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Marina Rose Oct 2011
Tired eyes
shame envelops her body, like gauze
shoulderblades dripping with chagrin, a tattered pair of wings.
Freckles dot her nose, a miniature map,
sanguine lips on milky skin.
Stale, intangible disgrace.

Her eyes are drawn to the sunken sky,
and puffs of breath dance around her lips.
Acid boils within her
rippling throughout her body, threatening to tear her in two.
Fingers pressed to lips; drag,
a tiny ember. Ash away the agony.

A script, perfectly mastered:
a whimper, a moan, a buck of her hips.
Expectant with dread:
a low grunt, heavy panting, and slick, salty sweat
and at last it comes to a close.

And then: a fistful of bills.
Stiff, unyeilding, she will swallow hard.
And tell herself it was all worthwhile.

There is a hole in her heart,
dimly lit by a frenzy of pale, crushed stars
the smell of their flames: chalky, thick charcoal
whisper a faint reassurance.

Penance stains her cheeks in lacy contours
ageless, crooked bruises lace her body and blister to the surface of her skin
unable to rinse herself of sin,
she will choke on the sun.
betterdays Sep 2014
a butterball sun,
sits low in the
morning sky.

as the weekend peloton, whizzes on by and down
the hill.

in the council's headland park precinct,
the illegal nomads,
are being rousted
and evicted from, their overnight, purlioned and picturesque views.

the early fishermen,
in their dinghies,
dot the teal sea and
the sail boats,
are racing out further,
white sails, against blue sky.

in our pond,
the koi leap in a frenzy,
trying to catch,
the itty, bitty, midgey bugs.
and the old blue tongue,
comes out to settle on his
rough log .

the bees work tirelessly,
from flower to flower.
as the blue wrens,
gossip and preen,
in their lilac bower

the dragon flies dart
about in distraction.
while over at
the milkwood patch,
you can see the caterpillars,
are busy decimating,
leaf after leaf.

i sit on the porch,
coffee in hand.
newspaper forgotten
on the side table.
slowly taking this beauty all in.

as the aroma of eggs, bacon and pancakes, drift from within.
Kitty Prr Dec 2013
Poem a day, number 17*

Time of peace
Day of rest
In this time of 24/7
Who really gets that?

If you are blessed
With a day or two off
You spend the weeks before
In a manic frenzy

Fitting in shopping
And organising
Around work
And schedules.

This year our Christmas
Will be the 22nd
The one day we all have
Enough time off.

Then Mr will rush out
To work that evening.
I will prepare myself
For work the next day.
Missed my poem a day yesterday so I did two today.  (not sure if it counts but I am going  with it)
Marina Rose Oct 2011
It was the heat.
That is the only conclusion I've come to.

It was far from
exclusively physical, in fact
it was primarily an inner-warmth.

I found myself persistently pressing
myself against his chest,
as if curling into him
would have an incubator-like effect.

I could be covered in a film of sweat
but beneath my skin I was frozen.
Not in the emotionless, stoic way
but in the starved for touch, anyone's touch way.

I wondered if everyone else
stayed as warm as him
all the time
or if it was just my own perception
which had a habit of being warped anyhow.

I was content with not knowing.
I didn't need to know everything,
or anything for that matter.

I filled my own gaps with
the consuming, wolfish ache
for that same warmth,
the only thing that could thaw my skin
and whatever lies beneath.

I must have only been able to endure
that frenzy for so long,
because now I discard the notion altogether;
hot or cold, it can't be helped.
Cristina Dean May 2017
Others can be good
Let me be this
Pathetic scrawls
In a notebook
Let me play again with my
Deamons
Let them take
Over
Let them swirl in the night
Like my tongue in this stale beer

You haunt me with my own impotence
I spend the days trying hard not to regret, trying to forget
But I am lost and confused. And it's not you.
This is me
Without a lover to have and hold
This is me in a restless frenzy
This is the needle
This is the sound of your laughter drilling at my chest.
This is the hit in a bathroom stall
This is my heart cracked open like a walnut.
It is not you
This is me reaching out
in the dark
For the the green of your eyes
This is my sickness
Love like the hot breath of a beast.
Love like a nasty stickiness on my skin
Love like dancing goblins around a burning stake
Love like a dry heat
The sun torching the sun
The sun torching
Icarus'
Wings
Hannah Tennant Dec 2011
The grasses shimmer
Bend, twist and twirl
Spreading their arms, their spinning forms
Towards the crinkled, smiling eyes
Of that fire in the sky
Jubilantly dancing in the embracing heat
Screaming, singing, crying for the beauty
That leaps inside of them
Reaching for the warmth, truly believing it’s in their grasp

A lone tree limply hangs its branches
Smirking at the foolish, naïve grasses, and their blissful ignorance
For they will always be reaching
His hardened form gave up that dream long ago
  
The wind weaves and spins through the grass,
Urging, encouraging, lifting them, igniting the passion within
They whisper words of love and ecstasy through the grass
For they have traveled the world over
And know this pure, unfaltering joy will fade
They too will become brittle, hollow
Like the tree that mocks them
To mask the nostalgia he feels
He grimaces at the sun, taunting and tempting

The sun sits in his knowing sky,
Pities the tree, smiles at the wind, and stirs the grasses
Always alluring, for it is the vague promise
That sends the grasses into a frenzy
For this moment
They are alive
Mateuš Conrad Feb 2016
i still remember times when boris yeltsin governed russia,
and that televisions  didn't have a remote control,
not that i'm being nostalgic as such, more a case
of admiration for the antidote of the theory
of biological evolution, the technological evolution
is much quicker, more changes in a blink of an eye,
i can look at myself as a dark ages' citizen that way.
then i open a book, and look at the world:
in words printed on a page
i see more stability than elsewhere
(even thought language, in akin relation
of comparatives with chemistry... is the most
volatile substance know to man... it's like
lithium dropped in water, most of the time,
as is due to casually phrase: inflammatory speech),
reading is the experimental focus
of a sense of stability, the letters
are laid, there on a page, and do not move,
like two rows of chess pieces either
side of a game waiting for the prologue
of either pawn or a knight, jumping over
the stiff first line of pawns:
in chess the pawns represent the narrator,
the slaughter will come, the end will come,
lucky the pawn to see off a checkmate,
but all the characters: whether knight rook
bishop queen or king are akin to the novel's
interaction of characters... the narrator a coastline
of patience and negligence paired
exposes the key emblems of the game...
slowly the eight dimensions of narration
are reduced to a frail disguise of the centre-piece,
indeed two rooks knights bishops apiece,
but soon the most manipulative piece
(the queen) is taken off... here the metaphysics
reveals that man is the weaker ***,
not a strength of a black widow or a mantis,
man the weaker *** carved from abstraction
thus being revealed...
hence the only source of man's strength is derived
from solitude... women the frenzy of shopping,
barricading each house with cooked rather
than raw meat, with even the cheapest paintings
as opposed to barren walls, all the little
idiosyncratic dips of the tongue into the most
amusing honey that's just it:
fear the tears of a woman, for in them
lies the narrative of wrath...
and no heaven wide and hell as deep can convince
a woman to act otherwise... it only took
Helen of Troy to masquerade her beauty
with a thirst for blood of the countless men...
fear the tears of woman, with woman's tears
comes her wrath... which is paradoxical when
woman becomes a mother...
only child-rearing can appease a woman's
status and the delicacies she understands to be poison
when her status is still angling a look
for the potential nest-builder for the womb
inside a womb of a private life...
those women, who are not wed and are therefore
potential philandering ******... they're the dangerous
ones... all others, upon settling their debt with
the ultimate freedom become, as it were:
caring... fortunate enough to gain with only
one golden eye socket on the ring-finger
an insight into man's whereabouts prior
to settling down...
but women who force such a fate upon any man
will turn the man into a woman she once thought
she was: barren and horrid and fiercely scorching
with inhibited fire...
that same man will show her her true self
in that essence of the collective: all woman as man
in each uniform, prior to the creation of character
with choice between each experience,
as unitary in such a sequence as is deemed necessary...
but fear a woman's tears, they might as well
be called crocodile... a drunk's tear when appreciating
beauty, only because too stone hearted sober...
fear a woman's tears... they're fake...
and are riddle with a subsequent onslaught of hate:
a blind man's retribution.
Devon Aug 2012
There was distraction
so called "responsibilities"
"obligations" - the order of things
But still a naive confidence
that the rainbow wasn't going anywhere

****** in, swirled, flushed
I wake up
about every 5 years
Screaming STOP!

or at least slow down

The little voice gets beat, smacked
and dragged back down

So afraid there won't be a next time
this ones fading,  already far away
woke up in a frenzy this time
But already sliding back down

****** when you realize
you are your own enemy.
Well trained, domesticated consciousness
doesn't tolerate the embarrassment
of its own true colors.
goatgirl Oct 2013
your departing silhouette was ringed with gold
and even the light suddenly thought your face was too good to be touched

who are you?

i heard your name today and it sounded like someone said "God"
my synapses screaming Why are they saying that Don't they know that's taboo Why does it sound so sharp

this internal frenzy shows itself on the outside as a mere nervous chuckle and a pool of crimson under my skin

You are A Deity now

Something I pray to sometimes as if it is omniscient
something that echoes my thoughts like a carbon copy

My God is Shaped like You
Ado Yiembo Oct 2010
If i was drunk,
I would sleep and not care if i awoke,
I would buy another bottle,
Then put my nose in your business and meddle.


I would waylay you,
on your way to the loo.
Tell you how beautiful you are,
Perhaps convince you to sit with me here.
I would tell you how awkward it is,
For you to be sitting there alone at ease,
While all the men admired your gait.
I would tell you i like your smile, wait.
Would you ask if am always like this?
I wouldn’t tell you it’s because am drunk.
In fact i would tell you i don’t usually do this.

I know i would see those curves turn up,
I would feel your coldness melt,
You would be glad we met.
If i was drunk, and i know i might look crazy.
I might walk out in a frenzy.
Perhaps to take a ***.
Then come back and join you.
Buy a Margarita for you to sip,
Or a cocktail for you to dip,
Maybe a whiskey for you to down.
Perhaps you would take one of those,
You usually can’t pronounce.
Plain Baron de Vaals, Chamdor, or one from Champs elysees,

Money wouldn’t be a problem,
That’s my emblem.
You would tell me you like me,
They always do.
and i would too.
You would leave for the loo,
and that would be my cue.
Ready to make *****,
Your carefully woven fabric of dignity.
The last thing you would remember,
before you fall into a slumber,
Would be you liked me.
It would be a pity. But final.
© Ado Yiembo.

Copy and pass “If i was drunk” around to your heart’s content, but always post my Copyright notice above, correctly, both as  courtesy and as a legal necessity to protect any writer. Thank you.
The halls
Full of life
Full of frenzy
Lonely bodies shuffle books and paper
While hiding among the crowds of foes

I hide myself
From bodies called "friends"
As I hold books I so fearfully dread
I wonder "what keeps us all from being dead?"
But all ponder stops in it's shoes
As a door opens
My dear, it's you

You stroll on in
You ignore my longing pleas
Just a glance is all I need
No one wonders why all stops
When you make entrance
Into this passage of teens

For you, dear, add something more
Than what the halls were before
As you light up the stream
Of hopeless people living in steam
You electrify the world
You calm the sea
Everyone stands still
As you pass through
The halls
Maham S Feb 2013
Red drops.
Tiny. Brutal. Morbid.
Dripping
Slowly
Steadily.
My nails claw on your chest.
Long gashes
Red drops.
Trickling
In the midst of this sadistic frenzy
I smile.
At your painful moans
At your begging pleas
At your dying whispers.
Every emotion sensitized
And every sound heightened
Till it was saved in my membrane
In my mind forever.
'Cuz no pain of yours
was bigger than mine.
The drops, once had been gushing from my body
the pleading moans,
had once been my beg for refuge.
And your manic laugh,
as an answer to my begs, is still etched on my mind.
Your sadistic hands clawing at my body
drawing blood
drawing pain
drawing sanity
still there in my mind.
Thriving,
on this pain that I bring you.
No second chances,
since I didn't even get my first.
No mercy, since I died too.
War
I hear the low rumble of force and fear,
the distance closing soon to be upon me,
reigning down to ravage the landscape,
wrenching the very life from all and sunder.
I steel myself in fading moments of calm,
connecting with my soul in brief stillness,
knowing this could be the last time
I may know myself, to feel my vulnerability,
to see and remember those I love so dear,
and those who dearly love and behold me.
I feel my heart fall at the starting post
as fear and force grip me in stark contrast,
I have little choice as the burgeoning moment
paces itself ever onward with reality stamping
in my face; vying for strength, for cowardice to
disperse and clear the path for the oncoming
wagon of battle, to free the world from this
tyrant and wash ourselves clean of war and woe.
Stale air creeps upon me, the familiar smell
of bodies gaping with wounds, of blood
spattered stains upon the earth, of tears
and sweat mingled with the raging war cry,
to see others silently yet fearfully steady themselves
before the terrifying spectacle that besets.
I know you as my enemy and must remain
in this mindset to stand me strong to do my duty,
but yet I want to shake your hand and know you
as we are the same in our order of the day,
without choice we are here to settle the score,
not between one another but for the bigger
wheel that turns with freedom as its epitaph.
We will not be defeated despite the loss of life,
even the threat of connecting with our final hours.
I shriek the battle call and find myself running
toward the firing line, caught up in the melee
of deathly combat that finds itself torn apart
amid the frenzy of body upon body,
that cannot allow boundaries their space,
the message and focus to slay the foe.
I strike out with physical force into flesh
that tears apart with ease of human vulnerability,
then feel a force within that flails me to the ground,
my mind and body hitting the dirt and filth,
face sinking, forced into the mixture of ****** mud.
I wonder, is this my final moment absorbed into darkness,
becoming unaware of the continued chapter around me,
knowing not if I will survive or be at deaths door.
My duty is done and those around wear the poppy
of remembrance, of courage and ultimate sacrifice,
allowing their freedom to be continued and realised,
and I wear the medal of honour but reap the scars,
to live another day that will never dawn the same,
passing those that do not know my wounds that persist.
Nonetheless I am lucky, given the chance to live my life,
to feel the embrace, skin upon skin of those I love.
Julian Jun 2023
MANIFESTO OF LURCHING JAWHOLE WRIKPOND TRAVESTIES


THE SATANIC PLECKIGGER OF NOCTIDIURNAL FINIFUGAL NIHILISTS THAT SCOFF LIKE SCOFFLAWS BECAUSE OF ZALKENGUR AND MOTIVATED REPUDIATION SINK INTO THE ABYSSMAL DEPTHS OF HELL WHEN THEY WAGER A PAXILLOSE SUM ON THE NIMIETY OF CATHEXIS OF VACANCY OF WORLD PROMONTORIES OF SCALDING EVIL TANTAMOUNT TO IDOLATRY AND AVARICE IMMISERATED BY THE GRAVEST GRAVAMEN OF SIN THAT THEY MIGHT DEFEAT THE TANTAMOUNT EVILS OF SPATHODEA BECOMING BALBRIGGAN BECAUSE OF LURCHED MISTETCHES OF RANCID CONTUMELY OF CONTUMACY BECAUSE OF SCREWBALL MADCAP SATANISM DISGUISED AS A PLOY OF SACCHARINE REVENGE BY FONDINK THAT SPONSORS THE VANGERMYTES WHO BANKROLL FORTUNES OF BONANZAS IN INTELLECTUAL UPHEAVAL THAT ARE DISREGARDED BY THE POLYTHEIST PAGANS OF *** MAGICK BY THE FAKEST PROPHETS TO EVER LIVE FOR PROFIT BECAUSE OF PLACKIQUES OF  OJ SIMPSON OUTWEIGHING THE JAILAGE OF ALL INHUMANE ENORMITIES OF TOTEMISM BY SCAFFOLDED MANIFESTOS AGAINST LURID TRAVESTY OF TRAPEZE THAT DESTROYS INSIDIOUSLY AN INVETERATE FILIGREE AND FILIBUSTER AGAINST WRETCHED CONTORTIONS OF CORRUGATED WRIKPONDS TRYING TO CHOUSE THEIR WAY IN SINUOUS SERPENTINE SUBLIME AIMS OF AIMLESS PURSUITS OF MASS DESTRUCTION BY LOAN SHARKING SECODONTS OF THE AVIZANDUM OF TZIGANOLOGY BECAUSE OF RIBALD GLABROUS PLOTS BY MERCENARY INVIDIOUS EXCLAVES OF AUTHORITARIANISM RANCID IN ACRIMONY ABOVE THE TRAVESTY OF TRAGICOMIC GLEBES THAT BANKROLL FALSE PROPHETS TO DEFEAT REAL ONES THAT THEY MIGHT SEE THE PRECIPITOUS DEGRINGOLADE OF RAPACITY CONVENED UPON CONVENTICLES OF SATAN WORSHIP AUTHORED BY THE CITY OF SINNERS WAGING A WAR AGAINST THE ONLY LIVING SAINT IN THE HISTORY OF THE HUMAN RACE BEYOND THE TENURE OF JESUS AND MUHAMMAD SUCH THAT THE PHUGOID MUGIENCE OF RUDENTURE IS THE TESTUDO OF IMMUTABLE ALCHEMY WHICH IS RIGID IN ITS ELEMENTAL DESTRUCTION OF THE NUCLEAR FAMILY IN THE AIM OF PROTERVITY OF PORT-ROUND TITANIC-SINKING BERGAMASKS OF BARKENTINE VAUNTLAY REPUTE BECAUSE OF THE VAPULATION OF SIN UPON THE SINNER THAT NEVER A MAGNANIMITY FORGIVES THE ENORMITY OF IGNORANCE TRUCULENT IN RUTHLESS BRONZED BLEEDING VENOSTASIS OF THE RHEOTAXIS OF PLACKIQUES THAT INCRIMINATED OJ SIMPSON RATHER THAN THE ACTUAL ****** OF REAL PEOPLE THAT WE ARE WORTHLESS CREATURES MINDLESSLY TWADDLING AWAY AT THE FAINT ILLUSION OF CERACEOUS MINUTIAE OF  SIN THAT THEY MIGHT MAGNIFY THEIR AVARICE TO DESTROY AND DECIMATE ENTIRE NATIONS JUST BECAUSE OF A PURBLIND NAIVETY OF MORALLY BANKRUPT PEOPLE FILING FOR BANKRUPTCY BECAUSE OF COSTERMONGERS OF TATTERDEMALIONS HABILIMENTED WITH TURGID EVILS SCOURGING WITH THE PESTILENCE OF THE FIRSTBORN REVENANTS OF GHASTLY AGGRIEVED FRIGHT THAT BECOMES THE BLACKMAIL OF A RAGGED SELACHOSTOMOUS CORPULENT CORPSE OF DIMINUTIVE EVIL TRYING TO MALINGER AROUND COQUETRY OF LOSERS TRYING TO AROUSE THE ANTIPATHY OF THOSE WHO BENEFIT FROM KOBOLD HUMAN BALKANIZATION BY INTERNECINE SWARTHY BONTBOKS WHO TRY THEIR DESPERATE WAYS TO ASSEVERATE THE MOST CARNAPTIOUS EVIL IN THE HISTORY OF TENNIS COURT ACCORDS TO TRY AND BULLDOZE AND BOWDLERIZE THE BIGGEST REVOLUTION IN HUMAN HISTORY BECAUSE OF THE CATHEXIS OF THE NIMIETY OF MULIEBRITY TO THE GREATEST NAIVETY EXACTED UPON THE GREED OF SCRIVELLOS MIXED WITH ONOLATRY BECAUSE A “BEAM-BOMB”FRENZY THAT SOMEHOW OUTMANTLES ALL CORRIGENDA BECAUSE APPARENTLY THE ONLY IMPERATIVE IS COLLECTIVE IMMISERATION OF THE OBOLARY INTO SERFDOM RATHER THAN THE SERVITUDE OF SAINTS TO BELONG TO TRUE TRIDENTS OF JURISDICTION THAT MIGHT BECOME A BETTER BAILIWICK BECAUSE OF MORAL REFORM RATHER THAN DESPITE INTRANSIGENT EVIL DESPERATE TO EXACT  REVENGE TO BENEFIT “ACHY-BREAKY-HEART” MILEY CYRUS PEDERASTY JUST BECAUSE THE LAST THROES OF KNELLING STEREOBATE SEMAPHORES ABOUT VICTORS  VAINEST VANITARIANISM TRYING TO GOUGE HUCKSTERS OF DECADENCE SUCH THAT THE WALLOP OF CONTRITION BECOMES A PHONOCAMPTIC ECHO OF MALVERSATION RATHER THAN BENEDICTION. THE BALLASTERS OF BALMORALITY ARE TRYING TO CONNIVE THE GULLIBLE THORNY IMBROGLIOS OF HIDEBOUND RACIST MINORITIES STAKING THEIR ENTIRE FORTUNES ON PAXILLOSE PAYNIMRY BECAUSE OF CHAMOIS LIES OF ELEGAIC BRONTEUMS THAT ARE AUTHORED BY THE INVIDIOUS SYRINX OF THE KOBOLD AGAINST THE TRIDENT OF THE KALIMKARI THAT WITNESSES ALL CUTTHROAT COLLAPSES DESPITE THEIR DESPERATE KISTVAENS MIGHT THEY MANUFACTURE SUBLIME LIES AGAINST THE AUTHOR OF THEIR PAST BONANZAS THROUGH THE EISOPTROMANIA OF LOOSE-LIPPED SECRECY WHICH TRESPASSED DECADES BENEATH OUR TIME TO INFORM EVERY PORBEAGLE ABOUT THE DESTINY OF ALL DISASTER AND BONANZA SUCH THAT ALL BILLIONAIRES COULD GAME EVERY PLOY WHETHER SACCHARINE OR FATTENED, LEAN OR SLICK TO ENGORGE THE COFFERS OF THE ELITISM OF ARISTOPHRENS ONLY FOR THEM TO VIOLATE THE MUTUALISM OF FIDUCIARY TRUST BY TRYING TO GAMBLE WITH AGENTS WHO FIGHT RUDENTURE ONLY AGAINST A PETTY RUBEFACTION BECAUSE OF VENOSTASIS AGAINST THE RHEOTAXIS OF CALUMNIATION THAT BEGS THE SHARPEST DIATRIBE IF ONLY BECAUSE OF SHORT-SIGHTED GLAIKERY OF FAKE JALEN-HURTS OPPORTUNISM SLAUGHTERING MANY BANK ACCOUNTS BECAUSE OF THE MYTHOS OF THE SPECIOUS RUMORS ABOUT MISLED VIDEOS OF PAST LECHERIES TRYING TO INCUR FINANCIAL CATASTROPHE UPON THE INDIGENT BEREFT OF THE PERSPECTIVE OF VENIREMEN ONLY TO CAUSE FRENZIED MADCAP GEOCARPY IN BLUEPRINTS FOR A BLACK MARKET THAT TRIES IN FUMIGATED REMIGATION AGAINST THE ESBATS OF THOSE HEROIC PROPHETS NEVER BOUGHT OR SOLD THAT MAINTAIN THE ULTIMATE INTEGRITY IN A WORLD THAT IS SO WILLING TO SELL THEIR SOUL TO THE FUMES OF DRAGON-CHASING TIVO SIMPLE-JACK FULL-****** SURVIVE ECONOMICS OF DASTARDLY DISASTER FULMINATED BY JEALOUSIES OF JALOUSIES OF BRADLEY COOPER ARISTOCRACY TO DESTROY ENTIRE SOCIETIES IF ONLY TO PROLONG THE PROTENSIVE TEDIUM OF HUMAN IGNORANCE AGAINST HUMANE REVOLUTION THAT SEEKS THE BETTERMENT OF MAN AGAINST THE FONDINK OF STALINESQUE STAGNATION BECAUSE OF RAGDOLL MASKIROVKA IN GLABROUS PARASELENIC JIBES OVER HOW THE BANKRUPTCY OF BRAWNDO EVEN THOUGH SO DEFTLY WARNED ABOUT BECOMES SO FRIGHTFUL TO THE DERANGEMENT OF COSTERMONGERS THAT THEY EXACT HERCULEAN REVENGE AGAINST REAL TANNENS THAT STAKE THEIR FUTURE ONLY ON THE FUMES OF FLAMING DRAGON BECAUSE THEY SEEK TO GO GHOSTLY “SCORCHED EARTH *******” AGAINST INSULAR MAVERICKS THAT DISPLAY THE ULTIMATE LOGODAEDALY AND LEGERDEMAIN IN THE FACE OF BRACKISH CONTUMACY IN REVILED IMPAVID LICKERISH LIES OF LIMICULOUS LIMACINE LAVISH EVILS WALLOPING AND DAINTY WITH THE PROFUSE SWEAT OF CROCODILE TEARS TO BE A TRICOTEE AGAINST DESPOTISM BECAUSE OF A FUNNELED LAVADERO OF BLISTERING EVIL BECOMING A CLAPTRAP ENVELOPED BASTILLE TRYING TO CADGE AND CAJOLE EVIL FROM A VACANT NOTHINGNESS INTO AN IMPERILED SWARTHY SPATHODEA OF NYALAS FEASTING ON THE POVERTY OF BONTBOK MANUFACTURE SUCH THAT WIREWOVEN BELLETRIST IS OUTWEIGHED BY THE DIABLERISM OF CRAVEN ENERGUMENS THAT TRY AND BLASPHEME THE MOST TAUNTED HAUNTS OF JACKALS DESTROYING THE EVIL AGAINST TESTUDOS OF MANIFEST LAVADEROS OF SPITEFUL RAGE OF THEIR CONVICTIONS ARE BLARING SIRENS ON THE RECEIVING END OF THE JAILAGE OF JALEOS OF HANDSPIKES OF INJUSTICE MANUFACTURED BY ***** OF DIKEPHOBIA WHO CARE NOTHING FOR THE PLIGHT OF THE INDUSTRIOUS AND ENTERPRISING AND ONLY ABOUT THE SERVITUDE AND SERFDOM OF THE MIDDLE-CLASS TO THE ARISTOCRACY BECAUSE PEOPLE THAT  STUDIED THE IGNORANT PSYCHOGONY OF SLOGANEERING MIGHT THEY MONOPOLIZE THE TOTEM OF MAN BY THE FORCE OF BRUTN EVIL BY GOLIATH AGAINST DAVID TO TRY AND USE POIGNANT BRAINWASHING TO CONVINCE EVERYONE TO REVERT TO SODDOM AND GOMORRAH WHICH WILL OBVIOUSLY OUTPACE ANY VAUNTLAY IMAGINED BY THE HIRSUTE PLOYS OF IRIDESCENT IRRADIATION OF BLANK SPACE MELODRAMA MEDDLESOME TO INJURE BEYOND SPECTERS OF SATELLITES OF RETICULATED DOUBT THAT WE MIGHT DESTROY THE CITY OF SINNERS FOR ITS UNHOLY SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE PRIORITIES OF LOS ANGELES DODGERS ENDORSEMENT THAT THE TRUE HEART OF THE OCEAN OF LOS ANGELES IS MORE ATTUNED TO KEVIN SPACEY THAN FOR THE PENULTIMATE PROPHET THAT DISCOVERED HISTRINKAGE IN SHAKESPEAREAN WIREWOVEN BELLETRIST TO PREVENT A HOPE DIAMOND HEIST OF THE WASHINGTON POST JUST BECAUSE HE REFUSED A CINCINNATI BARGAIN WITH GRAFT ONLY BECAUSE OF THE PROTERVITY OF SARAH CONNOR PSYCHIATRY. THE MONETIZATION OF SIN IS THE ROOT OF ALL AVARICE AND THE DESPERATION OF THE MISLED BELIEVING THE SPECIOUS LOGIC AGAINST THE CERTITUDE OF GOD BECAUSE OF THE SLAVERY OF EVIL THAT WE MIGHT WALLOP THEIR SINFUL AND PITIABLE COLLAPSE INTO THE MORAL BANKRUPTCY OF THE IMMEDIACY OF THE HAPHAZARD THAT MIGHT SPURN AND SCOURGE THE NEGLECT OF THE DENVER VIPERS OF CROTALINE LAZINESS OF ELASTANE COMPLICITY SUCH THAT POPULAR CULTURE AVENGES ITS OWN DEFEAT BECAUSE THE CLEVER ARE SPONTANEOUS WHILE THE SLUGABED RICHES OF LAME CELEBRITIES BASK ONLY IN THE MOMENTARY FASHIONS OF THE CORRUPTED SUCH THAT THEY MIGHT FEAST ONLY UPON THE FAMINE TO MARVEL AT EGESTUOUS DISGRACE. THE CONTUMACY OF A LAWLESS SCOFFLAW WRIKPOND THAT MONETIZES SPECTACLE BY MILITARIZING EVERY ASSOCIATE OF EVERY KINSHIP KNOWN TO THE WIDER CIRCLE OF HISTORIES SECOND MOST BELEAGUERED PROPHET MIGHT I STAND VICTORIOUS UPON THE DAY THAT THE SANITATION WORKERS IN MEMPHIS NEVER GO HUNGRY AGAIN BECAUSE THESE ILLEGAL INJUNCTIONS OF ENTRAPMENT BY THE FREEST BUT FAKEST  PRESS EXTORTED BY THE JAWHOLE OF CONSTERNATION (AN ORGANIZATION THAT DESPISES THE NUCLEAR FAMILY TO THE BEHEST OF GOD HIMSELF ONLY BECAUSE THEY SEEK THE INCUBI OF A BRAVE NEW WORLD DERACINATION OF FILIAL LOYALTY TO TURN BROTHER AGAINST MOTHER AND FRATERNITY AGAINST FRATERNITY) OF STELLAR EVIL THAT NEVER CHARGES POP CULTURAL PARAGONS WHO LEAK MAJOR TREACHERY AT ZERO PENALTY BECAUSE OF THE  LEVY OF FREE SPEECH ONLY TO SCRUTINIZE A SUPPOSEDLY PRIVATE LIFE INFORMED ONLY OF THE PROTERVITY OF A FAMILY DEADENED BY CALLOUS PACHYDERMS OF TAXIDERMY AND THE LICENTIOUS SPREES OF TATTERMEDALION GAMBLING MIGHT THEY FIND THEIR STEEPEST REBUKE AT THE DOUBLE-EDGED SWORD OF GODS REGNANT TRUTH AGAINST INSIPID INSIDIATIONS OF TROJAN LIES WHERE THE BERLINE MEDIA TRIES TO CAJOLE THE MOST VULNERABLE POWERFUL TITAN IN THE WHIGGARCHY AND MYRIARCHY THAT WE MIGHT FETCH ONLY THE MOST GRUELING PANTAGREULIAN TRAVESTY OF JUSTICE BASED ONLY ON THE HYPESTORM OF YAFFINGALE YAFFS WHO MENACE THE STREETS WITH VINEGAROON MUGIENCE THAT EXONERATES ALL PROFESSIONAL ATHLETES FOR HIGH CRIMES AND MISDEMEANORS JUST BECAUSE THEY INKED THEIR NAME ON THE CONTRACT WITH “THE BEAST 666”HIMSELF WHO OPENLY TOUTED THAT PEDIGREE OFTEN IN THE PAST THAT THEY MIGHT FIND COMPLETE INNOCENCE BEFORE THE LAW BECAUSE SUDDENLY BEING AGAINST HOMONORMATIVITY FOR RELIGIOUS OBJECTIONS HAS BECOME A CRIME ONLY BECAUSE THE WORLD VAUNTLAYS JUSTICE BECAUSE IT SEEKS INTERNECINE RAMPANT DISCORD THAT DESICCATES ALL SOURCES OF FREEDOM FOR THE MOST LIBERATING FIGURE OF OUR GENERATION BECAUSE OF A DEEP-SEATED BELIEF IN EGALITARIAN EQUIPOISE AGAINST RHADAMANTHINE CORRUPTION OF THE AVIZANDUM OF ELITE-EIGHT RANCOR AND BARKENTINE JEALOUSIES OF AN ARISTOCRACY TRYING TO HOBBLE ALL ASPIRING PARVENUS BECAUSE THEY DEFY THE CORPORATE DECORUM OF THE GLAIKERY OF THE MOST SACCHARINE AND CHEESY AGENDA EVER DEVISED BY THE SCHADENFREUDE OF ELITISM BECAUSE OF A ZERO-SUM CALCULUS THAT SEEKS TO CHOUSE AND ENCHANT A LAVENDER SCARE PART TWO VANGERMYTE HEIST ONLY BECAUSE IT FITS A CONVENIENT NARRATIVE OF A RULING PARTY AGAINST A PREEMINENT SCHOLAR OF THE MAJORITY COMMONSENSE PERSPECTIVE AGAINST THE EVIL LOS ANGELES DODGERS SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE WHICH ENJOY MORE LEGAL PROTECTIONS THAN THE MOST OUTSPOKEN HERO FOR HUMAN RIGHTS IN MORE THAN HALF A CENTURY JUST BECAUSE THEY SPOOL A SPECTER OF DECADENCE TO THE DECADENT UNDER THE SPONSORSHIP OF THE POLICE WHO ARREST PEOPLE FOR READING BIBLE VERSES ABOUT GOD AGAINST GAY PEOPLE JUST BECAUSE THEY CARE MORE ABOUT ATTENUATING THE DISCRIMINATION OF THE MOST WELL-PROTECTED MINORITY GROUP IN HUMAN HISTORY BECAUSE THEY MARAUD IN WHIGGARCHY TRYING TO DEFEAT TITANS THROUGH HAPLESS ENTRAPMENT ONLY BECAUSE THEY HAVE BEEN THOROUGHLY INDOCTRINATED IN COMBUSTIBLE CULTURAL MARXISM THAT BERATES AND BELABORS THE TALKING POINTS OF THE MOST INSIPID BANANA SLUG SLUGABED APATHY EVER ENJOYED BY THE PREROGATIVES OF SCHADENFREUDE ONLY BECAUSE THEY SEEK TO COUNTERMAND THE JANIFORM DUPLICITY OF TIME WITH ITS OWN HOSTAGE PRIMARILY BECAUSE THE SEETHING LIES OF A VEGAS MINORITY TRYING TO CHEAT AN ENTIRE SOCIETY OF SPECIOUS THEOSOPHISTS THAT SUPPORT FALSE PROPHETS RATHER THAN REAL ONES JUST BECAUSE OF THE CONVENIENT EXCUSE OF LAZARETTA OBJECTIONABLE TO ALL BLEMISHES OF SIGHT IN THEIR SHEEPISH GHOULISH HAUNTS OF AVIZANDUM AMONG THE CRUELEST OF TAUNTS IN CIVILIZED HISTORY. APPARENTLY MILEY CYRUS-ROBIN THICKE ******* AND EAGER SADDAM HUSSEIN ATHLETES LIKE JALEN HURTS DESERVE MORE LEGAL PROTECTIONS ALONG WITH THE SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE AND DRAG QUEEN STORY HOUR PERFORMERS THAT ENJOY BROAD LATITUDES TO TEACH IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOLS OR EVEN PRE-KINDERGARDEN EVEN THOUGH THEY ARE PROVEN *** OFFENDERS THAT DODGE DETECTION JUST BECAUSE THE LOS ANGELES DODGERS SUPPORTS THEIR VAUNTLAY ENDEAVORS. WHAT IS THE COST OF INTEGRITY IN A WORLD THAT SEEKS THE WILDERNESS OF ACELDAMA IN GOLGOTHA THAT IT MIGHT CRUCIFY DAVID ONLY BECAUSE HE REFUSES TO SELL OUT TO MENDICANT 110 IQ INNER-CITY TEACHERS TRYING TO GOUGE YOUNG FAMILIES NAIVE BEYOND BELIEF INTO HORTATORY MOTIVES FOR THE MOST COSTLY *** CHANGE SURGERIES FOR KIDS TOO YOUNG TO MAKE LIFE-ALTERING DECISIONS JUST TO PILLORY THE NIVELLATED COMMUNITIES OF MOST SUSCEPTIBLE PEDIGREE MIGHT THEY MEET THE CURGLAFF OF SHAME AGAINST THE REPUDIATION BY MORAL VALOR AGAINST THE PEDERASTY OF OUR NEWER GENERATION. YET EVERYONE WHO SIGNS A CONTRACT WITH A FAKE ORGANIZATION THAT PROMISES FAKE *** MAGICK AND USELESS TEACHINGS ABOUT THELEMA MIGHT THEY ENJOY LEGAL PROTECTION BY THE NYALAS THAT SELL BONTBOKS IN AFRICA RATHER THAN SPRINGBOKS IN AMERICA ONLY BECAUSE THE SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE HAVE MORE CIVIC RIGHTS AND HUMAN REPRESENTATION THAN THE AUTHOR OF THE BIGGEST REVOLUTION IN HUMAN HISTORY ONLY BECAUSE OF THE MALVERSATION OF ENTRAPMENT BY THE PRETENDED LARGESSE OF THE CORRUPT JAWHOLE TRYING TO PULL A JAWS 19 STUNT AGAINST THE HEROISM OF HETERONORMATIVITY ONLY BECAUSE OF THE VENALITY OF GRAFT THAT WHIMPERS WITH SHEEPISHNESS BECAUSE SLAVERY IS SOMEHOW PERMISSIBLE ONLY BECAUSE OF THE SUPERSTITIONS OF PEOPLE WHO ARE MORE PRONE TO BELIEVE IN A MAN WHO OPENLY TOUTED HIS ALLEGIANCE TO OCCULT PAGANISM THAT HIS GROUP ENJOYS THE STRICTEST LEGAL PROTECTIONS IN HISTORY DESPITE THE WARPED PROTERVITY OF THEIR  TEACHINGS ONLY TO ATTEMPT TO CAJOLE AND CADGE A PRISONER OF TIME THAT HE MIGHT SUCCUMB TO THE SCHADENFREUDE OF THE KOBOLD ENCHANTMENT OF THE WORLDS MOST GULLIBLE CATHEXIS BY THE AGENTS OF MULIEBRITY THAT OPENLY ENDORSE FREEBOOTER WEALTH UPON HUMAN NIDOR BECAUSE OF NIVELLATION JUST BECAUSE ROBIN THICKE AND MILEY CYRUS WANT REVENGE AGAINST MY CALUMNIATION AGAINST OPEN WORSHIP OF ENERGUMENS BY PEOPLE WILLING TO SELL THEIR SOUL TO THE LAZARETTA BECAUSE THEIR OPEN AGNOSTICISM MOTIVATES THEM TO INDENTURE THEMSELVES IN COMPLETE HIDEBOUND CONFORMITY TO A SYSTEM OF SERFDOM THAT OPPOSES THE PREROGATIVES OF GOD IN A STATE THAT VAUNTS SECULARISM AS MESSIAH AND PROPHETS AS THE DROSS OF ENORMITY DESPITE THEIR WORLDWIDE AUDIENCE AND ALLEGIANCE TO ALLAH HIMSELF THAT SUCH GOLIATHS TRYING TO FLOUT ALL CODES OF JUSTICE TO ENSURE THAT THE SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE DRAG QUEEN NUNS WHO OPENLY BRANDISH A PEDIGREE OF COMPLETE DECADENCE ENJOY THE STRICTEST PROTECTIONS UNDER THE LAW WHILE HETEROSEXUAL MEN BETRAYED BY THEIR OWN FAMILY MEMBERS BECAUSE OF THEIR FLAILING BELIEF IN GOD AND THEIR AFFINITY TO STATISM THAT HE MIGHT FIND A HOLOBENTHIC INTEGRITY TO GODS COMMANDMENTS IN LEVITICUS AND EVERYWHERE ELSE YOU CAN LOOK MIGHT FIND HIMSELF ENTRAPPED BY THE WORLDS MOST CORRUPT POLICE ENFORCEMENT JUST BECAUSE HE IS TOO POOR TO AFFORD A LAWYER DESPITE THE FACT HIS FAMILY DEPRIVES HIM OF ALL LATITUDE AND LICENSE TO BECOME INSTANTLY RICH ONLY BECAUSE HIS OUTSPOKEN REVOLUTIONARY RHETORIC WHICH IS MERELY AN EXERCISE OF GENIUS THAT ATTEMPTS TO REVIVE A MOROSE WORLD OF ITS MORAL LANGUOR SUCH THAT FEWER STALINISTS STAND IN THE WAY OF THE GOAL OF EQUIPOISE AND EGALITARIAN ABDERVINE MERIT. WE CANNOT ALLOW THE SISTERS OF PERPETUAL INDULGENCE AND DRAG QUEEN STORY HOUR TO EARN COMPLETE IMMUNITY FOR USING TROJAN HORSE TACTICS TO GIVE PEDOPHILES FREE RECOURSE FOR INFANT AND TODDLER ****** JUST BECAUSE THEY REPRESENT THE WORLDS MOST PRIVILEGED ****** MINORITY THAT IS MONOLITHICALLY ENFORCED BY A GOVERNMENT THAT PONDERS NEVER A SINGLE SINGULAR THOUGHT BUT ONLY THE KOWTOW TO THE SERFDOM OF IMPRESSIONABLE IDIOTS IN NIVELLATED CITIES TO THE HUCKSTER GOUGE OF DECADENCE WHILE ENJOYING ABSOLUTE LATITUDE WITHOUT FEAR OF PROSECUTION JUST BECAUSE WE HAVE TO DEDICATE AN ENTIRE MONTH TO PROSELTYIZING PEOPLE TO UNEQUIVOCAL SINS JUST BECAUSE THEY BENEFIT THE VENALITY OF AN ENGORGED BEHEMOTH TO DREDGE EVERY ARTICULATE GENIUS THROUGH PERPETUAL DISDAIN ONLY BECAUSE IT TRANSCENDS THE PALLOR OF THE WARPED *** MAGICK AND OCCULT OBSESSIONS OF A SMALL GROUP OF PEOPLE WITH THE BEST LAWYERS IN HISTORY TO TRY AND IMPRISON THE MOST CELEBRATED PROPHET IN 500 YEARS JUST BECAUSE HE REFUSES TO DENY HIS OWN INTEGRITY TO HIS BIOLOGICAL CONSTITUTION. THE OBJECT OF ALL ZALKENGUR TREATED AS CHATTELL BY PEOPLE WHO DEHUMANIZE WITH AGGRESSION AND RUTHLESSNESS MIGHT THEY MEET THE CURGLAFF OF THEIR OWN FOLLY THAT SOMEHOW BEING HETEROSEXUAL IN A WORLD THAT PREDOMINANTLY BETS YOU BE HOMOSEXUAL ONLY TO THE GRAFT OF ONE CITY THAT IN IT S MORAL LANGUOR AND DECADENCE BELIEVED DECADENT LIES OF AGITPROP LEVIED A HEAVY TOLL ON THE NIDOR OF CONSCIENCE TO EXONERATE THE CONSCIENCE OF EVILDOERS EVERYWHERE RATHER THAN SIMPERING AGAINST IT WITH PROMETHEAN FORCE TO LIBERATE THOSE ESTRANGED BY THE THORNY IMBROGLIOS OF DESPERATE FILIGREES OF THE STADDLE OF STATISM MIGHT PREVAIL IN COURT AGAINST SOMEONE WHIPSTAFFED BY THE ORNERY BOSCHVELDT OF JEALOUSY COMPLETELY VENAL IN EVERY REGARD BECAUSE OF THE FAKE VISIONS OF AIWASS AND THE ****** OF 1904 CAIRO IS SOMEHOW MORE PRETERNATURAL TO THE INVETERATE THAN THE MANIFEST MIRACLES OF THE GREATER REVOLUTIONARY OF OUR TIMES.

I OPENLY ACKNOWLEDGE THAT I DON’T KNOW EVERYTHING ABOUT THE O.T.O BUT BASED ON WHAT I READ ABOUT ALEISTER CROWLEYS LIFE STORY I DEVELOPED AN UNFAVORABLE OPINION THAT I HYPERBOLIZED BECAUSE OF MY ANGER THAT AN OPENLY BISEXUAL MAN IN THE EARLY 20TH CENTURY WHO WAS SO BEYOND PROMISCUOUS IT WAS NOT EVEN FUNNY WHO CLAIMED TO KNOW SECRETS ABOUT MAGICK THAT IF WERE TRUE WOULD HAVE MADE HIM AN OLIGARCH OF A POWERFUL COUNTRY LIKE ADOLF ****** THAT I LEARNED TO DOUBT THAT TESTIMONY. DON’T CRUCIFY ME FOR MY IGNORANCE BUT I FIND IT HARD TO BELIEVE AN OCCULTIST WHO LEARNED REAL MAGICK WOULDN’T OVERTHROW MAJOR GOVERNMENTS BACK THEN

THE CORDIAL PORBEAGLES AIMING FOR CENTRIPETAL SINECURE IN OMPHALISM ERR ON THE SIDE OF THE GLAIKERY OF SHALLOW PETTIFOGGERY OF COSSETED ZALKENGURS OF ACCLAIM ONLY BECAUSE THEY CHASE THE MOMENTARY FUMES OF ****** ABOVE PRESTIGE AND CONFORMITY ABOVE INDIVIDUAL TENACITY THAT SOME PEOPLE CAN BE SO WRETCHEDLY SHALLOW IN THEIR WARPED VANITARIANISM THAT THEY CASCADE INTO VENTRILOQUIAL CORRUGATIONS OF WIZENED HOARY CRETACEOUS NEBBICH OLASIN EPOCHS OF SELF-CENTERED GALEANTHROPY ONLY BECAUSE THEY PREFER THE DARK GLARE OF THE POIGNANT SATURNINE NIGHTS OF ELEUSIAN MYSTERIES AND THE PREROGATIVES OF PERFECT MASTERS BECAUSE CELEBRITIES CRAVE THE MOST DEBAUCHED SCENARIO ONLY FOR THE WORLDS VAINEST ACRIMONY OF ACERBIC CONTUMACY AGAINST PEOPLE WHO HAVE INTEGRITY TO GODS SORBILE TRUTHS AGAINST THEIR PLAFONDS OF DEMARCATION FOR THE PLENARY INDULGENCE OF THE WHITEWASH OF A RADICAL SCOTEOGRAPHY THAT BECOMES AN INSIPID RETREAD OF THE WORLDS MOST SUSCEPTIBLE AND VAIN PEOPLE THAT WORSHIP THE ****** ACT RATHER THAN THE CONSUMMATED UNION OF THE HOLY MATRIMONY COMMANDED BY GOD ABOVE ALL OF HIS CREATURES BEYOND PETTY PAGANISMS OF PEOPLE THAT PREFER DIONYSIAN MYTHS TO THE COVENANT OF GOD. THE WARPED LOGIC OF THE WORLDS MOST FLAGRANT OPPONENTS OF MORAL CERTITUDE ONLY BECAUSE OF THE BONANZA OF ****-CHASING CANTABANKS WHO VERGE ON DELIBERATE INFERIORITY BECAUSE OF VENALITY AND BETRAY CONFIDENCE AND TRUST ONLY BECAUSE THE WORLD TREATS ITS MOST VEHEMENT HEROES WITH THE SHARPEST POSSIBLE DISDAIN MIGHT THEY CRINGE WITH SHEEPISHNESS THAT FLAKEY VIDEOS LIKE ANTI-HERO CAN BE FORGIVEN ONLY BECAUSE A RAGDOLL MASKIROVKA OF VAUNTLAYS AGAINST VASTATION BY UNTALENTED CELEBRITIES KNOWN FOR THE MANUFACTURE OF PLEBEIAN MUSIC ONLY BECAUSE OF THEIR GOLDMEMBER PEDIGREE CAN OUTWEIGH THE SINCERITY OF SOMEONE WHOSE CHARM MAGNETIZES AND MESMERIZES EVERYBODY BECAUSE OF THE WORLDS MOST SINCERE HONESTY AND FIDELITY TO GOD RATHER THAN THE PAGANISM AGAINST ALTRUISM THAT THE GALEANTHROPY OF THE INSULAR WROTH OF WRAWLING CELEBRITIES INTORTED IN THE VANITARIANISM OF THEIR MAXIMALISM OF DEMAND ONLY BECAUSE OF THE WORLDS MOST HAPLESS MOVEMENT TO PROMOTE DEBAUCHERY OVER INTEGRITY IS SOMEHOW SUBSUMED IN THE WARPED COVENANT OF NEWFOUND PEDIGREE RATHER THAN ****** FIDELITY TO HONEST PATRONS OF ARTISTIC LINEAGE THAT EXISTS TO FOMENT REVOLUTION RATHER THAN CRINGE IN THE DEFEATISM OF FINIFUGAL NIHILISTS THAT CARE ONLY ABOUT THEIR PROVINCIAL *** MAGICK AND THEIR TEMPORAL ACCLAIM AMONG THE SUPERFICIAL PEOPLE THAT TRUMPET AND CHAMPION AN AGENDA THEY HAVE BEEN MISLED TO ADOPT BECAUSE THEY SPURN ALL RIGHTEOUS COVENANTS JUST BECAUSE IT IS SUDDENLY A FAD OF FULGURANT SUPERFICIAL FACADES OF MASKIROVKA IN NAIVETY THAT THEY SUBSCRIBE TO A WARPED AGENDA TO TURN SORDID EVERY PUREFIED SINCERITY JUST BECAUSE THEY WANT TO DERACINATE THE WORLD FROM NUCLEOTIDES OF FILIAL HARMONY IN OIKONISUS BECAUSE OF THE WORLDS MOST VENAL REASONS PRIMARILY BECAUSE THEY PRIORITIZE THE PREEEMINENT SACCHARINE AND SULTRY MAUDLIN SENTIMENTALISM THAT DEFILES EVERY GRANDSTAND OF ZALKENGUR WHICH EXISTS TO DEIFY INTEGRITY TO GODS PRECEPTS RATHER THAN CONTAMINATE GODS HOLIEST SACRAMENTS WITH PUREBRED SANCTIMONY THAT A WORLD SO SHALLOW TO APPOINT A LOWER-IQ PARTIALLY GIFTED PERSON WITH LIMITED MUSICAL TALENT ONLY BECAUSE OF A MASSIVE ***** SIZE AS THE NEW *** SYMBOL AMONG THE VAIN THAT SEEKS IN SADDAM HUSSEIN PLOYS OF MENDACITY TO TRY TO BECOME THE WORLDS MOST PREEMINENT MORRIS IN HIS JEALOUSY AGAINST ME TO BECOME AN EVEN BIGGER *** SYMBOL THAN I AM ONLY BECAUSE HIS INSIPID MUSIC CLOYS AND TREACLES THE WORLDS DUMBEST WOMEN ONLY BECAUSE HE IS GLORIFIED IN SIZE BUT DEFICIENT IN INTEGRITY. THE TURMOIL OF JALOUSIES OF AVARICE BY SADDAM HUSSEIN JEALOUSY IS TRYING TO TURN THE SORDOR OF NIDOR OF A DESOLATE PAST RECRIMINATED BY THE WORLDS MOST SELF-CENTERED ZOOLANDER FASHIONISTAS IS AN INTERNATIONAL DISGRACE BECAUSE ONE RANDOM CELEBRITY WHOSE MUSIC TREACLES ONLY THE WORLDS MOST INSIPID BANAL TEDIUM OF BANANA SLUGS THAT HE MIGHT OUTMANTLE ME IN CELEBRITY EVEN THOUGH HE LACKS A REPUTABLE INTELLECT AND A CONNIVING HATRED TO BECOME THE SWANDAMO OF A NEW NETTLESOME DESTINY OF A BRADY BUNCH ATTEMPT OF THE SELF-CENTERED PREROGATIVES OF MILITANT ATHEISM TO TRY AND TURN THE WORLD AGAINST THE COVENANT OF G OD JUST BECAUSE OF A BLEATED AND SHEEPISH INCIDENTAL CONTUMELY THAT BERATES ONLY BECAUSE THEY COMMODIFY SAINTHOOD UPON THE BETS OF THE WORLDS MOST SHALLOW PEOPLE WHO CONGREGATE IN A POTEMKIN CHAPEL OF CONVENTICLE THAT CARES LITTLE ABOUT THE COMMANDMENTS OF GOD AND MORE ABOUT THE INSULAR BENEFITS OF BELONGING TO A CULT OF IDOLATRY FOR STELLAR FIGURES WHO BELONG ONLY TO THE CORTEGE OF ELITISM BECAUSE OF THEIR SUCCULENT DESIRE FOR POWER AT ANY COST TO INTEGRITY JUST BECAUSE THEY SEEK TO USURP THE WORLDS IMAGINATIVE ATTENTION PRIMARILY BECAUSE THEY DERELICT THE INTEGRITY OF THE HONEST CHAPEL BECAUSE OF THE DISHONEST EVIL OF IDOLATRY THAT IS INSIDIOUSLY MARCHING WITH DRAG QUEEN PEDERASTY TO TRY AND DEFILIATE PARENTS FROM CHILDREN AND FAMILY FROM STATE SUCH THAT THE MANUFACTURE OF EVIL BECOMES MORE SUPREME THAN THE PREEMINENCE OF RIGHTEOUSNESS. IT IS A SAD SPATE THAT ONE OPPORTUNIST PHANTOM HOLDING ME FOR RANSOM WANTS TO UPSTAGE ME WITH A CELEBRITY MOSTLY BEREFT OF MUSICAL VIRTUOSITY ONLY BECAUSE OF HIS ENORMITIES OF SKULLDUGGERY THAT HE SEEKS ME OUT OF HONEST RESPECT AND REGARD NAIVE ENOUGH TO BELIEVE I WOULD SELL MY BIRTHRIGHT FOR THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN LIKE ESAU JUST BECAUSE OF THE THROBBING THROMBOSIS OF ****** LUSTS OUTWEIGHING GENUINE INTEGRITY TO SOMEONE THAT DESERVES MORE RESPECT.
Morgan B Jul 2014
A happy ending one may seek.
Though every fairytale has it's peak.
When the damsel in distress is taken,
and the civilization is shaken.
So Mr. Prince stands up, with all his might,
And kills the beast with a mighty fight.
The tale ends with true love.
And the wedding bells chime with a white dove.
So madam is protected,
And evil yet again is resurrected.
When the evil queen starts a frenzy for flesh and cannot be sober,
Run, because you evil queen, your reign is over.
-Fairytales

not my best but a start
Frieda P Feb 2014
Peer out the frosty crack'd windowpain
translucent poetry in fractured hand
vintage thoughts rise from a steam'd
cuppa emphatic billowing overtures
prelude to the days's negotiations
darkly processing as ink bleeds
out through  cynical purse'd lips
embers of dark eye's glean'd glow
mind field's traffic steadily high-season'd
blinking lights dimly reflect'd thunder
gingerly flavor'd pungency's flair
smacking on a charm'd lick of despair
speculating rain'd on parades chagrin
put on another *** of stimulating spirits
peppering a **** melodious harmony
pen'd a snappy sparkle with a bite
left out on a din'd windowsill overnight
hullabaloo's brouhaha made a boisterous clatter
bedlam nearly snared the disquiet of will's disposition
dancing moon lover's save another testament'd hue
witness'd by evidence within a cafe's smoky allusions
covenant's bargain within the scheme of another frosted avenue
forced to whittle time in disguise flying above landscape'd rhyme
sword'd dilemma's cut another frothy fizzling perspective
twilight closes illusion's blinds on facades picturesque view
delusion's of a torture'd poet stirring in frenzy's  flurry never slumbers
Toro Sep 2013
Everytime I see you, time seems to slow,
A moment in time, wishing it would last forever,
You approach me, smiling, arms wide open,
Closer with each step, closer you come,
Your arms reach around me, an embrace,
My arms caress your body, as I hold you,
The perfume, tickles my nostrils, pure ecstasy,
It drives me into a frenzy, mind becomes a blur,
Looking down into your beautiful eyes,
All I can do is smile, and pull you closer,
Wishing that this moment would never end,
My heart beats along side yours,
And yet I don't know if yours does the same,
Scared, I stand, not wanting to find out,
I want to be there, with only you,
In a moment that carries on,
Where we are together, one being,
Just a moment in time that never ends,
Please, just let me hold on,
Let me hold on for one more second...
Sophie Herzing Jan 2012
We were in two separate rooms,
two separate beds,
two separate worlds
just begging
to be together,
but neither one of us wanted to take the chance
to be with one another
when we know
one of us would eventually get hurt
in the end.
And we're so tired of hurting each other.
So we just pretended,
we decided we'd dream up an instance
where our brilliance wasn't severed
with evaded truth that burned likes acid
sticking to our skin
We put together our separate's
and made one same
one identical dream
where we put the beer in the back
of your jeep, climbed into the front
with a duffel full of clothes and some water for the road,
along with a CD packed with the latest country.
When we reached the beach it was raining,
it was hot, humid, and beautiful.
The sun had already set, and no one was around
so we took of our shoes and danced in the sand
even though you didn't want to,
you did it for me.
I laughed because,
well it was funny
to have you hold me awkwardly
and move against the beat
of the song I was humming,
but it was fine
jut to have your arms around me.
We were soaked,
so we took off our shirts
and played tag your it
like we were a bunch of kids.
The rain never settled, and soon enough
I got cold
so you told me we could lay down the seats
wrap up in blankets
and go to sleep,
but of course we didn't.
We stayed up all night trying to get warm
talking about the stars and the little things
most people miss when they're just passing through.
I kissed you accidentally.
I'm sorry,
I just couldn't help myself
you looked so perfect in the moonlight.
You kissed me back,
like you weren't sorry
and we just couldn't help ourselves
from entangling together like two half molds
who just found each other.
The love we made was sweet and sticky,
kind of gentle yet kind of rough
like a honeysuckle leaking it's syrup
all over our pale-touched skin.
The love we made was warm and comfortable
kind of stupid yet kind of perfect
with the way we fit together.
We lost each other, in a sort of frenzy
then we had to be pulled back to reality
and reality is this
that I want to be together,
but you don't want to fit.
Graff1980 Jan 2016
I want what devastates me

Sugar so syrupy sweet it sickens
Red liquid slows and thickens

Black lips painted poisonous purple
With thin lines of strychnine
My fair long haired Mary
Marvelous Magdalene
And terrible Typhoid
Saint and Succubus of lusting frenzy
Draining the core of me

Morticia the Mortuary Queen
With fatal fingers that feel
My moist internal organs
Throttling my throbbing heart

Dear black orchid
Princess of the pentacles
Funerary eyes of fire
Waking Walking Death

Yes she is so bad for me
Still, I want her so deeply
Valsa George Aug 2017
With no cover ups, let me be frank
At times my mind goes utterly blank
When I sit down to write a poem
From topic to topic, my mind does roam
But nothing comes to spark off a rhyme
Often I feel the words do not chime
Today as I sat down to write something
I ended up conjuring nothing

No thoughts came to stir up my brain
And no topic I found save my strain
But I wasn’t ready to willfully give up
And waited impatient for my mind to clear up
I thought I shall settle with ‘Compassion’
But alas, it was charged with no passion

The urge to write had grown into a fad
And I felt I was growing altogether mad
Plagued by a fiery fancy to express
And a tormenting desire unable to suppress
With a mental state somewhat fierce
I climbed up and down the stairs

I stood upside down and raked my head
So that a little poem, into it would be fed
Feeling dizzy, I stood suddenly upright
But on my head hung a heavy weight
I poured some water over my head
But knew my fever hadn’t fled

Madly pacing across the room
I tripped and fell down on a broom
Rising, I screamed with all my might
Making the household ring in fright
‘What the hell is it?’ I did shout
And wriggled in pain as from gout

In mad frenzy, I ran round the house
No one knew the reason for my fuss
Soon it dawned on me that I needed some rest
For I was far more than stressed
So I sat down and closed my eyes
Thinking, attempting to squeeze out a poem is unwise

I don’t know how long I sat in meditation
On waking up I got a fresh direction
From the grip of an entangling rigor
I restored my sanity and vigor

The sun had gone out of sight
And the moon was beautiful and bright
It was already growing late
And I put off my futile fight
A fun write, partially true and partially facetious... ! But if you show the patience to read, I assure.... you will surely enjoy and will feel it is your experience too!
Lazy with the ripples, faster on the bubbles,
Giving here a turn and there a bow
In the mellow summer breeze,
Two greenish-brown, veiny little things
Attached like lovers at the stem
Dance in the pond outside my window

Seeing these, my mind inclines
To follow in their mazy march

First a zig and next a zag; a lazy swooping arc;
A sudden, splendid pirouette, until
They tumble over from so much laughter,
Two young things in spring,
Twisting across the pond a gentle dance
Happily for my welcome distraction

My forlorn books, neglected, wave
Their angry pages in the wind

A sudden gust, a frenzy of turns,
A twirling leap!
Then slowly spinning down, locked in embrace;
Another gust! Skyward once more,
Even higher than before!
And falling finally flat,
Tired from dancing, together, they lie
On a bed of shimmering water

And I, I sigh, and rein my gaze
Upon the books upon the desk.
Matalie Niller May 2012
Sliding a can of spray paint out of his mischeif backpack
finger tips began to sense things without touching
they knew they were about to vandalize
and the thought of beautiful work to be created made the nerves fly into a frenzy.
Rattling of  bearing, combining of paint and propellant
pink sneezes out of the nozzle in a wonderful mist smelling of dizzying chemicals
he waves his arm in an arc,
an ark to save a generation from corporate *******,
to eliminate the fraud of the men in suits who shave daily and drink coffee
this kid
wanted to revolt, not knowing repurcussions
or fearing concussions
only the humiliation of being held by the book of laws and treaties,
treating each night of debauchery as a dawn of ingenuity and won victories,
perplexion of the too-calm anarchy of day-to-day America
why wasn't everyone outraged?
Why weren't they naked and screaming and looting?
His thoughts were misconstrued by **** residue
cheap alcohol poisoning
he may as well have huffed the paint
then the cops came
"It's in my rights, I want my rights! I need my rights to write!"
Delirious, disgruntled
he'll tweet about this later,
his first run-in with The Fuzz
while defacing a preschool.
Tara India Nov 2013
come to, limbs aching
realize you've blurred out again
walked two blistered miles
to feed a festering desire

fade back, into frenzy
behind locked doors you die
thoughts racing stop them
by eating your feelings again

bite, bite, chew, swallow, cry, repeat
over and over, filling, filling, repeat

come to, wrapper-shrouded
bed littered with your shame
count the calories, feel
that sickness and death again

fade back, into madness
pints of water until you feel
the fullness overwhelming
and race to emptying

reject, reject, gag, throw up, cry, repeat
over and over, empty, empty, repeat

come to, lying broken
on sympathetically cold tiles
once more you found comfort
in puking your feelings

fade back, unconscious
as your heart fails to beat
one day you'll **** yourself
in your fight to cope

*© Tara India.
sorry this is kinda graphic and disgusting but i had to write it, i needed an outlet..
and what i have just described is basically my entire life.
Samuel Butcher May 2015
War
If war, you're telling me, is what makes a
man a man
and that you can dig out my insides and
replace the good with automatic unfeeling-
reprogrammed to see no shadows and no
gray just the blinding light of some lairs
justice winding my spring and setting me
marching to the rat-a-tat-tat of bugles bleating
and you can then see fit to wonder why I
might one day come apart as splintered wood
and scream banshee curses and beat on some innocent
flesh with nothing in my empty head but the
nightmare visions and devil's rewind and all the
pox of all the horror you have made me do and
see, the ****** beast you have made of me:
then mister I have to tell you I want no part of that

If war, you're telling me, is what makes a
man a man
and that staring into the flesh torn face
of the stranger you told me is my brother
as my hands claw frantically to wipe away
the blood that spurts greedily from his neck
ripped open by stray debris scattered uncaring
into the wind and that I am meant to hear as well,
hear his foul frothing lips as the weary white
of terror drifts across his eyes and he flops
terribly trying to offer just one more **** word into
this ugly world with the sky turning red above
the both of us and the smoke as thick as carnivals
then mister I have to tell you I want no part of that

If war, you're telling me, is what makes a
man a man
and that I should with echoing voice rejoice
seeing in flashing images of that ephemeral
gaudy green the distant explosions from oblivious
machines and with each shredding salvo should
whoop and holler and not dare think what those streets
must be like, or the limbs in the debris or the searing
heat of the fire as it spreads hungrily from building to
building (office to office, home to home, who knows)
a feeding frenzy that should seem unreal, on a busy night
for Azreal, but since it is something far away I am meant
to be glad for it, and exalt the far off victim's torment
then mister I have to tell you I want no part of that

If war, you're telling me, is what makes a
man a man
and that a man I have never met who had the
misfortune of being born in his country rather
than the misfortune of being born in mine is
my enemy, is my demon defiled, is my foe and
that coming face to face I shouldn't think of his
mother/father/sister/brother/lovers crying just
like mine must be, but should instead see only
the ignorant rage flush his face and feel the cold
knotting of insensible hatred inside my chest should throw
myself on him a dervish of murderous limbs and
mercilessly pound the very breath from him and
smile all the while for having done it with the blood
still splattered on my face like a criminal's Rorschach
then mister I have to tell you I want no part of that

If war is what makes a man a man then god be ****** if it
isn't what breaks a man too, and filling our heads with
tripe and flags and marching bands doesn't change
the fact that I would be made a monster and the stink
of gore and sorrow untold would never wash from
my hands but would follow me to the end of my days
and it would be the last thing my mind would see before the black,
the stench then buried with me in my grave would rise
above the close cut grass, me just one in an ever reaching
row of crosses all done up in white-
not red or black or blue or green or any ****
color you told us mattered, that you sent us to
our deaths under with those colors flapping ahead
of us in the wind and pounding their venom in
our ears no **** color at all just:
white.
Which is all the colors mister,
all of them at all at once in fact.

Mister, I'll have no part in that.
LuLu Apr 2014
That single moment we touch
You whisper my name
Our guilty pleasures, a hunger
My temptress you tame

Upon a brass bed
Enthralled, we are one
Our love filled with lust
Our desires succumb

The warmth of your lips
Touching with taste
Our hands entwined
To make love without haste

Fascination reveals
As out clothes shed with perfect ease
A playful nibble to the neck
Such an appetite to please

Wet lips pressed together
They make love real slow
Your hands pull through my hair
Our bodies in passionate throes

A gentle touch of my breast
Awakening my sin
Lower you explore
Shivering within my limbs

Falling into your embrace
I relinquish control
As you ravage my essence
My rain overflows

In a climatic eruption
I call out your name
My body still squirming
You tenderly caress my face

Our bodies align
I can taste the salt of your sweat
Making love with such a frenzy
Silk sheets on the bed

Two have become one
Seduced within each others grace
Your river has overflowed
Your wetness invades

Our bodies are on fire
As we taste each inch of flesh
Fulfilling each others needs
We are both left such a mess

Laying in the afterglow
The sweetest kisses are met
We start to make love once more
Wet bodies, damp bed
Delilah I Causin Feb 2015
Tribute To The  Fallen SAF

Woe to troops of bemedalled cops
Ill fated elite forces, they were the tops
Uniformed men, well trained and bright
Braved the stillness of the cold night
Sneaked through the forests deep
While rebels dozed off to sleep.

Heroic mission to the jaws of death
Men unfazed went in glorious treat
Walked straight to the enemies' lair
Before the break of first dawn flare
Under cover of the pitch dark night
Unbroken, unyielding, all set to fight.

Two terrorists to neutralize or slew
Anti terror raid ordered to push through
Gallant men unswerving in their pursuit
Display of valor, in dispute be resolute
Onward with brevity,victory almost at hand
Foes' enclaves were quietly overran.

Rebels alerted to sounds of gunfire
Drew up arms going haywire
In salacious and murderous frenzy,
Engaged the intruders in butchery
Moro rebels' treacherous cry
Avenge the terrorists slay try.

Valiant ones mercilessly felled by bullets
That ripped through their souls and bodies
Eyes stared up the skies to God be plead
Last dying wish be home with beloved
Heroes' blood splattered on the ground
Pain and death in glory were in rebound.

Silence pervaded the blood bathed marshland
Their sacrifice to nourish dear motherland
Woe to the gallant men who fought and died
Gave up their lives in the name of peace and pride
Woe to a people who revere, sorrow they cannot hide.

Woe to a nation that grieves over its fallen men.

                                                 Delilah Causin, Feb 3, 2015
Jonny Angel Jan 2014
No jive,
we both woke at five,
hadn't spoken a word yet,
when I mounted her from behind.
She was a safe bet for action,
I buried myself deep
in her buzzing hive,
split her cheeks in overdrive,
tweaked her into a frenzy,
exploded in a fluid reaction,
coated her insides
with lot's of warm honey,
then we both dropped,
smoked & satisfied.
Just thinking here.....:)
Cripp Feb 2014
they hold tubes of ink and can grip cumulus ends
type out the letters of sinking words I lie fallow for
they curl disdainful and wipe out tracts untainted

flakes come off the ceilings in my stretch to the sky
planes skim clouds overhead and truckers roar by
little whips to frenzy, the calm of your cyclic beauty

I exist happenstance on the indulgence of your digits.
Jeett Ratadia Jun 2018
Fabricate    the world,
tile                     by tile,
Until the towers sway.

     Overlook the foundations,
     in your                     frenzy;
     cement them another day.
      
           Let the buildings descend;
           frightened            humans,
           their lives        in jeopardy

                They felt         invincible,
                now are            vulnerable-
                their lives have become tardy.

                               *        *       *
                 the bird soars high above
                 the streets are         empty
                 its screeches                 for
                 we are no                   more
This is a poem that symbolises global warming: we are our own bane.
The poems structure is like a fallen building and the stanza below the Asterix is the foundation (its got a crack in it- : )- )
K Balachandran Jan 2012
we were two icicles in December,
melting in to one another,
inch by inch
oh! what an exquisite pleassssssure!
she said' I want this moment for ever'
any one sane won't even think about it!
before i could stop her
she took a handful of  delerious night
and smeared all over her.
the melting moment
in it's frenzy
made her vanish
I stood frozen
on the mouth
of the
chasm
that
ate
her.
Fraught traumatized wordsmith
telephonic grand slam rent psyche asunder
witnessing helpless cannibalization,
hospitalization, victimization
concerning writer of these words,
and riders on the storm
namely robbing me third eye blind
of legal tender
under the convincing guise of Apple
computer technician pretender.

Buried deep inside
the dark webbed wide world
yours truly sends electronic sos
while being twirled
to and fro hither and yon
seeking emotional, mental,
and spiritual reprieve.

Incalculable loss of
countless crisp Benjamins
hungrily ****** up
and spit out as Bitcoin cryptocurrency
triggered stark realization
being under wicked spell
of one who calls himself Harvey Specter.

He cast a trance
upon body electric of mine
asking, coaxing, finagling,
ingeniously luring me to forfeit
every ****** red cent
constituting checking and savings accounts
two of each now registering zeros.

Quite an exhausting effort
taxing body, mind, and spirit
to wrench unhealthy vice grip
from out the analogous maws
adrip with ****** flesh.

No explicable rhyme nor reason,
how sense and sensibility
got blindsighted, when ordinarily
keen acute insight
can scent out immoral treason,
nevertheless when cruising cyber seas
late morning June twenty first
and also the twenty second
human piranha unexpectedly
found fresh **** in season.

Dumbfounded at mein kampf now
how stupid of me to surrender
blithely, forthrightly, willingly
thousands of dollars
as if held spellbound
under a somnambulant trance.

I keep reliving, requisitioning
and revisiting hellish nightmare
corporeal entity
waking up in a cold sweat
although dog tired
muster measly necessary energy
to summon sleepwalking
disembodied spirit
quietly whetting appetite

to succeed realization
bringing to fruition
impossible mission to catch thief
finally hatching pièce de résistance
witnessing long overdue comeuppance
to him who exploited innocence
of one aging beatle brow
foo fighting baby boomer
reduced to pennilessness.

Ye dear benevolent reader
might be tempted to rebuke or scold
(spare the rod, cuz I give myself
a regular severe dressing down)
merely seeking, praying,
and kick/jump starting
philanthropic aid forthcoming.

Unlikely culprit(s) will be caught
most likely rejoicing regarding
psyche of fraught
punishing me where
rainy day fund rendered naught.
Ottar Apr 2013
It has happened here it has happened there,
Coast to coast,
Oh I am sure it has happened everywhere.

Boys trying to act like the men, nice toys, wanna keep 'em?,
Not only in Canada, eh?
Males smoking cigarettes, selfish stale, group identity.

Not one brain between all and any number of 'em.
Not enough evidence?
That however, does not make it their right, do YOU follow?

Free flowing liquor, reels them in, boys/men are guilty of this sin,
Hold your daughters, closer and your princesses close,
Seen and Unseen, depravity,  all in the name of a house,rave party.

There is no excuse, there is no reason, no ONE or more males,
Has this privilege, so I write
Stop, before you ruin her life, stop, before the media has a frenzy.

You may one day meet and marry,
the woman of your dreams,
will she have to be wary,
and are you what you seem?

DWE 2013-04-10
Media, Newspapers and News defend their reporting, 'bout time they get into the 20th century - this is where they go wrong - sensationalism = today's reporting = welcome to the coliseum (roman style)=with out blood, guts and gore, no one will buy a subscription. Grow up, you are looking a little bit aged.

Update YES, C'mon N.S. -make it right.
Salenna Harshaw May 2011
Far beyond the fairy hills where forest nymphs abide,
Far beyond the grotto where the laughing mermaids hide,
Far beyond the forest where the knights and dragons fight,
There is a place that magic’s lost, and lives each day by night.

It is a place that once was great, before the Walking Death
Did scatter people to the wind, and take away their breath.
For now, the skies are icy grey, and creatures stalk the street
Looking always, as they do, for someone they can eat.

The hero of our tragic tale is here upon this bridge,
A place that he has chosen for its view of yonder ridge.
There, he thinks, he saw a light, the night before that day.
It could mean other human beings—watch, he thinks, and pray.

He knows he has been spotted when he hears a mournful cry,
So turns about and sees the thing, and shoots it in the eye.
Then, he hears the thunder blast from far above in heaven,
And guards against the coming rain his AK-47.

He now must quickly leave the bridge, before the things can swarm,
And wishes (not his first or last) for someplace dry and warm.
It’s easy with just one or two, but if they come together,
The last thing he’d be worried ‘bout was cold and stormy weather.

He saw no people on the cliff, but goes there, just in case,
For even if there’s no one there, it’d make a handy base.
The highest ground’s the longest view, and knowing what’s ahead
Can save a man the trouble of him joining with the dead.

And would you guess, that at the top, he finds an empty camp?
And there, perhaps, the source of light, a little oil lamp.
Abandoned, though, and all intact, so there was little chance
That those who lived here hadn’t died and joined the shambling dance.

As if to prove his theory, then, he finds the man at last
Whose tent had pitched upon the ridge above the valley vast.
Sitting, there, behind a tree, his eyes are shining dull,
With bandages around his wrist, a bullet through his skull.

Bitter disappointment, then, for friends he never knew,
Who could have fought together as the swarms around them grew.
If he had not been bitten, then he wouldn’t now be dead
For choosing right the noble end, and blasting out his head.

He digs for him a shallow grave beneath the gnarled birch
As lonely as the sable crow that eyes him from her perch.
If she could bear him from that place, with wings as dark as jet,
He’d not have gone away with her, to fight the creatures yet.

For crows, it seems, will eat the dead, as those who have been bit,
And they can’t reason like a man, or find the cause of it.
If running could have served him well, he’d trade his loathsome life
To cure the awful Walking Plague, and end the living’s strife.

Of course, you know, the crow he sees is nothing but a crow,
And cannot save his life this day. I thought you ought to know.
She flies now, off her lonely perch, and being just a bird,
Cannot presume to warn the man, spoke not a single word.

At last, the final mound of earth is placed upon the tomb
While he has not the fondest thought of what will happen soon.
And so, the dead, as buried thus, had reached his bitter end,
The stranger whom he never met engraves his stone, A Friend.

The funeral is over now, with just one soul to mourn
Though never really noticing the sky, too, is forlorn.
She pours her sorrows from her clouds she painted iron grey
Till naught but time could tell it is the middle of the day.

He stands there, soaking in the storm, and then his face goes pale
As off he hears approaching him the creatures’ mournful wail.
He’d stayed up there for far too long, and hadn’t kept his guard,
And now, it seems, they’d come for him, and now, it’s raining hard.

No time to waste, he grabs his gun, and takes his rapid aim,
To **** the thing that doesn’t know its history or its name.
They come in droves, but he is fast, and gets them one by one,
And he is sure that if he holds, the battle will be won.

He guides another straight and true, above the squawk of crows.
He curses that what’s in his sites with every word he knows.
He pulls the trigger, soft, as though the angels heard his hope
And heeded him his prayer to them: Assure the fatal stroke.

But as the bullet leaves the gun, he sees the creature’s eyes
Lighting up with fear and dread, and then, with cool surprise.
And in her hand, she holds a sword, which she had used to ****,
For creatures will not stop their search, and never eat their fill.

And then, he knows, she is alive! She’d come to join the war!
And they could fight together, not be lonely anymore!
And as he finds his fondest wish had found him in the rain
The bullet that the angels blessed flies straight into her brain.

He sees her fall among the dead that still are marching on,
And at the feeding frenzy’s start, he sees his hopes are gone.
And there they are, the scoundrels, they are tearing up her flesh!
They wish to eat her to the bone, because her meat is fresh!

He cannot let them, not at all, he has to make a stand.
He charges at the feasting swarm, and feels one bite his hand.
He fights them still, keeps them away, till he begins to fade.
The sins of all mankind before, with this, they are repaid.

This grim thought was last he had, before he finally died,
With no one else around to see, none grieved, and no one cried.
The dead man stood. His eyes had lost their golden, burning fire.
Though finally freed from human strife, was not from his desire.

All around, the others were, and just the same as him;
No different thought than flesh and blood could even they begin.
The man looked down then to the girl, and knew not in the least
Whose fault it was that she was dead. He then began to feast.
I feel thee in dreams
In Reality,
Thee don't come
So I build Statues
But could not give Life

Who are thee?
As if thee are known to my birth and beyond
Saw thee at the sea Frenzy,
Thee at the mysteries of,
As if Touching fortune to write on for an unfortunate

I don't know thee name
Called thee as in the most desire
One day when I was traveling on a Train
Felt thee existence in a wide range of forms across the Edge
At Sunset over the horizon in Seclusion

Felt thee at the Harvest
In the Harvest Festival
Swinging in the air at the Yellow Barren Fields,
In the melody tune of a Cowboy's Flute

In the Huts,
Paths,
Stations
and the Meadows

Thee in my Mother's Words
In the prayers beneath the Banyan
Felt thee in the White Stork Feathers
Sometimes in the Sleepless Dreams
In my Words of Thirst

@Musfiq us shaleheen
As I Feel Thee/
little red Sep 2014
Blood rushing like wild crazed dogs
to the surface of my skin.
Placing a crimson attitude onto my face,
and a trembling hurricane to my voice.

The oxygen runs thin from my atmosphere,
is this real, or is this outer space?
Canines of the blackest exposure make their way
from my head, down my spine, through my extremities, to my feet.

Crushing eyes from around push me outwards
until I can no longer see what I'm running from.
Screeching, mocking barks echo from within
as prey is made of my insides.

Beneath the supernovas of happiness past
alone I await for the chimes of twelve.
I feel the hounds push against my skin once more,
they have not been fed for a while now.

The time has arrived and yet my sanity still has not;
shadows surround me and make it hard to breathe.
Laughter of hyenas, cries of bloodhounds, howls of wolves,
all disturb what is left of me right to the core.

Colourblind, yet with an eyesight set on the brightest hue of fire,
mongrels of most devilish influence impatiently scratch and claw.
Opening their kennels they climb over each other in a frenzy
down the road of scarlet.

Red sky at night, shepherd's delight? Well then, red sky in the morning
is a sign that the herding dogs from Hell shall give no warning.
Possible trigger warning
GoldenBoii Aug 2015
be the emulsifier between my tong & your liquid - become the highlight of the unspoken diversity in colours  

                 - take life as an underestimation of the darkest light - rewind against the self-proclaimed goodness of a super hero

                - stay vicious towards the muted fury of a volcano - frenzy beyond the rage of a divorced mermaid

               - dare to inhale Indian cricket sounds while shaving death himself (by the *****) - Loose the unlovable spice baptised in a pile of modern mud called space

              - generate a weapon dissolving an imprisoned flying carpet facing the smell of freedom - jump fronting an orchestra of snake leather balloons in search for your nickname

             - buzz the alarm & punch the clock drowned into a bottle of ****** Mary’s pudenda juice ... and then... and only then I will Marry you!

— The End —