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Carlo C Gomez Nov 2022
~
Daydreams
in passing with the clouds,
and their weary structure,
and their idle loneliness,
and their struggle for tomorrow.

You and me and the image of an immense tree; satellites hanging from its branches like minacious ornaments; sending frightful messages to far out places; convincing us television is real but our lives are fake.

Nightmares
in passing with the shadows,
and their elusive silhouette,
and their active aggression,
and their march for tomorrow.

You and me and the image of a school bus sliding down into the ice...
~
Francis Sep 2016
It all starts with a kiss on the forehead from the devil.
A curse so deadly that The Grim Reaper would fear for his life.
Togetherness is a lost cause for sanity and my mind.
One of them, if not both, has been absent.

I've killed many and many before.
Homicidal cravings have polluted my veins.
Empathy has fled the scene of this heinous crime inside my head,
As the voices so gracefully moved in.

Frequent scenarios are projected in my dreams,
Like some spooky yet ****** film.
Two vampiric women kiss so maliciously,
As their lips are painted with blood.
This vision makes ****** *******.

The blood flow has not yet been drained from my vision,
As it stains the cotton of my memory.
Remorseful thoughts convert to an addiction.
I need to accommodate another fix, before my inevitable conviction.

I've once felt the feelings of the peaceful,
But reality has stolen my conscience.
A lovely soul transformed to atrocity .
This lantern gained a shortage of oil,
causing me to become lost in a field of misery and pain.

Minacious laughs frolic in my ears,
Though these giggles I'm quite familiar with.
I heard them often, so joyful and so free.
But now they've turned to evil.

An inability to move my hands when desired,
Caused by attire not aimed for warmth.
I'm a prisoner blocked by a wall of darkness,
So deliberately detaining my sanity.

I have loved a time, so long ago,
Where happiness was my most valued acquaintance.
Yet something inside of me awoken so suddenly,
Shamelessly demolishing any remote heart I once possessed.

Possession is such a polite word to use,
describing demonic forces taking ownership of your soul.
But I consider it a blessing in disguise,
Due to the unescapable fact that who I was could not be an acception,
To those who hold superiority over me.

A monster I was?
Or A monster I have became.
It would never be determined by the others.
All they fathom is that a monster is contained,
And lives will no longer be stolen by the guilty hands of this monster.

But what gives human life it's worth?
I will forever ponder that thought.
For I am the star of this so called Hell,
And where I'll be when my time has come,
No sane human would dwell.
I've always wanted to write something through the perspective of a maniac without glamorizing the act of taking a human life. This person is of course fictional, but I'm sure you could probably look up real killers who've spoken this way before their deaths.
Slur pee Feb 2018
Why are others mouths inclined to draw the pictures I try to scribble out that form inside my mind?
A worthless, spineless creature- almost serpentine, wriggling on its belly baring cyanic, lachrymal eyes.
I want to squirm from this Stygian tomb, disenthrall my thoughts from the shadows swimming with me
inside this amniotic pool. I'm just a worthless fetus, a crumbling parasite and perhaps it becomes more
obvious when I try to keep it out of sight, like a stench you try to hide; Dulcify decomposition with a rain
of fragrant petals and slowly you'll come to find that magnolias smell of death, I can taste it
slightly on my breath and it whets their appetite, the demons that stink of ammonia that gather every
night orchestrating their symposia, their bellies full of laughter and drink while I'm full of minacious,
eternal thoughts that writhe through plumbless wrinkles and ichor, questioning motivation and what it  
is I fight for. I can never find the right answers... My tongue won't grasp the words, they just slip back into
their couthy throat where they can't be ignored; Left to die upon the shore, as fuscous waves that stain  
sand with rejection crash against my shattered form. My hands crack trying to flip the hourglass back  
and my eyes are constantly attacked by depression's thalassic pulchritude, a multitude of pains swaying
to and fro in veins, begging for escape but trying to stay encased. Life nulls and denudes, my aptitude  
for feeling- my natural ability to hold things close without unreeling heartstrings. Keep reading, there'll
be no eucatastrophe just endless pages of pointless animosity and tragedies accompanied by laugh  
tracks, everyone loves a jester with a proper act and I act a proper klutz futzing around with letters and  
spelling, trying to ensorcell any being to find my misery compelling.  

-SLuR
43missingcookies Jul 2015
i found my knife at the bottom of the mushroom jar where truth, boiled from the muck of an oak slavish of fancy columns, unjustified from the stains of a cold yellow sweat. i have become the primal suspect of an eminent probability among the universal system, taking life for death as trade among souls. i am the ******* monster, beast without beauty, a freak in consistent argument with minacious entities that surround my physical being. blood, sweat, tears- we lose.
i am the other side of an identifiable simple yet bold split personae. like the story of two hungry dogs, always at our necks feeding one or the other. i am at war with the dominance of darkness. i am losing this fight, fading into an underworld of mischievous children. i am losing
Jenish Jan 2020
Long long ago in a lonely lovely hill
When earth was young, handsome and green
Besides the meadow near the curly winding flow
There stood a tree proudly high and spry.

Swaying and dancing in wheezy pleasy breeze
Never was he still, always in a swing.
Not even a speck, not a little flea
Never allowed any, sitting in his spray.

Winder came to hinder, pouring all her snow
Our tree kept fighting, throwing all his snow.
Jutting high he stood, leafy and green
In the midst of an ocean of falling snowy flakes.

Two little sparrows, flying from the north
Searching for a shade in that minacious wind.
Saw the mighty tree, swiftly they descent
Nestled in his branches to save their little lives.

Before they could settle, hurled to the ground
Without any mercy, our dancing prancing tree.
Again they tried, again thrown to ground
Again and again, bereft of any kindness.

Tired and puffing that little sparrow mother
Sprawled on his feet fighting for her breath.
Two tiny pearls rolled from her eyes
Smelted on his foot with her warmth and pain.

Dazed and watching, the mighty tree stood
Feeling all the pain the little creature bear.
Heavy at his heart, Heavy was his branches
Forlorn and silent, melting hefty heart.

The feathery teeny couple, eyed the tree quiet
Perched on his branches, prudent and happy.
Later on that day, picking twigs and leaves
Weaving with care, they made their winsome nest.

The dotish dancing tree, spying all their actions
Tussled with tempest, stayed there without motion.
Not a single leaf, not a petty branch
Not even a sigh, he uttered without care.

The pair of lovely birds, huddled in their home
Shared lovely blankets, spreading wings and feathers.
Peeping through his leaves and crimson little branches
He watched the birds slept, with a sense of love.
  
Teeming deep-felt care, bearing flakes and fall
Proud dancing tree, stood there rapt and frozen.
Winter slowly left and the spring was yet to come
The tiny sparrow mother, laid three wonder eggs.

Hugged and rolled in love, day and night in hurry
Feeble tweets and cry, woke the vigilant tree.
Weeny songs of love, doting brush of quills
Tiny goofy beaks, jutted from the nest.

Like a foster father, our tree stood blessed and chilled
Wished to rock and spin, but moved not in the least.
Time kept flying away, spring came dazzling in
Pretty little chicks, learned to flutter and dance.

Rapture spilled around, florets blossomed out
Covered nacarat flowers, stood he shy and blushed.
Chasing flies and bees, singing songs of love
They float around their grandpa, lovely wonder kids.

Swinging salmon fruits, he fed the little birds
Bowing head and pride, with a dancing heart.
The naughty sparrow chicks, poohed on his branches
But the mighty tree, never mind their doodles.

As the wings got stronger, they soared high and far
On the vicinal lands and to the distant shores
Sailing wonder worlds, flying with their dreams
But never forgot to return, for a goodnight sleep.

On to the cerulean sky, not any farewell words
The happy little family, one day flown and gone.
Watching day and night, our doomed dancing tree
Waited for their return, dreadful and as dead.

Sun shed all his splendors to wake and make him happy
Dismal clouds cried, drenching him in showers.
Winter came and poured, covered him in snow
The dancing tree never moved not a single leaf.

From distant snowy clouds chirping sounds he heard
Woken from his slumber, shaking all his snow.
In wheezy pleasy breeze, swayed and danced in glee
Waited for the couple and one more tale of love.
Jenish Aug 2020
From a distant village, where forest lining the edges, where nature dancing with wild rhythms, where human existence have usual conflicts with minacious wild life, I bought an unparagoned cow.
superbious gait
she glimmered in bright spotlight -
wild domestic breed

In that romantic night, where moon shy to pop out from behind the murky clouds, the queen in the cowshed spend her first night with the howling songs of dogs.
croaking frog's sonnets
blended with loud fearful barks -
greeted the new guest

As the symphony of greetings continued the night and the night after, I was puzzled and forced to look around to meet a vacant sky and under it the haunting darkness.
predawn darkness stood
a veil to my eyes hiding
mysteries of night

Unable to squirrel the burden of anxieties of my quizzical mind, I decided to stay awake to watch the cowshed and my cow under a splendid moonlit night.
mask of truth divulge
laurels stirred in fiery force -
a fine leopard leaped

My abstentious legs dragged back the fleeing heart, and I was rooted trembling as a pole left alone in a cyclone eye.
watchful twinkling eyes
stem the course to silent cow -
fearless mother licked

Astonished to saw the nonchalant cow, licking the beast same her calf, I decided to rend the skies for the jewels of truth behind this precious spectacle of love.
beast lost his wildness
under legs of licking cow -
Leopard lied there low

I took an assiduous journey back to her previous owner with the imagery of a leopard cherished by their benign cow, where I was welcomed by the most baffling story of motherhood.
the truth rushed at last
shivered reminiscence –
fed curious mind

Once a female Leopard lost her way to the erf of human dominance and suffered a pitiful end in their retiform, but before she touched the sacred stream of serenity, a baby was born to the hands of her pursuer.
crying cub was fetched
from dying womb to the barn -
cow turned loving mam

Until the baby Leopard transformed to riotous youth, the halcyon mother cow fed him directly from his teats of love and then one day he was transferred to a faraway forest as an avowal of the law of land.
objections obliged
mother and her son parted -
but distance was dim

Hither to, on every darkest hours of silent nights, the different son visited her foster mother to share his adventures in the distant wild and to cherish the beauty of motherly love and it continues even the mother was transported to another house as the uncouth son followed her to her new abode.
trembled with pleasure
flower of truth opened soft -
fine fragrance of love
Slur pee Jul 2018
The fuse is lit, wrapped against your wrists
Prisoner of freedom, prisoner of ****.
Grip dissident fists, slip, and miss the government.
An insignificant kiss across unfeeling skin,
Desensitized to the reeling of our unified minds
The serpent, the centipede that dually writhe inside,
Left and right, tickling spite to erupt in minacious laughter
As the herd move along our prayers slither into the slaughter.
Plastered proclamations and pinned ignorance:
“I voted for a puppet” but who’s the ventriloquist?

-SLuR

— The End —