She is a shadow of Delilah
Dancing on her own immoral desire
Sabotaged by her jealous urge
That puts her under siege to sin
Her heart a metallic object
Bound by the spirit of the attacked deer
Struggling to save herself
Battling with her hatred
Which devours all her strength and defense
She is an epitome of patience
Curved and patched inside her
Waiting for the resurrection of affection
And the coronation of a lasting union
Her eyes kill
Her lips seal
Her words heal
Slide, barrel, firing
My life expiring
Carve peace into a bullet so its the last thing on my mind
'Cause what remains in the sky is our stars misaligned
The shrapnel from the meplat dissects my insides
My emotional integrity, treat like it was Alcides
I submit to you my mag of hatred
You load your gun and leave me berated
The echoes of metallic disparage on the concrete
Discard the magazine, rest it on my grave and replete
Disengage the safety, make your grip pirouette
In my mind you're already dead, your ballade des
Your body slumps, no longer recepts, self-sabotaged
The thoughts of us never escaped your mind, constantly collaged
It's the 3rd of the month
An excellently important day
5 decades or so ago,
My parents made a little 'roll in the hay'
Tonight, I'm spoiling myself
Going out for dinner el solo
Down to my favourite local Bistro
For Salmon Wellington, Cab Sav and Gateau
Made sure I phoned ahead,
with 3 weeks to go
Booked a delicious pescatarian meal
And a table outside, on the patio
I arrived with a grin
And was shown to a shabby table inside
Served Beef Wellington, Sav Blanc,
And for dessert, a Mince Pie!
Why? What? How could this be?
I immediately called for the Chef
Oh Lanser, how could you get this so wrong
Have you recently gone stone deaf?
No! He said, in his monotone
And pulled from his pocket an email
You sent us this note just yesterday
Updating your culinary detail
But it wasn't... I didn't.... Who could it have been?
To know that I'd definitely be here
Someone who would sabotage my effulgent glory
And rob me of my cheer?
Then it dawned on me
Who sabotaged my favourite night
It was my horrible ex-wife
She's darn clever, evil and so full of spite
I am the village rooster.
One that crows in the city.
They said I belong to the upcountry.
Now the cities respect my name.
They said I am a village fool.
My reputation has gone afar.
They sabotaged my education.
Denying me government bursaries.
They said I will not make it.
Now a Doctor they call me.
They said I'm a child of the lesser.
But my God is not a lesser.
The one who splashed dirty water on me.
I lifted them this morning.
The one who denied me water at their gates.
I paid their dinner bill today
Time is just a factor.
Every roster shall crow.
I am the village rooster.
The one that crows in the city.
@Tha Formidable Cheru.
#themonk
You reap what you sow
But if it was sabotaged,
Will it really, ever grow?
I fail to understand how
The seedling I did plant now
Was decayed when it erupt
As if it had been fed cyanide, stead water.
I must face what has grown
And accept what has shown
It was planted with love
And it did not grow a trove
But a murky brown of the soil where it lay.
How, in fact, must I make way
For such a fact, I should dismay
That I sang to it all-day
And still, it did not display.
Now it is time to collect
All of which I have wrecked
Just like the time in effect
I have managed to affect
the plant which I did sow.
I sabotaged my eight-millimeter childhood.
I never knew Sartre
But I contorted my latex face,
Burying my nothingness in family films.
My child was scripted to be ugly, skipped over
In comic relief.
Only recognizable as Menoetius,
My only animation was insolence.
I believed nothing in myself,
I knew nothing.
I sought my masquerade in
Metaverse avatars,
Really just 2D analog shadows,
Swaying waves of gray on ashen tv tubes.
Without convictions, I was convicted.
My craven rudeness landed me
In squalid wreckage,
The debris of my dormant sea,
Forsaken a million or more times,
Rebuffed and scorned,
I succumbed to my dense exhaustion.
I shut down where sleep had no form,
Where space-time is an illusion.
Some hint of dream touched and aroused me.
Some anamnesis so much greater than any containment!
I awakened sweaty, wretched, and authentically flawed,
savoring the sudden phenomenal enigma,
Ready to learn the endless patterns
of all the passions and sciences.
Bubbly buxom belligerent beleaguered bouncy baboon
Managed to merrily meow making midnight’s mysterious moon
Irritated and incensed. She secretly and sadly sabotaged him too.
I am genuinely grateful and glad I missed this bouncy bit of badland blues.
A thief resides
in the blind spots
of my bruised
and battered
mind.
It whites out
joyous moments
and distorts
views of self
and the tone of
internal chatter.
It feeds
on clustered thoughts,
clogged emotions
and paper-mâché
smiles.
It mocks
my dreaded desire
for loneliness,
and thrives
on sabotaged plans
and poached opportunities.
It drowns my desire
in procrastinating
intentions.
Scribbled down
on epidermal lines
with sanguineous stained
blades
attempting to exhume
traces of solace.
Inevitably my enemy
gives birth to
psychomotor distortions
which rob me of
latitude
to prevent
my ambition’s
silent suicide.
You
Sat wherever you were
Spotted me breathing
Saw how happy I was
Scowled with jealousy
Slipped sputum with furry
Sed with an evil plan
Slithered all over surfaces
Scattered yourself everywhere
Spanned from arid to airborne
You
Set up an ambush
Sauntered into my body
Swam through my blood
Strolled in my bronchi
Slid into my cosy lungs
Slit my innocent throat
Slept conjugally inside
Started bearing children
Strangling was their game
You
Scrambled science facts
Suffocated the whole world
Squandered innocent lives
Snatched people's breaths
Separated friends from family fondness
Sabotaged their every touch
Some were fathers and mothers
Sons, daughters and breadwinners
Some were just about to
Spin things right for good
Since you are too blind
Seeing blindness is for your eyes
Sinning is your righteous act
Submerged in meanness
Sundays are the days you get
Sunday punches from you
Spray right in our faces
Spreading conspicuously
Soon you'll sing the nursery rhyme
'SEVEN DAYS MAKE A WEEK'
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.
sufficiently scrubbing
simple soap
strips stealthy virus’s
slick, lipid skin—
surfactants sending
sabotaged virus
slip sliding sewer bound!
Chateau Charlene pulled out all the pins today
Trying to watch Cheeky Wall fall.
Cheeky Wall has had too much experience
Showing the world her sassy, funny, hilarious side
Keeping our true feelings inside
As deep down as possible
Emotions are seething from Cheeky Wall
Into the grounds of Chateau Charlene right now
Like snakes, they slither toward her foundation,
Trying to crack it, reveal her secrets.
These two are in a magnificent love-hate relationship.
Each trying to sabotage
And take down the other
When the kingdom falls
Will the truth be revealed?
Person alert.
Smile on face?
Pretend light in eyes?
Happiness showing?
Depression and despair in the dungeon gurgles up
In a bowl of black snakes and dead pussy willow leaves.
I tamp them down
So no one knows
“Hi!” we say.
A bit too brightly.
Luckily no one
cares or even
notices.
there was no such thing as facebook
I used to keep a diary in my drawer
but everybody read my diary
and everybody saw, lol
they sabotaged my belongings
and they stole my favourite books
they took away my whisky
and they took away my looks
my room was not mine anymore
my privacy was gone
I put a lock upon my door and I kept the
key intact
I still have the key and its always there
and this is actual fact
the key is to my heart and all the things that matter
there is no room for all the trivial and the scatter
all the beauty, nice things to remember, things I wanted before
are always there, in moments of woe, just on the inside of my door ,
there is a chest so full of treasures, and wonderful things to keep
but, its safe inside my heart and now and then I love to peep
and all the things that mattered
all the good times iv had
for that is all to take with you in this life
and for that I will always be glad
You had it all
And screwed up bad
Your life took you
On a downward spiral
Out of control
Where no one could relate
Your demons are your own
Who could ever imagine
You had a chance at love
And screwed up bad
You sabotaged it
Never believing you’re deserving
One staggering victim left behind
Broken down on one knee
You screwed up bad
AP: 2nd place 2020
Posted March 4, 2019
Operation Enduring Freedom and the Purple Heart
The United States a country that thrives;
with strong men and women that are willing
to safeguard their loved country with their lives.
They march to a world that's unforgiving.
They never know how they will be received,
peaceful or with brash aim, long-dullness tire.
They're left vulnerable, sometimes deceived.
Confusion in front and rages inspire.
Underfoot the sounds of rock and gravel,
explosive bombs that have been camouflaged.
Towns and land, they travel to unravel.
The bolster morale being sabotaged.
Home wounded and marred, lack of confidence,
Purple Heart for a farewell performance.
1/16/2019
Poetry Contest: War Sonnet
Sponsored by: Mark Massey
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