"truncheon" poems
What is ..... with ......
All this ... " ATTITUDE " ... ?!?
It seems ... The ... " In Thing " ...
to simply be ... " Rude " ... !?! ...
People in ... " The World " ...
are now .... So Crude .... !!!!!!!
Girls now walk streets ...
with arses ... in view ...
" Prostitution's " ... RIFE ...
But this ... " Isn't New " ... !!!!!!
So ....
If you have ... " A Bad Attitude " ... !!! ...
May I ask ... " What's wrong with you ? " ...
Do you feel ... " Misled " ... ???
Are you feeling ... " Upset " ... ???
Do you feel that your life ... ?
is just a .... " Pretence " .... ?
Do you feel as if ... ?
You'd be ... Better off ... DEAD ... !!!!!
Well ... if you do ... ?
It's Not Just ... YOU ... !!!!!
But it's ... NOT COOL ... !!!
to act the ... " Fool " ...
and live your life ...
with .... ATTITUDE .... !!!!!
If life's ... " So Rough " ...
and you wanna ... " Act Tough " ...
Get in ... THE RING ... !!!!!
Try on ... some gloves ...
and if it ... " Suits " ...
Make WAR ... NOT Love ... !!!
I riSE ... abOVE ...
This ... " Attitude Stuff " ...
But ... " Many suggest " ...
I'm ... " Billy Goat gruff " ...
This ain't ... " Call My Bluff " ... !!!!!
But I guess it's cos' ... ???
I'm NOT ... " White Enough " ...
to be .... " So Cool " ....
and ... NOT ... Wear Cuffs ...
Presumption can make ... ???
People give ... ATTITUDE ... !!!
So .....
Don't just ... " Assume " ...
cos this might be ... ?
Your ... LAST MISTAKE ... !!!!
" Attitude " ... that arises ...
because of ... " Assumption " ...
can leave men with ... " Truncheon " ...
Without their ... Heart Function ... !!!
cos' Attitude ... quelled ...
will then reach ... COMBUSTION ... !!!!!
So ....
PLEASE ... Don't Assume ...
when you enter ... " A Room " ...
Read this ... CLOSELY ... !!!
cos' when you ... Assume ...
You just make an ... " *** " ...
of ... Both You and Me ... !!! ...
Did you ...
Read it ... CLOSELY ... ???
Break that word into ... " Three " ...
*** ...
" U " ...
and then ... ME ...
Reminds me of a word ...
Yes ... " That Word " ... His - story
Just look at ... News Stories ...
and you ... Surely ... MUST SEE ... ?!?
Attitude's ... runnin" ....
on streets ... TOO FREELY ... !!!!!
Even on terraces ... in Italy .... !?!
Inter ... or ... A.C.
which fans ... can it be ... ???
I'm told these fans ...
... " Attitude " ...
FRIGHTENS POLICE ..... !!!!!
So .....
When they're ... Supposed ...
to use ... BRUTALITY ...
They'd rather not use it ...
but ... bring it to ... " Me " ... ?!?
Kind of like people ...
who do ... " Poetry " ...
From trying to act ...
Like ... They Like ... what I read ... !!!
Until I write words ...
That DISTURRRBBBB ... " Their Chi " ... !!!
Attitude ... ISN'T ME ... !!!
Come on ... Don't You See ...
My name is ... " Big Virge " ...
Friends call me ... " Big V " ...
But ....
Unless i've told you ...
You'd better use ... VIRGIL ... !!!
Unless you are ready ...
to fall at ... " That Hurdle " ...
This Isn't ... " The National " ...
My Poetry's ... " Rational " ...
as are ... " My Thoughts " ...
which ... CANNOT ... be bought ... !!!!!
So ....
Ideas that you ... " Court " ...
of ... Any such .... " Sort " ....
Take my advice ....
it's time to ... ABORT ... !!!!!
cos' ... Attitude's RIFE ...
when my temper ... " Runs short " ... !!!!!
So .... maybe it's time .... ?
to leave you ... " This Thought " ... ???
Attitudes' ... Crude ...
and is something for ... FOOLS ...
who think ... Being Rude ...
is now ... The New ... " COOL " ... ?!?
Well ....
Check out ... This view ... !!!
You're NOT ... being cool ... !!!
You're acting ... THE FOOL ... !!!
Now ....
If you're a ... " Female " ... ?
PLEASE ... Refuse to use ...
This ... " Needless Abuse " ... !!!
But ....
If you're a ... " Male " ... ?
Just be a ... " Cool Dude " ...
and just do ... " What's Right ... !!!
REMOVE ... !!!
... " Attitude " ... !!!!!!
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
We marched to the words of "We Shall Overcome"
courting justice to walk at our side,
seared into memory with the heat of sun
brothers and sisters, arms linked one to one
beneath that day star's unblinking eye,
we marched to the words, "We Shall Overcome."
We swore an oath to forego the gun,
to carry only freedom's cry
beneath the impassive afternoon sun,
through bludgeon and cudgel one by one,
each truncheon summoning others to rise,
to join in the words "We Shall Overcome."
As we embraced, the marching done,
a crosshairs trained a sniper’s eye
to wrench malice from the indifferent sun
to hew a path in blood and bone,
to rend flesh
and a rasping
fatal sigh . . .
in the fading caress of the afternoon sun.
Beneath the eternal arc of the sun,
again we will muster side by side,
a sanctified chorus, whose song will be sung,
let our marching echo...
"We Shall Overcome.”
Copyright © 2018 Gary Brocks
Conceived after visiting the LORRAINE HOTEL (Memphis, Tennessee), the site of the assassination of Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., Thursday, 4 April 1968.
In 1991 the NATIONAL CIVIL RIGHTS MUSEUM at the LORRAINE HOTEL was opened to the public.
"We Shall Overcome”, an anthem, title and refrain, of the American Civil Rights Movement of the mid 20th century.
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 4:18 AM UTC
Lithium, light they write,
Like it’s right, white delight
Striking bright, better tight:
Fine and dandy.
Glamourised in our eyes
The surprise as you rise
****** heroised,
Bitter candy.
Pump the *** dump the dot
******* it hot, spatter spot
Sing a lot, dream but not
Craving luncheon.
Skagging sweet sweaty meat
Blisters well under heat
Take a seat, come compete,
Beating truncheon.
Vie d’artiste, or at least
Rising yeast, bubbling beast
Trickling triste down your cheeks,
Ever daring.
Rising up, sup the cup,
Acid drop, fizzle pop,
Shoobie-doo-doobie-wop,
Death to caring.
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
to laugh at defeat
you must sing it
a beat
and evertime its feels
the heat is depleat,
blow trumpet at it
it will hear it
and quit,
the sound to it grit
naturally it's hit.
and when sometimes
you think
you've had enought of it
play it a piano
strict
each note you unhit
will glide it a stitch
truncheon sit and glit.
music does it fit
calm as a mozart huit.
a soprano seis
never felt so bate.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 6:06 AM UTC
Eye of bat and bowels of mice
Mixed into a cauldron cold as ice
Claw of rabbit, tooth of goat
Stir with a tale of a smelly stoat
Add two pints of stale perfume
Two rats whiskers and an ounce of misfortune
Ignite the mixture with a match
And burn it down to blackened ash
Gather the ashes and grind to powder
Add some Arsenic to make a chowder
Invite your enemies round for luncheon
No need to bludgeon with a truncheon
Sit back and watch the final show
Love your friends and **** all foe
This witches brew should do the trick
If they don't die they'll all be sick
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 5:37 PM UTC
“From ancient grudge break to new mutiny,
Where civil blood makes civil hands unclean.”
–William Shakespeare (Prologue to Romeo and Juliet)
I was hewn from the helpless limbs of a tree
Which could have grown
To become something magnificent
Through sanding and carving
Through varnishing and the work of human hands
I was formed
In a way, the tree which was mutilated to give me life
Was a foreshadowing of my truncheon fate
I swing through the air once again
A weapon in the hands of a vehement oppressor
Skin splits
Blood sprays
Bone shatters
Bodies litter the dust
Staining the earth with crimson testament
To the cruelty I have wrought
Some of the figures are marred
Reminiscent of the tree from which I was hewn
Which died to give me life
The dark throng of protestors
Are but mortals
Faced by the immortal power
Of those lighter beings
Who wield me, mercilessly
I wish to weep
For the destruction, pain
Anguish I leave in my wake
I wish I was still a living bough
Capable of shedding resin tears
Capable of yielding to greater forces
Not to force the vulnerable to break
But I cannot weep
I cannot yield
I am a baton
A weapon in the hands of those who swore to protect
Yet scythe down those who rise to protect what is rightfully theirs
Ancient grudge of black and white
Break to new mutiny of segregation
Where civil blood of those who seek protection
Makes civil hands who swore to guard them
Unclean.
Jun 6, 2020
Jun 6, 2020 at 6:59 AM UTC
Be careful of close auditoriums
And thick stanchioned stadiums
Watch out for iron gussetted doorframes
And bar covered windows
For your loneliness will trap you there
Backed up against the steel barriers
And probe your trembling thoughts
With it's dark truncheon.
Stay away from mirrors
Which can reveal your state of solitude
Automobiles which will show your inertia
Rollercoasters which can skitter you into the past
Without so much as a roll-bar
And arms, perhaps most dangerous of all-
Just before nightfall.
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 8:01 AM UTC
As for me, I chose the alternatives
To do what is right without the superlatives,
To love people without any threat
A choice too many have not made yet.
A loving but jealous and wrathful god?
Even those words put together sound odd.
If this omnipotence were on the level
Why not smite the heck out of the devil?
I never understood that stuff about Eden.
Why have just one tree off limits even?
To people who were basically children
Why was part of paradise ever forbidden?
Any parent will tell you about their kids
They would do exactly as those two did.
You couldn’t keep them away with a truncheon.
Those kids would have a ****** luncheon.
Oh, and what a self-righteous creep was He
To do what what he did to Job endlessly.
It has always sounded evil torture to me;
The work of a cloud-bound twisted bully.
Then for no reason anybody could ever tell
He created a son and then cast him into hell.
He let the Devil make a punching bag of Jesus.
This God creature seems to do what he pleases.
So what about this legend is so wonderful
That we heap money on priests by the basketful?
We create huge bejeweled palaces everywhere
And insist they are houses of God and swear
To visit them will make us all godly creatures.
Yet we demand no solid proof of those teachers.
If a car salesman delivered like that on a promise,
We’d take him out to and pound him into pumice.
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 3:54 AM UTC
When one walks in the night
As I do,
There is nothing for it
But to switch on your torch
And pray that the batteries don’t quit on you.
If anyone tells you they know this town,
Well, that is a cocksure lie.
If anyone tells you that the alleyways call to him
Then he is simply running from the bridge
Stretched over the river;
It’s that long drop into black that’s inviting him.
I had a friend once,
Claimed nothing was alive
Till that one clanging clock,
But he saw the dawn too early
And stepped out like it was daytime already but—
Let’s not talk about him.
No, I’m not saying
No one has business on the night streets.
That’s my own call out there,
Business.
I like thinking I protect the town,
Like any other man on the force,
But I know what the real danger is.
No man should step outside his house at night
Dressed up and looking out like the sun’s high in the sky.
Fun, yeah, sure,
But the potholes will rob you
And the little rats will trip you up as well,
So it’s really for the best that when I see you
Rambling the dark
And not skulking like any proper man would
I shake my truncheon at you
And point your drunk **** back home.
Apr 26, 2011
Apr 26, 2011 at 6:58 AM UTC
Because while the truncheon may be used in lieu of conversation, words will always retain their power.
Words offer the means to meaning, and for those who will listen, the enunciation of truth.
And the truth is, there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there? Cruelty and injustice, intolerance and oppression.
And where once you had the freedom to object, to think and speak as you saw fit, you now have censors and systems of surveillance coercing your conformity and soliciting your submission.
How did this happen? Who's to blame? Well certainly there are those more responsible than others, and they will be held accountable, but again truth be told, if you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror.
I know why you did it. I know you were afraid. Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease. There were a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense.
Alan Moore, V for Vendetta
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
Sophia's parents' invitation to tea
had been what I thought
it might be
an interrogation into my life
and style and earnings
and moral fitness
minus the bright lights
in the eyes
and the torture tools
and rubber truncheon
(although I am sure Sophia
would have found a use
for that in foreplay)
when I knocked
her father answered the door
stiff as a corpse
eyes on me
his hands at his sides
his Polish English
understandable but stiff
witaj
he said
welcome
I said
thank you
and looked at him
then tried to look past him
but he was wider than I thought
and I saw his shoulder
Sophia came beside her father
and smiled nervously
hello
she said
hello
I replied
jesteś tu
her mother said
behind her daughter
English Mama
her father said to his wife
giving her the hard stare
we went into the lounge
and he said sit down
so I sat down on the sofa
and Sophia sat next to me
her father sat in his armchair
and his wife stood gazing at me
as if I was a puppy
who had walked in with wet paws
you get tea now
he said
Sophia help your mama
Sophia rose up and went
with her mother leaving me
to my fate
he stared at me
his eyes icy
what are your intentions
with regards to Sophia?
he said
his Polish English was heavy
I unscrambled the words
good intentions
I said
(pushing our *** in his bed
with her that time
out of my head)
I'm Catholic and I work hard
I added
he looked past me
as if another waited behind me
for instructions
horyzont?
he said then added
prospects?
(to get her in bed again
as soon as possible
would not have applied
so I said nothing)
I just frowned
how are your prospects?
he said slower
as if he were talking
to an imbecile
o
I said
well I can make the grade
and become a full nurse
I added
his face remained still
nurse?
he said
qualified nurse
I said
he moved his head
as if his neck
had become stiff
and how are you in regards
to ****** relations? he asked
normal
I said
normal?
he said
I mean how to do you
think about *** after marriage
as the Church teaches?
(I pushed any image
of Sophia naked and on his bed
from my mind)
sure after marriage *** is good
I said
he smiled
I smiled
his wife and Sophia
brought in plates of food
and teapot and cups
and saucers and sugar
and milk and laid it all
on the table
all done
the wife said in Polish
(Sophia translated it in my ear)
good good
he said
nodding his head
his wife looked at me
daring me to touch
any food or drink
cieszyć się
his wife said
(enjoy Sophia said)
I got up and took a plate
and filled my plate with food
and Sophia poured me tea
with milk and sugar
I sat on the sofa
beside her
sensing her knee
touch mine
then her thigh
(all hopefully far
from her father's eye).
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 3:21 AM UTC
Don’t Defund the police and don’t say all capitalism has got to go
Lets be honest, your research is little and there’s lots you don’t know
Capitalism, ain’t here, its Neo-Liberalism’s the name of your fear
BUT THE BOTTOM LINE IS, THE SYSTEM IS YOUR PEER.
Okay so the voting system is kind of whack
But where’s your money gone to and who do you back?
Whenever there’s a bandwagon you might jump on board
When you hear “Anti-Racist”, you applaud
But on Black Friday you open doors,
You leap right into the Capital Maws
Here’s the truth, here’s the fact
You little post, it won’t do jack
When every other step you take is on the beaten track
Being, its more than a Scene, and that’s there’s crack
WAIT THOUGH! DON’T JUST RUN!
HAVE YOU NEVER HEARD OF DAEDALUS AND HIS SON?
Jheeze, one Act an Actor makes not
If you’re a quintessential ‘Alternative’, you’re still a robot
You’ve an arrogance of rightness, that’s what you’ve got
The saddest thing is, so does your Despot
So maybe there’s a chance your desktop’s got more than social functions
Maybe humility with clarity would yield a better unction
Than screaming for the death of those with a truncheon
Yes they do bad, but they also do good,
Many aren’t here, when for their children, they should
They’re at work and in stress, or the in grace of Grim’s hood
When the **** hits the fan they run towards it, I ask if you would?
The point is to remember the good, and from this then grow
Not to dismember what’s built, and from bliss go below
Jun 3, 2020
Jun 3, 2020 at 10:09 AM UTC
Amen to that, be gone you fool,
back to your ivory, gold plated,
tacky palace condo in the sky,
with your iron curtain mail order
bride, dumb and dumber sons
and the allegedly quite embarrassed
by their father, attractive daughters.
The wrongly booted former
head of the FBI, Sir James
may hold the iron truncheon needed
to batter down the House Of Trump.
Sir James the hero deserving of our
respect and lasting admiration,
the man that may free our nation,
from the fool that would be King,
the imposter sitting on the throne
of the Kingdom of America,
a clown not fit to rule, more fittingly
cast as the lowly Court Jester.
The wheels of reason and justice
will be slow to turn and no doubt
Trump will do a good deal more
tap dancing on his own male member,
to shock and amuse us and of course
continue to scare the living hell out
of the entire world.
While giving the press field days of
never ending "Special Breaking News
Reports" to frighten and blow our minds.
Yes indeed, the Circus has truly come
to town, and the petulant corpulent clown
with the orange fright wig and baggy suits,
he's the star attraction in the center ring.
He lacks a funny repertoire of "Clown Stuff"
but he sure can lie, and his slight of hand
and patented brand and bull **** walk and
talk is completely beyond historical compare.
Hurry, hurry, hurry folks, step right up
and get your ticket, the Circus is in town
and sadly in full public view.
May 18, 2017
May 18, 2017 at 3:29 AM UTC
Tyres and trash climbing to four long stories high
burning the dynamo of governments made
from variegated beliefs in sharing seats
unspent people divided by calculated fear
and farm implements from backyard fences
to break the back of steel helmets and
rubber truncheon policies.
Piled high on the side-walks of history
they gather in tight knots yet untangled
before water canons and formations
of advancing barricades of brutal regimes
seated around, round glossy tables
of disagreement.
Nothing works right if a lone spanner
finds its way into the giant machinery
that rolls over people down a roadway
of dissent. Freedom is not plugged
into any powered source if unaccepted
in the lone man's spark of will.
Soon the doorways of flight
will open and haste will chase
the suited gentry of harsh cross-hair policies
into pockets of safety within
other brutal regimes.
Fly now while you can
the plugs will be pulled shortly
and the day will descend into darkness
Hellfire will close in around you
if you wait to cling to power
that is not yours. Run now. Run.
Fly. Disappear. Kaput. Finito.
Author Notes
We go West now. Just coming from deep South.
© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved.
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 12:32 AM UTC
bludgeon our minds
addled by apathy.
cudgel us into comatose.
the sixth extinction
we couldn't be bothered
to prevent.
blind submission
to the tradition
of the truncheon.
throw our bodies
in the trenches,
the mass grave
we dug
with our own hands.
dirt still clinging
beneath the nails
of fingers raking
our psyches.
buried beneath ennui.
cover our corpses,
naked and exposed,
with ten tons of soot
and ash. strike
from the pages
of history
the utter depravity
of the world's
cruelest creature:
humanity.
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 11:42 PM UTC
*god, if only the english could un-numb their R, and return to the rattle-snake trill... what wonders could be born... every time i hear an english person pronounce the R... i think they're about to swollow their tongue, as if rolling it backwards to numb the R... yes... swollow... swo-swo... only cockneys of east london say swa-swa swansey... ***** deep in essex you: ooh... ah, eric cantona... swollow, akin to saying the word: slow... rather than slough (berkshire, burp-shy-err)... **** me english is fun, it's like owning a g.i. jone action finger, and still playing with it aged 34... compared to all other languages (notably the european ones), english is like play-dough... you can **** with it so much that you can almost forget being bilingual; and no, whatever the upper-crass tell you... trilling an R is not a posh thing... it's talk of the 2nd serprent in the garden... the rattlesnake who warns you, rather than tempts you to try and eat from the tree he's wrapped around.*
two words that spring to mind,
out of the blue;
words that sound better in a native tongue
than in an acquired tongue
of saxon descent
mingled with norman -
the words?
military instruments -
(a) originally maczuga
but with my diacritical stressors:
máczūga...
i give it a rest there making
the foreign word sound better,
after all, we have alternatives:
cudgel, truncheon, cosh, nightstick
& bludgeon...
still... the m'ah-choo-g'ah (ga-ga)...
i don't know... but i know what sounds
better in
(b) topór (acute o? t'oh-poor),
meaning? axe... now tell me the foreign
word sound more grave
than the native word?
the (a) argument
has worthy counterparts, but (b)?
tell me you wouldn't feel a shiver
hearing topór,
when otherwise hearing axe?
p.s.
the same with the word
for hammer -
i.e. młot (mmm-what?) -
of **** me, the tool has a baby,
the belittled henryk młotek miodowicz
(henry - little hammer - honkeysuckling).
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 7:47 PM UTC
MOTECUHZOMA
Now, Hungry Prince, let’s brace for weighty words.
You know that since our founding fathers’ reign
Our kingdoms have been linked like tilting twins,
Sharing the fruits and frowns of war alike,
Two striding shanks, each foot outreaching each,
My Mexicans, the eagles of this island,
Across the lake, your leopards of Texcoco,
Dainty Tlacopan third and least of all.
CUITLAHUAC
But, since the death of wise Hungry Coyote-
Your father- one alone has hitched the wind,
One arm engirdling our fractious state,
Which on one mighty truncheon hops her way.
MOTECUHZOMA
Our Triple Alliance therefore is dissolved.
Now must this galled umbilical be clipped,
Tlacopan liquidated for our bullion,
And you to trudge your solitary trail,
With gods’ best blessings for your bond and bail.
HUNGRY PRINCE [aside]
Oh, let my heart freeze up at this cold news,
For if this tongue should blab the ****** thoughts
These staunchless chambers seal inside my chest,
The tyrant should extract this swollen fruit,
And make my skull the drinking cup of God.
Thus should I truly mirror this prodigy-
A heartless sap, who’s plainly lost his head.
TLACAELEL
Hungry Prince,
Take aim at only what is possible,
For you and I alike both know the fancy
Of human justice only enters where
The pressure of necessity is equal,
And that the stout and rivalrous exact
All that they can, the weak grant what they must.
Of gods we do believe, of men we know,
That by a natural proclivity,
Wherever they can wield the whip, they will.
This primal rule was not drawn up by us,
Nor were we first to heed its nascent call.
The trail’s long blazed, and we do but inherit
This trait, and shall bequeath it to all time,
Content to know that you and all mankind,
If once enfranchised vast as we are now,
Would do as we now do.
Exit all but Motecuhzoma and Hungry Prince.
HUNGRY PRINCE Thus it must be,
Since thus you have declared it for a rule.
And though this outlook seems the sophistry
Of inharmonious and immoderate minds,
Who will say ‘no’ when you have said ‘it’s so?’
MOTECUHZOMA
Do not return, when taxmen come to call,
And whine that I require too much of you,
Since now you nod assent to my decree.
You know the fortune of capricious war:
Today for you, tomorrow it’s for me. Exit.
HUNGRY PRINCE
Then revel it, old ruffian, while you may.
Tomorrow’s but a fitful sleep away. Exit.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 11:55 AM UTC
The truncated puzzle:::
Her tongue’s truncheon sits solid
at the ready (to respond)
Her coarse heart,
pumps deftly in defiance of a mind’s eye
She is the gracile figurine
**The bubblewrap warms her steady
She is porcelain smoke in a midnight room
In defiance of
any fingerprint (cryout)
... oh that visage!!!
... oh obfuscated view!!!
You must
Feign surprise when i can see right through an image of you reflected in glass
wide-eyed, unwatered and
::unmoved::
**Her Limbal Ring, diamond stone display
still she is unsatisfied**
another inward, in-word retreat.
for her braille heart untouched
**forever she fears punctuation
Endings.**
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 10:36 PM UTC
#1
A dark September of the rising sun, lay it
Think on Nature’s belly, gaze to wide, and wide forget
All about the open, a shutter and a swelling,
As frost upon a filament, snapped and waving round
This cord could pluck amorous sound
Now it’s fat and dead vibration
Swallowed by Nature, her acoustics.
#2
He said I dreamt we made love on moss
Quickly his nature for it longs
Before and thence thereafter
Battered his own skull, the truncheon of those blast desires
All of their dreams, disillusioned by a rotting cream
Before he ate so gluttonously
And loath to think so freely.
#3
In the throes of such blanket miseries
He was a mountain climbing itself
Taillights seeking headlights
Middle of the line, seeking the end
Though this absolution of Dark September
Wretched and cold, has months as he miles
Towards the snow of Darkest November.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
Some wield their guns, all uniformed up
some a stun gun, a pistol on the hip, a truncheon like a symbol of their machismo sticking up out their shiny belt
a shiny peaked hat with shiny polished boots
a multi coloured car with flashing lights and sirens
this is the law all tooled up
and some of them can be so far from lawful, and so far from intelligence,
you never can tell what kind of lawman just pulled you over
but beware, they may well be having a bad day, and your innocence is the last thing on their mind, and they will fume that you may well be going to get away.... from them and yes, some of them do take it as very personal indeed.
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 12:29 PM UTC
**My labido uncontrollable,
wild eyed and sick
I want to give you a third degree tear
with my relentless truncheon ****
I wanna **** you so hard
I split you in two
Leave you shaking
and *** all over you
Its not enough
just to give you a taste
I wanna ruin you
And leave you a waste
See I'm a monster
Known as the creep
And ******* of yours
Are what I will reap
Its not my concern
If I leave you in pain
Blood or *** I'm not fussed
As long as I'm making it rain**
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
Oh ****** detested fly,
I do hate you so,
From the gossamer that is your wings,
To your greenish, blue-black glow.
With your thousand-eyed empty stare
Inflaming my disgust.
Oh ****** detested fly
Die you must!
To say its nothing personal
Would be an outright lie.
I hate you with a hate so pure
As you light upon my pie!
The vermin oozing from your feet,
Contaminate the lovely crust!
Oh ****** detested fly
Die you must!
Perhaps a mighty truncheon
I'll swing with my righteous hand.
Perhaps I'll blast you off the wall
With a well aimed rubber band.
However I dispatch you hence,
On this you may place your trust...
Oh ****** detested fly,
Die you must!
How fine when your mangled torso
Is delivered to the trash,
And serenity descends once more
Upon my corned beef hash,
And all within my kitchen,
Is safe from your probing lust.
This is why, detested fly,
Die you must!
Jul 30, 2022
Jul 30, 2022 at 3:56 PM UTC