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Alex Apples Feb 2010
Betrayal of a nation
By its own generations
Pageantry that slackens
Sliding into morbidity
Obesity of the spirit
Swells of needless waste
In the name of wealth
Sacriledge
Oozing farce
Finger puppets
Only to be played
Imagined wars, sciences
A lavishness blithely unaware
Of its inner decay
Decadence
Sweet taste of poison
Thus falls Babylon
By her own hand
Helen Dec 2013
lɑːˈ(d)ʒɛs/ noun

magnanimity,*
generosity,
liberality,
munificence,
bountifulness,
beneficence,
altruism,
charity,
kindness,
lavishness,
unselfishness


pretium est princeps unde redderent, quia munera(1)

τραγική, η τιμή
Σας έκανε να πληρώσετε
για αυτό
tragikí̱ , i̱ timí̱
Sas ékane na pli̱ró̱sete
gia af̱tó(2)

nu ligga död
botten av gropen(3)

nocht, ach le haghaidh an salachar
Chaith mé a chuirtear air(4)

Take your largesse and squeeze it where the sun never sees(5)

We all laid down
just as well
The master cut
the puppet strings
and we all
                        just
                                ­        *fell....
(1) Latin ~ the price is high, to pay for a gift
(2) Greek ~ grievous price We did pay this
(3) Swedish ~ now lying dead bottom of the pit
(4) Irsh ~ naked, but for the dirt I spent upon it
(5) No translation required
Yara Mrad Dec 2013
This occasion's red but i'm feeling blue
Nothing to gain, nothing to lose
They tell us to welcome this festive season with an open heart
But my heart is already torn in two
From the days that made me fall apart
The friends that left without saying goodbye
The sanity i had but was snatched by surprise
The goals i failed to accomplish
The people i let down because i was acting foolish
The days that seem to have washed away my happiness..
With every smile comes a stroke of emptiness
Sitting here in this silent room
With nothing but a soul deprived of its bloom
The shady walls boil with anger
Complaining about the materialism that stroke like thunder..
People on the streets fake their laughs
We all sure did forget the meaning behind this celebration
Since we spend money on tree decorations and useless crafts
Meaningless, fading gifts that won't last
Longer than the starved homeless that only pray for a proper meal
Thus, a tableful of dishes soaked in lavishness
Is being devoured by our bodies invaded by selfishness
While fancy music entertain our deaf ears
So we fail to be filled with the one thing that should be our specialty
And that is *humanity
Michael Ryan Feb 2015
I remember Icy cold hands softly grasping my wrist(s).
As they lead me down to the water.
It's a brisk sunny day clear of clouds and void of life other than us two.
Upon reaching the brim of this secluded lake I dive right in.
Solemnly sinking lower and lower until something whispers for me to open my eyes.

I remember thinking to myself how much longer can I hold my breath.
As I peer at this underwater world around me, quite a masterful landscape.
This could be a mini coral reef I thought as many creatures scuttled across the mossy corpse of what I assumed used to be a tree.

I remember the feeling of those same frozen hands.
Gently and tightly wrapping themselves around my chest.
I feel stuck and held in place as my eyes peer ever deeply.
Into the lush and overgrown thick of seaweed.
That looks as if it is waving for me to come closer.

I remember a minor sharp pain as if ice was arching its way inside my spine.
Slowly sending a tingling sensation into the back of my mind.
This world really is something as I ponder about an over sized rock. That was more than likely large enough to be called a boulder.
Also how did it ever came to exist right here in the middle of the water.  
Silly I know, but I also wondered if the fish same as people .
Would praise this rock to be something more than a pebble in a lake.

I remember a peaking feeling where everything began to rush to my head .
As the chilly edge slipped into my limbs as those hands caressed me.
Amongst this lavishness was the **** realization .
That the only thing that stood out in the realm was my existence.
It was my opaque form that caused quite a stir in this mundane environment .
If not for my involvement .
Today would have been the same as any other for these creatures.

I remember being enveloped into the pleasantness and peacefulness that the cold brought.
When I could finally no longer feel the hands pressed against my skin.
In this brief moment all I could do is take in what my gaze could hold. This moment could no longer last as my vision became hazy.
So I closed my eyes to accept what eventually had to come.
Just another poem for my creative writing: Poetry class. It's the ever present feeling of having something dragging you to do something you never really wanted do in the first place.  Knowing and feeling like there is more to life are two completely different things.
midnight prague Dec 2010
I feel the indifference like a numbing pain
I want you to feel how I let it put my soul to death
and liquidate my thoughts
they drip down like the paint of a artist
who has lost interest in his work

and I feel so uncared for by you
simple letting me fall with no proper land
I weep down like a loners lost distress
thrown out into carelessness
falling with no purpose

or maybe there is a purpose
is the reason too painful for me to know
.
,
I wish not to understand how you feel
I wish not to accept the pain that awaits me
within the petite seconds I shared with you
standing on a table of Marie Antoinette
gardens so beautiful that she built with the
selfishness of her femininity
with the lavishness given to her by birth
that is not me
I deserve nothing of this

unlike this fallen Queen
I believe
this pain also does not belong to me
I have felt with my heart
that I cant carry this burden

lift me from my grave
in which I have buried myself
under thoughts of your lost smile
my bird of tomb
my nails edge the sides of you
a skin made of white
the lines of red have faded
as I have from you

and I no longer see a residence
within your space.
Brandon Jun 2012
The ending to your voice haunts me
Late at night when I'm tearing into my flesh
with words I've cut from train wrecks and false hopes
I can hear the echo of your presence creep onto me
with my numb heart beating pacedly
and raptures of flesh rupturing,
my spine tingles in sensations I've longed for years to grasp within me,
these fleeting moments fleeing my wanting arms
turning me inside out, spilling this ink on splintered handrails
exposing my ribs for you like a delicacy you have yet to enjoy but readily dig into
my cavities craving, devouring languidly from your wistful whispers
the faintest sketch of your ghost whistling past my ear
like the way I've known how you could laugh all along
these splinters scriven into the palms of my hands
as Dawn rises with practiced perfection on the outside world
the coldness of breath overtakes me filling my lungs with icy lavishness
The ending to your voice haunts me from worlds I've never known
and from worlds I've longed to be a part of.
Emm Jun 2017
Romance is a Luxury
Reserved for those who were born with enough to live in
Those who laze in lavishness
The educations were wrong
It is not an equal platform where everyone can jump in and stay in
For those without so much fortune, what is its purpose anyway
Romance is a luxury for those with the idle minds
When the merchants are out to play, and people come to seek their goods
Romance is futile, romance is an illusion for those with marriage contracts
For a better stage, for a better filled garage…
Blue Orchid Oct 2018
You were spontaneous,
Impulsive
Charged with a million ways to fuel my lust for you
Or perhaps that was what my young mind thought
For I have learned to be much more spontaneous now and at the same time, less graceful
More myself
I’m not quite sure how I should feel about that.
You were my first lover not because I didn’t have boyfriends prior to you
On the contrary
I was wilder
More impetuous
For I was the one who noticed you on the crowded dance floor
Where you clutched the sweating beer by the waist
I knew you were an observer from the way you studied the swaying crowed
While managing to seem quite immersed even though the distance you comprised was palpable
I thought you’d be shy when I approached you
Shy men where a fantasy of mine
Yet you spoke like you owned the world
Like it should be lucky to worship at your feet
And I realize you were a force all on your own and I wanted, so desperately, to be a part of your wave
A feeling I never quite felt before.
So you see,
This was why you were my first lover
For the fire you created in me
On the roof of a strange building we accidently stumbled upon
Where the night air stole our breaths away
Yet our touches felt like a hot summer day,
Burning away my desire for the men I had always thought were my choices
And searing me in your peculiar head,
So when we parted that first day, at the peak of dawn
With my number scribbled on your left arm from the spontaneity of our choices,
You had left a mark on my soul,
One I had never thought could be composed by a random stranger
And it wasn’t from your ragged but handsome looks or the hair my fingers wanted to spend the night entangled in,
But rather from the dark way your eyes glinted when they whooshed past my bare neck
Or the various ear-rings that decorated one ear
When your fingers made a light brush against the strained front of my dress and my hardened *******,
But most of all, it was the hunger I saw in your gaze
And I realized, in that very moment, all I wanted to do was spoil myself with the lavishness that was you.
Lika Mizukoshi Jan 2017
Just in case no one has told you
that you have eyes that could spark a wildfire
a laugh that could light up the sky
a smile that could stop the chaos for a while
then here it is

Just in case no one has told you
That your scars are not what defines you
that the Creator has made you beautiful
that it is not your fault they can't see it
then here it is

Just in case you didn't know
that when He birthed you into this world, He was not confined by the chemistry we know,
that from ashes, He created gold, and diamond, and titanium, and has intertwined it in your bloodstream to make you beautiful, and strong, and flexible,
then here it is

Just in case I never get to tell you these before my breath leaves my body and chooses not to return,
You are more than the misogyny and bigotry they try to contain you in,
Worth more than the lavishness they want you to think would define your value
You are beyond worth dying for,
you are worth living for
you are worthy of staying here, regardless of how many times they try to tell you to leave
you are worthy of good things in life
you are worthy of withstanding the bad places your mind puts you in
you are stronger than you think

So, Just in case no one has ever told you
how much to love yourself
just know that when I created this poem, I was thinking of you.
The girl in the corner
The wallflower
The unknown
The depressed
The beaten
The played
The strong
The brave
The fallen
The beautiful
The intelligent
The woman
in a timely fashion rains did turn up*
giving landholders good reason to smile
for several months there'd been a dry cup
no moisture had quenched the soil's profile
the outlook is much better going ahead
spring's prospects improved by the dampness
always they're seeking a wetting's nice spread
their crop growth being blessed in lavishness
dams and creeks are all now full to brimming
around all farms the season is brighter
at the coming of this pleasing trimming
where those on acreage shall feel lighter
it's made district folk cheer with hearty glee
*on the many raindrops drenching the land's lee
Everything was consummation to define the end in everything that was insinuated in the idyllic border that nothing presumes and deduces a good decision, but the emptying was already unobjectionable Vernarth, after living a thousand lives, began to anxiously call those who he believed that everyone was going to depart with Him. The elements had already been treated to reverse them in future spiritual lives with Eucharistic prayers that smelled specific aromas that would preserve the indiscreet air when seeing caravans passing by that came from concurrent to the final ceremonial on the heights of Profitis Ilias, including flocks of Ravens that they carried in the lips of birds that brought the essences and tiaras to decorate the Opistódomos. Alexander the Great and Ezpatkul were already coming with the rooks from the suburbs that would swarm through the ****** heights of the pronaos where the Vas Auric levitated, turning towards the Cinnabar that was already categorically in the Naos. The lavishness of the Mashiach specified the elements that were divided from the abstinences of the liturgy in honor of Him where all the winds from east to the west became the majority in the disciplinary section, from where its interior was grafted to the Vas Auric as a complement to the body. of Vernarth that began to atomize in the Apokáliptika assembly towards the paths of the eschatological epilogue, without detractors and tribulations to attend to the sighs of the Universe that would contract with magnificence when seeing that the nadir of the Duoverse was appearing, that is, the inferiority of the Universe that would bow down to the complex and unintelligible Duoverse, but with swift paths towards the sacred textuality where the work is already a reality. The souls in the pomegranate tree on its pedestal were already occupied by the Hexagonal Primogeniture, seeing that the Mashiach had already become the living word of Nazareth whose passion became co-binder in the ascending radiosities that came and went along the shoulder of the Hydor in the Nimbus Iridescent carrying rays of ultra warmth. Carrying imperious prophecies that departed from the component that everything is part of the precious stone that is submerged in the deposit, where the resurrected Mashiach takes Vernarth's hand and places the Golden Xiphos sword on his right hand, forming the empire from east to west. Thus it is demonstrated that Vernarth during the entire journey of this Mega Parapsychology was never dead nor ever lived, he only waited for the hypostasis of the Lord that led him snowy on promontories that brought him closer to the monumental ex-voto held in those present where everything was of monumental muteness, bringing resurrected wails of the Apostles to the scene as they were martyred by their pernicious pursuers.

The Investiture ceremony already gave rise to a formulation that would satisfy great celestial desires with gestures of toast or universal conformist gestures, to unite all the people of different origins who began to meet with Vernarth with a total outcome of humility that embodied the figure of a proselyte who constituted the voice of Ruth crushing the leftover grasses in Naomi's doubts. The trapezoids mocked every cross-eyed look twisting the height of the summer that swirled with the objects of generosity that arrived and fell on the lawn as a remarkable epiphany in the form of delicacies and ambrosial that dreamed of being in the compendium of the height of Olympus and Horcondising on the same level of the liberation of beings where the Gentiles converted to the creed, which fed on the words of Ruth and her grasses as advocated banners that adored all who were present at the Investiture of Vernarth's Himation.

Behold, the sacrosanct pilgrimages were from the geocentric Rosemary who had held the Messiah before trying to throw him off the cliff after intervening in the Synagogue in Nazareth, reversing the plot, perhaps assuming a figure of the indulgent portent that clung to the barrier of the portals of the corn, and everything in the center was dressed as the focus of the Himation towards a great rodón or molding of Rosemary.

Who else may be missing from the presses of or that could not be taken to the mill. Behold, from the spaces where light did not reach, the sacred ones of exclusive faith were displayed with the flashes of these Bern olives, so that everyone could enter the central place where everything was crowded with double luminaries that lit up as obfuscation until the end of each descending inspiration. . Vernarth melted and carried the shady slip of the cross that entered over the heads of the attendees, and the late prayer that did not hit the avatars of each bis of each pagan and converts that slipped through the lips in the seventh invocation, as if Flavius Josephus were referring to the purple gold that volatilized in the midst of all those who slept, and at the same time the dim jambs of the temple dilated to act as a relationship to the meeting of the Vas Auric and the Cinnabar that joined the shimmering aldehyde contracting in the oratory that fell when the Beit Hamikdash collapsed, to later become oratic frames that were largely diluted when adopted in the dynasty of a throne that would have repercussions similar to those of Homer in the Iliad, where an admirer like it is Vernarth of Achilles as he worships his parents Hair and the goddess Tethys more in the affront of an empyrean higher than Olympus. Achilles walked ***** but limped only supported by the materialized rods of the Aldehyde with the sole purpose of reincarnating him in Vernarth's submitology, where he will show him noble fields and herds of black-white steeds before regenerating him in the genealogy of the bishop that is situated and surrounded of peons, but not in his long palatial life, rather in the equestrian fields where his life was reborn in death and took him to old age that receded as he walked on the heads of the deceased. The notorious individuality was made by taking hold of Vernarth's arm for the short walk like a Soter that finally rearmed his gallantry in front of Briseis; she granted it to Achilles, and that she was now Vernarth's female consort.

Saint John says: “we all give parts of our bites to others, what an honor makes us more special when armies of Greeks descended on this investiture where incense reigns, longing for the aroma of Briseis in each piece of air that is soaked in Vernarth's Himation. This is how all courage becomes perennial in the gifts where the Achaeans also dare to arrive at this ceremony, and of all that exordium that contradicts fighting beyond all death, especially if the Mashiach extends the opening of the point and its space! -time in a single potion of the heart of the servants!
Everything was in the hands of the eyes that perceived the birthed gaze of the Fibonacci effect, where the steep columns seemed to open up to the gazes of those who were stuck in the stands before the descent of the Naos. What greater strength than being brave and eager to shield all the cowards who do not forgive the demigods who die first before the boarding, and without pain before the merits of those who with their beginner gaze reside with their eyes closed before being absorbed by the duality of life that recurs farther from the threshold of the flame that devours the indecisive departure. Feats and disdain to close the senses when the Mashiach came down with his archangels and Cherubim defying without any fear that illuminates Homeric doubts so extensive, that they could perfectly be confused with all palpable reality.
Ravens and Belphus
Hasan Maruf Jul 2017
Civilized people are cantankerously
Fighting, as if they are drawn
Into a macabre of horror

The Damascus or Aleppo is now dousing
The wild fire flung by the mad king
Gutted them from hospital bed to dinning drink
Moscow mutters its usual promises
Of the remedies to halt the sting

It is little wonder that the east is blank
When dragon flew from the west
Gurgling the blaze from its bulletproof vest
Some in the east have not even seen wild fire
In their harem, new anguishes wrung
For blousing the orifice of their blood bank

Abbottabad, which once fatigued the debris
Has been dishonored with the myth of Grand Prix
Contested between sleek Bugatti Veyron and Lamborghini

Unhappy lands are now divided between
The empires that can cease the territory
Orchestrating tussle between predators and prey

People are terrorized as their
Defenses are badly breached
Meanwhile, Mad king reigns supreme
Dreaming of a New world order
Where monsters fighting monsters are legalized
To an extent where humanity is
Decomposed into an atomic device

This continent is now like a vessel
Lost in the storm by its own undoing
The goal for its citizen is to survive
As the mad king is ready to jab in the boxing ring
To flatten you in front of your offspring

Far East is wedded between the cow horns
And the lavishness of dark ****
Or some say, between the missiles of the north
And the giant Eagle which is hovering back and forth
In a tormented and scourged peninsula burnt in wrath

The route all they have chosen
Will only welcome wrangling dispute
Among the priests, lords and cash kings
To wield their tantrum whether Solomon’s IQ
Was fluke in the Daniel’s Court of lucky ******?

Even, when the apparitions from the land of unseen yield
To the higher hierarchy who are pulling the strings
There must be a new world order is on the offing
Sacrifices have been made, a dictum has been uttered
The chained armies are to be liberated, barriers are to be broken
The topography of this earth will be dashed in the lashing wild fire.
Mateuš Conrad May 2018
so I says to the moth sleeping
on a kitchen curtain:
allow my hand curled
to be as soft as a laced
napkin, and you'll fly out
from my chamber prior
to the sunrise scything
the morning dew...
        ****!
     and as I lit a candle and
gently uncurled my hand
into a proud lotus
with a sitting Buddha:
the moth disappeared
    with what felt like...
a kingfisher diving into
the stillness of a narcissus pupil,
near figment,
replacement of
a woman's authenticity
of belief, subsequent
gangrene, akin to the one
success story bound
to the rigours of Walt...
****! thin air...
   a moth in this kingdom
of night, is lover
to the kingdom of day...
a fern replaces a laurel...
immobile drench
of autumnal perfumery
of sly, snail *** oyster
gluttony of excess saliva...
no cannon riddle salute...
deafening the living,
bewildering the dead...
my adversary is not worth
the impetus and subsequent
ordeal of gained
responsibility of Cain...
vain vagabond...
truant lavishness of
lavender...
     silence reveals...
what word is best said yet
best unworn...
   hardly woken...
like a child asked for buttocks
before a jab counter Odra...
counter Ospa...
            mid-dream...
           meningitis hepitatis
worn A, B, C, all through to
D?
         I see nothing short
of the clamour of the living
turned, dead,
   and no drunk statue...
only rigid, copper frames...
best seek the concept
of a cube in a cage...
             than a god in a man
in a man in a universe
with whatever strings attached
no more than chance, contra will,
in this circus of stars...
   however the elaborate
expansions of space,
reiterated by the whimsical
musings of time...
there's the bound man,
the rubric standard,
    the reiteration and
sense expanding cull: contract
  reiteration of medium...
the plateau man:
the safety net inferno...
10 generations apart,
and still: without a Dante...
and thank ****
Bukowski didn't mention Dante!
eerie now, my reading of
the "Bolognese" tirade,
and the monopoly
          of "earned" bachelorhood
of... the ma than becomes the gran
and the hopeful bride who...
can't make a broth...
as well as you...
           but of course...
rasta best explains:
     I is responsible for all...
     pardonable am... 100 years later,
and, apparently,
it didn't originate in Zurich...
  
      papa dont preach,  
I'm emeritus...
      Etc. Etc. in nomine
gratia plena...

words have become
quasi iconoclastic
within the confines of keeping
up with the rigour
of crafting logo...
coca cola, CoCa CoLa...
the ******* black madonna of
Częstochowa...

     genuflex of the abstracted
tetragrammaton...
   Y 'ere,
    
    W over d'er

                        HH: rugby.

FeO: iron oxide...
  BBC4 (radio):
      the Ushers...
    Churchill's θ...
    id est:
   not cheesy...
   w'ah'ver:
   w'eh'wee w'eh'wee
      veering on vague:
V(e) 'ucking, 'uck of e
     pringle.

very discrete,
that definite article...
scissor atheist thought,
either an indefinite
article of A...
    or the rubric of lost
items on the tube...
   with a genesis of
  a-;
    oddly enough...
no lost umbrellas in this one...

because god forbid a language
should ever incline to be
shackled to a mind only
safe in confining itself
to running a school, yard,
and brick cascade of
***** counter excavations
of equal numbering,
to avoid the heretical waste...
doon d' 'oobe...
    
    how else to translate
"******", shittz painting?
      poetry is...
the lost art of counter rhetoric...
a poem ought to shut
someone up...
suffocate them...
          rather than be,
what it currently is...
impedium of
replica...

     **** me...
even I had to check the dictionary
to convince myself
of the stature of but three words...

impedium of replica...
at least plagiarising painting
has a thrill of
plagiarism behind it,
a mischevious
         ploy on employing
subsequent experts...

               my tongue, mostly
completes itself,
on how best it confiscates
the flame of a burning out candle,
and less...
on how a slug might burp
in the Royal Albert Hall.
Elijah May 2018
you can smell the money.
the aroma is tempting.
I know the power she possesses;
Mastering the world,
she has a hold on us.
On me.

very conniving, money.
Masterful in the art of stealing our hearts.
From what matters if we let it.
Causing rifts in relationships,
And breaks in the bank.

she knows we need her.
she plays right with our feelings.
Slipping through some of our fingers,
We can never keep a tight grip.

because of her, some become addicts.
Addicted to her lavishness.
Addicted to the smell of her,
Feel of her, look of her;
Especially when her faces are blue.

Kids that never seen a lot of her,
Coming off the porch trying to get a glimpse.
Holding hundreds, over excited.
Parents saying “get in this house, its past dark. if you value your life.”
But money make them wait there;
On that block.

She’s got a chokehold on them boys.
Tight fist, hard hearts.
“Let the money **** you, like it killed your father”
They’re not trying to hear that noise.

Money, she make them do crazy things.
She make them buy diamond rings, and big chains,
And never save.
She make them slaves.
So they never learn and they never stay,
In one place.

They’re never woke.
They sleep all day.
Until money calls, and it’s time to get paid.
Some of them even opt to make money,
Instead of build families.
and Some of their families are only being held by the red and blue threads that hold money.
So, some of their families only want them because they hold money,
The moment they’re broke again,
They’re alone again.
poem about the allure and woes of money. being addicted, and living life with money as your leader. you get it first. enjoy
Ash May 2019
Love dressed herself up in lavish abundance over the course of two years then decided to be herself and stripped back to her nothingness. She paraded in Jealousy, tried on Heart-break, and even went through a phase with Anxiety before settling on her original lavishness. Love is fleeting. Love is nothing, and yet in the moment, she means everything. What's gone is never gone just unfit. All it takes is a reminiscent moment for love to spurn again.
IlIIllIIII Mar 2016
extravagance is his style.
but there’s something in denial.
his lavishness withdraws when it’s dark,
as he sits down to count his marks.

he proudly proclaims his fame,
yet a hook drags onto his name.
his sociable aura emanates from his shell,
but inside, his lies create a living hell.

why he does this, i’m not quite sure,
he only finds himself pondering why he feels so insecure.
one day i fear i might find him with some rope,
asking “why did i do this, i had a lot of hope.”
poetryaccident Jul 2019
Excuse the logic presented here
absolute by appearance sake
with normality assumed by all
exhibition of standard’s breadth

a moniker of dependency
set askew by life’s hopes
wishing for lavishness
beyond the scope of the mundane

the appearance of verity
a falsehood brought to the front
the facade seems secure
waiting for the lurking cracks

knowledge born of painful angst
now stillborn in your midst
behind the scenes there is much more
a madness spun too soon revealed.

© 2019. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20190701.
The poem “A Madness Spun” is about presenting normality while desiring to express much more.
Ben Woodmansee Dec 2018
They’ve  always been there
I’ve never noticed them before
They’ve been ever watchful safeguards always
The stories that could be told
The lessons that could be learned
All from the four beings that have never spoken a word
They keep us safe
When we are in their comfort
They keep us relaxed
When we choose to slumber
They keep us secured
They have never been rewarded never once
Yet their lavishness never sways
Knowing that you’re always there
Thinking about me
Makes my yesterdays wash away
You are the barrier that defends us
You are the one that didn’t get away
You are
Bruce Levine Nov 2018
Striations
Gradations
Filling the atmosphere
In stillness

Pink
Mixed with
White and gray
To almost holiness

Fallacy of fate
Languish
The unknowing
With helplessness

Testing the tide
Pressing forward
Through fear
Of loneliness

Watching the idle
Wither without them knowing
Through vacant
Wastefulness

As the nouveau riche
Luxuriate
In ostentatious
Lavishness

And society’s
Double meaning
The self-inflicted oxymoron
And the selfishness

Promulgates
The stagnation
The paucity
Which ends in emptiness
Descovia Jan 2020
From the West to South
A guy been going a float
Married to the game no divorce
Like a Jedi I am
powered by the force.
streaming coast to coast
I have alot on my dome
dancin with death
On these very ropes!
It is so hard to cope
Feelin the pressure
In my throat
Putting a lot on me
Man you fools be
Doin the most
I been searchin for God
Trying to revive our hope
Ya'll playin around
Thinking I am a joke
Ya'll do nothin mo
Brag and boast
Try to look cool
For yo folks
Egg based bois gonna crack.
You in this for real?
Or in for yolks?
Rulin over all
No majority vote! (Ah ha!)

Talkin about how
You are the GOAT
Boi that is one title
You gotta tote
If you are poison
Then I am the ANTIDOTE
Curious. Delirious. Too serious
What is up?
I don't even kno!
People Waltzing around
like Disney.
But you putting too much on HOLD
I know most of you'll FOLD!
Run this ****. Get it, on the ROAD!
I am trying to GET IT and GO!

No fear in my heart.
It's visible in my eyes

On the rise. On the grind.
The time is mine.
Going forward!
Don't fall behind!
****** these lines
****** these rhymes
No murderous vibes
Confines of a murderous mind
Lyrical slaughter. Is the name of game and i turned it into a CRIME!

Mr Rap Game Lyricist
Rhyme master riddle-list
I will mirror a diss
Like Cristo said...
Promise this. I am a pacifist
But I will pass a fist...
yo jokes ain't funny
Playing games
So Why laughin b**
Don't get G, homie
That will end QUICK
You will get broke down
Rolled up, smoked up, that's LEGIT
Just cause I am black
I am suppose to
Be on some savage ****!?
You short on a lot of things
SQUASH that noise,
stupid cabbage patch kids!
Eat your vegetables!
Peas, beans, potatoes, tomatoes, carrots, & radishes!
Gotta get going about my "Greens"
My family deserves lavishness
Breaking the cycle
Cause we can't afford
Any more damages.
The world's trip.
But they say
"Life's a *****"
You foolin yourself tho...
If a woman like
Karma exists
Best believe I am
Going to marry her
and have her kids!
Lyrical slaughter
where I be at
Gosh... ****. Descovia going
Extreme to the MAX!
Wow you really
Put anything on the track
Y o u dunno me
Hit you So hard even.

Shady won't bring you back!!
Cyclone Dec 2019
Sober minded, clovers that's bolder is told the finest, turn loose, reduce this solider, pushovers that told their kindness, minus his liveliness, crying "Buy me, I'll die a *****", I can only just imagine the sadness in flashing this, lavishness, with no class, I'm an *** if I'm grabbing this, **** this sash, plus this brass, this task, I'd love to miss, laugh last, fast madness, but cruising to soothe my way, no attractiveness, in fact I'm not ravished, I move away, who's to say, running is gunning for punishment, if you won by ******* this blunt to escape that ruckus *****, **** that ****, stuck in destruction, where is the hype?, I'd like to get my stripes, such a sight to see in the night!, though this life likes tough and then tougher to touch the ****** and delude, the clovers that think they're sober, THIS SOLDIER'S INTERLUDE.
Kamski Feb 2020
They dance like the spirits of the forest
Who sing of lavishness and death;
The cursed stars are their souls’ guest—
The gods shiver in their every breath.

They raise their hands to euphoria—
Discord released in floating sweat
That dissolves into flickering mania—
Fireflies in swarm hide the night’s net.

Like the sea waves they are washed down;
Like the reflections of light they are fractured cries;
Visions and senses are the fragmented crown
Of the paper world behind their shrouded eyes.
ON VALENTINE'S DAY

Valentine's Day is now just round the corner

To spend it with you, would be such an honour

Lavishness any I wish not,  only your  company I seek

But know I well,  you won't even care to peek

People few, are lucky to this opportunity get

Anyway wish you well I do; with my eyes wet

For me, it's your happiness that matters

Anyway,  most lovers, most  of the time are mad hatters;

Live who for their beloved's happiness in pieces.

Wish you I  happiness, prosperity and peace

Spend the day I will with your sweet memories

Beautiful n most precious to  me are those reveries

Armin Dutia Motashaw

— The End —