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Poetic Artiste Aug 2014
Lustfully creating chemistry in the bedroom,
Day dreams to wet dreams,
May I play out my sinful thoughts on you?

Your body—my favorite leisure.
Cravings unbearable,
The flavor of your lips forever engraved in my memory.

Will the next be better than the first?
Again a chance to savor your sweetness,
—To hear your moans escape.

Your body against my body, rhythmically our hips gyrates.
Desire for your passion—longing for your embrace.
The ******* of my neck—bites I cannot take.

Excitement, I cringe at the presence of you.
Fingers tactically stroking—smear my wetness.
Low gasps when you penetrate.

****** after ******, now allow me to stimulate.
Exposing all of my weaknesses,
I want you—intimately; the best way.
K Balachandran Oct 2013
And suddenly he finds this--
the season of strange happenings
befall upon him.In Bangkok rains lashed
for three consecutive days without stop.
Huge pythons with strange markings
undulated over waves, that were roads
three days before.A stranger to the town
he feared the fury of river Chao Phraya
but this girl took care of him well,
and when rain paused slightly
she suggested they should eat out.

He left it to her choice, though never knew
much about her, say he was careless.
In that dim-lit restaurant, she said
most unexpected things happen certain days,
and what she said was really true.
She ate  his past wholly, so quick
when no one noticed, it was truly smart an operation.
It tastes exactly like Thai cuisine she told him, as if pleased,
full of aromatic leaves of herbs.

He  just sat like a zombie, would he understand
the meaning of that sabotage, ever?
As she whispered her words in his ears,
he wanted to contradict, tell her about
coconut milk, pepper and condiments
in which his memories of past were marinated,
like his mom's incredible curries
of fish from Kerala coast.
She pretended she didn't hear
all his  memories of spice coast,
she had tactically usurped.
Then a doubt creeped in to his mind
"Is she a banshee, after me?"
She persuaded him to take a stroll
along the bank of Chao Phraya in spate

None would believe him later
his eye witness account of the girl
who ate all his spice land past
jumped in to Chao Phraya turning in to a big fish
and disappeared, never to reappear.
Kerala-The state at the south-west sea board of India, the original spice country, home of black pepper.
Ayeshah Feb 2010
Can you feel the resonance throbbing gently through this subtle discourse?
I constantly  find your lustful innuendo to be an incredibly pleasurable experience. Like your a magical lyricist.., Your words urge  to create masterful *******'s through laced pages with in me you bring out the artistic'ness hidden deep with in me.  
Rhymes and rhythmic vibrations build up until finally they gush forth with musical symbols, A stream of  lyrics resounds in & out of  my orchestra,
While we attempt to concentrate on our next  feature.
You have me unable to distinguish the next verse for our repetition's, Artfully your lyrics coincide with my own causing phrases to be come literate and a **** good read, Flowing melodies,
While you impregnate my text with all your, your lyrical kiss&naughtiness.;
Filling up my syllable's,Reconstructing my vocabulary.
Our rhyme is  basic element that defines the couplet, LOL Coupling as  we do.
Our consistent element is the repetition of form,
As in me and you forming as one Not in-difference to you ,
Just with small changes,
in your  technique
As we face off while playing out these scene,
Your persistence of  our sonnet reverberates like multicultural dance,
I'm competitive while feeling in awe of you. Your sweet tunes ripple down my spine,
while our word play
brings havoc to my mind. Like a chant or a sweet harmonies.
Causing mental eruption's. Conversing about to end,
tactically you evoke emotional & sensual response, But I'm
keeping up with your lyrical  flow. Rhyme for rhyme,
as each adjective courses through me, in and out while you become a
cunning linguist
master!, I'm about to overflow as you
Cause me to rhythmically fall victim to
insightful
Poems!
Always Me Ayeshah
Copyright © Ayeshah K.C.L.N 1977-Present YEAR(s)
All right reserved
RILEY May 2013
Sophisticated creations created in sophistication
Humbly stumble your rocket ship upon us
Show us the ways of wisdom
The gears to greatness
Greetings from above…

Indescribably intuitive taking part of our tuition
Relaxing everybody with your percentages
Because everybody loves your mathematical mysteries mingling with minds mistaking us monitoring the minutes of our total misguidance
You guide us through that too…
Tactically tyrannical, democratically demonizing our demands
Demanding our demons
Because without the demons dictating our lusts as districts for us to be in
You are but a simple voice
Maybe so inhumanly loud and annoying
But incompetent
Powerless…that freaks you out…
Notorious nuzzles nurturing our children
Not so new of an idea
Because were used to getting
Tips of our rights smuggled through the windows you chose to open
Then smile and wave from up there
Because being like us is too mainstream
Becoming like us is an impossibility possible only when you become wood
Stiff wood
Moving around on shoulders
Standing in line on
The borders
Of dirt and human form
Following your followers with flowers on top of you facilitating your families fascinations that yes, youre gonna be alright down under
Flashback to the fudemental moments of your life
And you’ll realize
It’s when you killed the father
Suffocated the mother
Ripped the brother apart
And told the son…hey let me help you
But this is when you die…
If we all **** you in our minds youre dead
And only then…would “up there” be nothing but a shameful figure
Rather than a worshiped emblem of total *******
And only then…would we gain life…
The Calm Sep 2018
aware of my depravity
pressed down by the gravity
kept down by the havoc it spills actually
it's sweet like a cavity
it'll confront you callously,
it'll tactically relieve you of your faculties

aware of my depravity
seeing how it got to me, seeing how it held hold of me
No plan of letting go of me, feeding me feelings of apathy
my demons parade me, pageantry , steal from me, give me fantasy
somebody send the cavalry, somebody take this pain from me
somebody save myself from me, give me back my captaincy.
fa5vO Sep 2012
Obiter Dictum,
swollen backlash in pursuit of a belt,
momma I swear I'll never sag my pants again.

Victim of a victor system I refuse to be a victim,
I'm on the guess list of an addict refusing treatment,
allow me to use a well spoken perspective,

Death, inspire your deadliest of boom foreal weapons,
a new clear-er suggestion,
seek and destroy tested,
a radiant child radiating at his best but at best still they detest,
chop and ***** your loose or luke troop,
holy war is clocked at 12 past noon,
O biter christian,
oh lord forgive you,
seventy seven times seven,
this clearly says not for human consumption or misuse,
a door with no hinge,
a room without a view,
introducing bedlam,
hell is just a match made in heaven,
how many more words do I have to use to prove to you bloated youth,
tactically destroy any skyscraper presented over you, fa5v_O, for the truth.
Onoma Dec 2023
silvery claw marks

on a sixth-plate daguerreotype,

in a foresting chamber study.

a grandfather clock holding its

hands up to its pendulating face--

after an oil lamp is trimmed.

as that daguerreotype's, daguerreotype  

is torn to the size of letters, cannibalized

by The Word/the word/words...

made fleshless, a handwriting

analysis

examined by tactically glowing

horns.
*Inspired by Dada/Surrealist, Man Ray's: L' Enigma d' Isidore Ducasse, 1920.
Which was inspired by Isidore Ducasse/Comte de Lautremont's simile: 'Beautiful as the accidental encounter, on a dissecting table, of a sewing machine and an umbrella.'
The poet is not a writer,
though she uses words,
the difference lies in the sentiment,
when he writes a book,
he writes it in order to educate and entertain,
when she writes poetry,
there is a fleck of the unseen,
there is a dream-like quality to the poem,
chaotic rhythm trying to make sense of the madness,
a maddening landscape as surreal and cerebral as Eloheim,
and still the poet persists,
but it is for this reason that understanding breaks down,
and while the poem is often misunderstood,
still she writes for others,
fighting desperately for a cure,
a cancer that all things dendritic cannot touch,
a wound that runs unabated through culture and the human imagination alike,
she writes poetry for future generations,
for her children to read,
leaving the fire lit aflame in the hearts of the next generation,
but each generation fewer and fewer take up the charge,
fighting the good fight is obsolete,
and so it is for the few to tacitly and tactically,
with a tactile touch,
fix the accumulation of those who came before.

I am not a poet,
I do not write for the greater good,
I write for myself,
for the well-being of the being in my head,
for the scrapping in the derelict corners of my mind,
grey matter splattered on false sentiments,
lies and truths mingled betwixt cortex and stem,
a tree burgeoning upward,
and so I do not write for you,
but for myself,
for I am no poet,
lost in rasping of my own words,
in tranquility I fester,
for I owe you nothing,
and from beneath that pretense,
I hang.

I would say that the death of the poet,
is the death of language,
though art fell victim long ago,
and so I find solace in its falling leaves.
A.P. Beckstead (2014)
Matt May 2015
In Pakistan
The CIA has bombed bombs funerals in Pakistan
I heard in this interview

Yes this nation sometimes kills the innocent
But that is nothing new

The Pakistani government cooperates
With the drone strikes

The UN investigation is being stalled by our government

This high ranking U.S. official said,
"We are the only country that thinks
We can use drones wherever we want,
Outside of a hot battlefield."

U.S. citizens are told the strikes are lawful
Our courts are being blocked from
Weighing in on the issue

They have had hardly any impact on the Taliban

According to the state department
Al Qaeda is 10 times stronger in Yemen today
Than when the drone program was started

According to the expert
Tactically they can be successful
Strategically we too often don't know what
We are doing with them

Often the operators
Are traumatized by what they experience
3 or 4 year stints with no down time
The operators were internalizing their experiences
i was swimming
its more like flailing really
just trying to stay afloat
to return to shore
to move toward
a place where i could be sure-footed
or at least MORE sure footed
flapping my arms like this
hell
i would have settled for quicksand

thats when i realized how blue the waves were
how clear
the medium that housed
the vibrantly colored guppies
the sunset that illuminated them
palpabale and tactically enticing
clouds that you could
both consume and caress
how warm the water
how cool the breeze

then a relaxed posture
a calm breast stroke
to the nearest outcropping
and after i approached
scaled it to its pinnacle
bare feet and hands
****** now for good reason
but here i stand
atop lush grass
drip drying
with a view towards
the place where i floundered

ill stay up top
here with the magnificent view
you take the "hi" road
and ill take the high road
as long as we meet here
at the overlook
as long as we hold hands
gaze towards to waves
time the tide
encounter enchantment

we can swim later
i know this one freshwater pool....
kaylene- mary Jan 2015
He spoke in a rough gruff of a voice, trying to hide his disintegrating stability. His neck was moist, appearing to have lost the capability.
"Rosy, my dear, what do you find so grotesque about love?"

"It's not love, it's what love does to you,"
She responded without hesitation. Evidently hiding her deprivation.

He sank into his ribcage, tactically turning air into mist.
"Then tell me, what is love?"
He latched on unwillingly to the idea that their thoughts could coexist.

She shut her eyes in dismissal and bit her lower lip, clenched her jaw real tight
"To tell you the truth Vincent, I don't quite know. I've tried desperately to understand it, with all my might. But I know that it isn't love if you don't collapse into the palms of another like an unstable building when they touch you."

"Be weary my dear, your humanity is showing."
He said with a slight gust of laughter. As if his sarcasm is bestowing.

"Remember that day in July, when a butterfly landed on your hand? And you picked it up and pinned its wings? You do that with everything, you know.
And truly, it stings."
The words lunged from her throat like a long awaited confessional, done by a man sought out by death. Because the concept of peace is obsessional.

"You know that I'd never keep you from flying. I'd never make you choose a cool winds breeze over a life spent in my cage. I wouldn't stand to hear the tortures of your crying."
He swallowed a hard lump down his chest.
"You showed me where to look amongst the gardens and the graves. You pointed out the masters and you pointed out the slaves."

She slid out of her identity into something more comfortable.
**"You must understand, my dear, you are beautiful but you do not mean a thing to me. Love can never be interminable."
Devon Baker Apr 2013
We put bad people in boxes
with bad people
so multiple wrongs will make a right,
we trust our security with faces
that have to prepare a conference to tactically decide how to answer a personal question,
we smile and say good morning cause we can be bought,
we all want someone,
we all want to be left alone,
we want the lights to stay on even when we’ve voted for poverty,
we want perfection while we belittle the astounding,
we’re wearing masks cause it’s easier to be hateful and indifferent than show compassion,
while we keep begging for someone to love us,

“someone please,
I’m so alone,
please just some love…really you like that band?
that idea,
that belief?
you’re *******,
you’re weak and mentally below me as a human being,
god you actually care what I think?
you’re so pathetic,
cause I don’t care about anything you have to say,
you actually want to help me with my problems?
just because I complain every second of everyday doesn’t mean I give a **** about you caring, that’s weak.”


we have always been ******,
we have always been stung,
we have always been dumb,
and you’ll learn nothing cause no one does,
keep building bridges made of match sticks into that black hole mirror
i’m just here for the fireworks
Kyle Fisher Sep 2015
Masterfully present in mind and spirit.
The days roll forward on a tactically drawn out chasm of
misguided thoughts, and uncharted feelings.

Misplaced emotions drive a long
continuous bludgeoning of my inner sanctioned light.
Its as if ones own being is held hostage by its clever attempt
to be whole again.

Too many edges to uncover,
a minefield of chopped sections of life,
waiting to be stepped upon; all driven towards one
harmonious ending, the need for love.
An outside influence to catch an unstoppable force
from self destruction.

I tread carefully, each step forward signaling
a bitter remediation of myself, crafted so that only
a significant soul can unearth that which one has
held blanketed for ages... eons.

Another wanderer is needed for the part with this man.
Walk wisely,
you may be his end.
©Kyle Fisher
Nely Feb 2018
It doesn't burn my throat fast enough. It doesn't rebel against the other acids in the pit of my stomach. It doesn't make me want to clench my jaw and inhale profoundly. It leaves me alleviated. Leaves me in a trance. It's quite strange. Your absence affects me more than your presence. I'm always looking for answers that don't require to be answered. Yet here I am. With a triple distilled bottle of Tequila in one hand, and a flimsy phone in the other. I know you're not the type to ask who made me like this, but rather ridicule me for my abusive behavior. For the tactics and niche I picked up making me yet, so defensive . I'm unlearning it due to inheritance. I know you're not the type to care what traumas you tend to trigger, but I am the type to figure out what wounds are still fresh and what scars still remains. But who's to say I can differentiate, using it tactically or using it sadistically. I'm so attracted to what's so broken, and it hurts to look in the mirror because I reflect such brokenness. I leave my hand and foot prints on your sand and run away like I never moaned or whispered the sweetest lies.
Wrote to myself awhile ago: They're going to ridicule you, for how you love. I like that about me, I no longer hide anything.
Arcassin B Mar 2020
BY Arcassin B.

Spoken words are beyond my calibur,
but I , can occur in different places,
placing my mind in others and thrusting my
anger forward tactically finding out that
emotions can be stored below my tough exterior,
as long you don't hit hard below the waste,
and further ******* anguish or demise,
its not you , your ignorance is what I despise,
I turn light into dark in my despair when I
fall apart,
entitled to my own failures looking back at my life like
who was I compared to if its not you?
I will make my mark in this pointless corrupted country,
running in and out of the spirit realm,
seeing my true purposes and letting myself grow.


©abpoetry2020
https://arcassin.blogspot.com/2020/03/moonchild-1.html
The uniVerse Feb 2016
The Behemoth of my brain
remains
to this day never slain
a constant drain
on my mental faculties
my mind is full of insecurities
my speech slurred with inaccuracies
but tactically I meander through the minefield
my wit my only weapon
without shield or protection
for the beast that lies dormant
waiting to escape
the cage of my subconscious
so I remain cautious
exhausted
from the constant battle
the haunting rattle of chains
that reverberate through my brain
like an oncoming train
but my feet are fixed to the tracks
no time to relax
gotta face facts
it's me or the beast
now released
let the fear begin
which starts within
a tiny seed that grows
with every thought or deed
its only chance to succeed
just you and me
a fight to the death
you steal my heart and my breath
what have I left?
one thought to survive
the reflex dive
as I submerge in water
I just caught yer
before you could commit your crime
I guess....
at least till next time.
Originally Written:
10/01/2014
Kay P Nov 2015
I trusted you.

It's not much, three words
not love or endless faith proclimations
nothing more than a smile and a fond glance, maybe
it's not like we've known each other all that long

but it adds up, you know?
Simple math, add the hours to the days
and those conversations we had late at night
and get the solution:
a night where I felt like I could pour out my soul
Not much, not much,
but enough

Then shock, betrayal
I added it wrong, carried a one that wasn't there
and somehow expected more of you
My mistake, tactically stupid, I know
Who goes to war with an ally they hadn't tried in battle
with no written record of a truce?
Rookie mistake.

I won't be so foolish again
November 1st, 2015
Zywa Feb 2023
You should not do it

secretly: but unnoticed --


just tactically.
"Het Bureau - Het A.P. Beerta-Instituut" ("The Office - The A.P. Beerta-Institute", 1998, Han Voskuil), page 655

Collection "Not too bad [1974-1989]"
Got Guanxi Dec 2015
Poetry and artistic expression,
make me feel so vulnerable.
The pseudonyms hide my blushes.
from a juxtaposed complexion pale,

Set sail in to the blank page.
Making waves on those contoured lines.
the island of design is on the horizon,
yet it changes state each time we arrive.

i’m not surprised,
bashful,
tactically sound.
the waters are calm,
but i’m anxious,
until my feet feel solid ground.
hide away
marc rios Nov 2018
Follow me!
come
to
my world
That is
******>not full
of
followers
i wrote
stuff
with
my feelings
and honest opinions
but i need
people
nor
crowd
for
me to
deliver my
appellations
actually
tactically
phsically
socially
and
verbal­ly
are somehow
maybe
confusing
you
mentally
but
dont
really
mind
what
i say
because
i am
only writing
this to
maybe
somehow
get some
attentions
XD
Tony Sep 2016
A nation, besieged by an enemy force,
was encircled and close to defeat.
The leader of the beleaguered army
wanted to capitulate, hoping for leniency
from the tactically superior general,
who'd beaten him at every turn.

A young, ambitious officer,
looking to stand out from his rivals,
came up with a plan to eliminate
the unbeatable general.
A soldier would surrender to the invaders,
spreading a rumour,
so impressed by the talented general,
the citizenry would **** their monarch
proclaiming him their new leader.

The canard was told to everyone
the captive had contact with.
The soldiers argued,
was the prisoner lying or telling the truth.
It didn't matter anymore,
the seed of sedition was planted.
Other military leaders,
envious of the general's success,
quickly relayed the possible betrayal
to their ruler.

The belligerent king, fearful his sovereignty
might be under threat,
recalled the effective general
under the guise of an update.
On the generals return,
the king had him executed for treason.

In the ensuing uncertainty,
the defenders regrouped,
launching a counter-attack.
The new general, chosen by the king,
less competent than the last,
lost all the territory,
won by the former military leader.
The defending army, now on the offensive,
outmanoeuvred the invading force,
driving the enemy from their dominion.
Rumours can be useful!
Big Virge Nov 2020
It’s CLEAR That...
... Government Tactics...
Are Now Causing DAMAGE... !!!

To Employment And Lives...
That Are Now COLLAPSING... !!!

Due To Tactics UNWISE...
That Are Now Causing PANIC... !!!

Because They’ve Downsized...
What Was Once Known As LIFE...
Through Tactics Ill Advised...
Due To CORONA’s RISE... !!!

But Could It Be SCARE TACTICS... ?
That Are Being Employed...
To Make Heads PARANOID... !!!

For A BIGGER Agenda...
Where What They Will Render...

Is A World of CONTROLS...
As New Tech Unfolds...
To Create A New Mould...
Where Humans Get Told...

Where It Is They Can Go...
And... WHEN To Do So... !!!

A Tactic That’s BOLD... !!!
Where Freedom Is Sold...
To... Corporate Folds...
And Those Who Uphold...

Lockdowns And Tech Goals...

That Embrace...
... Track And Trace...
And Corona War Games... !!!

Where New Tech Takes The Place...
of Us Being... HUMANE... ?!?

These Tactics... DISMAY...
When They LOCK AWAY Brains...

In Ways That RESTRAIN...
And Causes World PAIN...

Due To Low Rates of PAY...
And Jobs... TAKEN AWAY... !!!

Because of These Tactics...
That Clearly Are LACKING... !!!

A Way To DEFEAT...
This Corona Disease... !!!
WITHOUT Tactically Needing...
To Create... VACCINES... !!!

That... INEVITABLY...
May Be Used FORCIBLY... !?!

For People To FREELY...
Travel And Walk Streets... !?!

Well Their Tactics To Me...
Are Those That Now WREAK...
of Something UNGODLY...
That People DON’T Need... !!!

But Their Tactics Are Working...
When People Are YEARNING...
To... Once Again Be...

Earning MONEY...
To Feed … VANITY...
And NONSENSICAL GREED...
ABOVE Staying HEALTHY... !!!

A Tactic That’s Worked...
To Make A Human Breed...
Who CAN’T Even See...
That These New Policies...

Are Those That Will STEAL...
Their Right To Be... FREE...

Freedoms RESTRICTED...
By Tactics HARD HITTING...
That Aren’t Finger Licking... !!!

But What Is Their Mission...
New Age CONSTRICTION... ?!?

Where Heads Are CONDITIONED...
To... IMBALANCED Living... !!!

These Tactics Invoke...
A World of NO HOPE...
For Lots of POOR Folks...
As Well As The OLD...

And This Is NO JOKE... !!!

These Tactics Are COLD...
And May Dig Some Deep Holes... !!!
Where Folks DON’T Want To Go... !!!

I HOPE That Down The Road...
People DO NOT FORGO... !!!

A Level of... THINKING...
Where MASSIVE Resistance...
Is Something That’s Shown...

To These People In POWER...
Whose Tactics Leave SOUR... !!!
Tastes In Young Mouths...
Whose Futures Face Clouds...

That Are Darker Than Men..
Who Choose To BEHEAD...
Teachers Who Are French... !?!?!

Because of Things Said...
In Things They’ve Expressed...
That Made Them Get VEX... !!!

… Tactics So DREAD... !!!
That They Now Lead To DEATHS... !!!

Like Those Caused By FEDS...
And This Virus That’s Sent...
A Whole Set of Tactics...
Now Claimed To DEFEND...

The Masses From Ashes...
And People Left DEAD... !!!

But As I Have Said...
They’re Causing PROBLEMS...
And BIG ARGUMENTS...
Between Congressmen...
Presidents And PM’s...

Because of These Tactics...
That Clearly Have Bred...

Words of DEFIANCE...
As Well As DISSENT... !!!

From Political Heads...
And Their Constituents... !!!

And Of Course Now Racism...
Is... Tactically Driven...
To Now Be RESTRICTED...
From Being In Vision...

In Films And Folks Thinking...
As If THIS Makes A Difference...
To Those In Positions...
Where Racism's Hidden... !!!

Well My Poetic Tactics...
Deal In... REALISM...
In Things That I’ve Written...

That Are NOT IMAGINED...
Like Minds Now Held CAPTIVE...

Like Slaves Taking Lashes...
Because of Their Ramblings...
That Now Seem OUTLANDISH... !!!

In A World That's Now...
... COLLAPSING...

Which May Simply Be...
Because of...

" SCARE Tactics “.......
In such a crazy time, one has to wonder what tactics are being used, and for what purpose, when it comes to the powers that be ?
God's Oracle Dec 2019
Silent prayers are being recited all thru my consciousness
Of desperation and a moment of escalating into a rare flare of clarity
My mind screaming to go escape the reality of my current toils of Life and saddened realization that am still stuck in square one...still waging war thru my tumultuous addiction I just want true joy peace and prosperity a want a different Life for myself but I always self-sabotage my sobriety walk with an endless urge to go get high one more time just one last time I get some sober time under my belt and again feel inadequate to deal with Life triggers, problems, clutter and stressors beat me back to using once again. I try to talk to my peers to God to councilors to doctors to my own head and mind to my addiction begging and pleading I want to be free but I love getting high a little more than sobriety but I want to understand why this is...I recall that I use substances to temporarily relieve my schizophrenia and ADHD. To get a frozen piece of time to reconnect with my inner soul but at the same time feeding this demons that keep me trapped inside a mental prism that the only way out is wanting to live a life of no use of any mind altering substances. Am stuck between wanting a better healthier more enjoyable Life without pushing any efforts into changing knowing that ultimately lead me back to using dope to do something am comfortable and feel at a pleasant with utilizing my own body to conduct a forced neurological and psychological change...so I can once again relive and reminiscence on that subtle wave of calmness and comfort I adore so much. Harsh reality sets in I run out of substances to indulge in and slowly but surely my brain synapses go back to normality and re-stabilize. I keep wanting this revolutionary change of mind but am willingly putting no work towards getting better...I am here pondering is it because my own drug use has become hardened enveloped in a complex mechanism that tactically constructs avenues to facilitate it's initial impulse to go and do what makes my mind and body feel at ease with a touch of serenity and well being. Nevertheless, when the drugs are completely expelled from my system I pay the toll for pushing my biological neural and nervous system to it's peak functionality. The biggest obstacle in my path to sobriety is mundane ordinary routines of every day living life without no sense of gratification thru drugs themselves. Am truly trying to reach that place where I feel as if this drugs I involve myself to use leave me disgusted at myself for doing that to myself when its all a grand illusive temporal alleviation of stress problems and feelings and emotions being blocked off and masked to a degree of non-existent competence. Am left in the end with a constant inner symptom of slightly elevated compulsive feeling of wanting to repeat the experience again and again and again. This becomes the battle and little by little becomes a rampaging addiction depending on the person's impulsivity level and puts the person in a state of uncomfortable decision making when in reality the drugs don't solve anything thru them the problems become temporarily "out of sight out of mind" but when sobriety sets back in and every neuronal and hormonal changes due to the use become expelled and fully removed from the user's system the user goes thru a period of acute withdrawals and followed by other minimal symptoms like irritability, depressed mood, dysphoria and neuro-chemical imbalances. All I am going to focus from now on is how to slow down my use to the point ill be easy for me to leave it alone all at once. I want to believe I can find true joy peace contentment and happiness thru being drug free but every time I think of it I give myself a certain doubt that in time it becomes malignant and grows to be another reservation waiting to be subconsciously manifested. Sooner or later my subconscious becomes too hard to ignore and I play the game of "insanity" again and go do what I know... Which is get intoxicated. I will sooner or later learn how to deal with my Life's trials and tribulations in a different way and learn that thru God's grace & power I can be clean and arrest this monster once and for all.
My inner mind thoughts about my own struggles thru the hurls of addiction.
Simon Ashman Apr 2016
I was woken at around 5:30am by one of my flatmate's many coughing fits, this not being anything out of the ordinary. My insomnia left my hearing hypersensitive to all variety of usually below the radar noises. Often this time of night caused my mind to suffer from a lack of focus, an unrelenting stream of random thoughts seemed to just bombard my inner thinking space. All manor of things crossed this space, only existing for a moment, then disappearing almost as soon as they had come to my attention. This inability to concentrate my body on sleep would take its toll, I imagined, though acting very little upon this warning. The coughing had seemed to have stopped, and the gentle warmth from the nearby radiator made the room comfortable enough to exist in, at least until the traffic began in the next few hours. This twinned with the rising of the sun would completely ruin my chances of drifting back off, as due to compulsion I always slept with the curtains open. I rolled across the sheets and slid myself into my office chair placed tactically by the window. A small flint lighter was poised for occasions such as these. Lighting up a cigarette I opened the window to embrace the silence that hung in the air like the smoke that cascaded it's way across my lips and ****** features. Knowing not how to distract myself I mindlessly drew until the embers burned down to the filter, craving the rest my body so desperately desired. Once extinguished, I slid back under the duvet where my still tepid body heat was noticeable to the temperature of the air around me. Finding little pleasure in this I scanned the room. Nothing out of the ordinary, nothing especially of interest at this moment in time. Almost sighing I curled the unbuttoned sheets around my face and head, only leaving my eyes, nose and mouth bare to my surroundings. The frame noticeably creaked with the movement. Once still my thoughts returned to pin balling themselves around in such an abstract manor that I simply closed my eyes and listened to the show. Almost a lecture of my deprived state of being flowed forth which required little conscious effort to follow along, more like background noise. After what seemed potentially to be a shorter period of time than I had imagined my eyelids became lazy and only remained open long enough to see the first signs of dawn extinguished behind the entwining of my eyelids. It wouldn't last. Soon I'd be forced to rise once again and return to regular human activities, but for now I enjoyed the stand-by. The delicate existence between asleep and awake. The sort of existence where ideas climb over each other to become dreams. Dreams, which, as I had grown used to, would be short lived and their memory lost to my subconscious library. But that would come later, in the morning. Until then I enjoyed the peace, though it wouldn't last for long.
byron Johnson jr Aug 2019
In a pool full of words my fingertips dance with elegance. Stringing together blissful melodies as I paint sentences of succulent decadence. Coated in benevolent embellishments. tactically crafted paragraphs are like scents seen evanescent.
Scorch'd Diana Feb 2021
Somberness, see it sanctuarily swearing
sword-tongue worded spellspeech secretly sunder a number
apart from another,
no ear so keen just to hear the equation
crackle into informal shatter.
No regrets nor bother
among preachers nor hypocrits,
so same as it's sad, their chatter
a masked creature
that fits this disordered scripture
of us.

Aware of a far-reaching freedom
each of them fathomless to their undone dares
to fail becoming one;
they,
all feature a familiar pattern
which matters even less to them
than a fantasy's thorn to their first thoughts, frankly;
they,
who share the same history they're enacting
their manifest destiny of a doom chosen
their fair share of despair
so spectacularily reflecting through
their fleet tranquil escaping
from those fear-forsakened frail bone-marrowed
branch brittles they've rosen
so fro as they are, frighteningly awake
fleeing those fractures so alive
in fashions gorgeous fractals alike
no grit, no wit capable of constructing such a lit, yet aesthetic scene of delight.

They,
each afraid of their boundaries beloved
to be breached apart so badly
only for captivity and nothing else
as they beg
counter-intuitive measurements taken
caught from under the counter countlessly
those captives, their algorithms split, entwined;
so better, better don't mind it;
undozens of them
all death-grasping frozen
from just a slightliest rattle
of the crispy pages bearing a poem
or a *** pinched by a laddle.

Falsely do they believe revolving
advancing their middle
however, with its Forever forgotten
prayer by prayer
for the sake of a splendid soil
oblivious to the seed that is rotten.

Oil-devouring tumoil tactically targets their entire toil
pouring visions filling each stare
for each one to chisel only another
effort-evaporating Escheresque stair
for ground and ground apart at the borderline
they are,
the sharp scraping of the air
gnashing winds under the ice of a somber sunshine.

These crystalline brimstones
spacelessy stranded;
vile ambers, yet of beauty unspoken
sparking like cider, from apples royalty-branded
perhaps even prickling, peach-flavoured honey wine
reminiscing silent lovers' moans
ones a satyr favours in folly
in gayness he eaves his hallowed shrine.

Without answers
a riddle is meant unbroken
shards of their failure, silkenly sanded
faintly, a filthless spirit's essence,
so fine.
Some insight may have been awoken
perhaps this and not another time.
Just the right questions
painfully born from the sublime.

In and on,
however a retrospect away
a new future rises from the ashes of fallen hells
mere memories of an old fiend
darkness encountered
for each delusion you slay
and eventually
even you, as well, will listen
listen to the bells from the yondersome elsewhere ringing, wailing
hailing their soul-crackling harmony
somewhere from above us all.

Cardinal numbers are breathless,
while we,
so proud to appraise prime numbers
so wishfully down to their core,
rather dream unparalyzed a dream
of an unclaimed nowhen
stuck in a less corrupt algebratic behaviour than before;
error-ridden operations so holdlessly scaffolded
our somberness
submerged and suffocated.
Down
down we swam to see sunken cities of sorcery;
suicidal endeavour, hive mind agony
our race means for the next galaxy
yet still a race meant for parsimony.

All in all, ****** in brickly rubble
what once was wall, popped much like a bubble;
crumbling, stars burst our skies apart
fates laughing the madnesses' mirth
no hand unscorched, suddenly so much to win.
They listen, scent, and see,
the ones they miss, and what they've lost;
gasping, gazing up ahead
wings spread, glare brightly
flame-feathered doves of rebirth
released, everyone's dignity
finally freed from the heart.

We're not, not mindlessly suffering a somewhere
but this time, facing this inquiry:
What else is there
reality or not
modality or possibility, probably an actuality;
as we learn to sincerely care and to feel
the current breath, the nation, the spot
they all are our responsibility
doubtlessly and definitely real.

Thus, secondary to me
each second that ***** my spirit dry
throughout a minute
anywhen
as we spire from hour to hour
honestly, far, far too often
and not from now and then.

Primary, however, is
my mistake which I'll hold me dire
I would rather not anymore, ever
divide zero by itself again.
What I learned like so many before
cannot count in this realm of some foreign heart
- now, for me -
anymore
which is indeed my problem
as I'm burning these pages I tore apart.
01011001
We waft and wend our way through life
Avoiding complication's strife,
We meld our courtship to the mould
Incorporating righteous hold,
All the while, ***** our head
Until such time that we are dead.

Some abide by rules, absurd
Others running with the herd,
A few deny the Devil's work
Others conjure the berserk
Wherewithal we come and go
As tactically, as best we know.

Some we win, some we lose
We play the cards, as best we choose,
For life is but a gambled toss
Of joyful win or saddened loss
With courage then, we all stride out
In optimism's bouyant shout.

When, at last, the curtains fall
Aloft, we hold, summation's call,
Good or bad, that last decree,
Bears determination's fee.
For judgment's tidal vanity
Is but a ripple, to humanity.

M@Foxglove.Taranaki.NZ
19 May 2024
A final shout to the Gods!
Fraser Thomson Feb 2019
To teachers who put up with me,
And those who stuck up for me.
To those who saw me at my best,
And gave me space at my worst.
Thank You Very Much.

To opportunities
I have taken
And actions
That are now forsaken.

Thank You
For the times I’ve spent
Studying and Smiling
(And tactically texting)

And after years
Of dread and fear
The time at last
Is fin’lly near.

We’re free and wild
And to you I owe
Knowledge and Memories
Thank You Very Much
Plus applying index finger as pointer guide
(take that Missus Wells),
who best not take objection, hence let snide
blackboard barbed comment dultifully slide
chalked up and emanating

from gentleman with pride
and prejudice toward third grade teacher,
whose archaic rubric, I no longer abide
when a student at Henry Kline,
he now doth elide

ridiculous bans Boyer Grade School
instituted), who undoubtedly Gracefully yells
from her grave, against these codas long defied
condemned, exorcised, forbidden taboos,
nonetheless tactically helped this pied

piping peter pan, an aging (intellectual baby
boomer bookworm) as his tried
and true knowledge bank account swells
conviction communicating wide
across avast web donning

and/or trumpeting averring,
he always decried
"FAKE" arrogance, conceit, egotism,...
which learning my methodology quells ride
ding high crest of aspiration an aside

to increase cerebral deteriorating multicells,
thus lessening the smarts for suicide
this technique fosters enhanced cognition,
galvanization, pronunciation, et cetera,
whereby vocalizing words,

while ensconced backside
voicing, learning idea
constituting each sentence,
(within figurative nutshells) decide
dutiful dogged diligence involves eyesight,

mandibular interaction
jabbering, sans oral jawbreader divide
aided by vocalization augmentation allows,
enables, and provides groundswells
flowing fun like joyride

with incorporation to hear
nasal twang only downside
syllabification altogether garnering
boost to comprehension outstride
ding learning taking paradigm nationwide.
You believe your deceived wrappings it in plastic is packaging dope
No hope its insinuated it's a rubber for
The **** bout to poke a hole in your throat.
Drastic is savage how you manage bad tactics like a crack head in a black bed. Light your trap house with gas and matches soak your mattress like a can of nitrous gents a black wire set to blast ****. Have it you blackhead attack and stab like bed bugs attack female abdomen. I'm a savage kid.
Your bout as average as a sadness in a hinder concert
Get nickleback to frame your picture in their photograph so your last day on earth is bout as happy as the *** you never had *****. **** it I'm a habit you cant grab so I'll wreak havoc on your planet. Stash your body parts and dismantled *** in the trash can next to the Pepsi cans you had next to my mash potatoes you *** **** stuff your prison up your ***. Go **** your dad and. Cry about the drugs that enhance the logic that your trapped in
Let's agree on one thing after this happens we gotta manage as ateam or crash and burn in damnation like damaged plastic afire and smoking toxicity gasping like a snoop dogg ***** flick with ******* laughing at your *** crack I must be forgetting passion they asking what's your rebuttal. Something subtle or drastic. *** this game of masking your existence to be free of guilt is actually fuck8ng classic but your gonna your asskicked oh it's going to be drastic wrapped like caskets burgers chips and dips and every ******* single thing I want like devils glass
******* and massive grass to grab like plants of madness in my field of dances... your up ***** cant wait to laugh it. Have it.


Split personality hey denial itself
Concocted script you knew was wrong.
I live it well so sit in hell
And **** your self
Slit your wrists and listen to the
Rythym of your heart since your so smart you only get yourself.
Furthermore. Evicted from your prison I ******* built so well. Eventually you built yourself. And the prison clothes youfitso welll
So sit in hell.
You selfish toy that never helped
Go fist yourself it fits you well.
You got stabbed by **** so well. You cried a little bit poor boy you've been through hell.
But heres no love your plate of **** can spill. Drastic plans of rapid cracking of limbs and body tissue will fill my hope with love and devotion to promote my open self. Go to hell.
My boat is well. Stash my *** in the trash *** I'm *****. And that's my *** as well. Grab it well. Romance is swell. But dancing with the devil is a dance with chance that actually matches well with how you have yourself.
**** **** your *** is *****
Cancer tip you have your **** you laugh at **** that lasts like bicks at psrtyd where theres random kids blazing massive spliffs
Cant handle it
The tactic is. I'm eradicatingrvery center of power you managed to position ammunition in a plan to have me blasted *****. I outlasted satan's plan you think you have a squint and grabbing any chance at this
Your dance exists for two minutes
Heres my *** handle this your switchblade is fuckingmanly ****.
The plan is this I'm sick as ****. Of surviving always asking forascrap of esteem from god or passengers on this path we get. Its laughing capacity I couldmanag3 actually with out you in my family. You actually tactically kept my fragile self in happy health and fuckingtoxicly mis managing and tragically opposite of what I want romantically halftime guysaroundme ******* want me actually I'm amazed gods brought me Hope's of life beyond senseless prisoner bitter denial depression and insanity.
That ravaged me so savagely
You laugh but it's not funny its very sad to me.
You gladly and happily where my protector when my fragile soul was grappling with battles unmanageable damaging. But now you've grown insatiable and practically so terrifying I'm afraid I'll pass my life with drugs and suicide and no love left for my boyfriend kids or family. My uncles passing came like blasts from heaven that wrapped him in an aura of glowing light with magic like gravity to keep his soul in heaven when god was mad at me.
An angel he took to heaven. One good friend and sacred family.
Darcy your practically a massive black hole that sits empty like a blackness cavity in the center of my anatomy
Tragically
You battled cancer but god never waits for Angel's. Specially when he has to be. The watcher of creation and defender of reality.
Happy me I wanna see you in the realm of angeps with my beloved family and laughter fills our gasping lungs with guilt free cancer at lungs max capacity for exhale detonation placed so much buttons in this rhapsody its practically packaged labelled match me up on tinder let's get this freaky **** happening I know you want me so bad you practically attract my *** like a black hole collapsing in a pocket of a space attracting madness to your black ****
Savage get my *** licked. With a passion for romance like candles make a blanket feel like panic in a disco. Like let's go into abyss and finish what we started. Let's pump this heart. And get *******. Who's the marksman whose the target. Regardless I'm going to be the smartest your the hardest. I'll see when every card revealed and my darkness becomes your heartless target in the part so ******* even Gabriella and serial killer valentine's yo smart and scared to watch it.
Slowly marshmallow
My hearts jello.
This parts mello.
I start with hello
Smart but metal
Is a complex
In my mind that never let's go
With a pencil scripting truth like dental floss keeps teeth from being yellow.
Instrumental suspenseful
Pen on metal like mulisha
Intentions like mental
Retention on forgetful
Eventual. The devil
Of hello.
With fangs like ivory moon
By silent
Silent but dreadful
Incredibly lead soaked
To bad that the rest of his buddies
Are dead yo
A weapon of settling with ***** status
And learning your not a devil nor god nor king of the temple.
So your the chosen sent message.
Of god and his men. But you feel weak and resentful. *** you were tough.
And no one told you an order.
So your slowly learning submission
Let go of your heads load.
And focus on worship
Regret is a dead flow.
The rivers stagnant no growth in contempt the fish dont go where
Lifes not willing to let go. Embrace totality of god surrender and be s member of gods home.
Were not known. But so hot yo. Cant wait to watch for the hope of having myself back in order. Pray I'm not alone in the journey you fought so hard to watch me walk home with slot of love you brought home to my top dome. My heart a hot zone of love your like a rock show.you talk so gravy you and god saved from a rotting talk show where I never ate hotdogs and pretended to love nachos.
Where oprah unfolds before my eyes I'm in a foreign body. But I reject it and fu kingwalk home
I dont want those. I fuckingwant home.
Be awesome when I get to heaven I fought the devil. Awesome wish but god ill accept any gift you give me. I know it's not home
Unless god knows
We all have roles. If I'm the door greeter I'm never gonna talk slow.
If I'm feet warmer I'm a make them feet go from hot cold.
Server of elixir. I'll drop half the tonic on the furnace to ignite a flame *** fall out boy obnoxiously thought so.
Like I'm the slowest to complete the list but different in every box that's chalked or marked and oprah's talks full

— The End —