In disingenuous defenseless dreams of the damned have wept
They awaken within sempiternal solitudes that they have slept
They're above all asseveration of tenacious tears they accept
For inside patricentric passage of time becomes illogically inept
The axiomatic assembly of manqué multitudes in pacifistic plight
Their damnation dorms of diversity desecrated upon a fatal finite
Humankind’s humility a harbinger of ritualistic recrudescent rite
And sorrowful sins syndicate with vigorous velocity and appetite
Their altruistic ambient soul tangled torn beyond comprehension
Desolate deprived within a deceitful delight of a demons detention
Isolated and audaciously abandoned onto the grasp of evil intention
May love levitate their tragic turmoil and align them with ascension.
...play the video first...then listen to the poem any time after that...
...Reprise from March.28.2018...
March.07.2020
Winged Warrior
Not for Contest
Categories:
recrudescent, destiny, silence, solitude,
Form: Rhyme
In disingenuous defenseless dreams of the damned have wept
They awaken within sempiternal solitudes that they have slept
They're above all asseveration of tenacious tears they accept
For inside patricentric passage of time becomes illogically inept
The axiomatic assembly of manqué multitudes in pacifistic plight
Their damnation dorms of diversity desecrated upon a fatal finite
Humankind’s humility a harbinger of ritualistic recrudescent rite
And sorrowful sins syndicate with vigorous velocity and appetite
Their altruistic ambient soul tangled torn beyond comprehension
Desolate deprived within a deceitful delight of a demons detention
Isolated and audaciously abandoned onto the grasp of evil intention
May love levitate their tragic turmoil and align them with ascension.
March.28.2018
Triple-A Challenge
Sponsored by: Robert Haigh
Placed 9'th
Categories:
recrudescent, discrimination, humanity, prejudice,
Form: Rhyme
The Madman’s Midnight
Tis death again, that flutters in my macrocosmic mind
We may know not when, but it is easy to feloniously find
We wait with flourishing fear for the madman’s midnight
We adjust to a nourishing sphere of a fetal fervent freight
All hope, distant dawns; love may not help us to escape
We are only pawns, incoherent of all recrudescent rape
Shadows fill the room, smoke the abominable abulic air
The hands of doom approaching the midnight sapid snare
~~~
No fixes for the crucifixes all must come to an egregious end
Triploids thru empty voids we all must accumulatively ascend
Our affinity questions divinity before the final hematic hour
There are no signs in the callow confines as we scurry to scour
No more time as we climb the stairways to heavens or hells
We decide where we hide and thus form secret schizoid shells.
Feb.14.2018
The doomsday clock 2 minutes to midnight
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Categories:
recrudescent, conflict, depression, solitude,
Form: Rhyme