"rapaciousness" poems
Trance me up, push me 'round and bring it down
Beat me a new song, pound it out, my soul to be bound
I am so wicked, so lost in your rhythms I can hardly breath
Chain me, cultivate me, give me your **** release
I am so hot for you, for your song of thumping sound
I can hardly contain my ears, my body is on fire
Push it, pound it, of your hotness I won’t tire
Your muse, your hotness I cannot pass
I wanna spank your sound
Push me to my new limits, pleasure me with your ingenuity.
Intellect my brain, pulverize my pain as I watch the world rot away
You ooze mastery, the rot of your rapaciousness, so succulent, so free.
Consume my head, feed my ears, ****** into my chest
Feed me your lust, your craziness, I am such a freakin' mess
Dance it off, sing it away, swing it 'round, I float on the ground
Your magic fingers, the smoothness of your beat, masters me
I need you, your fantasy is mine, I am yours
For now you control me
You course through my being, my chest thumps to your flashing sound.
Command me, consume me, do not let me go. Spin it, make me found
Your ethereal edge smoothes me out, makes me right.
I bed your music, my feet clap your fame, this night
But tomorrow when I wake, I will forget who you are.
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 6:27 AM UTC
and the skies with sudden encore come
filled with words not worked
orchastrating a full complement
of treacherous ambition
and will an exploration
of competeing claim of unsundry wills
and such as is gives men a will to transform themselves
to give a cause to anciet or recent voice
a permissible presentation of possibilities
in battle and brawl with a blunt rhetorical and physical disorder
which does emphasize such dramas
with stark, violent and repressive potential
all tantilized with the prospect of wealth in the ground
make a contention with vicious energies
of hate and ambition that propels
an intence and exhausting experience
upon a once civil-world to spiral
vertiginously toward an ancient choas
enacting old stories with the oppresiveweight of the past
now monstrous individualism
whose hideously fragile bonds to peace
no longer exeert their hold
and thus divorse themselves
with an individual rapaciousness
annihilating lives with a curiousley
derivative quality for a store of gas and oil
and disinherite themselves from moral constriant
evoking the soliloquy of historical hypocrisy
with a mutilation of truth
in a tragedy of lament for all human kind
then sudden uncalled for encore fills the skies
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
i have given hearing
to deaf ferocious monsters
with well meaning incompetence
i have disturbed the reality
and illusion of human identity
where i am enmeshed
in insoluble confusions of difficulties
where i find strange images
touching on the grotesque
and ask what is myself
what are the guarantees
of my identity
by what right is a name possessed
by what means is my individuality secured
these questions in my mind
have a curiously derivative quality
that pretend to govern themselves
where they collaborate in their own oppression
and make assumptions upon
ethical behaviour and social institutions
which represent fictions rather than fact
function in a world of collapsing distinctions
of artificial precepts
where these now hearing monsters
with vicious energies of hate and ambition
that propel the enactment of intense
exhausting experience of a mind
spiraling vertiginously
toward an inner chaos that proclaims
I am myself alone without moral constraints
yet register vast predicaments
with the memorability of vivid language
but with an individual rapaciousness
that creates an amalgam of narratives
with the oppressive weight of the past
designed to induce this evaluative vertigo
with such ferocity to produce a turmoil of demons
monsters of evil, whose viciousness is vividly stamped
upon their bodies that declares
their fathomless malice sending my mind
into a cruelly disassembling nature
where i have given hearing
to deaf ferocious monsters
Jul 13, 2014
Jul 13, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
The bird wished to fly,
Up in the air so high;
Not that she didn’t try!
The merciful world ostantiously allowed her;
Spread her wings, ready to fly!
Little did she knew about the interminable rapaciousness of the beings.
She was pulled, rejected and dumped.
The bird still wished to fly!
Too afraid to get hurt again..
To afraid of the exposure..
Too afraid of the people.. the world which is made of.
Morning to night; night to morning,
She thought and thought,
‘What is my aim?’ ,she asked herself.
Confused about self,
Sad about people,
No trust left.
She decided and thought of the reason why she started;
Oh, she wanted to fly!
She stretched her worries into wings..
Yes, she flew!
The world dumped her.
Well, she did the same.
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 4:08 AM UTC
"Our task is to show that however wonderful,
things may appear In today’s World and lifestyle,
may not be all that great Even the darkest night will end,
The sun will rise regardless as our optimism changes to pessimism,
Roses may grow in a stone yet not in the earth,
As optimism has shown love exist or it can turn rapaciousness,
To those that are lacking idealism,
Rapaciousness will continue to exist as do oceans,
As we forded across the river’s edge feel the love,
The upsurge bares,
Stones or boulders may bare flowers,
As rainfalls so will it kiss the flower wherever they growth,
We will endure also the growth of optimism,
Solitude will bring a cumbersome heart;
Depression will remain in a semblance of a new destiny,
This may precede a pessimistic venture,
Loves fate arrives pessimism succumbs to an optimistic,
Tormenting discomforts mind boggling opinions
May abound all aspects until ones last breath,
Ominous emotions turbulent gestures of Idealism Antivenin”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 08/06/2019
Aug 7, 2019
Aug 7, 2019 at 5:26 PM UTC
“I dearth to know what it is like,
I dearth to savor the perception,
Savor the sweet tense exudation,
On the back of your alluring dregs,
Never too blind to see things as they are,
I need to be your invariable acquiescence,
This vapid infection of propensity,
As it bellows through sight of my soul,
Makes my perpetual wanting rapaciousness,
For that of a complete perfect deitate,
Made so perfectly complete I crave to feel,
I dearth lose myself into this one someone,
Airborne aroma of your desires is arousing
Do not let this desire fade away,
This inducement lethargy to me by your
Unending deity of satisfaction,
This ardor magnetism that immerses in me,
This the infectious propensity of fervor”
By Andrew Guzaldo 08/05/2018 ©
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 3:25 PM UTC