"mauling" poems
Stages Of Feelings Goes Like Ice
To Drop The Tears And Marrow
Highly Supports My Own Vice
At Very Last "A Word" To Swallow
And Here Goes The Cycles Nice
Then A Clip Drags My Faded morrow
Stops The Ticks And Hide The Voice
Digging Holes And Sparked Fallow
Dark Goes And Dark Owns My face
The Life Through An Eye Of A Crow
Wild And Reckless Goes Your Dice
Pull It Slow, Near The Fifth Toe
Till Then Starts Your ***** Chase
Still Death Goes In Me So Slow
Here We Are, And Here We Go
In Another Lie, Another Sorrow
Here You Sell, And Someone Buys
So Keep The Change With Thousad Lies
****** Bad In A Brutal Bridal Blade
Mauling Her Metal In Such Daily Fail
Does Flames Flesh's The Coupled Bud
Take It Easy!, As Long You'll Sell It All
Naive!, Cuts Her Finger In Every Raid
To Skip But Delay The Inversed Sail
That Way You Think It'll Make Me Sad
It Will Sink Your Ship In Doors Of Hell
Rain And Hail Goes Upon Your Head
Mark My Words With One Last Smile
Remember Them In Your Stupid Mood
So You Save Your Self From These All
Here We Are, And Here We Go
In Another Lie, Another Sorrow
Here You Sell, And Someone Buys
So Keep The Change With Thousad Lies
Author : Aladdin AURES H.
Jul 3, 2019
Jul 3, 2019 at 11:04 AM UTC
I’m a Polyglot Polymath, Microphone’s a Polygraph,
Manners of a Sociopath-Rhymin’ keeps me on the path,
Else I’d be hackin you up like a cannibal,
Pullin the Chianti out-serve you up like Hannibal,
Words heavier than Elephants invading cross the alps,
Under Armour over Body Armour-waistline fulla scalps,
From the Belt o’ the Celt o’ the Schizophrenic Sandman,
You’re triple teamed by -EC- Raps new Xmen.
I broke me chains,some say I went insane,
But it’s simple,all I went and did was grow a brain.
be the Bane of your life,while Mal plays Dark Knight,
A rhyme Super Villain with a verse of Dark Light,
The searchlights on-watch the cockroach scatter,
We speak Dark Matter while your brain gets battered,
batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed,
Mal and Sandman's Positively Mental Attitude.
It’s the original Irish OG rough rugged and ready,
Battling me is futile keep your hands steady,
I’m no pacifist,and if you take the ****
I’ll clap you with a fist like an obelisk,
That’s a grave warning,-global warming,
The Dragon of Eire ,skies look stormy…
Since cassettes and disks I’ve been spittin ****
That makes wannabee’s wanna slit their wrists,
The Sandman’s calling,come in and take a mauling,
Rappin since clappin one two and yes y’allin,
from New Aulins to saint Pauls my kin,
Are gathering for the quickenin,pulse races,air thickenin'
Highlander in a land cruiser,take your teeth out like a dentist
E.C’s BRUISER.
batten down the screws-worldviews get skewed,
by Mal and Sandmans Positively Mental Attitude.
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 1:36 PM UTC
They began without notice, in the city of Mombasa
By the Al shabab shooting baby Osinya in the head,
Killed the mother, leaving a slug stuck in Osinya’s head
Killing and mauling many others macabrously,
Killing for no other reason, but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
They had initially lynched the West Gate Mall
In Nairobi, killing the aged and seasoned darling
Of African poetry and true fountain of peace
The dearest Kofi Awonor, in full watch of his son,
Confirming a trail of the ghastly curse of fate and death
That totted him arduously from his home in the west
Of the tropical gulag that makes the land of Africa
From where the terror maestro ; Boko haram reign scot free
Mayheming, Killing, ****** and kidnapping harmless virgins
Killing For no other reason but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
They have now killed fifty peasants in Mpeketon town,
****** them in circles to puncture their virginity
and brutally kidnapping those that are not *****
Using the AK 47 and the Ak 74 to shoot and ****
Without reason nor course but failure of mind
Botched down by authenticity of holy diversity
Heavenly packaged in God’s idea of tribe,
Uhm! An African man with a gun is a brute of brutes,
Giving an African a gun is simple mess of the world
In to helter-skelter poise tilting peace higgledy-piggledy,
Killing one another like animals premised by Charles Darwin
As overtly seen in the warring Congo and CAR,
Where Africans **** one another in a stupid dint,
To ape Rwanda or no! To outshine the Jewish Massacre
In the Ammonium chambers of fuehrer Adolf ******
This stupid Africans baser than wild beasts,
Who told you that your greatness will come
from killing your neighbours; the fellow peasants?
These African men are the modern homoguerrillus,
Which one call cheap war making man
They and **** ! **** **** **** **** **** ****
For no other reason but faith and tribe,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
Gunshots of the gunmen in Africa are not
A song of the caged bird, no whatsoever,
They are cowardly maneuvers of the weak
As the weak and cowards rarely forgive,
They arm themselves to the teeth
With deadly weapons from Russia or wherever
Only to shoot and **** the old and malnourished
Peasant women, killing the likes of baby Osinya
Shooting a suckling baby to prove your heroism,
These African men are really a Whiteman’s burden,
They **** their fellows from cockcrow to chick roost
For no other reason but tribe and faith,
Their victims confess different religion and ethnicity.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:45 AM UTC
Stagnant,
Entertaining Ideas,
Slowly Mauling Thoughts,
Over Manifesting Mindless Acts -
Complexity Turned Suddenly Simplified -
Outburst Magnification Aligned,
Creative, Innovative,
Viral.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
She fabricates variance in the same picturesque sky
Mauling two birds with one stone-cold, self-sustaining lie
If happiness blots itself upon perspective,
then I was merely one musing of a momentarily hung canvas
dangling dull under the noose of your
cautiously composed independence
-
"Independence"
she doth protest
While in dependence,
she doth ingest
She flees towards East evermore, infatuated under the intoxication of dissimilar skies, ceasing to remember that all worlds eventually become spherical.
We, abreast, left the nest;
I, digress, detest the West.
Feb 21, 2014
Feb 21, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
Their winter shadows, shrouded
Frozen freak statues
Part milk; a ****** virtual vision void
Snow Queen--bone fiend
My mother is beautiful
Her skin like blue wax
And grey ash
She sings a deep sleep
Singing though an aching forest
It's a riddle, you know
O, with my mind blanking out
So cold...sunlight dims
My bare limbs...I white out
....air so still...
Am
I
dead?
A museum relic laid open, pinned down
Eternity is a real thing
And Mother is a snow fiend.
The powdered white dream of me--
Somewhere, there is a tree crying
It's overgrown with crystal
(and frozen things shatter)
True time surges in:
A storm mauling everything
True time purges it--
All chaos, all icy knives
And wind-driven mist
Demon kissed paradise
My body is salted with pain
My body bathed in acid rain
Naked
Trembling
Cold stone
All alone
I am the woman of the iron lake
I awake, raw under a bitter sky
The moon is a still life tonight
Caught in an iron tree
Like a pearl of jealousy
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 5:04 PM UTC
I
All all and all the dry worlds lever,
Stage of the ice, the solid ocean,
All from the oil, the pound of lava.
City of spring, the governed flower,
Turns in the earth that turns the ashen
Towns around on a wheel of fire.
How now my flesh, my naked fellow,
Dug of the sea, the glanded morrow,
Worm in the scalp, the staked and fallow.
All all and all, the corpse's lover,
Skinny as sin, the foaming marrow,
All of the flesh, the dry worlds lever.
II
Fear not the waking world, my mortal,
Fear not the flat, synthetic blood,
Nor the heart in the ribbing metal.
Fear not the tread, the seeded milling,
The trigger and scythe, the bridal blade,
Nor the flint in the lover's mauling.
Man of my flesh, the jawbone riven,
Know now the flesh's lock and vice,
And the cage for the scythe-eyed raver.
Know, O my bone, the jointed lever,
Fear not the screws that turn the voice,
And the face to the driven lover.
III
All all and all the dry worlds couple,
Ghost with her ghost, contagious man
With the womb of his shapeless people.
All that shapes from the caul and suckle,
Stroke of mechanical flesh on mine,
Square in these worlds the mortal circle.
Flower, flower the people's fusion,
O light in zenith, the coupled bud,
And the flame in the flesh's vision.
Out of the sea, the drive of oil,
Socket and grave, the brassy blood,
Flower, flower, all all and all.
2.7k
whispering rain tapping on the window
flooding my ears with sound, fluorescent
light screaming inside my brain, lift
your hands towards me again, you
won’t see me de nuevo. Wilt
beneath the demanding life you’ve beaten,
and maybe your fear will agitate
you, into a comatose state you
had put me in.,and hidden
me away from the world, mauling
innocence out of me with incremental,
unwanted touches that cannot be undone.
from handcuffs on wooden poles, foaming
mouths pouncing on my skin, melting
within myself as you drowned wearisome
unhinged fantasies onto me, and use
children for your pleasure to continue
terrorizing freely while we all trickle.
Oct 18, 2018
Oct 18, 2018 at 1:49 PM UTC
A tyrant king, a
Vandal’s scream
Of moor & rock
And fair I sing;
Life’s to its
Test, guer-
don of unrest,
&strife; believed!
Milked out
like utter red; lipids
****** hard
at birth: semi-
born: made
three legion’s ****
careful; cuz fate’s,
Allectus, mean.
Made in sheaths
An aural memor-
y lock, a- nswer ur
calling; tricky to
be bad &get; a-
way w/it! Caraus-
ius’s on guard
duty; he’s in.
Fog in chan-
nel; no lights:
Bware! Usurp-
ing cou- ntry,
mauling& killing men
To ob- tain
Power; @any
risk in Britain.
gold insignias!
shine ur lite!
greed can’t
pay—poenas dat!
Ascle-
piod-
otus
hears:
He, Allectus does a-
way w/.
Besei-
ge in London—rime
the trea-
sure al-
located;
Vain he found, good.
Crack souls’ ice;
To ruin comes
conceit, comes
that rip- ped part.
Ah, to p’wer& knifes
Like wo- rds...
P’wer slashes
Carves, &impales;.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
Leaping, leaping, leaping,
down line by line,
growling at the cadavers,
filling the holy jugs with their ****
falling into windows and mauling the parents,
but soft, kiss-soft,
and sobbing sobbing
into their awful dog dish.
No point? No twist for you
in my white tunnel?
Let me speak plainly,
let me whisper it from the podium--
Mother, may I use your pseudonym?
May I take the dove named Mary
and shove out Anne?
May I take my check book, my holographs,
my eight naked books,
and sign it Mary, Mary, Mary
full of grace?
I know my name is not offensive
but my feet hang in the noose.
I want to be white.
I want to be blue.
I want to be a bee digging into an onion heart,
as you did to me, dug and squatted
long after death and its fang.
Hail Mary, full of me,
Nibbling in the sitting room of my head.
Mary, Mary, ****** forever,
***** forever,
give me your name,
give me your mirror.
Boils fester in my soul,
so give me your name so I may kiss them,
and they will fly off,
nameless
but named,
and they will fly off like angel food dogs
with thee
and with thy spirit.
Let me climb the face of my kitchen dog
and fly off into my terrified years.
1.4k
What in whoever-the-hell's-up-there name am I doing?
Who am I to question history?
Follow the lines of this directed system,
Make yourself appear kind and gentle enough
To be accepted into afterlives put forth by humans
Who waste their here-lives mauling over what if's-
What if they're right?
But *whoever the hell I have to **** up to*, God, what if they're wrong?
Do I risk my spot among the great
In order to live the life I want to while I still know it's real?
I cannot question the tangibility of this world because the key word here-
Tangible- tangible, I can feel you, I can feel the grass
And I can feel these people and because you are real
I am not alone.
I cannot depend on something that isn't tactile, that isn't tangible
Because I cannot touch what I don't know
I cannot touch what can be speculated as unreal.
But who am I to judge what is real and unreal?
If there is nothing unreal to depend on, no god or supreme beings,
No something that is controlling my very being,
Then why do I chew on the idea that it could be real?
Tell me, what constitutes something real?
Jul 2, 2014
Jul 2, 2014 at 6:44 PM UTC
Unfinished
Emptiness a question enrobed in nothingness stillness cries across the void in its intolerable
State you stand the will wilts the eyes portray defeat and sorrow a searching longing is plainly evident
This powerful demanding current must be appeased chaos screams the idle continues his dreams
Faltering movements are all that is known a stationary seizure pervades the deadliest image an old
Amusement park dead and deserted a mocking sign proclaims thrills inside the torment rushes like
A stampeded herd it threatens sure death your own plaintive dead voice is heard in this arena of
Dispirited dashed hopes a mauling traumatized and once energetic hope filled spirit that trouble
Assailed Then fell back and then with the genius touch as you reeled it simply fell away your steps to
Recover Also ceased with the careless and deadliest words of all what is the point this has become your
Standard if titled in great black letters it would read lackluster lying in the dirt whipped defeated
Disgusted exiled in oblivions nowhere hope has had the first letter changed to D yes Dope in capital
Letters little do you Realize this is the very act of reconstruction the best military force in the world
Engages in this kind of training someone who has potential is the tried and true diamond in the rough a
Superior force is needed take the outward restraints off by reducing the individual to his base when you
Have destroyed the unfavorable elements then begin the renewing process that is clean and absent of
Impurities build with tried and true methods that produce heroes from fired kilns the blaze flared and a
New form emerges pure as refined brass but the man or woman is steeled into purity and honor and is
Made ready to pass into combats immortal glory whether it be military, business, or sacred duty of the
Church know this before just a nameless conflicted person little thought of will do exploits he will put
New building Blocks in societies ever increasing wall and maybe ultimately he will fulfill the words of
Jefferson and by blood sacrifice his patriotism will cause the tree of liberty to flourish because the call to
Fight for peace is never finished
Jan 29, 2012
Jan 29, 2012 at 6:19 PM UTC
Gnawing, that’s what you do
All of you
Dogs teeth on a bone
Mauling
Tearing
Shredding
Razorsharp
Gleam in the eye of the night
Blood stained fangs
Sink into your heart
Rip it apart
Smile
Woman
I am man’s best friend.
Everywhere.
Can’t escape
These Hounds
Fur caked with the blood of
The wounded and dead
***** Depraved Heartless Creature
You live in the shadows
Licking your teeth waiting for prey
Because it is only meat you crave
And the smell of it makes you raw with power
You are not noble, not high, not to be trusted
How many innocents have been betrayed
With your hollow words
The sudden flash of your knife
Your cold vicious stabbing
That says
I will love you over and over
With my dagger buried to its hilt while you cling
To my whisper
Until you trust nothing, believe nothing are nothing
You will be a rag doll of emptiness when I have taken
All from you.
And then my pack will come
pack after pack after pack
each like me
And you will be swallowed in the fury
Of my heartlessness
I am man’s best friend
And you are only
Woman
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 1:51 AM UTC
Falling
sprawled and appalling
on my face,
drooling disgrace, galling
Falling
in love and above, tall in
a flood of enough
smoothening rough, or mauling
Falling
down a dire spiral calling
tired warnings
fired down and bawling
Falling
on deaf ears boring when sure in
death near and above all, or fawning
Falling
in line and recalling
confines and rules in forming
Decisions, once and for all
Falling
The wayside supporting
weight and tired eyes, squalling
*But the feeling of falling is deceiving when believing that the subject moves around the ground
Which is dawning the befallen
When in feeling fallen I feel more than
I am moving but that the world has proven
That I am stuck while it rushes up
And I cannot catch up or take much
Protection from the projected connection
Of the rocky bottom on my rocked cheek
The breath inside me left to hide in a better guest
For life's essential and potentials
Falling to me is not easy humiliation, or needy contemplation,
Only lungs devoid from the impact deployed
And the same dirt, on my tongue and gums, curt
My eyes, unhurt, can never avoid*
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 2:21 PM UTC
“The mind is its own place, and in itself can make a heaven of hell, a hell of heaven..”― John Milton, Paradise Lost
____________________________________________________________________________________
Consider the mind
in whose deep caverns find
scatterings of memories
prismatically displaced.
Red recollections
that still incur wrath and venom,
arguments long forgotten.
Green recollections
emanate warmth that kindles
innocent times recalled.
Blue recollections
mauling at this bogus tranquillity,
scratching and tearing,
leaving oozing welts that fester
into melancholy.
Now hold this mirror shard
to these memories’ light:
watch the beams discordant
ricochet, obtuse, acute,
chaotically flaring into momentary awareness.
Consider the mind ...
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 3:06 PM UTC
Sunset
by Michael R. Burch
This poem is dedicated to my grandfather, George Edwin Hurt, who died April 4, 1998.
Between the prophecies of morning
and twilight’s revelations of wonder,
the sky is ripped asunder.
The moon lurks in the clouds,
waiting, as if to plunder
the dusk of its lilac iridescence,
and in the bright-tentacled sunset
we imagine a presence
full of the fury of lost innocence.
What we find within strange whorls of drifting flame,
brief patterns mauling winds deform and maim,
we recognize at once, but cannot name.
Keywords/Tags: sunset, aging, death, grandfather, grandson, grandchild, family, grave, funeral, loss, twilight, night, transcendence, heaven
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 9:57 PM UTC
Every word
a land mine
buried under thick skin
drowned in venom
mauling at teeth
a shoreline shudder
Hardened men
tiptoe around a sentence
a rosebush infested
crawling with
depraved lions
masked in solitude
and then the pounce
the way
boiling a *** of water
brings a blizzard
the way
a twig snaps underfoot
in the dead of night
the way
a clenched jaw
met a quiet tongue
at a cafe
called each other
red
dead
underfed
and one to another said
where do we go?
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 8:51 PM UTC
It’s too comfortable to write
In light so bright my sarcasm wont bite
So I’d rather wax intellectual in the freezing cold
Let my icy lungs ****
In some tar and I’ll
Hold everything I say
As
True
If only we could compile clues
We’d see
All the bodies we buried to be moderately happy
But still I’ve done worse things
While eye’s rolled in the back of their heads
Averting your vision
Can be the only tactic in your book
Of smarmy one liners
That all seem to be blunt remarks about my size
Which is fine
Worse things have been said
During diner conversations
We counted off the ways in music how we’d be a bonnie and Clyde
And if the220 razor wires grins sewed of mouths off cheating friends
88 sharp teeth gleaming, of devilish plots we were scheming
52 white knuckles clenched over getaway cars, or benches in parks watching false stars
36 black stares something about face mauling and bears, but I didn’t care that we only had
7 seconds to make it out with the money
5 eye’s wide open to ceiling fans or a lack their of
1 reason to wake up
And in such a way we could be writing pings on sound recorders put it just goes silent with the senseless bashing of fists on porcelain/.
but in the end we can only hope it means nothing
or as empty as air
or as simple as breathing
-Kevin T
Jun 17, 2010
Jun 17, 2010 at 10:19 PM UTC
I crack the brickle bone and then carve back
through muscle taut with cell memory,
past tendons that could never teach us love.
We were bone on bone all the way.
I slice past ridges where my fingertips once danced,
filet the contours of youthful sighs, where repeated
good-byes were a chance to begin again.
This carcass is rotting, and the back and forth sawing
from a knife that's grown too dull for its mauling
has left my hands itching from the putrid remains.
Stand by, watch the blood congeal on the ground.
I guess you can never cleanly cleave the meat that's been
hanging so long in your backyard.
Just let it drop:
the roast,
the ****
See how the bones settle into the soil.
Who knows what might grow there?
Apr 2, 2015
Apr 2, 2015 at 1:44 PM UTC
In the amber of a late October,
altered by illness
and a mauling from friends, we have
come again to London, and come
one to the other,
in truth, it seems
for the first time
in twenty-something years.
These are our days.
Above us, white lines from Heathrow
streak across the sky and a silver
airplane flashes in the tawny sun,
its underwing turned gold.
Ahead is Christmas. Outside
the bang-blast of fireworks, and
the tread of traffic dancing
to the drum of what must be done.
Not us, not now.
In here, our clothes removed, our skin
cells open, one to the other,
once a day, we practice: love.
And the stillness
of the season holds us, bathed
in something more than kindness.
It was you who led, as male
desire is wont to do, ***** unyielding,
it cut to our truth. And I who thought of practice:
that Buddhist word, that way
to be, to being
in the place that one is in.
So now we meet each evening to meld
the passing and the coming life
suspended
clothes off, upon a cushioned floor,
each time (it seems) anew,
each stroke the first, again,
in hours that know just what they hold
in this, our stilly autumn
in these, our golden days.
Feb 18, 2010
Feb 18, 2010 at 12:44 AM UTC
Through the sea of flames
I pursue to fulfill this
shadow quest of mine,
governing my ark
recklessly against the winds
of mauling doubts, toward you.
May 24, 2017
May 24, 2017 at 4:18 PM UTC
Why won't you let me **** you?
How much force does it take to squeeze the life out of you?
Why do you persist such agonies and endure your strife being beat down into the mud? A vortex of emotions running rampant, but in the blink of an eye, consumed and swallowed whole. Now there is an empty and sick acre. And though the leaves are green on the other side of the fence, i sit here bound to you.
Time has become a mind numbing drug that i hav egrown impervious to over the years. I no longer have the dirt left to bury you. The only hope for me was to **** you but here you persist. Neither narcotics nor psychoanalysis got rid of you. I could not fit you in any container.
Unrelenting, savage, corrupted, mauling and swiping at me. Sleep was a temporary escape but you found a way into that world as well.
It seems i will forever carry you on my shoulders. My burden to bear, my medal of shame, a trophy of my failings, a banner proudly flying in the rainy nights.
So why can't i **** you?
Is it because you are a memory?
Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 9:26 AM UTC
They linger outside my room I hear them exhale
as the paint peels like snow flakes falling slowly
to the floor. Its only wood mahogany it think,
"nice, cost enough. I heard them mauling the
surface cleaving at different points as if a weakness
was to give way.
They bait me to see if I would gaze upon the shadows
that linger just past the door... I touch one with my
finger seething discomfort carries over my skin.
Murmurs sing lullabies at the corner of the hinges
they seem to get hotter with every tone that settles down.
I cant seem to contemplate its words, but it sings.
I look around my sheltered room, the windows are just
a look out to nothingness, I am like a flower in need of
sunlight to blossom. but I am withered I'm suffocating
with my own deliberation. Have you heard the same
thought repeated in angles you never realized were
possible, every word deconstructed and syringed within.
Do you realize that a room even though with its formed
angles becomes nothing but a blur, patterns in writings
that migrate along my sight of vision. I'm a mine canary
trapped in a cage, and my only escape is the wishful thinking
of when will this gas seep within and silence my yearnings.
But I still breath, they mould the features of my prison in whispers.
I throw my features in random rotations to find even a
fissure that will be a keyhole to my eventual releasing.
But where my essence tries to evacuate they burn my
sanity and I scream in oscillating repetition and they just
seem to think nothing of my afflictions. I am a prisoner
within their walls. I will consume them when they fall.
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
from the delightful pinch of your waist
is effused the mauling senility of your
forgetting smell
(which like cudgels' dozing blows
wreak the apt obliteration
of my normally conscience
)
and i'm a can'thelpit
but kiss dubiously
pressing down
the quake of
your
ecstatically
expecting stomach
(at when reaches
the ultimate cusp
of your brimming
ecstasy pulpit
my deft oral precisely
)
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 9:58 PM UTC