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"lunatics" poems
The distant park Was a graveyard of dead stars. Each streetlight a system of worlds, So many lives between each mote of light, Indistinguishable in their unique love, Bespoke hate, and the drama of the modern age. Drunk laughter behind transparent Double doors. Another hotel balcony, Another cloud behind the canopy Of marijuana eyes To unsettle me from the crowd. She points out, when you look closely You can see the disorder Amongst all constellations Of life and love and litter; Of discarded Coke cans And temporary highs. She says this is not a scene To imbue the ****** of a present mind, More to baulk at the incompletion Of one thousand to-do lists; A million reasons why You should just stay inside. She says you can see the human swell Of ignorance, our city lights Blotting out the stars In a black ocean of broken politic And irretrievable fault lines- Divisions between us all. Lives twisted with professional smiles And eyes lit with stunning indifference. Still, I have felt charity and warmth On the doorstep of lunatics and fascists. I have read the love of life In faces of those who gave up. I have recounted countless artists Who saw beauty In moments that precisely lacked it. I have spent too many nights In anaesthesia, Fleeing each instance of feeling And terror; all the tremors That tell me I am still alive. Continued to stare at the lights Long after her voice And the laughter inside had gone. Heard waves in the traffic. A world so large, so expansive, It can never truly sleep. Every broken heart, Every war-torn land, Every promotion, Every one-night stand. I wonder what would happen If we all stood still. If we all took one moment To observe the motion That unfolds beneath Our static windowsill. If we all took one moment To recover our loss. The wars that we won, The feelings, forgot. The hell we retain; Our paradise, lost.
0
Feb 6, 2017
Feb 6, 2017 at 11:07 AM UTC
Edward-Coles
Windowsill
The distant park Was a graveyard of dead stars. Each streetlight a system of worlds, So many lives between each mote of light, Indistinguishable in their unique love, Bespoke hate, and the drama of the modern age. Drunk laughter behind transparent Double doors. Another hotel balcony, Another cloud behind the canopy Of marijuana eyes To unsettle me from the crowd. She points out, when you look closely You can see the disorder Amongst all constellations Of life and love and litter; Of discarded Coke cans And temporary highs. She says this is not a scene To imbue the ****** of a present mind, More to baulk at the incompletion Of one thousand to-do lists; A million reasons why You should just stay inside. She says you can see the human swell Of ignorance, our city lights Blotting out the stars In a black ocean of broken politic And irretrievable fault lines- Divisions between us all. Lives twisted with professional smiles And eyes lit with stunning indifference. Still, I have felt charity and warmth On the doorstep of lunatics and fascists. I have read the love of life In faces of those who gave up. I have recounted countless artists Who saw beauty In moments that precisely lacked it. I have spent too many nights In anaesthesia, Fleeing each instance of feeling And terror; all the tremors That tell me I am still alive. Continued to stare at the lights Long after her voice And the laughter inside had gone. Heard waves in the traffic. A world so large, so expansive, It can never truly sleep. Every broken heart, Every war-torn land, Every promotion, Every one-night stand. I wonder what would happen If we all stood still. If we all took one moment To observe the motion That unfolds beneath Our static windowsill. If we all took one moment To recover our loss. The wars that we won, The feelings, forgot. The hell we retain; Our paradise, lost.
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65
I am in a crate, the crate that was ours, full of white shirts and salad greens, the icebox knocking at our delectable knocks, and I wore movies in my eyes, and you wore eggs in your tunnel, and we played sheets, sheets, sheets all day, even in the bathtub like lunatics. But today I set the bed afire and smoke is filling the room, it is getting hot enough for the walls to melt, and the icebox, a gluey white tooth. I have on a mask in order to write my last words, and they are just for you, and I will place them in the icebox saved for ***** and tomatoes, and perhaps they will last. The dog will not. Her spots will fall off. The old letters will melt into a black bee. The night gowns are already shredding into paper, the yellow, the red, the purple. The bed -- well, the sheets have turned to gold -- hard, hard gold, and the mattress is being kissed into a stone. As for me, my dearest Foxxy, my poems to you may or may not reach the icebox and its hopeful eternity, for isn't yours enough? The one where you name my name right out in P.R.? If my toes weren't yielding to pitch I'd tell the whole story -- not just the sheet story but the belly-button story, the pried-eyelid story, the whiskey-sour-of-the-nipple story -- and shovel back our love where it belonged. Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black and a red powder seeps through my veins, our little crate goes down so publicly and without meaning it, you see, meaning a solo act, a cremation of the love, but instead we seem to be going down right in the middle of a Russian street, the flames making the sound of the horse being beaten and beaten, the whip is adoring its human triumph while the flies wait, blow by blow, straight from United Fruit, Inc.
0
19.6k
Anne Sexton
Love Letter Written In A Burning Building
I am in a crate, the crate that was ours, full of white shirts and salad greens, the icebox knocking at our delectable knocks, and I wore movies in my eyes, and you wore eggs in your tunnel, and we played sheets, sheets, sheets all day, even in the bathtub like lunatics. But today I set the bed afire and smoke is filling the room, it is getting hot enough for the walls to melt, and the icebox, a gluey white tooth. I have on a mask in order to write my last words, and they are just for you, and I will place them in the icebox saved for ***** and tomatoes, and perhaps they will last. The dog will not. Her spots will fall off. The old letters will melt into a black bee. The night gowns are already shredding into paper, the yellow, the red, the purple. The bed -- well, the sheets have turned to gold -- hard, hard gold, and the mattress is being kissed into a stone. As for me, my dearest Foxxy, my poems to you may or may not reach the icebox and its hopeful eternity, for isn't yours enough? The one where you name my name right out in P.R.? If my toes weren't yielding to pitch I'd tell the whole story -- not just the sheet story but the belly-button story, the pried-eyelid story, the whiskey-sour-of-the-nipple story -- and shovel back our love where it belonged. Despite my asbestos gloves, the cough is filling me with black and a red powder seeps through my veins, our little crate goes down so publicly and without meaning it, you see, meaning a solo act, a cremation of the love, but instead we seem to be going down right in the middle of a Russian street, the flames making the sound of the horse being beaten and beaten, the whip is adoring its human triumph while the flies wait, blow by blow, straight from United Fruit, Inc.
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48
I know the toothless women Who crumple on the streets The rain bleeds through their cardboard, The cold drips through their feet I know the dying children With anaesthetic arms The angels crowd around them With time that burns their palms I've hugged the brainwashed gangsters With money drenched in blood I've heard their broken weeping While digging up the mud I've seen the starving faces Of the tired girls at home The broken, hectic psyches That eat them to the bone I know the burning poets With a desperate thirst for life The need for finding soulmates That pierces like a knife There's weary public servants Who risk their lives for good And prove compassion every day Yet stay misunderstood Human love is buried Beneath the plastic weight Of angry allegations And a world that feeds off hate These people may be messy, But they're beautiful and real With hidden dreams and secrets And ability to feel We have a place to run to With lights of peach and gold Where all the weight is lifted And all our tales are told We live in total freedom So safe beneath the moon And though it seems ambitious Our dreams will save us soon
0
Aug 28, 2018
Aug 28, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
lilacdom08
Lunatics
I know the toothless women Who crumple on the streets The rain bleeds through their cardboard, The cold drips through their feet I know the dying children With anaesthetic arms The angels crowd around them With time that burns their palms I've hugged the brainwashed gangsters With money drenched in blood I've heard their broken weeping While digging up the mud I've seen the starving faces Of the tired girls at home The broken, hectic psyches That eat them to the bone I know the burning poets With a desperate thirst for life The need for finding soulmates That pierces like a knife There's weary public servants Who risk their lives for good And prove compassion every day Yet stay misunderstood Human love is buried Beneath the plastic weight Of angry allegations And a world that feeds off hate These people may be messy, But they're beautiful and real With hidden dreams and secrets And ability to feel We have a place to run to With lights of peach and gold Where all the weight is lifted And all our tales are told We live in total freedom So safe beneath the moon And though it seems ambitious Our dreams will save us soon
Continue reading...
40
Are all footy fanatics Total raving lunatics? The flag's in the bag! We've got lively lads The best we've ever had! Peter Pans on *** The flags that time forgot! Footy finals fever, Talk about dream weavers! Footy finals phobia, TV claustrophobia, Why didn't we win, Any old excuse again! Footy fanatics, Raving lunatics, Footy finals fever, Melbourne's dream weavers!
0
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 4:20 PM UTC
julie-grenness
ODE TO THE AFL! (Unique whimsy of Melbourne, Australia.)
Are all footy fanatics Total raving lunatics? The flag's in the bag! We've got lively lads The best we've ever had! Peter Pans on *** The flags that time forgot! Footy finals fever, Talk about dream weavers! Footy finals phobia, TV claustrophobia, Why didn't we win, Any old excuse again! Footy fanatics, Raving lunatics, Footy finals fever, Melbourne's dream weavers!
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17
Bitter shouting remedies Wailing in the streets Beggars wanting more than just The crumbs off royal seats Fancy ******* lunatics Brainwashing people like twits So ******* what If I'm female And want to ***** her ****
0
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC
lachrymose-and-lies
Those Who Govern Refuse To Change
Bitter shouting remedies Wailing in the streets Beggars wanting more than just The crumbs off royal seats Fancy ******* lunatics Brainwashing people like twits So ******* what If I'm female And want to ***** her ****
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9
we are the masters of self-destruction trying to numb the pain with wine and drugs and smoke filling up our lungs, we write down in lines with no rhyme all the things that make our souls burn and die. our poems bleed we drink their blood then we write again, listening to stupid songs all night wishing sometimes we were deaf wishing we were dead. we let the doors open anyone with a knife can come inside cutting our hearts in half, any tear is welcome to create the ocean around us in which we deliberately drown ourselves. masters of self-destruction, our bodies are temples where dying souls hide, we run till our legs are broken jump off cliffs go between sharks' cheeks forgetting to sleep to dream we bleed we drink we love and hurt it's a madmen game we play each day laughing hysterically while slowly taking steps to the graves we dug for ourselves, the masters of self-destruction we are lunatics worshiping what's not for us to adore crying hiding falling again and again. legs broken, hearts cut and eaten flesh ripped from our bones lungs full of water ears burnt our eyes scream but that's fine 'cause we are the masters of self-destruction and our life is just a mad game
0
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 11:07 PM UTC
loony
masters of self-destruction
we are the masters of self-destruction trying to numb the pain with wine and drugs and smoke filling up our lungs, we write down in lines with no rhyme all the things that make our souls burn and die. our poems bleed we drink their blood then we write again, listening to stupid songs all night wishing sometimes we were deaf wishing we were dead. we let the doors open anyone with a knife can come inside cutting our hearts in half, any tear is welcome to create the ocean around us in which we deliberately drown ourselves. masters of self-destruction, our bodies are temples where dying souls hide, we run till our legs are broken jump off cliffs go between sharks' cheeks forgetting to sleep to dream we bleed we drink we love and hurt it's a madmen game we play each day laughing hysterically while slowly taking steps to the graves we dug for ourselves, the masters of self-destruction we are lunatics worshiping what's not for us to adore crying hiding falling again and again. legs broken, hearts cut and eaten flesh ripped from our bones lungs full of water ears burnt our eyes scream but that's fine 'cause we are the masters of self-destruction and our life is just a mad game
Continue reading...
51
You know, I never met a Frank I really hated too much, except for when I was little and I despised my ******* grandfather for threatening to nail my ears to a door every forty minutes. Having said that, there's a hole somewhere where people vacation from life and I haven't found it, but the closest I can get is bed. I woke up with half my *** still asleep. I hurt somewhere new every day. But hey, it can't all be **** coffee and half wilted daisies, eh? I got my copy of "Eaten by Machines; Collected Poems of Austin Heath." Look at that. My word in print. I'm not making a **** cent off of it, but there it is. I'll call myself a writer now. At least out in the open. Among people. Sigh. What if further on down the century, people decide these years were the first seeds pushed into the dirt that would start the apocalypse? Or, what if we are already the post-apocalypse? This place smells funny. What if the past heard about the future, learned about all the wealth and resources we had at our disposal, and instead built fancier weapons for the war machine? Would they even hesitate to call us monsters, and declare the future the end? What the **** do you think we're looking down? We're all going to go insane, and **** each other in our sleep, and we'll sleep rarely because we realize that it is one big unprofitable blind spot. We'll die half-narcoleptic, insomniac, lucid dreaming lunatics, with manic paranoia and no conscience for violence. In our sleep. Sleep. I can't quite remember why I left bed, I guess I needed more sunshine in my diet. My phone is off, it's past noon, and I haven't eaten. Frank is disappointed.
0
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 1:12 PM UTC
austin-heath
"I'm Drinking Cheap Coffee, My Body Aches From Sleeping or Malnutrition, and Frank is Disappointed."
You know, I never met a Frank I really hated too much, except for when I was little and I despised my ******* grandfather for threatening to nail my ears to a door every forty minutes. Having said that, there's a hole somewhere where people vacation from life and I haven't found it, but the closest I can get is bed. I woke up with half my *** still asleep. I hurt somewhere new every day. But hey, it can't all be **** coffee and half wilted daisies, eh? I got my copy of "Eaten by Machines; Collected Poems of Austin Heath." Look at that. My word in print. I'm not making a **** cent off of it, but there it is. I'll call myself a writer now. At least out in the open. Among people. Sigh. What if further on down the century, people decide these years were the first seeds pushed into the dirt that would start the apocalypse? Or, what if we are already the post-apocalypse? This place smells funny. What if the past heard about the future, learned about all the wealth and resources we had at our disposal, and instead built fancier weapons for the war machine? Would they even hesitate to call us monsters, and declare the future the end? What the **** do you think we're looking down? We're all going to go insane, and **** each other in our sleep, and we'll sleep rarely because we realize that it is one big unprofitable blind spot. We'll die half-narcoleptic, insomniac, lucid dreaming lunatics, with manic paranoia and no conscience for violence. In our sleep. Sleep. I can't quite remember why I left bed, I guess I needed more sunshine in my diet. My phone is off, it's past noon, and I haven't eaten. Frank is disappointed.
Continue reading...
44
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices. My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently. A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness. A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance. Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees. A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness. Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily. Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor. Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances. A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks. A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.) A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers. A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive. A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs. An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal. A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats. A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry. Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness. A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly. Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
0
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
whyamiaspoon
Awesome Alliterations
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices. My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently. A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness. A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance. Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees. A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness. Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily. Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor. Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances. A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks. A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.) A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers. A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive. A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs. An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal. A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats. A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry. Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness. A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly. Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
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20
We can be crazy together Just entertain the thought Two lunatics in tandem Free-falling towards the sun We can be crazy together Demented for each other With pet giraffes and elephants We'll dance while on safari We can be crazy together Like paired un-matching socks We'll open up the heavens With our outlandish thoughts We can be crazy together Since love always requires A fair amount of madness To fill your heart's desires
0
Sep 12, 2010
Sep 12, 2010 at 10:21 AM UTC
robert-key
Crazy
We can be crazy together Just entertain the thought Two lunatics in tandem Free-falling towards the sun We can be crazy together Demented for each other With pet giraffes and elephants We'll dance while on safari We can be crazy together Like paired un-matching socks We'll open up the heavens With our outlandish thoughts We can be crazy together Since love always requires A fair amount of madness To fill your heart's desires
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16
readily acknowledge our highest standard of luna loving madness we treat our luna connection with equality - great affection as well as sensible trepidation, for its transgender nature, though well disguised, is but surficial,  that we all ken, when compared to ***** bewitching covens who in the forest deepest dens, exclaim their aroused allegiance over and over and over again but so so many lunatics lurking in the poetic coven, who knew! do not ask all the luna~ticced poets to step forward, unless you wish to crash the internet's servers whom I'm told, who too, are silent secret devotees who  among us has not scribed truth and lies, when standing outside, greeting the divine presence
0
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 8:04 PM UTC
false-poets
Lunar-tics! Everywhere! Who knew?
readily acknowledge our highest standard of luna loving madness we treat our luna connection with equality - great affection as well as sensible trepidation, for its transgender nature, though well disguised, is but surficial,  that we all ken, when compared to ***** bewitching covens who in the forest deepest dens, exclaim their aroused allegiance over and over and over again but so so many lunatics lurking in the poetic coven, who knew! do not ask all the luna~ticced poets to step forward, unless you wish to crash the internet's servers whom I'm told, who too, are silent secret devotees who  among us has not scribed truth and lies, when standing outside, greeting the divine presence
Continue reading...
12
Coming from the shadows a six armed samurai, Followed closely by glowstick wielding neon ninji, Grips of *** swigging pirates swing from the rafters, Swallowed alive by blacklight monsters, Gangs of ***** smoking gurus, Armed to the teeth with translucent didgeridoos, Monks parade in swirling vestments, Whilst the shaman trip in lotus testament, Gods transfixed by blood tear beauty,, As humanity’s heroes slay bejeweled dragons, The king with two faces is beheaded, By his charlatans, harlequins, fools and jesters, Chaotic, prophetic killers run amok, The order of lunatics chant as the time is struck, A battle royale then follows, As robots and aliens envelope, Brilliant beams and whirring mechanics, Clash with steel, rock, bone and sticks, Screams from the heads of the thieves, As their brains are devoured by zombies
0
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 11:44 PM UTC
wack-tastic
COOL
Coming from the shadows a six armed samurai, Followed closely by glowstick wielding neon ninji, Grips of *** swigging pirates swing from the rafters, Swallowed alive by blacklight monsters, Gangs of ***** smoking gurus, Armed to the teeth with translucent didgeridoos, Monks parade in swirling vestments, Whilst the shaman trip in lotus testament, Gods transfixed by blood tear beauty,, As humanity’s heroes slay bejeweled dragons, The king with two faces is beheaded, By his charlatans, harlequins, fools and jesters, Chaotic, prophetic killers run amok, The order of lunatics chant as the time is struck, A battle royale then follows, As robots and aliens envelope, Brilliant beams and whirring mechanics, Clash with steel, rock, bone and sticks, Screams from the heads of the thieves, As their brains are devoured by zombies
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20
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely, Profligating goons in obsidian gowns gathered under rainbow moonshine shaking bronze hands, howling and ******   in the shambles of the moon,   rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight. The mellow marines mourned over malice, lionizing over lost ones, many howled venerated, exalted in wonder in  favor of their thrilling grace, and delight, and brilliance, and might! but some neighboring sticklers,     behaved haughty and in disdain,   of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes signaling out                  to the seers of the sea, singing to the wands overwatching the wedding, and ravens listened,    roving like noble patrolsmen. Traveleres and trainees at sea    humble and bright niave, and frieghtened in traverse,            volatile and toiling,            tireless, Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,) Rumaging through rain, fireciely, rallying and rableroused, through towering halls of mohogony,      hefty and wholesome were their hearts though, beast of the woodsy edifice were foul and benumb scowling with contempt, haste to devide and devised to hindrance. Hence the heroes heed    to the valleys of rose, and violet, and strawberry fields of forever,  seeking Saint Nicholas, in the bustling Byzantium,       in the murky shadows of doubt.
0
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
zen96
A Dozen Cavaliers At Sea
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely, Profligating goons in obsidian gowns gathered under rainbow moonshine shaking bronze hands, howling and ******   in the shambles of the moon,   rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight. The mellow marines mourned over malice, lionizing over lost ones, many howled venerated, exalted in wonder in  favor of their thrilling grace, and delight, and brilliance, and might! but some neighboring sticklers,     behaved haughty and in disdain,   of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes signaling out                  to the seers of the sea, singing to the wands overwatching the wedding, and ravens listened,    roving like noble patrolsmen. Traveleres and trainees at sea    humble and bright niave, and frieghtened in traverse,            volatile and toiling,            tireless, Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,) Rumaging through rain, fireciely, rallying and rableroused, through towering halls of mohogony,      hefty and wholesome were their hearts though, beast of the woodsy edifice were foul and benumb scowling with contempt, haste to devide and devised to hindrance. Hence the heroes heed    to the valleys of rose, and violet, and strawberry fields of forever,  seeking Saint Nicholas, in the bustling Byzantium,       in the murky shadows of doubt.
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41
Their lies are prompted from teleprompters and executed flaw-fully from taxpayer's helicopters. They say we're protecting foreign daughters while filtering profits to desert clad marauders. Blank faced public fear conversing religion and politics while passively electing lunatics with trigger switches. Arm the rebels they bite the hand that feeds the middle east burns while America ******* bleeds. The white, blue and red camo helmets on their heads farm fed frat boys equipped with jackets of lead. We watched Saddam crumble his statue beaten with shoes but the same war we already fought the puppets now will choose. Fight the good fight support the troops. Drone strikes by twilight **** the troops. An Army of one Sempter Fi Do or Die I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket covered in a flag you valued more than your life. Our heroes are our welfare stop blaming single mothers plastic bags tied around throats water boarding dissent, it smothers. **** the Medal of Honor I'm tearing up your portrait Obama. How many can benefit from free tuition? But we give it to those trained to slaughter. Our priority is the police state Nazis pretending to tote freedom. We sip our Americanos And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading. **By Evan Ponter @evanponter**
0
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 11:34 PM UTC
evan-ponter
The Senate Takes A Vote
Their lies are prompted from teleprompters and executed flaw-fully from taxpayer's helicopters. They say we're protecting foreign daughters while filtering profits to desert clad marauders. Blank faced public fear conversing religion and politics while passively electing lunatics with trigger switches. Arm the rebels they bite the hand that feeds the middle east burns while America ******* bleeds. The white, blue and red camo helmets on their heads farm fed frat boys equipped with jackets of lead. We watched Saddam crumble his statue beaten with shoes but the same war we already fought the puppets now will choose. Fight the good fight support the troops. Drone strikes by twilight **** the troops. An Army of one Sempter Fi Do or Die I won't shed a single tear when you come back in a casket covered in a flag you valued more than your life. Our heroes are our welfare stop blaming single mothers plastic bags tied around throats water boarding dissent, it smothers. **** the Medal of Honor I'm tearing up your portrait Obama. How many can benefit from free tuition? But we give it to those trained to slaughter. Our priority is the police state Nazis pretending to tote freedom. We sip our Americanos And retain nothing from the newspaper we are reading. **By Evan Ponter @evanponter**
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47
Pitter Patter Fall the rain The dwelling Bedlam of London Residence of the insane Behind metal rusted bars Shall they forever remain Raving madmen   Who chose with the mind's chaos to lay How many poets Are in the echoing screams The artist's visions In lifeless eyes A vacant being The mad king rife with venom Sitting upon corruption's throne The sculptor Genius hands Frozen into stone Frightened into psychosis For fear of being alone Pitter Patter The maniacs clatter Lightly falls the rain Upon the dark roof As the lunatics howl Pitter Patter This poem is copyrighted and stored in author's base.  All material is subject to Copyright Infringement laws Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby
0
Jul 8, 2013
Jul 8, 2013 at 9:07 PM UTC
tammy-m-darby
Pitter Patter
Pitter Patter Fall the rain The dwelling Bedlam of London Residence of the insane Behind metal rusted bars Shall they forever remain Raving madmen   Who chose with the mind's chaos to lay How many poets Are in the echoing screams The artist's visions In lifeless eyes A vacant being The mad king rife with venom Sitting upon corruption's throne The sculptor Genius hands Frozen into stone Frightened into psychosis For fear of being alone Pitter Patter The maniacs clatter Lightly falls the rain Upon the dark roof As the lunatics howl Pitter Patter This poem is copyrighted and stored in author's base.  All material is subject to Copyright Infringement laws Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M Darby
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31
Please be aware, the arrogance of a Burglar that breaks into your home and steals your property is permissible Please carefully note that the arrogance of a stinking bully that oppresses you and wants to cower you down is permissible Please take into consideration that the arrogance of a gang that terrorizes and bullies is permissible Please bear in mind the arrogance of liars, twisters, slanderers fraudsters and defamers is permissible Please remember the arrogance of fringe lunatics to unjustly condemn and victimize and bring chaos and destruction to an innocent human is permissible Please keep in your appraisals the arrogance of a misled majority to impose, mob, obstruct, harass and hound is democracy in action and is permissible Please note that the arrogance and ignorance of offensively discriminating against any foreigner or minority member is permissible Please note to work hard and earn an honest living is Arrogant Please know to stand up to criminal bullies is Arrogant Please know to stand up to stinking bullies is Arrogant Please know to speak up for yourself is Arrogant Please note to refuse to be cowered by thieves is Arrogant Please know to refuse to be browbeaten is Arrogant Please know to refuse to have your confidence drained is Arrogant Please know to stand up to adversity is Arrogance Please know to not be weak and Feeble under pressure is Arrogance Please know to have self respect and be self assured is Arrogant Please know to possess your own mind is Arrogance Please know to offer as much as a squeak when being unfairly and unjustly treated is Arrogance Above all please know that we invented the English Language and have the sole knowledge as to what constitutes Arrogance, whether you like it or not, and if you protest about that, you are ****** guilty of Arrogance...my friend! Please be strictly conscious that Arrogance is weakness, mental weakness. Falling to the desires of our darker instincts and succumbing to conceit and smugness. Please pay particular attention to the salient fact that Arrogance portraits a total lack of human decency towards other humans Know that when arrogance ceases humanity ascends. And we we all live in a lovely perceptibly white and wonderful world
0
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 5:09 AM UTC
yenson
Do As I Say...or else........
Please be aware, the arrogance of a Burglar that breaks into your home and steals your property is permissible Please carefully note that the arrogance of a stinking bully that oppresses you and wants to cower you down is permissible Please take into consideration that the arrogance of a gang that terrorizes and bullies is permissible Please bear in mind the arrogance of liars, twisters, slanderers fraudsters and defamers is permissible Please remember the arrogance of fringe lunatics to unjustly condemn and victimize and bring chaos and destruction to an innocent human is permissible Please keep in your appraisals the arrogance of a misled majority to impose, mob, obstruct, harass and hound is democracy in action and is permissible Please note that the arrogance and ignorance of offensively discriminating against any foreigner or minority member is permissible Please note to work hard and earn an honest living is Arrogant Please know to stand up to criminal bullies is Arrogant Please know to stand up to stinking bullies is Arrogant Please know to speak up for yourself is Arrogant Please note to refuse to be cowered by thieves is Arrogant Please know to refuse to be browbeaten is Arrogant Please know to refuse to have your confidence drained is Arrogant Please know to stand up to adversity is Arrogance Please know to not be weak and Feeble under pressure is Arrogance Please know to have self respect and be self assured is Arrogant Please know to possess your own mind is Arrogance Please know to offer as much as a squeak when being unfairly and unjustly treated is Arrogance Above all please know that we invented the English Language and have the sole knowledge as to what constitutes Arrogance, whether you like it or not, and if you protest about that, you are ****** guilty of Arrogance...my friend! Please be strictly conscious that Arrogance is weakness, mental weakness. Falling to the desires of our darker instincts and succumbing to conceit and smugness. Please pay particular attention to the salient fact that Arrogance portraits a total lack of human decency towards other humans Know that when arrogance ceases humanity ascends. And we we all live in a lovely perceptibly white and wonderful world
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36
I have hid behind broken shadows, disappointed daydreams and somber reminders. I have been bitten by the black widow of life, poisoning my veins with her venom of death. I have been mutilated like one of Jack the Ripper's victim on the dark streets of London, left to bleed out. I have escaped the evil smiles of Pogo the Clown that crept in my dreams as I slept at night, crying my black tears. I have been Bound, Tied and Killed by the innocent friendly neighbor, twisted in the head by the devil himself. I could hear the screams of the pregnant actress as the Family took her life in a blood bath, as they began their Helter Skelter. I can not escape this Alcatraz of torture in my mind, that has been placed there by the lunatics of our time. But it is fun in this asylum. Welcome to my padded cell.
0
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 1:56 AM UTC
silent-screams
Escape
I have hid behind broken shadows, disappointed daydreams and somber reminders. I have been bitten by the black widow of life, poisoning my veins with her venom of death. I have been mutilated like one of Jack the Ripper's victim on the dark streets of London, left to bleed out. I have escaped the evil smiles of Pogo the Clown that crept in my dreams as I slept at night, crying my black tears. I have been Bound, Tied and Killed by the innocent friendly neighbor, twisted in the head by the devil himself. I could hear the screams of the pregnant actress as the Family took her life in a blood bath, as they began their Helter Skelter. I can not escape this Alcatraz of torture in my mind, that has been placed there by the lunatics of our time. But it is fun in this asylum. Welcome to my padded cell.
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8
Just like Goddess Kali I am feared when not understood my enemies know my loving passion are my kids those demons slander me fearing the mother goddess in me I gave life and inadvertedly heartbroken waived it I give life birthed my children against all adds motherhood apeaces me injustice enrages my dance I am Goddess Kali Karijin ~~ Precious daughters Elena Rose Jeanette fear not I save I protect I write it's my frenzied dance surounded by demons ferocious you and me won many a gruesome wars to protect you three your children alike my light I have deamed Remember Mother Kali I love you miss you more and more and for you my life I lay ~~~. The goddess mother (excerpt) ~estranged from kids ~ ~~~~~~ "The stars are blotted out,     The clouds are covering clouds, It is darkness vibrant, sonant.     In the roaring, whirling wind Are the souls of a million lunatics     Just loose from the prison-house, Wrenching trees by the roots,     Sweeping all from the path... The sea has joined the fray,     And swirls up mountain-waves, To reach the pitchy sky.     The flash of lurid light Reveals on every side     A thousand, thousand shades Of Death begrimed and black." love & motherhood apeace me. ~~~~~~~ By: Karijinbba inspired by Hindi ink Durga-Kali Shiva Lord's Wife revised 06-5-19 ~~~~
0
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 11:27 PM UTC
karijinbba
Goddess Kali Mother.
Just like Goddess Kali I am feared when not understood my enemies know my loving passion are my kids those demons slander me fearing the mother goddess in me I gave life and inadvertedly heartbroken waived it I give life birthed my children against all adds motherhood apeaces me injustice enrages my dance I am Goddess Kali Karijin ~~ Precious daughters Elena Rose Jeanette fear not I save I protect I write it's my frenzied dance surounded by demons ferocious you and me won many a gruesome wars to protect you three your children alike my light I have deamed Remember Mother Kali I love you miss you more and more and for you my life I lay ~~~. The goddess mother (excerpt) ~estranged from kids ~ ~~~~~~ "The stars are blotted out,     The clouds are covering clouds, It is darkness vibrant, sonant.     In the roaring, whirling wind Are the souls of a million lunatics     Just loose from the prison-house, Wrenching trees by the roots,     Sweeping all from the path... The sea has joined the fray,     And swirls up mountain-waves, To reach the pitchy sky.     The flash of lurid light Reveals on every side     A thousand, thousand shades Of Death begrimed and black." love & motherhood apeace me. ~~~~~~~ By: Karijinbba inspired by Hindi ink Durga-Kali Shiva Lord's Wife revised 06-5-19 ~~~~
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58
7/12/12   16:25pm At what price does man find favour with God? Down through the roiling clouds, from heavenly heights to earthly clay, where scribes had written scrolls of doctrines; down through old crumbling architraves, temples of cold ideals,  man spawned the Vengeful Word. With rage of angels, like effigies of gods, there sprang forth lords and hypocrites; all claimed to speak for God.  Then, in the maelstrom, came genocide of innocents, and hellfire fell like rain. When does a tower become too tall for God? Out of a clear blue sky came silver harbingers of doom, where men were writing drafts and spreadsheets; now crumbling down around them, swathed in hate-begotten fire; spawned from a vengeful god. No mortal angels could save the ones who perished, caught above the line of flame; while some below survived. Yet, in the chaos, sworn enemies in faith came out to save each other's fall. At what price can man enter Paradise? High above the minarets, the veiled dome of the sky students look up with wistful longing; yearning to be good radicals and cross the lines of fire to reap heaven's reward. Hate's vengeful angels pretenders to the throne of God take many shapes and forms, while moderates stay quiet; and with their silence give passive leave for lunatics to prate at heaven's door.
0
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
sara-l-russell
Rage of Angels
7/12/12   16:25pm At what price does man find favour with God? Down through the roiling clouds, from heavenly heights to earthly clay, where scribes had written scrolls of doctrines; down through old crumbling architraves, temples of cold ideals,  man spawned the Vengeful Word. With rage of angels, like effigies of gods, there sprang forth lords and hypocrites; all claimed to speak for God.  Then, in the maelstrom, came genocide of innocents, and hellfire fell like rain. When does a tower become too tall for God? Out of a clear blue sky came silver harbingers of doom, where men were writing drafts and spreadsheets; now crumbling down around them, swathed in hate-begotten fire; spawned from a vengeful god. No mortal angels could save the ones who perished, caught above the line of flame; while some below survived. Yet, in the chaos, sworn enemies in faith came out to save each other's fall. At what price can man enter Paradise? High above the minarets, the veiled dome of the sky students look up with wistful longing; yearning to be good radicals and cross the lines of fire to reap heaven's reward. Hate's vengeful angels pretenders to the throne of God take many shapes and forms, while moderates stay quiet; and with their silence give passive leave for lunatics to prate at heaven's door.
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31
You stopped responding at my second jesus **** joke, but I didn't care, and I was the one at work. Aces. Even vacation is stressful for you, although I'll admit my humor isn't great, but amongst friends I'm hysterical. I only have about a handful, and they're all ******* weird as me except for a couple or several. I'm not a big fan of most people I root for, I'm terribly sarcastic, and if I love you I might want you to fall on your ******* nose. It's a fifty-fifty split, or seventy to thirty. I'm a ravenous cannibal when I put words down to something tangible. I'm also late to work or early, and all my friends get my friends jobs right before we leave or get fired or get too poor to stay where we are. It's a horribly satisfying way to live but a ******** way to want to die. I'm a coward and a liar with great hygiene, I liken myself akin to the noble cockroach, because I'm a nuclear survivor! And the post-apocalypse started right after Hiroshima, and now they watch or **** everyone, and people police people. If you can't afford the rent stay with strangers or starve to death on the streets while middle class lunatics watch you evaporate "rationally" as bystanders in a new world war. It's not even a subtle genocide.
0
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 6:46 PM UTC
austin-heath
"Everybody's Unemployed."
You stopped responding at my second jesus **** joke, but I didn't care, and I was the one at work. Aces. Even vacation is stressful for you, although I'll admit my humor isn't great, but amongst friends I'm hysterical. I only have about a handful, and they're all ******* weird as me except for a couple or several. I'm not a big fan of most people I root for, I'm terribly sarcastic, and if I love you I might want you to fall on your ******* nose. It's a fifty-fifty split, or seventy to thirty. I'm a ravenous cannibal when I put words down to something tangible. I'm also late to work or early, and all my friends get my friends jobs right before we leave or get fired or get too poor to stay where we are. It's a horribly satisfying way to live but a ******** way to want to die. I'm a coward and a liar with great hygiene, I liken myself akin to the noble cockroach, because I'm a nuclear survivor! And the post-apocalypse started right after Hiroshima, and now they watch or **** everyone, and people police people. If you can't afford the rent stay with strangers or starve to death on the streets while middle class lunatics watch you evaporate "rationally" as bystanders in a new world war. It's not even a subtle genocide.
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34
A toast! let's celebrate! It's time to commemorate As I demonstrate And iterate ********* friends that I'd love to hate Those ******* ****** With their bags full of tricks They throw stones and sticks Like ******* lunatics They're bullies on steroids What to expect? Break my bones, calls me names With no signs or ounce of respect **** them and their memes **** them by all means **** them those merciless machines And **** them in between So let's toast! let's celebrate! For this poem that I create A tribute has been made To my ********* friends I love to hate
0
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 12:06 PM UTC
Peanut
********* Friends
A toast! let's celebrate! It's time to commemorate As I demonstrate And iterate ********* friends that I'd love to hate Those ******* ****** With their bags full of tricks They throw stones and sticks Like ******* lunatics They're bullies on steroids What to expect? Break my bones, calls me names With no signs or ounce of respect **** them and their memes **** them by all means **** them those merciless machines And **** them in between So let's toast! let's celebrate! For this poem that I create A tribute has been made To my ********* friends I love to hate
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25
Spurred on by scarecrow's chemical coercions convicts and sick souls spill out into the streets To slice dice cook and eat An orange jumpsuit army, a crushing orange wave consumes The neighborhoods and avenues Chaos is constant Carnage is complete No single hero can quell a wave of madmen well acquainted with violence Like an avalanche of razors, and ambulance sirens Wielding improvised blood letters And bone snappers Citizens scream and flee Consumed by the visions Contained in the cloud of fear It is clear it is going to be a wild time in old Gotham tonight.
0
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 3:27 PM UTC
saul-makabim
The Lunatics Take To The Streets
Spurred on by scarecrow's chemical coercions convicts and sick souls spill out into the streets To slice dice cook and eat An orange jumpsuit army, a crushing orange wave consumes The neighborhoods and avenues Chaos is constant Carnage is complete No single hero can quell a wave of madmen well acquainted with violence Like an avalanche of razors, and ambulance sirens Wielding improvised blood letters And bone snappers Citizens scream and flee Consumed by the visions Contained in the cloud of fear It is clear it is going to be a wild time in old Gotham tonight.
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22
Hey, wouldn't it be lovely If we could set down our books And sing to the sky Like lunatics in the early dawn I'm seventeen and I still can't talk You forgot how to walk And scraped your knee on the blacktop I need a haircut; Something simple that would leave it Short on the sides and longer on the top So I could style it back and realize my Mirror-driven destiny Hey, wouldn't it be great If we could walk away and never look back Like you knew how to walk And I could still talk
0
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 12:23 AM UTC
mnkbrs
I Need a Haircut
Hey, wouldn't it be lovely If we could set down our books And sing to the sky Like lunatics in the early dawn I'm seventeen and I still can't talk You forgot how to walk And scraped your knee on the blacktop I need a haircut; Something simple that would leave it Short on the sides and longer on the top So I could style it back and realize my Mirror-driven destiny Hey, wouldn't it be great If we could walk away and never look back Like you knew how to walk And I could still talk
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16
Why is it that, a cuckoo Is locked up in a clock While lunatics with guns Are left, to run amuck WIZDUMBs BY JA 221
0
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 10:38 AM UTC
BoemsByJa
CUCKOO
Why is it that, a cuckoo Is locked up in a clock While lunatics with guns Are left, to run amuck WIZDUMBs BY JA 221
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5
Purkyně lux lit lunatics conjure vignettes of geomancy. There is mischief enchanting the wake: xenophagists fiending tricks. For invokers, who bathe in moonlight, death is a good nights sleep.
0
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
omar-kawash
Sijo: The Night is Enticing
Purkyně lux lit lunatics conjure vignettes of geomancy. There is mischief enchanting the wake: xenophagists fiending tricks. For invokers, who bathe in moonlight, death is a good nights sleep.
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3