"bedevilled" poems
He thwack no metronome to kick oneself
Thwack his **** sucker
With his monolithic flaccid trunk rubber
Me and my Dalek doped
And my excrement unsweetened
Copulate in the open without my jockstrap
You shat encrusted to what you deflowered
So at arm’s length ****** from all that we excreted in the wind’s eye
And I bounce a bedevilled backwash
My incredibles are shafted
I’ll **** **** to Arab
We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You **** posterior to her
And I **** **** to…
I **** **** to myself
I ****** you powerfully
The body beautiful’s not enough to go round
You enjoy spanking and I wallow in *********
And ***** is like a tobacco teabag
And I’m a bijou **** coming the corsets in custody
We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You **** posterior to her
And I **** **** to…
Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab, Arab
I **** **** to…
I **** **** to…
We only jabbered hasta la vista amongst homophones
I croaked a hundredweight arsonists
You **** **** to her
And I **** **** to Arab
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 4:34 PM UTC
**Society, the embodiment of human securities
Is in reality the stark confirmation
Of a conglomerate of screaming insecurities
Begging….its leaders….fervent introspection **
*Bending logic is an art perfected by all
Regardless of creed class or stature
No wonder the walk is seemingly a hard laboured crawl
Culminating into deep exposed…psychological sutures*
**Beings are bedevilled by a roving myopia
Craving a farfetched grandiose utopia
That’s why a bespectacled cynicism
Is ironically of essence…to neutralise a deep rooted parochialism**
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
You felt a Monster
when your Hamster Wolverine died
Did that almost turn your head to Sylvia Plath
Yet you are decidedly amongst the living
and should never pilgrim with Mannequins
When Life's bedevilled by doubt
can your wise friend find rhyme with you
perhaps to Scarborough and back again
on some weekend decider.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
Obsession, you’re my ***** word
my secret, wanton lust
for I can think of no-one else
to have you, oh! I must.
But when satiated
shaken to my core
obsession ups and leaves me
I don’t want you anymore.
So, call me fickle, darlin’
just as you always do
I’m not fickle, just bedevilled
occasionally by you.
Though, you ain’t my only hang up
don’t go thinking that you are
I’ve a lifetime of obsessions
and you’re not the best, by far.
Not all are made of flesh and bone
some have no soul at all
but I host their hauntings just the same
always at their beck and call.
I’m helpless to their honeyed charms
so easily am I led
take me by the hand, my love,
keep my obsession fed.
Come, wrap me in your many limbs
pour your magic in my ear
captivate, infatuate
for as long as I am here.
Then I twist my form unshackled
alight and fade away
and you must wait, unknowing,
for only time can say.
If I shall visit you again
one small fancy of my flights
but keep my name upon your lips
‘til my next obsession strikes.
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 10:03 AM UTC
All I have had, the raven
Killing and blinding my eyes with tears,
My life, in a foolish endeavour
Trying to reinvent what was already lost.
Every waking moment,
I recognize nothing but pain;
I was dissevered by the trails of your fantasies
So, I surrendered deciphering the truth of truths,
Was bedevilled by the questions
My mind could not unravel the answer,
Jar your memory, even for a while;
For you to remember, I am becoming broken too.
And you shall fear not I, to cry,
If memories were left in morbid melancholy;
But fear, if in that heaven of smiles,
I might found a bird beneath my miseries;
Whom my heart would suffice the skies above
And will hunt for the love I once succumbed.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 10:41 AM UTC
*Your words on my palm
As I succumb to your spell.
"Let the pain fester"*
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:31 PM UTC
Fathers
With girl daughters
Fathers
With boy sons
Fathers who strive
Fathers who thrive
Fathers
With without families
Fathers
who do what they have to do
For their girl daughters
For their boy sons
Who need presence
Who stomach absence
Fathers who want to be home enough but are not home enough,
in the evenings
Fathers who
have to make a conscious
decision: succeed or fail
Who bought mufflers so
Their girl daughters and
Boy sons could done jackets
Who freeze
So their families wouldn't get a frostbite
Fathers who stopped everything
To give everything
Fathers who lost to gain
Fathers who cry
Fathers who return
No words spoken
everything said
Fathers who did not return, physically,
but were received
Folded flags,
Where no words were spoken
but everything was said
Fathers
Whose stories have never been told
Yet be told
Fathers who serve
So their girl daughters and
Boy sons could sleep and purr
Fathers who bind broken limbs
Fathers who accomplish one
To be bedevilled by two
Fathers both mom and dad
Who tie ribbons and
Talk to dolls
Who brush out tangles
And buy pads
For their girl daughters
Fathers on five jobs
Who crouch on couches
Fathers who chase demons
Fathers who tell tales
Fathers who switch off lights
Fathers who rise before the sun
Fathers who rise with the sun
Fathers who died
Fathers whom we lost
Fathers new
Fathers old
Fathers everywhere
Fathers whose
Girl daughters changed them
Like Common
Fathers blessed with Riley Curry's
Whose warmth
Whose joy
Whose girl beauties
warm the world
Fathers who have lost fathers
Fathers who never rocked their
Girl daughters and boy sons
A joy they only saw on a scanner
Fathers who had to give up their
Girl daughters and boy sons
Unwillingly
Only to begin to die themselves,
Plant a tree.
(c) Lake Adedamola
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 4:03 PM UTC
Would this tale afflict thee O children of the bedevilled rock
Yonder afflictions of substances unknown in cold pits
With tremulous fingers and tempestous lips the body reacts to the invisible
While the blooming radius of the ancient arch is magnified by the moonlight
Through the weary portals of the ages lie unravished and unanswered heartbeats
Across the thin glaced places where the bell tolls for ****** wonder
Where the graces of undying wisdom fain to alight their ancient favor
I, a ravaged rapscallion, trace all the hidden moments of my vain heart
With insticts that lay in the ***** of the undying muses
Strange moments hidden amidst galaxies and battered bodies
Then the feasting begins when nocturnal flavors ****** unperturbed lips
The general substance of furies unknown and muchness unnerved
Tasked with obsolete oaths and unmade promises, the warrior breathes his last
By Rowan Moses
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 5:38 AM UTC
Loneliness takes the breath as I stagger
downside.
Whisper my repentance stated eager voice,
As I cross through the shrouded curtains,
to the nothingness crystallised by dancing jewels.
Bedevilled by temptation,
I surrender my thirst,
lapse into a shattered education,
as I steal the reminisence of desire.
Dec 29, 2012
Dec 29, 2012 at 2:13 PM UTC
I stand in front of you, stunt, sickly.
My eyes are rayless, my skin is weakly.
No sign of joy or peg to life.
I'm tangled in whole in a net of lies.
I don't cry, but tears are all around.
It's like a life circle for me is shut down.
I don't scream - no strength, no strife.
It's like a mouse has gnawed of all my life.
I stand in front of you, disheveled.
I'm like a book, thumbed through, bedevilled.
And there's no use or purpose in it.
Her place is on the far shelf indeed.
I stand in front of you as I am right now.
Don't drive me away from you, put up with somehow.
I've no strength, no faith, no meaning, no purpose.
Leave me a pinch of love at least, with no pose.
Apr 29, 2025
Apr 29, 2025 at 4:12 PM UTC
This particular soul
Doomed to endure eternal love
This particular soul
Cursed by the mourning dove
This particular soul,
Wretches under the spell
“BIND IT , WOVE IT !” , They screamed
Poor entity
Bedevilled by such enchantments
And so,
The spirit shivered , raw to much affection,
So it seeped ,
Like cushioned paint oozing from the tin
So then,
Strings of passion , fondness yearned out of the shell
Clinging onto ,
Partial Juliet’s
For much love is too much to bear
Alone
Wherein the entity feared most
Therein ,
The soul shared love openly
Why may you ask?
The fear of loving one so intensely
Would leave him alone , broken and densely
So it makes sense to the broken wreck ,
To fraction his emotion
As the fears of loving oneself,
And another,
Whole heartedly ,
May crush this particular soul
Sep 3, 2018
Sep 3, 2018 at 2:08 PM UTC
In a tear of morning
on the fig tree leaf
lies the dream about the bird without wings.
Bird who
sang the silence of aborted memories,
drunk the sweat of bedevilled paradise
and surrendered to drown
in a tear of morning
on the fig tree leaf.
Jun 23, 2020
Jun 23, 2020 at 1:36 AM UTC
Isolation
living from the land
on a prayer
winter so dark and wet
seals canter the mountainous waters
sheep cowering before the wind
ships torn apart by jagged stone
eyes peering through the salt stained windows
whilst oats are being ground
bubbling gruel over the fire
oily wool being teased
thick yarn being worked
a bedevilled figure appears on a doorstep
a wreck survivor shivers in soaked skin
they bring him in before a fire
tweeds for the sea angel
exhaustion and gruel draw him to sleep
he will live and reap
the months pass by
sustained by a meagre thrift
Gaelic songs of old
reviving those long gone
stories so bold
simple games to hold
hammer out the rock
lower a body
reanoint and cover with honed rock
one more enters the island of Hirta
lifted out of the hole by an ancestor and one not surviving a wreck
transcend the drift wood hall
eternal summer celebrations for all
dancing and talking in a common spiel
watching over their offspring of Kilda zeal
storms are abating and spring thrusts in
wavering candles lights the verse
crinkled hands are opened in praise
closed eyes against the cold
warms hearts now engaged
thanks, and a prayer
are given to Hirta spirts and creators alike
Jun 10, 2020
Jun 10, 2020 at 6:55 AM UTC