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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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skirted, wind blown from afar  
I was not to be late for the affair  

bells struck midnight  
and there were two left...

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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...

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I am a virgin slammer,
Let me get that over with,
So if I stammer and speak like a bludgeoning hammer,
Let the record be clear: I’m just...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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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...

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been pretty bad people
burst pipes belching putrid
burgundy petrol
  being perfect bleeding puddle

Big People bringing
          ...

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