"hedonistic" poems
Picketed, another generation pushing for advancement in the age of reason,
Logical, radical movement
Trying for less invasive measures of medication
To take the blinders off the prejudice of non-conformity and reach the masses
A promise to ease the pain, promote healing, the overall good
Met with violence, verbal slander, from mommies and daddies afraid of a world outside their white fence,
Fearing independence, the expansion of the mind, an openness in their youth to allow radical change.
The bloated belt bent backwards, white collar replaced by hedonistic practical libertarians in pursuit of happiness for all
Sick, disgusted with the man, the one behind the podium whom allows for this animosity on a group that did everything right, legally sound
Tired of hearing the whispers across a university, the hopeful gushing’s of elated individuals bright- eyes naive
Of a system that won’t allow something this controversial into the public, afraid to lose their hold on a potential capitol
On something that should be as easy to find in a free market as Captain Crunch, Coca-Cola, and Rice Krispy Treats.
Grinding down, fluffy-green-crystal bud
Dank yellow smoke smoldering out of pipes end, seeping out of closed lips billowing out of nostrils
Dragon fire down a throat coated with a week worth of soot, and experience
Choking, coughing, laughing away the misery
The disappointment in her fellow man to refuse to even consider the validity of a proven product
Knowing that if it was anything else a miracle drug composed of fairy dust, unicorn hair and the ***** of a thousand angels; approval would have been immediate.
Whip lash.
Flick, flame, fumigating
Baking myself into a calmer state, watching with ****** off grace
Twitching with the need to take action
To control this negative reaction, to slap the of face limp **** conservatives
So consumed with themselves, blind to the pain of people who have lost hope in other forms of relief
Alternative therapy shut off by a system obsessed with its war on drugs.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC
let me equate my genitals
to a predatory animal
to illustrate my ****** prowess
and mating standards
in song:
my vampire squid don't
my vampire squid don't
my vampire squid don't want none
unless you got an anaconda ***
my disdain for your personality
and general mentality
is also strong, simply because:
i like *big ***** and i cannot lie
you other sisters can't deny
that when a boy walks in with a six pack
and a hose thing in your face
you get wet
disembodying objectification,
stereotypical representation,
hedonistic utilitarianism,
and *** ed with some rhyme:
black boy sippin' white wine
put my fist in him like a civil rights sign
then he came like aaaaah! (1)
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
We came,
like young infants
stumbling head-long into hedonistic existence
Feeling air beneath our feet in the weed-smelling rooms,
hiding behind cushions and blankets and exchanging knowing looks
on starry nights.
We ran,
down green hills on hot, sunny days
and burned our hands on shed roofs
and the ends of rolled cigarettes.
We drank,
berry cider in the dark,
dancing drunkenly outside bars,
sharing secrets behind closed doors
and open whiskey bottles.
We needed,
no one but each other
and each other's mothers -
Some opening their arms to us
to swaddle us like newborns,
Others dismissing us with a wave of a hand
We spent,
the last year of our school lives
immersed in each other,
some more than others.
We cried,
like shell-shocked soldiers
behind locked bedroom doors
and into smashed-up mobile phones.
We returned,
to those dark evenings,
to drink ***** on hilltops and smoke endlessly,
laughing at everything ******
We were glowing stars.
We loved,
and those immature jokes hit our shields
and not our bones.
And now our lives have changed
and all those heady evenings spent
hiding beer from Bulgarians
are behind us all.
We are alone,
in this world.
Some moreso than others,
But we are alive.
We are still us.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Forthcome that which has no meaning
beyond the petty dreamings of a fool.
Trickled thoughts walk off mid-conversation
with strangers into the vanishing
managing to forget that I forgot them first
way before they wandered off
to inhabit the earth
but that's just me being hipster,
rather be in Pittsburgh
because New York,
too contemporary.
Very hedonistic with a lack of trajectory
or am I projecting to protect me
from an existential vasectomy.
Maybe
I'm afraid I can't make it here
Maybe
I think I drink too much beer
and Baby
I should have been more clear
I am scared
I am scared
I am scared of being a failure
and I don't even know
what the **** failure is
or what one even looks like
because every time I think I've met one
they've taught me something about my life
half the the high school teachers
across this country couldn't.
My home
has taken their lives,
my passion and my poisons
have made it hard to get by
and my parents
have worked and will mostly likely die
holding on to concept I now perceive as a lie
That's why I so badly wanna believe in nothing
but I keep falling head over heels
cartoon like slips on banana peels
Women; smart enough
to know a poet is a bad deal
but I still do it 3, 4 times a day
I let someone inside
and we'll make love
with words and thoughts
we'll tell each other what we dream of
and talk about the kinds of things
that can't be bought
cause those are the things that matter
at least to me.
But I guess
that's just me
being hipster
again.
Nov 2, 2013
Nov 2, 2013 at 1:19 PM UTC
(Inspired by article below)
I.
Continuity
your filibuster egg of sand
dazzled curiosity
with creaky shell of hints
heaped upon the tedium
of knowledge's unfurl undeterred
by encyclopedic impatience
Assurances of rip(Van Winkl)ed
economics shooed paper strings of
revelation like anarchy-powered
taxes summoning a foreword
to anachronistic campaigns
of environmental friendliness
II.
Meanwhile years
have been filed down to flashes of
chronology for continuity's organic rebus
However long it took
the economic karma to fall into the
abodes of hedonistic pharaohs
it was instant
Skin that ruled behind the constitution
of allergic breath
bailed on the bones against their most
sublime intentions
Limbo-treading landlords
huddled in their mummified freeze
after breadline bashers scolded them
with the spoils of a new brand
of pyramid scheming
Robbers of the coffin palaces
stole the intimations of identity
theft from today
Immortality and freedom
were compelled to share a meaning
like estranged siblings
or bound dynasties
I(a).
Abydos
how you coyly toyed with us
with a diversion bordering on monolithic
04 23 14
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
I have never been sophisticated
sophistication just never related
relative to everything i hated
hatred of the over-stated
i have never been materialistic
materialism isnt a characteristic
characterized by a mind that's realistic
realize i am not hedonistic
i never gave a **** about tradition
traditional is subject to my definition
defined by my own composition
composed of passion and ambition
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
Confessions of a Blessed Hedonist.( tri word line)
-1- -3-
Lived this long, what makes change?
Time just flew, a metamorphosis divine?
Mind playing games worms to butterflies,
Heart desiring ever. saviors, angels, messiahs?
extreme cravings doused. what makes humane,
opiates in zillions, friends, lovers, brothers?
Cocktails, a million. Destinies unknown working,
Endless revelries futile, in times unconscious,
Loves instant, genuine. drunken slumbers dead,
Clean beds crumpled, uncaring deeds cruel,
Checkouts late rewarded. Unmanly acts shameful.
-2- -4-
Friends dear betrayed, maybe one dream,
Away bartered loves. among nightmares plenty,
Much monies made, that one love-germ,
Abandoned ethics many. under in-differences heaped,
Gods all rejected, faint glimmering self,
Except the Hedonistic! beneath mountainous egos,
World enjoyed fully, a sparkling life-sign,
Life wasted lovely. in cemeteries silent.
Morphing every second, causes matter not,
Into grandiose nothing, by destiny’s graces,
Skeleton cynical final. gratefully unscathed still.
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 12:42 AM UTC
Why the ****
is seemingly everyone
so ******* slutty?
What the **** happened
to maintenance
of Integrity?
******
for the right words
or for the right look
or the right price
or the right Music
or the *right *****
the most important motivation to many
seems to be *Instant ******* Gratification*:
Please.
Such folly is childish:
Males and Females alike
seem to be equally Hedonistic
and selfishly manipulative:
What dissolute, reckless, selfish
Depravity of Sanctity
hath seized our Minds
with such wrathful, gluttonous, vain, lustful, and self-destructive
Epicureanism?
It seems to me
a Mind of Displeasure
recklessly seeks Indulgence,
and thus encounters overindulgence,
which then leads to overstimulation,
which in turn leads to depreciation,
which then manifests itself
as Debauchery.
Reputation
precedes you;
it follows you
as your social Wake;
Reputation
is the Name
for the Ripples
cast by One's actions;
Sometimes it is mere gossip,
rooted in vile, childish Spite;
but most times,
it seems karmic as ****
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
she is a rendering in darker inks of lighthearted subjects
the eloquently illustrated surrealistic seduction of the heart
demure yet ravishing sexualization
the ideal of beauty offering itself up like a sacrifice
at the alter of some wanton hedonistic temple to gods of lust
she looks up at me from her practiced good girl gone naughty dream
and tells me that she wants me
wants it all to be perfect
like in the paris magazines
wants it all to be crafted in perfumed perfection
near to goddess as human can be
she is rendered in darker inks
but i am captivated by the lovely
entranced by the beautiful
enraptured by the perfection
as only darker inks can be
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 12:15 PM UTC
Attention apprehensive affliction
Becoming begging believing (in)
Chaotic collapses creations
Demanding demolition degeneration (and)
Epic enlightened endings,
Fake fantastic flows (and)
Greater glamour gore (inside)
Hedonistic homemaker hope
Indicating irrational inspiration
Joyful jittering jugs (but)
Knowledge keeping knees
Letting lovers lose (still)
Meaning maybe more (a)
Notice nothing nepotism
Opportunity oppression ordered
Popular pages prohibited
Qua quantum quivers
Revolving random rallies
Sadly still suffocating
Toxic tension talking
Until unique universal
Virtual vanity villains
Wanton winning waves
***
Yes! You yield
Zap, zing, zoom!
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
here is something that
mother told me
about god complexes:
“everyone believes themselves
to be gods among men:
even that hideous monster from your
half-remembered Hellenistic dreams
will retreat back to
his craggy hideaway and continue
with his hedonistic ways.
the poor creature:
he will don a halo,
iconize himself in caricatures
pretending that if for a moment
his veins flow ichorous that
Icarus may have envied when his wings
beat in tandem with the footfalls of
the sun chariots’ horses.
“the sun shines upon
hallowed ground, though Polyphemus
will avoid Helios’s scornful gaze.
he herds sheep––his only acolytes––
an unabashed king in his realm,
like a god plays war, or as a child
would play house,
humming hallelujah,
veins running gold-blooded.
when moon rises,
he will hang his weary
shadow at his door and retreat
to his fire-pit. perhaps this will be
the closest he will be to the gods,
basking in the heat of Hestia’s
humble hearth.
“in the end,” mother said,
“Nobody will end up deified.
Icarus may have rained down wax and
feathers in godlike fury
before tilting his head to Helios once more;
Polyphemus waded into the sea,
eyes clouded in godlike fury
before resigning himself to fate, head bowed.”
Oct 16, 2016
Oct 16, 2016 at 12:24 PM UTC
The words are my paint
My brain is the canvas
If you searched inside
You wouldn't be able to handle it
Dark subject matter
Gore and lust
Feelings of anxiety, Scared to trust
Hurt before, hurt me no more
My brain is riddled with you
I can't betray
Never untrue
It's a blast from the past
When I see your ***
It reminds me I'm sexually charged
I can't control the demons I pull
When I see your body unclothed
Anger,retreat and the feeling of defeat
When I know I'm not alone
Wasting away , wasting a day
Talking to you on the phone
You asked me my size and to my surprise
You said I was full of ****
I told you its true
and I promised it too
and 3 days later I was filling up you.
Dress to impress me darling
My impressions are the world
Sprawled out on my bedspread
Letting your dress be unfurled
Honey, I've seen you naked
But I've never seen you like this before
An after effect , I must be direct
Cut to the chase, your no disgrace
Your moister then a florida day
I've never seen you act this way
Hedonistic views,blaming it on you
Cut to the chase, your no disgrace
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 2:15 AM UTC
Don't tell me to smile
Exhortations to "cheer up" will be ignored
You don't know how far you're stretching me, do you?
Your head still in the clouds of safety where imbeciles call out to each other
Listen. Listen, do
We're exploring the heaviest things in the world
Too heavy for Sysyphyus to haul
I'm that kid you can kind of see through
The one on the left corner
With the cool bootleg Pink Floyd t shirt wrapping his thin torso
He's got a box of Playboys beneath his nightstand and he's barely 14 years old
He reads and incorporates that garbage into his pre-adolescence behavior
With dreams of visiting Plato's
Retreat
Picking up some bunnies using some of the better Party Jokes
His expertise at 'lingus and 'latio are as well perfected as can be without having actually performed them
But he could sure bust out the ******* Philosophy and would have held his own with the old geezer who wrote it
But he was only 14 and nobody seemed impressed with the amount of ******* culture he'd consumed
They weren't letting him in the cluuuub
Your ****** right he didn't feel like smiling
But he wasn't bored
And he didn't feel too serious
He'd let it slide this time
*to be continued
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:41 AM UTC
trying not to be subversive
but all I can think about is how those curves bend
feeling hedonistic
Hippie aesthetic contrasting my forlorned apathetic
visage
You've got me pleasure-seeking
Ostentatious displays of intellect
But im feeling decadent
Lay a kiss on my cheek
Soothing lips like lavender and peppermint
Jun 16, 2019
Jun 16, 2019 at 4:39 PM UTC
i have never been sophisticated
sophistication just never related
relative to everything i hated
hatred of the over-stated
i have never been materialistic
materialism isn't a characteristic
characterized by a mind that's realistic
realize, i am not hedonistic
i never gave a **** about tradition
traditional is subject to my definition
defined by my own composition
composed of passion and ambition
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
I can still feel your touch
Your kisses
You......
You play my body to
A perfect consonance
Harmoniously plucking chord sequences out along my shape
Sweet music singing through my conscious as you take me on this mystical journey
Exploring my form with practiced artistry
Softly strumming my senses into an allegro of exaltation
A hedonistic fusion of bass notes felt deep inside, pulsing, stroking, pushing me towards a sublime cadence
Quietly holding me in adagio while
A delicate symphony plays within my skin
(C) Pixievic
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 11:39 AM UTC
Face me...fixedly eye to eye, four hands intertwined in infinite reciprocation, articulating...
Osculate my mind with your intellectual parlance, ardently and with hedonistic electricity arousing my neurons, titillating my synapses, sending lustful charge down my nerves.
I crave to feel your utterances surge through me, course throughout every bifurcation, and transude from every last pore of my flesh.
Grasp my heart with your loquacity, embracing so passionately, that our beats become one resonating cadence whilst exchanging harmonious rhythm.
Caress my flesh with cognital poetry woven from emotions existent only to us.
Trace my veins with every word born from pain, contentment, angst and tranquility... pressing their vehemence into my bloodstream, surrendering my pulses to ******
I yearn to listen to you make me moan, as I arch my back, tilt my head and release in silent screaming ecstasy... sating you with visual affirmation of our sapiosexual affair.
Jun 27, 2015
Jun 27, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
Don't try to move
Just Be still
You must prove
It"s your will
Just be,
Quietly
Silently
Chill
No technology
No phones
No emails
No fax
Mythology
Bones
Trails
Relax
Thoughts flow through my head
like streams upon the riverbed
Constantly haunting me
Is it a plague or am I free
Wondering what it is I truly do seek
On this Hedonistic journey for pleasure
Once I finally reach the highest peak
Will I even care if there isn't any treasure
And even if there was, how much is really ever enough?
No matter how much was there I would still feel rough
The journey is over, but at least you can buy more stuff
Many toys to play with but your hands are tightly cuffed
Look a brand new thing to crave
How much money did you save?
I"ll take that secret to my grave
As a true consumer ridden slave
Everyone wants what they just can't have
Eyeing your neighbor"s prize like a vulture
Euphemise it veal instead of saying calve
Euthanized a deal, our throw away culture
I want more more more, that's mine not yours
So blessed to have our choice of each amenity
We"ve bore ourselves into consumer ******
So stressed when all we should seek is serenity
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC
Antagonism
burgeons back bad blood.
Compatriots, courtesy can cool contentions:
doubly, disrespect demands decisive
execution. Early efforts evolved
fatuously, force facilitated farcical fighting.
Gambling gents gleefully gored
hedonistic harlots. Harassing
ignorantly, igniting
jealously,
killings
listlessly- liars lament
momentarily. Meanwhile, monetary
nuances
of opulence obscure
prime problems.
Quarries quake
running red. Remembering
solitarily- stoic steeds stand silent, sending
thoughts,
unbidden, unbeknownst.
Violence:
we were
xanthic,
yellow years yaw…
Zymotic.
Jun 22, 2013
Jun 22, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Maybe one day I will find out
what it means to love
I know what lust is
lust is long dark hair
lust is a firm body
an ecstatic giggle
in the dark
lust is a long touch
in a crowded room
lust is a carnal and wholly animal thing
that occurs when eyes meet
in a terrible exchange
of hedonistic intentions
lust is sugar and snails
and a happy puppy wagging his tail
lust is two bodies
sweating together
in the heat of passion
moaning
writhing squirming scratching
biting
pushing, for the polar opposites of torture
perhaps one day I will learn to love
unconditionally till death
but i think lust is
good, too
Aug 10, 2010
Aug 10, 2010 at 5:06 PM UTC
take me to PuNe baby
or I'll take you
in the back of my self-induced
naked hallucinations
as words *****
themselves from my gut
too impertinent to do
drugs
solely high off of your jargon
you don't know how
bold
I am
stardust
sugar and spice and everything nice
covered in salt
dripping tar black salt
just like you
hedonistic
all humans hedonistic
but this is my joie de vivre
pUnE baby
race me to the finish line
pisces and scorpio
bleeding atmospheres
between them
maybe my skin is
too salty black tar
for sweet tongues
but you forget
I am relentless
relentless
and will not allow
a consignation to oblivion
I'll be in PuNe
relentless
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 10:45 PM UTC
I've been still,
Caught in a sweet stasis,
Buried under the same, baseless
Candied gags, slippery hags, body bags ー
But I can't go back.
Haven't moved forward either,
So I still sit silent here.
Maybe I'll someday wither ー
Like dandelions as they scatter in the wind,
I will feel no more the weight of societal sins.
Staying awake in anticipation;
That feeling you get when you see a road blocked
and a wrecked car hoping it was an accident
Eventful; excitement to see that tar black
Crimson on tarmac
and those trampled, broken-pretty shells ー
I want to be a doll.
A pretty hollow pale porcelain
you still can't hurt when I slip through your hands,
Or when you let go and drop me,
Or smash me into the ground ー
It's all the same, isn't it?
You buy, bore, break, blame, build, rebuild
Rebreak, reblame, replace...
I remake real-fake love into stanza-sized stories
Just to rebrand them as poetry;
A molded part to inspire some abstract art.
They're better off that way,
Locked in and stationary;
Sweet standstill sanctuary.
And I'll stay to watch their models fail and break,
As they too, disintegrate ー fellow ******* degenerates
This time I was at your disposal,
But we're all just glorified disposables ー
Ever-hungry, hedonistic at heart.
Feb 25, 2019
Feb 25, 2019 at 8:46 AM UTC
she is a rendering in darker inks of lighthearted subjects
the eloquently illustrated surrealistic seduction of the heart
demure yet ravishing sexualization
the ideal of beauty offering itself up like a sacrifice
at the alter of some wanton hedonistic temple to gods of lust
she looks up at me from her practiced good girl gone naughty dream
and tells me that she wants me
wants it all to be perfect
like in the paris magazines
wants it all to be crafted in perfumed perfection
near to goddess as human can be
she is rendered in darker inks
but i am captivated by the lovely
entranced by the beautiful
enraptured by the perfection
as only darker inks can be
Dec 4, 2014
Dec 4, 2014 at 3:18 PM UTC