"knaves" poems
Shouting for longevity,
Slamming at the counterers…
- upon your dignified respite!
Would-be detractors without brevity,
Before the wine-dark Sea at night…
A pleading to philosophy of commonly renowned,
Beating sand and posturing, uncouth before a crown;
“Priam please!”
Sun and Moon,
two sons shall plead,
nay, -beg in tandem with the man;
“He serves the seas, trust him please, our father; this priest of Trojan-land!”
Laocoon
“Fear the Greeks, of mind I speak, approval by a van-i-ty; it surely is a death you seek!
An asp this horse, gift no more and tragedy in due remorse,
I beg of you my call to heed, wooden-burnt this crispy steed,
…alight in flame, glorified name; Poseidon shall endorse!”
Priests of Apollo
“Ridiculous! Worship we must, now bring it to the City thus!”
Laocoon
“The actions of accursed Kore,
Need I remind you all Paris caused this war?
For he mocked this god, the abyss it knows, with terror comes a deadly tide,
**** that fool and his fiddling pride!*
Burn this beast we must with haste for Greeks they have a certain taste,
Their acts meant always to confound, wily, since they were unbound.
What harm may do, to rest at shore? Consult the stars of yester-yore.
Assign no chore, one heaven’s night, plus a day, to sit upon our princely shore?”
Setting
(read/spoken at the fastest pace the reader can go)
A horrid hiss above the wave as two doth slither from out the cave…
The creatures from the darkest days, ancient spectacle for the knaves, bear witness to the punishment, commanded by a great trident, hearing screams of bannermen, for King and council a shocking twist, serpents ****** from out the mists, encircling priest and his kin, the howling they had done no sin, never be forgot-ten, as Typhon cried out merrily, serpents and the tragic sea; swallowed up all the three.
Priam
“Farewell dear Laocoon and two sons with thee!” *
Jun 17, 2016
Jun 17, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too:
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don’t deal in lies,
Or being hated don’t give way to hating,
And yet don’t look too good, nor talk too wise;
If you can dream—and not make dreams your master;
If you can think—and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with Triumph and Disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same:.
If you can bear to hear the truth you’ve spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to, broken,
And stoop and build ’em up with worn-out tools;
If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings,
And never breathe a word about your loss:
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: “Hold on!”
If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with Kings—nor lose the common touch,
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you,
If all men count with you, but none too much:
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds’ worth of distance run,
Yours is the Earth and everything that’s in it,
And—which is more—you’ll be a Man, my son!
7.7k
Merrily swinging on briar and ****
Near to the nest of his little dame,
Over the mountain-side or mead,
Robert of Lincoln is telling his name.
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Snug and safe is that nest of ours,
Hidden among the summer flowers.
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln is gayly dressed,
Wearing a bright, black wedding-coat;
White are his shoulders, and white his crest,
Hear him call in his merry note,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Look what a nice, new coat is mine;
Sure there was never a bird so fine.
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln's Quaker wife,
Pretty and quiet, with plain brown wings,
Passing at home a patient life,
Broods in the grass while her husband sings:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Brood, kind creature, you need not fear
Thieves and robbers while I am here.
Chee, chee, chee.
Modest and shy as a nun is she;
One weak chirp is her only note;
Braggart, and prince of braggarts is he,
Pouring boasts from his little throat,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Never was I afraid of man,
Catch me, cowardly knaves, if you can.
Chee, chee, chee.
Six white eggs on a bed of hay,
Flecked with purple, a pretty sight:
There as the mother sits all day,
Robert is singing with all his might,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Nice good wife, that never goes out,
Keeping house while I frolic about.
Chee, chee, chee.
Soon as the little ones chip the shell,
Six wide mouths are open for food;
Robert of Lincoln bestirs him well,
Gathering seeds for the hungry brood:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
This new life is likely to be
Hard for a gay young fellow like me.
Chee, chee, chee.
Robert of Lincoln at length is made
Sober with work, and silent with care,
Off is his holiday garment laid,
Half forgotten that merry air:
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
Nobody knows but my mate and I,
Where our nest and our nestlings lie,
Chee, chee, chee.
Summer wanes; the children are grown;
Fun and frolic no more he knows,
Robert of Lincoln's a humdrum drone;
Off he flies, and we sing as he goes,
Bob-o'-link, bob-o'-link,
Spink, spank, spink,
When you can pipe that merry old strain,
Robert of Lincoln, come back again.
Chee, chee, chee.
4k
My hero bares his nerves along my wrist
That rules from wrist to shoulder,
Unpacks the head that, like a sleepy ghost,
Leans on my mortal ruler,
The proud spine spurning turn and twist.
And these poor nerves so wired to the skull
Ache on the lovelorn paper
I hug to love with my unruly scrawl
That utters all love hunger
And tells the page the empty ill.
My hero bares my side and sees his heart
Tread; like a naked Venus,
The beach of flesh, and wind her bloodred plait;
Stripping my **** of promise,
He promises a secret heat.
He holds the wire from this box of nerves
Praising the mortal error
Of birth and death, the two sad knaves of thieves,
And the hunger's emperor;
He pulls that chain, the cistern moves.
2.9k
When raids of knaves
And smitten sheep
Aimed to pervade
Our hide and seek,
Beneath enclaves
We'd creep and keep
Their souls, we flayed,
To hide and TWEAK.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 1:09 PM UTC
Is there, for honest poverty,
That hings his head, an’ a’ that?
The coward slave, we pass him by,
We dare be poor for a’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Our toils obscure, an’ a’ that;
The rank is but the guinea’s stamp;
The man’s the gowd for a’ that,
What tho’ on hamely fare we dine,
Wear hoddin-gray, an’ a’ that;
Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine,
A man’s a man for a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Their tinsel show an’ a’ that;
The honest man, tho’ e’er sae poor,
Is king o’ men for a’ that.
Ye see yon birkie, ca’d a lord
Wha struts, an’ stares, an’ a’ that;
Tho’ hundreds worship at his word,
He’s but a coof for a’ that:
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
His riband, star, an’ a’ that,
The man o’ independent mind,
He looks and laughs at a’ that.
A prince can mak a belted knight,
A marquis, duke, an’ a’ that;
But an honest man’s aboon his might,
Guid faith he mauna fa’ that!
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
Their dignities, an’ a’ that,
The pith o’ sense, an’ pride o’ worth,
Are higher rank than a’ that.
Then let us pray that come it may,
As come it will for a’ that,
That sense and worth, o’er a’ the earth,
May bear the gree, an’ a’ that.
For a’ that, an’ a’ that,
It’s coming yet, for a’ that,
That man to man, the warld o’er,
Shall brothers be for a’ that.
2.6k
It’s about the American dream
To make more than you need
Through corporate greed
And pyramid schemes,
So I guess I’m not asleep
Since I eat rice and beans
In a crummy C.F.
Apartment,
Or what’s left of that
Ten by ten compartment
I can barely afford,
Like the ******
Degree that was supposed
To reward my hard effort
By leading me toward
A corner office
Or something
Like that
I should desire,
But **** it,
Let’s get higher,
I’m getting bored,
And my heart is heavy,
And I’ve been
Forsaken
By the country that
Bred me
Yet expects me
To slap on some flak
And attack
Fathers and sons and brothers
In Iraq
Over nothing
But ideological
Fluff
And political stuffing,
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s nothing
It’s just not worth
The time or frustration
To engage in
This nation’s
Procreation
Of condemnation
Of logical reason,
Though reasoning
Lies not in the
Eye of the reasoner
Or that of the reasoned,
It’s gotta be easier
Than achieving
Appeasement
Through please
And leasing
Thank yous
To random
Strangers,
But if
You believe
They, like you,
Are human
Then the danger
Is fleeting,
Cuz they’re feeling
The same feelings,
The sane feelings of
The chronically
Sure,
The always right,
Everything in its
Right place,
Yea I know Tommy,
I must endure
And try to say
I should try to save
The knaves,
But life’s so easy
As a slave,
You buy your
Goods
And pave the way
For impoverished hoods
And hoodwinked
Majorities
Who’ve already
Made
The sacrifices
Necessary
For the necessary
To get paid,
Hope you did some good
With that bogus bonus
Mr. Suit and tie
And perfect life
With the plastic wife
And bank account
You’ll never drain,
No matter how many
Times you make it rain
On upscale hookers,
It runs too deep
To keep all to your
Selfish selves,
But I guess it’s our
Faults we don’t wear
The leadership caps
Cuz we should’ve pulled
Ourselves up by our
******* boot straps
And made something of
Ourselves, right?
Those that deserve
To make the big bucks
Make it happen, right?
Time for the forgotten *****
to put up a fight.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 12:26 PM UTC
**Parades of knaves,
And smitten sheep;
Came to pervade
OUR hide and seek...**
*Depraved – I caved
To strut; to seek
Tirades of graves
With CREEP antiques.
CHARADES engraved
On my physic;
Enslaved, I waved
Through gift-wrapped chic.*
**For Beneath enclaves,
She seeks the meek
whose souls – she'd flay,
To Hide-and-TWEAK.**
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 6:04 PM UTC
With the magical banner held high
invoking the crocodile rain of oppression by elites
of greed by leeches and bacteria, amoebas and suckers
oh come all come one, join our revolution against dark powers
Oh.. who in rightful mind could refuse
off she went to hear hot propaganda of those high and mighty folks
who took food from baby's mouth and live likes kings in our homes
fed in Le Cordon Bleu a'la Rouge with lashings of aspic fabrications
Without hesitation she swallowed all up,
I'm in and I am an Activist show me the culprit, what can I do
all for one, one for all, that parasite deserves miseries and doom
Easy comrade sister, get to know him and help us do his head in
It's a sport for us that elitist blood sucker
just get under his skin for us, let's play his mind and infest his head
report back to us, inner knowledge is power and we're fighting a war
comrade sister, our hot Activist marched forth on with vim and vigor
comrade sister wholly followed her brief
though soon saw things weren't as the revolutionaries presented
conflicted and confused she felt pity for a rare icon held in gallows
but the majority carries the vote and all is fair in love and red war
At her cost and with a wretched heart she gave her all
did as she was told and played her part as a true comrade in line
Solidarity she give to the fight, was mean and nasty as demanded
It's them or us they say and see comrades I give my services to you
all
No medals for Comrade sister, no epaulette yet earned
rather at her cost her privacy invaded and smears throws at her
tales of dark deeds and loose morals hung on her in dark corners
yet that poor heroine fought and gave so much blood for the cause
where is the honour amongst thieves and knaves
she did all that was required of her
told the lies she was made to tell and played the game as taught
stood at the barricades and ****** her guilt and conscience
yet they still don't trust her for paranoia rules them all
Mar 4, 2019
Mar 4, 2019 at 3:31 PM UTC
*"For all have sinned
and fall short of
the glory of God..."
Romans 3:23*
Jane woke up
In a strange bed
Liquor on her breath
She lit up a cigarette
She knew that
it was death.
She watched him
Put his pants on
Before he went to work
She thought
He was a loser
She thought
He was a ****
She walked out his doorway
Back out on the street
She now had $60
So she went out to eat
She observed the customers
The waitress and the cook
How could
She keep on living
With the guilt
She felt - the looks?
They all knew her business
Her clothing said it all
So they sat in judgment
Nailed her to the wall.
She left with shame
Surrounding her
There was no disguise
She left with face
A flaming red
Tears burning
In her eyes
She walked by an outreach
Walked in with
Other knaves
She felt she might
Find some help
The sign said, "JESUS SAVES".
Sue woke beside her hubby
In a nice suburban home
She went and made
Him breakfast
He came down
Well groomed.
He went to
Good employment
He had a sterling past
She put on her makeup
And went to Yoga class
Then the doctor's office
Her tests negative again
She filled out the
Paperwork
And thoughtlessly
Took their pen
Then she drove
To Wal-Mart
In a hurry
She was late
For her next appointment
For the lunch
Which her friends ate
She went in to
Meet them
That's when
She saw Jane
She looked with derision.
That ***** ***** again.
She consumed her salad
"The girls" laughter
Met Jane's ears
That's what caused
Her face to blush
That's what
Caused her tears.
Sue drove home.
She cut cars off,
Not thinking it depraved.
Jane walked in the outreach
With the legend
"JESUS SAVES".
Two very different women
Died & went to God
It was then
Something happened...
Definitely odd!
Jane went before
The Father
He looked at her list.
All the things
Which she had done
All the marks she'd missed
But He then
Acquitted her!
He hugged her with love!
For to HIM
Her page was *blank
For He saw JESUS' BLOOD!*
Sue then stood
Before Him
He looked at
Her short note.
All things done
UNKNOWINGLY
Were what
The angels wrote.
How she'd transgressed
Her husband
By taking him
For granted
How she'd taken
The doctor's pen
And other things
She wanted
How she and her friends
Had laughed at
A girl in pain...
That the woman's guilty
That much was
Quite plain...
So Jane was then succored
Sue went on bereft
Jane stood on the right hand
Sue stood to the left.
For Jane was FORGIVEN
Her joy had no end...
Sue eternal torment
Because she was
CONDEMNED.
What's your stance,
My people?
Will you stand or FALL?
For God is always watching
And He judges
US ALL.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 10/2/2017
Oct 2, 2017
Oct 2, 2017 at 10:28 AM UTC
immersion in the Jordan
risen from their graves
there's a place of graciousness
the pastel water saves
yes, there's a place of peaceful joy
for the heart that raves
wisdom beckons... righteousness!
for fools and for knaves
we are awake yet dreaming
wandering into the waves.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/28/2015
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 1:12 PM UTC
The Poetry Barn wasn’t really a barn
It was merely an old farm house,
It sat on the acres of Eddington’s Farm,
Surrounded by sheep and by cows.
But Poets came over from Stuttersby Dell,
Drove over from Scatabout Wood,
To write in the air of the Poetry Barn
About things, when they ought and they should.
They came from Great Orton, they came from Rams Well,
They came from Glenn Wheatley and Grey,
The best and the worst of the poets you’d find
At the Poetry Barn, every day,
The rooms had been empty for many a year
So they all sat on bundles of straw,
And when they ran out they would send up a shout,
So some would go out and get more.
The mornings would see all the Elegies worked,
The Epics, the Odes and Quatrains,
The Poetry Barn would then grumble and groan
As the Dirges would enter the drains.
By noon the fair Sonnets came into their own
With just the odd wanton Lament,
When poets would seek out the culprit to find
One grinding his verse in a tent.
By evening they’d work on the Pastoral,
The Sestet, the Roundel as well,
And those at a loss after losing the toss
Would be stuck with the old Villanelle,
They’d all settle down when the Moon came up round,
And the stars twinkled boldly in rhyme,
When one asked the other, ‘pray, what rhymes with brother,’
And he’d say, ‘your Mom, all the time.’
The poems would stick to the inside walls,
Would tear at each other like knaves,
They’d fill up the aisles and lie flat on the tiles
And would damage the old architraves.
At night you could hear all the horses hooves
As they carried the good news to Aix,
And in came the wedding guest, him with the albatross
Counting his many mistakes.
I saw that they’d burned down the Poetry Barn
With one sad, incendiary rhyme,
A poet called Glover who wrote to his lover
‘My candle, you light all the time.’
The straw caught alight in his lover’s delight
And they fled from that bastion of verse,
I just penned this missal for someone to whistle,
The one that he’d written was worse.
David Lewis Paget
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
There is a weird
And not so wonderful fetish
Particularly British
Common
Amongst commoners
In the United Kingdom
Although the aristocracy
And royalty
Are seen by all
With eyes to see
To have behaved
Abominally
Tortured and twisted
Enslaved, enchained
***** re-shaped
With bloodstained hands
The entire planet
Sending ordinary
More innocent
English men
To do their ***** work
Their dastardly
Disastrous deeds
As slaves of knaves
Through common British eyes
These horrible people
Are placed high upon
Holy pedestals
Romanticized
Idealized, Idolized
Canonized
Perhaps there's some
Vicarious thrill
Exercising
Enforcing
Power and evil will?
But the hand no pleasure gets
When, through rubbing, wets itself!
Sean Hunt
Windermere January 1st 2016
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 3:19 PM UTC
*the sky on my back
is heavy now, and the thin light
a shadow.
i am perched in my godforsaken.
but my wings dare the holy
and my mind
tumbles up
like a last supper of glass worms
and extra ******
strychnine.
in the blink of an I
there's a wink
with a slovenly iris...
and a dull pearl
chink-blissed
in the shattered tooth
of my gnawing
gob.
a low frequency
in the high place
of my moon ***** cul de sac...
and an exact replica
of my dispossessed
reflection... a memory
that forgets best
as it mulls over
and dwells more ******
than the asking price
of my naive
assurety.
it is perfect. and glum.
but the gem is the thing
on the tip my tongue -
seeking and slithering
betwixt.
it's a fixed
star.
or
some
awful charm
looming in the dismal
and lurid
in the
Carnival.
you
are the ghost
that feeds my starvation
and the means
to an end.
a complete drink of sour kindness.
lopping off heads
like a queen of knaves and barking mad
mittens.
it's very cold
where we come from...
but we go
back.
and to
return
is to
speak
a
lost word
where we
found
it...
leaping reason like a squirrel
to a bitter branch
where the apples
are stones
and the leaves
are not amazing
today*.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
Boolos says eliminate the random
I say lend me your gun
If-and-only-if statements are faulty
And this just became less fun
I don’t know the difference
Between ja and da
My head is on the line
Let’s pause for vichyssoise
Knights and knaves must understand
The question that you ask
And answer “themfully”, the question at hand
And keep you on your task
And you must be able to comprehend
What it is that you’re asking
To make their answers worth a ****
And keep you from the offing
The logician’s straight-jacket
The turn of the *****
And what about time, does that play-in too?
(The time to process what to do?)
What would D say if I asked
How G would answer me
Whether F is happy "if-and-only-if"
It’s obeyed and it’s free
Well it’s all a bit of *******
It’s wordplay and it’s noise
These tortured, bent, crafty, minds
Have dark, insidious toys
Jan 10, 2015
Jan 10, 2015 at 7:26 AM UTC
hey God!
how ya doin' up there?
perhaps You are tired
and might use a chair?
to sit, relax and maybe think it over
you know, time flies and You are getting older...
You're Time itself
You are the Music and You are the Lyrics
I know: You are my inner self
I care not for stoics or for cynics
there are no sinners as there are no saints
we all but little misbehaving children
the Love bestowed on us from high above
is mirky Evil's deadly foe - the Lantern
I fear not what future holds
for all I know there is no future
if we go on like this - forlorn -
our selfish thoughts are Devil's fav'rite nurture
they said You don't exist
they said You're dead and buried
they kicked and crucified Your Son
their arrogance was their only merit
but You forgave 'em all -
knaves, foolish in their pride...
I thank You for the caring guidance
of those who do believe and those who don't
and if You're gone forever... well, good riddance
the image of my sword will haughty haters haunt
23.5.2012
Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 8:16 AM UTC
"Death's gaze ever present on it's tentacles
A weight of power unformidable
Crashing down upon its victims"
Beware the Kraken! A monster of seas
The one sung about in many shanties
Marauding, ripping, and crushing its victims
This a myth by which the crew schisms
But the unsteady seas beneath the hull
Bubbling and boiling, the ocean calls
Unleashing from the bowels of the deep
A beast of lost worlds, oceans it reaps
The Kraken, awaken, outstretches it limbs
The skies are blackened, the heavens dim
With tyrannical force he unfurls his power
The mast snaps, wood shards and splinters shower
Fearful men aboard are pulled to a watery grave
Oceanic law, for this crew of knaves
The last aboard the teetering deck
A captain standing tall within the wreck
Howling at the beast below
Again tentacles high above the sea grow
Dragging the wreckage into the water
Appeasing the beast, the great destroyer
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC
A midnight ship with silver sails
And hoisted flags with scarlet tails
Is whisked by winds of golden gales
Descending from the skies above.
And though the decks are wet and soaken,
Still the hull is swift and oaken
So the course remains unbroken,
Trailing wakes of turtledoves.
With storm departed, then no sooner
Comes, unseen, a pirate schooner
Neath the nighttime, light and lunar,
Pouncing with a push and shove.
Though hope seems lost, a cyclone saves
Dispersing foes and other knaves
With frothy foamy ****** waves
Which strike like leaden leather gloves.
Secured, the ship has safely landed
- Left behind, the pirates stranded -
Passers-by are smiling candid,
Knowing not the worth thereof.
For hidden in the wooden hold
Is treasure bursting unforetold
- Far more than diamonds, thyme and gold -
It brings unbound a brother’s Love.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
1.
There once was a couple of cats
Who engaged in continuous spats.
The result was a tie
When each scratched out an eye –
An old-Biblical *** for a tat!
The cats awoke bleeding and weak
And half-seeing the havoc they'd wreaked
They discarded their clothes,
Their backsides to expose –
A new-Biblical turning of cheek!
2.
There once was a man, oh so brave,
Who would sleep in a hole, called a grave ...
Well, he being the host
To so many a ghost,
He arranged a big bash, called a rave
3.
In days of Neanderthal knaves
When the men ruled like kings in their caves
And not being too keen
About keeping them clean ...
Often took on some wives, called them slaves
4.
There once was a man with a stave
Overseeing a holy enclave ...
Well, maintaining a grin
While absolving the sin,
He assessed wicked tales and forgave
5.
There once was a monk with a wave
Who desired a head with a shave ...
Well, the barber was such
That she cut back too much
Thereby leaving his globus concave
6.
There once was a man in the nave,
Although pious he could not behave ...
But they paid him no mind,
’Cause his name was maligned,
Being simply a sinner to save
7.
There once was a man quite depraved
A voluptuous life was thus craved ...
Well, continuous sin
Ended doing him in –
On his tombstone they carved ‘Misbehaved’
8.
Antoine is a Vampire Ghoul,
Quite barbaric, bloodthirsty and cruel,
With a fang in your throat
He’ll **** slowly and gloat
With a smile as you whimper and mewl.
9.
There once was a raven haired Shrink
Who had orange Juice Tequilas to drink.
Well her scarlet souled Beau
****** her tinted red Toe
And she paled when he tickled her Pink.
10.
There once was a travelling sage
Who yet lived to a very old age.
Well, becoming quite senile,
With problems (yes, ******
He packed his wee trunk in a rage.
11.
There once was a Nun and a Druid
Exchanging some ****** fluid,
When along strode the Father
Who heard all the bother,
Lost stickum while coming unglu..ed.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
Towering over the rocky shore,
mentoring the intractable,discordant waves.
Rigid and stubborn,over which the eagles soar
"They" come here for absolution,the murderers,the soothsayers,the knaves.
Tweleve kilometers away from the tower,she watched,
living in sweet sardonic solace,in an ancestral cottage.
how "they" climbed the crumbling earth,body and soul parched,
desperate to be purged,freed from guilt-driven *******
Ruminating over the storm swept silence,
she loathed man's dependence on belief.
Comatised, mentally enervated in its absence,
The belief commands discipline, our obedience.
Scrambling over the jagged rocks,
she climbed to the base of the dominating column,
A vulture sitting high above,looks down to mock.
the blinding circulating light,an eerie feeling she could not fathom.
Ascending the two hundred and forty eight iron spiral stairs,
as surreal force encompassed her, she instantly felt possessed, her mind awakened by last night's nightmare.
As she stood high above,adjacent to the vultures,
She acknowledged her mind grow vacous,empty , free.
There was something calming or demanding about this structure,
exterminating her inner thoughts and memories,reaching an ******** apogee.
Oct 31, 2011
Oct 31, 2011 at 12:52 PM UTC
Jokers and knaves are wild cards
As ever they were
What fateful houses these make
Breath-held balancing
Precarious shelters
Gamblers and wanderers
With tumbleweed roots
Clinging air instead of earth
The stuff of fools and stars
And someone's days and years
Are made only of this
This thrilling despair
Jokers and knaves and kings and queens
And some of subtler meaning
Mean nothing but paper
Numbers and trembles
Dry-mouthed mumbles
Prayers to a ruthless god
With no reason to pity fools
And a dark love of sacrifice
Yet still desperate belief
Huddled behind swollen eyes
Contradicts every probable outcome
And falls and spins
By Phil Roberts
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 11:49 AM UTC
With frosty breath and empty-shell shoes,
I await the steady driver who returns for me,
to hurdle our car down cliff into sea
with cracked headlights and bowtie come undone,
what more could Night or Water honestly have won?
Moon painted gleam masterfully upon my eye
from falling trees and ivy-shined leaves,
whispered in their ears from knoll-bound knaves,
"The sun gone over, never to return for you."
They watch for pleasure, sent-to-ground from dew.
I ramble on and on along rocky coast line
over iron guard rails with trusty companion,
head-tilt weighed a stone above water,
gone plunging in toward black surface below,
face-first and tongue-tied with heart so hollow.
Up, up, awake. All but a dream.
Soaked tie above bedframe,
slept in mustard blood sheets.
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 12:06 PM UTC
When we as loveless humans failed,
With hate in every word exhaled
We turned and let our gods all crash,
we turned our children into ash.
.
And from out the ashes crawled
A thousand demons, wide and tall
Roiling mud and blood and stench
Tore out from groaning wound-like trench
.
And then down from the sun there flew
(not too many nor too few)
A band of angels, a golden choir
Singing songs of purging fire
.
And at the end of battle-day
In the fields of war there lay
No liars, beggars, thiefs or knaves
But a thousand crying naked babes
Jun 1, 2024
Jun 1, 2024 at 12:34 AM UTC
Of splendid thrones of gold
or treasures manifold
Of jewelled caskets
or lavish banquets
Of Emirs and rajahs
Of Sultan and Shahs
Of kings and queens
Of rulers and emperors
Of sparkling crowns
or flowing gowns
Of their subservient stewards and obedient pages
Of their stalwart squires and servile knaves
Of poor humble, docile minions
who tended to regal pavilions
And obeisantly carried royal palanquins
Oh and some were real life harlequins
Of castles and palaces
of abounding gold and silver
in ostentatious regal splendour
The sidelined fanning maids in waiting
Yet to me only one thing worth noticing
The minstrels who came to sing
from afar for the queen and king
For I'd rather be a poetess for kings
so to my tunes swayed a kingdom
than I be the king of mere subjects
and be filled with regal boredom!
So I could join ranks of
troubadours
and sing for the king
some folklores.
Dec 7, 2017
Dec 7, 2017 at 3:37 AM UTC
Stinking Thieves and Degenerates thus proudly declared
We will drive you paranoid, give you ******* brain cancer
We will put hot things in your head, head lice they blared
We will plant dissenting seeds in your mind by our passers
Chatter and natter with toxic germination brain furrowed
With poisons, fears and doubts we'll polluted your mind
We are the majority and we'll recruit followers in numbers
Build a pyramid of lies and hassles to hound and down grind
One tell ten and onwards, chinese whispers makes you to wonder
Peck like vultures at your life with harassments that's unkind
In our putrid pond, caves and gutters a Grass is what you are
Goody shiny two shoes who stays aloof thinks he's better than us
Whistle clean, no crime or stains, how pompous, how you dare
Evil and destruction is our wont, purity is anathema go you suss
We'll sling mud, blacken you, weaken you and lay you bare
Go call your Jesus to save you, see if he dares tussle with the pack
The ******* cemetery is full of Saints who we've offered free rides
Showed them the Hell we make for good people before we wack
We'll get in your head and mind and trounce your soul with hide
We are knaves, criminals and reprobates and we have the knack
Yes, we burgled and stole from you, that's our trade, what we do
We are criminals not ******* Mother Teresa saving the poor
You work hard to acquire, we work hard to acquire, isn't it so
Then you chose to grass us up, ruin our trade and shut our doors
see what happens to upright and legit, jobless, lonely and broken too.
Hahaha....hahaha.....hahaha.....next!
Brother watch out, it could be you..............
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC