"ritualism" poems
I refuse to stop now,
See I'm only just beginning
Veil over the collective
Eye(s)
Let's move from spiritualism
Pentagrams and upside down crosses
Illuminati to satanism
Let's put it in modern music,
We're gonna die young
Let's lose ourselves in lust
In sweat
In pagan ritualism
Let's go for shock value
Over the normal cynicism
Let's drink ourselves to death
And ****** into life
I can't believe
This is modern music.
Dec 2, 2012
Dec 2, 2012 at 10:42 AM UTC
Belligerent- at war, designating or of a state recognized under international law as being engaged in a war.
Decadence- A process, condition, or period of decline, as in morals, art, literature; deterioration, decay.
Belligerent decadence,
may I reproach your horrible
agenda?
Fore-score wasn't a play on
words. These years have passed
as unwillingly as we've
accepted your rule.
Hyperboles creating a sense
of dissidence, because judging
anomalies is a task better left
to the proficient.
Maybe now their decadent
dissidence may materialize.
Belligerent decadence,
is it for you that sympathy
now grows sour?
Sour enough to please a pigs
trough. A malignant canopy
erected for weary heads,
yet finding relief means
resolution is what's being fed
to hungry bureaucratic slave
hands obsessing on getting more
for nothing.
Obsolete, ritualism has become
more copied than read. Is one
agonizing grin of disgruntled
workers creating the back drop,
for proud men raising a trophy,
the emblem of monetary
perplexity.
Not enough make enough.
So belief can die it's painful
reminder,
"Faith cast as dice, when no
one believes there's a chance."
Belligerent decadence,
remind me to remind them,
the people you so rally to scourge;
that interpretation is not
better left for your eyes,
but theirs.
Remind me to speak in
rag tag metaphor so as to
dispel the wrench clogging
their system.
Remind me to encourage
them to explore further;
beyond their machinations,
so they again can see this
machines engine.
Maybe the clog is yours,
but like every circulatory
system may fall victim to
stroke like conditions so
shall yours.
Belligerent decadence
rise up fallen brethren,
falling faster than the
history of Columbus.
How long till we see
the incredible hyperbole
being played out so
deliberately? How long till
we seethe for proof,
the products of ignorant
disease.
How long till we find
life's anathema like genius
executed upon every casted
ballot?
The forsaken taking heed
making up the norm for the
moment.
Empty rants, mind slowing
products infect our once proud
carriers with poverty, and
disease.
Creative incentive tossed
upon the coals of cold furnaces,
define all eyes and see all
ears believe.
Then again if you haven't
given interpretive thought a
chance, belligerent decadence
will never vanish, but upon
this battlefield, your soul
will be brandished.
"Belligerent Decadence!"
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 8:44 AM UTC
Thank you for getting angry when I didn’t have enough pans to make your eggs
The one thing I didn’t offer for breakfast
I told you over and over again I wouldn’t eat
Still you scowled at my lack of ingredients or kitchen tools
Refused to cook dinner with me
It gave me a reason to leave
Girls stay on bad dates because we’re convinced you’re the good guy
Just misguided
Love will change you, you’ll be better
But you stood in my kitchen and tried to take my roommate’s things and I thought
“I have the right to leave you.”
If independence is my cardinal sin,
I’ll walk right up to Satan and tell him to please leave his shoes by the door
I go to bed early and I shower at night
With time, we can pull him from the bargaining stage of grief
The only hell I could ever be left in is a weekend with man who expects my body as a welcome gift
Into my apartment
Wants me to buy new plates because a table setting for one isn’t good enough for two
As if you live at my kitchen table
Both nights I didn’t eat, was sick to my stomach
Afraid that you might see me settle down and construct an opportunity
I’m not sorry for my lack of dinnerware
You ate off the plate that holds my toast each morning near my diet coke
You participated in the ritualism that constructs me an independent woman
The body you will not lay hands on today, owner of the bed you will not sleep in
I did not let you remove that from me
If I had bought plates for you, you may have come back.
Jun 20, 2019
Jun 20, 2019 at 10:29 PM UTC
in a quixoticistic sense
we are not found lacking
but do long for an end to endlessness
visions of grey crowds coagulate
the lab rats of statisticians
habituated to coagulated grey crowds
habituated to statistics
death am become news article
come of putrefaction indifference
life partitioned from non-life
growing from stagnated
the information of our age has not changed us
spirits made flesh
ghost operated organics
programmed; pristine
we confront
fractured assemblage ritualism
vacantly bored holes in billboard confessionals
mounting dull glossy vibes on the highway
it says
to eat our tails
pray for return to our pasts
and love our niche
**** that
here's to breaking the mold
here's to seizing the day
I will not wait
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 1:58 AM UTC