"detestation" poems
Clouds and pressure, gray skies blowing
Lightning stabs electric flowing
Thunder bursts like a heavy drum
Ears are hurting from the thrumb
My visions clouding turning black
Hate and anger, rage attack
Shouting screaming arms unstilled
Fury flows and hope is killed
Hate......so much disdain, loathing, detestation
Pain burns, an inflammation
It creeps and crawls beneath my skin
An evil thing that dwells within
Horrid gross it swells and swims
Extending into all my limbs
I cannot stop this terrible storm
And when I see your beauty form
It slows and stalls and loses heat
Then it dies but not complete
Something hidden, always there
This evil presence in my lair
May 6, 2010
May 6, 2010 at 12:45 AM UTC
My shattered life is like the forsaken Black Widow spider.
The victim's detestation does not even show passion to me.
I bit my victim in two and also hurt them in the process.
The more I hurt my victim in the process, the more woe I have
and hope they are still my friend tomorrow.
The deeper I sink my teeth into my victim,
the more fatal my poisonous venom becomes and hope the fatal
poison doesn't execute them.
I think of all the hard times I've had, just by being nice and
friendly, but it does not work.
When I let go of my victim and hope they do not smash me,
But have the time, I get squashed and hope my sin are forgiven.
Then time was wasted for unanswered dreams and in the process
making new friends.
But I never did.
Life has gone without a prayer, without friends and for someone
to love me.
The next time you see a Black Widow spider, ask yourself,
"Could my life be like a Black Widow spider's?"
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 8:37 PM UTC
It's getting kinda old,
You know..??
I'm drained and tired,
Worned out by your fights.
Our fights.
Your words always accepted,
While I bury mine unspoken.
The one sided fight,
Where the opponent is silent.
No,
This isn't fair.
But fair doesn't exist.
Fair is a word that is created in fantasies,
Fair is a word spoken only in fairy tales.
I want this to stop.
We want this to stop.
Wait, don't you.....?
You don't speak the words,
But your actions strongly differ.
With every moment we spend together,
You explain to me the answer.
Why,
Why you treat me different now.
When nothing has really changed.
Your abhorring stares and frowns of detestation.
You tell me,
I don't belong here,
I took away your freedom.
I deserve to die.
You want me dead.
May 20, 2013
May 20, 2013 at 4:02 AM UTC
Silent
is the barred mind
of a Girl
of a Boy.
Colored prints
of my colored prints,
and America wasn’t great
to those whose hands build it.
And their anthem plays on,
disguising detestation as protection
resentful the Sun’s
never made love to their complexion.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 7:09 PM UTC
What lies in your eyes
are the lies that I despise
doesn't come close
transparent as a politician
yet I still listen
in hope that my optimism
can twist it
into something I can believe.
Your smile can erase
every trace
of my abiding detestation
for something as smile
for a moment
for a while.
I trust the haze I feel
the curtains which in my heart
only absorb the light
in my mind
I know there is only the devastation
of your cold night.
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 2:34 AM UTC
My stomach flips
When I think of you.
My head spins,
my hands shake and
my legs palpitate at the
thought of losing you.
I enter my own world
of the blues where the
monody is being played.
I see the Dybbuk with it's
venomous blood thirsty beasts
dancing to the lugubrious ditty
It's a place of hatred and detestation
where love doesn't exist.
A place that's perfect for your
Stygian soul
As soon as I look into the Dybbuk's
red boiling eyes the memories sneak
out of my eyes and roll down my cheeks
The pain I feel is unbearable and inadmissible
And all I can think of is a way to escape
from this love prison.
But oh, I realized a little too late
that you're the king of the sinners
and you turned and twisted my heart
and I'm just another victim of your favourite crime...
Jan 1, 2016
Jan 1, 2016 at 4:32 AM UTC
Crazy
Wild and free,
Climbing the earth
In nature's tree.
Sipping the suds
From bubbly seas.
Creating love
Out of detestation's
Seethe. Scribbling
Quick the words
I know, I am the
Poet
You seek
To know.
My vibes you
Take in, from them
You grow, from you
I glow, because you
Are all
My inspiring
Muses.
Mar 28, 2016
Mar 28, 2016 at 6:53 PM UTC
The days where you were respected have become a memory
But it’s going to take a century to expunge all the damage you’ve done
And rewrite the wrongs that you’ve held as a nation of conviction
The world looks with weary eyes as the skyscrapers climb
In the name of bombs dropping, wall street journalism, and cash flow
The initiative that everyone is judged by the actions of corrupted officials
Humanity ruined in the eyes of offspring growing into a world of detestation
The silence of the unvoiced majority grows louder as the streets crowd
We are not the same and we are not part of the hidden agenda
Of world ********** civil suppression, and authoritative tyranny
Apr 20, 2012
Apr 20, 2012 at 8:07 PM UTC
Her pants will not ascend up the body.
They exhibit the various mountains and valleys of exhibition
that exhibit all and every stifling opening in the land between the limbs.
The progenitors apparently never trained the lass in class.
Her pants will not ascend the body.
I slam the image processor shut
and beg the higher powers for more cloth
but the portrait remains hung in the palace,
exhibiting, exhibiting, exhibiting,
weakness and detestation in the wake of insomnia,
for she can spine-chillingly be pictured in the movies they show,
the ones with palm and sand and *********** for all.
When the tape ends its shift as a documenter she still exhibits,
plagiarizing the greats like a trombone entertaining itself with exhibition,
its brass perpetuating nausea and its horn emanating
aromas of catastrophic consequences
while it sits there like a ********** echoing the words of the vivacious
director in the silk scarf of silhouettes and the exhibition of pure animosity,
that pops and fizzles like the dying carcass of an ****** ridden rodent
who decrees that Cersei is the finest in the land.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:09 PM UTC
And then the wind came…
Out of the house I stormed
I stepped onto the ground
Thanking it for being the only thing holding me up
And then the wind came…
The wind came and wrapped its cool arms
Around my heart
Stroking my hair and
Giving me the comfort I needed
I then looked at the ground in detestation
Cursing the ground for locking me upon it
The wind reached for me again
But the earth forced me down, down, down
Never to feel the comfort of the wind again,
Leaving me to think of how I wish the wind had never come.
Sep 21, 2010
Sep 21, 2010 at 4:09 AM UTC
in the tsunami of self loathing,
i am not going to swim,
i am sitting numb,
staring at the walls,
questioning myself,
why am i this way?
why can't i be what they want me to be?
why can't i?
i hear the waves of ocean of detestation,
crashing on my mind,
destructing my trueself,
shaking the buildings of my self confidence,
i can feel the water filled inside my lungs,
and this time,
i am not swimming,
i am not trying to save myself,
i am drowning,
and i don't want anyone,
to save me from drowning,
coz i know,
they can save me from demons,
but no one can save me from myself....
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 10:51 AM UTC
I live in a world,
full of magic and creatures.
Where no one can find me,
hiding in it's features.
A place all of my own
Where I call it my home
It lives in the back of your mind,
so someday I'm sure you'll find,
the wealth and beauty that lives within us.
They call it imagination.
Well call it detestation
of the world we once knew.
Now its all falling,
because of their calling
my home a world of make believe.
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 2:55 PM UTC
A white lily
floating down the river Styx.
Untouched by detestation.
Is she my hope?
my warmth?
my salvation?
Or is she something else,
Meant to drag me under?
Plunge me into Cocytus,
my flowing lamentation?
Jul 26, 2011
Jul 26, 2011 at 10:43 PM UTC
Feeling like the end of an era.
The era of
respect
and communication.
The era of mutual
agreements
feelings
interests.
The end of an era
of
trying and
caring and
giving two *****
The end of an era of
pursuing and
speaking and
engaging.
The era of introspection,
and reflection,
and self detestation.
The end of the era of
strained relations.
It was the era of
“I love you”s
And I wanted to end it
with an era of
honest responses.
Go home,
you’ll be fine.
Dec 3, 2013
Dec 3, 2013 at 8:23 PM UTC
There are countless of metaphors I could create to express how much you mean to me, but the one idea I haven’t quite put into words is this; when there’s a warm breeze brushing against my skin, there could be a storm tearing down the trees in your backyard. While Florida’s gust of wind is messing up my hair or calming down my anxiety for the night, a Texas thunderstorm is tearing your house apart, and the reason for your last breath. And now the trees in your backyard aren’t the only thing the storm tore apart, but my heart too with every grain of faith left in me. The Florida wind isn’t going to mess up my hair this time, but the Texas catastrophe will mess up my mind and the love we once shared from a distance. A person’s last breath and the narrative of it has never been more important to me. Thoughts rid me of sleep when this is what they whisper; the detestation of the miles between us only multiplying, wishing it was you whispering sweet nothings only inches between us instead. Wanting your fingertips brushing against my skin instead of the breeze in the middle of the night. There are too many moments I long to, not have sun kissed skin, but my skin kissed by you instead. I just pray the trees stay in your backyard and you become the reason my hair is a mess because I’m tired of giving the credit to this dreaded Florida wind.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 10:07 PM UTC
Glazed in white this porcelain skin you entrap me in,
I am sundered from the beauty that clings in detestation
My beauty like a crystallise will be fragmented from here.
Slate crevasses like a web clinging to the surface entwine
Aloft as they perch on every part of its superficial holdings
They edge ever deeper till all that was pearl now descends.
Cascading into oblivion where like autumn leafs magenta tears
Descend like ruins that now like coal wisps fade to nothing.
Now there is exemption from what manifested in thought.
This lingering lucent thought given form, but never seen,
Light permeated off its featureless misgivings a kaleidoscope
Of emotions ran free touching all surrounding, static now standing.
There stood a moment of porcine imprisonment ,featureless
Yearnings to touch, but then a tear of crimson detached and a
Rose web did start to ascend from where it collapsed below.
The circle of what would be what was only a matter of time
Created where form became static then birthed in non caporal
Form touching those near as it had yearned all that time before.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 5:12 PM UTC
I had spent the majority of my life dosed up on antipsychotics,
pills floating in my stomach in a desperate attempt to flood my brain with sanity.
Grown men and women asking me questions and then putting me somewhere with white, cushioned walls.
And if I did so much as raise my hand to defend myself, i'd find myself being restrained by men in white clothing.
I never really saw daylight.
I'm writing this letter to whoever may read this as i need to apprise of why I did such a thing.
I selected the first woman I saw, I saw plenty of women within the white walls, but none with a complexion so beautiful and so unique.
I had this urge since I could detect detestation,
It was as if i needed to make my mark on the world as I has not done so before.
The urge seemed infinite, I could not cease the sensation.
The last thing I saw in her eyes was my reflection.
That night, I watched her blood drip from the coffee table to paint the carpet red,
I watched the whites in her eyes grow more intense,
And that night I lost my virginity to the most beautiful woman I had ever met.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 1:37 PM UTC
Dreams shrink with age and our aging bodies
follow
Disappointment underlines the expectation of
self
Deprivation withholds participation from true
form
Death in shallow waters and the stream of
always
Downfall isn’t anything without the rise of
hope
Dawn sprouts life on days we don’t
believe
Detestation dwindles when our first choice is
love
See?
Apr 7, 2019
Apr 7, 2019 at 12:28 PM UTC
A REVERSE POETRY
-read from bottom to top
stop hoping for the future
gaze for the stars and don't ever
stop hating yourself
please, I tell you
you’re truly a humiliation
don’t ever believe that
you shine in my eyes and mind
because you really, as a person,
change me on who I become
never be scared to
make yourself torture in hatred
not in a million years you'll try to
be the epitome of perfection
because you will
be forever loathed by many
never believe that you will
always be the person I loved
reminisce the memory and
be the detestation in my mind
don't every try to
convince yourself that you are a treasure.
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 10:15 PM UTC
The buzz of the computer gets me down
does’t stimulate it at all
condemned to doing nothing
****** to worthlessness
a zero with nothing to lose and nothing to win
drowning itself in chaos of meanings
with no final meaning in sight
sure sure
death will be the final meaning of it
there is one more year left
maybe more maybe more
one more year is like one hundred of them
and it wants to sin
for that short feeling of freedom
flattening itself on the ground and twitching
flattening itself on the ground and twitching
saying anything that comes to its mind
making noise
with some ability to defend it against the rest of the world
provoking distress and detestation
always somehow trying to throw others into the arms of disillusion and pain
tchutchutchu
childishly trying to do what others don’t
with little success
destroyed by its inability to understand feelings
still the same piece of ****
a zero asking for being erased
with nothing to say
with poor style
with no gentle moments anymore
repeating itself all the time
boring and lifeless
faceless
a desperate but sometimes convincing actor
hopeless writer
mean
ugly
weak
lazy and soft
not a man but it
a cry-baby
with undefinable ambitions
like doing something that would touch somebody
like make others trust it
by saying the ******** it usually says
like gaining unspeakable high virtue
by being something close to a *****
genius, indian, bohemian, child and pig
not knowing what it does or why
not knowing what it does or why
drinking too much
shaking legs under the table endlessly
eating too quickly
making everything around stained and *****
smoking too quickly
hating itself
adoring itself
stupid
animal
with a few natural instincts
making too much about itself
with no will
strength or (chances to stay)
not even strong enough to **** itself
with no peace
with no love
with no listeners
zero
with nothing to lose
and nothing to win
how can anybody trust it
how can anybody trust it
people beware
it ***** you up
with no peace
with no love
with no listeners
zero
with nothing to lose
and nothing to win
how can anybody trust it
how can anybody trust it
people beware
it ***** you up
——
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 3:03 AM UTC
I had spent the majority of my life dosed up on antipsychotics,
pills floating in my stomach in a desperate attempt to flood my brain with sanity.
Grown men and women asking me questions and then putting me somewhere with white, cushioned walls.
And if I did so much as raise my hand to defend myself, i'd find myself being restrained by men in white clothing.
I never really saw daylight.
I'm writing this letter to whoever may read this as i need to apprise of why I did such a thing.
I selected the first woman I saw, I saw plenty of women within the white walls, but none with a complexion so beautiful and so unique.
I had this urge since I could detect detestation,
It was as if i needed to make my mark on the world as I has not done so before.
The urge seemed infinite, I could not cease the sensation.
The last thing I saw in her eyes was my reflection.
That night, I watched her blood drip from the coffee table to paint the carpet red,
I watched the whites in her eyes grow more intense,
And that night I lost my virginity to the most beautiful woman I had ever met.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 3:20 PM UTC
Hallucination detestation
What makes you so real?
If seeing is believing
I say, show me what you feel
We all set sights on something more
Invisible design
But clothe the naked eye should it paint
Dreamscapes of divine
And mystifying possibilities that redefine the mind
Into a monkey god thesaurus
Quite synonymous with time
In of which chakras to unlock
Have no beginning, middle, end
There is merely being present
In the peace you must defend
And the source of its creator?
Is an omniverse immersion
Flowing through the world around you
Bathing you in the conversion
Of obliterated egos
To the one who reigns supreme
A monarch metamorphosis
No lesser king or queen could deem
Unworthy of esteem
Because you are the soul master
Of your consciousness regime
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC