"laste" poems
When Michael Collins came, first from the courts of England,
which in low and lofty Londoun lately were helde,
while Thames there with treachery and treasoun did truly ring,
was Ireland ill split and beset with ignoble stryfe.
Yet there a land lately formed was, where still folk lyve on mydllerde.
Though it is not in this warlike time of Dev that we our tale do set,
after these tymes of troubling stryfe, contentioun salted still the land.
Fine Fail and Fine Gael, then foes many yeres remained
till noblest amongst them, in qualities none lacking,
did do battle in old Dublin and vanquish the dred enemy.
That mon who dreded nought, nightly then held his court in fair Dail Eirinn.
Enda was called that man, and everysince has his noble courte endured.
There, as Chrystmasse came, was assembled his cabinet fayre:
there Sir Wilmore the red, who waited on the grete lorde in readiness.
There with grete courtesey, the kings coins to keep, sat Sir Noonan the balde.
There Sir Reilly, learned in lore of leach and herb, who on erde had little left to lerne.
Eek Sir Varadkar the gaye who granted was, the grete kinges horses to groome.
Laste, the lovely layde Burton, who, the rede rose of Wilmore would long after carry.
Other knyghtes numerous were there, but of these now, nought will I
tell,
for fallen to feasting were this fayre companye al and fayne would I not,
in tedious trials of descriptioun, your patience for to trye.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 2:59 PM UTC
The day I met you, you held my hand while my parents screamed, stayed on the phone when I didn't want to face the deafening fall out. That night I bared my body to you, forgetting you were a stranger twice my age.. You told me we are perfectly compatible, You were the one who is OCD about numbers and time while I was failing math and struggling to keep up, you should have known 14 and 27 are not compatible numbers. I once called you 3 minutes after I said I would and you ignores me for a week until I agreed to show you my **** to make it up to you. Our relationship consisted of petty arguments, razor blade insults, commands, and punishments when I didn't do as you asked. For example do you remember the time when I told you I didn't feel beautiful and you made me starve myself for three days and workout for two months, what about the time I told you I didn't want to have children till I was 20 and you told me no one would want me then and you'd never wait for my ****** to be ready to have a family. What about the times I tried to leave and you threatened to end your life, do you remember that? No... You probably don't. Because even when I close my eyes I can still see the half dozen emptied beer bottles on the floor of your ***** apartment in the background of the pictures of you with a gun to our head as you begged me to take you back. You told a 14 year old girl you put your life in her hands knowing they shook and trembled every time she heard your voice slur as you told her not to eat because she was fat or that it was her fault you beat her. you became the skeleton in my closet and the monster under my bed the ghoul peeking through the curtains and knife weilder in the laste nights. I became the dying flower in a glass jar, but unlike beauty in the beast every time a petal wilted to the ground like a tear sliding down y cheek you only got stronger. I was not your beauty, you didn't realize you were a beast. I don't know if I'll ever forgive you.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 5:20 PM UTC
the feeling inside , i cannot describe not anger nor sadness , a certain kind of fustration. i am different in some strange way. feelings come and go yet this has stayed. All for a reason. never knowing why. for i am an embryo wating wanting coveting for the one day i will emerge into something beautiful. i wasnt always this way. the only way to save myself is they way ive avoided for all my life. please? hello? where are you? come here and save me. i cant resist you, its just not enough to say that i miss you. there is so much left to be said but i just might as well be better off dead. but ill stay alive and the reason why ill stare at the beautiful night sky it leave me breathless the same way you do , but ow could i covet somthing ive never had so badly. i am the laste spring blossom. while others bloom each in their beautiful ways shapes and forms i stay a bud. most wont pick it because its not a beautuiful flower but beauty is fleeting and one day while all the other flowers end there peak and whither away. i will thrive. thrive better than anyone elese ever way some day mabye one day baby. you will find out who i am.please? hello? where are you? some here and save me . there is so much more to be sead but i might as well be dead. i cant resist you , its not enough to say that i miss you. im not in denial this is my last trial to accept this bittersweet illusion from the moment we are born we slowly die. screaming at the thin door that seperates fact from fiction. its all just a dream. forever running in place it wont be fast enough. ive lost all controll but this path has taken a toll. ill figure this out all on my own. blurry eyes please look at the beautiful night sky. it wasnt always this way . someday mabye one day baby
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 5:07 PM UTC
Atte laste, lordynges feeble to avarice and swich cursednesse,
I would like to admit that I sacrificed the gang of the thirteen witches of emotions to baphomet,
I be clear your criticism gave birth to my theriomorphism,
Inshallah fail quench my hunger I be but a Tiger,
Laying in the same bed along side insomnia,
What form of religious madness is this?
Get on your knees, let me teach you theomania!
"Our father, our lord: who art in heaven leave us forsaken because our ***** are shaking to the devil's songs"
How hard is it to confess your own wrongs?
"repaint yourselves like chameleons"
God says "no matter where you hide, I will see you and I will **** you,
Because you have reached boundaries I can no longer tolerate!
Stop muttering prayers! But instead vociferate!
Alle and some, I am misunderstood for being evil
But this cardiacal imprinted in the walls of my heart a vernicle,
But I remain an oracle smoking tobacco in a tortoise shell,
Well, I honestly think the spiritual fathers should practice what they preach,
Because if I were to take off their vizards, you would surely all see some wizards,
But I won't reveal them because the cycle gets insidious,
Aghast!
Who know that I could be theriomorphous and treacherous?
So may I prosper behind the pulpit as I vormit the communion,
Meditating to goetic demons while preaching a morning sermon,
What form of monstrosity is this?
Excuse me priest but you mimic the devil and not Jesus Crist,
Heard rumour have spread around town
That "Alan's not an Angel" is a warlock
Well definitely!
I am certainly Con Fuoco!
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC