Best Nauseating Poems
~ Yolanda was--her name ~ Featuring:) Leonora Galinta
From a hell storm,
A mighty she-devil took on its form
Like a woman scorn ascending from the sea
Haiyan whipped across the central Philippines,
A deadly typhoon, maximum winds of around 315
Terrorizing the fragile mind before making landfall
Hitting with the center eye off from her hostility
A merciless turbulence that came and changed everything
Like a Massive Storm
She comes in as the wise thief of the day and night,
In her notorious gust of rage roars in disguise of thunder,
With the company of her own knight of darkness,
Raze all in a blast of waves wherever her path crosses,
Ruining one of the cities down to a devastation in the land
“Pearl of the Orient Seas.”
A mighty tempest in a woman’s name…. Yet,
A disgrace with more than an immortal man in strength,
Nature devouring nature itself
Including her stewards and stewardesses
An unmerciful encroachment, robbing, killing adults and children.
Yolanda, so cruel in her evil walloping!
A guest left smiling,
Engraving echoes of tears, from every single mourn
Vain, wicked, and colorless -no other air’s compare
The lives she stole, one heart at a time
Pouring down the most nauseating rain,
The pain is dissenting with everyone-- everywhere.
The bully of wind, invading sands of serenity
Unknowingly, far beyond your back----------------------------
Everybody will be summoning up more than your strength-
:)
The sting of shattered trust
fills his veins with toxic spite,
contaminating his heart.
He finds solace in a bottle,
quenching his resentment,
slurring forth caustic fumes;
nauseating his liver.
Until he spits her treachery up
with a sickening heave,
in the shallow, murky gutter
of a jaded man's reprieve.
.
Nauseating thoughts about noxious, and demeaning words
that smell worse than stinking socks on sweaty feet ,
replay in my head making me feel so small .
They swell in my mind , twisting my stomach,
urging me to throw up poisonous venom
of false accusations ,you've pumped into my blood stream.
But I know then , that after I regurgitate ,
this migraine you've caused will be gone, I will be relieved.
I will celebrate the accomplishment of living
without ever thinking of your existence again.
This time there'll be no effort to repair
nor would I feel the need to defend myself
for things I didn't do. This time I make no wrong decisions.
No , I will not be coming back to your illusional lies'parasites.
No, I will not cling to memories of better times ,
and inseparable moments, of sugar coated sweetness
and diabetic aftermath. My subconscious will memorise ,
but only the final act of your dramatic moods.
Our friendship is at permanent loss
But , I won't waste precious time scattering its ashes
nor mourning its death. No there 'll be no regret .
I will walk away from you , from all We ever had ,
I'll let new arms embrace me , and steal me from our past.
This is a revised poem . A big thankyou to all of those who helped me
with their suggestions.
For shame I write again
And indulge your memory
Doting on you baselessly,
As though you’re a man
For shame, I have no remedy
Because as a child, I could never know
And as I am, you couldn't trust my word
That I know you and I know hardship
Because while there was always milk for me
You are have always been
baking chocolate
And though I didn't know how unpleasant it would be
I faithfully escorted that dry dust to my mouth
Because you already owned me,
and my passion was arcane
I forfeited to you
To become fortitude, your stronghold
I gladly wed the night; I gladly wed your savagery
Soliloquies decorating the shrine in my heart
For you, my one good thing
I have no capacity to abandon
And I don’t know how to love conservatively
And as easy as spitting you out could be
I let you fester,
I let you make a home in me
But even now, I can still taste you in my mouth,
Where years should’ve made you disappear
And you’re nauseating
You’re the bitter product of bitter chocolate
I’m older now
and my youth won’t erase you
Nor passing moments, nor justified rage
And my heart is empty plastic
In my own hands
And you marauded me
I hate you more than there are words for
My resilience has long melted away
Yet you always have a hand on me
And I can’t make you leave
Eternal sunshine’s burning me
My lips remember, my lips grieve
For shame, I can’t forget you…
Hints not taken from countless missed calls,
and no replies to tons of texts.
Still she searches through social media clues,
pursuing like a hunter,
pondering why his green light illuminates.
Investigating google's archives,
she claims to be his number one fan.
She knows the clothes he wears
and the places where he eats.
Downloading images does not crave her fascination.
She follows him like the moon.
Lurking..
Standing at corners, hidden in alleys.
Her binocular eyes preying on him.
He can feel her watching silently.
Hear her obsessive deep breaths,
ensuing his every step.
The sight of her eerie image
is like a million beetles,
crawling under his skin,
driving him insane - controlling his mind.
Her nauseating voice leads to nervous sensations
with outbreaks of panicky perspiration.
His stomach tightens and heart beats violently.
His eyes glare in shock, his body seems frozen.
and all she can say is;
" I do it because I love you!"
Silent One
Simple Musing
7 November 2017
Just a quick example for the 'stalker' contest
Petrichor petals
float with departing zephyrs,
misplacing misunderstood messages,
whose true meanings are misinterpreted.
Mislaid memories
reflect on picture perfect puddles,
mentally memorising mistakes,
leaving behind a legacy of regret.
Painful passages
monopolise melancholic mind,
bittersweet swansong symphonies,
seduce soulful spirit into a sabbatical.
Pessimistic penitence
engraves on blank expression,
depicting disease, drifting to death,
nauseating numbness perpetually laments.
Silent One
Simple Musings
26 January 2018
Spiritual stagnation staggers senses
Insidious insanity of intermittent information
Gruesome gorging of gossips
Nauseating nature of narcissistic news
Oppression of other opinions
Flouting false faithfulness freely
Transparent traitors of truth
Hypocritical hype of haters
Evildoers exemplifying egregiousness
Transgressive territorial targets
Investigation into innocent itineraries
Mercilessly manipulating mainstream
Evidence effectively to expressively
Symbolize significant sign of the times
April 25, 2018
Sign of the Times Contest By John Hamilton
Third Place
The stranger in the mirror says:
Alz is not well
Those grey hairs alzways lose twenty-something
track of time ...
can’t tell when he’s at,
where he last slept
Or how he fell
My sixty-ish seconds of elusive,
lucid thought
wanna know why
am I wearing bottoms
shaped like a bell
As this bruised sanity,
so mnemonic frail,
vainly cling to the psychedelic notion
that these reminiscing eyes
are seeing swell
Alz is definitely not well
Got a funhouse mirror of the mind,
giving me the strangest
distortions of time
Had a spring dew wedding yesterday!
But my closest, unfamiliar kin repeatedly tell me,
my winter wife dearly passed away
ten years ago —
The wrinkled tears seasonally show,
120 new moon recall cycles
that ebb and flows
It alzways bothers me,
how it can be
that cherished memories
vanish like vapor
Sunset forgetfulness dawns so easily
Like the mist on the mirror,
which that vaguely familiar stranger breathe
As the nauseating fog of forgetfulness
uneasily dissipates once more,
I'm beginning to slowly understand
why it is, that blank expression reflection
in the mirror I do alzways abhor
It’s got my precious recollections evaporating,
these memento thoughts disappearing —
Such a queasy, erasure sensation
This fading identity illness
is a sickly feeling
I'm slowly beginning to comprehend
Alz is not well ... or ending well
there are times
when my heart
remains silent
when its pulse is
steady and slow
there are times
when i am
right with the world
fitting in like a piece
to an irregular puzzle
there are times
when the sounds
of the life that surrounds me
blend in infinite splendor
with the music that plays
within.
and then,
there are times
when my heart explodes
and its rapid beating
becomes too much
for the confines of my chest
there are times
when i seem to be
a square block
struggling to escape
this round hole
of an existance
there are times
when the cacophonous symphony
invading my mind
overlaps with what
i hear outside
and the resulting noise
is disarmingly similar
to my inner chaos.
and then,
there are times
when i wonder
when this
nauseating see-saw
will stop its
strange rhythm
when the boundaries
that dictate
the shape of my life
will stop their
shape-shifting
when i can be left
in peace.
and then,
each time
this wondering arrives
it is followed by a certainty
that the answer is
never.
Disgusting could be a weaker word to express the scene,
Nauseating and stomach-churning the locus has been;
Sliding, slithering, groveling, crouching, crawling, creeping,
Filling, feeling, and falling they were seeping and sleeping...!
Crab, lynx, silk, orb, ogre... varieties were within,
Specimen of many species, yet, resembled akin;
Weaving webs and entwining each other they pulled, and pushed,
Weighing and wheeling their bodies across they looked ambushed...!
Shooting silk out of their abdomen, they preyed on insects,
Powerful they all seemed as though with venomous effects;
The patience and persistence they practice can be adored,
Midst their ugliness their role in the world can't be ignored...!!!
03 June 2023
Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest
Bag of Spiders Poetry Contest
Written: June 23, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Bonds packed with zeros—harmony, grief, regrets,
In this endless cycle, memory no longer begets.
Your poetry is a symphony that stirs my soul.
But also a river of nausea in which I swim, whole.
Lonesome, dispossessed, my being in unrest,
A fetish for the departed, my electrons protest,
Darkened with heat and sound, aching for release,
Delicate slights, hunger, I cannot appease.
Bear me safe, classy, an echo of frustration
A decadent counter-revolution, my salvation.
Invention, force, and calculation may fade away.
But the lessons from failure forever stay.
The struggle mistake, the clarity we seek,
Caesar black vision is bold and unique.
Metaphors communicate wonders untold,
As a monkey and a cowrie shell, a story unfolds.
The absolute, shallow, and devoid of depth.
All surface, a worry that leaves us bereft.
To be zealous, and lewd as we bleed at sunrise,
That is the contract, the ultimate prize.
The journey of life, filled with harmony and strife,
Grief and regret are intertwined in this mortal life.
Memory fades as we seek a fresh start.
And your poetry is an art that ignites my heart.
Despite the beauty, a nauseating river flows.
A discomfort that lingers, a feeling that grows.
I swim in its depths, bare and exposed.
Deprived of control, my vulnerability imposed
Within me, a fetish for those who have passed.
Their presence lingers, casting shadows that last.
My electrons, once vibrant, are blackened by pain,
Absorbing the heat and sound of their refrain.
My little grandson is sincere.
He tells of me: “Grandpa stinks!”;
He tells of me; “Grandpa’s belly is big!”;
“He looks like Santa Claus with his paunch!”;
“And stinks too, he smells bad!”.
So, since he is sincere, I have no choice.
As a flower, I am the huge Rafflesia,
The largest flower in the world,
Which stinks too of rotten fish,
Nauseating and large as me!
But Rafflesia is beautiful to see!
Rafflesia Arnoldii
A rare, parasitic, rootless and leafless plant, Rafflesia arnoldii has the largest known flower in the world.
One cold night, deep in thought, and curled in fright,
From folklore tales aimed to scare;
My rigid poise froze to a screeching noise
Outside, a voice not like I've heard before, to leave I would not dare
“It’s probably just an owl or creature of the night out there"
I muttered to myself, then pretended not to care
Oh, I recall quite vividly this icy Winter’s night
With grainy sight, the sandman came to lead me to his land
The weariness I fought but eventually he caught
Pulling me quite taut to somewhere far less bland
Where I became the leader of a marvellous brass band
And down that path sandman tightly gripped me by my hand
Trumpeters and trombone players played musically in layers
Exciting each and everyone, spreading joy to all around
But my dreams were playing tricks, my mind was in a mix
The bass tuba sounded sick, not playing tuneful sounds
Instead a grating shrill, then the whining of a hound
The lightning and the rain came too, my dream then ran aground
Alone I grew more frightened and the intensity just heightened
The shrieks and shrills grew louder with an occasional thunder clap
Taking sanctuary under bed sheets, preying for melodic sound beats
Suffering this painful feat, my soul took a massive slap
Oh how I longed for it to stop and to return me to my nap
The bleakness of that night, my mind caught in a trap
Morning later broke, the ground outside was soaked
The noise had faded but there was still a haunting in my ears
A crunch, a grind, a squeak a whine
The cause I vowed to find, and to take away my fears
From the upstairs window I saw a farmer crouched in tears
And a windmill's broken sails; the mystery closure neared
Across the muddy field, I approached the man kneeled
Sobbing over what appeared to be a dead Alsatian
He'd found it just lying there, the hound, his best friend
Downed by a falling windmill piece, killing gods creation
"A slow death" the farmer said "he must have cried out for attention"
"And my mill cranks broken causing noises of a nauseating sensation"
Brave New World
A 'world' it is and it spins around in mad circuits of loopy loops.
Has reached an infinite array of denominations in which foolish
insane clowns have taken over the asylum once more as bedlam
pretends liberation as the counterfeit currency of nauseating progress.
'New' I have my doubts though when fiddling with reconstruction
conjures novel aspirations from Holocaust to Hiroshima from pure
race unadulterated megalomania to narcissistic greed ‘all can be
done’ but the genie emerges from Huxley’s toxic bottle unrestrained.
'Brave' should pertain to courage when golden means and common
sense of virtue defaced by ugly grimaces facades mascara of tainted
moderation succumbs to mediocrity construed by disingenuous evil.
An aberration of jesters plotting naked feasts of blinded engineering.
Temptation is an ancient theme and just because we are capable to
plot our own demise does not preclude some hesitation or valid
inhibition as courage must incorporate the rationale. Not to follow in
wolf’s clothing a script of Faustian cloning just because we can.
Manipulation of chromosomes through twisted recombining helices
as a stairway to hell gave us Dolly the sheep. Another incarnation
braying ‘Give me body parts’ to harvest stem cells modified amino
acids like little devils on steroids and protein shakes of unpredictability.
The most cunning argument for creating whole new persons brought
to the fore the notion that if we the ‘good ones’ do not follow science
to create what evolution failed to build from nature’s garden and God’s
promise then the malign others surely will and consequently all is lost.
The mind boggles in the light of self-righteousness and the delusion
that refusal and resistance are signs of cowardice and the misconception
that two or numerous wrongs result in right and law when duty could
prevail as guardian for another world of sanity and accepting our limits.
The thought police and miscreant paradigms of Dolly’s dogma will surely
try to silence my opinion that courage has another merit than the scientific
infestation that my mind and brain needs to be cloned in order to restrain
my voice of caution but when I shout ‘enough’ at least my dignity remains.
Passed the old church at midnight
Night time dark, damp and windy
Thoughts about coming home to a warm bed
Hear sounds from the bushes and trees
Glimpsing human shadows
They move slowly and very quiet
The wind comes against me with a rotten smell
The smell is indescribable nauseating
The lights of a car further down the street
gives me a cruel picture
Three human figures indented and rotting faces
Apathetic and dull but driven by the will to kill
The car is advancing by my side, the driver he knows he's seen it before
Zombies love this place at midnight
Never go here alone on the night of Halloween
Who has not heard of it ....
I can still smell the rotten smell
Sponsor Leonora Galinta
Contest Name Halloween Poem Contest with Only 1 theme.
15.10.2013
A-L Andresen :)
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(2nd place in the contest)