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L A Lamb Sep 2014
12-17-2-13

Her face flooded with scarlet
her nose flushing out bright red
Did I do it?
Did I do that?
How could I just do that;
was it someone else instead?
She says three separate people
control the thoughts inside my head.
"which one is the realest"  she asks.
I'm not pretending when I ask for amending.
Babatunde Raimi Dec 2019
You want a make out
Without a ring on it
You call it attractive
I call it infactuation
They call it seductive spirit
They just want the pudding
Bunch of irresponsibles

This kind goeth not away
But by fasting and prayer
A generation of sadomasochists
Bunch of nymphonaniacs
Do I look like a loose ball?
Even if I wanted to play
"Shoe get size, 'mbok'"

Open your legs at your peril
When it's time to settle down
Men look beyond beauty
Character and intelligence tops the list
Even love is not enough
When he is ready to "ring it"
Don't say I didn't tell

When you advertise your wares
Frontally and from behind
You attract what you represent
Men don't like exposed wares
If you cover it very well
They will pay fire to posses it
Trust me, I speak from experience

Queens of the night
Their office opens at night
Adorned in skimpy gowns, no brassiere
Sometimes, with their nieces knickers
Exposing all exposables
You attract what you are
You get what you desire

Do you have a banging body
With seductive shape
All you get is a one night stand
No one wants to marry an empty barrel
Before you open your legs
Please, open your sense
Do you understand?

Before I drop my pen
Please repeat after me
Lord, Jesus, I come to you today
As my personal Lord and saviour
Deliver me from seductive spirit
That I might be made whole
Write my name in the book of life
Thank you for saving me. Amen!
John Dec 2012
Those truly "happy" people?
Are
Actually
Sicker
Than
Depression
Itself
Brandon Barnett Sep 2012
I put another cigarette up to my lips
and hit it with a lit match flame
I take another drag feeling her affections slip
feeling that another day would be just the same

I put the bottle up to my lips
and think of the reasons I shouldn't
I take another pull, a long burning sip
and realize all of the ways love couldn't

be for me what it was for her
with me being confident falsely when I wasn't sure
just looking clean when I was far from pure
holding on tightly when I couldn't always endure

my razor blade taps out another thin white line
with a sharp breath I feel the sting start to numb
I cut out another knowing I'm crossing a line
but it takes the remorse of this that I've become

I take another pill waiting for it's relief
it's bitter taste reminding me of too many nights in a floor
I wonder of my convictions and my true beliefs
so many of the things the filth helps me ignore

I couldn't be for her what she was for me
I couldn't open eyes that didn't want sight to see
I shouldn't have let true love only slightly be
and I shouldn't be surprised at the misery

it is all this sadomasochists sick ride down into the pits of lost pride
but
killing myself slowly doesn't feel so much like suicide
EJ Aghassi Feb 2015
a jester for a messenger
such irony fate practices

and as i numb the mind-
less banter of one i would
rather hate, i'm lost in
vague recollection of you

there's nothing special
about a bar
archers with no sense of
aim, arrows falling short
of the mark, passive
sadomasochists drinking
away some sort of pain

you floated around the room
and you knew my name
after the first time i came
around that place nearly insane

i felt memorable

i will remember you

i'd like to think every
little pill stood testament
to that pain you dealt
with every day
you will not suffer
defeat in solemnly
slow decay

there's things you can
explain away and much
more still that you can't
there is no real answer
& that much is only that

you took the pain you
faced daily with graceful
stride and i can't wrap
my head around the fact

but that is only and only that

the veil is softly thrown over
the guiding light that failed

you've created my song

you deserve your rest
life is peculiar

very peculiar
s u r r e a l Jun 2016
We.
for we fall like moths at the strike of lighting.
and slip to earth for change.
we sit in 10 seconds of silence.
yet we never wish for years of action.

for we cry into the heavens--to God--in disarray,
false water in our glossy eyes.
for with magazines and a host,
atheists are our middle name.

knees soaked in kerosene and eyes used as ashtrays,
we are fire coated in and of itself,
for we burn midst tear-sealed lips,
and expect for the earth to revolve.

for we lay unclad together in bed,
whispering cloy gooeyness into ear canals,
and tie each other up with thorns,
for kink--we say--then you're brain has no mouth.

for we are sadomasochists,
emanating soulful breaths with heads tilted back,
at the thought of a bullet in our marrow,
and chuckle off--chuckle off lots,
at the red we draw from that hidden blade we borrowed.

they know not of what we think,
for we are madman in a cradle,
with large starry eyes, we look for inspiration--intention,
and--when asked for and found--the parents don't see those stars anymore.

for we are heartache,
and bodies with stones in our hand,
for they don't understand,
the power in corpses we seek.

for we are the heretics,
the verses in the Bible no one reads,
for when sought out and seen,
we bathe in the honeyed milk and spoil it.

for we are selfish--even if we beg not,
we are hypocrites--even if we needn't be,
we are labyrinths--even if redirected,
for we are killers and everyone knows,

all we need to do is bury our weakness 'neath the meadows.
Just know that sometimes we are beings who choose not to do anything.
Paul Cassano Sep 2014
Before I start the magic off, can I turn the tragic off?
That's like telling a verb to turn the action off.
I've sworn to secrecy but now I'm kinda bored,
I will expose the truths and exchange my views for knives and swords,
I've tried these ****** more times than a robber tries a door,
I guess they make these sirens for,
alerting others part of task force,
to stop this *******,
from obtaining a bachelors and crashing cars through his neighbors back porch,
when I get a misters just say bye to the Rav 4,
Get a mack truck, show it to a mountain like a crack *****,
and if a sore ever opened up I'd never cover,
I'd let it fester get infected because I love to suffer.
A sadomasochists I sleep on nails for comfort,
I go to hell for summer just to see if ****** made me supper,
you should know I am my fathers sun - watch the horizon,
I could be setting or be rising any time of the day,
It all depends on perspective, but you can make your mind up.
On speed, vibing to me, I'm going to take my time bruhh.
A man that's twice my age shouldn't have this in his mind,
regardless of whats he's seen,
been exposed to or he's dreamed,
I'm a pessimist prime, with speciality in design,
I can create your worse nightmare and inflict suicide,
now you decide you if you really want to listen more,
I don't recommend it... *****.

Epistemologically I am the source,
for hatred, love, peace and wars,
whatever's done is done unto me,
and nothing more,
so severed four tail bones of a geisha,
left no tip for a waiter,
except go back to college,
and bachelor in communications,
and then commune with Satan,
two vacations, write with a plume that's placed in,
the blood of Judas with juice from his noose on your apron,
hold fast to the statement of ******, and fornication,
and when you run out of patience he will show up with a conveyance,
your soul for some placement on #1 radio stations,
so of course you sign, the dotted line, promoting your skills debasements,
those hours spent in the basement,
you coward how can you face him with powers prescribed from Jason,
who killed your father for payment.

Osama your occupation, terrorizing the minds,
of children to young to think of themselves, help keep them blind,
in the dark, as you preach false thoughts to top the charts,
bet if you stabbed you in the chest, you wouldn't feel a heart.
This is a recording of my off the top freestyle.
Babatunde Raimi Sep 2019
Take me back to yesterday
When holiness ******* prosperity
When churches won souls
Not the craze for numbers and money

Take me back to yesterday
When we taught moral instructions
Where teachers were models
Not paedophiles and opportunists
How I so miss yesterday!

Take me back to yesterday
When girls covered up
Knelt to greet Elders
Fetched from the stream
Where *** before marriage was a taboo

Today, celebrities project immoralities
Singers praise corrupt persons
Officers collect bribes
Contracts and admission are for highest bidders
Please take me to yesterday

Take me back to yesterday
When men married women
Women married men
Where we raised respectable boys and girls
Not sadomasochists and sadists

Take me back to yesterday
Where politicians served us
We looked up to them
Today, the table is turned
But from the beginning;
It was not so

Take me back to yesterday
Where we rubbed organic
You call it Coconut oil
I call it "Adi Agbon"
Where we wore "Shuku" in all shades
And adorned in beautiful beads

I miss yesterday
Hence my poetic pen drips
If you miss yesterday
Come ride with me
Let's go back to yesterday
That we may better our tomorrow
Scarlet London Mar 2014
we dine like kings
without eating a thing
when there are those little monsters
that lurk on the back of every package
in the back of my mind
every moment
of every meal
every day
numbers that most people don't concern themselves with
figures that terrify me if they're greater than 300

i am an eighteen year old girl
i might not be a child but i am **** well still growing
i am maturing and i am developing
my brain is not complete yet and i still at times act as i did three years ago
i know that i need a good night's rest
healthy exercise
and enough protein, enough calories,
just enough in general to maintain this gluttonous body's structural integrity

some days i glance into the glass
and see a girl that i wouldn't mind to be
see, i know i'm funny, kind (at least sometimes), knowledgeable, intellectual, cunning, brave, loving
and i know that there are a handful of sadomasochists who love me for that
but i can't help but notice
the imperfections of my skin
the way i wouldn't mind if that boy saw me naked again
if i didn't have so much for him to see
and how i know that i can make myself less
if i lessen my intake

written on my mirror in marker is "fall in love

with yourself"

and it is advice


i'm not sure i can take
Mateuš Conrad Sep 2017
i simply can't believe the irony, well, it's irony in a historiological sense, and yes, if there's an affix of -ology ascribed to history, i.e.: how history tends to repeat itself, then the ironical history, the poetic history is also in place, history is by far, imbued by a chronological rigidity... oops. what does this concern, the lampooning hysteria of: the fall of the west, the fall of the west, the english are coming! sure, the germans are ***** sadomasochists in their own right, collectively, unlike the french singular development... but that's beside the point. you know what i've conjured? a prediction... western civilisation will only be revived, by the fall of the western / wailing wall in jerusalem... odd, this ha-kotel ha-ma'arav, this haa'it al-búraaq: you know what the slavic word for beetroot is? burak (ckq): western civilisation will have to be beaten to a beetroot pulp of ****** scars, and the western wall will, first have to fall, before a 4th temple is built; but this wall will have to fall, before the western world wakes up... it's going to be a painful process, but for the western world to reestablish itself: the jews will have to bid goodbye to their most sacred sanctity, their mecca, only when this happens, with an equilibrated sense of purpose arrive for the current sphere of affairs... not until she(h)-lo(h) beit (שלו בית) is erected, will the west seize its dodo project; i.e. his house; curious, isn't it, how the jews are teasing with this waiting game, then again: it is much much easier to desecrate mecca by the muslims, building profanities around the al-masjid al-haraam (wait, isn't haraam the word used by "allah" to state: forbidden? funny, funny that, ah who cares if it's one extra A); because what stands in the rebuilding of the שלו בית? oh, nothing, just the kippat ha-sela... muslims would sooner part with the mosque in mecca, than the dome of the rock in jerusalem; but first? the western wall must fall.

it's just a cliche to state, but this whole
notion of latin, being dead?
  this nietzschean
   *lateinisch ist tot
-
  looks like god is alive after all...
why? take for example that every
single english t.v. show ends with
the credits of when the show was made,
the year? always given in roman
numerals... every, single, one...
that's for starters... oh, by the way,
what alphabet are we using?
   isn't it latin? my, what a coincidence,
and look! it rained from heaven
to enforce it, since the "barbarian"
north men, der nordenmänner
invoked diacritical enforcement -
   diacritical enforcement -
ya,    nordenmaanner (i can count
you know, it's just two dots above
the a, come on, don't be english
with your: i don't know how to pronounce
a word)...
and in the current year, anno domini
that's 2017 (MMXVII) -
we still see latin revived, up-kept,
nay, i'll go as far as to call it: cherished!
it would seem there's a pattern -
well, what with the egyptian enslavement
of the jews,
     and subsequently the destruction
of jerusalem, and the babylonian
enslavement (by the way,
chant of the hebrew slaves from verdi's
opera nabucco? my my) -
but you notice something?
  the romans didn't enslave the jews,
hence they fermented the most potent
zeitgeist for the hebrews,
    a strong priestly caste -
the hebrews bloomed under the romans,
because? the romans thought
very little of them in their physical
capacity, that role was allocated to
the nubians, and, moreover,
they thought about their intellectual
output even less -
      how could the jews compete with
the grecian intellect in the ancient world?
it couldn't! so they let them be.
sure as **** we can say that
nubians were the slaves in rome -
thus in a precursor to the final culmination,
try conceptualising newton's laws,
or einstein's relativity,
   using roman numerals, alternatively
known by the greeks to be the seven
headed beast from the book of revelation:
I V X L C D M -
  but at the same time, try to grasp
the aesthetic beauty of ancient rome,
the coliseum using modern digits
0 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 - both systems are:
incompatible, or should i say: chiral.
just imagine HOW CONFUSING IT MUST
HAVE BEEN, AT TIMES,
  TO ASK FOR XLIV APPLES
at a market...
         staggering, man's ingenuity -
and this is why i keep all evolution bound
to script, the aristotelian measure of time,
rather than the platonic measure of time
conscripting forms,
   given the similarity of man to ape;
but that is still beside the point -
i wonder about the divine judgement with
respect to the romans and their
relationship with the hebrews, even though
they did destroy the temple
in jerusalem...
           well, i just look at it like this:
perhaps the remains of spoken latin is
"dead" in that it is muddled, but it is muddled
because the script has such a wide
geographic region of it being used -
              it's as if a universal medium was
achieved, for the greatest accomplishment
of the romans, is their script;
but the hell happened to the egyptian hieroglyphs,
or the babylonian cuneiform,
well, what? they became extinct!
           what does this suggest,
that the romans could not be blamed for
any foul play with respect to the hebrews,
the latin script was spared the fate of
the both hieroglyphs or cuneiform -
so much so that it didn't even succumb to
to the nordic runes, as it could have -
could have...
                  and it certainly didn't become
quasi-greek, as cyrillic script emerged.
         ergo?
gott ist nicht tot, seit lateinisch ist leben.
zebra Sep 2021
what happens when
Dark Fetish meets Radiance Sutra

finding it is like looking for a needle
in a haystack of needles
a dog meowing
night park astral planes with erections

a chromosphere with starry swollen labium
a purity purge, then taking it back
a pro life run away embryo
Debbie Dare and Bridgette Beware
with 3rd eyes blinking like traffic lights
trying to become tasty
while turning up their bottoms
for starving breatharians
who can't resist the allures of
Pandora's portable rubber genitals
they bought
at the five and dime tinsel towns  
Queen ***** Emporium

not everyone can walk in the light of truth
some people burn
like country fair corn fed Iowa lesbians
clucking kisses
asleep and awake at the same time

donut bumpers expecting the unexpected
in an unfathomable matrix
at a witches broom barn dance
during partner swap night
among straight couples
who only like rococo

Jekyll & Dad Samadhi
health, wealth & unhappiness
licking, spitting on each other
and having tantric *** the wrong way

you're safe now bwahhahhahaa

codependent sadomasochists
drift infinitely upward like psychotic marble roses
while Queen Opalala  @ ****** University
gets **** buttered and buckarooed
during the downward dog
to the music of the spheres and poems to **** by

a red head
bed head
**** in a cinematic pillow of flames
mouthing her ruby red lips
in a soft voice  
saying
a day without being forced to her knees
and a slap across the mouth
is a day without sunshine
This among other things is connecting the higher with the lower
Feet below the hells and head above the heavens

— The End —