"hyped" poems
The king had a terrific ***
The *** ran a race & won it!
The media glorified it and put,
'The King's *** Won The Race!'
The king felt embarrassed,
He gave his *** to the queen.
The media again hyped it and put,
'A Royal Exchange: The Queen Has The Best *** In The Kingdom!'
The royal family felt frustrated & flustered,
They decided to do away with the *** now.
The Queen's *** which earlier was the King's *** was abandoned in the forest,
The royalty felt at ease now.
But the media hyped it too!
***THE ROYAL *** GOES WILD!!!***
Dec 9, 2015
Dec 9, 2015 at 9:27 PM UTC
angry men, get more done, but angry men die very young
you see my dad was always getting angry, nobody knows why he did
you see he was waiting for the perfect time to stop treating me like a kid
you see dad was angry at me because i didn’t clean my computer table
and he also was angry at me for converting to the cindrella cleaning system
you see angry men get things done, but they also die very young, dad was young, at age 75
i miss his helpful side, by helping me understand the computer
like art colony, writers cafe, and hello poetry and FACEBOOK, man
you see i hated dads frown, you see angry people die very young
i am not one of those angry people, that is why i am frustrated
because people are trying to push my nice side up to space
and my evil side i want to get rid of, cause, i am not shy to look ********
but i am a complete normie, only nerds are angry, very angry nerds
they will die very young, very very young
i hated my dads angriness, cause he hyped me up
i knew dad would die first, because he show his happy side like me
i am not living in the past for anyone
dad was angry, he helped me with the computer, i say thanks to the paranormal dad
but i still thought that dad was a cranky man
hail to the yobbos the yobbos the yobbos
hail to the yobbos and the old cranky dad
i know dad isn’t teasing, but he is an old cranky dad
i am the happiest dude in canberra, happier than anyone
i help the poor, i help the poor
an old cranky dad sits there up on cloud 9 wanting
pat has powers to take old hags out of people
old hags who are trying to be cool kids
ANGRY MEN GET THINGS DONE, BUT THEY DIE YOUNG LIKE DAD
ANGRY MEN GET THINGS DONE, BUT THEY DIE YOUNG LIKE DAD
ANGRY MEN GET THINGS DONE, BUT THEY DIE YOUNG LIKE DAD
i am a cool young dude, i have a lot of fun
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
I pity anyone visiting us with
A language besides English;
Who tries to understand the words
We like to use with relish.
We seem to say so many words
Just to keep our lips busy.
It occurs to me the so much of it
Has never graced a dictionary.
Upscaling, downsizing
Offloading the whole magilla
The whole nine yards, bottom liine
The big honcho, the whole enchilada
I was completely plussed and then
I had my self a hissy fit
I didn't know I had a flabber,
'Til someone went and gasted it.
Hanging out, kicking back
Into myself and whatever
***** it, man. I am like, wow.
And y'know, yodda yodda yodda.
Some mean kinda fudpucker
Betcher bippees, yabba dabba doo.
Mazoomas and headlights,
Totally hyped megabitch, too.
Talkin' about 'sup bro
Stufflike windas and winders.
Jammin and gittin widdit
And sumpinbout pillas and pillers.
So, I goes and he goes,
And I'm all jazzed and by golly.
It really rocks, rad to the max
Get down to some serious party.
Sixes an sevens, p's and q's
What's your point? Get real!
It's pretty much a ******
So, what's the big deal?
Too much, I mean it's tough,
And stuff, and really far out, man.
Twenty three skiddo old bean.
Just a flash in the pan.
It ***** It blows, It bites, big time
A wicked righteous mindfuck.
Get jiggy with it. Kiss my crank;
Slob my **** Lord Love-a-duck.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 5:24 PM UTC
If my life were a movie it would be one of those films that gets hyped up to no end because I’m one of those kids with the rough childhood who just wants to make it
When in reality it’s just a less action packed but just as dark dc movie
My story has also been confused with a marvel movie since the protagonist is me
And i can't help but cut my overbearing traumatic tragedies with self deprecating comedies
But my life to me feels more like an edgar wright movie where the action isn’t as exciting as The fact that I was able to get out of bed this morning
And my day to day reality will forever feel like a motion blur of edited out negative emotion
I think Maybe my life could be a wes anderson movie stuck in one color palette for the rest of my eternity
And my maturity tends to overwhelm me
my journey is like an anderson movie because i tend to create a world around me
Taking time to shape my own protected reality so that the outside world can’t hurt inside me
If im being honest though i want my life to be a spielberg movie that grabs attention of all ages coming from all sorts of places
I want to spin my truths into his fantastic fantasies where no one equates my past with me
But at the same time I want my life to be a blast from the past john hughes movie where i find a way to stop my past from haunting me
And everything ends up okay at the end of the day because my minds overbearing insecurities
No longer have control over me
Now i see that in actuality other peoples movies are just too much for who i truly want to be and how my trauma impacts me
I mean between my all of those boring biographies and my abundance of favorite movies
I’d want my life’s movie to be full of images depicting my fondest memories and all my angsty gen z tendencies
If my life were a movie i’d make it about how I am, or was, or am going to be
If my life were a movie I’d make it about me
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 12:24 PM UTC
Where buses still elapse with Time
Down straight Dame Street
The Trees are satellites that allow Children to look up
and let the pavement breath.
Earthen Columns that gate the Boombox Clubhouse tint
Flanked by the Yeoman Guards of Hollister
but forget to pay the same compliment
outside of American Apparel
Where Teenagers dream out fantasies
of lamp-lit, flash-shot
worship-worthy objectification
in a converted loft in the real New York
Their headphones spring streams of bright optimism
as they cradle knitted knee-high socks.
Take the curve round Trinity College
and laugh past the rumours
that it may soon float on Dow Jones
and dodge past the charity advertisers
Strutting over campbags of sleeping homeless
to Lemon Cafe for an overpriced Mocha
Which regardless deflates the sheen-covered hollowness
of green-comfy Starbucks
and learn the subtleties of speaking lightly
to dark-jaceketed Blonde girls
Whose eyes seem to sparkle "Yes, we have sipped
on Veuve Clicquot at reserved tables on Graduation nights
at Cafe En Seine"
-"Where Oscar Wilde might have drank"
- "..Had he been alive."
Then speculate on the best Festivals and whose
Films and Books are over-hyped and under-appreciated
and the after-College Gossip on who broke-up or stayed together
or who hooked up even though they shouldn't have
or regretted it
and who's doing a paid internship and who's moving abroad
and afterwards charmingly tease their superficial attitudes
as meanwhile they secretly take photos
to upload on Instagram
and later you'll fake-admonish them
for how they did this behind your back
while you were staring into the lake
in St. Stephen's Green.
When the moon no longer glazed the water
and had receded its contrast to the farthest grass
and you decide to take the last bus home.
Throughout
Caution Glints The Vowels
and Brands them too.
May 16, 2014
May 16, 2014 at 10:11 AM UTC
Watching the media, all hyped
Due to their own accord
Pushing us forward
Helping us to goard
Upon the sins we so readily devour
All within this 11th hour
Hearing TV tell us to care
About all these material things
Never telling us quite how
To deal with the emptiness this brings
The greed it creates all but devours
Then jealousy soon flowers
Everyday our fascination grows
Within this world we live
And every day our lives compact
To where we cease to give
To those around us, that become devoured
We stand still, such the coward
Violence, agony, death and despair
Climb up the ranks
Feeding the greed and jealousy
Gee, Thanks!
Yet we are still fascinated, devouring
Their celebrities powering
All these empty thoughts we need to think
Which force our hearts to sink
We need to get back to what is to give
And remember what is like to live
As a community
© September 25, 2009 Deanna Repose
Repoosted from: blog.deannarepose.com
Sep 26, 2009
Sep 26, 2009 at 6:00 AM UTC
It's simple it's short
the main drug you snort
pumped hyped your proud,
next dumped in the croud.
Lifted Drifted out like a cloud .
Puff this it's cherry my main ***** that mary
out with a ducey took off with ya lucey
one shot six shot guzzlin like it's juice
"G"
Got that molly, So call me
$et it we'll ball see.
Drugs over hugs,
we don't need them thugs,
thass what I got thaught never baught
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 1:48 PM UTC
it’s simply awesome
how much energy
is spent to document
the newness of the news
no matter how repetitive
may be the words of the reporters
the hype needs to be built
no matter whether right or stilted
driven by fear the topic might be wilted
a minute later
and half an hour later
you hear the same with minor variations
adorned with various speculations
so that the viewers may get the illusion
it’s NEW – though it is old,
and just repetitive
an endless loop of hyped-up trivialities
of who did what and when and why
maybe with whom or not
makes you aware that even new banalities
rarely include what really matters
to the majority of people on this globe
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 5:10 PM UTC
Browsing best of craigslist while my brother blasts his music, but it's okay because it's better than the Christian rock I have to listen to from another roommates room.
The house is chaos and I live in this world, it ***** me in and spits me back. It affects my personal relationship with the outside world, people come on it and get trapped in the time warp. There is no other reality, and outside of this house no one knows, what goes on inside.
My basement room is dark, cave like, and I squint my eyes as I write this because the Christmas lights that were given to gleam over my head and make the space around me pink. I look in the corner of my eye, and there is my pathetic lamp that doesn't really even light the corner. All of this I accept, I even become accustomed to the lack of light.
You ever google “roommates that are douches” or “nightmare roommates”?...that sounds about right, right? Everything listed is very apparent in this house. We all are just living together, separated and oddly together. Getting high, getting low and getting all hyped up and eventually in each others faces, struggling to not let go and make it crazy, because we all came from crazy and we're currently battling the current monsters that live inside our head.
Some of us have diagnosis, while others obsessively google their symptoms, thinking up illnesses, while others have true deadly illnesses and trying to wash away the days without poisoning ourselves. Poison feels good when it comes down, it's as if you are doing something bad to your body but it feels so good, and eventually you fall into a mood, whether it be anxiety or true following bliss you know that this is within your body and it is something you have come to accept.
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
I finally took the sweatshirt out of my car
It smells like you
Hotel linen suffocating my senses
And for a moment I'm lost
Even though we're not great together
You still run through my mind too often
The quiet nights in your dorm room
Walking along the beach together
Me making jokes in the haunted house to calm your anxiety
Talking to goats at the pumpkin farm
Even getting hyped while playing video games
You are everywhere
And I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss you
It's so conflicting because
I know we were unhappy at the end
But maybe it could've worked out
If I tried a little harder
Instead of just giving up
But I didn't know where it would go
And it wasn't healthy anymore
You wanted forever and I wasn't sure I could give you that
I'm trying so hard to live in the moment these days
Which is hard when I can't stop thinking about you
But I hope you're doing ok
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 12:39 PM UTC
Coming home, I feel I’m a fan
on the stage of an amped up rock show
in front of a hyped up crowd, about to dive –
will you promise to catch me
before my jump turns into a fall?
Carry me over your wavelike faces,
your hands holding me, floating me over to
the dance floor with you
all.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 1:19 PM UTC
I don't feel the way I had imagined
I would feel by the time I had gotten here
Paper scraps littering a lengthy path
An ivory album half filled to the gills
Most pages just blips and blackouts
A garden of blooming disappointments
I hyped up the experience too much
Everything feels so terribly lack luster
Now I'm almost always half asleep
And the days feel like I pressed repeat
I don't feel the way I had imagined
Though times have been much worse
And I'm alright with seeing the sunrise
The boredom is better than binging
Waking in such a painful panic
But I've kept the promise this time
Feb 28, 2022
Feb 28, 2022 at 2:05 AM UTC
"Tadpoles and Dragons"
Scared a lil, fear full a lil, I'm telling myself to try a lil
I wouldn't know the difference if I lie a lil
But first I'll curse
Eat dinner quench my thirst
Wash my flesh then cry a lil
Walk it off
Man up and face the mirror
flex the guns then sigh a lil
Strong and steady
Game face on I'm ready
Breath in deep wave goodbye a lil
Tell ya'll I love you in case I die a lil
Hear my theme song as they chant my name time for some hope time for some change.
I'm all hyped up I'm gone though I ask why a lil The next time we meet I'm gonna fly a lil.
Alexis J. Meighan
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 8:56 PM UTC
Bought a painting of Jaden Smith,
now wait before you diss,
give me a second to explain,
there’s a story that goes along with it,
see he had a show in LA,
and of course it was on the 7th,
3rd show of the tour,
and the tour was called Vision,
I hadn’t planned to go,
didn’t even know about the show,
until my brother Alpha told me about it,
and the cards aligned in a row,
see a few days before,
I’d backed my car into a wall,
and I had to take it to East LA,
to get it fixed in other words resolved,
now it just so happened,
that the day I took it to get fixed,
was the same day as Jaden’s show,
now that’s some Cosmicness,
see the show was downtown,
and I usually don’t go east of the 405,
but this time I did to get my car fixed,
and I asked a friend to pick me up because I couldn’t drive,
so she picked me up,
and then my other friend told me of an art show,
at a place called The Brewery,
and man how I love art shows,
so after dropping off the car,
and went to The Brewery,
where I bought some art,
because I like to collect future history,
now the girl that had picked me up,
was having a rough day,
because her brother had died 6 months earlier,
and today was his birthday,
so she had to leave,
and go to the beach,
and I stayed behind,
to let her have some peace,
and as it so happened,
there was another anniversary at a gallery called The Hive,
I told you the cards were in a row,
and of course the stars were aligned,
so I went to the next art gallery,
got a ride there from a beautiful Polish chic,
bought some more art at there as well,
I guess I am what a Collector is,
then it just so happened,
that I was walking distance from Jaden’s show,
so I walked through downtown,
until I arrived at The Novo,
now I didn’t have a ticket,
and the show as sold out,
but I found a side door,
and it opened right up,
I went inside,
and got with the vibes,
man that kid Jaden,
knows how to get the crowd hyped,
during the show,
I kept seeing someone in the front row,
try to hand Jaden a painting,
a painting of himself,
after the show,
I was thrown Jaden’s yellow bandana,
then I exited outside,
and away from the arena,
when I got to the exit,
I saw the kid with the painting,
it had Jaden and Willow’s signature,
and as I said before I collect paintings,
so I bought it right then and there,
blame synchronicities,
so it’s not so much I seek out art,
as art comes to me,
all part of the vision,
of starting the Art Center in New Zealand,
where we can feel safe and socialize,
and remember what it was like when we still had feelings,
and all that I see now,
in this painting I have,
of Jaden Smith,
dressed as Batman,
bought a painting of Jaden Smith,
now wait before you diss,
give me a second to explain,
there’s a story that goes along with it…
∆ LaLux ∆
The new book is 100% FREE here: www.scribd.com/document/388173677
Sep 15, 2018
Sep 15, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
I swiped.
We matched!
I hyped!
We latched!
And patched. Yet another broken heart.
Sometimes I wonder why I even bother.
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 5:55 PM UTC
All it takes is a moment,
And all my happiness can fall into despair.
In just a split second,
I can go from having the best day ever,
To just another day of the week.
Equally though,
I can slip from an anxiety attack,
Straight into euphoric insanity.
But it isn't all causeless.
Yet the effects shouldn't be of such a great intensity.
It's like my emotions are hyped up on steroids,
And I can't keep them stable for long,
Before they return to this up and down,
Roller coaster ride called my life.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
Willows weep
Shadows grin
Mothers lie
Daughter sin
Feelings bleed
Hyped minds spin
Colors clash
Mouths of tin
Sleepless nights
Shark's black fin
Cracked up bowls
Want to win
Roses red
Smiles of gin
No fix real
Unwashed din
Honeyed song
Prideless kin
Jesus waits
Pull this pin.
May 5, 2014
May 5, 2014 at 5:34 PM UTC
Stone hall with concrete walls
Perched with colours of the crown
Ripped down for united minds
Dole queue patriots hyped with delusions of grandeur
Camped upon corners, moaning ****** ******
Laying claim to title of white line champions
Still the law sheath batons
Sharing guarded desire
With debased brethren
So united the occupied stand
Defying foreign lords who oppress ancestral land
Awaiting the day the crown falls defiled
And high flies the green, white and gold.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
I avoid writing poems about flowers
I don’t need to tell you that roses
Bright, blood red, placed perfectly atop a broccoli-green vine,
Existing solely for the purpose of atheistic pleasure
Is something that is beautiful
Put a white background behind anything and it becomes beautiful
Flowers are more than a hyped-up beauty pageant queen that those old white women grow to fill their voids with
They sometimes manage to grow in my neighborhood too
Once prominent Victorian homes now squalid and neglected
Weathered wood, dirt embedded in the sea-foam green, navy blue, eggshell white paint they were once coated with
Trash thrown in front of their faces
Like their appalling forms granted validity for those who passed by to toss their gum wrappers, soda cans, and cigarettes without hesitation
It’s an age-old tale
Ugly things deserve ugly treatment
I’ll always spot a savage grove of mutt flowers
Amongst the trash cans and recycle bins
Struggling to make their way to the surface of these rejected homes
Acknowledging them, coddling them, interweaving themselves along their battered walls
Ignorant to their repugnancy
Eager to decorate and give them an evanescent glow
Sad too,
Sad they didn’t grow in front of some rich family’s home
Where they would’ve been given weekly haircuts and fertilizer containing only the best **** on the market
They wilt a little
They have no direction,
No will to live or to die
They exist and sit there until a bike runs them over
And takes them out in one swoop
Or until those stray dogs **** and **** on them until their weak
Frames fall staunchly onto the grave sidewalk
Exquisite wild lepers,
You do more for society than I ever could
You’ll sit there with a dutiful posture
Harboring old McDonald French Fry boxes
Eating the sewer-infested dirt that you laboriously grew from
Constantly breathing air swarmed with smog
Beautiful because,
Despite it all,
You don’t hate them
You’ll peek at me through your prison of trash and give me a flash of your purple and blue skin
And
My eyes feel your love and serenity
And for a moment,
The world is nothing but a kaleidoscope of warm skin and heartbeats
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 11:06 AM UTC
My coffee was bland, but I was a dreamer.
I crafted my plan like a caffeine-hyped schemer.
To walk to the cabinet, lock in like a magnet,
On the oversized can full of cheap powdered creamer
Jan 30, 2017
Jan 30, 2017 at 12:51 PM UTC
It’s New Year’s Eve.
Cue the colorful ads all around the neighborhood, on park benches and random building pillars, and the commercials of that big city countdown in the middle of town. Cold winter snowflakes still on palms of those trudging through the layers of snow on the streets. The day stretches into the night as half the city prepares for that special midnight moment. Lipsticks applied and makeup spilled, dresses snatched from the stores and shoes grabbed from their shelves. As the hour draws near, everyone is gathered, waiting for the party to begin.
Lights are turned up, adrenaline is rushed, people are hyped and lives are being restored in their dead bodies.
Cheerful voices of the hosts fill the air, and a band plays in the background. Instruments contributing to the life of the party.
11:59 P.M.
Timers are set and cameras are ready.
10
9
8
7
6
5
4
3
2…
1!
Sky flowers cover the stars in a burst of sparks, and the sound of cameras snapping photos can be heard among the crying and screaming.
Lips are locked, embraces are warm and photos are Instragram-ed.
The night is young and hearts are joyful.
Such is the beauty of this one night.
(lunarlullubies)
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:26 AM UTC
Slam!
Here I am, look, listen.
Keep your eyes closed, your mind open,
Every night the same dream, so hyped up on caffeine you can’t
Think-
Stop and think about what’s going on.
Make it through each day just hazing barely coping hardly hoping
Remember please the door’s wide open.
Breathe a little more, take another breath
When you can all but keep from screaming this pain just seeming like
You can never stop and think about what’s going on.
Take a chance to cheat your death, skip the ****
Make your own choices with each and every breath.
Don’t follow the lines, break free of the common addiction.
The affliction is ours, no diction in our words to calm the friction;
Medicated dreams, sedated lives what we live for, but faded.
Huffing your cure, puffing you up, that doesn’t make you tough.
It makes you weak.
To those people who can’t feel their heart beating, their breath fleeting,
Who fight with all their might through each day not knowing if they still have the will to resist the pill;
To those who haven’t found their voice, who have but are not heard - are not blessed with the word-
Who fail even on their
Third try.
I speak for you; hear my voice, know that you can live through anything, be anything, say anything.
To those who say, I’m not anything- you are something, to some you are everything,
And nothing can take that away from you.
So drop the pills, harden your wills and stand strong!
So they put you down? Don’t lay defeated on the ground, stand up!
So yell, sing, be loud and let your message ring from ear to ear, mind to mind, heart to heart and
Make your start. Don’t be just somebody,
Be you.
Jun 14, 2012
Jun 14, 2012 at 12:59 AM UTC
She stared blankly at the computer screen
With its flickering screen of judgement.
What are you looking at?
Silence. A screensaver.
Enough of that sass.
It was finally complete.
Her hair wearing its disheveled frizz like a badge of honor
From all-night typing
And two pots of coffee
Where her comb-fingers turned the smoothness of her hair
Into a stress-reliever
As she muttered madly to herself
(But quietly, so as not to wake the roommates
Who slumbered in their honey chambers
Away from the heart of her hive of activity).
She had buzzed all night
On a caffeine-high
That made her hands tremble
Her muscles ache
And her eyes hate her.
And now
With too much to do
And a limited time to do it in
She had to keep buzzing.
Coffee *** number three was carefully stored
In a travel mug
That she clutched to her clavicle
Just to keep the warmth that much closer to her hyped-up heart.
She made her stops at offices and libraries
Retrieving promised letters
And printing the labors of her night intensive
Before she could finally deposit it
Behind the glass windows
Of the scholarship office.
This is too much work for less-than-ideal odds.
But she had no time to dwell
On the gamble she had made
And paid in hours of wakefulness
And the inked-up peelings from tree corpses.
She rushed from class to class
Where she tried to speak in coherent sentences,
To dance with sharp choreography,
And to contribute to society
But her body hated her
Because she had betrayed it
And deprived it of the only thing that it truly loved in this world:
Sleep.
It would have its vengeance.
It would have its vengeance when she was old, creaky, and could no longer move.
But for now, her body made do with small rebellions
To demonstrate its displeasure.
Sentences were not sentences
And every turn, leap, and twist
Made her think longingly of sleep.
And her body laughed.
But at long last,
The sun set
The girl slept
And then the sun rose.
And this continued to happen
Many times.
It rose and it set
It rose and it set
It rose and it set
Until she had forgotten
And her body had forgiven
The sleepless night.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 1:33 AM UTC
In the cloak of the night
night....so barbarous and still
still many eyes presume to lurk
lurk for the tumultuous squeal.
Such a cry of vulnerability
vulnerability of lonely weakness
weakness....lures unjust evil
evil within a woeful bleakness.
Deep from the African bush
bush that conceals a enemy
enemy bearing a crucial task
task to invade the vicinity.
The smell of blood entices
entices the senses of hunters
hunters after a marred victim
victim freed by rams and bunters.
From one side to another
another enemy attacks hard
hard to escape such an attack
attack of a overwhelming bombard.
Action packed view from afar
afar from finely tuned sight
sight of a harsh...epic struggle
struggle of prey in a losing fight.
Time passes and the fight proceeds
proceeds to take upon a big turn
turn of some unexpected events
events the enemy has yet to learn
learn of the victim's inner strength
strength to overcome the worst
worst case scenario in the midst
midst of ****** wounds at burst.
As the distant view closes in
in what shows as such a mess
mess which contains a lioness
lioness in a battle of distress.
Her attackers are now revealed
revealed to be a clan of hyena's
hyena's that are hunger-crazed
crazed in Serengetti's hyped arena.
They nip and pick at her
her will only grows stronger
stronger than she's ever witnessed
witnessed her stamina bears longer
longer than her many foes
foes she begin to bring down
down one by one they fall
fall to her paws upon the ground.
She has awakened her power
power to ignore her injuries
injuries now are within the clan
clan of her relentless enemies.
More and more fall to her might
might the hyena's perish together
together they couldn't destroy her
her determination ignites as better
better than any has ever seen
seen the remaining hyena's run off
off, afraid, disappearing in the night.
Night soon turns to scorching day
day as she walks proud, but weak
weak among her lonesome to die
die within a bush she longs to seek
seek to lay in her comforting spot
spot to remedy her depleted life
life of a soul of entangled obstacles
obstacles of riddled....daily strife.
Now in peace she ascends up
up into her seraphic; feline humble
humble among her powerful kind
kind...she is...queen of the jungle.
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 8:07 PM UTC
Milk for meat
Hype for hope
Lies for love
Ashes for beauty
And yet we all said "amen"
Puppet master
Thy humble puppets, enthralled
...and we have anointed you;
To tell us ...
What we want to hear
What we want to read
What we want to watch
You have execute thy duties;
Tickling our ears to perfection,
With feathers, dipped in ******
Our souls; numbed
our hearts; tangled in lies.
The parade
The confetti
The Loyalist
An ovation;
To he who sits
lonely, on his throne;
Feeding our emotions,
In your own emptiness.
Sensationalism
Emotional
Temporarily
Seasonal
Hypnotized
Roller coaster ride...
We are dead, like the last generation.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 12:18 PM UTC