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11 entries this month
The Tale Of Liberty
22:18 May 30 2012
Times Read: 453
A thousand hitch fold nights in the open yonder,
a darkness draped in trees. A fountain looms the center,
it's grace a face of fear. Sparkled mist of Licha, swirling the wormhole puddle; naught a sound beset by chirping, but by pledging and we set the stage for the scenario to unfold.
Graceful, fair liberty. A species of rare mammal, tails aflame.
It's tall, lucid body, statuesque in it's beauty. A swirl of licha, monarchs and wasps encircle, in awe, praise and respect, it's wonder; like a dream to ponder at it's wake, the deep set darkness eats it's cake.
Sapphire jewels, it's eyes. The emerald shade that is it's hide. Luminescent, proud; Liberty continues to graze, unbeknownst to all around. Starlight casts it's highlight, the moon has gone to sleep, and in the darkest wretches of the wilderness, the swarm of insects sense retreat.
That which is free is also fragile, a fact held true from days of old.
Those who who do not defend their freedom, see it vanish before it's known. And thus the scenario takes hold, that the protagonist of freedom is in dire peril. Will freedom escape to inspire or perish in the fire? Let us grasp our breaths.
In the shadows, they are not alone. Nor liberty nor swarm, for other creatures wander nocturne fore the morn. One such creature is the flag. A flat rectangular beast, a flounder, almost slithering the ground, where all who idle sense retreat. It suffocates small rodents with it's hide. Slithering the worn path, leaving a trail of slime.
In the shade, it's colors replicate. Camouflage in the brush, and it silently stalks it's prey without delay. A beacon shining in the depth. A emerald glisten in the dark wood ends. A beacon that could be seen from the sky, grazing the ferns with torch held high. A free spirit among despair, and the flag at last has found it's dinner.
The flag, slithers it's flat tremendous girth, flattening the vegetation as the stems give way. Always eying the beacon at the edge of the brush. Small creatures scatter in it's wake as it passes. Sharpening it's fangs against the soil as it slithers.
Silent as a shadow, a bringer of sorrow; the angel of fear;
the flag draws near.
Liberty grazes. Pristine, an infant serine. Pure in it's love and honesty. Sapphire eyes, dazed and sleepy. Liberty nudges the grass playfully and displays joy in it's features. Liberty saunters to the nearest salt lick, lazily. Unaware of what's around it,
...and begins to lick it's fill.
...Will the flag, strike? Will Liberty get away?
What will become of this age old struggle?
You must all be wondering.
Honestly, I do not know. Because the livestream guy was arrested.
Epiom Of Truth21:10 May 27 2012
Times Read: 459
...And then the shedding of the realism's dream,
it's loose follicles scattered loosely abroad;
we travelers leave a little piece behind,
skin, eye lash, dream;
...it is the memory that survives.
It is cast drifting in wind, your particles;
kissing your passerby, your followers,
we share ourselves with all who dwell,
those who hate, only hate themselves.
The Temporal Wound Of Crimson04:06 May 27 2012
Times Read: 466
O' the dreams that fade,
I woke another day
...and no clot amidst the bleeding time.
Severe is the wound the wall clocks wind.
A chronological spill o' crimson tempest,
seeping from my mind.
A gouging wound deep within the recesses of me.
...And with each passing hour, I bleed more and more freely.
Bleeding away my dreams.
A dry husk of a human being,
a grain of sand;
in the hour glass of eternity,
the wrist of caitiff destiny,
my vein of temporal strand is slit;
...I'm shedding time, I don't exist.
The True Species Of Murder
20:56 May 22 2012
Times Read: 478
The ide of sapphire in the underworld and glistening gems adrift,
where sparkles in the murky deep give essence to the river styx
...and the boatman flounders 'pon the moonlight tide forever.
Caress me traveler, I'll purr. My demeanor belies my gentle nature.
Long considered, a cannibal;
feared as the rapture,
the grace of fear.
A swimming butchery, an air of nightmare.
...But I mean no harm, just don't wiggle your arm.
Embrace me, caress me, I'll purr;
life's circle, and the sphere will orbit dream's domain in ether.
Here lies a dream, of canvas and water color,
pristine wilderness untamed, grows untethered
...and each painted stroke reveals an artwork unmatched.
Caress me, I'll purr;
I'm no kitten,
...But if you embrace me, I'll sing for you;
a song of love and innocence
so you'll understand the folly of your ways.
...And then you'll see the mirror,
reflecting the true species of murder.
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Image prompt: http://52filmsin52weeks.files.wordpress.com/2011/12/sharkwater.jpg
For all the sharks. Your so misunderstood.
...But it's no justification to what the humans do to you.
Shark finning. It's cruel and sadistic.
No creature on earth deserves it.
What Are Terrorists?
23:48 May 21 2012
Times Read: 485
Terrorists are old and grey,
they meet in board rooms during the day
...deciding who lives and dies.
Terrorists own land,
take land
...and sell land.
They buy and sell lives,
they debate/discuss how to ruin the skies
...and spy.
Terrorists own banks,
they bankrupt whole countries
...and divide the flanks.
They gamble other people's money away.
...But that's okay
because no one will know,
they own the media, they run the show.
...And what better way to sell fear to the masses,
then the word it defines.
Terror means fear and that's why it rhymes.
Bullies With A Badge
20:22 May 21 2012
Times Read: 489
Bleed your heart in the streets of justice,
bleed your heart for here we come,
we're the bullies with a badge
...and we'll catch them coloreds (and then some)
Justice is what we decide,
there be no vagrant which can hide,
our day won't end lest blood will fly
...and then our badge sleeps happy.
Bleed your heart in the streets of justice,
broken arms and broken toes.
We're the bullies with a badge
...and what we say, goes.
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Whether this poem is good or not. A lot of anger went into this.
The Greatest Mother20:29 May 13 2012
Times Read: 499
Orb o' eons,
mother mine,
how; pray tell
no mothers day
has noticed thou.
Thine arms cradle ure every day,
your touch, we feel December-May;
you shelter us, feed us and love us,
...even when we hearm ye.
Our Earth!
Isolated eart we,
no other planet accepts us but thee,
the one we take for granted,
daily, monthly and yearly.
Our Earth!
Where be we, without your sky?
The soil, the water, the lyft of thy?
We be small and frail,
...adrift in naht and without gravity.
Our Earth!
Thou be ure everything.
Happy mother's day!
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Note: These aren't spelling errors. I used mostly older archaic english words and even older archaic Gaelic words.
Depression In The Rain Volume 103:01 May 13 2012
Times Read: 516
I dream evocative dreams in the rain, and one day I'll throw away my umbrella.
Challenge the lightening to strike me down, I'm near a tree, hear me clouds, I'm throwing away my umbrella.
Frolicking in the glistening nectar, whistling, and a hissing to the clouds now that I've thrown away my umbrella.
All that's left is to hold up this iron pole.
How Many Mothers Died Today?03:03 May 12 2012
Times Read: 524
How many mothers died today,
so you could sell a card?
How many?
How many starved?
How many died of cancer
which could have been resolved?
How many?
How many mothers work three jobs?
...And their children still starve.
How many of those mothers work in sweat shops?
Sewing your t-shirt so you can jog.
How many?
How many of those mothers sewed that suit,
which makes you think your god.
Those mothers that are underpaid,
but you got your ego boost today.
How many mothers died of rape?
How many?
Is there a card for rape?
Is there a card for hunger?
"May I have another meal please mother?"
"No son, we don't have enough."
"Off to bed and that's enough."
Will there be a card like that?
A card that's ever made,
that'll comfort children at their mother's grave?
she worked herself to death for them.
How many mothers will die of exhaustion?
How many?
Is there a card for domestic violence?
"Get back in the kitchen or I'll beat your ass!"
"I'm exhausted, I need some rest."
"You can relax when I beat you dead!"
Is there a card for the kids who hear that?
Is there a card for homelessness?
"Can I please have a bite to eat,
my children are hungry."
"Please don't ignore me."
Is there a card like that?
On this day we celebrate,
which Anne Jarvis tried to terminate,
when she realized that it's message
had been hijacked by some corporate thieves.
How many mothers must die?
Before people realize,
that we can't take a year off
on helping women.
A card won't change a thing.
If you want to celebrate your mothers,
create a better world for them to be living in.
Happy Mother's Day.
Sing Me Lullaby A Waking World
00:50 May 08 2012
Times Read: 530
Sing me lullaby a dream,
and wake this nightmare off o' me.
I do not take it all too well.
It's o' dream where justice sleeps,
...and maniacs with guns roam free;
allowed to shoot any passerby they wish,
I do not take it all too well.
It's o' dream with hearts o' hate,
plagues o' murder, theft and rape
...and the police are all a part of it.
I do not take it all too well.
It's o' dream where war and profit are the same,
just one gigantic crooked game
...and death is romanticized at every turn.
I do not take it all too well.
It's o' dream where once your born,
your labeled a slave and nothing more.
Never allowed to be;
to speak, roam and achieve freely.
...And everyone and everything,
waddles around squawking jobs
like there's nothing else worth doing.
It's o' dream where the reason to live is to get a job
...and I do not take it all too well.
In reality, jobs ain't real.
...And not being able to live my life
under my own willpower,
freely navigating the open air,
is a nightmare.
...And I don't want to dream no more.
Sing me lullaby a dream
...and wake this nightmare off o' me.
The Bill Is Mightier Then The Sword00:22 May 08 2012
Times Read: 532
The bill is mightier then the sword,
it's force wherein transcends the storm
and nothing natural can defend
against it's influence.
The bill is cancerous to the touch,
a virus devoid of mucus, (much)
...and all attempts to inoculate it failed.
The bill is mightier then the sword,
...no weapon shields you from it's storm.
Pestilence artifice' norm
...and famine's soon to follow.
No volcanic eruption, plague or war
has extinguished more,
...then the almighty bill.
No war would start without one.
The bill is the strongest poison ever found,
born from death and death abound,
...but it's weakened over time;
...maybe we'll destroy it, this time 'round.
...I'm just guessing though.
Because it's army of mental patients still roam free.
~*I think this poem sucks.*
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