Long Fear and loathing Poems
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I The Phoenix
I recall in my youth how the world around me seemed so alive vibrant in color and beauty. As I aged this beauty faded and was replaced with a new world filled with shades of grey. Life rushed by me quickly, I was no longer able to see the beauty around me. The longer I lived in this new world the more my spirit faded.
One day this new world came crashing down around me and I was left alone, abandoned in the streets. Overcome with fear and loathing I wandered aimlessly among the dispirited and walking dead. I survived on the pity and sustenance portioned out to the lost souls.
I found myself pondering my youth as I walked the streets and wondered where that world had gone. My eyes saw things along the sidewalk that inspired my imagination, I kept these as mementos of life lost. These tidbits of refuse I examined and again found vibrant color and beauty. I began to piece these small tokens together and slowly recreated my youthful vision.
Casting aside my thoughts of returning to the life that had drained away my spirit. I became whole again, I now dwell again in those vibrant colors and an abundance of happiness as were in my youth. Society will not number me among it's herded numbers of spiritless victims.
Authors Note:
3 years of homelessness and destitution opened my eyes and reignited my spirit. If you feel you have lost your way, cast off everything and start anew.
It's like a haunting
where images and visions freely sail
clutching to some distant memory that prevails
recalled with joy and laughter's gaze
or fear and loathing of the echoes raised;
should I sleep and dream a child's dream
would it return to me in nightmarish themes
or paint the picture of a moment in my history
where I am still the child lost in mystery?
In the sunlight dare, I dance
in puddles forgotten along the street expanse
or could I run without my shoes
and bare my innocence to lose?
is it just the puddle after the rain
or in this recollection can I be a child again
to wander the street of childhood
where alone we float easily as driftwood;
splash the puddles as the water flows
and embrace angelic blessings that children know
dance the frenzied round of simplicity most treasured
and find the adventures experienced and measured
of childhood forgotten and remembered again.
Chantelle Anne Cook
Childhood Memories
7/9/19
As she twists within,
Consuming our minds with fear and loathing,
And when we lose a petal each day because of her,
We forget.
For every time I have wept beneath the terrors of past events,
Under the shadows of his hand and my still youthful eyes,
It was pain that I feared,
And yet I had forgotten why she was there.
She just happened to be.
Yet again, the times I clenched my body together
In the hourless nights, whispering to myself
The sweet nothings of soothing secrets,
I was harking her away, the jealousy, I had lost too much.
All this time not registering her for what she was.
And when I lay on the mattress of blue,
In that god forsaken paper white gown,
Unpleasantly exposed and convulsing, time and time again
She spears my body with the force of a butcher.
And I despise her even now as she has driven me mad.
But I have grown into the dance she tugs us into,
As her knife as smoothed off my jagged edges,
Though I sob into her shoulder as we speak,
I have realised how in love I am with her.
As she is all of us.
She is my reminiscence of my old and future self.
All of which I own in the now I hold onto tighter,
As her predatory gaze lays upon it,
And it reminds me of what I have.
She only appears when I have something to lose
And does that not make me so utterly human?
So as she twirls me, and tears shed once again,
I remember that I am something, someone,
And so is she, and as we grow older, and I will fall for her over and over.
When we are born and life begins,
A child is perfect, free from sin.
We stand beneath life’s rising arch,
And grow through fits and halting starts.
As young adults, we race with speed,
Not understanding what we need.
We find first love in our late teens,
Not fully knowing what it means.
We race ahead, not looking back,
While the reaper stays on our track.
Middle age is on its way,
And the reaper never goes away.
And in the waning years of life,
Through all the toil and all the strife,
We start to wonder where life has gone,
And know we are closer to dusk than dawn.
A voice behind becomes more clear
As the reaper’s footsteps draw near.
Fear and loathing fill our thought,
As if we’re racing against the clock.
One day I choose at last to stop,
And slowly turn around and drop.
I see the reaper standing there.
He says, “My friend, I truly care.”
I know he’s here to end my life,
To free me from my pain and strife.
When out of nowhere, an angel appears,
Saying, “Have no fear, my brother, I am here.”
She reaches out and takes my hand,
And pulls me close where now I stand.
The reaper bows his shadowed face,
Then disappears without a trace.
The angel looks at me and says,
“Heaven is yours for endless days.”
Oh hello there! Again!
Aah!
Yes!
You there!
Such lovely young pretty plaything, a female?
I presume?
With the beautiful expensive suit!
I am just seeing you there like a dream of crimson and horror!
Oh sorry!
At my age, your mind starts to wander.
And a Wanderer I am!
A wanderer in pursuit!
Where are you going my dear,
boy or girl I don’t care.
Can I follow you there?
I stay very near?!
Oh don’t mind me, I’m just a wanderer you see!
I am just bringing light to the world
a bringer of light a bearer of sight if you will.
Oh is it?
Is true you just live down the avenue?
I see!
Can I walk with you a little, please?
This is a mighty fine place you have here,
a beautiful quaint little town,
quaint and clear…
all nestled back in the valley.
Hummm!
Yes. Indeed!
No one can hear you screa-rrr-I mean
no one can hear you in a quaint little place!
What is that?
Oh!
Yes! Indeed!
I’m sorry you may be worried
but don’t you fear I’m quite harmless,
don’t you see?
What are you seeing?
Oh, that!
that’s just ravens wings
tucked neatly near a bone-white spine
and onyx claws!
Nothing to see, here…
Oh, my fingers?
Oh so long, sleek sharp like razors
strong to rip you apart.
Sorry sorry, pardon me!
No need to run!
No need to struggle
Daggers slicing your flash!
Oh! I’m sorry did I mean to hurt you!
I am just passing through a wanderer you see.
A light bringer of fire and rage!
On my way to the Detonation Fields
Feeling my way through this blasted world.
Laughing at the powers that be!
Wait for the wormwood to fly…
Oh! Don’t worry about me!
Can’t you see I’m not staying,
just passing through!
I bring you fear and loathing.
But don’t you worry
I am everything!
Everywhere!
I know you are alone
but come closer,
a little closer,
please.
So, I can see you in this empirical twilight.
No need to struggle….
My fingers are strong, indeed…
Tightening, as you struggle to breathe
Can’t you speak?
No, I guess your crimson mouth speaks,
NOT!
Don’t struggle so…
I’m just a wanderer, you know…
I have such sights to show…
So come with me to the Holocaust!
Can you feel the infernos heat…
Hear the damned scream.
Sweet music!
Don’t you hear it too?
OH, sooooo sweet!
Ah YES!
Yes…
indeed.
Fear of the Outsider, the interloper, the alien
Is as old as humanity itself.
Xenophobia doesn’t just apply to someone foreign
And “not like us”,
It applies to anyone who may threaten
Our way of life, the status quo, the norm
And way “it’s always been.”
From local bar to climbing crag, surfing beach,
Ghetto corner, and Union shop floor,
The locals, sometimes multigenerational deep,
Tend to claim their turf
With the worst of human qualities;
Fear and loathing
Sublimated into snide ostracism,
Backstabbing gossip and withering looks
If not fully expressed with seething hate
Slander, bullying and assault.
Meanwhile life goes on for the Xeno
Head down, eyes averted, pathways diverted,
While in their heart
They recognize the love their haters have
For their cherished way of life and ground
Is not exclusive
And no different from their own.
(9/6/25)
My poem is inspired by our human rights. I am moved to tears by the plight of billions around the world.
It is estimated that 2.6 billion people (more than a third of the world's population) are living in countries or regions that are struggling with human rights abuses, repression, and corruption.
Descent into Darkness
By Michelle Morris
26/12/2022
You take away my right to speak
I am diminished in your eyes
You somehow think that gender
Is a reason for your lies
For the descent into darkness
It is an insidious thing
It will start with one unkind act
And spiral out like galaxies
Until you create a Universe
That is dark and foreboding
That inspires no one
Only fear and loathing
Anxiety and confusion
Stress and trauma bonds
Until only black and white remains
Where all rainbow colours are gone
STOP!
THINK!
FEEL!
We are not robots
We are human beings
When you take away our voices
You lose the songs we sing
Like a bird trapped in a cage
You'll trap us in our homes
No life or education
No career to call our own
We'll dress to be invisible
We'll slowly become shells
All life and love will be diminished
Our society's light will fail
So, consider it with compassion
Feel with integrity and empathy
For our society to flourish
We each need to be free to be
Let me use my voice
Let me be intelligent and wise
Let me be my best self
Let me choose my own life
Every creature deserves joy
To live and roam so free
No more descent into darkness
Let's be light and love and healing
© Michelle Morris, 2022
Ionah: first
(Morfil Gwr (Whale man).
Angry winds tore at the sails of the distressed little ship
Waves crashed and harried intent on destruction
Below he hid shaking with fear and loathing
Begging to be cast into the storming broiling waters
To escape the eyes and voice in his head.
Remembering how he stood at the edge of the dock
Watching tides swirl in and out with hypnotic intent
Fear in his mind forcing him to flight
Away he ran trying to feel unnoticed and small
Still he was found no peace for his plight.
Down he sank into the maelstrom deep lives saved
By his supposed good deed mind going blank
Down he went ,down he sank
To the depths he fell cold and black
Welcome death he cried his body slack.
Out of the deep with jaws open wide he came
Great fish of the deep, sifting the sea, Morfil by name
And swallowed the man his grief, anger and all
Shaking with anger tears streaking his face
Admitting defeat asked to be restored to his place.
With a great gush of vomit spewed onto the beach
Found him gasping as air filled his lungs
Grudgingly yet he ventured into the city
Looking at all his eyes full of pity
And they flocked to hear the words that he spoke.
Out to the wastes with anger in his heart
Leaving the people and city behind
Angry with them and the creator
Hiding away like some spoiled child
Under the searing heat of mid day sun.
Yet then the creator saw and loved the man still
Despite his tantrums and anger within
Sent help to feed and shade his head
And still the man asked and wished he was dead
“Why Me” was the song that he continued to sing.
Andrew P McIntyre 2012.
(“Shadow Puppet”, 2023, original encaustic)
What Is It About the Jews?
We live in a time of irrational fear and phobias
From fear and loathing towards one’s own body
And parents (about as basic to hating life as it gets),
To the rapid rise of anti-semitism
After the Oct. 7th massacre.
Now, as it was in Europe in the last century,
Jew hate is all the rage
From college campuses to the halls of Congress
And still it’s the same old same ole.
The problem is the Jews are the hyper rational ones,
The ones with a whole standard deviation higher IQ.
And this may not seem like much to those who cant understand
But it becomes oppressive to have them always overachieving!
And this oppression in academics
Business, entertainment and science
Makes the self-oppressed feel the victim
And so they, as they have always done,
Project their fear (in the form of hate)
Onto the Other.
Do the Jews sometimes play their own victimhood up
And so manipulate the less intelligent all the more?
Of course.
But that is the way of the world
Those who can, do
And those who cant, teach
And those who cant teach, just complain.
Even if the Jews didn’t exist
We’d have to make them up
To have something to complain about.
Maybe that is exactly what we do.
(9/8/25)
Where Ever it is it is
Where Ever it will be will be
No sickness or illness once your there
The lame shall walk the blind shall see
A place where magic lives
And dreams are reality
Imagine it and it appears
All hate and violence never here
No more hunger or despair
Plenty of everything for all to share
Laughter rings loud and clear
Joyful hearts dry those tears
Fear and loathing not here
A children's paradise to tumble about
Be loud and silly let the fun out
Float on a cloud, slide down rainbows
Puppies and kittens, wiggles your toes
Be you and I'll be me
And the world will smile in the land of happy
The days are long and sunny fair
The nights are cozy without a care
Where ever Where Ever is
There will always be room for every kid.