Easy to entrance the sycophants watch their helpless dance their back and forth swaying and swooning, in cunnilingual somniloquence.
Droning and drooling with flattering and fawning, turgently swelling, spouting placating pleasantries, a mess of gushing adulation.
Self exultation, craving congratulation by consensus for another conventional sensation, clamouring for congratulation in lurid inflated infatuation.
Curtailing castigation, striving in strides as pedestrian asperation gives rise to typical inspiration, stillted it saunters soulessly, provoking predicable platitudes.
Dreary dedication denoting the humdrum and the ho-hum, tirelessly tiring, offering effortlessly banal bestowments bequeathing a tepid tranquillising testimonial.
Uniform, unchanged, unilateral applause, amplifying abysmal analogies, articulating dearth depictions of derivative denotations.
Cryptic quips collapse carelessly caused by cumbersome correlating contradictions, deviating detrimentally forth fatuous flutterings.
Stale sentiment, sterile superfluous suppositions, garishly guilded in grandure,
Repetitious rudimentary ruminations, repackaged and retold.
He starts with the natural order of things,
thinks
wash bedsheets,
been pushing chores aside -
that's just natural.
Done with saccharine,
from now on
teaspoonful of honey
at least until
the year-old jar
stops oozing.
Corn flakes gone stale,
the days fall out of sleep
way sooner than they should,
and that's hard to do - naturally.
Order comes and goes.
Mold grows blue bread
nothing last as long as fungus.
It's the predicable
that catches him unawares.
Nature chugs along,
small birds stop singing by noon,
maybe he forgot to hear them,
natural orders arrange
his face
for all the foreseeable day
then bored with its cosmic game -
leaves him alone.
The van idles: inside its cage
she hops like a starling
from dashboard to counter.
Lady seer, shuffling the motley,
the significant and trivia.
revealing now, the stamped
and foreseeable.
A flick of her wrists
between each numbered box -
we open that tin mouth,
reach in hesitantly, for bolts out of the blue,
or just news from predicable snails.
I Am Wind
I am the wind,
The roar of my soul fills your head,
I am a whirl wind that blows through the cracks in your heart,
I am a restless first breeze of Spring,
That ripples over grass and skin,
I am the still and content breath of summer,
Breath me in and be filled with relief,
I am the un-predicable brilliance of Fall,
I touch the leaves and send them spirally downward,
I am the first bite of winter to which you put up your collar and turn your back,
I am the cyclone of emotion and furry of confusion
hat rips at the walls and rattles the windows,
I am the breeze that flows smoothly through the grasp of those
who try to hold me or control me,
I scatter your seeds to the four corners,
I am the wind,
The roar of my soul fills your head,
I change direction and disappear ….
A broken promise, demoralized man who is incapable of being true,
A thoughtless coward, oblivious clown, this is what I think of you,
A woeful chicken, a runaway guy is how you're now portrayed,
A selfish critter, a prideful morsel is the reputation you have made,
When flesh spoils in a slaughter house the smell of you comes to mind,
For your manipulation has made you completely colorblind,
In your mothers soil you were the bad seed,
As you grew up we realized you were just a weed,
A fragmentation, with no revelation is who you really are,
A scab that stopped healing, the beggar who keeps on stealing, now just another scar,
A predicable cycle, a sick little mess, a hidden agenda that isn’t well dressed,
A miserable liar, disposable fool, too bad you weren’t like an infertile mule,
Just like a wolf, you would consume your own,
For apparently humanity was something you were never shown,
Just like wild animals that abandon their first litter,
You fit right in, you unoriginal quitter.
By: Sabina Nicole
Written:9/29/11
Contest:Angry
It’s as predicable as the sun rising and setting
The words of weapons passing by my tongue
Perhaps its what I see in myself
Mirrored from my past childhood of discontentment
Although I’ve always thought I was trying in my strangest way
To wish away the demons that plagues your thinking
You must know I didn’t purposely try to bruise your heart
What have I done to separate our bond?
Now we thrush away the protected layers
Leaving the raw form there in the open
Traumatized and bleeding
I see now the mess I’ve made; can I mend your pain?
You’re my heart my soul my purpose for living
I bear the consequences on a daily basis
Hidden away like a restless child with torn fingernails
I dwell in the disappointment from my Mother
Knowing all I wanted to do was be better
I’m regretful please accept my apology
I love you!
Mom
From around the corner
a saddened face
From generations passed
It's left, it's trace
Why was this a way of life?
now came poor rearing, tearing and strife
Words were made to be weapons
And then
Physical pain and wounds that bleed
left little to no affection received
This sickness was passed about
The damage was done
leaving you lonely and wanting to shout
Screaming voices that come to rise
the ever-predicable time, she always apologized
Stone looks in her eyes
See this trauma through your child’s eyes
Fearful nights
Hidden Embarrassment
And all her lies and harassment
Now you’re gone and left this earthly place
You left behind a battered child
in it’s place.
So now this child has become a woman
She married and had a child
and yes, her past left her riled
But she made a choice to break the mold
To stand up and make her story told
And she leaves behind all the abuse
Between her and her child there lives a truce.
( this poem was written to share my life experiences with those that can relate,
and to say you can do it differently)
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