"fleer" poems
Oh werewolf with woollen wings,
Whimpering in the willows.
Thou vile voice a vice grip
Stuffed inside her pillows.
Yours is a violent cry for help
One should never have to hear.
So dare come near, just know it clear.
Your fleer; my leer. For tears, jeers and
Featherweight fears will never break weirs that
Forever fill wells deeper than the darkest hole
You gouged in the lightest soul.
Your sword; her shield. My words; wounds healed.
I’m ever bending moonlight to set it right.
Go haunt yourself through a never ending night!
A single silver bullet shimmers in her sunlight.
The same one you shot upright.
Falling fast into the broken bed you made.
Now let it embed deep in your head. Well played.
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 10:22 PM UTC
Fleer
to grin or laugh coarsely or mockingly
have you fleered today?
or do you fleer the day
that your greatest fears will fleer
right in your face
I think it’s funny how the word
fear
sounds like
fleer
well not ‘funny’, per say, but in a dark ironic fashion
because, so often we fear to be fleered
we fear to hear cackling
that define our mistakes to be clear
but if you fleer at fear
then maybe,
just maybe,
fear will go away
if you laugh in its face and say
‘I won’t be fleered today,
but you, you fear, will fear the day,
that you become fleered in an adhering way
so stop making me fear and steer clear away
cause once the end is here it will be freaking clear as day
that you fear, were the real *****
the whole. entire. time.’
cause, really, fear just fears to be fleered as much as you do
so fear shouldn’t be feared because it’s just here to confuse you
because the ‘only thing to fear is fear itself’
but if you fear fear then it will trick you to believe something else
because we’re all deprived of the hope that our cards that are dealt
are just another way to make life a hell
so don’t fear, fear, look it straight in the eye
then turn away from fear
because there are miles ahead of you
that don’t involve fear, that involve confidence and security
and your journey is just about to begin
-Slang
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 10:37 AM UTC
"Your heavenly eyes renounce me of solitude"
Words that now mock and fleer
Words that begin a paroxysm
Curse me, Hebrew woman
Soul bare across cold concrete
Hand in hand, lady skeleton
Face of an angel
Devils thrive inside
Reaching off a cliff
For the sweetest of fruit
Beware the fall, young one
Beware
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 9:34 AM UTC
It was green before this torment
It was jovial before this storm
There was no stinging tear
But, the clamouring of fleer
My heart throbs with every breath
For I have swallowed a venomous drink of fear
My eyes are searching for a life
An intimate being they do seek
The winds whispered in my ear
‘All those are gone and some disappeared.’
The foul odor around is burning my soul
And the bawling of dismay is all I can hear
For the night is restless and it beseeches aid
I, here, stand still with my back on a spear
The world will recite my story, it will celebrate this day
And will sleep somehow after the vigils on the graves
Yet how I shall find the one who gave me birth?
And will he pay for my dreams with a fatherly stare?
Solace is not what I require
Words will no longer prevail
For I do not feel anything
It is now an eternal pain
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 11:30 AM UTC
the error rate of rage and snarl,
so very high
the youthful intolerance of every sad slight,
wearies me
the political correctness of the day spoils,
both the day and the night,
words can never harm me
who owns the truth?
the truth I belove is the opened arm,
the child comforted,
the kiss of the
parent and the child
not a fleer, or unafraid,
a grown man who has raised his fists in anger,
I defend fierce mine and my rights,
attack me with stick and stone,
and you shall run into my knife unsheathed
but the snarlers and the goose steppers
almost always fail,
choking on poisoned vitriol,
their own petard does not hoist them,
except to the gallows of the nothingness of infamy
I fight for tranquility and green pastures
where all shall lie down with whom they want
yet all I see is the valley of the shadow,
all I hear is the rattling from the valley of the bones
strange is the calm I feel, for rage is an old companion
my weapons are neither dull or rusted,
or put away for never to be used
come to me in peace, one by one,
come to me with chivalrous acts and kindness
spread like thick butter on dark country bread
I will easy embrace, protect and defend,
all the days of my life
rage against the dying light if you must,
but do not deny that rage hasten the dark
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 4:41 AM UTC
She observed herself
Standing fast in clouds of steam
This felt so unreal.
Remote perspective
Would make survivable the
Dreaded encounter.
The necessities:
Tickets, porter, clock,
Time creeping along.
Maintained a distance
And staunch objectivity
‘Til the last moment.
Final words spoken,
All defenses splintering
She paused, one last look.
One last chance to stay,
Vanquished, punished, forbidden
The wide world’s pageant.
.
Point of inflexion.
The tug of the familiar
The pull of the known
Would invert the arc,
Intended trajectory,
Retrogressively.
And then, there it was:
Unctuous, demeaning smile,
Withering and cruel.
Pierced by well-honed fleer,
She reflexively shuddered
Like fly-stung horseflesh.
Ears roaring; face flushed
She felt foolish, faint-hearted,
humiliated.
One breath, and one more,
Forcing herself to stare down
Scorn and ridicule.
Then chin uplifted
And breath becalmed, she nodded
And scant smiled Adieu.
Thus the poetess
Righted her millinery,
Spun on her bootheel,
Snapped her parasol,
gave her bustle a barely
Perceptible shake,
And with solemn mien,
But mirthful eyes, she set forth
For better morrow.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 12:05 AM UTC