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Omnis Atrum Aug 2012
Don’t think I’m trying to make or break you spirit
Just giving you a thought from my soul, if you would only hear it,
I can’t fully express (or repress) exactly what it is I think
So I babble incoherently and leave my decision on the brink.
I can’t decide if I should drop my pride and let the words flow
But a fear far worse rises of sad surprises and having to let you go,
So I stand back though I feel you close and I try to leave you be
But I know I can’t conceal or forget the words you’ve said to me.
So let me know (or find a way to show) exactly what I should do
But know as soon as I leave I find myself lost without you,
If you could just see a glimpse or peek for just a second of my mind
And what’s inside then you would know all thoughts for you are kind.
Only protecting (but not correcting) when I think I should step in
Because I’ve been in the same place and I’ve felt that hurt, my friend,
And I don’t want anyone to feel a pain so real, especially not you
Ignoring potential ulterior motives you know every word I say is true.
I swear without err that I couldn’t miss you more when you’re not here
But I’m fighting back fears when you’re holding me near whispering secrets in my ear,
And I’ve told you truly you hold more beauty that all of the stars in the night
Though you show it, I guess you don’t know it, or this knowledge you seem to fight.
(Who could forget her covered in glitter with sweet revenge in her eyes?)
But you’ve got this kid confused and blurry no matter how hard I try
To figure you out, your words still seem like an undecipherable code
That I try to map out and reconstruct in an abstract uneven ode.
I’m not playing, only saying that whether my words seep through or not
That you need not fear, because I’ll be here, my promise I haven’t forgot,
And when it ends, as it inevitably will, and you feel nothing but hurt and pain
I’ll soften my tone, and tell you you’re never alone, and you’re safe in my arms again.

A lifetime of waiting in wonder if you were really true
A trillion seconds of wishing my worries I could subdue,
Countless nights spent praying that you would become real to me
But a moment in your arms and worries are but a distant memory.

I have spent the greater portion of my life searching for a person that has certain distinguishable qualities. I have often been told that my standards were unreachable. I have spent years defining unconditional love, the difference between love and infatuation, and in general what love is. I was not until I met you that I was able to distinguish one emotion from another figure out what I had been missing all along. Since I met you I now know that love is:

When their heartbeat reverberates inside your very soul. When you find the answers to all of the questions of the world inside their eyes. When the only desire that you have is to fulfill all of their desires. When your body trembles at its inability to contain all of the emotions that are trying to burst forth from within you. When their voice sounds sweeter than any angelic melody could ever desire to. When you are dreaming of them and upon waking you try as hard as you can to get back to sleep because you cannot wait until you actually get to see them again. When they are the first thing that you think of in the morning and the last thing that you think about before going to sleep. When you try so hard to conceal how you are lost in bliss when you see them smile. When every touch and caress makes your heart race faster than you thought possible. When you wish you could lose yourself for an eternity in every kiss. When every day spent with them passes by in a moment and you find yourself wishing you were with them again. When your biggest fear is waking up and not finding them next to you. When your greatest desire is to hold them close. When all of the great problems of the world become minor details. When you search constantly for a stronger word because you know that love could not possibly encompass everything that you feel. When you know in your heart that you could drown in a single tear that they cried. When you would give up everything else just to hear them say "I love you" and know that they meant it. When you know that there is no one else in the world more beautiful than the person you hold dear. When you cannot help but smile when you think back on the memories you have made.  When you plan out every moment of that special day just so it will be as memorable as possible to them. When the only reason that you have left to fear death is that you would be without them. When you know that to hurt them would be the greatest crime that you could ever commit. When you realize that these words do not do justice to the meaning behind them.

Yet…even though those words cannot fully express how I truly feel…I still use them for lack of a way to show you to a further extent.

I love you. I love your kisses. Your smile. When you tell me that all that matters is us. That the rest of the world could fall apart and as long as we have each other that we'll be fine. That little thing you do when you think no one is looking. The way you lay there and stare at me for hours on end. Not needing to say anything. The way you smile because you know that it makes me happy, even if you don't want to. The way you call me just to see what I’m up to...even if you already know. The way you act surprised even if I’ve ******* up and you already know what's going to happen. The way that you look so innocent when you lay there sleeping. The way you laugh at me when I’m acting ******* just so I won't feel bad. That look you give me. The way that we argue about who loves who more. The stupid things we do when we're bored. The way that you make me feel complete. The way you hold me so tightly. The way you make me feel like I’m the one protecting you instead of the other way around. How it seems like I’m not alone when you're here. How you pour out your soul because you know I won't ever use any of it against you. The love you give, the hope you continue, the happiness you sustain.

A thousand thoughts of you are but a sand in time
but those thoughts of you are always in my mind,
Swirling slowly, completely through, even to my soul
and these fragments of thoughts of you are what makes me whole.
I piece them all together as hard as it may be
so I can remember every moment since you said yes to me,
And as I get lost in these memories deep in my heart’s core
I think in bliss of how in time there will be so many more.
I piece my life together like a puzzle full of truth
but the puzzle now can make no sense without the thought of you,
The only time I’m more confused is when I’m lost within your eyes
Because I’m lost within the one that I love to be beside.
I have eternal comfort when I’m holding you tight
But even that eternity must end when I let you go at night,
And even though I leave alone, I leave with a smile
Because I know before I see you again, it will only be a while.
The happiness you’ve brought to me this poem cannot explain
Because even now I can’t tell you how much I’ve gained,
Ever since that night when you said that you’d be mine
So I just wanted to let you know that I have the best valentine.

puzzles are easily put together, codes are easily deciphered, riddles are easily solved, questions are easily answered. the things created by the mind of man can be easily solved by the mind of man. it is only the questions that words cannot be found for that cannot be answered.

if a heart could cry out in an audible tone then i am afraid that i would go deaf from the constant murmur that would be produced from the depths of my chest. if love was an object i am afraid that i would tuck mine away forever so that such an irreplacable treasure would not become worn with time. if time could stop itself i am afraid where i would be found when it did so. if sleep could lash out and attack me for ignoring it for so long i am afraid that it would never cease its assault. if errors made were corporeal then i am afraid that i would lock them away forever in an inescapable prison to never be seen again. if my apologies grew limbs i am afraid they would die from exhaustion from constantly running from my heart to your ears. if my desire could be contained i am afraid no container would be found capable of storing such a great mass. if it was possible for me to find that which i seek i am afraid that it would dissolve and leave me without the one that none can replace. if i could tell you everything that i feel i am afraid that you would think me truly mad. if all my fears dissolved i am afraid that i would have nothing left to run from and would be found standing still. if i should be found standing still i am afraid that i would give all i have to give. and if i gave my all i am afraid that it would all be for nought and i would be found where i once was, without...

my father recently told me that i run from everything. i follow some "run and gun" pattern as he described it. he does not know how right he truly was. i could not explain it to him just as much as i cannot fully explain it to myself. but to put it simply...i fear. i fear love because i fear that it will always end as it has in the past. i fear confrontation because in the end someone always ends up hurt. i fear sleep because i cannot control the dreams that are created by my own mind. i fear hope because i am afraid that i will be disappointed. i fear my emotions because i am afraid that they will become greater than what i can control. i fear closeness because distance will inevitably set in. i fear looking into your eyes because you may see how i truly feel. that you may feel sympathy, that you may look down on me for admitting what is known to be true but never stated, that you will see how much you have helped me through what i could not do on my own, that you will see through my eyes and into my soul and be overwhelmed.

and though i fear many things, and though because i cannot often be found because i run from all those things which i do fear, there are some things that i have never feared and i doubt i ever shall. i have never feared your voice. i have never feared being with you. i have never feared losing what we have developed through the years. i have never feared that anything will ever come between us. i have never feared that the love i feel for you should ever subside. i have always given you my heart in whole because there is no fear that you will ever break it. and though i know that i have never nor will ever find a greater friend than you i do not fear that i should ever have to search for another. in a poem that i once wrote to you the words "all i have ever wanted, but more than i could ask for" still stand true. you mean the world to me. and if you were not here i have no idea where i would be right now. i just wanted to thank you for being there for me through everything that i've gone through. you have brought light to a once dim heart. you are the only proof that i need that there are those out there deserving all that i have.

these words mean nothing without the meaning behind them.

smile love, just smile. i will make you the happiest woman in the world. i will give you everything that you've ever wanted. i will make you forget the entities of sadness and regret. i will love you and you will love me, i'll make you lose yourself in the everlasting bliss, never leave you without a smile. i'll leave you wondering how you lived your life before now. he will fill your head with empty promises...

in time i have come to learn that love is a many faceted colossus. and depending on the angle of approach and point of view you can see many different things in it. that is why most people view love in different ways. it's not that their love is less true, it's just they have been one of the unfortunates that has been led to view love from the wrong perspective. finding love is easy if you approach it from one of the more easily accessible viewpoints. but if you work at it hard enough you can gain a vantage point that shows you the true beauty of love. the whole of this gargantuan emotional construct will be within your heart and mind. and once you have conquered the understanding of this which some might call an obstacle you can share what you have learned and teach those who were so unfortunate to not achieve what you have achieved. because although each facet complicates the next, and every love is different, is the goal not always the same? to extend your boundaries of happiness with another past what you could accomplish by yourself.

...and when you are left unhearted wondering why this love has collapsed upon itself. i will simply tell you that you saw love as a simple emotion when it was really a complicated goliath. and as you cannot build wonders out of empty boxes, you cannot build love with nothing but empty promises.

and there was a man. the frigid chill of winter blew behind him pushed him forward into the warm embrace that stood before him. and he knew that never again would he be able to turn around and face the cold void that he had left behind. he would never be able to follow the trail of frozen tears to find what he had once called his own on the other side of the blizzard. once he had found his way out of the storm he knew that he would never again have to feel such pain, such numbness. but the warm embrace that held him now made him forget all of those things. because that from which he came was so cold the warmness he now felt was euphoric. it lit a spark in his eye and caused him to glow. and of this fact alone he is forever grateful.

All i want is to be with you
but i don't know how to let you know,
if somehow you found out and knew
all my worries and fears would go.
If the wind would whisper in your ear
this secret that i'm forced to keep,
and all of it you could hear
so much pressure would be lifted off of me.
My unease to tell has filled me with disbelief
usually it is so easy for me to throw it all way,
but your friendship I do want to keep
and I can't find the way to tell you today.
I can't just let go like times before
there's something about you that makes me care,
I feel like this is something more
but with you this secret i can't share.
maybe i'm afraid you might shy away
or I'll just ***** everything up again,
but if i ever found out that you would stay
I'd break down and tell you right then.
All I want is to be with you
but I don't know how to let you know,
If somehow you found out and knew
new fears would come when the old ones go.

when you lay there staring up at me i realize
that i can almost see your soul through your eyes,
i can see all your desires that i'm trying to ignore
because i'm so afraid you'll say "don't hold me anymore".
the love i feel for you will surely outlast the world
but in this love there is no lust even as our bodies were curled,
i  just want to hold you and know that you are near
to move any further than this would again spark the fear.
my mind was running in circles as we laid there so long
so confused, so petrified, so afraid to do something wrong,
but even though these feelings were welling up inside of me
every time you smiled i felt nothing but relief.
knowing that you were there sheltered me from all that i hide
and hearing "i love you too" makes me forget what i've been denied,
makes me forget all but the wholeness that i feel when i'm with you
so whole because i know and feel that every word you say is true.
So here's to a friend that i know i never will forget
and not letting love and closeness turn into regret,
here's to the emotions for her that i can no longer store
she's everything i've ever wanted, but more than i could ask for.

Yesterday I knew the answers to all the problems on my mind
as you layed there trying to keep from falling asleep,
I found myself looking forward and not behind
and sharing these secrets i thought i would always keep.
But I must have stirred too much or breathed too hard
because your eyes slowly opened up again
and i knew the feelings i felt i no longer had to disregard
as you, as if lost in dream, looked into my eyes, my friend.
You sitting there so beautiful, a smile crossed your face
I knew there was no concealing the smile on my own
in this complete comfort that i know i can't replace
no mat
THERE'S RUDOLPH, FROSTY, SANTA CLAUS AND GOOD OLD EBENEEZER
THERE'S CAROLS SUNG BY EVERYONE FROM KISS ON THROUGH TO WHEEZER
THERE'S CD'S OUT FROM NAT KING COLE, THE BOSTON POPS HAVE TWO
THERE'S  ONE OUT  NEIL DIAMOND WHICH IS STRANGE BECAUSE OLD NEIL'S A JEW

THE STORES HAVE TINSEL EVERYWHERE, THEIR TREES TOO,LOOKING NICE
THERE'S WRAPPING PAPER, CHRISTMAS LIGHTS AND EVEN PLASTIC ICE
THEY ATTACK YOUR SENSES CONSTANTLY, THEY MUST THINK I'M A FOOL
FOR ALL THIS STUFF IS ON DISPLAY, BEFORE THE KIDS GO BACK TO SCHOOL

THERE'S A RASTAFARIAN SANTA CLAUS WITH DREADLOCKS KNOWN AS "STONEY"
GENETICALLY ALTERED TURKEY MEAT THAT TASTES JUST LIKE BALONEY
PEOPLE DON'T BUY CHRISTMAS GIFTS THEY SEEM TO JUST GIVE MONEY
SO THEY GO SHOPPING BOXING DAY, AND THIS I FIND QUITE FUNNY

THE CHARITIES ARE ON THE PHONE AND AT YOUR DOOR EACH NIGHT
THEY WORK YOU WITH SOME CHRISTMAS GUILT, AND SAY "IT'S ONLY RIGHT"
TO DONATE TO UNFORTUNATES AND THEIR FOLKS NEED IT MOST"
AS THEY FLASH THEIR SMILES, FAKE I/D'S BEFORE THEIR PHONY BOAST

PEOPLE SHOP AND BUY AND BUY AND THEN THEY ALL RE-GIFT
MOST TIMES YOU'LL GET CHRISTMAS CAKE, THAT'S REALLY HARD TO LIFT
YOU WORK O.T. AND DO YOUR BEST, YOUR CHRISTMAS CASH TO SAVE
AND YOU SMILE WHEN YOU GET YOUR GIFT, AND IT'S THE ONE YOU GAVE

CHRISTMAS IS LESS FESTIVE AND TO ME IT'S GOTTEN RATHER CLINICAL
WITH SCHEDULES MADE AND SALES AND THINGS, IT'S MADE ME RATHER CYNICAL
TO SAY WHAT CHRISTMAS REALLY MEANS, I READ THOMAS ACQUINAS
BUT INSTEAD, I'LL USE A QUOTE FROM SHCULTZ'S PROPHET LINUS

..."AND SUDDENLY THERE WAS WITH THE ANGEL A MULTITUDE OF THE HEAVENLY HOST PRAISING GOD
AND SAYING "GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, AND ON EARTH PEACE, GOODWILL TOWARD MEN.""

AND THAT IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT....PLAIN AND SIMPLE.
Carrie Ross Dec 2011
Do you remember what’s her name?
From the Little Mermaid?
She was 50% octopus
30% Janet Reno
And 20% Elton John
Well, she used to be my choir teacher
Only I never really learned how to sing
Because I would spend each class period
Trying to avoid her tentacles
“LOUDER!
You sound like you’re underwater!”
Oh, I thought you already knew?
I hope you don’t think
I was trying to insult Elton
By comparing him to a monster
Because
For a witch
For a monster
She did have a great set of pipes
JesseK Apr 2021
If not death what could
spring roses from your
palm, if not my
departure what could
lift your eyes from
screen to mine.
If not change what could
erode at this Jericho of a friendship.
from Adroaldo

My brother,
my dear brother,
good Morning!
The dawn
show in your face
and shine in your life!
His days
are rich
of joy.
My love
and baby
Brother,
We are alive!
I have to tell you:
we are alive!
You
are not
alone!
You're
in my heart
and in my soul.
You're
Inside of me
and in the reflection of water.
You are a part of me
and I'm part
from you!
We are one
among
all others.
We do not
we are
alone.
That day
witness
our birth!
The dawn
realizes
our existence!
The fields
receive
our steps!
The world
to accept
our presence!
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
there are times
I try to tell you
One thing:
I am here!
Listen to me:
I am here!
You
are not
alone!
I need
hopelessly
from you.
I need
hopelessly
know you.
I need
hopelessly
being with you!
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
My tent
It's open
To you
If you want
hide yourself
this cold night.
My tent
it’s open
to you
if you want
trick
the fury of the wolves.
My heart
it’s on
to your heart.
My blood
is red
just like yours.
Nor time
cannot
erase it.
Neither life
can erase
that.
My brother,
who will be you
in this crowd?
Embrace the truth
or will be
Illusion?
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
realizes
the darkness
to come?
Realizes
the evil
now it is growing?
Hear the sound
thunder
far!
Hear the sound
saxophones
far!
Listening
the beating of wings
Grasshoppers!
Listen
to the shouts of the
angry mob!
The crowd
chasing
the insistent
hunger
for blood
between his teeth.
Everybody wants
a piece
of us.
Everyone wants
a pound
of our flesh.
They come
during
at night.
They come
during
the day.
They
never
sleep.
They
never
give up.
I see only
hate
in your eyes.
I see only
rebellion
in your eyes.
They are born
the murmurings
and strife.
They are the result
of anger
and hypocrisy.
They venerate
marble
idols.
Idols of gold,
silver
and bronze.
They cry out
a piece
of our land.
They require
even the sweat
of our foreheads.
No food
in this land
to sustain
for your
hunger
it is rampant.
There blanket
in this land
that heat
for your heart
it is the winter cold
more extreme.
There is no justice
in this land
satisfying
for expect
the greater evil
always prevail.
There is no reason
for none of this
happen
and yet
all
it happens!
Who
put our brothers
against us?
Who
he puts us against
our own brothers?
Who on this earth,
really,
It's us?
Who on this earth,
Really,
are they?
Who knows
which side is the
mirror?
All this hatred
not born alone
in the dunes.
All this anger
it does not grow alone
in the sand.
So who hate us so much
dearly beloved
brother?
Who, long ago
has played in
against each other?
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
someone, some time ago,
steals
all our cattle.
Someone, long ago
defiles
all our water.
Someone, some time ago
assaults
our dreams.
Someone, some time ago
Burn
all that's left us.
However, those who hate us
such a long time
beloved brother?
The guilt
all this
It is not yours.
The guilt
all this
It is not mine.
So who will
In fact,
all the blame?
Who will be,
after all, our
single accuser?
Who is coming
to steal
all our breath?
Who is coming
to destroy
our hopes?
Who
was born
a feud?
Who
was born
a simple lie?
Who crawls
among the lizards
desert?
Who conversation
with the stars
Infinity?
Who plot
against their
own brothers?
Who blasphemes
in the heavens
and the creator himself?
Who will be
our biggest
Killer?
Who will be
our biggest
opponent?
Who will be
our brother
unknown?
Who will go
breaking the silence
in this order so violent?
My brother,
I beg you to save me
these ***** streets.
I beg you to hold me
tonight
so cold and so dark.
I beg you to grant me
a simple prayer
in this momentary silence.
Someone plot
constantly
against us.
Someone
Want to see
our end.
My brother,
dearly beloved
brother,
Hug me
when the wind
It is too cold.
Hug me
when you hear
my sigh of pain.
My hands
tremble
cold and fear.
My bones
tremble
cold and fear.
My brother,
where will you be
Now?
You will be
inside cars
passing fast.
You will be
in shop windows
of expensive clothes shops.
You will be
the billboards neon
in downtown.
You will be
in advertisements
famous brand.
Where you
will,
my beloved brother?
The sound
thunder
gets closer!
Almost
explode
my heart!
My bones
tremble
cold and fear.
I hope
for something
not owes me explanation.
I hope
for something
I do not understand.
I hope
for something
it is a revelation.
May
arise
among cacti.
Surely,
grow
among the burned grass.
Maybe
it’s only
a dream.
Perhaps
more
a desire hidden.
My brother,
in this special day,
who will you be today.
In this special day,
where is
you today?
It will be you,
my brother,
my only friend.
It will be you,
my brother,
my greatest enemy?
Will you
brother, beside me
in this cold night?
Will you
Brother, with
in the angry mob?
My brother,
my dear
and beloved brother,
It will be you
That
Sleeping out in the open?
It will be you
that one that
Fight against the cold?
It will be you
that
you face the wolves.
It will be you
that
that protects your?
Who will be
You
my dear and beloved brother?
My brother,
I implore
receiving me.
My brother,
I beg
to listen to me.
My dear
and beloved brother,
accept me!
Notice me,
understand me
and shelter me.
Accept me
the way
that I am!
I receive
in his tent
on that cold night.
Accept me
Open arms
that night so dark.
I may welcome
in these days
so dark.
Protect me
these days
so terrible.
My love
and dear brother,
Hug me.
I need
much
you hold me.
I need
the air
you breathe.
I need
address
of your steps.
I need
hear
your hoarsely
same
whatever
for a moment fiddling.
Same
whatever
for a second measly.
It
does not say
absolutely anything.
It
tells me
absolutely everything.
I need
to listen
I open my heart
Even if
only
for a second.
My brother,
My dear
and beloved brother,
I feel
all the cold
ahead.
I see
all fear
what is not explained.
I need
so much
from you!
I need
that you
be around here
and warm me
If this cold
Persist.
I need
that you
protect me
case
all evil
I reach.
I need
so much
from you!
I need
to guide me
in this dense night.
I need
that hides me
the hungry wolves.
dissipating
all
my fears,
to wash
all
my sins,
to dry
even
my tears,
that fight
By me
with all his strength.
I need
both of you,
my dear brother.
I like both
powers play
his face again.
I would love
feeling
the skin again.
I need to both
hear
your voice again.
I need
to feel
your presence again.
I need
you to hold me;
and that this embrace is sincere.
I need you
to tell me
not to be afraid anymore.
I need you
to tell me
that will be all right!
The sound of thunder
It's deafening
and if ever closer.
The hunger of wolves
ceases neither
with the dawn.
I see whole cities
ablaze
on fire.
I see the darkness
blacker
take shape quickly.
I see food to perdition
satisfied
a flock of sheep.
I see the flock embrace the night
and join
in the pack.
I see wolves
and sheep
fraternizing.
I see them embrace
the full evil
in a night deal.
Before my eyes
finally
I see the end unfolding.
I hear the sound of thunder
finally
in its fullness.
There is no more
sell some
in my eyes.
I see millions
issuing his last breath
before my eyes.
My brother,
my dear and beloved
Brother,
how can I say
how much
I love you?
How can I say
how much
you’ll be missed?
How can I say
how much
I loved you in life?
How do I look
in your eyes
knowing that never see you?
Who put
this blood
in my hands?
Who put
this weapon
in my hands?
My dear
and loved
brother,
at where
will be
you?
Will be
you
in the cotton fields?
Will be
you
coal mines?
Will be
you
in the bar tables?
Will be
you
in lullabies?
Will be
you
the stone dungeons?
Will be
you
the yellow pages?
Will be
you
in the desert mountains?
Will be
you
in concrete forests?
Will be
you
in love letters?
Will be
you
in horror stories?
Will be
you
among the persecuted
or is
In between
Persecutors?
Will you
In between
The empty belly
or are
In between
who has everything?
Will you
In between
the most popular
or is
In between
Disposable?
Will you
In between
settlers
or is
In between
Colonized?
My brother,
my dear
And beloved brother,
will you
In between
Elected?
Will you
In between
The unfortunates?
Embrace
my
problems,
embrace
my
fights,
embrace
my
­­tears,
embrace
my
hiccups,
embrace
my
scars,
I pray that the Lord
in receive
open arms.
May the Lord
the accepted
at the end.
The King of kings
in receives
in his Kingdom.
I can hold you
finally
without fear.
I can love you
finally
without fear.
May we
we
to recognize
simply
as...

Brothers!
Dana Pohlmann Feb 2012
"I write poetry,"  you laugh,  "I can tell beautiful lies..."

Sadly clever, your decoys reaching out to the dendrites of trees
desolated by winter, fingertips in their severe shapes stroking

lungs turned inside out so that they might breathe for you
when the patterns of things become as unwoven as they seem

and a dark symmetry throws smoke across the mirrors. All the
mirrors are rippling, frail as moonlight on the ruptured skein

of whatever is left of the water and then only the good doctor
as you turn to undress before the open door, waits.

You whisper: "I will tell lies you will want to believe."
Deborah Downes Feb 2017
Like so many
Lemmings
they rush to southern climes for
greener pastures
year round golf a
Slower pace
Cheaper prices and
Tropical temperatures

Leathery
Tanned
Unnaturally taut and
Sun-spotted
they crowd the local haunts and
Clog the highways.

At best they tolerate whoever is not
Pensioned or
Privileged

At worst they ban the
Underage
Unfortunates
from their gated communities  
and social gatherings

The pendulum has swung from a time
when the Old were at the
Mercy of the Young
to the present
when Youth is
Oppressed by Senescence

Once democracy’s backbone they now wax
Conservative having obtained their
Slice of the pie

Now there is no pie
Mother Earth has been trampled to death and the
Toiling hands of those who
Stoke the fires of industry are
Blistered and discouraged
You don't have to be old in years to belong to this culture; and even if you are old in years, you don't have to adopt this lifestyle.
Alfred Vassallo Apr 2013
Can I illustrate beauty
without the help of my eyes?
Will I be able to see the sunlight
the clouds floating above
the marvel of the skies?

Having tried it and succeeded
I was absorbed with fascination.
The blind described as unfortunates
yet now I can enjoy the mystery of touch
become suspended with satisfaction.

I can touch anything with my eyes folded
from animals and other objects.
yet the human bodies are far better
they’re so warm and so soft
can’t be compared with other subjects.

Feeling bodies so atmospheric and tense
especially the sensation of a woman’s skin.
The touch of women’s flesh befitted my addiction
their faces, hips, thighs and legs
fondling them like playing the violin.

Touching flesh became my fixation
spending most time contemplating the feeling.
Night and days eyes shut in darkness
caressing bodies in my over imaginative mind
satisfactory, but not so accommodating.

Pictures, portraits and views for the eye
soft sounds, loud sounds for the ear and the mind.
I have touched pots and pans, table and chairs
establishing for good the power of feeling
the forbidden touch prudently refined.

              ----------

I didn’t notice anything not around me
I felt my whole behaviour very strange.
I was crouched at the foot of her body
what happened next was totally unexpected
it seemed my body was about to interchange.

My body was becoming entangled with hers
it felt like my hands and hers were divine.
Every time I touched her face I felt it on mine
same with messaging her thighs, stroking her legs
so frightened it sent shivers down my spine.
Nessa dieR Jul 2015
I simply can't
Time doesn't heal all wound.
"The wounds remain,
over time the mind,
protecting its sanity
covers them with scar tissue
and the pain lessens
but it never leaves"*
"...unrequited love does not die
it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides,
curled and wounded.
For some unfortunates,
it turns  bitter  and  mean,
and those who come after
pay the price for the hurt done
by the one who came before.”
2 quotes in one:
Rose Kennedy & Elle Newmark
Louise Aug 2016
Some times aren't perfect
and some things aren't meant to be.
Unfortunately.
Brian Oarr Jun 2012
Time was, when I thought it strong,
to hold back and block all my feelings.
Inestimable the emotional devastation
I doled out on those unfortunates who loved me.
How can you dam it up so?, said the therapist's stare,
still her empathy opened my mind to smiling,
chiseled my heart from the glacier.
And slowly I learned to act out my dreams,
the wounded clown learned to cry.
Pride bled in the thickets of human *******.
Now, when I dream of life, I am perfectly amazed,
my singular life drawn to those who loved me regardless.
If only we could read minds,
what we might find might not mightly suprise us.
Nuture made it so,
that our appearances might suggest our certainty on which way to go.


One sense
suggests we belong there.


One stare,
suggests admiration
or irritation.
Its all in our heads.


One sentence made,
even when we dont really mean it.
Its all in our heads.


Goals become unclearer
and more in number
as the seconds make us older.
Its all in our hands.


They say Fate can not be changed.
Truth is,
people say alot of things so that the things they are used to might not be changed.
Its all in our hands.


Life is not a slow walk.
The unfortunates might happen,
so long we can lift a leg,
the trophy is ours.


Everything we see,
both in the physical and spiritual realm
was created with the mind,
the Oven of the Future.


The future is there,
we are here,
our minds up here.
We are getting there.
Mitchell Mar 2011
connected by nothing
speaking to no one
time passing through itself
folding in on itself
Allowing oneself to breathe
Allowing oneself to let go
Allowing oneself to admit
that they will never fully no
the magazines that have been read
have been burning all this time
the drinks have been drunk
the drunks in their tanks
people asleep
are now awake
form is no friend
of
mine
i asked her out
she bought
expensive wine
whispers shivered naked across the cambridge lawn
i fell in love
with a damp and sullen log
connected
disconnected
in love
out of love
we are are different every minute
every second
thoughts that were once there
are there again
but in a different way
no mind has seen itself in the mirror
and it never will
as the bee buzzes
wings press themselves desperately, immaturely
forever in mourning
sour **** forlorn & burning
so you said I was crazy?
and then what did you do?
I cast a net into a white sea when no one was looking
and cried the rest of the day
because I knew to be understood
was to die all over again
only to be born again
in a world
where nonsense is the norm
and normal
is obscene & fat
and full of goose's wearing rose colored hats of hate
where broken bats blink blindly in deep caves
forgotten terraces where lover's broke themselves
in sand dune dixie cups illiterate unfortunates
whining wino's wish they were richer
and teacher's that fell in love
with knee capped teenage blisters
pencil pusher's punish themselves
for a lack of ill received love funds
Molly H. laughs like a fairy in a tale we all know
and we see coffee sprouts
while women cry in full pout
out of control
our world and out of it
the glimmer of a women's eye
is a man's only true prize
dazed in a haze of lack luster filibuster
a man released
is a man soon to be in death's seat
for the moon is nothing but a sliver of white light
when you sit alone on a dark black beach
with lapping waves, mind in full craze
and a conversation and corruption of love's maze
could it be?
could I see?
what it feels like to believe in life's magic tragicness
where fashion is to be naked
and nakedness is to die and be replaced by the computer
our own demise
was the mind's first ideal prize
dead from the beginning
solitude and a prize for 1st but never winning
tell grandma in spanish that I loved her
i see her face smiling, tired, and dead
i wish i could have seen her wed
but i wasn't there
i was gone
somewhere else saying i don't belong here
i don't see the sky
i don't see the waves
i don't believe in a truth seer's eyes
im not believing in me, I'm not believing in anyone
i see the sun, i see the fun, i see a fat ladies buns
but then i know i ain't around for the after party
or the after after party
i just see the rhythm in the earth
faster then i can see someone else pouring their milk
and the smile a woman you never met
but you know you've seen her before
the flick of a lip ring
the sing of a sing song ping
where the pong is fast then the ping
yeah you know about the last thing?
but wait
we've been waiting for so long for you baby
and i tell'er that were almost there
the sky ain't the limit and the limit ain't the ticket
where the neighbor says theirs trouble
but then when i think about it
i can't quickly say
but i know i'll leave and i don't know if I'll love again
or be jealous again
or hate again
or laugh again
but i tread through the hate, the seeds of black dust
the orange blossoms that come every day, every month
i carry on for the word not for myself
i ain't a martyr, i was never a good starter
for the milk man does his work
and the writer writes his words
and the roads are paved
and the teacher's teach the little one's
how to behave
but me
i didn't get much schooling
i was too busy fooling
with the back road marquees of a movie theatre
that was never meant to be
and i watched throughout the night
wonderin' to myself
how i got into this mess and who's fault was it
but it wasn't anyone's fault
just a miss hap, a hoax
so take no naps till day break
why can't some people take a joke?
Neuvalence Jul 2018
Death watches us all.
At our birth, death lies beyond sight
and is merely informed of our existence.
But as time progresses, death plods forth
from beyond the horizon to the fog’s end.
At that point, death watches,
looming in the distance,
standing, dark as night.
For the unfortunates death comes early.
For the over-extenders death waits patiently.
But for all, death comes.
We near death; death nears us,
counting down our every breath
until the last.
RW Dennen Aug 2014
This actually happened in Center City Philadelphia
in a actual setting along the underground Broad Street
giant concourse. We always had a few homeless people
surviving underground but an explosion of homelessness
occupied during the Bush Regime. It got so bad that police dogs were used to chase these unfortunates away...


There's a little bit of Bushville under Broad Street
between Spruce and City Hall
There's a little bit of calamity between idle minds
and idle hours, between quick-*****-ground-naps,
police harsh tongue slaps and paper wraps
strewn helter skelter all about,
between dismal gatherings
of few laughter and just for basic survival

There's a little bit of Bushville
in saddened eyes and some veterans' ***** faces;
long unkempt beards
and bodies that lay limp in rags under cardboard in fetal
positions

There's a little bit of Bushville in hearts of broken promises
There's a little bit
of Bushville in ***** stench
and ***** walls and ***** ground made black

There's a little bit of Bushville in all our conscious-hearts,
too much, too much to do
Under Broad Street in Philly lies a large concourse
where people take the Broad Street Subway between
Spruce Street and City Hall.
Dada Olowo Eyo Apr 2019
A million idiots,
Are more powerful,
Than a billion eggheads,
That slept on their senses.
SeyiEagle May 2015
A gift from above they are.
Tender lilies who sprawl in skies beyond.
Like needs , they seldom a-bound.

A cause of laughter to those that are lucky.
An Eyre of hope for the newly joined.
But, bone of tears to the unfortunates.
The sole reasons for joint couples.

Joy unspeakable they brought to homes.
Some choose to walk in twos.
Many others embrace to walk alone.

Like Golden fish, that holds no grudge,
Like birds, who have no worries of greed,
Like teddies, with utmost friendliness,
Like Arrows in the hand of a warrior,
So are Children.

they are a rare gem.
they deserve our love and care.
Happy Children's Day.
Sadia Tuba Apr 2017
Rearing a fierce rain inside.
Wild, crazy, hungry,
yet humble;
Fulfilled like taking a day's last meal!

Escaping from the human language,
obscure talk among clouds.
Sweet scream across the sky.
No grim,
just waiting for sudden rain stream.

Lonely rain drops,
falling in the midnight.
Whispering to my drowsy soul.
Chilly wind touches the salted cheeks.
Melting my frosty pole.

The pure melody of rain is not for an impure heart;
Though the pure always meets an impure!
I wonder how thousand fates are composed in one hand,
Some unfortunates never find the cure.

Living in an earthly delusion,
Still thinking like a new comer;
Who expects again.
But end of the day,
The lonely soul bears that same fierce rain!
Ryan Gonzalez Jan 2015
I stare at my computer screen
hearts beating rapidly back
the stamping of feet at a stadium

Some hearts are glowing
filled with radium
some show a mass of white fat
too many years eating fast food
some are near death
flies soaring over a gray mass
anticipating the final thump

Occasionally I see healthy hearts
scrolling down my screen boldly
on a journey of self-experimentation

I let them breeze by on their voyage
careful to only pick the unfortunates
grabbing them from the screen
as if they were an apple on a shelf

I empty the heart of radium
letting the poison fill me instead
causing an earthquake in my head

I eat the white fat off the heart
feeling it travel down my esophagus
like a delayed release cyanide pill

I swat the flies off the gray mass
holding it to give my energy
my hair whitens and skin loosens

Collapsing with a loud crash
my face staring at the screen
holding tears back like rowdy children
Megan Apr 2014
in the middle of my eighth grade year
by unfortunates there was the new girl.
her name was simple.
simple could be the word to describe her.
however simple meaning anything but plain.
she was thin, tall
a wisp of a girl
with short blond hair,
and bright blue eyes.
she was kind.
the popular ate her up right away,
changed her,
put her through trials versus herself
made her into one of their own
a shell of a former simple girl
where simple used to be the word to describe her,
however simple meaning anything but plain.
with a former simple name
who still is thin, and tall
a wisp of a girl
who was kind
who still has short blond hair
but empty blue eyes.

|m.s.
Dada Olowo Eyo May 2018
On either side of backward mountain,
Lay two valleys impeding any kind of success,
On this side the people of state are too hungry and angry,
The oppressors of state are gluttons, too satisfied to lift a finger on the other side.
The suppressed masses of Nigeria have to think on empty stomachs, too angry to be innovative and much frightened to even ask for their sovereignty back...
This incurable wave of unclean faces
parade outside my fragmented window
holding their hands out in desperation
waiting for the sirens all clear command

Above the heads of these unfortunates
grey skies are laced with despondency
whist I dwell in the tower of hateful things
my sweet brothers do wait and prey for me

It is far too hot in here
this is where evil gives birth
this is the place I must destroy
smash it's filthy walls to the ground

The disciples of war hide deep
in bunkers made of lead dense
an underpass to the towers roots
****** the last refugees of hope

Stand fast my brothers
for I will not disappoint
this day I do now commit
all I have for the faith in good

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
When are you going to admit to yourself that he never took that **** in the first place?
That he never believed those sullen faces you wore
Or the stories you told about your broken heart
That had been “true” but sounded so far-fetched and wrong!
He never felt sorry for you
Or thought about you in the middle of the night
No, he never would have!
He hadn’t wasted a tear over you
And that wasn’t because boys didn’t usually cry
But because he had no ******* point to!
For his infrequent sympathy
You were an unlikely choice
Didn’t you know!
And all the more time you pray for him to give in
To want to hold you in his arms because he thought you needed someone
How are you so capable of that trickery!
You need someone like you need air
You need someone to hold you and tell you it’s alright, it’s okay
Yet you plan on playing them and at long last devouring their sole love for life itself!
You’re a monster
A parasite
A control freak!
It’s someone’s sincere grief that stimulates your iron fist around the more unfortunates’ throats
You’ll flatten them for sympathy and pity
Until their necks snap!
No, I’m glad he saw through your disguise
I’m glad he saved himself from the pain in the end
When you would hurt him more than you ever were to begin with!
Ryan Jan 2017
Is love so elusive
as to never be found
i wonder why its so
do others flee from me
repulsed by my presence
or does distain for others
reside deep inside
and erode those unfortunates
the few that I touch
until they can no longer hold on
and their grasp is dissolved
and I'm here alone again
what inside me causes this
how can I change it
I feel so isolated
as to be driven insane
like a prisoner in solitary confinement
scribbling on black walls
for years spent suffering
silently waiting for reprieve
free me from this *******, Lord
Only God can save me
from a life of anguish amidst nothing
but the sound of my own breath
how i long to know, Lord
why you gave this life to me
and how i can serve you
and return it with interest
pain is a familiar friend
and sorrow is often my company
how i desire joy to come to me
and remain forever more
but joy will not embrace me
it will only visit briefly
and reject my pleas to stay
as if I have somehow injured it
and finally given it an excuse
to leave me to my tears
Y Rada May 2014
Don’t you ever see,
What you have done to me?
I always think of you,
Every moment, through and through.

In the beginning of the day as I wake,
I see your face before the morning breaks.
In the evening, after the sun goes down,
I pray for you before to sleep I lay down.

Even though from me you are far away,
I desire that you’re with me from day to day.
Holding and embracing you in my arms I envision,
I know, I know they’re part of my illusions.

It’s hard for me to say “I hate you”,
And deep inside I love you, I really do.
I tried to vanish you from my mind,
But in my heart it’s you I find.

To another man I searched for the love I wanted,
But I guess my wishes are not granted.
For what’s in my heart I cannot deceive,
The feelings especially for you I conceive.

I am one of those women, who admired you so much,
Yielding for your love and for your touch.
I am one of those unfortunates by whom you cannot love,
For I know there’s someone out there you wanted to have.

So, here I am sitting in a corner,
Certified member of the group Wall Flowers.
It’s you I always wanted to watch,
While you are still seeking for your perfect match.

I’m hurt when you never even glanced at me,
But at least looking at you is free.
I don’t mind if the oil price increases,
But I do care if to me you give only your kisses.

I see your eyes sparkle when you speak her name,
And mine are getting misty for your love I cannot even claim.
It’s enough for me that you know who I am,
The truth is, inside me I’m having a spasm.

I don’t know why for you I fell,
Even to myself the reasons I cannot tell.
It just happened one day,
That I felt something for you in a different way.

I admit I’m a great pretender,
And you are a Heart Breaker.
Leaving those women weeping,
Never minding what they are feeling.

It’s hard for me to act as if everything’s normal,
And deep inside me, I’m having a burial.
I am not mourning for the dead love from you,
I’m grieving for the wasted affection I wanted to share with you.

If I continue to cherish you, I know the consequences,
But still I took the risk by taking the game of chances.
Now, the time wheel is still turning,
And WE don’t know what the future may bring.
I wrote this when I was probably 14 or 15.
Goodness! This was 12 years ago? haha
Brent Kincaid Jun 2018
My car won’t work,
I’m totally *******!
It’s acting totally rude;
Imbued with a bad attitude.
Like a metal horse
That needs to be shoed
It’s behavior is almost lewd
Waiting around for a rich guy
To come and be the dude
I checked to see if the problem is
Lack of water or life-giving crude,
Oil that is, Texas tea.
It’s silly to expect wealth of me
Always broke, an automotive joke.

All I can do is sit and croak
Like the frog on a log spoke
And since my car chose to croak
I gave my mechanic a poke.
He decided my wallet was too full.
Now I’m in the thrall of a lull
With too much idle time to ****.
I’ll pay the bill, I know I will,
But still, this whole thing is a pill.
It’s not that I hate holding still,
It’s just that I have so few frills
And this is financially uphill.
I will make it work somehow
But for now, it’s back to the plow
That I’ll pull but don’t know how.
A result of the here and the now.

I may just be whining, not sure
But I see no ready-made cure
For now my sense of loss is pure
And there may be no sinecure.
I just have to grin and endure.
I walk and I wait and I cuss
Waiting for the ever-late bus
To ride with other unfortunates.
At least I’m not on a date
And being embarrassed to state
The case of my pauperish state.
Really, none of this is great.
The sky was lost in colors, everything was snowy white, sparkling with whitish clouds that were arranged on top of other pearly ones, which tended to break from the high stupor brought by the Cherubs and Seraphim to receive Vernarth and Alikantus. Arriving at the highest plain, Vernarth saw the Mashiaj who was waiting for him, he was wearing a white garment, and on his neck an ornament that the Hoplite Soldiers of Arbela had given them. When
Vernarth dismounted, and a Hoplomachus could be seen on his Lynothorax, which was the same medallion that warriors carried to face divine death in combat, donated by a Thraex, who had always accompanied him with the Kantabroi with the sulfur mists after dark. rusty battles, and that he wore a manica on his arm that seemed to point with the tip of his finger at chapter
XIX of the Apocalypse of Saint John the Apostle, on both legs an Ocrea labeling the chorus of hexameters that the Sybillas chanted to revive him. And his head rotated three hundred and sixty degrees carrying the Leonatus with another Helmet under his arms with oculars with grid and crest, on his right leg a Xiphos hung like a thelamo that hung from both angles of his legs to approach when carrying his horse thrown by his hands.

His belly heaved with anxiety, in his hands was a folder that Drestnia and Etrestles had written, which had condescended to him from the Koumeterium of Messolonghi, saying:

“All the cities of the world will be called Athens…, because from there you will arrive at Patmos where you are in all places. Everything is old because it soon gets dark, and the funeral address is the first death you had when you were an infant..., all the people who are with your majesty yearn for civility that you imply in the legacy of the deep Christmas in Patmos, with tablecloths, wines, rolls and thick Corinthian wines in their plausible Patmian creation,
leaving them in the corridor that reaches the end, where the alabaster replaces the burning manger..., as a story of two stories and battles, which are exalted narrating the wars after they are their dominated lands suspended in the waters of the Aegean, and tinged with an apparent unrealized pact. The whole the world will be called Patmos, where nothing and no one will defeat you
without first a dirge when the gargoyles of your veins sob, when their capitulation is filled with culture that swirls between the white tablecloths of Kissamos and Kimolos, behold where the Sarissas They will parade through the pantheon like thousands of solitary lances towards the perpetuity of the patrimony that doubles the clouds pregnant with liquid bronze, to be
scattered throughout Athens like marble shawl stoles carried by the Meltemi with the prudence of ennobling cousins shocks of the storms that augur your departure. Nothing of minimalism or arbitrariness that cannot be resolved in loopholes that are hidden among the requirements, in which all the threats have admonished the canopy fallen on your integrity, on the Cherubim who fights with his empty hands like a beautiful angel fallen at the dawn of Miletus, being already a state governed by the Hoplomachus with his dyed sword, where you can see what you can be more than a convention of gladiators, just like that and indeed disposed towards the courage of what the daring produces with the infamy of seeing you pray alone in his black stretch.

In everything you were left alone, favorable only to the disagreement of what you should be or do, then return what you can do, you are already a legionnaire who carries the world on his back struck down with his Corinthian Kantabroi. Why did you stain your tanned hands, why somehow did the Nikephoros bring victories that take time to come and go soon? Thirst for victories they bring vessels and flows incapable of satisfying you in the immensity of their anguish and everything is done just when what fits my thinking fills my belly, and what saturates the belly remains tied to the Rudder of your precocious olive trees, from so much that the drum sounds, it turns it into empires of stones that do not coin the subsidiary complaints of their warfare, if you dare to be hostiles who bring food for dinner and everything that spills the tediousness of piling leftovers where nothing else is huge what an insult to sigh.

Vernarth, the world of Messolonghi and its eternity comes to give you the admission of a Commander!, who negotiates with greatness and simplicity, just as you can understand each other from sixty-four springs that have closed the eyes of Pericles just like yours, where the laws will have to compensate and fill vessels that remain empty for this toast  "Stin iyia sas o Khaire" from
Elpenor to your house and health of a Nikephoros devotional or conquest to win over everything,... but stay drunk alive and be reborn in other taps condescending to mythological ups and downs, where the laws revive the second or third vigils of banquets that lead into the orbit of a Hoplite. Do I see you comfortable in the klismós that carry you to the Empyrium, where the scattered saliva mixed with wine is confused with models to take you to your new home? perhaps of particular or unequal equals or relative merits that will make it exist and will prevent the possibility of doing it again. In the eighth Messolonghi Cemetery a great riot has been made, she prescribes to pay you honors with Markos Botsaris at the head of which all the gold spilled on the table will be made with bows and arrows, shields, and spears to take them to Patmos and Athens by river sounds that sound from the Hékein or the formality of lavishing to do or utter, so that everything is in favor of desolate places that will not be felt by all of Greece when they understand that you carry all the cries of the Warriors who hide behind the moor so as not to see they sob, still feeling the drums of the compass of a victory where wine flows that are written in the stands of Epidaurus, signing the chaste peace with their Medical Wars. It seems good to you that the ghosts speak of democracies, and that they also govern them with the spill of satisfying public ovation that only does it with two or three flags, Oh Cóphade I dress in a foreign outfit that enlivens your lightness from head to toe, I want to see you come back to life on the plains without stopping riding with Alikantus, free from all stratagems and fantastic smells of lavender, and grasses toasted by the summer of the hall, oven of Athens. Do not be afraid, we have distances that
are difficult to overcome, it will be the expulsion of our hearts if we allow ourselves to be caught up in the irrigation of their vulgarities that always complain of open will, do not be afraid, Pericles entrusts your departure just like you at sixty-four, in such a Syntagma double of 32 who appreciates you right and left in our companies, with courage obsequiously in becoming where the wind rises in Abdera.

We can dare to say that we are a group of seven, in the association of 25 Syntagma men who will accompany us split... but not divided! That it is nothing more than death as a double life that is placed in front of you, that shows its opposite side of the Syntagma where victory and defeat offer omens of reviving in both fights, not all of us are saved by our annihilation, nor by their qualities of Picking ourselves up even among those defeated by invisible
conflagrations or just because of the excessive feeling that what ends or begins is not impregnated with beauty, we know that you will come at Solstices and Equinoxes are free of their austere plagues, and reborn from Aspasia or the social life of socialites that Your eyes are drawn from seeing so much beauty ignites in the theater that never ends, and for this, we know that we will measure what fits in your gallbladder, and the wine that we are ashamed to recognize in order to satisfy you, O Brother, receive from an entire nation and from the inhumed of Messolonghi how they will see you happy to come to visit us, whose boastfulness disappropriates panegyric Homer, with plausible lightning from all borders if it is that a Sycomo to makes your initial on its bark, granting a new star to Greece where you can observe that it bears fruit from where you cannot taste it, but you are going to affirm yourselves well from the trunk where you can write values that are similar by virtue of the Kashmar that points to the Aegean Sea.

An immortal never claims a sycamore, rather he claims it with probity that resembles the wealth of a story written by locals who know well that they are spring harvests. No one will be able to hold more praise than Drestnia, and I to receive you in our land clear of enemies and that they sit at our table for the mere fact of avenging challenges that speak of saving and retreating, of counterattacking with perseverance carrying in your hand what breaks the Light and becomes subject to you "The Xiphos Sword". At the end of the voices they are filled with hope and fortune of your sword that could stop time, and bring you made of meat in the herd of Mosul as a weak mischievous, for this reason, it is equivalent to our parents that they will enjoy our vows, such cenotaphs for the weak who have to live protected by vigorous walls that have to engrave in their narrow, empty, and perplexed urns Freedom from other unfortunates who did not enjoy it, who did not cower from dying on earth that does not recognize martyrs who are still destined to live glorious declining. How foolish it seems to you when the mouthful of bodies from the battlefield rise with the same to everyone's heaven, and from evils that become benevolent from so much miracle to live next to them, fearful right there before the city bailiff who does not dare to dare to bury you in their domains, to see you resurrected in the domains or district of the fearful ruler. Now take your halo, take it with your five senses, and make of it courageous thirds where your seal is declaring that no one will erase or forget it "
Dada Olowo Eyo Sep 2019
Mass hysteria, a sea of cudgels,
With one mind, they rush forward,
Bearing down on the unfortunates,
That went in search of greener pastures.
Many foreigners, especially of African origin, have become puck targets for randy south africans on a **** of violence and mayhem. Thee xenophobic attacks may have sinister backing from top hierarchy I government that have been recorded on camera siding what could be termed 'foreign cleansing'.
Nigerians are top on the list of targets because they've been accused of snatching girlfriends to stealing business opportunities. Also, they have accussed nigerians of runing the largest drug cartel in their country.

But in a show of nonchalance, the federal government of nigeria has pretended not to have heard or seen the agonising, horrific & bloodcurdling jungle justice meted out on nigerians & nigerian-owned businesses.

It's sad that Nigerians are killed at home and abroad like inconsequential breathing apparatuses. SADLY SHAMEFUL.
This incurable wave of unclean faces
parade outside my fragmented window
holding their hands out in desperation
waiting for the sirens all clear command

Above the heads of these unfortunates
grey skies are laced with despondency
whist I dwell in the tower of hateful things
my sweet brothers do wait and prey for me

It is far too hot in here
this is where evil gives birth
this is the place I must destroy
smash it's filthy walls to the ground

The disciples of war hide deep
in bunkers made of lead dense
an underpass to the towers roots
****** the last refugees of hope

Stand fast my brothers
for I will not disappoint
this day I do now commit
all I have for the faith in good

By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
nivek Nov 2014
steam driven and spirit invincible
thundering along the rail tracks to Heaven
waving out the windows with maddening happiness
at the slow plodding unfortunates walking the other way
Mr Uncanny Oct 2018
I look at you and become selfish and upset
You probably look at me and wonder why?
If you only knew what was deep inside
Then there will be no reason for wondering

I have a soft exterior with a rock solid interior
Though the interior is solid it gets a bit soft
I have feelings and emotions that I want to share with you
But I feel that there is no need

I read those words of wisdom
That say don't miss the chance to say what you feel
In some cases, some feelings are better left unsaid

I'm writing this not to tell you how I feel
I'm writing this to ease my heart
To ease the pain and suffering
That I dealt with for some time

Like I said I look at you
I feel selfish and upset
This time I will tell you

When I'm with you I feel whole inside
I have no worries or fears
All my sadness is gone and all I feel is happiness

I find enjoyment in all the time I spend with you
From the funny jokes to the sad talks
Every moment with you is worth it

You probably wonder then why are you upset
Well this is why
Were just friends

Friendship is important to all of us
But when it comes to you I wish it was more than that
I wanted to be with you

I don't ever want to not have you by my side
I want to take you everywhere with me
To wake up to you
I always wonder what is it like to kiss your lips
To feel your soft body on mines, not sexually but romantically
What is it like to hold your hand to hug you close
To protect you

People see us and say we look great together
I look at us and I know we are great together

When people ask where I am
Nine times out of ten I'm with you

Its funny how we do similar thing couples do
But were not even near being a couple
Its true

Yes, you are my friend
And some relationships can stem from that
Yes, you are my friend
And I rather have you some way then no way
But in my mind you are more than that

You are my center, my balance
You are the ying to my yang
The peanut to my jelly
All those clique things they say when people complete each other

I guess what I really want to say to you
Is that I love you and wish to be with you
But I'm one of the fortunate, unfortunates
I have a best friend, who is you
But that's all well be
Just friends.

I'm not really upset as I write this
I'm not even bitter
I guess I don't want things to change between us
But I know it will

I get upset for the fact that you're not appreciated
That guys hurt you and not know your worth

I remember when you fear being alone
That you are part of the curse
As I told you before
I won't let it happen

If you were to ever read this don't look at me different
Try not to act differently
Just know that you have a friend that deeply cares about you
And that friend will be there forever
To make sure you're always okay
Wk kortas Feb 2018
April is the cruelest month, so some poet said,
Likely vexed to the breaking point by its coquettish nature,
Alternately promising and withdrawing
Sweetness of the warm sun, rustling green blankets of leaves,
The flirtatious, intoxicating perfume
Of the violet and lily of the valley.
For all its coy fluttering of eyelids,
April may delay but never denies,
Yielding its lover’s bounty and then some
To suitors ardent and otherwise.
Its forerunner of two moons prior promises no such delights,
No flora-and-fauna maidenhood as recompense for devotion;
It is the time of purification, of the purge,
A time where light is at a premium,
Often coveted but rarely apprehended, its fleeting manifestations Matters of obfuscation as opposed to illumination,
Soon to be supplanted by fierce meteorological harpies
Short on subtlety but long on effectiveness,
Carrying away those not equipped to resist its peculiar charms
(The too-early runt calf, the aged and nearly-blind collie
Trotting to an unfamiliar field or wood lot,
The newly-solo grandparent acquiescing to the song of the abyss),
The unfortunates consigned to some crypt
Or undisturbed corner of barn or basement,
Proper farewells set aside for some indeterminate time
When it is feasible to block out the knowledge
That the springtime is promised to no man or beast,
Especially at such an interval
Where so little seems to separate one from the other.
Jonathan Foreman, Daily Mail (London), August 18, 2013
The 16-year-old girl’s once-beautiful face was grotesque.
She had been disfigured beyond all recognition in the 18 months she had been held captive by the Comanche Indians.
Now, she was being offered back to the Texan authorities by Indian chiefs as part of a peace negotiation.
To gasps of horror from the watching crowds, the Indians presented her at the Council House in the ranching town of San Antonio in 1840, the year Queen Victoria married Prince Albert.
‘Her head, arms and face were full of bruises and sores,’ wrote one witness, Mary Maverick. ‘And her nose was actually burnt off to the bone. Both nostrils were wide open and denuded of flesh.’
Once handed over, Matilda Lockhart broke down as she described the horrors she had endured—the ****, the relentless ****** humiliation and the way Comanche squaws had tortured her with fire. It wasn’t just her nose, her thin body was hideously scarred all over with burns.
When she mentioned she thought there were 15 other white captives at the Indians’ camp, all of them being subjected to a similar fate, the Texan lawmakers and officials said they were detaining the Comanche chiefs while they rescued the others.
It was a decision that prompted one of the most brutal slaughters in the history of the Wild West—and showed just how bloodthirsty the Comanche could be in revenge.
S C Gwynne, author of Empire Of The Summer Moon about the rise and fall of the Comanche, says simply: ‘No tribe in the history of the Spanish, French, Mexican, Texan, and American occupations of this land had ever caused so much havoc and death. None was even a close second.’
He refers to the ‘demonic immorality’ of Comanche attacks on white settlers, the way in which torture, killings and gang-rapes were routine. ‘The logic of Comanche raids was straightforward,’ he explains.
‘All the men were killed, and any men who were captured alive were tortured; the captive women were gang *****. Babies were invariably killed.’
Not that you would know this from the new Lone Ranger movie, starring Johnny Depp as the Indian Tonto.
For reasons best know to themselves, the film-makers have changed Tonto’s tribe to Comanche—in the original TV version, he was a member of the comparatively peace-loving Potowatomi tribe.
And yet he and his fellow native Americans are presented in the film as saintly victims of a Old West where it is the white settlers—the men who built America—who represent nothing but exploitation, brutality, environmental destruction and genocide.
Depp has said he wanted to play Tonto in order to portray Native Americans in a more sympathetic light. But the Comanche never showed sympathy themselves.
When that Indian delegation to San Antonio realised they were to be detained, they tried to fight their way out with bows and arrows and knives—killing any Texan they could get at. In turn, Texan soldiers opened fire, slaughtering 35 Comanche, injuring many more and taking 29 prisoner.
But the Comanche tribe’s furious response knew no bounds. When the Texans suggested they swap the Comanche prisoners for their captives, the Indians tortured every one of those captives to death instead.
‘One by one, the children and young women were pegged out naked beside the camp fire,’ according to a contemporary account. ‘They were skinned, sliced, and horribly mutilated, and finally burned alive by vengeful women determined to wring the last shriek and convulsion from their agonised bodies. Matilda Lockhart’s six-year-old sister was among these unfortunates who died screaming under the high plains moon.’
Not only were the Comanche specialists in torture, they were also the most ferocious and successful warriors—indeed, they become known as ‘Lords of the Plains’.
They were as imperialist and genocidal as the white settlers who eventually vanquished them.
When they first migrated to the great plains of the American South in the late 18th century from the Rocky Mountains, not only did they achieve dominance over the tribes there, they almost exterminated the Apaches, among the greatest horse warriors in the world.
The key to the Comanche’s brutal success was that they adapted to the horse even more skilfully than the Apaches.
There were no horses at all in the Americas until the Spanish conquerors brought them. And the Comanche were a small, relatively primitive tribe roaming the area that is now Wyoming and Montana, until around 1700, when a migration southwards introduced them to escaped Spanish mustangs from Mexico.
The first Indians to take up the horse, they had an aptitude for horsemanship akin to that of Genghis Khan’s Mongols. Combined with their remarkable ferocity, this enabled them to dominate more territory than any other Indian tribe: what the Spanish called Comancheria spread over at least 250,000 miles.
They terrorised Mexico and brought the expansion of Spanish colonisation of America to a halt. They stole horses to ride and cattle to sell, often in return for firearms.
Other livestock they slaughtered along with babies and the elderly (older women were usually ***** before being killed), leaving what one Mexican called ‘a thousand deserts’. When their warriors were killed they felt honour-bound to exact a revenge that involved torture and death.
Settlers in Texas were utterly terrified of the Comanche, who would travel almost a thousand miles to slaughter a single white family.
The historian T R Fehrenbach, author of Comanche: The History Of A People, tells of a raid on an early settler family called the Parkers, who with other families had set up a stockade known as Fort Parker. In 1836, 100 mounted Comanche warriors appeared outside the fort’s walls, one of them waving a white flag to trick the Parkers.
‘Benjamin Parker went outside the gate to parley with the Comanche,’ he says. ‘The people inside the fort saw the riders suddenly surround him and drive their lances into him. Then with loud whoops, mounted warriors dashed for the gate. Silas Parker was cut down before he could bar their entry; horsemen poured inside the walls.’
Survivors described the slaughter: ‘The two Frosts, father and son, died in front of the women; Elder John Parker, his wife ‘Granny’ and others tried to flee. The warriors scattered and rode them down.
‘John Parker was pinned to the ground, he was scalped and his genitals ripped off. Then he was killed. Granny Parker was stripped and fixed to the earth with a lance driven through her flesh. Several warriors ***** her while she screamed.
‘Silas Parker’s wife Lucy fled through the gate with her four small children. But the Comanche overtook them near the river. They threw her and the four children over their horses to take them as captives.’
So intimidating was Comanche cruelty, almost all raids by Indians were blamed on them. Texans, Mexicans and other Indians living in the region all developed a particular dread of the full moon—still known as a ‘Comanche Moon’ in Texas—because that was when the Comanche came for cattle, horses and captives.
They were infamous for their inventive tortures, and women were usually in charge of the torture process.
The Comanche roasted captive American and Mexican soldiers to death over open fires. Others were castrated and scalped while alive. The most agonising Comanche tortures included burying captives up to the chin and cutting off their eyelids so their eyes were seared by the burning sun before they starved to death.
Contemporary accounts also describe them staking out male captives spread-eagled and naked over a red-ant bed. Sometimes this was done after excising the victim’s private parts, putting them in his mouth and then sewing his lips together.
One band sewed up captives in untanned leather and left them out in the sun. The green rawhide would slowly shrink and squeeze the prisoner to death.
T R Fehrenbach quotes a Spanish account that has Comanche torturing Tonkawa Indian captives by burning their hands and feet until the nerves in them were destroyed, then amputating these extremities and starting the fire treatment again on the fresh wounds. Scalped alive, the Tonkawas had their tongues torn out to stop the screaming.
The Comanche always fought to the death, because they expected to be treated like their captives. Babies were almost invariably killed in raids, though it should be said that soldiers and settlers were likely to ****** Comanche women and children if they came upon them.
Comanche boys—including captives—were raised to be warriors and had to endure ****** rites of passage. Women often fought alongside the men.
It’s possible the viciousness of the Comanche was in part a by-product of their violent encounters with notoriously cruel Spanish colonists and then with Mexican bandits and soldiers.
But a more persuasive theory is that the Comanche’s lack of central leadership prompted much of their cruelty. The Comanche bands were loose associations of warrior-raiders, like a confederation of small street gangs.
In every society, teenage and twenty-something youths are the most violent, and even if they had wanted to, Comanche tribal chiefs had no way of stopping their young men from raiding.
But the Comanche found their match with the Texas Rangers. Brilliantly portrayed in the Larry McMurtry’s Lonesome Dove books, the Rangers began to be recruited in 1823, specifically to fight the Comanche and their allies. They were a tough guerilla force, as merciless as their Comanche opponents.
They also respected them. As one of McMurtry’s Ranger characters wryly tells a man who claims to have seen a thousand-strong band of Comanche: ‘If there’d ever been a thousand Comanche in a band they’d have taken Washington DC.”
The Texas Rangers often fared badly against their enemy until they learned how to fight like them, and until they were given the new Colt revolver.
During the Civil War, when the Rangers left to fight for the Confederacy, the Comanche rolled back the American frontier and white settlements by 100 miles.
Even after the Rangers came back and the U.S. Army joined the campaigns against Comanche raiders, Texas lost an average of 200 settlers a year until the Red River War of 1874, where the full might of the Army—and the destruction of great buffalo herds on which they depended—ended Commanche depredations.
Interestingly the Comanche, though hostile to all competing tribes and people they came across, had no sense of race. They supplemented their numbers with young American or Mexican captives, who could become full-fledged members of the tribe if they had warrior potential and could survive initiation rites.
Weaker captives might be sold to Mexican traders as slaves, but more often were slaughtered. But despite the cruelty, some of the young captives who were subsequently ransomed found themselves unable to adapt to settled ‘civilised life and ran away to rejoin their brothers.
One of the great chiefs, Quanah, was the son of the white captive Cynthia Ann Parker. His father was killed in a raid by Texas Rangers that resulted in her being rescued from the tribe. She never adjusted to life back in civilisation and starved herself to death.
Quanah surrendered to the Army in 1874. He adapted well to life in a reservation, and indeed the Comanche, rather amazingly, become one of the most economically successful and best assimilated tribes.
As a result, the main Comanche reservation was closed in 1901, and Comanche soldiers served in the U.S. Army with distinction in the World Wars. Even today they are among the most prosperous native Americans, with a reputation for education.
By casting the cruelest, most aggressive tribe of Indians as mere saps and victims of oppression, Johnny Depp’s Lone Ranger perpetuates the patronising and ignorant cartoon of the ‘noble savage’.
Not only is it a travesty of the truth, it does no favours to the Indians Depp is so keen to support.

— The End —