"loathing" poems
I, dip my fingers in your honey sweet sap.
Steering your emotions with sensations of passion.
Loathing the moments in between, with the patience of a feind;
for the instant our flesh meet;
then going far in between --
filling your blossom with seed,
releasing you of your need.
Embraced by your fragrance,
entranced by the scent,
of your bitter sweet, sweetness,
both heaven sent --
dripping from my tip,
the essence of your tenderness.
entrenched by your loveliness.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 8:40 PM UTC
He swells swollen with pleasures loathing
her walls anticipate hard measures imploding
the crash of his body
sending waves of pleasure
into her current
his throws of passion
deepen her depths
to depths unmeasured
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 6:24 PM UTC
Dripping with wetness
Tongue licking your wet lips
Drips dripping as his mouth slips
Your back curves as her waist dips
Sliding inside your precipice,
warm licks melt her core
his length stretch her sore
Soothing strong loathing
Between your legs; imploding
Fingers explore
tendons screaming
lions yearning for more
folds of flesh mesh
tongue swirling
in juices fresh
Fingers twirling
insides tense
destination distinguished
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC
I've been tired lately,
When I'm tired it shows up on my face,
And in my body language,
Like a bold flashing sign,
Topped with puffy eyes and weak shoulders,
I've been fighting lately,
With the world and with other people,
To be recognized for who I am now,
Not what I did before,
And I've been fighting with her too,
The old, younger me,
Caught up in her surroundings,
Too focused on what went wrong,
Never looking forward and so never moving on,
Who just wouldn't let up on me,
"You're not good enough,"
I know that,
"You're not good enough,"
Okay I know that, but,
"You're not good enough."
Well you know what?
That's not good enough.
I can't use that,
There is no benefit to that kind of thinking,
Fear of rejection,
Fear of success,
Those are not good enough reasons to keep me in critical condition,
Self-loathing is not good enough for me.
It's not good enough for anybody.
"You're not good enough."
Says who?
Oct 26, 2013
Oct 26, 2013 at 1:07 AM UTC
Don't discriminate
Just don't do it
All it is, is hate
Hate is made out of other hate
and hate only fuels more hatred
You pour gasoline on a blaze of loathing
with every discriminatory comment you make
It doesn't matter
if they have done something you believe is wrong
because you have done many things that are wrong too
it is not for you to judge
so black white brown both or polka dotted for all I care
gay les straight bi or into adhesive sloths (we adhesified furry little sloths need a little love too)
man or woman or sloth
punk emo crazy nerdy weird loser REALLY weird bookworm or literal worm sloth or adhesive sloths (like me)
nature freak or homebody
axe murderer or a cereal killer or a cheerio killer
it does not matter who or what they are
they are all human too. or all sloths. that too.
Just don't discriminate
and share the slothified love of adhesiveness
accept everyone as they are
even if they hang from trees and move in slow motion all day like me
even if they are rocks
because rocks are great
in fact this one time, I found this rock and man, it was absolutely hilarious it should have been a stand up comedian
okay well not a STAND UP comedian, because I mean... rocks can't actually stand up... but like a really hard and Sedimentary roundish stone shaped sit down (well more like lay around like a rock all day) comedian
Wait, what was I talking about?
oh right, don't discriminate!! :)
against other humans or other sloths.
or adhesive sloths.
...I'm not crazy! my mother sloth had me tested!
Nov 12, 2014
Nov 12, 2014 at 12:23 PM UTC
there's nothing romantic about
stinging, shaking legs
and a still silence
surrounding lovers that creates
screams in their heads --
where did i go wrong
i'm such an idiot
there's nothing beautiful
about blood and self-loathing,
insecurities and guilt.
there's no turning around.
there's only moving forward.
and maybe they'll both be different,
but they'll probably stay the same.
and there's nothing --
nothing --
pretty about that.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 3:46 AM UTC
Too long this rot has run its course, too much the damage done
When men deflect acknowledged glance, they know that wrong has won.
Across this land and far afield the wrongness seeps within
And pride becomes a memory through distant halls of spin.
How can we bow to tyranny, how can we shy away
From that which causes eyes to slide.... and coaxes will to sway?
To tolerate the bombast, the bullying, the lies
Succumbing to a hopelessness, which, both we despise.
Division in the nation, uproar in between
A man and wife’s contention-ness beyond what should be seen
Brothers loathing brothers, silence in the room
Where a word uttered wrongly can erupt to screaming soon.
Allies left in tatters, trust is cut to shards
Tariffs injudiciously, imposed to **** the cards.
International uproar, industry in strife
Teetering disastrously when NATO flees the knife.
Putin sits and rubs his hands, hilarious the show
Disorder and disharmony to lubricate his glow.
Beijing sits inscrutably, always opportune
Manoeuvring judiciously, in place, to call the tune.
America, the isolate, sails away to sea
Blondini, at the helm, wears smirk indulgently.
M.
The White House
HAMILTON NZ
12th July 2018
Jul 12, 2018
Jul 12, 2018 at 2:17 AM UTC
Doom train hurtling along
Through the fog in my mind
Towing freight, rectangular and oblong
Dim headlights, you're travelling blind
Five carriages long, excluding engine and caboose
Metal against metal, spitting sparks on steel
Undetermined path, rails will choose
Chugging along on dirt covered wheels
In the cabin, I see the light
Emanating from your furnace
Swallowing up coals in your gaping bite
Tongues of flames licking the surface
Fire breathing, spewing thick black smoke
Almost unseen, against the dark of night
A long plumy arm as if extending to choke
And plug the remaining sources of light
Meandering precariously on tracks that weave
Over uncharted, unfathomable terrain
Your store, so reliably you heave
Worming your way through my brain
What's in that cargo of yours?
What lies within those boxcars?
What drives you to diligently run your course?
What fuels you to travel near and far?
Loads of self pity, self loathing and self reproach
Snaking your way to an unknown destination
Screeching brakes as if a stop you approach
Herald the train of dubious intentions
Light is upon you, dark will dissipate
Your plumes starting to lessen from your stack
The dawn breaking horizon you didn't anticipate
To see another charging towards you on this very same track...
Sep 27, 2014
Sep 27, 2014 at 4:16 AM UTC
**** this dude is annoying as hell
Says the over indulged little man on his
Hipster compy
Can you feel the self-loathing?
Good. Cuz, this is me slitting wrists
Nothing is really that impressive when you write it yourself
I’m never proud of the words
Arranged on paper
But **** that guy can poet.
**** English, I do whatever I **** well please
Let me chill you.
I’ve heard children be labeled as mistakes
I still can’t believe that.
I could sit here and write salt all day
That **** would still surprise me.
Like a one-legged ****** bursting out of the cake on the 4th of July.
Nov 28, 2012
Nov 28, 2012 at 5:59 PM UTC
i’ve barely slept,
i’m running on adderal and self loathing,
a mix that has kept me alive for far too long.
i’ve barely slept,
i want you to kiss me until our lips are bruised and touch me hard enough that traces of your fingertips can still be seen on my skin.
i’ve barely slept,
i miss the feeling of someone’s mouth on my neck,
the feeling of gentle kisses starting at my collarbone and falling lower and lower and lower.
i’ve barely slept,
i’m running on adderal and self loathing,
when what i really need is to find my relief in you.
Oct 30, 2019
Oct 30, 2019 at 9:01 PM UTC
Are my eyes just fooling me again
Or is my time Finaly up
Is this a siege on my own head
Or revenge from far and wide
It seems so clear
But yet so far
The panic setting in
I was warned
But not enough
This is the time for fear
And as I stare below me
Crown tilted low upon my head
I could swear the forest's walking
Full of loathing, life and hate
It's pace is quickly speeding up approaching Dunsinane
Now what to do with my own throne
The battles lost
The battles won
And The branches click and whisper
As I look down In fear
But what choice do I have now
These woods will make the end
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 12:06 PM UTC
i am not your ******
nor your sister.
i do not know the meaning
of these words, mister.
except
in instances where
i hate us
like
they hate us.
a putrid loathing
sprouting from different
colored grounds
but a dangerous flower
nonetheless.
they are not just words,
they are drops of blood
spilled from the lashed backs
of our enslaved
triple grandfathers
and mothers.
our slang replaces
hoses
pushing us back
during marches
and righteous riots.
aggression
equals regression
equals deppression.
and now,
it's all our fault.
now it's
black on black assault.
now it's
fly shoes and ghetto booties.
poppin' bottles and
poppin' caps,
running through nights like
street ******* rats.
what would
W.E.B. DuBois say if
he'd seen this
backstep taken
after we'd come this far,
after reaching for stars
and dropping
the ball?
now
i love this color.
i love this color
and prefer no other.
all i'm saying is,
let us pick one day
when we put the negroidian away
put ****** back in it's roots.
no, not the movie,
don't me toby.
let us get the dream rollin'
Mister King style,
not Master P style.
no big rims, or leather seats.
none of that ****
for awhile.
i'm saying takeover.
i'm saying african-america makeover.
i'm saying,
let's take
our pride back,
like our
homeland lions.
let us make black
a taste not so sour.
i'm saying,
Black Power.
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 8:03 AM UTC
In this life you will find
Degradation unavoidable
For it is in the weather of our life
Degradation is like radioactive waste
We pass like presents to each other
The rain on a wedding day
As I did once live
In the shadows of dread
As degradation breathed on me
And I fell into the pits of self doubt
And stank of slimy sewers
For I was lost in loathing ,
But my soul grew rapidly
In the muck and mud of this world
For it was fertile and rich
As my roots drank up all its goodness
So please send me your degradation
Your disrespect and contempt
Your pretty wrapping of best interests
Makes no fool of me
For I will soak it up like the sky above
For I embrace my madness
And caress her beauty
Like the most cherished lover
As you reject your life
Within the tight confines
Of your own reason
As you seek to bury your
Disappointments in me
I hold your self doubt in my hands
For you live by scales and ranking
As I throw away all scales
And burn all efforts
For there is nothing
I can take from this world
So please, please
Strain if you must
Look down on me
If you can, As I am above
For I own the sky
And live above and beyond
But all degradation disappears
In the softest heart
Of self acceptance
As I fill the room
All banter falls like the softest snow
As we serenely dance and play
In our snowball games
As I learn to swing and play
All jokes bounce and tickle
The inside of my belly
For I live in the ecstasy
Of my own self acceptance
As we roll around like clowns
All barriers broken
Our bellies full of joy
As we spill over with love
And bounce around like jelly
For no degradation exists
In the center of our hearts
Where God permeates our souls
For his love should be
Followed into us whole
As I accept God's goodness
And perfection in all of me
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 6:06 AM UTC
You call me a ***** a ****
You hurl insults like stones
That beat my spirit ******
Black hatred pools at my feet
Thick, Choking, Threatening
To drag me down into itself
Your fear cuts into my soul
Leaving a thousand wounds
A thousand times a day
I taste the blood of an innocent
Who is not so innocent anymore
How many of us will you burn
On the altar of self-righteous loathing
Salem reborn, Even the closet
Is no longer safe
Dec 11, 2011
Dec 11, 2011 at 7:23 PM UTC
And in the end,
You begin to realize who your true friends are.
The ones who stand by your side
Through thick and thin
Trial, error, and sin.
In this day and age,
Not many stand the chance
In nomination
For the sacrificial commencement of honour.
Nature plays its part indeed.
Because it is only in time
The veil is lifted.
Root by root,
Seed by seed.
Humanity reveal their true colors.
Next thing you know,
You've been cursed by a plague.
A whole school of fish
Swimming to discover their own island.
That is only for thyself.
You've been contaminated
By the human race.
Look at the social media blow up.
The narcissistic selfies,
The I, me, my's,
Gaining daily acceptance
All in disguise.
The public audience is their show.
It's needed for everyday approval.
Nobody really cares about you
It's all about
"Look at me!"
"Look what I can do!"
"You are so cool."
"Thumbs up to you!"
I'm going to abuse the word "love."
Forget the hoopla
Here today
Gone tomorrow.
Everyone feeding off of
Self loathing attention.
There is no more room for pitiful sorrow.
Truth is
Sheep lie among the prey
Victims...
Don't be another
"Nodding Acquaintance"
A distortion of the facts.
Don't get fooled.
Not by social grace
Not by exploitation of the face.
You'll just be a bargain commodity,
For their convenience.
Stand true
True to yourself
Because in the end,
Nobody else really cares.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
Moon is not beautiful
She doth not shine golden
She drops weakened, white light
on creatures craving sleep
She sits there and stares
At a frightened little world
with her cold, chilling glow
and a hostility deep
It's ingrained in her soul
to make the nimbus look fearsome
ghastly and pale
like a place to hide demons
She debases belief
We forget our star-wish
and thick, we go fishing
at nighttime
And then, Moon releases
a loneliness, cold
and we can't elude
we're stuck in the hole of
This brooding solitude mood
and its tole.
There's no escaping anytime soon
As we start to fear
the burning sun
And I suppose, this is my loathing of Moon.
Moon is contagious.
She offers the aid of her presence, unfailing
When we're washed down like willows, weakened
and wailing
And we can sail under her
Just as the dime
It's a lie that the night's
only clock-start for crime
When she's out from the hiding place
to be bright as Moon can
There's not a direction
No footpath
No overworked plan
And when I remember:
Beauty needs not a rival
I suppose I'll be loving Moon, soon again.
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
Your fingernails give away the debris you've collected
I've known you for a while but it feels like longer
feels like sunsets under my tongue
blue bruises behind my eyes
every skip of the needle brings back our old skins &
the hush-hush type of self worth,
keeping pens full of red ink so we can
play the demon in this one instead
of closing the door, we don't wanna gossip
at the edge of the room like strangers,
we wanna be in the center
and your fingerprints look a lot like mine sometimes, especially when we laugh and cry together
especially when you fall asleep and I watch
for soft signs of openmouthed breathing that signal
we are in deeper than we thought.
I can't stand the way you look at yourself though, sometimes I wanna
run away from everyone here
sometimes I wanna just up and leave it all
in a shallow grave where it belongs,
but the moments are softer when you slip my name onto your cotton tongue,
and I don't punch out a pattern for my self loathing quite as quickly when
we tally up our thread counts and what time we have left
together.
Inevitably, I still paint my teeth black,
because words about my future never felt right coming from my pink and purple mouth
but your lips could twist anything up into a lot of sense,
I could kiss you and **** time forever
in parking lots and on the edges of stained mattresses
I didn't ever want a home until I thought of hanging up your colors to dry
keep them here in the niches or
scrawled onto notepads I keep beside my bed,
put down your demon scripts and ask me in the morning
if it takes a while for seeds to grow,
I'll tell you to keep a can of water nearby
and to make sure it's somewhere sunny
I know there's something foreign growing in me and it's
bigger than I've ever been,
but I think maybe you know and
it's bigger than both of us, maybe
you know and
you've been doing some growing, too.
Jul 15, 2018
Jul 15, 2018 at 4:31 PM UTC
I hate myself
No really, I mean it.
I know you don't believe me for how often that I say it
But I'm stuck with my thoughts who claim it.
They tell me I'm not good enough
Too stupid to think
Go ahead grab another drink
and forget who you are cos you know you won't get very far
With this disease that has consumed you.
But this can't be diagnosed
And there's no cure to be found
So go on and tell yourself just how weak you are
Cos it's all in your head
When you say you want to be dead.
They call it self-loathing, and it's the greatest fear I've know
The darkest spots my mind takes me to
Why are all the artists the sad ones?
We feel your pain and then create
While carrying the burden of our own.
I shouldn't have said anything
No one listens to an artist for they have nothing to say
A poet rambles while general discourse fill the spaces
And I am left alone in my head
With the original thought that prompted this piece
I wished I was dead.
Aug 26, 2016
Aug 26, 2016 at 1:14 PM UTC
**Anger
Frustration
Scared
Lonely
Afraid
Hatred
Loathing**
So with these thoughts fueling my actions,
I make the conscious decision to punish my body.
I feel as though I deserve this treatment.
I cut to scar my body.
I cut to release emotions I had no valve for.
I have no words or outlet for them yet.
I cut to make myself feel better; to alleviate those feelings of hatred.
Cutting is such an enigma for me.
I do it as a punishment, for being weak and "allowing" myself to be abused...
But at the same time, the feeling I get from doing it is strength.
I look at the cuts and think, "Wow. I was able to endure that. I am strong."
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 9:24 PM UTC
My leg hurts
The jaws of this inhumane trap engulf my lower shin
I have the tool to disarm it and free myself
But I muttle in my adolescent egocentric pain
Caught within monotonous routine and self interest I rot like my peers
I've sunk to a level of self loathing, that I enjoy pulling myself down
I
Am
Disgusting.
I
Need
Help.
I cry for things I can give myself but alas I withhold it to feel sorry for myself
Me and my fellow youth
Equally as useful, equally as useless
Although I am free of the crowd I am still blinded by my adolescence
Purpose
Interest
Intellect
Great-fullness
Peacefulness
Generosity
Love
PURPOSE
all I've know is I am here to be a vessel for knowledge and indoctrination
I am here to have an opinion I voice, but does not matter.
I do not matter.
This function is welded to me
However...
The voice of destiny reasons with me again and I hear:
Seek what's within
Garrot it.
Place yourself into the walls of meaning and the murals upon't
Serve others in selflessness. Share with others in selflessness. Learn from others in selflessness. Teach others in selflessness.
Your a pawn in the samsara. Do your duty within its game.
Gain higher consciousness so you can share the path to it. Become a giver, not a taker.
Interest
Intellect
Great-fullness
Peacefulness
Generosity
Love
Six lessons left, define yourself within them. Or perish within your self indulgent pitiful hole.
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 5:13 AM UTC
don't waste your breath
telling me to get better, talk ***** to me
don't hold your breath
hoping i try to help myself.
if you're going to hold my neck
hold it a lot tighter than that,
don't forget to push down
on my windpipe with your palm,
we're wrapped up in these bedsheets
because i want you to hurt me.
i want to see the rope burn on my wrists glisten
where it's begun to tear away at my flesh
and i like to feel real tangible knots
when i'm tied up in self loathing.
i struggle to find the line between
lovesick and depressed or
being a ********* what's the big difference.
either way i wake up with bruised
blue lips and oxygen deprivation,
and fresh linens wet with singeing liquids,
and a pain in my stomach or lungs that means
i'm still breathing slightly.
i wanted you to **** me.
Sep 12, 2017
Sep 12, 2017 at 4:39 AM UTC
currently i am not
sad
depressed
lonely
alone
self-loathing
insecure
heartbroken
nor breaking hearts
and that makes me feel quite
out of
place
because i am surrounded by
scars
and tear-streaked (beautiful) faces
bruised knees drawn up to chests
dark empty rooms
broken mirrors
and trashcans filled
with crumpled lists of mistakes
and if i could,
i would take all the
scars
tears
and lonely nights
from the hearts that are broken
or breaking
and i wish i could
cloak The Light i’ve found
(or did It find me?)
around cold shoulders
and wash all the tired feet
that’ve been blindly stumbling
in the dark
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 9:52 PM UTC
*I foster a monster
Of my own creating;
"Self-defeating" he slithers
As his skin festers into smiling,
Unrelenting and repeating;
So I slit my throat
With the cold knife of self-loathing,
Coating my skin
With a red dress
Of the life I've been wasting.*
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 1:48 PM UTC
It has been a while since we've spoken
I have been tugging on a broken line
May be too gone this time, Lord
Been too low to be grounded
My demons dancing in a conga line
I am surrounded
You made me in your image
But what if I don't like what I see?
Is that insulting?
Is that absurd?
I made almost all my angels flee
It keeps me knocking on heavens door
So tell me, are you listening??
I'm not feeling assured
They say you turn water into wine,
But none of that tonight
I can settle for a bitter cup of coffee,
For a bitter state of mind
To keep me up so I won't dream of
Grandparents who can't walk
Or my lifelong companion
In a wild dogs jaw
Or an angry pair of sapphire eyes
I know I've failed them all
Water into wine, maybe two or three
Will make me numb enough to remind me
Of what their love was like,
Like the warm screams secreting
From my windpipe, do you hear me now?
Can you listen to me tonight???
I know I can be cowardly disciple, even a sheep
In lions clothing- wasn't your book written for
People like me
No, I don't want to be
Self loathing, another fallen angel
You lose hope in, don't let me go
Off the deep end, let the bitterness
I've been sipping on be sweetened
Please
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC