"vilest" poems
Hunched, gorging on the pain of others
Innocents, betrayed by acts so like your own
For what? Some twisted pleasure?
Denial? Or simply masquerade?
Foul incubus, disguised by pilfered light
An electronic reinvention of your tale
Wallowing, greedily perusing torment caused by proxies
Judas! Betrayer of the Light!
You'll be unmasked
And truth laid bare for all to see
Jul 23, 2015
Jul 23, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
I think
My tolerance for ********
Has reached its breaking point.
Now I spend my lunch hours
Squirreled away in the smoking room
Lost in tunes
Locked in with my thoughts
Scarfing down
One cigarette after another
And writing these ****** poems.
I don't care to hear
About the inanities of your sad lives.
It's all so bleak.
I feel most alone in a crowd.
I suppose
We all have our ways
Of coping
With the affliction of life.
Many seek refuge
In the mindless chatter of sheep
Others find their release
Balls-deep in a wet hole
Or tasting blood and sweat
In the boxing ring
Or the warm, comforting embrace
Of alcohol.
Such blissful escape, all of them.
So what's wrong
With the hallowed cloisters
Of my mind?
**** the lot of you
With your petty dramas
******* hypocrisies
******* noises
Summoning up
The vilest contempt
Slumbering in me.
I am enough.
May 12, 2014
May 12, 2014 at 1:08 AM UTC
Cupid the Roman god of love,
flew down like a dove.
Striking arrows to bring people together,
hoping the love lasts forever.
Son of Venus and Mars,
pictures portray him surrounded by hearts.
His name means desire,
he likes to set hearts on fire.
His mother was the jealous kind,
I women better than her, she did find.
She ordered cupid to find her a man,
but evil was her plan.
She told cupid to choose the vilest man,
to take this women's hand.
As cupid sat on the edge of the girl's bed,
he scratched himself with his arrow head.
He couldn't help but fall for the girl,
his mother was set on sending to hell.
He would visit her each and every night,
telling she could never catch a sight.
Two evil sisters she had,
who told her this guy was bad,
so one night she couldn't help but look,
cupid didn't take this well, and off he took.
She searched the world for him,
and didn't stop til Jupitar stepped in.
He gave her immortality,
so she could make her love for cupid reality.
Now they live happy together,
with their daughter voluptas forever.
Cupid and his wife Psyche,
flew off into the night.
Feb 14, 2015
Feb 14, 2015 at 4:00 AM UTC
The legere sacristy of pure love blazing
Feline confluence across ethereal plains
Arched angelic collusion of things sepulchral
The arcane occidere travisty of
Transmogrification canonized
Darkling eminence ordained;
The verity aura of radiance
Twilights tidal blood- dye magenta,
Germane sleek meagre wealth chiming lo!.
Finitudes golden prayer draping flounded
Brutality tithing the zenith with mealy
Doer aptitude majestically turbulent
Sacrificing thoriums weld feudal
Of heavens deceitful soothsayers,
Fellow djinn of Gotterdammerung
Soli of vilest stoic jingoism.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 7:07 AM UTC
When I will embrace your chest by my chest at that time
You will comprehend how mature my love is
How lukewarm it is
When my lips dancing up and down will utter the word “love”
You will realize lips that never lie
How many drops of rainwater can make you soggy?
My one stroke of lip kiss can do more than that…
When you become the subject of my poem
My pen starts to dance like a new born baby does seeing his mother
My page is never touched by the vilest caterpillars
When they come to do the sting they find you are laughing in my poems………
Feb 12, 2013
Feb 12, 2013 at 4:34 PM UTC
No longer mourn for me when I am dead
Than you shall hear the surly sullen bell
Give warning to the world that I am fled
From this vile world with vilest worms to dwell.
Nay if you read this line, remember not
The hand that writ it, for I love you so
That I in your sweet thoughts would be forgot
If thinking on me then should make you woe.
O, if, I say, you look upon this verse,
When I perhaps compounded am with clay,
Do not so much as my poor name rehearse,
But let your love even with my life decay,
Lest the wise world should look into your moan
And mock you with me after I am gone.
1.5k
He opened the binding of The Weeping Book
curiousity piqued, he needed to look
but how he wished he had never seen
the horrors therein that were so obscene.
The guilt of man along the passage of time
senseless slaughter without reason or rhyme
each page he turned ill had been done
by book possessed he ventured on.
The **** and pillage of those years before
children the victims of violent war
races were mixed, the one good thing
vicious hecklers of bigotry sing.
On and on through the pages now
the hurt caused pain behind his brow
saints and sinners all listed here
their sins for all to see quite clear.
He saw the vilest sins of history's pain
enslavement of those for other's gain
let loose man's done some terrible things
hope's voice is quelled by vicious stings.
The Weeping Book so perfect in name
from front to end it's full of shame
and he a priest of noble birth
would find before day's end, his worth.
No water passed his lips, nor food
his mind so troubled by soured mood
and then the page on which he gazed
revealed the future of a man gone crazed.
No change could he make to the book
transfixed at his poor fate he'd look
and as he pushed the dagger deep
as fate revealed he went to sleep.
The Weeping Book then slammed tight shut
till guilty man next came and put
his hand upon the tome's dark cover
then his sad fate he'd soon discover.
©Joe Wilson – The Weeping Book…2014
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:36 PM UTC
the only thing worse than
being looked at with disgust
is melting into the walls
and not being looked at
at all
you know you shouldn't wish for
the perverts at the bar to eat you up
their spider eyes crawling all over you
leaving a slime trail on your most
sensitive bits
but it feels so empty and cold
to be nursing a ***** slime
your lipstick and hair crying out
for even the vilest of men
and all you get is a
heyisyourfriendsingle?
i am transparent
i am unnoticed
i am baby hiding in the corner
but there's no one around to care
do whatever it takes to be that girl
drink too much baby duck
paint your eyes cotton candy
sharpen your nails into talons
but this only washes you out more
like an old rag hung to dry for eternity
when the maid has bought newer ones
more efficient/
prettier with bigger *****
you might as well jump through the cracks
before you get kicked down there anyways.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 4:17 AM UTC
For a friend I wish, but one with a heart pure
For my heart was burned, more than a time or two
A wall I ***** for my safety it must not fall!
Strong and sturdy I build, firmly planted in the ground
The vilest of creatures it must hold back
Near my gate you come, not expecting this village houses one
With eyes you look in, but the curtain is drawn and you see not deep within
Lest you see my weakness and with that attack
My arms I extend: Don’t get too close, stay beyond the end!
My palms I hold out, you must know that I’m afraid
Those who came before stabbed me in the side, and because of this now I hide
A friend I have not found, perhaps to trust I am now unable
For my trust was betrayed, more than a time or two
Apr 26, 2017
Apr 26, 2017 at 12:24 PM UTC
I compose
right cheek on pillow
cool eye towards the morning
the greatest poem
ever
but
the words vanish
and I cannot not bring them back
so
I pick up my phone
TAP TAP the vilest thing I can imagine
send it out to the world
where
O
so many
throw their
***
against it.
Oct 11, 2017
Oct 11, 2017 at 4:51 AM UTC
On this long, drawn out journey from the vilest of things to the sweetest smell of flowers that linger upon the air. My journey wasn't alone I came with a sister; we walked so much I had a blister. Along comes a bus and we're off and sitting with the discussion of things. So down to the beach we went. I could feel your wonder so as my feet hit the sand. We were truly in another land.
A place of beauty alive with awe just for you. I soon found myself saying Take a long look; the flowers are for you my sister to aide in your heart felt plea for others. I traveled far and wide to the land where starfish hide, purple in color. I ask a local surfer girl to intercede for our brothers.
I gave you a skin with strings, complete with gifts and things. We asked her to ride out for the best wave of her life to release our plea at 403 at four points west, she did her utmost best.
We stood in the sand with living waters as we watched god paint the most impossible of things. The sunset so pure for those that received pure fresh air at a moment’s glance. My heart began to draw near and dance.
Out of the mouth of babes was pure joy to have saved the rest was the part I liked best. My feet glued to the sand I knew you sent god for man, one to walk hand in hand.
I've smiled so big that it uncovered the diamond from within the shark’s teeth as the dolphins went crazy. I knew what just landed, it's locked until time.
When the hour is near I'll be on time but if I'm not, please grab me so I can sit at the bridegrooms table inside of Jerusalem without a spot.
A feast of time, sentient beings, bring found favor in our hearts to save us from ourselves and let each others army live together all in one house.
Through the power of belief and ascension comes a man's redemption, through the house of David comes a silver thread of family ties.
The daughter of Moses, a true sister of Zion, a mother of love and a child of god all within four points west.
Nov 13, 2010
Nov 13, 2010 at 4:52 AM UTC
They said they couldn’t **** another
a man a soldier might call a brother
but clearing death from sodden trenches
repairing trucks with rusty wrenches.
These men did their bit too.
Many a shot mowed these men down
in trenches filled with awful sound
they fell and died, their blood as red
and in the end were still as dead.
These men did their bit too.
Some men can’t fight no matter what
so other work was what they got
and midst the cordite battle smell
they picked dead comrades as they fell.
These men did their bit too.
Four long years the battles raged
by Armistice young men had aged
so many young men had sadly died
pacifist stretcher men by their side.
These men did their bit too.
Pacifists choose simply not to ****
Clearing bodies became their great skill
patching up wounded and moving them back
under the vilest of mortar attack.
These men did their bit too.
Soldiers died that we might live
reconcile now and forgive
peaceful men did also die
honour them too where they do lie.
These men did their bit too.
©Joe Wilson – They also served… 2014
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
Why is it, that the vilest of temptations
seek to violate my mind, during moments…
of weakness, solitude and prayer time?
Is it not enough that my inner person
has been consumed with the filth of my flesh?
How much longer must I wait for the body
of incorruption that will suit me in eternity?
Though I can’t seem to stop sinning,
is it wrong to want to curb its unwanted flow?
These temptations appeal to my carnality,
but I find their continuing stream tiresome.
Spiritual perfection is an ideal, that cannot…
be achieved in today’s earthly journey.
And yet, to utterly give up and intentionally sin,
will never be an improvement of my fallen condition.
How much training is required to reject ungodliness?
O, Lord, please strengthen my spirit to capture
and discard these thought contaminations…
by making my flesh permanently dead to their allure
and by always drawing me ever closer to You!
Author Notes:
Loosely based on:
Rom 3:23; *** 2:11-14; Col 3:1-11
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2012, All rights reserved.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 10:57 AM UTC
Help, Lord; for the godly has ceased in me;
For the faithful frail part of me has died
And this world’s corruption eats at my Will
My Will to Love, my tongue that’s silent
Our lips are our own: but where is my Divinity?
It does not reach for the stars
But is hidden in the shadow of my errors
I am oppressed by myself, my bad habits
And while I sigh for the needy, I am powerless
To help, to redeem this fate
The Words of the Lord of Love are pure
But purified now I am not, I am lost
Help, Lord; for the humble and the meek
Need a new kind of energy, strength, hope
When the vilest men are exalted, the most compassionate
Suffer the unbearable isolation of poverty
How long wilt thou forget me, Lord of Love?
How long wilt thou hide thy face from me?
I have been looking for you everywhere
In everyone, but only see glimmers now
Having sorrow in my heart daily
Consider and hear me, O Lord my cherished God.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 10:30 PM UTC
When days pass in slow succession,
And the comings and goings are all repetition,
My mind wanders aimlessly to
All the days I had in a bygone youth.
How my sisters and I were mischief incarnate,
How the vilest words we uttered were **** it!”
How the world seemed bigger when we were small
And how I believed I had a chance at it all.
Friends who came, went and never left.
Beloved pets whose death made us bereft.
Homes we helped to build with our own hands.
Times when we dwelt in far away lands.
But there is always a catch in the back of my throat;
A wish that my thoughts could fully quote
A man whose poem is so finely crafted,
I’m convinced it was never once redrafted.
For it catches by its words in near perfection
The very soundtrack to all this: my reflection.
This particular poem is quiet and mellow;
It was written by a Mr Henry Longfellow.
I write it now for you below
That you may enjoy its beauty also.
“The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
And the day is dark and dreary.
My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
It rains,and the wind is never weary;
My thoughts still cling to the mouldering past,
But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
And the days are dark and dreary.
Be still, sad heart, and cease repining;
Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
Thy fate is the common fate of all,
Into each life some rain must fall,
Some days must be dark and dreary.”
Jul 28, 2010
Jul 28, 2010 at 1:46 PM UTC
Two o'clock in the morning
and again I can't sleep
my IPod's playin' the internet's callin'
I wanna indulge, I wanna just weep
when you can play out your fantasies
of sordid lust and rough *** through
a video player on your phone, all on your own
or get the real thing with a text
midnight conversations of the perverse kind
desperate ***** hookers whispering in your ear,
Tommy Gunn licks Rosie's behind as she
burns your libido with that naughty sumptuous leer
as a teenager it was fun, apparently normal
but you know it's become a problem when
you're calling lights-out at twelve
but falling asleep at two-thirty AM
once you had to pay, now it's free,
festering in the crevices of the Web
swollen, bloated and growing
from its dank hiding place it begins to ebb
a drug manufactured from
the vilest sins of the mind
prefabricated drool, a vice blackened and cruel
forbidden but not exactly hard to find
---
now here I lie
my flesh blistered and rubbed raw
fat tears run down my face
but not knowin' what it is I'm crying for.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 8:45 AM UTC
Imprison me
For I had performed some vilest sin
Not burn this rapacious body
but gulp every last piece
and **** over your kempt mouth
And not incarcerate my soul
You vow me this
I beseech you lord
keep my soul in such a state
that even among the ****** of all the goddess it will not be able to touch the thirst within .
Aug 28, 2017
Aug 28, 2017 at 6:20 AM UTC
miming whispers in the dark
as we speak into each other's hearts
and wait for hours for day to break
with all the promises it hides away
clutching hands and holding close
the only comfort that we know
looking fearful at the sky
we pound our ******* demanding why
the hurt and sorrow that we feel
can only hide from us the real
i feel your breath upon my face
its warmth gives life to dwindling faith
i need your arms to stay around me
stronger than the vilest army
protecting me from despairing darts
that sneak into unsuspecting hearts
if only for another night
between us we'll keep up the fight
never letting fall the pieces
of our broken heart diseases
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 5:41 AM UTC
Everything is ice. Everything is ice
The barbwires frozen and the ephedra vines are white
But the snow melts on my nose
And your hands are cold
And the kiss is over nothing left but the spit
The rings been worn
It hurts that the vegetables rotted in that cellar.
The gowns been starched and the freezer just tightens it
Onions ruined cabbage dead
Carrots putrid
And the vilest
You've ever seen
It looks like starry night
I followed you into the mesquite when the shinry oak calls my name. I'm dragged to the deep by my tongue when the thing I needs a brain
Cut into two hemispheres a naval orange into
A ****** mess of sticky stuff
Nourished by the juice
I should have froze you too
I should have froze in the ice lake
Then melted once the blizzards done but I've seemed to made a mistake.
Bleeding in the snow I clench my fist and chest
Wrenching all my guts last glory
Death falling on fleur de lis
You're my flower with withered petals cold dead blue.
Mar 3, 2014
Mar 3, 2014 at 12:10 AM UTC
I am the pusher, the user, the drunkard laid upon the floor;
I am the ***** the ********** the refuse knockin' at your door;
I am the working man, poor man, the child starving in the night;
I am the sick, the diseased, the dying from an unknown plight...
I am the albatross around your neck,
The nightmare that will never go away;
I am the life of promise become a wreck,
The horror of creation, ever here to stay.
I am the ****** heartless killer, the thief in the dark;
I am the demon, the beast, stamped with the mark;
I am the singer, the binger, the beloved movie star;
I am the doctor, lawyer, the friendless man at the bar;
I am your brightest dream that faded away,
All of your hopes and prayers for a better day;
I am the inescapable truth of life in this world,
The vilest evil, what makes the blood run cold.
And what will you do with me, saddled as you are ~
Such a troublesome burden, and creation's scar?
Will you throw me away and simply let me be,
When you realize that I am you and you are me?
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 10:38 AM UTC
****** is such an ugly word and yet the black community keeps this word going.
Black comedians use it; people call each other this, almost like a badge of honor.
Yet when a white person uses it becomes the vilest insult.
Make the word go away, along with ***** ** and other derogatory terms.
The black race needs to treat each other with respect if they want everyone else to do the same.
A white teenager hears this and thinks that this is the way to talk to blacks.
They hear the Rap songs referring to blacks this way, then why should they not use the same terms?
How many times do you see white people calling each other names?
How can we learn to call each other friend, neighbor or fellow American’s if we put each other down?
This country needs to learn not only to respect other races but their own race too
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 12:37 PM UTC
is quite different from which I imagined her to be.
A little unorthodox, her grey lines pile up and the path chosen for me
even holds a touch of colour. The red seeping from the pebbles
becomes a rather dangerous flood. I had never believed she might use blood when the dice I had rolled landed on a double six. To most, it would seem her sense of luck is sick. Now, poor Lady Luck has been addressed most rudely with the vilest names by those who claim her to have switched with a wicked cousin. The have linked her name with Curse, Misfortune, even Hopelessness at times, oft because their eyes have dulled and they insist on the sun to shine. Ignored on the days of mist, I wouldn't blame her should she leave. For most of the used disclaim her aid if the Lady comes not with ease.
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
Eli had no reason to hang around
while the band shaved their skulls
& went full-tilt Nihilism, singing
about nothing at all. Normally
immune to Strychnine, Jane was
spontaneously bleeding from the
face; seeing his opportunity, Ivan
pulled her onto the stage.
Thereupon the crowd erupted in
furious moshing;
The Band revisited DEAD POWER,
played Brutal Church & songs from
the ***** Tour, encore after encore
while Jane was brought to the Hosp.
Knowing Eli Simple was a known
collaborator with the riotous band,
the Russian Police, informed that Eli
had flown to Montenegro, the police
tried to extort a bribe from the
feckless poet-musicians; It was Ivan
who suggested a Benefit Concert for
the police. Of course, everyone
agreed. Instead of shutting the band
down they were plugged into the City's
power grid & blacked out Eurasia ...
The morning sun returning sleepily
to the gilded old city, no arrests had
been reported the entire night; all brawls
broken out in the spirit of jocular fun,
black eyes & bruises notwithstanding.
Jane was the talk of the town: "Like an
American Horror Movie!" they said.
Chuckie's stick figure had been fitted
into a red bikini & she sat smiling,
tanked up on coffee in the day room.
Eli handed her his glass of whisky &
lita cigarette. The head housekeeper
also greeted the man of the house
with a hearty smile; "Oh, MIster
Simple, I am so happy you brought
home Miss Arzhaiana. My gransparants
are Chukchi." The newlyweds took
turns drinking from the glass.
Chuckie was already thirsty & Eli
inevitably bored. The News was filled
with multiple contradictory reports
of the St. Petersburg Policeman's
Benevolence Society Fundraiser,
which raised no money but the city's
overall morale was greatly improved.
Every citizen had an unflinching
grin on their face, as if overnight
they'd been purged of the vilest
demons of their country's centuries
of violent repression & persecution.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 10:02 PM UTC