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Unread 10-11-2012, 11:12 AM
Baron Mynd
Join Date: May 2006
Posts: 261
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Default The Baron Mynd Topical Archive

just a collection of my old(er) verses as some of LB might not have seen these before.


"AinT GoT No How WhaTchumacalliT!" (Kurt Cobain Tribute)
04-19-2007


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Young_cobain.jpg


To those who had known him a while, the jovial smile bestowed by this child...
...Was thrown to beguile, masking the one thing he'd hold in revile -
His parent's divorce!
An unbearably fraught event which left him fairly distraught...
...And it was there in the courts, where he was taught to avoid sharing his thoughts.
The air of remorse, shrouding the issue...
...Made it one he'd never dare to discourse.
Kurt became reclusive, and remained secluded in the bedroom where he played his music.
He'e tape acoustic sets from each of his favourite acts, to play them back...
...holding a great attachment, to what each sixty-minute tape would capture.
Elated rapture beamed from his face, as Kurt embarked...
...To purchase his first guitar, which played a major factor in his change of stature.
He strangled the strings, and sang with a grimace as the anger within him...
...Was channeled and driven, through those amateur hands with precision.
And Kurt roared with angst long before the chance had arisen...
...To pour his vast lyricism over coarse clamorous rhythms!
The rasping emission of his howling vocal chords, evoked applause...
...And of his own accord, Kurt was shown a warmth he'd never known before.
His well honed performance soon pertained a slew of rave reviews...
...As on stage he moved, in a way attuned to captivate the room.
The dreary basement proved of great refuge to one so hate consumed...
...A place removed of all the tasteless rumours that shaped his mood.
And here Kurt became marooned with papers strewn around his desk...
...He found it kept him grounded nestling down in his surrounding mess.
But inside the basement, Kurt's eyes awakened with wide elation...
...As they fell on the pine encasement aligned adjacent that tried his patience.
In there he would find an ancient shotgun that was primed and waiting...
...For Kurt to pen his final statements, in a song with no rhyme or cadence.
How could one so silent natured, of grown so tortured in measure?
To those who had known him a while,

That jovial smile will haunt us forever.

http://www.cs.wisc.edu/~pachu/images/note.jpg


---------- Post added at 10:12 AM ---------- Previous post was at 10:10 AM ----------

"Do You Remember YOUR First Time?!"
04-28-2007

http://www.txmx.de/grafix/graffworx_...graff_3024.jpg


Do you remember YOUR first time?

You were probably as nervous as me,
But determined to see, what your words could achieve ..
.. Once you’d emerged on the scene,
And could turn a serene, canvas into something worthy of dreams.
Graffiti served as the means,
To which I applied my stirgent belief ..
.. And I pursued the matter ‘til my shoes were splattered -
With more paint than ANY amount of detergent could bleach!
For years I’d nurtured a deep yearn for release ..
.. And so these turbulent streets,
Spurred me to keep, trying and further my reach.
With earnest I seized upon a resplendent urge to be seen,
Skirting the reams of this fervent retreat -
Where me and the walls coarse naked surface would meet!
It's massive girth would intrigue me to turn up my sleeves ..
.. And stir from beneath,
The girders that keep it supported from the scourge of the heat.
These walls deserved to be teemed with a certain prestige,
And so I sternly besieged, it's heights...
...With a piece of chalk held firm in my teeth.
Concerned with its each and every line being perfectly pieced ..
.. I furnished its featureless plains,
Until my work was complete.
And for years I’d nurtured a deep yearn for release ..
.. Skirting the reams of this fervent retreat,
With an urge to be seen.
As these walls deserved to be teemed with a certain prestige ..
.. And I was determined to see, just how my work was perceived.
Now gone are the perfectly pieced, works that served as my dreams -
Lost in the rain that washed them away,
So the naked walls surface could gleam.

Peace.



"Elephants Never Forget: The Elephant Never Forgot


"What a splendid head, yet no brain."
Aesop

http://www.unexplained-mysteries.com...ephant_man.jpg

From the age of five,
My face comprised, of distinct growths that ranged in size ..
.. and plagued my mind,
When I’d hear the hateful jibes, my classmates devised.
The torrential torment was often initiated by,
Bullies that would take the time ..
.. To state unkind, spates and lies, until they had made me cry.
Empty tears cascade the sides, of my craniums strange design ..
.. And with grace they slide,
Over my shapeless guises grey confines.
The great despise I faced at times, would duly strip away my pride ..
.. But Mother often told me,
“Beauty’s nothing but a state of mind,”
And I held her sweet words with me, up until the day she died ..
.. As they were right,
And I was stronger than the pain I faced inside.
My father would later find,
A stately sprite, to make his wife ..
.. Who placed her spiteful talons, well in view of his grateful sights.
Her waves of white,
And ageing lines, had made her face refined ..
.. But she was as cold and calculated, as a sculpture made of ice.
Her severe disgust was noted,
Through each of her weighted sighs ..
.. And she’d leave the room at the faintest sight, of my heinous plight.
For months she gamely tried,
To exploit this great divide ..
.. Culminating in the deft ultimatum that came to light,
“It’s either I go, or he goes!” she’d proclaim with spite ..
.. And I raged inside,
When asked to leave our estate that night.
I found myself out in the cold world,
With no place to hide.
Followed by the japes and snipes, of children that raced me by.
My deformity meant,
Looking for work was a waste of time ..
.. As nowhere would accept such a disfigured face as mine.
Then to my ornate surprise,
A fly-poster graced my eyes ..
.. About a travelling freak show that sought my distasteful kind.
The pay was trite,
But so were most jobs in these days and times ..
.. And I felt somewhat insubordinate as they caged my hind.
The steel curtain was raised in time,
To meet the publics scathing pries ..
They never saw me, just the disfigured mask I’m portrayed behind.
When one day a saintly guide,
Would enter to change my life ..
.. “Dr. Treves” he stated quite, profoundly. I remained uptight.
His gaping eyes,
Fell on my hideous growths that had stabilized ..
.. And he informed me,
He could help to investigate their rise.
So I moved to Whitechapel Hospital, where I’d the greatest time ..
.. And Doctor Treves,
Removed pockets of flesh from my face and spine.
I yearned to be ‘normal’ again -
To sleep as I faced the sky ..
.. A comfort I hadn’t known in years, due to my heads weight and size.
It was during my attempt in the dawn of one fateful night,
That upon my own stupidity,
I would suffocate and die.
Empty tears cascade the sides, of my craniums strange design ..
.. And with grace they slide,
Over my shapeless guises’ grey confines.
The great despise I’d faced at times, had duly stripped away my pride ..
.. And Mother had told me,
Beauty was nothing but a state of mind.
I held those true words with me, up until the day I’d died ..
.. But these people never saw me,

Just the disfigured mask I was portrayed behind.

- Joseph Carey Merrick
5th August 1862 – 11th April, 1890

http://www.biologie.de/w/images/1/14/Merrick.jpg

TOPICS: "Human Freakshow"
"Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in."
Amy Lowell


TOPICS: It`s The Worst Day Of Your Life. Why?
Again?

"The Nightmare Before Christmas”

http://www.picturegrill.com/images/c...tachimney.jpeg


Don’t you just fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives?
That meticulous time,
When soft mittens comprise, snowmen of formidable size ..
.. From the thickets of white,
Sitting astride, the distant horizon.
The winds cold, briskly respite, navigates deciduous pines ..
.. Whistling by,
On its mission-less guide, where with pure intuition it finds ..
.. A lonesome snowman,
That glistens with pride, deep in the dark midst of the night.
Abandoned by his creator,
The young girl was forced to kiss him goodbye ..
.. Leaving him cruelly exposed,
To the adoration of which he despised.
His movements restricted,
By the barren branches that stick from his sides ..
.. And so he sits in the silence,
Bitterly frightened, with his pummelled face missing an eye.

I used to love it.
Christmas had always been a favoured fixture of mine ..
.. And often I reminisce on the times,
When anticipation meant the hairs on my neck would bristle and rise.
Mother was quick to surmise,
That I had to be asleep before Saint Nick would arrive ..
.. But I’d sit with my eyes,
Firmly affixed to the blinds, awaiting the glorious gifts he provided.
I awoke, both betwixt with surprise, and of startled relief ..
.. Heading downstairs,
Where my father would be, clutching the star for the tree.
With his assistance,
I’d place it on top as he marvelled at me ..
.. Then open up my presents as I sat perched on the arc of his knee.
I made a metropolis,
From our laminate flooring that was sparkling clean ..
.. My remote control car,
Traversing the length of our house and all parts in between.
Elated rapture exuded,
From my smile in the most ardent of beams ..
But one year in particular,
I could sense the pretence in her parlance of glee.
It was only when I witnessed,
My dear Mother starting to weep ..
.. That I realised,
She was harbouring me, from the darkest of secrets…

And I guess this is where my hate of Christmas derives,
I was six at the time,
When it broke my heart into pieces.
My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
She proved hard to crack,
And when she did - I still struggled hard to believe it.
All that me and Mommy could then do,
Was start from scratch,
The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
And this is why I fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives,
Cause now I’M the lonesome snowman,
Out in the dark midst of the night.
That puerile pile you’ll find out on the distant horizon,
Cold
Heartless
Unable to move on, and sitting in silence.
Abandoned by my creator,
But with his memory’s still rich in my mind,
I was six at the time,
And it broke my heart into pieces.
My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
She proved hard to crack,
And when she did - I still struggled hard to believe it.
All that me and her could then do,
Was start from scratch,
The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
My father had died from a multiple heart attack,
And that’s why all I want for Christmas THIS year is my father back.

Peace.

http://www.picturegrill.com/images/c...christmas.jpeg
TOPICS: I Have Nothing Else
Find Your Happiest Memory
“You Cannot escape The Responsibility Of Tomorrow By Evading It Today”
Abraham Lincoln


Dancing In The Darkness

"We improve ourselves by victories over ourselves. There must be contests, and you must win."
Edward Gibbon


http://files.turbosquid.com/Preview/...82a2dLarge.jpg


The prestigious penis withdrew,
And we were the fruits, of the loin that he had produced ..
.. While keen to pursue,
His deepest intrusion, upon the reams of your womb!
Secreted in gloops of gleaming diffusion,
From the semen that oozed ..
.. We could merely peruse, our new surroundings...
...'til we were free from its juices!
The confines of this crowded, carnal, sphere were intrusive ..
.. But sensing the freedom that loomed,
My flailing flagellum flounced with the most sweeping of movements!
I seemed to accrue,
A greater strength, self-belief, and speed as I moved ..
.. strategically through,
The barrage of blood cells that tried to keep me from you.
Traversing each of the flumes,
Within your in-experienced tubes ..
.. Destined to be the one your fertile egg would greet with confusion!
It was here I witnessed,
Life’s true maternal seamstress in bloom ..
.. Piercing the egg’s epidermis until I’d been completely consumed.
It was also deep in the womb,
Steeped in seclusion, that as a fetus I grew ..
.. Forced to breathe through the tube, that would also feed me with food.
Thanks to those bites of sustenance,
That I’d been receiving from you ..
.. It would take me just three quarters of a year to leave this featureless room.
I left, feeling subdued,
To find mother with strange men standing beside her ..
.. As I’d been delivered from the greatest temptation of man:
The Vagina!

- 17 Years Later -

My prestigious penis withdraws,
From deep in the core, of a nubile virgin’s eager succour ..
.. Pleading for more,
Of that secretive lure, she’d keep in her drawers!
An angel with fallopian lips,
And a chaste sweetness so pure ..
.. I spared her innocence not even the most fleeting of thoughts,
As I eased in the taut, opening my penis would thrust -
See, all us men are delivered from temptation…

…Then we spend the rest of our lives trying to keep it in touch!

The Vagina!

Haha,
Peace!

"Most people would like to be delivered from temptation but would like it to keep in touch."
Robert Orben


"Deflowered Rose"

http://img1.imagetitan.com/img1/1/16/vandam.jpg


Under the guise of darkness, lies a heartless, guy who hides the carcass ..
.. of a seven-year-old school girl back in his high rised apartment.
She’d tried her hardest,
To escape the ropes he’d tied her arms with ..
.. before the tyrant started to divide her garments,
And molest the child regardless.
The violence started, once she’d rejected his evil suggestion ..
.. he beat her ‘til her cries for help, were little more than silent yelps.
The pungent stench of his stale breath, clung to her pale flesh ..
.. and she balled her fists at each sordid kiss,
Placed upon her by his morbid lips.
A single finger prised open the pink insides of this shrinking violet ..
.. and as his assertive hand plundered her cervic glands -
He barely blinked an eyelid.
Rose couldn’t bring herself to meet the glare of this demon,
So, tearfully, she stared at the ceiling - Feeling her innocence tearing and bleeding.
Her tormentor had climbed, the lengths of her thighs and ventured inside ..
.. Clenching the sides of her face -
To reveal the dark intent in his eyes.
Tensions were high, as the monster snarled through pristine dentures of white ..
.. And spat in the young girl’s face,
Where a mass of fear and resentment preside.
The animal lengthens his strides, as beads of sweat secrete from his pores ..
.. The heathen ignores her pleas for remorse -
His sickening lust still eager for more.
With arms that are strong and sculpted, and veins that feed him copious strength ..
.. he gropes for her neck, holds her over the bed, and chokes her to death.
Poor Rose had tried her hardest, to escape this violent hardship ..
.. Now her lifeless carcass, sits on a dirty mattress back in his high rised apartment.
And under the guise of darkness, lies a heartless guy who’s prides departed ..
.. His lone physique roams the streets,
While looking to find his targets…




"Washed Up!"

http://www.funerella.com/graphics/gr...r8st2qw1ro.jpg

.
.
.

Do you remember when you would call me yours?
When I was the savvy sailor navigating those stormy shores;
And you were the burlesque barmaid we all adored,
The first female that I’d fallen for...


“...All aboard!”


...I guess I’d always been too afraid of letting go;
‘Cos you never know what can happen when you’re caught in the ebb and flow.
But I was carried away by the current and swept to the side;
Where I found myself drowning in the deepest, dark, depths of your eyes.
As their replenishing grace lashed over me,
I embraced it strong,
And with a sharp intake of breath, I would gladly take the plunge.
You were the mermaid on the barnacled buttresses I braved collision,
As I courageously steered my stern vessel on its maiden mission.
But simultaneously I found myself in a strange position;
Because I’d always been careful not to go overboard with inane decisions.
Yet our relationship was as open and free as the oceans and seas;
From the moment you seized my heart,
Gone were my loneliest needs.
And I was thrown in the deep end where you left me amazed;
Where I leapt in elation while riding on the crest of that wave.
I was so desperate to make a splash, I kid you not, I did the lot...
...As you were the beacon up in the lighthouse,
That guided my ship to dock.
But I soon found it wasn’t all plain sailing attached to you;
Even though I’d gladly choose to do what you asked me too...
...And sometimes I’d call you a “Beach” behind your back, it’s true.
But much like the incoming tide,
I’d come crawling back to you.
Yet there was a lot more to me than the guy you’d always see;
Beneath the calm surface lay a cold, scathing, storm at sea...
...You’d drifted into the arms of another as I watched you float;
And up fecal firth with no paddle,
I decided to rock the boat.
But my emotions turned like the tides, and I fostered regrets...
...As you probed my turbulent mind, for what had got me upset.
And then I watched as you wept, on the docks with the jetty;
Before dragging your body down to those same rocks where you met me...
And waves of anger crashed over me alone where we stood;
As I thought to myself “If I couldn’t have you, then nobody would.”
But I was already in too deep,
And that much I’d admit.
I tried pushing her onto the rocks, but during the struggle – I slipped!
And I fell backwards, hearing her gasping screams suddenly stop,
As I hit the ground –The true meaning of Love On The Rocks.
Now I’m just deadwood,
Tossed and thrown around these stormy shores...
...And you’ll forever be the only female I’ve fallen for.
But you’ll never wash my blood from your hands,
No matter what you pass them through.
And much like the incoming tide,
I’ll come crawling back for you...


Beach.

Last edited by Baron Mynd; 10-11-2012 at 11:19 AM.
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Unread 10-11-2012, 11:12 AM   #1
 
Baron Mynd
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Join Date: May 2006
Voted: 0 audio / 0 text
Posts: 261
Mentioned: 26 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Send a message via MSN to Baron Mynd
Default The Baron Mynd Topical Archive

just a collection of my old(er) verses as some of LB might not have seen these before.


"AinT GoT No How WhaTchumacalliT!" (Kurt Cobain Tribute)
04-19-2007


http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Image:Young_cobain.jpg


To those who had known him a while, the jovial smile bestowed by this child...
...Was thrown to beguile, masking the one thing he'd hold in revile -
His parent's divorce!
An unbearably fraught event which left him fairly distraught...
...And it was there in the courts, where he was taught to avoid sharing his thoughts.
The air of remorse, shrouding the issue...
...Made it one he'd never dare to discourse.
Kurt became reclusive, and remained secluded in the bedroom where he played his music.
He'e tape acoustic sets from each of his favourite acts, to play them back...
...holding a great attachment, to what each sixty-minute tape would capture.
Elated rapture beamed from his face, as Kurt embarked...
...To purchase his first guitar, which played a major factor in his change of stature.
He strangled the strings, and sang with a grimace as the anger within him...
...Was channeled and driven, through those amateur hands with precision.
And Kurt roared with angst long before the chance had arisen...
...To pour his vast lyricism over coarse clamorous rhythms!
The rasping emission of his howling vocal chords, evoked applause...
...And of his own accord, Kurt was shown a warmth he'd never known before.
His well honed performance soon pertained a slew of rave reviews...
...As on stage he moved, in a way attuned to captivate the room.
The dreary basement proved of great refuge to one so hate consumed...
...A place removed of all the tasteless rumours that shaped his mood.
And here Kurt became marooned with papers strewn around his desk...
...He found it kept him grounded nestling down in his surrounding mess.
But inside the basement, Kurt's eyes awakened with wide elation...
...As they fell on the pine encasement aligned adjacent that tried his patience.
In there he would find an ancient shotgun that was primed and waiting...
...For Kurt to pen his final statements, in a song with no rhyme or cadence.
How could one so silent natured, of grown so tortured in measure?
To those who had known him a while,

That jovial smile will haunt us forever.

http://www.cs.wisc.edu/~pachu/images/note.jpg


---------- Post added at 10:12 AM ---------- Previous post was at 10:10 AM ----------

"Do You Remember YOUR First Time?!"
04-28-2007

http://www.txmx.de/grafix/graffworx_...graff_3024.jpg


Do you remember YOUR first time?

You were probably as nervous as me,
But determined to see, what your words could achieve ..
.. Once you’d emerged on the scene,
And could turn a serene, canvas into something worthy of dreams.
Graffiti served as the means,
To which I applied my stirgent belief ..
.. And I pursued the matter ‘til my shoes were splattered -
With more paint than ANY amount of detergent could bleach!
For years I’d nurtured a deep yearn for release ..
.. And so these turbulent streets,
Spurred me to keep, trying and further my reach.
With earnest I seized upon a resplendent urge to be seen,
Skirting the reams of this fervent retreat -
Where me and the walls coarse naked surface would meet!
It's massive girth would intrigue me to turn up my sleeves ..
.. And stir from beneath,
The girders that keep it supported from the scourge of the heat.
These walls deserved to be teemed with a certain prestige,
And so I sternly besieged, it's heights...
...With a piece of chalk held firm in my teeth.
Concerned with its each and every line being perfectly pieced ..
.. I furnished its featureless plains,
Until my work was complete.
And for years I’d nurtured a deep yearn for release ..
.. Skirting the reams of this fervent retreat,
With an urge to be seen.
As these walls deserved to be teemed with a certain prestige ..
.. And I was determined to see, just how my work was perceived.
Now gone are the perfectly pieced, works that served as my dreams -
Lost in the rain that washed them away,
So the naked walls surface could gleam.

Peace.



"Elephants Never Forget: The Elephant Never Forgot


"What a splendid head, yet no brain."
Aesop

http://www.unexplained-mysteries.com...ephant_man.jpg

From the age of five,
My face comprised, of distinct growths that ranged in size ..
.. and plagued my mind,
When I’d hear the hateful jibes, my classmates devised.
The torrential torment was often initiated by,
Bullies that would take the time ..
.. To state unkind, spates and lies, until they had made me cry.
Empty tears cascade the sides, of my craniums strange design ..
.. And with grace they slide,
Over my shapeless guises grey confines.
The great despise I faced at times, would duly strip away my pride ..
.. But Mother often told me,
“Beauty’s nothing but a state of mind,”
And I held her sweet words with me, up until the day she died ..
.. As they were right,
And I was stronger than the pain I faced inside.
My father would later find,
A stately sprite, to make his wife ..
.. Who placed her spiteful talons, well in view of his grateful sights.
Her waves of white,
And ageing lines, had made her face refined ..
.. But she was as cold and calculated, as a sculpture made of ice.
Her severe disgust was noted,
Through each of her weighted sighs ..
.. And she’d leave the room at the faintest sight, of my heinous plight.
For months she gamely tried,
To exploit this great divide ..
.. Culminating in the deft ultimatum that came to light,
“It’s either I go, or he goes!” she’d proclaim with spite ..
.. And I raged inside,
When asked to leave our estate that night.
I found myself out in the cold world,
With no place to hide.
Followed by the japes and snipes, of children that raced me by.
My deformity meant,
Looking for work was a waste of time ..
.. As nowhere would accept such a disfigured face as mine.
Then to my ornate surprise,
A fly-poster graced my eyes ..
.. About a travelling freak show that sought my distasteful kind.
The pay was trite,
But so were most jobs in these days and times ..
.. And I felt somewhat insubordinate as they caged my hind.
The steel curtain was raised in time,
To meet the publics scathing pries ..
They never saw me, just the disfigured mask I’m portrayed behind.
When one day a saintly guide,
Would enter to change my life ..
.. “Dr. Treves” he stated quite, profoundly. I remained uptight.
His gaping eyes,
Fell on my hideous growths that had stabilized ..
.. And he informed me,
He could help to investigate their rise.
So I moved to Whitechapel Hospital, where I’d the greatest time ..
.. And Doctor Treves,
Removed pockets of flesh from my face and spine.
I yearned to be ‘normal’ again -
To sleep as I faced the sky ..
.. A comfort I hadn’t known in years, due to my heads weight and size.
It was during my attempt in the dawn of one fateful night,
That upon my own stupidity,
I would suffocate and die.
Empty tears cascade the sides, of my craniums strange design ..
.. And with grace they slide,
Over my shapeless guises’ grey confines.
The great despise I’d faced at times, had duly stripped away my pride ..
.. And Mother had told me,
Beauty was nothing but a state of mind.
I held those true words with me, up until the day I’d died ..
.. But these people never saw me,

Just the disfigured mask I was portrayed behind.

- Joseph Carey Merrick
5th August 1862 – 11th April, 1890

http://www.biologie.de/w/images/1/14/Merrick.jpg

TOPICS: "Human Freakshow"
"Art is the desire of a man to express himself, to record the reactions of his personality to the world he lives in."
Amy Lowell


TOPICS: It`s The Worst Day Of Your Life. Why?
Again?

"The Nightmare Before Christmas”

http://www.picturegrill.com/images/c...tachimney.jpeg


Don’t you just fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives?
That meticulous time,
When soft mittens comprise, snowmen of formidable size ..
.. From the thickets of white,
Sitting astride, the distant horizon.
The winds cold, briskly respite, navigates deciduous pines ..
.. Whistling by,
On its mission-less guide, where with pure intuition it finds ..
.. A lonesome snowman,
That glistens with pride, deep in the dark midst of the night.
Abandoned by his creator,
The young girl was forced to kiss him goodbye ..
.. Leaving him cruelly exposed,
To the adoration of which he despised.
His movements restricted,
By the barren branches that stick from his sides ..
.. And so he sits in the silence,
Bitterly frightened, with his pummelled face missing an eye.

I used to love it.
Christmas had always been a favoured fixture of mine ..
.. And often I reminisce on the times,
When anticipation meant the hairs on my neck would bristle and rise.
Mother was quick to surmise,
That I had to be asleep before Saint Nick would arrive ..
.. But I’d sit with my eyes,
Firmly affixed to the blinds, awaiting the glorious gifts he provided.
I awoke, both betwixt with surprise, and of startled relief ..
.. Heading downstairs,
Where my father would be, clutching the star for the tree.
With his assistance,
I’d place it on top as he marvelled at me ..
.. Then open up my presents as I sat perched on the arc of his knee.
I made a metropolis,
From our laminate flooring that was sparkling clean ..
.. My remote control car,
Traversing the length of our house and all parts in between.
Elated rapture exuded,
From my smile in the most ardent of beams ..
But one year in particular,
I could sense the pretence in her parlance of glee.
It was only when I witnessed,
My dear Mother starting to weep ..
.. That I realised,
She was harbouring me, from the darkest of secrets…

And I guess this is where my hate of Christmas derives,
I was six at the time,
When it broke my heart into pieces.
My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
She proved hard to crack,
And when she did - I still struggled hard to believe it.
All that me and Mommy could then do,
Was start from scratch,
The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
And this is why I fucking HATE it when Christmas arrives,
Cause now I’M the lonesome snowman,
Out in the dark midst of the night.
That puerile pile you’ll find out on the distant horizon,
Cold
Heartless
Unable to move on, and sitting in silence.
Abandoned by my creator,
But with his memory’s still rich in my mind,
I was six at the time,
And it broke my heart into pieces.
My dear Mother tried her best to guard the fact,
She proved hard to crack,
And when she did - I still struggled hard to believe it.
All that me and her could then do,
Was start from scratch,
The void left was filled with only stark incompleteness.
My father had died from a multiple heart attack,
And that’s why all I want for Christmas THIS year is my father back.

Peace.

http://www.picturegrill.com/images/c...christmas.jpeg
TOPICS: I Have Nothing Else
Find Your Happiest Memory
“You Cannot escape The Responsibility Of Tomorrow By Evading It Today”
Abraham Lincoln


Dancing In The Darkness

"We improve ourselves by victories over ourselves. There must be contests, and you must win."
Edward Gibbon


http://files.turbosquid.com/Preview/...82a2dLarge.jpg


The prestigious penis withdrew,
And we were the fruits, of the loin that he had produced ..
.. While keen to pursue,
His deepest intrusion, upon the reams of your womb!
Secreted in gloops of gleaming diffusion,
From the semen that oozed ..
.. We could merely peruse, our new surroundings...
...'til we were free from its juices!
The confines of this crowded, carnal, sphere were intrusive ..
.. But sensing the freedom that loomed,
My flailing flagellum flounced with the most sweeping of movements!
I seemed to accrue,
A greater strength, self-belief, and speed as I moved ..
.. strategically through,
The barrage of blood cells that tried to keep me from you.
Traversing each of the flumes,
Within your in-experienced tubes ..
.. Destined to be the one your fertile egg would greet with confusion!
It was here I witnessed,
Life’s true maternal seamstress in bloom ..
.. Piercing the egg’s epidermis until I’d been completely consumed.
It was also deep in the womb,
Steeped in seclusion, that as a fetus I grew ..
.. Forced to breathe through the tube, that would also feed me with food.
Thanks to those bites of sustenance,
That I’d been receiving from you ..
.. It would take me just three quarters of a year to leave this featureless room.
I left, feeling subdued,
To find mother with strange men standing beside her ..
.. As I’d been delivered from the greatest temptation of man:
The Vagina!

- 17 Years Later -

My prestigious penis withdraws,
From deep in the core, of a nubile virgin’s eager succour ..
.. Pleading for more,
Of that secretive lure, she’d keep in her drawers!
An angel with fallopian lips,
And a chaste sweetness so pure ..
.. I spared her innocence not even the most fleeting of thoughts,
As I eased in the taut, opening my penis would thrust -
See, all us men are delivered from temptation…

…Then we spend the rest of our lives trying to keep it in touch!

The Vagina!

Haha,
Peace!

"Most people would like to be delivered from temptation but would like it to keep in touch."
Robert Orben


"Deflowered Rose"

http://img1.imagetitan.com/img1/1/16/vandam.jpg


Under the guise of darkness, lies a heartless, guy who hides the carcass ..
.. of a seven-year-old school girl back in his high rised apartment.
She’d tried her hardest,
To escape the ropes he’d tied her arms with ..
.. before the tyrant started to divide her garments,
And molest the child regardless.
The violence started, once she’d rejected his evil suggestion ..
.. he beat her ‘til her cries for help, were little more than silent yelps.
The pungent stench of his stale breath, clung to her pale flesh ..
.. and she balled her fists at each sordid kiss,
Placed upon her by his morbid lips.
A single finger prised open the pink insides of this shrinking violet ..
.. and as his assertive hand plundered her cervic glands -
He barely blinked an eyelid.
Rose couldn’t bring herself to meet the glare of this demon,
So, tearfully, she stared at the ceiling - Feeling her innocence tearing and bleeding.
Her tormentor had climbed, the lengths of her thighs and ventured inside ..
.. Clenching the sides of her face -
To reveal the dark intent in his eyes.
Tensions were high, as the monster snarled through pristine dentures of white ..
.. And spat in the young girl’s face,
Where a mass of fear and resentment preside.
The animal lengthens his strides, as beads of sweat secrete from his pores ..
.. The heathen ignores her pleas for remorse -
His sickening lust still eager for more.
With arms that are strong and sculpted, and veins that feed him copious strength ..
.. he gropes for her neck, holds her over the bed, and chokes her to death.
Poor Rose had tried her hardest, to escape this violent hardship ..
.. Now her lifeless carcass, sits on a dirty mattress back in his high rised apartment.
And under the guise of darkness, lies a heartless guy who’s prides departed ..
.. His lone physique roams the streets,
While looking to find his targets…




"Washed Up!"

http://www.funerella.com/graphics/gr...r8st2qw1ro.jpg

.
.
.

Do you remember when you would call me yours?
When I was the savvy sailor navigating those stormy shores;
And you were the burlesque barmaid we all adored,
The first female that I’d fallen for...


“...All aboard!”


...I guess I’d always been too afraid of letting go;
‘Cos you never know what can happen when you’re caught in the ebb and flow.
But I was carried away by the current and swept to the side;
Where I found myself drowning in the deepest, dark, depths of your eyes.
As their replenishing grace lashed over me,
I embraced it strong,
And with a sharp intake of breath, I would gladly take the plunge.
You were the mermaid on the barnacled buttresses I braved collision,
As I courageously steered my stern vessel on its maiden mission.
But simultaneously I found myself in a strange position;
Because I’d always been careful not to go overboard with inane decisions.
Yet our relationship was as open and free as the oceans and seas;
From the moment you seized my heart,
Gone were my loneliest needs.
And I was thrown in the deep end where you left me amazed;
Where I leapt in elation while riding on the crest of that wave.
I was so desperate to make a splash, I kid you not, I did the lot...
...As you were the beacon up in the lighthouse,
That guided my ship to dock.
But I soon found it wasn’t all plain sailing attached to you;
Even though I’d gladly choose to do what you asked me too...
...And sometimes I’d call you a “Beach” behind your back, it’s true.
But much like the incoming tide,
I’d come crawling back to you.
Yet there was a lot more to me than the guy you’d always see;
Beneath the calm surface lay a cold, scathing, storm at sea...
...You’d drifted into the arms of another as I watched you float;
And up fecal firth with no paddle,
I decided to rock the boat.
But my emotions turned like the tides, and I fostered regrets...
...As you probed my turbulent mind, for what had got me upset.
And then I watched as you wept, on the docks with the jetty;
Before dragging your body down to those same rocks where you met me...
And waves of anger crashed over me alone where we stood;
As I thought to myself “If I couldn’t have you, then nobody would.”
But I was already in too deep,
And that much I’d admit.
I tried pushing her onto the rocks, but during the struggle – I slipped!
And I fell backwards, hearing her gasping screams suddenly stop,
As I hit the ground –The true meaning of Love On The Rocks.
Now I’m just deadwood,
Tossed and thrown around these stormy shores...
...And you’ll forever be the only female I’ve fallen for.
But you’ll never wash my blood from your hands,
No matter what you pass them through.
And much like the incoming tide,
I’ll come crawling back for you...


Beach.

Last edited by Baron Mynd; 10-11-2012 at 11:19 AM.
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  #2  
Unread 10-11-2012, 11:24 AM
Baron Mynd
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Default

"A Misguided Youth"

Born to a Jordanian town, that while quaintly profound and not greatly renowned ..
.. was rich in resolve,
Ahmed watched as his city evolved.
Often he'd cast a gaze over the vast array of placid grey ..
.. building's that masqueraded, as the al-Ma'ssoum slum he had fast became -
Accustomed to.
Before he'd thrust his new, books into, ..
.. his carry-bag, and began the mile long journey on foot to school.
Ahmed was an indifferent student,
Who often would sit alone ..
.. His playground; The municipal cemetery opposite his home.
When mother found him kicking stones- "There's nothing to do," he would report,
.. Before she smacked him for scuffing the only shoes we could afford.
Ahmed hankered purpose,
His rebellious streak began to surface ..
.. and he turned juvenile delinquent, with intentions to leave this languid circus.
His gambit earnest,
At least up til his arrest where it's proven -
An adult Ahmed was influenced by the Salafist-Jihadist Movement.
Captivated by the stories portrayed, in glorious ways ..
.. and local mosques, preaching radical Islam to all us who prayed.
Ahmed left for Kandahar, where he then made a pact ..
.. with bin Laden. The maniac, offering him a training camp.
It was here Ahmed changed his name, to one more common to you and me ..
Calling himself "Abu Musab al-Zarqawi".
A name that strikes fear in our hearts to the beat of a taut drum,
"Abu Musab" meaning "Father of Musab" - His fourth son ..
.. "al-Zarqawi" because Zarqa's the city he's spawned from,
And from his Training Camp in Herat, his leadership was forth run.
With the invasion of Iraq,
And allied tanks roaming forth, in droves and hordes ..
.. al-Zarqawi chose to pour, his gross support, into igniting "Holy War".
The primarial reason Zarqawi was known to state, over tapes ...
.. was that "The great lie known as democracy," diametrically opposed his faith.
When his ultimatums weren't met, he would stick to his word ..
.. which led most noteably to the cruel be-heading of Nicholas Berg.
The U.S stripped and searched the Middle East's continued plight ..
.. until finally,
they succeeded in killing him on June the ninth.

A tragic tale of misguided youth, yet those who do not know the past are doomed to repeat it.

Abu-Musab al-Zarqawi
October 22nd 1967 - June 9th 2006
Rest In Peace


---------- Post added at 10:24 AM ---------- Previous post was at 10:22 AM ----------



It would be easy to say this world, at its core, is rotten.
All too often countries brave their thick-skinned exteriors when short of options.
With their ethos built tall on softened beds of timely tradition,
The sizeable schisms you find that are missing,
Help create only divide and division.
So then why have we bitten off more than we can physically chew,
To then stare at the apple of our eye with such severely limited views?
We live to consume from the pith to the roots we duly source,
Which proves of course that through discourse this requires serious food for thought.
The hour will come when our devouring gums will bite down on our own misfortune,
If we fail to behold the warnings to the grown importance of Global Warming.
We'll see the icecaps slowly thawing as the temperature rises,
Then as it heightens each ocean will be swallowed up, leaving a desert behind it.
The apples resemblance is frightening, seeing how its former seas have emerged left...
...with dry, barren, troughs surrounding continents scorched a deep and burnt red.
And even worse yet, it's too late to peel back this globally grave intrusion.
But it's state has proven the apples gravitas hasn't been observed since the days of Newton.
The fruits of our labour sustained a bruising which blackened the world economy,
And cast an ominous shadow over the darkest fears of the concerned majority.
Politicians searched to assert authority with
downtrodden souls beneath their gleaming shoes.
As they were presented with this fruitful subject -
One they could all sink their teeth into.
But the medias view has grown tedious through the worlds economic state,
So this modest break wont be served to them on silver platters -
But on the worlds tectonic plates.
What a waste of the vast creative juices our rich planet has secreted in soil,
As Russian billionaires needlessly toil deeper for oil -
Just to keep on reaping the spoils.
Which keeps us embroiled in a fruitless farce to help ease our sudden thirst,
While the seeds of change become seeds of doubt in the ripened ovaries of Mother Earth.
To look at first it would be easy to say this world, at its core, is rotten
But all too often countries brave their thick-skinned exteriors when short of options.
We're always watching when the world's a stage where EVERYBODY has a part to produce,
And whoever said we have the whole world in our hands, wasn't far from the truth...
What once started with few whole-heartedly grew to billions in density,
And while an apple scoffed in a day keeps the doctor away -
An eco-friendly planet offers your grand-children prosperity.
With a little will and integrity we can help to restore the world we bestowed,
And see it flourish under our watchful gaze as we nurture it's growth.
If we worked as a whole purposefully though without neglect,
Then we could finally give new meaning to the term greenhouse effect...
Reply With Quote
Unread 10-11-2012, 11:24 AM   #2
 
Baron Mynd
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Join Date: May 2006
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Mentioned: 26 Post(s)
Tagged: 0 Thread(s)
Send a message via MSN to Baron Mynd
Default

"A Misguided Youth"

Born to a Jordanian town, that while quaintly profound and not greatly renowned ..
.. was rich in resolve,
Ahmed watched as his city evolved.
Often he'd cast a gaze over the vast array of placid grey ..
.. building's that masqueraded, as the al-Ma'ssoum slum he had fast became -
Accustomed to.
Before he'd thrust his new, books into, ..
.. his carry-bag, and began the mile long journey on foot to school.
Ahmed was an indifferent student,
Who often would sit alone ..
.. His playground; The municipal cemetery opposite his home.
When mother found him kicking stones- "There's nothing to do," he would report,
.. Before she smacked him for scuffing the only shoes we could afford.
Ahmed hankered purpose,
His rebellious streak began to surface ..
.. and he turned juvenile delinquent, with intentions to leave this languid circus.
His gambit earnest,
At least up til his arrest where it's proven -
An adult Ahmed was influenced by the Salafist-Jihadist Movement.
Captivated by the stories portrayed, in glorious ways ..
.. and local mosques, preaching radical Islam to all us who prayed.
Ahmed left for Kandahar, where he then made a pact ..
.. with bin Laden. The maniac, offering him a training camp.
It was here Ahmed changed his name, to one more common to you and me ..
Calling himself "Abu Musab al-Zarqawi".
A name that strikes fear in our hearts to the beat of a taut drum,
"Abu Musab" meaning "Father of Musab" - His fourth son ..
.. "al-Zarqawi" because Zarqa's the city he's spawned from,
And from his Training Camp in Herat, his leadership was forth run.
With the invasion of Iraq,
And allied tanks roaming forth, in droves and hordes ..
.. al-Zarqawi chose to pour, his gross support, into igniting "Holy War".
The primarial reason Zarqawi was known to state, over tapes ...
.. was that "The great lie known as democracy," diametrically opposed his faith.
When his ultimatums weren't met, he would stick to his word ..
.. which led most noteably to the cruel be-heading of Nicholas Berg.
The U.S stripped and searched the Middle East's continued plight ..
.. until finally,
they succeeded in killing him on June the ninth.

A tragic tale of misguided youth, yet those who do not know the past are doomed to repeat it.

Abu-Musab al-Zarqawi
October 22nd 1967 - June 9th 2006
Rest In Peace


---------- Post added at 10:24 AM ---------- Previous post was at 10:22 AM ----------



It would be easy to say this world, at its core, is rotten.
All too often countries brave their thick-skinned exteriors when short of options.
With their ethos built tall on softened beds of timely tradition,
The sizeable schisms you find that are missing,
Help create only divide and division.
So then why have we bitten off more than we can physically chew,
To then stare at the apple of our eye with such severely limited views?
We live to consume from the pith to the roots we duly source,
Which proves of course that through discourse this requires serious food for thought.
The hour will come when our devouring gums will bite down on our own misfortune,
If we fail to behold the warnings to the grown importance of Global Warming.
We'll see the icecaps slowly thawing as the temperature rises,
Then as it heightens each ocean will be swallowed up, leaving a desert behind it.
The apples resemblance is frightening, seeing how its former seas have emerged left...
...with dry, barren, troughs surrounding continents scorched a deep and burnt red.
And even worse yet, it's too late to peel back this globally grave intrusion.
But it's state has proven the apples gravitas hasn't been observed since the days of Newton.
The fruits of our labour sustained a bruising which blackened the world economy,
And cast an ominous shadow over the darkest fears of the concerned majority.
Politicians searched to assert authority with
downtrodden souls beneath their gleaming shoes.
As they were presented with this fruitful subject -
One they could all sink their teeth into.
But the medias view has grown tedious through the worlds economic state,
So this modest break wont be served to them on silver platters -
But on the worlds tectonic plates.
What a waste of the vast creative juices our rich planet has secreted in soil,
As Russian billionaires needlessly toil deeper for oil -
Just to keep on reaping the spoils.
Which keeps us embroiled in a fruitless farce to help ease our sudden thirst,
While the seeds of change become seeds of doubt in the ripened ovaries of Mother Earth.
To look at first it would be easy to say this world, at its core, is rotten
But all too often countries brave their thick-skinned exteriors when short of options.
We're always watching when the world's a stage where EVERYBODY has a part to produce,
And whoever said we have the whole world in our hands, wasn't far from the truth...
What once started with few whole-heartedly grew to billions in density,
And while an apple scoffed in a day keeps the doctor away -
An eco-friendly planet offers your grand-children prosperity.
With a little will and integrity we can help to restore the world we bestowed,
And see it flourish under our watchful gaze as we nurture it's growth.
If we worked as a whole purposefully though without neglect,
Then we could finally give new meaning to the term greenhouse effect...
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Unread 10-12-2012, 02:27 PM
Erupt da Monsta
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Yo, youre nice with the topicals, the diction and word placement are top notch. flow is dope. storylines are nice,
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Unread 10-12-2012, 02:27 PM   #3
 
Erupt da Monsta
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Ranked Audio Record
24 Won / 4 Lost
Estimated Skill in Text: 8.83/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.83/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.83/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.83/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.83/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.83/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.83/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.83/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.09/10 starsEstimated Skill in Text: 8.09/10 stars
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Yo, youre nice with the topicals, the diction and word placement are top notch. flow is dope. storylines are nice,
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Unread 10-15-2012, 04:17 AM
Baron Mynd
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Much respect!
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Unread 10-15-2012, 04:17 AM   #4
 
Baron Mynd
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Much respect!
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