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Abandoned to sadistic streets,
A school room of sullen tears,
A little girl lost beneath
A blanket of rejection and fears
Civil Wars, World Wars
Mass Killings, Killing Fields
War is inevitable
Eyes color blind shut irritating to light
Egoistic visions blurring the brain,
Deter the mind appreciate the virtues
In others, in surrounding environs;
The only way i am truly at peace is when i watch the blood flow
dark, thick, warm & flowing, even gushing
from my arms or the throat of another
relieving the pain for now
Like mimicking feelings of
Love with empty souls,
What kids are watching on telly
are crimes and crimes in all variety!
The soil which we plant our seeds
beautifully dangerous, remarkable creatures
strangely complicated, a delicate rare breed
shelters, nurturers, the definition of strength and warmth
It can be in the roll of the dice - oh happy day! ! !
As in, perhaps, more than one address...
Anyway you look - it is a huge gamble...
When speaking of Pamela and this filthy mess;
Have you ever walked on a sea of sand?
And thought it broken glass?
Have you left your heart in a barren land?
And be haunted by the past?
Through her obvious and smug delight of face
We see through her sheer floral embroidered lace;
She is still such a true sadistic fool
Unsound & unwound - her thread bearing spool;
Crimson eyes awaken,
as the smell of blood arouses,
I lie in turmoil wondering what has been,
yet I already know.....
Common sense has taken it's leave - it seems
The brazen have lost all self control...
Shooting their poison arrows into our face's
With the continuation of an EVIL witches role;
She is that seed,
which bore this humongous tree, and,
also the keeper who drained out her riches to all;
And we awarded her with blames of providing less.
That's what I call the ones like you
That's sick. So disgusting. How can she? Why would she?
All those demonic tattoo's up and down her arms. A pentagram displayed as a portrait on her entire back. How did a lady like this even come to be?
The strength one can draw from the negativities from other's is wonderfully sadistic. So artistic. I would have it no other way.
Her mind is a twisted mass of 'steel grey'
Some who know her say that she is quite peculiar
Her surroundings are embellished in mud and grime
It is her fervent aim to be a supreme ruler;
If you be a hunter,
Besides being good marksman,
One needs sportsmanship.
Born for necessity
Born for another’s greed. Another’s need
Stuck here now in limbo
Hating me. Hating you
Chimera knows about the dark side of the moon
Chimera knows many incantations
Chimera knows evil like the back of her hand
Chimera knows sadistic and savagery raise her
I no longer wish to be the drug taker
I want to become the drug maker
The pharmacist to your chemical dreams
Love never creates cages
Love never hinders the growth
Love by it's way is cute and clear
Simple and serene.....
There are certain kinds of people you simply can't write poems about.
A certain nerve of inauthenticity, or perhaps even whole cell-filed of
something fraudulent and so profoundly and obviously untrue, is trig-
gered in your mind: like a mine-field it becomes so fast, like game has
I so thought that that was over - so many years ago.
I thought that I had survived it-not exactly victored over
it but I survived it. I survived. I did not think that it would
be back to aggress and reafflict again. But this time I
I am not going to pretend to be what i know I am not.
Yes, it is a temptation. And perhaps even a thrilling sensation.
But to make my identity about only a lie, to be that cruel
and sadistic and narcissistic is something I can not
And the stronger my secrets became, and the more sublimely and outrageously
their factor of miracles became, the more they competed with sadistic aggression
and destructive avengement and traumatic afflict.
Be careful. When you're not around, they treat your
children terribly. Your men, your army of men, I have
seen them treat your children terribly: leaving them in
cars without an adult in parking lots, stomping them as
This was a long time ago but I think about the situation everyday.
And I write this out of an exploration, a discovery to understand what it
was that I shudda say. What I could have said to not have endedup essentially
dead. Reflecting on this instance nearly thirty five years ago. Strangely the
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