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 them to where we are now. 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.

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

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

rant of scant merit

I guess I’m an emotional masochist because I always fuq 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 fuqd 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.

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

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

Elaboration

spoken word is often heard to herd our thoughts en masse
in subdivisions subject to succinctly shorn abash
with tethered tongue endeavor we to eloquently air
ineffable expressions deftly doled out so to spare
gauging our engagements with gratuitous refrain
allowing temporal allotment basis to abstain
from artfully articulating free to affectate
inflection efflorescing to reflect what best relates
when clearly this impairs our proper prepense to impart
by misappropriating that which would impel our heart
predictably afflicting our intended utterance
thus rendering our voice as ineffective abeyance
which leaves us floundering to falter ineffectual
destined to descend depths of diligence misconstrued
should we decree our thoughts conveyed to show evincible
we could forgo distraught dismay deemed reprehensible
for implications minced from assertation’s open end
are subject to inferences of infinite amend
thus, i submit commitment to the full breadth of nuance
in all asseveration to disseminate ensconce
for time must be considered far beyond the imminent
lest we spend all eternity on spurned expedience

social media rant revisited

depression sets in

cyclical perpetuity prying
clawing at the prefrontal cortex

altruistic assertions abundantly articulated
aimlessly amid atmospheres of apathetic arrogance

the pittance of positive people
professing palpable parable
is repeatedly passed over
spurned, and disparaged
for the perverted purpose of pandering
to the plight of pathetically puerile opponents
to placate their pathological penchant
for proliferated pandemonium

the spirit of selflessness
and subsequent sanctuary is subjugated
by solipsistic sentiments
that seem to spread
like pestilence plaguing the soporific populace

seeking to appease
the silent sect of surrogate shamers
tiptoeing through the treacherous tumult
presaging tales of omnipresent fear
with foreboding and pale trepidation

all too typically trivialized
by tiresome talk of intolerant tripe
tailored to tantalize stolid thinkers

in triumphant tantrums of truant intellect
inflecting in facetious affectation
fostering false intent so toilsome

tempting my intrinsic inclination
to defect and deactivate
with the hope of abating this state of inundated hatred
bred into my head by the hordes

of men faceless whose faith
one can only surmise to be heedless

so, needless to say my dismay
is with relevant reason
enough to release this lost soul
into sempiternal egress

Answer: Ego

why must our presence present as pendulous peril perpetually passing between plausible purpose and predisposed plight prolonging pandemonium to placate pedestrian pedantry perpetrated by apathetic progenitors to please their pathetically primitive predilection for perpetuant personal prospect through perfunctory procreation parsimoniously placing province and perdurable pain on the passively plucked personifications of their phantom permanence?