"monolouge" poems
When the first words out of his mouth was
"Sup *****
I knew a certain few things
1. He was not getting laid tonight.
2. None of us in this room know why he's the party leader,
All glancing at each other in awe
nodding like a hive mind chanting
yes, this man is in fact an *******
no, i don't know how he rose to power
yes, he did just call us *****
3. I could think of a million one liners that would earn me way more respect up front than that.
I don't know what I was expecting
walking into this basement
Maybe some small fame
The same small fame I get from getting on a stage for slam poetry
or being cast in a reality T.v. show
Or singing kareoke at my local bar.
Maybe for the free pizza
We've all been there.
And yes, maybe it was for the revenge.
the campaign slogan you stamped
recruitment posters with.
Join the evil league of evil!
Launch revenge against the modern heroes of today!
But when I sit down in this small fold up metal lawn chair,
in what is presumably his moms basement
Behind a projecter (also probablly his moms)
Next to captain nose bleed
And princess ********
I already don't have a whole lot of faith in his agenda
So when his opening line
Was "Sup *****
Like that is some sort of impressive villanous monolouge peared down into one and a half words.
I lost any ounce of faith I had in this cult.
And decided to Usurp this "Party Leader".
Now you might be asking:
Why?
Why would you want to be the head of the evil league of evil?
Founded in this pre pubescent boys moms basement
Whos only followers so far seem to be captain nosebleed,
and princess ********
Well
clearly
You don't understand.
Captain nosebleed is already under the thumb of princess ********
I mean lets be real without princess ********
We're three dudes in a basement
Pretending to be super villans.
And you've been known to be pretty charming.
But in your friends evil lair.
Sorry
Moms basement.
You start to evaluate your situation
Gotta make a descision.
Are you fighting for Revenge,
or the small fame?
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
it's always been a stupid dream, hasn't it?
i can't help but find myself thinking about that day, if i could've possibly changed anything.
who would i be on this day, if none of this ever happened?
would i know suffering, would i even have scars? or what if you two never separated, that our family remained pure and whole?
maybe things were meant to happen for a reason but, what was the reason?
everyday is a constant battle between my heart and my head and i can't seem to escape from the demons taking refugee inside of me.
i am constantly searching for the way out but always end up short as they grab me and hush my lips so i can't scream.
they whisper that i cannot leave, that i am nothing more than a mere palette waiting to shed red.
they create a giant void that can never be filled and they tear down the walls that i have sheltered myself in.
i scream but nothing seems to come out;
what is wrong with me? who am i really? everyone says it's only temporary, that i have to wait it out and it'll all be over soon.
it won't, will it? who will i turn into?
will i seek out the revenge i deserve to inflict on you for keeping me hostage here, or be compassionate and **** you with kindness?
stop searching hell for demons
they've been inside you all along.
a.c.
Jan 8, 2014
Jan 8, 2014 at 2:03 AM UTC
I woke up and wrote your letter
The Morning sun wash shining
After a long rainy night
I spent it trying to understand
How I am supposed to float
How the trees are supposed to wrap and squeeze
The raven on his branch
****** harm of the moon
White light through forest seeps
Forget the meaning of a moment
Pressing on the tile
How your skin was warm
And your hands alright
Fire burned from Hades that day
And the claws of demons reached up
To scratch my screams
Your parables are a common monolouge
******* in my brain
Revalations and Galatians, Ezekial, Jeremiah
John the APOSTLE to christ
Was exiled to the island Patmos
A bullet would put my brain on ice
Character Speech of Naked demons
Pouring Fire onto the world
to ash
to ash
to ash
The seven seals
Breath the ash in and out
Standing strong footed in the Millenium
Where he rules again
With an iron rod
Despair
Rebellion Screams in the blood of your young heart
A spray of ****** violence against a creator of lust
and love
and pain
and ash
The prince of peace
Whose blood anointed the sins of the childerens childrens children
Speeding up to heaven on winged steeds
Let your words pierce my armor
Unto my very bones
It is better than this pain I feel
Your own annointed son
Bleeding on an alter
Incense swirling this
I wish the mounains
Would fall upon me
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 10:56 PM UTC
I cant shake the idea though,
of us in that water,
like the goo of spacetime and the universe,
beings of energy interrupting the mathematical perfection,
agents of entropy manipulating matter and creating ripples that travel for miles and miles tweaking strings in time that may yet unravel to chaos
Sep 10, 2016
Sep 10, 2016 at 2:08 PM UTC