"despicable" poems
We conquer all worlds,
Sweet creature: melt my soul,
freshly thawed, vulnerability exposed.
Eager for unbridled wickedness,
within lilting rhythms of your magic.
So inviting, such interwoven seduction,
I discover that you are indeed, She.
The Mistress who cannot be denied,
so take my hand, I shall guide you,
while you, Dark sweet demigod,
Guide me to intoxicating magic,
magic that is you: and you alone.
Pour your evil charms upon me,
Stoke dying embers of my neglected power.
See the flames rekindled;
feel the comforting ice of my being,
savour my destructive cold fire.
Let me soothe you in return,
offering delicious despicable deeds.
Havoc wrought in your name.
The demonic glow inside grows,
until I fear nothing, Dark Mistress.
I am exalted in this vile inferno,
A conflagration of our own creation.
Dark destiny shall not desert us,
but shall become the favoured guide.
I shall never be without you,
Dark Mistress, and together,
We conquer all worlds.
© Paul Chafer 2014
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:52 AM UTC
A black crow's darting eyes
spans the wheat field
and an orange pumpkin patch.
She sees
tall grasses of brown
seedlings,
bristling in the wind,
soon to be bushels of grain
and a pumpkin pie that she never savored.
She sits, atop her tree perch,
at times warm and storybook,
hidden by tree branches,
and at times out of harm's way
and infamy.
Her friends, the sun, and clouds in concert,
dancing along.
Her other friends bring alms and smiles.
Life is so good at times.
Down the road sits a mill
next to a waterfall
and a cabin,
with reindeer horns
hanging above the doorway.
She is in her element, happy,
carrying for her nestlings.
Back and forth her parental eyes dart
the hilly fields, a smoked filled chimney, and her babies,
all crawling with sustenance and awe.
Storybook.
A mother feeding a worm to her baby.
Storybook.
Off to her side is not a blind eye
watching her,
scary stick figures of
straw tucked under red shirts and hats,
with a tied tinfoil strips dotting
her eyes and tease.
Scarecrows, cease.
At times life is good nature, hand in hand,
knock on wood.
If only life could be circumspect.
Than darkness filling the light
and a stutter of life.
For a sad page is turned,
pause
... tears.
Then, feathers fall.
Hers.
The sound of a thud.
Silence and tears of her friend's swelling.
A baby's cry, missing her mother.
More orphaned tears.
Who would be this despicable?
On that rogue day.
A kick of a donkey,
an ***
one bad rock on her path,
breaks the air,
as three little elementary kids were walking along
to school.
One, me, with a rock in his hand,
taking aim at her perch
and the death of the black crow's pages.
I confess.
... Bless me, Father, for I have sinned
it has been fifty years since
my last confession ...
a Tom Sawyer-like childhood gone worse.
I repent.
Some fifty years later I think of those first cairns,
including stealing the reindeer horns and milling
my brother and sister's storybook.
Waterfalls
stream tears, and a sorry boat
rowed downstream
sadly
thereafter.
Logan Robertson
7/25/2018
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:02 PM UTC
Aren't they supposed to be people, too?
Pigment is really that important?
They are not *****
A separate restaurant,
Drinking fountain,
Theater,
Bench,
Everything!
Because you can deal with "different" people.
They had "rights,"
But if they were considered people, the segregation would not have happened. They had no choice.
The conditions were worse.
How is that fair?
Hardly any jobs were open to them.
And I know you know exactly what I am
Talking about, but I never said once
That almost everyone called them that one despicable word:
******
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:24 PM UTC
My my, what a special little snowflake.
Why did you choose to be this way?
You chose to be different, you chose to rebel.
No binary for me!
You chose the grief, the pain.
You chose this abuse, bruised by
the verbal ferociousness, forged by physical fallacies
To be thrown out of bathrooms
because doing your business in the bathroom is abysmal.
You chose to be derided by decisive discrimination.
You chose to be murdered by misconceptions,
***** by ridiculous requirements.
You chose to be beaten, assaulted.
You chose the words I weave to weaken your will.
You chose the sacred sermons I spit at you.
You chose to be
What I find disgusting, despicable
because you chose to be what you aren't,
but I realize what I really regard you to be.
My my, what a special little bigot.
You think I chose to be this way?
You think
I chose the injuring, injustice,
the jester, the joke
the target, tortured,
This pain, my poison,
the prey, praying,
the sinner of sins so bittersweet,
So I could be "special"?
Special isn't a sacrifice of physical self
Nor the gunshots and gruesome grief
Nor even the crass comfort of a half-assed comrade.
You think I CHOSE this,
and you didn't choose
to spit and spew your sour speeches
to disperse your disgust in discrimination
to integrate your ignorance into my existence.
Or did you not choose
to deal the abuse
by your hand
yourself?
My special little bigot,
You live as you are.
So be it, if I am so "special", the special little snowflake.
Yes, we are the little snowflakes that your palm's presence melts away,
And you're that burning persistence of life
Blocking with your own self our slow, wistful descent,
As if it were futility and not of your own will.
If I am the snowflake, you are the fire.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:42 PM UTC
my darkest poems
bloodletting streams
are a kind of ******
fetishy cognitive inventory
malformed denizens
of the subconscious
a well of torments
soup of Salmonella
the souls gut
its cauldron
yet not with out lurid enticements
and voluptuous supplicants
gorgeous
like an eight legged woman
with beautiful feet
drooling **** lips
drunk on sacrificial rituals
of blood black tongued kisses
and hideous contorted pleasures
********
once
exquisite archetypes
gods and goddesses
are now
putrefied
cellar dwellers
moaning in nature bed crypts
of rock, stone
and engraved sigils
because honest pure desires
became fragmentary
and are now gimping amputees
by legions of primal disappointment
while faces blare in the world
like super bright L.E.D.s
shinning paths to others
our deep self
remains patinaed in tears
a black box pox with a lock
the skeleton key lost
in arcane seas
out of utter disgust
for those dark crawlers
that live within us
revealing them selves
as anxieties, depressions
suicides
and myriad quiet despairs
we appear undaunted
to others
and they to us
humanity
muffled ticks
and splintered sticks
my poems let my demons out
yoo who its me
my name is spray snake z
with my hooks and cries
and dark blood skies
in the misty night
i dragged out their earthen coffins
legends of the despicable
resurrected them
fed and loved those darklings
had every conceivable union with them
their healing, my own
ive sexualized them
and found love
albeit twisted
to be adored
in a hidden embrace
i bestow upon you a poetic fantasy
while obsession takes hold
bind it not
nor let it bind you*
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 9:32 AM UTC
*she said
being a feminist
i have forsaken the temples of normalcy
for dark gratifications and base seduction
and discovered that those who know the pleasures
of objectification
and frenzied ****** lucidity with strangers
are wiser then the children of sweetness and light
as marriage betrays the need to satisfy
secret dark labyrinths desire
and in its place
repeats ad nauseum
blunt fortitudes
in dim sunless rooms
for fear of the transgressive
satans *** nail
is conventions essential creed
exhaustions hand maid
rendered imagine-less
bereft of the new
until a mere stand in
for true desire is left
like a starved ghost
on a dead moon
a desiccated morsel
left for a hungry mouse
is romantic marriage a poetic conception
by love starved victorian imbeciles
vanquished in increments
by petty spats of blood and thunder
who know not the joys of the whips blood toothed kisses
purgation's brutal sensuality
and a creel
of ramming butter **** gang bangs
in secret fetish gardens
of cries and coos
that leave the *** wilted
and the soul lite
like a butterfly in heaven
slave girl asks
as hips sway
to sacred dionysian storms
in the smoldering pangs
of the heart
as backs writhe and arch
flex and sweat rhapsodic
and viscera panic with desire
are not such delicious degradations
pleasures ravage despicable
cause for an ecstatic celebration
kindling
fiery vapors incense
en-flamed dragons blood
for drooling kisses
that talk in tongues
in a language that everyone understands
infinitly preferred
over the rolling eyes of disapproval
in the tepid marriage bed*
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 5:48 PM UTC
Take away my pain and leave me in a state of pure ecstasy. Make numb or make me *** I'll vibrate to the enticements. I'll learn from these exuberant dispensations and try to configure our despicable conversations and discover the inequities of our relations.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
Why do you people
think it so despicable,
that I won't share my time
on occasions in which
I'm particularly ******* miserable
I'll give you my reciprocal,
I don't need your help
I'm strong as an individual.
And I do not, intend to be critical,
but too many choose to use emotion,
over thinking that's analytical
That's why i need to be alone,
Both mental and physical,
It's kind of a ritual, interaction is minimal
It's never been personal, it's more of a principle
I hope you'll find it forgivable,
I am sorry,
But I'm strong as an individual.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
Hey, remember me ?
I'm your despicable ex.
Showing off my body,
And make you miss the ***
Hey, remember me ?
Reminding you I'm always here,
I'm your worst nightmare,
Watching you scream in despair.
Hey, remember me ?
Hiding in the corner of your room,
I'm the scary doll of your childhood,
I hunt your thoughts, I hunt your soul.
Hey, remember me ?
I'm the memory you wish you never had,
The thing you wish you never saw
The fact you wish you didn't know.
Hey, remember me ?
I'm the stupid part of your brain
Saying creepy things at random moments,
Wanna get rid of me ? You can't.
Hey, remember me ?
I'm your current girlfriend,
Always here for you even if I'm am nothing,
Always telling you about my feelings,
Always trying my best to please you,
Always doing the best I can do,
So maybe all these things you don't know,
But I am here ; hello, hello.
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 12:45 PM UTC
Deplorable and horrible;
Despicable, abhor-able;
It reiterates, evaluates,
Desiccates, and exacerbates . . .
It never fails, to fall too short,
But always fails as a support . . .
In an attempt to be freed, it misleads to bad deeds
And creates a hunger -- vacuous,
Yet, impossible to feed.
It chases the light away,
And it longs to be alone.
So I am so ashamed to say,
That in my skull,
It found its home.
So I'll fight and fight against it,
. . . But I'll always lose the battle.
It seems that even as I trudge ahead,
That somehow I still straggle.
It is the artist, I am the instrument.
Like a light bulb to its filament.
Every day I'm at the bottom,
Forced to climb back up the hill again.
But I think the day has come . . .
When I've finally stopped walking.
I've reached a door that can’t be opened,
And decided to stop knocking . . .
It's me and who I've become;
It's my actions and what I've done . . .
So, as much as I despise it,
It seems my brain, and I, are one.
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC
Ornery odious ordinate ostensive opulence ornate optimal
Motivity meatus meticulous morsel moribund mendacity monstrance
Lucidity lingam loquacity longevous licentious lurid languishing
Votary volition verve venery vector vauntness vast
Talismanically telepathy tantamount terrestrial tellurian transition tractive
Idolatry -ics incus ictus ichor icon icky
Yogi yowl yore yoni yerk yenta yantra
Gimpy gesticulation genre gestational glitch genuflection grandiose
Dastardly douceur denouement denigrational deplorable despicable desperate
Paltry potentate portentous plagiaristic pandemic plenipotentiary plenary
Jouncy jocular jeopardy jettison jurisprudence jaunt juxtaposition
Ramify repartee radix recital rectitude rendition repertoire
Beastly bartizan bodacious belligerent brusque blatant blasphemously
Enmity exigency exacerbation extemporaneous edifice eulogy exoneration
Zoolatry zoomorphic zilch Zephyr zoic zygosity zealotry
Sultry solace subtlety substantiation suborn subliminal sensorium
Unity ultimatum usurping unfathomable uncanny unbridled unary
***** hornswoggle horizon huckster homogeny holistic heuristic
Nugatory notch nostrum notorious nihilism nimiety nimbus
Wrathy wreak wroth wrought wrest wrangle warranty
Artistry autonomy articulation agility acuity asperity acerbity
Keeky kangaroo court kowtow kobold kleptomania kinetics kinesiology
Xylography xenophile xerophilous xylophagous xylem xanadu xenobiotic
Critically credibility critique coercion conjugational conjunctive corporeal
Queasy quasi quantum quintessence quagmire quixotic quantify
Flighty flippant flamboyance faux pas fornicatious fictitious finite
Jan 22, 2013
Jan 22, 2013 at 5:31 AM UTC
A SOCIETY WRITTEN IN FLAMES; SHROUDED IN DARKNESS
*The tears flows in an endless way
Bemoaning the days of yore
Watching with eyes that sparks red,
Sunken and beaten from the tragedies of yore
Helpless and wishing for a relentless call
As tragedy hits her most sensitive part,
Bemoaning the tides,
All her days of glory,
Now a shadowy story*
*She had been ***** by her very own,
The children she yearned and bled for,
The men she fed and trained,
Where her rain fell full and vast, to soothe their hearts
Where she gave it all, and smiled, hoping that someday, they will realize her sacrifices and sleepless nights,
Her nights of terror and horrors
Where she stood in the midst of the stormy eerie night, shrouded in darkness*
*It was her ******* they ****** and clunged to,
It was her arms that shielded them from the shadows of the dark,
But when they grew and flew,
She waited still
Praying and wishing they would remember the days of yore*
*Then the dark hour rolled away,
And when morning came, it was harrowing.
It was harrowing how she waited abandoned and dejected,
As her sons and daughters peaked at the sky,
Trampling her down,
Relegating and belittling her
Painful it were, as she cried from the agonies of the days of yore,
Where she laid all her virtues down,
Giving it all to see her children smile,*
*It is this dejection that has brought her to tears,
It is this wickedness of a child to a mother, that has made her weep endlessly
It is this tragedy that have swallowed her glory,
As her children keeps flying above huddles, in peace and harmony,
Forgetting her,
It is this callousness, that pushed them to sapping her virtues and enriching themselves with it thereon*
*What is worse than a child abandoning his mother?
It is this penchant, that drives them
It is the love of greed,
It is the seed of corruption,
It is not an inherited trait,
It is a despicable decision
Like a monstrous shadow,
Twirling the back of the night.
It is the fire that burns within their heart,
The fire to **** steal and destroy
To take what she can never give again
To live,
To live big at the expenses of others sorrow and agony
It is this evil that has perused Nigeria and has rendered her a roaming wretch
And now tragedy looms,
It booms and blooms,*
A society written in flames
Who will save MOTHER NIGERIA?
Ovi Odiete© 2016, Oct. 31
All rights reserved
Note
Children here signifies the evil politicians and men that has sapped our country dry with their evil penchant
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 7:03 AM UTC
It's this type of imagery, attached with a dark memory
Me and you had the same chemistry
When you left you had to take a part of me
Like a piece of cake but no party please
Not to be rude, so please pardon me
My manners stay in order to support
Your last resort in this Runaway disorder
But, I'm fed up with this ******** now
Turned non supporter I will remain liberal
Cuz liberty is invisible, such a ****** tune
Your despicable, how ******* pitiful,
Something so close to mystical
Prove to be that practical, but not that magical
kind of classical ****
Give me something easy to remember like gifts from December
Though we're broke with no extra tender
and
if that's all she wrote
Please return to sender, here's something I can quote
Forgotten with a puff of that marijuana smoke
-V.v.V. Ds
Jul 16, 2014
Jul 16, 2014 at 1:54 PM UTC
Finite fictitious fornicatious faux pas flamboyance flippant flighty
Quantify quixotic quagmire quintessence quantum quasi queasy
Corporeal conjunctive conjugational coercion critique credibility critically
Xenobiotic xanadu xylem xylophagous xerophilous xenophile xylography
Kinesiology kinetics kleptomania kobold kowtow kangaroo court keeky
Acerbity asperity acuity agility articulation autonomy artistry
Warranty wrangle wrest wrought wroth wreak wrathy
Nimbus nimiety nihilism notorious nostrum notch nugatory
Heuristic holistic homogeny huckster horizon hornswoggle *****
Unary unbridled uncanny unfathomable usurping ultimatum unity
Sensorium subliminal suborn substantiation subtlety solace sultry
Zealotry zygosity zoic Zephyr zilch zoomorphic zoolatry
Exoneration eulogy edifice extemporaneous exaserbational exigency enmity
Blasphemously blatant brusque belligerent bodacious bartizan beastly
Repertoire rendition rectitude recital radix repartee ramify
Juxtaposition jaunt jurisprudence jettison jeopardy jocular jouncy
Plenary plenipotentiary pandemic plagiaristic portentous potentate paltry
Desperate despicable deplorable denigrational denouement douceur dastardly
Grandiose genuflection glitch gestational genre gesticulation gimpy
Yantra yenta yerk yoni yore yowl yogi
Icky icon ichor ictus incus -ics idolatry
Tractive transition tellurian terrestrial tantamount telepathy talismanically
Vast vauntness vector venery verve volition votary
Languishing lurid licentious longevous loquacity lingam lucidity
Monstrance mendacity moribund morsel meticulous meatus motivity
Optimal ornate opulence ostensive ordinate odious ornery
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
In school I never understood
No, I never could
what the point of it was.
What is the point?
I learned about math and science;
Good God, why am I so defiant?
So call me lazy.
Tell me my IQ is below average.
Well here's an image:
I'm actually smart I just hate
being a slave
to the system.
I almost missed 'em.
But they caught me
and now they got me
and all that I intended to defend
is left on the side of the street.
I'm rebelling
while they're trying to compel me
to stay put in my seat
like a ******* robot.
Well, I will not.
I gotta break outta this prison
but where's my bailsman?
This is my decision
and I've chosen
not to be broken.
My mind will escape unscathed
while yours will continue to be lathed
by those mechanical words
that they feed to you like birds.
And what's worse:
Is that you eat it.
You accept them.
You swallow down that indiscretion.
What a burden
but I don't feel sorry
for you tainted mind
because you chose it
when I warned you
that they'd change you.
And now you've become a slave to their holocaust
and you're so lost.
You can't even think your own thoughts.
It's despicable.
And it's not permissible.
You're stuck in their Utopia
and you're praising their allah.
Well God knows, it's not right.
So you gotta ignite
all your original thoughts and morals
cause honey they aren't your idols.
They are so pretentious
and utterly blinded.
Stuck under their bibles
but they aren't angels.
Break free from the system
come join my anthem.
Let's start a rally
and get more allies.
Join me in my plea
to be all that we can be.
To stand for what we choose.
I promise we will not loose.
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 3:49 PM UTC
Today heard I a train,
while I smoke my cigarette, I heard a train.
The rumbles came trundling over mossing steel street bars,
the hooves of an iron horse shattering glass floors-
pebbles bickering like stone woodpeckers on the grounds to come.
The wind shudders,
and apologizes for the frost on the leaves,
the cracks in the ground and the holes in the sky,
my cigarette part blur,
awkwardness so comfortable,
this plastic train i recreate,
moments in-between,
where we lay down to day-listen.
The kinsmen that forgot call blacksmith,
scared with his welded skin,
protection in battle,
drunken dichotomy,
a hero ***** dans l’amour.
As great the fall of king, the fall of next in line.
The only thing to have moved quicker with age, time.
Lest we forget, the blacksmith here reside;(unfinished)
While the angel hath walk,
with long grey and black web moth wings,
stalking its sleeping prey,
his eyes wide open back,
watching the angel pace,
infesting the air with despicable knots,
its dangerous to stare,
but a contest never started is a contest never won,
and into the eyes of hell the blacksmith hast stared-
to the foot of his bed.
Where a three headed dog flap its ice wings to keep hell cold.
These nights in particular had been an awful one, and again the tapping, again the train.
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 1:24 AM UTC
Engineering to the Bridge:
"Time passed, but without us. A bit like Kepler's third, I suppose."
Express your "law" another way. Throw rocks at the moon. Stone the satellite because of your own despicable sins.
I see demise in your face. There's something strange about the through lines of your crew, the yellow journalism of their spacewalk.
Posters of the wild frontier, staggered and torn, said nothing will go wrong. That sometimes death is merely the devil changing colors.
"I think not, Captain. You laugh when you should cry. You tear to pieces the pictures of the overtaken. You run from the lie detectors. Otherwise, your narrative falls apart and all you're left with is your withered mind funneling down a ****** abyss..."
Sep 27, 2025
Sep 27, 2025 at 5:44 PM UTC
The excursion of a mother commences when she EMBRACES the child as a boon,
A life long relevance emanated from your WOMB..
To enter into this wicked world i took a gap ,
To comprehend the despicable i stayed in your lap....
I ****** her blood, changed her appetite
I was no more than a PARASITE
She supplied me TONES of calcium
All my skeleton , all my FLESH she owns
She ENDURED those mood swings ,
Nausea, vomiting that i brought
He was expecting his heredity, his PRIDE
She was HAPPY that i exist,
She loved me from very start
I stole her breathe , but she embraced my heart......
From 1st trimester, because of her my heart is BEATING
If i didn't love her back that would be a CHEATING
A sense of TRUST that can't be broken ,
A depth of love sometimes UNSPOKEN....
You SACRIFICED yourself to evolve me like our heart as ONE ,,,,
A link that can never be UNDONE...
Jul 11, 2021
Jul 11, 2021 at 11:43 AM UTC
The stars hung low that night
To hail the girl who sat on the rooftop
Of a filthy run down cottage
At the end of the 'Homeless Women' lane
Her knees were scraped with callused fingernails
That bled against the chips on the wall she had climbed
To watch those pretty little things shine
And sigh with wonder against the solitary night
The emptiness in her stomach growled
But her wild eyes devoured the moon
Maybe the night resembled her tattered black dress
And stars were just despicable holes in the fabric of sky
Greasy auburn hair hung limp against her skimpy frame
Not many would find beauty on that haunted face
But there was a prepossessing in her pain
The way she never truly had things to lose
So she loved everything we seldom bother to.
It was a cold night on a full moon
The homeless girl breathed her last atop a red roof
No one remembers a slovenly girl with wild eyes
A homeless girl who died in her true home,
Her personal paradise.
Maybe she was only fifteen
But not many can claim
They've worn constellations on their body
Maybe she found her peace
And landed the stars while we were asleep
Maybe the way she died
Is the way most of us fail to live
Maybe we should love the way
A homeless girl once did.
May 3, 2018
May 3, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
I think I would like to make a home of your body
Like the dens I used to make with my siblings,
Before I started saying "no thanks".
To take a doctor's scalpel,
Clean and new and never used
And so very, very sharp
And to rest it in the hollow just where the breastbone ends.
Then to push it in along your soft smooth shiny skin
So unlike the mottled scarring that covers mine.
Down, down, down
To where you wear the waistband of your jeans.
A horizontal swipe at the top,
At the bottom,
Like making the fold of a window in a paper house.
Shh, is anyone home?
Lifting the heavy, wet flesh,
Your rib cage is so very white
And so very perfect
Like special cutlery for special occasions-
Births and weddings and funerals.
They hide your lungs,
Bloodshot and tired of the
Eternal
Moving and moving and moving on and on and on
Your stomach, soft
And vulnerable in its hideousness
Yet it hides the despicable necessity
Of human life.
And your heart,
Plump and fresh and young,
It is restless and strains
But for what when all that lies outside
Is incomprehensible and unnerving and unwelcoming.
So I will leave it all behind
And with damp heavy fatigue crawl
Into your torso like the unborn child
We have all been and will be again.
And your ribs will cradle me like a birdcage
That has grown so sick of the world,
And your organs will cushion and comfort me
When I feel that I do not want to live.
And blood will cover everything
Just as I have always wanted.
Flooding my eyes and nose and mouth and ears
And bathing me in the warmth, the constant gentle pounding,
That would make me feel alive.
May 13, 2014
May 13, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
Why?
Why did I do it?
Why did I start?
Why didn't I use my better judgement?
Oh I'll regret this
Every time that's what I say
"You'll regret that"
I say as I continue
Why don't I listen?
Oh my own selfish intentions and fear of getting caught
I can't walk down the same roads and streets because I'm afraid it'll happen again
I'm sorry for what I've done
But I just can't help myself
Stupid impulses and spontaneous action leads me to do the despicable
my arrogant "woe is me" attitude
I can't see what's wrong until its too late
And why?
Why did I do it?
I ask
As it happens again
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 10:04 AM UTC
just because you're dead
doesn't mean we aren't dating anymore
does it?
i am haunted
hearing you read a poem in my head,
dead
so we must have chemistry
or am i interminably obsessed
like a ghostly house
while your poems
have there way with me
rumbling down my phantom thigh
breathing
on the layaway plan
ghastly pumpkin in the oven
languishing gracefully
your generosity in death
a carnival ride of fascination
like a broken bird
to tormented to hold
your preference
hors d’oeuvres of rat poison
and verse
for the thin air road
a smudged face poets last word
in crumbs of burnt onions and charred meat
your so pretty in penny loafers
bare legs dangling
In this homeless corridor sunken in your blackened
idol of release
and that stupid stare
your weight no longer measured in grief
i was born to late
to die with you
to save a pretty nymph in a downward spiral
precious fertilizer of poetry fields
i'm fixated on your suicide pose
but you're too busy being dead
to give a ****
my sweet eyed snob of smiling hooks
i'm obsessively obsessive
for what could never be
and is
am i not your fan,
your creep?
if i pulled you from the oven
and rattled life
no doubt, you'd be all **** and vinegar
i'd be your despicable hero
a vampire
like a straight jacket of love you hate
your dead now poet of twilight
and i'm left here reading your poems
telling you softly
they are the best poems ever
and making believe
you love me
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Hours of staying up, contemplating
you missing me.
Eyes crying blood all over the floor.
My chest grew smaller, an engine room
with the pressure vandalised and turned too high.
Fuzzy vision and lungs not filling; not soaking
themselves with air.
I can’t breathe.
Why is it so cold?
Drunk on sadness;
it permeates my skin
making everything loose and intangible;
my bedsheets become suffocating surf,
rolling and crying and sick
alone on misty rocks.
The next step could be the cliff.
I saw you with a another girl today
How numbing it is to know you are definitely ok,
More than fine,
when all I crave is to know and see
pain and misery bleeding from your wounds too.
It isn’t selfish;
because I need to know if you felt something.
If you had felt anything as you delivered your
sorry, goodbye.
I need to know why I suddenly wasn’t enough.
Maybe I gave too much to you,
and you were’t ready for it.
But maybe it was you.
You pictured a future
together, saying you had never felt this way before,
about anyone;
until you woke trembling, sweating one morning
realising the cruel hoax your heart played on you; as a fool
you listened.
And as a fool you made me crawl along at your knees.
As a fool you blindly made me ****** in the dirt for something
that proved to me you loved me.
Truly and deeply meant the promises you said.
That the words which passed your lips
were sacred, gospel and bathed in love.
But you fooled yourself.
And it was despicable for you to fool me.
I saw you with another girl.
How does it feel, wondering how I know and feel?
Or do you believe I’ve forgotten you?
Snap of the fingers, forged a new grove beside
someone else on the waiting list.
I’ve been with another man.
Though you haven’t seen it.
Perhaps even two.
Come and go in the life you always knew.
I don’t wish to hurt you,
but moving on means I have to.
I have to drive a knife beneath your skin
and watch you contort in pain.
Just like I did then.
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC
Harm no one, the inevitable thought of a miniscule Agamemnon,
The insufferable, the pious, the deceiver,
And the devout, the sheep, the lamb,
Lead me I follow, Follow me I will train you,
Despicable, For here there is only nothingness disguised as a cruel sacrifice,
I believe in nothing, in circles, in patterns, in physics, in atoms within atoms, in life that studies itself,
I believe in the arts, in music, in poetry, in dreams that are breathed into existence through an artists touch,
I believe in family, in pure love, in unconditional acceptance, in forgiveness and the cultivation of hope,
I believe in people, who's emotions rage like the sea, who's ideas raise whole cities, who's dreams are to find peace and understanding, who sometimes are misled but are never beyond the good within themselves,
I believe in life, in growth, in the earth, the mother of us all and the sun, the father that watches his children basking in his warmth, I believe in trees that give us oxygen and water that gives us life.
And so I believe in the underdog, the unseen, the overlooked, the underrated, and the unappreciated, I believe in the here and now, the present moment, the kiss, the dance, the wine, and the open hand. There is nothing of your cold religion, or your angry god that I need. Because life is all around me and beauty is in all things here and now and forever.
Space spirals on and the river of time still flows in all directions, it is eternal this holy thing and it is without end, no mans demonic godhead will ever bring it down and this disease called religion will eventually be cured.
Jan 11, 2013
Jan 11, 2013 at 2:37 PM UTC
Little monster couldn’t walk quite right
Her legs ached and burned at times
The healer didn’t have a cure
And the ones at “home” said it’s nothing more
Than monster’s own creation because
She’s a wretched creature displaying loss,
Always a burden for the ones who care
And no more did they want to bear.
“Little monster, you filthy girl,
Leave the house and find some work.
You leech at our money, our love and care,
And then complain of pain everywhere.
You despicable monster, weak of mind,
what will you gain from studying time?
I wish you’d leave right now, but wait,
You’ll only ruin your family’s name.
We came together for your happiness,
You hateful thing, why do you make a mess?
“I’m in pain, I’m in pain” it’s nothing but a ploy
You little worm, with emotions you toy.
Leave, you ***** get off my mind,
You know no love, so how can you find
Pain in my words, you’re just a rock,
I wish you’d die, you ruinous block.”
Monster girl fled from those words
‘I’m alright’ she said till she was numb.
In this vast world she felt alone,
With trees she talked of finding more.
Her body ached as she fell to the ground
Watched the stars till it was cold around.
A piece of glass was what she could own
Without being a weight on other souls.
This jagged piece reflected the light
From the moon and thousand fireflies,
Little girl thought the world was so nice,
But alas, she was just a monster in night.
She heard from the house her father’s voice
As he talked about her as a screeching noise,
She rarely spoke and yet she was
The pain in the ears of the ones she loved.
I won’t cry anymore, she pledged,
Her room alone knew that she wept,
So often times she thought of hanging herself
But she wasn’t sure she could bear being out of breath.
And so it was she held a piece of glass,
Shimmering, it seemed like her freedom at last,
If only she was a human girl,
Pretty and lovable, she wouldn’t hurt.
Little monster girl smiled to herself
She wouldn’t cause pain to other selves,
The stars would remember that she had tried,
The sun would know she had no respite.
The glass glided over her soft dark skin,
Where only bruises marked her wrist thin,
Little drops of blood became more,
Little monster thought of happy lores.
“And they lived happily after” she mumbled quiet,
Her dark eyes closed to moonlight,
A firefly sat on her cold forehead
Thinking her to be a creature dead.
As the mist rose, she fell asleep,
The moon watched over her peaceful dreams.
As the moon’s lover rose
So did she,
To the worst nightmare that could ever be.
Oct 31, 2018
Oct 31, 2018 at 2:15 PM UTC