Best Turpitude Poems
Sweetened dung is shoveled down
gluttonous throats with eager appetites for
alleged misdeeds skillfully spun
into a frenzy of sensationalized hype
by media-seasoned reporters.
.
Seduced by speculation and hearsay,
a jury of pseudo-intellectuals assembles
neatly with moral turpitude tied
smug and tight around rigid white collars
stained heavy with sweat and anticipation.
She stands alone as the eyes of
the court pierce through her appraising
her posture and expression while
the echo of charges being read dissipates
with the smell of type ink and old mahogany.
Fragments of truth embellished
for shock-value and dramatic effect
spill forth as vomit
from confessional mouths
reeking of rot and fermentation.
Vulturous prosecutors rise in fluid
motion squawking accusations in
expert execution of closing arguments,
pecking apart flesh, unconscionably
scattering the meaty bones of her defense.
"I wandered lonely as a cloud" -- William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a life
bereft of joy by reason’s cloud
to sling invective like a scythe
from perched on high, lofty and proud.
Naught from my lips but bile and scorn,
delight extinguished, long since shorn.
Imprisoned by my intellect,
I held my neighbor in disdain,
the simpletons who genuflect,
lift voice in praise to gods inane.
Devoid of purpose, meaningless,
inflicting pain, I caused distress.
Ensconced in fog, truth thus eludes,
for nothing blinds like one’s own will,
prolongs the moral turpitude,
bolstering self yet further still.
The darkness bears an evil grin,
a putrid corpse, lest dawn breaks in.
But worlds come crashing down, of course.
A penetrating shaft of light
that sears at first, causes remorse,
illumines one’s desperate plight.
A warmth then flushes on the face
by blood reborn, restored by grace.
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for the I Wandered Lonely as --- Challenge Poetry Contest
sponsored by Natasha L Scragg
written on 09/18/2022
Are you in the mood
for a poem about food
Something marinated, dude
or grilled, barbequed
Tangentially:
Have you ever viewed
a painting in the nude
Meaning (if you're shrewd)
that you are no prude...
And would you ever collude
or possibly intrude --
wade into a family feud
a cesspool of moral turpitude
Back-on-Track:
Is your gastromo-palate imbued
with delights that include
a smorgasboard of seafood
dainty caviar, finger-lickin'-good
I am trying to relate to the strategy of rhyme,
Using words to titillate from the droll to the sublime.
Do I write "a rime that scintillates" to describe a ghost
Of frost? I consult the information highway hosts
Who assimilate rhyme-chimes on internet dot coms,
Those prime verse doctors granting aid so poems do not bomb.
I'll create a word-dance show to equate a tango's flow,
So solitude and fortitude and quietude must glow!
These multitudes of disciplines provost my attitude;
Will you, for faulty demeanor, please grant me latitude?
My aptitude to mutilate (a crime I must not boast.)
Is like a marmalade of brine upon my morning toast.
I ventilate and, then, deflate my inmost certitude;
This grime will grow in plenitude, a naughty turpitude.
I'd rather ev'ry word I post would jubilate the coasts,
Mime the scent of thyme about each lyrical outpost.
This roast of rhyme will blow ego and have me eating crow
If I don't quickly disappear, you know, vamoose and go.
© Faye Lanham Gibson, June 10, 2014
Our Shame,
"PRESIDENT" & "LEADERS"
Full grown men,
old,
devoid of vision,
Lacking in wisdom,
wicked weaklings
protected by paltry paid gun men
great grandfathers,
unwilling to train Younger Leaders.
Untrained themselves in morals & reputation,
Liars,
Tired & fickle in frame,
feeble. opaque, lacking imagination,
These exalted clowns,
drawn from rickety defeated military,
All but a weak one from the creek.
Gangsters,
Elevated as Presidents,
or Governors and Leaders,
We are Trapped,
fooled by cynosure of degenerate,
immoral men, destinies robbers,
watching the drowning of a once rich Giant.
confined felon,
demented through age
rogues as Presidents, Senators, Governors,
Protected by corrupt Police
and a demystified compromised Army,
Oppressive DSS, Abusive servants of the masses,
robbing the future of unborn kids,
denying all in the midst of Plenty,
shaming us all.
We have no Leaders Yet.
None since 1960.
Profligate band of men,
overtaken by fraud & moral turpitude,
A merry-go-round by failures,
sixty Plus years after Muzungu,
Illiterates still in charge of our destinies,
Despised in Ghana
scorned in Zambia
Overtaken by Ethiopians
locked out by Botswana
Denied by Rwanda
disgraced in Libya
Mocked in South Africa
Bared in sane countries
where corruption is an indelible blot,
incarcerating the guilty away from sane men.
These crooked Old recycled Failures,
Destroyed, ruined and damaged destroying still.
unwilling to retire in their dishonour,
Killing, abusing and incarcerating Young men who dares tyranny.
A former Giant,
Now a Crawling Giant of Africa,
Beggarly borrowing amidst plenty.
Over two hundred million divided mass,
waiting for “godot” .
procrastinating liberty for fear and docility
A country of Countries Ruined by Military men
masquerading as democrats through tyranny
A Cancer in Africa.
after the sky drops.
The walking corpses come out
the veil of night masks
the decay
the rot
of humanity
Plague of the earth.
Found from the ashes
My phoenix we bled
Has she ever
thought love between
us, inside
her, filled up an empty bed.
No longer bereft,
somnolence
and love drowns my head.
Convalescent
Bemire emotion
I wash and rinse
what is left,
asking what we are
if no longer
dead?
Gold from lead.
The lifting sky
Our connubial affair.
The truths, I face,
we share,
She Said.
"when will it die?"
closing empty space
A diffident devotion
Within her embrace
a softly recited
poem unread
berceuse
tantric lullaby
healing the blighted
fading destiny to refuse
to claim or to lose.
An onus I malinger..
to choose.
Execration
of an inner fatalist
hopeless abuse.
Quantum entanglement
schismatic resentment
prepossessed
inspiring muse
of the alchemists
A bibulous creation
intimate turpitude.
sovereignty
asunder this hell
her orbit with abaddon.
Dissolution
her need to dispel
incertitude.
Inordinate.
Gravity well
collapsing in on itself
eternal
infinite
end
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CONSTRUCTIVE FEEDBACK, (pos. or neg.) CRITIQUES, OR ANY SUGGESTIONS
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Clad in his double-breasted royal toga
Filled of nothing but pride and anger
His face as grim as a Pallbearer’s
His gaze dreadful and fearful like that of
A raging rattlesnake about to strike
His eyes crackling charcoal fire-red
His dancing tummy under his “Agbada”
Reminds me of a dancing Porcupine
He paces round his palace
A house built on a Rock in the Niger-Area
He fumes and puffs like a spitting Cobra . . .
“My eyes of pity had gone blinded
Only those of nakedness built on wickedness
Shone in my vibrating Golgotha
Let no man speak of hunger with anger
For I find people not scavenging on the garbage
Let no one talk of thirst in a haste
For our River Niger is like that of River Marah
It brings only taste of grouchiness and sullenness
Let men in the Niger-Area speak not of hoarding of food
For Farming is the only way to more days of famine
Speak not of hike in the Oil from our ground
For its very dear in the other neighbouring lands
Rejoice my people for the benevolence have shown you
I shall rule and rule forever till there are people to rule no more”
Our King is indeed insane for sanity left him long ago
A vivaciously looking Chimpanzee in the Niger-Area Forest
A chirpy Chimera of the Black Race, unto him I bow piously
I have impatiently listened to his drunken fits of eloquence
My king smells like a gouard of wine full of petulance
As I bore the sting of his unrivaled drunken ribaldry
I weep for a King who is as old as Methuselah
I wonder whether he had ever smell childhood
For he looks as if he had always been old from
The very scaring day he was let out of his Mother’s womb
His Majesty old and worn out like a dry hell
Let him run into the Market with nakedness on his head
Let our people beat and stone insanity out of him
Let the people in the Niger- Area Arise and thread
Like the Strong and the Mighty with history of Victory
And arrest our oppressors and other fanatical Kingpins
And let them be taken like urchin for their tyranny
And turpitude has attained untold heights
Alayande Stephen .T
5th December, 2005
12.45pm
Conceptualized after the furore of OBJ’s
Third term bid for continuity of hunger ,
Anger and excruciating Poverty for mass of the people.
A heartfelt generosity removes all turpitude.
Turning into an angelic beast,
Here is the ugly Narcissist....
For others! She cared least,
Here's the ugly Narcissist.
When the plot of life got revealed,
She had a role to lead.
Sanguine She, was now so turbid,
Like Sophocles! Hard to get rid.
But it doesn't end here! still some to indite,
the lost rhyme and a will to fight.....
With a lesson, not to hold it with Arms,
Took birth a new Epigram.
Arrival of an elate metre of vicissitude,
came a wave of valedictory for turpitude.
She breathed out of that tearful cyst....
Citherns and Citoles singing "You! No more a Narcissist".
Coffining the corpse of heart,
She ambled on a new start.
Towards Quibla!! Hearkening to a Dole above,
reached a Kingdom, with the blind wind's shove.
On the Schrezo of Hyades,
Condoning the satyr envoy of bliss.
In the elfin's grot ! To meet Her,
Came someone, with a Scepter.
I fly out of my lair
to land in your hair
You brush me off
as if I weren't there
Yet now you're infected
though you've not suspected
corona flu injected
no symptoms detected
You've invaded my home
stripped the land of my food
I'd have left you alone
'cept for your turpitude
Of rural China we speak
and the West, it does shriek
regarding sinister plots
but that's all for naught
For as you too encroach
on habitats you poach
from skunks, 'coons, and mice
Please know that head lice --
will seem mighty nice
compared to the plagues
that are heading your way
in a trice
Sacrificial, the non-closure of gecko eyes, and counts the lines
Drawn of rain and neon on my window’s negative plate;
In restless turpitude, nervous sanction, switch flicked
The jumpstart at the cone of shadows,
And, lost, reminisce of never talking to strangers,
Or walking miles in crooked execute.
Time is marked and futile redemption sought
And crucified without a smile.
Displeasure, shop-soiled at the morning light; deeper disdain at
The eventide collapse, dislike implicit of anything at all.
The emptiness, chill and hollow skin scratched the
Lowest fibre as it started to creep and crawl..
Nothing, never, ever can reach me in the back of beyond,
The dead chrome washer of my broken heart.
The point at which the dark phallus violates daylight
Is the crippling point at which I start.
God, for it was He, saw me angelically wrecked, and trod
My sure-fire halo in the dirt of indecision, of swampland.
And I, sickened by absolution, wanting to tear, split,
Shred, splinter apart the vestment of my soul and reject
Understanding, love, for brimstone and bygones suit me just fine.
Still, boiling in the heart of darkness, pearls cast before
Swine, my unfathomable superficial waters run surface deep
And it seems only the Devil and I may never sleep.
During election and after, buzzwords loud and clear, brags loud and clear,
the motherer lumps all milestone feats into his merits sphere,
as if to the national pantheon he had already drawn near.
Still one declarable thing we never hear: his tax sheets of every past year, the wrappings of all his enormities that would cost U.S. dear.
Financial duty in arrear, functional duty in arrear, still flourishing his racketeering career.
Necropolis for nation's needs, necropolis for ecumenic creeds,
what holds true of the campaign he leads? Cradle for criminal lawyers of top seeds.
Professional golf-putter grabber by day, senior girl's pussy grabber by night,also, from time to time he has fake news to fight.
State affairs? Simply slither along the way he haphazardly flies a kite.
Major resources his family hold, quite some key positions his myrmidons hold,
checks and balances dim, nepotism and cronyism bold.
Never mind materials about his turpitude in foreign agencies' hold,
'cause all these just left many in a position cold.
America's values and virtues, to him, nothing but a strumpet,
he sets out to strip it and dump it----neither like it nor lump it----
while bombastically blowing his blatant "MAGA" trumpet.
Life commodities dwindle sheer, feelings of safety disappear,
proliferating are gun gears and campus fear.
Horrible? No! No control measures take effect under his deaf ear.
With obscurantism in compliance, with demagogism in compliance. To literature and science ? His defiance.
With racism in compliance, with sexism in compliance. To irenics and euthenics? His defiance.
Jude
Jude was shrewd.
Jude was shrewd with turpitude.
Shrewd Jude with turpitude had a bad attitude.
Shrewd Jude with turpitude and a bad attitude moved to another latitude.
Shrewd Jude with turpitude and a bad attitude moved to another latitude and a longitude.
Shrewd Jude with turpitude and a bad attitude who moved to another latitude and longitude developed lassitude.
Shrewd Jude with turpitude and a bad attitude who moved to another latitude and longitude and developed lassitude discovered crude.
When shrewd Jude with turpitude and a bad attitude who moved to another latitude and longitude, developed lassitude and discovered crude,
he was confronted by the IRS and got screwed.
While we dwell to this dreidel,
I seek to know before a sear,
Even in the most ineluctable dandle,
The fruit to which may indeed bear;
In the imbue oblivion, I tell a riddle,
Most morass yet merely in fear,
For the sake of fiduciary wheedle,
Let me share with you my compadre,
The reason for this lachrymose!
We seek solace, I seek a motley,
Of a jejune yet quite leonine__
I’m carrying a huge cornucopia;
__And the temerity to extirpate
The gloaming quiddity, the fireflies.
With my cries not perceptible;
And this sandbag is too heavy a burden;
The earthquake of demands,
With the hallucination of needs,
Have starved my conscience Mekeba!
For I do not come to you by chance,
By chance found you in my utopia.
To be a man calls for a hybrid of habits,
The fluctuation which efface intrinsic,
Hapless of a jaded impaired grift.
To be a suitable snitch in the sight,
Of your serene pugilism with skylark,
A batty revelation of chains of choice!
An honest opinion of soft sips.....
A turpitude scent of petals niche,
The jurassic meld of mundane’s prig.
In my desolate the burning throbs,
The anxiety to revert my paunch,
The antithesis of the flamboyant story;
The entangled facts from the realities
This is the precarious situation smelling,
Around the jungle with fear or shame.
The ornery of your aesthetic breach,
And they vaunted to a great suffice,
Tales of a teller telling them in a folktales.
Everyone with his own dilemma;
In the gamut of this conjecture,
Who will help me muster this burden?
I have reached the dovetail for perfection
For I’m no longer a peer, so I see different,
From the way I saw ages ago in oblique.
This pot of inferno has exploded and this fire,
The inscrutable fire has engulfed my head,
I’m burning in clandestine fray....
I’m in moribund and so I bloviate for help,
In this helpless world that help only the dead!!.
He was clamored dead!
Without being stabbed,
Without being poisoned,
Without being sick:
The angels' arch summoned him
To see the Heavens and Hell
And samples of judging the just and the unjust.
He was diabolical in deeds!
Defining himself to be the Sun that shines
The comments proved he deserved such a decampment.
“Sing! the snob who did us turpitude has travelled," they retorted at the scene.
His body was demanded for a quick burial
But a few prayed to wait it till the next sunup.
The eyes of revenge were gravely opened!
Then, at down, in the sixth hour,
The heavenly bodies and hemispheres implored for an amnesty of chance
And Gabriel gave heed to their plea
Charging him to be reputable.
At mercy the masterful soul revisited its flesh
It behoved him to repair the very engine of his life.