Young Writers Society

The predator who preyed on thyself

Prey have evolved into predators

Yet are warped, completely docile

Time has developed apathy,

towards these shallow-minded antipathies.

***

Fools overlook the immoralities within them,

Yet do not fail to dictate these to the rest;

with endearments of contempt.

***

As though they are omnibenevolent,

Never having succumbed to malevolence.

**

Tainting the virtuous with poison,

Whilst rewarding the cruel with Poisson.

Feeding their selfish bosoms,

Allowing their forbidden fruits to blossom.

**

Until the line between hope and despair,

Distorts, beyond eternal repair...

***

Perspective from a monophobe

Scoffing and wondr'ng the difference,

whether any sense, does not lead to dissonance.

Or avid confliction,

What harmful diction

Is ignorantly tossed at,

Those who ne'er viewed the world as white or black.

***

Those with vaulting ambition, either

Succeed or are submitted to demolition.

Shamefully proud; the cranes are here 

To wreak havoc on thy constructed formulations.

***

And afterwards flock to the chapel of monophobes,

refusing to acknowledge the perpetual state of reality,

Simply creating buzz, like drones

For their biggest fear; to be alone.

***

Why conventionality hinders the mills

T'was if it were decided long ago,

Our fate, envisaged in lifeless stone.

That the search for moderation

Leads to nothing, save bitter isolation.

***

But even Tsarina I of Russia,

would not revel in such customs,

Of material prosperity, obtained

despite reluctancy to slave away, in arduous labour,

Just to provide nourishment, on the table.

***

Though clearly achieving nil;

For the tarnished, beaten mills still lull about

Aimlessly...

***

To sacrifice pain for eternal suffering

No more! We only crave more simplicity in our lives,

 not complexity

Yet would I resort to such methods of personal betrayal,

if all my efforts were concentrated on easing them?

***

Yet these cursed mannerisms and blatant subtleties'

Warps my already neurotic delusions

And every attempt to revert to ye olden days

Fills my souls with defects

***

And with thee, it has no effect on thine hapless mantra of apathy

Though who could have foreshown, such forlorn little faces?

***

The Idles

Why, if all the blame were on thy self, indeed

Then every single deed

May well be explained by the Apostles’ Creed

Let His name prevail, and precede

***

Though there would not be an incentive

To venture closer 

into the depths

Of Selflessness

For even if one followed the Messiah

Having banished all the liars

Merely to achieve a state of omnipretence

***

After reaching His Kingdom, there lies

a cloak knitted with the strands of fraying rope

***

The ends tainted with hypocrisy, and a bittersweet, crimson vial

Nothing remains of the Idles.

***

From those, who lost a hope,

which never was, and never will...

***

Nature's condolences to the Nobles

Is it true thou ist noble?

Trees are thine soul hope

All else leads to anarchy

***

With great anticipation

lies desolation

Thou hadst learnt to embrace light

***

Every volatile attempt

Nature takes and leaves

Crisp with bitter dew, blown where...

***

Sipping a flask of hatred

Melancholics' curse

Too late, the tree lied

***

To come of Age

Which age are we living in now?

Where the Parties have already decided long ago

That their fractured frames, already transferred unto

The most pristine Logo

Wearing it proudly, teeth bared, but still 

Cowardly.

***

This decadent lifestyle

Seemingly tames the lions

“Why then mama, are they so... bananas?”

My dear, haven’t you noticed

Dopamine and McDonald's are potently trendy

Forget farming for drops of crimson

Already they have abandoned it

If thou hast neither, thou shalt ne'er become Ozymandias

For it is of utmost importance; conquer this Matrix

of a World.

***

“But what if I don’t want to?”

Then be prepared to live a fool’s daydream, 

 Neither optimism, pessimism, absurdism, etcetera

Or that crackpot’s whitlings shall ever assist you

And your compulsory participation in useless activities

For thine future is thy goal; forget about foals

***

I shall strike thee with thistles

and banish you to Bateman’s lair

If thou darest speak of such time-consuming affairs

***

Avant Garde! and exeunt

Your darling cousin is so affluent

And what of this?

My little darling reduced to piss

***

Needs to run, but cannot

For the toilet of Wasted Youth is nowhere to be found

O, what a wretched age!

***

The Hamster

Once upon a time, a millionth time more

I met an alien hamster; his hair not quite a bore

How strange; his glasses and mind were rather lopsided

perhaps got knocked down by the agents of mediocrity

And uniformity, thou hadst a little black book

Filled to the brim with grandiose ideals, merely adopted

***

They found his existence a terrifying ordeal

but whether he was the real deal or not, one could never tell

It seemed he was not quite so apathetic; 

Unlike I, who intricately weaved it into a pretty set of gloves

Velvet, but not from the Underground, where that ridiculous hamster

Loved to reside, and succumb to his beloved philosophers

Schopenhauer would have been proud

Yet all he did was laze around in his self-made cage

I suppose he was well aware; to succumb is futile

***

But to try, however, was realisation

The world not even starring the role of Joker

Or the benefactress, benefactor

Neither an obsolete androgyny 

Nor even slightly willing to indulge itself, unto 

Our pathetic desires

***

You hapless fool, did you really believe?

Reliance on those far above mortal perception

***

Of course not. Thou hast chosen the righteous path

of subjecting oneself to farce

Which is how I found you, sitting with

Nobody, thine only companion

Foraging in the dark, just like I and me

***

The Fecundity of Reality

Submersing in this luscious fecundity of grass

Carefully trimmed, carefully mowed; who knew

That was even a thing anymore

Until one hears the cries of a soundless lark

Wailings, scritchings, though it flies

Sacre bleu! Transfixed unto a realess reality

Submersing in this luscious fecundity of grass

Carefully trimmed, carefully mowed; who knew

That even those sheltered trees could have been drilled into

Impetuous moralities; is it deceptless deception?

The lark sips hungrily at the fountain of misconceptions,

Submersing in this luscious fecundity of grass

Carefully trimmed, carefully mowed; who knew

Even the sky plummets, born anew

***

All for what?

Unfortunately, a pitiful plight dares to arrive

Dictated eternally for endless eons

Prescribed on the billboard in tacky neon

"We've got five years"

They say, followed by a mystical being

Quite beyond this world; He sneers

***

He hath witnessed with the curiosity of a cat

The predictable chiding of big people

Aimed to hack little people apart by the seams

Until the sheer tears and opalescence remains

Gushing streams of crimson

So flowing, becoming, graceful!

***

Futile attempts to comfort "the pretty little things,"

His omniscience and poetic flairs

Adequately reveal his popular affairs

How on Earth did they succeed?

Did not even originate from this planet, they decree.

Yet not even His transient grins

Can plaster their cracked conscience

***

All for one and one for none

That is the way, it is done.

***

Salvation for the Individual

In the name of Prophets, spread the word to thy Neighbour.

All concepts which were spewed out during the Voyeur,

though perhaps they were a nomad for my hangovers

Morality, ethics; meta physicality

Shalt pave the way, for technology,

Lethargy, hypocrisy, mediocrity

Salvation sought many times over.

Yet my only aspirations are to seek the cliffs

of Dover

And soar gracefully o'er the glittering ocean of shame

Is that all? My desires bedazzling in the cemetery of Fame

Nothing really matters, save the aftermath of Death

If that is so; what is left?...

***