mrrenegade

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I am just a struggler who often gets lost in the echoes of his own failures...

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  • mrrenegade 16h

    Poetry of departing...

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    Poetry of departing..

    I should lie under this sacrificial firmament which often bleeds regret at the departing astringency....
    The true deliberation in ushering malformation within every unostentious punery.......... within every apt prolixity.....
    I should lie in welcoming a pulmonary repose draining the elusive vivacity out of my supple
    forebearance.....out of my mean mettle....
    Not a single creature will notice the trivial apostrophe in a seamless observance...
    Nor it ever compels to regress an aeonic contengency evading the ambiguous facile attenuation...
    I should lie witnessing bewildered immolation trifling with the humane continuation ultimately leading to the
    amarathine evanescence....
    The last breath of mine seems to repreive a heartfelt enkindling while I seek refuge beyond the carnal disorders....... beyond every solitary inquisition circling around a mercurial inaptitude:

    The eventual human distinction.....
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 1d

    Death and its other tributaries....

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    Doctrine of departing...

    Have you ever noticed the dust laden tombstones dismantling the prehensile harmonization of your ductile substantiveness??!!!

    Those erected stone pieces borne an unremembered legacy of umbrage posing like the monoliths of unpredictability,agony and impersonality.....

    They still seek sublimation in human plaint...
    They still want at least an absorbed soul to read the hymnal derivatives imprinted unto them...
    They still crave the warmth of toil,montage of disparage, warmth of perishable vagrancy amongst them...

    A deep rooted funerary vigilance embellishing them with a malignant torpidity avenging the ghost of the past...
    Their black molecules hurl a languid reflection of the grim reaper's scythe as each of those tombstones happen to represent a doctrine of departing....

    Have you ever wondered how would your gravestone dispersing the same elemental dismay, someday????!!!

    Have you???
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 2d

    Neoproclamation...

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    Parallel World Engines

    Two distant worlds warping a dimensional clasp,
    one happens to be sedated in an abrasive noctambulance and another prostrating unto illative cogency,
    one celebrating a nuanced prologue and another salivating the perpetuity of conclusion,
    one forbears the impudence of profligacy and another bornes the scorns of altruism,
    one promulgating the illumination of initiation and another witnesses the skirl of finality...

    two distant worlds indeed but both are getting ensnared by an operable indifference,
    a precocious susperia lunges from the bosom of abyssic inebriation belonging to the neocosmic vitrum cascading the seminal interdimensional virtues unto a poignant proclamation: a prominent congruity necessitates the causation of the parallel world engines....
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 4d

    As soon as you get to know the answer,you will become godless...

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    Common answer..

    Omnipotence is not a reliable aptitude,
    Nor does it ever sort out your mangy trivialities or your semi reluctant cruxes or your enamoring quay....

    Omnipresence is not a viable synchronicity,
    Nor do you ever emancipate it's true dignity or tribunal preponderance outside of your make- believe dimensional dilapidation...

    Omniscience is not a transitive conviction,
    Nor will it ever quantify the necessary information that your dogma- stained mind seeks or tries to acquire for rehabilitating your preconceived prosperity.....

    Accumulation of these amorphous qualities morphing a creature beyond the rigidity of the human cognition...
    It provokes a surreal sui generis..... an all knowing-all seeing apostle of ruth....a superhero of the denomination of Captain Manhattan who was too supine to perfect the imperfections and often lacked the human
    discontentment to vivify the susceptibility of the civilization....

    So as a being of that stature would he ever fall for sympathetic mendicancy???

    Would he ever give jackshit about praying to him for some bucolic insignificance???

    Would he ever think about dissipating benevolence amidst two warmongers???

    Would he ever intervene into plague, famine or oppression????

    I know the common answer of all these hypothetical questions and I hope your god- believing naivety could be able to grasp it soon....
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 1w

    What I am not...

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    Not your poet next door...

    I don't write poetries that convey falsehoods and systematic light- heartedness...
    I can't summon the zephyr of aspiration emanating the assiduity of an upstanding promulgation while a perpetual desirous impeachment eats through a sense of solicited complacence leaving behind some animated corpses drifting in the web of trivialities...

    I can't paint a sanguine insignificance on the easel of gleeful contemplation because that would veil the purpose of that descending art...
    In the crimson splurge the weaving of tears would simply be sacrelegious to the aforementioning shattered tenor...

    I don't speak about benevolence, godliness and beguiling hopeful warmth where in temporal obsolescence disdain gets bought and sold with ambrosial antipathy..........where in the name of omnipotence, the mystic providence gets branded- charred human flesh as the product of obsolete offerings.......where children get molested and sometimes exhumed by the mongrels of the gods.......where guns keep the peace in order to insinuate this very provocative shanty- allegiance between dreadful wrought and human scums...... where blood remains on the street and thousands of bipedal scoundrels spawning wealth by advertising a degeneration of phony conformity......

    Therefore, I am certainly not your typical poet next door....
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 1w

    To ooze a sense of pain....

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    Tombstones...

    The moss gathers around those semi vanquished tombstones where the description of the departed proclaiming the sigh of despair....

    Some mere onlookers used to offer a surreal sympathy,some did not but there was a witchery of convulsion in the air...

    The black bird's wail reminded the boisterousness of subsistence that there was nothing to rejoice...

    The gust of the cold reluctant wind seemed to spew that there's a shrieking silence in abortive noise...

    Each of our ambition,our post natal aspiration is prone to be vanquished within a blink of an eye...

    There will only be graves to count and tombs to encounter for the stoical passersby....

    The profoundness of beings,the revolutionary artistic antecedents,the ornamented oration lying in deep absentia...

    Only the moss laden altar of conspicuous departing draped in millennial dementia...
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 1w

    I belong to them...

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    One of those...

    The long winding road between a synapse and a transient repose before attaining cognizance....
    It is a strait of being responsive towards the morbidity that this discernable universe concocted and therefore,morphed into an indisposed perception....
    But, not every one is able to gather tears of melancholia in their transitory chalice of connexion...........not everyone is able to see beyond their own essentiality.....
    So,they can't grasp the interpretation of funereal austerity...

    There are also souls persecuted, tormented, devastated by the perpetual impenitence of the society,
    There are so many lost travellers who journeyed through the impending imminence just never ever reach to their valued destination,
    There are individuals who acted when they needed the most before the mist of ingratitude muffled their improbable gasp into sombre obliviousness,
    and then there are some who gathered the shards of contemplation around a consecrated void rendered by the commandments of naught seeming to avouch on behalf of the perennial null....

    My poetries are for those...
    My restless apathy are for those...
    My repose- bequeathed cognizance laments for those...
    My every bit of inaptitude makes me one of those...
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 1w

    Don't be a fool...

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    Senile fools..

    Witnessing the collapse of civilization at the feet of unpredictability...
    Every indomitable renunciation gets wasted through the relapse of eons...
    Every inconspicuous brevity embraces an allaying sentimentality...

    The bygone generation's worth succumbs into the temporal dissoluteness...
    The vacant ruins of archaic malady is worthforgetting...
    The aforedwelling reprimand still chooses to gasp within the concrete innuendos...
    In the tale of kings and queens, the anointed revolutionaries are demeaned by a sardonic oscitancy...

    A precipice of inadvertence has been running wild in the course of our history and it only shadows the retribution in the hands of some monumental battlers who had the mettle to go against the preponderant tyrants...
    But their words are lost in the defaulted duplicity just as their exalted deeds gruelling in the docile worthlessness...

    The collapse of civilization renders through a mammonish avidity abstaining the gallantry from revealing its serendipity...

    As a result, tyrants are being worshipped by some senile fools...
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 1w

    The thin line between friends and foes...

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    Friends or foes!!!

    Swapping visages contorting the fundamentals of reliability...
    It is nonetheless, an assuaging observance of human catastrophe...an unremitting reproach towards companionship.

    The fall of ideologies have rebutted the unambiguity within mortal affairs...
    The ethereal love gets trampled under the feet of concubines....

    From a nameless- worthless artist's defeated corpse,there comes a brooding indignation unto the pliable promiscuity
    plunging a dagger of solitary indifference in the back of benevolence....
    Any good deed yields a diabolic outcome...
    Any prosperous soul deserves a laceration of betrayal....

    The faces that contemplated affection is no longer viable as an infection peeking through its ravaged surface...

    The mask of conformity is a necessary object to induce a smog of volatile hypnosis where abusers get to be saviours and foes get to be the friends
    as swapping countenances tend to contort the fundamentals of authenticity.......

    Can you ever be sure who are exactly your confederates???
    ©mrrenegade

  • mrrenegade 1w

    Where time fails...

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    Life

    The denomination of life is insubstantial as
    everything that it ever edifies can soon be inverted...
    From the very beginning of its incitement,a corroborated corrosion fickling in a sinuous glade through the jejune forest of ambivalence
    and it corrodes through the dilatory fringes of attainment leaving behind a pauperized self- gumption...

    An ostentatious elaboration gets concised at the ambit of irresponsive remonstrance in the lyceum of penurity that often procreates a yawnful lacuna amidst the enliven arbiters

    which the eater of eternity even fails to saturate....
    ©mrrenegade