"smites" poems
In times gone by, now recondite,
Neanderthal, ***** upright,
spoke softly, tones so lily-white,
and tried to put the world aright.
He taught us how the flame ignites
that wearing furs will warm the nights,
just why the rolling wheel excites,
and how the beveled flint stone bites.
Before the days of dynamite
he fought his foes with spit and spite,
and swung big sticks with all his might,
and rendered death with stones in flight.
Engaged in never-ending fight
(arenas were a global sight)
he forced his forces to unite
to sate his oily appetite.
To quell rude thoughts that may incite
he ruled the realm with fly-by-nights
and culled the winds of words in flight,
and darkened minds to anthracite.
With fairy tales of evil sprites
and how the fist of freedom smites,
he washed the world with flames alight
to vanquish hoards of parasites.
Each dawn the damage brought delight,
the foe was bent, a bit contrite…
yet battled on with no respite
until the dusk and evening light.
Encamped beside the firelight
Neanderthal, that shiny Knight,
awaited morn while sitting tight
assured the end would be alright.
Yes, conquest seemed his sacred right…
Forevermore?… well, no, not quite…
Neanderthal's extinct tonight
and lies beside the Trilobite…
MORAL
The Oreo is round, not bright:
while rolling near the candlelight
at first the searing seemed so slight,
the molten cream an oversight…
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Body of shame.
It haunts in tatters.
All this grief smites all that matters,
'til there's no one left to blame.
It has the fading scars
of good ol' times
plastered
like flaking paint:
Tattoos of radiant beach sunsets;
forgotten "beneath" a shore
of its memories
like an ordinary pebble
under a mountain of stones.
Ethereal grasp
never touching a thing,
yet finding itself
touched
by desire.
Where goes the time?
Past yet to come.
It has broken scales that balance wine,
yet it's sober to passion's drum.
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 8:45 PM UTC
Girls married off
To a dogma they can't stop
Decided at birth
I would tell you it hurts
That it truly is terrible
But it gave me an outlet
Made rebellion bearable
I abhor to see they way
They block us make us stay
They're pretty little vessels
But now it's too fun, I have to wrestle
The rules and regulations
The trials and tribulations
They really aren't that terrible
Mess with the horns, you get the teeth
Because she's determined to become a female preist
Tell her that it's wrong
That she disobeys God
But she'll just tap the Old Testament
Won't let her resentment
Control her when she smites you
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:05 PM UTC
I've started a habit, I ignore the best of advice.
I see the gold but I can't reach out and grab it.
My chances lost, thrown away, life doesn't suffice anymore.
Just shouting at the god that has ****** me!!
**** it!! He strikes me, smites me, I can't fight back and he bites me.
Self belief burned and buried, self esteem shot down and slowly drowned.
The power I crave is unteachable, untouchable, unreachable and unbearable.
I have such foolish ambitions and desires.
Never to have greatness and my helpless soul is on fire.
Duck, drop and roll, send me to the poles to freeze, please!!
Reduced to begging, I'm a disgrace, you better take that ugly grin off your face.
I'll continue to flow It like a poet so that you feel my self loathing.
I turn on the TV and look at the news, It's not good apparently.
The whole world's becoming a zoo, It's so true.
And guess what! The sky's not even blue, It's red!!
No wait; thats just the pain in my head, pain from exaustion, or maybe just hunger.
Life's a mess.
I need to get this crippling weight off my chest, can you help me?
Force the world off my chest, then I'll carry it on my shoulders.
Gonna live like this until my fragmenting fragments are broken.
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 2:59 AM UTC
it *****
that ****
the **** that *****
that lives inside my head.
it gropes around
for things to smite
with ****
because it *****
the more I try
to smite the ****
the more the **** smites
my thoughts with ****
the **** that smites
my thoughts when I
try to smite the ****
that lives inside my head
***** like ****
that smites my thoughts
when I smite the ****
for smiting me.
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 7:20 PM UTC
Thunder roars its booming wrath,
lightning splits the darkling sky,
Ground trembles, mountains shake,
raging waves rise in fury, to dash to
pieces the trembling man, cowering
before the wrath, the raging storm,
Begs for mercy, cries in pain, lightning
smites his prostrate form, earth cracks
and swallows him, waves falling, rushing
in, Man is gone, destroyed in fire, and the earth
stills, the clouds depart, the waves recede to
ocean deep, this the fate of he who walked
the sacred ground, my only son.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 7:42 PM UTC
The one who loves the depressive mind
Commits to smites; the wary waltz he gaits
Arresting all pride he denies he's blind
Yet the poison nectar; cures and claims his fate
A fate that by his hands has hewed
A fate where he is the exclude
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 4:15 PM UTC
in the un-mechanical nature of
nature's fist crashing into
mankind's attempt to stand firm against
everything we can't control
there are vigils, and there are tears,
tears in the veil that is the idea
that we are rulers of this world,
that thin, ethereal fabric of existence
that we put over our eyes to give us comfort
makes us blind to the hurricaine.
pride tells us we can let
our faces weather the acid rain,
leaving us scarred in lieu of granduer
that is no delusion.
our mother smites for insolence.
we are students never meant to be teachers.
our baby steps
and teenage mind
are going to
get us
killed.
and father time will forget us
after we are washed into the sea
that we tried to claim as our own.
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 2:26 PM UTC
Beneath the fair blue face of Heaven, harp
In hand, a shepherd flats an A that's sharp.
He plucks and tunes and finds the perfect pitch
And plays a harmony exceeding rich.
The afternoon is hot, and all the sheep
Are full of grass and falling fast asleep.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
While drowsy songbirds neither sing nor fly.
Even the shiny fish in waters cool
Nap in the cooler shadows in the pool.
Save for the sound of rills that gently spill,
All things are silent. Everything is still.
So too a watchful lion keeping eyes
Upon a ewe lamb dozing where she lies.
As still as stone he stalks his sleepy prey:
He's waited patiently the livelong day.
And now the time has come to work his plan,
While most at ease is bird and beast and man.
He takes the first small steps in his approach,
Then breaks into a run and makes the poach.
Bewildered sheep in panic loudly bleat—
Asleep to wide awake in one heartbeat!
The shepherd's senses rush, and running down
The brute, he smites the beast upon his crown.
Dazed and confused, the lion drops the lamb
That lives but by the grace of Him, I AM.
The shepherd grabs the lion's beard, and, hair
In hand, he slays him (as he'll slay a bear.)
Returning safe the lamb unto the flock,
The shepherd goes and stands upon a rock.
He lifts his hands to God, and, singing psalms
Of praise, he gives the LORD his weather'd palms.
Cotton ball clouds go slowly floating by
As stars begin to twinkle in the sky.
Feb 17, 2023
Feb 17, 2023 at 1:08 PM UTC
Poets go blind from writing by moonlight,
But my artist smites the moon with her luminance,
I write by her subtle, cyan, rays
And would gladly go blind for, with her, my eyes find their fill quickly,
She is the unexpected wind bouncing off the water’s surface,
And my chest is the sail,
Lifted, pushed, expanded and fulfilled to its most righteous purpose,
If the world is a stage than she is the red velvet curtain,
Commanding a sway so slight and savory
That other rags rent and burn,
No matter how mesmerizing the performance is,
A sudden hush or vibrant ovation is demanded in her wake,
A sultry swirl of goddess and girl,
Too precious to be stored with other jewels,
Elegance with every hinting glance, every rowdy inhale,
And every placement of those sinister legs,
That rams would think twice to scale,
The bend in her back is the stroke of my oils,
The pout of her lips is scarlet meat to the lions,
And the feel of her hips sum up my surreptitious desires,
Like good jazz things seem to pull back
Before the cathartic crescendos,
But to put it bluntly dear, the next time you’re here,
It may pay to freshen up with a Mentos.
Jul 28, 2013
Jul 28, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
I can never linger
it isn't written in my genes or encoded in my blood
in fact I simmer like a deep-brewing fire
only the wind on my cheeks
& the scenery whizzing by can stifle my flames
whimsical indecisive fickle
no commas can contain me
I am this metaphor & that simile
I am those paradoxical adjectives & I don't create irony
I am the irony
free spirit & old soul I have been labeled both
whatever you like to call it I can never linger
a blessing or burden either way
the loveliest blooms always depart from the fields the fastest
you have never seen a fairy because they carry on & on
carry on so quickly
I am the soul of your lost father & I am the nostalgia of your dead mother
I am all things mystical & majestic
the weeping willow tree by the lake & the lightning that smites it
the strength you misplaced is found deep within me
wherever I go love will seek me out & find me
but I can never be contained & I can never linger
I only wish to "burn, burn, burn like roman candles across the night"
so please
do not ask me to stay
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 4:16 PM UTC
Beside an ebbing northern sea
While stars awaken one by one,
We walk together, I and he.
He woos me with an easy grace
That proves him only half sincere;
A light smile flickers on his face.
To him ********** is an art,
And as a flutist plays a flute,
So does he play upon his heart
A music varied to his whim.
He has no use for love of mine,
He would not have me answer him.
To hide my eyes within the night
I watch the changeful lighthouse gleam
Alternately with red and white.
My laughter smites upon my ears,
So one who cries and wakes from sleep
Knows not it is himself he hears.
What if my voice should let him know
The mocking words were all a sham,
And lips that laugh could tremble so?
What if I lost the power to lie,
And he should only hear his name
In one low, broken cry?
2k
673
The Love a Life can show Below
Is but a filament, I know,
Of that diviner thing
That faints upon the face of Noon—
And smites the Tinder in the Sun—
And hinders Gabriel’s Wing—
’Tis this—in Music—hints and sways—
And far abroad on Summer days—
Distils uncertain pain—
’Tis this enamors in the East—
And tints the Transit in the West
With harrowing Iodine—
’Tis this—invites—appalls—endows—
Flits—glimmers—proves—dissolves—
Returns—suggests—convicts—enchants—
Then—flings in Paradise—
1.7k
The screech-owl in the wasted tree,
Who blights the branch and smites the leaves,
She wails that she was once like you and me!
Hey Lamia, hey love of mine,
Whose banshee moaning boils the night,
I won’t listen, for I know that Lilith lies!
Oh, naked beasts, oh variegated lives!
Whose ribs You cracked,
Whose love You lacked,
For whom You cast two wives!
Oh, hungry man, that bites his keeper’s hand!
You mixed his tears,
Instilled his fears,
And taught him “Lilith lies.”
I fled before you were brought forth
And spread, you race of sons of ******
Oh children, you are mine, and I am yours!
Un-furred, un-feathered, and dull-toothed,
How the Almighty forsook you!
So sick and weak, you all can barely move!
Oh, teeth and bones, Oh heaven-wide applause!
Come Oneiroi,
Support ‘tcha boi,
The ape without no claws!
Oh, sticks and stones, oh desperation’s knives!
Come Seraphim,
Sing us a hymn,
Remind us Lilith lies!
“She lies, she lies,” you cry “she lies,”
But I have wings, and claws, and eyes
That pierce the dark, and to all schemes I’m wise!
Yes, I obtained these claws of gold
That keep me safe and fed and whole!
You can’t condemn what hasn’t got a soul!
Oh, life from mud, oh mare who bucked the stud!
Who sits on beds,
Perched at the heads
To drink the dreaming’s blood!
Oh, owl’s eyes, oh man’s dread realized!
Come talk at length,
And show your strength,
And show us how you lie!
Jan 30, 2020
Jan 30, 2020 at 3:06 PM UTC
Fighting dimensions that are not real
Virtual hatred virulent viral.
When man grows up
Something happens . . .
Some apathy kicks in.
*(Moon spits its half-light in greenish gobs and smites my ashen shame
No, dunno where to hide my life
Lame with wide-eyed horror)*
Telepheric jollity and catherine-wheel of fun
Like a mist . . .
*Equation of hope / /
M a n k i n d
=
Kind man* . . .
S T, Sat (in)Auspicious 17, 2013
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 6:06 PM UTC
Creative Writing
Manchester uni,
Fifteen places, but that's it,
**** **** **** **** ****
The Fridge
I open the door,
But nothing has changed, no food,
My tears flow freely.
Fluffy
Fluffy the hamster,
In sawdust he hides plans for,
World **********
Which is it
Some call my writing,
Insightful, to others it's,
Sociopathic.
2500 BC
I find peace in rain,
Ra, the Egyptian sun God,
Smites my insolence.
Look like Crab, Talk like People, Crab People, Crab People.
In the near future,
The crab people will rise up,
Crustacean war-fare.
Lunacy
Awake in my bed,
Pulled to open the window,
The moon calls for me
Lioness
Brave as a lion,
She does not show fear as she,
Devours her young.
97% Sure
Bodies in bin bags,
Powdered lime on window ledge,
Suspicious neighbour
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 8:06 PM UTC
Dear Diary,
As of today, I am officially a registered Republican
Now before you freak out, let me explain…
It’s finally happened!
I am in love! In love!
I can’t stop thinking about her…her rich auburn hair
Sensuous lips, smooth, silky voice…
She is an ambrosial goddess
Ahhhh just to say her name
Michelle…Michelle…
It’s because of her, I have become a Republican
Michelle has opened my eyes to so many things!
For instance, this country really was founded on Christian values!
Separation of church and state…that’s just crazy talk
Oh, and climate change? Forget about it!
But most importantly, Michelle helped me see that ALL lives matter
Michelle is very involved in her community
Why, just yesterday, we handed out boxes
Full of bootstraps to the poor
I gave my Birkenstocks
To Bernie Sanders…
Michelle says that nothing turns her on more than a man who wears crocs
And I am embarrassed to admit this….
I would only tell you, Diary
But She’s really into **** ***
Michelle says it’s not ****** if it’s a man and a woman
And with her husband’s gay conversion camps, she would know
Come to think of it,
Nothing is a sin for a Republican
As long as you don’t get caught
So, there you have it, I have abandoned my socialist and Jewish roots
Do I have regrets?
Well, maybe sometimes,
When Michelle talks about cutting veterans benefits
For a fleeting moment I recall how it felt
To take care of each other and to love people unconditionally
But then I think I sound like ******* flake
Twirling crystals and prisms or some stupid ****
I do like the idea of legalizing marijuana, though
But my change of heart and this whole Donald Trump thing is not my fault,
There are a limited number of seats open on this love train
I mean…
let’s be real, ok? Americans want epic battles and
Dad never smites people anymore,
Whatever happened to a good old fashioned smiting?
The way I see it, as long as Michelle doesn’t figure out that I am not white,
She and I are golden.
Anyway, thanks for listening diary,
I gotta go…Michelle and I are getting matching Jesus fish tattoos
I know, the irony, right?
Jul 20, 2016
Jul 20, 2016 at 10:46 AM UTC
Few years from now where you
Will be living a fulfilling life and
myself unruffled inhabiting the latent aura ,
Ouch!then smites the peripetia,
Ensuingly at a gratifying glance,
You see me,you merely remember me.
Your mind ponders but your eyes struck
as if it has a memory,but
at the very Perceptively
poising moment I see you,
my mind and eyes struck intimately,and
Satiable senses synergize momentarily,
while the other senses get numb.
Nothing travels in my mind,
no electrical impulses,it is as if I am meditating,
but my eyes gets emotional as if it bears an image.
It secretes the preserved fluid
that gravitates to my cheek,
where my hands scatter it along my face.
the years don't matter,even at the touch
of trance,you sprout from my thought.
The thoughts of partaken moments
vacillate in my mind,perhaps,
my senses don't work but
my heart works for you......
I love you for the millionth time,as
I say this it adds to another or nothing.
(A moment that happened for once,
never promised to happen twice nor hence,
but the fantasy pursues me thence,
the fantasy that pierces (me) )
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 1:45 PM UTC
The falcon’s wings beat fast like thumps of primal sacraments.
Battle continues endlessly in the cosmos, ever nearing total destruction.
While the ancient masters of the mountains watch and wait,
the hummingbird bravely enters the fight and smites us all.
Feb 19, 2014
Feb 19, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
Relieve the pain.
Scribble words.
An act mundane,
to his universe.
He'd had enough,
and so he said –
*~
Oh my love!
I have paid.
All my love,
down to the pave.
For you bore not,
the love I gave.
Untie my knot,
undone this slave.
~*
"Set me free!"
His heart exclaims. . .
"I loved not thee."
She proclaims.
Then cometh to his wits,
it was he who enslaved,
himself to pain down the pits;
when for love he had laid,
His Soul. His Truth. His Bliss.
Then so he wrote one final creed,
the last of his odes; his parting plead.
Drag me deep down!
To the depths of fiery Tartarus!
for love is an act so murderous,
that everyday it smites mine heart.
I've given up this life I own,
sold to ink for one purpose.
Write poems, songs, odes; all in chorus.
Cram all ardor into immortal art.
That if one day I be finally known,
for the fool I was; in love I lose.
May my path not be used,
that time I know I've done my part.
"To play the act of the b r o k e n f o o l."
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 11:51 AM UTC
The boy-king wanted to incinerate
A fell and meretricious thryrus.
His grandfather would venerate
The same staff, terrified of curses.
His mother’d slandered the drunk god,
But regretting feckless blasphemy
She counseled them to spare the rod,
Until they heard the divine decree.
Once the summoned prophet had appeared,
Blind, and clad in a frayed, goatskin cloak,
The monarch sputtered “It’s cursed, weird,
And wrong, burn it down to ash and smoke!”
The former monarch begged, “Appease
Bromius with primeval rite,
A lord who smites his enemies
A lord too terrible to fight.”
The daughter next, “His worshipers
Run mad, and slaughter their own kin,
Even children. The god massacres
Those who dispute his origin”
The prophet lifted up the staff
And tore the ivy from its tip.
“Rites, massacres, don’t make me laugh,
And immolation’s sponsorship.”
He swung the staff to test its heft,
And said, “I need a walking stick,
The drunkard has no bacchics left,
****** the goatish lunatic.”
At this, the grandfather turned pale,
And the repentant mother winced.
Matched severity cannot avail
If fear and butchery convinced.
A proverb soothes the quondam king
And the dowager, “He frightens you,
But moderation in each thing,
And that in moderation too.”
Nov 1, 2021
Nov 1, 2021 at 3:33 PM UTC
Sadness may be a lover's world
Loneliness its dark gray clouds
Yet, love's beauty stands out
Like a spotless white dove
Flying against, a somewhat, eternity of blackness.
Oh the silly things we do for love
She smites us and make us cry
But away we wipe the tears and wear a hopeful smile
So that all pain gets concealed behind a thick mud wall of love
The longer the cry lasts
The tears begin to melt the mud wall away.
All the flickering stars of hope fades away,
Of emptiness, loneliness and emotional pains the heart begins to ail
Each day dawns wearing a new face
The sun smiling and yearning for a smile back
In the rays of the sun
You will feel the warmth of my love
And in the stillness of every song
Hear my heart beating strong
Oh yes, it is all in love and nothing wrong
If this love is true
Though it burns me and you,
Even through this emotional storm
She will bring us safely home.
I love you, dearly, I really do.
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 3:14 PM UTC
Pulses and waves
Have their joys across my body.
Son of Aphrodite, he that smites ******* with an unknown Promethean heat.
The delectable wound on my chest marked from his piercing arrow.
Animating force, who's origin is only mumbled in gentle whispers
across my neck.
Shall we build our haven upon him,
Before the Father of The Sea washes us away?
Eros will save our love from the gallows
And forever gleam those beacons in his eyes: The idol of arrows.
Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 8:12 AM UTC
Whence the saint felt himself
Aggrieved by the sinuous blight
His apostles stood meek
Bequeathed off consensus malign
And its weight so foreboding
His shoulders denied
Ever so slight
And the ***** cursed her bane
As inimical smites bore her brain
She spoke in a slur
"Tug on my nape as you pierce me this night,
So a passage may emerge
From this face you despised"
Ever so slight
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 10:11 AM UTC