"spited" poems
King Minos,
Spited by the God of Oceans,
Hesitated but a while
Before poor Pasiphae's bull-headed son
Was penned inside the labyrinth,
And then, as if to throw away the key,
Inventor Daedalus and his dear son
Were for their work a prison tower fee'd.
But they grew wings, for as we know,
An inventor's work is never done...
If only Icarus had listened
And kept a proper place below the sun,
Breugel's painting would have lost
Its distant splashy focal point;
The plowman and the shepherd would
Have stood alone above a perfect sea.
Old Minos never had a chance,
And though the cunning Hunter,
(He, who found the man who
Made a string crawl curving
Through a shell behind an ant),
Had won... decided to disrobe
And take a dip...a foolish act
To choose when Daedalus
Would serve a hot revenge.
Daedalus, who knew the score,
Burned wood to make the water soar;
In vengeance vented spiteful wrath,
And cooked old Minos in his bath.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
We are hydrocarbons
We all burn
We are all laughed at
And we all get our turn
We produce our own enemies
We almost smother ourselves in sadness
We all release CO2
When we die from this poem's badness
We all want to be superior
We all want to be the equalizer
We want to be leerier
Without being the sympathizer
We smite and are smited
We hurt and we heal
We spite and are spited
And have a tenuous relationship with what's real
We are hydrocarbons
We are equal despite what we aspire
And if you don't agree
I'll light you on fire
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 4:45 PM UTC
When she was young,
her mother asked,
"Why rush ahead,
without thinking,
about the consequences?"
She ignored the question,
thought, "Like you care, Ma."
and to spite her mother,
she spited herself,
went on her not-so-merry way.
Now,
a lifetime later
broken,
anxious,
addicted
medicated,
she peers out,
from behind
the shade drawn window,
with half closed eyelids
a mouse peeking out its' hole,
afraid of the consequences.
Dec 25, 2011
Dec 25, 2011 at 9:14 PM UTC
He longed for
something surreal...
But she spited
him with reality.
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 1:46 PM UTC
Why bemoan love’s loss?
To whose lot it may fall
Treat it akin to candy floss
One deprived may stand tall
When there’s no receipt
No dues are ever owed
Who never knew deceit
To him Gods have bow’d
What if sentiment
Is unrequited?
‘Tisn’t ornament
Cast off, de-spited
Loss of love is never an issue
Shun it, or plunge in anew!
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
Bartered tears with your love adorn
Twin streams from pure, spring founts born
Sappy pores gushing with showers of contrition on christening morn
Exchanged with vows that o'er time were weathered and torn
Briny waves of doubt crested; fealties' banks shorn
Now bottled memories silted with salty tears forlorn
Eroding tear ducts innundated then with passing time worn
Brackish vapor distilled with rotting dreams; with nauseous fumes borne
Corroded promises mired in a dry bed of scorn
Cloaked in callous foliage; spited with thistle and thorn
Meeting at the jaded fork; once vibrant streams solemnly mourn
Stagnant puddles awaiting reincarnation; at next season's fertile rains reborn
Aug 12, 2011
Aug 12, 2011 at 6:11 PM UTC
-They say my head's up in the clouds
The way I speak, think, some would label it as "loud."
I'm unable to deny; thoughts fuse themselves with my specific imagination
No retries, I simply cannot falter. This is what will finally earn me that craved standing ovation.
-First things first, don't you dare look down on me
That ill-thought notion in itself is just a tragic catastrophe
Refusing to put in effort, here I stand
Life ahead of me now? Not a single second planned.
-I'm a joke. A simple disgrace.
A huge understatement to say you hate the sight of my face
I've no excuses for my recent nihilism
I'm free but also bound; psyche imprisoned.
-But your disgust is irrelevant to this entire tangent
I'd do everything again with absolutely no regret
My "loud" thought process is simply contradictive
Parts of my mind nothing more than vindictive.
-Venial in it's purest simplicity
Certain situations exemplify my irrefutable superiority.
So keep it coming, your spited words don't hurt,
"Head in the clouds," expectations similar to dirt.
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 10:46 PM UTC
8AM strikes like a *****
And romping the losing street -
The engineered reptile stalks the hound we are.
The soldiered army, oozing molten pride,
Spike me in the side with their knees
Lifted to caution, so-so below the chin
The cold, dead breath bullies like a child
Never been taught, never have they ought;
I give them pity like spit, the drool reared.
The glands of my sodden state are nucleic
They spark and fizz and pop at the slightest fix
And they mount the green turf as they say the things they say
They say them in spite
Their eyes to register a flat-line, the pulse of my eyelid
Froths staring into their granite granules, you call them eyes
I do despise, I do despise,
The heartless range of those hunter-deers,
The wet pathos that criminals invoke
And then, I woke, the rage, the rage!
A mountainous affair, cracked into your skin
You wished I were dead so you could be thin.
And when I am not hot,
Risen, aired by the microwaved Monday dawning,
I can almost laugh about the spaces between your eyes
The slight disgust, the frozen musk
Awns over me, little fist tight of pink
Ears rabbited off -- a sharp, twisted empale
And then, you are there--
Frozen and dominating, your coffin spooks to me
A spoken longing and then all we know wilts
A running red cloak of tartan regrets
Jades the illicit wail bespoken after the instrumental twist
The torture device you call your words is broken out
I ask for one thing, beg for it, screech it
To the solars like I am owed.
Knowing Death, if not heed, the spited greed--
Give me strength, for the thoughts
The thoughts, that blow through me
Windswept, gliding the dead human ash through my marsh
Do not upturn the limped greyed grass
And blow through, a harmless storm,
With nothing to say about how I carry my day.
Move on to your homeward-bound, your
Concentration plantation, reeling off dead spinners
Like your words, your cold ******* words.
You slimy ******* you ****
I have spoken, one million syllables,
For your satisfaction.
You lord it over me like a raw-meat hand
Of the disciples. Well, well, Judas, Judas --
I bite my tongue. I bite it so it jades.
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:48 PM UTC
You have green teeth you scabby *****
No one else will want you more,
Can't do better,
I'll tell you so.
I'll keep on ,
I'll let you know!
You will not go,
Not leave my house,
Cower as a frightened mouse,
You're not leaving,
I don't care,
Grab you,
Swing you by your hair,
Punch my fist around your face,
Cause you make me sick,
Will demonstrate prowess of evil demon,
Kitchen knife displayed,
Locked the doors,
Barred the windows,
You can't escape,
I got ya!
Vile man,
Spited me,
Actually spat at me,
Full abuse and over use,
My God,
I was so stupid,
This man was no flaming cupid,
I was so controlled to see,
He never really wanted me,
I was his sucker,
Not crazy *****
Nearly lost my family,
Close to losing friends,
Affected my son,
He was the disgrace!
Not Me,
My teeth aren't green,
I'm always kind,
I won't do that again,
Don't need that kind of ******* pain!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Dangerous, the creature must be divine,
Resolute, the flame she has ignited,
Ingenious is the will of gods design,
Voice of agony, cries a heart spited,
Enigmatic, the dream we will be one,
Mystify the heavens and the earth,
Yearning the kiss, will burn even the sun,
Searing lips, angels are given at birth,
Owning the heart of a love struck fool,
Undying hatred, the man I did unearth,
Love I refuse. . . . it is far too cruel. . . .
Dec 8, 2009
Dec 8, 2009 at 11:03 AM UTC
The Earth went silent,
it was the aftermath of the End;
the crooked shadows crept between all spaces,
then the Cloudfolks returned.
They stood still watching at us,
it was during an August eclipse.
"Pitiful are the sleepers who don't dream." Spited to me one of them.
So s/he took my hands and gave me a sphere,
s/he told me:
"You shall not swear your life in vacuity."
And so I knew it was time,
it was time of tempests, and beautiful extinctions,
it was a time of grief and sharp pain.
Their eyes were black as void,
those fuzzy white cloaks were cold, and those hands...
And before I could even awake, one sitted in my bed and whispered gently to my ear:
"Embrace the Omega."
And so I did.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 2:21 AM UTC
I've scorned and derided,
Needled and spited,
Those, who are closest to me.
I've cheated and lied,
Vilified and decried,
Those, who are closest to me.
I've toasted many glasses
With strangers in places
Where I shouldn't have been.
I've smoked and laughed,
Admired strange ***
In lands where I cannot be seen.
But mention your name,
And all seems so vain,
Those promises I failed to keep;
The losses that haunt me in sleep.
Despite confessed sins,
My transgressional whims,
I know I've always been true;
And when I bow out,
My whisper will shout,
Above all, I've always loved you.
Apr 8, 2016
Apr 8, 2016 at 10:10 AM UTC
Momma was born a hip hop head
She'd whisper beats and rhymes in my ear right before bed
We played dress up every day
she'd do my hair up real nice
when daddy had the good dough
mamma partied dripping in ice.
and even when the jackets were too heavy
and my braided head too tight
as long as I made mamma look good,
I was doin' alright.
How can I blame her
I only know pieces to her story
there were whole other lives
a long time before me
and to this, I owe her credit
not every day was a dog day
even when I didn't know what to say
I mean she gave me my words when I was four
it made life a little easier when raising the children she bore
And for as long as I could remember
or at least since the 24th of September
She spited dad
promised me she'd always give me all that she had
Wasn't long until she broke it
2 years since we've spoken
but we manage
Momma checked out
left me and my siblings behind
left me alone to make sense of the world with half of her mind
And so here I am now
ripped from my bed
An old beat drew me to write about the love that's dead
12:39 am
Apr 18, 2019
Apr 18, 2019 at 9:32 AM UTC
Nosferatu would have balked if not gone bald.
They, too, from themselves their selves do balk.
Circumnavigate the lily pond,
Iron Lady in the swaddling baking egg pies, with spited
Curlers in our fronds and — equanimity's edict — forest green-eyed addict — is
A plumbed plum; a dendritic denizen for the cypress,
Willow that 's hung! Willow that sung! Soothing it hugs
the sights — such sour honors — so smooth-over the boy's club, so you can get in or out whichever youregoingfor;
bring them their rose water which drips next to the
chiffon and the lubricated sewing table — the grape to-
mato-mottled lunar ligament: by dew of the top lip, do lay —
go gray in taut winter
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 6:42 PM UTC
Lost the Light Poem
April 23, 2013
Hello darkness.
Can you help me find my friend - the light?
I seem to have lost him.
Ever since, I feel this stinging sharpness.
It’s scary, I feel like I am jumping from a great height.
Unsure, I feel as if I have been paralyzed in my limbs.
What if he doesn’t want to be found?
Will my friend - the light, ever return?
When will I see him again?
No matter how many poems I write.
Or a sad, sad diary entry.
I just can’t make things feel right.
These emotions rock me anything but gently.
It’s all **** Gone to ****
I’ll delete the memories from that day we spent at the mall.
I’ll take another hit.
My medicine can be smelled all the way down the hall.
I don’t want to look at another piece of paper again.
I refuse to pick up my ***** of a pen.
These feelings become thoughts and they translate into words.
I look at them in front of me and read them, they stampede me in herds.
I’m done being undone.
I want to finish what I started.
But if I try to pick up where we left off, I run.
In the wrong direction - away from the sight of you;
so you can’t leave me broken-hearted.
Please release me from your torture chamber.
Being a stranger to your love is no easy labor.
I refuse to be unrequited.
I want to hate you just so I can be spited.
But I can’t.
I’m just a miserable plant.
Denied the light needed to grow.
Until the the darkness fades and you let me know that you’ve decided not to show.
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 7:55 PM UTC
I shan't ask for what I know isn't mine.
One day's gentle whisper reminding me
Of that which can still tarnish all my shine--
Realization dawning on memory.
Spited silver-grey clouds hovering by,
Shadows of shade identifying all.
Your shape contrasts, illuminating my
Reasoning mind held gentle in your thrall.
So, this metamorphosis will take place.
A logical heart will cease to ponder,
I will no longer see life as a race,
My love lost soul will no longer wander.
Yet, I cannot help but ask a favor:
Return my love if ever you find her.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 2:48 AM UTC
"It feels like swallowing nails for saying this-- but for you, I wanted all that cliche, Valentine's day cheesiness. On any other day, for any other person, I would puke my guts out and rather **** myself than be a girl with hearts for eyes and roses for sleeves. I never thought I'd want what other couples had that I scoffed at, condemned, ridiculed and spited because for the longest time i thought I was too good for all of that... until i met you. Right then, I realized that the only thing worse than shaming people for what they had was falsely glorifying my own loneliness as something grand was that there was nothing worse than loving without being loved back."
Feb 15, 2014
Feb 15, 2014 at 12:57 PM UTC
To the few unwelcome guests who
chose to show up uninvited,
and to each who tried his best to
shake the hands of those he spited:
I salute you by the passion,
and the honor, and the name
of every friend who fell from fashion
to the King's ungodly game.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 11:34 AM UTC
If alcohol is a crutch for one's brain
then narcotic pills are a candy cane
not if you're looking to manage pain
(although those intentions can change)
but to hop on the sugar rush train
just know once the pez dispenser is drained
you'll have to walk all the same
after the sugar train sugar crashes
and you must escape the sugar ashes
of a powder overload
that people confuse with blow because you explode
once your sweet tooth is exposed
you can barely speak because that's all that's left of your teeth
and your only way of relief
is atop a pixie stick peak
surrounded by a cocoa ocean
perpetuating turbulent motion
so you look for sugarless lifesavers
like that's asking a light favor
after you spited neighbors
over candy flavors
but now you need their help to walk
they'll think you're nothing but talk
because you thought your cane was the kind used by pimps
but take it away and watch how you limp.
May 15, 2023
May 15, 2023 at 1:24 AM UTC
there are a few things that go through my mind
when someone misgenders me or uses the wrong name
my name is easier to remember?
the pronouns are tiny, tiny words and
why would you do that?
do you know what it feels like to hear your past and want to *****
you may not like violence
but right now you're punching me in the mouth
and since when am i an "it"?
tell me how i am a freak of nature
tell me how i am a monster
i am a living thing, we learned that in science
even though i take medication every morning
i am not sick
even though i have to hold back bile every time i shower
i am not sick
you are not doctors
how can you diagnose me?
why would you?
my gender is not your property
i am not a dog
i will not be your *****
you do not have the power to define me
i will be whatever the **** i want to be
really, it's none of your business
our entire childhood we were told to be ourselves
but now i am spited and questioned and laughed at because i am not what they wanted.
maybe being human isn't enough.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 4:21 PM UTC
There were days
Where *** was love
where human bodies use to bond like atoms
before condoms formed a fluid block like the gates to heaven.
There were days where *** came before safety
And love was in the skin
Then *** arrived.
Okay Kids...
See... there were days
Where bodies interlocked like chains
A hook so electrifying love had no boundaries.
and we use to call that 'HUGS'
There were days where
month spited glorious venom between chicks
There were days where
Hands hugged and moved, the world stood still.
With a spot light
on a Red Carpet COVID-19 arrived, blood on the floor.
Mar 20, 2020
Mar 20, 2020 at 11:17 AM UTC
I’m so ******* terrified of love
I am so ******* terrified of putting myself out there.
And I feel like I loved you because you were ******* gorgeous and amazing and most of all
you were kind
I felt that love would not be a battlefield of angry limbs
and spited curves
with you
And I don’t know what to do because I feel like
I spent so much of my time working my way up to being capable of you even just you
that I might eventually be able to brave a rougher existence
That when you didn’t happen for me I essentially cut the bridge open beneath my feet
once everyone had hastened across.
And now I’m stuck.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
The past speaks
to the present
often loudly
and with rancour
not content
to be buried:
revive me
reconstruct
the foundations
I've laid
let them perish never
for
there's a beginning
in everything
too well you know
I've been used
and abused
spited upon
and misinterpreted
wrong
must be righted
lest truth
be crucified
I await
to be resurrected
I was the voice
of conscience
the repository
of every man
and woman's tears
the refuge and sanctuary
of their pain and fears
the face and emblem
of humanity
over countless years
I stand
in dignity
still--
I won't step aside
I'll fight
for my right
oblivion
I'll not accept
lest in silence
I waste away
and in some
forgotten corner
weep and die.
May 15, 2019
May 15, 2019 at 8:30 PM UTC
Momma was born a hip hop head
She'd whisper beats and rhymes to me right before bed
She gave me my words when i was four
from then on i thought i needed nothing more
And for as long as i could remember
or at least since the 24th of September
She spited dad
promised me she'd always give me all that she had
Wasn't long until she broke it
2 years since we've spoken
but we manage
Momma checked out
left me and my siblings behind
left me alone to make sense of the world with half of her mind
And so here i am now
ripped from my bed
An old beat drew me to write about the love that's dead
12:39 am
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 12:40 AM UTC