"morally" poems
Fiat lux and
Then I stand and see how it looks out on
Gnothi seauton psychologies of a naughty automaton he is
Out speeding on the autobahn while she is
Now sleeping on futons in peace it's
Not pieces that need to be re-ordered yet
Since he's reckless but wrecks less when he's courting it's
A sport, you see a ticket's his master trophy in-
Deed endorsing his Porsche-speed matrimony down master row and she's
Driven to this racer who makes her en-
Force things, they later make her take her lead like lead's erasing then vanishing
Banished from whatever it is they're drinking and it's cleaned
Running from the pitcher as if it's her fantasy
Love who's the catcher who has her and
Now you see
It's not lack-lusting but luck-lasting because lastly
Down the street
Is where I swear we're running faster from crashing, finally
Into this dreamcatcher's hazard
Our dreamcatcher's hazard
Oh have you heard
It's absurd that the whip cracked
Yeah the Porsche was hacked baby transformed back in two and back into a nat-
Ural rural state where the horse power level was more morally sta-
Ble biblically faith-
Ful foolishly a-
Ble but yeah we take over whatever we face-off and baby we're faster so we'll have to chase after our
Dreamcatcher's hazard and
That dreamcatcher's hazard's a
A madness that is learned
And it's absurd
So say the mattress is glowing it's holy
Matrimony, so don't look lonely it's only
Master Roshi, to say to chase your dreams
It's you and me be-
Cause for you my blood is flowing
For you my blood is glowing
For you this blood is flowing
And too the flood is blowing
It's true our love is growing
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 8:22 PM UTC
Of all the super heroes who exist
like legends, or monuments in entertainment,
or essential cultural commodities,
and
my favorite is Moon Knight.
Never met a good reception.
Never had a particularly well done story.
I like Moon Knight in theory;
a superhero with mental issues,
with friends who face the moral challenge
of playing into his insanity,
versus helping him stop serious crimes.
It seemed like a social commentary to me;
why do we hate dictators, but love superheroes?
How is it we understand absolute power corrupts
absolutely,
yet also think having an alien demigod semi-rule the planet
is really in the best interest of our species?
The design for Moon Knight has always been immaculate
to me; directly representing the fallibility of the hero,
diving into the night with a decadent radiance,
he wears all white, and declares he enjoys it-
for his enemies to know he's coming.
Does it make sense? No.
Much like the Punisher, Moon Knight doesn't struggle with
being morally black and white, but does struggle with
keeping that identity intact. His eyes glowing,
no face shown... just darkness.
All the emotion in the world broadcast through
two glowing orbs. sometimes red, sometimes green,
often white.
A visual hint to clouded mind of Moon Knight;
Marvel's true Batman gone awry. Gone insane.
A failed son who won't die.
Here's to it.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
If you are single do not stress it, mainly it's because you understand the complexity of the relationship recipe you're a child of destiny and a victim of intuition, morally gifted, respectfully lifted, GPS couldn't follow your mission, eagerly itching; but if they don't cut the standards you know how to dismiss 'em, If they're not sharp enough they have no place in your kitchen; not smart enough they don't deserve a compound sentence PERIOD
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
Hypnotized by you,
I am drowning,
Day by day.
In the emotion,
Of your love,
Gleefully.
I'm drowning wilfully,
Really not to be save,
Listen when I say.
Effortlessly I let my body sink,
Not struggling at all to escape,
I only fear distance from you.
Not the physical distance,
But the distance of hearts,
A distance of heartbreaks.
You say similar things,
Claiming I stole your heart,
An eternal truth this we share.
Dreaming on & on,
We even struggle often,
Our struggle goes on & on.
Looking into these calm dark eyes,
On your face full of beauty & truth,
I gain an escape from worldly lies.
You claim I jinxed you the first time,
So true- weren't we bound to meet,
It's just Time choreographed this.
I can't easily refute the blame,
After all I am an equal partner,
In this lyrical life & this game.
So I bear morally equal liability,
As we observe our love garner,
After all I am older than you.
We can't give into these tough times,
Not now, today, tomorrow nor ever,
For our relationship is a challenge.
A challenge for changing our world it is,
A bright change for a brighter future,
A betterment of your & my lives.
I know you're with me in life,
I know you're surely lighter,
I know you're much young.
Younger than my experience,
Younger than my sad lifespan,
Younger than my reborn avatar.
Happier than my own best happy,
Happier than my ever-so-pale face,
Happier than my knowledge can be.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Right to education,
Is a right to live,
Without education we spontaneously get,
A right to die,
Not physically but morally,
Illiteracy is our moral death,
For being illiterate we can't even talk life,
Education is a soul rests
In the body of human being,
So without education,
We are only human animals,
Education takes us to height of humanity.
BY: Sandhya Nirvana Indarjeet(me)
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 5:53 PM UTC
*** Worker to a house wife -->)
Entertain not for me hatred
It is only for a daily bread
I take your husband abed.
Since you are so timid
In haste, you leave your husband
Restless and discontented.
********** is an art
My dear sister
You should surely master
Than on me nicknames pester
Harlot,Slut,Hooker and a *****
Read a lot on the subject
With your spouse develop the art
At long last
When you prove your dexterity
In conjugal felicity
A tip it would be for mental integrity.
With affection and suggestion open
Your spouse,you can turn
A ********** machine,
What else do you need in return.
By and By
You may not seek a hit on the sly
(<--A housewife to a *** worker)
My dear sister in Christ
I know there is nothing foul in your heart
Except,you are a *** worker by ill fate.
Thanks a lot for your comment
Which I will second no doubt.
Dear sister in Christ
At times if both
You and my husband
Get debouch of beer or Highland
Check you have a ****** at hand
Just when you hold him inside,
For otherwise
Severe will be the consequence
For me and my child.
So you are morally obliged
By "No ****** no *** to abide
I am also willing to you extend
A helping hand
That could help you
On your feet stand
Than barter your body
For a daily bread!
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 8:25 AM UTC
Spinning chairs, crashing
Dollars bills, in a G-string
Face hammering,
by sweaty sticky ***** cheeks
Plastic suitcases, held tightly
Chug your drink it's time to leave
Walk cautiously, drink powefully
Ting, ting, goes the machine
She winked at her, she pinched back
He said let's go
Their room opening
Laying, the mysterious women on the bed
He grabbed her hips
His wife watched, caressing her ****
Door goes cold
Sun shining brightly
Eyes being punctured into gaping holes
Cheesy over done smile, stepping into the livingroom floor
Perfect outstanding family
Morally hidden, detrimental corrupting
Their professional suits, look so clean
Appearance is everything
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 2:27 PM UTC
Long before she was born
The balance, the societal scale,
The ground upon which her wobbly feet
Will learn to stand upright and walk steady
Had been socially disintegrated.
Arms with which her clay mind
Is to be molded and framed
Had been morally fractured.
The ‘responsible majority'
Saddled with the making of serious decisions
Had decided against her-
The minor, with fewer rights
And a body like hers-
Double jeopardy, I will say.
The verdict always the same,
Unanimous more often than not
Guilty!! Is the girl child;
If she grows too fast
Or he touches her inappropriately.
So she learns from her early days
The skill of helplessness
All through the pain and the shame
For it is always her fault
Always has been
Long before she arrived
©Belema .S. Ekine
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 7:07 AM UTC
I'm a realist, mildly an idealist.
My ideas create a mindset that allows me to express feelings
But I built up a wall, high as a skyscraper..I stand, as a realist I know if I jump, I'm bound to meet my maker. I don't think idealist are weak.
I just think they escape the honesty they seek.
You don't walk a straight line in order for you to finally reach your peak.
Obstacles come and go, water is a need if you want to grow, you can't have a lightbulb without an idea and expect it to magically glow.
I know every action I do and especially when I am wrong but, I just won't rewrite all my wrongs, they inspire all of my greatest songs.
Optimistic that I'll make it, I just need more effort than 50 percent
because you get what you put in, as a realist I know if you put in half, half back is all you will ever get.
People remember your mistakes, the heroics they just simply forget.
I can't stand when people think it's okay to live a life without any regrets.
*Sure things happen for a reason and karma "may" have your enemies morally bleeding, but your ideology sounds misguiding and thought process misleading. Karma is an excuse to allow a higher calling contribute to your spiteful abuse, you don't want the crime on your soul so you allow the angels to fatally shoot. It's fine, before we die, we all commit a crime.
Women **** men steal, just being in love should require you to do time.*
Born a realist sinner...far from an idealist winner
Success doesn't come over night
The sweet life doesn't come until after you've made your dinner..and cleaned the plate, but we're never satisfied...nah, we going to probably eat again late.
Work hard for the dream, don't just rely on faith.
A realist knows she may not show up, even when you scheduled a date.
It's all love to the victims, stuck in a fiction. If you hate this piece...your ignorance got you unable to listen.
Not my problem though. I'm speaking without any permission! I like that idea...oh **** wait...I think I just become my own contradiction?
...forget it, I'm healing, my words and unpredictable wisdom, I am still dealing.
Insanity is a fear that is expressed towards you when others have confusion
A realist, an idealist..no one is right...our concepts to each other seem all an illusion.
-Dougie simps
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:13 AM UTC
Emotional abandonment
of the
Self
by the
Self
is the greatest
DECEIT
of all.
Becoming your own
personal
JUDAS,
just because it's morally:
SAFE?
ACCEPTED?
PROTECTIVE?
What a **** way to
kayak your way through
life's never ending
**** SHOW,
starring YOU
the
**** PUPPET.
Full of fear,
full of ****
Forcing yourself to
FEEL
or
BE
anyone but yourself
is a fast train
to
CHRONIC SPIRITUAL CONSTIPATION.
baaa baaa
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 3:21 PM UTC
The deep sighs of fall
send chills across the daisies.
My compass is sick
and there’s a sense of urgency in my eyelashes,
feeling around for the blisters on my skin
searching for a bed to sleep.
Facets of sleep
encourage the rain to fall,
cold weather raising capillaries under my skin.
I wrote the history of the Holocene era on daisies,
microscope lenses tickling my eyelashes;
dim lighting makes me home sick.
My mind is sick,
I dream of oceans in my sleep,
medicine labels printed on my eyelashes
pill bottles coloured like fall.
Tattoos of purple fringed daisies
cover my shoulders like skin.
Teeth full of apple skin;
asking God how not to be sick,
wondering if a sacrifice of daisies
will get my blood to sleep.
My hair is like the leaves during fall;
I hope I get to keep my eyelashes.
There’s snow in my eyelashes,
landscapes of frost form on skin
the cold air begins to fall,
I decide to call in sick
preferring to hide in a hot sleep
until my breaths sprout purple daisies.
How to grow Gerber daisies,
without losing my eyelashes?
My fingernails are full of sleep,
hot tea grasps at my paper skin.
The panacea for the sick
is a perfect concentration of wool sweaters and fall.
You eat daisies in the fever of fall.
Through my eyelashes I am morally sick,
but yesterday I finally let sleep settle into my skin.
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
The Serpent squeezes the mundane egg, for a moment in time,
…to begin the ages, turn the wheel, and so begin the rhyme,
The circus has commenced, a dancing, swirling motion,
…a pit of ghastly horrors, seen as a vast deep ocean,
…or celestial or cosmic, as some would have the notion.
Some of them were large, although some were also small,
…and grotesquely figured or disfigured, a scary monster’s ball,
…and trudging, stampeding, stomping or slithering down the hall.
There they danced, sang or prattled, where giants fought and where they battled, …thunder unto heroes rattled, with awful screams so frightening, and terrifying lightning!
Scaly, hairy or feathered, wet and fiery or weathered,
…conjoined, twisted or tethered, slithery writhing together,
Kingu and his wife, some say it was t’was his mother,
…his plan was war and strife, pitting brother against brother,
A ******* existence and so morally depraved,
…a state of sickly persistence, they found themselves enslaved.
Then abounding voice of heaven, that divided night by day,
…brought forth a princely king of Luke; the warrior Marduk.
Fourteen engaged in combat, the one against thirteen,
…and thus aligned with the ecliptic, at night they can be seen,
Sloshing in the Apsu, beaten with the club,
…slain and torn to pieces, cutting channels of their blood,
A north wind sent them to their places, fixed on Tiamat’s wheel,
…and the starry constellations, did Marduk bring to heel.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 5:47 PM UTC
Benevolent Krishna blessed
Gandhari saw the dead.
Shattered stingy bodies lay
Scattered, smeared with blood.
Oh! Krishna! You are the cause
Cause of all these loss”
Sobbing Gandhari babbled, but
Krishna stood- mute and smiling
Krishna was duty conscious
What Gamdhari failed to do.
Neither a good other was nor a queen
Inpartial , she stood for justice.
Audacious Duriyodhana was brought up,
Reckless Dussasana belittled Panchali;
But ,Gandhari remained blind and dumb.
As our modernist mummy does
Justified her sons ‘nd blamed others rude.
Test-tube babies and Hostel wards
Grow up sans love in them.
Crying mummy cry thy lot; else…
Properly, morally, foster thy progeny.
Gandhari doomed the life of Panchali
Woman are foes of women-folk
No law can save, unless themselves
Do their destined duty fairly.
(A poem based on MahaBharatha story.)
May 7, 2012
May 7, 2012 at 1:00 AM UTC
I want to speak French, and read more, and wear suits more often but in a casual way, and also wear a watch, and design book covers as a side job, while working for and helping children who don’t have great homes.
I want to be a morally better person, and live life to its fullest potential, and stay in shape because I want to live long, and not because I want to look good. I want to be able to have a great time and remember it, I want to remember to take my meds every day for so long that it becomes part of me and I am finally better, I want to be in a triathlon.
I want to create art that makes you feel so alone that you don’t care what happens next, but make music that makes you want to live forever because there will never be enough time to experience everything you want to feel. I want to share moments with strangers that make us life long friends. I want to feel things I’ve never even thought were possible, and fall in love with people that I didn’t even think exist.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 11:36 PM UTC
Imagine a warehouse of apples with their individual conciousness.
They are labelled and categorised.
They are segregated.
The apples are gathered and put into boxes marked
by what they want to be known by,
their commonality/mentality.
If a bushel of apples are a stigma, they are put into boxes marked by what the other apples tag them by.
In a self-marked box, by the name of “surat zayifa” an apple lays at the juncture of the pyramid of analogous red,
maggots eating away at it’s heart.
The apple turned crimson hued to an evangelist blood maroon. Smouldering; festering like an open wound.
A stinging aura besieged it,
suffocating the air like sharpnel stuck in the throat.
The apple, consumed by a dark resurgence and a devilish resolve,
spoke in tongues of the serpent and supplanted seeds of pestilence in the hearts of the apples who joined his brooding virtue.
A collective conciousness was supplanted among the fruit,
imprinted with the face of death.
The world of apples, thrive on each other and face the forebodings of life together in spite of their marked differences in a state of throbbing dependancy.
The apples feed on the apples.
Another self-marked box, by the name of “khalas” were set to consume the apples from “surat zayifa” to continue finity,
unwary of their poisoned souls.
The apples fed on the apples and almost every other apple rotted and perished.
The apples that survived were the ones who consumed the apples unblemished in spirit.
All the others apples from all the other boxes blamed “surat zayifa” as a whole.
Even the apples purest, were tainted by the sins of the other apples,
the ones to take the blame for the misdeed of their creed.
The box was now marked in disgrace, a vehemence, a scourge.
The last remaining poisoned apple that was set to perish from “khalas” did something morally unhinging before it’s spirit departed;
the apple smeared it’s tan blood with words on the cardboard and dropped dead.
The singular light bulb flickered, the pulse strained.
Everything fell silent.
The words read “ We are ourselves. We **** ourselves.”
May 4, 2017
May 4, 2017 at 1:17 AM UTC
Gettin’ sh!t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing,
want to throw myself up out of myself,
can escape every position except the one I’m in,
can’t escape yourself if knowledge is wealth,
then I’m loaded & still spending my winnings,
got Karma Credit but I’m morally cash poor,
because I just fckt my girlfriend as if she was a *****
and I feel terrible or rather horrible about it,
because i think I’m infected by what neglect did without a cure,
no one is pure,
at least I’m not that’s for sure,
I'm tainted with devils in my head painted with what I spilled I’m red,
sick with the sort of illness that can't easily be cured,
in fact got a bad case of the blues,
but instead of strumming a guitar I’m taking things too far,
cut her so bad with my fingernails,
that I fear it might leave a few scars,
tied her up so tight,
that her wrists turned purple,
see she’s attracted to bad boys,
and I warned her that that’s the type of attraction that can hurt you,
little girl shouldn’t be out past her curfew,
nothing good ever happens past midnight,
but we’re both running from something,
both stand outs in the in crowd still something doesn’t sit right,
I’m uncomfortable,
because I think maybe all humans are disgusting,
maybe we just cause each other pain and trash the earth’s surface,
maybe we deserve to feel guilty & that’s why we are all fcking distrusting,
maybe I’m gonna fckn **** myself,
but this is a card game so then again maybe I’m bluffing,
maybe everything’s going to be alright,
maybe I’m being uptight for nothing,
but I’ll tell you what I feel like the **** of my own joke,
but I don’t give a fck so instead of changing I’m just shrugging,
mean mugging every person I pass suspicious of every bloke,
because these days crime pays and everyone’s always up to something,
and I just want to get ghost,
but I can’t and I guess that’s the way it goes,
so I’m sittin’ in the uncomfortable position,
of being both a role model as well as a criminal,
Gettin’ sh!t on like I’m The Villian,
got this queasy feeling on the line reeling,
coming undone at the same time wound up and spun,
I’m done playing but stuck at the table with The Dealer still dealing…
∆ LaLux ∆
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 7:18 AM UTC
when the sun shines,my mind finds, inspiration as I look upon a nation with untapped potential and a need for influential ****** such as myself.
I do not brag or boast, I am just a sand peckle laying in the coast, but I refuse to be tossed and bossed around by the waves of social expectations and wicked ways of a nation just so one day I can hope to be found.
the tongue is powerful so I watch what I say, I believe in self motivation just incase friends slowly start pushing away, I believe in being morally upright and refusing discrimination upon Gods creations, communications without conflicts having good public relations.
I would not go so far as to call myself a king for motivation,
I would only say that I am a man that brings comfortation,
don't cling to observations,
just sing and make proclamations,
that people aren't actually free. I mean they are but don't act like it, matter of fact they don't like it when you tell them they are stuck to routines.
people are so busy trying to make a living but forget to make a life for themselves.
my mind is an attic, filled with the old and the New coz it's dynamic, I am also an addict, to a tragic free life.
so when you say life's a ***** just know your the snitch that let life dig a ditch and placed you in it, now stop for a minute and think about it and try admit it, most of us don't get in it, we were just born in it. we woke up to walls around us, limitations.life is for the living, get out there and breathe in the fresh air, believe in something but beware, have good desires, coz if not you end up in the ditch this time burning with fire.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Once I looked to the Bard for words profound;
ageless, his wisdom ran unabated.
Yet Hamlet is now ideologically unsound,
“the slings and arrows” historically Iocated.
I wept for the creature of Frankenstein,
spurned by his master, forced to roam the Earth.
But I’d been subjectively positioned in a paradigm
by Mary’s anxiety about childbirth.
I read Balzac, Hardy and Henry James
describing “worlds” which seemed quite sensible.
Now Eagleton’s exposed their bourgeois games
I find them morally reprehensible.
I dreamt of being Robinson Crusoe
or proud, fierce Hawkeye in his buckskins dressed,
but Fenimore and Defoe have to go,
they’re culturally encoded and empirically obsessed.
Inspired by Guinness, did James Joyce sit down
to see what magic flowed when he was ******
The stream of Ulysses floats Bloom-about-town
dreamthinkingnever : “I’mamodernist”.
I’d gladly give Woolf a Room of Her Own
and be one of the boys with Hemingway,
but sensitive guys leave their bulls alone
say de Beauvoir and Luce Irigaray.
No more fun with Wordsworth being daffodilly,
no simple pleasure reading Mickey Mouse;
Steamboat Willie can’t help but look silly
dissected by Foucault and Levi-Strauss.
The Bible shows intertextuality
says the two Jacques, Lacan and Derrida.
Judas, a construct of bisexuality?
The **** fixations of Herod are?
It’s got so bad I deconstruct a holiday brochure.
I can’t even **** without Roland Barthes and Ferdinand de Saussure.
Feb 25, 2015
Feb 25, 2015 at 12:06 AM UTC
he truth about divorce:
it's not glamorous
it's not uplifting or enabling
it's not fair
it's not pretty
it's not enlightening
it's not comforting
it's not romantic
it's ugly
it's painfull
it's destructive
it's morally debilitating
it's lonely
it's dream destroying
it's mascochistic
the hands that carried you to the altar,
turns into pointing fingers of accusations.
the promises you made,
turns into regrets.
the rings that bound your love,
becomes shackles of hate.
there is nothing about divorce that makes me feel any better.
Jan 26, 2010
Jan 26, 2010 at 10:59 PM UTC
Equality will never happen because our actions and fantasized habits contradict what a perfect match is. With society's eyes high above the mindless horizon, many feel stranded between what wrong and right is. Therefore many have chose to win rather than lose the mold of plastic.
Although, hope lies with the few who choose to refuse the use of closed eyelids.
Few still choose what is morally, rather than religiously, righteous.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 1:32 PM UTC
And can you believe,
The horrible glee
With which his lips licked.
Dreaming-- carcass picked,
Reveling wholly.
Dismissing Holy
Enlightened beings,
Sinking in Needing.
Black black smack, alack!
I'm a crack-gack hack!
Or, mayhaps, I'm not?
Or, perhaps, just caught,
In nauseous verde waves
Of fanciful raves--
Rants all entertained--
I say makes me drained.
Baudelaire's half-baked,
Chatterton-- cracked
Morally, sorely
Standing half-poorly
But standing up still,
Avoiding the thrill
Of desert mirage,
It's poison barrage!
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 10:16 AM UTC
Fluctuating back and forth on the idea of how to relieve
The theme of cynicism throughout your life;
Tough like nails: too stubborn to let go of whatever
They were hammered into; the hits we take
Make us unstable and unmovable from certain aspects.
You chose to Stitch your eyes up
With a thin piece of cynical string and a metal needle.
Threading the idea of light and dark in each vessel,
Causing your body parts to glow and show
Off the direction of ideas, in out and down,
But never up, for the sake of falling for the
Instinctual trust and hope humans so conveniently thrive for.
Conquered and obtained the conflict from your child
Hood, fluctuating on the idea of morally right
And morally wrong. Cough, cough, cough. Right
Lung punctured by stale smoke, your lips twitch in
The environment. Blood swells in your veins, forget
That women’s ******* are to feed her children.
Wipe the grin off the old man whose sipping warm
Whiskey, tell him his wife is six feet under and partying
With the demons he drove her to acquire.
Like water, you are the universal solvent
Cleaning, clearing, conquering and
Creating a new symbiosis with human beings and
The world they are submerged in; We take it for granted.
Cynicism in brevity, is beautiful for the fact that it claims to be
Open and calm like ocean waves during low tide
Or a baby child’s gaggle and coo. Fluctuating between calm
And ignorant, more so unintentionally rational to the point
Of tearing your human anatomy apart and dipping the
Soon to be suffocated air in heavy smoke.
I’m afraid
Humans just can’t handle the **** truth of reality.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
Why are people intentionally cruel and malignant?
Are they too blind to mistake their Achilles’s heel for their forte?
Or do they intentionally enjoy obliterating anything that comes their way?
Indubitably, reeling into their self-destruction and collapse as the roof caves.
Repelling any benevolence into their lives,
They will close all doors with their narrow minds.
Atrociousness will prevail and set forth unfathomable tongues of rhyme.
Seeking insatiable supremacy governing in disguise.
Clearly oblivious to the detrimental exploits they expose,
They will lead a life that is solely self-imposed.
Cultivating an environment of animosity is not astute you see,
People will always revolt and eventually be set free.
Unless you morally evolve and realize you have wronged,
You will embark on a journey that will negatively consume your soul.
It begins with your physical state, depleting with every irrational action you make.
Ultimately, deteriorating your body into an anemic vegetable state.
Reeking of insecurities through the infusion of wretchedness and despair,
your life will begin to turn inside out transforming into an eternal torment of misery and hell.
However, it's never too late to change your tyrannical direction.
It's only compassion, empathy, and altruistic love that will be your salvation.
By: Michael M. De La Fuente
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
Living in a world run by bankers
You could be forgiven and think their wankers!
Politicians are now morally bankrupt
Yet voted in by all of us
A shambles the world stage thus becomes
When wars for oil are fought and won
For who holds the reigns in this new age?
A world of fear and religious rage
The media would have you believe that everyone's our enemy
All fed the same by those in power, brainwashed TV every hour
No lesson yet have we ever learnt our fate seems sealed and we shall burn
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:03 AM UTC