Tag: Roger Daniels

Poet/lyricist from The Mountains, who is murdered by his good friend, Mahdakis.

Wishful – Sinful
The court jester dances for you alone.

Cracking smiles for the royal funny bone.

Paranoia picnicking on your brain,

For fear someone will do to you the same.

So I close my eyes and fantasize

Dirty peasants polishing your demise;

Brutus pouring wine for the dinner guests.

And this, at last, Laying your soul to rest.

Now the queen is forced to bare skin for me,

And her backside explored improperly.

And the princess, tied down, will soon follow

As soon as she capitulates to swallow

The distasteful plebeian atmosphere

Of mutiny and revolution cheers.

But, first we must elope in Atlantis

With the dead are new born, a lot like us.

HAIL! HAIL!

The queen is dead!

God let us, now be forever wed.

HAIL! HAIL!

Take what’s yours,

Leave your friends, open new doors.

Sitting on my newly acquired thrown,

I watch elders crippling from the bone.

Fecal matter floating down city streets

Where the protestants hold clandestine meets.

Guillotines are chopping off pagans’ heads,

Famined children still have yet, to be fed.

But, I cannot help them. I’m just a tool

For the Roman Catholics and their jewels.

Hey now, I like this role,

I do nothing and I’m in control.

Bow now and kiss my cheek,

Bathing in coin, I laugh at the meek.

© 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity (B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Poems)

Click here for further barbaric use of the English language.
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December 13, 2016
Roots
My tree stands alone

In the midst of a

Vast grassy field.

Allow me to introduce to you,

A place where time and reason

Both must yield.

I come here often

In my mind

When my heart is weak of feeling

Towards mankind.

It is my one and only

True salvation.

But, we are taught,

A shameful destination.

Vertigo!

Ecstasy at a stand still.

The stories this tree could tell.

The dream is the same

Time and time again…

I emerge on to the scene

Hypnotically focused upon my tree.

The tree………………

The root of all my evil.

It awaits me;

And as I draw near,

In my state of slumber

I can hear

My girls’ voice

Beckoning with fear.

“I won’t be coming home dear.”

I’d ask you to join me for a picnic ’neath my tree—

Cool in the shade.

But I know you are timid and frail

And one must not be afraid.

Color, creed and status

Lay defenseless

Here or anywhere

Around the aura

Of this wilderness cathedral.

For the tree is my stage

And each blade of grass, a spectator

Filled with curious envy

The sun is my spotlight

Beaming down hard

upon my every move.

My subconscious directs

And northeastern winds supply a subtle groove.

Ahh, placid animosity.

Peace and tranquility

Stem from this tree.

I must have some,

I must take a leave…

So I climb the tree

And give it my all.

And the rope around my neck

Breaks my fall.

And now I see

And now I crawl

Upon dirt floors

….in an ancient hall.

© 1991, 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity (B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Poems)

Click here for further barbaric use of the English language.
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November 10, 2016
The Silent Fright
Puppets dance uniformly

In boundaries of assigned squares

Starvation and gluttony

Rapidly grow into a common pair.

Portrait couples,

Afraid to catch an eye,

Stir in quiet shame

Of feeble attempts to rekindle

Sparks……of a Duraflame.

These are but a few dark truths,

Which add to the sum of Silent Fright,

And which swiftly fall from my heart

Now that I have seen the end’s light.

© 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Click here for further barbaric use of the English language.
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November 8, 2016
Yesterday = Today
Slow and languid, the train of thought

which still insists passion be bought

under hazel skies children are taught

to worship God………….so greedily sought.

© 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity (B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Poems)

Click here for further barbaric use of the English language.
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November 5, 2016
Ch-ch-ch-changes…..
To deny change is not to grow,

Or ever pass go,

And never to know

The answers to questions

You long for today.

Head of clay,

You can say that today

You don’t care to be aware

As long as you stay- – – –

– – -the same

remain- – – –

vegetablized, minimized,

– – -emotionally paralyzed.

Frozen memories of a yesterday

That you once knew

Never to digest or recess

Inside of you-

There is unrest.

You hate your life

But you love yourself so.

Soundly impossible,

They’re one in the same bro.

As the world changes,

So must our causes and views.

It is changing now—

Turn on the news.

I used to believe

In justified homicide;

A life for a life, an eye for an eye.

But,

Change soon found me

With it’s merit and zest……

….. And now, jaded heart of failed test’s,

I believe life eternal would be best.

© 1990, 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity (B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Poems)

Click here for further barbaric use of the English language.
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October 30, 2016
Go Fuck Yourself
“Go fuck yourself.”

It’s more than a request.

It’s a demand

And at best,

A command

That would suggest

Temporary discord

with one who stands

Before the matter at hand.

But, can this be done?

And why would someone

In the midst of a

Mad verbal spasm,

Wish upon you

A healthy orgasm?

If the answer’s gray

Then why bother to say

And or express

Such ignorance

Of grammar, body and flesh?

What about something different?

Why not something intelligent?

How about something like:

“May an aids-infected,

acne faced,

family-disgraced

basket case

of a foreign race,

penetrate you

in a tight place.”

Ha-ha. What? “No good” you say?

Go fuck yourself!

Painting: ‘The Great Masturbator’ by Salvador Dalí – 1929

© 1991, 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity
(B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Poems)

Click here for further barbaric use of the English language.
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October 19, 2016
Dying Daydream
© 1984, 2001, 2012, 2016 Mark Rogers

Placid Animosity
(B.U.R.N.O.U.T.S. Poems)

Click here for further barbaric use of the English language.
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December 7, 2014