"stye" poems
Starting with coverage from BBC2.
Brushing calm shadows into
pastel hills.
A rhythm paints terrain a
sugary brown.
Flicks of green create
fauliage serene.
The clean tasteless air is
cotton soft.
A effortless stream runs
cobalt clear.
Where salmon gymnastics begin
each year.
Squirrels practice dance routines a
glamorous red.
The doormice dressed and ready
for bed.
Continuing coverage on Ch4.
The perch, the tench sat together on an underwater bench.
Discussing bait and hooks whilst flicking through some fishing books.
What's he eating? Mr Mole,
it looks like cheese and ham
on a soft brown roll.
There's a chicken and a fox that
live round here.
Seriously, they've been dating each other for about a year.
Now, if you take the next left,
then over the stye.
There's a duck lives there,
call in and say, hi!
Poetry by Kaydee.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 10:09 PM UTC
There once was a stye in my eye
I picked it off
and did not cry
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 8:30 PM UTC
a spiders hairy legs
the comb you forgot you left under your bed
covered in tar
yesterday morning's coffee filter
barbie's toilet brush
the holed paddle of a canoe.
tall tree branches without leaves
the potted plant in the corner nobody water
the ****** of your grandfather's bead
this is a trip to the ER
for a stye, pink eye, no eye
this is friendship and fear
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 4:05 PM UTC
I should start being serious for a change
it’s not everyday that I get the chance to make my mark-
an eruption of countless warts- figuratively of course
they’ll remember even if they don’t want to,
like the stye that wouldn’t die despite surgical excision.
then there’s you
who wants to forget me
my girl, who did you **** last night?
I know we agreed to stop seeing each other
but I would love to hear your stories, inside you.
I’ll be gone in a few weeks
all this talk of seriousness has condensed on me
like the cold sores you leave me with
eye sores for coke ****** with daddy issues
I’ll be your daddy, I’ll even be your brother if it gets you wet.
Don’t slit my wrists yet
I can still manage a compliment some days
give me a hundred reasons to abandon my ways
and you know I won’t do it
you know I won’t even try.
I want a good **** before I go
maybe a cigarette after that
I quit smoking, but I’ll bump the easy one without warning
and *** I won’t settle for anything less
I want you to watch as I take shots off your *******
Wasted days that count down
quicker than your menstrual cycle
have left me wanting for time
I wouldn’t waste any differently,
probably, worse.
Preparation is turning out to be quite a grinding ordeal
late nights, empty pipes, lungs dry and well past ripe
tendons screaming for respite, finger tips peeled
your tongue- lets me know it’s time to sleep
If I wasn’t serious, I’d be picking up where you left off.
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 5:04 AM UTC
Trite query from pen so weary
My muse has blown a fuse
The light that once shined has declined
My fleeting hope hangs from a rope
A vagabond whose muse did abscond
With illuminating spark leaving him in the dark
Out on a lark; my scuttled engine in park
Night and day I recon the lexicon
But the literary discourse is no recourse
To a stray itinerate who has lost his way
The stye in my eye has begun to cry
The pus is no fuss; my page is dry
A rhyme for a dime would be sublime
Perhaps, a bartered verse in my purse
Will break the curse, or still worse
Might stain with shame my languishing pain
Incarcerating my fraudulent pen in the critic's den
Oh, if words would rain then my brain drain
Would filter inspiration to my perspiration
The fertile strain if only but a grain
Would fertile sprouts shoot extinguishing my doubts
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 8:25 AM UTC
I met a traveller on the road.....................Chin in hand, a heavy load..........He sat before me on a grave....A man in though of the brave.......................... And slowly passing, by his side, I felt him crying for those who died...................And looking down I saw a name, Him, my father was his name...............Stepping on a crooked stye, I overlooked the bluest sky...............Old men travel, down the roads.........Each burden him, to each his load!
Sep 4, 2011
Sep 4, 2011 at 7:51 AM UTC
Mixing metal shrapnel
With my ******* powder.
Reality; lost its handle.
Death; surrender Your power.
Listening to them
Is **** at gunpoint.
I only follow him,
The rest burns in my joint.
Pigs squeal for your green,
Or to join them in their stye.
Surrender to greed?
I'd rather die.
Ill swollow the hollowpoint
Rather than society's pill.
Burn the faces of the coined,
Resist the demons on the bill.
Fight with me.
Bleed with me.
Die with me.
Victory is ours,
No matter the outcome.
Monsters by the hour,
This is what we've become.
March Forth.
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 5:17 PM UTC
Please know that;
I
Don't want to live
But I
Don't want to die
So I
Become a captive
Deny
My modus operandi
The lie
Is naturally aggressive
Can I
Adapt on the fly
Can't I
Be illusive
'Till I
Can answer the why
So I
Will try objective
A good guy
Give it a collage try
Then I
Become reactive
This stye
Permanently in each eye
I try
But the mole hill's massive
And I
Still have no answers to why
I cry
That's all I have left to give
Still I
Knew better than to be believe in somethin' like an eye for an eye
But who am I?
©2024
May 5, 2024
May 5, 2024 at 2:05 AM UTC
come quickly
come quickly
you silly old dog
when they thought of the name,
they'd probably had thought of a creature like you-well then right on the dot
for a pig with a stick in his eye and a stye for a leg could have begged his way faster to freedom
and found more to eat in a day then you eat in a week-but you stay?
And i wonder and ponder by ponds full of water collecting my thoughts in a vase now discolored
what marvelous mischief might happen if beast were no sanction and all things with thoughts were judged solely on actions
morality then would weigh heavy with sanction and perhaps no man dines at the right of the lord
only a creature, deemed fit to absorb his observance
for now, it is begging to get very hot in this furnace
Oct 3, 2013
Oct 3, 2013 at 9:04 PM UTC
I met a traveller on the road, Chin in hand............a heavy load........ He sat before me.........on a grave A man in thoughtful......of the brave! And slowly passing, by his side I felt him crying, for those who died And looking down. I saw his name Him, my father, was his name Stepping on, a crocked stye....... I overlooked the bluest sky............ Auld men travel down the roads Each burden him..............A heavy load.
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 6:43 AM UTC
Creator. Creation.
The ******* of sentiment and pride.
A stye on the natural dye, spoiling all but the eye.
Appearances deceive the meek and kind.
The rotting essence of this one’s heart just won’t die.
Another day of silent abuse, welcoming another smile.
If ignorance had a role model like this comedy would never die.
The arrogance of prejudice stains thoroughly.
The absent hours come alive until the inevitable return of the inherited honor.
The squandered respect, the virtuous dishonor.
The forsaker.
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 4:53 AM UTC
Come with me, we'll go and see
a world through eyes of despair,
where children cry their tears of blood
that rains from out the air.
Where bodies lie in every stye
that wraps 'round every bend,
and broken dreams lay in the streets,
never to flourish again.
Harpies flare through razor air,
and harlots ire the land.
Stay your breath, lest shall you fall
unto their starving hands.
Screams of fear ring loud and clear;
cacophonies tremble the wind.
Banshee wails doth trail the gales;
listen to the gospels of sin.
Gaze unto horizon's hue,
so beautifully bleak, and black.
Miasmic decay corrupts the dawn,
and chokes the daylight back.
The countryside's nowhere to hide,
for there's where cannibals dwell.
Marrow, bone and bloodied flesh
fill the outskirts of our Hell.
Drops of flame akin to rain
fall from out the sky
from toxic clouds of blackened smoke;
we're all gonna fuckin' die.
What say you, oh filthy shrew,
shall we sign you in?
Come inside, you've naught to fear.
Come bask within the sin.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 6:27 AM UTC
Does this look infected?
Is it a skin tag or a stye?
Maybe it could be a cist
Rub some salt of the Earth in this laceration
Side with the one who says to burn it off with a cigar
The same cigar he used to burn off those leeches when I was younger
My soft gaze is fixed upon the wall
Woe, is me
Whoa it's me
I've skipped a meal and now the voice in my head is screaming
"A collection of weapons
Brought to the masses
It pumps adrenalin
Into the veins of the caste system
Think outside the box"
Neotreric inklings are inbound
During my wall gazing
I know what I must do, I have the tools
I am calm, I feel it calling and I see the path
I catch a glimpse
I grasp the concepts of existence
I practice and become aware
Now I play my flute and ride the white ox home
I omit efforts
It come naturally
It always has
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 11:59 PM UTC
Denny all authority
corruption of conformity
Never believe all that your told
Don't let your self be bought and sold
Our legal system is an utter stye
So let your middle finger hang high
It is time for every soul to unite
And win this utterly ****** up fight
It is time for all of us to be free
And let a better order be.
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 5:36 PM UTC
I WARNED you
YES I warned you of the horror that was to come
But you didn't listen and the invasion has begun
From cracks and crevices in the ground
From dark caverns in the hills
ESIOTROT emerged to devour and to ****
Granny woke this morning
Cried out in great despair
Her carefully tended rose beds
GONE
No longer there
They ate the leaves
The bushes and trees
And even devoured a hive of bees
Nothing could survive
They swallowed frogs
Then the cats and dogs
Took piglets from the stye
Gathered by the bakery
Devoured all the apple pies
Why did you not listen, take no note
When I warned of things to come
You said you knew best
I was being a pest
When I said ESIOTROT would come
I looked outside, to my surprise
The tyres from my car had gone
For nothing is safe
No hiding place
When the invaders come
Now if you don't believe in ESIOTROT
Then take a mirror in your hand
ESIOTROT will be revealed
When you turn the word around
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 2:59 AM UTC
I pass bins bloated and stinking
dead pigeons squashed 'n rotting on the floor,
I pass the rich, the greed-infested
sniggering entities dancing on the backs of the poor
I pass dogs nailed high upon billboards
apartments riddled with flies,
out in the distance a stray cat whines
curdled with the sound of a child's cries
I pass drug addicts sneering and leering
arms pock-marked and bruised -
through *** drugs and addiction
obsessive compulsive dispositions are infused
ecstasy the fuel to the stars beyond
to a world way better than our own;
through poisoned hope and substance abuse, upon our brains
the stye of sickness has grown
[music blaring formulated and fascist
Oh save me ground control! Ashes to ashes]
for is it any wonder I rot from inside
doomed to death by a heart blackened and sore?
Crawling along, the carrions line up on the horizon -
my cuts bleed, my bones ache, pain this body can't take anymore
nineteen years I've waited to be loved
alas nothing but a crass compassion that neglects
oh please -
please tell me
I'm not destined to live like these rejects?
["I'm so happy... hope you're happy too"]*
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
My dad writes about villages, hamlets, and hay
What else can he write about? The light of the day?
My father wears linen suits
my father pursues
his poetry style.
His stye in the eye
his pie in the sky
but why, father, why?
No one is looking for questions
and answers are blind
I keep reading my Hamlet
And I fall behind.
Dec 27, 2023
Dec 27, 2023 at 8:23 PM UTC
Her riot forced her into predomination
Of all the abolishment this was
The final end
She played the game
Far too long
To not give in
But to leave
All for once
And all at once
Blackhole ****** thru me
Turned toward
The torched Sun
Only to peel the bleached
infectious skin
Vibrating in the
Noise I call THE WIND
It whispers at first
Then turns up the volume
To see a traveling herse
Jokingly I submerse my body
Only to find that the
Purest necter
Negotiated on that tree
The vines wrapped around my leg
Wouldnt
Let me Go
Thru it
Around it
It wanted to eat me whole
And so I let it
For a season maybe two
But wasn't this the me
I'd hoped for lived with
It gets confusing
And this mess
Looks like a mess
A pig stye room
And after eating dinner
She roast a toast
To her dead lovely awaiting
Husband
Patiently they walked up and over
The corpses law
Jagged and weary
Their bones fell
Into each other
Lost they put the
Wrong pieces together
And now he's she
And him is her
Everything doesn't
Make sense
Except for true earth
Which vibrates
At a frequency
That is drums like WIND
Like fire
Like all the crusted attire
These women warmed me with
Nothing beats the flesh
Of another true warrior
Nothi,e and I mean
NOTHING
REUNITES AS IMPALLING
AS HIS FLESH RIPPENING FOR HIS OWN URGES
Kisses by sins nature
He throws shame and anger
Meeting her at the door
He greets his afterstare
Nov 5, 2019
Nov 5, 2019 at 6:14 AM UTC