The Solid Steps

I'm not off,
But of normal sense.
Ready not to use it.
Poised to forestall
The solid steps.

I should shift
But I simply shan't.
Gavel of the lessons
Pounds to head down
The solid steps.

Scale, it tips to bother
As it thwarts a brother,
Keeps him from his druthers
And drags him to the cellar.

There, his seal is threatened.
Now he'll never punch it.
That which he would rather
Met the destined fetter.

Bred to thrive,
And/or get it right.
Armed to clock the progress.
Formed pedals for
The solid steps.

--Keddiz

revenge on sick

Singes upon you, useless, desperate adversity!
Singes to you until every beyond!
I am bogged, rootlessly down by simmering blubbery
Soon to be brought upon a platter for you with an if-and-when plaster,
A salve of counter-attacks upon unprotected wretchedness,
------------------------------------All while this leather strap of a mantra,
------------------------------------That I bite with silent grit,
------------------------------------Gives you hint to the revenge I take on the sick:
------------------------------------Singes upon you, sick.
------------------------------------I mean the primates and I mean fire and I mean
------------------------------------Those in the careless clear.
------------------------------------Lie, I do, under each bed to swipe in wellness.

--Keddiz

Sick

Offertory basket, you have been offered the usual. You will take these winnings into the sacresty. I, on the other hand, have no time for my tune about the barber college. If I withhold time for this tune, no one is moved. If the time is redistributed, no one is moved.

And when it's all a big bit of laughter, at a moment that I wish it not to be so, then I can't take it any more. You, in turn, will no longer be able to handle what might be dropped inside you, for it will all be over. Your ability to perceive the tragedy truly evaporates and justice becomes the disparate streams of the perpetually unreasonable.

The Draining Eyelids

Going to make myself stay the heck up tonight.
Tomorrow isn't planning to refresh.
I'm going to be involved in a knife fight.
The plan is to jab his skin and kick as well.
It will be darker than ever.

Who hasn't dipped their dark tabasco
In a danker hull of the Corrigan sea?
Looks like others other than me.
Horrible southerners! Sorrowful we.
We as the ripped of chest
Who wrangle the rest of us dippers,
Search out skippers.

Boat,
You are the boat that keeps my drums from angry voice,
Though, you're dependent on water.
But, awaiting the knife fight involvement.

Childlessness,
Body's playing recorded message.
Temple is sighing & pushing erase.
Son of the Socket, I say unto every last:
That one's for chase. This, for submission.
To give his life less trouble,
I could let him go definitely.
Force him out with anger
And/or save self from what's scary.
And here I go to try
Then wait.
...He won't leave.

Look, you will, when eyelids are draining:
More is remaining.

--Keddiz