"sickest" poems
I am destroying my body
With every purge I take
And the sickest thing is
I am perfectly fine with it.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
The fur upon it's shoulders, the maw upon it's head, the claws upon it's hands are surely to be dread.
Your darkest single nightmare. . .
and your sickest single thought . . .
cannot compare in truth to what man and beast has wrought.
Jun 16, 2014
Jun 16, 2014 at 4:42 AM UTC
Luna Tickle eats only pickles and ***** up all the brine
When her brother tells their mother she begins to whine:
“Yes I did it! And left no tidbit
Is that such a crime? My brother smells and raises hell
And leaves the loo full of slime.”
Now their mother dear began to fear her children were obstructions
Never listening, since their christening, and wished for their abduction
So she planned a slaughter and called her daughter
Outside to the woodshed, then chopped her neck in two
She put Luna’s head in her brother’s bed and said,
“Now, they’ll be no more Boo-Hoos”
Now you know of Luna and her tragic ending
But there’s more to this rhyme that’s pending
For the Tickle name is quite insane
And was never worth defending
But that’s just what her brother did
When Mrs. Tickle met Judge Knuckle
And almost flipped her lid
Screaming:
“I never liked that kid from the day she began to suckle!
Why she couldn’t be more like me, or her lovely sister Tess”
Twas all Mrs. Tickle could confess that day to Judge and jury
Until brother **** chimed-in and confessed his sin
And did so in such a fury, it was heard throughout and within
The entire state of Missouri:
“I am Richard Tickle and do confess I am not fickle
In fact I am quite pugnacious
If you do not see the circumstances like me
I’ll be forced to be disputatious”
Interjects Judge Knuckle:
“Boy, I’ll have you buckled this instance to electric chair
If you’re not scared I’ll be splitting hairs
In a place where the sun does not shine
So if you care, you’d best beware
Or your Gherkin will be in a brine”
Now Tess screamed out and her mother did shout
In perfect unison:
**** is my love and none the likes of any other hooligan”
At this there was a scuffle
Each dame was muffed and ruffled
They could not contain
All their angst and their pain
And it led to the ugliest tussle
For each thought ****
Was devoted to she
And apparently, this could not be
As we know of the trouble with Luna
So the jury was not out
Or even in doubt
Of these sinister makings and troubles
It was the sickest of affairs
Mass-producing glaring stares
From everyone within the court
Missouri Gazette’s headlines that day
Told of how they did slay
And burn the Tickle chalet
Leaving it in incestuous rubble
The lesson today to this horrific ballet
Is don’t live your life in a bubble
Nov 21, 2015
Nov 21, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
These memories burn in my heart;
As the song pulls me back into a different time,
Something inside me dies.
Because I don't handle change well;
Subtle or obvious,
It hurts any way.
Whether it be irrelevant,
Or the best moment of my life,
Comparing the past with now destroys my sanity.
Looking where I am today
I never would have guessed it 2 years ago,
And where I am tomorrow,
I can never know.
Seeing someone change is even worse;
Watching the innocence get ****** out of their minds.
Corruption is the sickest of demons,
Society being the host of such a parasite,
With death being the only bearer of freedom.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
... For you couldn't have inflicted the venom
If it weren't for this little snake you call tongue
All its twisted dreams and sickest intentions
Just one utter to send the deadly pang...
Nov 5, 2016
Nov 5, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
even teddy said i got the sickest tricks brah.
like my abilities source from some kinda legendary liquid
/ praise the lord /
monster energy should sponsor me.
a kickflip over the king’s *** hole
& a halfcab for the looky-loos.
i feel so tall when i climb that heap of asphalt trimmings
& see clear from the water tower to the bluffs.
gimme a good day, any day at the bluffs,
bottlerockets & girly birds.
her body brings a swarm of worms.
decomp,
said the f.b.i. men one by one with tweezers.
not quite the homecoming queen, still
wrapped in plastic.
look up.
see that great mess of wires, nest of powerlines and owl bones?
it crackles and croons its electro-spectral purr
all night and day.
new neck tat &
cody spends his paycheck on a crossbow.
we target practice on a bull skull.
wet cigarettes and turpentine-soaked socks for a good huff
in the dry of the roofline as it dumps.
there’s that little boy in a ghost mask again, tap-dancing
in puddles below the streetlamp,
& oversized shoes.
his grandmoms always be watchin’ from the window.
[whispers] she’s teaching him magic.
lucky unit 19: where our young dead damsel once dolled
herself up, you see
men and headlights would roll thru thrice nightly,
maybe more.
& i remember her punch red lips &
big whicker hat; while she weeded and watered her garden of begonias.
the sheriff’s deputy, hart? hicks? hogan? well he loved her a bunch.
stole her clothes in the middle of the night,
& sat beside the river sobbing into clumped fists
of bra and blouse.
i bought ******* from that guy once or twice.
harold? howard?
guess who showed his face today?
josiah, from unit 08.
since the incident with molly’s beagle, he’s been rarely seen.
took a bee line straight for the mailbox.
a package. a prize. a decoder ring/secret map sweepstakes
to be seen and deciphered.
Nov 5, 2015
Nov 5, 2015 at 1:44 AM UTC
Curtains, veils of virtual vice
So, gaze through the ****** intermix
of positional latency,
nano-notions lost in frantic phantasm,
requisites of an idle, unhealed mind.
Draw the virtual screen curtains open,
bring forth the lustful images to
feed the circuitous appetite, lurking
front-row-presence, at the keys.
Unknown, undertones
of desirability, poses in patient wait,
online implication of fallen ways,
predication of unveiling moments.
As any-time-porn pours its spill
of sickest gratification behind
the curtain tab selective viewing.
It is someone’s child the glides on rails
of drawn conclusions, through windows
where drapes of cyber mindlessness
hang on dank walls of seedy buildings.
The ***** grinder always plays the tune
to which monkeys happily dance,
in a world where Neanderthals hang out,
unperturbed with new technology.
May 22, 2012
May 22, 2012 at 9:44 AM UTC
With Body pretzled up, skins converged to form
branches of rivers, mouth slack and frozen to
a permanent scowl of delirium and manners-gone,
as many swears dripped from those dry, cracked lips.
One of my mothers – gumshoed from the alley’s way of family.
“Get gumption, girlie, because everybody is full of ****
I remember that lullaby, “A tiny turned-up nose, two lips just like a rose. She sits upon my knee, she means to the world to me.”
I spy the scar on my pinky finger from her cigarette.
Could the King be witness in the Room?
Were those buttons of hollow wood over her eyelids?
Wrung of cries – we didn’t see that coming,
though we heard the flies.
And Age’s stumbling rattle through the hallway.
Do you know who I am?
Do you remember me?
Should the window washer come another day?
This stubborn sovereignty over what is reality – the root beneath the porch, the fog on the windshield.
Loosen the grip on this natural plane,
Please --
Woman of my Childhood, harvester of my manners.
Stand until the grown-ups sit.
Look away and bow your neck.
This was called the boxing match between Industry verses Inferiority.
Not child through birth – no –
but life spawned by those
strung-high fists.
There’s finality in this phone-call.
I heard it happened an hour ago.
Treading grievances and grimaces, picking through a flowerbed only to stroke the weeds.
Lifting boxes of Lead from reality to the Bridge of Dreams.
Frankly, I stole the gumption from your knotted mouth and
still cannot cry.
In a splinter of reason – I cast out the fundamental jibes of sacred hope.
That promise held between dog and owner during business hours.
Except there can be no homecoming.
The sickest liquor on the alleyway fence.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 7:08 PM UTC
Mess with me
Your his story
lowered down
I'm the sickest around
Pound for pound
Imma triple crown
Puting these cats down
These haters frown
I break'em then I
strip'em down
Like scrap metal
I compound
My mind limitless bound
Spit faster than sound
My hommies don't play that
Don't mess with clowns
In their cap and gowns
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
I can see it now, I was in 4th grade and we were all saying the pledge of allegiance with our hands over our hearts. "One nation, under God, indivisible with liberty and justice for all." I always thought it was "invisible". One nation, under God, invisible. It suddenly turned our nation into a superhero with the sickest super power ever, invisibility. Our nation was leaping over buildings and fighting crime in the moonlight with a bad *** sidekick named God.
One nation, under God, invisible. That's what i have become to this sidekick, invisible. I subsequently have fallen victim to the rare oddity that is my brain and finally realized that God doesn't even know who i am. Suddenly, this nation was not jumping over tall buildings, it was blocking the sunlight and causing an eclipse.
One nation, under God, invisible. I am invisible in this darkness of the night. But i searched for the moon relentlessly, knowing that it was my only chance of finding my way out of here. And once i found it, i held it in my arms, cradled it like a sleeping baby and careful not to wake it up because once it awakens it must escape to the sky and will no longer be mine. But to no avail, the moon was awake and whispered to me, "Dear child, did you really think you could escape God?"
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
you consume my deepest,
darkest, sickest thoughts.
makes me wish i was dead,
an escape from my head.
migraines from overthinking,
memory loss from drinking,
bleeding knuckles from,
destroying walls.
destructive behavior,
because of a past lover,
a cold hearted mess,
one whom my attraction,
is growing quite intense.
her beauty is extraordinary,
why am i so hung up on,
someone who always hurt me,
not by accident, on purpose,
knocked me down so much,
on the hard pavement.
three years badly spent,
chasing a twisted girl,
who doesn't know,
how to control,
her mind or self,
instead liking to,
manipulate,
someone,
else.
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 5:50 PM UTC
My finger's on the trigger of the gun you gave to me
I look into your eyes and my heart to find some sympathy
Yet the deeper I look into you, the tighter my finger gets
Tears may be pouring from your eyes, but I feel no regret
For the pain you've inflicted on me is more than a gunshot
A slowly slicing, rusty knife that fed upon my heart
The tongue that you cut out with a single, haunting phrase
And the arsenic you poured in my ears that poisoned my brain
But here I am, looming over you, a mess of blood and sweat
Hoping to pick and **** at you so you, like I, can't forget
For you dipped me in acidic deceit that made me cold and numb
My body grotesque inside and out with the demon I've become
And the sickest joke is the gun I hold which you yourself gave to me
Telling me to protect myself while I was drugged on your ***
And this cold steel and my brand of justice is held by calm and patient hands
Firing rounds and into each limb so that you understand
That as the burning barrel of this gun meets your skin, I am in control
And I intend to make this world better by giving Hell your soul
And with this in mind and one bullet left, I give a wicked grin
As I put the barrel in your mouth, then pull the trigger once again....
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 1:26 PM UTC
As I sip succulent absinthe
from the mouth of a cyan sea,
I succumb to a seductive grin
and sell my soul to thee.
There it is, a dappled smirk,
on your sinful lips as well,
and now that you are willing,
we have a tangled tale to tell.
Come now my sweet euphoria.
Caress me in your kiss.
Send me a twisted alibi
and wrap me in utter bliss.
I am the tainted murmur,
I am the nimbus quick,
and as one, we are miasma,
to the sickest of the sick.
Your skin a sweet oasis,
my hands a greedy verve,
the sense of touch engulfs us,
and we muster up the nerve.
No couple more visurient,
none filled with more desire,
no passion burning brighter
than that which we perspire.
We slow from our nirvana,
and slumber into mist,
dreaming of how it all began
with one etherial kiss.
By: Kevin Kurt Nepomuceno
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 9:34 PM UTC
People see what they want to see, so in all reality- what does that have to do with me? If it was up to me, I'd be me. But instead, I play my part in society, so people don't riot me. Ended up hating myself; more than I hate me. So I change every thing that's real, so the fake will be just like me. Real recognize real; sounds simple to me. Just try explaining that to society. Whatever I lack in swag, they'll buy for me.
Too expensive for my taste; Hit Walmart and I'm Gucci, down to the socks. Rings and watch, filled with fake rocks; looking like I got crazy loot- see me, on the street. Somebody shoot - me; for my, jewelry - that's stupid. But don't blame me; I'm society.
I'm being trendy thing, in spite of me. Everything is really real, everything but me. Cover girl issues, making up for free. Hating myself, because society told me, what to think of me. Had all my freckles removed; woke up the next day. Society decided they were **** why didn't anyone text me.
Mirror on mirror on the wall, amazing grace, respond to call. Who is the sickest of them all? As I watch the hands fall, face forward, right off the wall. Million pieces, scattered wall-to-wall; Society reflected on every piece, as I collected them all.
Believe what you may, its your call. Or wait until Society drops the ball, and blames us all.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 4:59 PM UTC
All Blatant Critics Depicting Egotistic Fishing Gimmicks Hissing Ignorant Jipping Kissing Lying Missing ****** Obviously Picturing Realist Sickest Technician Utilizing Visions Witness Xenogenic Zeal
Adjectives Build Courage Determined Earning Faith Giving Hidden Illiterate Jilted Kindred Living Mission Nitwit Oblivion Picking Resentments Sickening Tension Ultimately Vigilance Xray in Zillion
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
I wonder what the world holds in store for me
The sky is the limit but who knows
Seems like the world has it in for me
Growing up, the world has produced a lot of enemies
I've been pushed to the limit
I wonder why
Its because I'm the nice guy
Who always tries to please
I wonder if someone would do the same for me
Going the distance to lend a helping hand
Giving good advice when no one else can
I wonder is there anyone true
Probably not
Because the way things are going
It's gonna be a dog eat dog world
Survival of the fittest
I wonder, will I make it?
Still, I'm undergoing training
I just wonder
Will the earth withstand bombardment
Shrapnel and fire
Murderous intentions
With some of the sickest desires
Is the end around the corner
I wonder
By using faith and prayer
Will it save us, I hope cause
We all took a dive into sin
I wonder, can we all be cleansed
I say that because some people are pure evil
Hatred has consumed them
I wonder
Where did peace go
I guess it fell up under war
It was stomped out by the people
Who is looking for a score
I wonder did it ever have a chance
All I can do is wonder
-V.v.V. Ds
Sep 5, 2014
Sep 5, 2014 at 12:04 AM UTC
the sickest part
about realizing you are in love with someone
is figuring out that
they don't have to love you back
we believe that
the person that we hold closest to us
should hold onto us just as tightly
sometimes they can't
because they are too busy
holding onto someone else
who isn't holding them back either
and the trend goes on forever.
so after all of this, here i am
sitting on the edge of another strangers bed
coughing up all the 'i love you's that were said to me
but never meant for me
i realize now that curses don't always unbreak
the past is tied to you
like cinder blocks around your ankles
and pressing hard against your chest
like the weight of his other woman
your true loves kiss
wont fix a **** thing
if the love isnt mutual
lately ive learned that
it is sometimes better when you get stuck
kissing your own wounds
and sometimes is always
i never believed that i was somebody
that someone else could love again
thank you for proving me right
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 12:12 AM UTC
passion is what burns in the back of your throat like breathing in cold air when you speak to the one you love
passion is the way someone's eyes light up from seeing another someone smile for the first time in weeks
passion is what makes you pick up a pen every single day to write about a Dead Sea and the way you are a lot like it
passion in the form of unspoken words
passion in the form of your body language
PASSION IN THE FORM OF ME SLAMING MY POETRY INTO YOUR BLOOD STREAM GIVING YOU THE WORST HIGH YOU'VE NEVER DREADED BUT WILL SOON
PASSION IN THE FORM OF MY WORDS WRITTEN ON THE OUTSIDE OF YOUR VEINS BUT EVERY LETTER ON YOUR INSIDES
PASSION IN THE SICKEST FORM OF ME WISHING YOU'D RIP YOURSELF APART JUST TO FINALLY READ THE WORDS OUT OF ALL 24 ****** BOOKS I ALWAYS WRITE IN"
but finally a passion in the form of me wanting to watch you bleed just for a second so you can see me be the one to stitch you up
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 10:28 PM UTC
I had a girl I loved
so much.
Sickest joy with
every touch.
The problem was
I couldn't please her.
She tried to run,
I had to seize her.
Now my doll
is in the freezer.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
there is black at the end of every miracle
and the base of every rainbow where the colors drip
and mix in the sickest sort of chorus.
color and rain and atmospheric moisture,
you kneeled under a rainbow and prayed;
water in your alveoli paint in your bronchi,
you inhaled all your art
to make yourself prettier on the inside -
{but that doesn't work when everything you paint
is uglier than anything else:
broken ***** girls
and rusted knives and rotten fruit -
how can you expect to be beautiful with a rotting apple
for a heart?
you're an abandoned orchard,
falling to seed when you once fed a nation,
dry earth dead trees rotten rotten fruit
remember your glory days and cry}
you were a blackbird but time plucked all your feathers
you were a blackbird but now, oh,
with all your yellow blood,
canary in a coal mine you knew it was too late.
you were the first to be tragic.
the first to choke on coaldust -
the road to el dorado is paved in coal
and all the gold is smudged in black from the men who sought riches
but brought with them misery.
canary in a coal mine you died in el dorado,
canary in a coal mine you died in a city
of your blood.
there is black at the end of every miracle and the beginning of every tragedy
but if all goes well it'll be all
blues and reds
by the end of the story.
drowned and bled,
primary colors for your finale.
you knew these colors would be your end, blue and red blue and red
and you sought out yellow,
canary in a coal mine, ***** el dorado,
yellow hope yellow fear
primary colors like building blocks,
carbon the base of the universe
blueredyellow the base of the paintings you inhaled,
blueredyellow and carbon coal.
you were a blackbird and blueredyellow in the reflections of your wings,
oily rainbows on your back
primary colors in your lungs,
and all your gaunt thoughts envelop you you never should have tried
to be beautiful -
a tragic hero can only do so much before falling apart
a tragedy can only go so far before it becomes comedy.
you inhaled all your paintings and they live in your lungs
live and rot and cry because you never painted happiness
{it's hard to paint something that doesn't exist,
it's hard to paint something you've never known -
abandoned orchard you rot beside the highway and cry.
tell yourself happiness doesn't exist,
cause that's better than knowing
it's there
but you're just
not
worthy}
blackbird canary-blood apple-heart
do you even know who you are anymore?
all the broken ***** girls in your lungs
and the crying boys in your mind -
you never knew who you were,
fragmented as you are -
all your masks are just
sick echoes of the parts of you that wouldn't burn,
all your paintings are just sick echoes of the parts of you
scattered over el dorado.
gather yourself up,
knit yourself back together -
make your nest in a flak suit and sleep dreaming of you.
the coal burns around you and you don't stop singing
you will not be the only tragedy in this mine.
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 3:20 PM UTC
done with the I miss you flu
the sickness of the sickest
done with take me back river of tears
white water rafting right out of this place
done with blood stained dager stares
going blind to every promise you made me
done with every part of you
consider me gone
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 10:14 PM UTC
Pulse echoing in the hollow canal of my ear,
A sweet, persuasive sound that initiates the craving,
I want to taste you in the sickest of ways,
Like itchy centipede legs discovering the back of your throat,
A discomfort only a thousand sips could quell,
I’d like to think I could resist,
I know better; I’m only realtime flesh,
Slowly rub your cheek against my chin,
I’ll dip my nose into your neck and use my tongue to caress each striation,
Until I can taste the carotid reaching toward the holy switchboard,
My jaws will not be denied, closing vehemently,
Penetrating the silky dermis, ragged vents meant to pourpourpour
Vital lifeblood and sustenance out into useful globs of passive alertness,
You are a beautiful, tormented creature in which I can bear to look at no longer.
I cannot see you as you are meant to be, I am deluded and biased..
Sent to realize truth, only to find no definitive,
I will relish bringing about your end as much as my own.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
I have no control,
I'm just a reflection of emotions deep below,
Feed me some antipsychotics,
Free me from my mind,
Bionic-
I got the sickest of Minds,
Come equipped with the quickest depictions that sicken your eyes,
Unassisted, don't be resistin' the fight,
Trip sixes leave you ******* to die,
Rap circles around you like a serpent constrictin your life,
Drag you through the mud and the muck before I kiss you goodbye like the crucifixion of Christ,
You don't know what's livin inside or what I put into these lines,
You might wanna diss me but it's almost forbidden to try,
**** on you ******* while I'm kissin the sky,
Diss all your writtens while you listen to mine,
A misfit, I'm twisted with an addiction to rhyme,
Watch you stiffen at the sight of me hissin at night,
Silence these voices I tried but my prescription ain't right,
My lungs are collapsin like somethins kickin my sides,
I'm not twitchin, I'm flinchin,
Pay attention, there's a difference,
Somethin wants to get in and take away my decisions,
Sometimes I wonder how the **** I got in this position,
I keep talkin to God even though he don't listen,
He's prob'ly ****** off from all the sins I've committed,
Unspeakable actions let the demons in, scratchin,
I keep pleadin and askin but believe I'm the baddest,
Can't seem to keep it, reactin, but receivin the static,
Creepin in the dreams of an addict that needs to be handed,
It's reachin in me and its makin me panic, I'm takin it back and,
Retracin my tracks and erasin the past and,
Replace you with ashes and take the flame back I'm,
Burnin alive while rehearsing these lines,
You can feel it churnin inside, the turnin through time,
You're cursin my life,
Feel like bursting inside-
Feed me some antipsychotics,
Free me from my mind,
Bionic,
Walkin a fine line,
But I called it,
"Its night time,"
Don't worry, I'm on it-
Mar 12, 2015
Mar 12, 2015 at 6:37 PM UTC
You seem a bit sad but mostly mad
, So I know it was always so.
Though I should say the disease is strong
And attracts the sickest to your soul.
But you like the weak minded girl.
I think it in the heart That you keep a shard
Just to hurt and bleed
So you can pretend to Breath...
But what is life without a heartbeat?
What is health when You are diseased?
Perhaps you don't care and maybe you did But no longer believe, A word I have to say.
Try living a different way...
Jan 7, 2013
Jan 7, 2013 at 2:55 AM UTC
The sickest happiness.
Sick because most don't know the feeling,
But an undoubtable bliss.
Comfortable while being comforted
Undetachable
Irreplaceable
The highest level of platonic
Those people, those are the ones worth keeping.
Not because they make you happy, but because together is when you are at your best.
friendship is the dosage of humility and sanity. An influence that doesn't change you, but helps you maintain you.
Aug 12, 2012
Aug 12, 2012 at 9:44 PM UTC