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And after the last Galactic War, those from the stars came and gods became. They indulged in the pleasures of the Earth. They created and mated. Over time they got bored and got innovative. They created hybrids to work for them and adore them. This hybrid had a confused consciousness. Once this hybrid was one (whole) but because he was too god-like and powerful, he had to be separated. Male and female were born. Because this separation caused a void in each and a longing for freedom, laws were made and temples built. And the world as we'd have it would be As It Is In Heaven. There were different civilizations of lords and they contended with each other as to what the best way to rule man was. So each sect had its belief system. However this didn't build a bridge to close the gap between male and female. These laws of Conduct and Engagement became integrated into what is called the Game. If you were a man you had to court a woman in order to have her company but because of intense ****** activity and interbreeding you had to marry before having ****** *******. The women were encouraged to make the men trail, suffer and earn to have ***. This was effective to the lords for man would concentrate on the illusion of the game rather than the divine art, mystery, sophistication and connective power of ***. So *** outside of marriage was ridiculed, the participants scorned.

There were brawls and arguments about who had the right to court which woman. The highest honour was laying with a goddess or god; as it gave you all knowledge and ability - This was forbidden by other gods as it would amplify the mobility and authority of man. It was decided then that those of the genetic line of the dominant gods of the time or the empire with the largest influence had a birth-right to marry the fairest women. It was at this point that kingship was born, the MacGods of pure blood. They would then be the intermediary between man and the gods. They would see that the game is carried out  as well as other affairs. This new style of relationship conduct caused much conflict, hate and intolerance. And as the ages went with man defending himself with passive oppression; as division was succeeding with language, culture and tribes... Those who were in resistance sought to restore or imprint the liberty of humankind; they were known as the Rebellious Liberals. In those days if a man fornicated without being married he was hanged. These acts of tyranny and Authoritarian dictatorship led to man hating the gods; yes man hated his selfish parents. So the wars against the gods began. And the kings sought to protect the dynasty of the gods. The gods that were conquered hid in the underground, others fled into other galaxies and planets and colonized there. The beauty of love had endured a grotesque wound. Man helpless continued to submit to the rules of the game. As the world fell from 4-D to 3-D man was taught that he would communicate with his ancestors in the afterlife for guidance, as well as when asleep and in trance states.

However the game survived under kings, although peoples separated and new tribes were formed; men held on to rituals and believed it was the will of a god or another. This consciousness tore the heart of the Earth and the insecurities of self expanded, an incessant feeling of fear and an imbalance of self-love. This led to many looking to and aspiring to kings... Over the ages the glamorous have had an upper hand to court and lay fairladies. The indoctrinating dogma that is religion sprout patriarchal homes.

This bred insubordination and woman became the place of weeping. The ages passed and men grew arrogant, women bitter and helpless. The institutions of the game, marriage and religion were now attacking the love they claimed to protect. The world grew careless and bitter, male and female drifting so far apart as though they were never one. Consequent to this there were poets and liberals, there were also charlatans who were lackeys for the game. The male charlatans giving advice to men, the female charlatans giving advice to women. So psychotic ideologies were passed from father to son, mother to daughter - father to daughter, mother to son. A new age sprung with the evolution of man, or rather devolution of man as mystics would have it, this was the age of Banking. Not that there weren't enough troubles. Now money grew itself an ego, an ego to be protected, protected by the very descendants of the gods-MacGods, they were the gatekeepers. It was expected that bank-robbers would be heroes and the new face of man. All this in effort to uplift a self long wounded. It wouldn't be long that gangsters would be overthrown and police the new heroes... But a crazy world it was as both faces would grow to be corrupt with no one investigating the source.

The source now devised Feminism, this would bring justice to women on the face of it but rather vengeance to men. Men would wear a new garment of infants and senseless idiots. What happened to the justice? There was no justice.

Women would replace the face of old obnoxious, selfish and abusive men. With better jobs, equal opportunities, better insurance; the sky was the limit for women. Men faced a new threat either than themselves or the threatening boundaries of the game (which leave you a public fool if you don't follow, a player if you do) - and players were cool - the threat was the wounded vengeful woman who was now given the power to run the game. Judicial systems protected woman, Education systems, Banking Systems, Insurance Systems and Media and Industry; all protected woman. The game promised self-esteem if its rules were followed but it only led to folly, sorrow and despair. As women have wide coffers, power they can bear and power was given to her by the source. Justice became vengeance, impatience became resentment, being broke meant loneliness. Institutions of poetry, art, fiction and even the white magical arts were under attack. The new god was money and everyone would be made to bow, his guitar would be love, esteem, health, cognition and consciousness; and masterfully play he did.

It was now up to the few descendants of the liberals to uplift the consciousness of the world once more... That there be love, peace, harmony, hope, equality and human liberty. The 144000 Pleiadian Warriors led by the General Immanuel who fought for humanity promised to return in a burning, blinding and stormy white cloud. Hovering in a ship of space (spaceship). And the liberals and poets of old from the ashes would rise and the Game of the Lords meet its demise. One again we shall be, whole and eternal.
Various sources or references inspired this story... In effect love is its destined glory
look me in the eye and tell me that you love me
or was it all a sad story that you unconsciously believed
while you raided the fridge and fornicated wildly
too late is not really an acceptable position
and later on is usually an example of indecision
and sometimes specimens reject their predicaments
especially if they are eventually going to be your dinner
i am sure that i am here to usher in a new authority
resurrected like a phoenix i must be stronger than before
so even if forever is often equivalent to never
and september is the month of seven (or was it nine) serpents
that are to be reborn in the dawn of Time's obsidian
as our minds have spent oblivion in the forges
of turgidly engorged shores, torn from their former continents
as forms are always gripped in hands who choose intolerance 
take administrators, lawyers, bureaucrats and clerks;
as examples of this; par excellence
Trevor Gates May 2013
Adamant, nocturnal dalliance
Egregious, insidious, velvet ambiance

An unyielding, dark but brief love affair
The flagrant, seductive and comely au pair

The Eclectic, unmatched, Androgynous Circus
Red devils, black sheep and felines in service

Contortionists, gypsies, and malevolent magicians
All twisting to a dance played by faceless musicians

A night in Tunisia or a place above the Siene
Where else but all in the shadows of dreams?

Enchanted, redolent wonder of festive illumination    
Her eyes absorbed, glimmering in the lush captivation

Enveloping, engulfing silk around our bodies
Days, nights measured by tragic commodities

Arpeggios, rippling across glistening string inventions
Bowing cellos; cellists bowing with audience permission

Masks, costumes, carnivals and the golden mirror
Cerulean dripping limbs that slither while near her

The alabaster piano played by a three-armed puppet
The statues turn and welcome us for a crumpet

Maria Callus sings Ave Maria backwards then stops
The statues and demons laugh while playing with props

“This requiem for the living, begins with a kiss”
The statues said in a tone of voice I could not resist.

“Our overture shall be a ******, a nail in the coffin; a death.
All while you swallow the nectar on your lover’s last breath.”


Needles protruded my head
And I watched as my love was torn
Limb from limb
While the jackals and ballroom guests
Fornicated on the spilled blood and guts
I cried and they cheered as the lights dimmed
For All I could see was the sight of them leave
Into the darkness.
But the noises were as loud as ever as hands
And digits groped my body.
Moaning voices and rhythmic thrusting
And tongues in my ear
And teeth gnawing on my neck
Pain felt, endured, experienced
Then
I was released into the middle of the scarlet draped room
When the phlegm of ****** fluids whipped into a dried crust

A sharp edge stabbed me in the back of the neck
Running along my back, through my spine, down my skin and ending in my ******.
Mechanical hands ripped apart my skin  
I slid out of my flesh like a serpentine ******.
I stood there
shaking from the excruciating, unfathomable pain
the grid and design of my muscular system bare and seen.  

From the pieces of my departed lover,
the master with the many mechanical hands
slathered the slips
and sleeves of her skin onto my own.

Needles and thread went to work.
The puppet master sewed.
The healing plasma
the drying blood
the encapsulating tears lubricated my whole

Once he was finished, I was dunked into a pool of clear gelatin.

For hours I soaked and became whole again.
Then I rose and I was dressed
the finest garments, from across the globe.
I sat once again at the table where the statues invited me.
The musicians, the magicians, the demons, gypsies, masks and serpents
Watched and gleamed
while I sipped my tea

I out spread my fingers.

Layers of skin and stitches

No more hair.
No more nails.
Not just a regular face
but one all shall remember.

I was born as one

Then made from many

In the imminence of zealous devils in my wake
Of the attrition I have forsake

Now as the curtain rose and the spider-silk strings hoisted me up on stage
The master showcased my story to all whoever wished to engage

“Adamant, nocturnal dalliance
Egregious, insidious, velvet ambiance

An unyielding, dark but brief love affair
The flagrant, seductive and comely au pair

The Eclectic, unmatched, Androgynous Circus
Red devils, black sheep and felines in service

I am Vincent Andromeda
Your Strangelove phenomena.”
Mike Fashé Mar 2013
I am what’s left of a dying breed that called life beautiful
Truly worth living and dying for
But it was your kind that fornicated, violated, and devastated the soul of a beautiful entity
Who gifted us with art, beauty, and taste for desire
Maybe it was her who corrupted us for loving us too much
Or was it our nature to have more than we are given?
Demanding more and more
Until we ****** the life out of the meaning, be grateful for what you have
I’m sick and nauseated by the false portrait of life
Sick and twisted figures painted with false smiles
True emotions hidden under heavy painted sunrises that tells a different story
Literally sweet and innocent characters erasing themselves from this reality
Just to escape the hardship of this imprisonment your people have created.
I can’t stand to see your kind preach to us, we do it for the art, for the beauty, and the taste
You cursed that meaning
You ripped the soul of a greatly spirit
You proudly preach a lecture of hypocrisy and false love
If you truly cared to love us
You’ll not be worshiped like a god
Deep down
Angels are dead
Demons are dead
The doctrine of the trinity
Is my doctrine of my divinity
I am the Father
I am the son
I am no holy ghost
I am a plague
Not from hell nor heaven, but a world that rejoiced beauty from an unbalanced reality
Of love and hate
I am not your God
I am not the Devil
Both are dead
No creator can save you
I am your deity
I am your life
I am your death
I am your escape
I am your only freedom  
This profound meaning
Ascends through my heart & soul
The flower of life spreads through me
Like a wildfire
No angel or demon
Can’t stop me
Proclaim me as one in all
I am divinity!

You absorb the supplements of life
Resources are obliterated
Left & right
By tonight your life will be ended by the knife
I've awaken from an eternal slumber
Count down the numbers
You oppress Art
The beauty
You tainted the taste of absolute harmony
Your desire to have power
Has blinded you
You eat our flesh like starving vultures
You left us to be tortured
The rapture will soon be among us
Nature will take it places
To immaculate this famine land
Natural selection will have entirely new meaning
I’ll pick up where you left off
For now…
My sentiments for aesthetic judgment
Will run through every vein in your body
Clogging every end
Suffocating you in every way imaginable
The oceans will dry
This green sphere will rebuild itself
New seeds of life will cleanse
This heinous reality
Sorry I haven't posted anything recently, but I've been working on a three part poem about  aestheticism, autotheism, dualism, monotheism, beauty, nature, art, the mind of a killer, and symbolism. Part II will be here in a couple of weeks... if not, April then. Please enjoy and thanks for reading :) This 3 part poem is about a passionate artist who takes matter into his own hands.
Yenson Aug 2018
We shall wipe you OUT
We will ERASE you
We are the children's of Cain and that is what we do

I come from the lands of  the Baobab tree and Cocoa Tree
Steep in the tradition of revering life and nature all free
By my wits and honest endeavours toiled and earned my fee
Never harmed nor injured never stole even a penny wee
Paid my dues and gave when I could always busy as a bee

Now YOU the children's of Cain spake and declared
We shall wipe you OUT
 We will erase YOU

I come from a land that knows parched earth and hunger
Where great rivers flow yet clean water comes in little beaker
Proud animals run free and only the rodents are for hunter
Trees are fertile with fruits aplenty and vegetables are litter
In gleeful kin and merry we share harvest with each other

Now you the children's of Cain spake and declared
We shall wipe you OUT
We will erase YOU

What is my crime pray tell me when in honest endeavour
I gave and shared my wages and food to an errant neighbour
Who repaid my kindness by robbing mine with cruel vigour
And whilst I remorsed such vileness with fervent pained ardor
They riposted, a trip back to your jungle is what we will conjure

Now YOU the children's of Cain spake and declared
We shall wipe you OUT                               
We will erase YOU

Children's of Cain know nothing but death and destruction
You came to ours and plundered all you could with ruction
You stole, fornicated, ruined and destroyed with glib seduction
Modern times has merely refined your vainglorious disposition
Distinguished misrulers, liars and evil masters of misappropations

We shall wipe you OUT
We will erase YOU       
Children's of Cain OTHERS know all YOU do is ****
Like your FATHER killed his BROTHER
Like your FATHER killed his guiltless BROTHER
Sam Guthrie Jan 2010
Hear the chorus of moans and cries,
Distraught in sorrow and covered in lies,
An ebony symphony tormented by sin,
Not of their own but of winter white skin,

I see them, broken, beaten, hated,
Abused, refused, and fornicated,
By **** and lustful molestation,
Helpless still an entire nation,

Watch tiny hands of tear stained youth,
Be ripped away from shreds of truth,
From loving fingers do they pry,
The small away, now most will die,

I see them sobbing gasping for breath,
Eyes blurred and swollen smelling of death,
Terror instilled on the hearts of so many,
As they’re are sold for the worth of a penny,

You’re cruel and you’re vicious you know not what they faired,
You’re words drip with acid sadistically shared,
You carry infection and taint all those near,
I bring you dear folks the esteemed auctioneer,

The slayer of hope with malicious intent,
With a cross in his hands he believes he’ll repent,
As I watch from the corner of life so ill fated,
Blood pours from the wounds on the backs now serrated,

My eyes know no mercy and I’ll **** with a glance,
I know nothing of black, white and grey filled with chance,
I speak for the demons that live off the hate,
Thrive on the loathing of these people’s fate,

There are no angels in this room filled with pain,
After all who could stand in this blood filled domain.
Glenn McCrary Mar 2012
A legacy fornicated with our horizon

An abstract painting of foreign tales

Many daring eyes attempt interpretation

Not long did their knees last before

eyebrows rose with a streak of mystery

caught within the silhouette of vanity

calendars of regret; vessels of blight
K Balachandran Dec 2013
The night is young,
dark, lascivious and willing
expectations and I
sit hand in hand with her
keeping the tempting
sleep at bay, for long.
Your part of the bed
is still warm, I imagine,
                         anyway
I kept your dinner
packed in the fridge,
warm it up and eat
if you are too late.
I won't be able to take
any call from infinity
if I am being fornicated by
my concubine
an old dream of passion
that keeps on soliciting,
but don't know when
would it knock on my door.
I dream a pendulum swinging between effulgence and darkness
Liam Dierl Feb 2013
Don’t put off til tomorrow what you can do today
Its always work work work and no more play
working hard or hardly working
well trust me no one’s really working
they would much rather be jerking off
the some hot ***** buxom blonde
they found while surfing
the (alternative to working) world wide web
but that won’t change the ebb and flow
it’s nothing but ******* stop and go
a shitstorm of ‘hurry up and wait’
that makes us indecisive babies
because specialization creates dependence
what happened to the renaissance men on our planet?
a man can only do so much
and woman only gives her touch
what? so there’s no more time in life to learn
and I’ll just have to wait my turn?
what about potential? I’m ready to be educated
there’s more to life than wasting time getting wasted
and self-fornicated
let me tell you how to do your job
you’re in my way, I won’t be robbed
of any chance I have to be the best, I wanna impress
but mere population overflow represses my need to show
show you how I can run this show
all by myself, I know,
I sound like an *******, we could all be fantastic
if we weren’t so fanatic just cuz we don’t fill a quota
that determines our determination
when we fill out simple-minded worksheets or switch stations
that’s messed up
we might as well give up and become chronic masterbaturs
Ben Jones Mar 2014
Before the time of humans
When the Earth was bare and new
As the sand was poured along the shore
And the sky was painted blue
A single breed of creature
Had dominion of the land
God’s chosen kind: The Turkey
To adhere to his command

They fluttered forth and multiplied
Quite fruitful, they became
They fornicated day and night
Each downy chap and dame
And God was not too happy
“Now hang on just a minute
I said that you should multiply
But, ******, there’s a limit”

The Turkeys gobbled ruefully
For lack of hanky-panky
Until, up stepped a noble fowl
By the name of Lance the Lanky
He stood at least a meter high
His beak was sharpened weekly
The Lord appeared unto him
“Yes ,Lance?” He ventured meekly

Lance stuck out his mighty chest
And issued his demands
For he couldn't get his rocks off
And was quite bereft of hands
“My Lord, I want some nookie
And this abstinence is shocking!
I’m not the kind of feathered ****
To tolerate a blocking”

The Lord rolled up his baggy sleeves
“Now quit your ****** prattle
We’ll settle this the proper way
Prepare yourself for battle!
Name your choice of weapon”
“I will!” responded Lance
“We’ll settle on a victor
Through the medium of dance”

So God moved on the firmament
And Lo! In flashing squares
A dance floor, he constructed
And around it, tiny chairs
The turkey folk assembled
As the Lord and Lance prepared
And to the beat of Tiger Feet
The dance-off was declared

Lance stepped up and Tap-danced
For birds, a skillful deed
He clicked and clattered flawlessly
And took an early lead
But God was quick to counter
With a cheeky little Rumba
The music changed at His command
To a Shakin’ Stevens number

Lance tried Paso Doble
But he made a major blunder
He put his feet too far apart
And Lord God Limbo-ed under
They formed up for a Charleston
The audience were wowed
Then tangled in a tango
Turning circles for the crowd

Their Salsa was spectacular
The Cossack dance was kickin’
So Lance pressed his advantage
With a faultless Funky Chicken
The scores were near identical
For the Foxtrot and the Jive
God had racked up forty three
And Lance had forty five

The Harlem Shake was noteworthy
The Lap Dance, indescribable
The scores were kept by seraphim
Reputedly unbribable
Endlessly, they boogied on
They threw the Highland Fling
But crisis! Lance tripped over
And he sprained his mighty wing

God was named as champion
And not the least bit pleased
The Turkey Folk were banished
Their nests and corn were seized
Then God made just two humans
And to save himself some grief
Instead of genitalia
He gave them each a leaf

He made for them a garden
With a host of fruit and veg
He bid them “See just yonder
“Behind the garden hedge
That’s where I keep the Turkeys
And each ****** one's a sinner
So gather sage and onions up
I’ll show you what’s for dinner”
ZT Jul 2016
Guilt*
It consumes me

I fornicated with sin
That bore fruit
To A child called Guilt

In my stomach it grows
It consumes me
Slowly
Ever so slowly
Eating a piece of me

I tried to erase
The evidence of sin

Five months
It took five months
To cut it open
Sliced through flesh
Amidst the blood that drowned
Guilt was out in the open

Guilt with crying
Trying to understand what was happening
An entire new world was before him

I thought I could erase it
The evidence of sin

But guilt was smiling on me
I could not dare bury

My guilt

I could not

So I decided
To forever live with *
Guilt
How would life be like Living with Guilt? I believe that it is imporant to forgive others and more important to learn to forgive yourself. Dont let yourself be consumed by guilt.
The gavel drops,
twisted and fornicated
by
the madman’s hand.
Dealt out to the
better,
          lesser
                    man.

The combine, travels in reverse.
Bird droppings on a
battered window, pain,
shattered, letting in
the harsh
          summer
                    rain.

Snake rivers glow
in the evening, partaking
in the avenues,
          traveling,
                    T- train.

Spreading,
ashes, ashes, ashes.
The smoke escapes,
cold
          and
                    grey.

Shadows changing,
shifting,
          playing.

Looking back,
a mirror on yourself.
Paper backs on your own
lonely,
          rotten
                    bookshelf.


Cover to cover,
pages ******,
paper; cuts
deeper
           than
                    swords
Trey Evans Nov 2014
Cigarette smoke lingering in the air
A full bottle of whiskey next to the bed
Uneasy feelings of my past life
Unsettling memories of you in my head

Reasons for infidelity never discussed
*** performed; alas, no love displayed
Late night intrusions by ****** intruders
Roles of husband and wife horribly played

Children we once planned on having
Simply a simple fornicated ideal
A shell of my former robust being
Attached to emotions unreal

Habitual rituals no longer practiced
Alcohol and drugs relinquish my lust
Notes of times past crumbled in the trash
Suddenly, the rush from your touch is a must

Hallucinations impair my rational thinking
My inner demons come to life
It’s only 8 p.m.
This is going to be a pretty long night…
written 5/29/12
John Kuriakose Dec 2013
A Merry Christmas, yet another, to all my   siblings on the Earth!
A reminder, a lesson, all over, yet again, on how to live in love!

The Commandments we heard, and heard, but never heeded;
But asked: To love! How’s that? Never to ****! How…how is that?

To pray! How is that? Oh God I’m puzzled, baffled, confounded!
Then He said: let the one who is sinless throw her the first stone!

Still we threw stones and fornicated, envied, then betrayed Him;
And again said: we are confused, teach us everything, A to Z!

Then He Himself came: in all humility, to love and to be hated;
To give never to be returned, and to trust only to be betrayed;

Then taught, how to honour the Father to be honoured by Him;
And then, at last, the lesson ultimate: how to die to be reborn!

Lo! Stars! Cribs! Carols! All reminders on how to live and love!
And to wish again, and yet again, A HAPPY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!
Tuffy Mutombo Apr 2018
Bodies sold at a retail price
To hearts which are colder than ice
She sold her soul and pride for money
While inside she was dying alone and empty
Beaten and bruised badly
She took every slap boldly
when it came to scars
She had one too many

She a victim of her insecurity
He an addict addicted to ****** gratification
*** driven with no particular destination
At home he had a wife who lost her passion
So prostitutes became his substitution
Seeking them in the day, seeking them at night
Just so he could fill that empty spot

***** at a young age,
so she fornicated with rage
Anger in her eyes
fear in her heart
pain on her mind
Numb to pleasure
she only smiled when she saw dollars
Wore dog collars
as man acted like they owned her

A property for hire between her legs
Men would love her and touch her, hurt and destroy her, abuse her and mistreat her and no one would defend her

To her love and pain all felt the same
Karisa Brown Dec 2018
I want to be cresened
By your sunlight lips
Fornicated by your doubts
Insecure and pure
Saturated in hues unknown
Lingering
Over me
Protecting the innocent

Move through me
Like energy against the water
Or light it on fire
Either one
Is suited just for you

You are the tailor
The maker
The storm and the desire

Your lingering over yourself
Protecting the innocent
Don't worry
This place is safe for you
Abimael Dec 2015
The tears that I waste
is the tears that we create
And We have not met.
We crave for our fresh
but we have not met
We dream for a better sunset
but we have not met
A night on bed
But we have not met
A date on the lake
but we have not met
I do not know how it will end
But we have fornicated.
Andrew Crawford Dec 2016
Ribbons of coal scold in blackened, burning folds-
escaping embers resemble silver painted gold and sold.
Strands stoke, warmth surrendered holding whole control;
in whispers wintered, finger tips on frigid frost they stole.
Heat undispelled, still seething, smolders hot as hell;
ashes eaten- husk on which the starving dwell; the shell-
a bone, all bare, in time is claimed to dust; expelled.
In fires fornicated, even strongest structures felled.

Ripples of the water wander in to deeper shore-
silently it nudges me, like clockwork, back and forth.
In the grinning moonlight, jagged rocks on which I pour-
my body mercied by the tide these tired arms ignored.
Coughing and a choke, awoken by the sound of surf-
the broken glass upon my face, the scolding, sandy earth-
a taste of tears on tortured tongue, then drank into the thirst
I dove headfirst to wash away, this solitude submersed.
About getting my heart broken by a girl with black hair
Wk kortas Jun 2020
He'd made what he'd believed the requisite sacrifices,
At least mildly painful but fully necessary,
Striving to keep a certain arm's-length objectivity
In order to carry out his craft
So that it was not tainted by sentiment,
Detachment serving as antiseptic,
In the hopes divining the purposes of God or whatever,
And thus giving it the proper exposition,
So he'd set about the process of finding some celestial thread,
Traipsing both interstate and back road,
Standing forlornly before crumbling Catskill hotels,
Abandoned bath-houses and resorts in Sharon Springs,
The sarcophagus-like state office building in Binghamton
(Hopelessly poisoned before it could ever be occupied,
Casting a baleful shadow over the city's ragged downtown)
The remnants of the Strand over in Ithaca,
Once beautiful lady of vaudeville
Now nesting-place-***-latrine for pigeons
Cooing and trilling at him insistently,
As if they spoke some code he must be able to cipher,
The sprawling auto graveyard
Cradled in the elbow-crook of an on-ramp in Cortland,
The black-eye front ends of ancient Buicks and Datsuns
A series of inscrutable crossword puzzle rows,
All of these things whispering intermittently to him
But providing no revelation, save a gut feeling
That the epiphany he sought was forever beyond him,
And in the mad act of a man beyond dejection,
He pulled his car into some sad rest area,
No more than a picnic table and a port-a-john,
Wandering over to the edge of the scrubby woods
Where teens fornicated and drunks urinated,
And pulled up a fistful of ragged flowering weeds
Pulling of the petals one by one
In the manner of some sad, jilted, loved-then-unloved juvenile
Contemplating how deeply he dwells among the forsaken.
Latiaaa Apr 24
Deep down in the submarine depths of an abyss
Lies the burrows of your deepest desires.
Wanting togetherness but in the context of Siamese twins.
You can’t have your cake and eat it too.
Those mummified remains still haunt you in your sleep—
Obsessing over putrefied bottom fat
and Nile rivers pouring in and out.
You fornicated with women—
Felt like you bombed the village or did it just feel bomb?
Breaking sweats as if you’re a labored worker…
Save it.
Eventually you gotta meet your maker and confess.
Idealizations and fantasies can only operate off inner truth and cravings.
Only the strong willed can survive.
Everything you preach is a myth—
“ever heard of the Loc-ness monster? Boogeyman?”
Yea like those myths…
You’re a cracked out delusion of what you want to be,
Look within and speak the real you.

— The End —