Scornful Poems

Choked Bloom

The girl weeps a bruised and bitter rain,
A childhood choked, a garden grown in pain.
My laughter, brittle glass, it cracks and breaks,
Beneath the weight of unforgiving stakes.

They built a fortress, walls of rigid stone,
And left my heart a barren, windswept zone.
No lover's hand to soothe, no gentle gaze,
Just scornful whispers in a hateful maze.

Each hallway echoes with a judging eye,
A constant feeling that I want to die.
They see a monster where a child should bloom,
And fill my days with ever-present gloom.

The books lie open, pages blurred with tears,
School's a torment, fueling all my fears.
A secret festers, a corrosive blight,
Consuming hope, and plunging me in night.

I paint a smile, a mask of purest white,
To hide the shadows lurking in the light.
But when the moon ascends its lonely throne,
The tears return, and I am all alone.

A burden I believe, a whispered curse,
This aching need to flee, to be dispersed.
The razor sings a siren's tempting call,
A fragile promise to escape it all.

The girl weeps, a final sigh,
A whispered plea to simply die,
My childhood dead, a silent tomb, 
Lost in this endless aching gloom.

Headache

This headache is killing me.
Beating through my skull, this throbbing pain.
It's so constant and that might be the worst part.
Sitting alone in my bed slowly dying 
right in front of the ghosts.
They find it to be so disrespectful,
Me wasting my youth alone in the dark.
They judge me with scornful and familiar faces.
They almost, just almost, look like my friends and family.
So all pressure from their gazes hurt that much more.
But the pain never ends, 
because even when they look away.
My head still hurts

I Tried to Unlearn

I Tried to Unlearn

……. his name , his face, his memory
but each morning they kept resurfacing;
rubber ringed feelings that would not sink 
no matter how hard I pushed down.
So I journeyed to places 
that had rooted our relationship:

The park where the broad-shouldered oak
unwrapped delicacies of intimate memories
then leaning in much closer
it shared a consolatory shadow.

The river that coiled past
churned up affectionate thoughts
then rippled onwards to twist back
with a scornful smirk that made fun of me.

The café where he teased
about expressoing our shared ideas
and consolidating coffee compatibility.
Then on the butterfly wings of symmetry 
our relationship seemed to fly to new heights
but was I another Icarus on a solo flight?

So the past that I had plucked at
offered no signs of warning, no signals of regret;
sadly the present, the here and now,
yields no guidance on how to….. forget.

Ian Souter

Scornful Nostalgia

Dew doth drop with gentle hue,
On petals tinged a bashful blue,
As bees swoon to swollen pollen;
I crave back that view to fall in;
‘Tis you, ‘tis you.

As sea kisses the night sky,
Before day doth due the two goodbye,
I lie; a rock on thine tender shore;
And beg thou to crash upon forever more.

But; by then, thou hast gone awry.
Like petals wilt ‘neath autumn sky;
And soon to winter must it succumb,
Casting the world into its snowy sanctum
Long with frigid grasps to cage mine heart;
As I know that thou from I, must hence depart.

I; numb. Aye; numb.

The Chaos in my Heart

A gift of perpetual silence,
from a deafening scornful frequency;
Eternal tranquility, we chase,
so is it considered victory?
Victorious it must feel,
for the one who departs abrupt;
In the halt prior to mine,
leaving a chaos in my heart.

Yapping

• Will you, won't stop your yapping?
• Leaving me scornful with my foot tapping
• Should you, need you waste our time?
• Bickering about needless and petty things
• Do learn to mute it sometime
• 'Cause my leave will leave me with glee
• With the knowledge that I'm finally free

Sonnet 10: Self Worth

If I proclaim my visage fair and true,
Who dares to counter what my lips declare?
If I resist the thoughts that evil brew,
Whose aim it is to strip my pride laid bare?

Who shall oppose the judgment I bestow,
When in my heart such certainty is found?
For I am shaped by hands that grace doth know,
By Heaven’s will, in beauty I am crowned.

No fool shall judge the worth that I possess,
For in my gaze, pure confidence resides;
In God’s own image, I am formed, no less,
And in His love, no flaw in me abides.

But lo, the world doth cast its scornful eye,
And whispers doubt in tones of dark disdain;
Yet I stand firm, beneath the open sky,
For truth and virtue shall my soul sustain.

With courage bold, I rise against the tide,
And break the chains of every mocking voice;
In strength of spirit, I shall e’er abide,
For in my worth, I make a steadfast choice.

Who dares defy the truth I here proclaim?
For in His sight, I stand without a shame.
Let all who question know, I am but steel,
And none shall shake the faith that I reveal.

Pathetic Ballad of Mrs Longpre

The woman next door yells Help me!
She swears like a  sailor 
Is she insane or that's her game ?
She’s a bloody wailer

Inside my room,”pipe down” I yell
In hall I say, “quiet” 
In her room, she yells  “Go to Hell”
This hap’s  a bloody riot

She screams follies, I get no peace
Full of gall what a whore.
I wish her scornful ways would cease
Her style cruel that’s for sure.

She complains about the food here
The food here I can’t stand 
She gripes about service yah hear
Two points she gets ok.

If she does want better treatment 
Please do not use trash talk 
The staff will so take  care of you
Folks who pass her won’t gawk.

People chasing the truth

utter the past
chase the line of least discourse
hark a time in the distance
don't blame the numbers in the sand
lichen will cover the scornful
a distant cove as cover
the place before the vetch
I did not choose it
A gift utterly unloved
by a familial sky

TORMENTED

Tears beyond pour
Heart sour
Anguished words and thoughts
I question my well being
Seeming with no prosper
All I hear is words, but no encouragement
Only just
No must
Standing alone for myself
I am beaten and torn within my own battle
No victory, but defeat
Perhaps I am scornful and doubtful
Life on end
I yell but my voice echoes back
I shout for help
It became a yield
Some see it as useless and no pity
The until for too long
The Heaven’s see me as wonderful
I see myself dreadful 
I thirst, but can’t drink
My mind wanders into no think
I am like a dead rose with no suppose
Death seems to be my trademark
One scar into numerous
Tormented no more.

The Cycle 6: Twins

Flourishing begins. In the balance
jewels sparkling green and blue.
Tentative fronds with daunting climb
from warming depths, ever upwards.
Scornful Giant rages above; life fuel.
Spiteful rising waters are smothering -
cooling; organic in purposeful desire. 
Random chance repeats changes again;
ancient pathfinding revealing providence.
An algorithm in time. Ever learning. 
Reaching failures educate young
unthinking minds, of the the Twins.
Twin jewels in promise and destiny,
wards kept close; safe from the abyss. 
Lifting them up to mind’s canopy,
as roots raise trees to the sky.
Generations immeasurable past.
Vaunted consciousness long awaited.
Looked upon the sky and were.
Children of the Twins.

Himalaya

In tertiary times, when two continents adrift
Titanically collided to tectonically uplift
The gasping ocean floor
Resurrected up once more
Left the water for the land;
Five miles high it made its stand.

And to these youthful mountains (that is as mountains go)
The monsoon clouds paid homage as they gathered far below
They strongly spouted fury and made the foothills wet
But the scornful Himalayas dried the plateau of Tibet

And then the disbelievers from the atheistic West
Where time is not a circle and there is no Ever-rest
Defiled up the silent crags
At the peak they planted flags
You, Himalaya, tried to hide those flags with snow
But...
We know.

Only Good Wishes

An enthralling entrancing time of the year,
When we are pensive and reflect on spiritual bliss,
Memories come back tiptoeing, joyful or sad,
Treasured friends and loved ones - we reminisce!

Emerald waves breaking on sand, griefs and
Heartaches, overwhelm with remorse, and care,
In the innermost, saddest corner of our mind,
Ring some unsought tinge of dismal despair.

Not aware who my scornful enemies were,
Never thought, disliked anyone with contempt,
Prayed ardently for their safety and wellbeing,
No harm was asked for, absolutely no attempt!

Let all human beings live in harmony…negativity, 
Enmity doesn't solve any bitter problem, 
Wishing happiness for everyone, close and far,
My heart feels peaceful, delighted, and solemn!

Lyrebird

Songs and chords they sing to us
Almost every day,
Some are very musical
Some just sing their way.
Though today when I was tuning in
I heard it word for word
The message from the greatest ave
Our clever lyrebird…

“I’ve talked with all the animals
Of present circumstance 
The mourning of our people
From gifting such a chance
To share in all the beauty
You preserved and kept
Thrown back at you with scornful spew
And total disrespect.
We’ve witnessed all the suffering
That humans have endured,
How every time you rose above
Goodness you secured.
Harmony had come to be 
Right from the dreamtime
Lines are strong and never wrong
Where Peace is yours and mine.
So, You will overcome this
That conflict and that strife, 
Soon there’ll be tranquility 
And a happy life
Once there was for yet to be
The cycle carries on
Here upon our sacred land
Under our great Sun”

Then he looped around me
And vanished in the grass
Leaving me awakened
With glimpses of the past...

The Blackness and the Hard Labor of the Housemaid

The Blackness And The Hard Labor Of The Housemaid

Store up the spasms of the low rims of busy suns
trudging work tills the upheaval of ragged soil
and what of shadow hours, sweat and hard toil
does indifferent soil its gasping unholy vomit spill
she folds the clothes and then she falls asleep.
Trudge the hours and crack the unwilling stones
as her shadow walks into bars of uneven ethereal mists
the dark red rouge smears in round about shy patterns
she wonders, where does brown dung of yesterday hide
She slaves as a worker, her tired muscles cramp
her mind drifts and then it accuses her of nothingness
today is for work, tomorrow the mice may play
her work is as ancient days a drifting into noon
she is bent as a scornful indifferent boothill
as she finally stops, yes stops, to dare to go to sleep.

Robert J. Lindley, Verse
June 2nd 1972

Note: My new girlfriend's mother is a housemaid. Works 6 days week about 12 hour a day/

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