Best Maims Poems
He's a WORD Casanova
He butters them up
Gives sips from his cup
words syrupy sweet
a tasty love treat
makes the girls swoon
to his sensual croon
The Word Casanova
His words are his charm
they dismantle alarm
“sugar and spice”
and they gush..."OH…SO... NICE!"
Demanding submission
to his domination
He metes out a rule
and watches them drool
The Word Casanova
The thing that's obscene
In his plan, in his scheme
He plays and he preys
as his trap there he lays
he wants every one
each heart must be won
Not content to befriend
Wants much more in the end...
The Word Casanova
So he hurts and he maims
And they writhe as he blames...
Ladies….LADIES!!
It's just a game...a GAME
What a shame!
The Word Casanova
This is a poem I wrote some time ago but deleted when I was considering leaving this place. I'm slowly reposting my deleted poems. I'm fully aware that a woman can play this role as well....a Casanovette! It is not gender specific
Freezing cold
unbearable frost ridden cold
Finger numbing unforgiving cold
cold you could burn in
Cold that could bury you in ice
The kind of cold that bites
The kind of cold you fight
with weapons that most often fail
Cold that burn with a different flame
Freezing extremeties until they're lame
Killing cold the cold that maims
Everywhere the hell outside
Even the moments beacon hide
Yet fragile is the shelter inside
where cold creeps inwhen it decides
Snow has become the flames of fire
everywhere around us as it desires
And yet the oppisite of hells fires
but the same effect as God requires
This is a lesson about a place
while we have choices and our escapes
spring will come and winters erase
But what is there for this hellish race?
What is there when you can't escape?
Words are like weapons with bullets of lead
That pierce through your soul when angry and said.
When someone shoots his mouth off like a loose cannon,
You can’t help but get hurt as the mortar is landin’.
The thing about these wounds to the soul,
There’s no bleeding to stop from invisible holes.
Though, on the surface, there are no wounds to tend,
The damage is often deeper and harder to mend.
Masked by pride, courage or good old denial,
Make no mistake, this pain maims and defiles,
Reducing the toughest man’s heart to that of a child's.
So the next time you’re angry, don’t be absurd.
Lay down your weapons of hollow point words.
There is a better way to accomplish your goals
Without doing battle and wounding other's souls.
'TIS POWER, TO THE PEN OF THOUGHTS TO WRITE
FOR WORDS OFT' TIME SPOKEN ARE ON A FLIGHT
TO A NOWHERE LAND AND THEN LOST IN THE MISTS OF TIME
BUT PENNED, NOW THOSE WORDS ARE IMMORTALIZED
IN THE MINDS OF THE PERUSERS TO BE SCRUTINIZED
COMMENCE THE WRITING THOUGHTLESS IN MIND TO FREE THE PAIN
TO CLEAN THE AIR TO RID THE GUILT
AND HIDE THE SHAME OF IGNORANCE NAME
AND MISUNDERSTANDING STACKED UP TO THE HILT
'TIS HUMAN BUT TO ERR AS BEFORE SO OFT' DECRIED IN SHAME
THIS FEAR AND FEAR ALONE THAT SETS THE DOUBT
FOR FEAR IS LACK OF FAITH AND HARD THE PATH TO MAKE
'TIS LIES AND DECEIT THAT ULTIMATELY MAIMS THE PATH
AND RUINS THE LIVES OF PEOPLES DEVOUT
IT'S PEOPLE WHO PEOPLE SICK AND IN DOUBT MAKE
WHETHER ONE WOULD CREDIT THE FACT OR NOT
TAKE FOR INSTANCE AND FOR ARGUEMENT'S SAKE
THE THREE THINGS THAT CAUSES AFFINITIE'S ROT
YOU, THEM AND THE OFFENDING SUBJECT
THEN ASPERSIONS CAST AND SLANDERING BEGIN TO MAKE
THE SUBJECT OF THE DEBATE LONG LOST IN REGRET
FOR RIGHT MUST BE THE PATH TO TAKE
'TIS BUT HUMILITY HEIGHTENED TO APOLOGISE
'TIS ONLY BUT HUMAN TO ERR, AND THAT FACT, TO RECOGNISE.
Hate Kills Love saves
Hate devours Love envelops
Hate rapes Love is pure
Hate overpowers Love is addictive
Hate removes reason Love brings reason
Hate angers Love understands
hate is violent love is gentle
Hate starts wars Love ends wars
Hate is a lie Love is truth
Hate cheats Love is fair
Hate is cold hearted Love warms the heart
Hate steals Love is given
Hate causes Jealousy Love trusts
Hate brings defiance Love brings Joy
Hate brings down buildings Love Moves mountains
Hate kills children Love brings new life
Hate maims Love heals
Hate tears families apart Love brings families together
The Devil is hate God is Love
Which do you prefer?
Every year at Chanukah,
Like from divine command,
My grandma made the cookies
All her grandkids would demand.
These humble sugar dainties,
Cut in shapes and rolled out thin,
Served as harbinger that Chanukah
Could finally begin.
But each one, crisp and delicate,
Came with the possibility
That part of it would snap away,
Because of its fragility.
So lions rarely kept their tails
And candles lost their flames.
The sturdy dreidels, still intact,
Were prized for lack of maims.
A colored sugar dusting
Coated each and every shape.
From sugar sparkles on your clothes
You never could escape.
My grandma passed her cutters down
To me, and so I strive,
With floured hands, to help to keep
Her recipe alive.
Today I gamely baked a batch;
My kids made the request.
I picture grandma’s smiling face
And think she’d be impressed.
Bogeyman, Bogeyman you come again
My night of hope screams for crumbs to eat
I'm iust a boy needing a few coins
Offering old tin cup to rich men on the lane.
Cold my body wrapped like soiled paper,
Echoing my plea for mercy or grace
Yet, I'm bypassed like a rag, a nameless tag,
While you laugh at my dingy fate, mocking
A young life's poverty... I bellow of angst
Instead of helping me learn in school,
Your trace of arrogance maims my bones
Do vou know how hard it is to sleep in the rain?
Bogeyman. Bogeyman... one day, you just might
Take my place, and hear not the echo
Of kindness reverberating from heaven's call.
10/27/2016
For The Seeker's Being Homeless Contest
What a treacherous lot this monster brings,
Thoughts of hatred and plenty evil things.
It sits and chews until its bitter sweet,
Then spews it out all over the already rotten meat.
It's disturbing presence surely curses me,
Never knowing witch of its faces today I will see.
It twist, flips and, cleverly spins its web,
Until I can't make sense of anything inside my head.
I run and I hide and I try to lock myself far away,
It doesn't ask permission to come out and play..
It kills and maims everything within its path,
Then just sits back and revels in a tear soaked bath.
With the wraith of Zeus and Hades soul,
The monster has me under its complete control.
M. Lyn Church
January 30,2013
« She must suffer to her last breath. (…) They’ll all soon be as Dead as 0-Ren Ishii. »
« That woman deserves her Revenge. And we deserve to die. »
From « Kill Bill Vol. 1 »
I
Two French girls in Paris
one aged thirteen
the other fourteen
together take wing.
The police bring them back home.
Then hand-in-hand they jump
from their seventeenth floor flat.
They leave behind a note :
« This life has nothing to offer.
What are we living for ? »
An Austrian socialist philosopher-journalist in Paris
in perfect physical health
lies down beside his terminally ailing English wife
never to wake again together
after bequeathing their papers and wealth
not to the Socialist Party
but to a Catholic charity.
He leaves behind a long love letter
his very last remember-me book.
Till death does not do us part.
A Stateless poet passes through Paris
with his Spanish putative spouse
and infant boy.
Paris casts a covetous eye on the mother.
She plans the poet’s murder
and maims her son for life.
The People’s protectors pressgang her
and daily pound the poet to pulp.
Vive ! la France ! Viva ! la Francia !
II
A lone coyote trumpets over the sakura strewn snow
A moanful flute tugs at nostalgic heartstrings
Meiko Kaji comes on with her plaintive lilt :
Urami yibushi
We’ve not long to go in this void
The still frozen air gasps through swishing slices
Spurting Strüwel-Peter blood and bones
cherry blossoms on the snow-clad parapet
struck down by the lethally-chilled sheen
of the Hattori Hanzo steel
To kill there need be no will
The will to kill resides in the sill
of the vengeful white of the eye
III
Even if we can’t stand it any longer, Lady
We’d rather not leave just yet in a hurry
Would we see the likes of this world again
Ever know what’s better than this domain
Unknown to us the slow melodious dirge
Tugs at us : stay yet a while, it whispers !
Who knows who’d be there to receive us
Yes, yes, stay yet a while, little lady !
Hum a sentimental ditty
Recall even a fated memory
Revive some moments of levity :
A friend a face an outing
A little tenderness
A tiny moment of harmony
Together in this wilderness
© T. Wignesan – Paris November 14 2007 (Rev. 2012)
From: T. Wignesan
Copyright ©: T. Wignesan – Paris November 14, 2007 (Rev. 2012)
Being alone gives me so much strength
That, in my own company, I feel like I am skydiving
Or deep sea diving
Totally in control of the gears of my equipment
But wholly compelled to follow those of nature!
Being alone allows me to be my own Queen
To shoulder the maims of my life myself
And to blame myself for any wrong decision
While applauding myself
For any angel dust that may have been thrust my way!
Pray, being alone gives me the opportunity to be human
To wish to accomplish my dreams
And to work hard at these
To relax and attempt to face life at my own speed
Without fearing to meet with the harshness of conventions!
Being alone gives me my own individuality
Yes, it takes solely a driven ambition to build a castle
And to throw parties in its ballroom every Friday
While ruling it with a sense of bliss
For living in it is as exquisite as the sight of a rainbow!
Being alone makes me the sole lover of my own self
Mind you, see me not as a narcissist
I do enjoy people's company and advice
But I wish to protect myself from harshness
Made of sensibility, I already know of the pain of abuse!
19th November 2017
Her golden tresses float
one by one-- down
No longer her crowning glory;
simply a reminder of what was--
what cannot be--
tormented by those perfect coiffures surrounding.
She would gather gossamer strands to bosom,
had she one to do so;
perhaps, even collect them to be worn again.
If only there were strength to be had....
Yet fortitude flew like Spring
taking with it the Summer joys
'til all that remains is the falling.
She awaits now.
There is but one final season
and her barren soul reflects the trees...
naked; dormant; forgotten
as her golden tresses float down.
Janet Cervenka 9/1/2015
Dedicated to Christie Riojas
"Stay in the fight and win"
October is Breast Cancer Awareness month.
This fight maims body and soul.
Picture Prompt: http://www.corbisimages.com/images/Corbis-42-75187865.jpg?size=67&uid=2e2d75a0-8d30-4643-9c96-f35a36c66986
As the TV screen comes alive,
Screeching with news of death,
In natural calamities and road accidents
Of war on Ukraine that kills and maims thousands
Of carnage and bloodshed,
Of gory tales of rape and molestation
Of manhandling and suicide
Of battered childhood and teary eyed women
Of politicians’ pandemonium open n’ outrageous
Their nasty tirade and mudslinging
And similar scenes of sickening magnitude,
My hands grope for the ‘remote’.
The channels swing past in lightning speed
From frenzied gyrations of lovers of celluloid
To serials lengthening into infinity
Of love betrayed, tears shed
Bonds snapped, hearts shattered
Until at last my fingers settle
On the wonders of the Animal Planet
Where the beasts roam free and fearless
Where there is no greed to hoard
Where no one wears a mask
And everything ruled by sheer survival instinct!
It laughed back--
Craven beast in need of feeding
Feasting--fleeting feeling...
Hungry fangs gnashed...they gnawed
Mashed and clawed...flaying flesh in a pool of cess
Washed down with milk from breast
Habitual inkling to kill things
Waiting not to mate until spring
Impetuous creature defies phylum-
defines asylum...sickening, spontaneous species
flings feces-howls at the moon
Cage can't contain, nature won't explain
this beasts absence in a chain
Contributes to no cycle-rips, maims
claims habitat at a laundry-mat
Missing link makes cousins of apes
murder, molests, rapes...
Filthy wraith bathes in hate
Made in a higher likeness
God must spite this human"itus"...
Inspired by Kristen Reynolds "March Madness"
THE COMPASSION OF CHRIST
The Son of God was the light
Paul saw Him, and He was very bright.
He was sent to heal our eternal maims
Using love, truth and peace as medications.
He shined our hearts
And we stopped hating.
He stopped us to steal
And we learned how to use different steals.
He wiped our tears
And we thought of our new treasures.
He was right,
When He led us day and night.
He died for our sin
Because He was not selfish.
We loved him
And we still loving him
Because He cares for us
Forever
And
ever.
By Alfonso II Warally Chris
26th05, 2017
He pauses for effect and pretends to listen and hear,
then proceeds anyway and gives the order to conquer.
Though far is his reach he is really very near,
causing destruction, he brings chaos and fear.
Silhouettes and shadows dance all over the wall
but he heeds not the warning of the impending toll.
From across the ocean he kills, maims and attacks,
he arrests and he tortures, he insults and he mocks.
He drops bombs, launches cruise missiles and planes,
he fires cannons, sends troops on ships and trains.
He barks orders, he wiretaps and he spies,
he fundraises, he schemes and he lies.
He does not hesitate to place fighting men in harm’s way,
yet years ago, when put to the test, he scampered away.
He’s brave and he’s fearless he will do whatever it takes
as long as it’s not his sorry life at stake.
His nation’s best come home in cold, flag-draped coffins,
but not to worry, just statistics, save the cost of morphines.
For the good times roll for the dumb warrior and his base
since November 2000 and it has always been the case.
He turns wives into widows, innocent kids into orphans,
sowing deaths on thousands of daughters and sons.
He cries crocodile tears, even tries hard to appear he’s sorry
in front of cameras for the headlines of the day.
He never fails to attend service with his wife every Sunday,
a black sheep once but claims the Lord showed him the way.
Yet nothing will stop him from character assassination
for his party and, believe you me, in the name of his nation!
We’re spreading democracy, the little boy warrior says,
in press conferences he holds on some occasional days.
While his weary war machine stutters and cranks,
his rich cronies laugh all the way to the bank.
Yes, the Decider smiles, he surveys and he conquers,
he pretends to listen though he does not really hear.
Shame on the whole world, the UN, shame on us all,
for not reining in this evil man and just taking the fall.