"offenses" poems
the rude gesture when one seeks the inelegant simplicity of
no words;
no words
suffice to say,
magnitude of some offenses requires physicality;
a physicality that injures nothing but the
surrounding atmosphere of
its pride
for it’s pride
that goeth before the fall,
the pursuit of dishonor and dishonoring,
given that,
it shames the giver as much if not more so
dishonor
for words are our truest masters
I'd rather you gave a round shout out of
**** you,
for as the parents say these days
use your words
rather than show me your
nail chewed runty midfielder
ah, words...I do so love them beasties
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 1:00 PM UTC
Evil & crime so predictable & stale.
Stupid how arrested suspects get bail.
Convicted when their victims tell.
Prison is where some stay & are jailed.
They have to communicate by mail.
Sometimes their focus goes in another direction.
Where probation happens after correction.
Child & spousal abuse, drug use, & rehab that is no use.
History repeats
Wives & children still get beat.
Their isn't always a Superman or Batman to be your hero.
With a sword or crossbow.
Details of armed robbery , drug dealing & smuggling.
Stabbings & muggings.
On the inside homosexual love with cuddling.
Human trafficking & prostitution.
Violating amendments & constitutions.
They are how they are from how they were raised.
If their victims could speak from the grave
Or had they been saved.
They could explain & describe how their rapists & killers behaved.
Male & females do their time.
Years in custody for their crimes.
Seriousness of their offenses vary.
Some educate, get jobs, or marry.
Behind bars is where violence belongs.
To be punished for all that they did wrong.
Some from death row are now dead.
Similar to the wildlife in a zoo behind bars they get fed.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
Please remember to break me gently
Take your sharp tongue and slice me tenderly
With your offenses destroy me lovingly
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 10:27 AM UTC
Why do I love to
Peel the skin off my sunburn?
Such satisfaction!
Gross it is I know.
But it is like when you start
Healing: chuck the past.
The dead skin itches.
It's annoying and useless.
Peel it off--new skin.
Old wounds--offenses--
Keep us irritated, mad,
Instead of thriving.
Peeling dead skin is
Satisfactory because
Then I get new skin.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:22 PM UTC
Rendered offenses
Sweat in the opinion, sakes
And due attention, to reason amends
Acting only a little saner, the stark stare a host makes...
Do you notice, evermore?
Anyway, the truth we prepose of...
Has a callous beginning, too sore
For a challenge of wisdom, that even does?
Prayers of dour anger...
For the aspire and means we favor
With a realm to a touch, tough knowing you and life's danger...
The reality of another fight, with sin as the futures flavor?
Speed has a question, dwindling in the wind
Suspect days, to redoubt and list the scope of an argument
That has the silence we afforded it, to keep the shadows of kin
Proper is as proper had, the hush of simple tomorrows, a problem to relent...
Toward sharing, the taste of a hoping kiss...?
That when recognized, sympathy is an answer; only a heed can tell...
The prayer of estrangement, has become a chastity's wish
Will a savior in love, know the better of kindness; here's your hell...
With a baring lip, that has suggested a toothsome reply to quips
And hearts to accept the solace of terror, a harrowing finish to past lies...?
That began and ended with a promise found in the bolting and gray wits
Of a dread simplicity, still running to wisdom's charity, which requited...
Sep 21, 2023
Sep 21, 2023 at 8:55 PM UTC
i will try to deprive myself of you, to distant myself from you
i will try not to look at you too much nor initiate a conversation with you
i will try not to mind how you look nor to mind how you speak
i will try to resist breaking your wall; to resist trying to approach whenever i see you online or alone
i will try to look at what's bad about you - your inability to be true to yourself of what you really feel, to your coldness, your indifference, your offenses
i will try to ignore you each day in hopes that i will not hope for you
i will try to calm my heart whenever i see your messages on my phone or whenever you're near
i will try not to admire your music taste, your smarts
i will try not to think of you nor dream about you at night
i will try not to sneak a peek
i will try to protect my heart from you
i will try to hate you really hard
but please
don't go looking at me, too
with those gentle eyes of yours
it makes all of these futile if i catch you checking on me too
you're a tease boy, don't make this so hard on me
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 9:44 PM UTC
“You must taste your words before you speak”
She said, with the sweetest smile
Always consider the feelings of those around you
Let them rest on your tongue awhile
Do not be so quick to claim your bitter offenses
When others behave annoyingly
The truth is, you may be being too sensitive
She said, looking straight at me
There are some who are forceful and opinionated
With powerfully strong personalities
Do not ever let them mistreat you, protect yourself
Using your wisdom of tact, gracefully
Some will walk the line between being assertive
And overstepping their bounds
If you will deal with them using your softest nature
The rewards you reap are better, I’ve found
*For Linda
Aug 11, 2010
Aug 11, 2010 at 6:05 PM UTC
I've been here before
So much so that all I can do is grin
Grin at the fact that I've yet to learn my lesson
Or maybe I just have bad luck
After repeated offenses I can't be upset
Nor can I cry or **** God
All I can do is grin, sigh and think
Think about what I attract and how I've come to this
Emotionally unavailable yet willing to risk it all for the one?
Are these men a mirror image of me and I of them?
I want you
The one that has no time
The one that is selfish
The one that acts like he doesn't care or doesn't act just really doesn't
The one that just got out of a situation therefore "needs" time
To be bitter and naive? I don't have the energy
These mirrors don't lie
And until I learn my lesson will these mirrors then die
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 5:40 PM UTC
**All Hours of the Night
you get it by now...
I'm no ordinary dude
I'm the Guardian
I vouched for you
and if I don't make you accountable for this mess;
you were quick to stick the puppies face in it
because she's gotta learn right "you know how ******* get"
a moment of weakness you've called it
crawling back now on the same bended knee
you take to to pray about it...
on the same bended knee you take to to take him
and you kiss your kids with that mouth
how irresponsible it would be of me
to not post your offenses
tough love
or tough talk
which one are you
I'ma go with my gut
because you said to... I'm paraphrasing
"always take a ***** at her word"
we set better examples here
so I'ma put your nose in the wet spot
and as for your performance;
I gotta give it up
kudos
standing o
but I can't wait around for the encore
and I can't wait to write your review
and now when it's aching
and everything smells like me
clenching won't do;
fistfuls of your bed spreads
feel like your back is breaking
but no more O's for you
miss it
All Hours of the Night
you're supposed to
do you miss him like that too
oscar - nominee
my crown is your crown now
that's how we felt we were supposed to get down
for the rest of
however long the rest of
turns out to be
there's never been a language ever spoken
or scripture ever inked on how we move
because it's a given here
where we quietly defend the dynasty
inside these gates
outside ourselves
and between me and the walls
haven't you been nervous for no good reason
haven't you missed the butterflies
because you still can't wait to see me
we came in undersized
but your crown was my crown now
because you know good and well
that's my breath
when a breeze leaves just a tease of warm air
under there
and because you love butterflies
wasn't *** better than ***
fascinating **** huh… me
like you didn't know before now
and now that yearn
can't be made well by any earthborn figure
outside these gates
or inside you
and only between me and the walls
there's been no language assigned
we still can't pronounce it
but it's called love no matter your accent
or if you speak in tongue
fight it
All Hours of the Night
it's tiring
and you're weak
I give it a week
before you come crawling back
on the same bended knee
you take to pray about it
and to take him
you kiss your kids with that mouth
I am no ordinary dude
I'm the Guardian
I vouched for you
codefendants
love is war
I thought you understood our plight
I have to make you accountable for this mess;
you gotta learn "you know how ******* get."
how irresponsible it would be of me
to not post your offenses
tough love
or tough talk
which one are you
it's okay to miss me
you're supposed to
do you miss him like that too...**
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
I know I'll miss these times once they're sung
The days are busy when they're so young
Little ones that pull on skirts,
Teeny ones held in your shirt
Selflessness we must meet, in order to be built
Recline in the sun's heat, spring flowers bloom and wilt
Everything in its time, these moments will pass
Change another bedsheet, sacrifice and submit
Slow and let your eyes meet, let these sweet moments sit
Everything in its time, these moments will pass
A love so natural, it will not be ignored
It flurries us to higher places and with the air it swings
A love so natural, it demands to be poured
So deep it actually aches, singing sweetly while it stings
Offenses laughable, their silly peccadillos I secretly smile at
Yet they are teachable, I'll raise them to face the world and evil to combat
Innocent little transgressions
My dearest little possessions
I rebuke, I correct, the love goes on, I'll cherish our time while here
Time feels ensconced, but with the dawn, our time will have disappeared
Jun 7, 2024
Jun 7, 2024 at 2:12 AM UTC
When I stooped to pick up the scattered
Pieces of the shattered glass
You so angrily threw in the vicinity
Of my head when I was thirteen years old
All I could think about was
How much I loved you and couldn't leave.
When I bent over to still the throbbing
Pain behind my ribs
You so angrily punched vigorously
As I collapsed at the foot of the stairs,
All I could think about was
How much I loved you and couldn't leave.
When I silently accepted the meted out
Punishment of lash after leather lash
For a crime I might've committed
But certainly didn't fit the excess discipline,
All I could think about was
How much I loved you and couldn't leave.
When I watched over your sleeping form
As you dreamt of a life far away
From the accumulated griefs and offenses
Which eventually incited you to go,
All I could think about was
How much I loved you and couldn't leave.
How much I loved you and couldn't leave.
Loved was always past tense.
Leave was always on my mind.
Eventually, neither of us did the loving,
But you did the leaving.
Yet I find myself stuck in this same
Train of Thought:
How much I loved you and couldn't leave.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 5:30 PM UTC
No one tenders their own opinions anymore,
They just succumb to a majority.
Seeking enlightenment,
Punishable offenses of opening eyes.
Everyone is a vessel,
Filling themselves with the "right words,"
Rhetoric chains them in ignorance live on television.
They've snuffed out the flame,
We let them,
Because you listen and never speak.
Because you fear thought,
Fear isolation.
Free thought as a weapon,
Free speech as a banner,
Free people as a rebellion.
Challenge me then,
And challenge each other,
That we may more respect one another.
Not that they agree but that they contribute,
To a nobler enterprise,
Of living to offend our brothers.
If the world is moving forward,
But we are all still the same,
Can you call it progress?
It's a regress to nothingness.
We're void of conviction,
Apt to choose sides,
But not to make tides,
When we create a new one.
At chaos is peace when we disagree,
Seek peace in discord,
Seek agreement,
But never resolve it.
Dissolving ourselves,
And what we should hold dear,
Is when we lose ourselves,
When we dwell in fear.
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 5:53 AM UTC
It's been almost a year since the apprehension.
Almost a year since they grabbed me off the highway
With their assumptions and lies.
Guilty until proven innocent is how they view you on the street.
It might be a different story in the courtroom,
However,
Out on the desolate interstate there's not much one can do
To keep them from infiltrating your right to privacy.
What is privacy anyway? Does it even exist anymore?
A few simple clicks can open up one's entire life;
Locations, relatives, work history, criminal record.
And on the highway,
All it takes is a few simple lies;
*Do you know how fast you were going?
What's that smell? Please step out of the car, sir.*
And shortly thereafter I was on my way to the lovely
Tooele County Detention Center.
I was afraid at first...
Never having been to jail before.
But I think what I feared the most was having to face my parents.
I knew full well how disappointed they'd be.
I knew full well how they'd do everything in their power to get me out,
Despite the fact I was comfortable and relatively safe.
Nothing could prepare me for the onset of tears I could literally see over the phone...
And I haven't seen them since...
My parents, that is.
I think about how much of a burden I've been on them over the years...
Racking up piles of juvenile offenses;
Underage consumption of alcohol;
Underage possession of marijuana;
Underage possession of tobacco;
Operating without a license;
Operating while suspended;
You can't park here, you ******* idiot - give us your stupid money.
What is there to be proud of in that?
Is this how I repay the people who brought me into this world?
Yet they bear no grudge--
Only love.
Perhaps I should reconsider my line of work...
Dec 9, 2012
Dec 9, 2012 at 8:41 PM UTC
It's mind versus defenses
Nowhere near consensus
Except that something is wrong in the offenses.
My memory is burning away
Strained and begging to stay
Rarely able to remember what happened yesterday.
I can't do this forever
It's a detriment to me and her
And it's destroying me for sure.
There's no way to apologize
For this situation's size
Because I'm under that much disguise.
There's no turning back this time
The decisions have been all mine
And it's the time for me to shine.
Only in the light of a liar
And I've already began to tire
But I swear no one will see my desire.
No, no one could even try;
As they believe the lie
They'll never see how much I really want to die.
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Traditional advertising dollars avoid a table. But Title award for women's rights of women and climate change. Religion well and live well to meet the right of the people and the rights of Aristotle. But now man. I have a son of his right to work? It's not really a plan. For the full price, it was money, the Chinese, in China, the Chinese New Year at the same time in the life of the family, learned. 1 Samuel ***** little spit at each mass empty mass of cold vacuum mother of the bride with the holy family sacrifice communist society Press Promociones young children Sand | . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Mom and Europe, with the best water flint wife and amino acids. Jordan is potentially a powerful storm Roberts Jammu Asia, Iran and Russia saw the beauty in London. Nigeria decided to establish a new high. My son and the mother long sleep dreams will come to you immediately to get into the bedroom of your mail. Peter, Peter and two other offenses, Tiger Hill saga. Net navy Borough of law. The drug is nonsense! . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . You're just a pain in the ancient history of olives documenting the medical industry in the United States George W. boyfriend, so Susie ... "private" and "good" and the American Fortune soil Eaton means 'God' to use for everyone pain in the UK this matter many times ... "3. George George, defense and security, but this is less than 1 tablespoon" well ... "in the law." President George really touched people, how to decide capability mosquitoes, since it takes George 1, 1 heard that it is not safe, because joy, "Eaton Square in the classrooms, the president of the Citadel, George believing that they are cooked in several suffered greatly as this year the worst and this is what my father Security Council, which is effectively the age of commercially Georgia and destroy India, an actor, but not science. "... and a female pony in the United States, for example, in the United States, Eton, Georgia, because I think that this will happen, "Eaton tree 1, 1, before many hours each year in late winter oil 1, which is all in all, the good and the beautiful and receiver, prostitutes and prostitutes ********** and endangered many years .. . "at the end of poverty, the result of a series of laws and brothers, and its potential is another element to the story, George, in 1 |||||| ||| ¯¯¯¯¯¯ | ¯ | |||| || | l |||| |||||||||| ¯ ||| ||||||||||||||||||| || ||||||||||||| | ||| || || ||| | |||| ||||||||| | ||||||||||| ||||| | ||| | | ||||||||||||||| ||| ||||||||| |||||||||||||||| |||||| || | 2 ||| ||| || | |||||| | || | ||||||||||| ||||| | ||| | || | ¯ .. ¯¯¯¯¯¯ |||||| || | ||| 2 ||| ¯ | ||||||||||||| | ||||||||||| |||| | | ||| | ||||||||| |||||| || ||||||||||||| |||||||||||||||| |||||| || ||| || || ||| |||| ¯ l | | | ||||||||||||| | | ||||||||| ||||| | ||| | || |||||||||||||||||||||||| || | |||||||||||||||| | ||||| | | ||| | ||||||||||||| . ...... .... . . . . ¯ ... .. ..... ¯¯¯¯¯¯. . ¯ .. the |||| . . . . .... ...... .... ... ................ ........ .... . 2 .. ||| ¯¯. ........ ..... .. the |||| ¯¯. ........ . ..... .... ... ............... ......... .... ... ........ ...... .... ... . ........ .... . ¯ .. the |||| . . .... . ¯ .. the |||| . ... .... . .. the |||| ¯¯. ... . ¯ .. the |||| . . ¯ .. ..
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
Welcome, sir, and get up to the last dance.
Not my fault - you made the choice when you went through the entrance.
Have a little bit of patience, though,
I'm in demand on this masquerade.
Oh, how the lights flicker, see? And the shadows spoil my senses.
That's a tad senseless of you to get on my nerves - offensive...
But I understand the sentiment, you are restless,
Well, I never let you close your eyelids once you drop the curtains.
All the offenses a gentleman like you keeps in his memories,
You are a cancer to the working class.
Your defense is - you desired to be wealthy.
Have a glass of gin, your mouth seems filthy.
The oppression you have built, indeed
Needed a mastermind, alike to mine
A nine to five would not be fine for us.
The masses abiding us; we even control the foreigners.
Please observe my lovely smile,
This balet - stand on your toes and prance around.
Like the puppet on the strings I have pulled a thousand times.
Are you sure you are worthy to see through my disguise?
Pardon me, sir, henceforth
I'm your conscience, the one you have cancelled
Hidden in the stacks of gold
But the truth is, a soul can't be sold.
Weep, my dear, in quiet sorrow.
For us, as it turns out, there is no tomorrow.
The combination of ***** and alcohol
Is known of being thorough.
All this injustice you have caused
Was working on the time you had borrowed.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 8:04 AM UTC
Between you, me, and everyone in this society
I am not currently smoking leaves or burning trees
But if I was puffing up smoke like the Beatles
Eric Clapton, Bob Dylan, and Bob Marley did
Not snorting coke like our former president
But if I lit up at home when I was alone to get ******
If I had a pound or more of natural plant goods
The kind that Mother Nature made with her green wisdom
The kind that help chemo’s patients and other victims
Of social, physical, emotional, and spiritual ailments
It is not the state’s or the patrolmen’s business
They shouldn’t get me locked up then put me on parole
Then on some list so I can’t get government assistance
When I was just trying to ease life’s tension
And I have to mention we need freedom
From prison as a profit type business
Locking up children for drug offenses
Turning young men into harden criminals
While people making a hundred grand or more
Do not get punished for their narcotics store
Cops keep picking on the poor when they should hunt for
White supervisors who run and ruin other people’s lives
Those punk mother ****** telling lies
Using the law to steal other people’s houses and pensions
Making drug offenses look like a pittances
But the poor have poor defenses
And the rich ***** our lives like it is a business
Because it is their business to make money from our suffering
So why don’t they go on a hunt for the white rich ***** punk
And leave the poor *** smoking people alone
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
Listening to “The Chieftains” again,
Their Long Black Veil CD: a gift to
Marijuana smokers. N'est-ce pas?
**** Jagger singing the title track,
A sweet, lugubrious ode to black widows.
Could there be such creatures?
Women you would **** for,
Offing your best friend for?
She had better be as good as it gets.
Could such women exist?
Beautiful & toxic;
Duplicitous, cunning,
Cunnilingus-worthy.
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**** would have licked her **** as
They led him up the scaffold steps,
She was a woman worth dying for, to be sure.
And Sinéad Marie Bernadette O'Connor?
Isn’t it time we forgave her?
So she shaved her head.
So she shredded the Pope’s photo on SNL.
He was, after all, the Polish Pope,
The one that kissed the ground
Whenever he got off an airplane.
How could you not love the guy?
Shot while riding in his Pope Mobile,
He later visited Mehmet Ali Ağca in prison,
Forgiving his would-be assassin face-to-face,
Exonerating the Bulgarian kreplach, for all
Special Victims Unit “especially heinous offenses” &
Proto-Islamic terror.
Surely, he could forgive the little Irish ****
Can’t we? Leading by example?
I don’t know what you’d call it.
In any language: powerful.
Oh, Sinead, my sweet Sinead,
We miss your sweet sad dulcet tones.
Consider yourself exonerated.
Consider yourself free to be loved again.
And let’s not forget Tom Jones,
Come on ladies: you threw your sopping
Wet ******* to the stage for him.
His “Tennessee Waltz” breaking my heart,
Losing my wife to my best friend.
No wonder I shot the Sheriff.
Surprised I did not also shoot the Deputy.
And “The Chieftains” themselves,
Transporting us to the Coast of Malabar.
We are all Irish sailors
Infatuated, hopelessly enchanted by a
Swarthy Dravidian shiksa.
May 5, 2017
May 5, 2017 at 5:05 PM UTC
Every spiritual wound is filled with little dawning cracks. It seems that actions and consequences no longer have a beginning or an end; how and how can they be connected to the Respite Times?! As if the questions you have decided or just wanted to ask could simply be thrown into a gaping abyss with a final will. A drowning need would drive one person after another to seek not only the light-blooded joys of being, but also the lawful security of the Soul, because even newborn words cannot be licked up by the mother tongue. The ebb and flow of the tides regularly leave their footprints here in the solidified whirlpools of Existence, intended as testimony.
More and more people would ask inquiringly:
"How is it possible that a person is homeless even in his beating heart, when he has a Beloved who cherishes him like an angel and comforts him?!" - There is no answer, or perhaps there was none. The cross-section of the faces has always been scratched by the retained pearls.
As if everything grows back behind those who have crossed the green border without return. Man gets further and further from himself, yet inside he goes deeper and deeper, to find what he has always been looking for in the Odyssey of knowledge; for he is both a prisoner and a sucker, who has let himself be consciously exploited, in every case it is necessary to defy misunderstandings, the cowardly feeling capitulates. A stifled reproach - that is not much - and the whole World is ready to sweep the many sins, offenses, and filth under the rug.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 12:46 AM UTC
One eye lined a rippling void in our favor
Two lights aimed to dither coherence astray
A spark may be one
A pyre, another
Two methods by which we may aptly narrate
These volumes which artifice rendered impassive
Some lifetimes ago
As if carved out of stone
Upon faces that masons could not replicate
We taxed ourselves harsh by indulging old spirits
But graver the crime was to give them a name
The deepest transgression of all, incorporeal
Our memories in the end gave us away
Yes, nostalgia seeps in through the gaps in our logic
To shepherd the currents beneath those blue waves
As if tides could be altered by such visitation
And oceans stood frozen with forces concealed by
Some gravities borne of celestial weight
Reluctant to wake and depart Colorado
My surrogate mother
Our canvas to paint
Expressions whipped dry by the skirt of her leather
And eardrums wrung pierced by the crags and the scree
If I leave now this portal may vanish forever
I could leave my sins here in the chill of the Springs
Release them down mineshaft chutes long since abandoned
In futile attempts to abscond the unclean
And rise to leave haunts of offenses unstated
To come crawling back from the dead
Southbound with me
Hold out, I was told
With arms to receive
You'll make sure to keep your hands steady for me
I'm soaked to the core with my soul and voice breaking
With eyes for your heart and its formless cascade
And my pail with dozens of holes to redeem
An abundance of squalls brewed behind both those seams
The light crosses your path
And you won't look away
When I question by which laws such mirrors are made
And it all seems so cruel that we're drawn here to suffer
To be teased and transfixed by what glimmers remain
I can drum up what strengths I have left to ignite you
I'll shout even louder when you forget your name
I'll relearn every way that I've known how to love you
But we're taught to process what we cannot maintain
Yes, our hearts are irreparably torn in this way
Sep 23, 2016
Sep 23, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
Upside down in the void.
Annoyed by priests and
politicians who feast at
the trough of the ignorance
of mankind, blind to the
devastation their righteous
proclamations heap upon
Eden’s polluted shore.
Babylon’s ***** holds firm
their fate in her celestial grasp.
Standing before perdition’s
impartial flame, the liar,
the killer, and salvation's thief...
Dante’s imagination could not
conceive a suitable torment for
your lamentable offenses.
Jun 25, 2011
Jun 25, 2011 at 9:07 PM UTC
This is a short poetic/politic statement. Those in power understand that the pen is mightier than the sword. Where is this pen located? Somewhere between my tongue and two lips. When the words I speak are met with much public approval; that is power. So if I want to maintain my power in the eyes of "My Public" I am going to give your ears what I know they want to hear. Having absorbed all this, you'll be able to better understand the context upon which this article was written.
What the politicians do best--- Courting World Opinion
News is used to justify their views
Understanding political objectives
Controlling minds with disinformation
Letting us think everything is under control
Ending all major offenses on a positive note
Allowing for personal agendas to be camouflaged
Reinforcing a supremacy and will of might, that once (upon a time) really existed
Winning all of their objectives, in the marketplace of world opinion
Attempting to represent the people, having been promoted from rank of attorney
Reinventing the theory of a believing public, despite years of promoting misinformation campaigns to pursue hidden goals
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
I write words
which are guilty by association
a biased vanity
a weakened proclamation
a rhyming confession
vaguely detailed obsession
which preys upon my idle mind
occupying my excess time
if I could just
relish
this coffee scented existence
like Marley I won't wait in vain
my character was built
on inconsistent persistence
with all of my offenses
its no wonder you present such resistance
hesitance for an obvious reference
midnite will arrive on its own terms
may it come in waves
I'm emotionless and starved
hoping for the best and the rest is reality
its a stoic majestic bleak perspective
resplendence can't be bought with a sixpence
when innocence is subjective
acutely disputed and often refuted
everybody is down on their knees
echoes throughout empty halls
empty hearts exposed to loosely associated truths
and poorly conceived metaphors
a malcontent in mismatched boots
equally disinterested with
the feelings and good intentions
or any other invention of idle minds
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC
Uncertainties arise every look:
of doubt, of despise, of madness...
... of fury, of aggression and of extermination.
Offenses are spat out
by similares mouths
to those of whom the words
strike so cruelly.
Too pure for me;
this reality is too terrible.
It makes me die blind of facts
– acts on behalf of peace:
false, inconvenient... and ordinary peace!
Men **** each other every day,
but they never did it so ruthlessly
as they do currently. And all is so insensitive.
I doubt a lot of our hearts.
Reflections are what I have left,
because I'm too fragile to change.
And I don't wanna lose myself in this world
neither I wish to write about its reality.
Too crazy for us;
this thought is too inhuman.
It makes me cry because of acts
– facts told by a bloke:
irreal, stale... and poetic bloke!
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 5:32 PM UTC