"vindictiveness" poems
Social chaos metered out through tiers of population stung
By indiscriminate battle wrought lifeblood, incessantly, is wrung.
Why so the need for Assad’s torch, your Syria so needlessly debauched ?
Nameless causes fuel the fire, Shiite, Sunni intervention. Hezbollah and al Qaeda spew
Vindictiveness to streets of rubble, Toxic, killing vapours stew.
Misery to gasping children, horror in the dying eyes….
Condemnation points it’s staff to you, Assad, where vile blame now lies.
Why so the need for cities torched, Damascus needlessly debauched ?
Inevitably the missiles cometh, raining incandescent death and blast,
International righteousness throws intervention’s unknowns vast.
Why so this need for man debauched, Your Syria, once so beautiful, now scorched ?
Marshalg
Pukehana
7 September 2013
Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 4:47 PM UTC
She arrives in high stilletto’s
And a miniskirt so taught
That the boys are all distracted
And our job becomes a rort,
And the office girls get ******
And production spirals down
So then our new Middle Manager
Rolls up her sleeves and goes to town....
She sticks her oar in frequently
And stands with jutted hip,
She’s territorial dynamite
And serves us gloating lip.
She often curries favour
With Department Heads and such
And makes a fuss at our expense
Which irritates so much!
She has a way to circumvent
The types she will not face,
In using her authority
To snidely put them in their place.
Her manner is too sharp
And too dismissive for my taste
And the condescending smile
Has me grinding teeth to paste.
And the way she stands and taps her toe
And glares beneath her brows
Has the office juniors panicking
And avoiding, as allows.
There’s an issue over paper
And the telephone account
And the petty cash, though balanced,
Is a questionable amount.
Historically our working week
Has employed a give and take
With an easy flexibility
That allows us all a break,
But the new Middle Manager
Has reversed the mode of work
So that everyone competes
And the roster’s gone beserk!
Her manner’s often strident
With a whiplash to her voice
And the snarl of her vindictiveness
Leaves us all with little choice
But to bend our backs to labour,
Work our fingers to the bone
And suffer her till knock off
Then, thank God, we’re fleeing home!
There’s a memo in the “In box”
Rumour has it, from on high,
That due to overdue restructuring,
That some redundancies are nigh.
And though there’s great reluctance
And some measure of regret...
It seems our new Middle Manager
Has got her notice...Sorry Pet!
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
15 January 2011
Jan 14, 2011
Jan 14, 2011 at 4:38 PM UTC
I just despise you
you make me wish to spit nails
teeth drenched in venom
let me tear you apart
cold, unfeeling, callous
you make my anxiety reach a peak
so easy for you to dance on graves
dance, smiler dance!!!
know I lie in wait
for the day
that my vindictiveness can cut you to pieces
so easy to take the bloodied knife
and repeatedly jab at the lamb
sick and twisted must you be
feeling no remorse, no pain
dance on some more graves
let me put them in a pretty line
so that you may dance an eloquent dance
twisted
no way can such a taunt be held
if ever a thing was truly felt
and oh how angry does it make me
to feel this way, lying in pain
while you dance
on pretty little graves
such vapid spite
look for as many young lasses
as you might defile
spit in their faces
rip their hair out
gouge their eyes out
until they are no longer recognized
dance, dance away with every lady you touch
filling yourself to the brim
with empty emotions
until one day
you die alone and realize
you danced life away
while filling yourself with empty
******
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 11:03 PM UTC
Bitterness
"What an appropriate name," she thought
"for this foul feeling that tastes so akin to bile."
She ran her tongue along the ridges of her hard palate,
hoping that her saliva might creep into every crevice
and cleanse her being of this sharp vindictiveness -
Sour anger that left a trail of puncture-wound footprints across her shrinking heart
Equally corrosive and repulsive as it flowed through her bloodstream
She clenched her fists in an attempt to catch the feeling before it traveled another inch
As physical as it it felt - running through her, running over her -
she eventually came to understand that her ailment was far from physical
When she could no longer stand it, she fell to her knees
And prayed to a God in whom she'd never believed
The intellectual in her pushed Him away with embarrassment
The seven-year-old in her embraced Him like a dearly missed imaginary friend
An internal tug-of-war ensued, but was short lived
The vivacious strength of her young heart
Quickly lost to the tired feebleness of her old mind
She set aside her pride, calling out the suppressed longings of her soul
Much to her surprise, she felt an immediate loosening of ties
Weights lifted; beliefs shifted - everything seemed to fall into place
She let out the deep, deep breath she'd unknowingly held
And recognized a feeling of ease and serenity that had evaded her for months
She realized with a smile that she was grateful for the bile
For without its damage, she never would have met her healer
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 12:06 AM UTC
The Funny Man lies dormant
When the Dark Man come around
The Dark Man is oppressive
The Funny Man goes to ground
The Funny Man is hiding
From The Dark Man deep inside
The Funny Man can't beat him
The Funny Man has tried
The Funny Man's a rainmaker
Bringing laughter where it's not
The Dark Man is a monster
Full on vindictiveness and rot
The Funny Man is fragile
The Dark Man knows it's true
The Funny Man needs attention
The Dark Man needs it too
The Funny Man is worldly
But just what makes him laugh
The Funny Man is honored
When you get his autograph
The Dark Man needs no thank you's
The Dark Man has a goal
He will beat The Funny Man to a pulp
And The Dark Man gets his soul
The Funny Man is a fighter
He will give it his best try
But in the end The Dark Man takes control
And the Funny Man must die.....
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 12:12 AM UTC
The pain inside never stops it just becomes a comfort for a fool,
a a fool way down on his luck. A desensitized part of me that I get accustomed to, like a tattoo, or punching a brick wall, till the anger stops.
Sometimes it takes a day, sometimes its feels like an eternity,
I will never lose this pain that ways heavy on my heart, It has become a part of me, like a scar that still hurt me, or a demon tormenting me......
which sadly I have accepted and draw into my darkest depths of my scarred and scorned heart.
I’m not upset, but forever impartially saddened,
accepting it is a part of life that must exist,
to fulfill that which I was from higher functions;put to enlist.
At least that’s how it feels......
Why is it that this must be a part of me?
I always wanted to just have happiness and good Karma around me, but in a world where violence corruption, hate angst, vindictiveness,
negativity, depravity
and general loss of respecting another persons perspective of his own unique reality.
You have to learn to appreciate bad to be able to do the little good that you can, with the little good that’s left after you are tainted by the hate in this world,
from other people who try to make you suffer so that you seem a little more normal, like the other members of our wonderful hypocritical society.
When its not the rest of the world you generally interact with,
that’s crushing you down like a ten ton hammer on top of your naïve papier mache crown;
You have it from within, from your own ****** vessel inside!
With a whim so strong, it could lead you in a beat!, to start lamenting to a beautiful stranger your deepest - secrets, desires, wants and thoughts in a very badly written mating song.
All for what? wonders the reader of this terrible rant;
Well!, your in luck I’ll tell you and all it costs is your faith in lady luck.....
simply put – Just to know you did, rather than always wondered, even though in the end you knew way before hand that you were Fucked!....but your emotions empower you without care, and you think from your heart instead of your head, you go strong and true, to your melancholy demise into an infinite sadness……
that thing called love….
I Wish you a Bon Voyage!, you dumb struck, down on your luck, cupids tamohawk missile through your stubborn Heart; PUTZ……1 LOVE…..…..9-April-2012.
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 7:13 PM UTC
My lips are a battlefield
Chapped on the outside
They represent my inner demons
I cut through those lips of mine daily
When the stress makes it hard to focus
And my breath forgets to repeat itself
When the vindictiveness of my own words
Sews the bruises, and my stomach
Rests as it feeds on the blood my mouth is filled with
I know, vampires are usually beautiful people
But my lips always clash
They always tell the people who see me
"That girl, she's got something dark on the inside
She fuels herself with her brain's own chatter
And her teeth dig her grave inside those lips."
It's a cancer that spreads to the inside of my cheeks
My fingernails, my knuckles, the seams in my shirts
It doesn't just flutter through, it bulldozes
It's something hard and loud that makes you regret you ate that morning
That metallic taste will rot your soul
And turn your lips into a soulless brawl
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 2:10 PM UTC
Things in this world are too tangible
I see them all through the eyes
of a god of death; a date
writing itself on a small slip of paper
and pressing itself into my hand
love, I want to feel without consequence,
bruise the truth with my lies and let the blood
whisper "forever" beneath my skin.
I'm sick of this strain of terror
I never even knew hate until I was branded with it
you took your white-hot palm and placed it over my lips,
closed your eyes and recited the endless crimes
of a wanted criminal who wore my face
but whom I'd never known
and when the silence rotted, you turned your head
and wept as a victim.
You murderer. You examined me for scars
left me for dead without a heartbeat
named it "suicide" as an act of faith.
With indifference as a blade, you cut me
but the paper skin peeled back to nothing
and I demand no satisfaction, no pound of flesh;
in the future there will be no ghosts to mourn;
only the changed or the cruel will haunt us
And you, you are both,
demon of acclaimed justice, you rancor deity,
you who refutes any claim of vindictiveness
but feels "manipulation" as a sort of emotion
and understands "abandonment" to be a kind of justifiable punishment
for having dropped short of perfection
and come up instead as
merely human.
To forgive is divine.
We are failures of gods, you and I
Nov 9, 2011
Nov 9, 2011 at 12:02 AM UTC
Blithe spirits flow
How many times to be rebuked
By spirits low of jealous vindictiveness
Just because i strive to be myself
Unmasked of petty games
Is this the way of earthly life?
Why then my spirit defeated
My heart bends low and i no longer care
If life continues, i want to go
And welcome freedom of earthly death
When i had been brought
To break of earthly despair
This experience, the evenings first dim glow
A presence felt, implied
The only pressure, upon your head
Is the atmosphere above
I felt myself lifted to the universe i flowed
Oh joys to come
This is why i no longer wish to stay
Upon this crusty earth, this stepping stone
From worldly release i know my spirit will soar
To join with my others
Who know no games
And who are free.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 9:39 AM UTC
Hear me shriek and hear me scream
All you listen to my dream
Let me tell you what is right
Who to praise and who to fight
None that stray should stay alive
On your vindictiveness I thrive
Goddess of virtue for mercy pleads
Then with cruelty strikes her enemies
I am justice, you're depraved
Challenge me to dig your grave
Listen closely, believe my eyes
Not your own, they're telling lies
Up is evil, down is good
Strike them for me as you should
Hell laughs every time I cry
Those who disagree should die!
Sep 4, 2018
Sep 4, 2018 at 3:05 PM UTC
*I used to be vindictive
It tastes delicious
This is the only way to live
It was their fault to be malicious.*
Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 7:19 AM UTC
Why is life so pitiless
as to place you so near to me -
and yet so far?
The vindictiveness of the Gods –
Perhaps in a past life I was King Tantalos,
still deserving of the wrath only I can incur.
You stand before me like
Low hanging fruit – yet out of my reach.
Instead of taunting me with water
In this life the Gods are taunting me - with you.
It doesn’t matter how badly I yearn
To nibble your neck,
Feel your arms around me
Satiate myself with the warmth of your
laughter,
intelligence
your soul.
OH NO!
I can’t
touch you.
kiss you.
lick you.
I’m not the one scratching your back…
I can only watch
As you walk away with another.
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 8:16 AM UTC
i want a love that is pure & raw
i want a passion that is unattached & wild
i want a loyalty that is truthful & undoubted
i want a connection that is founded in friendship but retires in love
i want a partner that i can become a master of the universe with
and we will live above all the lies
and the jealous
and the vindictiveness
of modern relationships
we will live and love like the gods we were born to be
i want a life of romance and travel
of creation and expression
of being unraveled
and naked and bare
and be taken in
in all of my everythingness
& in all of my nothingness
without question or hesitation
just compassion sparked elation
i want to live in innocence by sun light
and in sin by star light
i want a love that's big enough to save the world
but not so big that i can't save myself
a love too deep to even fathom or understand or relay by words
but one that would never drown you
in need, attachment, obsession, or sacrifice
i want something i fear will never truly be
as more then just a figment of all my fantasies
i will wait and wander and meet all i can meet
and until i find the one i want, i'll be the one for me.
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 2:41 PM UTC