I am tired.
Usually in a “life has sapped itself out”
But that isn’t what this is about.
I. Am. Tired.
Of my stupid styrofoam smile
Squeaking under pressure all the while.
I am tired.
Of being walkedranmoppedraked overthroughon.
And of being treated as dumb spawn or clueless pawn.
I am calm, patient, quiet, KIND.
In the midst of grossness others spew against and on my mind.
However. My still hand does NOT mean
That I don’t find your way of existing obscene.
I may not lift my finger,
But damn does wavering will barely linger.
I am so tired of tulips and fields and eggshells.
I am ready for mortars, more ammo, some bombshells.
I am so tired of being the go-to-friend.
You know I’ll be there in the end.
I am so tired of “can I, may I, if it’s not too much”
After a while, doesn’t tired become the crutch?
Tired, exhausted, drained, and used.
Perhaps from the next I must recuse
Myself not because interests conflicted,
But rather because you don’t deserve a finger lifted.
I am so tired of being my warmth of fiery nice.
I’m so tempted to just let it all go.
Be discompassionate ice.
Categories:
grossness, life,
Form: Rhyme
For whom nothing matters
The night had been mysterious and full of screams
raped women hung from apple trees like rotten fruit, their begging not to be eaten went unheard
Men, crazed by pornographic lust and sweet wine
egging one another to commit heinous crimes. thinks, they did what women wished
The morning had an aroma of newness, a promise of Utopia where humanity lived in peace with nature and
themselves hopefully modest egos
Pre-mature fruit lying on the ground as the fruit, not of the loom but the result of nights of excesses
the outcast to be thrown away as abortions are the right
to take life that has no voice
the guilty of this horror has no brain and coincidence
to see the grossness of their behavior because they had learned from a failed culture that the only thing that has any value is self-indulgence and hot fries
Categories:
grossness, absence, dark, lust,
Form: Blank verse
How obnoxious is Meghan Markle?
The one who married Royalty, with a
ring that makes a whole room sparkle?
Turns down flowers from her Caucasian
father?
Then makes a video insulting her mother-in-
law, Elizabeth, the Queen, why bother?
Melissa McCarthy, playing the Queen?
She should only have such class.
A foul-mouth, tawdry comedianne, and
Hollywood and the Woke Crowd just laughs
and gives her a loving pass?
To such depravity and grossness, we do
howl right along?
Tell, me do, whatever became of honor
and respect, as crudeness is our new
national song!
I pray both do come to their right mind.
Disrespect for parents in any form is both
ungrateful and most unkind!
8-8-2021
~1~
Commandment Four:
Honor Thy Father and thy Mother
Edited. Apolologies for having her first name spelt wromg!
KUDOS to Tom C for telling me. Thank you,
Categories:
grossness, anger, character,
Form: Rhyme
Moment to moment, the moments entwined
Vaporised presence, one with that oneness
Flowing gently in the current divine
Draws joyous vibrations by resonance
There then thus being no identity
With lower mind thought instrument rested
Bliss throb renews in continuity
No anchor within for grossness twisted
Hollowed out mind body is magnetised
Each cell within form, aglow and vibrant
In good time, as ordained, God realised
The door is open, for the innocent
Ceasing to resist, we be a bliss mist
Suffused with endless joy that so persists
21-November-2020
Categories:
grossness, spiritual,
Form: Sonnet
Since we are in a hypnotic trance
Divine aligned let us now in exuberance dance
Exiting vibrations of grossness
Ever resonating with throb of bliss in fullness
Then our stupor no longer matters
Detached and nonchalant free from all narrow fetters
29-September-2020
Categories:
grossness, spiritual,
Form: Free verse
Wanted sleep – “death will guarantee it, one un-promised morrow”
Hunger panged – “a meal or two skipped, will not ruin your health”
Icky grossness – “psyche your gut strong and start gutting the Ahi”
No appetite – “waste not, and think of all those dying of starvation”
Elevated brags – “you’re no better than other mortals, we’ll all die!”
Never minded a child’s request: do as I say, not as I do, always won
Of the unceasing smoking, lungs blackened to cough a bloody achoo
The whine isn’t always groundless; listen fore you bullishly silence it!
(9/9/20: '01 Regal Commodore 3260; DMS)
Categories:
grossness, abuse,
Form: Verse
Inevitable that our past
Indulgence in many an unholy repast
Brings now ego borne ferality
Seeking to penetrate our open porosity
Having no fear we do not resist
Our emptiness within offering no target
Grossness seeking an anchor
But there being no corresponding rancour
Onto which it may attach
Past karma whizzes by leaving us unscathed
As ordained the arrow penetrates
However flies by harmlessly unable to permeate
There being in our presence
Nothing else save the elixirous blissful fragrance
As a mist of bliss
Identity vaporised in the divine entwined caress
The external inconsequential
Ensconced in love beholding the divine miracle
The flowing continuum
Observed in dynamic stillness from the fulcrum
As the spacial void
In & within the flow of life we are always overjoyed
Dharma
Annihilating karma
Categories:
grossness, spiritual,
Form: Rhyme
MEN WITHOUT MERIT
smallminded lopsided
these are the
men I mind
jealous of anything outside
their re-invented Utopia
like jealous little gods that
would have the whole world
bow to their insidious
arrogance wanting the
world flat because they
are faking a fauxflat
perception to launder
the grossness of all
other souls
they paint secrets in Arabic
which is all Chinese to me
like trophy hieroglyphics you
see
there is a moon in my sky
although they specialize in
chalking out the light…still
mermaids swim like angels
under untouchable
tides they hide
dulling and stilling
men without merit
© Kim van Breda—2 October 2015
Categories:
grossness, analogy,
Form: Free verse
You walk outside and are struck
by the velvety blackness
you recall with bitterness
the night bringing that black buck
Yes he wooed her away
carried her off in darkness
no stars just a pitch blackness
in his bower with her lay
It was full darkness, no stars
my heart filled with bleakness
body shaking with coldness
trapped inside these steel bars
Beware the angel of dark
do not approach in blindness
take care to see it's grossness
be touched not by it's mark
Categories:
grossness, dark, night, stars,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme
The Fourth’s the day for fireworks
And barbecues and beer,
But there’s another custom
That takes place but once a year:
The hot dog eating contest!
And the champs are all prepared,
While only those insane enough
To challenge will have dared.
The five-time winner, Joey Chestnut,
Weighing just 210,
Devoured sixty-eight last year
And wants to win again.
The female best contestant,
Soaking wet one hundred pounds,
Ate forty-one, complete with buns,
A number that astounds.
To watch them stuff their faces
Is a most amazing sight.
It’s silly, crazy and, to me,
Pure grossness at its height.
Yet people love to watch and cheer
To see who’ll wear the crown,
Though mostly they are hoping
Not all hot dogs will stay down.
The hot dog number I’ll consume
Today will add to zero,
But Coney Island soon will crown
The proud new hot dog hero!
Categories:
grossness, food, holiday, people, dog,
Form: Rhyme
Marked for beauty or for grossness
Central chest area, just like my ancestors
Which ones I won't confess, yet...
I debate each year-- remove the beast?
Or let the beauty live as a heritage of my family
So there it resides evident centrally
A pebble in the road, that leads through the valley
Forgotten mostly, yet a point to greet on the journey
Wish they had left me a beach front condo instead
At least it is not in the center of my forehead!
For the Holy Mole-y contest!!
Categories:
grossness, funnybeauty, beauty,
Form: Rhyme
An always journey, I leave self behind
to seek thy space, as if not comprehend
and all the more I see - the more is then
thy face, thy face, an always, always friend.
Oh, that the earth could turn to bring thee then
as close as its become, to recommend.
Thy grossness in my mind does wish for tend,
but it is space ...intriguing as its bend.
Has nothing been worth more to apprehend,
then that confine, thee missing, always friend,
a look away - a glance, and then a mend
but clearly, somewhere, still so unattend -
Then sadness breeches, closing my pretend,
you are but elsewhere, elsewhere -
where my friend?
Categories:
grossness, friendship,
Form: Rhyme