disgrace

*Untitled 8*

 

 September.28.2003

 Trisha Barrek Hopkins

 

I wish you would move on 

And leave me alone

I can't stand looking at your face

I can't stand the way you act in disgrace

You're not a man

You're nothing at all

So stop trying to stand tall

Like you did something great 

Because everything about you I hate

I want you to disappear

Get out of our lives

Vanish into thin air

Just don't come back here 

Your presence I can't stand being near 

Because nothing about you I care

In hell you belong

Everything about you is wrong 

So rot away

So I can live my life

My way day by day

Without stepping on eggshells

Nothing more to you I have to say

Finally off your high horse you fell

Never seeing you again I pray

 

Copyright

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I might add more to this poem. It doesn't seem finished. What do you think?

No Mercy

This poor creature, it is even human?
Final countdown of its remaining vitality
Bring an end to this miserable mannequin!
Slice him! Dice him! Chop him up!

 

Leave nothing to remain!
Let his blood paint the walls and floors
Palettes and splatters everywhere galore!
Crimson colors overlays the beige walls

 

How pitiful it must be to be you
You truly have nothing left to be remembered
Truly a poor sloth that can’t be considered human
One by one droplets fall onto the floor

 

The shell is dissolving slowly from his skin
Ah I can smell your rotting flesh now
Bones are ready to crumble as you slip in
Enjoy your last moment being alive

 

The chamber of ember awaits you
How marvelous we get to witness this
I’m sure you’ll thank us for doing the job right
After all you have nothing else left

 

Any last words before your cremation, sloth?
Come now, you surely have some last words
You have nothing and you are nothing
Why not just enjoy staying that way till the end?

 

Let this pitiful creature burn!
Ashes shall shower and plague his spirit
Let us watch his bones turn into dust
Until nothing remains anymore

View khoikoi's Full Portfolio

Disgrace

 

It’s a mental image I can’t erase...I try my best but somehow still remain a disgrace ...look at me, look at the scars on my face...it all travels with me, I need to get rid of this case....I know, I realize this is all just a phase but it is a thing I know I cant face...call me a coward call me a quitter....throw away the memories don’t be afraid to litter....it’s all hitting me at the same time...I pretend like it doesn’t hurt but it’s far from fine....i'm done searching...not sure I’d like what I’d find....I’ll keep walking but I’m not sure I could stop myself from looking behind...never will I find someone like you...not one of your kind....we created so many memories that are one of a kind....now they are all gone...it’s all crowded but I’m here all alone...I can’t see without your light....but through the darkness ill fight....I want to fly...fly away... and I’m not scared of the height...not enough might but enough will, it won’t be easy it will require much skill....just wish you knew what I feel...

 

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I write what I feel.

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tags:

THE DEEP DARK ENGLISH HEART

Folder: 
LIFE

THE DEEP DARK ENGLISH HEART

The nation in itself has been strangled by intrigue
Before they’d formed the UK, the first great league
The British dominated as far as could be seen
From Europe right down pass the Caribbean
To Asia Minor and down under
When they clap their thunder
Poor natives quake and obey
For only the English had a say
Rule Britannia was their song
And they’d reigned very long
Anyone who resisted them
Got into serious problem
They knighted their robbers
Whom we called buccaneers
To them the British did no wrong
You’re compelled to sing their song
To save their dilapidated sugar industry
Their righteous sole answer was slavery
This was one cause for their downfall
To feed the pot-bellied British and all

They did a lot of good which had stood the test
Their laws and education system were the best
Their snobbery and hypocritism and all
Left a deep dent in many an ex-colonial
They were so brainwashed with all the hypocrisy
Some still stuck up with their colonial mentality
What was once a shining lure
Is left today without a cure
The hidden heart of this once regal country’s fates
Is a collection of very battered old housing estates
Red-light areas and inner-city ghetto
Singing Rule Britannia as their motto
Festered with crack houses living on the dole
Hoping for improvement with pole after pole
And a haven for all refugees and social exiles
Crooks, home grown terrorists and pedophiles
Really a place where the poor gather
Where colour or class doesn’t matter
Snubbing or smirking at you in hat and cane as they pass
As you focus on the glass houses of the upper middle class

The rioters were leaving all things cheap
This was their harvest their time to reap
Why risk imprisonment if caught you query
To them they had nothing to lose why worry
They had no jobs and no respectability
Nothing for them to pay off eventually
At the bottom of the barrel you can’t scare
They’ll face rubber bullets they had no fear

They were damaged goods all of them
The results of a fragile lopsided system
The plot thickens years ago into this predicament
The architect being the Conservative government
When The Iron Lady sold off public housing
Failing to replace it with zilch with nothing
Her Big Bang turned London into financial crisis
The result was huge bonuses, soaring house prices
Labour using welfare to save an economy already drowning
Doing his utmost to with its killing what Cameron is doing
So how do you feed of self esteem of your last grain
You riot and you even shame yourself you go insane

You steal junk that makes you feel posh
With your mates getting all that rush
You are filmed pretending to help a bleeding boy
But stealing from his back-pack is your real ploy
You do disgusting things giving blows
You break doors and smash windows
Ask why you doing this, you have no clue
As you take what you think belongs to you
For the poor has no one who is helpful
Especially when they turn out ungrateful
It is easier to report about who set the fire
But why they lit the fire in the first place sire?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I wrote this afte the recent riots in England.