"inflictions" poems
forget the drugs. yeah, they’re going
around and yeah, they’re pretty
dangerous, but they don’t take as many
lives. stop searching kids’
lockers and start looking for the deeper
stuff, the things that leave heavier
inflictions. yeah, i
know it’s nearly one
hundred degrees outside, and
there’s girls in here wearing
long sleeved sweaters. they’re
hiding something more
sinister, something
that can’t be measured in
kilos.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
May you never find a garden ugly,
a day when music has no life,
may you always slave at your soul,
your perfect reflection;
a kiss in the festival night.
May you never meet a door unopened
in the corridors of love,
may you always pick at your plate,
your humble inflictions;
the death of the stars above.
May you never find an empty space,
a day when beauty has no sight,
may you always search the skies,
your ****** wisdom;
a kiss in the festival night.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 1:46 PM UTC
I still deny the rules and social ties of citizen spies
that i televise by shouting chanted anthems into the sky
yet to comply with the codes of conduct i defy
as you synthesize the number and size
i am careful not to compromise the lost light within my eyes
my cold gaze reflective of your demise
and i
scrutinize them until they realize they're being penalized for the lies
until maggots monopolize your corpse through your cries
until pulled away by the hissing of shadowed flies that fly into the lost light in my eyes
until my pupils cauterize
locking you inside
institutionalised
and i
am imprisoned in a prism of realism
as anti social collisions have me pulling my soul through verbal incisions
seeping radioactive emissions
from the legions of religions
from the season of rhyme without reason
failure to pay darkened tuitions is now treason
as catastrophic cataclysms lock me away in my primal visions
my verbal inflictions as though holy missions to infuse friction
smashing through my divided contradictions and feeding my addictions
good riddance
Jul 5, 2012
Jul 5, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
these words give my soul
no refuge, no rest, from the
inflictions within
s.q.
.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
for some
their sexuality
is intimately tied
to curves and licks of pain
and their own
abject destruction
trussed, ornate
for a brutality
that accentuates
****** lucidity
in the dark caverns
of a perforceive mind
and o so willing body
which
like bruised piano keys
in a triumphant concerto
of ecstasy
aspires
to be played hard
like Rachmaninoff's
beaten ivories
finding immense pleasure
in constant crises
stretched
between the entwined
demand of desire
and the need
for a
a depraved ritual
of exquisite subservience
imposed
by an idyllic master
sweeten the world
my darling
honey machine
industrious slave
bend my beloved
like the weighted ridge pole
are you ready to break
oh princess
of cruel inflictions
that intoxicate
with onerous dark thrills
the sway of your writhe
where pleasure is piqued
by perfect suffering
blood glitter paradise
she beckons
from hells shadowed doorway
enter my love
enter
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 2:25 PM UTC
At moments, I'm overcome and in awe of my depth of feeling for you.
A simultaneous expansion and contraction draws upon my chest.
Inhale: your presence floods me, most vivid of memories.
Exhale: snap back to reality.
Inhale: the cycle repeats.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 1:56 PM UTC
My wrath could move mountains
Conquer the tallest Titan
Bone shattering like the bite of a crocodile
It's everlasting
Longer the the Nile
When it's unleashed its vile
Jagged
Unpredictable
More unpleasant then a rotten smell
From a corps a flamed in hell
The devil dwells
Swells as he feast
On this beast
Looking to cause pain
It's inflictions are like cuts from a rusted knife
Eyes blood shot red
Logic has fled
The only mission is to hurt
It pours down like ashes from a slumbering volcano
Awaken and anything in its path mistake for a target
Bargaining on failed attempts
The demons swim in the rage
Wraths locks has been weakened an shaken loose
But this only the beginning
The door is still close
Once its open who knows
Jun 15, 2015
Jun 15, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
*Her soul a sky filled
with twinkling stars
eyes two pearly globes
of magnetic innocence
with a red rose fragility
and floret fragrance
even when she carries a
heart dotted with scars
from painful inflictions during
the battles of life
fought and overcome*
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 4:13 PM UTC
Nobody feels the same way,
Although we all feel sore,
With our unique cuts and bruises,
Scratching the cold surface, begging for an end.
Everyone's head is throbbing,
Overwhelmed by too little or too much,
Sailing a broken boat in their own troubled waters,
Searching for a pill customised to their inflictions.
Oct 3, 2015
Oct 3, 2015 at 9:49 AM UTC
I am the master of my destiny,
But it’s difficult to know what I’m destined to be,
So I mastered the skill of poetry in hopes to invest in me.
Thus the power would be vested in me,
And I wouldn’t have to submit to anyone else
To get the best of me.
My words are disturbed,
My belligerent inflictions are deserved,
My fictitious non-fictions are just misheard,
My religious depictions are called absurd,
They rage savagely as they say, “Blasphemy.”
To convey opinions is a task for me,
But if you’re asking me to speak rationally,
Don’t be mad at me, when I ration radically.
My passion was passionately
Passed to me by a God that has to be a part of me,
Or at least partially inside the art part of me.
If He is an entity totally apart from me,
Then why does this feeling remain in my veins?
And please do explain these pains in my
Feet, hands and scalp around my brain.
You say it’s because I’ve been walking all day,
Trying to find my way because I’m lost always,
And all the ways that I take
Bring me back to the same place.
So I sit and write all day until my fingers ache,
In hopes to eradicate my hate and vacate
From this block, city and state
And cop pretty estates.
But writer’s block stops my speedy escape,
I scratch my head until it bleeds to my face.
Still you choose to have hate for my stigmatic fate,
And feel you must take from my ecstatic state,
Just because you frustrate from my enigmatic style,
Then throw sticks and stones to shatter my smile.
Your words won’t hurt,
And flipping the bird don’t work,
And you would never bother to flip through my works.
You just flap your lips and let the whip go berserks,
Until it strips through my soul after it rips through my shirt.
Society is real quick to crucify,
But in this life
It’s do or die
And I refuse to choose to die.
I remember I used to lie
Because my truth was too shy,
But now I’m used to life,
And realize there’s no use to lie.
As I lie on the crucifix these cruel critics fixed upon me,
Just know that I wrote it how it was supposed to be.
Even when I die my fans will be excited to know it’s me,
Resurrected anytime they decide to recite my poetry.
Oct 2, 2010
Oct 2, 2010 at 12:17 AM UTC
The bitter liquor
Of addiction pours out
Of the inflictions that we cast.
The adrenaline
That comes from the thrill
Of gambling
Masturbates the soul.
They act like painkillers,
But in fact they are hunting
Down our chances of recovery.
We cannot let these demons thieve our
Attention away from our mental health,
They will only use us as their food.
We love them,
But they only lust us.
We must put the demons to sleep.
We must drain them of their wealth.
No longer may we let them binge on our suffering.
Nor let them purge out our humanities.
We do not need their
**Nicotine, ****** or coke.**
We must rise above the addiction,
And promise ourselves to never fall again.
n.c.
Mar 8, 2015
Mar 8, 2015 at 11:10 PM UTC
there is room in my heart for you
you, who holds the one that loves you hostage
hostage to the pains and inflictions
of torture you hold in a silver blade
a silver blade composed of truth and lies
melded together in a beautiful engraving
we talked about angels falling
yet the next day you seemed to have forgotten
you threw your heart at the moon
and it landed in australia
you wouldn’t dare to tie it up in a bow
and give it to me in return for the
one wrapped in a present i gave you
it’s desperate and pathetic that my heart
still let’s you in despite the fact-
the fact that you eat hearts for breakfast
after impaling them with the
sharp wings on your eyelids
after telling them you love them
and then running back to your nightshade berry
after cutting the vein and running me dry
you still send surprises
there is room in my heart
but none left of my patience
your malice is too much
for a hazel in the summer
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 11:43 PM UTC
Behind the dress
Is a lost girl
Confused about the world she was born in
She tried to hide her emotions In its attractive style
High above her knees
Her matching underwear you can see
When her dress catches a breeze
Drowned herself in pills
Plague by insomnia
It's hard for her to sleep
Not wanting to die in solitude
A man she met tonight keeps her company
Made sure he saw her
Drew him in with her sweet dress
He asked about her cuts while they lay
They're just inflictions of her past she would say
Jun 11, 2015
Jun 11, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
The ash is damp. The forest, burned.
Possibility falling from my fingertips.
Death and life look so alike,
An angel falls and before me, sits.
Crowds of clouds gather in protest.
Rainstorm, nature's baptism.
Washing Mother's sins away,
The long-awaited cataclysm.
Young woman, standing at his grave.
What's next? What could possibly come next?
Piles of pieces, you know make the whole.
At least they've finally found their way home.
Beneath the city, tucked into catacombs,
Are the secrets that you trust me with.
Your lips press into my self inflictions,
And the marks begin to melt.
A voice enters these chambers
Saying "Angel, what have you done?"
It echoes in the hollowed vacancy of my chest.
I am a stringed instrument.
This is not a time of growth,
Or a step in the forward direction.
This is re-genesis, demolition, catharsis.
Feb 12, 2014
Feb 12, 2014 at 2:15 AM UTC
I took a commemorative drive
Back to a town that glorified the wise
It was 500 miles and three packs of cigarettes
The crisp, burning sound embedded in my head
Endlessly deep trenches
That birthed my inflictions
Created character, said my intentions
To rise above, and destroy pretenses
I went passed those rusty, horrid gates
That allegedly guarded us and kept us safe
Then, I entered the palace, the core of my pain
Where the man stood, stoically and still bound in his chains
He was a deathly entity without any shame
But his smile was deceiving, as if he had changed
“This time” he said, “We won’t die” he tried to explain
But his eyes lied, and his tone was vain
The crisp, burning sound echoed as I left
The man, helpless and distressed
Became nothing more than a substance that
I won’t digest
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 6:40 PM UTC
I love it out here
In the middle of grasslands and
Old houses built on farms
The sky's the limit out here
The air is pure and just right
Giving me crazy ideas about flying and living too
Everything is clear
You may pass 2 cars on the way into town
Dilapidated houses and barns
Scattered all about
They may not be habitable
But they still look homely to me
I'd take this over the smog
And smoke of the cities
That make you choke
Over the people tons and thousands of them
That riddle you with claustrophobia And pretenses with hidden intentions
I'd take the quiet loneliness over the inability to sleep due to noise inflictions
Every. Single. Day. I would choose this breathtaking place
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 2:27 AM UTC
●●●
*foregone time
loneliness in deep silence
awakening in dark long nights
remembrances of beloved ones
while sitting alone
believe me
pleasure and joyfulness
such lively zestfulness
inflictions and predestinations
can only be experience
all together in such
situations*
●●●
©deovrat 23.08.2018
Aug 23, 2018
Aug 23, 2018 at 9:17 AM UTC
I was never
A poet
Until the night you
Taught me the pain
A word
Can bring and now
These words are my only
Defense
And my sharpest
Knives.
My most deadly
Inflictions
Upon my own
Skin
And tonight I bleed out
For you
These words onto
a page
That you will never see
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 11:21 AM UTC
We are all addictions
Impostions and
Inflictions
We are all we do and all we watch
And all we drink
We stand apart from other people
In their happy homes
And church steeples
We are all addicted
We are all addicted
We are all addicted
And we know
That there is hope
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 12:25 AM UTC
Stop, go no further, here lies the bones of the murdered
You don't want to end your life by a place never recorded
Go, pay it forward, go warn those with curious toes to stay in bed
Rather wither away than enter the Kingdom of the Dead
These folks here were like you a me
But the fell for the rouse of an unanswered energy
Oh but the energy is beautiful
Emotionally brutal
Trying and prying it away is futile
Every finger, every cuticle, every office, every cubicle
It left hurricane evacuation towns lootable
It left schools and innocence shootable
It seduced Adolf and Bernie Madof
And Mao to play the inflictions imposed on the civilization supposed to be better off than those who ignored the message
Oh the beauty that lies in the heart of every sinner
This is the Kingdom of the Dead
Do not enter.
Dec 15, 2018
Dec 15, 2018 at 11:45 AM UTC
As my sister escapes so shall my heart run free with her
My thoughts, they mirror her madness and my plight is to offset her world of torture
She thinks far away on another plain
Into societies brackets she fits, some call her insane
How it could have been if not for a genetic malfunction
Forever stood still now, unable to cross the junction
Frustration and anger as life passes her by
I would take all she has so she could one day fly
As kids we would play and i would hear some nasty words that some nasty people would say
****** spastic unwanted freak
But I have always shown empathy for those ignorant and blind, pathetic and meek
She is such a massive part of me and I hope that I am for her
Each day I live with her inflictions
Together we shall overcome lifes restrictions
Thankful to her to be who I am and where I stand
The mist becomes less of a blur holding tight onto my darling sister's hand
She inspires me
She fires me
My sister, my life
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 4:32 PM UTC
Sometimes I laugh at my own misery
My mind forever split in two
The God and the creation
One benevolent and indifferent
The other open to inflictions
When tragedy strikes
One always had the answers
And the other out of breath trying to catch up
But like always, history repeats itself
The creation questions God
Soon my mind's at war
The supposedly complainant part
Making a fuzz about finding this myth called love
For instinct dictates to find holes in the rules
Because how could God know something so human
So I embrace the doubt
Treading boldly into the unknown
With nothing muted
Emotions light my path and i no longer have my Shepard
You can imagine my surprise
When I realised it wasn't the road to what i thought would be my new home
Instead I found myself in the eye of the labyrinth
Lost and terrified
I no longer want to find my new home
I want to be told what to do again
So now I'm looking from afar
At the child weeping on its knees
In the middle of a cruel maze
And yes I'm laughing at its misery.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 6:49 AM UTC
Relentless are those dark forces that have no intentions on stopping the attacks.
Constantly Reminding one of the inflictions from the past.
A mindset of decision making is a powerful thing. Wavering is a fools game.
Be sure those decisions don't Jam you up.
One wrong move and those forces are on you like white on rice.
Battling self and its lustful desires to assume control over self is a must.
Remembering the flesh desires what is contrary.
We may think our motives are right, but in the end we must remain well aware of the deception around us.
Sorting through life to find what's true or what's false. A replica may be in the midst of it all.
Hope, Love, or FAITH should never leave you.
Keeping these close; Massive Knowledge can be gained.
Endure!!! Be shrewd, all while being as innocent as a dove.
Mar 23, 2022
Mar 23, 2022 at 2:12 AM UTC
The boulevard is hollow with sounds
of a shadow falling down,
caresses late night 2 in-the-morning
as he's roaming with no purpose
but to be found
homeless yet under dark canopies' night
no wakeful eyes
with their human curiosity can witness
the part-time employment
of a piece of meat...
He has lost count of years,
the self-deluded reasons behind why
still alive
his feet are numb
his senses save for scent & tastelessness
have intertwined
as destitute as cruel as thirst
/ un-cared for
used for last, far from first...
oh where to go, and how to get there
what to do when kind arrives?
with dust of too many past lives
he's fabricated a coat of armor
dementia for his steed he rides
with shield of quick words remiss of wit
dagger of harsh emotions
self inflictions like a whip
the truth is
there's no such thing as happy endings
for a thing like him
piece of meat at markets
that cater to the web
to the beasts...
A piece of meat has no story
when it is consumed
to fill the hunger of insatiable eschewing
like teeth of wolves sharply chewing
with the voracity of fierce
unfed hunters killers thieves
for them it is easiest to capture
the **** who is blind
than discover that their food
in it’s short lived time
had a life,
complicated lack of voice
complete with name and face and choice
suddenly the price has its admission
into existence
how to consume the friend now known?
or infect another now
reflecting the flesh of brother...
There is always a choice
to be
what it is you make
yourself
see...
because you see:
"no eyes doth have a piece of meat"
Apr 29, 2016
Apr 29, 2016 at 2:00 AM UTC