"depreciated" poems
“By any means necessary”
Words of encouragement to my self-depreciated soul
Pure happiness coming at a premium
The outside world strips me; making me its *****
Strange lips and unfamiliar hands cradle me
Satisfaction in this sense is only temporary
Criticism coming from every direction
Questioning whether my lifestyle is necessary
I’ve never enjoyed my naked predicament
However, it’s my only productive option
Allowing simpletons to simply have their way
Faking pleasure, keeping my pain locked in
After so much abuse, I try to be a man
Clothing myself again, ******* up the tears
The world has other ideas
Unleashing every one of my fears
Again, cold and abandoned
I find myself back at square one
Becoming a slave to the world
Just another form of prostitution
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 1:24 PM UTC
A thistle is just enough
to encumber a ruff
rider through the hills
never mind the flour mills
to process and possess
and gain interest
on fervent capital gains
which are not worth the pains
for glory be told
for those who'd rather be old
and grey without headfeathers
and times naught but better
have then the vanity
to spew chicanery
to delve into the society
of anti-sobriety
and them then who lost
streetwise cost
but for the depreciated stock
which will be bought up by the flock
will credit its debits
to gangs that met its
match to the makers
and the tough men shakers
who make it possible to move
product without anything else to prove
than to their mothers
dead fathers and brothers
that one can make a living
off of ******* soul ******* and killing.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 6:38 AM UTC
Reflection
will distort this moment—
(an oasis
in the desert of memory)
the simple
wonder of the instant diminished
as gemstones
depreciated by display upon
a gold band.
Focus fades
in inching instants
(a shutter
slowly closing over a lens)
and we
imperceptibly surrender
clarity
to these evanescing essences of
youth and reminiscence.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 9:35 PM UTC
Tears of creation
fall from the overcast blanketing
of the billowy, white fields overhead,
blended with a requiem
that only the absence of dawn could manifest,
and kissed upon
by the ever-fluorescent canvases
of smoke, and flame
that carelessly intrude
upon the horizon.
Oh,
how fastidious is the misting
that blesses this premature day,
invoking a spontaneity
within the mundane clockworkings
that symbolically define
the average,
the everyday
and the norm.
Glorious is this sight to behold.
Not only by our soulpanes,
but through the remainder;
our entire spectrum of sensory awareness
that we are so gifted to have received,
yet,
rarely do their values go little more
than depreciated.
The refreshment
that quenches our starving skin,
and slowly enfilms us
with the caressings of unrequited purity.
The dampening of the air
that perpetually enthralls
even the most tolerant
resisters to aroma.
The crispness;
unadulterated,
and without perversions of the modern day;
enrapturous are the resonant entrails of the strata
that ever so gently envelop,
and awaken our slumbering buds.
And finally,
but without conviction,
the resound of symphonic harmony,
abound with the alluring enchantment
that,
in seamless refrain,
could only be achieved
by such a reverent miracle of nature.
These are the moments in which I revel.
And blessed be Her,
who benevolently grants us
with such an immaculance
of cornerless beauty.
Graceful, and sacred is the oasis in the sky.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
No longer let our voices fall to a whispering
march of death. Jam your baritones and
inflections through songs for a god gone
dead
Make the earth shudder under your footsteps
as you let the wind take the pages like
a flickering flame
Make your presence known through the howling
sleet and rain - scream in the faces of distorted
kings, spit on their robes and **** in their eyes
Cast your fury like the waves and witness the smoke
of god vanish in the shadow of a cat, feast upon the
words that wither like the grass
Smear the self indulgent prophets in sweat and mud,
drown the child of the Euphrates and **** on his
holy stone
Go horse in your burning wrath, ******** wretched
Isaiah, suffocate him in the wallowing tears of Job,
let the blood of your hatred flow like wine
Drink of your consummate supplication steeped
in rage and disgust.
Let it sustain you to shake the pillars
and columns of his temple to the ground
Dictate your commands and bask in the boundless
power your existence brings to bear upon the weak
and know you and the fake god you hate
are one.
This is an old one from my depreciated poetry blog found here: http://www.letthewords.blogspot.com/
Nov 11, 2013
Nov 11, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
The value of appreciation has depreciated.
This is a cruel fact, I must say
For every action- we shouldn't expect a reaction
At least a ‘thank you’ would suffice
But no.
Stony glares and mockery,
That's what I ever get.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 5:28 AM UTC
A gift of his childhood,
His eyes clutch a tint of yellow.
The engagingness and fascination of the gift; depreciated.
Plunging in to the urn of gifts, my extremity latches on to the pleasingness of the yellow tint.
I with all my hearts desire,consign to the oblivion
of
~yellow tint.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 5:55 PM UTC
Fear is interesting.
It strengthens some.
Makes some irrational.
Cripples me in my tracks.
I fear, that I am not good enough.
Not for others, for myself.
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
Lost in her own reverie, she stared out the window
admiring nature's delivery and
remaining immobile like an alert black widow .
Even the infinitesimal of creations were deeply appreciated.
Unfortunately, her liberation has depreciated .
All forms of colour slowly fade to monochrome.
At first glance , trees and vast greens are luscious.
The sounds and mood of the earth are now monotone .
From the rambunctious days to contentious rules ablaze.
My sneaking suspicions of a partner has only made me still appreciate monochrome.
For now , that is all I can do as I constantly wonder ..
Dec 5, 2016
Dec 5, 2016 at 1:11 PM UTC
Please hold for an obligatory moment of silence, mute in its act, wordless in its perpetration.
Place artificial flowers on outer lapels, held in place with no concentration.
Feudal rivalries resurrected for resources and land…to be ripped from the native source’s hand.
Pitiful glances at battle worn soldiers, still praising ideology projecting them as a supported saviour.
Unregretful acts lead one to question their behaviour.
Service dogs doled out in bulk, preventing an army of PTS Banners from turning Hulk.
These discretionary acts of ill will mutilate the concept of freedom, and men who fought to uphold its worth.
These incendiary pacts on parliament hill, fumigating for roaches of aspersion, are bastardizing a new world’s birth.
Carriers’ return home, housing the long departed, not to be thanked, not to be appreciated, but to be ****** for unholy, sanctified acts.
Permitted parade zone, rousing the socially guarded, to be spanked, depreciated, and deemed unworthy to stand, before coyly rectified rats
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
With no possible maps nor signs
Higher than the Everest pinnacle
Braving poverty damning thorns
Against tidal waves of angst youth
Congratulations, you have conquered World War II;
There is not enough time for celebration--
You are the soldier
Onto your next battle
Depreciated in value
Shunned for weakness
Scorned as a burden
All battles must end with a narrated full stop
You did your best; you fought the good fight!
Time is too short for anything-- may you read this letter in heaven.
P. S: Congratulations, It was almost a century since.
Jul 27, 2016
Jul 27, 2016 at 12:09 PM UTC
*A day will come when those roseate lips will be wrinkled black
when that flexible and slender waist will be a bended back
when that hair you fried in search of exotic beauty
will one by one shed off until there's nothing left on your head
when that big sensual artificially induced *****
will progressively shrink and their bright shine will fade
time will come when your ballooned succulent firm *******
will deflate and turn into two flabby pieces of meat
when that graceful saunter that you've embraced
will be no more for those strong bones will be deadbeat
someday those bright eyes will be grotesquely sunken
toothless, your precious white teeth will all be broken
all those features that steal millions of souls and rob so many hearts
those that command respect and attract lustful love
from desperate suitors some of whom you feel don't deserve
will someday be depreciated and rusted invaluable parts
someday instead of being the art piece that you are
you'll be a pinnacle of horror to the oblivious of the beaut you were
you'll want love but only command passionate hate
enjoy your youth... right ahead awaits nature's terrible fate*
May 18, 2016
May 18, 2016 at 7:10 AM UTC
**I know the contours of your face,
time molded it like clay
depreciated by blue moons,
your eyes are still deep pools
of history's mysteries and grace,
lived a thousand deaths,
exhaled many more intentions
years have deemed you wise,
yet, you never falter to inquire
universal burning notions,
exactly why your infectious smile
appears younger than
springtime baby's breath**
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
I paint on my face a smile with gaunt eyes
let the thick black paint run as I then cry,
powerless, hopeful, juvenile and woeful
mouthing lyrics full of idolisation and little wonder
It wasn't what I'd confessed
intoxicated with ***** both cursed yet blessed
a Pariah of the teen age, from twisted adolescence reborn
weeping as pride lies at my feet soiled and torn
cross-dressing to impress the mirrors
using the inner freak to abstain my filthy measures
verging upon the cusp of a downward abyss
of severe mental health and nothingness
through smoke my vision's blurred
self respect depreciated and curdled
killing the strength that carried me through
looking at my reflection and thinking oh
you lil' wonder -
you lil' wonder, you
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 5:54 PM UTC
Effortlessly winging
on invisible thermals
high above
prey below
the raptor's natural dominion
steely talons stab
the surprised heart
taking rightful
sustenance
mundane predator
nicotine stained talons
among his prey
innocuous
invisible
rents in the fabric
of earthly interaction
grooming
grabbing
stealing
innocent mouse lives
feline precision
stunning his prey
sustaining breathing game players
with
chipped hearts
clipped tails
tight lipped
quiet mousy boys
in the shadow
of the predator's
earthy thermals
invisible
safety
assured with the stolen mouse voice
in his pant pocket
stinking
gasoline,oil, greasy chicken
twitching mouse nose
knows what his
sedated heart fears
shedding dry invisible
tears
he comes back
again
and
again
summoned by
a window signal until
he returns on
legs of betrayal
seeking
touch and predator love
unconscious
on broken knees
on the smelly
tool shed floor
eyes up
mouth open
viewing his depreciated soul
as merchandise
in the cheap
toy section of
woolworth's five and dime
eyes closed now
...and WALTER was his name-o
Jul 15, 2016
Jul 15, 2016 at 11:10 AM UTC
She lives in her books,
seeking fiction where there is truth.
“I’ll make it mine!” she cries,
seeking friendship in lie.
To be renowned, respected, revered
is her wish.
No longer depreciated, despised, detested.
“I’ll help you all!” she cries,
wanting to force what she cannot.
If only she’d stop and think,
maybe then she’d earn it.
Their trust.
Nov 13, 2017
Nov 13, 2017 at 2:05 AM UTC
Misattribution of arousal,
the sole destroyer of the purest.
Creator of both
fictional love stories and unwarrented sorrows.
The essence of emotion leaching onto what lies nearest,
deceiving both good and evil.
Evils potential being depreciated,
never given a second thought.
Anonymously causing casualties
almost effortlessly.
There is worth in being mindful.
Dec 24, 2017
Dec 24, 2017 at 4:49 AM UTC
Did you mistake empathy in my eyes,
my face deathly white and dead
as deep down something broken cries
I shattered myself and was born anew
from the blank numbness an epiphany grew
for why should I care about others
when I'm dejected by all, the darkness covers,
there are rings around my sockets
but I'm wearing designer shirts with fortune in my pockets
my words, once cracked, now slyly lilt
embers of mistrust glow from what I was built
the Thin White Joke has returned
and away the fog of depression he burns
a depreciated figure approaching from the darkness
his strength and bitterness I harness
for I'm desperate, I needed a way out
when I reached to those I loved they ignored my shouts,
so now I've turned to the cruellest corner of my mind
for I know with the Badrock Lover happiness I will find.
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 3:23 PM UTC
I can feel you slipping,
Losing grip of what makes you whole.
But instead, hanging on to what kills you daily.
What excruciates your heart,
Bruising your hand
And wetting your eyes.
My love, just let go.
Self worth never depreciated,
Why let it?
Appreciate it.
Do what works for you
Be selfish
Put yourself first and the world will remember the intense self-love you feel for yourself...
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 2:55 AM UTC