"animalism" poems
abolitionism
absenteeism
absolutism
abstractionism
absurdism
academicism
academism
achromatism
acrotism
actinism
activism
adoptianism
adoptionism
adventurism
aeroembolism
aestheticism
ageism
agism
agnosticism
agrarianism
alarmism
albinism
alcoholism
aldosteronism
algorism
alienism
allelism
allelomorphism
allomorphism
alpinism
altruism
amateurism
amoralism
anabaptism
anabolism
anachronism
analphabetism
anarchism
anecdotalism
aneurism
anglicism
animalism
animism
anisotropism
antagonism
anthropocentrism
anthropomorphism
anthropopathism
antialcoholism
antiauthoritarianism
antiblackism
anticapitalism
anticlericalism
anticolonialism
anticommercialism
anticommunism
antielitism
antievolutionism
antifascism
antifeminism
antiferromagnetism
antihumanism
antiliberalism
antimaterialism
antimilitarism
antinepotism
antinomianism
antiquarianism
antiracism
antiradicalism
antirationalism
antirealism
antireductionism
antiritualism
antiromanticism
antiterrorism
aphorism
apocalypticism
apocalyptism
archaism
asceticism
assimilationism
associationism
asterism
astigmatism
asynchronism
atavism
atheism
athleticism
atomism
atonalism
atropism
atticism
autecism
authoritarianism
autism
autoecism
autoeroticism
autoerotism
automatism
automorphism
baalism
baptism
barbarianism
barbarism
behaviorism
biblicism
bibliophilism
bicameralism
biculturalism
bidialectalism
bilateralism
bilingualism
bimetallism
biologism
bioregionalism
bipartisanism
bipedalism
biracialism
blackguardism
bogyism
bohemianism
bolshevism
boosterism
bossism
botulism
bourbonism
boyarism
bromism
brutism
bruxism
bureaucratism
cabalism
caciquism
cambism
cannibalism
capitalism
careerism
casteism
catabolism
catastrophism
catechism
cavalierism
centralism
centrism
ceremonialism
charism
charlatanism
chauvinism
chemism
chemotropism
chimaerism
chimerism
chrism
chromaticism
cicisbeism
cinchonism
civicism
civism
classicism
classism
clericalism
clonism
cockneyism
collaborationism
collectivism
colloquialism
colonialism
colorism
commensalism
commercialism
communalism
communism
communitarianism
conceptualism
concretism
confessionalism
conformism
congregationalism
connubialism
conservatism
constitutionalism
constructivism
consumerism
controversialism
conventionalism
corporatism
corporativism
cosmism
cosmopolitanism
cosmopolitism
countercriticism
counterculturalism
counterterrorism
creationism
credentialism
cretinism
criticism
cronyism
cryptorchidism
cryptorchism
cubism
cultism
cynicism
czarism
dadaism
dandyism
defeatism
deism
demonism
denominationalism
despotism
determinism
deviationism
diabolism
diamagnetism
May 12, 2017
May 12, 2017 at 12:16 PM UTC
****
Bitter tears of pain,
this anguish of my broken soul.
Burning skin with scratches,
pride that will never be whole.
This unending nightmare
of being surrounded by wolves.
Devouring my flesh and innocence,
piece by piece, part by part.
Execrable faces changing like street lights,
lecherous with sarcastic grin, oozing with saliva.
That invidious stench of animalism,
penetrating every pore.
Noxious vandalism breaking every
fiber and destroying the very core.
Thrown on streets, like a soiled cloth,
smeared with ***** and blood.
Unconscious, unclothed, shattered
with unending seizures and spasms.
Wounds heals but scars remains,
And whenever I will touch them
I will relieve the pain.
This question of being woman,
I’ll ask again and again and again.
They say hang’em, but it will
Only be freedom from there hellish mind.
Why not let them be among thousand men
Who **** them, again and again.
Sometimes we have to speak
The language they understand.
bold(Poem dedicated to the victim of **** in Delhi.)bold
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 9:22 AM UTC
You subtly strum soft passionate symphonies of pathos
and are wordless in casual relapse
to canals of bliss
and carnal bane-
Schisms of cannibalism eat at my soft humanity
with cries of animalism-
that are **** animated in oil.
I consume you on dull nights
because you are there no matter what
And I hate the way you purse your lips
a stenosis of encapsulated disapproval
even pursed in pleasure
Your closed eyes give away more than
any assuming part of fleshy eyelids
slits of white shine as unfaithful mirrors
reflecting my own narcissism.
Afterward in comfortable silence-
two quotation marks still hang naked
trapped in the smell of sweat,
wrapped elaborately around
"I love you"
standing like an alabaster sentinel
but acting more as a crossing guard,
dictating my need
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 9:55 PM UTC
My eyes weren't burned blind with hot oil
I am not a brainwashed cult member
I do not think ignorance is bliss
And I see lies and truth as night and day
Some people speak to me
Like I've never walked outside my door
As if the truth could **** me
"But I'll tell you anyway"
We've all heard that one before
I know what's happening
I know that I am not the only person you're seeing
I know that you're vicious in your animalistic ways
The animalism that society identifies as "manly"
I'm sure others have received the text
The phone call
The words that make us feel needed
The words that make me feel like I am doing something I want to do
Even if I don't
I know that you're not perfect
I know that your mind is obsessive
And compulsive
And meticulous like neat stacks of paper
Or freshly cut grass
I still don't know how you value me
As a person
As an object
As a heart
As a brain
It could be any of the listed above
And even though you're not the perfect gentleman
I understand that people aren't perfect
I'm not blind to your mistakes
No one is covering my ears
Or hindering my senses
The truth is right in front of me
You are the truth
People look at me
As if I am an orphaned child
A recent widow
Still in denial because of the trauma
That life has presented to us
I know that you can be horrible
Cruel and abusive
At the same time
I know you can make me feel like the only person who has ever rested in your arms
And even if I'm not the only one
I know I'm not the only one
I accept it
Because your presence makes me feel better about myself
Your face motivates me to do well in all I do
Your body encourages me to run for miles and do hundreds of lunges
Maybe I'm using you just as much as you may be using me
We're messed up and mortified and scarred
"You can do better" they say
"You deserve someone who will treat you like a princess because you're intellectual and pretty"
What if I don't want that
What if all I want is to complacently stay
In a place that I don't necessarily belong
But it feels right
So I do
And that's why they think I'm blind
Senseless
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 9:28 PM UTC
The shadows scream like hyenas with excitement,
making sure no one else gets a peak at the demonstration.
A girl being devoured by a wolf can be quite a show.
Her flesh being torn piece by piece,
the results, cauterized skin and scratches that are beyond repair.
Now at war with herself, she starts drowning.
Every night praying and replaying that ****** mess.
A blame game begins.
The fingers being pointed are her own,
towards herself.
Seeking safety in strangers,
smoking reds, drinking box wine and loose lips
led the wolf and the girl to a place beyond the pool house.
A place where animalism was profoundly thick in the air,
penetrating every pore.
Her wounds healed but scars remained.
Did she bring it upon herself?
It is in a wolf’s nature to seek out the weak and put them in their place.
The piercing disturbance brought the devil to play that night.
Waking up to the cold reality.
It’s just a scar,
but it’s enough to keep her going.
Her friends open arms at the end of the race are her last hope,
and she’s clawing her way to the finish line.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 1:23 PM UTC
We are two wolves
Tearing at each other’s flesh
Biting in with savage need
Pushing and pulling for dominance.
We are two wolves
Working off of undiluted instincts
Of euphoric animalism.
We rip away our human pelts
And reveal our battle worn skins
Blemished with past wars and historic victories.
We are two wolves
Growling with pleasure and an insatiable appetite.
Digging our incisors into each other’s flesh
And grazing our claws down one another’s backs.
We score each other’s bodies
With nips, kisses, and tongue
Demanding one to admit the others rule.
To surrender and go docile.
But we are two wolves
Fighting each other
Each step of the way
With unadulterated ravishment.
-ALC April 4, 2019
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 12:43 AM UTC
when women speak of eternity, my masculine immortality says: do i have to?! why? because my masculine mortality didn’t.
that a prophet’s nation is not without honour, but among the nation’s
ownership of itself in what’s being compared as nation-defining,
and thus dishonour with a nation’s history claiming more than
the nation’s honour in terms of taught examples lost
in emotion guaranteed by pride and jealousy,
so telling the history of poland
via the polish-lithuanian commonwealth
as defining poles...
nest well in a foreign tongue in order to keep your mother’s,
should your father’s execution of foreign tounging disgrace your mother...
but no talk of honour... should a nation’s honour be
defaced to localise individualism...
thus localise individualism and deface to entrust such a nation
with the concept of globalisation that f. d. r. could have oppossed
in the riddle of isolationalism that ended the great depression
and the phobia of the last years of misguided capitalism
carving the futurism of domestication of anything but the sexually adequate:
consciously-careful animalism of grunt and snorkle and bitten snouts
of the animalism correcting the 90 angle into 3.2 children multiplier
as perfected village people: 4kg of potato, 3 children, 2 pints of milk...
34 sundays kneeling in a church in aid of worship to dogmatise the pyramidal prism
as an aversion to staircases nonetheless climbed
to echo arthritis oiled for the perfected propaganda caste.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC
take money out of the equation, and sack all the waiters and return to tribalism, the former statement of non-intellectual socialism, the sort of inherent: in us there is a togetherness, no more service from strangers in the hierarchy of enriching a piece of metal or a wavy rectangle of paper with “necessary” symbolism of authority of the status quo... but that’s not going to happen... the pickpocket picts are no more... the normalising normans glared at the hastings pinnacle and integrated with the saxon women... the saracens became surnames in poland... actually that last one is very true... a branch of my family has the surname saracen.
so i’m reading this article
and i’m hardly debasing myself,
it’s not that i’m referring
to sartre’s negation of certain things
whether animate and essential or
inanimate and existential... in that formula:
i deny therefore i am... because i can’t deny my existence...
and 2000 years down the line i’ll be pitchfork
argument in an atheist’s mouth anyway (nothing is certain in the realm of cognition, hence the cartesian invocation of doubt),
it's not like i'm referring to inappropriate pronoun usage...
so **** a doodle do... twang the strings on the mandolin...
i’m referring to this classical reference of the shy literary figure
unable to spark conversation with strangers...
god, i really love strangers, and talking to them!
why? there is no personal history, there’s no past,
there are no reference points... it’s just the moment and nothing else,
the perfect anonymity project...
not the matrix philosophy (easily invoked because
it has a flimsy plot-line and loads of images...
just what the doctor ordered for the english speaking masses
with a very naked orthography - i.e. if it’s on the internet
it’s not “real life...” as is this computer i’m using
it’s not even here!)
of using the deep web to join the rats and etc.;
i love talking to strangers, i can forget myself
and enter the realm of discretion about how within randomisation
of eggshell, yoke and cockroach there’s also the randomisation
of the interactants to balance out the need for a theological unit, god...
it’s great... it’s like... it’s like... life.
defining the genre of biography proper? never backtrack...
always sidetrack... i can’t be bothered living a life with cocktail parties
and romps and romantic comedies to look forward to
once all the animalism becomes domesticated and a
gym-session complaints column in a newspaper.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 7:54 PM UTC
The sun will rise tomorrow with that pure orange that fills the sky at dawn and awakens the birds who chirp us into semi-consciousness
And I will turn in my bed to face the darkness and whisper that life is magnificent
I won't remember that when I wake up
But it’s the subconscious thoughts that really count when the world is falling apart
We might lose ourselves and succumb to animalism but deep down we will always be there,
and what is more perfect than an object constantly at risk for breaking
We are these objects
Look in the mirror and witness your perfection
See the hands of god that once shaped your face embracing you still
Realise that you are bruised flesh and broken bone always healing and always being hurt
When aliens invade they will watch old movies and witness the archetype of humanity in each of us
They will wonder why we label each other when we all breath the same air and therefore contain bits of each other
Look in the mirror and realize you have done bad things but the beauty of life is that change is inevitable
For the good or the better
And that God probably wonders sometimes why he bothered making us
Dec 10, 2013
Dec 10, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
Life is not in love
Not in responsibility
Not in relationship
Not in friendship
Not in family
Not in marriage
Not in happiness
Not in security
Not in religion
Not in superstition
Not in imagination
Not in participation
Not in dreaming
Not in fighting
Not in peace
Not in solitude
Not in hiding
Not in showing
Not in justice
Not in morals
Not in humanity
Not in animalism
Not in canibalism
Not in politics
Not in leaders
Not in higher powers
Not in systems
Not in categories
Not in schools
Not in intelligence
Not in ignorance
Not in societies
Not in countries
Not in space
Not in place
Not in truth
Not in knowing
Not in learning
Not in caring
Not in sharing
Not in appropriation
Not in accordance
Not in order
Not in chaos
Not in problems
Not in solutions
Not in greatness
Not in failure
Not in achievement
Not in employment
Not in popularity
Not in economics
Not in presidency
Not in parliament
Not in length
Not in quality
Not in interference
Not in significance
Not in growth
Not in similarities
Not in change
Not in purpose
Not in awareness
Not in beliefs
Not in trust
Not in killing
Not in saving
Not in treating
Nor in creating.
Life is in living
Life is only simply in existing.
It's the perfect way to do it.
Just to exist.
Facing no other outcome but death.
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 12:11 PM UTC
A colourful candy bar,
Giving her warm fuzzies,
An angelic face,
experiencing a heaven sent,
A devilish face nearby with a malicious grin,
Ribboning lust in his heart,
Stepping towards a room full of toys,
Winning the child with petrol soaked perks,
**** of the door clicked,
Curtains being dropped,
The laughters altered to screams,
As a new leaf is turned,
Rapacious hold on the wrists,
Making the angel to vociferate,
Filthy hands and animalism,
Staining an innocent soul,
Carnal thirst being satisfied,
By victimising a child by libido,
Walls of the room tainted with a secret,
Childhood squirming in the corner,
Star shell wishes turning into coal,
Angels mourning,
Dolls gulping their tears,
Teddy bear covering his eyes with dismay,
A bruised piece of flesh and blood,
Stabbed from pain,
Butterfly peeking from a window,
Loses the colours of its wings,
The earth trembles terrifically,
As the sky detaches a star ! ⭐️
~ Ayesha Nadeem
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
It was a mixed affair
of love and hate.
You are in deep water
to engage in a dialogue.
Almost farce was the
black ice. Animalism was the―
same. It was ******
in one form or the other.
The landscape would be
remembered for illicit violence.
The ****** sea hides the remains
of midair collision.
The purple men talk of
casualities in war times. The
relocation of peace march was
a big mistake. The vultures―
refuse to move from the trees.
Sep 27, 2016
Sep 27, 2016 at 12:28 AM UTC
It was not a rope.
O venomous reptile, I am not your man.
After a colossal fall, the poem bursts in a flame.
The border sun was very
shy. Something is missing in your eyes.
Animalism prevails. No human love.
A nameless pain speaks.
You want to carry all the pains of
humanity to the laughing Buddha?
Jan 5, 2024
Jan 5, 2024 at 8:51 PM UTC