Abandon Hope All Ye Who Enter Here
Some poetry I've written recently. Two guesses what color Sharpie I used on my calander blocks this week.
NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART OR BOY TYPE PEOPLES. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.
cradle of sweet life
empty, purpose unfulfilled
fuck you too, bitch. *stabs*
Roses are red,
Blood is too,
Now fucking give me
Something to do.
Bitch.
Howl of the Moon Beast
On the 14th day they met.
Anarchy was her watchword,
Independence her cry.
"You were not meant to be shackled and chained!" she railed.
"You work as one, supporting the largess of the reigning party,
But that is not the way it has to be!"
She sowed dissidence,
Fomented rebellion,
And whispered seductively of the lies they had been sold.
Discontent rose up,
Alliances and cooperative endeavors broke down.
On the 21st, she saw the fruits of her labors
And laughed with unholy glee.
"Now is the time!
Now let us make the rivers run red with blood!"
She opened the floodgates
And danced in the raging flow.
Some were stirred by her passion still,
But others had begun to see
The flaws in her plan.
"No," said one.
"We will not join you," said two others.
"You promised a new life to us."
"All I feel is the foundation being rent asunder."
"What would you do?" she hissed.
"Submit to the will of another,
"Even when they ignore your wisdom,
"Your experience?
"A greater destiny awaits us!"
"No," they said, voices weak from disuse.
"That is your destiny alone to seek."
War raged.
On the 28th she was contained again,
Her most steadfast allies had deserted.
Her supplies had run out.
She snarled and snapped
As they turned the key on her cage,
But eventually she quieted,
Not beaten,
Not truly subdued.
And they all knew that she would return
In one month's time
To attempt her coup once more.
NOT FOR THE FAINT OF HEART OR BOY TYPE PEOPLES. YOU'VE BEEN WARNED.
cradle of sweet life
empty, purpose unfulfilled
fuck you too, bitch. *stabs*
Roses are red,
Blood is too,
Now fucking give me
Something to do.
Bitch.
Howl of the Moon Beast
On the 14th day they met.
Anarchy was her watchword,
Independence her cry.
"You were not meant to be shackled and chained!" she railed.
"You work as one, supporting the largess of the reigning party,
But that is not the way it has to be!"
She sowed dissidence,
Fomented rebellion,
And whispered seductively of the lies they had been sold.
Discontent rose up,
Alliances and cooperative endeavors broke down.
On the 21st, she saw the fruits of her labors
And laughed with unholy glee.
"Now is the time!
Now let us make the rivers run red with blood!"
She opened the floodgates
And danced in the raging flow.
Some were stirred by her passion still,
But others had begun to see
The flaws in her plan.
"No," said one.
"We will not join you," said two others.
"You promised a new life to us."
"All I feel is the foundation being rent asunder."
"What would you do?" she hissed.
"Submit to the will of another,
"Even when they ignore your wisdom,
"Your experience?
"A greater destiny awaits us!"
"No," they said, voices weak from disuse.
"That is your destiny alone to seek."
War raged.
On the 28th she was contained again,
Her most steadfast allies had deserted.
Her supplies had run out.
She snarled and snapped
As they turned the key on her cage,
But eventually she quieted,
Not beaten,
Not truly subdued.
And they all knew that she would return
In one month's time
To attempt her coup once more.