"execrate" poems - Hello Poetry

Sloane swallows. ***** is **** I execrate extraterrestrial. We are all kaput to conk out. Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky. Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty. I verily don’t grease a ***** Oojakapivvycum. If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism. The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing ********** I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies. I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert That penetrate ***** creature. I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it. It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing. We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium. I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux **** But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android *** Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself. I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail. I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types. I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs, Ad hominen id. Ex post facto, I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself. I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ****** Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème. Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.

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Mar 21, 2010

Mar 21, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC

irma-cerrutti

We Are All Sadomasochistically Decomposing In A Heap Of Our Own Meconium

Sloane swallows. ***** is **** I execrate extraterrestrial. We are all kaput to conk out. Pollyanna is singular hanky—panky. Little green men are unpatriotic, perverted and naughty. I verily don’t grease a ***** Oojakapivvycum. If you are amphibious that means you are an effervescent ventriloquist capable of Cannibalism, cannibalism and cannibalism. The fluid inside the android is so gothic and naff It is knock—kneed in the face of flashing ********** I do not feel that I am on the shoulders of cobber doggies. I am protoplastically lassoed abutting penetrating vampire and pervert That penetrate ***** creature. I have pricked little green men myself and taken pleasure in it. It is only with the help of bad hair days of groupies that I have not been in Sing Sing. We are all sadomasochistically decomposing in a heap of our own meconium. I bore stiff to outstrip yours truly as much as I have room to swing a cat from Ku Klux **** But I am as complicit in the android’s ****** abuse as it were android *** Little green men ***** me as I ***** myself. I ***** bug—eyed men’s ******* types as I have perpetually vomited Molotov cocktail. I smell little green men’s filth televised on their ******* types. I feel like I am inside a crust of cancers who delight in smelling others bonk upstairs, Ad hominen id. Ex post facto, I am too much of a dastard to throw cold water on myself. I coagulate gungily to my menstrual gibbering ****** Castrating anti—Semite to flash me abutting crème de la crème. Strenuously, my ***** gluts under one’s nose because that is all there is.

29

will come unpredictably not surprisingly the ultimate hardship to be weathered luffed through mercilessness and squall and scud and a nearly drowning wave subtle as the undertow though weren’t hardships named this way— to be sailed? what would my first breath have drawn had I never felt my own breath now teetering upon the thread of disappearance? what light would my birth have shone upon me had I never come to execrate it like an immolation? the ultimate will wedge itself beating repetitions into you deep as the deepest—timelessness remember when you told yourself remember this? pounding your chest? remember it you were right

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Mar 27, 2012

Mar 27, 2012 at 8:12 PM UTC

daniello

The Transcendent Event

will come unpredictably not surprisingly the ultimate hardship to be weathered luffed through mercilessness and squall and scud and a nearly drowning wave subtle as the undertow though weren’t hardships named this way— to be sailed? what would my first breath have drawn had I never felt my own breath now teetering upon the thread of disappearance? what light would my birth have shone upon me had I never come to execrate it like an immolation? the ultimate will wedge itself beating repetitions into you deep as the deepest—timelessness remember when you told yourself remember this? pounding your chest? remember it you were right

34

I loathe him. I like the sound of that one. Loathe. It stretches out the tongue and draws the lips together. Loathe. Webster's says that it expresses utter disgust and intolerance. Execrate. I execrate him and all he stands for. "to declare to be evil or detestable" Sounds ****** just like him. I abhor him. Abhor--to regard with extreme repugnance. Abhor has that hard air sound in its middle like the sound made when preparing to spit. Yes. That works. Except he's not worth spit.

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Apr 1, 2013

Apr 1, 2013 at 12:56 AM UTC

janeEBsmith

Hate is not a hard enough word.

I loathe him. I like the sound of that one. Loathe. It stretches out the tongue and draws the lips together. Loathe. Webster's says that it expresses utter disgust and intolerance. Execrate. I execrate him and all he stands for. "to declare to be evil or detestable" Sounds ****** just like him. I abhor him. Abhor--to regard with extreme repugnance. Abhor has that hard air sound in its middle like the sound made when preparing to spit. Yes. That works. Except he's not worth spit.

13

I like to look out the window and count how many rooms stay lit after midnight, on a sunday night. how many souls breathe despair & anxiety. how many people lay and execrate their following morning shift. how many people's child keeps them zombified at night. how many people just don't care... it's 2 in the morning, and it's nice being me.

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Apr 13, 2015

Apr 13, 2015 at 10:26 AM UTC

jm98

Breathe In

I like to look out the window and count how many rooms stay lit after midnight, on a sunday night. how many souls breathe despair & anxiety. how many people lay and execrate their following morning shift. how many people's child keeps them zombified at night. how many people just don't care... it's 2 in the morning, and it's nice being me.

24

I hate her. I loathe her. I despise her. I abhor her Detest, execrate, am repelled by her. I am aggravated by her breathing. I am repulsed by her being. I am dominated by my hate for her. I am filled with hatred for hating her. I humiliate myself by hating her, but it feels good

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Sep 11, 2014

Sep 11, 2014 at 7:27 PM UTC

Camellia-japonica

Her

I hate her. I loathe her. I despise her. I abhor her Detest, execrate, am repelled by her. I am aggravated by her breathing. I am repulsed by her being. I am dominated by my hate for her. I am filled with hatred for hating her. I humiliate myself by hating her, but it feels good

10

I've learn to abhor many things such as The taste of salty, **** tears on my tongue, The aroma of the dewy, crisp forest floor, The vision of blue eyes intertwined with bliss dancing away, The feel of a burning hot neck being pressed on by a gelid nose The sound of a drowsy midnight voice whispering "I love you." But it seems that what I've come to execrate Are the same as what I was once learning to grow fond of.

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May 29, 2014

May 29, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC

si24erra

Love Turns To Hate

I've learn to abhor many things such as The taste of salty, **** tears on my tongue, The aroma of the dewy, crisp forest floor, The vision of blue eyes intertwined with bliss dancing away, The feel of a burning hot neck being pressed on by a gelid nose The sound of a drowsy midnight voice whispering "I love you." But it seems that what I've come to execrate Are the same as what I was once learning to grow fond of.

8

Are we to be knights, valiant and courageous? Who leap into the fray with eyes ablaze to drown in blood of foes Or grudging conscripts, having held just enough ground, with Sullen faces due the touch of the next dawn Whose names never make it into tales They detest bald carrion-cleaners so, they do Even as winged beaks rend the flesh of fathers, sons, brothers Stripping carcasses from putrid decay to liberation, clean-picked white bone To spare their loved ones the odious descent into pestilence Misguided hate hovers in place of black clouds of flies Weep! Bemoan! Execrate! For all the use it may be Brick by brick watchtowers fall and signal flames choke into trails of smoke A portent; walls recede, the castle shudders and recoils Screaming crow murders knell the looming storm Are we to be knights?

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Jun 15, 2016

Jun 15, 2016 at 12:10 PM UTC

clxrion

Citadel

Are we to be knights, valiant and courageous? Who leap into the fray with eyes ablaze to drown in blood of foes Or grudging conscripts, having held just enough ground, with Sullen faces due the touch of the next dawn Whose names never make it into tales They detest bald carrion-cleaners so, they do Even as winged beaks rend the flesh of fathers, sons, brothers Stripping carcasses from putrid decay to liberation, clean-picked white bone To spare their loved ones the odious descent into pestilence Misguided hate hovers in place of black clouds of flies Weep! Bemoan! Execrate! For all the use it may be Brick by brick watchtowers fall and signal flames choke into trails of smoke A portent; walls recede, the castle shudders and recoils Screaming crow murders knell the looming storm Are we to be knights?

15

Our love lays in an unmarked grave Covered with autumn leaves, Wrapped in unsent letters I tend to it secretly, silently I make pacts with Gods I don't believe in, I pray to Gods who execrate me But you You dance around it Shouting about your new love The best one you ever had, The first one you ever had

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Oct 1, 2021

Oct 1, 2021 at 3:24 PM UTC

xarvie

Grief III

Our love lays in an unmarked grave Covered with autumn leaves, Wrapped in unsent letters I tend to it secretly, silently I make pacts with Gods I don't believe in, I pray to Gods who execrate me But you You dance around it Shouting about your new love The best one you ever had, The first one you ever had

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