, and abhorrence as once subjective with an edit and an asterisk.

One factor is assumptions made regarding social structure. And this is what happens when something is driven by an economic imperative. But statistics are heavily confusing and easily manipulated when some groups of people are thrown figuratively and literally into ghettos.

This has made people a taxable commodity, but not one for a universal vantage. The reason for that has to do with the socioeconomic status of certain communities. Then again, when a country is at war with itself, being drafted will provide an individual with the necessary rations, and when you're wearing a uniform, bank statements do not matter.

From this point on we can put people into two classes: academic and non-academic.

None of which matters when you're staring at the barrel of a gun: automatic or semi-automatic.
Free verse poems aren't always enjoyed, and in some cases respected, but it is my favorite way to structure, or not structure my poems. Although there isn't a rhyme scheme there is close attention given to meter and my overall voice. I know that this poem in particular is a long read, as are some of my others, but I believe that many topics deserve length and cannot be expressed well enough in one or two sentences.

Thanks for reading.
- Charlie
Marieta Maglas Aug 2015
There are spiritual healers getting in touch with those spirits
To ask them why they are present, ' said Erica. „Usually,
When you call them, they come to tell you some secrets.
Some sad lovers that passed away can't leave this world peacefully.''



„They can be demons, too, ' said Maya. „We must talk with the priest, '
Said Geraldine. „Let’s search in the storage room, ' she continued,
„We’ll find something, and we'll face this truth together, at least.''
''I hear the steps of someone walking away from this window, ''



Said Carla.'' Maybe it's the rain tapping on the sill, ''
Replied Geraldine. Surak opened the window and said,
'It doesn't rain; in the soft wind, I hear only the birds' trill.''
''But I've found some books in a big box for safe keeping instead.''



(Maya and Erica went to buy fresh fish from one of the many fisheries existent in that village.)




Fargo entered the Spianada, the largest square
In the Balkans, which was created by the Venetians.
The sound of the sea waves was like a stir in the air.
The peaks of the Old Fortress looked like swords of the Titans.



He passed the lighthouse tower and entered the underground
Tunnels that linked the Fortress with the main parts of the town.
Then, he entered the New Fortress, and when he looked around,
He saw the gates, the sea shore, and the land that sloped down.



(The port has been an important naval base since the Roman period. Considerably, Corfu was called the Gibraltar of the Adriatic. He bought a galley.)



The Ionian Islands belonged to the Republic
Of Venice; they were slowly conquered, one by one, in time.
Corfu voluntarily became a colony; its public
Gardens made the Islands' governor reside on that sublime




Territory; its economy was based on exporting
Raisins, olive oil and wine, whereas the Venetian lira
Was the currency of the islands; while incorporating
The culture of Venice, these people used a plethora



Of Italian words, because this language was official.
Venice had garrison soldiers, scattered in island forts
With muskets and bayonets made of the iron material.
The impromptu recruits and mercenaries were hired in the ports.



(Fargo started to talk with the infantry captain and with the lowborn ship’s captain.)



'' It's hard to eradicate the piracy from the world.''
''Because of money, the soldiers are recruited as needed.'
''Only with the convoy protection, the sail with the ships is furled.
When it is no longer required, their claims are unheeded.''



''The Muslim pirates attack the Christian ships to enslave.''
''I've heard there are Jewish pirates, too, '' ''Because of Inquisition, ''
''The corsairs are dangerous, '' '' Our ships hardly can face on this wave.''
The Christian navies are weak; don't have enough ammunition.''



''The Muslim opponents are fast; you need a large convoy.
You will be convoyed by us until you enter Italy-
After fighting the pirates.'' ''On our ship, there is an envoy.''
''To let you sail, they wanted some protection money.''



''Europe pays its duty to protect its own action,
But accepts the growth of piracy in Indian waters.''
''The piracy is bad in theory, but usefully practiced-
A cheap way to expand their economic and naval powers.''



''The governments don't want to eradicate the piracy.''
''The anti-pirate campaigns are only documents.''
''These pirates mean business behind the wall of privacy.
In bars and brothels for crews, the money means strong arguments.''



''This eradication needs a revision to the law.''
'' Only in the Spanish colonies, they are executed, ''
''Spain has a court of officers, '' '' This is a Britain law, new.''
''In return for the pardon, these pirates are persuaded.''



(The captain gave Fargo two galliots, each one having 80 oarsmen and 60 soldiers.)

(To be continued...)

Poem by Marieta Maglas
Did you know that slaves who fought their way to freedom escaped white liberty?
They make liberty and justice for all a relevant and possible concept
Are you aware that escaped black women were the first to conceive freedom in America?
Did you know that the eradication of white supremacy will be brutal and violent?
Did you know that after being brutalized the only way to demand respect is to be even more brutal in return?
Did you know that after what white America has allowed and done to dark skinned humans it is surprising any white Americans are still alive and not buried by vengeance?
Take a look its in a book
Its reading rainbow
Specious speculative salacious spectral season
Transmogrify trapezium traverse torsion treason
Erotica errantry erectile endogenic emblazon
Ghastly gnashy grotesque gristly garrison
Larcenous lecherous lascivious latent lesson
Entelechy ethology exsistentialize extant epsilons

Spurious spry squabble subtle specialization
Transient transitive tour de force teleportation
Encephala enunciate endeavor executant emulation
Garish gaudy gambit glitch granulation
Lurid livid liaison limpid laceration
Extravaganza expletives expeditious equilibration emendation

Sly stodgy surreptitious spatiotemporal solicitor
Taciturn tactile transcendent tertiary torpor
Euphoria eminent equivocal exserted emancipator
Garrulous gustatory gung ** gestational gesticulator
Lyricism lilt liberation lambaste levitator
Escutcheon exergonic epaulet exodus extrapolator

Starkness staunch spectacle stolid stultification
Telepathy tantamount tractive tellurian transmutation
Exonerate euthenics exegesis entourage eradication
Groaty gnarly gruesome gristly gastrulation
Licentious lewd lacunar laconic limitation
Extemporaneous exigency embark embargo extradition

Slinky slick sultry stoical snout
Transubstantiate torturous temerarious tumultuous tout
Eucharist extortion enmity epithet eke out
Gross grit groin grove grout
Lentic leister lotic lothario levity lout
Execrating eventuation evocative evitable excerpt bout
What's to opaque opulence tell you.  We can't all be translucent.
Elizabeth Ann Apr 2013
10 Years of Discretion
9 Months of Persecution
8 Semesters of Imitation
7 Weeks of Affliction
6 Days of Temptation
5 Hours of drug Consumption
4 Minutes of thought Malfunction
3 Moments of Desperation
2 Seconds until Eradication
1 Life of Lacrimation
What is at the root of our societal ills?
is it religion? with it's antiquated dogma and decrees
packaged neatly in the form of a pill
militant atheists call for it's eradication, but that
*would only cure a symptom, and not the disease
This poem was inspired by long held beliefs that religion is not the disease, but merely a symptom of a greater problem; human suffering.  Also partially from the article below.

All people operate from the same two motivations: to fulfill their desires and to escape their suffering.

Learning this allowed me to finally make sense of how people can hurt each other so badly. The best explanation I had before this was that some people are just bad. What a cop-out. No matter what kind of behavior other people exhibit, they are acting in the most effective way they are capable of (at that moment) to fulfill a desire or to relieve their suffering. These are motives we can all understand; we only vary in method, and the methods each of us has at our disposal depend on our upbringing and our experiences in life, as well as our state of consciousness. Some methods are skillful and helpful to others, others are unskillful and destructive, and almost all destructive behavior is unconscious. So there is no good and evil, only smart and dumb (or wise and foolish.) Understanding this completely shook my long-held notions of morality and justice.

I encourage you to read the full article here: http://www.raptitude.com/2010/10/9-mind-bending-epiphanies-that-turned-my-world-upside-down/
Jason Chae Feb 2016
We were states of matter
until we had chemistry
a pure of mix elements causing eradication
and more like atomic radiation
we were powerful
an affective pair

then biology taught me
to value every heart beat of yours
every tissue to cells
every cytoplasm to mitochondria

and that Czechoslovakia
that you were from
had a capital named Prague
during world history
but nothing interesting than your story
during our midnight phone call

then mathematics taught me to calculate the distance between us
and physics showed me our chance of collision in every single velocity

I have used all kinds of formulas I learnt to solve our problem

but dear

I got the answer of
good bye

Good bye,
High School.
im graduating lol
Sadie S Oct 2015
I looked for a word to say.
   but I could not find one today.
I had hoped to find a word that would stay in your heart.
   That would show you exactly what tore us apart.

I hate what you did... I hate you so deeply.
I hate what you said... I hate you so passionately.
I hate what you made me... I hate you so sweetly.

I look at you and I cannot tell what is in your eyes.
   I speak directly to you but all that comes out of your mouth are lies.

I see how you hurt.
I see how you hurt me.
I just do not understand.

All your true feelings are kept and safely hidden in a far far away land.
   Is this a land we call love?
And now it is a destruction.
   A land God has made from above.
And now we call it seduction.

Its true in a way we both long for each other.
  But we both see to long for another.
Another human being we both thought we were
   But now it seems that this human being I thought you were is now a blur.

This is a bitter sweet heart
   That will end in eradication.
This is a bitter sweet part that needs some construction.

Why I hold on?
I do not know.
I probably will never know why.

I should move forward... Yes
But I feel like I would rather just die.

You caused obliteration deep into my heart.
You caused obliteration because you thought it was smart.

I hate what you did... I hate you so deeply
I hate what you said... I hate you so passionately.
**I hate what you made me... I hate you so sweetly
10/14/2015
you are my casualty, your eradication
my sojourn in your country
has brought about my descent

falling from your smothering embrace
your pallet of a thousand stakes
my surface dies underneath your taste

this com-mixture was difficult to fathom
but I will believe in you now, now that its over
now that its ******

© 2011 joshua deathdealer
jeffrey conyers Aug 2018
Chicago, what's going on?
Killing after killing like it's just a game of darts.
In fear of gangs claiming territory they simply don't own.

And if the government takes a gang eradication approach to deal with it.
Then we would make it a racial attack.
Mainly because the Chicago raging coming mostly from gangs that's black.

Then you hear these ministers crying foul to the news.
But ask yourself?
What?
Are the ministers trying to do in your neighborhoods?

Like many, they preach sermons in church on Sunday talking about storm warnings.
But not true activists like the old guards during segregation.

Take on these gangs like Jesus took on his distractors.
Be brave, be strong, what do you have to lose?
Except for your life.

Sometimes, it's a challenge you have to pay.

Through stupidity, we go for locking these gang members up.
When just maybe they deserve the chair?
Once fear is placed in many.
Then many gang members comprehend the consequences.

Can't always blame the police force, or the mayor for the stupidity of a few.

Young youth thinking in a gang they must show their loyalty.
Forget what color your gang claims?
At the end of the day to them, your blood of death means not a thing.
storm siren Aug 2016
Don't worry about it,
It doesn't matter.

How do I fit?
Where I go from here?

I struggle with this
Belonging
In the same way
I struggle with feeling
Wanted,
And if I'm not even a person,
Then I'm guess I'm just a problem.

And problems require solutions
Or to be eradicated from the equation
Upon not finding a solution.

And after years,
Up until May 18th, 2016
When I figured out that I'm not that bad,
I had been contemplating
Eradication.

But on May 18th,
I realized it wasn't quite
Eradication that I needed,
Rather a solution.

And in your arms,
On July 4th,
I realized that neither
Eradication
Nor a solution would help me,
For I am a solution,
Not a problem.

I am not used to walking
On steady ground,
But I could get used
To walking beside
You.

Forgive me
For my slip ups,
For my faltering,
I am painfully aware
That being mentally ill is a struggle,
But I will persevere,
If not for myself,
Then for you and here and now.

Some days I fight the fight
For myself,
And others I can only bring myself to get out of bed
For you and what pride you could fathom having in me.

Other days I cannot wait
To leap from the blankets
And start my day.

But each and every day,
I get up.

Whether it be out of excitement,
Or a desire to be better.

Forget it.
I have a lot to say,
But not a lot of it can be said
For sure.
My head isn't a great place to be, today. Tomorrow has to be better than these last few days. I mean, to be honest I'm kind of struggling to keep my head up as high as it was. I need something to pick me up. I'll be just fine, it's just hard to do on my own sometimes.
A two two tier system of health is established
now you are asked private or NHS.
This could determine who lives or dies
relying on those with funds.
The quality of treatment depends on paying
if none your only hope is praying!

NHS patients it's a lucky dip for treatment
private no expense spared.
No matter how dedicated the doctors maybe
money is the pass code.
Pay avoid the endless hours on a waiting trolley
instant service if flash the lolly!

No more the fare care for all who enter within
moral has long been exhausted.
By the excessive dabbling of many governments
where no parliamentarian is poor.
And had no knowledge of the staffs dedication
now wanting their eradication!

With an amazing crew who were not listened to
or giving them back up or respect!
The health service now in the United kingdom
is doomed to be for the rich!
The rest of us will wait forever for care
that no longer can be there!

Once the worlds flagship for health care
now the example to be aware!

The Foureyed Poet.
The National Health Service used to be a great place for treatment and a good employer. But No More! The Foureyed Poet.
Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
Check your pulse to assure yourself that you are indeed alive and be ready
I’m willing to sell addiction
If the price is right
Instead of crawling on my hands and knees
Searching for a miniscule income

Love is an empty word
That allows me to rip your insides
And still have you apologize for getting my hand *****
I’ll keep every apology locked away
And stick you on the bull’s-eye

Running from laughable low level law enforcers
Dressed in blue with loaded guns and meaningless badges
Cackling the whole way through

Smiling at all my adversaries
Knowing the annihilation of us both is soon to come

As the maniacal militia stand trespassing in our yard waiting to open fire
The ravaged highways are under construction
Demolishing the concept of one’s self to rebuild in the image of a complete stranger
Unleashing accusations upon unsuspecting stargazers
Underneath the cold thick skin, holding back scorn, plans of vengeance, violent bouts with sadness and ethical turmoil
Putting on a mask of struggling smiles, lung crushing phony laughter
And the tight gripping of tears, the strenuous task that is always present
Putting this act because society tells us to shut up, get over it, move on and forget about it
With no one taking the time to sit down and help someone who is knocking on their impending doom’s door
By going over everything calmly piece by piece
Until it’s too late and there’s dead bodies on the floor of a movie theater riddles with bullets and people choking on some kind of poison gas
The misleading of corporate heads and politicians overshadowed by the distractions of “disasters”
So we can’t see the real big picture
Their whole careers can be light up in flames faster than the forged paper work they put in

Meanwhile the poverty stricken orphaned children look to the neon sky praying to a god who’s existence is debated denounced right before their eyes as if it was a fairytale fable with out a moral
And the troubled youths, the kids being pumped with prescriptions
Hoping someday something will rescue them for the madness within themselves

Request for atonement
Is eradication of an opponent really a triumph?
To expire in a collision
Young and drunk
Cutting deep like a spiteful stab wound
While wearing a three piece suite
Choosing suffering over nothingness
But to fight for the privilege we had in front of us
Disregarding the cost to get there
Detonate the entire thing
And view this vignette from your fallout shelter crossing your fingers that you’ll still be here when all is unspoken and still undone

— The End —