"opposed" poems
A friend of mine walked up to me and asked me: "What is a good woman?"
I replied "you would know if you were a good man"
He said "Stop joking I really wanna know"
"There is no definite answer, but when you meet one, it will show"
There are many characteristics that make a good woman, but it would take days to speak them all
Since my friend brought this to mind, I thought I would list a few for y'all
A woman who is proud of what she brings
and won't complain over petty things
A woman who is well spoken and not opposed to listening
because communication is key from the beginning
A woman who is wise and able to realize
the pit you are in doesn't matter because she will help your rise
A woman who wouldn't try to control her man but also wouldn't be a doormat
And when trouble comes up, her feet won't be flat (she's ready to go)
A woman who never stops believing in the man that you are and the man you can become
So much confidence in you, it almost makes her seem dumb
A virtuous woman who prays for you more than she prays for herself
Remembering God is number one above all else
A woman who tries to pay for herself before you can offer
Knowing the difference between selfless and selfish is something you should prefer
A woman with the power of forgiveness
But don't abuse it
Because a good woman is not stupid
She will lose it
You will lose her and have no one to blame when your heart takes the hit
If you hurt a good woman, in my eyes, you aren't worth the saliva I spit
The ice cream no one would lick
The one that gets thrown down in hope ants would leave a picnic
To pick apart your existence
Use your common sense
Realize what's in front of you and cherish it
Woman is the title a female receives at a certain age
But it takes a good man to realize a good woman is on the next page
I'm not saying a good woman needs to have this quote for quote
I don't think any woman does, if so, let me know
I haven't met any besides my family, but I don't go down that road
I'm being patient, waiting for my good woman is giving me time to grow
So I can give her the best Brandon Everett Davis, the world doesn't know
To not be on their level, would be a sin
Let's become better men for these good women
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
My sexuality is that 1990's ice cream flavor
Lost to time, but something I no longer seek to savor
My *** is that 1777 font
Pretty to look at, but nothing I want
My sexuality is found in the not-places, of memory
My sexuality is not *** and is not celibacy
My sexuality is defined by my individuality
My sexuality is not a catalyst for my morality
My sexuality is my not-sex
My sexuality is not-ever as opposed to not-yet
My sexuality means
My sexuality is mine
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
I wonder how you feel getting your hands tangled in her long blonde hair as opposed to my raven black hair and if there was a difference between you telling her she was yours when you were drunk, as opposed to you taking me to have dinner with your family when you were sober. and I wonder if I sit outside your bedroom window and burn through enough cigarettes while you’re in there with her, it’ll burn your memory out of my mind. Maybe the cigarettes would **** me before you could.
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 6:47 PM UTC
I am not just a person in
a uniform, I am a Soldier.
Every time I arise, I obey;
Each time she calls, I step up
To defend her freedom,
To restore her home of peace
I arise, I obey, I soldier on.
Into the forest of her terrors
I charge, not without fear for that
which is mine but with love and strength
and faith, I March. Defending the labour
of heroes past, I march; fighting
for dreams of her children bright-
the future she deserves.
I arise, I obey, I soldier on.
In the army I serve Nigeria, my
Country with heart, might and spine.
Though a thousand times I have fallen,
bits and pieces of me, lost to her darkness,
still I obey, knowing it may be my last. I arise,
leaving my family and friends behind.
I obey your call of duty. My service and loyalty
I pack on with my combat gear, that you may live
to see yet another day, to feel yet another ray of
light on your face. I am not just a person in a uniform.
I am your Soldier, the Nigerian Soldier,
Ambushed and slaughtered in 40s, 70s and 100
for lack of resources.
Bless me O Nigeria as I arise and obey
Send me to your enemies with arsenals
and might to match the fire in my eyes.
As opposed to the massacres of me, let
the headlines read of our gallant victory
For my victory is yours over those who
threaten our unity.
I am not just a person in a uniform.
I am your Soldier
Do not let my bravery dissipate to stupidity
For I rise, I obey, I soldier on
still.
©Belema .S. Ekine
©belemascribbles
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 6:51 PM UTC
With turbid minds
And mercurial hearts,
One must never forget
To stay close to a flame
That burns to warm
Opposed to burning to
End.
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 11:36 PM UTC
It is ironic, Salvador, because
I am afraid of many things in the world and when I am with you I feel safe,
Yet your company is the one thing I am afraid of most.
I know that I love and need you more than you will ever love and need me and that
One day you will be free
With another woman and I will be
Left paying for my sins against God and
My rights against the state.
I thought that our love would have no limits;
You said that I am a Christian storm but
I know that you can brave this tempest and
Save me from myself.
I am a poet, Salvador, but
Whenever I sit down to try to write a poem about you,
Or even just how I feel about you,
I am unable to because
I am lost for words.
I can no longer express myself.
I remember the beach.
We would lie there for hours
And on its sand we would kiss not just with our lips but
With our eyes.
The water will miss our visits,
Its body seldom taken by another-
As opposed to being constantly engulfed by two artistic lovers.
I have received my seaside medicine
-Via touch of tongue
And word of hand-
But have come to the realisation that you have in fact
Poisoned me.
I shall never be cured now.
The smoke from silent guns has already risen but
I am severed from the call to a fight with myself;
A conflict to choose between God
and you,
Despite the fact that you are the same.
You distract me from every focus-
Even though we are miles apart;
Even though you have replaced my words with your art,
You have broken me, yet
You make me
Whole.
Where is your warmth now, Salvador?
I am alone by the sea trembling with the cold
That you swore I would never feel again.
The winter will devour me as a result of your failing to relight the fire that is supposed to
Ignite me.
You promised me life with a portrait machine
But in all honesty
What I really want to be
Promised with is your faith,
In me.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
dead tree forks
arizona heat still goes dumb hard
voices swivel for relief
i mouthed every word
of a break up song
like it means something
giving you up
like you gave up on the pronoun game
callous tongue
imagine if you called me by my name
as opposed to a girl
like i told you to
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 11:14 AM UTC
robots helping us
you see it’s been a wanted thing for generations
but i saw on TV that they have already built robots
to help the elderly, ya know, by getting them a drink, so to speak
there are many things robots can do around your home
i am a messy dude too, and i have cleaners cleaning my house
but robots can do a lot more, than w2hat your think they can do
well, robots in the kitchen helping the elderly
the sky’s the limit, how about robots to clean the mentally ill persons house
yeah, it could help, we are still in the planning stages
but it’s good that they are still bringing robots for help around the house
everyone wants that, but it’s not as easy as live in with a robot helping you
a robot can turn itself into a computer, to allow you to watch stuff on youtube
and get educated, i am feeding my stuff on youtube, for the future robots
can see me as a cool figure or authority figure
computers should stop violence, if your video contains violence, youtube should rid that
not my content, get over it copyright people, violence is much much worst
there is nothing wrong wit parties, as long as they ain’t violent
this robot can help get rid of violence in cyber space, if more can get it
think about it, Robots can get your housework done while your out
you program it, to what you want him to pick up, it’ll be pretty ****** rad dudes
that little robot vacuum, is to small, but you can get this world full of robots by the year 3000
if everyone can tell their story, ya see, everyone is different, not everyone knows much about what robots should do, yet
not everyone agrees with my work, but, think about it, the robot can be programmed to pick up your *******
and take it to the curve, always understanding, how to sort out the ******* yeah
i would love a robot to help me, like everyone, will love a robot to help them
robots can make you love life more easier, i love life now, but robots can ease my cleaning woes
these words say, robots need people to help and understand people, by physically helping them
as opposed to hearing it’s not good to help them
that is whjy i am interested in gungahlin’s common ground, to cook for them, learn from them
so the year 3000, can create a perfect robotic world
when ya think of people robots, don’t think get someone off their *****
no, no no you have to feed the internet all your stuff, ok, even paranormal
cause the internet is interested, no matter
don’t worry about how many views, think of the future with robots
and believe in reincarnation, buddhist style, every blade of grass
got a thought, tell the internet, or the computer word document
CATCH YA LATER DUDES
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 12:38 AM UTC
I peruse exhibits through the modern art museum
Nails hammered into wood
And trash strewn on the floor
I couldn't help thinking
What the **** is this ****
These can't be the champions of modern art
Moonlight and Arrival morphed my empathy and perspective
The theater is fine
Music is there for those inclined to discover it
So what about visual art?
I know a few things for certain
Nails hammered into wood never changed my perspective
Nor does seeing a garbage can in a museum affect my empathy
Trash is not art
Trash is trash
Waste meant to be thrown in the proper receptacles
So as not to obstruct our view of true beauty
I will concede that
Beauty can be found in everything
Depending on analyzation variation
But those that live an examined life
Constantly see silver linings and sour grapes
Experiencing comfort in tundras to the point of banality
Those visions are much more interesting
in their organic state anyway
As opposed to an interpersonal expression of the seemingly obvious
So what to hang in an art gallery?
I have my own opinions
At this point in time
No visuals elicit more emotions
Than dank memes
When I'm consuming art
Questions are innate in my consumption
Is this a vessel for empathy?
Is this examining the human condition?
Dank memes meet those criteria
Satirizing the powerful
Highlighting emotions and virtues in ourselves
That we're either proud or ashamed of
Memes share a common thread with poetry
In the sense that everybody can create memes
Or be a poet
I get the impression that
Universality of art diminishes it's importance
In the minds of patrons
There's an element of truth to that
But what makes art special is quality
And what makes art truly special is high quality
And that's what belongs in museums
Jun 14, 2017
Jun 14, 2017 at 11:23 PM UTC
I had a gf that used to get called a feminazi,
but no one ever called me a feminanarchist;
I think what we really were is Feminihilists.
FFP opposed ***********
defined as the sexualized degradation,
********** humiliation, objectification,
subjugation, violation, psychological
annihilation, exploitation, & violence
against women as distinguished from
erotica based on the mutuality
of power and pleasure.
According to FFP's pioneering founder Page Mellish,
*********** provides the training for ******
assault & **** results in the objectification
of women; affects women's ability to get equal rights
& equal pay, & encourages men to associate
*** with violence; Page ultimately claimed
that _all_ feminist issues | [ , ], [ ]
are rooted in ***********
& in a 1986 letter to the editor of The Wall Street Journal,
she asserted that FFP is "not against love & not against ***
Page held that all men or women
who did not fight against ***********
were accountable for the violence
against women, claiming that women
who enjoy *********** or rough ***
had internalized the male [gaze] & |
male definitions of power
Page's positions on ***********
have been debated outside FFP,
including with respect to porn's agency
on crime & feminist & gay definitions of ****
Legislation alone was not a solution,
according to Page; it was also necessary to remove _"the need for ****
vehemently anti-censorship & pro-sex,
Page taught me to show everything from
all sides; my other feminista professors
were pro-monogamy [patriarchy] while
Page was a combat boot wearing girly-girl;
she had these cute little doe-eyed Q's following
her around carrying the placards [ ] for her
spontaneous demonstrations against underwear
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC
I'd rather have someone live for me
Than have someone die for me
Anyone can jump in front of a bullet in one last tragic action
But how many can put the blades down?
How many can make a constant choice to live despite their struggles
As opposed to a momentary decision?
Yes, I'd rather have someone live for me
Than have someone die for me
Because I don't wanna be the one everyone avoids eye contact with at the funeral
I wanna be the one people look to and think "she really changed his life"
I wanna be the one he looks at and thinks, "she gave me a reason to get up each morning"
I don't wanna be the cause of a death, romantic and tragic as it may seem
I wanna be the reason for the decision to live
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 12:27 AM UTC
In impulsive scenes, in adjacent moments
when eyes are locked and hearts are ardent
then passion strikes, a threat is posed
the lover's heart becomes opposed
astounded by the wondrous fact
Affections - real, just so intact!
a brilliant pause; the story alters
the lover finds love the moment he stutters.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 11:40 AM UTC
Truth bares the deepest recesses of her concealed modesties.
Can you feel the resonating equilibrium of tantric sound as we connect across humanitarian divides?
Tears fill my eyes, as I bask in the presence of such elevated humility.
I am grateful for the wisdom of simplicity, as opposed to what may be deemed to be stupidity.
Let us join hands around this circle of cultic agreement.
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 12:19 AM UTC
Donald Trump's presidency
Is one of the greatest achievements in art I have ever experienced
And Trump is a true artist
He takes words from the page
Like corruption, disenfranchisement, xenophobia
And brings them to life
Highlighting fear and paranoia so clearly
Contrasting the blacks and whites
Emphasizing anger
While reminding us we're mere infants
In the digital age
And warning us of our seniority
And capitalism's
We all like to think life has meaning
Until we hit an animal with our car
Then that's just the way things are
And I'm staring at an absurdist painting
Of a child driving a car
Through a herd of sheep
As I watch a heist film
Where the robbers turn their guns over
To the mentally unstable guy in the group
Trump is a national artist
Placing riots on the map
And drawing infernos on the Internet
His art forces an opinion
Everybody has something to say about him
And it's all true
Even the pages he ripped from his own cabinet
Tried to villainize him in their script
But he was already an anti-hero
The humor is that the mud slung onto him
Is dirt kicked up from his own tires
I guess if you surround yourself with hateful people
You're surrounding yourself with people who probably hate you
Trump's art is deeply conflicting
He reminds me of the people who want me to live in shame
Yet he embodies the individuality that separates me from that shame
His insecurities remind me of myself
High school is the White House in the eyes of a kid
And I had secrets I wanted to share
But felt I couldn't
I learned things
That changed my entire perspective
And didn't think people would understand
Afraid of being assaulted for my indiscretions
I hid behind a boisterous personality
And a nonchalant attitude
Trump's art evokes sympathy and hatred that feels so strong
When he holds a mirror defining our worst qualities
To a man viscerally opposed to his own reflection
The confliction of emotions
Is the hallmark of great art
We are all artists
The lines we write or the strokes we brush
Are in our actions
And Trump's canvas displays
A life filled with accomplishment
Inspiring me to live my own life
But I still wake up in cold sweats
From the American dream
That anybody can be president
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 6:39 AM UTC
"she's a simple girl"
they say about me
judging me upon
my plain clothes,
and even plainer face
"she's a simple girl"
they say about me
judging me upon
my lack of words
regarding frivolous topics
hair, make-up,
who's dating who
"she's a simple girl"
they say about me
judging me upon
the fact that i'd rather stay in
with a book curled up in bed
as opposed to a wild night out
downing glasses of God knows what
but would they invest the effort
and just a little bit of their time
to try and understand
the complexities of my mind
*the ideas
the perspectives,
the roads less traveled*
would they ask me what i am passionate about
they would receive not a few words
but uncountable volumes full of my greatest dreams
and most sacred desires
ask me what i love and i will tell you
about how deeply i care for the concept of community
humanitarianism, how my biggest dream
is to bring people together
if they saw the thoughts which keep me up all night
*how was i created? why was i created?
why me? why not?
my purpose and philosophy of life?
to be, or not to be?
who? what? where? why?*
if only they tried to look beyond the surface
and dive in deep
they would realize that i am no shallow pond
but a raging deep ocean
full of emotion and thought
belief, and purpose.
i am a simple girl when it comes to matters of materialism
i am a simple girl when it comes to speaking my mind
i am a simple girl when it comes to my lack of interest in manipulation, mind-games and gossip
i am a simple girl
until you stop judging me for what you see
&
begin understanding me for who i am
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 1:27 PM UTC
I am the Lorax, who once spoke for the trees
In the hope of bringing progress to its knees
But now I have grown somewhat older and tired,
My outlook and thought process being rewired
(Sometimes to see forest, you must clear the trees.)
Examine the case of the Brown Bar-ba-loots
Whose interests for so long I worked in cahoots.
Could such timid beasts truly thrive in the wild
So innocent, trusting, submissive, and mild?
(My former assertions I strongly refute.)
Why, see how they frolic and scamper in zoos;
How can one watch them and steadfastly refuse
To see how much better their lot is today
As joy for our children as opposed to prey
(A happy condition where no one can lose.)
Ah, scoff the nihilists, *but Truffula Trees,
Those havens for birds and those homes for the bees.
Why, what do you say now that they are all gone,
Removed to make way for some suburban lawn?*
(These angry young men—O Lord, take them all please!)
I gently remind them it’s just nature’s way,
That some species go while other ones stay,
The carrier pigeon’s no longer alive
Yet somehow we manage to live—indeed, thrive!
(In the face of brute logic, they’ve little to say.)
So don’t be dismayed or frightened or leery
Of doomsday projections outlined by theory
Suggesting that our time on this earth may be done;
Consider the caged Bar-ba-loot having fun
(And we hear fish do quite well in Lake Erie.)
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 2:33 PM UTC
We are told that
Nothing trumps Trump's
Misogyny but truth will out
When his sexist shtick is a
Gift that keeps giving for
His Republican rivals,
Whose
Lips are sealed, but by
Their deeds their hands are unclean.
We know that Bush did not beat about the bush
When he said of women on welfare that “They should
Be able to get their life Together and find a husband"
We know that Walker repealed Wisconsin's only
Equal pay law and supported anti-choice
Invasive intrusion of a woman's right
To choose. We know that Mike H
Has mused that he thinks women
Who cannot control their “Libido"
Should not “curse” and Jay Z is really
A **** seems to be exploiting Beyoncé.
We know that Rubio opposed re-authorizing the
Violence against Women Act, even though he knew
What it meant when he opposed the Paycheck Fairness
Act. We know Rand P was rightly Republican in similarly
Voting against the Paycheck Act, and in his college secret
Society promoted Anita B's views that oral *** was a sin.
Perhaps they all need to look in the mirror and adhere to
The Biblical adage that "He who is without sin should
Cast the first stone" But what is sin anyway?
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Addiction
......is a mountain that you do not have the strength to climb, but do so anyways....and you know that there is an avalanche..a moment of collapse and destruction....that is bound to happen at any moment in time, but you do not care because....the view is so beautiful
addiction is letting your highs carry you throughout the night because it's the only way you'll be able to greet the day and then allow your lows to drag you through it
addiction is small puddles of water in the desert that lead to a mirage in the distance, you continue drinking, believing that you are being led to your salvation only to realize it has all been an illusion
addiction itself is water, although it does not reside in the desert..it's in your stomach as opposed to food, because if you were to eat you would not only throw up the food, but also the truth
addiction is silence within classrooms....why speak out loud when you are already screaming at the temptation in your mind to leave you be..
addiction is a race between bank accounts and bodies..and its hard to tell which one will cross the finish line of complete emptiness first
addiction is skin clinging to bones like a baby to its mother....but its only ever perceived as beautiful
addiction is carrying vile poison in your veins, and so in your backpack you also carry blades because you never really know when the temptation will scream just a bit too loud..and the time will come to let it all out
addiction is locked doors and cold bathroom floors that you sit upon for hours contemplating your fate..
Addiction is what has carried the minds and souls of those I love to a far away place, and so I suppose I allow it to carry me now in hopes it will bring me to them someday...
Feb 13, 2018
Feb 13, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
I’m stumbling through a black abyss,
Surrounded by this nothingness,
Mirroring the emptiness,
inside my soul.
Along the way I find a lake,
A lake upon the path I take,
And near the lake there lies a sign,
Just before the water’s line.
And this is what the sign does say
,The sign I find upon my way:
“Here lies the gateway to the soul,
So look within if that’s your goal.”
So I kneel within this black abyss,
And gaze upon the lake’s surface,
My reflection meets my eyes,
A face I do not recognize.
And as I look upon this face,
Despising she who took my place,
I feel my anger over flow,
And finally I let it go.
“You ignorant and petty fool!
You errant-minded, useless tool!
Oh look at you, what you’ve become!
Don’t you see how far you’ve fallen from?”
My reflection does not answer me,
Just stares back out so emptily,
A sight that draws forth unshed tears,
And rekindles all my greatest fears.
“What happened to the face I knew?
What happened to the real you?
You are everything you once opposed!
You are a fraud! And everyone knows.”
My reflection simply stares at me,
It does not move, nor answer me,
Nor does it return my shout,
It does nothing, just stares back out.
“You are the reason for the emptiness!
You are the reason for this black abyss!
For everything that’s trapped me here!
You are the face behind my fear!”
Then looking down upon this lake,
This lake upon the path I take,
I realize it is no lake at all,
Only a mirror upon the wall.
Nov 11, 2012
Nov 11, 2012 at 10:17 PM UTC
I truly have
a love...hate...
relationship
between
believing...
what I know
and...
knowing
what I believe...
Symbiotic...
and toxic...
It's a detailed.
enigma...
My curse...
My passion...
an ever present pull...
with stubborn intent
often directly opposed
To the path
which I am on...
When I was much younger
I developed a systemic
and purposeful mission
to design the person
I was to become
I had carefully weighed...
tested and mapped out
my "edges"
finally setteling on
habits, personalities
and a type of lifestyle...
this allows me
a precarious balance...
between honor, appearances
and fair exchange ..
friendship, acceptance and fun...
Something rare
during my colorful
and...
then recent
childhood...
Like I said...
young...
and well...
Once I found my path...
I stubbornly believed...
That no others...
existed...for me
Really young...
...hee hee hee
As we all know...
life happens ...
...and I rolled
and flowed...
and always seed to manage
But I didn't bloom...
I just became really good
at being me.
Just missing...
a really good second...
again
waiting...to become...
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 3:57 PM UTC
I dreamed that, as I wandered by the way,
Bare Winter suddenly was changed to Spring,
And gentle odours led my steps astray,
Mixed with a sound of waters murmuring
Along a shelving bank of turf, which lay
Under a copse, and hardly dared to fling
Its green arms round the ***** of the stream,
But kissed it and then fled, as thou mightest in dream.
There grew pied wind-flowers and violets,
Daisies, those pearled Arcturi of the earth,
The constellated flower that never sets;
Faint oxlips; tender bluebells, at whose birth
The sod scarce heaved; and that tall flower that wets—
Like a child, half in tenderness and mirth—
Its mother’s face with Heaven’s collected tears,
When the low wind, its playmate’s voice, it hears.
And in the warm hedge grew lush eglantine,
Green cowbind and the moonlight-coloured may,
And cherry-blossoms, and white cups, whose wine
Was the bright dew, yet drained not by the day;
And wild roses, and ivy serpentine,
With its dark buds and leaves, wandering astray;
And flowers azure, black, and streaked with gold,
Fairer than any wakened eyes behold.
And nearer to the river’s trembling edge
There grew broad flag-flowers, purple pranked with white,
And starry river buds among the sedge,
And floating water-lilies, broad and bright,
Which lit the oak that overhung the hedge
With moonlight beams of their own watery light;
And bulrushes, and reeds of such deep green
As soothed the dazzled eye with sober sheen.
Methought that of these visionary flowers
I made a nosegay, bound in such a way
That the same hues, which in their natural bowers
Were mingled or opposed, the like array
Kept these imprisoned children of the Hours
Within my hand,—and then, elate and gay,
I hastened to the spot whence I had come,
That I might there present it!—Oh! to whom?
3.3k
Fallen from grace,
No longer do I sit high upon the pedestal
That you had once put me
No longer am I seen as idol or mentor
Nor wanted as provider or protector
But now looked upon as an outcast
And banished from your heart
Betrayed by the one who now blinds you
With a veil of lies and deceit
That weighs on your young fragile heart
With heavy words of animosity and abhorrence
You have been trapped in a malevolent web
Of hatred and retribution
Used as an unwitting pawn
In a game of emotional chess
Your words of respect and adoration
Have been replaced by venomous accusations
Of brutality and oppression
Taught to you by the one
Who now holds the chains that bind your heart
But I will not be vanquished or deterred
By these attempts to falsify or dilute my love for you
I will be strong in my resolve and true to myself
I will not let these misguided asseverations
Destroy my confidence in knowing
That my spirit is pure and that one day
You will be able to break free from your restraints
And uncover your eyes
So you can distinguish the truth from the lies
Until that day comes I shall be waiting
Ready to stand next to you
As opposed to being on that pedestal
And walk down a new road with you
As your friend and equal
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
The slaves of their passion built this pyramid
But now there’s no sign of civilization
But ancient artifact have been found
The great migration to the underground
I look at the hieroglyphics on the wall
It’s an epic story oh I’ve seen it all
This place was taken by industry
Powered by fame and the illusion of money
They perverted the artist’s proud, heartfelt ways
Forced the true artists out for the ones who stayed
They create things that sound the same to us
Dropped their talent sold their souls to business
Lost their land to a cult of executives
So now they put out songs without messages
There puppets without any ideals
But it’s amazing for album sales
They were tempted by the glorious pop charts
Every follower goes by the formula
Produce garbage without connection
With no real emotion or expression
Their distorted auto tuned emptiness
All to be on TV and in magazines
Want exposure to be recognized
Their careers won’t fade they were never alive
This place ***** robbed lied to n even forgotten
The ones who stayed chained to the corporation
Not for the sake of art but for the money
Lack of feeling and effort plain to see
The slaves of their passion built this pyramid
But now there’s no sign of civilization
But ancient artifact have been found
The great migration to the underground
Can’t understand what their saying
Fan base is alienated
Rather be an icon than a star
The space between performer and audience grows more and more
So the true artists have left n disappeared
They’ve been out of sight for many many years
There somewhere where you don’t need to be in style
Might not find them at the left of the dial
No they don’t care about TV or radio
They just want to make something with all their soul
They are all now opposed to the fame
Crossing their fingers it won’t be the next craze
But today we still have the artifacts
Amazing and impressive sounds of the past
Better than the sell outs we all know
Talent, determination, originality flow
The slaves of their passion built this pyramid
But now there’s no sign of civilization
But ancient artifact have been found
The great migration to the underground
Someone poisoned the main stream
So now it’s the same to me
Did I read the hieroglyphics wrong I don’t know?
But it was the rise, fall and return of rock n roll
Dec 5, 2013
Dec 5, 2013 at 1:39 PM UTC
It all started,
When you removed my top,
and that's when you made me less composed,
I though then that we were going to become parted,
But you just dropped,
and you made my body opposed,
This is when things got-started,
and my body frozen, and shocked,
because you went to a part of me I had left closed,
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:28 PM UTC