Long Uncensored Poems
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The Devils Eye
The devils eye is TV
Broadcasting live constantly
Bathing viewers in primordial light
An eye that never sleeps
Changing viewers into the walking dead
With all the talking heads and pundits
In a sewer of endless excellence
Promising 24 hours a day of constant entertainment
With a small collection at the end
A simple fee, a cost for something trivial and lost
Reasonable compensation for time well spent
Chasing channels, surfing without end, searching for the perfect event
Sex, violence and immortality
The devils light, the devils eye, is always on
TV watches you. It’s watching you expire
It never sleeps
Always there to serve you as the master
On with the show! The show must go on!
You can’t stop watching uncensored things
Or be concerned with constant caustic interruptions while you sleep
Devils eye rolls to eternity with souls in tow
A road less traveled is the one between the sofa and TV set
Remote controls resolved that tedious choir
Work is wrong for couch potatoes to perform
What could a demonic eye crave more?
Down to the last commercial
Credits running unknown names
Etched on graves are questions posed by game show hosts
Including; what’s behind door number two and to tell the truth
Never worry about being bored
The devils eye has your number and knows the score
Make a noise!
What?
Something, anything that's going to get them movin'.
What?
The mouths.
Mouthe's huh?
The story is told with the mouth.
So is the ******.
Not really, well anything can tell you anything more than that! But this is starting in a tiny village next to Wimbly's Cafe where they serve Italian food Ala carte.
They didn't want to be fancy, these where in-breeders.
No such thing...
They didn't like action unless it was uncensored and back wood.
So?
It was all a dream man!
So.
So be outspoken and move on! Those are baddies! They are bridgeable gaps! Something from an invisible makeshift mah!
The most dangerous sicknesses are those that make us believe we are well.
Lauren Oliver
sunrise transcends from thousand white moons
enamelling specks of gold over a vast mindscape
untamed ocean, hypnotic in opulence of delight
losing in timeless fathom, all beginnings and ends
In daze of hazel eyes, a pale destiny painted red
concoction of stardust in resplendent phoenix flame
Iconic images in mesmeric limerance of rhapsody
play a subtle movie, in slow tempo, treble with bass.
An entangled world of uncensored thoughts meander
condescending a center of cinematic subconscious
dissembling into a daydream swimming wonderlands
Van Gogh's Starry Nights seducing languorous senses.
a pleasant hangover , still drunk in my weariness,
don't wake me, I'm piqued in amor deliria nervosa*
an everlasting fantasy stretches in kohl of my eyes,
an Illusion of life gasping, or is it death in disguise?
*Amor Deliria Nervosa (or just deliria) is a disease in the fiction series Delirium Trilogy by Lauren Oliver. It is set in a dystopian world where love is considered a disease called Amor Deliria Nervosa, but scientists have invented a cure for it.
18th July 2020
Sponsor Kai Michael Neumann
Contest Name Delirium |
If I have the time I'll write a letter old fashioned and serene
Hand crafted silk coated paper from my smouldering memory box
Let time stand still switch of the phone and turn back the clocks
Caress my pen and stroke the message to give it some sheen
As if on its own the quill releases memory gaps at the court of kin
Scratches the bottom of an ink pot in weary calligraphed weeping
Pauses for smudged words and tackles guilt which was sleeping
Uncensored and honest it resists to crumble the pages into the bin
Sentences assemble under an onslaught of consciousness' streams
Clouds of doubt loom large and write over the margin at both sides
Why on earth did we have to argue so much in belligerent nights
Until exhaustion won the battle of opinions and unfulfilled dreams
I'm not convinced any longer we strove for truth decisive and brave
Egos hindered a more peaceful exchange of generational disputes
Grounded in self-righteousness that poisoned love at vulnerable roots
Today I mourn those wasted moments and post an apology to your grave
26th December 2019
On this Day
On this day,
the lonesome vine broke,
A cargo ejected at nature's will,
blood shatters from the womb
another life from Life brought forth.
On this day,
umbilical cord severed
the conception ripened
A body clothed in innocence
untainted from the womb of Nature
on this day.
The mind in obscurity wonders
The passage from unknown to the world
untutored, unlearned unweaned.
what's the mission here ?
On this day
A servant of time,
A product of Prayer
sustained through unceasing plea.
Live said He, Live,
From this day
ecstasy transforms into realities.
from the first cry,
the breath, garnished looks and smiles.
to uncensored path from dissipating paean.
And this day,
the whole earth waits for the manifestation,
Who, what, where, and when?
A fire brand Ready to burn.
Thou quickening power of the spirit of Life,
set the fire ablaze.
unabashed anticipation
unblemished appreciation
unbridled exhilaration
uncensored imagination
unceremonious recreation
unchartered exploration
uncomplicated communication
unconfined aspiration
undreamt creation
unfading veneration
unfathomable exaltation
uninhibited expectation
unleashed fascination
unlimited inspiration
unprecedented celebration
unrehearsed reconciliation
unscheduled relaxation
unsolicited cooperation
unsurpassed vacation
unswaying determination
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on January 4, 2018 for contest NEW YEAR_RHYME sponsored by JANICE CANERDY - RANKED 3RD
As par and parcel of being
alive wire impossible aye
to maintain totally tubularly
literarily celibate by and bye
with parochial restraint antiseptic dry
as dust poetic refrains
asper this healthy older guy
devoid of physical whim zee
unlike a inscrutable eunuch...so hi
there dear reader experienced
by this self contrived Zen
minded nonestablishmentarian outlier,
whose nonconformist yen
tries to steer clear of controversy,
heresy, prurient wen
unless one happened
to be eunuchized,
i.e. sexless as a cold oven,
but similar to generic men
this writerly hen
pecked husband dully
drumming, droning, and
dribbling as a lix spittle
aged chap housed within
Schwenksville, Pennsylvania bailiwick
though far less inclined
to whet ma lil atrophied dipstick
than some young buck
at the peak of his sexual prowess
every now and again viz,
aye feel a much slighter sensation
drubbing, crackling, and
buckling mine body electric
and attempt to record
re: font ten blue type
boldface and/or Italic
such infrequently occurring
fleeting Johnson magic
speculating why the
hoo ha regarding mystic
spell binding codas,
dogmas, and enigmas,
an integral component naturalistic
within the calculus of life,
when human species
(parenthetically), naturally, inherently,
and biologically opportunistic
akin to other organisms whose quixotic
antics allow NON GMO,
MSG, and gluten free,
and uncensored discussion
asper reproductive habits rhapsodic
with floral and/or faunal symphonic
emanations donning each their own
"NON FAKE" trumpeting
spectacular humbly modest
rubric, yet...universalistic
as being linkedin
within the cosmic whirled wide web.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Each morning I count his breaths,
then the pills, then grocery lists,
then hypotheticals~
mornings brittle as eggshells
in a too-empty carton.
His breath, a slow tidal~
my lighthouse flickers nightly.
What shore waits for me
when the waves recede elsewhere,
barefoot on cold linoleum?
My skin is like tracing paper,
each crease a story no one reads~
who'll turn my frail pages
when my hands forget their alphabet?
Our pills rattle like dice
in the ceramic bowl.
I count his ribs through
the thinning cotton~
his breathing
the only clock I trust.
We planted oaks once~
roots deep, outlasting our bones.
Now their shade stretches,
but who will sit under them
when our names are just leaves?
Wintertime: snow fills the entry way.
Neighbors salt their own first.
I should've had sons~
or daughters who'd remember
how ice clings to old bones longest.
I imagine a future in which
the nurse’s smile stings.
Just ring if you need help, dear~
as if the button’s reach
isn’t the whole aching distance
between pride and the floor.
Meet me in the Woods
Under the Open Sky,
The Autumn Roads
of fallen leaves left behind,
At dusk or dawn
when its not too bright,
The drizzle of flowing River
Across us shall lie,
A splash of Air
over our faces ; Our feets shall be
at such heights,
And we still be rooting
For far mountains of snow shine.
While we rest at the end of steep hill,
listening to the heaviness of our breath
taken over by the Whistling Wind
Unruled by the time span ;
We gaze through the thin Air,
Until each of us have softened
our hands and laid down our backpack.
The Mystery of our silence
warmed up in burning flames of Fire,
And we smile along with
the song being played on the Wire ,
We fell asleep
Amidst watching the Stars dazzling
on to the Vantablack Sky,
And hearing the night creatures
as each of us silently lie.
Whole Night sensing some Vibe,
We crawl under our blankets
the Coldness touches Us
from some random Site .
The Uneasiness telling us it’s the Time
We start our journey
to not miss what usually is kept disguised.
Its Stepping on the fresh layer of White
our foot prints as if imbibed ,
The white piercing the darkness
fuels Us with excitement and
Victory over our Pride.
Our numbness called
once the nature unleashed its Surprise,
The round Sun rising along
and throwing its light.
Our eyes refraining to open
We in a total mesmerize,
Determined We watched
as far as we could; Rising up with shine.
The purity was beyond Sanity
We saw the Sun Nurture
the Snow fallen here last night,
Like a mother soothes
her baby curled up in her arms as tight.
And it seeped in us,
deep where our soul cries ,
Moist eyes carried the vulnerabilities
the ones our heart forever whined.
Here I meet Me ;Uncensored ,Wild
for the very First time.
Imagine that you die,
Then
The day of your judgment comes,
No, you are not judged in secret
But
You are judged in plain view of all,
Your loved ones that have left
Before you:
Grandparents, parents, brothers, sisters,
Friends, your darling, your priest, your teachers,
All those who thought you were a great guy.
You are sitting down,
Not knowing what to expect,
Waiting
Hoping
Praying for
All to be over soon in silence, and the
Sentence to pass and get what you
Deserve
But
Instead, you see your whole life to appear on
The most amazing, huge and cyclical 3D screen or
Even better in holograms
That
Are as real as reality could ever be
So
Every instant of your life, uncensored, is displayed for all to see
Thus
All what you have:
Thought,
Said,
Done,
In every detail, is presented and nothing is kept secret,
Every good and evil thought, word, act will be on hand
So, everyone, of the spectators will become a witness of
Your whole life, your actions, your motives
Then
When all is over and all have seen what you have ever done
You will be asked to judge yourself,
To pass the sentence you think you deserve,
In other words
To send yourself to Hell or to Paradise.
I do not know about you, my friends,
But
If things happen that way, as I am afraid they are,
To hell I will send myself without second thought
For
I strongly believe that I never had any right to commit
Any injustice, no matter how small or trivial, against
God’s order!
PS: Forgot to tell you there is no way to appeal your case
But
Always there is the possibility of redemption, if the soul,
Truly and honestly repents, before God and men alike
And
Humbly asks for mercy!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
30 January 2016