"egged" poems
The worst part is
I loved you back
Adulterous affair,
Absolutely abominable!
Maybe you didn’t mean to love
Me, the girl inside
the young woman’s body,
you only thought you knew
Flirtatious banter
once hinted at thoughts
Unsayable;
Intelligible abyss once linked
unsuspecting minds;
Understanding so
Deep, so
Accidental.
Praise me, praise me.
Be careful,
Time is taking over,
How could you, you fool
You can't beat the clock!
You're in love now.
Did you intend for this?
But was it Me you sought to love?
Or was it just my body?
The thrill of the ilicit,
The power
Over a child?
Origins unknown
Grown out of your control.
Say goodbye to reason
I’m your master now.
What’s happening to you?
You’re afraid and I, well
I am the child
who will destroy you
Words, your last weapon
Escalating, no wait, stop
You’re killing yourself.
It's too late
I tried to warn you
You failed me, embarrassed
Me.
I egged you on.
I loved you back.
I’m sorry.
#MeToo
May 4, 2018
May 4, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC
sparks of you
lie within me
not dormant but
silently active
a volcano on hold
embers in the haze
of intensity's throb
and glow
my heartflames
supposedly on low
your bones are
almost molten
melding with my own
and my cells are
tiny brush fires
craving a certain water
but not just
any kind
I need liquids
fresh from the spring
icy seas
to cool my heat of soul, of ****
and gelatinous nomenclature
that clings to my tongue
I need my loops of wild light
to be egged on in the
right fluorescence
yet calmed as I spin
into your sphere
Quiet, now. Just hush up
Put your hand on my chest
feel the beats
calm my frenzied wires
drench my parched lingual
expressions with your
aqua pura
the salty sweetness
of deep desires quenched
I need soil
of the right kind
I am not a desert flower
but I have thrived
in the dry cracked
barren lands
sunstreaks in my hair
blooms have burst forth from
the sucked-in parchment
of my skin
making it smooth and dewy
and despite themselves,
festoons of flowers
decorate the pain.
belly deep
fill the milky white
of ******* with colors
releasing the constant,
strict tightening
pressing on my chest
and if given the
right conditions
this volcano
will
so deliciously
erupt
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 6:54 PM UTC
His life, he’d been frequently told,
Was a stepping stone to
Something better. His growing religious convictions
Taught him about the different levels
Of god.
The innocent child, sacrificial man, distant father,
Steadfast sister and mother.
It taught him not to lust after his pretty neighbours,
Man or woman, nor to daydream
Of unlikely trysts with all the inherent dangers
Involved but to expend his energies
In religious ecstasy instead
Agonising inwardly over the beatitude
And the internal landscape of the soul.
By the time he was forty, he reckoned
He’d got a raw deal. No money, no career,
No friends, just a lot of ****** prayers.
They put her coffin gently in
And he cried, watching it disappear
Unable to think of heaven.
He was not consoled now
By thoughts of
Infinite life.
The slow sounding of a repetitious tune
Amongst cloudy vistas of
Over egged benevolence.
He’d missed the boat, through
Worshipping too much. A rotund
Middle-aged man
With a sagging mind, brown teeth
And old fashioned clothes.
All he had now were his church
And his mother’s dying friends.
He threw dust over his mother’s grave
And walked softly away.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 1:00 AM UTC
...bobby stole a car
george jumped
through
the open back window
we tied robbie up
left him on some ones porch
were surprized when
the spainish people carried
him into the house
(so much for robbie)
we egged chamburg's parents
put a box on a porch
with john inside
rang the doorbell and
ran
across the street to hide behind a car
john jumped out
the lady screamed
the husband yelled
john ran
came back the next night
attached a long cord to
the empty box
rang the doorbell....
hang on st. Christopher
the moon
was never fuller
and we all enjoyed
a little madness for
awhile
Nov 27, 2018
Nov 27, 2018 at 12:15 PM UTC
I did errands today
and I was confused
Something was wrong, astray
I mused
I settled into the evening quiet
And my disquieted soul shouted
"The flags were not at half staff"
As the West Wing staff and Cabinet was trimmed by half
Yesterday, Congress was sieged by riff-raff
45 egged them on
Congress counted the Electoral votes
but our troubles are not all gone
Today, I needed to see that flag half-mast
My grief begged for a symbol against the bombast
And yet the flag waved, full staff, as if nothing and no one mattered
And no one has said a word
Jan 8, 2021
Jan 8, 2021 at 12:36 AM UTC
Quaalude Bill I'm called
'cause to many hot ladies
I slipped a pill or two
then each lady
I shamelessly balled
I loved every one of them
in my own way
but deeply regret how
I went off the track
with my mad zest
for ***** crack
Oh, they did flash me a bit
egged me on
but that's no excuse
for my despicable ruse
I don't ask the ladies' forgiveness
What's done is done
I rub my tired eyes and try to calm
my uncalm heart, ask
might we not walk a little again
under the ancient blessings of the healing sun?
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 6:15 PM UTC
PERFECT WIFE
A perfect little wife
A perfect loving life
He slaps me in the face
I don’t feel disgrace.
As long as he comes home
And doesn’t choose to roam
Then I will toe the line
And all will be just fine.
I’m not the perfect wife
I can get out of hand
He’s the love of my life
You have to understand.
We have so much invested
In our life together.
He’s so very special
I’ll never find another.
It’s not his fault
What is going on.
It’s not his fault
I egged him on.
It’s not his fault
I burned his dinner.
It’s not his fault
I should have known better.
A perfect little wife
A perfect loving life
He slaps me in the face
I don’t feel disgrace.
As long as he comes home
And doesn’t choose to roam
Then I will toe the line
And all will be just fine.
When he’s sweet
He’s the love of my life.
He’s the perfect husband
For such a ******* up wife
When he’s angry
He’s not the same.
It’s all my fault;
He’s not to blame.
A perfect little wife
A perfect loving life
He slaps me in the face
I don’t feel disgrace.
As long as he comes home
And doesn’t choose to roam
Then I will toe the line
And all will be just fine.
Brent Kincaid
4/1/2015
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 7:43 AM UTC
The one that egged houses with me, bad *****
The one that smoked with me, bad *****
The one that got into trouble with the cops with me, bad *****
The one that over dosed with me, bad *****
The one that was willing to accept my habits and try them, bad *****
The one that swore to be there in the end, bad *****
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 10:41 AM UTC
she set the pumpkins out,
and decorated her house.
she got her costume ready,
she was a measly gray mouse.
the witches came riding,
and the black cats hissed.
the neighbourhood boys egged houses,
but her house they missed.
children cried out "TRICK OR TREAT,"
and parents rushed them along.
she was with her group of friends,
a place where she didn't belong.
ghosts come haunting the streets,
and the blood of vampires drip down.
superheroes run house to house,
and clowns turn their frowns upside down.
it's a night that everyone waits for,
a night where the dead roam free.
it's a night where i let myself go,
it's a night where i can be me.
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 8:38 PM UTC
To impeach or not to impeach: that is the question
To bar myself against his merciless beliefs
Or to deal with a worse evil by the name of Pence
His speeches of deportation and his turning of the laws
With his tiny hands and orange face is deplorable, despicable!
The destruction by the racist himself to LGBT+’s civil rights
Has wrought havoc for the transgendered, has instilled fear into us
To impeach or to keep
Pence, a sidekick, a partner in crime to the man in question, a worse evil
Hatred of us, boiling beneath his republican skin
Conversion therapy becoming an option, scarring and scaring the youths
Homophobia on the rise after the biggest triumph for us
Laws passed in June of 2015 no longer holding meaning
This man spreading his opinions to the new generations
To keep Mr. Trump would save us from a meaner man
But what would save us from the man who helped make America racist again?
There’s misogyny, bigotry, and racism filling the office
Violence, arrogance and white supremacy filling our country
Supported by Russia, the KKK, and racist republicans
Trump has taken this land into violence, fear, and hatred of one another
He has made public shaming against those with disabilities appropriate
And his voters have accepted this America as a great one
People are beginning to revert back to their prior nativism views
But to us Pence is a worse evil
Threats, pain, and fear still running deep within our communities
Shootings, violence, and property damage are just to name a few
Running rampant in our communities, egged on by this Vice President
Though Lord Voldemort may be terrible
Behind him is a line of Red Racist Bigots to replace him
Due to this, the Evil Man will have to be kept
And impeaching cannot take place
Mar 26, 2018
Mar 26, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
I kissed a boy,
whom I gave my heart to
I kissed a boy,
who played with my heart,
with no intention on returning it
I kissed a boy,
who thought my heart was just another everyday object
and threw it down the gutter
when he realised
he had no use of it anymore
I kissed a boy,
who threw my heart down the gutter
because it stopped beating for him
who tore me apart
drowned my lungs out with black blood
and suffocated me with the hatred
he enveloped around himself
simply because he couldn't stand the sight of himself in the mirror
I kissed a boy,
and he planted demons in my head,
egged on the voices who told me I was not worth it,
telling me daily that I was useless and a waste of space,
deafening my silent mind with their dark words,
eventually helping his hatred
consume me too
and killed me off inside
just like he had murdered himself
I kissed a boy,
and he killed slowly with the anger and self-loathing inside of him
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 9:27 AM UTC
more often than not, a knightly surge
combs a pawn me,
especially after the stroke of midnight, when
hermetically sealed in my rookery,
where bats in the belfry
flap their wings at the speed
of sound times ten
thence, this king heads to his counting house
(which doubles asthma
Perkiomen Valley bishopric)
to economize on space,
especially during tax time
(as April fifteenth slowly approaches,
me heartbeat doth) quicken
though becalmed, when imbibing
idyllic, fantastic, and bucolic kingdom
Americana paintings courtesy, sans nomen
Percevel Rockwell, thus jitteriness pacified,
particularly speaking
on the telly phone with Ken
Burns, whose trademark documentaries,
particularly War between the States,
where even roosting hen
got into the frayed scrimmage vis a vis, even
chilly being egged on to surrender as Ben
a fit to this American
Civil War Yankee incarnate,
whose doodling word
ya probably don't give a hoot -Amen!
Mar 18, 2018
Mar 18, 2018 at 2:21 AM UTC
I can taste your chastity
Tipping on my tongue as I watch
Consumed by your virtue
Baffled by your grace
How?
How does one breathe with such innocence
And laugh with no worry
I heard you were sheltered
Its easy when you've been born in silence
Watch my eyes as I ponder
Egged on by your serenity
Why?
Why do you speak with white letters
And laugh with no worry
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 7:17 PM UTC
I have mastered this at a very young age
Trust me, darling, I feel no pain
You think you're cooler than me
Well I think you're strange
You think you have life figured out and that yo are going to go far
Well guess what ? I hate you now and I egged your car
Your smile is a very sweet one but when you open it to talk at me I want to delete you out of my life
He was taking photos of me and now you're trying to become his wife
You feel like an ancient queen so here's my advice
Ready for it?
Just die.
Dec 6, 2016
Dec 6, 2016 at 12:11 AM UTC
Stillness. There is no fire causing havoc in the forest.
There is no floodwater to wash away the dirt it rests upon,
Screaming a song. The birds are mellow.
The squirrels are hiding. My back rests against a maple tree.
Imagination is free, but bound by peaceful things.
My thoughts can wander freely, but the woods are dull.
Can you sing me a song? My plots fall flat.
Falling... though an endless void. There is only black.
This mind is useless if my tales are null.
I already drowned the rabbit hole.
Silence. I already egged the nests,
And boulders keep the bears at rest.
They're sleeping. The woods are sleeping. The trees still standing,
And I'm still humming this same old tune.
Aug 14, 2016
Aug 14, 2016 at 9:37 PM UTC
Baruch sat with Fay
on top of the concrete
bomb shelter
on the grass area
of Banks House
in early evening
looking skyward
taking in the stars
sprinkled in the dark
blue sheet of sky
and the moon quartered
as if someone
had taken a slice
out of it like cheese
the coal wharf
was closed up
the shops shut
a few stragglers walked
to the Duke of Wellington
for a drink
deserved or not
steam trains
still went over
the railway bridge
over Rockingham Street
disturbing the air
Daddy said
Jews killed Jesus
Fay said
looking side ways
at Baruch beside her
is that true?
I think the Romans
did the killing
the Jews kind of
egged them on
I suppose
Baruch said
but Jesus himself
was a Jew
he added
watching a bat
flap across the sky
catching his eye
was he?
she said frowning
he doesn't look Jewish
in the picture
in my Bible
she said
he looks
kind of unJewish
Baruch smiled
I guess they painted
the Jewishness
out of him
he said
she lay back
on the shelter roof
her hands resting
on her stomach
looking at the sky
Baruch lay beside her
the density of space
is fascinating
he said
kind of
makes you wonder
how far in it goes and on
Heaven is out there
Daddy said
Fay suggested shyly
beyond the deep dark
Baruch watched
another bat
flap by
the light of stars
reaches us
long after the star
has burnt out
and died
he said
it's like seeing
ghost stars
she laughed
and reached
for his hand
really?
she said
sure are
stars are light years away
their light takes
many years
to reach us
she held his hand
it felt warm
in the evening air
the light
from the nearest star
left there
when we
were 8 years old
and now we're 12
and seeing it
here and now
she liked to feel
his hand and skin
she dismissed
what her father said
that to touch
a Jew
was a deadly sin.
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
I've changed.
I'm no longer myself
what happened to me?
I've become selfish
I'm now a narcissist
what happened to me?
what pushed me?
who am I now?
what happened to me?
I'm screaming on the inside
constantly angry at myself
what happened to me?
wanting what's best for me
and yet I don't do so
what happened to me?
I used to do everything I could
I still do but do I really..
what happened to me?
why am I constantly upset?
and constantly angry?
what happened to me?
sometimes people change
I just wish I wouldn't have
what happened to me?
I'm now so irritable
what egged me on?
what happened to me?
I'm angry at myself
terrified of who I've become
what the **** happened to me..
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC
*here’s to lonely nights and resounding silence,
uplifting darkness and solitude abundant,
of wandering thoughts and imprisoned dreams;
when the night is a better companion than it normally seems.
here’s to the nights you spent crying in bed:
egged on by the monsters whispering in your head,
of nightmares dreamed once upon a time;
when nonsense was reason and chaos was rhyme.
here’s to the nights you felt so alone:
only company a mute, unringing phone
soaked with and made ruin with tears -
only voice on the other line was your head full of fears.
here’s to the night when the one stepped through the door:
unexpected surprise, footsteps patter on the floor,
two silhouettes like wayward trains meet.
bodies collapsing into one, admitting defeat.
"I could never win this war without you," admitted one.
“oh baby, don’t you worry, our journey’s just begun,”
she whispered as she clutched his glove between two hands,
and together they traveled beyond the land.
the night is never forever and more.
so don’t keep looking down, stop kissing the floor.
look up at the sky for a moment and you’ll see,
a billion stars shining for the person you’ll be.*
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 9:58 AM UTC
Line by line, recite my pain
Neither me, you or the world to blame
Remembering how weak I was
Forgetting how strong I am
Surrender, my talent
Giving up, never my plan
I don't want to be just another man
I want to be special and unique
Different yet the same and admirable
I want success, I want to be humble
The universe doesn't care
Nothing is planned
Since fate doesn't exist
Every day is different
Every day is the same
I make no difference to this world
I'll never make a change
If I'm honest
I myself never really liked change
Hell, I never really even liked myself
A jealous individual is me
A sad one too
"Woe is me" cliché yet true
I wake up every day and cry inside
"What am I going to do?"
Every poem I wrote sounds the same
"Oh sadness, Oh love, Oh money,
Oh baby, Oh please, Oh why"
I'm suffocated by anger
Egged on by pain
An old soul with a young face
A young man with no place
Very few friends since eighteen
All I am is a sob story
An easy to get on with drama queen
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 2:18 PM UTC
The Boxer
He had the saddest eyes I have ever seen
hands trembled like drunkard's
after a fortnight's bender but dipsomaniac
could always have another drink
Ali could not Parkinson's disease saw to that
This poet of the ring a victim of success
egged on too long, just another fight my love
Honours and medal they bestowed him
it came too late his voice was but a whisper
In the glade butterflies fly as Ali once did
Not as fast as Mohammed Ali.
Jun 4, 2016
Jun 4, 2016 at 5:30 PM UTC
~
2/7/25
<•>
the price of eggs is mundane,
controlled by supply and demand,
and the human need for
pleasure and pain,
delivered by merely breathing
what you are sensing
is a staple
that is unique and yet-ubiquitous,
entree always calculable
with math
With X being your financial
limitations, you can/cannot
afford
the pleasure or the pain
of eggs, especially the
Omega-3 Cage Free Vegetarian
Growth Hormone-Antibiotic
and Pesticides Free,
you so
Lazarus yearn to be free to buy,
but you’re free still
to buy and swallow the cheapest
eggs and still live another day
BUT THE PRICE OF POETRY!
Dear God, it’s beyond costly,
beyond mundane
it is pleasure and the pain,
in combination,
irreplaceable and un substitutable,
and happily
affordable and free
Incalculable and Unlimited
so unlike eggs
for I speak
of & to
your very soul
I would not die if I
never was to enjoy
an egg in any form ever;
but
*if I-would
never write nor read another
poem, even then, I still would not-die,
but if only, and yet,
one could, one must
at the very least*
live a life poetic
*seeing and appreciating
the mysterious in/of life
the simplest complexity
of a stolen kiss,
the inescapable high
of one more spectacle
of morning sunrise
and the mourning meaning
of an evenings sunset*
*the precise mathematics of life
that is imprecisely inherent in it all,
of all that is
inherent in out
be~ing
and all that is
with~in
& ab~out us,*
is recorded by our senses
preserved by memory
sometimes well, and sometimes not!
so we write to preserve it
better
in poems, music & paint
try to keep
the quantity of love and truth
given to us by family and friend,
in your heart+soul
but perhaps somethings
mathematically unmeasurable,
are harder to keep close by,
but this element of
the life poetic is corporeal
is measurable
determinate
effected
by the
*unlimited availability of the
poetic life you
can choose to live
and the words
in your possess
you
can choose too*
if
*one has
to keep it
closer still*
if you so choose to record it
with imperfect fallible
but yet useful
words
you live forever
<•>
(^And the muse is laughing at me,
She, giggling, saying
“you see why you rise up at 4:45 AM,
Only then can you see and love
and write of your poetic life!
and you willingly would die
when egged on to the beyond-you
on that day no longer do you ask
why, where when
and how”)
Feb 7, 2025
Feb 7, 2025 at 4:34 PM UTC
I watched my love die on the sand
As blood mingled with the earth
I watched the light fade from his eyes
Sweet breath abandon his lungs
I saw him suffer to say some word
A sad way to waste the last of breath
In my hand a desperate grasp
Pale against skin, gasp against sob
A cry from lips of pain and loss
In this short eternity I was so lost
And as the staining darkness reached his eyes
The moon did break
Propelling shattering crystal across my sky
No more night would fill my life
With no more moon to light the way
Only sun filled days
No more reprieve from scorching rays
Spiteful as they burn my eyes
Already sore from things too bright
~
Even as life relinquished its hold
And the fingers of mortality would press no more upon him
I held on still
I held, I clung as if to root him
To where he should belong
I dared the earth to split beneath
Even then it would not be enough
To give up night
And surrender to sun
What should I say
Farewell
Goodbye
Soon the sun will come
And you will leave me
And you will fade
~
The dawn that broke
Brought a mournful shade
The warmth that seeped through clouds of dew
Seemed to mock me in its wake
Sounds of morning
Whispering false peace into my ear
Egged on a pain that seemed to sear
Within my chest, my bones
Every inch beneath my skin
~
I huddled beside it
The empty thing I had loved
And that had once loved me
My head lay upon his chest
Otiose against my being
I clutched closer
As if my beating heart could call him back...
Jun 10, 2012
Jun 10, 2012 at 11:43 PM UTC
Dormant, standing on the bow peering out with telescope in hand
Quite seas
Off in the distance,
Land
Bright sunlight piercing through closed fingers
Shielding the reflection of the ocean and sky
To no avail
Telescope still in hand
Distance drawing nearer
"Land ** yells the lookout as dry ugly faces peer out from below deck
Grumbling voices wake from their slumber as the crew saunters their way into the day light and fresh air
They grab rope, and hooks, swords, and supplies
Captain steering towards the shore
They hop on three dinghies
Eight strong
Yo ** ** and a bottle of ***
Eyepatches, sly grins, and peg legs a plenty
No one greets them on the small island
They are there to pillage the resources and devour the meats as they reach soil
Sharp teeth and empty stomachs
Tattoos of women with large ******* and anchors, hearts, and daggers
***
Much *** will be swigged and landing in bellies come nightfall
Songs sung by fires warm light
At mornings break they shall hunt and scour the land for animals and resources
They haven't a map but smell treasure
They know it's there
They whiff at the air to determine their course
They argue their cut, their share of their findings until one man lay dead from sharp blades final judgement
More for the taking of the rest of the crew
Morning comes
Through the branches, over rocks they climb towards the peek
The summit
A cave, a cave is in sight
They throw rocks in order to draw out and living creature that may have made a home inside
No sound permeates
It is safe to enter
Fire sticks are lit and cave is entered with caution
Whispers and hushes
They stumble
Head meets rock
Blood
This is no easy life
They reach a cavernous waterhole
The first man is egged on to explore its contents
Explore its depth
The water is knee deep
Until, until he sinks out of sight and the water swallows him whole
Startled, the men scamper back to dry land
"Where has our fellow mate gone", they ask
Splashing, he reemerges
He reaches the surface and cries out
"Gold!!"
Feb 18, 2017
Feb 18, 2017 at 1:34 AM UTC
Have you ever loved a friend?
Unbeknownst to him, waited for his words
To play havoc on your heart..
Have you ever loved a friend,
Laughed at all his silliest puns,
Cried for him your secret tears
And yet egged him on to touch the stars?
Have you ever loved a friend
Cherished his thoughts, worshipped his laughter,
Never daring to open your heart
Shared his wildest, craziest deeds?
Have you ever loved a friend
Who pried open all your secrets except one,
Silently loved him in all your lonely dreams
And yet let him free to love?
Have you ever loved a friend?
Unbeknownst to him, waited for his words
To play havoc on your heart..
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
She was sitting in the corner crying
I can't do this anymore she said,
her nerves were nearly all shattered
I knelt down and hugged her
I told her the show must go on
she looked at me with make up all a running
she nodded and slowly got to her feet
just one more act and the play would be complete
I egged her on with a bums on seats gag
she smiled sweetly, which made me blush
if only we walked arm in arm
she would make my garden lush
if she knew how much I loved her
in all her delicate physique
maybe she would think of me as lover
not the person who plays so meek
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 5:51 PM UTC