#pound
I offer up something, but you don't care.
You point out that I'm unhappy, like it's a sin.
Why would I stay on a path that would let you in?
You're better off calling your "Same old used to be".
It's more likely he'll have more to do with you than me.
Because I won't, it's been a slice, enough is enough,
it hasn't been nice. As for your friends, you can have them too.
Everybody gets lonely sometimes, when I do,
I won't be thinking of you. I know you know
That I wanted to play. I know you know
just how to ***** me. If you could **** my brains out
I'd have second thoughts; I might have stuck around.
But all your ******* games just brought me down.
So what's the fare, would you want to stay?
That's why I did what I did, but let's face it,
You can't stand me when I am drunk, and
I can't stand you when I'm sober.
No matter how you put it, it's just another way to say it's over.
Apr 30
Apr 30, 2026 at 8:12 AM UTC
Let us deride the smugness of “The Times”:
GUFFAW !
So much the gagged reviewers,
It will pay them when the worms are wriggling in their vitals ;
These were they who objected to newness,
HERE are their TOMB STONES.
They supported the gag and the ring :
A little black BOX contains them.
SO shall you be also,
You slut-bellied obstructionist,
You sworn foe to free speech and good letters,
You fungus, you continuous gangrene.
Come, let us on with the new deal,
Let us be done with Jews and Jobbery,
Let us SPIT upon those who fawn on the JEWS for their money,
Let us out to the pastures.
PERHAPS I will die at thirty,
Perhaps you will have the pleasure of defiling my pauper’s grave,
I wish you JOY, I proffer you ALL my assistance.
It has been your HABIT for long to do away with true poets,
You either drive them mad, or else you blink at their suicides,
Or else you condone their drugs, and talk of insanity and genius,
BUT I will not go mad to please you.
I will not FLATTER you with an early death.
OH, NO ! I will stick it out,
I will feel your hates wriggling about my feet,
And I will laugh at you and mock you,
And I will offer you consolations in irony,
O fools, detesters of Beauty.
I have seen many who go about with supplications,
Afraid to say how they hate you.
HERE is the taste of my BOOT,
CARESS it, lick off the BLACKING.
Nov 15, 2025
Nov 15, 2025 at 7:46 PM UTC
Crows caw
And the women chatter
While trees saw
A thousand matters
And a cats claw
And the wind carries
Whispers old and new
While, there, married
The fools who haven’t a clue
The voices within
Die in ignorance
Surface sighted men
Are idiots to patience
A thousand voices quieted
To the world rested in palms
As no appetites are wetted
We’ve forgotten old psalms
Gone is what matters
Supple sustenance for soul
Replaced by glass shattered
Yet the heart still grows
Nay it starves
For sustenance denied
Chosen laws’ Harvard
And empty A.I.
A thousand voices quieted
Craving cars within
Superficially saturated
Inside your Gods’ light dims
And restless is Morpheus
Emptied is Khemenu’s basin
Writing to your inner Boethius
And the day is out
I’ve been here since night
Watching the thoughtless come about
Enter prison, now returned in sight
Back are the chattering women
Gone is the silent respite
Abandoned is Gods Heaven
Be it not for the last flicker of light
But the Old Ones have spoken
Hymns of liberation
Visions be woven
Songs of man’s abomination
Dance and joy
Lust and pride
Forget the inner boy
Behind left a sight wide
Traded for shallow waters
Cyclopean cities of nigh
Tapped by the unbothered
Phantom of the dead city R’lyeh
Your newfound liberation is devolution
Freedom is your cage
For thoughts ceased their convolution
Once again bound by animal rage
Inward no
Outward tempts
Surface grows
Depth nonexistent
Pretentious know it alls
Who know nothing
In their selfish muse they fall
Without an original thought of something
And the wild kingdom
Expands its reign
Filled by blind fandom
And Zealous feign
The Old One herds it’s sheep
Eyes turned off
Their minds gone to sleep
While the unwilling scoff
They count their days
But the unicorn finds arrogance
For to the cattle they’ll fall prey
For they’ve abandoned their righteous penance
Forget the last as you commit the next
Crime, how soon until the ultimate crime
Hope not for the fallen, for let’s
Wash clean our soul in brine
But prey not fall to the Beast
Of the sea
Ready for your soul feast
To devour your faith and dreams
But still His word you pervert
And winged demon still steals
As His will you subvert
Your life turned into its meal
For they’ve abandoned their gift
Of independence
The point has been missed
And we are all so dependent
God is in the TV
Question and answers that are hard to solve
Oh Darling, please believe me
The darkest hour is right before the dawn
Yourself forgotten
A thousand faces in your mirror
Each day a new allotment
Not your voice, but theirs you hear
Valorless galore
Against the Krakens tide
Because their thoughts matter more
Your true self hides
The bird has rid its wings
A bird it is no more
And forgotten how to sing
A bird it is no more
Lions Pride becomes Hordes Chant
They’ve died and returned a Lich
Not a King, just a scamp
Just another stitch
There, there lies bones apart
Empty within
How can your revolution start
When with yourself you can’t begin
Turn back time
Reach into before
Bathe with the swine
Across a barren shore
Take your hatred out of me
I don’t have to listen
Campaign speech of liberty
Theatre masks gone missing
Love and joy
War and peace
Meat and soy
Sinner and the priest
You are everything
And I am one
Your hate deliberating
Murdered is the one
I am the animal
Who will not be himself
Thought unfathomable
Unrealized hell
Demons whisper in your ear
And I start to hear them
Your will a fulfilled fear
From you, Baal stems
Pride and humility
A spectrums range
Greed and charity
Perspectives change
Across the water
Unfairness praised
Unjust no bother
Open eyes hazed
What’s it then if I find my demise
A number for their ends
Begone to those who dare question
Just a means to their end
Nov 22, 2021
Nov 22, 2021 at 9:17 AM UTC
Blue, blue is the grass about the river
And the willows have overfilled the close garden.
And within, the mistress, in the midmost of her youth,
White, white of face, hesitates, passing the door.
Slender, she puts forth a slender hand;
And she was a courtezan in the old days,
And she has married a sot,
Who now goes drunkenly out
And leaves her too much alone.
Oct 23, 2021
Oct 23, 2021 at 10:51 AM UTC
My head
Is pounding
It hurts
Perhaps
I shouldn't have
Hit it
Over
Ove r
O v E r
O V E r
O V e R
Again
Against a concrete wall
Aug 9, 2019
Aug 9, 2019 at 3:42 PM UTC
On this day, which seems a portal to the rest of life,
A pair of Rose breasted Grosbeaks come to the feeder
Under powerful white beaks, their throats are brilliant red.
And Pound’s words: “What thou lov’st well” come to mind.
“What thou lov’st well”
Words I recited to Janey when her husband died.
To myself when I lost my house,
And that job, thirty years ago.
When mother’s white hair signaled her mortality
Now, this beautiful bird
And coffee
And taking breaths
An oriole in the apple tree
Picking nectar out of May blossoms...
“What thou lovest well remains,
the rest is dross
What thou lov’st well shall not be reft from thee
What thou lov’st well is thy true heritage”
May 25, 2019
May 25, 2019 at 1:28 PM UTC
Your name became my favorite sound.
It would always make my heart pound,
and even make my head spin around.
You’re different from the rest I’ve found.
May 2, 2019
May 2, 2019 at 1:13 PM UTC
If I could tell you how much
You make my heart pound each day
I would lose sight of the Earth
You blinded me
From who I could be
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 11:36 PM UTC
One brain, one mouth, one being - nothing more!
I’ve killed my selves so many times
My own womb has suffered crimes,
To be a poet have I tried
But my ink has gotten dry.
Rebirthed myself as man - for the poems, for the words, nothing more
Everything missed Dionysus like never before!
A different life among you have I led!
Deprived myself of all life gives
In dark, alone and cold I wept.
Destitute and desperate now,
My heart freezing on a lonely bough.
The bulb above my brow is hanging by a single thread and when
It falls and breaks to pieces they will know that I am dead.
Come sleep - or come death,
I can see no difference.
Blind me at least so I can mock the Sun!
With shut eyes they think I am illiterate,
Primordial is the essence and I am her son.
They want me to dance at the feet of chance!
Embrace chaos in my attic,
Die a young and worthy addict.
Forced to live in Hölderlin’s tower
As nothing more than a wilting flower.
My words trembled but were barren, devoid of romance,
So my poetry never made anyone dance.
I clipped my wings so I can drink with sailors,
Walk amongst them on my frail feet,
To be man is all I ever wanted,
Chugged the nectar of life which made me sick.
Oh, men! How fragile you are!
Slowly poisoned by the time you try to escape
‘Meaningless is existence’ you say as you create!
Come sleep - or come death,
I can see no difference.
Poverty through poetry, the most human way to go,
Come sleep - or come death,
Let me go.
He wanted to be human - the humanest of them all - a poet!
He wanted to put pain on paper - even make it rhyme
He wanted to be the one to hear the screams of time.
And as the light faded and the bulb broke,
Darkness came wearing mistress clothes.
‘Oh, men! How strange you really are!’ - he yelled.
‘Dionysus! What a man you have become!’ - she said.
Then he disappeared swearing to never return,
Thinking that poetry is for those who like to burn.
Apr 5, 2019
Apr 5, 2019 at 11:13 AM UTC
ooh they said at match
as it is finished good for them
ooh! they said to compete
when their team got first
ooh!they shouted at celebrate
when engage or wedding occurred
ooh! they said and escaped
when they stole some pounds
ooh! they called at one
who failed for his leg in love
they may laugh at
or they may wish to be at
Nov 30, 2018
Nov 30, 2018 at 5:12 PM UTC
I couldn't realize my greatness
much less your fascination in me depicted in your own eyes
and much less see yours
and a lot less understand then that I could have helped change earth.
I had no idea I could change my life debating if changing it between my real identity and the one the world gave me would even be a wise thing to do
naturally I was a small enchanted frog with a Queen of the forest stolen crown left in some small macabre pound
Impossible to hap across your huge ocean to be kissed and reign as a new Queen of Kemah
much less know
I had the power of love to help me govern your heart your spirit soul but I knew I was your
twin flame and I loved you at first sight.
Until I believed in myself I realized my greatness and yours plus the dreams you described
while alls gone to worp speeds
and black hole law witches
all beauty remained vissible
tangible neverending!
thats the magic of knowing
true love. It never dies.
I just never found anyone able to love me with the same passion ever again.
The many times I tried to move on even you and women you trusted played the authors of malice and treachery setting me up with your contacts to be used betrayed deceived and trashed,
so I live unmarried and free
knowing good and evil
deep in my core intuitive.
I am just a woman of substance,
AWAKENED! Aware!
to my here and now, that's me
and dear it hurt long and bad at times wishing I was never born but I preffer solitude from humans!
I still wish to thank you my precious true love,
you too universe for the rides!
the good and the bad
I am so eternaly grateful
just a woman of substance.
Oct 25, 2018
Oct 25, 2018 at 5:37 PM UTC
...And kirchéglise(Notre) dame
o u r l a d y m y l a d y
encyl-able, Pope or Pope or popedeux
and vindicate the waysteland
My caska is openclosed!
(pews is pause is putride and prodigious)
Et tout-en commun?Gizerly pharaoh HA
lf gone.
Source-error of Oz
Ymandias
and dust, and dustinction
god pull downwhich?
or fleurs-de-litigation.
Vini, vu/gesehen, conquered/konkeri?
And tot
And mort
and trunks gefallen.
Fantast-asy—I flail.
pause
S e m p i ternam.
Sep 7, 2018
Sep 7, 2018 at 10:21 PM UTC
Thinking about a man,
that chases God,
makes my heart pound.
Apr 18, 2018
Apr 18, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC
It is a heartthrob’s way
To say
“I’d rather have noone than to not have you”
When really
The truth is
That unless the other person
Wants you too
Then you're just spending time
On a beach by yourself
Watching the waves crash on by
Never surfing yourself
What is life?
If not lived
While you still have your health?
It is a heartthrob’s way
So I say
Nothing else
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 2:13 PM UTC
Rain…
Down…
Hear the sound of my voice as it
Pounds…
Out…
In the rain hear the words as they
Are…
Now…
Mere reminders of who we once
Were...
And how…
There is no time left waiting for
Us…
Now…
So as the voices of rain ever fall
Down…
Would you honor me with your
Reply?
Now?
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 5:00 PM UTC
Hear my heartbeat now
With ears pressed to humble chest
Ever calling out
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 1:53 AM UTC
The apparition of these faces in the crowd;
Petals on a wet, black bough.
Jul 22, 2016
Jul 22, 2016 at 2:52 PM UTC
Some people write, but rarely read,
That seems to me most strange indeed,
They've read less than a hundred books,
Yet think they imitate the looks,
Of Sassoon, Cummings, Keats and Pound,
Or think they imitate the sound,
Of Lennon, Dylan, or Shakur,
And sometimes think they've offered more,
Than Chaucer, Wilde or Shakespeare could,
And claim they're more misunderstood,
Than even Salman Rushdie was,
Which really ticks me off because,
After having read such wondrous works,
A sense of failure always lurks,
Inside me whenever I write,
Yet they think they've done well tonight!
I hate them all! That's it - I've said it!
But they won't know until they've read it,
Which is quite doubtful, I'd attest,
Who'd read my work and skip the best?
Dec 29, 2015
Dec 29, 2015 at 1:55 AM UTC
the soldier in charge with raising the flag
felt ashamed because he couldn’t get it up.
he stayed up the whole night crying,
packing all his Ezras and his Allens,
ironing his shirts and
wrapping in old newspapers the photos
of him and his grandfather.
the stench of fire crackers and
hot dogs was still strong on his clothes
and he couldn’t touch the top of his mouth
with his tongue.
the pain was edgy and the
bull’s eye couldn’t take it anymore;
he knew he flagged life once again.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 4:37 AM UTC
Portrait d'une Femme
Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea,
London has swept about you this score years
And bright ships left you this or that in fee:
Ideas, old gossip, oddments of all things,
Strange spars of knowledge and dimmed wares of price.
Great minds have sought you — lacking someone else.
You have been second always. Tragical?
No. You preferred it to the usual thing:
One dull man, dulling and uxorious,
One average mind — with one thought less, each year.
Oh, you are patient, I have seen you sit
Hours, where something might have floated up.
And now you pay one. Yes, you richly pay.
You are a person of some interest, one comes to you
And takes strange gain away:
Trophies fished up; some curious suggestion;
Fact that leads nowhere; and a tale for two,
Pregnant with mandrakes, or with something else
That might prove useful and yet never proves,
That never fits a corner or shows use,
Or finds its hour upon the loom of days:
The tarnished, gaudy, wonderful old work;
Idols and ambergris and rare inlays,
These are your riches, your great store; and yet
For all this sea-hoard of deciduous things,
Strange woods half sodden, and new brighter stuff:
In the slow float of differing light and deep,
No! there is nothing! In the whole and all,
Nothing that's quite your own.
Yet this is you.
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 1:07 PM UTC