Best Ugly As Sin Poems
You'll find it in the crimson eyes
of a throwaway photo somehow frozen in time.
When the past painted us like demons
with secret fury.
And you'll find it in the smell of a burning memory
like melting microfilm becoming enraged
(gifted with the freedom to deny
first appearances)
You'll find it in the cedar smoke
of Tyndale's earthen cage
roasting in a bale of hay for crimes unknown.
Where the fire of his message burned mighty
through a thousand hungry hearts that day
(where ancient ink once again
took a detour into youthful veins)
You'll find it in the velvet ash
of a (just one more) cigarette
being flippantly flicked into December sky
for reasons unknown.
Where yellowed fingernails bear witness
of freedom to live and freedom to die,
leaving not an inch of space to analyze;
for the fickle flames - much like life -
waits for no one.
You'll find it in the platinum tendrils
of a Colt 45, that so quickly took a life,
in the burning heat of an eternal second.
Where curled fingers and steady stare
makes it painfully aware
freedom is a pitiful beauty, ugly as sin,
and as right as rain
(ask the victims of Hiroshima --- they'll tell the same)
You'll find it in the vermilion sky
blazing brighter than passion pure;
stopping the world gears, of rat-race routine,
and turning a thousand rusty necks Heavenward
Where minds silently unhinge (for a moment)
And fear itself begins to cringe (for a moment)
When faced with childlike wonder
blind eyes will see.
A rejuvenating spark
this freedom can be.
And you'll find it the explosion of ecstasy
like a rose blooming in tenacious time-lapse.
You'll find it in the Cherokee midnight dance,
being warmed by the tongues of freedom personified.
Where Common Sense no longer applies,
for when freedom found his heart's desire,
you know it was a compromise.
Losing his mind, and losing his life,
in the process of a martyrdom
for all things beautiful and all things temporary,
in its earthly essence
... where freedom finds the fire,
you can't tell the difference.
Written March 23rd, 2016
For the Where The Freedom Finds the Fire Contest Hosted by Justin Bordner
She sat in her room through her Prom quite late
unfondly recalling she did not have a date
There's no one special nor had there ever been
this pretty sweet girl was born ugly as sin.
"Pretty girls are lucky, she spoke aloud
If only he'd ask, I know he'd be proud
I can smile and dance and sing him a song
I'd sure never cheat or do my man wrong!"
At the crack of dawn her phone didn't ring
Nothing to do, no not one single thing
but hope that some guy would give her a chance
To buy a Prom dress for the upcoming dance!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
All you ladies out there, you probably never had
this problem. Count your blessings....
John Merrick
Freak show fascination
Machine trauma exhumation
Have you found it?
Yes, (An awful morbid operation)
Did you see it? No.
One of the curious
Pay for a peek
Life is full of surprise's
Consider the fate
Consider the life
Torture as a spectacle
Deformed and mutated beyond reform
Rescued by sympathy
A man of faith Ugly as sin
A freak is never safe
Difference never wins
END
(inspired by the David Lynch film of the same title)
Betrayed
There is no greater shock when you discover
one whom you trusted has stabbed you secretly in the back,
no not necessarily with a physical blade
but the pain of it is just as real even though your blood it did lack.
Have you ever felt that cold blade of steel
as it pierces your unsuspecting heart from within,
usually , it is a friend or loved one of your who curses the day you were born and treats you like you were as ugly as sin.
How Jesus must have wept even though
from the start He knew who Judas was,
a liar and a thief, his heart was set to deliver to His executioners
this Precious Lamb of God from above.
Even I, myself, have ministered and prayed for such a one
only to have them turn their back on me and lie,
speaking half truths to others that I was to have spoken
until I had whispered to my Father, “Oh, Lord, just let me die”.
But then imagine, our Christ Jesus the perfect, sinless,
Son of Almighty God, sent here to die in our place,
to have one of His twelve disciples as it were
to spit in His beautiful face.
Betrayed, such a horrible thought yet most of us
proudly think, “why, I would never do that”,
but have you ever denied knowing the Lord by your words or your actions
do people know what level your faith in Him is at?
Stop at this very moment and take stock
of how you are living your life,
and if you cannot say with clear conscience I’ve not betrayed Him then ask Him to wash away every sin, for only then you’ll be ready when you die.
Written by: Marilyn Jennings
Betrayed
There is no greater shock when you discover
one whom you trusted has stabbed you secretly in the back,
No not necessarily with a physical blade
but the pain of it is just as real even though your blood it did lack.
Have you ever felt that cold blade of steel
as it pierces your unsuspecting heart from within,
Usually , it is a friend or loved one of your who curses the day you were born
and treats you like you were as ugly as sin.
How Jesus must have wept even though
from the start He knew who Judas was,
a liar and a thief, his heart was set to deliver to His executioners
this Precious Lamb of God from above.
Even I, myself, have ministered and prayed for such a one
only to have them turn their back on me and lie,
speaking half truths to others that I was to have spoken
until I had whispered to my Father, “Oh, Lord, just let me die”.
But then imagine, our Christ Jesus the perfect, sinless,
Son of Almighty God, sent here to die in our place,
to have one of His twelve disciples as it were
to spit in His beautiful face.
Betrayed, such a horrible thought yet most of us
proudly think, “why, I would never do that”,
but have you ever denied knowing the Lord by your words or your actions
do people know what level your faith in Him is at?
Stop at this very moment and take stock
of how you are living your life,
and if you cannot say with clear conscience I’ve not betrayed Him
then ask Him to wash away every sin, for only then you’ll be ready when you die.
Written by: Marilyn Jennings
i never saw the doornail die
never caught sight of a fox that sly
i didn't cure a dog so sick
didn't steal a glance of thieves so thick
i can't walk tight a rail that thin
can't see some sight as ugly as sin
i didn't ever take any punch so pleased
or been flashed by lightening that slippery greased
i can't light bituminous coal so black
or pointedly aim as sharp as a tack
didn't touch a witch's tit so cold
- i'd feel it's not as good as gold
i can't squish in any mud so clear
or finger a lobe cute as a bug's ear
folks shout i'm as deaf as a post
in fact i'm even worser, than most
i can't hear a fiddle so fit
in fact i don't give a - damn
a simile is as cool as winter's rain
so i utter them like, again, and again
true, i'm as buzzed as a bee so busy
but i don't think a bee's like a simile, is he?
© Goode Guy 2013-03-06
There's a face beside my mother-in-law's mole
It even tries to talk to me
I think the face has taken control
That poor mole's in misery
Side by side like siamese twins
But the mole is kind cute
The face however is as ugly as sin
Like some kind of infected root
That mole needs to get that face removed
It's a cancer with really bad breath
It's hidieous with hair everywhere
And it scares small children to death
A mole can be called a beauty mark
But that face no beauty is found
It looks like somebody dug it up
Like a corpse deep under ground
Now I'm not saying my mother-in-law's ugly
Even though that's what I said
I just wish my wife's mother
Could be that mole instead
Every Spring they march relentless
ugly as sin and almost scentless
My well-groomed lawn devastated
annual ambitions again frustrated
'Cos' 'Wendell's Weed Killer' didn't work
though highly touted by expert jerks
At $65 a bag, the stuff wasn't cheap
with joy I sowed, in tears I reaped
But not to worry, I'll pick a bouquet of 'Dandy Lions'
for my wife next Sunday ~ 'With Love from Brian'
There's a face beside my mother-in-law's mole
It even tries to talk to me
I think the face has taken control
That poor mole's in misery
Side by side like siamese twins
But the mole is kinda cute
The face however is as ugly as sin
Like some kind of infected root
That mole needs to get that face removed
It's a cancer with really bad breath
It's hidieous with hair everywhere
And it scares small children to death
A mole can be called a beauty mark
But that face no beauty is found
It looks like somebody dug it up
Like a corpse deep under ground
Now I'm not saying my mother-in-law's ugly
Even though that's what I said
I just wish my wife's mother
Could be that mole instead
"Quit making that face"
Mama would say,
"It's gonna get stuck
and stay that way"
"Now eat your peas,
like you've got some sense,
"Go brush your teeth
and make sure you rinse"
"Close that door,
was you raised in a barn?
"I heard what you said,
you better mean darn"
"Do as I say,
and not as I do,
"Go comb your hair,
what's wrong with you?"
Well, forty years later,
I'm as ugly as sin
Not a tooth in my head,
with peas on my chin
I cuss like a sailor,
my house is a dump
No hair on my head,
like a bald Forest Gump
I could have been normal,
but I chose this instead
Just because I didn't listen,
to what my Mama said
I have seen Medusa
She's as wicked as can be
She never utters a single word
She just sits and stares at me
Her hair looks like a nest of snakes
Her eyes a piercing red
She's already turned my heart to stone
And my mind is almost dead
Her smile looks like she's constipated
You know, that I need exlax grin
I think she was the serpent of Eden
Cause she sure is as ugly as sin
Many men have tried to tame her
A dangerous journey to embark
But now they're covered with pigeon poop
Like a statue in the park
This could be my final poem
That's written on my own
For the next time I see my mother-in-law (Medusa)
I'll surely be turned to stone
The pain inside me
I don't know how to face it
I want it all to turn black
So I can't feel anymore
Feelings only bring me to the brink
Of a lost and lonely death
Nobody knows how black my soul is
I'm a devil masquerading as man
Inside I'm as ugly as sin
A truth so hard to face
Sometimes I wonder if I even know myself
These scars adorn my soul
And I etch them into my flesh
Just to make sure I still feel
Because nothing is as real
As the pain I feel inside
I used to fear death
But now I welcome the cold embrace
If only so I feel nothing
They say anguish is temporary
But it's all I've known for 10 years
So I can't feel anymore
I want it all to turn black
I don't know how to face it
The pain inside me
Where Elegant Elite Do Meet Defeat
There are always those elegant elite,
Who are in White House we may met;
In thick and thin,
Always ugly as sin;
Defeat purpose and repeat and repeat.
Jim Horn