Revenge Of The Manifesto

Revenge Of The Manifesto elegy

Photo by Jamiecat *

Overturned, years of stasis
Paralysis by mental blockade
A political metamorphosis.
Afoot at the general election;
Vengeance of the Manifesto.
The interregnum, the entrenched vote
Tranches appear, on Revised Register
Deceased coded, in numbers resurrect.
Beyond the grave, claim their names
Into a coffin, convert the ballot box.
From the back of the woods,
With a scythe over the hood,
Leads a procession of wolfs, out of
Grottos, hovels and roadside tunnels.
Some emerge from banks of runnels
A sexual revolution, pervert statutes,
Capitol Hill marches on Parliament,
Enshrines revulsion, Hijo De Puta Rights.
Santa Muerta, petals of blood, cowled in
Mourning black, death and widowhood
Her breast embittered in crusade morbid
Corrupts sacred ambrosia and absinthe.
Woe and bliss, in equal vials, dispenses
Titles, medals, benefits, hero privileges.
In tax credits, annual leave and bonus.
Gratis property, honorarium post and travel.
Met them once, chaperoned and chauffeured
The Deed of Death, a warrant for opulence.

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Revenge prose poem

Hatred, let it flow, let those memories that shackled me fade, let that dagger, which gives me pain mystify, let those eyes that see through darkness appear, let that beast go berserk, As I smile at the damnation I caused,

Serene Revenge

Serene Revenge short poem

Unmoored in twilight, my most visible hands were ready to slam on the moon of stains to bring out the water of life. A secondhand night was waiting for an explosion, which never came. How long will we go to

The Revenge

The Revenge short poem

A mob rapes a moon under the blue sky. Then parades her half-naked body on the streets of clouds. Arousal of anger devours the mate in a nocturnal rendezvous with a sea horse; cuts off the head to shake out

Sweet Revenge

Sweet Revenge short poem

It is, what do you not say I read the dusk on your eyes. Unspoken words hammering! A timer, quartz clock, ball bearings, pellets croissant of terror. Suspicious of the lady riding on crest responsible, for the happenings. Fear, hair

The Manifesto

The Manifesto prose poem

The discomfort of self, the sheath of truth crumbled by the church preaching ignorance and bitterness God does not look upon you with grace and love, this is what they tell you You are poisoned, grotesque, morbid, monstrous, and vile