March 11, 2017 · 2:32 pm
Jean-Léon Gérôme
How Much
–
Fukushima Was the Beginning Of the End,
the Radiation Seeping Into Our Oceans;
Causing Mutations & InSanity;
From Fish to Man.
Driving Them to Feast On the UnInfected;
a World Damned.
I Still Dream Of the Food Riots,
When we Could No Longer Eat From the Sea.
the Crashing & Burning of Cities;
Parents Eating Kids.
Cops Going Door to Door
Rounding People Up For the Cattle Camps,
the Old & Sick Shot
& Cooked In the Street.
How I Survived Still Mystifies,
aLone & Not One Friend;
All Ways Running,
Running For the Hills.
So Many Things Have I Done
& the Things I Know I Will Do
Just To Survive Another Setting Sun.
How Many Lives Must I Take
to Pay For Mine.
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as Alone, Another, Beginning, Burning, Camps, Cattle, Cattle Camps, Causing, Cities, Cooked, Cops, Crashing, Damned, Done, Door, Dream, Driving, Eat, Eating, End, Feast, Fish, Food, Food Riots, Friend, Fukushima, Hills, How, How Much, Insanity, Jean Léon Gérôme, Kids, Lives, Man, Many, Mine, Much, Must, Mutations, Mystifies, Not, Oceans, Old, One, Parents, Pay, People, Prose, Radiation, Riots, Rounding, Running, Sea, Seeping, Setting, Setting Sun, Shot, Sick, So, Still, Street, Sun, Survive, Survived, Take, UnInfected, World
May 9, 2016 · 1:24 am
Howard Pyle
Rocks
–
This Is
Not
my Eulogy
Fool
This Dirge
Is For
you
a Song
I Sing
As
the Worms
Eat
Their Food
Laughing
At
the Thought
This Was
Supposed
To Be
my Box
Nothing
but Rocks
Soon
It Will
Be you
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as B27321, Box, Dirge, Discord, Eat, Eulogy, Food, Fool, Freedom, Harbinger, Howard Pyle, Laughing, Not, Nothing, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Revolution, Rocks, Sing, Slavery, Song, Soon, Supposed, Thought, Will, Worms, Wyrd
January 25, 2016 · 8:52 pm
Speculum Virginum
Temptation
Tempted to Eat the Gun
Every Day
That I a Wake
To the Slum
That Is my Life
To End
That Which
Should
Never
Of Begun
A Mistake
That Makes
me Regret
Who I am
Born to Be
Cast a Side
Left to Die
But I Did Not
Nor
the Many Times
I Threw my Life On the Line
to See
If In Side
Was Real or Fake
I Struggled On
Dreaming Of Steel
to End my Twisted Fate
Wait you Say
Before It Is Too Late
Surely It Is Just Testing
a Crucible
to Bake
a Better Man
That Has to Be the Plan
40 Years of Prison & Pain
of Loss & Never a Gain
& Only I to Blame
Puts That Lie to Shame
When the Entertainment Stops
& It’s Just me
& my
Hollow Hollow Heart
a Hole That I Can Not Stop
Nor Look a Way
From
the Empty Spot
That Captivates me
With What I am Not
my Biggest Sin
Thinking
the Singing Pen
Would Save me From my Plate
a Meal Hard to Swill
Full of Bitterness & Hate
Set In Verse
to Be Read
After
They Pull me From the Hearse
the Ink was Thin
Iron For the Win
to Blot a Way the Stain
That Was my Name
From the Book of Eternal Life
This 38 Will Be my Wife
Her Leaden Kiss
Wedded Bliss
& a Sweet Here After
So you Say
What a Play
If Only a Helping Hand Was Offered
#B27321
–
Filed under Prose
Tagged as 38, 40, After, B27321, Bake, Before, Begun, Better, Biggest, Bitterness, Blame, Bliss, Blot, Book, Born, Can, Captivates, Cast, Crucible, Day, Die, Discord, Dreaming, Eat, Empty, End, Entertainment, Eternal, Fake, Fate, Freedom, From, Full, Gain, Gun, Hand, Harbinger, Hard, Hate, Hearse, Heart, Helping, Her, Here, Hole, Hollow, In, Ink, Iron, Just, Kiss, Late, Leaden, Left, Lie, Life, Line, Look, Loss, Makes, Man, Many, Me, Meal, Mistake, Name, Never, Nor, Not, Offered, Only, Pain, Pen, Plan, Plate, Play, Poetry, Prison, Prose, Pull, Read After, Real, Regret, Revolution, Save, Say, See, Set, Shame, Side, Sin, Singing, Slavery, Slum, So, Speculum Virginum, Spot, Stain, Steel, Stop, Stops, Struggled, Surely, Sweet, Swill, Temptation, Tempted, Testing, They, Thin, Thinking, Threw, Times, Twisted, Verse, Wait, Wake, Was, Way, Wedded, What, When, Who, Wife, Will, Win, Wyrd, Years
September 27, 2015 · 3:23 pm
Howard Pyle
Disturbing Dreams
–
Disturbing Dreams;
Things I Have Seen,
Since Falling In With This Crowd.
Surely It Has Been;
Lack of Sleep,
Little to Eat.
Going On Three Weeks,
a Binge It Seems.
Ruined Estate,
Over Grown Fields;
a Forest That Screams Leave me a Lone.
I Know It Has to be One of you Sick Fucks.
The Only Demons Are In my Head
&
the Day Light Shows Only Trees.
Only me;
you,
&
Her,
Left;
It Has to be
One of the Three.
–
Taken From
the Private
Journals
of #B27321
Last Son
of a
Fallen Line
–
Filed under Posts
Tagged as B27321, Binge, Crowd, Day, Day Light, Demons, Discord, Disturbing, Disturbing Dreams, Dreams, Eat, Estate, Fallen, Fallen Line, Fields, Forest, Freedom, From, Fucks, Grown, Harbinger, Head, Howard Pyle, Journals, Know, Lack, Last, Last Son, Leave, Left, Light, Line, Little, Lone, One, Only, Over, Over Grown, Poetry, Prison, Private, Private Journals, Revolution, Ruined, Ruined Estate, Screams, Seems, Shows, Sick, Sick Fucks, Slavery, Sleep, Son, Surely, Taken, Three, Three Weeks, Trees
October 12, 2014 · 7:54 pm
Gustave Dore
As the
Sun
Rises
I Dream
of Days
When
Satisfaction
Could be
Gained
In the
Street
you
&
I
would Meet
Blood
would Flow
&
your
Head
would Roll
a Sorry
Treat
For the
Dogs
to Eat
&
me
On my
Merry
Way
With Out
a Stain
On the
Name
#B27321
–
Filed under Posts
Tagged as B27321, Blood, Days, Discord, Dogs, Dream, Eat, Flow, Freedom, Gustave Dore, Harbinger, Meet, Merry, Name, Poetry, Prison, Revolution, Roll, Satisfaction, Slavery, Sorry, Stain, Street, Sun, Treat, Way
