Best Convulse Poems
My skin petrified, mummifying my hand
upon pools of brittle ice
like curdled blood piercing veins: I watch
the moon bathing its flesh,
in crystal yellow, waxing a sheen...
my pores dilate as cubes slowly melt
when this fired orb heals from above
till its velvet breath climbs into my head,
extinguishing limbo of a daze…until I convulse in joy
when chunk-stone changes into glimmered dew.
*I held ice cubes on my palms and was transported
back to scene of one night when a high fever drowned
my senses… for some reason, viewing the glory
of the moon relieved me from delirium…
Ice King Contest of Skat
( in less than 10 lines)
25July2013
by nette onclaud
Hit me
Punch me in the face
Kick me if you must
I need to feel your pain
I need to know
Understand
Where you have been
For with your gentle touch
I have been unaware of the depth of your pain
When you kiss me bite my lip
Let my blood pulsate with understanding
I will scream out the words you are unable to articulate
Let me push into the centre of your need
Until we both find release
Use your nails
Dig into my back
I am strong enough
I will not be broken by your need
Do not be afraid of black ink
Or metaphorical anger
Hit me
Pound upon my chest
Until both our hearts feel
Convulse with pleasured realization
No rules or limitations
Digress to primal urges
Find your earlier self
Until you are lost
Until
Until
You are fully spent
Exhausted
Consolable
For I am not afraid
I am willing
Yes I am able
To take
Your worst
and "your best shot"
If only you are brave enough
To let me absorb your pain!
For Casarah's Triple Threat contest
Written June 23rd.
Note: this poem does not advocate violence, it is a fantasy piece.
He never seemed to have the time for her
Responsibilities kept piling high
His days just seemed to fly in blinding whir
He could not sense her love was soon to die
So tired from his work, he'd lie in bed
and kiss her quick goodnight, then fall to sleep
How could he know her needs he had not fed
For they had life and home and funds to keep
He felt that life was good, and all was well
They spoke of his good fortune and his wife
How could he know that flames reached up from hell
and soon he'd taste from cup of bitter strife
That night he planned to take her for a spin
He bought some chocolates and rose in bloom
Outside his bedroom door, he lost his grin
He found her being ravaged in their room
His best friend and his wife in love's embrace
it made his heart convulse in frenzied beat
Before he'd kill them both, he left the place
But how could he forget her brazen heat
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
They sat there in the office, pens in hand
their lives were torn in two, divorce: the end
She touched his arm as he prepared to stand
He melted then, but had to just pretend
"You never knew the love I have for you
I tried my best to keep you satisfied
Throughout my days, the best I tried to do
but your neglect just left me traumatized
You never praised the beauty of my face
The touch of love you kept; I died within
You did not see the negligee of lace
HE saw all these, and tried my heart to win
I tried to close my heart, I did not dare
to lose the home we had, I longed to be
the one you loved with soul and body bare,
yet all my pent up love, you did not see."
And with those words she gave a little cry
the tears that flowed struck cold his broken heart
He knew the fault he bore, he now knew why
But it was all too late; they now must part
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
There is a moral to this tale so drear
A wife is still a woman with desire
She longs to know her man to her is near
So take the time to please and stoke her fire
You need to show her that she is the one
Who makes you long to love, and laugh, and live
So let your passion rival heat of sun
And then her all to you, she'll freely give
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A wife has needs and wants just like you do
To see her constant bloom, give love that's true
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Eileen Manassian Ghali
In the webbed corners of my brain
There blooms a sinister flower
Its petals dripping with venom
And thick roots entwined with despair
Begins with a taste, a mere sip
The madness will soon take control
Shades mix into a motley form
Trapping me in its tapestry
This poison, deceptive and cruel
Cautiously seeps through fragile veins
The vicious hiss in the bloodstream
A symphony of masked decay
My heart, once steadily beating
Now flutters erratically
The rhythm, a jarring alarm
Of an anguished plea for release
Grim thoughts flip and pull and coil
Like serpents locked in fierce battle
Slick fangs sinking deep into flesh
feeding on doubt and self-loathing
My mind becomes a labyrinth
With narrow walls closing in tight
Echoing with hollow laughter
As reasoning stumbles and falls
The toxins muddle my vision
Showing phantoms that can’t be real
Bleak faces contorted in sin
My eyes can still see in the night
In this twisted waltz of fester
Afflicted, I writhe and convulse
muted screams swallowed by the void
All essence fading from within
As I’m left consumed just beyond
A fractured wit seeks to find peace
Until my soul is laid to rest
In bare sighs of forgotten dirt
*I wrote this poem on January 31, 2024, as part of a ’30 days of poetry’ January challenge. This was day 31 and the prompt was: Describe something toxic and its effects on a person. This poem delves into the darkness of mental illness, portraying the effects of toxic thoughts and inner turmoil. It is a reflection of the pain and disintegration that can occur within my mind.
Written: June 30th, 2026 for a contest sponsored by Seth Pina
Underneath a veil of midnight choke,
A peaceful recluse is drifting loose.
Hungry roots in ghostly boots,
As blood-red clay morphs to gray
The winter cries from weeping skies,
Heavy prayers distilled tears.
A gleam in moonlight, a dream in sight,
The stars have bled where breath is dead.
Its sinewed trunk is deeply sunk,
Through ruined soil where shadows coil.
Raw winds can snap a broken jaw,
As trees run deep to hide a sleep.
Most sorrow a faded ghost now,
Reach out and touch a dead shore.
Underneath this clay of black decay,
Lost bones will scream and sigh.
A dying pulse makes night convulse,
Where fading sparks collapse to dark.
A requiem blows low with icy glow,
As blood seeping scars mock the stars.
Confess your sins where spoil begins,
For wood can hold the bitter cold.
Its trapped voice leaves no choice,
When winter’s wind proclaims it sinned.
To see her blog, adorned with pastel tones
Widens the gap that pervades my bones
For now we eat her passing meal of plain white rice
Leaving us all alone, without much needed fashion advice
The red light district has lost an inductee
For I would have love to be involved in her naked party
Yet for now we must all be content
With the debauched path she hath went.
Sadness invades a binary world
Where tweeters and bloggers hearts have curled
Bringing back memories of Madonna’s ‘Like A Virgin’
Her fashion advice precise like a mastoplexic surgeon
I remember the fervour when you were followed by Kath Kidston
A similar experience when I had my first Jar of Branston
Yet when you found out the intensity with which I was following you
You wanted to change species and become a Gnu
You learnt to accept my frequent outpourings of love
When you finally spoke to me, I felt as free as a pure white dove
But upon your departure I feel pathetic and hollowed
The best I can hope for is the number of one of the hot bloggers you followed
She was always my muse, my intimate inspiration
No-one can cause such an outpouring of personal perspiration
My heart now yearns to see her type a special tweet
One that would make Mr Sexton act like a dog on heat
Now the world mourns the passing of Lily Fulvio-Mason
I can still see her face reflected in my wash basin
With every heart beat, every full blooded pulse
My sadness streaked blood makes my body convulse
But now it’s time to go, my heart says goodbye
The pain eats my nipples like the Syrphid Fly
I can finally see your body laid in an eternal rest
And now I can now finally uncover your breast.
WINTER ARCHITECTURES
Clouds convulse, cold feathers fall:
dressing green globes with white gowns,
frosting brown houses like cakes--
snow architectures.
___________________________________
2:42 pm, November 10, 2015
Memories of goodness from collaborating nakedness
are more than strong appetizing captivity from hot omelets and lasagna
serving as the foundation of a strong intimacy
planted in a greenhouse of mythical pleasures
growing in the natural mood of the angels,
joy of a breast fed toddler and
the blossom of a newly wedded bride
making each episode of our erotic escapades
fit in perfectly like fried bricks placed by an experienced mason
to always anticipate holy crimes, godly naughtiness and tempting tenderness.
Having a voice formed from taking Nature’s tea
your happy reactions feel like wrapping thighs over my soft abdomen
and playfulness like your tender pelvis greasing my trunk.
your anxious tongue convulse at the slightest touch of any body part
like the dancing tail of a fast swimming fish
padding my inside to softness to provide sensual oxygen
giving constant preservative to our gritty and never decaying romance.
Such love always create classic dreams
with slow melodic settings showcasing proactive kisses
from nuclear minds so spontaneous and rhythmic,
liberal skins ready for intense foreplays
making even our under wears carry so much envy
because of such a walled passion
impenetrable by any radar and unsinkable by any disaster.
Our essence of clothing is to take them off
the significance of our schooling is to garnish up such affection
the creation of this heat is a powerful reality
standing between men and angels
summing up a traditional fairy attached by
a never ending chain of irresistible desires
this exactly defines the two of us.
this bond is just conservative to our unique and inferno experience
and so therefore, the ultimate hope is, we should never stop!
He fell to the floor with the very last beat
And never did breathe again.
No one was nearby to help him survive,
For he had not a single friend.
Awareness was in his surroundings.
He knew that perhaps he had died . .
Upon seeing his agonized body convulse,
Then breathe out one last suffering sigh.
Bewilderment then came upon him.
His mind grasped outward for truth.
Where was the tunnel and where was the light:
Those stories from out of his youth?
Then a cold, steely calm overtook him.
Understanding and irony seeped through.
Tunnels and light were for heaven bound souls;
Those going to hell get a far different view.
As the bad day wore on and another one dawned,
He was forced to accept his grim fate.
And to face the hard fact he must pay for each act,
For his greed, for his lies, for his hate.
He determined that hell just might suit him quite well,
For he'd garnered low marks in life's test.
What he needed just now, was to get there somehow . .
Become one with the worst of hell’s best.
Soon the pitch and the sway of his coffin,
Toward a hole freshly sculptured nearby.
No funeral, no friends, just a few muffled sounds:
Not for him, would there be sad goodbyes.
Then he felt the grave swallow his casket;
Dull thuds of moist earth soon grew dim.
Felt horror and dread in the silent, pitch black,
Implored Satan to now come for him.
But no one would come, because no one could hear,
Silent screams from the depths of his vault.
He lies there in the dark, imprisoned in rot,
With the knowledge his fate is his fault.
And his wait will go on, forever, then some:
Like dead leaves fallen into a well.
Jailed by the grave in foul suit of decay . .
Screaming day after day, "This is hell!"
cherry bombs convulse
their fuse burns painfully fast
lesson learned, no thumb
When desires meet and emotions convulse
Fixation unties that inner impulse.
An American doublet
Bright are the hues in springtime's overflow
The sad winds proceeds thro' the sensuous room
The flowering garden kept gently reciting
The flowing notes 'neath the sun shaped moon.
The candles flicker and the blue stars glimmer
The dead pools ripple thro' the winds pulse
The light grows thicker, my heart grows dimmer
My hands warm glow and convulse.
And spreads lightly across the monotonous wall
By the splendid cypress, that droopingly blows.
Memories creeps with its secret undertones
Illustrious the visions that entrancingly glows.
There's a place where the mind wanders across
The vast fields of those never ending dreams
When rest the slumbering eyes of the world
When wakes the night's warm flooding beams.
A place where the imperial streams may meet
A place where the sparkling springs may rise
A place from all life's plummeting defeats
Stilling the mournful teardrops in my eyes.
Where I by the green rocks and ponderous oak
Away from men with envious tongues
And from the bitter spectre of love's after glow
And from the trampling of the strong.
Would saunter in the deep wide rosy valley
Where the sullen owl in night espies
My eyes are quenched by the carnal flowers
The pond is dancing and then it sighs.
The nightly Zephyrs soothes our humble rest
Seraphs in a golden halo of glowing light
The sparrow clasped upon its mother's breast
'Twixt the blue distance softly streaming bright.
The night is cold and the music intrudes
And the fluttering mist wild white subsides
My heart has flown and the buds exudes
Sultry the sprays expanding wide.
When dappled the leaves the heaven bedews
That glides thro' the vacant bowers
Where my tender head would softly sleep
Thro' all the nights intriguing hours.
In nature sweet I've made my bed to rest
A heaven away from life's blazing hell
Where my sunken heart can freely flutter
To the distant skies that brightly swell.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Russia is now in the Middle East as earthquakes dramatically increase
A couple signs of the beast but in these times such signs don't cease
As the twelves tribes of Israel return with anti-Semitism on the rise
Many of the things you will learn may also come as a real surprise
As in Revelation seventeen four, she dressed in Purple and Scarlet
This is what Cardinals and Bishops wore in being called this harlot
The euro-roman empire is back and many rumors of war, and war
The Red Moons were right on track, as man is wicked to his core
The Euphrates will run dry, a new 16 dam project just completed
For this China and Russia will via as a deal will save the defeated
But it's the Almighty's Israel this Army will be God drawn to take
Not sure exactly what Seal but that is going to be a big mistake
Earth itself has begun to convulse as man has stripped her bare
And if you still have a pulse of these events you must be aware
A forced Israeli land deal for peace as from Judea they will flee
No longer will God they fleece or else as we are all about to see
Matthew 24:36
But of that day and hour knoweth no man, no,
not the angels of heaven, but my Father only.
Russia/Rosh- Gog Magog war 9-11-15
Jews increasingly return to Israel worldwide
St. Malachy predicted 112 popes, this is 112
The euro is the old Roman Empire
Red Moons 1493, 1948 rebirth of Israel
1967 the 6 day war Jerusalem now Israel's, and 2014
Signs in the Heavens God's Billboards
200,000,000 man army crosses dry Euphrates
Turkey just finished that dam 6 months ago
Earthquakes over 6.0 increase 10 fold since 2000
Google disasters in the U.S after ruling against Israel( it's not good)
The warnings/Shemitah years 1973, 80, 87, 94 2001, 2008,
2015 9-11 Russian goes into Middle East(Syria)
For I believe the final process of His Judgement may have begun
We are no Nineveh, we haven't repented but become worse!
Technology/ increase in knowledge
Popo Leo's Vision 1884....I need more time and power
The cell phone, he's in EVERYONES pocket(power)
I could go, but time is short
Not meant to scare, but awaken. He is a Loving and Merciful God,
And His Kingdom will have no end. Call upon His Name
For even the elite shall be fooled in the last days
A hiding place, a warm and darkened room,
A lit doorway, bright against the dark,
Cold against the warmth, a frame for odd
Assorted stranger-forms whose faces loom
As quarrels over (what?) convulse and rend them,
Leering laughter giving in to vicious
Sneers, bared fangs, silent snarls
Of wretched, clutching, atavistic mayhem,
A terror once removed. Inside that hole
Distant from the proximal horrid window
Where twisted evil shadow-puppets fight
Peculiar faint amusement seems to roll
Like waves around the cave, detached and born
Of safety via distance, of certainty
That out would never be in, that warmth was safe,
That war above, so far away, forlorn,
Could be watched as from a languid seat
Far recessed in a darkened empty theater,
Nestled snugly, listening to the voice
Which comments on the raging battle heat.
From somewhere up, behind, not left nor right,
But from the center, voice and fight both
Directly sensed, as if they each occurred
In a vacuum, touch and smell, sound and sight
Being interchangeable and void.
The fighters jab and poke, madly gouge,
And neither gains advantage, being justly
Matched, as both are faceless, the man
At left pitted fair against the shrewish
Plot of his opponent, evil woman.
Both in turn appeal for judgment, turning
Away from fighting to glare and wave and hiss
Silently for a verdict on the ghastly driven
Feud which now has stopped, as it began,
Abruptly, and receiving none, for in
The silence no answer can be given
(Besides which, being taken by surprise
And overcome by sudden fear, aware
Of change in circumstance) the watcher is mute,
The murderous woman lunges at his very eyes
In deadly assault, bent on maiming, killing,
Groping fiercely at his open throat
For no apparent reason; and the comfort
Of the soothing voice utterly halts.
Words without sound fly like spears between them
Accusatory fingers gesture madly
And spittle from their half-crazed livid mouths
Wings through air in visual acid anthem
To this grisly deadly tandem fight
That seems the worse being set in relief
By the rectangular hole that serves as both
Window and door, divider of dark and light,
No protection, as threshold battle threatens
Him within, as blind hatred rages
In deft slashes of lengthy fingernails
While foe from foe extracts macabre debt.
Out of the bosom of eternal bliss
In which I reigned with glorious sire
Out of my comfort zone
With dreams to fall a sleep to
No widow to be remorseful to during cold nights
A laid bed of roses to lie down at sundown
Surrounded by down to earth people
Valleys and slopes to plough when the rains a back
I have gone a road
Off to where the wind blows whirly
Where; human reign is a tale,
And wild horses run you down in broad day light
With no slopes to climb, neither valleys to roll down to
Where dew never leaves the green grass on the plains
Behold, I have gone a road
Embarked on a journey my fore fathers longed to take
To where; not bounded, not corrupt grace of heavens descends upon the earth
And I shall reside where trees grow tall beneath the illuminated sky
Where the gods of the land shall convulse my spirit with joy
Not so long then shall I get a profound bride!
Sprucely beautiful, with incorruptible moral fiber and a spotless bright skin
With whom we shall tie the nut
Too soon after, we shall hit the high road back home
Coz; I would have missed your love and care too much already
Though my bride’s kinsmen shall miss their daughter
When I shall be gone a road to my home and family
Back to you who really give an eye teeth for my well being
By;
Oswell