"insidiously" poems
we damage our feet
squeezing into stilettos
we pluck our eyebrows
we polish our toes
we **** in our stomachs
afraid of what the scales will show
we scrub ourselves with a thousand lotions
spray ourselves with perfumes
it's as if we need to be sanitised
from the dirtiness that we learnt from the womb
from all the messages that we've consumed
messages insidiously obscuring the truth
Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 11:30 AM UTC
You knocked
I opened the door, in you came.
At first you felt safe
as you settled in, familiarised yourself
with my space
with my most intimate belongings.
Then you slowly but determinedly vandalised my space.
I asked you to stop, to leave.
Each time you went out the front door
you insidiously returned through the back door
when I was not looking.
You burglarised my heart, my soul, my mind.
Your lies and deception became my super glue
You knew it and you abused it.
I wasn’t swift enough to get away.
At first we were easy, as time went on
a knot formed in my stomach.
Tightening and tightening
I never knew what was next.
You locked me into your deception.
Fierce enough to keep me where you wanted,
as you wanted.
You walked away no better than a con-artist,
A thief
A thief of my heart, my soul, my mind
You know what you did
Now I see it clearly
I will take you on
As I find my feet again
And regain my space
My resolve
To face you in a court of law
To challenge your abuse of my soul and mind.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
Days become better
Days become bitter
Last month I was happy
This month I am unkind.
The fog steals me away.
When the days are good
I wonder to myself
"When will it start slipping?
I know too well it is coming soon."
Then morning comes
And I feel a slight fog
insidiously creeping
darkening my mind.
Suddenly the sun doesn't shine as bright.
Suffocating air catches in my throat
And my heart is an awful weight in my chest.
on the verge of exploding,
Thumping harder.
Pumping bad blood.
Hot and sick.
All I have to do is open my eyes to see
that things are not what they should be,
And an overwhelming feeling of hopelessness
blankets me in my own disappointments.
Soon enough the days will become brighter.
It will be easier to live in my skin,
And the fog will ebb out.
But I know it hasn't disappeared.
The fog is just waiting.
It will be back.
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 12:59 PM UTC
Time’s ominous perpetual precipice looms,
Darkly beckoning with gilded motives.
The student’s curse worming insidiously throughout the best intentions
The enemy’s ticking fingers foreshadow their fate,
But like blinded deer, we frolic obliviously,
Blissfully remiss in our duty as the forgiven.
Twilight nears, but we are still frozen in the sun.
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
An army of plastic fellows shelter from the pouring rain.
Hiding under shrubs and trees.
Guarding the garden insidiously.
They're on patrol again.
Sat by the pond, musing.
Nattering in their lingo gnome.
Unheard by ears of men.
They watch nature in balance.
Peeping at the trees.
Guarding their mothers security.
Mother Nature gives them trees, and grass and bumble bees.
Go out for a while, come back and smile.
They carried out with precision all the garden chores.
Come rain or shine, they live out doors.
Those gnomes took control of the garden their home.
They leave you a job, you come out with your mower.
They are a touch to small.
They can however, *** and ****
When they're in your garden, they are, they sow the seeds.
They natter to each other in their own sweet dulcet tones.
After carrying out security.
They're still just garden gnomes!
(c) Livvi
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 4:52 AM UTC
“maybe in another life, louis,” i finally said, staring off at the distant city lights and buildings, feeling the cold creep insidiously into my bones. his name easily rolled off my tongue like a reflex — a muscle memory so deep-seated and yet so strange and unfamiliar now.
silence filled the air and yet, at the same time, it was filled with other things — defeat, heartbreak, resignation, the sounds of vehicles speeding off. the pain gnawing in my gut. the regretful yearning. the need to just be stupid and reach out for his hand. the pain of knowing i couldn’t. the finality of the ending.
and yet, here we stood, too close and too far.
he nodded and stirred lightly, as if preparing to leave. my gaze shifted into his direction. his movements, still slow and graceful, and lit by the moon. it was almost too painful, almost too delicate, almost too poetic. i could still remember what falling in love with him was like. i could still remember him breaking my heart for the first time, until the time where there are no more pieces left to break. and i would’ve done it all again.
he finally spoke, bringing me back to reality. it was almost too soft, too weak, but i heard it.
“maybe in another life.”
Dec 8, 2019
Dec 8, 2019 at 10:24 PM UTC
FLAMES from furious friends fighting ferocious fears, forever forging faithful fellowship.
INCESSANTLY incinerating iniquity in inner-selves. Ineffably influencing introspective introverts.
RISING rapidly.
radically rupturing rectitude rampantly, ravaging rancour.
ENDLESSLY eclipsing earthly ecstacy.
Eliciting elation.
Feb 19, 2015
Feb 19, 2015 at 2:32 PM UTC
You stood in the limelight
before a shaft of blazing luminescence
emitted from the zenith positioned
matrix of all energy
The brightness illuminated your
radiant countenance
as blackness enveloped around your
structures as in a early baroque
by Rembrandt
Your form was made from the finest
materials
But your representatives stood in defiance going beyond
their eroded gardens and
trampled vegetation and beast
underfoot; even defecated plutonium
in my backyard
and belched various gases in my face
Luxury is still your ideology;
all to sure in obtaining
unlimited resources
You are still heavily consuming
the best
still maintaining the frivolous notion
that all is well
never anticipating
that time passes into the future
The shaft of blazing sunlight
has insidiously been replaced
by a blinding interrogation lamp
as darkness licks at your morals
and creeps upon your very being
small cracks are now being discovered upon your once lovely face
No longer can you obtain desirous
riches as readily
as options become minimized,
while playing and bullying a winning serious game of monopoly
against poor countries
Panic is beginning to take hold
as reality overcomes frivolity
You are starting to run,
you have already left one of your golden combat boots
in Vietnam; later pirated black gold
from Mesopotamia
under perjury and severed our nation with the fascistic sword of xenophobia,
and plundered the spirits, at home, and other innocent minorities unjustly
And nationalised yourself from a continent to an island regressing
into itself; homogenized into exceptionalism and the nervous propagandized
gnashing of Caucasian teeth
But doubtless to say
there is no reason
for a prince to save you
because you have gotten too old,
much too corporatised,
too corrupted, too soon, too fast,
YOU MUST SAVE YOURSELF!!
And I know you can
And I know you can
be that lady with that beacon torch of hope...once...again
And whence comes the nourishment of love that flourishes once more...
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 6:58 PM UTC
*Silent Killer,
A Predator’s Smile,
A Guise Engulfed In Disguise,
A Child of Immaculate Torment,
Her Diamond Lies, Insidiously Advent.
Lost In Her Radiations,
Trapped In Her Demented Seductions,
Fenced By Her Hype,
Immersed In Her Gripe.
As The Clicker Goes Down,
The Ideals Start To Facedown,
As I Cauterize In Her Suicides,
Ashes Divide,
Weeping For Absolution,
Filled With Consternation,
Her Angel Eye’s Smirk, As I Charred Alive,
Screams Slowly Vanishing In Void,
Devoid Dismantled,
Lured By Her Lust,
Transcending To Dust....
- 03:07AM*
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 4:37 PM UTC
I'm known for navel-gazing my way to elation,
and am living in a country caught within
the grips of frenzied matriculation.
My insidiously
malapert generation,
my incessantly
malcontent gene-nation.
This is a Garden of Eden,
Where is our guard of Eden?
carefully removing
all who are not heathen.
Plucking the clouded excess from an already crowded bed of hegemony, as a gardener would and so should.
It is a mirage, a far off oasis of Arcadia and
I say this all unconcernedly, a basis for this absurdity.
I have stolen my ego from god,
I will carry this yoke readily,
and I shall take up my axe doling out mechanically.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 11:03 PM UTC
When its sharp it storms the mind,
swirls of smoke & hate combined-
slither insidiously they entwine,
damage done worse every time.
Clouds to crave- poison waves
seen through white glass & a delirious daze
to dull forever an old sun's rays
light which used to shine out always
now bends inward, refracting in ways
to disguise & confuse in an camouflaged haze.
more & more & more & more
of the curse that never ends,
be it smoke or crystal spore
or snake disguised as friend.
I feel it deep within my core
I desperately pretend
you'll be back to fuel me or
a hand someone will lend.
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 1:53 AM UTC
I orbit myself a
cyclical pattern
No Beginning No End
an elliptical motion
Enigma at Center
reflections of three....
me at the helm...
Space... time, gravity.
A singular pluralism of exponential eternity as infinitesimal minutiae
govern the ******
Not by lancing their eyes,
but insidiously
locking them in darkness,
like masses are meant to be.
But no... not me... as
my gift of perspective
has illuminated space ...
to spectate the rats
scrambling scrambling
to win the race.
Aug 7, 2018
Aug 7, 2018 at 11:34 PM UTC
Water seeping through the cracks of the hull,
Creeping ever so insidiously.
Filling the voids, but my fate is sealed.
I sink.
Resentment floods my thoughts,
Quenching my thirst for vindication,
And I feel that time will cure all, yet…
I sink.
I’m clinging on to flotsam and jetsam
Drifting by, remnants of my pride.
But the waves keep battering, and
I sink.
Seventy times seven is too large of a
Number, or so I think.
How to rid of the anchor tethered to
My heel?
I sink.
Letting go of that anchor, a painful process.
You may have skinned me alive,
But I forgive you.
For if I don’t, I’ll sink to the depths
Of misery…. alone.
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 9:06 PM UTC
A few ways exist
Where green growth
can destroy what was
If large tree grows near
Cutting it down will ..
Definitely do what it does
But the shattering thump
When that plan is used is...
Ow! we ended up with trump
And a beautiful tree now dead
When we randomly destroy
There's no correcting a path
There's just all in ..no fold
Or with neglect what was
Can be insidiously done in
By the green growth of mold
But go ahead and lump all
Together left and right as 1
Not seeking any offshoots
Because the best method
To contol the destruction
Sit in shade , encourage growth guiding the offshoot
To become those mighty roots
That's how you save the tree ,stay cool , deny the insidious parasites growth
And then .....you can
with strong roots and decent Foundation have a stable structure
and ...
something to build on.
Or you can just burn it all down
letting Anarchy prevail
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
******* Bandit time is lost
A gone forever shroud,
Elusive as an errant fog
That’s slipped into a cloud.
Elusive as a crystal shard
Mixed secretly with sand,
You know the shard’s apparent
When It lacerates your hand.
Time lacerates your senses
Like sand between the toes,
It’s there and then it vanishes
Like vapored mist it flows.
Insidiously sneaky
In the way it sidles up
And gallops past like mercury,
Frustration's heady cup.
Were there ways to vanquish time
To pause it in limbo,
I would celebrate with agelessness
And a glass of fine merlot.
I would savour every nuance
And roll it on my tongue
For the taste of piquant victory
Is a toast to battle won.
Marshalg
@ the Gate
Mangere Bridge
19th January 2009
Feb 20, 2010
Feb 20, 2010 at 1:34 AM UTC
Easy-going energy moguls at Exxon Mobil,
Insidiously sip scotch in their ivory towers,
They take no blame for the blame is ours,
We, the worker bees, were employed to **** the soil,
Little did we know it was the hallowed ground under our very own families feet,
Now we look towards our homes and see nothing but ash and hell fire,
Our collective youth and countless hours of precious life,
Traded for false abundance and counterfeit wealth,
When it all burns will you still care about your bank account?
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
Days have ventured by
haphazard-quick
but nevertheless captious
opinionated as a castrated casuist
numb but brain-ready over-drive
constant thickened thoughts
for the next fix...
Whatever city you befriend
whatever your home,
boulevard far or closer Strip
or Suburbia ever-green
she is easy to find
anyone looking
a dirge in their eyes...
As much as one
would like to disappear
with sniffing silence that comes
when the nose itches white wishes
or lungs
burn to breathe
cacophony...
Days will drag on
insect insidiously
all the while, she waits
to enliven Saturday night conversations
becomes geode-gibberish
gladness
from a tunnel of a dollar bill
a straw
she knows / she stands in
whatever city you befriend
whatever your home
she speaks your dry tongue
a language that weeps
escapism
embolism...
She is very forgiving:
the space between numb
& living.
Nov 11, 2016
Nov 11, 2016 at 1:25 PM UTC
Behind the smile lurks insecurity,
Within the eyes hid pain,
All living there insidiously,
Within the heart lay dreams,
Visual images that in head space dwell,
Seen when the body is awake,
When the clock ticks magic moments,
Resounding tick tock echoes,
Sounds all rattle through my brain,
Somewhat irrepressible,
The clock reminds me I'm alive,
Hearing all it's comments,
One thing I have noticed,
The clocks all sing in perfect time,
They start to sing so loudly,
Still in their perfect harmony,
When all alarms invade,
Announcing in their irksome serenade,
In unison screaming out in not so dulcet tones
Get up and make your tea....,
Very abruptly, very soon,
Another work day's calling thee!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 1:35 AM UTC
How do we escape?
This prison isn't steel,
iron,
even simple sticks.
These bars are made of bone,
wrapped in pleasure,
flesh.
Bound in nerves,
veins.
My prison is pulsing,
beating.
I know it's a trap,
a misconception,
but even so it's tempting
to live in the moment,
to do what gratifies me
here,
now.
My body is a traitor,
fallen,
demanding,
insidiously reaching.
Feb 2, 2012
Feb 2, 2012 at 11:23 PM UTC
You stood in the limelight
before a shaft of blazing light
emitted from the zenith positioned
matrix of all energy
The brightness illuminated your radiant countenance
as blackness enveloped around your structures as in an early baroque by Rembrandt
Your form was made from the finest materials
But your representatives stood in greedy defiance going beyond their eroded gardens and trampled vegetation and beasts underfoot, even defeacated plutonium in my backyard
and belched various gases in my face
Luxury is your ideology,
all too sure in obtaining
unlimited resources
You are still heavily consuming the best
still maintaining the frivolous notion
that all is well
never anticipating
that time passes into the future
The shaft of blazing sunlight
has insidiously been replaced
by a blinding interrogation lamp
as darkness licks at your morals
and creeps upon your very being
No longer can you obtain desirous
things as readily
as options become minimized
Panic is beginning to take hold
as reality overcomes frivolity
You are starting to run,
you have already left one of
your expensive golden combat-boots
in Vietnam; later pirated black gold from Mesopotamia
under perjury
But doubtless to say
there is no reason
for a prince to save you
because you have gotten too old,
much too corporatized,
too corrupted, too soon, too fast,
YOU MUST SAVE YOURSELF!!
And I know you can
And I know you can
be that lady with that torch again...
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 1:53 PM UTC
Often wondering did I fall for someone like you ??
I wonder ....
How I coudnt read through that perfect mask of devilry ,
that was laced with impregnable tenderness and chivalry .
I wonder ....
How you kept wounding me insidiously like a double edged sword ,
I not knowing countless pieces of me shattered for the record .
I wonder ....
How like a diseased infection you for me brewed malice ,
Inspite I kept infusing your venomous love into my every nerve and segment ...
Coz baby " your love is my drug "
I'm ADDICTED TO YOU .
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 1:17 PM UTC
Why do I bother with the anticipation of love (lust).
No escaping the pain. One way or the other.
Roulette at its finest.
The love for family burns holes in my heart.
Romantic love burns like cigarettes on the flesh.
Searing the skin right before your eyes.
Sometimes you can smell your smoldering ignited flesh.
Other times in sneaks up behind and the *********** leaves you paralyzed.
Insidiously leaving venom in your veins.
The pain may never disipate.
Apr 1, 2020
Apr 1, 2020 at 11:37 AM UTC
An old house sits in the deep-wood heart
of the ancient forest-fen.
It's crumbling stones fall farther 'eryday into
the appointed state of sad decay.
But why?! For does not the hope of man rest
upon 'ery brick atop another, on 'ery cottage,
'ery palace, 'ery shack in misty glen?
For these are the bricks of civilization, my dearest
heart.
So shore up the trembling walls, prop up the
rotting rafters! For do we not, in this one act,
prop up our tradition, our civilization, nay
very lives of the People?
But no. For see the climbing vines, creeping insidiously,
through the mossy stone wall? See the mildew on the rafter
beams, the fungi on the hearth?
We all go to the ground, whether man or beast, or stick
or stone. Whether tree or shrub or mistletoe, we all go
back to the ground.
I am old, my sweet, and I fear the day's not far,
when my lids slide closed,(or don't, who knows?)
and I'm walking Deaths cold halls.
I beg you Rose, my sweetest flower, don't put
me in the stone. Just bury me the old fashioned
way, in dirt and rotting leaves.
For I couldn't bear, to be buried there, in the cold
And crumbling stone.
"From dust I came, and to dust I shall go, at the end of things,
or at least, at the end of me."
Dec 20, 2014
Dec 20, 2014 at 11:38 AM UTC
Animosity allergens,
dark as the Dracula’s dungeon,
insidiously infects the heart.
Vivacity begins to part.
In the realm of my subconscious,
I've confronted my madness.
There’s a monster in me that should die-
my morale withered and dry.
My spirit polluted with hate-
toxic as organophosphates.
The psyche is a perpetrator
who lusts for the power of ******
Drowning in the depths of darkness
of my wild imagination,
I’m shocked by this revelation!
The epiphany of my evil-
influenced by the vile devil,
my ego- sinful and gruesome.
Dear Lord, what have I become?
Jan 9, 2019
Jan 9, 2019 at 9:49 AM UTC
I am speaking to my future me.
You love your wife, Adyson.
I know when the demons come back with more force than the last time, this thought enters your mind:
"Divorce your wife, this is unhealthy."
The truth is, you're unhealthy. I know it's raw, but it's the truth. You are too consumed with yourself to even know the difference.
You see, at this close of 2017 you looked to your right and told her:
"I am happy."
See, you're happy because she's the only one you have that truly understands you. How do I know?
Take a good guess, I know you can do it.
I'm guessing there's a good chance that she's feeling exactly the same way, or worse.
You're taking a trip right now. You're stable tonight. Addy is stable tonight. You're driving to Keith's (or writing here on these pages mucking up your handwriting...) to be with your family and friends. Good friends. Going to get ********* and hoping to black out.
And you're blessed to have your soulmatage right next to you, smoking chillum **** and "Natural" American Spirit cigarettes, and sipping on Mtn Dew. It's 2:17am, and you're about to ride the Music Express because it is picking up speed. No sleep for you tonight.
Your mind is not clear. Next time you think to divorce your wife, hold onto that thought, because by doing so, you're giving yourself time. Time is key.
If you feel that you should divorce your wife when you're well enough to have a clear perspective, then maybe you should consider it.
Depression and mixed states will lie to you, insidiously, and without mercy. No mercy.
I'm willing to bet at this point, however, that when your demon is back to sleep, if only for a minute, you'll only have to look to your left while in bed in order to cultivate your prior burning love for her.
For she loves you and you love her ... to death, even beyond your current living death. Rest assured, my good man, that it will end. Just give it time.
Take a break. Go to sleep. Turn off your life for a moment, it'll help. The decision to take your pills is up to you, but consider taking them, too. They will probably help.
Don't forget to hug your wife though.
Good night.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 4:17 AM UTC