Long Disgust Poems
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'Every man is proud of what he does well; and no man is proud of what
he does not do well. With the former, his heart is in his work; and he will
do twice as much of it with less fatigue. The latter performs a little imperfectly,
looks at it in disgust, turns from it, and imagines himself exceedingly tired.
The little he has done, comes to nothing, for want of finishing.'
Abraham Lincoln.
'When a man is led to believe that the pride in the work that he thought was done well, is undermined by himself, or others, for lack of instruction, where such instruction would not be rebuffed, then those whom could so instruct are just as responsible for the want of his finish. For when his heart is in his work and he seemed tireless in the pursuit of it's perfection, while knowing full well that nothing is perfect, when if fortunate enough, then his efforts could at the very least be perceived as his willingness to bring himself up from his past failure'.
James McLain Saturday, November 1, 2014
My Favorite Things comes to mind...
a random assortment, a jumble of words
a quotient of portions, quotidian served
quixotic strivings of the great deca-dense
obscured in meaning, eschewing all sense
visions and nightmares and hallucinations
erudite arguments, odd fascinations
old geezers fondling memories of things
most folk would not to mixed company bring
inchoate ramblings of damaged young minds
bubbled through water and cardboard box wine
audible groans from the web server host
these are the ones make me giggle the most
shouting in vacuums, a riotous void
pontificating, or mildly annoyed
grieving, believing, or weaving a string
virtuous outburst that don’t do a thing
rants about orange man and all his mean tweets
and, yes, “Let’s go, Brandon” to make things complete
guns, poo, abortion, yes, all are discussed
sometimes the thin-skinned bail out in disgust
side by side, posting, the sage and the fool
the wise in their youth and those starting to drool
bleeping our excrement down on the page
somehow it all seems to soften the rage
when the bard shouts
when the muse screams
‘bout covid or Vlad
we’re at a computer
with just poo to fling
and that makes me laugh a tad
Please quit being such a witch
Take your attitude and ditch
It away from your meanness streak
Or it's looking very bleak
For you to have any friends
This kind of attitude just sends
A picture of you violently
Attacking all kind souls like me
Who just want to spread good cheer
Your bad vibes are everywhere
Counteracting our good deeds
Your mental state really needs
To take a flip flip around
Or your mouth I'll gag and bound
So words of disgust wont come out
That's not what life is all about
We need to treat others kindly
Not walk around hating blindly
Not seeing how your affecting
All the work we've done dissecting
Negativity that's everywhere
We don't want the hate and fear
Others like you are sending
Into a world that should be lending
A more gentle kind approach
Do not be a filthy roach
Whose disease will never die
Please just give it a quick try
If your nicer and more human
We all can end this pain we're in
Is life an ever fight of yang and ying ?
a path of desire and aversion
of love, lust, passion and of repulsion
and do we have to choose with everything ?
I wish that want and craving could just cling.
When faced with disgust I seek conversion,
hate sends me on a silent excursion.
Can the way be_ let go of things that sting ?
Desire, loath, crave, dread, devotion, dislike
when ugly turmoil roars I take a hike,
and when rapture whispers my soul will purr _
In my life garden only flowers grow,
I breathe a breath, relax and take life slow
and all hostility fades to a blur.
____________________
September 27, 2022
Poetry/Sonnet/of yang and ying
Copyright Protected, ID 09-1490-761-27
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Dante's Sonnet abbaabba ccdeed - 14 lines
Written for the Premiere contest, Desire and Aversion
sponsor, Unseeking Seeker, Judged 10/11/2022
Third Place
“E.R.I.C. Is”
by: Eric L. Boddie
It is important
That the mind possess agility
And because of that
Eric is the exceptionally rare intellectual capability
For those who will challenge
Without the use of common sense
They need to understand
Eric is the extremely reactive intense consequence
To those who keep their Faith
Where God intended for it to be kept
Which, by the way, has never been in man
Eric is an extraordinarily realized immortal concept
For those who try to tempt
In an effort to press the buttons of the controller
Through their greatest efforts
Eric is enabled to reach infinite composure
To those who think
So as not to one day resent
Because most pain and stress can be avoided
Eric is especially rich in insightful content
For those who love
Because God gave it with respect
Through the realms of poetry
Eric is empowered to reveal inspired context
To those living in disgust
On today’s society’s view of life
Because of an increasing lack of love
Eric is the eager request to involve Christ
And saving the best for last
Because that’s how God did the greatest creation
For each eligible lady
Eric is the enjoyable relaxation of intimate conversation
The cares of the world, are weighing me down.
To the point, that I wanted my thoughts; to drown.
Bills owed, finding their way to the mail box.
I want to pay them, but; I have too many roadblocks.
Collectors harassing day in and day out on the telephone.
Even on the "do not call" list they still won't leave you alone.
I try and develop a plan to suppress the harassment.
That didn't last very long, or even bring any appeasement.
The greedsome collectors send a pile, that is a waste of trees.
Just to collect their "grub" and jacked up hideous fees!
Then the greedsome collectors called me at work!
I called them back mad and was about to go berserk!
Then I received a whopping medical bill.
I felt so sick with disgust, I think I feel "ill".
In the mail was a pink envelope and what was inside?
An insurance bill that read "if not paid" then services denied.
I come home from my job feeling somber and "spent".
I opened up my check, of course; the government took their "cent".
They say when it rains, it pours.
Life’s tedious doldrums but, a different day; and more downpour!
In consternation i will employ some letters
That read as ' victive ' it
has sprung in my mind.. to use as an acusative I need to quantify.?
To express my disgust.' At lifes dark yet lucrative 'wethers' the undefined promises
Or hints if you will.? Or must' of life improvements it
Seens all hog swill.' From the killing of Able
To carthages fall in every conflict
( oxymoronica ) the edge we walk..above the
Steep falls, the opposites of safety sometines not far away.' From a wasteland of deprivation of extreme..Fear driven by depravity i must say, where knuckles clench tightly to a
blanket old and worn, children hold
as 'a sheild ' against the hum of shrapnel borne.' Upon a gust of air
Hot fron a science deeply cold.' Driven by a profit line, and political speeches bold, i hear of 'profitless investments?' In a place called Gaza..As a point.' Yet I am sure there are accounts that would tell other.' Banking ones sole or joint, There seems to be ( a fault? ) the type found in geology, which shows its telltale lines.' That we may read of true history; in various
Strata and sediments fine..In my mind
I see a mirror ( i see its always there
in every war!) Its dead central in every battlefield.'
Yet never cracks, shatters, or deforms, at all
of this I am assured.' Its purpose is to
reflect the beauty of Gods work.' Yet
it reflects; also the vanity of selfish souless jerks.' The ones that sit on velvet chairs, that quaff the
Sack and wine..Who are there to fund the charitys..And desreuction irs all combined.'
While helpless people cannot rest.' Who dig through rubble to find.' Another familiy
Member, quite human we should mind.' While the mirrors are recieving every glint
And blast, for His recordings are a greater
Reality of the technical devices, humans use yet
Unto eternity they will certainly, not last !
Dedicated to my Dad who lost his short battle w/ Colon Cancer on June 18,2013
I hate you Cancer
Your vile evil and cruel
You don't care who you hurt
I'll never forget that day
I'll always hate you for it
Your heartless Cancer
You took someone important from me
Someone important from others too
Took people who didn't belong to you
I hate you for it
You disgust me Cancer
You had no right to take him from me
He mattered more than my very own life
I hate you for taking my Daddy
I hate you for taking others too
I hate you with a passion Cancer
You took part of my heart with him
You took part of my soul that day too
I hate you for it
I hate you I hate you I hate you
I hate you with every fiber of my being
Go back to Hell where you belong
I hate you, others hate you
Your not welcome or wanted here Cancer
I hate you more than his doctor's
I hate you more than God
I hope I get to witness that day
Witness the day you fall
And you will fall Cancer
You're gonna lose the battle one day Cancer
I'm gonna laugh and dance around your grave
You'll finally get what you deserve
And you'll never be able to inflict your disease on another soul
Sabrina Niday Hansel
______________________________________________________________________
Placed 8th in Poet Destroyer A's 2013 "PINKTOBER" Contest
Please Support a Cure for Colon Cancer & every other type!
“Even the worst death I can imagine feels kinder than what men might do to me.”
I want to die —
drenched in blood,
rotting yet… dressed,
devoured in the jungle
because flesh is just flesh.
I want to die —
by suicide or by murder,
by ghost or by thunder,
by knife
or a blade’s blunder.
I want to die.
Yet I fear
a death that begins with hands,
with being forced,
with skin branded by bruise and rape.
I want to die —
but I fear screams for release,
a mouth stuffed with cloth,
a body stripped of its right to say no.
I might chase death —
crash my car,
taste rat’s poison —
yet I fear
the howls, the stares,
the cruelty of a predator in a man.
I want to see the world
after I am gone,
but I fear its disgust,
its questions
over my ruined corpse.
I want to die —
so people will finally cry for me,
but I fear my parents
bowing in shame to obscene pleas.
I want to die —
but I fear
dying simply for being a girl.
I want to love being dead as a girl,
yet I fear
being dead with remorse
for ever being a girl.
I;m not buying what you sell
Because I can already tell
Everything you say to me
Isn't truthful, can't you see
The interest's no longer there
You're talking but I don't hear
Any words my ears are blocking
As the seconds are tick tocking
Turning into tortured minutes
Waiting for your mouth to finish
All the lies your tryna cover
Turning me into a lover
That you'll toss aside and use
But my heart and mind refuse
To be a notch put on your belt
I've known others who have felt
The pain of this act you pull
I know you are really full
Of disgust, meanness and lies
Shut up, walk away, don't try
To convince me you wont be
A womanizing a-- to me
I'm not falling for your sap
I am smarter than the crap
And foul odor from the sh--
Your mouth is trying to admit