"depravities" poems
A journo aware, equally at home in Palaces, Halls or the streets
Trained to vision duplicity slants and angles and know the crux
Able to see the story behind the story behind the story and more
In ethics robed proudly while mendacity and shenanigans cry shy
Show me the Dai Lama in a crack den or Bill Gates ******* in Goa
Semi demi illiterates with joined-up thinking or unthinking
Immatures lacking emotional intelligence or gainful statures
In groupthink mired settles on group delusions in vicissitudes
We're programming or flooding seeds of doubts or confusing
As if maladroit fantasies are gospels not simpletons' chicanery
Dismissives sad dolts duly outflanked and outclassed inherently
Ignoramuses crude and coarse in true form lacking introspection
Wear disgrace proudly in persistence and parade idiocy fittingly
Strength in numbers neither nullifying stupidity or indignities
Indulgent cowards and sick gate-keeps of unearned entitlements
Nonentities, rabble rousers shamed vigilantes in emotional dearth
Claiming and luxuriating in the depravities of their deficiencies
I remain what I am and no apologies necessary for august status
Your diminutive deeds merely reflects your statures and intellects
Little minds already condemn you to suicides of real aspirations
CopyrightLaurenceA6thNov2018.allrightsreserved
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 3:10 PM UTC
To glorify the death of innocents
In unified voices
Unquestioning acceptance
Submissive resignation
Sorrows chant
If he who posses
In the universe
All power
Banish the moon
Blacken the sun
Stop the hour
Raise not godly hand
Halt the shower
Evils dominance o'er the earth
Is this his worth
His strength in my eyes
Remains unseen
What faith is this
Allows Satan free reign
The meek the no voice
Suffer in silence and pain
As the unclean put forth
Long tentacles of black veins
Depravities tools
With no pity rule
Teaching tolerance
Where is the love
As the bombs drop
Screaming humans
Frightened of dying
On repentive knees
Beg forgiveness
What faith is this
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Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 11:00 AM UTC
and it was as if
the entire universe
shrank to the size
of a microscopic dot
and found its niche
perched atop
my chest
there it lingers
spinning
at once
an unstoppable force
and an immovable object
a paradox of
time and space
void
a black hole the
size of a quark
swallowing everyone and
everything with an
appetite unlike anything
anyone in the galaxy
had ever seen
so complete was its
crushing gravity that
nothing escaped its grasp
neither fire
nor ash
not life
not death
its emptiness was total
it gobbled up the light
and garbled what mangled
remnants of hope remained
contracting on the event
horizon's scope before
digesting the detritus
in a series of
torturous depravities that
would make even
Marquis de Sade
tremble with a mix
of shock and awe
in his padded cell as
he begged a nonexistent
god for forgiveness
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 1:33 AM UTC
The coldness of my unleashed disinhibitions have gracefully succumbed to the wisdom of cosmological forces, despite my ravenous salivations for all that is vehemently forbidden.
As I bark inside the relief of this solitary pound of articulated and socialised liberty, like an expression of abstract artistry within an ethical mudslide; I continue to teeter upon geographical tightropes which span unforgiving terrains across the ancient divides of propriety, where the baron plains of deuterocanonical origin are populated by restless spirits with gnashing teeth.
So, if they could ever be personified, I could easily butcher a myriad of depravities which tangibly characterise my inner Astarte and Ishtar demons – although, such an event would have to occur after we have engaged in a myriad of abominations where raunchy and indulgent copulations shamefully expose our brazen wantonness to animalistic inclinations.
Never offer to tie me down.
Restriction diametrically opposes my socially skilled yet nomadic being, as it sojourns across a psychedelic array of vibrant gardens, and weaves through present pathways which are timeless in their being.
It just is.
That is the essence of ontology.
Can we ever effectively contemplate the philosophies of predetermination and predestination?
As I am not dichotomous in my thinking, there is a legitimate place for being an omnivore within the walls of our societal fabric.
Although I radically accept that of which I do not approve, the psychology of ambivalence has led me to raise questions around the validity of horticulture.
My clock has melted down the flamboyance of those multicolored mountainsides of being and nothingness.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 1:20 AM UTC
I always wanted to sing love
I always wanted to fly
What silly dreams
I always wanted to stop global warming
I always wanted to put an end to butchering animals
What silly dreams
I always wanted to stop time
I always wanted to stay young
What silly dreams
I always wished you were home
I always wished I was just like you
What depravities
Jun 30, 2010
Jun 30, 2010 at 5:59 PM UTC
We built worlds in one another
Small entities
Of holding one another's hands
Of lacing your fingers through mine
And lifting your closed fist to my lips
As I gently kissed between the ridges
Of your past
We tucked our hopes and dreams in between the folds of skin that we curled up in at night
And we held each other so tight that
there were times where we weren't sure
Where one began and the other ended
We laid our souls on one another's chests
And caressed
The cavities and damaged depravities
That others had laid us victims too...
Aug 11, 2015
Aug 11, 2015 at 4:44 AM UTC
She fought for you
A ride despicable
And you saw the truth
The truth undeniable
In her womb lie mysteries
Mysteries of love
Love and hate
She whispers
In slow shallow words
The song of a mother
The lullaby
She whispers
In the toughest times
The song of a defender
The warcry
She taught you fear
Fear from your own demons
Fear of the depravities
Fear, that makes you dead
She taught you love
Love for all the things
Love for the unkind
Love, that makes you alive
So sing for her
For not just her pride
For its her life
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 2:32 PM UTC
There is no doubt that kinks exist
from the vanilla to the extreme
sadomasochism asks for pain
while the fetish defines bliss
outside these avenues attraction lays
in the realm of pure appeal
not confused with the sport
playfulness between adults
oddities more than strange
no related to loving souls
relationships stand beyond
these attempts to spice it up
be they hetro or something more
pairings are based on romance
one to the other becomes their norm
declaring more than kink explores
put aside the prejudice
disregard when hate equates
depravities of the mind’s eye
with amour when spirits court
no matter how the bits may fit
acknowledgment may extend
to hearts entwined as one
asking all to honor love.
© 2018. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20181216.
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:07 PM UTC
We lived there before the sky burnt
it was a pleasant place of anarchy
where the sons would turn the wheel
of what you wonder that's lost in the
flash that descended on the skies.
Now the story gets distorted In either
the burning moment or the scaring
repetitions that flaked and healed not
as a scar should. For now all was concealed
in the places where eyes now burnt out.
Its a lovely place for a tan of many descending
depravities as what was whole now not.
Teeth chatter in the walls where lips chewed
from little bites. A smile to make a mother
proud as she cooks all your friends parts.
Waste not, want not. What mothers said we
tasted my lover we savoured every bit.
Look at my home of bones eradiated in the
garden glowing in abolished of the flesh.
Seed my garden, grow tombstones instead.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 4:34 PM UTC
2/18/2015
I can taste you in the air now,
even though last lazy excuse
for you is long dead.
The rainy days seem to me a
small price to pay and I've
noticed in brilliant sun tundra winds
The potted lilies have started to grow again. I saw three leaves on a stem and
the sun seems to stay for tea.
In my newfound journalistic ventures in efforts to further understand my self, of course and the
Wiley depravities of people i think I now see that in the coldest winters
the brilliant sun alone was enough.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 3:13 PM UTC
depravities light
summons the night
bringing darkness down
pushing from inside
a glimpse in the dark
covers the spark
steals your breath
circles profound
sight unseen
falls at your feet
bends to the knee
begins to crawl
learns to seethe
closes the eyes
subtle to bound
drive a fear beside
the pull of a string
a shortcut in madness
takes the first step
the foggy deceit
is the visible leap
the catch is the plea
a moments release
lost to the world
captured and free
steps up
takes a swing
hits high above
jumps to and from
hand to hand and back again
steals to keep
slides straight home
crossing before you can find
left it all behind
blinded bright
framed for headlights
subtle and found
urges homeward bound
a vivid memory
versus a rhyme
turns about
in the face of time
reality bleeds
tucked in between
unravelling dreams
blown about longings
misplaced in haste
fated against obscure limbs
move about in shadows
the interfering trees
dance with the wind
a flowers stem
bent for will
begging ever still
to touch with a reach
the small outline in distress
begs a lingering caress
holding true a belief to redeem
something far and in between
caught inside a raging stream
whispers rushing the ear
building into screams
howls from the deep
to the bellow of a beast
calling for misery
to hope and hide
follow side by side
drag a thing to bury
drawing breath for fury
Terry D’Arcy-Ryan
May 12, 2019
May 12, 2019 at 8:27 PM UTC