"defection" poems
"The Three Kisses
The Kiss Of Hello
The Kiss That Is Never Just A Kiss
The Kiss That Spikes Vein With Precision Orchestra
The Kiss That Heals In Entirety
The Kiss That Hides The Relent Of Vex
The Kiss That Suffocates Rusting Man
The Kiss Without Detail/Ed System)
The Kiss That Pounds Each Pore To State Of ******
The Kiss That Hiroshimates Euphoria
The Kiss That Approximates/Parallels Living
The Kiss Only
The Kiss, The Kiss
The Kiss Of Neither Hello Nor Goodbye
The Kiss For The Sake
The Kiss To Save Face
The Distracted Kiss For/Of Domestic Bliss
The Kiss To Bathe Mania In Generic ****** The Kiss Of The Motions
The Kiss Of Searing Content, Hindering Suffocation And Blasé Defection
The Default Kiss, The Efficient Kiss, The Alteria (Motive) Kiss
The Kiss That Makes Sense
The New Language Of Kiss
Le Kiss, Le Kiss
The Kiss Of Goodbye
The Kiss That Is Never Just A Kiss
The Kiss That Spikes Vein With Precision Orchestra
The Kiss That Deals In Hypocrisy
The Kiss That Begins And Ends Each Second
Job, Health, Kiss, Marriage, Car, Security, Kiss,
Yearn, Enjoyment, Loss, Holiday, Kiss, Loss Holiday Kiss
The Kiss That Hiroshimates Plague
The Kiss That Parallels Living/Approximates Rage
The Memory Of Kiss Acidifies Brain
The Kiss, The Kiss, The End.
Jun 29, 2016
Jun 29, 2016 at 10:48 AM UTC
in football it's Dallas
with it's lone silver star
in baseball it's Atlanta
Ted's Super Station reaches far
basketball is a toss up
between east and west coast
the Lakers have flashy Magic
Irish Celtics of Bird they boast
hockey is another story
the Canadians have it there
but Gretzky's defection to LA
is an answer to a King's prayer
Lion King:
I Just Can't Wait to Be King
jbm
NYC
9/15/88
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 10:23 PM UTC
A sleep so sound
As to only wake
The dreams of others
Where armstice
Is given to thought
That wanders beyond
The jeweled dawn
In a defection of insensitivity
A quality of oppression
To look on beauty
And wear its lightness
In generosity, a generosity
Of mutual attraction
That bargains not for purse
But wealth much more sought
To sleep a million dreams
To bask in a different version
Of that which is the same
To have that embrace
Or metaphor entwined within
Yes and awaken with a smile
A smile, a smile, just a smile
Aug 30, 2012
Aug 30, 2012 at 6:44 PM UTC
Maiden, maiden, maiden, a depilidate mobious minaret –
Holical, Eris begs an atlatl defection, the
Genuis-from-Mars technique – an erathicus lecanopteris.
Suffretex, past-perfection in pastel gloxinia,
Glowingly acidic and shiftingly glossidic, it’s cosmaltry mariala;
Ungual outmoded, holonym singing Aquilar rapax as demiurge.
Demos and Phobos weep, coruscating terrathos, killing riva.
Swell quickly, optic ophidia, lest the ira florena rise –
Rise, maiden, rise optic ophidia, ignore Irredelphine!
Strut the hematacolpa and pace-willow, but fail flow:
Deciduous telechir beckons, demanding autobogotic-hajra.
Piss-venom and picea hovea, eche verri naught echo –
Beta-decay and COBOL error, fandango with teeth
And sing praise for Eucladanic soignè solaris
Sprint quick, maiden-solidago gesparisè, to Misra pourum!
Majerns and hapax, death-knell aloud and encelia,
Enfloranè, haste! Enatic haste tichodrome, flee, anise!
Apios, harken: tryst-sans-thermobic sweeping of thresher-thrown,
Little-low else yet achroma, de-jubilance:
Fall fairly, ayah! So to be so, blanking systemic,
A thousand steps for one death.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 12:25 PM UTC
She is the object of affection
No matter how wide the selection
She gets in your head like an infection
She"s sweeter than any confection
But there"s a certain section
That I"m vying for inspection
Please no rejection or defection
Let me make a correction
I just want a you collection
Pardon the change in inflection
But I can"t hide the ********
Because when I look in your eyes and direction
I see more than my reflection
It's simply...just perfection
Oct 8, 2012
Oct 8, 2012 at 4:06 AM UTC
I know you're not mine
But OK! its fine
Even though i can't ask you for dine
Nor for a cup of wine .
I try to be indifferent
when he holds you in his arms
Though I'm not a charm
But i know he is a harm.
I want you to be happy off course
But want to be the source
Its a paradox but personified.
The roses that I gifted you
Embellish your fair
Only if you tie in your hair.
My intentions are crystal clear
To love you and to be loved by you.
Its my heart and my will
I will spark love
In every breathe that you take.
It's my game
And it is certainly not for love fame
Great love stories in history
For me are always a mystery .
I will die in shame
The day I forget to love you
I can spend my whe life in expecting the same.
I'm optimistic
But not being realistic
I dream to conquer every
Chamber of your heart .
I don't belong to the naysayers
For I know god answer my prayers.
My glance turn into stare
How long i have to bare
This pain
Without having anything gain.
I'm on a roller coaster
That goes neither up nor down .
I'm starting to wonder
Is it because of my skin colour brown ?
My one sided affection
I want to deliver it to you without defection
The imperial affection.
The end
Naidu Chandra Pegu
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 11:29 AM UTC
I don’t know what it would be like but a man can dream,
I want to go grocery shopping with Jeandar, you know like a team.
She could drive and I would ride,
Backseat buckled bags by my side.
Where do you want to go?
Natural Pantry? Fred Meyer? Costco?
Ok well we’re gonna go get some healthy food,
Now taste this codliver oil come on don’t be rude.
Here take this bottle of oregano,
It’ll make your skin glow, dontcha know?
Can you go get the milk,
and I mean soy and it better be silk.
I’ll be in the vegetable section,
checking some asparagus for defection.
We’re not gonna get bread here,
We’re going to great harvest for real stuff dear.
Before we go grab a thing of cashews,
oh yeah and some vitamin-D too.
Have you been taking your vitamins?
Hey call Ivory and ask if she wants some treats,
We can find her some healthy snacks to eats.
Have you eaten dinner yet?
a place at the table we can still set
Make sure you wash your hands now,
That’s something I won’t disallow.
Goodnight, drive safe, call me when you get there,
Feb 15, 2011
Feb 15, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
The young lady asked the Yeti
“What is your name…do you have one?” As the kissed.
While kissing, the Yeti said that he had no name. So the young lady
Massaging his chest gave him a name
Vajramrita… after the fierce deity
For he was a fierce lover.
He kissed her on the fore head.
Vajramrita and the young woman kissed
Their tounges me and dance erotically.
She sat on her lover while kisssing and rode him and rolled her hips.
He ****** with her ****** rhythms as they coupled.
Soon enough the Yeti got on top of his delecate lover.
He entered her and gently jumping
As if trying not to hurt her
The yeti thengot between her legs
She could feel his face bewteen her.
Then she felt his probing tounge.
He gently yet passionately kissed her womanhood
Again not to hurt her.
Even monsters need love and defection.
The young woman stroked his head and he looked at her.
She took him my the scruff and pulled his head closer to her
And kissed him. As they kissed monster and human explore eachother in an embrace
The young lady went down
And kissed and nipped at his member.
After she was done with his member
The kissed and they slept in each other’s arms
Body twisted and entwined together
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
your sweet lies are my favourite,
they are like sugar on my bitter cake.
your sweet fake actions are my favourite, too,
they make me love you harder even if they're not true.
your sweet imaginary love is also my favourite,
you make me believe that they can be true and real.
but your defection is not one of my sweet favourites,
for it made me realize that I'm not really permanent in your life.
I'm just your sweet favourite temporary source of happiness.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 4:07 AM UTC
"Forgive me, Father…for I have sinned"
This is how all my thoughts begin
Their ritual of villain regrets and sorrows.
They come, they lie, they spin…
Misguiding words and blinding the hallows,
While tears pray for the everyday forgiveness,
The tyrants chain my finned tomorrows
Forever consumed in acid of my illness.
Forgive me, Father…
For I have baptized my thoughts in holy water.
Their slushy sins dived into a cruel slaughter,
Leaving me senseless…hopeless…
My tongue have lost its ability
To cut the truth from raw evilness.
In this shell of madness there's no tranquility
In vengeance, burning wounds don't find stability,
In anger, blurry paths lie in selfishness
And so I lie there senseless.
The way back home
Can't be guided by crippled lights,
Redemption has got me in too many fights
Between me and my reflection,
I breathe and I bleed with no defection
While violins cry over my lost pure smiles,
Their grave shrouded me into a foolish disguise.
My lungs shout for Jordan River.
'Cause I can't go on like this…
Lies, mistakes then hinder
Every time dreams are never what is real.
Hear me, Father…
Here I stand in this place my tears used to gather.
Give me a rain drop so my eyes can heal,
Give me myself again so my skin can feel -
My thoughts are unsafe and they will ****
My insides as a sacrifice meal -
I can hear their evil whispers, late at night…
Don't leave me drowned into this tight well,
Where my pillow is creasing words of farewell.
Thoughts sing lullabies in a shallow swing
Words like "Forgive me, Father…For I have sinned."
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 1:37 PM UTC
not so
without sound
there is a heartbeat
a gentle sniff
a scream
a hauntingly beautiful
song
a voice carrying
a burden
a body bent
standing strong
an unhappy heart
that bleeds
upon paradise
rearranging
circumstance
to justifiably
and painfully
try to arguably
lay down beside
What Is Wrong
We tend to lick our wounds
in the quiet of the night
when we think others
are sleeping
We stay awake
to protect them
from our own fright
We sit beneath one sided glass
so we can't see our own
reflection
and pretend we care so deep
as we are buried
beneath our defection
In the quiet
without the light
shining on our
imperfection
Gold and Silver
have no worth
as dull as Copper
and Nickel
ten times less
Precious
infinitely more
worth
than the babble of
the day to day
that's infects my ears
In the quiet
of the night
your precious voice
rises
The only song
my heart hears
Nov 16, 2013
Nov 16, 2013 at 5:20 AM UTC
I sat and watched
The angel give up
Before the devil ever showed up.
If Lucipher and Beelzebub can fall;
What makes you think you’re above it all?
My soul is intact
And my love and sacrifices
Came along side my vices.
But my honor
Will not come from man
And my will will not detract.
I’ve seen angels
Turn into devils;
But it was man
That took evil to new levels.
If the greatest of men failed,
What makes you think you’ll prevail?
Because my lord,
My aid is your word.
Because my lord,
My word is my sword;
And though my actions
Are not all pure
In you, I’ve a cure.
I gave you my son,
I offered you Emanuel
I beseeched protection
From the angel Gabriel.
Now he forces his one;
He curses you with Demian
As to provoke defection,
And bring your kin to evil again.
What makes you think
You can prevent his will be done?
If you fail, he as won.
The greatest gift of all,
You gave me to stand tall.
Through the breath of your voice
You bestowed on me free choice.
While evil still be done,
Man is free from none;
But while choice belongs to me
I will keep this world good and free.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 7:16 AM UTC
I am ugly.
Amy says to herself in the mirror;
wishing her face was clearer.
Wanting her smile to be brighter.
Longing for the skin around her waist and thighs
to be just a little bit tighter.
She's nowhere near perfection;
nothing short of a defection.
Just one of the few flaws on Humanity's gorgeous face.
Or so she believed
before she could really see
the true so called "beauty"
those around her posessed.
Most of them are all faker than fake.
Coated with a plastic cake
hiding their distinctive features
to the point where your face
is just like hers
making all hope of individuality disappear.
Pretty much goes against everything we're fighting for, huh?
All of you claiming to be so different; what happened to that, huh?
Oh and let's not forget "skinny".
'Cause, baby, skinny itself just isn't skinny enough is it?
Craving attention as if it were vital
like the air we breathe.
Lying about your home life;
Wearing your pain on your sleeve.
Like savages, we crawl;
desperately begging for reassurance from everyone else
but ourselves.
They've taken your personalities
and made them indifferent.
Making it so that you are so much easier to form
into what others see
as beautiful.
Well take it from me then, Sweetie,
this oppressive standard of beauty is sickening.
Sickening like the *****
traveling up your throat and out onto the toothbrush
you are using to conform yourself to this standard.
Sickening like the pounds of cover up that are quite obviously
clogging those pores.
But oh, the lies you've told have already filled
enough of the gaps in your heart.
Face it girl, you don't even know who you are.
You've been engrossed by the standard
you all swear you're not a part of.
It is disgusting;
ugly, almost beyond repair.
Now Amy, she is beautiful.
That's right, take a good, long stare.
She won't change herself to be like you.
Can't you see you're miserable?
Pathetic, it's true.
I am beautiful.
Amy says to herself in the mirror.
Wishing, wanting, longing
for all of you to hear her.
Jul 9, 2010
Jul 9, 2010 at 11:31 AM UTC
I do not walk in measured tread,
I cannot spare the time;
And steady pace is better suited to the dead
Or projects more sublime.
I see them dressed in garb of green
As best befits the land
That harbours jihadist and others more obscene
And not their native sand.
They bear allegiance to no state
That may have sheltered them,
But spread instead their ugly message born of hate
And anxious to condemn.
It would be easy to cast blame
On perpetrators of
The outrage that most freshly has induced our shame
And dissipates our love.
But this would be to hide our guilt
At similar events
That other so-called freedom fighters have but built
And empty rage foments.
The question that we must address
Is why these souls should choose
Defection from their lives of love, and thus aggress?
Why do they not refuse?
What is there that holds them in thrall
And draws them to a place
That their forefathers chose to leave for freedom’s call?
Is it a search for grace?
Is it the hope of paradise
Should they in jihad die?
Seventy-two-virgins is perhaps the promise
On which they then rely?
They claim that Allah is their lord,
that Islam is their life.
They spurn the pen; relying solely on the sword.
The Quran is a knife
with which to cut the Gordian knot
that engirdles their guide.
The jihad route to paradise, the unbeliever’s lot.
But we are mystified.
What must we then on our side do
that hold freedom dearly?
I just demand the freedom that I give to you
Car moi, je suis Charlie.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 12:04 PM UTC
Brevity of rot in wheeling
Memory and thought and feeling
Deviation from direction
Trajectory is shot and keeling
alleviation from all reflection
obfuscation of my projection
something leaks from my skull
flirtation with my own defection
thrumming bleats, a searching squall
for refunding or reaping or any recall
of memory or thought or feeling
Hunting weakly then withdrawal
Entropy is not appealing
Elegies a clot to dealing
Dedication to direction
Empathy without the healing
Jan 16, 2022
Jan 16, 2022 at 3:44 PM UTC
I’m always waiting for perfection
But when something shows direction
I look past the connection
And make up an objection
I can’t handle rejection
If I’m not your selection
I can’t look at my reflection
So instead of showing you affection
I make a projection
That has a defection
Love is an infection
No matter my introspection
I need protection
I wish there was an injection
That causes more circumspection
Because you can see in my complexion
The result is my subjection
Which leads to eventual dejection
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 8:09 PM UTC
Inspection leads some men
to brief resurrection,
But that course can also
lead to a defection.
There’s often some needing,
for a frenzy of feeding,
When we seek to feast,
on an ego that’s bleeding.
Is it real or some mirage,
lost in forest or garage?
So many casualties of truth,
how can we triage?
And this is that place
too well we all know,
that if you disagree
well that’s just your ego.
And right or wrong
you must submit,
Or be tossed from the circle
a dishonorable ****
How is it we can be so blind,
to not see we are of a kind.
Who run about with desperate shouts,
without a mindful mind.
In the dark I see a wraith
Perhaps a remnant of our faith,
Ephemeral and tinged with rust
Forgotten father of our trust.
I’m not speaking here to thee,
what’s this paradox I see
But you said that, no I did not,
Oh, what a travesty!
Walk a mile in my shoes,
see for yourself what you may lose,
Perhaps you’ll find the fit so right
that it awakes you in the night.
And there you’ll lie and toss and turn,
amidst the loss amidst the burn
Oh, sad child who would not learn
Please say a prayer for me.
Sep 1, 2020
Sep 1, 2020 at 1:34 PM UTC
Listen here little one
Nothing bad will ever come
For I am here
And I do not fear
There is no need to run
I know you are afraid
You may think that they'd
Take away your rights
And you'll die in all the fights
But what they do will be undone
This isn't a war
They do indeed implore
Equality and protection
Has turned into defection
Bite the hand that feeds one
Things at last will settle down
Or fear we all drown
We must trust in one another
We are all sister and brother
Let's hope our country is not overrun
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
I do not hate my body for the dysphoria, I do not hate it for the wrong that it is for me but instead love it for the right it should have been for someone else.
I treasure my arms and my legs, my face and my chest, and I work to mold them into the kind of perfection I will never desire, because the only alternative is stepping into a pyre and proving to the world that this birth was not for me by trial of fire
I respect the body I was born into, even if at times it mixes the black and it mixes the blue, even if I recognize that all this forced-on love perpetuates the crimes of gender that I have worked so hard to hide
I hold myself with the strength that my dream self carries, and slip away into the mind-ferries that take me back to the days when I would pick black-berries and realize that like my lips they would look fine as hell colored with cherries
I do not hate this body for the dysphoria, I just feel the sting of eyes that immediately think ‘male’ when I wear a dress, like, do I have to write it on my forehead that ‘she’ is how you need to address me?! Do I have to rip off my ***** and sew on a different *** for you to learn how to respect me?
I cry this body to sleep, rocking it in my arms because I know that like my brown father’s black baby it’s not wanted. It’s perfection is a defection that I wish I could love, but when I don’t watch my thoughts I just find myself wanting it to leave.
I do not hate this body for the dysphoria, I just feel like I should have been given a body in which I could get cozy, one that fit me, one not for Tom, Or George, but instead for Josie.
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 12:46 PM UTC
I've never thought this way before
My cynliders are in another direction
I can feel my defection
To my older ways
Now I feel there must be change
To compensate for your well being
And that's a golden feeling
You're working wonders and you never expected it
I am more than happy
To go lovey dovey and sappy
That's who I was and who I will be
Way too much darkness encroaching upon us now
I just hope that you can keep my lights going
And my heart pumping clear oxygen
Your smile already makes me hate the situations I get put in, less.
You make my pain less
You reduce all the worst parts about me.
I think I'll become your dream when you already think I am.
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 4:14 AM UTC
Another lie upon your lips,
I tasted it with our last kiss,
It seemed so vague,
Now much more clear,
That you, nor I, should now be here,
You find comfort in my hemorrhaging
I can’t help but smile you pretty thing,
So ugly behind that beautiful face,
Contempt finds me upon disgrace,
I twist the knife myself, what’s worse,
I welcome it, for what it’s worth,
I can’t help but notice that you twitch
Whenever you can pull a stitch,
A piece of me that leaves you vexed,
I’ve no empathy, not so complex,
And yet you pick at the infection
So vehement in your doomed defection,
Just to see if I there halt,
Awaiting some cryptic result,
Some declaration of my love lost,
Some tears perhaps, a rose to toss,
But if I were capable of salting this earth,
I would’ve done with you dispersed,
Spread you throughout this lying land,
You’d be at home, just as you planned,
In my chest there resides hate,
Like Azathoth lying in wait,
It must be lulled, kept sedate,
Until, as now, it stirs awake,
For you it bites at bit to take,
It is that which God can not unmake,
No conundrum or mistake,
I will take that which you can not replace,
And if it came to that last kiss,
If even there was no consequence
I still would see you drown in ****
Than taste that lie upon your lips
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 9:10 PM UTC
a pernicious old troll
with restless fingers
and maybe also a mouse
still haunts the White House
for his last days in office
he spooks out of all bounds
sends millions into poverty
destroys protected grounds
obstructs where he can
desperate not to lose fans
from his base that still dream
that he won an election
he tries to make it seem
like he still is in power
but many have gone sour
there is talk of defection
and crumbling are formerly
supportive actions
yet he still claims he’s won
fires those who don’t agree
is unable to see
that his time is gone
Dec 29, 2020
Dec 29, 2020 at 5:18 PM UTC
The mazy pattern spins upon
The murky enclosure.
The process emerges as
Watery words written, interlaced,
Across the fleshy frame.
A fleeting impression of
Ephemeral inscriptions
Dancing and enticing my mind
To immersed submissions.
Anxious pulse slows,
Cooling blood flows
In sympathetic resonance;
My breath lilts, feathery,
And the room, lustrous, grows.
As light surfaces, giving
Clarity to the liquid lexis
That swirls around, I begin
To see the hypnotic signs,
Coaxing my soul
To a heady delirium!
But the ethos is pure alterity,
And the shapes start to change.
The fluent verses that encircled me --
Messages of reassurance,
Poems of perpetual peace,
Prompting me to repose,
Calling me to release --
Now shift and bleed
Into a color-blur, so strange!
Once recognizable,
The patterns now appear as
Iridescent waves of a gnosis, primordial.
The intuitive takes hold.
In this floating state of acceptance,
Those dreamy streams pull me to Elysium:
Visions shimmer of verdant gardens unending,
Acoustics of astonishing life
Jabbering in response, ascending!
The proud Peacock stands,
The wild Quetzal soars!
Is this moment virtual? Is this identical?
I am drawn into a dreamland
Carried from my sentient core.
All will to resist dilutes to
Diffuse and opaque defection.
The eternal elements of existence
Intrude and disperse any mean ambition.
Breath. Sight. Vibration. Light.
Bathed in a serene sea my soul would chart.
Knowledge without thought.
Instinct without provocation.
Flight within the cavernous enclosure
Of my trembling heart.
I am in balance above the abyss,
I am a fixed crystal corpus.
The liquid lyrics of Supreme love
Are interlaced and have become
A spark of pristine existence.
Miraculous codes of new life branch forth
To a seminal universe of expression.
From that murky domain, the excellent
Utterance of my existence becomes clear.
The gospel of the soul’s translation sends its
Proclamation when the muse appears!
Aug 19, 2017
Aug 19, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC
I know now,
Why
You have captivated my heart,
Mister Sir...
For you were,
My image of perfection,
And attraction:
My heart has become tar,
For longing for your defection
You were an identical heart beat
And soul to mine,
But,
I was vile and young and bold...
I no longer need salvation,
For my King has come
I rather still fancy your immaculenity,
For I dream about it:
Sun down,
Sun up.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 12:42 AM UTC