Short Sadists Poems

Fiercely, darkly burn
As wolves howl and sadists yearn
Dark seduction learn....

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Someday. In old age.
My well-being will be in the hands of: 
Underpaid cutters and x-addicts 
serial texters and sadists
tide pod eaters-assorted derelicts
the odd minister, 
lost Christmas carolers...

I pray to remain somewhat fit....

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My Charms disarmed, a panic alarm-
A Signal that something's wrong
Oh, how I fear I'll fall to harm,
And question where I belong

All the talk, their root and stalk
Grows in Sadists' soil
We planted seeds in wicked weeds,
And were fruitful with our toil
Alerted, deserted; no method asserted-
While vile vines uncoil!...

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Madly 
but above madness
I rant against dirty light
  as I stumble into obscurity.

There’s no rest for the leery.
No escape hatch in sight.
No rescue from inhuman cacophony.
Solitude exhales dust--
  inhales dark vacuum.

The sadists laugh
as I tumble into burning horizons,  
awaiting a rendezvous
   with a nameless Whatever.

...

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War to go
One scream away
From murder
Art done right 
Never to fight
Conscience of convenience
Sand blind cold boots pant rash hair clay mud pies
Resident sadists social decay
Where there are no truths and no lies
Foot soldiers claim
Their genocide bouquet
When one of the greatest stays 
Gives people time to escape
You already can guess his fate...

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Sinners are winners,
and vice-versa

Killing the willing
and you don’t wash your hands

Doing bad ‘cause you’re sad
such bulls***, I say

We are sadists and masochists
just because we like to be

Practicing pain in bloodstains
on your carpet of lies

Sexing and hexing
is all wicked fun

What a shame is life’s game
but I just can’t stop
Living....

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Teargas is bottled oxygen
The genius who invented it
should be sanctified as saint
for bringing new form of air

the ones who use it on duty
are heartless angels of happiness
they bring joy to those starved
sadists in this world can laugh

teargas is new bottled oxygen 
that the powerful supply freely
the privileged poor get it by force
to stop them from complaining

Teargas, teargas your  creator
must be adored while on knees...

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They talk about heaven
And life after death.
Ignorant, ironically
Of living instead.

They mutter about hell
And what lies beyond
Suffering every day
Sadists, all along.

For once someone told me
How moksha could be found
Tis "Living in the moment"
"Rooted to your ground"

I look around and wonder
How many of us do?
"Live in the moment"?
Or embrace the truth?

The truth that we deny
With all mighty disgrace
Heaven and hell to dissemble
In this evil masquerade....

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