Best Flagellation Poems
Mardi Gras "The Medieval Story"
On a hot, heavy night in Orleans,
Joan and Jane were seen rubbing chest on chest
An inviting, intimate moment, to undress
Two pretty trimmed tops, eating like dames
They touched in ways, that drove those who make war insane
The secret spilled before the sun sprawled across the floor
Medieval England, banging on iron set doors,
All around men and women, wanting to witness the whiplash
Beads and beads of love, thrown at their feet
Joan' and Jane', having fun in front of, yesterdays courtyard
Sweet acts of flagellation were performed to stimulate the crowd
Screaming, and receiving, intense, brutal lacerations
In the eyes of endless nudity, everything wet in between
Left to right, a secluded society, dance in masquerade
Two men rise and ravage Jane, from hip to hip
Join-in, was a Jouster, and Lord Johnsburg,
They came in a little closer to claim, Joan
Closing, and inflicting as much damage as possible
Crestfallen forces of the unknown, -the audience grows
Remain firm and indulge this wet period of the Middle Ages,
The first crusade held stones in each hand,
Applauding to neck the beauty of friends
A noose hanging high held no head on this day
Yelling to feel the pain perils of anguish,
This was in reality the vassal of Jane
The King, ask to see them on their knees
Before he seeded, sending the Spanish tickler,
Fetching for the finest skin
At her end, Joan, watched Jane, spread like never before
Perfumed skin, rising up in smoke, -Joan's final stroke
Left burning at the Stake, In a Medieval World, from hell
The Siege of Joan and Jane did not end well
A lonely Bard, now sits and sings a sadistic tale,
A tale, of dirty deeds, -a dancing bloody masquerade
Joan and Jane, compensating for the Mardi Gras Parade
By: SKAT
Categories:
flagellation, adventure, celebration, dark, death,
Form:
Dramatic Verse
Damn me ...
Damn me straight to hell ...
All this time ... all these many miles ...
All the masks and tears and self-flagellation ...
All the changes and promises and lonely nights and dreams ...
All the YEARS that I haven't so much as heard your voice or seen your eyes ...
All the others that have come and gone and come again, admonishing ...
All the poems full of my essence and bitterness and confessions ...
All the songs written and sung and cursed to dirty silence ...
All the rattled screams to the gaping wound of heaven ...
All the cursed, forsaken ghosts drowned in my blood ...
All the phantoms sacrificed to hell for your sake ...
And I am still that silly heartsick boy ...
I. Am. Still. Your. Damned.
FOOL.
Categories:
flagellation, heartbreak, lost love, love
Form:
Free verse
So it was that tragedy, which lead me finally,
Have another invasion, upon my lands-never,
To guard my boundaries, and bolster my army,
Let the pain in my heart, with cold fury- wither
The petty palisades of wood, are now of stone,
Upon ramparts are erected, many cannons strong,
Mighty swords sharpened, arrow-heads honed,
Wishing anger to sustain me, keep my vigil long
Much has been done, and more has been sought,
I promised to be mighty, not conquered futilely,
Often I be dismal, when I stare down my moat,
Need I be strong always, but eternally lonely?
Thence once these lonesome times, I look at you,
Saw a princess lovely, aloof and shy,
Could such beauty hold, a heart pure and true?
“No” I told myself, knowing full well I lie
Every moment then, are filled with longing,
For I knew you were special, a fragile innocence,
Could my night watch finally, see it’s morning?
But I won’t give up easy, what I built so far hence
To harsh self-flagellation, this denial has turned,
Fiercer heart-rending than, being left for a fool,
More formidable even, than all the days I mourned,
For rejection of affection, is now my first rule
Behind my quiet hard eyes, I ask you fervently,
Underneath my grim and dark façade, lies a question,
Hoping against hope, you will hear this mute plea,
Allow me once again, to breath Love’s desperation
Hear this entreaty, asked in silent despondency,
Words are not needed, Just feel my agony……
Could you be the Trojan horse,
To capture surreptitiously my heart?
Free me from this maddening curse,
Shatter this misery to the tiniest parts
Categories:
flagellation, inspirational, introspection, lost love,
Form:
In mania, the body unbinds itself.
The skeleton’s dense marrow becomes hollow,
an avian adjustment. It is accelerated evolution.
Fluttering and floating in a slew of thoughts
like nervous wind chime chatter.
My brother blew in through the rattling gate
accompanied by October’s cruelest gale.
Eyes unwillingly wide, levered by a crowbar
his hazel doorways ripped from their hinges.
He ran fervently through the streets of West Chester
with lungs coated with cannabis and amphetamines
until there was blood beneath his toenails, dripping out
just like Jesus’ wine weeping out from his searing limbs.
As he entered into the home of our distant childhood,
his back burned from the warm wrath of penitent leather
the self-flagellation, the begging for the flames of Purgatory
To appease the eyes of a looming Lord
his fate-sealing gaze hidden in twilight’s comforting veil
He says he holds a guilt beyond human comprehension,
that he is an evil person. I tell him we are just flawed people.
After a decade of intentful detachment, my brother cracks open
his ribcage as it blooms like a flower from his sternum.
He says there is a sickness in his soul, and that I will
never truly know him.
My mother and father have had heads made of granite
since he has come home. There are heavy eyes shadowed with
bags made of storm clouds. They have prayed with their
clergy. They have contacted multiple attorneys.
My sibling is a storm that has wrought ruin, but
he can heal. His violent storm might sow a beautiful season
The warmth of his first real smile will bring upon renaissance,
and as the tears and snot seep into the soil of my shoulder
our cheeks may grow a vibrant emerald moss.
Categories:
flagellation, brother, drug, forgiveness, hope,
Form:
Free verse
Goalkeeper
When there is a football match on the TV I switch it
On the last ten minutes of the match my boredom threshold
Is low and to sit there watching the game for ninety minutes, really!
I used to play football as a boy, goalkeeper of all things then
I grew up and chased girls instead which often was painful
Like accidently falling in love, that happened frequently.
Falling in love is painful walking into walls and being nice
To children related to the object of my adoration
Then the pain of being rejected long walks and dark thoughts
Under a night sky, bittersweet flagellation why did she leave me.
This too ended now I`m a goalkeeper again defend the goal and try
To save the ball death is kicking my way
Categories:
flagellation, arabic, february, first love,
Form:
Sonnet
The lost little Angel was fell into the urban slums
Walking aimlessly with nothing but her broken wings
Blossom into granules of dusts, intangible as a vagabond
Her heaven plucked as the moonlight stolen, the intangible vagabond
Her sanctity made her glowed illuminate those souls who ingested by the slums
However flagellation in disguise filled the story of her wonderful flawed wings
Trace stitches by stitches of her wings
Her world plays deception in those eyes who marked her as a vagabond
In fact she just an imperfect little Angel and they are the slums
Rose from the slums, the wings tore the shield of a vagabond
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Honorable mention
Introducing Tritina (a new poetry form for you!)
Sponsor Andrea Dietrich
Categories:
flagellation, imagination, inspirational, angel, angel,
Form:
Tritina
I am a misprint,
Ink blot on love,
I remain a maybe
Longing for fact,
No speck of lint,
A hand in glove.
Thunder; a baby
Will only react
When you etch
Parallel clouds,
Whistling on cue
To a dead town.
Dream a sketch
Of silent crowds
Becoming you,
This boiling crown
Chews thought
Into flagellation.
Holes in the walls
To spy through,
Seeking a sort
Of bricked-up sun.
A heaven of halls,
All leaving you.
Categories:
flagellation, addiction, adventure, fear, freedom,
Form:
Verse
Our secrets have life
Enormous flagellation
Waiting to be told
"What is it?", I ask
What is this dark atmosphere?"
"You are so quiet."
He will not tell me
Do I really want to know?
It may make things worse
Risk is always there
The friendship is suffering
The still, cold, silence
We dance around it
He goes back to his crossword
Productivity
Do we need secrets?
Preventing insanity
Keeping ourselves whole
Marriage is a gift
Yet, its burdens weigh on us
Too many questions
I will stay quiet
Until I find an answer
He does not know it
Categories:
flagellation, husband
Form:
Haiku
Expunged upon each breath,
freezing accusations
sealed your lips,
and like a snare, retribution
closed its choking grip.
I had seen the flush of blush
upon each cheek,
when casual touch
lingered just a little too much,
for what is flirtation
but prelude to conquest,
with me a discarded after-thought.
Excuses like autumn leaves,
twisted in my maelstrom,
they were nothing
but a future medium
for growing better lies,
and I gather shining images,
spliced together with fantasy,
projecting this movie
onto the blankness of my fears.
Coincidence brings coffee to a table,
over-sweetened with honey words
and schoolgirl-like smiles,
this innocent rendezvous
that taints my blue sky,
is nothing but a grey cloud
of twisted imagination,
and self-flagellation.
Categories:
flagellation, autumn,
Form:
Free verse
beheaded blame is constant
love is a crushed, ornamentated adjective to you
yet and still i am under you submissive to your rhythmic therapy
there was a time when i was a thorn searching for a bush
nowadays i am an earthworm looking to be part of a footprint in a neglected garden
yet and still i drink the flavored saliva of your passionate persona
i am proud to be a thief stealing snowflakes of happiness from honest presentations of bliss
i become a dense dunce cutting my finger at the point of the cap that causes migraines
yet and still i lick up the majestic masterpiece disguised as a brilliant secret in continuous bloom
fruitless flagellation performs as parallelism
forever is an interrogative interest descending to you
yet and still i manage to lie to myself and call myself stable, strong and able
Categories:
flagellation, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
4 ablution 4 acclimatization 4 adulation
4 benediction 4 biotransformation 4 blastulation
4 concatenation 4 conception 4 configuration
4 declaration 4 dictation 4 differentiation
4 ejaculation 4 emancipation 4 ********
4 fascination 4 flagellation 4 flocculation
4 gastrulation 4 glamorization 4 glorification
4 habituation 4 harmonization 4 homogenization
4 implantation 4 impregnation 4 incubation
4 jubilation 4 junction 4 juxtaposition 4 kation
4 keratinization 4 k-ration
4 labialization 4 libation 4 liquidation
4 manifestation 4 menstruation 4 micro-encapsulation
4 negotiation 4 notification 4 notion
4 ovation 4 oviposition 4 ovulation
4 parturition 4 penetration 4 perpetuation
4 quadruplication 4 qualification 4 question
4 reaction 4 repopulation4 reproduction
4 sanctification 4 schematization 4 scintillation
4 thermojunction 4 titillation
4 underestimation 4 unification 4 union
4 validation 4 valuation 4 vasocongestion
4 weatherization 4 workstation
4 zombification 4 zonation
Categories:
flagellation, angel, baby, birth, child,
Form:
Alliteration
I used to write like
Jack Kerouac.
Words
crumbling down
paper.
Stark thoughts
marked
by dots
and dashes.
Flashes of schoolyard brilliance
The hill I would
climb over
to be
someone different.
I never saw life
through a dot.
LSD.
My father
was on mushrooms,
when he and my mother
created me.
Psychedelic sperm
meets
bitter weed
infested ovum.
BANGED
into existence.
Transient spirit
sloughing off
afterbirth long
after I hit
the cold.
I have chased
paper
ever since.
Dipping my bones
in ink.
To paint a
masterpiece
of you.
Broken, homeless, loveless,
privileged, safe, warm,
sheltered, shattered
reconstructed.
All in a backdrop
of perfection.
An abundant Earth
housing an
ungrateful patient.
Most of us,
doctored
unconscious
sedated.
Waiting for
something
to wake us
up.
My own words
often
broken and
falling off.
Leaving only
snapshots.
I get ties and
sketches
along the
road.
I would bargain
my dreams
for pious acceptance
and my revelations
for wicked
indulgent
self
flagellation.
I have been
bound to my
vision
of exclusion
behind an
iron fence of
history.
Trapped
in pages.
Tapped and
wasted.
I used to write
as if I didn't
I would die.
On my knees
shattered
under
that perfect
silent sky.
Head bowed
shoulders cowed
frail and pasty.
Screaming
raging
breaking pages
with my pen.
Attempting to bring
black and white
to color.
Now I write,
because
I die.
A thousand times
with you.
Its glorious!
Over your
unfinished portraits.
Your shortcuts
your detours
your ache
your lust,
and your mindless
wandering.
Beautiful
and championed.
I pray to make
my prose like
a Sistine Chapel
after all,
you deserve
it!
Only to fall
very far from
grace.
At the
Inadequacy
I have
at coloring
your face.
I used to write
like Jack Kerouac,
jotting a shot
of you
in between
heaven.
But I figured out
that I would
rather capture
my own
splinter.
And be satisfied with
a sliver of you,
than die like him
at forty-seven.
Categories:
flagellation, celebrity, courage, dedication, devotion,
Form:
Free verse
A Lesson in History: How to Subdue a People
Be brazen in thievery and sweet-tongued deceit
To, of their lands and people, take receipt.
Merchandise their inhumane objectification,
And keep them checked with generous flagellation.
With threats of nooses around their necks, or mutilation,
Deny them education for continued Blaxploitation,
To engrave ignorance and inferiority in their genes,
And achieve their eternal subjugation by any means.
Pretend yours are the magic words to open doors,
Seize their diverse tongues and give them yours,
Forbid songs of their motherland in your fields of cotton,
So their origins, after few generations might be forgotten.
Confiscate their identities and give them your name
And refuse them every chance at some historical fame.
Rewrite as idiots and cowards their dead heroes and braves
To kill their ancestors again, even in their graves
But beware, for they’ll pull your cobwebs off their eyes
And in time, in bits and droves, see, hear, and begin to rise.
Their voices will grow deafening and their impacts more felt;
None can eternally hold a people with a whip and its welt!
Categories:
flagellation, black african american, hate,
Form:
Quatrain
When night falls and stumbles into slumber
reshuffles memories and tumbles crumbles
minds and mines of coal dust into icing sugar
it transposes trifle tribulations and awakens
Where evening stars and creatures of the dark
mix and mingle myriads of constellations shine
lunar aspirations convert converse in quiet sleep
they silently expose fake impositions of delusion
Why and how and for what reason a cruel world
in guise of rationalised temptation in quite some cheek
and bum and bottom line prescription untangles in
the solace soul and solar comfort of caress eludes
We may be well advised to choose between and
well beyond advancing torturous flagellation of
fool’s false impression misguided paradox reality and
walking sleep catching dream latching over and above
When evening mist and dusk beholds no further
prison walls of misconception’s assault on sanity
imprints no further coffin nails on human nature
the radiant twilight unfolds to tell the story yet again
08th February 2017
Categories:
flagellation, freedom,
Form:
Free verse
A sudden plunge into grey
people, pets, and homes fall prey
hurried storm clouds gather
howling wind thrashing through trees
In submission lay fallen leaves
branches finally capitulate
bending to gale force winds
merciless Flagellation
rain pelts down hard
thunder roars with authority
lightning flashes menacing anger
striking blue, purple, orange bolts
tossed around with rage
boats float on water like dolls
broken and bent electric poles
homes are flooded
people displaced
Donald Trump shows his face
deployment of people to help
dealing with this devastating hell
she does not relent
Mother Nature is hell bent.
In haste as I watch the news.
Categories:
flagellation, natural disasters, nature,
Form:
Rhyme