"beatings" poems
My tiredness consumes me.
Im tired of life, of waking up and only finding disappointment.
Im not tired cause ima another lazy teen,
Im not tired because i was on my phone,
Im tired because my body is weak and broken from all the beatings its taken to this point.
My tiredness consumes me.
Aug 27, 2018
Aug 27, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
I am the rose that grew from concrete
Budded from stones, rocks, mortar, cement, broken glass, drug vials and bags.
I am a product of my environment.
What you thought would **** me,
Only served to make me stronger.
Evolved into a hybrid
I'm the only of my kind.
My thorns fortified with brass knuckles,
My color faded from weather beatings,
And all other beatings,
The travesty of my existence
is not lost on me.
Beauty in the midst of pain,
And what is the epitome of ugly.
I don't belong here and never did.
Wisdom I have absorbed
From rains never to come again
Rejuvenates my leaves.
Although I cannot absorb it all,
Through the cracks in the concrete.
I relish what I can
And vow to absorb more the next time,
Should I be so fortunate.
Because the concrete can protect
As well as expose my naivete.
So compelling to manipulate,
It would be ideal to control.
Impossible though.
How can you control
What grows and survives in the midst of chaos?
And at what cost to your soul?
Even through the ominous clouds,
I remain in light.
The Sun has never been immune to my plight.
Providing the strength, energy and hope
I'll need for the next season of my fight.
Mar 26, 2014
Mar 26, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
Running through the forest
Run, Run, Run
Jumping over fallen trees
One, by, One
Blood flowing to the ground
Through my Thumb
Running from the beatings
Run, Run, Run
Heart beating fast
*** *** BANG!
Heart no longer beating
*** *** BANG!
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
I always wondered why people judged others for their sexuality. Shouldn't love be just the words like "love is love". People should be able to express themselves thru words and actions. Sexuality is something others take for granted or even advantage of. If a guy comes out gay woman usually always say "the pretty boys are always the gay ones" or how men always come up to woman who are lesbian say "I can turn that girl straight in just one night". Or even hearing still to this day people are protesting on the street against gays and gay marriage. Today's society rather care bout brands, religion, race, and someone's sexuality rather than someone's cultural background and getting to know someone deep within. Teens who hide in the closet due to their families being against their sons or daughters for being gay become suicidal and the suicide percentages go up. People take deaths more serious than those who are a live and trying to make some of their selves. Rumors that are spread round by high school students bout someone's sexuality turns into harmful beatings, but the school system is too into themselves and care bout their job title rather than to take care of harassment and bullying. Celebrities who hide their sexuality then later come out are the talk of the town, then there is always that one person from paparazzi who screws with the news headline and puts lies into everyone in society and everyone believes what they see rather than to think outside the box that not everything they see online or TV is true. Parents who are gay are looked upon as to "who wears the pants" in the relationship, or "whose top", or even whose the "daddy or the mommy". Then the children who have gay parents become victims and are always assumed they are also gay too or just not normal in today's society. A lot of countries for example Russia abuses their laws against gays and soon enough fights and killings close to murders happen every minute of every second of every day. Even presidents in a lot of states and countries are against gays and try to pass laws made by the government which by then a lot more people hide behind closets. The world is more ******* up than people may think, if we just stick together and except people as they are then there would be equality.
Jan 13, 2018
Jan 13, 2018 at 3:51 AM UTC
*all my life i held a dream
of a woman i would love
of course
she would be alluring
supple
a charming countenance
erudite, with an angelic face
her body
a muscular stretching willow
arching her legs over head
kissing her own
curving soft feet
a graceful contortionist
in confetti colored sparkle pantyhose
stretching towards me
silken hair draping a perfect symmetry
with spun sugar kisses
wafting the scent of vanilla
and candied vaporous breath
lips like cherry lozenges
but
one never knows ones destiny
i met her
my girl destiny
and except for a faint look of languor and ruin
with a tinge of withering
she was without doubt unbearably titillating
with razor-thin blackened lips
mascara slits for eyes
hair pulled straight back
jet black
jelled like hardened licorice
with satanic blood rivulets
and pitch fork tattooed ****
a vice of lechery
a malefaction of moral turpitude
her *** scarred from orgiastic beatings
her **** became
like a large wrinkly mouth
resembling the face of a bullfrog
from pleasuring herself with
tableware cutlery
her soul
a broken creel
suffering bouts of anxiety
like a weeping moon
having been institutionalized
in Mother Marys Hell House
from a ghastly bout of parricide
her father,
a hobbling gloomish troll
while the dark veins of mother
ran through her soul
leaving little choice
but to dispatch
the parents
abandoning their corpses in the kitchen
like strewn litter
turned out
just my
kinda
girl
d
e
s
t
i
n
y
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 9:14 AM UTC
The darker side of my mind is where
Abstractions of fragmented poetry breeds;
A baby lies dead in a Hong Kong gutter,
And my lines fall into place.
Broken hearts sing lullabies to me,
Two savage beatings spare me a verse,
New Orleans lends me four at low interest,
And throws in a haiku for free.
The old veteran quotes me three lines
And gets buried with the last.
The rhyme festers with his body;
Both soldier
and verse
are
free
again.
I can't explain the beauty I see
In the dying faces of the abandoned ones,
Nor tell you why, if the bomb were dropped tomorrow
I should weep in both anguish and delight.
I can only tell you, should it all end,
Should all modern horrors dissapear,
The future will weep for the joys of the present
And smiles will dissapear forever
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 3:53 PM UTC
Depression, is a concession of unstable chemicals made from the memories of cruel intentions,
My life is still here plodding along..
But only I hear the sound of my own thoughts like an annoying repetitive song.
I hear that little voice, calm down it says! stop filling your stupid head,
with anxiety a lack of self motivation and such a thing as recreation, only self interrogation and constant ************
I think of ways of ending it.. A rope around my neck?... or a cocktail of prescribed drugs?
I try to find help but no one is willing or the nhs has started billing,
I blame society and the burning of the bras,
things were simpler with our evolutionary past.
Nothing is moving I am stuck,
I feel useless and out of so called ambitious luck.
My patience is wearing and poignant preparations, is it really that necessary?
I just can't be fckd!
Move on, try again and again.
Run away!...
But financially there is no escape!
The cruel beatings,
the childhood ruined by my selfish relatives and a man I fell pregnant with.
Take away the memories..
please take them away before I cry the tears from the river of blood and pain.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
The rabbit-tap tattoo beatings of our hearts,
They leave imprints on our chests
Our necks
The hollows of our hips.
The soprano pull off my breathing
And the forever-hold of your fingers,
It marks me,
A you-shaped tattoo in my heart.
Fingerprint bruises on my skin,
Scratches at the small of your back,
They are more permanent than ink,
More lasting than ink and more precious.
Alcohol hazes,
Smoke screens in our kisses,
Tumbled words and slurred laughter,
Our rabbit-tap tattoo hearts and our tangled-up legs,
The forever mark of our hushed hysteria,
It is more permanent than ink,
Cheap and wild and real.
A tattoo,
A stain of you and me
clinging to my skin
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 8:13 PM UTC
I see Beauty in a **********
Whose feelings you cannot convolute.
I see a Businesswoman in a **********
A **** with brains, destitute
she made a business plan.
At least she did business studies and
accounting at school, sells her body to earn,
A living.
I see a princess in a **********
because no man can resist her.
You know when she starts curling her hair
Even Pastors **********
then we bring the Saints Holiness into debate.
Have you ever seen a ********** aspirate
"I want you" ?
**** Her voice alone gives ****** healing,
Arouses ****** feelings,
Pumps vessels, frightened by the spark in her
eyes, hormone adrenalin give your heart rate a
fast accelerating beatings.
I see charisma in a **********
Married men,leave their wives in bed and
creep to the streets corner just to cuddle with
prostitutes, it was I who said, there's beauty in
a **********
I see Beauty in a **********
I've seen Loyalty in a **********
Yes I did. How? What do I mean?
Because she ***** all men in the same manner
and charge them all the identical amount.
That is Loyalty man.
I said, I see Beauty in a ********** and
I wasn't lying.
There is Beauty in a **********
The Beauty that makes Preachers at church
retire,
The Beauty that make married men divorce,
The Beauty that makes Jay Z forget Beyonce,
The Beauty that makes Julius Malema forgets
his political position
The Beauty that makes Jesus Christ want to
come back, to save his descendants from sin.
The Beauty of a **********
Men have seen it.
Aug 14, 2015
Aug 14, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
I must Confess,
I am Baring witness to the beautiful sight of your nakedness even though you are physically and completely dressed.
Its such a sight to behold as you bare the essence of your soul, revealing it uncovered and undressed
Now I have you right where i want you with Your heart under my arrest.
So come lay your Kingly crown upon my chest As I caress you with my love and tenderness.
Listen to the rhythm of heart beating like an African drum, *** pum pum pum pum.
Feel my Energy impermate your atmen flowing thru all of you, from me.
Here in this place is where we meet, its that place of serenity.
While you Delight in my words as they gently kiss your ears.
Let me Take my pencil and an Erase all your fears leaving behind not a single trace. Only a smile upon your face.
Allow me to take these soft delicate hands to massage the beatings your masculine stallion body you had endured today
each touch Is like fire to ice melting all of your stress away.
Now we can sit here in silence mediating thru out the day. King to Queen Nasmaste
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 7:31 PM UTC
You open to me
a little,
then grow afraid
and close again,
a small boy
fearing to be hurt,
a toe stubbed
in the dark,
a finger cut
on paper.
I think I am free
of fears,
enraptured, abandoned
to the call
of the Bacchae,
my own siren,
tied to my own
mast,
both Circe
and her swine.
But I too
am afraid:
I know where
life leads.
The impulse
to join,
to confess all,
is followed
by the impulse
to renounce,
and love--
imperishable love--
must die,
in order
to be reborn.
We come
to each other
tentatively,
veterans of other
wars,
divorce warrants
in our hands
which we would beat
into blossoms.
But blossoms
will not withstand
our beatings.
We come
to each other
with hope
in our hands--
the very thing
Pandora kept
in her casket
when all the ills
and woes of the world
escaped.
4.8k
Death doesn't discriminate
It doesn't see black or blue
But it sure as hell leaves a bruise.
Its punches and beatings repeating
On the news each evening
Until we're left bleeding,
Crying and pleading
For this to stop
Because this "news" is starting to get old.
Death is never satisfied;
It whispers its lies
That It is the answer to all your problems,
That your thirst for vengeance will subside
If you claim just one victim.
And when the blood is poured out
And as death sips its red ***
We are left awake in its wake
With a ticker-tape parade
Because of one vigilante's charades
of marching to the beat of his own drum.
But let us at least take note of that
before we vilify an entire people group
And start acting brash based on looks
whether it's skin color or uniform.
Death shows no discrimination, so neither should life
My life or your life; our lives are the life blood of this nation
So let's **** out discrimination
lest we bleed out from prejudiced incrimination.
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 7:29 PM UTC
Nobody knows the
the darker corners
of my decrepit soul,
a stale and stinky
nasty shrinking
***** of abstraction,
that is less than
a fraction
of nothingness,
a shadowy space
where people cringe
and strangers displace
their rage
till tension and resentment
fill this smelly place.
Nobody knows
that my heart
does not grow
but disposes
of the red roses,
dripping paint
of crimson pain,
beatings
taken in exchange
for struggles
and anguish,
pumping out plump
plumes of poetry
and prose
to express the truth,
that nobody knows.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
He took me by surprise,
and in a second I knew I was held,
captured,
only to be used,
I knew I could do nothing at all,
my feet were cold and his hands were armed,
he scratched me and molested me with all he had,
my neck was ****** and my heart went slow,
after having his fun,
he tightened his hold,
his work wasn't done until my body was sore,
he stomped me on the chest with his brand new boots,
hit my head and broke my arm with his beatings and his calm,
he wanted to see me dead now,
I gave him what he wanted,
as I could not move acted dead,
he left me dying told me his name was 'Angel',
my only company now was the silence of the trees,
*His name was Angel,
but evil were his deeds..*
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
I wanted to enlist as an army babe, but i can take-care-of-my-self,
stay healthy as a tree, no more frantic order's like "Smeeeaaaag?!?"
Just a girl who wanted to be a penguin and swim free,
of the trap of an incomplete mind.
Walls of neutral yellow and beige, as a
sunflower soaks the rays of,
seasonal depression;
lost in this endless sea of confusion.
Is there really dedication, reflects blue eyes of Lilies socket's,
does Eternity really exist?
As a blown kiss,
a wishing well
fish.
The heart is the only gate,
gushing feelings and
simple beatings,
masks this face of shy Grace.
As thundering pride takes over,
build a dynasty and touch the heavens,
Lifted,
as dove on wings, crowned in Gold,
I've found the Soul.
In the lake this treasure keeps
as a door swings open,
step'n on through to morning.
Finding super power's at twilight daze,
****** onto the writer's play.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 3:39 PM UTC
Broke the straw across her back,
so she snapped, never turning back
Bruised her arm by joking accident
with all the malice of death’s intent.
No natural love or paternal instinct
to catch
the tears she’s choked
with your hands on her throat.
Touch her again and the demons will get you
tell her to end herself before you do;
and the death you deserve will befall you
slow, alone and barren.
Better to have left long ago or
confronted your own lineage-issued father and
let yourself be disowned
than be the ******* you are.
Leave her be
middle child,
second accident
of the disappointing gender.
How dare you lay a finger on an innocent child?
You’ll never be absolved in anyone’s eyes.
Raised by fools, you’ve ruined your gift.
The daughter you never wanted
may never say it,
but will grow up to spite you.
Suffer like she does.
She’s been soaking it up now
for a while
but the blood flow continues
from deep wells of wounds.
She can’t take this load anymore
the people she carries
don’t love her and she’s
parched but still going.
Surviving on a lump in her throat
as she’s dragged through sandstorms and beatings.
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 5:31 PM UTC
an average human creature should such a mythical exist
in a lifetime will celebrate about 2,200,000,000 heartbeats,
billions of heartbeats per minute (I prefer moment)
but like everything so essence human there are
those very few heartbeat moments,
the ten or twenty maybe forty total in a lifetime
that you total truly remember,
recalling the cream and sauce,
swell and the hell,
of the pounding so slow so hard,
each one a volcano of
a moment until that day
you don't remember-anything
when she said yes and you're shaking and beating in a
honky-tonk rhythm cause you were heart undressed unsure
and truly afraid of a rejection that makes a heart stoppage
disallowing visions, to be exponentially happy future imagined
you're feeling your heartbeat
in your knees going weak,
when the doctor says:
congratulations healthy swell
and/or
some years later,
I'm so so truly sorry, hell
when they hand you a long handle shovel no instructions needed and that scoop of earth weighs two tons and the sound of slow reverb in your head hurts like hell and you lack the strength to move and they move you aside quiet gentle like
but inside the temple of the two headed hydra-heart,
it's the rock and roll of slo mo, the violin crying, the drumming of
heavy metal chords plucked so slowly, it's you froze screaming
a billionaire of heartbeats you are,
but only ten or twenty maybe forty total in a lifetime
you total truly remember with the perfect clarity and
forever renders into your own unique orchestral symphony,
your true net worth, the stripes you wear
upon your shoulders skin,
the tune when you hear it and melts you into rigidity
you fall to your knees wherever you are,
that is where you will find me,
just listen for the cars horns blaring
cursing the man lying in the street, re-listening to
ten or twenty maybe forty heartbeats total in a lifetime
you alone total truly that concert set recall and
the win-loss record inherent, inhiment,
in both of them, tears and the rents, all there in the tunes,
of forty beatings you took,
somehow it feels like here is, there was,
the answers to
where is shelter for the heart,
the answers that have gone and come and gone and someone says,
I don't feel a pulse
Oct 25, 2017
Oct 25, 2017 at 2:55 PM UTC
she sat on a driftwood throne
at her feet lay the ruins of a stone man
her hair a wild world of winds draws you into her hurricane eyes
her lip a forest of meanings tender and soft
a single loose tear like a wild horse run free
she sat on a driftwood throne in all her glory
sun and salt water cadence to the living breathing dream
song of existence untainted
and now another song intrudes
one of loves lionhearted and bold
seafarer's son come of age
come seeking courtship of her soft hand
to be bound in the silken desire's both hot and sweet
and the dark ones such shy girl dare not speak
he brushes away the sand from her soft thigh
and within his mind romances such sweet
tender spot with a reign of kisses
but just then she arose graceful like the soft beatings of dove's wing
and emerging from the veil of his minds fanciful dreams
she laid before him her sandpaper eyes
so intense that summer sounds
like children at play and such soothing tones
could not hide her behind
he withdraws still no more than a child in her eyes
she desires a stronger, a true love
one that is not a fleeting fancy dream
one of a man who can speak his heart
the sand had invaded her driftwood throne
so into the dusk she sauntered slowly
with graceful flow
trailing his eyes behind her like glories of wishes
like worshiping doves
for such beauties perfection
he will return some day a man
once he has learned
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
Safe from stormy icy cold
from stars sheltered too below
a wish I am
to my captive be
all this thou provideth me
The ice breaker tows us in
sweet lies lavished
beneath our skin
mothered
fathered
dear!!!
Dear ravaged
bitter sweet
lovingly deceived
tucked into sheets
from teddy bear
to milky squeezed
thigh soothing
the life that's oozing
**** a doodle
screeching out in fright
of little egg
earnest yearning
heeding calling
of thee other will
spontaneity
river spawning
No time for times sake
Not a one
would be
mistaken
Only the shrunken
fear forsaking
Run hare run
way out
out
beyond sight
of the knowing
knowing though
scent lingers
in the nose
of the tortoise
and tortoises
whom are stalking
Run run
has gotten far
hid from heaven
spinning faulty
stars heathen
tales of yore
which simply
just keep moving
But delight
is
a wedding cake
in a heart
you can see
taste
taste the spin
of spinning me
Dance too
to the rhythms
and beatings
of sticks
****** quick
to the depths
of your last breath
of the last breathing
Our hearts
the rhythm
Ones soul
The beating
of skin
On our drums
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 11:05 AM UTC
Who knew that slavery
was just the corner
of an odd shape
and that a few hundred years
of forced labor beatings
would prepare a people
for generations of fatherlessness
clashes with authority
the lashes on their backs
set many free from the morality
of obeying the laws of
"just" society
and with the banks filled
with whip lash deposits
they were well prepared
to go a few hundred years
without the guidance of fathers
them who stayed locked up
cages and chains for shacks and chains
http://kinyopoetry.com/
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 11:42 AM UTC
and were the ears so pleased when:
the iciclic needles dug into our skins,
fleshy cloths that, sewn together,
made the mask to hide the whole.
we wore them like the cheapest of trophies,
the basest of glories and the simplest of stories.
we wore them to contrast to the whiteness of space,
the empty black white gray of life's living littleness
with the reddened hardwork of claymade shells.
they glowed with the rusty red of millions of faces
free to make their mark as they see best fit.
we had found these skins
forgotten on the floor,
and so we picked them up
with our biglittle hands
and opened the door
to newmade makings and
brand new beings.
it was empty within us--
the beings of old
and the yearnings of yore
had retreated far beneath the surface,
burrowed deep below mountains and meadows and
hills pushed up like sand in a box,
crushed against the sides of our enclosure.
it was silent within us--
the screech-making moon
sang in time to chest-beatings
and the barking of stray dogs;
the melody of moments lost in time.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:26 PM UTC
The Gentle Pads Of My Finger Tips Are Frigid,
The Skin Under The Lip Of My Shoe Is Raw And Worn,
From All The Cautious Steps I've Taken,
The Leafy Green Of My Tired Eyes Is Dulled,
From Hours Of The Presence Of Vision,
The Fraile Glass Windows Are Frosted Over,
Crystallized Molecules Whisper To The Half Moon,
My Heart In A REM State Of Mind,
From All Of It's Beatings,
And The Color Which I Portray Is Black,
Because It Is The Absortion Of The Artist's Pallette
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 8:36 AM UTC
We are groups of people
made to hate
because of who we love
not what we stand for.
Did no one listen to
your parents?
You treat others how you want to be treated
not
throwing beer bottles
and whining when it misses their head
not
coming at them with a knife
because a man is holding a man's hand.
We are taught as kids
being gay isn't okay.
You could be a murderer
but you can't love another man.
Why?
Why
can't I love who I love.
People would rather
have a man dying alone
in the hospital
because his boyfriend of 35 years
isn't his husband
than letting love flourish.
People would rather **** us off
than understand.
People would have broken homes
where kids come home to beatings
their head shoved in an oven
*****
molested
beaten to a pulp
cigars burned out on their arms
and hit with beer bottles to
the point of being broken
than to let a happily loving couple of two men
to have that child.
They would rather see
a red sea of bodies
than to allow us
to live.
People would rather say
******
"fruitcake"
***
"fairy"
and watch their child slit his wrist
for every time he looks at a man
and feels a twinge of love
than to let him be happy.
They would rather torcher and torment children to the point
of mental breakdowns
rushing blood
soar throats
living alone
on the streets
no love
pretending.
Than to let them be them.
People love purple
that it means freedom
but I like the rainbow.
Rainbows have a million colours
and not one colour is quite the same hue.
No one hates rainbows
or the gorgeous colours it has.
Not many notice the differences
of them so,
why can't everyone
treat other people
like we're rainbows?
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC
Overcame just about everything in life
Mothers death was the first
Raising five younger siblings
Clothing Bathing Cooking and so much more
With God I stood strong. I was only 10 years old.
Fathers abuse was second
He really showed me what wasn't love but I felt in my heart I was showing grace by understanding his frustration over his deceased wife.
The beatings (Slaps Kicks Punches Abandonment). The Blood. The sadness.
His loud threats. Words that were mistreating. The pain.
Yet I love this man but can't find respect for him.
Relationships
Started off as not caring for nobody.
As I matured into this woman I started to want this thing called Love.
I was afraid because I felt I didn't know how.
Come to find, that I love and love well but I'm receiving a cycle of being mistreated..
I'm still standing Strong
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 7:13 AM UTC