"wickedness" poems
We cannot write silence.
The beats.
The pause.
The breath.
The way it aches
and persists
and begs that,
if only for a moment,
our consciousness is only a whisper.
our bodies,
our lips,
the air that passes through falling chests
and stillness.
A melody of emotion.
Sleeping in the quiet of a heartbeat skipped
a word lost to the wind.
The wickedness of reticence
Encapsulated in air and time.
The moment stretched too long.
Hesitation perpetuated in the grip of fingernails
pressed into palms.
We cannot write silence,
but we can try.
to find a way to immortalize emotion
to create space
in the ceaseless drone of words that speak and spin.
I cannot write silence. But I can write
tears and years
and the burn of long-stretched lies.
I can write goodbyes and hellos
And dozen ways to say
I love to hate you
Or
I hate to love you
and sometimes
I cannot tell the difference.
Silence.
The space I have upheld for myself.
I love to hate you
Heart.
I hate to love you too.
I cannot write silence.
But I know it.
and I have held it in my hand.
May 22, 2018
May 22, 2018 at 10:50 AM UTC
We conquer all worlds,
Sweet creature: melt my soul,
freshly thawed, vulnerability exposed.
Eager for unbridled wickedness,
within lilting rhythms of your magic.
So inviting, such interwoven seduction,
I discover that you are indeed, She.
The Mistress who cannot be denied,
so take my hand, I shall guide you,
while you, Dark sweet demigod,
Guide me to intoxicating magic,
magic that is you: and you alone.
Pour your evil charms upon me,
Stoke dying embers of my neglected power.
See the flames rekindled;
feel the comforting ice of my being,
savour my destructive cold fire.
Let me soothe you in return,
offering delicious despicable deeds.
Havoc wrought in your name.
The demonic glow inside grows,
until I fear nothing, Dark Mistress.
I am exalted in this vile inferno,
A conflagration of our own creation.
Dark destiny shall not desert us,
but shall become the favoured guide.
I shall never be without you,
Dark Mistress, and together,
We conquer all worlds.
© Paul Chafer 2014
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
Lord, I need some devine redemption
Because I move like a heathen through the night
Depart some solemn words of wisdom
Deliver your blessed sacred rite
My god your wrath is so sweet
I am consumed by it's salvation
Let me offer myself to you
And save myself from your damnation
My wickedness will have me burned
I make a covenant to you from this day forth
Enter me and make me clean
Fill me with your righteous seed
Command me down on my knees
I'm praying with my mouth to please
I offer myself as your possession
To use whenever at your discretion
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 5:55 PM UTC
she is
a very naughty girl
she never follows
policy to the letter
she always
does the wrong thing
she needs some discipline
she's proficient
at defying the law
she knows not how
to get the message
she doesn't
listen intently enough
she fills many charge sheets
with her misconduct
she is a girl
with a streak of wickedness
she has all the hallmarks
of someone who is naughty
I speak of Ursula
in the above list of bad deeds
and there is a hope
that her bad deeds
can be quickly remedied
the hand of an authority figure
will bring her back into line
as she has too often
strayed from that line
whence appropriate corrections
are implemented
all her behavioral problems
shall be circumvented
then and only then
a change will eventuate
and she'll no longer
be showing her bad traits
really naughty girls
such as Ursula
can become more like
a pleasant seaside peninsula
watching her radical transformation
shall be a sight to see
so we'll keep our eyes focused
on what Ursula shall soon be
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
It's always been you!
If only you realized how much you mean to me,
Not a moment goes by when I don't stop to think about you,
Your peculiarity alone can do that,
And, that's always been you!
What makes you so special?
In layman terms,
You are my greatest strength
And, my greatest weakness.
The serenity in your halcyon heart,
The charisma of your captivating eyes,
The elegance in your illustrious smile,
The tenderness of your seductive lips,
The spark in your gentle touch,
The gracefulness of your alluring neck,
The radiance in your dazzling lustrous hair,
The lure of your hypnotizing heaving *****
The haven in your scintillating navel,
The holiness of your ravishing waist,
The sanctity of your fascinating hips,
The wickedness in your mesmerising curves,
For my hopes lie on,
The gateway to your heart,
That is now open,
Through the divine pathway in your sacred forest,
Filled with untold and concealed secrets,
And, mysteries unknown to man,
For I hope to touch, nurture and caress,
Every deep wall in you,
For you are the prayer to my appetite,
And, the incarnation of my desires,
It is now that I get the privilege of being a being,
To realize,
You complete me!
You are desire,
You are passion,
The inspiration for wanting more in life,
The personification of loving life itself.
The paragon of my eroticism,
And, not an end will there be,
For my ***** crave,
To be destroyed,
By the ****** dynamite you are.
An eternal pleasure in sensual misery you are,
And, a heaven in my hell,
The zenith of all climaxes,
And, the paradigm for my resurrection.
The yearning for the man in me,
You are!
Aug 9, 2018
Aug 9, 2018 at 6:07 PM UTC
How can my eyes hunger for tormentors bodies
where in my soul can I find desires for sadists
Eves threw on fitted coats of Marquis de Sade
borrowed his manuals and added even more pages
pierced the heart of a Dove defending his nest with lethal pins
And in joyous indignities with devilment aplomp
they reclined and crackled in wanton doltishness
He thinks of and desires us and wants to make amor with us
How can a heart marinated in love truely sincere
a soul ready to die rather than any harm to Eves
Be mother or sister or perchance even a stranger
alas in utter ********** and grotesque situation dire
Come undone with healthy pristine heart ripped to pieces
hung drawn and quartered and sliced in tiny morsels
Like fish baits for mice and minnows or hens clucking
All at the hands of Sirens who worshipped in Satan's cravens
How can a soul with only the spark of Salvation aglow
where it once housed his heart and enduring humanity
With brimful joy and devotions in fitting measures true
as all Eves where to him nowt but sisters and earth angels
Now his burning blood runs cold like rivelets in the Arctic
their words ring hollow and smiles shows rapiers of snakes
Nothing stirs desires for all Eves now seem and look like wicked corpses
Delilahs' wrecking vengeance on Samsons in wickedness supreme
[email protected] rights reserved
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 4:31 AM UTC
If I can't stand and say something
About injustice, hunger and poverty,
I can at least do one special thing,
I can write a very beautiful poetry.
If I can't fight modern-day slavery,
I can write and bring awareness.
My pen is like a mighty artillery
That can help stop this wickedness.
If my frame is short for me to be seen,
My mind is loud enough to be heard.
It can take me places I've never been
And give me a shelter and my bread.
If I don't have fine clothes and jewelry,
I have deep wisdom and intelligence.
That enables me to write good poetry
Capable of taking me out of decadence.
If I don't have fine cars and houses,
I have from Jah a blessed assurance.
And peace inaccessible by noises,
So I say thanks for life and Providence.
©IvanBrooksPoetry
22/8/2018
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 11:47 PM UTC
Barack Obama
Is a fork tongued devil
Who supports abortions
And homosexual marriage
The Lord said
His hand of judgement will come
Against the U.S.
The first devastation will hit
There will be another right on its heels
A series of devastating events
Look to the skies---- (nuke)
Look to the seas---(tsunami)
Look to the earth---(earthquake)
People being killed with guns
Marshall Law
The United States will fall
Because of its wickedness
The U.S. will decrease
And Israel will increase
It will happen
These things will happen before
His return
The sword will be the nuclear war
Drought from no rains
Pestilence new strain of disease
5 year war
Then famine
Fill up storehouses
Landscape of America will change
Waterways will become poisonous
Sun will emit flashes of radiation
His hand is on the weather
(Hand of the Lord)
Ocean will come as far as the Rockies
Geological plates will shift
Russians will attack infrastructure
Of the nation
A nation of lies
Darkness will overcome
A deep darkness will cover
The people
Because they love the lies
The Lord said to her,
"Do not despair my children
Out of the darkness
Comes the glorious light."
There will be
Cities of refuge
For those who know Him
Intimately
There will be a city of refuge
Stay close and He will instruct you
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 9:03 PM UTC
Every battle of a warrior
is riddled with confused
noise!
The garment of a warrior
is rolled in blood!
When the bricks are falling
down, a warrior builds
with hewn trees
When the sycamore are cut
down, a warrior replaces
them with cedar
In the lifting of the smoke he
burns down wickedness
and its fire with stout heart
Certain in certainty, the trees
in the wood bow to the
warring winds in the battle of a
warrior!
Warrior sings upfront in
victory and for victory,
standing determined on
the mountain of courage
and faith, dutifully
worshipping on the altar
of fearlessness and glory.
Mar 1, 2019
Mar 1, 2019 at 4:27 AM UTC
Gather your arms
Your strength, your courage
The foe before you comes charging through
Pray tell, who dares to breach this wall
Built with sweat, and tears, determination
Shall no one try nor succeed to break
Integrity, honor and for all at stake
Lessons learned from painful past
of enemies who destroy en masse
There once was one who gave full trust
that those around them were of same heart
How quickly vanished the innocence
of what we're born, this purity
Now stained with blood, with wickedness
I take no more and give no less
No more, I say..no more I allow
I will not break, nor will I bow
Stand strong, here comes the hostile band
of haters and liars that we must withstand
But wait, I see a flag of surrender?
Shall he not break me forth asunder?
No fool am I, tis only a ruse
To trick and betray as the **** ensues
You will not win, not over me
That point will come when you will see
I am stronger than you....because of you
My time has come to win this war
For that is what life has become
A battle for whom the strongest will win
Not by brute strength, but by character within
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 1:31 PM UTC
A SOCIETY WRITTEN IN FLAMES; SHROUDED IN DARKNESS
*The tears flows in an endless way
Bemoaning the days of yore
Watching with eyes that sparks red,
Sunken and beaten from the tragedies of yore
Helpless and wishing for a relentless call
As tragedy hits her most sensitive part,
Bemoaning the tides,
All her days of glory,
Now a shadowy story*
*She had been ***** by her very own,
The children she yearned and bled for,
The men she fed and trained,
Where her rain fell full and vast, to soothe their hearts
Where she gave it all, and smiled, hoping that someday, they will realize her sacrifices and sleepless nights,
Her nights of terror and horrors
Where she stood in the midst of the stormy eerie night, shrouded in darkness*
*It was her ******* they ****** and clunged to,
It was her arms that shielded them from the shadows of the dark,
But when they grew and flew,
She waited still
Praying and wishing they would remember the days of yore*
*Then the dark hour rolled away,
And when morning came, it was harrowing.
It was harrowing how she waited abandoned and dejected,
As her sons and daughters peaked at the sky,
Trampling her down,
Relegating and belittling her
Painful it were, as she cried from the agonies of the days of yore,
Where she laid all her virtues down,
Giving it all to see her children smile,*
*It is this dejection that has brought her to tears,
It is this wickedness of a child to a mother, that has made her weep endlessly
It is this tragedy that have swallowed her glory,
As her children keeps flying above huddles, in peace and harmony,
Forgetting her,
It is this callousness, that pushed them to sapping her virtues and enriching themselves with it thereon*
*What is worse than a child abandoning his mother?
It is this penchant, that drives them
It is the love of greed,
It is the seed of corruption,
It is not an inherited trait,
It is a despicable decision
Like a monstrous shadow,
Twirling the back of the night.
It is the fire that burns within their heart,
The fire to **** steal and destroy
To take what she can never give again
To live,
To live big at the expenses of others sorrow and agony
It is this evil that has perused Nigeria and has rendered her a roaming wretch
And now tragedy looms,
It booms and blooms,*
A society written in flames
Who will save MOTHER NIGERIA?
Ovi Odiete© 2016, Oct. 31
All rights reserved
Note
Children here signifies the evil politicians and men that has sapped our country dry with their evil penchant
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
Universal entropy,
masking it’s plan
Perceivable good and
evil, much more than so
A light waiting to be shone
beyond which we can ever comprehend
Camouflaged, patient;
wickedness one day proving itself
God’s rippling gift
And yet, the present seems bleak,
The great unknown rests
behind a curtain,
even to you
Keeping us suspended
above countless destinies below,
those realities flickering like traffic from
a private city rooftop
Our actions,
for an audience we are unaware exist
So not for naught,
do indulgences befall
Some good can come of our mistakes,
even if it's to faces we'll never know
Mar 15, 2019
Mar 15, 2019 at 11:06 AM UTC
...
***I've got a few visitors tonight;
they're all associated with the wolf under my eyes***
I.
*I've left loneliness to starve on a stone table,
while jealousy can bleed me a lake;
fear and I are equals,
on the battlefield of fate.*
"Pay no mind to the rebel."
II.
*Forked tongues recite wickedness; of all
the shadows gaining power as the sun was slain.
Black flames banish all that is golden,
as darkness bent my silent skeleton;
but it didn't break.*
"I'm just some sin you committed...right?"
III.
*A basilisk waited for me at my chambers,
it requested a lullaby, and a glass of iron wine.
Who knew poison would be my new best friend?
Who knew my company would be kept by
an oracle of silver'tongue?
Dead languages clutched my
lively secrets.*
"Every wolf gets tired of the moon at some point."
IV.
*And just like that;
We were splintering at your wolfsong
auburn poems at the feet of trees
waist deep in misery you sat,
head crowned in autumn's diseases.
Witnessing you tilt your head to plant a kiss
on the night's wings;*
***"Oh, it's ******* agony."***
*Watching your eyes harvest hurricanes
love sinking in tongues
of ebony sorrow.
they don't belong to me
you don't belong to me.*
***"I suppose I can't change the world
but I will leave it colder."***
V.
*And sometimes, love is just the aftermath
of a tragedy.*
...
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 6:27 PM UTC
It's like this, and then there was total recall. Fast like a safety plan made wrong and then bouncing in and out all the way down the hall. Up through cable cars, Korean fast food market, wet fish, soupy street, concrete cracks filled with crab meat and **** heads. Just a square, a five block, two street, sideways quadrangle, beat of the Tenderloin, hour of the dove. Every one's dead on these loose ends. Hills of the back of her backside, skin of the back of her neck. Rapture is the grave of the sunset, memory is that thing that I said.
No one cans in carnivores, no one runs moves like a shepherd. Sunday, daft as candy, luck in the ways of the prophet. Canon of the blaze of every woman that died today. The sleep setting, the motorcycle bending the hollow, the ravines noisy interlude, up through the rough and the tangles, huddles in a six pack, three or four walking up the block to meet the rest of them.
The skin doesn't fit right, it wears wrong, the shoulders stiff, the masseuse excuses himself. Buckets of flowers hang from the ceiling like stripped cat christmas decorations in suburban mastermind serial killer resort town. Everyone is quiet because they gotta. They move their feet like they were hurrying death into a red volcano, like they were the errand of red from the top bell to the bottom of the town.
I sit on a roof top, baking in the noon day sun. Stripping sticks and stems off the side to sideways, just roasting away, laying, low in the afternoon light. I see a girl with her hands on her skirt, wobbling, scooting a priest card on a periwinkle terra-cotta. I move my head, turn it upside round to take a better look. No one counts to ten when they see me. The gangster that woke up isn't the gangster that went to sleep last night. My wickedness ended my words mean your bright decay. So I ride the pavement exhausted, burying my coughs in an L-shaped arm
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:32 PM UTC
Many times ladies inquire about where are all the good men?
Well, before answering they must ask within.
What they do to their very own man?
For those that was good to you.
What did you do?
That he's no longer with you.
Some must admit.
They cheated.
They lied.
And they stole.
Which is part of the reason's they are alone.
But, where are all the good men?
They either marry.
Or not looking to go that route.
Which leads to many questioning their logic.
Some women play game.
Then put all the men at blame.
Some seek others.
When they have a good soul.
No good woman deserves to be alone.
Some say.
They hidden within jail.
Many of them living a fairytale.
Wondering still.
Where are all the good men?
But in truth.
They all have a little wickedness.
Many just afraid to face it.
When they confess it.
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 7:04 PM UTC
Fire, Fire, Babylon shall retire
Mind invasion shall expire
Them ghetto youth we shall inspire
Guide and protect them as them acquire…
A full overstanding of a materialization,
Conquering our souls' conception
Peace upon the mind opens doors to realization
That fi ah ghetto youth's materialism be them destruction.
Free your mind, pure thy soul and free thyness from hate
Babylon wickedness shall encounter its fate
Heavens are open for those who livicate
Them souls in vision to reach the holy gate.
Marihuana elevate I and I to be self-conscious
Jah people we forever righteous
Babylon can search and conquer, them never find us
Jah shall protect us from everything malicious.
Hail King Selassie for his pure wisdom
In holy Mount Zion shall we find our freedom
Jah do save us, Babylon is taking us at random
Rise Rasta rise, the system can never shut us down.
Pretty soon we shall all share the peace and joys
It’s all a matter of internal choice
Right up Mount Zion shall Babylon perish from our anointed voice
Oh yes Babylon...in heaven we shall all rejoice.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
Open your mind to wonder.
Don't close it with belief.
For the spell it puts you under makes it difficult to leave.
The road to self deception, paved with preconceived conception, makes an evolutionary blunder that much harder to believe.
But in the natural ways we suffer and the things we have achieved, I don't think we should be misplaced -- mistaking all things as perceived.
And the self-redeeming peace that lives in uttered pleas for buttered ease -- like praying for forgiveness for the feeling of appease.
Or kneeling-bound to beg facedown for children with a sickness.
(Although prayer doesn't prove to cure disease or wickedness, it seems.)
So if you ever get a chance to wander and start to see the world with wonder, don't let it slip into neglect.
Nor impose upon another what you chose when you were younger.
Don't abuse your self-respect.
Instead, just seek to be free
and find the wonder in-between.
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
Once upon a time...
You & I lived lives divided
Until by fate we were united
When we first lit the fire
Once upon a time
I would watch you from a distance
Desired you, but stayed resistant
To the Urges that would cloud my mind
with Wickedness, persistent
Your perfect fairy wings
Fluttered lightly in the wind
And though I did the best I could
My thoughts were wrought with sin
And I desired you like mad
For the Angel that I had
Left me burning despicably
With wretched flames within
And You
were so
Inviting.
Your Body
Ripe
for the Taking.
Guarded you were
Behind Gates of the Dragon
Yet I watched you intently
Plotting my Ransom
Waiting on the right moment to strike
To steal you away from your
Protected Life
And to take you back with me
Into my Cell
In the dark and abysmal cave where I dwell
To teach you the ways
Us Creatures gain pleasure
To make you my Slave
And to ransack your Treasures
And then came the day
That you broke away
From the Chains
That held you to where you were safe
I saw you
And watched you
and Stalked you
Intently
While you were out searching the world
Innocently
And then,
When you were finally in reach
And we were Alone
I snatched you away
from the flowers and reeds
And stole you back with me
into my home
A cold and depressing
Dungeon of Stone
Your protector was gone
And you were all mine
When we were alone
Lost somewhere in time
And to my shock, and utter surprise
You became the flame that lit up my eyes
And slowly but surely as days slipped by
I became yours more than you became mine
And then, you escaped
or did I let you get away?
You emerged from my cave
Beautiful, unscathed
I just couldn't bring myself
to be one you hate
When your love is so sweet
I just couldn't betray it
But then, I thought
of you out in the world
Alone
On your own
My sweet pixie girl
And I couldn't
JUST COULDN'T
Handle the thought
of a Monster like me
Dragging you through the mud
Coveting you
the way that I do
But most of All
Tasting your Love
Staying put was so much harder than
trying to be your Guardian
and Rescue you
and Shelter you
from any more Hate or Abuse
And now I see my sins
Led me out of the darkness within
Into the sunshine of your life -
Where I found the Source of Light
I needed to keep me alive
And I feel like I owe you my life
And now you're free from my Prison
but I guess, so am I, in essence
In the end, the Fairy
Showed the Goblin,
He longed to be a Prince.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 10:58 PM UTC
Okay, the only one has been hiding their racism were whites.
Trying to blend into society with others because employers require a get along attitude.
Go to a bank and instantly you know the hiring schemes.
And this any community.
Same, with certain restaurants you attend.
It's the blend that point the management comfortability out.
White flight, existed because the "fearful" can't adjust to a changing society.
History has shown this.
And they have created it.
Jim Crow's laws weren't created by blacks.
Asians placed in America concentration camps wasn't their idea.
And these were American citizens.
History presently has shown that the new "pick on" group is the Latin communities.
They MS13 or this or that.
Many white businesses must be enjoying their employment keeping them in business.
For in many big cities they building the complexes and hotels, and sidewalks.
History has shown when it comes to justice they the first to try to scheme out of their crimes.
But quick to holler about locking up criminals until it's them.
History has shown when investigating wickedness in government.
They lead the pack.
Then this is just an opinion.
And no way connected to alternative facts.
Aug 13, 2018
Aug 13, 2018 at 11:35 AM UTC
*I tease you to make things exciting.
I tease you so everything seems more relaxing.
I tease you to make you laugh.
I tease you when life's getting rough.
But sometimes,
I tease you to expose my wickedness.
I tease you to show my sweetness.
I tease you to get your attention.
I tease you to give words to my affection.
If I crossed the lines,
What will happen if I stop teasing you?
Should I just do tricks like peek-a-boo?*
Nov 12, 2015
Nov 12, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Night is but a word for the darkness that roams with men and the lands.
The song of the winds sparkling with a woman's tears unshed.
His blanket drapes her in the pitch of night.
A cure basks within the lady's eye.
Salt water.
The tears, made salty by the churning sea.
Cry the river dry.
Bewail until all is nigh.
The night is coming.
The darkness foretold.
Beware the madness
with a daggers fine edge.
Night may be just a word.
But the wickedness is true within man's might.
The sun will rise to cleanse the lands.
Daylight breaks and the word changes.
The faith of the worshipers dancing amongst the shining vivid rays.
The danger has passed.
Be still her fleeting heart.
But be wary,
dear maiden of mine.
For the darkness of the night will soon befall again.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 1:35 AM UTC
Blood is the color red.
Evil and fire.
Love and lust.
Rebirth and Jesus.
Danger and anger.
Blood is the color of red of war.
For many who have lost their lives.
And shed blood for freedom.
Blood represents death.
Blood is the color of red running through our veins.
Blood shows no prejudice
Regardless of our skin color
All blood is still the same.
Blood is the color of red cloth.
The killing in the suberbs.
Shows your race.
The slang of gangs.
Blood is the color of red in red wine.
Our grapes of wrath.
Fermenting and full bodied.
The smell of wickedness.
Blood is the color of red in our love and our passion.
Of St. Valentine.
Of our hearts and our mind.
Days of remembrances.
Blood is the color of red in " blood red lipstick".
Attracts us humans through love and lust.
Steals our innocence.
Robs our purity.
Blood is the color of red of Jesus Blood.
It keeps the body of Christ alive.
Brings cleansing to the soul.
Is the rebirth and resurrection.
Blood is a primary color.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
Grinding....
Leaving it silenced, drawn and quartered
Clawing for the scraps left over
Predicament I found myself in
Or, towards the end of it
Slipping from the edges
Forager focused on finding any way back home
Sidetracked by some apparition left crying
Alone, in the corner
Grinding...
Paused, with rain drops weighted, heavy sense in the air
I can feel my lips turning blue and
Twitching
It's more literal than I would dare dream in a waking nightmare
The smell of every molecule tantamount to another realm
Hangs motionless in the air
The stone transposed becomes a rooftop asylum, overlooking such uncouth misanthropic parcels, self absorbed in this grotesque imagery, a veritable wall of self hate puzzle pieces
Grinding...
Low, on an almost ominous note, still grows colder in my ears
Blowing on winds filled with the spite and righteous
Anti holy
Fully rupturing sound of far off laughter of the
New root
My lips still moving
No sound produced
And my mind
Grinding...
I still pray to god for you
Beset on all sides by the same wickedness
Still afflicted by myself
Argue for arguments sake
****** up on the uptake
I thought that you might want it
I guess I forgot all the subtle ways
The fires spring to life at night
Arguably the wrong choice is
Looking at him
I try not to
Catch that glimpse in his eye
Already my mind races
And my bones are shivering
At the thought alone
Brickwork backing
Still swells maggots
And filing paperwork
For entrapment habits
Grinding
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 4:56 PM UTC
In each and every moment, there is good and there is bad,
For in each moment, we can be happy or we can be sad.
Every day has it's dawn, every rose has it's thorn,
You never know quite what to expect from the moment we are born.
When things are going good, they're going great,
Never underestimate the cold hands of fate.
At any instant can a situation flip,
In each and everything we do, it is a lucky dip.
We can look back and see, how things were before,
Yet once again have things changed, now whose keeping score?
In a second things went from good to quite bad,
Lost in the moment, now nothing but sad.
I will always wonder whose fault I am to blame,
But, in the end, I and that person are all but the same.
We are, but the same person you see,
The wickedness in him, is the wickedness in me.
Never underestimate the cold hands of fate,
You never quite know if you'll be too late.
Don't take anything for granted,
Keep your feet firmly planted.
Never stop fighting for that which means most,
Forever and ever my dear friend...repost.
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 7:00 AM UTC
I'm not quite sure why I feel this way
Why in my bed, my legs feel tired
In my head, my heart feels numb
Why my lips feel dry without gin passing through them.
Chapped and sore, my patience like my lips thirsts
for a numbing draft of spirit to quench.
Spirit is exactly what I need
to instill charm into this hopeless mind.
If only charm poured as easily as gin
from the bottle so green with envy
and malice and wickedness.
Heavy, silver liquid within.
I hope I'm drunk
because if this is what sober is like,
I don't want to be sober -
Better pour myself another glass.
Onto the old slice of lime.
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC