I don’t know you!

I don’t want to know you!

But I have to if I need to know why you loathe strangers like no tomorrow.

I’m a curious boy so I can’t stop poking my nose into the mess you made.

There’s a girl who lives in the British Isles.

She doesn’t know you!

You don’t want to know her!

Yet, you cut her open and call the cops on her so they can cure her wounds.

That is no accident. You fractured her soul on purpose and pretend it’s her fault.

Where is your humanity? Are you even human at all?

Who are you to call yourself an advocate for world peace?

So I say fuck your agenda. Your stupidity can't trick me into turning against the girl.

Just because the fire you started ain’t my business doesn’t mean I can’t chime in.

When a maiden as kind and sweet as she is in danger, it is everyone’s business.

Why do you claim to be in favor of equal rights when you have blood on your hands?

A good activist must always be a good pacifist. Never are their words used to perpetrate murder.

Who’s going to stand by you when the gravity of your actions come crashing down on you?

Who’s going to shelter you when the people you speak up for want nothing to do with you?

Who’s going to survive when your puppet shows concludes?

When you drop the mic that’s rigged with a bomb that blew up the city?

Look what you’ve done!! Look what you’ve done!! Look what you’ve done!!

You didn’t wake up to smell the roses that were painted by the blood spilt from your casualties.

The lone survivor is the girl who came close to death and there you are, continuing to break her.

You’d rather be comforted by your ego than brace yourself for the consequences of your miscalculation.

You don’t know the people you’re hurting as well as you think you do.

I pray now that the girl who survived the bombing buys an enchanted shield to keep you away from her.

My hypothesis is that nobody important in your life taught you that karma is a vindictive boomerang.

I’m not known for being a social butterfly, but I know an incredibly deadly viper when I see one.

May Katipan Na Si Kuya (In Tagalog With A Possible Hindi/Bengali Influence)

May syota pero

Nambabae pa rin siya

Kinarma tuloy—

Your deceit has polluted the rivers near your villages.

The very rivers that its people rely on for drinking water.

A sip of that poison ignites a plague that turns friends into foes and kin into fugitives.

But where is the antidote? Why do your people continue to fall ill?

It is locked away along with the fortune you made from the production of your deceit.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

I’ve been away for a long time to know why I’ve been wrong before.

I had beat a dead horse and gave CPR to two that had cancer.

I should have known that it was not worth it if the doctors were not going to help treat it.

I was an ignoramus. They have all the knowledge that the world had to offer.

So why not share it with the ambitious and give new life to these once noble steeds?

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

I long reminisced about a time when the doors were open to tons of villagers with potential.

It was a world that I wanted to be a part of since I was a guppy not yet exposed to mathematics.

A potato infected by a blight and stabbed me warned me that the chief doctors were monsters.

A poor surgeon who tried repeatedly to receive a raise vanished, was slandered, and never seen again.

A coordinator found a shady message in her contract that forbade arbitration and fled to another kingdom.

And I recently heard that the one coquettish nurse was expelled over scrutiny from her personal life.

Why, Dr. Kim? Why do you egg your personnel to choose sides when there are lives that need rescuing?

Can’t we all get along and lay down our weapons? It’s easier to negotiate than to wage war, but no.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

People lose their minds when they fall in love. It’s not just me. It’s a fact of life.

I lost mine to a mongrel who shut me out after a few months and lied directly to my face.

A good friend that I had regretfully wronged had given the doctors the deceit that tainted the rivers.

A clever herbalist that craves drama knows how to brew tainted water to make it appear crystal clear.

Not everyone knows that making up stories to sweep malpractice under the rug is a gold mine.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

The coachman that brought me to this place can call me a whiny little boy if his mood fits.

Just like the kid who offered sage advice to the chief doctors on how to break down barriers.

But that judges the coachman's character more than mine.

It’s an fyi that looks terrible just because he’s wearing it.

But hey, why bother listening to advice that’s more expensive than one’s pride?

The doctors’ salaries are too low for them to spare a dime to make that change.

That’s why there’s never room for improvement nor for sharing in their greedy hearts.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

I am terribly sorry that your folks never taught you that what goes around comes around.

That your hidden crimes will come back to bite you when you too become penniless.

When you one day get a taste of your own poison when you drink the river you tainted.

What does your life have in store for you afterwards? Can you sleep at night again?

Will people still care when the doctors go their separate ways? What about the pollution in the river?

I will not return to the filth you created to clean it because in the end, the deceit would be even worse.

To change your practice for the better was my greatest wish until I found out how unethical you are.

Now it is to build a fortune of my own so the artist that my heart beats for can have a bite to eat.

That is the change that you will never see because you are too comfortable smoking the dough you baked.

Money is one heck of a stimulant.

I use to laugh at ironic things
No punishment for the bad deeds
The Bible says that good 10 fold 
The universe returns to us in gold 
That fairytales and nursery rhymes 
Exist to scare and keep us in line
But on this day fate stepped in 
And karma it seems is a comedian 
A lesson weaved throughout every line
Carefully crafted as a warning sign
It was a day like any other 
As usual jumped in the shower 
Quickly washed and rinsed my hair
Noticed too late that it was NAIR!
Every luscious lock and strand
Fell out completely in my hand
What seems like a sick joke being played
Or demented parts a malicious prank
A plot unfolded my part the lead
The lines straight from a horror scene 
Like laws of nature or earths gravity 
The rules we bend to suit our need
Like a boomerang’s invisible path 
It seems to follow when it comes back 
Even the ocean and it’s changing tides
Needs the moon’s persuasive side
We are the keepers of what we seek
And what we sow we indeed will reap
The nightmare that we fear the most
Comes back to haunt us like a ghost
Like Peter Pan and Captain Hook
Just a good story in a children’s book
what if the earth gets bored of us
And decides that we are entertainment 
those characters we read as kids
Like Pinocchio or the 3 little pigs 
Sleeping beauty or the ogre Shrek 
You thought was funny as a sketch 
Brought to life would pose a threat 
Although to you this seems far fetched
The truth Ive written has not been stretched 
I hope you read this and know as fact
What you put out there will soon come back

Forgotten Son

   By jfarrell

(inspired by a Marillion classic)

I got taken into Care when I was 11;

Mum and dad visited once,

Then couldn’t be bothered to visit again;

At 14, I stopped visiting them.

At 19 I visited, what a mistake that was;

24 was the last time I went back;

And, at 49, I will never see my mum again;

I won’t put myself through that rejection, that hurt.

I am the Forgotten Son;

Not prodigal; not lost, mislaid;

A dozen times a day I must think of my mum;

I doubt she’s thought of me once in the last 25 years.

I should be more forgiving;

I should be the better person;

But I prefer to remain the Forgotten Son;

Invisible; never born; nothing but a bad dream.

They say what goes around comes around

And that karma's a bitch

And you'll get back tenfold

Whatever you dish.

When you mess with a snake

You are bound to get bit.

You were merely a snake in disguise,

Using the grass to befit.

For every action, you take

There is an equal but opposite

Reaction you make.

So, with a little distraction

And a bit of retraction

In due time, I'll seek my revenge

To gain sweet satisfaction.

You think I forgot and forgave

And over time tensions eased,

I'm not as passive as I once was,

You won't get off scot-free.

You love to play games

And break all the rules,

Never concerned about repercussions

Which makes you a fool.

You show no remorse,

Not ashamed in the least,

Nor bother with repentance,

In fact, you seem pleased.

I'm reasonable by far,

I see both sides to a story,

But if I stood where you're standing

Then yeah, I'd be worried!

~Deziraye Wald~

Karma will stop there flow 2015

some people are nice just like they aught to be

then there are others who will drop you to your knee

and the ones that are mean make your life feel like a show

but they better watch out or Karma will stop there flow

you see no one really gets away with anything now an days

because in the end they will have bad luck in everyway

its bad people who ruin it and stoop so very low

but soon they will see that Karma will stop there flow

like that old coyote who always tries to catch road runner

cuz in the end its the road runner who will always be the winner

when one is always mean and has a forked toungue

its they who will eat there words and be left to get hung

so if you dont stop your evil ways you will never really know

the joy of true friendship cuz Karma will stop your flow.

                               zoeycup16

Steve Irwin, Crocodile Hunter 

Sometimes karma returns

to us on exactly the same

path we sent it out.

 

Steve Irwin was a crocodile

hunter who darted countless

marine animals.  Statistics

are that half of darted animals

die from the anesthetic or

the painful blow.

 

Steve, beloved by millions,

died after being pierced

by a massive sting ray.

-s shriver-

 

http://i.imgur.com/Y1a1qZP.png%3C/p%3E

 

undercover special mission

he brought the baggie

with permission

and meeting under

the hazy street light

things went wildly awry that night

others came with guns in hand

he couldn't compromise his commander

gun shots flew and then he fled

leaving a bullet in another's head

that's what happens when cops get hooked

on the girl called cocaine

but they never get booked

8:15 AM 7/6/2013 ©

..........