"visciously" poems
When women **** 'tis a blessing,
As they drug an innocent young man,
Shedding his clothes for the reaping,
And then blame him for being a man,
When women beat, 'tis funny,
As they drag the guy crying for help,
His blood dripping as thick as honey,
Women laughing at his painful yelp,
When women lie, 'tis truth when she cries,
You'll be called a sexist if you don't believe, For when women do visciously decieve,
All the knights in the land rally and rise,
And without a careful judgement of the court,
A man was sentenced to the living morgue,
Behind bars of steel inside a stone fort,
Rotting inside like his fellow corpses.
Oct 13, 2018
Oct 13, 2018 at 8:13 AM UTC
Sitting by the tarmac
as the fog settles in
my mind and heart
trace the pathways
where you've been
I've givin of my soul to you
oh so selflessly
yet sometimes I have to think
it's a one way street
Again I feel the fool
who played and danced in vain
for the palace royalty
then taken out and hanged
I hope that this is not the case
but my heart is growing faint
all I've ever wanted from you
is to be your friend unchained
Don't cry or curse
when I am gone
It's what you planned all along
to rob me of my will to be
stabbing my soul so visciously
I don't know what I did to you
except maybe try to love you
yet time and time
and time again
it's all the same
in the end
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 10:09 PM UTC
it ends in tonalities of spliced ends
some woven together others
jutting into nowhere dangling
like a Dylan song you love but don't
quite know all the metaphorical meanings to
of nowheres and space probes
sent to tickle you
on your own you must believe in
something more
special spacious
put meanings into amorous
trysts space gods
mystiques
unadorned with the accepted norms
a late night sobbing alone
cats and dogs your companions now
but knowing some outer space
visciously beautiful being
is gonna haunt you soon
and fly you off to the moon making passion
without touch a beam a laser like on your ******
tickles get it doll
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 11:48 PM UTC
Thoughs whirl.
They writhe and rest,
float and sink,
shout and whisper,
coalesce
and
dissolve.
The constant and deafening cacophony of thought,
deep and wide and long,
stretches to the horizon and beyond,
Seemingly endless.
I shudder at the thought of thought sometimes,
memories meeting ideas,
but I'm deafened by the constant white noise
of its gently frothing waves.
It's beyond me, as they should be.
This ocean is serene
and the parts indiscernible from the whole.
I can sit at the shore safely if I dont wade in.
I may simply view
whatever might float to the surface.
They lap at the edges of my consciousness,
Tingle against the anterior of my skull,
But,
Thankfully,
Remain incomprehensible in their awful entirety.
It is only when my ocean
of memories and ideas organize that I need be afraid,
for I can comprehend a patern.
It is only when the gentle lapping becomes a treacherous bombora,
crashing against white cliffs,
That I am struck with their crippling ripples of anxiety,
because I begin to understand their enormity.
When
thoughts
writhe,
float,
shout
and coalesce,
They slam into me,
Eroding my delicate posture.
I am
unzipped,
unbuttoned,
unlaced,
in ribbons strewn across the bed.
I become undone,
at my own mercy.
Another one makes it's way yo the surface.
Perhaps this will be a calming memory?
No,
it's my own
grasping
hand.
I grab my ankles as I flee
the oncoming tide,
and drag myself into the depths.
I sink,
clutching myself,
struggling
to escape myself.
I can feel myself begin to weaken and descend,
my cries muffled and my flesh diffusing in my own malefactory clutches as I gnaw at my spine visciously.
I pity me as I mercilessly tear into myself at my own digression.
Battering myself into submission
and eating away at my delicate chassis;
I leave a pitiful puddle to sink into my sheets.
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 8:20 AM UTC