Best Rottenness Poems


Premium Member Stygian Doubts-The Catacombs of Saint Francis, Lima, Peru

The rottenness of it all is no less foul for having been bleached white. This is the conclusion I come to. I walk with a scarf covering my mouth through the dimly lit catacombs of the faithful. The arched ceiling holds a dangling string of incandescent bulbs which cast a sickly yellow glow on my shoes and the cavities full of thighbones. “Why are all the bones the same,” I ask. The guide smiles. “Tens of thousands of heaven seekers wish to be buried here. There’s only so much room,” he said. “Even today people pay for holy ground.” Ghostly, armless, rib-less, headless, specters seem to rise un-braced, oh the indignity of it all. I picture them searching for the missing parts of themselves. I sneeze through my paisley scarf, stumble back; back, following the arrows in reverse, seeking the way out; just as frantically as they had sought the way in. The rest of the group trudges on; after all, they had paid their coin to Charon.



First Published in Inwood Indiana January 2014

Premium Member Spell of a Stranger

The sprout of momentary illusion, 
the voyage of a derelict dream in place of a lie,
the lure of April, the deceit of May concertized in December, 
in wintry snow, mocked, 
miscarriages of a well worn organ,
the grin  of February,  
suspended in September,
the burden of unconquered Lust,
the armies of censorial  secret "bedders",
begging for the abandoned  rottenness on my path,   
obsequious frenzy of the hasty oath at Ikoyi, 
the stealthily lure of a defiled bed before the oath, 
the desperation of "a wanna be" by crook,
hurried by the mascara coated looks of a  postponed "dowried hariotery,"
A bedfellow from the red zone, 
an unrepentant  Gomer, 
The armies of bias exes overwhelmed the gaze with suspicions, 
compelling through diurnal and surreptitious escapades in dark corners,
allured by unfinished lust, 
to the city centre for a quickie,
And  myriads of men hides in ambuscade save one, 
with threats of kill  for suspending  their “off home” secret lush 
The public  mistress unfit for their homes, Yet suited for their Lust  by turns 
she warmed our beds they say'
purloined  for your Fall of a few days, 
The bawd roamed unrestrained,
'Don't talk to me'  she says.
Unbridled concupiscence her forte, 
forty plus years in the trade, 
well versed in the art 
The sneaky nights, 
the secret calls, 
the Stygian services, 
and countless gift of libidinous frivolities. 
Yet their victim must remain mute, 
as truly the drama unfolded , 
all appeal rebuffed by arrogance,
as they taunt with permissive perverse Laws
convinced on the first day. 
Converse for four weeks, 
conscripted in one week 
“conbedded” on arrival in same day,
Correction of a fool, 
concluded at the Court. 
Then in retrospect, Delilah  revived.

Insatiable

I implored myself with money and okay,
thought that feasting at the time was no crime,
and as the chyme soothingly rolled in my head's threads,
then in pretense covered that craving with a palm,
that craving very agile and corporeal.

upon my lulling, the asking defied;
i gave it money and honey,
filled up with joy and future employ;
i promised burgers served with kandara,
njugu karanga and bits of cars
yet the desire waxed insatiable!

i gave a good girl to woo,
it looked out the more.
and i got another maid of the style princely;
her bosom decorated with flatness and uniformity,
reaching up to the moonlight in height,
digging deep beneath the heels of fashion,
she walked gracefully like a drunken monk,
the music of buckles and golden rings begged much;
and that's what i added to this creature of ghostly beauty.

then this calling wants a third one! 
it wandered to the ages of history
and excavated childhood dreams,
dripping with rottenness and obsession,
in the life of civilisation i was tormented, 
degrees but tormenting,
good jobs but tormenting!
sooner i resolved to quench the question of "enough?"
and made myself a vocation
to drench the injustice of childhood poverty
with the justice of excellence.

a redeemer of sorts,
the light in the way of a night walker.
many looking from my reverse
see hope under my feet-stool.
i am become the man of going,
and going i do.
behind is troop of people unseen,
jerking forwards, themselves a foothold to obtain.
soon they'll play this game my style,
and it's a vast quiz.

tell me, 
how vast is it?
the sea of desire,
all opportunities begging a piece?
shall i be satiated getting a graduate degree? 
or a postgraduate?
first-class or distinction?
will adorable mistresses and pageants
announce your destination,
oh desire?

i sought, and i'm seeking,
behold nothing satiates.
it's insatiable this life.
Form: Verse


Conscious

I’ll sing you dream songs
that last as long as the hills
but know this my love
it’s fullness IS
the striving of our wills

Against the darkness
that has crept stealthily
into the hearts of man
I cannot describe
this latent longing
to rest mine eyes
upon the faces of my joy
to stay there reticent
upon the turn of your gaze
Soft sentience gathers
like a cloak of gauze
to be not disaffected by
the backs of those who consume
the refuse of worthlessness
and despise excellencies
but prefer the violations of every
virtue , whose villainy
is unconcealed on any level
considered the character
OF MAN
Salacious , drooling compounded
with the Sophistry of sophistication
Supercilious in their vanities
as rottenness to a tree

Nay , but here I seek
a palate for the delicacy
yielding tender fruit
so desirable as it’s fleeting
from a world gone course
that swallows any thoughts
of pursuing a nature
whose potency can be clearly seen

I defy your erosions
corrosion of thought and deeds
whose love is less than
rutting animals
I decry your mogul media
your grand theatrics
I have divorced you
to pursue a finer thought

I’ll pass you on the street
you will have my hello
but don’t expect to drag me
to your peers whose
consciousness is gone
even in the daytime

I will , my time
with the quality , geniality
of thoughts vibrant
of the orchestral heights
and cast your lows
into some other state

COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

Make No Bones About It

Bony bona fide bones bare bones                                                                                 
Skeleton key turning a bone of contention                                                                     
Sticks and stones break bones words do hurt close to the bone                                          
Not so funny hitting funny bone hard words break no bones                                            
Depends who is speaking old school don’t be an idle bonehead                                          
Be like dog with a bone gnawing it till tomorrow                                                                
His word a fire in my bone true to the bone envy is rottenness                                           
To the bone a broken spirit driest the bone don’t be chilled to the bone                         
Pleasant words health to the bone so bones may rejoice                                            
Working fingers to the bone be not wise in thine                                                             
Own sight fear the Lord depart from evil a bone to pick                                                  
Dead man’s chest be not filled with dead men’s bones                                                 
Prophecy to bones dem dem bones come together again                                                  
Look to the cross not to skull and bones crossed bones                                                  
Playing bones Yo ho ho Rome’s smoked filled bottle                                                           
They grind bones to make their bread who Jesus has freed                                             
Don’t point that bonier finger but back in the closet                                                         
Not a bone was broken as he died for our sins                                                                 
Or you may be a bag of bones chilled to the bone                                                        
Being bone dry baring your own sin upon your bones                                                         
He is bone of my bone empty tomb make no bones about it
© John Beam  Create an image from this poem.

Vanity World

VANITY  WORLD

Looking into my very me, I saw crying and dying children  in me.
What is union without children in our nest.
Looking into my future; I saw my future swimming into ocean of sorrows.
Those who lead us; led my future into rottenness,
The braves,  the  learned and the powerful; suddenly locked lip on my pains
Yes, pains that  I may not be call a father or mother;
Who will I call my child?  or who will replicate my blood on earth?
You have your blood  moving around you,
Your  law made me barren;  barrenness  I did not prepared for.
Let the seas roar;  let the wind sad, and let the trees loses sleep.
If we marry  as allowed by your  law, who will call us parents?  

I am  a victim of your law, the law you made after you finished;
Having your kids and  enjoying menopause time.
I am young and full of energy to reproduce;
But cut short.
When I die, who will shoot cannon  at my burial? or
Who will cry for me when  I die?
As I have seen children crying  for their father. 
Whose hand will I place my hand upon ? before my eyes closed.
I think you are good for those who finished having their children.

Yes! They can embrace  your law and drive  your course.
You made  me sick;  when I see children I own not calling me father.
I screamed:  yeah…..,   in the midst of multitudes  who  embraced you;
But, I  flow in tears in  my closest.
The future is weeping, the presence is rejoicing, the past is laughing at us
At our  involvement  with  leader’s evil against   maker of souls. 
Sing  into face children; I refused  to have.  
If my  eyes are closed, who will pray on my  body?
 I love children;  I stay off the law.
Written by: Pastor Omojevwe Emmanuel Brown.


Life Near Death

Fear I have going to the quack, knowing my life is in their hands
The moment I was told to register for a simple snip
In and out in a flash, easy as pie  
To waking up and realizing something is defective
Hearing antibiotics, damaged my blood line 
Only tasting blood, taking it in
Like a vampire
Trying to stay alive, blood bag after bag
For no one felt my tarnish
No one saw my soul, leave this world
Has I sat in my grave and fought threw my spirits
Whispering to my soul
Feeling robbed of life
Putting trust in their hands 
Rottenness reports took my voice
 I put my life in their hands
Until heaven raindrops, touched my body
Bringing me air to breathe, near death 
Taking my life out their grave
Life near death, is no more
No more
Life near death is not my nest
It's my time to rest

Baby Steps

Back drops of life
Tending down rottenness
Picking doors expensive
Voice activated
No intruders
Quiet enfolds 
Inner materials
Grand exits and entrance
Stage manner audience
Mountains back loft
Ski slope catchall
Frontal success 
Filling slates jest
Protruding those jealous

Here's Looking At You Kid

Babylon the great has fallen has fallen....
Woe, unto them that call evil good, and good evil
That place darkness for light, and light, for darkness
Which put bitter as for sweet and sweet for bitter woe
Unto them that are wise in their own eyes, and prudent in
Their own sight ? Woe unto them that are mighty to drink wine
And men of strength to mingle strong drink: which justify the wicked
For reward and take away the righteousness of the righteous from them ?
Therefore as the fire devoureth the stubble, and the flame consumeth the chaff
So their root shall be as rottenness, and, their blossom shall go up as dust: Because....
They have cast away the law of, THE LORD OF HOST, and despised the word of, THE HOLY ONE.
Form:

A To Z

In this remarkable world without reasons
Every word and every thought seem so priceless
Something that can bring belief into you
On the other hand, it can also rip you heart apart

We learn how to verbalize the ideas in our minds
That what we think is often reversed with our heart
In our youth, we learn how to say as of A to Z
Every letter with its own value within

Agony – bereavement – caginess – death  - excitement – failure - hope – generosity – 
insanity – jealousy – knowledge – love - modesty – narcissism – obsession – peacefulness- 
quaintness - rottenness- saintliness – temptations – urbanity – voracious - wisdom - 
xenophobia – yearning and zealous

As you can notice on each word above
It has overflowed inside our minds 
We face those values each day 
These are all emotions that stay in each soul 

Some of us may struggle with reality
They keep on holding on their hopes and dreams
To find a better place to live and heart to loved
To discover what is secured to stay alive

Not so slightly of us living in worry
Searching for a bit of bliss to cover their agony
They will keep on running from reality
From the madness of life and the loneliness of heart

If there is only one hope in this universe
And people are fighting to grab on it
One hope to sterilize our impure hearts
Then my wish is to die in peace
© Mony Reyna  Create an image from this poem.

The Show Maker

With the rise of the sun , my eyes are kissed with the its rays and it's beauty, however , my heart is still heavy. I feel like I am living a lie ...
I really can’t explain the reason why, but I do know, it consumes me inside taking over me...
it’s who I'm  meant to be...

I feel like an actor and this world is my stage ...my job is to make you all smile...
But it's all a facade because, I haven’t laughed in a while...

I don't know my role, but this one has me smiling on the outside and eating me up deep inside...
A wind of pain blowing and roaring ...
Coming and going,  just like the tide, I am tired...
I wish you could see through my smiles, I wish you could smell my rottenness ...
I wish I wasn't so great in your eyes , then maybe you could see beyond this facade ...
Well the deal is that I’m not so real, because deep down I am sad ...
Like any of you i suck at living ...
Either way the show must go on ...
I need to put a spark of me in your hearts...
But the real me, you can never find...
For I’ve never been given my start, one thing i know is to hide...

An actor, a poet and maybe even a friend is how I’m judged when you see me...
But it’s all an act, it’s all just a hoax...
As the real me, I’ve never got to be...
Don’t worry, the show still goes on
For I’m here to keep you entertained ...
like a clown in tears i must smile on ...

I have placed a smile upon my face...
To let all of you know that I’m okay...
But my inside is dry , dry as a wild fruit in the desert sun ...
A reminder that I live in disgrace , embrace this mess ...
Chaos soaked in stress...
At times life is just a mess , a taste of it becomes a curse ...

Despite Their Pocketful of Promises

If you come to my occasion
Maybe birthday or dedication
You'll be to me like a red rag to a bull
Asking for rice knowing the price of a bagful

Our common and daily food
Is becoming an august food
Either our leaders aren't aware
Or they just don't care

This continuous bulging in the price of rice
Coming from a government thought will be super-nice
Is nothing but a rape of hope
Pushing the masses to where they'll never be able to cope

With the lamentation of those who market rice in bagful(s)
And the masses that don't have their pocketful
We don't need a teacher to tell us that the situation has become rotten
Yet they want to make the rotten situation golden

Those who failed to achieve their pocketful of promises
See this rottenness as golden to make many more promises
Our situation is either feast or famine
Which we all need to examine

The rapes and the ravages are too many
that make us pickle
While the precautions are too little that make us tingle
In their timetable they've made it turn by turn
It's left for us to learn or continue to yearn
Form: Rhyme

Desire Death Doth the Weak

Desire death do those with weakness, 
    For present circumstances. 
To climb the face of life is meekness: 
    Behold all of God’s chances. 

With calloused hands in deep gray nooks, it’s meek to climb. 
     To rest is one step next to death,
       Not rest from work, but rest to dwell  
        In furlongs of failures, for faith is forgiven. 
     Because these burdens bring expectations 
No earthly man nor woman could fell. 

 So, lest the hungry rocks below be fed, 
Grapple north! Nerve lazy ligaments! 
   Long not nervous eyes on bottom bed, 
Gripping vocal chords cry loud instruments! 

   Like the slimy kinds of wriggling worm 
  Is rottenness inside our being, 
Oh, I am most aware. 
   Bite lying tongues and spring new form
  By blood (the Spirits bringing)
‘Fore Heaven’s royal chair. 

He purposed you to not dwell and fall
 And spite His gift He gives for all, 
Nor long loathe innard selfish stall
 That kills again all-died-for men.
Hoist those bones and pray- amen.

Premium Member Boundless Devotion

From water to soil, we continued. 
All that I've at any spot known has been rottenness. 
I can hear myself awakening close to the water spewed.
Each component of this second was essential to my awareness. 

I needed to create this experience a piece of my life. 
For quite a long time, I've envisioned myself as auld and dim. 
My grandma's fondness, my youngster's delight, and strife.
I was drenched in your and my spirits joining time. 

Among your and my bodies is a knot of all-out satisfaction. 
We softened into one another in exotic yearning. 
The sort of affection doesn't last in this section.
My head is overpowered with thoughts churning.

I realize every one of the firearms utilized before it was on me. 
So I put my protective layer on and opened the fortitude entryway. 
Fantasy dreams can infrequently solve as standard keys.
Some vaporous lines have been harmed away.

Then, at that point, I understand I'm speechless. 
I feel as though I'm suffocating in my consideration. 
I felt perplexed in the maze, reachless.
Because each untruth is made up of many assumptions. 

There's most likely a channel plug. 
Do you wish to be covered? Disintegration 
I don't grasp whether this is a clean or a fatal drug 
However, I trust tomorrow will be a day of action.

I can set to the side my feelings of dread. 
It assumed responsibility for my apprehension and ambiguity. 
A steel-clad article of clothing that encloses me as dead. 
Carry me truly close to my thoughts and congruity.

Yet, it is the subtleties that we ignore. 
This is the fundamental thing to me. 
Furthermore, I need everything to explore. 
Breathing stops for a short period under a tree.



Written: July 19, 2021
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member A Salute To Our Pastor's Wife

God be praised for our Pastor’s wife
Virtuous woman* exuded by her countenance
Paragon of spiritual lady’s blest fullness indeed
Fulfilling roles with feminine elegance
Graciously living according to Bible creed
Meeting her family's maternal need.

The Lord be thanked for our Pastor’s wife
Possessing faith of steward with servant-heart qualities
Steadfast as a loving mentor of godly influence
Caring teacher and discipler marked by truth-verities
Diligent homemaker as well as prudent* spouse in her reigning prevalence
Midst her mother and grandmother's joyously cheering presence.

Dear Ma'am Dhel,
Blessed birthday to you. We thank God for your life. You are a blessing to us.

*Proverbs 12:4 - A virtuous woman is a crown to her husband: but she that maketh ashamed is as rottenness in his bones. Proverbs 19:14 - ... a prudent wife is from the LORD.

September 27, 2023
Form: Ode

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