Best Vomit Poems
Inside is his MIND that's riddled full with mental illness,
Hides intellectually supreme being filled with logic, intelligence and great genius.
His sorrow is that a man, one full of mankind's afflictions, anguishes, and tears.
The subconscience keeps the burden of all the lives lived throughout many hundredstudents of thousands of years.
At his core is a centered compassion, a wisdom, a perception, and the ability of an EMPATH.
He feels the emotions of others, understanding the fullness of grace in each little wrath.
The feelings are clarified in words delivered through the LYRIC and POEMS of his blood pen.
A troubadour is within him, as is all the souls of lives he lived over and again.
Building his temple, with the tools of honesty, forgiveness, and patience that is grand.
A foundation built through pain that's strengthened with in him for his towers that will forever stand.
A conscience that gives mankind a gift of their happiness before his own.
Debilitated mind illness overpowers his decisions by emotions alone.
Contradicting bliss with meaningless aspirations with mindlessness and reasons with uselessness.
His is the pain self indulged by the mayhem that blinds then binds worthlessness.
And still his minds genius allows him to know then learn all that he touches with an ease to maintain.
For he is about the thing you fail within the contradiction of salvation.
The Stain of Death
Going into that terrible place
A living dust-bin, black bags
With clothes and books inside
No sign of individuality
Packs and stacks of anonymity
Nothing there to define her personality
But a big stain of vomit on the inside of the toilet
There she made her mark in her last hours
Nothing else in her house of horrors that lets you know
She ever lived there
And even that vile stain is only a sign that
She died there
Some people in life suffer from an affliction,
Imaginary highbrows with an oratorical addiction,
These people seem healthy at first, the sickness under control,
But then the silence is broken as they begin to speak,
And this grammatical illness starts to take its toll,
Tempers are lost and stomachs become weak,
As heads start to pound and eyes begin to roll.
I’ve been there he says, I’ve done that,
I can do that faster than you,
I’ve lived and learned far beyond my years,
Of course what I am saying is true!
I am a big thinker. I am what they call legit,
No I don’t know what non compus mentus is,
And I really don’t care if you think I have too much of it.
I am impressed with myself, Why am I not yet insane?
Since being around an opinion such as yours IN FACT,
Has caused MY train of thought to jump the track.
This conversation has definitely turned south,
Silence is the right thing to do,
Please be quiet! Close your mouth!
You’re getting your opinion all over my shoe.
Your trying to put words in my mouth
feels pretty barfy to me
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
just so ya know
......dribbles down my chin
a fight against vodka.....
.....i didnt win
The ancients honored you in their cultures
Mythology crowned Jataya, King Of Vultures
Obligate scavengers, you conduct your foray
Toward putrid carcass of what will be your prey
Dead bodies, prairie dogs, rodents, wild boars
Insatiable eclectic pallet opens many doors
Vomit, your defense, your uric acid searing
Hunched backbone, broadened wingspan so fearing
Here they soar, the vultures who seldom kill
Just scouting about for their carrion meal
It's a sick world.
Men of power,
greed, and cunning.
Vomit!
Banal and sophomoric,
evil men;
ohhhh such vile, vile, vile men.
Vomit!
Arrogant,
cantakerous,
cruel and callous men.
Vomit!
May they drown,
in blood,
in the blood of angels,
and vomit, vomit, vomit!
DO DON’T, WILL, WON’T
We were wandering, we were lost
Four who knew not the route out of a maze
Other’s blood upon our hearts was there embossed
Never to forget a dead man’s glaring gaze
Once, twice and then one becomes numb and void
While death becomes birth’s ally and partner in crime
Some may swear and some become annoyed
But we all got high as if all we had was time
Each time a dealer hands you a bag you never know
While my desperation and neediness ever grew
Each time a dealer hands you a bag you feel your habit grow
And to ignore that fact is what some junkies opt to do
I, on the other hand swore that I would not die’
For careful was I about who and where I’d go
If I didn’t know the dealer I wasn’t getting high
Because rat poison is cheaper than lactose, that much I know
Some dealers feel a junkie’s angst and desperate needs
As that junkie grows more fearsome in a sordid sort of way
Both dealers and junkies are forced to do some desperate deeds
Yet out of four poor wanderers I’m the only one still alive
© 2011.….Poefree
When the oceans
Swallowing some orphans
And
Vomit them
At the boundaries.
Yoh!
Don't laugh
Loud.
Because they can
Still be alive
By the miracles
Of Yahweh God.
Their parents were innoncently killed ,
went to rest in peace with God.
Yoh!
This world ?
Number of orphans encrease rapidly
As many parents continue to be killed
In some parts of this planet earth.
We embarked upon a voyage
across the stormy Irish sea
The ship’s known as the ‘vomit comet’
please don’t throw up if you sit next to me!
I can cope with dirty diapers
and don’t baulk at the sight of blood
but when it comes to dealing with vomit
I’ll confess that I’m no bloody good!
Written after a short break in the UK
9/24/18
Triple cointreau not a good idea.
I read books before they are thrown on the fire.
Leviathan and Iliad
Good books sometimes seem bad.
This land I inhabit not a place I want to be.
A desperate odyssey set for home.
Vodka and a redbull so disgusting.
Everyone I meet so distrusting.
Idle in a dream I sit.
Disparaged of a life that I skit.
A divine misery I write and live.
And in Inferno I die.
As silently I lie.
Sleep takes me
Sleep takes me.
Sleeping.
Silently.
my neighbor's vomit
I hear the liver cancer
her window to mine
I had a neighbor and we lived one in her trailer and me in mine. My wife lost to liver and breast cancer and I know what cancer does, you vomit. Robert Spiess said VOMIT was too strong, but he published it and it was selected as BEST OF ISSUE FOR A SENRYU in Modern Haiku. Robert Henry Poulin
I feel to vomit
Rushed to the hospital
The output is full of blood
But it is a rare group
Not of mine
The same group of our Mayor
Oh emotional
projectile vomit!
Regurgitation
spewing all over,
sick to my stomach;
It makes no sense
feeling angry;
Nothing I did,
it’s not on me;
May the weight
you carry
reveal all;
Giving
nothing
shows.
Thinks he’s all that plus a pound of sugar.
I would not trade him for a nose bugger.
See the weird reindeer Comet?
He makes me want to vomit.
He’s dating another seasoned cougar.