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ryn Sep 2014
Life throws at us the worst practical pranks
Some call them challenges... I call them sick ironies
With challenges you might emerge victorious, and slide up the ranks
Ironies are just mean, bad jokes; locks with no keys

Call me godless, sad and trodden, bitter man
Call me a cynic, call me all including jaded
I've arranged it all in various permutations, much as I can
But my view at this point cannot be compensated

Allow me to illustrate...

•It's funny how you feel very certain or strongly
About the bog of sadness and depression you wade in deepest
You know it's real, you fan it with strength your mind could carry
When it could be better used to rise from when you're weakest

•What's this about having to crash to your fiery death
Into the realm of darkness; into the belly of ****
You'd have to almost die and lose your last breath
Before granted an epiphany, a slim chance that you could turn out well

•When life throws you in the deepest end
Fills your lungs with copius amounts of bad water
Tries to **** you before allowing time to mend
When if we were first taught to swim, it would've been much easier

•Sure... A treasure trove of splendours, life does offer
But like a spin of the lottery, you mightn't get even if you deserve
No matter how far you reach into it's elusive coffers
No matter how hard you worked to get ahead of the curve

•Life is like Christmas at times when it feels like giving
Like the gift of love much coveted by most individuals
Gives us all these fanciful things that need extensive assembling
But mischievously hoarding all the instruction manuals

•Fraught with grey areas and blind spots to fight
Presents ample opportunities to find the place that you'd belong
You go through shitloads of wrongs to get a right
And finally you think you're right, in actuality, you're dead wrong!

"More", you say?

•Friends during good times but not the bad
•The perfect red apple hosting a worm inside
•Faking a happy smile when you're deep down sad
•Putting our blind faiths in politicians we know who've lied

•Achieving superstardom only after death had ensnared
•Using heavy machinery to rid the Earth of impurity
•Shooting your mean motor mouth and wonder why no one cared
•Starlets dying for attention but crumble under scrutiny

•Health warnings on cigarettes but still sold for revenue
•Acquiring your sought after sports car but drive within the limit
•Promotions to idiots in suits who haven't got a clue
•Stretching up for the stars even when you know you'll never reach it

Well...

I could give more examples but I've typed enough
Life is but a game we're all playing; a circus we're all living
We can't help being helpless when unable to read and call its bluff
All we can afford is to keep siphoning water out of our boat that's sinking
I know I have been whiny in my recent writes. I also know that living a hard life makes you stronger... When life gives you lemons, make lemonade... Blah blah, yada yada... YAWN... SNORE... Zzzzzz. I know these already and I'm sure they're true to a certain degree. Just want to rant and complain. Please forgive my whining.
Jeremy Bean Feb 6
Sorry I can't relate to you
or if my act seems see through
as the voices scream I'm destined to lose
on a path that Im told I can choose
yet the only one praised seems lead to a land of fools

how does a man covey
the truths that we evade
its like we're playing a game
we know no winners escape

I'm at a loss for words
and the more that I blurt
the more it seems absurd
contemplating what is worse
to quit this race and go unheard
or push on only to be burned
wading in a world of hurt
reducing it all to a blur

Nation, or relation,
religion or procreation
assimilates me deeper
into disassociation

maybe they taught me how to fear all the hatred
but rarely how some love and cheer can change the situation

now I'm just exhausted
waiting for the rules to change
being accosted
by those who always point the blame

reptilian brains
thats been raised
bound by chains
to anothers mission
driven insane
by the thoughts ingrained
with repetition
same old same
to envision
imposed superstitions
to be swallowed whole
polluted souls
who no longer have control
with no indication
no escape
no letting go

sickened and disgusted by your ******* cause
to raise a sense of greed
for everything
above of all

the more feelings taken from me
the more I feel like a machine
that I never wanted to be
am I too far from rescuing?

in a group of robots
who know not what they do
who will use any excuse
to continue what their used to

am I the only one who seems to see this cell?
because when I point it out I am told to go to ****
These summer times are what I crave;
Under an open ceiling, a place we can rave.
Those clear skies gave way to stars,
Around a campfire we take back what's ours.
We're out of the way, you'll never find us,
Reclaiming our hearts and souls
in the abandonment that surrounds us.
Just another generation to discover the profoundness.

Wake 'n bake's good to awake
but we don't sleep for dawn's sake.
Soft words linger in the swaying leaves,
Reminiscent of Medina's calm breeze.

This otherworldly stage set a silent scene
as fresh air whispers incantations to my being:
Azure haze of summer vibrancy.

**Some daze inspiration takes me.
Comforted by Aer's eloquence.
ConnectHook Oct 2018
Q-Tips raised! Their storm approaches.
Swab those ear-gates free and clear.
Thunder frightens the rats and roaches.
Looming clouds are drawing near;
Audible anticipation
Waxes with our rising nation.

Hope-**** is the thing with feathers
flying low, right before the gale.
Strident left-wing get-togethers
Do their best to countervail.
Tribunals herald something worse . . .
Enjoy some popcorn with my verse.

Martial law—a new diversion,
Flapping wings on the Left and Right
Disturbs the coop (or coup?). Subversion
now displays its plumes outright.
Deep-state angels prove satanic
sparking upper-level panic.

Rumors can be quite arresting.
Cresting waves on the Psy-Ops sea
Break and roll, now manifesting
Dumbed-down mobs, conspiracy . . .
Some citizens awake to truth;
The rest rave on, benighted youth.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gfrGbax6j9I
nico papayiannis Jun 2016
THE RAVE DAYS

                          THC
                          H20
   ­                       Ecstasy

       Recreational            Dreaming
       And                         And
       Very                        Yes
       Excessive                Screaming

      HAVE LEFT AN AMBIENT HAZE

        Heavenly                  Limbo
        Acidic     ­                  Elation
        Velocity                    Futuristic
        Er­ratic                       Trance

       Acrobatic                   Artificial
       Nonchalance              Manipulating
                           ­               Bass
                                          Intelligence
         ­                                 Eternal
                        ­                  Narcotic
                                      ­    Temptations
                          
                      ­    Hacienda
                          Astoria
                  ­        Zoo
                          Enclosure
xakilah Dec 2018
i no longer have the time,
to coddle the feelings of others
who have disregarded the emotions
i have confided

i no longer have the will,
to beg for the love of people
who don't deserve mine...

i no longer have the heart,
to hold on to, and give my all to
someone, who will
not give even a fraction to me

i no longer have the patience
to apologize for things
that are not my fault

i am growing out of the mindset,
to be upset.
to rant and to rave.
to hurt, and to hold grudges.
to be petty,
and to strain my heart.
... my patience has run thin for those types of things


..... and for things of that such
Hasan Maruf Apr 2017
The last kiss from you
Lasted like a huddle in
The snow blitz
Rocking my anatomy
In the frosty glitz

The last words from you
That barged in my eardrum
You were in a hurry
To smell a new leaf
Draped in a diamond dew

The last gifts from you
Was an instrument
Which still I use
To recognize people
Or to refuse!

The last time
You said I love you
I remember I was laughing
Hysterically as if I was watching
Jared Leto’s jaded mimicry of Joker in YouTube

Intriguingly, when the last time I saw you ****
It felt like pretty Ivanka’s embarrassment
Noticing her dad is a lewd

The last time I was chatting
With you on Facebook
I was wondering why
I shouldn't hack your account?
To check your inbox

Yea, it was filled with the message of *******
F- Bombs, **** shaming and tagging you as harlot
All they were asking was your service of escort
Either in full discount or in hefty cash drops!

The last time I wrote
A letter of love to you
I discovered my Keyboard
Began to blurt out
No more, No more, No more…

The last time I had a chit-chat
With you in the Burger King or Pizza Hut
I listened to your hissing clack-clack
That someone else has become your puppy cat…

The last time I became sick
When I was with you
I heard you threw a party
Where you were whispering
To your besties, how
I become your double whammy!

The last time I was
With you in the bed
I felt like I was indentured
To **** a dummy toy
Sans spirit and flesh!

Loving you was like
Santa Claus gifted me
With a Pandora’s Box
As soon as I opened it
You decided to release
Our *** tape of your having ******
In pornhub’s forum of interracial!

The last time I heard of you
Is that you were giving an interview
To The Cosmopolitan’s board of review

Facing the barrage of inquisitions
You calmly joked, the series
Of latest uproar about you
In the social media or Internet
Is because certain people always
Love to rave about Women’s body
Shoving in and out of their pigeonhole
With their one night stand queen trophy
To flavor your form in their fantasmic mouth

You also smirked in a raspy voice
Defiantly declaring “we (women)
Have been locked indoors
With no air, no food, no water”
My last boyfriend is also no exception
He certainly thinks I came this far
Through ******* and deception
Slightly anti feminist but a poem representing contemporaneity in our life in a balanced manner of looking into male female relationship.
zebra Jan 12
they danced in a dream
like a bending shadow
face down
a begging ***
hungry back door paradise

ankles strapped on a foot worn floor
paint faced like Ubangi night
with pin needle eyes

in bed
blood red neon's
cutting curtains
like kissing claws
so their bodies wouldn't forget
dark pleasures lightening
and biting tantra tantrums
swallowing mad ***** blossoms of **** candy
breathing the others inhalations
foot sniffing ballet arch
in fastened Japanese yellow paper slippers

gazing rectums prayer
solar eyed insurrection

finger by finger
clutching wrists like the grave
for bloods salty cove
an injured landscape
a dire chaise desert
like bogs hold bones
a rave for a *****
covered in yellow ocher rubber sheets
soft on the feet
x rated amputee costume
made of blood lanterns and spit

look mommy no arms
a bellied tattoo
of hennaed homunculi  
burning needled skull

black eyed beauty hissing
while cord throated
rip tie
another notch please
a dizzy *******
down silver fluted gullet
in a steamed up bath house
party of blotted sockets

*** kitten
kissed dead girls thighs
tremulous and stretched
a shimmering serum
like wide tubular channels
as pontoon edges slit
through midnight howls for velvet skinned girl
who thrills retrograde
her head a veiled Jehovah
saliva wagging tongue ****
a stuttering ****** dance
a hula hot momma in rubble
slapping hot lipped kisses
over starved darkness
along telegraph avenue
melting eyes like butter
a globed pudding spill
******* drool drops of gold
and black river gladiators
slaughter lies
with every long ******
between cascading squeals

paraphilias mausoleum
like tumbling mice
a scapegoat pulp fiction
chiseled in cement
******* rips
drip drip drip

babbling
**** spasms like a hot glue gun
soiling cherry clover
Graff1980 Sep 2018
Everyone knows
I’m a nice guy,
but underneath
the underside
there is a darker sky,
storms set to thunder
shocking lighting
firing from my eyes.

Heartbeat bursts
facing those
who are worse,
corpse kings,
killing the innocent
line of little children,
tiny kids
riding in hearses
while a state dupe
steps up and rehearses
how to serve the greed
of the already wealthy.

I am
the classic
good guy,
but you will see
the shivers
of angst
and anger
rise in me
even when
I am stifling
said rage.

I bite my
gums so hard
that my teeth
chip and crumble,
I watch fools stumble
as I rave and rumble
ready to fight,
but just before
my otherside
comes to
take your life
I let the hate
subside,
and give you
the gift
of insight
and one more night.
Deb Jones Sep 2017
For personal reasons I don't have a deep faith, like most of you have, to wrap around myself like a mantle during a tragedy like this.

And I truly believe that Ashley's death is a tragedy.

I have wrote and rewrote this. Trying to find the right words to tell you how wonderful Ashley is. "Is" because she will live forever in our hearts. There is no "was"

And I finally realized I couldn't. It would take a lifetime. Or 22 years.

This started out to be my commemoration of Ash. Instead it has turned into something I probably won't share entirely.

Because I have lived a long life already, I know how the passing years eventually make grief bearable. How it knocks you to your knees and bends your back. But over time it becomes part of you and you learn to live in a new reality.

No one forgets a loved ones death. You just learn to live with the pain. We absorb it and carry the pain around with us forever.

My new reality is a life without Ashley in it. Where she never gets to grow older. But she also doesn't have to grow sicker. That gives me little solace. As I am selfishly wanting her back.

Type 1 Diabetes killed Ashley. It's an illness that is a battle every day. You fight to get through the day. To do the best you can and then get up the next day and fight the same battle all over again. You don't get a day off. Or a vacation from it. Because if you stop fighting for even one day you will have to fight 100 times harder to get back on track.

Ashley wanted to live a normal life. She wanted to do everything that her friends were doing. And her sister, made that possible. She watched over her, especially the last 2 years. They were together almost every day and night. I am proud of her. She grew into the adult she is by loving and treating Ash like a normal young woman. Adventuring with her.

Ashley lived with me from the time she was a toddler until she was 21. She was a daughter to my heart.

She was diagnosed with Type 1 Diabetes the very same day I was. She was 18. We learned how to live with it together.

She was doing so well. Only hospitalized a few times. While I was hospitalized monthly.

Her last hospitalization, I picked her up after her discharge. She was still vomiting a lot.

I called and made her an appointment with my Endocrinologist for the next morning.

I want to go back to that minute. The one right before I reached out to touch her shoulder to wake her for the appointment the next morning. The minute before I realized something was wrong.

She wouldn't wake up. I pulled her over, her eyes were open in a blank stare.

By doing chest compressions on her, arguably the scariest experience any loved one can go through, I saved Ashley.

A helicopter landed in one of my fields and flew her to the nearest Trauma Center.

So we could have almost 6 days to say goodbye to her. We are all forever grateful for that.

She was declared brain dead the first day she was in the hospital. But I already knew that.

I am so angry at Ashley's senseless death. Losing a beautiful young girl. One who tried to wrap everyone in a kindness that was her unique specialty.

But, I know Ashley was tired. So very tired. She went 16 days without eating. Only drinking water or juice she vomited back up.

I KNOW how she was just so tired. I know that kind of tiredness. Not only of your body, but of your spirit and soul. When you want to isolate yourself from everyone because it's too much to face. To deal with. There is no bravery or sacrifice. Just the silent chant of pleas. Pleas to make it stop. Pleas for solace. For surcease.

The hospital failed her. Looking at laboratory values versus a patient's physical self.

And I wasn't there to advocate for her. The family that was there with her were scared. And helpless to fix her. How do you hold a hospital accountable, with its anonymous staff, without holding me accountable too?

There are things I should have taught Ashley. How to ask for things she needed. How to demand. How to scream.

But I didn't. I talked with her about things she needed. But I didn't see the ramifications of her not using all avenues to get help. I didn't teach her how to scream.

Even though my screams are just as silent.

I knew she was severely brain damaged the morning I first saw her. But really...I was in denial too.

It helped to be the one all the information was funneled through. But the cost to me was denial. I could explain everything to everyone. Over and over again. To family groups. To individuals as they arrived at the hospital and I walked them down that long corridor to the intensive care.

Using that walk to prepare them. To stand beside so many that came to say goodbye to her. But still suppress my grief into a hot ball that I choked on every day she was on life support.

I could only really grieve the way I needed to once I was alone. My sobs were private. Thinking of Ashley when I went to sleep. And of her when I woke.

Every thing Ashley did during that 6 days she was on life support was talked about. And used to foster hope. The rare blinking of her eyelids. The few tears that coursed down her temples.

I knew they had pressure cuffs on her legs. To help keep her blood pressure up. Until I saw the damage to her legs...I still thought there was a chance. The chance I refused to say outloud. As if I challenged what I knew to be true with false hope.

I knew she had significant brain damage but I still thought there might be a chance she would recover, be a different Ashley than we were used to, an Ashley that would need rehabilitation. An outcome that would allow us to keep her here.

Then I saw her legs. I was alone and noticed the pressure cuffs were off. I lifted the blanket and saw her legs. They were blue and mottled with large sections of skin gone. I knew then that she really was not going to recover.

The surgeon even discussed taking one or both of her legs at the hip in order to save her from the infection. But he said she was too fragile and wouldn't make it through surgery. And even if they did the surgery it would not save her brain injury.

My family and I privately discussed ***** donation for Ash. We knew Ashley would have wanted that too. I called a friend of mine that works with the donor network and she said of course Ashley could be evaluated for any donation. I kept in contact with her while Ashley was in the hospital and asked when we could talk to the ***** donor advocate/liaison. That became a moot point when Ashley started spiking temperatures with the infections ravaging her body.

When she was finally completely off sedation she was unresponsive. That poor baby. That poor, poor baby.

Her brain damage was severe. And her legs were poisoning the rest of her body. She really just stayed for us. To give us a chance to say what we needed to say and what she needed to hear in her final moments. And we held her and told her we were walking with her into the sunlight.

Because I have many medical credentials, I was the one that talked for the family. And then talked for the physicians.

I asked all my family to come to a designated conference room. When I talked to my family about removing her life support there was anger. But as I continued to explain to them there was just a deep inconsolable sadness.

When 4 of the doctors came in I told them we didn't need a rundown of all the reasons to remove her from the ventilator. We had already made our decision.

When we turned the ventilator off she could breathe on her own for a little bit. I told my family that she would go fast. But seeing that she was breathing they all left the room. To smoke, to text, to make phone calls.

After they were gone about 4-5 minutes Ashley's breathing began to slow down. I was the only one in the room. I asked the nurses at the desk to call my family overhead.

They still didn't come back soon enough.

I climbed into the bed with Ash and pulled her into my arms. I rocked her and crooned to her. Told her how loved she was.

She took her last breath in my arms.

When my family funneled back into the room I heard over and over again how Ashley must have waited until they left the room to die so they wouldn't suffer more.

My heart cried. What about me? What about me.

I am supposed to tell people how loved she was. How she shined. I think they all know that already.

I keep trying to commemorate her. To write a speech detailing her life and how much she gave of herself to others. How she was the hub a lot of her family circled around. She was unceasingly happy. She was so loved.

You know what I want to do? I want to scream. I want to rant and rave about the unfairness. Point to other people, people I don't know and say why couldn't they have been taken instead? I don't love them like I do Ash. Point to myself also. Why wasn't I taken?

I will tell everyone what they already know. About how wonderful a person Ashley was and how much we love and miss her. How we will grieve the rest of our lives for her.

The night I came home after Ashley died I went right to my mother. I told her Ashley was gone. And she held me, in the dark, with my head in her lap while I cried. She didn't talk while I sobbed. Just made soothing noises.

And that was what I needed. What my heart craved.

I appreciate everyone that called me just to listen to me cry. Some would not even talk other than the first hello. Just soothing comforting sounds. I won't forget the gift you gave me of just listening to me sobbing.

I want to share something that was happening to me the first 2 months during the time she was on life support and the months after. I have never experienced hallucinations before. But I did during that period.  I would wake up with my arms out to people. In the middle of a conversation. Trying to soothe them. Help them. I don't understand why I needed certain things, like the way I woke while dragging dining chairs in my room. Arguing I needed them when my son tried to stop me. Or the way I would stop breathing in my sleep and knowingly maintain it as long as I could. Or the other private personal things I hallucinated.

I called a psychiatrist and talked to her about what I was experiencing. And she told me that it was normal. It stopped after about 2 months.

Part of me knows I was trying to carry the grief I knew my sister and her kids were trying to carry. If I could, I would take their grief and add it to mine. Just to give them some peace.

My niece, Ashley's sister had a little girl a month ago. Her name is Ashley Michelle.

There is no death, only a change of worlds. —NATIVE AMERICAN PROVERB
September 20 was the first Anniversary of Ashley's death day.
A million whispers danced in the twilight,
Dissolving and electrifying me in many ways;
If some of them made any sense,
My head wouldn't be a war zone;

I got Eliza seducing me in one ear,
My soul screaming in the other;
Most nights, I stand still and watch the party,
Tonight, I got invited too and they have me by my heart;

Times like these, pain and pleasure becomes same pale thing, I often contemplate to myself
"Is this madness or is this my normalcy?"
I rave on and on till they put me to sleep;

And I see you at the epicenter,
Your crimson fictional presence unstrings me,
You pull me in deeper, walk me out of my zone,
I've known our facade for so long, Folie à deux;
The details, the ectasy, the explosive colors, the Red;

I smile and take a bite, you call out my name,
My devil, I'm your prisoner, I surrender and die into your arms;
Together, we stitch this tapestry of travesty across my skin but Eliza still sings to my soul, there's my gratification, I chose to stay here, there's my personal apocalypse...
A scene in my head
Sally A Bayan Nov 2018
......was a freezing morning.
no rooster woke me....i opened
my eyes at first light of dawn,
sipped hot coffee....my thoughts,
recalling....traveling, with the swirling steam...

turkey wasn't done yet,
but, hours before, table was already set...
while awaiting guests,
I leant on the counter...my head, to rest,
i looked outside the small window
and was greeted by a full moon, aglow...

there was so much food on the table...weariness
was healed by laughter...conversations touched
on weather, politics, food...they refused to end,
glasses sparkled with bubbly wine....sliced meat
was arranged on a big tray...baked sweet potato
with caramel smelled, tasted good...broccoli rave
was green and spicy...i didn't know potato salad
could taste good without meat!....coffee and pies
came next.....the dogs, communicated with their
eyes and paws...socializing, too, like their masters,
i saw what was left, after slicing the plump roasted
fowl...a skeleton, still with thick strands of meat, and
the  palatable stuffing made with onions and prunes.

dishes were washed, kitchen was back in order,
after showering....everyone rushed to their beds,
yet, i had to peep out the window, one last time...
the full moon, still was upon us...confirming its
presence....a long time witness to the moments
we celebrate........encouraging our moods,
our thoughts.....our hearts.......even when
it's not a thanksgiving night..


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
November 23, 2018
Josh keller Feb 12
Scorpion, scorpion, who brought the pen
The tip of its tail, the needles sharp end
Poisonous dagger, To write all your wishes
******, soiled, bundled up tissues
Issues and cashews and nuts
Insanity.
Rhinoceros, rhinoceros, have you the tusk
The one on your nose, the jungled rough musk
Broken and bleeding torn from your face
Now beautiful laced girls
Discover your pearls
Thieves.
Fathers and mothers, did you bring the child
Shattered, broken, seen with both vile
Bangs and pangs broken dishes, birds sang
That night along with the screams
Did you believe
Destruction.
Artist, artists, have you the pieces
The ones of your life, sadness, defeation
The black strokes, lonely tokes
And pills and late sat to smoke
What does it all mean, by life
Uninspired.
Dictators, dictators, did you bring your people
The hobbled and squabbled, who prayed in the steeple
Who hung from the rafters, and rang with the bells
For whom it tolls, well, no one tells
And lost citizens
Vanish.
Butterflies, butterflies, did you keep your promise
Mottled, and bottled, spread across lawn mist
To be beautiful, shiny with no varnish
Your caterpillar state should not tarnish
The wings you have now
Growth.
Children, children, did you steal the money
For xanax, tricks, and acid, your'e funny
Brain dead generation
Same dread, memorization
Of all the dead jokes
Sad.
Villagers, villagers, did you burn the witch
The bloodied open stitch
That tore the wound of the town
And they all began to drown
In truths they didn’t like
Characters.
Kitten, kitten, did you trick the boy
Into finding your, mangled, ticked, body
Squashed, splattered, with marks in your back
Circled rocks, flowers, hit and smack
The dirt down flat
Betrayal.
Conscience, conscience, did you make me feel that way
For something I thought, for something I might not say
For something I did, and something I am
Why do you threaten
Why do I listen
shiver.
Ghosts, ghosts, do you really terrify
Blankets, and behind walls spy
Sheets, and bags of treats
You saw it all, *****
Through the clear square wall, sacred
Innocence.
Creatures, creatures, you dwelled in the cave
Red, glowing eyes. Blue burning rave
You crawl out at night
To get a good sight
Of all of the people passed out drunk
loneliness.

Beware this place.
Penne 18h
Sheets.
Beds.
Lay you
You, scent of miracle
Queen of purple
Dive with you
The lullness
The sweetness
The clouds
The home
Yet also the sting
Juice of youth sing
Not loud
Entangles me in waves
Indulge in the deluxe nature rave
Cool, mingling flame
Soothes my dame
As the mauve movement
Keep getting effervescent
The miss
The kiss
The mist
The rest
They dance and giggle freely
Fleetingly and sheepishly
Blushing as it brush against my flock of sheep
A sight of a paradox
A splash of silver fox
Comfy as its manes
Steadies my slumber
Even on a rocking lumber
With the breath of September
Keep making us enchanted under your spell
All will be swell
Thousand familiar but welcoming smell
To you I stay
We sway to heaven's way
May it turn us ***
Your nursing
Your care
Your play
It is our day
To blanket in your fields of saint
Easterly Dec 2018
O rich Heaven! The owner of earths! You already own the infinity!
Diamonds in the size of the mount Olympus, even vast,
Torches numberless, thousand times bigger than the phoebus,
Every departed soul from the past twinkles already on your lap large,
Seas without shores and the biggest of all ball floors,
Legends with roots so dense even light cannot probe, what's one more?
Of all combinations between the south and the north
O greedy Heaven! You **** for my love!

Don't rob this poor with such rich hands, I pray to you,
Even if I refrain others will rave and stain.
O don't pluck the apples of my eyes. Shame!
Had I been a beggar that blindness would have given me fame!
But living under your roof doesn't allow me to beg,
So, my sole request- let my loves throb in my rustic chest.
Sky Aug 2018
Every day feels like Winter. Sad and dreary, and cold.
You’re young and numb, but you feel so tired and old.
Summer isn’t Summer. Spring isn’t spring.
Seasons don’t matter, now they're just a dreaded thing.
The virus has devoured your mind, you aren’t even alive.
You used to walk hundreds of steps, but now, barely even 5.
Your heart is slower than your thinking.
Your sunken eyes are tired of blinking.
You want to give up, but the disease says no.
You wish that this deadly thing would just go.
All you are is skin and bone,
and you beg your voices to leave you alone,
but they won’t.

Your hair is dead and just dry straw, but you didn’t need it anyway.
Your fingernails are breaking off, but you didn’t need them anyway.
Your teeth are rotting one by one, but you don’t smile much anyway.
Your bones are next, since they are brittle and breaking,
What will it take to stop this internal aching?
As the virus eats your flesh, in your week old sweater,
you remember what it was like to be… better.

The sad thing is, you’ll continue to decay and let the voices rave,
even if it means that you will soon be placed in a concrete grave.
because at least you’ll feel pretty and alone,
proud of what’s left of your skin and bone.
Except you won’t be alive to be aware of yourself.
how sickening and skeletal you have made yourself.
you looked no different when you were alive,
except you were just living, but still dead inside.
You wear death perfectly, since this is who you are
and what you wanted.



At least no one can look at you.
At least no one can make you eat.
At least you can’t be tempted by a delicious treat.
At least no one can bother you, and let you rest in peace.
No mirrors to look in for hours and cry.
No more complaining that you wish you would just die.
No more worries, or sadness, or pain.
Your mind is gone and you're no longer insane.
You can sleep forever under the stars, and i suppose,
you can finally turn into nature, while you decompose.
And the best of all, is that you're no longer in your own skin.
No longer in your pitiful body, so technically, you win.
You’re a fresh soul who can no longer grieve,
and everything has left, and what’s left will leave.
Until you’re empty. Like you've always been.


But that hasn't happened yet.
Your mind is fading, and you always forget,
That you're still real, but you hate feeling real,
because you can still hurt, you can still feel.
You wish you could unzip your skin and set it on fire,
and watch it perish, in it’s disgusting attire.
At least you can disintegrate in that bed of yours.
Give in to all of your vicious wars.
But when it leaves temporarily, you still beg for more.
That’s how you know that you're sick to your very core.
You’ve been suffering this all alone,
You never leave the house, yet you feel like you aren't home.
And when this weather gets worse and hits you like a stone,
And the rain has fallen and the wind has already blown,
And this Winter climbs up your spine, and chills you to the bone,
You were once human. You would’ve never known.
This last day feels like Winter. Sad and dreary, and cold.


I hope that the broken disordered recover one day.  There is beauty through the broken, but you shouldn’t need to be broken to be beautiful.
Saint Audrey Aug 2018
Intensity
A single word, all that comes to mind
Propensity
For thought, or setting things aside

All the glowing neon signs
And everything that I try so desperately to convey
I just can't find the right words

It's got to have rain
No doubt
And light as well, so long as it's gray
Or neon red, with hues of blue
As long as its night
Or something tangible in white
Something representing past days

Ages ago, but familiar feeling as well
Ages, only years maybe
As long as its different

Some otherwise abandoned alleyway
Shipping bay turned rave
Abandoned shopping malls
Frozen over lakes

Minimalist design
Clean, and insulated against
Nature

The heart of the woodlands
Something like a cabin where
The lines between the outside and
Not are too disjointed to
Make a distinction

Maybe half the magic comes from
The inability to capture outside of
The occasional photograph that strikes
up some match
A spark or something
I don't know for sure
But if I capture it maybe
I don't have to feel it any more
I'm not sure if I'd be any
Happier
Or just worse off.
Minuscule Ego Sep 2018
We rave, and hailed, all hail the King
A lord who’s lowed, n’ yet, supreme
The savior of wars and of many greed
To govern and yield the land of the free
For tis clear he knows how we became
A root, and a leaf; let’s all hail the king!

This is Liberia!

A chest to aggress with hunger n’ thirst
That fruitfully enjoy climbing the rates
And faintly encourage pointing the worst
To soak n’ appraise the young's of the freed
Whose lost in the land of which they came
A branch, and a leaf; a transparent cry!

This is Liberia!

We rave, and hailed, we want the king
A man who’s loved, n’ yet, disesteem
The sculptor of deeds, and of many glee
To seize n’ dictate the land of undeveloped
For tis loud his assets are well developed
A leaf, and a root; let’s all boo the king!

This is Liberia!

A quest to possess the likeness of Christ
That truthfully enjoy the gees of versed
And skillfully encourage the act of digress
To juiced and yield off the land of the free
Fo tis clear he don’t know how we became
A leaf, and a branch; a transcendent lie!

This is Liberia!



Inspired by: Falz song- “This is Nigeria”
Childish Gambino Song- “This is America”

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthen me”
"A king will remain in power as long as his rule is honest, just, and fair."
Proverbs 20:28

— The End —