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Lazhar Bouazzi Sep 2017
I am the quill that marks
The water-walled history
Of the sea as it may -
A swan, be it, or a black-backed
Gull.

I am the pariah who
Failed to posit his load on
A hill that hung low, like a
Sunless moon, but who can still
hark the dark
Rumbling of repetition.

I am the Quixote who took
On the wind who made the mill
Sob like a bronze leaf in grief,
Seared by the passage of
A sluggish summer.

I am the pariah, the
Quixote, and the historian
Of the rainbow runner.

©LazharBouazzi, August 5, 2017
Morgan Mercury Jul 2013
I said I'll meet you by the water
Just follow the path down the shore.
Follow me across the world,
to a place that's left unexplored.
We'll carve our names into the tallest tree,
reaching up towards the heavens and skies.
We'll count the stars as we leave,
to the other side of the island.
Drag a stick through the sand,
drawing tiny infinities.
and then we will sleep in the trees,
it's safe, trust me.
Look at the skies and watch the clouds roll by,
they were all ours.
We traced constellations with our fingers,
and talked in the language of the stars,
so they smiled back at us and sang us songs to sleep.
There is an island named after us.
A legend of a pariah duo.
Oh, the stories this place will hold.
Umi Feb 2018
I will rise,
Rise to paradise again
Spread my wings, free from any chain,
With only one goal in my eyes I look to the sky
Then I rise, yes I will rise
From the hellfire, no matter the price

May I burn
Take my turn

But then it will surely be my time to shine
The beauty of the heavens will surely be mine
I will not stand these flames,
Embrace my devilish distorted wings
See what good that may brings
One last judgement
On this long lasting journey
I will rise, rise, no matter the price
A future dawns dream, draws near

Make it clear

In this realm of art and devilry
Heartfelt dream scapes shape the mirror
In a world so dark that the stars will blind-

Refuse to fall!

Forgotten by both Heaven and Hell
A craft of hearts forms my kingdom!
Take my hand, all ye pariah souls-
The love of light is for all to bear!

~ Umi
Bison Oct 2016
Dark matter parallels
Encoded long-term
Pariah on the sunrise
And she got light to burn

Delicate on the rain
Floored by pointillisme
Beauty makes the sky
And she mirrors painted schisms

What metaxis to break
Like losing yourself on the lake
Light turned reflection
Subtlety belies perfection

Novae cry silent and awake
Shed the skin, dire
Could she dream, no better
Oh to hear that voiceless choir

Dance stars apart
Fickle child, wandered
Empty; her lungs
Fulfilled no longer

What metaxis to break
Like losing yourself on the lake
Light turned reflection
Subtlety belies perfection

To the end of everything
Summers over, dead Winter sings
No hope, no hope in these evergreens
Malevolence and whispered screams

Lose yourself
Lose yourself
It's nothing at all
But everything at heart

We're dancing among the stars
And we're on fire
Deep and alone
Waiting for the endless to expire
Mystifying Chaos Nov 2016
I was miserable when you left.
I cried for hours and days.
But now what I feel is undoubtedly the most contradictory emotion I've ever felt,
I don't think I'll ever forget you.
You were my enchanting fantasy which abruptly ended on a sad note.
You were my first mesmerizing emotion of utter utopian devotion.
You were the drop of Jupiter that dripped upon my hair and left me wild.
You were the fire of the purest passion that burned me alive.
You invoked the deepest desires from the darkest corners of my mind.
You loved me when I considered the meaning of love as a waste of time.
You left me as if I was a pariah on the pedestal of a sacred shrine.
You disappeared like Houdini as soon as the lamp lost its light.
You abandoned me and vanished like a phantom, right out of my sight.
You were the myriad of perfection that seemed so lovely to be deceptive.
But when you left, it felt like a shard of glass ripping through my heart.
It hurt, and I screamed the most melancholic sound.
My devotion turned toxic and it spilled like acid on the ground.
Smoldered the memories of the best times and charred the symphony that my soul sang out.
So what I'm trying to say is that I don't think I'll ever forget you. Neither will I ever forgive you.
I'll think about you for the rest of my life. Till the day, the sky falls down and engulfs us in its light.
Khyati Pareek Mar 2018
She was broke,
only her heart now spoke.

This was not what she'd asked for,
or wanted to cherish.
But now, she was a pariah
left all alone.

All was not yet lost,
she could still cope,
with a Ray Of Hope...

She struggled and pushed herself through the dark,
and she found it at last,
she no longer needed anyone else's support,
Cause she was now herself- 'A RAY OF HOPE' !
When everyone else needed help she came forward and did her best to save them from being vulnerable. But, when she was in misery no one came out to help her, she was broken, inside and out. She lost all hopes and beliefs in humanity or kindness.

But finally she saw her inner strength and fought the problems to cope up in her life, and so she came back as a shining star in dim light!
Deb Jones May 2018
I thought I forgave you.
I told you I did.

I meant it at the time.
Or thought I spoke the truth.

How casually you mentioned it
In the dark, drinking a beer.

“Remember when we were kids
You said “That’s how kids are”

“Besides” you said.
“It was only touching”

That continued even when
You were home after boot camp

I felt hot in the dark
I thought I had been stamped

Signed, sealed. Validated.
But it wasn’t enough.

You took something that shaped me.
And made it sound like crumbs.

Casually brushed away.
In an adult voice filled with scorn

Minimized.
Justified?

You were 15.
I was 10

Then I was 14
And you were 19

A beautiful boy- man
Loved and admired by all

I know you tried with our sisters.
They all told you no.

I never thought to say no.
Always pretending I was asleep.

Because of your shame
You hated me. I was a pariah.

You didn’t have the willpower
To stop yourself

See, brother of mine.
See how you shaped me?

Now I am an adult
And one of the hats I wear

Is as a **** Crisis counselor
Holding hands in the Emergency Room

During the **** kit examination

Of girls and women
That were ***** or molested in various ways

Various ways.....
With different words to describe what happened

Even different body parts.
How do we treat a young girl

That doesn’t even know
The word ******?

Who thinks that she was ***** where she pees.

For myself?
I did forgive you.

I put a letter in your coffin
You were Thirty-three
I was Twenty-eight

Faulty pistol, bled out,
Two hour wait for the ambulance.

Your head cradled by a woman
Who soothed and comforted you

Surrounded by our father
And dozens of your friends

I forgave you finally.
Completely.

I never stopped loving you.
Is that worth saying?

Why does death feel like
We have to whitewash the truth
Yenson Jul 15
Let me tell you about CONTEMPT
something you know nothing about
you say you have birthright in the mother of Democracy
that you believe in freedom and the Rights of all Human beings
you holler civilization and talk of Higher Learning and Education
that you believe in Equality regardless of race, gender and creed
you bang on about meritocracy and the dignity and right to Peace
YET
you break into your Black neighbor house and stole his property
then you victimize your neighbor saying he has no birthright
it is wrong for a black to aspire
in your gangrene eyes, its an abomination
for a black to be decent, law-abiding and do better than you
so, you robbed them and then
you coral your fellow scums and lied through your teeth
you twist truth and turned a hapless victim into a pariah
you concoct accusation of greed and arrogance to justified your crimes
you swept up moronic thugs and crooks to harass and harangue
to hound and smear, to taunt and torment
to humiliate, sabotage and destroy a promising future
you revealed and robed your racism
you dear friends is the epitome of CONTEMPTIBLE
YOU....though beneath CONTEMPT is what CONTEMPT denotes
YOU and all associated with you
are the Glaring examples
of ABSOLUTE and TOTAL CONTEMPTIBLES.
So, said Planet Earth

'You battered the head off me'

'cut me open and bled me dry'

'poured poisons into my blood streams'

'scarred the flesh off my body'

'ladled toxins into my mouth'

'drained my guts'

'gashed my throat with an atomic cocktail'

'ravaged my body'

'ripped my heart out'

'tore the hair off my head'

'brought relentless torment to my eyes'

'wiped your feet on my back'

'You parasitic *******!'

'You war mongering pariah!'

'Breathe!' You dare scream in my face

''Breathe!'

'Provide you with the oxygen of life?'

'You loathsome scumbag!'

'After tearing my lungs out'

'After all the grief you caused me!'
'Wearing me down in the face of the Cosmos'

'you brazen *******!'

'I am dying!'

'You dare to turn up at my death bed?!''

'You have spent your inheritance and beggared yourself!'

'you contemptible excuse for a life form'

Humanity looked on and wanted to say something.

Shame faced, it glared back in anger and struggled to compose a fitting response. A flash of light illuminated the scene.
19 nuclear explosions rocked the planet. 84 minutes went by.

Planet Earth's hand went limp and dropped from her bedside.
She had succumbed to Humanity.
tolerating trolls is
a very difficult thing to do
as their behaviour has
a wickedness of cue

they establish their awful
dispositions upon us
and they don't much like it
when we kick up a fuss

but why should our community
accept the unacceptable
from they who are truly of a
class so despicable

free-wheeling around
doing as they wish
we must reject them
like a pariah fish
Lucas Apr 5
plum stock girl
off to be cool
elsewhere
for elsebodies,
where no hang stalks
deny proliferation;
handbag pariah
crab crawling
at john boats
nascent with smells,
you have grapefruit eyes
and probably astigmatism.

Requesting filler ups
and smoochie-poos
I become jelly beans
and cry...like way too much.

please don't think less of me
as I climb over leafs on
'the tree from another world'
like surgery from a snake thumbed drunk,
like literature from the mid 2000s,
like wisecracking grandfather's passing out flyers,
like building a porch with a friend,
I'm out here
going.
Yenson Nov 2018
The Cons fed no rations...hahaha

The house breaking Burglars are Chris, Joan, Tom and Kelly
Ably assisted by Jim and Cindy, the black and white *******
who broke up their families, move in together, to **** each other
Life's too short, forget abandoned spouses, what the hell, ok
Then there's Linda, who's had three husbands in ten years
all leaving after a while, leaving her with two kids
to look after, what a palaver, where's a true lover
These ******* ****, use and take then do a runner
Her trust in ******* men ruined to pieces and no nookie

All dysfunctional lives, full of pain, angry at the world
Yes we're in Limehouse, but do we have to **** sour juice
They're all seeking to vent, seeking revenge for their miseries
Look that couple upstairs, always bright, styled like Vogue
neat and tidy, full of laughter, going places, yuppie cts
See quiet husband, walks like Bowie, with a kin of **** swagger
And the wife so cute and petite, drives the shiny Red Mini
He ***** her every night, I hear them, I tell you
Their skins glows, shines like the sun, too happy by half

Chris the Scot married to strife and bother
The criminal life is such wahala, police here and there
its hide and seek, no money, no nookie, no nothing
Well OK, there's Tennants and Special Brew to drown the blues
****** hubby again in Wormwood Scrubs serving ******* Majesty
Tom ain't stealing as much as father, have to beg next door again
Joan is ******* and ain't making no money, now in the duff
only fifteen, by ******* Nobby, from the Young ******* Socialist Brigade, Kelly is also ******* and only twelve, what a life
Ahh ....  life on the Estate is life in *******

Listen you all, here's the deal, here's the number
Those ******* Happy couple at number fifteen
Why ain't them struggling like us all, where's the cushty
You don't see them carping, the ******* are loaded,
Them knobs have it all, smiling and laughing like *******
Let put some fire up their *****, let's teach them street life
Hears they think they are royalties, let tax their ****** *****
I'll be the lookout, you kick in the ****** doors
Liberate their valuables, we'll all have a party

******* Nora, the quiet man has blown a frigging gasket
Says he gonna tell all we are crooks, gonna evict us, the fool
Go get the posse, go put out a contract, a ****** for the jump
We are Eastenders, born by Bow bells, and we look after our own
How ****** dare the toffee nosed tory, says I should go get a job
as if, working for honest gain is our thing, ****** idiot
Yes mate, the boys are out, the contract is on
Let's see Jackanory tell us a bleeding story
Hero to Zero is now playing at Roman Street market

Break them up, mash  them down, ruin their lives
lets play 'trading Places, see how the c
ts feels
I already see cool man strung up. dangling on a rope
How dare they live happy and comfortable
two wages, car, dining out, new attire every day
Come on Jim, Cindy, Linda, all go get your mates
There's work to be done, no time to play
We are the TUC, that's Thieves United Confederation
And we've got the ******* Red Boys in the Team

It's down Tobacco road for Mr Tory, the bleeding ******
Ain't no more laughter, we'll put them in the gutter
Lie and slander, defame and harass, topple Saddam
Get the ******* Red mill going, its round Robin time
How's yer father,  no more mate, not ****** likely for a while
Yer only leg-over is gonna be legging it to the Social Security
Its Dole time, pain and miseries for you sunshine
Sing a song of hate, pariah on a roundabout
Yer marathon man now mate, come meet the Red Devils

Here, They need no ******* introduction
Ken Pepiton Aug 23
drumm drumm drummed in two
ranks of
auto-
filers whacking keys and levers and springs
slamming
edged
quantum of scripture
i e o u y vowels of no need-- back in cunieforming time
then came those monkeys with the typesetters
whose keys never got stuck
uno
marko per stroke
five 'undred per bit of etaoinshrdlu
click click cliche'
time measured by degrees in fractual
sym-metry wit' bio me

Tumeric kicks in,
eases the swelling of the bubble.

Imagine the imaginings of a child reading
funny papers
in the privy, smokin' grapevine for no

known reason, or,
maybe it appeased the flies, while I sat
upon the throne
in a tower of my own

wandering through memories of
Terry and the Pirates saving Dalai Lama
from the clutches of
the abomb-in-abled snowman,

Yet-i isis now, the Prince of Persia, once more?

No, this battle is not mine. This
war
was
won;

at that crossroad in Perry's Cafe
when the offer was made: star a footnote here
aster-risks have not been invented... we must reduce opacity.
histoical he refused the deal but  did Write the course
"The Internet in One Day"

work for hire, a good gig, then Netscape went public,

reality validated verification of the efficacy
of Feynman's reversible NAND gates,

the future was super positioned
No taxes, tarriffs or tithes; pay flat
twenty percent
for eighty in return, guaranteed in for by of
we, the people's adaptation to

Paredo's Principle versed in Solomonic Wisdom,
re-de-clearing no non new things
under the sun,
trial by

total emersion in a sea of green sans
yellah submarine,

acid etched re
collectibles dust and debris,
flotsam jetsome wetsome old girls dream

it's now, the future, 2019, and some
of us
survived the seventies in hiding,

we're back.
wee voices you ignore at your peril,

not every inspiration is from for by good.

Some are.
Some words live in the sounds they make,
hocus pocus
abra
cadabra, for instance... is heard by children

as the leaven-less wafer
transmogrifates at
the spoken words Hoc es Corpus

Genutim, non factum
magic
thinking is nothing like

what you thought, child.

The message is believable, the messengers
may
be otherwise. EH? ***-eye-say-- eee- eh?

Self-evidence is acceptible, take a hold,
get agrippa comprehension

sweet-almost
persuasive enough to mask the bitter
ever
after taste of century eggs left in the fridge too long

Biome, bio-me, self-effident-icacious
conch-ious
ness, ac
knowledged... these words lived
once,
the eggish-isms egging us on, go
on, only you...
not me, I'll wait
I've slipped, I've fallen... where's the beef? Was this a common quest?

1972. Sheizbomb, pirate orange sunshine.
1973. We reached escape velocity
1974. Trajectory changed
1975. Lost contact, she's near Cuyguna
1976. Prego
1977. Aha, the reason is born

Future 2019 will seem as real as you may
imagine. I promise,

Ever after, all, as real as you may
imagine. I promise

look, see self evident truth, act asif you know
and understand
angel talk

there remains a rest for the cadabre we inhabit,
"Dancing Queen" "Fernando"
Abba's body of disco hits, missed
by missing one decade and a half,

in sanct-if-ication vacation
to become a hermit when I grew old, if ever,

hoc corpus, eh, as long as faith remains
rememe-r-able post Sini-ification of Suffering,

(the Dragon from the East is not the beast
embodied in the west with golden head,
silver breast, brazen *****, iron legs
and flaking rusting feet of steel
stuck
in sludge ponds and stump ponds and undrained
swamps and sloughs {called wet lands by frogs and ducks})
Ah, so

The golden-green-blue dragons gracing slotmachines,
lure hopers to the slime, not
green Nickleodean slime, real slime from century eggs white
jelly gone dark, dark brown and stinky...

even if i'd tried, I'd never have imagined
eating a century egg
sans chewing, just
gulp
swallow it whole. Din't choke gk kg.

deja vu? no, you missed something.

waiting is being
Dalai Lama, half-scientist, half-otherwise aware
there, in exile,
remains hoping a peace past standing under the
acknowledging of good
and evil,

new mercies on one side, meaculpa, mea
maxima culpa,
on the other.

Who pays? Me or Jesu or the pariah one step
up from a cockroach?
Wait and see. Be still.

Don't ask Mother Teresa, she had no clue.
But she finished what she began,
that was her plan,

skip as much purgatory as abody can stand
imagining worth it all.

Me, says the hermit,
I took the grace Noah found. Wait and see. Get ready.

Google translate the Latin Mass, then imagine it
being a message you must hearken to

drum drumm drummmed into your brain before
your prefrontal
cortextual tester circuits formed and your responses

were ever etched
on the tables of your faith belivin' childheart,
sweetheart,

just think, what if good news gathering is
even-jelly-if I can. Evangelical, if I say-tion sugar pi,
event-tually we see, fine,
details, points to every true story

a bed of nails no liar may rest upon

'fi say so, semper fi.

{evangelicum laude graduates bher no bad news in ever}
--phi beta kappa, key that opens what?-- do you know

what meaning signals breathe? beat?

Take great gulping gasps of air,
affording your self
evident right

to surface, as a bubble you can breathe in.
I think we're alone now

there doesn't seem to be any one around, now

1977, that was four whole decades ago?

Right. And whenever you are, dear reader, this was
ever ago. I testify, I examined this life.

It has been worth the effort. Now I wait. Still.
Try it. Here, there,

no condemnation, the act it self just
is null-ift before asif goes whatif and we lose our value,

we balance madness. We work closely with Cleo,
she handles historical re visioning.

time out-- essential term screams for discretion, get to the grain---
What noise is this... mmmmm
Muse- muse- just, muse like
music, drummm drummm hummmmm
Define, fine, granularity, like salt or sand or sugar
but qualia
mysterium familiarus

Term definition. Lord means h'laf weardan, {Welsh}
warden,
protector of our bread,
by which man does not live alone,
owner of the tower in the vinyard where your captive enemies
languish in your wishless hate.

We wait,

we companions be, joined by the leaven from the sky

leaving footprints in granulated sugar salted sand,
feel it,

sorta sticky, like toe-jam. like mebbe toejam spreader
and the Walrus was
CS Lewis level mere signposts at degrees of little thinker
steps tick tic tic
spiraling
clock wise from up,
counter-clockwise from down

forward, ever onward, off is impossible in the land of on,
here for ever is
too much good stuff,

but that lasts (to the same level of qualia judgment degree)
mere mortal moments

flash. Here we be, wondering and wandering, to an fro,
to get a feel,

for real. This can't go on for ever, they say.
Shall we see, I say... as I passed away.
Life goes on, and no lie follows

Listen,
it's finished, that's all we need say. Live on. Be good,
or die trying. No lying about anything.

What if ever did begin and you simply failed to be aware?
Musing, as a pass time, not a wast of time nor a killing of time, but a use by right of time. This is my examined life. I find it worth living more loudly as I age. The ripeningin, reminds me of cheesy-ness.

— The End —