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Maddy Kay Oct 2018
Normal -
What a powerful word.
It’s something we expect to happen for everything.
It’s something we all have wanted to be.
Something we wish we were.

But it’s not that simple,
Now is it?
Because normal means you have to go by society’s standards of what “normal” is.
But what is the use?
Why even try?

Because no matter what,
No one is going to meet society’s standards of what this term means.
Now, you will only meet those standards when a powerful authority tells you.
For example, President Donald Trump.
He expects us to be normal by building a wall and not allowing immigrants inside this country.

Or how about this?
He says he accepts the LGBTQ+ community,
But you know he says that just so that he could get votes.
And what about this?
He sexually harasses women no matter what they say.

Why do we want to be this way?
Why does everyone want to fit in?
To be accepted?
To feel appreciated?
To want to feel something?

It starts in our childhood.
Elementary school starts and we make friends.
We talk to girls and boys our age,
Start to figure out how we should dress,
How we should act.

Then, we hit our pre-teen year.
Middle school hits us like a glove impacted by a baseball.
We start to figure out who we hang out with,
What phases we go through,
And what we should say.

Finally, we become teenagers.
High school feels like we get beaten by a bat.
We find out who our true friends are,
Find out what is good for us,
What we identify with.

But it doesn’t end there.
We go into adulthood and face reality.
And it ***** because we don't know what to do.
Who we should talk to.
What we should talk about.

Think about it.
We go through so much stuff to fit in.
To feel needed.
To feel wanted.
To feel normal.

Think back to the high school days.
Remember how it was normal for cheerleaders and football players to date?
How it was normal for the nerds to always be in the library?
How it was normal for the blonde that ran things to bully the girl with glasses and braces?
How normal it was for the gay kids to be called “****”?

Why is it okay for the kids with disabilities to feel left out?
Why is it okay for small kids to be shoved into lockers?
Why is it okay for guys to wear volleyball shorts and do ******-like moves,
But girls get in trouble for it?
Does this make sense at all?

When girls were young,
They were taught that it was wrong to bully.
They were taught that they should wear makeup and wear dresses.
They were taught that it was not okay to act like boys.
They were taught that they were going to become what their parents wanted them to be.

When boys were young,
They were taught that they should always act like a gentleman.
They were taught to wear tuxedos and gel their hair.
They were taught to never hit a girl.
They were taught that it was okay to get into fights.

Girls nowadays starve themselves to look perfect.
They get lip and breast injections.
They put on makeup that nobody recognizes them in.
They wear tight clothes to look skinnier.
They show off their body to look presentable.

Guys nowadays act like they are tough.
They hit the gym a lot to look perfect.
They take pills to feel better.
They rely on money to give them everything.
They do stupid things to get popular.

The cheerleader that was always nice to you?
She is dealing with abuse at home.
The popular blonde girl that picked on you?
She is cutting herself and popping pills to feel better.
That’s not all though.

The nerd that hangs out in the library all the time?
He was born with ADHD and he doesn’t want to be a burden to anyone.
The gay guy that gets called “***” all the time?
He is having problems with his boyfriend that he loves.
That’s not even the beginning of it.

We call each other names,
We say things that we don’t mean,
We give people looks,
We go through phases,
We do things to get attention.

We wear things to express how we are feeling,
We think about what people will think of us,
We listen to songs that we relate to,
We join things that make us feel good,
We hang out with people that give us good vibes.

But behind every smile is a frown.
Behind every layer of makeup is insecurity.
Behind every glance is worryment.
Behind every pair of sunglasses is sadness.
And behind every spoken word is fear.

Behind every song we listen to,
Has a special meaning to it.
Behind every poem we read,
Makes us think of our feelings.
And we what we fear.

Trying to be “normal” in today’s world,
Is like committing suicide to your old self.
Trying to be “normal” in everyone’s eyes,
Is like you are trying to become your own ******.
But why?

Trying to be “normal” for society,
Is like being stabbed to the back by the person you love the most.
Trying to be “normal” for popularity,
Is like a Great White taking a chunk of you.
What for?

We destroy the very core of us.
We take out what makes us important.
We add things to ourselves that we wouldn’t normally do.
We say things that we wouldn’t normally say.
What is the reason for this?

Guys catcall girls.
And they take it personally.
They take it into consideration.
They want to look better.
All they want is to feel like guys want them.

Girls judge guys on how they look.
They get shocked by it.
Their confidence goes down.
They dress better to impress.
All they want is to feel like girls them.

We are so focused on what others think of us,
That we give up on the fact that our own opinion matters.
We soak up every comment,
Every criticized term.
That we drown in the judgment.

To the ones that no longer care,
To the ones that block all the hate,
To the ones that ignore the judges,
To the ones that help spread kindness,
Keep doing it.

To the ones that criticize,
To the ones that judge,
To the ones that give ***** looks,
To the ones that make snarky comments,
Stop what you’re doing.

Do you see the pattern here?
How the mean people get recognized for doing something “good” in society’s eyes.
How the kindest people get ignored with every plea.
How it’s okay for us to do stupid things to get noticed?
Nothing is better than feeling accepted.

But being accepted is a privilege.
It’s not about what you want to see yourself to do.
You have judgmental parents for that.
It’s not about what you want yourself to become.
You have your parents to tell you what you will become.

But being accepted is a privilege.
It’s not about what you want to see yourself to do.
You have judgmental parents for that.
It’s not about what you want yourself to become.
You have your parents to tell you what you will become.

We live by rules and expectations.
Because if we don't,
We will get disowned by the people we trust the most.
Because if we don’t,
We will be seen as not worthy enough to feel good about ourselves.

But if we take the time to look at everything,
To realize that we don’t need to follow expectations,
To know we are worthy,
To see that we are loved for who we are.
One day, we will finally realize that we don’t need society’s expectations.

Elementary school girls are so worried about who will like them.
One day, elementary school girls will realize that they will gain friendships.
Elementary school boys are so focused on being tough.
One day, elementary school boys will realize that it is okay to be a gentleman.
Hopefully, it will happen.

Middle school girls are so worried about the size of their friend group.
One day, middle school girls will realize that popularity will not matter.
Middle school boys are so focused on getting a girlfriend.
One day, middle school boys will realize that girls will like them for who they are.
Possibly it will happen.

High school girls are so worried about the names they will get called.
One day, high school girls will realize that rumors are too stupid to be focused on.
High school boys are so focused on being perfect.
One day, high school boys will realize that it’s okay to be yourself.
Maybe it will happen.

Being normal is so pointless.
But yet, everyone takes it so seriously.
No one wants to stand out.
No one wants to feel different than everyone else.
We just go along with it.

Hopefully one day,
On a day that is just normal,
We will realize what we are doing to ourselves.
We will realize that we don’t need a set of rules to live by.
We will finally want the need to stand out amongst everything that is perfect.

As Brad Pitt once said,
“Stop being perfect,
because being obsessed over
being perfect stops you
from growing”.

So why don’t we just stand up for ourselves?
On what we want to do.
On what we want to look like.
On how we want to act.
Because as soon as we do that.

We will be free.
If you can't tell, this poem is about how we should not have to live by society's expectations in order to feel wanted.
Harrison May 2015
I’ve been squeezing moose all over my body in an attempt
To give it more volume
Which is to say I was trying to give my life more depth

When you’re finished reading astronomy you’ll end up
Throwing oranges at pedestrians because **** it, Earth is
Meaningless and everyone needs to cheer up

**** it because being content is the hardest
Thing you can possibly do
Which is to say throwing oranges at people is the hardest
Thing to do without getting your *** kicked

**** it because when an orange concentrates hard enough it becomes juice
And if I concentrate hard enough I **** myself
Which is to say I need to have a seat and calm down—
Enjoy this cigarette while it lasts

I am no longer able to print Handle-With-Care labeling
And tape it to my body like someone who actually believes that works
While the sun laughs and harasses me with oranges all day
**** it, there’s too much moose and I’m wearing a white shirt.
Josh Otto May 2011
I searched for days, so many days, to find
A flower nearing bloom that smelled as strong
As all the love I house for you. So wrong
Was I to try and find with my own mind
Such a sight... Lo! A man was there, behind
The signs. He sold me it, humming a song;
The seller shouted as I left the throng,
"Its bloom is nearing soon, but give it time!"

And the flower's bloom releases a scent
So foul--It is the skunk that ceased to be
Because of some unfortunate event.
And so much time for fragrances was spent,
This morbid stench only harasses me:
The Titan Arum has from Hell been sent.
Amanda Kay Burke Jun 2018
Cannot shake these feelings
Love in my heart is stronger than me
Your memory harasses day and night
Shackled to past, will I ever be free?
It is never too late to start over
Not too late for change, don't you see?
It is never too late to be the person
You always wished to be
It's never too kate to be who yoy might've been
Andrew Quilles Jun 2013
Ok. So there are like about ten guys right. And they all are in love or falling in love with my sister.* Let me just tell you, if one of you ******* hurts her or harasses her I will find you and leave you broken. I don't even give two damns if your in another state or country. I will fly to your *** and knock you the **** out. My sister is too good for ya'll. You'se need to lower the testosterone levels and find a girl where you live. My sister is sixteen and half you guys hitting on her are like in your mid-twenties. There is only one guy for her. Just one, and you know who you are. We message sometimes. But for the rest of ya'll, ******* mess with my sister and I will personally send you into hell. God help me!

Thank you for reading and listening to my bantering.

Questions and comments can be posted her or messaged to me. Have a nice night or day, wherever you live.
Pearson Bolt Aug 2015
FTP
when i say
**** the police
i do not feel obligated
to justify or quantify an
assertion that seems
fundamentally apparent to me
i do not find it necessary
to recount the endless horrors and
psychological terrors visited upon
ordinary men and women
nor do i deem it essential
to my personal ethos of
mutual dignity and
profound respect to
needlessly revere those
behind the badges
and the guns
i just see pigs dressed in blue
prove me wrong

i'm still waiting

when i say
**** the police
there's just one thing
i hope you understand
i do not detest the finger on the trigger
nor the hamfisted hand shoveling
Krispy Kream donuts
into a bottomless gullet
nor the fist clutching the baton
pummeling the peaceful protestor
who gave a riot-geared narc
a bouquet of flowers
nor the thumb emitting mace into
the unsuspecting face of a teenage girl
with a hot-pink mohawk

i do not mean offense when i remark
officer
your mustache reminds me of a walrus or
officer
were you the high school bully or
officer
can you direct me to nearest KKK meeting
please and thanks

so when i say
unequivocally
**** the police
know that it is because i detest
a racist misogynistic homophobic
apparatus of institutionalized oppression
that harasses the marginalized
as it butchers youth of color
and masks the misdeeds of its privileged elite in
a fraternity that utterly disregards morality

when i say
**** the police
it's 'cause i realize that absolute power
corrupts absolutely but the same
could be said for even a modicum
of power that twists and churns
and transforms the best of us into
vicious caricatures of humanity
the fissures of hegemony are exposed

as hierarchy crumbles we find inside us
the power to extol truth
even when it's unpopular

and say
**** the police
'cause they're too lazy to use
their words when the State gives
them a gun and
a license to ****
all charges will drop
because the only police who police
the police are the police

when i say
**** the police
it's because the State uses fear
to control its subjects
in hopes we won't realize
we don't need them
they keep us scared of one another
of the demons hiding in the dark
focus our terror on the monsters
lurking underneath our beds rather
than the Feds driving down I4 with
firearms strapped to their hips

when i say
**** the police
it's because it has not
escaped my notice
that the U.S. has the largest
prison population per capita of
any nation in the world due
to draconian laws governing
the use and abuse of substances
and i may be straight edge but
i'll be the first to point out
that the State's manufacturing new slaves
with its arbitrary arrests over ***

so i say
**** the police
because i remember
my brothers and sisters
who swine stole from this Earth
though i wager i'd never meet them
i'm certain their so-called criminal behavior
certainly did not merit an execution

and contrary to popular belief
black lives matter
so pull your head out of the sand
with that
all lives matter
hog-wash and open your ears for just a second

brother Michael Brown shot
down in Ferguson for walking
along the middle of the street

Eric Garner
strangled by a narc
accused of selling loose
cigarettes after dark

Sandra Bland failed to use her turn
signal and we discovered her later
hanging from a rope
like Roxanne Gay said
even if she killed herself
white hands are still locked around her throat

Trayvon Martin dared to wear a hoodie
and trespass in an affluent community
for failing to return to the ghetto
a vigilante **** sent him to the morgue

twelve-year-old Tamir Rice
played cops-n-robbers in his lawn  
no one stopped to tell him
its the boys-n-blue
who're robbing young kids of their lives
with bullets packed tight in their 9's

over 860 men women and children
killed by thugs draped in red white and blue
in these first 9 months of 2015 alone

so when i say
**** the police
i say so out of a sincere conviction
that there will be no peace until we get
some ******* justice
and i know the State Department's supplying
our masters with leftover gear from its
exorbitant multi-trillion dollar wars
M-16s tear gas flashbangs,
body armor HumVees tanks
rubber bullets surveillance kits and small arms
to suppress dissent and smash
lawful assembly with violence
but when they order us to cease and disperse
or suffer arrest
we'll have three words poised on our lips
**** the police
For all those whose lives have been interrupted—or terminated—by State-sponsored terror. Rest In Power.
Anna Vida Oct 2013
Little pink pills,
Like a chemical life support,
Stick to the walls of my esophagus
And refuse to budge
And become the lump in my throat
That I carry around
Throughout my day
When the man harasses me on the street
When the stranger compliments my shoes
When my friends' eyes burn.

Little pink pills
Can't even save a small girl
From that big voice
Creeping up from her cerebellum
Into her temporal lobe
And whispering into her ear
And taunting
And laughing
And then screaming.

Little pink pills,
to delay the inevitable.

Little pink pills,
to deter final peace.


Who cast this magic
that doesn't let me get wet
even when it rains

Who cast this magic
That doesn't **** me
Even after I have died

Who will be able to tell why
I am not moving
Even though I am walking

Who will be able to tell why
I am not living
Even though I am alive

Is it a lightning or is it a breeze
Is it the sun or the moon
Or is it the flowers and the birds
I am being tormented
without understanding
What's happening to me

Is it a beautiful color of LOVE or
A cruelty of fate
That is playing in my life

Sometimes it is a thing of kindness
Sometimes it is a thing of cruelty

Sometimes it is a thing of tears
Sometimes it is a thing of joy

My eyes refuse to close and
want to announce the entire world,
The silence feels like a lullaby
During day LOVE is caring like a mother
During night it harasses like a monster

During day LOVE is seeking you like a DOTING father
During night it caresses me like peacock feather

This situation of losing my way
with out losing never stops

This situation of losing my mind
Without going mad never ends

LOVE follows you with out ever
letting you go,
but you won't be able to see it

This thing that kills
without killing must be TRUE LOVE
It is a ANGEL that lives within me
without giving any warning
I feel something drilling
inside me that must surely be PURE LOVE

Now I see my soul being shattered
That must be ETERNAL LOVE

Who cast this magic
that doesn't let me get wet
even when it rains

Who cast this magic
That doesn't **** me
Even after I have died

It must be TRUE LOVE


Madeysin Apr 2016
As I caress your porcelain neck, my hands start to get a better grip. The cry comes out as *****. The self pity, in tears to blend with the water below. All drains lead to the ocean, I begged the current to take me away with it's flow.  Because all you can remember is 16 year old you...happy about food on holidays. While your mom harasses you to hate yourself. She said," Go! Go stand naked infront of that mirror and I can be certain you will never be happy about food again." And so I carress you, with bruised knees and a broken heart.
Vernarth says: “We will be able to find in this path of Light that is my life, what is the wood that stretches and upsets the material surfaces in the gifts of God, with the prevailing low water of the minimal plastering of rainfall, but if in the flow of astonishment that will leave us all in the breath of knowing how to be and understand, which is my hand directed by Vitruvius, and that his interval measures do not cease to outline everything that can or could generate cracks that cross the rules of Survival, where everyone who is a survivor of the Arbela Site, will be identified as an unfolded constituent of all solid material, providing the minimum percentage that will make up the majesty of a revived heart. Vitruvius remains with me ..., and his hands sustain greater fantasies that reside in the divine architecture that will be the origin of everything that existed and will exist. The long wattles will extend in the new layer that resides between the Kidron Valley to Gethsemane, and from Nazareth to Eilat, and that those who walk around will winnow footsteps that will later lead them to Bethany, and that Alexander the Great ... my General! Will be protected by the holy mantle of Mashiach, after we are both released from this mega Purgation. That the magnitude of the planks and the broad-headed nails will be hammered by the antlers of the Uilef, and that the utopias will make me see from above and it will be like being on the shoulders of Brisehal or the Colosso of Apsila so that wattles be always and permanently sprinkled by my prose of advent and passion of my Redeemer. I am prepared with the edge of my Xiphos ..., every day I cut a piece of my arm! As I heal again, I fissure the meats that closed, letting the softness of my skin be the skin that restores the nail that will slice the second rows of concession arteries, so that they are assimilated to the third that could reach the same way as those received by the Mashiach. The length of the miracle is imperishable and the nails with a small head will make the break where they will not be finally nailed, interweaving the preparation vines that will cover my arm and that of Alexander the Great, more distant from the third arteries that still bleed, so that they are prepared in the fourth row of the syntagma group in the arteries that will be those that hold posterity carrying everything with my sectioned dexterity, but always holding onto the Xiphos behind the brilliant mortar of Arena. Nothing exists, everything only existed for the first entelechy of Zerubbabel when rebuilding, and our Redeemer uttered that everything will be turned into pieces of stones with bones of long wattles that would extend to the layers of clay being his tomb, that yes passing through the mortar that will make all mankind redo the sawdust of the whole earth towards the devastated earth. In this way, the four rows of arteries will lie in the preparation rows with my right arm burning when I first touched the Empyrean taking me with it from 775 BC. C. until the time of the first century of the Era of Our Lord ”.

Cosmic thought crossed the four brains of its component of unfolded time, after being attracted by the foolishness of the thoughts that traveled without generational limits of Tikun, in such a way that the thoughts that were fixed on the orthogonal of infinity were detached from time imperceptible with the summation of the loss of the unknowable space of the abstruse of the Vav Hei Vav, creating the total dissociation of the past from the peristyle of time, leaving the future numbed in the antiquity of the Hellenic past, but reviving it in the passing of the transgression mean, between the antitragus of the head of the four assistants of the Vav Hei Vav, to transfer them through the shell of each one in their inner ears when sizing what will pass silently through their cognitions and in their Over Being, or Quantum Being that will take them along paths from the 700 years old to the first century in the constitution of Hera in Olympia, and rather towards the recalcitrant subjection of the stones that made it up to be subject to the nurse nomenclature of the understanding of the cosmic thought of Vernarth, who had slender few sponsored in all the naturalities that tried their mimicry, doing nothing else what has not been noticed far from it, from where the natural deformation of cosmic thought will bend as it is transcribed in all the textual evolution of the four united minds of Vernarth, Alexander the Great, Saint John the Apostle and King David. The luminescence would be attracted by all the rivers in the Vernarth Opera with the Bumodos, Eygues, Lethe, Euphrates and Nile, Acheron (the river of sorrow), Cocytus (laments), Phlegethon (fire), Lethe (oblivion), and Styx. The Bumodos would be the stigma of the pain of the Thymus of Vernarth that would be even more active and sensitive than his heart, and the Eygues that would be his faithful companion that would help him to promote the pains of lost loves with Wonthelimar, when the haze and storm left him alone in the sugary sand with labyrinths and the contact of the last frictions of his loved ones, leaving only messes in a Siddartha that would tend to be tempted by humanity, making us believe that nothing is more powerful than the propensity of evil to have in the constitution transgenerational family, to remain anchored in Ha-Shatán's slander, harassing immanent relics of the worship of man who settled on the banks of rivers in the expectation of quenching their thirst for wisdom or for the Vav Hei Vav, as a portal of entry of the trip around the world that unites us with our encore adventures, that are always united to the past of the upper ***** and that does not leave us any second of the present in his waves of contemplation as a Hoplite man in the fantasy of his dreams, managing to make the rivers of oblivion or Lette propitiate the future that will not make him forget what in the past was an underground part of the currents of a watery thought, what is The verb will be and should be the subjugation of those around him who harasses himself.

In this way, the words ran in the sorry speed of the harassment of the immobile Ha-Shatán but fiercely restrained by what surrounded the verb as in the meadows of Ein Kerem that was surrounded by the contours that made her not fatigue in the gaze of the heaven, when everything that was close was in fullness with the organic nature that contained it, and everything that was summarized from the rhythm of the Hexagonal Chapel of the Shepherds in its rhythm, like a swarm between winds that carried pollinations in the first words that they contained themselves from the latter to later reconnect themselves by means of the buckles carried by the offspring of the lambs and the primordial respiration of the Cosmos, which they said above all as a verb that sprouted in the seeds themselves that were escaping from their reproductive capacity. Vernarth already knew that he had little time left to be near his Hoplites and that the ocean of arrows that would fall on his destiny would be from bittersweet Theosophy that would fall on the back of the herd, like Manna that would emancipate itself in tons of languages that can define the Thought that may pre-exist. Perhaps thinking, but anchored in the turn that contains him, between words that would no longer be writing or any wisdom that reduces him, rather the gesture of the Peri Kosmous that would transmit something to us through those who do not speak or indicate ..., rather of the same abstraction of all the Pelicans that would advance by the vital energies that wear away the concepts that sway between the waves by the Aegean seas, and of the silence that of this same thing already begins to lose the horizon in the gaze of your observer. Nothing was friction that generated words that could be the sustenance of an Era that was spent for more than seven hundred years in the hands of the oppressors who would waste it in seven seconds, leaving everything in the hierarchy of a reality as the Plan of the Spare Universe. called Duoverso, which was precisely the simple river that joins both Universes lying between themselves as the appearance of the river Acheron or permanent misfortune, imagining ourselves in every bad good fit to balance our thoughts where the first will be offshoots of the Vernarth principle, until four o'clock. arteries that prosper to reach an occult knowledge, where every being that walks twice the same way is not the reality of the times in which every day the footsteps of the Mashiach are seen from Bethany to Ophel or from Ophel to Bethany, like an anthroposophic hill and foundations that will make the city of David seven hundred meters high, carrying this peristyle in the gallery of time, going through the majestic iteration of the journey of the imperceptible quantum being seven times in a row with the seven long paths of the rebound between Bethany and Ophel, on the very promontory of Saturn reviving them in the narrow promontories that make you see that thought is more than a sacred place to remember what is dear, which is precisely what is to be appreciated and observed when some steps escape and are not of the forged walk of the Mashiach from Kidron to the Tyropoeon; towards the escarpment that would put the relays of the new sheep that will also graze on Patmos, and that despite the turns of antiquity will be the strip between the ancient era and the Middle Ages, as precepts of the sacred mountains that will grow in the eschatological of the advent of Thuellai when Profitis Ilias was the source of synergy in the figure that will unite them among the evil that grows Vg The Golgotha and the sacrifice *** Bei Himnom, proceeding with Zion of the Earth and David, as a precept of the plains of forgiveness in the Moriah from where Abraham, already provided with his “Hey”, mediated and possessed the benevolence of the Maker to bring to life to his Son Isaac, to shelter him in the rubble in everything that was not of his patriarch's fruit, and then it could be reissued in the nobility of an epigram that would be the return to Ophel after having crossed the circumflex of the word used in this paragraph, to continue through the mountains that will be the emphasis of Patmos, constituting the square for its defense and blocking all the walls of history that will be carriers of all the threat of installed evil, making them the systemic forces reluctant and doomed on the southern ***** of the Temple Mount in Jerusalem between Tyropoeon to the west and the Kidron Valley to the east dominating the ill-gestated shadow of Ha-Shatan.
Enthasis
Francie Lynch Apr 2015
We are too much in the world
Of distant sirens, each one racing
To our homes.
The plume of smoke arrests me;
The shoe on the yellow-dotted line
I passed, wondering how one limps home,
Not noticing.
The other night I heard the empty thud
Of flesh and skin and then my cell was vibrating.
I have a message from South Carolina,
FB wants to befriend us;
Twitter assails us;
What's Ap pesters;
E-mail harasses.
We have more messaging orifices
Than a Bell operator,
And hearts beat faster with every siren,
Every baby's cry.
Night shades, ear plugs
And sensory deprivation
Will only heighten our anxiety.
We're kissing urns and spitting ashes.
Our connection falters.
A tip of the cap to W. Wordsworth, "The World is Too Much With Us."
Daan Apr 2017
You were engulfed, in flower beds, by pink
clouds and wooly masses, dogs and fishes,
waiting for some game to load, I think.
This is ineffably, inexplicably daunting
how my mind harasses hours in some fade out mode.

I was manic, forged by panic in unhealthy
seas and waves. This thing we have, how it behaves,
is clueless, sightless, blind yet anything but fightless.
We aim to work for all we want,
I can't stop thinking, linking every action,
every contraction that has lead me to feel for you.

You were hidden, I was shortly ridden of the smell,
the hairy distractions, predicting how I ought to live.
Though you give me answers, I have no more questions
for every doubt is swept away.
Even when I play I can't be wrong, neither can you
in any thing we'd think we'd do.

We're always right and always winning,
don't forget, we're only just beginning.
Challings met pedro
Emily Jane Feb 2013
Thinking about you gives me a pit in my stomach.
hitting deep to the core of everything
that pesters, harasses, and eats me up.

holding my head as if somehow that
erases the memories of the agony piercing.
but you, are permanent. Never changing.

Wiping my eyes of everything that is you.
A tear for the laughter and
a tear for the pain.
Chapter VI
Strigoi frigate

In the spring of 331 a. C., Alexander left Egypt returning to the port of Tire, where his fleet was. From there he went to Antioch, crossing the valley of the Orontes River, and reached the Euphrates River at the height of Tapsaco, where he founded the city of Nicephorus to be a stronghold and deposit for army supplies. Here he learned that Darío was in Arbelas, so he crossed the Tigris and headed north along the eastern bank of the river. Vernarth's troops would depart from Tire where his fleet was located, which came from Sudpichi, from the Horcondising Empire. Legend has it that in the heights of the Gulf, when his army had been sailing, a mysterious tempest of hot winds from Hormuz broke out on his squads, at the heights of 665 miles from Um kasar, they had encountered a ship from present-day Romania . When spotting them and intervening inside this frigid ship, there was nothing but the creaking of their masts and their main **** spurring, they presented palisade curtains that came from Sighisoara / Transilvania; where the very like Vlad Tepes was sitting behind the captain's camera writing at his desk. Every so often he would take out a handkerchief to dry his ****** nose like drops of slimy, slimy jelly ink. He was writing a letter in the text of which said:

Vlad Tepes says to the Vernarth captain:
Mardiath,  his noble and loyal hussar of the sea. Head of his Gulf fleets, he came across the deck, as he turned around by the bowsprit, picked up and struck by some parasitic ropes that shone like lost thighs of gods in prayers they felt for the whistles of the wind. He approaches and descends the dark ladder stairs towards the water pump whose heresies this ship Vladiana was hanging.
“When I train myself to write saying who I am who I am, I only receive from the purulence of the multitudes, in centuries by centuries, not finding a basis to answer me. They say they do not know what to answer because there is no content that compares to those who have no Age, Life or compassion. That I only have to communicate with the Strigoi messenger articulated with the souls of the dead who come out of their graves at night to terrorize the neighborhood. That it is the same as me condemned to sail and swarm the World of the Nosferatu aristocracy, survivor of all human vanity, in all the empires of the World”

Now I know that no one will answer my thoughts. There is no ink that dares spread a comparable feather that resists my words of ammonia Strigoi, usurped from a Balinger ship to some Flemish pirates, seconded by a Panescalm barge, which was throwing 64 thousand massacred bodies of the Bubonic Plague.

Mardiath, graduated from the balinger and left her sword to Vlad next to a geographical table to find her destiny in some maiden who attends to her disorders more than her ganglia suppurate discouragement. He heads back to Tire to meet Vernarth. And her minions,  to finally head to the wild fields of Gaugamela.
On the gallon of the Macedonian Wine cruet Vlad left him a notice...:

“In order for Strigoi to leave their victims alone, seeds must be scattered with nails hidden inside them. These obsessive creatures cannot go their way without first counting the seeds by throwing the brides' lace to the altar. When they ***** with the hidden nails, they start counting again… ”

In the frenzy of his prophecies, Darius had recruited a new army after his defeat at Issos. From Babylon he advanced north, passed the left bank of the Tigris, and continued toward Arbelas as if guessing that he would never escape the Alexandrian shadow, where he established his supply and his harem. Then he directed the army to Gaugamela, a place that had a wide plain that would favor the movement of its numerous mounted troops but not on Hellenic horses with Homeric gales within reach. He even proceeded to level the terrain and remove obstacles as if emphasizing fearing that the moon would resemble holes in his strategies where his dreams would fall, turning Gaugamela into an immense field of maneuvers suitable and great and indigestible for his chariots equipped with scythes to move on the oppressor wheels.

Thirty-sixth Oases in Siwa:
Alexander Magnus after founding Alexandria he marches to the Siwa oasis, where he is proclaimed by the priests as "son of Ammon", god already identified with Zeus by the Greeks. With this, he consolidated his own divine ancestry, as a descendant of the Argéada dynasty, which went back to Heracles and, therefore, to Zeus himself.

The entire dynasty moved from its acropolis under the limits of each empire to what would be the final battle. This time Darío does not want surprises, so he arrives at the battle stage in advance. As always, he has his cavalry on the flanks, with the heavy infantry in the center and the rear. It also has more than 50 war chariots with sickles on the wheels and about 15 elephants.

Alexander launches the attack diagonally and the Persian left wing defends himself as best he can. Vernarth, Simultaneously harasses Strigoi's allegories by subordinating the Persian chariots that speedily launch upon the Macedonians. Many of the drivers are headless by the arrows of the draconian archers. The rest pass by as the Macedonian infantry opens. This strategy is complemented by a second line of heavy infantry called the Force of the Dead from in the Siwa Mountains, which receives the stray tanks, while the first line turns around and attacks them from the rear guard surrounding them. Opening a gap between the Persian lines, Alexander's cavalry managed to wedge themselves in search of Darius. As in Issos, the Persian king is stuck and unable to maneuverIn this onslaught, see how the prognosis moves more fluidly, after the textual support with Strigoi in his Balinger he was able to allow himself to advance the ellipsis of the ****** battle and more importantly of the defenders of the embolism of the tyrant and secular Gods, in his caves of lost and soul pains. Since this last festival of the Siwa soils, the events of Alexander Magnus and Vernarth can be seen.

He only separated the lashed rows of threads from the majestic Bumodos, before entering the back room of the great fight. It is now thirty-six times that he needs the therapeutic methods of Walekiria, to supply him through his veins with ****** essences to immortalize his stout columns that support the beams of the Hellenic world.  Caryatid that flows through the delta of the cries of all the heroes,  devoid of helmets under the limits to resign.

Ellipsis Tomb of the Patriarchs:
Vernarth says: You are not a vision ... nor an illusion, nor a lonely image, because if so, include my image to accompany you in this tragedy! He tells Walekiria, his seductive valhalica.
My little Walekiria, not the slightest disdain, will make me leave you halfway, we are in the same position to remove the terror that creeps through the spaces of the plain of the Gaugamela cemetery. Here we will scare away all the demons that betray our plans. Only you here in the Charioteer's particle crypt. Mardiath tied to the acacia and Alikanto spitting out more fiery fires that will reduce the unproductive paperwork. To improve that others optimize the sharp means to use to overcome the medium that has darkened all hopes. Now we are going to plot the plans that we have improvised in this barracks.

Walekiria says to him:
My mind together with my feeling make me closer to you Verbarth. It seems that now more than ever I will hold on to you more. Since our gross bodies lack any possibility of holding together.

Vernarth when leaving says to him:
Of the cosmic forms, yours Being has been hit in my box in Andromeda. Vitalizing and healthy part will strengthen what remains of your exploded mind and my elevated feeling to the ethereal worlds, will make rainbow emblems for your resentment.

To be continued… / under edition
STRIGOI FRIGATE
emilawho Sep 2018
Obnoxious words
I carry between my teeth
No, no
I can't let them escape my grip
Jaw locked
Mouth dry
Shaking

Why do you have so much to say
Keep it in, keep it in

These are secrets
These are spells
Enchanted
Charmed
Distraught
Look what ache you can cause
Don't you dare release them

The overthinking *****
In my body
Harasses me

Emotions linger
The guilt
The shame

In the end,
I know if I release these obnoxious words
Nothing--
Absolutely NOTHING, would ever be the same.
Chloe Zafonte Mar 2017
Being a bully in today's world is not someone who harasses you. It is those who tell the truth. Our generation is so coddled, preventing people from being hurt. Surrounding yourself with fake friends while your parents are too scared to say anything as well. Living in your own world is all fun and games, until someone comes along and is honest. Then it falls apart. Facts do not vanish when your emotions are on display.
Yo wish I could hear your voice we suppose to get a Rolls Royce
Visions of choice I which it wasn't so much noise my poise
Is broken still hoping souls tryna cope and I'm feeling satan
Leeching into my souls since i broke away from our own tolls
Of life **** baby you was suppose to be my **** wife
But god the father took ya home early though portals
Of the hidden eyes spies on the wise Angel's to demons scheming
**** I cant even see the cleaning ***** looks from the books
I under look spiritual am i wise once i learn to magnetize flys
9 soon to baptize my soul check the fiery glow bricks to sto'
Big ruby bezels it's a ritual in the making no time for shaking
The breaks I **** stakes watch out for the jakes I shake
Wish the pain wasn't so real now I'm feeling alone with the peels
Caps perhaps I need a dirt nap to let my body rest in a collapse
Living exodus deaths genesis pour up another bottle of Guiness
Records to play match every thing I say spin it wickedly
Then ***** it slowly so I can control thee souls of rock n roll
Take a stroll down the valley of gloomy skull to show
How pain effects us daily when some just passed away
Daily maybe it's just a lesson in life I ain't got no joy had a boy
But couldn't play pops always harasses by the cops props
Staged twelve gauge my lyrics from a hidden cage full of rage
Ready to let go ****** ****** still blasting at my fake disciples



Yeah late night flashback see the diamonds in the back
No cadillacs but I keep the gats in the back trunk waves
Serenade the airwaves these days 360 spinning waves
Low cut diamond axis baby girl was the biggest factor
Now I cant think straight driving drunk over the interstate
Feel fate my souls pourin out like stormy nights kites
Smoothing Duke Ellington flows a mellow mood crudes
Dejavu to crews catch these blues I'm spinning early like news
Morning til the break of dawning no time for pawning spawning
Out the hells bath feel my wrath all serious joker play no laugh
Applied the math no subtraction but mad addition bullets spitting
Spider web ya suspension fail signs pined crossed off the timeline
I cant shine because I let darkness confine this is the cure
Remedy part two for sure I gotta keep it pure distilled my will
So I could heal but the pains digging to deep it's like a steel
Plated knife now I'm tryna thing of ways to entice a slice
Off of the books of death still holding my breath no accounts
Amounts to nothing wisdoms unbuttoned expose something
Yo I'm leaking demons out my flesh this is just a mic check
One two rolling to a hood near you yo nature I feel you
Looked at the trees enjoyed the breeze from stars to the seas
I sees part of my souls flees where the afterlife people tease
My conscious I'm ready to go ready to let go off evil people
Ask myself why im stuck on this earth here ****** fear
But my souls dont wanna be here slave to the flesh it's a mess still tryna break the rate of success
Walk between the double I's phantasm alien invasion
Blazing beats to a cajun darkness back once agains cast stones to my sins maybe then I'll see a win...whoooaaa
David R Sep 2022
Will e'er that wave be seen again,
royalty in the flesh,
duty coursing in blue blood vein,
eyes smiling, ever fresh?

did ever loyalty to a nation
better to its god coalesce
than in this woman of higher station,
impeccable manners and dress?

through constant batter from the press
through broadside and invective
never ever gave in to stress
never lost perspective

never bent before harasses
laconic maligning from guys 'n lasses
unkind comments from the masses
as they peered through vergrößern glasses

flagship to her people
a tower and a steeple
stood ramrod straight as maypole
shining love rays from a sun-soul

now the fluttering flag's at half-mast
as she's lowered into ground
as the thousands rally past
as her son is newly crowned

exponent of her christian faith,
substantive, positive hope
now pure essence, elusive wraith,
gone in swift elope

Never again will we see that wave,
so true and fast and pure.
for duty now waves from the grave
on stone for e'ermore.
BLT's Merriam-Webster Word of The Day Challenge
#coalesce broadside invective laconic exponent substantive
Amanda Kay Burke Feb 2021
The world I had with you is over
This time we are done for good
I won't forget the magic
Even if my brain could

Pessimistic I have always been
I'm being honest
More
Becoming more bitter and sad
Since second you walked out the door

I see truth so clearly now
In the open for everyone to view
Sensed it under the surface for awhile
Convinced myself it wasn't true

Difficulty harasses at each turn
Am unable to function at all
Too exhausted to carry weight of the planet
I collapse to the ground and crawl

In each direction lies certain failure
Nowhere safe to go
I spin circles in our small spot
Consumed by vertigo

Opportunity passed me by
Is never coming back
Too much time wasted on you
I can't get my life on track

The optimist sees glass half-full
Never really was my perspective
Looking on the bright side of things
Proved being ineffective

In each challenge thrown my way
Fight for success with no luck
By my overwhelming weakness defeated
Lack of self-assurance has me stuck

The chance I had at happiness
Blew and so you're moving on
I don't know who's fault it truly is
All I'm sure of is that you're gone
Muluuta Mugagga Mar 2020
Surrounded by hundreds of friends
feeling the warmth of society blanket
emptiness creeps enters my body
finds its way to the deepest chamber of my heart!
harasses me without mercy
emptiness is a reailty
Yenson Aug 2019
Please be quiet and upstanding
for our **** brains of Blighty are in attendance
and shrilling their pearls of wisdom on behalf of their masters

So please listen carefully and let these grain seep into your minds
and if done rightly it should bother and give you nightmares
it should confuse you and horrify you and leave you depressed
it should haunt you and confuse you and make you feel demoralized

So listen or read them all carefully and take it all into your weak brains
These are all from the recognized Manuals of Criminal gang-stalking

refer below:

A Target has been Black-Listed -- often out of revenge for having spoken out -- and is regularly slandered and harassed -- in an organized protocol known as Gang-Stalking.
================================================
P­erp: Perps ruthlessly slander, stalk, and harass TIs -- for money, expectation, or enjoyment -- they are schooled at deceiving and Gagging People (GP), then recruiting them into participating
================================================
Ha­ndler: A cowardly Handler remains unseen -- they pull strings -- and use Perps and GPs to stalk, harass, and slander the Target -- each Target has a ruthless Handler that manages their targeting.  Handlers are cowards who pull strings, and oversee the slander and harassment, onto Targets -- using Perps and GPs.
=================================================
Troll: A Troll stirs things up, and harasses people on the Internet. They are un-paid -- and do it because they enjoy it.

So please pray be quiet and let the trolls of Blighty do their job, there is job satisfaction at stake here.
So please lets us make them happy by giving time the time and
respect they deserve
They are wonderful people doing a very important job for criminals
and they do it because they enjoy it.
Gang stalking is a human rights abuse that violates even the most basic human rights of the pursuit of liberty and happiness. It violates privacy - there is none. It's been termed "slow death" and "soft death" because it breaks the human spirit and can result in suicide (forced suicide) - it's slow and leaves little evidence behind. I just read that Ernest Hemingway was under surveillance for 20 years and committed suicide. Lots of these "suicides" on law-abiding citizens were actually forced and to cover it up even more, Targets are called "mentally ill."

I once thought forced suicides were something used in the Middle East to get around laws against honor killings -- or in the old Soviet Union against dissidents, now I know that they are not specific to the Middle East or the old Easter Block. The Socialist and Criminals in Blighty do it on its own citizens.

Please contact your elected officials to pass anti-surveillance laws. Gang stalking can happen to anyone, at anytime. It's illegal and unethical. Preserve the right to liberty and the pursuit of happiness. Protect privacy and human dignity. Allow everyone the right to being notified of their wrong doing, the right to a fair trial and jury, and the right to official penalties - not some covert slow death.

— The End —