Lo, I see a heart
Somewhere nowhere
Upon incessant chunks of pebbles
  Putrescent with footsteps
    
    Turned from white to grey.
      
       Might've been an emblem
        Of one's love
         For a dear friend,
           Foe,
           Or a rival of bygone times.
          
           Beneath the stones
           Unloved and unguarded lies.

step this side..
no, you.. that side!
in a line, in a line.. quiet now – get ready for fire.. no miss!
please line up the children in neat rows, get them ready…………………..


1.
eyes are misted over – something happened in the gap
hooking-up strangely with estranged sons lost in custodial-wrangles
alienated values;
family-core defunct like a super-shiny apple with putrescent-flesh
long-beard wants a son after so many daughters, sits unwashed in the smoke
gender-penalty –  sorry, sister.. you chose the wrong straw
you remain in that cage till we say come out


2.
bread-basket filled with stealth-grenades
rights and benefits squirm in slick-oil of rules
peasant skirting the limits of the city; even rats fare better
cloak of goat-skin, the shield hides serpents beneath
the hunter will aim for the head, land in the centre..
                           yet an inch or two too high
sentry, close the gates and bar the window-frames!


3.
inadvertent greed and control; aggressive power
news-man dies for feed that’s untrue, anyway
picture-man twists an image to suit the viewer
all kinds of lines disappear so quick – ******, jokes, theatre, life, even poems
and if you’ve never had the sad combo of sick and homeless,
                                                                ­           famished and cold,
                                                                ­           tired with sores
oh, war will be courteous enough to bring you all these, *on a platter
and more..



there is no border when we all roam in hunger and in fear
like the orphans in crowded-camps
high-rankers sit far away.. ominously "well-off"
                                               chew on hard-cheese
                                               gulp down red wine
but the throat still feels parched, and that bayonet is too short
its fear will kick in.. on a day least anticipated
would you be shocked if it is a child who will drive that wedge-stick home?






st – 14 march 2014

he was radicalized in
the marshes of Vietnam
when they told him to fire
his loaded gun at a
group of school children

a dissident who
marched on Washington
with a Reverend and a King
and read Žižek Zinn and
Chomsky's reflections on direct
action and anarchistic philosophy

a staunch opponent of
police brutality in his
fifties he protested the
****** of Rodney King

he did not go quietly
into the black abyss but
raged against a putrescent
apparatus obsessed with control

he died waiting for the Revolution

Peremptory forbearance, propounded.
Heaven promiscuously recoiling
in Secret, assoiling attainted diffidence;
Perfidiously?
Effusive wanton idolatry forcibly
motivating outwardly,
The cruelest ugliest creation that survives.
The most beautiful creature alive
inwardly putrescent- cascading
relinquishing Evil; turning
away casting, aside Hell.

Eleete j Muir

they say the road to hell
is paved with golden intentions
and they are not mistaken i
see it's latent
hidden within psychosocial declarations
of everlasting love from a narcissistic god
i don’t give much credence to
the insistent proclamations of eternal
damnation in a metaphysical realm
of torment and brimstone but

don’t get me wrong
i’ve seen hell in the
wolfish grins of pilfering preachers
in the glassy eyes of opiated masses
i was careful when i stared
into that dark abyss
knowing it glared right back at me
emphatically declaring that i
was the lost sheep
a fallen brother separated
from the good shepherd’s flock
a prodigal son isolated in
alienating atheism but

i’ve come to love my
outcast status i’d rather
rot in the dirt after
raising hell on Earth
than suffer rebirth in ethereal bliss
espousing endless reiterations
of worship for a
fictitious megalomaniac

god is dead we killed him
deicide stains these hands
in shades of scarlet and crimson
the triumph of humanity will not
fade once again to the putrid
obeisance and ridiculous reverence
or religious references to divinity

salvation lies within

two decades of dedication
to the Christian ideal
left me dejected rejecting the
shallow lies and overt
misconceptions of religion
chose to begin again in the
reclamation of self-determination
i found a dignity independent from
a deity perpetuating guilt and regret
and though i will never forget the
progressive lessons of a radical rabbi
offering a message of hope and forgiveness
i’ve found that those same tenants
are seriously lacking in the
contemporary Christian church

if your god is
omnipotent and not
merely impotent
than tell me why he
needs you to
defend him

come on coward
if you’re real
show yourself
here’s the chance to
prove me wrong
sling lightning from the skies
and take my life i’m
not afraid i’m ready to die
and part from the suffering
that inundates this existence

strike me down and remove
all doubt of your majestic malevolence
a malfeascent adolescent prone
to fits of jealous rage and
temporal temper tantrums

that’s what i thought

i only hear the sounds of
a theological clown show
self-styled scholars enumerating  
passages of mercy and compassion
in the same holy text that condones
**** and slavery and child abuse
which would be ironic if it
hadn't been slapped together over
centuries of violence and bloodshed
and used to justify two millennia's worth of
repressive oppression a
putrescent obsession with control

it's true what Sartre said
hell is other people
and we have No Exit
from the depravity that
obfuscates critical inquiry
in the immortal words of
Shakespeare the nether-realms
are emptied all the devils are here

your god maybe a figment of
fantastic imagination but so
much horror has been wrought
with his name as the justification

so forgive me if i seem hyperbolic
but it is no exaggeration  
when i declare that religion itself
is a hell from which we're still
trying desperately to wake up

Fringed by putrescent dusk
Fingernails dig beneath graveyard wounds
Fostered by lexical warfare
Within the harrowing fiascos of tomorrow
Nothing but bated memories
Braided by skin, coffee, and cigarettes
Branded by concrete whispers

all the bald giants have
donned their toupees
but they remain silent

the sun overhead licks
at my back and the salty
sweat of my brow
stains the bill of my hat

insects swarm overheard
while the smell of putrescent fish
and fermenting leaves
invades my nose

the scaled monsters
beneath the black water
grin at my every move

and i feel at home

Profligate pundits and
Philandering plutocrats
Promulgating pusillanimous
Pandering polecats
Put partially putrescent
Punks and pettifoggers
Past pitifully puny pollsters
Pushing the party politics
Of petrified pashas.

Disgusting demagogues
Dealing delayed death
Deeming democracy dying
Deny diplomacy daily
Deftly develop departments
Defending discrimination
Dividing deities from devils
Draining dedicated duties
With disgusting dictatorship.

Sorrowfully sublimated
Citizens of society slide
Swiftly and sequentially into
Sibilant session of silliness
In which similes scintillate
Signifying sensitivities
Of separate sensibilities
Subtly smiting the senseless.
Sauce for the stunningly stupid,
Champagne for the saboteurs.

Homelely lonely snaggle-tooth smile
Tongues urging words forward
Surging as an ardent sword
Swimming in saliva
Ivory incisor
Cruel cuspid
Fangs
And sharpened islands
Teeth

Decalcified
Recalcitrant

There's an empty feeling in a mouth

Provender as a need

Viscious victuals

Forget the taste
Remember appetite
Just when you feed
Don't eat but devour
Mulling molars
Curious carnassials
Fangs
Longing for the flavor of flesh
Teeth

Putrescent
Holy cavity

There is an empty feeling in a mouth

Eat all you can

While you can

Take full bites
And swallow whole

When the ink kisses the last traces of my words,
So exquisitely penned,
My putrescent heart hammers one final beat
Because the perishable is ethereal

We never do water artificial flowers.

So I smile
And breathe in eternal obscurity.

Like watercolours
I fade away

Come October they would rise again ,
steal through hidden doorways .
Putrescent then they take their form ,
in liminal space they have their birth .
☆
Every year they come for their meat ,
driven by some unknown clock.
In twenty-eight days they become manifest ,
their grey bony fingers unlock .
☆
A gallery of faded portraits ,
mark Octobers that have gone before ,
gaze longingly out of picture frames ,
behold the living on which they feed .
☆
It gets darker now once more I tell you ,
it shan't be very long ,
till October casts it's deadened pall ,
and then their sickly will be done .

bumper-stickers of crosses
commemorating a Jewish hippie anarchist
are flanked by mantras of violence the hallmarks
of ambivalent compliance celebrating
barbarism the State’s chief contrivance

my fill-in-the-blank is an American serviceman
note here that it doesn’t matter if the individual in
question identifies as male female or non-conforming
they are a service man as if the
erasure of gendered complexities somehow
appeases the intricacies of humanity
beneath a blanket statement of hyper-masculinity but
i digress

my fill-in-the-blank is an American serviceman
reinforcing the spiritualization of militarization
in syncophantic intontations of
god bless our soldiers
and only ours
forget about all the other men and women
and children cursed by the pox of
foreign aggression and endless war
they are not our concern
on the contrary
they are just an obstacle in our path
a minor speed-bump we must summit by summoning
chauvinism and stepping on the throats of our enemies

dominance is our souls’ sole objective
we don’t have time for notions that might
challenge our hallowed perspectives or our
holy war in the most sacred spot in all
the world we cannot be deterred by the images of
broken bloodied babies on Mediterranean shores
‘cause the decimated dead with decapitated heads
only fan the flames of conquest
cultivated by the corrupt

i suppose i shouldn’t be so surprised
after all you did adopt an
instrument of torture to remember your
savior by when a dove of peace and
fraternity would’ve sufficed

your distinctly American Jesus stands shirtless
with a chiseled six-pack in camouflage cargo shorts
wielding a double-barreled sawed-off
shotgun in each hand he’s
white and rich and arrogant
as he trades blows with ISIS and
sits in consternate judgement over godless atheists
barking out damnation from the right-hand of
the lord our god the king of kings
salvation reserved for the predestined elect
necessarily limited to Americans his
chosen elite in their promised land

if only he could see you now
that same martyr you bless with one breath
before spewing vitriolic hatred with the next
what would the prince of peace
riding on a donkey
have to say to
bigots racists and homophobes

would he find the
stones you spew and shove
them back down your throat
the way i’d like to

no i somehow imagine that if your Christ returned
he’d interpose himself between you and the LGBTQ
and suffer the brunt of your bitterness
turning black and blue beneath the blows
willing to die for the least of these crying
abba father
why have you forsaken me

if the Nazarene came back he’d
overturn ballot-boxes in houses of worship
masquerading as venues for the 2016 election
he’d realize Sanders is no socialist
that Clinton is grotesquely hawkish and
i like to think he’d tell that fascist Trump
to *******

he would stand instead with the poor
and oppressed with men and women
of color at Black Lives Matter protests
smoke some quality kush with the dejected rejects
and comfort the back-alley addicts with
a soft word or warm hug to serve
as a reminder that the Kingdom of
Heaven is not above but is
built brick-by-brick in the day-to-day
interactions of compassion between ordinary
humans with an extraordinary capacity to
counteract the lethargy of apathy that
pacifies the populace and turns us into
cowed wage-slaves bowing in acquiescence

the rabbi would march to the gates
of the white house
and occupy the front lawn
to triumphant shouts that
rendered unto American Caesars
precisely what they deserve

a non-violent mass resistance of
leaderless and highly coordinated
civilly disobedient dissidents who
value dissent and populist movements to
voice their disillusionment at abject
apparatuses consolidating dominance
in order to remind the 99% that
in the words of one romantic

we will rise like lions after slumber
in unvanquishable number
we’ll shake our chains to earth like dew
for we are many and they are few

yet as much as i am loathe to admit it
Jesus of Nazareth was executed two
thousand some odd years ago
your god is dead and he cannot save us

if we intend to contend with the forces of
depravity that inculcate humanity with
putrescent fantasies of self-aggrandized zealotry
we cannot sit on our hands or
bury our heads in the sand and
wait for someone else to lead us to redemption

salvation keeps us looking down and shuffling
along suffering chained to our lack of imagination
rather than looking straight ahead
into the eyes of our taskmasters
and irrevocably declaring
we will lead ourselves

we have it in us to build a better world in
the shell of the old and raise a
culture of equality and liberty
provided we don’t buy into
all we’re told but
if such a dream could ever
triumph we must find the courage to
brave the cold winters of repression
that surely lay ahead and pour gasoline
on this ugly specter haunting our planet
before lighting the torch and tossing it
onto the detritus of misanthropy

watch it burn

come
huddle close now
gather ‘round
keep warm
if we stick together
we can brave the storm gathering
even now to purge our
peaceful non-compliance

as we carry the conflagration
to every nation to
each corner of the globe
we will overthrow the
ghost of governance

denizen of the Internet's darkest corner
surfacing momentarily to spew vitriolic
misogyny before disappearing once more
returning to whatever hell you call home

warmer hearts than mine
might muster the compassion
to show you a kindness
**** like you neither
appreciate nor deserve

but not me
i will not tear you
limb-from-limb
regardless of the
sick fantasies i
treasure in my brain

no
i'll meet you in
this abyss and cut
you to pieces with
a tongue sharper
than any sword
until you fall upon
my words like the
shameful craven and
dishonorable coward
that you are

you fancy yourself
a misanthropist but
you didn't create
the darkness you
merely inherited
it from me

you're a putrescent infant
nursing your enmity and harboring
hatred for yourself above
all else and it's not
difficult to see why

chauvinist pig
slave to a hyper-masculine ego
the rhetoric you spit is
simultaneously solipsistic
self-contradictory and self-defeating
you've backed yourself into a corner
your throat is the open grave in which
i will bury you alive

i only wish there was a devil who might
give you an eternity of the attention
you crave but i'll suffice to be the one to
pull the noose tight and watch with
mirth as you kick and spin and gasp
and shudder and splutter for breath
your flesh goes blue and your eyes
roll back into your skull searching for a
brain turned to mush
riddled with maggots

and on the day that you
lie dormant and friendless
paralyzed on your deathbed
i will be the loneliness
reminding you that you got
just what you deserve

don't **** with my best friend

In a distant land,
Where the skies hung bedecked in ebony,
With dust clouds strung across the firmament,
Fierce and truly black,
Festooned with the souls of the ancient dead,
From dark worlds they have been evoked,
And so they come,
Their battle banners flying,
Blowing in the once deserted wind.
Deceased came back vengeful,
Their trumpets blaring loud,
From the fields fire from once the demons danced,
Where the devil threw his summons through sulphureous stench of torrid bubbles,
Came to arrest the sullied living to stockpile their immortal souls,
Escort them to forever,
To the land they'll never sleep,
These dripping faces of the these putrescent souls, not yet disintegrated,
Had become mummified, as if sorcery compelled a hand in death's immortal,
defiant alliance.
It was as they knew they would have to hearken to deaths's fatal curtain call!
By ladylivvi1

© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)

A box of shadows lies dormant in a cluttered altar
Seething in circuitous rage it ravages for a state of tranquility
Clinging to clichés it finds a familiar maze of cognition to pace
Crunch
Time
Crunch
Less of it...
A prosaic necrosis leeching at the lungs of the pure until the labyrinth halts and coughs for another chance to die
But there
A smile permeates
the glass of the half empty and
the being forges on in the wish
of a kiss beyond birth
But no one could want such a putrescent jinn
A miscegenation of indolence and desperation half-cocked to quake at the cackle of a shred of hope...
Her illiterate alliterations go as far as a pebble into the deep where once
She found her depths

Hello stress
Goodbye rest
Hello late nights
Hello appetite
Goodbye judgement
Hello lament

Workouts are fleeting
Enter bad eating
My addictions just shift now
From TV to...what now?

It's drugs in the morning
It's food at lunch
A smoke ring I'm forming
Now back to the crunch

Next'll be uppers then downers then more bull
And soon I'll need hard **** to feel half normal

At the end of this hectic whole putrescent week
It's a buzz and some rest and some love that I seek

saccharine lullabies
sit in sweet putrescent seats
around my rotting bed

I lie weightless
in the heavy truth
of the piece off a broken tooth
twirling through the cosmos
after a missile fist made
my spit mist

stardust

The night whisper it's languid melody streaky by the screams muffled by the distance.

I’m panting while I walk through the putrescent streets adorned with decaying corpses
Feast of parasites and carrion birds

The tinkling of the stained glass announces the arrival of Death. It’s scythe touches the delicate glass of the churches, forming a funeral melody that freezes my bones and consumes my mind.

How many times I begged on my knees like a weakling for Death to take me along, how many times I killed to alleviate my sick thirst; waiting, wishing that the punishment of the God they speak of would fall on my cursed existence and remove from me the eternal non-life.

The hot taste of blood still pulse in my mouth
Repulse