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Mikayla S Lewis Jul 2016
When words become ablation
And hands are merely frame,
I stand in hesitation
Avoiding vapid flame.
With lack of motivation
I stride with grueling step
To **** sordid crustaceans
Consuming my own head.
Karijinbba Mar 2021
Kiriaki Olivia Eleni Mada-lozi
from Piraeus Greece Billy
ugly Marcia, Sherry Shriki, Darni, Judy Gim, Alb- tch, Jeff Albr.. Henry Robert W
Impotent ejaculator precosē. Charles manson's advocates; Henry Robert narcissistic
your sociopath psychopath nurse from hell in LA CA.
You aren't above the law
Poisoners sterile hainas  
Susan WRat no.
**** human predators human traficants to hell with you all- ratas inmundas! Emilia Velazquez thief IHSS should put you in jail And immigration take your green card stealing my savings and stimulus money cashed. Shame on you rata inmunda ladrona.

Filthy rats
Creeping animals
**** of life
Shoddy monstrosity.

Subhuman
Spectres of Hell
**** vermins
How much damaged you've done to me and my daughter's
Poisoning them with hallucinogenic metamphetamins psychotropics without them knowing
Then, blackmailing them to give up their parental rights to sterile haenas jealous medeas
Add insult to injury to my family forcing psychiatric pill intake to hide your ancient crimes
Your hate crime is now public susan ra-t-ano hell *****

You bought my grown daughter from the human predators I had escaped from
1982.
Coward filthy **** *****

Vermin word raitano
Poisonous serpent
Waste of life
I hate you and despise you.

Two-legged rats
I'm talking to you all
because creeping creatures,
even being the most cursed,
compared to your evildoers
vermin human predators,
a creeping snake
stands taller than you all.

**** leeches
**** cockraoches
you who infects with bites,
who hurts and who kills.
Slanders trashing whoever
is holy good and precious

You Vermin
Poisonous serpents
Waste of life
I hate you and despise you.
I bind to you all my motherly pain I curse you in every life time.
Two-legged filthy rats,
I'm talking to you!
because a creeping creature,
even being the most cursed and ugly, in hell, on Earth
unwelcome in heaven,
compared to you **** brains.
stands much taller.

You're listening to me
useless
Hyena of Hell
How much I hate you and despise you!

**** leech
**** cockraoch
you who infects with bites,
who hurts and who kills.

Vermin
Poisonous serpents
In everyone's paradise.
Waste of life
I hate you and despise you.

Two-legged my filthy rats
I'm talking to you too ***** donors madalozi charms.bos henry welonek.
because a creeping creature,
even being the most cursed compared to you
You stand even smaller.
~~~~~~~
Repost.
By Paquita del Barrio
And Karijinbba.
1976-present
All Rights.
To my unprovoked filthy enemies
Child torturers may karmic dñnnnebt give you all
an eye for an eye poisonous night shades vampires may my light blast you all out
Dada Olowo Eyo Jun 2013
Roaches, roaches!!
I can stand annoying rats,
But those ****, winged vermins,
I chase with malevolent bats.
tranquil Jan 2014
find me not for i am past
the promise of your heart
hear me not when silence does
dig our nights apart

trust me not when i do swear
upon a tranquil light
sing into the wilderness
yearn your tender sight

seek a snowy yesterday
to memories resign
as the ocean's secret vain
fathomlessly lie

slenderly ignore the taste
of penitence awhile
bury my brazen shallow songs
all up in tearing skies

if blowing blooms of dust desire
veil vermins fleetingly
play and pose as puppet hands
hunt and yet haunted be

for the sake of love suspire
swig in a morning dream
until your soul's a raging fire
please stop loving me
Dada Olowo Eyo Jan 2015
Leathery vermins,
All over the place,
Smelly rotens,
Invading my bachelor space.
cv Feb 2016
in this stressful society we have,
so much slanders,
                              sins,
                                     scandals
                                                     have been scrutinized over
and over
              again

for the satisfaction of sardonic,
                      scornful,
      "sacred"
­disparagers.

      nothing shocks me more
           than the so-called "spectacular" sculpturing of others
  based on the dehumanizing standards
                                                       ­            of mankind.

shackled
              by the scalding hands of screeching vermins,
why do we keep on letting ourselves be scarred--
                                  stuttering,
     ­                                                shuddering,
              screaming
for help
because simple succors are never,
                                       have never been,
                                         will never be
                                                                  enough?

why
       do we keep letting ourselves be singled out
as stigmas
        when "failing" society's endless scans for
superficial perfection?

*(how sickening.)
/just a little thing i made maybe a year ago. i had a lot of fun with this.
(although, i have no idea how this would look like in mobile.)/
TR3F1LD Nov 2024
keep on crafting verses
which ain't just a means of killing time
but, lyrics-wise
also a means of whacking turkeys
and black hA̲ts I'm versus
such as hacks with lyrics rather poorly
organized, which is why they're strE̲E̲t-gang-like
and, of course, autocratic vermins
composing both unjust regimes & crime
rings; said means of whacking, fO̲r when
my stuff's hatched, I̲t seems like
the close quarters battle chO̲I̲ce pre—
—ferred among primeval tribes
of present days northwestern states
["hatchet"; North American Indians; USA & Canada]
once again, a path of wA̲r is
picked, like how you may feel after surfing
through bA̲d news, O̲r when
you indulge in consumption
of content re injustice, corruption
["piqued"]
ju[ɪ]st like the weapon O̲f the Reaper
I've gO̲t a grim side
["scythe"]
and, like a cross gal-beater
'bout to blow off his ******* steam by
laying his meat hooks O̲n a chica
done no wrong to him, my
plan of attack is horrid; hope you o[ɑ]pps have **** hearses
plus caskets ordered
for yourselves; a nutbA̲g with swO̲rd dex—
—terity; dozen slashing strikes A̲t a tO̲rse, which
like a lush lass performing
in front of you a **[ɑ]t lA̲p dance, serves as
stimulation; then I hA̲ck off fO̲relimbs
and as a final blow
I get my target's gO̲rge slit
many would likely ca[ɔ]ll
such scene "bloodbath", but that's absurdish
for, in the scene, there's o[ɑ]bvi no
******* tub A̲s a storage
for spilled blood; it reminds me mo'
of a blood fountain (view-wise)
an assassin thirsty for blood's back to murking
————————————————————————————————
you know, knowledge & thou[ɑ]ghts about things
being either unjust, such as crim. rings
or unrighteous regimes, or O̲nes causing de[ɪ]s—
—pondence, regardless if I̲t's
something from the past or stuff that exists
in the present, are like a disease
that's why it's said unkno[ɑ]wledge is bliss
[to be more precise, "ignorance is bliss"]
that's why sO̲metimes you wish
your mI̲nd were at peace, like sO̲meone deceased
or you were in a better place
like a country scene wI̲th autumnal sU̲n-illumed trees, but...
————————————————————————————————
like an eye-catching gI̲rl with
an untactful shO̲rt rig
pU̲t on (like that war-monge[—]ring sh#tbag)
(that personifies a corruptive impact)
(of power) & acting *****
in front of an unattached het bO̲y, this
**** autocratic wO̲rld's ju[ɪ]st
****** asking for it (aaargh!)
while you already've got a tragic pE̲rs. en—
—vironment, which, alongsI̲de of the sh#t
mentioned just prior, has you turning
slowly into a ******* madman bursting
with flipping steam (loco)
excuse me if it's an indecent thing
to say, but the world of the living seems
like a giga[ɛ]ntic dumpsite (gigantic dumpsite)
for it's full of pieces of trash deserving
to be eliminated; that's why
you sometimes wish you were a master termi—
—nator serving as a real embo[ɑ]dier
of retribution, like Red Hood, Punisher
besides, as it's been mentioned prior ta
this, there's anger occurring I̲n you O̲nce in a
while, which itself isn't mU̲ch of a
scourge, unlike ex-hitmen compelled to cO̲me back ta
a path of spilling blO̲O̲d, but, a—
—kin to a cellar with a bU̲nch of au[ɑ]—
—thoritarian-regime-or-mafia-
-linked ******, some drU̲ms of a—
—lcohol, & a ca[ɛ]ndle lustre o[ɑ]—
—ccupying a somewhat evil mI̲nd of a
vengeful sO̲n of a
gun, it's a somewhat combustible story
["storey"]
when you've got not up to ***** sources
of blowing off steam
————————————————————————————————
atrocious, obscene
in self-expression, but it's just a reflection of this
corrupt world that I've been
influenced by; while the boat that I'm in
is a far cry from a floating posh inn
["by floating posh inn", I mean "cruise liner"]
more like an old brigantine
with nigh-on nO̲body bei[—]ng
on board; but even
sinking lO̲w when I scheme
my bars, I'm sti̲ll on
a morally higher ground than those rO̲gues I'm agin
like Ledger's Joker, I deem
this world deserves a better category of crims
than gangsters & ******* ******* for im—
—proper, self-assertive regimes; a bO̲ld breed of in—
—dividuals who'd be disposing of prin—
—ciple-lacking sods blindfolded by ching
and power, like thO̲se I've just in—
—dicated; you may get your f#ck finger
and your pointer organized, sim. ta
a **** mo[ɑ]b, I̲nto the V sign if ya
know who I mean
[9 letters, the 1st one is "v", the last one is "e"]
"a wicked rhymefall" by TR3F1LD (TRFLD) is licensed under CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (to view a copy of this license, visit creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/4.0)
Aditya Roy Jul 2019
Finding lost lamps in the endless river
Finding lost paths in the endless sea of shiny slivers
Superimposed by cherry blossoms looking to get red, falling like the samurai wind
A metaphorical sword in the word of the kicking and rolling with the deracinated punches
Leers and steers, queers and the prayers comin' in the firm hands and the strutting souls that just can't make it through
Trembling and positive rhapsody, heartbeat flows through these terrible feelings with ease and rough edges
That gives me some relief in the ruins of a time past and has gone ne'er to wait on the cusp of time
The temerity of the weak people gets on the nerves of the patient who wait to test time
Loving you is like a trap, and the journey ends up in the faintest memory
These are things that make the spring lust, undermining everything that I remember

The sunset line can be mistaken for this road of hopeful faith
And opportunity comes with it, and some lost souls find their destiny awakening
Impression and departure, it's just case of arriving somewhere but here in the future of adversity
Fickle lady luck you've made my life, a metaphorical world
Just for a metaphysical girl, in case I just forget
How funny it is when life is times in perspective
Adding a soundtrack too can make it or break it
etudes, classical violins and broken dreams in this town of blue notes and thick smoke and purple groove
Haze doesn't work as a substitute for connective interfaces
Freedom to bucolic cygnets too truant to dream desire and demean
Swimming in the pool with the same ducks and ugly as cracked places
Traces of you, smoldering smitten semaphoring thoughts of someone close to you

Killjoy, repeat joy, you don't say; tell me more about your bebop and hip pop
Hip hop doesn't stop, until the groove is gone and the night as right
I guess I'm to blame for that rap music
Trepidatious isn't it being surreptitious, sounds silence in the dancing dark
Your mountain dog helps you awake in mended ways of a villainous version of systems and resuscitated governments
Of hootenanny, heralding the vernacular and jokes and veritable wine of aged humor, the dogs of the military take it all
Sharing it with the slightly avuncular makes it singularly appealing

Like a rat crossing the vegetations to look for slavery
Forging the plots of the bubonic pathos of plagued souls
Logical isn't how the rebirth died with a topical topsy-turvy thing called metaphors and teenage angst
Tranches and branches, stigmatize these sprigs of hovering forest of the streams of streaming rivers through the Conrad lands of radiance and splendor
Reminding of madness, barren words of the baroness, iridescent memory
Telling us only time could wait for us, and tell us to fly above all these vermins and scar tissues
Sermonize and call the heaven-sent, and ask for destiny awakening, in the crimson red, celestial bodies that resemble celadon
Love is true, till is you, that flows through the river in you
I could tell you till my face is a different hue, I dream of a better time in this place called reality
Reminding myself everything is in reverse, and distant memory is just the closest feeling I recount when each iambic meter states the verses of this timeless life  
Remember from the blues and the acropolis and metropolitan incriminating, all these people going across like fleeting figures of the literary imagination
I could care less, and leave this city too, this is a thought I keep
If I could run away from this destiny too if I wasn't sleeping at the new kid's place in this town, drinking on the borrowed time of strangers
Trenchant, turpitude and tocsin is the truth when it comes to freely loading all your murderous cases of reprise and flickering lamps
True is just me that thinks it's relevant to this germane generation following the natural order, calling it the new substance
Simply railing through this blazing road, I'm on fire
Intermission and comes transience
This hip hop is old and so is the talk of condolences, shot rappers for gold and fake names
Riches from rags, to make homes out of the outbound trembling time that scares common time
And talk of immediate memory, and thespian and tulips blossom similarly
Putting on an act, like the midnight pretenders bending midnight spoons
Surmise and I suppose to be yours if I could get over these brighter stars of the darkness
Make your magnum opus with the correction and subjective precision, that you would show an etherized patient
Terse and cursory, you're spontaneity only syncopates with the silence
The redaction of statements would be criminal and I would rather like your writing on some stolen notebook
Grasping and gaping Centauri, releasing gases like the solar chrome horses
Inane and intermittent, aren't these sunshine beams, God wouldn't want me to be a sagacious beam
In the unforgiven law of the supposed religious belief and the dream weavers, make of the same sky we share
They might mistake the distance of the Sun, for God's light shining on cues
So, says the man who sold the world, to the cumulus accord that governs the capricious desert
Surpassing this law takes some law and serfs, breakfast is served by the smurf-head
The sun shines on us all, especially those who have mouths to feed
And don't understand boulders, unsteady tears, and cologne
They revel in the thought of seeing sunshine on their weary shoulders the coalition of the hollow men
Country roads, hitchhiking, I'm lost on road called sunset free street, the straws burning
People ask me, why I never appear on this trailblazing cars and find a hilarious lintel saying "This way for Love."
Suppose, I should tell them that I'm famously private and I don't take rides from strangers and don't lend hands to those without money
Love talkin' about that sometime, honey
Sometimes is never and some semblance of the past that was fiduciary
Smug and shy, I'm not sure that guy brings me some childish dreams and inspired, stirring, and compelling stories
Dada Olowo Eyo Mar 2018
But the rats still give a fuss,
Vermins in defiant show of force,
Too fat to lift a paw,
Did you manicure that claw?
Despite the deployment of troops to the Middle Belt North Central region of Nigeria, fulani herdsmen invade, destroy farmlands, spill the blood of the people there.
Yenson Sep 2020
and the avid beggars
hog the cold sidewalks jaundiced arms
outstretched
bloodied palms opened
professionals doing what professionals do
attired
in that ropey blanket of sheep skinned
the mouldy ties with the chains of fortunes missed
the trousers of everyman blues I mixed with de wrung uns
their guardy jackets screams jailhouse rock with stench
and the tattered trainers logoed
I took wrung turns - I made mistakes, man

So these unseen hogs hog the cold pavements of the losers
eyes glazes with street certificate of excellence
as the able and firm trundle past
carrying work logs and season tickets
notes files laptops with Reports needed yesterday
the white vans men
and mothers on budgets do not even look
all have other mouths to feed
and prostitution is no option
they all sailed past the things with the outstretched palms

our beggars cloudy eyes know the drill
money for nothing is a hard gig
they may ignore us like we are vermins on gin
but what knows them
bout the law of averages
persistence is the key, persistence is the key
we control them but they know not
hey, office workers, moms and white vans men
plumbers, teachers, rat-racers
come see me at day's end

I probably make more than you do in a week
from my cold side walk
I control you
and more pockets than denims
its a numbers game
and persistence is the key
we of the underground know that....
Dan K Mar 2019
the scratches on her legs grow deeper and deeper
they tell of a tall growing tree
with fruits of plenty, feeding the girl with sweet daydreams
they feather her wings as she is thurst up, free
but one must take account for gravity
earth provides ground for our feet
earth defogs the haze of our dreamy lenses
the fruit falls and gashses free its meat
the ants swarm the juicy sweetness and take it for their own
the sun's blaze rots the girl's golden honey
the skin wilts in the dusty air
and the girl laughs until it feels funny
she waits for fruit falling just for her
because the branches that lifted her have aged and fallen
but fruit falls to the ungrateful vermins
and they taunt her with their singing calling
she's starving, her arms are frail and bony
she falls on the roots of the sprawling giant
she asks for its branches, its wood, its shade
but it whispers that their needs are more compliant
she begs for just a scrap or protection from the fire
but it turns her away for the termites
she feels the sweetness draining from her veins
and the daydreams being outshone by a violent light
her screams stifle her throught and set her dreams ablaze
and she takes the axe out of the anger she forbade
but she remembers the sweetness of the fruit she will never taste
as she falls from the sweet splinters, she lets herself succumb to the blade

— The End —