[x]

The World Wide WebAll this information at our fingertips
Yet we choose to look at cats?
Freedom to voice our every thought
A privilege left unchecked
A steaming pit of tricks and trolls
Accessories now abused

Drowning in the vanity
And self obsessed depravity
Our lives uploaded; digitalised
Essence poured upon the screen

Entitled to an opinion
Set up for a response
Like throwing a lump of meat
To a pack of wild dogs

“Ten years ago, these people would not be allowed crayons,
Let alone use of the internet”

Suicide KillersHatred filtered through the hiss of steam
Ears deafened from the high-pitched scream
Agony streams liquid fire from the sky
A guided missile in a blood-stained eye
Death dances lightly with eerie grace
Tap-dancing over each upturned face
Fools impaled on blood-soaked rods
All in the name of their so-called Gods
And the devil laughs in endless glee
At the glorious stupidity of humanity

Morei.
my phone might be
already smarter
than I am -
"What do you think, Siri?"
"I agree."
but that doesn't mean
that I don't need
the newest one
(it's not just a phone
it's a lifestyle)
ii.
Life is for using.
Use it as much
as you can.
iii.
they need more
than can be given
it's addictive
look at us -
we have become
something impossible
to satisfy
iv.
(I am always hungry)
(sorry)
v.
maybe we already
have too much
too much money
too much glitter
too much
we don't need
vi.
We put the needle
to society's veins -
but still it's getting worse,
so we keep raising
the dose.
vii.
we are wasting
worlds
and ourselves -
need more worlds
need more selves
need m m m m o r e

CollapseWe stepped into Dystopia Land,
that midnight place
one bright September morning -
no doubt it was already coming,
yes, already we were on the brink,
but still,
do you remember that day
the lumbering dragon awoke,
twisted by the falling rubble
and fire,
symbols of what we were
pancaked into smithereens.

I remember,
I remember
the dust of our dreams,
tasting of fear,
the lost looking for those
they would never find again,
and we tasted the dust
of our perceived vulnerability,
discovering
that we too were open
to the dragon's bite.

For some, the dust
was opportunity -
looking with grim satisfaction
as the dust drenched the fleeing figure
of

Our Mother, Her Lady Lordship Our Mother, Her Lady Lordship

Her Lady Lordship
Fabu-ravishing temptress of the night
And Zena-esque Amazon by day
Enthroned and entombed eternally in crowds
Flowers, flour, children, chipmunks
All of it and none of it too.

She doesn't rest
E'er the wind blows and the heart finds something fond
Or the tempest throws a fit and a home
beneath waves of blue blood

Tar-poison ichor lymph
Shouting, fiery, "keep away!"; it does little
to sway the eight-legged creeping bloats
Tick-lodgers

Mutants
Half termite too are they, filthy little buggers
And part black mold as they exhale death and misery
What's worse, they breed rabidly

Never since Oedi

BlindAny pure ideology realized

is a disaster

Like all things in reality that are successful

they are a mix of ideas

shared offerings

Crowing about the failure of Communism

we refuse to see the horror

that is unfettered Capitalism

All That GlittersHeart etched in stone
fickle beauty
shallow symbol of love

The OthersThey are
But staggering wreckage
Dwellers of the open world
As kneeling subjects,
To its sporadic cruelty

We are
But a shape-shifting spectacle
Come to bloom for the eyes of our own
Garbed in excess
And slathered, in its bright, beaming mayhem

They are
But wandering misery
Tried by winds of contempt
And sheets of falling disdain

We are
But the weary privileged
Rotund
And marred with quiet apathy

They are
But the tired many
Huddled
Beneath a worn and tattered illusion

HandsI gave my hands to a palm reader,
and she saw through winged glasses,
through the etching of lines like hairs
like dancing spider's footsteps on my palms
what caused the feathering in the crossroads
of my heart line, and the ever present hangnails
parasitic on my skin.

She saw them soften in sinks, soap and hot water,
the persistent blue smudge beneath the third finger's
joint, the freckles painting me: Irish Spanish
Gypsy and yet somehow still English rose,
the lone marriage line telling how I'll only love once
(and myself thinking once quite optimistic,
with my innate selfishness) and all the while

seeing the way that, sometimes, my hand

Privacy Is DeadThere is no such thing as a secret
Privacy is a right no one can now obtain
Through acts of selfish maniacal arrogance
They used tragedies and deaths to restrain

Those in society who dare speak out
Are threatened mocked and scorned
While the very things we take in
Become the foot-piece of voices adorned

In power and vanity with our lives
Being the games they twist and claim
So when the darkness clouds come in
No one can speak out and denounce the name

Of the darkness rising higher
Choking the life out of you
Feckless in it's power and vice
It is the face of everything you do

Deepening and darkening they spy
Upon us as we go about our mer

ForeverI could lay here forever.
It's far better than any other feeling a teenager can feel.
I should stay here forever.
Who cares if this feeling isn't really real.
I will remain here forever.
Goodbye to all those who steal.
For when I'm gone forever,
you will have nothing left to "heal".
And when I'm gone forever,
who will notice I am gone?
Others have left forever.
The last one's name was Sean.
Will you join me forever?
I can promise you, the end is better than the beginning.
Come, stay with me, forever.
You think you are, but you're not winning.
Forever really is forever.
There's no turning back.
For when you're in foreverland,
there will be no

Layer CakePeeling back pieces of history to find the boy I used to be…
So much has changed, but I feel the same.

I seek sanctuary in the imagination of the man I have become.

But it all feels empty and numb.
I scour the night, eyes unadjusted and pupil’s enflamed.
I can feel my blood as it flows, each pulse blackening my vision
each thump deepening, burrowing deeper into my chest.
Headrush, blocking out all thoughts that irrationally flood my mind.
So many...
Too many, so that I keep drawing a blank.
Disconnected from my own reality.

… Who is this man that lacks conviction and desire.
Where is the confidence that could stare thro

sad shoesthree hundred
and eighty-four
thousand
shoes
have been sent
from Auschwitz
to Germany
take a pair
(what?
it's only
shoes)
wear them;
walk a mile
and tell me
how you feel

in the absence of a protesta piss-warm week-end
and the flock of quasi-contrarians
ambles from square to square,
girls, visionaries -
sundae heated ground/wading through the excrement
and scrubbing pigeon droppings from
white hair. (nothing
happens)

absurdist conceptions
surface and resurface and
subside again,
like a herd of
curious seals they
flash their latex muzzles.

when they scatter,
crowds will scatter too,
skewered in the comfort of the wheel of history,
(branded with a fried-black hole that is called
confidence
and "you can't fight distrust")
used to being used.

so we laugh
we laugh as we're being led to another bloody golgotha

but it lies so far

Freeverse #2Distant hands reach out,
And grab unsuspecting victims.
Entombing them in a veil of mist,
And mysticism, enhanced
By the internal void ever
Present in the collective heart
Of Humanity.

As hands grope, explore and touch,
Their unfortunate prey finds itself
Shivering in selfish delight, bottom lip
Clenched not by forced desire
But by a desperate longing
For a feeling; to be wanted
And lusted after.

And so the veil loses its mysticism,
Its mist and its ‘distant hands;’ for
They are replaced by a lover’s touch,
A kind whisper in your ear and a selfless
Friend whom will always be there for you.
A friend who will never let

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A Three-Sided Wound

. Rich looked around the convenience store as he walked in. A man who looked like he had lived through Hoover's days as a teen opened a pack of cigarettes by the window. Meanwhile, a giant with jet-black hair paid at the register for a lighter, some gasoline, and some bar soap. Those were the only customers he could see as he turned right toward the beverage aisle. He was pretty bored that overcast Saturday; all of his friends had been busy and it was too glum to do anything outside. Besides, he was fourteen- he didn't play outside anymore. He had no interest in video games and no siblings, so he decided to get some milk while his dad wor

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[x]

X's and Y's

by *Niyla, Jan 10, 2013, 7:17:13 AM
Literature / Poetry / Sociopolitical / Free Verse

comes down to the forty-sixth
I've got oaken leaves on the ashen strips
and they can't tell by looking in my eyes

there's nothing wrong with a simple life
based on anything else in the first forty five
but that's not what they want to hear me say

we could chat here for hours
about Halo or flowers
and there's no shame in liking them both

but at some point you'd ask me
to answer the question
so you could tell me which was wrong

I retreat to a world
made of crystal and pearl
with the beautiful boys
and the beautiful girls
so that I can be friends
with whoever I want
make a life for myself
based on what's in my thoughts
and can cry

at the near-perfect world
where the people are nice
and the morals are closer
to black and to white
it's a mess– pretty, though
and nature and harmony are king

but on earth I'm content
to hold ashes of oak
and of juniper
and hope that no one will ask

and hope that in October
the sixth, the forty-sixth
won't become a crude joke
about X's and Y's

X's and Y'sby *Niyla

Literature / Poetry / Sociopolitical / Free Verse

Personal concerns. I know it'll happen (probably already has), but I can still wish it won't.

I have about ten thematic allusions in here. See if you can find them.

Help improve it if you can spare the time- as long as you can explain your reasoning and put up with me potentially playing devil's advocate. Please don't tell me to capitalize the first word of every line though. Many thanks in advance

The Artist has requested Critique on this Artwork

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~Dragon-of-Twilight Jan 10, 2013 Hobbyist Traditional Artist

I've been wondering myself exactly what they'll be doing here...
I very much enjoyed this, Ni

but i'm not so good with critiques i'msorry ;n;

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*Niyla Jan 10, 2013

I suppose I was more worried about fan jokes than official stuff. Although now that you mention it, there's that too...

Anyway, thank you

_{_{and that's okey}}

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