The muzzle flash of the moon is infused with clouds
where the brightness tapers off on knees that poke through
the slit in her dress; the hem slips off her crossed legs.
Gunpowder in sieves flecks her irises
when she glimpses through my lunar haze
of daydreams that I'll trigger her to smile.
A Guns N' Roses song flogs silence in the back-
ground of my mind as she stands to shake
hands I synchronously half-rotate to kiss.
Her wedding ring tastes like zinc, or some strange kettle
of moondust while she avers that I look as pale
as mists conspiring to discover our trail.
Though we can't see her butler crack the whip to keep
a distant carriage in place,
whinnying clouds beam a grin to her face.
Drunk is the man,
Who gave me the roots of my existence
In this harsh, cold and dark world...
For instance,
He beats up his so-called darling heartbeat
To a pulp, saying she's not caring about him
Yet he spends the little he gets
In bars, so late at night
With his friends, who dance to the tunes of alcohol
And use that chance to know harlots biblically...
He pounces on them as prey
Though they spread disease in the community
Alas! The more he laughs, is the more he loses soberness
Harnessing thoughts that we are his enemies
On his return, to our ramshackled house!
They say that a home is a safe place
But to me it's like a warzone
A heart rage of shame...
Mother, so verbous that her words land out of place
As she fires gruesome tantrums to her husband
And as African men once nurtured,
They shan't tolerate disrespect from a woman
When he flogs her in front of my siblings and I
Indeed our miniature size, prevails as our weakness
Seeing our mother bleed, to the brink of death!
Feeding a child with what he knows already !
Hasn't this been in many good schools steady?
A child finds it fine acting unconcernedly,
Teacher is sure it's time to be unfriendly,
The child soon humming tunes or shuffling his feet
Wanting to another chap in mischief beat...
All these right under a teacher's sorry nose
With his bulging bag hitting another close.
If teacher flogs child as good as the sacked!
He should have the lips of tasted French wine smacked!
A child who could answer his cruellest questions
And where he had messed up made suggestions.
Frog and Toad were on the road
When they met a Chinaman
He said, 'Harro. How do-you-do?
I nevel see two flogs rike you.'
Forever Ever or Never
Forever does it exist? Forever is never doesn’t exist. It betrays hearts, breaks bones in its subtle nuances. It takes love, makes it eternal but it’s not. There is nothing just worn down cloth from the gaggery. No one has any right to tell. Love has no name so don’t expect it to deliver your lusty pleasures.
Aphrodite has a mirror_ it reflects your world of despicable lust. Her voice flogs those who use its dance for uppity pose.
Freyja was here with Eros flown away.
I am impassioned with this. Never born_trapped in mother’s uterus_screaming forever. But you released me. This hideous hateful horrid hobgoblin always down inside inner core gutter’s sewer range. Crawling with the dregs- scrags_ slags lovers who have been banished for a dream of sensuality.
Unbeknown to every scab here, I am to see_ relish freedom_ hovering, staggering towards my light, the golden globe IBurning gone but not forever as there is no ever or nowhere forgone. Person of steel lifts me out of the gutter- carrys me on her back to the hollowmen hole. I’m gone.
SHATTERED SCREAMS
ECHOES OF OUR SILENT SCREAM,
TORTURE FROM A LEADER'S STEAM,
DWINDLING OF OUR NATIONS DREAM.
WE CHOOSE TO FIGHT AS A TEAM,
OR WATCH THEIR THEATRICS LIKE A FILM.
IF WE FIGHT, OUR VOCIFEROUS WEAPON IS HUSHED,
IF SILENT, OUR FUTURE IS CRUSHED.
TOLLGATE IS NOW THE BLOOD GATE,
WHERE HEROS OF JUSTICE LEARN THEIR FATE.
OUR VOICES ARE STRANGLED,
WE'RE MANHANDLED LIKE A STAR SPANGLED.
THE PILLARS OF OUR STRUCTURE IS FALLING.
WHO HURTS HIS CHILD AND FLOGS HER FOR WAILING?
RELEASING THE CAMOS, WOLFS IN DIRTY SHEEP'S CLOTHINGS
AND BLACKMARIAL TO HUNT DOWN CITIZENS.
INTERNAL TERROR SUMS UP MY ANALYSIS.
NIGERIA, YOUR ACTS DABBLES & DAGGERS MY HEART.
WHERE IS THE LABOUR OF OUR HEROS PAST?
OUR RESIDUE IS IN THE DEN OF THIEVES,
AND THE OLD CERTAINTY OF THE FUTURE HAVE BECOME MERE "IFs".
VickManuelPoetry {VMP}
Copyright© 14th Feb, 2021.
Drugs
I never showed my dogs any tricks that appear to please
people I grew from a puppy to an adult, mind I sometimes
patted her and she had the habit of using my feet as a pillow
when I was watching TV. when she got older, she got a bit
grumpy when I moved my feet.
Today I watched how they killed Pablo Escobar, a drug trader
a murderous gangster, all his costumers, live in the USA.
As usual in this cases, someone else took over and it will
continue and this how capitalism work.
there is a hallowed family selling opium in large scale they
by bribing doctors to push this wonder medicine that
that made people addicted, well opium is addictive whatever
name you to put on the label.
this family still flogs their wonder pills I will not use the name
but they have killed more people than Escobar.
Love is a killer
She plays beautifully in my heart
But refuses to say when you are coming
These desirable feelings of mine keep dragging my thoughts
Before the sun steps away
While darkness befalls the earth
And the moon show its beautiful face
I want to smash my heart for you
I am thinking of where you are
Or maybe just sinking in my mind
But these crying feelings of mine want to wake me up
Leaving its stings upon my head
I have held many of your pictures
Kissed it without saying a word
Cause this exciting love of mine
Its worth can never be calculated
Where are you
Are you coming now or gone forever
My body wants to die of sleeping sickness
Cause these memories of you in my dream are unbelievable
Whenever I think of you
Love plays the devil's role
And flogs my imagination
How unforgettable these games keep playing in my head
Time has come and gone
I can't just keep waiting for you sweetheart
Wherever you are right now
I pray the heavens watch over you
Flogged a Dead Horse The Dream
It felt no pain
pain I felt
flogging works like that
So I sat
upside down
in Australia
Started to fall asleep
cider I was in, knee deep
A kangaroo woke me up
It felt no pain
as she flogged a dead man
flogging works like that.
Flog a Dead Horse The Reality
and feel its pain
that's how it works
I sit
upside down
in Australia
knee deep in cider
while a kangaroo flogs me
it doesn't feel my pain
I'm a dead man
that's how it works
I bore a son
crazy he is
teaches himself to ride bike
by falling from tree
he learns to write
by biting and eating pencils
and when he is beaten in race
he flogs his lazy legs
I bore a son
crazy he is
trains himself as soldier
by shooting his own shadow
I watched her from my window
when fire delays to light
she pours in it water with rage
then flogs the fire-stones
and all is smoke and wetness
then she starts all over again
Each time she is annoyed
throws abuses at the foolish fire
at the day’s end hunger creeps in
her family curse biting hunger
as neighbors eat their fill in joy
By evening the wise cook goes out
asking for charity and left-overs
which she eats alone in hiding
as offspring, husband maid starve
One night she dreamed a dream
Fire stood up and advised her;
“You call yourself wise cook, no!
You are a foolish servant-cook
Why can’t you use wood I love?”
I can no longer suppress this deep loathing
That writhes and churns, flogs and smothers
Every loving and tender sentiment within
My sullen mind;
Once filled with vain gaiety and vain desire,
Now embittered.
Isolation can make weak even the strongest souls,
But a noose to the neck will not ease this pain,
For Death denies such true repose.
Then tell me, how can I ever be at peace,
When alive the guilt kills me so?
Things get done
With grace and virtue beyond
The usual dregs camping out
Virtuosity ceases to be priority
As it yields to tone-setting and methodical fleecing
Of the willing patrons searching for
Deeds and reasons to come their way
A warm stare is launched
Caught by gazes more magical than they need to be
And doused with sunshine which flogs each lip upon receipt
Message, meaning unnecessary
Now that gorgeous is control and behind the wheel
Taking us all on a journey we never meant to see
And going blind in the process.
(8/9/10)
Very funny Joe (nah you caint see his side:)
Little crazyness helps the flow, tween toe n toe ,
and the brain it slips n burns the clutch,
and suffers smoke n other such,
but the old bombulator keeps a driving. (auto)
life is a crazy witch,
who flogs ya hide,
while you do itch,
if i said more i'd be a snitch
saddle up an keep on riding.
further down the track you'll see,
a raving lunatic just like me,
who left the bomb. to have a wee.
solo the bomb. just kept on driving...
put your's on soup Joe?
maybe this one ?
cheers mate
on ya
Don
In the rear view is a big slab rider in
tiger prints on the open road.
Off the pike and down the route, I
see my breath she sees the inside of
a brain bucket lid.
Crispy corn snakes slither between those
bubble gum wheels, I see my breath she
parts the fog with hot drag pipes.
Her gore-tex grips those tasseled ape hangers, in
armor head to toe.
The silence breaks into four-banger parade,
I see my breath she lets off the
binder and flogs up the dawn.
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