Best Residuals Poems
Naiveté wraps the child
until the chills slowly
begin to snuggle in,
smothering the illusions leaving
the residuals of sickness
and disappointment
that is man.
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Contest: Fallen
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Entrant: Rob Carmack
Written: 11.29.15
Word Count: 25
My person was the entire human race. As a child, I viewed adults as ethically advanced and emotionally stable. Thought of world as an Utopia – the best trip I ever had. From this disappointment, I was given the contrast to appreciate forgiveness and those I found that are advanced.
Annotated Achilles amends fallen frame amputees
Bulimic Barbies browse media monkey banalities
Cameo clouds cling to beaded breath curios
Dopamine dreams delineate check cash desires
Echo endophfins eulogize bullet brain excrement
Fecal folly fantasies reveal relevant frivolities
Gonadal grownups gulp secret scrotal generosities
Helical hemorrhoids hinder senior stricken hemocraps
Idiotic ideals idioiosyncrate postpartum iconoclasts
Jack Jill juxtapositories seek sexestential jouveniers
Kryptic killer kisses ascot arrogant kingdumbs
Liquid lipid loiners fear frontline lucklullibies
Malevolent mommies masterbate rich reflective mommocules
Nevertheless nightingales nourish ruby rich noonbeams
Ovulatory occults outsource torrent tofu outrages
Pensive pisces picnics lovelorny passions
***** quiet quintensials release rancid quotients
Rape ripe residuals nullify nimble repercussions
Silky seafoam silhouettes fornicate frothy sandlets
Tepid torch trilogies belie belligerent tourniquets
Useless utterances utilize organize orgasmic utopias
Venomous vixens violate cruel.com visions
White willow wombs softly seed hospice hell winds
XX XY xfactors envision extracurricular xraydoms
Yearning yoyo yesterdays calculate clearcovert yields
Zen zealous zions mirror magnify Zoneotones
Allow me a moment to deconstruct,,
Every wall characteristically set up.
And all the fabricated stories from corrupt
Individuals; Residuals of a past,
I broke through and shattered like sugar-glass.
Let me tell you; I'm not invincible.
My personality is not intrinsical.
My body nor mind isn't irresistible.
Sometimes my heart and my head cosmically clash,
Emotion covers my face like a rash.
I'm a disastrously lousy liar;
I can't hold piss for pounds if its worth a few pence.
In debates I can never just "sit on the fence",
I need to say my bit no matter how intense
The opposite argument may make sense.
I like to drink like most twenty year olds,
Though sometimes I drink more than my emotions hold,
And sometimes I let those emotions slip in tears
And open my heart to all my sorrows and fears.
But god forbid I should have a pained heart.
God forbid I should live a life of youth,
And drink from it all the human traits of life's juice.
When happiness and suffering go hand in hand
I still bleed love and loyalty from every gland...
...Because I believed in those sacred fruits.
Well just because I build a barricade,
And paint on a brave face to replace my true self
Don't categorically place me on that shelf;
Among alcoholics, arrogant clowns and thieves,
Who handed you the gavel to judge me?
Though all of this stuff may file under "Me",
Don't think I wouldn't move sun and earth, part the sea,
To bring to you what you hold dearest of the dear.
That I wouldn't hunt through fire-filled chasms, your fears.
Because, what is love without a few tears?
Atmospheres of the weary tears that flow through the river Styx
Bonded by the watchful eye for Hades is in the molten mix
Cerberus is in his bliss as he watch’s the grotesque gates of hell
Death becomes as it nocturnally numbs the souls underneath its spell
Eurynomos watching rotting corpse’s aromas of the dying dead
Ferryman extends his hand, Charon’s purse must be faithfully fed
Grimly graves in massive waves of victims frivolously falling in
Hell awaits with open gates as the pandemonium does begin
Ignominious retreat for those that would repeat many lifetimes
Jagged rivers edge for those who would wedge their cunning crimes
Kabbalistic rituals leave their residuals as the underworld is overflowing
Lachrymal souls never reach their goals even in their constant crowing
Many do make it as the rest can’t shake it, to outrun the rivers grasp
Necromantic wizards cross the rivers to help undo the candescent clasp
Odysseus in his cunning shall be stunning the querulous Queen as he planned
Persephone in her majesty rigidly rules the underworld by candid command.
In Greek Mythology...a river that forms the boundary between Earth and the Underworld (the domain often called Hades, which also is the name of its ruler)
Cerberus...often called the "hound of Hades", is a monstrous multi-headed dog, who guards the gates of the underworld, preventing the dead.
Eurynomos...was the netherworld daimon (spirit) of rotting corpses dwelling in the Underworld.
Charon...is the ferryman of Hades who carries souls of the newly deceased across the rivers Styx...for a price(coins)
Odysseus...hero of Homer's epic poem the Odyssey...was a frequent visitor.
Persephone...was the daughter of Zeus and Demeter, and the queen of the underworld. She was abducted by Hades.
Sept.03.2016
Alphabet Soup - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Merryman
I could write about the white man and everything he’s done
or I could write about the black man
and all the victories he’s won
I could write about a person of every stereotype
but thats just a hype
and judgings not right
I could write about racism
and all the civil wars
or I could write about a place where hate is no more
I could write about a place where all individuals
are not solely based on ancestral residuals
No more colors, races, or creeds,
Just helping our neighbors with everything they need
This is the Dream that Dr. King had,
To stop looking at skin color,
would that be so bad,
I could write about how things will always stay the same,
or I could write to make a difference,
And be the one to start the Change
So, so lyrical,
yet logical,
it's certainly atypical;
and not proverbial,
but integral
and oh, most controversial!
But is it topical,
optical,
even for the intellectual
to see the actual
pragmatical
to its theoretical?
So casual, gradual,
and implausible,
it’s almost incomprehensible
were it not for the owner’s manual.
It, too, appears eternal,—
not temporal.
Never mind paradoxical.
Damn! it’s infernal...
Alas, it'll be too “illogical”
for the head magisterial,
whose financial
committee might find it problematical.
Still, the crux is perennial:
it’s too pivotal
to not state the irrefutable
with extra audible mega-decibels
if the funding residuals
for scientific experimentals
like the quantum mechanical
are incommensurable,
which is thus deplorable,
intolerable, insufferable,
disagreeable, horrible,
and most unsupportable
(in my view as a professional)!
Stand there tall beautiful orchard
Your green
shine to dilate my visions
I have seen you wilt at your worst
And I have seen you ride the tide to flourish
O flourish. Wet my tongue in season
And bank my life's residuals
I share you with the ones that rent a nest
The ones that mourn the day and fly the
night.
I will never know any more invisible hands
There are the ones that steal a gallon of
seeds
There are birds that feeds on your fruits'
juices
Then the ground that hugs you in
complements
Little Orchard lay a busket on my doorsteps
For I had closely nurtured and nursed your
buds
Feed my spirit for in you I have self
fulfilment
In you I am proud to watch and whine
with the guests,
'beautiful orchard it is'.
"Red Hearts"
In black and white,
openings
and dead ends abound;
Words read.
Hearts read.
What matter the colours
of skin and minds now?
The best of us
sat in hell.
Take consolation in that -
He made His way out,
for us, for Himself.
A Poet-Prophet - no doubt,
lessons in complexity,
embedded deep,
forgotten by most of such belief.
Isolated and removed, we try hard,
we try our best to follow
like hungry sheep.
You’re in good company now.
Aren’t you?
You’re in good company now?
The best of us
has sat in hell,
He,
made His way out.
We look inward daily
at our self-imposed rituals,
each word hung on a line -
dissolving into a wall, we're just residuals.
Our reflections mirrored in the all-seeing power,
the paler shadows cast outward
from our removed selves, where –
Love casts its spells.
Love will always cast its spells.
Blind eyes turn away,
laughing it all out loud
like simple jokes needing to be expelled.
Blind eyes turn away.
What is past is forgotten here,
in the mostly untarnished always.
Hearts hearing truth
will tell it as it is –
always.
Without hesitation, without doubt,
they cast their spells out loud.
Their words speak truth, bleeding,
swimming like salmon upstream,
just as they are –
alone, unclouded, would-be poets
with muddled hearts up in the clouds,
watching for their Shining North Star
amongst all the falling stars.
We look inward, some of us,
for the meaning of who we truly are.
It seems so close, yet removed, so far;
We make our way out,
in the end, somehow.
Words read.
Hearts read.
Love
has the strongest power,
somehow.
Love
is what is needed most.
When delivered without proof –
unconditional,
Love will always save us.
This could hurt…
pierced hearts are read here,
bleeding strong power.
Candide Diderot. ‘26
innovation? that's easy
take a genenorater attatach it to a rope
connected to a down hill skier
and let him go through a planed down hill slope
and that's energy.
repete over and over again for a substancial amount of energy
for the winter months. contact me for the residuals.
Had to move back to the city
the suburbans too sidity
had me and my feelings and I couldn't even feel it
Got hit with a brick and didn't fidget
Hard knocks knock sense in ya or knock ya senseless
My strength is
within
Mysterious and mystic
Superior submissive-ness
A Derivative
of the state of delirium
We need to be delivered from
Ancestral residuals
Leave us descendants
Either scared are relentless
Getting back to it
I had too move
Out the way
to get back too it
Turn my back to it
Go back through it
But do it
To detach delusion
midsummer midnightand sweet dreams
orchestra of crickets
a steady snore
blades spinning overhead
moon tapping the blinds
midsummer midnight
eyes darting back & forth
between fantasias
and goosebumps, nebulosity
between reality
and surrealism
midsummer midnight
the court of inside & out
each one, unknown
to the other - a cup of joe
extracts the residuals
fog lifts with cream and a pour
Eyes shift left and right filling,
With every one in a million,
Or should I say one in a billion?
Willing to believe in the odds,
That each of us were born with a purpose from God,
To be unique and one of a kind,
One spinning fantasy built on a fallacy,
That we are all individuals,
When we’re really residuals of line,
Stretching longer and stronger as time passes by,
As depressing as it sounds,
I’ve hit the ground,
Slam.
Open my eyes shifting left and right filling,
With one in a million or should I say a billion?
Maybe she’s willing to deliver me from rock bottom,
Throw me a rope for all is forgotten,
I see a sliver of hope in your smile.
Amidst the Barbaric heathen hordes
Mordacious majesty’s scrofulous swords
Corroding cathedrals in the morning mist
Rampageous residuals that we must resist
In the valleys of darkness, my soul savors still
For the bloodstained moon begins her spill
The ruffled red rains down upon the tombstones
As the Kings and Queens sit upon their thrones
The lecherous Lords satisfyingly seduce
The mawkish women that are on the loose
Marauding minstrels that strangle the streets
In the valley of shadows where the darkness meets.
May.12.2017
MAYTIME PREMIER CONTEST -any theme any form max of 25 lines...
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Spiritualist -Signs of Souls
Fragmenting eyes of sorrow of baneful tears that demons burrow
Stealing Cupids arrow and the elusive songs of the morning sparrow
Encroaching black mass revels jubilantly to break the mirror's glass
Within the barbarous brass lies dormant their venomous ghostly gas
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Dancing amidst rambunctious rituals flaunting their hadal habituals
Illusions entrap the spirituals decapitating souls leaving no residuals
Satan’s lies are beastly born to rip your flesh with a torquing torn
Cathedrals crumble in his scorn with pandemonium’s yet to mourn
+++
Cadavers climaxing high as armies of darkness sedate the secular sky
The lost begin their cry upon ravaging ruins where their death does lie
Dormant dreams of deep thus awake within a wary wounding weep
Abortive ashes silently sweep over tombs where the Pharaohs sleep
+++
I walk in solitude above my gated grave a phantom who cannot crave
Thus abandoned within my cave where demons dine and will enslave
Evil does efficiently exist when God is put aside within heavens mist
Ask my heart that is in a twist for all the love that has been dismissed.
...MP3 music by Draconian~'Heavy Lies the Crown'
Sept.26.2018
Ghosthunters and Spiritualists
Sponsored by: Kevin Shaw
Placed 4'th
Laverne and Shirley
their fame in the main had come early
retiring at twenty
they had thought their residuals would have been plenty.