Best Deformity Poems
A battlefront benefactress,
She has her fortress, a fortified Princess, inside the dungeon of distress,
Tiled with the bone chips of ingratitude colored in pigments of black bright & rugid red,
An arrowhead chandelier illuminated by wicked tears, wet with woe,
Everybody saw her wedding dress, they all knew the warfield wardrobe,
But how many cared to touch her sorrow gown, how it hung on those exhausted shoulders,
The lilac one piece she wore for private pain,
Gain gauged by perseverence of self defense, vengence on Victory's tombstone,
How many visit that ceremony, where love is isolated amidst jealousy's cackle,
Do any of them frown with sympathy for the debt of her crown,
For every jewel in the tierra there exists a bruise upon her beautiful body,
An assault levied by the 'learned', the rape of a writer wrought by the wretchedly wanton,
Honors earned ransomed by pitiful rivalry, kindness taken in the grip of disingenuous delight,
Some say her very name is a curse, an anethema from some God foresaken moon,
Poet Destroyer, 'Too much nerve, too much passion' they exclaim,
Its only natural for her ingrown throne to be a thorn
In the fingertip of the editorial 'elite',
They know we will bleed for her grace like the children of wild sport,
The Poet Destroyer shall not hurt us as educators of deformity do,
She will not impose false limits on our brows,
She will not strike our eyes with rotten ink,
And look now you vultures of vice, we are Legion,
We are Brothers and Sisters of the Quill, raise your sight and behold our Worshipful Queen,
She rests not long in the sanctuary of her inner star, here we are,
Leading the war march towards you with captured & dried quills
Of imposter poets lashed to her sheild of cauterized parchment
Imprinted with the blessings of all literary Titans who have warred before,
We step forward While chanting in crazed concentration,
Oh woe to you,
Victors of vanity, victims of sanity!!!
This composition has been made in honor of the Poet Destroyer, aka. Linda,
A beautiful woman, a guiding Light, a warrior of liberated and Divine Art.
J.A.B.
Once, in a thought, it seemed how everything
stood without color, either black or white
or marbled grey, were sparrows tipped in flight
then pitched to the barn by a bastard wing
as feed for that, that unthinkable thing,
that thing which hunts and haunts confounded night,
and taunts with words, good morning, impolite,
on afternoons left without anything.
And in that thought, I think, I ceased to be
a thinker, but a thoughtless totem-pole,
stacked to the measure of deformity
forced on my feathered friends if lacked a soul,
their judgment passed at trial exclusively
not by a robe, but pigeon shot and coal.
INVENTORY
Are you
growing old with grace?
this would seem to be ideal
among the ancient –
living style with wide appeal,
mental powers all in place
Well
take inventory.
how about deformity,
forgetfulness,
pain, its enormity?
broken down, is that the story?
Is there
a need for escape –
glory in the childhood years,
the times of fun and games
to soften your present fears?
inventory taking shape?
Do you have
loss of direction,
occasional drooling,
and prone to heartburn,
with constant trouble stooling,
burning need for correction?
Do these bother you -
rising cost of gas,
children making loud noises,
just any rock band,
people with piercing voices,
on the highway getting passed?
Are you
growing old with grace,
ancient brought up to present,
keeping up with times,
no struggle to be pleasant,
or old, trying to keep pace.
WELL
let me tell you this,
few there are so endowed
among the ancient
as to prosper in the crowd
with perfect health, life of bliss
SO
crack open a smile
share aches and pains with the crowd
let out your anger
in company, good and loud
let misery be your style
Evil thrives under a cloak of silence,
having a keen ear for the slightest sound.
And will react with violence and threats:
to trample any form of protest down.
Truth fuels a cacophony of noise,
where whispers morph into a crescendo.
But our fears are fed a diet of lies:
addressing queries with innuendo.
While we are silent, we're invisible,
lost in the shadows of conformity.
And under the shield of complicity:
we hide society's deformity.
Kids are taught to stay quiet, not to shout:
for a fly does not enter a closed mouth.
When Faith turns fanatic,
When the mind, like a sponge soaked in dogma,
When the lure of money overrides,
When reason is hoodwinked
With the promise of a Heaven in wait,
A terrorist is born!
He moves around armed with ammunition.
Joins other desperados with loaded guns and bombs.
Like horrendous beasts unleashed from the den
They lunge on a rampage, with threats at gunpoint.
In God's name violence is concocted
Spewing hatred, hostility, and horror
When interests clash, when the greed for power overrides
Between countries, tension builds.
In the war between Russia and Ukraine
In the turmoil between Jews and Palestinians
How many have died leaving their families wailing?
We are on the brink of an apocalypse.
Guns roar, bombs blast, causing,
Death, deformity, and destruction,
Mushroom clouds rise high.
Dark clouds hang on the horizon.
Frivolous ideologies kill lives of innocents
Leading to distress and doom.
With the world turning into a battlefield
We need an escape from this inferno.
Combined efforts alone can subdue,
This formidable enemy of gigantic proportions.
United shall we stay to get all wrongs right,
Muster strength to catch the bull by its horns,
To let the doves of peace take on wings,
And build a world free of hostility and war!
_________________________________________________
Does Nox hold sway where you sit or lay,
or stand blanketed in deep fog's clime?
Where perfectly proportioned physical deformity holds
in substantive and coddled awe' sublime.
Shrouded in shot from fusil's beautiful dark pall,
far from heredity's nameless and shameless hall.
We walked as friends, along a stoney ledge
talking of women and lofty soul's reprisal'd pledge.
Wore separate clothes, to separate mothers
we cling'd,
free of our father's shadow at last.
Yet in time..
if your beliefs differ from mine
will you still call me brother?
We are so few since wreck and ruin,
should hate ever.,
take us away one another.
I'd never turn against, you have my word,
no matter the seizur'd absence of mind.
For it held strong our promised bond,
and for it,
prefer neck to the sword.
No crowning achievement in sorrows my truth,
faithful friendship strong as any belief,
more than life it's a simple us I hold to.,
for w'out us there'd be no more we.
Incessantly it trods and plods
perpetual the pendulum.
So long before the abbey bells
tolled and told of hours passing
before the ticks and tocks of clocks
or shadows crept with solstice gods
no one to worship at its start
that knew not of a perfect love.
The kindest heart left drowned in tears
and wrapped in gross deformity,
yet sheltered by cathedral walls
in disrepair as much as he.
'til Esmerelda's gentle hand,
he knew no love, just hate and scorn
and like the brand from tempered flame,
it's burning love that made him strong.
So like the edifice was he,
an ugly house that held God's love
and Quasimodo's lonely heart
who'd toll the bells that silence hears.
Then in the end he found her dead
and sacrificed his mortal life
to sleep with one who truly gave
the only love he'd ever known.
Interred, yet not forsaken souls,
whose bones became entangled vines
that turned to dust when first exposed,
then blew to heaven ~ found in time...
Uncouth, unschooled in art,
that's what you'll say of me,
You know, I've tried so hard,
but I still have to see
da Vinci's Mona Lisa's mythic,
mystic smile
bewitching folks allegedly
even from a mile.
It looks to me she parts
her lips so daintily
to let a drunken hiccup out
so gracefully,
or stop a vulgar burp,
hyperacidity,
or hide those nicotine-blackened
teeth artfully.
But honestly, nothing in her
mouth's symmetry
remotely resembles a smiling
mystery,
perhaps she's toothless, some
dental deformity,
believe you me, I took up
ortho-dentistry!
An old man looking out his door,
gaze fixed on a distant shore,
reminiscing to a time, not of happiness,
or, the prospect of a bright future,
to when he was sick to his very core,
to when as a youth, he went to war
A time before infallibility had meaning,
patriotism and bravado the craze,
the future was still unknown,
vigor for life at its all time high,
a time for romance, partying, buying,
no thought of pain, deformity, dying
Too young to understand or question,
ship to foreign shore, medals abound,
will impress the girls next time in town,
sacrifice not temporary,
forever more,
a legacy etched into a wall, few will remember,
flesh shredded, burned, torn,
families mourn
A time, when he willingly went to war,
will happen no more,
all lost in youth, now unrelenting,
no blind obedience,
minimal risk,
long life, his number one ambition
As he turns back from the door,
he thinks of the youth,
here now, soon no more,
lessons never learned,
the call to war,
to common the roar,
complacency the mood,
another generation removed
The old man agonizes
over what was originally not known,
war is preventable,
life too precious to waste,
the solution simple,
his vision, maybe too late
Send old men to the front to fight,
arthritis, heart disease, poor eyesight,
let the youth enjoy their life,
his near over, its only right
Send old men, to the front, to fight
ask them to give up their life,
patriotism and bravado, still alive,
will and desire would not last the night,
old men do not rush to death in their twilight,
failure inevitable, the old man smiles,
knows he's right
Wars not possible,
if old men, are sent to fight
Her eyes leak and her mouth sobs
Her heart beats to the rhythm of the drums
Her leg shivers and her hands weak
On the actuality that a cankerworm has eaten deep
What an absolute notion of melancholy
A disgrace to the race of humanity
An avalanche of great pain
On the WORLD it pierces with dismay
Man kidnaps man, woman kidnaps woman
Blood against blood, funeral upon funeral
A nightmare, a scarecrow to one
What a breath taken downfall of man
Armed forces, wake up from your sleeping slumber
Humans remember that the other's your brother
Fight this maestro of maudlin deformity
And resurrect freedom to National unity
This is the CRY against KIDNAPPING
:: This poem was recited by me for the book launch of THE KIDNAPPERS written by Dr Nathaniel
Democracy faces the greatest peril
when corrupt and paranoid politicians
with their delirious speech promisingly
Preaches the false idea of Fraternity
the country is awake
and they sleep with their
narrow nationalistic ideas
Reform is a lost practice
for they are indulged
in series of unlawful acts.
Who said ,' India is a poor country' ?
they have foreign bank accounts
pounds and dollars
all hoarded up here ...
The love for the Motherland
now buried with Gandhi...
he must be weeping
over this poor state of deformity
Wish I could revive those lost glories
where India was a book of beautiful old stories....
Smriti Jha
‘Cause, Priests and Prophets Must Pray for The Reign…
and for Pre and Post-Op-Apocalyptic–Novocain ! …
Yet… It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
On the Planet, however Polluted or Profane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
Wherever the Delusional -Dimensional Plane
It Doesn’t Matter, What Distress to You
Or Danger-Plot, Prison-Door or Deepest Pain
Or Present-Defeat, or Darkest-Hours-View
even Thru Dying-Breath, Devout Prayers Proclaim
to Be Delivered- New, True, and Pulled-Thru
to Claim The Prize of Life-Perpetually-Sustained
… For Particularly, By God’s Unpronounceable Power
Thru His Son’s Unparallel- Principal-Purchase… Dower
God’s Dependents and Dreamers Will Prosper-Gain
The Prophecy, The Promise, The Paradise-Preordained
The Perfect-Future and The Victory-Parade
… The Distant, Destiny of Eden – Never Been Doused Nor Degrade
Then… It Won’t Matter…So, Please Dismiss The Paltry-Strain
The Days of The Deformity and Damage-Train
Will Be In The Past … Departed-Detained
Disaster and Disloyal Will Lay In A Destroyed-Plain
Damned For All Of Time –Proliferate-Blamed
A Suppository-Prophylactic-Puddle-Shame
Patience-Persevering…Demands Punishment - Prediction-Sang…
… Final-Draft …Stop-The-Presses!... Poll-Loudly-Refrains
When You Really Discern and Pragmatically-Attain
The Divine God and His Son’s King- Domain
Publicize Their Progenitor and Predominant Names
and Preach and Deify Like-Doting-Platoon-Swains,
with Pedestal-Passion and ‘Plum-Plumb’, Persistence-Ingrained
For On Position-Comparison, We ‘All’ Pale-to- A-Feigned …
…Puppets and Peons and Dim-Witted-Parasitic-Great Danes
and Dopamine Defective, Demerol Addicted – Darwin-Poisoned-Sprains
Disoriented-Drivel, Droll-Drooling-Inane
or Just-Plain ol’ Dire-Derelicts-Insane
(and now… I have a P D Q,… for Me and You… Migraine)
Oh… May They Accept This Poor-Placard-Crane
Amen… Again… Amen
So I’m left standing alone all alone in the cold
Waves of warmth are vivid and unclear
That forces the watery winks from a shattering glass
That echo deep within my heart
For I thought for once I will see you look back
Well so be it, I’m better off in the dark alone
Wait....
The darkness is my friend that I have never feared
The only fear was that I will be half way the devil when he speaks
All alone in a box with no breath or soul
But glimpse of mental will still liger as I have been perceived as a failure
And with ever bitter said about what was you
Just bring a self-deformity of shame and disgust
But so be it, ya’ll was just pretending and never liked me anyway
Ok.....
Well yeah so be it, for I have realize that I have no place in your life
And all along I was made to believe that I was actually something of value
Where as to you it was just a contract of monetary gain
And I had to suffer the loss of memories of you and I
But instead you instill the hate for what you have done and what you want me to do
Forcing me to go against everything I believe in just so you are of ease
So be it, like so be it I will just stand alone for my own peace.
Something stirring, twisting, darkening in my mind
I wake to see myself through the faded windows of time
Still in this place of cold metal and stone
For too long now it seems that’s all I have ever known
So now I lie down and wait for tomorrow’s next big fight
Knowing in my heart an end to an Almost Endless Night
Crowded, Shrouded faces everywhere
Eyes growing cold from nothing left to share
Shackled down by the weight of their own enormity
Without Grace from the one their souls twist to deformity
But to those that believe a new dawn springs light
And an endowment of strength to challenge this Almost Endless Night
For a life unbecoming a man such as me.
A family awaits him patiently to see what he will be.
No longer wishing the road that desire brought him down.
Wants of the flesh give way to Gods, a harder road is found
A multitude of apologies never uttered to this plight
And never again shall I go down into this almost endless night
Exiting, vexing my mind screams freedom
In my minds eye I see the banner of Gods kingdom
Knowing that now all the prophesies ring true
Of freeing all the captives, the door I go through
Will take me now from this lands painful blight
And enter me now into the Sun of his never ending light.
I can see the dream I'm dreaming
It's so beautiful, so alleviating
It's the alliteration of everything compelling
It's an epitome of petulant imaging
It's me metamorphosing into greatness
Bearing the trophy of poetry highness
I can feel the gaiety on my success
And the scenery of my upliftment
But it's only a dream, not reality
It's just a film in my head, not an actuality
It's the absolute notion of melancholy
The maestro of maudlin deformity
It's a prototype of an implicit onerous display
A melodrama that reclines on a fairy tale
The model of an unswerving galling replay
Like a pungent smell, unwanted but makes it's way
I can't triumph over over-lords of the pen
I can't defeat the dominating combatants of content
I can't outsmart the ten over tens
I just can't win this contest
But I CAN do one thing
Dream of my WIN