"orgies" poems
At the Zoo
Patriots and faux exhibit and binge on synonyms of liberty printed on beer and underwear
Advertising what should be unspoken and inspired to pervert and romanticize
Preludes to the parades and finale above us all
Weeks of saturated irony
Cuckoo bird irony and BBQ
As they reform Phoenix, rebirth of distractions and thievery
Predators in ally ways pursing America's diamonds and legs
Then gunpowder
Gunpowder of colors and cuckoos
Layers of streets in gunpowder
Towns built of gunpowder
Sky is gunpowder
We are born addicted to led and gunpowder
Gunpowder ****** in the air
Success, display and diversion and more gunpowder to ingest.
The Grand Finale
The Volta of the evening
The hammer of the judge
*** appeal of death and nature flexing it's muscles-
show us some skin!
Covering your ears
Eyes fastened-
Ready to burrow back to mothers womb
Binged and free
Chinese celebration hijacked
Red, White and Blue
And a moment of silence
Orchestrated onomatopoeia in heaven
Chorus of arousal on Earth
Band marching war machines in hell
The showdown of 241 years!
This freedom we are all grateful to only talk about
Only free to battle shackling intoxication
Men and women tugging extra weighted offspring
Sulking for indoors and portable addiction
Chanting three letter obedience
God being counted by his blessings
Fear and Statism in every breathe for salvation from our stick swatted enemies
Checkpoints that serve and protect asking for a toll;
liberty synonyms.
Arresting the too free
At the Zoo,
The cuckoos regaining reality.
The phoenix red eye and held under oath
To the next day where we are back
To hate each others freedom, again.
Jul 10, 2017
Jul 10, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
in the hospitals and jails
it's the worst
in madhouses
it's the worst
in penthouses
it's the worst
in skid row flophouses
it's the worst
at poetry readings
at rock concerts
at benefits for the disabled
it's the worst
at funerals
at weddings
it's the worst
at parades
at skating rinks
at ****** ******
it's the worst
at midnight
at 3 a.m.
at 5:45 p.m.
it's the worst
falling through the sky
firing squads
that's the best
thinking of India
looking at popcorn stands
watching the bull get the matador
that's the best
boxed lightbulbs
an old dog scratching
peanuts in a celluloid bag
that's the best
spraying roaches
a clean pair of stockings
natural guts defeating natural talent
that's the best
in front of firing squads
throwing crusts to seagulls
slicing tomatoes
that's the best
rugs with cigarette burns
cracks in sidewalks
waitresses still sane
that's the best
my hands dead
my heart dead
silence
adagio of rocks
the world ablaze
that's the best
for me.
13.8k
I would rather be hysterical than vulnerable
to what most people call love.
I would rather couple with strange women
on an Amsterdam getaway
than let one more man
try to own me.
I prefer to ignore my own psychodynamics
in favor of endless talking cure analysis
and occasional astrology cult ******
that promise to speed my eventual evolution
from wounded *** object to invulnverable starchild.
I don’t need a Beverly Hills shrink
to tell me my narcissism and depression and squeaky voice
are symbolic of never having the power
to set a boundary between me and my father
who doted over my puberty
with slobbering praise and veiled lust.
Everyone who knows me for more than a week
sees my father throwing me financial bones
instead of apologizing for what he did
and the more I take his money
the freer I feel
distanced by automobiles with dark-tinted windows,
a house with a skull and crossbones doormat,
a silver .45 under my pillow
and not one single ex-boyfriend
about whom I will ever say a kind word.
I have created emotional and psychological invulnerability;
all men are now my father
and all men pay the price
of never being loved by me
and I pay the price of never being able to let them love me.
Now I just play with partners
and when they inevitably start to use the “L” word
I start to run inside
and I bounce off the walls and mirrors
of my own emptiness
and I go on a photo safari to Africa
where I pretend to understand the meaning of life
and I put out restraining orders
against the men who insist that I explain
and I have come to rely on legal and monetary fences
to protect me from
the truth about my deep loneliness.
I’ve never had an ******
never said I love you twice to the same person
and I think
as long as the money’s there
I won’t have to.
Aug 18, 2012
Aug 18, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
she likes to dance in cemeteries naked
warring little but jeweled ***** bells,
ankle bracelets
toe rings
bingles, bangles, piercings,
through ******* and nose
her tongue split
each side wiggling independently
she gives head on a head stone
her blow jobs
like two undulating mouths
her skin inked with
black and blood tattoos that say
*Satan's little ***** *****
double penetrations preferred porfavor
the more buttery big ***** and pastry puffy ******* the better*
she
all purple hair tinged red
and antler horned hat
with silver toe and finger nails
a crazy saint sane
adored by the popes of the lascivious
eyes wide open over a crimson mouth sneer
cherry pout lips
gods gift to ***** and vaginas
a temple of relief exalting
Eros
a **** it bucket list of lust
her heart
cotton candy in flames
****** like a river of smashed potatoes
in cream
she like
phases of a corpse moon
begs to be used after death
like pigment on canvas
smeared red globes and chiaroscuro
she playing dead
living it up
do you know her
she keeps her secret hidden
on her sleeve
while you keep yours
from yourself
*bless me father for I have sinned
and loved every minute of it
yet dare not be happy
for fear of Gods rage*
my soul saved
turned fertile earth to sand
and shrouding vistas of light
till the bed is the bed
of the living dead
so there's nothin left but work and sleep
and dreams of drunken **** madness are buried
under the weight
marked forbidden
black sun curse
hips sway in ashes
a forbidden dance
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 10:42 AM UTC
I became celibate
quite a few years ago
only in part
because of religious reasons
but probably mostly because
the *** was so bad
so after I became celibate
and after much meditation
I experienced a new kind of ***
for me,
these internal *******
from kundalini flow
and to me,
it is better than regular ***
and I have it
much more frequently
like entire days of ******
so that sometimes
I think that I am not celibate
but actually
have become
a bit too promiscuous.
Sep 20, 2011
Sep 20, 2011 at 5:57 AM UTC
lotus in a mirror
its roots clutch crepuscular slums of dredging mud
deep dark stagnant
thick with worms and milk flower petals
we remain nourished
wisdom expands into darkness
all of us students in the school of shadows
irreverent desires reverent
wise children of light bathe in waters
of cimmerian shade
*** death and regeneration
are celebrated in ******
of feral lucidity
souls are soiled by devils
the bog swallows bones
to bloom seraph's and cherubim floating
the third eye open
a cascading light
secret kiss
a breathless eternity
at the root
flames lick
open orifice
of ripples silk
empyrean *** magicians
weave
hips voodoo
Oct 5, 2018
Oct 5, 2018 at 1:09 PM UTC
.*well **** me, after writing such a revealing piece, i really need a double whiskey gob-smack... i need a drink... i really need to have drink... but it's honesty, i'm not ashamed of it... people have a harder time owning up to gay bar pop songs in their closet, like a Belinda Carlisle song... ooh... personally? i've never come across anything more **** than a pregnant woman ************ or, to mind the pursuit of the Wendol idol? exhibitionism to boot; a striptease? pare by comparison... you can't exactly possess the carnality of a woman, and the concept of the mind's eye... with a fetus, to boot.*
in terms of jerking off...
**** me,
i moved away from
fine art nudes...
found an alternative
outlet....
https://tinyurl.com/ybhzl3x5
i.e.?
the exhibitionism
of
pregnant women...
it's like peering into
a wormhole,
of sorts...
who the hell needs
****** glory-holes,
******** crap?
pull me to sight
a pregnant woman
encouraging exhibitionism
and i'll be there,
within second,
with a tissue...
**** it...
she can do it, and doesn't shy
away from?
**** is
so lost...
been catching up on
the whole American Pie franchise...
m.i.w.i.l.f.
mom in waiting i'd
love to ****
who said that jerking off leads
men to ******* ***
****** *****
who said we would turn the
******** avenue?
oops? for not being
adventurous enough?
adventurous consisting
of watching
a pregnant woman
exhibition herself,
oiling herself,
jerking off...
what... if i were married...
could probably
become the mouth and tongue
of God in terms of oral ***
******* losers...
having the negligence
stipend in allowing a wife,
as pregnant as she is...
to exhibition herself like that...
for me to pick up
the crumbs from the table...
******* losers...
i'll admit it...
jerking off to a pregnant
woman exhibit herself
beats jerking off to fine art
nudes.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
one who basks in the soft heat of grandiose moonliness
growing fatter on honeyed imaginations
their sicklysweetness soaking through the pores
of countless generations
their minds invade a collective consciousness
burning arcs of inspiration – torches of the collective vision
in drilling through mutual experience
great gaping black holes of creation
effigies of super-egos, lynched on altars of desire
neon flames and disco lights, emotions on a massive pyre
maiden voyagers on never-ending cruise
sinking in foreign oceans – their endurance dupes
minor gods of destiny and fate they await
dionysian ****** of wine and food for thought
and hearts that beat in unison
a schizoid muttering that enlarges and deafens
manic pleasure that spins and spins
in eternal circles of pleasure and pain, loss and gain
opioid mists that dream a dream of everlasting name
an addiction an obsession that sumbits
to some masochistic drive
to empathize.
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
06.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 6, 2012
Sep 6, 2012 at 4:55 AM UTC
*i hate to break it to you kid,
i'm not mindful of narcissus'
economics that's all oh so very modern...*
but women are their own orbit,
more chance to find a single mother
than a single father...
it's against nature to make the man
without god,
as it's against nature to make the woman
with god...
thus we have the tectonic plates
making man with god, accepting
or doubting, church or laboratory...
and woman... an eroticism of jaw eaten
faces... but a kiss to be a fingerprint
likened to erasing the dangling of the bitten
jaw... erased only once by the aphrodisiac of sirens'
wail of aquatic opera so damnable that only
one man heard it, while others scolded
being in audience with beeswax...
and by second chance, erased, indeed,
but only by the suffragettes as the new nuns...
as the new nuns dare comply to change,
like every male become female and
vice versa,
and the popes disclose their continual
loss of matrimony in their misogynistic
involvement in ****** if i'm not the pope
and do no encounter such practices,
i'm not a pope at all!
*only a ninth spoke as the necromancer,
and of the nine spoke clearest,
as it spoke, it dawned on me
that sauron was invisible for the sword
to strike, a gravity enveloping,
a gravity envelope, rather than a skin
of infinite diadem sharpenings,
for nine rigs unto men,
seven unto dwarfs, three unto elves,
but none unto the orcs... strange....
ORC ARKHAN MORDOR ARRAC!*
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
Sloane swallows.
***** is ****
I execrate extraterrestrial.
We are all kaput to conk out.
Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky.
Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty.
I verily don’t grease a *****
Oojakapivvycum.
If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of
Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism.
The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff
It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing **********
I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies.
I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert
That penetrate ***** creature.
I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it.
It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing.
We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium.
I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux ****
But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android ***
Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself.
I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail.
I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types.
I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs,
Ad hominen id. Ex post facto,
I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself.
I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ******
Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème.
Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.
Mar 21, 2010
Mar 21, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
If I could simply overcome
Possessive nouns and vowel sounds
I would not need to study ******
Heavy lies’ beheaded crowns
But you make martyrs with your charter
School exclusive service sector
To systemically condemn me
To the destitution nectar
Of the corner story ******
Potential Cinderella caged in
The statistics of the mathematic
Overdose equation
Comatose’n like a Holy Ghost
Of tranquil ranking party skanks
Whose tanks plan out the projects
For the boys still shootin’ blanks
And then the slavers liberate
Some nation-state of god forsaken
Oil barons salivate
To taste the poison Apple’s stake in
Stock in stuffer markets takin’
All the products people makin’
Privatizing profit-docket lawless
Mother Nature rapin’
For some scarcity disparities
In wealth I can’t attain
You keep me feeding on the bottom
From the top, you make it rain
So as the brains continue drainin’
In amenity dependency
I tinker with the inner-machinations
Now the enemy
You’ve made me out to be you see
My generation’s future’s bleaker
Than the past in full HD
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Party At The Old Age Home
Hello today and how are you,
feeling better, now that we're through.
Things are starting to improve,
feeling that single life groove.
A new girl every single week,
you'd think I was in my ****** peak.
Would you believe, I'm eighty two,
****** is the thing I do.
I get blow jobs with just gum,
these old ladies **** it like a Tum.
I just pop a pill and off I go,
an ****** old folks home show.
Having ****** in my room,
even the nurses jump on my tomb.
Not sure how long my heart will last,
who cares every night I have a blast.
My ***** hang down to my knees,
these old women keep begging please.
Before *** I remove the cobwebs,
I've partied in each of their beds.
They say my heart attack was inevitable,
my golden years were so incredible.
My casket was covered in ******* and flowers,
it was nice being that hard for many hours.
Glad me and the wife had that fight,
I became a ****** out of spite.
Saggy **** had me beguiled,
it was like old girls gone wild.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 8:07 PM UTC
His situation was dire.
Despite having taken shelter
Inside that ring of fire,
Fuelled with whiskey and ****
And ****** with flesh,
She still held in her beautiful hands
The end of the rope around his neck.
Stepping into, and out of the flames
With unbelievable, unnatural ease,
She would tighten and loosen
That noose of her deadly love,
As and when she pleased.
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
The teardrops of stars
A woman with a body
And a name
Celeste
How I look up in the night
And see her eyes
I see her skin as the sky
A cosmic answer
A soft place to land
From my recent fall
The tears that formed
Flow like glaciers
Ruining her make-up
Mascara on her cheeks
And her heart
Branded
How I reach out through these voids
These pits of despair
These ****** of pain
And touch love
These crystalline tears
Shine on my hair
And drown my hands
In her forever
I never saw the sun
But I swear
By god
I have felt it
Fall on me
As love from the ether
As teardrops
From stars
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
What is it about **** that attract men and women.
Is it the ******* the sights, the sounds or is it their fantasy.
Is it their neurotic or ****** styles of motion that leaves them at awww,
or the sizes of disbelief.
What is it that attracts men and women. Is it lonlyness, cellabsy or the lack of.
Is it ok to watch **** during a bachlor or bachloret party. With your partner for ****** arousment, a boring day, or because your parter no longer particapates, or just because.
Yes some hate it, yet most love it.
**** **** **** **** **** ****
Even the word **** sounds ***** yet ****
Why is it hard for people to pull their eye's away even though they say it's disgusting.
****
From the funny mustaches and the funny beats in the 70's. To the ****** implacations, to live websites.
There's teasing **** soft **** hard core **** group **** ****** hurting **** painful **** **** beyond belief.
Me, yes I have watched **** but never paid for it. Yes, I've surfed the sights. But why, curiosity ? Who's to say.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
every time i travel to Warsaw i fall in love,
i stand on the central Warsaw train-station,
and there's this girl checking her
mobile interet, phone,
and she looks pretty...
and... i really don't want to **** her like
the guys **** her in ***** movies...
maybe that''s shy i'm considered
"effeminate"....
maybe...
i just didn't **** enough women...
or maybe...
i speak the tongue of the crusaders...
but we sent the artillery...
the beautiful women to the Arab
******
and kept the nation safe...
Islam, akin to the comparison
of the Bubonic Plague...
Islam... virus of the mind...
i'll contest thi...
i'll ******* die for this...
i've been feeling weird for the past
few days....
Tom Petty died....
so... why would anyone give
a **** if Wayne Static
does the coffer?
so... i'm supposed to care?!
**** you!
Jeff hanneman died...
but do you see me,
making a case for a ******* parade?!
no?
good... that's how i like it...
******* south London
plonker!
every single time...
i fall in love with a girl
at the central train-station in Warsaw...
the love dies a sudden death...
when i get to the....
Western train station of Warsaw...
the Ukrainians et al...
the Mongols...
love's up,
dead, long gone...
i'm basically living
the enterprise in re-experiencing
a slow death...
feral lands...
these Polacks are like...
please don't land in Warsaw....
i know...
Krakow has Auschwitz as a tourist
destination...
but... but...
you will not see the generic
schematic of globalization...
every time i travel to Warsaw i fall in love,
and then i think of "it"...
**** marriage..
no thanks,
you have it covered...
on your way;
i might not be on the winning side,
but sure as ****
i'm also not on the losing side either...
and t think...
that i could even concise my
life within the confines of
imitating my father...
i could have...
but then... life...
isn't exactly a chance on bet within the confines
of a roulette.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
When did I become a ******
I lost my virginity somewhere in between,
Random one nightstands...
And drunken ******
Virginity lost so long ago
Can't even remember why I lost it for
Now I find myself on the delivering end
Of some woman who tommorrow,
I won't even be remembering
I don't want to be misleading
I actually have feelings for these women
But it seems to get ********** at the end of each meeting
Than they just become another notch on my belt,
Which I guess is good
Because it seem like the more notches I get
Seem to prove my manhood
When did I become a ******
Maybe it was in the 8th grade,
When I got addicted to ****
Or when I got to college,
And it became so easy to get a drunk female,
To my dorm
When did I become a ******
When did *** become an addiction
Maybe in high school when all the dudes would brag,
About females they than hit
And I just got tired of listening
So having *** became a mission
When did I become a ******
I guess somewhere in between,
Losing my virginity with my first love
And the women I slept with last night,
Just because
When did I become a ******
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
I told them, “I don’t feel sorry for Robin Williams.
He lived it. Coke-fueled, bearded trickster of ******
Well traveled and well versed, raging into worlds
Physical and ephemeral, like a ghostly bull
Goring mortals to unfeel the estoques
Sunk deep into his vital corpse.”
I had a friend who blew his brains out
While his parents were watching tv in the living room
And another who rented a room at the Marriott
Then hung himself off the shower-rod
Both early 20s
You won’t see them on the big screen
Or hear their witty banter on interviews
Chic celebs won’t eulogize them
On “Extra”, “TMZ”, or “Access Hollywood”
No 2 minute montages
At award shows, while tuxes and gowns float
Clapping in ovation behind the shimmering façade
Of golden statues
They got a few lines in an obituary, in A7
Those who knew them will speak in hushed euphemisms
No one daring to whisper “suicide”
As if it’s the ****** Mary of deaths
Like walking under a ladder, or breaking a mirror
The mirror containing, like smoke, the future
The jagged shards reflecting moonlight faintly
I love them all the same
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
I always feel
Like a sheep
On friday night
3 beers deep
When I was young
I always thought
When I'm an adult
I'll have my shot
To do the things
I always dreamed
Like classy ******
Star Wars themed
And ice cream breakfasts
All the time
With rock star friends
And no bedtime
And punching sharks
With the president
And drinking coke
In my own tent
But instead of living
The ultimate dream
I'm drinking with friends
Being way too mainstream
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 12:26 AM UTC
Peace! God’s Peace upon you all! The Bishop blessed
The dyed-young congregation: dyed fathers ‘n mothers,
Grandpas ‘n grannies, great-grandpas and great-grannies.
The demons of decadence--Hair dye, ****** and Spirits –
Chuckled and giggled, crouching well under the pulpit.
Dyed gurus ‘n financiers, dyed lawyers, doctors n’ nurses,
****** entrepreneurs and ****** entertainers, dyed judges
Dyed ‘n spirited evangelists, priests and vergers on ******
Peace be upon thee all! Blessed the Bishop from the pulpit.
Now, the demons in the hiding iterated and reiterated it.
A Sunday spirited chat—all smiles! -- in the church portico:
The Viagra-dyed banker in later life smiled a dyed smile
At the elderly dyed mother of three; and she said: they say,
In spite of my age, you know, I look so young and pretty!
And the thick flanks under her chin jiggled in approbation.
The ****** great-grandpa said to the dyed Justice of spirits:
Milord, they say: “The stuff brings cancer;” Fools! Idiots!
“The gloves—the condom-like device—that’s our safety!”
“Milord! This trinity wizard, they bring a million crores
To the exchequer of this famished democracy, milord!”
“Milord! The nature lovers say, we wash billions of bottles
Of these magic stuffs into their rivers and the seas, milord!”
“They say we all-- dyed ****** men-- are sissies and doofuses!”
“Milord! Our tubby women dye young, lest they’d be labelled
Mammy, Granny, Grandma, Old Granny, the decrepit ‘n that!
Now, the dyed media reported: father mated with his daughter,
Mother with a teenager, grandpa with an infant; and Ministers,
MLAs, MPs—all spirits-Viagra-dyed-- are in a ******* spree!
Now the Dark Trinity cried “Wow! In this world of ******
The Kingdom, the Power and the Glory--all are ours! Amen!
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 11:20 AM UTC
I was never your protector, you abused my stoic nature
Madcap ****** for days on end, and copious substances, abused
The blaring music, disturbing the peace, rattling windows
and you dismantled my structure, and yours alongside it
I am just a house
I was never the crutch you needed, nor was I a friend
Remember those long nights on the town with raving girls
and you were irate when I fell to the floor; rich man's art piece
Now you snivel and scratch because you flushed me in haste
I am just *******
Pair me up with old white friends in speedball imprudence
Meticulous measurements in early days but you grew reckless
Now your ghastly macabre silhouette on back alley walls
Is all that remains in this dead town that you still saunter in
I am just ******
You put too much emphasis on me, to defend the sentient
and you stare me down on the kitchen table, questioning
You hold me close and I feel your brow, indecisiveness
and now I'm caressing your temple; bemoaning barrel
I am just a gun
You sit and attribute voices to the voiceless and inanimate
because for years you have repressed your depression
When you should have asked for help and not escapism
and today you end it all, alone and weeping for something you know not what
I am just your psyche
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 10:04 AM UTC
Anigh, is the darkling of the effrontery eagle, effaced, replaced; it's worship towards the devil. Gallons of blood, used as cover, ash and mud; defiling of ****** mother's. Gallizing men drowned in sweetness of drunkened friends. Gamins created by cankered loot, oil fills the pockets; diamonds make slaves to. Gangrels run kingdom's from their ancestral hand-me-downs, gaolers imprison innocents, whilst thy rulers throw ****** for babes at compounds. Innovators; mocking God's name. Mixing men with robotics, keeping the pure obscured, locking animals in a cage. Inorbing creation with cameras as eyes, like rats they scurry, hide; when the truth is knocking. Like a drunkard; This circular hell shalt rock as a ship, many planet's art approaching, none help shalt thou get.
©Brandon nagley
©lonesome poet's poetry
©prophetic poetry.
Word meanings:
Anigh: near.
Darkling: growing darkness.
effrontery: shameless.
Eagle: the united states.
Effaced: erased, forgotten.
Gallizing: add water plus sugar to make stronger wine from grape juice.
Gamins: neglected boy left to the streets.
Gangrel: vagrant, loose built person.
Gaoler: jailer.
Whilst:while.
Thy:your.
Inorb: encircle, surround.
Circular hell: earth.
Art:are.
Feb 11, 2017
Feb 11, 2017 at 1:49 PM UTC
“I love you”. You said and then you slipped away.
Broken dreams, meaningless futile efforts at happiness?
Mingled with useless feelings, promises of safe havens cast aside
Unmatched emptiness, soulless societies tearing apart concrete foundations
Searching with fevered panic, unhealthy unions superseded by drunkenness
Vacant eyes, struggled smiles stare back with futile efforts of understanding
Unreachable depths of ********** broken only by moments of saneness
Interruptions of innocent faces, blankly staring in wonderment at nothingness
Empty sentiment screams from hollowed eyes, foul breath from yellowed rotted smiles
Halo dirtied by unwashed hands, melodies of undying love, waking emotions.
Saneness interrupts
Passions momentarily subside, shameful memories, guilt ridden questions of why.
Seek forgiveness, absolution, resurrection of self worth.
Intimidated inner child crying, wanting wholeness
Inebriated ears cannot hear the mournful cry.
Sightless to the destruction of beautiful dreams
Cynical hearts cannot feel the bottomless abyss, created by selfish needs
Beautiful white light eclipsed by black desires, reality escapes
Averted eyes, wanton lies, excuses spring forth from rancid lips of deception
Healing words cast aside, ***** by visions of drunken ******
A warped sense of empowerment dissuades sanity.
Trapped in the tentacles of forbidden lust.
Saneness interrupts
Written By Edward Gordon Green.
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 11:21 PM UTC