2011: Best Mafia Performance (Individual) - Best Newcomer
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
eventually all your ideas repeat like bad food
vomit on your clothes and then on the clotheslines
we were sick with thought poisoning and hung ourselves from strings
so we could wear ourselves
wring me out and keep me closer
let me dry and water drip
off the edges of the garments
hung up strangled 'till the slip
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
I lost the thought and never recalled it back
My last ray of hope vanished in the dark
A maze of mists swirling in a mind so thin
to think his last resort was suicide and gore.
Children dancing the maypole dance
Wearing nooses around their necks
I know gallows are full of witches
Once and again there's a itch to scratch
And if your sanity is nowhere to be found
Remember the words clad in profanity
And the blood spilled when you were born
And the weird and winding road
Towards an end, all things must go.
Bring some blood to oil the gears
a little, until they become something recognizable again -
I would ask, were it not your arm in the wires,
Sacrificing knife between my lips to grisly work.
But there needs be blood, you know,
and I won’t tell; I will keep it in and close
and do the work myself
though I am dry…
And as the machine runs with no oil
I will mask the smoke with smokescreens,
I will clear the air with hot air and I will mask the rot of my regression with
Mint
Rosemary
Posies
Chamomile
Thyme
Vapors into dusty lungs,
Gag and blow the rust away
Give room for clarity which comes in coughs -
I live for these pneumoniac spasms.
- Miasmic, bloated with plague and cure alike
is your love.
Now look into pitted eyes,
Touch lips to raven’s maw
Bury fingers in black fabric and
learn them like my smile that tells you that
everything will be all right
Because I will not let it out;
This body is a temple ending in wingtips
Black, gothic facade, dignified and house of God
Contagion zepelid swelling in places all all-wrong -
Clocktower scaffold bathed in quieting blood
Pleas
Let there be blood to quiet the gears,
Embalming incense to soften cookie-cutter fears,
bronzed and cast as cogs.
Silence these squeals
That would finally tell the truth to you:
That this is not
A tower or resting place
A hall for mending broken hearts or
place of sanctuary -
I am not Machseh and
I make not a marriage bed or build a shrine toward God
The screams that would betray, glancing through clocks and cables rigged
That beneath everything you love, my love,
Is a Machine for Pigs.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"Bitterness is a paralytic. Love is a far more vicious motivator." - Sherlock
1-
this is day 1 of the beginning of the end of the rest of my life
decision one and a foot forward
and maybe i will start to progress
there are things.
people don't understand
that when i don't talk i am still saying things
i wish people could read my mind and do what i wanted them to do
and love me
and maybe i will start to love myself
2-
this isn't day two not really but it is the second day of the beginning of the etc. etc. you are already bored of reading that
in the real day two i did nothing
but eventually i went crazy
these things tend to take time
and i walked into the street outside my house and closed my eyes
and there was a screech and people started honking at me with their cars
and I started to tremble but nobody wanted to touch me
and on some deep level I was disappointed
why would the cars come to a stop instead of running over me
don't people want to get to work?
it took fifteen minutes for a police car to get to the situation
and they put me in the backseat
and drove away
there were two of them.
the officer was actually really nice.
he tried to give me some coffee
and i took it even though it tastes like dried poop because it's hot
and we had a conversation about something
and it went like this kinda
"why were you standing in the street"
well that's a good place to stand when you want to get hit by cars i thought
"well you shouldn't try to get hit by cars, it's bad for you"
no like you don't understand that's all i need and then i won't have to care anymore
"think of all the people you stopped from getting to work on time today"
well they would have gotten to work on time if they'd hit me look i could have ruined the
finish of their cars but they can just think of it as rust
cars cost a lot to drive anyways
if you can't afford some rust you should sell your car
"we'll get you some help."
i'm guessing that doesn't mean you're going to hit me with a car"
"no"
then i was silent but **** it i guess there were things
and mental analyses
and apparently i am sane or something
that's always what they want you to think
3-
this is day 3 of zzz
people keep stopping me from making it the last day of zzz
i'm starting to feel they think they have some sort of stake in it when they really don't
people just generally don't seem to understand the way it feels
the way everything feels
i told my sister secrets and she spit them stupid at the ground
spit them out and forgot them
and asked me why i felt so bad the next time she was here again even though
I ALREADY TOLD HER
people only listen to themselves
and my problem is i listen to everybody else
or my problem is
i don't listen to myself enough
and when i do i am incomprehensible
a stream of babbling nonsense hot messes
4-
fourth time is the charm i think that's how it goes
this is the end of the beginning of the **** it this is never going to work
i agreed with my 'appointed therapist' that i should put the mask back on that lets me look at society without everyone else looking at me
because i get so sad
when everybody else looks at me
but i need them to do it anyways
and i wanted to be happy but it's more important i guess that everyone else is
maybe if i'm wearing a normal mask
i can keep the stares short
cut down the amount of time remaining in the hourglass
sand moves so slowly
i stare at the movement of the grains
and i will not cry
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
He wanted the sky to be his own
Wanted the wings to soar high
A crystal dream as soft as a feather
Hovering over the water
Piercing the highest cirrus
And the winter winds to portrait his reverie
Through the horizon
He flies to the night
Every dream in every flight.
White Willow, White Willow
Covered in snow
Do your branches stir when you feel the wind blow?
White Willow, White Willow
The passage of time
Aging ever-stronger with the curves of the vines
White Willow, White Willow
What's going on in your head?
White Widow, White Widow
Your husband is dead.
2011: Best Mafia Performance (Individual) - Best Newcomer
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
The widow isn't the only thing white, nor the only thing sticky.
You can inhale both, if you'd like;
the first will cost you five, the third will cost you sixty.
I can make a sandwich, but all I've got is turkey.
Roast beef is my favorite, the lean cuts.
Above average amount of vinaigrette.
I brought the woman with the dead husband, you bring the bread and dark meat.
Deal.
Come with me, or don't.
I shrug.
Outbliss me, you won't
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Official Moderator of The [Gutter]
Think the MtgStaff is just swell? Join today! You too can be involved in an 8 year grudge and delete nearly 9000 of kpaca's posts!
Like a lion in the snow;
Like a kite in the rain;
Like a gently hanging bough
Drizzling shade across the plains;
Your strength is your sin is
Your pride
As a mountain at dawn
As a cloud at noon
As pollution at midnight
Your beauty is what you hide
Is what you deny
Is the light
Is my hope
Thoughts drowned by the time that has passed
Until now; Hereby I end their stagnation
By letting them flow
And not counting them back
In all these years I was nothing but part of the block
Thinning memories, throwing away solutions
Ideas that could make me moist with fever
By promising that I would never
Dam the river again.
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Violent thoughts inside of me
Fists clenching as a rage brews
Heightened awareness, I can't lose
A trip underground is in the near future
My animalistic nature is bringing out the truth
stronger
faster
quicker
The hate in my pupils starts to flicker
I let go of my peace
Wrath will forth come today,
Beg for mercy if you please
Edit: Lame, I tried the whole spacing it different thing, when you post it just reverts.
There’s no comfort
In knowing there’s no comfort
And it’s no wonder
We’re sowing no wonders
Just plow it all under
Our land is so sundered
Grows only more hunger
More pain and more suffer
Many fighters but few lovers
Many babies but few mothers
In a world like no other
Now I’m no hero
In pointing out there’s no heroes
The sky is no safer
There are no talking snakes
Lightning has no maker
A missing rib with no taker
Playing roulette with no stakes
In a car with no brakes
Headlong into the lake
Shackled to such weight
Angel’s always too late
To save us from our fate
Our heaven has no gates
The dirt spares no name
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Thanks to Xenphire @ Inkfox for the amazing new sig
“Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments
are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”
― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Masks.
Every person wears one
A mask for silence
A mask for wrath
A mask for anguish
A mask for self-pity
Masks for joy, masks for pain
Masks that resemble gratitude
Masks that hide something, but leave traces
Countless masks for condescension, but disguised as wisdom
Masks for arrogance, but people think it's knowledge.
Masks for emptiness, masks for satisfaction
And even a mask for that long-forgotten sentiment you can't even remember.
We mask-sellers
Have no doubt in our business
A mask for need and a mask for smile
It's all for greed
And there's also briefcases for sale
To put your masks in, were you expecting something else?
What mask are you wearing today?
Which masks are you going to give away?
Are your masks too worn out to use?
Come and see us
We have the best and the worst
It's not safe to go out without one
There's no mask for an excuse.
This life is nothing till it leaves.
The wilted grass of the past
Mocks the dirt that surrounds me.
Is it too late to go back,
Now that I know I was happy?
This is a quick heads up- in honor of the fast approaching 200th round of the PRC, I'm commissioning an "Ode to the Runners." All this is, is I'm asking you to write a poem about, or prominently featuring, any PRC member (by which I mean any user who has ever submitted to the PRC), past or present, and include (an ode to [the name of that member]) in the title. This work will be presented as a single thread, with ALL submissions being posted. To participate, just send me a message including your submission.
Christ bleeding in a mass grave
Mary raped in the streets of Rome
Moses leads his flock to an oven
Samson shaves his head and joins the marines
Joseph drunk and deadbeat
Isaac sacrificed live on fox
Abraham executed for obedience
And his executioner elected president-
Abel the face in all mirrors
And Cain's gazing in
Adam and Eve for free on the internet
The apple of knowledge our only vittles
Poisoned and black from the snake which plucked it
Ramses redubbed Murdoch
Ozymandias rechristened Liberty
A pyramid becomes a spire
A sphinx becomes a dead man in a hat
Carved in marble and sculped with
the hate of all locusts
who might harvest the fruitful
Legacies of loss
David a madman
And Goliath a martyr
And both die that we might
warm our hands on the funeral pyre
Ask me again
Why I don't believe
God is Love
Which is nearer to love-
A junkie and his dealer?
A sinner and his preacher?
A father murdering his son?
Or a man giving oral sex
To another man-
The first person he ever trusted
God said
"Things are actually supposed
"to be this impossibly ****ed up.
"I killed a hundred kids in a fire
"To prove that I love you."
Today I sold some knives
It was an interesting yard sale
He was old
Probably 60 and then some
He wanders town, with his walker
Awkwardly staring at people's daughters
But Me. Lincoln he had
With my name on it!
5 dollars is almost lunch now a days,
Definitely worth my automatic combat karambit
(Ka-ram-bit for those who don't know, a curved blade to jack people up with, the handle typically has a finger hole so you can do sweet spin moves and whatnot)
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
{мы, тьма}
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
Languishing, bested
Under an Arizona sunset
Staring down a 747
As it scales a parted wall of clouds
Its ugly is absolute-
And makes such a perfect scene;
The way the dead trees
Line the unfinished wall
Like how the dust pollutes
The way this desert has
That much less hope and
That much more sand
Than the true desert, haunting and grand
And yet- I still feel its ramshackle jazz
I never want to leave
For I know of its sin
And bear its solemn twin
Being abandoned remains its pain
But this is no place to grieve
This,
Is my perfect, pale patch of ugly.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
eventually all your ideas repeat like bad food
vomit on your clothes and then on the clotheslines
we were sick with thought poisoning and hung ourselves from strings
so we could wear ourselves
wring me out and keep me closer
let me dry and water drip
off the edges of the garments
hung up strangled 'till the slip
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
I lost the thought and never recalled it back
My last ray of hope vanished in the dark
A maze of mists swirling in a mind so thin
to think his last resort was suicide and gore.
Children dancing the maypole dance
Wearing nooses around their necks
I know gallows are full of witches
Once and again there's a itch to scratch
And if your sanity is nowhere to be found
Remember the words clad in profanity
And the blood spilled when you were born
And the weird and winding road
Towards an end, all things must go.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Bring some blood to oil the gears
a little, until they become something recognizable again -
I would ask, were it not your arm in the wires,
Sacrificing knife between my lips to grisly work.
But there needs be blood, you know,
and I won’t tell; I will keep it in and close
and do the work myself
though I am dry…
And as the machine runs with no oil
I will mask the smoke with smokescreens,
I will clear the air with hot air and I will mask the rot of my regression with
Mint
Rosemary
Posies
Chamomile
Thyme
Vapors into dusty lungs,
Gag and blow the rust away
Give room for clarity which comes in coughs -
I live for these pneumoniac spasms.
- Miasmic, bloated with plague and cure alike
is your love.
Now look into pitted eyes,
Touch lips to raven’s maw
Bury fingers in black fabric and
learn them like my smile that tells you that
everything will be all right
Because I will not let it out;
This body is a temple ending in wingtips
Black, gothic facade, dignified and house of God
Contagion zepelid swelling in places all all-wrong -
Clocktower scaffold bathed in quieting blood
Pleas
Let there be blood to quiet the gears,
Embalming incense to soften cookie-cutter fears,
bronzed and cast as cogs.
Silence these squeals
That would finally tell the truth to you:
That this is not
A tower or resting place
A hall for mending broken hearts or
place of sanctuary -
I am not Machseh and
I make not a marriage bed or build a shrine toward God
The screams that would betray, glancing through clocks and cables rigged
That beneath everything you love, my love,
Is a Machine for Pigs.
URW Delversnipe (Modern)
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
1-
this is day 1 of the beginning of the end of the rest of my life
decision one and a foot forward
and maybe i will start to progress
there are things.
people don't understand
that when i don't talk i am still saying things
i wish people could read my mind and do what i wanted them to do
and love me
and maybe i will start to love myself
2-
this isn't day two not really but it is the second day of the beginning of the etc. etc. you are already bored of reading that
in the real day two i did nothing
but eventually i went crazy
these things tend to take time
and i walked into the street outside my house and closed my eyes
and there was a screech and people started honking at me with their cars
and I started to tremble but nobody wanted to touch me
and on some deep level I was disappointed
why would the cars come to a stop instead of running over me
don't people want to get to work?
it took fifteen minutes for a police car to get to the situation
and they put me in the backseat
and drove away
there were two of them.
the officer was actually really nice.
he tried to give me some coffee
and i took it even though it tastes like dried poop because it's hot
and we had a conversation about something
and it went like this kinda
"why were you standing in the street"
well that's a good place to stand when you want to get hit by cars i thought
"well you shouldn't try to get hit by cars, it's bad for you"
no like you don't understand that's all i need and then i won't have to care anymore
"think of all the people you stopped from getting to work on time today"
well they would have gotten to work on time if they'd hit me look i could have ruined the
finish of their cars but they can just think of it as rust
cars cost a lot to drive anyways
if you can't afford some rust you should sell your car
"we'll get you some help."
i'm guessing that doesn't mean you're going to hit me with a car"
"no"
then i was silent but **** it i guess there were things
and mental analyses
and apparently i am sane or something
that's always what they want you to think
3-
this is day 3 of zzz
people keep stopping me from making it the last day of zzz
i'm starting to feel they think they have some sort of stake in it when they really don't
people just generally don't seem to understand the way it feels
the way everything feels
i told my sister secrets and she spit them stupid at the ground
spit them out and forgot them
and asked me why i felt so bad the next time she was here again even though
I ALREADY TOLD HER
people only listen to themselves
and my problem is i listen to everybody else
or my problem is
i don't listen to myself enough
and when i do i am incomprehensible
a stream of babbling nonsense hot messes
4-
fourth time is the charm i think that's how it goes
this is the end of the beginning of the **** it this is never going to work
i agreed with my 'appointed therapist' that i should put the mask back on that lets me look at society without everyone else looking at me
because i get so sad
when everybody else looks at me
but i need them to do it anyways
and i wanted to be happy but it's more important i guess that everyone else is
maybe if i'm wearing a normal mask
i can keep the stares short
cut down the amount of time remaining in the hourglass
sand moves so slowly
i stare at the movement of the grains
and i will not cry
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
He wanted the sky to be his own
Wanted the wings to soar high
A crystal dream as soft as a feather
Hovering over the water
Piercing the highest cirrus
And the winter winds to portrait his reverie
Through the horizon
He flies to the night
Every dream in every flight.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
White Willow, White Willow
Covered in snow
Do your branches stir when you feel the wind blow?
White Willow, White Willow
The passage of time
Aging ever-stronger with the curves of the vines
White Willow, White Willow
What's going on in your head?
White Widow, White Widow
Your husband is dead.
{мы, тьма}
2012: Best (False?) Role Claim - Worst Town Performance (Group) - Best Mafia Performance (Group) - Best SK Performance - Best Overall Player
2013: Best Non-SK Neutral Performance
2014: Best Town Performance (Individual) - Best Town Performance (Group) - Most Interesting Role - Best Game - Best Overall Player
2015: Worst Mafia Performance (Group) - Best Read
2016: Best Town Performance (Group) - Best Town Player - Best Overall Player
The widow isn't the only thing white, nor the only thing sticky.
You can inhale both, if you'd like;
the first will cost you five, the third will cost you sixty.
I can make a sandwich, but all I've got is turkey.
Roast beef is my favorite, the lean cuts.
Above average amount of vinaigrette.
I brought the woman with the dead husband, you bring the bread and dark meat.
Deal.
Come with me, or don't.
I shrug.
Outbliss me, you won't
Like a kite in the rain;
Like a gently hanging bough
Drizzling shade across the plains;
Your strength is your sin is
Your pride
As a mountain at dawn
As a cloud at noon
As pollution at midnight
Your beauty is what you hide
Is what you deny
Is the light
Is my hope
You are a fever dream.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
Thoughts drowned by the time that has passed
Until now; Hereby I end their stagnation
By letting them flow
And not counting them back
In all these years I was nothing but part of the block
Thinning memories, throwing away solutions
Ideas that could make me moist with fever
By promising that I would never
Dam the river again.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
no sight
so just those touches
all my senses lie excited
it's such a crutch
they take advantage
what sweet lies
those rites of passage
so lie to me
i want to be complete
you() *******
exploit my lover's streak
don't talk
the warmth is good enough
come closer
my head is on your shoulder
i know our world is ending soon
shut up
just move a little closer
just sit
like this
and let me feel
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Fists clenching as a rage brews
Heightened awareness, I can't lose
A trip underground is in the near future
My animalistic nature is bringing out the truth
stronger
faster
quicker
The hate in my pupils starts to flicker
I let go of my peace
Wrath will forth come today,
Beg for mercy if you please
Edit: Lame, I tried the whole spacing it different thing, when you post it just reverts.
The ghosts left behind
The memories of mismade worlds;
False endurance of
lost cadence
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
I took a walk down Woodward Av,
At my friend’s request.
But we only took twenty-two steps,
And I left him for the rest.
I took a walk down Woodward Av,
You didn’t come with me.
I left you behind because
These weren’t the parts you’d want to see.
I took that walk in canvas shoes
Not made for roads like that.
I walked it in a trail of smoke;
These lungs weren’t made for that
Any more than this heart was made
For the things we put it through –
Forgive me for that, and how it feels,
It’s really nothing to do with you.
But it’ll beat until I’m dead,
So let’s try my head instead.
The angles there are all askew,
The roads and lights are gritty.
Nothing like the well-laid block
That Garmin calls the Metro City.
There are too many dead-ends here,
Too many paths I broke.
These synapses, they don’t take counsel,
They were made for pouring smoke.
I watch it as it trickles down,
Focus on how it roils –
One more drag into the brain:
Let’s see how this one boils.
It always leaves me with a choice
(And it’s always sickly slow)
Of just how I’ll cook my brain this time:
Too hard, too soft, to gaslight glow?
It’s nothing to do with being high;
It’s figuring out how to say goodbye.
I prepare to say those words,
Resist the call to bend.
I don’t prepare to give my will;
I just decide how it will end.
They fall away, the thoughts and ash,
And as I try and hold the rest
a car-wash sign above me asks,
“Are You Preparing For Success?”
I found my friend back at the car,
Having words with a last smoke-ring:
I’d walked the Av and had been told
That I don’t believe in anything.
URW Delversnipe (Modern)
There’s no comfort
In knowing there’s no comfort
And it’s no wonder
We’re sowing no wonders
Just plow it all under
Our land is so sundered
Grows only more hunger
More pain and more suffer
Many fighters but few lovers
Many babies but few mothers
In a world like no other
Now I’m no hero
In pointing out there’s no heroes
The sky is no safer
There are no talking snakes
Lightning has no maker
A missing rib with no taker
Playing roulette with no stakes
In a car with no brakes
Headlong into the lake
Shackled to such weight
Angel’s always too late
To save us from our fate
Our heaven has no gates
The dirt spares no name
Thanks to Xenphire @ Inkfox for the amazing new sig
“Thus strangely are our souls constructed, and by slight ligaments
are we bound to prosperity and ruin.”
― Mary Shelley, Frankenstein
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
Masks.
Every person wears one
A mask for silence
A mask for wrath
A mask for anguish
A mask for self-pity
Masks for joy, masks for pain
Masks that resemble gratitude
Masks that hide something, but leave traces
Countless masks for condescension, but disguised as wisdom
Masks for arrogance, but people think it's knowledge.
Masks for emptiness, masks for satisfaction
And even a mask for that long-forgotten sentiment you can't even remember.
We mask-sellers
Have no doubt in our business
A mask for need and a mask for smile
It's all for greed
And there's also briefcases for sale
To put your masks in, were you expecting something else?
What mask are you wearing today?
Which masks are you going to give away?
Are your masks too worn out to use?
Come and see us
We have the best and the worst
It's not safe to go out without one
There's no mask for an excuse.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
The wilted grass of the past
Mocks the dirt that surrounds me.
Is it too late to go back,
Now that I know I was happy?
like pen pencil computer
sometimes prolific
sometimes a neuter
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
Christ bleeding in a mass grave
Mary raped in the streets of Rome
Moses leads his flock to an oven
Samson shaves his head and joins the marines
Joseph drunk and deadbeat
Isaac sacrificed live on fox
Abraham executed for obedience
And his executioner elected president-
Abel the face in all mirrors
And Cain's gazing in
Adam and Eve for free on the internet
The apple of knowledge our only vittles
Poisoned and black from the snake which plucked it
Ramses redubbed Murdoch
Ozymandias rechristened Liberty
A pyramid becomes a spire
A sphinx becomes a dead man in a hat
Carved in marble and sculped with
the hate of all locusts
who might harvest the fruitful
Legacies of loss
David a madman
And Goliath a martyr
And both die that we might
warm our hands on the funeral pyre
Ask me again
Why I don't believe
God is Love
Which is nearer to love-
A junkie and his dealer?
A sinner and his preacher?
A father murdering his son?
Or a man giving oral sex
To another man-
The first person he ever trusted
God said
"Things are actually supposed
"to be this impossibly ****ed up.
"I killed a hundred kids in a fire
"To prove that I love you."
Ask me again
Why I don't believe
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
It was an interesting yard sale
He was old
Probably 60 and then some
He wanders town, with his walker
Awkwardly staring at people's daughters
But Me. Lincoln he had
With my name on it!
5 dollars is almost lunch now a days,
Definitely worth my automatic combat karambit
(Ka-ram-bit for those who don't know, a curved blade to jack people up with, the handle typically has a finger hole so you can do sweet spin moves and whatnot)