Short Voyeuristic Poems
Short Voyeuristic Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Voyeuristic by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Voyeuristic by length and keyword.
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Vicarious living
Voyeuristic addict
Vegetatively blissed
Viewer discretion, right
Volume blasts to the max
Vexed neighbour calls with axe
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Prying voyeur
Shining eye of heaven,
Why but this assunder?
Why call on our amorous souls
From the romance of silent night
By your glint throu' chunks and curtains?
Peeping Tom
Herald of waking dawn
Like a sexton calling sleepers
For morning prayer;
Why flash throu' the irises
Of our courting eyes?
Oh morning!
I weep to see you come so soon
In the company of this voyeuristic sun.
Politicians will be the end of me.
To cynical now to trust their lie!
To angry now to listen to:
Continuous disharmony,
Pointed conversations,
Loose denominations.
Finding flourishes,
As the mouth,
Drivels,
Contagonistic,
Voyeuristic,
Egotistic,
Unrealistic!
Politicians will be the end of me!
Polecats in harmony,
Conversations without relations!
Christian living,
Without forgiving!
Let's watch the morbid dance
asphyxiated sky romance
as spinning voyeuristic stars
control our hearts from space afar
We glued our hearts to the breaking news
the devastation, bone gutting bruise
bloated water to ignite the black death
we waited for the gulf to get over her wrath
And now, the dance's begun again
(the gulf takes jealous big sister's hand)
We watch helpless, sick from our organs within
We watch as the spinning of fury begins...
Maybe it’s the manifestation of boredome
to repeat habitually
these idiosyncratic escapes
from reality
An addiction of self texting
a selfie
a pornographic predilection
of voyeuristic internalization
of boredoms reality
Repeat, repeat, repeat
a mindless litany
in actions
prevent, prevent, prevent
the cat walk entrance
of very unfashionable
boredom
Boredoms wriggling worm
can turn
flight of fancy into a habits concern
and eat away the hours
in their passive mediocrity
Obama walked the aisle
Shaking hands and smooching cheeks,
The camera giving all of us
Some voyeuristic peeks.
One couldn’t help but notice, though,
The Secret Service men,
Whose faces filled the screen not once,
But over and again.
Somebody should have warned them
They were stealing all the thunder;
When they went home and saw themselves,
What did they think? I wonder.
Yet even more perplexing is,
Perhaps this question’s dumb,
But who exactly was Obama
Being shielded from?