Best Demigods Poems
Lavish luscious liaison
Orchestrated obsession
Nocturnal nebulae
Gifted graceful gallantry
Secluded sanctuary
Tiffany telltale turtledoves
Effervescent ecstacy
Metaphysical mascarade
Magically manipulated mandolin
Erotic entanglement
Delectable daredevil demigods
Rhythmic romance rhapsody
Openhearted opulence
Secret sensuous seduction
Exquisite exotic elixir
Sumptuous scent of long stemmed roses
AP: 1st place 2021
Submitted on June 24, 2019 for contest YOUR PERSONAL PERFECT POEM PICK sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
Originally posted on March 15, 2019
Categories:
demigods, flower, lust, night, romantic
Form:
Acrostic
I’ll write of roses never touched
that fade in wilt, then praise their hue.
And though their rot perfumes my metaphors,
I’ll never stoop to caress their blooms.
And as rivers choke on oil and bone,
with caustic ink, I’ll hail their shimmer,
ignoring the discarded gluttony lining their shores,
scribing only the poetic cadence of their flow.
And when cities burn, I’ll describe their walls descending.
And as ash clings to their children, I’ll write of their silhouettes,
believing war can be explained in words - but it can’t.
Though still, I’ll sing of them in sonnets.
And as kings and demigods devour what’s left of us,
I’ll praise their suits - their appetites.
As they torch the ground with golden tongues,
I’ll quote their grandiose while whispering curses in rhyme.
And as a woman weeps in foreign dust,
I’ll call her symbolic, emotive, for misery
makes a lovely metaphor when properly penned.
I’ll write of it, then move on before I feel.
And I’ll use God like I use gold,
thin leafed and brandished, though not to be touched.
I will not pray and I will not flinch,
for holiness reads well.
And as the sky collapses, black with smoke,
I’ll call it dusk, pretending…
breathing through filters to scrub the wind,
keeping my voice clear and my hands clean.
And above it all I will sip and scribble
as the world burns - then call it art.
I will have saved nothing, I will have served no one,
but with words, I will have described it beautifully.
Categories:
demigods, angst, anxiety, art,
Form:
Free verse
…the greatest poet who ever lived
…our Lord Jesus Christ
Wishes that wash upon the shallow shore,
Lacrimal lesions of the holographic whore…
Tectonic temptations, the lava shall pour,
Unleashing emotions, entombed we gore.
Mangled monuments of ruins regurgitate,
Surfacing megalomania of demons dominate…
Demonic destruction encroaches to infiltrate,
Demigods of desire will position to penetrate.
Distant horizons dissipating within plain sight,
Frigid frustrations amidst fore playing frostbite…
Detestation distortions of Hell’s agape appetite,
Antagonizing warring Angels take feverous flight.
Falling into oblivion within the blink of an eye,
Idempotent illusions making macabre to justify…
But there stands one soul, whose words do magnify,
Their love spreading thru asphyxiating air to clarify.
...background music by 'The Metal Heroes'
A tool tribute band... copy of 'Sinkfist'
Using a male virtual voiceover
June.24.2019
More To Me Poetry
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
Placed 1'st...
Premiere Contest...
Thank You
Categories:
demigods, jesus, judgement, spoken word,
Form:
Rhyme
From devadasi in temples to women of the streets,
Form hooker to harlot,
From courtesan to call girl,
Whether a paramour in the hands of wealth,
Or a Whore engaging in promiscuous sexual intercourse,
So many names and so many fames,
Above all I am a human being too,
Often referred as the lady of the evenings,
People forget that I also have mornings,
I use my body for lewd purposes,
But this is my job may be the worst of all,
This is not for pleasure, greed or money,
I am trapped to this vicious world,
These callous men turned me a used good,
Now whom to be blamed?
This society calls me ‘Characterless’
Because I pledged my dignity for this profession,
May be the oldest of all,
I never dreamt of marriage,
I am an impoverished cultural outcast,
I am excommunicated,
I work in darkness,
And that’s why people fail to see me in light,
But Menaka, Rambha, Urvashi, and Thilothamma,
The celestial demigods – who are they?
Indian mythology says this as high-class prostitution?
This is the harsh reality,
I spare myself for making you elated
But you brand me the “curse of this society “
I never look at my mirror with joy
My own reflection titters at me
I see only destation and revulsion around me,
I scream in agony and excruciation
But for people they are pleasure sounds and sex noises,
I have dissolved my high spirits in the ocean of Hedone
Where my conventionality and morality have gone invisible,
Now I stand before this society as a misanthropist,
An elite lady – who changes her boy friend every now and then,
I love my John just for few minutes,
I eventually break up for the next John to stay,
When I walk down the streets I never look up,
For the eyes of women fend off,
For the eyes of men fond off,
They rate me based on complexion,
Being a black seducer I am paid low
But none discovered my hearts white glow,
From a lad to a gray man,
All try to touch my skin,
But none so far have tried to touch my soul
For them I am a doll – without feelings or pain,
But for me no pain no gain,
I can never change this world,
Or the way they treat me,
Likewise I can never change myself,
Or the way I treat my men.
I am searching my bright future in the night,
And I call this my nocturnal life.
BY,
MADHUPRIYA SHANMUGAM
Categories:
demigods, anxiety, cry, dark, depression,
Form:
That answer to that is painfully simple: I’m a disabled, thirty-something individual with compromised mobility…and I’m a lazy S.O.B...
But, oh, how I fantasize! And loath am I to torture myself by looking at all the exquisite, fabulous fashion creations by Versace, Comme Des Garcons, Missoni and Vivienne Westwood; elegant creations I will never be able to wear, let alone afford. Though I enjoy being a man and would have it no other way, I envy women and sometimes wish I was one, just so I could wear a Versace gown, even if it were just to take out the trash.
I worship fashion and models; they are my demigods. They embody all that is outwardly beautiful. I don’t mind the shallowness of it. I wish I was Coco Rocha, Naomi Campbell, Janice Dickinson, Linda Evangelista, Tyra Banks, Milla Jovovich, all rolled into one. I wish I could strut and stomp the catwalk; to pound the runway in some outrageous creation by Rei Kawakubo. To jet-set to Paris, Milan, Tokyo, London…! I would die and go to fashion heaven, and see Gianni, and I would be his Muse. Poor, Gianni; why did that bastard kill you? Genius was lost that day and fashion has since suffered in your absence.
I wish I was as skillful with sewing as I am with words; since I’ll never be a model, I’d at least like to design clothes that would echo my influences. A mesh of the sex of Versace, the elegance of Missoni, the insane artistic destruction and anti-fashion of Comme des Garcons and the hipness of Vivienne Westwood; yes, that would be my style, as my poetry echoes Poe, Shelley, Keats and Dickinson.
But, alas and alas again! For these are all but mere dreams and fantasies that shall never be fulfilled! But a gay boy can dream, can’t he?
Categories:
demigods, art, beauty, desire, imagination,
Form:
Narrative
Prayers descend like acid rain from
oligarch-soaked manchurians, stumping
for elected office, praising hybrid
demigods, passing out vouchers to the
peasants.
A slow rumbling-
part of the night-sounds-of-curfew;
descends like fire ants.
Cleaners of the guilt, hidden in plain faith,
unable or unwilling to walk, feign
blindness, darkness helps.
Cellphone towers only reflect scripted
light, as memories of real sunshine, fade
to black. A good cup of coffee is hard to
find, all the fine beans were swept away
early on, replaced by dancing bears,
politely ignored. Thunderclouds, imagined
in shapes of our founding fathers,
encourage the deluge, slowly ascending.
Underground-
a grim band-of-believers watch (again)
a pirated tape of their favorite '80's movie,
'They Live' from the fabled city called the
new capital in 'The Postman' Minneapolis..
while the tormented sounds of-
plows
scraping overhead, and
hydrants,
bellys full, feeding power washers,
cascade
over hardened
faces.
05/11/14
minneapolis
© All Rights Reserved
Categories:
demigods, allusion,
Form:
Free verse
Straight rows of soft chairs, larval eyes stare blank
Absorbed by glowing colors on the wall
Their jaws slack, fetid whiff, unwashed and dank
Arrested minds the blue screen does enthrall
Their horticulture, growing docile strains
Indulge the twisted whims our lords conceive
The whores to culture, placid in their chains
Reclining prostrate, ready to believe
Our nation’s spirit sinking to expire
Omniscient demigods behind the screen
Transmuting our light to synthetic ire
Red, white, and blue bows to red, blue and green
Unconscious fulcrum, force you can’t deny
Black keys in gray hands of the puppet priest
Subliminal, no chance to wonder why
Clandestine reins pulled taut, they lead the beast
Imbue the symbol with gilt qualities
Admire how they conspire, our life rewired
Such dazzling tricks to blind the polity
In breaded, cheap amusements, we are mired
Our brave new virtual reality
With hidden craft, untruth is overlayed
Eclipsed sun darkens to totality
Beneath benighted noon we walk as day
Predicted, instinct’s base reaction known
To tidal waves of violence and sex
Minds titillated by distraction’s bone
From our Media-Government Complex
Our internecine hatreds stoked, inflamed
Creating and enhancing the divide
True culprits are protected, victims blamed
Incessant war, the great rift yawning wide
Unseemly freedoms have been made taboo
Renouncing power, most don’t even grieve
Relieved to give up guns and money too
Behind red tape and laws lurk skulking thieves
Resounding echoes, our once great New World
Through wavelengths, diodes, context redefined
Cold software guiding social plots unfurled
Far colder people fine-tune the hive mind
Inheritors of might presume the role
Unburdened by the ballast of remorse
Their dark ascent to power and control
Soul-searing wind as you climb to the source
Some zealots hold that this is Satan’s world
Each object of desire imbued with blight
Much clearer when the plan becomes unfurled
So glaring it becomes they have the right
This morbid monolith, our freedom’s bane
Temptation steals your breath, you’d best beware
Choose reason in a world that’s gone insane
Reclaim your only soul and say a prayer
© Thomas W. Quigley
7/17/16
Mostly Iambic Pentameter
Categories:
demigods, america, political, power,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
If You Think...
If you think a love like a mother will exist, there and then
You must have been building castles in the air and thus
Need a medic or an injection to kill that feeling of an outcast-
A shadow of falsehood you’ve been chasing.
Friends like mothers will exist no doubt about that
I'm but particular about if boldly will exist in instant world, where
Sailing through has no backfire or low indignation, where
Right to freedom and possession would not be denied, where
Behind your backs, you would have all sides’ safety
Like the baby in the mother's womb, or the sun in the sky.
A bounty ground, a must be aftermath of the journey on free
Bridge on the cross roads, and lanes, and water, and bushes
Over the mountain; the rock, the valley and the hill, and on the
Troubled memory of liquors, women, demigods and kings of miseries?
Water full of love is only a reservoir for the Creator asides mothers.
I may be viewed as uncivilized or sound barbaric by this logic, but reasons
Will proclaim reality in my tone, stand and modest mood.
“Ease! Be at ease!!” The breeze from the mothers’ bosom’s recollections sway, that
Your mind would seek forgiveness and refuge from her, then the All Forgiver. Then true
Mind will redeem and have the lasting rest of his life, yield to and fulfill mother’s wish.
A.O
19/2/2014
________________________________________
Note: Mothers addressed here may not necessarily be ones biological mother. It could be he or she who is never sick or tired of listening to you, hearing your plights or problems and helping you proffer solutions to them. He or she never discourages, never over-pampers and pray for your success at all times...
________________________________________
Please visit "About this poem"
Categories:
demigods, forgiveness, mother, nature, philosophy,
Form:
Acrostic
We read concupiscently
of little women and little men
of entertainment,
great singers
of our littleness
and of the greatness of their pools
and of their ty flirtations.
We read of their anxieties, their dark periods,
of the cuckold subtly bent
to a discount psychology,
of how they mess with it with their accountants.
Who cares about the slime
and the jubilation of these unpunished demigods,
of their plastic haloes,
of the navigated sons of es,
of the tinkling glamour
and the vermilion colours of their lips,
that hide smiles
winking at the queue on the red carpet.
off
Then big people
from the small glow of bodies
but from the great glitter of placid mirages
and lovely, die.
Little old world friends die,
that you read on Facebook,
and yes, you grasp the meaning of things
you get dizzy, caught up in the futile whiteness
of the infinite number of universes
with infinite stories, wavering
but proudly resist to the anonymous
sepulchral,
to the slow fading,
like tears in a toxic rain
and dirty with mud
and oil.
This is my world,
theirs is a mirage I hope does not come true,
even if it tempts me.
Here the closing there is not,
Here the closing is the world that will come,
if it will come
Categories:
demigods, deep,
Form:
Free verse
for Alan Painter
I have put into many ports
labelled:
handle with care
stood on the wharfs, bare-shouldered
up to the knee, unloading
cashew and coconuts
and then set sail again
finding no substance to trade
with
I have seen the waters rising
and the walls submerge
the roofs converge
the children washed on
the battlements
I have heard the chasm cries
Stifled under jackboots
the whimpering against walls
lost somewhere
in the hoarse
Gött mit Uns !
Come home, she cried,
strappadoed
in the lap of jettisoning tribes
Come home, my weary ones
home to toil and die
labour and sigh
curse and cry
Did he not withdraw to that
holy backwater by Milan
and with the cup of his Confessions
bathe his horrent sins away
I listened to a story
that our first quarter
remembered to tell
but the waters of the Himavant
had long curdled
in the breast
of the suttee wife
I listened long
in the myopic light
disfigured in the white heat
of our Enlightenment
to the trapped voices of inquiry
before all the mania of demigods
trumped through the weaning years
in
the delirious lust of revenge
And then, and then I
did not care what happened
what could happen
there was life
it was worth having
So I went
labelled: handle with care
Who are those people
skimming past the mortal coast
torch untouched by hand
in the drowning mists
have they no work to do
And that rope of smoke
A troubling dizziness
rising out of the funnel
of the Black Forest
where professors they say
guide the race
in the aftermath
of charred marrow
tissue
brain
Yet
I see no mists, no ghosts
No coasts, only torches
and parades and blocks and blocks
of beering beef and munition mounds
and in the not too open days
froth in the lolling oceans
and bowelling brain-splattered skies
even like unmapped sunset glories
now the Krakatua lies spent
fished out of some Japanese isle
the false auroras of enchanting horizons
when soughing metallic dust
courses through skulls
lava in an epileptic fit
(...continued in Part Two)
Categories:
demigods, war,
Form:
Free verse
All for one
None for all
A house of cards that will
Bring about a great fall
Only a select few
Can spellbound the masses
Becoming Kings and Queens
With illegitimate claims to fame
We lift them up high
On a plinth made of our backbones
We the new third estate
Glorify them as demigods
Who conquered us all
With just a little bit of gloss
We are their slaves
Enthralled to them
We give them all
Unholy wolves
Swaddled in wool are they
Devouring all with their avaricious mind-set
We pay them tithe
Which they feel is rightly theirs
The public purse is for them alone
Everyone else must get by on their own
Just a few control the building blocks of society
An inbred top heavy hierarchy
That exert undue pressure downwards
Maiming those they lord over
Stymieing their advancement
A limited gene pool of ideas and talent
Hinders the legacy
That today passes to the future
A sure way for eventual extinction
A very sad prophecy
Selfishness and graft
Erode decency in society
Harassing the pillars of unity
Resentment thus festers
Those in the middle
Are full of hyperbole
Their spiel of being undervalued
Naught but insouciant drivel
They craftily forget
The power they wield
And the economic gains they do so
Hard to conceal
Society must benefit if we aim for equality
Those that contribute
Must see their labour bear fruit
All and sundry must get a slice
Of the overburdened public pie
Categories:
demigods, social, society,
Form:
Free verse
Reaching to heights like Everest,
Searching for a love so best,
Journeyed from East through West,
Just looking for someone to bring first.
Your love caught my heart like a spider,
And your belle-visage broke my heart insitu.
The smile that weakens me is from my lover,
The lips that bears my all is you.
Voluptuousness well defined,
Skin silk and curvature redefined,
Beauty natural underlined,
Not even demigods undermine.
Well mannered is that of my lover,
Immensely calculated proving wiser,
Respect and politeness in all her endeavors,
Thus I call her the real lover.
Dear my Dearest,
Forever you come first,
In my heart you will remain the best,
Shift my heart into your nest,
For you are my dearest.
Categories:
demigods, i love you, romantic,
Form:
Lyric
I have been dropped. I fall fast,
Plunging into rage.
Inanimate.
I have no feelings or thoughts.
My end is to expose,
The cardinal demigods.
Through heartache and devastation no person should feel.
I fall, oblivious, augmenting anguish to everything,
Here and there.
Categories:
demigods, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
So where did all the flowers go when the lights went out?
And sunset plunged beyond the rim of planet’s earthly crust?
It rained a constant torrent in the middle of a drought,
Global warming brought a chill, of irony it must.
Where have all the prisoners gone, missing from the cells?
To roam with sheer impunity upon the city streets,
To murder, rape and plunder through a multitude of hells,
Where innocents surrender to political deceits.
Where resides humanity on backdrops of despairing?
Casinos spawned in super size, hard drugs dispensed with ease,
Cessation of integrity, of common sense, of caring,
As demigods smile dissolute through tabloid greed and sleaze.
In hope of one last favour when I am dead and gone,
That carved into my gravestone be my chosen epitaph,
When they lay the granite monolith into the emerald lawn,
Let the fascia legend say the words: “It only hurts when I laugh.”
Categories:
demigods, allegory, history, life, people,
Form:
Verse
The soul of a soldier it keeps marching on...from battles behind to battles beyond
As blood soaks the soil life seeds sprout from death
protecting stray sheep
protecting lost lambs
As bullets hit helmets and they die in their boots
Still the soul of a soldier fights for freedom and truth
The soul of a soldier never once counts the cost
Obeying their orders...only counting what's left and never what's lost
paying the price with life,love and limbs
Doing Gods work with hard and holy hands
Bringing beauty to ugliness and peace in war lands
The soul of a soldier...past,present and future
With missions to stop the worlds cold chaos creatures
From psychopathic preachers in pulpits
To demon driven demigods
From Hussiens to HItlers
Josef Stalins to Jim jones
Through Blood and bones and bravery
With courage they kill cowardice and bring joy to misery
The soul of a soldier never rests or relents cause there's always more battles as the
day never ends
with the sun on the horizon and the moon still hovers
The souls of those soldiers are like prophets of power
Categories:
demigods, warsoldier,
Form:
Rhyme