Rabbit Talk by Robin B. Lipinski

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Lipinski
Master Critic
Posts: 3380
Joined: June 05, 2011, 02:05:03 AM

Re: Rabbit Talk by Robin B. Lipinski

Post by Lipinski »

Thank you for the kind compliment Eddie, and I found your poem nice and fitting for the moment while giving me inspiration.
***
Disneyland

ISIS theme park filled with lights and excitement to attract Americans.
"Now, this is the real Disneyland," spoken by a young man playing in the sandbox and who came from Minnesota.

All around the world killing is a main attraction.
"Bomb them back to the stone age," said by many an ambitious politician.

Hate...
Kill...
Hate...
Kill...
If Satan had nipples, those demon fingers would be twisting them for pleasure as the Beast watches and listens.

What does mankind truly own?
Not land or treasure, as those cannot be taken after the life passes away.
Not intellect or knowledge as those concepts are always changing.

"How about love!"
No, love is like other words -peace, tranquility, honesty...
words without any real meaning when mankind still clings to the tree like a monkey.

Mankind truly owns hate, from a child to an old being.
Each and every man, woman, and child - hates...

Look at me as proof as to what I'm saying.
I hate,
hate.
Lipinski
Master Critic
Posts: 3380
Joined: June 05, 2011, 02:05:03 AM

Re: Rabbit Talk by Robin B. Lipinski

Post by Lipinski »

Eddie, nice to read, i enjoyed the work you presented.
Wormtongue, i agree, the picture is horrid, you should see what the Beast can do with a string of pearls...
***
and so, ever the inspiration. combining the kindness of war and Satan, all into a vivid picture.

Framed in Blood
By: The Watcher

Corpusculated stream of yearning.
Ah yes, the youth yells the words of violence,
"Kill them, kill them harder..."
Finger pushing buttons, parents bored and hot under the collar, thinking of personal affairs.

Pull the stitches apart, those holding the moral fabric together.
Pull the remote from where the sebaceous fluid was wiped away, clean thoughts now as the prostrate was pleased.
Pull the zipper.
Pull the cord; noose of death so much closer and still the children played,
"Kill that mother(censored) Kill that whore! Look a cop, zap his ass too (bang, bang) Ha! Well played."

Life of the video game, front and center, once the screen showed static in black and white when
remember when?
The show of life was over for the day and the station played patriotic, jets flew overhead,
and then the message from the dead showed static, this the time demons played.

Gameboy, iPhone, Playstation, LED television, computer...everywhere the screen.
"Kill for points, more the better and better the kill! Look, I'm up to 8000 bodies. Feel the thrill!"

Upon the mantel, once where God, duty, and the musket hung,
now
a frame of blood; two-way view into death.
One side, the children strayed
The other, the Beast moaned in ecstasy as it pulled the unholy pearls from the pleasure of its black holy place...

"Look, I killed another and blew up a city. Mom, I'm hungry, bring me a sandwich, now!"

(she was busy moaning in another world, pulling pearls with her lover, a dark man of sorts, while her husband in his personal
hell, was doing the same.)
Lipinski
Master Critic
Posts: 3380
Joined: June 05, 2011, 02:05:03 AM

Re: Rabbit Talk by Robin B. Lipinski

Post by Lipinski »

Yes, that be me. Or, is it? I get so confused keeping my identity 'straight'. I now live in White Bird, Idaho and play with rattlesnakes, and it's true; tastes like chicken.
Now, to pay for the post and from your inspiration.
***

Woman

Fig leaf once green to taste the time of Fall.
Crumpled veins and stems cracking
this reveal.

Eve of destruction, shown full
Moon of menses to come.

Wrath as hell is scorned
running from the Garden
to trample serpent, parting fangs sink deep.

Love, full knowledge of, now seeping poison of temptation.
Slender legs, round smooth buttocks glisten as her tears fall
Pointed, full breasts pointing the direction, erection of mounting belly;
nine months is time.

Pain, oh the pain it comes, the babies, the sailors disease as port-to-port, they board.
Damned, this age of time, this knowledge; sweet sirens wearing the dress of vixen
vexed now this feeling.

Escape?
How, to leave ones shadow behind; impossible.
As with Adam so to am I,
I am man she is woman,
this is the curse of mine.
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