"lambaste" poems
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.
My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.
A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.
A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.
Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.
A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.
Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.
Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.
Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.
A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.
A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)
A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.
A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.
A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.
An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.
A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.
A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.
Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.
A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.
Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
A cave crawls into me, turns inside out,
Captures my heart and saves my skin for last.
Slimy shadows spread like faith to doubt.
Is this the Jungian Shadow here to lambaste
While all the photons of the sun depart
As quickly as they come--an original sin--
And stop my thinking like Rene Descartes,
Affronting twistless logic like particle spin?
Now perceiving nothing it must exist,
Like Freud with OCD made Oedipus blind--
Becoming nothing nothing can resist.
Finally into earth my mind confined:
Create in me a ***** heart, o earth.
Perhaps a worm will have a ****** birth.
Feb 3, 2012
Feb 3, 2012 at 12:51 PM UTC
She is olive.
A tan-skinned Jasmine.
A rare earth metal;
and jewel-encrusted.
Sepia crescent moons
Dart at me. And then away.
A velvet petal.
My spine crumbles; rusted.
And when she negotiates a lone fold,
it
babbles
down
to her shoulders
and comes to rest
across nape and breast.
As if immune;
she
never
resisted.
She manipulates this simple tuck,
and every lesson, line, lecture, lash and lambaste in my language or hers is gone and has never existed.
This only tuck,
that single fold;
who gives a ****
Or so I've been sold.
Her hair is coveted;
linens for kings.
It gleams in my den,
near unworthy things.
Jun 27, 2011
Jun 27, 2011 at 9:46 PM UTC
Specious speculative salacious spectral season
Transmogrify trapezium traverse torsion treason
Erotica errantry erectile endogenic emblazon
Ghastly gnashy grotesque gristly garrison
Larcenous lecherous lascivious latent lesson
Entelechy ethology exsistentialize extant epsilons
Spurious spry squabble subtle specialization
Transient transitive tour de force teleportation
Encephala enunciate endeavor executant emulation
Garish gaudy gambit glitch granulation
Lurid livid liaison limpid laceration
Extravaganza expletives expeditious equilibration emendation
Sly stodgy surreptitious spatiotemporal solicitor
Taciturn tactile transcendent tertiary torpor
Euphoria eminent equivocal exserted emancipator
Garrulous gustatory gung ** gestational gesticulator
Lyricism lilt liberation lambaste levitator
Escutcheon exergonic epaulet exodus extrapolator
Starkness staunch spectacle stolid stultification
Telepathy tantamount tractive tellurian transmutation
Exonerate euthenics exegesis entourage eradication
Groaty gnarly gruesome gristly gastrulation
Licentious lewd lacunar laconic limitation
Extemporaneous exigency embark embargo extradition
Slinky slick sultry stoical snout
Transubstantiate torturous temerarious tumultuous tout
Eucharist extortion enmity epithet eke out
Gross grit groin grove grout
Lentic leister lotic lothario levity lout
Execrating eventuation evocative evitable excerpt bout
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Your anonymous blog
To my face you are kindness itself:
cheerful, always upbeat,
but in your anonymous blog
you rip me apart.
You press your thumb and forefinger on each side,
hold, pull and rend,
and rupture my very innards.
You focus on me,
my life, my words, my actions and my body
like you are a Celestron Telescope
searching for every single crater and irregularity.
With an Ultima Barlow lens
and your Leica M9 18MP
You grab each natural image
and then rearrange reality with
your precious, perversely pesuasive, periscopic Photoshop technique.
poetic liberty has leased you a license to assassinate,
humiliate,
decimate,
invalidate,
severely lambaste,
and mockingly castrate
everything that I identify as me.
literary freedom allows you to liberally fabricate,
mutilate,
denigrate,
incriminate,
scathingly castigate,
and maliciously urinate
on what others think of me.
To my face you are kind beyond selflessness,
but on your online beat,
your anonymous malevolence
sets you apart
from all the others
that have ever wanted
to write me up,
put me down,
and publish me out.
– Zumwalt (2011) (copied from www.zumpoems.com)
Aug 22, 2011
Aug 22, 2011 at 8:53 AM UTC
Child, your cry reminds me of my pain
So intense, fruitless and without any gain,
In my mother's womb, I bled my last
Memories of me aborted angers me to lambaste.
I hoped to taste the joy of being born
And caressed like any other child's horn,
But mother did you ever love this child
To have denied him access to your guide?
Hope you gave me when you thought to bare this child
Little wonder I choose a mother like you as my guide,
What then went wrong to have my blood shed?
So innocent a child you gave me no chance to be loved.
On you alone, I placed all my hope and trust
In your womb I thought to avoid rust,
But mother did you hate me that much your own son
To have a harmless child suffer the scorch of abortion?
Mother, you gave me no reason for my crime
To have loved and chosen a mother like mine,
With your hands you murdered your own blood
Oh mother, why the cruelty on this child whom you never did curd?
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 11:33 AM UTC
There is an inch of sleight in this house – this cold chair,
a burst of cologne clogging a 20 minute stride. The stringent
air tonight blusters deeper than gashing sheens.
The little dryad of dew outside and the cadenza of frogs
after lambaste of rain. Whenever you sing, your voice
communes an immense pain, something unconscious of its
gravity, something that levitates back to momentary ululations
swelling in the grime of times and heady chances. A long stretch
of a day submerged in silence resembling a howl underwater.
There will be many sorrows and they will take form of doves,
assume the skin of the populace. They will come in a volume of
names pressing the linoleumed musk the way the body turns
maneuvering over the saltine, the mattress, juxtaposed to a lover,
a brusque aroma of coffee brushing away the calm demeanor
of the morning, dragging along the weight of its lassitude
towards the sprays of fern opening a dense ornate of forget,
you, in all places that pulse without recall – an obtuse
fish feeling its life in a surge of blue, overtime, finally knowing
what it means to sing and drone only words.
Feb 3, 2016
Feb 3, 2016 at 10:20 AM UTC
The lavender pie he swiped from the tables
gave way to many creating tall fables
they ran down the corridor, looking for more
giggling and romping until they were sore
running through the library and lush gardens proper
leaving behind nothing but messes to topper
he and his friends saw no end in sight
until one of the staff gave them a terrible fright
"you'll leave The Gem Hotel with nothing but haste
before I send for the constable to come and lambaste"
it seems peering eyes had thrown things awry
when the dishwasher had seen him pilfer the pie
they hid in a room, large and ornate
so large in fact, they could not berate
as the echoes of the mob could be heard from their gait
their fates to be held by a simple-something they ate
the friction was taught, so tight it could tear
until one of them noticed a phone behind a chair
"quickly, I have a plan" he said and rung the front desk
ring
"we bewail our actions, were nothing but pests"
"meet us out front and we'll put this to rest"
"How will we know this isn't a test to best?"
"I'll be in the window with no other guests"
clink
So he stood in the 2nd story window with defiant disruption
as the crowd who had gathered went into full bore eruption
cheers and wails a mixed bag of admiration
as rumors of the scamps had swirled from the situation
his friends slipped outside as he looked up at the sky
"All of this over a little purple pie?"
jump
Aug 21, 2020
Aug 21, 2020 at 10:58 AM UTC
I am battered daily by your lack of empathy
Lambaste, I am your silent child.
And still I strive for your cardinal need;
For as long as someone is receiving my desires
I am not fully broken.
Am I?
Dec 21, 2010
Dec 21, 2010 at 1:17 PM UTC
do what makes you happy
and the rest be ******
forget the critics
the naysayers
the reviews
forget those who pounce
at first glance with
unsolicited feedback
forget those who wait
with serrated edges
for the unveiling
of your back
forget those who lambaste
and castrate your creativity
or worse, those who
try to help you
improve it
and then there are those who
uplift and support your work
say thank you
and
forget them
too.
forget about polishing the knobs
off the editors of poesy or
the literary brotherhood
and sisterhood
forget about your friends,
your enemies and
your audience
all together
they are a cough drop
trying to cure an illness
do it
the way it was meant to be done:
without obtrusion
without approval
without asking
don’t allow them
to cloud your mind
with judgment
of any kind
do what makes you happy
and the rest be ******
Dec 31, 2024
Dec 31, 2024 at 10:42 AM UTC
I hear them like the wind
They whistle pain and terror
I always feel like I sinned
Like my life is an error
Making me hide behind a mask
Shatter these voices like glass
They tell me she doesn’t love me
And that one mistake and it’s over
Sending me off, lost at sea
But I know she is my true lover
My relief from life’s lambaste
Shatter these voices like glass
More they whisper that I am alone
That my friends lie and are fake
But I know not to listen to this drone
Because to their words I awake
Realizing life isn’t some hellish task
Shatter these voices like glass
Imbecile! Idiot! Failure! Wrong!
I hear them scream causing conflict
But really I realize that all along
I don’t need to be perfect
For I am a human who does matter
Perfect glass I choose to SHATTER!
Jul 4, 2016
Jul 4, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
When we set forth, the breeze blew fair,
The sun shone balmy, warm.
Our sheets were fixed; sail filled with air,
No warning of the storm.
Our crew of two, so cheerfully,
With confidence untried,
Thought we could lick the strongest sea
And still enjoy the ride.
In dinghy small: in ocean great
Our tiny course still true.
We charted stars to navigate;
From Heaven took our cue.
And so we cruised for many years,
Successful in our tour.
With frequent laughter, scarcer tears,
The partnership secure.
But one night when the stars were gone
And clouds obscured our view,
A gust surprised us, struck head-on
And blew the mast askew.
In darkness thick, with rising surge,
We struggled with the sail.
The waves now threatened to submerge
Our vessel in the gale.
We could not see to douse or reef
And so we grappled, blind;
Our crew of two, in disbelief
Left buoyancy behind.
The dinghy tossed like wreckage now
And, hope so far from sight,
We tried once more and then, somehow,
Our crew began to fight.
Through foam and froth and swelling wave
Our agitation grew.
Each violent blast a cause to rave,
To quarrel, stage a coup.
Our crew of two, now one-on-one,
Not just against the squall
Attacked each other ‘til undone,
A rebel’s free-for-all.
So will we drown in waters vast
This tempest take our souls?
And, sinking, will we still lambaste
Each other’s weak controls?
Or could we, if we changed our tack
And pulled together, firm,
Outlast this storm, this inky black,
Our partnership affirm?
Oh, please, let’s try, although the sky
Above is dire and grim.
You take an oar and so will I,
Together scull and skim.
I’ll call you “Captain;” call me “Mate.”
We’ll rally, make amends.
And, crew of two, we’ll navigate
This stormy night as friends.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 8:23 PM UTC
There once was a man named Timmy who was found in a well
What a terrible Smell
resuscitated by dog
Who was a fraud
Never was the same
but who's to blame
He couldn't help the disgrace
From his family's lambaste
He never had a chance shot out of the womb
Landing on his head with a big kaboom
His daddy was his uncle too
For Timmy was f----d up by age two
Timmy roams the hood
Like a ********** would
Looking for a trick
to do him real quick
He don't care
Because he's about to go bare
Dope makes the pain go away
For a while anyway
Waiting for his check in the mail
So he can exhale
Timmy gets high
So he can fly
Because all his pain
Is a drain
His family through him in the well
Because of a dry spell
Mar 17, 2017
Mar 17, 2017 at 9:01 AM UTC
i arrogantly imagine
rain (splayed on the pavement) as something
too short to ****** with, in plea, so as to say that
genuflecting on a field of budding roses suddenly
blooms wide-eyed skies so brazenly, an aperture that
winks not abruptly to shed tear.
somewhere along the lambaste,
humidity takes form of a nauseating swathe
of demise and immediately, in transit, comes back,
a cold, haranguing wind – something borrowed,
something ephemeral, something that causes trouble
to the frail gestures of a rose, or a child in consummate siesta,
or simply the sudden intone of a band bursting midway
through the sullen thoroughfare –
colors seem to intensify, the world inflamed like
a contusion, the wind like a gaff maneuvering the
trees, and I, lost in somnolence, can only remember so much
of the afternoons lost wandering about nothing
when rain has happened and nothing existed before me
but the braille of seasons and the obsequious shadow
swayed by nothing but light’s silent radio; much like heaven
and I, here on Earth,
looking out in the rain;
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
Specious speculative salacious spectral season
Transmogrify trapezium traverse torsion treason
Erotica errantry erectile endogenic emblazon
Ghastly gnashy grotesque gristly garrison
Larcenous lecherous lascivious latent lesson
Entelechy ethology exsistentialize extant epsilons
Spurious spry squabble subtle specialization
Transient transitive tour de force teleportation
Encephala enunciate endeavor executant emulation
Garish gaudy gambit glitch granulation
Lurid livid liaison limpid laceration
Extravaganza expletives expeditious equilibration emendation
Sly stodgy surreptitious spatiotemporal solicitor
Taciturn tactile transcendent tertiary torpor
Euphoria eminent equivocal exserted emancipator
Garrulous gustatory gung ** gestational gesticulator
Lyricism lilt liberation lambaste levitator
Escutcheon exergonic epaulet exodus extrapolator
Starkness staunch spectacle stolid stultification
Telepathy tantamount tractive tellurian transmutation
Exonerate euthenics exegesis entourage eradication
Groaty gnarly gruesome gristly gastrulation
Licentious lewd lacunar laconic limitation
Extemporaneous exigency embark embargo extradition
Slinky slick sultry stoical snout
Transubstantiate torturous temerarious tumultuous tout
Eucharist extortion enmity epithet eke out
Gross grit groin grove grout
Lentic leister lotic lothario levity lout
Execrating eventuation evocative evitable excerpt bout
Mar 4, 2020
Mar 4, 2020 at 10:11 PM UTC