I know no limit for fun 😃
because I own no limit in pain; 😞
no matter I’ve done 🤷♂️
because I’m always punished by my brain, 😞
but all that I’ve gone 🤯
would be as much hard to explain 😞
like the pun 😃
why I was knot there that day. 🤷♂️
It’s neither my pleasure, nor my style,
but I’ve been drinking for a while.
We already know it why:
some nights are just too heavy being dry.
I had been suffering and crying
even before alcoholic supplying,
but since I have it
I say: freck it.
I’m not looking for acceptance;
I hate myself even in this stance,
but surely I am passing time,
and I find words for my rhyme.
My dear Lord, Dionysus,
is tottaly not like Jesus;
he lets me do my own sacrifice,
and eases me directly by the price.
How should I thank him more
than just live and drink a bit more?
Life is hard even as a drunkard,
but it’s the life of a pocket bard.
Enjoy your Happy Meal –
and remember: it’s Happy;
it was cheap and near,
fitting the mouth and belly,
a toy for the family-feel;
why would it be crappy?
Some people borrow others’ sorrow
to change it for happiness:
buying beautitude on solitude;
I’m such a dude,
but it’s rather rude
that I’m a brute
when it comes to Finance.
Here’s the fellow who’s not mellow
I’m born rotten and forgotten
I had had poems, kind of solemn
But here I am with crying rhyming
I’m good in bad moods and vice versa
I tried to be a smartass, but proven the least smartest
I’m still unknowing, and not going
I’m a born clown, pulling down
I’m in a vortex, out of context
I can’t heal, I can’t feel
I’m surely nut and I am not
*the door creeks*
“Ah, I’ve been waiting it for weeks.”
“It’s surely the Reaper, my ordered undertaker.”
*waiting for nothing*
“Maybe, he has another job. The door creeked, but he sent one of his slow helldog to do the job.”
*the void avoids my thoughts*
“Hellhound or a fluffy bunny, stop me feeling so numbly dummy!”
“Somebody, take my thoughts and take my voice! Don’t let it to be my choice.”
Since my childhood, I tried to break the algorithm
with all of my power and knowledge;
observing and overcoming – analysing and forthcoming,
but all the science was proven woven to a fate…
The algorithm just kept me running, ruining my own keepsake
full of moments that would have been better
if just the circumstances had been just less bitter:
“Closely had it.” “Closely worth it.” “Almost had her.”
I tried to avoid blaming, judging
as on myself as on the funny mishaps coming,
but with the views and experience enlarging
even to ignore became vain.
For now, it’s academically proven – no illusion
that there’s an algorith running, ruining –
5 centimeters per seconds like tree leaves falling,
bringing me back to a Murphian rockbottom.
I tried to avoid, tried to evolve, tried to just pass,
but the cat was always dead in the box;
knowing or purposefully unkowing the fact,
there’s an absurd algorithm looking for my head.
How annoying, how disturbing
living in this urban turning
day to day – and today!
How pressing, depressing
is it to live – captive
How soothing is the thought
ceasing to exist – I sought
the exit of 6 times foot.
The first left.
The second and third.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
Going becomes a hype.
I feel it salty to leave.
I feel fever to go.
Pop. Pop. Pop.
They go with pleasure.
What’s going on?
Popop. Pop. Popop.
Is it a must to go?
My ears are buzzing.
The world’s reeling.
Maybe, it’s the last.
Maybe, it’s over.
We are in safe.
Stayed many of us.
Out of the yellow mass.
I told you.
Don’t mess with me.
Today’s been a slaughter ordered;
Abrahamic hocus-pocus, fairy-tale,
Like Artemis replaced his daughter with a sheep,
We are doing the same;
Following a social construct,
Taking away thousands of life;
Sheep are crawling in mere bloodbath:
“Look! It’s running towards paradise!”
Not even a minute has passed
that the last breath left the still warm body,
but the people eviscerate,
and ate the inside organs already.
What holiness, what a story behind!
A mad man losing his mind
to imagine a sky-sent message:
Yo, murder your son or just do me sacrifice!
Those of nature – lions, wolves and leopards,
are killing for the sake of killing
or either for surviving the circle they’re aligned,
but we paint children stories with bloody body parts.
*E’ib Mubarak : It is related to Aid El Adha the celebration of Abrahamic story for what all Muslims around the world slaughter sheep as a symbolic sacrifice. The original wish is A’id Mubarak that means Happy Celebration. The title of the poem as E’ib Mubarak means “Disdained Celebration”.