Best Overindulgence Poems
America, why did you stray from the old way.
A constitution put forth, the foundation of our land,
barely recognizable what was originally Jefferson's hand.
Tarnished and smudged by misinterpretation,
overindulgence and greed, to satisfy political,
judicial, and journalistic need.
Once majority rule, now bordering on ridicule,
the law of the land, ever changing, meeting demands,
of whoever takes a stand.
America, why did you stray, parents unable to discipline,
fear children undisciplined now rule, school in chaos,
students unruly, guaranteed to pass, unprepared for their future,
parents unsure, wish for the past, hope the next generation,
won't be like the last.
America, why did you stray, streets used to be a place to play,
neighbors knew one another, socialized every day,
doors left unlocked, nothing to fear, families stayed close,
helped one another, took care of mother.
Now drugs rule the day, hate and crime more common than play,
multiple locks symbolic of today, rarely talk to a stranger,
living in fear; life no longer precious, taken away,
day after day, the bloody count rises, a country in crisis,
victims pay, guilty appeal, courts give them the best deal.
Nobody protests for victims rights, put a murderer to death,
they scream all night.
America, why did you stray, hatred and bigotry alive
and well today, nationalities split, long for the old way,
when an American, was just an American, now hyphenation,
the accepted way.
America, why did you stray, once an industrial giant
you gave it away, too high a standard for industry to pay,
moved out of country, the new American way, unemployment,
poverty, homelessness rapidly increasing, ruined lives,
while billions are spent on so called allies.
America, why did you stray, what's written today,
barely address the wrongs building every day,
religion is accepted, God is not,
country divided, politically split,
presidential bashing provides journalistic wit,
hatred and bigotry, live for it.
America why did you stray, new chapters every day,
really a damn shame.
Why, oh why can't I deny
That the ones I love
Are causing my soul's hope to die,
But will you ever see it from my point of view
Or will you always consider my treasures
Were stored up for your constant abuse,
I graced your existence with the glistening seas
Provided you with an upholstery of richly colored trees
What more could I give to satisfy your needs?
You greed became a mockery to my dreams,
My toil and my labour expressed a love pure and true
Why can't you understand I created all things for you?
And though I hurt to see your apathy towards me
It is my overindulgence of you over the years
That has made this monster, Climate Change, roam free.
As I take my right hand and gently lay it across my chest, I begin to take a long deep breath. With my eyes shut tight every heart beat genuinely whispering cries I belong to you. Visualizing moving heaven and earth I thirst to touch you. Your love I lust…I yearn for you to wipe my tears if I shall ever cry. Your arms to hold me tight, your promised remarks of everything will be alright. Implying you’re here till the end of time. I lust to see your smile up close, to feel your heart beat as you hold me close. Lusting to be your wife, as God made water into wine I will make sure your forever mines. I lust to see you cry on our wedding day to be consumed with desire for my love you craved. Therefor never feeling like you’re less of a man. You know it’s you I cherish, our love so devoted. I will never judge you, my love is so true. I shall forever love you. Yearning for everything from you, lusting I adore you. As I hunger for your touch, so envious waiting. Impatient for your intimate kisses, I’m desperately seeking your intense lusting sexual attention. Your love is my weakness...My body itches to be your apprentice. I relinquish my body to you as a lifetime licorice. Craving your licking loving the closeness, my body quenches. My lips quiver as your tongue leaves its signature. Long strokes below my waist line, I vocalize for your appetite. As I lust into your eyes my passion erupting. I get greedy and needy craving your energy. Anticipation is all over me. Butterflies in my belly burn with intimacy, orgy devoted to our overindulgence fling….Forever Lusting
Chris Farley's idol was John Belushi
and Chris Farley assimilated John Belushi to a tee.
His very fast lifestyle, his overindulgence of drugs and alcohol
but he also assimilated John Belushi's comedy best of all.
Both have made me laugh so hard that I couldn't catch my breath.
Such a shame that Chris Farley also assimilated John Belushi's death.
I recall in my youth when Lenny Bruce was my idol.
I hope I don't assimilate his death and be found dead on my bathroom tile.
His more than ample physique,
was a profuse plethora of abundance,
a surfeit of shameless gastronome
that defined a cornucopia of excess
and a masticating overindulgence.
Such a pity to gormandize,
to binge, gorge, and satiate.
to devour in such excess,
in such morbid over indulgence,
in such heinous and nefarious gluttony.
His self-inflicted surfeit of sustenance
debilitated and shaped his identity, his image,
his gargantuan and elephantine appearance,
and nauseated and revolted all who gazed
upon his abominable and abhorrent obesity.
To aid the celebration’s overindulgence
of snow and damp, sugar and fat,
serve a cornucopia of felicitous fiber
and its vitamin rush—
whirligig of walnuts and crisp cranberries,
Honeycrisp apples and wild red strawberries,
spring mix sprinkled with balsamic and fig.
Give a fig* about your friendships and figure.
Strap on boots, tread through snow and ice.
Make nice with muscles and joints,
your neighbors.
Share the bounty of your colorful heritage.
Stay in shipshape form as you celebrate.
New Years Eve celebration
Ever so grateful of redemption
With overindulgence of consumption
Year-end celebrating
Edibles I've been craving
Aha so much champagne drinking
Recoup from stomach bloating
Swaying, light-headed teetering
Eek nightcaps of antacid
Verily, not so lucid
Eau de mornings, feeling putrid
For Francine Roberts' contest, "New Years Eve,"
Addicted to somethin’
My thoughts no longer own
A fish tank full of submarines
Swimming schools of piranhas
Waking up soaking wet
Sharks swimming in my sweat
Sleeping on the cold floor
Petrified to close the door
Or open when closed...nightmares
Circling ahead...flocks of aeroplanes
Like vultures to a carcass
Feeding on my burnt ashes
Overindulgence in fantasy
Thoughts amputated from reality
Monotones ringing in my cranium
Press the button to a new continuum
To end this paralyzing paranoia
That feeds my insatiable insomnia
I don't have to be a monk,
tucked away on some far off mountain,
to feel the profound joy
of contemplation.
Nor do I have to be a party animal
to laugh at ridiculous jokes,
during game night
in the company of cherished friends.
Flip me all you want
I will either land on heads or tails.
In any case I'm still a coin
and you can't take that from me.
I am not a frog
for your meticulous dissection.
Prod if you dare, but there's no guarantee
you won't get hit in the eye
because you got too close to some obscure artery.
I am not rock, paper or scissors.
My hand would rather hold a pen
for the weaving of a path,
than stoop to mere imitation.
I admit my eccentricities like to run away with me
but that's okay - I enjoy a good chase
I am pleasing to the eye no doubt
but no - I am not just some pretty face
There will always be one side of me
that outshines all the rest -
like a diamond glinting in the sun.
Nonetheless I like to think my various personalities
resembles a tray of Dunkin' Donuts.
It's physically impossible to just pick one.
Be warned though,
you have to have real stomach
to take me all at once.
Don't you know overindulgence can lead to heart attacks?
And no, I'm not a saint.
When it comes to my downfalls,
even a nerd like me isn't bothered
to roll up my sleeves and do the math.
I am a work in progress,
something you can't sum up in a few words.
It's like the four basic food groups,
to live off only one is just plain absurd.
I am not one nor the other,
but Yin and Yang
- much like an atom,
if you cut me in half
get ready for the bang.
Saint Patrick died on March 17th.
So we celebrate the day with green and drink.
Patrick, was kidnapped to Ireland as a slave,
a condition he never fully forgot or forgave.
Patty (as he was known by his friends)
was a sober, relentless, devout Christian.
As a missionary, he gallivanted methodically, converting heathens
and if he failed to convert you, you weren’t left breathin’.
He could burn you at the steak for ignoring ‘reason’.
To show Christ’s power, he ‘banished’ the snakes,
It’s amazing, the difference a miracle can make.
The year 461 pre-dated laptops and even the Internet,
so, I think it’s time we finally forgive and even forget
the sad, sordid history of Catholic conversion “therapy”
because today we need a reason to drink until we’re green.
.
.
Webster: Gallivant: “travel for pleasure.”
My roommates and I went to Doublin, Ireland last summer.
In casual conversation we asked how they celebrated Saint Patrick's day and their celebrations are like ours, more or less - a secular overindulgence. But on a deeper level, this holiday, they say, is dedicated to the patron saint of heathen genocide.
Dew drops fell on my eyelids,
as I lay upon dampened ground
I sighed and looked heavens up astound,
wishing for the pain to cease
I wiped my brow of all crease
with dismay my mind wonders
If it really is she that is yonder
Against the golden glow
her warm sight comes in a flow
a phantasmal being
that is as yet real
For now I can only dream
and so strong that I can feel
but all is not what it seems
though as much I yearn and dream
I can only lay in sin and shame
discover you will that it was glory and fame
that leads to your dismay
I wake up abrupt and say
A dream so accurate and real
that I could smell perfume and scent
just from a dream
just from a dream
I can feel so cold
after you made me so bold?
My story I recited for all to hear
not full with half a page atear
a watermark of my pain
and the gurgling well you hid within
A wall was built
under the satin quilt
burrow deep inside
you warmed me here there and on all sides
in the night as we cried
each other's tears we gently dried
I awake to see the former image
you adorn it with hackneyed adage
to remember the loss I feel
nevertheless you tingled deep my skin and teal
Even though I saw you weren't real
I knew you were there though ethereal
My life sucks but yet surreal
from dream to wake you have gone from cake to bake
Lost all reality within walls so fake
aha! That icing and flake on which I did take and retake
to feel sick from overindulgence
till the dream soured as much as you had done
for now I take this gun
let me also have one
for in life we shared and in death we part
its time my dream bird that we say adieu and depart.
The Prodigal Son
Why do babies leave home at such a young age? Like premature hatchlings falling from the nest before their wings are even capable of flight, only to succumb to the wildness of nature. They become appetizers to those with a beating stone in the hollow of their chest, a heart that does not bleed. What causes those babes to take that leap of faith into the abyss of the unknown.to walk amongst the undead?
Does my picture read dark and morbid at times? It's only because the journey they travel is so. For most its a chosen departure. There are some who are pushed from the edge of the plank of familiar society. Those who are loved, hated, taken for granted, forgotten and forsaken. Nudged, pushed and even pulled from the comforts of their abode. Some, I'm sure, lost their edge due to the every day mundane lifestyle. None the less they left.
Some become lost into a world of trouble, chained to some addiction or another. Fated to a accident of overindulgence within the hollow of a bush some where near the edge of the populace. Some to lose their self worth, to become old chasing a soup line, to die a lonely death in a back alley frozen solid. Others to spend mortal eternity trapped in a cage counting the cinder blocks and pacing like a show animal, until their last super is served through a slot in a steal door.
Some gifted the mercy of the original prodigal son to return, two maybe three decades later to what some consider a normal life. To clip their wings and don their chains of the blue collar workforce. It is the later for me.
As to why I left home over two decades ago, I was alone in a house full of others no structure or real care. So I lunged from the nest and broke my wing.
by Desi E.Sherman
Subconscious thought periodically drops you into my cotton candy dream world.
The FM dial drizzles my mind with syrupy sweet remnants of the past.
I bite through the chewy nougat of what-could-have-been.
Zinfandel-laced thought processes amplify the rich, chocolatey memories, and morph them into an overindulgence that make my teeth ache.
A need, a craving.
Forgotten are the bitter lies, the lies beneath the lies.
The shattered promises.
The salty tears.
The not-so-decadent degrading words that whisper up my spine.
The surreptitious, wicked little black book with names and numbers written in code.
The rancid smell of your latest addiction on your breath.
Your vitriolic tongue, continuously degrading and reminding me of my faults.
Forgotten... until they are remembered in a moment of natural, unadulterated clarity.
All of the joys
Of chocolate…
Delightful pleasure
of tiny secretions
that excites taste.
Releasing mounds of
Milky darkness…
An assortment of
Overindulgence,
A savory variety of
Irresistible explosions
And heavenly bliss…
Layers of richness
That taunts sensors to
Recall succulent memories
Of indelible guilt,
An insatiable desire
To spawn a gluttonous
Compromise…
Hers is Godiva,
Deep chocolaty inner dream-
Deliciously black coated
Vanilla cream...
When I lay down on my deathbed,
Remember me…remember me forevermore
When I give in to silent slumber,
Don’t grieve for me…
I’m in God’s hand –
A pleasant placement that I adore
When I wake up from this horrifying nightmare,
Dream not…dream not of war or violence
When I try to reach for my goals in life,
Be not afraid of me…I’ll be a success
Be not afraid of thee…He wants you to have progress
Shower me down with empathy and elegance
You sprout splendidly like a flower in the brink of Spring
Tower over me…protect me from
Overindulgence
You don’t doubt –
You are one-of-a-kind and You are a GRAND KING!
When I grow weary and old,
Don’t desert me like a worthless garden full of weeds
Don’t desert me…bury me in the damp soil like seeds
If you do decide to leave me behind,
That would be just rude
When I have high hopes and if I’ll ever be as bold as The Lion,
Don’t take away my strength, my gift, or my gratitude
When I fall asleep on eagle and dove wings,
Don’t worry!
Don’t worry about me!
My heart will take divine flight
When I approach heaven and its radiance
Reigns upon my undying soul,
It brings me love from somewhere quite a delight –
Don’t reject the precious light
The precious light…
You’re a grand king!
You blossom with might and victory
I crown you with
Loyalty, Awesomeness, and Golden Pride