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Astonishing Panaroma And Apacolyptic Politics In Forbidden Times

Mellowing within the gloom of intermal solitudes







The melonchaly individual poses among the multitudes







His desolated spirit sprouts abundantly lethargic within social trenches







The complaining cries savors Gothdom's ecstatic bliss in bountiful stenches







Our temporary enthrallment enrages a soul crisis







In accordance to what affect that puff entices







Upon alludence to what an altered state visualizes







Emphatically arrayed sensation blooms







As he achingly covets those imaginary shrooms







His former invokation perishes







In mere consumption of what his structure cherishes







Benevolence and stability orgasmically fade away







Normality's zombies quiver from immortal sleigh







Appeas those scowering eyes with virgin wrists







A fraction of a slit arises a clouded mist







Illusion blemish. Harmony finish







Beautitudes of fantasy foam adrift







Scourges of reality resume her suicidal sift.















Apparently, while being under the influence of drugs, and whatever else I may have taken on Friday and Saturday, I wrote this poem. It is ironic, when it makes partial sence, when reading it soberly, yet perfect sence, when your mind has altered due to the substance. Yet, you have to be sober to complete it's meaning. It refers to engaging into chemical ecstasy, during the foils of life, and how that chemical does harm to you, when you believe that it is helping you. In simplicity, you are erasing your existence the fun way. Worthy of mention, is a camera that I destroyed last night, in the midst of yet another endless mental, and somewhat physical fight among my family. I am imprizoned, not at home in these shackles. Home is where you are not threatened to be thrown out every day. Yet, they insist that you consider and refer to it asa your home.. My mindless sister speaks with a nigger's forked tongue, and a slanderous ego made of bologna. Resume your threats that you cannot activate, yet play the victim as the worms succomb up your feeble words. Why is it the finite in life that aggrevates the individual the most. We can reside in our most abominable transgressions shamelessly, yet the cuts in life bring us eternal supertstitions and heart aches. The camera thrashed, was photographed ovewr weeks, of veryworthy poses of of art among my friends and I. Yet after taking a picture of a plastic gun, sarcastically in my nephews mouth, after seeing me pose with it, it was fitting to destroy it, to keep from punishment of the lame. With all of the lustful interactions, and the drug influence taken by this camera, a plasic gun with a feeble game of darts would bring the most controversy, fear, and hysteria among the masses. As if it is McCarthyism, Salem, or perceived terrorism in every mosque. The lame mind and virgin eyes cannot comprehend childish sarcasm, as the the religious fenatics are to quiver in thier blanket of demonism, as they condemn and hide from the superstition of tarot and ouiji. No wonder why the infant has a blade in his back, a preacher, with an atom bomb in his throat, and a future writer with a rambeling desease. lol Salem's lot lays dormant for my walking, yet the entanglement of the ropes, bare witness to society's plaguing deception.