People

Serious

 

Il est un homme se moquant de la raison

 

Qui se rit de la morale et du cœur

 

Fait de l’absurdité sa sœur

 

Et du mauvais sort un clairon

 

 

 

Pas de nez rouge joyeux sur son visage

 

Un peu de noir sur les paupières

 

Une chevelure bleue comme le rivage

 

Et une odeur sucrée dans l’air

 

 

 

Il voit sur les cartes danser en dormant

 

Ses amis le trèfle joyeux, le carreau soupirant

 

Et le pique mélancolique, rêveur

 

Eux le comprennent. Ils sont danseurs.

 

 

 

Il est un homme souriant, charmant

 

Il est original, vêtu étrangement

 

Quelque peu excentrique, mystique

 

 

 

Et il me semble entrevoir le soir,

 

Entre les paupières teintées de noir

 

Une danse bleue mélancolique.

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Aggressive Warhead

Folder: 
Poetry

I was at home,

relaxed and alone.

I lay sleeping,

the darkness was reaping.

 

Then I heard the sound;

crushed windows all around.

Everything was destroyed,

of glass everything devoid.

 

Then I heard Warhead at my door,

personification of Balthazor.

The glass broke into shivers,

splinters were in my flesh delivered.

 

In spite of my fear,

at Warhead I did appear.

And tried to calm him down,

and he stopped throwing things around.

 

Everything seemed to be well,

Warhead had changes of mood, I can tell.

And Lays-chips was lying there,

I wouldn’t touch it, I declared;

cause it belonged to Warhead.

 

Hours later, Warhead came down;

in his anger still drowned.

He wanted his stuff,

but I knew he would bluff.

Always talking about guns,

but the true deed he shuns.

Though I was confused,

his stuff was unused.

Is what Ramses did tell,

and so ended this hell...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

An event in my life.

Abra the Bully

Folder: 
Poetry

Abra suddenly appeared;

He knocked on my door.

But I was startled,

So I slammed the door.

 

Later I went into the hallway,

And there he called me bitch.

I thought he would beat me up,

But he turned his back and went away.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Something that happened to me.

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The Incredible Machine

A dawn of advance
The world was ready,
The people weren't
And their children heaved through years of framework,
It was progress...

 

Alas the good deeds
People found new needs,
They set out to reach
The things they would teach...

 

A night to recall
The battle was won,
The war neverending
Upon it they weaved a special network,
It was useless...

 

A spun web of fate
Of gaiety and hate,
Forgotten the days,
Of the mortal ways...

 

An eclipse of minds
Oiled engines and souls,
Young, riotous rage
And they wanted blood for joy and fireworks,
Evolution...

Crow Bars

Folder: 
2017

I like to get to know people

To learn about them

And get them to open up.

 

Therefore, I always carry around things

So that I can pry people open

Until I’m surrounded by a pile of broken crowbars.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 8/9/17

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tags:

So Rich So Poor

I was once so god damned rich
Might be hard to understand
To have anything you wish -
No matter how large or grand

For many years I did own
In the heart of Beverly Hills
The very loveliest home
With all the finest of frills

Two acres and twenty rooms
Silk sheets gold plated brooms
Maids drivers and every tool
My life was easy and very cool

Then came the financial fire
Of two thousand and eight
I lost everything but my ire
For I saw the truth too late

Endless dominos were falling
Mandelbrot’s fractal chain
With human voices calling
In choruses of deep pain

I had my share of dominos
And debt to crooked banks
So I suffered mighty throes
And to them give no thanks

The descent was immediate
The depression hard to stop
It seemed that nothing fit
And everything was locked

Irony - pair of dice in human hand
I say looking down at Beverly Hills
Earning cash - giving sexual thrills
In the back of some stranger’s van

You say it could not happen to you
You are too smart - or this or that
But if it did - what would you do
To deal with the new set of facts

Could you - would you - should you
Where - how - when and how much
Who with - what’ll you have to do
And will you ever again find luck

There are so many questions
When you are totally broke
And too many indiscretions
Before it’s all writ and spoke

I was once so god-damned rich
And now I am so damned poor
If it wasn’t for those I’d miss
I’d say - I don’t want any more

Aggressive Warhead

Folder: 
Poetry

I was at home,

Relaxed and alone.

I lay sleeping,

The darkness was reaping.

 

Then I heard the sound;

Crushed windows all around.

Everything was destroyed,

Of glass everything devoid.

 

Then I heard Warhead at my door,

Personification of Balthazor.

The glass broke into shivers,

Splinters were in my flesh delivered.

 

In spite of my fear,

At Warhead I did appear.

And tried to calm him down,

And he stopped throwing things around.

 

Everything seemed to be well,

Warhead had changes of mood, I can tell.

And Lays-chips was lying there,

I wouldn't touch it, I declared;

'cause it belonged to Warhead.

 

Hours later, Warhead came down;

In his anger still drowned.

He wanted his stuff,

But I knew he would bluff.

Always talking about guns,

But the true deed he shuns.

Though I was confused,

His stuff was unused.

Is what Ramses did tell,

And so ended this hell...

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Something that happened to me in real life and a dream I had afterwards.

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Abra The Bully

Folder: 
Poetry
Abra suddenly appeared;
He knocked on my door.
But I was startled,
So I slammed the door.
 
Later I went into the hallway,
And there he called me bitch.
I thought he would beat me up,
But he turned his back and went away.
Author's Notes/Comments: 

An event in my life,

View mvtsicky666's Full Portfolio

Feeding the Rich

Ruffling a few feathers
stepping on truffle treasures,
now these earthly pleasures
are inedible
maybe spreadable 
but I’m skeptical,
is it ethical to serve
these chemicals to the herds
of people that populate this place?

 

There is nothing to lose 
please bring the booze, 
We’ll be busy and dizzy
I cannot refuse
these unenthused excuses 
this 'Executive Level - Mouthful of Dirt',
we can even put it in their dessert.

 

Getting a little technical,
truffles aren't vegetables
we’ll make them injectable
a 'Signature Selectable!',
the dish will be 
delectable to the delegates,
the unelectable, disrespectful
neglectful fools are dumb enough
to stuff it 
and be confused~
they'll believe it's infused with molecules from jewels.

 

The fucking tools.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

We cook and care for the Pigs at the top while they spill us the scraps. Sometimes not even that. Time to change the menu. We are the Power.