Hey fellas- read this for a second
Please follow my blog for social and political sattire! Oh the humor!!!
I really appreciate it!
PS: I’ll do you something in return... :)
- Antas & Me
He is or he isn't?
He’s going to do it, he’ll drink.
Or he won’t.
Think of me, that is.
He’ll do it.
We won’t last.
This wont work,
Nothing will suffice anymore,
These thoughts are the ones that linger after a long day
When I’m lying restless, to sleep.
And it seems like an impossible activity,
Because something infects my brain
Will not suffice
But this time,
I will die on the inside
A little less
Because I will expect it, and I’ll have known already
What exactly that faction of terror feels like.
The years of a hero
And the hero's tears
They only show at the ending of the night,
When everyone’s eyelids fall heavy shut, so the hero
Can yearn in silence of,-
The times that were misplaced, and the important
Moments that were unraveled in some pitiful wrongdoing
The times that,
When i look back upon,-
My head plummets into my palms, and i say
As if a romantic Relationship is nearly as tormenting
No one likes it,
When the hero getting wholesomely penetrated
By the wretched sword he inflict,
In that back alley passing.
Wenches with woes, that ween over that mis-victory, that is
And then the hero itself
Doesnt like it when a past fighter, holds the grain of another Hero.
And the hero screams and exclaims!
Burn that Hero!
Because They look like one.
Meanwhile, a useless fighter;
Wanes over those other Heroes, who may not even be.
The hero doesn’t like it when a past fighter, holds the hand of another Hero
No byg deel, lets just laye back wher no one can c mee, etcetera.
its lyke the pytch that i creeayte when iam scared, etcetera.
y do thei tawk so lowdli? or maybee it is normel, etcetera.
whut can stap these words bruther? maybee sumthin nice, 2 remembur frum a happe playce, etcetera.
No honey, all the sad places, just looked happy, etcetera.
Don’t worry, I don’t like it, but it’s real and it breathes; etcetera.
Don’t cry, we still love you,
mummi still lovs u, so just hush in2o a lawng sleep now, non.
go to sleep mumey is heyre darleng
Something I wrote when I was a prepubescent delinquent who yearned for a skateboard day and night
With one swift motion of my miniscule firing paw, I found myself abruptly slamming a dull white slab of wood, closing me off from the anger inhabiting the room just outside. I was an impubescent, scrawny eight year old. That was the only excuse besides my momentary, yet immense infatuation, for rudely whiplashing my vulgar feelings right at my parents faces.
Due to my ‘tom-boy’, rebellious phase as a kid, I developed this preposterous need to show everything off, and be considered cool, instead of girly. Of course as a result, I demanded a skateboard. The thought of the spinning wheels on the heated crisp summer pavement, and wind crashing into every crease of my clothes excited me. I pined for this plank of wood and glue with wheels attached, for weeks. Until finally I stepped up, ready to exhibit my request, or more so my demand.
A bead of sweat rolled down my left temple. My expectations were peaking, I knew that I would absolutely shoot down no for an answer, leaving with a grin screaming satisfaction on my face. After my complete oblivion to my surroundings and the possibilities of outcomes to my proposition, I plummeted down as if I were some barbaric peasant from another planet.
My quick witted, rational parents, sprung to decline my demand due to my derogatory behaviour that was vastly spiralling out of hand. In addition to this, I take you back to the beginning. Me, my anger and the door that severed me from my feelings and dire reality.
My First Time, In Light of Antas
I approached her place, before I opened the door slightly I heard her. She groaned, “moooo”. I was so confused, and fearful- did someone hurt her? Maybe someone left the tv on… or something.
I pushed the door fully open and entered. There I was, face to face with the eyes of a soul so pure and perfect. We said nothing, I advanced forward and got close to her. I reached my hand out and touched her. Silky, smooth, seductive… oh the haunting kind she was.
Her eyes said yes, and my heart was racing. I didn’t know what she was going to do but I finally felt like I was in the right place. My thoughts were jumbled, like the massive pile of receipts I have to sort through in order to do my taxes. But the moment, was timeless, and a living, breathing mammal she was, finally in my reach. How many nights I had spent, dreaming of caressing her soul with my secrets, and running from my facade, like a child playing tag.
With an eager moments passed, I placed my hand upon her breast. Her stare, dead into the windows of my soul, she shifted around, she looked down. Her eyebrows were dancing, like a drunken waltz, they were. Was she at peace? Have I made the most atrocious mistake of my life?
The moment was a thousand years. I grew old waiting for a response, waiting for anything to make me feel like I wasn’t being such an animal after all. Waiting for comfort. From her…
Thus, my friends, was the first time I had ever;-
Milked a cow
The Wonderfulness of Divinity
Isn't it wonderful, praising uncertainty? He loves me. But i only love Him because of his seat, and his scare. You know, he looks at you, hears you, senses you
He starves the darks, craves the pain to hand
He tests the loyal, when everything’s already deemed soiled
Master, works in mysterious ways
Though mysterious doesn't mean evil
He took my cherished, left my hate. Gave me bad, to fill the gate.
No one is alone, as he gazes through the peep. Booms with thunder, thrashing through your goosebump ridden skin. He obtains no simplicity.
He holds stoical, minus the initial sentiment
But how will we know, if he hands me the poison or the stacks
Reasoning aside, i love the wonderfulness of Him
He’s my favorite Peeping Tom.
And I am tired, you disappoint me, tirelessly
Aching, like the ungreased nuts and bolts and gears
Of an old machine, creaking and waning
Like the heart you so desire
As you say so
i am tired of
your accusatory stupor
And I’m tired of your belligerent sobriety
When you flail your arms
And your face begins to droop
so whatever do i do,
to please your unpleasable fiend
So stay away from me,
Your touch remains toxic
but all I want to be, is the care
of which you have forgotten
And all I wish
Is for you to exist
And you cannot whisper the things
That the elegant gale of the night does
When I am laying volatile
for the first time
i am sorry