Funny we idolize, admire, imitate
Stars, politicians, elitists aggregate
Living in their hollow lavish luxury
As demonic robotic cultic zombies
Chasing the next pleasurematic high
Regardless soul depravation deprive
Sold out to their life utter perversion
Hiding from true light truth aversion
All the while remaining silent passe
Allowing the masses to be led astray
Feigning strength and superiority
Cowering to their lifestyle sorority
Afraid to say what's right n powerless
Living a secretive lie of cowardice
he weeps with thoughts
of depravation,
seeking wholeness as he
is chilled to his putrefying
bones
mossy tombs surround
abandoned graves,
ivy stretches up rock filled
with decay
the raven soars with might-
gliding over death and
destruction,
fearing nothing,
preying on decomposing
souls
like a bloodline to remorse
he fears not sutures from
wounds too scarred to heal
darkness envelopes
(he is abandoned)
emerald fields flourish in
the distance-
they are nourished with
wholeness and warmth,
spreading empty promises
to the weak
-blessed are the ones who are
buried in the abyss of pain
12.17.19
-luloo
depravation of
photographs not yet taken-
angel’s silhouette
I used:
howmanysyllables.com
July 13, 2019
The Journey from Crimson
Orange chakra on stage two of the journey perennial sacrum’s waves getting longer
a sensual colour accomplished spraying moistening waters tides and you
the rider surfing growth in lengthening wave swell searching for meaning
riddles comprised enter-prized rising let flow webbed intermingled for
pleasure desire escape from orange agentic mushroom fields of human depravation
longing in what is here for now yet to arrive amber whiling push-pull of senses
Tangerine like Kama Sutra’s challenge in naked nocturnal novel nirvana mirrored
layers of sensual vital living skins the secretions the challenge breathlessness
ascending from carnelian climax from joyful attained building blocks on the path and
unfaltering voyage to peace condensing violence to kindness
27th `July 2016
I wish I would have met you
when my heart would move
at the site of a tender colour
at dawn by a blooming flower.
before my gloomy past shadowed
my eyes later were clouded,
I would have made an effort
to know you a little better.
with naive love embracing,
due to sleep depravation, thinking
would I have played a different part
If tomorrow I need not depart.
Among the million estranged
into wind I be shattered
to start all over again
zillionth time in pain.
Every time I change places
I am lost in the minds of mazes.
Did I know this dissention might come to be?
Yes I was aware of its probability.
Did that make me any more prepared for the situation?
No I was not nor am I now.
I guess some things are best walked away from;
And you old love must be one of them.
In the hospital cafeteria an old man asked me to sit;
So I did and he talked about his wife dying.
Did somebody send me a vision of coming tomorrows?
Who knows but I can’t go on like this anymore.
I’ve injected, dissected and intertwined many angles;
But inevitably it seems to always come back to here.
As I slowly sink deeper into theses quagmire of depravation;
I seem to have worked my way down from hero to zero.
And my life is hell reflected in slow motion;
As I live out these many fractions of time.
And was it wrong to love you;
The answer escapes me.
And am I sorry now that I did?
I think sometimes I am.
Standing in the school yard
Alone and all forlorn
Trousers all threadbare
Jumper all torn
Eyes wide and frightened
Hair closely shorn.
Taunted and humiliated
Nobody on his side
No one knows the secrets
He's buried deep inside
He keeps them safely hidden
If he told they'd say he lied.
The filth and depravation
Of the place he spends each night
Unwashed,unloved, uncared for
As the world ignores his plight
Cold and hunger his compatriots
A bare bulb his only light.
The taunts and jibes they haunt him
As he lays down to his rest
Oblivious to the ramblings
Downstairs,of drunken guests
Blotting out the fear of shame
If by chance they called his name.
He dreams of being normal
To have a mom and dad who care
Of not fading to the background
Of not pretending he's not there
To have a family to protect him
Would be a reverie beyond compare.
But he'll survive the years before him
Be strong, become a man
Even though no one wanted him
He will achieve the things he can
But born as he was of mortal sin
He will always be that lonely "ragamuffin".
Poetry is like water, I drink it excessively
And speak it like its feather brushing air,
“So elegant”
Your ears seek comfort of my words to rock you to depravation
It’s so elegant sex deprives passion
From my syllables passion
I am who I am and poetry is my mistress
We make words together forever with the freshest lips,
And I’m still the only one to have ever kissed her, and made her
Verse in hypnotic convulsion
Yet I still have yet to reach the minds of her patrons
I guess she’s like liquor to the deaf
They just can’t handle her words and contradictions.
A. W. Nutter
Firestorms struck, killing man kind
Ivory towers quickly turning to dust
Treasures and fortunes all left behind
Melting, burning and gathering rust
Nuclear winter, locks the world in ice
Destroying the rest of God's creation
Man's destruction brought on from vice
Fitting testimonial to his depravation
Sun unable to penetrate the clouds
The rain continuing its endless siege
Cleansing the once fertile grounds
Nature reclaiming her lost heritage
Forests grow, at accelerated rates
No longer barren, fields turn green
Animals, the only creatures God creates
To inhabit the new garden of Eden
Stinging eyes, lifeless
I'm longing for my pillow
What will tonight bring
Staring at the pieces that once were his part of his life;
They lie there scattered as if part of a jigsaw puzzle.
Perhaps they sit there waiting to be reassembled.
But why bother he asks of himself and if ;
I do what will it all mean if all the pieces do come together?
And there in the back of his mind is the picture of her;
She is the girl holding the flower but yet having unseen eyes.
And he desire sleep but finds no success in his attempts;
Is he so different; other people let those things go;
Why can't I ( he asks).
He doesn't get it for they were once friends and lovers;
They brought life into the world and lost family together.
They laughed and they cried;
Stood side by side and back to back;
And now it's gone as if it may never have existed.
Did it really ever happen?
There's no name ;
Witten in stone to be found;
No suggest that any of it ever happened.
And he's so tired and so sleepy.
He feels much as if in a cockpit;
of some sort of flying vessels;
Blind but searching;
With no place to;
Land
The wind is bickering with the night
My poor house caught up in the middle
Pawing and retreating then pouncing like a cat
It drums at the windows and
Haunts a ricochet around the room
Of some rendez-vous echo where
The downtrodden beat downward
Into my valley, the new address of Lillith
Or Hydra, the war waging outside
Breaking careful silence like a train
Chuffing me slowly away with
The cars zooming in the wayside
Burnt out, the relay challenging
Me to find my own way into sleep
Depravation or a Concentration Camp
A womb must sound like this
Haunted and forboding. But, what foetus
Could ever know much better
Than to be scared out of new skin?
Calling for Hercules or a prescription
Some tablets and a glass of gin
To wipe away the world
Reentering anonymity and concentration
Camping myself in the ocean, a bag
For the dead, that little gold fish
Floating around within the carrier
Tonight, I sleep in the womb
this will be a work in progress...with my b horror film afficienado friend
john....suggestions under comments welcome:
For near two hundred years
The house spewed death
And fear among the land
All tenants died horrible early deaths(TB)
The first, a young termagant Virago,
many a foolish man,
walked through her door
never to walk out the same. (Christy Hardy)
For their tongues became lame,
They would not speak her name
Their eyes never focused again as well
After having been through such hell(TB)
And profane prayers to
The Evil One,
Are whispered in her halls
Ghostly visions of
Sin and depravation,
Curl within the mists
of misery witnessed there-in.
Indolence and procrastination took me by the hand
And standing there I didn't care for anything too grand
I wanted to sit back and rest but couldn't find the heart
So I stood there contemplating why I'd ever thought to start
Insolence and fascination stole me from that pair
I stuck my tongue out at them both They really didn't care
But I watched the way they didn't move a single caring bit
And wondered at their attitude of condescending wit
Innocence and reservation rescued me from falling
Into depths of depravation from spell inspired reviling
I couldn't see the wrongs they'd tried and didn't want to chance
Another couple stopping by to swirl me in a dance
Inference and imprecation walked right by and laughed
I chased them down in indignation for who were they to know
Deduced at once and scorned as much as any willing fool
I smoldered at the reference to being a chooch shadrool
Reality, it changes
No, it always stays the same
You’ve turned too many pages
Please go back the way you came
I’ve become warped and weathered
Many pages left to write
‘Bout how “my heart’s been severed”
And how “day turns into night”
Many times have I cried wolf
When I say “cried”, I SCREAMED
This guilt, it will engulf
While depravation haunts my dreams
When there was no dangerous flame
I forever shouted "FIRE!"
So, when everybody came
They all yelled back "YOU LIAR!"
PLEASE HELP! I AM ON FIRE
AND THE WOLF, HE LIT THE MATCH!
These words do not inspire
And they show you all I lack
Look past what is seen with eyes
Stare into my heart with yours
You’ll see hope and love disguised
As cleverly unlocked doors
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