"repulsed" poems
Do you hate the way
that our magnetized times
turn us all to metal shavings--
push and pull--charged each
day to fill up negative space
with negative attraction?
Were you repulsed when polarities
changed?
Or was that me?
Flipping switches
switching sides
siding
with pivot points showing, caught
with pants down?
"Be a man now!"
While the female end
of the port calls out,
"Shipwreck! Shipwreck!
All men down!"
Count me out at minus 4
it leaves a balance: minus 3
At minus 10, our blood could freeze
and fall back earthward; blood red snow.
Caught on the tongue it tastes like pennies.
Tastes just like
the metal shavings
we become
in magnetized times.
Polarized
and "Family Sized." Underpaid
Overfed. Neutralized America.
Greatest country in the ******* world.
Right?
Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
The name Theodore has its Greek anthropologies, Jewish anthropologies and also Germany anthropologies. The Greek anthropological perspective of The name Theodore indeed has something to do with the gods.However, the Greek way of looking at life was a frustrated thinking.To them everything was a god. They had a plethora of gods; utopia,cacotopia, Thespis, muse, clio, calypso, and Theodore was a half a god like Gabriel who impregnanted Mary on behalf of God as Joseph the cuckold carpenter patiently looked musing the ballad of a cuckold peasant . So Theodore and Gabriel were godsend.I have not delved to know what it means among the Jews, But am aware of the the cultural and anthropological surroundings of the name Theodore in Germany . It is a name of a male person signifying extra-masculine behavior. I also write poetry in Deutsch, so i know substantial cultural values of the people of Germany. Like in this case the modern social naming systems . I am aware of the anthropology of this Deutsch nomenclatural position.Why would link this name to Greeks but not Germany may due to some silent social and emotional disposition in Europe that the English speaking Europeans have a soft spot for the Greek culture.While at the same time they become victims of high adrenaline level when exposed to anything Germany. they always get repulsed when the word Germany is mentioned.So one's thesis on nomenclatural values of the name Theodore depends on which side of European consciousness one is found; is it Germany friendly consciousness or Germany threatened consciousness? The dystopic component of the name Theodore is purely cacotopic with zero element of utopia , as extra-masculinity is a swine of engendered civilization all the times.
Yours
Alexander k Opicho
NB/ i kindly invite Theodore to come to Kenya so that we do a joint research on the Swahili perspectives of the name Theodore, in Kiswahili the name Theodore is subverted to bwana tadayo
Jan 22, 2014
Jan 22, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Locked down nineteen hours
Five hours he plays
That’s the way the prisoner
Whiles away his days
On death row for the murders
Of his wife and son
Locked in a four foot nine cell
For the crime he’s done
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Decomposing and headless
In San Francisco Bay
He said she was missing
But she was found that way
His son’s lifeless fetus
Had previously washed ashore
Which repulsed everyone
Even that much more
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Her family were all hoping
She’d be found alive
Though he knew she was dead
He feigned concern (what jive)
She was weighted down
Which made him quite convinced
That she’d never be found
Floating in that rinse
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
While they were contemplating
Their poor loved one’s fate
His only concern was
Which chick he should date
See he had to satisfy
An internal itch
But karma is a mother for ya
It can be a *****
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Four years down and counting
See I’ve done the math
It’s death by lethal injection
For that sick sociopath
Cedric McClester, Copyright (c) 2016. All rights reserved.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 10:31 AM UTC
One heart,
born in whole,
Free from all captivity.
Not a slave,
nor care,
Beating for one,
Myself.
Two hearts,
one of the other,
made to feed and grow.
Beating for me,
Mother.
Torn hearts, inseparable, separated.
Lost to the world,
by choice of deception.
The curse begins.
The seeking heart,
Beats for another.
One piece lost,
Destined to recover.
Absent of nurture,
Wicked, wicked,
Stepmother.
Repelled, repulsed, shamed.
Uprooted,
over and over again,
Homesick.
Adulthood,
weirdness and awkward.
With a childs desperate heart.
Hopelessly hopeful,
Helplessly lost.
Found love,
Beautiful love,
lasting love.
My lover,
Deception, infidelity,
Another piece lost.
The cycle continues.
The seeking heart,
Desperate to replace,
What was lost long ago.
Ten times over.
Realization, awakening, awareness.
This piece left,
Peace of heart,
Beats for one,
It's my own.
No longer captive,
Nor a seeking slave.
This last piece,
Freed for me.
Oct 1, 2011
Oct 1, 2011 at 10:47 AM UTC
Lately when I've been walking,
I find myself staring at the sidewalk.
Thinking "I should just lay down,"
as if the sidewalk is the perfect place
for a defeated nap.
Lately when I've been working
I find myself unable to concentrate.
Words move around on the screen
and my brain can't keep up with my eyes.
Reading only to instantly forget.
Lately when my phone rings
I panic a little.
Fearing whatever is on the other end
is something that isn't conducive
to peace.
Lately I have started to wonder
If I was mistaken to hide my sickness,
to hide my pain.
Because now I can't hide it,
and the perception of me becomes
a crying wolf.
Yet I've always felt this way,
just with lips sewn shut.
Lately when I've been eating
I am repulsed by food.
My throat rejects it;
unable to swallow.
No appetite,
neglecting the consequences;
the hallow weakness.
Lately I've felt like
I am slowly killing myself.
Adrenal gland pumping,
at all hours of the day;
heart grieving;
stomach on strike;
body screaming.
Lately I've been trying to get better
but I can't tell if it's working.
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 10:06 AM UTC
You can feel it as i speak
By the way i write when you read
That it is weird to be in your shoes
To infiltrate your mind, to see the truth
To experience the unique existence of being you.
But it is sort of sad
That with each visit i get mad
And repulsed
By the lack of trust
And the hate we take to tolerate love.
And we love ,but not ourselves
And we explore the void in search for help.
But i say Empathy is a lie
We must depend on each other
For the future to be bright
Fellowship won't be experienced untill you unite with the other.
Words Of Harfouchism.
Nov 3, 2018
Nov 3, 2018 at 11:38 AM UTC
Countless series of melancholic oceans
Hitting through waves of adversity
Only to be repulsed by provocations
Disjointed affections falls effortlessly
With no such contemporary feelings
Choked amongst the walls of solitary
Praying silently for a better ending
A hopeless romantic it seems evidently
Voyaging away from the sufferings
Patching holes of memories
Rekindling fire from breathing
Dreams torn away in fantasies
Sober desires creates a lustful reality
Shone away ignoring a truthful beginning
Nothing can hold us against this treachery
Forsaken our love has left me begging
©2014 Maman Screams
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 12:21 PM UTC
Pretty brown **** smeared on the floor
Birthed an enigma of the unknown,
Crapped a lot of questions to go unanswered
Leaving me found dumb with no culprit in sight
But he left me his smell.
Oh and it smelled profusely
When the dog came in and with one lick
Wiped it up, his eyes full of ***** flavor
And I, repulsed, upchucked my meal,
Sat back and watched him eat that with pleasure too.
Sep 25, 2012
Sep 25, 2012 at 7:00 PM UTC
crimson and magic
to splash without panic
in waves of compliance
for drugs made from science
and sorceress who summon the simple solutions
illusions! illusions!
of grander worth loosing
confusing the process will aid not for coptic
nor catholic
or elsewhere semantics
act frantic in panic
to sob without reason
treason! say treason!
the exit of reason
to wander in wander a fate beyond yonder
set ponder a path set by mind on the map
of solutions and systems
domestic conditions
yet wild apparitions
appear as conditioned - concerns
to a mindset as stern and subtracted
by fractions of actions repulsed by distraction
disgruntled reactions
supposing contractions
created the action
conceived from distractions
The reasons
let change be for seasons
while i stay the rock in the pond
either frozen not gone
as the watcher
still watching
content upon watching
exhaling the notion
that motions for movement
atonement! atonement!
with further consolement
atlas like the breeze of the gavel
let both parties ravel and tug
whether free or debugged
only mind over matter
unscrambles the lather
too see that is free
is like blind sight at sea
with the waves of conforming
to drown is informing
if not then be peace !
for all parties deceased
by a water so deep you could drown in your sleep
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
I miss you but
you need to do better.
Sometimes at night I
think of you. I think of
the good times we had.
I think of the
hot sun on
our sweaty
Bodies. I think of the
bagels we shared. I think of the long
heartfelt talks and I miss you. Usually
I don’t think of who you became. I don’t
think of the mean things you said behind
my back. I don’t think of the times you made
me feel worthless. I don’t think of the betrayal.
I don’t think of the person you have become. It's
funny how I only remember the good things when I
get nostalgic. How I remember the parties.
How I forget your immaturity.
How I remember the dreams we
Had. How I forget your artificial
Nature. At one time you were
Beautiful. At one time we were
happy together. At one time you were
the most important person in my life,
And even though you would never
share it with me,
I know I was the same to you.
Then you threw it all
Away. When I gave you
The chance,
gave us the chance,
to have it all back
You threw it away. I
can’t keep chasing you.
I can’t keep expecting
you to change.
The truth is
that I’m repulsed
by who you have become.
I’m disgusted by your weakness.
I wish I could say that I’m doing great without you,
But I’m not. And you’re not doing great without me.
I did everything I could. You have to try harder.
You Need To Do Better.
Jul 5, 2021
Jul 5, 2021 at 9:23 PM UTC
These demons in my head
Are no less real than the
Pills in my hand
Laced in glossy white
And pink
A heavy dose of
Dreams
What's the diagnosis
Besides my obvious
Inability to sleep?
Maybe I am allergic
To these bright lights
Strung around the world
In little clusters
Maybe I am repulsed
By the faint smell of
Pine diffusing off
Her clothes
Maybe I am appalled
At the thought of
Sugar plums twirling
In my ****** up head
While I try to rest
On the stone cold floor
I have a case of hate
A disease completely
Impossible to escape
Jolly is not a word
To me
Anymore
December, December
The way you make my
Pale lips shiver
In the frosty air
The way you make
The green grass crunch
Under my cut up
Feet
I think I may have
Loved you once
Many moons ago
Back when that
Fat guy with the beard
Was real
But now things are
Different
You make my nose
Glow red
And my skin
Dry up in flakes
And I swear,
Miss December
You are ruining
Every second of
Every day
Because it's so much easier
To place the blame
On someone who isn't
Exactly real
Now, back to the pills
Down they go
Along with my words
Along with the poem
Goodnight,
Miss December
I pray to wake in
January's light.
Dec 13, 2010
Dec 13, 2010 at 1:58 PM UTC
I have to run faster now,
I have to leave this town,
Change my name,
Change my face,
**** my identity and leave no trace,
The monster you made is creeping in the dark,
Yearning for the taste of a beating heart,
The bitter scent of soiled blood,
Alcohol and cigarettes,
Another fish caught in the net.
This kid is far from a ***** hot mess,
When he's unable to hide the stress,
To hold down tears that smell like Jack,
Barely able to keep himself back,
From the edge of his so called sanity,
Fractured by the pressure of male vanity.
This MANnequin is just a boy,
18 years and feels destroyed,
Metal pecs and washboard abs,
A dream of his while he covers the 'flab',
Betrayed by friends who style their hair
While he keeps on running so they don't stare
At the failure of physical attraction,
Repulsed by the existence of his own reflection,
Another flaw on a social scale,
A grizzly end to this unwanted tale.
Sep 4, 2013
Sep 4, 2013 at 6:18 PM UTC
A growing sickness
Flowing through my veins
Burning away inside, eating me away
As the darkness takes over from within.
Lapses in sanity, I find myself lying
In cold sweat, falling through the chasm
And I know its only a matter of time
Before the demon inside has arisen.
A manic bloodlust takes over my being
I ache for the violence to be set free.
In their dead eyes, I see reflections of mine
A murderous gleam shining within
As my face stretches into a smile that isn’t mine.
Every fibre of my being, repulsed by myself
Petrified by the beast I have become
I cry out in pain and anguish
As I feel Him taking over again.
Under the light of the gibbous moon
I revel in my madness, as her
Screams goad me on and take me
To the precipice. I stand grinning at
Her broken,bloody form in the earth
As she whimpers a pathetic plea for mercy.
No one knows of my disease; He only
Claims my body for himself in the dark
Leaving me behind to feel the horror and disgust
In the cold, grey sunlight.
Every night I struggle inside
I fight against my inner devil, pleading
For reason and humanity to return
To the twisted ******* I have become.
He stretches my face into a wide smirk
Reminding me of that exquisite, repulsive
Scent of flowing gore; He coaxes me,
He cajoles, He beckons me to join Him
As my will weakens and my body surrenders.
And so ends my tale, I have lost myself
To the contorted insanity I bred inside.
Horrified, repulsed, revolted with my being
My death only entices me now
Promising relief from my unholy illness.
But I know that small comfort is lost on me
Eventually, He’ll possess me entirely
And in the remorse of this truth I lie
And I feel Him return inside, eagerly awaiting my demise
No more can I hold out against Him.
No more can I wear the mask of Jekyll.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 10:53 PM UTC
This pain is festering
Like a deer carcass on the highway
Bloated, belly full of
Maggots and the smell
Of rotting flesh and gasoline
In the hot sun.
Bowels crushed against
Hard pavement coated in tar
Where once our proud stag's feet
Had walked with grace
Is now a grave, and heavy wheels
Speed over a body once
Full of life and love and blood
And drivers, repulsed,
Can't even spare a passing glance.
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Imperfections
The kindest evidence the savior passed was the marks he bestowed in the most gentile articulation in this
His wise choices matched imperfection to our needs. One of the most telling attributes of women can be
Her hands but what if they are slightly marred the grace only flows to a deeper level quickness is
Replaced by deliberate action slower more thoughtful and profound a touch placed with this kind of
Feeling goes to a measure instantly felt it is not just the ordinary but a thing of force that unravels
Trouble mysteriously it finds the hidden knots looses them allows love to flow wide and full. Perhaps a
Man no longer strides with a power that has an assurance maybe he is depended on a stick for support
Where power is diffused it only changes channels it makes the heart stronger the eyes feel it too
Humanity in others is recessed the blunder the self efficiency drains from boisterous streams into calm
Assessment a flow that harnesses possibility not vain bravado that can at times wound those who are
Weaker and that are struggling. If times try men’s souls then imperfection can be a clarion call the
Placement of virtue at the lead where sometimes pride is the driving force this writing came from seeing
A woman walking in a sunny scene and she had a blotchy spot on her arm others could observe this and
Be to one degree or another repulsed but to the man who loves her it is a special calling card it
Touches makes the forces revel in a display that sets her apart from all others an instrument of sound
That separates from the den isolates carries a marker that generates tenderness, esteem, and honor
Thou art the tune and sound of a masterful violin play nothing else in my presence nothing else will do
Your imperfections makes another whole don’t ever fret over your special make up it is the breath and
The visitation of the divine in the human form boldly brushed in the shadow perfected by sun light.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 2:16 PM UTC
Dear feminism,
You're doing it wrong.
Showcasing your gender
in physical form
does not open awareness
of a woman's
mental
and
emotional
wealth.
It merely confirms
misogynist thoughts.
If you want
to make a point,
don't generalize your targets
as pigs.
Rather,
express what makes women valuable.
Men can be deeper
than your delusions
let you know.
----------
Dear homosexual male community,
I am repulsed
that people can
associate me
with you.
Emotion
or thought
or open-mindedness
or expressiveness
should not denote
****** orientation.
I love women to the point
that I am overly chivalrous;
why should me
being in touch
with my emotions
or being different
than the
'male status quo'
change my sexuality?
P.S. - Homophobia is fear of homosexuals,
not,
as you'd havepeople believe,
the dislike or refusal
to treat the act as natural.
P.P.S. - The way
you portray yourselves,
you are still straight,
you only prefer your
women
to have a ***** attached.
----------
Dear fellow men,
A lot of you are
perverted.
You focus on
superficial things;
the *****
the rear,
the hair color,
the eyes,
the shape...
For what purpose?
It is the mind
and the personality
that matter most.
It is because of you
that women have
painted our gender
as monsters,
pigs,
rapists.
And many of you are,
because,
in your minds,
can the women give any consent?
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC
Risen sensibility when it came to living life
Wiry tendencies to fall before a savior appears in the split second of your head coinciding with the concrete to catch you
You live too fast, you cannot die
A case of immortality floating through the blue and black veins pumping blood to your weary heart
Turbulent tremors beat the pallor right out of your personality
Trying to turn back time and see who's fault lies within the deficiencies of your relationship
Could it have been the haughty reactions to every novel he wept at?
Though inside he was deeply troubled by death and it's casualties in his life?
Could it have been the musk that owned his scent, one you used to crave but now repulsed?
Pine needles spiked within your perfume drove him off the cliff
And mood-congruent memory proves it's theories
You are gravely broken inside your chest
All you feel is anger for the boy that clipped the wings off of the butterflies that carried you
And replaced them with ****** tears sewn together with cheating and dishonesty
Irritable noises clamor inside your ears
Reverberating throughout your whole body
Shaking, like an earthquake, involuntary
Clangorous echoing of negativity is constant
Unshakable, ineffable, suffocating
Your disheartened recollections resonating with your adverse quality of letting go
Could it be, a silly girl like you fell for a manic depressive like him?
Or did the silly boy fall for the manic depressive girl?
Mood-congruent memory, flowing back in streams of discontent and remorse
Ambiguous reasonings and faulty evidence collide with your incoming tears
He was not, the problem
(You were)
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 12:24 AM UTC
fear them;
for their strength
for their intelligence
for their rationality
and their unwavering pursuit of the truth
fear them
because they know more than you
because, in their strength, they are stronger than you
just like how in their clear headed soberness
they scare you
with simple truths
because of your refusal to acknowledge them
simply put
fear them
because they are repulsed by you
and can figure out how to be rid of you
and will be rid of you
when your usefulness dries
Jan 18, 2021
Jan 18, 2021 at 2:14 AM UTC
Chapter I
I once was young minded,
vulnerable with wide tooth grins
and fluttering words,
binding soft skin with liquid
metals - like gallium,
clustering in my ribbed fingertips and
letting love level in my lips.
I turned old the day I watched
rough bodies portraying the new style
of
***
on a vhs tape, and he
gave me a shaking milkshake to
turn off my developing
voicebox.
I always wore this barbie nightgown
that had tears from the nights before,
but that's ancient dust that folks
flip past in encyclopedias.
as he knelt down to tie my veins
together in little bows,
I untied after each loop was set in
my bones.
his acidic fingers braced my eight
year old metal frame,
so I broke the nuts and bolts since
I wanted to see if he was
a part of the human race,
I wanted to see if he could bleed
iron-richness that kept myself breathing.
Chapter II
he was beautiful.
his philosophy branched in
segments and he tasted of
earthy tones, but sometimes
he couldn't smile easy and
I felt his love only in acts of passion.
The football game stuttered in
pure vertigo,
as if my body was still
positioned in missionary.
he held me in concern, his arms
laced as protection from myself.
as a survivor, his words felt like
whiplash or lagging from too much
flying in the high altitude.
I needed to forget, float, forgive
and begin the process over again.
I would never see the shades of love
from anyone other than from him,
his words used to brand me.
Chapter III
I drank too much.
I wished on meteorites,
lead-filled, hoping they wouldn't
fall on the tent.
my luck was never strong enough.
I felt as if a wildfire was singeing
my dysfunctional limbs.
I wanted him off. now.
and my tongue was made of
parchment paper. crisped.
I woke up ten after nine.
my body repulsed me,
throwing up the last of poisonous
alcohol I left stranded the
night before.
I devoted that I will never sleep in
a tent again.
Chapter IV
I am finally free.
I still have energy in these
old bones,
and I want to put them
to good use.
so I'll walk for centuries to
find truth and trust.
I use my voice to tell myself
I am more profound than the
surface film those insignificants swept
on my skin.
I found my voice again.
Mar 31, 2011
Mar 31, 2011 at 4:51 PM UTC
With the violent jerking,
And battering of my heart,
And my self-image,
I have deteriorated.
I don't want to look at myself for a second longer than it takes
To put on my face in the morning,
Because if I do,
I will begin to poke and **** at my own flesh,
Feeling as if I am going to upchuck every calorie I have consumed
In the 15 years, and 120 days of my life.
If I look at myself long enough,
I am repulsed,
And my day from that point on will be violently,
Disruptively disordered.
Everything I am forced to consume,
Because of the need to hide my disastrous disorder,
Will become disgusting, half-digested
*****
And rottingly,
I will feel pure,
And vile,
All at the same time.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 9:05 PM UTC
I once was a beautiful neutron star
Gleaming so bright, you could see from afar
But then my star collapsed & died
& an astrophysical object derived...
It shredded my light & vacuumed me in
Never to be seen or heard from again
But as my flames began to ensue
I discovered the entities undeniable truth!
It appeared that my light was being reflected from its core
Emitting a feeling I could not ignore
So, I relinquished my fears & spiraled down like a drain
(Realizing that space/time can never be changed)
Pass the first event horizon was the radius of no return
Where time stand still, lessons are sure to be learned
Because once I reached the tempestuous light
It repulsed me back with an inconvieble might!
My World may never be the same again
But the grandeur of our love was worth it in the end
& so it must be:
Angular momentum, nonzero; uncharged
Is by far the greatest result of a dying neutron star
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 10:41 AM UTC
I was angry when I saw her dancing.
She had no right.
Just last night she danced with me,
turning blues to pomegranates
and stepping on the seeds.
She walked through my corridors
(dim lights, bright-eyed)
painting the walls with broken expectations.
She whispered like a secret
she was now laying bare
at the tongues of anxious barbarians.
This morning her hips repulsed me,
churning smiles from grizzle
and burning coffee beans.
She had no right.
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 6:56 PM UTC
Drowning in old sorrow
Yet ignoring the extended hands
Utterly selfish to dare expose vulnerability
A deep rooted want to become a-
part of the bleak sky
But, truthfully known the earth-
would be a final resting place
Why does one chose the walkway-
that caresses a personal netherworld?
Each portion of forced effort falls short
Especially in the eyes of the inner perfectionist
My closest friend is a crippling emotion
It sends consistent reminders-
in my dreams-
of my broken
aspirations.
Nightmares are a lingering-
background in my head
Why must detest my own blood?
For it is brimming with the corruption of loathing.
The engraved disappointment-
I grew to be-
Is even repulsed
by the soul within.
*Plaster a grin
and keep it all in.*
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 5:25 AM UTC
uncomfortable in skin
repulsed by mirror images
fragmented, yellow face
white paste to hide the decay
slit the belly open
and watch everything
hang open
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC