Vilified Poems | Examples

Lady

Once adored by beholder,
   Soiled doves, fall in no longer.

From garden to minefield,
   Avoidance is justified;
Inamoured, favourably yield,
   Innocence gone vilified.

Once lured by sweetness,
   Penetrated, unable to flee;
Trapped inside glowness,
   Choked, unable to glee.

Memories gone masterless,
   History, halted unspree;
Living dead and throneless,
   To be, or not to be.

Soundbites: 6-1-2025

Dreams Of ‘Papa’

Burning fat
off your soul
with each word
that he wrote

Every vision
a banquet
to swallow
or choke

In the ring
or arena
with blood
boiling high

A man greets
the dragon
with hello
— or goodbye

(Dreams Of Papa: May, 2025)


Sins Of Omission

Intending
to deceive
with words
unsaid
In your
silence
truth denied

What’s stays
on mute
voiced in
your head
Its  
intention
— vilified    

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)


Smyllum Park

The great
deceivers
hope and affection
Leave you
a foundling
an orphan of joy
As twins
they’re conscripted
in fields of abandon
Where life takes
no solace
and heartache
— deploys

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)


Into The Breach

Every war
is different
Every war’s
the same
Bullets fly
and soldiers die
With valor
— to rename

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)



Crossing Over

A whispered dare
a final vow
the Rubicon behind

New Light ahead
through smoke and blood
the final victim — time

(Dreamsleep: May, 2025)

The Trumpet of Parrots

If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor – Desmond Tutu

The Trumpet of Parrots

Patriots rally to the trumpet sound,
its blare echoes the lies that bigots breed.
Perched in power, pipers, in pretence gowned,
their hatred spreads, disguised as noble creed.

They stoke the tribal fire in ancient scars,
while hissing hypes to mask the stench of greed.
Their chorus of lies taints Venus and Mars,
who like pawns follow blindly the king’s lead.

Their victims vilified and ridiculed.
Protesters branded as dregs of the state,
by troops of diehards loathsome and unschooled,
As crony capitalists preach their hate.

So, mark the flock that flaps where conscience sleeps:
A nation full of parrots gently weeps.

Poetry II

If poetry channels our anger and sorrow
Who then will want to write it tomorrow
And will joy and contentment stifle its future?
And what will become of our stays and culture?

I say poetry has been victimized 
Vilified, chastised, castigated and ostracized 
Only perceived as a tool for struggle 
Truths coded for smuggle

Yet poetry is just song void of tune
From the same rock hewn
For the lyrics that ride on the harmonies 
Are sponsored by poetic abilities 

Only poetry captures life’s odysseys
In whose form is crafted psalms and prophecies 
If you want to know an expanse exceeding now
Poetry is the where and the how

Poetry in its recitation 
May not cause rhythm and gyration 
Care free melodies and chimes
That people seek in easy times

Until hard times force the weaning 
Where people gain taste for meaning 
A complementary aid for soul searching 
To set the conscience forwardly marching 

If poetry must fail in the market 
Then it proves not to aim for your pocket 
But a stinging dart to awaken your souls 
When woes and lows purge all else from their roles

K. Muitherero

I Wonder

I wonder.

I wonder what will happen when 
all the English dictionaries are burnt 
and Shakespeare is abolished 
as FAR RIGHT and Racist, 
and when the Beatles are 
vilified for 'She Loves You' 
when it should have
been 'they them love you'. 
When the battle of Britain 
Begs an unreserved apology.
When the British inventions 
Are cast aside as imperial luck
When Europe forgets as the Russians
Have, who saved them in WW2
When people are imprisoned for
Love of these islands and free
Speech is abolished and punished
But this horror won’t happen tomorrow
No, not tomorrow, or the day after
But don’t feel reassured or complacent
Because they arrived months ago
And we all must be ready to pay.

David Cox 02/02/25

the tarrifs

The Tariffs
here we go again, in a strong country where most workers are not unionized, but the rich are and the working class has to pay for the wealthy’s expenses, this time in the form of tariffs those who have the business of production can reduce the local market’s cost, but they will not instead, they will jack up their prices because we live in a free society where the lower order has little influence to demand better pay
There will be demonstrations against hard times, the strikers will be vilified as enemies of freedom, thrown into jail on fake charges, and called renegades, and the press will tell us they  are betrayers of the American way  
Yes, we have seen this before in other countries in another time, but the outcome is always more poverty, when the people are subdued and real freedom fighters are shot on the streets or, on the tabernacle of progress, peace bitter peace will ensue until the state collapses into a civil war

this Sunday reading

This weekend's  reading

It appears a rare type of moss thrives on
Mars climate, soon we will see a green planet
and since one thing leads to another there
will be rabbits and foxes and perhaps sheep
We are delighted to see Maron lost his gamble
and we can look forward to sane policy 
that can help end the Ukraine war by using 
the trusted negotiation?  Probably not 
Hungary is in charge of the EU for six months
Orban, the man, is getting busy fighting 
EU, democracy and hopefully  win on point 
but von der Leyen, the president of moss
grown countries will still be there.
a leading newspaper is glad Assange has 
are free, we wilt long memories remember
when it vilified our Julian, but we will be
magnanimous and forgive the written 
sometimes an editor has to bend to the will
of shareholders

In standing

Stand up for humanity..Reject gross insanity.!
Lionize real freedom, converse with tact and reason'
If your hearts been broken, its a sign your loves not token
Cultivate a will; and mind like steel.'
Share with those you find are real
If you give? And seldom take, you'll confuse the slithering
Snake' If you rob no other man' or woman' in all the lands
You will still be vilified..' Yet the Lord will take your side.!
He who fired up 'our sun' counts you valid only.' through His
True and worthy one.!

Rasta Chant

How dare you spit upon his garb! 
This peaceful bredda who by nature only loves, 
When you should have been his Rasta queen 
Your ghastly behaviour drew a scene 
And I- woman just like you 
Hang my head in shame 
As you defile our name. 

Selassie-I know seh di Rasta man took a deep breath
To honour his philosophy, 
But like a lamb to the slaughter, 
he was reduced 
In front of the whole community. 

He sought calm in his Rasta chant 
Swallowed his pride, 
Turned the next cheek, and with human dignity. 
Yet that pouncing Jezebel 
Delilah, 
Demon picknie, 
Shameless femininity 
Minimized her king, 
Cared nothing that he is masculine. 
  
She is no empress  
and certainly not a Ital-dawtah! 
She mocked and cursed him 
Bullied him and sullied his character. 
Vilified him as the on-lookers magnified 
Scorned, mistreated and humiliated.

But when upon each other their backs were turned 
The fury in the lion roared 
And in that moment, he went against his Rasta chant 
And knocked her out flat on her face. 

I won’t apologize for feeling appeased 
For you are a disgrace to the female race!

how i hate that cooing pigeon

My vices and my faults are legion
how I hate that cooing pigeon
pooping right outside my door

i cannot sleep for death entices
promises to end my vices
silencing my painful snore

and yet in vain I blindly struggle
beneath black blankets darkly snuggle
deny my essence to the core

within life's book the battle rages
against the truth of yellowed pages
scattered on the bedroom floor

she isn't here and never was
her memory a flaming buzz
is it the flame that I adore

scorched within and vilified
by endless nights wherein I've died
as pigeons cooed outside my door

the shadow of the swinging loop
the smell of two day old bird poop
it thus will end I'll bear no more

and yet I hesitate in fear
that she may somehow draw me near
engulf me in her flaming core

erase the pain of passion's past
share with me one last repast
a love, both lovers, so abhor

am I but fodder for her soul
consumed somehow yet still left whole
by a love we both deplore

John G. Lawless
©11/27/2023

No Claim To Fame

They manage to keep a fanned flame
These ones with no claim to fame
They don’t trade, build or make
Yet heralds ogle for their sake
And I to myself only wonder
That I find no rhyme or reason in my ponder
But I keep my opinion conservative
For my appetite craves no weird narrative
That one can be famed for nothing
It just doesn’t fit my hearing

Once there was respect for the audience
Until stardom clouded many a conscience
With sound worth one had to be endowed
Before presenting oneself before a crowd
And a few had glimpses of glories
With quotes and works transcending histories
Others galant warriors and wise chieftains
Glorified outlaws and vilified villains
Men had their names on their rights and wrongs
As preserved in folklore, poetry and songs

And until ideology once more underpins
Character, manners and disciplines
Ethics, decency and social order
Evil will have many for fodder
To be grazed on and trampled underfoot
Thinning fortune that another may have loot
And if you cringe at this possible end
Then with every fibre of you strive and fend
For the return of righteousness in our midst
As the bare and common at the very least

K. Muitherero.

She's So Powerful -

She's so powerful –
She moves the air;
It doesn't move her. 
Matter obeys her will. 

She's so powerful:
In Grace and Artistry – 
In lines of Symmetry –
Her eyes sparkle. 

She is a real hero –
Perfection personified.
Physics is vilified
By her – small in stature.

Vilified Vanilla Suffices

Despite vanilla's subtle sweet and unique exquisiteness
it's encumbered by being considered plain basic and unexciting.
It's seen as being neutral, insipid in need of embellishment
It's a blank soft white canvas needing to be added to.
But in essence, the vanilla bean seed
has a sweet, creamy, sweet and slightly floral taste.
It has a gentle lovely and subtle aroma.
Vanilla is the muse for every dessert makers dream,
In custard, ice-cream, cookies and cakes you adore,
Vanilla infuses its magic in every bite we explore,
Imparting a fragrance that lingers long on the tongue.
Vanilla much belied, maligned, vilified, mocked and ostracized,
Deserves another go, all on its own, plain and simple!

It's Okay

It's okay to say out loud that you are God,
for there is no we.
You may however be vilified or stoned to death!

Now that you have realized this truth
it's okay to fall back into the illusion;
that thought matrix of our collective agreements.

However you are not more holy or more enlightened
than any higher ape or dog.
You just know that there is only you,
only One Consciousness.

Then you can rejoin the illusion of 'we'
make it your playground,
get happy or sad about all the stuff
everyone else gets happy or sad about.

When you are truly alone
you will know you are not alone
for you do not exist
in any ultimate sense.

So it’s okay to know that you are God,
God experiencing you
and that is quite a cool thing to know
isn't it?

Vilified

Viable vexing vixens
value volume valuables 
voluptuary vineyard visitations

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