Best Sickens Poems


Prayers From Within

17.	PRAYER FROM WITHIN
Touch my heart where it hurts,
Heal all my emotional wounds and cuts.
Grease my heart with ointment of joy
So potent that no circumstance can destroy.

Touch my soul where it sickens
And my heart where it weakens.
Help me fulfill my purpose in life
And be my power over worldly strife.

Touch my heart where it deadens
And cause me to glorify the Heavens.
Make me your beloved, Dear God
And silence my foes with your mighty sword.

Sweeten my thoughts that had once been sour
That I may smile like a sun flower.
Endorse the re-birth of my destiny,
And protect me from Satan, man’s greatest enemy.
Categories: sickens, prayer, me, heart, heart,
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Corrupt Bishops

The Pillars of humanity
felled by little boys tears
Irish clover
not so lucky for boys in white
defrocked
a new generation of holy men
the cycle of sodomy
sickens the soul
yet the masses
on their knees
sending child
like  a lamb on the cross
blood droplets
religious tears glow
ah but the Irish clap
as Saint Patrick
condemns them to purgatory
wishing the evils ones
had been aborted
Categories: sickens, abuse, anger, angst, betrayal,
Form: Free verse

Scarred Soul

Feigned love cut you deep,
left your heart bleeding profusely
Blood red, rose-colored stains,
drip, drip, dripping trail leading out the door ...
time to mop up this mess of a relationship
Wring all the tears into the bucket,
flush it out of the system ... get clean again
Can't let hate infection set in,
your fragile heart has to mend
Stunned by the deliberate stab,
a betrayal of a lover's trust
It hurt even more
when a twist came with the thrust
No one ever told you that pain
would be a derivative of the pleasure game
In your weakened state,
delirious passions swirl in your mind
Flashing images of past sated desires ...
you moan feverishly in the night
Love withdrawal has such a narcotic bite
And time doesn't heal the wound quite properly,
you're left with scar tissue on the soul
Touch it gently with your mind,
and feel the oddest sensation ... like phantom arousal
It sickens you that you feel pleasure
from neural memories
of when your two bodies pressed together as one
It frightens you that you still have these type of feelings
for someone who merely regarded you as a sex toy
Then cast you aside,
and tried to kill your soul and steal your joy
You must face your fears;
the thing you desired so, almost was the death of you
But you lived on with a scarred soul,
and much wisdom gained:
from disfigurement, your true beauty now shines through
Categories: sickens, betrayal, heartbreak, love hurts,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Ebony and Ivory






Go ahead, try to separate the races.
You politicians have egg, on your malicious faces.

Not realizing in your frozen hearts.
You toss imperfect, very hopeless darts.

Neither money nor educatiion
Can separate friends of the American nation.

Equity for Blacks only, you shout from your parapets.
ThatWill never separate us, not one bit.

So you fund hate groups to form derision,
Amongst hearts who have made, no such decision.

You paint whites as Nazis, blacks as slaves?
You think we are animals or morons, you hopeless knaves!

We have friends of all colors and religions.
But you go on fake news, as dense as pigeons.

You do all in your power to make this beautiful world dour.
You shout, “The world is ending by the hour?”

Filling us with fear, like climate change,
The ozone layer went up one percent, but not to Al Gore and his gang.

Whites mucking about, pretending they are Black?
It sickens me, Caucasians,it’s a racial attack.

Equity, as if, this were even ever possible.
We of all colors, think you are miserable.

So twenty years ago, I found a Black sister online.
Living in the hood, with loving  heart that really shines!

She’s problems with sleep, as bullets fly about all night.
Seven hundred and thirty five, died in that city alone last year, what a fright!

DC bigwigs  avoid the Hood like the Plague.
Yet demand Democrats vote for Blacks alone, don’t dare turn the page.

They tell them freedom is food stamps and a free phone?
It is such a lie, it makes me gasp and groan.,

Keeping  the Blacks forever, on othe Plantation Nation!
You, while they are killed in the Hood, fly to Davos on vacation.


             Dedicated to my Sistah of another mother!
             Like you, Blessed Rita , there is no other!


            With love,
            Sistah Pangie
     
            1/23/2023
Categories: sickens, love, race, sister,
Form: Couplet

Victim.....Survivor

You are one cruel hearted man.
One too many for my life span.

You have inflicted one too many abuses.
I am so tired of your lousy excuses!

Whether it be with your mouth, fist, or actions
You found ways to punish for imagined infractions.

It sickens me that I did not leave as soon
As I realized that you always sing the same tune.

You claim that I don't love you enough.
I am not falling for that bit of fluff.

The truth is, it is you that doesn't know how to love
Go on you know this is true what I speak of.

Wrapping your hands around my neck to choke
Because you did not like what I had spoke.

You giving me a black eye
Because you assume what I say is a lie.

Some one says a victim that makes me.
Well I guess we shall see.

I no longer want to be thought of as that.
Survivor...yes I have that down pat.

I survived your endless abuses.
I survived all those bruises.

Victim...me....HELL NO!!!
SURVIVOR that is me. Way to go.
Categories: sickens, recovery from...me,
Form: Couplet

Premium Member Vultures Prey On the Innocent

Not even a ballot box can change the word etched 
when God has left man to his own independent council 
Choice of error has crept into every corner of society 
rights have been turned upside down undervaluing natural law 

Which in it's content is engraved deeply and implanted for a genuine reason 
vices are desires that sickens even demons 
Ruling against eternal justice reeks of an awful sinful soul 
what is wrong with the world today let us see 

They are afraid to speak the truth openly and democratically 
instead virtues and morals are fed to the lions
The first victim removing freedom 
weighs heavy chains attached anchor dropped 

Because of them having very little faith 
sinking beneath par they applaud the sinner 
removing peace fire breathing with shame and hate 
Condemning everything which is good 
with twisted malice beastly shaped with doctored views condemned 
it will end soon when everyone awakens 
from their sorrowful pitied state
Categories: sickens, abortion, anti bullying, bible,
Form: Free verse


Premium Member A Survivor's Will

My
will to
survive may
be decreasing
as I get older.
Failed attempts to cure what
my own doctor did to me
has brought me disillusionment.
Seeing how world leaders have brought us
to the brink of destruction sickens me.

Despite all the bad, however, there is
still so much good that I imagine
even lying in agony
with heaven within my reach -
I would probably be
fighting even then
with all my might
for my last
little
breath.

Oct. 13, 2020 for Silent One's  'Will to Survive' Poetry Contest
Categories: sickens, life,
Form: Etheree

Premium Member When Proof of Gotcha Is Ignored

After reading opinions of many PS poets, I'm sick of hearing phrases like, 
"it's causing big problems," "making me heartbroken," "it sickens me," and many other negative thoughts that are detrimental to the site. I've given up trying to comprehend why some use it and claim it as their own. It's the same with plagiarizing, so I'll save myself the angst of using similar phrases because this is how I see it...

They come in all sizes, shapes, and each gender
posting poetic words that to them do not belong
and then deny it. To the truth they'll not surrender
AI users and plagiarizers will never admit the wrong

I've grown weary reading about it and I'm disconnecting
from caring if they keep getting away with it on the soup
I've stopped using detectors for those I've been suspecting...
ones who continue to debase themselves; it's low to stoop

Sadly, I've seen "Gotcha" written too often in the last year
Proof's been sent to those who should uphold their claim
Written words in PS established rules are not upheld here
leaving AI users and plagiarists getting away with their game

What drives you to steal poetry of others and call AI your own?
Is it because there's no harsh penalty from the administration?
People, you who call yourselves 'poet,' I cannot condone
those who cheat again and again and face no degradation

My eyes will be blind to those users and their schemes
I'll write what I choose as long as I'm pleased with my lines
Attention to mentioned issues has gone far beyond extremes
It's a legitimate gripe but I'm done with complaints and whines
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: sickens, how i feel,
Form: Rhyme

Sensless ( Part Two )

In all these triumphs and human attainments 
To overcome these realities of material boundaries and confinements 
Do we simply fill our lives with possessions and possessive capitalist greed
Is it just ego and the fear of death that governs our sense of individuality

Have not all of us been children, been fathers or mothers, siblings and friends
Do we not count the emotion of another as being equal to our own
Are we not each and everyone, all of us in this together
Or does this blood run a different colour

Or do we waste our potential for mankind’s united evolvement
To reach for the inspiring pinnacle of our spiritual development
Mutually joined in a harmony of trust to the betterment of our destiny

When do we celebrate the diversity of our sense to make sense of the senseless

And so we have lingered through the century’s victim to our own disease
In progress and with education our intelligence still limited in tribal ignorance
The mathematic, scientific and technological revolution providing no solution

Simply confounded by our own simplicity and basic needs
For food and warmth, for shelter and love, for the relief of boredom
Cavemen of the mundane and slaves to acquisition and our own entertainment
As we merely continue to continue

Such is as we are, the problem vis-à-vis the individual and the global
Knowing all to well what we could achieve if we could but realise our dreams
Doomed to a life which creates nothing but want
And a daily reminder of all the things that we can’t

While the cradle of the Earth sickens with our planetary abuse
Have we truly lost ourselves in the all about the money all the way of things
Have we signed our fate over to our own arrogance and blind stupidity

When then do we celebrate our diversity of sense to make sense of "our" senseless
Categories: sickens, lifeeducation,
Form: Free verse

My, My, What the Sickens

The story of school starting is here
It began with a bell and a cheer
Bob brought a talking chicken
My, my, what the sickens
Harridan Teacher silenced them with fear
Categories: sickens, school,
Form: Limerick

Man Vs Woman

The very softest forms 
Of martial arts
Tai chi 
It’s very similar to a dance.
You’re a dancer who dodges. 
And aikido
for when things get a little rougher. 

These seek to do no harm to a predator
To disarm with the least amount of force. This woman does aspire
Chi point strikes are more dangerous to your opponent, and fellow being.
If you choose to learn them, okay. That’s your choice. 
You are always in the process of gathering tools.

It sickens me to hear of advice
Of gouging with keys 
And other flimsy 
means.

How are you supposed to take care of yourself?

Or worse, seeking to do the most harm with the least amount of effort
S. I. N. G.
That is not a type of “singing” I’d EVER endorse. 
It boils my blood. That stupid coincidence-

That is laziness
And inability to feel empathy
Plain and simple.

“Miss Congeniality” 
Sandra Bullock 
She punches and beats up that man that did NOTHING.
There’s nothing congenial 
about targeting someone’s genitals. 
And then teased him

And everyone LAUGHED.

Who’s the sociopath now?
Or the SADIST???

If a man punched a woman anywhere
And then taunted her
You would be baying for his blood. 

Like lionesses who wolf down dogs cowering
You are not that different.
You’re the same species. 
Sheesh.
Categories: sickens, gender,
Form:

Women Empowerment

A woman is not to be treated as a mere object 

What she needs is true love and respect

But that isn't what we see when we look around

Most of them are tagged as skanks and trampled down

When they try to change the so-called stereotypes

They are called mean names and some become beaten wives

That isn't the way that they should be treated

It isn't a competition where one wins and one is defeated

We should treat them all like precious stones

Coz to everyone of us our moms are queens sitting on thrones

It sickens me to my very core

That rape is becoming so common, and there's lots more

Women can't safely walk outside at night

Without fearing for their lives that something just might,

Happen at any time regardless of their age

It's like they are trapped in some sort of cage

Like an animal at the zoo, jeered at and admired

But aren't we supposed to make sure that they are actually inspired

To become better human beings and change our society

And be the best version of themselves that they can be

What we need to understand is that all this starts with you and me

Just like it takes individual drops to make the deep blue sea
Categories: sickens, community, culture, encouraging, inspiration,
Form: Rhyme

I Wait For the End and Sing My Death Song

As I leave you today Im broken hearted
My body dies and I become one of the departed
The taste of death sickens me in every way
All the colors I know now are black and gray

With no worries as I know you will be shortly along
I wait for the end and sing my death song

Painting my lifes canvas with a final stokes breath
Knowing my critic is th reper of death
Staring at loving pictures that hang on my wall
Knowing the angels are waiting paiently to call

With no worries as I know you will be shortly along
I wait for the end and sing my death song

Im one heartbeat away from rotting to the core
You can hear the sound of me knocking on deaths door
What direction will I take heaven or hell
Im not impatient and only time wil tell

With no worries as I know you will be shortly along
I wait for the end and sing my death song

Going softly as day turns to eternal night
My fear is upon me and then all at once out of sight
I drown in sorrow into the sea of blue
My last thoughts are of course you and only you

With no worries as I know you will be shortly along
I wait for the end and sing my death song
Categories: sickens, death,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Anatomy of Disgust

A stoma and a scar 
like the Grand Canyon
form a conspiracy 
against my body. 
The stoma--raw and 
fleshy--looks like a red 
and beefy barnacle on 
my side that constantly 
oozes and drains feces 
and waste like an 
overflowing, backyard 
cesspool. It sickens me.

Near the red and moist 
stoma lies a huge, 
crooked scar on my 
stomach and abdomen. 
It is like the Grand 
Canyon of Arizona--an 
immense displacement 
of the local landscape, 
only instead of earth 
and rock and soil it is 
my skin and muscle 
and tissue that has been 
gouged away. Like my
stoma, it sickens me as
well. Because of them
both, my body now
seems to me like the 
raw anatomy of 
disgust.
Categories: sickens, allegory, angst, dark, depression,
Form: Free verse

Animal Cruelty

Animal cruelty is an ongoing and sickening epidemic. I'll never understand how thoughts can 
creep into a human being's mind that would make them want to harm a defenseless pet. I 
wrote this poem after four teenagers went out of their way to cause pain and torture to a cat 
in my hometown. This poem is written from an animal's perspective somewhat. 

Defenseless.
Looking into your eyes as he's whipped and you show zero remorse.
Beating him with blunt and traumatic force.
You brutalize innocence with no intention to repent. 
Breaking his back as you show a lack of self-respect.
Confused by actions that cannot be forgiven.
My stomach sickens.
How can you live with acts you have committed?
A vulnerable object that had no chance to fight. 
Can you justify why you felt the need to end his life?
The hands of a murderer, you show no shame.
Your only means of actions to cause violence and pain.
You looked directly into his somber eyes as you broke his body.
Anger and resentment shown towards an unsophisticate form of life.
The color crimson covered your hands as you tore him apart.
Piece by piece.
Ripping him at the seams as you lessened yourself as a man.
Never will I be able to look into your eyes the same way again.
This is unforgivable, it's not permissable, it's unexplainable.
You are a poison to this earth.
You have fed your wretched soul on the weak and still regret evades your mind.
You corrupt, repulsive piece of work.
You'll run out of luck.
This charade won't last another moment.
You took someting full of life and just turned into a fragment.
What runs through your brain?
What fills your heart? 
How do you look your eyes into the mirror so unscathed?
How can you live with so much hate?
You ended a life without an ounce of morality holding you back!
You tortured your victim, forcing your hands on him until he cracked.

Lifelessness.
No signs of torment or guilt filling your eyes.
Your time will run out.
The hourglass spilling just like the blood of your victim.
Eternal condemnation awaits.
You will lose this game.
Tolerance of your actions is something no human will embrace.
Categories: sickens, death, loss, sadlife, perspective,
Form: Lyric
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