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D L Smith Aug 2016
"Here he lies." The priest almost cries.

The crowd they sway with the sadness.

"I dream alone." Says the Queen on her own.

Their small world trembles in the madness.

Not a word can be heard, a silence over the village.

Not a sound can be made, people wonder if they will pillage.

Deep inside they cry with fear, because their King is no longer near.

The hush that is upon their land.

So soft, un heard, the last bit of hope.

It died within the King's hand.

D. L. Smith 8/25/2016
Sofia Von Jul 2014
Bewitched in the bass
Too much tail ta chase
Say he like tha way i slurp, no straw
Just Raw, Joint-click-lighter-flick
herb's tha word
mums out for the night slammin her beau just like the dough
to my room,
pop a shroom in Cancún
**** the doom of that mother ****** test.
due in a few
This ***** slew molly be on me
Pop an ollie
flip the switch bae
lets ditch this day and ****
like its flowin poetry SLAM
thighs thunder for dat lightning ****.
Crocs...
Imma bring that **** back.

We've seized this moment by storm
Now Lets tear the walls down
Rage
Pillage
Prosper
Party
This land is our land
Now let your freedom flag fly
Lets get higher than the sky
And cry cuz nothing tastes like forever

Baby's powder makes the urking voice louder to DO SOMETHING instead of this hollow nothing
I stuff with stories and dress in Lubriderm
Cuz that ***** soft, baked
this cake ain't delicious
Logan Robertson May 2017
A Rogue Mind Attacks Manchester


A rogue mind descends on a village square
ravishing it's children without a prayer.
Birds of peace gather and fight the fire
on it's wings rest hopes, civility inspires.

Up in the sky clouds weep at the mass loss
of young ones taken early in bearing the cross.
From this World, the descendants left in pain,
relatives and love ones befallen, crying in vain.

It hurts me to see the breadbasket of life
filled with ISIS and terrorist inciting strife.
For the seeds they plant grab at our hearts,
such devilish intertwines taking our lives apart.

How I wish a drone peaks into their yellow skies,
taking them all out, like an eye for an eye.
Maybe so that's the solution for their pillage,
so, now, the World be tighter than the Olympic villages.

Logan Robertson

5/24/17
Lights out,
Sleep child,
sleep.

You're only dreaming.

     There are no monsters under the bed.

~

They are in my head.
Unimaginary,
wreaking havoc.

Pillage my heart

~

Sleep away your pains,
  or never wake up.

You've been asleep all along.
Stephan Jul 2016
.

Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Allowing the beasties free reign in the village
Bellowing out o’er the wickedest sound

Pacing the streets, seeking out bits of garbage
Leaving their stains on the innocent few
Leering in windows where children are hiding
Tender young things and so easy to chew

Thieves in the night lurk about come the morning
Stealing the sun at the break of the dawn
Drinking of sewage a’ flow in the gutters
Checking off names as the many are gone

Peering ‘round corners, down alleys, in shadows
Seeking the favor of all who do grieve
Laughing in spite of the torment now growing
Licking their lips in the hope you believe

Roaming in groups so the followed outnumber
Say what you will for the king does not hear
Lost in his throne made of mirrors that flatter
Shivering, cowering, caving to fear

Deaf to the villagers asking for reason
Blind to the pillage befalling this land
Dumb, well I guess that just goes without saying
Nary a care what the people demand

Feasting on turkey, potatoes and gravy
Raising a glass to the enemy proud
Taking a stand against those who support him
Locking the front doors while yelling aloud

“Carry your torches, your pitchforks, your honor
It matters not for this evil shall win
Even when gone there are echoes of anger
Lingering on till they come back again

Give them your all, what you’ve poured your heart into
Down on your knees, bow to them one and all
Step over rock and the piles of rubble
This castle will stand even when the walls fall

Shout all you like as no change is forthcoming
Accept it or flee, you think I give a ****
When you are gone many more will replace you
Now pass those peas and a slice of that ham”


So roam the beasties, their teeth ever sharpened
Fanning the flames as so many are burned
Tearing apart what the people envisioned
Silly to think that they somehow had learned

Nothing so happy with no ever after
Always the same, it will happen again
But unlike some other long winded stories
Sadly in this I can not say “the end”

Watching the rise and the fall of a kingdom
Walls once rebuilt again tumble the ground
Thankfully I can peruse from a distance
Witnessing all without hanging around
Martial Teacher Dec 2017
It really won't make a difference
When you're not really living
You're just walking chained
Following what is said
Working when told to work
Sleeping when told to sleep
Tempting fate with a shield instead of a sword.

Laughter followed with slaughter
Mind tricks to pillage your sanity cut off breathing
When all it takes is one crimson line to black out
The possibilities are endless
So many test streaks what leads to your grade A result?
You may as well be behind a mask
The most pathetic part of every waking day
Is created routines to follow.

Headless without sight the masters speak
Success? How far you manage to climb
No no don't get cocky
You receive the left over bone with no meat
Imagine actually having a vision
Head glued to your shoulders
No longer living under the word.

If all of this was a dream
Where we're slaves to our mind
The "what if" thoughts
The voice in your ear
"You should die you'd be better eating dirt"
Does life actually have meaning
When you yourself give up?
Kara Jean Feb 2018
I take another sip of my, “10% I am fine”

I feel my heart in side my head

My life is in reverse there is no death, just loneliness and complications

I seem to pretend

I envy the blessed, yet I have many things while I digress

Don’t trust my flight because I never was told to be polite

My goals were not born , they seemed to morph into a unfiltered ready to pillage this

I am woman

No need for a seat belt

I am hell and I feel there is nothing left
Traveler Oct 2018
There is no running
From such crimes
The witness is always
Behind these eyes
The guard dogs barking
In your paints
Is a simple warning
In advance
I'll pillage your loven'
As I rapture your flesh
And I'll always return
For what ever's left!
Traveler Tim
spontaneously written
Jeremy Lauzon Jul 19
I hear the sounds
Seems to quiver my martial senses
Praying illusions of the baying hounds
Give me a moment
To absorb this recollection

Hate to hear it
A sorry crime
Flowing through my spine

Wait to fear it
A wise man's words remain
Stop yelping this dismay

You've made it home
Was behind me
Really this cold?
Or is there a difference in heat

You hear the cries of the wolf
Was the planted seed
Really this old?
Or am I chained by the disease?

Visions have Faded
Glory pains have remained
Delusions are needed
Let this game be marked
Upon my waiting grave

His words were deep
You were never week
As I pillage and weep
Waiting for sleep
Seems i forgot how to eat
RJP Jan 28
Tomorrow never comes.
Tomorrow morphs into today, growing tentacles of pressure and deadline slinking round precious time.
Tomorrow is the myth that keeps us going into the hazed purple dark, only to vanish in bleaching daybreak.
Tomorrow is the pipedream we search for in bedsheets, neglecting the canaries of impending doom, the warming abolition of plague civilisation.
Tomorrow seems detached, pushed into the outer orbit like the catastrophic bombs hailing and howling in Syria.
Tomorrow hates us today a mongrel race but yearns for yesterday, the tender embrace of tinted times, always better
Tomorrow feels the wound of every hour passing by and sets feet into erratic stuttered taping heart breaking out of caged chest, passive but untamed,
Tomorrow is sitting waiting for all of us, unsure when we're to    arrive, shaking stripped down in a naked hot mess seeing the damage we've done today, fearful of more pillage and ****.
Thom Jamieson Nov 2018
In every direction, to the limits of sight
Squirrels
Scrambling to fill their cheeks
With treasures to sustain
The coming sleep
In every corner, of every block
Squirrels
Frantic, pacing, scouring ground
For imaginary ignitable jewels
Dropped in a dream the night before
Down the paths of affluence
Opulent interests guarded with teeth
Squirrels
Frenzied hoarding for more
Smart black top-coat,
Covering a shiny shell,
On stiff skids of leather
And an armor of importance
Spitting orders, to the others
To forage and pillage,
And steal the nuts
To fatten and fan the
Flames of false dignity
And good intention
Inside holes hidden deep.
I love squirrels, the furry kind.  I carry peanuts in my pocket at all times should I see one.  They are simple, non-judgmental, and what you see is what you get.  I love squirrels, the furry kind
David Hutton Mar 15
The deceased piling up in battle,
Enough blood to fill more than one barrel.
Crows pillage the scene,
Nibbling on their cuisine.
From a distance you can hear them cackle.
Inspired by Vasily Vereshchagin's "The Apotheosis of War" painting.
giofuellos Oct 2018
The tree are whispering in hushed silent tones
Their voices carried softly by the wind
Caressing the whole forest with their hymns
Suffused in their cries, the arrogance
And greed, and vanity of men
Men that were tasked to guard creation!

Their chants deafening, echoing, increasing
In brave tumultuous waves
Growing ever louder
Pushing the rivers and tributaries into the seas
Infused in the currents
The laments of the helpless
Trampled, and ravaged, and killed
With violence and impunity!

Be wary of the axeman, the hunter, and the miner
They are lurkers, waiting in the dark canopies
Waiting for a chance to **** and pillage
To **** the forest out of its wits
Until it loses its lushness and vitality
'Til it surrenders its grip from the divine earth!

Be wary of the forest ranger
For they are the ones that orchestrates
The relentless and appalling ******
That decimates lives, hopes, and aspirations
They perpetuate the madness
They are the harbingers of chaos, they are destruction
Their charm, vile and putrid
To ever allow them recite their prose would be death!

But never despair,
The sleepers have woken
Those with quiet ears slowly hears the noise and commotion
The deniers have silenced their self-serving lips
Await that moment, when the silence is fractured
By the forest, howling in raging defiance
Justice will be swift, the wolves will be unraveled as sheep!

And only then says the oldest of the trees
Can the children of the forest roam free.
Ylzm Apr 20
In the days of Noah,
none ate meat and all spoke the same tongue;
and neither race nor religion exists, nor divides;
Yet blood shed in wickedness,
flowed as rivers watered the land.

In the days of Noah,
there was no writing, for there was no need:
for promise made was promise kept;
Yet lies filled the land,
the more insidious for the purer the tongue was.

In the days of Noah,
each man was a city, living to see his seventh generation,
and thought accursed if lived not past his 300th birthday;
Yet age led not to wisdom but only foolish old men,
and thus ordained not to live past 120 years.

In the days of Noah,
the clime was pleasant with not a rainbow in the skies,
and feasting and merrymaking alfresco all day and all night was life;
Yet **** and pillage were common,
for might was right, and the sword, the judge.

In the days of Noah,
knowledge and technologies were of the gods,
revealed to man by the sons of the gods;
Yet giants and mutants, of beast and man,
roamed and devastated the earth, the seas and the skies.

In the days of Noah
naming creates, even as animals were named,
and things unimaginable today were named into existence;
Yet the gift was abused,
and man wanted to make a name for himself.

And the days of Noah shall be here again.
We may soon speak, in appearance, a common tongue,
helped by the written word and Alexa.
And man is already making a name for himself:
His abilities are never more justified and demonstrated;
And if all on Earth are agreed,
there is nothing on earth and in the heavens that is beyond him.
His zenith comes and the Day of the Son of Man is soon to be!

So shall it be then. Amen and Amen.
TD May 22
Her sullen lips are
poised for obscurity.
A delicious pout
to rage against
Father Time.

Oh vanity
you fair bewitching
maiden.
How you ruin
any chances
for contented sighs.

When you wail at
the ravages of delinquency
as if they were willing lines
to pillage your face.

You are only chasing after jealousy
and dying before Snow White
utters her coquettish blessing.

And to think
all this time wasted
when you could’ve grasped at sublime
with shattered glass in your hands.
Sean sutton Apr 10
Being ****** dry
No more spillage
****** in by you
The darkness of abyss

Seeing you passing by
My heart pillage
The sashes blue
Of being dismiss

My feelings don’t matter
That’s what you said
Laid on the silver platter
The thinning thread

True love that you shatter
Coming like a bull’s head
Spearing me with your ****** dagger
Marking me with your bloodshed.
Dan Aug 2018
Everyone is anxious
For Chekhov’s gun is still on the wall
It has not been fired
And we are soon approaching the next act

What do they wait for?
A provocation?!

Dear college age white boy
(Not unlike myself)
Your pseudo-nihilism bores them
We all know these things are just for show
Besides we see how much of an elitist you are
And how little you understand the words you are saying
If Nietzsche’s life were recast
You’d be the man beating the Turin Horse

Why does he say such things?
Does he understand the human mind, the human condition?!

We all wait for the collapse to come
And all of its children to return home
For we are already all aliens to each other
And we know what sweet flowers can grow from ashes
If life is to be a garden
I intend to be a worm

Does he really mean that?
We can see in his eyes he is not convinced

How long have we been going in these circles?
Or is it true that I am unique in this regard alone?
Every philosopher
Every poet
Every self perpetuating artist has their bag of tricks
I have whatever I can pillage

Everything that can be said
Has already been said
He am going back into the gallery
And drawing mustaches on all the faces

And as the audience leaves
Chekhov’s gun remains untouched, suspended by a thread

And this time only
There are no deeper meanings
Madeline Harper Aug 2018
Mountainous caverns
And cavernous depths
Plague and pillage taverns
Bridle beleaguered breaths

Forward the hour
And hoist the scattered skies
Time not to cower
Behind blatant lies

Prepare for the downfall
As the mountain gives way
Gruesome, thunderous brawl
Is my death in this day

If an avalanche is hell
Then I am surely home
Brokenly beaten and well:
Where chaos freely roams

Forget not our rise
For we are not our sins
But saints in the skies
Banefully, ****** kin

I am a vagabond in hell
And a vagabond: I am free
As heaven rings a final knell
While the mountains collapse for me
Random write, I might come back to this but I enjoyed writing this. Please let me know your thoughts
A Sad Alex Jan 1
I was a soldier of Rome
and my thoat is now split open
Split it was by a Gaul
Fighting to destroy the Republic.
I hope the earth is nourished by my blood
And life grows from it
For so much has been lost
In this senseless slaughter.
Do they not see the light of Rome?
Civilizations luster?
We bring fire to the shadows of the world
To cast them aside, tear them asunder.
Our cause is just, our will cannnot be stopped
The world shall be roman
We bring justice and order!
My sword may decorate the ground
And my armour my lifeless body
Behind me marches the strength of legions
From it ten more will take my place
For victory! For glory!










I was a warrior from Gaul
Sixteen springs alive
Cut down in my prime
To defend my home
From Rome´s thrist for land
They come forth from beyond the mountains
A ravenous, barbarous horde
They loot, and ****, and pillage
Torching everything they touch
Can they not see our life is just?
And it is peace, not man, who governs this grooves?
We live, we love, we grow
They tend to their business and we to ours.
Yet they now come
And my body may give life to the forests
And from the forests forth shall spring my brothers
To ****! For victory and glory!










I am a crow








I shall feast on them both









Life shall indeed spring forth









The maggots








The flies









And many, many more of us.
I always wanted to try my hand at a poem with historical flavor
Kay-Rosa May 6
When we were younger,
you wished to be a pirate.
You wished to pillage and plunder, brother mine.
But, of such times, you forget.
And I helped you to forget.
Rid your intensely intelligent mind
Of rotting things.
Now, you help people.
But, not to help them,
To keep yourself from becoming too bored.
I wonder, brother dear, if you were a pirate,
Would you become bored of the sea,
Bored of the pillaging and plundering?
Would you wish to come home?
Or would you continue searching for something,
Forever upon those waters of endless boredom,
Forever the bored pirate, dear brother?
Would you?
Inspired by my obsession with Sherlock Holmes, in all his forms (RDJ, Benny Cumbers, Will Ferrel, etc.) and his ever present brother, worried about his safety. They're just a bunch of big ol' softies, I swear.
Graff1980 Sep 9
Tis, an age of knightly lore,
of greasy and grizzled
wealthy nobles
that seem to signal
some sick cycle
of destruction
that they are
desirous for.

Battle born ballistic,
armament physics
of pain causing missions,
missing all mercy
because of their
Machiavelli
machinations;

Mud slickened and sweaty
armor wearing
super smelly
fellowship of fools,
discourteous tools
who ravage
and pillage
poor peasants.

Inflamed by such infractions
I chafe under the yoke
of violence and oppression,
whilst searching other actions
for the slightest scent or sight of
of human decency,

but hope is less then
a liminal sensation,
and there seems to be
no cessation of
humanity’s violent tendencies
LaNita Feb 6
we walk along the edge,
bodies lay, scattered, mangled,
leaves.
we notice tire marks in the mud,
the rains last week weeped on this scene.

the concrete feels meek,
ready to bust. feet upon its back
too much. the scores of energy
pulsing up naturally relax its stance.
the plants find single slits of space
and reach for the sun.

the land prepared to bake in the sun
with bodies of friends, slowly breaking
down. life released into the air.
we breath it in as we approach the mesquite.
we knew from glances ahead
her home was raided.
we come to find the ground shaken,
dug up, ripped with a force to ****.
she is gone and her team of nourishing cousin
are too.
none survived the pillage of the
big white truck.

bodies, leaves, roots, blood of kin
poured into her skin, charging now.
the final message is,
rebirth! alive!
my eyes fill, my heart sighs.
the dark skies claim their victory.
the black fate of new.
all must return to her womb
and live again. i return to her womb
to live again.

we say prayers over our friends
and celebrate the time they had.
days before we were working with them,
right here, amongst living, breathing
beings of the light.
we harvested,
stored bits of their coding.
hoping their roots survive the assault.

in the city, we live cloudy visions,
manicured horizon, the eye shines
bright away from the skyline.
that night eye is watchful and we see
the life walk alongside.
we see the stars slowly twisting clockwise,
we know all the vibrations have been here,
before and will always prosper.
we reenter and the movements get
harder to see.
soon the night lights are on,
we are defecating in our water
and mass murdering healing beings.
and yet they still believe in us.
still grow for our shot at life.

at the very least,
they died knowing my children and i.
they died knowing they were seen and
recognized.
and the block moves on swiftly.
we end our survey and we see
survivors! a small patch of community.
the roots all sing and stretch to
send these beings energy,
love,
attention.
look, a new bud is forming.
Cunning Linguist Aug 2018
My trap tags don't expire  
I'm an arsonist for hire  
on these bars
Watch me spit fire, yuh

Got a grill in my mouth
& a grill on my porch  
New balance on my feet,  
In my kitchen selling work  
Got grass like I'm dirt
Hit the gas like I'm first
Eating *** with a thirst
Thots be scary go to church
Give that ***** heckin hurt  
I'ma dawg ripe from birth  
Yes I'm bound to rule the Earth
And I'll pillage til it skrrt
-Bet you ain't gon take my turf
'Less you finna prove that worth
Satisfy the ladies aye
my **** got 1 inch girth

& I'm all
Foaming from the mouth like she rabid  
**** yo ***** leave her shaking,
steady rabbit
Only *** wit gold
Cos' I don't believe in average
I'm a savage with these lavish roasts
so toast to this y'all napping, woah

Gimme  t h i c c  bone  
-I'm here to cuck ur *****
I Go Donkey Kong on em
wit bana-na clips  
Mushrooms down the pipe,
Now watch me all-star this ****
Leave em duckin runnin huffin
when tha muh ******
hammer hit boi

Ball so hard I got u trippin'
Spitting triplets in the kitchen
-To watch the world burn  
Is my muh ****** mission
Be shifting these gears
like transmissions in a sentence;
Remix it to ignition, straight
dunkin on y’all *****-***

Light me up that's what's up,
bruh you real *** vintage
Try and step to me,
catch you sleepin with those fishes
Throw bows with the flow
man I do this **** for fun
Dabbing every day
just stir the *** to color up

I'm on another level
Mine down on the nether
architect if ever
clever big-bro pullin levers
Embezzled Denny’s rhymes
Just to peddle to the metal  
& I'm never gonna give
Until I hit that ****** threshold yuh  

Flexin on these spades
When I play that ****** trump;
If you got no brain
Then I'm ganking all your junk
kickin in yo grave
Push up daisies in the trunk
I'm literally insane
u don't know about dat funk yuh

Blizzard **** a hipster *****  
Scissor kick your gizzard slick  
Crave attention slit my wrists
Iced out and I'm ****** lit

Like ah **** got that gas
check my Auschwitz
All about the offense
When I’m toxic wit that nonsense
Coursing through my conscience
Looking for recompense;
Like hollerin at a deaf *****
Or knocking over blind kids

I'm in that hearse
smokin herb
swerving verses
Turnin words
Like its a curse, ya
I'm getting tired of metal and poetry if you can't tell expect more obscene rap I hope offends. I'm gonna record this soon and will post link when I do
BoringBoy Jul 28
Sometimes my silence speaks louder than my screams
And I don't always know what that means
Listening for someone to balance my chaos
Assuming someone else is supposed to be my peace.

When did forests glow such green
As the sun may glimmer such bright beams
And the sky may shower many delicate streams
Things are beginning to look like a dedicated dream.

Often lost and filled up on alone
Why aren't I good on my own
Where is my wonderland that I could roam
I just want a place to call my home.

There's
a                a
long
&
a                a
Short

Way to contemplate life's meaning
Constantly comparing till we all agree on the singing
But some will always tune and tone different ringing
Yet there're strings that keep us attached, grant us our eyes 4 seeing.

Question the poet by the poem's intent
Or form your own story with the imagination pent,
It won't take long to build a fortress with descent
But be wary of what messages you've bent.

Pillage a tower and mangle its stories
Set a fire for disaster or to create some kind of glory
May a field bloom so brightly and it's life vitally strong
Because a life that goes on awhile is a life full of stories just as long.

The                       The
fin             .EnddnE.              fin
The                       The
Ryan O'Leary Oct 7
Migrants, refugees, economic adventurers,
call it or them what you will, but forget not,
this is reverse colonisation, the price of empire.

Let he who has not ventured into another's country
to pillage and suppress the natives cast the first stone.

But, as we all know, every european country,
with the exception of Ireland, are culpable.

So, it is with great pleasure we observe the offspring
of another age, do penance for crimes of the past -

especially The British.

— The End —