Of A Mocking Symbolic Justice’s Statue
Blindfolded justice,
Can’t symbolize equity
With unbalanced scales:
Such a torching mockery:
Blinding out democracy:-
Blinding justice
To unbalance equity,
Mocks democracy:
Poor humanity blinded
By such unjust mockery:-
What i carried, I bear? in the world I am,
in this burden i carried,to this world am lost .
To much worries sent my heart unrest,
my burden, my pain.
No pain No gain. No pride in pains .
My smile, Greek gift to House of troy .
Lift my shoulder off this yoke let me look like the morning dew
hold my hand oh my CHI, let me arise in this darkness hour.
They crucified me in my darkness tunnel
they spear my pain with dagger and mix with vinegar of laughter
oh! CHUKWU, what is my offense ?
Oh ! My pretty pet Parrot !
I bow to thee, mocking bird :
to hear ‘ Good Morning ‘ at dawn,
daily on our first meeting.
Next, when I go to office,
you say, ‘Ma’am, have a Good Day’.
and ‘ Good Night’ at time of sleep.
The smile we wear on our face—
it isn’t designed by us,
it’s a part of who we are.
But why do some people
chase the artistic smile—
the perfect one,
teeth gleaming like a fountain
surrounded by white mist
and the sound of birds?
Instead, they mock the smiles
that bloom naturally,
making others feel insecure,
guilty even—
as if their smile
has committed a crime.
They hide their laughter,
seal their lips tight,
because of a careless word—
a word that can glue a smile shut.
We call their smiles “crazy,”
but do we even know
how to smile perfectly?
Is there a law that says
we must laugh a certain way?
No—
we have no right to judge.
If nothing else,
let’s not mock the smiles
that make the world
a little more human.
that loud obnoxious laugh
was parroting my own
movie theater erupted in silence
embarrassing
?? "Bestie Became Enemy"
Bestie became enemy, sharp like a knife,
I never thought you'd cut me out of your life.
I gave you my secrets, my soul, my trust,
Now all that's left is broken dust.
You knew my pain, you held my hand,
I thought you'd always understand.
But jealousy grew where love should stay,
And now your kindness fades away.
You smiled while you watched me fall,
Laughed behind every fake call.
The bond we had has lost its shine,
Your heart was dark, while I gave mine.
Now you smile with my worst enemy,
You cherish my pain, not what once set me free.
You've become a thorn, deep in my flesh,
Your presence no longer feels warm or fresh.
But I’ve learned the truth, I’ve seen the signs,
Not all sweet souls walk straight lines.
You were my sister, now you’re my test,
I let you go — and wish you the best.
Who the heck you think you are?
You bashed my car, yet strut with flair—
Like a proud star,
Too smug to care.
Your brain's back door was left ajar;
Your wisdom vanished in thin air.
Puffed with pride that won't go far—
At best, you'll earn a mocking stare.
I Figured Out What The MockingBirds Are Mocking
The JayBirds.
And Boy Are They Pissed.
-Gray
05-21-2025
illusion of a palmful of pills and confirmation clicks for the make-believe bliss
leave a mocking kiss on my delusional cheeks
smile for the lover's hiss because everybody sleeps
at the point the lies will blow out of your lips
then he stopped caring without an early notice
dry drawn hearts and unpaid fees
forever comes a long road, difficult to accomplish
if you are to stay, your soul's to be vanished.
Flaunting bliss like a golden medal
He struts about like a valiant prince,
Frowning at every sensible locution:
To mar and blemish and hurt and wince.
He knows no sense
Nor appreciates status,
His bliss is supreme law:
Brain's self-breaking hiatus.
He’s doomed to total damnation
And kisses that fact with glee;
Beckoning his annihilation
With feather-brained mirth.
snow laughs as it falls
one day it's sixty and then
hail size snow pellets
Scintillating night shimmering between the stars
darkness host flaunting loveliness
concealing and exposes wield power
encouraging serpentine walks to manifest themselves.
The nascent scent of sandalwood flows, does it mock the dead.
In the midst of midnight mystic twilight
two lovebirds sing mid purple and mauve wisteria.
Silence gently fades in an infinite cascade
Warm fraternal embrace of a blazing moon
Tension burst in darken moment made afraid.
Epic heartbeat tsunami waves break away.
We are filled with passion in beauty of poetry that is full of life.
Do we stay alive because of it?
Living is mocking the dead,
To dance while they rot instead,
Each breath that we take
Is a slap in the face
Cause living is mocking the dead.
Living is such a conundrum,
Every human that lives is a flawed one,
And we hardly deserve
Our time on this earth
So living is mocking the dead.
As the dead rest their bones in their caskets,
They are woken by the living’s loud racket,
And our machines scream
And we don’t stop to dream
And living is mocking the dead.
Because we live so we don’t have to die,
From cold bony fingers we pry,
Each gem and each Jewel
Bones make great fossil fuel
The living are mocking the dead.
We talk of the dead in hushed voices,
We secretly judge all their choices,
And the lessons we learn
We work hard to unturn
Living is mocking the dead.
Pigeons, being
Pigeons,
Inadvertently
Mock the dead
As does the passing
Stray dog.
If left alone
Children
Will play among them
Witnessed
By a murder
Of crows.
Mocking the dead,
the vampire on the hill, high
above the cityscape. Why
does his cloak wrap around?
It moves with a hissing sound,
blackened on the outside,
blue on the molten graveside.
Sharpening incisors on the crag,
but
the villagers with their worn rags
tight fisted with their goodly lights -
those lanterns, infused with salt
of garlic, compelled forward in the dead
of night. Mockers and murderers, fed
by rage, want to dispel the wine and bread.
Hell,
the strangulation of fire, lava rolling
down the hill. Mocking, laughter -
the shivering of the old church rafters.
The reborn, new creation, settled
on roof-blowing praise. Nettled,
old Nick, the vampire king unsettled.
Mocking the dead,
making his own bed, jutting at jugulars,
darkening the atmosphere, drawing
congregants, unholy. But, someone holy
has his heels on the vampire’s head.
He’s been banished…dead heads’ rolling.
The glorious light of the lamb, consoling.
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