Friday, April 12, 2019

BE'ZOMBIES, THE PSYCHOTIC DEAD

...by Poetic Tee "Here, take a sip"

I, sit here a poet
seething in anger
about an evil pond
choking in Padlock-Doo
worshipped by Be'zombies
psychotic dead, making dead
of the living, while they strive.

That psycho pond in Doo
owe us a vengeance, fully due
for feeding fat on innocent souls
only to fart out loud, yet so proud
thru the mouth of fools in bondage
breathing hate, drinking fresh blood
cannibals, worse than savage animals.

One Doo pond regurgitates
a submerged graveyard, fed off murders
another pond stomachs coveted treasures
yet more are hiding discoveries bound to quake
Blessed water turned lifeless domains by the fruitless
Poor land cries to be saved from denizens of Gulagyang
Soon will come brimstone cleansing from above and below.

A minority with a big minus
inferiority is their city complex
skyscrapers of ignorance, bursting
myopic in thought, of stone age mind
a pathetic faith, dwelling in dark shadows
fooling self, worst crime of insane criminals
steep in devotion of a goddess in sags of sadism.

They walk, they talk, they stalk
think them not as humans, nay!
smile, slaughtered on ugly faces
within each, a fire of hatred burns
for a heart, rages a fierce furnace
chewing away at their very core core
before they arrive home homeless, hellfire.

1/2

FLASH FICTION COMPETITION

AN OLIVE LEAF

I read the post and my heart sank. He's flagrantly vilified my reverence.

So I asked myself, "Why is this happening?" Seems hate is the new love in our village, and poured in a speech, as a time ride, the man instantly retrogressed back into the dark ages.

I wanted to follow him there and strip him of his tongue, but realized it's his mind that needs attention. Therefore, rather than reduce myself, I chose to elevate his understanding.

That way I hope to refine his thinking, perhaps the world may be saved via an olive leaf and knowledge.

*******

GOD, WHERE ARE YOU?

She sat all alone, hunched on the hard, cold, side walkway of the deserted street, hearing the chilly wind howl away like a stray mongrel missing home and possibly its master.

The situation clearly describes her as tears burst captivity to register her heart's state. She quickly wipes her cheeks, wondering how grace could turn to grass and affluence to homelessness in such a jiffy.

"God, where are you?" her silent question escapes her innermost spirit, in a whisper the fierce wind could not take from her frozen ears. "If you are there, save me... Please."

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