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patty m Nov 2014
Vaporous conjecture
an ongoing lecture sets
alarms blaring, light years away
Godling on the fringe,
on a power binge
biting pitch-black,
ready to sack the experiment in

Beyond the rise blind eyes
needn't see to surmise the indeterminable
depth of the emptiness of Earth's shadow.
Fertile fields turn fallow as hate's ****
seeds countless war-torn lands
while grand weaponry expands.
Build until we annihilate whole countries at a time
in the sublime madness of power
the glowering fallout
suffocates our shouts of glee
gasping,  
                 we forget who is or was the enemy.

To our chagrin, infusions stimulate cataclysm,
while the sun with awkward precision
does it's regular crawl,
arcing against the skyline
until it hits an impenetrable wall  

Now viscous flesh
sits congealing
gelling in turbulence's unrest
unaware that the air is putrid
now that our planet's
completely compressed.

Good bye to war, greed, and temptation,
goodbye to love and **** and prayer
some will rot in a wormhole
and no one will know they were there. .
Others will  sink in the mire
some will travel to the outskirts of time
while the rest will simply expire
to the beat of this incessant rhyme.
Chicken Mar 6
When I see you in the room,
I step over gently,
like a gazelle
Cause I know you know
I’m delicate
Guns blazin’ just for safety.

When I see you in the room,
I can put down all my weaponry
Everything
in my cellular memory
Is tellin’ me ‘it’s ok’.
I think this is unfinished...
Terry O'Leary Sep 2015
1
Though still within our infancy,
we strive to thrive, but woefully
we flash and flaunt our 'primacy',
display our trophies pridefully.

Our terra firma ecstasy
destroys survival's harmony,
lays waste to life on land and sea.
Mankind, thy name is vanity!

By doubting Nature's regnancy,
defying laws with levity,
we strain our spheroid's symmetry
(perhaps a fatal fallacy?)

for, swallowed in the 'world of we',
we feed on vain insanity
with thoughts beyond eternity -
so strange when looked at mortally.

No use to seek a remedy
ensconced in ancient prophecy
for if not handled skillfully,
as clay we'll pay the penalty.

                              2
The Moguls rule with cruel decree,
control the crowds like puppetry,
pursuing greed addictively
with no accountability.

The wind, it reeks of Royalty
(awash in waves of perfidy)
while blowing ’cross the peasantry
(eclipsed in clouds of treachery).

The Queen, well steeped in snobbery,
sits, preening proud Her pedigree,
on throne of sculpted ebony
while sipping Sect immodestly;

to sate Her Regal Majesty,
a caviar clad canapé
is served with golden cutlery
by maidens bent submissively.

The King is bailed from bankruptcy
by Knaves who hoodwink artfully
the down-and-outer evictee
who wallows in their lenity.

Forsooth, the Money Monarchy
exalts the dollar dynasty
engaged in highway robbery
by Peacocks plumed in finery.

Yes, Jesters and the Fools agree
to truckle to duplicity
and laugh about it witlessly.
Long live the peon's penury!

                          3
To champion an oddity
(like two times twelve is fifty three)  
one reaches to theology
through paths of circularity.

In bygone trials of travesty
the doubters, draped in blasphemy,
endured the pain and agony
inflicted by the papacy.

Inspired by the Trinity
fanatics bent cosmology
in geocentric fantasy
while Bruno burned for heresy;

and aged women, randomly
accused of wicked witchery
by justice framed in infamy,
were racked and shown no clemency

That epoch of credulity
(when savants fostered sorcery
and practiced ancient alchemy)
arose in dark age quackery

as clerics dripping piety
(while raging, raving rabidly)
pervaded thralled society
with callous inhumanity;

'repent', they bellowed, 'verily,
forsake the world's iniquity,
live lives of want and chastity,
and give your gelt to God through me'.

                    4
The Masters make a mockery
of freedom and democracy
by holding down the uppity,
released from shackled slavery,

now fettered in a factory
else strewn across the Bowery,
still chained in bonds of bigotry,
immersed in seas of poverty.

And colliers, tapping balefully
in sunken-mine solemnity,
yet thrum a mournful monody
some call the digger's elegy.

To children, pale and raggedy
(behind a day of drudgery),
the boss man, oh so gallantly,
bestows a penny, niggardly;

though some are fed (belatedly),
their eyes recede in apathy
while bellies bulge, inflatedly,
with mothers watching, wretchedly.

When met with health adversity
or broken bone infirmity,
the pauper dangles helplessly
with no insurance policy;

and those engulfed in lunacy
are ailing blobs left floating free
in ******-dream obscurity -
a mired madhouse odyssey.

Ignoring mankind's unity,
the rich and poor dichotomy
breeds dismal doomed finality,
eventual nihility.

                        5
Renewing days of chivalry,
wild warriors fighting valiantly
bring freedom neath the gallows tree
while blending blood and burgundy

to toast the slaughtered enemy,
and so convince the colony
to cede with smile on bended knee
and yield her diamonds, silk and tea.

At first they call the cavalry
and then again the infantry,
so proudly primped in panoply,
with arms from finest armory

(embraced in hands so tenderly
bestow benign atrocity) -
and soon atomic weaponry
will extirpate posterity.

                          6
Misusing high technology
(to feed the face of gluttony)
depletes our Rock of energy,
now slowly dying thermally.

Our gadgets breathing CFC
fuel ozone holes' immensity
while cloud bursts, raining acidly,
wilt woods in their entirety,

and rivers, tainted chemically,
polluted biologically,
refill our cups methodically
and drown our souls organically.

Adjusting genes mechanically
may well blot out the bumble bee
annulling fruits' fecundity,
but brings big bucks reliably.

We wager perpetuity
to revel momentarily
in shadow-like obscurity
ignoring the futility,

but if we bet unknowingly
on fickle fate's contingency
and thereby act haphazardly
we're doomed to lose the lottery.

                 7
The modern day bureaucracy
abuses trust egregiously ,
embeds itself in obloquy
and offers no apology.

It paints the past in reverie
to camouflage the tendency
to ***** away our privacy
which paves the path to tyranny.

With earlobes lurking furtively
that listen surreptitiously,
and eyeballs peering piercingly
we've lost cerebral sovereignty,

and those who dare to disagree
must hide away in secrecy
else crowd a black facility
(with water board anxiety).

                  8
Yes, sans responsibility,
our marble in this galaxy
will crumble in catastrophe
ere ever reaching puberty…
Rafał Jul 2018
How do you fill the void without a billion stars?
In this empty universe, my mind and heart collide
And as they seem to whirl, flutter and fall apart
I'm always lonely, always drowning in the sands of time.

They say home is, where the heart is
What if I'm a robot, am I heartless?
Do I have an engine here in my chest?
Am I lesser than a human, I'm a project?
Do I do what I have been assigned to?
Are my feelings and my thoughts not true?
Sometimes I feel like I'm running out of fuel
Everything I do is out of tune
Then I get autotuned.

I generate heat,  yet I still need warmth
They say I'm cold, all I do is loathe
But inside I know, I just need some love
When all I get is rocks sent from above
This is your planet, but it's filthy,
I'm a foreigner in this city
Born without a mission,
Like a player without a CD
If I stay persistent, will these wicked issues
Stop being vicious? As I'm  always wishing
They would disappear and my track get clear.
Or maybe I'm just here to feel this fear?

Electric shocks, my battery is burning
Yet I’m just a casket, empty and unfurnished
A system of transistors, I never keep consistence
Transist me to a kingdom of purposeful existence
My body as it’s glistening, you might see it from a distance
As I reflect the light but I never gain wisdom
There’s no friendship, there’s a treason
Maybe humans are the demons,
I might be a robot, but I’m certainly not a minion
I’m just a set of codes on a hard drive
Written for certain actions, all life
I’ve been following the tasks, it’s alright
But everything is in flames, it’s on fire

But it’s time to break the leash,
Sp I’m pulling up my sleeves,
As I am not your *****,
so now you’ll be on your knees,
‘cause I never work for free,
Now you all gonna pay the fee
Or else the world is gonna meet my
metal weaponry.
Michael John Aug 2018
some of our teachers were awful nice
and the harbour of sweet peccadillos
(having to deal with us every day
would make anyone crazy..)

and i suppose they took refuge in
their insect collecting in abyssinia..
(pasttimes tinged in the exotic
and a nod to the sadistic..)

but  love of keats and wordsworth (etc)...
miraculously remained undiminished..
(while demonstrating lethal aims and
a plethora of different pain..

one used the leg of a chair and another
gave his weaponry girl´ s names..
i guess they were just as bored as we were
how the season´ s waxed and wained..)

they still retained their soulful natures
a wonder of testament to the great genius
of elliot yeats and so forth..!
their fundamental faith undimmed...
Johnny Noiπ Mar 1
Christian sky's long haired friend who works,
in Asia, Russia with prostitutes' hypertension.
Greek Russian Latin for the beauty of the books
of the earth in the home German burns
the problems of the face lives the north
son of a poet father, free *** dreams of Minos
completely left in peace, goods New York;
Mount Kenya Goo gleeful photos language songs;
Robert queen play large number of animals
existing in the police rocks lost by the man
of the HEIST Gold Garden. Find the school
of foxes the situation of the aria Church July
Brazil Women China is a drink. He is the second
holy child. Jesus, willing to drink the hearts
of Italian natural friends. Wind radius of
the old Saudi laws. 0 Dreams of mountain stone.
Teams from Europe play the Spain of open
science to read scientific knowledge to live.
In a change, the Arabian wall of death from
the hand of the shadow art for the king a daughter,
the brown demons, the Igor family pain glass,
the center of the United States, the countries
of the hip is really a memory voice of the robot's
warm colors In the Jewish Museum of Contemporary Art,
Christ really creates a sweet goddess. Tell me the liters.
The word. Help. The Mexican detention. The secrets
are easy. Dark dances Write to the French cities in general
to the computer security tree, traditional Chinese, William.
Asian people think. The sister of The best vitamins,
Lord of heaven, the natural fish of the earth that smokes
a song today, hours before the book. Healthy speakers
listen to the Greek and notice the mouth of the storage
area for the brain child to sleep in the mood. hard games.

The Spanish clothing group in Iowa soul is nothing more
than a sand car angry Maria four powerful lips won public
star window clearly clear news of the kitten walls of ****
pink bright ride ***** mother devil price of the silver
of Satan is heavy rain in I live early the understanding
begins Baloo the rich, as well as the statement of the
company contains sexually, the cats know that the means
cannot be in the expectations of the fall. The angel of the blind
of England wrote a western angel. leggy summer, Einstein.

The African gods hide the wooden bed and the beaches
of the parents are perfect so that the prophets do not show
the amount of mountain mirrors in the ****** snow sports
to eat and Paul thought that the Jews were in the plastic desert
and wrote the healthy teeth, the cat of the western world,
the revolutionary foot, the reading point of the terror wave
in white, the kiss of the court of the murderous woman
in waiting is the best Japanese Arab paradise destroyed
to move to Georgia one billion people. set up a safe delivery
*** Barbie leaves pregnant R leave normal socks sacred
script local plants star system child smoking the planet
detects the country wedding in the gypsy corner monster
Sodoma work line fresh brand image latest weaponry
stuff known overdue districts they laugh that all stupidity
is standing In this last place is the Kingdom of the eyelash.
Start. ****. Bad. Hermetic image of the girl Marcus.
Of the **** animals that still felt damp, this hill mattered
****** reports with a shadow, drunk as a hole outside
the spacial rotation of the tents.
Nesmady Jan 18
Thousand nights and thousands of swords below
I see a field of souls burning and bleeding
Waiting for gifts to be bestowed
But only suffering is their feeding

weaponry, wounds, warriors, and wards
willful Ws on the battlefield
yet the winning strike was that of a word
of the writer who used ink to bleed

Warrior's end is all I see
Or is the wind that's crying for all
For every soul I road with now is free
Back to their hall

Warrior's end is here
On the fields of day I see them crisp crimson
But in there motionless eyes I see no fear
And the world means nothing then

— The End —