Tag Archives: victory

anatomical dissection: brain

what hurts more,

remembering to forget

or forgetting to remember?

.

you count all the wins

and all the pyrrhic losses

that take your victories under

.

what hurts more,

the scars on your shoulders

or the scars inside your mind?

.

invisible to the naked eye

but a succumbing force that

makes you lose what you’ll find

.

what hurts more,

staying for the sake of leaving

or living for the sake of staying?

.

lock the pain up in your room

and hope this house burns down

with you still trapped inside, crying

.

what hurts more,

all the words that they said

or the words you never spoke?

.

sticks and stones don’t break bones

but splints and cement puts them back

quietly mending what you always broke

.

what hurts more,

knowing too much of everything

or drowning in your own ignorance?

.

scourge for knowledge, miss for bliss

drain the oceans and fill up the abyss

self-hatred fighting your self-defiance

.

what hurts more,

this cold logical ideology

or the lying sentimental truth?

.

it’s a constant push and pull

of devastating dreams and riled reality

inspiring like the rabbit inspires the wolf

.

what hurts more,

overthinking things again

or not thinking about it at all?

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Nameless Nemesis

The sticks and the stones that
You used to throw have
Built me an empire, so don’t even try
To cry me a river, ’cause I forgive you
You are the reason I still fight…

~*~

Wicked witch of the West

The egotistical red queen

Captain Hook, grimy pest

A slimy dream saccharine

.

The acrid poison you spit

Methanes on your tongue

The cold toxic you secrete

Shall be your bad outcome

.

On your charmless veneer

Tortured dark sensibilities

In distasteful doses of fear

A lost cause for humanities

.

You scar me and mar me

With penchant for defeat

Bore holes past my skull

Lay hellfire upon my feet

.

Degrade my capabilities

To reject my testimonies

You think you’re glorious

And quite sanctimonious

.

But your haunting words

Shall revert to your curse

Your reign upon the world

Will crumble and disperse

.

And I’ll be standing strong

Wayward heart and thorns

Raise a sword upon the air

Victory cheer ringing clear

.

Your armies of sticks, stones

Shall add to build my throne

My wounds, burnt-up bones

Shows I survived your scorn

.

Soon you’ll be homely crushed

Banished to a bleak underland

Devoured by ravenous reptiles

Vanish with a flick of the wand

.

But dear, no need to beg and grovel

A chagrin hapless irrefutable defeat

After all, your karma, it’s never well

You are the reason why I still believe.

~*~

So you can throw me to the wolves!
Tomorrow I will come back
Leader of the whole pack
Beat me black and blue!
Every wound will shape me
Every scar will build my throne.

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Go On and Give the World a Show

1.) Your mind is boiling bleeding bending screaming and that motherfucker is doing nothing but saving your watercolour tears in a crystalline vial and using it to paint your evocative portrait in his dollar store canvas.

2.) Your heart is cursing complaining coronary sedating and those bastards are doing nothing but taking your severed arteries for the next transplant performance to entertain surgeons, scaramouches, and curious sickos.

3.) Your soul is pulsing pirouetting paralysing sacrificing and this asshole is doing nothing but pasting your flattened cardboard spine into an unused oak guitar and singing hypocritically about his next hit tragedy.

4.) You are woeful whimsical winning simply synesthetic and the critics did nothing but make you infamous and indomitable as you rose against their vehement volatile tidal waves and triumphantly held your billowing flag on the blue moon.

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Filed under Prose

Viva La Liberación

Arrogant invigoration of the man who held the nation

Aids, abets his information down the line of desperation

Holds the skies of bluest azure, paler than his sickly pallor

Wasting into silent terror, desecrate the florid colours

Forbid the likes of perversement, thought he ought to make a statement

But his lucky stars were all spent, can’t even pay for his own rent

And that man and his ambitions foolishly went for sedition

Lines of war and pure corruption, blame the mass for veneration

One can take the greed no longer, and their army’s growing stronger

Firestorms burning on the water, chaos ruling for the better

Pedestals fall for injustice, sycophants crawl for their service

Triumph sounds a trumpet solstice, as they take back what wasn’t his

Veterans of civilian spars admiring victory from afar

As the flag upright ceased the war and smiles arose from bloodied scars

Arrogant false desperation for the man who broke the nation

Yet fear not his litigation, for we hold our liberation.

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An Epitaph For The Celestial Marching Mercenaries Of The Final Apocalypse

The pious mercenary calling

Ivory halos bent and broken

Freedom, they were waging

With the price of lives stolen.

~faded tombstone inscription

~*~

The hooves came thundering one day, the pale blue horizon turned a foreboding scarlet

As four harbingers arrived, doing damage and causing War, Famine, Pestilence, and Death

The Ultimate Evil broke free from his fettered state, rose in power from the chains and ashes

The end was nigh, anarchy was high, until the skies opened up, and down flew the mercenaries

.

The immaculate mercenaries have come dawning upon our land today

Creating silent storms with their inexorable wings of pure liquid gold

Iridescent forms, fragile butterfly swords dipped in the blood of God

Legends from the end of a century troubadours failed to have foretold

.

Sheaths unravelling and suspended upon the silken strings of calling

Fundamental foundations on which this warring viridian planet o’er lay

For these cavalier soldiers fought and rallied against the stars falling

And saved restless cadavers from treason and potential further decay

.

Celestial hierarchy in motion, choirs of cherubim, seraphs, archangels

Sanctity of the war, exhibition like the clashing forces of moon and sun

White robed guardians arched in a delicate art of finesse, even in battle

Against the austerity of chthonic snarling demons, caliginous as they run

.

An empire of clattering bones and dripped silvery blood and carnage

Ashes choking the northeast breeze along with static crepuscular image

Stones cast whereupon heroes and kings once toasted glass in victory

The tainted lights of the sunset in a thousand days of a darkened glory

.

Holy weapons disintegrating the darkness, wield halos and hand grenades

Line after line of fiends are struck down, interlocked in a contrite parade

In the black and white of the opposed legions, thus occurred a stalemate

It seemed, for just a scintilla moment, that the better had won in this state

.

Yet when the eleventh hour struck, the stained battlefield was wrought

Half the army has gone to waste, and the other half left to fled for good

One survived, a lone figure in brutal combat, the shadows it still fought

Feathers plucked clean raining like hail, yet still, he relentlessly stood

.

Staring upon the paramount beast, standing drenched, shivering in turbid Stygian waters

Looking headlong into his glaring chaotic eyes, mocking, cackling, loathing splattered

A singular hope surged upon his severed veins, energy by grace of God’s dissemination

And with a last leap of faith and roar, he dashed past with broken wings to finish the book of revelation

.

The final frontier has been appended, and the end is a pyrrhic victory with irreparable losses

A defended vengeful side for an unknown singular cause, cost total obliteration to the masses

A valley of casualties lain like a tainted painting, from which artists dare not lay upon the canvas

With the sun burnt out, an frigid winter blanketed Gaia, and Elysium’s throne waited empty, alas!

.

Unsure of who gained the upper hand in this ordeal, a semblance of Heaven and Hell’s last swan song

In pace requiescat, a whisper carried by the last wind, bereft and morose, onto the gales forlorn and strong

And tet all that remains of this violent sordid affair is torn fragments of a yellowing parchment

Yet I tell this tale now, eulogy writ in my own quill and liquid; and I shall raise a glass, a spirit for the spirits

.

So lay a crimson rose in the graves of the bravest men, the fallen comrades, the stalwart mercenaries

Those loyal divine battalions who left paradise to purvey zealous souls against obstreperous enemies

Future hope woebegone, and may they rest in peace forevermore, for they have died, yet not completely in vain

I write this final epitaph for my beloved lost children, may their bold hearts ascend back to the kingdom of heaven once again.

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Secret Demons and Selfish Denominations

~*~

HIVE MIND

There’s a dull buzzing, lull sounding, full echoing, cruel deafening roaring in my head

And a constant stinging, a tortured poking at my paining temples, I wish that I was dead

There’s a strange rattle as I move, and huh, funny, my orifices are dripping rancid honey

I wonder what I did now to disturb and make the wasps and bees inside my apiary head angry.

~*~

KICKED IN THE TEETH AGAIN

The dark cavities are like a black hole, sucking up all the numbness of my thin-lipped mouth

Try as I might, my forced candy sweet smile just falls flat, turns into a sour Warhead pout

Tongue lolling, head rolling, shooting glances, the camera flashes, now please, say cheese!

And it is just another forceful kick directed and landed hard against my already-missing teeth.

~*~

MISINTERPRETED ART

My squalid fingers are constantly twitchy, and the anxiety’s buckling my knobbly knees

My hands are livid shaky, my sheer sanity wobbly, I can’t finish my ultimate masterpiece

I aimed for Da Vinci’s breathtaking creations, but instead got a ruined Pollock mixed with Picasso

And there’s a mud puddle of oily grey in the tainted canvas, symbolising how my muddled thoughts flow.

~*~

V FOR VICTORY

A tingling flicker and switch, trembling limbs fiddle with their own unraveling stitch

Say a last prayer naysayers, can you feel that inhaled oxygen collectively hitch?

Candles lit and double fingers raised on the count of two, a vigil of change I pursue

Though whether its peace or anarchy I signal with my hands, I am unsure which one is true.

~*~

CHOKING HUMANITY

Suppressed emotions that I try my very best to choke back like my bitter unpalatable prescribed pills

Lay my eyes upon my bloodstained shoes and never look up, past the ground and beyond the hills

I implore, prick my desensitised skin and thick skull with needles to prove that I am, in fact truly still alive

And not just some abstract ideology, a useless breathing bag of meat and bones constructed on godless lies.

~*~

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Last Man Standing

She could feel the bitter ashes floating in her tongue

The taste of the recently-deceased, and those long gone

As she stood in the ruins of what used to be her home

Staring at what used to be her perfect world, now a shattered dome

The last living human, a hollow victory

Surely heaven had to be nonexistent to allow this cruelty.

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