"infamously" poems
your eyes don't glisten like they used to
just saying it's not something usual for you
*so I guess you're heavily imbued
with this crestfallen attitude?*
yea I know,
I've changed in the same way
my own little reverse-breakthrough
Risque foreplay with ultramarine Bombay
before stepping in to emcee the Devil's soiree
And no, you really don't --and honestly never did-- know me;
you only knew one of many façades I brazed
on my face
in the midst of a cliche
New Year's day typa haze
During the phase of
my infamously tempestuous craze
I was precipitously *(ignited
quite possibly by my own
flaring sparks)*
set ablaze with praise
but my mores seem to be misplaced
probably somewhere in the frenzy and hysteria
So I guess I'm left to embrace my untraced boundaries
*And get my viridian eyes back to glistening
on their own viridescent terms
Not codependent on the hollowed adulation
and sweet-talk from bamboccioni*
Feb 24, 2018
Feb 24, 2018 at 6:52 AM UTC
I am not your **** toy
Not a plastic doll
Your fantasies
Don't get to come
True on my account
These aren't your fun bags
My *** is not to smack
My skin longs
For the touch of fingertips
But crawls at the thought
Bristle before, relax
Never knowing
What unwanted touch
Is coming next
Never knew to say no
Never knew wrong was wrong
Until it was all too late
Doctor in the barn
Damaged on the trail
Grabbed my wrist -- was I wrong?
Drank it all away
Faded into blackness
Forcing through the door
Older now
Learning once again
They only want one thing from you;
You're just a last resort
So feign for their attention
Gave as good as got
Dove right down that rabbit hole
Trying to drown it out
And still -- trapped, touched
Touche
But then again, and "No"
That famous word
So infamously hard to hear
Too ashamed to fight back
Give in
Then
Live in
FEAR
Let me say again
Because it bears repeating:
Give in, then
Live in fear
Bare --
Repeating
****
Say it with me now
Such an ugly word
How does it make you feel
Do you feel ashamed
Are you feeling scarred
Do you feel her fear
Or is it not so clear?
Do you feel
Powerful now
Or is it
All her fault
Such an ugly word
So, say it with me now
****
Found out what it means to me.
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 1:22 PM UTC
The news will say we're suffering from excess immigration
That a rampant hoard of foreigners has fallen on our nation
But truthfully, there hasn't been a native Briton here
Since people dressed in mammoth skin and hunted with a spear
Our language is a mixture of a dozen different tongues
We munch our way through poppadoms, fajitas and fu-yungs
When cheering at a football match, we're infamously vocal
Our teams may be the finest but the players won’t be local
Genetically, a Briton is a multi-cultured stew
With Romans, Saxons, Vikings and the Celts, to name a few
Our national drink is Indian, the Germans make our beer
The TV comes from China and the table from IKEA
Potatoes from America and onions grown in Spain
A multitude of British things arrive by boat and plane
The rain that falls upon our hills has blown from over seas
And with it come migrating birds to nest in British trees
The Royal Windsor family have Greek and German genes
So think about just what it is that being British means
We're stronger with our differences, the best of humankind
Our nation, not an island but a common state of mind
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
Romance isn’t dead
Once upon a time in a galaxy far, far away,
There lived a young boy, smiling his way through all the pain.
He knew one day that love would shine upon him;
The people saw him suffer, but always with a grin.
Just one boy and just one girl;
An intimate, forgiving, unquestionable religion.
Love, life, death.
Romantic ‘til the end.
Happy being sad;
Confusing to his friends.
Faithless romantic, infamously sad;
Faithless romantic, infinitely sad.
Faithless romantic, the only thing I’ve ever had.
Infamously, infinitely, romantic ‘til the death.
She broke my heart; you won’t see me smile.
The tears you see me crying, were her tears for a while.
Complete devotion, will let you down,
Because love steals your senses
And you crash to the ground.
Faithless romantic, infamously sad;
Faithless romantic, infinitely sad.
Faithless romantic, the only thing I’ve ever had.
Infamously, infinitely, romantic ‘til the death.
Some day soon, she’ll walk back through that door,
But my heart will still beat for her
And someone else will have her love.
Just one day, is all I had,
To show her all I could be, we could be;
We could last right through our deaths.
Faithless romantic, infamously sad;
Faithless romantic, infinitely sad.
Faithless romantic, the only thing I’ve ever had;
Infamously, infinitely, romantic ‘til the death.
(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 18, 2018
May 18, 2018 at 6:30 PM UTC
Everyday is spring, Everyday is autumn
Today is Summer, infamously hot and stagnant
Clouds are still, leaves don't rustle
Birds have gone away and all there's left is sun
There are burns from winter, frozen for too long
No summer warm enough to melt, though today tries
Come again someday when there is spring, when there is autumn
Be summer with ice then, and maybe melt away
Feb 17, 2021
Feb 17, 2021 at 3:53 AM UTC
when you see me, a girl with tan skin but her parents are black and white, what do you think?
do you instantly assume that my dad wasn't there? if you do, you'd be correct. do you think about whether or not i've witnessed violence? in and outside of the home? if you do, you'd be correct. do you think that i had to help with the bills because my single mother couldn't scavenge enough money to pay them by herself and no one would help her? if you do, you'd be correct.
truth is, i've never even considered being the definition of a stereotype. ever. people have always called me a "half-breed", a ******* and infamously a ****** even though the hard r wasn't always pronounced. i've never been offended by their words though, my mom has taught me to have tougher skin than that.
i've always been a stereotype, though. i guess in some people's eyes that's all i am. a young girl living up to her background.
but the thing is, i know that i'm worth more than their insults, assumptions, thoughts, and doubts. i'm going to be more than a stereotype one day. mark my words.
Apr 16, 2019
Apr 16, 2019 at 5:02 PM UTC
You are everything, my reason to live
Though something dark withers within
Everytime I see you, a piece of me dies
Over and over, but I fear you don’t mind
Do you care so little that I am suffering inside?
Or is it you do, and you’re covering it with lies?
My moments of pure light turn to into shade
I hesitate as I create creases with my blade
Just as curious and clueless, as I infamously am
I’ll accept my fate as your sacrificial lamb
And I’ll die for you again.
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 4:35 AM UTC
I am a criminal,
So you and the papers say.
They would put me away
For countless nights and days.
Tucked away "safe" in jail,
All for the choice of herbs I inhale.
That they would only have their way...
Yet I am no marauding mobster,
No gangster for hire.
I smoke in the evenings
When daylight is fleeting
And withdraw to my rooms to retire.
I am no plundering pirate
Pillaging your private property.
I go about my day,
As right as I may,
You will find no evil protégée.
I am spoken in the same breath
As delinquents and undesirables.
The infamously unfavourable,
Mire on our tireless society.
Well I am tired now,
Fatigued.
I've grown weary of living
In your narrow minded
Make believe.
Yet I leave you be.
Keep to mine and own.
It is you who lights the torches
From high deluded throne.
It is you who crafted and rounded
That perfect stone,
Hurled with such indiscrimination
Always many, never alone.
Each night now I wonder,
When I cross that imaginary line.
Such fools we've been,
The waste obscene,
Who really commits the crime?
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 8:01 PM UTC
A smile spreads along my face at my audacity to think I could put together a string of words and say I wrote a poem for you
To say I'm sorry and please forgive me.
I knew what I was doing but to lose your love is not what I foresaw
But sorry had become so ordinary in our love it will not soothe your soul but smash your heart again.
Your heart with the Midas touch returned all the innocence I once possessed before life stripped it away and left me naked.
I could sit here and recite a bible of soliloquies about a doubled edged sword of I love you I hate you.
But I won't.
I mutter your name in my sleep and morrow they will ask what I said and I'll look up with an iron curtain around my emotions and say a nightmare I will myself to forget.
Because you are a constant reminder of how I infamously ruin any good that comes to me.
I am fathers daughter after all , I conceived in a woman the joys that lit her face in the darkness and kept her fears at bay.
I took the promise of forever and obliterated the light in her eyes and walked away leaving her alone with a broken life.
And now I am barren like women who can't give birth and empty like a woman who said yes to abortion.
And I'll never know what love means
Nov 1, 2013
Nov 1, 2013 at 9:53 AM UTC
You cringeworthy, evil pismire;
Your father did surely miss-sire
This personification of flatulence,
The embodiment of self importance
Overflowing with abject peccancy
Devoid of any sign of respectability
Replete with gross odoriferousness
Horribly and infamously unscrupulous.
You have reveled in misrepresentation
And tried to elevate your calumniation
Disinformation and deception exists
As capitalistic dissembling persists.
You’ve collected an evil government
Built mostly of human excrement
And have such a lack of veracity
That you speak in constant mendacity.
Sycophantic eructations of dogmatic bile
Issue from your unsympathetic smile
And your inauthentic glad-handed gropes
As if we all of us are unbright gullible dopes
That buy your fabrications completely
While you pilfer and prevaricate indiscreetly.
You are a Vaudevillian villain miscast as star,
But most of us know exactly what you are.
Deceit, deception, dishonesty; a tragedy
But not for you, for us and our country.
Distortion, evasion and fabrication the rules;
You despair of any other kinds of tools.
Falsehoods, fictions and forgery are your tricks.
You demand we build with straw-less bricks
Your erections that are planned to be palaces
Filled with your giant golden carved phalluses.
Those monuments, inanotomically correct,
Established to celebrate and somehow protect
A mountebank on the way to an overseas bank
Claiming to eradicate the scoria he creates
That decades of privation will not quite alleviate.
But you, the Great Prevaricator, will always blame
Other players in your sick, unconstitutional game
Instead of admitting your complicity and guilt
About the disgusting, putrid swamp you built.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
“Mistakes were made.”
I quote at least three recent former U.S. Presidents,
Who wrote or spoke infamously in the passive voice.
Here’s a bit of history:
The words spoken by automated phone systems,
Were code written by computer programmers.
Computer geeks, revered for their cold logic and impartiality;
Like scientists taught to maintain objectivity,
When studying fascinating subjects like Base-2 Binary Codes,
Disk partitioning and hard drive defragmentation.
Impersonal, the passive voice avoids sentiment,
Steers clear of pesky opinions unfounded on certainty or proof.
Unsurprisingly, the passive voice seeped quickly,
Into the language of politicians,
Our beloved rogues and rapscallions,
Hiding truth, avoiding accountability and culpability.
Practitioners of political science,
They bob and weave and spin.
Yes, mistakes were made.
Apr 13, 2015
Apr 13, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
Looking out
Around
There is a generation
Not the one with angelheaded hipsters
That were laid infamously famous
But truly a generation that is its own
Cold, calculating, as they, we, must
Be now that there is everything
There is everything here but right now
As we are surrounded by the everything that
Makes up our filled lives, we concentrate on
The nothing.
So we, they, them, I all must be cold, calculating
Networking, meeting, greeting, cheering,
Pleading for work in the everything that is
Nothing.
And as I look out, through the window
Into our generation, my generation
There is a warmness
A kindness once
unfamiliar to coldness and calculating
Where despite distance, time, values, reasons
Nothing
everything
Bonds are made
Is it this cold networking, greeting, meeting that
Allows for the kindness that kindles the fire
That keeps our cheeks warm and glowing
A soft pink in the dead of night
As we stand by kegs, cups, tables, cops, cars, bars,
By girls vomiting on their own volition or not
By boys raising hell as their families admonish but
Their cultures praise
We, Them, I, They, Us, can not know
What we, them, I, They Us are doing
Just as others didn’t know what they
Were doing, and meaning and becoming maryters for
On a clear fall day, when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky
Yet turbulence filled the air, the nation and the world.
They, We, I, Us, Them, do not even
Consider their meaning as they ponder
Fake lives on interposed mediums
Or if they are Jackies,
Or Marilyns or
Audreys
Or if laying down somewhere
just as warm as it is cold
As they touch souls with others
Means anything more than nothing
If they can hold on as they try to let go
When an entire world begs them not to
But the teenage desire to rebel is strong
And the pull of the vast of emotions is stronger
And as we seem to be losing
In clusters
The We.
I.
Us.
They. Them
The fire never dims, and the warm pink glow never flickers
Off our cheeks
And the mix of cold calculations and
Pleasant beatitudes
Combine, like a nights plans
In a gin bucket
And the thought of importance, rarely is thought
Of aside from the few
The brave
Maybe a Marine, but mostly
Those who wish to cure things, change other things
Create things, build things, code things
Things Things Things Things.
T-H-I-N-G-S
For a future of nothing and everything
Everything and nothing
May 12, 2013
May 12, 2013 at 9:35 PM UTC
upright, I display the dead
battery
of my dreams.
daylight
is the bald spot
of my father’s
god.
of late, rumors
have surfaced
in regards
to my mother’s
infamously
pastoral
aerobics.
how to jack
a scarecrow
off. how to go
unheard
by the occupant
of an outhouse.
most people are not women, and think
only
in birth
scenes.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 3:29 PM UTC
"you still kick it in the slums ?
you still sell drugs ?
you still like to party ?
you still binge n get ****** up ?"
As much as I love a fight
I'd rather leave them to their ****** imaginations
--I find my amour-propre
when I see a use of my knack for kinesics
as mischievous manipulation--
Causing the busy-bodies' capitulation;
instantaneously subjugated
So I bestow my infamously vexatious smirk
as I say
"absolutely."
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
No matter the level of drought
In the sky
There’s the occasional dewdrop
A little is better than none
None is none
So who wants none
When he can have it all?
Let tongues travel
Across the sea and back
Making me infamously famous
It is a starved plant which hears its stomach rumbling
Casting aspersions will do me no harm
You have to walk in these shoes to feel the heat
I can lie in wait for a river without water
But can’t be thirsty sitting close to a river overflowing
With no thought of the river offering to quench my thirst.
Amoafowaa Sefa Cecilia © 2014
Aug 11, 2014
Aug 11, 2014 at 2:10 PM UTC
balter aimlessly
let's dance infamously
no rest in the room for eternal minutes
oh just spin us
counting the rhythm on our extra digits
this movement is more like fidgeting
moonwalking with iridecent souls
the feet kick and squirm and meet the knee
a bend of the neck, of the elbow
until you're hands meet me
in the middle
the fidget winds to a fiddle,
sudden like we're syncing
a drift saved from break by interlocking steps unperformed
together the dance, never grew worn,
although it's nothing less, it's nothing more
© 2015 Kate Volk
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:49 PM UTC
I am God!
But I guess you already figured it out!
Of course you did, you are intelligent!
And mine enlightened creature!
You know I am always right!
My millions of believers can't be wrong!
My priests, my monks and mullahs!
We truly are a happy holy family!
Sometimes we'll hang you in the nearest tree!
Only because of what you think of me!
You know I am too good and strong for you!
And if not, I will save you infamously!
I am fluid and I am light, I take and I give!
Sometimes a real cerebral brain damage!
I am God so do not try to reject me!
Or I'll **** and rip you into pieces!
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 8:30 AM UTC
We soon got wind of of the crime: he wound up with a wound but weathered it fairly well, waiting for the affair to wind down while they wondered whether windy weather had played a role affecting the whole scene. The effect of the hole, (seen in court) was downplayed, read at the hearing as a likely red herring.
The jury, having heard, gave their verdict as a herd; unanimously.
(And, more famously, anonymously.) The infamously failed assassination set precedents for presidents as we asked, as a nation, to have safety take precedence over presidential presence, urging all residents to monitor their residence since shooters deft for lead could leave others left for dead indeed.
The casings were recovered, and the whole case covered by the press (though some journalists, pressed by the particulars of the case, cased out the possibility of covering close-up) until the case closed up.
Apr 15, 2019
Apr 15, 2019 at 3:17 PM UTC
Like billowing drapes in the
infamously airy Fitzgerald scene,
deep cerulean waves transform me
into an idle dope.
Still yet existing, breathing,
confined
to les regles of the trade
even in the softly overwhelming shadow
of the undiscovered waters.
The soft breeze only provides temporary
relaxation.
I am strongly affected in my physical state:
vegetative, even.
But my psyche screams for
A true offering of peace,
the final offering,
the permanent offering,
the end.
Mar 25, 2018
Mar 25, 2018 at 10:51 PM UTC
lies, hatred, fake news, smears....
if this is labour in opposition
what on earth would they be like
in power.
it was Donald trump who popularized
the term "fake news"
but it is the labour party that has turned
misinformation and lies into an art form
ian austen
Exremists that shore up Money Extortionists and Gangsters
that victimized an innocent blackman for standing up to Local area Criminals, and turned a hardworking decent law-abiding man
into a jobless, isolated, demonized outcast, for daring to tell crooks to go get a job and better themselves rather than burglarizing those that work.
ATTACK ON FREEDOM OF SPEECH and THE FREE PRESS
In his 2018 speech to members at the Labour Party conference, he encouraged them to go online and attack journalists: “The free press has far too often meant the freedom to spread lies and half-truths, and to smear the powerless, not take on the powerful. You challenge their propaganda of privilege by using the mass media of the 21st century: social media”.
That could be why journalists are routinely booed at Labour press conferences and BBC Political Editor Laura Kuenss-berg needed security guards when she covered the party’s annual conference in 2017.
In an interview the same year, Corbyn even admitted to being a reader of The Canary, described by one left-wing writer as “running a sexist hate campaign against Laura Kuenssberg”.
Of the controversial site, Corbyn said: “I think it’s good that people go to all the alternative sites and check out what they want. I’ve read The Canary quite a bit.”
Corbyn was infamously a member of an extremist Facebook group, too, in which he defended a blatantly anti-Semitic mural depicting Jews as greedy bankers, while his staff were found to be members of several others.
The Facebook groups set up in his name reveal the ugly face of the hard Left that now controls Labour.
That’s why his faction of extremists can’t be allowed anywhere near No10.
If this is what they are like in opposition, can you imagine how bad they’d be in power?
Ian Austin is a former Labour MP and chair of Mainstream, the campaign against extremism.
Dec 11, 2019
Dec 11, 2019 at 9:34 PM UTC
So many accept their calling.
While others pretends to be prophets.
Some infamously trying to protect their hard earned money.
Not all gospel singers are requested to be ministers.
But there they stand with the collar.
Motivating souls to holler.
If only one ever heard JESUS preached.
Than they were privileged to a wonderful sermon.
And guess what?
This man wore no collar.
Never raised his voice to speak.
But quietly did his requirements.
If teaching his disciples through simple parables.
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
I hear you seek to be;
To be without cant;
To be free of the weakness in yourself.
It is not enough just to be —
Hear what I say —
The acts in the shadow do not allow you to be.
You see, men who are
Make by right the claim to be
And stand in place for all to see.
As some few lead,
Most must follow.
Folly it is for you to make believe.
I see — draw the weapon,
Rail against your fate.
The quest answered thus.
Yes, ****** home knife, gun, bomb.
You have the right after all endured.
By this act you will be — infamously.
© 2016
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
“Once I did love her as everyone knew,
And the Elysium can adjure to such,
Globules of love still trickle in my soul,
And benevolence of pain fills my heart,
I loved her endlessly even of her cynically sense,
Sometimes hesitant and at other times resentful,
Loving her regardless of her ambitious benevolence,
As tears is infamously brief the brow of my cheek,
She was the shadow of darkness that hid from me,
Will a new love me with an obverse passionate fervor?
The globules of anamnesis drip from my heart and soul
Are these pieces of my soul that still cling to her?
Nor can I descent from despair from this I once loved,
Inescapable moments of life are as sure as leaves fall,
As clouds form before a storm and the sun sets in eve,
As glacial flowers have fallen upon my latent heart,
And from ethereal hopes to a crevice of vicissitudes,
By Andrew Guzaldo 06/25/2019 ©
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 1:32 PM UTC