"orchestrate" poems
Gentle evening wind, non existent till a moment before
lying low among the children playing with the flakes of golden sun
fallen on the silver white sand, quickly rises, unnoticed by any one
flirt with the comely coconut palms lined on the beach,that act coy,
blows towards the long, rolling blue wave, meeting it headlong,
a blast, white spray springs up spectacularly like a fountain,
then, easily lifts three kitesurfers, fling them high up stylishly
across the fortress of water, they look invincible, untouched
by the waves, that look foolish eyeing skywards, the milling crowd
howls in mirth, seeing the dramatic twist, it's all fun till sun down.
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 1:20 PM UTC
Hi! My name is poetic and I'm poetical,
I shine with the pen and I always get lethal.
Don't be stunned when my poetry's jab
Causes plague and blinds you with a flap!
My speech is rooted in truth
And my words are anchored by oath.
The metaphor speaks for itself
And the simile becomes my wealth.
I am a poet,you don't seem to know it!
I don't think twice,I just blow it!
The poem that you've just read today
Was taken raw from the shelf by the way.
I was a broken puzzle
And now with these words as I addazzle,
I can say poetry brought it all together
And made mild conditions of the weather.
Don't hate,I speak my mind,
And regret after the words are combined
To infiltrate your soul and propagate
A well refined feeling of weight!
Half the words I orchestrate the meaning,
The other half I display with grinning.
What matters is that I planted the seed
And you nurture it well as you read!
Dec 13, 2016
Dec 13, 2016 at 6:27 AM UTC
Let me tell you about highschool
Let me tell you about the girls with hair higher then they can reach
The boys with the careless hair
The love intre-
No
Let me tell you about MY highschool
With the nerd shirts and phrases that most don’t understand
With the football games and the blue and white face paint
The girls talking to me with another pair of lips rather than the ones plastered on their face
No
Let me tell you about life
About the dew drops in the morning
The smile hidden in a stranger as he orders his double mocha triple shot dosage of love
Injected
No
Let me tell you about me
Let me tell you about my mom and her thin lips that orchestrate fat lies
Let me tell you about my dad who treats the bottle like the daughter he never wanted
Let me tell you about my school life and the way I get treated
No
Let me tell you a story
A story about ups and downs
Pills and coke and *****
With books and love interests
I cant fit my life into a poem
I can tell you my love life in a poem
My scars in a poem
My hate in a poem
My fears in a poem
I can’t tell you my life
I can tell you about my surroundings
How I always try to be strong
But you can only stick your head near ***** for so long
Before you start smelling what they're saying.
I can tell you about homophobia
About the men who flinch at the very word ******
Or the girls who are so uncomfortable with themselves they starve
I can tell you about the parents childless because of bullying
So tell me
What do you want to hear today?
Sep 17, 2012
Sep 17, 2012 at 12:26 AM UTC
The story teller writes
For a naked character
On a bare stage.
The one character,
One line play.
Profound, all encompassing;
A brief run,
But a blockbuster
With opening nights
In all the capital cities.
The visualist
Could use one brush stroke,
One lump of unmolded clay,
An unchiseled stone,
Weathered driftwood
Or a piece of glass
To display in the great museums
For our interpretation
Of the exposed truth.
One note could orchestrate
On string, wind or skin,
And the composition would be complete.
The maestro could bow and walk;
No encore could repeat.
I want one line of verse
To embelish my yearnings;
To explain the cosmos,
The meaning and crux
Of this place,
Including us.
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 11:50 AM UTC
Twisted
and broken
Dancing
And limping
Your perfect puppet on strings,
Bowing
And
Bending
In time to your madness;
A tiny porcelain ballerina
Spinning on a pedestal,
As you orchestrate our final symphony.
My sweet,
Scary
Maestro of monsters,
My Conductor of Chaos
And pain,
I adore you-
My darlin,
My puddin.
Bleeding
and hopeful
Here I am,
Still,
By your side;
Your fondest hit
Your favorite toy to squeeze
(the life out of)
Your prisoner in love;
(Your good girl)
Begging for just a little more.
Heave me over the side
Again
Drown me in your molten insanity,
Push me under-
Just.
One.
More.
Time.
To feel the thrills,
The chills,
The danger;
The happiness
Of liberating manic laughter-
To feel the helpless despair
As I perform in your circus.
Here I am,
To beg a bullet
For these lips,
That praise your deeds,
And pray for release,
For a mutual destruction,
A final comedy written in blood.
I guess...
the joke is on me after all...
Right, Mr. J?
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 3:57 AM UTC
Only ONE RACE
the HUMAN RACE.
The dividers
and conquerors
all trying to convince you
otherwise.
And they are
NEVER
on the frontlines.
They
manipulate
you
stirring up
emotions
hatred.
That people should die
for the mistakes
of the few.
God hates those who stir up strife.
The only
so-called
winners
are the manipulators
the millionaires and billionaires...
those who orchestrate
the mess
who PAY people
TO HATE...
turning them into mercenaries
MERCENARY
HATERS
AND
MURDERERS
and NOT for the reasons
they think.
The ORCHESTRATORS
don't care
ONE WHIT
about the cause
ONLY
about the
POWER and CONTROL
they
HOPE TO GAIN
when they
"HAVE TO"
quell the mess
and put out the fires
Which
THEY CREATED
by
THEIR MANIPULATIONS.
BEWARE
how people
try to use your emotions
for
THEIR GREEDY GAIN
TO CONTROL
YOU.
WE ARE ALL
ONE
RACE
THE HUMAN RACE.
Reach out
try to
LOVE YOUR NEIGHBOR
YOUR BLOOD IS ALL THE SAME!
WOUNDED
ONE
DROP OF BLOOD
IT'S
ALL THE SAME.
cj 2016
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 2:33 PM UTC
Your willing slave, faithful servant, loyal friend,
This and more I wish to be until the end,
No one else on earth but God can promise this,
If they say so, they're just full of fizz,
You have but to say just one single word,
I'll orchestrate a symphony or a simple chord,
Where others falter, tumble and hold back,
I'll come through for you; excel where they lack,
To ease your mind of doubts is my desire,
I'll prove myself time and time again; and never tire,
Your fires will always be lit; and your rivers will always flow,
Your deepest secrets and your utmost desires I wish to know,
In your trust I find my greatest satisfaction,
I present myself to you; exposed truth in every action,
If my life were requested of me right now for you,
Not a second would pass; Id give it; forget the queue,
My heart would not stutter; skip a beat;
None would even make it to their seat,
If you were to look into my eyes;
You'd see the love and dedication swell in guise,
That which is solely for you and only your smile,
Let them all try to push me aside, I'll throw them in pile,
A dog may be mans best friend, but you're mine;
I'm glad to be yours too; sorry I had to cut in line...
© okpoet
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:10 PM UTC
Never
Orchestrate a hook up with a
Ripped and curious hetero
Who dances like Prince.
Ever the idiot, I
Grabbed hold of his hand and
Instigated a kiss, whispering
“All is well with me, I’m a good bet…”
Not knowing just how much of a
Weird night it was going to be.
Ominously, he told me to leave straight afterwards. With
One eye on his sleeping form, I
Didn’t set fire to his flat, but I snapped every one of his cigarettes.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 6:49 PM UTC
I’ve gotta go home and clean, you say.
Clean my scent from your sheets,
I want to tell you
*Come closer, baby,
Untangle my limbs and
caress me down,
orchestrate my symphonies.
Didn’t you see the stars, too?*
I remember your breath all
over me
and how I tasted my very existence
within it.
I remember seeing infinity
in the golden hazel of your eyes,
those **** bedroom eyes,
soothing me past my boundaries,
hands pushing past my hipbones
and into my infinity.
And I want to tell you that I still taste
your lips on my tongue
and I still feel your teeth grazing my skin but
I don’t tell you any of these things.
I look you dead in the eye
those bedroom eyes, boring into mine.
I wonder if you’re playing back the scene
you moving over me
and I say, Okay.
Our whole existence
narrowed into one word
and in that moment I think I hate you
but the thought of your hands on me
still makes my sun rise each day
and I wonder if maybe
I love you in spite of
all the things telling me not to.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 3:42 PM UTC
I was asleep when you came in.
Wakening to the intoxicating tequila that drizzles from your mouth,
You've already managed to start the discussion
Combing you’re hands, lips and tongue to orchestrate
A stroke of genius in full consequence,
You now have my attention..
But you’re not alone,
Putting on my glasses
I see you picked once again
Navigating takes four hands ya know.
Now choose:
A spin-cycle or tune up,
temporary vision, lost again.
Each of you raves,
You both used to dance.
Looking at each other,
synchronizing the helm.
Yearning for violence you scratch the flesh
That harbors you’re enthusiasm.
Backbiting lust and forceful appetite,
This is what happens when you
Wake the Wolf.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 11:06 AM UTC
The air I breathe,
Which gasps and sighs;
My journey of choice guided
All its winds and there were
The words my soul had yet
To Melody.
Along the sky, next to
The petals stolen and the birds
Feathery flight there was an Angel
Sobbing in blue and whose tears
When hit on ground did stroke alive
Many a lily white bloom.
And the air I breathed
Caught the Daughters of God
In mid flight and split the tongue
Into words for Poet Saint to verse
The world in birth of inklings.
Near a sonnet yet born
A coronet of masks lay drawn
Upon the faces of nymphs I saw
The fiery lust behind open waters
Chanting to sailors revealing their
Naked spirits and seducing in words
That seemed a song from some
Romantic whale.
In the orchestra of stars,
Breathing in constellations up
Upon a pedestaled Word,
The sumptuous flows of winged words
Played like sweet violins and the chorus
Was mine to orchestrate,
Both slow and methodical,
Paced and volatile.
And I breathe,
The breath of lovers like a steed
And a mare upon whose back
Sits Eros shooting arrows into
My very soul romantically evoking
The man in me who believes
In the songs of love,
A woman whom sings them aloud
And along the moist of her lips
Sits the poem I have yet
To write.
Oh deep is the breath,
The Lovers combine in perverse
Yet controlled light,
The naked souls are entwined
In a living light of crystalline
Bodies mankind deep passionate
Starry eyed poetry.
Ah the winds that be life!
Times of sorrow that fill the void
Like restless cries of a motherless
Child, and a walk among the tombstones
Brings about the rage of death,
Both tranquil and terrifying,
These words are they that bleed.
I breathe the words in open air,
The Shepard winds upon
My ink, the poem dances light
And lovely adorned with sighs
And sorrows, would bes and regrets,
The tender ferocity of the winds.
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 6:14 PM UTC
Within the nook of a dell,
a good distance
from obloquy
and inhibition,
floating on water,
listening to birdsong
descend down
the stream
of a musical scale.
Don’t need to believe
or even consent to
any critique,
any look-see,
you are free and light
on the surface,
buoyant and supple
beneath.
Languid movements,
reminiscent
of a weir,
cascade
and trickle,
springing forth
to orchestrate an overture.
This feeling is
beatific,
euphoric,
the moment one of
nonpareil,
bijou,
objet d’art,
and these transports
are yours only
to involuntarily
succumb to and relive:
Rhythmic waves
quivering
upon your shore,
as your limbs and spine camber.
It’s no wonder
you often lift
your voice in song.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 8:01 PM UTC
If I had,
the words you possess,
I would take them,
and clean up this mess.
But I have no control.
I was a toy and now I'm sold.
Orchestrate,
seal my fate,
claim you hate,
what you can't see,
you can see me.
Slicing our love,
slicing an atom,
you drop the bomb,
under a setting sun.
A fire burns inside me now.
And no one can put it out.
You feel,
what I feel.
Tell me,
is this real?
Slicing our love,
slicing an atom,
you drop the bomb,
under a setting sun.
You smiled,
as you walked away.
I loved you,
in every single way.
You slyly slipped me the poison,
before I could run.
Next time, do me a favor,
make it quick, use a gun.
You smiled,
as you walked away.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
As the world slowly turns
And governments try to rise
It will surely please my sight
To see them fall before my eyes
Everywhere I turn to look
A new law is being created
For what? Why so?
To traumatize and belittle us
Why must we obey a human power
All we need is the Lord thy God
To govern us and lead us abroad
No need for following the devil's
Dark angels of havoc and chaos
I am with the lawless
I'd rather govern myself
As should we all..
Let's come together people
Let us rise up in revolution
And stake claim our own land
"America, land of the free" they say,
Can someone show to me
What is free in this place?
We should be able to do whatever
To be allowed to ingress wherever
But instead we are bound by rule
This society must someday change
I am in a state of nihilism
Let us run and do what we please
I surely refuse to remain enclosed
Living in attendance to injustice
Me and my crew are ready for war
Time has come to overthrow
Let's make the law's ship flounder
Sinking to the abyss of nothingness
Rise anarchy rise!!!
The trillions of dollars they sit on
Let's take it from their sacred places
I'm ready to orchestrate dominance
Let's machinate the takeover
If blood shall be spilled,
Then let it be spilled honorably
In battle as one
As long as we accomplish our goal
To become a heavenly anarchy
Making peace reside in our land
No more indescriminate deaths
No more unhealthy eating
No inhumane death of animals
We must live freely
As wild mustangs on grassy plains
If anyone stands by me
With a load of support
It will happen
Just wait and see...
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 5:02 AM UTC
When I see her face
I don’t get an ********
But something in my gut
yearns to be held by her.
If only I could spend my life
understanding her face.
In time I would
uncover God.
Instead I am afraid
and I do get an ********
I smear her lips with brine
smudge dark honey
under her eyes.
How do I orchestrate ******
accompany **** with a melody?
When the sun comes
she is marked.
Jul 6, 2010
Jul 6, 2010 at 3:01 PM UTC
*I, fluoride - sanity theft
Winding toy soldiers
to march the path toward furtive glory
While spurting the tune of war
to the end of their very last breaths*
*Harbinger of certain death
Peek from behind the curtain
Witness the brain mining
From inside your skull
eyeballs explode, deftly blinding
Defining images which pervade
Overwhelming emotions stowed
Once turned to stone
mental harm, tractor combines harvest FarmVille tards by the barnload
Certainly,
The eye of Horus and ISIS see all
scorching and seizing nations, arm in arm
All for one, none for all
Bombarding bravado
Clasp the trap
Lapse in conscious
All tapped out
Drowning in tap water
Until all comes tumbling down like Niagara Falls, dauntless
Like Satan's hands expanding
advance upon the homeland
Then race trickling downward
Total assest forfeiture
***** buried in sand)*
Faces hidden, ashamed
Orchestrate the line in frame
Shape my frame of mind
Until my thoughtscape escapes
To peer through one eye
Met to widespread acclaim
Descending into the mind of Chaos,
His stables gates
burst forth with beasts of fable, insatiable and rampant
Triumphant, turn the tables
Arch-Angels blare your trumpets
*Tell Famine get off his high horse
And rear his ugly head
So we can really show that *****
Mother Earth what for;
**** that ***** until nothing's left*
*Effectively wrecked
From careening trains of wretched *********
Now she's hit
& the caged bird that longs to be free, is inevitably
dismembered to pieces by the felines that be*
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 4:07 PM UTC
Starlight is fading, clouds cover the moon,
the wind gently stirs the leaves of the stiff holly bush.
All else is silence, a woman whispers a rosary and I sigh,
in contemplation of the ineffable that I haven't the words to portray.
There is laughter in that silence, barely heard below the whisper,
laughter, and a gentle sob.
This is the first night in a long time that I have stepped outside for a smoke,
five years my meerscham sat dormant collecting dust.
It is an awful lot, the life of an artist,
always trying to make things better...
or worse.
For what it is worth I would not choose to be anything more
than a simple poet, who smokes a pipe at night (only)
and has nothing but time to examine the dimming,
the lowering of the shimmering
the fading of the stars that I once new all the names of.
Heartless men manouver, and orchestrate machinations,
not me.
I am a poet, and a poet sips the last drop of the fading starlight
from a tiny thimble, because a poet is entitled to such things,
it is his salary for doing the things that no one else can.
For seeing the truth beyond the ineffable.
Not only seeing, but recording.
Only poets do these things right.
Everything else that might be done, is better off left to someone
other than a poet.
Someone, who simply is more focused on moving forward.
We poets linger, like an odor...
not foul, at least not always.
But none the less, it does us no good.
I am no longer a poet, I cant pierce the veil, and see the wisdom
in a beam of moonlight.
I can only sit here.
Smoke my pipe,
and wait.
The fading starlight tells me that I can't wait long.
The song of my soul, will sing, it must sing, or else
it is better that we cease to be...
Perhaps I am through. Either way I will smoke this pipe for all its worth,
and when the last tendril of smoke drifts away, I will head to my bed
where I will sleep soundly for the first time in over a month.
A Burns 2012
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 5:15 PM UTC
I used to think I wasn't worthy of life
And when people heard about my thoughts
They looked at me like I was crazy
As if I didn't know how special I was
Standing alone in the rain
Like I just watched my lover leave and board a train
I looked in the mirror only to see every made up flaw that my imagination could orchestrate
I smiled only to have my eyes change my appearance into a twisted shape I couldn't recognize
My hatred towards myself lead to hatred towards others
I looked at people and thought of every mistake I could think of to match my own
I didn't know how to love myself
People's affirmations of me didn't mean anything
My words towards myself were like swords
And my friends words which I thought would be shields
Were really just medication to numb down what I was feeling
Thinking as long as they saw something more in me
I would somehow change my opinion
I walk down streets and see endless amounts of self confidence
If I had a nickel for every time my parents said something nice about me
I wouldn't have enough to pick myself out of the gutters and wash off
If only I knew sooner that approval from others is like trying to drive a car without gas
You can sit and picture all the places it will take you
But you will never reach any of them
I look in the mirror now to see the person that everyone else sees
Too bad it only took me 18 years to finally love myself
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 9:07 PM UTC
I think in poems,
drink deep sounds,
smell bright colors,
untie the bound.
I touch the notes...
they ripple in the air.
Taste the pain .....
no qualms no care.
I orchestrate a silent fugue,
two voices never heard.
Pen it all inside my book
then read it to my bird.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 6:28 AM UTC
O you, sitting on the highest power echelon of this country
Revolution is mere change of masks???
O you who orchestrate these stage plays to ridicule, already ridiculed masses!
O to you,
The unnamed, the invisible nucleus of power
Have you ever seen the revolution?
How it looks like?
O You
Yes you, who pretends to be the only savior of this country
Do you promise, from tomorrow, all the people will sleep with full stomach??
Health and education would be free??
Justice will be accessible??
O oooo
Have you ever seen revolution?
Do you know how it looks like?
Or I am too naïve to ask this…
Aug 17, 2014
Aug 17, 2014 at 8:19 AM UTC
your body is an instrument I mastered eons ago, when the stars were young.
it is you I have, and shall always yearn to play.
at my touch, you open up to me; lines of familiar notes upon my fingertips.
together, we harmoniously orchestrate the ethereal music of our souls: a sonata of infinite synchronicity.
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 1:53 PM UTC
Wind snaps through wild grain sprouted along the edge of the harbour
The aching creaks of the windmill over head orchestrate a haunting song
An appropriately ominous farewell to our weary sailors
Just beyond the port, we stand freshly alone and wait
We wait as they begin to vanish into the same fog from which they had appeared just a week ago
We watch as their vessel becomes a mere imperfection against a looming wall of clouds
And as they fade into the horizon, the sky darkens in anticipation of unavoidable ruin
Towering clouds shed foreshadowing tears
Weeks will pass, two months past when they should have returned will have come and gone
The same haunting cries of the windmill will soon be joined by echoing church hymns
Adorned in black veils and white flowers, we will be bathed by the same sorrowful clouds
Oppressive clouds will hang low above a candlelit procession
These fate burdened clouds will begin to weep, raindrops mingling with widows' tears
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 10:17 AM UTC
listening as the
sea hears the
moon and sun
cascading flow or
pulling away
melded in
********
tortured ecstasy
creating
a thousand words
for every birds
eye view
my body giving in
to
my mind
my soul somewhere
in-between
silent worlds
of unseen eyes and inward probing
these neurotic bodies
swaying visceral waters
deeper currents not
complying as yet in
this cosmic
****** of
light & darkness matter & void
affecting only the surface
pulling back
only waves
pushing them back
to the ever-changing
shoreline
when affecting
only the surface
it appears to
be dull monotony
at the beck and call of the
moon's every whim...
oh
and other orbs play
their part with her
but infinitely deeper
dramatic ebb and
flow
cannot be witnessed
by the seagull's gaze
the thoughts of the soul
are faint or nil
in the patterns of
vision-mind
our bodies
listening to this galactic
dialogue seethe
in stagnant waters
when the mind like the
moon is all she
hears
or whatever brings
in a stronger
signal
we have taken her away
kept her estranged as
mutated cells eating away
conformed to the
image of an empty shell
of a neutral network
caught in a degenerative loop
a dense
gravitational pull slowly
leading her along
into the vortex of the
absence of light
yet something our minds
cannot understand as
yet is developing
out of sight-mind after
the imploding of her
beautiful
mass
after
the burning-out of
countless worlds
beyond
even the furthest reach
of the poetic
eye
a genesis beyond eden
attempting with
greater resolve to
orchestrate the divine
purpose of the
primeval garden
rearranged
and tuned to higher
******** harmony
the new
birth of soul leading
body & mind
her voice
being the gravitational orb
swaying visceral
waters and deeper currents
complying this
time around.
Jan 22, 2017
Jan 22, 2017 at 7:59 PM UTC
"I would say I care about women's rights, but I wouldn't call myself a feminist"
"I think men and women should be equal, yeah, but I don't want to be called a feminist."
"Does that mean I can hit you?"
The word feminism rattles like a cracking cymbal crashing
just hard enough on pavement to scratch it
but not hard enough to break.
The word feminism manifests itself in our culture
in poisonous ways,
like the food dye in our candy'r
parabens we cover our faces in,
we don't say this word cos' it's scary
we don't want to make too much commotion
while white men in black robes orchestrate the court system
and have police by the neck, inserting money like a candy machine
we fear the word that gives us a step to bring equality
while white men in suits ask us "how we doin'"
and we don't admit that we're angry,
women don't show anger, it isn't polite
when the men in the subway puts his hand up our skirt
and says "hey baby you like that"
no, he doesn't ask if we do, he tells us out flat,
insinuating our satisfaction is a product of theirs
reminding us with a hand on public transportation
that anyone who has a **** can be one and we can't do ****
because we aren't supposed to be angry, it isn't polite
The word feminism manifests itself in delicate ways
we can't ask for too much, they won't take us seriously
****** intergrity? girl, try again
the right to not wear a bra?
Where do you think you are? this is america
An opinion
one that they hear
that isn't facilitated
out a white man's mouth
into a white man's ear
we aren't a filter
won't you raise your voice?
**** being polite,
please, make some noise
The word feminism manifests itself in ways you can't see
if you fear what it might make you lose
you haven't much yet by the hands of the man
so why are you choosing not to grab your sister's hands?
Stop saying sorry when someone interrupts you
stop moving out of the way for men who don't move
put your female foot down, don't say excuse me
you're a woman, angry with every right to be
stop fearing the word feminism
for the connotations are flurries
the word denotes storms we're starting
join us
Sep 28, 2016
Sep 28, 2016 at 9:30 PM UTC
It is a fallacy we all believe.
As we vehemently exclaim six words
to prove the chastity of our thoughts,
to fill our pride with self-validation,
to ratify our existence with falsehoods.
"The Devil made me do it!"
"The Devil made me do it!"
I bitterly laugh at your blundering gaucherie,
as you lay blame on an eons old transgression,
as you smote the sinnerman flying with flames,
as you called him out for your own actions
impassioned by heresy.
Impassioned by heresy
You sought to relieve yourself from perdition;
brought upon by perjury declared,
brought upon by authenticated truths,
brought upon by the duplicity,
of your favored reverent ideologies.
Of your favored reverent ideologies
which is to laud your skirmish against evil
in order to remove yourself from auburn eternity,
in order to induct you as a citizen of argent fields,
in order to orchestrate contempt towards another?
Is there no truth to you?
Is there no truth to you
now that perfidy imputes your entirety?
as you declaim in front of paradise lost,
as you coerce to regain what is rightfully deprived,
as you throng duress by intoning your delusion:
"The Devil made me do it!"
"The Devil made me do it!"
Its recurrence is maddening to Him
while you, in all your sentience, chose to act unbecoming,
while the celestials perched on your shoulder bawl,
while He that you blame does absolutely nothing.
It is a fallacy we all believe.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 10:54 AM UTC