"vendettas" poems
A gentleman is not brutal,
but he will prove all vendettas futile.
He is not immune to bullet, fist or blade
but any insult raised against him
will be met with a blockade.
He is stoic, but still smiles,
cracking his face open without reserve
for a friend, to calm, to a foe, to unnerve.
A gentleman dresses his best,
whether it Vans and sweater, or tie and vest.
No-one is beneath his attention
he gifts compliments quite often,
but when a man puts a hand on him,
that man goes home in a coffin.
No matter his orientation,
he respects every inclination,
He holds the door
the same way he strikes true,
every time.
He knows his weapon well,
but in blood, he doesn't buy nor sell.
He knows the time to fight
but of violence, he makes no light.
He respects every man,
every woman,
every child...
But,
if his family is ever hurt
and this one renders apologies inert
then they shall receive only
a box and a white shirt.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
White skin
Black blood
Devil's curls
Eyes that pierce
You couldn't pick me from the crowd
And say that I was black
But I'll be **** sure, you're aware of that
I've got a chip on my shoulder
With a furrowed brow
And vendettas whispered from the graves
Silence was compliance
Now I'm screaming loud
Nov 10, 2016
Nov 10, 2016 at 9:16 AM UTC
ode to revenge
you fuel our vendettas,
our grudges
you are a flame
anger your oil
friendship your oxygen
ode to revenge
you serve the wronged,
the cheated and ripped off
justice is your ally
working together
to punish the villains
ode to revenge
you fair parasite
feeding from our souls
making people do you bidding
but it's all for the greater good
right?
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:09 PM UTC
Can’t you hear the reverie of trumpet calls?
Lion’s roar inside your blood?
Horse drawn buggys of unrighted wrongs
Jack Hammers
Carving another niche in their belt
Of brawn and steel
Daggers
Driven into hearts of man
Shrapnel
Burning, Stinging
Earth howling in her *******
Blossoming in respite
Man, woman barred from hearts merging
In the forgotten tale of reciprocity…
Gun powder laced with melodic virtuoso
Absorbed as a distant chant
Sound waves meandering into War Zones
Ghostly sounds of the living, the living haunting the soon to be dead
Personal vendettas in the guise of fighting
Man, woman barred from hearts merging
In the forgotten tale of reciprocity…
Oct 19, 2011
Oct 19, 2011 at 4:33 PM UTC
Alas the crusade sparked vendettas reach
Pools of blood shed boiled with fury
As the shiny spear made its final mark
In the name of vengeance, one solemnly swore
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 9:55 AM UTC
She was trying, so desperately,
To outrun the quiet loneliness of the world.
She held vendettas against the sinister silences that haunt goodbyes,
Against the fading shades of love,
Against the quietness in a voice that speaks to a desertion of love; a death.
(The monsters of her heart).
However, there is a certain bravery in her desperation for life.
To escape the oceans of regret,
To escape a certain brokenness.
For bravery lies in her conviction to live,
To find an irrevocable truth in another,
To deceive the shadows of longing.
In the face of undeniable malice and grandure.
In the fear of feeling nothing at all.
For in the end,
When the silence is deafening,
With a weariness that electrocutes,
And a tiredness of the heart.
She wanted it all to have mattered.
-
*"Do you think I'm pretty?"
I think you're pretty."*
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
Superseded my conditions with something simple, a vision for the mind to segue into:
An expedition to the stars, a journey towards difficulty fortified my convictions.
Experienced fourth dimensions, I have stepped into the infinite.
And none is perfect, I am aware of my impulses.
With a heart full of verses, I set the stage to play a role. This is all with a purpose.
I have indulged; I am at fault. There's so much to interpret.
Turbulence settled.
I learned to get leveled with vendettas developed since I was a kid, man.
Learned not to meddle; instructions were heaven-sent.
To go where few bodies had been, I had to find hobbies that aligned with the angels so that I could find the angle
to finally handle everything that I've been through.
A prevailing discomfort encompassed; imagine the troubles.
I rolled with the punches, and I came out triumphant.
From starving to marveling at the cosmic alignments and frequently fighting with God to having so many run-ins.
It's hard to keep a facade when destiny's tugging.
At war with myself, but the timing is perfect.
It has to be worth it; the truth has emerged.
Ever since I sunk into the depths where I dwelled and found my way to the surface.
Apr 13, 2024
Apr 13, 2024 at 11:05 AM UTC
You can't spell enemy without me
Born with a rogue tongue
That speaks vendettas to sabotage the smile it hides behind
I tried to bite it but the lies shine between the cracks in my crooked teeth
So now I sit home alone where I can only lie to myself
Once in a while I send distress signals
Mainly to prove I still exist
But I dare not open the door
For fear my tongue will escape
And slither toward a kind ear
To tickle its fancy; whispering sweet nothings
Then choking it with white noise
I strike again
Jun 6, 2010
Jun 6, 2010 at 12:13 AM UTC
up on Boot Hill
the sun sets early
the soaked anguish
of grieving mothers
swaddled in
twilight's vestments
mourn the death
of another murdered
child
we roll our eyes
and speak in tongues
tiny prayers
incant
RIP
these reflexive bits,
our shattered votives
litter city boulevards
on each solemn
street corner
new alters
of desecration
are erected
then despoiled with
the wasted wax of
misspent novenas
our extended families
are bloodlines of fear
spawning
prostrate men
tattooed with
multicolored pain
who refuse to cover
body marks
bespeaking epic tales
of sorrow,
divisions
countless separations
also marking
righteous reasons
of seething
resentments
eager to settle
accounts
sweet vendettas
clever ambushes
carefully deliberated
for generations
by discordant clans
believing in malice
exalting guns
shared loss
is our
common
affliction
uniting everyone
in envelopes of sadness
becoming live
Dear John letters
bearing news of dearly
departed loves
atop the coffins
of dead children
votives pile high
with scrawled eulogies
of fevered graffiti
solemnly pledging
“gonna make someone suffer
gonna even the score
never forget you
RIP”
and we all die
looking stupid as hell
lamenting
love don’t rest in peace
hearing
it scream from the grave
witnessing
the hallowed earth
churning with revulsion
accepting the bitter ashes
of another dead child
for the love of you
is your funeral march
love don’t RIP
it stalks the tomb
of indifference
it mourns
the ambivalence
of its devaluation
it haunts the
day dreams
of what could
have been
it restlessly
flits among
the playgrounds
of our minds
cluttering the rooms
of our homes
with grief
up on Boot Hill
we clasp the
small hands
protruding from
shallow graves
groping to find
a graceful sleep
for love don’t
rest in peace
Stevie Wonder:
Love Is In Need of Love Today
Written to honor
Love Appreciation Day
jbm
Oakland
1/19/13
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
Merely a silhouette with its head cocked to the side, arms reaching out, stretching through the majesty in knives, and stabbing spots into my eyes.
I rise to burn
Feel to learn
For the better of my vendettas
Steady hands
On humbled umbrellas
Of sedatives
And other derivatives
Of my dissatisfaction
In lacking patience , I repaint the pavement, and face it after lacing spaceships with the enslavement of my basements, and place it in my heart.
Spiraling in slimy things
In lucid dreams
I'm asleep
Walking amongst the dead
My demon brings
The corpse of kings
In sheets
From battered beds
I am said
To have slithered
With the best of men
Drained and bested
In the molested
Ingesting of entire
Settlements
Not to mourn
As i warned
In subtle hints
Most would whimper
As i rinsed my hands
Of this
Varmint ****
And moved on with it
I get what i got coming
As im drumming
The anthem
And humming
With phantoms
Tandem
To alchemical
Dreams
Singing
In romantic strings
Scrutinizing
My advertising
Of fiends
Leaning in
To scream
I awake unclean
Seeing
Differently
Than before
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
He waits for nothing
trapped inside vendettas of the past.
To compensate for all the pain.
Collapsed by storms, aghast.
Mouthing words into the plated
metal microphone.
Omniscient spy who gawks upon
his wretched monotones.
Patient Dr. Jekyll sits still
with longing looks.
While Heyde is toying endlessly
amongst his fellow crooks.
If only neither played a part,
and both were but a dream,
No plague of silent conflict
would crowd his every seam.
Within the realm of tragedy,
is where his soul endures.
Ty; intrinsic predator
searching for a cure.
And as his restless measures
of feelings coincide,
and harmonies escape his lungs
while beats start to collide,
The distant Dr. Jekyll protrudes
from vacant sleep.
Commences to erode a quiet
conscience, from the deep.
Sudden need for elsewhere
is all that Ty can see.
Every fiber recognizes
where he needs to be.
And suddenly the microphone,
who knows his every pain
is sitting lonely,
mesmerized
by silent noise again.
Ty is but a victim, sullen thoughts
that make him sick.
Never can he compromise,
when all his habits stick.
Forever now ambivalent,
confused and losing time.
Ty knots his laces,
bats his tears,
a façade: pressed and fine.
Ty's dreams are crushed,
disintegrate into the offshore sand.
When all at once he notices,
his life is in his hands.
A straw that Jekyll used before
is laying on the ground.
Heyde is shaking shamefully,
but cannot make a sound.
Ty looks upon the dreams he crushed
and searches for his will
its lined up right in front of him,
dispassion in a pill.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 12:05 PM UTC
Oh how sad my days
How sad they would have been without the two of you
One I've known since I arrived
The other soon there after
My nights would never have been spent
in the early morning hours
I wouldn't have enjoyed two o'clock mornings
in the cold tranquility which was people and noise ridden
All except for us and the best memories to be found
In so humble of a town
Oh how we would have far fewer vendettas
,traditions to keep and fun to be had
If I had never met the likes of you
These many days would never have flown
We would never have become the butterflies we are
And never have found a one eternal love
These days were not meant for soul seeking
But only for finding those who are there
through thick and thin
I'm quite sure that there are none
None who could even attempt to hold a candle to one of you
My dearest friends
A Shark whose dust has blown people away
And a Pink Panther who has never been on TV
I am eternally grateful
that I have found the other two peas to my pod
I love you two, you're the best Siamese twins a girl could ask for
-Love Gator <3
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 7:54 PM UTC
His diction
Fictitious
Mincing
Spit and ****
In ridiculous
Versus
Versionless
In vicious
Dispersions
Of his bluffs
Staining rugs
Enough
To know
What hes
Made of
Through the
Fluff
And he was
A weak hearted
Blabber mouth
Sporting
A verbal blouse
With a gerbil
Where his intellect
Was housed
And he is
Without
A doubt
A *******
Clown
Lying down
At the first
Shot
And hes not a poet
Without flow
To show it
And he knows it
But its rough
To huff
And puff
Before a smarter
Man
With harder
Hands
And solid tramps
Trampling
The dropping pants
With open mouths
As they fall down
To their knees
Pleasing
The release
Of a king
He
Kisses
The key rings
And sings
Of sheep
Dreaming
The dream
Was a dream
But still sees me
Even after
Stopping
Breathing
From floor
To ceiling
Revealing
The butchered
Meat
Secreting
The feelings
Fading away
And he looses
But nothing new is
Brewing there
He can glare
From down there
But aware
I'm better
More clever
And severed
His vendettas
beheaded him
Before the sedatives
Could wear off
The kids
The wife
The dog
Just *** socks now
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 4:40 AM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
I don't mind your feral sences, we Could burn a million flames just to
Cure the sadness,
Do I believe in love?
Not quite from your petty personal vendettas,
They'll fly above,
But the upside Is that everyone should be
given a fair trial,
And more Pampers and more formula for
Every single child,
But the world is too twisted in endless loops
Of peril and chaos,
And destruction and death,
It musen't be a ****** to have to breathe
your last breath,
Fairly twisted and devoted to a state that's more loyal to Satan
Than anything we've ever seen,
Buildings touch the sky in flames in between logic and metaphorical
Cemeteries with symbolic links to all broken dreams,
Touched by an angel in all of the rights ways making sure that you
Could get through the day without screams,
When **** hit the fan , who do you believe?
Oct 30, 2016
Oct 30, 2016 at 10:58 AM UTC
it's a true testament in
pride for that New York everything
walk fast talk fast
pride in New York everything
fast pace
lights never dying
city never sleeps
the sun is dawning
city's still crawling
it's cause New York is everything
business thriving
heart of the music
heart is beating
it's jiving
and that old school
blunt riding
pride in New York everything
upstate
down the Hudson river
misunderstood
gun slinger
and vendettas
ghettos and the wealthy
fifth avenue and tall buildings
pride for that New York everything...
Apr 19, 2014
Apr 19, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
I know this is pretty random but I'm glad we've cyberly crossed paths. I just want to make clear I ain't after all that mASS.
Please excuse my language but observe the linguistics as I flip this and twist it got your mind thinking, lifted enlightened.
Not to bring up your body again but if you're ever sore and need some rubbing I'm certified by Netflix to give massages (NO CHARGES).
Back to reality your energy so vibrant gravity doesn't exist don't be frightened. You still probably have no idea what I'm trying to say is through your eyes I've become mesmerized by your soul. The only intentions I have is to carefully unroll the scrolls you withhold for a heart of gold, whoa slow you roll Joe I'm thinking. My baddd I was trying to rhyme and that's the first that came to mind. I'm down for whatever no matter the weather. From sipping on wine and taking mouse bites of cheddar to grand theft auto vendettas while we **** on the remedies, will you befriend me?
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 6:35 PM UTC
STOP!
wading around in my oatmeal your feet are too big and i fear you'll break the bowl
mouthword form NASTY!vendettas
hot mud
sluicing through your fingers in and around the cup
SQUELCH!
drink it eat it smear it all over your face
DO NOT
hunt snakes for they will eat your brains like the paint you really are
in your ear
PILE DRIVE IT
get your anger out
be happy
feet make smiles on the floor
dancing away from you till you fall on your face
with a thump
OUCH
feet dancing on dragging all around the house
into the bathroom
down the stairs
BUMP BUMP BUMP
out the door
down the street
and into the oatmeal
GET OUT OF MY ******* OATMEAL!!!!!
all we want to do is eat your brains.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 4:26 PM UTC
As always, you want to sidestep the pain
And let it take residence, staying there until it rots,
You say you can’t face what was once effortless
But the most effort you ever invested in
Was mindless cruelty
That very easily could have killed me.
When I start to forget it,
I miss you despite the circumstances.
But it’s been ages without you
And it’s not as painful as it was.
I hope you get better about compassion
And less hung up on vendettas.
Maybe the blossoming of the new year
Will change you completely
And no one else ever will want to **** me like you do.
Jan 3, 2018
Jan 3, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
Guess the revelation didn't hit a great impact
The magic from studios and stages has lacked
Where else do these maniacs set a comeback?
Grieving minds, screaming throats, reality *****
Some live in dream world lurking from poverty
Some live in nightmares lusting for majesty
The floor bubbling out molten lava, real fiery
Man I tried crossing the mine-land boundary
Huge words cut slow, so thin sharp ones
Harsh titles are awarded to the wrong ones
So may be they're trying hard for ascensions
Bothered about being on the other side once
They might hold the flag, lift it high with pride
Furious in incursions they blindly decide
But the universal truth, every lies will collide
Sam, you've let vendettas root deep inside
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 4:42 PM UTC
Phrase: I want to live,
Phrase of ingenuity.
Crave self destruction
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 10:37 PM UTC
For better days,
I do contend,
Like breathing chasm's of fears lonely regret,
Tossing and turning,
Down paths belittled drawn stones,
Pony boy saddle up,
Beware the road is already ahead,
And the men all wear their funny hats,
Ice -
Like the vendettas of a broken promises,
Healing is a necessary awareness,
Like poetry forever chosen,
Day's un-ended only still formed
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
ven·det·ta
venˈdedə/
noun
noun: vendetta; plural noun: vendettas
a prolonged bitter quarrel with or campaign against someone.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC
We do not forget!
We do not respect,
We are killers and we love to neglect.
Fools who fool around and do not regret.
Vendetta, trendsetter, miss leads to **** better.
We don't forget,
So remember us as Vendetta.
Understanding what we do and every day we stay fit and get better.
Danger is our name,
Blood and broken bones our game.
We don't stand out but behind you like a shadow, feeding on pain.
Waiting for the right time to slit throats and burst veins.
Vendettas is a treat,
It's real, so we don't forget!
We do not respect.
We are killers and dislike miss steps
Fools who fool around and do not regret.
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:54 AM UTC
Speed bump vendettas
Hit the gas and watch it go
In our winding opinions we're constantly making wrong turns
But to look at the mileage, you'd never know.
I'm walking on the yellow line
Lean to the left and lean to the right
And hope that you don't die tonight
The road to Hell is paved with good intentions
So I guess we're living in a hard-hat zone.
Streetlights can be cruel when they're showing parts of me
Streetlights are heavy when they highlight what you can't see
We keep parking too far from the curb
As we keep overspending our words.
You watch the cars, I'll watch the street
Our thoughts in the headlights, they never meet
Maybe our ideas are all we'll ever be
You keep counting yellow lines, disregarded like me.
We'll take turns backseat driving
Maybe that's the only way we keep surviving.
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC