"dishonored" poems
Up and lead the dance of Fate!
Lift the song that mortals hate!
Tell what rights are ours on earth,
Over all of human birth.
Swift of foot to avenge are we!
He whose hands are clean and pure,
Naught our wrath to dread hath he;
Calm his cloudless days endure.
But the man that seeks to hide
Like him (1), his gore-bedewèd hands,
Witnesses to them that died,
The blood avengers at his side,
The Furies' troop forever stands.
O'er our victim come begin!
Come, the incantation sing,
Frantic all and maddening,
To the heart a brand of fire,
The Furies' hymn,
That which claims the senses dim,
Tuneless to the gentle lyre,
Withering the soul within.
The pride of all of human birth,
All glorious in the eye of day,
Dishonored slowly melts away,
Trod down and trampled to the earth,
Whene'er our dark-stoled troop advances,
Whene'er our feet lead on the dismal dances.
For light our footsteps are,
And perfect is our might,
Awful remembrances of guilt and crime,
Implacable to mortal prayer,
Far from the gods, unhonored, and heaven's light,
We hold our voiceless dwellings dread,
All unapproached by living or by dead.
What mortal feels not awe,
Nor trembles at our name,
Hearing our fate-appointed power sublime,
Fixed by the eternal law.
For old our office, and our fame,
Might never yet of its due honors fail,
Though 'neath the earth our realm in unsunned regions pale.
7.6k
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
Which once he wore!
The glory from his gray hairs gone
Forevermore!
Revile him not, the Tempter hath
A snare for all;
And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath,
Befit his fall!
Oh, dumb be passion's stormy rage,
When he who might
Have lighted up and led his age,
Falls back in night.
Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark
A bright soul driven,
Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark,
From hope and heaven!
Let not the land once proud of him
Insult him now,
Nor brand with deeper shame his dim,
Dishonored brow.
But let its humbled sons, instead,
From sea to lake,
A long lament, as for the dead,
In sadness make.
Of all we loved and honored, naught
Save power remains;
A fallen angel's pride of thought,
Still strong in chains.
All else is gone; from those great eyes
The soul has fled:
When faith is lost, when honor dies,
The man is dead!
Then, pay the reverence of old days
To his dead fame;
Walk backward, with averted gaze,
And hide the shame!
5.4k
The identity is not correct,
God’s people dishonored
and in a state of aggression,
Geographically topsy turvy,
the history is miseducation
Blasphemy spits in the
face of the Motherland
like mocking the wrath
of a silent Beast…
Like scorching the sky for Thunder…
We’re provoking Divine Intervention…
AND SO IT SHALL BE…!
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 4:16 AM UTC
I'm sorry boo
I never meant to
Couldn't forsee this happening
Oh god what have I done?
Am I unfaithful...
Thats been on my mind this past couple of hours
I didnt mean to say what I did
Was trying to be nice and friendly
Trying to brighten their mood
I wasnt looking for love
I have you
Right?
You'll stay here right?
I'm scared...
Terrified
Petrified
Mortified
What have I done
Am I unfaithful...
I cant live with myself
Whyd i act in such a way
What's wrong with me
The voices they scream inside
Someone please help me
I've dishonored myself
My character
My partner and
my morales
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 9:00 PM UTC
You told me lying was a sin;
You lied.
You told me cheating was a sin;
You cheated.
You told me adultery was a sin;
You cheated.
You told me stealing was a sin;
You stole.
You told me cursing was a sin;
You cursed.
You told me dishonoring my country was a sin;
You dishonored my country.
You told me to keep my promises;
You didn’t.
You told me to live by the Golden Rule;
You didn’t.
You told me to be careful of the company I keep;
You aren’t.
You told me to help those poorer than I;
You don’t.
You told me to be an example to youth;
You aren’t.
A question arises, by and by;
Is everything you said a big lie?
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 1:28 PM UTC
I never felt loved. I remind myself it’s not because I wasn’t lovable, but because I was made to hate everyone who loved me and loathe everything I’ve ever loved. You had to purge me of love to assure you were its only source.
I looked for love in a golden page— learned quickly what it was to feel imprisoned by flesh-– learned quickly I’m meant to feel so tightly wound it’s as if barbed wire snakes my skin. I’ve yet to come undone. The serpent is starved for its prey and I let it swallow me whole.
I know I was born to listen— born to obey. The word “yes” was burned on my tongue from the moment I could speak it, recited like a scripture, scorched into my subconscious by a “saint’s” shallow sermon.
Love was never patient, nor was she kind. Love struck without warning. She consumed me whole as the serpent does and spit me out when she was full. To this day, I starve.
Love was pompous. I was nothing but she was the world. No pride of God could measure to that of the saint who loved me.
Love dishonored me with every slice from her tongue. Love was selfish. Love was rageful. She shattered with the lightest touch. She was wicked— a liar. She claimed to keep me safe but my fear of hell was nothing compared to my fear of her. I was the only thing love hated more than herself.
Love recited my wrongs more than my name.
Love says I’m a liar. She says I am cursed like her. Deep down, I think it’s true. Love was fruit grown from a poison vine. Deep down I know there’s cancer at my roots. Deep down I know I rot.
Love only wants me when I’m small. When I’m afraid. When I’m alone. When I’m malleable. Love loves me when she is the only thing I have to love.
The love I know is violent. She is brutal and unforgiving. Love killed me with her first touch.
Dec 24, 2023
Dec 24, 2023 at 3:42 AM UTC
My father lit a cigarette and smoked the room up
with choked circles,
he rewrites every woman
he sees,
metamorphosis asunder,
because nothing is on tv.
My mom was hauled blindly
away from love to evening's riverbed
--to **** the fear of
correction away.
Birds talk about fish
that fly in airline crusades, gobbling up wise owls.
Blossom talons pluck
--up their words,
the closest a lie can come to the truth
and be set in stone None of them
will be remembered
the way they want to. footnote retribution.
The wandering dead only care about
modeling on the covers
of psychology magazines--hailing reviews that digest indulgence
beautifully,
carving chocolate waists
down
to starvation--we melt away to gnats
in Prozac hives
shingled with academic love papers
& bible covers.
Dear Alice,
you stole our table of tea, our shaved vigil,
our western rodeo,
our alcoholic omega.
Midnight on the dishonored battlefield
with the scythe beneath us,
we murmur love back into
our sheets of high horror.
Your meteorite adultery could not wipe
this hard drive clean--what we would lose...
the things we cannot touch.
Cloud 9 LSD,
its warriors passing
weapons down to the flock's ashes--to wives who fear
the wrath of their husbands. Chlorine gills quit
cold turkey
--sinks overfill under unorthodox skies--the turning of centuries
is nothing like flipping
pennies
into wishing wells.
Mar 14, 2013
Mar 14, 2013 at 3:05 AM UTC
290
Of Bronze—and Blaze—
The North—Tonight—
So adequate—it forms—
So preconcerted with itself—
So distant—to alarms—
And Unconcern so sovereign
To Universe, or me—
Infects my simple spirit
With Taints of Majesty—
Till I take vaster attitudes—
And strut upon my stem—
Disdaining Men, and Oxygen,
For Arrogance of them—
My Splendors, are Menagerie—
But their Completeless Show
Will entertain the Centuries
When I, am long ago,
An Island in dishonored Grass—
Whom none but Beetles—know.
1.7k
Beloved atrocity flatters me by any means
Dearly dishonored twist in the mind creepily transmits chills down the spine
Alter-ego of eerie grotesque underneath opposites where lay secrets kept
Wicked distortion of rise and fall like morning and night
Apr 29, 2013
Apr 29, 2013 at 12:03 PM UTC
An imperfect being.
A shy and shameful creature.
A scarred body,
a flawed body.
She grows her hair long
so that he won’t see the scars on her back,
so that he will not count the marks,
ghastly adornments from her worldly experience
too disgraceful to be called badges of honor-
so he will not see the imperfection.
A naked body,
a chubby body,
a dishonored body,
fit only to be obedient.
Wanting of love,
but not deserving,
not receiving.
All she can do is submit
and hope that he won’t look.
Dec 7, 2010
Dec 7, 2010 at 8:07 AM UTC
i wither...
~away
i float from my consciousness, watching myself listen
to endless dribble of the ignorant pro-tagonist of life.
the limitless waves of gray faberic framing the brown bald
and blonde hedgehogs poking their heads up to electrify their
deaf ears and blind eyes – blind eyes
to the world of a real mind.
-they cant see as i see – this life (of theirs) means as much as the DIRT holding the ground of the ghosts in wooden boxes under the rocks
mouths moving words flying
silly tongues flapping – saying nothing – begging for nothing while across the gray,
dull words of hip-hop and pop don’t stop…
contradicting the history of blood and turmoil
ridiculing the bowtie wrapped around the neck of authority – maneuvering the black and white pieces of a chess board - an antiquated system crumbling – the backbone of an elephant standing tall while ignoring the memory of those dishonored by them – they forget – the ever-forgetting elephant no!
the ignorant elephants whose eyes have been gutted by its own tail – these elephants don’t wail
i wail, scream, howl and groan I weep (inwardly) as I stand cold, engulfed in smoke and smog. I scoff, scowl, and scorn openly inwardly at the treachery and horror that life brings
forgetful is that elephant that kindness is not weakness warmth is not love and a smile is not always real – gripping clawing scratching grabbing clutching to a life that means nothing – than recycled water in the perpetual flow of a ****** river
theyweep theycry theybeg theydie
and they are faded...
…into memories – and the gray infinite abyss of the blue collar drone.
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 6:52 PM UTC
Brilliance for
getting away with it
Love trashed
twisted thrashing
In one moment
hating lifetimes
yours
and mine
No delusion
of any exclusion
No excuses
for poor training
ma n pa
Will do
Have done
better dishonored
To swallow
and be
The depth
cold
Black holed
soul
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
A fearful submissive creature
stares up at its captor with anxiety and admiration.
His ivory skin glistens like the first dews of spring,
His eyes are prudent and observant,
full of thought, but absent of any sign of compassion,
His hands neither taking nor giving.
As the ugly creature looks up at its captor,
aggrieved that it was not the hunter’s target,
he did not even want to capture it,
if anything, he probably regrets it.
All the poor creature can do is fear and pray,
fear that the hunter will set it loose again, never to meet again
and praying that he might be a kind master
to his pitiful but loving creature.
Perhaps even offer… kindness?
Will he listen to its stuttering words,
desperately trying to convey a desire for approval?
Will he willingly accept its dishonored form?
Its long disheveled hair?
its uneven skin?
its hideous and shameful body?
Will he sympathize with its silence,
its fear of rejection?
Regardless, its wishes to know what its master
thinks of it.
Does he disapprove of it?
Does he disdain it?
Does he merely not care about it?
Please show compassion, Dear Hunter,
it loves you.
It only wants to know whether or not
you care about it.
Apr 5, 2011
Apr 5, 2011 at 9:37 PM UTC
A gift bestowed me kindness
The warmth of your thought my crown
But came with it one deviant voice
Whom if I spoke would let you down
The small voice belonged a girl
Who might long-ago have said thank you
For the very same small gift she went
Onto forget and break through
And I do feel so unkind
For thinking things, questioning why
When I know you only shared it
'Cause it's now me who makes you shine.
...
(There is a conflict in my head
Between my waking and half-dead,
Where I judge my deemed importance
As menial, in your head)
To myself I know it's preposterous.
But at times I'm wont to think this way.
If you save that bit of love
that you made another girl
Should I feel special or dishonored,
Or ungrateful, for asking
I am a hypocrite, when I say
Nothing on earth should go to waste
When I do secretly wonder
Why you kept the old remains
of things for someone who was not worth it
And give them to me, if I'm so special?
Am I not special enough to earn
something I inspired you to love?
Or have I just the trust and merit to guard keepsakes
others sewn and snagged you from?
Please do not take this to mean that it is undervalued,
I really do love it so much.
I'm just bitter hands besides ours have wrapped around your heart
Despite knowing that the both of us have contributed that part
It's a truth of life I must respect, as I too, had past remains
I was just lucky enough, that those I'd shared with, were good and kept them safe.
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 5:47 PM UTC
King Richard and his honor guard
saw advantage slip away.
Northumberland betrayed his king
and stayed out of the fray.
King Richard spied his rival's arms
on Bosworth field that day.
Lord Stanley on the sidelines stood
as if in Richmond's pay.
Richmond did not care to fight.
His men struck Richard down.
They stabbed at him repeatedly
till blood royal soaked the ground.
The battered and contested crown
-found in a thornbush there
-was placed on Henry Tudor's head.
as Henry knelt in prayer.
The naked body of his foe
was tied across an ***
Had ever a King of England
been so dishonored once he'd passed?
Two princes of the House of York
were in the Tower Lodged
Their deaths ascribed to Richard's hands
the truth- known but to God.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 6:18 PM UTC
SMOKING MY LAST CIGARETTE IN MY POCKET
AFTER THIS, I’LL GO HOME WITH NO REGRET
DISREGARDED SUCCESS
DISHONORED VICTORY
NOW TELL ME IS THIS WORTH THE ENERGY?
DISGUSTED FACE OF EACH NATION
I’LL TRY TO BUY SOME TIME OR MAKE IT IN SLOW MOTION
JUST TO SAVE SOME HOURS
BEFORE WE GO TO WAR
THEIR BATTLE CRY “THIS TERRITORY IS OURS”
WE YELL BACK “THIS ONE IS OURS”
TICKING OF THE CLOCK TURNED TO MINUTES
AND NOW WE ARE SECONDS AWAY
THEY CALLED IT “PARADISE”
I CALLED IT “THE DEMISE OF A PARADISE”
WE ARE ALL SLAVES BY HEART AND IN MIND
ENDLESS TUG OF WAR BETWEEN TAN AND JUAN
NEVER ENDING CLAIM
NEVER ENDING SHAME
STOP THIS NON SENSE AND
LET’S MAKE EVERYTHING AT EASE
LET US TAKE WHAT’S RIGHTFULLY OURS
AND TAKE WHAT’S LEGITIMATELY YOURS
WE SHARE THE SAME SKIN ALL I PRAY IS TO END THIS FEUD CLEAN
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:05 PM UTC
To Be Governed
“To be GOVERNED is to be watched, inspected, spied upon, directed, law-driven, numbered, regulated, enrolled, indoctrinated, preached at, controlled, checked, estimated, valued, censured, commanded, by creatures who have neither the right nor the wisdom nor the virtue to do so. To be GOVERNED is to be at every operation, at every transaction noted, registered, counted, taxed, stamped, measured, numbered, assessed, licensed, authorized, admonished, prevented, forbidden, reformed, corrected, punished. It is, under pretext of public utility, and in the name of the general interest, to be placed under contribution, drilled, fleeced, exploited, monopolized, extorted from, squeezed, hoaxed, robbed; then, at the slightest resistance, the first word of complaint, to be repressed, fined, vilified, harassed, hunted down, abused, clubbed, disarmed, bound, choked, imprisoned, judged, condemned, shot, deported, sacrificed, sold, betrayed; and to crown all, mocked, ridiculed, derided, outraged, dishonored. That is government; that is its justice; that is its morality."
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Naked Reality
(Do you remember?)
.
. Do you remember
What she looked like
In your Free Imagination?
--
On the Road
Going to the Country
::
We didn't need no Constitution
To tell us what we were
"Allowed to be!!!!!"
-/-:-:/-
---[or allowed to know]--
--[or allowed to see]--
////
////
& so
YE ****** little boys & girls
Of this dishonored century
what'll YE have?
what'll YE take?
Get offa your knees
Stand as a MAN
REMEMBER YOUR NAME
REMEMBER HER FACE
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 12:53 AM UTC
Kicked out
Undone
Undid it again
You used to be my
Kin
My friend
But now look at what you did
You threw out all the
Faith
Said, "Find a new place."
So Yes, you want space
I will find my place
But you,
My now unfriend
Your shrill ways to get your fill
Will never mend
Never heal
Make you better
Safer
Smarter
Your shrill will be
Our end
I ain't mad
Your new shoes mood
Left me
Dishonored & bruised
To OUT on the street
Car comfy I'll sleep
While you act like
I've peaked
Enjoy your IN-crowd vibe
Look alive
I choose to
Rise
Thrive
Love derived
Because my unfriend
This will I got does not bend.
Dec 14, 2019
Dec 14, 2019 at 1:03 PM UTC
Amidst the sea of people
suffocating in the calumnation of their realm
ringed within the despair of others around them
and solemnly existing alongside the control of civilisation
Lay individuals heeding to their own opinions
shunned, ignored and stamped on by their peers
labeled as a nobody, as worthless and useless
and understood as not one of them
only as an error in the production of mankind
Free and unconstricted of the anguishing order
released as someone whom does not belong
condemned as not right in their head
and mentioned as unusual, absurd, crazy
Criticised as a dreadfully contrary being
memorised as a faulty move in the game of chess
expeditiously withdrawn from the establishment of humanity
and obliterated from the existence of their kind
Eyes judging from afar
fearing for their presence to be near
disgusted by their demeaning manner
and forced to abide within their deficient companionship
Once bound to free the shrieking tears
sobs and wails heard from others
begging for acceptance and help
and chasing the deemed worthy for assistance
Metamorphosed into a satisfactory compliance of themselves
buoyantly striding into the halls of the accounted worthy
neglecting the insults and protests of others
and middlingly acclimated to the continuance of being the hated
Disrespected, despised and dishonored they may be
but blithe, wild and free-spirited incorporated
effectively enhancing their blessed individualised life
and liberated from the provocation of those unwilling of exemption
forcefully claiming their unrighteous place in civilisation.
As they are, and always will be the outcast.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
Dear blame
I carried you for so long
How come you still weigh so heavy on my shoulders?
All I ever wanted was to leave it all behind
and all I ever feared was to leave it behind me
So much that I used to know
emptied by the distance in front of me
behind me lies what feels hard to comprehend
and how seeing my reflection now doesn't feel like some kind of lament
Dear self-doubt
did you know I'm not hiding anymore?
I found peace in these walls made out of run-down things
There are roots now and green leaves grow
I think the way I feel is like a once abandoned building
taken back by nature
But not overgrown, no,
just filled with new life where there was only cold concrete before.
Dear father
you'll never know
And I'll surely never have a reason to tell
I hope you're okay
I'm okay without you
the heaviness doesn't weigh on me any longer
and it took some time for me to realize that this is alright
This girl is alright
Dear mother
your pain always hits closest to home
anger was always yours to portrait
I think I gave you enough, I gave it all
and for what it's worth I never dishonored your pride
if dishonoring didn't mean standing up in front of you
I will forever be angry with you
so my conscious heart left a very long time ago
I had to save myself
I apologize and wish you find peace in your own right
Dear me
I'm so proud of you
Do you remember how we used to look outside?
thinking we'd never made it, no chance
It felt like a silly dream
Is it real?
Did we manage to escape it all with merely some scars and bruises?
I think... I did.
Jun 2, 2018
Jun 2, 2018 at 4:32 AM UTC
May the American poets, at Hello Poetry enjoy reading the following lyrical poem.
The Ragged Old Flag
Written by Johnny Cash
I walked through a county courthouse square
On a park bench, an old man was sittin' there.
I said, "Your old court house is kinda run down,
He said, "Naw, it'll do for our little town".
I said, "Your old flag pole is leaned a little bit,
And that's a ragged old flag you got hangin' on it".
He said, "Have a seat", and I sat down,
"Is this the first time you've been to our little town"
I said, "I think it is"
He said "I don't like to brag, but we're kinda proud of that ragged old flag"
You see, we got a little hole in that flag there
When Washington took it across the Delaware.
And It got powder burned the night Francis Scott Key sat watching it
Writing "Say Can You See"
It got a bad rip in New Orleans, with Packingham & Jackson
Tugging at it's seams.
And it almost fell at the Alamo
Beside the Texas flag,
But she waved on though.
She got cut with a sword at Chancellorsville,
And she got cut again at Shiloh Hill.
There was Robert E. Lee and Beauregard and Bragg,
And the south wind blew hard on that ragged old flag
On Flanders Field in World War I
She got a big hole from a Bertha Gun
She turned blood red in World War II
She hung limp, and low, a time or two
She was in Korea, Vietnam, she went where she was sent
By her Uncle Sam
She waved from our ships upon the briny foam
And now they've about quit wavin' back here at home
In her own good land here She's been abused
She's been burned, dishonored, denied an' refused
And the government for which she stands
Has scandalized throughout out the land
And she's getting thread bare, and she's wearin' thin
But she's in good shape, for the shape she's in
Cause she's been through the fire before
And I believe she can take a whole lot more
So we raise her up every morning
And we take her down every night,
We don't let her touch the ground,
And we fold her up right.
On a second thought
I do like to brag
'Cause I'm mighty proud of that ragged old flag
Jul 4, 2021
Jul 4, 2021 at 6:27 AM UTC
Seeing her is like returning to a city where you used to live.
You loved that city and always will
There is something about it that will always feel like home
and you secretly hope you find that city again:
To embrace everything that brought you such bliss.
But when you find yourself facing her at last,
the guilt of your crimes returns.
When you dishonored something so beautiful.
You have lost the privilege to enjoy
the place which gave you nothing but hope
and revealed to you the love that can be found in the world.
Even if the city welcomes you back with the softest smile
You can not risk causing any more harm.
You do not trust yourself
around the only person you ever loved.
Feb 10, 2017
Feb 10, 2017 at 10:44 AM UTC
Eyes of judgment
Whose sudden glare
Filled with scrutiny
Lives within
Are prideful souls
Each with thought of disdain
Over the heads of dishonored variances.
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 4:08 AM UTC