Confiscating Poems | Examples

Sean Combs

If you live inside a glass house then don't throw stones
or put cameras in your home when you live like Sean Combs
some people got it backwards catch them operating drones
filming all their parties should be confiscating phones

Decoding

Questions are proliferating,
people search for answers
in old pants pockets
in long discarded purses.
The scampering feet of baby philosophers
can be heard from the moon.

The media is stymied, they are manipulating,
confiscating and hiding behind the backs
of massively overgrown ballers,
willy-nilly they scribble an alternative reality
upon indoor swimming pools.

The manic mayhem of our daily grind
is wearing our hair thin,
Somebody should take control of the truth,
but it keeps dodging questions
and slamming doors behind it.

Mark my words with invisible ink,
scratch a cat behind its ears,
somersault all you like
but we are all getting overrun
by imperfect pontifications
by the indecent Doctors of spin.

and all this endless self-questioning
keeps replying over and over again
but only in unbreakable code.

Absolution

On the the brink of change
Vague yes but rearranged 
At the edge but with a grin
Not some grim hypocrisy 
It might seem like a phase
You said "Grow up and act your age!"
But I reciprocated
While you elated, confiscating 
I may not seem enraged
But the seam has burst this rotting cage
And now I've been unleashed 
Only to see that I can breath
Insanity's cold touch 
Has softened up this bleeding crutch
To gain a new perspective 
Convey to you I've had enough

Blizzard In the July-

Tropical Frozen warm
Dust particles flow
It's a hundred and four degrees
The atmosphere freeze
The Sun is bright yellow
There are no other colors
Has it rained in 15 days
Clouds have evaporated
Sparkle passion bright
Confiscating the darkness
Devastation proximation
The end of life
Genocide nuclear blast
Mankind cries
Hope dies
No clouds the rain has gone 
Dust in the air blizzard in July~ 

6/19/20
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr

Absolute Love

I found you within the 
darkened corners of my mind 
Controlling my very thoughts 
flowing through my being 
Imprinting upon me as no other
Confiscating my dreams 
each night guarding them 
from nightmares 
leaving nighttime fantasies 
of you and I 
Visions of such tender sweetness 
watching our bodies flow 
with the fluidity of unflurling silk 
as our passions fulfill each fantasy 
My essence cries out to yours 
Resistance so weak yet beautiful
Yearning anxiously awaiting 
for those dreams to become reality
So until that day comes 
I will love the nighttime where 
we two rendezvous 
to share our deep absolute love
It's within my nighttime's 
I feel a peace and I can 
truly feel complete joy
Because all I need in my life is 
...YOU!


1st place in Brian Strands contest
1/27/2020

Entree

Translucent juices flow 
forth with each syllable, 
every moan,
 a heightened affair, 
every groan
a chance for repair,
We've made reparations
reading independent declarations
knowing we are free 
but always a slave to this.
Touching you ever so subliminally
you becoming more
 friend than enemy
confiscating all your energy
You hate the way I do this to you
Every word 
 your body devours,
Ordering from my menu
requesting, "Desire
on desire with a large diet
desire to drink." 
Go ahead, 
let me taste your reply like 
 Me, Oh, we, 
Oh my...
You've been quite
the surprise

Joint

When my wife found my pot, she thought it was tea.
And her employer fired her after he made her pee.
My dad caught me when I smoked my very first joint.
He blistered my buttocks, he wanted to make a point.
He also gave me a lecture about how dope users never win.
The next week he caught me smoking pot and he blistered my butt again.
When he was done, my butt was bright red.
He spanked me so hard that my butt bled.
He thought that I'd quit because twice I was caught.
He thought that I'd stop smoking weed but I did not.
I no longer pay for marijuana because I grow my own.
The cops just found it and I'll lose all that I've grown.
The cops are confiscating my crop and they're arresting me.
I'll see you in ten years because that's when I will be set free.

(This is a fictional poem and I believe that smoking marijuana is wrong.)

Monomaniacal Mist

Monomaniacal Mist

I am the finite of the infinite for the shadows bleed my presence
My habitual hunger is imminent and toxicant time is of the essence
Like the serpent swallowing sorrows slithering to sanitize your soul
In view of marauding morrows whispering winds wavering console

As a malodorous mist, I appear a demi-god of recyclable tangled time
A fallen angel fostering fear bringing forth a new pernicious paradigm
I come within denigrative dreams a diabolical debacle demanding end
A Svengali of silent screams an oblivious organism that will transcend

A jaded jackal conjured by the broken hearts withering to their demise
The grotesque genie that departs only to enslave before it’s downsize
I am the confiscating conqueror of night banishing your barren breath
Like a fallacious futile frostbite a feculent frozen fire ... for I am death.





April.03.2018
The Life of Death
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen

The End

Tonight my inner demons escaping trying to take control, my depression making me cower, that devil, he on a role, I’m trying to fight but I’m smothered with them breathless sighs, suffocating within, saying I’m fine, when I know that’s a lie, everyday alive I’m drowning in pool of pain, screaming into my pillow, nails sunk in, as I go insane, memories are just a constant reminder of what I’ve done wrong, I’ll continue to make mistakes, so I’m better off gone, they just watch me burn as my mind clouds up with smoke, sit & laugh at my pain, as if it’s a joke, fakes smiles & laughter, they make for a great disguise, time to say my prayers & wipe the tears from my crying eyes, I’m tired of acting with such disgruntled behavior, watch me lay it to rest in the hands of my lord & savior, my body confiscating the abuse, can you ease the pain, I apologize to all but the only thing left is for these wings I’ll gain.

Poems Are Definately Democratic

Poems Are Definately Democratic

My poems definitely did become democratic;
While hearing Trump raising so  much static;
Commotion caused,
With his small paws;
Being terrible had been his biggest tactic.

Trump has not only confiscating the clover,
He sure had been  screwing all of  us over;
Sunny and bright;
No not tonight,
And even is an obvious orange hair grower.

Trump skinned a coon and made into a cap,
And trouble  he caused is all  over the map;
To north ponted;
Finger disjointed;
Still has been learning how to cut the crap,

Jim Horn

An Argument

When the mind's disease is hate,
it flows through veins unchecked.
I'm just a voice in the midst of darkness, striking a match.
A light for minds seeking refuge from storms,
to lift a crying child above the swollen stream,
that may sweep us away.
People are angry, the Earth shakes, lightning flashes, 
a child cries, crowds move as rivers, 
their murmuring sounds become louder.
Confusion fills cups they carry, fear fills lung's every breath,
between rage and reason.

Demons rise to shackle the fragile soul,
bringing evil from those claiming purity.
Frightened hearts beat louder at the source,
bubbling from wells of self-righteousness,
marching in step with flags unfurled,
demanding all follow their graveled path.
A scythe they wield sweeps, cutting the marrow of all who question.
The multitude moves swiftly, confiscating freedom in freedom's name.
Who dare stands, to lift the crying child from the crowd's grasp?
Giving hope, from madness. as the stalk of democracy burns brown,
withering from a drought of common sense.
While a mob demands to rule.

Cupid Arrested By the Fun Police

He learnt to fly when he was a child, 
Darting throughout the air.
Shooting through crowds, leaving everyone happy, 
At the country fair.

Shooting people in their belly, back and their legs, 
With his small little love tipped dart.
Leaving them with a crush, a brand new love,
In their beautiful heart.

And then the local fun police arrived, 
With insurance to run the carnival.
They saw him, caught him, held him down, 
Confiscating his arsenal.

The fair is now safe, no one will be shot, 
No loving, no dreams, and no dance.
And today Cupid’s on the airport runway line, 
To holiday on the tower in France.

Gentle Fervor At Rest

A pharmacon was not be, God saw you confiscating drowsy

He mantled him in his loving arms and whispered come with me 

The Family has minus one gentle fervor and heaven one angel more

Fathomless in my heart  your memory is kept of one i admired and shall never obliterate 

Oh! The duress of life; death which has taken you away and impeded me to see you no more 

And has made a veracious soul at composure 

You fell asleep without goodbye but memories of you will always stay

Thank you for the foothold,  care and love

I will miss you!

Camouflaged Love

~*~

Alluring veil of ebony lace
slumbering silently, masking tired eyes

Confiscating vehemently
every tear she cries

Words whispered from a forked tongue
gasping for a breath of disgrace

Jealousy of ghost past 
nothing left, but to hide her face

Lies rip into the pages of her book
promises broken, left in dismay

The hues of pretty photographs
fade subtly away

Camouflaged love, encase in your denial and envy
bitterness surging through every vein

Damaged now, defective
she'll never be beautiful again. 

~*~

Who Will Free My Soul

WHO WILL FREE MY SOUL?

Criticism and sarcastic words is all i hear,
Nobody ever appreciates my efforts.
Failure and fiasco is all fear,
Inspiration derived doesn’t seem to comfort.

Mask I put won’t conceal my pain.
Favors made, countless I pray.
I’m being controlled like horse’s rein.
To my oppressors, I am a prey.

Torturing my body will not tame,
The deeds done won’t reveal my compassion.
To go down this way will only embrace my name.
But who ought to test my oppression?

My character resembles a fragment,
Nothing to reform to, my incarnation unknown
Broken inside diversify my temperament,
When I die, will I reincarnate and be renowned?

My purpose in this world is incarcerated.
Confiscating my dreams in contempt,
My dilapidated soul is imprisoned.
Who will bail me out? Oh! Dear, who ought to attempt?

An endeavor to convince of my righteousness,
Is like beating a dead horse.
Crystal washing my mistakes won’t justify my fallibleness,
But will craft my conscience till I passenger the hearse!

					By Willem Pietersen

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