Long Disgustingly Poems
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he might have been a felon, a freak, a frizzle wiper or a fraud.
we did not know him actually said speaker, young judgmental Maude.
he had a look about him that made me clutch my purse.
she assesses strangers quickly, treating people mean and worse.
he might have been an angel, a do-gooder, a friend, a partner, I say.
trying to uplift judgmental Maude’s mind a teensy tiny bit today.
he might have been sent by God to test you, to see how kind you are.
she gave me an eye-roll and talked about his eye patch and his scar.
Jesus might have had an eye patch and a scar, I told her then.
but the scar was an upside down cross, right across his chin.
is could have been a test I argue. Maybe you should have said hello.
She sniffed her disagreement saying “he was a disgustingly old fellow.”
Maude and I are not friends by accident or choice, but by proximity.
live next door to each other, but we have nothing on which we can agree.
her perspective is flat-out negative, because her ideas are so fringed.
I cannot hear her opinions long before my peace of mind is tinged.
How does it feel to be a man? Let me resonate the ways.
I can't hide myself from the depression and anxiety
Not needing time where I knew nobody and their barking words
And the pain of a man goes unnoticed.
I face the tides of total silence, and I had to log off
As the password changed, and I wandered off the streets
They took my kindness and threw it disgustingly back into my face.
It hurt me to leave but was killing me to stay.
Avoiding the times that I cried with liquor bottles on the floor
Not allowed to feel, be real, explain, express as I lose the upper hand.
Calling me pathetic, trash, weak always broke me into my knees
As the page of my story got ripped out and thrown in emotional flames
But in my honesty, a sense of hatred isn't an option
Only God helps me with my grief and healing.
Believe I can smell the sweetest smell
That first scent of spring in the air
To see you standing in the morning sun
The wind blowing through your hair
Surely it's here after all this waiting
And finally upon us once more
My favourite season, the season of love
With that smell us guys can't ignore
Makes me feel like asking each girlie
May I kiss and caress you for a while
I promise not to touch your naughty bits
Answer yes and I'll sport a big smile
As strange as it seems, not all will agree
To allow me to invade their space
Those that do are in for a great big treat
The pleasure will show on their face
Believe I can smell the sweetest smell
That first scent of spring in the air
Winter's been cold and disgustingly long
Bout time, I think somebody erred
© Jack Ellison 2014
A Meeting after an eight hour day
Should include jubilant jiving,
Exciting conversation,
Lively chatter,
Not a speaker who drones on and on and on and on and on and on
In a disgustingly un-metered monotone voice
No lilt
No cadence
No melody
Just a methodical sameness
I am making a list of things that might get her excited-cobra biting her thigh,
School building burning to the ground, tiger tracks in the snow around her car...
Hooray! At last our unknown speaker has encouraged us, the audience, to talk.
We all lean in at our tables and talk toward each other
Loudly and rapidly
Words galloping out of our mouths as if a shot
Has been fired at the starting gate
Wrap it up! Wrap it up! Someone yells
I look up amazed. Her voice is excited.
We get a warning however we cannot shut up
So we keep talking
Wrap it up! Wrap it up! She yells.
A shriek type warning
Which we ignore
By the time this is over I decide
We did not need a cobra or a tiger.
All we had to do was be ourselves.
It is nigh onto impossible to control a roomful of teachers.
The reason I can’t use drugs,
Is because even when sober,
I find reality,
So unrecognizable from fantasy.
Unprovoked, your image emerges,
That light beam of a smile,
A face I can’t stop staring at,
Even when I’m kissing it.
I’m really not one to lust (lies),
But I hope for a feeling more meaningful,
Still, WOW! What a sweet small of a back,
My hands are forever grateful.
I am writing this, really, because I feel stuck,
Because attempting to move deeper,
Is a gamble with luck,
It's a contest with option A who hovers around you af.
It's a demanding of affection,
An admittance to needing your attention,
A hoping to adhered expectation,
And disgustingly open communication.
I can’t have that,
I was gonna be a bad this year,
As red as I wanted to get this month,
I'm saving my tear.
Butterflies are a magical magnificent wonder of our world's skies
In many ways they are not dissimilar to us coming in all different colours categories configurations and size.
Butterflies can't see their own wings they never know their outer beauty or no how truly beautiful they are
But everyone else can see them and can admire their breathtaking beauty a comparison not too far
To our human nature
Such a delicacy and in the same instance there fluttering features so delicate
Fragile to the core yet they dance with such fierce verocity truly supereminent,
No fear as they dart from side to side busy fulfilling their fluttering butterfly duties,
Such pure souls can't stay here for too long 15 to 29 days for these beauties,
Is this why they flutter by so quickly gliding with urgency through the skies
Because there is so much to do and such little time to do it before their demise.
I wonder if they contemplate their destined fate
Not taking a single second for granted keeping them constantly fluttering by their due date.
Sounds splendid not knowing how disgustingly dazzling you truly are,
Not having that self conscious hang up based on appearance would be bizarre
You simply exist with heavenly peace, mental tranquility sounds like beautiful bliss.
Spending days fluttering amongst floral incenses the aroma a sweet treat
Birds soar high above bouncing from branch to branch of the tall trees as they tweet
Nature's colour palette is so bright from the dainty petals of the wandering wildflowers
As I dash from flower to flower full of pure joyful glee fluttering tumbling swooping and soaring
I could dance for hours with other insects like a buzzy bumbling bee
I'm a beautiful butterfly you see, now you can see me in all my beauty and glory,
And it doesn't really bother me I'm content not seeing my wings they are there so I can fly mainly
So I'm as content as can be, just being a beautiful butterfly fluttering away as I pass thee.
Heard at a modern American home in a city near you was a brief dialogue between father and son. A caring dad said to his teenage son: "I will expect that you should watch your language in the lyrics you are writing for your new rap song. So much attention to sex, violence, and dirty words is bad for this world as well as for my outstanding reputation in our very exclusive community".
The intelligent son replied to his dad, "Dad, does that mean that my foul language in entertainment is disgustingly disgraceful, but for you, it is not immoral to defend known felons and other criminals in the court of law, or to tell half-truths and unverifiable lies in politics because it's legal for you to do so? With your words, dad*, you are teaching me values, respect, and morality, but with your words and actions you are also teaching me to lie, steal, cheat, and get rich as quickly as you can any way you can".
012120PSoupCtest, Polarities And Paradoxes, Line Gauthier. 3P *International Standard Version, From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. It should not be like this, my brothers! James 3:10
Flinging open the passenger door - I retreat
Deep behind my sinuses - I feel the sensation to weep
On and off all day and night - PTSD - I wanna cry
'Cause after 7.5 incredibly long and difficult years - just why?
How could you supposedly unwrap the condom and put it on?
Let alone sticking it in someone else after my faithfulness this long?
And then to follow-through and finish the entire adultery session
Then expect and force me to remain with you without a lesson?
You expect me to look the other way, forgive you, and give you chances?
While you're still betraying me with your dedication songs and fake dances
While you continue to effortlessly lie and have dark and shady secrets from me
Yet you claim I'm your witch - and it is my duty and purpose to set you free
You continue to humiliate, use, hate, and abuse me - like a pattern
You remain using me for a "below average" piece of ass - but it doesn't matter
Not only are you my longest, but you're the only one I've done right
Now you're popping me like a water balloon - from soaring me high as a kite
You came into my life, and launched my world into a diamond paradise
But you'll never be happy or satisfied with anyone - you're too easy to entice
It's easy to get you to believe some young, random hoe
And after all the betrayal you put me through - you expect us to flow
The guilt and sheer disgust would eat my soul alive if I ever would cheat
I couldn't do it without feeling slutty and dirty - openly or discreet
You're not understanding me when I say with cheating that I am done
I can't believe you'd even think to be that heartless - considering all you've done
I'm telling you in that moment, I felt all that love expell out of my body
The second my brain recognized it as downgrading - disgustingly naughty
Your ego will never allow us to masterfully work out our kinks
'Cause 7.5 years were snuffed out so quickly - when either of us blinks
I don't think that we can possibly repair the pieces this time
'Cause every day it haunts me that you even cheated - now you'll never be mine
Gorgeous Grass Faerie was sent to soothe the little fellow.
He was lost in the bowels of the jungle with snakes of yellow.
His sniffles were heard by elves, faeries, owls and a gnome.
He was lost, for he had wandered rather far from his home.
The first thing we need to do is give him food the faerie said.
She gathered some strawberries that were magnificently red.
She brought them to him and coaxed him into trying a bite.
He was shy, but he looked up and lost a bit of his enormous fright.
We will take care of you until your mother finds you, she said.
Do not worry, nothing will harm you. The owl will not make you dead.
The owl heard this and agreed, going back to sleep with a wink.
He never ate up baby mice, their tummies were disgustingly pink.
Momo Mouse’s magnificent mama found him about an hour later.
She had been frantic, for he had fallen off an oak tree’s open elevator.
I saw you tumbling, but I lost sight of you in the weeds, my son.
She was grateful for everything Grass Faerie and her friends had done.
Death before the NEW YEAR
For a week I heard music from his house, it went on day and night, but not loud enough to annoy anyone. Last time I saw him, he looked ravaged by
his drug addiction remembered him as a young man,
I knew he was gay which is a no; in our little village, we all turned a blind eye.
His addiction had made him ugly I thought of the painting in the attic
in the book Dorian Grey, by Oscar Wilde, it was shortly
before the New Year, he was found dead in a filthy little hotel.
At fifty-two he was too young to die, but his last twenty years
had been a struggle against heroin, or some other drug,
perhaps it was for the best. That sentence was disgustingly trite,
what the hell do I know?