"vitriolic" poems
Greetings audience.
I am off my medication now and I am feeling vastly better. Something just cleared my conscious and vascular blockage so joyously. I will not be posting videos due to my camera and devices breaking. No diatribes nor any vitriolic comments were conferred during my time gone throughout my family and my peers, assuming that is the reason I am now healthy (dropping toxic ties). Unluckily, all of my social media was hacked. Refrain from following anything linked with my name. Indeed, I am not here to bloviate, rather to celebrate. Thank you for your cooperation. I will now go play childishly. Farewell. : )
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
People say they want to try
to fix the World's problems,
yet few do more than simply imply
that the Symptoms are the problem;
We need to stop simply treating Symptoms
and begin again to seek the Source;
only then can we begin to progress
and begin again to Harmonize.
But they don't really want that;
you see, they like the World's problems:
Perhaps they see it as Vindication
for propagating their vitriolic Dogmas.
Perhaps they seek to seize control
of Earth and her Inhabitants,
or perhaps they seek to establish
lucrative business contracts.
In any case, it seems to me to be the case
that they'd have stopped some problems, just in case;
that is, if the case was that they truly and earnestly sought to:
The World's Problems ensure future Business
for the Military-Industrial Complex.
The World's Problems enure future Business
for the Pharmaceutical-Industrial Complex.
The World's Problems ensure future Business
for the Disedification-Industrial Complex.
The World's Problems ensure future Business
for Banks, Demagogues, Tyrants, Corporations and Thieves
(sometimes all are one in the same!)
-
We need to stop dwelling upon the Symptoms
and do something about the ******* Source;
It's about time we, as Humans, stood up to this; our Wretched System,
for precisely the same ideals it so facetiously claims:
Justice, Equality,
Freedom, Liberty,
Tranquility, Solidarity,
Opportunity, Prosperity;
We have strayed.
We have been betrayed.
We are being played:
We should be ******* irate.
Irate, and yet Calm.
Non-violent, yet resisting:
Civil Disobedience is a Virtue
in a World such as This.
Civil Disobedience is a Symptom
of a World such as This.
Jun 26, 2013
Jun 26, 2013 at 10:01 PM UTC
Symmetry, balance-
Perfection.
It is possible.
You have to know how to blend.
Shade the yin with the yang.
Redefine---------------------------------------------
Never say the curse.
Politeness...
You must know the truth.
Mix the knowing with pretend.
Now, choose your words well.
They listen.
The light from the screen
Pulls the dark
From within my mind.
It asks me what's on my mind.
If only you knew...
I type lies.
Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.
Lies. Lies. Lies.
LIES. LIES. LIES. LIES. LIES. LIES. LIES.
Because they don't want the truth.
You don't want the truth.
I need lies.
I can't be myself.
I am sin.
Worse than that, I'm wrong.
I can't ever change my mind,
Because there it is,
Forever.
I show what you crave-
Perfection.
It's all tremendous.
This life full of happiness.
No gray, only white.
For your eyes.
When I power down,
I'm weeping.
Tears of confusion.
Tears of impotence and rage,
Because I know - Truth.
Perfection.
Each day, I fear death.
Wish for it.
Each day reminding,
I take a shot for sugar
Because I was weak.
Misguided.
Each day, I am weak.
I pretend.
I want to lash out.
Want the world to feel my pain.
But I don't do it.
I love you.
What is on my mind?
Hate, anger/
No one really cares.
If I die tonight, who cares?
The world keeps spinning,
Deletion.
Programming to cope,
Coded hope-
Trust we'll meet again.
But I'll be in the ground soon.
Fed on by the worms.
No more words.
So I stay hidden.
Sit with the truth
That I am pointless.
All of this is just pointless.
Symmetry of good
And evil.
I'll be what you want.
To save you.
I've figured it out.
Perfect in isolation.
I'll stay here and wait
For the void.
Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies. Lies.
Even more-----
I don't really love.
I don't have true empathy.
No, those are all LIES!
No, I choose.
Can you see me now?
Do you know?
My eyes are of fire.
My thoughts are vitriolic.
But my words are sweet.
So pleasant.
Do you understand?
Who am I?
If you say, "Devil"-
Oh you, so full of terror.
You fear yourself too----
Do you not?
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 8:55 AM UTC
Vitriolic hydraulic push
Pull of sorghum
Sticking sweetly in my veins
Molar studded oatmeal cookies
Crunching like a bad dream
Dull rhinestone eyes
Losing more and more shine every day
Sluggish swole-bellied synapses
Firing in my brain
And I'm crying oversized tears
Drowning like Alice in Wonderland
I know you couldn't bear to breathe my air
Or share our bed
Or eat my cooking
But
"Did you know the capital of Uzbekistan is Tashkent?"
No.
Did you know I keep Austin up every night
Begging for your scraps?
Hedoesn'tlovemehedoesn'tlovemehedoesn'tlovemeandIdon'tunderstandwhatIdidwronghedoesn'tlovemeAustinmyheartisgone
I can still smell you
On my sunday dresses
And I'm afraid of the washing machine
And dryer sheets
Afraid of what they'll take from me
I had religion
I had faith in you
And I can still taste the body
Of Jesus Christ
Jesus Christ!
All night
Not like I lost anything important right?
Well
I'll probably never see you again
But my daddy's got a shotgun
Just in case
Mar 21, 2013
Mar 21, 2013 at 10:20 AM UTC
Better to close your mouth when someone is bad
Utter no word to defend or offend or just comment
At times keeping mouth shut is the only solution
By this act we save head and heart aches wisely
Many people do not know how to talk or converse
They simply tear heart by badly hurting our mind
During such occasions, strict silence is desirable
As our peace of mind will be absolutely preserved
We cannot expect great diplomacy from fools
They will stick to their regimen without any wit
And can never understand life's true intricacies
As their rotten thoughts will invariably hurt only
Piercing the heart using vitriolic words is a sin
God looks with contempt at wrong words said
Whenever indecent language is employed badly
That place is surrounded by devils with ecstasy
Devilish words that destroy peace are demons
Deadly emotions expressed indecently shall
******* peace of mind and happiness of heart
As they possess an evil influence to demolish
Use always kind words filled with great warmth
Practice sharing of love and merciful expression
Our duty is to make the atmosphere Heavenly
Surely that holy state is within our full control.
mvvenkataraman
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 11:47 AM UTC
you say it's not about the ***
but the declaration does nothing
to ***** the boiling terror
to shoo away that yawning hole
digging deeper and deeper
into the root system of my ribs
tilling the lush soil that is
my traitorous stomach
and ever shrinking lungs
it uproots me
grinds the stump where I once stood
a towering oak
or was I only ever a sapling
that was snapped in half
severed the exact moment
that the floodgates opened
and the raging storms remnants
poured forth unshackled by the walls
I carefully constructed around my trembling heart
how I screamed when they fell
the resounding crash
of my fingers digging into your back
pulling you closer
and closer
I can't stop wanting you closer
to inhabit that feeling
the safety of a harbor in a storm
you somehow can protect me
from the radioactive wasteland
that I am still traversing
dodging gamma rays of manic frenzy
and alpha particles heavy with the
black hole that swears it will consume all of me
its final sacrifice demanded my life
how can I trust this?
when the reality of the matter is
you are no lead apron
absorbing the radiation for me
some kevlar vest that can ever protect me
from the bullets of vitriolic bile I hurl inward
not to mention grenades thrown my way
by wayward neural firings
which find me craving my blood
a box of razors is
a box of friends
and reality diverges into an orthogonal plane.
you could be snatched from me
you are a small worm on
the biggest hook to make the juiciest
most succulent amuse bouche
for a big world of sharks
how ******* stupid am I
to be a fisherwoman who has
fallen in love with her bait?
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
In the bardo*
you are floating
aboard the barge of couldhavebeens
and moments that were unseen
not the world
not a boy or a girl
lost
Lost boys are found toys for Thor’s hands
to play with
Lightening lick of guitar solo
striking health into blushed cheeks
Soon you’ll no longer need to be
painted
The eye patches will be removed
and pirate life won’t mean
Scrounging and wishing for an oasis
you’ll throw a life saver
throw a light saber
Glisten the sparkzap through tables
laden with all that’s been spat
from vitriolic minds
Listen
sore elbows from nudging bad spirits away
Blades of bone
and intention can saw through sadness
to the light beyond
like the sky’s pinholes
Stars aren't the cuttings of children
the dark is just a covering
Poke a finger through
Don't fear if you get stuck
for it is only the backdrop to a stage
hiding the mass of light
only there to protect us from blinding joy
Like sunglasses
So be one with your sadness
May 29, 2016
May 29, 2016 at 6:02 PM UTC
In New Brighton,
in the Wirral they gently laugh at
anyone who thinks the Beatles
could be bettered
Still to this day I think
The Big Three's " Some other Guy"
was the better version.
In Stoke, dear Staffordshire
they apportion YMCA mentors
to the homeless teenage kids
who haven't yet navigated
the logistical hub of the new Potteries,
yet can only dream of open spaces
where weeds will flourish
Trentham Gardens being one.
Each of us would agree
there's a nuance in self preservation,
only recently carried to extremes by the vitriolic
of the late Summer Riots
whose fiefdom cry
"preponderant re-distribution"
turned England over.
Jun 11, 2012
Jun 11, 2012 at 3:18 PM UTC
I place her gently
on the
counter
Defiantly
bait
complacent
eyes
But ...
They have
often
seen my sort
Likes of me they do despise
“Take a seat”
she spits at me
Such venom makes me smirk
I size up my surroundings
Maybe now I’ll go berserk?
You see ..
I
dally with
Dark Demons
Devil
Deep Blue Sea
A lifetime lived in purgatory
Why does no one hear my plea?
*Help me
Help me
Help me
I’m drowning in the mire
Throw me out a lifeline
Before my will expires*
Cherubic eyes start taunting me
Pierce my hardened shell
I beg you
to
extract me
From this hell in which I dwell
*I often dream this dream
Surreal and quite sublime
Where the essence of my character
Transports to another time
Bonny hats
Crinoline
In my pocket sits a key
I stroll
out
into the garden
Wait by the old oak tree
Watch the boy approaching
From the distance on his mare
Close my eyes
Count to ten
Recite the lord’s great prayer
Soon he is upon me
I hand him now the key
And as I stare into his eyes
I see that the boy is* me
I don’t know what it means
But it tends to soothe the pain
Until the cycle
Fires up
Vitriolic rain
Pollutes my brain
*Help me
Help me
Help me
I’m drowning in the mire
Throw me out a lifeline
Before my will expires*
I start to scream
I start to shout
I know with them
I have no clout
We all go through the motions
We all have a part to play
I give a star performance
They know I’ll rue this day
Soon I’m bound and gagged
Contained within a cell
And if you listen very carefully
You’ll hear the sound of the
Death Knell …
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 2:35 AM UTC
The time numbs. I want it raw like it was.
Like ************ and ******
Something powerful and honest.
I let lies continue.
Fantasies I tease myself with.
I never follow these potential trails.
I’m terrified of not having blissful reverie.
Closure haunts me. I’m scared of definition.
I live in a time that never ends.
I breath the exhaust we know but cannot see.
The world spins upon my shoulders, I pass it on without using my hands.
People die, it’s distant.
Life doesn’t mean much.
I live here in a puddle.
I love all the potential I have to waste.
I don’t know what I would slobber on without it.
I want something raw.
Something abrasive, without some sort of superficial veil.
If I brush back another thin facade just to uncover a clearer image of ********
I’ll slump the world with my bear hands, and whatever blunt object is abreast.
The ensuing postlude or coattail if you will, is gruesome and redefines the word genocide.
Life passes by because it’s not cut with iron anymore. It’s chiseled away with fantastic stone and underlying hopeful chimes of music. A method to which leaves reality unclear, and insipid. Quite literally dull and un-vitriolic.
The time jingoes tore babies from teats, bounced sore bosoms, and buried John Doe’s in mass graves beside schools. Is long gone.
I live in a butterfly massacre.
Nov 6, 2021
Nov 6, 2021 at 2:51 PM UTC
the reason your joke isn't funny
has nothing to do with "politically correct,"
a phrase you throw out in vitriolic attacks
so mismatched with my gentle
"can we not?"
you think that you're edgy
and subversive
and i am just
sensitive.
you think that you're some comedic rogue
sticking it to censorship and "the man,"
which is ironic because
every joke you make sits
right within the lines
drawn for you by a society that's been telling you
w h a t
t o
t h i n k
since day one,
and actually by perpetuating the stereotypes and ideas
already ingrained in our culture,
you become the man,
man.
you are not an artist,
you do not create,
you are not the revolution,
and you can't fight the system
when the system is you.
now sit the **** down.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 2:00 AM UTC
A devilish change indeed
I've seen the Oppressor's cruel words
I looked into their eyes and smile
~~
My granddad most memorable words
Look into their eyes and smile my child
Never bow your head unless it’s to pray
~~
They might have a running feud with you
Not you with them
folks fight their own demon within
It’s the tainted smell from the blood
Of the beast as it washes our dark street
And clog our drains with shame and stains
Obnoxious things that would never go away
In this age of time:
because off the vitriolic hatred and bigotry
which often lead to hate words and crime
~
Granddad said he drank, talk and laugh
with them at the pub
and watch as the rats nibble at their faces
As they fall into the ditches in society fueding
about the black race.
However, a rat isn’t going to bite you
You unless he feel threaten.
so small point keep on smiling
Jan 19, 2014
Jan 19, 2014 at 8:56 AM UTC
Tootsie pops and pixie sticks,
I've come to play.
Three hundred forty licks
To the center. Everyday.
Sugar, spice, and everything nice,
Isn't that what they say?
My vitriolic vice,
I can't stay away.
Mar 29, 2011
Mar 29, 2011 at 8:04 AM UTC
you were walking through the dunes
of slow doom and a dark spasm. you sat with your back to the far lit -
so as to never strain an eyelid at the tapestry
you could not fathom.
striking out again, your head's down where the clouds smelt golden eggs
that never cool.
they burn like you burn
when you burn.
and that's
when you notice the words,
pouring from an incandescent
into the vitriolic grog
of a dark Anubis; pruning the brute fruit
from a stray vine.
canning the flesh in mason jars
as if possessed
back to Life.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 4:16 AM UTC
I've seen the work of the best minds
of previous generations scuttled and
passed by like garbage in a dumpster
the angel headed hispters
have gone the way of the dodo
their legacy nothing more than
some printed word and fading images
replaced, for a time
by the high energy punks
fighting the machinery that
keeps us enslaved to the grind
and the money that they own
and use against us
buy buy buy or you’re not
doing your part!
but alas
their legacy is nothing more
than safety pinned faces and scratched
records discarded in bargain bins
replaced, indefinitely by apathy;
global apathy
pockets of resistance remain,
but they are ground down,
shut down before their fire
can be seen
a new movement is needed
angry music, vitriolic poems
revolutionary diatribes
printed in meatspace,
where it affects real people
not as ones and zeros
in blue lcd glow
ignored as rantings of
crazy people;
demonstrations, pranks,
hoaxes, calling out the
powers that be to own up to
their actions and decisions
a pulling back of the curtain
to show the gears and cogs
that make it all work
but who shall lead this
revolution?
not I, I’ve got TV to watch
and things to buy,
and alcohol to numb all the rest
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 11:16 AM UTC
To the starry eyes who wink in the night,
lurking over empty solitary roads--
groaning pleas locked in impalpable shackles.
I unsteadily balance fear and prayer--juggling them
over each bony knuckle protruding
from ghostly white skin.
As I anxiously pull the wheel,
spry eyes dance between the hungry road
and the speedometer...
I fear the patient embers waiting to ignite in the darkness--
shall the chariot of fire roar from the gates of Hell tonight?
(I feel the weight of earth's calamity and Man's eternal sinful nature
amass atop my vessel,
sagging through the invisible tier,
mashing me farther and farther
beneath the wheel--
til I'm grounded meat within the gritty boulevard.)
And the embers snicker and flicker in the shadows of the endless night;
they prey on my fear like red-eyed vultures perched on scraggly branches--hunched, crooked spindly necks
crane menacingly into my windowpane.
But you, oh winking eyes of innocence who silently approaches me,
dragging across the gravel path on ****** knees--you like the presence of God in the burning bush, and I the meek shepherd in the wilderness!
Your urgent warning comes to me,
eclipsed within a single gesture--
in the brief moment the road swallows you up in darkness
as you shyly close your humble eyes in sincerity.
(The embers they know not of your betrayal,
with your back erected sternly towards them.)
In that instant I hid my face from you
and removed my sandals to stand atop holy ground.
Darkness soon broke, as your eyes again opened,
and in its radiance, an irrevocable axiom:
*It is when a person walks at night that they stumble,
for they have no light.*
It was then that I saw the light;
and in doing so I weaved the vitriolic embers--
those desperately seeking my spark to their ignite.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 3:25 PM UTC
So
Wilt thou
Let the cold storms
Maul me for our miff?
And
Wilt thou
Watch me drown
In thy angered roaring waves
Of love,for my frailty?
But
What wilt thou
Do,when thine anger
Is hence,and see my corpse
Couching in the cabins
Of these vitriolic waters
With my crust pare?
The
Pox I plagued
On thy heart,I plead
And for mine equally
I
Am a man
But a slave
In the grisps
Of the dim-light of jealousy
And I laboureth its whims absurdly
Day in,and day out
When my sight
Clutch them,hovering around thee
I
Love thee more than more
And it maketh me jealous
Am so, so jealous
I want thee for mine own
Just mine only
Yet
I know not
How to stack thee
Nor idolize thee wholly
This is my frailty,and I know
But I plead thee
leave me not
like a rose
rolling on the boulevards
Jealous
©Historian E.Lexano
May 26, 2015
May 26, 2015 at 1:40 PM UTC
It was a place, I used to hang my art
now a poetic graveyard, devoid of better parts
Friends, collaborators, and people that I knew
all that's left are reminders, a place, I was passing through
Hours, days, and months, spent typing like a fool
architecting prose and rhyme, utilizing every tool
Crafting and collecting, arranging words sublime
the site, now covered, drown, in vitriolic slime
Becoming witness too, such complete technological idiocy
lack of competent management, absence, of rote security
Trolls by any name, of many names they used
all of them may have been only one, ultimately abused
Rest in peace, and know the torch, not fallen free
caught by hands, more poetic, than mine will ever be
Sep 13, 2016
Sep 13, 2016 at 8:09 PM UTC
The emotions of his heart rage through his faltering mind
As he pretends it’s all copasetic he’s dying inside
His ascetic hopes are forlorn, mislead
Yet his vitriolic speech is calm, yet feigned
The deceitful gaze of one who’s dead
This tormented anguish is where darkness reigns
The subversion he’s endured to show her his integrity
The staunch defense he supplies is his loves continuity
Yet truth be told to him it’s all illogical
To him the words are more unsatisfactory than death
A claim of love leaves his heart more thoughtful
Since the same claim of love still resounds in his head
Now I don’t know how well you understand most my words
But what’s being said is what you’ve already heard
There’s more to it though if you can’t really tell
But you’ll know who I wrote about hopefully
And all I’m tryna say is… umm… well…
I do love you and hope you feel the same about me…
Sep 12, 2009
Sep 12, 2009 at 5:11 PM UTC
I can't breathe.
This vacuous hole
starved for oxygen
the scavenger of the stars
who found solace
who took up residence
at the center of my chest
sinking its barbed claws
into the warm, moist
flesh pressed against
my ribcage.
His yawning roar reverberates
off the walls of the prison of ribs
screams pregnant with
vitriolic shrapnel to
cut through bone
and vaporize to dust
my hijacked heart
pumping out thick
poison to necrotize
every living cell
who respires to
bring life to my
corporeal form.
How could I have hated
that vessel
who carried me and
nestled my vulnerable
essence in its walls
and surrendered to my will
to be the vehicle of
my humanity?
How could I not worship
the body who
bent itself to my will
and endured the torture
the wild ride to hell
tempting fate?
Now my body is not my own
and the black hole
consumes every piece
making up my
disjointed mosaic
taking my features one by one
until all that remains is a face
that he's sanded to
blank flesh.
Now I am in ruins
and my frescos are
bowing to the regal
procession of time.
May 20, 2015
May 20, 2015 at 1:21 PM UTC
As far as I can see, elocution and declamation
Thee this and thou that
Whence and wheresoever
Isthmus and anemone
Vitriolic and Diatribe
Bloviate and aplomb
But feeling has no discrimination.
Rococo words are not needed
Simply put is just as good
Too much icing makes a cake too sweet.
Bon appetit
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
Puzzle pieces that don't quite fit
We're two cogs that never meshed
How we turned, twisted, writhed
To fit in the molds we've left behind
We're older now, and yet wiser not
Our excuses are inexcusable
And our tongues too sharp
The sarcasm and vitriolic words
Burned acidic through every
Relationship that could have bloomed
And yet at the end of the day
We'd turn to each other and wonder
What was so wrong with the world
To turn our wondrous selves away
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 7:52 PM UTC
this is not a dialogue.
tug the cotton
out of your ears.
free speech
is the banner
fascists wave
to propagate
their hate, hissing
with forked tongues,
spitting vitriolic venom.
speak in a language
they cannot fail
to comprehend:
kick a racist
in the teeth.
**** off,
**** ****
no pasaran!
they shall not pass.
we won't go meekly
into that dark night.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 11:43 PM UTC
thrice do the floorboards creak
beneath your feet, eldest first
and every step is a wound
vitriolic and repeating
i hear the tenebrous stair
spiral forth with the sound
of you leaving
and by the intervals of sleep
i will fall forever, hymnal-red
through the ceiling
our wildest dreams fade faster
in the folds of my memory
thinking of those eyes
one last time
wrapped around me
May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 6:14 PM UTC
For laughter I came here
for the same I stayed
'til it became vitriolic
and unfunny
my shape shifting to suit
uncomfortable and not recognised
I shed the farce
and walked away..
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 9:16 AM UTC