"contrite" poems
Am I really that uncouth?
Have you lot yet worked out the truth.
The **** I write, it's so contrite.
I know you're dim
but I thought you might.
I've been feeding bananas to you all.
Big bananas, none are small.
All are bent, of course they are.
Enough's enough, it's gone too far.
Dear Voyeurs, to all my fans.
Some ride cycles, some drive vans.
for M&Y, yeah you're the guy.
So I bait my line and continue the lie.
But let's have it right, as well I might.
You wanted to play,
so pretended you're gay.
Now most I know aren't,
but one or two do.
Boiler repair guy with the twinkly eye.
Bent over in two, I spank with a shoe.
And all that he asks is, I call him Sue.
So I have him pegged,
for that's what he begged.
But now he knocks on my door
wanting much more.
Fuckin' Big Bent Bananas
by Kaydee.
(slurp, slurp)
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 2:55 PM UTC
Suppress your thoughts
Suppress your feelings
Suppress anything that doesn’t fit
Society society
Hear their rules
Abide by their dictatorship
Long for more
Yearn for pleasure
Learn to live
Society society
Hear their rules
Abide by their dictatorship
No feelings are right
Individuality is contrite
Burn that heart
It has no place
Society. Society.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 11:37 PM UTC
In times gone by, now recondite,
Neanderthal, ***** upright,
spoke softly, tones so lily-white,
and tried to put the world aright.
He taught us how the flame ignites
that wearing furs will warm the nights,
just why the rolling wheel excites,
and how the beveled flint stone bites.
Before the days of dynamite
he fought his foes with spit and spite,
and swung big sticks with all his might,
and rendered death with stones in flight.
Engaged in never-ending fight
(arenas were a global sight)
he forced his forces to unite
to sate his oily appetite.
To quell rude thoughts that may incite
he ruled the realm with fly-by-nights
and culled the winds of words in flight,
and darkened minds to anthracite.
With fairy tales of evil sprites
and how the fist of freedom smites,
he washed the world with flames alight
to vanquish hoards of parasites.
Each dawn the damage brought delight,
the foe was bent, a bit contrite…
yet battled on with no respite
until the dusk and evening light.
Encamped beside the firelight
Neanderthal, that shiny Knight,
awaited morn while sitting tight
assured the end would be alright.
Yes, conquest seemed his sacred right…
Forevermore?… well, no, not quite…
Neanderthal's extinct tonight
and lies beside the Trilobite…
MORAL
The Oreo is round, not bright:
while rolling near the candlelight
at first the searing seemed so slight,
the molten cream an oversight…
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
I am the barbed thorn
the serrated reward
facing savage cruel winter;
sedition in transmission.
I am the only pawn
on your chequered board
facing a feisty queen;
of restricting submission.
I am the demonic exon
a heraldic discord
facing bleak futures;
an inherent disposition.
I am the stillborn reborn
the aberration restored
facing anomalies instability;
violation on a mission.
I am broken and worn
a fallen sword
facing a grim battle;
outnumbered by division.
I am the brass horn
the out of tune chord
facing orchestral expulsion;
a musician in remission.
I am history's forewarn
the contrite accord ignored
facing penitent absolution;
clemency in transition.
Jun 22, 2014
Jun 22, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Friend Rockstar,
Listen, yield to a robust think-tank,
earlobes skidding against wheat and grain.
Terrible story, yes, what happened to that little girl.
Sterile teddy nightgowns weeping in the squad car windows.
Teacher – Teacher, do you harken my yodels for grace?
I’ve never been maternal.
Put the game on. Abortion.
That’s what I’m about.
Grab a bra. Sling some weight.
That’s what I’m about.
Some housefly wings on a weathered corn cob.
Some downhome, homegrown twang for those fancy, fussy britches.
Muddy workboots. Sweat-soaked collars.
That’s what I’m about.
Him done made me read, sir.
What sacraments did we write today?
I can still remember my first broken bone.
I can still remember my first broken *****
That could be what this is all about.
Mary, Mary, you can be contrite,
so knife – so critter – so laze – so stalked.
Who fertilized your seeds? Who reared your sprouts?
Cockle shells and silver bells, honey,
can’t grow up
to be pretty little maids all in a row.
Sterile teddy nightgowns – green bells in gaseous gardens.
Friend Rockstar, you may have to sleep.
This restless harbor is a shivering anecdote spilled from a belly,
a vast, deep cavern with love notes written in milk.
Your fried, stern smile was a flaking fingernail adjacent to the crack in the flowerpot.
Some garden, I say.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 7:12 PM UTC
At times people in this life
Are quite petty, full of spite
Why can't they open their
Hearts and their eyes
Reach acknowledgement
That to make others suffer
Is not so contrite
Turn acts of hatred into love
Put others first
Find selfishness and spite
Are useless emotions, no need to always be right
Masterfully human nature
Can strive to rise above
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
1Peter 4:8-9
Above all keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins. Show hospitality to one another without grumbling.
Oct 15, 2016
Oct 15, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC
she hovers over the handwritten letter
with maniacal grin gripping her face
as she devours his texted words
with weeping eyes
and she sings in unnatural tones a child's lullaby in some
forgotten french dialect
delightful reflections in song of the garden gate
leaning broken onto the rough hewn path
where the soulless cherubs cherish their seed
in haphazard rows cherub faces sling silent tears
and labour at the desires never felt and
the dark soils never fertile
seeking redemptions in the rebirth of the harvest moon
which decorates the far wall of the tomb
the cherubs brief delighted laughters
soon sputter and fail
as in the dying light of day
reveals that they must labour yet another day
to no useful end
she lives in this place
a cottage of straw with dark windows
and a wood stained door
she sits on its porch with knitting in hand
weaving futures for her beloved cherubs
weaving pasts for her own
she devoured him like she did his words
and came home to roost
like her innocent faced dragoons
she will someday march forth with this army of doom
but today she is content to be contrite
knitting porridge and whey wall hangings
from the tables of the
steampunk princess
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
God of our fathers, known of old—
Lord of our far-flung battle line—
Beneath whose awful hand we hold
Dominion over palm and pine—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
The tumult and the shouting dies—
The Captains and the Kings depart—
Still stands Thine ancient sacrifice,
An humble and a contrite heart.
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
Far-called our navies melt away—
On dune and headland sinks the fire—
Lo, all our pomp of yesterday
Is one with Nineveh and Tyre!
Judge of the Nations, spare us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
If, drunk with sight of power, we loose
Wild tongues that have not Thee in awe—
Such boastings as the Gentiles use,
Or lesser breeds without the Law—
Lord God of Hosts, be with us yet,
Lest we forget—lest we forget!
For heathen heart that puts her trust
In reeking tube and iron shard—
All valiant dust that builds on dust,
And guarding calls not Thee to guard.
For frantic boast and foolish word,
Thy Mercy on Thy People, Lord!
Amen.
2.9k
Each day, my thoughts speak of you,
And even in my replies, you are there.
What of your enchantment have to do
With speaking of your name not to spare?
It's but you --
Making me sing without contrite,
Never the fire for few;
Always a part of my source of light.
More and more to do,
Fatigue makes me carry the world;
But more and more my love for you
Overpowers my strength and worth.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
As the Phoenix rose from her ashes
And the Dragon silenced his roar
The distant lighting flashes
And he swoons as he watches her soar
For he had seen never something so bright
She burned with a fire that could not be doused
In this the Dragon felt contrite
And all her enemies the Phoenix would roust
She had this way about her, something so soothing and warm
Legend told of her beauty and intensity
And how she could calm every storm
The Dragon enjoyed her propensity
He found her beautiful, alluring and strong
The Dragon was mesmerized by her brilliance
She sang such a beautiful song
She exalted such resilience
The Dragon could not help but sing along
Though the Phoenix may have her battles, she will always win the war
For the Dragon sees the warrior
And her magic quiets his roar
So the Dragon is no longer a worrier
She moves in a way that's enticing
With every move that she makes
The Dragon will never abandon her
No matter how hard the ground quakes
The Phoenix is a one of a kind
An answer to a prayer
There is no greater light that the Dragon could find
Than the beauty of the Phoenix's flare
May 23, 2020
May 23, 2020 at 8:43 AM UTC
Walk across the marshes
View from the distance
into the streets of London
The downtrodden man,
contrite and solemn,
with weathered shoes
and a weathered soul
Walk in his shoes,
View through his eyes
into the streets of desperation
The downtrodden man,
worn and hungry,
with no bread to eat
and no cent to his name
Walk beside him,
View of his world,
into the street of questions
The downtrodden man,
simple and depraved,
with not an answer
and no life to live
Walk to his grave,
View of his stone
into the streets of nothing
The downtrodden man,
asleep and alone,
with no one to care
and no one to see
Aug 5, 2015
Aug 5, 2015 at 5:48 PM UTC
Feelings subside when ****** from a straw.
Worn down and white until left with no more.
"Fill me with sweets, and your honey kissed vernacular tonight."
but to me, I find that those who need ego-stroking will run me out of my high.
They tell me that my thoughts and actions will leave my young mind contrite and fretting.
Yet curiosity survives formal education,
so even with this piece of coded information
i still wanted to commit the crime and enter a realm of affirmation
The one that only you emulate
one of strong will
hope
and pretty flowered daisy chains
But in all reality , i am to stay here.
holding my own hand side by side,
watching stranger's fingers intertwine along side in syncopated time
during what, though divergent in style,was promised to be my 'glory days'...
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC
In my heart I am a knight
A man born to strive for right
The world likes to worship might
But I have seen a brighter light
I have been blessed with clearer sight
The world has been filled with blight
That makes the day as black as night
Which head of the hydra do I fight?
Thank God He is on a higher height
I need only serve and be contrite
For he will redeem all his broken wights
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 2:45 PM UTC
Old memories preserved in black and white.
Reminisce of a time less contrite.
Seen through the lens of those without strife.
Young and free with a passion for life.
Replaced by wisdom, fear and guilt.
For the life one has methodically built.
With walls and doors, and windows to see.
As the world passes by this absentee.
Surrounded by frames of the finest wood.
Of snapshots of the potential that someday could.
Climb the mountains unreached by the hands of our time.
Instead stuck walking for fear of the climb.
For fear of the fall and all it might bring.
Fear of the inability to rebuild his wings.
Compliant with gravity, compliant with normality.
Unfamiliar with the rebellion that once filled his soul.
Defining his life where their now is a hole.
Replaced by a scar and filled with his tears.
As the joys of his childhood continue to disappear.
Chased away by the light of reality.
Youthful dreams replaced in actuality.
Ambitions refocused towards sensuality.
Mind made up of generalities.
Soul defined in spirituality.
As his life moves slowly into irrationality.
And though the colors here are always bright.
They are most vulnerable in the absent of light.
Replaced by the darkness and a mind numbing truth.
One we all have forgotten from our youth.
That the potential of life knows no bounds.
And that which we can create will always astound.
Those who come after us and those who continue to follow.
Will continue to fill our world as if it was hollow.
In need of filling with that which they create.
Building from our ashes on a brand new slate.
Their artistry challenged only by those.
Who have left footprints in the sand with their bare toes.
So which life do you wish to live.
One of solitude or one where you continue to give.
Give your time, give your energy, give your heart and your soul.
To the child in you whom you continue to out grow.
Continue to neglect who’s dreams have yet to be filled.
By the world you once dreamed of with those Legos you use to build.
Dreams filled with sky scrapers all in black and white.
Only to be interrupted by mornings first light.
Life’s colors seeping in as they begin to fill your days.
Your youthful ambitions still here in many ways.
Still clinging to you through those memories of yesteryear.
Captured in your childish smile radiating so clear.
Feb 19, 2012
Feb 19, 2012 at 9:33 PM UTC
There’s a sage at the doorway
Negating affinity as a leeway.
He never spoke to me though he’s there
I shunned the thought lest I did care.
Grew up in envy
To those – they never saw right through me;
How I yearned for that man’s attention
And from others’ sage I longed discretion.
A battle occupied his thought,
A war seldom won, constantly fought.
For such warrior was taken abashed
Looked at me, ‘I can’t take you back.’
Grounded within me was the silence,
Left and right I sought for solace.
Never sure if could amount to anything in his eyes,
Until I found out he too was never sought off despite.
Desperate - in a sense
As I took hold of a pretense;
Had not the Divine stoop down to reclaim
What I had yearned for the sage, I blamed.
A treble in my throat croaked, “Father”
Despite holding grudge I never bothered
Spoke nor utter a thought in my mind.
There, I froze with teeth to the grind.
Truth encountered my despot idealism,
Tried hard to renounce the criticism.
It’s weight – truth only subjugated my hate;
“Love – unless you embrace it, cannot placate”
Fell on my knees, armor exhausted itself around,
Wrung over my shoulders arms of the One who found
Me clinging on the border of insight and despair,
Only His Will my broken, calloused heart molds into repair.
I glanced back at the sage, I met yearning eyes,
Sought he, his worth for me and found no despise.
All along, had I known, he too was a broken and contrite;
Would not I, received much bestow what is right?
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 7:45 PM UTC
Her countenance,
had long given up the ghost
Twilight tried to allay the ravelling .
She needed resilience,
for those fiery Sunday visits
endured by her confused Son.
Trumping by prevarication,
until no more, she retorted.
Her honeysuckle dreams
turn ramshackle.
Those plumes of bonfire smoke
before and the after, differ now
on contrite compost.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
Dear Gawd......I wanna be Pope..
I never ride backwards
on train or bus,
I never profane,
blaspheme or cuss,
I'm limpid,
riven of diaphanous stuff
never been given,
to a female ****
I'm penitent, contrite –
shriven of sin,
compliant, reliant,
I'm bendy n thin.
not quite castrato,
gives good vibrato
to choirboys mullato
with bellybutton fluff.
Nov 11, 2011
Nov 11, 2011 at 2:19 PM UTC
(Isaiah, lvii.15)
The Lord will happiness divine
On contrite hearts bestow;
Then tell me, gracious God, is mine
A contrite heart or no?
I hear, but seem to hear in vain,
Insensible as steel;
If aught is felt, 'tis only pain,
To find I cannot feel.
I sometimes think myself inclined
To love Thee if I could;
But often feel another mind,
Averse to all that's good.
My best desires are faint and few,
I fain would strive for more;
But when I cry, "My strength renew!"
Seem weaker than before.
Thy saints are comforted, I know,
And love Thy house of prayer;
I therefore go where others go,
But find no comfort there.
Oh make this heart rejoice or ache;
Decide this doubt for me;
And if it be not broken, break --
And heal it, if it be.
1.9k
Loneliness is a shadowy hand
That reaches deep into the night,
Clutching our hearts, awakening our pain,
Reminding us of our wretched plight
(Without feeling the least bit contrite)
What a cruel master is Loneliness,
Each night it connives with the moon,
Urging her to mock and deride our pain,
While we cry, and our hearts lie in ruin
(To our pain and woe they're both immune)
Born of an evil, uncaring source
Loneliness has but one intent:
To deliver its pain and agony
To our hearts, causing endless torment
(Turning a deaf ear to our lament)
Loneliness can change a smiling face
To one filled with panic and fear;
Tearful eyes that once reflected Love
Tell Loneliness what it longs to hear:
(We have lost the one we held most dear)
But Loneliness has one fearless foe
That always ensures its defeat:
Love appears, rendering its deadly blow,
Knocking Loneliness right off its feet
(What other battle could be as sweet?)
Alas! Loneliness will not be deterred,
It knows the ways of Love are fleeting,
How patiently it waits in the shadows
To pounce when it sees Love retreating!
(And the dead heart goes right on beating)
Jan 31, 2017
Jan 31, 2017 at 10:57 AM UTC
it seems too contrite
to think that it is a revelation
that life can change in a single instant
like the fraction of a second
the blink of an eye
when the world goes dark and
you forget that you can
actually see
but i get stuck there
knocked out of this reality
and thrown headlong
onto the asphalt that
doesn't give way for
my crystalline bones and
tear-stained face
how can this not be real
when the pain is inescapable
taking up residence
in each secret crevice of
my war-torn self
and i can't run
with these compound fractures
ivory bone peeking through
my crimson stained skin
my spilt blood somehow
reabsorbing into my pores
trying to return home
but those cells are outlaws
they've been expelled
exiled and it feels like
they are now more a part of
the obsidian ground around me
where i've lost myself
where no one can reach me
i'm behind a mirror
hidden in a plume of smoke
and my agony
my suffering cannot be touched
or sublimated into ether
where i can die
and all the world will note
is the lack of my return
to the reality of
the world around them
so concrete they would
never imagine the
tenuous connection that we share
a fishing line that
i rely on
that i wrap around my fist
until it cuts to the bone
and i am certain that
it cannot be pulled away
but i lose it
i grasp desperately
to pull it back into the
wounds where it
fits like that's where it was
created to inhabit
and when i'm empty
when i'm not bleeding
from self-inflicted
gunshot wounds
and razor slices that
never seem to fall
deep enough
to remind me that i'm
still alive
to spread bloodstains
and confirm the
strange world around me
is actually reality
and that i am a part of it
because most of the time
i feel like an interloper
an alien species
and integration
is impossible.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Surpressed and hidden from my sight
God I need your voice and light
For distant memories and forgotten blight
I've been weak and shut them from sight
Easier for me to hide
And pretend, in no realm, do they abide
Kept secret so long it's hard to confide
I fear they'll excuse my faulter's side
Ignore my plight
I'll feel contrite
Convinced I've shown a twisted light
But NO! My words are not twisted
Though my eyes they have misted
My heart is a knot
The truth is rot
They may hide their face but I will not
I ache to stand and say, at least that I have fought
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 1:51 PM UTC
Since your life revolves around winning and losing
Let me help you boast
I lost, you defeated me - to thee I toast
You do not drink? Or do you?
I'm now certain you never speak the truth
Fooling some, but shocking others
To me, you are no Ruth
Loyal to no one but the voice in your head
That constantly feeds your perfection
I'm aware of my flaws
Perhaps that you see as our connection
It saddens me that you won't let me help
You're the other side of the mirror
From a time not so long ago
When I faked a life that made me shiver
You may be older
But twice the life I've lived
I'm well-versed in the school of life
No longer contrite nor miffed
Harmony and peace you say you represent
Not from the angle I'm standing
Perhaps the nicer you presented
To the Buddha that I saw hovering
I'm closer than you think
Closer yet I'm sure I'll be
I'm here for the long haul lady
Not how you'd thought it would be
27 years you texted him
On the day that would've been your anniversary
The lights at our house nightly grow dim
Celebrating our paperversary
You accuse those around you
Of the very things you do in time
Protective of your home?
How was your tour of mine?
Happy **** day, thinking of you
Love you still always have, always will
Why these things you find necessary to send
To someone who now is mine after you threw him away
Mistakes is how I see these inappropriate outbursts
Made by you or regretted by you
At the very least a charm to feed your enjoyment
Quite the bracelet worn to pay your dues
Heavy enough to hold down your wrist
But no not in this circumstance
Hate and discontent
Part of your ebb and flow your pageant stance
I suppose I'll continue to study you
Helps me in my course of study
Psychology and Criminal Justice
My special project, not my buddy
Making the most of what has crossed my path
As long as you keep coming at me
Another page to my thesis you'll add
Prayers for us both, survival to thee
Tomorrow's another day
The Lord versing me in forgiveness
Personal success for me come what may
December 13, 2013
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 11:31 AM UTC
Let me sink my fangs into you
To stop me from turning blue
Let me get to what's within
What lies beneath your skin
Like a vampire
Your sweetness I need to acquire
Let me drink before I expire
Don't let me pass from this world and retire
With out the sweet taste of you upon my lips
In your hands cradle my hips
As slowly into me you slip
Exploding like a rocket ship
Welcome me like the dying light
I will not leave you felling contrite
I'll make everything just right
I can excite
I can delight
Meet me my dear at midnight
Under the bright moonlight
Take me to the stars
Let us zoom past mars
Grace my veins with your intoxication
You are my only fixation
Like a drug, a need
To your power I concede
I hear your call
I'm your victim after all
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
The road to forgiveness where do we start?
We start with humility and we start with the heart.
The road to forgiveness may be a bumpy ride,
Sometimes we need to apologize yet we run and hide.
When you hold on to disappointments and your heart seems brittle and cold
Your only outcome will be that you grow miserable and old.
The road to forgiveness will interfere with your pride,
But some will become humbled and some will cry.
The Lord has forgiven us and that’s the example we need to use
If He has forgiven us then I can forgive you.
The road to forgiveness may sting in your heart
Because it’s hard to forgive once your pain does start.
The road to forgiveness we all have to take…
If heaven is our goal we should not wait.
The road to forgiveness should start with you,
Forgive yourself first before you suffer from the things that you do.
Forgiveness is about love not patience or gain
Love will heal all without placing blame.
The road to forgiveness has been paid by Christ
He set the bar high because He gave up His life.
So all we need is a humble and contrite heart
Let’s learn to be forgiving before our anger starts.
The road to forgiveness is not the easiest road to take
Especially when you are a victim and your heart seems to break,
You wonder why you should make the very first step
When, because of others, you were sad and you wept.
So my friends holding onto bitterness will never bless you
If that’s the unfortunate road that you willingly choose.
This is good old wisdom and I’m not trying to be clever
I advise you to use forgiveness and be blessed forever.
Sep 4, 2012
Sep 4, 2012 at 4:53 PM UTC
~
*Are we all the same distance apart?
Are we nocturnal
because we buy into
rhythmic disturbance,
trying to find a memory
in a dark room?
In shadow of advancing myth,
there's evidence of hunters
in the glowlight,
with wings outstretched,
solitary and contrite,
we cut the night,
we cut the night.
From sticks to bitterness,
we cut the night,
we cut the night.*
~
Jan 22, 2024
Jan 22, 2024 at 2:04 PM UTC