Screw your Excuse

No is a word pretty short,
The meaning and verve very curt.
Yet is often largely ignored,
In all walks of life, disfigured.
Neither misunderstood nor inaudible,
Just made disgustingly pliable.
It’s reach verbally is non-existent,
It needs actions to be potent.
To heck with always being positive,
What’s needed is a loud & clear negative.
To heck with always being positive,
Crimes happen because of being so delusive.
Repetition without reinforcement doesn’t matter,
Morals without sensitivity oft do falter.
Ranting on social media is futile,
Get real, practical and brutal.
Education is a pitiful excuse,
When morals in the muck of abuse.
To heck with always being positive,
What’s needed is a loud & clear negative.

The Alphabet of Life

Life is a journey, with its good and its bad,

And sometimes experiences you wish you never had.


Let’s start with ‘A’ and see how far we go,

Affairs that are addictive, fleeting as snow.


With ‘B’ a Bond may not necessarily form,

007 is better than a societal norm.


‘C’ though short, rarely lends its sight,

Cheating and trickery have their own rightful might.


In ‘D’ many find their highest pleasure,

Be it destruction, an organ or end forever.


For ‘E’ is considered a bad grade in school,

Envy for the first often makes you a fool.


‘F’ is for a Failure and also a Friend,

Can each be from the other, ever rend?


In ‘G’, liars see the God, the one supreme,

That faith behind every nefarious scheme.


Through ‘H’ we Hustle, though rarely well,

Employing tactics that often ring the knell.


From ‘I’ we get Individuality inflated,

Till our egos get deathly bloated.


Coming to ‘J’, we forget what is Just,

But use the word every chance we must.


Then comes ‘K’, with it a Killing desire,

Smiles galore hiding an angry fire.


‘L’ for Love is but just a joke,

It dies never born, sans a single croak.


The ‘M’ in Mankind is utterly useless now,

The rest sounds more apt somehow.


At ‘N’ there’s Nothing that’s sensible enough,

Except the word that’s more than fluff.


As for ‘O’, Oblivious we all are,

Every moment turning a bit too bizarre.


‘P’ for Punishment is the new enjoyment,

Increasing in numbers in hedonistic ardent.


Every ‘Q’ for a Question is frowned upon,

Either lied to its face or made a feeble pawn.


Rape from ‘R’ will trend from now on,

As real victims suffer, and it’s used in every con.


‘S’ for Sex will stay ever resolute,

Till desires in the groins rule logic absolute.


We are just at ‘T’ and I feel your pain,

Not really, Tall Stories come from the brain.


Understanding is from ‘U’ and there’s a play of words,

While sensibility rots, topples another house of cards.


Verity from ‘V’ has gone to take a nap,

Open up some graves, you might find the dead chap.


The World with ‘W’ has no value itself,

When mundanity is its core and worth on the shelf.


‘X’ leads to Xenophobia, that which is rampant,

No one tends to think, better is hatred blatant.


‘Y’ should stand for Yellow Journalism always,

Bearing testimony to violence worthy of praise.


‘Z’ for the poor Zygote that will face all the above,

Strive for something better, maybe even die for a real love.

Just Don’t

Don’t hail me as a preacher, of sins I was born,
Don’t praise me as a lover, I’m steeped in Devil’s scorn,
Don’t think me a dreamer, my thoughts are but forlorn.

Justifications, explanations leading to these contradictions,
Just a funny play running through these gray convolutions.
And while hope and expectations become bloody lacerations,
Poor ticker in this confusion, finds solace in desperation. Continue reading

A Villanelle on Vicissitude

I hadn’t been told of the changes that would be,
Of what good or bad, the things would come to pass,
How chained the nous would be, and the soul unfree.

Have impaled the heart, thorns forged of a sorrow’s tree,
Schadenfreude a distant dream, even a smile is scarce, alas,
If only I had been told of the changes that would be. Continue reading

Ordo ab Chao

A while to ponder the convolutions of this twisted mind,
A moment to savour the sanguinity of this bloodied vessel,
While meandering moods chip away at the pain they find,
Vestiges of paroxysms rather new scrape at the heart’s bevel.
Twixt vacillations of a nature quite baroque, spins the soul’s core,
Whilst sipping on a masochistic euphoria of leaking sanity,
Try no more do I to mend, for these fate lines are sore,
I’ve had my fill, been hungover as hell, dredged the last dreg of self-pity.

Continue reading

Of the Composition of Life

If beings of life we consider these selves of us,
‘Cause draw breath do we and bear a nous.
We reason the reason since we laugh and cry,
Feel do we glee, an escape from sorrow we try.
We boast an intellect superior than all,
For every wrong of us, another species takes the fall.
But we are still right, still abide by the rule of might,
Proud at the weak’s plight, inasmuch as our being’s a blight.
Take heed, you beings of idiocy unending,
Molecules that formed you thus, lie even in stones unrelenting.
Your nescience won’t be neglected forever,
The stones’ song is nigh, so is a coronach of thy cadaver.

The Devil did a Good Deed Today

Looking at the rotting corpse of a kitten crushed over,
Reminded I was of stench of mankind’s putrid cadaver.
Because you know something is definitely off,
When fruits of carnal flesh borne don’t stop at enough.
When calls for help and cries of despair,
Fall on ears which closed the holes meant to bare.
When tears shed and blood spilled in this heathen realm,
Form the varnished polish of progress’ helm.
And then an outrageous moral genocide comes our way,
I smile, for the devil did a good deed today.

That Haven Will I Gain

And my wandering gaze rested awhile on a busy square.
Crowded though my mind is with thoughts of a lonely lane,
The din around grows to a level too much to bear,
And I close the fleshy windows praying to stay sane.

It’s been years, and have passed many days of bane,
While the brain has to set to work, the heart’s threadbare.
Each second rife with mundanity, moments driven insane,
And my wandering gaze rested awhile on a busy square.

Those lazy noons and livid afters of the local fair,
The glad mos now hazy in memories, bold now the pain,
The bustle about me leaves me lonesome for air,
Crowded though my mind is with thoughts of a lonely lane.

Found I have much all this time, though nothing to gain,
Time boundless with me, but none to spare.
While blatant notions of home rage on a whimsical train,
The din around grows to a level too much to bear.

This wealth shall be undone, without any penchant for flair,
And thus shall my longing on my heart cease the cane,
I hazard if a recluse may I dare,
And I close the fleshy windows praying to stay sane.

The sorrow of all tears has now but left just a stain,
Smiles do I force when over the soul shameless life strides across,
Compromises have I bedded, with fallacies have I lain,
Countless have been defeats, many more a loss,
but that haven will I surely gain.


And a desire anew has breathed in a first,
For in lieu of a lost moment,
Has been quenched my love’s thirst.

The wilful breeze blew some broken petals your way,
And you turned your gaze upon me,
‘Twas ecstatic, how my heart did sway.

Life till now was a journey but for this instant,
When an epiphanic feeling filled me,
Life’s liveliness was this fulfilled want.

The breeze passed without much ado,
And I was scared for what I’d lose,
But you smiled, pacing up my pulse’s flow.

A prayer went up, as fervent as I could muster,
Surprised at how weak I felt,
Needing cosmic strength, from my supposed Father.

I looked up frantic, hoping to hasten the loan,
To plead with my expectant eyes,
Ready, suddenly, for all my sins, to atone.

‘Twas too late, I guess, You’d heard not,
For my eyes had now met her gaze,
She spoke, and I was devoid of every thought.

Chimes, bells and maybe strings of harps resounded,
My understanding stumbling and failing,
Confused, a ‘Hello’ I said, dumbfounded.

A Fluttery Thing, The Heart

A fluttery thing called the heart,
Bewildered, confused most times,
Hither thither does it dart.

To wild bouts of fancy is it addicted to,
And to the mind it scant does listen,
For its whims are born of the blue.

For a brief moment but it stilled the day past,
When its windows, the brazen eyes fell upon you,
And that minute, that mo, felt eternal to last.
This brazen heart…