Best Disfiguring Poems
Let me be the first
to have the audacity to translate,
This piece of mystery molded
in a magical meadow of mistakes,
The reckless subject, there,
just standing still like a landscape of order,
Disfiguring a flow of ridged ribbons
in shapes of unheard names,
Carelessly manipulating my optical
constructors to articulate promises
from paper wings,
Bewitched by the light warm
slash of sun laid upon the raging tides
within trembling silence,
How far charms can go to seduce their
way into a destructive satisfaction,
Might it'd been too kind to dry brush
around the edges of your shadows,
When the basement of your
intentions homed disturbing dreams,
Hunting for the tremors from
freezing nightmares that pray to
bury my ocean and all it's devotion,
Where do the ones who
seek the sins of lost words hide?
While half of the living cling
onto the drifting light,
This shrewd figure that clasps on
the thousand synonyms of shallow tears,
Whisking a bath of blades for
my pane of glass that hold scads of scars,
The pace of time, travels differently
when I try to captivate you through my sketches,
I am told by the tones of my pencil,
that your armor shields a menacing maniac,
Too cowardly to battle for your own persistence,
So hold on to what's left of your timid thoughts,
Sadly strength has long evaded you.
Categories:
disfiguring, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
The things I've been, the things I have been, the things I am, things I'm to be,
a symbol so dark, a sign so brite, a mark of the heart,
shadow of the soul,
rind of mind,
as the Buddhist meditates on mandalas of rich color,cycles,devas,dangers & devotions
I embrace the world with all my senses, with vigilance,
riled rhapsody,
Christians sewing psalms into the conscious
confounded with temptation, condemnation & damnation,
as Buddhists focused towards an ineffable destination
my terminus is an awareness that explains purpose without pain or pleasure
but with an indomitable patience for being in perfection,
as blue is blue for blue,
Freemasons have their acacia & aprons,
the magic of History, of memory, of Brotherhood,
I shall memorize the wrong & right of my behavior, of my beliefs,
carry the cross of carelessness, rub beads of bemusement,
scratch thy palms upon the rough ashlar,
bleed for the sake of beauty, for the right of recognition,
as a hawk glides and swoops with an exactitude
reminding One not to waste effort, to combine instinct & strategy
into trusted tactics, salvation found in solitude,
intuition aimed at the heavens can demonstrate
there is knowledge in not knowing,
serenity can be secured through suffering, happiness in creative endurance,
a nomad, a monk, mother of a nobody
may teach that freedom is measured as strength through degrees,
chessmen bespeak the value of loyalty & sacrafice,
police have a badge, judges gavels, bankers use notes, psychologists study dreams,
artists utilize shapes & sounds to elicit feelings
evoking meaning for life,
perhaps superstition is ultimate motivation,
subjective & collective interpratations for reality which make it all tolerable,
that special definition making life personal,
when a culture abandons, or forgets the symbols of it's constructs
how can it survive,
continuity can not color & inspire posterity,
a tree without water,
as when a human neglects itself,
disfiguring the ideal into something rueful or baleful,
then the mystic symbol must change with it
as rich soil to mud,
the symbology survives, elastic and plastic like a spider web in the wind,
nature will always reconstruct,
teaching that our lives are inflamed imprints for the future -
J.A.B.
Categories:
disfiguring, blue, endurance, nature,
Form:
Didactic
Almost a century ago
Innocent blood was spilt
Almost a century ago
But there remains the guilt
The world must acknowledge
The Armenian genocide
The blood won’t wash away
There is no place to hide
One million and a half
Of Armenians met death
Their hopes and dreams extinguished
Gone out with their last breath
The women brutally raped
And their husbands shot or hung
How many of their songs
To this day remain unsung
The children weak and fragile
Dying for want of some bread
Left in the desert to die
Buzzards flying overhead
The sick and the elderly
Were discarded on the way
No one to weep and mourn
When their bodies saw light of day
The mothers dying slow deaths
Seeing children turn to bone
Wanting to feed them their flesh
Knowing they’ll not see them grown
The young girls flying off cliffs
Rather than suffer disgrace
Others hiding their beauty
By disfiguring their face
The soldiers with stone hearts
Deaf to the moaning sounds
Of the dead and the dying
Strewn on the desert ground
Faceless nameless people
Identity stripped away
Not honored with a number
In this gruesome tragic play
Their blood is crying out
Like faithful Abel of old
Still demanding justice
Their story must be told
The genocide of my people
Was not hidden from God’s eyes
The world may now deny it
May feed naive people lies
But every single blood drop
Will be accounted for one day
The murderers will face judgment
To escape- there’ll be no way
The Judgment day is coming
My people will see the light
They will be vindicated
They will march out of death’s night.
They will be reunited
With loved ones that they have lost
For their souls we now seek justice
We will achieve it at all cost.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Categories:
disfiguring, judgement, murder, racism,
Form:
Quatrain
Whose “image and likeness”
I ache as my spirit recoils, denies
the truth of what we have become.
…in his image and likeness..
surely there could not be
a “god” so disfigured, so ugly
as to hate its offspring,
send assassins into our midst,
fill our “prayers” with doubt and distress
sicken our spirits with the apathy of acquiescence,
abandon us to our acceptance of evil.
I grieve all death as it depletes
the fullness of our entwined spirits
drains the sap from our tree of life
denies a never formed branch existence
depletes the chorus of its fullness.
I weep in sorrow for the body of man
bleeding slowly from self inflicted wounds
blinded by the horror that it sees
unable to fulfill life’s simplest need
consumed with petty enmity and hate
children the sacrificial lambs of fate.
I am angry with this “disfiguring” god
enraged that he would tar us with this brush
paint caricatures of our souls
default dominion - this worlds debauchery.
I am appalled that men can do to men
such that the soul would favor hell
over living in the squalor of despair
seeking mercy from a god who’s disappeared.
John G. Lawless
6/19/2015
Categories:
disfiguring, anger, hate, religion, sorrow,
Form:
Free verse
Like the rapist
and the molester,
a nose-cutter with
chilling impulses
emerges from
mind’s murky nook.
He always drops
atrocities
in his wife-bin.
Male chauvinism
creates a
concentration camp
in her kitchen
and bed-room.
He’s her gadget
producing
hypertension.
Her nose ring
is not
merely a metal,
but a
charm-multiplier.
Alas!
Teeth of his machete
take off the tip
of her nose,
demanding
the dowry due,
disfiguring…
Red woman sap
oozes,
staining...
First published in The Literary Hatchet
Categories:
disfiguring, life,
Form:
Free verse
TORNADO SEASON
storms
of spring
happening
disfiguring
squalls
~
flash
of light
reveals plight
roar of thunder
quick
~
hiss
of train
the cyclone
slithers like a
snake
4/4/2017
Brian Strand’s Standard Contest
Lanterne Form
Categories:
disfiguring, weather,
Form:
Lanterne
If time wasn’t linear
and life was an orbit,
pain couldn’t make me old
and age wouldn’t sound morbid.
I’d know every ending
would only bring pause;
that birth was just as relevant
as any loss.
I’d know eyes are subjective,
and the mind is a trap
disfiguring reality
like a folded map.
Doubt will provide distance
like a neighbor’s fence
as pictures and frames
attempt to capture innocence.
And love is the answer
that will set you free,
unless you’re a hostage
in its captivity:
begging for release
or at least a transfer
like the sweetest memory
too painful to remember.
But life lasts longer
than the gifts we have to give
and it’s not about what’s lost,
but what you can’t live with
that ultimately will dictate
the silence and the sorrow;
that leaves you grieving yesterday
and dismissing tomorrow.
You followed the rules;
you kept your hands to yourself.
But you’re the one person
you never knew how to help.
You say people are leaves:
they change color and fall,
and just before their death,
they’re the center of it all -
the years of emotion
that finally surface,
and, in a brief moment,
give those years purpose.
And we mourn a death
or a life is celebrated.
And we rot in the ground
or we’re reincarnated.
The weak and compassionate
struggle to move on
as a cycle returns to its origin
and time moves along.
Two generations later,
bones lay in a coffin
beneath an engraved stone
that’s nearly forgotten.
Categories:
disfiguring, death, life, loss, love,
Form:
Rhyme
How strong is your love?
Should a rather cruel fate befall me;
a disfiguring accident robbing me of
what first attracted you to me, what you
found most sexy about me, my pulchritude.
Would you still love me?
How deep is your devotion?
Suppose I told you I had a checkered past,
an uncomfortable truth, a secret I kept
from you, dreadfully afraid you'd leave me.
Once a troubled youth, now a changed man.
Would you still love me?
If you fell hopelessly in love with me
mostly due to my unshakable faith in God,
and we nourished a promise to grow old
together, and I somehow lose my faith,
doubtful I'll ever regain it.
Would you still love me?
If I gave in to temptation, a weakness
once and only once, even though
I love you desperately, and you see it clearly
every hour of every day. I swear on my life, to God,
to never again repeat my careless mistake.
Would you still love me?
We had the world on a string. Life with me,
so grand, rich, a bed of roses; the future
couldn't be more auspicious! If due to circumstances
beyond my control, however, it all went belly-up
I, the breadwinner, now struggle to support you
My darling, would you still love me?
Date written and posted: 12/05/2018
Categories:
disfiguring, change, devotion, faith, love,
Form:
Free verse
How the disfiguring shadows blend
And fluctuate in streams,
When waits the final journey’s end
Concluding points of dreams;
And then bestow a burning kiss
Upon the lips and skin,
For what remains is only this,
When life is gathered in.
How the irreverent visions form
With claims to clearly stake,
And disembark into the storm
That promises to break;
And then concoct a rapid fire
Revolving door parade,
Relentless in a wild desire
For what was never made.
How the heart it hungers on
And craves with famished need,
For she who years before had gone
Yet never did recede;
And still it pines instinctively
For she who ruled the day,
The love and beauty that was she
Cast thoughtlessly away.
Categories:
disfiguring, lost love, love,
Form:
Verse
(please note dunners are debt collectors)
(Netto is a low cost Supermarket)
In these isles of cheap illusion
the kids run free,
screaming for the sugar of childhood.
While their mother walks on
down wine bottle lane,
to escape life’s demons
for one more day.
The shells of beings look
but do not see.
Part time lives
in worn out trainers
minimum wage to stretch,
their withered faces
all smart price packed,
on another out of date trolley.
Buy one get one free,
a horse burger is a burger
a person is a person.
Each hiding themselves from the world,
Incognito in a world of poverty.
Tomorrow the kids will cry
each will find their jail.
The weight of despair
will sentence their lives
In these streets
You will find a different kind of humanity.
Where social security
hears the dunners knock
and boredom leads to exotic dreams,
wrapped up in foil of rainbow brown.
We all crave the womb
for the world cannot reach us there.
And behind the curtain
the detritus of existence survives.
Old men in young men’s cloths
with regret filled veins
counting the burglars sin
as the blue light of night closes in.
The child becomes a woman
and woman carries the pain.
Another babe born
the hand of indifference
grabs another box
Of powdered baby milk,
for family allowance is her work.
Life belongs to an electric token
and a chip pan of joy
her disfiguring pleasure in life.
These are the isles
where no one has a name
complete with a special offer of sadness.
Existence is a hangover for under a fiver
for this is the sum of life.
and no one will take away
this credit on society
our triple (A) rating of poverty.
Categories:
disfiguring, people, world,
Form:
Free verse
Lost in emotions
Two souls approaching new path
Bitterness adorned
Forgetting love, possibly they shared.
Reasoning on the fights, they had bared.
Manly disfiguring blow.
So possible you know.
Now departing, both no longer paired.
Marriages four, divorced three times now in this life of mine.
If another comes my way, next lover shall be a glass of wine..
For
Sponsor (Destroyer ((Poet
Contest Name ~DIVORCE CLUB~
Categories:
disfiguring, family, funny, husband, introspection,
Form:
Three thousand ginger bread cookies
On a purple path to shade
Twisted Time Diagonally
Elusively Disfiguring Reality
Green was Blue
Blue was Happy
Happy was Sneezy
And the other Six dwarves
never showed
They didn't believe in fairy tales
Time jumped out the window
To see if it could fly
And found out literarily
That Time does not fly
It Bends and Twists,
Manipulates
Sometimes it even Backflips
But Time is different for everyone
"We see what we want to see,"
Time whispers in my ear.
"I see a girl in a coconut bra," I say.
"She's not ready to see you yet," says Time.
"But Why?" I ask.
"The answer will not make you any happier."
Time insists.
"No question or answer ever will."
For some reason
I trust Time's transdimensional perspective
"Then can we stay in this moment forever?"
I ask Time.
"We only believe what we want to believe,"
Time says before Nature and Gravity right Themselves
Causing Motion and Misery and Noise
to hurl itself back into my lap
I hear the clock ticking
And cannot believe that
for one moment
Time stopped
By: Joseph DeMarco
Categories:
disfiguring, philosophytime, time, perspective,
Form:
My heart broken
Sliced
Cut
So deeply
Tiny incisions
They hurt the most
Paper cuts
Thinly
The pain lasts longer that way
The loss I feel
Seeping out in the quiet of the harrowing nights
You break your heart everyday
The moment you wake up
And live without her
Now from inside
It does it of its own free will
My heart is crying
Dying
Disfiguring
Disforming
Birth cord cut like at birth
My Mum died...
Categories:
disfiguring, deathheart, heart, mum,
Form:
Mirrors surround me
I see myself there
A disfigured face
And body within
All aligned so wrong
I dislike the look
That's in the mirrors
It's horror filled
And disgusting view
I want to throw rocks
At the silver lined
False display mirrors
Imaging hatred
Corrupted terror
Displaying so wrong
Hoping that someone
Would come on along
And purposefully
Break the old mirrors
To rid of horror
And the disfiguring
It displays sadly
May I never see
The mirrors that's here
Surrounding me now
Russell Sivey
Categories:
disfiguring, life,
Form:
Verse
I scratch at my rib cage
Nails clawing at my skin
As if I could scrape away
The extra weight I feel I've gained
It's like the devil's inside of me
He's disfiguring my bones
I fall to my aching knees
God make him leave me alone
Trapped inside my eyes I'm screaming
The numbers on my scale are screeching
Their maniacal laughter devours my dreams
Someone save me I'm afraid to sleep
-ARI
Categories:
disfiguring, abuse, angst, anxiety, dark,
Form:
Rhyme