"repellent" poems
He smiles.
His future is thought out.
His favorite color is yellow.
He can speak Spanish.
I frown.
My future is a mystery.
My favorite color is black.
I speak only English.
He's talented. I'm worthless.
He's a charmer. I'm a repellent.
He's hardworking. I'm spoiled.
He cherishes. I push away.
Can our opposites really attract?
Maybe in one way.
Fore he is the light that brightens my darkness.
But I shall not be the darkness that destroys
his light.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
Today I went on a treasure hunt.
Not in search of one-eyed *****
Or
A new life for myself,
But rather
The old one.
Not for the sake of nostalgia
Was my search,
But for a poem.
The words of someone else
That you thoroughly believed
Carried your heart
Into my own ears.
But I was deaf back then.
Before I developed my selective hearing,
Insisting on my revelation miracle.
Until I
Limited my ears
Only to hear
Your lamentations and tongue-lashings;
Before I chose to
Blind myself
To the
Kindness
Hidden behind your fear.
In our prehistory,
You sent me
A piece of your heart,
Still sopping with heartbreak
Beating with rejection.
You sent me
Someone else’s poem
And now I wonder,
If you knew
You were planting a seed
That when watered,
With months of silence and
Countless looks that passed right through,
Would grow into a beanstalk
That I would climb
To reach back into
Our
Brothers Grimm Love Affair.
With no happy ending in sight
I stepped higher,
Knowing what turmoil I had left
Above.
I awaited the curses we cast
And the wishes we wasted
And I was poised for war;
With my armor coated,
Repellent of
Sarcasm and aggression,
I marched back to look at our battlefield
Ready as any warrior.
I was not ready, though, for memories
That looked as appealing
As Prince Charming,
With the face of
A queen.
No, my love
We did not have a
Happily ever after
But, our
Once upon a time
Wasn't half so wretched.
We were the
Fairytale in reverse.
Meeting at the ball,
In all our glory.
Leaving breadcrumbs
Back to the life that was familiar;
The ones that we didn't realize
We were running away from.
But at the ball,
Looking more beautiful
Than any princess in all of the land,
I met you
On your throne,
Refusing to Rise
In all your queen-like splendor,
Hearing from my
Little bird
That you would request
My presence.
I, your humble maiden,
Approached with
The caution of
A girl who only had
One shoe,
Breaking under the weight of memory.
And while you
Were offering me riches,
I was playing
Goldilocks,
Trying to find the home
That was just right
To rest my heart.
Little did I know
That I had bumped into Rumpelstiltskin,
Thinking he was gold
Luring me away
With me thinking
My heart was sold.
Only now
After I found
That gold weighs
Far too heavy
On someone
Who's only just grown wings
Is it that I find the moral of this story.
And so,
As I gaze at you,
With your now fair maiden
I say a solemn
“Thank you”,
For sending
Your love letter
In another's handwriting,
Because,
Although I never struck it rich,
I realize that the treasure was not in the
Happily ever after,
After all,
But all the magic
In Between.
May 25, 2015
May 25, 2015 at 3:10 AM UTC
Purposes as incomprehensible and wonderful as these purposes
Either you had no purpose or the purpose is beyond the end
The purpose of sitting is not to be satisfied or satiated
Because the timepiece not only serves a purpose, it is adapted to that
purpose
Except it was a secret purpose
The world is a mental activity, a dream of souls, without foundation,
purpose, weight or shape
People in collective idleness are even more repellent than when purpose
motivates them
God, glass, my townspeople! For what purpose?
His purpose and mine is to catch photons and store them in our bones
Lately, as have you, I have thought about our war and its purpose
To have a season for every purpose, Ecclesiastes was right about that
Names of plants, languages of mammals, purposes of insects, placement
of rocks
My friend who is counselor to kings and presidents never lacks purpose
To what purpose, April, do you return again?
Not to say there is no purpose necessarily, I just don’t immediately get it
Stately purposes, valor in battle, glorious annals of army and fleet, death
for the right cause
Use of violence by the local militia for a limited purpose, protect the
young from the janjaweed, the crop from the ****
The knight, the penitent misses last assessment of life’s purpose,
babbling for God to appear
I mean your entire purpose should be living, you must take living
seriously
Sleep with a purpose
Or lose all purpose beyond ****** child *** and food hoarding
Counting is associated with primitive forms of writing, that is the
purpose of poetry
The purpose of school is to introduce us to the world’s innumerable
wonders
Their corners sharp, their lines exact, as if their purpose was to show
the plane geometry of snow
That’s when everything becomes clear, purpose v. purposelessness
matters less
Lonely physics, national purpose
This then is the purpose of purposelessness (and of eating less)!
We will live with the question What was our purpose?
If we are not at home in the world, contributing purpose, we lose our
desire to stay here—and we die
The men who left the machine have started their own business, a new
endeavor by which they will keep warm and purposeful
You go the way of an unknown soldier, unable to assess the purpose of
the battle
Let Greece then know my purpose I retain, nor vex with new treaties my
peace in vain
And shake the purpose of my soul no more
May 8, 2017
May 8, 2017 at 5:43 AM UTC
I could've sworn I saw a younger version of you
going in the opposite direction on High Street
I wanted to stop and say something
But I had to die a gruesome death
It's just that you looked like the edition of you
I'm ashamed to have tainted
And we've been down this road before...
Like the time we saw that guy hit that telephone pole
I knelt in the muck with a stranger in my arms
His fleeting life transfixed me to his world
But once life returned
My interest was gone
Similar to the time I saw that fox dying in the street
I left the solitude of my car to gaze into it's primal eyes
Without communication
All we could do was cry together
I couldn't decide whether to **** it or care for it
So I did neither
And just drove off
I understand it may seem cowardly
But the thought of it living and continuing
to suffer and survive was too beautiful
And the thought of responsibly nurturing it was too repellent
Not to mention those things can be dangerous
no matter how small they appear
I guess what I'm saying is bad things happen when I leave my car
Usually, I drive with the windows up and the doors locked
Loneliness fills the cabin
I opened my doors but nobody entered
Only tears filled the cabin
They cascaded out onto the road
Forming ice in the subzero winds
I lost all control
And just before I crashed
I could've sworn I saw a younger version of you
going in the opposite direction on High Street
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 5:20 PM UTC
Does anyone here know of a canine murderer?
As I urgently need someone to bash the living **** out of
My fat ugly neighbour's disgusting Yorkshire terrier.
Oh Holy God, How I want the little ******* mutt to suffer.
I’d love to see it choking and coughing its head off;
Yorkshire terriers are the most repulsive things since sliced bread,
Yappy, repellent smelly little ***** of malevolent fur.
They only appeal when wriggling feebly at a rope’s end.
Woof! Woof! Woof! Gurgle! Gurgle!
Silence.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
“Have you seen a broken man? “
Ah, a broken man.
With a broken soul trying to gather all the shattered pieces
to put it all back together.
The eyes, which seem appealing, yet ironically are, devastated
Trying to find their release.
The shivering hands, wrinkled
which put all efforts to not reach the kitchen
and pick up the knife.
The stomach which can’t help but give collywobbles
as giving the butterflies or even the slight content from
the scanty amount of happiness
seems to require the world’s strength
To hide the pain and shove it inside the blanket
and never let it peep out.
The legs which have lost control
as laying in bed with the pillow that remains soggy
has become wonted over time
Time
which brings with it absolute nothingness
not a single blob of diversion or bliss.
The mind that tries to figure out ways
to escape from the crowd and vanish into solitude as
nothing else seems to give pleasure.
The eyes which have become unaware of any chore,
Other than holding back the heavy flow of the saline drops
descending down the cheeks
Unremitting.
As being sensitive is
probably the most irking and repellent trait one can possess.
The heart that longs to disappear into the abyss
never wanting to come back
pleading Him to take away his life
As the only release,
the only emancipation
he hit upon was eluding from the mayhem
and give up on holding his very last breath.
“Yes, I have seen a broken man and to tell you, it’s the scariest thing I’ve ever seen.”
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 5:55 AM UTC
At no time in my deranged youth
Did I ever grasp the full breadth of the truth.
A living death is sown by us alone,
In a paradox of pestilence
We are our own entropy.
From a rancid repellent abyss
I have climbed forth,
Cloaked in your memory
I storm forward, knowing that I shall not falter
There upon the alter of life's trials
I found a token of acceptance, a funerary charm.
From the dust of a bygone age I will mark my place.
Your hand grips like the talon of an eagle,
I found salvation in your touch and cellular synthesis in your stare.
Now months past the playful begginings, now,
I find your skin particles still cling to me,
Magnetized, electric connections, remind me of our bonds.
Though ******* so perfect, would make slaves of nations
Swayed beneath the legions of laughter marching forth from your mouth.
I cannot crucify your image, though I martyr myself in your name,
In the depths of my shame, your gentle presence remained,
A mirror to the pain, a white blouse stitched, lightly parted lips,
Bring back that ethereal face for one day,
It helped me to battle, and brave the night,
The fight I fought, was for your touch alone.
Now you touch me with different hands,
You choose how you touch, I take what I can get.
It is the meaning behind the caress that abolishes my regrets.
Sep 10, 2012
Sep 10, 2012 at 7:01 AM UTC
Remembrance in November grows repellent
each year we rob it further of its sense
by hunting down objectors to compel them
to stand in line or cause a grave offense.
No private contemplation or reflection
when strident shrieks of nationhood prevail
Un-poppied collars count as insurrection
a slight to every brave, red-blooded male.
Division, thumping drums and waving banners
the media wades in with guns ablaze
forgetful of respect, or simple manners –
that’s not how we conduct ourselves these days
If this is what our fallen heroes wanted
I wonder why the cenotaph is haunted.
We cannot know what sent the soldiers hither
or claim the fallen courage of the fight
think boys who marched to foreign fields together
were simple symbols drawn in black and white
If we could rise above the spite and chatter
We’d find unbordered bonds and understand
that shells and bullets lacked the strength to shatter
the looking glass that straddled no man’s land
From timid chaps to lunatic berserkers
we canonise the men who heard the call
if wives had had the power to shoot deserters
there never would have been a war at all.
Let’s render restless spirits more forgiving:
to honour best the dead, honour the living.
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 3:05 PM UTC
The beer is flowing
All hot and high,
Insect repellent on the house-
A restaurant by the roadside.
The streets a little easy
Now that the tears have dried,
But the population still dress in black
For the year the King had died.
I’ve been doing a little dying too,
All the faces I have been,
All the places, all the names;
All the waste I’ve come to see.
It piled in the entryway,
Too many obstacles to leave,
Too desperate to sit and stay,
Witness the death of the autumn leaves.
Too much steady state back at home,
Over here, it’s chaos in the streets,
Used to take a pill to make me calm;
I used to lie and steal and cheat.
I used to have a drink to **** the day,
Now I take a load off of my feet,
Nurse it back and eat well and full;
There’s no trouble in falling asleep.
I see the waitress get a head massage
In the middle of the working day,
I mind my manners a thousand times
Still, my brain does not behave.
*** lingers on every corner,
In every blind-alley retreat,
Every time she smiles at me,
Or hands me my receipt.
Now I sing for life and I sing for death
And neither is full of fear,
Sometimes I tell the world to go to hell-
But at least I sound sincere.
At least my poetry is full of me
And not the absence in between
When I wake in this sober state;
When I fall down to my knees.
This is not the perfect life,
I would never claim it was,
But it’s a thousand shades brighter now,
In the shifting of the fog.
My notebooks are all clean and new,
My eyes alight with love.
This is what true living means,
This is not what dying does.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 12:28 PM UTC
every year she cut the biggest and brightest
keeping them in a brown bagged pantry to dry out
reaching in to crumble them at season
winnowing the chaff to wind
like her mother and aunties before her
back home in their island paradise
a magical notion
jostling seeds in slow motion
looking like crests on the ocean
neither too high nor too low
broken petals fly free
as seeds fall back of their own gravity
the kids would come ‘round
as projects kids do
to watch and maybe try something new
she would pass them an old melamine plate
a small handful of crumblings to ply
tossing and scooching to catch them again
crimson reds and magentas
lemony yellows
monarch butterfly oranges
violet and lavender purples
crowning petals layered
resembling elizabethan collars
they caught the morning
protected by snail and slug repellent
people came from all around
to admire her oversized zinnias
occasionally picking one and running
garden’s variety of dine and dash
we gifted them to mourners
small packets of zinnia’s seed
extolling them as one of her favorites
soil, water and sunshine
all you need to sow and grow
and watch the memories bloom
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 3:57 AM UTC
How can you be my friend if you envy me?
How can you be my friend if you have a heart not free?
How can you say you love me when love you've yet to see?
How can you tell me you support me when half the time yourself you cannot be?
And memories there are
chuckles and deep thoughts shared
Now situation delivers pain and tears are shed
A friend you'd still be when nothing's said
But insecurity has to intervene
oblivious of the fact that you do not love thee
However it may seem you have issues that are real
However it may seem I have scars and wounds that are deep
Given into negative emotion, our friendship would be over and seem like a dream
over like a dream for your self is all that matters, how are we a team?
You talk behind my back about my flaws
all the things that you secretely abhor
Out you go then, there's the door.
How can you be my friend if you use me?
How can you be my friend if you fear to lose me? Rather than cherish to have me
How can you be my friend if you continually bruise me?
How can you be my friend if you find it hard to fuse with me?
I am my own friend in my head
Hence have I the heart to find comfort in giving
Often reluctant to be on the end of receiving
Tolerant of impositions perilous and demeaning
I am the strange guy whom to most has no meaning
Who is a diamond once I start winning
I have been searching for fungi repellent
To avoid parasites that feed on a heart excellent
Our friends can be enemies, that's rebellion
If you cannot treat me as friend, like I would, goodbye then.
Aug 2, 2013
Aug 2, 2013 at 2:09 AM UTC
*did you buy all of this on credit
and can you do without
going to ceremonies for awhile
look what higher learning
and empty rituals have given you
a distrust for humanity
and all that's truly valuable
are you a nihilist or a solipsist
what a life to be so twisted
like an elliptical esophagus
so strange the way we spell things
what would we do without
spellcheck or a dictionary these days
is a thesaurus a dinosaur or a literary device
the swelling went down
right in time for your dialectical revival
while didactic strange attractors are strangely repellent
selective attackers leave your marriages despondent
disparaged orthodontists leave fluids on your face
still you wipe your chin with sandpaper
and leave greasy finger stains in their place
fluoride is a bargain complete with its own argument
and quite often batteries are not included
but that doesn’t mean you’ll never use them
for what's a *** toy to do
if its lacking its adjacent latex compartments
or if you're really just not in the mood
i guess this human body will have to do
grooving to the music is all about our choosing to
becoming outdated or faded like a tax evader
these equations are meaningless
when you are fermented with libations
if you drink more amber liquid would you be negated
relevant for a moment and then
just as quickly discarded as a piece of paper
the receipts we diligently saved
are just as well used to light your fireplaces*
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 12:49 PM UTC
I visited my girlfriend in the hospital
after her appendicitis operation.
she looked good
and her smile made me smile
"I made a friend," she told me.
There had been another girl in the room with her
and this girl,
she was in the hospital because she sprayed a whole
can of bug repellent into a cup and drank it
"Why?" I asked.
"Oh, well," said my girlfriend. "You wouldn't understand.
Let's just say she wanted to **** the butterflies
in her stomach."
"Okay."
Jun 5, 2019
Jun 5, 2019 at 6:06 AM UTC
I feel a struggle within
Two mind sets on on health the on a career
Only if the two would weave together
Instead of repellent for one another
Don't like how everythings like a contradiction
Not sure how to handle the situation
But know it must be done!
I want things to change and frustrated it hasn't happened.
More time spent on becoming someone I'm not
Instead of being the person I'm meant to be
Don't be this way don't do that
I'd like to be hearing that's what you should be doing ir your doing right on the path to destiny
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC
where is your voice in this repulse
for I have no voice to praise
it has scattered the beautiful storm
while a hideous laughter resounds
and burns like a revived repellent
oh what is this repulse, what is it so
that makes me weep assumptions
and forces life to take leave of my anguish
my senses my consciousness
what is this repulse, tell what is this repulse
is it that of a communication that jumps back
that causes the soul to vibrate continuously
in riotous unison with the universe
what is this repulse, is it hate, is it hate
Jan 16, 2014
Jan 16, 2014 at 8:27 PM UTC
ON LOOKING AT SCHILLER’S SKULL
by Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
loose translation/interpretation by Michael R. Burch
Here in this charnel-house full of bleaching bones,
like yesteryear’s
fading souvenirs,
I see the skulls arranged in strange ordered rows.
Who knows whose owners might have beheaded peers,
packed tightly here
despite once repellent hate?
Here weaponless, they stand, in this gentled state.
These arms and hands, they once were so delicate!
How articulately
they moved! Ah me!
What athletes once paced about on these padded feet?
Still there’s no hope of rest for you, lost souls!
Deprived of graves,
forced here like slaves
to occupy this overworld, unlamented ghouls!
Now who’s to know who loved one orb here detained?
Except for me;
reader, hear my plea:
I know the grandeur of the mind it contained!
Yes, and I know the impulse true love would stir
here, where I stand
in this alien land
surrounded by these husks, like a treasurer!
Even in this cold,
in this dust and mould
I am startled by an a strange, ancient reverie, …
as if this shrine to death could quicken me!
One shape out of the past keeps calling me
with its mystery!
Still retaining its former angelic grace!
And at that ecstatic sight, I am back at sea ...
Swept by that current to where immortals race.
O secret vessel, you
gave Life its truth.
It falls on me now to recall your expressive face.
I turn away, abashed here by what I see:
this mould was worth
more than all the earth.
Let me breathe fresh air and let my wild thoughts run free!
What is there better in this dark Life than he
who gives us a sense of man’s divinity,
of his place in the universe?
A man who’s both flesh and spirit—living verse!
Keywords/Tags: Goethe, Schiller, skull, bones, charnel, house, grave, souls, ghosts, spirit, flesh, death, shrine, divinity, universe
Sep 25, 2020
Sep 25, 2020 at 4:02 AM UTC
Swimming in the West Nile since 1965
Born from stagnant water
Infecting the mind
30 days to leave a mark on the world
Recycled 300 plus
Molt your skin after the larvae stage
Shedding of the epidermis
Developing into a conscious virus
Fogged up in bug spray
Diptera Culicidae
This is important
Wear repellent
Cover all exposed skin
Apr 24, 2011
Apr 24, 2011 at 9:03 AM UTC
thousands sit
on lawn chairs
in summer grass
amid the smell of bug repellent, charcoal grills and
gunpowder
ears filled with pop, bang, poppity-pop
from a sparkling spectacle above
for a fleck of time, in the long blue stretch of night
all eyes are fixed on one thing
together
looking at heavens
without words
only light
that leaves as quickly as it came
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
There's one question
In particular I despise:
What's new?
Because I am pressured
To explain how different
My life has become.
I rather not
Admit its bin has
Overflowed with
Redundant files.
You will scowl when I say,
"For me, every day is a slight
Variation of what has preceded.
There's nothing new to mention."
A conversation repellent for sure.
(c) 2015 Brandon Antonio Smith
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 9:41 AM UTC
We set off for a long weekend,
Does this Carmageddon ever end?
Eventually, we arrive,
That was a long hot drive!
See our tent as it collapses!
"He" does bust all his synapses!
I unpack, rain commences,
"Let's go home!" he mentions,
Yeah, right, now the dog wants loo,
Did I bring a coat and gumboots too?
Armed escort of mosquitoes,
Forgot insect repellent, oh Woe!
Never mind, not long to go,
Finally made it all the way home,
A weekend of staring at the rain,
Last word to him I say,
"I am never going camping again!"
(And no more I did)... from my brain,
The poet in someone's heart,
From indoor ablutions, I'll never part.........
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 3:54 PM UTC
My skin crawls in your presence now.
This aversion is painfully present,
deep-seated, inexorable.
My antipathy
I feel for you is
pushing
back.
Grinding away the
rind of my rib-cage,
I will not let the disease reach my
organs.
My fragile lungs
my tender heart.
The veil of insects and filth
lifted
upon realization that it is time for me to go.
Weaponizing insect repellent
for the pursuit of freedom.
May 21, 2020
May 21, 2020 at 12:19 AM UTC
She cannot see her beauty
It’s hidden by the lies
She cannot see her luminous skin
Or the starlight in her eyes
Her incandescent smile she cannot discern
Nor glimpse heaven with autumn hair
She finds no bloom in her rose kissed lips
The mirrors scorn she cannot bear
She loathes her form, her gaze only shows
Repellent, gross, uncouth
But the Maker’s hand has glorious woman shaped
If she could only see the truth
Her splendor revealed is radiance unbound
Making others seem weak and pale
And though Elysium descried, she sightless remains
Concealed by a hideous veil
I’ll wage my war against hell’s deceit
That her vision could be set free
And one day her eyes would be opened
To the beauty she cannot see
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
Green Coleman lanterns hung over the water , craving the humid night , nocturnal creatures bathed in the artificial lights ....
The metronomic crash of breakers on the aluminum hulled vessel , baiting hooks and tying gear by flashlight or sheer memory .. Horned Owls , Killdeer and Whippoorwills filled the dark night with haunting songs , the crash of bass and topwater shellcrackers would chill the blood for a moment , cause you to breathe in deep , exhale out loud .... The aroma of lake water , insect repellent and cigar smoke , chewing on a plug of Bloodhound , strained eyes concentrating on nothing but that bobber , waiting on that tasty fish to take it and run ....
Working your piece of the lake till the early morning Sun ....
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 6:34 PM UTC
Zippy sez:
“Shark repellent Bat Spray!"
“Shark repellent Bat Spray!"
“Shark repellent Bat Spray!"
At least three times a day day
Between lug-nuts and Valvoline
He shows us the in between
Polka-dotted yellow-red muu-muu
Absurdist existentialist
Shows us how to do-do.
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC