Best Debauched Poems
Sitting beneath the stellar awning
Humbly, shall I comemmorate
Before the sun, creeps in crawling
Every star shall I dedicate
To you, My Love; Look at the skies
For you, My Love, I most despise.
To you, I say, in subtle north
Go tell him how my heart did bleed
When he did scowl, as I put forth
The ways I cared and loved indeed
You'd kiss my wounds - control, condole
Then skew them deeper, slaying my soul.
In far east, you, so bright yet blank
Have you not seen how hard i wept?
When flowed his eyes, his tears I drank
Did you not count my nights unslept?
And blind, was I, to your disguise
Gaze up, My Love, go find your lies!
Weep not, My friend, most close-knit
For you did taste deception bitter
Dazzled like queen, down south you sit
Mere a pawn now of waning glitter
Concur I, My Love, all pretence is sweet!
Until falls the cloak, and truth does greet.
Toppled, as I, did west monarch shiver
Warned of haste; but he'd cried my name
Limits, leaped I, not a blink's quiver
For cared I not, if world did blame
In pain, My Love, at me, you mocked
Alone, My Love, left me, you debauched!
Sorrow, the sacrifice, you did witness
O! Glazing Moon! Make haste and tell
How profound is hatred, beneath this breast
Where, drenched in love, a heart did dwell
Upon you, My heart, I swear, I proclaim
Sha'n't ever bleed in eye, sha'n't ever take his name.
Lo! Behold! Last thing, I wish to confess
If I say unto you, shall I be relieved
For you know me, my heart at best
If I say unto you, shall I be believed
No matter how high may hatred soar
I own, my love shall weigh ever more!
Categories:
debauched, lost love, loveheart, heart,
Form:
Rhyme
Plagued with an unimaginable measure of beauty
She sits somewhere between the Indian and the Atlantic
Her history boasts of nothing but debauched slavery
Having served leaders who were very autocratic
She boasts of a vast expanse of unexploited vegetation
An even greater magnitude of untapped mineral resources
Yet her people reside in abject deprivation
As they look beyond their motherland to external sources
Famine, drought and diseases are her nemesis
Her leaders never seem to be sensitive to her plight
Amassing wealth for themselves and families
Ignoring the very reason for their current might
Oh Africa my motherland
Bursting with glory and heavenly blessings
May the good Lord stretch forth His hand
To bless thee with leaders worthy of your consecrations
Categories:
debauched, history, introspection, nostalgia, sad,
Form:
Rhyme
Oh what misery!
The heart-
an indigent and feral beast
kept in lock down
in an inner cage
for my own good
What treachery dwells
within that creature!
It's wiles,
it's devious nature
eludes my control
and entices me
to act on
base instincts...
that leave me
in want of spirit,
disillusioned...
My awakening to
sensual pleasures
enraptures me...
I am left smitten
and imprisoned
to desire
So now...I ask
who is the slave
and who is the master?
The yearning for
carnality overwhelms...
my conscience is
frozen solid...
immobile
with nothing to mediate
debauched desires
I spin into
delirium...
wholly lost in
the unholy
oblivion of reality
I consecrate
my mind,
and I submit
to His will...
however,
I tread on
the edge
of a delicate
imbalance-
Obtuse
to the destruction
that
pummels my will
and dedication
me,
now a willing
participant of
egregious sin
I wallow
in self-pity
Oh, what misery!
Sample for my 8 word challenge contest
John Derek Hamilton
August 14,2019
Categories:
debauched, betrayal, desire, heart, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Dark denizens of the night
gathering in ill-lit backrooms
haunts of the night
They tease each other with
rouged cheeks, their mascara
their pimply breasts, shaved legs
Some are known for tantalizing
tempting striptease, revealing
hairy chests and knobby knees
Their hardened faces greeting poor
unsuspecting 'straights,' who, horrified
run screaming off into the night
And now the Left has lumped these
misbegotten sickos of the night
in with today's 'civil rights movement'
of transgenders, kweers, and worse
too debauched to describe, to be
celebrated in 'Drag Queen Shows'
in our public libraries, where America introduces
her precious youngsters into the fraudulent
creepy cabals of Satanism, endorsed by 'leaders' gone mad
Categories:
debauched, america, betrayal, child abuse,
Form:
Free verse
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.
Categories:
debauched, angel, art, beautiful, black
Form:
Elegy
The Bible says "thou shalt not kill"
now proudly join the army lad, and go kill,
come back home, and follow your Bible again.
O middle class, your fathers built your homes
with union help, now disperse those union halls
and happily work for minimum wage, six days a week,
chant bribed politicians working for hidden oligarchs
reaping 100 million dollar bonuses, crowded apartments
will suffice.
O Appalachians, your once proud mountaintops now
miles of desert, debauched by profiteers, unbridled by
regulations written by lobbyists, clothed in frothing
chemicals, drowning your despair in burgeoning liquor
stores.
O beautiful blufflands, along my Mississippi,
I see you now, your royal crowns
decapitated,
your limestone sand greedily slurped by
frac-monster gargoyles wearing saville row suits,
entombed in New York skyscrapers.
O broken occupiers, etch your days in Heaven,
on your jail cell wall.
Truths, all truths, build slowly,
but truth must fight on, for your children's children
will know you tried to save our people and planet!
...we must fight on!
....we will!
Categories:
debauched, faith, bible, bible,
Form:
Narrative
It is up to us
If blissful beams will brew from the
Bloom of our bounteous bond
It is up to us
If moving melodies will mount from this duet
In a magnificent mode made up by the Master
It is up to us
If this handsome halves will hatch and harp
A harmony no haunting heinous one can hack
It is up to us
To nourish it with noble nosh and nectar
And nurture it in nice notions and nature
It is up to us
To deck it in devout drapes and dye in dazzling decors
With no dint of debauched debris
It is up to us
To deliver this destiny to divine dominance
Or divide in the devil’s divorce and discord
Categories:
debauched, girlfriend, life, love, romantic,
Form:
Alliteration
Dr. Jekyll
smart, urbane
nurturing, dreaming, scheming
inventive, anxious, lustful, violent
carousing, raping, murdering
drunken, debauched
Mr. Hyde
Categories:
debauched, life,
Form:
Diamante
Mayday, mayday
My mind can't believe this was happening
I have no words to say
I heard something tail spinning and crashing
It was my debauched life
The sand in the hour glass was going way too fast
They both begin with s…stress and strife
I wish I could change the past
Trying to get off this freight train
Friends and enemies are lost in the speed
Slowing down, the only feat to be abstained
In this fast lane, on our cell phones that’s why no one pays heed
I have to slow down its going to take more than a second
And I hope that I make it because I don't care for competition
Sorry to say but there's no stop button
You'll never lose your way if you follow your intuition
If only I could just rewind
Forming an unbreakable cycle
Now I’m taking it one day at a time
So for this alluring ride, I need to buckle
Categories:
debauched, flying, life, perspective, stress,
Form:
Rhyme
Limerick : Once a Great Doubter climbed Jack’s Bean Stalk
for the raped 5-year-old Indian girl next door
Once a Great Doubter climbed Jack’s Bean Stalk
Cried : « For what Crime 5-year-old was debauched ? »
He got no true hearing
Slid down no more doubting
Now stalks 4-year-olds on dark side-walk.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Categories:
debauched, judgement,
Form:
Limerick
Smoke-filled noisy bar,
debauched disciples of dance,
I do not fit in.
Categories:
debauched, old,
Form:
Haiku
For so long you’ve held the key, the scepter and the crown,
Harrowing the reality, the subconscious, the deep within.
Your voice was deep, poignant, forbidding. Clattering like,
The tumbling down of ancient and spidery bones, swishing
Like the dust raised by warm nocturnal winds above the grave,
Of underneath whose cold stone, you speak.
I’ve held on to these, the pain most notably, the curse of living,
Clung to it as one would a shepherd’s staff. I was bleating, you, stoic,
An anguished ghost whose wispy façade slashes through the ages,
Thru generations of minds in the offing of torment. The honored
Priest above my chasm and dreams, whose scepter whirls an order,
to the bottomless chaos, defining, refining.
Such morbidity, such dusky frights and ebon like chill, thawing,
turning ductile the mind’s seams to enable comprehension
of misery, for one, for two and for as long as dreaded numbers
Could gnaw, could go and would soar. And then dreadfully and
just as suddenly, fall. But always finds in the descent kindred misery,
Again and again spewing thermals for tattered wings.
Aye, my friend, you’ve enabled these, I followed your grim lead too,
Debauched a day, or two, or three. I honestly can’t remember anymore.
When you despoiled your body did you lose your soul? I asked this
Because mine never was. It was never lost. But you, aside from being
a friend, are a terrible despot. For you bound my soulful core, right
after you cried over lost grains of golden sand.
Alas, when you failed to save even one of these grains from your
Clasp, why the need to wail and ask if all that we see or seem,
Is but a dream within a dream? Why cast eternal umbrae over
Those sojourns which aside from your company lifts my weary
Psyche? Those twilight times when I can escape and open the
Drain in the reality of my life?
Categories:
debauched, dedication, depression, faith, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
Savvy scientists scoff at the soul:
Can't poke it, prod it, pinch it, probe it
~ and clearly can't claim to contemplate...
an empirical, egg-headed, experimental
all-enveloping ecstasy of erudite exactitude
elegantly and eloquently embossed, embedded
~ in its entropy of effervescing exegesis.
Whereas
I know of no one -- nowhere -- nasty or normal
knock-kneed, neck-naped, nose-gnarled
neuron-nitpicked or nucleic-acid-nested
Who
denies indubitably or dubiously, definitely
or deafeningly--deranged, demented,
debauched or denatured -- the sacred
sanctuary unsullied, where sits, serene and
silent, the small, still sound of said soul
swilling, swelling, seeking, sailing, soaring---
sensitively, sensorily, yea sentimentally---
til he sees, then sighs, then seizes
so surreptitiously the serum of sentience
Within!
Entry in "An Inner Knowing, an Absolute Feeling, My Mystical Soul
Self Poetry Contest," sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
Categories:
debauched, emotions, self, senses, sensual,
Form:
Alliteration
Upon the dusty shores I watched
the calming waves of sea debauched.
They seem to whisper in my ear
then motioned me to venture near.
Now had I known to swim not sink
I could have held the salty drink.
I drifted deeper into sea
then felt my spirit wander free.
I saw a phantom fierce and wet.
His ghostly ship was sailing yet.
The sea surged up, its laughter hard
and caught the seaman off his guard.
I felt the blow of pounding waves
that pulled me deeper into caves.
Above me, trackless waters grew
then turned the sea a blacker blue!
If only I had learned to float,
I could have grabbed that raft or boat.
The paling smile of sandy beach,
grew far outside my grasp or reach.
When doomed ships wreck when oceans flare,
a ghost must turn the swells that scare,
and sail them first with haunting kiss
then cast the winds that howl and hiss.
I dare you brave this unknown vast
to see a specter raise her mast.
Sea goers know who's at the helm.
For it is I who ride the realm!
But had I learned one swimming stroke,
I could have wrote this as a joke!
Categories:
debauched, fantasy, funny, mystery, seasea,
Form:
Couplet
...for Hart Crane - In Memoriam - (1899-1932)
Words of purpose, carved and struck,
as chipped from granite's cold confines,
fashioned into filigrees
that shocked and startled feebler minds.
The Bridge, that span of subtle magic,
metaphor of time and space,
stretching skyward, swooping low,
connecting man to style and grace.
Letters of sophistication
sent to those who praised and scorned,
ever striving for perfection,
friends were used and heroes mourned.
A man at odds with bland conventions,
drunk, debauched, yet tried and true,
companionship oft cold and faithless
fostered with a dockside crew.
On a ship, confused and homeless,
wandering, he yearned for ease,
the ocean summoned this poor vagrant,
in its depths he found his peace.
Categories:
debauched, writing, , In Memoriam,
Form:
Quatrain