"swich" poems
Zombies they approach
to bad we can't be friends
This was my last thought
As I load my gun
This will be a blood bath
And I may never survive
I am the last, destined to die by hand I used to curest
I see her in the mob
Slowly approaching
Why rush I was doomed
I know it and so did they
I faught for 7 years
And this is my end
I am the last to see thair loved ones
I wounder how they will live with out me
I guess the same if I was the one that was victorious
**** this I yell"
as the zombies began to in case me
I was never the one who seeked the crowed
All wayse the loner
Dreaming for this day
Not hoping just knowing it will come to pass
My end will be beautiful
I cocked my gun
Knowing I wount need it but just liked the ilosen of my finally
Being of a gun fight,
We planed this
Me and the once people who surround me
All hopping it will never come
But non believed it was unnesary
They was in place
The shells all in place
I slipped the wire under my feat
And even though I could not see the liquid I know
It hit its home
Zombies cried in rage
Canines thrusted into the air
Trying to cut the air
And I laughted
****** was my favorite was my favorite wepen
I glanced above my head to see the net
Filed with liquid hell
It amused me that all the years I threaten to rain
Hell on my enimeyes
I get to do it
I hit the swich in my poket
I herd the flames hit the net
It will take 2 minutes for the flames
To meet the c4
But the zombies had a different plan
They rushed me
And all I did was take two steps backwards
And the mine wint of without a hitch
I lust a leg but that was enught distraction
C4 inighted and turned the night alive
I had made my last day of life
Hell
And I smile
The end is now
I closed my eyes
And waited
For my firy demise
To welcome me
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 6:22 PM UTC
SO PRIKETH HEM NATURE IN HIR CORAGES
Never did
help my Da enough.
Always
head-stuck-in-a-book.
"Donall son..."he call
"Can you hold this while
...I saw.!"
"Awwww Da!"
I'd wail.
Me lost in Chaucer
and his tale.
And so the saw saws
but all I see is..."Yo!"
"The Miller was a chap of sixteen stone,
A great stout fellow big in brawn and bone.
The saw cuts through the afternoon.
Pauses: then....chaw chaw
Chaucers on again.
"He did well out of them, for he could go
And win the ram at any wrestling show."
"Say what...?
Oh, don't get me
wrong I
adored the aesthetic beauty of
sawdust floating
in a universe of its own
suspended in sunlight and shadow.
The smell of pine
kidnapping my mind.
The green dance of the bubble
in a spirit level.
Didn't have time for all that
hammering and sawing.
I was a boy on a mission
ever since our teacher sighing
"Oh I...don't know why I
teach you scruff Chaucer
...you'll never read the book!"
But by the weekend
( furious at the rebuff )
I( ha ha)HAD!
My poor auld Da
only getting begrudging help.
"Whan that Aprille..."
( the words falling like gentle rain upon my mind )
"...with his shoures soote
the droghte of Marche..."
(Words words oh sweet words. . .)
"hath perced to the roote"
(My mind. . .)
"...bathed every veyne in swich licour,"
(the bubble in the spirit level
poised perfectly...perfectly poised)
"Of which vertu engendred is the flour."
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
SO PRIKETH HEM NATURE IN HIR CORAGES
Never did
help my Da enough.
Always
head-stuck-in-a-book.
"Donall son..."he call
"Can you hold this while
...I saw.!"
"Awwww Da!"
I'd wail.
Me lost in Chaucer
and his tale.
And so the saw saws
but all I see is..."Yo!"
"The Miller was a chap of sixteen stone,
A great stout fellow big in brawn and bone.
The saw cuts through the afternoon.
Pauses: then....
Chaucers on again.
"He did well out of them, for he could go
And win the ram at any wrestling show."
"Say what...?
Oh, don't get me
wrong I
adored the aesthetic beauty of
sawdust floating
in a universe of its own
suspended in sunlight and shadow..
The smell of pine
kidnapping my mind.
The green dance of the bubble
in a spirit level.
Didn't have time for all that
hammering and sawing.
I was a boy on a mission
ever since our teacher sighing
"Oh I...don't know why I
teach you scruff Chaucer
...you'll never read the book!"
But by the weekend
( furious at the rebuff )
I( ha ha)HAD!
My poor auld Da
only getting begrudging help.
"Whan that Aprille..."
( the words falling like gentle rain upon my mind )
"...with his shoures soote
the droghte of Marche..."
Words words oh sweet words.
"hath perced to the roote"
My mind
( "...bathed every veyne in swich licour, )
the bubble in the spirit level
poised perfectly...perfectly poised
"Of which vertu engendred is the flour."
Aug 26, 2019
Aug 26, 2019 at 3:53 PM UTC
Atte laste, lordynges feeble to avarice and swich cursednesse,
I would like to admit that I sacrificed the gang of the thirteen witches of emotions to baphomet,
I be clear your criticism gave birth to my theriomorphism,
Inshallah fail quench my hunger I be but a Tiger,
Laying in the same bed along side insomnia,
What form of religious madness is this?
Get on your knees, let me teach you theomania!
"Our father, our lord: who art in heaven leave us forsaken because our ***** are shaking to the devil's songs"
How hard is it to confess your own wrongs?
"repaint yourselves like chameleons"
God says "no matter where you hide, I will see you and I will **** you,
Because you have reached boundaries I can no longer tolerate!
Stop muttering prayers! But instead vociferate!
Alle and some, I am misunderstood for being evil
But this cardiacal imprinted in the walls of my heart a vernicle,
But I remain an oracle smoking tobacco in a tortoise shell,
Well, I honestly think the spiritual fathers should practice what they preach,
Because if I were to take off their vizards, you would surely all see some wizards,
But I won't reveal them because the cycle gets insidious,
Aghast!
Who know that I could be theriomorphous and treacherous?
So may I prosper behind the pulpit as I vormit the communion,
Meditating to goetic demons while preaching a morning sermon,
What form of monstrosity is this?
Excuse me priest but you mimic the devil and not Jesus Crist,
Heard rumour have spread around town
That "Alan's not an Angel" is a warlock
Well definitely!
I am certainly Con Fuoco!
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC