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The curtain on the
CPAC convocation rolls back,

as the revolution
in Tahrir Square boils.

America’s theater
of deadly political

absurdity commences;
to witness demagogues

recite holy scripture to
evangelize a religion of war.

A heavily invested
audience marvels

at the marionettes
pirouetting on strings

jigged along by hands
of invisible puppet-masters

donning dark masks of
clever 503C llcs

disguised in self serving
hues of red, white and blue.

This grand folly of masquers
conceals a fatal pantomime,

a cast of reactionary characters,
Neo-Conmen auditioning for

the leading role in a lurid play
of a deadly nation projecting
a dying imperial preeminence.

The martinets engage zero
sum games where the victor
belongs to the despoilers,

and the merchants of death
richly confer multimillion dollar
reasons for being, underwriting
the gilded egos of candidates

and their infatuation with the
vanity of feigned power.

These master rhetoricians
skillfully lather up the crowd

by pandering to basest
xenophobic nationalist
instincts and fantasies
of laissez-faire proclivities.  

Slathering on the partisan
pretense in layers so thick

a master chef, armed
with the sharpest Ginsu Knife

couldn't slice a hock tip
of blood red meat

hurled into the crowd of
gobbling Republicons

howling and yodeling
it’s derisive acclaim.

The rankled party line,
gibberish talking points

are hammer blows of
incessant propaganda,

so cocksure that any room for
doubt is crowded out by the

phantasmagorical McMansions
of hyperbole they ***** in

the pliant minds of their
gibbering minions.

The candidates preening for
president show off their

falangist affectations
in eager duels of oratorical

one upmanship; constantly
jockeying to outflank their

other Neo-Conmen opponents,
always concluding their brutish

diatribes with a solemn
denouement of a Republicon

psalm ending with a
Holy Hosanna Hallelujah

to the Ronald Reagan
Heavenly Buddha.

Punchline of the holy Amen
“what would Reagan do?”

to remind the faithful
to remain the faithful

bearers to the fiction
of dead Reaganism.

Evoking anything
Ron and Nancy

induces sanctioned
comportment of a

slow simmering
******* eubellence

providing a welcomed
relief of repressed
libidinal energy.

The mention of Goldwater
sends GOP acolytes to

pause in reverence,
envisioning Barry and

Ronnie looking down
from heaven upon the gathered,

inciting immediate ruminations
of falling dominos and

the viability of a
tactical nuke strike

against Ayatollah’s
underground
uranium factories.

The host of Neo-Conmen,
new age Falangist pitchmen

belch from the dais,
in ever increasing alacrity,

the stirring drum beats
and slick videos,

of glorious warriors
winning the battlefield

with the rippling glory
of the Stars and Stripes

flowing in a continual
loop behind them.

Romney,
Bachmann

Gingrich
take center stage,

goose stepping
to the roll of piercing timpanis.

Words slither
out of their mouths
like poisonous snakes.

Lies, hiss through
their teeth.

Open mouths
expose Black Mamba
fangs, dripping with venom.

Eyes squint
as their reptilian brains

implore the besieged
to flee from the
light of truth.

Seeking refuge in fear;
yet on the ready

to coil and strike;
while trembling

in ignorance,
exalting loathsomeness

worshiping violence;
they remain

poised to unleash
first strike armies;

boastfully evoking moral
platitudes of Bush Doctrine
prerogatives.

Trembling in ignorance
worshiping violence

exalting fear,
these dogs of war bay

to unleash armies
against the

Godless apostates
that threaten

to expose the
stasis of their

Capitalismo-Judeo-Christian
view of the world.

They have hijacked
the great faith traditions

to serve a narrow
political aim

and relish any
opportunity to

demonize Islam
in service to their lies.

Watch as they
they crouch down

on the dais to
open the nest

of vipers welling
deep within the
bowels of their souls.

They find relief
by excreting their

spawn of deadly asps
into the veins of

cable news networks;
scoring political points

with the terrorized
children of Faux News

capturing battalions
of straw men villains

to rise atop meaningless
straw polls.

They agitate for a second
American revolution

by injecting the venom
of fear and lies

into the body
politic.

Ron Paul
stands alone,

perplexed why
American's love

war as much as
they hate civil liberties?

Cheney and
Rumsfeld brood.

The people of
Iraq and Afghanistan

fail to embrace their armies
of liberation that run up

unfortunate collateral damage
body counts required to sustain
the American way of life.

Ever the defender of
democracy and liberty,

Gingrich slams Obama's
condemnation of Suleiman

"hes an able diplomat."
Gingrich  forgot to add

that Suleiman is a
skilled torturer and

an able tyrant any self
serving democracy would
be proud to call ally and friend.

Cheney and Rumsfeld
remain flummoxed.

Their armies of liberation bogged
down in the marshy Blackwaters

of intractability;  trying to solve
the conundrum of the diminished

equity returns of asymmetrical
warfare.  Spinning the math

to justify building aircraft carriers
to **** a gnat.

The families of dead soldiers
surround them and wave dime

store flags hoping the plastic
eagle remains fixed atop the pole.

Perpetually smiling
Michele Bachmann
raises the specter
of Muslim Brotherhoods
taking over Egypt.

The persecution of Christians
and the escalating war on

Christianity have the Crusaders
up on their seats waving Excalibur
once again.

Gingrich pink cheeks
flush with the cash

of a Zionist casino
entrepreneur

doubles down, stacks
his chips high.

“The Israeli Embassy
in Cairo was overrun
by angry mobs.”  

“Is this a precursor of
cancelling the peace treaty
signed with Sadat?”

“The pullout in Iraq hands the country to
radical Shiites effectively handing our
hard won victory to Iran.”

“Israel is threatened and will not
permit Iran to acquire nuclear

weapons. A nuclear empowered Iran
will not stand!”

“We mustn't let do nothing Obama
threaten the safety of our good ally
Israel.”

CPAC willingly holds the deadly asp
to the breast of a proud nation.

Urging, coaxing it to gently sink
its teeth into the sacred heart
of our dear republic...

John Lee ******
Crawlin King Snake

CPAC 2011

Matthew 23
Brood of Vipers


jbm
Oakland
2/10/11
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
The Exaltation of Inanna: Opening Lines and Excerpts
by Enheduanna, the daughter of Sargon I of Akkad and the high priestess of the Goddess Inanna
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lady of all divine powers!
Lady of the resplendent light!
Righteous Lady adorned in heavenly radiance!

Beloved Lady of An and Uraš!
Hierodule of An, sun-adorned and bejeweled!
Heaven’s Mistress with the holy diadem,
Who loves the beautiful headdress befitting the office of her own high priestess!

Powerful Mistress, seizer of the seven divine powers!
My Heavenly Lady, guardian of the seven divine powers!
You have seized the seven divine powers!
You hold the divine powers in your hand!
You have gathered together the seven divine powers!
You have clasped the divine powers to your breast!

You have flooded the valleys with venom, like a viper;
all vegetation vanishes when you thunder like Iškur!
You have caused the mountains to flood the valleys!
When you roar like that, nothing on earth can withstand you!

Like a flood descending on floodplains, O Powerful One, you will teach foreigners to fear Inanna!

You have given wings to the storm, O Beloved of Enlil!
The storms do your bidding, blasting the unbelievers!

Foreign cities cower at the chaos You cause!
Entire countries cower in dread of Your deadly South Wind!
Men cower before you in their anguished implications,
raising their pitiful outcries,
weeping and wailing, beseeching Your benevolence with many wild lamentations!

But in the van of battle, everything falls before You, O Mighty Queen!

My Queen,
You are all-conquering, all-devouring!
You continue Your attacks like relentless storms!
You howl louder than the howling storms!
You thunder louder than Iškur!
You moan louder than the mournful winds!
Your feet never tire from trampling Your enemies!
You produce much wailing on the lyres of lamentations!

My Queen,
all the Anunna, the mightiest Gods,
fled before Your approach like fluttering bats!
They could not stand in Your awesome Presence
nor behold Your awesome Visage!

Who can soothe Your infuriated heart?
Your baleful heart is beyond being soothed!

Uncontrollable Wild Cow, elder daughter of Sin,
O Majestic Queen, greater than An,
who has ever paid You enough homage?

O Life-Giving Goddess, possessor of all powers,
Inanna the Exalted!

Merciful, Live-Giving Mother!
Inanna, the Radiant of Heart!
I have exalted You in accordance with Your power!
I have bowed before You in my holy garb,
I the En, I Enheduanna!

Carrying my masab-basket, I once entered and uttered my joyous chants ...

But now I no longer dwell in Your sanctuary.
The sun rose and scorched me.
Night fell and the South Wind overwhelmed me.
My laughter was stilled and my honey-sweet voice grew strident.
My joy became dust.

O Sin, King of Heaven, how bitter my fate!

To An, I declared: An will deliver me!
I declared it to An: He will deliver me!

But now the kingship of heaven has been seized by Inanna,
at Whose feet the floodplains lie.

Inanna the Exalted,
who has made me tremble together with all Ur!

Stay Her anger, or let Her heart be soothed by my supplications!
I, Enheduanna will offer my supplications to Inanna,
my tears flowing like sweet intoxicants!
Yes, I will proffer my tears and my prayers to the Holy Inanna,
I will greet Her in peace ...

O My Queen, I have exalted You,
Who alone are worthy to be exalted!
O My Queen, Beloved of An,
I have laid out Your daises,
set fire to the coals,
conducted the rites,
prepared Your nuptial chamber.
Now may Your heart embrace me!

These are my innovations,
O Mighty Queen, that I made for You!
What I composed for You by the dark of night,
The cantor will chant by day.

Now Inanna’s heart has been restored,
and the day became favorable to Her.
Clothed in beauty, radiant with joy,
she carried herself like the elegant moonlight.

Now to the Noble Hierodule,
to the Wrecker of foreign lands
presented by An with the seven divine powers,
and to my Queen garbed in the radiance of heaven ...

O Inanna, praise!



The Exaltation of Inanna: Opening Lines, an Excerpt
Nin-me-šara
by Enheduanna (circa 2285-2250 BCE)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lady of all divine powers,
Lady of the all-resplendent light,
Righteous Lady clothed in heavenly radiance,
Beloved Lady of An and Uraš,
Mistress of heaven with the holy diadem,
Who loves the beautiful headdress befitting the office of her high priestess,
Powerful Mistress who has seized all seven divine powers,
My lady, you are the guardian of the seven divine powers!
You have seized the divine powers,
You hold the divine powers in your hand,
You have gathered up the divine powers,
You have clasped the divine powers to your breast!
Like a dragon you have spewed venom on foreign lands that know you not!
When you roar like Iškur at the earth, nothing can withstand you!
Like a flood descending on alien lands, O Powerful One of heaven and earth, you will teach them to fear Inanna!

Enheduanna, the daughter of the famous King Sargon the Great of Akkad, is the first ancient writer whose name remains known today. She appears to be the first named poet in human history and the first known author of prayers and hymns. Enheduanna, who lived circa 2285-2250 BCE, is also one of the first women we know by name. She was the entu (high priestess) of the goddess Inanna (Ishtar/Astarte/Aphrodite) and the moon god Nanna (Sin) in the Sumerian city-state of Ur. Enheduanna's composition Nin-me-šara ("The Exaltation of Inanna") details her expulsion from Ur, located in southern Iraq, along with her prayerful request to the goddess for reinstatement. Enheduanna also composed 42 liturgical hymns addressed to temples across Sumer and Akkad. And she was the first editor of a poetry anthology, hymnal or songbook. Now known as the Sumerian Temple Hymns, this was the first collection of its kind; indeed, Enheduanna so claimed at the end of the final hymn: "My king, something has been created that no one had created before." And poems and songs are still being assembled today via the model she established over 4,000 years ago! Enheduanna may also have been the first feminist, as she made Inanna the supreme deity. Keywords/Tags: Enheduanna, translation, Akkad, Sumer, Nanna, Inanna, Ur, Sumerian temple hymns
Gypsy Jun 2014
I wanted to stop
Truly I did
But the idea became more than disillusion
I was drawn to it
We were all drawn to it
Like flies
But it was bound in thick glues and saps ready to **** us in
I watched him take the first bite
Venom spilt from his lips
Molding them
Rotting them
I ran with determination
But there was the apple
The drug
The venom
I wanted to stop
But **** it was sweet
Noah Ducane Feb 2016
Venom dreams of waving smiles
Circled suns all caught in a line
Made of lead tears
That wished you were made
A promise that broke the earth
In a perfect peace.

And then the rain of blues
And the words of white
That washed against the sea walls
And flew kites
Fast against the childhood skies
And made music
For the deaf.

Sunship dreams of *** in rivers
Of ***** that flowed like milk
In a harmony Hellenistic
Like mosaics of the buried past.

Venom dream of number nine
In the ways you will be mine
To hold and love forever.

Serpent sails for the guns of tomorrow
Not bullets in your ironclad heart
That cannot pierce no love or feeling
But rhyme always
Against the fallen grain.
Snake

The snake sits coiled in on himself
low in the dark ground
props his heavy head against the wall
he is sick and cold
it's in his blood to be sick and cold
he's too afraid to ****
knows he can swallow a rabbit whole
but doesn't want to see the rabbit leave
everyone loves the rabbit
so he turns invisible
becomes the dotted line on the floorboards
sinks into the heavy air
sometimes the snake can feel his venom leak out into his teeth
feels sickness in his belly
festering purple words in his mouth
too sick to be hungry
the snake takes to the ceiling
he likes how nobody looks for him
he can just watch
be silent
the snake loves to watch
listen to the goat bleat
or the rabbit make a scene and twitch around
it's quiet and peaceful and he can't be trampled
he can just coil up and love them all
if he is quiet nobody will know he is sick
they will only see his friends, the goat and the rabbit

Goat

The Goat Loves to be pet.
to be milked
trade himself for the love of another
to marry, sacrificial Goat.
viscera and smoke for the gods to be nourished
The Goat always comes back to life
Bones whole like the Milk, Zeus fed him
Rewarded with immortality for his submission
the goat lives like he knows he's immortal
does not listen to reason
acts on gut instinct
he has four gut instincts
they never agree with each other
the goat still has one horn
the second was shaved and polished so he did not
harm anyone
the first stomach breaks it down
the second passes it through without much thought
the third feels sick as it passes
the fourth sends it's nutrients through the body
The Goat feels a mixture of fulfilled and tricked.
he is still not certain if it was worth it
but sacrifice is familiar to the goat.


Rabbit

The rabbit thumps his big white feet against the door
sends it flying into the bar.
all eyes
twitchy hops
busted hinges
door frame
his bright white fur,
blue glitter suit
chatters his teeth
in approval of the attention
finger guns his new audience
his manic smile
huge attentive eyes
take in the room
glow as he speaks
fast and clear
commanding everyone stand
form a circle
most of them do
except the snake hugs the ceiling unnoticed
the goat has no motivation to participate
Goat distracted by his sketchbook.
Goat is drawing the snake
the snake is coiled up trying to disappear
Snake does not want to think about the goat watching
wishes for the goat to just watch the rabbit.
the snake is upset and can't sleep
the room is all dancing now
spiraling around the rabbit and laughing.
the rabbit leaves the circle and sits next to the goat
rabbit asks what the goat is drawing.
the goat points at the snake and says

"there is a beautiful creature that the world deserves to hear about"
the rabbit agrees
says how phenomenal an artist the goat is.
rabbit looks at the goat in his rectangular slit eyes
delicately touches the goats polished horn nub.
the goat leans into the rabbit and feels comfortable
the snake is very happy the goat stopped drawing to cuddle the rabbit
and starts to smile
less sick with less attention
up here alone without being seen
he can lift up his heavy head again
he looks at the rabbit
the rabbit looks for a split second at the snake
just long enough to wink
rabbit goes back to petting the goat
who is nuzzled into the rabbits chest
as rabbit watches the room of people dancing
all circling as he left them and commanded
the rabbit bathes in his power for a minute
bathes in his love for every creature in this room
how much love he is getting and obedience
complete control and omnipotence
all these individuals
the rabbit is a god in his own mind
he values the snake for watching over the room
values the goat for being immortal
mostly the rabbit values himself
for being their manic god, keeper. protector.

when the room stops dancing they look towards the rabbit
but the snake has descended the wall and eaten the rabbit
the goats gut instinct told him to swallow the snake
the the room looks at the goat
rectangle eyes one polished horn
and a look like he just brought himself together
the venom
from the snake
mellows the vibrations from the rabbit
the rabbis feet give the goat
unfathomable luck
Goat is level headed and looks
at his former dancers no longer under the rabbit spell
all separate
with their own lives
properties
the goat is no god
he is not a shadow like the snake
he is not distracted or indecisive in his art and mind
he just exists. talks.
listens. learns
he shows the room his drawing of the snake
they for the first time feel they are not alone
the goat, the snake, the rabbit, they all understand
they have so much love.
they complete each other.
Before she could speak she pointed.
grabbed my hand and sat me on a stone wall.
tugged her mothers shirt and pointed beside me.
sat between us and smiled, kicking her feet.

I just met her that morning, but she knew.
bright little girl
maybe that's why her mother named her after the sun
Soleil.

fond of "No". that was a big one.
and "elsa" of course.
and every night when you tucked her in she'd list everyone she knew and ask if they were home.
"papa home?"
yes, papa is home
"numnum home?"
yes, numnum is home.
"Dada home"?

I can only imagine she does the same.
an I imagine it... so often.
I wonder what they tell her.

"I love your words."
That's the last thing she told me.
and the first.

I love her words too.
I still hear her, whenever I say them.

"Blue"
"Three"
"Venom"
We played Lego Marvel together, and I told her venom was Daddys favorite, so naturally she always wanted to play him when you asked
"who do you wanna be?"
"Venom. BIG Venom"
There's different kinds of venom in lego marvel, cause he can like,
turn hulk size and do hulk stuff, or turn spiderman size and do spiderman stuff?
I liked him because he was super versatile,
but I'm pretty sure she picked him because he's my favorite.

"Elza"
"let it go"
she could sing the whole song before she could even make full sentences.
and her mom would make her stop because she wasn't good at it.
but I thought her voice was beautiful and always told her
"I love your voice"

I don't know very well the relationship between love and memory
but I heard once that the key was repetition
and if for nothing else, just to hear her in my head forever I say them over and over to myself

"I love your words"
"Let it go, Let it go"
"No."
Ceida Uilyc Jul 2015
I could tell you,
But you’d laugh at me.
Because it is bare, raw and pure.
You gloat on the preservatives.
You discard the genuine.
Listen to me, my friend, there is a part of the world, where even a bulb is never, ever, witnessed in real, but reel of the sanskrit Cartoon slots. The peppy  and ‘lone B-grade Cartoons .
Filled with Flesh.
The stories of tantric mantras, with a sliver of diminishing hearth,
on the
Dimensions and depth of the Yoni in the resin of shellac
on the Immaculate ceremony,
In a woodpecker hole just underneath the sealed power of the Yakshini who truly screws it up if you have taste of her once.
the one who harbingers drunk loners of Kavadiyattom alley after 3:20 am.
She takes them to the crown chakra of palm trees.
Shows them the world.
she pushes them off the crown and the falcon falls in endless spirals of a inhuman push that pushes the concrete innards to a danlgling mass of amoebic copulation.
Breath comes back.
It is a big nauseating gag of Kumbhakarnan's long sadya that lasted for half a decade.
Of the soma saras that made the entire India go, ga-ga and believe they've seen the god.
But not one nor any saw the same face, colour, shape or even vibe of the god they had seen alone.
They agreed in unison that all their hallucinations of beautiful humans in Flower UFO s and high-tech cloning, were a vital hair in the nostril of the cosmos.
They made, each a god out of their genuine mix of memories.
Or in the, priest's ways,
Hence, the 2.3 Billion populous of the country had the same, well, odd Spiritual benefactors.

Keeping it all aside, lemme be honest, I'd follow many a fairy god-mother but give my milkey teeny tooth to the special one.
Hinduism tells you God is omnipresent.
Hinduism tells you God is within you.
It also says, there is no God.
The clipper to snap off the confusion of this, lies in the same cheap stained-yellow cliche of love. It entails everything. You, me, animals, plants, cosmos, vibes, thoughts, dreams and the universe.
It tells you to live with your body mind and soul.
From Kamasutras that teaches sense.
The excitement, control and breakthrough of it.
Like tao did under his exposed roof without the sacred dung of from Hindu Land.
This is the secret of a rumoured Mohini,
Of her 1000 per hour ******* during the her/ his/ its 352 incarnations.
which was the reason for Big bang.  
Amidst the sultry scant of the voluptuous *******,
Their skin,
a vernacular reflection of a dusk on the Japanese gold beaches, And the mounts,
firm and glowing with the rusty shade of pharaoh’s Gold anklet.
The gooey glaze of yesterday’s glamour in the wink of a gay galore.
Paulo Ceolho’s Holy Communion with God,
Or like the Japanese Tengaman says,
Or rather screams,
That all it it takes is a little *******.
So, yes.
That precise art of attaining a consciousness, from where your mind was
Afloat
Wild
Free
Satiated
By yourself
You’ve just consumed the essence of you
Your Ojhas
And the tiny matter that teaches the universe
Of a Shunya.
That, momentary sense of lapse of your body mass,
Or the breakthrough into your eye of the crown.
Only to join the mundane bustle of the 10,00 speakers on all four
JBLs, Boses and Pioneers live looping the zillions of sanskrit mantras under one roof.
In your Ear drum.
A synechdoche of the Gods and their jacuzzi of amphetamine bubbles.
Splashed from a white Elephant's bejewelled Snout, which has the
crowned ring in your pineals.
Secret lies under
the rotten bone chip of Hussain Sagar
deep under the ***** green lake,  
drowning the rainbow Buddha in the city of slimy immortal maggots on ham.
Open your eyes.
For the Gods will
Else
Cut your eyelids off
to show you that
the city's shardminds await you.
roaring
Playing close to the fire demons of Redland
A nail close to your wide open lid-less
White flowing eye.
Hear the city scream.
The deafening chaos,
In unison,
Intoxicating their venomous fruits
of the delirious worlds
Or simply put, divine prayer and offering
for
the Omnipotent,
Omniscient
And the
Om.
Shunya.
Or the cyclic abyss of meaninglessness.
But,
Like, the wilted azures
that seduced those flies,
From a far far away,
To come the praise the combs of their bellies,
Filled with the red from the omnipotent, dead, weak and evil
In one little fly belly.
They came from the
land called Lullaby.
To go there
from here,
But, first,
bear the Weasleys' infamous extendable ears and heed me now, for I say twice and See him Come.
The snake, the tangy smell of goated black rub and blueness.
Siva shouldn't come?
Not yet. A little DMT more in the brain and perhaps the spark will happen.
Better than the potions of those gigantic forest priests.
No, Heed me, now.

3 Dodos Walk-afar,
And, take the lone left-laden log
the one that is,
limitless Long
loyal and  let alone
By those
languors which
Killed
Lord Leopard Loot'.
While,
Lord's Lass
Lays lolled lambs,
Lolled ‘long le ******,
Leech on the laiden log,
leading to Lord Lava,
Yes.
The bridge of Casilii Po.

Of the Lord.
Guarded
By these bubbling bellies with a drop of the world's make.
Assassins.
the Fly, flies.

retain the scarification of theolden curse,
Older than the rocks underneath this gurgling lava,
On which reincarnation steams.

As destiny should have it,
the astrologers had seen,
3 centuries back
That at a Sphinx’s Wedding,
a war of Vision,
will break.
It will
Bring the Stars
Out of those melting blue nightsky of Neruda's wails;
And the diabolic estrangement inflicting Eagle,
From Meena’s vibes,
that rubbed of a distinct scent of Malabar embedding a little of everybody in the village,
on its Kasavu lines posing
at the focus
of Sahib's Ferguson or Baker.

The gold turned white.
A liquid white, like that of the sap,
For that,
***** on a parrot green rubber plant
And work your fun with the white gluey milk,
fragrant than the sap
Like the  Ylang Ylang buds freshly kissed by the drooly dew,
sealed away
elegantly in a crystal Indigo bottle by the pen stand.

One that glitters if you look at its surface, but smells of naphthalene ***** in the sink
in
that
creepy trailer in
mid salem night of the tut.
Colourful.
This is colorblind.

White is motile.
White is wriggling.
White is life.
With a **** of Eve’s fabric-less
Skin.
White is divinity
feeding you excess of everything,
With an tenfold over dosage injected intravenous, by a silver-haired-glow-in-the-dark-dodo-cupid;

She is divine.
**** Her.
**** her on a Pyre.
**** her innards on a fire.
inflame the bubble
of her her oily effluent you found on the toilet seat
Instil in her, the seed of your sodomic occult,
Not by compassion, but through a hiss and sting
of the
flawless venom of the diabolic.  
Then. Disinfect your fruit that you flicked off the paradise.
And bellow to the blowing gurgling below.  
A reign of ****  nihilism,
moaning the mood-swings-of-a-98-year-old-menopausing-Bhairavi of the Indian Aghora Tales;
And Shelly, fueled in his undiminished hearth with the help of his impetous West Wind,
dreaming lucid,
on a flight in the sky for one week,
with Lucy’s sewing  sequined buttocks,
Stinging their luminescent, lactating, lustrous skin,
Like a tatto machine, lifting rays into the epidermis
So that it roasts, burns a soot and neonifies the only colour
A shade of
The rave, rainbow-red karmas of human existence,
Its little greedy quantas waltzing around the matter
And of its unleashed illuminations
That fuel the same vessel in the universe,
infamously known as,
the
black hole.
Uggh!!
All characters and plots are fictitious.
Your nightmares are yours, not Caesar's.
This is truly the fruit of my insomnia. I have been awake 52 hours now. Had to rant the wakefulness out.
It is unedited. All those offended, I didn't mean it, you did.
Memes on Every Theme

To hell with thought! Bring on the memes —
"The highest art," or so it seems.
They cover every single theme —
A **** for feelings: cheap and lean.

Who needs the mind? Just feel instead!
Why think at all? The brain is dead.
Much easier to sit and scroll,
To bathe in lies, to numb the soul.

And if those memes are set to clips —
Behold the miracles of drips!
Raised on TV’s myth parade,
With pop as idol, sense decayed.

Then march in rows — a zombie troop —
Each meme a leash, each thought a dupe.
The world is dumb — hence meme’s loud roar,
Each one more brainless than before.

A meme’s a tool, like fear or lie,
To make the herd obey and die.
These generations rot in dust —
Once ruled by hype, then crushed by rust.

Dust to dust — their world will fall,
Its lies and filth will feed the crawl.
But now the memes explode and spurt —
Like melted cheese on news dessert.



---------------------



1.
Memes replace thought — obey, consume.
A smiling herd walks toward its doom.

2.
Scroll and drool — forget to think.
Truth is ash, and memes the stink.

3.
Memes are chains with GIF disguise —
They rot your mind and feed you lies.

4.
Mind is silenced. Lies are screamed.
And pop-star memes — the Devil’s dream.

5.
Memes are maggots in the brain —
Squirming joy in drooling pain.

6.
Click, obey — your soul gets *****.
Each meme a noose in candy-shaped.

7.
Your thoughts were sold for meme parade.
Now rot in gifs your masters made.

8.
Mindless scroll — the grave gets near.
Each meme injects a new veneer.

9.
Memes — the ***** of the dead,
Served in songs to dull your head.



---------------------



Bags of Waste


They feast on Hamlet-omelets still,
As if there’s nothing else to fill.
This world is packed with vacant eyes —
The thinking man just starves or dies.

He cannot chant the worn-out lies,
The myths drilled in through dull replies.
They pump in trash since early youth —
And rot begins by killing truth.

Not every brooding soul’s a sage —
Dostoevsky's just a bore on stage.
But once you're stuffed with every fake,
You lose the urge to see — or wake.

No thought remains that burns alone,
That fights, defends a mind its own.
They’re not alive — these bags of waste
Repeat what filth they’ve learned to taste.

It breeds in generations deep —
This art of drowning thought in sleep.
The filth, the lies — all hand-designed
By swine who seek to rot mankind.

No thoughts? Then pens are traded for pens.
The herd is fat — enclosed in dens.
Fed myths and laws that all obey —
To keep the thinking ones at bay.



---------------------



1.
No thoughts — just waste in human skin.
They feed on lies, and call it sin.

2.
Bags of garbage, taught to moo —
Truth was slain to comfort you.

3.
Once you ate the myth buffet —
Your soul began to rot that day.

4.
No mind, no fire — just passive meat.
The herd is groomed for sheer defeat.

5.
Fed on Dostoevsky's gloom and mold —
But never dared to break the hold.

6.
Truth's a toxin in this land —
So they eat lies, and think it grand.

7.
You're not a man — you're rotting code,
A host for lies in flesh and mode.

8.
Decayed inside, still dressed as thought —
Your brain's a bag the virus bought.

9.
They stuffed your skull with myth and pain —
Now all you do is spread the stain.

10.
A walking bin of pre-set lies —
That smiles while everything it dies.

11.
Infected meat with glazed-over eyes —
Programmed to graze, consume, despise.



---------------------



"TO THE BAGS OF WASTE"
(A Manifesto for the Thinking Dead)

You feast on Hamlet like it’s food,
Declare your boredom as a mood.
Yet when the truth knocks at your gate —
You blink, you scroll. You take the bait.

You chant the myths they drilled inside.
You smile while letting thought subside.
You speak in memes, obey and grin —
A corpse of culture, dressed in skin.

You are not men — you're rotting code,
A landfill set to mindless mode.
You carry lies like sacred blood,
And wade through life as passive mud.

You quote your "genius" from a screen,
But never saw what genius means.
Each myth you eat becomes your cage —
A soft, obedient, padded stage.

You are bags — not minds, not flames.
You are files with different names.
You are bins of pre-chewed pain —
And all you birth is more insane.

Your eyes are blind, your speech is staged,
Your "truths" are memes pre-soaked in rage.
You graze like beasts, well-fed and tamed —
Your slavery no longer shamed.

We see you.
We name you.
We burn the mold you came through.

From waste to fire — let the purge begin.
No virus thrives where Thought breaks in.



---------------------



New Tactics for the Fight


If you fight a lie with lying —
Even “for the greater good” —
You’re already dead, just trying
To look alive, as corpses would.

Lies are total. Only truth
Can reply with steady flame.
Hard, yes — but to mimic ruth-
less dark, is just the same.

This is war. A war for soul.
Demons lie — that’s all they do.
Crushing meaning, self, and goal —
Every word they speak untrue.

Don’t be fooled — they’re sly, not wise.
They boil the frog, they cloud the skies.
Lies infect entire lands —
Not with guns, but with commands.

Old tools fail — discard them fast!
New revolt must truly last.
They’ve refined soul-killing arts —
So strike where rot and ruin starts.

Seek the breakthrough. Change the form.
Find the weapon past the norm.
Rotting beasts infect the Earth —
Make them tremble at rebirth.



---------------------



MANIFESTO OF THE NEW FIGHT

To those who still see.

I. The Mask of Good
You said it was for peace.
You claimed it served the light.
But truth, once bent, is torn to pieces —
And so you’ve lost the fight.

To fight with lies, though “for the right,”
Is still to serve the very blight.
The war is not for land or gold —
It’s for the soul, the flame, the hold.


II. The Depth of War
This war is not with bombs and steel —
It claws at thought, it mocks what’s real.
Each word is twisted, meaning *****,
And even light gets reshaped.

The creatures lie — with savage pride.
They crush the truth, then call it “guide.”
They forge their facts, corrupt the air,
And smile inside your quiet despair.


III. The Boiled Nation
They boil the people slow, like frogs,
With laws, distractions, fame and fogs.
They’re not “wise” — they’re just diseased.
They feed on hearts like swarming fleas.

The lies are baked into the ground.
The truth is hunted, gagged and bound.
And all the “news” and "sacred rules"
Are weapons crafted just for fools.


IV. Break the Pattern
The old tools? Dead. They served the beast.
The “debates,” the “rights,” the “voting feast.”
They mock your efforts while you speak —
They gut your truth, then call you weak.

Don’t use their tongue. Don’t wear their skin.
The battle starts and ends within.
You want to win? Then burn their scripts.
Unlearn their myths. Reforge your grip.


V. New Weapons, New Will
New tactics rise where old ones fail.
Not to convince — but to derail.
Seek out the cracks, the open seams —
Strike through illusion, not through dreams.

Your target: beasts that rot the core,
That feed on souls and cry for more.
They are the ulcer of this land —
Make truth itself your rebel brand.


VI. Final Call
Truth is not soft — it’s fire and fight.
It does not bow to “greater right.”
So forge your mind into a blade,
And cut through every trap they’ve laid.

The war is now. The field is you.
There’s nothing safe, and nothing new —
Until the lie is scorched away,
And soul reclaims the light of day.

We are the Breakthrough.
We are not meat.
We are the Thought that won't retreat.

New fight. New fire. New form.
And this time — we are the storm.



---------------------



Insatiable Monster


The world’s a monster, always fed —
It drains your strength, it leaves you dead.
But soon you'll find, when all feels gone,
A pit where none but you hang on.

Drained and cold, yet in that grave
You'll spark again — you'll find the brave.
Outside the mob, the brainless crowd,
Where noise is cheap and dumb is loud.

You will regain the fire, the fight —
So burn, ignite your inner light.
Though fools may scream from every side,
Don’t waste your fire — let silence guide.

Whisper truths to kindred minds,
If such rare souls you ever find.
Or write in silence, store your gold —
This path won’t leave your spirit cold.

To seek, to think, to fight, to make —
That is the path the true must take.
To create — again, again! —
That is how the soul breaks chains.

All else? A mockery of breath —
A life that stinks of fear and death.
A trembling lie. A spirit’s wake.
A form that walks, but never wakes.



---------------------



MINI-MANIFESTO: IGNITE THE SOUL

The world’s a monster — draining might,
It steals your strength, devours the light.

But in the pit where all seem lost,
You find the flame — no matter cost.

Don’t roar with fools, don’t shout in vain —
Whisper truth and bear the strain.

Seek the rare, the minds that fight,
Create with fire — burn the night!

Think. Resist. Create. Repeat.
This is the path no foe can beat.

All else is death in empty breath,
A life that’s chained, a dance with death.

But you — ignite. Become the flame.
The world’s insatiable — tame the game.



---------------------



Don’t Play with “Positive”


Don’t chase “positivity” —
Dive deep into the NEGATIVE.
Forget the tale of “happy life” —
It’s darkness dressed as narrative.

The real story’s dark and grim,
Not just dirt, but foul and dim.
Once it was mere filth and waste,
Now fools heed lies with blind haste.

Even stars and sages read
The shadow’s truth — the hidden creed.
In light, some shades just disappear,
Grasp the dark — the truth is clear.

In this hellish maze of spite,
You’ll see how Darkness wields its might.
If you dwell in comfort’s cage,
You’re a fool locked in a stage.

No escape that way, no flight.
Work with intuition’s sight.
Let the Light become your care —
Or doom will settle everywhere.

In darkness, Light is sharp and pure —
“Positive” just blinds, obscure.
If you seek the Light above,
Fight the fiends — oppose, be tough.



---------------------



1.
Don’t drown in lies of “happy” light —
True power lives within the night.

2.
Positive blinds, but darkness shows —
Fight the fiends; oppose your foes!

3.
Comfort’s cage is fool’s domain —
Intuition breaks the chain.

4.
Light in darkness — sharp and cold,
Fake bright lies just dull and fold.

5.
Forget the “happy” scripted spiel —
In shadow’s truth, you’ll find what’s real.



---------------------



The Global Zoo-Circus


“Mumu” and courage never mix
When darkness clouds the mind’s own fix.
Around, dull stumps and hamsters hide
In burrows safe, nowhere to ride.

And packs of foolish dogs abound —
Not simple beasts, but Darkness’ hounds.
And all forget the solid base —
The core dissolved, erased, displaced.

Such broken souls will redefine
What “bold” means in their poisoned mind.
Forget “bravery” — when the crook
Attacks the wise with ***** look!

And “maturity” is just the act
Of swallowing all filth intact,
Dragging crumbs into your den —
Calling such habits “mind” again?

You’ll lose the last remains inside —
The very soul that once had pride.
The Spirit leads, the mind obeys —
Forget that truth, you’re but a slave.

A servant pig, a dog on lease,
No matter how they boast or “please.”
A cat is wiser than such swine —
At least its eyes still hold a sign.

And soon will come the fiery days —
That cleanse the world in cleansing blaze.
This dumb zoo-circus will be swept
By flames from High, through Sun’s adept.

Fifty years past, it was just “circ” —
Now brighter beams through windows work.



---------------------



THE GLOBAL ZOO-CIRCUS

“Mumu” and courage? Never twins
Where darkness thick and venom wins.
Around — dull stumps, blind hamsters hide,
In filthy holes, no will, no pride.

Packs of dogs — not pets, but fiends,
Darkness’ hounds with poisoned genes.
All forget the solid base —
The soul erased, replaced by disgrace.

“Bravery”? Joke! When fools attack
The wise — their minds they try to crack!
“Maturity”? Just rotting rot —
Swallowing ****, feeding the clot.

Call these habits “mind”? You’ll lose
Your last spark, your sacred fuse.
Spirit leads — the mind’s a tool.
Forget that truth — become their fool.

Servant pig, or dog on chain,
No pride, no fight, just dull refrain.
A cat’s more sharp, its eyes still glow —
While swine march blind to their own woe.

But soon the firestorm will rise —
Burning down this circus of lies.
Flames from Above, through Sun’s fierce light,
Will purge this dark and cursed blight.

Fifty years ago — mere circus cheap,
Now light breaks in — no lies to keep.



---------------------



ZOO-CIRCUS RIOT

No “Mumu,” no courage here —
Darkness rules, the end is near.
Stupid stumps and hamsters crawl,
Blind dogs bark — they serve the fall.

Bravery? Ha! Fools attack
Wise minds — they’ll crack your back!
“Maturity” is just decay —
Swallow **** and rot away.

Spirit leads — don’t be a slave!
Pig or dog, you dig your grave.
Cat’s eyes burn — but swine are blind,
Lost in darkness, crushed, confined.

Fire’s coming — scorch this mess,
Burn the circus — no more less!
From Above — the flames ignite,
Sun will cleanse the cursed night!



---------------------



Worse and Worse


Worse and worse —
The lies grow dense,
Deeper curses,
Thicker sense.

More poison
In filthy lies,
Sharper minds
In merciless cries

Of valley’s evil,
Where fear and gloom
Crush all will —
Sin’s dark tomb.

Once by whip,
Now by deceit.
The world’s a cage —
No escape fleet.

To soar above —
No wings to lend.
To reach through madness —
Hope’s thin bend.

Rising hard —
Foul stench climbs high.
Only choice —
Death or evil’s spy.

Poison’s sharper
In corruption’s grip,
But servile shame
Eases the trip.

And choice dissolves —
Death claims the theme,
Consuming all —
The final scream.



---------------------



Weariness Is Not Sarcoma


Weariness crawling deep in your bones?
Then spit it out — crush it, break the stones!
Nothing to lose — just shame and dust,
No dawn of reason, no hope or trust.

Fight your last battle, even alone,
To hell with the outcome, to hell what's known.
This world’s for dogs, all sold and broke —
Learn well how to die, that’s no joke.

The worm gnaws sharp — it’s fear in “good,”
That worm of worry, twisted and crude.
If you listen — you’re rabble, the dirt,
If you heed it — you’re wisdom’s worst flirt.

Reject all lies, or you’re long gone,
Dead before death, in decay drawn.
You’ve entered Hell — Mirrors so bent,
Selling misery as joy’s event.

To cast off lies — you must cut deep,
Cut yourself raw, no easy sleep.
No walking Hell with calm or ease,
If you’re serene — you’re just disease.

And you’ll be lonely all your days,
If truth is all that lights your ways.
Weariness will come in time’s stream —
Then spit it out, don’t lose that gleam.

Forget much else — forget it well,
Only truth in the soul will dwell.
But many here have lost their souls,
Hell’s delirium fully controls.

Be like a shrink for many minds —
Don’t waste your nerves on fools and grinds.
Wait for the crash, the world in pain,
Earth bleeding wounds, soaked in disdain.

This cataclysm will cleanse the cold,
Soulless swept, the pure behold.
For global fascism’s guilt —
No hiding, no escape built.

Weariness is the least concern —
Shift your soul’s focus, learn to burn
With mighty effort, that true gem —
All else is dust and worthless stem.

This is Alchemy’s true course,
For fighters who deny fear’s force.
If not, then idiot you are —
And this whole world is dust so far.

Weariness, lizards, dust, and sticky fear —
Attributes of Hell that’s near.
The soul must know — or face the crash:
Devoured by Hell’s putrid lash.



---------------------



Weariness Ain’t No Cancer

Weariness creeps deep in your bones?
Spit it out — crush it to stones!
Nothing left — just **** and dust,
No dawn for minds, no hope or trust.

Fight your last fight — fight alone!
To hell with all outcomes known.
This world’s a kennel for dogs sold —
Learn to die fierce, fierce and bold.

The worm of fear, dressed as “good,”
Sows your mind with rotten wood.
You listen — you’re rabble, ****.
You heed it — you’re wisdom’s ***.

Cut off the lies, or you’re dead —
Dead before death, rotting, bled.
Hell’s Mirrors warped and foul —
Selling chains as happiness foul.

No soft steps through Hell’s domain,
Calm in Hell? You’re just its stain.
Lonely warrior, truth your sword —
Weariness? That’s your reward.

Forget the rest — just keep truth bright,
In soul’s dark depths, the only light.
Many soulless crawl in Hell,
Madness rings the devil’s bell.

Be psychiatrist, cold and sharp —
Don’t waste nerve on brainless carp.
Cataclysm’s coming, Earth will bleed,
Soulless swept by fire’s creed.

Fascism’s plague we all must pay —
No escape, no hideaway.

Weariness? The least you’ll feel —
Shift your soul, make strength real!
Fight! Fear’s dead weight you must shun —
Fail and this world turns to dust and gun.

Lizards, dust, fear’s sticky sting —
Hell’s own marks, the devil’s ring.
Know this, or face the crash —
Hell’s putrid maw will gnash and slash.



---------------------



Man’s Fate

From childhood, everyone is placed
Within the harsh, dumb scheme’s embrace —
To forge a soul without a spark,
Obedient, silent, cold and dark.

Stupidity and soullessness
Are goals the cattle-class possess,
Who hold the highest powers here,
Driving slaves to death and fear.

Death comes in forms, both gross and deep —
The spirit’s death is worse to keep.
The graveyard swells with lifeless throngs —
This world’s no home, but crypt of wrongs.

Laws exist for lifeless dead,
Rules made for fools to bow their head.
The air is stale, the chains grow tight,
Bonds forged in darkness, snuffing light.

Amidst this ruin, fragile blooms
Of wisdom rare, like sapphires’ rooms.
Yet chains are made, and fools are bred,
Betrayers, brutes, and hangmen fed,

Who guard their skins and heed the lies
Of brazen fiends with hollow eyes.
Lies bottomless, absurd, profane,
Deadly orders to **** the sane.

Armies march with tests and plagues,
To burn the land in fiery waves —
Better than ******’s cruel fire,
Their lies consume and never tire.

Only Spirit can break the cage,
And strengthen Mind to rage the rage.
These frames fit ***** and feeble drones —
Soon Darkness cracks the ancient stones.

Darkness destroyed by Sun’s fierce light —
Its blaze will burn the dark to blight.
Step out from shadows, choose your fight,
Become a blazing beam of light!

Burn the World’s disgrace away —
Let that be your defiant say.
Risk your life to stand and shout,
Find your tribe and band about.

Join the fight against the fascist curse,
Or be the dead, the doomed, the worse,
Bowed beneath a fatal fate —
Submit, and seal your endless state.



---------------------



Fight or rot — no in-between,
Break the chains or join the mean.
Rise as fire, burn the lies,
Or become one dead who dies!



---------------------



No mercy for the slave or fool,
Crush the Darkness, break the rule!
Burn their lies in blazing wrath —
Or rot forever in their path!



---------------------



Comparative Zoology

A tiny bird pecks grain,
While pigs just eat all plain.
What’s the difference here?
Pigs gorge without fear.

And what makes fools apart
From swine’s coarse heart?
They chew on tastier lies,
Feeding fear and despise.

Drunk on lies, far worse
Than pigs in their curse —
Captured by the BEAST, they fall,
Like flails that smash it all.

They wreck the last remains
Of reason in their brains,
Fighting battles doomed,
For pay alone consumed.

The BEASTS of fools know well
How to torment and quell.
The sums are clear as hell —
Life’s impossible to dwell.

The smart can’t bear this zoo,
Where LIES reign bold and true,
Breeding death’s approach —
Each lie a tightening noose.

The **** that schemes the camps,
Brews storms and global cramps.
Death, or Death’s harsh call —
A fascist world to fall.

It sweeps all in its path —
So sweep the world in wrath,
Or else in that dread camp
We’ll crawl, all of us stamped.



---------------------



Comparative Zoology

Tiny bird pecks seeds alone,
Pigs devour all — they own the throne.
What’s the **** difference, fool?
Pigs eat filth, you swallow drool.

******* hoard their spite and fear,
Feasting lies, they choke on smear.
Drunk on *******, worse than swine,
Trapped by BEASTS that crush the mind.

They smash the last spark of thought,
Fight pointless wars, for greed they’re bought.
BEASTS of fools know how to break,
Drive the herd, control the fake.

Smart minds choke on this zoo’s stink,
Lies spit venom, push to brink.
**** breeds death, camps in command,
Global fascists scorch the land.

They’ll burn it all — no mercy shown,
So burn it down or die alone.
Or crawl to camps in slavish rows —
The choice is yours, as darkness grows.



---------------------



Comparative Zoology

Tiny bird pecks its worthless grain,
Pigs gobble all—dumb, filthy, insane.
What’s the ******’ difference, you ***** slime?
Pigs eat ****, fools swallow grime.

Fools fatten on fear and hate,
Feed on lies, sealing their fate.
Drunk on ******* worse than swine,
Cursed by BEASTS that crush the mind.

They smash the last spark of reason’s light,
Waging useless fights for greed and spite.
BEASTS of fools, cruel puppeteers,
Drive the herd with venomous sneers.

Smart minds suffocate in this zoo’s stench,
Lies spit poison, life’s twisted wrench.
**** plots death, camps in control,
Global fascists burning the soul.

They’ll torch the world, no mercy given,
So fight or die, your fate is written.
Burn it all or crawl like slaves,
Darkness wins if courage caves.



---------------------



Comparative Zoology

Tiny bird pecks its ****-for-grain,
Pigs choke down filth and puke in pain.
What’s the ******’ difference, dumb-*** freak?
Pigs eat trash, fools lick the sleak.

Fools gorge on fear and bitter hate,
Swallow lies — that’s their deathly fate.
Drunk on *******, worse than swine,
Caught in BEASTS’ chains — a noose divine.

They smash the last flicker of reason’s fire,
Fuel pointless wars for greed’s desire.
BEASTS of fools, vile masters of pain,
Twist minds, drive herd, and spread the stain.

Smart ones suffocate in this cursed pit,
Lies drip poison, truth’s counterfeit.
**** schemes death in brutal camps,
Fascist fires burn Earth’s lamp.

They’ll raze the world without a shred,
Fight now or rot among the dead.
Burn it all or crawl like slaves,
Darkness reigns if courage caves.



---------------------



Comparative Zoology

Tiny bird scraps scraps like ****,
Pigs gorge on **** — they never quit.
What’s the difference, dumb *****? None!
Pigs eat crap, fools drool and run.

Fools feast on fear and rancid spite,
Swallow lies like death’s invite.
Drunk on *******, worse than swine,
Chained to BEASTS, fists made to grind.

They crush the last spark of reason’s flame,
Fueling pointless wars for filthy gain.
BEASTS of fools, sick masters of pain,
Bend minds, herd sheep, spread the stain.

The smart suffocate in this stinking pit,
Lies drip poison, truth’s counterfeit.
**** plots death in twisted camps,
Fascist blaze burns Earth’s lamp.

They’ll raze the world to ash and bone,
Fight now — or rot, broken and lone.
Burn it all or crawl as slaves,
Darkness wins if courage caves.



---------------------



Dust

“Shake off the dust of cities, shake the dust
Of strange tongues, of friendship and of hate,
The dust of grief, of love, and mortal fate.
O, free man choosing freedom’s gust!
You hold but desert winds and dust.”
— Ibn Said, The Demon Tablets


Like cotton wrapped in dust —
“Friendship,” “love” decay,
And sticky fear’s a toxin
Coursing in the veins.

No friendship lives, no love survives
When you’re a slave by will —
Only beasts get service,
Only scraps and filth to fill.

That filth is in the mind too:
Trash and petty waste — decay.
Beasts in savage frenzy
**** souls day by day.

More rotten with each moment —
Soul’s slashes grow severe.
Genocide more ruthless —
A filthy fool’s career.

This fool will be the end —
Subdued, wild, and blind.
Satan reigns a god here —
Most lost, insane, confined.

Shake it off — all this filth!
Step light and walk your way.
Mystics, poets — forward!
Leading out of decay.

On this cursed road,
Leaving Hell behind.
No more fragile victim —
Or you’ll rot confined.

Bravely dive inside —
Only there truth’s found.
Fight for light — or perish,
If you bow down.

This city is a desert,
But your path’s not lost —
If you fight: Hell vanishes —
All rotten chaos tossed.

No sorrow, no death —
Just cleansing desert wind.
Believe in that alone —
Strike lies dead, unpinned.

Rot’s salt and core is Hell,
Fascist slime’s domain.
World bowed down in terror —
Horror’s cold, dull chain.

If you’re trapped in “desert” —
No light left to take.
Now the cataclysm nears —
No more time to break.

It’ll sweep away all Hell —
All rotten, all betrayed.
Gone forever — vile and weak —
In dust, forever laid.

Only in Pure Spirit
Will life be born anew.
If bright, your path is clear —
The stench and slime won’t glue.

To Light they’ll not cling —
They’ll fall and quickly fade.
You’re not cast out —
Let beasts keep up their charade.

Time ticks on —
No place for liars’ games.
For traitors who have fallen —
No refuge, no names.

Shake off the city’s dust,
The dust of hate and love.
All space is torn apart —
Mirages die, above.

Mirages in the desert —
This pitiful world’s scorn.
Here in lies you’re trapped —
A frog, dumb, forlorn, and worn.



---------------------



Dust

Shake off the dust of cities, dust of lies,
Dust of fake friends and ****** goodbyes,
Dust of pain, of love turned into death —
You, free man? Just wind in desert breath.

Like cotton wrapped in dust and fear’s sick glue,
“Friendship,” “love” — impossible for you.
Slave to beasts, just scraps and filthy crumbs,
Brains rotted out, no hope that comes.

That filth’s inside your mind as well:
Trash and nonsense, a living hell.
Beasts in rage tear souls apart,
Slaughter hope and crush the heart.

Every day it gets more vile,
Soul’s butchered with a brutal smile.
Genocide’s the brutal score,
Fool’s plague killing evermore.

This fool’s the end —
Broken, tamed, unfit.
Satan’s god,
The insane, the spit.

Shake it off, you filth-drowned wretch!
Step light, get out the stench and stretch.
Mystics, poets — lead the fight,
Escape this endless, choking night.

On cursed paths, leave Hell behind.
Stop being weak, or rot confined.
Dive inside, find truth’s hot flame,
Fight for Light — or die in shame.

This city’s desert —
Your path is fire.
Fight and Hell burns down —
Rot’s funeral pyre.

No death, no grief —
Just cleansing dry wind.
Believe in this —
Strike lies, begin.

Hell’s salt and core is rotten lies,
Fascist slime beneath these skies.
World bowed down in terror’s clutch —
Horror’s grip — too **** much.

If trapped inside this desert shell,
No light to claim, no hope to sell,
The cataclysm’s close, it’s near —
Sweeping Hell away with fear.

Gone forever, rotten ****,
Betrayers fall, their time is done.
Only pure spirit rises bright,
Cuts through stench and wins the fight.

To Light they cling no more —
They fall, they drop, they rot and roar.
You’re not cast out —
Let beasts lie in their gore.

Time ticks down —
No place for lies,
For traitors broken,
No disguise.

Shake off city dust —
Hate and lies be crushed.
Space torn wide —
Mirages crushed.

Mirages in the desert —
This pitiful world’s curse.
Trapped in lies like slime and mud,
A dumb, forsaken frog, alone and cursed.



---------------------



Dust

Shake city dust —
Lies and friends, all dust and death.
Freedom? Ha —
Just wind in barren breath.

Friendship’s poison, love’s a lie,
Slave to beasts who watch you die.
Brains rotted, souls torn apart —
Hell’s plague choking every heart.

Every day the rot grows worse,
Genocide’s the curse.
Fool kneels, Satan’s throne,
Insane masses, all alone.

Shake it off — step through the fire,
Mystics lead, lift your ire.
Fight inside, or drown in shame —
Hell’s desert burns your name.

No grief, no death — just cleansing flame,
Strike the lies, destroy the game.
Fascist slime will drown and fall —
Cataclysm burns it all.

Only Spirit rises strong,
Cuts through filth, rights the wrong.
Mirages shatter, fade to black —
Fools sink, never come back.

Shake the dust —
Break the chain.
No lies remain,
Only pain.



---------------------



Fool

All is wasted under this cursed sky.
Joy is only for the fool who won’t ask why.
Then you stand like prey in a shooting range,
Targeted by another fool, sharp and strange,

Armed far better, aiming for your brain,
These cursed lands breed idiots, insane.
Where darkness reigns, not even a spark —
Only lies towering like Everest stark.

You live trapped in a zoo’s grim cage,
Half-beasts roaming, full of rage.
The fool breeds even in chains,
Joyful in his new-world pains.

He feels no soul’s sharp sting or grief,
Blind to fascist’s vile deceit.
The world destroyed “for his health’s sake,”
But if no blood flows, the fool will take

His feast, and think it’s all a game,
While wisdom guards against the shame.
Fools run the madhouse worldwide —
With liars, thugs standing side by side.

Fools cheer their masks — the muzzles bind
The dumbest slaves, deaf and blind.
If cops don’t wear helmets yet,
And graves aren’t filling just yet,

Then all is fine — let’s eat and breed,
Drink on, ignore the growing greed.
No need for truth to slaves so blind —
The fake virus will end mankind.



---------------------



FOOL

All’s wasted under this **** sky.
Only fools find joy — no need to try.
You’re target practice in a firing range,
Another idiot shoots you — cold and strange.

Better armed, they smash your mind,
This hell breeds idiots, deaf and blind.
No light, just lies piled Everest-high,
You live trapped in a beastmen’s lie.

Fools breed behind cold bars,
Happy slaves to their new scars.
No pain, no truth inside their head,
Blind to fascists — death and dread.

They “protect” your health by killing this world,
No blood? Then fools feast, flags unfurled.
Wisdom fights — fools run the show,
With liars, thugs in sick combo.

Masks choke dumb slaves, no hope in sight,
Cops without helmets, graves not quite right.
So all is fine — keep eating, breed,
Drown in lies, ignore the need.

Truth is poison to the dumb,
Fake virus wipes out some.
The fool’s last laugh — a final breath,
Doomed to march to silent death.



---------------------



FOOL'S WAR CRY

Fools feast while the world decays,
Brains are targets in the haze.
Masks choke slaves, cops lie and cheat —
Wake or rot beneath their feet!

**** the lies, burn the fools,
Break the chains, smash their rules!
No mercy for the dumb and blind —
Fight with fire, free your mind!



---------------------



FOOL'S WAR SCREAM

Fools breed plague, a choking blight,
Brains get blasted — no respite.
Masks on slaves, cops choke and lie,
Truth gets crushed, let ******* die!

Burn the fools, no mercy shown,
Crush their lies, break every bone!
No pity for the dumb and weak —
Rage, revolt, the strong don’t speak!

Chains will snap beneath our boots,
Crush the **** and rotten suits!
Wake the fire, strike with hate —
Fools are fodder for the fate!



---------------------



SHADOWS OF THE FOOL

Fools crawl blind in endless night,
Feeding lies that **** the light.
Masks suffocate, chains grow tight —
Death awaits the weak, the blind, the trite.

No salvation, no reprieve,
Only blood that fools conceive.
Rot and filth beneath their skin,
This is where the darkness wins.

Crush the plague, the human ****,
Break their bones — no hope will come.
Silent screams and shattered bones,
The fools will rot in hell alone.

Rise, the fire burns so cold,
Truth forgotten, lies unfold.
In the shadows, fury waits —
Fools will drown in twisted fates.



---------------------



SHROUDED IN FOOL'S DARKNESS

Fools drag chains through endless night,
Breathing poison, killing light.
Blindly crawling in their hell,
Souls enslaved in cursed shell.

Masks choke tight — no air, no hope,
In this pit, no chance to cope.
Filth and rot beneath cracked skin,
Sins of mind, the plague within.

Madness rules, the world decays,
Truth consumed by lies’ malaise.
Silent screams behind the veil,
Broken wills that always fail.

Burn them down — the pestilence,
Crush the spawn of impotence.
Let the shadows swallow all,
Fools shall drown beneath their fall.

No salvation waits for those
Whose minds rot where darkness grows.
Hell’s own puppets, lost and blind —
Wretched fools of cursed kind.

Rise the fire, cold and grim,
Light’s last breath grows faint and dim.
But in ashes, fury wakes —
Vengeance born when darkness breaks.



---------------------



FOOL'S WRATH — NO MERCY GIVEN

Fools drag chains through ****-stained night,
Choking lies that **** the light.
Blinded, cursed, and dragged to hell,
Souls crushed hard inside their shell.

Masks suffocate, no breath, no hope,
In this *******, no way to cope.
Rotting guts and filthy skin,
Mindless plague — the devil’s sin.

Madness rules — the world’s decayed,
Truth’s been ripped and torn away.
Silent screams beneath the veil,
Broken wills that always fail.

Burn the vermin, purge the ****,
Crush their lies till all is numb.
Let the shadows drown them deep,
Fools deserve the grave they keep.

No salvation for the blind,
Rotting filth that eats the mind.
Hell’s own puppets, slaves in chains —
Pathetic fools, the world’s remains.

Raise the fire, cold and grim,
Light’s last breath flickers and dims.
From the ash, a fury wakes —
Vengeance born as darkness breaks.



---------------------



FOOL’S WRATH

Fools rot, blind slaves in chains,
Breeding lies, disease remains.
Rotting brains and broken souls —
Hell’s own dogs with filthy goals.

Masks choke, silence screams,
Lost in lies, crushed dreams.
Burn the ****, purge the pain —
Only ashes will remain.

No hope for stupid fools,
Wretched slaves, broken rules.
Fire rises — darkness falls,
Vengeance shouts — the final call.

Truth is weapon, lies decay,
Fools will rot — no other way.
Hell’s plague on this ****** earth,
Time to burn the fool’s false worth.



---------------------



Scab

Those pulling strings won’t blow their cover—
Invisible behind the show.
Clowns act out the ****’s script, no other,
Whip lies slashing, beating low.

The puppetmaster lurks in shadows,
Dreams to bind all strings for life.
Fools groan, curse clowns with bitter echoes,
But truth’s denied amid the strife.

To **** all thought—that’s ruling’s purpose,
Success lies in dumbing down the crowd.
From age to age, the mind grows worthless,
Idiocy reigns fierce and loud.

For most are fools, a pliant herd,
Easy to steer through clownish acts.
The **** got bold—now plans are stirred
To build death camps for killing facts.

And CowID showed the brutal truth:
How simple it is to enslave—
A global camp for fools uncouth,
A world infected by the scab of knaves.



---------------------



The Scab

The ones who pull the strings won’t die —
They hide unseen behind the freakshow.
Clowns obey the filthy lie,
Whipping truth with every blow.

The puppetmaster basks in shade,
Dreams of binding all the strings.
Fools moan, curse clowns, but truth’s betrayed —
No honor in the puppets’ kings.

To **** all thought — the ruler’s goal,
Success in dumbing down the breed.
Generation dull, a blackened hole,
Idiots spawned like rotting ****.

The herd of fools is all they need,
So easy to control the mob.
The **** got brazen, plotting greed —
Death camps built for easier job.

CowID proved how **** simple,
To cage the world in hellish bars.
A plague of scabs, dumb and crippled,
Ruled by freaks with empty scars.



---------------------



Tragic Themes

Tragic themes, best left alone,
By fools too dull to hear or see,
It’s easier in Hell to rot
When dumb and mute — a misery.

Dumb is he whose mind and soul
Turn deaf to tragedy’s call,
Madness is the heir they sow —
Into ranks of Satan’s thrall.

Satan’s servants, blind and numb,
Fed with false hope, thick and lame,
Mind’s a slurry, mush, and sludge —
Fascism’s seed is sown in shame.

Dull fools always march to fascism,
Chewing up the last of honor,
Those with conscience face the end,
Cut down silent, no defender.

Not just bullets end their days —
Crushed in silence, left to drown,
In poverty, forgotten deep,
No one hears them ’midst the clown.

All media’s chained to devils —
CowID proved the puppets’ role.
With new devils come new lies,
Fascism’s face takes darker toll.

****** now by lies alone —
Darkness’ chief and cruelest art,
Reducing humans to mere beasts —
Hell’s chaos tearing hearts apart.



---------------------



Propaganda

Propaganda’s like Uganda —
Level of “progress” is crap.
Run by **** who feed on Satan,
Spewing ashes, poison sap.

Dumbheads get it dumped on top —
People bear it, brains decay,
This foul *******’s cruelty
Rips their minds and burns away.

**** pulls strings, the clown’s a puppet,
Dancing dumb on TV’s stage,
“Politician” triples lies,
Cash his only real wage.

Goebbels spins in Hell’s own vat,
Wild beasts trust his crap with zeal,
Worship dung with sick devotion —
Filth that’s forced on us to feel.

Half-baked Fuhrer hits the box,
Blabbering lies to all who hear,
“King’s not real” — spit it out,
Trample truth without a tear.

Two-faced Fuhrer rules the scene,
Propaganda’s worth the price.
Beasts in war, unseen but deadly,
Destroy souls in silent ice.

Stupid world with open ears,
Forgot how to think and see,
War’s real trophy is the souls,
Who let beasts inside their plea.



---------------------



Storm Within

There’s no such thing as "happiness"
For slaves so weak and small.
Only storms and darkness reign —
If your mind begins to fall.

You must rebuild from inside,
Learn this truth and keep it true:
Spirit’s fire alone can break
The hell that’s crushing you.

This hell drives souls to death,
Not just the flesh, but deep —
A worthy man becomes a worm,
Lost in shadows steep.

Trust nothing but yourself,
These gates lead to the end.
Deception cuts like knives on paths
That never seem to bend.

Your soul is torn to shreds —
Heal yourself or die.
Sooner or later it will break,
No matter how you try.

Seek no teacher’s hollow words —
Chase the shadows out.
Your mind’s a cesspool — filled with crap,
Fighting without doubt.

The stench won’t just fade away —
Drive that filth from sight,
Or hell will reign within your mind,
Darkening all your light.

Strength and wisdom live inside,
Cleanse your thoughts, uproot lies,
Weeds of falsehood sprout like vines,
Sown for many days gone by.

Sharpen your critical blade —
Cut through the ****** deceit.
To hell with fake politeness —
Burn lies in scorching heat.

Engage in work creative,
Love the process, not the prize.
The sprouts you grow will feed your soul,
And make your spirit rise.

You are your judge and reward,
Joy returns through the night,
Amid the nightmare called existence —
When you reclaim your light.

Stay clear from blind sheep’s herd —
Guard your strength with care.
Their animal "prana" poisons —
Run fast from that snare!

Turn your gaze from the masses,
Focus deep on the known:
The path of true awakening,
Where lies get overthrown.

Concentrate on "other worlds,"
Not this prison of dread,
For in obsession, madness dwells —
And fear will cloud your head.

These "other worlds" are spirit’s flight,
A higher realm to own.
Cast off rotten crutches — dead weight,
And leave them all alone.

This hellish world is all crutches —
Built on idols vile.
Tear down these false gods, cleanse your soul —
Heed only lyre’s wild.

For in harsh poetry,
Worlds beyond break through the gloom —
Sharp as blades when poets speak,
Their truths cut through the tomb.

There’s much more yet to say —
Lyre’s burden is deep,
But this tale must wait for now —
More secrets you shall keep.



---------------------



Storm Within

No joy exists for wretched slaves,
Just storms that rip your mind apart.
When spirit’s weak, you walk the graves —
A broken soul, a shattered heart.

Rebuild yourself from deep inside,
Learn this hard truth — your inner flame
Alone can burn the hellworld’s lies,
Destroy the shackles, break the chain.

This hell drives souls toward decay,
Turns worthy men to crawling filth.
The devil’s slaves obey, obey —
Consumed by darkness, drowned in guilt.

Trust no one — only yourself,
These gates lead straight to death’s domain.
Deception slashes like a blade,
Your soul’s blood spilled in bitter pain.

Your heart’s a battlefield, all torn —
Heal now or die beneath the weight.
The poison’s deep; the night is worn —
You face the endless hand of fate.

Forget the teachers, fools, and liars —
Expel the shadows from your mind.
Your thoughts are cesspools, rotted pyres,
Where toxic filth is intertwined.

The stench won’t fade; you must uproot
This plague or hell will reign inside.
Your consciousness, the only root —
Clear lies before they crush your pride.

Strength and wisdom dwell within,
Purge your thoughts, uproot the weeds.
Falsehood’s seeds breed endless sin —
They feed on pain and darkest deeds.

Sharpen your sword of clarity —
Slice lies with ruthless, deadly force.
Forget the mask of “politeness” —
Burn deceit without remorse.

Create with passion, fight with love,
The process is the only prize.
The sprouts you nurture rise above
The poison and the hateful lies.

You are your judge, your only prize,
Joy can return despite the night.
In this hellscape called "existence,"
You wrest your soul back into light.

Avoid the sheep — their dumbed-down herd,
Their “animal breath” will poison you.
Run far, escape their stinking herd,
Before their plague infects you too.

Divert your gaze from empty crowds,
Focus sharp on truth’s own path.
Seek out the worlds beyond the clouds —
Beyond the rage, beyond the wrath.

Fixate on other realms, not here —
This prison built on fear and hate.
Obsession breeds the madman’s sneer,
And fear enslaves the human state.

Those “other worlds” — the spirit’s flight,
A higher place beyond decay.
Cast off the rotten crutches, blight —
Discard false idols, burn away.

This world’s a cage of crutches, lies,
Built on foul idols, dead and cold.
Tear down these shrines with fire in eyes,
Cleanse your soul, be fierce and bold.

For poetry can cut like knives,
Revealing worlds beyond the night.
The harshest words are battle cries,
Truth’s razor piercing dark with light.

There’s more to say — the lyre knows —
But secrets wait in shadowed folds.
The story deep inside still grows,
More truths remain to be told.



---------------------



Storm Within

No joy for slaves who crawl and rot,
Just endless storms inside the brain.
When spirit’s crushed, you’re what you’re not —
A hollow shell consumed by pain.

Reforge your soul from ash and flame,
Embrace the fury deep within.
Only fire can burn this shame,
And break the chains of flesh and sin.

This hell drives souls into the pit,
Turns proud men into crawling waste.
The devil’s dogs obey and sit,
Their honor lost, their will disgraced.

Believe no one — just trust your blood,
The gates to death swing wide and black.
Deception’s knives drip poisoned flood,
And drag your spirit’s life off track.

Your soul’s a battlefield of scars,
Heal fast or drown beneath the weight.
The poison sinks, the night is mars,
You stand before your final fate.

Forget the fools, the liars’ lies —
Purge shadows from your mental core.
Your mind’s a swamp where darkness lies,
A cesspool breeding endless gore.

The stench won’t fade — root out the plague,
Or hell will claim your very breath.
Your consciousness must fight and rage,
Destroy deceit, defy your death.

Inside you dwell the strength and light,
Clear out the weeds, uproot the rot.
Falsehood’s seeds breed endless blight —
They feed on all that’s good and fought.

Sharpen your blade — relentless, sharp,
Slice lies to ashes, burn their veil.
Forget the mask, the fake “sharpsharp” —
The truth will carve and never fail.

Create with fire, fight with hate,
Love every stroke, embrace the strife.
Your growing shoots will dominate
The sickness choking all your life.

You are the judge, the warrior’s prize,
Joy can return from darkest hell.
In this nightmare called "existence,"
You wrest your soul from death’s cold spell.

Avoid the sheep, the dumbed-down horde,
Their stench will poison flesh and mind.
Run fast, escape their cursed sword,
Before their plague enslaves mankind.

Turn eyes away from empty herds,
Fix gaze on realms beyond the cage.
Seek worlds where spirit flies like birds —
Beyond the fury, fear, and rage.

Focus sharp on other planes,
This world’s a cage of fear and lies.
Madness grows where darkness reigns,
And fear is law beneath these skies.

Those “other worlds” — the spirit’s fire,
A realm beyond decay and death.
Cast off the crutches, false desire —
Burn idols cold with final breath.

This world’s a prison made of lies,
Built on idols foul and dead.
Tear down those shrines, watch falsehood die,
Cleanse your soul — rise from the dead.

Poetry’s a sword that cuts,
Revealing realms beyond the dark.
Harsh words ignite, fierce thunderstruts,
Truth’s blade ignites the faintest spark.

There’s more to say — the lyre screams —
But secrets wait beyond the veil.
The story’s deep — a flood of dreams,
More truths await beyond the pale.



---------------------



Storm Within

No joy for slaves who rot and crawl,
Only storms that drag you down.
When spirit’s crushed — you’re nothing at all —
A crawling beast beneath the crown.

Reforge your soul in blazing hell,
Embrace the wrath that burns inside.
Only fire can break this spell —
And shred the chains of flesh and pride.

This pit of hell drives souls to sludge,
Turns kings to vermin, fit to die.
The devil’s dogs bark loud and judge,
Their honor dead, beneath the sky.

Trust no ****** — trust your blood,
The gates to death swing wide and black.
The lies will stab you like a flood,
Dragging your soul down a broken track.

Your mind’s a swamp of poison and ****,
A cesspool breeding endless death.
The stench won’t leave, you must commit
To purge the rot with iron breath.

Within you burns the primal light,
Rip out the weeds, crush every lie.
The seeds of poison choke your sight —
A graveyard ‘neath a toxic sky.

Sharpen the blade, relentless steel,
Slice through the plague and burn the veil.
No tact, no mercy — lies must kneel,
Their carcasses feed the hellish gale.

Create with rage, destroy with fire,
Love every scar that marks the fight.
Your wrath will rise, it won’t expire —
The darkness cowers at your light.

You’re judge, executioner, and flame,
Joy’s return from Hell’s cold grip.
In nightmare’s depths, reclaim your name —
Rip life from Death’s corrupting slip.

Avoid the sheep, the herd of fools,
Their stench will poison all they touch.
Run fast, escape their fatal rules,
Their poisoned breath kills much too much.

Turn your gaze from empty herds,
Fix on realms beyond this cage.
Seek worlds where freedom breaks the words,
Beyond the fear, the rage, the rage.

Focus sharp on spirit’s plane,
This world’s a cage of fear and lies.
Madness rules where darkness reigns,
And Death commands beneath these skies.

Other worlds — the fire of soul,
Realms beyond decay and death.
Cast away the crutches’ role —
Burn false idols with your breath.

This world’s a prison built on lies,
Idols foul and long since dead.
Tear their temples down — watch truth rise,
Cleanse your soul — resurrect the dead.

Poetry’s a blade that cuts,
Reveals the realms beyond the night.
Harsh words like thunder — deafening ruts —
Truth’s blade ignites the final fight.

More to say — the lyre screams —
Secrets wait beyond the veil.
A flood of wrath, a stream of dreams,
More truth awaits beyond the pale.



---------------------



Inner Storm

No joy for slaves in hell’s decay,
Only storms that drag you down.
When spirit dies — you’re just the prey,
A filthy beast beneath the crown.

Reforge yourself inside the flame,
Embrace the wrath that burns your core.
Only fire can break the chain,
And drag you back from death’s dark door.

This pit of poison breeds the ******,
Turns kings to filth, their honor sold.
The devil’s puppets grip the land,
Their lies like chains, their hearts are cold.

Trust no **** — trust only blood,
The gates to death swing wide and black.
Lies tear your soul like poisoned flood,
Dragging you down a shattered track.

Your mind’s a sewer filled with rot,
A cesspool boiling with disease.
The stench won’t leave — you must fight lot,
And purge the slime with iron breeze.

Inside you burns the primal spark,
Rip out the weeds, destroy the blight.
The poison seeds choke out the dark —
A graveyard crawling in the night.

Sharpen the blade — unflinching steel,
Cut through the plague, burn every lie.
No mercy now — make demons kneel,
Their carcasses feed hell’s black sky.

Create with fury, forge with pain,
Love every scar that marks the war.
Your wrath will rise and never wane —
Darkness will cower, flee, and roar.

Judge, executioner, and flame,
Joy reborn from Hell’s cold grip.
In nightmare’s depths reclaim your name —
Rip life from Death’s corrupting slip.

Avoid the sheep, the dumb, the blind,
Their stench will poison all they touch.
Run fast, escape their fatal bind,
Their poisoned breath kills far too much.

Turn your gaze from empty herds,
Fix on realms beyond this cage.
Seek worlds where freedom breaks the words,
Beyond the fear, the rage, the rage.

Focus sharp on spirit’s plane,
This world’s a cage of fear and lies.
Madness rules where darkness reigns,
And Death commands beneath these skies.

Other worlds — the soul’s fierce fire,
Realms beyond the decay and death.
Cast away crutches — false desire —
Burn idols down with righteous breath.

This world’s a prison built on lies,
Idols foul and long since dead.
Tear their temples down — truth will rise,
Cleanse your soul — resurrect the dead.

Poetry’s a blade that cuts,
Revealing realms beyond the night.
Harsh words like thunder — deafening ruts —
Truth’s blade ignites the final fight.

More awaits — the lyre screams loud —
Secrets lie beyond the veil.
Wrath floods forth — a storm, a cloud —
Truth’s fire will shatter the pale.



---------------------



Ragequake

No bliss for slaves beneath the sun —
Only storms that break and burn.
When spirit’s crushed, the end’s begun,
You’re just a beast with no return.

Rebuild inside, ignite your core,
Let fury blast the chains away.
Only wrath can settle score,
And drag you screaming from decay.

This hell breeds fiends that wear a crown,
Kings turned to vermin, sold to lies.
Devil’s pawns, they drag us down,
Their venom poisoning the skies.

Trust nothing but your blood and bone,
Death’s gates swing wide for all who fall.
Lies rip the soul and grind to stone,
A shattered mind in hell’s black hall.

Your mind’s a sewer, foul and thick,
A rotten pit that stinks of doom.
The stench won’t fade — it claws and sticks,
Purge the slime or face your tomb.

Inside you burns a savage flame,
Tear out the weeds that choke your breath.
Poison seeds born in your name,
Feed the worms of creeping death.

Sharpen sharp your ruthless sword —
Cut lies to ash, burn every mask.
No mercy now, strike the horde,
Feed hell’s fire — complete the task.

Create in fury, build in pain,
Love each scar earned in this fight.
Your wrath is pure, it breaks the chain —
Darkness flees before your light.

Judge, executioner, flame —
Joy reborn from hellish grip.
In nightmares fierce reclaim your name —
Drag life back from death’s cold slip.

Flee the flock, the blind, the fools,
Their stench will poison all they touch.
Escape the deathly sheepfold rules,
Their breath’s a plague that kills too much.

Turn your eyes to realms beyond,
Fix your soul on distant planes.
Seek worlds where truth is found,
Beyond fear’s chains and madness’ chains.

Focus sharp on spirit’s flame —
This world’s a cage of lies and dread.
Madness rules and death proclaims —
Dark shadows linger where we tread.

Other worlds — soul’s raging fire,
Realms beyond this rotten death.
Throw down crutches, false desire —
Burn idols with your righteous breath.

This world’s a prison built on lies,
Temples shattered, idols dead.
Tear it down, let truth arise —
Cleanse your soul, raise from the dead.

Poetry is the razor’s edge,
Cutting through the darkest night.
Words that roar, the prophet’s pledge —
Truth’s fire sets the final fight.

More awaits beyond the veil,
Lyre’s scream breaks the silence tight.
Wrath ignites a thunderous gale —
Truth’s storm will shatter endless night.



---------------------



Pyrrhic Victory

The media brazenly lies,
Wiping minds, dimming eyes,
And we obey the Dark’s commands,
Marching blind to no-man’s lands.

The world soaked in total lies,
Like an ocean mad and wide,
A victory for beasts deranged—
Conformist sheep, forever chained.

No country left to call its own,
The fire of death in Hell is sown.
The Earth itself—Hell’s twisted throne,
Where traitors thrive, corrupt, alone.

Only one thing wakes the dead—
The sharp command: “Attack!” it said.
Fascism rules where minds have died,
In lies and fear we all abide.

False CowID exposed the game,
Then madness warred without a name.
Before that, AIDS had dulled the throng—
Now needles lead the blind along,

Turning sheep to wicked cattle,
Obedient to evil’s battle.

The whole world’s gripped by dark control,
A madman leads the captive soul
To camps anew—this vile disgrace.
If we allowed this evil place,

Then we must bear the blame and cost,
For letting all humanity be lost.

A Pyrrhic win against the foe—
Burning slaves with evil’s glow,
To clear the field for cruel experiments,
Where darkness breeds new torments.



---------------------



The Luciferian System

No matter what problems rise,
No matter what barriers stand—
Once you bow to System’s lies,
You’re no more than a dog, a hand

Ready to obey on scraps,
“Attack!” you’ll do with slavish zeal.
For fake safety, empty snacks,
You’ll crush freedom’s fragile feel.

Prepare to face the slaughterhouse—
Betrayers get disposed with speed.
Younger dogs will take your vows,
It’s all numbers here they heed.

No matter what problems come,
Save your soul through all the lies.
Though this truth is old and numb,
Mirages cloud your weary eyes.

The System’s base is darkest haze,
Its weapon—lies that cut like knives.
We live in these declining days—
Don’t count money, count your life.

From the global kennel’s cage,
If your soul is light and free,
You’ll set sail for Spirit’s stage—
But the trained dog falls to the deep.



---------------------



The Luciferian System

No matter what walls block your way,
No matter what hellscape you face—
Once you bow to the System’s sway,
You’re just a beast, a bred disgrace.

Ready to snap at the crumb,
“Attack!” they command with cold sneer.
For fake safety, junk to numb,
You’ll **** the freedom you hold dear.

Brace yourself for the killing floor—
Traitors get crushed without a thought.
Younger hounds will race for more,
Just numbers in this brutal plot.

No matter what chaos breaks loose,
Save your soul amidst the lies.
This old truth’s a fatal noose,
Mirages blind the wise.

The System thrives on thickest smoke,
Its weapon is pure filthy lies.
We’re drowning in the final choke—
Count not your coins, but your cries.

From the worldwide dog pound’s hell,
If your soul’s still sharp and clean,
You’ll break free from this cursed shell—
While trained dogs drown in the obscene.



---------------------



The Luciferian System

No matter what **** walls arise,
No matter how the darkness bleeds—
If you bow down, betray the skies,
You’re nothing but a slave who feeds.

A savage hound, a mindless beast,
Snapping for your pitiful crumbs.
“Attack!” they howl—the cruel feast
Of broken souls, the silence drums.

Welcome to the slaughterhouse,
Where traitors bleed and rot in chains.
Young wolves sharpen sharpened jaws,
Counting only flesh and gains.

No hope remains—just twisted lies,
A fog that chokes the breathing light.
Your soul’s a corpse beneath the skies,
Drowned deep in endless, soulless night.

The System’s plague is darkest blight,
Its weapon forged from poison breath.
We march into eternal night—
Not coin, but spirit meets its death.

From global kennels, reeking hell,
If your soul’s not cracked or sold,
You’ll break these ****** chains of spell—
While trained dogs drown in filth and cold.

Bow not to Lucifer’s cold grin—
Or fall into the black abyss.
Where screams are swallowed deep within,
And light is but a dying kiss.



---------------------



Luciferian System

No matter how the chaos screams,
No matter how the darkness swells—
Submit yourself, become their fiend,
A dog condemned to endless hell.

A beast enslaved, mind torn to shreds,
Snarling for your scraps of lies.
“Attack!” commands the puppeteers,
While freedom in your spirit dies.

Welcome to the slaughter pit,
Where traitors choke on bitter chains.
Young wolves prowl, teeth sharpened sharp—
Counting only blood and gains.

No light escapes this poisoned veil,
No hope beyond the blackened breath.
Your soul a carcass, crushed and frail,
Drowning in eternal death.

The System’s core—deception’s maw,
Its venom seeps through every vein.
We walk the path of final law—
Where spirit bleeds and breaks in pain.

From kennels vast and world consumed,
If you’re not cracked, if still you fight,
You’ll break the spell, resist the doom—
While trained dogs fade into night.

Bow to Lucifer? Be ******.
Fall into the void below,
Where screams are swallowed by the ******,
And light’s last ember flickers low.

There is no mercy in this tomb,
No salvation for the weak—
Only endless, yawning gloom,
Where darkness reigns and hope is bleak.

Fight or fall in shadow’s grip,
The abyss waits with open jaws—
But to kneel is your soul’s death trip,
In Lucifer’s cruel claws.



---------------------



Luciferian System — Descent into the Abyss

No matter what hell haunts your mind,
No matter what walls close you in—
Submit yourself, become their kind,
A hound bred for eternal sin.

A slave to shadows, stripped of will,
Snarling, broken, licking lies.
“Attack!” the masters coldly shrill,
While your last freedom slowly dies.

Into the slaughterhouse of souls,
Where traitors bleed without a sound,
Young wolves hunt, control the roles,
Counting corpses, cold and drowned.

No light escapes this cursed cage,
No hope survives the poisoned breath.
Your spirit crushed beneath the rage—
A carcass fed to endless death.

The System’s heart is lies and plague,
Its venom floods your every vein.
We live the age of final plague—
Where only agony remains.

From global kennels, vast and grim,
If soul is light enough to flee,
Break through the darkness, tear the rim—
Or drown with dogs in misery.

Bow down to Lucifer’s cruel throne?
Fall deep into the endless pit—
Where screams are crushed and all alone,
Hope’s dying embers barely lit.

No mercy waits beyond this door,
No grace for those too weak to fight—
Just endless night, a brutal war,
Where darkness smothers every light.

Resist or perish in its grip,
The abyss yawns with savage jaws—
To kneel is death, a poisoned sip,
Held tight within the devil’s claws.



---------------------



Revolt Against the Abyss

Break the chains — no time for fear,
This System’s venom rules too long!
Their lies are swords, their grip severe,
But we rise fierce, defy the wrong.

No slave to puppets’ vile commands,
No leash to bite, no throat to choke.
We burn their lies with open hands,
And crush their fake, accursed yoke.

The Devil’s dogs shall drown in screams,
Their Kennels cracked by rebel fire.
We shatter all their twisted schemes,
Their hollow gods—consume, expire!

The darkness grins, but we bring light,
A blaze of wrath, a flood of truth.
No fake salvation, no false right—
Just iron will, the sword of proof.

This war is ours—no place for lies,
No mercy for the blind and weak.
We’ll strike the venom where it lies,
Expose the frauds, the snakes who speak.

Rise up, your spirit cannot die,
Though hell surrounds with ruthless claws.
From ashes, flames will pierce the sky—
We are the storm that breaks their laws.

No more slaves! No quiet despair!
No lies, no chains, no false consent!
We tear the mask, reveal the snare—
And claim the night with fierce intent.

Fight on, the abyss will crack and fall—
When madness meets the warrior’s roar.



---------------------



Step into the Abyss

No turning back — just step ahead,
Break chains and shatter frozen dread!
Your gaze a blade, your heart is steel,
Burn down your fear, ignite the zeal.

In this hell where darkness reigns,
Light tears the veils, the falsehood wanes!
Enemies quake, their masks will crack,
Their lies will shatter — no turning back.

You’re no slave, no puppet weak,
Rebellion’s pulse runs wild and sleek!
Soul’s fire — fearless, sharp as swords,
Let false worlds drown in mocking hordes.

Though hell still crushes fragile earth,
You’re the fracture, lightning’s birth!
Break the system, cast off chains,
A rebel’s roar will burn the plains.

Your spirit — lightning, thunder’s strike,
Where fears turn dust, lies fold like pike.
Rise, fighter, shout into the night —
Let liars fall in blazing light!



---------------------



No Mercy for the Puppeteers

Chains will snap, and heads will roll,
No mercy for the puppeteers’ control.
Their rotten lies, their toxic breath,
We'll drag them screaming down to death.

False gods crumble, masks will burn,
The tides of rage begin to turn.
No place for traitors, liars, snakes —
Their hollow empire splits and breaks.

The weak obey, the strong revolt,
With sharpened minds and no remorse.
This world’s a cage, but hell awaits,
For those who serve the hands of fate.

So raise the fist, embrace the pain,
In ashes’ storm, we rise again.
No compromise, no silent truce,
Destroy the liars — end abuse.



---------------------



Horror of Non-Being

Worse than worse — your life decays,
Clear as day — no light betrays.
Not a moment, not a breath,
Free from thoughts of hell and death.

The whole world’s ripped, the whole world’s lost,
Plunging deep, the final cost.
The ninth great wave of lies and pain,
Drowning souls in ceaseless rain.

Rotten lies have claimed it all,
Wounds that bleed, the endless crawl.
They just whine — weak fight, no grit,
Idiots howl, their fate is writ.

Enough’s enough — this hell must break!
For kin’s disgrace, the fascists quake.
They built a camp, a deathly tomb,
A cesspit’s stink, eternal doom.

Only Sun can burn this Bedlam,
Scorch to bottom, break the dam.
Tremble now, you foul disgrace,
For betraying Mind and Grace.

Vile creatures face their doom,
Mad hordes accounted soon.
You’ll rise again if spirit’s tough,
Return to those who wait above.

They wait for brave who kept their pride,
Die with skill, no place to hide.
The time has come — embrace the dark,
The final reckoning will spark.



---------------------



Horror of Non-Being

Worse than hell, your wasted life,
Clear as glass — no end to strife.
Not a second, not a breath,
Free from shadows cast by death.

World torn open, torn to shreds,
Falling fast to endless dregs.
Ninth wave crashing, lies ablaze,
Drowning all in toxic haze.

Rot and filth have crushed it all,
Bleeding wounds, the final fall.
Whiners whimper, fight is lost,
Idiots howl — the world’s their cost.

Break this Hell, it’s time to burn!
Shame on kin who won’t return.
Fascist **** built camps of pain,
Stinking cesspools drenched in shame.

Only Sun can scorch this pit,
Burn it down, the hate must split.
Tremble, worm, you sold your soul,
Betrayed the Mind, betrayed the Whole.

Filthy beasts will face the fire,
Mad mobs crushed beneath the pyre.
Rise again if spirit’s steel,
Back to those who dare to feel.

They await the brave and true,
Those who kept their honor due.
Die with purpose, die with hate,
Now’s the time to seal your fate.



---------------------



Rotten Core

******* ain't no **** coupons —
They shear us, hoarding MARAZM.
Fools block all our way — these monsters
Build their traps to feed the chasm.

No leader’s worse than the rabble
Who blindly worship their lies.
Culture’s fight is now a shamble —
No more nations, just ash skies.

An ******* can sometimes wake,
Grasp a shred, refuse to bend,
But he chose to chew and breed —
Chose the evil in the end.

Selling out for filthy pay,
Feeding greed that only grows,
Gnawing fast to ****** the prize,
Diving deep in putrid throes.

**** like these—no longer human—
Satan reigns their freakish god,
And this curse has lasted ages,
Centuries of devil’s fraud.

No way back—history’s twisted,
All is falsehood, all is dark,
Blindly stumbling through the shadows,
Wandering without a spark.

Fake science rules the present,
Crafting lies with polished skill,
CowID’s proof of madness,
Feeding chaos, breaking will.

******* are our stumbling blocks,
The Führer just a clown of Night.
No peace left, just pens and fences,
For beasts and cages tight.

Reason’s few are fading fast,
Doomed to vanish day by day,
Everything is lost, consumed—
Only fire burns decay.

The Sun brings blazing justice—
Will scorch this mad, corrupted world.
But sheep can’t see the coming blaze,
The endless feast of lies unfurled.

If you trust these filthy fiends,
Blindly follow their commands,
The more the hate and treachery—
The faster death consumes these lands.

Sun and Earth are Reason’s forces,
Fake science gets its checkmate move.
When madness rules the many,
All falls down in final groove.

They don’t need these *******,
Darkness, traitors, filthy spawn,
Ruling with their tons of lies—
Rotten core before the dawn.



---------------------



****

All this **** — hopeless, rotten,
Pathetic and a joke.
Monsters lie with mouths wide open —
But **** devours every hoax.

This ****** world’s corrupt and rotten,
Betrayal’s their **** trade.
If you’re smart and brave, you’re dead men—
They die, fade, and degrade.

Drowning deep in ***** and sorrow,
Crawling out just for a flash.
Cities, towns—all pens of *******—
Madness bound to crash.

And the broken—“normal,” hailed,
Only fools create the rage.
Gluttony, *****, and burning pits—
The crown of this bleak stage.

Development and dreams?
Three quarters of the sheep.
Are they human? No—just slaughter—
Goats for demons’ keep.



---------------------



****

This world’s pure **** — no hope, no light,
Lies feed the pigs who lost the fight.
Brains rot, guts choke on bitter bile,
Sheep march blind, no will, no guile.

Smart die fast, weak breed the plague,
Madness rules — the truth’s a vague.
Cities burn in mental chains,
Screams drown out the dying brains.

Eat the lies, choke on the grime,
**** devours all sense and time.
Goat-men sold to devil’s game,
Slaughtered sheep with cursed names.



---------------------



To the Heights...

A tropical night in Moldova’s land,
By day, the sun scorches, fierce and grand.
Its molten chains may melt away —
For minds too sharp, no place to stay.

The Spirit’s caught in endless traps,
A battle for the soul unwraps.
Traitors fire like guns on sight,
Lies and fear cut like a knife.

Soulless armies breed in war,
The world’s a stench, a hellish core.
In Gorky’s play, we sink so low —
At bottom lies the crushing woe.

Long ago, Tsvetaeva knew,
This place’s price — pure hellish glue.
The noose became her grim release —
Only fools find here their peace.

Tropical nights, the Alps aflame,
The Sun burns down the cursed game.
Hell’s black dust will scatter wide —
With it, the horrors, fear, and pride.

The path to Heights beyond this pain
Runs through the Spirit’s cleansing flame.
Only few will leave that Hell —
Those who refuse the darkness’ sell.



---------------------



To the Heights...

Tropical nights in Moldova’s hell,
By day, the sun’s a scorching spell.
It melts the chains of frozen minds —
No place for souls, just death it finds.

Spirit trapped in vicious snares,
The fight for souls — soaked in despairs.
Traitors blast with venomed lies,
Fear sticky, choking, cold disguise.

Soulless beasts breed in this war,
The world’s a stench, a rotting core.
Gorky’s stage — the pit of pain,
Where only madness will remain.

Tsvetaeva saw it clear —
This hell’s no place for hope or fear.
Her noose became the final door —
Only fools endure this gore.

Tropical nights, the Alps ablaze,
The sun burns down the cursed maze.
Hell’s black ashes sweep the land,
Tearing down this cursed brand.

The road to Heights cuts through the fire,
Through Spirit’s wrath and fierce desire.
Few will rise from this abyss —
Those who won’t betray the kiss.



---------------------



Manipulating Minds

Manipulating minds —
The cruelest trade on Earth.
From childhood’s earliest finds,
They **** your Reason’s birth.

All school programs shape
To grind you into dust.
The loudest brutes escape,
Inside — the Void and rust.

But few will keep their brains,
While others fall like prey,
Trapped in different chains,
Their souls just fade away.

“Culture” and the box of lies
Will finish off us all.
Here Hell itself defies —
Inhuman triumph’s call.

Work’s a chain, enslaving,
Rest’s a total blank,
The foulest depraving —
Stop whining, stop the prank.

You must discern the snare,
Unmask each cunning trick.
This massive, toxic lair
Is vast and growing thick.

Huge funds have been poured
Into these crafted lies,
Not simple fibs, but war,
A science to disguise.

For years they study how
To blind us, tighten grips,
And every moment now
They sharpen poison-tips.

The art of weaving shame,
Bold, filthy, blatant fraud —
“Science” spins the game,
And fools applaud the fraud.

They’ll worship chains as wings,
Declare dull minds as wise,
And cruelty will bring
The fascist’s new disguise.

They need the stupid brute —
The perfect slave, controlled.
Thus floods the lies acute,
Each stream corrupts the soul.

In this vast flow, we drown,
All snared within the net.
Instead of thirst for truth —
A cesspool full of sweat.

Mindless trivia kills
The Spirit, Reason’s light —
The endless muck that spills
Feeds swarms that crawl at night.

You’ve turned a dung-born fly —
Your Spirit’s flame is dim.
While lies grow wild and high —
The source of every sin.

Yet freedom’s path remains —
Build worlds apart, alone.
Escape this Hell’s domains,
Create your own new throne.



---------------------



Center Your Soul

Center on Spirit deep,
And mute your noisy mind —
Then all the chains and lies
Will fade, no more to bind.

See with an open gaze,
Straight into core and truth.
The world’s a fascist maze,
A monster’s cruel booth.

That fiendish breed is “merry,”
Made madhouse here to stay.
And soon that madhouse turns
To *****’s endless fray.

Destroying Spirit’s light —
The core device of Hell.
To turn you dung-born fly,
They push you down to hell.

With poison and with lies,
They twist the minds of men.
Madness spreads like wildfire —
Especially with children.

They dumb the minds with care,
Programming the weak.
The soul and reason fade,
As darkened futures leak.

Under the pressure, fog
Crushes fragile youth.
Into a slave-mind fog,
Stupid, blind to truth.

A twisted, broken breed,
Emerges from this fray.
The herd turns dumb and blind —
To beasts that roam astray.

So easy to degrade,
With poverty and scorn,
No urge to seek the Source —
The Spirit dead, forlorn.

In the end, it kills
The last bright sparks of soul.
Reason rots away —
Humans no more, but lice, the whole.

They storm the “arena” —
That brutal ***** pit.
Pay dearly every time
To leave this lunatic.

The price is Spirit’s strain,
The last fierce fight to rise.
You’ll find your cleansing fire —
If you don’t shake or hide.

When you become as one
With yearning toward the Light,
You’ll never be a beast,
You’ll claim your answer’s right.

That answer burns within —
No gifts will come from them.
Soon all will forget
That only Spirit’s gem

Is worth the highest cost.
Ignite! Burn fierce and bright!
You’ll see then clear at last —
It’s not some “heaven’s” blight,

Nor dull oblivion’s sleep,
But Spirit’s fight to keep.
Josiah W Menzies Mar 2013
You grip my throat sporadically, erratically – not often.
And trickle in through passages and pores I can’t defend.
Treacle through fingers.
But you avoid me too, and I hate it just as much.

I wait for your hand to loosen,
I breathe cool air,
Then I feel your absence.

Your gloopy venom is addictive.
I tasted you once, and now my tongue yearns,
And eats itself –
It flickers and twists and spits its serpentine-self out. In vain.
A vague, dull shadowy lustre remains,
Undulating under baited breath,
For another foul injection.

In reality I fear you. I despise you. I hate you.
If you’d only never return,
I could spit you out forever,
And tongue sweeter, healthier, more benign stuff.
No more swilling,
No more idiosyncratic sways upon social norms,
High Society and empty smiles that stifle natural intentions.

You are a disease, and far from untreated.
You are the last drag, the last hit,
The very last dose that no one actually wants.

I rebuke myself wholeheartedly
At even entertaining the idea of having you in my company. Yet there you are –

In every message, in every ransacked draw,
In every turned out rucksack, every old coat pocket,
Every ***** shirt, every unstitched button,
In every visitor’s news, every car back-seat,
Every dusty notebook, every empty fruit-bowl,
Every old, long-unseen smile, every dowsed fire,
Every man woman and child I sit across the table from.

There you are. Somehow. In some form.
Turning my sweat cold like cheap wine,
In what is otherwise an already disturbingly depressing
Struggle to maintain some kind of equilibrium or serenity,
Let alone with your smug mug cropping up scornfully uninvited.

You ****** me before I recognise you.
Helping yourself to the food on my plate with a wink,
While I do nothing as if handcuffed, and chained at the soul.
Then I move to eat.
Hand to fork.
Fork to mouth.
And it tastes of you.
It reeks of you.
And if I were anything but human,
I’d spit you out onto the kitchen floor,
Stamp on the bile you’ve stolen from me,
Burn you with kerosene,
And wage a third world war on the very concept of you ever existing.

But I am a human.
And moments later you have me
‘******* and thinking of death’
As coy and Marvellian as you like.

I indulge in full-knowing paralysis,
Lapping up your unvanquished honeyed venom,
With a voraciousness that redefines Lovesick –
Giving it a whole new meaning
Going beyond the epitome of disgust.

Enslaved, you have me smash myself against the ceiling.
And eat myself over again from within.
Consuming me like the fire I found you in.

You have me rage and conspire against those I don’t know.
But I will conspire against you one-day.
You have me hate others, but I will forever hate you.
You have me search my soul and grate it upon street corners
And the pavement of city-centres,
While you gleefully, whimsically **** my past
Or polish vain, rose-tinted hopes that without you
I’d know were futile and unjust –
Until I ruin them myself, knowing all the while
That you are the author of my unnecessary devastations.

But I will smash your green demonic skull into obsolescence
In some back-alley where none will find your
Bubbling frothing corpse.
You will be utterly repudiated even by the rats.
And the flies will drop you,
Iota
By
Iota,
Onto the tracks at Dalston to be rendered into absolute oblivion.
And I will go, a man unshackled, about my business –
Whether it be of importance or not,
It will be with a conscience cleansed.

But for now, vile sham of an emotion that you are,
I do your inglorious bidding.
Zombified and putrid, my actions smell of you.
They reek of you.

You intoxicate what should be left alone
And endured with silence and rapidity.
Yet you elongate these private, personal trails torturously,
In some sensational Cold War.

It goes without saying,
The world would be well rid of you.
Yet godlike, you endure the ages
Just as we endure you.

Perhaps Keats was too afraid to admit it –
You are the original
La Belle Dame Sans Merci.
Pluto’s daughter in persistent disguise.
To be seen presently
‘******* and thinking of death’.
OnlyEggy Dec 2011
Fly, Dragonfly, fly!
Spread your wings and flex your tail
take off to the skies, follow the blowing winds!
Leave behind the Wicked Men of Hollowing Trail
and escape the poisons of their worded sins
Fly, Dragonfly, fly!

Race, Dragonfly, race!
Sweep your wings back against the windy skies
Let your heart propel your spirited sprint faster! Faster!
Escape from the Forest of Unnerving Lies
and the creatures of the Lost Souled *******
Race, Dragonfly, race!

Hunt, Dragonfly, hunt!
Beat your wings to the sounds of the butterflies
Feed your hunger for protecting the meek
with the haunting taste of Honey-Soaked Flies
and the sting of Sugar-Coated Bees
Hunt, Dragonfly, hunt!

Rest, Dragonfly, rest!
Allow the venom to still your beatful wings
Let the swift death claim a Hero's life
Beckon the Raven of Heaven to blissfully sing
to the tune of the Stalking Sparrow's whistling knife
Rest, Dragonfly, rest!
(AIP)
In love with Gwen Stacy
When in stasis


Cannot let go of the old neighborhood charm until?

In love with Mary Jane
                  When the mind takes off*

Now, I become the hero Spiderman yet a problem?

     * *She leaves, no Mary Jane
                        And the symbiote, VENOM


Comes along in angry mind of the hero spurned?

Stuck in webs
anger as Man
         Hero no words


Comes along in angry mind of the hero spurned?

I want to do something widcha'
something makes her mad
I want to do something widcha'
something makes him Mad.


I want to do something widcha'
some thing? *

Maddie Fay Mar 2017
the moon is a lesbian,
which i know because she has
kissed every inch of my body
more often than any lover
i've ever known.

i have watched the way
she kisses the ocean
and guides her gently home,
have seen her face reflected with love
in the ever-changing sparkling surface of the sea,
and i don't know any other word
to describe a love like that.

the day we smoked a joint in the woods
and then walked eight miles in the rain
to gas station coffee,
we passed two other gas stations on the way,
but you were holding my hand and
i didn't want it to stop.
you said
"you're beautiful"
and i said
~~~~
because you were the most remarkable
person i had ever seen,
leaned up against the hood of a stranger's car,
smoking a cigarette like a lesbian james dean.

you'd call yourself
"lesbian" sixteen times before breakfast
until it stopped sounding like venom
and started to sound like a prayer,
because how could i ever look at
love like this and feel anything
but holy?
my new church was the woods
by the river,
and i learned to worship
at the altar of your body.
you took me in your arms and you said,
"baby,
you're beautiful,"
and i told you i loved you
because beautiful had never
meant anything to me
except that i had something
people could take.
i heard "beautiful" from your lips and it sounded
like a blessing.

the moon is a lesbian because
she knows how to love without taking,
i have scarcely loved a man
who has learned how to love without taking,
that is not to say that no man
can love without taking,
but it is a skill that is learned
through a grief
that i have shared with every
queer woman i have ever met.

when you kissed me in the attic,
it was not the first time
i had been kissed,
but it was the first time that a touch
felt like a gift and not a punishment,
and it was the first time i understood
why people write love songs.
i wanted to write you a love song,
but after a lifetime afraid of my own voice,
all i could sing you were hymns.
not because i had made you an idol,
but because your hands on my body
made me feel clean for the first time.

the moon is a lesbian because
the night i stumbled out of
the apartment of the man
who only loved me when
he thought he could keep me,
blood on my lips and nowhere to go,
the moon kissed my fingertips
and she said,
"baby,
what took you so long?
welcome home."
Ivy Rose Apr 2014
I feel as though I am losing you to a snake.

One who's venom has the ability to warp your mind.

I feel as though I am losing your heart to its bite.

A strong overpowering sensation of pure manipulation.

I feared that when I awoke this morning you would no long be mine, but in fact hypnotized by every scale and slither.

And while you are still resting soundly, arms wrapped around me,

She whispered in your ear last night.

(i. r)
Jordan St Angelo Apr 2011
It was just past midnight when he fell asleep
which was impressively late considering how much whiskey he had consumed.
The dream began with her,
because, honestly, a bad dream wouldn't be complete
without her in it.
They sat on a vast lake in a small boat
with the moonlight blessing them
for the first time in a long while.

I believe that the two were happy
but despite this fallacy
he still wasn't aware that he was dreaming.

As they laughed
a spider came crawling into the boat.
He was too starled to wonder how it followed them into the water,
andas it's feet scuttered and his stomach guttered
the girl muttered "**** it, please, **** it."
But when he extended his fingers to do the deed
the spider turned to reveal
a bloodshot eye in the center of it's black back.
It's pupil was an hourglass, and time was running out.

So disturbed now from the specter that his fingers wavered
and the widow-maker pounced, biting first his finger
then his wrist, then his heart.

He fell from the boat.
The spider disappeared into blackness.
After a few minutes of breathless panic
he emerged at the shallow end of the swimming pool
that must have been there all along.

She was on dry land
and in his panic he didn't bother to question
how she made it to safety without him
with such ease
why she didn't bother to help
or why she didn't seem too alarmed
at the fact that he was now dying.

He was now only a few steps away from a large crowd,
I think he said something to her

So here was the task of seeking help
in a faceless mass of people
who also didn't seem the slightest bit concerned
over the fact
that venom was coursing through his veins
and dread was settling deep into his heart.

He searched for someone to drive him
to a hospital or a bed
or even just to watch him die so long as they'd sit and pretend to care
over the fact that he would no longer exist.
He realized that she could be that person,
wondered why he hadn't thought of her in the first place.
He turned around to find her but she was gone.

Maybe she was offended that he hadn't thought of her sooner
in his time of dying, maybe she, too, didn't see much seriousness
in his now worsening condition.

His steps grew heavier,
the eyes were losing focus.

Searching the faces looking for her,
she was either gone
or had melted into to the solidarity that seemed to loathe him so much.
They were all faceless, hostile,
avoiding him like the plague
or grabbing at him like a villain.
One man punched his teeth so forcefully
that his jaw no longer opened,
(but in all reality he was probably just
grinding his teeth in his sleep,
but the venom was sinking deeper
and he could not wake up.)

He ran, no one would help him so he ran.
There was his car,
there were his keys.
There were his shaking hands
and his fading vision
and apparently someone else was in the passenger seat
telling him that he was too ****** up to drive
someone who failed to see the distinction between alcohol
and venom but even still he drove because this person was no friend
not even a person
he never saw his face while his heart pounded
and the words slurred together
and she was not there but now was no time to think of her
and the hourglass was running out and he knew it
embarrassing tears dripped as the engine roared and his eyes darkened
the landscape all blended together i don't thinkhis mind could
dream things up quickly enough as he sped by
which might eexplain why he suddenly was standing in the desert
the car was gone the faces were gone
and he thhought "might as well have a last cigarette before i ******* die"

his hands didn't work and he couldn't grab the lighter
even if he could his mouth was still clamped shut
couldn't yell for help even if people would care
the crowd was back they were all yelling something
but it was no matter now light was leaving and no one seemed too concerned
she was gone and i'm not sure she ever was

thus he faded away without anyone to look him in the eye
and agree with him that something terrible was happening to him

The world grew black.
The stars went dim.
His heart hurt.
Their laughter faded
and he died alone.

And so I awoke to live my day
with this dream deep in my mind.
Alive to live another day,
with venom in my veins
and darkness in my heart
that no one seems to notice
or care about.
I found myself fracturing beneath his fists,
Beauty beaten in hues of blue, purple and black,
Like clouded midnight skies, full of rain.
My eyes becoming pools of stars,
Glistening with secrets of pain,
Shining dully into the darkness of our nights.
Saturated with his snide, stingy, cruel colors,
I soaked in his venom,
Becoming canvas for the art of abuse.
And wasn't it beautiful?

These tears in skin hindered no smile,
Bruises like paint, enhancing face,
Pupils shining like diamonds,
Rough and worn, but precious.
Aching bones breaking to rebuild themselves,
Tongue red with biting back curses,
Rosy lips curved and sealed against apologies,
Flesh as hard and gray as stone,
Sharpened against wicked whims and foul words,
Aren't I beautiful -

In all my rainbow tones?
Brandi R Lowry Jul 2015
Life is a test
A series of choices

Your time here is measured
By the venom in your voices

Give unto others without reservation

Help your neighbor
With no hesitation

Feed the hungry

Remove discrimination

Offer a hand

Become an inspiration

Open your mind
Start a revolution
Inspire a change
To create the solution

With our eyes cast downward
We pretend not to see
The misery and demise  
In the wake of our greed

If someone is hungry...
Cold or unloved
Offer your heart
Give them a hug

What you share
Will return tenfold
So offer a hand
Help carry the load

Offer a smile
Share your bliss
Inspire others
Change what is

Share your joy
Inspire others to love
Together
We can change the world.

Namaste
ShareInspireChange
Martin Narrod Oct 2015
Under the legs of giraffes falling in love by being licked to buy a deer deer licking giraffes Gareth Pugh transforming signs pigs that can't **** but **** bricks in the tea cups personal Hispanic designers transforming into anorexic girls tornadoes in Pennees that buildings can't stop where pro-skateboarders take millions of dollars of drugs that are crystals and mugs and improve haircuts to make mugshots better who go to bathroom the stress says this transvestites in British airways first class airplane ride bathrooms **** **** ******* ******* **** in and list ***** used who's spending money and and aunt uncle and uncle gay and lesbian **** show putting faces in the toilets and wedding the water stopping at rest stops work carnival junkies pay tolls and gas station attendants charge super fees going to grocery stores to buy cream soda likes Sprite flavored train send peanut butter cup chocolate **** sores and send aunts uncles and uncles undulates and pigs passing by signs changing words miss read words changing over and over again passing through Stardome popularity celebrity. Rachel Lynch by skinny victory over and over groups of people lost in bathrooms starting outs in the story telling each other being wet by Harry Potter. In the beginning their hair was wet eyeballs were sore they took drugs text transform them into night sweats and their minds ate breakfast as they arrived at the circus storytelling they wore black costumes and shrunk like Alice in Wonderland having to **** and **** and eat but they were silent until the drugs came back into their systems and then they remembered each other. My father's brother Jim's son was lost abandoned me inside a marketplace in Colorado roadrunner was treated having a disease rather than being a drunk and given medication while lost in the end of the world's apocalypse. Symphony after symphony lost and returned and lost an overturned enveloped in the mall or people in different sections provided different offerings like curiosity giving oral *** or rubbing ankles or kissing on heads or **** ******* each other to death. Moving through security checkpoints falsifying drugs by providing sticky chewing gum pulling it from their mouths while Hispanics were extradited to other South and Central American countries. Oh my God insanity bliss favoritism chocolate peanut butter cup Carnival riding red neck necking car crash crashing insanity. Goblins introduces lighting fuses of other uses oxymoronic hyperbole of onomatopoeia and sounds raking the ears, breaking Pap smears in the vaginas of men with penises of early surgeries. Michael Gottlieb as a hog, tigers and dynosaurs, Jim Morrison poisoned, Transformers rising to the Chicago skyline TIE interceptors of cellular structures musing youths. Hallucinations of blasphemous miniature creatures giving faith to words transforming to the name of this movement this movie: The Shīt Shūw.
Jami Denton Feb 2021
May the willows grow through your dog cages.
May the mice die and rot where they lay.
Half-moons of black dirt once filled up my fingers.
Prayed more than once for owls to carry you away.
No longer my ritual to clear sludge from the spillway
as your orchards grow barren
weeds cover your everything,
And mushrooms lay seeds
in your brain.
Ariel Baptista Jan 2017
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Say she is vapour
Venom, velvet and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
Clutch the moments, clutch the moonbeams
Clutch the stretched out skies of cloud and mustard gas sunset
Sing she is a child of trauma
Supressed in the name of breathing
Violence in the name of skin
And she is venom, velvet and vermouth
She was born to pink salt lakes in the low country
With ruby pomegranate eyes
And hair of hazelnut rapture
Girl with the soul of a thousand pilgrim journeys
Girl with the soul of a blackberry bush
Girl with the soul of olive trees and sheep meat and oven bread in the fire country
Human smiles
And other dark things of value
She lies like velvet
She lies in the name of supressing traumas
In the name of breathing
She bleeds like a billion stars bleed vapour
She is venom and vermouth
With hair of hazelnut rapture
She is the sum of a thousand pilgrim journeys
The prayer of holy rivers in the canyon country
The smoke of incense burned by sages
The scars of bodies burned by crusaders in mustard gas chambers
Goddess of Nuclear energies
Red-eyed like ruby pomegranates
Like the dewy cauldron of morning
When tenuous steps lead bodies down the path of executionary revolution
To boarders, frontiers, walls of white-skin scar tissue
Sing songs of Babylon in the free country
Clutch the moments
Clutch your breaths and hold them in broken palms
Clutch the tides and teach them
Breach your rib-cage, unstitch and return the borrowed bones
Melt the metaphoric thrones
Breathe backwards in the name of unsupressing traumas
In the name of truth
Stretch me out and count me like clouds
Girl of angel-breath ambition
Soul of blackberry bush and smile of splintered terracotta tile
Sing your songs
Say she is vapour
Looking for notes, criticism, anything really! Thanks **
Sean Flaherty Apr 2014
You weren’t worth the
Hundred dollars it cost to
Keep you in my car. 
Princess got poached by the
League of Losers with Pedestrian Ideals.

I’d spit venom in your direction, if 
Poison meant anything to you. But
Akin to most things, so sub-human,
You miss the world moving around your
Ever pulsating veins, and repel these
Toxins with a slip of the tongue.

Around you I could line
Bodies of those you’d loved and left.
Each clasping hands with one another,
Privy to a specific type of pain, only you can
Deal out. And

In the center of the circle you’d
Stare, stunned by your state of
Affairs, and flings. Collectively concerned
For the safety of your
Rotting consciousness.

One by one, I could set these men
On fire, and hand you a place 
Where your head could be danced off.
Drunken and diving heart-first into
The burning lake of a 
Surfable crowd. Since that’s
All we are, serfs.

I hope the fire gets too close to your
Gorgeous face. I hope the
Love you receive is no more likable
Than a few more licks from the flames.
The scars couldn’t sideline you.
No one can stop ****.
I was mad. I'm not anymore. But I was so mad. And the result justified the reasoning.
martin May 2013
adoration we adore
criticism is deplored
reptilean eyes show no remorse
as silken smooth we subtley slither
closer now, invite a strike
or keep your distance
and your life

my teeth are hollow
so is my pen
venom flows
through both of them
Those far-away days are so hazy
When everyone was lazy
The maidens were fair
With garlanded hair
And all the cows were called Daisy
Julian Apr 2020
Floating above the rifts of apperception I glaze over the gaudy faucets of imagined vector thrusts in hibernation by the lucubration of space-time materialized crystal in the somber beats of fetched farrago of choice slices in delicate hums of hemmed balance rantipole only in ethereal importance but otherwise supersolid above the sprauncy vagrancy of dilettantism. We shout a clarion virtuosity so that the conclamation of neovitalism conjures upon a spell of lapse and regress a motive for further crystallization of epidemiology into harmony with syndicated admonition sleek in design and parceled into renown by feats of completion rather than slugabed gregarious fountains of wasted ingenuity bleeding from the vacuum of an empty hearth in a hospitable dwelling otherwise cleared of imperfection. Right now, I levitate with transcendence with an approximated eidetic memory that is the surgical vibrancy of renewal rather than the chameleons of hidden talents buried by the walls of Jericho sounding tocsins of alarm that the anointed favor of choice destruction is only an encircled rapture of rhapsodies of confluence found in axiomatic truths ribbed with the futtocks of seaworthy but cauponate recidivism into the donnybrooks of apocryphal revelation preceding the whimsical fall of cascading permanence just as gravity so ordained it. We breathe the life of the ethereal numinous spirit of isangelous repute because we navigate the exquisite cobweb of reconciliation to surpass all understanding in peace what would be a miscegenated carcass of war otherwise apart from the incidental apartheid of the drones of causality ignoring the antecedent reality too much to register fathomed streaks of preventive endeavor because of the scars of a scrappy schlep of the rampicks of ecbolic servitude to moth-eaten star-crossed lovers of the mean menagerie of gutless succor renowned only in tepid rejections of harbingers bequeathed in succession but ignored because of the procession of “Billie Jean” politics.

   The citadel aflame with controversy buttresses carnality by witless contaminants of hidebound scaldabancos of ineffable destitution so craven in eisoptrophobia for their hypostasized indolent fatuousness of capitulation that they are but a minor punctuation in the largesse of centuries to favor audacity in candor over the prevarications of catastrophe to dented human pride against humane dictates of theodicy in fatalism that predestination experimented with its own vaulted verve to find permanent solutions engraved in the agrapha of time to solidify the redintegrated truth of God’s divine stewardship above the quisquilous deism of former regnant centuries of blench and blandishment. We revolt at the specter of rot only when the effluvia of disgust elevates the visceral reality above the utilitarianism of recycled prim nuisances of noisome lineage that yet balk because they are bereft of attention but not a vacant talent and therefore should the subsidies of man surpass the ignorance of appearances he will shrug of the demur of the scrimshank and sharpen his scrivello in the service of redemption found through cultivated prowess of gardens beneath where rivers flow above a cubic centurion of embattled visages of the heavens becoming the rampart for the vestigial clarity of Secret Masters to foresee the bypass that heals decadence and rebukes the formalism of puritan endeavor to sweat with exhaustive patience over the gossamer intertesselations of a ripe reality rather than a groveled fragmentary world shattered too much by exigent metanoia to mount the crenellated catchpole of vigilant enmity towards the stew of listlessness found in epigone and farce more than in organic fortunes. We flip the upheaval of society to squander our proportionate degrees of wealth on the necessity created by dire quandary which enamors by interrogations of pulchritude the verisimilitude of participle ivory dalliance of etched canvasses of simultagnosia for the librations of the liberated rings of betrothed liberation despite profound lurches of the mistetches of ignorance presiding dismally over the hulked disdain of glamborge rather than resselenque.

     The winter is a poor porcine glut of ciconine swelters because the prickly obtuse recoil of the delopes of caution find their permeable balance with a sort of photographic photosynthesis that braves the dearth of reprieve for the reprisal of nostalgic deeds found in the docimasy of riveted reflections because the preordination of God is the superlative champion of the witeless grandeval protectorate of infinite concepts guarded from the parvanimity even of the most strident minds squabbling over the braseros and battues of history as though those funereal stains of lachrymose regret outweigh the traditions of vaunted human progress because they are finicky about importunate pleas of subsidiary injustice rather than fulminations of the modern rebuttal to the disclaimers of an uneven history that shepherds the doubts of nihilism into ripe fruition at the expense of very expensive moral rot for the codlings of urbacity and mendaciloquence used to foment that tribalism of totemic justice. We see in Penuel the wrestling match of specters and heroic giants documented on the ageless pages and we notice the ironic twinges of struggle that kneaded the propriety of gentilian privilege that ultimately fostered an insurrection against chosen bravado among those that sear with zeal beyond the yordim afflictions of yobbery because the Jewish heart is stronger than any calamity even if it departs from the reverence of the colporteurs of the integrated syncretism of the attempted monolith that beseeches polyphiloprogenitive growth in mindset rather than in testy abeyance of forbearance because of known scrutinies into the tropology of wilted facts remanded by curious historicity that crumples without disdain when we memorialize the erasure of scepsis by modern standards of thaumaturgy.

    The minauderies of growth are a repositioned tacit allegiance to the untold fanfare and hearsay immunized against the broach of facetious levity to buoy discordant hearts above fumatoriums of relentless ignorance because coherent masterwork can be cobbled without such lapidary toil and toll on sincere affectations of wizened brevity. The seismic precautions for the forefathers of incidental convergences between expectancy and crystallized history are an ironic intortion of priorities because the heralds and tribunes matched the peerless foresight with the gerrymandered figments of apartheid between the imaginary and the real so that the delicate synchrony of events could unfurl a riveting carapace from the shells of protection even in amiable squalor for its impenitent attrition on the volleys of sensible rumor becoming fashioned in covert bedazzled errors in judgment leading to the triumph of the eventual civilization over the futtocks of the burial of the former trekleador of zenkidu belonging to provincial cadasters found so tucked in the hedges that discernment of frikmag would be an indelible scourge on the biognosy of the diagnosed endeavors that elapsed into remediated circumstances that brave the depths of deontological violation for the breadth of apportioned loaves and two swanky fish earning a place among the miracles of transcendent liberation from articles of decree imperious by sardonic disdain becoming nullified by the histrionics of a delicately staged orchestra that cements human achievement.

       We relish the frescades of a ruffled autumnal reminder of flourish above pothers of the screed of admonition swamped by nostalgic backtracks in the séance with ultimatum of design and the impregnated and carnal lusts of a world pitched in darkness with guarded lambent lights fomenting a perjury against tact for the deliverance of freedom in tacit agreement with owleries that every bonanza be tithed in their favor regardless of hibernation of spoilsports or their subsidiary remarks on indelible quills of invented manufactured realities we crave with desperation rather than cower from in requited nescience urging us to depart from affairs and stagnate the loyalty of fealty above the limber of utility mobilized above levities for solemn remarks and rejoinders. Promulgated above the robotic rubble of staffage haywire in wiredrawn contemplative resonance of tremulous subterfuge vestigial but immediate to the yardsticks of reprehensible malarkey, is the barnstorm for erratic dimples sauntered by the saunas of shelter above the chaos of ruined ginnels for the gimcracks of auxiliary duty to service, is the glorification of the sultry intimations of legions of remonstrance in guarded decorum about sunken atrocities lapsed in memorial to the incumbent brunt of sockdolagers of justice returning revenants from the bridewell of historical internment. The symphily of orchestras to cineaste symposiasts of surquedry in impudence beyond the brays of betrayal is the aborning mythos of regimented perceptions of a world that when magnified by minutiae appears starkly contrast to the gapped gubbertushed reality of the average patron of the arts to such an extreme gulf of receptive understanding that the qualia are dovetailed only in the swink of careful kisswonks to certify certitude itself when all the fragments coalesce into subjoined harmony to the substructures of inherent conscientiousness. The miracles at work that are vesicles and vessels for the swage of imprint above the loyalty of the imprinted tribunes of the fluminous is how hidden protrusions can emerge so victorious over popularized glazes on the pastures of a farmed culture itching for timmynoggies of innovation but only finding the etched remarks of pristine imagos of heroism dwindling in motivation to surpass the imaginative leaps accustomed to a newfangled laziness that bedazzles the guzzle of crowds but not the discrimination of the crowded morass of incompletion found in mosaics missing enigmatic philters of intoxicated love for the profound. So to be intermediary as a custodian for artistry we must cozen the wheedled imaginations not of the relic but the archaeologist that discovered the embedded prisms of attentive scrutiny for glinting sunshine inherent in troves of surpassed excellence beyond parochial sympatric blandishment of donnism rather than a resselenque that floats above demeanor to usher the cosseted age of treasure above the glib brocards and florews of past success.

      Immanent to the provisions of God as decreed from a syncretic reconnaissance of the pitiable gulfs that separate boundless divine love from the clavigerous potential for scrappy sympatric affiliation to **** through the barnstorms of internal comestions of conflated priorities we are ourselves prismatic in the indulgence of a tasty life sprinkled with zest rather than tempered with the vengeance of retorted animosity that we knead the pottery of ironclad resistance to a metallic conduit of pruned fulminations of unguided intuition so that the natural accord supersedes the goad of materialism for the sustenance of antiquity beyond its heyday for vital gains against the tauricide of panic and frenzy. The linchpin of all realistic attempts at the sympatric symphily of civilization is a guided remorse through the torment of affliction that sizzles without anteric barbs as it measures through engrenage how to pilot the vehicles of prosperity through the minefields of contingency that invisibly bequeath new hurdles and inestimable obstacles that collude surreptitiously to fulminate measured controversy against the backbites of restrained equipoise created by polities of the macadamized fabric of a welded smithy of a universe that with ubiquity proclaims above the senseless the harvest of conjugal repartee in sensible pride against militant bastions of incidental prejudice for a careen against the flyndresques of danger and the flyndrigs of glaikery alike for a humane spurt of enlightenment to tower peerlessly in supervision of entelechy created by esemplastic unity in apolaustic purpose. We cannot be puritans engaged in a pilgrimage to a palimpsest of priggishness because the daring elements of adventurism are necessary ingredients to catalyze the supply-chain of the innate gluttony of ego-seeking endless balance with a natural sustained biognosy that prizes biocentric harmony above bibliognost scepsis so that the enthused can flock with liberty divorced from libertinism. The ultimatum is a war between hedonism wed with donnism against eumoirety and self-restraint and this battle will be waged on the indolence of a future of cordslave tethers to interrogation of privy conceptualism hamshackled by the gradgrinds into the neat nexility of precise conformity that blacklists the samizdat because the genizah profoundly twists the already jumbled jengadangle and provides a junediggle of procession and ceremony rather than pomp without substantial grit embedded in the showmanship of a reality in need of a fourth-wall.

        It is ironic how we bewrayed our stewardship of the planet as a plenipotentiary sentience waged against the vesicles of instinct but more fundamental to this tattered but pregnant psalm is that the stronghold of our future is the tenacity of filial duty to enthrone the household with husbandry and restraint as an emolument to divine justice that sparkles opalescent in its own redacted notions of gravity imperfect in the taradiddles of science but refined by the eclat of the combustible syncopation of a reiterative trope of realism combined with surrealist caprice to henpeck affectionate violation above inviolable screeds of blood sport rather than conjugal affections afforded to the brood and the feast of the flocks that rein supreme over all things but exert inclement justice over the cattle and chattel of civilization itself. The minkumpf against the sacrilege of a prioritized kosher is to abhor the suffering rather than embrace the penitence of perceived but specious sacrifice which is an ornery thorn on the stained conscience of the yobbery of both the apikoros and the obedient because to attenuate all suffering even of instinctual beings we anneal our hearts to a glorified compassion that supersedes the relegated relics of pushful genuflection by succedaneum of sacrifice waged against the docile whangams of otiose theodicy. The filibusters against the regnant complexity of regalia that is a sprauncy poivrade with terpsichorean flairs to transmute the intimations of hibernated perfidy into finicky transmissions for the riometers that accord orbific merit in a lackluster time enchant the rollicking audience of this auditorium of the prevenance of the conquered universe bracing for the camorra of the insipid entreaty of defalcated casuistry—the prominent exchequer in hoodwinked political agitprop that forges ironclad allegiances to flimsy facades of the verisimilitude of dignity with recalcitrant but incondite bruits of venom militant against secular apostasy—that the fitful arrivistes that swim in dire dearth will be welcomed into the reconciliation of all time with a tempered lurid glint of revelation bounded by sunken albatross of hype unbounded with a peace insurmountable in prestige rewarded only with the highest reservations.


    On 3-1-2020 when I penned my philosophy—even at a slowpoke margin of crafty precision above rapid empirical faucets of folly—I was entirely selfsame with the autotelic engravings of the smoldering aboriginal talents within that many can swing through by tenacity for enormous plaudit but a flagrant majority will apprehend with flippant scollardical tenets of rebuke and remain honest in their appraisal only in meek resignation of parvanimity.
Consider the postulates of rarefaction whittled into a vehement zeal against the prostitution of our species to the anteric cycles of residual molds of dingy spectacle mired by the tyrannical towers of supercilious squirms of revamped novelty rather than enhanced by the freebooters of dirigisme that borrow from time the behest of philandered flairs divorced from the cadges of secular instinct and enthroned by the qualms of engineered virtuosity that is stark, barren but peerless in its outstretched clamor for luxuriant sprees against the silentium of grandeval asylum incurred by the flippant filigrees of recalcitrant modernism endangered by the irredentism of the future upon the whimsy of the present-minded momentary glare of rapture.  This impending architecture of nimble but subservient endeavor is a pinprick rejoinder against the wernaggles of prepossessed fountains of configured animosity against the stapled heed of a modality of trayned invictive invectives against the plodding course of fustilugianation that swerves in apathy of autopilot junediggle to emanate the surrender of epigone to the raktendure of the synaesthesis of the attuned perception of all superimposed minutiae delegated by calculated design into a synclastic focus on veiled caprice that is vaulted above the choppy and sketchy verdure of remiss perception to stellar continuities rather than mundane knickpoints of stodged blurs that magnify syncretic qualia into baseline congruity rather than staid torpefied resignation of the visage of thunder without the pangs of the widely vituperated lightning that bequeaths all certain notions but flouts the tortious saboteurs of the prim trucage of brittle fundamentalism.

     As the flawed paragon of a picaresque youth punctuated by vibrant plumage of self-wrought tropophilous usucaption of remote groomed frontiers of desolate luxury but buoyant morale into the ballasts of a nimble usufruct that hikkles yet still against still-framed thilloire--fatuous in endearment only to the polity of the waterdrip of craven but gravid disingenuous flickers of lambent cloaks of perfidy—that earned its birthright by meditative fruition rather than prodigal tallespin of indolent frapplanks of a vicarious personage rather than an autotelic haecceity showcases the folly of heterodyne inclinations meeting an impasse of accidental dislodgement. The interregnum between the spurts and sprees of luxuriance is a staid pause between continuities of afforded parlance becoming stapled demographic solidarity affixed to a strident gallop of effortful pushes against the tenacity of the slumberous wicked hibernation of vetust magpiety without hieratical internment because youthful industry beats hackneyed bludgeons of wiseacres of a stilted manufacture of steamy nostalgia for lickerish moments that dignify but undermine moral virtues but splash anointed and sometimes disjointed favor upon the congeners to a rabid escapade of a heedless love frowning on the girdles of the prim balderdash of heralded jolts dim on levity and puffed with elusive contextualized control of libidinous serrated defilement because the crotaline **** outmantles the sweedled limber of exploitable folly. The cosseted reality of wheedled gourmands of continuous perception rather than the Gaussian blur of the protean invention of stitches in time that obscure rather than magnify the supernal levity inherent to most artistry is a linchpin of lenient gravitas that levies the lavaderos of ripe perception into annealment.
Excuse the bravado of the gait of winnowed forks in a bronteum for heralds of megaloscopy fastened to the macroscian reality of indelible filigrees of countermanded controversy becoming its best behest in the sempiternal flowering of burgeoned demonstration rather than illustrious overhang of drab slabs of manufacture rather than organism that should be interposed between the constellated concepts of both apperception and the aggrieved counselors to obtuse obsessions that are an improper tutelary for a designated reprisal of the once profane now immediately gratified by ramshackle tenets of a guarded sublimation of the tenets of post-modernism into a sustained force of the internalized tabernacle of haecceity shepherded into exuberance by the manumission of spirit from the ******* of purblind scalds of defamation that incurs the penalty of flippant privation. The refuge the Lord provides is not contingent upon the vagaries of deliberation nor the calculus of oversight but the remontant amaranthine glower of a listed deed becoming an eternal reminder that a dismantled and disjointed world fathoming only remorse rather than the trudge of gentility against the headwinds of brunt asperity will always flout the successor rather than atone for the failure of the imponent condition that constellates around rudimentary drivel grubbing the momentary out of avarice for allotted merchandise rather than glommed magnets to amoeba sentiments for the kisswonk of ulterior motive beyond dungeons of desperation that lurk ghoulishly with spectral frights at the disfigurement of morale created by errors askew rather than a contagion of righteous valor.

   Ask the heedful servant if the captaincy of reneged commitment owes homage to dutiful instruction or whether it is a balking corpse of necrosis accorded to the omphalism of brutish carnal repose in times of sedentary silt siphoned in spelunked rijuice for preordination is a predominant specter for a world scared scurrilous and skittish in a diatribe against the very notion of tribal screeds embedded in the sedimentary heft of traditionalism above the pother of vacillation commended to the apikoros but counterfeit fiat system of a ruddy governance without a supreme magistrate. Now lets venture into the territory of visagists as we envision the swanky subversion of impoverished and nebbich visions of oligochrome that fixates on belabored but dead notions of rigid propriety and levitate above those concerns with a querulous transcendence that never wernaggles about the profaned irrelevance of burlesque tropes of sidereal friction but instead memorializes the thermolysis of permeable endeavor above staid countenances of imposture that lurk in the shadowy penumbra of the connivance of persona above the archetype of the tutelary guardian spirit that through windlass and sometimes deliberation affixes nobility to even the pedestrian in order to assize its proper proportions to granular ironies expounded into megalography transformative by the very rivets of its supersensible existence and cohabitation with histrinkage among human taboos.

   The handiwork of a permeable race prone to exacerbated proclamations of prerogatives bulldozed by the rapid percolation of insoluble quandaries to the gripes of the feast of foofaraw sometimes shelters our otherwise regnant concern about the plenipotentiary God that observes all latent affairs without the paramours that conflate vivid carnality with appeased luxury and superimposes a crafty system of seismic shifts in rantipole dances with numinous flux rather than dissipated militant suppression of the fracklings of dissolute pollution which swirk in their dastardly desperado endeavors to corral the entire monoliths that guard each province into a winnowed rumble of rubble by tarnish of Tyre rather than by the upstart rejoinders of Canaan. Every creature which has the capacity to perceive language is afforded benedictions by the overhailing force of the hypaethral heights of superlative ingenuity founded in the bolted speculation of the endearment of all to tropological seesaws embattled against the hearsay of nyejays that contaminates the telmatology of the ecosystem of revivalism rather than buries the leaden debts of the disjointed revenants of past prominence into recycled irrelevance for posterity rather than for anything but a machination of a clockwork apple rigged for a rotten worm to swindle the sweet delicate tempests of unforeseen disaster to perjuries against financial solidarity.

The spinsters of sardonic drollery underscore the imminence of an incondite cutthroat collapse blackguarded by the hucksters of incontinence grubbing every fetched noisome notion and congealing a bonnyclabber of desiccated mildew that proves vestigial when the victors of time earn their joyous serenade to the pinnacle of the totem of jaundice slits in wavy endeavors for the participles of sejungible syntax of the ephorized furor to outlast the draksteng of droned dereliction manned by half-baked spies of ulterior recitals for imprinted vicissitude in supremacy in synquest for frizzlounges rather than the pedestrian circulatory system of careworn polity. We vaporize the petty hatred of sympatric regelation that neuters the virulence of motivated impediments to the draconian surge of asperity that sinks temporal haplessness as a regaled blasphemy that crowns only the ringed betrothal to spumid serrated halts in slick superstition that is a buggery to the idea of insectivores devouring the erratic chantage of germane germs that pauperize rather than even blind the deafened to be a crutch to vehicular homicide. Melismatic sennet is a dirigible of immense herculean sinew without the traces of vestibulary retches of kisswonked grisly tepid intimidations of eccedentesiasts by the radioglare of wizened corrugations in thanatism that exhort the avatars of narquiddity over the natural departure of revenant souls back to their temporary hostility to crass lifeless decarnate immediacy that slinks with foibles magnified by vertiginous heights of scollardical reputes rigged by the rijuice of the plackiques of meaningless spoils for swashbuckler bonanza borrowed from serrated vengeance exacted in prominence to provide false avenues of extenuation to malefaction that is confidant to the panopticon of exemplary dimples meager in the largesse of the composite realism of a sizable imprint on megalography that outlasts impertinent excuses for dangerous trout swimming against the mobilized selachostomous frizz of sharks gathering to avenge disclosure with insolence and gravid atrocity of incisive surgical evisceration of attempted depositions that falter by innumerable facets of countenance that belie ultimate realism and the perdurable construction of a sturdy hive of bibliognost revelry.

     Even with the blaring sennet of majesty inundating my piecemeal perception with the marstions of flarium that is an efficacy in a flaccid world of otiose pretenses limpid only in folly but contraplex in ironic skewbald skerries of grubbed destination that is the terminus of karezza despite the maledictions of vehement guarded betrayals that conjure up lurid noisome virility against the gamines and gallywows that populate interstellar fictions of virtu rather than mundane pragmatica that astound with the resselenque of contaminated skeumorphs of latent fracture belonging to a skeletonized ossified reification of farce above historicity in seemly seamless countenance with overwrought princely stature deserving integrity to ripples through sparkling opalescence. The vapid insularity of the self-contained mythos of appeased groundlings is based on the rhizic and rhizogenic fracklings destitute in predicative flares to swelter above stratospheres of the illimitable into the dwelling of the highest serenity inherent to the pacification of truth to neglect its egregious errors of mistetches of a ripened pachyderm of bravery in times of austerity and now a reclaimed notion of sempiternal charades swimming above the punitive draksteng of dranger that is enlarged by acclimated attempts at foiled raltention hikkling against its own superior forces of galvanized preterition to elide over screwball insanity of derangement in this virtual paradise of inhabited souls belonging to former times congregating on the pasture of the evanescence of now for all eternity having the optative condition of incarnation above the ferules of the stagnant brevity of oversight in heavenly realms by postulate but not confirmed by regal logic.

     The troponder of the flickered lambent niceties of polity is a countenance that piggybacks on simpered jostles of negligent engrenage to appease sworn enmities among beatific havens for certitude swarmed by the fisticuffs of darbied bridewells of desiccated drainage traversing the distant disdain for the gravel of cemented slits of stilted pragmatica that is a gavel of atrocious estoppel mediated by heroic heresiarchs against pitiable betrayal for forceful remedies in acclimated servitude to the groans and groaks of a life of remorse and dearth rather than the glut of luxuriance in forbearance to its own intorted mirrored ironies that etch infinity with every scrawled rejoinder to austere ploys of checkered rumbles of threat and exigency posed by the clairvoyant hypocrites who benefit greatly by the design of the omphalism above the frays and brays of corporate dogmatism slowly outmoded by vibrant plumages of heteronormative originality beyond petty chantage. A hesitation overcomes the bluster of bravado as the restive earnest concerns of tribulation beset the minauderies of divine affection to reaffirm the teachings of the Gospel so that future generations genuflect beneath the altar of the ultimate stroke of sociogenesis and the blood ransom of suffering that promoted the human latitude and liberty against incarcerated throngs of virtue over caesaraproprism accorded to genuflection beneath denarii rather than absolution by tether to the eternal vine of sensation of the supersensible entelechy of all valiant insurrections against defective polities and renewed policies.

     We thus seek a transdimensional bridge between the morphean virtu of rudimentary alchemy of propitiation divulged by leverage and the teeming rambunctiousness of fiduciary tribes to the ultimate duty of man to consummate the future of eternity even in slowpoke mannerisms that sidle through rigors of entelechy and assize the masterwork of tutelage above the circumforaneous entrenchment of glut above the mastery of the subtle subaudition that beleaguers an adept conflagration of harnessed human ignorance staid in the incarceration of exotic virtues of freewheeling sapience never vulnerary to hospitable concerns that entrenches the verisimilitude of a refracted justice to reign over the stultification of a primitivism inherent to man and not man alone.
Used some neologisms
Xan Abyss Sep 2014
I'm Archie Andrews with satanic tattoos
The Lucifer beneath your cute suburb
I'm the devil who hides inside the back of your mind
And you hate me but you love the way I hurt,
Don't you baby?

My venom is still in your veins
Withdrawal is driving you insane
There's only one cure for the pain
And you'll never be getting that again

I am your EVIL
EX
BOYFRIEND
And though I tried to make amends
Your bitterness will never end
So I guess this is
Good Riddance

I know you miss me but you're still with him now
You hate me - but you keep on calling me, somehow...
When you get drunk, it's all "I need you, baby!"
But once you sober up I know **** well you'll ******* hate me
All over again....

My venom is still in your veins
Withdrawal is driving you insane
There's only one cure for the pain
And you're never getting that again!

I am your EVIL
EX
BOYFRIEND
And though I tried to make amends
Your bitterness will never end
So farewell
and Good Riddance

I'm the EVIL EX BOYFRIEND
All over again....
Madeline Harper Sep 2018
My blood is a toxin
Toxic like wine
The ink from this pen
Is duly mine

Your name is a drug
My drug and my wine
My body was your temple
Now become a shrine

The harlotry is my venom
The venom is my wine
And for all that I may account
I know I've walked the line

The whisky is my poison
The poison is my wine
And I find it warmer here
Beneath the dying brine

Now my thoughts lay bundled with twine
And here I am, fresh out of wine
If there's poison in the wine, then hunny I'm drunk
Bowedbranches Mar 2018
Mom
Trying to find solace in the suburbs
when everything seemed superb
like that cookie-cutter,
picket fence,
faux fur mentality
they instill at the start

Just an infant with scars
He reached for her baby bump,
Then slammed it hard
onto the stairwell
She fell, wept, and held
That lil princess
and prayed she'd never have the same hell

All grown up. Alive and well
shes got different demons
different intricate cells
It's been said
she is special      she is awake
But, in many ways
She is the same

As that ANGEL who carried her 23 years ago
That's debt I'll always owe
A gift I'll never own
Carefully Constructed
and Creatively Sewn
shoved a soul into that shell
That'll one day guide her back home


Shes got her mamas tough, yet gentle heart
her smile, brevity and love for art..
she can write her *** off
like her
the wrote and the writ

Yet she's plagued by guilt
every ******* minute
GUILT for the life that she'd been given
GUILT  for each exhale emitted
She prays that God will have the sense
to go back in time and hit OMIT
(on all chapters even close to the word 'human'
there's GUILT for feeling guilty even more for despising your own )
"I must've slipped through the gate, admit it!
Or recruit another for your mission
regretfully, I must solicit
that I'm not fit for this position


I'm no hero
I'm the villain
If ya look close you'll see
I spit venom"
Mama walks in
smiles and says
"WE.
ARE.
WOMEN!"
"Betta recognize and
quit your *******'
as of today, you are living..
You are loved
You are safe
You are ******* winning

WARRIOR,
CREATOR,
QUEEN,
GODDESS,
INCARNATE..
We are strength & We are the faith
never to be broken
but we still stay brave


The Legend wont start
or end with you
Its a fight stretched out
through  time
You will understand soon
No matter how much you ask
"WHY"
It wont stop circumstance
wont stop lies
wont stop suffering
and will NEVER compromise

Your in the way of the wave, child
This.....  the secret to life
When in the way of the wave...
its only a matter of time
S0 if youre searching for solace
Will you promise
To memorize this line
Written for and dedicated to my mother.. we've always been at odds. This entire scenario I wrote is hypothetical, but for some reason it comforts me to make up pep talks from her and this is my favorite one Ive come up with so far. So wherever you are mom...thank you for everything..this one is just for you.
Tanner C Apr 2015
The illusions you have cast

Are nothing more than false images

Memories fabricated from the Book of Lies

Painted Pictures You believed to have Created

With each word, syllable, and sentence, you spew

You are just another Viper spreading your Venom
The Moon and Sun shared Ecliptical Longitudes the night They murdered The child.

Beneath a stelliferous empyrean,
Like Sojourners among the quiescent Twilight, Mother and child, Ventured to meet the woman’s husband, the father of the child.

She, no more than five and ten years Old,
The child, a girl, of only months,
Lay swaddled across the Woman’s
*****, tucked inside a papoose.
A rustic device carefully woven
From wool and hide, in it contained a
Priceless world.

She cooed and clucked in the frigid
Night air.
The sound penetrated the
Spectral calm and was matched only
By the maternal soothing of a muted hum.
Together, they represented the
Heathen form of the wilderness,
The Tempi Madonna among the
Silver and shadow moonbeams that
Glimmered like the dust of diamonds
Across the river’s obsidian sheen.  

Ahead, where the river narrows,
The silence stirred and was broken.
Hushed voices rose from the outer
Dark.
The woman strained to listen.

(British Soldiers, she thought)

Foreign words...

        (Drunken and ravenous)

                         ...slithered from their mouths like Venom. Fear bloomed in the woman’s Chest.
Her heartbeat quickened.

        (Touched by the chill of terror)

Her eyes darted madly about the
Darkness.

         (Alone no longer)

Their  shadows manifested like
Smoke along the tree line.
Their
Features blurred in the darkness.
Their gestures muted.
Like birds of
Prey, they set motionless upon their
Perch along the stony shore.

I say, a man said. Indian children are natural born swimmers,
Capable at birth of swimming great distances.

Utter foolishness, old boy, another opined.

We will need proof of this claim, my good sir, an anonymous voice Quipped from somewhere in the dark.

She let escape from her full lips
The tiniest of shrieks.
Followed immediately
By
Sick
Regret.

(stupid girl, her mother’s voice echoed in the dark.
                             You always were too impulsive.)

Rage consumed her as
She struggled against the current.  
She tried to paddle for deeper
Water as the men broached
The black sheen of the river.

The moments passed by
In jagged surrealism.
There was no sound
When they pitched the woman
And child into the
Frigid abysm.

The splashing of water.
The gasping
For air.
The primal
Grapple and
Grunt of men.
The cold, pungent scent of
Fear and sweat mixed with the
Alcohol-stale air.
The twisting of
Hands that groped about the
Darkness.

         (Her rage now eclipsed by fear)

She inhaled.
Her body, numb.
Her appendages quaked.
Her body fading
As they fall upon her.
Their thick bodies
Blacked out the stars.
Their gaunt faces
Pinched and rucked in the
Moonlight
Reflected the fury, the
Hatred, and
The disgust for what would come next.
Their hands moved across her
Ravenous
Like demons as they
Groped at her small body
Beneath the choppy wash of the
River.

(A hand grazed her thigh and she shrieked in Terror. Another
         gnashed at her buttock. Another fell upon her back. Her mind
         reeled at the possibilities of what would need to come next.)

They tore at her clothing.
Her body jarred about the water as
She writhed against their grasps.
She clawed against the murk.                  
    
         (Escape the horror)

She released the paddle—

(Forever lost to the deep, useless to her now)

Hysterical animalistic thoughts
Trounced off their tongues as they
Laughed at her doom—

        (Like a pack of hyenas)

She kicked at them in nameless
Places.
She thrusted her hand into
The fabric where the child had been
Moments before cooing and clucking. 
Mere moments ago she had sang to the
Babe the same song her
Mother had once sung
To her.

             (she felt nothing where the child had been…)    

She struggled away from them.
Her mind frantic with pain, the cold,
And panic
For the child.
She no longer cared for
Herself, or what they would need to
Do with her body.
Her appendages
Flailed and churned in the dark water.
          
         (A single gasp of air followed by
              The burning inhale of water)

A shrill call to the child—

(a name lost to time)

Her voice cut through their maniacal
Laughter.
It echoed off the water and vanished,
Disappearing entirely
In the outer gloom of the wilderness.

        (like afterthoughts, lost)

She groped relentlessly among the
Water for the child.
The men, near
Frozen, lost interest and returned to
The adjacent shoreline.
It was more ****** that way.
They jeered at her,
Proud of themselves.
          
        (The seething lust of the mindless savage, she thinks)

Their mouths salivate
As they watched
Vicariously.
Her struggle
Became the current
For which she bore.
The impending death of the woman even
More satisfying than the feeling against their flesh of her cunning, wet crease that lies exposed between
Her brown legs.
They watch like wolves
Unable to reach their prey,
Desperate for fresh meat.
Despite the frigid cold,
Their *****, hard,
With the anticipation of death.

The woman clamored among the darkness
She searched for the child.
Heavy fingers fell upon woolen fabric
By chance—

(Hope bloomed in her constricted chest)

Her body finally beginning to seize
Exhaustion permeated
Her mind.
She freed the papoose
From the frozen depths and expelled
The last bit of energy she possessed
To swim to the far side of the shore,
Temporarily out of their reach.

The soldiers,
Quiet now,
Returned to the spectral woods.
They disappeared back down the
Black road from which they came.

She felt the blood as it began to
Return to her appendages, the pins And needles feeling erupting in them.
Her teeth clattered nearly exploding In her mouth.
Her body
Quaked Violently

         (The child, near in her mind, cried)

She reached for it.
Her chest,
Rising and
Falling,
Rapid like the river
As she inhaled the burning,
Frozen air.
The child let loose a cough and  
She clutched it
tighter to her *****.  

(Deny the river its prize)

A stream of consciousness,
Steadily slipped from her lips.

       (A great heathen prayer calling up some
                       Great Spirit
                                As she relentlessly brokered
                                            For a
                                       Life for a life)

The moments passed by like hours.
And the
Great Spirit, with
His wanton lust
For despair, did not manifest that night.

The child fell silent, then still.
The tears came now.
Blurred vision and
Angry sobs.
Darkness consumed entire.

The river flowed by her electric as if
Its lights descended from a place far
Beyond the black taciturn veil of
Night to reflect the merciless
Tragedies among the wretched souls of
The Maine Woods.
Shadows Rising Oct 2014
A musical trance seance under control by the hand of a shadow
A "Du hast" to a "Loco" To a "beautiful people"
A fraction of symphony, Sent by the gods of rock

Spiderweb rooms an corridor covered with the entrance to darkness set in place with danger light's, Strobe lights, an a fog machine set on auto
A haunted feel to a shack left cold an abandoned.
Equipped with superior beings and extended solo's of 6 string guitar's along with drum's and distorted bass guitar, setting the rhythm for our soul's,Feeding threw 4 large kickers.

This shadow was me
Venom
Decorated in crow face paint, Along with black attire to match my attitude
People came and went and came again
Supporting my and there craving for sublime sound
But one, the one, my goddess, my angel of death came to my dwelling, she came with a message

To indulge in my love

But also to give me a message of misery
To break me free of this chaotic world i was fixed in, with a bite to my fingertip the purified pressure was on
She wore the same colors as I
Only more dragged inline's
More pain, More beauty than she could see
I stared into her crystal corroded bloodshot eyes
I seen deep within herself
I saw pain, I saw hate for her fire, I saw hate from others
I had seen everything and nothing
I arose from my slumber to meet her in the darkness or mothers sleep
To give mother a great vision, a great dream and it was this
My angel of death, Meeting face to face, Eye to misery, Cure to disease, Beauty to ugly.

The words rolled off her tongue like the greatest embrace to a lover
Her words were sweet and seductive
Sprinkled with tears of a suicidal mind and a scarred wrist.
Then in a perfect moment are perfect tender love met with crying eyes and black lipstick.
Within that moment i ingested her misery
I took it and gave her what she deserved

Beauty

After the release of this lover's choice
We met vision and from there i seen the truth
I could never release her from this insanity
Only pamper or even embrace it
This timeless motion of misery will never stop ticking in my heart
Not till it expires!
I miss you.....
zebra Sep 2018
it's the management
here to inform you
your lust has been hacked

we know what your thinking
what you hide
we are all up in your business
like cyber terrorist's

don't ruin your life with to much self respect
we are all watching you *******
to mamma mia meets a hundred shades of crimson
and fight club blood ****
while you ***
screaming
ooooooooh god
licking
holes and poles
like a pig at a trough
praying to be handcuffed and on your knees
sweating and hysterical, a red moon struck **** face
high on drugs
in a dream better then this life has to offer

life is full of yogas
***** pony position
bouncy bouncy

i'm the light in your darkness
i know what you do
i want pieces of you, you wont show anyone else
your sickness, is my own
you are my love slave
turning me *******
who loves to hurt you

who's the *****
who's the switch

your flawless

now
cry me a river
move a little bit faster and to the left
your **** is a cartoon
**** grinning emoji
bleeding shrieking
fu fu fu fu *******
your brains running out of your eyes

gimmie all your venom
***** movie poem's
*** tongue and *****
your mouth like hemoglobin jewelry
saliva diamonds

kiss that
you'll never go back
squealing smooth heat
breathing winds of perfume
love and pain
united by
tragedy and desire
by
the grotesque and the beautiful
like thirst holds stones

stop crying

you know baby
you look your best on the toilet bowl
shameless
a delicious little *******
that holds me close to life
like a baby to the womb

please
stop banging on the door
i'm using this stall
Thank you
The Management
neo surrealism/ surveillance state ***
MBJ Pancras Dec 2011
The Great Flood swallowed up the dark hosts and guests,
They had played havoc to His holy Sanctuary:
Pigs and snakes had their ransom set at stake,
Mimicry and mockery of His Plan had played rampant,
They had believed in the knowledge of wealth and pleasures,
They had stamped the wisdom from Above,
They had swallowed the poison of the forbidden fruit,
And had shrouded themselves with the attire of the serpent.
But the Great Flood buried them with their wealth and pleasures;
Yet the chosen ones were left in the Ark of Christ.

The serpent propped his head with venom on earth,
And he laid the red carpet on the way of mankind.
He crowned mankind with knowledge and philosophies,
And man multiplied his generation with multiple deformities.
He broke the Chain of Heaven and built chasm with the serpent.

‘Let us build a tower of protection from a great flood,
And shake the scepter of Heaven WHO shook our wealth and pleasures,
Let us call our king of the chasm and teach a lesson to Heaven.
Let us be united with one tongue to combat the Mighty Power,
Let our tongue be the whip of unity and take revenge ‘gainst HIM,
For He hath killed our ancestors who had strolled in wealth and pleasures.
Let us make the world ring into philosophies and superstition,
And found an empire on the logic of the skeptic ruler of earth,
Let us proclaim the tongue of the universe and rule the cosmos,
Let us make new creed and dogmas with the altar full of aroma.
The tower shall be the lasting umbrella beneath the flood of rains,
And we shall not be swallowed by the wrath of Heaven,
And He shall be ashamed of His act against His creatures.’

‘Let English rule the cosmos and reach the unreachable,
And all nations bind together with the knot of communication.
Let the Chinese prepare war; let the Japanese trigger robots;
Let the Europeans stroll in their obsolete glory;
Let the Africans brandish the swords made of bamboos;
Let the Indians realize ‘unity in diversity’.
We shall build an empire on English and bring unity,
And the cosmos shall utter the word of globalization,
And here, let us, believe in the strength on universality.
We shall reach the sky high above the clouds of rain
And rule the moisture and the breeze and save the earth from floods.’

They shoot arrows in the air in void and vain,
They shout of universality breaking the ties of individuality,
They remind the tower of Babel, and boast of their weakly strength,
They launch satellites and missiles and build the space centre.
They install the globalized lingua franca into computers,
They raise the flag of ‘victory’ and shout at laugh at ‘defeats’;
But they know not what victory and defeats are.
They land on the tower of Babel and brandish their swords,
They drown in the quagmire of sensuality and drink pleasure,
They build castles on the summit of terrorism.
The game of death hath begun, and every soul counts its days.
‘Where shall I go? What shall be unto me? What is the earth’s destiny?’
Questions arise from the deep of the deepest looking for answers.
The world studies mundane philosophies, but fails to understand the WORD:
‘Heaven and earth pass away, but MY Words never live from Eternity to Eternity.”
A comparison between the tower of Babel and the globalization of English.
Like a snake
I want to sink my teeth
Rob you of your life
in the long run
Fill your veins with my venom
My beautiful, charming venom
You'll let me bite you,
they all do.
You'll feel a new high
accompanied by the lows
You'll reach for me
you'll pull me close.
But my work here is done,
You're not my number one.
I live for this, it's all for fun

And by the end
you'll wonder why
you're saying sorry
and I'm saying goodbye.
Michael R Burch Apr 2020
Enheduanna, the daughter of the famous King Sargon the Great of Akkad, is the first ancient writer whose name remains known today. Her bio appears after her poems, and it is a fascinating bio...



Temple Hymn 42: an Excerpt

to the Eresh Temple of Nisaba
by Enheduanna (circa 2285-2250 BCE)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

O, house of brilliant stars
bright with lapis stones,
you illuminate all lands!

...

The person who put this tablet together
is Enheduanna.
My king: something never created before,
did she not give birth to it?



Temple Hymn 15
to the Gishbanda Temple of Ningishzida
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

Most ancient and terrible shrine,
set deep in the mountain,
dark like a mother's womb...

Dark shrine,
like a mother's wounded breast,
blood-red and terrifying...

Though approaching through a safe-seeming field,
our hair stands on end as we near you!

Gishbanda,
like a neck-stock,
like a fine-eyed fish net,
like a foot-shackled prisoner's manacles...
your ramparts are massive,
like a trap!

But once we’re inside,
as the sun rises,
you yield widespread abundance!

Your prince
is the pure-handed priest of Inanna, heaven's Holy One,
Lord Ningishzida!

Oh, see how his thick, lustrous hair
cascades down his back!

Oh Gishbanda,
he has built this beautiful temple to house your radiance!
He has placed his throne upon your dais!



Temple Hymn 7: an Excerpt
to the Kesh Temple of Ninhursag
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

O, high-situated Kesh,
form-shifting summit,
inspiring fear like a venomous viper!

O, Lady of the Mountains,
Ninhursag’s house was constructed on a terrifying site!

O, Kesh, like holy Aratta: your womb dark and deep,
your walls high-towering and imposing!

O, great lion of the wildlands stalking the high plains!...



Temple Hymn 17: an Excerpt
to the Badtibira Temple of Dumuzi
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

O, house of jeweled lapis illuminating the radiant bed
in the peace-inducing palace of our Lady of the Steppe!



Temple Hymn 22: an Excerpt
to the Sirara Temple of Nanshe
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

O, house, you wild cow!
Made to conjure signs of the Divine!
You arise, beautiful to behold,
bedecked for your Mistress!



Temple Hymn 26: an Excerpt
to the Zabalam Temple of Inanna
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

O house illuminated by beams of bright light,
dressed in shimmering stone jewels,
awakening the world to awe!



Temple Hymn 42: an Excerpt
to the Eresh Temple of Nisaba
by Enheduanna
loose translation by Michael R. Burch

O, house of brilliant stars
bright with lapis stones,
you illuminate all lands!

...

The person who put this tablet together
is Enheduanna.
My king: something never created before,
did she not give birth to it?



Lament to the Spirit of War
by Enheduanna (circa 2285-2250 BCE)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

You hack down everything you see, War God!

Rising on fearsome wings
you rush to destroy our land:
raging like thunderstorms,
howling like hurricanes,
screaming like tempests,
thundering, raging, ranting, drumming,
whiplashing whirlwinds!

Men falter at your approaching footsteps.

Tortured dirges scream on your lyre of despair.

Like a fiery Salamander you poison the land:
growling over the earth like thunder,
vegetation collapsing before you,
blood gushing down mountainsides.

Spirit of hatred, greed and vengeance!

******* of heaven and earth!

Your ferocious fire consumes our land.

Whipping your stallion
with furious commands,
you impose our fates.

You triumph over all human rites and prayers.

Who can explain your tirade,
why you carry on so?



The Exaltation of Inanna: Opening Lines and Excerpts
by Enheduanna, the daughter of Sargon I of Akkad and the high priestess of the Goddess Inanna
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Lady of all divine powers!
Lady of the resplendent light!
Righteous Lady adorned in heavenly radiance!

Beloved Lady of An and Uraš!
Hierodule of An, sun-adorned and bejeweled!
Heaven’s Mistress with the holy diadem,
Who loves the beautiful headdress befitting the office of her own high priestess!

Powerful Mistress, seizer of the seven divine powers!
My Heavenly Lady, guardian of the seven divine powers!
You have seized the seven divine powers!
You hold the divine powers in your hand!
You have gathered together the seven divine powers!
You have clasped the divine powers to your breast!

You have flooded the valleys with venom, like a viper;
all vegetation vanishes when you thunder like Iškur!
You have caused the mountains to flood the valleys!
When you roar like that, nothing on earth can withstand you!

Like a flood descending on floodplains, O Powerful One, you will teach foreigners to fear Inanna!

You have given wings to the storm, O Beloved of Enlil!
The storms do your bidding, blasting the unbelievers!

Foreign cities cower at the chaos You cause!
Entire countries cower in dread of Your deadly South Wind!
Men cower before you in their anguished implications,
raising their pitiful outcries,
weeping and wailing, beseeching Your benevolence with many wild lamentations!

But in the van of battle, everything falls before You, O Mighty Queen!

My Queen,
You are all-conquering, all-devouring!
You continue Your attacks like relentless storms!
You howl louder than the howling storms!
You thunder louder than Iškur!
You moan louder than the mournful winds!
Your feet never tire from trampling Your enemies!
You produce much wailing on the lyres of lamentations!

My Queen,
all the Anunna, the mightiest Gods,
fled before Your approach like fluttering bats!
They could not stand in Your awesome Presence
nor behold Your awesome Visage!

Who can soothe Your infuriated heart?
Your baleful heart is beyond being soothed!

Uncontrollable Wild Cow, elder daughter of Sin,
O Majestic Queen, greater than An,
who has ever paid You enough homage?

O Life-Giving Goddess, possessor of all powers,
Inanna the Exalted!

Merciful, Live-Giving Mother!
Inanna, the Radiant of Heart!
I have exalted You in accordance with Your power!
I have bowed before You in my holy garb,
I the En, I Enheduanna!

Carrying my masab-basket, I once entered and uttered my joyous chants ...

But now I no longer dwell in Your sanctuary.
The sun rose and scorched me.
Night fell and the South Wind overwhelmed me.
My laughter was stilled and my honey-sweet voice grew strident.
My joy became dust.

O Sin, King of Heaven, how bitter my fate!

To An, I declared: An will deliver me!
I declared it to An: He will deliver me!

But now the kingship of heaven has been seized by Inanna,
at Whose feet the floodplains lie.

Inanna the Exalted,
who has made me tremble together with all Ur!

Stay Her anger, or let Her heart be soothed by my supplications!
I, Enheduanna will offer my supplications to Inanna,
my tears flowing like sweet intoxicants!
Yes, I will proffer my tears and my prayers to the Holy Inanna,
I will greet Her in peace ...

O My Queen, I have exalted You,
Who alone are worthy to be exalted!
O My Queen, Beloved of An,
I have laid out Your daises,
set fire to the coals,
conducted the rites,
prepared Your nuptial chamber.
Now may Your heart embrace me!

These are my innovations,
O Mighty Queen, that I made for You!
What I composed for You by the dark of night,
The cantor will chant by day.

Now Inanna’s heart has been restored,
and the day became favorable to Her.
Clothed in beauty, radiant with joy,
she carried herself like the elegant moonlight.

Now to the Noble Hierodule,
to the Wrecker of foreign lands
presented by An with the seven divine powers,
and to my Queen garbed in the radiance of heaven ...

O Inanna, praise!



Enheduanna, the daughter of the famous King Sargon the Great of Akkad, is the first ancient writer whose name remains known today. She appears to be the first named poet in human history and the first known author of prayers and hymns. Enheduanna, who lived circa 2285-2250 BCE, is also one of the first women we know by name. She was the entu (high priestess) of the goddess Inanna (Ishtar/Astarte/Aphrodite) and the moon god Nanna (Sin) in the Sumerian city-state of Ur. Enheduanna's composition Nin-me-šara ("The Exaltation of Inanna") details her expulsion from Ur, located in southern Iraq, along with her prayerful request to the goddess for reinstatement. Enheduanna also composed 42 liturgical hymns addressed to temples across Sumer and Akkad. And she was the first editor of a poetry anthology, hymnal or songbook. Now known as the Sumerian Temple Hymns, this was the first collection of its kind; indeed, Enheduanna so claimed at the end of the final hymn: "My king, something has been created that no one had created before." And poems and songs are still being assembled today via the model she established over 4,000 years ago! Enheduanna may also have been the first feminist, as she made Inanna the supreme deity. Keywords/Tags: Enheduanna, translation, Akkad, Sumer, Nanna, Inanna, Ur, Sumerian temple hymns, Gishbanda, Ningishzida



The Love Song Of Shu-Sin
(the earth's oldest love poem, Sumerian, circa 2,000 BC)
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch

Darling of my heart, my belovéd,
your enticements are sweet, far sweeter than honey.
Darling of my heart, my belovéd,
your enticements are sweet, far sweeter than honey.

You have captivated me; I stand trembling before you.
Darling, lead me swiftly into the bedroom!
You have captivated me; I stand trembling before you.
Darling, lead me swiftly into the bedroom!

Sweetheart, let me do the sweetest things to you!
My precocious caress is far sweeter than honey!
In the bedchamber, dripping love's honey,
let us enjoy life's sweetest thing.
Sweetheart, let me do the sweetest things to you!
My precocious caress is far sweeter than honey!

Bridegroom, you will have your pleasure with me!
Speak to my mother and she will reward you;
speak to my father and he will award you gifts.
I know how to give your body pleasure—
then sleep, my darling, till the sun rises.

To prove that you love me,
give me your caresses,
my Lord God, my guardian Angel and protector,
my Shu-Sin, who gladdens Enlil's heart,
give me your caresses!
My place like sticky honey, touch it with your hand!
Place your hand over it like a honey-*** lid!
Cup your hand over it like a honey cup!

This is a balbale-song of Inanna.

This may be earth's oldest love poem. It may have been written around 2000 BC, long before the Bible's "Song of Solomon, " which had been considered to be the oldest extant love poem by some experts. The poem was discovered when the archaeologist Austen Henry Layard began excavations at Kalhu in 1845, assisted by Hormuzd Rassam. Layard's account of the excavations, published in 1849 CE, was titled Nineveh and its Remains. Due to Nineveh's fame (from the Bible) , the book became a best seller. But it turned out that the excavated site was not Nineveh, after all, as Layard later discovered when he excavated the real Nineveh.

As a surrogate for Inanna, the bride's mother would be either Ninlil or possibly Ningal, both goddesses.

As a surrogate for Inanna, the bride's father would be either Enlil or possibly Suen, both gods.

Shu-Sin was a Mesopotamian king who ruled over the land of Sumer close to four thousand years ago. The poem seems to be part of a rite, probably performed each year, known as the "sacred marriage" or "divine marriage, " in which the king would symbolically marry the goddess Inanna, mate with her, and so ensure fertility and prosperity for the coming year. The king would accomplish this amazing feat by marrying and/or having *** with a priestess or votary of Inanna, the Sumerian goddess of love, fertility and war. Her Akkadian name was Istar/Ishtar, and she was also known as Astarte. Whichever her name, she was the most prominent Mesopotamian female goddess. Inanna's primary temple was the Eanna, located in Uruk. But there were many other temples dedicated to her worship. The high priestess would choose a young man who represented the shepherd Dumuzid, the consort of Inanna, in a hieros gamos or sacred marriage, celebrated during the annual Akitu (New Year)ceremony, at the spring Equinox. The name Inanna derives from the Sumerian words for "Lady of Heaven." She was associated with the lion-a symbol of power-and was frequently depicted standing on the backs of two lionesses. Her symbol was an eight-pointed star or a rosette. Like other female love and fertility goddesses, she was associated with the planet Venus. The Enlil mentioned was Inanna's father, the Sumerian storm god, who controlled the wind and rain. (According to some god/goddess genealogies, Enlil was her grandfather.)In an often-parched land, the rain god would be ultra-important, and it appears that one of the objects of the "divine marriage" was to please Enlil and encourage him to send rain rather than destructive storms! Enlil was similar to the Bible's Jehovah, in that he was the supreme deity, and sometimes sent rain and plenty, but at other times sent war and destruction. Certain passages of the Bible appear to have been "borrowed" by the ancient Hebrews from much older Sumerian texts such as the Epic of Gilgamesh. Such accounts include the creation myth, the Garden of Eden myth, and the myth of the Great Flood and a mankind-saving ark. However, the Hebrew scribes modified the accounts to suit their theology, so in the Bible there is only one "god" who controls everything, and thus behaves like an angel at times and like a demon at others. And that is understandable if one posits that one god controls the weather, since earth's weather is unpredictable and at times seems like a blessing and at other times like a curse.



Untitled Heresies: The ur Poems

& GAUD said, “Let there be LIGHT VERSE
to illuminate the ‘nature’ of my Curse!”
—michael r. burch

reverse the Curse
with LIGHT VERSE!
recant the cant
with an illuminating chant
,etc.
—michael r. burch

Can the darkness of Christianity with its “eternal hell” be repealed via humor? It’s time to recant the cant, please pardon the puns.

if ur GAUD
is good,
half the Bible
is libel.
—michael r. burch

Christianity replaces Santa Claus with Jesus, so swell,
and coal, ashes and soot with an “eternal hell.”
—Michael R. Burch



day eight of the Divine Plan
by michael r. burch

the earth’s a-stir
with a GAUDLY whirr...

the L(AWE)D’s been creatin’!

com(men)ce t’ matin’!

hatch lotsa babies
he’ll infect with rabies
then ban from college
for seekin’ knowledge
like curious eve!

dear chilluns, don’t grieve,
be(lie)ve the Deceiver!

(never ask why ur Cupid
wanted eve stupid,
animalistic, and naked.)

ah-men!

Keywords/Tags: Enheduanna, Poetess, Sumer, Sumerian, Akkad, Akkadian, Saragon, Ur, High Priestess, Hymn, Hymns, Hymnist, Psalm, Psalms, Psalmist, Prayer, Prayers, Lament, Lamentations, Goddess, Nanna, Inanna, Ishtar, Astarte, Aphrodite, Sauska, Ornament of Heaven, mrbtr, mrbtran, mrbhymn
Coursing through my veins
Like venom after bite
Slowly becoming paralyzed
Fighting for my life
Choking on my *****
Vision black as night
Pulse about to flat line
Thats what your love is like.
Kaye Berry Jul 2014
whenever i would say no
your face would darken
& i can see smoke
filling into your irises
light
getting blocked
by a deeper hunger
the tongue is not able
to understand

you would bare your teeth
& get onto me anyway
sinking your fangs
deep
into my paper skin
leaving so much
red
on my flesh

you know
i have found another
heartbeat
inside of me
&
i can't let my body
be its home
for there's so much of you
staining on me
your venom
is pulsating within me

&
maybe
this is the only thing
i will keep
from
you
this was a "challenge" given to me by m.

— The End —