"appalled" poems
She was not just "asking for it"
Her skirt showing her long limbs
She is not one to submit
Or to give up when told to quit
She will not stand for your catcall
For your whistle and "hey there, doll"
You should not be appalled
Because she really can rule it all
She is fierce and she is true
She's neither higher nor lower, but she is equal to you
Her body is not just something you can tear down and *****
So, pack your things and say adieu
She is feminine
As well as pure adrenaline
Cease to examine this "specimen"
And become a true gentleman
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 3:23 PM UTC
Day 1: I want to tear my skin off. My heart is beating so fast i can barley breathe. I feel so filthy.
Day 2: I can't believe this. I don't want to be here. Why did this happen? Why did I let this happen?
Day 5: I guess I drank too much and my friends were to drunk to stop me.
Day 10: I can't face my friends, I can't live my life.
Week 3: No one knows. He hasn't said a word.
Week 6: It happened again, I was sleeping and he did it again. Why did I stay the night? Why didn't I go straight home?
Week 7: He left and kissed me goodbye. I don't know how to feel.
Week 10: My life's out of control, I can't believe whats happening.
Month 5: My boyfriend knows. But not all details. Just thinking about it, makes me want to take a shower.
Month 8: I finally came clean to my friends. They're appalled. They hate him now. I still feel filthy. I can't get his smell off my body still.
Month 11: The anniversary is soon. What am I going to do?
Year 1: I haven't spoken to him in months. I haven't thought about it in days. I still feel as if hes on top of me, why can't I wash him away?
Its an uphill battle with myself and others. Some days I can't get out of bed or even feel like breathing.
But I try not to let him get to me. Because if he sees my weakness from what hes done,
He's won.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
When you told me I was doing great for a woman my size, I passed you off and told myself that "compliment" had good intentions.
When you called me sweet cheeks I ignored you. A woman like me is used to men like you.
When you told me the stair master made my *** look bangin, I was both honored and appalled. My *** may be my greatest feature but ****** comments have their place and the gym is not one of them.
When you asked me for my number, you were rude, acting in a way in which no gentleman should act. I told you no. And I meant no.
When you called me a ***** loud enough for the whole gym to hear, you were only making yourself look bad.
When you came up and wrapped your arm around my shoulder and told me you were going to take me out for a good time on friday night, I was terrified and suddenly praying for a **** whistle.
When you insisted I promptly informed you I was lesbian, and to let you down gently, not my type.
When you called me a **** I took no offense, that word has become meaningless. Then you told me it must be a phase, that I just hadn't been with a man like you. That you could change me.
When you said "hop on this **** **** I was done with your games. I pushed you aside and when you ****** my shoulder back you were the one to end up with their *** on the ground.
Dear namless man at the gym,
When you said you could help me through my phase, you were wrong. Being gay is not my phase. Being straight was.
Feb 17, 2016
Feb 17, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC
Now
I swear to ya
This is a TRUE STORY!
(At least as I heard it)
••••
There was this girl and man was she in love!
BUT
Then one day her LOVER says to her
LOOK
I KNOW YA LOVE ME BUT I GOTTA TELL YA
IM NOT AS I SEEM
I SEEM TO YOU AS A MAN
IM NOT!
DEEP DOWN INSIDE I KNOW MYSELF AS A WOMAN
AND IM GONNA HAVE A *** CHANGE OPERATION
TO MAKE MYSELF AS I REALLY AM
••
Well
She was appalled
(To say the least!)
••
She thought
ALL THIS TIME I'VE BEEN MAKING LOVE TO ANOTHER WOMAN!
AND IT DID NOT BOTHER ME!
I MUST BE A LESBIAN!
This thought didn't bother her
It was the fear of being exposed as one
Of coming out of the closet
That frightened her
She thought
WAIT!
I GOT IT!
I TOO WILL HAVE A *** CHANGE OPERATION!
THEN MY MAN BODY CAN MAKE LOVE TO A WOMAN
AND NO ONE WILL FIND IT STRANGE !
and this she did
Some time later she met this woman who she was very much attracted to
After some time
She found herself together with this other at her apartment
And after some groping around they were standing there naked
And it turned out the the other was a actually a man in drag
A
Cross dresser I believe they are called
Again
She was appalled
She accused this person of deceiving her
This person said
NAY NOT SO!
I KNEW YOU WERE A WOMAN IN A MALE BODY
(JUST LIKE ME!)
FOR I AM A WOMAN
STUCK IN THIS BODY TIL I HAVE A *** CHANGE OPERATION!
SO
WE CAN HAVE A TRUE LESBIAN RELATIONSHIP
EVEN THOUGH IT IS THROUGH MALE BODIES
THAT THIS TAKES PLACE
THE BODIES ARE JUST BODIES BUT IT SHALL BE OUR TRUE SOULS WHICH MATE
Now
She
(The original she)
Was mighty confused
For there was many an implication
Dangling there
And she didn't know if she should be believing what was said to her
••
Now of course
Some a you out there might be sayin the same thing
--
But it's the truth
It's a true story
Just like I said
I mean
It's truly the story that I heard
Nov 4, 2013
Nov 4, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
Don’t read this if you’re squeamish,
Or if you’re eating food at the present,
Since some of the subjects discussed in this poem,
Are let’s just say rather unpleasant,
On the subject of donating organs,
Or the subject of organs at all,
It’s not unusual for my claims to leave,
Some subjects feeling pretty appalled,
Now I’d say that most people die,
In fact I’d vouch that it happens quite often,
But when my time comes, set has my sun,
I want all of me in that coffin,
Now I get it, I’d save lives if I donated,
And I don’t mean to sound like a **** (yes I do),
But the unmissable flaw, the foot in the door,
Is that not all of my parts seem to work,
My eyes are screwy, my heart’s far too cold,
The state of my lungs’ll make you shiver,
My kidneys too small, I'm not sure I have a pancreas,
And don’t get me started on my liver,
And let me tell you with a face like mine,
Not showcasing this beauty’s a sin,
But it’s awfully hard to have an open casket,
If I’m not sporting any of my skin
It’s selfish and weird I know that,
But my eyes are where my soul is exposed!
…Yeah actually my soul’s pretty tainted,
Can someone make sure that my eyes are closed?
I only want those I love to have a part of me,
So if I’m forced, if I’m forced, to partake,
-
-
-
They’ll be frying up my organs,
For refreshments at my wake.
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 3:22 PM UTC
Tipping point reached, one final breath
Let the waves of inertia crash, contaminate
....
Alone in complexity, machinery, and everything
Perfectly formed human being
Slowly turning sour by the minute
Stale air, only growing in its bitter taste as
Seconds that feel like hours, add to feel like years
All the plans i made
All the plans i planned to make
Gone, but not forgotten
But then they were gone
Truer statement never read then
What i read on the back of the final bit found
Within my reach
Filtered through a layer of sediment
settled over my vision
Sanitized as life had been
But my shelter having been breached
To seep much longer...
Too accustomed, but it doesn't help
Found lacking in the company I had hoped to keep
A poor atonement, sinking further
Or, it kept rising
I was nearly covered.
.....
They stepped a little closer
And left appalled by what they found
Rotting in the dark, silently
Defensive at the outset, shaking at the sound
Sounding incomplete
Face down this
Eventual ending
For me
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 5:12 AM UTC
21st century slavery: Shayn Powell
Take a look around,
It’s 2018.
What do you see?
Everything looks fine,
People striding in glee?
Look hard for it may
Be a mystery,
That we’re living through
21st century slavery.
We claim these are
The lands of the free.
It’s a fib, that’s not at
All what it seems.
Because if it were
the land of the free
than Martin Luther King may
never have had his dream.
There wouldn’t have
Been a march for
Freedom in 1963.
And Mr King wouldn’t
Have lost his life
For standing up in
What everyone
Should've believed.
Take a look around,
It’s 2018.
What do you see?
Everything looks fine,
People striding in glee?
Look hard for it may
Be a mystery,
That were living through
21st century slavery.
America, “land of the free”
Were fine we claim,
living in prosperity.
“Everyone’s equal”,
You’ve heard it too, How silly
Don’t you agree?
My best friend
Rolled his window up
when he saw a policeman.
It’s sad, But this is the
reality we live in.
“We’re equal” but we
Strip kids from their dreams
Because they were brought here
Against their will illegally.
Have some leniency,
Then again you’re
changing their scenery.
How can you do that
So easily?
And what’s this ****
we learned in history?
Jim Crow laws?
Thank god those are gone.
Or so we thought
You’re not sneaky America,
Mass incarceration is
Nothing but a plot
For a group of minorities
To be 2nd class citizens
To us all.
That’s evil that should leave
everyone appalled.
It’s time for a call
For action.
All this arrogance
Has left us distracted
From what our nation
claims to practice.
Because
Take a look around,
It’s 2018.
What do you see?
Everything’s NOT fine,
People AREN'T striding in glee.
Really look for it’s
Not hard to see
That were living through
21st century slavery.
Yours truly,
That worried white kid
Who lives in a society
That’s unruly.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 10:17 PM UTC
A powerful euphoric sensation rushes to my brain when I inhale the crack ******* leaving me appalled for twenty one seconds to contemplate a super rush of dopamine into my central nervous system that hits me immediately an intense pleasant sensation is felt with a overly joyful feeling. The rush lasts about 2-5 minutes then slowly begins to come down I start to feel a slight paranoia then an uncomfortable feeling sets in midway to the euphoric high and after 10 minute mark I start to crave to repeat the powerful high. Like a thunderbolt energizing my whole body and rushing thoughts come crashing down at the 15 minute mark I begin to feel unsatisfied with myself wanting to repeat the vicious cycle all over again. Once I hit 20 minutes I feel like a cheap ***** who's been used and abused by the drug itself and this feeling of restlessness and dysphoria sets in leaving me once again alone and feeling slightly discontent. **** where can I get more hard again and there I once again start talking to myself creating fictitious illments and materializing maladies. That is chasing the Great White Dragon in a state of misery and despair. I was hooked but now am healed thru the 12 steps and the Grace of Almighty God. I am now 40 days clean and sober...I am sincere and certain not to pick up this again for if I do I'll will ruin my life or better yet put me in a casket. By the Grace of Adonai I praise thee for saving this wretched addict. Now and forevermore in debt with the Lord. Amen!
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 1:26 AM UTC
*You're made up of layers
more than a hundred of them
but when you peel a few
they thought they already know you
impressed, appalled to see you
baring your soul, opening yourself
and you find it funny
and you find it kinda sad
because to you it's nothing
like a small scratch on a surface
nothing but just a few layers off
and you have a hundred more to go.*
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 12:26 PM UTC
512
The Soul has Bandaged moments—
When too appalled to stir—
She feels some ghastly Fright come up
And stop to look at her—
Salute her—with long fingers—
Caress her freezing hair—
Sip, Goblin, from the very lips
The Lover—hovered—o’er—
Unworthy, that a thought so mean
Accost a Theme—so—fair—
The soul has moments of Escape—
When bursting all the doors—
She dances like a Bomb, abroad,
And swings upon the Hours,
As do the Bee—delirious borne—
Long Dungeoned from his Rose—
Touch Liberty—then know no more,
But Noon, and Paradise—
The Soul’s retaken moments—
When, Felon led along,
With shackles on the plumed feet,
And staples, in the Song,
The Horror welcomes her, again,
These, are not brayed of Tongue—
3.8k
Maveric Prowles
Had Rumbling Bowles
That thundered in the night.
It shook the bedrooms all around
And gave the folks a fright.
The doctor called;
He was appalled
When through his stethoscope
He heard the sound of a baying hound,
And the acrid smell of smoke.
Was there a cure?
'The higher the fewer'
The learned doctor said,
Then turned poor Maveric inside out
And stood him on his head.
'Just as I though
You've been and caught
An Asiatic flu -
You musn't go near dogs I fear
Unless they come near you.'
Poor Maveric cried.
He went cross-eyed,
His legs went green and blue.
The doctor hit him with a club
And charged him one and two.
And so my friend
This is the end,
A warning to the few:
Stay clear of doctors to the end
Or they'll get rid of you.
3.2k
i wrote poetry
he partied
i would overthink
he would oversleep
too lost within the oblivion
of trying to numb away
life
while i was here
thinking about "life" too much
writing about it too much
i enjoyed wine
on a quiet Tuesday evening
he enjoyed liquor
on a wild Friday night
surely
truly
love does attract
"opposites"
i loved him
and he loved me
but he didn't want to live
life
and i
wanted to write about it
we're sitting
in a ***** garage
blasting music
with lyrics
that i am so appalled by
this is his life
this is
it isn't mine
i am
the quiet
Tuesday afternoon girl
who writes her words
to figure out
life
while he is trying
to forget about his
on a Friday night
these lifestyles
we tried to clash
for far too long
so sadly
too long
i left
with love still
beating inside of my heart
because you could never
love me
the way you love
your Friday nights
like you couldn't love
my Tuesday evenings
love is so
crafty
and deceiving
it brought us to meet
we both understood
that life is sad
yet only i
could see its beauty
and our lifestyles
were too different
to sustain the life
for one another
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 12:34 AM UTC
Dans le fond des forêts votre image me suit.
RACINE
There is a panther stalks me down:
One day I'll have my death of him;
His greed has set the woods aflame,
He prowls more lordly than the sun.
Most soft, most suavely glides that step,
Advancing always at my back;
From gaunt hemlock, rooks croak havoc:
The hunt is on, and sprung the trap.
Flayed by thorns I trek the rocks,
Haggard through the hot white noon.
Along red network of his veins
What fires run, what craving wakes?
Insatiate, he ransacks the land
Condemned by our ancestral fault,
Crying: blood, let blood be spilt;
Meat must glut his mouth's raw wound.
Keen the rending teeth and sweet
The singeing fury of his fur;
His kisses parch, each paw's a briar,
Doom consummates that appetite.
In the wake of this fierce cat,
Kindled like torches for his joy,
Charred and ravened women lie,
Become his starving body's bait.
Now hills hatch menace, spawning shade;
Midnight cloaks the sultry grove;
The black marauder, hauled by love
On fluent haunches, keeps my speed.
Behind snarled thickets of my eyes
Lurks the lithe one; in dreams' ambush
Bright those claws that mar the flesh
And hungry, hungry, those taut thighs.
His ardor snares me, lights the trees,
And I run flaring in my skin;
What lull, what cool can lap me in
When burns and brands that yellow gaze?
I hurl my heart to halt his pace,
To quench his thirst I squander blook;
He eats, and still his need seeks food,
Compels a total sacrifice.
His voice waylays me, spells a trance,
The gutted forest falls to ash;
Appalled by secret want, I rush
From such assault of radiance.
Entering the tower of my fears,
I shut my doors on that dark guilt,
I bolt the door, each door I bolt.
Blood quickens, gonging in my ears:
The panther's tread is on the stairs,
Coming up and up the stairs.
3k
A girl that would,
a girl that just couldn't,
mean nothing to me,
but the other that wouldn't?
Or rather,
she shouldn't,
she's taken,
she wouldn't.
A heart made of gold,
I love her,
she's prudent.
The girl that just couldn't,
it's not that she wouldn't,
one side can hide
but the other?
That couldn't.
I still made her moan,
and shuffle,
and tense,
no less to atone
for the mess;
not alone.
And the girl that would?
She's taken,
I shouldn't.
It's not that I wouldn't,
but hell I just couldn't.
Because the other that wouldn't,
was with me,
each time,
and I love her.
And maybe it's worth it,
when later,
both lovesick,
I heard her admit,
that she might love me too.
She couldn't decide,
when her eye met with mine,
to abide moral side
or give in,
and confide.
In a sicken love feeling,
disgusting,
appalled,
to think to give up,
to consider a fold,
because you might love me too.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 8:39 AM UTC
Shocked and appalled to discover the truth -
an adult man who’s always looking at youth;
admiring pictures of girls who are too young,
I feel like this man should be shot at or hung.
We all have preferences and to each their own,
but the law states a person must be full-grown
before you start creeping pics on your phone
otherwise it’s in jail your *** will be thrown.
These girls seem to have zero self-respect
or don’t think about gross men getting *****
at images of their various juvenile parts,
either way, these young girls have no smarts.
I’m sad to say, I thought I knew this man well,
only to discover that he is sickening as Hell.
I’m glad to say, though, that at least I’m aware,
because I’ll do all I can to stop it; I swear.
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 3:11 PM UTC
My heart is so heavy over losing you
I have not been able to make sense of this
I just know that this is all wrong
My existence craves you like no other, and to think I might have lost you
Is grievous
I am completely and utterly lost
I am open bare as each day passes and with you I have lose myself whole
I am filled with insurmountable grief
Over you…over us
I clutch to my very bed you stray so far away from
I have woken up dismayed
plagued by homesickness in my very home
I am turning on myself over the loss of you
My heart is no longer my own
Appalled and vengeful over my soul
Every beat of my heart belongs to you as if you were the very essence that gives life to my being
My heart is with you
In your name, blazing full of you
And I too, my love
Oct 2, 2023
Oct 2, 2023 at 10:33 PM UTC
These demons in my head
Are no less real than the
Pills in my hand
Laced in glossy white
And pink
A heavy dose of
Dreams
What's the diagnosis
Besides my obvious
Inability to sleep?
Maybe I am allergic
To these bright lights
Strung around the world
In little clusters
Maybe I am repulsed
By the faint smell of
Pine diffusing off
Her clothes
Maybe I am appalled
At the thought of
Sugar plums twirling
In my ****** up head
While I try to rest
On the stone cold floor
I have a case of hate
A disease completely
Impossible to escape
Jolly is not a word
To me
Anymore
December, December
The way you make my
Pale lips shiver
In the frosty air
The way you make
The green grass crunch
Under my cut up
Feet
I think I may have
Loved you once
Many moons ago
Back when that
Fat guy with the beard
Was real
But now things are
Different
You make my nose
Glow red
And my skin
Dry up in flakes
And I swear,
Miss December
You are ruining
Every second of
Every day
Because it's so much easier
To place the blame
On someone who isn't
Exactly real
Now, back to the pills
Down they go
Along with my words
Along with the poem
Goodnight,
Miss December
I pray to wake in
January's light.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
wallowing in myself
the rain stops outside
been at it for days.
I walk
to my bathroom everytime
and everytime
the tarantula creeps or darts from
under the toilet seat
and then his little brother from out
the sink drain; I'm on the crazy train now
appalled, I die back into my room
It's raining again.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 8:35 PM UTC
"PuppyCat"
By Arcassin Burnham
Magic letters,
To the soul,
Once it sparkles,
Then behold,
I need noones everlasting help,
But yours,
Are you a cat?,
Maybe a dog?,
Letting all your memories become victims,
Of smog,
Then turn into a blank Requiem,
It goes to show I'm so appalled,
I guess you'd never thought I'd with chocolate covered strawberry blogs,
Can't look for proper income,
Than you better get a job,
Can't ever get one,
So you worship bones and skulls,
May I say more about you overreact,
Better keep the faith and love in puppycat.
"Chandelier"
By Arcassin Burnham
We won't be the only two hanging here,
Blinded by the light,
We should make it last while we still have our dignity,
I hope you're not too into me,
Cause in a distant memory,
I see clarity,
Couple drinks in my system,
And the remedies,
I just hope you're not too into me,
Another line sniffed,
So we're in another place,
Let this not be a penalty,
I hope you're not into me,
Still hangin.
Mar 3, 2015
Mar 3, 2015 at 2:01 AM UTC
For every dream you held
Bite once the metal rod
For every life believing what you said
Tighten it
Tighten the screws to your head
For every night you slept
Soundly, oblivious
For every light you didn't know you held
Tighten it
Tighten the noose to your neck
If you dream
Past this point
No solace lies
See the face
Of honor
Twist into a knife
Incision
Precision
The external
Infernal force
Will leave you empty
Innards on the asphalt
Appalled and
Bleeding on the fault line
All night
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
Squint scurried.
From rooftop to rooftop,
He skipped and he flipped as he
Scrambled amongst the tiles,
The blur of slate was his domain,
As, through the haze of reckless speed,
The slowly revolving City
Did imprint upon his vision.
So that as his sly lids descended
Its outline he admired;
Its screaming centre he desired.
In the end even Squint cannot run forever.
So he will slow, and shade his eyes,
Catch his breath and gaze and sigh.
And when he’s had his fill of the sights and the smog.
Down he slides amongst the pipes
Of better folk; of harder folk,
Of those with Proper Names
Like ‘Welder’ and ‘Melder’
And ‘Roland’ and ‘Fairer’.
Names that came after a ‘Mr’,
A ‘Lord’ or a ‘Sister’.
Names that one Day he would have for his Own.
For in the Glass City, Names were always changin’ hands.
Squint.
Not much of a Name,
Even for one so young as he
It would seem he would deserve
A Name of much more worth
Than simple, humble ‘Squint’.
But Squint lived up to his Name.
He may look young and full of fun,
But crouch on a wall and you might just
Be appalled to see that not a moment after
Squint is left alone, his eyes will glitter.
And if any Man’s flesh could ever express such malicious scheming,
It was the writhing face of our humble Squint,
Once his eyeballs set to gleaming.
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC