Best Bludgeoning Poems
All you do
All you say
All you write
In the jasmine garden
Is a frenzied drum
Bludgeoning me to dumb
Intensely numb
I feel
As I reel
Yes
As you come
Rising on tides
Passion overflowing
Deluge in the veins
In a hurricane
You dominate
You violate
You annihilate
My stability
My balance
My tranquility
My nonchalance
You seek to
Sweep me off my feet
I resist
To be devastatingly kissed
Who does want
A plundered restaurant
I hold breath
But you hit underneath
With your tremendous vigour
A wild rigour
Breaking all norm
Of rhythm and form
You become
The fierce Atlantic storm
From head to toe
Fast or slow
Everything you claim
You monster hurricane
In a primitive joy
You destroy
Spears and arrows you employ
Pull down and enjoy
In a poor coordination
I reach my limitation
And surrender
Before your violence
And horror
Frantically you tear
All the roses there
The tendrils of hair
The hymns of prayer
Whether in Florida
Or in Miami
Riding on reckless liberty
Everywhere the same misery
Either Katrina or Irene
Harvey or Irma
The same surging ocean
The same commotion
You flood me with
I groan beneath
I have to writhe
And wriggle as fiercely you breathe
Well now as you are quieted
Having deconstructed
All my emotions
Are now back to the ocean
Give me your resilience
The ocean’s brilliance
Let me reconstruct and create
My new cup and chocolate
My balance
In the new circumstance
In future if you need to come
Come with tribal drum
Played by striking with sticks
In the nerves crimson kicks
Come in drizzling ice and gentle rains
Not in tornadoes and hurricanes
Please …
Categories:
bludgeoning, anger, angst, hope, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
oh. dear. gawd.
another patently
meaningless
crush of stanzas, jam-packed with
adjectives and color words
straight from Roget's,
strung together in
strands of misuse and
improper context -
syntax-scraping adverbs and
prepositions dangled
at inhuman angles,
rushing in torrents to a
head-scratching conclusion that
leaves lips numb and dripping clear liquid,
fingers combing deep the
strands to tear out in horrid disbelief,
jaws left agape in
utter confusion and
hopelessness ...
it all settles like
brick-heavy clay in
the gut, that this vile destruction of
the English language and
its artistic forms -
this uneducated and
brutal bludgeoning of phraseology -
words replaced
willy-nilly by thesaurus-crazed maniacs,
(all for the sake of
impressing the masses
who don't know the difference),
is garnering dozens of
enthralled ignorance-is-bliss
comments, and placing
first in
contest-after-contest!!
how could any sane,
serious weaver of words
NOT want to blow
their freaking brains out?!?
the coronavirus pandemic
has been NOTHING
compared to the sickening
misuse of words
that flows on-and-on from public
poetry sites in crushing
waves of feigned
eloquence and verbal vivisection ...
could it be, perhaps,
that the circle writing ISN'T inane,
but rather a strangled striving
for the breadth of
non-linear orthography??
welcome to the
ultimate zero sum game -
the mangy monkey in the monkey
puzzle tree,
Schroedinger's kitty,
skinned and nailed to the barn house ...
fan-freaking-tastic ...
let's kill this clairvoyant clown,
quickly ... quietly ...
cuz ...
it. never. ends.
(lack of proper punctuation and capitalization very intentional)
Categories:
bludgeoning, angst, conflict, fun, metaphor,
Form:
Free verse
Onward Christian Soldiers
(Chivalry Dead)
God’s crusade upon them laid
a stubborn suit of mail brocade.
Knights Templar, Teutonic thugs
Mercenaries out for blood.
In guarantee of resurrection.
Skull bludgeoning insurrection.
For every heathen to the cemetery
Pope so grants indulgence plenary.
Urban calls to cut out “sin.”
with war for Jesus, champion.
Death to every infidel.
Damn them all to endless hell.
Allah-backed brave Saladin
“Jihad” shouts Islamic paladin
Jerusalem. Jerusalem.
Devastated paragon.
Kathy Collins
1/31/14
Categories:
bludgeoning,
Form:
Rhyme
My mind opened releasing the remnants of Pandora’s Box
Revealing the wraths of a complete paradox
Eradicating the thought process like a mental massacre
Destroying your clarity until your notions are obscure
Slaughtering your expressions, total annihilation
Bludgeoning your lines, poetic eradication
Devouring your preconception, with utter devastation
Eliminating your disposition, enlightened extermination
Butchering your reason with a brutal bloodbath
Lyrics linger in limbo lost in the aftermath
Slaying your insight with catastrophic rhymes
Conscious collapsin' corpses fallin' with the times
A war of words, our philosophies collide
Verses fall victim to a vicious verbal genocide
Categories:
bludgeoning, slam,
Form:
Rhyme
when autumn’s last but long exhale
left mists of winter in its trail
her thoughts turned to the past to look
at greenway and the paths she took
where reading signs inside her skies
she'd dream up deaths and alibis
along the short cuts through the wood
with thoughts of stabbings and of blood
while fungi often made her think
of slipping coniine inside drink
then with the breathless views behind
a choking often came to mind
though with the river dart in view
her thoughts would turn to drowning too
and passing by the greenway bell *
she'd sound out bludgeoning as well
then muse once at the greenway gates
of ordeals, follies, pigs and fêtes **
before she'd vanish through her door
to ‘kill’ some time and write some more.
* The Greenway Bell:
A bell on the quay of The River Dart in Devon, England that can be rung to let the ferry (a local passenger launch) know that you are there waiting to cross.
** References to the three stories written by Mrs Mallowan (Agatha Christie) that were inspired by her holiday home of Greenway:
Dead Man's Folly (a fête is featured)
Five Little Pigs
Ordeal by Innocence
Categories:
bludgeoning, adventure, murder, mystery,
Form:
Rhyme
When dulled down shock painfully became
a pickaxe ache behind shimmering eyes,
the bludgeoning screen hammered memory cells
repeatedly, over and over.
Tears exploded, soft rain dampened flame,
the grumbling dust cloud debris disguised
broken hearts bursting in agonised swells
searching for life confirmation.
Crashed vultures, evil in senseless flight,
beating humanity for hours like a drum,
cramping the breath with holocaust claws,
gleefully gloating, gloating.
Yet humanity does not die in the night,
by the warped wicked ways of fanatical scum,
humanity fades not, nor crawls on all fours
the prey of abomination.
Could Hitler pulverise humanity dead,
could Stalin annihilate it's very soul,
could Hussein defile it's essence to dust,
could they, hell.
It arises from rubble and ashes instead,
steel resurrection, reassembled whole,
in the love and pride of people it must
elicit restoration.
Beneath the veil of despair-crippled night
a broken city seethed neon 'till morning,
mortal wounds blazed and shone in rebirth,
defiantly living, living.
And hope prevailed in each bulb burning bright,
in each filament, tube, each spark a new dawning
of all that Heaven allows on Earth,
a prayer-shot inspiration.
The carnage of angels bedazzled with pain,
yet the courage and conscience of saints empowered
a neon-lit love of brother for brother,
a blinding, blinding sight.
From sorrow and sacrilege raining again
humanity's wonder, upon them was showered
the love of the brave and the just for each other
that they become the light.
Categories:
bludgeoning, death, history, people, uplifting,
Form:
Verse
There's a viscerally vial creature loosed,
Which is heinously hideous and vicious.
This barbarian monstrosity destroys people's vitality and flesh,
By raping and pillaging their lives,
Killing and ravaging entire families and villages,
Forever cursing all those it consumes.
I've taken up armament against this enemy,
Vowing an oath to eradicate this foe.
I wage continued war on this unholy vile behemoth,
Thrusting my dagger through its abdomen,
Ripping and slashing its bowels,
But it shrugs off the assault undeterred.
I shoot arrows through its heart,
Only to realize tis useless as no heart exists.
I take my sword and behead the beast,
But like Hydra, it restores its venomous crown.
I hack off its limbs chopping flesh and bone,
But it slithers demonically onward.
I gouge out its eyes blinding it from finding victims,
But it smells weakness, fear, and depression,
And tracks its quarry like a bloodhound.
I smash out its treacherous bloodthirsty teeth,
But it mauls its prey bludgeoning it mercilessly,
Slowly but surely till it's powerless.
I wrestle it and break it's back so it's paralyzed,
But its grotesque distorted mangled body trudges forward unhindered.
Nothing I do stops this devastating onslaught,
And I relinquish my battle and succumb unwillingly to this curse.
Destined to be enslaved to this ruthless foe forever.
Left helpless to struggle until I die,
Fighting with my own sins.
Categories:
bludgeoning, sin,
Form:
Free verse
skirted, wind blown from afar
I was not to be late for the affair
bells struck midnight
and there were two left in in the square
twelve strokes to signal we were there
we circled right
looking for a place to disappear
tongues tendered to the herd
we kissed
my bones bent to your will
it was late
stars begged us to stay
the moon in her blushed
less than casual rose state
checking out as clouds ruffled by
we were high
and you, smokin'
like you always do
the time, the place, the memory
the face
fingers dancing as we knew the end
much more than the beginning
heartbeats pausing
pleasing, my ears
romance, encapsuled
in the singing
desire, a choir of one
and we won
thirty beats, pulsating
blood in-between the bludgeoning
a sense of belonging
longing for days to never come
nights slashing through the dark
butchering arms
grasping
charred, bodies
steam
whistling as she walks away
Categories:
bludgeoning, art, smart,
Form:
Burlesque
This is the hard sense of it
The mythic falls apart
No Bojangle character in the story
The postmodern drama
Unfolds a new tragedy
I can hardly believe this was so deliberate
Yet no one saw the plunge into realism
Would do this
Would do this
And do it again deeper and deeper
Excoriating us
But in the sense of a morbid murderer
Bludgeoning to death our faith
Behind the concrete dimensions of space-time
Did they not understand
Did they not even think about it
For something else in us must have snapped
Before we took the stage and flopped
O it does not matter to you I see
You just like your poetry clean like a child's diaper
I just want the bond to hold between the child and I
This society will not know peace alone by that though
Man must believe in what he cannot see
To conform to the rigors of authority
Or else what else
Can coerce the sundering of individual will
If the mythic is dead
Should I tell them
That without the mythic we are dead
There is so much and so little
Realism can do for us
I think the modern focus is the debit's
Excessive show of losing habit
It is how we cipher even the spiritual
When nothing is left after
The mythic is dead.
Categories:
bludgeoning, philosophy, myth,
Form:
Free verse
An arrow pierced my beating heart
While deep in rapt repose;
Waking me from my memories
Of Milvian Bridge I suppose.
It struck straight in my aorta
Bludgeoning me to death;
Until I woke up sweetly praying
Underneath my dying breath.
I could hear the shouts of anguish
Desolation, mortal pain;
Brought upon us one and all
From our great king, Constantine.
Who came to fight Maxentious,
Roman Emperor of renown;
The lines were drawn and dies were cast:
Brave men were going down.
We forty thousand troops from Gaul
Headed straight away towards Rome;
And when we reached the River Tiber
A flaming cross was shown.
High up in the royal rafters where
The Savior rose from His grave,
Our king declared allegiance there
And Christianity was made.
While we fought like men and brothers
Bleeding buckets to the bones;
And when the fight was finally over
My thoughts returned to home.
All in my sweet slumber
While waking from this dream;
An arrow pierced my beating heart
Once again, or so it seems.
Categories:
bludgeoning, history, me, men,
Form:
Rhyme
Feel the smoothness, wonder at the skill.
These delicate carved ornaments of delight
Pure white to a faint tan, each piece unique
To touch, to feel, brings senses alight
Priceless the gift, expert the hand
That carves these magical pieces
Priceless they are this bloody band
As their lust for money increases
“One of the most insidious forms
Of criminality in the world today”**
As nature is raped, tattered and torn
For animal kind, just fey.
A tusk for a gun, a gun another tusk
For a nose bleed and fever the cure ivory dust
Let’s kill an elephant for its ivory teeth
Kill a rhino for its horn for those that lust.
Who pays the price, the rhino, the elephant
The ignorant turn away should they even care
The wallets grow fat for the bloody decadent.
There will be no animals for grandchildren to stare.
Butchery bludgeoning death and decay
Over 90 thousand elephants annually bought to dust
Vultures strip elephant flesh, none keeps them at bay
Another gun, more coin to fill the poacher’s lust
The poachers hoard money with bloodthirsty delight
The sea of blood stains the land crimson red
White gold, blood lust, for this the amoral fight
For tusks and horn their money lust is fed.
© Amanda Tams 10/12/2014
** Quote from Prince William
Categories:
bludgeoning, emotions, political,
Form:
Verse
It was cold.
Death's fingers
Resting on my forehead.
The nail
Scraping, scraping,
Skin scorching
Of pain.
"You want darkness
Or heaven?"
He cackled, losing grip
On the nail
Bludgeoning
For blood.
"Time's a wasting."
The wind stopped blowing a long while ago.
Death composed himself;
Pulled the nail out
'Til the roused red
Spouted out
And the cold resurfaced.
"You ain't scared.
This suicide?"
"Death.
If only you knew,
How much I craved
For this to end."
The frostbite quivered.
Death removed
The deadly weapon
From the skin.
"I'm a murderer.
Not a liberator."
Death.
His charm tensed,
As his tongue rid
The blood stain from his white digit
Forcing exit as a bitter belch,
And a satiated grin
Carved on his
Phantom tint.
"I'll be back when you have a purpose
Eh?
Ain't no joy for me when there's joy for you."
And he will.
Yes, he will wait.
Patiently,
Waiting
To grace my blood
With his twitching nail,
Edging icily.
For it will only take
The whisper of a smile,
A soundless breeze,
To summon even the remnants
Of his presence.
Categories:
bludgeoning, death, pain, satire, suicide,
Form:
Free verse
Must confess I would not have liked to have
gone through life without experiencing a hurricane
And when Dean came I rode it out with a bit of excitement
as the winds bellowed, the roof creaked with every thrust
And I witnessing the force of nature.
When it had finished raging
The strong was separated from the weak
as if nature had designed a scalpel
to remove the dead tissues opening an area of growth and renewal
to once again invigorate ,renew and redress
what was meant to be done,but in a bludgeoning fashion.
I then took stock, and things that had once stood proud
was shamefully, head bowed, chastened,
suffering in pain
but to start the renewal
and as time permit, the slow rebirth
then the flourish followed by its bloom
and soon I wonder,when will it come again?
Categories:
bludgeoning, hope, natural disasters,
Form:
Free verse
been pretty bad people
burst pipes belching putrid
burgundy petrol
being perfect bleeding puddle
Big People bringing
poverty
bleating pelicans
barges paddling
bereaving patriots
bludgeoning prosperity
beaching promises
burdening posterity
breaking premises
but progressive
bitter Promethean
broken president
believing politics
bereft policies
brokers power
bringing plundering
barons power
bigger profits
bestial power
Categories:
bludgeoning, natural disasters
Form:
Free verse
The doctor’s had a heart attack,
The lollipop lady’s got RSI,
Couldn’t risk holding her wrist too slack
In case her stick got stolen by a passer-by.
Still, at least she’s better off than poor Doreen
Who got hit by a Ford Fiesta reversing around a corner;
Oh it was awful, you should have seen,
I wish we’d had time to warn her.
The butcher watched from his front door,
Helpless, he just muttered: “poor sod”,
But a secret part was intrigued by the gore –
He could be the new Sweeny Todd.
Repulsed such a thought had crossed his mind,
He returned to his shop from the street;
He questioned how he could be so vulgar, unkind,
While bludgeoning pieces of meat.
Categories:
bludgeoning, people, work,
Form:
Verse