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Ishita Mar 2015
How beautiful is the life
With all its vibrant colours
The colours which define its creativity
Life is colour,colour is life
Shades of translucent rainbow
Casting his grace on embellished life
The allured tints of the moring sun
Captivating the vivacity in people's life
How abhorent the nature be
Enchained,restricted without the colours
Blemishing the ornamentation garnished from heaven
But suddenly the grandness breathed for its life
As colours started to play an illusive vibe
Awakening the sluggishness in one's life
Unfolding the colours honesty with ecstasy.
My 2nd poem which was published in a magazine.
brandon nagley May 2015
Abominable thou has  become oh beau,
What's wrong with thine view?
Cans't espy the queen right next to thou?
***** scoundrel,
Seeking a chatelaine and not thine countess?

Thou misfit!!!//
David Watt Jan 2011
This morning i watched Jeremy kyle!
Another father in a useless denile!
Another ***** with the width of a bar stool,
Chucks another father in with the disgusting gene pool.

Miserable forlorn Cattle going to slaughter,
Have more class than your abhorent daughter!
The pity i feel for that wretched child,
Thats bought up in a system that's been defiled.

The onlookers cheer as another ****** makes a jest.
About the poor man shes been using is clothed in some ill fitting vest.
Well done contestant three,
You have proved to us the ***** you can be!

Now please take your rapid leave,
Before we call your **** or boyfriend Steve.
That you've been sleeping with your cousin,
And no doubt have his bun in your oven!
Breeze-Mist Feb 2017
We tend to separate monsters and men
Simplifying and beliving that such things can't happen again
But if we could only resurrect the dead
The sole answer would be "that's what we said"

We call abhorent acts of criminals "inhuman"
Thinking cruelty only comes from ******* men
But animals never threaten holocaust or world war
And even big brother was a child before
Steven Boston Sep 2021
Beyond the drone of pitiful noise
lays his nightmare silent voice
dark treacle running through
his vindictive veins
shouting for spilled scarlet floods
in the arena of his rebellious reality

We ask
Where
Why
How
is the psyche awakened
of a heinous human

As he premeditates malicious ******
in his razor wire embroiled shell
venting vicious violent thoughts
from his cauldron
overspilling with the essence
of things past

Into abhorent action
it bounces and bounds
'Heres Johnny'
the sun rising for him
as it sets for another
he's lifted from his numbness

adrenaline gushing
through his warped floodgates
saturating the twisted air he breathes
without it he is but a nobody
drowning in the normality
of real reality
Wrote this about what makes a serial killer tick, was for a prompt.
Upon (die) re rhea ding previous poem
     All In The Name Of "Progress" zen
a glaring, leering,
     and twittering left par wren
     dared to a right (i.e. bribe)
     corrective punctuation measure
     slyly slipping Special Ops symbol ")"
     for so many yen,

thus see slipped thru my excellent
     proof reading, when
lo and behold consternation,
     inconsideration, and perturbation
I thought to take a page
     from playbook of Sylvia Plath,
     and stick my head in the oven
but lo, a sardine recipe

     (though a bit fishy),
     could be found necessitating cauldron
     only available for purchase in Turin
thus donned with a shrouded cape,
     aye didst make whoosh,
     hence, went there and came back
     and frankly tubby earnest,
     thence began stir'n

a bubbling concoction brew
though duration for perfect consistency
     aye lacked any clue
thus, needed to contact
     Hannibal the cannibal
     asper what to do
in order (I explained)
     to sever livingsocial,

     and forever hang my head in shame
     cuz, accidentally omitting
     one right parenthesis too few
hence, esteemed flawless glory,
     (sans error free grammarian
     reputation pitched downward
     where careless evinced
     Kamikaze nosedive, where

     matter of fact gross humiliation
     instantaneously grew
and the only viable option
     forced me to hew
admitting to egregious, fatuous, abhorent
and readily confesses
     compunction viz, grievously
     blatant Anglo Saxon

     Horrifying transgression
involving backward curved "C" sin bent
a most execrable,
     incorrigible, and unforgivable
     literary faux pas incurring
     major cosmic event
stripped of title special
     Das Scribe double bubble "A" gent!

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Upon complying never to err again
Matthew Scott Harris since
     accepted plea bargain
accepting sentence resting his chin
til indelible necklaced "U" lettered grin
forever visible to kith and kin.
Derek DM Jan 2017
You do not have to be good
Be gratefully abhorent
A jubilant banjo of colors
Bleeding together into song
With crackled verse sung
Proud melodies whipped
Choruses bent forward
Into screaming chasms of hope
Until the voice is its own
Kind of weeping reality
Where the energies lie within
The centers of us all
Arun C Sep 2015
tick tock
watch the clock
but be much more careful of the shock
I have direct live and shocking current
that is never ever abhorent
but if you have the time
then I have the rhyme
find the center
instead of going on that ******
together we can try
together all of us,... can simply just fly
David Watt Jul 2014
Misguided by my own heart,
I am led astray by ideas and goals I cannot reach.
Out of my nature I cannot achieve anything I desire.
Walking a path deigned for a greater man,
I cannot fill the shoes I covet.

I am less than I pretend to be,
Built up in a falicy of moral ideals and dreams,
like a demon sporting the wings of an Angel,
abhorent and rejected by all I aspire to be.
Why can I not be relinquished from my own chains?

Feeling dishonest in my own skin,
Who I am is not who I should be.
Living as half a man with half a heart,
living with the scars of what was taken,
left with the feelings I cannot comprehend.

If I could but Vacate this body,
And let him wake in my place,
I would feel like my existance has been for a purpose.
Instead of without meaning or direction.
I ask you, what is half a man for?

— The End —