Radiation Will Be The Judge To Which You Will Testify

Posts tagged “hate

Black Rain

Outside, in the splendor of nature,
A black rain falls
splattering crowds
shattering doubt
calming my will to run

When the rain falls, as it covers ground,
it covers my face,
dark rain shrouds me in secrecy
hiding my facial display,
even though its plain to see

When the black rain drops hit,
it will delay her realization,
that I am not worth her spit

Don’t you waste more hours,
mistake your hate for love and spring flowers
I won’t sing proud, this rain proves your flake
it proves my worth, or lack thereof

She waits around for me at a corner,
never knowing what folly awaits,
all that transpired,
mired and forgotten

Dare you to spit another insult,
cut into my vein like you wish you could
sometimes I wish you would
make that mistake

Giving us what we both want:
escapism, putting off the inevitable
warm friendly breath to protect from this downpour

But unlike you, this storm has been my home,
I refuse to leave it

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Heartburn

When she finally decides to throw me against a putrid gutter
I will have reaped what has been coming for years
Never did I feel that it belonged, two different puzzle pieces,
one, with razor sharp edges, which intersected and interjected the other, round and dull

My point of view barely extends beyond this second,
infinitely immersed in the only present visible
and all I can see is myself
cowering in a dark corner, where light cannot shower its contempt

I dive into a pool of my own thoughts, as always
remembering this was meant to be
I never deserved half an hour, much less a year
and now my faith dangles from the edge
and now my hatred spills across the floor into its own pool
forming my being

Soon, possibly sooner, I will finally reach that point,
where I always belonged, how it was always supposed to happen
sitting, again, alone, raped by my own self-composed silence
saturation in tacit lonliness
vapid voids which escape this
screaming defiance of truth

How much longer will this decrepit charade remain,
ignoring her heart and soul,
trying to exterminate my own in the process
leaving us both shattered

then, will I know true pain


A Call To Arms

A call to arms
standing naked amidst crowds
wielding death weapons and a cheapened stance in societies stratifying dissemination
From mouths in the sky,
depravity lets fly
violent shards of hatred and cynicism
Insistent diatribes, mythology that refuses to perish
Absent apologies they abuse and cherish
laying cold carrions at the feet of the heiress
Slander and Salacious, Trite agitprop screams from televised gun barrels,
loading up loaded words, goading the herds
causing foreboding when the status quo prevails, absurd
Words made of fissile material, composing the most minute elements together
forming the ultimate tool of terror,
shot across the sky, into cold territory again
The sick, illicit onslaught continues, a manufactured farce of morbidity
digging under the cutaneous layers of destitute and dilapidated livestock
coaxing fire of anger,
mire of rage
dire consequence, leading forlorn to torn graves
born slaves, chained to imperial fantasy
pleading to ethereal, concealing their zeal
no more healing to feel, when cannon balls plummet from the heavens
This usurpation has been tolerated for far too long
Death by state is too wrong

Intangible Sensibility

The goddess of Platinum hides behind curtains
masking her desires from the court
enclosing her heart from all that watch, encasing it within her halls of plywood

Although underneath her cutaneous layers, there lies a soul that thirsts for more
a voice that begs for passion
try as she might to diminish its volume

Her feelings not soluble in lakes of savages
still she holds to the vial, walking every mile
waiting for her knight to come for the ravaging

It is so much my style, waiting for her rescue,
debating whether late-night restricted phone calls are her begging
to be saved, or to deprave another

It might have been wasted, to drink from rivers
passion stemming from the flow like the hoover dam
if i could just move her hand,damn
wishing I could go back to when it rained
transacting my will to go on for a will from the past
at times i don’t know who’s out classed out
seeing pictures clearly because I never drink enough to pass out
and still feeling is brash
her image seared in my brain, her whisper to abstain

faint mystery
tainted clause
maybe someone just knows more of her sainted flaws
and i would even put up blatant calls

Her hair still shining in the spring
silently opining, trying to decipher what shes designing
running through mental waves dominating waiting for the temple slave
no whining, but why would I fail at realization
sometimes people are pushed to the point of zeal and I’m rationed

No longer can I congeal in such fashion
using passion as a tart crutch, but she knows i can fashion a rolled finely like i was 3 parts dutch

one gaze from her takes away
drawbacks of gravity chaining all as slaves,
she grants inertia to passive knaves
and her class would amaze

orbitals remain wide
even if she wants to break pride
or lake glide

she could entice
anyone to train ride…


Returning to the burned pastures

Barren lands that lay before me tremble, they
know what is coming, beliefs held in grasp,
locked away in casks and flasks underground, reeling
Submerging from the depths, with hands as my weapon of choice,
never knowing whether it will bring me through another minute,
a quotient for survival,
Once again, repeating my used-up, recycled words again:
it is amazing,
earth-shattering,
and unbelievable how
close love lays against pure unadulterated hatred
Five minutes is more than enough,
torture under the hotlamp glares of a womans putrid scorn
Walk along my benches,
for unrelentless battery,
mental forethought compared with civil unrest and savagery,
Watch how this mammal mistreats its supposed equal,
saliva dripping down its face, stewing
in vapid guilt,
taking splendor in the destruction of my self-centered production
I am pushed into the corner by,
the one who claims to care
From the lips i once kissed,
now spews only the vitriole of true, motivated soldiers
 ready for the breakdown of consciousness and non-salvation
Wow, turned away again,
did not surprise my shoes, which walk the paths along with me,
thanking them for staying connected to me, if only by cotton, nylon and polyester
I have learned, through tribulations that might seem futile and frivalous,
but i would dare one to attempt it and then repeat the blasphemy that,
I am my own best friend
I have ten fingers that utilize the pain and force it into tangibility
My ten toes fight alongside
Not cowering to your continued callousness
I love my skin more than i will ever love you, or ever have
MY skin protects me from your sewage and situations
an epidermal armor that stratifies relation,
degradation,
and the omniprescence of manipulation,
So many dead-end ultimatums,
so much hot, wasted air,
So much time burned into the glass of the hour,
all the sand, on every beach imaginable,
could be melted, reshaped, blown, thrown, flown,
to places in the outer solar system, unknown,
and it still wouldn’t wipe away the dirt from your actions
Loving myself is so much more envigorating,
to preserve all that i have left,
and to shun the frivality of the rest of your days,
refused to allow it unto me,
Count the freckles on my spine,
each one, a goodbye to you,
farewells of what little fun did happen,
you are now forgotten,
my purpose not yet found,
                                        and still basking in your humiliation