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453

Where Life Comes From, And Where it Goes, Is like the Wind, Nobody tells me, and Nobody Knows.

A God, So Powerful, That he Created All? Where did he come from? And when Did he Fall?

Some sort of Explosion, A Big Bang, if you will, What causes Something? To Exist after Naught? If not retarded expositions, Into Foolish Thought.

To be clear, We are here, Chanting, Unrelenting,

Cognito Ergo Sum

Hoping thought is not a plot against us. Hoping reality is not a plurality and when it ends... It will be Over.

No more tricks and games, No More Suffering and Pleasure Planes, No More Heaven or Hell or Purgatory.

Just a simple end that doesn't require an Explanation.

Only complete existence Termination.

Where Life Comes From, And Where it Goes, Is like the Wind, Nobody tells me, and Nobody Knows. A God, So Powerful, That he Created All? Where did he come from? And when Did he Fall? Some sort of Explosion, A Big Bang, if you will, What causes Something? To Exist after Naught? If not retarded expositions, Into Foolish Thought. To be clear, We are here, Chanting, Unrelenting, Cognito Ergo Sum Hoping thought is not a plot against us. Hoping reality is not a plurality and when it ends... It will be Over. No more tricks and games, No More Suffering and Pleasure Planes, No More Heaven or Hell or Purgatory. Just a simple end that doesn't require an Explanation. Only complete existence Termination.

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[–] • 0 pt

I think the most important part about poetry is creating something which shows people the other side.

Yours appears deliberate, mine is mostly spontaneous. Would be a lot more prolific if I could just turn it on like that whenever I want.

[–] • 1 pt

Ya take the line,

Ya grease it with Slime,

And ya spike it in,

To what you spite,

Force you words,

Into ears,

And let them listen

To their own Fears.

Simple word,

Totality unheard,

And they won't read it

Anyway.

[–] • 1 pt

Totality unheard, And they won't read it Anyway.

"Pulse" Roses are red Poetry is gay but Theodore_Kent saves the day.

[–] • 1 pt

Theodore Kent, Turns the white Roses Red, After he dyes them with Niggers Blood instead,

Theo turns the black niggas purple, After he strangle them with the suspenders worn by Eurkle,

Theo write mad poetry and don't quit But Theo write poetry in the bathroom and don't shit,

No time to bust a Rhyme, When in the line, For a public bathroom, With a shit volcano, Bound to be a watery tornado