I tremble before you, my vying emotion
I thought I could be loved with complying emotion
My mirror used to love my sight
there is no more of that undying emotion
Neglect tore at me, scattering me into shards
This whole life of mine is fragmented by self-denying emotion
Love is what you give away
To anything but my trying emotion
If you came back it'd be too late-
You permanently left the scar of dying emotion
BEFORE HE DID ANYTHING
THEY FOUND WORDS TO
DESCRIBE HIM
BEFORE HE SOUGH LOVE
THEY SAID WHY HE AS A MAN
WASN'T MAN ENOUGH
FOR THOSE HE WISHED TO BE WITH
BY THE TIME THEY WISHED TO
ADJUST THEY SAW NEITHER
HIM AS A PERSON OR HIM
AS AN INDIVDAUL
ONLY HIM AS A MEMBER OF A GROUP
THE WHINEY ONE HIM WHO COULDN'T
AND HE WOULDN'T BE ABLE TO ACHEIVE
BECAUSE THEY WOULD
MAKE IT SO, THAT HIS INDIVDAUL EFFORDS
WOULD BE HINDERED BY THOSE
WHO WISHED HIM UNLOVED
AND UNADORED
ONE EVEN SPOKE OF THEIR UNDOING
SO THAT THOSE ACHEIVMENTS WOULD BE
LIKENED TO THOSE OF AN UNLIKELY
PERSON OF FILTH AND SCUM
FROM WORDS BY.....
ARKCODEZ " THE SOUTH BOSTON FLUTIST" DELGRIN
FROM THE WORKS OF HUSSY, BASHER THE MAN HATER!
A ghost truth
levels down,
the traffic. You enter
into catatonic stage.
Rage and anguish
will ask,
for the price of blood
flown down the river.
Listening
with the eyes. Leaffall,
luteus, music of descent
on grass.
A dust storm
settles on sill. I will
look through the window, at
a setting sun, unadored.
Satish Verma
They shared their wine in grief to hear
The homage of the day
One giant dead, all others cast in fear
Their mischief moon gray
Spun and weave each spite with venom
For I the acme, and the languished sum.
What glitter there are splinters that lure
Earth's eyes to see a star
And toxic fumes that broiled wraths pour
To deepen love's jagged scar
I fled them all in distate and gloom, bored
With regret, the chaff meanders unadored.
O look ye, the white sail that steeds the sky
Quest the blue doldrums: stills,
For golden fleece of gentle love to brim the eye
And merged surrendered wills.
Had I wanted less the Philistines should cease
And choosing none the saber whittles its peace
But I cannot wear what Achan stole, or keep
The splinters glisten for light
Those alone who fables sow must only reap
The barren clouds of night
The wine that shallow camaradrie makes, I spit
Unbowed, strong, my voyage too stocked to quit.
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