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An Ugly Duckling
Satan you think
that you are
positively
oh so lovely,
but your insidious
insincere soul,
is really really
disgustingly ugly.
Your face
is mirrored sadly
not so clean
it shows
evil lean mean
the enormity
amassed of all
your vile sin.
You have deliberately
purposefully
put humanity tormented
through or in.
It shows
clearly
hideously
the enormity
of all the lying
heinous vile sin.
You have
cravenly
gleefully
indulged in.
Your vile corrupted face
your whole vile body,
vibrates revoltingly
sickeningly,
intensified mirrored evil
incarnate,
festering within depths
rotting your insipid soul,
poem by Terence George Craddock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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God As A Super Computer
God is a super computer in which there are two folders,
Vile and humane,
.……………………. Vile ………………….
All the unfair work you do,
All the crimes you do,
All the injustice work you do,
…………………….. Humane ………………...
All the fair work you do,
All the social services you do,
All the justifiable work you do.
All the files of vile are converted to a new file called hard, sorrow and obstacles.
All the files of humane are
Converted to a new file called
Smooth, happiness and
Good living.
poem by Ram Kausik
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Afraid of the Best
I am afraid of this, though be my best
A cause of great concern
Will I see you soon or ever again?
I fear my best shall fade one day
And watch my ways descend
To an unfavorable end
I know my dreams were not always golden
But still they were of my chosen
This vile world has a say
In what you want to do today
I only hope my best will come again
To keep me in life‘s lost lane
And shield me from this vile I now fear
Copyright © 2012
poem by Godfrey Morris
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Ch 08 On Rules For Conduct In Life - Maxim 72
Gold is obtained from a mine by digging it, but from a miser by digging the soul.
Vile men spend not, but preserve.
They say hope of spending is better than spending.
One day thou seest the wish of the foe fulfilled
The gold remaining and the vile man dead.
Sonnet 121:Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed
'Tis better to be vile than vile esteemed,
When not to be receives reproach of being;
And the just pleasure lost, which is so deemed
Not by our feeling, but by others' seeing:
For why should others' false adulterate eyes
Give salutation to my sportive blood?
Or on my frailties why are frailer spies,
Which in their wills count bad what I think good?
No, I am that I am, and they that level
At my abuses reckon up their own:
I may be straight though they themselves be bevel;
By their rank thoughts, my deeds must not be shown;
Unless this general evil they maintain,
All men are bad and in their badness reign.
poem by William Shakespeare
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Vile And Inappropriate
Vile and inappropriate?
Of course it is.
But not too many will agree,
Since they feel entitled...
To say and do what they please.
And excuse their actions,
As a marketing done to defend...
Their right to decrease a valued way of life,
They have deliberately have ignited...
With a setting of their own standards.
To place the attraction of their sleaze...
And their lowlife mentalities on others,
Who are far less self righteous...
In the expression of their pretentiousness.
But...
Are their actions vile and inappropriate?
Of course.
Who has not been aware of that?
Only those who follow and are loyal,
Seem not to be aware there is a difference.
poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar
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Venomous Words
If evil could speak,
You'd be its words,
Vile creature you are,
you bend unbendable wills,
You've snapped my thoughts,
with your words of evil.
Your evil speaks,
and cuts me deep,
your words so vile,
you lie a gentle kiss upon my flesh,
then bite my unpenetrable skin,
Your poisons, penetrate,
filling my veins.
like the evil that surges, this venom does to,
finally it reaches my heart,
killing me instantly,
your words like venom,
Spread so violently.
poem by Crimson Love
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Tortued by bastards
Tortured in childhood
And early teens.
Torture more day by day.
By some evil scum
That wanted his twisted pleasure.
He thought it was right to do it.
Right to rape and abuse a child.
Peice of fucking shit.
Tortued by more than 1.
Still stuck there
As it were only a day ago.
Tortured from a youn age.
All I can hear in my head
is its only a game.
Still stuck and tortured
By your vile face.
Some day
Youll get
What you desereve.
Then maybe you wont
Most bastards like you
are untouchable.
But you all tortued me
For your own
Vile reasons.
You piece of shit
Amy Kerswell
poem by Amy Louise Kerswell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side
Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
poem by John Donne
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Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jews, And Pierce My Side
Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Holy Sonnet 11
Spit in my face, you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinn'd, and sinne', and only He,
Who could do no iniquity, hath died.
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews' impiety.
They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
O let me then His strange love still admire;
Kings pardon, but He bore our punishment;
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire,
But to supplant, and with gainful intent;
God clothed Himself in vile man's flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
poem by John Donne from Holy Sonnets
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Holy Sonnet XI: Spit In My Face You Jewes
Spit in my face you Jewes, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoffe, scourge, and crucifie mee,
For I have sinn'd, and sinn'd, and onely hee,
Who could do no iniquitie, hath dyed:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sinnes, which passe the Jewes impiety:
They kill'd once an inglorious man, but I
Crucifie him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let mee then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came cloth'd in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainfull intent:
God cloth'd himselfe in vile mans flesh, that so
Hee might be weake enough to suffer woe.
poem by John Donne
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Its Only Me
I am the blood
I am the heartbeat
I am the needle drawing me from me
Separate vials for the vile I see
I am the mind
And I know what I know
Fragments of pictures form my core
All strewn about on this prison floor
Chorus:
Watched on by secret eyes
Hidden internal lies
Its only me
I get afraid of the dark sometimes
I cant see
When the light shines I find its only me
I am the flood
And I am the cleansing
Reckless and pure still unsure
I got aimless precision
I am the savior
And I am my brother
Holding me in locking me out
Different room for a different doubt
Chorus
I am the blood
And I am the heartbeat
I am the needle drawing me from me
Seperate vials for the vile I see
Chorus
song performed by by Vertical Horizon
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Analogy
(To ——)
HAD you lived when a tyrant King
Strove to make all the slaves of one,
With Nobles and with Churchmen you
Had stood unflinching, pure and true,
To annihilate that hateful thing
Green Runnymede beat out of John?
Had you lived when a wanton crew,
Flash scoundrels of a day outdone,
Trod down the toilers birth derides,
With Cromwell and his Ironsides
The brave days had discovered you,
Where Naseby saw the Gallants run?
And yet you, — this same knight in list
For Freedom in her narrow dawn
Against that One, against those Few,
Vile King, vile Nobles — you, yet you
Stand by the bloody Capitalist,
Fight with the pander Gentleman!
poem by Francis William Lauderdale Adams
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Sweet memory
My sweet little memory, you taste like red wine,
I am oh so pleased you have come to visit me,
You bring warmth and comfort in a worrisome life,
I wish I could be with you for eternity,
As I think back to the time I first smelt that scent,
Picture it as though it's happening this second,
Dance with my child self and mourn my innocence lost,
The feelings seem like they are more than just pretend,
My vile dirty memory, you taste like bitter foul meat,
Why must you trouble me quite so relentlessly?
You add to what's already a sea of torment,
I crave to escape your insensitivity,
So I look back to what caused the scar I abhor,
Imagine that it is happening this second,
Change the vile daemon into a liveable form,
Then reform and write all my flawed conclusions.
poem by Christian Lacdael
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Charming Introduction
This was talking of a charming introduction to a vile life,
Impassable roads honoured this vile life of a hermit.
A scoundrel betraying his friends, he fetched the medicine,
Happy medicine was never happening to anybody.
The doctor collapsed forcefully by the drugs he ingested,
This drug poisoned the hermit as well, a wellness seemed able.
The marriage of these two inspired both leaders and citizens
As the hermit and doctor were at fierce odds with each other.
To make a fortune was significant to the brain and mind,
The mind contained light, and the brain consisted of darkness;
Cheerfully, the misery lasted, for the desires and lusts concentrated,
Later this meant misery was at an end, absent in the extreme.
poem by Naveed Akram
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The Fear Sanction
If you don’t get saved and become a slave
You’ll burn in hell the preacher did tell
You’re rotten, unrighteous and born vile
You belong to the devil, deceived by his vile
Your fate has been decided, no denial
Tried and convicted without a trial
Go to school but don’t make the grade
Can’t get in college, no financial aid
Can’t get the skills and have no trade
Future looks bleak even fear is afraid
Society doesn’t want you
You don’t have the money they are due
You don’t possess what they require
You’re a mistake and object of friendly fire
Ya spend yo whole life living in dread and fear
Controlled and manipulated by the austere
Help is not allowed to interfere
Life and living is no hope, death won’t appear
Living up to your mentor’s measure
Don’t enjoy yourself and receive pleasure
Be a carbon copy, shallow imitation
Spend yourself as just a fountain of information
poem by Josephine DixonBanks
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When you're in that scene, you really wonder if this is all you're ever going to be. You know how vile and filthy you are inside.
quote by Willie Aames
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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