"slighting" poems
Darkness engulfs the morning
Letting the sun rest for a simple moment
Slighting the thought of commitment
On the edge of the earth
The arctic circle spins madly in love
Tilting the earth drunk
Just enough to admit she is shy
That attention never came easy
Going unnoticed
Tucked under the drab sky
Dec 2, 2014
Dec 2, 2014 at 12:26 PM UTC
My auspicious and audacious assault augments the annoyance of aged accomplices.
My bodacious broadside of boffolas berates and buffaloes bros beneficently.
A classy crusade Clownishly chiseling and criticizing childishness.
A devilish ********** of dillydallying dullards; devoutly denying dimwits the dulcet dream of defiance.
Excessive, exuberant edification, ebulliently eliminating education-evictees.
A fair-weather frolic in flippancy with furious fools floundering in flawed foppishness.
Gregariously grating glum guys gleefully, growing grander garnishes of gripping gallantry gaily.
Heckling hooligans highlights my heavenly humor.
Irreverently irking irritable, iniquitous idiots in inestimably infuriating and incredible instances.
A jolly, jocular **** joking with jerks.
A kreiger kicking kleptomaniacs in the karyotype. (Cut me some slack, this is 'k', after all.)
A ludicrous, laughing lambaste of lollygagging lunatics, loftily loosing luscious lunacy on lucky losers.
A magnificent masterpiece of malfeasance, a monstrous, malevolent mission of massive misfortune for the minor minors missing no malicious missive.
A noxious, narcissistic niggling of nitwits, niftily nixing the noisome naivete of niggardly nobs.
An offhand, off-color outburst of outlandish observations to outclass the obnoxious overtures of obsequious offal.
A pragmatic prediction of possible platitudes or platypi, a placid parley of pyrotechnic pleasantries provoking Pyrrhic protections by prurient prats.
A quixotic quibble quarreling with a queer quarry.
Ribald ribbing, ruining the robust reality of the repreachful, repugnant, and rapacious with risque ridiculousness.
A silly, slighting slander of sluglike slavishness, succinctly sinking sloppy simpletons sourly.
Tracing the titillating talent of towing tyranny to towering terrors to tactless, togless, terrapins of the times.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 11:25 PM UTC
Why Damon, why, why, why so pressing?
The Heart you beg's not worth possessing:
Each Look, each Word, each Smile's affected,
And inward Charms are quite neglected:
Then scorn her, scorn her, foolish Swain,
And sigh no more, no more in vain.
Beauty's worthless, fading, flying;
Who would for Trifles think of dying?
Who for a Face, a Shape, wou'd languish,
And tell the Brooks, and Groves his Anguish,
Till she, till she thinks fit to prize him,
And all, and all beside despise him?
Fix, fix your Thoughts on what's inviting,
On what will never bear the slighting:
Wit and Virtue claim your Duty,
They're much more worth that Gold and Beauty:
To them, to them, your Heart resign,
And you'll no more, no more repine.
3.9k
Would but indulgent Fortune send
To me a kind, and faithful Friend,
One who to Virtue's Laws is true,
And does her nicest Rules pursue;
One Pious, Lib'ral, Just and Brave,
And to his Passions not a Slave;
Who full of Honour, void of Pride,
Will freely praise, and freely chide;
But not indulge the smallest Fault,
Nor entertain one slighting Thought:
Who still the same will ever prove,
Will still instruct ans still will love:
In whom I safely may confide,
And with him all my Cares divide:
Who has a large capacious Mind,
Join'd with a Knowledge unconfin'd:
A Reason bright, a Judgement true,
A Wit both quick, and solid too:
Who can of all things talk with Ease,
And whose Converse will ever please:
Who charm'd with Wit, and inward Graces,
Despises Fools with tempting Faces;
And still a beauteous Mind does prize
Above the most enchanting Eyes:
I would not envy Queens their State,
Nor once desire a happier Fate.
3.6k
Anxiety reverberates through my body. My chest becomes so heavy that it feels as if a cinderblock has been lied down on it. All of my body's involuntary functions pause to listen to the demons that live in the back of my head. The demons announce to my anatomy that I have no worth, no value. The demons mock my lungs, "Why work so hard to keep her breathing when nobody on earth wants her alive." My body receives the criticisms and obeys the demon's demands. My lungs quit. I cannot breath. My mouth quits. I cannot speak, the only sounds escaping are soft screams. My ears quit. I hear nothing, besides the demons. My stomach quits. It tries to commit suicide by consuming itself causing me to curl into a ball in severe agony. My eyes try to fight off the negativity. They push the negativity out through tears, but it isn't enough. They look myself over in the mirror, trying to find some value. My eyes explore my entire body, searching desperately for something beautiful, something worth fighting for. They find nothing, but disappointment. My hands fight too. They find a blade and slide it across my wrist, a demon escapes me through the tear in my skin. My body feels a slight relief, but soon a different demon rekindles my self disgust. I let the blade dance across my body, over and over again, feeling slight relief each time. Eventually my entire body is bleeding and I am still only slighting relieved of my pain. My eyes work with my hands on the search to find a place to help the demons to escape. There is no place on my body left, that I could use to release my demons. My crying has stopped and enough demons have left my system to breath comfortably. I put the blade away, and slip into bed, my entire body aching. The physical pain is much easier to handle than the physical and emotional torture the demons would have caused. I lay in bed, trying to be as still as possible to avoid agitating my wounds. I cry to myself silently, because I know I'm going to have to rip myself open again tomorrow night. I feel numb enough to eventually to fall into a slumber. Will I spend the rest of my life rereleasing the same demons over and over again, just to feel unsatisfied and numb? Are my demons right? Is my life worthless? Especially considering I'm at my best either when I'm unconscious or when I'm numb? I am so tired of being numb. Agonizing numbness.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
Shadow and play
Peripheral vision is slighting
The tease is messy
But the fall is neat
Give me your thirst
Encased in fragile bones
Spilling over with tension
features which mock
the feather lust
of poise and nerve
Aug 7, 2014
Aug 7, 2014 at 7:42 PM UTC
I've got yelling, dancing, and partying gremlins inside of me next to you
They and you are good friends who flew the same coop in the same town called "Brown"
And you travel
Forever
Among the stars and the same stars' starlit bars
(Lit additionally by cars' glowing (picture-perfect) flowing headlights - growing ever-closer until all you see is the bright-side of the brightest white slighting the night's slightest, however plentiful they may be, "maybe" sins)
While yelling, dancing, and partying inside of me
Next to them
Feb 16, 2014
Feb 16, 2014 at 6:11 PM UTC
The sun-setting solitude slowly turning a velvety night
a fine goddess now descending concealing all her might.
a temptress teaching, a mother loving, a judge always right
granting us a freedom from a million corners more to fight.
The dark angel calm shining her blinding beams so bright
searchingly merciful creating still deep inky shadows of light
numb blissfully for those conquered heroes false who slighting
off the straight narrow path of the fair,just and right alight.
Generous is she, the queen majestic enduring all the pain stoic,
our pleasures and folly wise,even joys twisted and distorted vain!
sods poor,fiends rich, the carnal drags and compassionate hearts,
killers cold, sly cons,soaked winos, glitzy stars, gamblers and tarts,
children of a kind all in her ***** mix,playing perfectly their parts
trusting a goddess neither blessing nor reproaching dead impassive
allowing us all a discretion total she is our grand,real mother massive!
I am a son blessed rare,watching neon bathed the nightly circus affected
judging never,comfortably learning with My Nocturnal Angel protected!
Dec 4, 2012
Dec 4, 2012 at 5:44 AM UTC
Your cruel words are cursory
Mean less than null to me
Don’t need a PhD
Learnt more in nursery
Sweet song of ‘helping me’
No more than sophistry
Pick out the forgery
Lies with no artistry
Flowing in, eyeless grin
Sugary medicine
Gaslighting, infighting
Snarl under strobe-lighting
Saccharine blathering
Indolent flattering
Backhanded compliments
Heard without inner sense
I reject totally
Self-slighting sorcery
Callous affrontery
Bankrupting bursary
I have observed more
Preserved more
Have learned more
Deserve more
Have value
Don't argue
Can trust me
I must be
Enough being
just, me
So hear me,
my dear me,
coz now we agree
I am worthy
Nov 3, 2024
Nov 3, 2024 at 5:01 AM UTC
Boy meets girl.
Girl marries boy.
Baby comes nine months later
— blessed little killjoy.
Boy neglects girl.
Girl henpecks boy.
There'll be hell to pay
for slighting Helen of Troy.
Such an elegant fear,
this alliance, and yet,
when it's held in selfish hands
it merrily dissolves,
turning as tedious
and drab as Shakespeare.
Boy annoys girl.
Girl leaves boy.
It takes a special kind of madness
in building to simply then destroy.
Turn the other cheek
and Judas will kiss that one too,
reduce the bairn's fever
by visiting daddy's igloo.
Weekends are pay toilets
and happy meals,
frustration is a word all too real.
When did antipathy begin to rule?
About the time diplomacy was forced
into playing the fool.
The good times no one catalogues,
this life has gone straight to the dogs.
The Iditarod Trail extends
from Seward to Nome.
Run the race and make believe
the kids are tucked in safe at home.
According to Dorothy
there's no place like it.
Jun 23, 2023
Jun 23, 2023 at 6:50 AM UTC
seeing
sealing
sewing
seeming
setting
seeding
seeking
seeping
selling
steeling
sleeting
slipping
slitting
slighting
soaping
soothing
spotting
speeding
sweeping
swapping
swimming
swearing
swelling
sleeping
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:06 PM UTC
It didn’t really happen. I was awkward,
a sloppy crocheting of clumsy hands.
I was scared of my body; or maybe,
I was scared of her body. Foreign,
but bright from the veil of curtains
slighting a late spring light. I kissed
like a maniac, but when it came down
to the business of pleasure, I could not
make a transaction. She later told me
I could have gone on longer
than my half-a-minute slow grind before
I chickened out. Even now, after
my fifth major relationship and plenty
of romping and dancing atop mattresses
mine and not mine, I feel my first ****
is how I approach love. Tentative,
too contemplative, and none-so-bold.
Perhaps it is because I learned early,
to hate myself, this body that is still
so new to me: twenty-five years owned
and I still don’t know how to love myself.
I just hope that one day, I will be that light
streaming into the room, touching everything
around it, feeling with tender warmth
the goodness of what soon hinders its path
casting shadows behind what I come to kiss.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 9:08 AM UTC
Don't look a gift horse in the mouth,
No man ought to look up
But down on which he is given.
Heywood, ever hear of the Trojans?
Or is that thye pun
On the stupidity of the common person?
But, then nobility repeats it?
Hey, look at me!
I know my history!
I'm so educated that I know better!
That a coward correctly surmised
That a cat may look on a king
Is certainly no surprise.
The more haste, the less speed;
Rush-in over your head,
And regret you did not faster think.
Wedding is destiny,
And hanging likewise.
To be married to such ideals,
I would rather swing.
For when I gave you an inch,
You took an ell.
I gave you a slighting
And you reached for arms.
Now, you tell me;
Did I say these things?
One man's interpretation
Is another man's insulting.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 4:54 AM UTC
You whisk on by
leaving behind
me to rewind.
You're no one.
You exist
as a pacifist.
But instead of not fighting
you continue slighting
those in need,
you mislead.
I freeze in my car
is that reprieve from afar
but no
my limbs go numb
my ears go thrumb
you leave me to die
you are no friend of mine.
Dec 11, 2013
Dec 11, 2013 at 5:08 PM UTC
Look at me.
An invitation that demands.
A clenched fist paired with open hands.
Now what I ask of you is far more great
than casting gazes over faces.
No. I invite your soul to look in mine;
A true communion slighting wine.
I want to know your joy and pain,
feel tear drops fall like gentle rain.
I need to see your secret smiles,
take comfort in your cheers or trials.
These seconds, drawing out like years.
We live through all our darkest fears,
intricately, intimately, bound with breath.
Each heartbeat sounds the death of death
as I look into you, and you in me,
gaining strength from strength at what we see.
For eyes, they say, are mirrors to the soul,
and your eyes reflect my heart whole.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 5:11 AM UTC
We snapped memories into photobook
Watching the edges of songful hedges
Draw a hopeful singlet of grace of
Testimonies conquered in neglected verses.
We played from the check of honoured
Dimples crossing routes of perfections.
Here are tunes playing from the photoshop
Of our hearts designing graphics cards
Filled with affections &bubbles of love.
Portrait of tomorrow carved an amazing
hours in the street decorated with colours.
these are colours depicting greatness
freshness &braveness of the voiceful heart
Kitchened through the celestial laughter
Of a slighting mother to her joyfulness.
We are similar, singular and opposite,
We are plural of everything humanity,
Sweetness of every singing lyrics & verses.
Let's this fondleness remain captivating
boys. Sweet. Bitter. Acidic. Sour. Raw.
Reflection of the World Series of smiles
Printing names on carved pumpkins leafs
Boys carrying themselves in their shadows
Carrying themselves in memories of their
Parents' pastoral culture and languages.
Boys spinning into crispy treats of white
dreams written on the stream of the skies.
We are fascinated about the rare cloud
journeying towards the stars of our souls
Harbouring our names in a bag of colours
Imagination are doubtful unperturbed pictures
Painted in the innocent face of boys of tomorrow
After the sun bent the tremour of our rushes
The rain came like a troubadour warrior
Between veteran lips of boys who went &never
returned memories of their family portraits.
We are boys carrying our family's loss
We are boys carrying our Father's legacy
Bearing the pursuit of our fathers yesterday
Look into our eyes & see our imaginations
those imaginations created by our ancestral
ancestors for tomorrow to hold our peace.
We may not know that these sands are made
of ridges of boys like us who went carrying
Pictures of dreams that we could not retrieve.
©John Chizoba Vincent
From_A_Pen_Refusing_Frustration
Apr 8, 2018
Apr 8, 2018 at 1:44 PM UTC
The [safe life] is the most dangerous one to live.
Your invincibility is another way
To show your weakness
The cyber invitation you give
To share in your 'uniqueness'
Is denying the truth in your days-
Reality isn’t pressed through a sieve.
To be constantly engaged
In bright lights instead of
bright smiles
brings you closer to
n u m b n e s s
&
f u r t h e r
f r o m
feel
Because how can
anyone
truly gauge
A n yt h i ng real
when all they know
is how to conceal?
it’ll take a while….
but your soul is worth the save.
How does one possibly start
the terrifying journey to,
>>once again<<<
hear their heart?
To be alive when
things feel blue
is to welcome the feelings you
so fiercely dart.
When your body allows
what your mind is fighting,
though pain is at high tide
inner {wrongs} you are righting.
Perhaps your world will
seem less of a mess,
If you trade in slighting
for direct address.
A sad tributary leads to
an ocean of happiness~*
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
the girl wandered
and dreamt
and got lost in her head
only to let it float up to the clouds.
she read books
and wrote poetry
and found magic in the ordinary world.
she contemplated
and spent time with herself
and drowned out the noise around her.
she absolved the chaos within herself
only through slighting that which occurred without.
she wandered away
until she could no longer find her place in the world
but, in doing so,
had found her place inside herself.
Jul 14, 2020
Jul 14, 2020 at 4:24 PM UTC
Problems with pride
slighting the audience or crowd surrounding with your eyes only looking forward
to your dire black screen
where the feathers are strewn in a careless pattern
but the wings themselves are aligned to the mirrors at angles so keen they scream in impatience at the wait
letmeoutofthisbody for pride swallows me
I want to be adored I seek that and self-love, against loathing
letmeout
-cj
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
Buttercups,
yellow like honey,
become peculiar sweets
towards the sea
-line where I sit
slighting the grey.
Stars, bubble-topped,
in champagne rise
the firelight of this beaded day.
Blow the blue swallows,
loops of the air,
whose south and southern fragrance
sow the summer day down to the –
say of nowhere newly made somewhere.
Lift all the wheat
the harvester the combine
combining to bind
binding the bound the golden.
Slip all the day
down to the throat
the ear stray
for the sea terns’ splash
or the noise of the stoat.
Graft till the grip
is the tight of crowded lines,
and the seaward trip
whitely stars
as phosphorescence drips
pleasure-presents, those
lips on lips.
Mar 20, 2017
Mar 20, 2017 at 11:52 PM UTC
You smell like riptides upon a fathomless sea, elusive waves that never cross, beckoning me closer.
You smell of exotic beaches on travel catalogues; the ones unexplored, untouched, unique. The ones not treaded upon, inviting and innocent.
You smell like the lighthouses on deserted rocks, leading me home, guiding me safely to shore and to you, slighting the storms; unwavering, trustworthy.
You smell like the seaside of my childhood; familiar, nostalgic, the ones I can traverse with my eyes closed. Land I trust and know like the back of our hands entwined.
You smell like salt and the ocean
Love upon the unending sea
Scents of cinnamon, fire, setting suns
You smell like home to me.
Dec 25, 2018
Dec 25, 2018 at 9:52 AM UTC