Final SaluteRoaring cries of war and steel,
thoughts of pity you cannot feel.
Words wrought with sounds of treason,
bound and gag with no rhyme or reason.
Men and beast die in vain,
no one else will know their pain.
Forgotten lore replaces blood,
ghostly shadows of where they stood.
Friend and foe fill the graves,
never to stand and fight again.
Monuments to the brave and free,
or a testament to one mans dynasty?
Would You KindlyWould you kindly...Would You Kindly4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Would you kindly release me?
I have no will to become a puppet,
a slave of your greed and power lust.
Would you kindly show your face?
Using those you murdered,
to mask your malicious intent.
Would you kindly confront me,
as man and not as the coward you are.
The final showdown.
Would you kindly bleed,
against the floors you tried so hard,
to rip from the hands that made it.
Would you kindly die,
an irony matched by no other.
Your power made you only weaker.
Would you kindly...
kindly, my dear.
Show me the way out.
The way up.
AtlanticWater,Atlantic4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
dark and murky
Presses itself against the glass,
thick and stained.
Begging for entrance.
The Atlantic is slowly,
but surely creeping its way in.
The cold, damp halls,
the pride and joy of Rapture,
growing dark and moldy.
The pipes are broken,
the spirit of the proud city,
Neon lights, flicker on and off,
a symbol for the last hope.
I cannot say as I write,
that I have long to live.
The people, once happy, once loving,
now stumble about.
They seek currency,
as their greedy minds always did.
Their faces are masked,
minds sick with insanity.
I have no doubt,
that with time, I will join their ranks.
Would You Kindly - Bad Ending Would you kindly...Would You Kindly - Bad Ending4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
Would you kindly lie,
filling my head with a false life.
The life you wanted.
Would you kindly make me a monster,
tell me to become the villain,
turn the Atlantic into a fiery-massacre.
Would you kindly lead me,
a shadow, twisted and deformed,
down every evil hall of the city.
Would you kindly toss me about,
like the wreck of the plane itself,
crumbled on the murky ocean floor.
Would you kindly warp my mind,
a mind I never had control of,
a puppet on a bloodied string.
Would you kindly...
Kindly, you bastards.
For every drop of blood I spill for you,
the more the city belongs to me.
Words and WeaponsYour words are powerless here.Words and Weapons3 years ago in Horror More Like This
Every syllable you mutter is a pointless charade;
Words will not change you.
They will not change us.
Simple text and gospel praise,
as vile and useless as the parasites who exhale them,
stain the truth about words:
Words are nothing against true change.
Speech will not change the world;
that's the job for a firing line of hot lead.
ADAMSuch glorious praise,ADAM4 years ago in Free Verse More Like This
for such twisted science.
ADAM, the way of the future,
the way of Rapture.
But, should such things be praised?
As we augment our selves further,
we plunge deeper and deeper,
into dark and sadistic addiction.
As if the Devil himself slips,
quietly and grinning,
into your blackened veins.
The needle his gate. His path way.
Your eyes become his eyes.
Your strength belongs to him.
How much longer,
can you resist his seduction?
The vial is empty,
the needle slightly moist.
Look at your arms, friend.
What have you done?
The Commuter's NarrativeI can't even begin to explain to you how much public transportation bugs me. It seems words can't even grasp the amount of filth and lack of systematic planning that creates the null void of rational thought, smack dab in the middle of Boston.The Commuter's Narrative3 years ago in Emotional More Like This
Trains, bus, and commuter rail: It's all the same crap, every day.
But, as ridiculous and dirt-attracting this moldy rail system is, our society thrives on it. A generous amount of people, especially in our current economic state, take public transportation to reach their job. That job, in turn, creates local revenue.
Without revenue, Boston would shrivel into a monstrous waste of rust and nothingness.
Sometimes, I wish it wasn't there. Just some force of other-worldly power could yank the entire system off the face of the planet, tossing it into the blank void of space itself. It's a hassle, costly, and attracts a certain group of undesirables.
But, fact is, there are more commuters besides trash-smeared hobos and sickly-thin crack-addicts