Broken, Death, Life, Love Eternal

Broken, Death, Life, Love Eternal

A Poem by Chad Saville
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6 minute read 11 minute read - Spokenword out loud 1330 words

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The first word is always the hardest; it's like throwing trust at a batter ready to hit it the farthest see it go away; handing you these lyrics to be tossed at bay; nothing to say to this outspoken boy�"who is trying to adjust, that must be thrust into a�"delay; it's so cliche. With a tattered trust, acting the smartest, aspiring and dying to be a defying devout decisive artist. Listen, before my words turn to stardust; this life is on the crumpling cusp; I'm a tsar bomb ready to combust.

And should I be stressing, in what I be messing, should I be confessing, addressing, how life is depressing. Loathing my mock slur wee voice as I talk, betrothing it awkwardly as I walk. My mind is a blur, slower than Atari but progressing faster than a lead Warhawk, as if a lion chased a crackhead safari car. Are we�"at bedrock? What was I saying, sorry, I forgot; as I jot down this halve thought.

My masked moment is medical, most of the mass movement is heretical of high hope's here highly hulling hypotheticals. Stuck in a state of melancholy. Struggling in a loll reality, to free oneself of the canal pit of anomie. Suffering from my blunt honesty as well as In a dishonest selling trolly giving a high quantity of fib novelty handing my self-infliction subconsciously. I'm a rebelling wally, in a mad mental maliced quarrel split, rather dwelling in folly than confess of being a hypocrite.

Holding my hate, this heavy frate, is enough to sedate this ill drippy mind. As masticate on words that are past their prime. I'm a fired slate, an expired date. In a chill little hippy state. Blind, wrapping himself up into an intentional bind; always late, wasting time, just has to wait. He's a guy looking for a sign until it hits him in the face; acting like he's fine, then turns into a big emotional flail mace, and then hoping that he can find some manipulative notional space, a fail-safe.

I'll invite you inside, lock you up, force you to confide in me; won't set you free, I'll swallow the key. Shoving what's within on you to see; to stand this landslide of my personal cyanide; committing connection colluded homicide. As I plead, I'm full of pride; I lied in what I truthfully testified to you, every time through on through, I bet you don't know what to do, smacked against this dead sea tide. You went to twist back the abhorred awful askew, you tried. But now you should put the defy aside and abide in me, to follow a void eyed guide, who's mentally messed up, a gaudy emcee.

Now what I said is said. Finding a path that'll tread I'll tread. Stapling wounds that bled still bled. laying my head, as I dread of the big bad boogie man hiding under my bed; only told it's a sprig of a bad dream one gig of a really sad scene, it might seem. But as I have seen, I run upstream. Feet weighing a ton; me crying a stream for it be done; clawing what long has been and come from; stuck in between this fallible fleshy fool brain of gangrene presenting my soulless sly selfish pyramid scheme, if you hear what I mean?

I want to be the same as you are. It sounds bizarre but listen through. I want to be as loved and wanted just as you; not fused in tar; free, happy and hopeful as you do; seemly bemused and ajar. Yet, noticing identical bruised scars I ignored to inset; It might be untrue, who you view due to you running anew to the misconstrue. He mirrors your tears of this you have gone through; she retains your pains that miss and dawn few. I want to be wanted, you needily look to be needed, however, ironically we act conceited; forgetting we are all cheated, mistreated, more or less defeated. Can we live on freed instead gone to mislead on what is misread and unsaid?

And My masked moment is medical, most of the mass movement is heretical of high hope's here highly hulling the hypothetical. To compare what I think is unfair. Beaten down, given tunnel vision having a head-on collision of my clear toll; real despair; left in disrepair; taking this outspoken needle to be awoken, fearful. I'm badly ruptured, outcasted, knocked; extremely needful.

Drained out of care, a gutted mare; a strained drought where�"not being heedful I share this hardened snare of backhanded treacherous evil I befell. Stressed and short of breath, really felled, not on meth. No time to prepare for dissolution end and tomb held�"dealt for me in how it was spelled, aware that I might dedusely wear in what I obtusely swear as you can tell. In unleashed words, saying what herds, letters that bottom barrel curd. Profusely acts like a tongue Bruce lee, free to bruise thee, drub noose ye be then be happy ol' fun me. Yet, I'm actually pretty useless, spineless, a crappy cold unfree beaten lion nothing he be defeatin', toothless. Less than timeless and basically mindless, ruthless.

Seeking out mercy, yet my windows are so drastic and blurry, blocked out by those non-woe of row upon row of sarcastic pure glee that attack me like a cur as they decree. Perhaps you can sure see, I'm practically stalked by selfless constant controversy. Why do I have to be in such prose, deadlocked in being so bombastic and wordy, it's lyrically gross? I ploce the most rife, to enter smut free, to living in full energy. Was too close to an overdose of unfettered gutsy. Roll of the dice, I almost boast in what I thought I would never see the riven vice. Regarding a bettered reality of peace; strife that would best cease, as far as the west is from the east. The berceuse that tamed my wild of child beast has been song finally at least.

Down pay to die to sin, given the power to snap devil's violin; smash the foundation of the this corrupted tower. It's sweet en sour, for maybe half an hour, copyrighted new, now it's sloppily writed too. How we sit divided through pain; we cower disunited to share what relates, the same; instead we put on a mask to debase our past so no one can ask how we were lambaste and left in the rain. Now free, we can chase a vain campaign that will leave us slain with no traces of grace. We deemed to search in all the wrong places for longing of the varily esteemed. But we rather focus on political racists, unfair sly cases to be that keyboard hero that we have dreamed, so we can better our facebook and Myspaces enables us to put on our fake faces thinking this is how we are redeemed from our tears.

I want to change the utmost. I'm trying, uttermost prying to be myself; Crying a mutter of a strange ghost of common wealth to bowse. Throwing down my pride, my mange subside; no more shutter of disarrange, morose and bellicose to be snide. Firing my carried stern demon, seeing that we all have a varied reason for hurt, our defence turret. I'm looking to learn than dubiously dig in a desert to be buried in feelin', to collide; I take the time to discern, strive and yearn to know all have cried that we all have our bruised beaten battered Mr. Hyde to hide inside.

But my masked moment is medical, most of the mass movement is heretical of high hope's here highly hulling these hypotheticals. I'm seeking forgiveness that vastly destroyed the ghastly. Which I flatly humble myself to receive. I believe I'm defined not what I grieve but by grace; broken, put out to conceive death came to achieve life, massed of three, for it was caste free love endless truth endured rightly, never aged lastly.

© 2019 Chad Saville


Author's Note

Chad Saville
Ignore grammer, might need a reread to understand, punctuation isn't the best. Sounds better read out loud

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Added on September 16, 2019
Last Updated on September 16, 2019
Tags: Broken, death, life, love, eternal, poetic, poetry, bombastic, wordy, Christian, Spokenword, long, emotional, honesty

Author

Chad Saville
Chad Saville

Smithers, Bc, Canada



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