Best Defiles Poems
A fleeting still small voice tries to warn me
A sudden overwhelming desire to run
The tell tale taste of metallic flakes
Means my nightmare has begun
Everything around takes on a ghostly pallor
A landscape of anguish and corrosion
A moment of silence before the violence
The flash of light, the brilliant explosion
The sound of the Sun fills my ears
Fear, my throat, though none escapes me
And paralyzed I clench my eyes
As my tormentor prepares to rape me
And it's endeavor is absolute
Consumption is its ultimate goal
It exists to chase me so it can erase me
Whilst feasting on my soul
And then that familiar salty smell
The sudden rush of warmth so stings
Engaging me relentlessly
In vile unspeakable things
Over and over and over again
My limbs stretched and wrought
As it's teeth tear my bones bare
It's mind defiles my thoughts
And still wounds beget wounds beget wounds
As in the mouth of madness I suffer
And with every injury he just seems to be
Rougher and rougher and rougher
Then just as suddenly as it began it ceases
And for a moment I am clearer
And then the true horror of it all
Is revealed in a darkly lit mirror
There in front of me stands my destroyer
Face flush with it's fill of my pain
And I find that it's eyes and mine
My God, they’re one in the same
Words are like weapons with bullets of lead
That pierce through your soul when angry and said.
When someone shoots his mouth off like a loose cannon,
You can’t help but get hurt as the mortar is landin’.
The thing about these wounds to the soul,
There’s no bleeding to stop from invisible holes.
Though, on the surface, there are no wounds to tend,
The damage is often deeper and harder to mend.
Masked by pride, courage or good old denial,
Make no mistake, this pain maims and defiles,
Reducing the toughest man’s heart to that of a child's.
So the next time you’re angry, don’t be absurd.
Lay down your weapons of hollow point words.
There is a better way to accomplish your goals
Without doing battle and wounding other's souls.
Oh, God, spare me the bloodied, thorny, rose
call it naught by the color of its shame
promises of loves unending future
masking the silent scent of love’s demise.
Glory not the crimson of its passing
nor weep as crying petals hit the floor
hold tight to thorn stung stem - a bloodied lust
at rest upon the stillness of her breast.
Oh, God, spare me the sodden, teardrop rose
too late the touch of kindness comes again
to kiss the dwindled cheek – a faded passion
a coldness that defiles the touch of death.
Oh God, forgive the rose its indiscretions
for beauty is the bauble of the weak.
©8/6/2018
for Brian Strand - August 2018 Premiere poetry contest
THE MOST-WANTED HEIGHT & MOST-NEEDED HEART
Do women miss out on a good man
because of height & forget God's plan?
Most definitely yes, of course,
and shamelessly so without remorse.
I feel for such women & their plight
of not setting their priorities RIGHT.
On a norm, everyone set priorities,
but not all set them right, bar minorities.
This high man, with a great thing to pursue,
Dies 'ere his manly character without rescue.
That low man goes on adding one to one
and making many more mouth cheer on.
Do women miss out on a good man
because of height & forget God's plan?
They ignore the man who can meet despair
and face defeat with a cheer,
without venting, suffocating yet not losing.
Inadvertently, that's the man of God's choosing;
The man whose low gravity defiles the laws of gravity,
One who achieves with brevity & unambiguity,
The man who can fight to Heaven's height
on his knees and diffuse all your fright.
Gushing for the big man & feelings on the loose;
What a size says the size of his shoes
but crumbling down the rose at her height,
So with her dream man who lacks a heart,
his power & beauty forever take flight.
What you WANT rivals what you NEED.
Uneasy as it is, let your desires concede
to the needs that are required for life to proceed.
What most women WANT is a good height
but what they mostly NEED is a good heart.
VICK MANUEL POETRY {VMP}
Form: Rhymes
Copyright ©? 22nd July 2023.
My vile tongue betrays me, rage defiles words.
A dragon’s flamed breath scorches far less.
From buried heartache, my ill soul’s duress
festers in mourning, locked tight and unheard.
Skies of ash smolder and silence the birds.
Their lyrics once earnest are lies professed.
Oh, dawn vengeful dawn, my foe to confess!
I’ll die with my rage, alone, I’m assured.
I wonder if death shall be my relief
from hours overwrought by lies and deceit.
My inner-rage boils, calloused is my soul;
a soul void of love and cloaked in its grief.
As chill of death comes to snuff rage's heat,
I pray for the love and peace, anger stole.
written 11/20/15 for John's Mad As A Hornet Contest
*Italian Sonnet - rhyme scheme abbaabba cdecde
I breathe the beginning of new life in the spring
I feel the gentle gift of life giving rain
I see the newborn Fawn standing on her own
I plant the seeds of my hunger, hues of Flowers, easy on the Eyes
The warmth of the Summer Sun, heats my heart and Soul
The soft summer rain splashes in the Gardens
The vegetables grow while Flowers rainbow the scenery
The gentle wind whispers with the melody of the songbirds
As the Hues of the leaves sparkle along the Landscape
As fall's sunsets rainbow the colorful sights below
As the Northwind slowly begins to show it's rage
As nature's creatures scurry to fill for winter's wrath
When the winter wind begins to howl barren trees stand tall
When the angery snow defiles Mother Nature's Beauty
When the Ice shimmers upon the frozen lakes
When I look I see the beauty of my life, my Home
Middays muse; with tinseled fingers and what is this, but a mockeries dust amid the wind....
Lost laxus, in its own schematics malignful maze everwinding unto inevitables end within
A self-fulfillings twisted prophecy spelling this enigmas day of irony, that shall be!?
Finding but a paradox in bittersweets truth clinging to these ivy genuises walls
Scaling both reason and purpose; this mingling of night with day and laughters illusions
Soon to fade into what was no less than a sifting breeze passing by as it lingered upon
This bed of thornful roses which pierced their eyes while tears gathered in shadows blind....
Unto where is the irony to be found in this tangerine testament aneath times carnival tents?!
In quantums theories these porcelain dolls with their charcoal smiles; defiles dangling
Upon strings of pain to be broken inside; a chorus line of deceit and lies kept in a bios box
As daydreaming within this mirages muse amid a maze which they once believed, their truth....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....“The Puppet Master” *
Maintenance culture
People and culture
Like bee and honey
Too much energy spent
In portraying a culture
Well believed as a way of life
In places
Maintenance culture
A culture far from humanity
Is a failed culture
A culture that promote humanity
Is worth an everlasting try and try again
Maintenance culture
We need to preserve our history
We need to preserve our Hero's past gone oh Africa
We need to preserve and maintain
All values of our accessors
They never laboured in vain
So we are to adore and keep
Their legacy a honour
Maintenance culture
Africans now I write to you all
Where is the maintenance culture
We once value
Now people don't care
So many don't even know their root
As an African
Our school don't even teach us
How important is to maintain
And preserve our resources
Is like we are just supporters
Looking so confuse and so scard
A lot we believe we can't Do
Oh African why have thou fallen
For babylon is and must always
Come after us
Maintenance culture
With out Africa I just wonder
What will be of the world
Before and now
Every one are friends to Africa
That makes me wonder
Who is an enemy as it is not
Written but the scars now we
Bear speaks a lot
Maintenance culture
Oh African we need to boast our
Ways
We need not change to other ways
That defiles our dignity
A lot we have
a lot we got to maintain
For already a lot we lost
So where is our maintenance culture
We once showed the world back
Then the days of our ancestors
Now why do we don't care
Destroying our selves
Fight and devaluing each other
Was not our culture
So now all you and I can see
Is a down fall that invite hunters
To devour all we got to maintain
Maintenance culture
If you are an African
I pledge you help maintain our worth
If you are not an African I pledge
Do Africa no harm
For already is enough all this
Evil shower around my continent
From out and with in
So as we all see we need a lot
Hands together oh brethren to successfully
Bring back our
Maintenance culture
Bare, it’s clean, does love exist?
Scraped clean, who deserves such confused?
Death row veggies , marrow delight?
Slaughtered for our feast?
Bacon cheese- burger
Defiles humanity
Ask me now
Does love exist?
Does
Love
Exist?
11/010/11
They tore up the landscape
And scarred it with craters,
They tore up the landscape
And turned it all black,
Like some kind of hell
Had raised up to hate us,
The trees are all gone
And the grass won’t grow back.
They chewed up the green belt
With heavy machinery,
They chewed up the green belt
And clawed it to shreds,
As though the four horsemen
Had ripped through the scenery,
Waged war on the earth
And then left it for dead.
What’s left to be proud of
From pillage and raping?
What’s left to be proud of
From greed that defiles?
A smouldering landfill
Sucked dry and misshapen,
And nothing but coal dust
For a good ten square miles...
The calls of the flocks to this years migration
a roving community of birds in each nation
rising and diving above mists in the rocks
the drawing together for birthing new flocks
The coo of the crane in a wetland bog
the bob of its head when its nabbed a frog
opened winged geese in passages soar
north back to south or a western shore
Above our earth the traversing vast miles
into the snowfall or cliffside defiles
a race upon water to lure this years mate
or share in the catch a dance woven like date
Such grace of movement their wings on the breeze
like rhythms beating to ascend above trees
how can one capture such beauty so grand
of a creatures decent upon sky upon land
Motion so elegant their journey's in sky
mankinds observations our own desire to fly
the form of their pinions upon outstreched wings
to follow freedom this kind of life dreams
Lowlands or Highlands the wild fowl domains
in deserts or plateaus aviary terrains
on pole ice or islands you'll find their rests
every year you'll find them their community nests
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC
I beheld your frame in my doubting eyes
there was no way for me to
explain this to by brain.
How could my trembling hands want to
follow the trail,and explore your definition.
If I know you are taboo.
What damage could be done in my adoration.
Not put here I think, for my souls appreciation
I cannot humble myself enough to walk away
If my lust defiles you -I am certain
I cannot look away,
captured in the gleam of my eye,
It's not for me to decide
God our creator already
has said that lust is a sin
that starts in the minds eye.
I behold a sight that draws
me like a magnet to metal.
Shall I blame this on the devil?
Are my feelings evil?
My resources are feeble.
Signals received under complicated
conditions.
Waiting for your response to free me.
If I lose my soul -I will be lost forever
if there is such a thing
as the great beyond -- I will be doomed.
If I be true to my now,
as natural as it may seem.
Who will call the foul ?
I am waiting on your response to free me.
The virus of the unrighteous
has spread to the future..
We have become what we once hated
infuriated, that what's inside me is despised.
I have never supt of your essence.
Though I be penalized-God
who knows the score-When he
indicts me with this crime...
God who controls my emotions
my thoughts-Leaves this one to my charge.
fraught I am in this conflict-Shall I remain lost.?
Waiting on your response.
If we kiss now,
I cannot touch you in the future-
One day it won't matter about
Color age or respective gender.
We can love completely
without guilt or shame-
without the threat of
torture in a treacherous flame
One day love and lust will be the same.
It will all be fine, until then
I will wait with dubious mind.
Absurd as it may sound
Appreciate life as it is found
Admirable thought and profound.
Cat on the wall
Caught in its caterwaul
Costly mistake of wrong choice
Emits a purr and a mew
Engineer scraps design for new
Excellent cast of the dies.
Golden blessings from above
Generous dolings of love
Genial nature without lies.
Iris is the window of soul
Iota of envy is the mole
Irritable mind leads to guiles.
Kindly is the heart of compassion
Knock down the doors of ostentation
Kink of the mind conscience defiles.
Orange and apple are unalike
Over these comparison don't strike
Order of creation differences implies.
Lastly, of my wisdom with words
Use your pens instead of swords
Hope all I've said is wise advice.
~07 Jul 2016~
Time Taken : 45 Minutes
Contest: Make A Poem Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
Write me a poem using the 21 words listed below
any subject that fits with these words is acceptable
please use a form that rhymes
Poems of 8 lines minimun and 24 maxium
word list
Absurd, appreicate, admirable
cat, caught, costly
emits, engineer, excellent
golden, generous, genial
iris, iota, irritable
kindly, knock, kink
orange, over, order
The Darkest of Hearts
And you are...
yesterday's pleasantries
today's impurities
tomorrow's solace
And you are...
what you want the world to see
strength,
beauty,
power,
soul
And you are...
a fallacy,
a union of falsehood and indignation,
an ambassador of dereliction and delusion
And you are...
what you want the world to see
compassionate,
protector,
infallible
worshipper and lover of the most high
And you are...
one who defiles
the most sacred of trusts
a destroyer of inner peace
mocking the purest of hearts
And you are...
what you want the world to see
champion of causes
treasurer of grace
master of the ethereal
enchanting and desirable
And you are...
the angel of deceit
pretentious and poisonous
inebriated in repugnance
disheveled and insignificant
And you are....
Having me a real hard time—freedom
out here where a stoned god
don’t speak my language
defiles the immaculate,
and I am going mad
in search of great enterprise.
In search of great enterprise,
I seek freedom
from the mad—
a stoned god
static in a sky, immaculate.
I listen for cosmic language.
I listen for cosmic language—
a holy enterprise.
Starless are the heavens, immaculate
in their freedom
from a stoned god
gone mad.
Gone mad,
I lose language—
blame god
and his ego enterprise.
In his grasp, there is no freedom.
In me, I seek the immaculate.
In me, I seek the immaculate.
I embrace the mad—
my mad is freedom.
Language
is an enterprise.
I am my own god.
I am my own god—
immaculate.
I am an enterprise.
Name me mad.
Speak my language.
I am freedom.
Freedom, out here where a stoned god
don’t speak my language defiles the immaculate.
Name me mad, for I am my own enterprise.