Category: Alliteration

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Dude . . .

if i could convince you
to consider but one candid concept
which, of course, you might suspect
concerns a most elicit topic
if your inclination
was to cringe and quickly run for cover
you would be correct
for you’ve accosted me unlike no other

with a cavalcade of quite conveniently
depicted diq piqs
clogging up my network
like a cable network choking Netflix

please don’t misconstrue my words
as puns or covert euphemisms
this is very serious
like when penis becomes penisn’t
calm down, i don’t mean the content
i declare that secondary
i can’t comprehend your cause
nor lack of couth

it’s kind of scary

curbing your distinct affliction
by increasing increments
can’t quash your creative calling
and it’s in your best interest

i cannot afford to hear the lord groan
when i check my smartphone
nor have leering onlookers
keep winking as if something was known

dude, it’s just a diq
no need to show it to the world at random
put that shit away or else i’ll lop it off without abandon

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Chaotic Pedantry

these, my thoughts
a plague of vague and divergent plagiarizations
indiscriminately pilfered in epic proliferation

culled and culminated
an insipidly loquacious clamor
pulling at the seams
of a precarious defenestrator

sonorous disquietude
of pointless quips methodical
poised with impropriety
imprudently parodical

pondering the response
spurred by unintended implication
posed from every angle
with fastidious consideration

formulating fears quickly forestalled
and then falsely inflected

internalized dialogues
disseminated and dissected

infiltrated by effusively
flourishing fantasies

in fluctuating malformations
of infernal lunacy

frantically then bantering
a bevy of inbound semantics
transmuting juxtapositions
chaotic thought pedantic

poring over every nuance
with a painstaking precision
lamentations
over lingering lexical aberrations

an incessant onslaught
of neurotic errings syntactical
cringing at the notion
of the permanence of erstwhile drivel

ever ready to unravel
by mere random incidence
so unwittingly interweaved
with arbitrary intermittence

why must it be so
that my mind never ceases inundating
every thought that fills my head
with copious neuroticisms

moored and then mechanically mulled over to such mundane measure

maladaptations of mind-numbing malefic discomfiture

omnipresently presaging
prominently ominous

a vomitous slew so profusely foul and insalubrious

besotting of verbosely vulgar surreptitious linguistics
repetitious literary folderal inefficacious

unrelentingly attending all obsessive inclinations
descending into grammatical quandaries sans hesitation

requisitely structured with laborious alliteration
assonance and consonance or else subjective condemnation

were that my implores could ever be expressed externally
surely they would lock me up then quickly throw away the key

cognitive calamity at this degree of grave affliction
begets one naught but a ticket to the mental institution

left bereft of any hope for one’s existential salvation
in an exile of the vilest form of human deprivation

i must then be heedful in revealing my indisposition
if you would excuse me from thus furthering this exposition

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In Life

machinations
of the mind
maligned
by self-imposed design
the designated driver
of a maladaptive
disposition
dislocated sediment
intent on masochistic dreams
essential to the martyrdom
indoctrinated by a matriarch
of drastic sadist aspect
etched upon
wretched projections
usurped by alienation
parchment poisoned
by a plucked pen
paraphrasing false-inflections
pulse diminished
inquisitions
redress of aloof forsaking
rooftops shunned
by dawn’s awaken
caustic disclaim
trained on trauma
interred at the infirm
spun of silk
encased chrysalis
incrementum in reverso
verses of accursed squalor
umbral indigent
in freefall
following in footsteps
fading faster than
the self-effacing
imbrue of inebriation
seesawing with undulation
diametric poles
in flux
de facto devolution
folding inward
on the precipice
event horizon somnolent
a fate inferred
and self-fulfilled
through flustered blurs
of blighted pills
spilling the inner-light
and stirring dust to volant heights
in violent hues of tapered will
through eyes of silent dearth
and death as breath escaping
flights of fury
cilice of a soul
unfurling life
like crimson shed
in water
blissful skies of sought ensconcing
molded by the want of naught
but for the promise
of demise eternal
more than earned
in life

[image credit: Harry Clarke]

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Relevant Rant

will we ever see beyond the trees
into the forest of illusions
set before us by ourselves
or are we simply at a loss
to bear this burden?

certainly, such implication
complicates the inferences
alluding to this state of indignation
which perpetuates the presence
of my acute consternation

do the constellations hold the key
unlocking unknown doors
to worlds beyond the chaos of existence?

is this counsel, self-contained
a crux which cancels itself out
a crutch our conscience uses
to ensconce us?

every question seems to touch
the realm of truth secluded
which eludes even those perspicacious
erring on most prudent

dedicated students of the mind
have yet to find an explanation
which defines our cosmic purpose

exponentially, our ponderance compounds
without exception
thereby instilling an exigence
unduly excess

we have set the boundaries
far beyond our wildest expectations
to the point of courting disappointment

with our inclination to usurp
our self-appointed power surreptitiously
supposing precedents unseen
which seem to propagate our dreams
so many silently believe

bereaving us of freedoms
rife with possibility
which would inspire community
instead of spurning hope for peace

sapience and salience
presumed part of our “sentience”
are scarcely exercised
or altogether compromised
despite the catastrophic impact
of our calculated actions
we continue on this fervid course
of forced dissociation

refusing to disseminate
the knowledge which facilitates
a self-sufficiency
that would, in turn, sustain society
without burning the bridges
to the people in positions
of imposed disparity based on factors
beyond their person

the irony is so profane
exceeding that which is insane
in fact, it’s that which only fools
would dare to claim not criminal

the truth of this reality
that humankind just cannot see
is every human stands to gain
when selfish hands release the reins
that led us all into substain

instead, with what we’ve stood to learn
so easily could we discern
that only through consideration
of each other, and each station
intrinsic within our being
can we truly attain freedom

kindness is not just a word
nor is it a notion absurd

it IS what all of us deserve

without it
there is only hurt

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Pasting the Past Into the Present

a poem is but
a restive cluster
grasping
onto pages
with our frantic
fears conspicuously
calling out
for rescue

meticulously poring through
decrepit thoughts
of hoarded visions
kiss to tryst
to triste
in a blissful
dissolution
before sediment
comes nigh
where sighs undress
our destitute descries

calculated coalescence
pandering our pride’s
priviest imprints
curling chips of paint
exposing throes
of yesterdays

sacred cruxes
born before
our burgeoning bereavement
from whence all
embarking destined
for a distant hearken
poised to be
impartially presented
in pretentiously penned
appropriations
parsed
to pierce our peers
appetition
to sate this
untold inquisition

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Pavlovian Lapdogs

petulant plebians pandering prose
spawned out of spite from depictions composed
of pithless and petty ploys poised to appease
a princess of poisonous pedantry peeved
with patrons plucked patiently tempered by pique
their person purloined spurred by spurious speech
supinely complying peremptorily
pliable pupils impaired by erred pleas
obsequious as pavlovian lapdogs
a precedent of appalling demagogue
imparting dispatch surreptitiously reaped
to pose such a perfect impression oblique
to passively present through public dispose
promotion of disreputable depose
to please their despot’s pathetic importunes
perilous plots born of perceived impugn
sparing none, for all are prone as her pawns
through solipsist eyes of contempt and despond

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rant of scant merit

I guess I’m an emotional masochist
because I always fuck everything up
far beyond the precipice
of merit propitious
 
Dare I say
it’s depressingly disconcerting
for it’s duly quite fervid
the ferocity with which I unfailingly inflict
this inbound bondage

I have deemed a living hell upon myself
whose reins I shall never relinquish

Nor shall I ever dispel
the curse that these verses disperse
on my pithless personage  

I search for the dirge
that might deign to divulge
my divergent urges
surging to ravage my visage
with savage compulsion
and vague supposition  

Vulgar and vile these vices I vaunt
when enveloped in venting 
with vanity’s wont

As I saunter hauntingly
to a daunting demise 

I witness this witless world
through wistful windows of time
since rescinded sans residual reticence
of rote compliance
that readily dotes on my amative recalcitrance  

To further articulate this artless affliction 
so to properly parse the veil of this valse 
lacking prevalent cause
prudent pause must be given
to parlay the amplitude of dispossession
so that I mayhap, per se
gain from said deprivation  

With all best intentions
mentioned ad infinitum
impressed upon god’s greatest audience of none  

Yet somehow I find
that the soul of my mind
ever shuns me thus spurring
to run underground
just so that I may hide
from this hideous horror
whorled in writhing

Undermining my chances to shine
with such vibrancy confined to contrivance
in idle contradiction to idyllic ideals

Where no sound is present
to presage profound plights
of piteous people persistently perishing
garishly sinking into sentient pits
of sapient despair

And here I lay
hapless in hyporeactive states
hopeless to extend a helping hand
bearing the selflessness of our sole salvation

To solve any quarrels of lore’s requiem
as ennui quandaries of quietus quell
squeamish skin squandered  

Acclimatization to scandal and scourges
encouraging naught but a purging averred

Spurious inference evinced disingenuously
a word so misused it defines what is wincing

Thrust upon miasmic oceans of plasma
in plumes plotting schisms of ruinous rue

Sophists usurping
poised with dissemblance
in spite of supinely presented sound pleas 

At which point I ponder
to pander implore
that you please apprise me
what purpose this is for

Aside from assuaging an aging aplomb
ere appearing as pompous
as this pen’s pathetically impaired plies
of reasoning so paltry

Alas, I digress
for my state of distress
is distorting the functions
compressing my chest  

Lest I cease and desist
I shall cease to exist
but at least I know this much
is blissfully true:
I am fucked
and I cannot resist
this fool’s fate
of such languorous
and lasting lamenting libration

Intent on selling my soul
to the devil in reveries 
of such voracious dyspepsy
and lack of discretion
so disseminating degrading the ground
that I share with my fellow
formations of foul indignation interred  

In tombs of tempestuous vestibules
flailing in failure
so profound it resounds and reverberates
in sonorous echoes
that beckon our reckoning
in this armageddon that hails from charred skies

Rippling throughout our decrepit contortions
condemned to a cold crippling morphine drip
faintly gripping death’s sinewless hand
where we lie

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Existence Remiss

lo, i know naught but an ignorance dire
inflicted upon those who dare court my ire
possessing scant patience for due diligence
i have no inclination to sate precedence
for all that i see is a world which devolves
revolving around me with heedless resolve
to suffer such consequence not born of my realm
indolent irreverence is a relic unsound
so profound is this bliss some might call it profane
still i’m bound to persist as they wither in vain
from the slithering stress steeped in sorrowful waves
such a grave indignation of conscience enslaved
abhorrent abomination i deign piteous
seeking sordid salvation of scorn hideous
sisyphean sell-outs diseased and distraught
such boolean fallout finds fools ever-fraught
with frivolous fears ere their failings forsooth
the fate of their frail bed of tears ailing truth
entailing an entropy expeditious
extrinsically linked to existence remiss

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How Can I

with time erodes the roads of hope
as seconds pass without distinction
wedged between the hourglass
in retrospect, a stranger’s fiction
e’er beholden to the past
shackled by fear’s ersatz depictions
diligently deconstructed
prone to dubious perceptions
doled out in fervid procession
sold out to our indiscretion
futures nigh belie the burdens
of reflective introspection
corporate chains restrain our choices
subjugated minds and voices
commandeering our convictions
volunteering our volition
fostering the hour’s dissension
lost inside our own dimensions
drifting states of lone diremptions
kissed by fate’s unknown afflictions
wistful days of rumination
stripped of our only salvation
dripping death with indignation
listless breaths of consternation
consciously resigned enslavement
viciously maligned by deviants
clamoring to hide misconduct
how can i but not give a fuck

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