"remorseless" poems
Someday, someday far away
when all the pain has passed
beyond the sea, the sun the stars
I'll find you...love...at last
Though raging storm
or cosmic ray
may tear my limbs apart
my love for you they cannot sway
for you possess my heart
Our Earthly lives hold many fears
remorseless in their quest
to break apart the bonding years
for which we've stood the test
Those precious times together
cocooned in love's embrace
a breathless bead upon my brow
that falls upon your face
Remember me my Angel's dream
as soon my life is through
for every sinew of my soul
belongs alone to you.
Mar 28, 2010
Mar 28, 2010 at 8:00 AM UTC
Christmas can be a time
when families get together:
Young children scream, wine glasses gleam,
both ready for M&S dinner.
TV's in the corner
rerunning Home Alone,
Heart radio's in the kitchen,
Chris Rea's driving home,
again.
Toddlers find the wrapping
more engaging than the Duplo
Teen couples find the company
less of interest than their own.
The dog's confused and excited
with so many different sources
of scratches and pats, he can't relax,
his whining is remorseless.
Christmas can be a time
when families are missed,
the parcel made last post
winging off to little sis.
Zoom will come in handy
to laugh across the miles,
the screen will mask the tears
and focus on the smiles.
Gran will talk of Christmas past
when everyone was home
'Cept in Gulf War 1 when Uncle John
went away, ....
Christmas can be a time
when budgets get stretched tight,
cash pressures get to breaking point
and prompt senseless fights.
Some focus on opportunity
to spend some gilt-free money,
the only prayers are for extra hours
and a faster tesco trolley.
For others it's simply ' Yuletide'
an excessive celebration,
a winter feast, all you can eat,
give in to all temptation.
Most focus on the family,
even more on the gifts;
there's little time for Jesus
assigned amongst the myths.
Some do remember Jesus
from half forgotten carols,
they know there's something more
than donkeys and angel heralds.
For there He is in the middle,
noticed once in a while;
it's His birthday, but all He's getting
is a half-hearted song and a smile.
He's no longer a babe in a manger,
He's now a resurrected King,
waiting for those who would worship
to stand and welcome Him in.
Whatever your experience of Christmas
you can come just as you are,
His love is unconditional
He'll accept you warts and all.
So come on!
It’s a season to celebrate!
To dance, to sing and to shout!
Your Saviour invites you to join Him,
so when you sing this Christmas, make it count.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 5:43 PM UTC
Do you want
to hear
a story droll?
About a dog
with a kind
soul
Outside,
that night,
I heard the winds howl
Inside
was the sound
of an intermittent growl
I opened the door and he
slipped out
Some time later, he
came back with a pout
Reprimanded he was
for coming back
with a muddy taint.
Remorseless,
head raised, he
stood there defiant.
“Okay, Scot!
Let’s see what you got”
He gently
dropped
his big scowl
and Out fell,
in my palms,
a baby owl!
Apparently he had
peeped far
from his tree hole
When Scot was
beneath that tree
sniffing a mole
Frightened but fine,
the owlet
was a bit choosy
So we went,
to put him back,
in his tree hole cosy!
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 6:01 AM UTC
White body kills Black body
But no body saw a thing.
Every body has an opinion
But no body has the truth.
White body thought that it could
Beat the blackness out of Black body
But Black body stayed black.
Black body cried out,
"Some body! Please! Help!
This violates ****** rights!"
But still, no body heard a thing.
White body has weapons
It inherited from its ancestors:
Police
White Privilege
Justice System
Freedom
Hypocrisy
Lies
Gun.
Black body had a weapon too:
None
White body stays free, remorseless
While Black body lies in the ground.
White body's name is America.
Black body's name was Black Body.
Oct 26, 2017
Oct 26, 2017 at 6:20 PM UTC
This muggy, sultry sun is no fun:
Longest sustained heatwave for over forty years.
Suffocating Sahara with Death Valley cracks
In the dry arid soil.
My electric fan shattered with a power surge
Into fragmented plastic shards.
I so miss it now.
It’s oppressively tropical,
With volcanic heat
And Pressure bearing down on us.
The clammy mugginess of a sauna.
Not the clean dry air you find abroad,
Yet still that remorseless torrid scorching,
Roasting and toasting.
Just too much.
Hot air clothed in humid moisture,
Stuffy and sweaty,
Steaming to a haze
And later
Thunder storms.
I long for a cool brew
To freeze my throat
And quench my raging thirst:
Ice cool, ice cool, ice cool.
I’m sure not talking
Of tea.
Paul Butters
© PB 6\8\2018.
Aug 6, 2018
Aug 6, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
oh the unholy chores of my withered lord
of my remorseless discord
must stop the hordes as though an indian from the cupboard
smothered
in the rugged stubbornness of my hellacious mischief and deviance
sounding out the ingredients of my grievances and disobedience
patient expediance.
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 6:49 PM UTC
They huddle in the cold damp darkness
grateful for the sheltering sandstone
shuddering at each echoing blast
a remorseless dull ache
like their meagre rations
eyelids shutting wrinkling between attacks
seeking peace and inner sleepless solace.
'Them docks is taking a pasting.'
'Me Dad works there.'
Another attack, tunnels rumble
evoking century old echoes
of rusty trundling drum-line wagons
bearing sandstone blocks to build the docks
now being blitzed blighting the night sky.
The morning brings a dusty disquiet.
Merseyside emerges curses soldiers on.
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
They easily left in a remorseless goodbye
I tried to forget and seemed to get by
The hardest part of moving on
Is always remembering that they’re gone
Even if they’ve forgotten about me
Feelings can’t be erased nor the memories
Friends stick together and lovers depart
I’ll say I’m better but always feel the spark
With a promising brandish it died on your end
My heart sunk and drowned, trying to pretend
That I felt okay, that I was going through some phase
Everyone assumed, but it never felt that way
What does it matter, you have a wife and kids
To be trusted and lusted by you
I’d sacrifice anything to give
But dreams like that never come true
Happy ever after seems a faraway thing
Effervescent laughter inside two rings
That sparkle on both of your intertwined hands
How left behind I feel you’ll never understand
Apr 16, 2021
Apr 16, 2021 at 11:26 PM UTC
SWEET daughter of a rough and stormy fire,
**** Winter's blooming child ; delightful Spring !
Whose unshorn locks with leaves
And swelling buds are crowned ;
From the green islands of eternal youth,
(Crown'd with fresh blooms, and ever springing shade,)
Turn, hither turn thy step,
O thou, whose powerful voice
More sweet than softest touch of Doric reed,
Or Lydian flute, can sooth the madding winds,
And thro' the stormy deep
Breathe thy own tender calm.
Thee, best belov'd ! the ****** train await
With songs and festal rites, and joy to rove
Thy blooming wilds among,
And vales and dewy lawns,
With untir'd feet ; and cull thy earliest sweets
To weave fresh garlands for the glowing brow
Of him, the favour'd youth
That prompts their whisper'd sigh.
Unlock thy copious stores ; those tender showers
That drop their sweetness on the infant buds,
And silent dews that swell
The milky ear's green stem.
And feed the slowering osier's early shoots ;
And call those winds which thro' the whispering boughs
With warm and pleasant breath
Salute the blowing flowers.
Now let me sit beneath the whitening thorn,
And mark thy spreading tints steal o'er the dale ;
And watch with patient eye
Thy fair unfolding charms.
O nymph approach ! while yet the temperate sun
With bashful forehead, thro' the cool moist air
Throws his young maiden beams,
And with chaste kisses woes
The earth's fair ***** ; while the streaming veil
Of lucid clouds with kind and frequent shade
Protect thy modest blooms
From his severer blaze.
Sweet is thy reign, but short ; The red dog-star
Shall scorch thy tresses, and the mower's scythe
Thy greens, thy flow'rets all,
Remorseless shall destroy.
Reluctant shall I bid thee then farewel ;
For O, not all the Autumn's lap contains,
Nor Summer's ruddiest fruits,
Can aught for thee atone
Fair Spring ! whose simplest promise more delights
Than all their largest wealth, and thro' the heart
Each joy and new-born hope
With softest influence breathes.
2.2k
liquor,
penetrates the air
creeps under the door
settles on the breath
of a witch.
hissing, glaring, staring, kissing
on someone, anyone who walks by.
She spits fury and frustration
in all directions.
slurred words, glazed eyes,
heart of a monster…
I enter the Cave,
ignorant and vulnerable.
Through the dark,
her burning, malignant
eyes seek out a goat.
A blood vessel.
her past victims
scattered in pieces across the
beaten ground.
Pulp. Mangles. Tortured. Suffering
from the poison of her bite,
the remorseless dismissal of them just
inches from death.
She wants them to cling on…
I’ve heard stories.
Seen skeletons.
They warned me to stay away,
They call her badger,
snake, bloodsucker…
They’re convinced no one can survive her bite.
Well,
I don’t need liquor to mask my scent
or get blood in my eyes.
I’m from out of town,
and this ***** is about to meet the Wolverine.
Sep 14, 2010
Sep 14, 2010 at 8:08 PM UTC
Some things never change
The circular stains on the ceiling above my heart shaped bed didn't exist under that rule
Sometimes they seemed constant
And sometimes that made me feel ok
But other times, as I lay in bed,
Somewhere near the halfway point between laying down and falling asleep,
I stared up at them and they moved
Left and right
Ellipsing each other,
Becoming ovaloid in shape
Sometimes they simply flitted away, vanished
I thought them gone,
But they continued to return.
They would not be so remorseless as to leave and not look back to see the blank space they had left.
So my little circular stains stayed for a while.
I was happy looking up in wonder at something I could never understand but never dared question.
Until one day I simply wasn't. My interest in the stains steadily faded until I began to drift off on my side staring out the window, searching for owls I could hear but not see. These sounds made me hope.
They made me open the windows I had locked tight.
They made me breathe.
Those sounds lull me to sleep even now.
And I've stopped looking for the circles completely
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 2:43 PM UTC
The sky is so polluted but it's beautiful, isn't it though?
Feel bad, so to relax, sit outside 7-Eleven with a smoke.
With the way I hold my head you can't even tell I'm poor.
Or maybe you can, because "What's that?" You ask. It's
the loose change in my pockets overfilled to the spilling
You hear me walking, it's no-cash, it's no-wash, the half
blood broke *** All the bad habits, no natural habitat.
Clothes from the Village feel almost as fine on your flesh
as the high class new tags from the corner off 5th/Saks
What makes you happy? What makes you happy?
With just a little more coming in you could finance your
fantasy, or get more freak and nasty. Green is the color
on top of the clouds that catches you falling before the ground.
Shuck corn, remorseless, you can get it paid. Mesmerize
at the numbers rising higher and higher, coerced too
easily to enjoy your stay. What makes you happy?
What makes you happy? The view from the penthouse
on top of the city. Pity. There's no love in the home you
built. There's no cause no effect no affection waking
you up to touch the world with the passion igniting
your eyes and pulsing out your fingertips. One step
from homelessness without one hope, but faith is
a better replacement in the end and I've got faith
in code.
Sep 28, 2015
Sep 28, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
I’m a just right, out of sight, lily-white,
Never coy, ball of joy, good old boy,
So great it keeps me up at night,
Clever son of all the tricks I employ.
A world-beating, caucus leading,
Really big deal, big wheel big shot,
Clean outside, mean on the inside
Super savvy, super cool, super hot.
I’m the guy you want to toast
I’m the tops, I’m where it’s at
Some are good, but I’m the most.
I’m a sainted southern aristocrat.
It’s not good to get on my bad side.
I’m a fearless, remorseless go-getter.
I’m right, you’re wrong, if there’s a fight,
Yeah, you may be good, but I’m better.
I’m a cut above, you’ve just got to love
A gift from God sent from high above.
A card-carrying good guy to the letter,
A credit to my entire race, nobody better.
Whether in the news or word of mouth,
A quality beacon of the Sainted South.
I’m the guy you want to toast
I’m the tops, I’m where it’s at
Some are good, but I’m the most.
I’m a sainted southern aristocrat.
It’s not good to get on my bad side.
I’m a fearless, remorseless go-getter.
I’m right, you’re wrong, if there’s a fight,
Yeah, you may be good, but I’m better.
So, go away with your stupid picketing;
We knew how to run things way back when
We have God on our side, so just back off.
Old ways are the best way, again and again.
Your talk about equality and nigras rights
May sound good, but it’s all just libel.
We are the chosen children of our God
And you can find that in The Holy Bible.
I’m a cut above, you’ve just got to love
A gift from God sent from high above.
A card-carrying good guy to the letter,
A credit to my entire race, nobody better.
Whether in the papers or word of mouth,
I’m a quality representative of The South.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 7:02 PM UTC
Orange orange everywhere
Orange orange in the air
I’m given an orange despair
By a man with orange hair
I see through his orange glare
To see nothing really there
A man became president
Promising to evict residents
His stupidity self evident
When he says nothing relevant
About all the topical elements
He just talks for the hell of it
He’s unfit to lead
Because he’s equipped with greed
And an unwillingness to read
Gaining success from his family tree
He lives the American dream
By making others scream
To indulge his team
And his bigotry
All it took for his courtship
Was a culture of celebrity worship
And idiots buying his horseshit
Of acting remorseless
The gullible are impressed
With how well he is dressed
So they think he’s the best
Putting him in a wing that is west
Because he has a lot of money
But without any capability
You better start running
Money let’s him **** willingly
He takes advantage of the stupid and racist
By pointing at people with brown faces
Saying they’re here to replace us
Like they’re working for Asus
And not mowing his lawn
He said they will **** us
To manipulate his pawns
He’s a megalomaniac
Who thinks he’s a brainiac
But it’s a brain he lacks
To understand the impact
Of his negative attacks
Still he thinks he’s a genius
Which justifies his meanness
So his cruelty is seamless
While he claims to redeem us
This is our most vulnerable hour
With a president compromised by foreign powers
Building ivory towers
By turning minorities sour
There’s a litany of reasons
Why he calls them heathens
But it all revolves around freedoms
Being stripped from those who need them
His constituents have their heads in the sand
So they blindly give in to his demands
Going after whoever he’s ******
In the name of this land
Other kinds are banned
You can tell the bad guys have won
When they start separating mothers from sons
At the end of a gun
So there’s nowhere to run
Away from the oppression
Of our downward descension
As he does nothing to lessen
The root of our depression
His concentration camps
Give a **** slant
To his lofty plans
Until no one can stand
Without a weapon
Because of his deception
Which was his intention
To win the election
He promised detention
Of the boogeyman mentioned
The red, white and blue
Adopts an orange hue
When the foreign lose
From the fascist bruise
Of an orange noose
May 1, 2019
May 1, 2019 at 9:47 PM UTC
The joy of the fresh sunlight
and the ecstasy of the darkest night
are unexplainable by any word or voice
but can be explained by the silence in the noise
Retreating is the winter's fog and mist
and advancing is the time of a spring
And in the dryest moment of a rain
to the brightest moment of the darksest night
Happiness will prevail
Embrace the greatest moment of life
Abandon all the anxiety
for resting in reward of tranquility
Awaiting the darkest night
to vanish in prescence of light
The remorseless music of river,
as it flows
ending in the sea,reflecting the moon
as it glows
Now the moon glows no more
Comes the Darkest Night,as it came before
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 7:06 AM UTC
I have walked this street too long
My legs hurt and my chest rattles
As I light another smoke
To fuel my endless march
Sneaky slow-motion suicide
(note the sibilance of the wheezing lungs)
I have to stop for a while
But though my body fades and fails
My manic mind remains restless
Merciless and remorseless
Pushing punching and prodding
And defiant unto the coffin
Get the lid down quick, boys
By Phil Roberts
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
Light steps sound from the basement stairs.
A case of home brewed liquor in his father’s hands.
Bizarre, cancerous bulges from cap to bottom.
Plastic explosives from corrosive neglect from stow-away rooms
in white neighborhoods.
His father with a bronze idea, all of them with a destructive mind
A twenty-two saloon rifle bottled up too,
like a maniac gone off his reds and blues,
ready to fire out
with remorseless recoil.
High octane, high explosive, high art.
Cartridge clicks into the chamber.
Son like father, his aim is true.
Like twelve year olds with cherry bombs
we blast a hole right through.
******* boom! Rancid swill rain
staining the biting bright snow
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Our footsteps echo through ancient halls,
where here is everywhere
and every time is now.
Caesar’s twin-edged conquests are our own
as is Brutus’s fickle knife
and Marc Anthony’s cunning speech.
Plague steals across our Europe
like a remorseless highwayman -
rosies all ringed and falling down.
We wait in Wien's Kärntnertor theater
for Schiller’s An die Freude
to shine anew in Beethoven’s score
and are ushered in at Menlo Park
where Edison's tungsten faintly glows.
Tomorrow will bring sun to the night.
There's Jonas Salk at his microscope.
One more test will crack the code
to banish polio's scourge.
But nature’s caprice strews logs on our roads.
We are dashed by a Tsunami’s rage.
Katrina’s torrents have swallowed our homes.
Prides of warriors wade rivers of blood
and Darfur bullets tear into our chests.
Nuclear Toys ‘R Us shelves are fully stocked.
We are the heirs of each triumph and treachery.
We grasp the keys to tomorrow.
What have we done? What must we do?
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 5:35 AM UTC
Christmas can be a time
when families get together:
Young children scream, wine glasses gleam,
waiting for M&S dinner.
The TV's in the corner
rerunning Home Alone,
Heart radio's in the kitchen,
Chris Rea's driving home,
again.
The toddlers find the wrapping
more engaging than the Duplo
Teen couples find the company
less of interest than their own.
The dog's confused and excited
with so many different sources
of scratches and pats, she can't relax,
her whining is remorseless.
Christmas can be a time
when families are missed,
the parcel made last post
winging off to little sis.
Zoom will come in handy
to laugh across the miles,
the screen will mask the tears
and focus on the smiles.
Christmas can be a time
when budgets get stretched tight,
cash pressures get to breaking point
and prompt senseless fights.
Some focus on opportunity
to spend some gilt-free money,
the only prayers are for extra hours
and a faster Tesco trolley.
For others it's simply ' Yuletide'
an excessive celebration,
a winter feast, all you can eat,
give in to all temptation.
Most focus on the family,
even more on the gifts;
there's little time for Jesus
assigned amongst the myths.
Some do sing of Jesus
in half forgotten carols,
they know there's something more
than donkeys and angel heralds.
And there He is in the middle,
noticed once in a while;
it's His birthday, but all He's getting
is a half-hearted song and a smile.
But He's no longer a babe in a manger,
He's now a resurrected King,
And he waits for you who would worship
to stand and welcome Him in.
Christmas can be a time
for each of us to choose -
Our Christmas King stands waiting
Will we worship Him in truth?
Nov 5, 2023
Nov 5, 2023 at 12:56 PM UTC
Standing here, now, at the apex of my brief existence,
A great void lies before me,
As dark and empty as the soulless casket I now inhabit.
I stand here because I can,
Because I am strong where others are not.
Because I have the will to see what all others are blinded by.
Because I am strong enough to see clearly through the darkness.
It is shame that blinds us.
And it is this same shame that protects us.
I see myself as I am,
Mortal
Flawed
And yet, through the void,
A silent spectre watches.
Studying me with the same fascination in which I study it,
Our eyes locked in an unnatural gaze.
We are both one and the same, and yet we are not.
Where I cry, he smiles.
Where I scream, he laughs.
Where I feel pain, he feels bliss.
Mistakes are made and written into your past
In an ink that cannot be removed
So clearly written and yet so clearly a stain
My book has been very well written,
The ink seeps from its very pages.
I stare at my nightmare,
I see his book is clean and crisp.
We are both one and the same, and yet we are not.
Anger fills my body,
Whether it be fuelled by jealousy or hate is unknown to me
I ****** myself at this haunting.
Knocking him to the floor
Fuelling my rage,
Each blow feeds my anger
Increasing its appetite.
I am lost to the void
Remorseless
Relentless
A slave to my raw emotion
When the hunger was satisfied
Control was returned to me
I stare into the eyes of the empty husk I left before me
Crippled by my own weakness
So lifeless
I see what should have been
I see my family, I see my children, I see love.
Tears begin to flow, from both me
And my lifeless spectre
The void seems darker now
We are both one and the same, and yet we are not.
And so here I stand
As The Man I Am
Over The Man I Could Have Been.
Mar 23, 2013
Mar 23, 2013 at 6:20 PM UTC
[one]
love is:
a recipe without quantities, the pages all torn out and set back at random
here you are, take it, put the pieces back together
with no frame of reference
no identifying features
each part has innumerable intricate delicate machinery
that you will break, clumsily.
because you have no idea how to use it
and if you break it
you can neverever put it together right.
it will always be half unfinished
a line with the ending word
- minused
cut
dropped
forgotten or misused
lied to and abused
abandoned or pursued
[two]
this betrayed feeling can't begin to cover
the dismay when reeling from a bitter lover
in disarray fleeing from a sinful tether
bells gently pealing to mourn a death letter
unencumbered kneeling before a cement header
diving, graceless, screaming descent forever
praying without hope to a remorseless deity
something like asking a black hole for salvation
like looking into the mirror and seeing the Void
staring out at you with those self-loathing eyes
and knowing why you let that Beast reside
cupping in your hands the black foam that runneth over
glass teeth disintegrating in a holocaust skull
chewing up love like the last morsel of gristle
drunken tales told to bewitch the last symbol
but you're not bold enough to release the animal
so it rages inside
terrified
alive
cage-eyed
wild
the treaty for your freedom is in your peaceful kingdom
find it and flee from all the things you've become
sit down to rest your weary in the warmer season
but the fear will always find you
when the bravery has lost its reason
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
The shattered concrete sidewalk spits shards of itself to the side with each crunching step. A stagnant yellow light suppressed by oppugning umbra strives with zeal to illuminate this phantasmal ambiance. The cadence of footfall hesitates at the corner of a decaying building. Eyes locked on a crimson door fabricated by the hands of Bhairava. It was this remorseless portal that produced the walker of dreams. With her approach the obscuration of scenery increased until there was nothing but two beings converging beneath the steadfast but dim light. Without sound the first tear fell to the ground. It grasped towards the earth below, delayed as if opposed by gravity, but with weight enough to overcome. The rest followed, after observing to make sure the first hit its target. Clairvoyance had become a curse to the seer, as the plight of the dreamwalker was revealed without words uttered. Secrets poured out almost as quickly as the now rushing tears. These concrete slab secrets attached ropes to the empathetic sleeper's wrists and anchored him beside the dreamwalker. With each thought that passed the bindings tightened around his appendages. And then this intruder, void of but a few secrets, looked up at him with horror. She comprehended too well the anguish caused by this affliction. As she rose beside him an embrace was offered, to suppress the gravity of the situation. For the first time she spoke. Her whispered words reverberated with such intensity that only dust and thread existed where the bindings had pulled and gnawed at skin. "It will all be ok now". She had come seeking comfort, but left beyond that horrible door with only the comfort that his memories would be purged upon waking. He woke with a heavy heart tied to concrete blocks, contemplating whether or not to utter his sorrowful knowledge to the one that provided it to him unknowingly.
Feb 8, 2012
Feb 8, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC
Doesn't it bother anyone else: that by simply participating in our current culture of mindless, resource exhaustive consumer capitalism, we're directly perpetuating a model of conduct that will eventually lead to the loss of our habitat, and the decline of our species; one whose remorseless self indulgence now guarantees a rise of global sea level up to 10 feet?
Doesn't it bother anyone else: that we live in a society run by people who we don't know, who don't care about us, but only their own short term gain, regardless of the negative impact that their actions may and often do have on entire generations of people, present and future?
Doesn't it bother anyone else: that our economy thrives on war, and has since the 1940's, that the total for defense contracts this year has been $253,802,074,353, and that 19% of our federal budget goes to defense, with a meager 1% funding education, that we have a president who calls our congress "ceremonial," wins the Nobel Peace Prize, and then unilaterally commits acts of international terrorism without breaking a sweat?
Doesn't it bother anyone else that we're on camera all the time, that our government spies on all of our communications 24/7 as well as those of other countries, or that people who reveal these injustices are shut up in prisons for life, tortured, or exiled?
Doesn't it bother anyone else that our police force is increasingly hostile to innocent people, that they carry AR-15 assault rifles to peaceful protests, and that they constantly abuse their power? I have never ONCE consented to search, but has that ever stopped them?
Doesn't it bother anyone else that our lives are essentially meaningless in the grander scheme of things, that we all dance like puppets, and jump through hoops like dogs, working at jobs we don't like for people we can't stand, to earn money that often barely supplants our basic needs?
Doesn't it bother anyone else?
Doesn't it bother anyone else?
DOESN'T IT BOTHER ANYONE ELSE?!?!?!?
Dec 7, 2014
Dec 7, 2014 at 8:51 PM UTC
i do not see them crumble as most
wilting below a burden of naturalized slavery
neither as a remorseless lament of hopelessness
or awkward betrayal by time
i cannot see them crucified by false hope
echoed and embedded in folklore
ardently imposed upon a claim of immortality
piously preached by mercenary saviors
i shall not surrender to ashes
before capricious flames in heart of a nation
smolder the vegetative apathy
of a sickened red fluid in its veins
i shall not be silenced
for i refuse to accept the malignant misinterpretation
of her as a **** and womb only
screaming its last sufferance
she is my mother
a living breathing soul
one heart parched by seasons of drought
melted in romance of a vagrant monsoon
lost in torrents of reminiscence
and lost in memory of a time
godliness wasn't branded on stars
faithfulness wasn't obligatory
devotion wasn't a farce
i long to see distances wail into heaven's ears
shrivel and wither away at the command of my brothers
be shattered to the dust of oblivion
forever dead and buried
i claim the world for what it is
a stunning sight of nature's wisdom
and love alike
i steer my passionate agony
into the inspiring fate of a land
where my guile would be echoed by
rhetorical lovers and leechers alike
and i shall not hold back.
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 11:41 AM UTC
The importance of new life so easily forgotten,
Common sense, family, friends hurriedly lost,
Never did he offer simple respect they deserved,
“…how conceited it was to think of just me,
This angel, now gone, I just..failed to swerve,
Too late, teasing my ego with stolen youth,
Selfish pleasure – my starter, sickly dessert,
My main course, served cold an’ breathless,
This image, this perfect life, this Innocent,
Head bowed, my remorse is too little, too late,
My daughter alone, tired of waiting, asleep,
A kind, faultless wife – unaware of the horror,
Hand-cuffed an’ charged with manslaughter,
My eyes forever tearful, I now see in my mind,
The grief of the mother in this shameful theft,
Haunting me through the past and the future,
The darkness I have left, the unknown space,
I am so sorry, I was drunk and driving too fast,
Numb in what I am for the childish careless fun,
I am a father now to have realised - I have taken,
I will never forget, for she will never be gone,
That I, John Cassidy, have caused this death…”
The remorseless will always be quiet, alone,
To their pain, their old acquaintance until an end,
Love lost, hurt forever loaned from the senseless.
Dec 30, 2013
Dec 30, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC