"treasonous" poems
Seasons pass, tempered by insalubrious fervor; treasonous design remiss of fate
An echo of prior songs resonate somber atrophy; mourn the passing of constant defeat, stained by triumphant dissonance and disdain
Fear strides along the broken path, left alone and solemn and crass: Through sour feats of vindication, tones of plight become dismissed
Surfeit, the sound of temptation rides upon the crest of dawn, blinding darkness like calming waves caressing infinite stretches of sand: soft and warm; kind and welcoming, embracing in its gentle touch
Sentience hides behind a creeping fog, whispering secrets of life eternal, bearing gifts wrought through sensuous candor
Two threads lost, now found; slowly bonding, uniting purpose, rhythm, rhyme, and reason; born from the same cloth, garnering habit, singing in harmony what echoes from within
Beautiful, intelligent, staunch with profundity; stark, handsome, wholesome, and good
The call of a true home may finally beckon..
Dec 13, 2017
Dec 13, 2017 at 2:08 AM UTC
I fight for my village, I fight for the peace
Although in the real world, I never decease
I'm fighting like Madara, do it for the leaf
Forget Tsukiyomi, just go back to sleep
You sheep, believing the higher-ups, lie up their sleeves
Uchia have been dead yet still we lack peace
You hate me brother, yet deep in your heart
You couldn't defeat me even from the start
Your ideology, to **** and then rebirth? Where's the sense in that
You hate the leaf and you hate the fact
You needed them to build up, to be a shinobi
I see how you treat him, but can you trust Tobi
I did this for you, so hate me all you can
The reason you stand there's according to plan
I lived in the darkness so you guys could see
I always wanted this, I always believed
And if you must **** for it all to back
I hope you open up and stay on the track
Even the darkest shinobi have reasoning
Some call me a hero, yet some say it's treasonous
I think about Shino, we both were so young
My friend was a hero, his tale left unsung
Our eyes should see clearly, yet we have been blinded
Hatred and rage bind us, even we can't define it
Is it a curse to have all this strength
Yet death finds us open, leaves us with no suspense
Had it been the leaf to hunt for my head
Would it have been better, if it was them instead
I pray you may realise your curse is to think
To cut down the ninja, you don't even blink
They fear the Uchiha, our name is a swear
They treat us like dirt, yet here we still care
Maybe Naruto is the happiest of us all
To let go of hatred, to have a trust fall
You look up to me like I was your leader
You found a hollow husk and found you were eager
The eye is eternal, our lives are short-lived
We both signed the contract, what more can we give?
To see through the red, as our comrades bleed
To not even care, they fulfilled their needs
One day you'll be lost, stuck in your own beliefs
As someone takes away your life, such is a thief
If you can not see that I pray that you know
I've always wanted you to overtake me, bro
Nov 10, 2022
Nov 10, 2022 at 7:33 AM UTC
Paratroopers free fall,
'chutes coiled and caught in a grease ball afro curl
reaching down perplexed ****** frames.
Diligent chortling mimes trapped in handmade indecision cages, tapping a telling tune of tired games played day after day.
A right brained boy with a head full of clout
miscommunication with a leftist expat from the north
to the south.
Jostled connections send out fizzling sentences
through blown speakers and an overheated circuit -
Bored of the excuses whispers the nameless
without a reason there isn't a purpose.
Shoot an accusing glare past Father Time
overlooking treasonous discouraging crimes
Open those whale blubber caked eyes
to the other side.
It's not what this has done to you
but what this has done to us.
The hitchhiker gave up, traded his thumb for a seat on the bus.
Never was he lost, but given more than one chance.
He, no, she, no we
were thrown away with his walking stick and his waterproof nap sack.
Will we cross this road again?
And pick up from where we began?
Or never turn back?
Always was he lost, but given one too many of a chance
But was it worth it?
Upholding the "right and proper" stance?
Feb 15, 2010
Feb 15, 2010 at 12:08 PM UTC
i'm two traits converged into one messy finger painted paradox
a disposition to do good, but i have maleficent intentions set in
stone, my mind shows me how i look in the mirror but the threads
of my body are like looking through a window, then again, who isn't
wondering about the reality other people hide like a facade, cleverly
subdued and sinking me in cold water until the ice is all i've ever known
love is a difficult topographic setup, unable to be evened out
inconsistant roads and treasonous dead ends bother me because
it's potential to break my interior and exterior, but what do i
matter? sticks and stones don't bother me, it's the words that
break my bones and assist my architecture i carefully built
along with my empire built from my bare hands to tumble
haphazardly out of my reach, pulling these weights along my
feet for some type of hope that things will finally become clear
- kra
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
Robbing me of holidays
Time shares left in the bottom drawer
Hiding behind confusion
lives colliding
Head on in the present
Riding the fence
Occasionally climbing down
To my side
To play for awhile
Trade a few smiles
Until you are beckoned back
How it kills me when you disappear
Somewhere over there
In another world
It seems like years
Yet then you appear
A reluctant wave
To let me know you’re still there
Overpowering any semblance of restraint
In a treasonous act
My hand gestures back
Then I look at my grass
And start to question its green
Your eyes catch mine
With a soft, subtle charm
You whisper with the wind
You mean me no harm
Despite all my confusion and doubt
I believe everything
That never leaves your mouth
and I lay back in my grass
hands behind my head
stars winking at me
soothing my soul
waiting patiently
if only you would
climb down from that fence
but this time for good
Oct 26, 2011
Oct 26, 2011 at 2:50 PM UTC
Born into dawns spark
of suspicion .
Following faiths track
to eternity.
Questioning the rails
I traipse .
She knows the clouds
breath
crashes in the rocks
refrain .
Yet she fights for the
equality of senses .
We meet at the summit
of a lonely dreamscape ,
with flowers and nymphs
beautiful and armorous .
At the trees spire
we found meaning
as treasonous
blossoms return .
Dripping from loves
estotic comeback
nectar running down
her leg .
While her ballad is
written on ancient winds .
Sung as tragic owls
slip the spires
and wander the
broken fields .
While I lay dying
into dusks arresting
berth of acceptance .
She floats above
the crashing rocks
of freedom .
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 11:06 PM UTC
Give me the obscene
Not the clean
But the filthy ****
The pink ****
The thrusting ****
If that’s what you want
Then that’s what I got
Give me the obscene
Let me clear the scene
Of what we have seen
What you call unclean
Cause in the past
The obscene was the underclass
The undercurrent
Miscegeny, rock music
Civil liberties for minorities
Hippies and other counterculture
Freedom and treasonous language
Give me your obscene
Cause that’s where the future lies
Not were perverts spy
On ***** secrets
But where the freedom of language
Leads us closer to being
Better human beings
So I’ll take the obscene
Instead of the mind numbing
Thought controlling clean
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 2:16 PM UTC
I’m slowly losing hope in you
Possibly in humanity
And I might need to rethink my views
Or maybe my sanity
I’ve tried, applied, cried, and died
With more of the first in between the others
I build up visions and am finding they lied
And I’m left wond’ring if I’ll recover
I’m slowly losing hope in you
I’ve not falling, but it hurts to stand
As life steadily beats me black in blue
With my beating heart in your hands
And I’m tired. And I’m scared.
And I’m lacking from too many investments
And in waiting for you to be there
I’m succumbing to the elements
I’m slowly losing hope in you
Like shedding one tear each day
And as much as I want to leave you behind
I don’t want you to go away
It’s a syndrome, it’s a sickness
You’re my ailment and my cure
I am caught in this self placed thickness
With visions so obscured
And I am buried in 6 feet deep
Yet I can’t find the ground
The value’s there, the price is steep
And I fall to it without a sound
I’m slowly losing hope in you
I have not wandered, I have not strayed
Amidst the fervent treasonous cues
That cause the pouring of fermented rage
And I love you
But I’ll lose you
And I’ll suffer through and through
With soul and heart churning
First clenched up and burning
And my screaming for a simple cue
But I’ll stand there amidst tears, my love
Without a hint or a whisper of what to do
And you can see I’m fighting with all I’m made of
I haven’t lost hope...
...but I’m starting to...
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 2:54 PM UTC
Winter blasts,shrieking as pierced crystal in moonlight,
her figure trembles by the brinks edge.
Striking the center of her mind was a lost knight,
grabbing her sobs with tears frozen midcheek, before free falling from the ledge.
Spring, she wished to forget, when maid and man met,
stolen glances,verbal advances, a skins breach of indecency.
A single solitary evening was set, a tryst between Lachlan and Lizbet,
a tangled two caught in treasonous secrecy.
Blistering and bold, the summer, unforgiving,
imprisoned Lizbets' waist increases.
Lachlans' fate--no longer with the living,
a Lord may punish adultery as he pleases.
Fall, where all surrender to die,
a babe forced out silent, the demise of labors hope.
Barely clad the woman lingered, as did her lie,
the sentence one of repugnance and a length of hanging rope.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 11:49 AM UTC
The conservative element in DC
Has something else as priority.
It sure is not you, nor is it me.
It’s a much more powerful constituency:
Those who pull strings do not care
Unless you are a multi-millionaire
And contribute to their greedy cause
Like some kind of Santa Claus.
They keep on doing what they’re doing
******** who they were ********
I would explain it all if I could
But sometimes words do no good.
Behind all the gobbledy ****
Someone is not playing by the book.
Winning with lies is what they are trying
To make the true facts look like lying.
They keep you so confused that you
You believe what they want you to,
So you won’t see behind their wiles
To bring their larcenous ***** to trial.
Dignifying public rumors of buggery
You look away from skullduggery.
A few insignificant happenstances
Eclipse treasonous circumstances.
You ***** about gays and abortion
While conservatives commit extortion
And persecution in Jesus’ name.
To them it’s all a ratings game.
If you don’t care what people feel
You lose all track of what is real.
You turn into a tool for deception;
A dupe of sleight-of-hand misdirection.
As long as things are as they are
We’ll get run over by the clown car
Which is the Congress currently seated.
And as long as they remain undefeated
The rules will leave the deck stacked.
Nobody in DC will have our backs.
Why should they care about our whim
When the way it is benefits them?
We need one item, one bill rules
Or we end up the same beaten fools.
We need campaign funding to be equal
Or each election becomes a sequel
To what happened with Gore and Bush
When backdoor politics bit us in the ****
The only way change will ever come around
Is to take the loopholes from these clowns.
Dec 11, 2015
Dec 11, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
artifice, oh artifice of deception
miraculously ameliorated
by a strategy masquerading as a reality
or a reality masquerading as a strategy
leads to unresolved questions
of the perplexities that tug
at the heart of many truths
laying bear the spontaneous rhythms
of a mind in motion with
an unprecedented intensity
of a struggle to articulate
perceptions of a shattered understanding
of absurdities proclaimed as violations
of moral obligation
for morality is nothing more than opinion
that has a treasonous alliance with itself
giving birth to illegitimate validations of stupidity
Nov 17, 2012
Nov 17, 2012 at 1:57 PM UTC
I am lonely, yes lonely
Yet I do not stop
I do not stop
For I do not wish to offend
Offence that terrible conflict
Between commodity of self interest
And treasonous alliance of the heart
Offence an immaculate misconception
Aug 24, 2012
Aug 24, 2012 at 5:58 PM UTC
“…and no religion too…”
Was it easy to do?
Did it make you angry
Or did you agree?
Is God already dead?
Do you believe what Nietzsche said?
But then who killed him?
Was it us or them?
With their rejection
Or your revelation?
We live with man’s insistence
Of defining God’s existence
Creating us in his image
With a holy marriage
Of our disobedient soul
To an ancient scroll
Or does science
Define our conscience
As pure logic
With all else pathologic?
How can we believe
The zealots who cleave
To intellectual scorn
Or under whose God they were born?
“… and there is no country…”
From the pages of history
War and conquest
From time earliest
Past the age of reason
Marching each season
With imperialistic fury
And dominating hegemony
The meek unable to rule
Believing like any fool
The words of the deceased
Strewn from Eden to the East
Giving hope to the hopeless
Who have no access
To the dreams of the chosen
But instead remain frozen
In time to be glorified
By mere words that personified
Our need to care
In impotent prayer
Can you separate your senses
From those whose defenses
Are erected so high
That you cannot tell truth from a lie?
Can you dream of a world
Where a bohemian’s word
Stripped of accompaniment
And all earthly judgment
Has stood the test of time
Even when accused of the crime
Of a treasonous plea
For peace and all to see
The cruelty and horror
That power and desire
Have brought to our garden
Where the meek receive no pardon
Because they dared to beg
For a mere pittance to mask
Their pain and suffering
As they lived with the knowing
That a song about dreamers
Can never overcome the schemers
Who laughed at his naivety
And forced upon you their deity
All Rights Reserved. Copyright 2011. Mark Lecuona.
Jan 30, 2012
Jan 30, 2012 at 4:20 PM UTC
Interior silence
Resounds
Reverberates
Through thin vessel walls.
How this heart has been betrayed
By the body
Whose mind let go nobility.
And refined the slithering ideas
Of duplicity
Interior silence
Hollow, hallow
Treasonous
To the consciousness of desire.
What happens
When the blood betrays
The very heart that pumps it
Through the mind?
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 5:13 PM UTC
A pest festers underneath the
gravel. Groups sequestered
From Two separate, yet identical
Lines. One was aborted for similar
Linear tendencies as the other
Was not treasonous, by our
Standards; but four fathers
May have thought otherwise.
Unless the sequestered reenter
This sector, the vacuumed vector
Of two lines will seamlessly fill
Our needs of technology. But, only
To hone drones in a land where
"Shalom" is only welcoming in
Specific zones. Only if the isolated
We're the ones creating mandates.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 4:59 PM UTC
all have deserted me
i am now a singularity
in a vast universe
of multiple calculations
whose flesh in punctuated breaths
speaks to a vast arraignment of eyes
whose vicarious vexatiousness
lends for vicious testimony
that would trickle from so many mouths
and make a trespass upon the truth
in treasonous tongues of false supplication
where my hand is given to sable shadows
dark, dusky specters who walk with me
show guidance in the motives of the artifice
in absolute truth
for there is no such thing
Nov 27, 2012
Nov 27, 2012 at 5:54 PM UTC
person 1 person 2
My heart stopped
My heart stopped
Reaching for Reason I found only treasonous attempts of my breath
I was hooked
Line and Sinker
and I sunk and I sunk
Down to depths only Sigmund theoreticized about
His eyes
Her smile
begat me
grappling my mouth
Yet still I flew
Free from pain, filled with euphoria
Delirious, hungry, I questioned
Is this real?
His flesh?
Her lips?
Together our vessels rocked and moved as one
I still questioned the horizon
looking for the morning, hoping
he wouldn't see
my minute disguise defiled
Is this real?
My heart still stopped
Reaching for Rhyme
We navigated the waters
only with time
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 3:19 PM UTC
Oh you Americans,
how you have forgotten
the Queen's English
is a tragedy,
nothing describes formal beauty better
than the stiff upper lipped
Englishman in me
I mean seriously
you treasonous Yankees
did you forget ********
and ******
and **** hole
I mean
the English swear
better than anybody else
You should try your best
to remember
the forgotten
English words
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
dreaming demon screaming without reason
treasonous season fastidious and aromatic
blooming blossoms bursting from bosoms
new shoots shooting forth
life re-awakening with longer days
and warming temperatures –
civilized industrialization outclassed
by the low roar of larva taking flight
en masse wings flash and crops gasp
nature retaliating after its relinquishment
relegating mankind to extinguish the fires
of the long cold lockdown –
frolicking fawns free and fuzzy
boundless bounce in green alfalfa fields
white tipped hare tails leap and scurry
and Mrs. Coyote cleans kits absentmindedly
looking over flowing prairie grasses
for a mouse sized morsel –
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 11:21 AM UTC
My heart has always been skeptical,
and sometimes I think that it's waiting.
waiting to go back to being hollow,
like that old church in Vienna,
after mass on a rainy day in October.
I stood outside in the garden:
extracted my rib,
ground it down on that stone,
shaping it into a knife
so that I could dig a small hole
to bury my treasonous heart.
You emerged into that dark wood,
and we found a path together
through moonlit streets and storms
until we came upon a tavern-
your laughter sloshing like
warm bourbon falling into a glass.
I'd watch you when you lost your self,
and I could see the fire burning in you
warming me, and in those lost moments
I didn't care at all that I might get burnt.
Oct 18, 2019
Oct 18, 2019 at 6:36 PM UTC
The grass waved around me as I lay on a knoll,
Bemused by wonder as it caressed my soul.
Free.
Free to run, free to jump, free to skip, and soar.
Watching the clouds, I didn’t want anything more.
Did I feel a man then
Innocent and dreamy eyed me?
Then, I barely even cared.
Time flows on, ceaseless, changing as the tide.
Ever ever on, trees bud, shade, shed, and hide.
Free.
Free to run, free to hide, free to cry and be alone.
Yet there it was, His name etched in the stone.
Did I feel a man then?
Fearful and lonely me?
Then, I barely felt anything.
I had to act, basking in an immense wave of duty.
The corpse of my childhood was a thing of beauty.
Free.
Free to grow, free to mature, free to finally measure up.
As I turned away I thought I felt as my heart close up.
Did I feel a man then?
Treasonous and cold me?
Then, I barely felt human.
Here I sit, with gray streaks coloring silver hair.
Wistful, gazing back, back when I didn’t care.
Free.
Free to sleep, free to rest, free to go back and never return.
Before I go give the hourglass one last turn.
How is a man measured?
Power? Wisdom? Actions?
Or is it the things he treasured?
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 12:21 PM UTC
I saw you just taking out the trash, but I didn’t want to seem like a creep, so I let things skip a beat and now I’m thinking of your smile and your face but I’m at windows distance and I figure that you want some space or you’d be hitting me up and right now so I stand between the
Crater filled lakes of ash and ****
scoured landscapes sickened by flame.
Fire and breath of choking ash distended disarray
Lava lakes and crater making mash
the splintering soul coming through, gashing and weighing in on itself.
it knows little of the chopped trees gutted for domicile.
The fresh roots poke from soil
and I sit and think about how I can dig holes around myself and with that somehow take something away,
like a tree or a treasonous wish.
Pitfalls and kush. Smoking the herb and with wishes of last dishes
Misguided missels firing,
their exhaust coughing plumes,
and strands of future tears,
and beams of heat pierce the sky,
molding oxygen to any form fit.
Distraught I revisit the past.
The crashing pain and aftermath,
the raking claws, the jaws and teeth, seeping from the soil.
Coiled snakes flicking tounges
and young souls.
old and putrid piles of bones,
left alone to shine bright,
and tranluscent as night falls, my mind is old and misguided.
I’ll cry out in distress I’ll never find the proper time to relax
I now know I’m worth nothing
I’m suckin in air taking up gas
I’m stressed but I’ll find
That throwing refuse onto a pile
Of burning rubber. the cooling bubbles
The trying times of today.
Getting out of slumber,
waking up to stay alive,
gritting teeth I hate myself
I am the pain and suffering, and that is why the suffering exists only in myself. without a body such as my own, perhaps suffering could cease.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 2:11 PM UTC
With Houston
For the right reasons
before you commit treasonous
acts of
Ripping the high notes
With the saxophone
Smooth violin
classic beats
guitar strings
Marvin Gaye
with time
am I alive
do I actually exist
Jay, Did we do it
did we
Reap the classic bars
from her chords
with chipping
Birds singing
Alicia klinging
Hearts breaking
Crying
Dying
falling
In love with piano
with emotions
regretting your mistakes
Written pearls
Dido flip
contained love
loved ones
roaming
moon walking
With soul
drums
disco
Diana
Ross
on jazz
Jul 21, 2017
Jul 21, 2017 at 4:37 AM UTC
Crackling comets colliding
and inside a stiff sprung box Earth lay dying.
There are more synaptic connections in a brain
than there are atoms in the universe.
Crusted blood cracked and crusted crumbling to the floor
and there grew treasonous trees,
unnatural nature.
Life sprung from life sprung from death,
The matter, what’s the matter, it never dies just changes form.
Each separate spot, treaded like an old stitch rethreaded
dinosaurs, plants, people passing breath after breath.
There will always be something left.
And we have no roots, no ties to an earth, free to roam
like old lions, lying and lying about.
No matter how long you remember being here, your cells are only seven years old, held by a membrane of change, arranged in a format that remains unexplained.
The eye of a needle can only go so small and dogs see the world through smell.
Will the people remember what we remember?
A collective consciousness of all history encompassed.
I watch as a rising bloom has turned to rose,
nature spreads like butter as we raise a toast.
Jun 12, 2010
Jun 12, 2010 at 4:02 PM UTC
Hush little nobody, don’t say a word
Don’t call the SCROTUS a great big ****
Because he will never cut you a break
He thinks any critic is a great big fake.
When SCROTUS ever gets caught in a lie
He always blames it on some other guy.
He blames everybody, even you
If not, of course, Obama will do.
Cowboy up, little baby, don't cry
Congress is just like this phony guy.
Laws that hurt the people will pass
Congress loves to kiss SCROTUS ***
If taxes favor the rich and not you
There is not a thing you can do
Congress has become an evil tribe
Run by treasonous theives and bribes.
And if Social Security goes broke
SCROTUS gonna tell you a ***** joke.
And if that ***** joke offends
SCROTUS gonna lie to you again.
So when there is no longer peace
And freedom gets replaced by a lease
You can kiss your savings goodbye.
Now you can read this and know why.
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 2:17 PM UTC