"rottenness" poems
DAGGERS IN HIS EYES
DAGGERS IN HIS EYES
Sun, 08/14/2016 - 02:58 -- Poetic Judy Emery
He given me a gleamed look
as if he had daggers in his eyes
But I wasn't surprised
because he is a malicious man
that come to me with so many lies:
His hate with rottenness in mind
that cast illness upon who cared
he would **** who's love was to bear
he would give them bad dreams
that will always make them scream ,
He will cast so much pains in their mind
that will make tears of streams that will
make a wild storm ;
He will make life so exhausted
and leave you broken hearten ,
He takes advantage of all that stands
he is bold and even getting very old
his old games are deadly ;
he cast daggers out among the sea
blowing down everything he see,
His old malicious ways;
are something you never want to see
while you sleep you will struggle to get away
you will feel breathless and very wounded
but relax it was only a darken dream .
Poetic Judy Emery ©2016
The Queen of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Nov 24, 2016
Nov 24, 2016 at 3:31 PM UTC
DAGGERS IN HIS EYES
He given me a gleamed look
as if he had daggers in his eyes
But I wasn't surprised
because he is a malicious man
that come to me with so many lies:
His hate with rottenness in mind
that cast illness upon who cared
he would **** who's love was to bear
he would give them bad dreams
that will always make them scream ,
He will cast so much pains in their mind
that will make tears of streams that will
make a wild storm ;
He will make life so exhausted
and leave you broken hearten ,
He takes advantage of all that stands
he is bold and even getting very old
his old games are deadly ;
he cast daggers out among the sea
blowing down everything he see,
His old malicious ways;
are something you never want to see
while you sleep you will struggle to get away
you will feel breathless and very wounded
but relax it was only a darken dream .
Poetic Judy Emery © 2016
The Queen of Darken Dreams Poetic Lilly Emery
Feb 23, 2017
Feb 23, 2017 at 3:02 PM UTC
Plagued by the troubles of my heart,
Forced expressions to play the part.
If only you knew the routes of my wounds.
The faces I have seen, the loves I had to release.
Curse-d ambition to persevere towards my dreams,
Though my closeted skeletons wept,
searching for their tendons of meaning.
For the places I fled to-to try and make home,
only invited the evil drowned in the vastness of my soul.
Leaving only the rottenness to soothe my bones,
and the incessant weepings to be my song-
"Never stop reaching for your 'dreams', even if everything cease."
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
when John saw the ***** of Babylon
she was wearing your face
sitting, legs spread, like a ***** on a bed
riding the beast, in a lewd warmongering chase.
with demonic glee you pounce on your prey
and dig your teeth deep.
one taste of blood, a frenzy, a flood
an **** on the soul that you seep.
your skirts in place to cover your legs
and the rottenness in-between
all your pretentious decisions, with cold incisions
you think your grave sins unseen.
pancake your makeup to cover your disease
but try as you might
to hide, it shows, for everyone in the world knows,
you just don't hold up in this light.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
I can’t see their anger.
I can’t taste their rottenness.
I can’t smell their stench.
I can’t hear their screams.
I can’t feel their stones.
I’ve grown cold of this world.
Shutting out all the lunacy
by looking into myself.
And I’m content, calm, ready.
They can’t scare me anymore.
I’ve sent my fears to the gallows.
Nov 17, 2018
Nov 17, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
Always the same, in every night
Words stuck in my brain
I feel meaningless
With grievingness
A silent retreat in this
Forgottenness
The rottenness
A knife to jab into my wrists
The pointlessness
That I exist
Maybe it's cuz I'm a pessimist
I can't resist
The Devil's list
Or the urge to sink in the abyss
Well if it's true, I'm so worthless
Why can't I be blue?
Do I deserve to be hurting?
Constant self re-working
Shadows lurking
Thoughts are jerking
Evil sits inside me, smirking
Eyes averting
Words alerting
Save me from this dark converting
Self asserting
Random blurting
Worse than the ****** flirting
With my corrupt, thoughts perverting
It's clear I'm ****** up
But crying’s
Not dying
No matter how hard I'm trying
Horrifying
Re-wiring
Because my brain cells are frying
Clarifying
Not lying
Whether or not I'm implying
Defying
Denying
Is all that I'm supplying
The only crime, is, you stand by me
You're wasting your time
Mind won't stop racing
Or re-making
The challenges that I'm facing
Just shaking
Earthquaking
My anxiety displaying
Not praying
Or weighing
Any mistakes that I'm making
Soul fading
Creating
The sinful way I'm behaving
So every night, as I'm laying
It's these thoughts that bite
I'm meaningless
Self-loathingness
Magnifying my uselessness
A joyless
Black abyss
Wild ***** hungry for coitus
Yes, mindless
Undesignedness
Nothing to fill the vacantness
I'm voiceless
And pointless
…
It's these thoughts that's destroyed us
May 25, 2017
May 25, 2017 at 4:25 PM UTC
The strange dilemma
of this day
makes me feel
really so sad.
It feels so
weird to be
touched by these
rottenness from the
heart of the
ones who suppose
to have goodness
in them.
Hardened and shut
down their hearts
and drove away
the Holy Spirit
that supposed to
dwell therein
I am so wired
right now
to really get
off my rocker.
Endurance and patience
eludes me
for my heart
is really broken.
How can all
this be happening
and everyone is
alright with it.
It is not right.
I am not
alright with it.
You have all
that is required
to do better.
Harness and stop
the beast immerging
from inside you.
You are not
a beast but
a divine being.
Is there no
bowel of mercy
within you.
Look at what
your irrational and
unrealistic unreasonable
behavior has cost us.
Change your acts
and attitude
for the glory
of God and the
benefit of mankind.
©2019,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Jan 27, 2019
Jan 27, 2019 at 3:57 PM UTC
To desire the golden path of life,
Is rather difficult when lost in a sea of despair
Exiled in a bleak hole,
Suffocating in only rage and regret
The heart screeches, begging to heal
Shunned, no longer able to cope,
with its inner turmoil
Feeble and confused, it is simple to brainwash-
obscurity creates darkness that creeps in.
Feeling nothing but the jabs of torment
The loneliness enjoys taunting me so.
Why do I let myself drown thousands of times?
Yet I still attempt to climb
Rottenness scrapes away the good, crushing my hope.
My heart falls to ashes and madness seeps in.
Intense failure decides to mock and cackle hideously-
because my soul was dragged away.
Sep 30, 2016
Sep 30, 2016 at 6:44 PM UTC
a truism, an overused, abused entrée to the first poem of the day,
they always are night-born, from a slow passage of dark to a light-triggering recording event, a 6 hr. poem period, gestation, incantation
and a sort of relief, temporary
*many the miles voyeured, a mentaller feasting sated,
simple rhymes to covet, rephrasing the complexities of
our other lives, where our sub-selfs exclaim, out loud!
this is me unchained, this is me chained, this is...someone*
*besotted by the rottenness of honesty, once air-exposed,
eyes fixed, no away-turntable, all that well hidden spoilage
in dreams reverent, forsaken, my ashamed-ness, is willing
taken to the scaffold, and by daylight first, perceived, conceived*
*we may examine the half of me, nay, the all of me, open-face
secrets secreted in my nighttime travelogue, of crimes, revelations,
insects, drownings, strawberry moons, all the fraying edges of a
linen covering, my cadaver pouch of well used words*
inscribed thus:
”human born from a sac, and to earth returned, in sackcloth
Jun 4, 2020
Jun 4, 2020 at 9:05 AM UTC
All I care is for this sudden smell if I dare to ever hold my breath...I cannot. To wallow from this state of means to come to me in dreams and amidst conscious strolls. Do I forbear or do I endure such a beautiful strain? This aroma, what bliss will have me ensconced by waters and corollary of celestial instance. Happy as I not alone so ever in this amazement of chance. The sun has touched me today in ways so true, caressed in spite of these garments that sheathe me. They will not take me alive...I only care for beauty. Care for wealth, for relevance, or power...care elsewhere for such rottenness of the soul is contagious. ‘Contage’ me not, if you wish so not to see the wrath of a gentle man, of a gentleman. This smell will stay I will come to it by morrow. Smell on if this rave meets you, endure the pleasure of such scents as it’s zephyr may touch the walls of mortal nares. Smell on...beauty is by.
Dec 12, 2017
Dec 12, 2017 at 4:12 PM UTC
Aren't you afraid of happiness?
At this glorious moments of youth escape won't be easy when our willing to win is gone, we hate what we'll become.
As our laughter evolves into madness and as our heart machines rise to sadness, we ignore our realistic surroundings, we light up the fire
as we admire the cadavers dancing. The town will flood in blood, it will unmask the rottenness of the animated corpse.
We'll be a beautiful and strange memory, monsters waking up ghosts from the doomed century, withered roses are her favorite, sweet and mad ****** reigns our team, we're rich in poverty. We abandoned the routine tale just for today, we cry of joy, happiness and bliss, yes, yes, we feel everything.
Smiling is hard when you know it won't last, Saturday nights and ************ race
what a blast. Be respectful as you jump over their graves, have mercy for the ones who rest, have sympathy for their miserable fate. We'll enjoy our liberty as well.
The Devil invocation brought us a loser angel, he doesn't know where he belongs, we welcomed him home, he didn't have the honor to meet the God, he's skeptic about the existence of his benevolence. Dear rejected angel, would you have the kindness to tell us, are we gonna gather an army or are we just gonna have a party?
So aren't you afraid of happiness?
Ugly interesting kid, putrid smell refreshing the air. We feel unstable to be the essence of rebellion, I don't know what's scarier us or them. Wildness and hormones at its best. What a rich environment of power and ridiculousness.
What is life now? What are we tonight? We don't know, we won't, we'll just be.
Hard laughs, my throat hurts, cheap axe to cut their bones, they found the elegance under this blood storm.The town became their ballroom, they weren't alive but they are living by the sentiment of this night.
The Morning turned us sad, the storm never painted a rainbow, the lost ghosts never found the beginning of the end, they'll be imprisoned with the forgotten chains, the skeletons never danced to the blues, we'll be forever ****** to be sane, our souls weren't never new.
We were the legends of youth...
Jan 5, 2020
Jan 5, 2020 at 11:09 PM UTC
Why on earth would you expect pretty words to sprout from my mouth when my insides are filled with rottenness?
What can possibly grow and flourish when all that is left to water with is tinged with saltiness?
You wanted.
You expected.
You hated this rare bloom that people stopped to admire
and so.....
With your heavy boots you trampled me into the soil and made me....
*****
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:58 PM UTC
Now is the time for the burning of the leaves.
They go to the fire; the nostril ****** with smoke
Wandering slowly into a weeping mist.
Brittle and blotched, ragged and rotten sheaves!
A flame seizes the smouldering ruin and bites
On stubborn stalks that crackle as they resist.
The last hollyhock's fallen tower is dust;
All the spices of June are a bitter reek,
All the extravagant riches spent and mean.
All burns! The reddest rose is a ghost;
Sparks whirl up, to expire in the mist: the wild
Fingers of fire are making corruption clean.
Now is the time for stripping the spirit bare,
Time for the burning of days ended and done,
Idle solace of things that have gone before:
Rootless hope and fruitless desire are there;
Let them go to the fire, with never a look behind.
The world that was ours is a world that is ours no more.
They will come again, the leaf and the flower, to arise
From squalor of rottenness into the old splendour,
And magical scents to a wondering memory bring;
The same glory, to shine upon different eyes.
Earth cares for her own ruins, naught for ours.
Nothing is certain, only the certain spring.
R L Binyon
Sep 20, 2019
Sep 20, 2019 at 4:52 AM UTC
Whence had it come,
That filthy breath of ***
Cast away this rottenness,
Eating away our wholesomeness.
Dec 26, 2015
Dec 26, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC