"debased" poems
ThePoet's challenge
easy lose/hard gain
A part of your heart surely dies
When a loved one tells a lie
Trust is easily debased
And is not easily replaced!
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
When some proud son of man returns to earth,
Unknown to glory, but upheld by birth,
The sculptor’s art exhausts the pomp of woe
And storied urns record who rest below:
When all is done, upon the tomb is seen,
Not what he was, but what he should have been:
But the poor dog, in life the firmest friend,
The first to welcome, foremost to defend,
Whose honest heart is still his master’s own,
Who labours, fights, lives, breathes for him alone,
Unhonour’d falls, unnoticed all his worth—
Denied in heaven the soul he held on earth:
While Man, vain insect! hopes to be forgiven,
And claims himself a sole exclusive Heaven.
Oh Man! thou feeble tenant of an hour,
Debased by slavery, or corrupt by power,
Who knows thee well must quit thee with disgust,
Degraded mass of animated dust!
Thy love is lust, thy friendship all a cheat,
Thy smiles hypocrisy, thy words deceit!
By nature vile, ennobled but by name,
Each kindred brute might bid thee blush for shame.
Ye! who perchance behold this simple urn,
Pass on—it honours none you wish to mourn:
To mark a Friend’s remains these stones arise;
I never knew but one,—and here he lies.
4.4k
West reality made so
that people forced to consume
whatever material or unmaterial goods
here any protest is legalised
in form of demo
which is necessary surround by police
northeless there are people exist who are illegal
beside of refugees from east lands
there also socalled insane people
who are locked in closed loony bin
or hunted like amok
untill they really get insane
if you take separately each after other
their fate and observe it precise
you will find there all the evil of
patriarchal repression
what is the consequence of capitalism
patriarchal repression
which is so masterfully comuflaged in west
but since the victims, the renegades live on rand of society
no one ever take their lifes and deaths under lenses
just example:
feminists dont fight for the rights of the debased woman
in their neigbourhood
but just speculate about arbitrageness in Iran
not ever able to change something in afar lands
they simply ignore evil which happens beside them
every day, every night
there is pseudo-publicity in capitalism
since those who rebel against
become mostly so oppressed
that they never ever get any chance to
speak out loud
and revenge!
While those anarchists and punks
who squats in city and towns
will never give political asylum
to the one who's life circumtances
penetrate to be betrayed by friends
living on the streets and parks
and hunted by psychiatry
during anarchists and punks are not
real activists of underground
but just kind of subculture
which live quite comfortably in capitalism
it just funky to be anarchist or punk
and nobody knows how they will act
in critical situation
I lost my believe on socalled leftists
in fact they are same equal part of society
like bankers or yuppies
with a difference that they
pretend they still had some ideals!
known to many
believed by the few as
the truth
Accordingly my individual struggle their claim
is nothing as fallacy
whom believe? Whom with resist in action?
Where hides real iconoclasts?
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 6:04 AM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
Writhing, violent rebellion
Systems shutting down
Uncontrollable behavior
Powerless, I frown
Fresh wounds by the second
Digesting razor blades
Flickering old habits
Born of old flames
Shredding softest weakness
Corroding iron strength
Nothing will escape
Mind snaps, and bends
Healing salve corrupted
Swallow all the same
Eradicates stomach lining
Emptiness becomes pain
Consciousness cradled
Craven slumber, debased
Maybe this time
Maybe - !
Maybe not.
Sep 16, 2025
Sep 16, 2025 at 9:12 PM UTC
We, too, had known golden hours
When body and soul were in tune,
Had danced with our true loves
By the light of a full moon,
And sat with the wise and good
As tongues grew witty and gay
Over some noble dish
Out of Escoffier;
Had felt the intrusive glory
Which tears reserve apart,
And would in the old grand manner
Have sung from a resonant heart.
But, pawed-at and gossiped-over
By the promiscuous crowd,
Concocted by editors
Into spells to befuddle the crowd,
All words like Peace and Love,
All sane affirmative speech,
Had been soiled, profaned, debased
To a horrid mechanical screech.
No civil style survived
That pandaemonioum
But the wry, the sotto-voce,
Ironic and monochrome:
And where should we find shelter
For joy or mere content
When little was left standing
But the suburb of dissent?
3.1k
STRIPPED
I like the concept of being stripped,
**** I have been stripped of so much stuff!
I remember the first time someone tried stripping my dignity away.
When they tried stomping my dreams in my ribs,
trying to strip down my power, because, I was a girl.
The time, I superseded all expectations because
they thought I was dumb.
But through it all, I knew, what I was made of,
and stripped them of the desire of seeing me washed away.
I have stripped my soul until it touched the concrete,
Seeing my face plastered bare and in awe,
Laying there, wondering when the stripping would end!
Feeling debased by my own kind,
They try to filter me and I tried to comply,
But, my justice wanted a voice,
And my spirit-like a Phoenix rose
The shame kicked in and the shackles tightened a bit more,
The disappointment started a little chatter,
it got louder and louder,
I found myself fighting them and fighting me,
....but I didn’t give in,
The stripping continues, oh would it ever end?!!
I’ve gotten rid of anything that would get in my way,
Peeling away all the layers of garbage imposed on me;
That refrain my liberty,
that gets me father from my dream,
Realizing that in being stripped...
I rescued the little girl that almost died inside of me!
LeydisProse
1/15/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse/
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
Like Falcons, Kestrels and Hawks
They swoop low to look and stalk
Holding breath for silence sakes
Looking for gullible easy prey
Talons around the throats of the genteel and shy
Uncaring of flowing tears, they make them cry
Recalling a sunny day so bright
When clawed and swooped in delight
Not knowing the heart that would break
That day, piercing ties did penetrate
Learning others spirits would wound
As the Falcon made his way around the night for doom
As his blackness did loom
All were hurt, tears were shed
Face after face he did skim
Heart rending cries that were abhor
For them no tears no more
Never spoken to again, they might
the evil kin do they despise
Torment and cruelty they do throw'
Gnashing one's teeth thinking about ado,
Bruises of blue they carry, bleeding of heart
A cold sweat trickling down the spine, apart.
Take away the face oh please
leave life alone, let all be in peace
Pain and heartache that created, O' bemoan
Saying and caring, oh no just want to be left alone ...
For the uninitiated, lonely hearts
Lending tears of sorrow, leaving soul debased
Romance here, a wild goose chase
Holds so many as the Falcons swoop again ...
Debbie Brooks 2014
Sep 11, 2014
Sep 11, 2014 at 7:49 PM UTC
(
)
(
)
(
)
\/
/\
/ \
::::::
On the ground
Bombs exploding
The soldier is 19
•
All for a touch of god
///
The money being made by elite corporations
////
The utterly debased country being torn down
As the people watch it all on television
///
The mothers !
The fathers !
Friends !
///
LeBron James
///
He signed with Cleveland
///
What do think !
/::/
On the ground
The 19 year old soldier moves around
Then he stops moving
//
I think Cleveland will win the CHAMPIONSHIP
//
What do you think ?
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
*why do people always pain themselves to write as if they could ever be understood, when so few read them, and even a fewer number care to understand? and why do so many ably bodied ******* themselves with writing? why have they lost the taste for fresh air and instead chose a wheelchair that writing is?*
in legal terms - are you implying a play on synonyms or
just simply stating: d'uh, i don't know what
that means? ah, a limitation on the vocabulary,
an atypical symptom of lawyers - when socrates attacked
eloquence per se, he also defeated himself
by ensuring law abided by the law of highest eloquence,
and the rabble got diddly-squat, his attack on rhetoricians
lost the prowess of attracting debased educators
with himself the most debased educator:
and instead attracted lawyers... thus the law of the eloquent,
rather than the rubric of the least eloquent...
lost an eye for an eye, lost a mouth with it too...
i rather be fed eloquence and education
and coarseness to equally educate
than be fed a justice fed by eloquence alone,
because if this is to be the equilibrating case,
then serving justice will just be a case of speaking
in a satin tongue of readied rhetoric
as justice so called,
and when speaking in a coarse tongue
no justice will be made applicable...
i rather be educated by someone in a coarse tongue
than be brought to justice by someone in an eloquent tongue,
i rather not be educated by someone in an eloquent tongue /
i rather be brought to justice by someone in a coarse tongue
(the mob),
at least the coarse tongue is well equipped to
address the many who require educating,
unlike the eloquent tongue equipped to
address itself and itself alone, rather than addressing
the jury who blindly pass judgement, because
the lawyer's tongue is not in the mouth of the defendant
but in the lawyer's mirror of social strata of respectability
appearing so guiding, kindly tying a bow-tie of applause.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
First came the German Shepherd dogs
Next came the water hose
Bodies lynched, then set ablaze
Flesh singed, then meshed with clothes
Innocent black lives lost, on a blood stained Poplar tree
Even now, I hear the Slave Overseer's words
Echo inside me - echoing epigenetically
****** run, ****** die, ****** free"
I am he whose antecedents
Suffered and survived the Middle Passage's arduous trip
I am the progeny who sprang forth from their chained *****
As human chattel, my antecedents suffered the sting of the whip
Their humanity, dignity and pride
Was debased and denied
Deracinated, their bodies were beaten black and blue
But it was the bruises inside, they tried, but could not hide
Innocent black lives lost, victims of the lynching rope
Even now, I hear the Slave Overseer's words
Echo inside me - echoing epigenetically
****** run, ****** die, ****** hope"
I say again, I am he whose antecedents
Suffered and survived the Middle Passage's arduous trip
I am the progeny who sprang forth from their shackled *****
As human chattel, my antecedents suffered the cabotage of a slave ship
In 1964, they were granted civil rights, but denied civility
A denial rooted in the flowering bloom of racial hate
And the verdant lushness of white supremacy's wicked fertility
So many innocent black lives lost
Because of "Negative Eugenic's" lies and untruths
Even now, I hear the Slave Overseer's words
Echo inside me - echoing epigenetically
****** run, ****** die, ****** choose"
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
Cadaverous crotchety gouged out eyes.
Scalped trite and malnourished minds.
Where am I? What has this land become?
My vessel is gutted galled and splayed out upon the enflamed remains of our democracy.
I try to embody the equanimity peaceful qualities of the lulling Gandhi characters before me...
But **** I am angry, jolted and saturated in shock in fear.
Being an advocate for the people so dismissively marginalized, is what brings substance to my life.
I look into the eyes of my mirthful clients and future students, my heart winces.
How did I allow this to happen to you?
A man who so boastfully incinerates and debased the citizens of our land with his farcical vitriol, is no man at all but merely an unsightly shrew, cozily cosseted in his world of soot and pooh.
The bosky gorgeous land we inhabit sobs in noxious fright.
To be despoiled and berated as some "natural right" splintered and tainted to allow the green cash river flow into the dubious maw of the man with no dignity to show.
A man who preens such a degenerated mindset is only aptest to a society in shambles.
Our global haimish home yearns for the equilibrium from which it was born.
In such a seeded tumultuous time my heart is seeped in reverberating sorrow.
Let your love and purity coat your vessel, do not let this barbaric man permeate your soul.
Hold steadfast to the testament of our land
True revolution is budded from a web of genuine connection, not devise brandished weapons.
Don't shroud yourself in misery, break free and be prepared to encite love with your authenticity.
Nov 9, 2016
Nov 9, 2016 at 1:57 AM UTC
Love too strong for
those who bear it
is a curse invoked
by a deficit of worth.
It is not enough to
seek validation through
a proxy designated
Heaven on Earth.
With no center of gravity,
no anchor in character,
obsession is the limit
of the capacity to love;
Projecting impossible
desires and untenable
expectations amounts
to blasphemy of.
True love may not be
forever or easy;
parting may never
be pleasant to bear;
Love is not merely
what's pleasing or comfortable;
love is a crucible;
love is not fair.
Those fleeting failures
and moments of error
are chances at triumph,
a challenge to change.
Breaking our boundaries,
ballooning outward:
love is inevitably
savage and strange.
Unbefitting to cling
to the bridge that enables
a star in its wand'ring
to cross the abyss;
To carry the ballast
of vast insecurity
over that chasm,
untenable risk;
Or swallow the poison
of foolish dependence
on whimsical paramours,
obesiance thereof,
To be hung from the neck
by detestable premises,
weak and debased
by untenable love.
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 8:10 PM UTC
I am captivated by the pattern of a tiled staircase where fountain pens scribe forbidden texts upon spiral bannisters which lead to debased psychological states.
Do we have permission on this stage of trajectory, to fire statements into unfathomable corridors, which surpass today into the realms of tomorrow?
Dark figures writhe in the thick fog of eclectic séances.
I have engaged in nightly astral flights down the streets of blatant innocence.
Are you standing on the inside?
Bring me back from what is deemed to be modernity and bypass my voltage where uncertain predictability is a predictable uncertainty.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
**I
Found
The
Belladonna
In Nana’s bedside drawer
I slipped some in my pocket
To even up a score
Later
He came knocking
With that smirk upon his face
Yet another ****** night of being
Defiled
and
Debased**
*My
Lovely
I
Call
My wicked
Ways are always here
Taking you for granted
Having my way
Because
There is
Nothing
You
Can do*
**I set the scene
In such
An
Alluring
Seductive
Way**
Fool
**Thought I was finally coming out to play
Incense swayed
Candles burned
He drank the drink
Then
Tables turned
Vermillion visions slice through the stagnant air
Cleansing me of
Ignorance
Naivety
Despair**
*She doesn't know
That bottle of wine
That
We
Drink
That her
Glass
Holds
A Cyanide pill
So
This smile
She thinks
Is
For
seduction
Hides
The plans
In
My
Head*
**Something’s not quite right
I have a
Strange sensation
Why am I experiencing
Hell
Fire
&
Damnation
Evil starts to slither on my heated skin
Maybe he just slipped me a ***** Mickey Finn?
Feeling now bedeviled
I take another sip of wine
Bachus sits there laughing
Regal and divine**
*Where did this migraine come from?
But I am here laughing
As she drinks her fall
**** I feel sleepy
Could she have?
No!
She wouldn't be that shrewd
Women can't out think a man
So she smiles with me
Rubbing her eyes
I ask her to dance
It will be her last dance*
**I sense strong arms caress me
Music fills the air
Fluidity of movement
Lays my soul stark bare
I beseech the cold dark eyes of this man that I abhor
As
We
Slowly
Slowly
Slowly
.
.
.
Concertina to the floor**
Sep 29, 2010
Sep 29, 2010 at 6:25 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
Stone hall with concrete walls
Perched with colours of the crown
Ripped down for united minds
Dole queue patriots hyped with delusions of grandeur
Camped upon corners, moaning ****** ******
Laying claim to title of white line champions
Still the law sheath batons
Sharing guarded desire
With debased brethren
So united the occupied stand
Defying foreign lords who oppress ancestral land
Awaiting the day the crown falls defiled
And high flies the green, white and gold.
Apr 16, 2015
Apr 16, 2015 at 6:55 PM UTC
no emotionally ecstatic experience compares
to the seminal instance
whence spermatozoa
(from profuse *********** beget
the miraculous propensity
to procreate despite the steep odds
female fertility fosters potential impregnation
fusing the hereditary debt
of feral, fiery, fomenting friskiness
fueling fancy free footloose fornication
prior to seminal fertilization union
sans ova doth induce fret
full ness in tandem with
diametrically opposed exultant sensations
(biologically, embryonically, microscopically,
et cetera) seismic shocks inject
when deliberate intent arises to disregard
applying prophylactics choice
plying reproductive roulette let
which analogous fruitful uterine plain
bastes the "cooking" egg omelette
which impregnation upends cessation of "self"
first and foremost asper desire to breed
wrenching role of "me" as operative
of webbed world de jure upon
consummating that most miraculous deed
necessitating yet for the fecund female relief
from messy menstrual cycle
she becomes temporarily freed
that perhaps a novitiate (or even a gal practiced
in the euphoric family, she instinctually
abides prenatal signals that heed
without feeling debased, harangued, lectured
pedagogical, polemical, puritanical, et cetera blast
assessing copulation enjoyed gloriously,
ineluctably, kinesthetically
lectured by elder, especially cast
in thee reel life drama, that nine months
til offspring utters initial whimper
elapses exceptionally fast
emitting a radiant golden halo wishing
to bottle confluence of hormonal secretions last
ideally fully awake to the birthing process,
when juiced the first stage of maternity past
cuz every moment thee inconsolably
(perhaps colicky infant)
gets first dibs to suckle,
which round the clock nursing
consumes moments many vast.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 1:11 AM UTC
“Fiat” in Latin means “let it be done”
Yes, a “binding edict” for everyone
So “fiat money” means “by decree”
THE approved money for you and me
“Fiat lux” means “Let there be light”
God said the words, God has the right
But fiat money by leaders decreed
Abuses that role - if inflating by greed
Dollars are printing by trillions, it’s true
And all decreed money is inflating too
If “by decree” - debased money we use
Much of its value we can and do lose
Now you can use a “money” that’s new
Not “by decree”, so it’s freeing for you
Bitcoin is money that plays by the rules
Safe and predictable - no one it fools
The money printing, controlled by a few
Takes from the rest - not much we can do
You can use Bitcoin, by choice - not decree
Let’s make the choice - so we can be free
Jan 29, 2022
Jan 29, 2022 at 9:29 AM UTC
She steps into the room,
Timidity and grace;
Innocence and caution synchronized.
She feels you watching her
And quickly turns away-
But it's too late,
She's been defiled by your eyes.
She's just another pretty girl
On whom to feast your eyes-
Another helpless victim to your gaze.
It doesn't matter what she wears,
It doesn't matter what she hides-
The second you set eyes on her,
She becomes your latest prey.
A slave to your senses,
You mother ******* perv!
I hate you and all your twisted ways.
A ******* of duplicity-
A ravenous, worthless curr-
Twisted in your soul
And ****** up in your brain!
'Cause you've got X-ray vision,
And you **** her with your mind;
Defile her with your very gaze.
You strip her down and play with her,
Debauched within your mind;
Violated, objectified, debased.
Oct 15, 2017
Oct 15, 2017 at 2:47 AM UTC
battered screws stripped bare by
a hundred thousand terrible twists
from an unsteady, inexperienced,
or overly excited hand
nearly rattling out of their proper positions,
hanging rather loosely
to the last threads of their holes.
fan them as they dangle,
fandangle!
but a blue gust from beneath
the anonymous and unidentifiable bursts
the shriveled scraps of low-grade steel
from their brittle perches
and
then one,
two,
threefourfivesixseventyeightmillion
clatterings invade all audibility,
heightening --- accentuating --- underscoring
each miniscule soundwave
until there is not much more than
white noise, crack-
ling like a ruddy transitor radio
i probably never had
but only equate it to for lack of
another more proper, perhaps more appropriate,
even more...profound (?) word, or, whatever;
hardware indignationum!
what abuses we dish these inanimates created by us for us!, and, yes,
i follow all syncretic trends to
their phenomenal (and fusional)
morphological ends. if i didn't, how could
i know the neutered from the neuterer?
attend to the screws;
the debased, bemused, once-bedazzled little bits strewn on the floor and
frazzled. go on,
get 'em up, up
off the ground.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 1:27 PM UTC
A final letter I'll write,
For everyone to read,
For when I'm gone,
I will no longer impede.
A gun to the head would work,
But then so would a noose -
Tie it, hang it, and leave it for later.
Oh no, this is too loose.
I wish I could unsee it,
I wish I could unhear it,
I wish it never happened -
And I don't want to believe it.
Talking to her,
It's all a blur ,
For during every session,
I weep through her slurs.
I have been debased,
I have been misplaced,
And every time I see her face -
I feel like an absolute.
Disgrace.
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 7:36 PM UTC
“We are the US government”
We can print out of thin air
Mister Sherman says aloud
Which should be quite a scare
But yet he says of Bitcoin
(Amazing that he can dare)
That bitcoin isn’t valuable
But created from thin air
Bitcoin has a cost to make
A cost that can’t compare
To fiat’s cheap and easy flow
Debasing the saver’s share
Thank you Mister Sherman
For making us all aware
Of your Cantillon privilege
Printing money from thin air
Study what a bitcoin costs
To make one - with work & care
And you’ll see Bitcoin’s value
Come join and get a share
Thank you Mister Sherman
For helping us to prepare
As our dollars get debased
Since they’re printed from thin air
May 17, 2023
May 17, 2023 at 11:54 AM UTC
When I die alone
When you finally come home
There will be no point
(Us) We'll be long gone
As kids we thought we could
So we left each other behind
Surely someone else would enter our mind
The pain we've pinned to the wall
But our love we said it wasn't real, we let it fall
Cowardly, debased we withdrew
All the while salvation we knew, not
Disappearing from each other
Can we alone hold over?
When I die alone
When you finally come home
There will be no point
(Us) We'll be long gone
Emaciated by our hunger and our fear
We forgot how to bare, how to fight
How to fly in love not in fear
Our gears were disengaged
When we lost our mind
Our lovely thoughts were caged
Moving froward, our past is lost
How much did our insecurities cost?
When my love has lost its host
And your mind, my heart's trust
Then I will die alone
When you finally come home
There will be no point
(Us) We'll be long gone
Aug 15, 2012
Aug 15, 2012 at 9:00 PM UTC