Long Glutton for punishment Poems
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Jokes on me, guess you're the roaster and i'm to chicken to say goodbye cause I waste my time wishing you would hold me closer ,the shows been over but im still seated, my vision blurred , Is the curtain really closed? ,In the mist I search through my mind to try to find the truths separated from the lie,what's real and whats hidden, intermixed and woven, a stir of confusion, a mind warped ,a puppet to the puppeteer her brains been stirred, she cant see clear,a place in his heart? please! there's no room for you there, little crumbs get dropped and I follow the trail going through the maze getting dizzy in the haze hoping to reach the big cheese,what am I trying to achieve?The unattainable heart, the broken Soul,a sick need like desire why is it he that fuels my fire when it is also he who leave my heart and soul, empty ,yearning and tired,the lust ,his touch ,his smell, his presence in your mind he always dwells, he disregards you and still you feel like hes your armor?!? it's debatable that hes not quite malicious but yet he still harms you,disarmed you are against his charms,his smile ,his voice defeats you every time,in your mind a shadow of him cackles you are mine,a prisoner to passion all while forgetting this kinda pain is not in fashion ,a glutton for punishment I ingest all the excrement, a slave to the pain don't even try to break out of my chains,sounding erratic the feeling is tragic ,his flesh pressed against mine ,the skin craving sin, ringmaster of this disaster he controls the elements like a wizard, under his spell heaven an hell ,if u looked in my eyes could you tell? I'm under your spell can you not tell, I wish I was held in your mind like you are in mine ,I wish in your heart I had a place to reside, but I'm just a jester going on a ride ,riding my unicycle around in a circle ,a sideshow for you ,the one u lie with but will never hold dear, like a master I'm your cat ,you wave the feather taunting me but I can never grasp it ,like a baby bird inside of the shell there's a slight crack but I cant break free, born deformed unable to fly,you caught me a few times as I started to cry, shrieking inside my mind the words blast between my skull and vibrate my brain as my blood vessels pulsate in a excruciating manner , my mind screams he'll never be mine!
Pursuit for elusive prey
teases yours truly
into treacherous catacombs
dangerous mentally
challenging pitfalls,
sets small hairs of back
on camp creeks edge
of night, where dark shadows
evoke outer limits
of twilight zone
prompting me constantly questioning
purposefulness, qua hair raising pursuit
embarking these modern roman times
all for naught,
nonetheless I chide self
failing to heed
emotional, mental, psychological...fallout
in sum re: springing Jack in the box reflex
to sally forth and earn kudos,
asper potential Prince Valiant.
Thus situated with blank computer screen
capacious external Lenovo for myopia
(and incessant squiggly floaters to boat),
this literary glutton for punishment
feverishly fixates to plumb depths
measuring mor'n 10,000
leagues under the see
ming lee impossible mission
to ensnare nearly extinct
fluttering, lyfting, shutterflying...
smarts to outwit unsuspecting
beak henning quest
tendering, tasting uber victory
quivering crossbow
targeting yawping
zoological discovery - channeling
primed with taut fletched arrow
on high alert for stool pigeon
cautiously optimistic kickstarting
another futile attempt dagnabbit
experiencing prestige,
oh...and by the way...,
no animal harmed
regarding made for video poem
gamely capturing quarry scotched,
nor gruesome scene
synonymous quasi abattoir
representative bird den sum
bloodless coup deeming
endeavor par excellence.
Fingers madly scramble
to poach skittering idea
fry day most ideal
omelette ya know,
aye feel yolked to defeatism,
one after another faux
promising brainstorm egging
quickly flitting inaccessible
potential flash in frying pan
just as fast dashing
into bajillion pieces
shell shocked scrivener
scribbling lame as duck
goose laying golden egg...
dropping immediately out of sight,
maybe best resigning forlorn
inchoate never albumen,
albeit quite linguistic stretch for
(all be human success story)
prospects beyond reach
ova this wretch
New York Times
bestseller author jinxed
forever dooming yours truly
grinding poverty my ill fate.
Pursuit for elusive prey
teases yours truly
into treacherous catacombs
dangerous mentally
challenging pitfalls,
sets small hairs of back
on camp creeks edge
of night, where dark shadows
evoke outer limits
of twilight zone
prompting me constantly questioning
purposefulness, qua hair raising pursuit
embarking these modern roman times
all for naught,
nonetheless I chide self
failing to heed
emotional, mental, psychological...fallout
in sum re: springing Jack in the box reflex
to sally forth and earn kudos,
asper potential Prince Valiant.
Thus situated with blank computer screen
capacious external Lenovo for myopia
(and incessant squiggly floaters to boat),
this literary glutton for punishment
feverishly fixates to plumb depths
measuring morin 10,000
leagues under the see
ming lee impossible mission
to ensnare nearly extinct
fluttering, lyfting, shutterflying...
smarts to outwit unsuspecting
beak henning quest
tendering, tasting uber victory
quivering crossbow
targeting yawping
zoological discovery - channeling
primed with taut fletched arrow
on high alert for stool pigeon
cautiously optimistic kickstarting
another futile attempt dagnabbit
experiencing prestige,
oh...and by the way...,
no animal harmed
regarding made for video poem
gamely capturing quarry scotched,
nor gruesome scene
synonymous quasi abattoir
representative bird den sum
bloodless coup deeming
endeavor par excellence.
Fingers madly scramble
to poach skittering idea
fry day most ideal
omelette ya know,
aye feel yolked to defeatism,
one after another faux
promising brainstorm egging
quickly flitting inaccessible
potential flash in frying pan
just as fast dashing
into bajillion pieces
shell shocked scrivener
scribbling lame as duck
goose laying golden egg...
dropping immediately out of sight,
maybe best resigning forlorn
inchoate never albumen,
albeit quite linguistic stretch for
(all be human success story)
prospects beyond reach
ova this wretch
New York Times
bestseller author jinxed
forever dooming yours truly
grinding poverty my ill fate.
Worse Than Christine
I am a glutton for punishment, as you shall soon see,
I had an Austin Healey Sprite, or more rightly, it had Me!
Had I looked up the name in Webster’s, I would have known, oh, so well,
That to own and to drive one, was a short trip to Hell!
The word “Sprite” means disembodied spirit, or ghost,
I must say, spirit is what it had the most,
When I say “spirit,” you think that is good,
But I can tell you, only Evil lies under that hood!
Made in England, the wettest civilized country on Earth,
To not waterproof the ignition must have caused them great mirth!
To clean the windshield, I threw a cup of water on it, gave the wipers a tweak,
That miserable creation would not start for a week!
It was one of the smallest, by far,
Some folks did not believe that it was even a car!
There was an advantage to its size,
When the starter was broken(quite often), I could develop my thighs!
There were other parts, that when new, should have been in a dump,
It had the World’s worst, most cantankerous, electric fuel pump!
It would click a few times, then shudder, and stammer,
The only way to fix it, a blow from a hammer!
All the owners had one, tied under the hood,
The rock hard suspension hit the fuel pump real good!
Luckily, in Southern California, there is not too much rain,
Trying to put up the top, an adventure in pain!
I used to donate blood, but when I got the Sprite, I could not go,
Because of cuts and scratches from the top, I was always a quart low!
It was Pure Evil, with no endearing features,
But the final straw, for me, involved the most beautiful creatures,
Fathers would have been happy if they knew what I discovered one night,
It is ABSOLUTELY impossible to get a girl pregnant in an Austin Healey Sprite!
We want bigger homes
And a smaller family.
We want mountain tops and
Flowers in the valley.
We want more convenience,
We have less time.
We all have our hills and
Mountains to climb.
We want more degrees,
But no common sense.
We want things to change,
Yet, we are on the fence.
We want more knowledge,
We have less judgement.
We have more crime,
A glutton for punishment.
We want more experts, yet we
Create bigger problems.
We expect what we plant
To blossom.
We want more medicine,
But we're less healthy.
Everyone is getting fat,
But the wealthy.
We have been to the moon
And back.
We have lost our way,
On the wrong track.
We built more computers to
Hold more information.
To make conversation, we open
More lines of communication.
We want more quantity,
We get less quality.
We want equal rights, yet
Deal with equality.
We want a variety of fast foods,
We have slow digestion.
We want the first date
To pop the question.
We want to be taller,
We are short on character.
We want to meet new people,
Yet there is a barrier.
We want more profits, yet we
Have shallow relationships.
We want more friends,
But we have fewer partnerships.
Our garages are full,
Our homes are empty.
We want it to be colder,
We become more sweaty.
Turbo1904 ?
Belts, paddles, switches, and rulers were once instruments of punishment.
Although very rarely, in my early years, a belt was Daddy's favorite.
I was always a quick learner and never a glutton for punishment.
Some believe that both the home and the schools presently bear the
results of unwisely changing the rules with regard to curtailing
bad behavior. Others think, 'Good riddance'. Others call for balance.
When corporal punishment of kids was applied and acceptable,
whether handed down at home or in school, there were always
those who never seemed to be persuaded to alter their behavior.
As a result, punishment was repeated whether proper or not.
Neither the applier nor the recipient ever learned any lesson.
However, there would be tears, sometimes by the applier also.
I suspect both learned "To WEEP THE TEARS THAT NEVER LEARN".
Perhaps the misapplied method was bad medicine for Donnie.
Perhaps tenured teacher Miss Peterson wept tears of failure.
It should be noted that life is complicated and gives rise to many
mysteries. Such convoluted mysteries often force us "TO WEEP
THE TEARS THAT NEVER LEARN". As for corporal punishment, I wish.
I wish that it had been abolished when I was a kid. Many troubled kids
turn out to be the best of citizens. And I've observed that many parents
and teachers despise the pain medicine they administer. Need I say More?
Pain has never scared me
The chance of a cut or scrape never once made me wary
Watching the blood rush to the surface following a freshly scraped knee
When I was little, first intrigued me
As time moved on pain took new forms
Evolving from nicks and bumps to aching emotional sores
Though the threat of a new gash to my soul
Did not slow me down as I went down and down the rabbit hole
New people, new faces, I let them all inside my heart
Even after it was shattered, crushed, and ripped apart
One relationship after another, hoping one would do better than the last
Desperately hoping the pain would drown out my past
The suffering boils over to a blade against my skin
Not from surgery by a doctor, but my own masochist fruition
Thinking causing more pain would dull out the rest
When all it really did was place a heavier burden on my chest
Though now those moments have come and gone
Pain still draws me with its sweet lulling song
I am a true "glutton for punishment" as they say
Living life with the motto of all work and very little play
Pain that once haunted me I now revel in
It is different you see when I safely let the bruises bloom against my skin
No more mental anguish I am trying to release
Just the gentle caress of pain chaperoning me to peace
Once upon a time, I abused it to cope
Now I use it to bring myself nothing but hope
My weaknesses kill me as they are amplified
With painful memories I want to hide
I endured your wrong doing that never did rightl
By me while I stayed faithful by your side
Accused of things you did and lied
About everything and selfishly tried
Taking what you could of anything mine
Losing to you while the old me died
I was a glutton for punishment needing suicide
Sickeningly full from swallowing pride
Despite how many times you made me cry
Giving into what I thought I wanted mine
A fantasy that trapped me with my hands tied
With willingness to work through the fight
Being together, when all we did was collide
I allowed you too much space in my mind
I will never go back or press rewind
Back to us with me trying to hide
From what seemed like endless slowing of time
Anguished with heartache I took in stride
Closer to my limit with every crossed line
You tried to break me into your design
Convinced I was not already a dime
In reality you wanted me obliviously blind
Like you were to everything keeping you alive
Now only flesh of all things unforgettably unkind
To everything in me that brings to light
Unconditional love you had by your side
Now a hate that wishes you would have just died
Form:
Addiction
I ask myself at times
Why do I do this to myself?
Am I a glutton for punishment?
Or is it something else
I can't put my finger on it
But one thing is true
My life revolves around you
You're a drug
Or some kind of bug
That makes me sick
When I get a fix
I'm hooked I cannot lie
But I cannot sever this tie
For you my infection
No, you're my addiction
I'm too far in
To escape you're grasp
I do what ever you ask
No matter what the task
I ask my self "Why?
Because every time
I take a dose of you
It tears my heart in two
You're a drug
Or some kind of bug
That makes me sick
When I get a fix
I'm hooked I cannot lie
But I cannot sever this tie
For you my infection
No, you're my addiction
I need a cure
Rehabilitation or more
But I want to be myself again
I just want it to end
But I know everything happens for a reason
You're a drug
Or some kind of bug
That makes me sick
When I get a fix
I'm hooked I cannot lie
But I cannot sever this tie
For you my infection
No, you're my addiction
How long will this addiction last?
No one knows but me
I shape my story
Soon it will pass
Once I learn from my past
Beautiful angel fallen from grace
Abandoned from the gods she trusted, who she loved
Branded as a betrayer
Her wings clipped, banished from her heaven leaving her holiness behind
Revenge coursing through her veins
Evile as her prime objective
In the clutches of Satan, chained, obeying his every order, bearing his mask
Becoming a demonic figure, a sadist, enjoying the pain of Angels
Standing against her gods with the seven daggers of sin
The more lives she claims, the more her greed festers
There is no grace, no hope, no love, and no faith within the sloth
A glutton for punishment, but she is impervious
Face her wrath, let her kill, so viewtiful as the corpses pile, eaten by the scavengers of hell
A lust for vengeance is her lover, the only thing that pleases her
Taking pride in every dastardly deed she commits, holding on to it like an unborn child
Green with envy for her former comrades, she slays them all, the last god has met their end
Holding their severed head to the dusk sky
She soaks in grace’s blood, but she is not satisfied
Lucifer will meet his end as well, by her hands