Spurting Poems | Examples

Butt out - humour warning!

Bill prodded his sebaceous cyst
‘Twas massive the size of his fist
It spurted green pus
His wife made a fuss
“Get treatment NOW, I must insist”

Blue lighted to the A & E
Huge spurting cyst medics could see
Bill’s livid butt boil
Made doctor’s recoil
Needs lancing now, they all agree

They bundle Bill onto a table
“Don’t sedate him” said his wife Mable
I will succinctly put
He’s a pain in the butt
I’m leaving him when I am able

The medics gave Bill’s boil a prick
Green gunky pus splurts, it’s so thick
Poor Mable was heaving
She said, “Bill I’m leaving
Because you’re an ignorant dick”

“You wouldn’t seek treatment for years
Your constant moans left me in tears
I’ll file for divorce
I’m leaving of course
I’m going to live in Algiers”!

Bills visage turned ever so pale
His final breath he did exhale
The cad passed away
There’s no more to say
I’ve finished the end of this tale!

Weary Is My Mind

Weary Is My Mind

I promise, I swear, I will never, I will always
That blaring sentiment of a pattering ghost that I detest
Among the empty hollowing of her mouth and eyelids
There lies darkness deep and unending that I fell into once, 

never again.

Baffled and naked, afraid and convinced I was nearing my hearse
She runs screaming, yelping in madness as her body falls dead
Once I thought I knew, but as fate would incline
The truth would be only a weapon and shield–vulnerable. . .

never again.

The prating sound squawks as death marks before her squalid breathy voice
Her pupils' contract like a viper’s hint at prey, pouncing, and then devouring
The blood is left spattering and spurting among my grey, hollow walls
Only her wedded can clean out the muck as I have given up,

never again.

Coiling around me with her slippery scales, the precipice of my demise
The sword and the shield once though best, were only cardboard copies
My soul is shattered, and my will is blank, giving into her sweet, nectary venom
The forefront of my being is gone. . . crushed under a blanket of rue

For Weary Is My Mind

Altruistic Blues and Whites

As the wind cascades out in a frenzy motion 
Nephophilia, a thudder crave 
Exclamation is a sudden urge 
Since soft cotton candies switches to pastels and iridescents 
Looking up close 
Still immeasurably far 

The old regime of sunrise and sunsets finna come up to horizon 
where moons and suns collide 
stars surrounding them
blues and whites around them 
casting shadow of white daisies 
So small and wrecked
spurting a yelp of joy, when a cold breeze wheezed out 

In blues and whites 
they gleam 
As a boon to the demure daisies 
It is eternal 
Feverishly eternal 

When they run about in adorbs 
It is mushiness and sweetness scattered all over in the morn 

This is where I am, in this season 
the season to hold upon these clouds 
to hold as tight as it gotta be 

This season is everlasting 
this season to swim the length of the sky 

Just for the blues and whites 
Just for the blues and whites...

I BREATHE

I BREATHE

In the beginning, new to this world
I breathe, and probably cry in shock
Then the search for mother’s breast
Some comfort restored, a life to live

And in the spurting growth of youth
I breathe, with a readiness to engage
As challenges appear on the horizon
To trigger that life experience thing

As hard-won maturity slows the pace
I breathe, partly to welcome a pause
Both brain and heart had their time
Lessons learned, when remembered

At the end, now all’s said and done
I breathe, as if finally sensing liberty
No more heavy armour to be worn
And now feel that lightness of spirit

Every Man

I live in every man's struggles.
I lose myself in the crowd;
Everyone has a story of loss,
Of a childhood that ended abruptly,
Transmogrified into juvenile gods,
Worshipping, genuflecting, reacting,
Pale with the anguish of bent backs.
And every man lives in me,
As I in him, today and yesterday;
Ancestors and inheritors, possessors,
Crossing oceans, discovering realms,
Absorbing losses, sensing kinship
In the spurting blood of the enemy,
Enemy men, who say goodbye forever
To the children and mothers left behind.
I see myself in every man, even the enemy;
In the war cry, the final guttural effort
To resist the pale-faced smallpox carrier.

My Cat, Lover

Here I sit
composing juices spurting
spewing, gushing, splashing,
dripping every wall!

like Mount Etna awakened
my mind erupting with poetic
genius 

like Roman Candles
on 4th of July

up hops lover, the cat

he tangles my hands

mounts the keyboard
demanding, purring

I say, "lover, have you no
respect for art, for my
exquisite, rarer singular mind producing -- 

he meows

needfully reminds me

"nothing more important than
petting" --

Epitome Of Existence

With empty capacious containers 
the living entities 
arrive arrogant 
and depart desolate,
in between turn into 
greed slaves to snatch
the unearned fortune,
getting sucked spellbound 
within abyss of temptation.

In the inferno of 
corporeal passion temporal,  
the frenetic flare 
laced by luring lust
debases the fervent feeling 
of platonic pining,
but in blooming love 
it can sparkle sublime
with the patina of penchant.

The chase of mirage 
in the deceptive ego desert 
etches the fragile footprints 
of delusive dominance
with sandstorm trajectory,
but the squall of strife 
over the dune of dwindled life
subsides in the inner space 
of latent love configured
in the conceded cauldron 
of self-less surrender.

In the blazing realm 
of connived conflict 
sane senses of sobriety 
turn into cinder,
flaming the fiber of prudence,
but the shower of sagacity,
spurting from love fountain 
with divine flamboyance
douses the fire of disdain
and
with the allayed ashes 
fabricates the framework 
of cordially congruent 
epitome of existence.

Forgiveness

In your glaring eyes I see an inferno of anger within, 
you splutter words of malicious mind like the acid rain,
as sane senses turning into ember ashes rise in my view.

I don’t abandon you in the cruel cauldron of hatred, 
nor do I blaze you in the flame of rabid retaliation instead, 
for fire can’t douse fire, as wrath in my soul you can’t spew.

I inundate you in flow of forgiveness spurting like fountain,
shower of absolution drenches you, douse the fire of disdain,
you rise from ashes of remorse at the burnt edge of calm true.

I pray to God, for strength of mind and wisdom of sense,
so I can absolve the sinners, a pledge of my sincere essence, 
forgive kindly others for wrong doing, I plead my soul to pursue.

Champagne and Caviar

Colonel Volkov would surely impress the lovely Anastasia
     His limousine driver pulled up at the Palace of the Czar

   Taking lovely Anastasia by her dainty hand
     Volkov would introduce her to champagne and caviar

   Bowing gracefully before his highness
     From his scabbard Volkov pulled his gleaming sword

   Unexpectedly, the Czar did the same, frightening the dame
     Blushing, she implored the mustachioed figure in haughty red

   "I thought to have a pleasant evening, dine to fine music
     Home to a bubble bath, and perhaps spread out in bed ..."

   "I see," the Czar sneered, and said, fondling his sword
     "You've both come this far, let's see your earn your board" 

    With a lunge at Volkov, the Czar pierced his skin
      Blood spurting everywhere ~ foretaste of 'the ugly Russian'

A Religious Affair

Turrets are turning,
behind the tanks
exhausts are farting death clouds,
barrels, like angry dicks,
are hot, erect and spurting,
buildings erupt, climaxing
on TV screens.

On both sides of these yonder hill
where the redline bleeds,
blank-eyed children,
play their video games,
while trying to overhear
a merciful God at His prayers.

Thursday Morning's Thoughts Expanded On Friday

Written by Gail DeBole
On October 12, 2023
Updated on October 13, 2023

These words that pour out from thoughts.
Randomly without making patterns, at first.

OK. Sometimes making random patterns.
Spurting out and mixing like
Ingredients for a batter.

Swirls like nothing else.
Until cohesive in my mind.
Maybe not in yours.

Meaning in my world.
Sometimes in yours.

Meaning that sometimes escapes me
Until a future epiphany crystallizes.

Orange grapes floating in a sea of waves.
Meaning and importance that can be suspect.

See what I mean?

They all end up on this screen.

I Am Blood

I AM BLOOD

I am blood, representing strong emotion
Pumping strongly from a distressed heart
I was merely a gentle and constant flow
Now, suddenly a geyser forcefully spurting
The cause is not ecstasy, as it is hurting
Whatever the reason, I would not know
I’m also the messenger sent at the start
And in time, all will gain a clearer notion

it’s not just blood when hearts pour out 
More a vibration one can sense and feel
There are signs that some may detect
But with both eyes closed, it is clear
To see resonance that comes with fear
That stifling a thought cannot protect
And feeling raw emotion is very real
As knowing the truth dispels all doubt

Platonic Embrace

love with love flirts
feel bliss spurting
exert no more

People Who Cannot Feel Pain

Only one in twenty-five thousand have CIP.
CIP stands for congenital analgesia.
This means you cannot feel pain.
Sounds good huh?

Not if you see blood spurting out of your toddler.
And the tip of his tongue is on the floor.
Children with CIP do not know when they are sick.
Unless chicken pox pops out, their parents do not know either.

So it is important to take their temperature.
There is no cure for CIP.
Your child can have severe oral cavity damage and not feel it.
This is why regular dentist and doctor visits are imperative.

Being impervious to pain feels good unless you are limping.
Because you broke your ankle three days ago.
Or you are spreading flu all over town,
because you do not know you have it.
Proof that people who cannot feel pain still have problems.

NATURE OF TRUTH : Part 2

[ Poet’s Note :  This is the second of two poems personifying Truth ]

NATURE OF TRUTH : Part Two 

Truth shot point blank through
the centre of her forehead 
blood spurting, soiling fine furs of 
humanoids at play with slick lies 
and shallow Hansard words
trying to acupuncture Truth

Blood that stains and weeps and 
                                   weeps
blood that runs and will not hide
Truth collapsing in a heap in a corner
                                   rise up again ! 
pulled firmly by the hair with wide 
                                      open fingers
Truth rise and rise and rise

dance with Courage
find amethysts in hard hearts of fear
cradle them to Moon for blessing 
connect with fluffy clouds where little 
girls see God

Truth !  be washed by midnight rain
plait yourself softly with invisible links
where choralists sing falsettos in 
unbroken voices

Truth then waltzes with Love
women with baby curls taste 
                                       hot bread

Truth springs up again and again 
She rises from oceans and 
mountains forever and ever

Right here !

©GhairoDanielsPoetryandSong1990

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