To think.
To see, to understand.
To speak, to say what you think!
Be careful.
Be mindful of the thoughts.
Be mindful of the words.
Be careful with the voice.
It’s real to think.
It’s real to understand.
It’s real to speak.
It’s real but…
The system will stay the system.
The rich will stay the rich.
The poor will stay the poor.
Expendable. Expected.
Excommunicated.
Extreme. Excoriate.
Exemplify. Expose.
Extinguish. Expel.
Exclude. Exterminate…
A language rich in words for silencing, yet poor in words for loving.
The Pope is dying,
clinging to life like any other shmuck.
When my mother died,
(bless her excommunicated heart),
she lay in State as serene
as a sleeping cat under a fading sun.
Dogs don't care about death,
death is just another bone
to chew upon
as they sleepwalk through their last hours.
Death's doorstep
has been good to me.
I have dwelt upon it before
shivering and naked
holding my penitent
like a tarnished talisman.
Death has been kind to me,
I have shaken its door,
it rattled like an ill-fitting denture.
Behind a hollow lock
I could hear
a dog continuously barking -
a Pontiff pleading with it to stop,
a silky cat purring.
I heard a deeper sound,
my mother's compassionate laughter
for we who were begot
only to wait until.
He rolled on the ground erratically,
as though his body was filled with
embers. Villagers gathered around him,
some whose mouths were agape.
Another child of the sun
had been accused
of interacting with a water
sprout, a domain which was reserved
only for the gods. The elders had
initially agreed the boy would be excommunicated
deep into the
wilderness, but his mother pleaded,
in the midst of tears. Quitting
exorcism was out of question.
Below the gray blah canopy
Suffering from bad attitude
and seasonal psychosis
The human race sprints
No finish line required
and Everyone wins gold
Music blaring
Bikini tops daring
Exposed guts not caring
Rooftop gogo dancer staring
At me
Ok, maybe that's vice versa
Its a poolside, post-graduate MTV Spring Break
Some of us much more "post" than others
The glaze and haze of Vegas
Sprawling in the manner built for Caesar
Decadence is the Neighborhood Watch
Where every citizen is
On patrol
On Patron
All far gone
Judgment
By them or ourselves
Left town for lent
Or excommunicated at the stake
Where loungers and readers
And tricksters and treaters
are one
Tighter than conjoined twins
playing with crazy glue in Texas heat
And the ways that used to be
And the ways we wish there were
And the ways we can rent by glass
Are included in the price of admission
Guilt not included
As everyone drops their towels
Hoping for someone to pick them up.
(9/7/13)
boundless firestorm flames
furnace flares unending fumes ---
kitchen in chaos
flesh blood skin and bones
physique and psyche shredded ---
head cut chickens walk
skulls and skeletons
ripples in rivers of blood ---
whirlpools in red seas
devils dive about
gods excommunicated ---
frail ghosts flits flutter
hunger and famine
war death demise and decay ---
stand entwined with souls
I know very well, yet
day-to-day existence here ---
is worst than the hell
26 March 2023
Hell Haiku Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Don't Be a Nazi
Flee the yoke of woke
and unlearn the hate inside,
and be a human
reaching out with love to share.
Tell the universe, “I care!”
***
Note:
As an infant, Adolf Hitler (1889–1945) was baptized in the Roman Catholic Church and avowed his sacrament of Confirmation in accordance with the Catechism of the Catholic Church at the age of fifteen in 1904. Though history books and the Catholic Church intentionally or unintentionally blur and misrepresent the truth with biased, opinionated arguments, Adolf Hitler never officially renounced his Catholic faith, nor was he excommunicated from the Roman Catholic Church.
Adolf Hitler served as the leader (führer) of the “National Socialist German Workers’ Party (Nazi Party)” from 1921 to 1945 and Chancellor (1933) and Führer (1934) of Germany until his suicidal death in 1945.
Adolf Hitler, “Tell a lie loud enough and long enough and people will believe it.”
Remember when only
assembly-line workers
were alienated?
Now if you're not
you're excommunicated
Sister Benedictine, her blinded eyes stretched upward,
seeing neither blue nor green
nor his mercy.
born into a religious family, expected
at fourteen, to kindle providence…
she’d flounder at best.
her neophyte gown, dark and drab,
long nights without prospect.
her grin grew as she noticed Father Francis,
the poetic bombast of his tongue.
the bored hunch of his shoulders.
together they’d let go of their latent inhibition,
invisible to the church,
except for one peeping eye.
Faith saw it — the lecherous act. the smolder of
her right spectacle ignited the steeple.
the overwrought mother of
the excommunicated sister
coldly calls her
by her middle name, Dolorous —
for she was promised to God
during the painful pangs of birth.
locked into a wretched wheelchair,
the mother stares into her child’s eyes —
mean green and steel blue, unglued.
6/9/2019
Eight word free verse challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Hamilton
*Merciful Heaven - an exclamation
The whole world was forced to usher
in a spring of bombs from the skies,
that turned towns and cities
to big bonfires,
that gods of death warmed themselves.
Tanks and fields were filled with corpses
and disfigured men,
from both warring fronts. Death did not
discriminate a nation’s historical record
belief, or power. It just came. Slow, and sometimes
fast.
Ships created gigantic bonfires,
which resembled a traditional Viking
home sending on a river by a fiery arrow.
Torpedoes and big guns forcefully sent
thousands of youths to another home.
For almost a decade fires and screams
filled the earth. It was Hell! Man had turned iron
and steel to artillery and explosives
which were strong enough to melt
away Man’s civilization,
and Man himself.
The swastika was in conflict with the Star of David,
the Cross, and other symbols of faith. Faith in turn,
excommunicated the Swastika from the face
of the earth…
Date: 6/22/2016
excommunicated from the land
of colours
i am
swimming in the music of the words
silently
passionate indulgence of
orgasmic repression
who are we?
speck of infinite wisdom
cosmic dust sprinkled
lustrous coupling of the residuals
on exile
in the unending girth
of the deep black holes
smiling...
He was baptized into slavery
And submerged in the winter
Of your hatred
And was converted to poverty
In the land of gold,
You taught him that GOD
Was a white baas
Who had invented the pass!
And the police were
The angels of death,
He learned to read
Whites only
Lest he fall into heresy
And desecrate your piss-pots,
And as you crept
Out of the garden
Of your humanity
And excommunicated
Yourselves from justice
And damned your generation
Chained in gold
To a leper colony,
And as he stumbled
Through his oppressive crucifixion
You took him off your cross
And sold him in the market place
To mercenaries while you counted the rosaries
Of your crimes to man,
Now he a victim
Of your greed
A witness to your crimes
Is finally free.
Farouche.
By Feo.
I am shy child la rock,
Self - effacing, who seeks harmony,
A maze of thought,
The introvert from the clan of the bizarre,
Planted in the decaying garden of sympathy,
The seeds - demons of devotion,
Alone together,
Bashed and befuddled, at dawn till dusk again,
Distinguished from the average victims who devour relations,
To rot in fire and brimstone, to burn in the flames of misery, to soak in the thirst of knowledge,
To question life, to ignore our meaning, to make up the rules of freedom,
Curious of the other half, who hasn't been discovered,
The birth of Lucifer, the first rebel, our descendant,
The birth of man has yet to happen, until we destroy ourselves,
Pawns of myth, believing in the belief in divinity, to automatically warden the unbeliever, who may be unity,
The redundant, my brethren, hymns of the fatherless, raised by the virgin,
The saint of oafs, drink my blood and become lush, never will you be excommunicated,
Blood that runs thick with revolt,
Inspired by the insurgent, to be the future revolution,
I need twelve and ten
welcome to the world l cumminity land like i had a lond dream
and i dont know sweet then genesis media off the finish stoll
i be quoting nig all day long beg please loven of money not qurrel and member what to do to work another day colin no no no ready it is not please please I need drugs and snuff went through the night sleep the number count zek and inquistion anything oppressed? labs ton me drop drop?
I like my church oil
i woke up and laughing stay alive a wrath news chrsitna mute point!
this so be twelve friends balling somatic revolution my friends
the name of god perhaps two more quick tell us a story
perfection love work dont drink cis term just let me lay down
forn me lorn me sweet cool is myy ears darn.. and get naked non meditating wise excommunicated adonai plan reeds then flee from me cause you would go tell tell the whole hellis sweet Imish working world if you new mim.
then Miss. come from and will all in locus that i got to teach myself and everthing but this is twelve mox sex mor of it. all right pills the pills more mins and the other stuff yes!
Tuppy
Silver strands silver bands and the rings on her hands,
Her hair was the colour of grey,
Eyes far away, with the thoughts of her day,
As her grandson an audience sought,
I was there that day, with an empty head thought,
just a boy, but loved this I say.
As I looked at her troubled eyes,
A Catholic she’d once been married,
To a Church of England, man called John,
so now she was surely harried,
Excommunicated by a priest on that day,
So she caught up a rifle, pulled off a few shots,
Bounced bullets, as he was running away.
The only pleasure to be got,
Anyway.
With polio born she couldn’t stand,
But dragged herself onto a pony,
She did eventually walk,
But she walked in the path of the lonely.
Susan Burch
Contest Name Silver Strands
Zorro swings and Zorro falls,
sadly landed on someones balls
excommunicated from the mall,
for gross protracted screaming.
Zorro on the crutch of one,
slapped down by a redneck nun,
pivoted crutch to plonking run,
so bad he must be dreaming?
Springing for his horse so black,
drop kicked his oolies slack,
glad it wasn't a donkey Jack,
the Z man enterprising.
Don Johnson 6-aug-11
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.