"strangulated" poems
Love is in ruins
Kneeling for mercy
Strangulated hopes
Fiefdom of tyranny
Silent weeps of soul
At the altar of Love
There is remorse
Stranded humanity
Devils show no remorse
Love is in ruins
Jul 19, 2014
Jul 19, 2014 at 2:12 AM UTC
left cup runneth over/
right cup half empty/
if I add my left cup size to my right cup size what will I get/ DD + D = DDD/I've never been great at math/but this is no/miscalculation/
I am 36 DD confined to a 36 D bra/
(D)Disgorges over the underwire/
D--you flaccid beach ball/I wish I could reinflate you/part my mouth around your nipple/and/
breathe/
no one can tell/unless I wear a tight bodice/then/you are/obnoxiously evident/
I am afraid of introducing you to my future boyfriend/will he still want to undress me/will he still want to make love to me/
will he still want to touch you/
you/
sea urch/in/the palm of my hand/
even I am hesitant to hold you close to me/
you/
strangulated bagpipe/
moulting pompom/ ****
what's that spell/
what's that spel/
what's that spe/
what's that sp/
what's that s/
what's that/
what is that/
what/
who are you/
you/
waning gibbous/
my metaphors wane, also/it turns out there are only so many euphemisms that can be assigned to an/ill-proportioned breast/
itsy bitsy titsy/
you make me/
sad/
you/
teardrop defying the laws of gravity/
or/
is it the laws of gravity that defy the teardrop/so that it never falls into/
place/
I've noticed only/beautiful/things/
fall/
shooting stars/
autumn/
my left *****
Oct 18, 2020
Oct 18, 2020 at 5:19 PM UTC
i was sitting drunk alone in a yellow flannel on a dirt
and patch grass hill beside an empty picnic table when
you sat down said hi my name is sam and i'm tripping face
that was no secret judging by the size of your pupils and smile
i asked to borrow a layer from your lip-gloss and
you happily obliged after verifying i had my circle-circle-dot-dot
you laughed hard and said you'd never been this high before
when you let me finger you on the ferris wheel with
the scene from the hill a distant seven minutes in our past
you watched with tears in your eyes
and smiled as i pulled my body
away from your candy thighs when the ride stopped
and stuck my sticky fingers back in my mouth
you said you listened to music better with your shirt off
and sure enough your ******* perked up like antennae
when my fingers slipped under
your half-shirt like an innocuous splinter
in the great pink epidermal amphitheater
you proved to be a nudist burlesque queen wearing
a hailstone necklace and a gold coin skirt that jingled
when you walked or skipped or rubbed your *** on me
i felt so immediately attracted to you
and i still do i can see you when i close my eyes
dancing free in a delicate psychotropic mushroom haze
whispering slap me silly as we walked hand in hand down the hill
you kept talking about your girlfriend being jealous
of my fatal blue eyes as the music drifted like breath
between us your hair was heavy with the smell
of mushrooms beer sage and rain
we took several overpriced shots of tequila and i lost
another six dollars in drink tickets when
we spent a whole dj set lying in the grass in the dark
with the lights from the stage spraying over
our heaving naked sweaty chests with my
hand in your gold net skirt and your tongue in my ear
the clouds were knotted ropes of wet white cotton
the sky became the sea and your fingers found my
feverish lips like a cool prayer
i looked up through the oak tree porthole
to find the strangulated sky
whirling in on itself like water
in a washing machine and i
let a dolphin carry me away out to where
the waves were boiling and wild
the stars salty and deep
Nov 6, 2015
Nov 6, 2015 at 10:01 PM UTC
This isn't real ,
It can't be,
A vagrant spirit,
Creeping with echoes,
Shadowed,
Asphyxiation
Strangulated as hernia,
Causes pain,
Risking death,
Shallow ground,
Drip drop,
Walls are melting,
Smells dank,
Hanging in the atmosphere,
Encasing frightened ears,
Being aware,
For whilst asleep,
Can you weep,
Hate the dark,
He keeps me sleeping,
Dawn shatters night's illusion,
Tension released after sleep,
In joy you awake,
Night creature released,
Cobwebs washed away!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 6:23 AM UTC
The hands in iron gloves
Strangulated the heart
Unknown face in a mask
Meant to fool the gullible
Feelings strewn all over
Trampled with disdain
Leaving behind trail of pain
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 10:54 AM UTC
Nocturnal
Posted by Olivia Kent on May 25, 2013 at 6:10am
View Blog
This isn't real ,
It can't be,
A vagrant spirit,
Creeping with echoes,
Shadowed,
Asphyxiation
Strangulated as hernia,
Causes pain,
Risking death,
Shallow ground,
Drip drop,
Walls are melting,
Smells dank,
Hanging in the atmosphere,
Encasing frightened ears,
Being aware,
For whilst asleep,
Can you weep,
Hate the dark,
He keeps me sleeping,
Dawn shatters night's illusion,
Tension released after sleep,
In joy you awake,
Night creature released,
Cobwebs washed away!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 25, 2013
May 25, 2013 at 6:22 AM UTC
It was in my subconscious mind, that I met you
I stood in front of you with a bleeding heart, feeling all blue
My mind was drained, I was entangled in thousands of strangulated thoughts
And I felt as if you were someone I already knew
A river of serenity flowed through my eyes
When you held my hand and we wandered blithely
You whispered, 'I am here to breathe life into you'
To pull you out of the black hole of emptiness. I am here to make you feel lively
In the twilight of the dawn, as we sat on a beach
You wrapped your body around mine and our souls caressed
I could think of nothing else at that moment. I was so lost in you
Happiness glided through all my nerves and I felt blessed.
You were a stranger to me but, you didn't seem one
While I was in a perplexed state seeking for an answer;
I heard you say, I am a part of your subconscious mind
But I make you feel conscious, more than you are in your conscious mind.
Sep 13, 2020
Sep 13, 2020 at 9:22 AM UTC
Dear diary, today is the day-
The day of communion,
The day of impregnation,
After a series of cursed sterile nights.
So, dare not to hoist any **** excuse
To stay behind the draperies of modesty
And hide your immaculate flesh
From the ferocious tip of
My hungry dying pen.
Let your voluptuous pages
Woo the ink out of my pen
So that, its strangulated wish
To scrawl a masterpiece,
May finally get materialized
On the contours of your *****
©Badee Uz Zaman
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 5:27 AM UTC
When my mind wants to stretch as high as the sky
and my soul would move in as deep as an ocean,
When my voice needs to reverberate earth's every nook and corner;
and my body longs for a space to breathe my life out,
Oh Mankind! Why did you imprison me?
into that clusters of tradition I didn't choose for,
into those chains of men I didn't opt for,
into the god-forbidden civilization I didn't ask for
and into the clutches of death I didn't seek for.
amidst domesticated minds is Me, the caged bird
waiting for the vault to open and the closet to collapse for I know,
Strangulated souls will be liberated by death! -
the death of narrow-mindedness!
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 7:10 AM UTC
Feverishly
Feeding off cod
Discursively meandering
A letting of blood
The culmination of my own
Psychosis coagulated thought
Strangulated nonsense
Drools
Into a pool of
Spue
Desecrated
With frivolous ideas
Emanating
A stench beyond reason
That only I
Find scintillating
Sort of like
Maggots
Ensconced
In putrid libation
I drown
In spasmodic
Maundering
Fumbling about
In lunacy
Hungering obscurity
Self-debasement
Defile me
My every gratitude
The rope is only the tool
Slithering
In filth
Of my own demise
Bathing in its
Deprivation
Thoughts of the rope
****** sirens
What chance have I
To deny my fate
The rope is only the tool
Reverberates soundly
Surrounding me of my failures
Swept up in a
Deluge of self-hatred
The rope is only the tool
Yes!!! **** You!!!
But I
Prefer the slow
Deprecation
Of the
Blade
Aug 5, 2016
Aug 5, 2016 at 2:12 PM UTC
black coffee on the table,
clean cold steel-chiselled Glock
loaded and placed in the bed-drawer.
The sharp wire that smells of the skins
and flesh it has strangulated. A black pair
of gumboots, a black overcoat, a black void
of past. A distant daughter who loves strawberries,
cats with abhorrence for your existence.
Cadillac, a pair to tan gloves, a love for silence,
love for the sight of eyes turning red, pleading
A packet of cigarettes, a bottle of Miller’s
An emptiness that spreads, a death that patiently lives.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 4:29 AM UTC
Pulling a person
who tied himself
from the past,
is a person
with strangulated
heart-
and this, a death
every
dusk and dawn.
-qyf
Aug 21, 2016
Aug 21, 2016 at 10:42 AM UTC
A Saint's fall from grace
Was written in subtle remission
Misgiving the unknown lengths
Within his impending perdition
He sits alone with Familiar near
Drawing permissive ethereal energy
Through a single ring finger
Seemingly from nowhere
Incoming ancient rites
Through unprecedented sight
Which is merely a foreplay
Unto the forays of his personal plight
For he lays with the knowledge
Of angels, deities, and Divine kings
Paralyzed within these confines
And unable to speak
The peril of an incorrigible feral beast Presently feeding on his precious sleep
A sanctified clandestine ritual
Opaque within the haze
For the utter ignorance of his current form Can not be fazed
All the while perched above him looming
The orders of the past
Which cast his imminent ruin
Strangulated by a single urgent thought
To which is owed his undoing
An existence to remain subservient
Fluid, and entirely alone
As was the expedient nature
Of his excommunication from the throne
And though he's been devoted
Thoughtful and reminiscent
There still lies a lingering shadow
Dissipating in the distance
The latter to which can not be replaced
With any amount of insistence
For ice burns the veins
That label him a Saint
There's no way to defame
Or ever replace an ordained vocation
Innate spun the tine of the fate's Creation
Needless abandon to pursue explanation When the weight of his burden
Entirely subdues resignation
It's simply the ripples of the current Resounding within his present station
Whispering into the deep heart of his fear
With it's morbid, amorphous face
Ever reminding him the story
Of his final fall from grace
May 5, 2020
May 5, 2020 at 7:54 AM UTC
Alea iacta est
Nonsensical deconstruction of the sublime
by the Lowest common denominations
Fatuous misrepresentations of diluted empricism
in the mangle of adious incapables
The mass strangulated death of reasoning
luxuriating in copious vacuities
Hail the Power of bacon as it is to Pigs
sizzling fried Imperialism
BLT sandwiches for all the pyschopaths
throw in
a round of chips
Nov 21, 2023
Nov 21, 2023 at 7:02 PM UTC