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"monstrous" poems
here is little Effie’s head whose brains are made of gingerbread when the judgment day comes God will find six crumbs stooping by the coffinlid waiting for something to rise as the other somethings did— you imagine His surprise bellowing through the general noise Where is Effie who was dead? —to God in a tiny voice, i am may the first crumb said whereupon its fellow five crumbs chuckled as if they were alive and number two took up the song, might i’m called and did no wrong cried the third crumb,i am should and this is my little sister could with our big brother who is would don’t punish us for we were good; and the last crumb with some shame whispered unto God,my name is must and with the others i’ve been Effie who isn’t alive just imagine it I say God amid a monstrous din watch your step and follow me stooping by Effie’s little, in (want a match or can you see?) which the six subjunctive crumbs twitch like mutilated thumbs: picture His peering biggest whey coloured face on which a frown puzzles, but I know the way— (nervously Whose eyes approve the blessed while His ears are crammed with the strenuous music of the innumerable capering ****** —staring wildly up and down the here we are now judgment day cross the threshold have no dread lift the sheet back in this way. here is little Effie’s head whose brains are made of gingerbread
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19.7k
Here Is Little Effie’s Head
*erstwhile a halcyon extant universe incessantly ceaseless cradled itself in hues of violet phosphorescence laced with cobalt shimmering stars perpetually whole it nonetheless sought to know itself encompassing all that is bubbling over in effervescent ebullience intertwined with indescribable catastrophic splendor it shattered into tens of millions of splinters of eloquent efflorescent light shining in the night each splinter heretofore imbued with sempiternal felicity began to conjure sumptuous dulcet elixirs furtively seeking out savory emollients to mollify the pique of separation plummeting they fell into monstrous competition seeking demesne they lost the purpose of gaining awareness and intelligent consciousness surreptitious estrangement overflowed deluging them in excruciating agony thus an epiphany was born the carving of the beleaguered fragments inked with tremendous pain created a transfiguration of splinters to crystals hence enlightenment commenced as the gems magnetized together constructing a world where omnipotence shines the ineffable beauty formed by the reintegration of crystals far exceeds the original as they dazzle with universal light bursting from diamonds etched in deep wisdom flooding the firmament with kaleidoscopic rainbow strobes cascading the sky ©2016janetaylor
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May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 1:23 PM UTC
crystals of light
I remember the history well: The soldiers and politicians emerged With briefcases and guns And celebrations on city nights. They scoured the mess Reviewed our history Saw the executions at dawn Then signed with secret policemen And decided something Had to be done. They scoured the mess Resurrected old blue-prints Of vicious times Tracked the shapes of sinking cities And learned at last That nothing can be avoided And so avoided everything. I remember the history well. 2 We emerged from our ******* mounds Discovered a view of the sky As the air danced in heat. Through the view of the city In flames, we rewound times Of executions at beaches. Salt streamed down our brows. Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections Monolithic accidents on hungry roads The infinite web of ethnic politics Power-dreams of fevered winds. The nation was a map stitched From the grabbing of future flesh And became a rush through Historical slime 3 We emerged on edge Of time future With bright fumes From burning towers. The fumes lit political rallies. We started a war Ended it And dreamed about our chance. Fat fish eat little fish Big ones arrange executions And armed robberies. Our ******* shapes us all. I remember the history well. The tiger’s snarl is bought In currencies of silence. Eggs grow large: A monstrous face is hatched. On the edge of time future I am a boy With running sores Of remember history Watching the stitches widen Waiting for the volcano’s laughter In the fevered winds Hearing the gnash Of those who will join us At the mighty gateways With new blue-prints With dew as seal And fire as constant And a trail through time past To us Who remember the history well. We weave words on red And sing on the edge of blue. And with our nerves primed We shall spin silk from ******* And frame time with our resolve. ________ Source: http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml
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17.4k
On Edge of Time Future
I remember the history well: The soldiers and politicians emerged With briefcases and guns And celebrations on city nights. They scoured the mess Reviewed our history Saw the executions at dawn Then signed with secret policemen And decided something Had to be done. They scoured the mess Resurrected old blue-prints Of vicious times Tracked the shapes of sinking cities And learned at last That nothing can be avoided And so avoided everything. I remember the history well. 2 We emerged from our ******* mounds Discovered a view of the sky As the air danced in heat. Through the view of the city In flames, we rewound times Of executions at beaches. Salt streamed down our brows. Everywhere stagger victims of rigged elections Monolithic accidents on hungry roads The infinite web of ethnic politics Power-dreams of fevered winds. The nation was a map stitched From the grabbing of future flesh And became a rush through Historical slime 3 We emerged on edge Of time future With bright fumes From burning towers. The fumes lit political rallies. We started a war Ended it And dreamed about our chance. Fat fish eat little fish Big ones arrange executions And armed robberies. Our ******* shapes us all. I remember the history well. The tiger’s snarl is bought In currencies of silence. Eggs grow large: A monstrous face is hatched. On the edge of time future I am a boy With running sores Of remember history Watching the stitches widen Waiting for the volcano’s laughter In the fevered winds Hearing the gnash Of those who will join us At the mighty gateways With new blue-prints With dew as seal And fire as constant And a trail through time past To us Who remember the history well. We weave words on red And sing on the edge of blue. And with our nerves primed We shall spin silk from ******* And frame time with our resolve. ________ Source: http://www.universeofpoetry.org/nigeria.shtml
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Babels of blocks to the high heavens towering Flames of futility swirling below; Poisonous fungi in brick and stone flowering, Lanterns that shudder and death-lights that glow. Black monstrous bridges across oily rivers, Cobwebs of cable to nameless things spun; Catacomb deeps whose dank chaos delivers Streams of live foetor that rots in the sun. Colour and splendour, disease and decaying, Shrieking and ringing and crawling insane, Rabbles exotic to stranger-gods praying, Jumbles of odour that stifle the brain. Legions of cats from the alleys nocturnal. Howling and lean in the glare of the moon, Screaming the future with mouthings infernal, Yelling the Garden of Pluto's red rune. Tall towers and pyramids ivy'd and crumbling, Bats that swoop low in the weed-cumber'd streets; Bleak Arkham bridges o'er rivers whose rumbling Joins with no voice as the thick horde retreats. Belfries that buckle against the moon totter, Caverns whose mouths are by mosses effac'd, And living to answer the wind and the water, Only the lean cats that howl in the wastes.
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The Cats
Fat fat but nobody knows Fat fat it doesn't really show Fat fat like nobody cares Fat fat baggy clothes she wears Fat fat but she's always cold Fat fat her excuses are old Fat fat she starts to cry Fat fat her monstrous thighs Fat fat say something nice Fat fat give some advice Fat fat just be kind Fat fat change her mind Fat fat?
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Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
FAT
I am the entourage Of a fantastic mirage I am the agent Of my mind's figment I am a believer Of mythical creatures I am a builder Of splendid architecture I am a drunkard Tripping on futures so absurd I plan construction Of my own destruction I am the feeder To dreams of grandeur I am a magician Of wild, potent concoctions I am a tycoon Of emotional typhoons I am an adept Skilled in exploiting concepts I am a parasite Brandishing fangs that bite I play host To a monstrous, hideous ghost I am an addict Of thoughts derelict I am the dreamer Incapable of anything lesser I am a diver Sinking deeper and deeper I am an insatiable thief Claiming trophies without grief I am an emotional hermit Hoarding my all in a bottomless pit I am a weaver Fabricating tales that meander I am a Neanderthal Adopting behaviours and habits that appall I am an ape Mending wounds that gape I am but me I'm blind, fighting to see I am rhymesmith I lie through my teeth Getting hard to breathe Heart to words, I seethe...
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Sep 21, 2014
Sep 21, 2014 at 7:28 AM UTC
Me
Lay my body rich with coins As my dawn turns to dusk I will depart Bless my soul to be reborn And pray I keep my heart Charon waits upon his boat To carry me to the Otherside I'll travel The River Styx And marry time, as I am Waiting's bride Bearded Ferryman of the dead Refuse me not as I pay your debt Tell Hades to lift the gates For fate and I have met Guide this monstrous beast Along the waters spine As we set off towards Afterlife Where waits the Underworlds divine
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Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 5:45 PM UTC
The River Styx
I  look at myself everyday in the mirror looking at my body intensely,looking for errors my teeth those monstrous pimples and those cheap glasses that hunch-back who am I? no,who is this? This body of self defeat? what is my worth ? what do my errors add up to? does it deduct my final value? Like a rusted guitar or a cheap  rag doll? So I look at the reflections of many mirrors I compare myself to them to the point of exhaustion some mirrors raised my value some didn't some lowered my value and some destroyed my value entirely at one point I broke my mirror because I finally realize that value didn't matter since all those mirrors came from the same thing
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Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 5:13 PM UTC
Human Value
I remember you from your beautiful smile your cinnamon scented hair your contagious laughter your nail-biting addiction your pointless insecurities to our silly inside jokes our dumb little fights our peculiar bets our goofy text messages through tears and smiles you were the only one who understood my unspoken words my concealed pain my unexpressed happiness my puzzled feelings counting your days we recalled our mischievous memories when we danced in the rain when we rang doorbells and ran away when we pranked the gullible ones when we stole Ikea pencils when we fangirled over stunning guys when we were together everything turn into excitements moments with you I remember them all, Grace it was a week before December twenty-fifth when the monstrous cells stopped your heart a glimpse of smile appeared upon your face as you're being taken far away from us skin turned pale body stiffened tears flooded my sight there were wailing across the room time flies like a bullet train without you it's a rainy day today you've always loved rainy days sinking my knees in the dew-wet grass raindrops whisper in my ears as I brush off the gray snow from your stone I still remember you, Grace I still do
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Nov 12, 2013
Nov 12, 2013 at 5:27 AM UTC
For My Grace
every single line on my body holds a memory i’m usually embarrassed the weird stares i get or the occasional questions from elders who don’t understand sometimes people will even joke about it or this one time a girl from my class told everyone i do it for attention and at one point it might have been for attention, because i wanted someone to notice, to save me from my anguish i always did have this obsession of being able to turn my mental pain into visible hurt now i simply try to put it into words and so when the sun comes out and the heat strokes start i try to cover them up but at one point it got too hard to hide and even though i’m better now, i’ll always be marked for life i’m branded by my nightmares but the monstrous marks tell a story i’m alive and i’m full of memories and even though most are bad, there’s a reason i’m here to show them
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Apr 5, 2024
Apr 5, 2024 at 2:26 AM UTC
my healed scars
*The dark sets in Her mind is calm, She sheds the skin Of social harm. Her heart beats slow Then picks up the pace, No longer below, Peculiar grace. A falling crown But safer now, A crippled heart, But not to drown. No more cries No tears of pain, Only joy And wild rain. She shuts her eyes And breaks away From all the lies, A diamond ray. No more burning In her soul, No more hurting, Lips unsewn. A beautiful aura Of dark and light, The night will fade Into the bright. Her heart lights up With ecstasy, Happy, although A tragic story. The true meaning Of being sad, Lips grinning, But not glad. A peek of sun rays Through the curtain, A blinding haze, A painful burden. She doesn't want The happy to end, But in the daylight She has to bend. Monstrous faces Without a smile, Hunger that chases Till the last dime. The day drags on, A hurting stab, Her life is a storm Without a God. No rainbow or sunshine In the light, But colours so vivid Through the night.*
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Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 11:42 AM UTC
Ecstasy
The almond pearls bounce on the leaves, Drip to drench me with the heavenly boon, What magical transformation the sky weaves, Its wands of clouds creating another monsoon! There's though a different spell on the ground Where water flows like a river in high tide, Silence broken only by a splashing sound Monstrous holes yawning on all side! You longed for it in the summer's pain Hallucinating in agony the coming of it You curse it now calling it a bane As it pours from above and deluge the street!
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Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC
Faces of Monsoon
They set off from white rocks, red geraniums, blue tile, and let the green sea lift and drop their ships far above the white foam waves. The stony islands that were home were swallowed in minutes by the hungry Atlantic but they hunted the big fish, the giant whales  with human eyes who rolled and sang and swam in oceans a continent away. They came from Sao Jorge, Sao Miguel Faial, Pico, Terceira, Horta - Nine island emeralds set in a black volcanic chain, neither of the old country nor the new: Halfway there and halfway gone - secret jewels of the Portuguese sailors. They sailed into unknown waters, south around tropical shores where dragons smoked and writhed on the rocks and birds with brilliant red and yellow plumage rose in clouds around their heads. Then north, and north, north again to colder waters where sea lions barked and lunged at the strange massive wooden beast that coursed the waters, strung with brown bodies swaying on the lines and cursing the sails. North still they swept casting contemptuous eyes on the cheap turquoise waters and monstrous slow turtles of the Sea of Cortez. Coming up from the desert, past the palms and the yucca, the Joshua tree and Spanish daggers, they chased their smooth grey prey, riding the vast Pacific on their wooden island, herding the leviathans onto their spears, adventurers with an audience of only gulls and sky and seal. Until they sailed too close one day to a rock-strewn shoreline and saw the golden hills. Gnarled oaks like grandmothers from home with orange poppy jewels at their feet, missions strung like beads in a ruby marked rosary. The boats slowed, ****** in by a Scylla of soil rich and brown and loamy waiting to be seeded with grapes and apricots peaches, avocados, lettuce, alfalfa, fertile and heavy with sweet promise. And the whales sang and the lions barked and the gulls cried but the sailors were entranced, encharmed, ensorcelled. The treacherous sea, the mysterious deep, the stony jewels of home, called and wept and waited in vain for the sailors   - beached and grounded - cutting not waves but earth, tracking seasons not whales, seduced by dirt.
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Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 9:51 PM UTC
San Joaquin Sailors
They set off from white rocks, red geraniums, blue tile, and let the green sea lift and drop their ships far above the white foam waves. The stony islands that were home were swallowed in minutes by the hungry Atlantic but they hunted the big fish, the giant whales  with human eyes who rolled and sang and swam in oceans a continent away. They came from Sao Jorge, Sao Miguel Faial, Pico, Terceira, Horta - Nine island emeralds set in a black volcanic chain, neither of the old country nor the new: Halfway there and halfway gone - secret jewels of the Portuguese sailors. They sailed into unknown waters, south around tropical shores where dragons smoked and writhed on the rocks and birds with brilliant red and yellow plumage rose in clouds around their heads. Then north, and north, north again to colder waters where sea lions barked and lunged at the strange massive wooden beast that coursed the waters, strung with brown bodies swaying on the lines and cursing the sails. North still they swept casting contemptuous eyes on the cheap turquoise waters and monstrous slow turtles of the Sea of Cortez. Coming up from the desert, past the palms and the yucca, the Joshua tree and Spanish daggers, they chased their smooth grey prey, riding the vast Pacific on their wooden island, herding the leviathans onto their spears, adventurers with an audience of only gulls and sky and seal. Until they sailed too close one day to a rock-strewn shoreline and saw the golden hills. Gnarled oaks like grandmothers from home with orange poppy jewels at their feet, missions strung like beads in a ruby marked rosary. The boats slowed, ****** in by a Scylla of soil rich and brown and loamy waiting to be seeded with grapes and apricots peaches, avocados, lettuce, alfalfa, fertile and heavy with sweet promise. And the whales sang and the lions barked and the gulls cried but the sailors were entranced, encharmed, ensorcelled. The treacherous sea, the mysterious deep, the stony jewels of home, called and wept and waited in vain for the sailors   - beached and grounded - cutting not waves but earth, tracking seasons not whales, seduced by dirt.
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59
Hurry now, it’s leaving soon Car door slams, gravel underfoot And from the boot Grandmas lil helper is lifted Oh! Where did it go? Wind twists scarf to snake Released from frames captivity I stoop and tug Under your foot, Gran She shuffles, Ties it firmly around tiny shoulders Bright colour against delicate skin Paper thin, both, One for beauty, one to hold the blood in And may it hold the blood in, Just a little longer... The train awaits, Monstrous, Steele stark against surrounding bush. Matt has a sausage, Mum bothers about tickets, Both fuss and fizzle, I press lips firmly together Deciding then and there Never to let entertainment turn to stress; It’s more than it’s worth. We’re to be in the engine room, The rest will be left behind - As something faulty. Matt lifts Gran up; She’s tiny, She’s flying, She’s in. And then we’re all in. Crammed. We stare longingly through grimy glass At empty carriages Can’t we be in there? It’s all a bit stuffy. There’s a fire along the track But we don’t go any further. The smoke streams out over forest. And jerking and bumping, Dipping along, We reverse back to whence we started. Petrol fumes and smoke fill our tiny cocoon Here, let me help you Passenger to passenger, Fellow human, Compassionate eyes. Gran has a seat; She sways while we lurch. Deep within Railroad country I make believe I know something Of the girl Of the Plannies; That sacred connection To land and sky, To Native country, To Golden Macrocarpa I stare over hills of tree ferns, Kawakawa, Wheki, Punga And, knowing no other, I feel this land Majestically My own.
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Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 9:47 PM UTC
Railroad Country, Sacred Land
Hurry now, it’s leaving soon Car door slams, gravel underfoot And from the boot Grandmas lil helper is lifted Oh! Where did it go? Wind twists scarf to snake Released from frames captivity I stoop and tug Under your foot, Gran She shuffles, Ties it firmly around tiny shoulders Bright colour against delicate skin Paper thin, both, One for beauty, one to hold the blood in And may it hold the blood in, Just a little longer... The train awaits, Monstrous, Steele stark against surrounding bush. Matt has a sausage, Mum bothers about tickets, Both fuss and fizzle, I press lips firmly together Deciding then and there Never to let entertainment turn to stress; It’s more than it’s worth. We’re to be in the engine room, The rest will be left behind - As something faulty. Matt lifts Gran up; She’s tiny, She’s flying, She’s in. And then we’re all in. Crammed. We stare longingly through grimy glass At empty carriages Can’t we be in there? It’s all a bit stuffy. There’s a fire along the track But we don’t go any further. The smoke streams out over forest. And jerking and bumping, Dipping along, We reverse back to whence we started. Petrol fumes and smoke fill our tiny cocoon Here, let me help you Passenger to passenger, Fellow human, Compassionate eyes. Gran has a seat; She sways while we lurch. Deep within Railroad country I make believe I know something Of the girl Of the Plannies; That sacred connection To land and sky, To Native country, To Golden Macrocarpa I stare over hills of tree ferns, Kawakawa, Wheki, Punga And, knowing no other, I feel this land Majestically My own.
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67
Dear Poet Friends, Here is a poem by a young Canadian poet named Darien, which I found while browsing the Net! I would like to share this with you as a prelude to my poem about the 'Rise of The Third Reich', - which I hope to post on this Site shortly. Thanks, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi World War II - ADOLF ****** by DARIEN,  Aug 21, 2006 Austria raised a man so vile and vicious His life was dark, callous and malicious Passions of hatred engraved in his mind As he plotted to create his own mankind A soldier for Germany in World War One War to end all wars had only just begun The National Socialist Party appeared fast Their numbers grew rapidly as time passed Charismatic oratory and propaganda his tool False promises made, people he would fool Were Nazis the one to bring hope? Perhaps Without their help Germany would collapse The Reichstag Fire would be a stepping stone Germany's President died, he took the throne He became the fuhrer leader of all Germany And would start the worst war of the century War had been started with a Nazi-Soviet pact Together with Russia, Poland they attacked England and France were not ready for war Marching of Nazis soldiers was not ignored. Mussolini became his ally and supported him For all other countries their chances were slim Many countries were defeated in a few days the Fascist and Nazis would give him praise Blitzkrieg was a strategy that worked most In defeating all his enemies he came close The Nazis would spread all across Europe But it would be at Stalingrad they would stop Communist regimes were one group he did hate Yet it was the Jews he would try to annihilate In all cruelty, bloodshed, war would soon end There was still so much for people to defend On V-Day he saw all his armies demolished ****** and fascism in Europe was abolished World War Two ended the areas were secure From that evil, monstrous beast Adolf ******                                       - By Darien. (Canada)   ..........................................................................
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Sep 22, 2018
Sep 22, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
WORLD WAR II - ADOLF ******
Dear Poet Friends, Here is a poem by a young Canadian poet named Darien, which I found while browsing the Net! I would like to share this with you as a prelude to my poem about the 'Rise of The Third Reich', - which I hope to post on this Site shortly. Thanks, - Raj Nandy, New Delhi World War II - ADOLF ****** by DARIEN,  Aug 21, 2006 Austria raised a man so vile and vicious His life was dark, callous and malicious Passions of hatred engraved in his mind As he plotted to create his own mankind A soldier for Germany in World War One War to end all wars had only just begun The National Socialist Party appeared fast Their numbers grew rapidly as time passed Charismatic oratory and propaganda his tool False promises made, people he would fool Were Nazis the one to bring hope? Perhaps Without their help Germany would collapse The Reichstag Fire would be a stepping stone Germany's President died, he took the throne He became the fuhrer leader of all Germany And would start the worst war of the century War had been started with a Nazi-Soviet pact Together with Russia, Poland they attacked England and France were not ready for war Marching of Nazis soldiers was not ignored. Mussolini became his ally and supported him For all other countries their chances were slim Many countries were defeated in a few days the Fascist and Nazis would give him praise Blitzkrieg was a strategy that worked most In defeating all his enemies he came close The Nazis would spread all across Europe But it would be at Stalingrad they would stop Communist regimes were one group he did hate Yet it was the Jews he would try to annihilate In all cruelty, bloodshed, war would soon end There was still so much for people to defend On V-Day he saw all his armies demolished ****** and fascism in Europe was abolished World War Two ended the areas were secure From that evil, monstrous beast Adolf ******                                       - By Darien. (Canada)   ..........................................................................
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41
Familiar voices blur and dissolve In the cauldron of time. Distant and Distorted the fumes rise and metamorphose into Animals with Masks. Pull them off! Rip them! Expose their naked monstrous faces They run for cover. One old witch predicts success Another fame And a third- fortune I lose myself in the past and the future; the present- a suspended moment That does not exist. - Vijayalakshmi Harish Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
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Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 10:00 AM UTC
Lady Macbeth
My life is composed of things I didn't ask for, it has been overtaken by tears, sadness, and blades. I don't know how this monstrous disease took over, it just did. It was fine one day and the next- wiped from my memory. I wish I could figure it out but all I know is I am closed up tight like a shoe box filled with memories- I am here, but I am stuffed away, ignored, and overlooked. You ask why I have these issues and I can't tell you for fear of rejection so I tear my skin open just to acquire the feeling of being alive and I don't dare tell someone for they will say I am weak and pathetic.
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Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
My Life
father offers, no, we are bodies trapped in people. he was known to be monstrous when inside a vandalized church. if gay, he’d ask does anyone ask if you were born? yesterday, she was identified by her dentist. she was recalled as a hunger pain. man is a rumor started by god.
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
******
A SOCIETY WRITTEN IN FLAMES; SHROUDED IN DARKNESS *The tears flows in an endless way Bemoaning the days of yore Watching with eyes that sparks red, Sunken and beaten from the tragedies of yore Helpless and wishing for a relentless call As tragedy hits her most sensitive part, Bemoaning the tides, All her days of glory, Now a shadowy story* *She had been ***** by her very own, The children she yearned and bled for, The men she fed and trained, Where her rain fell full and vast, to soothe their hearts Where she gave it all, and smiled, hoping that someday, they will realize her sacrifices and sleepless nights, Her nights of terror and horrors Where she stood in the midst of the stormy eerie night, shrouded in darkness* *It was her ******* they ****** and clunged to, It was her arms that shielded them from the shadows of the dark, But when they grew and flew, She waited still Praying and wishing they would remember the days of yore* *Then the dark hour rolled away, And when morning came, it was harrowing. It was harrowing how she waited abandoned and dejected, As her sons and daughters peaked at the sky, Trampling her down, Relegating and belittling her Painful it were, as she cried from the agonies of the days of yore, Where she laid all her virtues down, Giving it all to see her children smile,* *It is this dejection that has brought her to tears, It is this wickedness of a child to a mother, that has made her weep endlessly It is this tragedy that have swallowed her glory, As her children keeps flying above huddles, in peace and harmony, Forgetting her, It is this callousness, that pushed them to sapping her virtues and enriching themselves with it thereon* *What is worse than a child abandoning his mother? It is this penchant, that drives them It is the love of greed, It is the seed of corruption, It is not an inherited trait, It is a despicable decision Like a monstrous shadow, Twirling the back of the night. It is the fire that burns within their heart, The fire to **** steal and destroy To take what she can never give again To live, To live big at the expenses of others sorrow and agony It is this evil that has perused Nigeria and has rendered her a roaming wretch And now tragedy looms, It booms and blooms,* A society written in flames Who will save MOTHER NIGERIA? Ovi Odiete© 2016, Oct. 31 All rights reserved Note Children here signifies the evil politicians and men that has sapped our country dry with their evil penchant
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Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
"~~Nigeria-Written in Flames~~"
A SOCIETY WRITTEN IN FLAMES; SHROUDED IN DARKNESS *The tears flows in an endless way Bemoaning the days of yore Watching with eyes that sparks red, Sunken and beaten from the tragedies of yore Helpless and wishing for a relentless call As tragedy hits her most sensitive part, Bemoaning the tides, All her days of glory, Now a shadowy story* *She had been ***** by her very own, The children she yearned and bled for, The men she fed and trained, Where her rain fell full and vast, to soothe their hearts Where she gave it all, and smiled, hoping that someday, they will realize her sacrifices and sleepless nights, Her nights of terror and horrors Where she stood in the midst of the stormy eerie night, shrouded in darkness* *It was her ******* they ****** and clunged to, It was her arms that shielded them from the shadows of the dark, But when they grew and flew, She waited still Praying and wishing they would remember the days of yore* *Then the dark hour rolled away, And when morning came, it was harrowing. It was harrowing how she waited abandoned and dejected, As her sons and daughters peaked at the sky, Trampling her down, Relegating and belittling her Painful it were, as she cried from the agonies of the days of yore, Where she laid all her virtues down, Giving it all to see her children smile,* *It is this dejection that has brought her to tears, It is this wickedness of a child to a mother, that has made her weep endlessly It is this tragedy that have swallowed her glory, As her children keeps flying above huddles, in peace and harmony, Forgetting her, It is this callousness, that pushed them to sapping her virtues and enriching themselves with it thereon* *What is worse than a child abandoning his mother? It is this penchant, that drives them It is the love of greed, It is the seed of corruption, It is not an inherited trait, It is a despicable decision Like a monstrous shadow, Twirling the back of the night. It is the fire that burns within their heart, The fire to **** steal and destroy To take what she can never give again To live, To live big at the expenses of others sorrow and agony It is this evil that has perused Nigeria and has rendered her a roaming wretch And now tragedy looms, It booms and blooms,* A society written in flames Who will save MOTHER NIGERIA? Ovi Odiete© 2016, Oct. 31 All rights reserved Note Children here signifies the evil politicians and men that has sapped our country dry with their evil penchant
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59
"Do not worry I will be gentle," said the wolf. "You mean to tell me, a beast as monstrous as you, is capable of mercy," said the traveler. "No, not mercy," said the wolf. “Gentleness, there is a difference. I will devour you tenderly.”
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Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 1:35 PM UTC
Tender wolf
I'm scared of the silence                                                  It speaks to me Of dangers and demons                                                  And monstrous things It's haunting my nightmares                                                  It sings me to sleep Turning all of my fears                                                  Into reality
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 2:47 PM UTC
Nightmares
Have you ever dated a butterfly ? A butterfly who wings been  grounded by lies,sin, adultery and broken promises. A grounded butterfly whose wings ripped apart from a monstrous ant. The butterfly stayed realizing its wings will never grow but it loved that ant for pleasures  that won't fill the soul but just entice the body. One day  that butterfly did try to fly again but no wings and it found itself by mere coincidence in the nest of  a growing dragonfly. The dragon fly too was hurt and found itself wingless doing anything to forget it couldn't fly. One day the butterfly and dragonfly came to be one together to ease the pain and to give the love the other deserves both too soon not ready but it's great, good and **** right horrible days. But over time through mistakes and lies. The dragonfly past vices caught up to it and little did the butterfly know it had baggage too it was fighting though wrong it tried to hide it but made things worse. More time passed and struggles and misfortunes continued; it  became apparent to the butterfly tired of being grounded it saw the dragonfly as species it cant intermix with. They fought mentally against eachother only while hurting deep inside, the dragonfly too became more devoided and hidden but secretly it wanted to help bring the wings back to the butterfly.  But after being dishonest the butterfly came to see it as a no good liar and cheat too. A simple mistake it made and it hangs over something it never did but the die was cast, a created persona made from pain and hurt. Truth is till this day that dragonfly only wishes to help and love that butterfly  like it should be and dispel that hurt. It wonders how can you get a butterfly that gave you chances and now won't take you back ?can you make a home, write a poem, or stay home alone wondering can you turn back time..... It's still got a ways to go before its fully mature and experienced but it wishes to grow along side the butterfly as it too grows it's wings. Can one day they build into what eachother needs with reckless abandon and learn to love one another the right way. Just mere thoughts from a dragonfly.
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Dec 1, 2019
Dec 1, 2019 at 4:19 AM UTC
To date a butterfly
Have you ever dated a butterfly ? A butterfly who wings been  grounded by lies,sin, adultery and broken promises. A grounded butterfly whose wings ripped apart from a monstrous ant. The butterfly stayed realizing its wings will never grow but it loved that ant for pleasures  that won't fill the soul but just entice the body. One day  that butterfly did try to fly again but no wings and it found itself by mere coincidence in the nest of  a growing dragonfly. The dragon fly too was hurt and found itself wingless doing anything to forget it couldn't fly. One day the butterfly and dragonfly came to be one together to ease the pain and to give the love the other deserves both too soon not ready but it's great, good and **** right horrible days. But over time through mistakes and lies. The dragonfly past vices caught up to it and little did the butterfly know it had baggage too it was fighting though wrong it tried to hide it but made things worse. More time passed and struggles and misfortunes continued; it  became apparent to the butterfly tired of being grounded it saw the dragonfly as species it cant intermix with. They fought mentally against eachother only while hurting deep inside, the dragonfly too became more devoided and hidden but secretly it wanted to help bring the wings back to the butterfly.  But after being dishonest the butterfly came to see it as a no good liar and cheat too. A simple mistake it made and it hangs over something it never did but the die was cast, a created persona made from pain and hurt. Truth is till this day that dragonfly only wishes to help and love that butterfly  like it should be and dispel that hurt. It wonders how can you get a butterfly that gave you chances and now won't take you back ?can you make a home, write a poem, or stay home alone wondering can you turn back time..... It's still got a ways to go before its fully mature and experienced but it wishes to grow along side the butterfly as it too grows it's wings. Can one day they build into what eachother needs with reckless abandon and learn to love one another the right way. Just mere thoughts from a dragonfly.
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