"perpetrate" poems
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
I don’t don't how much the world is tired
Of hearing again in this year that
Still tribalism and negative ethnicity
Is Gog and magog with Africa, I mean Africa
The second largest continent in the world
After Asia, being seconded by Americas,
Her only cultural overture is tribalism and tribes
Large tribes swallowing small ones
Small tribes making desperate moves
Like bush ****** in the lethal fangs of the python,
Large tribes swallowing political fruits as the small ones
In despair look, being choked by forlorn appetite,
Tribalism, listen! Leave Africa alone; stop messing up the African youth
Tell the Dinka and the Nuer of the southern Sudan to put down the arms
The arms made in the old Russia, the AK 47,
Tell them to go to Russia not to buy
Arms but books of poetry and literature
To buy Dead souls of Nikolai Gogol and
Brothers Kamarazov of Fydor Dostoyevsky,
Tribalism, listen! Am tired of introducing myself
By my clan, I don’t want to be known by my clan
I want to be known by my work; I am a poet
I sing and chant the African incantations of freedom
I do not perpetrate feelings of tribal terror
It is never my work to cement ethnicity
Tribes are good but tribalism is evil, or satanic or impish
Or gnomic or macabarous or ghastly insidious,
As its hatred is the most heinous.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 8:53 AM UTC
**Expose the culprits that hide behind the stars to perpetrate their evil
No child should be abused
Every child deserves the best**
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
Virgo
The scratching sound the pen makes
as it spills its ink upon the paper
The tension
The friction
The slight resistance and minor show of force
the ink and paper perpetrate against the words
against the writer
as if to
push back
The writer channels his muse
summons his mate
performs and act of love
embarks on an endeavor much more family to *** than he will ever admit
everytime as if it were the first
the writer
creates
© Christopher F. Brown 2013
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 8:05 PM UTC
in between the weeds
and the cactus
and the ever roaming
stinging nettle
and the occasional
blooming flowers
is where I settle
tucked away
in the corner
the only human face
weathering seasons
from first to last
covered in vine
pretending to be
the colour
just another comical error
to perpetrate the farce
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 4:49 AM UTC
So I hid it
Took it like a written confession and
swallowed it
Decades of genders, females and
males screaming, as I melted down
the word on my tongue they had fought to keep,
that they had killed for and won.
As I joined a flock of sheep who wouldn't
accept a goat
Who didn't want to listen when I wrote down
that I believed in the allegedly frown-worthy
opinion that equality should exist.
That it should be taught right from the yolk
of existence.
That it's regulation requires persistence.
They told me that prejudice was a myth
Ironic, they also told me I shouldn't exist
Told me I was lesbian, like it was an
insult, when I decided to stage a revolt and
mark the popular girl in netball
and win.
self high five
Oh dear, what a schoolgirl sin to
perpetrate.
I was taught to take hate by the masses who
yelled that
the classes of acceptance
were unnecessary
Popular girl: small correction, although
I cannot say you personally give me
a feminine ******** I'm bisexual, get it right.
Also examine the fact that you thought I'd only fight
because I wanted you.
When in fact I both loathe and pity you, you
do not understand your worth, and you don't
give proper respect to the earth of your
elders.
Who have handed down shoulder to shoulder
something different from the everyday pain.
They've handed down the hope that their strivings
were not vain, and one day this war will
cease.
The smoke of a pen, not
a gun, calling
peace.
So, I am a feminist and I call for release.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 9:57 AM UTC
- - - there are the days when
i savor my isolation,
i savor my freedom.
in this state is when
Urania came forth
to lift my chin,
to lift my gaze
from finite walking-path
unto Eternity of existence.
She placated me, brought me
to surrender of my Self.
and i lay staring at the ceiling,
longing for a little rest knowing
i did this to myself, and
i don’t complain to you.
- - - there came a conclusion of
self-destruction as
the only thing to depend on.
and i destroy myself
through entertainment
while
fighting tooth and nail to survive.
- - - Sunday 5.30ante.
began Friday 9.30post,
Saturday 9.30post is twenty-four.
i am four short of thirty-six.
and my turbulent stomach awaits
the imbibement of a hard benzo –
(shorten’d word to be hip.
[also the reason i used an infinitive])
by this point i am deranged
and trace mildly. not just
a fancied flight alongside a reality
my mind deceives me of. not
just an insaned delirium
i perpetrate. maintain. sustain.
disdain.
space to insure emphasis,
- - - have i been outward too long.
i sweat naked in the snow thanking,
no Deity,
but instead handful of
multi-color’d, shaped, strength downers.
and i smell’d on death
perfume of flowers as
its figure look’d me over –
naked freezing wretch –
and extend’d claw with
rotting flesh no where
in pace with this vessel’s.
i began to blue, and the
shadow of my end
falter’d in my mind.
lungs, in impulse,
heaved air within themselves.
stretching frozen sternum.
- - - let’s take some math,
how about:
zn+1 = zn2 + c
i am patient,
please explain in detail.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 5:44 AM UTC
I look at the curves of your body
And start crookedly plotting
If you think that's so naughty
Then give me the straight answer
To cure my curious cancer
I want you to be forward with me
Instead of slowly torturing me
With lines that aren't crossed
And a fair amount of frost
While I await your zero degree angle
To match the direction my tears dangle
In some ways
Those who are gay
Have reached the month of May
In terms of being able to see the light of day
But nothing guarantees fulfillment
Not all the laws Capitol Hill sent
Or enough money to pay rent
I'm still stuck in the basement
I chase after a singular simple chance
But then you see the parabola in my pants
And flee in a serpentine motion of avoidance
To fill my crystalline ocean of annoyance
Maybe I shouldn't be so particular
Or maybe our lives are perpendicular
Because you're a vulture
That stands on what it's eating
So I live inside a culture
Where **** falls from the ceiling
There is straight answer coolant
Dripping from your curved bullet
That travels to me in a straight line
In order to perpetrate a great crime
Of stealing my innocence
Making me act in defense
Until I realize I'm not the best
And solemnly settle for less
At night I am crisscrossed
By dreams of a hip toss
That came from my blind spot
When a straight line made knots
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 3:55 AM UTC
and so life makes life.
the strange beauty
of pollination.
flowers allowing insects
to mediate, relegate, perpetrate
and consummate their ancient ritual,
their sacred act of reproduction.
A third party multispecies **** of sorts.
But the bees never get off.
still,
truly takes the task a touch further
than the innumerable sea animals
who mate in mass,
whole schools of fish
releasing egg and *****
anonymously
in a surging swarm of ***
generating the next generation.
and so life makes life.
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 5:27 AM UTC
***We are hittin' hard in Oakland
Word!
We are hittin' hard in L.A.
Word!
Cleveland, Chicago & Yo-town is on fire
Word, word, word!
Atlanta's proper
Word!
And in Miami, we are mooovin' somethin'
Hmmmmm.
Turn this ***** out
Oaktown posse they will
Turn this ***** out
Yeah boy, they will
Turn this ***** out
M.C. Hammer he will
(chorus ends early)
Hammer, you ain't hittin' in New York
What?
So what you gon' do about that, Hammer?
I'm gon' turn this ***** out.
Hammer, he is...
Strong like a lion, no denyin'
I'm in effect and you suckas are tryin'
To get with me, you can't hang
Doin' it like this, I'm in with a bang
Goin' boom like thunda, and you wonder,
How in the world can the Hammer be underneath me?
He's gonna beat me, say yes to the master and I will teach thee
(chorus)
Turn this ***** out
Turn this ***** out
Turn this ***** out
Turn this ***** out
Hammer, tell 'em how you came up babeeee!
I was a student, now I'm the teacher,
I was a member, now I'm the preacher,
I was a worker, and you were the boss,
Now I'm gettin' paid and you're takin' the loss
Once says stop, the other says flee
No, don't perpetrate M.C. Hammer is the feature
Step off, you punk, no fear, I'm M.C. Hammer and I came here to...
(chorus)
I'm improvin', better start schoolin
Headed to the top where I'll be rulin'
On top, of hip-hop, I'm in effect and you're not
Your records aren't cool, your shows are weak
Duel with the Hammer and meet defeat
Every night, every week,
I'm comin' correct, you don't want none of me.
(chorus)
X2
I keep hearin' what you sayin'
"Yo Hammer, we knowin' New York's on the wayin'"
I don't care where you from,
I make most look silly, and others look dumb
Yeah suckas, you should, run,
I am, def on the stage, pumpin' at the club
Hammer is an eagle, and you a dove
(chorus)
(funky beats & breaks)
(chorus)
I'm from Oaktown, B-boy straight down
Takin all comers, whoever want to get some
I'm original, you're digital
You want somethin' to say, you're show is pitiful
Don't worry, I'm in tact
Whatever I say, the Hammer will back
Twice as strong, It's goin' on
And I willll...
(chorus)***
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1q2TA2zPtac
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 8:32 PM UTC
Lovely elves and charming witches
Wizards with great power
Sorcerers and dragons
I've read of these for hours.
Woodland imps and fairies
Their faces may seem pure
But these creatures are spirits
And they are meant to lure
Spirit guides and shamans
Fetishes and feathers
Burning sage and totums
Beating drums together
Werewolves and vampires
Voodoo dolls with porcelain faces
These creatures are monsters!
They have ***no redeeming graces!
HALLOWEEN IS WICKED!***
Yet it is for SALE!
Kids dressed up as GOULIES
*And DEVILS WITH A TAIL!
**SATAN ISN'T BEAUTIFUL!
The devil isn't CUTE!
HE'S HERE TO DESTROY US!
Yet we dress KIDS in his SUIT!***
Yes, they are romanticized
The source of tons of ink
I've even written of them
A fact from which I shrink!
I repent of doing this
And as popular as they are
I will now delete them
I will no longer share.
I will not praise this "beauty"
Or perpetrate a lie
I've had some trouble reading
Now I know the reason why
These deceptions grieve The Spirit
My holy heart. My SOURCE.
These ideas are of evil
I will not endorse.
I could have done so quietly
Never made a show
But you need to read this
*You really need to know!*
I may seem a fool for writing this
You won't like this share
But if I'm now unpopular
I DON'T REALLY CARE.
And, Christians, be ye HOLY!
Think on something nice!
Think on God the Father
And The Lord Jesus Christ!
SoulSurvivor
(C) 6/27/2016
Jun 27, 2016
Jun 27, 2016 at 6:12 AM UTC
The mighty hand of God
pinches the valve in my heart,
blocking blood flow,
causing clots,
His fingers blot out the sun,
and close my mind,
to art and poetry,
His breath and mere mention of his son,
send me in to convulsion,
and I spring forth in revolution!
Garnered force during rest,
attacked at the weakest point of night,
this hand, your hand, coil around like snake,
sheathed in good graces,
appearance transforms to wolf,
dogged teeth reared, mouth foaming,
howling of justice, in a wild froth.
I have no choice but to cast forth the stones,
from bile duct, passed by my good graces.
Now a tired warrior,
I exist as a Devil in disguise,
my war paint faded,
as I'm touched by the longing,
I can understand the plight,
but I can't stand being poked and prodded,
by the Mighty hands that choke,
and they all Know the workings of valve and heart,
as they perpetrate
'His' artful form.
http://www.robross.ca
May 15, 2010
May 15, 2010 at 8:50 AM UTC
My ancestors (i hesitate to even call them such)
came to this land centuries ago
they came with nothing
hoping to start a new life
but this is not about my proud heritage
not about immigrants following the
American Dream (Nightmare would be more accurate)
No
my ancestors
my White Anglo Saxon Protestant ancestors
descended upon this pristine landmass
like so many parasitic WASPs
injecting their prey (the people, the land) with venom
laying their eggs that would **** the hosts upon hatching
No
my ancestors
who helped perpetrate an ethnic cleansing
the likes of which 20th century fascists could only dream of
did so under the title of Manifest Destiny
divine right
their religion masking opportunistic genocide
No
my ancestors
laid the foundation
for the greatest country in the world
where ALL (White, English, Heteronormative, Cisnormative, Land-owning, Slave-Owning, Women Hating , Native-American-Murdering, Capitalistic, Perverted) MEN are created equal
No
my ancestors
partook in genocide
condoned slavery
oppressed women (and every other divergent identity)
destroyed the environment
and did so with such arrogance
such unheard of righteousness
No
my ancestors
were the lifeblood of America
the lifeblood of oppression
and that blood runs through my veins
the screams of American-Indian Warriors
of African Slaves
of Women labeled Witches and Gays and People of Color and anyone who opposed the hideous behemoth, anyone who dared to be different
their screams echo in my head
and i am ashamed
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 12:11 PM UTC
*Woe is you not me,
woe is the life we live lying to compensate
how we really feel,
is it something to be proud of -
that I have you only to not have you
when it's most convenience,
touch me fast kiss me quick,
hide away, don't say that,
cause "He" might hear you,
shhh,
lets pretend & perpetrate nothing going on,
nothings as it seems, I I can't win,
we can't loose,
hide away this longing yearning
un-penetrating bound we share.
Hold off don't kiss me just yet cause
wallowing in regrets a thing I must do,
save face and be untrue be in debt
and
live as if there isn't anything between us,
nothings sacred anymore,
we have to give off this illusion
that this friendships nothing more.
Pretend as you love me never let me feel you though,
hold me close but quickly let me go,
move in and out of me but don't fall asleep once we finish
hurry go to your room, please,
fastly hurry, shh don't make a sound.
shhh, do you hear that sounds like keys entering a lock,
please stop wait ok go slow, slower,
I love you too & love you more,
do it again deeply this time make me pop,
your hairs blowing from the wind in my bed room
since I left the window open.
Sshh did you hear that wait, ok , don't stop,
this is the love we share sadly it's not enough, come with me
and please hurry
baby hurry
I'm exploding,
climaxing together feels so good,
but wait shhh,
don't you dare move,
don't speak,
hold up, run to your room
hurry up,
Shhh baby stop shivering
Please no more cause...
He's coming home.*
Always Me Ayeshah ®
Copyright 1977 - Present ©
K.A.C.L.N ©
All right reserved ®
Jan 17, 2014
Jan 17, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
Just a whats rumblin' through my mind
I now have the space and the time to reclaim whats mine
I don't worry about those who don't know me
If you are an iron to sharpen the mind--then show me
Otherwise you just missing out on what is divine about my being
Its my life that I am livin', and oh the things I am seeing
Got me happy that I can share the way I live
and when I got it, you know to a friend I will give...
Give me a token from your mind, and call yourself a true comrade
But your affection is as explosive as the bombs were over Baghdad
Your ill reprieve is your number one ingredient
So I wrote that *** off-- to the Queen you fail to be obedient
Therefore there is no use for the waste that is You in my presence
Unless you can cherish my essence-- mind, body and soul so effervescent
I hope my words ***** your spirit, because you know your *** is fake
But its all good-- sit that *** on the curb-- stop trying to perpetrate...
I regulate the things that come and go out of my life
They don't know who I be--I don't lose no sleep at night
I got my life on the path I chose, and love those that have been able to stand by
So now I will share with them a piece of my Life pie
Goodbye to all that ******** of the past, I am blessed with no stress
And my legion of Angels protect me while keeping me at my best
No contest
Can't see me even if you had the light of His Holy Spirit
Dem cyant get close to the Queen I am, and so they fear it
But they hear it
Beating in the pulse, inhaling my energy is in the air
You could never replicate who I Am-- not even if you cloned my DNA from my hair
Effervescently vivacious
Yeah-- I am all the way live
And when I see you on the street-- best believe I'll walk on by
I bump up the volume as I dance to my life track
Peace to all you haters, losers and fakers
Because this Queen ain't lookin' back...
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 5:48 AM UTC
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation
If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation
An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation
Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes
The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes
Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time
Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
Swanky sauntering swagger of a sashay. Verve’s chutzpah, moxie savvy's panache, dexterously agile acuity. Articulate coordinated excellence and prowess’s talented exceptional. Objectified manifest's eidetic prospectus's invertible investiture's infinite possibilities perpetrate incorporeity ideology's perfectible ontology!
Intrepid intuitive intrigue, mystical magical multifariously versatile nefarious nemesis. Malfeasance evocative tout, execrating eventuation evocative expletives, executant tour de force entelechy's apotheosis. Ne plus ultra irrefragable opulence, erudite illuminism numinous piquant poignancy. Dynamic livid lurid vagile puissance. Lucid orotund sonorous fecund resilience.
Eloquent exuberance felicitous transcendent epiphany. Nuance tactile audacious preternatural metaphysical clairvoyant imperative. Augur quantum ominous avant-garde profundity, virulent vivid indomitably indefatigable cogent fatidic, quintessential deft. Celerity innovative veracious metamorphic, adroit nimble avid austere.
Fulgurous astute atman clever crafty rapacious sagacious. Effulgent zealous fastuous temerity machismo enunciation diction, imperative repartee. Exserted protuberance educement proclivities succinctly ostentatious. Ardent arduous inductive adamant incursion ostensible hornswoggling swashbuckler!
Aug 14, 2020
Aug 14, 2020 at 2:55 AM UTC
*though the mills of God grind slowly
yet they grind exceeding small
though with patience
he stands waiting
with exactness grinds he all.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow*
for the wicked there's comeuppance
yes, for plagiarist and troll
it may not be in present tense
but evil has its toll
for the greedy human tyrant
for the fat politico
the rich are as a vagrant
trudging through the snow
****** Pol *** Stalin
Napoleon's Waterloo
in disgrace and fallen
into hell's external stew
the world is a millstone
it grinds fine, or so it's said
born here crying and alone
finally we're dead
don't envy the deceiver
or those who perpetrate
they'll be the receiver
meet poetic Fate
God has a sense of humor
those who blot society
may end up with a tumor
in the end will not be free
those who think they're "first"?
pity the poor fools
they're actually cursed
to be the devil's tools
there's no skating through this life
they will all be doomed
the scepter is a poison knife
the coffer is a TOMB.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/23/2015
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
In the bain marie of life
The boiling,
evaporated
water underneath,
Scolds untrained fingers and hands.
Unscathed are the extremities of workers who serve:
Little Hitlers and Maos,
awaiting to have their egos inflated, and their endowments stroked.
All so they can perpetrate atrocities in a world craving for more, entertainment.
All so they can penetrate their
animosity
towards girls craving for more
containment.
Prepare ingredients in metal tray, made from
Futuristic technology. Erected steel, carved and shaved,
moulded to perfection.
Finesse in
Postmodern civilisation,
Allowing hungry
Delinquent to stuff
cake holes with garbage.
Gruel, bangers, tripe and trotters, spotted **** black pudding, haggis, bulls testicles.
Plastic.
Gum, and wrapper.
Thrown,
in bin.
Mess and stink.
Perforating orifices and permeating nasal passageways.
Kitchen sink,
The end of day arrives
Sanitation process occurs.
The end of shift awaits.
She takes off sweat filled hair cap,
Takes off juice stained chef pants.
Kicks off steel capped boots.
Pulls out
Smelly,
Sock.
Rest in bed,
to awake for new day.
Gravity raises the sun.
Rinse and repeat
bain marie
reheat.
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 11:03 AM UTC
As she danced before Herod and Herodias,
Salome waved her flowing veil,
Which fluttered and whirled through the air around her
And rippled like a silken sail.
"Ah, your daughter dances divinely,"
Said Herod to his calculating wife.
"She dances as though she's walking on air.
I've never seen so much grace in my life."
After a frenzied flurry and flash,
Salome stopped and bowed to the king.
"My dear," said Herod, "what may I give you?
Half of my kingdom? Anything!
"Tell me what your heart is set on.
I'll give you whatever you desire."
Salome looked at her mother, who
Smiled and nodded--her eyes on fire.
"Your incomparable kindness compels me
To answer simply to a king so great.
I ask for one thing only and that
Is John the Baptist's head on a plate."
Said; done. The executioner
Soon returned carrying John's head,
Which Salome gave to her bloodthirsty mother,
Who was delighted that he was dead.
What about those who keep on dancing
Salome's dance? They pivot and swirl,
Contemplating how to placate
The wishes of others while they twirl?
Do they conspire to perpetrate
Division and discord--not unity and peace?
Have love and kindness and thoughtfulness
Given way to heartless caprice?
Are they moved by seductive wiles
As if compassion does not matter?
Do they seek above all things
Vengeance on a silver platter?
- by Bob B
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 9:49 AM UTC
A passel of rascals;
The cause of the hassle,
Guilty of the catcalls,
Would normally have pratfalls.
Never suffer from blackballing;
Their ethics are appalling
But greed is calling the shots.
In the end what have we got?
We have a den of thieves
Rolling up their sleeves
To count the loot they stole
Fulfilling their roles of criminals;
Not the least subliminal,
But right out front to be seen
And pictured on magazine covers
With their blow-dried lovers.
Hair and ******* by Mattel
They perpetrate their hell
On all but their rich buddies
And fool the fuddy-duddies
With their rancid ballyhoo.
Yes, they rob some rich too,
But some never knew it;
Rich, not smart, they blew it.
Every generation, this nation
Sires a new batch of vermin
And we have to determine
If this is the new litter or a loner
But instead the fools get a *****
Over some new crook or other
That can afford jet planes to fly
But claims he is a regular guy.
Once the country is a toilet
They’ll keep trying to spoil it
By boiling the bones of the dead
And murdering us in our beds
Because they don’t need us
Except when they want to beat us.
They can just pay each other.
But the country won’t recover.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
at a glimpse i clock the sky
a curtain's been draped
and we are all shaded
all of nature shares one direction
narrowing on the horror :
a munking and blotted violation
the sun has filled with dark ink
an embolism out of the order of life
voiding over us
over the city
the world described beyond
all voided over
i fall
dropped
and shucked
the people around me go simple
dumb and bound with crimple gawps
we are mugged by the sight
i feel like a farmed over minefield
furrows being turned
trotted out
anointed fears climb my throat
it is a show sung ill
sol
darker sunk
than its surrounding leadened soak
yet ringed tightly with an annihilating halo
practical thought becomes clotted
and my primal processor is tinkered with
evil witterings squirrel about in my thinker
my being is topped up with depravity
i must surely **** someone ?
but who..
(that kid with drool ? /
that business suit with brand name trainers ?)
and for what reason ?
i madly stare about
look at them ; so human and null
potential victims all
raking in snapshots of this ecliptic venom
adding to the vat collective online
Prune The Brutes !
it is The Eighth Day and I know my role
Ha !
such livid thoughts scheme
i shall wait out this exposure looked down upon
take some pics with the others
perpetrate goodly behaviour
mimic the tossers
pass through the ordeal
with communal protection
and live another day
happy slapped
with fresh mad
thought
Apr 18, 2022
Apr 18, 2022 at 12:28 PM UTC
an innocent little girl
violated
by grotesque men
their sullying hands
put upon her
such deeds
deserve a punishment
most severe
she so angelic
she so dear
her innocence
stolen away
the horror of what she's been through
shall stay indelibly marked in her mind
the evil those men
did perpetrate
calls for Indian law
to bring down
a solid sentencing weight
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 2:43 AM UTC
My dream's they rebel against me, they fill my sleeping hours with visions of you,
I nightly storm of hope that evaporates in the cold morning light leaving me as empty as the discarded whiskey bottle by my bed,
How cruel they are to place you in my arms when such things may never occur,
to place your body next to me to press your lips to mine.
These things I dream of in the day but to feel them as real as the warmth of the sun when I rest my weary bones is a sin I perpetrate upon myself without malice or forethought.
Why must I torture myself so when I have no hope that you would be mine.
Is this a punishment for living such a mundane life that could never entice you?
Is this karma returning my pain ten fold for so many wrongs against my
fellow man?
No matter though for when I sleep there you will be, I will feel your
warmth your breath your touch for a few fleeting hours when my soul will soar with joy and when the dawn breaks my slumber let the pain start afresh for such is my lot without you
Mar 17, 2010
Mar 17, 2010 at 5:19 PM UTC
patterned love responses
spiraling outward from
the chest in search
of hearth and
hemlock to
soothe the brittle
bones of a
generation lost
to time.
I remember a feeling
once felt in
the spacious quality
of my life
in its infancy.
a 'coo' to my
mother--her face
beaming through
the unknown
harshness of life
yet to touch me.
father was out
working, adding
more and more
points of stress to
his life to provide
for the seeds
he sewed in the
soil of his youthful
ignorance.
adulthood snuck
up on me too and
now its too late to
go back.
these days
the only coup
that will save me
is the one
I perpetrate
against myself.
the one that
corrodes my beliefs
and illuminates
the extent of their
misconceptions about
the world and
what it means
to be me.
loyal are the lashes
that lick my flesh
serving the blood
that drips and
flows to the
soil of my own
wasted youth.
all I can do now
is look forward
to the unknown
that looms ahead;
terrifying and promising
failure and change
alike.
pray to your altars
and cry to the
invisible mute gods;
they will answer
in kind in the
laughter of children
playing upon
your spent life.
and so it goes--
life eats life
and mother's die
too.
use your voice
while you have
it--speak of clouds
and storms that
broke you, of winter
and the living
silence you've endured.
praise be to the
broken and the
weary of heart, for
in the breaking is
the great gift
of life
and what you
become after each
shattering is nothing
short of your
endless potential.
Feb 28, 2021
Feb 28, 2021 at 11:26 AM UTC
At the end of the day I can find no other place to lay the blame but on myself.
Although it possibly may be my demise, I allow myself to care for those that refuse to see past their own desire.
Intently I give the best of me and in turn I unintentionally add fuel to their self indulgent fire.
At the end of the day I must admit that the reason I feel the way I do soley rests on my shoulders.
How ridiculously nieve of me to believe that the same rules you set forth, you yourself would abide by.
Consistently ever changing are the expectations placed upon my shoulders, I fail to see a reason for me to try.
At the end of the day there is only a vaugue reflection staring back from the other side of the mirror.
More often than not I find myself trying to mask my angst and perpetrate that all is as it should be.
A sullen little marrionet playing pretend, frantically attempting to hide her strings so the world will think she is free.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 5:52 AM UTC