"castigate" poems
As a matter of fact
"I Do"
This particular hospital visit has become an UnKnown drifting barge of cold,
Dismal,a bit austere and forlorn
Fatigue and tension was an early onset of the week.
Spent most the time looking for relief
Every attempt gave life to a unique defeat
An Inexorable desire for the calm to anoint me
I volunteer, then become abased, when they don't appoint me
Irritated When Lustful walls castigate me
Now the needle sings a seductive serenade of sedition,
Slowly, softening the soul to surrender to sleep and submission
That is the mental, and physical surrender, but what of the spiritual and emotional exhortation for permission?
I remain here not home
I prepare for the pain all alone
Dilaudid stirring up my veins and then some
Hoping to endow or maim some predilection from U,
-Alexis-
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
I am sorry for your pain
but I am not the cause
and seeing how you've treated me
I think I know what was
Dishonest in your ranting
as you're girlfriend and not wife
no wonder why he shies away
from unrelenting strife
Accusing without evidence
eschewing private mail
you castigate me publicly
as illogically you rail
Behaving with much cruelty
demonstrating zero class
you couldn't solve a mystery
if it bit you in the ***
18 Jun 2015
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 6:22 PM UTC
Hey kid, I woke up buzzing, here
In the future ruins of ancient America.
Staring, after the imperial sunrise,
Listening to Los Angeles on repeat.
Insistent and purple, only
Sediment left in the
Bottles of night.
This third-world way
Causes Third World War
So I'm drinking at a
Tavern on the End.
The bus goes by, and
"Baseball's the worst sport."
Alliteration, allusion,
Colors, characters,
And metaphors.
Sobriety sending me
Searching for smoke.
Rehash, re-up, and "read the ****** thing." My world-view,
Out-maneuvering your
Upbringing.
(The memories I have are white and yellow.
Fogged, not angry, if even confused.
You'd call me, after finishing your nightly readings, to cry about the characters you'd loved, and castigate my inability to care.
Remember when you used "undermined" to describe the adaptation?
You meant that it was "assuming too much.")
"Brenda and Eddie," over here,
"Couldn't go back to the greasers" so they
Wound up at your family's tavern.
"You look like the fat kid,
On whom the popular girl was
Forced to settle."
Dear Man,
Woman's found you out. Or
Are we, justly, doomed to be
More juvenile?
Worn sole, soul-open, "so long,
Kid, I don't know you, but,
I can't help myself from
Destroying you."
(My upbringing: out-maneuvering
Your world-view.)
"You've always been the caretaker, Flagstaff."
The bait's in your brain.
You've simply been
Overlooking the barkeep.
(Dear Diary, could I just die already?
The Price is Life, and purgatory's a game show.
Anger, the color of your mother.
Skin, the shade of yard-work.
Staring at road maps of Virginia, stoic.
Trying to divine the diners we'd die in.)
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:41 AM UTC
*Of success
masks of deeds
degrees well earned
ladders ascended
heroism one time..
all of these
each one's own..
masks of success
hiding ourselves
from ourselves..
Of failure
in mirror image
with extra power
hiding ourselves
from ourselves..
Unmasking
throws questions..
venerate success..?
castigate failure..?
Success
masks itself..?
and failure too..?
now breathing:
ego unmasking
as we go...*
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 11:34 PM UTC
Your anonymous blog
To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,
but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.
You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.
You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.
With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely pesuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.
poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.
literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.
To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.
– Zumwalt (2011) (copied from www.zumpoems.com)
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 8:53 AM UTC
Poverty,
food in the reclamation yard.
Life's tough,
it's hard to be full of energy when
the meter is empty and all you see
are the toffs who scoff at society.
Poverty,
cardboard caskets in the cemetery.
There's a niche between the have and the have nots,
the place they throw away food and it rots,
bread, bread but not for the dead and the mould
we can give to the weary and old,
it's share and share and **** them, they don't count
and we don't care.
Circumstance gives a fat chance and the fat cats get the fat other than that all is well for the poor and the needy who dwell in the dark because the meter is empty.
Poverty,
in the park, on the bench, what a stench,
why don't they bathe, why don't they shave, why don't they save the pittance they get or better yet why give them a pittance, give them ****** all?
Poverty,
call for ticket number forty three, your benefits have changed please come to booth B.
We are being outsourced to be the dampcourse in some old Etonian duck pond, all expenses paid by another raid on the 'workshy' who in any case will get by
because we're all in this together dontya know.
Poverty
is just a name they use to defuse the ticking bomb,
castigate the poor, exonerate the rich,
build another workhouse and life's not such a *****
We know differently, we who live poverty, we who see inequality but we still and will
**** for a dime.
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 7:14 AM UTC
**LEAVE HATRED OUTSIDE MY DOOR
WHEN YOU COME IN**
this Notice boarded on my door
seems to have done little to impress.
the ones that come in
still read from the hate book.
speak ill of others behind their back
curse those they don't agree with
spew vitriol against all not their own
criticize food habits and dresses
castigate the new generation
find fault with the old
generalize on the basis of race religion
trifle faith belief sentiment
envy for what they don't have
intensely dislike assumed disabilities
even a squint a stammer a mole a limp
more passionate in degrading than appreciating
systems, processes, relations, actions, attitudes.
people won't mend, behind them i think,
*they're so ****** disgusting.*
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
We'll never move forward as a society as long as our children are left to die from abuse , sold for *** like a piece of meat , bullied by their peers and killed on our streets ..
Depression misdiagnosed by primary physicians and medicines that only help half of the affected , high suicide rates amongst our young civilians and soldiers alike , addiction rates that continue to spike .. When the nails rain down again we'll most certainly be caught off guard , zealots hung by their thumbs and water boarded will lead the charge .
Martyrs in shackles will fan the flames at the base of the tower once again ..
Woefully few ambulances will be available to minister to the dying , not enough heroes to answer their cries , political parties will begin their denial , those that remain will swear revenge against "the Cowards .."
A faith will be declared illegal and guilty , this time the Eagle will have zero pity ..
She will pursue the same mistakes of previous nations , attempt to firebomb the very soul of a civilization . The Crescent Moon has endured many military occupations , defended a long list of potential aggressors , their bones lie in antiquity , across her deserts and within her cities while the Lion , Eagle and the Bear scar another generation who will in turn castigate her enemies silver cities with relentless terroristic abominations ..
I witnessed the carnage in a dream , hate bursting at the seams , flowing like a river down city streets , sweeping the innocents into the storm sewer , oblivious to their screams .
We worry so much about nuclear weapons as we wipe each other out with pipe bombs and pistols , we fear chemical weapons while drugs are destroying our nation ..
I wonder how far the funds for one missile would go towards treating children with cancer ? The cost of one grenade could feed a homeless man freezing on the street .. The price of one Humvee could provide shelter for the forgotten society tonight in this misguided nation of ours ..
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 3:08 PM UTC
I'm an active volcano.
Sometimes, I slowly expel
My ash and steam; then again
I erupt to litter all
With my fiery core from hell.
Sometimes I poison the air.
Other times, I castigate
Those, who would subvert my goals.
I demand sacrifices
Of innocent and guiltless.
Bring me virgins, more virgins.
Maiden's Answer:
Dearest sovereign of this mountain land,
Your humble servant, accepts your hand.
To save ken, friends, and our countrywide,
I gladly consent to be your bride
For, in a sense, I'd become your wife.
I'm vestal, as the day I was born,
My integrity is not wayworn,
My righteousness is a source of pride,
But I shall promise to be your bride,
If you may grant my one small request.
Your strength, your wisdom, are beyond compare.
You have spent an eternity there.
So, I must ask a simple query,
Before I promise us to marry.
Might you be overcompensating?
Feb 21, 2013
Feb 21, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
"Fi-li-o-pi-e-tism"
*Noun:
An often excessive veneration of ancestors or tradition such that new ideas are generally discouraged, often via punishment, and conformity is strictly enforced.*
*-The Monkey Lesson-
In 1967, a psychological experiment was conducted on rhesus monkeys:*
Five monkeys (A, B, C, D, E) in a room with a ladder, upon which are bananas.
As any given monkey climbs the ladder for the food, the rest are sprayed down with cold water.
Eventually, the monkeys learn to punish the one who climbs to preclude discomfort for the group.
One monkey (A) is then swapped out for a new one (1) that hasn't gotten the cold shower.
As 1 inevitably strives for the bananas, monkeys B, C, D, and E immediately punish.
Another monkey (B) is swapped out for a new one (2) that tries for the bananas
and 1, C, D, and E punish.
A third monkey is substituted (3) and not knowing of the original circumstance reaches for food.
1, 2, D, and E drop the hammer.
A fourth is introduced (4) in place of another original member (D),
and the beatings continue from 1, 2, 3, and E.
Finally the fifth is substituted (5) in place of the final original member (E),
and the group (1, 2, 3, 4) keeps up the trend of assault.
The result is a group of monkeys
that never received the cold water treatment
that still continued to castigate any individual
that tried to climb the ladder for the food.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 6:54 AM UTC
my cuddly teddy bear
and I shall snuggle up tonight
we'll stay under the covers
until the dawning light
if teddy does any farting
during the night
I'll toss him out of bed
with the greatest delight
should my teddy
not behave in bed
he'll be sleeping on the floor
minus a pillow for his head
teddy better not irk me
or overly aggravate
for if he does
I'll severely castigate
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 8:48 PM UTC
I give thanks, I have faith
that the year to come comes on like
honey and bourbon
That is to say that life's day-to-day way
It intoxicates, opens gates, and
Do not need spirits Cuz I
I can drift smiling
Sleep of supplication to the yen of faith
Oh and yes that broke the rhythm,
Lord don't castigate, Don't lacerate my
Words my rhymes (seems overly obvious to
Use "time"; Use it to my advantage
if not in verse, then,
As was saying Oh oh Oh Lord please
Don't suppurate the wound of writer's
Block before my mind's sweet eye
Oh, time, oh Lord my imploration:
Let this year, then, truly be
As sweet as yams in late November.
Amen.
(Thanksgiving 2010)
Sep 7, 2011
Sep 7, 2011 at 6:45 AM UTC
Castigate Sublimate
Sanctify Indoctrinate
Expatriate Disseminate
Proselytize Reiterate
Reject, Deny, and Obfuscate
Incarcerate Dehumanize
Desensitize Decimate
Incinerate Rejuvenate
Simplify and Permeate
Jan 7, 2017
Jan 7, 2017 at 9:44 AM UTC
So you call him 'Prince'
I don't castigate you at all
He treats you like royalty
It's just the beginning,
I know
The inception of your relationship
The honeymoon phase
I presume
You can't believe your luck
You're in pure bliss
I see
Flowers, chocolates and sweet nothings
It is surreal
Enjoy it while it lasts
Soon he will be tired of being
Who he isn't
The shoes will be too tight
There won't be any more pretending
By and by
The animal will replace the gentleman
Slowly but surely
He will break you down with his insults
He will beat you up with his fists
One of these not-so fine days
Love will turn to loathe
Your palace will turn into a prison
The Prince will turn to a Villain
Jealousy you may say
Prophet of Doom you may label me
Forerunner is more appropriate
Consider yourself
FOREWARNED!
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 2:11 PM UTC
Replicate
Castigate
Litigate
You tell lies
Then we vote
Still you win
We’re sullen
Ripped apart
Suspended
Tacit rage
Complacent
Acceptance
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 6:33 AM UTC
Castigate!
Fill with hate!
Expose their views
at any rate!
Interrogate!
Segregate!
Expose their lives
at any rate!
Disintegrate!
Celebrate!
Expose your own life
at any rate!
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 9:42 AM UTC
a calyx in chaos.
a crack in chalky crown, crimson, cratered, clowns
cry crystal shards....
clothe me in crimpolene
in shades of clinical ivory
and cream.
come hither they cry
and carp, cavil,caterwaul.
come hither, come,
come, come.
cypher the cyan, from the cyanide
castigate, the casting,
of the conversational.
be cognisant, within the
cogs of the clock...
click-ticking..tick-clicking
in chorus, chant of canticle.
be the calm,
within the clemency.
and the core,
of the courageous.
concede not,
contemplate, with conscioncious, clear
the concepts of conotation
above all be
incomparable, capricious, canny and considerate
a conglomerate of cause, corpus and crux.....
both curious and a curiosity.
cause...
creation, cherishes
a clever n' curious, curiosity.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
You don’t populate
my dreams
so much anymore
I castigate myself
for this
abysimal lack
of your presence
but every night
my dreams take me
somewhere
you aren’t .
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 10:05 PM UTC
*cool flames
on the flower darken the bloom
where the impending hallelujahs
are merely a whoop in the
doom.
we castigate the vigor of evils
as they prosper from our flight,
and misread the graffito
on the holy wall
of Night.
choose
your phantoms like you -
choose your friends... but never love
a wonderment. be calm in all
the doings there
that hang your head
in constant
farce.
be kind
to all the angels
in your gallery of
rusted prayers.
and dabble just a bit
in much deeper
things
than Poetry.
II
This
is the form you take
from a ghost,
a complete fiend
half empty, on the cusp
of a raw deal. a blue blight
that has it's engines
revving the clutch
of every plight.
a
new eden
for the hell we're in
to accomplish
less than
spite.
to keep it all suspended
in the miracle
Life.*
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 12:40 PM UTC
Another dawn breaks,
“Again the chilled border,
Has gone red with terror”
On my TV screen Olive green
Uniforms shaded in brown,
Lied on the stretchers,
Some still, some wriggling with,
Pain creeping to the core.
You and me being safe at home
Fought with each other, over
The extra cube of sugar,
That spoilt the taste of tea.
We always grumble, castigate,abuse,
Inside the safe walls of home.
While those fearless men,
Sleeplessly guard our borders.
Salute to those brave men who,
Forget their love and life for us,
And go back home in coffins,
Covered with a nation’s pride.
Bullets pierced their body, splashed
The warm blood, from their hearts,
Flooded in the memories of their
Loved ones, all far off.
Salute to those mothers, sisters
Wives, daughters, sons and bros,
Who surrender to their loss,
And say,” I love my nation,
And I‘m proud, that my son,
My brother, my love and life,
My dad, lived for this nation,
Lived for each one of you…"
Let’s pity ourselves, you and me
For, we forget them in a day,
Sitting in our cool, cozy rooms,
And argue over mean things
Because we have no worries,
When they are there to die for us,
Not letting us to surrender,
To the terror, fear and worry..
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 12:12 PM UTC
Tell me truly who you are,
not from afar, but to my ear.
Do not fear: I shall not castigate,
excoriate. Dissemble not: No
equivocation. prevarication.
Tell me truly what's in your heart.
Is terror there, or guilt? Rage ablaze
from needs unmet? Do unhealed hurts
leave you reeling in a maelstrom of
doubt? Open up your heart
and let your agonies fly out.
In gentle ways let us discuss
worth of self. Let light penetrate hate,
mollify madness, assuage pain.
Let your forthcoming,
my love for your realness,
heal us both.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jun 23, 2025
Jun 23, 2025 at 10:12 PM UTC
Be all, see all, say all
in insignificance, sightless and inarticulate
what else to own but superficiality and posturing
belligerence in the absence of self-worth and substance
inadequacies, vices and shame all painted in snowflakes hues
the gut wrenching fact of the disadvantages of life's station and status
that limitation of social placements and scarcity of development
the cossetted ignorance bred and the hackneyed minds
the riveting pain of resultant bad choices made
the hate and self-loathing ingested within
that staining perception of oppression
the anger of not being good enough
of un-taken opportunities
of being down-trodden
the inferiority complex
frustration of hardship
invisible and unheard
what can they do, what can they say
oh hell, find them a way to vent and depressurize
find them a scapegoat to blame and share their suffering
give them an object to demonize and castigate and burn at the stake
give them a sacrificial lamb to relieve their incessant angst and anger
Let them be all comrades
Let them inflect suffering and gape
Let them be able to say we have tied Colossus down
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 4:52 PM UTC
One child...
wrapped in grandmother's quilt.
Protected from the night's raw chill...
sits on a grassy knoll
and lifts innocent eyes to the stars.
Dreaming the visions of a child
not yet plagued by life's unjust ordeals.
Dreams of play, dreams of peace...
reverie lacking all vilification
for seeds of hatred
have not yet been taught.
-Longing for this child's innocence.-
I sit beside her...
my gaze focused on the same faint points
of a somber twilight.
She attempts to fill my mind with her
visions of inner dreams,of peace.
But alas, I am much older;
although I fight the seeds of hatred
sown long ago...
rooted phantoms castigate my soul.
-Longing for this child's purity of love.-
My dreams are reality,
nightmares assaulting all senses.
Exploding buildings...
Falling forms of people
forced to choose death from flame or hard concrete.
Smelling the stench of burnt decaying flesh.
As vultures feed upon our nation.
Hearing the screams of innocence
trapped in the rubble awaiting their
slow horrific death...
Alone!
Tasting an acid thirst, a desire for revenge
devours any sense of justice within me.
Feeling anguish for children
who have lost parents or loved ones.
My outcry sees seeds of hatred planted,
and taking root in new and fertile souls.
-Longing for this child's peaceful dreams.-
She removes a warm hand from beneath the quilt.
Without hesitation, she reaches out to me.
Too young to know why...
movement born from instinct...
sensing my need for comfort.
-Hope becomes rooted, sown by one pure child.-
Now I see... all of her dreams reside in my hands.
My part of this tenuous bargain called humanity.
To build a chance for this one special child,
our possible future.
Without a sound we return our thoughtful gaze
into the night's darkness as clouds begin to clear.
The star's faint glow is minute, a soft web of light
embracing this child's innocent trust.
Once again I can dream her dreams.
We remain, two silent souls searching
the celestial pathways for others who hope as we --
-To discover a child's pure desire to heal.-
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 8:08 PM UTC
Suspended behind the panes lit up by golden glows
I lay and watch the world turning and darkness descend
with you, wrapped against my stomach, heart humming
eyes closing; flicker open with each page turned.
Peace is eternal; I could stay here held in times palm
for the rest of days, solitude is serenity when I think to
the others, who irritate, castigate, berate as a necessity.
I am happy alone with my fragile bird.
But my bird cannot walk, it's wings are tied to the ground
and I give you no choice but to stay with me; my prisoner
hidden under the pretence of saviour and eyes turned to the light
that I watch darken each day. Recover my dove, then fly away.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC