"adverse" poems
You, I,
polymorphously perverse
your hand covers my mouth
voices adverse
Liberation, but in reverse.
Submit and admit...
Or
disposed to oppose...
I want to beg, plead,
submerse and disburse
I burst in silence for my cursed thirst
first, be more covert,
I'd prefer if we
don't
converse
I'll sing you your pleasure without
a
single
verse.
Aug 5, 2014
Aug 5, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
The whole world has PTSD,
brought about by watching
far too much TV.
Normal people becoming
neurotic or psychotic
by all the "Breaking News".
Talking heads spewing fearful
endless chapters of dread,
all with their own ax to grind
into our heads, day after day
after day until we want to scream.
Real news or fake, impossible
to know the difference.
A political landscape strewn with
landmines of division and hate.
Melting Ice, and adverse weather,
hurricanes and tornadoes devastate
and forest fires burn, as racists and
terrorists abound at every turn,
and crazy's with military weapons
killing us for sport, just to make
the nightly news, as our nation's
infrastructures crumble into ruins,
all "Breaking News day and night",
while we and the world choke and
quiver from an excessive Carb diet
of information overload, trying to
sleep bathed in bad dreams, laced
with too many strong doses of PTSD.
Aug 31, 2019
Aug 31, 2019 at 12:14 PM UTC
Crocodiles catnapping cuddling in cordial cliques,
Loafing, lollygagging, lurking low like lounging leeches,
Protective postures pouncing prey with piercing pinned precision,
Brilliant belligerent beasts basking boldly by swamp beaches,
Agressively angry attitudes among alluring adverse animals,
Deep daunting jaws of death damage drastically when dropping down,
Scales shaped like stabbing shards scrape while swimming strongly,
Opposing opposition order obedience of outrageous odious opponents,
Raged ravenous rapacious reptiles rank repulsive ratings and resourses...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 4:26 AM UTC
Integrity is the value
You place on yourself
You keep your own promises
You know yourself well
You don’t compromise
Your values, your core
Because that never changes
From what went before
Then you can be open
And give your support
Be flexible
Life just can’t distort
Or toss you around
By what others think
You’ll see opportunities
Not pull back from the brink
You’ll try those new things
With a principled life
In confidence
Not on whim
You’ll always decide
You’ll plan your direction
And not just react
You know who you are
And you have the map
You prepare your own future
On the screen of your mind
Long before it happens
It’s already designed
No matter how adverse
Or how dark the hour
Your hope burns within
And gives you new power
You pick yourself up
Rejoicing in faith
Energizing your life
And fulfilling your days
Feb 14, 2010
Feb 14, 2010 at 5:22 PM UTC
1– Most people try to avoid eye contact at all costs.
2– Most people either do not say "thank you" or mumble it as if it doesn't mean anything.
3– Most people act out of either self-interest or custom.
4– In most people, the maternal instinct is dead or at least deadened.
5– Most people don’t know how to control their child without using impact to the head or behind.
6– Children outnumber adults, and 20+ year-old children exist.
7– Most people will look for a scapegoat in even a mildly adverse situation, even if one doesn’t exist.
8– Most people have no sense of respect and are therefore not deserving of respect.
9– Most people do not recognize the humanity of others. (See Nos. 1-5, 8)
10– Most people have lost their humanity, also known as their soul.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 12:43 AM UTC
A breadcrumb I am - the morsel of my old dough,
a piece of chewed bread rotten, missed near a toe,
shredded by the sons of righteousness and “normality”,
entombed I am under the carpet to fulfil “morality”.
Mum added the yeast for me to grow, as well as flour,
Hoping my crust would golden as a vivid live flower,
She sprinkled little salt into me, to know the grimes,
Sugar too, for life brings out the salt to eyes, at times.
Dad poured the water, to soften toughness uncalled,
For man is kind too, not merely clay masked, walled -
And above all, they added affection and compassion,
They wanted me to satisfy mineself, not one’s ration.
Into the oven, 9 minutes, under fire: I show colors,
The warmth turned the heart warm for all others;
I am left to rest, to harden the shell and eternal body,
To be perfect as ma and pa wish: not adverse, shoddy.
But the stale, unpuffed, unfresh bread of this world,
covets but loathes what is good and not yet twirled,
It wishes for me to inhibit mold and evict dignity,
Mais allez, étrange moi, expose me not to malignity.
The least of their gurgling sounds puncture heads,
And the weakest of their advice the spirit dreads;
The making of me is the capacity of mine flexes,
Your ingredients suit not me, mortals and sexes.
Days yearn for you, not this battle of complexes:
You, mine old dough who suddenly “complex” is,
My parents baked me on low heat nice and gentle,
And they sear me with words not for me, mental!
Know you: Pita, Kmajj, Brioche, Shrak, or Baguette,
Bread is bread, could be different, but it is no threat.
Jan 18, 2023
Jan 18, 2023 at 9:27 AM UTC
Socrates consumed Hemlock,
Cleopatra embraced the Asp,
Alan Turing ate an apple laced with cyanide,
I, like those before me,
Have picked my poison;
An absinthe-eyed, quicksilver-tongued boy.
He was unsettled when I answered with the truth of his query,
Yes, he is poison,
I knowingly and willingly consume every drop of him,
Not all toxicity is solely adverse,
Radiation treats cancer,
Venom in low doses is an antidote,
Ethanol relaxes muscle and numbs the emotions.
He is my poison and my antidote,
He is the corrosive acid that dissolves gear-stopping rust,
I, in kind, am the poison apple of his eye,
Or so he says,
And so, we two, bask in the destruction of ourselves,
Consuming each other's pain, insecurity, madness, and lust,
Why is it that he, a poison, is the one I trust?
Jun 5, 2017
Jun 5, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
****** spit on top of a napkin
face up in the garbage
no better than-
peculiar how life turns out...
my tea still at the rim of the glass
lost all of its steam
I no longer-
what does it look like inside the mind of a broken one?
channel skipping?
static? beyond-
comprehension
what does this mean?
I don't understand...
****** spit on a napkin
atop the garbage
grabbing your attention
against your will
and leaving an...
unsettling feeling with you
like the question of what makes a true artist?
life.
life makes a true artist
it is not a choice
but what makes a true artist
what is art but a bunch of nonsense
but even nonsense has meaning
what is art but the broken expressions of the broken
artist... ?
what is a poet but a bent neck?
an artist is an ordinary person
inflicted in the mind perhaps
but this has more adverse effects on the heart
in all reality
but again... an artist is an ordinary person
who's been beaten for so long
who's sacrificed everything
unappreciated
who's been singing the same song unheard
who's ran out of communication
a new medium is born
heralding new information to those who don't need it
to those who are better off
more healthy in mind
an artist is a person who's had enough
the one who left ****** spit in the napkin
enough explaining.
Jun 6, 2012
Jun 6, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
though she walks a beautiful road
that is not all there is.
bathed in brilliance
flowing through her being as if it
were in her veins.
courage surges from every orifice:
a warrior, underestimated, unappreciated
head among the clouds
sun kissed eyes blind
to the adverse
lips graced with a wisdom beyond the years
worn
refined
radiant patience brushed over her skin
so though she walks with flowers in her hair
beauty is not all there is.
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 2:11 AM UTC
I tried to look without blinking,
I stared uninterruptedly for a long time
It got blurry for a while and it I almost couldn’t visualize for a splitsecond until I blinked and there it was staring right back at me
So I started drinking,
Wine, spirits and a lil’ liquor,
And with every sip and every glass I still felt my heart sinking from the weight of my troubled thoughts..
Day in, day out I was always caught by myself thinking,
Pondering and wishing everything away..
It was persistently adamant,
With it there was no going away, no shaking it off, no shrinking, no flinching..
Its sound piercing like tyres screeching,
Its sight gory like stealing in a lagos hood when its punishment inevitably would be lynching
It reminded me of an evangelist preaching,
Its effect was adverse 'cause classes I never attended about it whenever they were teaching..
I got my self into this mess so I guess its time to stop ********
Brace myself up for some ditching and dissing
I had it, I messed up and now its missing
In its place this monster I have created, I nursed it, I raised it
Now I gotta accept it, live with it and deal with it
Its not just a part of me, its now whom I have become..
It taunts me, it haunts me and constantly reminds me that;
I am a bad habit, I am an addict, I am eccentric, I am a misfit, and I am not going anywhere cause I am unique and I am you..
-r3d-
Sep 12, 2012
Sep 12, 2012 at 6:38 AM UTC
Without legitimate occupancy,
Adverse possession is the legal right
Of anyone who moves in and maintains
A property, so here's the deal. We must
Move in to 1600 Penn,
The current tenant having broke the lease.
The caravan from Guatemala first, Hondurans trudging slowly from the depth.
Then the Yemen children not yet murdered,
Those with preexisting conditions next,
And women whose assaults were ridiculed,
Those roughed up by cops and politicians.
Losers in the war on drugs, the big house
Having far exceeded capacity.
The mentally ill, discarded by the
Great communicator after he tore
The Solar panels off the roof. This is
Anger, not poetic license. When a
Long train of abuses and usurpations
Evinces a design to reduce them
Under absolute Despotism, it
Is their right, it is their duty to throw
Off such Government, and to provide new
Guards for their future security. Such
Has been the patient sufferance of these
And such is now the necessity which
Constrains them to alter their systems of
Government. And journalists under fire,
If there's room still left in the briefing room,
Let facts be submitted to a candid
World.
Oct 19, 2018
Oct 19, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC
sunrise
first optic pins toe-tipping play across the meadow
wind bends the forrest fringe west away
the trees adverse to receive
priestly daylight
after all the
business
completed
during a most
competitive and predatory
night
May 18, 2022
May 18, 2022 at 9:19 PM UTC
An Apathy for Effort
What happened to the world?
What happened to all of the happy people?
Drugs, money, *****
None of the above.
I'll tell you what happened.
People happened to people.
Although, not others and to each other.
People happened to themselves.
Satisfaction became fiction
Men and women lost the grip on their vision.
Not eyesight, but people forgot the initial mission.
The concept of being happy
with what you have got
And worrying less about what you want.
If everyone would just shut up
And see how truly blessed they are,
Perhaps they would see
How truly blissful life can be.
Because what is bliss, but simply
A continuity with the whole.
And not a hole in the wall,
but the make of two halves.
If half the world gave half a hoot
We might experience bliss.
But we all individually feel deserving of more
As if we should get more than what we work for.
Yet NOBODY, is willing to give more
than a lift of a finger to attain.
It's too much of a chore.
We all expect the doors of life
To open to us, like a Walmart Super-center.
Where's the effort?
Where's that fighting spirit?
It's taking a nap with all of the hypocrites.
Those who spend their days feeling
sorry for themselves.
Those who left their aspirations
in a a Mason's jar
High upon the shelves, then claiming ignorance
as to what happened to their dreams, like lost car keys.
They know where they left them.
Hanging on the seams of their memories,
Abandoned when it became too hard
To work to achieve.
It's a sad state of affairs
When a man settles for his second choice of lifestyle.
Simply because his first choice was having an affair
With difficulty. Making it fairly difficult.
What is that man scared of?
Failing? You only TRULY fail if you don't try.
so instead he settles for second best,
While his heart sits idle and cries.
His heart cries:
"WHY?! Why won't you try?"
He is scared to lose,
That's why.
The sad thing is.
It's not as hard as that man thinks.
He simply needs to go out and do it,
and he will know happiness for the rest of his life.
But of course he's now too busy,
******* it all away.
Sipping on his bottle of sorrow drowning firewater,
somewhere when it's 5 o'clock.
As the whiskey burns and numbs his senses,
he attempt to consent himself with his settlement.
Living out his days with his mind and his heart
In constant battle.
Wondering what could have been.
What SHOULD have been...
So I beg of you,
don't choose to be another misfit or mishap.
Be you and always be true.
True to your heart and ideals.
Don't ever be frightened by adversity,
Be EQUALLY adverse.
Do not ever lose your grip on what makes you, YOU.
-Nathan W. Smith
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 12:36 PM UTC
increasing the yield potential of a crop
has been the aim of Monsanto
with great efficiency
this company has hit on a jackpot
it holds a monopoly on agricultural products
yet Monsanto are selling
a very dodgy line of seeds
the cornmeal and wheat
has not a taste
which is truly sweet
people must become educated
in what they eat
the Monsanto Company
don't tell of adverse findings
about products that it vends
they bring many cancers
which affect men women and children
we all want a wholesome loaf of bread
one that hasn't had it wheat
genetically tampered with
we all deserve clean and unadulterated
food on our plates
to decrease those ever rising
cancer rates
Monsanto is a company
who cares little for our health
Monsanto is a company
who has only an interest
in making profits and wealth
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC
With a blistered heart
From unnumbered breaks,
A cloud of unshed tears
From untold betrayals,
I reenter the world
After an eternity or more
Of self imposed asylum
From a world of superficial bliss.
A world unchanged!
A cruel untended garden
Of deceptive beauty
And unkind thorny roses.
Lovelorn shadows,
Masquerading venomous claws
With beauteous flamboyance
And undesirable attraction.
Lethargic feelings,
Dousing my desires
With drowsing memoirs
Of countless emotional abuse,
Causing momentary spasms
In cerebral regions
Parading nocuous images
In the plenitude of projected beauty.
Scarred beyond immediate cure,
I recede from said world-
Too adverse for tender hearts
Back to hibernating moods
To nurse evergreen cuts
Cuts so deep, so lethal
Only the indolent strides of time
Can attempt to stitch!
Awaiting prophetic moments
Moments with mirage qualities
When in-love I can fall again
When a damsel I can trust again
When my heart can beat again
For one with pure intentions
Not putrefied by Hollywood mentors
*But virtuous in biblical ways*...
© Raphael Uzor
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 1:17 AM UTC
Never behaved in the school porcine;
Had wise words for everyone to opine;
Full of wise thoughts and memories refine;
Rachana Sharma is ready without any supine.
An eyesore progress she achieved school in
Even the trustees could no longer decline;
Her help for others whenever did she design
Was a feast – a great help and fun to dine.
For 8 years was she my dear mentor fine
From whom I learnt how to continuously grin
In adverse situations and start from begin
So that new fight and efforts lead you to win.
Earlier she was looking like a pumpkin
But now she managed her past confine:
Looking beautiful, smart, nifty and divine
Is ready ever any problem to define.
She is my inspiration, she is my Kline,
She is the best lady as a helpful friend in.
With her I developed Monorhyme fine;
And defeated many enemies malign.
A good mentor and nice for nation mine
Is none than Rachana - a brave feline.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
Nothing is absolute
And there are countless variables thrown into the mix
Do your best to simplify
Search for those high exponents to bring your base to a better place
No need for negativity
Times can get adverse and even inverse
But you must remain in power as an integer
There is no substitute for you
Distribute some of your positiveness
To all groupings of coefficients
And their properties
You have yet to reach your prime, but you will
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:16 PM UTC
What a wonderful sister, you are
For you, a lot do I care
Not all the time, may we talk
However, when it gets really dark
You are the light I badly need
Your words of advice, are always to be heeded
And interacting with you is so much fun
That it makes me forget all my pain!
What a wonderful sister, you are
With you around, is there nothing to fear
Indeed, do you have a very calming presence
And gifted are you, with oodles of common sense
No wonder, are you such a fine lawyer
A lot of trouble, do you often have to bear
However, every test do you end up clearing with flying colours
For you, are no circumstances too adverse!!
What a wonderful sister, you are
Grinning was I, from ear to ear
When you arrived a few weeks back
Brought me some respite from work
So thoughtful, was your gift
Truly, do you possess a golden heart!!
What a wonderful sister, you are
And will be, now and forever
Keep smiling and take care
And may you be blessed with a glorious future!!
Dec 17, 2024
Dec 17, 2024 at 11:25 AM UTC
Be afraid of the bohém, they may write you a silly little poém to make you love 'em.
Or even worse, in reverse, with their verse, coerce your mind and soul to converse.
And even if their ascent is traverse and the obstacles adverse, routes to them are diverse.
They refine their craft to give you a raft, don't be daft, they rehearse for the terse,
tiptoeing over the perverse, not wanting to averse. They wanna choke the horses of your hearse.
They have no need to beg and plead. Just a wish to slap your *** your steed.
They just wanna make fear disperse for it they accurse, knowing well it's a curse.
No need to look for your purse. Your courage will theirs reimburse
and your smile their swollen fingers nurse.
See, the reaper wants the tails of coins thus places them on eyes faced reverse.
The bohém kick groins and leave traces but from coins take a print of the obverse.
Why? Cause they want not heads, but what's in them. They want your head to stay ahead.
Cause when a head is spiked by tails and filled with flashy tales, it is as good as dead.
They want to help you stay afloat - forget about the raft, think bigger, think of a boat.
Like evergreen crickets they ask you to disburse your fears and reverse your tears.
They ask not for a penny, just a thought or two, not many.
Like the ***** eyed and slightly sane miss Moneypenny.
Some call it a gift, many a curse. A curse the bohém can inverse
cause they submerse spirit in a lyrical sea and lower the stars for you to see.
Remember and beware, if you reward them with something as simple a stare,
you could be blinded by a hearty glare. Now you've been reminded, all's fair and square.
So why not just stay there? It's just your spirit they may ensnare like a hare,
only to mend it's wounded knee so that it can again hop away and be free.
Art is the heart of the bohém and their heart is their art.
So if you ever want to, thank them not with money but with a snack,
sprinkle a piece of your heart with honey. They'll bite it and give you two back.
Eat one too and make like a dove to flee to the place you really want to be.
Ride the waves like Nikolai's bumblebee and fulfill your uncharted destiny.
Dec 7, 2011
Dec 7, 2011 at 4:44 PM UTC
There's a man with no face
amongst an empire of apes
that spill blood like fine wine
made of concord grapes
I carry the worlds weight
with enemies pursuein
but the king of the jungle
won't stop til I'm ruined
Now you can call this my sedition with semantics
or satanics toward the nation
but let me advocate this adverse scope.
And holla at my brothers who's down
and salvage hope.
we neglect our abilities
to comence to be
masters of our destiny
we choose to stay tantalllized by the streets
get lock up stay wishin we was free.
Ballisitics takin' away all our family
these anomalies
got us lookin stupid
forgetting we're not aboriginies
of this land oh man
we can never bow to the man
Choosin to bang
instead of abstain
from this
belligerant babble
the system rattles your cage
with rage
we anhiliate
assimilate
the emotions it produces
abstract thinkin causeing back lash
abysmal thoughts of how to get that fast cash
when cats dash past
we take everything
even all their back stash
but we tend to abnegate
the zenith
to which we are
entitled
archaic ways are the axiom
so we need to absorb this alchemy
and abandom them
alliviate
this absentmindedness
and abtruse forces as our accomplices
There's a man with no face
amongst an empire of apes
that spill blood like fine wine
made of concord grapes
I carry the worlds weight
with enemies pursuein
but the king of the jungle
won't stop til I'm ruined
Jun 9, 2012
Jun 9, 2012 at 3:54 PM UTC
I've chosen to immerse myself in you-
in every little thing you do.
It took so long for me to recognize the curse.
He made it his mission to coerce me,
He made it is mission to decide
every little move I made-
it all came down to wrong versus right.
I chose to submerse myself in my own thoughts,
ignore the facts that were in plain sight.
I was wrong about him,
all that was left was you and
you're all I need
even if all we would have is one night.
I've chosen to reverse,
I set aside my lonely curse
you're worth all the lies I had to sort though-
I finally found you in the light.
Yes, it was worth it to reverse this curse,
just so I could finally smile.
I've chosen to traverse this life with you by my side,
now I know all the pain was worth it-
I'm no longer entangled in the resentment my heart used to hide.
Now I see my future ahead of me,
and no matter how adverse,
I'll always be proud of my decision to reverse.
We are worth everything I had to go through,
I finally have happiness in my sights,
yes, it was worth it to reverse this curse,
just so you could finally be mine.
Jun 10, 2013
Jun 10, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
Why is it that a woman suffers?
She is the pain bearer
She carries a human with her
She goes through pain with a fear
Careful to make sure she doesn't hurt anyone
She walks carefully not to tip or fall
Just because she doesn't hurt the one
In her womb, she walks delicately
And when she doesn't give birth to a son
She is given more pain than the birth has ever given her.
She is a curse
A blasphemy on the surface of earth
And when situations become adverse
She is the one to clean the dirt.
Why is that a woman suffers?
In each and every part of this world
In every situation that occurs
She is beaten and slit
She is made to pay
The expenses of someone else's debts.
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 5:26 AM UTC
Curses
Adverse current
And drifted out to sea
Refusing restriction
Determined to be me
Mothers and Fathers
Can Be
Disturbing shadows
And
Reversed archetypes
With a fallen crown
Come on wise one
Quit beating on the
Same drum
Of a familiar string
Continuously negative thoughts
Keeping you where
You don't want to be
If you can't think about
A
Situation
Differently
Physically leave
Use a different drum
To maintain the beat
Of that high flying disk
Positivity
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 7:14 PM UTC
All-Conquering Death! by thy resistless pow’r,
Hope’s tow’ring plumage falls to rise no more!
Of scenes terrestrial how the glories fly,
Forget their splendors, and submit to die!
Who ere escap’d thee, but the saint of old
Beyond the flood in sacred annals told,
And the great sage, whom fiery coursers drew
To heav’n’s bright portals from Elisha’s view;
Wond’ring he gaz’d at the refulgent car,
Then snatch’d the mantle floating on the air.
From Death these only could exemption boast,
And without dying gain’d th’ immortal coast.
Not falling millions sate the tyrant’s mind,
Nor can the victor’s progress be confin’d.
But cease thy strife with Death, fond Nature, cease:
He leads the virtuous to the realms of peace;
His to conduct to the immortal plains,
Where heav’n’s Supreme in bliss and glory reigns.
There sits, illustrious Sir, thy beauteous spouse;
A gem-blaz’d circle beaming on her brows.
Hail’d with acclaim among the heav’nly choirs,
Her soul new-kindling with seraphic fires,
To notes divine she tunes the vocal strings,
While heav’n’s high concave with the music rings.
Virtue’s rewards can mortal pencil paint?
No—all descriptive arts, and eloquence are faint;
Nor canst thou, Oliver, assent refuse
To heav’nly tidings from the Afric muse.
As soon may change thy laws, eternal fate,
As the saint miss the glories I relate;
Or her Benevolence forgotten lie,
Which wip’d the trick’ling tear from Misry’s eye.
Whene’er the adverse winds were known to blow,
When loss to loss ensu’d, and woe to woe,
Calm and serene beneath her father’s hand
She sat resign’d to the divine command.
No longer then, great Sir, her death deplore,
And let us hear the mournful sigh no more,
Restrain the sorrow streaming from thine eye,
Be all thy future moments crown’d with joy!
Nor let thy wishes be to earth confin’d,
But soaring high pursue th’ unbodied mind.
Forgive the muse, forgive th’ advent’rous lays,
That fain thy soul to heav’nly scenes would raise.
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