Within my psychedelic psychosis divided by hell’s malignant mitosis,
Navigated by narcotized neurosis absorption through opiate osmosis…
Within my lunatic leverage of will, I needed to miraculously madly mill,
The negligent neurons of my ill amidst a faltering fragment of my spill.
My eyes that bear the bevel upon derelict distortions of a devious devil,
Laboring the leprous level of the seismic seizures that I neatly nestle…
In the abyss of my lacrimal laugh, I stand segmental with my satirical staff,
Decorative deceptions on my behalf as I stare at the world a genuine gaffe.
No real resolution to ponder for the quicksand of mind quivers yonder,
A sinkhole of a weeping wander amongst sacrifices of a slaving squander…
Thus in my sanctimonious seclusion within my catacombs of confusion,
The universe disperses diffusion along with programmatic parallel illusion.
June.06.2019
Eight Word Challenge
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Placed 5'th...Thank You
Withering wandering waves of a wasted will
The Nomad stands in solace within the silent still
Universal laws that lock and securely seal
Metaphorical minds that soon rebelliously reveal
Lachrymal light years that have gallantly gone
Pensive prisons meticulously molding a mortal pawn
Methodical madness mocking a soulless vessel
Where the deceived desiccated lie numbly nestled
A spirit stimulated by satiated slings and arrows
Barely escaping the narcotized narcissistic narrows
Vigilant valorous voids pleasingly passing through
To help distill the poisoned biotic bacterial brew
In the realms of the Nomadic turbulent tribes
Stands one alone with votive vibrational vibes.
June.08.2016
For Contest...
DISTANT THINGS...By John Lawless
Narcotized by her opiate nocturne
Electric my desires elevated
Her body a red velvet luxury
Crippled our bodies fell elated
Upon our skins moonlight peaked
Quite a golden climax to devour
Profound dissolving within sin
Passion sensually shaping the hour
Time may be fickle,
Refrained the night remains young
Though I can taste the minutes
Descendant from the sweltering sun
In sync may our bodies move
To human nature's mystic groove
And I am now to be contented and go to sleep
In your global village
Am I to believe your village can raise my child
Better than the old one
Where mortars pestle corn
And white cassava flour inthe sun
Lays naked to the eye
Looking at the flies with scorn.
This global thing will hype the young
Who chafes under the skin
Complaining that Nana Accompong talks too much
Who long to pull up roots
And stare the devil in the eye
Believing this nonsense that they are free
To do anything
While longing to be rich in misery.
Think You that I do hear the cry
Of the anomie
Bleating in the cold
Stripped like a soil
Of family, values eroded, washout
Disaster prone children
Frightened,
Narcotized on therapies
Profiting from commercial lies
That says it pays to advertise.
I could not close my eyes
While you are awake
Dipping your bread in my soup
After I washed your feet
Because I had no choice
My back growing trees that never fruit
Bleeding where there was no root
The incessant whipping of pain
Slivers of light in silver glee.
I will not sleep
Without a firm boundary
On which to dream.
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