"impugned" poems - Hello Poetry

I will drag my knife along your skin, sharp blade down into your fragile, shaking canvas, incising an increasing beat of whimpers and whines. Please hold still. I promise this will hurt. I will expose your clattering bones, rip out your chattering teeth, erase every impugned utterance you muttered against me. I will carve my letters slowly on your unzipped frame, sliding the burgundy blood across to blot clot dot. This is only preparation for what is about to follow. I will puncture your throbbing organs, slash your stretched cartilage with an unwritten script. Before I press further, I’ll assure you, you are still alive. I will twist each phrase, haunt you to believe it is your fault, force you to beg the slightest escape. I will permanently etch my name deep in the frozen chambers of your quivering heart. I will open up the blueprint as a demolition expert, remove whole fractions of your fractured soul, leave you a horrid wreck in the abyss of a mess you just made. You will not get rid of me, though no trace of evidence is left behind. My hands have been clean from the start.

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Nov 10, 2015

Nov 10, 2015 at 2:19 PM UTC

e-townsend

I Can Get Ugly with My Words

I will drag my knife along your skin, sharp blade down into your fragile, shaking canvas, incising an increasing beat of whimpers and whines. Please hold still. I promise this will hurt. I will expose your clattering bones, rip out your chattering teeth, erase every impugned utterance you muttered against me. I will carve my letters slowly on your unzipped frame, sliding the burgundy blood across to blot clot dot. This is only preparation for what is about to follow. I will puncture your throbbing organs, slash your stretched cartilage with an unwritten script. Before I press further, I’ll assure you, you are still alive. I will twist each phrase, haunt you to believe it is your fault, force you to beg the slightest escape. I will permanently etch my name deep in the frozen chambers of your quivering heart. I will open up the blueprint as a demolition expert, remove whole fractions of your fractured soul, leave you a horrid wreck in the abyss of a mess you just made. You will not get rid of me, though no trace of evidence is left behind. My hands have been clean from the start.

33

I will drag my knife along your skin, sharp blade down into your fragile, shaking canvas, incising an increasing beat of whimpers and whines. Please hold still. I promise this will hurt. I will expose your clattering bones, rip out your chattering teeth, erase every impugned utterance you muttered against me. I will carve my letters slowly on your unzipped frame, sliding the burgundy blood across to blot clot dot. This is only preparation for what is about to follow. I will puncture your throbbing organs, slash your stretched cartilage with an unwritten script. Before I press further, I’ll assure you, you are still alive. I will twist each phrase, haunt you to believe it is your fault, force you to beg the slightest escape. I will permanently etch my name deep in the frozen chambers of your quivering heart. I will open up the blueprint as a demolition expert, remove whole fractions of your fractured soul, leave you a horrid wreck in the abyss of a mess you just made. You will not get rid of me, though no trace of evidence is left behind. My hands have been clean from the start.

0

Apr 5, 2016

Apr 5, 2016 at 11:07 AM UTC

e-townsend

I Can Get Ugly with My Words

I will drag my knife along your skin, sharp blade down into your fragile, shaking canvas, incising an increasing beat of whimpers and whines. Please hold still. I promise this will hurt. I will expose your clattering bones, rip out your chattering teeth, erase every impugned utterance you muttered against me. I will carve my letters slowly on your unzipped frame, sliding the burgundy blood across to blot clot dot. This is only preparation for what is about to follow. I will puncture your throbbing organs, slash your stretched cartilage with an unwritten script. Before I press further, I’ll assure you, you are still alive. I will twist each phrase, haunt you to believe it is your fault, force you to beg the slightest escape. I will permanently etch my name deep in the frozen chambers of your quivering heart. I will open up the blueprint as a demolition expert, remove whole fractions of your fractured soul, leave you a horrid wreck in the abyss of a mess you just made. You will not get rid of me, though no trace of evidence is left behind. My hands have been clean from the start.

33

Blowing on her hair I thought I was finally in heaven, a place that had always eluded me, a place that would never accept me, She smelled of lush, playful lavender, she felt soft, soft like the petals of a crocus on the first day of spring, and as I play with her hair I feel so secure, so loved, so blessed through all the pain I had caused, As I kiss her I look into those grey eyes, they scream for me to look past the beauty and let her in, "I wish I could" I tell her, but she just smiles and presses her head into my chest, Smelling that scent, so lovely, I begin to fall asleep, embraced by only good dreams and beautiful sounds, and so I rest on, and on, and on, until I feel light and snap awake, There she is, across from me, naked with shadows caressing her body in such a way that it haunts me to realize what had happened, as something that was never mine to take, I snatched it from the grasps of her maker, I am to be impugned, But for now we dress, her portrait in black and mine near the same

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Apr 27, 2010

Apr 27, 2010 at 10:15 AM UTC

sasha-komogorov

Awaken at Dusk

Blowing on her hair I thought I was finally in heaven, a place that had always eluded me, a place that would never accept me, She smelled of lush, playful lavender, she felt soft, soft like the petals of a crocus on the first day of spring, and as I play with her hair I feel so secure, so loved, so blessed through all the pain I had caused, As I kiss her I look into those grey eyes, they scream for me to look past the beauty and let her in, "I wish I could" I tell her, but she just smiles and presses her head into my chest, Smelling that scent, so lovely, I begin to fall asleep, embraced by only good dreams and beautiful sounds, and so I rest on, and on, and on, until I feel light and snap awake, There she is, across from me, naked with shadows caressing her body in such a way that it haunts me to realize what had happened, as something that was never mine to take, I snatched it from the grasps of her maker, I am to be impugned, But for now we dress, her portrait in black and mine near the same

24

What the **** is Cuck? It’s a brand new ***** word If you’ve been called a cuck You should know that you’ve been slurred You may have come across it While browsing the Interweb And seen it used insultingly When describing a Bush called Jeb It’s short for the old word Cuckhold But given a new spin It’s used to insult someone who’s committed the Political Correctness sin. If I may be declarative, The word is simply horrible, Be ye liberal or conservative I’d say it’s quite deplorable The Donald is no cuck, for sure When he utters dog whistles like this - If he says “blood comes out of her ‘whatever’” The true meaning you just can’t miss Or when he said the Second Amendment People Might take care of our dear Hillary Of whom he impugned would eliminate guns And promised that he would pillory Apologies are for sissies Don’t wait for a pivot or turn Was it voter suppression that rigged the election? One day, we may learn Cuck is the word of the day Like some chirp made by Pepe the Frog A new epithet from the far alt-right Who follow our new demagogue

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Nov 14, 2016

Nov 14, 2016 at 6:30 PM UTC

freddie-bercovitz

Cuck

What the **** is Cuck? It’s a brand new ***** word If you’ve been called a cuck You should know that you’ve been slurred You may have come across it While browsing the Interweb And seen it used insultingly When describing a Bush called Jeb It’s short for the old word Cuckhold But given a new spin It’s used to insult someone who’s committed the Political Correctness sin. If I may be declarative, The word is simply horrible, Be ye liberal or conservative I’d say it’s quite deplorable The Donald is no cuck, for sure When he utters dog whistles like this - If he says “blood comes out of her ‘whatever’” The true meaning you just can’t miss Or when he said the Second Amendment People Might take care of our dear Hillary Of whom he impugned would eliminate guns And promised that he would pillory Apologies are for sissies Don’t wait for a pivot or turn Was it voter suppression that rigged the election? One day, we may learn Cuck is the word of the day Like some chirp made by Pepe the Frog A new epithet from the far alt-right Who follow our new demagogue

32

Obstructing an investigation Is really easier than one thinks. Surround yourself with fawning fans To help you work out all the kinks. It helps if you can early on Fire the head of the whole shebang, And then sully his reputation With every subsequent harangue. Build distrust in the FBI So when the people hear those initials, They'll remember how you impugned The credibility of law officials. Spread the fear that a secret society, Cleverly organized and malicious, Is out to get you, even though In reality, it's fictitious. Let your "friends" in Congress create Alternate scandals that detract From your investigation, even Though they are not based on fact. A news station that has the least Credibility helps a great deal-- One that pedals conspiracy theories With unabashed passion and zeal. Undermine investigative Efforts by frequently causing confusion, And then repeat ad nauseum "No collusion! No collusion!" Using some Stalinesque techniques Helps your cause, and once you've begun, The people, too, will call the media Public enemy number one. Having power will make you feel That you possess unlimited choices. If democracy gets in the way, Keep on trying to quiet voices. All of the strategies listed above-- If they're mercilessly applied-- Will come in handy, especially If you have something to hide. -by Bob B (1-25-18)

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Jan 25, 2018

Jan 25, 2018 at 11:03 AM UTC

bob-b

How to Obstruct an Investigation

Obstructing an investigation Is really easier than one thinks. Surround yourself with fawning fans To help you work out all the kinks. It helps if you can early on Fire the head of the whole shebang, And then sully his reputation With every subsequent harangue. Build distrust in the FBI So when the people hear those initials, They'll remember how you impugned The credibility of law officials. Spread the fear that a secret society, Cleverly organized and malicious, Is out to get you, even though In reality, it's fictitious. Let your "friends" in Congress create Alternate scandals that detract From your investigation, even Though they are not based on fact. A news station that has the least Credibility helps a great deal-- One that pedals conspiracy theories With unabashed passion and zeal. Undermine investigative Efforts by frequently causing confusion, And then repeat ad nauseum "No collusion! No collusion!" Using some Stalinesque techniques Helps your cause, and once you've begun, The people, too, will call the media Public enemy number one. Having power will make you feel That you possess unlimited choices. If democracy gets in the way, Keep on trying to quiet voices. All of the strategies listed above-- If they're mercilessly applied-- Will come in handy, especially If you have something to hide. -by Bob B (1-25-18)

41

Who am I, too write? picking up the holy pen scattering words, demonically some literary, sin Surrounded, and out gunned talent, reigns supreme cowering in shadow, dark poetic, is the dream Each scrawl, blood from sword each quatrain, an open wound loathing every writ, and thought all questioned, and impugned The pains of art, not often seen product talks, for all gleaning what the artist means as epiphany a fore the fall

0

Dec 21, 2017

Dec 21, 2017 at 7:59 AM UTC

TemporalFugue

Mea Culpa

Who am I, too write? picking up the holy pen scattering words, demonically some literary, sin Surrounded, and out gunned talent, reigns supreme cowering in shadow, dark poetic, is the dream Each scrawl, blood from sword each quatrain, an open wound loathing every writ, and thought all questioned, and impugned The pains of art, not often seen product talks, for all gleaning what the artist means as epiphany a fore the fall

17

Privilege, has come of rage? A succor, found bedlam... Came and went, like an unified nation Giving the truth, a bit of beauty's wisdom... Guises in love, with a realm... Of valor, the poise and waiting of simplicity In the bells of the sky, a hunger, a health Waiting on harmony's wish, a stir of implicitly...? Harshness in a hash of destiny... Set to reliant music, the toll of our secrets Impugned totals, of decency come for a star's infinity... Care is such; much of a timid could, asking about universal limits? A light for synchronicity... We wager is a scattered hope, the times to defeat devoidance With the eyes, the purpose in love with a wakeful sleep... Is reach in its fault, or its drama of poise that has avid chance? Sweat of burden, instinct to liberate a hallowed shadow...? In the decisions of ruling vice, with the grace of knowing meant The voice of a proper patience, the tooth of remorse with ought's how... How is sincerity to avoid a clash, within the sphere of time and its letter? Passion In the stead we claim, is a reason to add the hill of pomposity Quite an other; in the rage of seemliness was our only hope, integrity? Of a quieter smile, in the name of entertaining a rational of reality? Do we belong here, when the mind of antiquity was a revelation? Like anarchy in succor's flames, a dragon of conscience Has come of age, at whether liberty can be an intuition... The power if not the privilege, of world's charm to imbue presence... Angel's dancing on a pin... Earthen stares, intellect forth a whisper of worth, no man Without his eventual lip, is alone the works of redemption In its way, is so, is go with a devoted **** of the fruit of the sun?

0

Apr 29, 2025

Apr 29, 2025 at 10:24 AM UTC

david-hilburn

Like Me, Psyching Out A Coy; Hollywood?

Privilege, has come of rage? A succor, found bedlam... Came and went, like an unified nation Giving the truth, a bit of beauty's wisdom... Guises in love, with a realm... Of valor, the poise and waiting of simplicity In the bells of the sky, a hunger, a health Waiting on harmony's wish, a stir of implicitly...? Harshness in a hash of destiny... Set to reliant music, the toll of our secrets Impugned totals, of decency come for a star's infinity... Care is such; much of a timid could, asking about universal limits? A light for synchronicity... We wager is a scattered hope, the times to defeat devoidance With the eyes, the purpose in love with a wakeful sleep... Is reach in its fault, or its drama of poise that has avid chance? Sweat of burden, instinct to liberate a hallowed shadow...? In the decisions of ruling vice, with the grace of knowing meant The voice of a proper patience, the tooth of remorse with ought's how... How is sincerity to avoid a clash, within the sphere of time and its letter? Passion In the stead we claim, is a reason to add the hill of pomposity Quite an other; in the rage of seemliness was our only hope, integrity? Of a quieter smile, in the name of entertaining a rational of reality? Do we belong here, when the mind of antiquity was a revelation? Like anarchy in succor's flames, a dragon of conscience Has come of age, at whether liberty can be an intuition... The power if not the privilege, of world's charm to imbue presence... Angel's dancing on a pin... Earthen stares, intellect forth a whisper of worth, no man Without his eventual lip, is alone the works of redemption In its way, is so, is go with a devoted **** of the fruit of the sun?

32

"When a man approaches you he must be consistent with his philosophy or else he'll be impugned by the high courts of his character." But what if his philosphy is to be? Will they hold him? "To be?" Yes, to be. To exist freely at the calling of his whims. "Show me a man breathing that is free I will show you delusion at best or at worst deception." To live in such a time where to err is a folly, how can this be? How are we to exist if we do not have opportune to fail? Risk- "Is merely masked fear. We must learn to embrace the nature of all forms."

0

Dec 9, 2015

Dec 9, 2015 at 10:15 PM UTC

keifus

F.D #01 Untitled

"When a man approaches you he must be consistent with his philosophy or else he'll be impugned by the high courts of his character." But what if his philosphy is to be? Will they hold him? "To be?" Yes, to be. To exist freely at the calling of his whims. "Show me a man breathing that is free I will show you delusion at best or at worst deception." To live in such a time where to err is a folly, how can this be? How are we to exist if we do not have opportune to fail? Risk- "Is merely masked fear. We must learn to embrace the nature of all forms."

7