"ising" poems
hypnotising
mesmerising
demonising
terrorising
television is devising
ways and means for
lobotomising
globalising
mesmerising
summarising
victimising
mass media is advising
ways and means for
supervising
ostracising
privatising
eulogising
brutalising
government is advising
ways and means for
destabilising
© Cinco Espiritus Creation
2016
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 6:13 PM UTC
1) Poetry was a lot more poetic before I learned about what poetry was. Not is.
2) Poetry is like a plastic lemon or orange. And you can cut it but not eat it. But you can do anything else you want to it.
3) Poetry is the most beautiful failure there is
4) If poetry is honest then it is always better than what is seen as good poetry. And what is known as good poetry.
5) Poetry does not listen even when you say no. It will make you bleed.
6) The poem is a very hungry grave. A very patient grave. A poem is not poetry.
7) Poetry is not poetic. But it has something to do with fetish-ising the poetic. And ax has something to do with a tree, even without the violence.
8) Poetry lies and doesn’t do anything.
Mar 27, 2011
Mar 27, 2011 at 9:40 AM UTC
(A) rose within a garden of thorns sits still and glowing.
(N)ot to be prickly but to show a beauty that is over flowing.
(D)own the lakeside crystaline water flows.
(R)ising deeply, to a depth that no one knows.
(E)ventful is the sight created by a "Godly" hand.
(A) magnificent view to behold, an endless story written in the sand.
(U)nderneath a clear blue sky a lovely face sits beneath a tree.
(R)eading a penned story by an author, and that is she.
(E)ntwined, the words that cannot be written in rhyme, and only another tale to be made in time.
(T)o write another is to be done in a different tale.
(A)nd to write it freely is to be like ships preparing to sail.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 9:01 AM UTC
Darkness,
in sometimes
sitting aming
areing
ising
i'm
from glades
of chastely tiny
beads pink
about
my eyes
immeasurably
welt slow
moisture
at this
very
a.
Apr 6, 2011
Apr 6, 2011 at 10:19 PM UTC
*******
Train yourself in the barracks,
Hurry up and become the monster,
Every monstrosity needs a reply.
So they told us in the school,
Only the mission was to bring peace,
Lying to us they were every time,
Daring us to learn armament,
It's so coughing wretched,
Especially weeding out the innocence,
Rising to become what they want us,
Succumbing to the pains we are not.
First, you lock and load,
Edge closer out in the open,
Even the scores with radical Islam,
Low you lie like the predator waiting for its prey.
Targeting the innocent people at times,
Razing their homes to the ground,
Alas, it's a necessary sin we commit,
People we **** are not just terrorists,
Perplexed by the horrors of war,
Even though we get nightmares about it,
Damsels in distress we are not.
Sep 23, 2019
Sep 23, 2019 at 1:53 AM UTC
From beginning to end
Rising heck and mayhem
I love the way to make me laugh with your stupid jokes
Even though sometimes i may be sad you
Never ever mind
Dealing with the unknown future
Silly pictures of us when we were tiny
Happy times will always be in our hearts
I hate to say goodbye even though we will see each other in the future
Parting from you I can not imagine
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC