Best Mangled Poems
To know a man
to know a man
is to know what he expects
without him telling you
know what he hates
know what he loves
know what he wants
without a word said
his desires are understood
and prepared for him on a platter
but, once love, respect, and honor
has left the marriage, it becomes
all for nothing
there's nothing i can say that matters
nothing i can do that'll change a thing
just the cold hard facts he no longer desires me
A Mangled Heart...
Why do my tears not simply fall,
my heart mangled, cast along these empty streets
a wreck left to rust, bleakly lost in the blurry haze,
my dreams blowing in the dust of the passing days.
Why do my tears not simply fall,
weeping within, fractured inside,
memories of you wounding me still,
a void so vast no one else can ever fill,
cradling memories, glowing with your light,
as another day departs, beckoning one more,
barren, cold, hollowed-out wednesday night.
Form:
How interesting can you be ?
Once whole and confident
Focused Intent
A likely pre set present tense
All my ducks in a row
Ready to cluck out in militant fashion
A prepubescent repetition
Shallow and still
Reflection and refraction
The reinvention of perfection is a fruitless pursuit
Decades of good intentions
Mirrored by calloused intervention
In a frigid current
Bent, by shifting sedimentation,
its perception
Busted back
Crumpled putrid IF- I-CA-tion
Mangled fingerling
Chewed up and spat out
Indistinguishable platitudes
Presented for inspection
Consorted and Contorted
Beyond Recognition
The Reclamation paralyzed, in part, by Bombastic Voyeurs and
The Chief Architect
Whose The Supplicant Saboteur ?
I Am Whole
My limbs may be mangled and tore from its base but my heart reflects pure pride, you can see it in my face, there is no disgrace. Though my body has been through the ringer of life, my heart will not contain the poison of strife.
I am whole.
A limb is a limb, it’s only the physical me, but it can’t touch my spirituality. That’s what makes the man or the woman, not just the shell, when it’s gone there’s the other. Otherwise how shallow are we?
I am whole.
My eyes can’t see the hues of the light, every time of day it looks just like night. But that does not stop me from being intelligent, that’s not all in the eyes, it just isn’t, it’s in the cement of the brain, I still have good sense.
I am whole.
My ears just can’t hear what you’re saying to me. I see your lips moving but I can’t hear a thing. My eyes draw a picture of what I think you’re trying to say, I’ll learn to move my fingers, that’s the sign language way to convey what my mind wants to say.
I am whole
My body may be mangled in one way or another, but still I can soar and show off my dynamic colors. My body may be missing the benefit of legerity, but my personality is unstoppable which leads to sure prosperity because,
I am whole.
Mangled Minds
Mangled Minds entwined with Rhymes,
My brother’s repeat this nonsense,
Once brilliant men, now lost my kin,
Just ramble in confusion,
Many a man that I’ve met on life’s road,
Has endured the weight of trials untold,
And some survived to thrive and die,
But most just fell, into this hell, that sometimes still afflicts me,
Where are you God? And are you fair? For then these men needed you most, you
didn’t seem to be there.
And this is the fate which grabbed many a man,
Who stood the tied, and proclaimed Christ to this land,
And I wonder if, it is not finally my lot,
To Join Them.
Romeo, my Romeo, I adore thee, whispers Juliet,
oh you cause my heart to race with each tiny beat,
many times I dreamt being a wife and all your own,
end this torment, sire your babies, take me home,
oh, Romeo, beloved Romeo, say you will have me.
No, Juliet, I'm afraid not, replies hard-to-get Romy,
age and situation tell me we're just not meant to be,
circumstances do not smile on us, my luckless lady,
eighteen summers you are whilst I'm almost sixty,
sire babies? spirit is willing but the flesh is weak.
Daytime arrives and starry-eyed Romeo awakes,
realizing he was dreaming from night till daybreak,
engaging in romantic thoughts he could ill afford
amid obligations and a quite unforgiving landlord;
might as well start working, go straight for the kill,
sleep and nightmares would not pay his utility bill!
This fate is severely mangled
fierce storms define its exterior
And in this daze,
they do not cease
Heartstrings tear its beliefs,
and fatality enjoys it
Shades withstand its
diminishing effects
So without pace
its slowing trance atones
Passion draws its pangs
and futility reminds it
Form:
I'm afraid
I'm broken
Time's delayed
Imprisoned in my mind
Its eating me alive
All hope is left behind
Tears flow like rivers carving casms
Down my face and straight into my heart
Holding my will to live at ransom.
My choices stolen, never returned.
Hopelessness, helplessness, lonliness
Wandering blind, Lessons never learned.
What would i say with my final breath
Suicidal thoughts consume my head
Inevitably a pointles death
A 3-6-9 Poem
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Monday 26th July 2021
The congregation of passportology
Is an overwhelming majority
Don’t know much of my geneology
Even don’t belong to minority
But anyone can attach me of course
To the less equal nation in Orwellian sense
For that mental trick I must feel some remorse
Must believe in the depth of offence
But I must be a little madder
To take this to the heart, my dear
And I must be a little sadder
To notice your hidden sneer
I hail the first world’s excellent decisions
To send back asylum seekers, to humiliate
Those who have fled for justice, petitioners
The exiled opposition they also hate
Idealists can’t find a way to learn
Except their own personal ordeals
But the idealists are not my concern
For officials mercy I wouldn’t appeal
Cause I must be a little madder
To plead without any pretension
And I must be a little sadder
To rejoice at the dole of attention
My way seems to be rather tangled
Maybe I’m hanging around for too long
What I have said would be mangled
What I have thought would be gone
But this moment feels about right
Like an orphic bird that beats in my hand
The white clouds fill the sky at night
And my bird flies to the southern lands
But I must be a little madder
To follow that bird, my love
And you must be a little sadder
To look for the stars above.
Datura(belladonna perhaps in another form)
Matures the galaxy in jealousy despising love
Releasing jasmines death twisting Aphrodite's heads upon loves rewinding failures
Creation in question
Call from my mouth your kindness
Respond silence
Squander obnoxious craft
Illness requires me
And again
I disappear your vapors