"befuddled" poems
Its a scam, its a scam, see the Crimson Gang deftly scamming them
They by sleight have befuddled gullible masses Moral Compass
Made them see wrong as right twisting their brains from the stem
With deceitful guile they shepherded them all to the fools' campus
Slander and fake News galore fed to vacant hungry masses scrum
Knowledge is power the reprobates declares, do not let it pass
We're the majority the bullies screams, knowing they're just scums
Worthless charlatans who rob successes and **** without cutlass
They take a foregone conclusion and coat it with fool's gold crumb
A victim with no intention of going after an uninterested lass
Dumb masses fed fake news fooled into harassing actions dumb
A non-event becomes a show of the controlling might of our class
Crimson gangs interpret a non-events from his deluded sad drum
Creates a warped sick drama round a hapless victim for laughs
Gives street theater actions to masses, these will oppose and numb
Whilst poor victim subjected to 'voiding' madness wonders past
The Crimson leaders laugh so much like pirates drinking ***
Look how we manipulate the masses, they are so simple and crass
With our devious twisting propaganda they eat out of our ***
We simply use them to nail and crucify our victim to the cross
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
Hunting has a noble heritage, for sure
Bringing us together, it forged a species
Keen-eyed, communicative, feared by the fierce
So who am I to begrudge you your sport?
I, too, love wide open skies, tramping over bog and fen,
I even quite like dogs!
I imagine nature might reveal herself to you
In signs jealously guarded from the armchair carnivore.
I can almost reconcile your harsh percussion
With the croak of the raven, the sloshing tide
And the chewing and mooing of cattle.
But the pheasant! For the love of God, the pheasant?
It can hardly be a battle of wits!
I've seen him as he sits, a big, red bullseye
On fences and *****
Startled by every day he survives.
How stirring can it be,
Picking off the ones the cars and lorries never got?
When you carry him home,
Better off dead,
Hang him in your garage for a week
Feeling like Henry VIII,
Cut him down, slit him open and find the crop
Stuffed not with heather shoots and beetles
But with half a pound of store-bought grain
(Generously laced with antibiotics) -
I hope the realisation creeps up
That you may as well have asserted yourself
In the hen coop,
Blasting away at befuddled poultry
And saving yourself a walk.
Nov 24, 2010
Nov 24, 2010 at 1:33 AM UTC
The moment I saw her I forgot all that I knew,
The sky was green and the grass was blue.
I have been searching for this girl all my life long,
With kaleidoscope eyes as from that old Beatles song.
A girl who would join me in wandering no matter the cost,
Wandering without purpose never to be lost.
Except in her beauty her smile and grin,
Those beautiful eyes desperately dragging me in.
They are as blue and as deep as the Caribbean Sea,
They then seem a light brown as a fresh brewed coffee.
Or are they a shade of dark green,
Glistening with not tears but a playful gleam.
As I look closer they take on a color without a name,
After seeing those eyes I'll never quite be the same.
Many cultures claim the eyes as the door to the soul,
And I found this is true as I saw not just her eyes but her whole.
In those pools of serenity I saw her true heart,
I saw the angel within and then was called to depart.
The harder I fought to stay by her side,
The faster and stronger became the ride.
My heart was broken and my mind befuddled,
As I felt myself being pulled through a long and dark tunnel.
I awoke with a start and sat up in my bed,
I let out a cry and buried my head.
She has to be real and not just in my mind,
But in the real world she has proved hard to find.
I walk through each day vigilant and aware,
Trying to find the girl with the kaleidoscope stare.
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 11:20 PM UTC
O Moon, where are you now?
I feel like you left while things were getting so good
Emotions were visiting then passing through
Tears were falling off my cheeks into the cosmic ocean of emptiness
Dreams were appearing as if my heart made them living entities
The night breeze whisked with your radiance danced with the hairs on my legs
My sisters and I absorbed the breath of the galaxy under an open ring in the sky
You hid underneath the holey blankets of silky night clouds
Befuddled by your absence, a confusion arises of how to live in my own light, without your light.
Aug 31, 2015
Aug 31, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
As Dusk Slowly Grasped The Day In Cold Hands,
Blue Birds Snuggled Into Their Nests Of Soft Hay,
Clouds Rolled In--Tucking In The Frosted Lands,
Ducking Into Sleep Fragile Flowers Waited To Play,
Eager For The Day Robins Closed Their Tired Eyes,
Ferns Sway In A Befuddled Wind--It's Mind Whirling,
Gregarious Crickets Shake Away Their Frosty Ties,
Homesick Linnets Wings Spread--Elegantly Swirling,
Illuminating The Night Sat The Paled Lonely Moon,
Jubilant It Is Though, Upon It's View From The Sky,
Kissable Caterpillars Lounge In Their Cocoons,
Lost In Sleep They Dream Of The Clouds So High,
Mother's Of The Nocturnal World Lead Their Young,
Northward To Play In Wheat Filled Prairies,
Organic Love Loomed Where The Branches Hung,
Promenading Inside A Wind Smelling Like Berries,
Quietly The First Few Drops Of Rain Fell,
Ricocheting Off Of Budding Leaves,
Sweet Mother Earth Caught Everything In Her Spell,
Tonight A Sacred Lullaby Is Whispered By The Trees As,
Untamed Ligtning Struck The Frozen Ground,
Vibrating The Sky Thunder Crashed,
Water Swam Through The Air Creating No Sound,
Xenon and Nitrogen Screamed While They Clashed,
Yet No Gentle Creature Was Awakened--Grasping
ZZzz's Under The Year's First Shower
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 9:36 PM UTC
Today, somebody's words awoke the ashes of my long dead heart
I know that was much more than mere fictional ink spilling out of a creative mind
I forgot how that felt, years back, you know, emotions
it reminded me of the excuses I gave to myself
for running away from relationships
for choosing to live alone
for not meeting my friends often
for not talking to my family for over a minute
for deciding I am simply not meant for marriage
and certainly not for ever having kids
their hurt, hurt me
and it felt like more than I could take
so I chose unattachedness over fragility
somehow, that strategy doesn't forge too well here
I am too seized by words to even try to be nonchalant towards my current better half
towards strangers over family
the rust has been removed from over my bemired emotions
pragmatism has been thrown to the dugout
those words have left my haven purged
and I am left befuddled, meditating over a paradox
They aren’t my carks, yet, I can't stop feeling them.
Aug 5, 2012
Aug 5, 2012 at 10:14 AM UTC
Spill some wine on the season--
He's walking home at 1 am
And full of well gin and reasons
for both staying and leaving
and dripping orange lamplight
He thinks he'll try and dry out
(sure)
Try sinking in ideas and a couch
on his back lawn
Same old thoughts just circle
overhead in lazy patterns
Synced with beats made by cars passing
on the street at 2 am.
It's a passion play he's caught in
Passing days with failing stances
Whilst the nights keep passing faster
into blue-black blurs like bruises.
Open lids to empty coffins
With those thoughts' befuddled movements
--And he's introduced again
And it gets a little lonely
sitting on that couch with only
empty bottles and neuroses
for to break that pattern up
with another worn out pattern--
For to keep him in cold company.
Oct 28, 2012
Oct 28, 2012 at 11:43 AM UTC
The elixir that I take in,
To indulge all of my deadly sins.
Eighty proof of malign madness,
Trapped in a bottle of rancid bases.
**** my insecurity,
And drown me in my reverie.
Where all the worst become the best,
Where fear and shame cannot arrest.
Each trickle burns my frozen core,
A second turns to forevermore.
The holy water from the river Styx,
That forces every mime to speak.
Stay with me 'til I succumb,
To this empty heart that's gone benumbed.
When this head's befuddled with every lie,
Until they look true before these jaded eyes.
My most loyal companion,
Don't wake me while I'm woebegone.
I'll intoxicate this bleeding heart,
And let this hell just fall apart.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 10:43 AM UTC
There once was who a Man who fell into a Cave,
and although it was dark, he tried to be brave.
With no light which to guide him, and fear right beside him,
he tried to get out but his hopes were in vain.
Further into darkness this man would then wonder;
no knowledge that all of his efforts would plunder.
As the passage grew tighter, he wished to retire,
but brought forth all the courage his heart could then muster.
A roaring of rapids he heard up ahead;
still fighting the fight yet succumbing to dread.
Then the tunnel grew wider, his worry seemed lighter,
as he dreamed that he'd one day return to his bed.
As he climbed from the end of this funneling hole,
and stepped further in darkness he fell to below.
What felt like forever, was the length of a feather,
now this man had to wade in a water so cold.
He swam although blind, first left and then right,
then down and back up he tried with his might.
He felt trapped in a world, with no diamonds, nor pearls
till he scoured the wall and found a pinhole of light.
This man of great strength then took one last dive,
and low-and-behold a new passage did find.
He followed it through, away from this pool,
and came up in another yet barely alive.
He was freezing, and shaking, his head it was aching
from fright and unknown during this undertaking.
Yet this brand new room, was filled with a jewel;
a jewel of which this man had no mistaking.
It was filled with light of the same glorious day,
a hole in this cavern overhead did lay.
He tried climbing the wall, only down did he fall,
but this did not stop him or keep him at bay.
He tried once again to still make it out;
climbing and jumping, and thrusting, about.
Till he reached the top, but still did not stop,
until he lay on the grass, no longer with doubt.
The warmth of the sun encircled his body.
His soul intact, yet his head was still foggy.
Exhausted, befuddled, arrested, and muddled;
he began to walk back yet fell into a copy.
Of the same devilish cave he had once been,
and it was up to him, only him, to climb back out again.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
Clouds, Clouds, Clouds, Clouds
Calculated Clouds
Interesting Idioms
Physical Phenomena
Spiritual Symbolisms
Cloud seven
Completely happy, perfectly satisfied, wholly euphoric
Cloud eight
Befuddled by drinking too much liquor
Cloud nine
Jumping for joy; walking on air
Have one’s head in the clouds
To be out of touch with reality
Every cloud has a silver lining
Difficult times always lead to better days
He must be under a cloud
People have an unfavourable opinion of him
There’s a cloud on the horizon
An omen threatening to happen in time
To live in cloud-cuckoo land
Believing those truly impossible things will happen
High-Level Clouds
Cirrus and Cirrostratus
Mid-Level Clouds
Altocumulus and Altostratus
Low-Level Clouds
Nimbostratus and Stratocumulus
Vertical Development Clouds
Cumulus and Cumulonimbus
Other Cloud Types
Contrails and Billows
Mammatus and Orographic
And Pileus
An arc in the clouds represents God’s promises
A pillar of cloud symbolised the Lord’s guidance
Do you understand the balancing of the clouds?
He that considers the clouds shall not reap
In OT times, the cloud filled the temple
Jesus Christ will return on clouds of victory
And a personal one
Black clouds one afternoon covered the Salève
Hiding a most beautiful rainbow
And despite the clouds’ efforts to confuse
His promises are forever true
Which cloud are you under?
Sep 28, 2020
Sep 28, 2020 at 2:36 PM UTC
A diagnosis of masturbatory insanity
is the inevitable conclusion
that I, as a fellow onanist,
debaucher of sheep,
and baby goat buggerer
have bestowed upon your befuddled mind.
Your insistence in frequenting
the Heinous Sin of Self-Pollution
and self evacuation of one's seed
with mutual onanistic pursuits of sodamistic bed fellows
and other anti Christian pursuits,
have finally brought a visitation of madness
to the perverted soggy mess
masquerading as your brain;
If one may make an
advantageous suggestion
to your befuddled self,
it would be to seek out a restorative nervous elixir
or wrist strengthening electuary,
the former of which would aid in the
"compos mentis" of your good self;
and the latter is extremely efficacious in the
soothing of onanist wrist
and vinegar stroke eye.
but alas; neither is of use against the
" ejaculatio praecox " of foetid poetry..
your Servant, Obadiah Grey.
Secretary for spermatorrhea conservation
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 12:28 PM UTC
Vibrant colors,
droves of faces,
quite the happy daze
Tepid gods,
vast oasis,
such euphoric haze
Visions sublime,
befuddled senses
precede the happy dance
Creativity sparked,
mother nature's dreaming,
find your totem in the trance
by Mercurychyld
©
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
Completely befuddled
We fake it as muggles
The abuse we face alone
Buries confusion in our bones
The siren places fear in our hearts
She can be ours
If she wants the part
We can get ahead
By abusing those who would give their bread
In this we are all the same
Many silent murderers with unimportant names
Psychopaths on angry paths
Hell bent on **********
Would you let them continue to dictate the conditions?
Do you trust the statisticians?
We are the result of the easy decision
The sagging construction of constant derision
Another man's home subject to intrusion
A stance is required to end the delusion
They're not here to protect you
It's all an illusion!
Mar 30, 2012
Mar 30, 2012 at 5:44 PM UTC
Discombobulated and flabbergasted, flummoxed indeed? No such bemused and befuddled? I am not perplexed on the prognosis to prospectus. They’re incongruous, I’m incredulous, it’s catawampus. Reconnaissance reconnoiter, rectilinear reciprocal rectitude. Radix repartee: Down here at the bizarre bazaar we all believe in the blasphemous farcical fugue-ness, estranged ensemble orchestrations and all. Some of us are even into the various assorted forms of related stranger weirdness. We’ll be having none of this putrid quasi queasy. Corrupt costume counselor siren skeptic. None of you ignominiously pusillanimous incorrigibles who aren’t brave enough to love are required.
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
*Lightning Enchantress & Her Diamond Absolutes,
Moaning Fluxes Of Her Satellite Pursuits.,
Phantasmal Intents In Her Indigo Silhouettes.
***** Eyes & Animatronic Bliss,
Her Cherry Lips Calling For Her Symphonic Kiss,
Inimitable Raindrops & Iridescent Perpetuity,
Condensed Laments Of Her Kaleidoscopic Sphericity,
Purple Palisades & Platinum Charades,
Pheromone Verses Of Her Propelled Shades,
Shapeshifting Reveries Of Her Hourglass Fictions,
Charming Archangels Concealed In Her Convictions,
Glasshouse Perspectives Emitting Luminescent Predictions,
Magnetic Canvas & Her Stainless Vibrations,
Her Aesthetic Amour Diffusing Amplifications,
Satirical Saga In Her Spiritual ******
Lyrical Charlatans Of Her Velvet Creativity,
Crystal Flowers & Supernatural Dreams,
Befuddled Effigies Of Her Cryptic Realms,
Her Feral Gleams Illustrating A Prophetic Queen.
- 02:32 AM -*
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
Disrupted and befuddled –
Falling away,
Behind and beneath the stars…
Gazing into the black abyss,
Filled only with questions,
Mystery melting into my skin,
Seeping and escaping…
Again empty, Again alone.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
I could lose myself
in you.
I could bury myself and
never look back.
But your love is
quicksand.
You're an
illusion. A card trick.
Houdini's Upside Down.
Will I ever
escape you?
Or are you
the lock that sticks?
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 4:46 PM UTC
Awake I lie at foot of hedge
In sleep I stake my claim
These enigmatic poses read
Delve crossroads good and vain
Determined not by what was said
befuddled state remained
And though the sun shone forth so clear
a fog floats present fear to veer
this course I would retain
So still to seek
a path I must
through this leaf lined elusive muck
Some things are lost
Long left for dust
with time to heal pain (and trust)
But should a solemn path hold true
and light my weary way
a price, a goal, a trove en full
mean nothing
lest it's you
-2006
Jan 25, 2010
Jan 25, 2010 at 11:47 AM UTC
no more rush for the factory gates
or bleary welcomes after whistle led race
no longer the shouts of “what shift you on mate?”
and befuddled replies “earlies, no, lates!”
the comforting throng of familial mass
at the end of each day that held no disgrace
when a days hard work meant a days earned pay
something they somehow forgot to replace
as our livelihoods fled to cheaper climes
and our citadels of labour fell rotting, debased
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:57 PM UTC
Oh my God my heart is slamming
Off the walls in squishy thuds,
Oh my God my mouth is jamming
All my words are wordy muds -
Muds? Muddles!
I’m befuddled!
Watch my lips all slobberdrool!
My big black lungs are outerspace!
THYROID STORM!
Sounds
So
cool!
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 7:20 PM UTC
"With the awareness comes periods of days, sometimes weeks, when I have to avoid looking into a mirror. My self hate is so deep, so palpable, I fear I'll lunge at my own image, shatter the glass and cut myself with shards of broken reflection."
~Jax Teller (Sons Of Anarchy)
The mirror reflects images
Of past things I'd like to forget
Memories project ghosts that faded
Long ago after I built up my regrets
And that reflection shines through
All the different scenarios
Of this life that I've lived through
And heartbreaks, everywhere I go
Heartbreak, heathens, hounds and Hell
What wonderful whispers the mirror has to tell
I've heard them before - **** - they came from my core
Love was the loathing that turned into lore
**** the person in the mirror
The truth could not be clearer:
A monster spawned once the medicine cabinet filled with liquor
You hate me? Join the ******* club
I'm the ******* dartboard at the local pub
Then comes the crashing, the breaking, the cuts and bruises
Spectrums of pieces and shatters of truths
And yet it all just reflects right back to mistakes from our youth
The mirror, just an ugly reminder of shame with all the proof
But what can we do? How can we forget?
The images of the past can't change how they reflect
From another angle we could possibly alter the effect
But no altercations can take away the pain and regret
I take a walk to distance me from myself,
but there is no harbor for demons hiding from Hell
I tried my damnedest to become better,
but despite how earnest, I only grew bitter
Now, being sober just gives me the jitters
I can't be alone with the Devil inside
I can't change things when the problem is I
People see me and they are befuddled
I see only a shell when I pass by these puddles
Empty, that's all that's left of me
Nothing, there's nothing left to see
The mirror is blank, a black hole
Drained into space, the remnants of my soul
Blank reflections shattered against my heart
Feeling of hate and self doubt ripping me apart
The eyes staring back at me have no emotions
Wide gazes and high tides like endless oceans
This nothingness is completely consuming me
My life, love and happiness have been swept out to sea
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
Swirl round, float, flutter,
Then find the light.
My own force searching
Knocks me back away.
Filled only with more questions,
I pace and stare.
Again I dive forward
Into the mystery,
And fall back once more befuddled.
"Is this all there is?
Will I ever know
For what i search?"
Still glowing me down,
My question floats above me.
Finally with all I am I strike.
As I understand it consumes me,
And I am no more.
Light bulb!
How am I to say
I am any different?
As I look at the sun
I wonder how it's there,
I'm reminded that
what gives me life
burns through my air.
The color of life is
only shown by light,
Proving to men
minds are meant to bend.
Shift, alter, change, arrange
Swirl round, float, flutter
we are all the same.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 12:28 PM UTC
Truthfully,
you remind of someone I'd know
in my dreams;
a strangers face made recognizable
by lack of initiative, or curiosity.
Impervious to actualization.
Confidence in nightmares;
reflective of shock-waves of Nagasaki,
mutants in our collective DNA,
monsters wading in the gene pool.
Atheists with superstitions.
A viral nihilism befuddled by
religious idioms and anecdotes,
held together loosely by
scientific mysticism
&
hypocritical moral
superiority.
She reminds me that humanity is just,
"everything that mankind is capable of."
Builds complex doomsday devices in his head,
and plots to rule the world.
Meanwhile Manhattan project seeks
to either rule the world
or open it's
throat.
It pains me to write a puff piece
on hometown, love-life, hope/etc.,
yet I can wax lyric lusting for the apocalypse.
In this fashion, I can look into crowds
[sadistically romantic]
and tell them, aspiring to the Manhattan
in our everyday savage grey matter,
"We all have dreams in our hearts."
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 12:43 AM UTC
Silver linings
Are dreams of clouds
Yet with a sliver of silver
We take to the skies
The angels ask us
To keep their silence
The price for our forbidden flight
But enamored by beauty
Befuddled by grace
we are forever chasing after
that which we wish were
A dozen glass roses
velvet lined stairs
Glass ballroom slippers
Pearls in our hair
Slivers of longing
Are what we have left
The angels disapprove
Silence is broken
The vow unfulfilled
A dozen gold roses
To pave all the stairs
and golden glass slippers
To match our hair
Silence lingers
We are struck blind
The angels turn their backs to us
The gates of heaven are closed
Not even the holiest of days
Will cleanse our souls
Goyim
Infidels
******
a dozen red roses
Line the graves to the stairs
They shattered our slippers
And tore out our hair
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 7:18 AM UTC
I had someone ask me once
A stranger befuddled
Why are all your writings
*** grime or death
I replied quite honestly,
For a strangers questioning,
'Because those are the most honest things in the universe
Because I don't believe in unimagination
Id rather read of feeding on entrails beautifully written
Than the wet smell of new love
We'd rather see gods creatures splayed red and pink on the sides of highways
Than to live without cars and roads
I'm not sure if that's relevant or poetic but who really cares anyway
I'm certain that fire raining from the sky incites more passion than a newly born anything
The most fun I've ever had I'm sure I was unclothed
And I don't know about you, consumer, but sweaty ****** vicious *** is more pure than the most heartfelt love I've ever felt
If that means I'm damaged - I don't think I mind it
If that makes you pity me - don't
These are just the darkened folded alleyways of my curly brain
I can't relate to normalcy but I've heard that's nothing to be ashamed of
Your glass words cut my face and guts sharply but I'm certain I can't feel it
And I am not bothered by your gore - I feel contented by your devils
And I'd like to know who's with me in this all too descriptive sickness'
Oct 18, 2013
Oct 18, 2013 at 10:18 AM UTC