Best Repelled Poems
Escape
Introducing: Carl Fraser & Poet Destroyer
Oh Paint me a far away horizon
Across a tranquil azure sea,
Where sits a peaceful deserted island
Where no one lives but me
Free from prying eyes and greedy lies
Free from scars that never heal
Let me be free to just be me
Instead of someone who isn't real
To live out my days giving thanks and praise
To my creator in heaven above
And leave behind the noise of worldly toys
And just bask daily in his love
To be stripped of pain by the spirits rain
And washed until my robes are clean
For I've had enough of my fellowman's company
And I'm disgusted by what I've seen
So I will step into my painted horizon
Framed in a forever state of bliss
And I turn back only for a fading glimpse
As I blow the world a farewell kiss.
Laced by the seas we see, you beg for a life so far
Far from all I've dreamed of, tranquil and spirit rain
A once false painted paradise,
Bliss, a farewell kiss, drowned by old heartache
Not knowing where it's coming from
Yesterday, I woke up to a new skyline,
The horizon, formed by your eyes,
Across a tranquil azure sea
Far from all existing companies, you stood
In front of the ocean - your ocean!
Sailing on the calm side of the turquoise sea
Stripping back into the innocence you once were
A gentleman, caressing the oats in a peaceful state
The moon breaking your once trusted mind
The silence of heaven heals every scar inside
Redemption is a secret we beg for
It was always you, someone lost, misguided by love
Somebody, I once dreamt of, A dream lost out at sea
Calling out for me --- you chose to pray alone
Repelled by the world so cold, yet here I stand
Alone, on the other side of the farewell kiss
For you, I paint a faraway horizon of bliss, my friend
Waiting -Dreaming -Escaping --- In another lifetime
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Sometimes, in uncertain outcomes, as life agitates,
It can sway either way, maneuvering on the edge,
For a difference rather modest, makes the final call,
When a narrow margin determines a win or a loss.
If a win we choose to celebrate, or defeat we deride,
Prudent to bear in mind, that it wasn’t a landslide;
When results are so close, why not cheer them all,
Cognizant to recognize~ distinction is awfully small.
Slender is the layer between eve’s dusk and twilight,
Between dark of dawn, and luminance of sunrise;
Between safe and danger, there lies a narrow divide,
Where, between cliff and fall, life’s border resides.
Mementos of love embraced, and love sadly repelled,
In albums of beloved, or memories forlorn dwell,
Clamoring from corridors of good or bad choices made,
Between narrow margins of hope, and contours of fate.
O, a narrow margin can be of mighty consequence
Inhabiting elation of success, or anguish of regrets,
When death lingers in the clutches of final moments
Stilled between breath inhaled, and breath exhaled.
Between paper-soft
worlds of fragile
imaginations,
I float upon those
gossamer tulips
that split every
second of saccharine
musings and
eclipsed confessions,
distinguishing all
photoelectric synonyms
of lachrymose
stimuli towards
glassy manipulations
of blood-fragranced sun.
Everything that is
sown in sweetened
textures of afterglow-soil,
always blossoms upon
decayed fossils of
frivolous fates, as
balanced bullets have
forever pierced
through the pulpy
sheaths of nature's
rainbow-blankets,
but their aged roots
always adorn nourishing
gemstones of
ephemeral healing,
to spread their wise
branches across earth's
mirrors, as the thin
veil disappears.
What is the raven-spade
-hearted impulse
without its nascent yet
succulently flowing
snow-white mist?
What if, reality speaks
of those skies smitten with
hypnotic illusions of
chess-shaped horizons?
Have yin and yang ever
repelled each other's
rusty-maroon notes
that they whisper in
immortal prelude?
We have remained
skillfully blindfolded to
the isles of inceptions,
swirling amidst ripples
of diamond-kismet
estuaries, washing away
consciences with
diplomatic dewdrops
of frosty maple fog.
Tending to forget that,
we are mere syzygy knights,
crawling along
slanting seesaws as
bioluminescent bishops.
Our schizophrenic
threads have been
tied to the aroma of
poisoned satin within
these final alphabets of
enchante´ epitaphs,
where life will be
the last organ grinder
of karma, playing
an evanescent checkmate
which shall ascend
every soulful spirit
beyond Persephone's
penumbral embrace.
The congregation eyed him skeptically
Long hair, a beard and sandals on his feet
Beyond his exterior they’d not see
This rambler had just come in from the street
He blessed himself with the sign of the cross
And joined fully in each hymn that was sung
It was soon apparent it was their loss
When he greeted God with a gentle tongue
“Lord, You sent Your Son to roam on this earth
His hair was long and to some seemed unkempt
And when He preached, insults were often hurled
But He was not repelled by their contempt
“And so, Lord, I seek forgiveness for these
Who cannot see beyond the clothes I wear
I’ll not be put down by those I displease
I ask for forgiveness, make them aware
“That Your Son sported sandals and a beard
I ask You judge them not as they judge me”
When the mass ended, the man disappeared
At heaven’s gate his name’s on the marquis
Some of the congregation dwell below
But the homeless man now sits by God’s side
For he had chosen love’s path to follow
Appearances he did never deride
*For Jared's "At First Glance" Contest
In eighteen seventy nine; twenty second of January
Was the day of a great battle and for the Zulus victory
At Isandlwana the Zulu army showed no fear
Against British guns, armed with shield and spear.
Twelve thousand warriors from the Zulu nation
Wiped out the British, a total annihilation
With such a large force the camp was soon overun
With hand to hand combat, under African sun.
Nearly a thousand British soldiers died that day
A few played dead and managed to get away
Some headed for Rorkes Drift never looking back
Warning the soldiers there of an impending attack.
Not far from the battle stood the mission station
By the Buffalo river a tranquil location
Five thousand warriors marched on Rorkes Drift
A hundred and thirty nine stood ready to resist.
Dispite wave after wave the British repelled their attack
With rifle and bayonet; they pushed the Zulus back
The Zulus regrouped and moved in for the kill
An officer gave the command to fire at will .
The battlefield was covered with the bodies of the slain
With spears, shields and blood all over the terrain
It wasn't until the morning of the following day
That the Zulus retreated and went on their way.
Eleven Victoria crosses were won at Rorkes drift
For courage and bravery; shown in that conflict
Five hundred Zulu warriors paid the ultimate cost
Whilst seventeen British soldiers in battle were lost.
Against overwhelming odds the British held the line
And Rorkes Drift today is a museum and a shrine
Tour guides at the site will tell you the story
Of those brave British soldiers and their hour of glory.
(The Victoria Cross or VC is the highest and most prestigious award given
to members of the British armed forces for valour in the face of the enemy.)
Come with me my Brother,
to a secret place where Light and Shadow line the face with fear and grace,
leave sophmoric style, wry smile and sly bile on the road of your forgotten mile,
sick sarcasm is the symptom of envy, a pet to your heart destroyer,
such artifice and malice have no language in this room of roasted dreams,
Enter through the damaged door, touch the destruction of vandals,
you have never been here before, where gold blood cuts the floor,
do you see how the walls move like squalls at our approach,
feel how they tell stories with the sensations of defeat, anxiety, impropriety,
in here we witness a collection of seperate yet synthesized segments of Self,
childhood torment, shallow manhood, virility limp as stolen victory,
underachievement, the underbelly of your arrogance, flacid like placid passion,
We journey further into this gallery of emotional gallows
smelt by the hurt of innumerable adavances
repelled by the demands of Quality,
you will writhe wildly
from the harrowing healing leeching into your concepts of self control,
graceful in absorbtion of Truth's attrition,
fruitless ambition shall now cling as cleaving contrition,
your face Brother, look long into the shimmer of sorrow become the old,
tattooed you are like a snake's skin checkered and beautiful
with scaled episodes of submission and aggression, dying to be Divine,
I want you to know that there is no exit of ease from this place Brother,
we trek within your very Soul,
this is the home and harbor of everything you've decided to be,
there are other rooms here, some of joy and some of strife,
but you leave not the Truth Room of your anger
until the Light finds no fault in your intention -
J.A.B.
From the beginning, people have asked themselves,
how God came into being or how God creates from nothing?
The God seekers are advancing ethical axioms
and truth is withstanding the test of experience.
Human mind is made out for reason and truth.
Reason gives us freedom
and freedom makes a human being a moral subject.
The man is a moral being and justice is greater than love.
We don’t know, why protons in the core of atom
are attracted and not repelled
even though, they have the same electrical charge?
What decides that a cell becomes animal or a plant cell?
Every leaf has many cells and each is more complicated
than a human made rocket.
Why stars, Earth and other planets are weightless in space
and what force makes universe to expand?
Expanding universe is astounding.
Space is stretching and does not collapse.
Why Dolphins live in water for millions of years,
even though they do not have gills
and cannot breath oxygen from water?
Nature adapts and man forms himself.
Animals lack our understanding,
but we cannot compare to incorporeal beings
for they are much more advanced than we.
There is more to reality than just phenomenal.
Science interprets things in terms of our experience,
and consciousness is essential to knowledge.
Real world is self contained, independent,
derived from pure consciousness.
Man gets corrupted by the power he has,
but God is almighty and holy indeed.
"Woe to the shepherds who mislead and scatter
the flock of my pasture..."
The king cannot substitute for apostolic succession.
God revealed himself to mankind
and this encounter of God is our experience.
The wholeness of being demands eternity,
otherwise, the being is fractional.
Lord God dwells in unapproachable light
and can deify people and angels and make them Gods,
but only if they are holy first.
A cold lion roams, doctrinaire and sterile,
The expanse of Africa offers him no sanctuary, the Saringehti no salvation,
He can only smell the scent of his pride now, his cubs shun him,
Repelled by needless roars, the revolting rants,
Tail tattered, biten by jackels at will,
His nose bit and beaten from battles better avoided,
Soul tethered to a label, only a title, "King of the Jungle" ,
Fleas and insects of all sorts find haven in his muddy mane
once so puffed and wide like a thunderhead trampling over Tanzania,
I hear him in the twilight, lonely, unsated and undesired,
Paranoid about a life that does not seem to love him,
His heart became a desserted Athens, a broken, rigid column slumped on the earth,
He wanders near the Nile, nearsighted and nervous
As an Egyptian boy of ancient lineage stalks him sensitively
Putting the speartip to own temple saying,
I see your ribs, your broken paws, your futility,
I will now deliver your soul unto the cool night,
The spear is launched with a certain bloodlust
piercing behind the shoulder blade, his heart hollers
with the cry of scarred suprise, the lion stumbles and pants
vanity not allowing blame for lack of vigilance,
the boy trots to the spot, kneels in token reverence
telling him, sip the black puddle of your error, as eyes fold ever shallow,
let me feed you these apples of arrogance
so to quiet your grievence, to sooth your ego before final sight,
there is no shame in being slain by a Pharoah King, old lion,
I shall wear your teeth as a timeless trophy of tragedy,
Emblematical of Pride gone on too long,
may the spirit of Herodetous teach this lesson to a new breed -
J.A.B.
I cry when I think of the loves lost,
Embraces missed, hands not held;
While I encased my heart in frost,
Whither nice young men repelled.
The fresh boy who remembered,
Me from our old primary school;
I wish now I had surrendered,
And not dismissed him as a fool…
The teen who wanted to take me,
To the final-night feast at camp,
He was vastly too short you see,
Although a very lovable scamp!
The classmate who collected essays,
For me from the marking pile -
And lingered to give me praise;
Wish I asked him to stop a while.
The earnest young student who waited,
To talk after Friday social-tea,
He is one I ought to have dated;
But I thought him too pious for me.
Taller, smarter, or just plain weird,
I saved myself for him who loved not;
Leaving the sweet boys who appeared,
To find other girls to tie the knot.
When I grew wiser I knew to miss,
The fine menfolk I had passed by,
Lost many opportunities for a kiss,
As I had a crush on the wrong guy.
11/5/2017
Carl Fraser
Oh Paint me a far away horizon
Across a tranquil azure sea,
Where sits a peaceful deserted island
Where no one lives but me
Free from prying eyes and greedy lies
Free from scars that never heal
Let me be free to just be me
Instead of someone who isn't real
To live out my days giving thanks and praise
To my creator in heaven above
And leave behind the noise of worldly toys
And just bask daily in his love
To be stripped of pain by the spirits rain
And washed until my robes are clean
For Ive had enough of my fellowman's company
And im disgusted by what Ive seen
So I will step into my painted horizon
Framed in a forever state of bliss
And I turn back only for a fading glimpse
As I blow the world a farewell kiss.
Laced by the seas we see, you beg for a life so far
Far from all I've dreamed of, tranquil and spirit rain
A once false painted paradise,
Bliss, a farewell kiss, drowned the old heartache
Not knowing where it's coming from
Yesterday, I woke up to a new skyline,
A horizon, formed by your eyes,
Across a tranquil azure sea
Far from all existing companies, you stood
In front of the ocean - your ocean!
Sailing on every calm side of the turquoise sea
Stripping back into the innocence you once were
A gentleman, caressing the oats in a peaceful state
The moon breaking your once trusted mind
The silence of heaven, healing every scar inside
Redemption is a secret we all beg for
It was always you, someone lost, misguided by love
Somebody, I once dreamed of. A dream lost out at sea
Calling out for me --- you chose to pray alone
Repelled by the world so cold, yet here I stand
Alone, on the other side of that farewell kiss
For you, I paint a faraway horizon of bliss (my friend)
Waiting and dreaming about you, In another lifetime
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Smiling recollections,
summer evening reflections, now
almost gone for new generations
while my venues of childhood musings
and adolescent anticipations
...near extinction.
I must concede my willingness to share
what they will never recall
- the exhilaration
when Dad would pronounce,
"We're going to the drive-in tonight".
A creature double feature,
"The Blob" and "I Was a Teenage Werewolf",
both Feep worthy presentations,
fantasmically speaking.
The impatience for dusk was matched
with the rush of a 10 minute intermission
and, while spotlights played on the
darkened screen, cardboard pizza,
Buttercup popcorn, hockey puck hamburgers,
soggy steamed dogs, and french fries,
were greedily consumed for more
than the price of admission.
Hood ice cream cups with flat wood spoons
for dessert, then back with only
one minute 'til SHOWTIME to the
mosquito safe car where "Pic" coils
repelled the infestation while smoldering
on the glove box door - mesothelioma be damned!
Then, if we didn't escape with an
early exit dash, were caught
in the dust and chaos of the only
late night traffic jam in town.
And...years later, those teenage
trysts, without permission - I'll never tell
what movie?
But, always remember "Gourmet Confessions"!
The hours grows late and so the night bodes ill,
Another man falls, he did drink his fill.
And what fate do the streets take,
When the night cracks with a dawn break?
The rotten and unwanted fate,
Resented and repelled too late.
When the breath of man became disgrace,
Habitual of a hollow, heathen race.
And the cumbersome unrest of drunken sleep,
With a final sigh the streets does sweep.
Here unbidden wretches mark out their day,
In this sorry place they waste away.
As the city shifts focus from watchful eyes,
Concealing its dirt beneath painted lies.
Without a sound each night exhumed,
Then ritual veneer polished and re-assumed.
I'm a man apart, repelled by the norm
Got my own path I chose to walk in
My eyes see things on a different wavelength,
my ears are attuned to another frequency
Never thought twice about the separation,
or the price of breaking free from the swarm
Always was comfortable in my own skin,
giving my all requires more than a tenth
Had a destiny to only live in ubiquity,
was told that seeking wisdom was the correlation
I've traveled through life's cosmic storm,
battened the hatches to my soul within
I'm on a mission, don't need to be convinced
Always knew deep down this was how it had to be
Running with the crowd, didn't have that inclination
I'm a man apart, never given to conform
I feel this poem has no existing form. If I am wrong, tell me what form it is. I wish to categorize it as "Step Rhyme" or "Rotating Rhyme." Each verse from the second line of the second stanza steps down. First line from the first stanza rhymes w/the second line of the second stanza. Second line of the first stanza rhymes w/the third line of the second stanza. Etc, etc. The last line of the final stanza rhymes w/the first line of the first stanza. Romantic Warrior
When silent tears of her aching heart fall
Cry of the lonely night is seldom heard
Muffling her sound against a callous wall
Facing choice stark in dread of fate’s call
Alone she bemoans of dreams deferred
When silent tears of her aching heart fall
Enduring deep pain her emotions squall
Concealing the blows of bashing incurred
Muffling her sound against a callous wall
Sensing signs of impending harm, fears befall
As bawl of her laments remains unheard
When silent tears of her aching heart fall
Her stone-cold beats in servitude thrall
From passions parched and love interred
Muffling her sound against a callous wall
Shattered tones of her heartbeats appall
Repelled by futility of the vows conferred
When silent tears of her aching heart fall
Muffling her sound against a callous wall
January 19, 2020
HM: Strand choice 10 contest by Brian Strand
In the deepest, darkest, dankest depths,
the creatures plan and hedge their bets,
they ponder just how bad we'll get,
and smoke their foreign cigarettes.
Concentrating on the Middle East,
they've hatched and raised a hateful beast,
and guaranteed they'll be no peace,
so war and suffering will not cease.
In Africa their foothold's firm,
so many die from spreading germs,
they love to watch the infants squirm,
their bloated flesh the food for worms.
Their goal is to destroy mankind,
plant seeds of hatred in our minds,
their pact with Satan's sealed and signed,
in blood upon the dotted line.
The rain forest is their target, too,
cage all the creatures in a zoo,
cut down the trees and plant no new,
and watch the greenhouse gasses spew.
Make sure the seas are full of trash,
and oil spills as hulls are gashed,
they want to see our hopes be dashed,
the dice are thrown, the die is cast.
They sit and chew on monkey bones,
and laugh as storms destroy our homes,
in league with trolls and hunchbacked gnomes,
they breed in secret catacombs.
The darkness glides on silent wings,
and is repelled by just one thing:
the song of prayer our hearts sing,
with love we can defeat this thing.