"vandalised" poems - Hello Poetry

Draped in boundless pride she strolled along the streets, the town's flamboyant prima ballerina. Still little did the debaucher know her. Defenceless she laid as he spanked and clouted her, Her vehement howling and wailing couldn't stop the yanking of clothes. Motionless, emotionless she laid while he plundered and mutilated her body. Vandalised by an uninvited visitor, Incapable of moving her body the ravishing ballerina reclined. The scars he made was not on her body but deep in her soul. That gloomy night whistled away for the sun to flare its first ray. '18 year old violently molested and deceased'. Hence the prima ballerina became a mere newspaper headline.

0

Jan 8, 2019

Jan 8, 2019 at 12:50 AM UTC

Scarletstories

Prima ballerina

Draped in boundless pride she strolled along the streets, the town's flamboyant prima ballerina. Still little did the debaucher know her. Defenceless she laid as he spanked and clouted her, Her vehement howling and wailing couldn't stop the yanking of clothes. Motionless, emotionless she laid while he plundered and mutilated her body. Vandalised by an uninvited visitor, Incapable of moving her body the ravishing ballerina reclined. The scars he made was not on her body but deep in her soul. That gloomy night whistled away for the sun to flare its first ray. '18 year old violently molested and deceased'. Hence the prima ballerina became a mere newspaper headline.

18

You knocked I opened the door, in you came. At first you felt safe as you settled in, familiarised yourself with my space with my most intimate belongings. Then you slowly but determinedly vandalised my space. I asked you to stop, to leave. Each time you went out the front door you insidiously returned through the back door when I was not looking. You burglarised my heart, my soul, my mind. Your lies and deception became my super glue You knew it and you abused it. I wasn’t swift enough to get away. At first we were easy, as time went on a knot formed in my stomach. Tightening and tightening I never knew what was next. You locked me into your deception. Fierce enough to keep me where you wanted, as you wanted. You walked away no better than a con-artist, A thief A thief of my heart, my soul, my mind You know what you did Now I see it clearly I will take you on As I find my feet again And regain my space My resolve To face you in a court of law To challenge your abuse of my soul and mind.

0

Feb 19, 2013

Feb 19, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC

patricia-tsouros

When I was Not Looking

You knocked I opened the door, in you came. At first you felt safe as you settled in, familiarised yourself with my space with my most intimate belongings. Then you slowly but determinedly vandalised my space. I asked you to stop, to leave. Each time you went out the front door you insidiously returned through the back door when I was not looking. You burglarised my heart, my soul, my mind. Your lies and deception became my super glue You knew it and you abused it. I wasn’t swift enough to get away. At first we were easy, as time went on a knot formed in my stomach. Tightening and tightening I never knew what was next. You locked me into your deception. Fierce enough to keep me where you wanted, as you wanted. You walked away no better than a con-artist, A thief A thief of my heart, my soul, my mind You know what you did Now I see it clearly I will take you on As I find my feet again And regain my space My resolve To face you in a court of law To challenge your abuse of my soul and mind.

33

mmm, palce lizać, albo wsadzić je w dúpe i nadawać sygnał wriggly-wriggly alter: wriggly-pigglety; counter-alt? calling it: the miracle of five croutons, and two pieces of sushi... c'mon, let's go crazy! and take it to the excesses permitted by the original feat! (yes, i mean the fish parts of sushi, there's enough carbohydrates in the croutons, so yes, no rice-bed for the tartars). ć is the puritan's aversion to cz / chai; or at least an exfoliation curbor. i write honey, honey honey honey, i write honey, honey honey honey p'ooh bear droned in on it. when i write, i write honey, honey honey O'Milee. from serving in the US and A navy, to a beach-buggy accident. when i write, i write honey - *** e - Atilla styled liquorice - lee co reesh - not liquidated rice - ghosts of latin almost everywhere; quadruple that. convene and converse - contrary collective. some say this might as well be the famous goldberg sardines; when i write, i write honey, i write: honey honey honey... will you be my Duracell bunny? honey, will you be my ******** par excellance? i see... no, you won't be. the museum of Greek sculpture was vandalised! guess what they took, the ****** fiendish crooks! with a wet splash of colour comes the cold marble artifice - a bit like the cool-mouth refrigerator of a woman during felatio... still don't know how she gets that gob down below room temperature. (heresy input, never start a sentence with an) and there you have it, writing, catering for abstractionism, just after he said: they're on a diet.

0

Dec 14, 2016

Dec 14, 2016 at 10:49 AM UTC

removed.polaroid-scrabble

five croutons and two pieces of sushi

mmm, palce lizać, albo wsadzić je w dúpe i nadawać sygnał wriggly-wriggly alter: wriggly-pigglety; counter-alt? calling it: the miracle of five croutons, and two pieces of sushi... c'mon, let's go crazy! and take it to the excesses permitted by the original feat! (yes, i mean the fish parts of sushi, there's enough carbohydrates in the croutons, so yes, no rice-bed for the tartars). ć is the puritan's aversion to cz / chai; or at least an exfoliation curbor. i write honey, honey honey honey, i write honey, honey honey honey p'ooh bear droned in on it. when i write, i write honey, honey honey O'Milee. from serving in the US and A navy, to a beach-buggy accident. when i write, i write honey - *** e - Atilla styled liquorice - lee co reesh - not liquidated rice - ghosts of latin almost everywhere; quadruple that. convene and converse - contrary collective. some say this might as well be the famous goldberg sardines; when i write, i write honey, i write: honey honey honey... will you be my Duracell bunny? honey, will you be my ******** par excellance? i see... no, you won't be. the museum of Greek sculpture was vandalised! guess what they took, the ****** fiendish crooks! with a wet splash of colour comes the cold marble artifice - a bit like the cool-mouth refrigerator of a woman during felatio... still don't know how she gets that gob down below room temperature. (heresy input, never start a sentence with an) and there you have it, writing, catering for abstractionism, just after he said: they're on a diet.

50

Hours of staying up, contemplating you missing me. Eyes crying blood all over the floor. My chest grew smaller, an engine room with the pressure vandalised and turned too high. Fuzzy vision and lungs not filling; not soaking themselves with air. I can’t breathe. Why is it so cold? Drunk on sadness; it permeates my skin making everything loose and intangible; my bedsheets become suffocating surf, rolling and crying and sick alone on misty rocks. The next step could be the cliff. I saw you with a another girl today How numbing it is to know you are definitely ok, More than fine, when all I crave is to know and see pain and misery bleeding from your wounds too. It isn’t selfish; because I need to know if you felt something. If you had felt anything as you delivered your sorry, goodbye. I need to know why I suddenly wasn’t enough. Maybe I gave too much to you, and you were’t ready for it. But maybe it was you. You pictured a future together, saying you had never felt this way before, about anyone; until you woke trembling, sweating one morning realising the cruel hoax your heart played on you; as a fool you listened. And as a fool you made me crawl along at your knees. As a fool you blindly made me ****** in the dirt for something that proved to me you loved me. Truly and deeply meant the promises you said. That the words which passed your lips were sacred, gospel and bathed in love. But you fooled yourself. And it was despicable for you to fool me. I saw you with another girl. How does it feel, wondering how I know and feel? Or do you believe I’ve forgotten you? Snap of the fingers, forged a new grove beside someone else on the waiting list. I’ve been with another man. Though you haven’t seen it. Perhaps even two. Come and go in the life you always knew. I don’t wish to hurt you, but moving on means I have to. I have to drive a knife beneath your skin and watch you contort in pain. Just like I did then.

0

Aug 3, 2016

Aug 3, 2016 at 8:29 AM UTC

tamara-fraser

I Saw You With Someone Else

Hours of staying up, contemplating you missing me. Eyes crying blood all over the floor. My chest grew smaller, an engine room with the pressure vandalised and turned too high. Fuzzy vision and lungs not filling; not soaking themselves with air. I can’t breathe. Why is it so cold? Drunk on sadness; it permeates my skin making everything loose and intangible; my bedsheets become suffocating surf, rolling and crying and sick alone on misty rocks. The next step could be the cliff. I saw you with a another girl today How numbing it is to know you are definitely ok, More than fine, when all I crave is to know and see pain and misery bleeding from your wounds too. It isn’t selfish; because I need to know if you felt something. If you had felt anything as you delivered your sorry, goodbye. I need to know why I suddenly wasn’t enough. Maybe I gave too much to you, and you were’t ready for it. But maybe it was you. You pictured a future together, saying you had never felt this way before, about anyone; until you woke trembling, sweating one morning realising the cruel hoax your heart played on you; as a fool you listened. And as a fool you made me crawl along at your knees. As a fool you blindly made me ****** in the dirt for something that proved to me you loved me. Truly and deeply meant the promises you said. That the words which passed your lips were sacred, gospel and bathed in love. But you fooled yourself. And it was despicable for you to fool me. I saw you with another girl. How does it feel, wondering how I know and feel? Or do you believe I’ve forgotten you? Snap of the fingers, forged a new grove beside someone else on the waiting list. I’ve been with another man. Though you haven’t seen it. Perhaps even two. Come and go in the life you always knew. I don’t wish to hurt you, but moving on means I have to. I have to drive a knife beneath your skin and watch you contort in pain. Just like I did then.

57

The writer's table is vacant. The Poet's papers fly amok. The Painter's brush is stuck in hardened paint.. Pictures have been pulled down and burnt with the fire of intolerance. Theatres have been vandalised and stages are silent, empty. The jobless critic looks for a prey, hence, there are fewer flies and mosquitoes The point has been proved You do we say, we say you do for our feet are sticky with squishy remains of pens and easels and words... No songs will be written, no tales told We live with fire, in fire, by fire What else can we do but burn? We equate Force with Peace, so, Don't ask - where are the Artists? The Artists are dead.

0

Jan 14, 2015

Jan 14, 2015 at 1:23 PM UTC

clare

Where are the Artists?

The writer's table is vacant. The Poet's papers fly amok. The Painter's brush is stuck in hardened paint.. Pictures have been pulled down and burnt with the fire of intolerance. Theatres have been vandalised and stages are silent, empty. The jobless critic looks for a prey, hence, there are fewer flies and mosquitoes The point has been proved You do we say, we say you do for our feet are sticky with squishy remains of pens and easels and words... No songs will be written, no tales told We live with fire, in fire, by fire What else can we do but burn? We equate Force with Peace, so, Don't ask - where are the Artists? The Artists are dead.

19

Great Shamrock specials walk around town with a sandwich board ringing a bell- if music be the food of love - PLAY BACK! Alex Pike Free Camping A half price indulgence now open plant identification skill for another wet weekend of cricket. "Hi, I'm Steve your carpet care man!" "Well the skies cleared and the game started, didn't look good early, but that is what happens in Dorrigo." Last week the Eastern Wall of the Catholic Church was vandalised. Chan's Chinese Resteraunt beyond the rainbow. Loving partner of Lance (Dec.) Aged 91 years. The complete lifestyle package. FREE!

0

Feb 20, 2014

Feb 20, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC

lysander-gray

Weekly Happenings

Great Shamrock specials walk around town with a sandwich board ringing a bell- if music be the food of love - PLAY BACK! Alex Pike Free Camping A half price indulgence now open plant identification skill for another wet weekend of cricket. "Hi, I'm Steve your carpet care man!" "Well the skies cleared and the game started, didn't look good early, but that is what happens in Dorrigo." Last week the Eastern Wall of the Catholic Church was vandalised. Chan's Chinese Resteraunt beyond the rainbow. Loving partner of Lance (Dec.) Aged 91 years. The complete lifestyle package. FREE!

18

The wind charm perched outside sitting still, No breath to move it, stagnant As if Rigor mortis Morbidity Death Had touched the air, inside he sat, Tears streaming from his reddened eyes, "Such beautiful music, The log fire burned intensely , inside were his branding irons, He had many in his holder, all sitting neatly, Stifled noise whimpered near by. "Time ages many things, many things, "But bone is a music that sings beautifully, The white metal was ripe for the flesh, as the Duck tape peeled slowly, then ripped As blood spots seeped from skin vandalised And he recorded every tone that sang forth, "You are A+ grade my, my, the music we will make, "Plunged into the torso slowly, Not wanting to not damage, that Delicate, Exquisite, Fusion Of bones that graced the air, Screams echoing throughout the cabin, Reverberating like a concerto on the senses. He puts his headphones on, and with blade Sharpened to its full potential, As if a conductor waving it through the air. With precision he cut, and recorded till silence fell. Flesh was limp on the floor unwanted, " Meat for the hounds I think, As the heart still, faint essence of life's beat clinging, Thrown to the awaiting dogs. "Eat your heart out, (He giggles smiling to himself) The bone now cleansed of life, Blood, Muscle, Marrow Expunged from the host, till hollow then Maliciously worn down to the tune of each, till The silence breathed out. Each one was unique, Having its own sound of death, I heard the gesture of breath upon my master piece Dangling, Swaying, Hanging Life taken but the voices sing out, I close my eyes and listen as wind kisses each hollow And the music of death sings out, each made from Only one never a mixture, as corrupted Would the sound get two souls jousting Over the voices expelled with winds gesturing them out. I sell these pieces to those enticed by deaths voice Hollowed out life, given purpose in silence I sit in my chair the brands all in there place. Tears form as the orchestra of screams scratch Deep within his soul, The wind speaks to those bones hanging outside.

0

Jul 31, 2015

Jul 31, 2015 at 8:12 AM UTC

poetic-t

The Bones Do Whisper Silent Voices

The wind charm perched outside sitting still, No breath to move it, stagnant As if Rigor mortis Morbidity Death Had touched the air, inside he sat, Tears streaming from his reddened eyes, "Such beautiful music, The log fire burned intensely , inside were his branding irons, He had many in his holder, all sitting neatly, Stifled noise whimpered near by. "Time ages many things, many things, "But bone is a music that sings beautifully, The white metal was ripe for the flesh, as the Duck tape peeled slowly, then ripped As blood spots seeped from skin vandalised And he recorded every tone that sang forth, "You are A+ grade my, my, the music we will make, "Plunged into the torso slowly, Not wanting to not damage, that Delicate, Exquisite, Fusion Of bones that graced the air, Screams echoing throughout the cabin, Reverberating like a concerto on the senses. He puts his headphones on, and with blade Sharpened to its full potential, As if a conductor waving it through the air. With precision he cut, and recorded till silence fell. Flesh was limp on the floor unwanted, " Meat for the hounds I think, As the heart still, faint essence of life's beat clinging, Thrown to the awaiting dogs. "Eat your heart out, (He giggles smiling to himself) The bone now cleansed of life, Blood, Muscle, Marrow Expunged from the host, till hollow then Maliciously worn down to the tune of each, till The silence breathed out. Each one was unique, Having its own sound of death, I heard the gesture of breath upon my master piece Dangling, Swaying, Hanging Life taken but the voices sing out, I close my eyes and listen as wind kisses each hollow And the music of death sings out, each made from Only one never a mixture, as corrupted Would the sound get two souls jousting Over the voices expelled with winds gesturing them out. I sell these pieces to those enticed by deaths voice Hollowed out life, given purpose in silence I sit in my chair the brands all in there place. Tears form as the orchestra of screams scratch Deep within his soul, The wind speaks to those bones hanging outside.

61

What’s this glaze over my eyes… A heavy mist with fingers… that lingers. A cataract that dives and claws into the black of irises. A film, a veil, a canvas botched and vandalised with arguing paints. And indelible black that sings of sadness, highlights the aches of dejection and screams betrayal.

0

Sep 27, 2023

Sep 27, 2023 at 9:36 AM UTC

ryn

Cataract

What’s this glaze over my eyes… A heavy mist with fingers… that lingers. A cataract that dives and claws into the black of irises. A film, a veil, a canvas botched and vandalised with arguing paints. And indelible black that sings of sadness, highlights the aches of dejection and screams betrayal.

20

imagine if our eyes reversed our lives in slow motion; endless sea sickness drowning in your succulent ocean, hoping for the potion to lead this sickeningly twisted endless devotion into an eternity of relentless corrosion imagine if clocks were non-existent time was an abyss, limited yet distant; home is where the heart is - i'm homeless and suffocating in your ****** fluoresce wallowing and distressed hallucinating and possessed homicide and loneliness i feel vandalised like a building, derelict abandoned with flowers growing faces like they're parodists i blink and free fall; i'm standing, five thousand trees tall you're crawling, can barely muster a squall and i'm soaring; ten thousand trees tall

0

Nov 25, 2014

Nov 25, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC

bonehouses

ten thousand trees tall

imagine if our eyes reversed our lives in slow motion; endless sea sickness drowning in your succulent ocean, hoping for the potion to lead this sickeningly twisted endless devotion into an eternity of relentless corrosion imagine if clocks were non-existent time was an abyss, limited yet distant; home is where the heart is - i'm homeless and suffocating in your ****** fluoresce wallowing and distressed hallucinating and possessed homicide and loneliness i feel vandalised like a building, derelict abandoned with flowers growing faces like they're parodists i blink and free fall; i'm standing, five thousand trees tall you're crawling, can barely muster a squall and i'm soaring; ten thousand trees tall

29

Visual chaos runs havoc in a weeping world, echoes of screaming pain in my bleeding words. The ocean is made from nothing but tears, a reflection of the fears we hold and self worth. The stars are slowly fading away into darkness, love is dying as everybody is becoming heartless. It seems evil is free to roam in every path, could we imagine exactly what the stars felt? We live our lives on hope; an article now lost, everything we ever once had is now gone. Faith and belief are becoming nothing but myths, and dead are now the dreams we had of bliss. My pen is hurting at the tip leaking drops of blood ink, silent screams I can hear synonymous to what i think. Truth has become what we feared as nightmares, and yet unaware we remain of what the shadow brings. I'm lyrically paralysed when they physically analyse, Individually agonised as my syllables detect paradise. We sit back as we watch the world being visibly vandalised, And how the seekers of truth are ridiculously patronised. The winds whisper the secrets of life we never found, The sins linger with the sight of hell and it's sound. We have lost this war against the creeping shadows, and are consumed by our thoughts and our doubts.

0

Feb 6, 2015

Feb 6, 2015 at 7:57 AM UTC

oguh-stanley

A BLEEDING WORLD

Visual chaos runs havoc in a weeping world, echoes of screaming pain in my bleeding words. The ocean is made from nothing but tears, a reflection of the fears we hold and self worth. The stars are slowly fading away into darkness, love is dying as everybody is becoming heartless. It seems evil is free to roam in every path, could we imagine exactly what the stars felt? We live our lives on hope; an article now lost, everything we ever once had is now gone. Faith and belief are becoming nothing but myths, and dead are now the dreams we had of bliss. My pen is hurting at the tip leaking drops of blood ink, silent screams I can hear synonymous to what i think. Truth has become what we feared as nightmares, and yet unaware we remain of what the shadow brings. I'm lyrically paralysed when they physically analyse, Individually agonised as my syllables detect paradise. We sit back as we watch the world being visibly vandalised, And how the seekers of truth are ridiculously patronised. The winds whisper the secrets of life we never found, The sins linger with the sight of hell and it's sound. We have lost this war against the creeping shadows, and are consumed by our thoughts and our doubts.

24

Society continually asks about relationships; How many you've had, how many you've faked. Society constantly asks about affection; Whether you've expressed affection or not. Society never asks how many times love lead to heartbreak; What you undeservedly deserved. Society never asks if you're okay; Whether you're living positively or whether you feel like just another brick in the wall, waiting to be vandalised and demolished.

0

Feb 24, 2018

Feb 24, 2018 at 3:22 PM UTC

calebpoetry

Vandalised Heart

Society continually asks about relationships; How many you've had, how many you've faked. Society constantly asks about affection; Whether you've expressed affection or not. Society never asks how many times love lead to heartbreak; What you undeservedly deserved. Society never asks if you're okay; Whether you're living positively or whether you feel like just another brick in the wall, waiting to be vandalised and demolished.

8

The glow of orange streetlights The neons, the stale greys, the ***** whites The many shades of skin I see Oh how I love the city A dreamer's den And sights to see The souvenir pens And skyscrapers so high you can't see the peak The mix of language The workers' plight The late night hours And the fear of heights All these one night stands All these broken hearts All these underground bands All the vandalised street art This concrete jungle This cement sea To where my heart belongs Despite the battles, we don't fight alone I love the city I love my home.

0

Feb 2, 2020

Feb 2, 2020 at 3:48 AM UTC

lunartales

The City

The glow of orange streetlights The neons, the stale greys, the ***** whites The many shades of skin I see Oh how I love the city A dreamer's den And sights to see The souvenir pens And skyscrapers so high you can't see the peak The mix of language The workers' plight The late night hours And the fear of heights All these one night stands All these broken hearts All these underground bands All the vandalised street art This concrete jungle This cement sea To where my heart belongs Despite the battles, we don't fight alone I love the city I love my home.

22

I've always been lost: In my thoughts, in actions; So it seems, a wanderer I've been. I've strayed no matter what be the cost, No matter what I face, endless prosecutions; More than meets the eye, I've seen. A conflagration in frost, Nothing more than a raging vexation, Of the extreme, nowhere in between; The words I've used, I've disgraced, Of no form, of no beauty, Such of that my carelessness; Such of the wrist vandalised, razed; As for the love turned pity; Such for resolves, spineless; As of the words, played, As the truth grow vague yet dainty; This is to the reality I digress.

0

Jun 28, 2018

Jun 28, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC

paene-vivit

Is To Err Human?

I've always been lost: In my thoughts, in actions; So it seems, a wanderer I've been. I've strayed no matter what be the cost, No matter what I face, endless prosecutions; More than meets the eye, I've seen. A conflagration in frost, Nothing more than a raging vexation, Of the extreme, nowhere in between; The words I've used, I've disgraced, Of no form, of no beauty, Such of that my carelessness; Such of the wrist vandalised, razed; As for the love turned pity; Such for resolves, spineless; As of the words, played, As the truth grow vague yet dainty; This is to the reality I digress.

18

I bid thee farewell the halls filled with various voices classrooms lacking ambition teachers who put everything into their work and those who don’t students I will never see again friends that won’t keep in touch stairwells drowning in secrets every vandalised desk every broken bathroom door it’s time to say goodbye a new highway has opened up I’m going to travel the world.

0

Nov 12, 2015

Nov 12, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC

undesxred

farewell

I bid thee farewell the halls filled with various voices classrooms lacking ambition teachers who put everything into their work and those who don’t students I will never see again friends that won’t keep in touch stairwells drowning in secrets every vandalised desk every broken bathroom door it’s time to say goodbye a new highway has opened up I’m going to travel the world.

13