Best Alienating Poems

There has to be another way
      cause I fear staying will only break me quicker
        I'll snap like a twig 
            therefore...

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I won't pick out one special Poetry Soup poet
None of us are worthy of being a poet Laureate
Choosing just one who has skills shouldn't be a goal
It's like separating a favorite sheep from the foal
Saying its wool has the most beautiful fleece
doesn't seem to be...

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"Dead leaves lay still, even the last flower is withered: yet there is a beauty in decayed imperfection." Taken from a quote by _Constance La France

On an orbital rotation around our planet every day, nothing stays the same. We change our surroundings change, our thoughts...

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"An X-Mess Carol"

Somewhere standing barefoot
in the sand, she thought with guilty pleasure
“This is the KORO SEA!” and
conjured up a multitude of story scenarios
Buccaneers, Pirates Parlay, Treasure Maps, 
Davy Jones Locker, Jack Sparrow, Ho’es
you know, those 
childhood things
and for a short hit, guilty pleasure
then the tide...

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safe haven for poets once existed
till destructive forces came on board
those who seek just to hurt others
end up harming themselves

several such people have inflicted pain here
though no one would call them “writers”
juvenile antics and hateful comments
are their only legacies

through profanity and threats
digging holes to poetry’s...

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He's running out of Colour.
                   *eternity eternal mind over matter 
        *He forms combative images of daffodils and lilac hedges

The...

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The streets of yesterday, comforting
   The landscape of tomorrow, forbidding  

Familiar foods rouse fond memories
   Tampering with tradition, disapproval

My well-worn armchair's form-fitted to me
   That new recliner, stiff as a bad knee

Your scent, your aura, ingratiating
  ...

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Like a tree in spring
                                        ...

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A prom date led me to an enchanted time
when you tenderly grasped my hand
and nestled me closer around your waist,
rendering breath and heart to pulsate
in flickers of eyes drawn like hazy moths.

The hours whirled in young love’s surrender…
entwined by rhythms of autumn flames
that I yielded...

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Adam, take the dust and
blow into tomorrow's winter world
the intruding consciousness
is evolving, embroiling a vainity of values,
who are we now, why this
language of redemption ?
the truth hurts once we
were exhiled from God's perfect garden,
the roads behind are
cold and alone, its you and me against the...

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I have created the coldest place of despicable solitude,
keeping the joyful words locked in a mind of loneliness;
ah, they never were spoken to reach another altitude...
thoughts tossed to a storm unable to free themselves! 

This beautiful friendship deserved much more,
I didn't lift it higher than...

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David Holmgren
a seminal PermaCultural Designer,
if there ever has become one,
suggests most people throughout Earth
in this age of globally interdependent communication
feel we have one foot planted
in our original local community/family culture,
and the other foot planted in a more comprehensively dominant
economic and political and sociological culture;
but also...

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Seeing their hustle is dorsal and prismatic,
Smoking and drinking acclimated with optimistic, 
Trading on drugs for survival...Baron my title,
Yield to my subjects,
Robbed billonaires of their earthly mantle,
High at sects,
Placing daily bread on candle,
Caring for windows,orphans and homeless,
Lives don't need to be in grant of being...

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Have you asked yourself...

How do I percieve the world,
what is object reality?

What are these sources
of abject identity,
alienating values which
further seperate sensible unity...
significant to whom and what,
obligatory to how and when,
the free spirit of autonomy versus,
past bondage and expectation...

What is the subject matter,
of objectifying principles...
differing as...

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O, yes, he is exclusively competent
as the national leader
that tightly compatible and coherent
with his time and national traditions. 
He had done all for  the rise our stupid ambition 
and blind glory, post-soviet  and post-tsarists illusions 
as the perfect relict from past and wild...

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