Best Excreted Poems
Temple of the Gods
Within the realities, unseen deified admits a parallel preen
A shielded smokescreen for their succus is made unclean
In the matriarchal machine a throne tallat for the Queen
A calumnious convene in illusions that dered and demean
The fallen Angels level in their banishing bedaubed bedevil
In ruins ravaging, they revel a tenacious tenet of their temple
For their mendacious meddle we are the reifier of our vessel
We wilfully wrestle and retire in our denned deceived nestle
We are the many among the few evitative as we quietly ensue
For we must rise and renew all sexes seduced within their skew
Time to be trusted and true him or her who sees the veils thru
Constructs that construe dimensional drifts solos in the goo.
A Palindrome is a word or phrase which reads the same backwards as forwards, such as madam
deified – past tense of "to deify", meaning to consider as a god
succus – any of various liquids excreted by animals or plants
tallat--A loft.
dered – past tense of "to dere", an archaic word meaning to harm
level – various common meanings
tenet – a belief or principle
reifier – someone who reifies (considers an abstract concept to be real)
denned – past tense of to den, meaning to live in a den
evitative – a grammatical case indicating fear or aversion.
sexes – plural of sex
sees – third-person present tense of ‘to see’
solos – plural of solo
May.08.2018
Palindromes
Sponsored by: Joseph May
The spring wrestled the grain of sand
And scattered it free floating in the
Whirlwind on natures’ crystal spring
A tiny bird swept in to sip a drink
A dazzled by the floating grain
Tasted it and swallowed it and now
Airborne the grain of sand traveled
To a field of blueberries and flowers
And the bird now hungry ate of the
Berries and some of the insects
And excreted the grain of sand
And the skies opened and the rains
Came and the tiny grain of sand
Became lodged against a great rock
The sun came out and dried the
Tiny grain of sand and it adhered
To the big rock and now it was no longer
A tiny grain of sand but a big rock
And if felt fulfilled and powerful
And thankful and complete.
A man sitting on a toilet seat giving strength to his belly,
though resting his chin on his hand imitating the thinker
who is sitting in front of the gate of hell with deep thoughts,
naked on the bottom-half because he couldn't get completely naked
like the thinker, excretes waste from his body.
Although the waste excreted from his body can be flushed out
it may alleviate him for a while, the belly still is a bit uneasy
from the accumulated evil thoughts he kept in his body for years,
won't be able to flush out.
That's why the toilet seat starts to crack,
and because overly abusing the lower body
the pain creeps up from the bottom of the pit,
and that would be the entrance to the little hell.
If you see it from another angle, you can say that
the water from the toilet is the water of Lethe, which
will merge into Elysium, and therefore it may be Utopia;
then why squat down on the toilet seat troubled.
It's rather interesting to watch life,
since he is unable to filter the root of the larger hell
that is lurking somewhere in his body, though,
he fell into own dodge, condemning the lower belly,
unable to leave the toilet.
You are a weary wanderer going after a soul that drifted away;
you are a befogged soul facing hell but turning away from it,
and anchored the weight of your mind to the hell that is
on the other side of the world, sniffing a nauseous smell of sulfur
bubbling up from the bottom of the deep sea.
You are a wounded charger dashing aimlessly through the midst
of the smoke of battle and the rain of bullets, therefore, though
you have a mane you are unable to rise or call the wind, yet carrying
a self-conceited pedant who favors the use of unfamiliar words and
invents odd phrases to show-off on your back.
Why don't you, instead of pacing in hell,
swallow a handful of powder to help loosen the bowels excrete
the layer after layers of evil thoughts and the heaps of wastes
accumulated in the body for decades.
Abundant Autumn
Cooling air with colouring redder skies
Fooling landscapes upon marram lies
Fuelling frosted with dewed sunrise
Ruling leaves falling from revver highs
Deciduous trees succus leaving nectars
Mellifluous winds creating rotor sectors
Ambiguous pigments in sexes of hectares
Conspicuous colours within noon reflectors
Brown yellow pop orange magenta & blue
Countdown waiting Hallows Eve to Boo
Around hanging monsters of kook stew
Gown dressing ghouls amidst tenet view
Pies of pumpkins with evil olive inside
Skies Autumn puff up stretching wide
Prize setting sun top spot forever eyed
Rise blue heavens for we few of pride.
...much to my surprise, this Autumn Palindrome poem can be read backwards lol
...extremely difficult to compose, because of the restricting Palindromes
1.marram – a type of grass
2.dewed – past tense of "to dew", meaning to cover with dew
3.revver – someone or something that revs (an engine)
4.succus – any of various liquids excreted by animals or plants
5.rotor – something that rotates
6.kook – a crazy person
7.tenet – a belief or principle
A Palindrome is a word or phrase which reads the same backwards as forwards.
Sept.26.2018
Palindromes II Poetry
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Placed 1'st [2'nd of 8]
Aching with such soreness, the thought
of touching glass longing to shatter in pieces
but uncertain as to how much force.
Strength of varying degrees to apply
and yet fearful of shattered glass,
brittle grains of sand and levels
of the unknown.
Grey dark clouds heavy laden with drops.
Looking to burst but just waters in motion,
waiting, titillating in jest almost laughing down.
Provoking a longing to reach up, to burst that bubble
to feel the coolness and freshness of relief.
Yet so far above, cannot reach
miles of the unknown.
A grain of sand between bones
grinding when dryness has set in.
So very painful like gallstones
excreted thru the wrong passage
no relief even death unquestioned,
a vital option to touch the unknown.
Making secreted dreams
that beat the sound of excreted water
flowing with each enriched elimination
the kidneys are in movement
the physical process is in timing
moving the waste
and expelling
the urination from the necked Urethra
aka:lyricvixen ha-ha!
US AND THE STATE OF THE WORLD
With our present world encapsulated
In a shell of abject tragedy, it’s becoming
Painfully difficult to pen pleasurable words
Of the beautiful glow of the graces of nature
As that of humankind blooms dark graveness:-
Today, declining humor, splendor, and praising,
Are at their lowest ebb on the shores of time as
Pandora’s Box continues to overflow pandemonium
Leaving us floating in waters of war meandering with
Spewed murdered blood of innocent human life…flowing.
Once again, a devilish power-mongering oppressor
Audaciously justifies mass murdering of women, men,
And their innocent children; mendaciously taking pride
In physical and mental collateral damages excreted by war
In the droppings of cesspool bombings from the butt of hell:-
Yet, despite the present-day earthly living hell
We now find ourselves blistering in, let us not melt
Into apathetic despair and hopelessness; but faithfully
Believe the truth-laden resounding echoing of these words:
“…Whatsoever man soweth, so shall he reap.”
Indeed, let us forever be mindful that in our sojourn here,
“Every event…[challenge]…is a…[revealing lesson]…from God.”
And that each of these events comes with an allegorical message
Which when perceived and understood, we’re again blessed
And become enlightened with divine wisdom and guidance.
May the divine wisdom and guidance reveal unto us,
The foot-printed pathway for us with no more cheeks
To turn but yet, seek not to become Satan’s little devils;
For the nature and keloid scares of our oppression, reveals
Today, the Devil and his own, indeed “…know what they do.”
Mom told me once that
Her cat's eye necklace
Was a favorite.
There was something about it
That filled it with glamour.
Years later I learned it appealed
To her because it was chatoyant.
A few decades ago,
Every ingenue was taught
That pearls were the ultimate.
Pearls are formed by
Layer upon layer of
Soft nacre.
Nacre is excreted
To protect the mollusk
From an irritant.
The process is truely
Ineffable.
Minors of tanzanite
Dance with glee
When they discover
A large one.
To watch them is to
See a sight,
They are clearly
Lissome.
Emerging from the mine
See another glorious sight,
Mount Kilimanjaro.
If minors for tanzanite dance,
Then those that search for
Chrome Diopside
Let out a mellifluous sound.
Because of the intense
Cold and snow in Sibera,
The mine can only be reached
For a few months out of
Each year.
To choose one of these gems
And wear it well
Might be considered demure.
To wear them all would
Certainly be cynosure.
But we haven't yet talked
About the pinnacle.
The diamond
is formed when
Coal is exposed
To extreme pressure.
But that's ok,
It's the pressure
That makes it
Sempiternal.
Does anyone know the
Lore of stones?
Are any considered
To be panacea?
Written for Silent Ones vocabulary challenge.
fire engine scarlet red
is the color of the fire fighting Amaranth dead
who hide there sinful Liability
as they wave at me
from beyond my walking concrete grave
to let me know, that my time is
finely being bleed to the color of
broken swollen face Cordovan red
with a nod, the oldest
of the human fire fighting apparatuses
give me a sinful smile, while he drives The jungle Junction
to let me know all the wale (a plank around the outside of a ship)
heaven can watch me as they push me to jump
and that not, a soul will catch me, when i fall
I am theirs to control
mine, mind is not my own
and not a person can i ask for help
for they are organized
all the way up, to the political
rusted system, of no investigation
of your just Rosewood dead...
and your malted color lips wear
the evoked yellow color
and smell excreted Urine
reddish brown puppet...
---------------------------------------
(did not fix-keep as is, 5-5-2017)
Excreted from the void and lost,
At last his consciousness clocked in,
While at a window licked with frost,
Which coyly seemed to beckon him.
The wagging of the front door bell’s
Accusatory silver tongue
Could not reverse the potent spell
Of splendors he’d been dropped among.
The faint pastels of rainbows and
the flattened hues of flowers
were no rivals to this fairyland’s
kaleidoscopic powers.
Red ropes of licorice dangled down,
impending like stalactites.
Swirled lollys looked like grinning clowns.
The bins poured out prismatic lights.
Clenching quarters in his mittens,
He walked between his private giants,
Impressed they knew a world so hidden,
Affirming thus his shrewd alliance.
Filling his hands to overflowing,
he grandly at the front unfurled
his swag. The bell salutes his going,
a king into a smiling world.
Eruptions echo endlessly.
Spewing forth vile thunder.
Electricity excreted from the bowels of the world.
Pandemonium prevails in the distant lands.
Seismic semblances silently shatter safety.
Doom, Death, Destruction.
The electric volcanoes herald the end of Lotus.
*Not written by me*
*Written by a poet known as "The Black Moon Beckons Destruction" look out for more of his
poems in the "Destruction of Lotus" series.
Concubine thine;
tasteful of mediocrity
Like crushed acidic vine
a misplaced favour
Pseudo credit bliss
sold without honour
Like soured wine.
Your pride
Was without fine
no token paid
You re stolen water
exchange on you was never bargained made
I scent you stolen waters
You sure stinks
like gutters
courtesy
ideas you mates
she but a crushed juicy
You came with a bag of a stranger
I saw you like a crushed fermented citrus,
he sipped of you, you ate up union
in the home of another you fermented
Later you excreted mild commotion
As you tasted
like honey made from crushed sugar perfected deception
Now Samson in chains of you love
With cold hands like vipers juice
You held him tight
Gave him bat's eyes
You crushed his eyes
like red mixed wine in an artist drawings
Crushed into a frame with calmness
to bring aches to his loins
You gaze fully with cost
tearing apart
foundations of his lust
Though seem more attractive
than the home mate
eyes so seductive
tops like mountains
lollipop lips
tongue like fountains
he sees her
through blindness
of her stair
soothing and calm
but her end
is charm slam
Now Achilles is crushed
You deep blue sea.
Like little boat he floated on you
You turned an iceberg
And without control crushed him apart
Made him a derailed train
ignited coals to kill
Like a man's beard
He burning
like bread.
O concubine
Of thine
End
Is a dark tunnel.
And the men
You be crushed
21/4/2020
Place the void before me and I will cower
Fill it and I will pulse with awe
Neither pushes me down the path
The winding way, that greenish-yellow place
I once described in my innocence.
I'm mistaken, languishing
Anticipating some outside force,
Propellant, dependent on
Otherness to accomplish bliss
Folly filling my chance.
I wondered, then, if I would live
Laughing at the speed of one
Planetary body, cynical as Iago.
When I found time could hold me
Luck equals opportunity plus more: effort
Place before me a sheet of paper
I will cover it with echoes
Neither real nor imaginary
Ghosts that haunt my happy place
A stain excreted, evincing existence.
Crunch munch crunch,
chewing fast,
swallowing pride.
Well digested.
Through my pores
humbleness excreted.
Cotton, blood and nerves
Summed up, that's about the extent
No eternal flames flicker six feet above
clouds still shiftless
those beams that carry angles didn’t even shine down
No purpose or place
just a common face
See
there I go trying to impress with clever subtlety
a choice of uncanny words you may bring up on cold nights alone
I’ll be the ghost in the game
spelling out obscenities on a ouji board
The poltergeist has spoken
it excreted nonsense with a pen filled to the top with invisible ink
cheap bastard can’t even afford to write in blood
Zero accolades at this juncture
No love for the dead guy anymore
just rubber bracelets, salt and water
No love for the dead guy at all
a makeshift cross placed lopsided against a median
No love for the dead guy
he made damn sure that it turned out this way
Remember to forget me
it’s the only certainty of my memory at all
it’s all I have when the dirt gets shoveled over this dead guy
the only way to comfort my fall