"aggravate" poems
I asked the Lord that I might grow
In faith, and love, and every grace;
Might more of His salvation know,
And seek, more earnestly, His face.
‘Twas He who taught me thus to pray,
And He, I trust, has answered prayer!
But it has been in such a way,
As almost drove me to despair.
I hoped that in some favored hour,
At once He’d answer my request;
And by His love’s constraining pow’r,
Subdue my sins, and give me rest.
Instead of this, He made me feel
The hidden evils of my heart;
And let the angry pow’rs of hell
Assault my soul in every part.
Yea more, with His own hand He seemed
Intent to aggravate my woe;
Crossed all the fair designs I schemed,
Blasted my gourds, and laid me low.
Lord, why is this, I trembling cried,
Wilt thou pursue thy worm to death?
“‘Tis in this way, the Lord replied,
I answer prayer for grace and faith.
These inward trials I employ,
From self, and pride, to set thee free;
And break thy schemes of earthly joy,
That thou may’st find thy all in Me.”
~ John Newton (1725-1807)
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 1:08 PM UTC
I'm too despressed to notice I'm stressed out
Suppressed emotions inside, shouldn't let out
Seeing is believing but what I see isn't real
I am forced to accept these "realities" and ignore the way I feel
I don't mean to sadden, entertain, bore, or aggravate,
For a decade I find that this is how I communicate
The only way I can precisely speak out on the unhealthy pleasures
As the chemicals of my brain, they fornicate
These levels of relationships aren't supposed to be
It'll **** me sometime later, look at how it has ruined my personality
Seeing is believing, but you won't believe what I see
How can I act 'normal' when you won't acknowledge I can't do 'human being'
My animalistic compulsions are fuelled by my failing brain functions
Don't get too close cause I'll try to bite, I sympathise for your flesh when I malfuntion
Don't be scared, I'm not canibalistic, I just like to use my teeth
Humans scare me, I must defend myself, uh, I mean, to smile and eat
I'm not afraid to say it, but I'm scared when I'm saying it, I have to say
I have been observing your mundane human actions, I really don't want to be put away
I always feel foreign, alienated, out-of-place
But because I'm "considerate," I have to bite my tongue to save me some face
I'm too stressed out to notice that I'm depressed
Wanting mental soundessnes, yes, peace, my hallucinations don't give me rest
My taughts speed down their highway, my delusions are always a-fest
They inflict beneath my exterior, but for the public eye, I wear a crest
"I wear my skin well, don't you think?" I lie, becuase it ill-fits
I am totally normal, "I'm fine." Can't change the fact I'm a misfit.
The beams that bear my bag of meat rust and thus begin to weaken
The lethal sagging's caused by the mental luggage, I'm not heard, even though I'm speaking
Many persons think that I'm overly paranoid, I must admit, that I am
You would be the same way too, if about your health, no one ever gives a ****
Help doesn't come, because their 'laters' always becomes 'nevers'
I am not that superhuman, can't keep myself together, forever
They claim that they would help me, some way, somehow, but their actions never initiate
Someday, sometime, it would all be over, through a thorough death physical or mental
Oh yes, I'm still believing, you can't accuse me of not having faith.
I look forward to my healing, but all the while, my brain chemicals fornicate.
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 7:18 PM UTC
I sing of life at state expense
a state devoid of common sense
addicted to obesity
impolitic in body weight
yet headed for austerity
as other people’s money ends
plebeian class-revolt transcends
our bureaucratic history.
They stack the monthly welfare decks
complain the service second-rate
those sullen clients, thankless louts
pajama-clad with tattooed pouts
whose girlfriends swell while babies cry;
the fathers mumble, sagging high
and wait in lines. The women try
to fool the lunar period
conceptions waxing myriad
while teenage dads discover ***
and social workers cash the checks
the daily urban nightmare is
enough to scare a nation broke
in clouds of marijuana smoke:
the cashless global mystery.
The breeders born in tropic lands
are tempted till they take the bait
no baby-momma understands
what family means, what life demands
Your undertakers overstate
in order to remunerate
your Democratic history:
a bankrupt urban mystery
the not-so-Great Society.
The ghetto sperm-donation ploy
makes babies but maintains the boy
to run around from mom to mom
slow-motion population bomb
as if to merely demonstrate
that social program funders wait
till number-crunchers aggravate
the urban teenage welfare state.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:36 PM UTC
I cry, I frown, I aggravate, I shout
She laughs, she smiles, she simplifies and rejoices aloud
She is totally different from me
Se lives in me but is always free
When I frighten, she enlighten
with every step she brighten
she is a child in me
full of glee
when I become quiet in sadness
she does all work in quite Madness
what I deceive, is her believe
This bond is what makes us unique
We take different trains from the same station
My every work is a subject to her allegation
our roads don't match, but our destinations do
I don't know why her clumsiness is better than my neatness to
We both are one unit
I am a misfit, she is a nit wit
But, I lack the charisma she has
yet I am learning the way she act as
So what, we take different paths
we reach the same parks
Hurry up, I need to end this poem
to stop her playing from a toy lion...
Jan 13, 2021
Jan 13, 2021 at 1:55 AM UTC
The wind screams,
in whispers.
It is filling
in the moments
I can feel
what it says.
Words are clearly felt.
I hear
the movements
as they follow,
motions
of my head.
At times
they sway away,
away they sway
at the times when
the moment is not
with me,
or I with it.
However,
at most times
I am.
And the wind screams,
to remind me of that.
Tis' comforting
to the heart.
Beautifully aggravate.
Scream on,
I plead,
my soul begs thee
to scream on
and relieve me
from my
thoughts,
delusions,
confusions,
whisper those screams
I plead,
to me.
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
Poor soul, the centre of my sinful earth,
My sinful earth these rebel powers array,
Why dost thou pine within and suffer dearth,
Painting thy outward walls so costly gay?
Why so large cost, having so short a lease,
Dost thou upon thy fading mansion spend?
Shall worms, inheritors of this excess,
Eat up thy charge? is this thy body’s end?
Then soul live thou upon thy servant’s loss,
And let that pine to aggravate thy store;
Buy terms divine in selling hours of dross;
Within be fed, without be rich no more.
So shall thou feed on Death, that feeds on men,
And Death once dead, there’s no more dying then.
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U gave me that leaf, & said u were never gonna leave, Cause we were meant to live, now I have to Outlive & conceive the pain of grieve,
Who are u to tell me when to meditate? Please go your way and don't dictate, I have been born to innovate, Learn from me and don't aggravate,
Why dig into my past just to excavate things and deliberate , Yet you imitate and commentate and say it irritates, Never hesitate to prostate, Cause it elevate and motivates my innovative.
Even if your silences grieve so loud in my ears, I will never freeze, I will always leave, Because I never lived, I am never relief, I can't be pleased, Even when u sneeze. It only aggravates my pain when I eat, Dats the reason I refused to breath.
How can you call me fake When that's what you are, What you are is what I say , What I have seen is what am saying..
Fake, fake, fake, Fake u are like fanta Colorful yet distrustful Great pleasure Hidden smile, Full of Fantasy, deceitful u are.
You said u were my friend, then why stab me twice and expect me to talk once, U have twined &twisted; me, Enough of the Glossy bossy, mischievous in motivation, Malicious in thought,
Why judge when you can settle to be a judge in a jungle Stop been unjustly, & learn to be justifiable,
Now it's time for u to leave , superstitiously I have lived suspicious u have been, Dangerous you have become, Unpredictable you are , You're definitely a ********* You're never my friend
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 7:24 AM UTC
ever
the disappearing man
habitually
vanishing
he stays disappeared
as this
be his will
he'll never appear
ever again
disappearing
is his lasting refrain
his disappearing act
doth aggravate
as he cares not
to be noted on the slate
he vanished
some two weeks ago
and since then
hasn't put in a show
should he decide to reappear
in the coming days
he'll be greeted
with a none too
congenial hooray
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 9:48 AM UTC
One of his sick molars
was jarring, crying foul,
the root canal treatment
she did, the first, on him
made it quiet,it touched
exactly the love nerve.
Love sprouted,got rooted between
the curvy dentist and him
in exactly five sittings;
the soil was fertile.
The romantic dentist seized
his pining heart too quick,
the causes and effects of
that pain, she whispered, was similar
to what she felt , when he whimpered
leaning his head on her full *******
No reason he had, not to surmise
she didn't do everything she should,
to make his ailing tooth perfect.
Coochiecooing to her, he even
called her" the tooth fairy's baby girl"
overwhelmed she gifted him a smooch.
Each sitting fallowed
soliciting that rare,tender dental care,
on her cozy swiveling chair,
brought them closer to bouts of necking
and things more adventurous,
(may the medical ethics, pardon the pair!)
Vigorous narratives she breathlessly
reeled off, on the state of his each tooth
brought her more closer to the chair
than what professionally was expected,
her perfumed warm presence
brought aches, not necessarily dental.
A stinging pain on a root repaired
at a time his 'root canal sweet heart' was away
compels him to explore for a new chair.
The horror of horrors, it was revealed
here, a piece of broken iron implement
his sweet heart, has left within the root;
a cover up as she couldn't retrieve it
with her skills inept,
it did aggravate, caused the pain!
Isn't the betrayal of the kids,
in the name of tooth fairy,non existent
far less heinous, than a cheating like this!
could any one blame him for this,
to escape a bad tooth future, he did
the best one could; the comely tooth fairy
that found the fault and mended it
shows him his place in the
swivel chair of her heart these days!
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:02 AM UTC
If a tale need be tattled,
the snawky Snawk would arise.
With its snickley tongue of arsenic blue,
and loathsome gamboge eyes.
To the King of the stickley Snicklers,
the Snawk would spill his talk.
But scuttlebutt was all t'was,
for he was but a snawky Snawk.
Might you ask
who am I be?
I am a jawky Jawk
who talks incessantly
of the snawky Snawk,
with his snickley tongue,
and his breath of kyarn,
and Beelzebub dung.
You see I knows of him all too well
and well he knows of me.
Invidious brothers, one of the other,
same Mother both have we.
Now the snawky Snawk spins yarns
so dark and thick and odious.
One might find his fatuous canards
to be though flatulent, commodious.
But If ye be a gawky Gawk
of the snawky Snawk beware,
For his loathsome camboge eyes
can squinny a ribald stare.
To your knees his gaze will bring you,
you'll tell all the tales you know.
Then he'll tattle them to the Snickler King
and off to the headsman you will go.
That is, unless, you know the ballad
the Snawk is most offended by.
'bout the frowzy blowzy stable boy
with only just one eye.
He lost his eye in a snickering match
twixt The Snickley King and he.
But got the best of the old nabob,
for he could cachinnate you see.
He did cachinnate and aggravate,
till the old King did concede.
The stable boy was the better of the two,
his tongue cut like a snickersnee.
For the frowzy blowzy stable boy
was not able to tell a lie,
nor could he mince his words with honey,
of the truth he could not hide.
And if one day you find yourself
in the land of the quidnunc kith.
Shun the snickley Snicklers,
and their sniggering King forthwith.
But if ye meet up with the stable boy
though untidy he may be.
Dare not tattle of a soul,
he'll let fly his snickersnee.
And remember well, the ballad he sings,
of the King he did do down.
Drink in its waspy strain and keep it nigh,
lest the snawky Snawk cometh 'round.
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 8:33 PM UTC
Procrastinate to irritate
Aggravate to agitate
Treading on thin ice
Are these malingering time wasters of life
Festering in ignorance
Frolicking in abstinence
Wading in their excrement are these malingering time wasters of life.
Arrogance in abundance
Subtlety null and void
Unwittingly self confident are these malingering time wasters of life
Belligerent in the face of peace
Weary to face their fears
Blasé about things that matter are these malingering time wasters of life
Malingering becomes
Mal'ignorance
Mal'ignorance becomes M'alone
Therefore the malingering time wasters shall forever this earth roam.
Feb 22, 2013
Feb 22, 2013 at 9:11 AM UTC
1. Go under water and breathe in.
2. Take your dinner knife and push it through your heart. Slowly.
3. Open up your skull, and fill it with bees. Dance around a bit to aggravate them.
4. Stare into the sun without blinking.
5. Stick your tongue to a stop sign pole when the temperature is below zero.
6. Walk across a fire pit. Hell, just stand still in the middle.
7. Run as fast as you can and hit the corner of your counter with your hip bones.
8. Bite on your lower lip until it bleeds.
9. Lie on the ground and have someone put rocks onto your chest.
10. Pour grits on the floor and kneel upon them. You'll bleed some, but that's okay.
10. Go outside during an autumn evening with a sweatshirt on. Do you feel that breeze?
9. Read the Bible and wonder why God didn't tell anyone to write a book solely about you.
8. Play with children.
7. Stay up late and watch your favorite shows under thick blankets and pillows.
6. Put up Christmas lights and turn off all the others and think of how happy you were in every Christmas you've ever had.
5. Go to your local ball park and catch a game.
4. Look at how the stars match the same constellations in your eyes.
3. Go camping and wake up early. Make sure you make hot chocolate and fried potatoes and wear a hoody the whole trip.
2. Read poetry and sit at the ocean.
1. Fall in love with yourself too.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 10:30 PM UTC
I walk across
to Hannah's flat
in Arrol House
and knock at the door
Mrs Scott opens
the door and stands there
she's a short thin woman
with a face of granite
with a slit
where her mouth is
whit is it?
she says
her Scottish accent
rough as stone
is Hannah home?
I ask
I dunnae kinn
she replies
HANNAH
she bellows
over her shoulder
Benedcit is haur fur ye
she adds
scowling at me
jist coming
Hannah replies
from back in the flat
yoo'll hae tae bide
Mrs Scott says
and walks back inside
leaving me
on the red tiled step
I look into the interior
of the flat
and smell breakfast
having been cooked
I look back
into the Square
kids are playing
near by
on the pram sheds
and over by the wall
girls are doing handstands
their feet
against the wall
dresses falling
over their heads
showing underwear
sorry about Mum
she has a mouth on her
Hannah says
where we going?
she asks
thought we'd go
to the South Bank
see the Thames and boats
and have ice cream
I say
do I need money?
she asks
just about 2/-
I say
for bus fares
and ice cream
I'll ask Mum
for a handout
but wait for the answer
Mum have you 2/-
I can have?
Hannah asks
fa dae ye hink
Ah am Rockerfeller?
nae Ah huvnae
her mother replies
no problem
I say to Hannah
I'll have enough
for us both
are you sure?
yes don't aggravate
your mother more
than you have to
so Hannah gets her coat
and we walk off
through the Square
she's like that sometimes
Hannah says
she's as tight
as a wing nut
we walk down the slope
and up Meadow Row
I ask her how her father is
she says
he's Ok but in
the doghouse more often
as not with Mum
but he's a softy
to Mum's hardness
but Mum says
he's soft in the heed
but he's lovely really
Hannah says
-I know her old man
he's English and a bit
simple after helping
to empty out Belsen camp
in 1945 where some
he told me were
more dead as alive-
we wait at the bus stop
she with her dark hair
pony tailed
with a tartan skirt
and white blouse
and me in blue jeans
and white shirt
and quiff of brown hair
and hazel eyes
she with a budding beauty
with her mother's
touch of tongue
who if roused
could give words
full lung.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 3:25 PM UTC
938
Fairer through Fading—as the Day
Into the Darkness dips away—
Half Her Complexion of the Sun—
Hindering—Haunting—Perishing—
Rallies Her Glow, like a dying Friend—
Teasing with glittering Amend—
Only to aggravate the Dark
Through an expiring—perfect—look—
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Frustration, aggravation, confusion, and irritation.
I don’t understand why you make me feel this way.
Do you try to irritate, to aggravate?
Do you frustrate and confuse to amuse you?
Games that you play are getting in the way.
We could be so good, but the games that you play…
Make me want to get as far away as I can from you.
Always underfoot, always within hearing, I cannot understand
Why you think this is so endearing.
You need to stop and think about what you are killing.
It is a chance at a great romance, but you would rather play your games.
Go away, Little Man, until you can understand.
Perhaps then there will be room for you, but don’t expect me to wait.
I can find someone else who won’t frustrate, aggravate, confuse, or irritate.
Yeah!
Aug 9, 2010
Aug 9, 2010 at 7:49 AM UTC
sometimes I stop at you
and look
with eyes of grateful wonder
your spirit still all shiny
yet you are still here with me
yes some things aggravate
but why should they, if unsurprising?
they shouldn't really get to me
it's your different way of singing
well-seasoned are my campaigns
i've loved and lost a few
i come with all my baggage
to be here with you
i think that I am blessed
and live by this adage
happy with a playful angel
not being unaccompanied baggage
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:12 PM UTC
Death of a Poet
Bittersweet, the whispers in my head,
Slugging tender punches intended to dismiss –
and yet they aggravate my sensitivities.
Calm, the winds that catch my sails
churning waters flow beneath my bow –
yet aggravate my need for comfort.
I witness beauty in the stars that hang their glowing spark
an effervescence in night's taut and endless hold –
yet aggravate my desire to endure another day.
On this Sea of Consciousness my shapeless form exists
to float upon its undulations and ride the coming storm –
knowing that sea's starving mouth
hungers to consume a ragged soul.
And knowing that this soul is mine.
Now sinking deeply to bottom's waiting bed
I close the final curtain
of a poet's pathetic act
this pretense that he existed –
as a poet –
at all.
Birth of a Poet
Renewed,
light beckons my arrival
spirit’s song still buried in this heart
its beating throb nurtures undying lessons
awareness courses through a sunken soul.
Returned to water’s restless surface
A vessel waits unscarred from stormy ire
I paddle, sensing land’s embrace –
encouraging my desires…
… to aggravate my sensitivities
… earn my comfort
… and encourage my desire to endure another day.
As this new act begins the curtain rises to reveal
a soul finding ground to call his own – and knowing –
that he never existed –
any less –
than a poet –
at all.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 10:29 AM UTC
I’m sitting with my feet upon the taps,
your naked body slightly squashed behind.
I take down my hair, upon my shoulders feel it fall,
closely followed by your damp hand.
The air thick with watery smoke
and scratching at the door is your **** cat.
I’m sure she thinks she’s your mistress, your cat
and as we soak together her claws tap
out in the hall. I think if the place went up in smoke
she’d take her chance to save you, leaving me behind.
I’ve tried building bridges, putting down my hand
but she just sniffs and twitches, even her tail falls.
You climb out of the bath and the water level falls.
Open the door and in seconds you **** cat
is twisting around your legs. You’re reaching out your hand
she kisses you with her wet nose. Now you tap
away downstairs, she hurries on behind,
desperate for you; an addict desperate for smoke.
I find you in the garden, having a smoke
and all around you blossom falls.
Silent apart from our breathing, then, from behind,
I knew we couldn’t be rid of her, your **** cat
appears, whining! In the breeze her cat-flap taps,
she jumps up knocking the cigarette from your hand.
I place a new cigarette in your hand
and give myself one too. We smoke
together in the darkness and tap
the ends making tiny snowflakes fall.
Still we’re plagued by your **** cat
as she impatiently circles behind.
We climb the stairs with her following behind
and you laugh and lightly take my hand,
which seems to aggravate the cat.
The bedroom smells of stale smoke,
onto the mattress we fall
and in the breeze the blind taps.
As we fall asleep I feel your body behind.
I reach back my hand but instead of you it taps
something soft as smoke; between us is your **** cat.
Mar 7, 2012
Mar 7, 2012 at 9:46 AM UTC
But this state of mind
is not self-chosen
but ****** upon
by life's myriad slings
of suffering
and indifference
the body and mind
are first buffeted
and later bruised and hurt
marks of pain are imbedded
like those branded
on the backs
of sheep and lambs
to stay and persist
to linger on and to violate
until life's last breath--
to be mortal
to be human
to feel
to hope
is to know Weltschmerz
sooner or later
few could such escape
seldom does its intensity
subside or abate
the monotony
the sameness
the chagrin
the weariness
the emptiness
the unchanging taste
of repeated experience
the brevity of joy
the hard knock of constant sorrow
on the weak and vulnerable door
of the heart, already shrinking
and sinking
the too-quick ending
of a love-song
and the night--kiss
vanishing
at the first peep
of the day's dawning
the unbearable thirst that's only
satisfied momentarily
but never quenched
soon enough the spring
dries up and the drought
sets in to aggravate--the despair
that returns to roost, hovering
ready for descending
on the self in quivering--
life has lost its meaning
living is but struggling
the moon has gone into hiding
the stars are tired of glittering
the tides are waning
the flowers are drooping
the trees are weeping
and love is farewelling--
Weltschmerz
the ultimate angst
that festers and invades
our total being.
Jan 16, 2018
Jan 16, 2018 at 3:16 AM UTC
I’ll mimic Matterhorn or the worn ways we window gaze and swipe left
or turn right on the green light of another cliche
If you swear gray is all the shades you’ll
put on lamps to match the grayscale duvet
Then catch me if you cat o’ nine tails
a swallowed whale,
We swear with chapped lips a waterworn promise
Maybe the Amish had it right and we’re a little bit snobbish.
I’ll Jack O’Lantern your etch-a-sketch erotica,
Not much scarier, these days, trick or treat.
Q-tips got your tongue? I’ll Question where you Came From 4 as long i Chan.
You don’t leave the house anymore except for groceries.
Catch me if you cat o’ nine tails
a swallowed whale,
Nineveh won’t wait, it’s time to break bread with danger and death.
Jan 17, 2021
Jan 17, 2021 at 11:55 PM UTC
I love all the preparation
For December celebration
The office and school parties
Gifts for those you can’t deny
Sending cards and buying wrapping paper
It’s all just to prevent jealousy and anger
Now to the family you'll agree it’s time
To pick up that tree and make it chime
With lights shining on branches and colorful wrapped packages under the tree
Don’t forget the Nativity scene and color wheel don’t you feel a bit of glee?
Great care is taken to wrap presents and decorate
All for the day when the relatives and family aggravate
Soon another year will be out of the way
And then the Christmas bills come to stay
Copyright 2013
All rights Reserved
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 11:43 AM UTC
my cuddly teddy bear
and I shall snuggle up tonight
we'll stay under the covers
until the dawning light
if teddy does any farting
during the night
I'll toss him out of bed
with the greatest delight
should my teddy
not behave in bed
he'll be sleeping on the floor
minus a pillow for his head
teddy better not irk me
or overly aggravate
for if he does
I'll severely castigate
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
Reach for you, you do not wake.
Crying wait,
Hesitate.
You will stir when I flake,
Call me fake,
Hesitate.
Scream too late and watch me sate.
You debate,
Hesitate.
Loving you, "my" soulmate.
Aggravate,
Hesitate.
Playing games you'll dominate,
First-rate.
Hesitate.
...hesitate...
DEVASTATE
Hesitate.
s u ff o c a t e
SUFFOCATE
Reach for you, and you now wake.
Soulmate.
Suffocate.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 12:51 AM UTC