Best Excruciatingly Poems
Written: November 24, 2024 for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
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In a calyx of ambivalent dreams,
where shadows swirl as silken strands,
I slip through the surface,
a sailboat in a tide of thoughts,
where colors speak in whispers,
and sounds weave a tapestry
of guffaw and sighs.
I am an astronaut,
zipping into a cosmos of canorous clangor
past comets with names such as chimera
and planets blooming with a corpulent deluge
simmering under layers of desultory dust,
each a sun waiting
to ignite an encomium spark.
Footfalls on the ledge of splendor,
swirling in circles,
a kaleidoscope of moments —
jumping from the quicksilver
of a fleeting glance,
to the deep sinkhole of silence,
where time slows to the pulse of heart.
Here, on this canvas of perception,
the boundary of self dissolves,
melting into the esoteric ocean
and excruciatingly eviscerated thoughts
are squid jauntily joined by caring currents,
amber-colored fires dancing on the horizon,
unraveling secrets hidden in their stings.
I chase shadows,
those swift-painting phantoms,
a ghostly gap in gnarled grooves of life,
seeking sincerity in a swirl of sights —
the stillness of awareness,
longing wrapped in vibrant coils,
darkness stitched with fragile threads of light.
In stillness, I stroll.
feeling every pulse evolve into a quilt of colors.
tracing trails tracked by supple notions.
as the clock spins dizzy tales —
my pen touches the sky,
gathering glimpses in gradients of glides.
a jaunt laced with lingering layers.
charting caverns of concealed aspirations.
where wisdom blooms in wild gardens,
Inviting all intrepid inclined to intrude
the twinkling, tantalizing tones
of existence, endlessly entwining
every exhale an echoing essence.
of something that yearns.
to be liberated and let loose.
‘Turn swords into ploughshares and nightmares to dreams’
I have not one plough and no shares in the market
Insomnia has taken over my nights the rest is illusion
Ambitions are exhausted and hope has no yearning
Freedom dangles on the rope of puppet-less strings
Vacuum reflects an echo of silent ear bursting rasping
Dissonance oozes from cacophony’s apathetic rattle
The heavy clanger of other’s fraudulent forge melts disowned blood
Into ice in my veins as a purulent mind oozes vile battles' cries
Muted by trench feet scraping bottomless mind-fields and apathy
‘Pull yourself out of catatonia’s core-less pits’
But there is no kernel of truth and fruits of desire have rotted
To the acrid stench of a Self carefully lost on broken branches
Snapped composure looms over a well-trodden treacherous path
Carved into an involuntary hermit’s cave by a cliff edged road side
It is grave in the cavern in which vacant vagrants jumble their bones
Disconnect their last possession and wilfully trade skulls and bones
‘This too shall pass and so many others have been stuck in the rot’
And yet suffocation in some muddy sludge is sinking
Slowly and excruciatingly tempting to join forces of evil
A dark rusty anchor floats high on the unreachable ceiling
Time I have endless measures of but the world is upside down
I am out of the picture that has faded memories for the future
Dislodged and dismembered I am a powerful union of nothing
‘Change your perspective and find solace where it is hidden’
So he who is I from the distance finally lets go of unwarranted grip
Descends as far from the surface as possible beyond expectations
And finds footing of the shackles where the ploughshare should be
The spikes pierce my soles and my soul ostensibly drowned in sorrow
At least there is pain and some place in between scars to feel emotions
That tentatively nurture rescue apparently beyond impossible salvation
‘Your advice seemed hollow but there is some loving space left inside my shell’
29th November 2019
Stung with the absence of his father, he excruciatingly rumbled deep inside of his mother’s womb.
He stormed out already filled with disappointing void.
The mother’s joy was of uncertainty.
Memories of her husband, flashed back right in her face once again.
She could feel the exhaustion of a lifetime encircled around her and the weight and magnanimity of raising the beautiful baby on her own.
Two years creeped by and the bond between them was legendary.
The love was so constant and consistent, like the sun will rise.
Their friendship thrived through the encroached stormy desert.
Her wings unfolded like an angel, extraordinarily patient as a lion hunting.
The fondness between them was as phenomenal as THE SERPENT GOD at chichen Itza, that he was unceremoniously detached from her.
A devastation of a 4-5 year old separation to a foreign land, felt like an erupted-never-ending-volcanic-nightmare.
The purpose of that crushing disconnection, was feeble.
he was starved off of food, shelter and raiment.
Apportioned milk from animals became the only privilege given.
The purest and cleanest form of consumed water, was of a residual of donkeys streamed through the shin of an old dirty black slave man.
An occasional feasting on birds, caught through invented-trapping.
With innocence, he’ll apathetically rip the head, feathers of the little creatures with bare hands, bury them in the sand of the mountain top desert, hours later, it’s BEANO.
He was deprived of even just a glimpse of his family for all those years, he wimped in loneliness.
And on a dark frightful night, came the growl of the famous fox, but he survived.
Life is fickle and comes without no warning and can’t be anticipated.
Survival can not be measured by *echoes* of preventions, it is destined and destiny is not always a gift.
The tale unfolds in hardship, a narrative woven through the threads of resilience and survival. The bond between mother and child, tested by separation, echoes the unpredictable journey of life—a journey marked by both strength and vulnerability.
They have zero charisma
Republicans give off no sparks
Richard Nixon, so woeful wooden
He was carved from Noah’s Ark
Ike and Mamie, a pair so excruciatingly dull
They spelled ‘live action’ – L U L L
And next to JFK’s wife, Jacqeline
Mamie was a dime-store mannequin
Fess up, GOP, you’re a party of Mitch McConnells
Liven up, like that Democrat clown ~ Ronald McDonald
Between soft brush of breeze and shower spray of sunshine
Between bubbly blooms of bulbs to nectarine nibbles blast
Between chanting chirps of birds to orchestrated strums and thumps
Between the struggle of knowing less and knowing more
Between tricky tempestuous trial train to bottle breaking battle birth
Between these to selfless sacrifice, He painted all free out of His love
King of all kings yet born humble lain in a manger
King of all kings yet dressed in the simplest clothe
King of all kings yet regardless of who, He walk through
King of all kings yet questioned, mocked and scourged
King of all kings yet excruciatingly trampled down
King of all kings, darling of Heavens,they slain as a ransom to mankind's sin
Holy made known by His conception from a Virgin
Holy made known through His baptism of blood and fire
Holy made known with His miracles: water into wine;healing paralytic; raising the dead
Holy made known by His Living Words written in truth and spirit
Holy made known through the works of His disciples
Holy, Your Amazing grace, a warm womb of bearing embrace
Today and always, a call to Your name a rainbow blessing shout
Today and always, You are our silent invisible brother and friend
Today and always, Your example our primal everlasting guide to life
Today and always, You are our way, the truth and our glowing light
Today and always, You are our most faithful and gentle rescuer
Today and always, where will I be without you in my life?
(c) Olive Eloisa
11:22pm
September 29. 2014
***Inspired by:
Revelation 17:14
"These will wage war against the Lamb, and the Lamb will overcome them, because He is Lord of lords and King of kings, and those who are with Him are the called and chosen and faithful."
Sponsor Verlena S. Walker
Contest Name HOLY IS THE LAMB...
first. to God is the highest glory and honor.
Written: January 10, 2025
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Wenches of Whimsy and Woe
In the world of the fiddled gruntingly,
where micturitions dance,
and arty yawning plurdled gabbleblotchits,
lurgid bees buzz with mordacious glee.
Eardges justle and grumble,
festering infectious organ squealers,
gnawing at the edges excruciatingly,
Intergalactic highways scream,
echoing in their lavish friars.
Gandersalps gleam in the grim groggy gloom
graceful gliding gallant swarupincrafts majestically soar
whoop, wail, wassail wondrous rowan wood
cormulent chitchat flickers like flames
Elevate the mundane,
let foolishness dissolve into the ether,
In the charm of nostalgia, we find the replevy abyss,
Paraprosdokian twists lift us higher.
Triskaidekaphobia slumbers wrapped in jest.
Schadenfreude influences us as
katabatic whispers from the abyss fade away
callipygian figures emerge,
bringing moments of unexpected joy.
Vessels overflowing with dreams,
countehsee the orbs and clusters
while Guinevere gazes, sly and wise,
clipshank the past, whitebootz to come
Here as we meander in whimsical unfolding
There is a gentleman that I am acquainted with.
He grins, but it is not seen in his eyes
He chuckles, but it is only a lovely lie
He speaks but conceals something inside
He sings, but his quiet screams are audible
He draws but has no one to console him
He writes, yet it never alleviates his life's sorrow
He adores, yet his thighs are scarred.
He survives, but all he wants is death
He merely absorbs the ache, which is excruciatingly bitter
And I take a step back from the mirror
3TH PLACE CONTEST WINNER
Written: April 25, 2022
Near Death Experience Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Night and day, a thrashing
like an invisible whiptail
surge van hail,
doth swell me bosom
excruciatingly, doggedly blackmail
capriciously be-numbingly,
aggravatingly assail
mine conscience in
what paltry pale
capacity of this gamboling male,
I can "pay forward,"
whatever means shale
be moost apropos avail
to offset bewail
ling (internal psyche doth ale
hankering) against utter
lifetime (mine) peppered
with emotional, physical
and social destitution
bereft, viz fail
ling to maximize inspiration
reverberating as vibrant detail
lacking even justa minimum
desire to live
(visa vis no way
discover ring, nope nar even
"FAKE" king minuscule appeasement
of my body, mind,
and spirit triage during)
hell...shove (shelve) aside
such gloriously noble benighted role,
amidst upending folktale
re: King Arthur and His Knights
of the Round Table
futilely searching for holy grail
where steadfast conviction
emboldens this heart and hale
spirited mindful,
sincere hard drive spurs
(neigh saying horse
sense of mine)
where ambition saddled
to air (dan sing) quailing,
yen propelling (yours truly),
with sincere humanitarian,
(i.e. blood driven)
philanthropic spiritual zeal,
I tried to unveil,
this reasonably rhyming thumbnail
sketch poetically versatile
within this spurious verse despite
any trials undermining travail
rather mine heart felt genuine
motive fueled by impetus
to contribute within e kale
logi, fizzy hollow gee, humanity,
with integrity, magnanimity,
and quality fervency,
while still adept, adroit,
agile, and alert,
(cuz America needs more lerts
to become great again)
ironically steel tougher than nails,
duh pleating ability dovetail
to bug (or wug) gee wholesale.
vile venomous vermin
intriguing intertwined insurgent
petulantly promenading patrol
excruciatingly evil exile
ruthlessly relentless reptile
Is there anything so excruciatingly exhausting
As to feel the need to look at everything
Through judgmental eyes
No background or context
Barely half the info
Yet so quick to jump to conclusions
Always quick to pass judgment
As if holding all the cards and criteria
Seeking perfection everywhere
How arrogant and pretentious
Like trying to wear God’s hat
I once said the worst thing
I could imagine was to see
Someone imprisoned for a crime
They did not commit
Am I so stupid to not realize
I am guilty everyday of doing
Exactly that in a million little ways
Over and over again
Of doing the worst crime I have imagined
That I am judging and sentencing
Without hearing all facts…
And even if I did hear all the facts
Who died and made me almighty judge?
And anyway…
What’s with this overwhelming urge
Needing to quickly evaluate and judge
Possibly born of some caveman instinct
To protect oneself from imminent dangers
If so, it’s way beyond that and outdated
Not only ineffective but destructive
Become much the enemy within
Blackening my heart with every cynical thought
Separating me from everything that surrounds
Isolating me empty of compassion or empathy
Whatever happened to a little bit of humility
And admitting that none of it concerns me
It is what it is good bad or indifferent
God just called
He wants his hat back
AP: 3rd place 2020
Clawing from the base of the abysmal tomb
Scraping knuckles bleed from bitter fight
Spent muscles strain against restraint
Lungs wheeze and struggle for sustaining breath
As the heart’s mass shrinks within its chest
Once outside, the form at last seems free
But freedom isn’t granted so easily
A life dangles in precarious balance
Over the ledge of sanity’s precipice
Nearly toppled by the weight of dread
All may be lost if one single shred of hope
Fails to gleam into this despondent place
For nearly to the end of faith they’ve come
This human in the ticking time bomb race
So excruciatingly the soul is bound
So surely and completely gripped, it is
By deathly ills which ensnared the waiting one
With vines of tangled, twisted lies
So many that the person became numb
And against the evils of this world became
Ever unprepared and did succumb
©Donna Golden
Saturated in sounds
Too intense to ignore
And of them you hear
It's raining cats and dogs
Right outside your window
Wondering if it'll ever let up
Aching echoes pound inside you
Yet it isn't enough, more is needed
The goal is to hear and understand more
Overcoming the mundane human limitations
Tough, but you'll try and manage the harsh burden
Heaving the unsure thoughts out of mind and ascending
Even the birds, the moon, the sun isn't as high as you feel
Still you are hoping to help those who reach out for a hand
That is your only way to know for sure it is really happening
And it isn't all in your head, I feel it too, it's excruciatingly sweet
Ready to burst forth and envelop you in it's beautiful horrific light
Suddenly, the sound comes to a complete stop and you're living again
Black Friday is hovering over the wet alleys of Paris
Scratching its nails against the brick walls, holding in grimes
With his every breath, dies a red tulip on the pregnant terrace
Lovers shiver in their empty rooms, chocking on the echoes of innocents’ shrieks
Terror screams and birds scatter into the suffocating air above
Their feathers still wet, dipped in the blood
Pebbles shake as Fear steps on them, having a grin on his face
Rain can’t even wash what has marked peoples’ grieving hearts
The best Wine is now spoiled where music is standing still in the air
The hands of agony are digging the grounds of despair
I pray for Paris and for the great light to shine
For courage and love to be resurrected at once
I pray that His light will shine and overcome the terror
He is the true conqueror and the world’s only savior
He will come riding on the clouds, shushing the terror, making it crawl
He will restore love and will lay down peace
People of Paris will smile and listen to His tender music!
Lovers will fill the alleys once excruciatingly dark
They whisper I love you, beholding the Eiffel right at dusk
Rahy
November 16, 2015
Coldly calculated
deliberately intended
and extended
terror-inducing violence,
physical and/or verbal,
is motivated by chronic anger and fear,
but also sometimes, on a larger scale,
by beliefs that vengeance can be,
or at least eventually become,
ecopolitically justified means
toward an egocentrically therapeutic outcome.
Corollary: Oppressive nihilism
could help me one day
feel and think and breathe
justified denialism OK.
Any parent who has been excruciatingly appraised by teenagers,
each of whom believes it is his or her,
or whatever in-between, duty
to update your more cooperative tolerance skills,
hopefully will have learned
that both belief in vengeful nastiness
and its nihilistic disvaluing win/lose
0-sum degenerative corollary
are errors in ecopolitically healthy
and correct win/win
co-impassioned judgment,
peace-making inside and outside,
not inside v outside.
Little Guatemalan child on the floor
In the heat, shaded by the shop door,
Alone and dirty
Clothed in filthy rags,
Holding a little brother
She’s wrapped him in torn bags
Begging for any money,
She is in desperate need,
Not eaten in days,
Little baby brother still bleeds,
In a unknown language,
She pulls on the tourists,
But they give to only one child,
To the child who seems the poorest,
So she continues sniffing the glue
Baby Bro is contaminated too
It eases the pain and hunger
It’s the thing she’s knows to do,
When later the heat resides
The orange Sun will set,
And the orphans gather together,
Collect old rubbish and tourist cigarettes,
And when the men drive by late night,
And offer them pathetic lose change,
For her innocence aged 9,
A most excruciatingly unfair exchange
She grows up knowing this life
Is the only life she’ll identify,
Unless someone will lend a physical hand
And wipe the tears from her eyes
And comfort and hold her so close,
Let her know there is love out there,
Get her life back together,
Will you go and show you care?
N.B. I visited Guatemala in 2004 with my church. We helped volunteer to build an
orphanage. This is based on the stories we heard...Words cannot explain the
situation there.