Best Spitted Poems


Woven

Beneath the fury of sun
Wades a wobbly nun
Stomping on thorns
Her soul burnt and torn

Scars on her skin
Carried wounds engraved
Trust, her sin
So were snakes she once craved

She sucked and spitted
Bouts of venom from her blood
Tainted by flood
Of emotions she once knitted

Silence crept loud
In the woods still stern
Moon upturns
Summoning weeping clouds

Tears unfolden
The woven maze
Outside the haze,
Lies a fern pretty golden

Threads, now vines
Adored her bruises
Illusion's penchant to divine's
Were flood sailed cruises

Time passed by,
Venom decays
Has been watching the sky
The fern now sways

The Rich Get Richer the Poor Get Poorer

They know all the loop holes for the IRS 
Elaborate parties, tuxedoes and women in their 5,000 dollar dresses 
A cardboard box, another statistic for the homeless 
A corporate exec did a downsize today 
The car repossessed, the house taken away 
Sometimes reality is a person's real life movie of horror 
The rich get richer, the poor get poorer 
Some have never known to go to sleep without a meal 
Our government turns a blind eye does not want to see what's real 
America's rich worried about the homeless overseas 
The poor get spitted in their faces by those wealthy celebrities 
A billionaire wouldn't even foot the taxes for the cars she gave away 
Never forget where you came from, you may have to return there someday 
All the rich have a gold key  to the IRS's back door 
They know all the loop holes for the IRS 
Elaborate parties, tuxedoes and women in their 5,000 dollar dresses 
A cardboard box, another statistic for the homeless 
A corporate exec did a downsize today 
The car repossessed, the house taken away 
Sometimes reality is a person's real life movie of horror 
The rich get richer, the poor get poorer 
Some have never known to go to sleep without a meal 
Our government turns a blind eye does not want to see what's real 
America's rich worried about the homeless overseas 
The poor get spitted in their faces by those wealthy celebrities

The Spoken Word

Words were spoken 
And the blind saw
Just words spitted
And the lame got their walk
Lazarus in his sleep of death
Rotten and smelling
Woke up for words of life
Had called him

In my tongue the word says
Sleeps the power of life and death
Hidden in the life of words

In the beginning the word was
And God was with the word
He spoke and it came to be
Allow me to therefore
By the power accorded upon my lips
Speak and spit these words
Upon my granted life
I am healed
I am blessed
I will conquer

In words we harvest 
Blessings and curses
In prophecy I chose to speak 
That the lord is my shield 
And my buckler
I speak health
I speak wealth
I speak wisdom 
I speak long life 
I will not sink by the power
In the word of his name.


Premium Member Castles In the Sky

t
     				                               /   \
			                                     /`  I ;\
 			                                    /.built ;\
                                                          /a castle; \
			                                /. In the sky \
			                               /    out of    ; :\
				                      /, ;  _  _  _  __ :\
			                                [,   concrete  ,]
				                        [ [ ] blocks    ;]
				                        [     [        ]   ;]
 l”l  l“’l  l”’l  l”’l                                   [           l”l  l“’l  l”’l  l”’l  l
[   Pinnacle   ;]			                [          [      stained    ;] 
[     Crowns  ;]			                [and    [glass windows ;]
\ - ..__. .:--- /			                [            \..______ ..:/
  [-----------]_l”l  l“’l  l”’l  l”’l l”l  l“’l  l”’l  l”’l _  l”’ [  ---=---=-]
  [  [ ]      .;]     to live a life that pleases God .   [   *-*      ;]
  [ * = *   .[]  Centered in an entranced island of [verdant.: ]
  [   l    l   . ]  green     /###  \ garden, hues of  [ colour  .: ]
  [   l _ l  .: ]blossoms ll        ll  vanishing under  [ glowing.: ]
  [   =     .: ]  heaven  ll        ll Fireplace spitted  [ to life   .: ]
  [	      .: ]  torch     ll        ll  lights   flicker     [ reflecting ]
  [   __,   .: ]  in the    ll        ll  tower  walls as    [ lace veils ]
  [	      .: ]  hang of  ll       ll  the ceiling casting[ shadows  ]
  [     _    .: ]------------>======== < ------ --(____ ____)
  (    * --   .: )----- /  Prayers  for //  ----------------------
~             ~        /   Strength    //  ~``			~
 ~	..              /     Peace       //	``	~   ..
               ~     /      Hope       //  ~		       ~            11/21/2016
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

What Easter Means To Me- Passion and Death of Christ

As modern Christians, we overlook
the meaning and purpose of Good Friday,
when Christ was crucified on a dreary day...
to bear our sins on His shoulder.


From the Via Dolorosa to distant Golgotha
too heavy and painful was the wooden cross
He carried through the streets of Jerusalem
as people spitted on Him and laughed; 
and with deep sadness and pity:
Jesus told the weeping women...
not to cry for him but for their children. 
And one of them wiped the blood off
His pale face with a soft cloth... 
to comfort Him in His final hours.


The mocking and laughter continued at the gate,
as Simon of Cyrene was ordered to carry the cross
to Calvary and before nine o' clock...
Jesus faced an excruciating crucifixion
by the Romans soldiers who had
the sharpest nails for his hands and feet;
and Jesus words loudly spoken in the Temple echoed again
in that afternoon getting cloudy and dark,
"Jerusalem, Jerusalem, who murdered 
the Prophets..." But the wickedness of the crowds
was too extreme to understand their despicable deed.


And there crucified as an impostor,
He cried out to His Father, " Eli, Eli...lama sabachthani?"
There was no answer...only a deadening silence had prevailed.
But Jesus trusting in Him whispered," Father, into your  
hands I commit my spirit." And in saying so He expired. 
Soon after there was a powerful earthquake strong enough to shake
the Temple's foundations...day became night
as everyone ran downhill so terrified.
The astonished centurion, witnessing the horrifying event,  
exclaimed," Surely He was the Son of God!"


Like good Christians, we must remember the long and agonizing hours
of Christ passion and death...oh, how precious 
was the divine blood He spilled to redeem us!
And as He was resurrected, so we'll be resurrected  by the trumpets!

Hate

Hate

Hate, hate, Hate
It all goes with my fate
I try to conceal it
But it starts to eat me inside

Hate is the nasty, big black color
I picture it as a burned flower
Searching for colorful things
But it just can't find the world around it

I try to eat hate
Man! It's as hard as biltong
It tastes like chewing sand
That makes me irritated!

Hate is the wild monster
Invading every red heart
Draining every blood it had
Pouring ashes onto the heart

hate smells like rotten meat
whenever a dog pass by;
It stops to smell the horrible aroma
Quickly the dog hurries away

hate is the sound of mucus
spitted on the floor, “Spurt!”
It disgusts everyone
Yuck! It makes me vomit

Hate bullies me
It forces me to be negative
with its gigantic red eyes
It frightens me

Hate refuses to have companions
To have friendly faces
Even smiles and laughter is not permitted
hate is a disastrous idol!

Hate you are nothing
But trash to anything you ever invaded
so unlock my heart
And leave me in peace
 
By Martha Jonas


Christmas Epic

Glorious voices in praises
From the oral of beautiful faces.

Angels flew to and fro
In  a delight void of sorrow.

The God seated upon the throne
In a mysterious glory shone.

Pondering a rise to the man
Who fell at the flat flaws of the woman.

A divine friendship project
An heavenly submitted subject.

And there was the need to send
So for an ending enmity end.

The sacrifice for the closed gap
For men to draw and grace tap.

The Son had such great love
For His abode is love above.

For He chose to be made
And lower than the angels was he made.

In a virgin grace He was breathed
And in the manger at birth held.

Joy broke loose at His arrival
In the streets of men for the come revival.

In heaven was gladness
Such that angels chorused in a depth of goodness

The mother's eyes lighted with an unscathed  glittering
And father's hands patted the divine offspring.

Grew and waxed strong 
And to fulfil He held not too long.

For yet in flesh yet compassionate
Loved still though flanked by hate.
 
Of suffering He brought comfort 
And to sinners He stretched come forth.

A servant to all yet led
For man His blood shed.

Bruised, spitted upon and beaten
As it was written.

The valley of skulls erected His hanged
After the bitter cries of each nail banged.

A silence broke into heaven
And a heat arose as of the oven.

 The sins were melted 
And the gap was mended.

He rose to ascend into glory
For the change of our wretched story.

The pathway of the  saving grace
To draw and see the Father's face. 

And man was made friend  with
At a reconciliation sincerely  lent.
 
The reason for this season
His birth, death and risen.

Premium Member 1-800-Tweet-Tweet-Tweet

Whoa is me, don't have many friends

Except those here on the Soup

Maybe because I show only my best side

You don't know the real scoop

Nasty to children and push old people down

Whenever I get the chance

It's my right after living for eighty years

Still adorable after a lifelong dance

Well what did you expect, some Casanova

No way, been through life's mill

Got spitted out quite unceremoniously

A hardened “lifer” if you will

Putting you on, been a charmer since birth

Ladies all flock to my door

Just wanting a piece of my virile “young” body

The word “old” I absolutely abhor

Well enough about me, a Hollywood hunk

Quite unassuming, shy and sweet

If any of you want to know this guy better

Number's 1-800-TWEET TWEET TWEET



© Jack Ellison 2015

I Stand Amidst

To dwell among the ruins;
littered with broken bottles and flattened plastic cups,
stamped out cigarette butts
Cast off lottery binges,
crushed ghetto dreams and empty syringes
Poisoned by so many stings of inequality
Flickering opportunities ...
shed your skin, and perhaps poverty
will become a molted nightmare
I stand amidst
a people in a narcotic induced stupor,
their drug of deceit is a false sense of identity
They want to believe so bad
in their adopted society
Still slaves to orphaned naiveté
My feet of clay are bruised
on the shards of this shattered glass menagerie
A ghetto cage with rusted hinges,
creaky freedom that depends
on intensive mental lubrication
Trapped souls within tend to not have enough strength
to swing open the cage door 
I stand amidst
a people with weeping desires
of soaked happiness wrung dry
Shuddering in cold urban projects
left ill-heated and unfinished
We who came here with nothing ...
stripped of everything --- our heritage, our dignity
Then subsequently told we are not entitled to anything
I fall to my knees
in the midst of my people's pain
As the dagger of disillusionment
is plunged into our collective heart
again and again
We are assimilation's spitted out bitter raisins

You Trap Us Inside Your Jars

After several weeks of caresses
You seduce me to lock my soul inside a jar

I’m glad and sad I’m not the only one
Glad that I’m not the only stupid
Sad that women make mistakes repeated

You classify us by our characteristics
Treat us emotionally sadistic
You make us feel pathetic

You are to rate us and decide who’ll be retired
To be dumped and spitted
After your several testing phases

How many jars been decorating your shelf?
How can we escape from you and temptation towards ourselves?

(24/01/2012)

I Am...

I'm a slave so I got slave traits
brought with a price, brought to America
and got bidded on, slapped, whipped 
worked cotton fields and of course been spitted on
you see I then did a bid caught probation and
to be on these streets again I'm scared
probation or parole 
don't mean you free it's just another way
for this country to keep you in check
now you might get some respect from ya homies
but tell me whats that, truth is I'm just a slave wit benefits
so times ain't really changed from then till now
cause we were slaves then and we still are now
when you see a slave what you hear shhh! not a sound
we was lost and then found or rather already found
just taken, robbed, and raped given a clean slate
wit a new name thats kind of the reason 
I could never wear bracelets and chains 
so I'm still locked up in my own mind frame.

This is what I am or rather who I am
a servant of the great I AM
and I am every man & woman who fought & died for freedom
I am every Malcolm X, Martin Luther King, Harriet Tubman
that chose to lead em, I am every Nelson Mandela,
Rodney King and Jesus Christ thats eternally bleeding
I am the truth, way, light & every righteous reason
every preacher, evangelist, poet, public speaker, & deacon
that believes some people are only in ya life for seasons
and as a young adult to my young brothers & sisters
I been sanctified to lyrically feed em that everybody 
walks their own path but only you know who you 
should believe in.
© Corey Ross  Create an image from this poem.

Murder Me With Thy Love

have gone through 
Many murders
Throughout my life
Cold-blooded,
Savage and heart-wrenching.
Heart lost it's zeal
But the one that 
Made me to 
Live in a mausoleum 
Without getting died
Is thy love
Dagger of ur 
Love pierced my flesh
Ate my ligaments
And spitted the remnants
Like a devouring wolf
Don't murder me with 
Thy love...
Coz,i have already lost
The chime of my voice
When u losed the key
To open my heart
© Sneha Nair  Create an image from this poem.

Her : One Love

No Longer than three mouths
My relation ship have never lasted longer than three mouths
But I have been on  you from years 
And I am starting to think why do I even care
But I have loved you since the beginning 
And to tell you the truth my love will just grow funder because I don't see the end
See you picked me up when I was high and dry
Dusted me up and held me up with so much pride
And didn't care what people thought
As long as I was by your side
The modern day Bonnie and Clyde
Never neglected or rejected
Only promise was to change everyone's perspective 
And to not be bonded with the world with the word of hate
But we just had to have faith
And be wishing for better days
The struggle didn't matter as  long as was together
Always and forever is her name
It Slither across my tongue
But am I was I birthed from the sperm of the Satan because I love her
Our relationship would be the same if she was a man so what is the difference
Was my argument 
When she met my parent
And the words they spitted back were pure hate
But you call your self Christians
But I read in the same bible that you study from That God Judges
And you are not god so how can you judge me if thou has sin too
And I say this what the most meaning
Who are you
Blood might be thicker than water
But wrong and wrong
And i don't care whether I love a girl ,boy , Transgender or who ever  love is love 
And of the day Love has no name or gender
So don't tell me who to love
If you do not know love yourself

Loser

LOSER


my parents
taught me to walk and they made me crawl
taught me to talk and they said be quiet
they tormented my mind to slay my imagination

their vociferations of scrawny advice
a fragmentation of a thought hospitalized
getting ready
for a more robust job
to mock my ideals


                   *

my teachers
taught me to write and they cut off my thoughts
taught me to read and they took away my books
taught me geography and they pointed the enemy

they were radiant
with a vivacious
inconsistent preaching
that curdled with every word
and left me
tired
hungry
cold

                   *

my leaders 
taught me to love my country and they gave me political slogans
taught me history and they didn’t want me a hero
they torture my body to kill my will to live
trashed my humanity to build in me the hate
forced me on my knees to slobber on my head
they put me with criminals to teach me how to kill
they destroyed my files to erase my existence
they spitted me out naked and hopeless

my parents, my teachers, my leaders 
a spiteful reminder
that I should squirm
in front of their frying words

and the meaningless guilt grabs me
insipid
achromatic
odorless
still there
pressing 
pushing
drowning thoughts


they planned my life and I chose freedom
                 
                 *

I don’t have old parents
to care for and to cry 
over their shrinking bodies

I don’t have roots 
shoved around as a leaf in the wind
caressing the ground
but I am part of a tree

I’m a nomad
unwelcomed writer 
with tired wrinkled eyes
holding old forgotten songs
of love and hate
waddling to the kitchen
for a hot green tea

I write fossilized verses
the murmur of a thought
a tribulation to the language
common sense and logic
repulsive notions

I drown in verbalism 
wasting my soul’s value
atom by atom
while I wait
to grow white wings
but my heart and arms
are in breakable cast
I am a loser
with cardboard ideas 
and I project my mobility in a short poem
charged with captive gods

yeah, I’m a loser
and that’s fine with me.

Between Jupiter and a Bottle

Torn between Jupiter and a bottle
The sky-borne heart, caught yearning for the stars,
Staggers, split and spitted upon the earth.
This is not what Love was spilt for, nevermore
To spy out the cold crippled, dripping sun.
Society flails in its own puke,
As the unicorns lay slaughtered in the
Cracked concrete forests. Feet pound, dogged,
Down the tired ruins. The sainted smoke,
Drifting on the breeze of long stale hopes,
Calls back to life the broken, burnt-out voice
Of forgotten dreams, pulled from the dust.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace