"vociferate" poems
Fatima Latima
I had wished I had no gift of sight
That the worst I could endure is hear you speak
And not snapshot the footfall of your gradation
You may not be a thief
Nor **** daughter of the dayspring
But definitely my heart you stole
I speak of the daughter of Arabia
Aesthetically, she rocks
The queen of the pilgrim sands
And aeonian desert stones
Beyond the hijab
Artistically knead with consummate craft
Like the relics of Mecca
Blest by the prophet’s bones
The blessed
I see torches
Beaming with intelligence
Within those mascaras
Exquisitely trimmed and vibrant
A lulu class botany
She fixes a searching gaze
As she saunters close
And the stride and tread
Beats a drum entrancing
Soothed in her solacing spell
I give in, to her lullaby
She halts her perambulation
Stands magniloquent and stupefy
Like some pop diva magazine pose
Or Victorian secret shot
A tactical derangement of her gluteals
As she rests her palm in its cleft
I feel contractions, my dartos muscles
The blew of summertime
Gently beats her exceptional form
Her belt submerge her thigh crevice
Cleft by the sundered rift of fleshy fat
Built by the dainties and delicacies
Seasoned by the finest Arabian chef
As her silken dress slithers and gowns
Under the breeze bulging and blooming
Like a rose blossom or sunflower fore
As she bends down
To assuage the burlesque
The sun specula lilts her sensational
Her smile apologetic bids me stillness
I am caught staring
Guzzling down her scent and
Feasting on empty imaginations
Of What If that accentuate the mind and
Speed a hormone
And I pray I sin no more
Next time we meet and I see her again
For I am but a writer
Learning to use my pen and paper
And hope you but forgive
My linguistic impotence
When I make my confession
Employing too plain a language
When I say thus;
Her smile is classical
Her walk magical
Her beauty celestial
Her stride sensational
Her religion ethical
Her character spotless
And that leaves me breathless
And forgive if I step on broken toe
And try speak of the unspoken
Her ****** is sacred
Her being a type that dresses up
In the milliards of brutes dressing down
And shamelessly style it fashion
I must see a priest
One confession I ought to utter
And even vociferate abroad
For once I had fallen in love
With an Arabian Beautie
A ****** of Mecca.
Jun 18, 2012
Jun 18, 2012 at 9:12 AM UTC
I shall love diners after Death
Famished from a million mile trek
Soft dances, whimsical, flowing
All in time and in step
Effervescent in its antiquity
Light penetrates the vociferate soul
A blinding silhouette Reveals the true physique
casting no shadows
back, at last, back to the harmony &
surrealism of our sacrarium, our home
no more hours to waste away
nothing to signifying
night from day
no need to search for words to convey
As we began we return just as we should
our recrudescence revivifies our sainthood
with No judgment charged upon us
with no reward for the good
neither condemned are the noxious
immoral nor the many many absurd
For those deleterious malignant calamities
must remain incarcerated on Earth
from whence it came
As we Return once again
soul cleansed in beatific death
The physical abandoned with sin
The dead left unknown,
un birthed
Shut in
Aug 10, 2011
Aug 10, 2011 at 8:49 PM UTC
I shall love diners after Death Famished from a million mile trek
Soft dances, whimsical, flowing
All in time and In step Effervescent in its antiquity
Light penetrates the vociferate soul
A blinding silhouette Reveals the true physique
casting no shadows
back, at last, back to the harmony &. surrealism of our sacrarium, our home
no more hours to waste away
nothing to signifying
night from day no need to search for words to convey
As we began we return just as we should
our recrudescence revivifies our sainthood
with No judgment charged upon us
with no reward for Good neither condemned are the noxious
immoral nor the many many absurd
For those deleterious malignant calamities must remain incarcerated on Earth
from whence it came
As we Return once again
soul cleansed in beatific death
The physical abandoned with sin
Jan 1, 2010
Jan 1, 2010 at 7:03 AM UTC
For every emotion songs have already been written:
poetries and sonnets,
angry beats and ****** ballads.
My more positive, happier self is an extra-terrestrial being
from galaxies far away:
No cutting off fins from sharks. Unlike lizards’ tails
fins don’t grow back.
Love. Respect.
No ceramic idols lining the windows
their empty gazes crawling up your spine.
No empty promises. No magic cures for baldness.
Phones on mute during class. Eat sensibly.
Take a breather – life is not a race
to the finish line. Have cleaner washrooms.
Less unwanted criticisms. Less trance.
Love thy country.
Pin-striped shorts
from M&S; Stronger will.
No slitting wrists or overdoses. Suspend disbelief.
No secret candy stashes. Do your laundry without being told.
Omit racism, misanthropy. Wilted flowers by the windowsill.
No secret phone calls in the middle of the night.
Who are you afraid of? Almost and nearly don’t count.
Come home.
Forgive favorite band for disappointing album.
Be kinder to puppies.
Brood, not rant. Skulk, not stalk.
Get my name right.
Don’t drink and drive.
There are no gays, no lesbians, only
people with feelings.
Fight, not flight.
Have more 24-hour pizza places.
Avoid politicians, traitors, lawyers.
No throwing around words like vociferance,
vociferate, vociferous.
Accept fate – don’t be a martyr;
One day everything fades
so hold on to
all your post-it memory
until every star
turns to dust.
Jul 11, 2015
Jul 11, 2015 at 6:03 AM UTC
Seclusion
Tonight is a dark night
Here within the garden of the deceased-
In this place where wounded spirits who have lost their sanity
Are banned from the world outside,
Here in this desolate place where nobody sees the light of day.
I am alone where the walls are barren and
The floors have yellowed-
***** stained and tiles are cracked-
I stare at the ceiling through a curtain of tears falling from bloodshot eyes-
Moribund, I cannot escape past memories of merciless abuse which are colliding with
Recollections of profound neglect buried in the depths of a graveyard of despair-
As in a scene from a tragic film, I have become the infamous star,
I hear the wall clock outside steadily ticking
Rhythmically in time with hellions screaming from inside the fortress of my mind-
My emaciated body is robed in a sallow gown and
I can feel serpents twisted about my calves constricting.
This is a dark night-
This is a dark night where I have lost my grasp on veracity-
This is a dark night where I have been separated from the outside world-
This is the garden of the deceased, where
Phantasmal gravestones surround my dissolving soul-
My mind is in a wretched state and my thoughts are bellowing lunacy-
My cries for help have been silenced.
My worm infested brain is decaying-
I can only hear above the screaming stillness
The ticking of the wall clock outside, and
Threatening voices emanating from inside of my mind-
Putrid scents of rotting corpses infiltrate this cell and
I vociferate madness as the dirges that echo about my mind attempt to deafen me-
Neither moonlight nor sunlight can penetrate this windowless chamber-
Within this garden of the deceased where my spirit has just perished-
This is a dark night and I have been banned from the world outside-
In a desperate search for relief my outstretched arms attempt
To reach towards heaven as I can feel
My dissolving spirit sinking through the cracks in the decrepit linoleum tiles below-
I believe I can hear angels singing ‘Abide with me’ mourning the death of my soul-
The wall clock outside ticks on and on as I have lost my battle with fate-
I have become a lone cadaver buried here in the garden of the deceased-
This is a dark night where time has unobtrusively slipped away.
Claudia Krizay
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 5:08 PM UTC
A colourful candy bar,
Giving her warm fuzzies,
An angelic face,
experiencing a heaven sent,
A devilish face nearby with a malicious grin,
Ribboning lust in his heart,
Stepping towards a room full of toys,
Winning the child with petrol soaked perks,
**** of the door clicked,
Curtains being dropped,
The laughters altered to screams,
As a new leaf is turned,
Rapacious hold on the wrists,
Making the angel to vociferate,
Filthy hands and animalism,
Staining an innocent soul,
Carnal thirst being satisfied,
By victimising a child by libido,
Walls of the room tainted with a secret,
Childhood squirming in the corner,
Star shell wishes turning into coal,
Angels mourning,
Dolls gulping their tears,
Teddy bear covering his eyes with dismay,
A bruised piece of flesh and blood,
Stabbed from pain,
Butterfly peeking from a window,
Loses the colours of its wings,
The earth trembles terrifically,
As the sky detaches a star ! ⭐️
~ Ayesha Nadeem
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 9:28 AM UTC
The simple whisper of the word "commitment"
can make men and women run in an instant
without one look back at the broken pieces they've left,
you were no different and so my heart became your theft.
You repeatedly vociferate that you're not ready to settle down; not ready to grow up,
but in my heart I know you're lying to my face close up.
I know you'd settle if you found the ideal inamorata tomorrow,
but I'll never be "the one" for you so I will leave now and drown in sorrow.
Jan 31, 2016
Jan 31, 2016 at 5:32 PM UTC
Thunder pealed from heavens above
and the clouds a canopy drew,
the drenched trees vigorously swayed
as stronger, the gusty winds grew.
Rage, rage, O storm, blow away
the sorrows and her grieves
bring order through chaos,
as Gaia, in her anguish heaves.
Vent your dolour, unleash your fury
upon prodigal, profligate humanity,
that, the Earth's chastity has sullied,
Besmirched it with utter profanity.
Let your whistling winds vociferate
her plight; thunders, her wrath dispense
let your soothing raindrops nourish
the ailing Earth back to convalescence.
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 10:22 AM UTC
Be thankful
shout for joy
because
'they'
hate, deride
or despise
you
it's
they
vs you
be grateful
as
they
are taking
you
into their reckoning
you
must be
an important guy
or why else
should
they
bother
let
them
vociferate
and vituperate
the more
they
do so
the higher
you
they
rate
it's
your
moment of triumph
you
've caused
them
headaches
heart-aches
sleepless nights
embarrassment
even shame
and discontent
how
they
ache
to see
you
falling down
but
you
look away
you
are silent
and not a word
you
speak
nor care to reply
justify
or explain
you
in so doing
make
them
more uneasy
indeed
you
inflict
endless pain
on
them
the truth is
you
are not to blame
it's
they
who stoke the fire
and it's burning
them
too soon
they
can't take
the strain
frustrated
disappointed
irate
desperate
agitated
in anxiety unabated
they
in despair
throw their hands
in the air
they
give up
you
have conquered
them
with
your
masterly-orchestrated
stand and
contempt.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 10:49 PM UTC
The melding , waxing Moon ...
Coyote's vociferate for her favor in April
Katydids bathe in nocturnal blessings
Tree frogs sing the same sad tunes ,
cry for the pleasing call of Cicadas in the month of June ..
Mar 30, 2016
Mar 30, 2016 at 11:50 PM UTC
A day to offer franchise
As well as vociferate about
your maker.
A day to smile and clean our robs
dress to the fullest
and forget yesterday
A day to prosper as the sunny day
brightens our thinking
families together and husbands home
children off school and mother's
serving care to all in her presence
A day for the house of the lord to shine
with believers
all voices combined to sing Alleluia
Genesis rested him in such a day
And so we rest our troubles to him
A day that smells extraordinary
looks more beautiful than any other
breeze so calm with the
atmosphere sounding peacefully
A day that seems perfect to rest a soul!
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 1:50 AM UTC
Atte laste, lordynges feeble to avarice and swich cursednesse,
I would like to admit that I sacrificed the gang of the thirteen witches of emotions to baphomet,
I be clear your criticism gave birth to my theriomorphism,
Inshallah fail quench my hunger I be but a Tiger,
Laying in the same bed along side insomnia,
What form of religious madness is this?
Get on your knees, let me teach you theomania!
"Our father, our lord: who art in heaven leave us forsaken because our ***** are shaking to the devil's songs"
How hard is it to confess your own wrongs?
"repaint yourselves like chameleons"
God says "no matter where you hide, I will see you and I will **** you,
Because you have reached boundaries I can no longer tolerate!
Stop muttering prayers! But instead vociferate!
Alle and some, I am misunderstood for being evil
But this cardiacal imprinted in the walls of my heart a vernicle,
But I remain an oracle smoking tobacco in a tortoise shell,
Well, I honestly think the spiritual fathers should practice what they preach,
Because if I were to take off their vizards, you would surely all see some wizards,
But I won't reveal them because the cycle gets insidious,
Aghast!
Who know that I could be theriomorphous and treacherous?
So may I prosper behind the pulpit as I vormit the communion,
Meditating to goetic demons while preaching a morning sermon,
What form of monstrosity is this?
Excuse me priest but you mimic the devil and not Jesus Crist,
Heard rumour have spread around town
That "Alan's not an Angel" is a warlock
Well definitely!
I am certainly Con Fuoco!
Sep 17, 2018
Sep 17, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
i walk across the tight rope,
not looking down as i sway,
for i know,
that the show will end,
if i ever look away,
i can see my goal,
its clear to me,
that it's no different.
than those who keep quiet,
and those who are vociferate.
because in the end we are all walking this tight rope.
hoping every day we don't fall,
or maybe you're someone who doesn't want to stay,
who want's to sway,
every day,
you carry this burden
walking across the tight rope.
you carry it all on the weight of your shoulders and you feel your legs about to break from underneath you.
but you're still here.
you stayed.
shouldn't that count for something?
anything at all?
keep walking this tight rope.
trust me, it's better than the fall.
because if you fell from the tight rope,
than those around you would sway,
as the ropes balance began to displace,
since you've fallen away.
there's a balance.
just keep walking the tight rope.
and continue walking the slippery slope.
Because it's not how fast you get there that makes you special.
It's how many people you can amaze with your talent.
And if you can't walk tight ropes then try juggling.
It's okay if you find yourself struggling.
Tight ropes aren't easy.
Neither is living life.
But we keep going despite,
always thinking twice.
So keep walking the tight rope, do it for me friend.
And one day you'll see it, you'll make it to end.
Jan 21, 2018
Jan 21, 2018 at 11:22 PM UTC
. Vociferate
Say what you ink
don’t blotch or smudge
or smear or blemish
after committing your
pen to paper, anger
can’t be censored
rage can't be
tempered, pain
can’t be punctuated
but scars are
accusative
because they
never erase.
May 26, 2023
May 26, 2023 at 12:42 PM UTC
Years had elapsed
My love did’t change
I find myself,
Depressed.
Discarded.
Over cried.
Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:09 AM UTC
You bellow my appellation,
unworthy soul
you vociferate
proclaiming
my worthlessness.
Your cries echo
with ignorance,
lamenting my alleged
idleness
and ineptitude,
prophesying
my perpetual failure.
Yet, I shall Pivot,
standing resolute,
a smile
gracing my visage
as I regard you
and declare,
'One day,
I shall bask in Prominence
One day,
Prosperity
shall be mine.
Joy
shall accompany me,
I Will be Industrious and
Honor Will Adorn Me
I will Ascend
Far beyond your reach,
and you will remain oblivious
ensnared
in the depths
of your own despair,
until you glimpse my face
from an exalted realm,
a perspective
forever unattainable
to you.
Nov 8, 2024
Nov 8, 2024 at 9:08 AM UTC
I held my pen so tight.
I squeeze my mind till it bleeds.
I emptied my heart.
I freed myself from pain.
I want to shout.
I want to hurt others' feelings.
I want to vociferate.
I want you to notice me.
Somehow.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC