Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
“An ill of greed has befallen the land,”

“A quickening sickness which seeks to prey…”

“Where wealth accumulates and men decay.”
I WANT TO BE VERY CLEAR HERE..I DID NOT WRITE THIS. IT WAS WRITTEN ON A TWO THOUSAND YEAR OLD PIECE OF STONE ON DISPLAY IN JORDAN BELIEVED TO BE PHOENICIAN.

All I did was change the synonyms to make them modern.
My soul has been destroyed,
For which my heart you toyed.
When i was happy you made me sad.
You could never be glad,
to have me the way i am!
In fact - you could not give a ****.
When we suffer in pain,you're not Sorry.

You fill my head with eternal worry!
In fact you make the Human Race,an unbearable disgrace.
Just set me free and leave me be.
To end this ****** misery!

And may you suffer in Hell,
for all your ****** Sins aswell
SøułSurvivør Apr 2017
Blindness haunts the king who seeks
In vain do riches question
- but-
A beggar with a poor man's coat
Receives the greatest wisdom.

We, of sound and sturdy mind
Sniff rich bouquets of vanity
-but-
Fine wine is pressed by she who raves
Her hems stained with insanity.

Old men would have learn'd much
Had they been thus styl'd
-and-
There are no wiser phrases brought

Than those of a child.
The second stanza was inspired
by Mary Winslow and her poem
"Answering Dylan Thomas'
"Love in the Asylum"
Radhika Lusted Sep 2018
Mysterious and unseen
A master of the dark and light
And all in-between
When she looks into your soul
Hers is enough to burn it to the ground
But also ****** it to the very core
She is a force of nature
An unstoppable wave of chaos and purity
that’ll throw you so off course
you’ll forget what it was ever like
to not have her in your life
She will read your mind
with the power to take every last bit
of strength you have
until you regret ever standing in her path
Do not ever lie to her
For she does not handle deceit lightly
Vengeance is her first, middle and last name
And her type of revenge is an evil noone
would wish to encounter
A queen of manipulation at her finest
she will see into your soul
long before you catch a glimpse
and change the way you think
to mend what she craves and the
desire that she seeks

She is a Scorpio,
And if you think you can escape her

You've already lost.
A poem dedicated to my sister who wanted me to write one about her, but is also dedicated to parts of myself and any other scorpios out there that can relate. She is the darker side of the scorpio and i am the lighter, but this poem portrays more of the darker side.
Val Ajdari Nov 2013
Like a child enlightened by heightened curiosity,
So is a native poet by poetic luminosity.
A verse in sight and sound devoid of modern flair,
For poetic convention the poet does not care.
So, take this vague verse as one roaring rhyme,
And take it as verbiage very overdue in time.
Unjustly sunken voices the poet seeks to hear,
Battling a torrent history...above, below, and near.
This inquisitive writer infers a present too dismal,
As around an angry sea lies an origin; abysmal.
Rejecting fables history’s assassins inked true,
The writer seeks fair chroniclers, but wreckage was their due.
Sought is Illyria, a place far from here.
Land said "not to exist," but its roots still reappear;
Fabricated history most poets cannot fathom,
Quelled grandiose splendor serves political stratum.
Calling curious minds to ponder this heck of a theory,
First, consider the writer's roots with impartial query.
What the Illyrian believed in was a life well spent,
Not man-written "guidance" begging cents to repent.
Since Illyria’s rebel ship sailed onto history a fright,
Shakespeare's pen amorously inked the 'Twelfth Night.’
Around Illyria’s outskirts sly mythology prevails.
Modern Illyria’s pervasion of such mythology still fails.
So, how does one interpret Illyria’s butchered will,
As her Godless schism fibbing history faux fills?
Her feeble-minded native is essentially to blame
For their grand, deceptive role in the imperialist’s game.
Brutal eradication of Illyria’s vocal reason
Deem the native conspirator of ultimate treason.
So,  while the State buries the poet's piercing wits,
The treasonous dog barks, upon foreign command he *****.
The dog's filthy betrayal, painted by his foreign master,
Is an art to be repeated in future governing disaster.
In the European south roam these bad hounds of species,
Anatomical sketches of Europe's rear excreting feces.
A pile all imperialists eject with laxative ease,
A pile all imperialists still smear as they please.
Above Illyrian graves (those below made to inspire)
The ***** dog dances, blind to his own fate in fire.
This ****** work of art, not a site for you and eye,
Is an emblematic governance gagging an eerie cry.
As today’s political pawns (in corruption they engage),
Illyria’s distinctive scions remain fools on a stage.
Our bodies dance and sway like silly puppets at play,
Our minds confined to idiocy as the socialist's prey.
So,  a poet's jingle jangle on probing minds they should linger,
As besought are worthy scions who must leave behind a "finger."
Puissant piquant and predatory
And observant from afar
He looks down on your slumber
Like a door that's left ajar

Plying with his manly vice
A reckless male visage
A rogue of masculine device
Seeks entrance to your mind

He saunters with a swagger
A macho savvy moxie
To personify virility's incarnate
His dream zone's metier

He sifts your ****** entourage
In search of sprawls recumbence
To tantalize climactic fervor
With lambent photic scenes

Grasping at your revelries
He spies the wanton lust
With swanky strut appealing
Your primal urge to sate

He leaves undone resistance
With innate resilience seized
The lavish wayward implications
Of unrequited livid deeds

Like passion's lurid lecheries
An insatiable torrid sooth
You wrestle with his adamance
Your  carnal ecstasies revealed

You pounce on his exsertion
You splay your agile form
wriggling like a supple nymph
You accept his blatant storm

You writhe in your abandon
In a euphoric supplication
His machismo ****** enveloping
Your wildest latent needs

With no regrets or reticence
you awaken from this dream
To find yourself alone again
Like it had never been
I of we all create our own incubi and succubi and we should pay attention to their parameters.  Nothing like a philanthropic Incubus.
Andrew Rueter Aug 2017
We're in hell
Can't you tell?
No you can't
You only listen to the teller
All other voices are drowned
Because he's a yeller
For the useless things we're bound
That fill up our cellar
And our living room turns into a dying room
When the seller is the jailer
And salvation comes from tailors
Who can cover up the pain inside
With all the comfy clothes we buy

Money is the blood of our society
It's circulation provides oxygen
But we spill money into spilling blood
And we're funneled into killing love
So we can concern ourselves
With people not getting things they don't deserve
Rather than people getting what they need
Our blood starts clotting
In the fortunate arteries
As the rest of our body goes numb
It seeks medicine for healing
And drugs become our autoimmune disease
Redistributing blood to the suffocated areas
An unfortunate recompensing for injustice
When the persecutors
Become the prosecuted
Lives are exploded
Like Afghan villages
Lives can grow back
Like poppy fields

That's the score
And it makes me want to score
Until ****** drips from every pore
And ******* fills me to the core
I could just live at the liquor store
Where benzos are my father
And **** my mother
So I can ignore the death of my brother
My family is in trouble
Our society is in rubble
Logan Robertson Aug 2018
Stuffed seals.
Sits shelf,
soaking sunshine,
standing sentry,
soliciting smiles.
Shoppers smitten,
strike smiles,
spending silver.
Storied seals,
send shoppers shrilling.
Somewhere,
seamstresses
stitch supplementary shipments,
shaking store,
sustaining sales.
Sales staff splendidly stock shelf.
Seamlessly.
Such salvation, seals seeks.
Successfully, seashells.

Logan Robertson

8/1/2018
Shin Dec 2013
I don't know how to write happy poems
because I don't really believe in them.
I thought angst would die with adolescence,
but alas I can still feel its cold dint.

Perhaps like virginity this goes too;
no longer a creep standing idly by.
Plastic smiles taped to our cardboard faces
and yours alone I felt the need to prise.

That's okay, because the teenaged rosebud
that we claim to be so very unique
is beginning to wither, can't you see?
And now it's the thorns society seeks.

So look out over yonder cityscape.
Your mask shall be shed only by the moon.
Until then, a cartographer of love;
yours that is, we'll still pathetically swoon.
Tea Dec 2013
He is that high, dazed and alive
When you spend hours stealing
Glimpses at the stars
Like keys wrapped around a promise
To free you from these bars
Limitations placed so certainly
On top of you on top of me
I seek my way out
Like a star gazer seeks understanding
I’m planning on playing my hand just right
Putting you next to me
King of hearts at my side
Or maybe you are a joker,
Either way put on your poker face
We have life and space, set no pace
Like untimed steps under
A fall to far

Sing to me a jazzy song
From a time that’s far,
Dance with me
Dance along, move your feet
Make no promise you can’t keep
Just feel it
It’s like freedom but on fire
Like trust without certainty
Acrobat without a wire
Like letting go
A grand release
Like fearlessness
A found voice to speak
Passions pushed blood to cheek
Blushing past shades of pink
Pull you in, close to me
Fearless in you and me
Just fearless
"One lie weakens a thousand truths."

"Time heals, steals and reveals."

"Karma finishes what revenge neglects."

"The future is uncertain, but we play a part in its design."

"Help when you can, pray when you can't."

"If your life is out of focus, it's time to change the lens."

"Honesty is in the alcohol."

"The only thing better than a second chance is never needing one."

"Sometimes the most valuable company is yourself."

"Instincts over impulse, always."

"The greatest comeback is the one least expected."

"Fear is a light sleeper."

"You can't change the past, but it can change you."

"Some are born with a silver spoon, others with a pitchfork."

"Even the smallest of pebbles has its place in the sand."

"The humble voice resonates the loudest."

"Write your failures in pencil, your triumphs in ink."

"Scars speak every language."

"Two things you should always trust: your gut and your God."

"Every tear leaves something behind."

"Courage brings you to the fight, wisdom wins it."

"Relationships start and end, but the lucky ones get to begin again."

"The devil doubts. The angel accepts."

"Biggie makes you dance. Tupac makes you think."

"Justice is money green."

"The only thing better than good friends are lifelong ones."

"I'm in a fight with life and I'm losing on points."

"We are remembered for three things: the times we did good, the times we did bad and the times we did nothing."

"Every underdog wants to be top cat."

"Love never travels alone."

"Dreams reveal what thoughts conceal."

"The problem with the world is the wolves outnumber the sheep."

"You can't spell tragedy without rage."

"Focus on the valley and the hills will disappear."

"When you ignore pain, it ignores you."

"The past and future are distant cousins."

"Hope is always listening."

"Moonlight is for lovers and devils."

"Nothing will get you in better shape than a breakup."

"Time is a tattletale."

"Sometimes all that's left is a penny and a wish."

"There's a special place in heaven for those who suffer on earth."

"We are connected by smiles and tears."

"The mirror mimics what the mind imagines."

"If infidelity was a crime they would have to build more prisons."

"What the blind man sees, the sighted man seeks."

"The ego is a phony friend."

"Luck will take you as far as fate allows."

"Two things that never forget: elephants and broken hearts."

"My train of thought has no conductor."
DivineDao May 2016
While i linger in the shadow~lands

While your love demise denies
         forest's fairies

The unrequited emanence of thou royal
         Presence
          Declines its Self-Exploring
        Radiation

The therapy for life is a poetic hue
Which swims unrelentlessly within
     Any poet who seeks
                  To know
      Love
Pain
Wisdom
        Resolution

Days
   Bringing forth
       The brimming   rays  of  Dawn

White    pure   Gold
blinding my sorrow!

Orange and purple shine,
Murmurs, n' tickle~Tickles
Under my eyelids


*Affecting my day ...
Nelsya Sep 2016
how to manage
this world
from falling apart
when the lands are cracking
and the humans are failing?

how to save
our only chance of living
when the only thing
that they think are worth saving
are themselves?

how to intrigue
those minds
whose corrupted
by the idea of wealthiness
not healthiness?

how to mend
these broken minds?
how to purified
these darkened souls?
how to be
good for this hollow world?

so like shreds of dandelions
we flew up and everywhere
sharing thoughts and hopes
for those who seeks comfort
inside this cold world
Jack Thompson Mar 2015
Have you ever been angry?
So angry you've scared yourself.
Because for a second you saw that face staring back from within.
An immense depth fast approaching.
So absent of light the only reason you caught a glimpse was those eyes.
Beaming back at you with illumination so frightening your core began to shudder and rumble.

Crumbled down and watched this beast claw its way out.
Over rock and mortar. Through coarse cage of steel.
Those cold eyes staring down - helplessly watching.

This beast was once kept sealed.
Who gave it this key to destruction.
This shapeless fluid in motion soulless tragedy.
Black velvet drape dipped in fiery energy.
Pure hate which had been compressed for eternity.
Now concentrated and intent on wreaking havoc.

I sent my armies. I sent them all.
Countless deaths and yet I sent more.
Quick slaughter - not the painless type.
This beast they could not stall.
Thrashes of bodies. Clawed and torn.
Festering flesh flying from fallen.
Axe, Sword and Mace soaked,
dripping in warm fresh blood-pounding hate.
Shatters of armor and unrecognizable corpses.
What do I do?
It seeks me as a vessel - to be worn.
I can feel the hate changing me.
Quickly now or I'll soon deform.
© All Rights Reserved Jack Thompson 2015
Mellow waves Apr 2018
Trust is a golden key to one’s heart
It is so strong yet easily shattered,
It is so pure yet easily blemished,
It is as strong as the howling of the wind,
It is truly, the craving that everyone seeks.
Joanna Jul 31
The river runs in a direct course, moving forward with gentle force. Its sparkling waters feed all that come near.

This river has a mysterious pathway that like a puzzle that is about to unfold. Moving with a determination that holds no fear, this river is full of pure, clear waters.

The eagle soars with a strength that is bold, through storm clouds and more.  While journeying daily to a hidden fountain, this bird of flight seeks refuge in the cleft of the mountain.

And to build its habitat where nothing can obstruct its plan to live freely in a place that is no longer a barren land.
To read more of my writings go to:http://reflectionsoflight7.wixsite.com/home
Spenser Bennett Feb 2016
Wander through the deep
Bark hung thick in mossy greens
Tread so lightly through fallen leaves
Still he cannot find what he seeks
Silent between the eldest trees
Next page