"virulence" poems
An exchange of temptations that led to a hidden ordeal
On an act of carnal ecstasy made to seal a deal
The gamble to see if it’s worth lending a piece of the soul
While trembling inside for the choices that would soon take toll
The signs of deceit slowly surfaced but were shrugged despite suspicion
Until a hasty flight provoked inner unrest and affliction
Vivid memories of a previous torment come back haunting
Knowing full well the Succubus affinity for betraying
With logic and reason as both weapon and armor
Against an enemy not easily made for capture
Bargaining on a final bet that her grip be brought to nothing
To release the mind from seemingly rotting
The bargain commenced along with foreseen treason
The sought peace only a hollow victory in a silently echoing frustration
In total silence with a feeling that heavily burned
A mental wall built to signify the lesson learned
Screams of pain of the innards locked away in reticence
Occurring to just seemingly mock the brilliance
With great resolve brought by the treachery writhing in virulence
Came the vigilance of avoiding such penitence
And to never again taste the Succubus’ Sting in Silence
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 9:09 PM UTC
The realtor came to me and tried to show me the house.
But from the time he met me, the meeting went south.
I stumbled on the steps, and hurt my bigger toe.
The porch looked like a residence for a male ******
The realtor told me that the first owner did not want to go.
I asked where he was, and the realtor said he’s buried six feet below.
But he made it a haunted house, because he said if I cant have it no one can.
I said that sounds crazy, and then the realtor said you haven’t even met the man.
I stepped inside the house, and immediately wished I did not go past the main deck
Because it did not look like a house, it looked like a bad trainwreck.
I said to the realtor that I was leaving, and he said to check out the upstairs.
But of the nature of the house I was caught completely unawares.
I walked up the steps, and instantly it made me regret my life choices.
I said I wanted to leave and the realtor said that you will offend the voices.
I asked what voices, and the realtor replied I have spoken too much.
I left the house in a hurry, and the realtor yelled that there was no rush.
I got to my home and quickly took a shower to wash away the experience.
Because I never went to a house that had such bad virulence.
Nov 3, 2017
Nov 3, 2017 at 5:36 PM UTC
A good place to start would be an introspective analysis of self, but what of the ramifications of objectified manifest? If evil is incarnate then what is the nature of corporeally preternatural? Can we save each other from the truisms of self we all embody, or do we all wallow in the pandemic phatic of our own fatidic as we seek augur's tout. My imagination tells me I can create a personification that has mystical properties but can this be functional garb or is it basically illusion. Can we touch each other, or even ourselves with these extrapolations? So many of us live by this platonic proxy photic aimed humanitarian instinct, maybe the reason we don't seem to succeed is because we need to be bad to be good. Further some of us are so bad that we obviously don't deserve to live but are those of us so inclined doomed to die of the ramifications thereof? And will this malady be a contagious virulence for all? Were it not for the astonishingly astounding and incredible nature of life itself I would almost be forced to abjure the nature of metaphysics on a corporeal level. Fortunately for me the answer is much more simple, I need someone to make love to, or **** if you will. I believe in retrospect this is obviously clear! Forgive my blither.
Oct 19, 2013
Oct 19, 2013 at 10:06 AM UTC
If only luck would up and show
fortune for the fortunately
clinging on,
those blessed with life
though impetus bent
for one toe only touching the floor
with a venomous claw
for virulence and love
both impediment to the **** we gnaw
if only luck would wind a boot
to the fortunately clinging on
those blessed with life only
danger dismissed with no teeth
fortune for the titanic maw
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 7:52 PM UTC
she emerged from the
small home
into the thick
late afternoon air
she could feel a storm
in the close
brewing just along
the tips of her
fingers
obscuring the horizon
looking up for a
while
she daydreamed of
happier things
like the way lightning
looks
in darkened shades
an arm around her
shoulder
& a glass of pink
champagne
a beating heart
within her head
but it all ends up with
rain instead
tell her tall tales
& she won't worry of
your height
unless you are the monster
she's been dreaming of
at night
Sep 24, 2012
Sep 24, 2012 at 6:56 PM UTC
In this land my poet lays,
Beside me now and then,
Where feelings meet,
My prince is dashing,
Moving fast, but always slow,
Crunching crashing,
Such impact,
Love collides!
Poets place their work with pride,
Feelings evicted from deep inside,
In love's perfect alliteration,
Escape to play in pastures new,
To share with many,
Or share with few,
Dragons slain in land of pain,
Again,
My poet fills my heart,
Endears me with his writes,
He is a mighty poet,
A duo of darlings,
Continually fighting to eternally write!
Kisses from a tranquil pen,
Contort with viral virulence,
Show darkness's in it's true intents,
In bright lights' revelations,
My poet,
He kisses me in person,
Now and then,
My heart and my soul intact,
For now!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 9:51 AM UTC
I promise
I won't ever break your heart again
Take advantage of your devotion
Razors up through my throat
the verses I sweetly lie through
secret smiles, my seething teeth vibrate
The weight of words in pixel and ink
May keep the cold truth freezing
The virulence hiding behind
what once were naive eyes
fed and sleeping in chains
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 5:19 AM UTC
A good place to start would be an introspective analysis of self, but what of the ramifications of objectified's manifest? If evil is incarnate then what is the nature of corporeally preternatural? Can we save each other from the truisms of self we all embody, or do we all wallow in the pandemic phatic of our own fatidic as we seek augur's tout. My imagination tells me I can create a personification that has mystical properties but can this be functional garb or is it basically illusion. Can we touch each other, or even ourselves with these extrapolations? So many of us live by this platonic proxy photic aimed humanitarian instinct, maybe the reason we don't seem to succeed is because we need to be bad to be good. Further some of us are so bad that we obviously don't deserve to live but are those of us so inclined doomed to die of the ramifications thereof? And will this malady be a contagious virulence for all? Were it not for the astonishingly astounding and incredible nature of life itself I would almost be forced to abjure the nature of metaphysics on a corporeal level. Fortunately for me the answer is much more simple, I need someone to make love to, or **** if you will. I believe in retrospect this is obviously clear! Forgive my blither.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:37 PM UTC
Slithering swiftly through swampy lands, Virulence dripping through ravenous fangs.
The muscle twitches ,the grippling pain,
every move seems in vain,
The more the twist , more profound the strain.
Scales cutting through the shien,
Jagged ,tangled and twisted herein,
Gigantic phyton of worries devours me from deep within
©Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Mar 6, 2019
Mar 6, 2019 at 3:57 AM UTC
the modern ills we face
all have ancient roots
back to one old Tree
a Tree of this and that..
from the Tree a virus spread
with special virulence now..
anxious ills and worry
fueled by this and that..
few seem to know
a medicine is extant
and really here closeby..
yet mysteriously hidden
alas..in our plain sight..
a preliminary dose
is a simple location..
to find a bit of this in that
and that in this..
a spoonful will send us
on our way..
a transforming surprise
an immunizing gift..
a gift when recognized
clothes armor to confront..
new dark incursions
of the virus we now name
the familiar this and that..
yet now we might be offered
a second dose
stronger than the first
a sudden recognition
there's really More than
this and that..
this special More that
we now swallow..
a More of special beauty
enclosing only gentle hints
of our former
this and that....
Jul 3, 2012
Jul 3, 2012 at 11:15 PM UTC
air pours alive in stringencies,
fall of tor and expanse.
mazy-eyed,
casts a syncopated hook
amongst tulips beheaded
by the toppling of a leaf
bracing for departures,
something else holds back,
furrow—
the thatched morning's serious mien,
the arrow, whirling in trajectories
one with the dive into red cauldron
of infinite scar of water,
Śiva, sighted footfall of the condor's
verdigris, this simple rustle
of your scourge-gowns
insists cadence of flutings;
i am one with beginnings.
swarming poultice of the inflamed grass,
obscene lines of shore in twilight
unfazed virulence spreads
like an epidemic of kisses against the
pulsing loam, cries like breakwater
lorn the fault of men, death at one's
trembling hand — sound the tribulation
of slender bells to a gather of pallors.
it is a stopping in-placeness
like crests of ******* a beautiful woman,
shiftless weight of light on glazed collarbone, Śiva, the enigmatical paradox
beleaguers a concatenation of
unloose chandeliers of appurtenances,
the unblinking aperture, widening in sky.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
Tonight, I feel lucky like I got Lamia at my side
Twilight will see justice and wrath meet
From virulence who could truly hide?
Tonight I ride in under the rain,
like under thin skin pushing blade
Anguish within replete in collecting like a memory
In time fully bleeding and reaping
A time limit on sun and moonlight
Tonight I ride in delivery
of thousands
hurting
for pain in payment
My mother was not right since the longest I recall
with the sickness to which you bound her, enthralled
For the daughters and the sons and for guardians who once
enjoyed their unity, who well beside themselves with grief
won't ever pray for harm
Tonight I ride lucky, Lamia,
as I collide
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 4:56 PM UTC
It's easy to get angry
and see the worst in
everyone & everything
isn't it?
No one is above the
bottom mounted
power supply
if one is
One likely bleeds money profusely
At the bottom pointing
fingers at the
portions of pie
passed around
Get your pitchfork
Get your rock
Get your virulence
Put your words to work
Put the words to terms
Put the terms to head
Blow the brains
Serve justice upon the lame
Serve justice upon the poor
Serve justice upon the tray
Of silver fear
With the money
Make guns
With the gun the
Money, make or break
With the money
Buy guns
With the gun ****
With your gun away
All these people fighting over
Fences and personal defenses
Look more and more like ants
On this elevator up
As the poverty line rises
The middle meets the bottom
Resources are scarce as it is
Now add to that the opulence
Wanting younger sibling of
The richest parts of a country
And you have two distinct groups
That don't understand how
The U.S. government works
That don't understand mass
Media conglomeration
That don't understand those
Two groups fight and also
Fight the churches for the
Remnants of our human soul
Earth is the perfect farm
Introduce a material form of power
Then put your bids on the board
Watch as the poor and the poor
****** each other for the right
To dive on coins
Left.
Right.
Up.
Down is where we're at.
Jul 3, 2018
Jul 3, 2018 at 10:30 AM UTC
**hear the trumpets,
Hear the bells,
Hear the drums,
Calling hell,
Feel the tears,
Feel the pain,
Feel the efforts,
Going vain,
Hear the shouts,
Here the kingdom,
Turn to dust,
Hear the rhythm,
With the old rust..**
*blooded land,
****** hands,
Blood river,
Running down the plains,
Skins bruised
Skins torn,
Bones broken,
Crushed marks..
No old,
No poor,
No young,
No riches,
Hear all tremble,
Go down again,
Violent rhythms,
Ring on again..*
Don't anyone see the black?
Don't anyone see the unseen?
Don't anyone call
To stop this war?
Stop the stinging,
Stop the blind,
Stop the virulence,
Don't you hear them cry?
Go go hide yourself,
'Coz you have no shame,
**hear the dead hearts still beating,
Stop the rhythm from playing,
Hear the cut hands still clapping at your foolishness,
You may have won the war,
But we have ended it,
It's your scream that gave me my victory..**
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 8:07 AM UTC
Left lost after love's deep virulence,
Leaving me in deep need of a metaphysical therapist.
Her heart harder than the blindness of erebus,
But the relationship was based off of panic trusts,
So forever until never it was, a manic driven worldless wonderlust.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 11:01 AM UTC
by the book and by the blade
by all that lies under the shade
I traverse along with my phantasms across the worldly glades
I ****** my sword into the earth
and stand firm against this turbulence
inspired by virulence my phantasms
guise over me
this is a rift in reality
you may call it an abnormality
by the book and by the blade
by the lustful mermaid
you hold no sway over my heart
for I have built a barricade
I see through your facade
you malevolent with lust
I feel nothing but disgust
by the book and by the blade
by those who renegade
fatal is your deed
wicked is your breed
you have no time to save
the crimson reaper is at your grave
bad blood runs through my veins
this dire world is veiled by rain
hanging onto despair, bound by chains
I grow weary of the flames lurking within
the haziness I live in
morbid I grow by the day
morbid I grow by the night
you may call it madness
I call it darkness
-
Oct 13, 2017
Oct 13, 2017 at 4:13 PM UTC
Came from
someone once
addicted to attention
I sit in cellars now with hooked
replacement hands from when
I tried to reach
toward the same
end as my creator
It sure is lonely here.
I reach to wipe my eyes
of tears I thought beyond me
to tear the crystals out
with talon pressed and pointed
Came from
someone once
addicted to delusion
In fact she kept
her throne of chaos intact
Until the day
she died malignant
with her virulence she sat
And so my throat
spits the voice of dissent
else I repeat the same
How do I
raise the volume though
so rebels travel my way?
Enough of us
dumb enough
to forfeit
the little we hold
for the objective good
the mass is
scared to death to
once again acknowledge
May 13, 2018
May 13, 2018 at 12:34 AM UTC
Blacker than the Ace of Spades
Where virulence, in spiteful, ways.
Where tumult in the Crown of Thorns
Upon his bleeding head, adorns.
Runs blacker than the pitch of night
In league with avarice and spite.
Though earthworms in dark caverns writhe
Whilst ***** in ****** shadows, lithe,
Paint black, the shade in Heaven's Gate.....
Assuredly, the hue of Hate!
M.
Mar 27, 2024
Mar 27, 2024 at 4:46 AM UTC
Tears rain, Heaven cries
Men in ghostly array
How celestial dew turn bitter!
What is to come a dismay
Earthly decadence, Withering opulence
Mammal to earthly disorder
How providence turns virulence!!
Untold tale of “no escape” parable
Tears reign, Heaven’s turmoil
Assembly of beings on cross
How the haven to hell subscribe!!!
Home affords no salvation
Hellish magnificence, Exalted tumble
All beings of chaotic order era
Men of hailstorm and fiery delight
Shall destruction be a rhyme.
Dec 11, 2024
Dec 11, 2024 at 2:47 PM UTC
As if I could ever understand pain
I carry symptoms truncated at the head
Their blue feverish reminders never dead
Emotions of your bright autumn nights
Replay in my head like no other
I lost you, my best friend, my lover
Truth blossoms like a ****** rose
My stomach curdles when I find
A love that was not dead but blind
Bludgeon me across the face
So that I may awaken in delight
Finding you in the twilight
If I can't face the mirror anymore
And my gold paper skin turns fair
I will know that our love was rare
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 10:29 PM UTC
as we go surely confident through
the words coursing like platelets
filled with oxygen and iron
into the open turn red turn flowing
denying death with our tourniquets
of bandaged words our mangled verbs
stopping that flow flowing on
for one last second to call
out our virulence as the light dims
our strength ebbs
and our calls echo
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 7:19 PM UTC
if I'm being honest, it was with virulence.
what did i do to myself that may have
caused the relationship to change?
well, she stopped doing.
most things.
well, what did i stop doing?
and did i stop doing?
i can't expect many things to make
any sense at all as a ******
Sep 13, 2019
Sep 13, 2019 at 2:13 AM UTC
i am grateful you
didn't know the fissures
that seized our ancient kingdom
our two atop the marriage mount.
there were many reasons
for the fault, of course, many players
whispering at court, chipping the stone, but i have
an imperceptible bias for these things
and flatteries of lesser pawns
that played on vanity and power and prowess—
the virulence kings—were nails and nail and nails
that cracked the stone on which we sat.
who knows what fossils can be made of shards of us?
Sep 16, 2018
Sep 16, 2018 at 12:45 PM UTC
Il est de forts parfums pour qui toute matière
Est poreuse. On dirait qu'ils pénètrent le verre.
En ouvrant un coffret venu de l'Orient
Dont la serrure grince et rechigne en criant,
Ou dans une maison déserte quelque armoire
Pleine de l'âcre odeur des temps, poudreuse et noire,
Parfois on trouve un vieux flacon qui se souvient,
D'où jaillit toute vive une âme qui revient.
Mille pensers dormaient, chrysalides funèbres,
Frémissant doucement dans les lourdes ténèbres,
Qui dégagent leur aile et prennent leur essor,
Teintés d'azur, glacés de rose, lamés d'or.
Voilà le souvenir enivrant qui voltige
Dans l'air troublé ; les yeux se ferment ; le Vertige
Saisit l'âme vaincue et la pousse à deux mains
Vers un gouffre obscurci de miasmes humains ;
Il la terrasse au bord d'un gouffre séculaire,
Où, Lazare odorant déchirant son suaire,
Se meut dans son réveil le cadavre spectral
D'un vieil amour ranci, charmant et sépulcral.
Ainsi, quand je serai perdu dans la mémoire
Des hommes, dans le coin d'une sinistre armoire
Quand on m'aura jeté, vieux flacon désolé,
Décrépit, poudreux, sale, abject, visqueux, fêlé,
Je serai ton cercueil, aimable pestilence !
Le témoin de ta force et de ta virulence,
Cher poison préparé par les anges ! Liqueur
Qui me ronge, ô la vie et la mort de mon cœur !
368
A good place to start would be an introspective analysis of self, but what of the ramifications of objectified's manifest? If evil is incarnate then what is the nature of corporeally preternatural? Can we save each other from the truisms of self we all embody, or do we all wallow in the pandemic phatic of our own fatidic as we seek augur's tout. My imagination tells me I can create a personification that has mystical properties but can this be functional garb or is it basically illusion. Can we touch each other, or even ourselves with these extrapolations? So many of us live by this platonic proxy photic aimed humanitarian instinct, maybe the reason we don't seem to succeed is because we need to be bad to be good. Further some of us are so bad that we obviously don't deserve to live but are those of us so inclined doomed to die of the ramifications thereof? And will this malady be a contagious virulence for all? Were it not for the astonishingly astounding and incredible nature of life itself I would almost be forced to abjure the nature of metaphysics on a corporeal level. Fortunately for me the answer is much more simple, I need someone to make love to, or **** if you will. I believe in retrospect this is obviously clear! Forgive my blither.
Apr 23, 2024
Apr 23, 2024 at 10:28 PM UTC