personal afflictions Archives - Page 28 of 31 - All The Wrong Topics dot com

i refuse the humble opinion

‘whose…to deter…the sleeping becomes…’




grinding hell among us.

un-poetry-for-the-un-fucked-un-dividual…




13 drafts…

it crept and leaps through the ear and the eye constantly…




the 666 words

out of Context;
‘the tunnel grows sharp as it inserts and asserts itself in the anatomy of gesturing symbols… they twist apart and leave their striking point in the conscious plane… it changes from mouth to mouth for a chance to stick somewhere that it has never been before… a furious freak out that we can’t see as deftly as we need… under the surface, it mates itself sparingly with torrential outpouring of restless emotions…’




the coundensing of rhyme. the riddle divine.

Nine times…nines times, I have fought for these threads. the clerk nodded, absentmindedly.
seemed to agree with every word I said at-large. clearing his throat, he calmly replied cautiously.
What trouble would you have, sir? my defiant stand made him quite clearly affected, a silent stand.
the lone vagrant diatribe cautiously relents into the darkness of his forgotten intellect, a swine standing. there where a man just stood, relenting against a painful system infecting him. his twisting made leaps into the insecure nature of impact, as the crutches fell away to the floor, and he faced thunderous approach into a concrete surface. the flames ignited through a human anger flew and spewed to the floor. the scream at the end left no doubt at the intrigue in the wake of the apparent. Did you like that, cripple? he was not afraid to …




dribble the spittle.the perilous riddle

this tainted toss oozes lust from the crust

a dark dismay apparent with the skill of a ferret

sneaking the belittled bites into those filthy minds

what powers these mortals think they are squandering

from afar the sight seems wrecked, ramshackle, and split

the terror enters the secretions of the mob as the feelings pour

bleeding like crying for the benefit of more and taking less time spent

tinkling against the pavement becomes a game of thieves on high as fiends

totally aware that they taint and mash our dreams into the pie of belief and cream

bought, buying, sold are tastes of exquisite resonance as the thoughts dance forsaken

expanding fists into hands of needy remorse for lost wages tossed aside for the personal

war of the skill masked by faith in crime of life stealing met by chosen ones in the street level

size of force to manipulate the …




there is no tolerable commitment Here.

out of Context;
‘waving black flags in the distance, signaling to the others that the fray is still yet in motion, and moving to plunder the next method within this tempest of madness…’




SMALL WORLD OUT THERE CONSUMING ALL OF MANKIND

the rage the planet must feel at the tiny invading force enveloping and breeding like mad, but one day there will be justice…




collisions into responsibility

…and flowing from the night sky with grace and progress…the daydream of the habitual liar, and source of the extremity that was, the childhood impulse at large and streaking with that blazing sunset…what have you when you came here in the first place?…




this natural disaster

‘appealing…convenient…onto the table…’