Best Abscess Poems
Love implodes
I see only the brightness and beauty
Of her eyes
Golden hairs,
I am envious to caress her sun rays
As I discover the universe,
Thrusting into the abscess of loves black hole
The void of loves creation begins again
Notes: This poem was inspired by a recent poem here in soup, as a kinda contest, guess who that poet and poem is, and win first prize, if 100 guess the right answer, guess what, thats 100 first prizes!!!!!
Fingertips click a
desperate breakbeat
as eyes glaze over
in blue light baptism
please overwhelm me
Binary jungle,
you glowing cesspit
through the clipping
curtain echoes a choir
of post-post ironic
agoraphobics.
Dopamine is a myth,
an expired meme
deemed mega cringe
Let the file rot into
informational abscess
Here we all wait before
Heaven's blockchained gate
tired of partaking into
a satire so removed from
a cogent solution,
It is simply void.
Here is coldest oblivion in
this stupid cyborg machine,
but the world is so
Y2K heat death-core
Whatever that means
It turned a generation
made us abandonware
Just to feed us nostalgia
for times when we
would bother to care.
are we crazy or just contrived
lazy or simply self-involved?
are we insignificant, significant
or just like everyone else
deranged on the outside
swimming through dead oceans in our heads
am i death or am i over-simplified
is my breath as thick as the painted eye lashes
that stick to your eyes?
are you in love with your anemia
or anemic to love
breathing came so easy
now you're lucky to get one
mouthful
forever in ruins or ruined to become
pinned to pages or pinned under thumb
like the bleeding nape of a baby
thorough true to yourself
under circumstance we are death-like
only because we know we can
the heart
like a thick abscess of black mucus
pumping sweet death to all who may ask
now clogged with regret
regret for the living
regret for the loving
love of anemia
anemia of love
Winter nights, the darkness comes quick
Key in door, to an empty house
Jacket falls fast right on the floor
I stare at the stand, at the telephone for sure
There she sits, alone, unmoving
No blinking light
No message at all
From a lovers voice or even a call from the mall
The ritual is the same, night after night
I pick up the phone, yes dial tone is there
I check the wires, all attached with great care
Its not broken, same as this morning
I confess, yes I stare at the phone over there
The phone is a functioning, I am assured
I call the weather line, yes a test but I was bored
They tell me is all sunny up over yonder
So no one calls me, of this I must ponder
I confess yes I stare, at the dark phone sitting there
Maybe the answering system parts are malfunctioning
Maybe she really did some exotic oh calling
Oh what I am saying, she’s out to the ball
While I look at telephone, alone in the hall
I confess yes I stare, I stare and stare
So another night, outside shines the bright city lights
I open the door to the darkness in fright
For oh my god, I see a blinking light
My heart beats in excitement, this is surely the night
I stare at a ringing telephone
Oh my what a delight!!!!!!!!
Click
Wrong number
Now I am distressed, depressed, redressed
I am at my wits end I must confess
Another evening I sit here alone
Just me and my silent old black phone
I stare a that contraption then the abscess of the night
Like all of the nights in 2014
I will sleep in a bed, with no hug or ice-cream
The pleasures of life, belong not to me
Me and my phone will never be set free
So now it’s New Years Eve, party hat and good cheer
I sit alone with my phone, to ring in the New Year
Oh the irony yes I did see
For the phone is as silent as the heart inside me
I stare at the past; I stare at the wall
Where I contemplate tossing the phone, cord and all
Then it rings, and shocks me out of my trance
2015 has arrived with a telephone call!!!!! so happy I dance!!!!
Cause this time she called, god bless romance
Happy New Year
No bull in the proverbial china shop
but of the astrological skies
you’d ride bareback upon the animal
assured by its strength and muscular form
Ruled by Venus and of the second house
A feminine introvert or negative sign
A lover of all things nature and natural
Earth, loyal and faithful but needs stability
Although stubborn enough to charge at one disturbing the peace
Fulfilling the senses with beauty
Neck and throat sensitive and strong (aim affection here!)
Homely content, liking the comforts of life
Attracted to material things in simplest form
although from senses – tactile or pleasing to eye
Naturally practical likes comfortable space for home and work
Food clothes music and linen of importance
for ‘things’ are of value, money and those not materialistic
Sensation more important than feelings and thought
A Taurean can appear boring to others
Practical and sensible in approach
Basing life on the real not imagined
Not willing to take unecessary risk
nor put foundations that are solid in jeopardy
Happy with stability and simplicity so long as functional
Not to be distracted and not exceptionally clever
You get to where you want to be through determination
Always needing the tools to get back to basics and build
A feminine introvert or negative sign
Life is good, ruled by Venus sensual and simple
In Venus Taurus is about physical and idealistic love, arts and beauty
Patient, reliable warmhearted and caring nature
One determined and persistant, a creative, placid creature
Needs watch health especially throat, repiratory, abscess and rheumatism
Stubborness and inflexibility can sometimes be issue
Possessive and relentlessness yet loving
Law abiding and somewhat hostile with change
Witty and practical, faithful and generous to friends
More than averagely loving and very self-conscious
Fixed in opinion down to experience and acceptable patterns
Steadfast, just and firm when faced with difficulty
These are not afraid of dirty hands nor shy of hard work
At best in positions of trust and responsibility
Strength is sensible outlook on life
Weakness of being unable to accept less than you can achieve
Seeing is believing
and because the feet are firmly on the ground
others will come to this sign for advice
as they plod along taking only what is needed to survive
Tired of explaining (a twist from ND. poem)
Ignoring the presence of my stillness==
As you walk with bitterness==
Your radiance is no longer true==
A melody with seduction over due==
The song so bad wiped out by you==
Rotating my abdomen==
From the soul==
The worms inside==
They all die==
Under your control==
Separating the way==
Is as if though==
All the beauty in the world==
Up and lived==
You are more than I need==
Drowning in my own abyss==
Judging you one==
Right after the other==
A hellish so profound==
Revelations passed so suddenly==
Expression of limbo, I replay==
The revenge==
The revoke==
Suffer catting my oxygen==
They illness==
Then lifeless==
They identify==
Then disgust==
Never play the sensitive==
Feel my needs==
Like the wound full of abscess==
A sore to never go away==
Yes like the illness==
Then lifeless==
Dropped addict==
These shivers down my spine==
Identify, escape, abuse of certain==
Announcing it even more==
Proof that I am found==
Out of love==
The mind finally receives==
Revolution with open eyes==
The heart is trapped to proceed==
Cleverer than the open skies==
Old sweat glands in my hand==
Retiring the mind==
The best of my heart has no stand==
Died from your retrieving cries==
Advancing to my knowledge==
The darkness that you lend==
DISCLOSURE==
to==
In the depth of your eyes ==
I run before you hypnotize==
Oblivious to the Valley of your wits==
Refusing to relive the song==
Feeling that are gone==
Never will it feel right==
I still feel the rotation==
Exhale went out your soul==
Exiting far from sight==
Revoke an end to your light==
A kiss of death to your good night==
A kiss of death to your good night==
(To: Nathan Dilts my way of explaining love over due)
Entwined in a lovers sweat
Passions sated, as a cool breeze
Brings in the scent of the night
Tongues tasting of wine, fully satisfied
Eternal happiness, could this be?
Or should I run under gloomy tormented skies?
Hand in hand we traveled, across the fields of love
Into historié
Sur le pont d’Avignon
We danced the night away
Round and round did we go
Our love fell into the Rhone
Devotion seemed a certainty
Love was passions muse
Broken, life fell in the abscess of my demise
All I truly desired, left sur le pont
The battle of Avignon left me defeated
As my memories fade, melancholy recalls to me
The kiss that never was
Meant to last
Have you ever heard of a heart
Once accepting of love, now coldly distant?
Once pristine, now tainted with distrust
And full of gunk inside?
Now, it's unsure of itself,
Playing it safe after being torn in half
One too many times, fearing yet another
Dose of misfortune's poison pill.
Now afraid to unlock its door
And leave it ajar for love to walk back in.
May courage be a healing knife
That doctors this poor heart
May unconditional love
Dissect it, drain its abscess,
Then, stitch it shut as a tailor
Would a split seam.
Date posted: 04/02/2016
I can churn stomachs, with a stench of truth
An abscess filled with maggots, pus profuse
As I feed off gunk, new nerve ends take root
Raw language in my words, not gross abuse
Yes! I am disgust, old wounds fear my fruit
To late for contest
Feeling I got so doubtless
Which absorb me as delicious
Which I belief one can't do sans
It has helped me a lot of times
Passion for progress
How would success comes one's means
Sans this feeling so immense
How would one pursue great things
Sans this feelings so immense
Outweigh only inflicts mind and sense
Which might spit venomous abscess
As the Mozanbique spits its
Venom. I greedily read some poets
who their works seem voluptuous
As cute stuffs in elegant dresses
Which often drag me to put more effects
Upon my process
Passion is a stimulant that empowers or gears
A person toward great things
Of this Mother earth and of Holy place
However it depends on how its get one's hands.
9/8/2015
Note: for a person to have the right hand of the Might or the other, he needs passion to imitate either HIS Prophets deeds or other prophets.
Silent words and invisible smiles now,
Rule the tiny world under your dark cowl,
Teach its people to fear you, it's success!
Drain all the pus from this horrid abscess!
The heart is a weak fool, pay it no mind,
It cannot rescue you while in a bind,
Obey, listen and don't incite any waves,
You'll only rise to power when you're slaves.
Accept things as they are and move on, boys
Blind your eyes and be drunk on my bright toys
Be loyal in exchange for pasty pearls,
Who are you to change this nightmarish world?
This is the only way to build a nation,
You cannot win against my tradition.
Tom Thumb, with split ears and abscess,
came to us on an autumn night.
A feline atlas with alley hard shoulders,
but a calm, cool warrior nonetheless.
Named for his Hemingway mittens,
an irony of bulk to literary lore,
for he surely would make a short meal
of a murine steed fit for a King’s jester.
His years of wrangling had earned him,
A craggy pelt of scars under a crooked halo,
all wrapped up in a ripe orange hirsute fleece.
There was something about that gnarled old pumpkin,
that found our hearts warm and happy to have him.
Though his life had been hard, he was quick to find
my Mother’s lap to be a very restful place.
Dear Tom spent the better part of a decade in our home.
The years of ease softened his shoulders,
and hastened his purr, though he still had *****.
The leaves of autumn learned to be weary of old Tom,
for he would shred on sight, the first leaf to fall.
As the years passed, the warmth of the sun,
found more often, Tom sitting with closed eyes,
enjoying the feel of his crimson fur.
Until an afternoon, late in the harvest season,
poor old Tom had been sick.
He sat proud in the sun for one last long sun bath,
warm as our hearts between his apricot strips.
Bast came for her brother the very next day,
to fetch him off to the land that never forgets.
“Fare-the-well dear Tom and may the autumn leaves,
suffer your claws for as long as the sun never sets.”
I fell asleep in my chair
I awoke and a room full of smiling women
Looked at me
With Death’s Stare
I asked myself
Am I dreaming?
What are these women scheming?
I fear my mind these women soon will be reaming
What made me dream this way?
My boss yelled at me today
Too much work stress
My brain abscess
Heart and soul in distress
I heard on TV there are more men than women
Women dying and killed in record numbers
Female Final Slumber
Male Violence
Men creating
Female Silence
I looked back at the Cabal of Ladies
I fear I have a room at
The Hotel Hades
Their smiles gone
The room suddenly burst into flames
The women screamed out in pain
Their anguished cries driving me insane
I fell to my knees
I begged them for a Quick Death
They said after I listen to how they all died
Maybe then I could take my last breath
One was stoned
One was beheaded
One was strangled
One was burnt alive
One was led to a cliff and forced to dive
She did not survive
There is no Honor in killing
All the women committed the same sin
Wanting to be free
Male driven Female Genocide for centuries
Still going on
Way too long
All the men swore to love and protect these women
Fathers, Husbands, Brothers, Sons, Friends and Lovers all lied
Allah Cried
Love Denied
Evil dark music filled the room
Flames Rising
Tribal Trance Treat
Tantric Drum Beat
The women danced
I was entranced
Satan and Jesus
Came in the room
They approached the women
And both told The Flock they are
The One
Follow me to Eternal Fun
All the women laughed and turned away
From their Saviour
These women no longer crave
Male Behaviour
Then out of the Flames
I was approached by
The Head Dame
My Dead Mother aflame
Smoldering in front of me
My Beloved Mother said to me
Son you don’t have much time
It’s true you never committed female crime
You never got out of line
Why don’t you write a rhyme
Tell all men of future women yet to come
They need to be free
And will not be Men’s Property
These unborn women will demand to experience life
Free from Male Strife
And be warned
If Male Violence continues against women
And Men refuse to change
Then one day all the women will be gone
They will refuse to be born
Men will no longer be turned on
This will signal
Man’s Final Dawn
Depression you have Become My Obsession©
Depression you have become my obsession of every waking moment
and oft while I sleep which is never too deep
You threw my marriage under thy carriage
and the carnage dost continue to this day I dare say.
Cloudy days bring you hither to my door and with them
mayhem that underscore how I dread thee all the more
You have taken me to thy brink such that I can no longer think
clear thoughts to lead the way to that better day
Taking pills is no thrill and makes my head fill with shrill
to avoid those awful thoughts that may end up to mine own kill
At my own hands no less, what a royal mess
is there anyone can who can bless me of this abscess
So I cower in the dark and harkens back to the good ole days
when then things were cheery with my deary
Those times when a hug and a squeeze be the cure
and sweet Louise that was for sure
Now, I must be patient or my physicians will makest me a patient be
and sit idly by as they apply their best effort...
To make me whole again
Andreas Simic©
PACKING BABIES
packing babies
like sick vats
vases of acid
open an abscess
I watch…
as a million
people run into
their thin papery
nowhere lands
safe
without stains
on their
fluorescent
fairytale
brains
© Kim van Breda—2 November 2015