Best Indecency Poems


Premium Member The Poet and the Jester (On Embracing Duality)

It is the conversation
between the poet and the jester.
The poet- with solemn introspection;
the jester- with careless regard,
each captivating the other.

It is the ultimate irony
of this unlikely coupling,
entwining their words,
combining truth and mischief,
sabotaging established decorum.

Neither threatened nor contrite,
nor challenging the others' wisdom,
but with enthusiastic fornication
and eager indecency
they consecrate their mutual madness

Rain Days Figured In

the line straight, turning the globe
dark and then darker colors passing by
the vivid stream, covering the sun from her
indecency

the day a dank, gray stare
through the glass left over from the last
hurricane

maybe I should go outside and
listen awhile

But, I am worried.  I'm goddamn sick
the rain is costing me 
money

Cogs In the Wheel

You find in the slime of indecency
The rotted hollow of an empty skull - 
A mindless mind allows redundancy 
Repeated repetitions till it's full. 
 
Cogs in a wheel turning round on a run, 
As sparrows share their madrigals at dawn.
The tulips muse about the idol, Sun,
Iconoclastic papal paragon.
 
Once baptised in the bounty of my birth,
Religion's regal razor ripped and flayed;
When double mothers claimed one child of earth
The mighty sword of Solomon was raised.
 
A wisp of willow in the wind will bend
As will the will of wiser men who found
The sterner tree is broken in the end
To join the lowly loam below the ground.


Natural Disaster

Natural Disaster

You have the compassion of a blizzard and the patience of an avalanche
Your derision trickles like a monsoon.
You drown me in disdain.
Flooded by your expectations, my capacities sank.

You are my natural disaster.

You are a hurricane of indecency, a tornado of contempt.
You are a Typhoon raging over my failings.
My army of good intentions surrenders to your gales of dissatisfaction.
You blow me away as a gnat.

You are my natural disaster.

The earth quakes from your judgment. You are predictable like a fault line.
We are a mud slide pouring into a chasm.
Me first, you shove
Into our crevasse of discontent, we fall together.

You are my natural disaster.

You are lightening. I have no ground.
The warmth of our love you kindled
into solar fission and into scorched conflagration you drove.
Your future is hot. Mine unwritten.

You are my natural disaster.

     _ _ _

JD Zoller.  (C) 11-30-2016

The Four Horsemen of the Amockalypse

At the sound of the first horn, the joke becomes ill,
And there is just no amount of comedic skill,
That can hide its indecency, but try he will,
And despite its poor taste, he will use it still.

Upon the second horn, The Heckler appears,
And the joke is now met with insensitive jeers,
“Is that all you’ve got?!” he does scoff as he sneers,
And upon confrontation he sits there and leers.

The third horn is sounded and Silence arrives,
And of applause and of laughter he cruelly deprives,
Starving the joke of the food he derives,
From the merriment upon which every joke thrives.

The last horn is sounded and the final death stroke,
Is dealt upon our poor unfortunate joke,
He lets out a wheeze and gives a small choke
And at last did our poor whimsy finally croak.

‘Tis the end of the line for our jolly old friend,
And there is no amount of first aid that could mend,
The injuries to what the comedian penned,
For our tired joke has met its sweet end.

Introduction

Introduction 

Stripping my soul of indecency, I enter into  your abyss.
Secrets of tragedy I cannot explain, a tragedy that will forever exist. 

Raw, 
     a wound from my darkest of hearts.
Unapologetically closing every door, as if you had planned to reject the part.


My darkest day, happened in our darkest hour. 
Broken, I am broken.
But. 
I refuse to be speechless. Because bravery is outspoken. 

Heartache and bruising, this dance with the devil, I found amusing. Accusing my past, as if you choked me while chewing. 

Hate.
Impossible, at least it was. You might debate me, but you lack the very definition of love.

You have introduced me... 

To you.
Yet again.
To all of the above. 

December,15,2019


Emergencyresetbutton

I need to purge my blood of these shivers, smoke-filled bubbles burst in blood capillaries, an embolysym of you, an embolysym of truth. So much disease carried through an artificial vein.A wire mesh heart that surrounds the tissue, and cuts, and scrapes and tears the flesh thats pulsing there. My iron lung feed me unwell. A binge on sickness that I cannot take back. And with words settling back on the heels of my fingertips, Im ready to be ill. Emesis of b***s***, of treachery. Of indecency, of dishonesty, of facelessness, of cowardice. Will anyone ever read this and understand how a broken heart heals? The maliciousness of untrust and the misuse of of courtesy have eaten away at my regenerated liver. My borrowed kidney is rejected on the operating table and I am drained of all my poisoned blood. So give me a heart outside of my body, a big plasticine box with rubber tubing. And let my eyes see the you drain out of me and the blood of unknown angels be filtered in. I wanna watch every drop be filtered from my collapsing veins, I wanna deflate every organ inside and empty every nerve synapse of memory.I want a restart button and I want a renewable source of energy. I dont want your weak blood in me anymore. I dont needd your tiny bits of protein, your half-formed enzymes. I want  anything else. An artificial sense of safety within my reach. So split me down the middle, no anesthesia, the scalpel working inch by bleeding inch. and seperate me from you.
© Gina Young  Create an image from this poem.

That Moment When

THAT MOMENT WHEN: you  get a grip of reality
& the  segments of the figment of your imaginary,
 turns out to be nothing more than  your FANTASIZED  creativity 

THAT MOMENT WHEN:you come to the realization
 you're being simple...but you could care less about a moral or a principal

THAT MOMENT WHEN: you stare in his eyes &  visualize
 what could be,falsely...the indecency... 

THAT MOMENT WHEN: you accept your visual blindness
 to be your weakness... the hassel for the Mistress
 who is now the Ex 
The Example of why you should never TAmper and leave well enough alone when its all said and done He's sure to go Home

Premium Member Politicians

P  -    Perpetual

O   -      Outrageous

L      -                   Liars 

I         -          Implementing:
 
T           -                   Treachery 
     
I              -                     Insolvency 
  
C                 -                       Corruption
 
I                     -                           Indecency
  
A                        -                                      And

N                             -                                 Nebulous 

S                                 -                           Statesmanship!*
 








© Demetrios Trifiatis
       18 May 2016



* I am preparing a poem  "What Politics Should Be" and this is the introduction for to show what it shouldn't be!

Free Cee I Wish There More of You Who Deserve To Read This

PLEASE PASS THE SWEETBREAD

With sorrow tomorrow I will say fare thee well
As I be headed for the intestines of hell
A demon misdirected to be duly digested
While his fortitude and factor of fear is fully tested
With a vested interest in indecency and indiscretion
While involved in an iniquitous insurrection
A sinner sought by sordidness and the vengeance of tomorrow
No beggar but a being who prefers to rob rather than borrow

Just a junkie jousting with justice, judgment and condemnation

A soul aligned with the maligned yet suffering alienation
A spirit spited by speciousness and spurious allegations
And when asked if he feels like human waste he will nod in affirmation
For thus is this the me my mother never meant for me to be
And as for my father he was never very fatherly

And so it is I’ve come to this
A last resort for a lack of bliss
The final toll of a well-worn bell
As I am insidiously and insistently ingested by the intestines of hell
       © 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…...~free cee!~

We Divagate

Woke up to your possessor calling.
Vehement jealousy interrogating
A confrontation been expecting.
Bit my tongue.
Hesitate injecting.
Why? What was wrong?
Her complacency in the way
Toxic courtship to prolong
My indecency
A tiresome cliché
Not the first one, to sing this song
Or the last, malignancy
She passed through my gray
Shining white		Human grace
Divine light
Abolished latency
Blood, time and space
Will make things right
Unfed appetite
Plight of Exigency

END.


Written Saturday November 29th 2014
Inspired write.  No further explanation.
By J.R. Thornton

The Letter

It had been three days of complacency  
from suffering cupid's indecency.
Tossing and turning till the break of dawn
made her decide he simply must be gone. 

Not one to suffer idiocy this way,
she resolved to send a note without delay.
Some paper was found, and with it a pen
stashed in the corner of her husband's den.

"My dear", she wrote, in the blackest of ink,
"I have a problem that won't let me think. 
Alas, in-spite of my fiercest protest
you've taken up residence in my nest.

I've noticed your eyes, they light up in glee
touching my skin as you whisper to me.
We can't be lovers, it just isn't fair
this must be our private burden to bear. 

And so, good sir, I must bid you adieu, 
I've been here too long and have things to do."
With one last flourish the missive was done,
Signed and then dated, her heart weighed a ton. 

Sealing the letter, she walked down the road
straight to a post box to drop off her load.
From her mad delusions, escape it sought 
and slipped from her fingers into the slot.

6.12.2016

Premium Member Violette Poem - Ooh La La

Plucky, we see the pond
With dervish eyes we bond
Dive in the great beyond
And ooh la la

He thinks she’s quite a dish
Handsome’s her one true wish
Into the sheets they swish
With great oompah

Like thrashing out of sea
Steamy fish feel so free
As who they’re meant to be
Waves wild hoopla

Of two young shades of gray
Whipped up, the seas obey
Oui! Oui! Risqué-parlez*
Midlife’s booya!

The calming of the deep
Married love never cheap
Embraced hearts fall asleep
After hoo-ha

3/15/2018
Mick Talbot’s Violette Poetry Contest

*What’s love without a little French ;)
Pronounced: wee wee risk-ay par-lay
Oui - Yes
Risqué - verging on impropriety or indecency (bedroom banter)
Parlez - Speak
Booya - urban dictionary: hell, yeah

Verily I State

VERILY I STATE…
     Celebrating enjoying life, I tolerate others’ leisure all the time.
I know people live for the sun to shine.
     I just ask that if I respect your rights, you respect mine.

Toleration is a broad word.
     I will narrow it down to liberality.
An instance of this is superlative.
     Therefore, here is my list of munificence…

I can tolerate the world of indecency.
     Many find this to be the sex industry.
*********** is for adults.
     I tolerate because of law enforcement.
They do not allow this form of entertainment in the United States to mainstream.
     They regulate this diligently.

As long as it is in a constructive mind, I can endure the test of time.
     When you are worthy, I can sentient.
I will hug you with a mammoth love, ensuring you that you are exceptional.
     You have your rite to the extreme, as long as you kept it law abiding.

Justice will prevail in self-defense.
     When it does not, you must know why it didn’t.
Withstanding all the risks, threats, and dangers, I tolerate because that is the way 
     of a civilized universe.
With all said, I yield to see and embrace your rostrum of sustainability and universal 
     freedoms. 

This is my philosophy on considerations, which is an understanding of indifference, 
     a factor to open-mindedness, and the allowance of the fulfillments of life.
Verily I state that tolerance is the rite.
     Practice tolerance and be gratified.
_____________________________________|
Penned on June 05, 2014!

Candy Coated Wreck

Paperless dolls and run-less runs –
Roller coaster rides and fun-less fun.
Hopscotch and blisters; banana-seat bikes –
Hand games and shout-backs too.

Quiet-less walks at 3:00 in the morn –
Virtual stranger rides with indecency.
Cracker-jacks and white wine spritzers –
Early morning-midnight bizarre.

Hellish targets for our holy aims –
Lipsticks red and perfumes sweet.
Mustard corndogs with licorice malt –
Chocolate mustache with milk beards.

Sunstroke and fallacy whipping tales –
Tongue-tied talk and all the such.
Hair-unwoven nightmares & bobby pins –
Lurid washed-out make-up; oh the horror.

Candy-less sugar pops dressed in green –
Wrappers prettied up in dazzling clash.
Malt whiskey and bourbon please –
Ante up for your hill-less ride.

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