Best Undermining Poems
Do you want a tear?
Do you want one of mine? I've plenty to share,
for tears pool around my heart and linger there.
Do you wish someone would shed a tear for you;
because in reality, they never do?
Do you save a tear?
Do you save a tiny tear for you alone;
all your grief stored in that drop you call your own?
Do you think your heart will carry such a weight
or break into fragments, bemoaning life's fate?
Do you fear a tear?
Do you fear you'll drown in a torrent of pain
as the tears spill from your eyes like drops of rain?
Do you believe spilling tears makes you look weak;
undermining the reputation you seek?
Do you hoard a tear?
Do you hoard a secret tear, one you won't share;
a tiny little drop you've hidden somewhere?
Do you silently shed that one single tear;
to mourn a lonely life traumatized by fear?
Audible
sounds
swimming
throughout
smoothness
...moving
dripping
refractions
bouncing
off lies
contrived
...propogation
volitionally
absorbing
waves
tinkering
acousticly
drumming
pathways
hearing
resounding
why's...
compliantly
audible
sounds
reflecting
losses...
hearing
outside
lines...
unbroken
mining...
slipping
under
surfaces
...muffing
reality
beating
...flooding
...drowning
...undermining
wavelike
reverbeating
liveliness
...surfacing
beneath
audibly
sounding
rhyming
...timing
broken
acoustically
lying
Written: October 19, 2023, For Tania Kitchen Spooky Halloween Contest
___________________________________
Hope is buried, gulping Satan of the Night.
Its odd, dreadful beats drove in schizo sight.
Sweet dread awaits the fair-headed, awful stride.
As fear drew closer, it heard the sad words abide.
They were expressionless, their bodies obeying.
Love, it's ignored—bleeding hearts break, swaying.
They recall dread and can tell a horrific story well.
A red-hot sword could lure Satan from his shell.
Haunting, poltergeists, and zombies are the core
At Halloween, they shine as murderers may abhor.
Undermining existence in horror's catacombs
Blood and mayhem are the spooky twin gnomes.
Become a demon, and I'll stay at Dracula castle.
Awaken afraid from a lucid state, scared of hassle.
Amidst a Halloween party, I was stuck in despair.
Fear remains upon me after a spooky nightmare.
Memory
I am my memory.
This piece of the world, this brief sprouting
Amongst many thinking radishes,
Exists only as resonances within
Lacy neurons; Flanders’ delicate patterns
Sustained by glial skeletons,
Beyond the spider’s web or silent
Snowflake in elegant complexity.
I am memory:
Identity, selfness, the compass of my person,
Shaped by the universe’s unknowingness
Of my reedlike form; yet I know I exist,
And know of my fate,
And of the fate of the universe,
Which is the power of my memory
And humankind’s collective memory.
I am:
And therefore recreated endlessly by my memories which,
Shallow-like, bow to my insecurities
Played out in my mind; ironically,
Feeding my own undermining,
Poignant recall of joy and bittersweet sorrow,
Given force by visceral emotion, shaping “I”
Anew, through endless rehearsal.
I:
Who is: only in relation to you, another,
My child, parent, brother, sister, a lover,
Bosom friend; like me, the sum
Of memories, which we share
And are thus part of each other,
All one, yet separate, connected
Through memory.
The memories of you fade,
Yet do not disappear, and
Give truth to my thoughts
On memory, and my identity;
Me, whom you pursued until
I caught you, and gave
Me memories happy and sad,
That shape me still..
with acknowledgements to
Blaise Pascal, William Shakespeare, Rene Descartes, Eric Kandel, John Locke, the Lace makers of Belgium....and Georgia
quick figurative brush stroke drawn out character sketch
(serendipitous verisimilitude)
i stand in awe
(with mouth agape) at elegiac, fantastic,
and graphic idyllic Kinkade magic
leaving breathlessness from craw
at such artistic talent oozing
spellbindingly, whatever
aforementioned noteworthy craftsman
doth paint or draw,
and chanced to comment
about sad affairs leaving flaw
in regard to questionable business ethics -
where press hee haw
contradicting, maligning, undermining, and jaw
boning sans said late talented mortal
engaging in sketchy traits of south paw
city when contrasted with a dog given gift -
ooh...such rah...rah...rah
when he first appeared on the scene,
where most viewers saw
utmost dynamic, fantastic, and harmonic convergence
displaying such prosaic, rhapsodic,
titanic art show events
hum...and perhaps not surprising
his illicit in dull gents presents stark contrast,
staring hypnotized as imagination invents
experiencing peaceful, restful
and tumblerful joie de vivre espying
honorable mentioned nonpareil oeuvre
that placidly rents
craving to disappear into bucolic landscape whence,
splashed upon canvass,
attempting to bat
presumed "FAKE" rumors aside as nonsense - fat
chance prevailed constituting:
deceitful, immoral, unfaithful sly kat
nocturnal antics, despite scathing attacks
(cut him down to size), niggardly praises spat
out for me, I maintain cult of personality (his)
setting Mac Book Pro wallpaper
with exemplary landscape, either authentic or copy cat.
Nestled masses as one
Not filibustering
New passive rhetorics
Not one undermining
Nurtures minds of masses
No vision left undone
Never-ending service
Faking feelings is what you do best,
undermining hope with false feelings.
And deceived by lust's many guises,
increased your vulnerability.
Fantasy divides reality
into darkening shades of despair.
And feeling all alone, you struggle,
believing that no one even cares.
Anger fuels your disappointment,
while jealousy extorts love's absence.
And truth provides little protection
from the bittersweet lies that flatter.
Sadness deflates inflated egos,
allowing time for thoughts to gestate.
Happiness cannot be chained to tears;
Love requires trust to make it real.
Spent on a splurge of self-deception;
Hope is the last treasure you deplete.
While frustration is a side effect
of dreams scuttled on the rocks of doubt.
Loneliness lies heavy on your heart,
but a smile masks the pain you're feeling.
And yet plastic smiles, like cheap jewels,
have no value, but to veil your tears.
The world in our hands would impair devils
An unthinking thought more blissful
Than a wish fulfilling shooting star
Our missions would be charted out
To go on our victory dance one step at a time
For peacefully unifying the global eye
The lines in the hand of child would be uncorroded
With the scavenging paedophiles detonated
And their gardens be filled with natural joys and play
Food for the starving would be an essentia
Hunger and water a distant call before going to bed
Appetising the poor rather than greasing over fed palettes
We would delve deep into the human vein
Gushing with a universal religion of tolerance
That binds all colours rather than undermining faiths
Gigantic deeds would keep gory bloodsheds at bay
And young valiants would keep hearts of their fair
In strongholds for inopportune cataclysms
Global warming would be of a season gone by
Aerial reforestations and seed bombs for divergent climes
Would be the neatest stuff rather than bloody nukes
A day will come when life begins once again
When dragons burn out the archetype evils and
Dying values will sprout worldwide deliverance once again
April 9, 2016
Dan Kearley
My Lover’s heartfelt tithing setting by my bedside looms.
For his comment undermining, gave a gift of Lily blooms,
but the bouquet ever blossoms off intoxicating fumes
and the blunder of my Lover unbeknownst becomes my doom….
What augurs well, perchance foretell! The Lilies shroud my tomb?
So drifting off through slumber soft my summer sloth descends
into the blue, the muddled hue before the black begins
and dreams supreme replaced by screams as Nightmare settles in.
For if I die before I wake, eternity to spend!
I pray my Love, my Soul, to take the lilies back again.
The Bohemian Grove
There is a place in San Francisco called the Bohemian Grove. It’s a boy’s club you might say. But when is the last time you saw boys offer sacrifices to Lucifer and burn bodies at the stake in honor of their loyalty to him? And when is the last time you saw a bunch of boys planning out who will run for president and for governors and then throw the elections later in their favor? This is subversion of the powers of government. This is undermining the true process of our democracy. I wonder what the American people think about people who do such vile and lewd things? I say to hell with their owl and their altar to Satan. And to hell with all the parties that they throw in honor of their king of hell. When will the children of God take a stand against this immorality? When will we wise up like their wise old owl? The Bohemian Grove is a self-serving cesspool of the vomitus of Satan. The Lord will destroy this encampment and with his mighty right righteous hand bring it to a crumbling halt!
Many of the past presidents sat around tables at this so-called club and drew cards as to who would be the next president. They would get drunk on their own power and on the power of the dragon from the bowels of hell. They had orgies and got so drunk that only the Creator knew of the lowliness of their immorality. Each person that was sacrificed upon this property had their bones buried there. Each person upon this property that was offered as a sex slave unto Lucifer’s minions was ushered to heaven as their lives were taken from them. The Lord’s compassion runs very deep for those who are oppressed and tortured for the antics of the dragon and his minions. Our God rules from a Mercy Seat and as he sits upon his Mercy Seat he delves out the most amazing mercy to those who truly need it.
The Bohemian Grove Boy’s club is really no club at all. It is the organized crime center of Satan! It’s just that simple!
Gwendolen Rix
2-15-15
ENVY ROTS
The subtle enemy called envy
silently sits at the roots of our sins
we rationalize ungodly decisions
to meet criteria- competitions we have to win
“A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones”
Compelled, we mentally reduce others
taking pleasure to mentally enlarge ourselves
constantly constrained--superior in our culture
affecting time spent on making money-- endowments
“A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones”
When does this corrosive attitude commence
impressing more than required to impress
a rat race, a treadmill undermining God-given health
refuse to invest—let your heart be at peace—rest
“A heart at peace gives life to the body, but envy rots the bones”
(Inspired by the above verse—Proverbs 14:30)
Copyright© May 2013—Kim van Breda
Night and day, a thrashing
like an invisible whiptail
surge van hail,
doth swell me bosom
excruciatingly, doggedly blackmail
capriciously be-numbingly,
aggravatingly assail
mine conscience in
what paltry pale
capacity of this gamboling male,
I can "pay forward,"
whatever means shale
be moost apropos avail
to offset bewail
ling (internal psyche doth ale
hankering) against utter
lifetime (mine) peppered
with emotional, physical
and social destitution
bereft, viz fail
ling to maximize inspiration
reverberating as vibrant detail
lacking even justa minimum
desire to live
(visa vis no way
discover ring, nope nar even
"FAKE" king minuscule appeasement
of my body, mind,
and spirit triage during)
hell...shove (shelve) aside
such gloriously noble benighted role,
amidst upending folktale
re: King Arthur and His Knights
of the Round Table
futilely searching for holy grail
where steadfast conviction
emboldens this heart and hale
spirited mindful,
sincere hard drive spurs
(neigh saying horse
sense of mine)
where ambition saddled
to air (dan sing) quailing,
yen propelling (yours truly),
with sincere humanitarian,
(i.e. blood driven)
philanthropic spiritual zeal,
I tried to unveil,
this reasonably rhyming thumbnail
sketch poetically versatile
within this spurious verse despite
any trials undermining travail
rather mine heart felt genuine
motive fueled by impetus
to contribute within e kale
logi, fizzy hollow gee, humanity,
with integrity, magnanimity,
and quality fervency,
while still adept, adroit,
agile, and alert,
(cuz America needs more lerts
to become great again)
ironically steel tougher than nails,
duh pleating ability dovetail
to bug (or wug) gee wholesale.
...Oliver had saved up the cash
to buy into his employer’s franchise,
bought his own store, aggressively courted
every rancher in the countryside.
Soon enough the cash flow was well in the black,
so Oliver and the bartender wed,
bought their own house and were soon expecting,
he cared nothing for what the people said.
Jack, still drinking, played the Hollywood scene,
was a fixture of the wild nightlife,
soon he was in the tabloids again
when he knocked up a girl he knew one night.
He managed to keep working in film,
supporting roles were the best he could get,
with alimony and child support
he found himself slipping into the red.
When he crashed his car into his front door
he was quickly shuffled off to rehab,
in what would be the first trip of many,
the addiction had a grip on him bad.
But still he managed to get some work,
and when folks saw his face on the air,
they’d look at Oliver, mumbling how,
“That brother never went anywhere.”
Now Hollywood is a hot-bed of rumors,
and a disturbing percentage are true,
soon tales spread of Jack’s early acting days,
and all the things a new actor has to do.
Rumors of giving favors to producers,
insinuations of oral sex,
some said that was why her drank so damn much,
and why relationships left him vexed.
Whatever the case, on the internet,
the rumors became an ongoing meme,
his reputation thrown in the toilet
by GIFs and infographics obscene.
Oliver, back in fair Nebraska,
really had no reason to complain,
he had three kids and sold big equipment
to half the ranchers on the Sand Hills range.
Nobody was making memes out of him,
no reporters were snooping through his trash,
tabloids were not undermining his marriage,
and he was making more than enough cash.
He had six stores and a seventh coming,
and a hundred acres tied to his home,
a life or both family and friends sincere,
the general public did leave him alone.
The only thing that could worry Oliver
was what would happen to his brother Jack?
How many stars had walked down that same road,
and how many of them had never come back?
Though Jack’s state would weight hard on his mind,
and hear feared to see him drowning in despair,
Oliver couldn’t help but laugh at the folk
who thought it was he who was going nowhere.
Arrogance fostered by entitlement
Bigotry in all its forms
Conceit beyond all reasonable norms
Demanding attitude of deferment.
Entitlement, did I mention this?
Forgetting an appointment, indeed
Goofing off on an hourly-wage job
Hearing a disapproving sarcastic hiss.
Intelligence wasted in a trivial pursuit
Junk mail! Junk mail! Junk mail!
Keeping a secret to thwart the police,
Lying to cover up a just lawsuit.
Making fun of another’s creed
Not owning up to a nasty deed.
Openly betraying a friend’s confidence
Pretending coming to another’s defense.
Quitting, leaving a job undone,
Relishing when someone is hurting,
Speaking a lie when you know the truth
Taking what isn’t yours, it’s stealing
Undermining another’s position,
Violating an avowed code of ethics
Withholding some valuable information.
X-rays indicating I have the disease
Young puppies all covered with fleas,
Zealots … spare me, O God, please!
written February 8, 2022
There is nothing worse than love except unloved.
It's unclear why I have been moved from desirable to undesirable.
An unaccountable situation not uncommon in the relationship world.
The issue that one has become uncommitted is undeniably
ungracious and unsuitable.
The fact that my possession of an individuals undivided attention
that has been replaced with uninterested and unclaimed
makes me uncertain of the existence of the love she claimed.
Am I to understand that she became uncomfortable and unconsolable?
I underestimated unbreakable. Undermining the unwilling unknowing that
the price would be the ultimate. Where was I unrelenting in my cruelty?
I find it unsearchable to see what went unchecked or what parts I left unrequited.
I'll just have to let her go so that she will be unburdened.
Better that than her being unfaithful.