"grievously" poems
That the intensity of our society
That shattered and splattered our history
With the blood and sorrow of our humanity
Our family
Makes me weep
Makes me speak grievously
For the evils of hiding our grief
We need to see the suffering
To begin to heal our reality
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 5:11 PM UTC
Ah humanity!
That grievously savage race-
Entertained by pain.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 6:47 PM UTC
My patience has been stretched inordinately thin,
My back bone has started to spear through my skin
and I will not snap it back in place
to make
you more comfortable.
I see through you
and your slimy, translucent, skin.
I promise I notice
every bit of effort you do not put in.
It sinks my heart into my stomach,
And every truth Ive been swallowing will be regurgitated and spit out before I am sick again.
My back feels like it's going to break from bending over all the cracks in your concrete,
While you step on mine,
Thinking you are somehow above me this way, but dear,
we all crack the same.
Just in different places, and at different paces.
And I have been running down only one ways
lately.
But these roads don't lead me any closer to you, they drive you away, and if you think i can run forever,
While you stay the same,
You are grievously
wrong.
I can only give so much.
And at the end of the day,
I will love the people who reciprocate that love back, and meet me halfway.
I will love you always,
but for a love that hurts more than it heals, I can not wait, and I will not stay.
Aug 7, 2017
Aug 7, 2017 at 1:03 PM UTC
I wrote it on the back of my hand one day, I told you that I needed you – you wiped the smile off my face with your thumb, like I had smudged the words right out of my mouth. You taught me invaluable lessons I am sure never to forget, I was schooled by you, in ways I never really understood. I was a child, innocent by the very lapels on which you grew me up. Dragged me up, scuffed my shoes at the front and back. Untied my bra strap with your little finger and told me, listen here, love, I know exactly what I am doing. Made me believe in you, you did. Made me fall for every word. Made me fall for every whisper of love. Tenderly I was hooked by you.
You were the machine of my creation. Your greatest ever work of art. You sculpted my very inner being, tied me to my soul with burnt fingers and made me believe I was worth nothing more than **** Your purpose was excellent. Completely fooled I was, your succinct underhand ways grievously ruined my sight. No longer could I see reality, living in world prepared for, cooked up and served by you. I lost a lot of blood in those first few years, a lot of good stock died. My passion became my greatest detriment, for should I talk you would take the words from my mouth and mark them in the air; deconstructed with a red pen you would make me realise my mistakes.
Thank you for all you have done. To me. For me. With me. My ear is no longer connected to your mouth. I can breeeeeathe without having to miss a step. All my love that I was proud to possess had been given away, but I was proud to have failed you, I was proud to weep under you, I was proud, to have loved you and not gotten away with it. I take full responsibility for all my tremendous actions, the ones I gave for you, laid down in honour for you, to wipe your pretty little feet all over the back of my head. I turned around to face you and slapped that face right off your mouth
Loved I was by you. Needed I was by you, to be, you. I wrote **** you, on my ******* fingers and shoved them up your **** Now you talk my language, now you wait for me to see you. Now you know I am no longer your dishrag, your teatowel or your muse. Got it back I did, got back my heat, my fury, and glory. Action packed with honour and fire, loving and loved. I learnt from you lessons which I shall never forget, I was schooled by you. Wanted to thank you, for I am no longer afraid, my sweet ****** of you and your heart. This is a glorious world, one which you will never feel.
Jan 19, 2013
Jan 19, 2013 at 4:58 PM UTC
He told his sister to feed the dogs,
His twin sister; Sophia Bogvoskya,
As he was to take out the herds
Of horses, sheep, donkeys and cows,
Out to the plains and hill land for grazing,
She never took a **** she locked herself,
Up in the ante chamber of the main house,
She took the mirror and began looking
At her beauty, Russian model beauty
She began picking her nails,
As the dogs were starving in the sheds
They whined but no succor came forth,
A fiat that coincided with arrival of ogres,
The great Western Ogres, the tongues wagging,
They had a plethora of eyes and mouths,
Noses and ears, limbs both hind and fore,
They ate all the young sheep,
They took away Putin’s young brothers
Crimea and Ukrainian, both were taken away,
By the ferocious NATO ogres they were taken
In a whelp and desperate kicking for freedom,
Dogs stood aloof as ogres thrashed Sophia
Into thin lacerations of red flesh,
They ate as they roared with laughter,
Then they went away with their loot,
Vladimir came back home, found nothing
No sister, no brothers no sheeplings,
Only two white sepulchers glared at him,
The graves of his mother and father;
The former cooks of Lenin Vladimir,
He mourned and mourned grievously,
Then he sang a dirge of his forefathers
From the herculean land of Bosnia,
And also Moscow, he dirged;
We were born in the wee of the night,
When the bear is whelping,
And we were suckled by the Tigre
When our mothers were taken slaves,
For no man or creature
Will ever make us victims
Nor subjects of fear,
He recovered from the moment
Trial some moment of loss and bereave,
Then he chose to go after the ogres
But with a strategum of no match,
He began arming himself first
Before he could set on,
His mobile armory full of deadly weapons;
A bunch of wasps, wild bees, black ants,
A thousand slings, spears and sickles,
Machetes, poisonous saps, and toxics,
Wild dogs, five hundred snakes and scorpions,
Bows and arrows as well as cudgels,
Clubs, stones and chains,
He also learned how to use the hands
In the most lethal manner,
Then he went for combat,
To rescue all that was taken,
Taken from him by the ogres….
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
The eye of the storm sighs-
An unusual sight to see.
A weary-eyed hurricane approaching me grievously.
Howling heartaches with tremendous teardrops.
So what was I to do?
Ignore the devastation's depression?
Storm out on the disastrous typhoon
And let it persist pessimistically?
So I sighed back.
Restoring strength to the hopeless traveler.
Making amends for the countless barricades set
For the storm that just needed to open up.
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 1:43 AM UTC
The words weren’t daggers.
Weren’t meant to ****
They were spindly,
like needles.
But barbed.
So they latch.
*I’m not grievously wounded.
Yet I’m still bleeding out...*
.
Aug 2, 2019
Aug 2, 2019 at 2:41 PM UTC
This night is going backwards
as I entomb and eat all of my words.
We're not vigilant anymore
and I wish I wasn't aware of it anymore.
I shattered our animated screen
and am practicing remaining carefully unseen.
I'm grasping at loose strings with loose fists
and burying the things I've kissed and moments I've grievously missed.
I'm learning how to be detached
and to manage these vibrantly mundane daily tasks
and recognizing a resonantly unseemly girl
monitor my reflection which unfurls
into some unrecognizable mask
and I dress myself in a costume of a cloak
that's a joke to poke around at
but still clings to my body and to my memory like some ancient artifact.
How about that?
And is this all because you are weak?
No, I think it's because I am weak.
And so we attempt to refrain from our harrowing fumes.
Somehow you're inhaling our fumes,
detached in solitude somewhere on our atlas.
You're oblivious to the fact that I'm deflating to nothing.
But it's whatever.
It's nothing.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 3:38 AM UTC
Outside my door
Beneath the hum of the spinning machinery of the night
The mechanized whirl of the star crusted mammoth
She waters her blouse with a stranger's lament
Grievously mourning the separation of what is
and what could never be
Carried away pell mell by the picking magpies
of lowered expectation
And beneath the bluster of the ancient whorl
Cars hiss past my window to remind me I'm alive
Sunken beneath the levels of minimum expectation
At least the hollow men
Stuffed with straws and petty blows
Had a space with which to be empty
Their petrified corpses litter the books
Mammoth mausoleums of man
Does the moon not pale at their description?
But these monuments are cold and skeletal
They do not burn with youthful fury
They do not wipe her tears
They do not whitewash her fears
And neither do I
Locked away in the isolation of my own discontent
The lighter flicks helplessly in hand
The bones of those hollow
will not catch
And on each side of my door
The other half shudders
Broken by the weight
Of lowered expectation
Dec 12, 2010
Dec 12, 2010 at 6:40 PM UTC
And it Was that The Holy Father created Man in his image with Adam
And as well it Was that Eve followed in the recurrent fathom.
So that balance was brought about to the world of men,
The Fallen, Son Of The Morning, leading them,
Sinned most grievously upon the Father Of The World,
That in the End, The Lord found something to be abhorred
Through many Ages and upon battlefields Heavenly and Demonic,
The Earth then found its paradise to become quite rotted,
The blood of the fallen Angelic creations
Stained so the ground, that interpretations
Failed to meet the descriptive magnitude,
To begin to scribe the crimson-red deluge.
-
What seemed to be Eternity had passed,
More than some, sick of fighting, took chance,
To live, to escape to the safety of Earth,
To baptize themselves in what once was paradise and birth,
God’s Angels and Lucifer’s commanders both
Fled to live with hope of peace and wroth
The beginnings of the end, without intent,
The destruction would result in the death of the children,
Created of Man, Angel, And Devil’s mixed seed,
The Nephilim created with all spliced genes,
Superior to Our Father’s first,
In strength, in mind, in spiritual girth,
Recorded Here are Scriptures of the last
God-like children from the past,
Describing their Parents in personal detail,
Shedding light then, on where modern day fails
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 5:37 PM UTC
you completely lost sight of what was sighted in for you
i know you're thinking of the target; your aim's just still not true
your rifle's steady, ready, but your hands are still too shaky
you let the hammer fall after you squeeze the trigger and i just let it be
but you weren't aiming for what i told you it was seasoned for
and you're still a little loose on gaining any floor
out here in this wild conundrum of life; living
out here dealing what's dealt; giving
out here completely oblivious; obviously
out here naked; grievously
godspeed my friend,
you'll need it as we're nearing this end.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 10:21 AM UTC
I grasped the sword
charged ahead at full speed
I don't know who will win
my opponent or me
we both trained for years
shared classes, friends even food
now our elders decided that our fates
shall lie within an age old contest,
out in the forest, we staged a duel.
I heard kunai hit the trunk behind me,
I instinctively turned around
dodged, parried, struck back as he aimed
to cut me to the ground
I struck back with two quick slices
aimed directly at the head,
we fought like dogs starved for days
like the moon struggling against the sunrise
I was grievously injured, but he couldn't win the fight.
I removed his head from his body
in one swift, fluid stroke
and then I awoke...
fighting my own brother
a nightmare that had been plaguing me for days, weeks on end.
why is it I keep on thinking, that maybe just maybe, it has roots in my past loves end?
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 7:33 PM UTC
I've committed an act so grievously wrong
Worst mistake of my life, I don't belong
Am feeling so morbidly ashamed
My heart and soul are forever maimed
My unrelenting conscience nagged at me
I will never again be truly free
The worst part of all is the hurt she must feel
Pain, indignation, disbelief are all real
I took her love as something due me
Took it for granted so unwisely
I have lost the best part of me
To never return, can clearly see
I'm sorry is such a pitiful phrase
Shame, guilt, self hatred and malaise
I have an ache in my soul for trespassing
I am just heart sick, it's all encompassing
I will never allow MYSELF to forgive
Not sure with theses feeling I can live
I cannot reverse the transgression
In my being I've embedded a lesson
Don't know what possessed me to break our bond
I plead for forgiveness, if she'll respond
I hope our love can withstand and is strong.
To forgive, not forget what she knew all along
Sep 24, 2013
Sep 24, 2013 at 6:44 AM UTC
*"I am my Beloved's
and my Beloved is mine."
Song of Songs 6:3*
I repent, my Beloved!
I sing you my song,
I've chased after idols
I've been grievously wrong!
You are my anchor
I'm weak, and You're strong.
I feel Your sorrow
I sense your great pain
I've chased all things golden
Again and again!
I need Your forgiveness
To remove my sin's stain.
I've tested your patience
I've wrestled with You
I've been furiously angry
Due to what I've been through
But You've been so faithful
You're tried and You're
TRUE
During this time
Of the Hebrew Elul
This time of repentance
This time of renewal
I give you my heart
And I give you my
SOUL
My dearly Beloved
My Lover, my Friend
My Bridegroom, My Brother,
This promise I send,
I will ever love you
World without end.
SøułSurvivør
(C) 9/9/2017
Sep 9, 2017
Sep 9, 2017 at 2:10 PM UTC
Once you've sat at Wisdom's feet
and heard her teach the Truth
Light's unbearable and dark
and Teachers most grievously painful
For there is no error in the plumb line
Any tilt and crookedness is exposed
Every hearts' wickedness and deceitfulness
cries out and stinks as dead men's sores
Aug 8, 2020
Aug 8, 2020 at 11:48 PM UTC
My heart I neglected
it was grievously hurt and turned away
it refused to talk to me
by night or by day
inconsolable
incessantly it wept
we didn't talk for years
as though our happy past had been swept
into the dark bottomless sea
I have lost my best friend
and it's too late for healing
I'll regret this until the end
of time---I was young and too arrogant
to give way to feelings-I knew no meekness
I prided on my strength and resolve
remorse has come too late--what is left now is but my sadness.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 7:26 AM UTC
Upon (die) re rhea ding previous poem
All In The Name Of "Progress" zen
a glaring, leering,
and twittering left par wren
dared to a right (i.e. bribe)
corrective punctuation measure
slyly slipping Special Ops symbol ")"
for so many yen,
thus see slipped thru my excellent
proof reading, when
lo and behold consternation,
inconsideration, and perturbation
I thought to take a page
from playbook of Sylvia Plath,
and stick my head in the oven
but lo, a sardine recipe
(though a bit fishy),
could be found necessitating cauldron
only available for purchase in Turin
thus donned with a shrouded cape,
aye didst make whoosh,
hence, went there and came back
and frankly tubby earnest,
thence began stir'n
a bubbling concoction brew
though duration for perfect consistency
aye lacked any clue
thus, needed to contact
Hannibal the cannibal
asper what to do
in order (I explained)
to sever livingsocial,
and forever hang my head in shame
cuz, accidentally omitting
one right parenthesis too few
hence, esteemed flawless glory,
(sans error free grammarian
reputation pitched downward
where careless evinced
Kamikaze nosedive, where
matter of fact gross humiliation
instantaneously grew
and the only viable option
forced me to hew
admitting to egregious, fatuous, abhorent
and readily confesses
compunction viz, grievously
blatant Anglo Saxon
Horrifying transgression
involving backward curved "C" sin bent
a most execrable,
incorrigible, and unforgivable
literary faux pas incurring
major cosmic event
stripped of title special
Das Scribe double bubble "A" gent!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Upon complying never to err again
Matthew Scott Harris since
accepted plea bargain
accepting sentence resting his chin
til indelible necklaced "U" lettered grin
forever visible to kith and kin.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
The benefactor of tragic reactions, he made his traction in disastrous scenes, collecting dreams in his sleeves, as he grievously releases them on the next victim.
Victims.
Aren't we all.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 12:38 AM UTC
the men I crave
speak blunt,
wanting me for
my poetry persona,
strength sheer as a cliff,
me to be their tour guide to the edge,
my sexuality unabashedly to be their owing
they speak plain,
believing directness
is an aphrodisiac for me,
my style, direct unvarnished,
so that must be whom I am, surely
but they err deep grievously
*I do love my poets so, the
ones, soft spoke, genteel, feeling
using first, no never, guile, words harmonizing,
softening the edges so smoothly rough necessary
for me to protect, confounding the harsh takers,
who never think to ask, never cradle, stroke,
don’t go below, see deeper that my nerves
are feminine, that pink is but a color,
that anyone could love, not an
invitation, a philosophy of
automatic surrender*
now you know why I write poems,
to understand better the heart human,
ferret out the chaff, the bad, for everyone else.
#brandychanning
Jul 30, 2020
Jul 30, 2020 at 5:42 PM UTC
Summer's breath
is a fetid breeze
that leaves me
sweating grievously.
Dull, repetitive driving,
heat draining
all my mental energy
like a seasonal vampire
leaving me uninspired.
Enter the earthy aroma
of someone new,
a refreshing spring water
point of view
a friendly face
with feminine contours.
Though *** is not what matters,
she is novelty
in the form
of a human being.
This thick stultifying summer
becomes less of a ******
with the introduction of new variables
that pull me from
my old terrifying echoes.
A stranger with
unknown stories
emboldens
the previously bored me
to write great poetry again.
Nov 7, 2018
Nov 7, 2018 at 8:29 AM UTC
~
*and, to the young,
it comes with bitterest agony,
because it takes them unawares.
The older have learned to ever expect it.”*
Abraham Lincoln
~~~
time is the seasoning spice,
rubbed into the unwanted go to hell gifted
cracks and crevices,
of aging,
ever deepening tracks of rusted orange paprika tears that are undepletable
experience, that cursed pretend friend,
has been-weathered worn upon our faces
you young think you have it all,
you cannot have my sorrows
though they come to
me well awares
undisguised in shiny silver sunlight and
full moon bright,
whipped, collected and freight-weighed by the poundage
the tears of surprise are no wetter than mine
and surely but half as bitter as mine
than have accumulated and aged and bred permanence cursed down upon my
grayed hairs
you weep grievously
throw your body twisted to the floor
then you realize mine
is already there -
a cushion for you
and hardwood
my pillow
you have hope of repair -
making surprises treatable, tenable
and tentative
perhaps your gasp
of shock
louder than my grasp
of yet another cut's meaning
but learning to expect it
neither lessens it or
ameliorates
you want proof?
look upon me, come look upon me or better yet
look upon the portraiture
of Abraham Lincoln
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 11:02 AM UTC
Dear Lord,
I beg thee to listen to me,
I bow down on bended knee,
and
I put my supplication to thee,
Oh Lord, I know I am falling apart,
All I want Lord is to happy again,
and smile once again,
I want you to forgive me,
for I know I grievously sinned against thee,
Help me to serve thee the way you
want me to serve thee, so I can be more
perfect like thee.
Oh Lord, I am falling apart,
Now pick me up and mold me,
Lead me back to where I can hear you
sacred word and take your body and blood
that will nourish me.
I know I am weak in the flesh and in the heart,
but I ask for thee forgiveness right from the start.
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 6:17 PM UTC
Golden droplets of the sea water
Mist my hands and hair with sighs
From mountains of flourishing splendor
Far away from battle-scarred grounds
Bring me to sea
Where all through the way
Fishes delight
And corals in sight
Catch up in time
To rest on the rails
Dissolving in thoughts
Of pleasures surrendered
Moving in lines
Choreographed by the wind
Sky-cloaked
And sun-soled
And fishermen’s nets
Living like creatures
Adorned by starfishes
Forgotten in time…
Just relying on compasses
To never get lost
You and I,
Our ships gliding
Through the night
Both never knowing
We’ve come face to face
Both of us longing
Tranquility’s strength
Lost in our own thoughts
Or company’s joy
Never alone and yet,
So alone……
Denied by the truth
In lands that we live
Grievously grieving
Though laughing in vain
Hiding, pretending
As masters behave
Only at sea
Do we begin to see
You were a lover
Who sailed through the seas
I am a dreamer
Who sees through the sail
Never together we were,
And never to be
Two fields divided
In two roads diverted
I’m strange to be longing
For someone not known
Strange that I ponder
What lies yonder
Thoughts of you
So clearly I see
Thoughts of the night
Then, your images flee
Only at sea
Do we really
Begin to see……..
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 11:17 PM UTC
i got lost
in the library
to think my time was wasted
or rather - borrowed
and left by the orphaned paperbacks
like the last dog remaining
at the rescue shelter.
i got stalked
in the library
to think i worried
about finding cover
when, in fact, i found thousands
and i hid behind them
skipping through
hospital wards
where the bereaved
wore glistening plot armour,
and American homes
where paternal affection
was grievously mistook
by European men
with lyrical prose
and when i emerged
found my bearings
set my feet
in the tar of reality
it did not treat me kindly
so, to the librarian:
if i disappear again
please assume i'm safe and sound
because if this is what being lost is like
i'd rather not be found.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 11:28 PM UTC
What once came
easily
has avoided me
recently
what came
seamlessly
now comes
infrequently
I fight for it
greedily
it passes me by
speedily
I play
strategically
I struggle
repeatedly
I take what comes
gleefully
It moves past,
teasingly
The absence hits me
grievously
I walk this line
treacherously
I cry out
needlessly
This seeped into my life
lethally
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 3:04 PM UTC