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"notoriety" poems
Psychedelic Rose Hallucinogenic eugenics False beauty Portrayed poorly Because it’s unreal Yet The feelings pursue me Persecution Prosecution Against this prostitution of emotions I sell myself cheap $20.00 The price for my soul Sold To the mass Extinction of reality Who’s to say this bouquet Of roses Can’t arise before My death? I decorate The interior To design a mind That’s perfected In the opinions Of those who know No better Drama setter Setting the décor For the setting Letting the encore Bring life In the form Of more roses Atrocious Notoriety From unwanted fame Or A poor poet Starving artist Projected as a failure In this motion picture Called life.
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Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 3:58 PM UTC
Psychedelic Rose
tell me why the people who want to change the world are the ones that have nothing but the ones who refuse to change anything have everything- money, notoriety, and most notable of all greed. can some please explain why we send money to hungry kids overseas yet we're blind to the young ones that are starving right in front of us? i just want to know why a hijab is considered a weapon in america but a gun is not. more importantly what i don't understand is how come women slave around for 9 months producing the human race yet we have no choice over our own bodies? we have made "progress" things are apparently "moving ahead" however, the right-wingers are putting that into your mind. if you look really close at what's happening you'll see you've been living an american lie. no one is free, really, no freedom of love or freedom our bodies we are the property of a corrupt government that apparently nurture us but only lie to us in the end.
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Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 5:40 PM UTC
the united states of dystopia
Hallucinogenic eugenics False beauty Portrayed poorly Because its unreal Yet The feelings pursue me Persecution Prosecution Against this prostitution of emotions I sell myself cheap $15.00 Is the price for my soul Sold To the mass Extinction of reality Whose to say this bouquet Of roses Cant arise before My death I decorate The interior To design a mind That’s perfected In the opinions Of those who know No better Drama setter Setting the décor For the setting Letting the encore Bring life In the form Of more roses Atrocious Notoriety From unwanted fame Or A poor poet Starving artist Projected as a failure In this motion picture Called life
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Jan 17, 2011
Jan 17, 2011 at 6:08 PM UTC
Psychedelic Flowers
If you know the tale of El Chapo, You know then what will befall Even the person who's known as The most famous drug lord of all. Exporting more drugs to America Than anyone else in the past, El Chapo lived like a king On the millions of dollars he amassed. You didn't mess with El Chapo. Woe betide you if you did! Not only would you suffer, So would your spouse or your kid. Back in the 90s El Chapo Found himself in a scrape And landed in a Mexican prison, But he found a way to escape. A protracted stay in the slammer For him was not in the cards: He bought his way to freedom By bribing the prison guards. For thirteen years El Chapo Evaded capture and hid. He kept up his shady dealings While trying to stay off the grid. Authorities in Chicago Gave this man on the run Notoriety as Public Enemy Number One. In 2015 the drug lord Was back in prison again. This time he fled through a tunnel Dug by some of his men. One day marines closed in. They thought they'd caught their man. El Chapo held a child In his arms as he ran. Soon El Chapo got sloppy. No one could catch him, he thought. Alas, the marines tracked him down. Back to a cell he was brought. Now the Americans want him. Extradite him, they say. El Chapo will be an example To show that crime doesn't pay. So, say good-bye, El Chapo, As you sadly wipe your tears. We hope you like your new home; You're going to be there for years. Yes, say good-bye, El Chapo, To your Sinaloa Cartel. A maximum security prison Will be your new citadel. - by Bob B
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Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 10:41 AM UTC
The Ballad of "El Chapo" (El Corrido de "El Chapo")
If you know the tale of El Chapo, You know then what will befall Even the person who's known as The most famous drug lord of all. Exporting more drugs to America Than anyone else in the past, El Chapo lived like a king On the millions of dollars he amassed. You didn't mess with El Chapo. Woe betide you if you did! Not only would you suffer, So would your spouse or your kid. Back in the 90s El Chapo Found himself in a scrape And landed in a Mexican prison, But he found a way to escape. A protracted stay in the slammer For him was not in the cards: He bought his way to freedom By bribing the prison guards. For thirteen years El Chapo Evaded capture and hid. He kept up his shady dealings While trying to stay off the grid. Authorities in Chicago Gave this man on the run Notoriety as Public Enemy Number One. In 2015 the drug lord Was back in prison again. This time he fled through a tunnel Dug by some of his men. One day marines closed in. They thought they'd caught their man. El Chapo held a child In his arms as he ran. Soon El Chapo got sloppy. No one could catch him, he thought. Alas, the marines tracked him down. Back to a cell he was brought. Now the Americans want him. Extradite him, they say. El Chapo will be an example To show that crime doesn't pay. So, say good-bye, El Chapo, As you sadly wipe your tears. We hope you like your new home; You're going to be there for years. Yes, say good-bye, El Chapo, To your Sinaloa Cartel. A maximum security prison Will be your new citadel. - by Bob B
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53
I have a confession to make, I said. I drink to forget all That my failings and foibles beget. Sobriety Sends me to most fitful sleep. No rest for he who in his unwaking hours Mulls over the wine of his life, which he sours With his own cork of guilt and self-conscience. All mine self-confidence Derives from Contradictions repressing. Catatonic sleep of great notoriety Is my limbo, my heaven, perchance my sick death. The Removal of a blot on the face of this land should solicit, I fear, cornet Mouthed angels to sound clarion of victory. If I was religious I should become a flagellant invigilate most excellent Flayed as the poacher would the pheasant. And the landowner would the poacher. Silence from both. I take a drought from my drink, she a small sip. She looks at me and I look a way. Do you want me to pay for this? She asks. Just the tip Quoth I. Another drought and a sip. Another. I break down. I have nothing to believe in, To believe in foul dogma to wash my soul of sin I find repugnant. Belief in Progress and people and The wonder of Nature is akin to praying to the inconstant sand Castle made by the hand of a passing child. Belief in my girlfriend! More my love’s greatest failure To grant her the care and affection she deserves Due to my sand castle of pride in which I do serve. And thus do I say, to purge all my lust There’s only one way, in Self-disgust I trust.
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Mar 24, 2014
Mar 24, 2014 at 4:42 PM UTC
XI. In Self-disgust I trust
all the **** from your mouth that you thought was inspiring slowly broke me down until my hope was expiring never opened my mouth to come back with inquiries just kept my head down and wrote my thoughts in a diary and you read it, pathetic, invading my privacy called me out for feigning sadness and my ‘bogus’ anxiety cause “im a better dad than mine so shut up and be quiet kid” “you’re lucky im the head of this dysfunctional dynasty” well congratulations dad, you’ve earned notoriety for forcing my respect in the form of compliancy and disbelieving science and the facts of psychiatry so i ran away from home to join the freaks of society where else could i escape from your emotional piracy?
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Aug 13, 2021
Aug 13, 2021 at 9:58 AM UTC
congratulations dad
The illuminati , a secret society Gain wealth, power and notoriety Sold soul to the devil for promised riches Many well known, his ******* Overtime, accidental glitches Secret is out due to young generation The up and coming population To catch the famous throwing up signs Subliminal message, invades our minds Television, campaigns...there's all kinds The power in the hands, you will never believe Throughout past ages the sickness breeds Many preach peace from the devils dark side Lennon, Dr. King, Malcolm all died Are Gods followers keen to the onset tide? With greed an power the dark one temps the meek Those that turn, are submissive and weak A few famous names in powerful places Obama, kennedys ....won there races Washington, Lincoln....two old faces All above, in this secret society Makes you ponder their priority One famous man that held great power Warned of illuminati ...Dwight D Eisenhower If you hate rap music you should give it a listen Little Wayne, JZ - surprised what your missin The Commander and Chief is given wide berth This society is strong on this earth If you think I'm crazy, which you surely will Google it....Youtube it......you'll get your fill
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
Secret Society
You don’t get anywhere in this world by stepping around eggshells, so don’t shut up until you’re up to your ankles in chicken abortions and notoriety.
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Mar 7, 2013
Mar 7, 2013 at 12:16 AM UTC
On accomplishment.
The Isle of Print What a place it can take you anyplace you can meet anyone I met Sandra Locke when she wrote about Her relationship then her break up with Clint she told about as a child how she sold pop bottles at a General store that was one that took me back but even more exciting was where she was at a place Called Shelbyville Tennessee I know it firsthand one reason it is seventy miles from Nashville and is the Tennessee walking horse capital and all so my wife was born and raised there until she was six we would Take trips there quiet often until two trips we carried her parents to the family cemetery on horse Mountain we have my wife’s brother fighting Leukemia he said thats where he wants to be buried but for Now God’s mercy is preventing that I met a guy and I’m sure you have met him many times also his Name is Samuel Clemens he got a little more famous name when he had one of his many jobs as a Mississippi River boat captain they called him just like when they measured the rivers depth mark twain he was a News paper editor in Calaveras County he brought a simple frog leaping contest national notoriety for Ever after known as the Calaveras bull frog jumping contest I bought three acres for retirement Unfortunately I made like a bull frog and jumped off the property I drove a truck several times into Hannibal Missouri you got a quick leap in your heart and head as you thought about the great river Running by and all of the characters Twain created two losses are recorded there of course twain met A fiery personage that was even greater than him a space traveler with a glory all together wondrous went by The name of Haley the other less known but my heart slows when I think of her eight years old blond Blue eyed her father’s and mother’s pride and joy he was a pastor in northern Illinois she lays in her Sacred rest in Hannibal until that great waking up day as time goes on I get less and less patient if it Weren’t for so many precious ones in danger I would be tempted to pray come Lord Jesus. Well not done By any means just going to stop for now plan on going and doing some hard thinking
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Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:27 PM UTC
The Isle of Print
The Isle of Print What a place it can take you anyplace you can meet anyone I met Sandra Locke when she wrote about Her relationship then her break up with Clint she told about as a child how she sold pop bottles at a General store that was one that took me back but even more exciting was where she was at a place Called Shelbyville Tennessee I know it firsthand one reason it is seventy miles from Nashville and is the Tennessee walking horse capital and all so my wife was born and raised there until she was six we would Take trips there quiet often until two trips we carried her parents to the family cemetery on horse Mountain we have my wife’s brother fighting Leukemia he said thats where he wants to be buried but for Now God’s mercy is preventing that I met a guy and I’m sure you have met him many times also his Name is Samuel Clemens he got a little more famous name when he had one of his many jobs as a Mississippi River boat captain they called him just like when they measured the rivers depth mark twain he was a News paper editor in Calaveras County he brought a simple frog leaping contest national notoriety for Ever after known as the Calaveras bull frog jumping contest I bought three acres for retirement Unfortunately I made like a bull frog and jumped off the property I drove a truck several times into Hannibal Missouri you got a quick leap in your heart and head as you thought about the great river Running by and all of the characters Twain created two losses are recorded there of course twain met A fiery personage that was even greater than him a space traveler with a glory all together wondrous went by The name of Haley the other less known but my heart slows when I think of her eight years old blond Blue eyed her father’s and mother’s pride and joy he was a pastor in northern Illinois she lays in her Sacred rest in Hannibal until that great waking up day as time goes on I get less and less patient if it Weren’t for so many precious ones in danger I would be tempted to pray come Lord Jesus. Well not done By any means just going to stop for now plan on going and doing some hard thinking
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22
(the birth of Christ - in Gen-Z slang) Mary and Joseph were tight-ship. Mary was a real-one, and no clout-chaser One night Angel Gabriel overstreeted with word that Cap-G made Mary chabby with soup-baby Mary was shook and big-mad but Joseph was baby-goggles for Cap-G’s quinlan fetus so Mary was “okrrrrrrrrr” A minute later Mary and Joe had to roll deep, adulting to Bethlehem with tribute to Augustus, the main character, but no mo-mo swerved em’ ghetto and asan Mary was Cap-G’s baby-mama! Later these bchaps rfts biters brang Cap-J some bag and herb to extra flex for Cap-G while angels lay in the cut with lowkey bop. ———————- translation Mary and Joseph were married and in love. Mary was an average girl not into notoriety . One night Angel Gabriel appeared and said that God made Mary pregnant with his child Mary was shaken-up and and angry but Joseph Was excited for them to have God’s beautiful child so Mary was had no choice but to say “OK” Months later Mary and Joe had to travel far together, As citizens, to Bethlehem to pay taxes to Augustus (Caesar). Emperor of rome, but a lack of motels caused them to Stay in a manger and there Mary had God’s child. Later these rich star followers brought Jesus some money and herb as gifts to impress God while angels gathered and sang to comfort the child.
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Dec 17, 2021
Dec 17, 2021 at 5:14 AM UTC
the nativity story (in slang)
Self-love; it’s such a concept and there’s no time for this nonsense from society, blabbing on about what size we should be. Open up a book, society’s view on how we should look, has changed so much but feel the contours of your own body under your touch. You’re beautiful. We want so badly so be accepted, and in that we’re all connected. But this image of beauty keeps shrinking, And it’s got me thinking, if we just accept each other we could get rid of these stereotypes that smother our uniqueness, and know our differences aren’t our weakness, but our strength. It’s in our power, to take charge and not cower at the harsh words of society and all their notoriety. Love how you look, and close society’s picture book.
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Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 8:38 PM UTC
Self-love.
I've experienced the exuberance of youth. Through endless summer days, of blissful childhood ignorance. I have drempt the most glorious dreams. The ability to soar with the eagles was mine, most any night. I was to live, forever. I have know the delirious intoxication, of boyish infatuation. And to such a degree, I have tasted the bitterness of rejection. I have lived amid nonconformists. I shared in their ideological beliefs. Old Guard be ****** I have witnessed the gatherings of idealists, who's main purpose was to spread their premise of the brotherhood of man. I have seen them chained and gagged. Beaten for their beliefs. Shot down in their youth, by those who's superficial dogmas kept them from the truth. I have been among the ranks of the tens of thousands, shouting my incensement's against a failing war. And I have been to the "wall" and wept for my fallen brothers.I have seen the rise of iconic performers. Some who would pay the ultimate price for their notoriety. I have felt the power of their karma and reveled in their idioms'. I have witnessed the miraculous wonder of birth. I've had the privilege to hold the embodiment of purity, God's ultimate creation, in the hollow of my arms. I have walked among the Angels. And I have delved into the pit of my own iniquity's. I have loved the un-loved, and scoffed at those who would be cherished. I have lived as if, there were no tomorrow. I have learned there is just today. I have lived to be a better man than I was. I live to be a better man than I am.
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Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
I have lived
I've experienced the exuberance of youth. Through endless summer days, of blissful childhood ignorance. I have drempt the most glorious dreams. The ability to soar with the eagles was mine, most any night. I was to live, forever. I have know the delirious intoxication, of boyish infatuation. And to such a degree, I have tasted the bitterness of rejection. I have lived amid nonconformists. I shared in their ideological beliefs. Old Guard be ****** I have witnessed the gatherings of idealists, who's main purpose was to spread their premise of the brotherhood of man. I have seen them chained and gagged. Beaten for their beliefs. Shot down in their youth, by those who's superficial dogmas kept them from the truth. I have been among the ranks of the tens of thousands, shouting my incensement's against a failing war. And I have been to the "wall" and wept for my fallen brothers.I have seen the rise of iconic performers. Some who would pay the ultimate price for their notoriety. I have felt the power of their karma and reveled in their idioms'. I have witnessed the miraculous wonder of birth. I've had the privilege to hold the embodiment of purity, God's ultimate creation, in the hollow of my arms. I have walked among the Angels. And I have delved into the pit of my own iniquity's. I have loved the un-loved, and scoffed at those who would be cherished. I have lived as if, there were no tomorrow. I have learned there is just today. I have lived to be a better man than I was. I live to be a better man than I am.
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16
987 The Leaves like Women interchange Exclusive Confidence— Somewhat of nods and somewhat Portentous inference. The Parties in both cases Enjoining secrecy— Inviolable compact To notoriety.
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2k
The Leaves like Women interchange
Sirens screaming in the distance, searching for a victim, a black man hiding in the shadows, running from his life's battles. Since the ripe age of fourteen, he went to school in pain and death, fond of the power of a weapon, and the ability to steal someone's breath. Taught that the only way to be, is the life of an O.G., the hood is all you got, that is until you are caught. In the jail the oppression continues, with the pigs up high, and the blacks down below, with this dynamic, the resentment will grow. When the victim is finally out, expected to fit into society, yet this setback put him on the wrong route, only seen for his notoriety. So who are we to blame him, when he sees stars within drugs, all his opportunities are now dim, pushing him back in with the thugs. We expect him to grow and move on, but the pressure on his head won't allow such bliss, the only way out is the way with the gun, such is the life when on the run.
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Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 12:59 AM UTC
Revolving Door
in my veins, these fiery flames, irritate like grains of forgotten names call me insane, but at least I maintain composure and refrain from strangling myself deranged even tho im convoluted, completely diluted and secluded from this polluted brainless blue *** i can't shake these blunders of wonders that wake me from my slumbers and asunder like lightening after thunder why is this society, full of variety, stuck on the wrong types of proprieties? to feed your satiety? to reach your notoriety? continue to lie to me. stream the feed on live t.v. the glamour of no individuality. convincing there's something wrong with me. straight faced frugality. absolutely no morality. they feed on the weak. while they silently weep. "beauty doesn't come cheap, so take the leap! buy now and don't be unique!" ******* grotesque! I'd rather rip my heart outta my chest than ingest that wretched mess. "beauty" is born not molded and formed from biohazard waste and paste. hows that plastic taste while you constantly baste your neighbors in hate. I can't wait til the day you meet fate.
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Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 6:34 AM UTC
in my veins
H-Helping himself to my pieces of treasure E-Escaping with them at his very own leisure P-Proper conduct he didn't see fit to follow I-Instantly skiving off with my creative property L-Largesse he stowed in his own log hollow F-Fruits of my mind purloined with impropriety E-Effectively his action's I now do swallow R-Round my territory he has a deal of notoriety S-Sound the bell his track I'll surely follow M-Mustn't let the old fellow espy my gold mine Y-Yonder he'll flee with its bright heaps of shine I-Ill gotten gains he has in his possession D-Down with the judge's gavel so says the law E-End his days of taking any possession A-Astute laws have sentenced his tut tut paws S-Shine from my work back in my possession
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Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
Back In My Possession (Acrostic Poem)
Lights! camera! action! Pretending that events are accidents Appointed laughter Framed gatherings Steady buffing Drawing Smearing Lathering Turn your face into a masterpiece And your fashion into a catastrophe Then your catastrophe into outcasting Take away normalcy then preach you blasphemy Then wonder "why are they after me" X then dotted line just says "that you're mine" It says "sign neatly" and "read briefly" And now that he's gone...your the repeat And if you leave...they gotta 3 peat *** will get you a check And if you thirsty for a disbursement... Burp out controversy And swallow grade A ******** You'll get applauded for being a first class fool Who didn't graduate But there's still fans who gravitate While your old class mates are still someone else's class mates The former students now have degrees The ones you call to design your foreign furnished mansion The ones sold you that million dollar car The ones you pay to fly your private jet The ones you pay to manage your career The ones who indict you for your drug possession The ones who over the counter prescribing you your addiction The ones who will do the incision to try and maintain your drunk liver Miss and mister They demand their respect Surviving grueling semesters The newly alumnus Will retire after they make a difference A difference for our children And by the time that your contract has ended all you talked about is killing Rims spinning Money getting Blunt twisting Liquor sickening Girls stripping Discharge sipping Jewelry glistening Superstition Stomach itching Teeth missing Thread stitching Eye twitching Thirst quenching I don't get it Albums full of insignificance ... But your not trippin' Because you won't fall as long as you don't walk when your boss tell you to crawl If you rock shows Wear clothes that you never chose If you pose to live a life that's another man's role You'll soon believe that you're not from this globe And you'll soon speak how satan stole your soul Everything you value is so extraneous And for that you're famous? So it's only one recipe If you wanna be a celebrity you must lose your integrity
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Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 6:36 AM UTC
Notoriety OR Morality
Lights! camera! action! Pretending that events are accidents Appointed laughter Framed gatherings Steady buffing Drawing Smearing Lathering Turn your face into a masterpiece And your fashion into a catastrophe Then your catastrophe into outcasting Take away normalcy then preach you blasphemy Then wonder "why are they after me" X then dotted line just says "that you're mine" It says "sign neatly" and "read briefly" And now that he's gone...your the repeat And if you leave...they gotta 3 peat *** will get you a check And if you thirsty for a disbursement... Burp out controversy And swallow grade A ******** You'll get applauded for being a first class fool Who didn't graduate But there's still fans who gravitate While your old class mates are still someone else's class mates The former students now have degrees The ones you call to design your foreign furnished mansion The ones sold you that million dollar car The ones you pay to fly your private jet The ones you pay to manage your career The ones who indict you for your drug possession The ones who over the counter prescribing you your addiction The ones who will do the incision to try and maintain your drunk liver Miss and mister They demand their respect Surviving grueling semesters The newly alumnus Will retire after they make a difference A difference for our children And by the time that your contract has ended all you talked about is killing Rims spinning Money getting Blunt twisting Liquor sickening Girls stripping Discharge sipping Jewelry glistening Superstition Stomach itching Teeth missing Thread stitching Eye twitching Thirst quenching I don't get it Albums full of insignificance ... But your not trippin' Because you won't fall as long as you don't walk when your boss tell you to crawl If you rock shows Wear clothes that you never chose If you pose to live a life that's another man's role You'll soon believe that you're not from this globe And you'll soon speak how satan stole your soul Everything you value is so extraneous And for that you're famous? So it's only one recipe If you wanna be a celebrity you must lose your integrity
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66
Introduction Burning pages Blood-red sky Rage of angels Days gone by The Chosen one, with eyes of searing flames Is opening the book of Living Names.... I The turning pages tell of lives gone by, Furled by the one whose eyes are blinding flames; Hot ashes flutter to the blood-red sky, Like burning souls of undeserving names. Where justice fails in life, death compensates: Rare Mercy brings the angel who redeems, While cruelty brings down avenging fates, Even if conscience sleeps throughout our dreams. The one with eyes of flame sees everything, His Book of Living Names is always fair; Yet every page frail as a fledgeling's wing - Tread carefully if your name is not there. There are but two volumes: one leads to light, The other leads to Hell, without respite. II He sat in shadows, working through the night; A scribe writing in words of ****** red, While brass lanterns imparted sickly light, As nightmare voices raged inside his head. And all the names of those forever doomed, Of future deaths and those of ancient past, Were on the page, committed and entombed In holy blood, scarlet and colour-fast. All those whom God shall cast into the flames, Unworthy of Heaven's forgiving grace Are ever here, in this Book of Dead Names - Named, numbered souls, each one bereft of face. Thus, all enjoying notoriety Shall be vanquished in anonymity. III Place copper coins over these weary eyes, Gather my gold around me in the tomb, Pray overlook transgression, all my lies, Cradle me unto death, as from the womb. Bury my silver at my lifeless feet, Burn sandalwood, utter my name in prayer, Drench me with nard and hyssop, bittersweet, Remember me with lilies in my hair. Pray write me in the Book of Living Names, God turn thy face from my iniquity; Spare me the flail, the pit of raging flames, But let the quiet waters carry me. Float me upon the Styx when I am gone; Erase me from the Necronomicon. NOTES: This was inspired by some of the startling imagery in The Book of Revelation from the Bible.
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Sep 2, 2009
Sep 2, 2009 at 11:47 AM UTC
The Book of Dead Names (sonnet trilogy)
Introduction Burning pages Blood-red sky Rage of angels Days gone by The Chosen one, with eyes of searing flames Is opening the book of Living Names.... I The turning pages tell of lives gone by, Furled by the one whose eyes are blinding flames; Hot ashes flutter to the blood-red sky, Like burning souls of undeserving names. Where justice fails in life, death compensates: Rare Mercy brings the angel who redeems, While cruelty brings down avenging fates, Even if conscience sleeps throughout our dreams. The one with eyes of flame sees everything, His Book of Living Names is always fair; Yet every page frail as a fledgeling's wing - Tread carefully if your name is not there. There are but two volumes: one leads to light, The other leads to Hell, without respite. II He sat in shadows, working through the night; A scribe writing in words of ****** red, While brass lanterns imparted sickly light, As nightmare voices raged inside his head. And all the names of those forever doomed, Of future deaths and those of ancient past, Were on the page, committed and entombed In holy blood, scarlet and colour-fast. All those whom God shall cast into the flames, Unworthy of Heaven's forgiving grace Are ever here, in this Book of Dead Names - Named, numbered souls, each one bereft of face. Thus, all enjoying notoriety Shall be vanquished in anonymity. III Place copper coins over these weary eyes, Gather my gold around me in the tomb, Pray overlook transgression, all my lies, Cradle me unto death, as from the womb. Bury my silver at my lifeless feet, Burn sandalwood, utter my name in prayer, Drench me with nard and hyssop, bittersweet, Remember me with lilies in my hair. Pray write me in the Book of Living Names, God turn thy face from my iniquity; Spare me the flail, the pit of raging flames, But let the quiet waters carry me. Float me upon the Styx when I am gone; Erase me from the Necronomicon. NOTES: This was inspired by some of the startling imagery in The Book of Revelation from the Bible.
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54
It's funny what people are willing to ignore when you have notoriety, wealth and power under your belt.
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Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 12:52 PM UTC
Blind
I. Letter 1 You write of sitting in the cold of anxiety about your grant not coming & how you lonely you are & how you'll send the money for those jeans of yours she paid for not wanting to come between her & her mother & of the growing distance between you such a poor, proud country boy unwilling, still to give up on what all see as a crazy dream & talking of emigration & how you couldn't find the book she wanted in the shops, for it was sold out A letter to your English girlfriend never sent & poignant all the more for it I.I Letter 2 You write of your concern for us, my mother & me, praying we have enough to eat saying you wish you were there to stand in hopeless Russian food queues for us and how hard it is to be so helpless You talk of shouting on the phone & how you didn't mean to do it & of how love and pain are two sides of the same coin & how when you & my mother talk you never say anything much, just talk about the Museum & dinosaur bones & how mad this is, how wrong my mother would say those bones were your reason for your so-called love that she should have seen the naked ambition in your eyes that of a man used to poverty, reaching for more aiming for notoriety, whilst lying of love I.I.I Letter 3 You call my mother ' Princess' (my mother doesn't know this is cliche) & talk of British superstitions such as black cats being unlucky & ask why Russians think asking for photographs of people is unlucky a superstition my mother doesn't recall when I ask her about it now Black cats, is that why I ended up in hospital in Britain in a land of the free robbed of my freedom because we had a black cat? I always thought them lucky, adhering to the Russian superstition I guess I might have been wrong back then you talked of emigration of wanting to move to Russia to be with us I.V Letter 4 I can mostly only imagine it from my mother's words your letter to her who was 23 named ' Lily' after the flower of death bringing the death of our family She calls you ' Day-Day' like your youth's English girlfriend in your mid-life crisis you've turned into a poet & are talking of your secret love & nursing memories of love-bites all else is dust & forgotten you'd later cry on the Chinese hotel bed in front of your wife, my mother ' how can I refuse these offerings' & eleven years go by occasionally we talk on the phone it's something you don't deserve
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Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 1:43 PM UTC
Love Letters
I. Letter 1 You write of sitting in the cold of anxiety about your grant not coming & how you lonely you are & how you'll send the money for those jeans of yours she paid for not wanting to come between her & her mother & of the growing distance between you such a poor, proud country boy unwilling, still to give up on what all see as a crazy dream & talking of emigration & how you couldn't find the book she wanted in the shops, for it was sold out A letter to your English girlfriend never sent & poignant all the more for it I.I Letter 2 You write of your concern for us, my mother & me, praying we have enough to eat saying you wish you were there to stand in hopeless Russian food queues for us and how hard it is to be so helpless You talk of shouting on the phone & how you didn't mean to do it & of how love and pain are two sides of the same coin & how when you & my mother talk you never say anything much, just talk about the Museum & dinosaur bones & how mad this is, how wrong my mother would say those bones were your reason for your so-called love that she should have seen the naked ambition in your eyes that of a man used to poverty, reaching for more aiming for notoriety, whilst lying of love I.I.I Letter 3 You call my mother ' Princess' (my mother doesn't know this is cliche) & talk of British superstitions such as black cats being unlucky & ask why Russians think asking for photographs of people is unlucky a superstition my mother doesn't recall when I ask her about it now Black cats, is that why I ended up in hospital in Britain in a land of the free robbed of my freedom because we had a black cat? I always thought them lucky, adhering to the Russian superstition I guess I might have been wrong back then you talked of emigration of wanting to move to Russia to be with us I.V Letter 4 I can mostly only imagine it from my mother's words your letter to her who was 23 named ' Lily' after the flower of death bringing the death of our family She calls you ' Day-Day' like your youth's English girlfriend in your mid-life crisis you've turned into a poet & are talking of your secret love & nursing memories of love-bites all else is dust & forgotten you'd later cry on the Chinese hotel bed in front of your wife, my mother ' how can I refuse these offerings' & eleven years go by occasionally we talk on the phone it's something you don't deserve
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Happy 4th of July America. You are pointed out for more wrong than good. Except, the good outweighs the bad. Like any marriage someone in? There perspectives in our past that distract. But the goal of marriage is to create happiness. But what one flag? Stands out at strength. We still the country others turns to when ruled by dictators. Sure, we far from perfect under this one flag with the whites stars and three colors. And achieving more notoriety by the border. We aware no other one flag get cut down constantly. Everyone has an opinion seated on the sideline on what this country should be? Yes, even me. We have love. We have kindness. We have rights. We have some independence. More than other countries on earth. And they have one flag. Ruled religiously by males rulers. Under their one flag, women are a tool. Abused more their but they don't have a corner on that. Yes, even in America. We see men trying to dictate governing females rights to do. Then many with power always end up abusing authority too. Our one flag outrank others here. If you fly Confederate flags. There's no power there. We operate under the strength of one flag. If you fly an Islamic flag? Or the Cuban flag? That just heritage pride. Cause when it comes to court justice? It's under one flag. And that's the American flag. Even when justice goes wrong? What other countries? Gives you the rights to fight on?
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Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 11:34 AM UTC
One Flag
I am scant a savant and know it I do I am just a wannabe poet A shrew a devotee of Poe and others I wish for their talent And notoriety At a loss for words Occasionally I just Go ahead And make them up Dream up a verb Ending in q or a noun with no subject I do And shame is a good Descriptive word Adjective or adverb I think I am sane As I digress nightly into a colored light fest Of  was crayoned flesh On the canvas
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Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 1:44 AM UTC
Orgyness
they didn't think anyone had a clue or knew but what they were doing was well on view their secret rendezvouses were not so secret they were like clothes airing out of the closet they had a little liaison in the local park they were kissing and hugging just on dark the lady at the post office saw them in an embrace when they spotted her they did an about face they've been having a clandestine affair and of this fact her husband isn't aware she is a woman of so called propriety he's the local stud of much notoriety the village grape vine is working at full capacity telling of the lover's out and out audacity relationships such as the one in this narrative are commonplace where us country folk live
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Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 6:07 PM UTC
The Affair (Narrative Poem)
Body lights and the obtuse A crooked branch acting Quickly as a noose detracting In alumnus' eyes and trepidation The all too obscene becomes normality A fallacy of epic notoriety Drawn to conspiracy and altruism And banality Fools' boring ruse And tumble Fatality
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Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 12:00 AM UTC
Hazardous by cp