monster Monsters . . .

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    monster Monsters . . .

    Ancient wisdom

    lies in bones

     

    The StoneAge

     

                didn't end

    for lack of stones

     

                                        monster . .

                                   monsters . . .

     

                                         e v e r y w h e r e

     

                                                  whispering

                                               in many ears

     

                                         loud enough

                                         to stoke our fears

                                                   soft enough

                                          that we may hear

     

                                          playing games

                                          of truth or dare

     

                                                                                            monsters

                                                                        and their concubines

     

                                                                         corrupt

                                                                         before we realize

     

                                           monster . .

                                     monsters . . .

     

                                                       telling truth

                                           the many branches

                                           are the root

     

    the leaves that fall

    aren’t leaves at all

     

                              but

     

            the devil’s call

            to sacred fruit

     

                                           monster . .

                                     monsters . . .

     

                                           play and hide

     

                                           at . . .

     

                                                        sleight

     

                                                                    and

     

                                            hopscotched truth

                                            in dead of night

     

     

                                          monster . .

                                    monsters . . . 

     

                                                                        held my breath

                                                                        so I can't breathe

     

                                                                                                and

     

                                                                               blind my eyes

                                                                            that I don't see

     

                                           t h e y   c o m e   f o r   m e

     

                                                                I'm alone

                                           and all the monsters

                                           are at home

     

    when

    every blessing

             is a curse

     

    every word

    becomes a verse

     

                                            souls have fallen

                                            where they stand

     

                                            in . .       

     

                                            ashened grey


                                                                        of

                                                            no man's

                                                             land

     

                                                                          all my colours . .

     

                                                                                   deeper shades

                                                                          of sombre thought

                                                                          and darkened days

     

                                            intent

                                            designed to survive

     

                                                      lies contrived

                                                         to multiply

     

    atomised:

    in air as dust

     

                    oxidised:

    in minds like rust

     

                                            monster . .

                                      monsters . . .

     

                                                                           p r o m i s e s

     

                                                                           camouflaged truths

                                                                                       that’s all it is

     

                                          The American Dream

     

                                           ain’t what it seems

     

                                              it's just another

                                                    fucked up

     

                                   M o n s t e r   S c h e m e  . .

     

     

    © mingoáo - 明 - The Writings of Mingoáo Inc. is the exclusive agent, publisher-distributor of the Writings, Designs and Ideas of Mingoáo. No part nor whole of the Work exhibited herein may be copied, transcribed, reproduced, performed, nor, transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, not by carrier pigeon, pony express, smoke signal, slingshot, sled dog, not even by alien spacecraft, nor stored by any information storage and/or retrieval system, past, present or future, nor translated, without the expressed written consent of the Owner. ~ By displaying, exhibiting, publishing or presenting this work Privately or Publicly, the Owner in no way perceived or believed , relinquishes his rights to the work partially or entirely -  Not to be Copied, Altered, Forwarded, Distributed, Shared, Nor Transferred. There’s no warranty; not even for Merchantability or Fitness For a,  and, or any Particular Purpose.

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    To have great poets there must be great audiences too.

    Walt Whitman, American Poet (1819-1892)

    Ming’s Poems (22)

    Title Comments
    Title Comments
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    PanYard 0
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    If You Rest You Starve 0
    Once Upon a Boatride 0
    Today I Woke up Dead 0
    monster Monsters . . . 0
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    I Just Wanna 0
    The Wanting 0
    I am 0
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    Like Cocaína in Medellín 0
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    Get a Helmet 0