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g clair Aug 2013
A strange and eerie silence just before the midnight train
in the distance rolling thunder, through the darkness,
here's the rain
now wind is whipping sideways, tearing limbs from massive trees,
it's a wonder, jolt of thunder, every man's not his knees!

In a frenzied call to sleepers, get your loved ones up, she screams
it's the grimmest of all reapers come to rob you of your dreams
and it's grinding up the ground ten miles south, a mile wide
and it's headed your direction, so you'd better run and hide!

So panic takes the front seat while we quickly dive for cover
and we pray for God's deliverance, 'cause no one wants to hover
and we wait upon hell's plunder,as it devastates the land
and leaves it's monster's calling card, demise of all things grand.

lighter than a feather, yet never made for flight
carried on this wrecking train through blackness of the night
butcher knives! and power tools! an airborne metal shed!
A rabbit cage! an auto harp and someone's unmade bed!

the stuff which neighbors value, all their papers, jewels and cash
have been caught up in the whirlwind, torn to shreds and churned to trash
it's then I hear the grinding of the wheels upon the track
and brace myself with others in the bowels of my shack

a locomotive bearing down, we hold on tight and pray
the shrill wind screams, you can't believe it's happening this way!
and all we care about right then is staying on the ground
and keeping those we love alive, intact and safe and sound.

The way it goes, no one quite knows the way it's gonna be
we trust that God is here to lead us through the deep Red Sea
though man's no match against it, we'll find shelter in the storms
and pray escape the reaper in the whirlwind as it forms
You're  beautiful, To me,
my hope in the morning light and dream in the dusk of night
The sight of you opens more doors in my life than even the greatest of writings
Your beautiful eyes make me shed more tears than the Grimmest funeral
I see no earth, no creation without you in it.
Importance opens my eyes, as I do not have love for people, I cannot see a world where I must live without you.
Your auburn locks shine through  my very soul, the sunlight gives your face a heavenly glow, so radiant that only a fool wouldn't fall for you,
My Angel, forgive me my carelessness but I feel only love for you and I don't believe that any words could  ever describe your  beauty and divinity but tried I have to explain the  extent  of  my feelings for
you as I sit here and think, I hope to  see  you  again and open my heart to you  personally
Like I always desired in the first place.
My first ever love letter, dedicated to that heavenly girl for whom my love knows no bounds.
EP Robles Sep 2018
I am the sea. I am the clouds.  And the dirt you carry within your dreams.  i am the pain.  i taste the blood.  Even though it’s 2 o’clock in the mourning and time to go home.  To the nothings and the peculiars of an emptiest life.
   i am the child who once painted lipstick
on a pet / the grimmest hour I stood alone /  i wanted to die / and now i’ve grown up without the hope of a warmer house I could call my life ||
i am the tea.  i am the cup.  Of no particular taste and i want to throw up / and it’s always the last one who calls me hon / you should get a better life. |||

:: 09-06-2018 ::
None required.
the other Umi Oct 2014
For a moment I had all corners of fate sealed
Right in the palm of my hand
I could explore all the avenues
And I could determine what tomorrow brings
And erase all my past blemishes
That still sting even today

For a moment, I had it all laid out in front of me
Your unwavering strength to overcome that which hurts you the most
The gleam in your eyes when you talk about that which you hold dear
The way you never talk of love in vain
And how you manage to smile through all the pain

You took me through the blossoming
Fields of your heart
And acquainted me with all that blooms there in
From a lilly
To a daisy
Ohhh the lovely scent of the jasmines
Even the wildflowers did not look so wild
For so long as they were nurtured by the beautiful strength of your soil
Their roots strong like your will
They seemed ever more beautiful in my eyes

For a moment I was not a stranger
In the land you grew up in
As foreign as it was to me
For the different personalities I met
All came from a nation of pure kindness and humility
No one fought over property
The elderly cared for the young
And the young respected the elderly
And in due time, the youth was well versed in all the stages of life including puberty

Then we took a short left
To the grimmest corners of your neighborhood
To meet those who are considered vile and most crooked around the hood
And I learned that those souls needed healing
Not necessarily that they were up to no good
Maybe they did commit inhumane acts
But it all came from a dark pit where hearts are left to bleed out to death
And souls cry in the valley of their suffering with no one to hear their cries

Laughter shared and sadness spared
Amongst two hearts that deeply cared
Was preceded by the whine and grine
Of skin on skin and heart to heart
A tale of how two spirits got intimately entwined
And a passion that transcended space and time
My lips wrote poetry on your skin
And your moans whispered a promise to my heart
I could read the desire on your neck
And I suddenly knew you were home
Because your nails built a nest on my back

Perhaps all that aphrodisiac was incited by the red wine
An evening bubbling with heartfelt stories and utmost openness
There certainly was no room for grapevine
The firm grip of your fingers on the sheets
And my fingers in your hair
Rendering each fold in between my fingers
A fine art made of twine
I was just consumed whole
By the bone shattering ecstasy of two bodies merged into one
For in that instant, we shared the same heart
And through my rhythm
I could find yours
In that instant I was thine
And thee mine

Before the morning sunshine
That pierced through the windows shook me awake
I was still dreaming about your eyes
How they resemble the beautiful sky
Above the roof that covered our heads
From a distance I could hear a flock of chirping birds
And the sound of ocean waves
Flowing and receding just to kiss the shore
But that was all in a moment of trance
When I had the chance
To glance into your beautiful eyes
Perhaps for the last time
Or the first of many
But It matters not, for that one night alone was just divine

Well maybe I totally blew it
Maybe I nailed it to the core
But these are standards to which
Only your heart can give the score
For it was a night filled with oxymorons and metaphors
I mean who am I to ask such questions
When I was just another nobody
Who took a casual stroll in your mental streets
And spent one night in your sheets
Before I knew it, my time was over
I had to get back to my normal life
And shake off my deep sleep.
g clair Nov 2015
A strange and eerie silence just before the midnight train
in the distance rolling thunder, through the darkness,
here's the rain
now wind is whipping sideways, tearing limbs from massive trees,
it's a wonder, jolt of thunder, every man's not his knees!

In a frenzied call to sleepers, get your loved ones up, she screams
it's the grimmest of all reapers come to rob you of your dreams
and it's grinding up the ground ten miles south, a mile wide
and it's headed your direction, so you'd better run and hide!

So panic takes the front seat while we quickly dive for cover
and we pray for God's deliverance, 'cause no one wants to hover
and we wait upon hell's plunder,as it devastates the land
and leaves it's monster's calling card, demise of all things grand.

lighter than a feather, yet never made for flight
carried on this wrecking train through blackness of the night
butcher knives! and power tools! an airborne metal shed!
A rabbit cage! an auto harp and someone's unmade bed!

the stuff which neighbors value, all their papers, jewels and cash
have been caught up in the whirlwind, torn to shreds and churned to trash
it's then I hear the grinding of the wheels upon the track
and brace myself with others in the bowels of my shack

a locomotive bearing down, we hold on tight and pray
the shrill wind screams, you can't believe it's happening this way!
and all we care about right then is staying on the ground
and keeping those we love alive, intact and safe and sound.

The way it goes, no one quite knows the way it's gonna be
we trust that God is here to lead us through the deep Red Sea
though man's no match against it, we'll find shelter in the storms
and pray escape the reaper in the whirlwind as it forms
Ceryn Jul 2013
The genius of a thousand words all combined
through a fateful unity, no true clarity
to touch a stoical soul.
I love it.

The genius of her truly timeless thoughts
like that of a willful dreamer
lived, lasted, now braver.
I found it.

The genius of a playful imagery
bound to reconsider
glee or tragedy.
It is it.

The genius of a hopeful recovery
from the grimmest sorcery
with pure beauty, oddity
For anyone's anatomy
finds a way to thee
Oh, powerful,
Real genius,
*Poetry!
Gabriel Jan 2014
The shadowiness of grey,
With the grimmest glossy lining,
Cannot hinder the sun from shining,
No matter the sky in the way.

A flower needs brightness above,
As a heart requires virtue,
The heart needs a light to turn too,
Just as the flower requires love.

Dimly woven dreams of growth,
An internal quest for progress,
Beliefs that rarely ever digress,
A path that complicates both.

But a dying star has not shown its all,
As one blast is yet to come,
So with anticipation far undone,
It does not even define the fall.

For a cloud does not sing a song,
But merely floats along the day,
Heat always dedicatedly eating away,
At the changing daydream of those gone.

But the water cycle that fuels life restarts,
Breaking new clouds into a new light,
And much to a growing flowers delight,
Never keeping it and water apart.
Why dark poems I don’t write
Though I too pass through darkness
Have my share of thunderous night
Fighting depression’s embrace!

I think of ways to swallow them down
Shove them out of my sight
Blow it away my grimmest frown
Light the dark in candlelight!

It’s not smooth job wishing them away
The shadows too powerful to yield
That always love to have their way
Thrive in dreams unfulfilled!

They tempt me to give them a chance
Succumb to their alluring might
I know if I submit to them for once
They would be all over my write!
Jamie L Cantore Dec 2014
I wander aimlessly here, here in this place where I
often go. A refuge where I come to be restored by the midnight air, ere that perfect silence into which I'm
thrown; and in which I can collect my thoughts &
know  -my percipience does ignite somewhere.

Somewhere off the map.      Somewhere off the globe.

Aloft in these Nameless Hallows, I travel lightly -because
my body ne'er goes... goes... goes...  in these, my echoes within -within the far compass of unerring tranquility: but what an ability
-what a beautiful bliss! to cast no shadow where the
dutiful exist.

  Lo!
           Suddenly a downpour hits!



  T'is Woe!
                             T'is Woe!


T'is Woe!  



                                   And, sullenly I resound her hiss.



I look thru squinting eyes as lightning is barely
lightening the glinting skies; the frightening bolts
extending and scarily resembling skyward highways
which have me verily trembling, hammered, amazed.

Tho I feel and see and hear -part of me does part with
what I fear -and the other partly remains enthralled- as
I tuck myself in so near, an attempt in thwarting the
violent squall.

Now I slog helter-skelter thru the deepening pool.
Seek I shelter like a tooling Creep or a creeping Tool.

                          

Thunder rips the sky asunder!



Those pounding noises sound like resounding voices,
                                                       ­                         voices,
                              ­                                                         voices
and then I wonder, wonder, wonder... if the torrent is my only
torment:


or

if I must also face my other self,


that half of me
that ne'er lies completely dormant,

that hemisphere that lives and breathes and moves by stealth.




This is my grimmest fear, when I must ask myself -for my Self

- which part of me I should
shelf.

I think I can abandon both,
                          you see:
but then there
would be
                     nothing left of me...
                                                    or me...
                                                *or me.
MS Lim Nov 2015
APOCALYPSE

Civilisation will sleep
in time's graveyard
there's too much hatred
bad blood that would split
every artery and vein asunder
when the human heart
could feel no more
when reason has been
swept away by the soulless indifferent wind
and nights are but the ghosts
of anguish and perdition
when dreams are hellish nightmares
and sleep is but a trail
of torturous afflictions
when peace has bidden farewell
and hopes have sunk
into abysmal oblivion

what is left
and what is there to be lived for?

now in this grimmest hour
darker than the silent grave
rises only spectre's head
ugly, ominous , relentless and revengeful

this then is the apocalypse -
the world has lost its sight
splendour and beauty
and in every corner of earth
a signboard will be found
bearing the name : Dead
nil
Our every talk
an episode of competitive mind athletics
As each tries to outpace the other
On the eccentric field tracks of conversation.

We are more like ****** – militants,
For after every hello and before the next goodbye there always remains a trail of carnage;
Inside my eyes and on your face are the grimmest battlefields;
Emotions are always the casualties;
Paying the price for two egos clashing in frantic effort to maintain the gravities of inner pride.

Your name and mine;
Two eagles wrestling every hour
trying gravely to unsettle the establishment;
To shift the equilibrium,
To make the universe lose its balance.

Lady;
The survival of our acquaintance is based on something stronger than the spiritual;
Our mutualism
One flower least expected to flourish
I think nature made me for you;
I am the antithesis to your existence;
Only in our duality can peace exist;
Two powers of chaos
Tumultuous forces that cannot live without each other.

Teyana;
I think you know that I am the best thing that is ever going to happen to you.

{She Smiles and nods}

WordSmith_Wiz
31/12/2018
For Teyana, Let me embrace your chaos. From the upcoming love anthology "TEYANA"
Michael Marchese Nov 2023
Dusk settles in
On my grimmest despair
Of my guilty subconscious
I’m all too aware
Too fixated on quelling
The faith reservations
Uproarious tirade
Of self-confrontations
At war with
Internal conformist
Resent
I nocturnally wander
The wastes of lament
Not enough for
My suffering’s
Love hesitant
But sincere
What I actually feel
Is content
Quasi-Desolate Feb 2016
Below the tree line,
love ran its rank course,
in hungry silence, with diligence,
where all are meat, and none are free,
to the lone wolf prowling,
through the pines,
pure of heart, and lovers dreams,
over many a distant hill he roams,
to suit his sole intelligence,
with comforts none, he speaks to me.

Here amongst these rolling hills,
sharing none other's love or trust,
resigned to chase his dimming suns,
with knowledge of his end to come.
None should know such lonely thoughts,
as this simple creature, filled with light,
chasing always loves request,
to find his longing in the night.
Howling deeds that others shun,
Silver drops of heartache shimmer,
from jaws of silent moonlight come,
glowing with the faintest glimmer,
of peaceful evenings left undone.

Such longing desires for others,
those friends, enemies, lovers,
they cannot see above,
such chilly hills where solitude lives,
Lone wolves run free and live apart,
They have no brothers,
No friends, no lovers,
to claim their lonely wandering heart,
the grimmest, coldest winds that blow,
are all they need to nourish and feed,
their hunger wandering cold,
and lean among the silent trees.
Michael Marchese Mar 2017
Pull the plug, return the feeling  
Resurrect its deeper meaning
Eternally internal bleeding
Out the suicidal beating
Of a barely living being
Worth less than the air I'm breathing
Further in the dark receding
Nothing real to keep believing
Blinded by a faith misleading
Echoes torture chamber screaming
Silently I wither, grieving
Elegizing starless evenings
Mourning joyous moments fleeting
Buried by the grimmest reaping
Rotting slowly, maggots feeding
On whatever's left of needing
Flesh to form my muse appeasing
Where I find myself exceeding
Astral plane existence seeing
In a world of lucid dreaming
Traveler Dec 2017
How very blessed you must be
If you can truly relate
To being with your eternal mate
With not a thought of being free
Isn't that how it was meant to be?

While the rest of us are not so blessed
In fact our lives are quite the mess
Eternal mates lost to fate
Have you ever really felt
The emptiness of such a place

So please
Quash the grimmest face
And give us cheaters
Just a little
Break!
Traveler Tim
Stephanie Feb 2018
Did you see the roaring wilderness
In the midst of rainy night's silence
The vultures eyeing for prey
Beasts thirsty of a ****** play
We're walking into the forest
Of danger and nothing but grimmest
Nightmare of your past, present and future
The only choice is to be fond of no stature
Do not run
Just have fun
Feel the chilling ambiance
Hear the fading  resonance
You belonged here
There's no escape, dear
But trust me,
Do not trust anybody

--
Traveler Feb 2020
Over the edge
I quiver to look
there’s no bottom  
only a hook
dead bait
hanging
excuse the smell
this is but a tasteless mess
but what the hell!
No filter to muffle
the parasitical ink
grimmest in the minds nose
metaphorical stinks
But here I'll add
I wish you the best
After all this isn't a poem
it's only a mess
Traveler Tim
Mateuš Conrad Oct 2021
i once walked from Boulevard Pershing,
near the hotel Concorde Lafayette to the west of Paris city centre
300 metres from the metro station Porte Maillot
to... the 3 ducks hostel... 6 Pl. Etienne Pernet...
upon arrival i was welcome by an American
bartender... and when asked how my journey was...
well, i walked...
you walked?!
yeah... i walked... my first time in Paris...
like my first time in Stockholm... solo... in a hostel...
upon landing it really was a city of lights...
the Eiffel tower was my beacon and my hypnotism...
once upon a time i had that pet project
of going to capital cities alone...
Athens... well... i thought: Venice might be better
than Rome...
i sure as hell i visited Berlin... i was going
to hit on Prague before... the last year & some happened...
3 years in Edinburgh: i wish there were more...
London dragged me back in...
but... it's one thing to walk in a capital city...
taking the public transport...
it simply doesn't allow you to sample the entire:
horizon of the city... the nooks & crannies that
otherwise: a bicycle ride allows...
just today i thought... enough of this area of
makeshift London that's being eaten up...
that the county of Essex is willing to give up...
i need to get some urban salt on my face:
you do return from a heavily urbane area
with a residue on your face that looks like
***** salt... but feels like the purest of sands...
from circa Havering-atte-Bower...
a little village on the hill with Bower Wood
Havering County park... oh... i'd say
1 mile from my home...
from there to Canary Wharf via Canning Town...
via Barking...
taking the CS3... i passed... just after leaving
Barking i came across architecture i can only
best describe as...
postmodernism "gothic"...
            gothic architecture looks menacing...
so did all i passed...
but it was gothic tinged with postmodernism...
it was very much cubism meets Lowry...
although there's this very short segment
of the CS3 where you ride past the
recycling centre at Beckton...
all shaded by trees and a roundabout
underpass... the route becomes very narrow
and there are just enough turns to make you
galvanize your speed a little...
it's a brutal landscape... Barking in general
is brutal... it feels very much like:
Babylon with Pyramids... but the sun was shining
today: and you know what happens
when sunshine glees over Glasgow:
it can almost feel like Edinburgh...
sunshine elevates everything... just like Edward Hopper
said: i just want to paint sunlight...
even the grimmest: grimiest of place can
be elevated & it doesn't have to feel all ******...
before arriving at Barking i had to pass through
the multicultural hub of Ilford Lane...
sari shops... halal butchers...
as a white immigrant: since i'm not... English
per se: by the demands of "born & bred"...
& even thought i was the only one of about
3 white, male faces... it somehow didn't bother me...
seems like being a minority has had its perks
all along!
Asians girls looked at you like some curiosity
equivalent to a spice mixture of cumin,
cardamom, coriander... cinnamon...
must be the suntan: the copper-neck appeal
i sometimes acquire in the summer months...
if these people are "supposedly" conquering these
lands... do they think their...
high-spiritedness and vigour will not
wane under the scrutiny of the weather?!
i sampled some of their imam rhetoric...
yes yes... but once all the english girls have been
vehicles for **** & revenge and rooted out...
while the white boy'ohs are not reproducing with them?
where's the revenge going to come from?
that desert is going to dry up...
these people will return to their own
sacred rites of: oculus per oculus...
an eye for an eye... no?
i'm starting to see the bigger picture... the tomorrow:
i'm starting to like living with a minority status...
it's called Darwinism: proper...
not Darwinism upon inception: with all
that eugenic crap: let cousins **** cousins!
this is... how a species adapts...
i can't exactly grow a pair of wings or become
invisible... i make concessions...
i adapt by... well... making compensation
leverages...
if i'm not a white: native of these lands...
i'll fit in such fine: or so i hope...
after all... a monochromatic society makes much
for nausea... esp. when i return to Warsaw...
my grandmother is still living... when she dies...
though... what reason will i have to visit that
old... fable of a land of my birth?
the English in me is already my own...
i own it...
i'm not just going to give it up...
like i won't give up reading philosophy books in
****** since... they make no ****** sense to me in English:
i'll just read them in one language...
and translate myself an interpretation...
that's how it's going to work...
it worked just fine up to now...
why should it stop?
come to think of it... what happens in eastern vs.
western households?
oh you know:
in western households if a man / woman is still living
with their parents... rather than:
living alone... & paying rent to some stranger...
for some hope of reaching some one night stand quota...
then they're LOSERS...
there's a particular spice to this word...
it's best associated with Sichuan Pepper...
that tongue numbing sensation best associated
with: how the French & the English slowly: but surely...
lost the trill of the R...
there's not much to LOSE when the fatalism
of mortality has your ***...
there's only a waiting game while
some people amass more... and have to give it all
up or... leave it to... failed ******* sons
akin to: how the amassing of wealth & prestige of
the Krupp family became
  Arndt von Bohlen und Halbach....
these supposed "losers"... amass nothing...
leaving nothing... all the better for it...
at least not a dead-end lineage... just dead-end
per se...
but... i can clean around the house... take care
of the cats... be a custodian to the affairs
of the "estate": make a variation of tortellini
with a beetroot borsch...
and... chances are... i will not see my parents
enter an old-people's home...
neglected: relegated to merely a dementia
status...
clingy or... how do those eastern
inter-generational households fair...
compared to the west's championing
of individualism when...
  rent goes **** knows' where: Arab moguls?
two fine examples...
one door down a Nigerian couple in their 60s...
their son & daughter still live at home...
two doors down a Sikh couple likewise
living with their son & daughter...
their son recently managed to throw a houseparty
that attracted circa 30 guests...
oddly enough: he wasn't regarded as a: LOSER...
opposite my house: an English household...
the younger daughter will be moving two doors
down parallel to my house with her would-be hubby...
so she will be in: screaming distance from her
mother's home...
if i am to be paying rent?!
to some anonymous ghost face ****...
forget it!
Darwinism doesn't imply: adapt to the hard-earned
orthodoxy of eugenics in tow:
after all... eugenics came prior to Darwinism:
i don't care much for Darwinism...
i didn't care much for the Copernican inversion
of whether it's a heliocentric or a geocentric model...
in terms of perspectives and coordination:
orientation: i need the "flat-earth" model
to get from X to Y... i don't exactly need
a Z... unless i'm... ******* sailing!
but even then... "Z" doesn't require me the allowance
of... "the earth isn't flat"...
sure as **** it does... if i'm going
from X to Y... no?
the anglo-saxon households will fall, last...
when it comes to inter-generational living
"fall-outs"... i don't mind the periodic celibacy
patterns... if i feel the urge to "get some"
after one of my feline companions entices me too much
while grooming her:
i'll ******* to the brothel and get it over & done with...
i don't need a dating app to... waste my time over...
dating apps... i so *******
oblivious to their existence i can ast least attest
that happens in real life...
i'm also out to not crave ambitions for
offspring... funny how that works...
well... so who's going to take care of you?
me... with the proper incisions when the game is up...
i figured out around cruxes on my body where bloodflow
is concentrated...
under my right-arm-pit...
in my neck... all that's required is a hot bath...
and plenty of mr. whiskers und ms. amber...
i mean: for ****'s sake...
reinterpret Darwinism with individualism:
the "premise" stands:
i will not give up my private library collection...
cooking food others enjoy...
ownership of two cats... but still "living" with my
parents for... four empty ******* walls...
and a chance to somehow... merely...
bring back a dating partner for nothing more
than a fling...
it's like that quote i heard about Neopolitan cooking:
minimum effort: maximum satisfaction...
that's all life has to be...
mind you: is it so... ******* unbearable
to not be able to love your parents, esp. when you can?
i'm always put off my white, western women,
they want too much...
they're never of interest to me:
i know what game they're playing...
i never heard of a herd of "individuals"...
sure... rent... but we can **** in the garden...
in the forest... like this one spice-up i picked up
off of a park bench... a Thai Surprise...
we ****** in the garden... so?
Darwinism without a superiority complex
of the people who conjured it up...
can become... refreshingly... revelatory...
you just don't need to line other people's pockets...
i never used darting apps... never felt a dire
greed to do so...
CS3 is fine while cycling towards Canary Wharf...
i like the grift... the grift...
but the CS2 from Ilford towards St. Paul's...
it's great *** Mile End: on your way back...
but little Bangladesh coming in...
it leaves me with a distaste... too much of
Asia... not enough European postmoderist
"gothic" grit.... nothing too much familiar with
industrialisation...
coming back on the Bow overpass
at Stratford... an Asian couple...
let's just leave a tinge of scrutiny on her...
she looked like Cindarella: before donning
on her ****-up make-up and her glass
stiletto...
she pushed the various traffic buttons
and
stood... in the middle of the bicycle route...
thank god i was d0nning my sunglasses..
it's impossible...
i was eyeing her up...
she was eying me up...
her boyfriend was next to her...
eh... the niqab does little...
easier to don a pair of sunglasses:
if the concept of playing poker arrived for the Arabs
"too late":
i'm pretty sure the ninja attire could be made
simultaneous to the niqab...
chicken or the egg...
did the niqab give birth to the ninja
attire, or what it...             ?

but there's a trajectory where household living
resembles little what: investment in
wholesale looks like...
i like to think of Darwinism as a way
to adapt...
to make concessions...
  they're not pretty concessions...
as an ape... supposedly... i can hardly make
peacock remarks... or therefore:
peacocking... years later though...
but by then...
the fear of exploitation will summon
a paranoia in me of diabolical proportions...

i will have to summon: ****! mode.

that being said... CS2 ius great on your way back from
Canary Wharf.... to... the outskirts of...
what is London... what isn't London...
best life in Paris, though...
best life after life's over: Edinburgh: for sure...
in that respect... London's traffic.
Amanda Shelton Mar 2023
You've got spiders in your smile,
cobwebs in your heart, stitches hold
together your dislocated mind,
your unhinged and vile.

You're memory stinks like toxic
water from the grimmest pools ever
used, it's a sewer full of poo and ***.

Your loveless heart is soft and black,
its black mold has grown,
its fuz is coming out of the creaks
grabbing for its victims.

In between the infection of your
festering mind you will find, passed
victims you've collected trapped
inside scar tissue from passed
infections.

You are a crazy thought that runs
circles in my head, while yelling
profanities and accusations.

You are a narcissist and an infection
upon my mental health.

©️ 2023 By Amanda Shelton
Offspring between close family members
not biologically fit nor ablest
even if direct immediate relations
consider themselves best
buddies, emotionally intimate, and offload
heavy matters weighing down

on their respective figurative chest,
cuz lurking within brethren and cistern genes,
and/or chromosomes dwell deadliest
nastiest, and weakest link undermining
searingly robust reproductive human stock,
thru molecular hijacking gungho extremest

right wing trumpeting malefactor breeding
distilling, fomenting, et cetera the faintest
self destructive invisible agents provocateurs
dredging existentially faultiest
predispositions, and vulnerabilities
compromising in utero body electric,

asper offspring saddled with funniest
itsy bitsy teenie ****** yellow Polka dot bikini
donned flesh impossible to remove,
which surgery could imperil and render feeblest
unto Caesar, an ides of march, sans flimsiest
excuse for a successor

to the royal porcelain throne,
which progeny could exhibit the frailest
constitution, and possibly appear as freakiest
looking hominid this side of Schwenksville
with napped hair most frizziest
affixed to a beanpole gangliest

androgynous cisgender metasexual
being description also including geekiest,
not to mention ghastliest
simple minded looking gruesomest
human being, who presents grimmest

prospects quite dim tubby happiest
bellowing soul since...******
came back in vogue when polar vortex
ushered necessity to bed with kindliest
people professing unconditional love.
JaxSpade May 2020
In the darks corner

Cornered

Where the shadows
And the leaves
Departed trees

Through the winds whispers

A tornado of ghosts
Legions

Upon the gray skies
Purple with black eyes
Of hatred

The dark
Has cornered
Your woman

It took her

You stood there
When the laughs echoed
Screaming
    Demons

You missed her

But she was possessed
By an evil
Deceiver

Dressed with
The believer

In the darks deeper

She fell into the sleeper
Mesmerized by the black coal
Theater

The shadows
Performed on the walls
Feature

Your woman
Took a seat there

You could see her

In the darks corner
Cornered
Where the shadows
Beat her
She was taken away
Deeper

A lost soul
Fallen to the depths

Into the grasp

Of the grimmest
Reaper
Ron Jun 2020
Below the tree line
love ran its rank course
in hungry silence, with diligence,
where all are meat, and none are free,
to the lone wolf prowling through the pines
pure of heart, and lovers’ dreams
over many a distant hill he roams
his silent sorrow speaks to me.

Here amongst these rolling hills
among no person's love or lust
resigned to chase his dimming suns
with knowledge of his end to come.
None should know such lonely thoughts,
as this simple creature, filled with light,
chasing always loves request
to find his longing in the night.

Howling deeds that others shun,
Silver drops of heartache shimmer,
from jaws of silent moonlight come,
glowing with the faintest glimmer,
of peaceful evenings left undone.

Those longing cries for others,
Friends, enemies, lovers,
They cannot peer within
such chilly hills where solitude lives
Lone wolves run free and live apart
They have no brothers, no friends, no lovers,
to claim their lonely wandering heart,
the coldest, grimmest winds that blow
are all they need to nourish and feed,
their hunger wandering cold
and lean amongst the silent trees

— The End —