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"heinously" poems
And after knowing you for only a few weeks, we knitted our failures into a heinously tacky quilt. It scratched against our bare skin when we spent the night making love underneath it and kept us warm when we went outside to puff away the day's disappointments. The quilt got bigger everyday because you and I stopped caring about anything that was not each other. You, swallowed up by a sea of shortcomings and I, mummified by a warmth that blinded us from reality, became strangers. Now you are just a patch in the new quilt I am creating from battle wounds. It is thick and vibrant, even more coarse than the last. Underneath it, no one can touch me but myself.
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Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 2:36 PM UTC
The Quilt
Suddenly seeing everything wrong I have done. Ignoring everything, I expel heinously Bright Goldfish all over my Hideous white Walls.
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Jun 21, 2012
Jun 21, 2012 at 2:44 PM UTC
Tequila
One of the most humorous conditions that a creature could burden itself with is a somnambulant desire to be to it’s own liking . Maxillary extrapolation although a positive political expectorant is likewise a practical partiality . I prefer to  be philanthropically phenological although rational impedance is my histophysiology .  My present participle is practical pragmatism and tertiary transcendentalism .  Xenoplasticly speaking I feel alone but plausibility is a probationer in reflective self awareness .  Atrociously impetuous I proceeded amidst heinously horrendous heckledom .  Adequate inflection is a relevant relative to retaliatory regression but I digress .  Paraphernalia is a practitioner to plausibility’s cause and should be assimilated through cognizance  not perfunctory preferentialism . Hegelian humanitarianism must supersede political subterfugalism or all may be lost in quagmire .
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Jul 24, 2014
Jul 24, 2014 at 3:48 AM UTC
Paraphernalia
Clearly observing the wicked danger lurking within you… What a paradox to witness a change of benevolence ridiculed by your truth. If only you understood what it takes to genuinely smile, You could move mountains across those magnificent cerulean skies. Even after our unpleasant confrontations, so cruel and wry. You deliberately chose to dance around to a distinctive rhyme. Using your words of trickery, resembling a serpent hissing fear. You untiringly strived to strike fatal arrows through an artificial crack on my fortified shield. I gave you only one chance to earn my professional trust. Then you destroyed it with mendacities absconding from your Machiavellian filthy mouth. Candidly, after foreseeing your vile pestilence emerging from within. I erupted in an outburst of laughter to have ever believed in your skin of sin. Beware, you have revealed an irrevocable glitch that is deceitfully sly. It portrays tyranny and narrow mindedness, depreciating with every malicious try. Running cunningly through your veins oozing massive animosity in disguise. Have you not scrutinized the gruesome language intensely stimulated from your heinously gazing eyes? By: Michael M. De La Fuente
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Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
Envisaged Impression
As fishes wriggling The entirety of their slippery bodies In vast oceans, lost in the glory of waters Instincts meander Their way through to the mind In a pool of imagined Sensuality with wanton desires A longing for the temporal Poignantly stands ***** In the throne-room of man's emotions Motioning with a seemingly motionless demeanor Unfulfilled cravings Cradles persistence In his goal oriented pursuits Thoughts are repressed Mental imageries suppressed To pave way for ********** Of pleasantly positive feelings Yet the uncouth lingers Occasionally engages the enthroned In scrimmages in their bid to dethrone them Man holds the prerogative To serve either of them willingly Equally, man possess all it takes to be Heinously hedonistic And heartily attractive in personality To please society None can reach complete perfection At both extremities © Seth Boss Kay @ 19/10/2013
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Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 2:10 AM UTC
IMMINENT SENTIMENTS
She is my helen of troy I fall to the dirt To thank the gods Perseus turns green with envy Hades scouls heinously Jupiter & Posiden both conspire meticulously Yours truly just maintains a grin that extends from ear to ear
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Dec 15, 2013
Dec 15, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
Stories & Statements #74 (Her)
Man can be a wonderful priest Or he may turn into a cruel beast It depends on his chosen feast He crucified even Jesus Christ Sometimes he thinks like a god At times he becomes the greatest fraud He may be the lord on earth But he will never escape from his death He miraculously entered space But he kills most heinously his own race Shakespeare adored man for his grace Even the minutest bacteria he can trace Man always suffer from his original sin He often thinks of his kith and kin He might have reached the moon Even may get to the unreachable sun soon He will never conquer nature And know about his own future He should  know God’s ever lasting feature And have unshakable faith in His  delightful stature
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Feb 26, 2011
Feb 26, 2011 at 10:21 PM UTC
BEAST AND PRIEST
We were thirteen and perfect for each other. We had the same sense of humor and only survived those heinously awkward pre-teen parties by laughing at jokes that no one else understood. We used to play-fight like siblings and run after each other tossing synthetic threats back and forth. I was faster than him, though he wouldn’t say so, and would catch him often - but he always surrendered nicely with a sweet little kiss.     At that time we were young, inexperienced and painfully shy, so our kisses were commonly swift and polite – never anything Nicholas Sparks would appreciate – but there was something about those contemporary-type kisses that stirred something inside my child’s consciousness. Our lips caused ripples in my belly that tempted me to believe that perhaps this was more than just a tweeny courtship. A fair amount of months passed before her eventually kicked me off the wagon. Prep school was over and we were off to high school – him to a private boarding school and me to a public school the soccer moms “would rather not talk about.” I was devastated and have yet to open myself up to anyone like I did to him. You see, I had broken off such a large piece of my figurative heart that I didn’t have enough left to share with anyone else. Now I’ve a high school’s worth of non-existent Valentines roses and I've yet to leave the faetal position. I've been talking about it for so long that my pool of friends there to console me has shriveled up into an unhealthy puddle of nothing. Hell, I’ve drank up so much of that resource that I may have left a dent where it used to stand. Picture me sniffing around a dried up pile of nothing fruitlessly looking for someone to tell my sob-story to – it's not far off. Now here’s the gold; I suppose I had set my standards so high that I’ve not let anyone else so much as see the bar let alone challenge it. That or my first boyfriend was so utterly terrified by my company that he wrote an article about me in the Guy Code and I now walk around with a blinking sign on my forehead. Either way, I’m as lonely as anything and have reached the point where I think of fictional characters as more actual than many of my fellow humans. Tumblr help me.
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Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Timing’s important.
We were thirteen and perfect for each other. We had the same sense of humor and only survived those heinously awkward pre-teen parties by laughing at jokes that no one else understood. We used to play-fight like siblings and run after each other tossing synthetic threats back and forth. I was faster than him, though he wouldn’t say so, and would catch him often - but he always surrendered nicely with a sweet little kiss.     At that time we were young, inexperienced and painfully shy, so our kisses were commonly swift and polite – never anything Nicholas Sparks would appreciate – but there was something about those contemporary-type kisses that stirred something inside my child’s consciousness. Our lips caused ripples in my belly that tempted me to believe that perhaps this was more than just a tweeny courtship. A fair amount of months passed before her eventually kicked me off the wagon. Prep school was over and we were off to high school – him to a private boarding school and me to a public school the soccer moms “would rather not talk about.” I was devastated and have yet to open myself up to anyone like I did to him. You see, I had broken off such a large piece of my figurative heart that I didn’t have enough left to share with anyone else. Now I’ve a high school’s worth of non-existent Valentines roses and I've yet to leave the faetal position. I've been talking about it for so long that my pool of friends there to console me has shriveled up into an unhealthy puddle of nothing. Hell, I’ve drank up so much of that resource that I may have left a dent where it used to stand. Picture me sniffing around a dried up pile of nothing fruitlessly looking for someone to tell my sob-story to – it's not far off. Now here’s the gold; I suppose I had set my standards so high that I’ve not let anyone else so much as see the bar let alone challenge it. That or my first boyfriend was so utterly terrified by my company that he wrote an article about me in the Guy Code and I now walk around with a blinking sign on my forehead. Either way, I’m as lonely as anything and have reached the point where I think of fictional characters as more actual than many of my fellow humans. Tumblr help me.
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Alexander K Opicho (Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected]) Let me take my poetry to the bottom of African latrine As clearly directed by my colonial master, After he read and failed to sing my poem Which I wrote and troubdoured on the digital platform, Of social poem hunters dot commercial My poem’s title was; ode to the heart of the racist, Which I sang as a melody of an anti racist Singing to echo the rights of humanity, Beyond the skinflint castle of the skin Without charm to offend any specific race, But a special dedication to the people living in Diaspora. My dear reader from anonymous country Neither England nor America of Canada, Read my poetry in feat of amok seizure With strong spasm to lynch an African poet, His civilized comment was worst case of universal ignorance That crystallized into arsenal to condemn my poem By desperately demanding that I take my mauverick poem To the stark depth of fresh African latrine, His civilization left me bamboozled to my possible hilt; As his ghastly condemnation sent me to deep frenzy of wonderment; Why a civilized comment must be abusive Why anti racism poetry must be ghastly condemned Why songs of racial freedom should be heinously decimated Why songs of home nostalgia In the bigotry ridden Diaspora abodes Must be taken to the bottom of African latrine? I beg your pardon my dear master, Allow me to take my poetry To the top surface of a white latrine.
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Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 12:55 PM UTC
TAKING MY POETRY TO THE BOTTOM OF AFRICAN LATRINE
Cataclysmically holocaustal catastrophic cacophony.  Spurious staunch succinct stymie tacit, irate tirade treatise vehement escapade tedium.  Belligerent barbarian of a berserker bodacious katzenjammer.  Ostensibly deterrent savage vicious violence.  Ghastly gruesome grotesque gristly groaty gnarly, awfully terrible hideously horrible heinously horrendous.  Inundate liable culprit, assay relay's convey, inveigh irrefragably inevitable inure.  Tercel theocracy, anticipate angary amentia.  Attenuating arbitration accidence ambiance acoustics.  Diction's enunciation execrating eventuation evocative expletives.  Reconnaissance reconnoiter rectilinear recrimination.  Incessant barratry Bailiff's rake-ness rails.  Détente, demarcate delirious destitute demiurge.  Diabolically maniacal dementia brusque macabre abrupt, annex annul's edifice ******** Spiritual apercu pneuma's palatial estates!!!!
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Oct 10, 2022
Oct 10, 2022 at 3:16 PM UTC
Catatonic Phonics
There is nothing, I should say, More insane than the Writer. For who should be more In love with the written word Than a person Who gives up meals And social Events To indulge in the Sacred, Pressing, Most heinously addicting, Act of writing ones thoughts Down, permanently, For generations to read Long after it makes since, If it ever Really Did?
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Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 9:55 AM UTC
Writer's Mentality
I hate nightmares. The eyelids set the perfect backdrop for those heinously colorful, all-encompassing scenes of dread, of heartbreak, anger, pain. Only released from their iron grip by the sound of fear escaping from sleep-parted lips. To feel cold sweat beading between tired chest bones pooling in the valleys of your clavicle. To bolt upright, screaming helplessly at the nightshade phantoms still lingering in the dusty corners of your vision. To wake up alone, craving anyone (or anything) that can hush your trembling body and tell you you’re alright, you’re alright, you’re alright.
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Jun 14, 2011
Jun 14, 2011 at 5:41 PM UTC
two a.m.
' I woke. I slept. I dreamt of nothing. Stars littered the sky as I rose. The moon poised it’s deep, sorrow face. Over the valleys a hungry wolf howled melancholy with the sad moon. “Why are we so alone, in a world of encumberance?” The wolf asked of the moon. The moon just wallowed, and did not speak, the moon never did. The wolf languished near the stream, cautiously perking up at the sounds coming from the dark wood behind. Hope was far from the wolf’s weighted mind. His life had been filled with loneliness. Raised from birth by the Earth alone, none other called him as their own. He hunted alone, he ate alone, he slept alone, and he was doomed to die alone as all others. Deep in the dark wood, a pack of ferocity lingered in the shadows, prowling on the lone wolf. The black horror claimed this land as his own, and he allowed no trespassers. His pack was equally relentless, and they would spill the blood of all who opposed this challenge. The wolf continued to howl, prickles of black fur sprang up on his neck as the scent of a foe approached. The pack moved in on him, six snarling snouts, and twelve yellow eyes gleamed at him. They were hungry. We’re all hungry. We’re all starving. The moon watched unflinchingly, as the water ran red past the bellowing frogs, chirping crickets, the oaks branches that sunk low into the river, casting swaying shadows from the heavy moon. He watched with his same sad face, how can anything constantly watching us ever have another emotion? The wolf lay, mangled and torn. The others attacked him in a contempt savagery, hunger tearing at their shallow bellies. Spasms of fleeting feeling went through the wolf, the whites and greys of his once illecebrous and divine fur, now soaked with his own blood. His tongue lolled out of his snout, and his teeth were all shattered. He hadn’t put up a fight. The pack shredded him. The black wolf treated all outside wolves as threats. He had no interest of letting a stray wolf get into his pack and challenge his authority. So he killed, before he was challenged. It seemed ideal to him, and his pack was fed joyously. They licked their chops, grinned like a hyena, and barked laughter all at another, while the great black wolf, looked to the moon, and howled heinously in it’s direction. The dark moon watches from above So sad at what he must see The good sun wished with him To disperse light over the seas They wept and cried laughed; and died The light was put in place Dark doesn’t surrender to grace
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Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
Moonlight Wolves Dance
' I woke. I slept. I dreamt of nothing. Stars littered the sky as I rose. The moon poised it’s deep, sorrow face. Over the valleys a hungry wolf howled melancholy with the sad moon. “Why are we so alone, in a world of encumberance?” The wolf asked of the moon. The moon just wallowed, and did not speak, the moon never did. The wolf languished near the stream, cautiously perking up at the sounds coming from the dark wood behind. Hope was far from the wolf’s weighted mind. His life had been filled with loneliness. Raised from birth by the Earth alone, none other called him as their own. He hunted alone, he ate alone, he slept alone, and he was doomed to die alone as all others. Deep in the dark wood, a pack of ferocity lingered in the shadows, prowling on the lone wolf. The black horror claimed this land as his own, and he allowed no trespassers. His pack was equally relentless, and they would spill the blood of all who opposed this challenge. The wolf continued to howl, prickles of black fur sprang up on his neck as the scent of a foe approached. The pack moved in on him, six snarling snouts, and twelve yellow eyes gleamed at him. They were hungry. We’re all hungry. We’re all starving. The moon watched unflinchingly, as the water ran red past the bellowing frogs, chirping crickets, the oaks branches that sunk low into the river, casting swaying shadows from the heavy moon. He watched with his same sad face, how can anything constantly watching us ever have another emotion? The wolf lay, mangled and torn. The others attacked him in a contempt savagery, hunger tearing at their shallow bellies. Spasms of fleeting feeling went through the wolf, the whites and greys of his once illecebrous and divine fur, now soaked with his own blood. His tongue lolled out of his snout, and his teeth were all shattered. He hadn’t put up a fight. The pack shredded him. The black wolf treated all outside wolves as threats. He had no interest of letting a stray wolf get into his pack and challenge his authority. So he killed, before he was challenged. It seemed ideal to him, and his pack was fed joyously. They licked their chops, grinned like a hyena, and barked laughter all at another, while the great black wolf, looked to the moon, and howled heinously in it’s direction. The dark moon watches from above So sad at what he must see The good sun wished with him To disperse light over the seas They wept and cried laughed; and died The light was put in place Dark doesn’t surrender to grace
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Heinous Act A knife, gun, two men and murderous intentions People standing helpless, a terror-stricken mounting tension. A young man's life is heinously taken, Never again to awaken. As the victim's blood leaches through the murderer's fingers. Confused, people in the street overcome their fears. A mother, wife and family weep heartbreaking tears. They'll not be alone, the whole Nation will cry - not water drops, No, we will unite and sob a wave of acid etching drops We'll burn the murderous hands that sullied this bold Soldier's precious blood. We, at the very least, can purify it again in the tearful flood. Kris Prevel 22.05.13
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Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 5:38 PM UTC
Heinous Act
I long for the sleep I am so heinously denied, the subtle and sinking embrace of true rest. The never-ending expanse of ebony satin, staining the existence on the back of my eyelids. I long not for a brief escape, but an eternal one. I chase the fleeting feeling of nonexistence that plagues my conscious mind, deriving from my small excursions into the nocturnal haven called sleep. I am weighed down, neigh drowned by my need to relentlessly pursue this venture. Yet, I feel it is an empty venture all the same.
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Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
Sleep
i can feel the weight, on my tongue - of a heart so heavy, and a mind so young; i cannot say - why i went this way; i do not know, how to get off the causeway: on one end, there’re facts; though verified, and true - on the other end, lie feelings, i never really knew - i had buried so deep, i failed to see them through; the facts - do not change, but the feelings - they do. i promised not to rely too much on one way, or the other; now i’m stuck, biding my time, reflecting on shallow waters: i look, long and hard, and see - the feelings start to resurface; but in fact, i see - a herring’s carcass - floating - so still, and perfect. a shadow streaks across my face - i brace myself for, just in case - i feel it looming - heinously close; in fact, it’s an eagle; i step aside - clear the way:   the eagle tucks its wings for a nosedive; it wants the herring - dead or alive: it takes what it wants, leaves nothing behind - neither facts, nor feelings; only ripples of lies.
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Dec 26, 2024
Dec 26, 2024 at 2:50 AM UTC
the causeway
transmitted ****** talks (partially presented pablum pertaining particularly - president ***** (PAC - ******* action *** mitt tee) portfolio ******* philandering) baneful boorish boastful bullheaded Brobdingnagian beastie boy balks. conspicuously cavalierly crudely curtly cavorts, capitulating, claiming, championing crying chauvinistic concupiscence, ****** cupidity caul king crooked cowboy cakewalks. Donald daringly, dastardly, defiantly, demonstrably, deplorably, deprecatingly, devilishly, divinely dumbfounded, duplicitously desultory, debauched, duckwalks. eccentric effrontery, egregiously enervating, excitedly exculpatory, extremely evil eyestalk. "fake," faultily fervently fiendishly flagrant fool, frightful. gaffe galling, gamesome gawker, generating gerrymandering. harboring hectoring heinously hellishly hideously horrendously horrible hulk. ignominious illicit ilk, imbecilic immodest immoral impetuous, impishly impudent, incarcerate, incinerate indecently, indecorous, iniquitous, intently intolerant, irascible irksome, itching ii incite iv iiiiii ix *********** izards. jowly ******* jackdaw jackknifing jaywalking jumping **** jilting jinn. knowingly keeping kryptonite, ***** Kardashian kvetches, kris kringle ken kool, kissing kitty, kosher kumquats kippered, k-nine kooky korps, kowtowing ku klux **** kinsfolk. legal leafstalk lawlessly locked, lacerated, lambasted, languished lost lively lust, limped, legal levity limited. menfolk made macho mission. many moons monthly mandate marked maybe mars, mercurial maladroit monkey manumission modified modus mystifying maze moonwalk.
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Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
traduce tis trademark Trump's traitorous...
transmitted ****** talks (partially presented pablum pertaining particularly - president ***** (PAC - ******* action *** mitt tee) portfolio ******* philandering) baneful boorish boastful bullheaded Brobdingnagian beastie boy balks. conspicuously cavalierly crudely curtly cavorts, capitulating, claiming, championing crying chauvinistic concupiscence, ****** cupidity caul king crooked cowboy cakewalks. Donald daringly, dastardly, defiantly, demonstrably, deplorably, deprecatingly, devilishly, divinely dumbfounded, duplicitously desultory, debauched, duckwalks. eccentric effrontery, egregiously enervating, excitedly exculpatory, extremely evil eyestalk. "fake," faultily fervently fiendishly flagrant fool, frightful. gaffe galling, gamesome gawker, generating gerrymandering. harboring hectoring heinously hellishly hideously horrendously horrible hulk. ignominious illicit ilk, imbecilic immodest immoral impetuous, impishly impudent, incarcerate, incinerate indecently, indecorous, iniquitous, intently intolerant, irascible irksome, itching ii incite iv iiiiii ix *********** izards. jowly ******* jackdaw jackknifing jaywalking jumping **** jilting jinn. knowingly keeping kryptonite, ***** Kardashian kvetches, kris kringle ken kool, kissing kitty, kosher kumquats kippered, k-nine kooky korps, kowtowing ku klux **** kinsfolk. legal leafstalk lawlessly locked, lacerated, lambasted, languished lost lively lust, limped, legal levity limited. menfolk made macho mission. many moons monthly mandate marked maybe mars, mercurial maladroit monkey manumission modified modus mystifying maze moonwalk.
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