Best Emasculated Poems
I reached out for you once again
after eons of pretence, snobbish disregard
and plain neglect.
Yes I reached out, not with strong steady arms
that usually attend others
but with emasculated courage and battered pride.
Yes indeed I sought you.
I summoned you dear one
from the far far seas where to sail I had cast you
and had briskly walked away
to find solace in another's arms.
So now I sought a vantage point
from whence I could peer
into the darkening horizon
to see your approaching mast.
Yes I did indeed summon you, indeed I did.
Yes I called out for you
to attend me from the depths I had banished you
when life to me had smiled like the morning dew.
Yes indeed I called you,
to serve me in rhythm and imagery
to fill my plate with tone and hue
and soothe me with your rhyms in rhythm.
Yes call you I did, I really did.
So now I lie in the warmth of your words
like a lover cuddled in embrace
as you stroke my erstwhile desolate state
with the stroke of your flowing stanza's
and my heart you've now lulled to a soothing calm
with the rhythm of your crafted lines.
Yes indeed I reached out for you,
for I missed you.
Categories:
emasculated, introspection, on writing and
Form:
Personification
Archetypes flash straight from a pack of Tarot cards
anti-terror Jing Jang synthesis with neuro-spiritual precision
implants explosive animation from the deep unknown
like a taro rootstock growing wings to fly with found suspension
Stereotactic stereotypes archetypes semi-circling soothing storm clouds
thunderbolts and enlightening darkness are my enema of anxious anger critique
of the mono-morph collision of the scalpel shadow ‘Prozacian’ nemesis
neology of ‘animusity’ of ‘newfoundlandel’ comprehension
Dialectical complementation rises higher and higher culminates in
ethereal transcendence where collective personal unconscious
presents my animus in wishful thinking and projections as
soft and gentle revel rebel raising entropy in tender conservation to escape from
Dogma categorically demanding artificial classification replacing with dimension
flow and rivers stagnant pools of stream of consciousness evading
sexist fragmentation disenfranchising marginalisation assigning male
and female emasculated o-variation where seminal origin implantation
Precedes nurture socialised indoctrination assignment of celibate promiscuity
My animus refuses to accept in emotional rejection whether Jung and I read
symbols from the same page or not of masques façades and liberated self
where academic artistry split hairs and personality for the premise of debate
I am a rebel and claim no higher lower ground of superior distension
He or she who animates friendly animosity is right and incorrect whatever
common ground belies the provocation I propose but possibly my
presentation of what others mean in kindness is too neutral neuters psyche
While anima and animus illustrate conclude a symbiotic destination
the starting point of this and that left right up above and side by side
is far too circular an argument when we should start not end in union
Male and female are constructions of disparity of power and repression
Archetypes are not therefore I am
11th June 2016
Animus-Anima Part II—Animus – Poetry Contest
Sponsor Tom Quigley
Categories:
emasculated, men, society, women,
Form:
Free verse
Through the streets of Whitechapel
A monster roamed them all
He left behind a history
Many to enthral
But who knew the romance
The lover behind this affray
He may wield a knife but in fact
Was Jack gay?
A romantic, emasculated by a wife
A sexual experience
Affected him for life
Read about the romance
The lover, murderer too
It's all in my new book
A paranormal tale for you
If you want a good yarn
My book is just a gripper
It's out in November and it’s called Rise of the Ripper
Categories:
emasculated, betrayal, history, romance,
Form:
Couplet
MOTHER GHANA
I was told about your retrospect, after that scene, I burst into tears. I learned they came to genuflect like angels and took away your possessions. They dehumanized your progeny like animals. They dragged them as if they wanted to tear. Your progeny toiled just for us to cheer. They (the visitors) hypocritically played the drum expecting your progeny to dance. Your progeny suffered for my emancipation especially when the visitors wanted their nod consolidated. Your bold progeny tried come hell or high water to get it emasculated, but the more they tried, the more it got devastated. They fed your progeny and told them to regurgitate. They forced them with the rod anytime they tried to hesitate. They (the visitors) searched the brave among your progeny and escorted them to the grave. Wherever the deceased are, I pray the creator keeps their souls. You suffered but the battle ended. We thank those who toiled their blood and passed through all holes. We live confidently because of their fight. I couldn't stand the sight when I watched pictographic scenes of the battle. We were discarded but have been found. Today is your day for you were freed this day. Although I am happy, I am sad and I hope you know why. You were freed long ago but as if we have reached an impasse, we can't go. Anytime I think about it, I have no option than to sigh. Your present progeny need to wake up and work relentlessly, for your name should climb higher than I can see. You deserve the world's priority for you suffered immensely. It is unequivocal that your womb is blessed. We see bloody things in your neighbor's houses but we live happily on your compound. Awake present progeny and make your mother proud. You have tried but looking at your mother's grief, it is very minimal............HAPPY INDEPENDENCE DAY TO ALL GHANIANS
Categories:
emasculated, art, fun, happy, inspirational,
Form:
Lyric
"Once upon a time," my grandfather used to say,
Our homeland was awesome to behold.
Lush green mountains beautiful to behold,
Surrounded by forests unravished and virgin,
Wild creatures prancing and happy birds chirping,
Men and animals had respect for one another.
The air smelt of peace and the land was pure,
Crystal clear rivers, home to healthy fauna and flora,
Borded from the land by rich mangroves,
The beauty of nature unveiled, unperturbed.
"Those were the good old days" he would say.
"Things are no longer the same" my father would say.
The world has been turned upside down,
There is hardly a tree left in our forests.
The mountains now look like heaps of sand,
Wild creatures lament the threat of extinction,
The songs of the birds are undulating dirges,
A cold war ensues between man and the creatures.
Poisoned air reverberates the atmosphere,
The purity of the land is lost to civilization.
Fauna and flora mourn the living-dead state of rivers,
Exposed further by the emasculated mangroves.
Everything judged before the judgement day.
"Things have fallen apart" he would say.
Where have the lush green mountains gone to?
What became of the unravished virgin forests?
How did the wild creatures all disappear?
Why do the birds sing only songs of sorrow?
Which substance transformed the fresh and peaceful air?
Who polluted the rivers and endangered fauna and flora?
These are questions I dread when I tell my children stories.
Peter Obiora Edoziem.
Categories:
emasculated, visionary, green, mountains,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The man who made his meddle outta' sand,
came to my hand,
and I kept on begging for a chant,
from god-
the angels,
or even the damned.
This locust creeped'
into that big house by the street,
into the cracks
that leaked out the meek,
caused my tree's their little leafs,
and my cats their skis,
I had no proof to see,
but it really happened to me...
That one day at the Peet's-
that one hour of peace,
the crease in the page had folded awesomely,
at the perfect degree.
The sun sparkling,
my eye's dozily-
crosses into the rolling scheme,
and then I become the poetry,
lust gets forgotten,
power emasculated,
hours infatuated,
sourcrout steak being heated to the core,
girls go out the door,
begging in pours,
become seated on the porch,
sipping tea and eating dessert,
never having to flirt,
always having a turn,
oh yes-
come in and become the stress-
come into the best,
and then take home your vest.
Categories:
emasculated, beauty, happiness, memory, peace,
Form:
Verse
Forgiven Again
****
Human
In absolute duress
Frantically abandon Eden
Plagued by a menacing darkness
Apparition transform into Seraphim
Extinguishing flames of hopelessness
Rejuvenate emasculated mortal skin
Hearts atone then spirit rejoices
As love descend from heaven
A new advent arises
Forgiven
Again
Penned: 02/12/2010
4:45 p.m.
Aboard cruise liner, "Radiance of the Seas"
Floating on an ocean--somewhere
Categories:
emasculated, angel, anxiety, forgiveness, hope,
Form:
Rhyme
Babysitting bloody goats,
Babysitting bloody goats,
Baaaa baaaa twinkletoes has notes,
Trying to get some bloody sleep,
Sounds like a rabid rancid sheep,
a lonesome goat, you know it,
wheres that bloody clive a sitting,
climbing screen doors, its not quiting,
Sue heard one on the ole tin roof,
twinkle toes tap tap 2 do it?
Blaurgggggght says the nanny goat,
Crazy bludger's tunes out of note,
Drops poor ole Johnson in it?
Ferret dog emasculated,
Banged and thumped and castigated,
Head butted by 2 nannies sure,
Doesn’t want it any more,
Sidestepping Ferret voted!
Waiting for ole Clive to come,
With the red van goats do hum,
Head butting ole screen door,
Blaurgh where are you clive, whaffor?
Goat chops for tweededum,
Cant eat your mates they hum,
Be quiet my moral core,
They won….Don Johnson
https://www.facebook.com/don.johnson.
79219/posts/10203114820445074?comment_
id=10203114886406723&offset=0&total_comments=7
Categories:
emasculated, adventure,
Form:
Ballad
Never trust a woman with a stick
Allegros slow Andantes quick
It starts when Passionata comes on stage
Hips controlled feet detache dress in style
lento firm lips betray a smile
Rehearsals can be so deathly sweet
Routined (in mind) commence polyphony
hoping for a firm sure beat
She steps upon the stand with grace
Checks (includes her undergarments) that
We're all in place then
Taps the flowered rack
All players
men emasculated
women stuck to chairs
instantly repond (with silent prayers)
Egmont is chosen for the overture
The long tutti fortissimo is SICK!
QUICK!
Trumpets trombones French horns
empty valves of spit
Woodwinds check their springs
the reeds for grit
The entire string section pluck their strings
but OH!
The bloody tambourine
shaken on its stand rolls off of it
and down each riser in jingling fit
Passionata breathes contemptuous
sighs
rapture flash of victory in her eyes
At last a chirptwittering laugh
patronizing glance to all
(especially the men)
"Shall we" rising to her tallest fullest
"try it once again"
Categories:
emasculated, confusion, funny, music
Form:
Free verse
Wicked is, wicked does
Wicked do evil
Evil don’t know love
Stony dead eyes,
with living hair of snakes
Medusa seduction ...
femme fatale embrace
Don’t look in the mirror,
she might be wearing your face
Vanity mask a gender bender disguise:
You can reign inside of her,
if you’re willing to be force fed
daily all of her vulnerable victim sad cries
You can dominate over him,
if you just submit to being bound
in the needy chains of his emasculated pride
The face of Medusa
ain’t gon set your gargoyle spirit free
In your frozen power pose,
you’re gonna grieve ... seeing the rare butterflies floating free
Those who were cocooned from the deadly gaze
that brought your doom,
in which you are now entombed
The beautiful winged ones burst free from saving captivity,
by looking within at their own sins
Now they’re flying free ... heavenly bound to glory,
and the face that they’ll see
will be the revealed Omnipotent express image of Love
That is as it should be
Children of eternity hate the mirrored reflection of Medusa
Writhing deadly, the face of the stony seductress be ...
tempting you to cast aside all morality
The chimera face of Medusa —
this is the cold reflection you coveted to see,
it’s the coldness you desired to breathe
The stone-cold evil you aspired to be
The hydra eyes of Medusa —
this is the terrifying image you wanted others to see,
it’s their fear you love to taste when they can’t breathe
The cult worship you inspired
to feed your Medusan vanity ... looks that kill, lustily
Getting snake bitten is your devil’s reward,
your fallen cherubic destiny
Categories:
emasculated, allusion, dark, gothic, wisdom,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Armageddon wold be an amazing boon
to accompany ourselves amidst others in rubble strewn cocoon
or perchance an arid extra dry spell blows humungous dune
donning any brave soul to weather
fierce-some dust bowl appearing like a ghoulish goon
vis a vis via global sand man disallowing any inhabitant 2b immune
whereat autumnal days will mimic those analogous to tropical June
day where nary a species of flora nor fauna,
which latter muffled cry viz Claire de lune
barely heard above the blindingly pitched
(scoring major lunar home run) when earth's moon
appeared to be batted, snatched, and whacked -
piñata like casting darkness at high noon
this out of other worldly debacle
(viz: a scene of apocalyptic, cosmic and epic rune
from twilight zone re: outer limits offsetting
sole millennial Gaia satellite believed rigged forever) -
which end of planetary status quo came soon
er than expected, accompanied by Gustav Holst eponymous tune
once Luna rung seismically, titanic ally uprooted, violently wrenched
prior to crash landing at ground zero rocked and rolled out of orbitz
before careering, and screaming thru the atmosphere
analogous to a near full term baby in utero yanked out of womb.
though the above dynamic gigantic jack-knifed
nihilistic quantum spectacular universal wreckage
sans the inner sphere of solar system
(known to mankind, when said creature, an outlier)
whence even amidst the early
bipedal hominids that throve a sage
no event (whether natural or caused by human error),
would compare neither cap cha, when are bit rage
emasculated, and wrought onto the terrestrial firmament
no way to measure nor gauge
the depth, length, and scope of total and
absolute value eradicating any trace of simian equipage
reducing the arrogant, conceited, ego-maniacal, dotage
boot far-fetched science fiction phenomena would
witness civilization captive in their own technological cage!
Categories:
emasculated, allusion, angst, conflict, grave,
Form:
I find it humorous how folks like to say, "multicultural",
Multicultural is a very safe euphemism,
For it euphemizes mass incarceration and exploitation.
It enables organizations to create one slot for any brown, yellow, or red character
and call themselves "progressive".
Meanwhile we brown, yellow, red, and black, fight like dogs for their approval.
Well I say, their approval is of little consequence, for it is God that they must
ultimately answer.
And God sees all.
Black People, Black Queers, Black Rape Victims, are not multicultural.
We did not come here with hope, we came here in bondage and have been in
bondage ever since!
How many times must I listen to so called allies say, "But what about the
Vietnamese, for they have issues too?"
As if it should be my added burden to make sense of their problems?
My people built this nation plain and simple.
They worked for no wages and built the foundation for American prosperity.
And now "progressive" liberals think that they can grasp this experience?
How I ask you?
How can they know?
As they struggle to empathize from their rooftops.
From rooftops all people look the same.
It is only from the street that one can grasp the nuances.
Black women are not multicultural.
They are the recipients of an abominable legacy of injustice which continues ad-
nauseum.
I challenge anyone who thinks they understand, to humble themselves and
finally deign to ask me for my opinion.
For I have lived the hell of miscegenation! And the sodomy of emasculated
voices in alliances on this and that.
And even as you read this, your minds are too numb to grasp the full measure of
its venom.
And still, God loves me too.
Venom and all.
For God is not afraid of the requeim that awaits us.
No God is not afraid at all.
Categories:
emasculated, angst, black african american,
Form:
Didactic
Martin,
Not the German patrician, his vision was a stair
But our own peaceful prince
Well he invoked you
And not by calling Samuel back from the dead
He invoked you as seeker
He invoked as our searcher
For history, he said, is built on truth
No, not the lineal story
Of one race's glory on my marginality
Our history is always a collective place
A yard of memory
Where we meet at evening to tell
The honey and milk
Of our emasculated hell.
There is no dying here
How can we
What will the predator parasite live on then
So we are made
Zombies of an eternal pain
And you
Our seeker for the antidote
Between Fiske and Berlin
Here we come again
First son to be honored there
Among the ivy league
The doctor to proclaim
Himself one tenth of all of us
With the same double consciousness
Was it not for Fanon
I almost converged to the monstrosity
But then looking back
Over the Pan-African Secretariat
I knew we will never be divided again
So easily
Just rivers of different colors
Destined to end our struggle
Down awful topography of mountains
Down the callous memory of history
Between the churning white teeth of the sea
From my bridge
I watched that wave rise and fall
A thousand times
Pushing us against gravity.
Garvey would agree with me then
He would shake his head
When you were fled to Ghana
When the merging was no longer tenable
For a man lie to himself only for so long
While he searches for truth
I heard the abeng blow to call you home
William ... was not found in their register
William ... he was a Norse conqueror
Edward ... and all of them spineless kings
Burghardt ... and you ask me why
Why should not a thing like this make Africa invisible?
Du Bois ... so you mapped all the colonizers in your name
No, not you,
Our parents always conscious of their power
Yet I knew every cocoon
Is just another state of cobweb
And you would broke free
And many evenings I see you
Just flying on a page of empty sky.
Categories:
emasculated, history, peopleme,
Form:
Free verse
Ooh Lord,
Lost between files, forgotten in daily schedules
slipping away in the daily humdrum of dear life
and quietly ebbing from my mind is a verse.
Of the warm embrace of the yellow orb that attends my mornings,
And of the friendly chatter and heavy pats that at times encapsulate my afternoons,
Of the sounds of lowing of cattle with their clanging bells that I yearn for in my evening, sauntering from the rolling hills yonder into the open kraals besides the warm smoking huts,
And of the patter patter of the of the pearly ocean waves, quietly muffling the hooting madness to gently lull me in my nights.
Or better still of that first warm smile replete with promise, or that parting embrace heavy with looming tear,
Or of gentle pets and carefree laughter in the lush park, or one of a forlorn bench beside a moat of solitude.
Give me time
Before the tender caress of the yellow orb no longer thaws my frame,
And the friendly chatter is quieted to soft sobs,
The heavy pats emasculated to pale caresses of loss,
The lowing of cattle is supplanted by solemn sermon,
The clanging bells begin tolling atop a turret
and the soft patter patter eases in to the unbroken still of placid waters
To pen a verse
Before a warm smile I can no longer partake,
And a sad embrace and the welling tear no longer prick a steely heart,
And a cold frame is no longer attuned to gentle touches and gaily laughter
Before busy schedules ebb away, deadlines fleet, and files dissipate,
Before waters yonder muffle the humdrum of a busy life,
Till only the dregs of a forlorn bench besides the moat of disappointment
quietly attended by all the time I should have penned a verse, is all that remains,
Ooh lord give me time to pen a verse.
Categories:
emasculated, imagination, introspection, on writing
Form:
Imagism
After a lifetime
(pronounced like millennium),
where tenacity futilely braced
psyche deeply purpled,
hellishly, and lethally
traced resulting scars -
jackknifed, emasculated
cruelly chaste
sexuality expired, lapsed,
and petered out testosterone
begone to waste,
and how this abased
bereft of eroded optimism,
nee faith no more - erased,
solitary carbon based animal
coalesced into countless
foreborn generations
(glommed *****sapiens
salient survival skills)
mortified, putrefied, and
stagnated toxic brew
quaffing poisonous
score peon - composite gin,
barley distilled, exiled,
and fragmented
human encased
faculties doggedly
catapulted, with haste
squandered genetic inheritance
kamikaze potential
apathetically plundered, akin
how Hindenburg plummeted
like led zeppelin,
(scare way to craven)
his foghorn emitting distinctive
Semitic bulbous
shofar shaped schnozzle traced
analogous to decrepit son -
dialed helpline to late
promising lad once vaunted
lauded, and
deemed hereditarily, -
he busted great expectations
quintessentially, psycho
socially, and opportunistically
lineage noble storied
standing déclassé debased
forced to take stock at aging
non-thrilled man
in the mirror
haggard heavily creased
doughy paste poker face
(born that way)
blankly stare ring back, spaced
out, no longer boyish,
but gray bearly grizzled,
flecked, and etched stubble,
scraggly unkempt whiskers
discombobulated
straggly matted hair
limply drape stupefied noggin
utterly disc graced
countenance eye spy
crows feet laced
blotchy complexion re: placed
once smooth skin
donned dawning senescence
amplification trumped
"NON FAKE" crudely
aping scrim age lost
fight of his life.
Categories:
emasculated, absence, abuse, allusion, angst,
Form:
Blank verse