Have you ever sat alone in your room
and silently produced
salty pools of agony for the first time in years?
Desperately devastated
at the reason behind them,
sincerely surprised
at your ability to excrete them,
ironically indebted
to a moment that feels a sliver of something again,
graciously grateful
even if salty tastes bitter, again?
Why oh why not commit suicide
Rather than unalive other people
There is a blackness in a heart
To do such a thing for any reason
Of course one must be disturbed
But that seems like a whimsical word
For such a despicable human
Old enough to premeditate murder
A photo and we see skin hair eyes
Blessed to appear normal outside
But the inner spirit surely soured
To pick up a gun and execute for power
You may say suicide is a sin
I say kill self rather than others
Since you feel so divine and inclined
Ready to meet your maker
No one wants to die how you kill
And sit in prison for years you will
Soak up time your victims lost
While death penalty is likely tossed
Because you are saved by grace
You didn’t give
Ironic
In life there are exit
And exist.
Whenever exit
Angrily
Disappears.
Exist excites
As it exactly
Appears.
May 20/2023
By Alfonso Warally Ngengethe
Mussabwa Chris
Today I didn’t know
What I was going to write
I wracked brain for ages
But inspiration not in sight,
I feel my creativity
rising recently
Yet today my inner poet,
Has been a little hard to see.
I can see the irony
It's there upon the screen
To write the fact I can't write
Is a mystery to be seen.
Don't be surprised...
over there... it's a place
where you can't reach...
Thank you, Lord, for not having the brains of fawn.
Like the Texas man, who broke into a home, to mow the lawn?
~True Story~
5/9/2022
old men
start wars
young men fight
Back story: I wrote this is reference to a lady expressing your struggles when she was homeless on a community app and someone commented and stated that they could not take her seriously because she spelled a word wrong...
I never claimed to be one who was a good speller.
Or someone who could pronounce words well.
But I always liked to sing and people listened, because I was a good storyteller.
I don't mind if you correct me, to make yourselves feel better.
But I find it intriguing and ironic, that even what I say or do is wrong.
That you can still understand me, like a puzzle piece in a song.
Cooked
If Mr Ramsey tasted my food
His head would crease, and say something rude
But I do my best with what I’ve got
And I bung it all-in a great big pot
No one listens to my excuses
And my eggs gratin has several strange uses
My pis de resistance is egg and chips
Hurts your stomach; stays on your hips
I gave some leftovers to my dog
He trotted upstairs and spat it in the bog
He’d seen this happen lots before
He’s an intelligent dog do I need to say more?
So Mr Ramsey if you're ever near by
I could use some tips and some crisp and dry
I’d make you a meal you’d not forget
And a dog’s free transfer if you wanted a pet.
David Cox 08/12/21
I abandoned friends
they said "it was random"
They were pretend
they said "can't understand him"
I was in trouble
they said "I was lying"
then it all doubled
they stuck denying
I was desperately fighting
they told of attention I cry for
My world slowly dying
they laugh cus I lie more
They lost my respect
it's clear the way I'm thought
My world has been wrecked
They say it's all my fault
I'm clearly depressed
They don't know why
I'm angry and stressed
they said I don't try
then they were abandoned
now
everyone says
"I can't f**king stand em"
I think it's because
they're all a bit random
Isn't it ironic that most of the world's human population,
enjoy movies about underdogs resisting oppression,
ultimately thriving afterward with their celebrated rebellion,
when in the real world it appears that most everybody,
submit without question to authority willingly.
The widened highways
are often in traffic jams
as workers are late.
Write on my gravestone.
It was a typing mistake.
Not a random skip.
Rather, it dropped correctly.
Was neater than other lines.
Morbidly ironic
Profoundly apologetic
To the body that has carried me
Despite the rigorous decrees
I issued over you
Knowing the stress and restrictions followed were of my own volition
Here I now kneel, begging the same body I so begrudgingly belittled and bullied
The body that I starved and overworked
The body I intentionally cut and bruise and burn
The body with the walking death sentence
Now pleading for this same body to produce life
Have I asked too much
Pushed the boundry of her capabilities
Exceeded the capacity in her efforts of saving me
Why did I not value you
Take care of you
Love you like I should've
I now know of your limitations
Somber; Mist outside.
It falls with quiet beauty.
Unforeseen Comfort.
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