"trounce" poems
Life’s an upward struggle, and it makes it so much rougher
when the ladder you find yourself climbing is beset by lonely weather.
When every other rung is off doing other things,
the solitude and altitude bring to mind desolation
and the emptiness that brings.
No matter the genius emanating from ivory minds,
the smartest man among us often finds
that brilliance unfiltered clogs up the system,
when others must consume the lonely perfume
of conceits kept alone,
while the common thoughts stay collected
like so many sheep in a pen that’s separated
from self-same lonely thoughts,
that genius oft encounters,
left only amongst the happiness
that fills up life’s happy coffers.
So it goes that lofty ideals become frostbitten
by snowcapped mountains of emptiness.
Others seek the heights together only during pleasant weather,
while those who trounce through snow-packed trails
must brave the climes alone tempted only by fate,
to descend to summits more frequent
than the peaks of accomplishment.
Gangrenous lips cannot utter
the chilled revelations of those left above too long.
So it is left to those below,
not inferior from the altitude,
just more likely acclimated to the difficult, dull journey
of those who spare pristine slopes
for the sullied, muddied slush on the tourist trails below.
Sep 21, 2012
Sep 21, 2012 at 2:49 AM UTC
With the heart worn like an
old man's shoe
With the wind a last friend
of my second hand jacket
all blown and frail
I continue
to denounce the golden streets of disguised power
to trounce on hidden cops
to pounce on everything rotten in Denmark
to reek and to rage
like a rusting zoo cage
an overturned ****
a pensive white button
withering in my brain
a push cart filled with
burning accusations
I remain
street bound weary
I'm that secret little hope
gnawing at the nape
of your neck
Note: Re-written in Sofia, Bulgaria on the 14th of July 2012 after once again (after so many countless times) being followed and harassed even in front of my own house...I guess it's nice to know that some people read poetry very very attentively ;--))
Jul 14, 2012
Jul 14, 2012 at 8:49 AM UTC
Stinking Thieves and Degenerates thus proudly declared
We will drive you paranoid, give you ******* brain cancer
We will put hot things in your head, head lice they blared
We will plant dissenting seeds in your mind by our passers
Chatter and natter with toxic germination brain furrowed
With poisons, fears and doubts we'll polluted your mind
We are the majority and we'll recruit followers in numbers
Build a pyramid of lies and hassles to hound and down grind
One tell ten and onwards, chinese whispers makes you to wonder
Peck like vultures at your life with harassments that's unkind
In our putrid pond, caves and gutters a Grass is what you are
Goody shiny two shoes who stays aloof thinks he's better than us
Whistle clean, no crime or stains, how pompous, how you dare
Evil and destruction is our wont, purity is anathema go you suss
We'll sling mud, blacken you, weaken you and lay you bare
Go call your Jesus to save you, see if he dares tussle with the pack
The ******* cemetery is full of Saints who we've offered free rides
Showed them the Hell we make for good people before we wack
We'll get in your head and mind and trounce your soul with hide
We are knaves, criminals and reprobates and we have the knack
Yes, we burgled and stole from you, that's our trade, what we do
We are criminals not ******* Mother Teresa saving the poor
You work hard to acquire, we work hard to acquire, isn't it so
Then you chose to grass us up, ruin our trade and shut our doors
see what happens to upright and legit, jobless, lonely and broken too.
Hahaha....hahaha.....hahaha.....next!
Brother watch out, it could be you..............
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
here I am
poor kid
on the polo grounds
quarterhorses trounce the grassblades
here I am
i’m alright in the rain
all right
with something blue
different color
for the horses
of different colors
different colors
i’m grinding hope
on my paintbrush
here i am
grinding hope
in a fray
of bristles
strokes of blue
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 6:46 PM UTC
i.
Mine doting of thou,
Is not wilting amour;
Mine love is more
Then floating, outside
Thy door.
ii.
Even in mine woe,
And caging dolor;
I shouteth thy name,
"Sweet jane' mine girl.
iii.
Whilst even in mine
Suffering, and the
Battle I'm in; with
Satan and his lackey's,
I wilt step upon them.
With thy help, and God's
Discipline, Jane O' Jane,
I'll soareth to the highest
Apex, mine plume's to expand,
Wing's to stretch; Yahweh's mighty
Word, to push them back to the gates of death.
iv.
So mine Jane,
I telleth thou this;
I'm not losing amour,
Nor am I tenderness.
I'm in the stage, of trans-
Figuration, O' soon queen,
We shalt meet in blissfulness,
Beautiful apparition's. Ghost's of
Old, ancient soul's, we'll tasteth
Cascade's of mezmerdade; bralishas
Of barinthia, thitherward the province of
Ourn holy one, next to El Shaddai, meaning
Elohim, also Jehovah, mine Jane and honey-
Bee. Aside the Almighty's throne, And elevated
Seat, his son Jesus Christ on the right- garbed
In robes that floweth with the vim of life. As there
Shalt be none need for the sun or moon, the creator's
Ourn light. A place that's right, wherein there art none wrong's,
Ourn sin's art forgotten within the angelic song's, these song's wilt be sung, on a basis of eternity; none ending, just befriending of the saint's at God's feet. Wisdom shalt be deep, from the beginning of ages, none more false prophet's nor greedy men to ruin the nation's, Concord within ourn Lord shalt follow the month's, as Jane, mine swain, it wilt be in this time's happening;
It's still thee I shalt want. So hold on tightly, don't let loose of mine hand, we'll trounce these dark bearers, and pour holy oil upon their head's, None more wilt they torture us, as they'll flee instead, before of ourn Lord, Jesus Christ, the risen, the man, the son of God, ourn protection, whom hath arisen from the dead.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Nagley dedicated ( Filipino rose)
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 9:39 PM UTC
I want to find those liars
That call themselves statesmen
And smack their faces
And take by the country’s *****
Because they have stolen
The innocence of every one of us
And pushed us off a cliff
In their ******** conservative bus.
Tap, tap, slap, slap
Kick them in the ****
Tap them, slap them
I will tell you what.
Beat them, cheat them
Show them how it feels.
Bounce them, trounce them
Knock them off their wheels.
It’s the work of the devil
To behave the way they do.
Doesn’t seem to be an end
To the crap they put us through.
They are minions of evil
Paid to make our lives worse.
I would push the magic button
And make it happen in reverse.
Tap, tap, slap, slap
Kick them in the ****
Tap them, slap them
I will tell you what.
Beat them, cheat them
Show them how it feels.
Bounce them, trounce them
Knock them off their wheels.
There is something wrong
That they outgrew any conscience.
They point the finger at gays
But really, they are the deviants.
They re-wrote the holy books
So they come out the winner
And the rest of our country
Ends up as the dog’s dinner.
Tap, tap, slap, slap
Kick them in the ****
Tap them, slap them
I will tell you what.
Beat them, cheat them
Show them how it feels.
Bounce them, trounce them
Knock them off their wheels.
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 7:15 PM UTC
trolling the doldrums for crumbs of gold
selling old caldrons to witless witches
wearing goblin teeth and dragons blood
earrings from Hot Topic
I languish in the Emo village that is the United States –
Self-serving ******** preserving their precious habitats
while habitually encumbering the global ecology
drinking biodegradable Starbucks in Buick Escalades
escapade-ing ***** raiders afraid of Mercury in retrograde
staying clear of the mayhem
and playing fear propagating madman
I stoke wildfires with gasoline
prodding the populace into premature *********** –
poorly formed ideas the norm
the scorn for the figureheads shows on the shoreline
boorish oarsmen, moored, pour their kerosene blood
onto the floor…. Sure,
pure Fuerer fodder, but newer shoes
were never shod
and the godhead faces west into the sunset –
druidic fluids escape wiccan slits
as the children of the Azure seas never get to be born
Pleaedian starships collide inside Antarctic subterranean dwellings
indiscriminate shelling of uninhabited caverns
as ravenous reptilians eat the jaw muscles
and left eye sockets
of organically fed Dairy cows…
espoused louse houses in Fall fashion blouses
trounce the infirm in clown shaped bounce houses
again, the sin goes unnoticed
as the blood of the innocents grants the elitists
another thousand years of power –
The tower on the hill still shines in the moonlight
on the 5th night of delighting the religious right…
mighty flightless birds self-assured and fed
on bramble burrs
purr at the sight.
bodies strewn all askew;
the moaning few with skin turning blue
true to the stories of old
as lack of oxygen blends with the biblical beast mark
and staving for air the impaired dare not to ask for Jesus aid…
instead they lay, waiting to be saved –
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 6:03 PM UTC
1- Totes inaprope dope smoker swisher toker blunt wrap roper you be like my ole aunt groper
2- She be grabbin ***** on all ya’ll in the Fall by the ball court short shorts and written reports
3- ******* dorks and eatin pork like nanu nanu Mork with a stork baby drop on the porch
4- Carry the torch to the couch jump up ta bounce see a fool to trounce and slap in the head
5- Make him brain dead said I see red in bedrooms full a ***** mothers slack jaw brothers
6- Druther act like one another than smother muthafuckers with rubber maid garbage cans
7- Hand feeding planned partenthood in the hood acting no good wit mad wood ya shoulda
8- Put those down came round and found a pound for slingin, bringing back the Ringling elephants
9- And cellophane wrapper sandwiches ******* snitching on rich kids for gambling small wagers
10- Drunken rage-ers deranged rangers feeding bears strangers and rearranging body parts
11- Carded farters impart special gasses on mass media fascists allowing brash
Feb 8, 2016
Feb 8, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
Green velvety moss blankets sharp edged stones ,
your feminine fancy awaits on the opposite shore with silken legs
befitting a supermodel in Paris .. A Van Gogh brushed smile ,
the eyes of a fawn , waterfall locks of hair baiting your deadly advance
across the crocodile ridden waters , like a wildebeest you splash and trounce the neck high , raging gauntlet , fighting for every breath of air
as you nervously reach the shore , graciously pulled from the river rapids by 'her lover' , the biggest man you've ever laid two eyes on ...
Feb 14, 2016
Feb 14, 2016 at 7:50 PM UTC
In what light am I undone
that morning stars lead you away
and with the rising of the sun
you bid farewell you cannot stay.
For morn brings mourning to my eyes
and here upon my trembling lips
lie echos of those gentle sighs
that with this night so gently slips.
from hands that plead with lack of voice
yet speak aloud both want and need
for this is circumstance not choice
that seperates and intercedes.
Pray twilight hear my anguished heart
and offer solace to my soul
as I once more am torn apart
without the love that makes me whole.
So I with muted tongue your name pronounce
as darkness kills stone dead our bliss
and mornings manic smile doth trounce
the chance of one last goodnight kiss.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 9:21 PM UTC
Walking through the dark clouds of emptiness,
I gazed upon the stars in the sky
High up in the air, when my life was drifted away,
Far away from this world of sorrow
To the place I've never known.
There I saw a women in tears,
With her knees on the floor
And her hair hanging down her shoulder.
Her eyes filled with pain and the fear inside,
The agony from her face,
The fear from her weak body,
The cry from her heart,which were never heard.
The blood she shed, were all dried
Which were never felt.
Not knowing what my heart bleed for,
I face myself to the mirror.
Nothing more do I saw
Then the emptiness out of me,
The thirst for what was not known.
A knight with a broken soul.
An angel in dispair.
The lies behind the thruth.
Faith that were trounce
Eroded by the seasons of life.
The fear which were never known.
The strength which betrayed the mind.
I heard a drop of water from a distant
When i drift my mind off the soul.
Nearer when I face
Fainting, do the sound gets.
My eyes were folded from the light to gain.
The weakness I hate,
Are now my strength to acquiant me which were never known.
I cut of my sight to gain the light.
But the dops were still apart, waiting for a life to hold them.
The love that were departed
Were only what my hate cries for.
Then my soul was given back to me.
_____________________________________________
Jul 18, 2011
Jul 18, 2011 at 12:05 PM UTC
Drowning in the sorrows of everyday life,
due to a fight at home with a rotund wife.
Things are never as bad as they seem,
...Well actually that depends on how much you let them mean.
But still with mildly corrected vision,
and possibly an unplugged ear to listen.
Things can sort themselves out,
before you go finding a noose to hear you pout.
I swear the chord offers little bounce,
as your life will be quick to trounce.
You'll be left to dangle in pain.
As you realize it was for no gain.
Apr 2, 2012
Apr 2, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
For when the sun burns and turns colden,
The bright yellow spurns from beauty golden,
to a lack of interest for a system
relying on light to pour; listen
though sound travels less
in haste, it makes our bodies bounce.
For when the girl is burned and trounce
The bright mind spurned from evening gown
to a lack of interest to assist him.
He relied on her light to pour; her to listen
though sorry travels, lest
after distaste, it makes us pronounce.
For when a mistake is burned into history.
The stone cold as etched again, and sought.
Good will may be borrowed, entrusted, stolen,
but rarely bought.
For when a daybreak creeps into horizon.
The stones thrown as glass houses brought
Goodly upon their foundations,
in the naked eyes of all sunspot.
May those coloured fractals of which lurch deftly.
Return to shared ***** directly, swiftly. Freshly.
Aug 5, 2018
Aug 5, 2018 at 4:37 AM UTC
An inferiority complex means you are always wrong, even when you're right.
It means in a room full of people you will be just another shadow.
It means no matter how loud your voice is, you'll never be heard.
It means when it's your turn to talk and someone else takes it from you, you let them have it because they have more important things to say.
When they are mad at you for no good reason, you will apologise for everything you've ever done because you know it was the wrong thing to do.
Who are you to live boldly?
Who are you to take the sword instead of the sheild?
To take a stand instead of your worn out seat?
Who are you to be yourself in a crowd of strangers?
These people do not want you.
You do not belong.
You will never be good enough and you will remind yourself of this everytime you try to make an effort to be something special.
Because you come from voices that have been lost in the wind.
You come from leftovers discarded in the trash.
You come from abandoned cities.
You come from empty homes.
You come from nothing ever acclaimed enough to stay around for.
You are reminded of this in crowds.
You are reminded of this in deserts.
You are reminded of this in the company of your own most cherished relationships.
You are the needed silence to voices more impregnable than your beating heart.
Your walls are not to be destroyed, because no one wants to see the wreckage inside the desolate castle.
No one wants to hear about the kings who have conquered your land only to find it wasn't worth the trounce.
Rulers will not even mention their triumph over your kingdom, for it will trivialise their feats.
An inferiority complex means you will fall vulnerable to anyone even remotely salient.
You will remain in the peripheral vision of history.
You will live and die on the fringes of society.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 9:45 PM UTC
...'non'd solace broken me, no lover 'round to give a hoot.
(sonnet #MMMMMMMXIII)
Me. Say t'invoke the violets' wonted tale
As if twould be what my soul'd cherish hence
To vaunted heights, aye breathless for intents
Could I but revel in that auld detail
Whose white and purple-striped wee faces' scale
Of sorrow drew me ere I could from thence
Acknowledge th'import's by all counts pretense.
Yea, trounce my songs, and whither to avail?
Should I don overshoes and search as twere
The forest's muddy trails like pilgrims who
Own heavn on earth, we'll call it far too poor.
My sonnets three years 'go belie what'd woo,
Cuz I ****** all joys where Death 'gan to tour,
And wrote to whom is not, that: I need you.
14Mar18b
Mar 17, 2018
Mar 17, 2018 at 8:42 PM UTC
Paramount is the irrefutable type of lonesome summit which may seem insurmountable.
In a very similar vein, parables can trounce a fable in as little amounts as can be had.
Which is bad.
Madmen are retracing such systems.
Its invasive and avarice makes middle mice
only faces of fevered feces.
Some say sadness is so soft
Hardness hates love aloft
Often our oars on eager edges hedge on hopeful heights.
Oversight makes watching worthwhile.
Stylish bends can curve a stone set senate.
Pen dipped still smelled rennet onto bent tilted tent poles.
Showmanship should make me charming and care for chitter chatter
but that meant little when the latter was spoken
Opened up innings choked what's spinning into gray air.
Fairness means sharing, and loving means care.
Feb 20, 2018
Feb 20, 2018 at 4:01 AM UTC
Mould me
Shape me
You can't
Take me!
I'm in Him
You can't
Break me!
What goes down must come up!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
What is spilt just leaves the cup!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Bump me! Bounce me! Hit me!!! Trounce me
Just you
Try and
Keep me
Down. I
Won't fight.
I won't
Frown!!!
In Christ
I'm strong
In Christ
I'm blessed
In Christ
My weakness
Becomes
My best!!!
Soul
Survivor
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 3:29 AM UTC
I'm a furry little dancer
a sleek bewhiskered chancer,
I wanted to pounce you
bounce you
trounce you with my paw
shiny sunbeam on the floor,
you were here just now,
and then you were gone,
such shame our game can't carry on
Jun 1, 2025
Jun 1, 2025 at 2:49 PM UTC