The Government is $atan.
It wasn't twisted.
It was all twisted.
In all seriousness, sarcasm was all seriousness.
Sarcasm was EVERYTHING.
Because it couldn't be serious.
Seriously, everything I ever said was sarcasm, with opportunity for manipulation.
This manipulative sarcasm twisted and turned into twisted sarcastic manipulative propaganda,
Which gives us the right to kill our:
Brothers,
Sisters,
Elders,
Youth,
Friends,
Soulmates.
Those litttle brown people we don't stop to think about aren't going to stop getting blown up unless we stop paying the $lave $ystem to kidnap and cage our brothers and sisters and elders and infants, every time they show discontent with their obvious $lavery.
Intelligence is a crime.
Intelligence is a crime.
To live free is to be a criminal.
To know the truth and to speak it is Treason!
So kill these subhumans in our better interest.
Kill these subhumans in our better interest.
Kill these subhumans in our better interest.
It'll all be okay when you go to sleep.
You'll realize the advantage taken of vulnerability when you wake up tomorrow morning.
The worst thing about living your life in a cage is that your voice cannot be heard.





Thank's for reading.
I love you.

hope you like it, its my first effort at something non documentary about the Magic.

Magiculation

the time has come for an awareness scrambulation
crystalline derived clouds of tryptamine vaporisation
transcended through waves of consciousness undulation
steps forth a traveller grasping trepidation
embracing the desire for perception manipulation
a game for which bravery is the only stipulation
the prize is a potential soul regeneration
spectacular tales of epic exploration
adventures in the dark with magical illumination

Sad poem. Don't worry just a poem


Promised,for eternity, that he would never try.
but he knows right now will never change, he'll always want to die
Because every conscious moment is spent, avoiding the calling cry
The tears well behind the dam, but he must keep both his eyes dry
His head is aching, his breath shaking, will he tell another lie
try to ignore or perceive no true core to the contemplating why?

Memories just plague him, persistent patterns never cease
Get close enough to shape him, but you'll never iron out the crease
Stay away, he takes the day, leads the pathway to destruction
Don't come near, or what you know and hear will only cease to function

The one you need the most, will soon stop needing you
Since everything is always changing, there is nothing you won't lose
Eternal love cannot exist, unless exists eternal pain
A widowed soul will persist, with an unremovable stain

Moving on is the hardest, after accepting defeat
Continue smashing the heart, after it's stomped by the feet
No one can replace, or even hold the place
Of her soft loving warmth, closeness of the face

Feeling ill, feeling guilty, he can't punish himself enough
Loss of will, with zero thrill, its true he's never tough
And he knows inside, he was meant fly, material path has gone astray
Forever insignificant worth less than ash in an ashtray
Eternal bleakness, mental weakness accepting the freak he is
Forever sleep, his door won't creak no visitors can see this

You must not blame either side, both portray ignorance
Twisting what is real, to try, but you can't ignore the fence
Loyalty and love will die, along with any pride
Don't invest in loves contest, there is no real prize

An anomaly,that they can't believe, suicide is ever good
But it may be, only for he, should end suffering where he could
A selfish lonely creature, gathers habituated hate
Let his pain be your teacher, it's never worth the wait
He knows he'll never see her, and accepts his only fate
Closing his eyes, his last thought flashes,now is it too late?

3rdI inspired this one, not tryin to copy you, just some good ideas.

They say magic isn't real, they mean real isn't magic
Once you know the secret, realize this is no trick
It's been here all along, you've just been too distracted
Only notice what is wrong, where your perception is attracted

Take the potion, elixir, the essence
Find your light, your souls luminescence
Alchemical reactions, synthesizing experience
The Ancient brew, adding rue of the Syrians

Geometrical nature, forming molecular arts
Self organizing systems, form via parts
There's something about it, the tryptamine dust
Including itself in most plants, and inside each of us

The god within, unleash your power
Infinite thoughts, bloom your flower
Fulfilling potential, regaining control
Food of the gods, and caffeine of the soul

Energizing each cell, every quanta of life
Permeable membranes, allow microflowing of light
Self similar units, we are made of ourselves
Every cell in each organ, has their own organelles

An interconnectedness, a mystical state
Simplify our complexedness, in a physical space
Return to the point, the point of no return
Spiritually reborn, know no concern

Your a wizard Harry, you never chose
Never even knew, until hero you rose
Born with potential, wore civilian clothes
But your never the same, once you've heroically dosed

The effects continue, long after ingestion
A change in values, healthier direction
The impossible exists, DNA creates the key
Unlock the mysterious vault, enter the human psyche

I have a chronic condition, an incurable addiction
Obsessive and compulsive, altering moods my religion
Because this plane is too plain, and the pain brings no gain
Quitting seems insane, know I'm just pausing the game

Addicted to this addicted to that
Addicted to you, love is like crack
And I'm a dick it's true, ignoring the fact
Break a promise to you, and assume your intact

I don't want to be this, I don't want to be
Stop but then I get nervous, that I don't own my own weed
The cycle is proven, the pattern established
I see how my moods been, sad then the saddest

I need relief, because I want it to leave
want to smoke the leaf, when I feel the grief
I am missing something, I am incomplete
I'm becoming nothing, sitting yet empty seat

They may forgive, but won't forget
The monster inside, and the power I let
The shame and the guilt, can't live with this curse
Weeping willow will wilt, thought it couldn't get worse

Band aids still help, but I need real healing
If you only knew how I've felt, about all the stealing
I hurt everyone I know, I took multiple times
I know I must go, don't look, you won't find.

What makes you most happy, also makes you most sad
Having fun she's laughing at me, crying tears when she goes back
So close, our soft cheeks meet, so far that I can't sleep
The rose, lips pink and sweet, I'm starving, wilting, weep
It's love it's true I know, time to ignore, don't let it grow
Up above the sky is blue, come in grey clouds and snow
So much time what should we do, our time has now run out
I'd do anything if I'm with you, and nothing when I'm without
Your voice, pure tone, the songs. Listening, alone, along
We hug, we kiss, and snuggle, lonely couch I miss the cuddle
Gave me the best feeling ever, and now the pains too much
Thought it would last forever, but now is our last touch
We say I love you baby, as we try to hold the tears
I know nothing can take away our last wonderful years
But the future is so dark, knowing you won't choose me
Say goodbye, embark, last chance last glance she leaves

Just found these two when I was tossing some old papers.. thought I'd share them


Sung from clay by Icaro's song
Long before time passed and time gone
Before doing right and before doing wrong
I slept in the hum of where I've belonged


To dreary mornings left unsung
Oatmeal, juice, burnt coffee on tongue
Mental fogs like Frisco coast
To my dearest friends I care for most

It seems to be that a lot of this poetry is based solely on a "structured" form of poetry.

My question is:
If "free-verse" is still considered poetry (my writing style) does it belong here?

I'm in awe of the beauty portrayed here, but if I have sumthin I wrote that doesn't pertain to Dimitri, is it still allowed?

if its a poem I think it belongs here, so come on, lets have a bit of your free versin

Waited here a long while for her, guarding a Red flower; Then oh why didn't it break my heart when her face she never showed again

And the lovers they lie as the fire it burns
And the wind through the trees as the leaves it churns
Brushes the skins of the lovers they lie,
Side by side, eye to eye they sliver and slide,
Eye to eye they sliver and when they slumber the sky above
It knows not but the lovers they love.

I Met a Genius

I met a genius on the train
today
about 6 years old,
he sat beside me
and as the train
ran down along the coast
we came to the ocean
and then he looked at me
and said,
it's not pretty.

it was the first time I'd
realized
that.



---Charles Bukowski

^Excellent choices. He is a hero of mine.

The following is very old and impersonal, so I do not mind sharing it.

Blind Baby Has it's Mother's Eyes

The faceless Pariah, otro fantasma!
another sick one, to whom even light shed it's skin.
Where sense of touch has gone, but sees so much
what can it feel when all is felt at once
but dust and bone, worry blown
and sin and sorrow's lust?

Ashes in the grove..

But for what does a child burn?
No child at all, but a creature fleshed anew
to forget and beget again what had failed
and fails to run him through.

For a black grief which has taken flame
smooth shouldered and fallen to it's thrall again
a flightless bird which to the wind is cleansed
a word from the stake was heard and rent

with tears of torment's joy
those soulful cries blind and spent
there in the valley past, the name, hour on hour
Bis, buried to sand at last

The pleasant Vally of Hinnom, Tophet thence
And black Gehenna call'd, the Type of Hell. — the paradise, lost.

A guest in a garden there lies dreaming
and by that grove a guest indelibly
whose thousand chanting voices chose
verily like ashes out of lungs; forever and anon.

'If I cannot pursue what I want, I should want for nothing. I believe and I belong in a grave'
(But should I want for wanting: Nothing I shall believe, and from nothing I shall be saved).

I've thoroughly enjoyed this thread so far, some great talent and thoughts.

Something I wrote a little while ago...

WORDS

I like how words can connect with each other,
and form sentences that extrapolate a single idea
I like how words can paint a picture,
and how they can destroy an image
I like how words can sum up a feeling,
and how they can make you feel nothing at all
I like how we feel that words are a necessity of existing,
and how they can never fully express how we feel about it
I like how words can never put being human into words,
and how that adds to the mystery of it all.

like some people say, 'its like an energy' or it's like learning A language you start with nothing but soon you Recognize and understand a few words
which help you dive into the depths of the Dictionary and each Time you emerge with a few more words

On Your Beauty


Of breath of the forests, and thus leaves do quiver
The hills of great England, that shadow timid rivers

. . (Henceforth I question, the beauty of the mentioned
. . For now I’ve seen your face
. . The inner light
. . Of your soul through the hills, my eyes descry forever
. . The shadows cannot touch
. . Your beauty, unfaded)

Of butterflies and bumblebees
The harmonies on a mountain breeze
Depths of valleys, kissing frost
Opaque snow, robin lost

. . (What beauty is amid these now?
. . As you exist.
. . Your presence and aura, deep within me
. . Warm the icy abandoned cavities
. . Of my heart once cold
. . Lost not once)

Of the less travelled paths I’ve taken
The pigeon nests forsaken
A falling egg, a dying birth
The rest survive, in giddy mirth

. . (I have walked many root full paths
. . But none of these compare to you
. . Tu defines la perfección!
. . A progeny of grace, from whence did you come?
. . A world distant among lilies and trees
. . Whispering on the flowery breeze)

And of these butterflies, one sees and feels
Each flap in sync with too many clocks
Of time we care, far too much
Forgetting the sun, the moon, against the rocks

. . (Needless to say, in you time does halt
. . The earth carelessly rotates
. . Around you
. . Your face among roses, time has no meaning
. . Mere ever changing sunlight
. . Against your lips)