Long Unpalatable Poems
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Prayers can't feed starving children:
as bloated bellies can attest.
Yet, this truth's unpalatable:
near impossible to digest.
Dangled in front of hungry eyes,
promises, raise expectations.
And faith defies reality:
fueling false aspirations.
Predictions of times of plenty
are garnered from kernels of Hope.
And yet, seeds of conformity
are sown on a slippery slope.
Paradise is a fantasy:
fictitious; there is no such place.
But religions preach that there is:
struggling to maintain a straight face.
Rose-colored glasses tint our views:
lacking substance or solutions.
And so, we fortify belief:
through illusions and delusions.
My muse is on fire, she burns at the stake
guilty of poetasting, and glaring mistakes
Inferior rhymes with old Monoku outtakes
blaze all around her, as embers are raked
Badly blistered syllables, spark and flake
Whilst lacklustre stories, continually bake
A bard fans the flames, but he too’s a fake
for mincing his own words, with juicy steak
Making ado about nothing, soliloquy spake
Glory to the Efilist god, ha! give me a break
A dedication of respect
for rendering down a bard
# # #
However unpalatable
and repugnant the suet tastes
# # #
From March madness to April fool’s
digesting copious amounts of insipid tofu
# # #
Only to wipe it off
in an all encompassing
persistent vegetative state
By
David Kavanagh IV
"God give you the strength to finish this your way"?
I don't think you are first on his list, a special chair on judgment day?
better meditate, get it straight, rinse and repeat, people are people
so maybe when you're not "winning" people say, not sarcastically
that's okay, he's allright,
he's a good man with a magnetic personalitay livin right
or you can be an evil serving self proclaimed savior of gangland racket
too kool this mouth of the north and the south, with the devils ball sack in it
unpalatable to me if true colors were flavors,
id have to spew it from my mouth, like a bad flavr flav of JayZ or PeeDiddy or the other tools lyricals.
Think the world needs something refreshing,
no color on the brain, but still Golden, a golden giving heart molded upon brotherhoods fleece meshing. Not seeing scapegoats and color and retaliation.
You want to be a superstar, just dive right on in,
get on the ball, get in the game
But me more DeMarcus"ware" of your surroundings, Lest your words can block a fortress, a Minecraft of bombs. Are you on the front lines or sounbyte drive-by ing in your Catablack Escapade and control your own
climate, which is frigid to some.
Verily brothers I say to you, one might say
that all colors bleed into one,
colorless, souls, before God, judgment on, day
one
Submerged in a rat race, to keep the number high.
compromised the truth of the Prince of Peace,
imported science, liberalism and other form of philosophies.
to obscure the simplicity of the gospel,
Biblical illiterates lulled men to sleep through fantasy
and indeed,
“Thine enemies roar in the midst of thy congregations;
they set up their ensigns for signs.”
some experts of science,
others chose philosophy for their trade.
A mixture of voodoo and tradition
the babel of our religion,
many inventions and importation
from the world system to soothe men's cravings.
and in our bids to compete and conform
we sent the Master out through the door
and men love it so.
As we are now jesters from the pulpits
The complete gospel now a burden.
Repentance is extinct, righteousness unpalatable,
our churches as club houses where no Bible it taught
with itching ears as congregants
and we were just socializing,
more denominational than divine
secret devotion now archaic,
and the dark kingdom was plotting
as men sopor like captive.
then came corona, as a scourge, trudging the entire universe like a colossus
and men remembered.
that our Master is the master of the wind
but we sent him out long ago.
By a compromised gospel
Such pipedream regarding
winning bucket loads of cash,
would make monetary woes
in an instantaneous flash
mine dentures no longer
will futilely grind and gnash,
cuz I would undergo oral surgery
and simultaneously acquire
mush sought after gumption,
where dental implants
could offer million dollar smile
mastication boring full force
while I monstrously, yet easily mash
the most unpalatable pop slop
made with tender loving care
courtesy the missus.
Selective serotonin reuptake inhibitors
play key role to alleviate paroxysms
debilitating bouts of anxiety and panic attacks
wracked these lovely bones
during their roaring twenties
severely impinging potential to relish
joys and sorrows present within mein kampf
vast stretches of life sabotaged
courtesy mental health challenges,
thus I acknowledge miracle of modern medicine
particularly prescription medication
(iterated within first line of this verse),
which allows, enables and provides
blessed escape illness noggin tortured.
Come!
by Michael R. Burch
Will you come to visit my grave, I wonder,
in the season of lightning, the season of thunder,
when I have lain so long in the indifferent earth
that I have no girth?
When my womb has conformed to the chastity
your anemic Messiah envisioned for me,
will you finally be pleased that my sex was thus rendered
unpalatable, disengendered?
And when those strange loathsome organs that troubled you so
have been eaten by worms, will the heavens still glow
with the approval of God that I ended a maid—
thanks to a spade?
And will you come to visit my grave, I wonder,
in the season of lightning, the season of thunder?
Keywords/Tags: sonnet, god, religion, Christian, Christianity, puritanism, chastity, virgin, virginity, nun, sex, sexy, lust, desire, death, grave, passion, lightning, thunder, earth, womb, tomb, worms, organs, maid
Vacuum of thoughts
Pain that defines its origin
Invisible block on throat
Tasteless air through the nostrills
A body weak to the skeleton
How does a house stand without it's central pillar?
How does one look at their face without a mirror ?
How does one exist outside of existence?
Unpalatable questions yearning answers
A broken soul longing wholeness
A shattered heart begging comfort
A mind out of sync with reality
Birds compose a final sombre anthem
as winds whisper the silent voices of those laying under
Fountain of tears make way down the pale cheeks
Here cometh the hour
Dust to dust
The choir master carries with, confidence of angelic voices the choir ministered
Undertaker's gathers tools in fulfillment of task completed
The Levi hopes the missionary message preached cuts deep
The multitude takes comfort in knowing their presence was made known
I carry with, a sore and heavy heart of a future without you.
The Development of
Doctor Wolfgang Sinister
Story by Stem and Kirch Fortissimo
Ensembles of the
Powerful Sounds of Musicians
(Masters of there Crafts)
Professors Pernis Ptilorhynchus and Professor Falco Apivorus
Formed the "Minion" a Non for profit charity for
the interest of Honey Lovers throughout the world.
They often warned people of the differences between
honey for people(consumers): honey that's toxic.
The Professor warned many people to be aware of
the evil : Doctor Trigona Hypogea,: who's villanous brew
consists of a process meat from dead animals, which they
then mix with sugary plant products to create a sweet
substance that resembles honey. Curses! Curses! spoke
one member of "the Minion" who strokes the ego of both
Professors.While there's no definitive proof of it being toxic,
the idea of consuming honey derived from rotting meat is
generally unpalatable to most people.
One day darning a recessionary period in human history
when funds and moral had ran low, both professors sough
funding to continue there work. They were up right and honest, but they couldn't achieve there goals and were doomed to dismantle.
Then evil came upon them, a shadowy figure
appeared before them, asking them to sell there soul to him
might he fund there projects. They refused him . Professor
Apivorus needed more from this person and went to see him at
a place called Bingo Mountain. A place were lavender and flowers were
grow to attract bees of all kinds. The Shadowy figure told the Professor he'd help him as long as he was fair, and kind. Asking why he's used those words the Shadowey Figure just said "as sweet as necaters is to the bee: honey is sweet to the man who admires it's taste: the sweet sticky things!"
The Professor told him I know you use corn syurp in your product
challenging all sacred honey producers to speak ill of you.
Swiftly the wind blew
We thought it'd be but a few
But it left something so new
It was a sad and unpalatable news
Just when we were asking
We thought you'd still be breathing
We are left with our jaws hanging
When we were told what was happening
Our hearts are broken
From us all you've bn stolen
A good friend now to be frozen
One of our finest has bn stolen
We prayed and were waiting
It came and we were wailing
Same you that we were hailing
Now watched your breath as it was faiding.
Father receive this soul
For we loved him so whole
We thought together we'd grow old
Now your departure has dug a hole
Who will take your role
Arranging the files in roll
We lean and wail leaning on the pole
As our hearts are caged in cold.
Rest in peace my friend
Rest in peace till the end
On our knees we bend
And to the wind we send
Let our colleague get to the end
Never leave him till he's laid
On the bosom of his creator
Where he finds his everlasting rest.
I'll miss you my dearest brother
Till we meet again
Rest, rest and rest my brother.
Bleakish heart of pains,
Unwrapped from mortal's feeling of care
Bastardly coined to suit immerse hurt.
Invincible, yet darker than black darkness.
A visitor sweeping through pleasure-less passion.
Cloudy piles of undemonstrative depth.
Unwelcomed, yet rash to adsorb poor minds of men.
I'm sunk in, swallowed of my fainting breath.
Such fear to be stripped in bonds unpalatable to life.
Protuberant six month's count I spill in tears.
Shadows of turbid reflection stealing every consciousness.
As I lie in a mood-less portion destitute in spirit and soul.
Obscurity shadows my psyche to chain all prospect of felicity.
I seek hope, I'm mounting thoughts of mischief to shadow rather in care.