Long Fate worse than death Poems

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A Fate Worse Than Death

A maniac has kidnapped me and he's holding a gun to my head.
He's forcing me to watch the new Doctor Who but I'd rather be dead.
I can't stand the new Doctor Who TV show, why is he doing this to me?
This is a fate worse than death, I want him to put me out of my misery.

I can't stand the political correctness of the new Doctor Who.
I'm begging him to pull the trigger, that would be the kinder thing to do.
I like the new Doctor Who as much as Jerry Seinfeld likes Newman.
Forcing me to watch these episodes is cruel, it's positively inhuman.

If I watch much more of the new Doctor Who, I swear I'll be driven insane.
I can't believe what this psycho is doing to me, how can he be so inhumane?
I loved the classic Doctor Who but forcing me to watch the new is sick behavior.
I want him to pull the trigger and end my life, he would be doing me a favor.
Form: Rhyme


Mourning light in shared despair

We laid hands on your empty corpse
We stretched hands to touch your soul
We cried sympathetically looking through your grave
We cursed the provocation that sounded your death knell
But again we are here and mourning
Crying for our beloved friend

In the depths of sorrow, we find solace
In the darkness, we seek the light
The memories of you linger in our hearts
A reminder of a life once bright

A fate worse than death, a loss profound
But in our grief, we are bound
Bound by love and shared despair
Bound by the memories we all bear

So we mourn, we weep, we remember
For in our hearts, you will live forever
A fate worse than death, we survived
But in our love, you will always thrive.
Form:

Some Hippies, a Convict, and Mickey Mouse

Straight out of prison
Wondering what I've been missing
Right out of the gates I stuck out my thumb

A van load of hippies
All from Mississippi
Stoped and asked, hey dude...what's going on

I'm here for adventure
Well hop in then Mister
Adventure is what we're all about

Now where we're all going
There's no way of knowing
A van of hippies and parolee freshly let out

We ended up in Disney
Me and all of the hippies
Where we had caboodles of fun

We met Mickey and he saw it 
When I lifted his wallet
Now we're in the Magic Kingdom all on the run

We split in different directions
To throw off detection
It's A Small World is where I made my mistake

With that song stuck in my head
It's a fate worse than death
Prison now sounds like a wonderful place

We rendezvoused in
The Pirate's Of The Caribbean 
Where soon after, in came the law

We all jumped from our boats
Splashing around in the moat
And had ourselves a good old fashioned pirate brawl

We soon made our escape
Out of exit door 88
Finding ourselves in Frontier Land at night

Where in the middle of the street
Were Mickey, Donald, and Goofy
All with guns strapped to their sides

We ran into a shop
And bought guns on the spot
All with Mickey's money...he's a mouse of a man

Mickey squeeks we're going to ruff you up
As Goofy holds up the cuffs
And Donald says something we can't understand

We had a shoot out
With cap guns no doubt
After all Disney runs a safe place

Ran out of caps in our guns
Which stopped our lives on the run
The wrath of Mickey we all now would face

After justice's hammer
I'm now back in the slammer
This time I made my own prison bed

Now I cry every day
What more can I say
With It's A Small World still stuck in my head
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Stay, Doctor Fauci, Stay



Oh, don’t abandon us now!
We so love your masked fear.
Tell us, Dr Fauci, my dear.

What shall I do, Holy Cow?
Should I check my cat’s rear?
Is there Omicron in my ale or beer?

I fret over eating meat from a sow!
Shall I go check my skin in a mirror?
We need you, who makes thing, clearer!

We might have to go to work?
Oh, no, a fate worse than death!
To smell real human breath?

Of boosters and lockdowns we cheer!
Of Meta and Twitter we merrily sing.
The COVID national anthem is our thing!



             8/24/2022
                ~1~
Form: Rhyme

Caterwauling Disrupted Peace of Mind and Jeopardized Mine Body Electric

A couple nights ago
(today being August 4th, 2021)
while walking around the parking lot after dark
over yonder shrieking catcall heard - hark
at first methought, a baby experienced distress,
I immediately scratched that notion
far fetched as sound out the beak of bewailing lark
but Highland Manor apartments
generally quiet as cemetery park.

Truth be told yours truly an overgrown fraidy cat
who naturally sought to turn sharp
on his heels and beat path
for domicile entrance within seconds flat.

Hypothesization generated imagination
to conjure fate worse than death
predicated after huffing and puffing
(pertaining to above mentioned activity)
gasping for my last breath
praying to dog to escape
versus being figurative cooked goose
cowardliness quickly dismissed lame excuse
to avoid become laughingstock
with addled pate stuck within noose.

Maybe ferocious feral rabid animal on the loose
oh if only seen courtesy Doctor Seuss
what with me with hair raised straight up
and/or the wild beast
charging faster than lightning greased
impossible mission to call a truce
where creature waggled her/his tail
analogous to derailed caboose

prompting joker within me
to splutter what the deuce,
not wanting to discover vis a vis
common denominator most least
cuz mortal kombat witnessed bloody bloke
pronouncing one lapsed (Aloe there)
spidery legged wandering Jew deceased.

Forsooth
aforementioned scenario fabrication of truth
insipid since contents (reasonably rhyming materiel)
devoid remotely labeled uncouth
fiction employed to entice reading poem
tastefully accomplished akin to wine
knowingly spiked with brandy
infused with herbs and spices
such sweetened drink constitutes
one of two varieties regarding 
never drinking teetotaler vermouth;
red (sweet), which originally
hails from Italy, and white (dry)
which first appeared in France.
Form: Rhyme


You Are What You Eat

Dripping
Dropping
Down it’s falling
My own blood
It wants to leave me
And so I let it
Set it free
My own blood
Is leaving me
My hollow veins
Are growing lonely
But words in ink
They’ll never leave
And so I write down
What I think
I contemplate
Each little thing

I think about my mother
And I think about my father 
Would’ve made a better brother 
Should’ve been a better daughter
But I grew into a heathen
And along the way I stopped believing
Ran out of fear
Ran out of faith
Now look at what
I have became
It’s a cold, dark world
I can’t help but to look forward
To the heat that makes me weak
The flames that keep me company
Soaked in blood
Hell will flood
Smoke and ash will turn to dust
Cause God, he knows
I will destroy all I touch
All but the taste of victory
Delicate and oh so sweet
It tastes a lot like Hell’s defeat
Cause even demons
I keep them running
There’s a special place in Hell for me
It’s called a throne
It belongs to me and me alone
I am the one that guard’s Hell’s gate
Who’s appetite your sins will sate
And when you’re but a shell
Rotting in the pits of Hell
I’ll feast on what is left
I am what they call
A Fate Worse Than Death
Form: Lyric

Premium Member The Splendor of Love

They Will Never Understand.....

The fullness of your love that forever is in my hands.
Nor the joy in my heart that lives, though we are miles apart.
People wonder, why didn’t you marry another man?
As if that Hellenic angel, can ever be replaced by another face.

I cannot think of more sadder fate.
Shallow, shallow, they understand me not! I have an eternal mate!
A symphonic joy designed by the fates.

They think I need a ring and white dress and must tie the knot?
I must give up the joy of my life that literally moves this pen?
Never! Not Even tomorrow! What a sorrow!

A fate worse than death and with poison, filled to the brim.
A daily chalice of sorrow to exist in?
I know who I am eternally committed to...
Allow me the space to be me, and please, be you!

My heart made of red roses and the finest lace.
And beats only for his embtace.
In eternity, is our home and everlasting space.
A tapestry of stars, waiting for our eager embrace!




                            9/15/2021
Form: Rhyme

Some Hippies, a Convict, and Mickey Mouse

Straight out of prison
Wondering what I've been missing
Right out of the gates I stuck out my thumb

A van load of hippies
All from Mississippi
Stoped and asked, hey dude...what's going on

I'm here for adventure
Well hop in then Mister
Adventure is what we're all about

Now where we're all going
There's no way of knowing
A van of hippies and parolee freshly let out

We ended up in Disney
Me and all of the hippies
Where we had caboodles of fun

We met Mickey and he saw it 
When I lifted his wallet
Now we're in the Magic Kingdom all on the run

We split in different directions
To throw off detection
It's A Small World is where I made my mistake

With that song stuck in my head
It's a fate worse than death
Prison now sounds like a wonderful place

We rendezvoused in
The Pirate's Of The Caribbean 
Where soon after, in came the law

We all jumped from our boats
Splashing around in the moat
And had ourselves a good old fashioned pirate brawl

We soon made our escape
Out of exit door 88
Finding ourselves in Frontier Land at night

Where in the middle of the street
Were Mickey, Donald, and Goofy
All with guns strapped to their sides

We ran into a shop
And bought guns on the spot
All with Mickey's money...he's a mouse of a man

Mickey squeeks we're going to ruff you up
As Goofy holds up the cuffs
And Donald says something we can't understand

We had a shoot out
With cap guns no doubt
After all Disney runs a safe place

Ran out of caps in our guns
Which stopped our lives on the run
The wrath of Mickey we all now would face

After justice's hammer
I'm now back in the slammer
This time I made my own prison bed

Now I cry every day
What more can I say
With It's A Small World still stuck in my head

Too Far Gone

I waited in the shadows,
Amidst the chaotic stillness,
That promised the entrance of a storm.
The light seemed so near yet so far,
The darkness won't leave me,
It knows its guests and their deeds,
It lets them grow,
It consumes them, killing the light, if any.


My escape won't mean peace,
It would be a fate worse than death,
And, red doesn't easily leave the hands,
It lives forever to immortality,
It calls out to the snake,
That runs to you bearing its fangs
Ready to bite you, bring you to your knees,
The venom makes you wish you were never born,
That you had never seen the darkness,
That you had never too far gone.



Date - Saturday, 9th July, 2022

Caravanserai Heading Toward the Levant

a tsunami catapulted cruising skiff
skyward landing with quiet thud
across undulating infinite granular waves
formerly solid state rocks and minerals

optimism vibrant upon initial unforeseen
crash asper for test dummies
foundered as undertow fostered diminishing hope
initial faith for survival quickly ebbed

nsync with retreating tidal wave
pessimism dreamt fantastical holograms
farther from beached berth
immediately transformed into quicksand,

while off in the distance
a glimmering chimera
(the first of many) appeared
amidst the desert sands one mirage

after another falsely broken promise
buoyed drained salvation
quick decision decreed each man for himself
thus disseminating banded bruited "brothers"

condemnation, damnation, excoriation, fulmination
hurled at cosmic creator thwarting intercession
dehydration, exhaustion, ingratiation, jubilation
foretold merciless portentous demise

witheringly desiccating lovely bones of mine
no doubt raw elements of nature wrought
fate worse than death sans, cabin "mates"
lost among expanse of whittled quartz

across chronometer measuring millions of years
now subjecting one measly mortal i.e. me
to cruel unforgiving, unrelenting,
unwelcoming petty coated junction

blistering hot wind obliterated
fellow travelers convoy deeply
within diabolical dunes
eternally erased doom

awaited for 21st century explorers
to discover scattered wreckage
both beast of burden, outrigged contrivance
and starry trekkers, who vanished without a trace

a handful of scrappy rapscallion existences
blotted (like ink, oil, or other liquid sponged),
where subsequent seasons
of wicked bewitched slow torture

akin to being raked over hot coals
exception made for this interminable sufferer
at the whim of sadistic
persona non grata evil spirit

n'er obliterating diehard survivor instinct
a foreigner to yours truly
but atavistic primitive fight or flight
witnessed relieved whence absently blinking

this life married to indiscriminate
clamped, harried, styled devilishness
evaporated in thin air
upon tentatively opening myopic brown eyes
horror, twas boot a dream.

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