Best Abortive Poems
Coffee Addiction
Calibrating coffee homeostasis flows easily back and forth
On the ‘high’-way of instant craze and crave of gratification
'Feodor' true to his name slurps the divine gift all day to rise
From moody withdrawal of night slumber slumping aground
Energetic vigour and buoyant exuberance alights from
Exhaustion brought on by life and pulsating caffeine’s fix
Abortive attempts to reduce hooked intake accrued no success
Doomed at one time and in lack of hot water 'Feodor' even
Dissolved coffee in Cola to feed effervescent dependence
Imbalanced the mixture blew up but nourished his need
Caressed by foam on his face he confronted his addiction
To vow not to drink less tropical grind but have water
In sufficient vital supplies at all times to keep well afloat
On balance his highs derived from his beverage of choice
Navigate his depression much better than Cocaine or booze
30th November
Categories:
abortive, addiction, good morning,
Form:
Acrostic
Incoming to live
I died unborn, and
I don't know if I did
Something wrong.
Don't play on being bemused
Mom,
As I'm gone
Now.
Why the killing of the unknown me
I also did not know you
Nor the world's beauty,
You know I'm true.
I was assured to life by two
Participants, you and dad
I took all the believe I had,
For you mom are to give birth.
I thought I was under warthog
Shadow, therefore not vulnerable,
Not knowing you wanted me gone,
Now I'm not available,
Honestly you're not responsible.
You terminated my life,
Did abortion,
And I'm now abortive,
Failed to cruise to living.
I died unborn.
Categories:
abortive, birth,
Form:
Epic
We beheld the beauty of the first garden in originality
Life in its simplicity
An egalitarian world
Needs and wants afar us
We neither pray nor fast to feed belly
We commune and fellowship face to face
Flesh and spirit is one
Death abortive
The proclaim wisdom acclaimed by man
Hamper it intended mission
Placed us amidst mess
Deviation from the state of merriment, rest, respite, jollity
Who is to be blame?
The creator, the created perhaps the mediator
The blameless remain irreproachable
They’re will wheel us to this end
Selfish being
End of discussion hope for a new heaven
Behold you are the garden
The seed to design second palace
Feed the feeble
The tree that shelter the vagabond yet build bridges
The river that giveth life
The Peace that accommodate conflict yet combat evils
You’re second Adam
Special breed ordained to bring heaven on earth
Awake!!!
The mediator yet live
It intended mission yet live
Steal, kill and destroy
Girdle your heart and take your position
Now you are gods.
Build your dreamed world
Habitable for all
Categories:
abortive, bible, christian, heaven, inspiration,
Form:
Free verse
the good
The doors to my mind and heart
circle as revolving doors.
A peek inside and you see
happy memories and joyous events,
the loves, and lifelong friendships
A cul-de-sac, though a dead end,
has a circular finish, a merry-go-round
that accumulates happiness as it spins
into a cloud of beauty and nature,
compassion, gods, and faith.
The breathless moments in life,
birth, newness, novelty, exuberance
in being, living, experiencing
laughter, butterflies, and springtime
within my soul, my gratitude.
the bad
The doors to my mind and heart
circle as revolving doors.
A peek inside and you see
the pocks of the years that came
to leave their soured, sadistic truths.
So, like a cul-de-sac you may enter
but the exit is the same as you came.
A Ferris wheel, past the highs and lows
of lost hopes, of murky dreams that end
with more questions than I will answer…
A dead end with death as the prize
for endless dreary days and noxious nights
of sorrow, sadness, misery, and grief
with no hope, no desire, no ambition
faith gone and forgone, abortive.
the ugly
The doors to my mind and heart
circle as revolving doors.
A peek inside and you see
the sear of anger and revenge
spiraling apocalyptically.
The cul-de-sac where giant wind turbines
turn and churn and gnaw at my insides
generating incompressible turbulence
that amasses until it ruptures, spewing
rage and outrage that I will honor…
In and out, inescapable, dead
like my heart, my soul black as coal,
seeking retribution for perceived
wrongs against me, ill-timed and
sanguinary persecution.
Categories:
abortive, anger, dark, hate, life,
Form:
Free verse
all stars that bright doth beam
doth not always a-right accord
that moderate terminal destiny;
routes there be craft-fill'd & thorny
but shaft-fill'd with the happy soft ending
clownish & whimsical as ‘tis doomful;
o moderation oft maketh abortive
a warfare’s line of battle at the hottest
angle that would take its foe’s roots.
Categories:
abortive, fantasy
Form:
DISVIRGINED TRUTH
We don’t have enough time left to check time
Many left as too much couldn’t get enough
Stranded in the middle of no where with no dime
The lord will provide; yet, journey still too tough
This is a historical case we all presumed
Based on facts fore-known; this is presumptive
Reasonably not the worst we all assumed
Mission not accomplished became abortive.
On air, same plane, different pilots
On a coming together, different cohorts
Our problems too enormous, might capsize us
Engulfed in cloudy flames, critics criticize us
Sin is fun, fun is sin; poison tasting so sweet
Let the apostles wash their heads, Jesus will wash their feet
Time to leave the multitude and reach the altitude
Time to ignore our oppositions and maintain our positions.
Many prophets, same quest, different prophesies
Ambition is priceless, same quest, different emphases
We are here for destiny sake, one mission
Starting to keep moving, confused vision
Time to focus and get it
Our ‘F’ is for forget it
Kiss it and stuck your tongue
Even we are wrong.
...LORDVIP...
Categories:
abortive, humorous, philosophy,
Form:
Lyric
Twas like every November before it,
But this one came with an air of uncertainty,
For the drums of celebrations had halted in may.
When Owen celebrated his second birthday.
Fate was finally smiling at Evbareke
Those around her had thought,
For indeed she, the child whose mother abandoned just nine months after her birth.
And left in the care of her sick father,
Aged grand mother,
Family members who cared less
For her existence.
Had grown to become a beautiful girl,
Whose nature was fair,
Like the back of a ripe alimo fruit
Which falls bountifully in the Month of March.
She, the girl whose childhood
Was characterize by total neglect and
Destitution had out of nothing found favour,
In the eyes of a decorated soja man.
Fast forward to 1989.
Her civil servant father died of an eerie
Circumstance; a live fish was removed
From his stomach.
Her life regained some sanity when
The soja man married her,
Immediately after Her father's burial.
He had promised to stay with her forever
And make her happy.
But nightmares also do come to pass.
Oga soja had a first wife at home,who
discontinued child birth after two children.
Her every action brought doom
To every one that crossed her path.
Fast forward to August 93,
The pressure from oga soja's first wife
Became unbearable, but oga soja in his kind
Nature, comforted her.
After all, she has given him
Three boys with another one on the way.
Death would strike again
But this time it came in form of a mere cold.
A cold that started on a very hot afternoon
All means and measures to quell the cold were abortive.
So death was inevitable,
It came that morning when oga soja told her to
Forgive him because he had worsen her plight.
"Look after our children" were his last words.
That November she was told to marry
Oga Soja's younger brother,
Who promised to cater for her
And her children.
She refused and decided to go her way
And raise her children all by herself.
Interjection;
Do not take it too seriously
Life will happen to her and her children,
Who defied all odds to live a good life.
And when she is asked what her biggest
Regret in life is?
She would say November 1993.
Godwin Henry Osaigbovo (Pa Shakespeare)
Categories:
abortive, life, lonely, loss, lost
Form:
Prose Poetry
Spiritualist -Signs of Souls
Fragmenting eyes of sorrow of baneful tears that demons burrow
Stealing Cupids arrow and the elusive songs of the morning sparrow
Encroaching black mass revels jubilantly to break the mirror's glass
Within the barbarous brass lies dormant their venomous ghostly gas
+++
Dancing amidst rambunctious rituals flaunting their hadal habituals
Illusions entrap the spirituals decapitating souls leaving no residuals
Satan’s lies are beastly born to rip your flesh with a torquing torn
Cathedrals crumble in his scorn with pandemonium’s yet to mourn
+++
Cadavers climaxing high as armies of darkness sedate the secular sky
The lost begin their cry upon ravaging ruins where their death does lie
Dormant dreams of deep thus awake within a wary wounding weep
Abortive ashes silently sweep over tombs where the Pharaohs sleep
+++
I walk in solitude above my gated grave a phantom who cannot crave
Thus abandoned within my cave where demons dine and will enslave
Evil does efficiently exist when God is put aside within heavens mist
Ask my heart that is in a twist for all the love that has been dismissed.
...MP3 music by Draconian~'Heavy Lies the Crown'
Sept.26.2018
Ghosthunters and Spiritualists
Sponsored by: Kevin Shaw
Placed 4'th
Categories:
abortive, conflict, dark, lost, pain,
Form:
Rhyme
in order to get back to Eden to live on top of the world
there are a few things from God which need to be heard
here in America in the democratic land of milk and honey
African-Americans are disproportionate when it comes to power and money
our healthcare is poorer, our finances worse, few of us in seats of power
at the bottom of most demographic indicators and our circumstances diminish by the hour
the most unemployed, the most discriminated, the first to be laid-off or dismissed
more of us in jail, a lot of us illiterate, there are too many problems for me to list
fewer marketable skills, fewest high school diplomas and don't mention college degrees
African-American men in America need to take off their blinders and see
to those who stand behind stained-glass windows and look down on those who have less
you need to take your brothers back to Eden and put an end to all this mess
you might not comprehend their reality but you should attempt to understand
that as true servants of God you should help your fellow man
if you consider yourself to be a true disciple of Christ
what have you done to enrich someone else's life?
who did you clothe? who did you feed?
who did you minister to in their time of need?
who did you mentor to on how to be a man?
who did you talk to or stretch out your hand?
there's a lot of work that needs to be done to get our brothers inspired
we need to help them build a relationship with God and do as Jesus aspired
in order to get back to Eden we need to start at the very beginning
with the basic instructions that God is recommending
to fellowship with your fellow man
to develop a trust opposite to slavery's plan
to communicate with positivity
to no longer promote negativity
to pull up your pants and walk like a man
to be productive and not destructive
to be supportive and not abortive
to act like someone's father and not like you're being bothered
to teach our brothers to put down the guns and take up the cross
so they will no longer act like thugs but to think like a boss
no longer will we be divided with jealous envy
now united as brothers under God's authority
getting back to Eden to be on top of the world
to living our lives according to God's Holy word
to get back to Eden and up from the basement of life
living on top of the world as brothers with our savior Jesus Christ
Categories:
abortive, black african american, brother,
Form:
Didactic
A MIND SEEKING REVENGE
IS LIKE A PRISONER WITH NO JUSTICE
IT WON’T TAKE ANY RESPONSIBILITY FOR ITS ACTIONS
FOR IT WILL PLOT AN ILLEGAL PLAN OF DESTRUCTIVE EVIL
IT WILL FORSAKE AND TERRORIZE ANY SIGHN OF A CONSCIENCE
IT WILL FORBID ANY FORCE OF INSANITY
AND WILL BARRICADE ITS TEARS
ITS DARKNESS IS INEVITABLE
IT WIL BECOME ABORTIVE
IT WILL FLAUNT ITS FALSE EMOTIONS
BUT IT WILL EXTIRPATE ITS PLAN
AND IT WOULD LEAD TO A GRIDLOCK
THE MIND WOULD THEN HAVE HYPOCHONDRIA
IT CHOSE ITS KISMET
BUT IT STILL HAS A PLAN TO LYNCH SOMEONE
BUT IT WILL THEN MARTYR
THE MIND SEEKING REVENGE IS NOW NOXIOUS
AND OVERPOWERING
IT’S SLAPDASH
BUT A TYRO IN ITS NEXT SCHEME
IT WILL JAB THROUGH ITS CARELESS THOUGHTS
BUT IN THE END IT WILL HAVE A FEELING,
A FEELING OF PIQUE
AND IT WILL RUMINATE OF ITS DEEDS
Categories:
abortive, sad
Form:
From the heart of green naïve village
surrounded by corps field, mosque, ponds,
ancestral grave yard, school, college,
madrasah (islamic school) etc he is
brothers, sisters with parents, a beautiful family
with relatives, neighbors he had
learned person he was, full memorizer of
the Holy Quran and institutional study was 10th grade
but dreams touched his eyes, his breaths, his veins
the dream in the hollow eyeballs of him
flaring dreams have been gathered in his sight
dreams touched his ideality, his mediocrity, his learning
against the holy verse
dreams touched him inseparably
dreams touched him within vain clothing
dreams touched him within flirting industrialist mind
dreams touched him within merciless sky scraper building
dreams touched him within fake benevolent charity right hand
dreams touched him abortive assurance giving to others in generosity smiling
dreams made him blind to the path of income
small income once made up him happy with family and relatives
but leaving small, come to big on the lame stretchers dreamy boat
he did not understand- dreams in lazy hands is
misfortunate hell for upcoming every steps
dreams made him luxurious ambitious as
the begging bag before learning how to beg
dreams made him laughter in garrulous argument
as happiness of billionaire under torn blanket
in biting cold winter dreamy night
dream made him foolish dandy in business world
as Xerox machines copying activities
which has no personality to make another root
to survive with it as parasite
dreams made him passerby the dark path
dreams made him lonely walker
dreams made him lonely resident on title-less building of hill view
dreams made him unknown religious in the eye view of unfamiliar him
dreams made him a dark horse in flattering broker world
dreams made him hilarious land lord in his verbose copying documents
dreams made him a beggar in heavenly real eyes of the sun,
crystalline day approved him he was dreamer only
from the dreams he made his journey to be great
benevolent helper of relatives and neighbors
he was dreamer but in paralyzed bone and indolent veins
and this dream awakens him in tears of mysterious death
(Written on my Maternal Uncle Hafez Abdul Allam 4th July 1962-29th July 2018, who was inactive but great dreamer, but sudden death of him makes us heart rending cry)
Categories:
abortive, sorrow,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Apocalypse---
Abortive gorgons cling.
Political messiahs creep.
Other dystopias eschew.
Called messiahs lament.
American messiahs laze.
Lyrical raptures luxuriate.
Youthful doomsayers linger.
Private revelations lurk.
Startling revelations cower.
Environmental catastrophes cavort.
3/8/19
Written by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019
Categories:
abortive, assonance, community, conflict, corruption,
Form:
Acrostic
No deeply rooted history,
nor implied ordered liberty,
abortion, gutted like a trout,
dismembered, lies there, bleeding out.
Hyperbole is through the roof,
a million times more fun than truth,
and so all things report as true;
they’re coming for gay marriage, too.
The court is not deciding fates;
that can is kicked back to the states.
Now each will rank on published lists:
abortive destination trips.
Chasm widens on the issue:
right to life or useless tissue.
More than ever, we decide
to separate and to divide.
Pro-life Christians must up their game,
not being pro-life just in name.
This is a war, if one will dare,
‘gainst darker forces in the air.
Though victory, hard-fought, was won,
this, a mere skirmish, not that one.
Though joined to us in life and pain,
till His return, work still remains.
With hope, we see a foretaste grand
of life preserved throughout the land.
He is our motivating force,
so we press on, we stay the course.
Categories:
abortive, life,
Form:
Rhyme
We are indebted seriously
To all free spouts covered
Whose nozzles hardly suspire
And hanged up to rest in subsequent sighs
But keep hoping the wait be over soon
We are indebted seriously
To all hands withheld from howdy to observe
Social distance relations it doesn't admire
As we do wanting to draw the heaven nigh
But only with words, most people reach for the moon
We are indebted forever
To the lives lost to Corona virus
That are most likely to have been saved
For more grace to sail in the boat of life
But to no avail, all efforts proved abortive
We are indebted forever
To the streets littered with corpses
Of the less privileged burnt as offerings
In fear not to spread the virus
But in surprise, the rich were given befitting burials
We are indebted forever
To the health personnel
Who lost their lives
Trying to save others' lives in duty
But beyond aid, they crossed the bar
We are indebted forever
To the press reporters
Spreading information and saving lives
Reaching out to audiences in risk
But for honor, they were not awarded
We are indebted forever
To those who lost their jobs to pandemic
And couldn't find another means of survival
Than to watch their lives in the hand of hunger
But for hope, it was just hoping for the uncertain
We are indebted forever
To those that died of hunger
Whose death was recorded as corona death
So as to make numbers and headlines
But while starving, nothing much came through...
We are indebted forever
To the stage of earth
And nature's reaction
Beyond science research
That no vaccine ideally set us free
We are indebted forever
To the kind hearted men
Who did give away in abundance
Than the societies less expected
In secret that sorrows flee many houses
Happy survival!
To all who God's grace kept
From the touch of Corona
And still breathe
Without trouble in healthy system
We can not do this forever
Crying for love, for hatred, for death
And forget the sick Rose and the healthy night
For peace ahead of us in regret
Wandering lonely as a thick cloud
In the eyes of time traveling through the clock
Where end is not ascertained like the blast of waterfall
When... when shall we gladly go
For cheers, for gaze and for praise
That are ceased up in Corona's craziness?
Categories:
abortive, art, dedication, funeral, god,
Form:
Rhyme
Tasseled Dreams
The thought of the future we will never have was pollinating foul fuzzy particles in the air,
slowly following the wake of all those tasseled dreams I held onto to for far too long.
The most intimate revelations can often expose plagiaristic suppressions that we’ve most likely,
have already tried to to forget; suggesting to anyone on the outside looking in,
That there was a rancid cowardice secreting from the pores of all those who would deny the most basic of fundamental decencies to he equal fellow man.
All the while,
Boasting a loud tolerance that would be found falling with the last fleeing fall. . .
The very last of colorful arrangements made of watering oranges and bleeding reds,
Falling from all trees never to be seen to fall again.
The thundering drumming of my own heartbeat gave my freshly dead and over bland reactions,
A new sparkling neon personality.
But there are always those few extra fingering, lingering, successful hand gestures reflecting a prism of tracers-birthed from the most brilliant lasers, radiating something blindly gorgeous that could heighten with more sensitivity.
Shadowing over the complexity of every kiss that I had ever been given in my entire night.
Spinning a silk and gold web all around me,
That was more intricate than a disastrous earthquake.
This flaccidly tight response came at a price,
Leaving nothing but whispers and the wrong kind of impressions.
The time for Dignity and Grace were long gone and felt decades away.
Your tiny little temperaments helped with attempted to soothe me into a very still silence.
Wooing me..
Seducing me..
with such a strong touch of Romantic Readiness…
I no longer knew how to say the word “No”
Causing a stroke of sadness pass through me at the single sentiment.
This dramatic departure killed any interest that might have supported the abortive sorrows and short winded elations of men attempting to market a profit off their own Tasseled Dreams.
Categories:
abortive, desire, future, inspirational love,
Form:
Prose Poetry