It’s cold.
It’s cold in my lodes.
It’s cold in my cells.
It’s cold in my lobe.
My ears, blessed with plagued tint; your windmill of everlasting exasperation, pacifying the turmoil beneath my dermis.
Again, again, and again.
The recurring depiction inked onto the dip of my lips, the pink waning into the virtue of my ward.
The tears gash as I attempt to pelt away from the ceaseless predation I reluctantly melt into.
The eyes scan me head to toe; I remain a simple dispute to the contrary of my dearth.
The eyes strip me head to toe; I remain a simple fiction to the turpitude of their obscenity.
The eyes scourge me head to toe; I remain a simple anathema to the excretion of my blasphemy.
The exploited nudity travels beneath my tangible, under my demeaned stance of a humiliated vermin.
Nothing but a figurine carved into flesh.
Nothing but a mannequin scribed into skin.
Their degradation caresses the mortification of my fragility.
And the epithelium of my delicacy probes at me;
I’m not making it to 19.
Before the prelude
In vain you tried to come to them,
in darkness you returned to Me.
In dark you got your name condemned,
the sunlight you will never see,
They wiped away My plans for you,
offered to the god of greed,
reduced to cluster and tissue,
as god and judge they supersede.
Your eyes will not see the evil galore
the cruelty under the sun,
But I will demand retrieval for
the blood of My slaughtered sons.
Those hands I had designed to save,
choked your song before the prelude,
Given no chances but the grave,
sentenced for their turpitude.
"Hoping all your consequences are happy ones."
Bob Barker on Truth or Consequences
Mediacraft attacks could conclude
if words split wrong from right.
Grace and mercy would grant latitude
but truth would upend the fight.
Worthy upshot holds much in store
yet, integrity is worth much more
Worthy upshot
worthy upshot
would find mediacrats ending word wars
for lying is moral turpitude, depravity, sin.
But who finds truth absolute anymore?
Just a line or two to you..And them and some others too.'
I with my faults..And they're not few.' Took some time and
I will still.' To drop some comments through thick and thin
I used my mind, and value of lives, respect I guess these
Days is the 'word thats rife?' No copy and paste.' Yet thats
Not true..' Cause in the computer; I know of no glue.? So as
Artificial, as artifice does.' And after thinking.?? On all the above
I beleive I did my best.. In my intention and by emotives shove.' I note not many return replies..Still its God not me
With the seven eyes..? And yet He knew well all the while!!
I'd hear the whisper don't waste your style.' So again He's
Right just to let all know..' Don't be surprised if He ups and
Shows '
“Fathomless faith gets divine blessings to rise from the entrapping evil marsh” – Quote by Poet
On squalid quicksand you walked obsessed and weary,
gripped by the demons of sin as vicious as they could be,
sank in the destined depth of abhorrent abyss of bane,
wrapped within the despicable layers of livid disdain.
The lancet of immorality lacerated the ethical essence,
you had long tried in vain to protect within sane sense.
The grave for the soul slain by the stab of sordid sin,
you had dug contrite in the ground of anguish within.
As divine awareness ignited the candle of hope in you,
you perceived revived the conscience got kindled anew,
and lighted up the dark alley of introspection inherent,
you reached the self-illumined horizon of discernment.
With your being cleansed of the depraved turpitude slime
by the allusion of self-absorbed sense of sagacity prime,
at the lit fringe of life you see the shadow of the time still
when you were entrapped within the quagmire of evil.
He was clamored dead!
Without being stabbed,
Without being poisoned,
Without being sick:
The angels' arch summoned him
To see the Heavens and Hell
And samples of judging the just and the unjust.
He was diabolical in deeds!
Defining himself to be the Sun that shines
The comments proved he deserved such a decampment.
“Sing! the snob who did us turpitude has travelled," they retorted at the scene.
His body was demanded for a quick burial
But a few prayed to wait it till the next sunup.
The eyes of revenge were gravely opened!
Then, at down, in the sixth hour,
The heavenly bodies and hemispheres implored for an amnesty of chance
And Gabriel gave heed to their plea
Charging him to be reputable.
At mercy the masterful soul revisited its flesh
It behoved him to repair the very engine of his life.
That night, under the stars
Whispers of Gotham
Under the wide open sky
Don't bring trouble to the innocent
As the bombs keep falling
Our world burns
Our dreams lie under the rubble
They have violated sovereignty
Why trouble the innocent?
Written: January 14, 2023
Got a Lil too much body
Show too much am a hottie
Fantasy to your Ecstasy
But you ain't really care about this body
All you wanna drive a Bugatti
You ain't really wanna build up this story
Makin up authority
You ain't even see intensity
Bless the mother, the daughter in the…
That’s right all you want is your Lil mermaid
Turn round to stare
Cause medusa’s in my hair
And that’s not really fair.
"I wandered lonely as a cloud" -- William Wordsworth
I wandered lonely as a life
bereft of joy by reason’s cloud
to sling invective like a scythe
from perched on high, lofty and proud.
Naught from my lips but bile and scorn,
delight extinguished, long since shorn.
Imprisoned by my intellect,
I held my neighbor in disdain,
the simpletons who genuflect,
lift voice in praise to gods inane.
Devoid of purpose, meaningless,
inflicting pain, I caused distress.
Ensconced in fog, truth thus eludes,
for nothing blinds like one’s own will,
prolongs the moral turpitude,
bolstering self yet further still.
The darkness bears an evil grin,
a putrid corpse, lest dawn breaks in.
But worlds come crashing down, of course.
A penetrating shaft of light
that sears at first, causes remorse,
illumines one’s desperate plight.
A warmth then flushes on the face
by blood reborn, restored by grace.
----------
for the I Wandered Lonely as --- Challenge Poetry Contest
sponsored by Natasha L Scragg
written on 09/18/2022
Platitudes of gratitude
reveal a shallow attitude
A plentitude of finger food
does not result in pulchritude
Multitudes of semi-nudes
enhance a life of turpitude
Inaptitude and incertitude
pave the path of ineptitude
I fly out of my lair
to land in your hair
You brush me off
as if I weren't there
Yet now you're infected
though you've not suspected
corona flu injected
no symptoms detected
You've invaded my home
stripped the land of my food
I'd have left you alone
'cept for your turpitude
Of rural China we speak
and the West, it does shriek
regarding sinister plots
but that's all for naught
For as you too encroach
on habitats you poach
from skunks, 'coons, and mice
Please know that head lice --
will seem mighty nice
compared to the plagues
that are heading your way
in a trice
In the year fourteen-hundred ninety-two
Indigenous Peoples, Columbus screwed --
He gave them worthless trinkets
So now they've 'rethinked' it --
Virtue-signaled Chris' moral turpitude
Oh! ye noble men of courage, another Hero is born.
Meet the man who demystify the terrors of our oppressors,
Out on thee oh cowards, Up and braze up for the the imminent freedom.
Your Fears are foolish, let them dazzle a thousand guns, they are mortals and
they fear our rage.
Enlist in the voyage for liberation, we cannot all be cowered.
Liberty is the cry of the oppressed, and Freedom is never given, it is taken
Emancipate yourself from the claws of these terrible corrupt impostors,
See the light of development sweeping the continents, advancement and
technological leap everywhere
Our lots has been a cynosure of bandits, overtaken by fraud and moral turpitude
Who will lead this banner to rescue us from the nebulous shame?
Over us they bellow, Lording it, they Rule.
Revolution is the Fear of the Oppressor, until the masses wake up from their
slumber.
End the reign of the bandits, masquerading as Leaders
Permanence becomes a trial
stacked with a jury same as the judge
both demanding a punishment
damning grounds of steadiness
the courtroom has one crowd
wearing masks that look alike
while spectators are kept outside
until the verdict is handed down
two alternatives by the law
stated from the Devil’s script
either life in solitude
or a quick end by turpitude
with no defense in this courtroom
the decree will be applied
adjudication found at last
by the accused upon themselves.
You walked addicted on the sordid quicksand
as gripping as the demons of sin could ever be,
sink in the destined depth of abhorrent abyss,
wrapped in the despicable layers of disdain.
The wounds of evil slashed the moral essence
where you had tried long in vain to never dig
the grave for the soul slain by the stab of sin,
for you drowned contrite in the sea of woes.
Purity of sunrise ignited candle of hope in you,
couldn’t abstain from facing kindled conscience
that lighted up the dark alley of introspection,
you reached self-illumed horizon of discernment.
Your identity drained of the vile slime of turpitude
by innuendo of self-proclaimed sense of sagacity,
reaching the lit fringe of life you didn’t remember,
you’d ever walked on the ground of sinned sands.
August : 20, 2019
Contest : Eight Word Challenge
Sponsor : Emile Pinet
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