"indecency" poems
I tore the fabric of space
Interrupting my affectionate stalking
Spurts of longing, interspersed
with spasms of premature *****
In vain, hankering to attain that next level rush
*Oh you're a ***** girl aren't you*
That's when I was discovered...
Her shrieks royally flushing my cheeks with shock
-Superseded by pallid chagrin
I fumble to bail,
Pants entrenched around my ankles
Premeditative,
Of absent-mind, in haste
Prime directive a method of escape
Evasion failing
Detection:
Imminent
Reflecting a grim lack of circumspection,
accursed **********
Trying to conceal my turgid ********
Her father particularly beyond reason
And not fond of my indecency for his daughter
Proceeds pummeling me to death with my beloved binoculars
Devoid of clairvoyance;
I am coincidentally sent
outward toward oblivion
Bon voyage through the portal
Falling facefirst into an abysmal wormhole
Its then I voyaged backward through time
To the moment of Creation
And witnessed the universe
**** itself from naught to existence
Spewing forth such cataclysmic splendor
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
I was raised by a pack of fools
Who proclaim Caucasians are the best.
And are glad to fight, at the drop of a hint
To put the whole matter to the test.
They have an entire joke routine
And descriptive names they repeat
In minimizing and insisting that
Their right to decent treatment isn’t real.
There are references to some animals
And unfunny comments about color.
The statements about characteristics
Of body and features always go together
With a special set of gross anecdotes
To cover any kind of non-Christian belief.
And the refusal to consider equality
As a decent attitude stands in bright relief.
Beneath all this horror, not very deep,
Lies a sickening river of hate and fear
That fails to improve as education is
Rejected year after disgusting year.
Pointing out the error of their ways
Might earn you a punch in the eye
But the bigot hangs on to their rage
And never gives fellowship a try.
The American Bigot claims to be
A staunch Christian all the way through
Which forces them to hate and cheat
And lie as much as Jesus would do.
Of course, we know that Jesus was
A preacher of love and acceptance
But it seems that bigots never quite
Made that Jesus’ acquaintance.
So, here we can see we need to add
Some terms to this kind of individual
Whose relationship to peace and love
Is at best slight, scant and residual.
We also need to append to their titles
Of masters of anger fear and prejudice
The unhealthy pallor of indecency,
Dishonesty, inhumanity and cowardice.
Apr 4, 2016
Apr 4, 2016 at 11:33 PM UTC
Or darling, or sweetheart
But especially not babe.
You disgust me with your indecency.
Maybe some girls like when random strangers,
Mostly older men,
Scan their bodies intently.
I, frankly, am not really into that.
That is no way to attract me.
Don't touch my waste or the small of my back,
But most prominently,
Do not touch my hips or my ****
At least not in public.
I am not insecure,
I just think that some things should remain private.
I owe you nothing,
But I deserve respect.
I am a lady,
And I expect to be treated like one.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 7:47 PM UTC
Head a hostile environment again
Emotion overthrows intelligence
Fragile skull accepts another beating
and indecency becomes preference
Absorbing black into gray matter
Meticulous infiltration;
Makes death a desire
and living a fear
Friendly fire
Mind battles disease, disease
obliterates mind to violence
collided with sharpened corners of myself
****** mess, wrong message
Swallowing hostile heavy medications,
contain my elation so that overjoy
doesn't morph into mania, or joy
Mass of electrons now inside
find nothing positive; thought paralyzed
Deviating cells that scare themselves
from the darkened sanguinary state.
wide eyed faces searching for a homeostasis
Far from stable since demon's rule
Constant epiphanies with no execution
turn to facts filed in brain catalogs
Fully aware solutions are there,
but the drawers are glued shut
~kb
Jan 29, 2019
Jan 29, 2019 at 12:43 AM UTC
It’s the snarl inside me –
The vicious gnashing and clashing of
smashed teeth,
Of swollen tongue and bleeding gums.
It’s the bite-mark-shaped-heart –
The gnawed thighs and gouged and greedy eyes,
The crushed howls and unheeded cries of
my bullet-spotted, leopard-dotted lungs.
I’m a savage, splattered mess;
Dripping indecency from the heart of me,
Letting letters pore recklessly from
every sore and red-raw pore.
I’m the ravenous maw of madness;
Drooling long strings of sentences
that pool relentlessly
down the endless feed of the cyberverse,
Then disappear into obscurity
to be lost forevermore.
I’m the untamed beast
that’s been released
from the leash of other people’s shame –
Now I’ll feast upon my foolishness
‘Til I get caught again.
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 9:53 AM UTC
the attention deficit hyperactivity disorder
poem
is a strange animal
with lines
monosyllabically
short
and then
perilously freakishly faulknerically
long
but not to worry
the trick is to ***** around
with the readers' heads a bit
let them wonder
what's going on
get them used to
obnoxious departures
sudden jolts
of expression
devious detours into
obscenity, indecency
these are the
tourette's moments
of a poet's creative life:
a move to keep those with the
attention span of an infant gnat
awake alive responsive
some may expect poetry
to take them down
safe bland routes:
a snowfall enhanced by red robins
perched on a rustic fence
a lake with canoeing lovers cooing
in a shimmering moment
heartfelt elegies
quaint quatrains
hip haikus
but can these images
really keep you entranced?
well, can they?
it isn't like i didn't warn you
or the horse you rode in on
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 12:21 PM UTC
We are like resonating strings
We crave what resonating brings
Matching our vibrations
With audiovisual sensations
Rapid reverberations
Expand and cross nations
Transmit like radio stations
These vibes deny explanation
We seek community
Where we can truly be
The truest form of “me”
Totally friction free
Grooving to the moving
Jiving to the beat
Dancing to the music
Feeling so complete
We are energy looking for a path
A certain resonance frequency
That could be conveyed with math…
But that would be indecency
Instead we name it differently
We call it personality
But to put it honestly
We are atoms in reality
A pattern, a frequency
A string reverberating
Looking to vibrate freely
Liquid, liberating
So go with your intuition
Follow the beat of your own drum
Find your ideal situation
Your part of the continuum
Jun 24, 2019
Jun 24, 2019 at 11:19 AM UTC
Back home,
There is a boy
With red hair, freckles,
And eyes the shade of blue
His mother calls "lady killers."
He's colorblind;
At least enough to believe
In jellyfish.
His father builds houses
With a rib-less heart
The boy calls home.
His mother,
Sews trust with her spine.
And thirty years later
They still find love
In the lonely isles of
The local Laneco.
His teacher says
He needs a pen pal,
So after school
He writes to me:
"Hi, how are you."
"I'm fine, thanks, and you?"
And then he asks me
What it's like to be
"Grown up"
And just how many
Stars I've scarred
With nothing but the rusty
Edge of my name.
So I fold the
Envelope of this
Crinkled heart into a letter
Of tattered Bibles
From hotel drawers of
Lost loves and dead friends
And find the courage
To tell him what
Being a man means.
I tell him:
We call it growing up
Because boulders
Always roll down.
It's refusing CPR
For every time you drown
In your own pride.
It's loving a girl
For every time she tried.
Tried to
Convince your tunnel vision
That her body is not a cave.
That respecting a woman
Is more important
Than how well you pave
Your parking lot heart.
Shallow like a baking pan.
This is an apology.
For every man
Who ever thought a woman's body
Is the only temple worth praying to.
Making four leaf clovers
From petals of roses
Trying to get lucky.
I know it's not lovely,
To kiss someone who
Is so constantly
Full of ********
And I'll admit it.
I'm not yet
Where I need to be
But I thank God
That I'm no longer
Where I use to
See I'm used to
Smoking way too many
*** scenes to know that
There is not enough
Alcohol in the world
To ever clear my mind.
And I have caused way
Too many Prozac commercials
To know that there is
No effective dosage
For this disorder
Of indecency.
To know that it is
No measure of good health
To be well adjusted
To a sick society
Of mechanical men
Always worried about
Who and when they're going
To plug into.
So I tell him:
You are not a robot,
A computer, or a program.
And your choices are the only
Thing that will ever make you a man.
So strap up your boots,
Bury the ashes,
Shake the dust,
And dandelion your
Heart in every
Direction of home.
But most importantly,
Go easy on the ladies;
Because
The older I get and
More I learn about myself
The more I'm writing
With my eraser
Than with anything else.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 12:39 PM UTC
By Arcassin Burnham
While I continue to search for the purpose
I should have possessed along time ago
While I was still kicking and screaming
Fading away and took hold of my soul,
Now I have no idea where I'll end up when
I die,
Probably somewhere in hell fire at the end
Of a chain and a whip begging God to give
Me what I deserve,
But as a mistake I deserve nothing,
Why do I have to be any different than he or
She,
Why can't I just be stronger than both parties,
Dark , depressing, and lonely like premature
Ejaculations,
Born into a world that teaches you it's wicked ways,
I pray,
For all that have to live in the so-called "ghetto",
I pray,
These bad memories will disappear in time,
I pray that every single bad thing I've experienced
And wasn't good at will advance and make me into
The human being I need to be,
But the Lord doesn't hear me,
At least the Lord I'm praying to will agree,
Most of us sit with our mouths shut,
And bathe in this indecency,
But no one is listening.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 8:13 PM UTC
you curl your fingers around the nape of the
passenger seat and the cold
metal stings but you can feel the
ghost of the prey brush your body
like the streetlights on the backseat last night
before you clutched the headrest and
you reach in the dark but
your hands miss the leather
the warm body heat of the car
thrumming up beneath you slams
your head into the dashboard where
the light turns from a bruised yellow to a crippled red
you are awake again
the steering wheel is cooler than you remember
smoother, sleeker, stealthy the wheel
will turn the predator around in a circle because
it seems to mimic itself where
in mimicry it is found
oh tyger tyger simmering out
you drive.
the gear shift does not obey when you
push it up rough and messy but it
locks in gear while you
wrap your fingers around the curve
and grind to a halt in the road
you cannot make this cliff.
the light in the dash blinks.
the trunk is opening and the vehicle is still moving
you roll down your window to ask the night a question in the glazed white of moonlight that is
so much like forgetting
_will this road take me back to Del Sol and the Girl Who Lost Her Lover on Route 66?_
she doesn't respond but
that is okay because the vehicle is still moving
and the leather is slick between your thighs
and you are going down
tonight you will descend.
the night will draw you home.
goodnight lover.
Dec 18, 2018
Dec 18, 2018 at 8:00 PM UTC
Total abstinence is so excellent a thing it cannot be carried to too great an extent and
Wit is the sudden marriage of ideas which before their union had no relation.
Americans will occasionally astonish the God that created us when given a fair shake .
Indecency is the first thing the missionary teaches the savage.
Nature knows no indecencies ;man invents them.
Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities ,truth isn't.
Action is always the way ; words will answer as long as it is his neighbor who is in trouble.
Truth is the most valuable thing we have.Let us economize it.
Herodotus says,very few things happen at the right time and the rest do not happen at all
Obsession is the man with a hole in the seat of his pants and cannot keep his fingers out it
My mother had a great deal of trouble with me but I think she enjoyed it
Size of the dog in the fight dont count.size of the fight in the dog
Dont go around going the world owes you a living. The world was here first
Denial Just aint a river in EGYPT
Prose wanders around with a lantern & laboriously schedules & verifies the details.
The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated
Hunger is pride's master
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 3:32 AM UTC
Why are you appealing to me-
Stimulating my ****** desire
tending to arouse evil with inside
Me- You
Us
Identical-
Suggestively I've laid out
flowery perfumed petal
trailing to the bedroom
I've characterized you
by obscenity's & indecency's
you've already let me get away with
**** vivacious recipient-
eluding the lubricious
embraces of
my prurient thought.
Thigh high boots
Whips Creme & chains
Swing chair done up tight to the ceiling,
Lubrications lotions & potions,
Candlelit flickers
as
Our
silhouette's merge into
Identical
mirrored image
You- Me
Mingling
Melting- the little death
becomes
Us!
Identical........
Always me Ayeshah
Mar 9, 2010
Mar 9, 2010 at 6:47 PM UTC
( )
^
•
000 000
( )
< < < > > >
O O
•
Comin down the hill
I see you comin towards me
We are the free men
•
Whatever it is
That has been killed
Within the human spirit
We shall heal
For we are of the master light
The soul of the world
And we shall see all promises
Are fulfilled
••
Into the darkness
We feel
The presence of the refugees
And lost urchin children
And the sacred ladies
///
Let us cast aside our own filthy rags !
Our wasted wanton words
Of indecency and shame
And speak the true language of man
Once again !
Let us fulfill our own destiny
And restore the magic
Which is ourselves
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 3:43 AM UTC
dear mind,
you are attempting indifference,
i try to be too
i am independent
however
without a prop i would surely fall
perhaps this is my lack of confidence
though none of us seem to have any
so that couldn't be it
maybe its my humanity speaking
please excuse my indecency.
i do not mean to be honest but this game of make-believe should have ended long ago
you make me cringe
though, you are my confidant.
we need to help the others
i know you see it too
please stop pressing so hard its turning me blue
and these mind puzzles you play with me are missing some pieces
there are so many screaming souls to save
you and i are lucky
smile more
even though i hate this mouth.
tomorrow we'll wake together
early
we'll try to work our way up the cliff
and throw ropes for the stragglers.
ill leave you now
i know you have tears to dry and words to cross out
write back soon, you are so often gone.
- heart
Sep 10, 2014
Sep 10, 2014 at 10:06 PM UTC
I wanna fall over and roll around,
In all the broken pieces of myself,
I want to feel that pain all over again,
So I know not to let you in again,
Because you broke my heart once,
You broke my heart twice,
And now it'd be shame on me,
If I let you in to see,
All the shattered pieces you left,
Before you got up and left,
Me here to rot for eternity,
In the pain of your indecency,
Because I got high on you,
And now that my fix is gone,
I'd do anything for another hit,
Even shatter my already broken heart,
So have mercry on my bruised soul,
And stay away like you should,
Please don't answer my pleading messages,
To come back to me, cause I can't learn my lesson,
That once your heart is broke once,
Then your heart is broken twice,
Well then it's my fault,
That I can't seem to get enough,
Be the person I need you to be,
That you could have been,
But weren't because we're both so selfish,
So let's take our love, and shelf it,
Because I got high on you,
And now that my fix is gone,
I'd do anything for another hit,
Even shatter my already broken heart.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 5:05 PM UTC
I was never the period to your story.
A pause, a storm before your glory.
Our part now history,
the ifs to our theory.
You’re what a woman should be,
No shamelessness, no indecency.
But I couldn’t give up my religion.
We knew the risk, ‘twas my decision.
I’ll forever cherish our time together.
The nights, days, drives I’ll remember.
Months felt like a lifetime with you.
A life we both outgrew.
What a lucky guy he is.
Tying the knot is what you wished.
I’m happy for you.
You deserve happiness, it is due.
You’ll never get to read this,
But if you somehow see this..
I want to say that I’m glad you’re happy.
Wish you the best, a life without worry.
This is the last poem for and about you.
Best wishes! Goodbye and thank you.
Jul 13, 2022
Jul 13, 2022 at 8:08 AM UTC
All of you
turning into devils
honey-tongued demons
swinging from trees
proclaiming their indecency to the world
irreverence clouding a sense of modesty
because if you say it out loud,
it makes it
not
as
bad...
right?
Jun 20, 2012
Jun 20, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
Take a quick glance along this ragged path
Expose your eyes to the travesties
Immerse your soul in indecency
Are you too blind to see
Or too busy to look?
Each step you take
Is another misfortune misinterpreted
As socially acceptable or politically correct
Do you want to keep moving forward
Viciously approaching infinity without proper perception?
Or would you rather
Embark on that same path
Slow down your stride
And make a meaningful mark
Take a few steps back
Take your shoes off
And take a seat
***** your feet
And make the street you walk on
A visible masterpiece
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
*wafted aimlessly
'neath the steamy scorch
of summer's indecency,
as a winter's heart of
condemnation, set adrift
midst snowflake fire*
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 8:06 PM UTC
we’re hatred
in this warm, unhappy way
that seeps down our thighs like a child
******* his pants but we can’t see what they say:
when they say “look up at the moon” our eyes dance among stars.
we pretend
that the moon stands for
the somethings that are wrong in our lives,
like how bald babies don’t look our ways because we will
never ever ever be pretty, white daisies arching under the sun.
our cheeks
rustle among grass in this
calm way that says take my hand, and
spare yourself the indecency of imagining a love life
where they peel you apart like a ripe banana, discover diamonds
in your rind.
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 10:04 PM UTC
Repeating with
The frequency
Of apologies,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
While my head
Spins, and my
Innards lurch
Like carnival
Ride children,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
The chaos,
The orderly
Passage of red
Faced spectators
Drifting through space,
Their classic attempts
To embrace and
Disengage,
Grinning at what
Can't be erased,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
Like the sound of
Hopes cast into
The depths of hell,
Glinting tokens
You can't see
Seconds after you
Drop them in,
I'm the air,
I'm the disillusionment
That lets you know
When to be scared,
The anvil in
Your gut telling you
To stop,
I am the sweat
That drips
Like morphine
Into post-mortem
Pathways through
A needle
That needs sharpening,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening,"
This is just a test,
As they say,
It'll all be ok
Once some obese
***** wails,
The levees are stressed
And the horsemen
Idle and wait for the fail,
For the flood
Of repentance,
Of common
Indecency,
For the blood
From Ahab's whale
To initiate
The shackling
Of the sorrowfully
Undeclared,
"I'm not here,
This isn't happening."
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
God wasn't in the crusades
He isn't in the killing of weapons men made
He didn't solicit the death of millions
He doesn't reside in the tyranny of man
He doesn't just steal loved ones away
He isn't in the evil committed in his name
We have twisted his message of love to fit our needs
For control and bringing others to their knees
His message wasn't meant to enslave but to free
To serve and bring revival to the powers that be
So before we preach of Gods indecency
We have to look within
God didn't fail mankind
We failed him
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 2:43 PM UTC
Im coming of age
In the era of the devoid
Hollow greed seeps unearned
from elephanitus of love
all the dead *** heads
and the glorifed child **** stars
live in tandem with virginity commerce
a descriptive high full of lies
here we are raised to never forget
the look on a beautiful girls face
when the zippers break and all the mallets fall
when mud and blood and ***** mix to a collegiate concoction
Leaving her to bear the scabbing burns
The openings the ambrosia flesh wounds
The giant stamp of pulsing indecency
The markings don’t go so well with her hollow moon smiles
They don’t blend with her regal clavicles
To bend them in with a wrench
Would do no damage to this already feral *****
Don’t try to hide
The billboards may be sagging
But they carry the message loud and effeminate
All the drum ticks and coated arteries will explode
They cant be stopped
Mucho gusto, muy bien
All that we ever where locked into some
Tooth paste stained and tattered bibliomeca
It is true I have become that broken shameful collection
Which we are taught to stain in the wood works of our memory
I turn to page 1168
And I know that the bruises will be permanent
Surrounding the globe and bridging in the gaps
The ones that they left between your calamity eyes
Will they still love me with one foot locked in a bear trap
And a hobo having the last of my eyelashes ?
Or maybe just the scary albinos at the san Francisco bar scene
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 8:56 AM UTC
Bashful *******
Shying in vain
In vanity
A gust full of disgustions
Aiming for the senses
Of the senseless
Since less
Is what fools choose
In abundance
I’ll give enough lessons
To
Subtract the negative
Assumptions
Added that positivity
Is possible
In the stereotyping
Of our future
If so
Add All the differences
Attractions of the same
Usually end
In repulsion
But
Whose All
Is more than the rest?
Almighty
All none
All one
Alone
Ali
Altercation
Alliteration?
The geniuses
Debate
As satire misses
The point
Like dullness
Unafraid to be afraid
Of sameness
Though its comfort
Could conform the most
Rebellious heart
If left unchecked
I choose
To sit on the broken throne
Viewed
Absurd as blurbs
For the sake of unnervance
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 4:43 PM UTC