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Mygreatestescape Sep 2018
In the morning when
I have spent myself,
I am serene like
a hurricane,
--(I will call myself
Katrina)
a giant conspiracy
of lovers,
I took a step
without any feet,
the preacher
speaks of god,
of a childhood innocence
that was lost before
it begun,
the stillness of
the soul,
living in the
abyss of
my loneliness,
I cannot believe in
a god that lets
the world rot,
that lets flies die on windowsills,
but yet I believe in
a beloved that
makes me sweep
the ground,
stoop till my back aches,
who looks at me
without any eyes,
and brings tears
to mine,
everything that I ever
loved grows like
flowers
when I see this beloved,
if I know of love
--like a child,
I only know through
my beloved,


and yet,

yet  

    yet


god is a tattered
coat that my grandmother
wears,

to have you listen
to me -- that is my beloved,

spilling my tears onto
ginseng leaves,
dust gathers
like grime,
a second layer of skin,
watching Aphrodite rise
from homes riddled
by lust,

this whole nation cursed,
and yet here is mecca (Medina)
here is Bethlehem
where apples grow freely,
and Eden lies north,
where money rains onto
nudists,

here lives the prowling
sphinx,
here Thebes rises
from the gold dust of
the Sahara ,
her salivating tongue
licks up our dissent,
and our leaders
drags Artemis by
her hair,
the sinners of
earthly lust,
Lucifer wears
armani suits
and defiles cherubs,

they have lit our
children on fire,
and have called
it a sacrifice,
we watched kindness
fall into the deep marrows
of the Styx,

living in a nation
of free will,
undressed free
will and
ravished her against her
will,

my beloved
who wears my anger
like furs,
and milks the world
like a daunting king.
suis-je en train de mourir? - Am I dying?
David R Oct 2018
Veiled in lies, the snake lies waiting,
Venom'd fangs, jaws dilating,
Salivating, watching, baiting,
Sure to pounce, mutilating.

With forked tongue, she paints my heart black,
Drips her poison into my kidneys,
Sinks her talons into my bare back,
Cuts raw innocence to jagged pieces.

My name is silence, my job to suffer,
Make no sound, nor word utter,
Though the dragon spits forth fire,
George shall guard himself from ire.
Mathew P Nangolo Nov 2018
Don't bite it
yeah don't bite it
because it worth
your protection

Dude don't bite it
don't bite that hand
it feeds you, so don't bite it

Oh, you heard feeding
you practically thinking
of food, you salivating

Don't bite it
it feeding you with that
love ,unconditional love

love the way you being fed
so don't bite it
don't bite that hand

Don't bite the hand that
feeds you, don't do that
it gonna stop feeding you
How ridiculous
I have been
Playing on observance
yet; blind to reality
relentlessly searching
for what I seek
not knowing
why
When contentment was
within my grasp

Impetuous , Impatient, Demanding
Aching For Fresh Meat
Stocking, salivating  
Only to want, then

Imagine ,Dream ,Fantazize  
The Sensation  
To Devour  
Flesh

Man
A Supreme Being is Nothing
In the wake of a Woman
Hungry, for more
She
Allows His Touch
Come into my parlor said the spider to the fly
*** in the 80s
Who is hunting who
Elena Jan 21
Salivating tongues
Juggling one tasty rock
A sweet distraction
Mouthpiece Jun 2018
keep secret
the crimson wakes
illicitly
ebbed on your
surfaces
screaming out
against
your steaming sands
when you’re bound
in twitching chains
helpless,
surrendered
drenched in the dead night
blindfolded
and gagged
and choking in
my bare hands
with a wide smile

we can’t speak of
your rattling bones
our scorched friction
and our guttural
undertones
carved into you
with my teeth,
cutting into you
like my embedded fingerprints do,
pulled out
by my mouth,
forced out
by my invasion

we **** like
endangered animals
goners
in our own
private
dimmed corner
dogged and primal
shrouded in
evaporating sweat
and salivating libidos
with which we’ll
paint your room

nobody can ever know
how we cast shadows
on your cave
we take it
bound and crushed
to the grave
love is only ever blind by choice, not by nature. love is blindfolded. anything that doesn't fit perfectly into our own tiny little ideal box is dismissed as worthless. it must end.

will probably end up rewriting this.
zebra Jul 2017
im  
NOT  
sexting you
im  
NOT  
that kind of man
i really never think about such things  
and deplore that behavior in my male counterparts
really its disgusting
i never look at your face
and never think  
what would it be like to kiss you
to kiss your ***
your drooly pert *****
to be your foot slave  
geisha boy
sticky pink
full a joy
boy toy
jolly
lolly
pop
****

im  
NOT
lookin at that teensty
little picture of you
and stinckin thinkin  
mmmmmmm
is her life all ****** up
is she married to dead in the bed
lookin fer love
is she
hornyyyyyyy  
all vanilla  
or  
a ***** *****  
spicy hot *****
who likes it hard
like a delicious hate ****
that's just to  
hot hot hot
for tender love  

no
ow you beautiful steamy creamy thing  
NOT
at  
all
ravenous for
feral porkers at the feeding trough
NOT  
caring that tomorrow you are my bacon
maybe hoping you wanna be bacon
for a raw lascivious wet mouth
and big teeth
all achy starved
slick yap salivating
like a sopping squeezing porous sponge  
to be chewed and digested
no objectification here
hell no
im  
NOT  
sexting you

NOT!!
:O
Pagan Paul Nov 2018
.
The hypotenuse stretched
as far as the eye could see,
across a vast lateral plain
an horizon mathematically perfect.
And yet …
In the main square of the hypotenuse
the town crier bellowed out tidings.
The Triangle Triumvirate was unstable,
the discovery, nay re-discovery,
of the Mystery, the most horrific of Mysteries,
the Mystery of the missing
Fourth-Side.

Dweeb was a box standard barbarian.
Quick to anger, slow of wit.
Like last night at dinner.
He had Three potatoes, his sister had Four.
He shouted and thumped the table,
his angry voice expunging his ire.
Then his sister had explained,
to calm and reassure him.
Three was more than Four
because it had Five letters in it.
And Five is more than Four.
He thought about his axe,
then about his abacus,
and then he ate his spuds.

The Fourth-Side drifted in spacial isolation.
Of course now it wasn't a Side.
Being attached to nothing, it was just a line,
but it had some tricks.
It could coil and curl itself
to form rude words in joined up writing.
It floated on reminiscing,
about the **** angles it had made
with all its previous adjacent lovers.
The memory caused spasms
and it formed into a rude word
that should never ever be written down.

Teena, Dweeb's sister, vomited.
She had kissed a puppy,
and was being sick in the morning,
was she pregnant?
But, it was never a puppy, always a stork.
He mum had told her, warned her
'never kiss an errant stalk'.
Her mum died of the pox, whatever that is.
Something clicked in her head.
Oh! Stork and stalk!
Well they do sound the same,
especially in a harsh barbarian accent.
But the puppy had sneezed
as she had kissed it goodnight.
She thought about her axe.
And then she threw up again.


Equations to be solved #7
Vlad the Impaler was a Barbarian
+
Vlad the Impaler was a Libra
=
Dracula was a Librarian?



Right Angle was worried.
Duly so.
If the Fourth-Side Mystery was solved
he'd have three other Right Angles to deal with,
instead of a sixty and a thirty.
The Triangle Triumvirate would cease.
An intense Quadrilateral Mexican stand-off
would ruffle his perfect two-seventy external.
He had to divert attention away,
far, far away, from the Fourth-Side.
By Jove he had it! Bingo!
Let them try to solve
the Mystery of
The Back-Side.

Dweeb loved winding up his sister.
So he hid her puppy in a box.
But now he was worried.
Was the puppy still alive?
Or dead? Or both?
This may sound like a ****** stupid question
but where did that last thought come from?
Yes!
Yes what?
Yes, it was a ****** stupid question!

Teena though it very strange.
When she rang the dinner Triangle
the cat sat on the mat,
Salivating!
Curiouser and curiouser.
Conditioned response or learnt behaviour?
Teena dismissed the thought line,
she didn't ask ****** stupid questions.

It had no idea
about its status as a Mystery.
The Fourth-Side has issues.
Complicated issues.
It had somehow conspired
to tie itself in a knot.
And spacial isolation had become crowded.
Missing links everywhere, the sofa of time,
excommunicated integers, 1970's wallpaper,
it all floated about in spacial isolation.
Above all Fourth-Side was intensely agitated.
Couldn't anyone quieten that yapping puppy?




© Pagan Paul (06/11/18)
.
My psychedelic washing machine mind on spin cycle!

https://hellopoetry.com/collection/29495/strange-world/
.
Will Oct 2015
You flip, you writhe;
the outline of your body dripping onto me.
And how could I,
spectator and obsessed child,
stop salivating at the sight of your shapeless body?

The lights die into your hips,
your cheek melting in dim slate blue.
Your lips hover above mine.
Your eyes whisper "******" ;
please **** me,
so that I may never see another light again.

And your formless dancing,
a quill that drips in colorless ink.

If I cut you open,
you would bleed oceans into me;
the blood of a god,
water as clear as my love for you.

Your movements hiss,
your shadow tangles.

Please.
Let me touch you.

But your lips curve
and you
prance away from me.
What hides behind your teeth?
What secrets nestle under your tongue?

I've never seen a creature as wild as you.

Your eyes whisper
"******".

**** me,
so that I may never
love
again.
zebra Apr 2017
i'm your o so wanna be lover
I'm afraid not what you would expect though
i admit to being a difficult pleasure
perhaps
a tad strange looking
squishy with long tentacles
half man half octopus
with a winking cycloptic eye

i entreat you
looks can be deceiving
how many pretty boys have you loved
crawling worms for a soul
that have left you a ruined creel
a jagged cry chattering tears of desolation

have you ever asked your self
who adores you
who would give all to protect love and cherish
i'm waving my eight arms at you
from the center of the universe
i eat black holes to kiss your ***
am i not a cosmic horror
with my big Cthulhu smile
quivering with tenderness

do you hunger for butter **** lollypop
i have two big **** heartbreakers
with teardrop curves
a feast for your two ravenous holes of emptiness
and many armed tentacles to hold you tight
to slither all over your tender woven caves
to pull you into me
with suckers that thrill
during swirling inky *****

i will unravel your mind
your soul tilthed
if you can get passed
my
gray rubbery boneless head

i can push this shape-shifting balloon face
through your annul tubular contours
all the way up your beautiful ***
licking
salivating
tickling into your
tender bowel and throat
like a great dancing tongue
a stretched waving goodness
entering your mouth from the back side

can pretty pretty do that?

come slowly unto me my beloved
i am all chromatophores
endless glittering nightlights
incandescent
so we may wander our way through long dim nights ******
in the deep deep dark
with tentacle ***** galore
an infinity of entertainment
for every crevice and desire
and one winking cycloptic eye
that pierces your soul
Yenson Aug 2018
Build me a slow boat to Timbuktu via China
Heave down a fleecy cloud and let me float to Nirvana
Hunt me a unicorn and let me ride to the Enchanted Forest
Find me a giant eagle and let it lift me to Outer Mongolia East

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'


Show me a Church and I'll show you a hall full of Sinners
Point out a wife and I'll reveal a liar and a fake and none dimer
Call a Doctor and its a Monster who betrayed the Hippocratics
That Government Boss is a cruel heinous snake without ethics

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'


See that Preacher and see a spineless hypocrite back-stabber
That lover was nothing but a sick deranged false **** twister
My dear acquaintance a heartless corrupted shyster unhinged
A Newsagent full of pitiless, gloomy, vile, psychotic joy-suckers

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'


That friend of years a bloodsucking Judas who betrayed and stole
Uncles who rained terror with sadistic pleasures in parts unwhole
Show me nieces and find two-faced ******* with poisons in veins
Neighborhoods full of silent killers and Rapists of truthful genes

'please don't me leave here amongst demons with human faces'


A vicars' daughter wielding angst axes better than a viking
The pathetic Moors zombies tearing flesh on masters beholding
The dead-eyed Arabs salivating madly or at daggers drawn
Contemptible Men-kids with pin ****** used as King's pawns

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'


Build me a cottage in rolling green fields with blue skies
Find me a fair maiden with a true heart and warming smiles
Show me a place that holds fairness and justice real and dear
A world with humanity we're all sisters and brothers for care

'please don't leave me here amongst demons with human faces'


[email protected] August2018
zebra Jul 2017
i come to you half mad
with desire
like slithers tongue
i wish
to have painfully stitched
to your silky ****
an act of desires supplication
my *** turned to poison
deprivations effulgent
obsidian flower salivating
your every smile
fleshy bells ringing
warping tintinnabulations
i am a starved incubus
drooling at your knees

behind me
a frothy junket of misdeeds
for loves sake
your feet the scent of lavender and salt
their shape evoking numberless poems
and begging adorations

your belly
a tender cauldron undulating
tummy ***** dancer
sacred *******
temple of worship
the site of your rounded bottom
naked red mouth calling
my sacred liturgy
your *****
velvet tulips for a tremulous kiss

I seed you a thousand times
a raging bludgeon
storming wounded gates Palisades
drenched and florid
fruit and milk ****
until jaws lock
and spire drops
turning me
to midnight cadaver
***** black hollows
a dark eyelid, blink-less
dead **** face down
a slumped snake

then soft dew
and cool ales
clear thickened muds saturation
lighten heat and peel
the warm palate
with agile caress
tender haunches wide and spiced
milk and butter thighs
her hair in mine
rushing river life
again i animate
an embryo id
dressed in fire
all vices and virtues
blood and sky
*** ADULT EXPLICIT
Anecandu Sep 2014
From the Azul sky a diving sparkling speck,
An unmatched beautiful creature without circumspect,
The golden leaves of spring like soldiers on parade,
Dip and make way for this fair winged maid.

I have so much longed to be first bite of this season,
To be touched and blossomed to perfection by your reason,
I grow juicy, soft and ripen as I fall for you.
Tumbling into your soft Cashmere hands on cue.

Salivating, I’m tasty, savour me between your teeth,
Sink deep in without remorse, how delectably indiscrete!
Say my name with a smile it’s so safe in your mouth.
I’m tingling the roof of your brain with my flavours coming out.

Take me away! as we fly, I’m cast about like an enchanted spell,
Moistening your soft syrupy lips of caramel.
I’m drained to sustain the iridescent colours of your gilded wings,
Moved by the high passionate notes as you sing.

Your smooth, probing tongue, my flesh diabetically sweet,
Leaving streaks of sienna nectar on fates smeared cheeks,
Wipe away before staining fabric from our black and white lives.
They keep returning, stubborn like long goodbyes.

Surprise! New emotions enveloping, hypnotic like Night Jasmine,
Mimicking a rainwater spout so bubbly, escaping, and exciting!
Your caught hopeless as a fish fly rod with a glass eyed trout
Choking while love swoops silent from heaven to pluck it out.

That’s when you look at my seed and you can tell.
I’m good for your ego but as bad as a toadstool’s spell.
So I’m placed in the first mound of mud you come across,
Where you replant me sprinkled with fairy dust.
Erik McKee Apr 2018
In that arbitrary sunrise can be seen the fruits of my labor:

A washed out painting of a deranged panic beast,
The ashen limbs of a salivating curse fire, obsessed with trinkets,
An elliptical cycle of recurring memory that plagues me~and it's a Face.  

But for whom was I laboring, if not for the quotient of society?

Is it right to plague me with worries of another's love,
Or to expect me to spike that love across the court of romance,?
Does it give you something to work with, something to remember Me by, or is it enough to break your spirit with my callousness?

I'm sure you'll remember that, because I do, and I'm like stone.

A pair of sea-blue eyes; a swimming pool.

Unnatural facade~
Not a mirage, but still unpalatable
Clean, but unsavory
My humor like chlorine ~ absolute poison.
Keiya Tasire Jun 1
Snakes hiss,
Tightening coils
Around unaware prey.
Wolves in sheep's clothing
The Greedy Hatchet
Fair-haired child, salivating
For promised rewards.

With power tricks, half-truths, & lies
Manipulations. Prowess.
Vile actions quench
A Kingpin's wanton thirst!  

Abandonment, alienation
Slight of Tongue
Creating fear
Controlling degrees of pain.

"Divide and Conquer"
A hallowed twist of reality
Will do nicely!
In the their war
For riches, control, and fame.

You will climb
Over the mountain of broken backs
Do this
You will become
The King of all of the Sheeple.

Deception their swords
Half - Truths & Lies their shields
With calculating, hard cold hearts,
You will be moved out of the way.

You can recognize them easily
For they leave a trail
of broken hearts,
broken promises,
broken families,
broken nations,
stolen lives and pain.

How you ask?
Watch, who does the hatchet man honor?
The kingpin, of course!
  
The innocent looking servant of mankind
Feigning caring
Feigning goodness
Feigning truth with half lies
All the while pulling many strings
Tied with secret oaths.

Yes, behind closed doors they do their bidding.
Is there a way out?
Does this really have to be an endless cycle?
The darkness of life is the pain and suffering that comes from our generational weaknesses which come from the sufferings of our ancestors. That which they were not able to resolve is passed down to the next generations. The suffering also has an external as well as an internal element.
Andrew Nov 2017
Am I attractive, hot, or ****?
Or just a forlorn idiot flexing
In order to join the *** scene?

I put a towel down
And set up a picnic
My head spins round
From the dirt they kick
On my meal
To make me feel
Scared and alone
With nowhere to roam
So I stay here laying in the sun
On the other side of a Gatling gun
I searched for a savior
Who's willing to say words
To me
For free
My search was fruitless
My eyes turned youthless

I grazed in the grass
As time quickly passed
After I finished my food
And was left there to brood
I became a floating satellite
That was accustomed to night
Because of my frights
That reflected all light

Now I see ants trying to feed on my crumbs
They must think I'm pretty desperately dumb
To not know they enforced my segregation
When I had naively sought validation
I waited there silently salivating
They responded by not validating
It's for that bitter reason
During my new season
I reflect my light on the approaching ants
So I may thwart their encroaching dance
My humble heart yearns
As I watch bugs burn

They wouldn't partake in my feast
So I morphed into a brutish beast
Now they're here to eat what's left
If they can survive my dragon's breath
They put out the fire in my heart
But ignited my mind
My useless humanity parts
As I focus on time
A time that keeps passing
While signs keep flashing
As burning bugs dying
Or sad satellites flying

My life was no peaceful picnic
After they noticed my sickness
And left me alone
For that is my home

When I don't need validation anymore
I search for love
Unfortunately I know what's in store
A picnic in the mud
kenny Oct 2018
Nobody mourn,
nobody get hurt

We just project
redirect the blame
and sink back
into interactions
with coping devices
of mass distraction

The artificial womb
of the masses

Tethered by an invisible
umbilical cord
feeding us way
too much
information

Like hungry ghosts
salivating
the next notification

We can’t run.
We can’t hide.
There’s a threat to survive,

But we’re so ******* desensitized

Seduced by the school shooter
we don’t hear him coming
singing siren songs
heart-beating shotgun blasts

That leitmotif
in sync with
The American Horror Story allegory

Just forget it
Too much in the queue
Too many new things

We can’t reject this reality
It’s really ******* broken

Em, I’m sorry we’re descending
Much Madness has lost its meaning

It’s just the means to
unlock an achievement

Emulate another scumbag.
romanticize a villain
amplify the bodycount
Like how many do you need to ***** out
before they give you the cover
of the Rolling Stone?

It's comedically-tragic,
Stranger than satire.

The Judge, the jury
Executioner cutie

cut all your losses for ya
cashed in your lil tax deductions

The most sacred snuffed out
before the light could become them

Get woke a-f,
This is enlightenment!

Come on get
your mind blown!

He’s the one who loves
to shoot his gun
But he knows not what it means
knows not what it means.
Do you know what it means?
https://soundcloud.com/therookielot/ignoreality
Yenson Sep 2018
So what's it they have, what's it all about
Work for the bossman.
Use your brawn Earn your pittance,
Then eat, Pub, drink, **** and pay the bills
Go footie, shout and scream, at one with your tribe
then  go sit in front of the telly, play at family
Week is done
Till the morrow when you do it all again

How about a soap opera, you direct and act
Gotta a Royal down the road ripe for the taking
Lets go invade, see how the other halves lives
Come, lets all join and become Kingmakers
Under our ***** thumbs he goes, we pull the strings
Entertainment for the masses, beats our mundane cages

For once, we are the bosses and can pull the strings
Knowledge is Power and its all here in Mao's Red Book
Lies, fabrication, distortions and misinformation
Disinformation, half-truths, slander it ain't no matter
Everything he says will be taken down and used against him
This is control at our finger tips, this is power to play with
He's going through the Red mill, drilled and ground into dust

Look we've got him as the puppet, we destroy all his trappings
So gather round and join the fun, this is us like God
Lights, action, now you do this and this and watch us play him
what do you mean puppet ain't moving or re-acting
OK let's do this, you go there and you do this and do this now
Still no action, OK let's try this, if you go there and say ah
You drive here, you stand there, you watch here, you stand
Nothing still, OK you come here, you put this here
Still nothing, This puppet is NUMB, this puppetting is no fun

They had drawn up the master plan, written their ****** script
The puppet looked and laughed, what a bunch of prime morons
No substance, no value system, no morality or basic sense
Infantile, one track minded sociopaths full of flaws and manure
Go back to your drinking and ******* and your mundanity
The united pack of crooks, ****, racists and the vacuous coerced

Go look after the Leading Lady stuck with rehearsals and scripts
The imagined romantic interest paying debts for UK residency
Waiting for the Prince to come running and tomfoolery begins
The bit part actors are still playing, too stupid to realize
The control is on them, their time energy and effort all a sham
Our Directors are directing making it up as they go along
The supporting actress are still hopping and hoping
The new characters are still buying false scripts and playing
Playing with themselves as Puppet stands and watches it all

They wheel out their demented scribes and brain dead peoters
To write dirges, glooms, ******* and negativities galore
Casting their dark fantasies and the rancid spittles of their dregs
Muds from the festered pools of their putrid minds dresses up
Ready to visit nightmares of their making from their darknesses
Areas thankfully unknown to a mind and soul untainted, unsoiled
As is their bitter lives, valueless breeding and hate and prejudices One ignorance and neurotic existence, the depravities of depraves..

Poor, poor imbeciles, they really don't have much in their lives
Illusions and delusions by the bucket loads, anything would do
To remove them from their sad, miserable sorry realities
Hey its Clockwork orange, we are all stars in our *****
Diversions to their mundane, unrewarding and depressing realities
Their frustrations and powerlessness, their insignificance
At last a vent for their frustrated lives, miseries loves company
A release valve for pains of centuries being underdogs and serfs
A safe playground for psychos, control and pain in abundance
Let's call it Revolution and add Republic to make it more palatable

Down at the palace of Attrition, a blameless man sits and muses
Crazed dogs of war at the gates, salivating insanely, bloodthirsty
Watching Controllers tieing chains to masses and jerking them
Into frenzied hysteria, nothing beats permitted wickedness shared
Dropping poisons and acids into hungry jaws, patting heads
Shouting rallying calls, we got the Bastille of the blinds going on
Scientists please take notes, this is Herd mentality and Groupthink
This is how to manipulate the masses and incite Hate unawares
Majority wins here, this is Democracy, this is people power

Do, you are ******, don't, you are ******, Hate abides all.
Puppet sees injustices but better to play dumb and numb
They can't abide a black do well, hate spews from fear
Hate festered by the unique decency of a successful blackman
Who had all they wished for but could never have or be
Riddled with lust and envy they merely went on to steal his
But that wasn't enough, the bullies and cowards had to ruin.
Under the pretext of them and us, blue versus Red they lied
Rabid racists takes another black man down, green bottle falls

Man proposes, God disposes, UK, KKK now play god
Thy will will be done O'Lord, I am but your servant
It's rather flattering being The Real Deal in this production
Confirmation of differences betwixt Gifted and the Depraves
A Travesty full of sound, false images and fury by the loonies
A Red Racist Production by Idiots and psychos for fools and sociopaths.

Lights, camera, action
Yawn.......................
"Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."
“Neither a man nor a crowd nor a nation can be trusted to act humanely or to think sanely under the influence of a great fear.” .
Jamison Bell Mar 28
My eyes feasted upon you like dogs
Salivating at the thought you
Honey dipped basked in blue fire
Poured out by the moon
My minds hands shake
You’re a poem that can’t be written
Moving like sunlight
Only I couldn’t follow
My moment in your warmth
Fleeting and coveted
Luiz Aug 2018
I hear it's roar
behind me

my head flips
an auto 180

it’s macabre intentions
reak into my taste buds

I see it
dead on

it returns
the stare

from all eight eyes...

eight sticks for legs, 10 foot tall
3 inch spiked black hair
on all but it's red abdomen

walrus type tusks
sway back and forth
against the concrete floor

sparks fly
with each hit
of the asphalt

salivating my fear
dripping juices
out it’s hole
between two
swaying pillars

battle scar riddled
all over it’s arachnid body

the recorded last cries
of it’s bloodied victims

it awaits the waving of the flag
like a bull against a Matador

the red clot waves
as I RUN!

there is no fighting it

it throws itself at me!
unleashed!

eight legs
perfectly
synchronised
fly low in the air

perfection!
passed from eons
of catching prey

build for the ****
it’s hairy feet tap
the ground
as it catches up
behind me

aimed to swallow me whole!

Running…..
fast….
faster…
from the past

on my heels!

as it spits
an acid laced web
from a raised abdomen

there is no escape

sorrows of submission
turn the nile on my face

the rivers burn against
the cold wind
running turns ludacris
and I’m out of air

I can't....

no oxygen
the web in mid air
parachutes down
to envelope me!

I feel the thumping
of my heart
explode out my veins

I’m ready to submit

then I run past a wall
holding a mirror
on it’s hands!

my eyes catch
my reflection

and I remember who I am!

STOP!!!

dead on my tracks!

the past flies past me
hits the brakes and slides

still now
it turns to face me
four pairs, red with anger
smoke chimneys out
the eight sticks

we are face to face
in a stand-off

I state my intentions!

COME ON YOU ****** *****!
BRING THE PAST ***!

the circling pictures start
I’m ready for battle!

one, two, three!

Running from
the past
she's a ****
bomb blast

flying shrapnel glass
cut in half
dead and flabbergast
dark vast
I'm aghast!

she made
a fast pass
old stupid
fat ***

I need to  
outlast
her wretched
trespass

hold strong
be steadfast

curse on me
she cast

made me this
outcast

love's miscast
no recast
old newscast
I'm missed not!

DECADE GONE
**** HER!

I've amassed pure class...
to destroy that beast
of a ****** up past
I’m unstuck
now an easy task

READ MY
FORECAST *****!

unsurpassed
in contrast
to our past
I put you
on high BLAST!

***!

just grasp the flask
as you turn
ashes toooo dust!

- Luiz D Syphre
© 2018 - M&M Edition
I hear the melody though it skips a beat each time an arrow strikes
A sweet tune your personality plays leaving me to feel so enticed
Sometimes you drain me but it's like my glass never runs out because you know how to refill
It's delicate tank that on average was a desolate wasteland with no will
Think of it as a car with a messed up engine that needs a push to start
Or one of those moments you're losing the race but you receive a golden mushroom in Mario Kart
The feeling you bring chips away at my icebox and melts its inner shell til you can see what it was protecting
The barren but hopeful ***** that destiny and love were always neglecting
I can't picture many days where my face didn't light up just because I got to be with you
I know I see you almost everyday but you're like my Pokémon, I always want to Pik-a-chu
To be honest you remind me of a nice adorable little poodle and I just want to take you home
But since you're a poodle and all dogs go to heaven it means I have an angel in my midst to change my tone
I get all bubbly inside and carefree just being around you on a daily
It's like a sigh of relief, an Hakuna Matata, the only thing that keeps me from going crazy
You're the spice that seasons my character the taste of life I've longed for
The only reason I keep this electricity flowing is because you showed up with an extension cord
Even if I wanted to I couldn't deny the emotions I've been picking up lately
I just hope I'm not the only one that feels this way because you're the most incredible young lady
That I've ever met and honestly if I had to man up and tell you the truth about what I say in my mind
Then I'd tell you I could care less whether I'm called a friend because I always think of you as my future wife in due time
The bond I feel goes deeper than any mere infatuation
It passes a barrier that leads to a deep heart palpitation
There's not a chance that I'd miss if it meant I could capture your essence but from a closer distance
In a heartbeat I'd give up a fortune if it meant I could join your resistance
Because I can't resist you it's like trying to separate Martin Luther King from his dream
Or like trying to rip apart your favorite shirt seem by seem
I know that I can't explain deeply how I truly feel
Simples words can't explain what actions can though I have a hard time trying to reveal
My emotions through my actions because my body can get a bit stiff at times
And once I'm able to each action will amount to more than just some cheap rhymes
You are a beautiful flower, a caring spirit with a delightful attitude
An intelligent individual, a dainty little ole lady who can never be devalued
I can care less what anyone has to say because beauty is in the eye of the beholder and I definitely see more than beauty both inside and out
I see things I can't explain though they drive me toward you, reel me in, have me toss and turning in excitement and salivating from my mouth
And don't worry about the pain you once felt that's a past I will never let you look back on as each day passes
It doesn't matter how you look or who you turn out to be, I love you with both your braces and your glasses ☺️
We can both get cozy, live lavishly and live with this neverending luxuriance
Me and you together, we can explore with each other and make this A Wondrous Experience
#AlwaysChooseRight   #YourHeartIsTheRightPath   #WaitForTheRightOne
#LoveTheGirlYouFallInLoveWith
We adore the hour
Of enduring madness
We are crude and cruel
Like tigers in the morning
We are food for the gods
Who stayed too long
And strayed too far
From their solitary pantheons
We are the shadows of Psyche
Tirelessly shorn from our bodies
We are retired armies
These conglomerates of hatred
Fed up with feminine values
We are salivating angst
We are manic depressive virgins
Coercion is comical
This is evil incarnate
Sardonic solitude shrouds You
In it's vision-less vicissitudes
We are used to being used
And fed ignorance like food
We are bored and longing
For some muscles to flex
So we could attest to our problems
I contest your victory
And seek meaning in expression
Anger is reflexive yet still we beg to differ
Our questions rejected
By an authority we entrusted
To naively negate our egos
We collect puzzles and never solve them
We form alliances with psychedelic buffalo
While meditating butterflies chart
Their ancient transmigration patterns
We are pinnacles of virtue in vitriolic prisons
We administer to the needs of the ordinary soldier
We are shouldering too much responsibility
For if you were entrusted with love
Then please don't abuse it
We are bundles of wood
Woven together like fragile tapestries
We are strategies unused
We are moody lovers confused by each other’s apathy
Our lack of touch erupts into violent volcanoes
Spewing fumes in our bedrooms
We are ****** handed
Balancing on our fingertips
While we are plummeting a thousand feet
To the bottom of endless seas
We are cheap like sheet-rock and shelves
Upended in an earthquake
We are all that we tell each other
We are purely made from stories
Defending our allegorical right to exist
We are so ******* boring
That our own made-up gods
Can do nothing but laugh
At the infinite ignorance of our species
We are a genus of ingenious desperation
Who gave measurement such an important trophy
That we are beyond permanently broken
And can now fatefully begin authentically working
On fixing our sights, minds, hearts
Hands and bodies upon uniting
With our deepest spiritual longing
I gave up stroking my ego a long time before I met you
What’s next will you expect me to beg for your indulgence
We are making amends for the ways
We dissected our reality
It's a tragedy that the objectification of objects
Leads to a such a Complex Elegance:
These isolated sediments are perplexed at our own self-vehemence

What a way to begin
The end of our undoing
Begs for our compassion
We are not allowed to forget
So we go to sleep
And whenever we awake
You immediately take
Our breath away
To protect against
The faintest chance
Or hint of our remembering
B Sonia K Mar 21
Surrounded by darkness
Shadows after shadow
All in stealthy movements
Looking to devour the unknowing,
Cataracts of murky waters unfolding
To cultivate an abysmal knowledge of possession
Laying in wait

Surrounded by shadows
The unknowing gullible prey
Gallivanting in the coolness of the shadows
Traveling on unpaved roads
In company of the unseemly
Glorying in a flowery mask of gloomy interactions
A facade capturing the mind of a dunce

Sounds of laughter in triumph
Emanating from the shadows
A perfectly plan of possession
With full-on persuasion
Fastidious dressing on a palatable decision
Congratulatory claps and smacks
At a job well done
Oblivious of an impending failure
Coated in a ray of light

The sun rays stands at attention
Catapulting its existence
Into the murky waters
Shooting its rays through a pinhole
With boundless powers
Yet seeking a limitless entrance
With the unknowing gullible prey at the door
Holding a key in a game of indecision
Salivating over the promises in the shadows
And the fulfillment of lascivious desires

The sun awaits your attention
Banging at the door gently
With healthy promises
The high heavens can checker
With words spoken larger than life
Saturating every nook and cranny
With light, life and love
And a thundering presence
Annihilating every shadows is its path.

Doors open
A pinhole becoming a tearing limitless ****
The sun rays stretching forth
Inciting a dance with its panther like gait
Over-powering the sniveling shadows
Punctured deceptive walls left behind
Emptying shadows filled up with light
On its face a triumphant grin.

In the shadows
I opened the door to the light of the sun
I was the unknowing gullible prey,
Now, I AM THE SUN.
ómra Oct 2018
Nothing was ever good enough for you. Nothing was ever enough- not for you, O King, sat upon your high throne of gentle-winding metal steps and bent hand-rails:

The only time that you were satisfied is when your words cut into her like knives alongside your fists, flesh giving way to some kind of secret that only you could hear. It drove you mad;

Did you spend the nights as aware of her body heat as I was of yours, salivating and burning with a desire to hear those dark whisperings again? Were all the moments where you appeared as a sheep spent fighting to control the wolf that you were?

Was it good enough for you? Were you satisfied? Were you happy as you sang your songs, telling her that you were sorry, that you would never do it again, that she was your sunshineyouronlysunshineshemadeyouhappywhenskiesweregrayshe-­

Was it ever good enough for you;

No. Not even with your hands wrapped around her throat, broken plates and screams;

It was never good enough for you, my manners were never good enough! Not once did you grant me mercy, not once did you even try to remove those claws you sunk so deep into me.

No matter how many times I said “please,” you never stopped, and the mantra that echoed inside of my head then permeates my very being even now, a single sentence that repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats and repeats and repea-

Never forget your table manners.

Never forget your table manners.

Never forget your table manners.

When he is done, say “thank you,” because if you don’t, he’ll do it all over again.

Always say “sir” and never let your fear show in your eyes, or he will bellow his acrid wine-foul laughter into your face and you will wish that there was somewhere to go but your back is against a wall and his eyes are burning and burning and burning and burning-

“Are you afraid of me?” he will ask, “Why are you acting afraid of me? Do you think I’ll hit you?”

He will answer his own question and it will never be enough,

because he wouldn’t have ever been satisfied unless he took the life right out of everyone in that house.

I wonder if he is satisfied now; now that my life is consumed with his burning eyes in my sleep and his voice in my head and his breath in my mouth, even when he is so far away now, still he is here:

Is he satisifed now? Is this enough?”
there is nothing left of me, but still he continues to take
DIYA May 10
(1)                 Peter Holcusker was not a sinner          
                    tanned and dried like a prune
                    eyes wandering, glinting the petty change in his pocket
                    cobblestone bruised knees and half-eaten bagels
                    denim overalls, probably stolen
                    the land was impolite
                    it's inhabitants no less
                    "who could love a *****", they hushed
                    aren't they the children of filth and ****
                    they steal and they stare
                    the grumbling of their belly is it not an excuse enough


(2)                 I've heard he lives in a barn
                    near lake Marshdon
                    he keeps to himself
                    a sly and sneaky little chap, he is  
                    he is no guileless soul
                    we all know his truth
                    he needn't say much
                    Peter Holcusker is the worst of us
                    vices know him well
                    he hides the devil in his trenchcoat pocket


(3)               now you ask
                   why has Peter not spoken up for himself?
                   gossip and tattle envelop him
                   yet he like all of us has fallen prey to it
                   why don't we forget
                   all our past- doings  
                   like the town-people have forgotten his goodness
                   everything Peter did with them
                   they have labeled him, caged him in a flurry of words
                   they cut his tongue and spoke for him
                   oh Peter, how did it come to this!


(4)                I saw him begging on Downbury lane
                   his beret was from Harrods
                   who in their right mind would  give money or pity
                   to a prince-like pauper
                   Mrs. Zeta  saw him in the pharmacy
                   "He must have stolen all those medicines", she hollered
                   "Disease  is an apt punishment  for people like these
                    these villains must live in constant  misery
                   ; that's all these slimy miscreants  deserve "
                  

(5)               The goldsmith and carpenter, radical believers
                    of the notion of heaven and hell
                    look at Peter as if he is already living in the fiery pits of
                    shame
                   but they do not pray for him, looking all polished in
                    their Sunday suits
                   the army of hypocrites walking in unison to  church
                   singing baseless hymns in great fervor
                   they leave religion an all its virtues in the bible at the
                   pew
                   then gossip away to glory eating pudding  after service
                   mostly about the widowed or Holcusker


(6)            all the gossip-mongers huddle
                their spiteful remarks like invisible daggers aimed at their
                 latest victim
                their words pierced  poor Holcusker's ear
                 echoes of opinions and beliefs
                hound his mind, for who knows how long
                oh look, God, at Peter drowning in a sea of helplessness
                how often he sits, whiskey in hand
                looking for ways to sway his mind
                away from his unsaid murderers
                


(7)            "Peter, are you as bad as they claim
                tell me you're not the anti-christ, they say you are"
                he does not wish to say who he is, or not
                but he knows for a fact that 5 years ago
                he was just like these hearsayers
               looking down on the so-called plebeians  
               salivating at stories about them and gulping them just the
               same
               circumstances and karma are powerful beings in this
                universe
               He regrets ever saying anything, for the postion, he is now
               in


(8)           Holcusker was a farmer, living happily with his
                sweetheart
                he had three precious cherubs, whom he cherished deeply
                he too went to church every Sunday
               with Mrs. Zeta, the goldsmith, and carpenter
               eating chocolate truffle after service, mocking the poor
               widowed Carrie,
               now a harlot, trying to make a living for her children
               his words were sharp and ruthless
              and now he is at a loss for them
              the great misfortune took everything away from him
              "Oh, Peter tell me what did you do so ?"



(9)           tears stained his eyes, he wept and wept and wept
                he cursed the past and its unruly effect on the future
                "oh dear, o dear  I did what I had to
                I did what I thought was right in the heat of the moment
                but I can assure my heart guided my unlawful actions
                even the psychic could not predict my dreary winter  
               the opinions I kept ever so freely, were now aimed at me
               I was the runt of the town, the fool, the disgrace
               now stories and rumors are synonymous with my name
               yet no one has come up to me to ask me the reality of the
                situation
               why would they I don't blame them
               for, I wouldn't have done it either "



(10)         now Peter Holcusker lives alone
                he carries the burden of his past mistakes with him
                he is  prey to mockery and stares
                the source of all gossip and rumors  
                but I ask you, witness to the story
                Is is right, in all its entirety
                to reduce the dynamic **** - sapien
                subject to change and circumstances
                to a mere static picture of that one thing
                he once did,?
                I leave it to you the same species to answer this lingering
                 question
                are villains always villains?
                who's to say who did what?
                and can we for once break free from the atmosphere of
                suffocating hearsay
               and see things for ourselves
                I ask this humbly, the rest my dear is up to you
Wellspring Oct 2018
The feeling of relief when the pain finally ends.
The sounds of rain pattering on the metal roof.
The smell of dry earth mixing and mingling with the water.
The soft touch of petals against your fingers.
The taste of warm chocolate cake the melts on your salivating tongue.

Music
Food
Rain
Beauty
Stimulation from other people.

These are the things that live thrives on.
eh. I'm in a mood.

— The End —