"pillaged" poems
I am but a driftwood
All but forgotten from whence I came
A place where once had a name
A time when all was good
I am but a driftwood
Set myself adrift
Currents they lift
Bearing their latent gifts
I move as they shift
I'd protest if only I could
I am but a driftwood
Over a body so vast
Over wrecks with broken masts
Spiteful winds howl with angered gusts
An eternity that would last
Eroding my integrity like it should
I am but a driftwood
Know not of where I'm headed
Render me hopeful but will me jaded
Pillaged and plundered
Looted and raided
Swallowed and spat out, ocean's food
I am but a driftwood
Lost and forlorn out at sea
Awaiting land that would receive me
Take me in like I'm meant to be
Give me your sand, bury me completely
Keep me in the safety of your hood
I am but a driftwood
I remember the place from whence I came
A faded dream with a name
Still drifting away from all that's good
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 2:25 PM UTC
I am Viking
A Thousand Years Ago,
three Gods ran rampant,
pulsing,
through my veins.
Odin, Thor, and Loki
were the blood that hammered through my heart.
Throughout the World
I ***** and pillaged,
killed, and took
all that could be mine.
I was not afraid to die,
and more,
I was not afraid to live.
I am Viking.
A thousand years ago.
Everywhere in the known world
I roamed, and beyond,
and everywhere I conquered.
Everywhere I stayed,
and stood,
with my blue eyes shining,
and became
all that was around me.
I am Viking
A thousand years ago.
And now I am here.
I am peaceful, gentle,
and I am shining.
I learned my lessons well
in a thousand years or so.
But I must warn you.
Be careful,
Do not abuse me.
Deep within my heart and soul,
Odin, Thor, and Loki
still lie sleeping.
and I am Viking
from a thousand years ago.
I am Viking.
A thousand years ago.
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
I
Through vines indeterminate
Red cherry eyes peeped,
And spied two forms,
Fleshy pink and brown
Trees, tangled at the roots,
kissing in the canopy.
II
The garden was our
Discotheque, the sullen
Moonlight reflected
On the Black Beauties,
Twisted black mirrors,
in the garden of joy.
III
O, to again be mov'd
By your heirloom lips,
I'd give it all, the earth,
the sun, and the water.
A sacrifice: my Homesteads,
for a home.
IV
Soil runs dry.
The sun scorches.
Plagues run rampant.
We burn, we are sacked
and pillaged, and destroyed.
Roma, Roma, Roma.
V.
Maybe the rain,
Or sweet shade,
Or gentle sun,
Or simply the need
To be so defiantly
alive, will bring us again,
And I will drink you up again,
Brandywine.
May 12, 2016
May 12, 2016 at 11:18 AM UTC
the ashes of ancient
alchemical martyrs glow
in the great tunnels
of Hadron, whizzing
faster than time
at the behest of man,
the measurer of all things
including whether things
are worth measuring or not
a sordid joke on the great minds
that sorted the mystery out
long before quantum physicists
crawled out from under
the church’s labyrinth
of insulting confabulations
and pillaged the fortunes of others
to build the great rings
shall we bow to the new God?
**** your experience, I’ll prove you wrong*
He bellows from the podium built from
the finest endangered trees
and polished with the spit of
all who disagree, and yet
it’s truth in action
the 9mm’s omniscient song
sung across this suffering world:
**** with me, and you’ll discover the truth**
Mar 7, 2011
Mar 7, 2011 at 7:36 PM UTC
across the Liverpool plains
the gas exploration
goes on without
being contained
drilling is never ending
holes sunk
which invariable
cause in the farming community
a disquieting funk
Santos
cares little
for the environment's
well being
its pipeline
must garner
all the gas
in the stream
landholders and those in the green party
have banded together
to protect the agricultural lands
from the rabid abuse
which the company
will wrought on
the water table
flora
and
fauna
they cry ****
as the company
exploits
the countryside
making of it
a harlot to be pillaged
and misused
the state government
is at sixes and sevens
so many competing
interests
must be listened to
should it give
Santos
permits
to
**** and plunder
or
will
it
allow
the
broad acres
to
continue
without sunder
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
I am
the child of countless
genocides
of lands suppressed, who can’t
see the brighter
side
I am
the daughter of a neglected
family
who can’t look in their eyes, for they don’t care about
me
I am
the son of a town
lost in a futile
cycle
who doesn’t know how to get out, as every path
is an imploding
spiral
I am
the result of my mother
being
forced against her wishes, to think atrocity is what bore my
living
I am
the result of my father
who
sacrificed everything, just to see my life pull
through
I am
the offspring of a
colony
whose people are considered expendable, as if we aren’t all equally
holy
I am
the result of a bloodthirsty
state
who pillaged and burned
any place we saw fit, as if we carried their
fate
I am
a taker of
lives,
just as I am a bearer of
life
I am
a being of hate and
apathy
as much as I am a person of
love and
serenity
I am
the sword and the shield,
the dark and the light
the scorned and the healed
This is my story
so much as it is yours
The children of humanity
You & I
Dec 12, 2018
Dec 12, 2018 at 7:51 AM UTC
I admit
that I pillaged
your Facebook page
for more
of your pictures.
Forgive me.
I couldn't
help myself.
Not doing so
would have been
like walking
on a beach
covered with
sparkling gems
and not bending
to pick them up.
Forgive me.
I am too much
of a pirate
to pass up
such treasure.
~mce
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 3:44 PM UTC
it's unnerving how easily a pair of eyes strip me down
and take away every layer of defense
I have built up over the years.
hey sweetie, why don't you come over here?
because I don't want to, because you're repulsive
and your voice is scary and I felt your eyes on me
from the instant I crossed the street and I was hoping
you wouldn't speak.
want me to show you a good time?
but I was having the best time before I knew you existed,
when I was still just a person walking home
and the silent threats you make hadn't made it to
the horizon of my mind
**** what you doing walking around with hips like those?*
hips like these belong to my mother and
her mother and all of the women that have come
before me. in my body I possess history and blood
so strong it was only ever spilled during times of war.
how dare you. attempt to take that strength and power and pride
away from me. don't you know that I am magic,
that my body exists as art only
I should be allowed to admire
who gave you permission to steal from god's temple?
[I still see the dark look in your eyes
when you said that to me, the emptiness of
your pupils haunt me. they say that you see
me as nothing more than a body, a corpse.
someone to walk over.
someone to conquer.
you licked your lips and winked, the
wrinkles in your skin were clear even in the dark
and I could see that your two front teeth were
missing, so now I can't stop having nightmares
you grabbing me and tearing me apart, using
the same legs you whistled at as toothpicks]
*why are you walking so ******* fast?*
because you are terrifying. because I know
despite how brittle your bones may appear
there is a large chance if you catch me I won't
escape. because the risk of not escaping is an
automatic death to me in every sense of
the word. because I have friends, and they have
told me how their bodies were pillaged at the
hands of men like you.
*who the **** do you think you are?*
I think I am an island and I wish you
wouldn't insist on being so intrusive.
**** you too, *****
I just want to go home. I just want to go home.
why can't you let me do that?
you're not even that pretty anyway
when I met up with my best friend
she hugged me
and said I smelled like vanilla,
that I got more beautiful over the summer,
and that boys are going to lose their minds
when they see me.
my mother shows me off
boastfully, brags about my small waist like it
is a trophy, tells all my family that I am
peligrosamente hermosa,
dangerously beautiful.
and I believed them until I met you.
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 3:21 PM UTC
Dearest of them all
the light of my life,
without you there is darkness
The love of my life,
I do not find you in the pearl
or in the rest of the world
Like you said i will
I do not go to the "market"
Yes all day i sit still
And to live i have managed
It's not been long till you said
"Hold on to me love,
For in moments i am dead"
And moments later you left me
now watching us from above
And tales i tell my grandson
and he listens so keenly
Love like ours has done
immeasurable healing to him
Bask in your wisdom, the whole village
now comes to me for justice
They're rights taken and land pillaged
How much do they miss their king!
Yes for nine times i thought no
we cannot be so,
The time was seventy years ago
I was young and never imagined
You'll see in me what i hadnt
But i lost now the will to live
im old and not beautiful anymore
you at all the wonderful things at store
To tell me and to make me smile
Why? why couldnt you stay a while
But ill be there, my king
wherever you are our love will bring
Yes ill continue to live
But i'll see you soon i believe
I'll see you soon i believe
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
***** and Pillaged
At a young age
A veil descended
Closing her heart to others
Yearning for love,
She understands not
That the veil must drop
For love to fill her heart
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 9:16 AM UTC
This Black African nun in cherished photo
she calls our right to vote
Her kindness in her laughing squinting eyes,
and her kind bow smile to match
The voice of liberty written and etched upon
her kind and brilliant face; all imprinted for years
to come
All hail her bus with her sisters all in one;
a beautiful chariot on busy wheels that run
across our nation to give a helping hand
And lift our thirsty spirits on a dry and desolute land
They hold that lamp of liberty on kind hands
and gentle voice, but strong in truth be known,
to hold our basic right, to close those drapes and
snap a switch, to a voice of our own
They cross our land in valor in gentleness and kind
these nuns of liberty and justice in an unjust time
Their hearts are made from goodness; their strength
so often done, in a land so heavily pillaged, they will
never never succumb. They see a new sun rising over
the distant hill
They know their work of justice never to be still...
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
Decimating Destitution
Ravaged wreckage,
Ruins and rubble,
Depressing debris,
Ashes about,
Sky soaring shroud,
Misery maxed,
Fallen freedom,
Corroded cache,
Pillaged poverty,
Explosive extremities,
Covert corruption,
Dystopic dynasty,
Unknown utopia,
Infinity is inept,
Forsaken faith,
Rejected religion,
Cataclysmic calamity,
Decimating destitution.
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 1:57 PM UTC
Do you know what it’s like,
to be the hunted?
The pursued;
the object, the target,
the one stalked like wounded prey
as the lights turn off.
You never called off your
hunting parade.
You took advantage of your skill.
You moved on me;
a soundless shadow creeping
along the walls,
clutching fear and regret in your hands
as weapons to
take
me
down.
Brutal, savage beast you are;
only I can see those jagged teeth,
razor spikes contouring your spine,
as you grab me from behind.
The darkness colours you,
brings out more than daylight ever could.
It suits you, you and the coal and soot
you shed
in my bed.
Warm, sticky blood you open like a tap.
You rip and tear and
reap your rewards
after such a masterful ****
You left me wounded, dripping blood
like a grimy trail behind me.
Leaving me more vulnerable to
fresh attack
than ever before.
But there was something worse still;
more terrifying than any shot from your gun.
You left more than a scar, more than
a raw wound.
You left something behind that can’t be healed.
It becomes part of my being,
inserting itself into my body,
protruding it’s toxic spikes into
any future I have;
any future that might involve a lover,
any chance at companionship.
You battered me to a ****** pulp;
a ragged mess no one could ever
risk touching,
without the blood covering themselves too.
It would seep into the sheets between us lovers;
it would attack me quietly, viciously;
It would bring out the worst in me,
and every time I would be forced to save him.
Save him from myself.
Look at what you did to me,
foul, disgusting ghost you now are.
You’re the nightmare I hide.
You’re the burn on my skin I keep in the dark.
You’re the voice I try and drown in rapid
loves, fleeting desires.
You’re my brand. You’re the one who
decides my fate from now on.
You pillaged without consent.
You never even knew what you delivered
or what
you
stole.
The hunted.
That is what I am now.
The weak creature, struggling to
heal.
And I can never tell lovers what this
sad, lonely,
aching story means.
What I can offer gets buried in fear.
I can never voice the pain that
rips in waves,
icy and sickly
in my bloodstream.
I can’t voice the remorse,
or the loneliness I shall always greet,
before they flee,
the sound of receding footsteps they beat.
Aug 2, 2016
Aug 2, 2016 at 11:15 PM UTC
His smile never met his eyes
expressions shatter
tensions flow
lips flash a twitch, truth hides
Remember still the evil grin
Telling one lie
Leaving behind another
respect is flattering
charming
He tells you one thing,
Then decides another way
Left is right when he wishes
Where do these conversations lead?
Respect is fenced by thorns
Underneath the petaled flower
She'll draw blood if provoked
Graze the blackened storm
Its here, this hurricane
Blow by blow, these scars are torn
Pillaged memory, lost feelings
Beyond a road I don't wish to walk
The hammer stings the lonely stone
Calling our names
Mar 4, 2021
Mar 4, 2021 at 12:34 AM UTC
Innocent saucer eyes open wide,
Sweet budding lavender laughter.
We’ll all go down-
One by one.
Silence aggravates the wreckage
Of what I used to be.
Into an abyss of false love
I’m falling.
A love that is mistaken,
Shown in the form of tender kisses
In detested secret places-
On a moldy couch
Covered in cat hair.
The crippling angst of your fingertips
Against my cold youthful cheeks-
Tracing the outline of my fatty jaw.
Slow circles of smoke escape your chapped crusting lips,
As chunks of flesh turn to rotting hostility
Against ones own body-
The bitterness of the cold turns to sweet comfort
As a lovely numbness becomes my regularity,
And emotions and physicality become one
Persisting to disintegrate-
my soul has become
a boiling bubble of spoiled milk
With the putrid stench of pillaged skin-
The devastating devouring desecration
of a ravaged--
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 4:19 PM UTC
I feel
Used up
Cleaned out
Thrown away
Cast aside
Discarded
Exploited
Exploited
Exploited
Like twenty-two years
Of making myself a beautiful person
Was only for others to grab at
And pilfer
At will.
I never knew my pleasure
Was at the whim of animals
Of worms and wolves and vultures.
I never knew I had to ask
Permission
To live my life unsoiled.
May I?
May I be loved?
May I be appreciated and accepted?
May I trust?
May I have sole ownership of my body?
Someone pillaged my temple.
It is now closed
For demolition
And subsequent reconstruction.
It will be rebuilt
With steel bars and security guards.
No longer do I love freely and unabashedly.
No longer do I trust others
Or myself.
I have sewn my own head
Back into place
To stick my neck out again.
I now wear the stitches
As a trophy
As a medal
As a warning
As a threat
That I will never let you befriend me
I will never let you touch me
I will never let you in
I will never let you close
I will never let you hurt me
I will never let you **** me
Again.
Aug 1, 2013
Aug 1, 2013 at 7:58 PM UTC
Speak softly for they are listening
If heard, they will know the secretes
They will pillage and tear our streets
Strike fear in the hearts of children
Swim in the smoke that hovers above
Look down and feast
Hurry mother, come quick
Open my eyes from this nightmare
Let me see the sunflowers again
Travel the mind in search for truth
Know fully this is of our own doing
We have spread the words they heard
They are aware of the secretes
We pillaged and torn our streets
Stroke fear in the hearts of children
Passed through the clouds above
And looked down upon our followers
Oh mother, stay away
Let me reside in the horror
The plants cease to grow, life eternal
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 5:21 AM UTC
in the manufactured waves of chlorine
my feet stand on concrete shores
and tiles grappled with maritime life
of dead leaves that have crept its way
in an ecosystem of unnatural residents
with sunken treasures buried beneath
the heavy blankets of swimmers' feet
a child's lost pair of goggles gleams
in the crevices of the ceramic seabed
sunbeams bounce off the plastic
an underwater mirage for the pool's
regular inhabitants armed in spandex
these are the common sights
of The Public Pool
and it's in the rare quiet moments
of carefully constructed serenity
when you are the sole ruler of
your concrete public pool kingdom
when your camp has been pillaged
by a thousand 5 year olds garbed
in their best hot pink speedo suits
and equipped with the best water guns
maintaining their positions like
a modern Praetorian legion swathed
in modern day mass-produced tunics
huddled in formation with limbs afloat
assembled and hungry to conduct
a carefully constructed battle of dominance
when the water surrounding you
suddenly feels too warm
it's too warm for it to be the chlorine
and you look up to see their leader –
their leader in the speedo silicone swim cap
is flushed as red as her speedo suit: a sight
against the synthetic cerulean landscape
that you realize:
you own nothing in this world
even the public pool gets invaded
even the public pool gets ****** in
so you might as well enjoy shallow ends
and every little joy life has to offer
the universe will **** itself eventually
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
That amber liquid far from insipid
Like molten honey but drawn from a tap,
Bitter or dark, the choices quite stark,
God's malted ale, nature's true sap.
Vikings grew strong, strengthened their bond,
Giving them courage for mayhem galore,
A beer in their hand, they pillaged the land
Never quite feeling tired or sore.
The Celts used for curing, Egyptians for luring
Their gods from the heavens bribed to partake,
The English just drank as their water so stank,
Beer their solution to gulp for life's sake.
Wine lovers admit that their glass needs
be sipped
While describing aromas of berries and earth,
No such constraint, nor need for restraint
For drinkers of ale are freewheeling from birth.
So let raise a jug or a frothy filled mug
While watching a game and eating junk food,
Nothing is wetter, more luscious and better
Than a cold tasty beer when expertly brewed.
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 11:20 AM UTC
Crazy things we didn’t know were there
Without an X to mark its spot,
We shoveled and we dug over our bodies
We pillaged acres of skin, ravished even,
Our flesh fueled by the promise of glowing treasure
Wielding shovels and picks only our better natured angels
Understood, or could call “sweet intentions”
No map we possessed ended in gold
So we drew up our own tracing mountains and streams,
Upturning every rock, wading in every pool,
Our made-up languages became passcodes for secret doors
Our hair and nails became booby-traps
Like poisonous ivy and razor sharp spikes.
Perilous our hunt for heirloom, we would find.
But how could we not look?
Our compass points Northeast from down here
So as I climb towards your chest and you to mine
Our knocking proved there were unhallowed
Cavities under ribbed-caged bodies
And still we dig
Closer and closer to the treasure in our chests.
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
Resenting the light,
from the Olympian,
that warms my wool.
It cowards behind holly,
that grows in the pine grove.
Retreats to shaded cold,
below timber arms.
It is disgusted to the sight,
of white, yellow and orange.
Prefers the blue of night.
As it fades, flows and steeps.
It becomes clear,
pillaged of its white veneer.
Though, it carries forward,
like a grudge that won’t melt away.
Or is it more like love,
ever changing.
Or even as stubborn,
as a cold bedded love.
That brings life to you,
at least once a year.
But, in the end
it recedes.
Into the wood,
from under the holly.
Then waits,
until you’ve almost forgotten.
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 10:32 AM UTC
The Difference in those who are charged and graced the authority of the people and the city and states to defend the weak, protect the innocent , serve and protect and even enforce the Just laws that are n the books, with descretion are this, Any officer that harms and abuses the power vested into them is truly a PIG yet, let this not be confused with the True Blue, The officers that truly protect and follow the very same laws that they enforce, these my Friends are L.E.O.'s and yes very much Lions of the Good and True heart.
So let us not find fault in the Good hearted men and women that are fighting the PIG's whom have not only abused and harmed the very innocent and perceived guilty and have caused grave crimes that are in measure of hell its self but they have caused the same harm on the very men and women that serve faithfully whom are LEOs and dare not think that these good LEOs and their families have not had the same crimes done unto them or their families, for surly they have some where at some time and probably worse. So remember I support the True Blue LEO's and their Families, and back them as they take down the PIG's that have ***** and pillaged the very people that bestowed the authority they abuse.
PIGs in Zen Lyrics Below.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EyxcFzVmtgg
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 5:41 PM UTC
Fire in the sky
Volcano spores finding seed
Within my spark scarred chest
They grow
Racing lava through enraged veins
Once alabaster skin chameleons to crimson
Overwhelmed
It must find an outlet
This intensity could burn down a village
Melt glacial strongholds
Even evaporate the deepest depths
I choose instead a different route
Pen in hand, ink my battle axe
Blank page, innocent lines
***** Pillaged. Plundered.
Many verses later I am spent
It's purity never stood a chance
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 9:28 PM UTC
pop me in your mouth, and tie me
like a cherry stem.
i am your ****** the thoughts in your mind
that are on your tongue, but you have to bite downhard,
because. (because)
smear my eyeliner so i am soiled, outside.
rip my clothes (these ones, not those), so i am pillaged, forever.
toss me, grip me, you can unleash those naughty fantasies,
i am the therapist that will lick your
wounds (with salt & lime, and coconut pie)
find my breaking point, if you can.
lay me to waste when you’re through,
and i’ll be your ***** cat, purring machine.
until your ready to
pounce
again.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 8:57 PM UTC
hard-wood rocking-horse
between thighs of porcelain white.
sweat drips, rhythmic oscillation
of bones that ferrociously grind.
salty, soft, sweet-wine lips;
heavy, humid, breath of steam.
closed-eyes search for surrender,
and signs of admitted defeat.
hymns of pleasure-ridden-falsettos echo;
eruptive moans reverberate in diaphragms;
trapped in throats, restricted groans
fight their way out of closed mouths.
tearing through flesh
arrows find their targets:
bombarded zones left unguarded
are continually pillaged without regret.
hard-wood rocking-horse
still ****** between thighs
of ruined statues of goddesses
made of porcelain, so white.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 4:26 PM UTC