Best Susceptibility Poems
The rays of nature, flowing into the human spirit
landing in its softest spot and sweeping through its lattice
everything then changes with the being becoming a wondrous and happy fool
as romance marries the heart to become one being
In the faculty of love, inexplicable passions are seen
with minty-flavoured affections becoming its dean
all corners of the soul, kept so clean
while the stronghold of selfishness becoming really lean.
Adult mind, stripped by a sense of care quite mean
and to the reaction from the loved, it stays completely keen
emotional susceptibility, becomes its covering like the jean
as the breath of Love, pricks all senses like pin
the effect of its inhale, hindered by nothing
passing through the hollow of feelings no matter how thin
it never feels wrong or else everything good is a sin
so accept this deep breath and let love win
For the contest: Second Chance #3Contest Info
by Broken Wings
N/A in the contest: Second Chance
Contest deadline: 4/13/2016 12:00:00 AM
Published: 2/10/2015
The virtue was being wronged, depicted his woeful tale of prey and innocence.
Gradually people gathered to listen to the poignant rhetoric.
blown away by the felon's aching, awful narration;
pitied the miserable plight, lamented the dejected tales.
There were babbling, the throng silently protested the unfairness, the injustice.
In innuendo, the protagonist raised the pitch of the tragic tale, the foul play.
one day, the aggrieved throng, broke the glasshouse of the pointed swindler of innocence to penalize,
rejoiced, contended, the folk were prattling the nature's law of justice.
The protagonist in awe, applauded the mob for the transgression, for the hold up.
All of a sudden, the cynosure of their eyes,
became bean ideal of rectitude and integrity,
applauded for the moral fortitude, honoured, doted on.
The proclaimed perceived upright hero was silently starring, astounded at the susceptibility of the mob, utterly blind,
subtly entangled in his devious, fabricated, intrigued plot!
The protagonist of the moving tale, removed the mask at the end quietly, with a sardonic laugh;
in triumph to give a puff to the credulous absurdity.
The machiavellian hero, was meticulously eavesdropping, peeping at the gross fooly.
The irony! The demon in disguise, is glorified by mercy of ludicrous asinine.
My sad, deplorable glory is a nightmare for another
This knowing is sickening to the bone
The need for anothers' pain is like a virus
Slitting the veins of truth and delirious want of false
Watching the bile flow through
I emptied a full, sorrowful glass for you
Without even a moment’s glance
Your parched lips opened to drink
But like poison the sustainable exhalation surrounded your body
I shrank at the shrieks of your disquietude
Not knowing what to do
Expression died with the loss of flow
I couldn’t flourish in the bleak winters of your loss
I couldn’t grow
All happiness in a flash of susceptibility
Turned to woe
I gave into thinking it was all an unworthy dream
But the answers, the symbolism was never clear
The loss of your very soul is what I fear
I never meant to poison you in what I take as nourishment
And here now you rot
At the expense of these sad, empty tunes
They must mean close to nothing to you
Pain
Pain
Why do I revolve around the pain?
The empty glass of your spirits remains stained
With the insides of all things true
Torn away
Smothered in a ghostly, ghastly gore
I couldn’t see you could not take it
The sorrow I meant to erase to fake it
But instead make it
The reason I live is to sing for you
To disintegrate the swelling blue
But instead I crawled into your only space
Leaving only disgrace
The gore splattering in jewels across your face
I’ll tell you what
All my achievements are naught
They are only fakes
I am nothing without God’s grace
I spurt with illegitimate words and tunes
That you can never face!
As if by the heaven I inspired
I am drunken with your bile
Of pride risen above the mile
What is this sadness—
This anger, this madness?
Show me what to do
Show me what to say
I’ll dispose of all vagaries I dared to feel today
And replace it with pain
Replace it with pain
Discordance from another is my nightmare smothered
And this the majority crave
The need—the desire for acknowledgement
We will take it to the grave
I never wanted heartless fame
A poison in a cup
I never wanted anything
Only to fill you up
I poured the glass and there it came
Just sad, tired air
Nothing left to give you
Not even the sentiment of a stare
The truth is I am scared
The truth is I am scared
I guess, at times we are all. . .
Not there
7/13/13
Spare the noose - let one live!
Just moments and life's gone,
for the lives one hack
and for it never to come back!
Isn't justice flawed with 'glee' to adorn?
The noose has a strong say
and so do the bullet!
Can one take a call with ballet,
to snatch a beautiful life away?
So easy to take than to give -
easy to take a tooth for a tooth
and eye for an eye ! Won't it soothe,
to keep a person alive?
If a single person's decision
that took life is wrong,
so, will be - a collective throng!
Can justice be seen in 'retaliation'?
Civilisations claim to civilise -
by deliberately inflicting pain
and causing agony only to gain!
How is it an attempt to harmonise?
Taking life by force in a system,
meticulously planned
and with the gallows manned -
Who rests authority for any such dictum?
Rules are guidelines laid by the man,
for the man - for humanity to steer,
itself to sheer and for some to fear!
Gives no right to kill - ain't it time to ban?
And how qualified, a Judge,
to ascertain the quantum?
Doesn't outcomes of a post-mortem,
reveal their susceptibility to fudge?
What is travesty, if this is not?
In a civil world with respect for life,
survival - a day-to-day strife!
Isn't this for sure - an ugly face of human rot?
Life formed is by its own will,
from Life by life's own choice,
and not by any fancy voice!
Why plague it with collective ill?
Look at corrective steps instead,
even incarceration till death,
or community service till end cometh!
Kill for a kill will only make hatred spread!
Executing executions even on ones own self,
when all the wrongs to right with might,
fall flat on the face and not worth a fight!
Won't condoning surge from deep within the 'Self'?
Find space in thy heart to forgive!
Religion that imparts killing as a tool,
of course paves way to 'paradise for a fool'!
Can't retributive justice be seen by letting one live?
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman Flying
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, seeks young sprig poe
whet tick friend in toto,
though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman
think Monty Python's
Flying Circus skittering
on thin ice - Skidamarink
a dink, a dink...
hither and yon, to and fro
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, no spring chicken bro,
nevertheless oz offer friendship in toto
good day to thee with cheerful adieu.
Though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (cryptic blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.
Why? Tell me why?
I ponder why you avoid me?
Couldn't you see!?
I love you till I die..
I cannot see you, yet I see I.
A glimpse out the window morphs into a gaze
Brugmansia, your mystical delicate beauty clears
Air conditioned stupor. There you sway
Gracefully grasping toward thirst-quenched solidity.
Firmly rooted one strand beyond limp susceptibility
Leaves randomly ragged from young rodents' teething
Swelteringly bearing the dark side of nature
Fresh blossoms emanate dignity's essence
Despite gloomy doomsday predictions
Angel trumpeting goodness and peace.
It was crazy how you spoke to me
As if you knew that you were close to me
Closed my eyes shut so I can see
Just what that noise is exactly telling me.
It was all new to me
Undressed my mind caught in Nudity
Leud obscenity
Your words came in ways that violated me so Incredibly.
Sensually
It felt as if your vocabulary was committing adultery
Uncensored; unexpectedly
Yet it was absolutely gravitating to me
Verbs that set me free
Architect-ed in senses of sentences effusively.
Which usually I'm more caught up physically
but today you captured me verbally
With a satisfaction guarantee...Thank fully
For granting me, access
To what you have stored confidentially
Having trust in me; Most definitely, am very honored to be...
The recipient of your emotional susceptibility.
I walk
On a thin metallic needle
Behind a plastic seal
Beginnings are usually deceptive
Wider bases cleverly deceive
Towards fine tapering ends,
They lead?
Mislead.
Exploiting my needs
Hopeful susceptibility
The love for light
A little respite
Also cheats
Consoling myself
A dark patch maybe
I cement my belief
But a distant voice
Faintly speaks
The needle is painted black
Can't you see
That you can't?
Even if I could
I retaliate
Your scratched glass
This so-called protective shield
Would have obscured my vision
Curtailed my inherent abilities
Perfectly planned
Painted black
A tapering end
I obediently walk
Locked
The metal erodes
Facilitating the final fall
Tick tock
Tick tock
Darkness obscured your danger sign, imperceptible but not benign.
My dreams flowed into a high electric field, our minds taped and concealed--
Your heart was radioactive; all my emotions were refractive.
I sacrificed full support before the strings were cut short.
The promising harmony in our memorized words matched us backwards.
"There is always a possibility" . . . caused susceptibility . . .
Bitten by beating betrayal was a poor, pitiful portrayal.
Heart radioactive, skin magnetic, and eyes apologetic--
I emitted isotopic tears as I enveloped my vile fears,
A sharp gamma knife damaging our decayed friendship by a half-life.
Heart radioactive, skin magnetic, and eyes apologetic--
The nuclear attraction in an atmosphere of chain reaction.
Exponentially drifting apart in your radioactive heart.
I have found that civility
Can diffuse most animosity
When applied with honesty,
And a heart in the correct vicinity
In our fast paced “modern” society
We are subject to a never ending drudgery
Which has increased our susceptibility
To that which is opposed to the Divinity
Brothers and Sisters I implore thee!
Pause, breath, rest, restore your vitality
Take a break from our pounding reality
Be one with your heart and soul, completely
At peace, it is much more easy
To find the time for that civility
Which can relieve all that animosity
And make it a better world for you and me.
Inspired by the contest: "What is Civility to you?" sponsored by:Adelana
Many eyes of different color
see images and give them meaning;
reality is the clearest perception,
which brings on its sweetness,
and often an unacceptable bitterness:
I have given these reflective eyes
a choice and a challenge: to either
accept or refuse when they were observing,
to make conception uniquely mine...
being that courageous soul uneffected by lies!
Nothing that came out of these thoughts
was ever imagined by someone else;
everything that happened specified its reason,
and analyzing events...magnified the scope of its revelation:
all that this mind has poured out and revealed,
or even failed to discern is uniquely mine!
How foolish I would have been, if I hadn't been
able to bring to completion what had already been decided by fate;
another tragedy, and even more disappointment,
to have stood by and watched others win!
Every parade has some happy music and gleeful faces,
and life glides along with the same rhythm and pace,
it's up to us to show all the colors of our true intentions,
and if we fail, we are pushed aside by a crowd
which instills in its heart a zest that dignifies pride;
so no matter how weak our ego gets and trust dwindles,
we must make sure that hope is never is put by doubt...
otherwise it becomes a useless dream without a concept!
And deeply reflecting on this inevitable demise,
I let go of all my susceptibility and retain what is uniquely mine!
Numerous lives have been shattered by negligence and greed,
mine has withstood all tests and declared its own, indisputable victory;
and it wasn't won by avarice, but by deligence and ingenuity,
to make all wonder how I was never taken down by this heavy load!
What they needed was the strength to endure almost anything:
jealousy, envy, injustice, evil, unfairness ,controversy and misery;
I will not envision that famous figure being carved in marble, stone or brass,
being put on the higest pedetal soon after his mourned death;
if vanity were all I had pursued and fought for in my turbulent time,
I couldn't have achieved my goal: to keep what is uniquely mine!
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Good and Evil
The wicked reek of the devil,
“People are naturally good, not evil.”
In their world, God is dead
And Jesus’s death, irrelevant.
Beyond the deception of oratory
That invokes susceptibility;
Historical evidence evokes rout.
Man is incorrigible without doubt.
The choice of souls for eternity:
Stands Calvary and uncertainty.
Reality will render precedence
Over conviction or innocence.
Life’s limits are predictable,
Death is inevitable.
The procrastinator shall envy
The forgiven sinner.
***
References:
Luke 18:19(NIV): “Why do you call me good?”
Jesus answered. “No one is good—except God alone…”
Romans 3:23(NIV): … “for all have sinned
and fall short of the glory of God,”
I absconded with reader rabbit (Peter), to celebrate Saint Patrick's Day
Ah Sheik Hog - Ho!
One "FAKE" Wingman
think Monty Python's
Flying Circus skittering
on thin ice - Skidamarink
a dink, a dink...
hither and yon, to and fro
Via O'hare To Dublin y'know
Cuz, The Leprechaun within
me, no spring chicken bro,
nevertheless oz offer friendship in toto
good day to thee with cheerful adieu.
Though nowhere to be found despite search team
loudly trumpeting thru depleting fresh air
supply terrestrially polluted atmosphere,
asper the unknown whereabouts, regarding
said royally titled quasi legally inherited bare
naked lady loving bastard oven heated affair
son last seen donning Herringbone Wool headwear
supplemented by Irish merrino wool sweater
and custom made Hemp (smoking hot) pants
informing observer with seedy, faux debonair,
and pseudo (reed "FAKE") suave cultured couture
clothing automatically camouflaging to disappear
without a trace, thee alluded to rival to the throne
(Irish to keep ye in the dark) like chocolate eclair
secret recipe (one takes to the grave), unless held
at gunpoint by bonafide Machiavellian consigliere
ruthless if necessary forcing captive to declare
high fidelity, indemnity, loyalty, et cetera to a
life of lawlessness adopting anonymous incognito
guise accepting bewig noggin with long knotty hair
tattoo skin with "FAKE" scars to accentuate fear
factor accepting (blood bonded) brotherhood till
death do you part loot, pillage, vandalize, et cetera
in a blitzkrieg effort (albeit violently) to repair
evenly distribute disparity between 1% and 99%
grassroots uprising (peopled with migrants) spear
writ ting their exploitation at the (Taj Mahal) bear
sized paws swiping at susceptibility, vulnerability,
inequality, et cetera series of unfortunate events
decreed, instilled, ordained clamped like ironware
shackling one generation after another, an outright
outdated, on par as anachronism, feudalism, stoicism
where stark difference between rich and poor unfair,
especially, cus the latter labor sweat of their brow,
which backbreaking toil essentially endows wealthy
at expense of grunt work signalling ominous nightmare.