"abatement" poems
Personality problem monumental
Attempts to change inconsequential
Learning to care
A constant struggle
Desperation to scream
Producing nothing but mumbles
A freshly broken heart
Can make one so humble
Mind pollution
No abatement
Dissolving solution
Emotional Contagion
Recycled love
Halfhearted statements
Am I enough?
Romantic damnation
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 9:53 PM UTC
I was seventy-seven, come August,
I shall shortly be losing my bloom;
I've experienced zephyr and raw gust
And (symbolical) flood and simoom.
When you come to this time of abatement,
To this passing from Summer to Fall,
It is manners to issue a statement
As to what you got out of it all.
So I'll say, though reflection unnerves me
And pronouncements I dodge as I can,
That I think (if my memory serves me)
There was nothing more fun than a man!
In my youth, when the crescent was too wan
To embarrass with beams from above,
By the aid of some local Don Juan
I fell into the habit of love.
And I learned how to kiss and be merry--an
Education left better unsung.
My neglect of the waters Pierian
Was a scandal, when Grandma was young.
Though the shabby unbalanced the splendid,
And the bitter outmeasured the sweet,
I should certainly do as I then did,
Were I given the chance to repeat.
For contrition is hollow and wraithful,
And regret is no part of my plan,
And I think (if my memory's faithful)
There was nothing more fun than a man!
2.4k
All our country's taxpayers are becoming enraged
Bailing out companies which have been mismanaged
Countless millions have been forked out
Dollar amounts which are exceptionally stout
Ever the taxpayer is called upon to cough up
Filling the always depleted company's cup
Giving generously has got to cease pretty soon
Helping them is a cost that's gone well beyond the moon
Injecting our hard earned is too much
Just let them stand on their own crutch
Kick those CEO's into a reality check fashion
Let them not receive anymore of our kind ration
Money has been misspent by our former government
Never ending the out flow it's time for some abatement
Offer not another cent to those ailing companies
Propping them stresses the taxpayer's arteries
Questions must be asked about those per unit costs
Regularly increasing and so high are their imposts
Shores abroad can produce goods for lesser amounts
They run a more efficient book of accounts
Under a burgeoning payout us taxpayers are gripped
Vast savings we'd make if they were nipped
We've been supporting the big end of town for years
X marks the spot where we've been left in arrears
Yonder the companies can take their travails
Zilch is what they'll be receiving from our taxpayer bails
Feb 2, 2014
Feb 2, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
In a shrill corner
with overcast clouds dully wasting the day
for contemplation washes in brackish waves
flood mouth and eyes
I tell you but
no better words hover lazily
like dust caught in light
In the shrill corner
held with fierce intensity,
the best way small palms can clench.
you were some treasure I'd finally found
which might slip
from my pockets, of threadbare fabric
burying between the thistle and trash
by the sidewalks' path
by my own oversight
you make a promise
I can’t swim to the bottom
for fear of what truth might look like.
Consumed without discretion.
without abatement.
smoke and ashes will settle
into bloodstream and bone
leaving fossil traces
If one day you want to slip between the fibers
to be among something new
I will understand
let you pass
with fists clenched.
around their flesh
I will make a promise.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 4:27 PM UTC
I looked upon the greats, and found nothing they didnt take from the pre-existing grates, that drained our goals into slates, degraded our souls into fakes, and mistook our traits as hate, before we faded into an abatement for safetly, safely enslaving our notions as nations, from the oceans, they saved me ... made me ... who I am.
But nothing is sacred anymore
Only deplorable horror
To numb the chores
Of that other lord
That the imaginitive ignore
Pretending to abhore
The things they cant feel anymore
But what for
There might be more to a coin flip than explored.
Intent and decent Vs stoical form
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
Such an abatement of voices creep sparingly, verily I tell you, they shall be accrue in the mornings dew!!
Acquaint me on mine wrongs, thank me for mine songs I subdue!!!
They are just registry's of what's real and what's not!!!!
Must you haveth natural air to breathe? Annotater of annunuity. Apprentice fakes overtake innocent babies where the unnatural scabies infest the freshest of human skins.
Carrouse all your symptoms away. You leader, you fearer, you murderer by day!!!
Your one charitable cent gives to noone, for someone in thy heavens watches your do's and donts!!!!
Sure you won't infest beyond breed. You striver to succeed, your alive today aren't thou?
Grant it, you don't look it....
May 12, 2015
May 12, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 10:57 AM UTC
to buy a book at half-ten with
no time wasting. go back, await
instructions ‘cause ****** will
have their trinkets, with novelty
of accented voice. and i once
would talk often of a love – let’s
separate that word from *****
often of a love, but am rare to
fall to elaboration. and through
contemplation the soul may
ascend to knowledge of the
Form of the Good, penultimate
object of Knowledge but not
Knowledge. and often writ of
this love, writ of what was to be
then and never now. never to find
affirmation in fleeting memory.
oxymoronic oblate of the mind
– this soul. attempting for attainment
of Kenosis. shambling i wandered,
rambling i wandered, and humbly
wandering on to pluck till times
and times are done. and
the dogs of this life have re-
moved dearest effects. in turn, sho-
wing the vanity in materialism.
end turn, showing futility in ret-
ention and the sun's continuous gro-
wth forcing abatement of winters’
vespers. cradling a gourd filled with
oil from the skin of ages, to reflect
micorocosms of preceived death.
those silver apples of the moon. and
when vespers return in color, when
the ground aches tensing muscles.
this love, if only the conjunctions
had been denied. perhaps by abor-
tion of if, then could have been a
block for now. these times found
oblate of memory by zealous self-
truth of the wronged past, and
humbled by skewed memory of
the hermit on unseen path for
Kenosis. unseen growth of
those golden apples of the sun.
May 15, 2013
May 15, 2013 at 10:05 PM UTC
It’s as if you love a stranger,
when unconditional love prevails;
It’s as if it doesn’t matter,
when effort goes to no avail.
The agony that lies within,
triggering the paroxysm that lies outside.
Lingering from the bones – and,
into the skin with total surface so wide.
Why do you hide away from me?
All that defence mechanism I practice that I see in front of me,
When all I wanted was to be your safe place -
No harm, no pain, no ****** and openness without disgrace.
I know, being alone provides solace.
But without one another, our love will go into such a waste.
I know, it hurts to open yourself up to another individual,
When everything you sacrifice can suddenly seem so fatal.
Let me plead, let me plight.
That I am imperfect, but I try to be right.
To be the harbinger of peace and abatement,
Even when the world fails and together we have to fight.
For once I am willing to let go, willing to prepare for war,
willing to stand on my feet with great reason and meaning.
And finally I found you – my love,
that will prevent my selfishness from leaving,
(even when colossal pain kills my being).
You are my reason for thanksgiving;
This unconditional love – revealing,
Finally after my tears are wiped away,
and my vision goes into a clearer perspective:
When unconditional love prevails,
(Now I know), nothing will go into no avail.
Mar 25, 2012
Mar 25, 2012 at 8:36 AM UTC
Between the pages are the lies that rise up when you least expect and change the plot,
just, when you think you've got the gist
you find there's something that you missed and the story's back to front.
There's a party going on next door,which started about five before the hour of four and I am really cheesed off and sore that the neighbour (the little **** didn't see fit to invite this boy so he could enjoy a jive or the twist or a tango,a slow dance,a chance for a whirl with a girl, so I shall complain,
if he doesn't invite me there'll be no parties again,he can do as I do and listen to BBC radio two.
Back to the book because that's all I've got and some cold beans with spinach which I left in the *** for my tea ,don't worry about me I'm on chapter three and there's eight more to go,
and what do you know,there's a knock on my door and my very nice neighbour says,
'there's a party going on, what are you waiting for?'
Now I feel dumb,the noise abatement society will come and it'll be all my fault,so I say thanks for the invite, decided to stay in for the night,close and bolt my door and with my head in my hands
progress to chapter four.
Sep 11, 2013
Sep 11, 2013 at 7:37 AM UTC
.
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
.
Jan 10, 2022
Jan 10, 2022 at 5:07 PM UTC
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Oct 13, 2013
Oct 13, 2013 at 8:35 PM UTC
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 12:23 PM UTC
arid times
draw closer
the terrain
shall be bleached
not a scintilla
of greenness
shall be apportioned
on acreages
days of phosphorus
filled skies
prevailing
as the soils
dry to a crisp
the landholders
shall be depressed
of state
the wicked heat
not in abatement
summers coming
drought
is soon to be here
the searing winds
from north west flank
burning
with intensity
creeks and rivers
barren of flows
the countryside
not quenched
of its thirst
fear shall grip
farming communities
bereft of rain
month after month
of scorching inure
the outlook
grim of prospect
to dust
the landscape
shall transform
rendering it
to a sterile
vastness
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:22 AM UTC
You're little mental stings hit my mind
But it's not that i don't know where to find
Them
I think this is a losing battle
And its better to disperse
Because nobody wants a curse
I don't what's tainted to be worse
You threw me off course
When you say certain statements
I hate negative isolation and abatement
It feels like there's anthills of misfortune and i can't stand it.
May 7, 2016
May 7, 2016 at 5:27 PM UTC
He leaves his window open
so the cool sea breeze wafts in
he's curtains gently flutter
kissed by nights marine winds
He's on an ocean of thought
with waves of passion
smashing into the shoreline
with no abatement
He's riding sea horses of dreams
dancing on the crest of white horses
holding tight to the reins
with fetlocks all a flowing
What must be must be
the blue waits for he
this is his calling
the call to the sea
By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris
Dec 17, 2013
Dec 17, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Feb 8, 2014
Feb 8, 2014 at 4:47 PM UTC
.
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn souls' veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 9:09 PM UTC
(20 minute poetry)
There will be homeless this
Christmas,
some not so old,
There will be homeless this
Christmas,
out in the cold and
there'll be warmth and wine
for some, that's quite fine
this Christmas.
And while the Tories tell stories of pixies and elves
there will be beggars on Broadway who talk to themselves,
this Christmas.
(Let us not forget the poor folk who've yet to find a place to call their home)
Merry Christmas.
Sleigh bells ring,
Noise abatement!
the police attend and
take a statement,
nothing goes right
there's no
Silent night
It's a party in the
West end
wonderland.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 7:44 PM UTC
We found each other lonely and afraid
Not too long after, a bond was made
We soon realized we were significant to each other
And so significant she became, this one was not the same...
as the ones that came before, this one knew more
Yet she stayed around, she sought to traverse the trembling ground...
that was my self-esteem and troubled mind
And I did the same for her too, together we grew
And before we knew, our love felt most pure and true
Yet even though I rose high, my love didn't always erase her wish to die
Days blossomed and shined
Weeks lived and died
At our best we planted beautiful memories...
at our worst we hung dead together from trees
But mostly, we loved each other seemingly indefinitely
Eventually, our corpse filled days bled into our loving ways
My spark for her heart faded away,
just like everything else these days
She was no longer something to adore
I could no longer fight to see her soar
I could no longer keep her in the sky
Every moment with her felt like a lie
As even though we still laughed, we both smelled something had begun to die
We knew it wasn't the same anymore
We knew it didn't feel like before
Yet she refused to part ways
Until I said that's how it has to be
It was the best for her and me
And so part we did for some time, hoping it will clean the grime
Alas, I felt better on my own, my love did not regrow
We met some time later, I made my statement of abatement
She was saddened but she already had her eye on a potential replacement
And so I carry on, sometimes recalling her smile, wishing it will seem vile
But this is not how I feel
Our love felt pure and real, and it was
Until it started to rot, then it was not.
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 5:51 PM UTC
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 9:06 PM UTC
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn soul's veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 3:48 AM UTC
Looking out over the city night entices me to shudder my eyes which otherwise would feel the thousand piercing needles of endless light.
Bathed in darkness I feel whole. A dark armor against the ********** of the all consuming nothingness.
The bleak abatement of perception withholding the inner workings of natural thought replaced by extraneous rhetoric.
The dark star shines in spite of the sinful rain and jet black flowers bloom from barren earth where dreams have died.
A blood stained sky looms in regret and longing over the scarred eye of the world.
This flood of tears casts a dysmorphic shadow on the horizon.
Immutable darkness holds it's breath as an ephemeral light chases shadows once again across the earth.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 5:09 PM UTC
.
So many words between us—
The caustic breech of abatement, ruin
Runs atonal, in recitals of indifference,
How even the ****** birds now sound
Discordant and rain crushes as it falls,
Ballistic.
The pinprick stars are merely eyes
Undraped to the worn souls' veil
And gorgon time roils setting our feet
In the crust of wishes and delusions
Kept.
The bullet riddled skies in absence
Of colour are but particulates of lime
To the moonless night. Words have no
Eyes, they can only finger.
O the sorrows of the untouched—
The cruelty of the sightless and bent blind,
Drab vermillion stars felled like forced tears.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 2:38 PM UTC