"dished" poems
When I'd wake alone in bed at 4am
Again
To find you passed out
on the couch
Too wasted to notice
the heart breaking in front of you
I tried every day
But you preferred synthetic hugs
and to hide in a place
where the expectations were low
Escapes and excuses
more alluring than I could ever be
Through tears I would plead
'Why don't you want to sleep with me!?'
I shouldn't have taken it so personally
But nobody saw me cry
Especially not you
Blind to my own tears
Large doses of denial dished out
A feast for the masses
Perhaps the most powerful drug of them all
My soul mate disappeared
each day
a little more
Maybe today will be different
Hope
The beautiful motivator
Maybe today
It will be me that you choose
Naively believing
that you had control
But then I woke
alone in bed at 4am
Again
Manipulated and used
Mar 26, 2017
Mar 26, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
Worthless, stupid, ugly too.
Tongue-tied, but that’s only around you.
My dreams are horrors that I earn,
For them to be real ill always yearn.
My death, sweet poison, saves my life,
By ending it by gun or knife.
Monsters, demons, tear my flesh,
Or I get stuck in barbwire mesh.
Whatever the torture I take it as dished.
Never sweet dreams, as I so often wished.
But why should I have them? I'm crooked and mean.
Or well, that’s what I think. Could be low self-esteem.
I hate that I love you, I hate that I care.
I hate that when you’re upset; I wish I were there.
I just really hate myself for not hating you.
And for loving you in the first place, I hate that one too.
Your name, once golden, now a twisted black vine.
In her name I find envy, I wish you were mine.
You were and you will be, ill see that its so.
And if it doesn’t work out... you know where ill go.
It's a cop-out; I'm chicken, too scared to go on.
I hope it's you who finds me, dead in your lawn.
Razor in hand, I wish I could do it.
Iv tried once before, but that time I blew it.
But this time I can, and I know that I will.
If not by blade, slip off my windowsill.
Or drown in my pool, or forget my inhaler.
Though I know it won’t matter. This girl, you wont save her.
You loved her, you killed her, and you’ve broken her heart.
She has nothing-good left, besides poems and art.
She’s lost, and she’s lonely, and I know she’s scared too.
And the only thing that could help just won’t. And that’s you.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 2:33 AM UTC
Ill rip out your eyeballs as ornaments for my ears,
and inflict on you the nightmares that you dished out for years.
You will live in my dungeon and feed on dry bread
while I feast at a table close to your head.
And for every birthday I'll cut off one finger
and leave it to rot so the smell of it lingers.
You will keep your tongue for the names you'll recite
of the ones that you hurt and treated with spite.
And the day that the terror expires your life
I'll hang you on a lamp pole on the highway in full sight.
And you will be remembered as a pathetic soul
who picked on gentle women you tried to control.
And justice will rise like a bright morning sun,
A coward is dead and his abusing is done.
Dec 28, 2010
Dec 28, 2010 at 10:44 PM UTC
i'm sorry
but im going to devour you
like toast with butter and jam
let go to me
lose your self in the exaltation of suffering
albeit a difficult pleasure
feel me ruin you with every strike and stroke
blister tear and pierce
a quandary of liberation bleeding
take more then whats dished
ill turn you into a gushing river of squeals
and filthy verse
i'm in love with your ****
colored almost purple
like a wild mouthed poem
make it kiss me
let it eat my face
its more beautiful then an Hawaiian sunset
more tender then a baby lamb
your sweet lipped *****
a buttery sticky bun
its drools liquid diamonds
i'm sorry
i hit your **** so hard
but they bounced and bounced
and it drove me near mad
so gorgeous bruised and bleeding
casaba torrents
all hot stings and sweet
you stand glorious
between beauty and annihilation
your mouth swollen from being slapped so hard
nose bleed and mucous
your eyes enormous wombs
like fingers touching me
oh baby
im sorry
your tears imploring
pleading and drunk
on hair pulling frenzies
curse my brutish rampage
of *** gone mad
turning your body
into clouds and red splash ribbons
don't be sorry
she said
with pursed lips
your rabid hunger my own
i am an abyss of dark desires
a savage wraith
i want to kiss you like a lecher
all ******* and cherries
with legs squandered wide
a Halloween grotesque
with a ponytail
are you going to eat me
like a communion wafer
okay
if it will save you
am i not a saint of lust
"There is no greater love
than to lay down one's life for one's friends"
john15:13
so have your fun at my expense
make me your house of horrors
greased
for the scalding of your whip
ill be good
please do your worst
and ill show you my best
promise me
pretty please
kisses and cries
rainbows and ash
blistering ecstatic
Sep 23, 2017
Sep 23, 2017 at 12:56 PM UTC
His skin weaved in the golden sand,
Shone under the sun of his motherland.
Hair a tangled meshwork of thread,
Reminiscent of the nets his father spread.
He had no toys but crystals and shells,
that he collected onshore in lonely spells.
His food, the raw salty fish,
Swiftly with skill that he gut and dished.
He goes and lays down in wet sand,
the spirit of which he loves to no end.
He sings to the mermaids and in mud he rolls,
and the sea laughs with him in breaking shoals.
He is made of blood but ocean too,
he knows no music but woosh woosh woosh.
He wishes to marry a girl of the sea,
who'll dwell with him in his fantasy.
He turns his head and closes his ears,
while people run away from the ocean in fear.
Destruction and death loom ahead,
The blue ocean rises violently filling the town with dread.
Like a heavenly curse it fells on the town,
crushes and sweeps like the tragedy bound.
With his holy hand it avenges it's kin,
and his water that was treated as nothing but bin.
It tears every home away from it's root,
just like how the humans did its fish loot.
And squeezes the life out of the fishermen,
that feast on the dead of his homeland.
It starves and suffocates many men,
who made him breathless with oil spills time and again.
Like a storm it rages and plunders.
In minutes, wrecks havoc on the land and rips it asunder.
It gradually descends back to it's nest,
Satisfied with the curse it did impress.
The next day a body lay on the shore.
Like a coffin did it mud wore.
As people looked on it, they could not help but chant;
***The Child of the Ocean lies strangled in its waters,
We feed things love and they destroy us and slaughter.***
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 9:05 AM UTC
She told me to
"Imagine a safe place",
a quiet place, somewhere to go
when the fog is at my feet.
But everywhere I went was
crowded with doubt
and a lingering loitering
presence on my shoulder,
come out from the fog to
hurl accusations and taunt.
I can only assume
it's a he on my shoulder,
an enigma,
my father's doppelganger
come to dredge my mind
of all the **** he dished out
when I was a child,
and feed it back to me again.
I tell her I'll need more tools
and stronger ideas.
So she gives me a seat at
the head of the table
where my ****** committee meets,
and a gavel to establish order
or bash in their brains.
She arms my dreams
with weapons and courage,
gives me REM when I'm wide awake.
We fashion a furnace of love,
hot enough to vaporize the
cold darkness pouring into my gut,
customized with levers and pulleys
to push and to pull in the fight.
We tally
Alpha and Beta waves,
trained and retrained,
hard coded messages
sanded smooth by repetition.
*Through it all I give too,
and what I give is all I can give,
it is the warmth of what enslaves me,
and the thought of letting it go….
Well.... lets not go there right now.*
In the long run I'm not sure that
any of it will be enough,
I am weakened by the war.
But occasionally there
are shiny spots that simmer,
You see,
I may have found that place,
the place she first told me to find
way back at the beginning,
the place to feel safe, although
it isn't really a place per se.
If it were true
I could finally ascend to
where no fog can go.
Where my father's voice
cannot be heard,
nor the ghosts I grew
up with.
A place of love and honesty,
where my furnace would sit idle in awe.
There is a picture of us
on our bedroom wall.
It is the perfect depiction of
all that is safe for me.
I look at your smile
and I see peace.
Nothing can penetrate
your radiance,
you are everything
I've never had,
double layered and
impenetrable
by all of it.
By all of the ****
I am learning to go there
when the fog is at my feet,
and the ghosts are in my ear.
When the accusations come
I can escape there with you,
and together we can drown them out
if only for a little while.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 1:39 PM UTC
When the soil has settled
The dirt been dished
Will you still
Forgive me, or forget.
© Nick Strong 2014
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 2:46 PM UTC
She chose to sit in the driver's seat
Marzieh Hashemi isn't afraid of the smoldering heat
nor is she like the rest that one should try to beat
Like a butterfly in the mountain's wind
she'll pick up speed and bounce to the end
and help those around her confidently amend
Insightful, optimistic, she'll make you think
distracted by her intelligence, you'll feel no need to blink
on a gathering day, she looked beautiful in pink
Safety, cheer, and comfort were well dished out
to more than her own, a Mother for all to draw to and pout
Our unforgettable journey is Marzieh Hashemi, an icon of strength to plead about
By: Najwa Kareem
Jan 19, 2019
Jan 19, 2019 at 9:45 AM UTC
Poppies, bobbing above the green
Waving heads back and forth
Dark clouds inbetween
Driving rain from the north.
Vanilla fields, soft an fragrant
Seeds sprinkle in the air
Dished out by a vagrant
He’s wooden so he wont care.
Wild strawberries, seeds on show
The only fruit inside out
In vanilla fields it will grow
Its rosy hands reaching about.
Dreamy days, creamy ways
Strawberries for tea please
Hot tea on tin trays
And strawberries to tease.
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 9:29 AM UTC
Tribes matter more than research,
jobs dished on ethnic network,
as academics are left to die
at the thrones of sadism
and selfish megalomania,
proffessors more illiterate
as reading culture succumbed to death,
to pave way for money culture,
harvested from parallel programmes,
that takes the beautiful
and the academically incompetent,
to the university at mercy of their wallets,
where the proffessors renew their sinews,
on the french chicken by parralleley style
on the tops of the female parallel students,
as they inspire them with new culture,
of laziness,twiterature and cyborature,
face-booking for unique *** partners,
as books are left to be dust ridden
on the miserable shelves
of ramshackle libraries.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
Your words are rich but your silence is golden
I've lost all faith in what humanity has spoken
You don't know this, but I was chosen
To speak out against society
and it's twisted mentality
Says one thing but means another
Karma is coming, but you'll never see her
She'll smother you with your past mistakes
Do whatever it takes to pay back the heartache
That you caused and all the hurt you dished out
Don't you see it now? There's no doubt,
You're in her sights now
She's aimed at your heart, tearing apart the pain
You claimed to have no control over
Karma's here, can't you see her?
She don't bluff, this ain't Tuesday night poker
Fold this hand, it's weighing heavy on your shoulders
Exposure to the light got you moving slower and slower
It's over, she's beat you down
Might as well leave the table,
Karma don't play around
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
Bossa nova, Barcelona, Box and two weeks over,
Music to get hold of,
Newly weds to Right said Fred,
Calypso spot light sun beams down a twinkle baked shoulder to strike a pose.
Bossa nova, what's on, record it,
Promote It with some guile,
He She who stole it,
With limelight their staged arena owned it,
He She dished out the smiles,
They clapped as the show survives,
They danced to each others beat,
Bebop a lula its jive came unique.
Accapella, Bossa nova, Hosanna from the highest,
Bossa nova, a rock n roller, a ballad till midnight,
Encore if you got through the night in hindsight,
Stage Fright had this moment,
What is going on?
Bingo numbers,
Feathers a house!
Bossa nova it aint over till its over as for a starlight it may strike the board with a star face in the sun.
Now maybe, maybe not that's a Bossa nova!
O'Reily@20082014
Oct 15, 2014
Oct 15, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
When I was little
I would stare up at
My mother and think to myself
That's what I want to be when I grow up
I wanted nothing more than
To become my mother
Who tucked me in
Kissed my scrapes
Who nurtured me
Brought me water when I was
Sick and sang me to sleep
And who told me how strong I was
Little did I know
That moms are dished out
Their own servings of problems
But my mom was different
She was served piles of
Left overs and week old bread
Water unfit for a dog
And dessert was scarce
Later I learned I was the dessert
So was my father
Though he was more sour than others
She didn't care, she loved it all
But as I've grown older
The piles of unfit food
Are tumbling down
Right on top of me
My mother's food labeled
Bipolar, depression
Anxiety, self harm
Body image issues and so much more
More than one person should
Be dished up, more than
One person can stomach
Too much for the plate to handle
The plate is cracked, chipped
Used, with a residue still blanketed over
And we've learned our eyes are bigger than
Our stomachs and we attempt the plate alone
But you can't handle a full course meal
If you're stomach is so small
I've learned that even though
Doctors label my mother
Crazy and unstable
I still crave to be her
Because she's survived through
What seems like everything
And she is not only alive
But my mother is living
Maybe not the way she imagined
But she still tries to make
The best of each day
She does so much with so little
Yes, I still want to be my mother
I want to be strong and brave
Kind and nurturing
I want to be everything she thinks she isn't
Because she is my everything
Dec 23, 2013
Dec 23, 2013 at 12:10 AM UTC
Those greasy, slimy, whickered faces. The raunchy day old grubby look. Face of a torn up werewolf and body of a useless human. The filthy high stench of pickle and sour croute odor rising, the dreadful slump walks of the unloving creatures. The way they look puts chills on your bones that crawl up to the center of your brain. That one eyed loose tooth taunt that stares at you every night is a sin. The gruesome body that makes a horror in a child’s eye is evil. With the stained, tattered, grump and lump, deep dished in sewer and horrifying clothes that aged rapidly, theres no way you’ll live a week or so. Their screeching scary moan that’s deadful to any. Its mind and body yelps for the organs of a live one. Cold and empty; the once lived corpse that haunts and attacks like no other. No way in mind it can tell you’re there, but it can sense your frightful fear. It rises from its ground to seek out flesh. Be aware, awakened, cautious, wise, and high up from the ground onto your precious feet. These kinds of reckless thieves can steal any living soul without a care. It’s there to do its time. It’s a zombie.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Who do I trust?
When all of you disgust
Me
With your hypocritical
Analytical dissection
I'm guilty too
I'm just as bad as you
I look at you, you look at me
I cut you, metaphorically
Stick and stones may break bones
But words will destroy you.
And it doesn't matter if you don't know
If I sing a song but don't put on a show?
If a tree falls and no one hears it, has it really fallen?
If I break your trust, and you don't know, is it really broken?
Who do I trust
When all of you discuss
Me
When my back is turned
I know you speak in hushed tones
Passing the final judgement upon my saintly mind and sinful soul
The paranoia will take it's toll
You'll be the end of me, you'll be the fall
My mind will slowly unwind
until you find
my innermost thoughts
which you sought
to extract,
as if they were facts,
which would **** me forever.
Show my face, this I won't
I fear you will cast the first stone
Irrespective of your flaws which I respected, I accepted
Or did I?
Did you find out
I brandished my sword,
Sliced through your soul, sliced through your ghouls
There was no trial yet I banged the gavel
I dropped a bomb but you were hit by shrapnel
Oh dear me, what have I done?
Who can I turn to, where do I run?
Who do I trust
When I cannot even trust
Me
Stuck in past, intangible present
The future's bleak, like the moons full crescent
The horrors of yesterday haunt me
My evils of today taunt me
My future transgressions daunt me
I promise I'm trying to be good
Promise I'm trying to do what I should
But who's example do I follow
When all your actions are so hollow
And there I go again
Mr hypocrite, judging his friends
But who am I to judge everyone else
When I do the same myself?
I voiced my issues to a friend
That I feared I would never trust again
She dished out a few words which set me free
If I don't trust myself, the who will me?
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 7:17 PM UTC
Since childhood I've felt how people feel
Able to already know fantisy from what's real
Had to dig out proof for things I just knew
I never knew how but felt lie from truth
Mood always changed when lots of people were near
I'd tell the mirror "your going insane my dear"
Knowledge became obsessed because I wanted proof if right or wrong
Nothing would silence the noise inside but found peace in songs
Able to know when something bad was on the way
Or stop someone from further pain they dished in vain
Saved two beautiful children from a sinners selfish pleasure
Absorbing the pains and feelings from all I've been stretched beyond measure
Being an empaths mean I absorb high and low energy from everything and one
Truly a gift I appreciate but the weight of the world can dissolve the fun
Anything you feel I will feel as well
Able to explain your hearts story its been dying to tell
I am rounded as a person now from love to wrath
When I say I understand I truly do, I am empath
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 4:42 PM UTC
Leavening levers leave us
fishy, wishing without precision
for fettered fritter letters,
feverishly licking with distinction;
Finnish fishermen finish
squishily dished deliciousness.
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 8:06 PM UTC
I mourn the man from our beginning
And not the one that you kept hidden.
We came together to share a life forever.
We drifted apart with the temperament that you start.
The torment that you dished I will surely never miss.
I am finally free from your tyranny.
Our separation has become my salvation.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 1:04 AM UTC
My hands shake and thoughts clash
I revise life, like flashbacks
I won't last living in my past
Pull back, snapping leash he attacks
The scent is strong he's on the prowl
A predator of beings foul
Revenge dished he's hellbound
Took a vow as hellhound
His loyalty holds no borders
He's borderline disobeying orders
He's ordered but he ignores
Okami, a lone wolf
In midnight his eyes shine
Blood red it contains skies
He's hunting down a worthy prize
Defending honour he can't die
Vengeance and fuelled rage
Powerful and untamed
For too long he's been caged
He suffered so, debts be repaid
With head high and hackles raised
He's raising hell, his endgame
All cards held have been played
Run and hide, its too late
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 6:42 AM UTC
Once a professed good kid
Suskind in his native
German he was named,
wrote a macabre tale
on making a special"Perfume"
most irresistible ,enigmatic,
by murdering virgins
in a chilling succession,
and mixing those scents
absorbed in each shroud!
Parents, beware when
you name your children
see, what this good kid
(according to his surname)
to his excited readers did;
pure Gothic dished out
from beginning to it's explosive end!
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 10:33 PM UTC
Griddle sermons
Would you like
some philosophy
with those fried eggs ?
Free advice
cascades like rivers
of fresh juice
greasy story tongs
lift crackling sausages
upon serving plates
dressed with buttered toast
jam-packed with
social commentary
a side order
of cautionary tales
dished out hot
regales
patiently gleaming forks
awaiting their reason
for being
What’s that burning smell?
Someone asks
breakfast sizzles onward
undeterred
arrival time –
indefinite.
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 3:27 PM UTC
To write with tongue in pen,
Saliva dripping ink.
The heady-remembered sensation
Of flavors long forgotten.
Sifted with fingers floured,
Arms limp from kneading
To have them
Penned to perfect succulency.
Until they are coined to smooth and creamy texture.
The rich-written smell of impatient waiting
For oven-crisped words, over-penned with
Timer-gone-slow.
The salt and pepper of a final read-through
Always spelling disaster to our over-spiced and cooled,
Now cookie-cut words.
The souffle sinking deep in the pan of it's paper-page dish.
Till loving eyes scoop up that first tender-tasting bite,
Till the sound of a thought drifts over two lips
With a satisfied sigh.
Our long-awaited, frustrated, penful recital:
Experimental, new-dished-out, tempting
A-rivals.
Bellies full, read-through finished, enough of the sauce.
We clear the dishes with the simple act
Of turning over the cloth,
To the next blank page.
Oct 24, 2010
Oct 24, 2010 at 8:00 PM UTC
we shook hands
tell-all flashes flared up
this man's shame
I had vowed to curb this curse--
to stop spying on anyone's history;
to not stall long enough,
with streetwise small talk,
until I absorbed every gory secret
fair play denied,
my lips dished out a long enough topic
and by the time we parted,
I knew all
~~
..Sunday, Jan. 13, 2013..(C)2013 Spiros Zafiris
~~
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
*
I never understood life
The way world understands it
I am ignorant to life
As ignorant as night is to day
Life has shown me its highs and lows
But I never understand living ever
Because...
I am intoxicated in LOVE of my BELOVEDz
Otherwise what is there in life to live?
Oh Romeo, Oh Layla, Oh Heer, Oh Mahiwal
Oh Sohni, Oh Ranjzhanaa, Oh Majnun, Oh Zuliet
Just see....
Just see, your heart is burnt to ashes
Not even a small ember is seen in
Any one of you - lovers
Yet you all glow and illuminate the world
In the brightness of dark LOVE
I've not ever done any harm or hurt in LIFE
But life dished out so much pain & suffering
Yet I say - what I've lost in LIFE
I've gained in YOUR LOVE
*
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 11:29 PM UTC