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The unrelented grotesque of the old town centre
Buzzing strongly from its high
Too many unpleasantries for me to count
Is what I discovered after midnight

While everyone was laughing, shouting and wandering around
I was cowering, screaming and pleading for no more sound
My butterflies were neurotic - they were eating me inside
It's a wonder why I didn't throw up one single time

And so, I ran away
Through the flags and bunting
I ran away
Past the ranting and blubbering
I ran away
I'm anxious to tears
I ran away
Get me out of here!
This poem was written after witnessing my town centre at closing time last Saturday night. You can tell from this poem that I didn't find it the least bit pretty.

---

© Jordan Dean "Mystery" Ezekude
David Ayres Apr 2013
A nomadic soul blows carelessly in the wind. Winding down an untrodden path, he creates a new way for a friend. Patience again and again, will be the factor that lends, the helping hand to lost whims. Flimsy ghosts in the wind, sing freedom songs to no end. Mend a broken heart to be tended. Send a lost letter to be commended. On you travel, unrelented. Spend a moment to be splendid. Not confused to be offended. Pending goals to be achieved, you're relieved there are more answers conceived. Hidden truths be believed,  and perceive a message indeed. Seed the plant to feed the steed. Need not selfishness and greed, to enjoy the aroma of ****. Knead a knot in in your back and take a **** and relax. Tack kind words to a fax, that slips on through the small cracks. Jack and Jill with strong backs, keep traveling on down the tracks.
Blake Bourland Nov 2010
******* man
intrinsic blue flame jet set smoke and green neon light smacked right into the main cable.
Thick liquid bass thump with the breakbeat bump
in sight and sound of tasted color.
Makes a meandering soul to twist
and twilight the highlight of the lowest man to find.
Pounded feet on cracked side street
****** that sell out the unrelented love.
When one starts another mixed in to beat match strike and spark
to set it off.
Down the highway flyway light streaked past in transient sound
of the spatial distorted.
Become the freak high sung from these beats
spilled down from heaven in this divine golden potion.
From oblivion to the tree tops on a flow of
Liquid
Candy
Motion.
Jun Lit Jan 2018
Will anyone look for that One Alone?
When this book on loan
has been returned
to the Library of Lamps as all its oil is burned?
When the waves retreating
have finished erasing
the messages I whispered
those etched with sobs unhindered
on the sands seemingly numbed
on the seashore of your heart succumbed?

Will anybody wonder what’s going on?
The nameplate’s gone
on the face of the closed door
of that room on the upper floor
that a while ago was Altar of Magnum Opus
of the tiring writer’s stylus
and Tabernacle
of a cramped leg muscle
of that voice that preached Darwin’s epistle.

The gong’s now muted
Just yesterday it was calling unrelented
upon fellow believers demented

The sun now starts to peep
As stars bid goodnight to sleep

The frail shadow shall lay down, no scent of frankincense
in the tomb of forgotten replies, with reminiscence -
     of a hundred “wait till tomorrow” in any sense,
          a thousand “just a minute” in any tense
               “see yah later”, for a thousand “Whens?”
                    “soon . . .”,  and now just silence . . .

Life leaves a million lessons.
and yes, I, we, will always remember . . .
Dedicated to the memory of Dr. Victor P. Gapud (18 October 1943 - 29 December 2017), an esteemed mentor, colleague, entomologist, taxonomist/systematist, nationalist, teacher, scientist
Strewn into the world, plucked from the veil
An existence unconsented
A consciousness awoken, now pain can be hailed
A life that has unrelented
I irrevocable, cannot be undone
Suicide not a solvent, I will always have existed
From myself nowhere to run
Pain is all, lacking pleasure, happiness resisted
If prevention of pain is your sole desire,
On my philosophy you should inquire
Exploring different philosophies. This one's about Antinatalism.
Amy Perry Sep 2013
I've left my darkness
In the past,
Those days have passed.
I'm now the light that manifests
In a woman of twenty-one.

Like a flower
Budded and scented
My beauty unrelented;
Such power
For a woman of twenty-one.
Unexpected resurrection of my dabbled dreams by way of unrelented surprise.

Supposed fast forward into the mud pies in which my dreams now lie.

Hands on practice,
For saying goodbye.

Unintelligible groveling of my mind begging for something familiar.


Hello there.
This is your blank slate.
Do with it what you will.


Stale heartsongs frozen in headlights.
Unsure of where to run.

Anywhere but away.

Perhaps,
Ere on the side of caution,
LIKE YOU ALWAYS DO.

Take a step back,
Onto the fallen floorboards that follow behind.
Fast forward the rewind.

It is time.

— The End —