"malediction" poems
check it out check it out
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
it's da state of this here disunion
this here bangalore torpedo seeks yer minefields
this here suffering hero
n
crows about strafes
multitudes peripherally
****** blind prophets
exclaim
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
it's nothing but beginning
of beginning & z end of approximation
time's sweet angry subluxation
universal caving in on U & U
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
when was z last time U really loved
i mean really really really loved
ha i could only hold to z imagination
z skeleton z allegory z myth
'cause everything slides & falls
screams careens outta control
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
she brought in rrrrevolution.evolution.now
is z caustic effervescence of her wit
eroding my sandy castle of deceit?
ha and repeat ha
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
forgive-me-notes are written high
on z forehead of my despair
a cursive flowing interdiction
malediction cruxifiction err-u-diction
en-passant
in each pyrotechnic moment when we don't see I-to-I
on anything relevant to what we once hoped was us
but we continue dance dance dance
perseveration aberration indiscretion cha-cha-cha
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
she said *** is z engine of z world
like engine like world like ***
like like like
could say no more
oh it's tiresome to go on
describing that chimeric uniting
flesh-to-flesh-in-flesh eliding
we all are guilty of
do not end a line with a preposition such as
that or a proposition such as this:
given angle a prove that old triangle theorem
two simultaneous loves don't make a right
cherchez les angles les anglais la bon mot
ya know
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
when i die please bury me upside down
prone to z ground making dead love to earth ya kno
while the centuries lie down next to me
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
chic chicky boom chicky boom chic chic
chic!
chic!
Jan 24, 2010
Jan 24, 2010 at 3:14 PM UTC
Altered by the winds laced with a threnody tune,
life in the northern woods will never be the same without its bloom.
The deceased puppet master continues to pull the strings of the dehiscence heart,
one of this game is forced to take part.
The ears of an indecisive mind take in the plaintive sound,
which provides an ongoing reminder of how these feet are forever bound to this ground.
With the chances of escaping this monochromatic box slims,
one might begin to take a swim.
The ideal way of living becomes a compromise,
the old personality leaves only the eyes.
Shed away in a abscission fashion,
and along with that goes all the passion.
Sitting down to confabulate with a higher knowledge,
carry on the dreams of going to college.
Storybook barriers leave no saltant mood.
Being passed by society is quite rude.
A misnomer indeed,
being labeled wrong because of greed.
Hunger of such has taken a life,
of one upon a lake that was never a wife.
Letters that hold such wicked silence,
that can never be undone even with science.
This blue body surrounded by an invisible malediction,
or maybe that is all just fiction.
He has nothing left from his unmanly lies,
upon keeping secrets he thinks he is wise.
Knowing it all is never enough,
but with an abecedarian brain on might just call it a bluff.
Eventually farewells must be given without hate,
and one might hope to return as if all was in a somniferous state.
Jun 15, 2013
Jun 15, 2013 at 11:57 PM UTC
Constipation, ************
excitation, evaluation
Hold on a minute
HIS Creation
The mind went blank
the body convulsed
no-one knows why
but theories abound
Expectation, demolition,
misinterpretation, damnation,
Wait a second
MY Creation
I did so much
in my chaotic youth
probably nothing to blame
only me and my likes
Infuriation, retaliation,
malediction, apprehension,
stop-look-listen
THEIR Creation
It seems unfair
but why despair
put it in perspective
certainly things could be worse
Demoralization
Intimidation
Expectation
Presumption
Assumption
Palpitation
Aggravation
Ball of confusion
Trepidation
Holy ****
A VIOLENT Creation
Jan 9, 2011
Jan 9, 2011 at 3:31 PM UTC
Dry timber under that rich foliage,
At wine-dark midnight in the sacred wood,
Too old for a man's love I stood in rage
Imagining men. Imagining that I could
A greater with a lesser pang assuage
Or but to find if withered vein ran blood,
I tore my body that its wine might cover
Whatever could rccall the lip of lover.
And after that I held my fingers up,
Stared at the wine-dark nail, or dark that ran
Down every withered finger from the top;
But the dark changed to red, and torches shone,
And deafening music shook the leaves; a troop
Shouldered a litter with a wounded man,
Or smote upon the string and to the sound
Sang of the beast that gave the fatal wound.
All stately women moving to a song
With loosened hair or foreheads grief-distraught,
It seemed a Quattrocento painter's throng,
A thoughtless image of Mantegna's thought--
Why should they think that are for ever young?
Till suddenly in grief's contagion caught,
I stared upon his blood-bedabbled breast
And sang my malediction with the rest.
That thing all blood and mire, that beast-torn wreck,
Half turned and fixed a glazing eye on mine,
And, though love's bitter-sweet had all come back,
Those bodies from a picture or a coin
Nor saw my body fall nor heard it shriek,
Nor knew, drunken with singing as with wine,
That they had brought no fabulous symbol there
But my heart's victim and its torturer.
1.4k
Days pass like winter winds,
But memories of ****** sins
Of prisoners mine forever live
So long as I shan’t forgive.
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
Atop a bench of elm,
The throne that rules this realm,
I, judge and jury, tread
The path of justice dead.
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
A soul, grieved and daunted,
By malediction haunted,
Shall drop before me, praying,
Whilst I lean in, saying,
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
“He is not I. Silence
Your foolish pleas of guidance.”
“I beg!” he shall say, “Save me!”
“Nay,” I shall say, “no mercy.”
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
His penance I shall write,
And with eyes blank as night,
The soul will gaze, pleading,
With eyes he shan’t be needing.
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
Their prison is not a cell
So solace cannot dwell;
Their fate: a wall of stone
Where they shall hang alone.
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
I shall place his wrists in chains
Though I have not the reins
To latch his iron locks:
He bound himself to the rock.
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
With a cry of a thousand woes,
A coal black mass of crows
Will swarm the soul to feast
And eat the morbid beast.
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
After which, I shall call;
A soul shall approach the wall.
He shall gaze upon my empty face
Praying for fickle grace.
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
Pray as he shall, no salvation
Follows recitation,
For I alone decide
How far from the path he strides.
IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 5:40 PM UTC
When He came home from work that day
He said “Enough’s enough”.
“Let others built the widgets,
I have done that long enough.”
I’ll live a life of leisure,
crafting poetry and song.
Perhaps I’ll write short stories
or play my guitar all night long.”
Such boundless optimism
didn’t take Fate into account.
Fate, the foe of youth and love,
was lurking there about.
That man thought that He had years of time
to write and think and putter.
Yet Fate was of another mind,
and a malediction muttered.
A tightness in the chest He felt.
A soreness in one arm.
He was sure that it was nothing.
Soon thereafter, He was gone
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 3:59 PM UTC
Love has no mastery
Under weathered wings
Enveloped, clouds of misery
Love has no clamour
In screeching tongues
Envenomed with glamour
Love has no prediction
On provoking thoughts
Enticed with malediction
Love has no ground
Above the fractures
Enabled with marching sounds
His arm shears the stars
That entwined our endearment
And is eternal no more.
Aug 8, 2015
Aug 8, 2015 at 10:32 PM UTC
Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath?
With agony, thou cry, thou scream and thou sleep
Staggering over time, the extensions of gore
A morph possessed over the flags: cloistered around throat
An uttering of serene eons, of atrophy and of thaw;
A morass of hegemony, of identity and war
Withered from bullets,drained over the ground
A knock on the coffin of tommorrow and the past
A chronology misplaced and outdone
And a synapse of presence smothered with the breath of dust
Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath?
With hope, thou bawl, thou shout, thou sleep
Chaotic commemoration ruptures over the streets
Splatters around an arcane, segregated country
Under the mud of enigma lies the rotten leaves of history
Away the tomorrow leans, restless and unknowingly
For it lies awake with the screams of a rifle, the screeching audibilty of ghostly mutterings, the camaraderie caught on flesh, between the teeth of craved monarchy
For the tomorrow lies awake near the history.
For the past suffocates the vivacity
Yclept the peace, yclept the tranquility!
Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath?
With anger, thou yelp, thou break, thou sleep
A hymn of sigh deafens the petrifying serenity
A sigh outraged with the murmur of life
Seismic ephemerality tears the ground apart
Barges in, the present, whispers a cry
The tomorrow lies still over the chunks of calamity
Lulled to sleep with the kiss of presence,
With the screams of a distant enmity:
The burial of time that has been cloistered around the anonymity
The burial of the ceased, the past, as a euphemism
The burial of the existence, the present, as a mayhem
The burial of the undone, the tomorrow, with a malediction
All three in the same grave, punching the timeless, imminent reality they delineated
Which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath?
With silence, thou shatter, thou question, thou sleep
Down the ground quaffs the time
Of a city that no longer breathes
Out inundates the prayers of a dilemma
For a country is to cleave
Fidelity over a continuum, with faded prayers, shares a discourse
Befuddled with an antinomy, it asks itself, how an epitaph shall be wrought?
Down the ground swallows the confusion
Of a city that no longer cries
Now, which ground shall thine eternity crawl beneath?
To be overwhelmed by a plenitude of halves
In the name of peace, in the name of life!
Which ground shall I die beneath?
To lie awake with an eternal sleep
I no longer whisper over the divided streets
Not to awaken the past, not to revive the wounds and faded hymns
I breathe in the dust, devouring the ceased
For a divided city is to be kissed
Down I no longer hold an impulse to scream:
A gush of presence that arises a breeze
That of which billowing up the grave
Releasing a future for a road ahead
With hope, I bawl, I defy, I beg
Yclept the peace, in the name of solidarity!
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 5:28 AM UTC
Half moon twilight, shadows fade
Specters rise within the glade
Advancing in a soft parade
Along the hills and colonnade
Ghostly phantoms long forgotten
Wailing souls from Hell begotten
Crying out for Satan’s pity
Forsaken by the Holy see
Where to go and what direction
Darwin’s natural selection
Never saw this sad collection
Death’s pathetic imagery
Floating down among the people
bowed beneath a different steeple
'Perhaps these foreign gods will
save us from eternal misery'
But god’s are all created equal
from the start and thru the sequel
By the same enamored people
living in this desperate land
And so my friend there’s no salvation
from this fear and desperation
The freedom of annihilation
again denied by Heaven’s hand.
Oct 6, 2010
Oct 6, 2010 at 6:28 AM UTC
The person that I see
He hides something inside.
Ambitions of glory;
Pain of failure.
Dreams fulfilled;
Misplaced intentions
Eyes filled with pride;
A soul lacking peace.
Who is this person I see?
Why can’t he fall?
Why should he stand?
Trying so hard to keep moving;
Can never seem to get going.
Walking contradiction;
Painful malediction.
Taking shape;
Void of substance.
How does he stand there and look at me?
How can he look me in the eye?
Smirk on his face;
An attitude too cocky.
So smug, so arrogant, so hurt.
Turned away and yet embraced.
He stares at me with conviction,
Reminds me of redemption.
He is…
May 9, 2013
May 9, 2013 at 5:48 PM UTC
I became addicted to nicotine
when I was only seventeen.
The sensation is like no other,
It makes you want another.
Your cells dance and prance,
iust ask the hedonists of France
To the priests that say malediction,
I say it’s the best addiction.
Yet the utopian feeling
is invariably temporal.
I thought I was heeling,
but my body is not eternal.
Kierkegaard says it’s theft,
sensation that deprives you and others.
but in the end there is nothing left,
albeit the crying mothers,
await the return of their children’s vestige.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 1:54 AM UTC
Let the curse be invoked, let ghosts gibber and moan!
It appears the Bard’s skull is out and on loan.
Although long protected by a malediction dread,
It turns out Shakespeare’s body is missing his head.
Some Victorian fans thought it quite the lark
to make off with his skull; a deed done in the dark.
Alas poor Shakespeare whose works I know well
Your skull now a paperweight where miscreants dwell.
Like Crassus the Roman, you serve as a prop
And your moldering bones are missing their top.
If Poor Yorick had heirs they are under suspicion;
Subject them to torture to obtain their confession.
Mar 26, 2016
Mar 26, 2016 at 12:50 PM UTC
A name that lionized once
Exemplifying crystal goodness
Dwindles now amidst the crowd
For an instinct extravagance
Who loved once, now fear
The name that lies in darkness.
‘The culprit’ now reminisces
All that made his past.
Endurance long did he face but
Long didn’t his freedom last.
Joy comes slow and with struggle
Folly! He wanted it fast.
The culprit earlier envied people
With love, money and other wealth
Unlike winners, he failed to stand alone
In himself he did lose faith.
Burning desires made evil rhetorical
Pity the age evil ignite stealth.
Forbidden fruits he dared to reach
Stranger he felt on being a deuce.
He cherished at the illusion
Of walking on a supreme avenue.
Everything comes with a price, he forget
Now the Devil waited for his revenue.
Blindfolded by the espy of interim wealth
Wealth of humanity has become a fiction.
Just of the self he kept ruminating on
Never thought of the innocent’s malediction
He who snatched several dreams by his desire
Awaited for him the much deserved destination.
In his cell, his sleep now breaks
As the moonlight seeks him in murky.
The joy in seasons are lost forever
Burning passions depleted of intensity
Time passed with thoughts of past and future
Alas! Immature insanity changed his destiny.
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 1:07 PM UTC
You thought you could tame
That little timid boy
Mould him into your--
Spite and darkness
Annihilate his Lambent soul
And leave him benighted
Just because ---
He was filled with love and light
And his happiness
Consumed you
You're battered by his affection
You reified your lies against him
Painted him villain around the his hood
You couldn't bear to see a smile in his face
You're torn....
But now..
You've awaken a monster
He now has spoken malediction
On your soul
So what now? Huh.!
You sacred
Feeling frightened
Can't fight the demon you let loose
Can't control him
And you still trying to control the young lad
Those his cuts
Marks your end
The Demons you made
Are in their fullest power now
Ready to be unleashed
Soon enough
At his sight,
You would cringe.
#Tales Hunter
Jul 29, 2020
Jul 29, 2020 at 5:49 PM UTC
Do I need to tell thy, how in unity we are matched as one.
In malediction, created by malaise.
I speak out.
Have such fire filled desires.
So be it tall and strong thus spake.
Decadence in morning song, of buds and birds and bees that throng.
If I could christen dragonflies,so I would set you in my heart, should do thus by pure means indeed.
If only I could form such trysts with all those dragonflies.
I wonder, am I just being me?
If I could hold thee in the morning it would be my brightest hour.
My tears would dry and maybe then I should be set free.
Released to fly away.
Only God knows that I love you, and only God knows why.
You creep along and stroke my heart, mine eyes are by thine blind.
(c) Livvi
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 2:33 PM UTC
Yetis blow their grunts to the cold winds
and have conferences with their invincible subject
in the snow white ambience ghosts warm ghosts
with wisps of hot air exhaled in life affirming guise
the cloudy mist of hollowed rulers of arid snow storm
In the vastness of the opaque landscape
frozen yetis with frozen thoughts chip icy malediction
sparkling wastes in the ice world of the cold blooded
mired in the imaginations of snow blindness delusions
minds now just icebergs floating in mushy ***** ice floes
These abominable snow people or yetis to most
seem forever yet to find joy in anything they see or know
hairy furs and eyes like coloured ices of alpine shades
they mutter tales of forlorn doom and cold despair of woes
in the insipid whiteness of shivering lives, woes in them glows
Do not talk of happiness and lives real and sincere
for what in icy cold hearts, knows of warmth and sunshine
the spirits soars in light and reaches out in bright honest clouds
while the abominables seek dark caves and huddle in pale laments
beings devoid of souls like cold blooded fish with no memories
If you're ever in the Arctic do not stop and listen
for howling in the west wild winds you'll hear frozen minds
bloodless creatures full of anguish wailing of loneliness and cold
bitterness runs cold in veins of toxic cold blood and hairs in faces
and the males suffer with appendages that are small and inactive
Mar 22, 2019
Mar 22, 2019 at 5:39 PM UTC
I roll in stolen moments
no deep contemplative hours avail me
an immovable watch, snatched and dashed by phone
or lipstick honed prose shopping for scandal
I am
the broken hands of faith offering naught but a vagrant malediction
where, but for a few chatty fists further, they remain below the none
in the unbound knots of shallow ruin
black
boxed
and cut into catastrophe
a unified cleave of impoverished woe
“immoveable?” say I
“I may chance sleep if it were in the hands of one beyond where ill goaded geometry is gone
Immaterial
come already danced, implacable
and I were vitreous to their bacterial digestion”
such chatty cracks may answer above their unleashed wish but…
“but what?”
…but the chiral sun lies on its back smoking those hooves which have waited all day
the eternal don’t offer faith in my diorama
so I own them
my own
my own scars that burn nicely enough
without your fire to iterate the bones
a few more herniated throats might join us yet
for a conveniently flagged final rebuke
each with a semi-toned profanity
as precocious coda
aged and offered with two fingers down your maddening throat
picking up, if I may, where I left off yesterday,
before you so rudely walked away
or was it a year or so before?
I remain bored with these gods
twice removed from the approval ratings
their open mouthed statute holds no limitation
to my ambition
let me see those waves which are racked beyond recall
much like your neck should be
through jawed ears and briny tongue
a muffled centrepiece fetid
save for recalcitrant sinew
I shall be the sky in which your virtuoso limbs must swing
swing
spastic in their envoi
now, serpent spat, pin-grinned, how is this sleep pain in the mirrored wide-why?
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
So proudly we stand by liberty's side
She's fraught with lividity
With no life in her eyes
We are plagued with insanity
So we can't see this disgust
So blinded by grief
That this is what has become of us!
Posing the corpse of our beloved mother...
Searching for an answer that cannot be found
Too reluctant, too proud to put her corpse in the ground
A picture is taken, we smile so wide
You can't even tell that liberty has died
Cursed is the seed of our creation...
Our mothers not too rotten for manipulation
We try to conceive an infant nation
But a dead womb can only host...
A carrion infestation
"Why mother, why did you have to die?"
Too much malediction had poisoned her mind
Abused by strangers to create a home
Thus killing the only mother we've ever known
How is a nation that claims to be free
A nation of lepers, of beggars, disease?
Because of insanity we cannot see the disgust
Of this Mourning Portrait of America!
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 12:01 AM UTC
Apparently, it was like an apparition
He eyed me, ***** in his wilderness
Heaving me to the haven of his handsomeness
Him, my male, my marvelous malediction
His Eye seeing my I inside the aperture
Of his “camera’’, when our room was nature
But plunged in the ocean of his sea, see
Like two heroes wrestling on the coastline
We rose naked, his fingertips skimmed my spine
Between skies and waters, with our furious epitome
We made love to the waves, alike Eteocles
The current circling our chromatic compositions
Our tongues watery, our limbs exhausted
In this hopeless happiness, we stroke our passions
On the rough wood of Pan’s harp, oh Polynices!
Cursed by a kiss, blessed by a blow and exulted
By the smooth summits of our souls and bodies
Seduced by the sweetest sin, singing our silent rhapsodies
My name is Miguel, I am not Michael the archangel
But he certainly was. In the warmth of
the wave lays my angel.
November 13, 2014
Inspired by the movie by Javier Fuentes-León, ‘’Undertow’’ or Contracorriente (2009)
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 9:15 AM UTC
He made her feel special,
Magic dripped from his fingers.
Dripped more from his tongue.
She made him feel,
Feel again, scared to break a record of being loved again.
No more.
Instead of word of mouth.
For her from land down south.
He fired blank responses from his very wary pen.
The record made of vinyl, was moulded in bright yellow,
As canary stood, did strut his stuff, sadly never mellow.
He swore as stood in front of her,
He'd never love again.
And he did.
Stupid sod.
He loved her too, he told her so, the demi-god.
He ran faster, much faster than the pouring rain,
His love he washed it down the drain.
Blew more wildly than the wind,
She was his malediction, the thing called love it bit again, made him feel, buckets worse.
Such soul slaying addiction!
(C) Livvi
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 7:44 AM UTC
iwalked into the desert u said you would be there u said baby i missed u to a ghost half dissapeared smoked thru talk for hours
sun folds and burning red when I bent to kiss you the devil shook his head and said hey pretty baby i been dreaming i feel u + i need you we ran and burned like cigarettes dripping by a ghost the whole world smelled like gasoline left in bitter smoke. in two convoluted circles our desert fell apart flew like slamming windows recanted our blue hearts dark now so dark dark now so dark dark now so dark dark now so dark dark now so dark a gold pen malediction and my soul to trade instead theres nothing left to love for when you’re already dead ripped off my face laid in my grave burned off my prints ive been erased and everything still looks like evil
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 8:19 PM UTC
iwalked into the desert usaid you would be there
u said baby i miss u to a ghost half dissapeared
smoked thru talk for hours
sun folds burning red
when I bent to kiss you the devil shook his head and said
hey pretty baby i been dreaming
i feel u + i need you
ran and burned like cigarettes dripping by a ghost
whole world smelled like gasoline left in bitter smoke
two convoluted circles when our desert fell apart
flew like slamming windows recanted our blue hearts
dark now so dark
with your gold pen malediction and my soul to trade instead
there is nothing left to love for when you’re already dead
ripped off my face laid in my grave
burned off my prints ive been erased
and everything still looks like evil
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 2:22 AM UTC
not rats--he revered them, at least those sans hydrophobia
mice much maligned, though not condign; feral and farm cats kept them at bay anyway
both species took the rap for rodents
his curse he cast on the squirrels--rarely hunted, always chiseling, chipping away at his redwood trim
the spell he cast was whispered; nor did his rifle bark at them
only a few fouled words, imploring birds to dive bomb the ********
and poison placed here and there: allowing him to imagine them taking the fatal bait, skittering off to a favorite hole, writhing in death pangs
sensing some greater god than he could see, and deliver his own malediction to the world, with murderers of squirrels granted no special reprieve
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 4:25 PM UTC
I wish I could make you as happy as XTC
But my company is a downer called ****
I wish I could procure you the love drug and you would get addicted to me
But I'm the worst trip around here, I only grant you paranoia and tears
I wish I could make you as energetic as speed
But my mind, my thoughts and my music just put you to sleep
I'm a natural drug without any THC
Not even the taste is good, and it just smells very smelly
I wish I could give you as much confidence as *******
But the only effect I could give you is infinite pain
You wouldn't feel like a queen with me, I would turn you into a slave
A slave full of malediction, crashing and smacking down your face
I wish I could give you an ****** as warm as ******
But I always inject you with my misery and spleen
I give you an overdose of sadness and melancholy
I cannot even offer you a moment of escapism out of your reality
I wish I could make you see colours as colourful as under the influence of LSD
But I only paint your mood into black even the night is brighter than my company
I turn the brightest star into a dead parasite
I turn every particle of light into a colourless and unliveable galaxy
If I would be a drug I would be a depressive
The one you take because you feel too happy
The one that holds you down even lower than gravity
You would take me because the deeper you could go with me
The higher you could fly again when you would leave me
Oct 5, 2017
Oct 5, 2017 at 11:46 AM UTC
bothered
by the parting
and not
by the red
of the sea
my mind goes
to the same place
to be unique.
it is here
I worship your son
even as he models
disguises
for the father
I’m not.
as for my own
son
I am his memory
of where he put
the earth.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC