"revile" poems
I am the Great Connector
I was born to unite The Horde
I am the Great Collector
Of souls felled by my Axensword
They all call me subhuman
And revile me as a beast
But they do the same to you and
For that they'll pay the price
(No Peace)
We are strong, We are brave
Though they wish to see us caged
We are wild and Untamed
And we will never live as slaves
Conquerors, We Are One!
Same blood in different skins
At last you'll see, when the victor is me
I am the Lord of our Kin
Wastelanders, Join the March
The World will burn as we sing
When the battle is won, I'll announce to everyone
"I am the Ogre King!"
I am the Great Divider
I was born to brew up storms
I am the Annihilator
My path was forged in war
My reign began in chaos
In Bloodshed, so it ends
All this Strife has nearly left me with
No Kingdom to Defend
(Descent)
We are Violent and Enraged
Now that we have been Betrayed
There are Consequences Grave
For Manipulated Faith
Revolution, it has come!
Same blood but different sins
The Empire Falls
And all Hear the Call
For A New Order to Begin
Decapitate the Tyrants
& Slaughter those who Resist
When the battle is won,
At the top of my lungs, I'll cry
"Long Live the Ogre King!"
I am the Great Destroyer
The Throne is mine to take
I will be king at any cost
Dead nations in my wake
I am the Great Conniver
With Sinister Designs
Never cared how much is Lost
So long as what is Left is Mine
(Arise)
We are rabid and insane
From lives of misery and pain
Now that the world's ablaze
We fall into our cages
These Horrors have just begun
Same gore from separate veins
What have we done,
To our daughters and sons?
A History Bloodstained!
We threw our lives into this war,
And lost more than we gave
When the killing is done,
I'll tell everyone,
"The Ogre King is slain!"
Now Our Planet is a Grave!
"The Ogre King is Slain,
Long Live the Ogre King,
I Am
The Ogre King!"
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 3:38 PM UTC
So fallen! so lost! the light withdrawn
Which once he wore!
The glory from his gray hairs gone
Forevermore!
Revile him not, the Tempter hath
A snare for all;
And pitying tears, not scorn and wrath,
Befit his fall!
Oh, dumb be passion's stormy rage,
When he who might
Have lighted up and led his age,
Falls back in night.
Scorn! would the angels laugh, to mark
A bright soul driven,
Fiend-goaded, down the endless dark,
From hope and heaven!
Let not the land once proud of him
Insult him now,
Nor brand with deeper shame his dim,
Dishonored brow.
But let its humbled sons, instead,
From sea to lake,
A long lament, as for the dead,
In sadness make.
Of all we loved and honored, naught
Save power remains;
A fallen angel's pride of thought,
Still strong in chains.
All else is gone; from those great eyes
The soul has fled:
When faith is lost, when honor dies,
The man is dead!
Then, pay the reverence of old days
To his dead fame;
Walk backward, with averted gaze,
And hide the shame!
5.4k
Men my brothers who after us live,
have your hearts against us not hardened.
For—if of poor us you take pity,
God of you sooner will show mercy.
You see us here, attached.
As for the flesh we too well have fed,
long since it's been devoured or has rotted.
And we the bones are becoming ash and dust.
Of our pain let nobody laugh,
but pray God
would us all absolve.
If you my brothers I call, do not
scoff at us in disdain, though killed
we were by justice. Yet þþ you know
all men are not of good sound sense.
Plead our behalf since we are dead naked
with the Son of Mary the ******
that His grace be not for us dried up
preserving us from hell's fulminations.
We're dead after all. Let no soul revile us,
but pray God
would us all absolve.
Rain has washed us, laundered us,
and the sun has dried us black.
Worse—ravens plucked our eyes hollow
and picked our beards and brows.
Never ever have we sat down, but
this way, and that way, at the wind's
good pleasure ceaselessly we swing 'n swivel,
more nibbled at than sewing thimbles.
Therefore, think not of joining our guild,
but pray God
would us all absolve.
Prince Jesus, who over all has lordship,
care that hell not gain of us dominion.
With it we have no business, fast or loose.
People, here be no mocking,
but pray God
would us all absolve.
5.4k
Recently, in the "New York Times,"
An op-ed essay has hit the press,
Thus causing the president
To send out vicious tweets in distress.
Claiming to be a senior White House
Official, the writer wants to let
The people know that even though
Trump is unhinged, not to fret.
Because Trump is ill-informed,
Impulsive, and given to constant lying,
He can't be trusted to handle the job,
Which to many is terrifying.
He's impetuous, adversarial,
Reckless, petty, and quick to revile.
Any good has happened DESPITE
And not BECAUSE of his leadership style.
The writer insists that our knowing
One special thing will lessen the gloom:
Even though Trump is a mess,
Luckily, there are "adults in the room."
Thwarting the president's misguided
Impulses is the task
Of these "adults," each of whom
Has to hide behind a mask.
To publish the piece anonymously
Some people feel is wrong.
But, hey, it only confirms something
That we have known all along.
-by Bob B (9-6-18)
Sep 6, 2018
Sep 6, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
Just how does warm weather conjure
the inebriated
&
lovers,
on to
Londons’ Tube?
Are sweaty nights
an aphrodisiac tune,
to an alcoholic groove?
Wavering
tight stepped shuffles,
paired with
googly-eyed,
hand-clasped,
lip-locked,
snuggles.
Inward thought
toothpicking the corners of mouths,
as cheerful eyes spy
the Underground antics of the South.
That off the shoulder dress,
stranger clothes,
newer shoes;
a fashionista bazar,
A fleeting memory is
Winters’ white metaled fire.
Hapless in this weather
what else to do but smile?
Is it not so much easier than to revile?
Warm weather has a mission…
dismiss disgust.
Go on London smile.
It’s a must.
© Qwey.ku
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:57 AM UTC
Another scar to bear
And another pain inside.
Nothing for you to see,
It's hidden behind my eyes,
But I do hurt, and myself I revile,
After these long months of living as a friend.
Victory, Victory, Victoria
So this is what's become of us.
Another scar,
Something my words did not intend,
Neither of us safe from their path.
We both played our part precise,
We, the engineers of our own demise.
You, with waiting to play your cards,
Unfortunately you played it too close, you played too far.
How long is a guy supposed to wait
Before he wises up,
Before he realizes he will not catch the bait?
You tell a guy just want to be friends, twice,
And you know what, he thinks he gets the point.
You built your walls up too high
To try and prevent a painful ending,
And instead we never got to start.
Victory, Victory, Victoria
So this is what's become of us.
Another scar,
Something my words did not intend,
With neither of us safe from their path.
We both played our parts precise,
We, the engineers of our own demise.
It seems as if I paint it all your fault
But we both played our parts.
I waited patient and tried to be
The best friend and what I thought you needed,
And when you mentioned your friend
Thought I was an "interest"ing guy,
I walked into it with my head held high
And both eyes staring open wide,
Refusing to let myself see
What you really did mean.
Victory, in honesty, I could only wait so long, hating to be alone,
And Victory, in honesty, I never thought I'd be singing this song,
Victoria, as things wound and rewrapped themselves
So quickly after I picked out a new course.
And to you again, how long do you
Expect a guy to sit tight and wait?
It's a lonely life to watch a girl live life
Until she finds she is ready to date.
And as for the poems you quoted at me,
Only one was written about the new "she".
If only you'd taken the time to see what
The upload date would surely tell you,
A different story on who the subject
Of that second poem was,
Of who I wrote that other poem for -
Or maybe you prefer now not to know
So neither of us has more reason to hurt
Beyond the fact that
I never showed you that poem.
So Victory, Victory, Victoria
This is what's to become of us.
Yet another scar to bear,
Something from my words I never did intend,
With neither of us safe from their path.
We, the players, acting our parts precise,
We, the engineers, the designers of our own demise.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
Little raven
In your nest
Scorned at
Laughed at
Little raven
In your nest
They don't see
You're beauty
All they see
Is a squawking scavenger
With sharp talons
And disgusting eyes
Little raven
In your nest
Don't leave
Let me love you
Your plumage
Is beautiful
And shining
To me
Your voice brings me
Joy
And memories
Of homes long gone
Little raven
In your nest
They may revile you
But I love you
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 9:08 AM UTC
For stale appearance I don't give a fig
since I won't see my friend for quite some while
but wit and humour always are in style
and I have grown to like this sort of gig.
Put on some hair, the deal is not so big
as you imagine. I do not revile
the belly laugh, nor yet the honest smile
since I am me beneath the longest wig.
In prose or verse the sentiment is true
that we're the grace that we have got to lend
to each occasion where the good may meet
to speak a while and give good peace its due
in wintertime. Still all fine things must end
and happy moments pass with foot too fleet.
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 2:52 PM UTC
As by the fix’d decrees of Heaven,
’Tis vain to hope that Joy can last;
The dearest boon that Life has given,
To me is—visions of the past.
For these this toy of blushing hue
I prize with zeal before unknown,
It tells me of a Friend I knew,
Who loved me for myself alone.
It tells me what how few can say
Though all the social tie commend;
Recorded in my heart ’twill lay,
It tells me mine was once a Friend.
Through many a weary day gone by,
With time the gift is dearer grown;
And still I view in Memory’s eye
That teardrop sparkle through my own.
And heartless Age perhaps will smile,
Or wonder whence those feelings sprung;
Yet let not sterner souls revile,
For Both were open, Both were young.
And Youth is sure the only time,
When Pleasure blends no base alloy;
When Life is blest without a crime,
And Innocence resides with Joy.
Let those reprove my feeble Soul,
Who laugh to scorn Affection’s name;
While these impose a harsh controul,
All will forgive who feel the same.
Then still I wear my simple toy,
With pious care from wreck I’ll save it;
And this will form a dear employ
For dear I was to him who gave it.
2k
Fond woman, which wouldst have thy husband die,
And yet complain’st of his great jealousy;
If swol’n with poison, he lay in his last bed,
His body with a sere-bark covered,
Drawing his breath, as thick and short, as can
The nimblest crocheting musician,
Ready with loathsome vomiting to spew
His soul out of one hell, into a new,
Made deaf with his poor kindred’s howling cries,
Begging with few feigned tears, great legacies,
Thou wouldst not weep, but jolly and frolic be,
As a slave, which tomorrow should be free;
Yet weep’st thou, when thou seest him hungerly
Swallow his own death, hearts-bane jealousy.
O give him many thanks, he’s courteous,
That in suspecting kindly warneth us
Wee must not, as we used, flout openly,
In scoffing riddles, his deformity;
Nor at his board together being sat,
With words, nor touch, scarce looks adulterate;
Nor when he swol’n, and pampered with great fare
Sits down, and snorts, caged in his basket chair,
Must we usurp his own bed any more,
Nor kiss and play in his house, as before.
Now I see many dangers; for that is
His realm, his castle, and his diocese.
But if, as envious men, which would revile
Their Prince, or coin his gold, themselves exile
Into another country, and do it there,
We play in another house, what should we fear?
There we will scorn his houshold policies,
His seely plots, and pensionary spies,
As the inhabitants of Thames’ right side
Do London’s Mayor; or Germans, the Pope’s pride.
1.7k
I know I am expected to behave the best.
But sorry! I am not like the rest!
I am expected to look pretty
Since I wake up.
But sorry! I don't all the time wanna hide behind make-up.
I don't mind breaking a nail
While playing like a guy,
Rather getting a pedicure.
I don't mind walking in sneakers than heels high!
I don't mind when they don't like the real me.
But I mind faking it
Just to become a sugar lump.
I mind if you randomly judge me,
For I ain't perfect.
I don't mind using revile and abusive words
For someone who perfectly deserves it!
But I mind backbiting and hurting someone just for jest!
I don't mind getting a silly scar,
While playing cricket.
But I mind if you randomly judge me
For I ain't perfect.
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 3:52 AM UTC
You don't have to live in fear
Or be a germaphobe
To be on guard when a pandemic
Spreads around the globe.
Erring on the side of caution
Makes a lot of sense.
The benefits of wise and prudent
Behavior are immense.
So, don’t put your mask away;
Put it to excellent use.
You don’t like the way it feels?
That’s a poor excuse.
If you're asked to wear a mask,
Don't raise holy hell.
Wearing a mask could save your life
And other lives as well.
For certain inexplicable reasons
Some people are loath
To do something that might prevent
The exponential growth
Of COVID-19, a nasty virus
That hasn't left the scene.
It would be nice not to have to
Self-quarantine.
So, don’t put your mask away;
Put it to excellent use.
You don’t like the way it feels?
That’s a poor excuse.
If you're asked to wear a mask,
Don't raise holy hell.
Wearing a mask could save your life
And other lives as well.
Someday we can look forward to
Not having to wear
A mask that covers our nose and mouth
And seems to cut off our air.
For now, let's all cooperate,
And please do not revile
A practice, which--though not so fun--
Is certainly worth our while.
So, don’t put your mask away;
Put it to excellent use.
You don’t like the way it feels?
That’s a poor excuse.
If you're asked to wear a mask,
Don't raise holy hell.
Wearing a mask could save your life
And other lives as well.
-by Bob B (6-11-20)
Jun 11, 2020
Jun 11, 2020 at 10:07 AM UTC
Imagine Complete Annihilation
Imagine it
First drain the colour from the world
Pour metaphorical bleach on the landscape
The lively green of the foliage
Is now a lethargic grey
The placid blue of the sky an angry black
Each cloud remains unpainted
Next expend the energy
***** its skin with this hypothetical needle
And induce a coma
Watch monochrome bees roll over in bed, unwilling to go to work
Vultures lying down with their dinner; corpse pillows
Sloth is the new God
Then purge the life
Draw your figurative razor across its jugular
Don’t worry, it’s humane: the victim’s already sleeping
And when yours is the only soul still tied down
Burn the pile of non-rotting flesh
(even the saprophytes are gone; death doesn’t revile anymore),
Gnash your teeth and throw yourself atop it
You’re almost done, now expunge your senses
Deaden the sound: halt the airflow through this graveyard
But remember that there is no silence
Dampen the light: pinprick each pixel till it pops
But remember that there is no dark
Cry “Begone!” to the wind and feel no more
But remember that there is no numbness
Cut out your tongue and relax
But remember that there are no memories
Finally call last orders on Time
Find each clock, smash it, don’t worry about the glass
There is no pain anymore
There is finally nothing
Imagine
Now accomplish this horrendous task
In the space & time-frame of a single breath
Learn
That what you godless fools call death
We of faith, however little, call hell
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 3:56 PM UTC
Race-baiting covers for agit-prop agents
splitting white hairs in their dark distress;
with name-calling, bullying, lunch money payments
and shifting the blame for their people’s mess.
Reparations are due for your boring screed
that you scrawled at the helm of the Black Star Liner.
You owe it to those who were forced to read
your obtuse agitations (you Afro-whiner).
Poisonous shout-outs to fallen comrades:
holy Saint Michael in reaper’s hood—
endless blathering racial tirades
poor comrade—your dreams are misunderstood.
You’re obsessed with injustice. That’s nothing new.
You’re a David anointed to overthrow Saul—
(as long as he’s white and less rabid than you,
oh prophet and scribe of the activist call…)
Stay mad at the system. Revile all your foes
with raving, with preaching, with bitter bad words.
Insult all your enemies; list all your woes
as you document stink on your turds.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 6:04 AM UTC
I don't know whether I should revile them
or revel in them.
Tucked/ perfect frame/
eyes that make me sick,
if only for lack of love.
empty but for lust/ it's a shame/
to think what love might have wrought
for these shapely circadian tallow hues.
Plastic is bought again.
Jul 3, 2011
Jul 3, 2011 at 9:46 PM UTC
Dear,
During our distressful dispersal,
Due to dismal dismissal on my defense,
Your dreary demeanour is decidedly
Distressful.
Earnestly,
I evince my emotions, expressing every
Effort to ebulliate my everything,
But ephemeral expulsion excommunicates me
Exceptionally.
Apathetic,
You arrive, always akin to antipathy,
Although any alacrity you attempt
Assiduously alleviates my alerting
Affliction.
Reconsider
This rejection, revile in my respect,
Rescinding no recompense for this respelendance.
Rejuvenate while I receive the rigour and
Reward,
Dear
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 9:56 PM UTC
He is a farmer of these lands
You can tell from his calloused hands
He's worked many a plow
See the sweat on his brow
He spends his day out there in the field
Waiting to see what the earth will revile
Every day he gets up early to toil
He's happiest out in the soil
He loves the smell of fresh turned earth
Deep in his soul he knows of its worth
With a happy heart he'll sow his seeds
He knows all the people it feeds
So with a smile he'll go thru the day
Listening to what the wind has to say
He puts in all his hard labor
And prays God shows him favor
Feb 29, 2016
Feb 29, 2016 at 11:15 AM UTC
love ties its hopes to what it thinks a rock
the furthest outlier of a merry isle
where there's no foe except the hateful clock
your modesty inclines you to take stock
in all those things that we would not revile
love ties its hopes to what it thinks a rock
impervious to any mortal shock
we hope to land and stay for quite a while
where there's no foe except the hateful clock
our ship is not for any normal dock
we've gone way past the ordinary style
love ties its hopes to what it thinks a rock
rejects enclosure will break every lock
and has more power still than any bile
where there's no foe except the hateful clock
though you despise and though you still may mock
our sacred purpose you cannot defile
love ties its hopes to what it thinks a rock
where there's no foe except the hateful clock
Feb 24, 2010
Feb 24, 2010 at 3:48 AM UTC
I walk the street,or travel in a bus,
When I talk or I move,or even restrict myself to my groove
You stare me down with that glare of yours
You make me fall with that scowl of yours
I am your daughter,I am your wife,I am your mother
Every woman who goes through the plight
But worry not,O hungry men!
I rise..
And will keep rising
Stare me however much
I still will rise
You revile me,beat me and bring me to dust
You reprimand me with your words and the way you make me work
I am your wife,your servant or the page boy who runs for every errand
I am the beggar who clings to you for alms
I am the street dog injured by your harms
But worry not,O unthinking human heart!
I rise..
And will keep rising
Higher than the skies
I still will rise
Chained and fettered,by your iron shackles
You pull at my wrist with a freedom you burgled
And with bullets that on me you showered
You scorn me with your hatred
You trod me as if I'm dust
I am a slave,I am a Jew
I am a fat man and I am black too
But worry not still,O discriminating fool!
I rise..
And will keep rising
To infinity and to forever
I still will rise
And rise will I
Above your rebuking glares
Brighter than the lights
Till my halo makes you blind..
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 10:52 AM UTC
My poetry *****
I've zero *****
To give my art
My empty heart
Devoid of feel
Has no appeal
Toward the sheep
Who watch me weep
A worthless sound
A spring unwound
Potential spent
Becoming bent
Approaching death
Jehovah saith
He shall be ******
The preacher groaned
In deep denial
We must revile
All things defiled
And we deny
That one divine
These horrors binds
Into our lives
As such we try
In faith to live
As we forgive
Ourselves alone
As He atoned
For us, but you
He would not do
Predestination
An invitation
You can't take
Unless you fake
The way we do
And say it's true
What's in our book
Just take a look
And soon you'll see
Reality
Belongs to me
--I mean to Him
His power's within
My mortal flesh
And who would guess
That it was me
Was meant to be
A chosen one
A pointed gun
At those He hates
His wrath abates
When fire is cold
And time gets old
As was foretold
By prophets bold
Great men of old
Religion sold
The people told
Their word of gold
But on inspection
Their intention
Is control
To be the sole
Proprietors
And keep the people quieter
Jan 26, 2022
Jan 26, 2022 at 11:10 PM UTC
i don't know how to express this poetically
so i'm just going to say it straight up,
i am completely and entirely stuck.
drawn in by the allure of the meaningless beauty,
the simplicity and the dead-end,
i don't know how to get out of the circle,
find the real truth or how to transcend
above the endless ******* hurled my way
to distract me from what really matters
i want to know about the real world's existence,
not the riches, but all of the tatters
ignored by a society completely apathetic
to all that these numbers need
just because they don't fit your aesthetic,
because your eyes they cannot please
it doesn't matter what i say now
i am but merely a child
i don't think you'll listen to what i say,
whether i praise you,
or your views i revile
i want to know what i can do to change,
this all seems too trapped in tradition
of leaving behind you a wake of lifeless bodies,
as you were so ignorant in your blind ambition.
i know you're not there to do what you should,
you only came for the power
you only came to be paid a lot more,
and to live high up in your tower
away from all of the 'scum'
you pretend to represent,
but whom you secretly chide,
you're only there to fuel a growing ego,
your heart will explode from your pride.
if i was religious, although i am not,
i know that God would scorn you for your greed,
and however forgiving your God may be,
i am sure that your ears would bleed
upon learning He thinks you were a terrible person
not what you were cracked up to be
and soon enough the bleeding would worsen
until there was nothing left to leave
I don't know much,
but i do know this:
i will strive to never be like you
for all the bad you have brought to this world
far outweighs any good you could do
so, someone out there, please teach me how
how to make a change in this life
for although i may have it easier than others
my heart will never relax while such strife
continues in the world
ignored by the masses
all but a couple times of the year
and i will fight for your rights
your right to survive
until my own end is near.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 6:20 PM UTC
If you want to walk,
Run.
If you want to swim,
Dive.
If you want to breath,
Gasp.
If you like,
Love.
If you hate,
Revile.
If you want to leave,
Walk out the door.
If you want to,
Do.
This life is full of chances,
and unless you grab them by the collar,
you gain nothing.
Focus on the possible, not the impossible.
Take a life lesson from physics,
even the improbable,
have a possibilty.
Do not allow yourself to be stifled,
London said, “The function of man is to live, not exist”.
Everything gives an opportunity to learn,
so take it all in.
Look for the moments,
cherish them when they arrive,
and cling to them with such ferocity,
you are worried you left grooves in the stone.
Hopefully, you did.
Leave your mark,
others will leave theirs.
No one ever succeeded without first trying.
So don’t say no,
or accept no,
because it and its followers,
aren’t worth your time.
Unlike the pickers in the orchards,
forsaking the twisted apples,
take every opportunity given to you.
You will be one of the privileged few,
to know the sweetness of the twisted apples.
Do not become complacent,
and do not seek sedation,
lest you be tranquilized,
into a grand mediocre existence.
We don’t have much time,
Why waste a single fleeting moment of it?
When you become contented,
Run away.
Get as far away as you can,
And embrace the discomfort.
Life is now,
not then,
not later,
but now.
Live it.
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 9:48 PM UTC
I saw you.
In a room full of people,
Yet sitting by yourself.
Head to fist,
And black kissed your lips.
I saw you.
With your headphones In,
Drowning out the world around you
Won't you just let us in?
I saw you.
Wearing a veil of black,
with your paper white skin,
and death-ridden cheeks.
I saw you
and your hesitant smile.
With eyes that laid dormant,
From all the revile
I saw you today.
When you thought no one was looking,
and im yelling for you,
Shouting I'm here.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
“ Blessed are ye, when men shall revile you, and persecute you, and shall say all manner of evil against you falsely, for my sake. Rejoice, and be exceeding glad: for great is your reward in heaven: for so persecuted they the prophets which were before you.”
Scorned, derided object of the culture’s rumor mill,
Laughed at, mocked, and ridiculed and all because you still
Held to One Who holds to you with scarred and nail-pierced hand.
One Who prophesied this persecution for your stand.
Yes, you knew that, as His servant, such would be the case,
For your Master, long before you, suffered like disgrace,
And the prophets faced the same mistreatment in their day--
When the world shot messengers for what they came to say.
So it’s not surprising it should happen now to you,
That the world would find anathema what you hold true--
And that it would crucify all those who bear His name
Celebrate, rejoice, be glad! When it treats you the same.
Apr 30, 2017
Apr 30, 2017 at 7:22 PM UTC