"malevolently" poems
elephants stomp with stone-laden feet
back and forth, back and forth,
creating cracks in my already-battered skull,
weakening the very foundations of my sanity.
their trumpeting echoes through cold corridors
flooding my thought capacity to the brim.
a tightrope walker stretches me, thin -
i feel the shifting pressure of her nimble feet
treading the territories of my weathered frame,
back and forth, back and forth,
my skin reddens beneath the incessant crossing
as the sinew within me starts to atrophy.
in my chest cavity there is a ring of fire,
manipulating my lungs and feeble heart to mere ash.
two golden eyes seen beyond the flames,
ready to leap through them - without the
inconvenience of fear weighing down his agile paws,
both capable and likely to tear my veins to shreds.
a grisly strongman has my bones in his grip.
he smiles malevolently, gloating his strength over me,
squeezing the life from my cartilage - awaiting the snap.
i am cognizant of the sound, but i won't flinch.
next, the imminent collapse of my vertebrae -
i feel them crumble to dust. he laughs.
but it is in the pit of my stomach the ringleader sits -
commanding me into subsidence with every crack of his whip.
i want to meet his eyes but he only averts my gaze.
his twisted circus nearly through, the audience begins to dissipate.
i stare through the blurred smoke, desperate for his visage -
when i see on one of his faded lapels, the embroidery spells out your name.
-m.f.
Oct 1, 2013
Oct 1, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
The Art of Subconscious Illusion is an elusive tendency towards the averse,
or rather,
the act of lying to oneself
Oft times you’ll find yourself wondering how...
…how you lost her…how you lost love…
how you lost yourself
Your mind a jumble of
spiral static,
coils of confusion, twisting malevolently,
failing and falling,
flawed and faulty,
feeble and fading,
you slowly begin to yearn for a second chance,
wish that you had performed more charmingly in the blistering tragedy of feelings lost...
but there are few second chances in the misfortunes of life.
the damage is done, and now you must live with the consequences
of a dying will to persist in this journey,
the ups
the downs
the laughter
the pain
after endless days of convincing yourself you’re not to blame you finally see it for what it is...
You made the choice
you made your bed, and now you must lie in it…
and as you slowly make your way towards the reclining slope of the soft satin covers you’ll begin to see….
it was not a bed your actions relayed....
....it was a coffin
Jun 22, 2017
Jun 22, 2017 at 8:51 PM UTC
I watch the candle burning
The flame flickering
Pushing my hand into its midst
I feel the curious strength of something
That doesn't quite seem to exist
Evanescing, casting shapeless silhouettes
So powerful
It deteriorates that which surrounds it
Simultaneously essential
And malevolently destructive
I like to feel the heat of the wax
Dripping on my finger tips
As I grip it tightly
Pain is only a byproduct of sensitivity
Of which we can never have
In too small a quantity
I'd rather feel the pain
Watching the beads roll down my arm
Than lose that strength
In compartmentalizing
And someday you'll find me
Not burnt, not melted, but
Dancing like a shadow on the wall
Mar 3, 2010
Mar 3, 2010 at 3:07 PM UTC
You were an angel, so I burned
Your wings to the ground.
I turned you into something ugly,
Something I could relate into my self.
I scarred you because your flesh was bare.
I carved my initials in your soul;
So you'd never forget my destruction.
I didn't want someone so beautiful to exist.
I couldn't have loved someone so pure,
No one so flawless could have ever loved me.
You had to become damaged…
Because I was too broken for the both of us.
I wish I had left you beautiful though...
Left you with that glimmer in your eyes
The light I snuffed out
To test the limits of love.
I wish I had trusted
that the demons would be ugly
That an angle set ablaze
Would twist a soul malevolently
To ashes we will burn now,
Watching each other fall to pieces.
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 6:45 AM UTC
When the evening finds me weeping
underneath the curled umbrella of a tree
and the Moon looks down on me as if malevolently
and the stars up there refuse to shine
when what was mine is no longer mine
and time fades into shades of grey,
I shall look forward onto a day
where all evenings fade
and I shall sit with a glass of tawny port
caught
between the joy of this and
the kiss that life had given me.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 5:03 PM UTC
Age old forests compressed
To thick primeval ooze
Interred between layers
Of sediments fused
By time and tonnage
To hard papa rock
Concealing CRUDE OILS’
Subterranean shock.
Shocking in value
Escalating with time,
Shocking in politics
Which equates to a crime,
Implications shocking
When you stop to see
That resource limitations
Have diminished quickly.
Consider the clout
When a fast world of cars
Without hydrocarbons
Would seize up like stars,
Stars, in the sense
Of their immovable grace,
For a fuel less planet
Would IMMOBILIZE this place.
Abrupt immobility
To bring chaos and mess
And the utter lost beauty
Of a girl in a dress,
And the time and space
To smell a good rose
Instead brittle chaos
Malevolently posed.
Bleak desolation
Of the world we hold dear
And a massive regression
To impoverished fear.
Marshalg
Looking thru the hour glass
4 July 2011
Only way to deliver this poem is SLAM and with vehemence!!
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC
Ms. Miss Me
Messes with the mess
Of Me
Messianic Masonic Messiah
Making mountainous modules
Manufactured from the make-shift
Makings of my soul
Which lifts me
Higher than before
It’s
Mysterious mysticallity
How you made me
After you met me
The misogynistic misogamist misfit
Meets Ms. Perfect
You misled me
You knew I didn’t want to fall in love
I mistreated you
And now
I miss seeing you
Mr. Missed Her
Mistakenly misunderstood
Her magic
For a trick
My mania must mean
I’m
Malevolently maiming my mind
Never mind me
NO!
Forever mind me
You’re forever mine
Even if only in the mind
My metal moccasins
Stump through
The mine field
On my quest to find you
Again
Constant explosions
Milling
A million
M-80’s to make
A metaphor
Of the fire within
The fireworks
I mean
Hopefully the fire works
I destroyed your
Mint commission
I meant condition
Your mint condition
Was devalued
From my mixed intentions
And messages
Monotonous tasks
To get you back
I get your back
And stay forever
In your past
Empty
M.T.
Mt. Empty
You built me
Just to leave me
Empty
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 8:23 PM UTC
The special subtleness
that you use to bite your lip
is cunning.
And when your white,
soldier teeth,
come looming from between your gums
your subtlety is lost
rashly breaking the surface
so to speak
malevolently, or violently, or rather vehemently,
sexually, and lustfully
aimed down wind,
in my direction.
Jun 19, 2013
Jun 19, 2013 at 10:39 PM UTC
We as humans define our fears by that which we can’t control. Those things that stand just outside our physical grip but lay within the range of our persuasive comprehension. For control translates to security in whatever realm of life we seek, and many hold to that security as a lifeline for social and personal survival. The same survival techniques that have dictated our every move since the dawning of our time, but now finds reformed salvation in the egocentric world that we humans have so maliciously conquered. And though the means by which control is obtained changes from era to era, the quest for it still holds the same aggression and ferocity by which we have pursue it since before mans evolution. Holding complete disregard to everything in our path if only for the pursuit of this so called happiness. Perpetuated happiness that has been malevolently twisted and manufactured to fit the fantasies of those who deem it worthy. Regardless of the overt subconscious damage being done to those who adopt these practices. Regardless of our fellow man who gets forgotten and dismembered in the dust. Regardless of the destruction that is then committed upon the earth itself. All in the name of perceived happiness and an unwillingness to accept change into our lives. And though this phobia of what we cant control dictates the steps we take and mistakes we make, there is still hope. Hope for free thought and disconnect from the need of control. An acceptance of a blind destiny. Not a destiny for those unwilling to take the reins of life and influence it as they see fit, but rather one who understands that the reins are not theirs to control. And though control might be had from time to time, there is the awareness that it is fleeting. That it is always in flux and though the heavens might smile in your favor today, tomorrow they might turn their back to you all together. So rather then embracing that which we can control and discarding that which we cant, shouldn’t we be accepting that by which we cant control and forgiving ourselves for clinging onto the momentary continuity within our lives that is control? Or are we doomed to always put out mental, physical, and spiritual wellbeing on the line in order to obtain that transitory sedative that quells our animalistic needs?
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
I put down my pen, my creature is finished,
It has come to life before my eyes,
Its metaphors swing restlessly,
Its similes gaze malevolently,
It moans heavily, awake from its slumber,
I am shocked and appalled and flee,
I fear the thought of it loose on the world,
Wretched creature formed from my evils,
I put it out of its misery,
Realising it could not survive the onslaught of man,
Now it rests in the ashes of my fireplace.
Nov 20, 2011
Nov 20, 2011 at 9:36 PM UTC
Now I awake at the eve of my daemonic existence
Which we had to abort
On my crown lies a crown of barbs
Unfortunately no light
Raising my forgiving sight for the last time
The only thing I see is my dark wright
Vomiting misconception at my filthy sins
United by serpentine despair
Unanimously designed by a rogue contempt
And yet instantaneously
For temerarious to bother with such vast wisdom
And yet veracious
**Thus destined a dark decent
A blackened spiral
For a blank memory
I look as the darkness consumes my every breathe
Already swallowed by the hatred smoked by fear
I feel the hell fire
Like tears rolling down my body
I am cut chest to toe
The shadows seep in
Vile filth exalting heavenly pleasures
I can not cleanse myself
For all of the scourges I locked away
My shadow is liberated
As it goes, as it always shall
The quasi heroic act of self mutilation
Reanimates their dark possession
Again morbid licentiousness
They found their host and reached parasitical intent
Blackened by serious lust
Tumultuous in the hearts of all who have fallen
All of their jaws hinging malevolently
For the cursing how to behave
No imminence in my decay
I deserve nothing by curdling laughter
I have no cause, no war
My skin blackened by the fires of doubt
Forget my neurotic existence
And the face of the man you fear
For the last time I scream
All of my attempts hallowed
By the fear of being isolated
Abandoned, my scars still leaking
The blackened blood into the heavens
Each drop a life wasted
During this my light is extinguished
A smile appears on a split face**
One final scream
And everything I know vanishes
Somewhere a heart beats a final time
I despise my world
I wasn't created for it
Alas...
Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 2:13 AM UTC
By the river I meandered
Where oily-black water runs silent.
Malevolently, it tears at the eroding bank
And dares me to walk more closely.
Under a twisted oak I ducked
Past ancient bark and sinewy branches.
Patiently, it awaits one who ducks not so low,
And harbours a dark enmity in the long shadows.
Around a silent bog I navigated
Mud occasionally ******* at my shoes.
Gurgling, it pulls lethargically at passing limbs,
And begs for a new visitor its fermented depths.
Dec 1, 2013
Dec 1, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
CCP Turtles Grassing Line
China’s virtual hotline
Report online remarks
Slander Communist Party history
Crack down “bygone nihilists”
Party’s 100th centenary July
Grass line allows society report
Netizens “twist” Party’s history
Attack governance policies
Denigrate national heroes
Deny superiority radical socialist nation
Clandestine motivations old nihilistic parodies
Malevolently garbling
Denigrating contradicting Party history
Internet operatives administering people
Devotedly report dangerous info
“Historical nothingness” public doubt distrust
Chinese Communist Party’s earlier dealings
China’s net forcefully censored
Overseas social media networks
Search engines news outlets forbidden
Penances persons conveyed
Netizens prison lawful punishments
Placement content acute
Nation’s leadership procedures antiquity
Legal amendments folks
“Slur smear invade on” memorial
China’s national heroes’ martyrs
Face three years gaol
Apr 11, 2021
Apr 11, 2021 at 4:22 PM UTC
Can we feel a fearful nausea as we sense the
gate to the pit of hell gently open & two blazing
red eyes gleam oh so malevolently as they gaze
out into the world for fresh victims,
but of course ...
Can we feel a hatred a deep that it seems out of all
proportion but actually when we ponder it at night
& see parades of washed-up, drowned, sodden
refugee children littering sandy shores,
but of course ...
Can we feel a loathing so profound when we realize
that what he's doing is really with all this is filling
his own coffers with mounds of gold while grinning
so awfully at the suckers he makes of us all,
but of course ...
Can we feel an anger so encompassing that at times
it seems to consume us in its vast inescapable darkness
as we see the old folks hunger, the sick get sicker, the
weak get weaker,
but of course ...
Can we desire some sort of cathartic & ****** revolution
where heads site agape & vacant on spikes & sweet sisters
of the revolution storm ramparts & free prisoners & then
round up their own amongst the swelling bloated rich
& the eternal enemies of the people,
but of course ...
Can we feel o.k. with these thoughts, these fantasies born
of an acute & abiding knowledge of how awful these times
are & promise to be & embrace them & shout them from
the rooftops & declare in all honesty,
******* you & swift be the justice, amen.
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 11:10 PM UTC
Writing this, in inflammatory sinuous paths,
Maybe, me, I am too ambitious.
Knowledge and awareness are vagues,
Perhaps better called illusions...
Even the strongest of opponents,
Always have blind spots...
But only a blind person can spot those weaknesses.
Is it foolishness to fear what we have been told,
Yet to see, possess and know it?
People never understand the chosen ways
Of perspective persevering life forms.
The ways of uplifting felonious,
I have seeing them malicious fiends,
They considering themselves as idols.
They all took some sacrifices,
Just to get in such positions...
Maybe them, they too religious.
Non-know about our sleepless nights...
There those who do not know no better ways,
They get cold and turn to be nousless.
Safety comes to whoever knows of righteousness...
These corners contain all types of predicaments,
That combine with our treacherous nights,
Into be some sort of amorphous,
Like somebody chose us.
Weeks back I had nightmares,
Stack with fiends in them trenches,
Sinking in them trenches,
Stretching for my dreams,
While dreams are said to be thoughts,
I dare you to think about pandemoniums.
Malevolently they want to see me breathless,
Inevitable for it to occur in any case or cases,
Or to contemporaneous in my dreams...
Solitary thoughts made me piously bias,
With all the words and papers I am pathos,
It is golden, whether it is speech or speechless,
Action acts with expression louder than words,
But words are stronger and meaningful than any type of action, acted,with any type of expressions,
Said in strangest terms..
Apr 27, 2017
Apr 27, 2017 at 7:07 AM UTC
It's funny how how the wind with words so eloquently spoken
Speaks only of how you are malevolently broken...
Feb 7, 2019
Feb 7, 2019 at 7:20 AM UTC
Although you never spoke a word,
It was just a conversation I overheard,
Just like a flame that was about to go out,
the words that came through the wall felt like a blackout.
All you left behind was an empty shell.
Left with all our memories without a farewell.
Just like the box we buried, you seem to have hurried.
We could’ve done so many more,
But here you are no more.
As the rain hit me and the ground by thunder.
The stone stood malevolently snickering at me as if it was reminding me that you were now 6 feet under.
My only wish is for your peace, as I rest a flower by the stone only wishing that you’re now at ease.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 3:27 PM UTC