"sickened" poems
Sully suffers from a stutter,
simple syllables will clutter,
stalling speeches up on beaches,
like a sunken sailboat rudder.
Sully strains to say his phrases,
sickened by the sounds he raises,
strings of thoughts come out in knots,
he solves his sentences like mazes.
At night, he writes his thoughts instead
and sighs as they steadily rush from his head.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Injustice!
Posted by Olivia Kent on June 4, 2013 at 3:11pm
View Blog
Suffer not thy children,
In a waiter service world of injustice,
Nothingness in a world of tragic poverty,
In a drizzle of tears,
The children drown
Emaciated children,
Not smiling as they die,
In world of war-craft,
Dying,
A little more each day,
Not smiling as they should,
Punished,
Living in a punitive world of cruelty,
Where craft of war is rife,
Screams,
Imagined in heads of strangers,
Insanity,
Piercing with horror,
Ears sickened,
By violent imagery envisaged,
Emaciated child,
*** bellied,
Gaunt,
Virtually lifeless,
Dead before death,
Snatches,
Life blood vanished,
Without request!
There is no youthful exuberance on this face,
Overjoyed,
Delighted,
I don't live in this place!
Copywrite Livvi Kent 04/06/2013
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
It is awful to feel sickened by the thought of myself
So is sobbing in the bathtub while the water hits my body
And soon my tears blend in with the ***** water
It is awful to avoid mirrors and to always look down
To hid from who I would see if I did
It is awful to scream into my pillows every night
Hoping no one will hear the cries
Or staining my wrists with sharpie
To remind myself to stop eating
And to stop being me
Or living in my dreams of other peoples lives
Than facing the reality of mine
Self-hate is awful
But so am I
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 9:02 PM UTC
Sickly might,
cravens and craving demon drooling bite.
That fleshly flaunt of fool and privilege,
he burned to smoldering.
Lapped his blood from crowned jewel
and corroded golden spires.
The lost cadaver,
pride driven manicured demon of self
driven greed and godly hunger.
Such as fiendish that ******
the sulfured serpent,
tis a sickened beast in dread black suit,
raffled in silken red tie
it's but the psychopath's blood smeared human hide.
Crave the flesh,
tear and splatter the soul from within,
fiends of fantastically practiced to perfect parallel smiles.
They'll slip your soul from the bars of your throat,
reap every inch of the body's hold.
Steal friendships to lips,
lives to hips,
slurp the killing,
seize the blind weeping cold.
You've got nothing not to be swept and stole.
Soulless has a studded luster,
but the ****** socio bleeds liquid sins,
bears fangs plastic wrapped in blades,
human game is the psychopath's wet dream.
Aug 28, 2011
Aug 28, 2011 at 12:27 AM UTC
All year the flax-dam festered in the heart
Of the townland; green and heavy headed
Flax had rotted there, weighted down by huge sods.
Daily it sweltered in the punishing sun.
Bubbles gargled delicately, bluebottles
Wove a strong gauze of sound around the smell.
There were dragon-flies, spotted butterflies,
But best of all was the warm thick slobber
Of frogspawn that grew like clotted water
In the shade of the banks. Here, every spring
I would fill jampotfuls of the jellied
Specks to range on window-sills at home,
On shelves at school, and wait and watch until
The fattening dots burst into nimble-
Swimming tadpoles. Miss Walls would tell us how
The daddy frog was called a bullfrog
And how he croaked and how the mammy frog
Laid hundreds of little eggs and this was
Frogspawn. You could tell the weather by frogs too
For they were yellow in the sun and brown
In rain.
Then one hot day when fields were rank
With cowdung in the grass the angry frogs
Invaded the flax-dam; I ducked through hedges
To a coarse croaking that I had not heard
Before. The air was thick with a bass chorus.
Right down the dam gross-bellied frogs were cocked
On sods; their loose necks pulsed like sails. Some hopped:
The slap and plop were obscene threats. Some sat
Poised like mud grenades, their blunt heads farting.
I sickened, turned, and ran. The great slime kings
Were gathered there for vengeance and I knew
That if I dipped my hand the spawn would clutch it.
7.3k
the world sits on the wing of a dove
being swallowed whole by a fiery goddess
descended from heaven on a chariot of ivy
i am incarcerated by shaking flesh and itching cloth
the road before me is giant and knows no bounds
the graveyard is warm and wet with spirits and dew
and red clouds are born from fire in the dawn
there is an intelligent horse being ridden by a snarling insect
and this man has come to claim our souls
our sunset blood burns boils blisters until a million animals wounded
i'm still alive, transfigure me into a creator
choke up my nostrils with the scent of your ***
invade my lungs with the burn of your god
caress my toungue with the infinite promise
enter my brain from above, and regurgitate your anxiety on me
slimy worms devour a psychadelic tomato laughing
into transendency, an eyeless eel has dissappeared into a pocket
i speak from balconies, from terrible heights, from hastened windowsills
in a million desperate quarrelling cities
this is where i **** up illusion, i give up to despondency
i ring the great iron bell that resounds with corruption, with hatred, with hideous *** and admiration,
i scream and cavort on rooftops alone with a black & blue midnight
covered in electric lights and gunpowder tongues
here comes the disintegration of my mind
disgraced by the eye of the earth and spat into
a realm of salivating light
i am swimming through digested heartbreak and melancholy livers
sickened by madness and homemade bombs and ******
the rainclouds carry a truckload of babies' hearts
and it's raining eyes over the city now
the cry of the mind escapes from waving mouths in impotence
as millions of bacteria invade the brain
may these lines be answered by the bird of the sun
by the worm at my ear
by the sight of my skeleton
by the stench of ***** in the air
by the dead gong shivering through midnight
by the bleeding eye of abandoned dreams
by the prophets in proclamation
by the god of all my sorrows
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 9:55 PM UTC
My duck pond polluted with human filth,
Old grizzly pidgins flock to eat the disease,
It shows in their mottled grey and brown feathers,
My little duck sits on a rock and cleans.
Wondering...
Where oh where has my baby gone!
Sickened with sadness I can stand it no longer.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
Innocent girl,
afraid of the world.
They have no idea what goes on in your mind.
They can't see the cuts.
They can't hear your thoughts.
They can't see you're at war with yourself.
"You're too good."
"You'd never do wrong."
"You're so innocent."
They can't see you're dying.
They can't hearing your crying.
They can't hear you screaming for help.
Innocent girl,
when will you tell the world,
about the pain you feel.
They don't believe you could hurt,
They don't believe you could bleed,
They are sickened by your "perfection".
"You've never been depressed."
"You're mind is so clear."
"You've never known struggle."
Innocent girl,
when will you show the world,
the scars you have from losing your mind.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:13 AM UTC
Heartbeats fast
whispers and plans
a mother's heart conflicted
as she wrings her hands
through the courage,
streaming tears
she will let him go
despite her fears
Outside, canines barking harsh
men's cruel shouts
she must say her goodbyes
as the shots ring out
So many kisses
on his sweet, sleepy face
little man deep in slumber,
in angelic grace
yes, he cried for a minute
as the morphine kicked in
and she rocked him and rocked him
his little frame, so thin
Now as his father takes him
she crumples to the wall
"By the will of God may I see
him again" she whispers
for he is her all
Outside the freeze
puffs breath into clouds
the quiet imperative for
this next move:
Father gently slips son
into the rough-hewn jute,
No rotten potatoes today, no
this is far more important
No one will look for a tot
in a potato sack, he hopes
He looks around and slips
through the hole in the wire
These moments are critical
the need for speed is dire
A quick trip to the village
in the black cloak of night
looking over shoulder
Finally the house…it's just there,
the next meadow over
the secret knock is sounded
and the door opened in silence
warm arms greeting, helping
carry the goods inside
Will this be a respite
from all the endless violence?
Laid gingerly on the bed,
the sack is eased off gently
no potatoes inside
just a small sleeping boy
his parents only pride
Father strokes his hair,
Lays his palms on his head
to bless this bundle of sweetness
in his new environment
"I will come for you, my son"
tucks thin blanket around
and the deed is done
and now, in the cold lonely
smoldering air
of the burning dark
now in the kiss of hopeful protection
yes, now it's time to part
Back to his wife in the ghetto's
cold, sickened space
to try to convince her
to bust out of that twisted place
You are my warrior, you
and all the others
Your spirit beats on
in my
naked heart's
thunder
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC
You were the crisp fresh air I breathed in
Awakening my soul
Clean and bearing no weight
I effortlessly inhaled you
Taking you in
Embracing you and everything about you
Chilled by your presence
Sending goosebumps down my spine
You were the opening of my eyes
But at the same time
You were the foggy air I breathed in
Suppressing my soul
Foul with a hefty weight
Choking as i tried to force you out
Slowly extinguishing me
Avoiding you and everything about you
Sickened by your presence
Forcing me to stop breathing
You are the sludge coating my lungs
Making me want to never breathe again
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 12:30 PM UTC
I inject you into my arm
You run laps in my blood
Swimming for days in a lustful craze
Inside my brain you have your stay
Sleeping silently in the day
But at night come out to play
Invading my memories
Making it a thicket
Now you know everything that makes me wicked
Playing drums on my rib cage you sail to my heart
Leaving me aching, weary, and sickened
"Are you mine?" You whisper and beckon
"Forever and ever!" I answer
Unended
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 11:00 PM UTC
The night descended upon the day
Inhaling the goodness
Smothering
Murderous
Diseased and dark
.Mankind swallowed down the perverse evil and sickened
Desperate for the emotions once felt
No longer remembered
That will once more warm and quicken
Dead jaded hearts,
Rose from their bank's angry rivers
Now rocky dry brooks
The ocean overcame the land
Islands sank to sea beds below
The earth furious heaved and split
The coals of the sleeping volcano's were lit
Humanity shivered in moldy damp caves
Counting their once thought endless days
No longer gods of the earth
Of green rich ground
Or untouchable stars
The world was falling apart
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby Oct. 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC
the final curtain on one of the longest running
musicals ever, some people claim to have
seen it over one hundred times.
I saw it on the tv news, that final curtain:
flowers, cheers, tears, a thunderous
accolade.
I have not seen this particular musical
but I know if I had that I wouldn't have
been able to bear it, it would have
sickened me.
trust me on this, the world and its
peoples and its artful entertainment has
done very little for me, only to me.
still, let them enjoy one another, it will
keep them from my door
and for this, my own thunderous
accolade.
from The Olympia Review - 1994
4.5k
**You were a predator in disguise
And I was a lamb in your eyes
You're a threat to everyone
Because you can be anyone**
**You took interest on me
Like a prey ready for free
You use words so gentle
But deep inside it is brittle**
**You do some kind of trick
So instant in just a mouse click
Letting someone be deceived
Their trust, you thieved**
**I am sickened and disgusted
Of the scene you combusted
People like you should not be trusted
And I hope you will soon be busted**
5:03, 12-25-14©
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 4:06 AM UTC
My limbs pinned and flayed.
A curious crowd of men hover overhead,
Floating faces bobbing closely
Like great bearded balloons.
In a flash of white and sharply gleaming silver,
They swiftly strip my leather skin
And, upon prying the cage, are astounded to have found
Only a cavity in the place a heart should be.
Throughout my warren of vein sits the last true proof
That anything once flowed there—
A thickly pickled ichor to make sickened
Wives’ stomachs turn at their evening roast.
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 5:00 PM UTC
Downfall she claims
Dripping in disease
Her dress ripped
Trees dying
Holes cover the seams
Tattered
Sewage covered
Disgraced
Ugly
Taking her vitality
The mass living upon her soil
Population at a high
Charging her for corruption
Her hair cut
In shambles
Uneven proportioned
Greed is the man in lead
Unfairly held to shame
Her belly rumbles
Earthquakes
Crack her skin
Aching
Oozing her blood
Tsunamis wiping out existence
She violently
Throws tantrums
A twister destroying houses
Seeking attention
Under validated
Unnoticed for exotic jungle humanity
Innocence
Her music lifts
The mountain breeze
Sagebrush rustles
Birds whisper
Squirrels leaping
Her captivating body sings
Weak man made her break
Small art gone
Ice caps melting into the abyss
Taking scraps
Leftover bits
Her soul
Missing
Stipping her clothing
******* her gold
Her shirt selfishly torn
Naked she became
Her animals hungry
Oceans sickened
Our anguish
Is revenge
Knocked out
She's becoming manipulated belief
She's in debt to the population
Mother will reclaim
Her dynasty
We the people will be left
In emptiness
May 11, 2016
May 11, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
*Cheer up, my sweetest Sis
Even though we are miles away we are so near
The bonds of love that we give each other
Make us seem so near
Please, my dearest you are my inspiration
So please, I beg you not to cry
And if I could play the harp for you and make
It's songs all sunshine and joy dedicated to YOU I would!
I'm happy now, my sis for
My Dad has been thinking a lot of your Cello
And how it's songs sound so pretty
And I've been thinking of the same
We spoke about your Cello just last night
And how all Cellos sound so pretty
And about Harps and Bassos we spoke
We talked about Trumpets and all kinds of instruments
Spoke about their beauty
And I still wondered how your Cello would sound
But I know it would sound very pretty and sad
Because I've heard Cellos before but none played as beautifully as yours!
That I know! And all I've said about you is true, SWEETEST Sis
And I understand your passion for all animals and can't
Stand when they get hit on the road
I can't stand it either so I can relate
If I could walk with you through fields of flowers,
Walk with you by the sea, pick some hibiscus blooms,
And listen to your Cello songs I would do so
But I feel so sad. . . and I am sickened at what I've done
Just look! I've made my sweetest Sis sad!
Oh, my Sis if only I could dry your tears
So let this poem comfort you, my Love
Please, feel happy
And know this if I could play Harps,
Cellos, Trumpets, Flutes, Violins,
Celestas, Chimes, Bassos, and the rest
I would, to make you happy and smile
What can I do, sweet Sis to make you smile?
If I were to play the Piano would your tears turn to smiles?
If I were to make an Hibicus Crown to grace your head,
Would your tears turn to dew?
If I were to walk with you by the sea would your tears turn to laughter?
What can I do to make you happy, my dearest sweetest Sis?
If I were to take you to Fairyland would you be glad
Instead of sad?*
~Marian~
Mar 18, 2013
Mar 18, 2013 at 11:38 AM UTC
"When you encounter a mountain lion, be vocal; however, speak calmly and do not use high pitched tones or high pitch screams"--California Dept. of Fish and Wildlife
Be vocal, but avoid high pitched tones and screams
when a mountain lion appears on your path.
Remind yourself that it’s not a dream.
If the path goes down to a flooded stream,
and bodies float by--
stay calm; avoid high pitched tones and screams.
When you go to the store and there’s no milk or cream,
as the cows are sickened from a poisoned well,
remind yourself that it’s not a dream.
If the wildfire turns your hot tub to steam,
as you run down the street to your neighbor’s car
be vocal, but avoid high pitched tones and screams.
When the weather goes to another extreme,
and mudslides cover another town,
remind yourself that it’s not a dream.
When the fisherman catches no salmon nor bream,
and there’s no more coffee, nor chocolate ice cream,
be vocal, but avoid high pitched tones and screams.
Remind yourself that it’s not a dream.
Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 1:27 AM UTC
I am numb to the sickened interjection
of whom from which I've heard nothing but ****
...although
Existential light must first dim
if mental dilation is to take rightful place
Think Exist
Jan 29, 2013
Jan 29, 2013 at 8:20 PM UTC
How is possible to miss someone you never knew
Is knowing defined by how long they've been there or how much you've grown partial to
I fall in love with someone everywhere i go
Its the mental image of me being happy with someone i don't even know
Or just found out existed
The cycles of the seasons rewind to a brighter idea throughout my twisted reasons
I feel sickened to think about strangers this way
Solely off appearance they're able to give my hope a place for its head to lay
Its the feeling of making eye contact with someone extremely alluring when they walk by
When your heart sinks to the deepest depths where all your fears and flaws hide
To know you'd never have a chance to have them in your life
Cowardice has a death grip
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 3:35 AM UTC
You're a thumping aggressive *******
I fight you, I hate you
I love you, too
You're a beast with no care
You stomp on my life
You stomp on my soul
Like King Kong on a truck
Or Genghis Khan to a neck
You've only been here to win
A huge body of heavy hard muscle
Barreling down at me
A two-ton man, you are
You truly are. You truly are.
Heated & selfish
You're sickened by my weaknesses
A King of kings indeed.
I can't tell if you even hate me back
So I'll say goodbye now, to the man who ruled
Over my personal Iron Age;
Your eyes are empty animalian jewels
And
I'll be fooled
No more.
Aug 14, 2012
Aug 14, 2012 at 2:09 PM UTC
Redundancy.
I read my words
and I’m sickened,
that you had this
effect on me. I read
them and I’m fatigued
by the redundancy.
I have nothing to say
that hasn’t been said
in the same way
only reconstructed
to better play the illusion
of new ideas and
some sort of change.
There is always the basis
the substance of being
the substance being
my overactive feelings
and constant repression
of what makes me alive—
this feeds the depression
and I cry when I think
and I’m dead when I don’t
I’m lying when I speak
and lying when I don’t
I’m fighting every day
my feelings when I
have them, and finding
every day, I have more than
I can fathom, and I can’t
always put into words
how or why I feel things
so I tend to repeat
what comes naturally
and when I reread
I am exhausted by
my own redundancy.
Aug 18, 2014
Aug 18, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
cant take anymore
blood lust
sickened
to be part
all this
dominion
of man
What good
will overcome?
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC