"deviant" poems
I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a ****** deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am shy and I am outspoken
with a heart of stone, easily broken.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
an occasional liar just keepin' it real.
I am weird and lovely and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 3:50 PM UTC
1.
Nymphomaniac-addicts,
Overweight bisexual vegetarians
Climbing trees to stay fit
and eating 80’s fried chicken *******
2.
just imagine
Aquarians full of class valedictorians
Swimming on display for graduation ceremony…
reverse-symbolism of how Moolch drowned His *****
3.
Better yet, just imagine
Holy wars,
Beautiful words written to describe the burning pains
Of holocaust...the Kristallnacht nights
Under the mistletoe,
Watching Hall of fame ball hawks on pivot toes
Driving through hoes
After the whistle blows
4
College Literacy classes teaching basic:
Ideas that good questions leads to good answers,
Reading reminders
Free association conceptual constructions
5.
But ************ professor:
free association **** shticks
misfires, false alarms
are all art, too,
Like sticking a dagger into an apple,
Not the edible, but the technology.
6.
Go head, deconstruct the philosophy
Of oral cute-tification,
according to the Tautology of Leviticus,
With the same three half truths, pogroms
against biological deviant... FLAGS!
7.
Cryptic gospels of a ************
Where three F.F.F’s
Stands for six six six
Like how 1mg of juxtaposition
And a dose of metamorphosis
is the repertoire of a king of curmudgeon
‘cause even the Holy Ghost
drinks from the cup of Christ’s blood.
8.
Reading,
Self-flagellation gospel-manual of Pope John Paul II,
At shrink sessions under the daze of heron Piper methysticum blunts
With sweet phat butts like lit lickerish that droop eyes
Like the psalm of Valeriana officinalis root extract.
Feb 12, 2012
Feb 12, 2012 at 12:46 PM UTC
Spy on this
not because I'm a deviant "ist"
of some dangerous ideology
No, I cannot hold on to anything so strong
What a scary time for those alive
whose key logs match that terribleness
just a little bit
"Oh, but she was so non-violent"
No, it's media martyr silence
Freedom of speech?
See how careful I am - just typing?
But for most the danger is in all our numbers
Algorithms for shopping patterns
voting and religion too
We give our attachments to them freely
so I say "hello there," maybe lone computer
or programmer
soulless, or believing Brother's benevolence
-Not here for the poetry
Jul 7, 2014
Jul 7, 2014 at 12:48 AM UTC
A simple cafe
The woman with the latte
I see her
Those peach pink lips
Your jeans fadded blue
Blonde curly hair
Skin so fair
Oh the things I would do
Across the room
Her Carmel colored skin
Brown long hair
Breast perked so
Coke bottled body
And you
Oval shaped eyes
Sun kissed freckles
so fun sized
Burgundy bleached hair
Suckulant grape lips
Thick curved waist
Coffee hazeled eyes
Eyes....
She pierced my sight
I glanced back
She knows I'm looking
My deviant thoughts
Tension rises
Three seconds four and five
I break contact I head to the door
Stumble
******
She's at the door
Our bodys touch
"Hey do you dance"
I so dance
Respond
"Yeah I do"
" well you should meet my boyfriend
He does to"
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 5:46 AM UTC
Dark hair tied back.
Blue eyes pointed front and center.
Tats two on her back and shoulder
Black stocking satin strap.
Knee-high; hard to measure.
High - heels they just climb forever.
Spread thighs hypnotized his eyes.
Deep breath watching her chest rise
Wide eyes she looks posterized,
long strokes that disappear deep inside.
Deeper sighs I can feel the vibes,
nail marks across his chest,
blood dried just follow the X.
Move slow make her want it more,
said wise speaking from experience.
Handcuffed cause she likes to be a deviant.
Lips sealed, around his **** like she’s practicing keeping secrets.
Hair tied back cause that’s how Sir told her to keep it.
Legs wrapped around his waist, at a right angle, so Sir can reach it.
open wide like Simon says, She reacts so, Sir doesn’t have to repeat it.
Firm grip on her waistline, but there is no wasting time.
Twitching hips, tighten his grips, as she whines,
in joy of the loving being deployed.
Toes curled the pleasure can’t be denied.
Slip slide the more she moves the harder he grinds,
smooth ride the way their bodies coincide.
Deep ****** they combust, as they collide,
come inside her, like a gentleman,
he gives her, a piece of his mine.
Apr 8, 2020
Apr 8, 2020 at 3:17 PM UTC
slip my hands around your throat
slip my blade though your vein,
Little monster.
Throw the first punch
you're already dead
why not die twice?
Theres already blood on my hands.
Guilty pleasures of the deviant mind
scratches down the spine,
Bite marks along your side,
Love bites across your collar bones.
my little monster,
Make a sound
leave your moans down the hallway.
Latex gloves against the skin,
Making his incision
victims lie screaming
eyes wide open
he looks down
for he found his little monster,
Within.
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 2:32 AM UTC
I know of a world with magic in the air
Flights of fantasy and the most enchanted sea
I'll take you there
Show you the forests of the fair
All you have to do is follow me
The oceans will take your breath away
Mer scales glimmer as they shed in currents
Dive down in the bay
And mind the seaspray
And you can catch one if you make sure to hurry
Deep in caves, dragons meet our eye
Guarding hoards of gold and jewels
But they leave to fly
Throughout their own wide open sky
And that's when you disrupt their accrual
Higher in mountains, gryphons make their lives
Wingspans like whirlwinds: mighty and wide
But diets on which they thrive
Can't keep them forever alive
So take a talon which'll never again glide
Mer scale, talon and stolen gem
I like these souvenirs so far
And when I look at them
Checking over again and again
We can make a potion of stars
But there are a few more ingredients
We need to brew our magic
I'm a potion genius
And also a bit of a deviant
Who cares if this gets a bit tragic?
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:18 AM UTC
When in Bohemia, she screams about
Her pastures green, but not too loud
So never have I known, that the world listens too
As a comedian, I see she belongs
But never conforms, to the song of
This nomad world, I'm glad she found it too
So run! She wants to run again
You vagabond, you're well-spent
Bohemian tendencies says, “you can't stay long”
“These kinds of commons, you won't ever get along”
Armenian, it’s such a release
Materialistic animosity
The speed of life has no value, like dollar signs
I loved an alien, who dabbled in art
Of all visage, enema of the heart
Wanderer, she's spent so much but there's that bliss in the air
So smile! It's all sorts of worthwhile
To see a world and not fret so much
Bohemian tendencies says, “be spectacular
Before the nebula men steal your fur”
In the Caribbean, you dream a kite
As your taxi, you can't walk all the time
Travel hills of puce-mauve sands, the world in trance
A true deviant, the thinking of
All dreaming thoughts, and loves begot
Tinkerer, what will we do when our brains run dry?
Oh, no! Don't think about the end
To love a life in due pretence
Bohemian tendencies says, “think fair, live now”
“The world is watching with distaste of time in doubt”
As a chameleon, should she go alone?
The world is cold, except for times in colour
Her world in dance, she'll do without me
When in Bohemian, the first I've seen
Of pastel stencils through her happi-
Ness-tled in her loft home of the wind
There she goes! Ain’t she a lovely wing?
I hope she finds a world that sings
Bohemian tendencies says, “to love and to hold
But to let go, for treasures can mold”
There she goes
There she goes
There she goes
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 3:39 PM UTC
Brother Iran
by Michael R. Burch
Brother Iran, I feel your pain.
I feel it as when the Turk fled Spain.
As the Jew fled, too, that constricting span,
I feel your pain, Brother Iran.
Brother Iran, I know you are noble!
I too fear Hiroshima and Chernobyl.
But though my heart shudders, I have a plan,
and I know you are noble, Brother Iran.
Brother Iran, I salute your Poets!
your Mathematicians!, all your great Wits!
O, come join the earth’s great Caravan.
We’ll include your Poets, Brother Iran.
Brother Iran, I love your Verse!
Come take my hand now, let’s rehearse
the Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam.
For I love your Verse, Brother Iran.
Bother Iran, civilization’s Flower!
How high flew your towers in man’s early hours!
Let us build them yet higher, for that’s my plan,
civilization’s first flower, Brother Iran.
Published by MahMag (translated into Farsi by Mahnaz Badihian), Other Voices International, Thanal Online (India), Deviant Art, Portal Vapasin (Farsi). Keywords/Tags: Iran, Iranian, Farsi, Persia, Persian, brotherhood, culture, civilization, poetry, literature, poets, mathematicians, philosophers
Mar 26, 2020
Mar 26, 2020 at 3:06 AM UTC
she calls it
the BIG V
a ****** name
tasteless
but accurate
it is
BIG
very
B
I
G
stretched out
used
sold for such
a low price
*****
**********
*****
****
****** deviant
not exactly
a role
model
not some
saint
by any means.
I've seen it.
perhaps I will
never have
***
if other women
look like that
vaginas
like gaping holes
holes so large
it makes your
*****
seem superfluous
a thin branch
against a muggy
night sky
"did you bring
protection?"
she asks
I can only imagine
why she should
ask me that
am I in danger?
what monsters lurk
in that
bottomless cavern?
I want no part
in this expedition
I do not want to go
spelunking
Nov 2, 2012
Nov 2, 2012 at 8:51 PM UTC
When I was younger, I would wait for him
to die. I loved him - at least I wished I did.
He used to be my D.A.D., and acronym.
Remaining in the mobile home, amid
his “hidden” *** toys and unlocked arsenal-
when he would return, my brother and I hid.
His I.Q.? Soaring, but he lacked a soul,
he killed kittens for fun and never got caught.
Covert sociopath; maintaining control.
Court ordered visits left my mother distraught,
she wrestled the system over us for years,
our knight in shining armor that always fought.
The battle was won after many shed tears -
to a ****** life we forged, pioneers.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
"So you like boys AND girls?!!"
"You must get laid all the time!"
"Which do you like more??"
"So.. What are you any way?"
Questions.
Stupid questions repeatedly asked because
My sexuality is deemed important to others whom consider themselves curious.
Because since I know that love is equal and
Can be given to any gender or no gender at all,
But all people talk of is
Labels
I have been confused as bisexual, lesbian, and straight. I have been called a deviant,
A *****
A disgrace;
All because I chose love over labels,
I chose happiness.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 11:30 PM UTC
What happens
____ to space______
between us
This is the
human race
Ah, Vey?
Just pray
Overly smitten
But not seeing
clearly picture-prey
He or she runs!!
Little darlings
here comes the sun*
The lime doing the time
Falling trees of coconut
Feeling- overloved
Deviant artist
splat coconut milk
No Security Cat
comfort box
So out of recession
Killer fox______
Chocolatey coconut
Cleanse my mind detox
Almond Joy concession
Rise up Face Botox
He cannot
read you
Haywire always
wired up his words
Hurried Hazelnut
coffee if you mind
Over-sugared
Increased brain
functions bitter rinds
So commercialized
The Cocoa Puffs
Going bananas
monkey ***
Lexie Vamp Vex
Mr. Ed overload
of Oz colors baboon
Going up Air Balloon
So many airheads
The Rainforest
GQ he's gone IQ
((Quarterly Neck of the woods))
Not orderly Outback
Steakhouse
Dinosaurs
******
Vicarious
No shortcut
The nervous system
The fast have a drink
furious
Cracking a coconut
Her Safe______**
6-6-6 combinations
Could crack her
Coconut oil neck her
City Girl call her
Intellectual brain
Singing
Gene Kelly
umbrella
Raining coconuts
(On Overload)
Strawberry Fields
This will be short
Yeah right forever
shortcake, not any sort
The trend of
coconut
Nearer because
of you I am
further
She was the
Brazilian Nut
With her
blind gut
((Coconut Houdini))
Island of Bali
Beauty of Judy
Somewhere so over it
rainbow
King Kong
Hairy chest banging
coconut drink slurping
Of girl talk
Strong New Jersey
Stamina
***** of Venezuela
Overload of
Prima, Donna's
Instant Karma
going to get them
Knocked them off
there feet
Where is my
John Lennon
He has the best beat
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 6:58 AM UTC
I cannot fully explain to you
How perplexing it is
To be a 22 year old adult
But to still have the fear
Usually reserved for a young child
The fear of the dark
And not in a way that one is afraid of death
Or lions or tigers or bears
Oh my, my fear is much more irrational
You see I find I have bravery in real things
I’ve rock climbed mountains
Ridden roller coaters
Held a poisonous snake by the tale
You get why that’s braver right?
But what makes the hair on the back of my neck stand
What makes my skin pucker into tiny little bumps
Are monsters born of my own imagination
You see my imagination is wicked
And I use that word both ways
In the slang sense that it is awesome and powerful
And in the literal sense that is it evil
That when I imagine a monster
I give it ten hands with 20 fingers each ending with teeth
And eyes so black they sink into the monsters head
Making them look like empty sockets
So deep, they touch his brain
I am forever afraid
I’ll be honest with you
I sleep with all the lights on
And my closet doors wide open
So I could see exactly what is going on in there
I years ago threw out my bed skirt
Convinced they cloaked crooked
Teeth crawling critters capable of decapitation
And were all considerable stronger than myself
As you can imagine I have a lot of nightlights
Mobile ones I use to walk to the bathroom with in the middle of the night
I have to buy so many batteries
The clerk at Walmart can only reasonably assume
I have deviant private life
Because grown *** adults shouldn’t be that scared of the dark
Because at some point during or after childhood
I won’t assume it happens at the same time for everybody
Your imagination takes a backseat to logic
And you understand that monsters aren’t real
But death is and maybe that’s a better fear to have
That didn’t happen with me though and I think most artists
If they were to be completely honest with you would tell you
It didn’t happen to them either they missed a step
In the development milestone department
Though I think they would tell you too like I’m about to tell you now
The fear is worth it there hasn’t been a single monster
I’ve imagined that hasn’t had an equal
Beautiful thought and I can see them better with all the lights on.
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
I wish to get this out in the open,
I wish to clarify something
I must confess something to those who care about my writing:
My sense of humour is... well...
If you know me in person, you know my sense of humour
or what could be errantly said
to be a sense of humour.
I draw heavily upon:
facetiousness, mythic interpretation, sarcasm, satire, excessive formality, irony, wordplay,
a somewhat predisposed tendency towards not taking most things entirely seriously
even and almost especially when I am 'supposed to',
resorting to profanity on rare occasions,
and quite simply and succinctly a ****** up world perspective*
amassed over many years of living in this society
and from living with my late, similarly minded, brutally honest alcoholic Father,
in this society, nonetheless,
who in fact was at least *quite ******* directly* responsible for my aforementioned errant sense of humour.
If you knew him, you might say that I'm a "chip off the ol' block" in some ways,
but I know I'm quite ******* deviant from it in others.
So, to those of you who simply know of my existence via this digital outlet/public-sketchpad for my new-found passion of writing down every ******* thing I think it worthwhile to ponder again later, or perhaps even share with similarly minded, or at least accepting people; I wish to convey my deepest and most sincere pity, not in that it is anything that was your doing, just in that you can't possibly know my sense of humour and tasteless applications of irony and satire, and as such; I've probably offended some people.
However, for some anomalous reason,
some of you seem to like this stuff
So I'm going to keep it up.
If you read this: thank you,
but if you did not, then **** you;
however, if you didn't initially read this but were later directed to it by me or by some other personage,
fictional or real,
or for some other reason happened across it,
I rescind the aforementioned **** you" in light of conveying my deepest and most sincere
"Thank you for putting up with my weird-ass ********
I appreciate anyone who finds any value in my works.
I also appreciate the improbable nature of anyone liking my brain-vomit.
I love creating and I love sharing my creations,
so when that all works out,
I'm ******* fit as a fiddle;
Giddy as a schoolgirl on Prozac;
Happier than a young necrophiliac who achieves his boyhood ambition of becoming coroner.
Apr 20, 2013
Apr 20, 2013 at 7:02 PM UTC
The little voice inside of you
Directing decision
Trapped
Unable to envision
Success
In rapid succession
Reverting
In sudden regression
Sewing shut
Your mind's eye
Blame your loss of contact
Contact with me
The romantic deviant
Your love is beautiful
With all it's conditions
Scolding the masses
For their mental carbon emissions
Unpopular
Is an understatement
What do you expect
Pushing for a decision
When there is no answer
Jan 1, 2011
Jan 1, 2011 at 2:19 PM UTC
Alone with only the piles of ash as company,
I harden a little more.
Severing cords and burning bridges can be tiring and I have had my fill of useless people
so sleep is in my future.
I have never known love;
I know this now.
Hollowed out by wicked inclinations,
tempered with deviant leanings,
filled with poisonous lust
and fueled by misanthropic,
misogynistic misgivings,
I have become bereft of
all that is good.
I have given up
on ever being happy.
Oct 24, 2013
Oct 24, 2013 at 3:02 AM UTC
You know that feeling that you get
After a joke you tell falls flat?
Humiliation unrepressed;
I'd summarise my life as that.
Twenty-one years down the line
But worn as if I'm eighty-odd.
Drug dependant, but still here.
All miracle: No added God!
The classic jokes all told again.
"He looked so cute but what went wrong?"
Too much attention, look away
And **** off with that birthday song.
Twenty-one yet still sixteen,
The pinnacle of gentlemen.
A deviant of *** and lust,
And sickness from adrenaline.
Happy birthday, happy birthday,
Psychedelic astronaut.
Years ago you clambered out
And started having second thoughts.
On hands and knees, I'd crawl back in,
Just like Shawshank Redemption.
This may explain my love of ***
I shall make no exemptions.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Here in dense darkness, alone I sit,
and crave for the caressing rays
of thy gentle light, nowhere near.
Out side the balcony netted to
keep the deviant doves away
the city of million lights speaks
in a jumble of numerous sounds.
like my heavy heart, the overcast sky
is a silent observer, holding light back.
The silence within me kept deepening,
every little light in this city night has
a story to tell, I perk up my ears to hear.
Every skyscraper silently exchange
encrypted message of light of many kind,
to one another, written on darkness.
"I don't trust the night,
she is a cheat" says one
The other replies, "Oh! the night
her luxurious dark hair heals"
Within the discordant sounds
what light etch on the night air has
love and hate, sin and redemption.
Neon pauses create a rhythm,
the musical river flows on.
Sitting here inside the cocoon,
I did spin myself and inhabit,
I think I see you there in the distant
blue light, which you yourself embraced
Will you be ever dreaming about my lonely plight,
when you dive deeper in to your dark night?
Jul 27, 2017
Jul 27, 2017 at 11:05 AM UTC
Las Ramblas takes me into the olfactory and gustatory folds of a multicolored bocadillo, which led me to the breathtaking and fearful tunnels of El Chorro.
I have identified those at Sants who maintained deviant motives and gazed upon the beauty of those tree-lined streets of fountainous resignation.
Nevertheless, the combination of manchego and chorizo leads me to those meandering roads of Andalucia where the Sierra Nevada can be witnessed from festivals in Pastelero and Villa Nueva in a midnight breeze.
The best sopa de acho is to be found in Antequerra.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 10:12 PM UTC
junk torrents of suffering
pollute dream pools
and reek of putrefaction
dead fingers dance
down trails of deviant memories
Life’s spectral scream
‘I am, but why????’
fills the firmament
frail needs
fragmented desires
mutilated faith
plastic fears
Television static from an infernal midnight
The shells of eternity
Penetrating,
Leaving, blind, bound and broken
the children of midday sun
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 10:33 PM UTC
this deviant moment
exposed to light of day
unable to mute my words
they tumble out and roll round
like a car full of clowns in the circus
all color and no content
one rolls back to me
gets in my face
eyes red with its irate feelin
puffin on a greasy cigar
it makes all kinds of loud noise in the back of my head
trying to guilt trip me out
keeps me awake half the night
this deviant moment
flows like a charm for him
flows like cheap wine
when the friends are near and dear
price don't come till harsh light of day
face up in the mirror full of denials
full of regrets
full outa steam just shuffle through the moment
knowin that you'll get to the track on time
just gotta get the ole mutt movin
and the dusty road from here to eternity
never seemed so unsteady as it dose today
the deviant moment
was her magical hour
was her moment to shine in the
artificial sun
she had acceptance speechs written
and a dress picked out for her own red carpet stroll
she had studied all the books
and gotta pretty good bead on this whole motherhood thing
gonna name him 'seattle'
its was gonna be her magical moment in
the artificial sun
the deviant moment
was his break from the harsh road
it was his moment to loose himself
and just be
and that nirvana was in her arms
that moment was in beauty of her affections
but the carving in stone don't melt like ice
not freely given
but who can name the price of what its costs to the soul
they can ask but you can never 'plain to em
what the give takes out of you
step to that road be prepared to give up ever lookin back
the deviant moment passed between em
left them both changed
but she never will see it the same as him
shes trapped back there in the one horse mountain town
and hes shining on a sunbaked beach
in the cool cool moonlight
of a southern sun
the deviant moment
leaves us now
with her blanketed in snow
leaves him with regrets like children at your ankles
pulling at your legs ever demanding answers
to questions you never even heard
leaves me with thoughts bout going back to sea
bout sailing till iv lost all memory of this place
and her fondling the hands of time
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:43 PM UTC
I curse the night I meet you.
I curse the night my eyes locked deep into your golden/brown skin & crimson red lips.
I curse the drug that draped my mind in lust, in confidence, to merely utter
Hello.
I curse that sentimental longing for the sound of your voice again.
And your subtle approach towards my deviant nature.
Oh.
I curse..
Dec 13, 2013
Dec 13, 2013 at 2:02 AM UTC
Ah, now I remember.
It was in those rare moments when you say something different.
Words weave in and out of your lips
but your eyes have the freshly stitched smile
like that of a child
listening to their favorite bed-time story.
Satin slips from your mouth,
wrapping around the beating murmurs
below my necklace
triangle yantra of Kali,
under a lacy leopard bra,
beneath the tattooed deviant octopus,
and soothes the palpitations
to a comfortable pause.
We don't always need air to breathe.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 11:23 PM UTC