Best Insinuated Poems
Gazing at windmills, dare you see Giants;
Call impossibilities imposters,
Incapable of withstanding your blade?
Or are you fearful of approbations
Of insanity insinuated
By the ignorant? Only Quixotic
People possess dreams consideration
Worthy – visions demanding better days.
Status quo subversives – call them poets,
Persistent purveyors of personal
And societal Dissatisfaction.
Excuses excluding innovation,
And personal insulation must go!
We can, shall, will resolve persistent pains.
a hush shivers my spine,
it reeks havoc and I no longer speak-
I traveled back in time,
the only thing I find
is the tapping of soft feet.
they keep quiet at daybreak,
and wipe a tear before bed-
unspoken words are insinuated
when you're hungry...unfed.
pull the plug,
shock me with paddles,
remorse comes so cheap,
when you're the sinner who reaps-
hush little babies,
don't cry when your broken,
for so much is said with
words unspoken.
a lonely boy follows til
he can no longer see-
and in his last breath
he whispers hello to me.
I wonder if the little birdie knows
there's no room for pain-
asking questions,
demanding answers,
driving everyone insane.
freedom of speech can
reveal so much,
as the pain of a whisper
can damage as such.
no reasons for healing,
my dealing is dead,
sanctify moments of
sorrow before bed.
sinister and snaggle-toothed
you slur with wine on your breath,
all lies hidden in the truth,
when you wake up lost...dead.
suicidal tendencies
stole you away from me,
tragic hushed ease,
the cruelty finally frees.
until the day arrives when
you can speak with love,
I shall hope with grace
you'll find healing from above.
fly away black dove...
fly away...
June 19, 2017
Tattle cries are just as loud as battle cries,
but the difference is
tears from mannequins dry on untouchable skin.
You may have a purpose, but your attempt at a movement
is motionless because your passion
is a carefully constructed image
replicated in a false ideology
that manifests into something specific
obtaining a manual manipulation.
A self servant visibility is indicative
of an egocentric personality and everything insinuated
to be perceptually believed as sacred
usually doesn't leave further than the tapping of your fingers.
You proselytize by regurgitating the ways
of a preferred deity and establish yourself
by turning your mirror to reflect the angle
of how you want to be seen and adjust your thoughts
for a higher seat in your vanity
in order to possess everything in your hypocrisy.
The feedback you get initiates a sedimentary mask
you proudly wear and give a name to because
as a statuesque representative in an upscale consumption
of physical and mindful gluttony,
it is the exemplary rock to inscribe your identity.
You disguise it as spirituality, enlightenment, or awareness
labeling it as politics, religion, parenting, racism,
abortion, extortion, activism, or sexism.
It does not, in anyway, alleviate
the struggling strong minded from with holding their weeps
on garments bled by friends in unsung tongues and private sin,
in time well spent where the secrets
of the heart are kept for keeps rather than exposed and disposed of
in a widespread generic documentary
for the world to see the effects of their warfare.
Where words of vulnerability and exposed nerves
are perceived as nothing but memes and black sheep
trying to be shepherds making lists of things
to better humanity in articles utilized by a machine.
As if the top ten life hacks will take neglcted children
out of the slums of a poor shack
and stop the hateful attacks on those who need welfare.
The bandaging by labeling and over medicating
will not eradicate the urgent need for eye to eye,
flesh to flesh, heart to heart
laughing, kind, grateful, melting of this
plastic society.
anxiety insinuated pressure
denigration isolation,
spiritual deflation
all of today's ingreidents beyond
our needs,in abundance,
from (where?) does this all come.?
They sit high – very high
in their echelons of such great importance,
where they can look down
on us
(all the millions of us excluded
from their exclusive group) -
from the penniless and the ever-struggling souls
to the middle class and even
to many of the upper classes -
Oh, the countless souls they have convinced
that their falsehoods are truths.
With money and with powerful connections,
and with the "so-called" science of those they bribe
to push their falsehoods,
they have insinuated themselves
into every organization of great importance,
where their ultimate purposes
can best be carried out.
The “Cancel Culture” originated with them,
for they try to silence those who oppose them.
They cause their messages
to be imprinted on the minds
of the masses through endless repitition
in the conventional media that they control.
This constant regurgitation of their messages
becomes the belief system
of nearly the entire global community.
They talk and talk and talk,
feigning interest in OUR best interests
as they sit high – very high
planning out an end game
which does not really
have all that much longer
to be played out.
March 3, 2021
for Beata Agustin's 'MY SIGNIFICANT 2021 POEM ' Poetry
My only dramatic monolgue of the year and also one of my most significant poems.
deranged snapshots of reality
full-moon's analytical quagmires
conceptualizing archetypes,
creating art of duplications
venturing prickled duplicity,
slapped me bout sideways
insinuated tacklin' romance,
uncompromising twist since
you thought me a maniacal *****
took a spin on the wily horizons
landed horizontal 'tween thighs
'twas a wee prick of somethin'
naught patter of heartbeats,
whitewashed the lunacy
off my derriere & cleavage
attempting to forget the
writing on the cosmos
when it beckoned me to
your teensy universe
from birth until this moment with your family as supporting team
the journey within your space/ time continuum stream
found trials and tribulations comprising the spool o yar existential ream
some incidents assessed in retrospect might now appear
as particularly significant undertakings – getting you grounded with clear
insight into what future dreams may become manifest with yar dear
beloved husband – I aver to when ye will endure empty nest fair
lee soon, whereby yar life will constitute andy and his anatomical gear
whose cupidity, fidelity, integrity, levity, opportunity, runneth tranquil
tiding up for gatherings or packing with his efficient globe trotting skill
bubbling with energy, harmony, synergy through his confluence he rill
lee doth possess – in my humble opinion, though less to take quill
to paper, him this brother in law applauds how he accepted any bitter pill
i.e. figuratively when the fickle finger of fate seemed to obscenely mill
a tate a contrary outcome than he desire, a fighting esprit de corps did fill
his entire being – putting forces of destruction re: no longer threat of evil
which waywardness with this poetic intent to type a birthday cheer
sans thy lovely sister activated thoughts pertaining to positive people dear
as senescence shuttles thine youngest harris heiress who everywhere
she goes affects a blessedly diplomatic, friendly holistic imprimatur
and thus tis probably apropos to attempt to communicate with mere
crude symbols i.e. the 26 letters of the alphabet to formulate the near
wrist approximating her significance in me xy z lived life a prayer
and many a broken wing, but tis necessary 4 me 2 expunge – though rear
the positive presence (most often invisible) whence shari did tear
out from the birth canal even at that early infantile stage did wear
autonomy to evince can do spirit whereby she irresistibly insinuated an air
that inexplicably captivated family, friends, romans….with no blare
ring burst, but she exhibited a magnetic trait – I now heartily cheer
cuz many stepping stones to mine current ah fair
rooted tuber remembered per the unsolicited advice aye did hear
when oft times shuttered in this man cave, hell lair
re: us lee chuckling at online jokes, which laugh tier
medicine for this bot deed father, a pro motor still sputtering each year.
A Realization
Once upon a time, a baby was born
In a small town near the green mountains.
He was living life off from thorn.
Blessed! But he’s always in pains?
He had all that he desiderates;
…All sorts of visual things he named.
His life was viewed by people as perfect
But his jaundiced views were not tamed.
His conviction of what’s good from bad,
To obey his parents or his heart?
All “withins” conflicted realities;
But stood still gaining victories.
When he craved for peace and happiness
The world insinuated, “Gain degrees!”
He obeyed the world and “he” ‘til fitness
Has drawn. A striving man almost ceased!
The tour of uncertainties fastened.
Then, he was asymptotic to death.
“The search for realities is through- end?
What’s really real? To view death as faith?”
When he was fighting for his lone life,
He search again what was unanswered.
He screamed, “God…God… are… are you alive?
Before this ends, be real! You’re unheard!”
He suddenly filled like stone from above.
The sound of ambulance was heard.
Its sound was like freedom of a dove?
Or it sounded like death- we always feared?
A sad month passed by just like a jerk.
There was no hope and nothing to hope!
One single night reality was torqued.
He shouted, “God is real!” and woke!
And from then on the doubtful boy was fixed.
All his incertitude was vanished.
A renewed life after a heavy rain?
Or rainbow after reality finding?
My body confides in me
in grudging ways,
with little murmurs and signs,
each trying to get attention
without snapping its fingers in my face,
like faint, mysterious radio signals from (inner) outer space
that escape detection often,
comprehension always,
small aches that ghost through my body and
the already over-populated radar of my consciousness,
as if keen on being missed,
rashes like miniature night bloomers on the
vast landscapes of my limbs and torso,
origins unknown,
non-rashes, equally tiny, anonymous things,
that surface but don’t stay long enough
before sinking back into the realm of the forgotten,
eyelid twitching out a code decipherable by no man.
I receive frequent messages,
hinted, insinuated, encrypted.
My body has its own mind.
I’m trying to be a better reader.
Sleek, wet, brown bodies
Nakedness insinuated
Hair trailing behind wide eyes glistening
Blinking streams of water from them
Mom yells
”Stay close to the edge in case you need to grab it!”
Sometime in life you will need to grab the edge
And pull yourself up
Through reflective lenses
Into someone else’s eyes
So the emptiness in you doesn’t fill with water
And pull you down
Too far
For the light to reach
Seems like forever since I saw you last,
my dreams died when I was in your arms,
I knew you'd betray me, but never that fast,
I know the secret to your sharp-witted charm.
You blew me away like a kite in the cloud,
you insinuated I'd be the one to leave,
you were way too filthy and way too proud,
your actions are what brought me to believe.
you..preoccupied
me...forgotten like the wind
us...lost in failure
I know the secret to your sharp-witted charm,
seems like forever since I saw you last.
you've arrested me twice both times unarmed,
you threw me out like yesterday's trash.
Your actions is what brought me to believe,
you blew me away like a kite in the cloud,
what was the mission you wanted to achieve?
I always knew you were arrogant and proud.
Egotistical head
cleverly narcissistic
bring nothing but pain
***I don't know if this is a poetry form or not, but I wanted to try something different***
The first two stanzas are quatrains followed by a senryu, then another two quatrains followed by another senryu.
The first line in stanza three, is the last line in stanza one.The second line in stanza three is the first line in stanza one.
The first line in stanza four is the last line in stanza two. The second line in stanza four is the first line in stanza two.
Written By: Laura Loo
Date Written: March 30, 2016
I fell ill.
My heart dilated.
I had a pain on Christmas Eve
where my heart should be.
I remember because my sister
called me from Australia.
I said "I have a pain in my chest Teresa."
I had dissolved my marriage and
my mother was recently dead.
My work as a midwife on night duty
was too stressful.
The doctor refused to come to
the too hot, too heavy,
newborn December baby.
Like a turkey out of the oven.
I fell ill.
The heartless cardiologist insinuated
I had four years to live.
My heart had dilated.
Teresa whispered in my ear on leaving
for Australia again after Mum's funeral.
"I will come home to nurse you."
I got a second opinion.
I told him "My heart is broken".
He treated me with respect
until I got better again.
My heart has healed.
My heart had to break
for me to break free from you.
I survived against all odds.
I almost ended it all. How foolish.
My heart has healed.
My future car from sealed.
"If you desire healing,
let yourself fall ill
let yourself fall ill."
- Jalaluddin Rumi
29/11/2016
Feeling again
Ice water floated stagnant misery in caustic veins coffin nails and razor blades
waited for the vultures of frosted lavish lava-daggers staring at the mirror with
no reflection other than the murderous screams numbed by images of tangled
ropes teasing from sunken rafts and twisted rafters train tracks guiding void
demise frozen blazing ashes suffocating feelings that cannot feel any longer when
moribund candles flickered reaped what had been lost submerged forgotten in eternity
This cess pit of smudged smeared convulsed spider web on death row of mindless
mind does not resemble what the Buddha meant when he or she insinuated
mindful nothingness Nirvana half starved but happy under the fig tree’s shadow
One step at a time barefoot when spirituality meant ‘Jonny Walker’ all waters
turned into whining wine homeless wandering under bridges of destruction
appeared to be at least some being tempted dissolution dancing rugged demise
at the cliff face of life living hell aneasthetised vanished meaning arrested river
flowing backwards to the Source a sprinkling spring temptation clothed in rags
and feathered tarnished nakedness tarred with just one brush the stroke of black
Lost figs composted marbles undergrowth of metamorphous germination alighted
when grapes turned into peaches mingling scented wakes of wakening blossoms
once icicles melted merged into tingling titillating finger-skin and fingertips searched
to join minds with souls and souls with minds and bodies touching senses feelings
intellectual pheromones oozing from the fruits of scented fragrance life togetherness
they formed a delta confluence new openings direction thrusts and trust and nurture
Many nights have passed since peaches’ revelation revolution formed scooping spoons
from moons and moons from spoons delicious rhythmic rhyming twines of poet trees
in living motion poetry and miracles suspended and conjoined at hips and minds
09th July 2016
I will always wonder what sort of love we had.
I was naive and blindly infatuated.
You were seventeen years older than I, and sad.
From the beginning our shaky love was fated.
We had met and I fell, but patiently waited,
a fact for which both of our families were glad.
Even though we spoke with words insinuated,
I will always wonder what sort of love we had.
I wonder if we were a curious dyad.
Was this acerbic love become hate belated?
Only God will decide if this is good or bad.
I was naive and blindly infatuated.
Love faded rapidly after we had dated.
I wondered if I should remain calm or be mad,
I questioned guilty feelings that were created.
You were seventeen years older than I, and sad.
You were time-worn, emotionally armor-clad.
I understand now you would never be sated.
You bore the spirit of an unsettled nomad,
from the beginning our shaky love was fated.
Achingly romantic dreams I had created,
a basis for lifetime togetherness’ launchpad.
Alas, I have become confused and frustrated.
Tomorrow, in a renewed search for Galahad,
I will always wonder.
Tell me exactly why you left.
Did you think I wouldn’t care?
I’ve been beat up and bereft,
as I sit quietly and stare.
I painted pictures of our romance, and you ripped them to shreds.
You’re a tainted permanent fixture, I tripped and fell on my head.
Where was I when our summer fling dried up and withered?
Your care was back then, a runner sings lies without trust delivered.
Forgive me for wondering, but was another woman on your mind?
I don’t live free, pondering, was your lover an easy girl to find?
Trust has been broken and our book closed its final chapter,
Lust has been spoken and I’m decomposed, you’re the primal extractor.
No remorse was shown and your goodbye was only insinuated,
I reinforce I’m alone and you fly so high as I sit quietly intimidated.
I’ve been beat up and bereft,
as I sit quietly and stare,
tell me exactly why you left,
did you think I wouldn’t care?
Date Written: May 19, 2016