"vulgarity" poems
The body was given to us as impression of the gift of love.
We were conceived in love and born in order to love.
The Creator has given us through the body to the world.
We are therefore divine spark.
Let us look at other man as at indescribable gift.
Adam and Eve in paradise followed in the wake of ****** without shame.
Through the body we can touch the soul.
This ****** was
acceptance of a man with his limitations,
tangible form of love,
devotion to each other without mystery,
boundless openness,
freedom from lust of flesh.
Bashfulness has its roots in this original innocence.
Discretion to the body is inscribed in man.
Let us follow with pure look at man.
Purity is trying to get access through the body to soul and inside.
The physicality brings us
childish joy,
communion of souls,
inner enrichment,
sharing a beautiful relationship,
exploration of mystery of love.
Pure look at man is unconventional symphony of his gift of life.
Such scrutinizing is necessary for genuine love.
Beloved should first play simultaneously the same notes of feelings
before the symphony will flow with sexuality.
This presage will give your body speech.
Sexuality should not drown out the relationship with beloved,
it should build skyscrapers.
Sexuality is a gift, such as body and life.
Sexuality discovers endless wealth of lover.
****** expression of love is a confession of God's presence.
After all, God is love.
Only the perception of sexuality as gift saves from vulgarity.
Oct 1, 2014
Oct 1, 2014 at 12:46 PM UTC
Words surge
Vulgarity stutters
What's that again?
OH!! You shuttered
Shut down voices
Disagree in thought
Stop in your tracks
Facts are not sought
Facebook, Twitter
Social media sites
Opinions are all quenched
Control is such a might
The Storm is coming
So I was told
Stand up strong
Always be bold
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
**** on my hands
Feet steeped in dirt
My back pains to stand
My raw **** begins to hurt
Excuse my vulgarity as it is not my intent
Excuse my anger as it tends to become violent
Excuse yourself for your ignorance and malice
Excuse my voice, if you want quiet crazy go ask Alice
Watch my face as I start to grin
It kinda ***** to watch you win
My aggression teaches lesson
My death is all that is left
Watch the water as it turns black
Black as my soul
Black as coal
My sin is your deliverance
My goal is your difference
Can't you see how blind I am?
Cant you feel how hurt I am?
Wash the blood of of my hand
Wish you luck I don't give a ****
Can you people guess my direction?
It has become hard to maintain ********
The voices blend into a shout
Hard for me to figure it out.
If you want sleep
Don't be a creep
For your soul will weep
For your eyes will start to bleed.
I can hope you decipher my message
If not well **** my guesses
Of your thoughts and intentions
All apologies of which I speak
Can't help when my eyes don't blink
Aug 3, 2013
Aug 3, 2013 at 12:11 AM UTC
you think you can insult me with your charm
you think you can insult me with your beauty
you think you can insult me with that mind of yours
and if you speak
and even if you are so sentimental
your sighs still ring heavily in my broken showers
why am I so deadened
beaten down
by my own definition of what you are
you creep to those trees in my land
growing along side me
watching the season come and go with me
that is what you render to
resort to
should you dry yourself off in the cloak of
shame and timid everyday
just bring an end to me and this
bring and end
or atleast say something
actually
maybe silence should be kind
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 5:08 PM UTC
Dear Alok
God didnt create us
we created him
how would your message be delivered
when god is just an imaginative character ?
but you are real
i am real
she is real
he is real
shall I call you "she"
shall I call you "he"
lets figure out
who you are
you have *****
I have ******
you put dark lipstick
I put light colored
you put heavy make-ups
I keep it as simple as it is
you wear bra without anything to hold inside
and you keep it all open
I wish not to make people know i wear bra
I try to keep it as secret as it can be
though you say
you neither want to be called a woman
nor a man
why not men's wear then?
why women's wear you chose?
first decide who you are
what's the difference?
is it the gender or is it something else ?
your vulgarity was tolerated
coz it was you
if it was me
i would have named a ****
by the same crowd
who found you inspirational
in this case I am ditched
not you
coz you still are a man inside women's dress
you are man
your ***** makes you one
gender is not a problem
problem is your sexuality
not only your sexuality
but mine
his
everyone's
what matters here is commitment
love matters very little
*** is a taboo
sexuality is a taboo
May 23, 2017
May 23, 2017 at 7:00 AM UTC
If a world is known by its ideals
Let mine be known as sanity
Let all men be infertile
And all women, stale
Let streets be known for sanitation
And all babies dipped in chlorine
All talk, sterile and sufficient
All excrement concealed
Let the youth of my predecessors
And their mocking vulgarity
Drown in a town of minimal design
And shocking similarity.
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
Love
Has no shape
Love
Has no color
Love
Has no meaning
Love
Has no dimension
Love
Is different for each………….
Love
Could be craving for body
Love
Could be making out in bed
Love
Could be lust between two couples
Love
Could be vulgarity couples offer
Love
Could be kissing all-day
Love
Could be in laughing all the way
Love
Could be crying together
Love
Could be comforting each other
Love
Is different for each…………
For me,
Love
Is the way she stalks me
Like a tigress stalking from behind bushes
Love
Is the way she talks to me
Like sweet raindrops of love falling on my body
Love
Is the way she cares for me
Like air, can’t be seen, but exists
Love
Is the way her heart beats for me
Like waves in the ocean on their way to my beach
Love
Is the way she sparkles with her smile
Like a spectrum of colours vivid and bright
Love,
Is a feeling she feels
Love,
Is an emotion she exhibits
Love,
Is the bond she has with me she carries
Actually,
She Is Love in disguise
The only definition, Of love in my life
The lone Love Of my Lonely Life
For me,
She is Love
and
Love Is She
Only she
May 17, 2021
May 17, 2021 at 9:51 PM UTC
My personal déjà-vu-time memory-prompts that frame
The blurring patterns of today’s hubcap-wheels, spinning
Kaleidoscope flashbacks of bathtub playtime.
A gaggle of giggling girls babbling about
What used to matter : umbrella-popping chewing gum
With gallivanting jargon laced in crushes-hushed : boy-talk.
Pillows : Comforters morphing, swarming like
Womb-entranced, half-cupped palms calmed
Palpitating mouths motoring off self-pitying rumble-grumbles.
How the clopping ball of opted-birr was a bent-mouth birdcall
Over-relished, over-zealous imploration : a round robin
Jumblemix of a jejune bombast for slap-sticked power.
By-and-by polysyllabic buds bloomed, baked, and wrinkled
Past-Gas’s long-gone jokes : those balmy snug-hugs guarding
Doltish vulgarity among the begrimed-glitch and old-grown-boring Jive.
Apr 7, 2011
Apr 7, 2011 at 11:49 PM UTC
This is a formal complaint to one Cupid
on behalf of the population of earth.
We find that you've become somewhat,
how can we put it mildly....
unsavory
ever since you started drinking. We've
found that you have not been taking
your job seriously at all since that time
We were understanding at first. Your
job? It's not an easy one. It tolerates
almost no failure, and requires both
physical and mental capacity that is
beyond what most of us can spare.
However...we feel that the alcohol is
affecting your judgement and character
in a way that we can no longer accept.
Below, we've listed the particularly
heinous abuses of your power
1. Taking bets on what you can make people fall in love with. John is now smitten with a cactus while Jenny can't stay away from the inflatable Santa Claus on the Morgans' lawn.
2. Having very attractive women fall in love for your...erm...personal pleasure. That's just offensive
3. Having members of the same family fall in love. The vulgarity of it all is just appalling! It's an ****** epidemic!
4. Shooting your arrows at Rhinoceroses and then laughing as they charge a poor unsuspecting person is not funny.
5. Likewise, shooting an unsuspecting person and having them fall in love with a Rhinoceros who doesn't reciprocate is equally unfunny
6. Last, but not least...Please fix the Republican Candidates. Mitt Romney and Rick ******** are trying to get married next week. While I'm happy that they are now "for" gay marriage, this cannot be tolerated.
So? Do you have anything to say for
yourself? Is that alcohol I smell on your
breath? You don't even care, do you?
Well...we have no choice but to revok---OW!
Oh dear.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
This is for all the girls
Who think they aren’t skinny enough
This is for all the girls
Who think they aren’t pretty enough
This is for all the guys
Who think they have to act a little more “tough”,
As if mere kindness isn’t enough.
This, my friends, is for you.
Our society today
Has painted its own little picture
Of how we should look
So that guy’ll wanna “get wit cha”
Of how to live and how to dream
Of what to do and who to be
Today it seems the only way to be “cool”
Is to smoke a little and drink a few
To stay out until all hours of the night
Partying, getting higher than a kite
See, what gets me confused is this
The things we are told are right
Are much different than what we see on TV
If there is one thing I hate more than lying,
It’s hypocrisy.
We are told to exercise
To get fit, and eat right
Then what do we see?
Models throwing up at night
Scared
Because the pressure is too much
To eat is too pricy
So food, they don’t touch.
What is a model?
Someone or something used as an example
I don’t know about you, but
When I shop, I grab up ALL the samples
Starving isn’t realistic
Nor is it “right”
Regardless of your pant size,
Regardless of your height.
We are told that beauty is only skin deep
That what really matters is all underneath
I have yet to see one person at the VMAs
With less than 5 makeup products on their face
Why is that?
There’s a simple Answer.
Thanks to Maybelline and L’Oreal
It costs 6 dollars for a beauty enhancer.
Girls talk all the time
About how there are no good guys out there.
I hate to burst your bubble
But saying that isn’t fair
There are plenty of guys
Who are respectful and kind
But you push them away
Without a care in your mind
You want one thing
Then it changes to another
Because movies make you think
You don’t have to really care for one another
They show relationships as prideful,
Full of lust and lies
So when it comes to the real world,
Kind guys are despised.
So they mask their emotions with
Hardness and Vulgarity
Showing love on occasional,
Rarely, and sparingly.
See According to society,
Men have to be “tough”
Or else they are judged and pushed aside
Left waiting for the one to call their bluff.
This is for all the girls
Who think they aren’t skinny enough
This is for all the girls
Who think they aren’t pretty enough
This is for all the guys
Who think they have to act a little more “tough”,
You’re beautiful, you are loved.
Don’t ever let anyone tell you
You aren’t enough.
Oct 19, 2012
Oct 19, 2012 at 4:07 PM UTC
Never let her go.
Even if she has the nastiest tongue,
that not a single sentence she speaks doesn't have vulgarity,
but when she speaks those three words
makes the most beautiful symphony.
Never let her go.
Even if she's the craziest girl you know,
that not a single day you spend with her doesn't have her constantly nagging you,
but when she gives you her most tender kiss and her warmest embrace,
melts the most frozen peaks.
Never let her go.
Even if she loves taking pictures of herself,
that not a single day doesn't drown you with her selfies,
but when she gives you her most beautiful smile,
makes the brightest stars go dim.
Never let her go.
Never let her go.
Because the single day that you do,
will make you regret that you ever did.
May 31, 2016
May 31, 2016 at 4:28 PM UTC
The forever-stench of hoboken
The most composed... undress
Loosened to a senseless smirk
Keep walking...
The prettiest eyes droop to a cool low
Posture is hard to keep with them shots!
Keep walking...
Messaging another senseful planet the boring absurdity of now
Watch your step!
Her fine italian dinner is inches away
Or is it fine thai...
It's vulgarity kills any sense of definition
Uh oh... now there are more puddles!
Keep away from those leaking lakes
Of sushi... sashimi... heineken... absolut!
Absolutely acceptable in this town!
Come on! We're almost out of it
Out of the town we were once so happy to visit just a couple of hours ago
When everyone was efficient, and not venturing *****
When communication wasn't fogged, but clear and easy
When men didn't dress like 14 year old boys trying to score at a house party
And women didn't give away their IQ so easily, heads slightly bent forward with a lack of direction
Maybe it was home, maybe it was danger, maybe it was fun
The zombie within arose with a wretched stench of alcohol
Yet this will never stop selling
People are sold this "treasure" of acceptance, rank, a strong sense of esotericism, all lies
Yet in reality, they are simple facades, regular people like you and me.
O Hoboken, you stink
Mar 14, 2010
Mar 14, 2010 at 9:40 PM UTC
******
Depressed,
And not someone who'd like to meet you.
Except,
I don't show any of that.
So, I'll still greet you.
Especially if your pretty,
Or listen to cool music.
I'm pretty picky about who I share my secrets with.
Or overly nice,
Or interested in me.
As long as you have time to talk.
You could be anyone.
Even "an angry lesbian,
With a loaded gun."
Just as long as you listen to me,
I'll be happy.
So I'm sorry if my vulgarity,
And depression overwhelms you,
I promise it's not meant too.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Sympathy threw the
Eyes
Vulgarity out the
Mouth
No despair for poor Girls, and
poor Boys
Ribs, skulls, and bones
Is all that's visible
Crying over
Pictures
Seemingly unreal.
Their faces expressing
Shades of envy.
Is there modesty
Beneath gaudy clothes?
Aug 19, 2014
Aug 19, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC
Hiding behind text messages
we believe immunizes the heart
is a forced loneliness
a perpetual confinement
in a dark room, with low music
which only breeds madness
In such famine, the body desires touch
the soul craves fellowship
the mind requires intellectualism
laughs between true friends
and shared tears
of kindred spirits
Once we can no longer bear starvation
comes the gluttonous feast
As wretched hogs at a trough
any form of attention is consumed
to fill the growing chasm of
worthlessness
Blinded by false admiration on backlit screens
the body, the soul, and the mind savors
cheap flattery of dark temptations
Vulgarity drools thick as blood from blackened lips
The sweet tinge of grief
that bitter hit of hatred
spirals descent into the dark void
that forever hides the light
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 4:22 PM UTC
The vulgarity of language underwhelms me.
Blankly, I stare into the faces of others.
What is language?
I look to you, them, and I see nothing.
I want to make tangible the fluidity and beauty of my mind.
No.
In the face of eternity I weep.
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Love
Has no shape
Love
Has no colour
Love
Has no meaning
Love
Has no dimension
Love
Is different for each………….
For others,
Love
Could be craving for body
Love
Could be making out in bed
Love
Could be lust between two couples
Love
Could be vulgarity couples offer
Love
Could be kissing all-day
Love
Could be in laughing all the way
Love
Could be crying together
Love
Could be comforting each other
Love
Is different for each…………
For me,
Love
Is the way she stalks me
Like a tigress stalking from behind bushes
Love
Is the way she talks to me
Like sweet raindrops of love falling on my body
Love
Is the way she cares for me
Like air, can’t be seen, but exists
Love
Is the way her heart beats for me
Like waves in the ocean on their way to my beach
Love
Is the way she sparkles with her smile
Like a spectrum of colors vivid and bright
Love,
Is a feeling she feels
Love,
Is an emotion she exhibits
Love,
Is the bond she has with me that she carries
Actually,
She Is Love in disguise
The only definition, Of love in my life
The lone Love, Of my Lonely Life
For me,
She is Love
and
Love Is She
Only she
May 16, 2021
May 16, 2021 at 2:29 AM UTC
I am hopelessly attracted to grumpiness
impatience
poignancy
eccentricity
introversion
stubbornness
anxiety
misanthropy
frustration
hedonism
vulgarity
How, then, do I define 'imperfection'?
Jul 27, 2013
Jul 27, 2013 at 8:37 PM UTC
"Don't leave out the graphic details."
Oh, trust me. I won't.
The gruesome, disturbing, intimacies.
The bone-chilling, hair-raising fragments.
It's almost too much to bear.
But not quite.
This vulgarity is just enough to keep them on the edge of their seats.
Every tiny, twisted moral of the story.
In between the cracks, find shining slivers of redemption.
Only to immediately cover them up with rotten deception.
Good, ***** flair. Scummy additions. Sick annotations.
Keep the masses rollin' in.
Complexity, concentration, then chaos when they want more fear.
The blood-curdling, stomach-churning truths.
The disgraceful, distasteful deductions.
We've come to the conclusion they crave this coagulation of ****
Dark disdain eating away at the corpse of wellness.
Vermin, pests, gnawing, slobbering.
Choking on the bones of prosperity.
The decomposition of this life is what they love.
Flies, gnats, swarm. Maggots clump.
Crack, rip, slurp, gag, choke, ******* die.
Sep 8, 2010
Sep 8, 2010 at 6:57 PM UTC
You are the whisper out of darkness
Murmured through pursed lips
The dip in temperature
A chill that sits against
The brim of misting eyes
That hides in hopeless sighs
And I think I’ve lost you
To your ghost, your name
Hosts all these bones
In closest mocks me taunts
and worse yet
I fret that all this emptiness
Is just a mockquet
this is leading up to something.
A real piece of work
Titled regrets, lets
Reflect on your unsettling lack of subtleties
My role model , how sad is that
All dressed in drunk swag stagger
A fake front you called confidence
And vulgarity you called humor
I will swallow all these distant dreams
Let you settle in my mind then I’ll call you tumor
Call you tremor call you st st stutter
Call you all the words I never uttered
I could just call you my fathers mother,
But that leads with some misconception
I can’t conceive as an accurate description
So listen I’ll just end this in love and pain and stress
We’ll leave in silence and different pains in our empty chests
I guess we’ll be leaving holding our breaths and i'll just keep on living
with these regrets.
May 17, 2013
May 17, 2013 at 4:45 AM UTC
It happened when I left home,
that I came across this fact;
Summer was murdered
and I didn’t care.
Like the never ceasing ticks of a cheap watch,
merciless protesting, and I play the conservative
atop a mountain of **** [I can’t save anything].
I left home a loser and came back a martyr.
I am vulgarity and purity in the same essence.
I bleed and I congeal. I am the prodigal son
with bleeding extremities and a worn mind.
I’ve seen so very much.
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 6:18 PM UTC
it usually leaps like a swordfish out of the ocean
and I’m able to harpoon it,
but as of lately,
I’m stuck with pond ****
and the tuna on my bad breath.
it’s nowhere to be found;
not in the parks,
the libraries,
the liquor stores
nor the circuit clerk’s office,
I tried fishing it out of the swaps of
spitfire and melancholy
but found nothing
I tried to ****** it with an excessive
amount of trouble and ********
but found nothing
I tried scooping the guts out of myself
like a hollowed out pumpkin and
splattered it with a wet slap
against an old newspaper
but found nothing
there’s nothing here;
no spark,
no imagination,
no ingenuity
what I’m I suppose to do?
as I sit here petting the black
velvet fur of my dog,
my toes won’t stop curling,
my nails are bitten down to the nub
and the stink of aging soars past
like eagles on fire
I have nothing to write about:
no unpopular opinion
no peculiar viewpoint
no bludgeoning over
the banality of
extinction
the only logical thing to do is
head out to see some local
band at a Chicago bar and see
where the alcohol takes me
I need the ammunition
I need the fuel
I need to make
something happen
the hard days of labor have diminished me
through attrition and lack of euphemism
but for right now, no matter how
saturated I am of feeling and thought…
whether I’m
drunk on sleep,
salacious on vulgarity,
grieving with quills,
vacant of *****
dreaming of gout,
reading Géza Csáth,
listening to Sass Dragons,
burrowing under empty houses
or fixing the plumbing for the woman down the hall.
I still
can’t
coax
the word
out.
Feb 13, 2025
Feb 13, 2025 at 10:45 AM UTC
The strong pressure from the outside groaning force
might as well turn me into
an alluring wild tolerant pointless fool.
But I would not.
For I'd rather be
a classic wallflower stuck in a solitary place.
I'd rather be dorky than a confident fake.
Perhaps, it's better to keep a mystery a mystery,
than to evolve oneself to annoyance and shameful vulgarity.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
you enter my dreams with such audacious curiousity;
examined the void with intellect- deprived precision,
inspected every crevice painted in colour.
you left the blue for last because you say
the amphetamine matches my eyes.
you sample every syllable ever borne from my mouth,
denude the metaphors to their unchaste nakedness,
reach inside for unfleshly meaning.
you say all my filthy secrets implode into
ugly saliva bubbles on the brim of my tongue
and that is why you bite it off.
you make the drain spin out water. you make reverse hurricanes.
you euthanise my suffering mind with vulgarity and sliver-veined chalks.
i like it when the moon is yellow and not white.
spread me across your bones, you make me cold
**** in flesh. you wear me on your head as you would a stubborn fever.
you lick the lily, burn away its petals and
then you use the ashes in your next drag.
there are ghosts in your hair, they want idiosyncratic judgments.
they want anatomised angels and amputated wings.
they want ribs, signals, vessels and chlorine and aileron segments.
and electric ***
i am thinking of lexemes and lycoris, the vulnerability of artlessness,
prosthetic fingers and cigarettes, the umbrella under metal rain.
i only remember realities when they are expired.
the ribbon between cognition and the ventriloquist.
the psychology in undesired sentences.
this is the only immortality you and i may share; amongst ourselves
like teenagers filching answers before algebra, like dealers exchanging
eight-balls, pipes and profanity, like animals in chemical heat.
this vanilla immortality that we no longer need.
i'm watching the end of the world
from underneath your clothes.
Nov 1, 2010
Nov 1, 2010 at 6:42 AM UTC