"spitefully" poems
Picked up and dragged through the air of violent twilight.
Crash landing into each world of pain.
Grow up; learn up she told herself.
Red lipstick, tight dress; bad girl good. Unrested she was, she was unrest.
Unrest in her mind, unrest in distress.
That girl was nocturnal,
her life was night.
Although star & moons glared,
reluctantly lit,
her blue skies were none but bottomless pits.
Duck duck GOOSE, once a child without care;
I choose YOU, life spitefully said.
GROW UP; LEARN UP, she scolded herself.
Keep your head up, keep it down.
Too much air, too much water,
too much CONSCIOUSNESS.
Low then high then low again.
One minute was 60,
but she blinked and it was over.
So much time was so little.
Disregarded, she became the Object of obsession.
Danced too fast, danced too slow;
never by the beat of her heart.
Chaos!
Calamity!
Joy!
Insanity!
GROW UP, LEARN UP; she forgot herself.
The madness before the storm,
the storm of never-end.
She had to grow up, she had to learn up.
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 9:01 AM UTC
Stay here
when everything says run.
Stay here
when the jaw grinds shut.
Stay here
when the breath runs thin.
Stay here
when you're out of your skin.
Stay here
when the drink calls quietly.
Stay here
when the voice says spitefully,
"you're not enough"
because
when it comes to this stuff,
running feeds the fire
and true healing requires
staying here.
Jul 2, 2019
Jul 2, 2019 at 9:42 AM UTC
We use video games
To make video gains
Until the screen goes black
And reality attacks
We lose all our progress
In the deletion process
As we level up we devolve
Around the TV we revolve
The more experience we gain
The more moments we lose
Our memories forever stained
When this is what we choose
Our life inside a hard drive
Our life becomes a hard lie
We revel in being unwise
Rage quitting life
We enjoy strife
And avoid pesky light
When we live in the dark
With consumerist plights
We are all marks
Video games balance in a zone
Between game and art
The frustration starts
When art is confused for games
And games mistook for art
People take things to heart
And spitefully spew viper venom
If this is where games send them
Then why do we play?
We have no other way
To feel accomplishment
In a society that worships competition
Video games become the second edition
Of a life filled with loss
On our pixelated cross
We are murdered millions of times
Reminiscent of the millions of lies
That make us losers in the real world
Video games become our shiny pearl
The computer displays defeat
When our lives aren't complete
Because we need someone to beat
Not realizing our lives are conquered
By frivolous topics we've pondered
Our meaningless life squandered
And hope comes in the form of new releases
While inside our faulty headset is in pieces
Sep 16, 2017
Sep 16, 2017 at 3:13 AM UTC
Rivalries are an excuse for animosity to be abused.
A tradition to explain the irrational and depraved.
A justification for future insubordination
Of logical arguments by the sane.
Beasts competed with one another through physical altercations,
But we have evolved to call everyone our brother.
So why is it that we must see fighting between one another?
Why is it that we may not all show that we're lovers?
Is there something wrong with the tolerance of each other?
Whatever rationalization is created for the promotion of hatred,
Should be abolished and ashamed,
That it may show its head and become a vein for placing blame,
Is unsettling all the same.
We are all too similar, and that should not promote altercations of an individual,
Rather it should be used as a connection to the familiar.
It should be used in stride with the builder
Of peace, and a reason for all this nonsense to cease.
We have developed into adults,
and it is time to show this with amiable results.
By citing a rivalry as traditional is exactly the reason
It is sinful.
One day we may see the end of this spitefully built fence,
By breaking down the wall separating far too many of us all.
I hope it is my lifetime here, for failing to unite us,
is my deepest of fears.
Apr 30, 2013
Apr 30, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
A painted mirror
With the image of love
Only intended to show her exterior
No matter the size of the shove
They pick spitefully
Tossing flecks of dried work
But she responds oh so delightfully
Forgetting her crafted worth
Born to show others an image they'd like to perceive
Dead to have not even the maker grieve
Jul 16, 2018
Jul 16, 2018 at 10:13 PM UTC
Holding me firm, I can feel it incarcerating me.
With my ankles bruised from carrying the same heavy chains, day by day.
Chains, that will keep hurting my ankles with every step I take.
I can hear them squeak, tearing my tympanum with every drag.
Reminding me remorselessness that I am one more slave.
Working under its rules, shaping my life with my every breath.
Punishing me with all my memories and rewarding me with an unknown future.
At night it laughs spitefully seeing that it has caught me in its timeless web of an insomniac hex.
And in the morning it plays the same joke seeing that it has caught me in an eternal doze.
I wake up , following the ritual it has for me, slapping me in the back with its whip declaring its power over me, as my owner.
At 7:00 am I wake up indoctrinated by a false faith" Thank You 'God' for this new day ( I thank a 'God' I do not know a 'God' I do not follow)" I suddenly feel confuse.
7:30 am; I shower.
7:40am; I choose my outfit, one in particular that will disguise my insecurities.
7:50am; I have breakfast. My palate already knows the taste, and it protests intensely for a new tang.
8:00am; I walk out of my house, feeling the wind through my body silencing the cacophony of the chains and the beeping of the time clock they hold.
With every beep, I realize I can be late. I rush.
9:00am; I start my ritual, managing papers in an office full of sick people, just like me. Moored by their own chains to their own sorrows, with different time clocks and slaved by the same owner.
4:00pm; I plead it to go faster, to show me mercy. It laughs.
7:00pm; It frees me from my work routine, I thank it before it slaps me in the back again.
8:00 pm; I'm home the chains feel looser now, and I have a break.
9:00pm; I eat dinner same flavor, my palate prepares to taste the same.
10;00pm; It orders me to go to bed, to laugh again about by insomnia and wake me up with no pity.
It doesn't care about what I need, I go under its rules.
It threatens me everyday with my memories and it frightens me with an unknown tomorrow.
And, I only have 24 hours each day,60 minutes in each hour and 60 seconds in each minute to do what the calendar of life has for me .
I was convicted with a human felony, and I am currently serving a life sentence in this time machine.
I am cursed by time and my challenge is to defeat procrastination and monotony.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
I may only be seventeen years old, but I can already tell you this
that I am sick and tired
I am sick of the people who are judgmental and the people who are unkind
The people who tell Atheists they are going to hell and the people who mock Christians for wanting something to believe in
I’m sick of the hateful way people speak to each other and how everyone tries to form some kind of negative opinion about one another
I’m sick of the bullies in school who drive kids to suicide
and the parents who never taught them to be kind
I’m sick of macho boys thinking its cool to hate and easy girls with zero self-esteem
but more than that I'm sick of the society that made them feel this way
I’m tired of the snobs who turn up their noses at self-expression and of the hipsters frowning upon the so called conformist squares
I’m tired of making my own life choices based on a fear of someone else’s negative reaction I’m tired of people who look for the flaws in my life instead of basking in the beauty of their own.
I am fed up with people who complain about the clinically depressed and the people who spitefully use their own rain cloud to block out the sun
I’m fed up with people who don't know how share and people who take advantage of their friends
I’m fed up with cheaters, liars and the inconsiderate
All in all I am fed up with cruelty itself
It serves no purpose other than to blind people from the beautiful reality of our lives
Hatefulness needs only to be replaced by love and acceptance and then perhaps there will be an overall higher level of happiness
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
Would you now go spitefully hating the sun
Or go viciously plundering pretty flower beds
Or go crushing underfoot, fall leaves in contempt
Or turn gently into the fresh fold of snow?
Come, come, dear child, hold out thy hands
Let me gently embrace thy spindly frame
And divest thee of thy onerous cloak
For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose.
If I told you which season you'd die in
Would you relent with ease, when the hour falls upon you?
Should you know I'm not as fearsome as most believe
Could you surrender the lent Light I must return?
You already know the answer without knowing
For it is not how you look, but how you look!
You no longer remember, it's been so long
So, I ask it plain: Would you really want to know?
You are not just a spoke on the wheel of Life
Which needs to, as the seasons, turn resolute
Yet you pass through them all, simultaneously
Save, your linear faculties confine your esoteric bridge.
Take joy in aestival airs, the apex of fruition
Springtime soil so easily squandered, bear in mind
Access introspective glimpses with hiemal hibernation
Autumnal foliage is but a screen, time to get real!
You cannot have the sunshine without the rain
Nor expect fine blossoms without fair travail
Seek thus the true bounty bedecked in full view
If you had but the seer's eyeless sight, dear guest.
As you travelled from one season to another
Did you live fully, even in between them?
Yes, the tiny labyrinth-passages you overlooked
Time to exact the price now run overdue.
Too attached you are to world and kin
For none of these, can you take with you
But beneficial acts and and good intent
Cosmic trick of genes is cecity delivered.
The one whose life you may regard so worthless
Retains a level which allows his soul to pass through
The eye of a needle, not measured in numbers
Hoist your soul on, tilt your core... I carry you home
So, come, wayworn traveller, hold out thy hands
Let me tenderly close thy brief visit here
And divest thee of thy onerous cloak, prithee
For thou art at journey's end; thy vessel awaits repose.
Star Toucher, 24 March 2013
Mar 24, 2013
Mar 24, 2013 at 4:06 AM UTC
Miles and miles of....
Space, stretched mouths, lips
Drawn apart, gums claiming their
Contents and the......
Famous uvula left dangling there
Tonsil twins, the septic sisters
Wore white adornments today
Salt stained specs sitting spitefully
Chastising for last night's overdose
Remarking about being off colour
Tombs stones stained on plaque
Patrol alert, tongue wearing a
Its stale white winter coat
Colour palette was off white today
With blue garland furnishings
Strategically placed under the
Black veil of last night's mascara
Nostrils dragged their contents
Into the daylight, sizing up and
Producing a contest for the
Incumbent tissue trail that slowly
Gave the receptacle in the corner
A purpose for the day...to see how
Sturdy it claimed to be before it
Regurgitated....spluttering and coughing
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 7:15 AM UTC
just to spite you
i hope the angels
rain down on you
all the joy and love
one could possibly take
in this life
enough is never enough
for you
deserve the world
ten times over
if all the oceans
transform into pure
bliss and
emptied themselves
on your spirit
i hope it won’t
make a difference.
Nov 30, 2021
Nov 30, 2021 at 2:24 PM UTC
A cactus in a plastic *** all year ‘round beauty skips.
But to its own advantage, so too, do snails and thrips.
Its outward look gives not the eye the pleasure eyes demand.
It even spitefully responds to its caretaker’s hand.
However, once in a blue moon (If you’ll pardon the cliché)
Sun kissed jewels emerge to show their bountiful array!
Other plants all year ‘round blossom, showing off their prize
But the cactus reveals an unforseen beauty hidden in its guise.
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 1:35 AM UTC
I find the notes we wrote,
and I want to burn them;
they make me sick.
"I love you;"
I want to throw up;
the thought of you
makes me sick
and angry;
even still.
It comes in waves.
I can't seem to help it.
I am deeply vexed; irked.
You have such sickening gall,
audacious and licentious girl;
You inspire such rankle
by that of your own;
I hope it is in youthful folly
and not evidence of malign habit;
though there is no way for me to know,
yet patterns are what they are
and I know people who've seen the patterns
much longer than I have;
I can no longer deny their Authority on the subject.
So, I'm sort-of sorry,
but I know I shouldn't be;
I really shouldn't feel the need
to apologize for how I feel,
especially when I feel that way
due in part to the actions
of a supposed
"Lover"
I willingly made myself
raw and vulnerable to you,
and you alone.
I gave you my Heart
with trust that you would care for it,
and you went and spitefully stabbed it
over and over and over and over again
without so much as a thought of me
until it bled out in your hands;
reap what you have sewn,
injurious, flippant girl.
All's fair
in Love and War,
it seems.
Sep 5, 2013
Sep 5, 2013 at 6:10 PM UTC
Jaw clenched tight, almost painfully.
Watching the door, I caught your glance.
Managed to drape a smile upon my face.
Those 20 steps you took to reach me.
That feeling in the deep pit of my stomach.
It never subsided. It will never calm.
The feeling of immense anticipation.
Jumping off a cliff. No parachute.
Taking your seat opposite me.
Nervous laughs, small talk.
Edamame and Riesling.
Tense muscles tore through my body.
You wore a braid consciously.
Almost spitefully. Almost dangerously.
Dumbfounded at your beauty,
I swung at your wine glass. It was mocking me.
The night progressed. I felt more at ease.
Heart pacing faster than a failed trapeze.
Finished up our meals, we entered the cold night.
Frigid air graced our cheeks.
Finding ourselves inside a local bar.
Curiously attracted to the curious brews.
Conversation became much more organic.
Flowing as efficient as the drafts.
Sneaking peeks at you in the mirror.
Wondering what thoughts reside inside you.
I couldn't have possibly left a great impression.
Nevertheless, you wore that Riesling with pride.
-
A month melted. It cannot possibly be just that.
For years, I've had these butterflies trapped.
Just for you.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 11:33 PM UTC
Conspiracies and your rants
From underneath the table
She’s disappointed
Abandoned can she be saved?
Thirty and still home
A dim future haunts the youth
Be alive or practical
Talents are wasted
Reality forgets us
And we avoid it
Spitefully you stole our things
To try to remember us
Little creatures crawl
The family heirloom broke
Dreary white lilacs
The denim pants don’t fit
Stop, the step is giving out
Horses side by side
You had reupholstered the chairs
Ticking metronome
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 12:26 AM UTC
Maybe I should've stayed sober
when you came over
and the lines, walls and words
started to blur,
but in that short skirt that works so well
you had your hand under my shirt
and those evil eyes that excite
,unafraid of hurt, that night
someone paid the price
We befriended a bottle for a three day ******
and a sledgehammer hangover had my
brain in the blender
waving a white straight jacket
in surrender
We'd wake up to a mirrors shameful stare
Mixing love and lust without a care.
In some sort of sinful cocktail,
each and every time our wills would fail
some small part of my broken heart
would merge with hers
as we pretended to be whole,
I let passion poison my soul.
We'd Dance in a drugged induced stupor,
imagining a false future together
so I said that I loved her,
But
when drugs wore down we fell to the ground
Sweet lies started our slow demise.
She'd say she was fine but I'd find her in tears.
So I held her in my arms while I couldn't feel,
but after being so numb, nothing felt real.
Then she begged me to share
just to show that I care.
So i said it was better to lock myself away
For fear of the words that I needed say
The two years together instead of forever
As you shredded my head apart
And I spitefully tore out your heart.
When we were close
we'd corrode and corrupt
and from a far
we'd suffer in silence
In your pain you fell for someone else,
forcing me to smile while I rot away in side
But,
Tired of passing round the disease that was Blame.
I severed you from my mind and heart
and separately we slowly fell apart.
On the verge of death with a fist
clenching poison
and our body barely breathing we were
Self sabotaging star crossed lovers
with a semi fatal ending
Sep 11, 2019
Sep 11, 2019 at 7:10 PM UTC
But I, I Prayed
Though mouths of deceit and slander opened wide against me,
Returning love with words of hate to cut me so spitefully;
Joined together to make war upon Your child without reason,
Raining down torrents of terror on my goodness; turning treason.
But I, I Prayed.
So they would see me, turn away and whisper and shake their heads,
Never suspecting they’d return home to sleep in such cursed beds.
While no one may see God, God sees all, and the Lord heard my plea,
Merciful to the merciful, God strikes down the unjust in divine decree.
Because I, I Prayed.
Now nothing more to fear,
In arms so strong and dear;
Melody surrounds all around,
And I sleep safely in the sound.
Oct 12, 2014
Oct 12, 2014 at 8:52 PM UTC
You were taught that love was earned not given
Power and control secured affection
Competing for a section of security
Survival was a piece of you, you gave to me.
I know I can't take away the pain
Because your grandfather gave it to your mother to send my way.
It hurts me to think
That once upon time,
You were just someone's baby too.
Just like I am to you.
And you always wanted better for me.
Financially there was more stability
But together we erupted violently
Volcanoes crying spitefully
Scared to ignite the rivalry
You told me that the world won't take care of you, unless you hide your own vulnerability, make yourself useful, you'll have more opportunities too!
The markings run so deep, I stand by the family tree
I beg him to tell me the secrets. I need to understand the story.
These branches hold generations of survival, feelings that don't hold glory.
Unconditional love is conditional
Nothing is reciprocacal if you don't show your worth it- in the end. It's important for your survival to stay undeniably valuable to attain any kind of sustainability, my friend.
I didn't speak
I just let the tree whisper to me
Taking in the breeze between the branches
I heard him tell the tragic tale of each members past transgressions that later got imbeeded into my own actions.
Can I escape the fate of surviving the roots that are within this tree.
Or will I become a branch, forever bound to grow in the same direction.
Seen, but out of reach
Losing touch with affection.
I hope to find that I can be my own seed.
Move close by,
but away from the original family tree
Mar 5, 2025
Mar 5, 2025 at 10:07 PM UTC
I’ve had but only one experience with romantic love. For a flirting moment I felt that someone was interested in a deeper relationship. But I don’t know if that can be true or not, because I will never be able to ask him. Whatever it was that we had was so carelessly taken from me, so spitefully placed out of my reach, and out of my sight, and hopefully soon to be out of my mind. But he couldn’t leave my mind alone. The thought of him would loom over me, I could feel the presence of pain behind me. Memories of him loomed like his gigantic shadow.. a shadow looming over me.. such as he did on our last encounter. He was so cordial then, and gave me the warm pleasantness of his embrace. I was very glad to see him, for things between us had been distant for the past weeks. He called me doll like he always used to, and things felt as if they were the same as before, as though nothing had changed. Very little did I know that the following morning I would be struck with the bitter news. I was so foolish to have not realized what I saw with my eyes on the previous day, and too bemused to say much of anything to him upon hearing. Our relationship had unexpectedly come to an end. I felt as though he had died, when all that happened was he left me to pursue another. Within one month I experienced emotions that I thought I never would. I loved, then cried, then loved again, then cried again. Within just one month one person gave me a new experience, a new feeling, that no one has ever done before. He made me feel some way. I don’t know how to put it into words. It is a very challenging and bothersome thing, when you can’t put something into words. In most cases, I am able to conjure at least a sentence to describe my emotions. However, whatever feeling he gave me was beyond my vocabulary. But now he’s gone, removed from my life, and I’m left with the memories. I abandon any feelings I once had of him, and work everyday to relinquish the idea of what we were. I was in love with the idea of us, even though I never knew what we were. If I think about it, we never were much to begin with, and what it was in the beginning is hard to label. The only conclusion that I can draw from my experience is the one word I have tried to avoid my whole life, out of fear for it ending as this experience has; love.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 8:40 PM UTC
Spitefully contorted prosecutions,
In the form of attachments,
Anchors tied to our ankles,
You know as well as I,
With fear, we wrought them,
Afraid we'd be left to rot without them.
"No man is an island" said someone.
But we are,
Floating,
Weighted,
Treading,
Storm waters, currents, possibilities,
Any direction,
No direction,
No shorelines,
No light,
Let alone an end to the tunnels we've dug out,
And lost our souls in.
In an ocean wide oblivion we reach for the smallest commiserations, you sought my condolences,
Grasping onto me for one steady breath,
And in what looked to you like your grip slipping,
Drowning without meaning,
I saw a slight slip, in a battle,
With a heaviness as ingrained as the need,
To survive,
To swim out to open sea.
But honesty begs me to tell you,
I never was a swimmer,
And I can only loose so much ground,
Before I, myself, start to drown.
Maybe, when your feet next touch,
I won't love in the form of metaphors,
Until then,
I'll see your vastness, raise you a lostness,
And challenge you,
to a race through everything,
Life can throw in our faces,
To change us,
Amaze us.
And maybe, just maybe,
I'll see you on some sunny day by the water,
Somewhere,
Drifting to me,
Finally in awe of the undertow,
You fought,
For so very long.
Feb 24, 2014
Feb 24, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
Her eyes are red.
My bodys blue.
She speaks her truth but lies so true.
She's guilty.
I confess all to you.
I wont learn to hate her
It's her i adore.
Tongue like a blade.
She wont cease to implore.
straight to bed with the thoughts in her head.
A tale of love versus lust.
Rotten.
Decomposing to dust.
Spitefully twisted, her razor like wit.
Spilling her abuse like a sickly *****
I lap it up even though I know I shouldn't.
I should've cut this tie but I knew I couldn't.
A journey unrelenting, destined to fail.
She'll bury me deep with this finally nail.
Digging my grave through winter wind and hail.
Poisoned by her beauty.
And the sting in her tail.
Feb 26, 2015
Feb 26, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
Reaching
for the words to say
pulling them from
this black hole
of tempted misery
Tempted to call
hesitant to dial
closing the phone
in desperation
Writhing and twisting
with aches that persist
and **** with delicate intent
keys pressed to my fingers
my words flow out of me
into this medium of
electronic space
Not from my hand
do my words come from
but my mind, my pen
a useless old friend that
is neglected beside me
An overwhelming wave
of ocean sweeps over me
crashing in on my thoughts
On the cusp of a revelation!
the wave pulls back out to sea
lost in the translation of the water
mixing spitefully to muddle my
epiphany, my fleeting thought
lost in an ocean of feeling
One hand grasping onto the shore
gripping at the sandy surface
with nothing concrete to hold on to
Thrashing away while I dig myself
a hole in the sand that deepens
by the second
Digging my grave I weep,
the sand mixing with my hot tears
as they stream freely down my face
making mud
A muddy grave I am doomed
to lie in,
to be reduced to a pile of nothing
that gets washed away,
swept up in the
ocean of emotions
Apr 4, 2010
Apr 4, 2010 at 4:46 PM UTC
Rhythm is a paperweight for my soul.
Timing is another part to the whole
of my being and existence.
Buoyant troubles are lifted by bottles,
floating atop the suds and bubbles
that I've been consuming.
Feathers fall from wings long spent
flapping, trying to pay for rent
seventeen days late.
Memory-foam-flesh coated bones
recalls touch even while alone,
and then it's gone.
Like clockwork, I'm habitually inclined
to turn up time and **** my mind.
But they're all just paltry substitutes
for the you that I'm spitefully addicted to.
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
I don’t know if it’s just the bitter cold
or the failure of the liquor to warm my soul,
but there’s frostbite on my lungs and an emptiness deep inside me.
“The future is bright” oh what a lie,
spending every night with my only company; the sky,
the stars lose the fight and even fade when the sun rises high,
and it does so spitefully.
I’ve got unlimited time,
claiming invincibility as a crime.
I’ve got an endless list in rhyme,
but I have no conclusion.
Tell me Scout, is this a joke you were planning?
Boo Radley’s tree is not for hanging.
Gritted teeth and fists are banging.
I’ve got unlimited time,
but no energy left for the climb.
I’ve got never ending points to chime,
but it’s all an illusion.
Tell me Scout, is this a joke I’m not understanding?
Boo Radley’s tree is not for hanging.
Dodging punches and slurs they’ve all been slanging.
I evaluated the situation up and down, left and right,
and I still don’t think it’s accurate of that night,
‘cause the level was too hard when I meant to choose beginner.
I tried to hold your interest with all my might,
but I noticed your eyes drastically dim in light,
the screen flashed “game over” before we were even done dinner.
Oct 10, 2019
Oct 10, 2019 at 8:37 PM UTC
I suffer the effects of this love, the good
the bad
to be sure, your thoughts do invade my mind
so does your problems, your past
unfazed, I trudge forward, as I should
willing to bear your weight
scapegoat? yes! packmule? yes!
only if the open truth exists, I'll be fine
Its a sign, I've lit it brightly
speak to me, even if its spitefully
and I'll do what I need to do for you, my dear
and I'll do it rightly
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 3:03 PM UTC