My Way

A mish-mash of poetry scraps. Enjoy.

The sheep they bleat and eat the meat like pigs to slaughter

Beneath these martyrs curdled bloody deceit I wonder why I bother

Ambition my ammunition my mission among the omniscient, my proclamations my operation, an invitation for observation

There is no black and white in my world

Only grey

Grey for all my days

There is no self-pity, only hatred

My doctor has an erection for institutions, correctional facility’s, hospitalization, psychiatry that licensed me, a professional epidemic of power over the patient, unequally created, I need to have a confessional, a stagnated amalgamation, let the grey fated world unfurl murderous war from its imminent indigo shores covered with cold sores on the minds left behind to fade into the waves of annihilation wade in cremation, bathe in castration, eviscerated, enumerated in palpitations, educated, infatuated with your irradiated eradication

Occupational lacerations sinking in the rain invasion, drown your drinking, dead but still thinking

Skyscrapers stretching into destiny, thin as blank white paper, empty as unwritten pages a reclamation of words, conversations never to be heard

Injustice is justified

Prideful is homicide

Trust in your alibis

Dusted in paradise

Just like a parasite

I can taste my lungs the unsung words

A crippled winged bird abandoned on the earth

This bird can either give up completely, or fly fleetingly

You can either grovel at the other critters feet, or you can walk with them

Life’s a set of stairs, there are those of us who fall

With His sentiment, resolve, renovate, reclaim these lonely halls

If someone tries everyone can be anything, youth is fruitful refuse of uselessness, ruthless is the future, do not lose your purpose, no one is worthless

You will feel my might, your passivity, pitifully

I do not breathe animosity

Crawling shadows bathe the battleground

Garnered the truth, modernized youth

The OCD gives me fertility in versatility through my bullet-riddled humility

Sacrament at best is a lack of effort that I test

Life is upside down hell is the stairway to heaven

Leave scars on my closed up eyes realized

Sow together my burning letters like literature leather and sentences my memories to a lifetime of poems like paragraphs, ink tattooed on the computer screen, copy what’s been deleted, my fingers hold all my secrets, my tongue is undefeated, the regard with my spit splattered meanings, my reason cadavers of resilience, prose is God’s brilliance inaugurated the billions vermillion Evangelion

It can be simple, it can be complicated, either way, I vomit paper pages

Paragraph poems of rage potent osmosis comatose eternal virtual in surgical murder

I am purged of my future

My past has been neutered

Songs of flutes, persecution

I will move through the ruins

Of my bested retribution

Resolute illusions, are the only proof of my evolution

It’s a fight I’m losing

It’s my right, to lose

It’s my choosing, my way

Brooding braiding in the haven of war-waging ravens raging maven desperation radiated

Prove a different solution, flocking apocalypse 

Navigating hatred, soothing murderous 

Impervished in the silent subservient 

My way is murmuring, disturbed in the curving curb of pavement blazing saying mayhem

I travel my own trails, like the fables wail, and hail salem, unfailing

Author's Note

I very seldom reply to reviews, but I promise I read EVERY single one. I look forward to my next review, because it helps me learn. Even if it's just one word, I promise, I will be ecstatic to have the chance to hear what you have to say. Whenever you write something about my poems, or the themes of my poems, or criticize me it is not in vain. I will listen, learn and be thankful.

Reviews

[.]

Everyone has the right to choose their way. Once you are determined no one can stop you from reaching your destination and it would be wonderful wen you reach to that height!
Loved this poem, it's beautiful and I would suggest working a bit more on imagery... Otherwise this is perfect arrangement of words to it's theme.

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you MC, there are a bunch of old poems in my computer that I'm trying to share, like this one. They might not be quite as good though, because they were written over half a year ago.

[.]

So I see how you have improved within half of a year! That's good... I have poems written within an hour and some incomplete ones written a year ago and not yet completed.
I think this happens when I write something without feeling or absorbing emotions fully and anything that happens in an hour, definitely has a strong emotion involved in it. So I don't work on the poems like them once I lose interest but they are actually to see improvements. I have poems that used to make me proud but when I write the next ones, I can find out my follies in the previous ones.
Anyway, I can say you were a good writer even six months ago and you will be better in next six months.
Good Luck!

[R.J Calzonetti (SinisterPotatoe)]

Thank you! I'm happy to hear you say I was good even then. You were too. I agree, funny how these poems seem so decent, until time passes and you surpass them. Either way, I'll be back to newer poems soon. Just need to finish these ones, so they can finally be something.