"stake" poems
The mother is first—
she is for all and down to earth.
She, the mother Fathima,
descended from uncharted Heaven—
that pivotal frontier
only the Prophet of all prophets has seen.
Then, there was no Adam, nor Eve, nor even Jibreel.
Every star across the seven skies
wishes to kiss that golden dust.
Not to mention the Moon at the center,
waning and waxing—openly and secretly—
unleashing its longing to rub
this non-sublunary piece against its forehead.
She knows—only then
the rough seas beneath her will calm,
bathed in the soft raining moonlight,
rubbing off upon a lucky, blossomed forehead.
Oh, if only—
scarcely could they ever see it!
The galaxies, since their inceptions,
have longed for it.
The bliss of the eyes—tucked away from the scene.
Paradise lies beneath the mother’s feet!
It finds its core, its resonant lore,
in the shadow of the original feminine—Fathima.
There, the original matter explored;
Paradise breathed beneath her—
but she touched down at the heart of the Earth
without stepping or touching on Paradise,
only to give her stake away to others.
No land she would take on her way back, indeed.
Not in her name.
Do you know where Fathima’s grave is?
Dec 28, 2017
Dec 28, 2017 at 4:01 PM UTC
You do not do, you do not do
Any more, black shoe
In which I have lived like a foot
For thirty years, poor and white,
Barely daring to breathe or Achoo.
Daddy, I have had to **** you.
You died before I had time ----
Marble-heavy, a bag full of God,
Ghastly statue with one gray toe
Big as a Frisco seal
And a head in the freakish Atlantic
Where it pours bean green over blue
In the waters off the beautiful Nauset.
I used to pray to recover you.
Ach, du.
In the German tongue, in the Polish town
Scraped flat by the roller
Of wars, wars, wars.
But the name of the town is common.
My ****** friend
Says there are a dozen or two.
So I never could tell where you
Put your foot, your root,
I never could talk to you.
The tongue stuck in my jaw.
It stuck in a barb wire snare.
Ich, ich, ich, ich,
I could hardly speak.
I thought every German was you.
And the language obscene
An engine, an engine,
Chuffing me off like a Jew.
A Jew to Dachau, Auschwitz, Belsen.
I began to talk like a Jew.
I think I may well be a Jew.
The snows of the Tyrol, the clear beer of Vienna
Are not very pure or true.
With my gypsy ancestress and my weird luck
And my Taroc pack and my Taroc pack
I may be a bit of a Jew.
I have always been scared of you,
With your Luftwaffe, your gobbledygoo.
And your neat mustache
And your Aryan eye, bright blue.
Panzer-man, panzer-man, O You ----
Not God but a ********
So black no sky could squeak through.
Every woman adores a Fascist,
The boot in the face, the brute
Brute heart of a brute like you.
You stand at the blackboard, daddy,
In the picture I have of you,
A cleft in your chin instead of your foot
But no less a devil for that, no not
Any less the black man who
Bit my pretty red heart in two.
I was ten when they buried you.
At twenty I tried to die
And get back, back, back to you.
I thought even the bones would do.
But they pulled me out of the sack,
And they stuck me together with glue.
And then I knew what to do.
I made a model of you,
A man in black with a Meinkampf look
And a love of the rack and the *****
And I said I do, I do.
So daddy, I'm finally through.
The black telephone's off at the root,
The voices just can't worm through.
If I've killed one man, I've killed two ----
The vampire who said he was you
And drank my blood for a year,
Seven years, if you want to know.
Daddy, you can lie back now.
There's a stake in your fat black heart
And the villagersnever liked you.
They are dancing and stamping on you.
They always knew it was you.
Daddy, daddy, you ******* I'm through.
29.7k
Trying my best
To progress
There is only do
Or do not
Yoda thought
So most of the time
We fought
I’ve got anger
Issues
Many birthdays
I’ve wished you
In all my hearts pain
I miss you
You’re not quite
Who I knew
We used to
Chill with brew
Remember the time
We flew?
We argued then too
Across the country
And it’s all we could do
Here I go again
Trying to scrape this
**** off my shoe
My heat is turning
For flight I’m yearning
The sun is hot
My wings are burning
I’ve got warrior feet
At the road ahead
I’ll be turning
Run or fly
I’ll chase the sky
Metaphorically
Astrophysically
My physical being
seems to limit me
This fool in my bed won’t
Give me matrimony
If this was Salem
I’d burn at the stake
No matter what era
You take pride
In the hearts you break
The years you take
The lies you make
The least you can do
Is own your ****
2 woman gone mad
there’s a pattern here
You’ve got to admit
Wait where did the charm go
Where’s that wit?
Even Letty said
She couldn’t trust your *** for ****
Apparently you ****** her sister
And ****** some old lady’s ****
Even when he’s got it made
Angel turned demon throws his shade
Should you call you the devil
From hell you came
I’ve stooped to your level
And only I’m to blame
Jun 28, 2018
Jun 28, 2018 at 1:54 PM UTC
Hey lets start this thing and gain a little mnemonic
Cuz the teachers always explaining things so dull and robotic
But you got it, just trust this rhyme and I promise you'll have it
Let me teach you the equation for the function quadratic
It goes A, X and a 2 up high
Add that to a B multiplied with a Y
Put a plus sign and add the third term, the C
And set all that equal to a 0 bee
It's that easy, with that you can plot the graph
That will show you where the ball went and its flightpath
See the value of X shows where the line hits the axis
To illustrate where the ball was caught and where it was passed
It's cuts of cake to find this data with a formula rap
So keep in mind these fresh rhymes to the beat of the clap
You set X on the left, follow with an equal sign
Put the next little sect about a dividing line
And that little piece starts with a negative b
Add and subtract square root of B high 2 minus 4AC
Then divide what you get by 2 times A
If you forget this part man, your whole answers at stake
But if you follow my rules, and do all of this rap's math
I guarantee the next reports gonna say that you passed
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 3:42 AM UTC
In the morning, old becomes new
Birds sing as black slowly turns blue
In the morning, my fears are taken
My faith is stronger, I am not shaken
My fears are taken by morning's rebirth
Fresh as the dew clinging to my feet
In the morning, there is a new me to meet
Whom the blinding night has deemed fit to birth
In the morning, my flaws are still the same
Like the yellow sun, everyday like flame
In the morning, I remember yesterday's mistakes
And I know better what is at stake
In the morning, I let go of the night
I let go of the dark, I embrace the light
In the morning, my eyes are brighter
My dance is better, my laugh is lighter
My smile is warmer, my kiss is softer
My hug is tighter, my speech has no stutter
In the morning, I am all I want to be
Awake, refreshed, hopeful, free
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 8:12 PM UTC
In some sense is our identity at stake?
Is friendship a relationship of knowledge, self knowledge, or has it to do with the imaginary, meaning in some sense who we are is imaginary, and we just construct ourselves through other people..? are we knowing the other, or producing ourselves in that relation through our continuous phases of knowing ? 'Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly.' Maybe friendship is an imaginative task that has to then meet reality in some way- as a child hallucinates first what they might be, we have to own who we are first, own ourselves, and then meet reality so we can land somewhere- so that it becomes real, in order to own it, so that we can take part in life.
FRIENDSHIP – fragility of friendship
Is any friendship real?
What is real friendship?
Sincerity, genuine concern, legit interest
–
Friendship is
everything and fleeting at the same time
Jan 17, 2021
Jan 17, 2021 at 10:46 AM UTC
"We can't afford to be wrong on this issue."
~ Francis Chan
With holy anguish hearts are crying
through feeble language urgently trying
to summon the sleeping now to wake
for souls' eternities are at stake
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 8:24 AM UTC
Totally useless
Infinite universe
Exploding before us
I am one
I am holy
I am yours
The one and only
Forever and glowing
So steady in stirring
The moving of your heart
Melting your spirit
Confusing what is real
Abusing all you feel
Lie to their faces
Sigh no more
Sink the places
That you have since forgotten
This is a place that I
Will not forget
The holy sighs and cries
During your pitiful lies
All because you set aside
The energy at rest
Hello there
Welcome back
Get this drink
Of A’s exile elixir
Go off to a distant land
Find a distant face
Nothing can be said
I did you wrong
You ****** me over
This is goodbye
......|……|XXXXXXX
Undress
Unleash the emptiness
I’m so glad that I brought this
This beautiful red safe
The keeper of
My ****** up mental state
About my mental state…
Don’t ask me about my holy stake
That I pierced into the heart
Of a special white vampire
One of those holier than thou types
One **** up
And then
Onto the next line
The next word that you speak
Might be a mistake
What do you think?
About me…
Do you think that you could
Stand on your own two feet?
With me,
Without me.
Alone like we are
I’ll crash the car
To flip our worlds around
Venture away today
Go away
Come as you were
Another day
But not today
You might be okay
I’m not okay…
Holy one
Grant me a kiss of happiness
You know I need it
I need her
Whoever she is
Wherever I am
Someway, somehow
I’ll find the day
To rewind the times
That I forgot about
Last night, this morning
Last year, good mourning
Thank you that this is over with. . .
Oh, sweet angel
Lie to me
Allow my words
To feed the hungry minds
of those that don’t listen
and only want my body.
What about what’s left of my spirit
Dragging down below
Sing to those that need
Lie to those that see nothing
Around no quarter
The moon found you
I found you
The numbers did add up
Just a little too soon
All too soon
I found you
I lost you
I’ll find you again
Forget about the end.
Aug 22, 2012
Aug 22, 2012 at 8:55 PM UTC
Befrilled Godfather, why tune Yours to mine
These Rightful Verses your Country observes
I, an Eastern Bun's Lord in Mind consign
Put my Pun in-place for their own Reserves
Now this, a Muse if your Clock does witness
Would burn me at stake or hang me condemned
All because such Organs defy Fitness
And thought the ****** I will reprehend
I grow tired of this evident Trough
Whilst you once scribbled Trademarks with your Quill
How, my Heart-Nosed Configure such enough
Yet wish to join you in your White Pipes, still.
Your Epitaph stays; I dare not complete
Just press these Roses your Approval, meet.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
It's like a diamond stake pushed through the silence of my brain
It's like a thunder of voices coming down like a hurricane
It's like a forest of gunfire blowing past my bedroom door
It's like the force of a god pushing down on my floor
Whip smart, by all accounts, but lost beneath the sheets
Forced out of a comfort zone and pushed out to the streets
Spastic changing voices like a record out of line
Just speak like you always do and don't **** with my mind
I'm like a tidal wave that only gets halfway there
No shore to erode with no Taiwan to even care
I'm like a promise left on the kitchen table after dawn
Someone will find it but it will be thrown out on the lawn
Born without a spoon but there is silver in my teeth
I'm made out of as much spirit as a plastic, clearance wreath
Dust beneath the stars cancels out the dawning sun
Shine on the bums, the prophets, everyone
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 3:38 PM UTC
When it rains here once again
I remember the time we clenched hands that monsoon.
And we trailed down that railway track on a cloudy noon
We weren't alone did you know?
In a place unknown to fog and snow
The weather had lost its temper
The train had been blinded enough to lose track.
Who doesn't know it's all a knack!
Derailed, they say.
Before the next I wish they simply care
These are not mere accidents you bare,
But testimonies you claim on a paid fare.
Indian Railways or any other for that matter I say,
When they pass the word 'happy journey'
We simply wish it's not our last.
When it rains once again here,
I remember the time we clenched hands that monsoon.
And I wailed down the railway track on that tragic day,
I do not understand which side to stake.
Or wish for summer once again in my life
Or curse the rails, frames and journeys that shatter.
Shatter! Solely due to human hands that fell short,
short to value the lives that derail.
May 6, 2017
May 6, 2017 at 2:07 PM UTC
*Very often the lies of lust seems more authentic
Credibility of the truth of Love is at stake*
Jul 17, 2014
Jul 17, 2014 at 2:40 AM UTC
Netted on the outside
Dreams pass through the inside.
The good dreams seep the center,
The bad dreams are caught: DO NOT ENTER!
The sleeper with eyes shut,
Protected by the dreamcatcher
And selected by the buy-snatcher,
Slumbers in peace
When all is at ease
Around the dreamcatcher police.
Reality is still
But the mind is awake
And sleep is at stake.
Eyes cannot detect
What the dreamcatcher does,
It only sways in the midst of a glance.
But the dreams that pass the glass dividing atmospheric gas
Cannot be seen, touched, heard.
Dreamcatchers have a radar
That no being does.
The dreams charge at once!
WOOOOSH.
Not a dream is heard
Caught in the dreamcatcher grid,
But the good ones
Keep clean the REM zones.
Native-American tradition
I will surely petition.
May 30, 2018
May 30, 2018 at 10:06 PM UTC
I've been trying to change,
And it makes me cringe,
I have a vision that isn't too insane,
I see two paths,
Separated by the choices I make,
Begging me to make the right choices for my futures sake,
It's warning me that a lot is at stake,
Calling me to wake up,
From the slumber,
I've stumbled in.
Jul 31, 2014
Jul 31, 2014 at 8:32 AM UTC
My sweetheart you are so stunning and seductive
With a lovely attitude, to come and get me please
Your progressive style makes you more reflective
Embrace me come in my warm arms don not tease
Sky is under your feet and you have taken me over
Wind is playfully caressing your cheeks, curly hair
Your eye brows are archer this is what your armor
What a tasteful youth what a wonderful spicy flair
My love,life is at stake my love is now on the altar
Your graces can save me from the clutches of world
My life is like a ship without any rudder and harbor
In front of universal love your beauty is just curled
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Sep 26, 2016
Sep 26, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
In the darkness of constricting depression
I begged the Lord to give me joy even if it killed me,
and He promised me it most assuredly would,
for this is joy’s mantra:
“Death to self!”
It is simply not possible to know the deepest kind of joy
until we have experienced the anguish of death to self
with a cruel stake of affliction though our hearts.
For it is there on the altar of sacrifice
when we have finally surrendered what is most dear to us,
when we have willingly brought our costliest gifts
to lay humbly at the feet of the King,
that we are raised up to know firsthand His resurrection joy
through the fellowship of sharing in His sufferings.
No one who has ever truly learned that
“to live is Christ and to die is gain”
has ever escaped this path.
Find me even one.
There is nothing quite like rejection to teach us about God’s love,
nothing quite like loss to teach us of His joy,
nothing like storms to teach peace,
nothing like ruined plans to teach patience,
nothing like loneliness to teach kindness,
nothing like failure to teach us of His goodness,
nothing like betrayal to teach faithfulness,
nothing like being completely misunderstood to teach gentleness
and nothing like humiliation to teach us self-control.
Why is this?
Because there is nothing like pain to chase us to Jesus
and to teach us to rely so helplessly on His Spirit’s filling.
And when we have His filling, we will know His fruit.
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 7:36 PM UTC
Excuse me, sir, your pants are on fire.
Yes, i am talking to you, sir.
This is quite a mess you have made,
you starry-eyed dreamer.
Not that it was perfect in the beginning.
Nothing is.
When my grandfather got old,
he made sure to dress well.
If he was to die on any
given day, he intended to
do it in his Sunday best.
My grandfather died in a
unisex hospital gown.
When i was growing up,
Mom always made sure
i wore clean underwear.
It would be shameful
to die in ***** ones.
Speaking of growing up,
i was raised on Reaganomics.
It doesn't matter which side of
the aisle you stand on these days,
because Reagan defeated communism
through the clever use of money.
When my grandmother was set to pass,
she faced the changing seasons with
poise and dignity. She was
ready to move on, to reunite with
loved ones lost.
My grandmother died in a
unisex hospital gown.
My best friend, Peter, didn't
put much stock in appearances.
He was funny and sarcastic.
We all loved him like a
brother. Peter's mom buried
him in brand new Ecko
gear. He died in boxer
shorts on the floor of a
ramshackle apartment
blue in the face from a
****** overdose.
Thank god none of these
people will ever need healthcare.
Mr. President, sir, i am no
Republican.
i am an American.
You do remember us, don't you?
How silly of me...of course you don't.
You were busy watching your legacy.
i would have watched it better, if
it had been my name
at risk.
My name is all i have.
When Bill Clinton was president,
he lied about getting a
*******
But we forgave him.
It was just a *******
It's not like it was our
privacy or healthcare at stake.
Or our economy.
Have you dreamed about any
of those things, sir?
Or just your legacy?
Who knows?
How well do we ever know anyone?
Christmas is right around
the corner, and i and
others have made you
a fine gift, a lovely suit.
It's invisible.
You probably won't notice.
No matter...
one day you will have to
remove your flaming pants.
To try on your new suit.
Or, god forbid, to put on a
unisex hospital gown.
And then you will finally
see your legacy.
Nov 6, 2013
Nov 6, 2013 at 7:01 PM UTC
Earthquake Poem
3/5/2014
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
Sure, there are the shakes and scares,
Seismic shifts accompanied by tectonic tears.
But ditch this global perspective,
Figure out what rips those ripples, detective.
Let’s see you pound at the ground.
Hit it hard, ‘til you hear a heavy sound.
Is that enough to fissure some asphalt?
Tell me, could you bring this spinning planet to a sudden halt?
I can’t say for sure, what an Earth-quake does.
Though I’ve been a victim,
Earth isn’t where my quake was.
An Earth-less earthquake,
On a planet whose name I’ve learned to forsake.
Wynn’s world wandered ‘round someone else’s orbit:
Drawn to its gravity like grapes grow on a vine;
Brightened by its solar system’s shining smile, so divine;
Emotional tides tugged in and out;
Guided by its mysterious moon’s midnight meandering about.
That’s right – an orbit with its own time flow.
Time that could stomp its heels and steal a spotlight,
Time that could manipulate a moment like jello, mayonnaise, or some other squishy substance,
Time that could crash course, while standing still,
Time that could reveal something you never knew.
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
A quake could be anything that makes you shake.
Think of quaking in fear, as an unknown figure draws near.
Think of a jittery heart, that’s been bit by a bullet.
Internal tears,
think of organs bleeding,
Think of needing,
solid ground,
but falling and time keeps stalling.
When a quiet little quiver promises to deliver,
its slight shock signal straight through the middle.
When a molten magma core fizzes its manic madness,
like a shaken soda.
When an epic eruption carries out its upward excelsior,
Rejecting the spinning without a stop.
Oh, the mountains will tumble,
The hills and valleys, they’ll crumble,
And gurgle in the raging rivers’ rumble,
As volcanoes churn out violent bubbles,
Stirring up all kinds of troubles,
For one person’s personal planet.
For one person’s personal planet,
These violent forces of nature can’t compare to an Earth-quake,
When the ground you stand on begins to break,
When you realize your senseless stability is fake.
When that little quake knocks your Earth awake,
It’s reality coming alive to take, and take, and take,
Because for love, you put everything at stake.
What do you suppose an earthquake does?
I’ll tell you – it leaves a wrecked world with a cracked core and scorched surroundings.
Just because.
Just because, love on Earth always comes with a quiet little quake.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 1:44 AM UTC
Julie had never been one to partake in
Girly things, dollies and frills
Julie was one of those tomboy like girls
Who looked out for adventurous thrills
She loved riding bikes, down the hill at high speed
Screaming loud with her hands in the air
But Julie could not play in organized sports
Her mum said the cash wasn't there
She sat on the sidelines and watched all the games
To not play the game was a sin
But Julie Macado would spend her whole life
On the outside of things looking in.
She knew all the players on all of the teams
She wanted so badly to play
But Julie Macado would learn pretty fast
She was one of the have-nots that day
In gym she was better than all of the guys
She sank every shot that she tried
But organized sports was just out of her league
She was still sitting on the outside
Her friends that she played with said
"Go see the coach", maybe he'll let you join up
When she told her poor mother that that's what's she'd do
Her mother told her to shut up
"I've done my best girl, to give you a life"
"And charity...I'll never take"
"If you're gonna play then you'll pay your own way
"For you learn more when somethings at stake"
So Julie went out, hustled, working part time
Doing all that she could to make bucks
But, when she had enough money to finally join in
The season was done...and that *****
Even though she had shown she could be on the team
She was finished and did not begin
Poor Julie Macodo was still not on the team
She was still outside looking in
She worked all that summer making money galore
She'd be ready to sign up that fall
She had enough money to pay for herself
She was going to play basketball
Her mum lost her job in early July
The plant that she worked at had closed
Now she too was outside looking in at the others
They would move...that was what she supposed
Again Julie Macado would miss out again
All of her money she gave to her mom
She would be an outsider for all of her life
Never playing a game...'cept for fun
Even though she was better than all in her school
She would never be in looking out
Until that one day, when a man from Kentucky
Had come up to Freeling to scout
He'd heard of this girl, who could shoot from the floor
She had skills that he had seldom seen
He signed her on up to a four year free ride
It was all like a really good dream
He told her of how, he had gotten a letter
About a young girl ..that was her
It was written in crayon and a little bid blurry
And it stated out with a Dear Ser,
the spelling was bad, but he read it completely
It told of how Julie could play
But she had not school record, no history so
He set out to see the girl play
He contacted the school and he asked them for game films
They said she played only in gym
So he set out directly to see for himself
The decision would be up to him
Now, Julie Macado has realized her dream
Her life is all set to begin
She did it herself, with a note from her Mother
She was no longer out looking in.
May 5, 2012
May 5, 2012 at 6:20 PM UTC
I’ve died
I’ve felt the brunt of dis-ease like a disease
The final straw that has broken my heart
Drove a stake through instead
Why now?
The leftover time I’ve been allowed
Is filled with hollowed out emptiness
The screams of pain when there is no one to answer me
Bursts my life at the seams
I have died
I’m gone for sure this time
I cannot even fill the time I have in between
Because I am numb
Dead inside
Without that genuine human touch with no hurtful motive
I’ve gone and died
Withered blossoms of socialization should have fought hard
Hardly fought instead
The weak politeness crept out
I have died
With no thought for the future
I’ve cut my past off to live in the blankness of the present
Don’t fret
I never really lived anyway.
cc111911
Nov 22, 2011
Nov 22, 2011 at 11:57 PM UTC
In the New Forest my Base had discovered
The Rites of Pannage those Back-Breakers do
Sows and their Cousins their Instinct recovered
Took a Year's Break from Storage and Stew
Which Proud Members chose Estovers on-edge
Then for Dessert from their Month's Turbary
A Better Concern than Motors bred at-stake,
A chance for their King to pay his Duty
So, my Conqueror, tell me that Ballad
Or must I force that Verderer to Sing
With Acorns, Truffles and all Nuts at-hand
Till he spits out the Seed which bore my Ring.
Tell you what. This Porker you just provide
I'll relish its Pudding and wear its Hide.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
Eleven years old.
Skin stuck to her bones.
Can’t afford to get a cold.
Can’t even stand on her own.
Fan spinning fast but
still drowns in her sweat.
Can never stay awake.
She sleeps with all at stake.
As these red soldiers
mount our chests,
Let us pray for those
whose tomorrow may be worse than today.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
Stuck to the wall
with a pirate cringe, positivity illegal as sin
good vibes that almost hurt
like a wife-beater's undershirt
Tough to clean, hard to keep
even when the ground is getting steep
going up
They say it doesn't slam, gives you chance
it lays the land ahead
But I find the blue skies like to turn scarlet
and slip faithless from my wake
It's all me, all me
driving a stake through every chance I get
At regaining decorum--
which is hard to keep, tough to clean
after a massacre, a true disaster
The lawful bickers
of a girl curling in disgust because...
Because positivity feels counter-productive
Not to mention a little too...
Seductive.
These words are brought to you by a petty fit,
not a frolick, nor even
a moment of in-betweenness--
A damned-darling particulate fire
going up
I'm a lost soul, fingers cold
Stuck to the wall and let out a pirate cringe--
why don't you--
satisfy me with positivity legal as sin
Give me those good vibes, make them hurt
like a lover's wife's lacy undershirt
Nice and clean, hard to keep
especially when you're in. Too. Deep.
But you're only going up.
From. Here.
Mar 9, 2015
Mar 9, 2015 at 10:27 PM UTC
we are monsters
from the boutique to the
embroidered throw pillows the
pen dashed around the neck
stage 5 bone cut
sawing ossification to the
hollow core
we are monsters
hooting in tunnels lined
with bats coming out to feast
creation
to scrape the streets
shimmy the walls
bust the coffin and
succckk
we are monsters
who can't enter under the
doorframe
fearful of being burned by
the sun silver stake
rat poison holy water sickle
and windmill ash
we are monsters
sewed stapled dead meat
skin hair plugs ceramic
teeth tested and tasted by
rats
we are monsters
jumping high over white
fences frenzied explosion
running through corn
angrily bled in a field shot and
hunted like embarrassing
waterfowl in the jaws of
mammalia
we are monsters
of flaming brilliance flashing
in your inbox
read us and gnaw
braised
roasted
grilled limbs
watch
as we watch you
be scared and
stab
I promise we don't die.
Oct 1, 2015
Oct 1, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
*See the show is over, behind the red curtain you can't see me cutting up my fingers using my blood and tears to pick up what's left of my heart. We're done, been done…we were over before we could start. Some ***** you are....some ***** filthy, manipulative, sneaky, overbearing, cold hearted, insensitive, ***** of a ***** you are. Some ***** you are….some charming, loveable, selfless, funny, intelligent, creative, artistic, handsome, good **** slangin'……perfect man you are. Prince Charming, you used your sword, on the one you for swore, that you'd love me till and beyond the day that I'm dead. Unfortunate mistakings……burn me at the stake, but first it's off with my head. Charming and flirtatious, so easy to fall in love……but it's being so charming and flirtatious that's got me trying on OJ's gloves. I'm the witch and you're the townspeople secretly fascinated but you'll never say. I'm still in love with you, let's just swallow our pride and give each other's the time of day. I'm still your weakness, you believe I'm that gullible and I don't know at all……because I stuck my pin through your Voodoo corpse right in the heart, and then you gave me a call. I heard the sorrow in your voice and I know you sensed my tears, with the so unslick cracks in my voice and sniffles flooding your ears. I'm yours, and you're mine, last time I said it was the last time……but you're the love of my life and even if we're not together that'll last a lifetime.*
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 7:13 PM UTC