Best Tainting Poems
Beautiful, burnished, brilliant
Yet, my ink friendly inclinations produce a chemical discrepancy
And now, you come – Artist
Scratching, on my polished mental plate
Do not blacken me with your fumigating candle
Do not soak me in your acidic bath
Yet, here you are, sketching to leave your design
Ever so lightly, you etch, carefully, penetrating
Acid soaks into your carefully drawn lines
The depth of your influence is varied
Teasing a relief by removing your blackened wax
Only to soak me in your iniquitous ink
Here, I must bring it an end. I must stop you - Artist
I must cleanse my mental plate
Chasten long and purposed for that original surface
Until a polished steel-plated revelation
Yes, there, beautiful, burnished, brilliant…perfect, if not for
Your Latin radere
The etchings of your needle
The stain of your ink in my serrations
My effort seems wasted
The vestiges of your ink tainting all that I touch
Now, everything has your art
Like wetted paper onto my mental plate
All alone in a bush downstream
Where not a soul was likely to dwell
Pinned against the green grasses, a young girl
Injecting her ruthlessly, a cruel hunk
At my sight, off he fled
A rape victim an innocent soul
Her mind drifts into the abyss of sorrow
As red fluid streams down her thighs
Reaching out for a nearby leaf
Just to clear off the mess
Her heart,heavy in her ribs
Up I lifted and embraced her as the
torrent of her tears soaks through my shirt
I could hear her silent screams
As she tries to hold back the seething torrent
Holding on to her nerves,
She suffocates with each breath
For he had sucked out the life in her
Painfully, she groans 'Adieu my dignity'
Gone too soon, her virginity
Time and time again,
As the steady stream trickles down her face,
Her lower lip quivers
Her eyes, the colour of moss and dirt
Shoveled together
As if a black mist had settled upon her
The day bright, but the torrid sun she could not feel
The sonorous song of birds, less could she hear
Sadness, her nightingale
Tainting her joy
Inside her heart, a piercing thorn
As sharp and incisive
As the stroke of a fang
A visit to the great beyond,
Her last resort
Sharply, her pains I inhale
Sitting below my skin,
The depth of her piercing thorn
Round her thin dark hair, my hand hovers
Just to calm her intra-personal war
'Young girl', said I then to her
Brighter than the stars, the future
For the past can you change not'
Too dark, today's night
Too bright, tomorrow's sun
To wind back the hand of time
And save her day, my desire
To her, the world was lost
Off she sadly went!
Permanent joy, all but a task
Written: June 22, 2023
______________________________________________________________
Poisonous toxin flowed into my veins.
transmitting a cold, apathetic nihilism.
We stumbled off the trail, you idiotic humans.
Our once-cherished pride is broken as a prism.
Once we stood tall, our heads held high,
With hearts filled with hope and dreams,
But then came the venom, spreading through,
Tainting our souls, ripping at the seams.
The poison, akin to a serpent's bite,
Injected into our utter core,
Slowly consuming our sense of purpose,
Leaving us empty, longing for something more.
Oh, foolish humans, we were blind,
To the danger that lurked so near,
We danced with demons, unaware,
Of the venomous poison we'd soon fear.
It seeped through our veins
As a river of darkness and despair,
Draining us of joy and leaving only pain,
An emotionless nihilism, we couldn't bear.
Our once vibrant spirits turned to ash,
As the venom slowly took control,
Our laughter turned to hollow cries
Echoing through the depths of our soul.
We tried to fight, to resist its grip,
But the poison was too strong, too deep,
It wrapped around us as a suffocating shroud,
Leaving us lost, unable to sleep.
Every single day another lost soul
Fighting battles, no truth to be told.
Tears so heavy for all the lost babies.
Momma's baby, daddy's maybe,
God say a prayer for our souls
Fighting for wrongs to be made right
Praying to stay alive another night
Crooked politicians tainting our lives
The demise of God's creation
God say a prayer for our souls
Racial injustice not gone from our lives
Racism still the root of our nation
How much more can we lose
before It's too late to right the slate
the foundation of a nation
This world will not survive if we don't all love
what God created!!!
God say a prayer for our souls
I don’t need
His seed inside me
Or his or him, or their
Passion doesn’t ignite
Anything else but hate
I detest clumsy hands all over my body
Tainting what was once
All mine
I don’t need kisses to make me happy
Happiness won’t ever make up for what
I had to endure once he was gone
Left me for a weaker woman
Who would let
Things happen
Over over and over again
I cannot make love without love
Inside this soul of mine
I will not give into pressures of the teenage mind
I refuse to become a product of lust
Misuse of an emotion so strong
That it makes it more then a solitary race
More then a slippery slide of distaste, full, Action
Respect myself and me
I am pure still
After the fact and forever on
Born again in different seeing eyes
More important then the rest
My own
I am re-virginized
She only came to me when she wanted wine
Meeting at a bar could do that, tainting each meeting
I always had a bottle of her favorite wine ready
She was rich, married and miserable
But beautiful.
She had a key to my apartment
Never knocked just walks in with pain
Holding a cigarette to her mouth
Calling my darling, followed by Hi
She smelt of roses, and gun powder
What a woman.
Sip and sip and we talk and talked
Pain caress her tongue linked to hate
Hate towards him, the husband
After she stained the wine glass
With red lips, she would break them
Throwing them across the room
Loving the noise of glass breaking
We made love when they broke
Then she always leaves with little words
But leaving 200 dollars on the table.
Shelley
(The Birth of Science Fiction)
I.
Young Shelley at Eton imbibed the mystique
Of science romanticized into extremes:
He gave his poor tutor a shock and a shriek—
Electric jolt!—eliciting screams.
II.
Explosives and fire-balloons were his joy,
Chemicals tainting his fingers and arms,
Steam engine blew-up—(another mere toy).
Mad Shelley continually causing alarms
III.
His tutor named Walker is wholly forgot—
Blueprint for someone whose name we’ve all read—
Frankenstein’s prototype, likely as not,
Mixed up with Shelley in wife Mary’s head.
Devil in the Pullpit
It's Sunday service,
and there you are!
A wolf in sheeps clothing,
stalking your prey from afar.
your lambs are oblivious,
they are being led to the slaughter,
one would never suspect you,
not even your own daughter.
People are charmed,
by your style and charisma.
Little could they know,
your intentions are so dismal.
Sinister at best,
to describe your twisted plans.
Seeking out the weak,
who put their trust in your hands.
Externally seen as a "man of God",
internally, you were nothing
more than a modern
day Judas Kiss!
As you prepare your sermon,
no one has a clue;
the man who preaches salvation,
is an evil Pharisee too!
The organ begins to play,
and I feel your cold stare.
Without speaking a word,
the warning is very clear.
Proudly, you once said to me,
"Go ahead and tell if you dare.
You think someone will believe?"
You don't know the power invested in me!
I sit amid the pews,
concealing your secret.
I've held it in for this long,
but I can no longer keep it!
You are a devil in the pullpit,
a serpent among swine.
Ruthlessly carrying out satan's work,
tainting that which is Divine....
Rhapsody in Autumn
Rhapsody of colors spread sunshine of rays have bled
Falling leaves stir ahead blanketing onto grounds bed
Crimson skies sighing amidst flocking birds’ south flying
Canvased pigments complying within natures purifying
Watercolours thru walking of mosaic rainbows talking
Winter within blues mocking upon grey clouds blocking
Chilling air in breezing amongst running noses sneezing
Pies with pumpkins pleasing of ghouls hauntingly teasing
Orange painted town with camouflaging scarlet brown
All faces tainting frown Autumn of rhapsody turnaround.
...if anyone is interested, this couplet can also be read backwards.
Oct.04.2018
Vermillion Autumn Couplets
Sponsored by: Vermillion Scythe
N/A for contest
I thought I would never again see the sun greet a new day
Now I desperately wish for eternal night.
Betrayed by Newton’s law: an unforgiving justice.
The enemy,
Holding land hostage,
Tainting its innocence.
Damn them for what they made it do!
A product of the Devils hands.
Planted to be a rooted flower;
A metallic flower, waiting to bloom and fulfill its sinful purpose.
A sin that war only creates.
This day, life opened Hells gates.
Smoke, Dirt, Fire and Flesh
All mashed together to form a wretched nightmare;
A downward spiral of stained bandages and painful realizations.
My sons now stand taller from that day on,
For this new life makes me a seated man.
Who knew that one step would forever change my plans.
His betrayal is all I ponder on.
God, I wish for night, but all I’m getting are hellish days
“The future depends on what you do today.” Mahatma Gandhi
Karma lacks starts and stops, it smoothly flows
despite the weight of its countless knots.
Karma’s rewards and smacks continuously update.
Newborns arrive as fresh love, unable to best the
tainting set to trap their fresh suppressed.
While our days amass years, they unfold both tangible
and invisible fragmental life earnings.
Be it positive or negative, we all realize a return on
thoughts formed and verbally formalized.
Young children should learn thoughts mind held and
grown have persuasion capabilities that garner
fulfillment in life and / or times of strife.
We should also teach our young
to discern negative from positive
actions and what each gains in
traction towards future joy and / or pain.
Wake each morn forewarned that all you do and say
sets the stage for your future days. What each
generation of man put in motion was also absorbed
and set on course to blend with our intent for a
manifestation of the future's presentation.
and in their cold
condemning eyes ~
I am forever framed
as flawed fragments
bolted to the brutal beginnings,
oblivious to the wings of an end...
yet the intrinsic ink of my soul
knows not the art
of stirring superficial stars
~ fear not my antique antlers
caressed with copper compassion,
I am not their synonym
for emotional emptiness ~
let me breathe away
from counterfeit lies
pretending to be holier
than the highest of halos,
tainting truth with
tomb tongue-twisters
I choose to follow the rain
before the rising
of opalescent light ~
I seek streaks of sleep’s
sweet silver steam
blurring the smoke
above the veiled valley
of murky melancholy ~
traveling through the mists
of memories and magic...
I am tied to the unarmed
acceleration of alchemy,
an ambience of adoration
where poetry is resurrected ~
reconstructed amongst the
rushing resilience of rust...
I am the maternal momentum
of the mystical movers,
an unmistaken metaphor
for what sighs within the
magnetic embers
of locomotive silence,
rapidly ringing the sounds
of the sky-draped sea ~
trace this track of serene tears...
I taste time as
the ultimate revealer
of what beautifully remains ~
deep in the depths
of delightful devotion,
no longer a grey amongst
the steel of stolen secrets…
In the rising sun,
Coming down by the mountains,
Echoes the sirens of seas.
Teaming with all life
Were clouds of foul defilement
Shifting torrents to crimson...
Metal vessel floats,
Tainting with slow corruption;
Flora, fauna, disruption...
Hopeful sakura
With leaves falling, vanishing;
Whales sprawling from erosions.
Trying to forestall,
From corrosions nature squalls.
Dying, perishing pleura...
*Collaborative with J.C.M.C.*
An arthritic flesh
Hesitant wipes off deteriorated lens
Every exhale,
Another tragic sulk unto morrow’s pit
Flaunting suicidal fallacies
Off-white flag motions
Signaling mercy under liar’s duress
Muted pride
Cracking dusty knuckles
Penetration’s decrepit vowel
Slipping in between faulty, stamped licenses
Just to belong
Another back-handed waltz
Bordering beggar dialects
Untrue
Towards paradoxical epiphanies
A faceless identity
Converging amongst unwelcomed hymns
Tainting hallelujahs with discolored spit
Worming their decapitated fingertips
With equilibrium massages
Back to a barricaded oasis
Deciphers from a slanderous heretic
Proclamation of syllabic want
As arthritic flesh
Scribbles out expendable nickname
Manipulating good intentions to be sadistically validated
From their rendered nether
Nameless never inscribed a verse to call their own
Struggling to swim
In the rivers they cried
©Drake J. Eszes
Here lies the past,
Filled with regret and uncertainty.
We wonder how long the memories last;
we feel them sapping away sanity
Here lies the present,
filled with voices tempting decisions.
Tainting the blooming innocent,
With different colors for each vision.
Here lies the future,
our dreams, our hopes, our sacred desires.
All these thoughts that we have nurtured,
So that our flame burns brighter.
Here lies time, in all its mystery, marvel and excitement,
A path with regret, victory, hope and enlightenment.