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"forcefed" poems
floating heartbrain silly cilia stickin' out in all directions antennae with fingertips extrapolating the surrounding situation form dictated by the circumstance of inward pressure in correlation to outward pressure in conjunction with the trajectory and spin of itself and all others surrounding indescribable without it's surroundings lest it be left lacking; it is the result of touch the ethics of touch it is the reception of signals from all directions; a hodgepodge of waveforms a hot tangled spaghetti dinner forever forcefed to the happysad hungerstriker grateful forever hateful love is all we need love is all we are grateful for hatred pain gives way to bliss sensitive cilia feel me feel you feel all
0
Oct 19, 2015
Oct 19, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
heartbrain
This prison with no walls The mind is even too hot for thought to linger upon Creativity vanishes when the contents of the dustbin are emptied Hunger, lie and poverty The everlasting diet of this wall-less facility Noisesome ideology forcefed through the sphincter ani Mother ran away from the constant tantrums of the AK Forty seven men played that instrument and stole her dignity The music was too loud she said So she is still hiding six feet under Brother coughs a lot, spits a lot and is a skeleton of wonder What the hell? Where is heaven? Sons mistook for dustbins constantly being reclaimed by the grave This wall-less prison Trust is no more between husband and wife Men **** men and dog eat dog Mothers shun their wombs Vatican shut its doors Hell is contemplating too We dance to our heart beats, the only hope
0
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
Terminal illness
Grandma never told me a tale Never scared me by pointing at spooky pots Never pained me by showing the bird cage trapped in the wild fire Never forcefed me by threatening to lay in dark corridors Never slept near me Nor caressed me. Sometimes she raved About the handsomeness, The extravagance and intelligence Of our alcoholic, pockfaced, stingy Grandpa. And all these like fable Told long ago By your Grandma.
0
May 23, 2014
May 23, 2014 at 1:48 AM UTC
Grandma’s Tale
I will never be good enough for you And I don't need to I'm like Picasso abused Like a genius misunderstood And thrown away in a garbage can Your trash is my treasure But I'm better that I'm more than you think You raised your concerns About me, your insecurities, Projected onto me I will never be what you desire I will never become what you are I am my own, I am my self A very product of my own creation Brought into existence by the big bang of my first breath And sustained by the air of my world Continuing because of me I hear the words I need to and the rest is ******* I walk the road I paved it all on my own Its me, why would I ever adhere to be what you think I am I am nothing of what you percieve You do not know me You have an alien in your mind that You think is me I'm am not what you think because it Makes it easy for you to control By believing this image You projected Its not me It is never me No you cannot take that away from me My identity belongs in my hands and my mind My history that I write On these scribbled pages These papers, in my book I made me It is a beautiful masterpiece that many have applauded You are not an artisan You are not the greatest You know nothing of what it means to suffer as an artist I am the perfect living thing, The being of poetic prowess, The writer of spectular stories, I am the musician of intrigue, I am the philosopher of ages, I am underrated You are so overrated You are nothing You have painted the illusion of your own ego Forcefed me these lies until I believed them No! Not now, not anymore I am my maker. I am God. I know myself And you do not see me for who I really am You see what your eyes want you to see And its a farce, its a joke, I have done things you could never dream of doing My whole life is an achievement That needs to be analysed by world class historian And journalists and film makers will make documentaries about me Trust me, you think I am weak But I am so strong Stronger than you could ever imsgine I can move mountains, and break boulders, and pour rain from clouds, I can spread the sun out in the sky You will never destroy me With your paranoia Your crucifix I'll take it down Throw it away In the rubble of dirt Buried beneath the ground You are the idol I worshipped that punished me No longer I will stand on my two feet As I always have As I always will You can laugh at Gloria Gaynor Like yiu laugh at everything with your cynical drawl But she was right I will survive I will make it the top I will not let these projections become me, They are yours. Push them through the window And bounce them off the walls They are not mine, your thoughts do not belong to me Get away from me I've surpassed your monstruous ideology. You are the foreigner stealing my thoughts I run, I stand, I climb. I exist. I move forward. I am better than this.
0
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 10:59 AM UTC
Don't Break Me
I will never be good enough for you And I don't need to I'm like Picasso abused Like a genius misunderstood And thrown away in a garbage can Your trash is my treasure But I'm better that I'm more than you think You raised your concerns About me, your insecurities, Projected onto me I will never be what you desire I will never become what you are I am my own, I am my self A very product of my own creation Brought into existence by the big bang of my first breath And sustained by the air of my world Continuing because of me I hear the words I need to and the rest is ******* I walk the road I paved it all on my own Its me, why would I ever adhere to be what you think I am I am nothing of what you percieve You do not know me You have an alien in your mind that You think is me I'm am not what you think because it Makes it easy for you to control By believing this image You projected Its not me It is never me No you cannot take that away from me My identity belongs in my hands and my mind My history that I write On these scribbled pages These papers, in my book I made me It is a beautiful masterpiece that many have applauded You are not an artisan You are not the greatest You know nothing of what it means to suffer as an artist I am the perfect living thing, The being of poetic prowess, The writer of spectular stories, I am the musician of intrigue, I am the philosopher of ages, I am underrated You are so overrated You are nothing You have painted the illusion of your own ego Forcefed me these lies until I believed them No! Not now, not anymore I am my maker. I am God. I know myself And you do not see me for who I really am You see what your eyes want you to see And its a farce, its a joke, I have done things you could never dream of doing My whole life is an achievement That needs to be analysed by world class historian And journalists and film makers will make documentaries about me Trust me, you think I am weak But I am so strong Stronger than you could ever imsgine I can move mountains, and break boulders, and pour rain from clouds, I can spread the sun out in the sky You will never destroy me With your paranoia Your crucifix I'll take it down Throw it away In the rubble of dirt Buried beneath the ground You are the idol I worshipped that punished me No longer I will stand on my two feet As I always have As I always will You can laugh at Gloria Gaynor Like yiu laugh at everything with your cynical drawl But she was right I will survive I will make it the top I will not let these projections become me, They are yours. Push them through the window And bounce them off the walls They are not mine, your thoughts do not belong to me Get away from me I've surpassed your monstruous ideology. You are the foreigner stealing my thoughts I run, I stand, I climb. I exist. I move forward. I am better than this.
Continue reading...
95
I read a headline- *** deprived daughters who move back home" How can I be deprived of something That was forcefed to me?
0
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 2:47 AM UTC
Untitled
We placed you on a pedestal So high up And you fell, We bowed at your feet And crucified your soul. You were running wild In dreams of our youth, You stood in the mirror Where we threw our pain Of paranoid projections And hatred directed towards you. The world's own scapegoat to its ****** up problems. We destroyed your face On the silver screen. In a consumption society, In our capitalist marketplace, Where we bled your extracted tears And murdered you on the stage. This is who we are, Just a pack of violent wolves Cannibals. We killed you. Forcefed you, for foie gras And milked you, for caviar Our sacrifice, An effigy Made you a martyr For your love.
0
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
Suicide