"defiles" poems
The border at Jammu & Kashmir,
One of the highest battlegrounds.
Though that scenery is beautiful,
The soil there is stained in blood.
The blood of terrorists & soldiers,
Sadly defiles the heaven in there.
White peaks often don a red hue,
Those serene valleys face hellfire.
They do not realize that it is vain,
They war in the name of religion.
Disrupting peace and calm there,
They often desecrate the paradise.
Christ is said to have gone there,
After his resurrection of course.
Hindu deities are also fabled so,
The land of Gods and their messengers has been desecrated time and again.
Oct 9, 2014
Oct 9, 2014 at 10:43 PM UTC
The Mafia and the Pope
the Italian mafia wanted to take control
they wanted control of the church and all its wealth
the leader Anthony “The Boss” Gambatti sent his muscle
to secure an audience with the Pope
Johnny “the Eye” and his storm troopers
pushed by the guards
into the Pope's secretary's office
Arch Bishop Spinozza
sprung to his feet to confront the noise
Johnny “the Eye”, he got that name
after he lost his left eye in a knife fight
and replaced it with a glass oversized eye
that always looked straight ahead
a burning cigarette hanging from his lips
he got right in the Bishops face
“The Boss” wants a meeting with his Royalness
“and he wants it now”
the Bishop well aware of his visitors
and there violent ways
backing away from the smoke in his face
told Johnny that he would arrange a meeting
“tomorrow” he said “tomorrow”
Johnny cocked his head
so that his large fake eye was an inch from
the Bishops nose
flicked the ashes from his cigarette
on the shoes of the Bishop
turning to walk away
“tomorrow” he said
Anthony “The Boss”
dressed in his fine 5K Italian silk suit
leather gloves
black silk fedora
accompanied by his entourage'
walked into the Popes office the next day
he sat in a chair in front of the Pope's desk
“What can I do for you Anthony?” asked the Pope
the two had grown up as school mates
and had maintained a relationship
though not close
“Carlos, I think it is time we work out
a financial aggreement with each other”
“being that the church is known for giving,
I think it is time for you to give me some money,
a lot of money”
“I have many expenses to address”
“to insure that this happens”
I want you to make love to a woman”
“and if I refuse such a horrid task? quizzed the Pope
“I will begin removing all of your Bishops,
one every hour, from all over the world”
”and it won't be pretty” responded Anthony
The Pope, obviously shaken with the proposal
got up from his chair, his face in his hands
paced back and forth for a few minutes
“I will agree to your disgusting request
on three conditions” said the Pope.
“and what are those conditions?” asked Anthony
“1st this woman must be blind,
so that she cannot see who defiles her body”
“2nd this woman must be deaf,
so that she cannot hear any hint of who defiles her body”
“and 3rd your holiness?”
“3rd, this woman must have really really big ****
Gomer Lepoet...
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
**In the shadow of Everest people are dying
Crushed in a chaos embirthed from beneath,
Emerged as destructor of temple and Taos,
Emerged as an innocent killer... bequeathed.
History crumbles as heavens roar mightily
Ghorka is dead in an avalanche of rock,
Beggars and potentates crushed in the brickfall
Dharahara’s fall leaves men gaping in shock.
Shuddering mountains in avalanche of free fall
Wails of the stricken as quaking defiles,
Gold topped pagodas and statue of ancients,
Sculpture of lions now a rubble in piles.
Khathmandu in the clasp of calamity
Nightmarish forces arisen from deep,
Grasping the earth in their grip of profanity
Monstrously tearing the bedrock from sleep.
A techtonic ****** of Asia by India
Nepal’s Himalayas ****** to the sky,
Inconsequential, this plight of humanity
Nature proceeds as poor Nepalese die.**
M.
ANZAC Day 25 April 2015
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:45 PM UTC
[[ ****
blood pooling around her
there she lay sprawled
eyes glazed,motionless with no stir
she is another victim to succumb
to this heinous inhuman act
the mission is accomplished
the criminal thinks
freely he walks
head and shoulder held high
among mortals he laugh
life goes on ,another life gone
my sister,mum and aunt
the daughters of eve are endangered
my brother,dad and i
the all sons of adam
are the perpetrators
fear exists among our female species
they fear to be stripped off their
coverings
they live in a nightmare of being
stripped off their dignity
unwillingly be disrobed and be
robbed
they fear being deflowered and
defiled
out of her will she was forced
naked and spreadeagled
vitruvian man style she lay
her case was a repetition of a biblical
story
dinah and the sons of shechem
blood freely trickled between her
open pelvic
life seeped out of her misused shell
did she really deserve this???
who will end this atrocity?
who will fight for the girl child?
toddlers and grannies
shamelessly chauvinist male defiles
them
its against the word
its against the unwritten codes
it's unafrican
it's evil
my anger is frothing
like a volcano the lava is heating up
my pen is crying for the female child
i will shout this from rooftops
on the skyline i will write it
this battle is ours and we have to
fight
protection we've to offer
[[the chronicles of the dumb speaker]]
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 3:33 AM UTC
Nobility divine fills gaps of transcendence,
Soars to and from the throne heavenly,
Exalts morals near the king of ascendance,
Patrolling the good, and sons of the seventy.
A duty forgotten, replaced with dependence,
On prayers rarely heard, and logic of a herd -
Divinity is far in absence; man in attendance,
The book is a third, and teachings are blurred.
Andeliviuan corruption supposedly erased:
The creation rotten of Sariel, wanders gaily.
The holy and fallen angel’s doing embraced,
By the clay beings caressing evil like a frailly.
By God not, who from heaven him displaced.
Yet, the legacy of the wrong stands humanly,
In Thailand, America, Palestine, and all graced -
A grace of sinfulness celestial and worldly.
Religion is the poor’s only ultimate truth,
the rich’s side hustle, and the rulers’ tool;
It is the loss of power that defiles the sooth,
The one the poor has not, but does the fool.
Robbers’ servants, bread crumbs consumers,
Toothless **** dogs, emaciated lost tramps,
Little blind pawns, vultures’ puppets, tumours,
And wrenches they are, the upper hand’s lambs.
If only Raguel’s judgements fall upon man,
Raphael’s punishment beautifies this existence,
Gabriel’s wrath makes not all humans ane,
And Michael saves us, the Sarahs, in assistance.
In the heart deepened with old repression,
That mounts with plenitude of filtered feels,
Resides a universe yearning for expression,
In a meat clay who feeds on calories of meals.
Man, in the genesis, in the light, in the dark,
In prosperity, in turmoil, triumphed with vices;
vileness, abuse, wreckage is our sole mark,
On this planet whose population is in slices.
Oct 21, 2022
Oct 21, 2022 at 5:18 AM UTC
Obama jetted
back to Africa
soaring aloft on
gulf stream swank
a posse of
oil company execs
in tow, intent on liberating
Dark Continent
fossil fuels from unjust
underground prisons
American
entrepreneurs
angling to get the
upper hand in the
high stakes global
resource poker game
pulled a big time race card
to trump China’s
full house
On Goree Island,
political paparazzi
popped and clicked
a perfect image
of the neocolonial
white clad President
framed in a doorway filled
with dark shadows and
heinous memory of the
unspeakable horrors
of global trade
leering from
the portal at the
Gate of No Return
Obama welled with
meditative epiphanies
of personal seachange,
and the vicissitudes of life,
pondering his meteoric rise
from a Land of Lincoln
State Senator to
American President
in the span of
one golden
9/11 decade
At a
South African University
Town Hall Summit,
the fist bumpin,
mike droppin Prez
telepromted the
star struck folks with
solemn universal civil rights
pronouncements,
wrapped in the riddle of
the pursuit of peace,
hidden in the enigma of
the reverence for
human dignity
Later in the day
Mr. Obama sat at the
feet of a comatose Mandela;
whispering into his ear
why an Afghan peace
eludes him, why his
drone strikes rain
death upon innocents
and why his democratic
republic defiles
the civil liberties of its
citizens to ransom
a daily diet of fear
But Madiba does not hear
Mr. Obama’s feverish
confessions; his
ears are closed,
he dreams only
of the paradise of
liberation he earned
for his life's hard wages
Music Selection:
Gil Scott Heron
Western Sunrise
Oakland
070213
jbm
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 11:14 AM UTC
darkness extends its warm arms around
me and its fingernails trace the delicate
purple veins tattooed on my forearms
thin curlicues and tiny vessels of this very
thing-- this thing that reverberates and
reverberates and reverberates within
this tiny black knife makes its first vicious
forceful trace-- the curls becoming
faucets of this bluish purple liquid
a puddle which defiles the pristine floor
-- maybe this is a suitable cleaning
device-- a thin rod with this pointy
shiny silvery tip, collecting tiny mercury
***** from the puddle, as I rearranged
the puddle into the thing bluish purple
liquid curlicues just like that whence
they came
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 9:43 AM UTC
I have walked these fields
I have known this land
And though the years have changed the face
The memory still stands
Of a time when things were simpler
Of a time when hope was pure
Of a time when changing weather
Was all of which we were unsure
And I have seen the sun rise
Over fields of green and gold
Now that view is just a memory
And I know I'm getting old
Can it be that earth is failing?
Can it be that light has dimmed?
Can it be that we've abandoned
all the life that we once lived?
Is it any wonder
that our children can't get over
just the smallest of infractions
when the world falls all around them?
For constancy is foreign
in a land of no intentions
where a lost appreciation
for sacredness of life abounds.
I cannot pretend
To understand it all
For as often as I wonder
Equal am I inclined to fall
For I am of a generation
Which forgets itself began,
Wanders aimlessly through atmosphere
And defiles its fellow man
And over weakness, few have triumphed;
Through affliction, few have prevailed
And reverence for creation
Is an instinct we have failed
But our days are not yet over
For this one hope stands unmoved:
We are still formed of the same dust
Whose strength our ancestry has proved.
Is there any remnant
of the spirit deep within us
that might once again remember
the great faith we once achieved?
There is far greater meaning
found in one hopeful sentiment
than in a thousand shouting voices
denying all things once believed.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
Cold compassion
Like a kiss that’s sweet
And a bite that’s raw
Cold compassion
It’s the only thing I feel
The only thing I have
Cold compassion
Fills me
Defiles me
Cold compassion
I’d die without
But it’s choking me
Cold compassion
Like a mist to cool the pain
And a fire to scorch my brain
Cold compassion
Is all ******** lies
Worn out cries
Something I love and despise.
Dec 12, 2013
Dec 12, 2013 at 2:52 AM UTC
A complicated conception.
Devastate my childhood. Corruption defiles ghetto neighborhoods.
Law enforcement never does what they should. Hopeless, sick, enraging, & shameless where I stood.
Probation violations they definately would. Patrolling *** offenders because they could.
No one in the system of courts cares or understood.
They don't believe my words, go unheard.
My tears are not a faucet to turn off & on.
Our trauma & sadness was real.
My feelings they can not feel.
My underage *** is illegal not for any pervert to steal.
© Harmony Sapphire . All rights reserved,
Jan 11, 2015
Jan 11, 2015 at 1:51 PM UTC
In my opinion,
I don't have one.
Mine is one of self denial.
My mind corrupts
and defiles
a thought
originally meant
to bring
a
smile.
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 7:15 PM UTC
How can I conceal this Toxic mass I am?
This grotesque infestation,
Who defiles everything regardless.
So let’s act as though I’m bearable,
And pretend you don’t hate me,
Because I will always be this.
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 11:49 AM UTC
why does it feel weird to say:
zune,
computer,
video game,
in my poems?
they’re normal
for my age
for my time
and yet
I feel like I’m corrupting
a poem when I throw
those wicked words
in
I can mention
the tv,
the phone,
the car,
but not
the plasma tv
the cell phone
the hover car
this feeling of betrayal
to something that has
no feelings
is messing with me
and yet
I don’t fight it
so for now,
sub-woofer,
iPad,
E-reader
you’re not going to appear
on my page
but probably one day
you will
and they’ll be some other thing
that I feel
defiles
my poetry
Oct 29, 2010
Oct 29, 2010 at 1:08 PM UTC
What do I see,
in the clear mirrored,
a shattered image,
not a reflection of who I am,
a mask,
weaved from the lies of a scared child,
a poor shield from judgement,
the mouth twisted into an infinite smile
Tears streaming down,
her hands tracing them down to my neck,
fear,
my mistress,
it seems you ended my torment,
after an eternity,
however the chains of my past still bind me,
to you,
she traces my jawline,
a knife,
that I now wield,
The mask shatters.
What do we see,
a lone child,
scared and misguided,
blade in hand,
defiles God's temple,
out of hate for himself,
loved by some,
who are blinded by love,
respected by others,
who can't see past the mask,
hurt all who believed his truths,
an evil thing love is,
worthless to all who believe his lies.
The boy longs to cry,
tears flow no longer,
the boy longs to bleed,
until blood flows no longer,
he should die,
we should all perish,
for the sins of a dreamer,
can never be atoned for,
for even now,
I love you.
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 6:03 PM UTC
a cult novilist in Blackpool
watches Martina Navratilova
throw sugar lumps
at passers by
as captured teardrops
in a teaspoon
call, plead, for understanding
perhaps release
for they’re not the
obsessive prize
once hailed as trophy
but simply words in the air
that execute that which never comes
causing a retreat from an ordinance
of nothing
where time defiles itself
a red speckled jersey
whose arms, once occupied
are too small, limited
like abandoned prosthetics
leaving rotting flesh
to slowly scald the earth
with a vaporous experience
of emotional contrasts
like that of mesmerising serpents
whose visional embrace
stares deeply with such a charge
of ****** energy
that causes the air to weep
and poses the question
who shall give me leave
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC
a
miraculous
blindness
willingly
self afflicted
turn
jaundiced
eyes
from the
corruption
of
sacred
vows
a
miraculous
transfiguration
renewed
evangelical
ardor
a
refreshed
public face
beheld and
adored
ripping
iron curtains
into tiny
pieces
obscuring
stains
on altars
of shame
they once
brought a boy
vexed with
lunacy
to the
Good Healer
“oh faithless
perverse
generation
how long
must I
suffer you?”
Jesus
cured
the boy.
Disciples
asked,
why they
failed
to cast the
demon
out?
veneration
of worldly
trappings
defiles my
body
find in
yourself
a faith
the size
of a
mustard
seed
and the
demons
will flee
from the
body long
wracked
with illness
Matthew 17 14-21
Gnarls Barkley
Whose Gonna Save My Soul Now
Oakland
4/25/14
jbm
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
Grasp life!
Cling to it as you would grasp a flower with many thorns.
Hold tightly its beauty,
And its pain,
As your reward for the chances you have taken in desperation.
Drink freely from the wound, the blood of the terrified heart,
That crimson badge that defiles the bold sanctity of our innocence!
And fear not the nightmares,
The blame,
The doubt,
The anger,
Hold high the heavy head in its weary and furrowing brow.
Taste the blood of your own bitten tongue,
Drink it down, hot and bitter sweet,
Savoring it behind teeth of madness in a silently screaming mouth.
And yet neither tis not life nor love that bears the pain!
Tis I, the dream!
Shattered by the hammers of false gods.
This chalice that stood once in glistening its pride,
Reduced now to uncertain shards of hope.
The betrayer's shards,
Taken to form and cast thusly unto the ***** of the unwary and the fool,
Striking into those who survive,
The unforgiving blow.
War is its result.
On a fierce battlefield of emotions, born in the heart,
Where weather matters not against the cold torment that is only found inside.
So tremble,
And shiver,
And rightly so that you should!
For you are no different than he,
Nor she,
Nor I.
That you should not feel and bear witness to the sorrows
Served in generous portions at the table of lies.
In as much that you did indeed eat and drink your fill from the plentiful bounty,
You who also found your satiated fulfillment there in,
With each ravenous bit taken.
May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 12:32 AM UTC
For the words you utter
I pry fervently
If is mould of dust;just like me
I just don't get it
And finds it hard if I do
How can mere words be so hominid
Soft and ****
I just don't get it
The very sight
****** and cloack me with lewd
And make my entire body sweet
Like am dip in a jacuzzi
Full of chocolate and sugar
And lays my head on pluffy pillows
As it swift to the lanes of my mind
And twine my hair so brilliantly
I just don't get it
Who taught it my weakspots and hormones?
Who taught it all those gentle touches;
And ***** talks?
It whispers into my ears
Nuzzling my lobes and rings
I just don't get it
It defiles me completely
When it massages the pits
Of my elbow and knees
As my pupil dilates and mutters"I want you"so gently
I just don't get it
It makes my ******* get hard,and lurch
And bust my blouse
I gasp for fresh air
When it kisses all over me,and ends in the middle of my tighs
As I drip the tears of pleasure,and moans helplessly
I just don't get it
It follows me everywhere
Even in my bathroom
When it grips my moldy towels,and gets deep within me
And makes my heart beat faster than the athletes
I just don't get it
Not even in my sleep will it let me by
When it watches over me,and get into my dreams
And brews creams in my pants
I just don't get it,
Your words,your words
Your words is a man
Your words
©Historian E.Lexano
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 6:36 AM UTC
"Grieve while you can"
"Why."
Don't speak in silhouettes
"Why him and not me?"
Vermouth signature in september
"I don't understand what that means."
Moon asleep while on fire
"That still doesn't make any sense."
Sometimes the beautiful things don't have to
"And what beautiful thing did he do to you?"
Kissed the silver right out of me
"How..."
**a little like all at once
all over the world**
*"Tell me how I ****** up"*
"How could you?"
You mean how could my poetry
"How could you ******* hurt me this way?"
Art is a twisted, underestimated thing
"And love?"
Like a child's coin toss
"You can't compare love to that."
Love is a two faced child that feeds people to the war
"What war?"
Our own
"Dismantle me because you're chasing something you can't have"
"What's heads stand for?"
Carpe diem, Carpe noctem
"And tails?"
Soli deo gloria
"I'm so confused..."
And now you understand
"Understand what, your confusing definition of love?"
Felix culpa
Ask god how this could happen
"I watched you distance yourself from me."
Distance gives birth to gardens
"You've created a ******* forest at this point"
Housing the tree of knowledge
"What are you saying?"
Snake in god's flower crown
"..."
Sin of fruit and temptation
"So this is about Adam and Eve?"
Not quite
"Then what?"
Eden grew between us
"Hate him so it makes it easier"
"He'll be the one that defiles you."
The shattering of soft water
"But you are the moon."
Precisely
"Then who are you shattering?"
The snake
"What snake?"
I will not eat fruit that is ripe of jealousy
"I wanted you."
And I wanted more.
...
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 6:48 PM UTC
You dwell in a weak body,
In flesh that gives in to temptation,
And defiles your salvation,
Immortal soul,
The body in which you live will die,
Immortal soul where shall you go???
Are you going to be safe?
In heaven above?hell somewhere?or maybe roaming the earth restlessly,
Immortal soul!!!!!!!!!
Where is your home after the flesh?
What will be your new address when your home fades to dust...
Immortal soul,I sure hope you'll go to a place of better peace and quiet,to find yourself a home with better lyrics and lines of soul soothing poetry,
Immortal soul,
Immortal soul,
Immortal soul.
May 15, 2016
May 15, 2016 at 6:29 AM UTC
Part IV: Strings Through Face
How it works is far beyond me,
But what it holds my eyes can capture.
Twist the knobs and find the right keys,
Twist the knobs and my face is captured.
I have no face.
I cannot see but I still wonder.
My eyes are gone.
Where is the lightning?
As I hear the thunder.
This music box ate my face alive!
Stringing out my sight!
Where are you?
Tearing off my nares!
Who are you!
Sewing close my jaw!
Why are you...
My face is lost!
Father, my face is gone!
I need another...
This music box defiles my slumber!
Father!
Do you hear my calls?
My face is lost father, where did I go wrong?
The air around is dead,
I cannot let it in.
My voice outside cannot be said,
But I need an answer...
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 12:32 AM UTC
you're all grown up now.
look at them staring at you.
desire. envy. lust.
you can see it.
their intentions leaking out through
their eyes.
they trace your skin and draw you in
their memories.
oh poor mongrels.
inch by inch they get closer.
you can smell the foulness of their
being.
the stench of pure malice fuming out.
like predators.
and you are the vermin.
you're all grown up now.
but your past is catching up on you.
you cant erase the scratches of your misfortunes.
the wailing sound of agony in your voice
as you struggled to get loose.
it still haunts you.
the ghost of your past.
the ghost that defiles after a deep slumber.
a memento.
not a worthy one.
you're all grown up now.
but nothings changed.
you are still a shadow of your old self.
a victim of circumstances.
thats what you are.
you embraced the tragedy.
no tears can cleanse the guilt you
hid inside.
the anger in your voice,
the remorse,
the denial.
overshadowed by the pleasure in
your moans.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 6:17 AM UTC
*my dreams walk
the blurred lines
between sub-conscious
hopes and fears
never predictable,
ever straying
tiptoeing further
than i dare think
in waking moments,
extracting
from some sleeping recess
the dusty musings
of experiences forgotten,
it uncloaks
a painting masterful
hidden long
and then defiles
its canvas
with the random spatterings
of fearful colors,
running down
fluid feardrops
from frame to easel
and onward to the floor
until it pools at my feet...
where it wakes me
from my restless sleep
leaving me to wonder
just how many more
hidden passageways
and rooms are waiting
to be unlocked...
revealed...
and then...
repainted.*
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 10:18 AM UTC
Those **** me eyes
And partial smile
Have me dying inside
And getting wild
She could ****** me up
In the ****
She defiles
With that smirk
And i hurt
To bleed her
To break her
Make her ***
Need her
Take her
Share her none
She could be mine
And happy
If only once
Keep her
Tweak her
Fapping after blunts
Summers starting
summers ending
A summer of love
Share it
Fair it
For what its done
We are
We were
We will be only one
She ***** me
I **** her
We pass out drunk
She might
But i cant get enough
She shakes when shes happy
And likes it rough
She fights
She bites
We growl when we ***
Cut her
Bruise her
Breathe into her lungs
Whispers
Promises
All the above
Tend to her
Caress her
Give her what she wants
Marry her
Praise her
Swear to her love
Keep her
Need her
Ill wake up
Had her never
Or even ever
But i feel the loss
Saw her
Paused unto her
Still shaking it off
Shes gone
She walks
She walks away
I'm here
Shes there
And will likely stay
For now
For ever
For whatever we make
Im there
Shes here
We know our place
May 5, 2013
May 5, 2013 at 3:02 PM UTC