Best Regurgitating Poems
In times of darkness,
When time is like raging seas,
my mum Is the lighthouse,
illuminating the skies,
guiding me to the shore.
There is an art to motherhood.
A paradise on earth,
with blessings of a priceless prayer.
Anyone can give birth,
but not everyone can be a mother,
I have written so many March musings,
simmering scribbles with alliterative metaphors,
but my mamma is the poem of my soul.
When the Devil would trick with his wicked games,
her angelic voice would bring clarity.
Reminding me that twisted thoughts will
only lead to a maze of uncertainty.
Each time death knocked at my door,
Her empathic energy would ease my pain.
Always told me if I didn't appreciate inner beauty;
the red of a rose would kill my soul.
How I'll be forever collecting thorns,
so I planted an abundance of flowers,
in kaleidoscopic colours, ensuring
Spring smells were soothing.
I remember when burdens became too heavy,
swift changes of life brought only sorrow,
grey clouds followed my every move
with black skies full of soulless stars.
There was a spring with deadly roses,
and countless colourless flowers.
I wondered if my heart would bloom this spring.
you were the perfect remedy,
like the mercy of rain upon petals,
who gave warmth after a cold night.
Words lost in a hustle and bustle of silence,
bloomed like lilacs and daffodils,
kissed by the sweetness of morning dew,
as colourful clouds in clementine hues,
greeted the sun in sapphire skies.
I always have regurgitating regrets,
when being strong, I never express enough,
how no woman alive could ever take your place.
In a world where love can be a hallucination,
people lose their affection,
let them change,
but you always stay the same.
Chug-a-lug, Chug-a-lug –
no matter the fly in our
President's mug, the bug in
his thinking...my reflecting on
his ailing brain, and it's obvious
volume shrinking:
Those mindless, confusing rants,
Bidden juices-up; Psaki, drinking
without blinking – regurgitating
at deceptive White House briefings –
propaganda validated by shameless,
would-be reporters, were it not for
their obvious conscription – their
sacrificial genuflecting, having
sold their souls to the Golden Calf
of Soros wealth and tyrannical
influence –
For Progressive compliance – securing
her high place of worship in a Marxist,
Totalitarian Kingdom – Pelosi suggesting
free ice-cream be given to all, in place
of Tried-And-True, Good Old, American
Freedom –
The depth of my intensity is unfathomed and unknown
I mutter a million tongues in a million different tones
Unleashing my mind, I spew prolific poetry
Draw a wedge in your subconscious, like I’m parting the Red Sea.
I can speak into your mirror and distort your reflection
Rebuff the remnants of denial and rejection
I use dictionaries as pillows to absorb the definition
The creations of my mind fluently brought into fruition
Regurgitating rhythmical rhetorical reasoning
Metrically mingled in metaphorical meaning
I launch lyrics like missile’s launch rockets
Targeting your soundness i devour your logic
my thoughts slash deeper than even the third eye can see
Double edged sword, assured to bring you to your knees
Shake your composure like the clashing of clouds
Words once whispered, are now boisterous and loud
Ink embedded with Solomon’s wisdom, David anointed my pen
Possessed with spirits of the most high, stirring within.
I resurrected my resilience and recaptured my breath
These rhymes will live a thousand lives but never die a single death
She is a deep feet
She has beaten to drown many she feeds
Her face is a black green skin
she waves her tail large the size of her teeth
Her hungry is a mystery. kill
Her fangs cold like an adder's venom sting
She is a regurgitating beast
chews her cods slowly
raises her prey up down up again and down then up
the third time and finally
swallows after some days in her deep
she vomit it prey stiff, stilled,
many forgotten souls lie beneath her. deep
The villagers chant songs and wail. deep
Like a hawk she dives prickly
On its prey at a glance sweeps
Like cyclone and steals
At the brink
of her teeth
Another villager
she
drinks
who gone to be with the river. Last man of his clan, last fishermen of his age mate, only surviving son of late chief only to be seen again days on top of her black green skin, stilled eyes pop out white .River Ethiope is a beast She never get filled
7/5/2020
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.
My shadow casts a hollow grave
Waiting for me to sink and bathe
Foreboding worlds that for us were meant
A withering heart forever bent
Swallowing sadness from yesteryear
Regurgitating madness is what I fear
Walking circles in the line of straight
Everlasting memories of poisons ate
Sunshine never kissed my ghostly hole
Brinks of hurt layered take there toll
Fortress of solitude soon complete
For the sins of sorrow do repeat.
March.02.2016 ^WW^
The task commissioned,
the black sand tested,
deemed worthy
of hard use.
A sword-smith's prayer
lifts aloft to the Shinto shrine
requesting his soul be captured
in the mirrored grain
of this, his finest blade.
An earthen furnace raging,
flames licking the entrance.
To smelt, to cleanse,
charcoal carbon to mix,
breathing strength
into raw tamahagane.
Shingane, kawagane,
one brick of each.
feeding the mouth
of a greedy forge.
Regurgitating and melting,
making pliable these.
Leathered craftsman hands
drive out flaws and sparks,
hammering, bending,
meticulously folding
thirty-thousand times.
Tired and spent,
black eyes linger
over the polished steel,
to inspect and examine,
acknowledging a masterpiece.
Now, commission completed,
his motive revealed.
with an unthinkable descent;
momentum for a sickening plunge,
as his own life force
runs red the reflective hada.
Across the great divide
We the people despair
Hearings in Congress
Public hearings
No public allowed
No press allowed
Homeowners, from Pennsylvania
To Texas
Told their drinking water is safe
While flames torch the water
Spewing from their garden hoses
There are no people anymore
Only billions of dollars
Choking our elected officials
There are no people anymore
Only controlled media
Regurgitating approved scripts
From a worldwide vault of lies
There are no people anymore
No
People
Anymore
Down I go.
On the paths of sheol again.
The rewards of death; my hands regain.
The wheels of the plow of righteousness; i forgot to maintain.
Being led into the desert,
I stagger like one under the influence.
All the while blinded by momentary pleasures.
A walk through the arid land with cold lifeless walls as my compass.
*Surely I have lost it*
These words my mind kept a fix on.
Regurgitating it while the devil's counsel slowly seeped in.
A 'sound advice', like Job's wife, the devil gave.
Urging me to totally quit.
A sweet ballad he played into my ears.
Telling me to embrace hedonism as my new religion.
For I would surely fail in living a perfect life.
He gave me examples.
Yes.
*Your righteousness is as s filthy rag before God*
The accuser of the brethren quoted this scripture for me.
I countered.
Reminding him that self righteousness accounted as sin before God.
Telling him of the uptmost essence of the Jesus's death and grace in salvation.
"No one is perfect"
These words the devil said in retort.
Quoting a popular quip which gave leeway for people to sin.
In despair,
I tried to counter.
For my Christian walk was filled with inconsistent up and down moments.
Like a touchlight with a failing battery,
The light of Christ within me flickered.
HE then came back.
Like a sharp clack amidst deep silence,
I heard His words.
That piercing word of life that erupted joyful tears in me.
For I was a washed out version of my former self.
*My grace is sufficient for you.*
*You have an advocate before the father who pleads your case.*
These words Jesus spoke to me in reply to the devil's condemnation.
*Look unto Jesus the author and finisher of your faith...*
This charge He gave me to cleanse me of all adulteration.
*There is therefore now no condemnation to them who are in Christ Jesus*
This fact He quoted to free me from all allegations.
*Seek ye first the kingdom of God and its righteousness...*
These words He gave to guide my future aspirations.
Once more I cling to the cross.
An abandonment of my fling with death.
A willing stone in the sling of Christ Jesus.
Ready to earn new trophies to bring to His feet.
Laying them down as He calls me a king too, being a joint heir with Jesus.
#Bashorun
I had it in me
To throw that
Love
Everything
Regurgitating
Imagine the weight of the air in that house
which in the summer months would strangle you,
wearing heated gloves. Tough luck.
A gulf of emotion that is always a week ahead;
trying to claw back
a sense of permanence
as it lingers in a cold sweat. Windows
crack with discomfort; the place is dead.
All of those whispering memories
that remind me of my crippled crown
an accolade
of atrocities;
dripping with blood that is warm, not red.
Dried it looks a heavy brown, stiff as lead.
Imagine the ricochet of a drunken fist
that snuggles nicely between the nose and lips.
Impact dribbling
down
the spine and slapping the hips. The barrels
of my skull, those holes that whistle in the wind
a sort of lubricated lisp that rests on tears.
A sense of brutal butchery that batters
the borders of belief,
a false economy
to pray that some how, some day and in some
small way this tale will turn. Dismay,
this is not pain. This is not the teething
clamp of a hungry blade, the creasing
curve
through flesh and vein.
This is my reality, or at least it was,
why? because. The luck of the draw, the imploding
exploding, digesting, regurgitating ying and yang
of this universe - the gaunt keeper of humanity.
Sanctimonious,
a symbol of sellotape
that binds me perversely to my past. Manipulative
memories that need to be restrained, filed
with all the crap. A thrill, a subversive
all too serious sensational sense
of seniority,
capped with stark stupidity.
An intoxicated journey that reached an end. Your
choices scarred me; let's not pretend.
Seeing into the eyes of death
A few days ago I saw a commotion
Where bystanders were gathered
Staring at a woman lying on the ground
She was having brain convulsions
Nobody knew what to do or assisted
The mall may have turned out to be her final resting place
I tried. She was regurgitating liquids in her mouth
Drowning. Her face shriveled up, arms clasped
She needed to be turned over on her side
I did. Opening up a passageway to breath
She was unconscious from the onset,
When you see into the eyes of death
Her half opened eyes staring back at you
Beckoning for her angels for life
You still want to help even though
I walked away
Not wanting to know
For two days later I see her young Asian eyes
Beckoning for help
I still do
connie pachecho
1/19/17
It was a righteous hit and the silky smooth euphoric familiar feeling was racing through her veins to her encephalon.
It was an energetic stimulation to her central nervous system.
Her whole body fell back onto the foul-smelling and heavily stained mattress.
Her mind slumped into oblivion.
Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
The last thing she remembers seeing was a vivid shadow.
A shadow of a housefly on the ceiling.
It appeared to be eating something.
Through a purple haze, she wonders about the filthy creature.
In nonsensical supposition, she could feel the beastly fly attack.
Scissoring meticulously against the flesh of her forehead.
Scissoring against the hard connective tissue of her skull.
Systematically and relentlessly thrusting its cutting blades.
Regurgitating its vile acid fluid onto the soft tissue of her cerebrum.
Imaginable pain and reverberation of the piercing sound were consistent.
And then, the morning light faded.
She saw luminous colors of red, yellow, and different shades of blue, like cyan and turquoise.
She felt her body floating around in a large kaleidoscope.
copyright 2016 Torsional Storm
Atonement
Words laden with regrets spilled over profusely
Regurgitating blobs of ancient narcissistic deed
Awaken realization for vanity obfuscates reality
Enchanted by the force of hallucinogenic greed
To gyrations life dances oblivious towards time
Sparks amidst a storm ignites portentous skies
As Earth navigates apathy decimates the clime
Incredulous eyes evokes counsel from the wise
When youth ebbs spider webs embellish a face
Engrained memories from yesteryear reappear
The future herald adversities he must embrace
Bestowed clemency atonement overpower fear
08/21/2018
11:34 p.m.
Aboard "Vision of the Seas"
Cruising toward Mykonos, Greece
healthy,
hale, able-bodied,
exercising, healing, mending
sanitary, hygiene, infirm, illness
puking, regurgitating, dying
afflicted, queasy
sick
Date written: 02/07/2023