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Literature Text
Stand here. Let me laugh at you.
I'm better off alone.
God loves me, someone has to.
I watch, distant,
As rivers of rainbow men march
And cackle limply.
They tout their rainbow rag
And spit at me. Spit on my life.
I watch, distant,
As waves of women degrade
Themselves, make themselves an object.
How I hate them! They are weak and ugly
Inside. They sneer at me. Sneer at my life.
I watch, distant,
As a people clamour to murder
Their young. I wish to spit in their eyes
I see a clinic burn and I can't stop laughing.
While they curse at me.Curse my life.
I watch, all too close
As a boring bigot plods around
And never shuts up about his God.
He is a worm and a cruel man.
Ah wait. He's me.
I'm better off alone.
God loves me, someone has to.
I watch, distant,
As rivers of rainbow men march
And cackle limply.
They tout their rainbow rag
And spit at me. Spit on my life.
I watch, distant,
As waves of women degrade
Themselves, make themselves an object.
How I hate them! They are weak and ugly
Inside. They sneer at me. Sneer at my life.
I watch, distant,
As a people clamour to murder
Their young. I wish to spit in their eyes
I see a clinic burn and I can't stop laughing.
While they curse at me.Curse my life.
I watch, all too close
As a boring bigot plods around
And never shuts up about his God.
He is a worm and a cruel man.
Ah wait. He's me.
Literature
I loved a girl.
i loved a girl.
i loved a girl with a love
for cummings & sandburg
& sexton.
i loved an unflinching
poet of a girl.
& with no better diction:
they called the shaking fists
at her sides, her silent act
of pacifism, cowardice.
i’m the coward;
she bled for the both of us.
Literature
Girl in the Glass
I hate this girl
With the sneer on her lips
Her fingers knotted in her pretty hair
Her eyes are wild
Manic, sadistic
She's so curvy it's almost sad
She can't hold down a diet
She's hideous
And stupid
She keeps yanking down her sleeves to cover those pathetic scars
Her eyes are droppy
Her legs too wide
Ink stains on her finger tips
And pentagram's drawn on her sneakers
She has a silver ring and leather coat
She's so desperate to worm into some else's skin
I don't want to hate her but I do
Who is this, stupid bitch who's smiling like she doesn't have a clue?
Putting on a brave face? Ready to face her accuser?
He's waiting in the car
Literature
Imaginary Girl
The girl was born dead,
but the world was so loud
that it shocked her alive.
It started a cycle of death and rise
that she needed to survive,
while she had her mind painted with shades of red.
Don't be fooled by her silence, or by her sweet smile,
she carries the weight of the dead all the while.
And all the while that she plays,
and practices her ballet,
she takes what she can handle
and locks the rest away.
She wears her ghost like a dead weight coat,
arms wrapped around her throat:
haunting her-
taunting her-
whispering in her ear;
the memories of the dead
push her farther
down
down
DOWN
and paint her mind a dark
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Read a couple of times. This is, continuing on the theme of 'Sociopath', a work about my disgust towards modern society and towards myself.
© 2012 - 2024 TheLastIconoclast
Comments6
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This really hits me like a Ginsberg poem. So blunt about society, but yet so enjoyable.
This is definitely something I would like to see continued (not the piece, just the feel).
This is definitely something I would like to see continued (not the piece, just the feel).