"abnegation" poems
dead in the night
all alone
dead inside
eyes wide open
glued to the ceiling
gone all mental healing
all the overthinking
praying for redemption
followed by slow blinking
for shame, i'm left with feelings of abnegation.
Dec 1, 2019
Dec 1, 2019 at 1:40 PM UTC
The melodious voice, her silent voice.
Is nothing but a harsh reality of your choice.
Shutting her up and putting her down,
Doesn't give you a wise man's crown.
She who out of love performed every act of abnegation,
She is the one, the true sensation.
How could you be so insensitive to not hear?
So much she said through the eyes in tear.
For love and respect today she whines,
Despite your ruthless nature, with her love, you, she binds.
Maybe you don't know,
Even in dark she can glow.
She can extend the unforgiving minute,
Her strength and purity has no limit.
She standing on earth has reached the stars and sky,
Still in misconceptions you are high.
Open your eyes, your heart, your soul!
You're nobody to charge on her life any toll.
Do not underestimate this silent voice,
Her unsaid is heard even in the noise.
When this silent voice will come out of its shell,
Will that be the time when you'll ring a bell?
Today the voice is silent.
Tomorrow, my friend, it might be violent.
One who has brought you on this earth,
Don't dare to consider her as dirt.
Silently she can give you the pain of your life,
She is nobody but your mother, daughter or wife.
Her silent voice is loudest everywhere.
Her absence you won't be able to bear.
So from today, begin to care.
Wise man's crown then you'll wear.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
This sherry trifle with clotted cream,
that tray of sugar cookies there.
My best laid plans to lose some weight
are thwarted by this time of year.
I shouldn’t go for my arteries’ sake
to Holiday parties with frosted cakes
As it is, I can inhale
chocolates quicker that I can Kale.
Each holiday brings treats and beers
and another roll of fat appears.
Perhaps before I’m too far gone
I ought to switch to Ramadan.
While not convinced about the rest
Self abnegation should be stressed.
Dec 27, 2011
Dec 27, 2011 at 5:36 PM UTC
~~~<^>~~~
cupped carefully
In our palm
is a tiny
light
we caress it gently
tenderly
then hold it to
our
*****
there it seeps
into our
*pores
lungs
heart*
flows into our
bloodstream
to feed our
flesh
exhaled
it is
*brilliant
magnificent
terrible*
it reflects every
*race
color
creed
idea
annihilation
abnegation
angst
joy
sorrow
pain*
everything that can be
conceptualized
by
the mind of
MAN
we have named it
POETRY
soulsurvivor
(C) 6/7/2015
Jun 7, 2015
Jun 7, 2015 at 4:33 PM UTC
Beatrice,
Dauntless,
Tris,
Selfless,
Smart,
Prior,
Fighter,
Saviour,
Lover,
A girl with one dream.
To find the truth.
Candor.
A girl who gives homage to those who need it.
Amity.
Beatrice,
Tris,
Prior.
Abnegation,
Dauntless,
Erudite,
Amity,
Candor.
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 1:07 PM UTC
Application of misinformation
Falsify a failed nation,
Eradication of all creation
Misinterpretation
Of representation
Deny the station
Granted by occupation
And the inhalation
Of justification
No prerequisite information
Just accumulation
No moderation,
Their determination
Through stimulation
Cultural ************
Communal degradation
Societal desecration,
Dehumanizing revocation,
Worldly humiliation,
Mortal sterilization
Never achieving mobilization
Lack of communication
Excelling in vile persuasion,
Proponents of procreation
Birthing digitization,
Destroy civilization,
Indications of adoration
Isolation in delineation,
Irrational indexation,
Fluctuating indignation,
No innovation,
Divination
Retaliation,
Immolation,
False ovation,
Lacking limitations,
Contextual intonation,
Divine fabrication,
Private publication,
Evolving fornication,
Give me extermination,
Notwithstanding annexation
Of dismaying oxidation,
Of valued perpetuation,
Global mass-castration,
Redundant rhetoric, dictation,
A donation, a dilation, a fixation,
An annotation of fibrillation,
We are personification
Of Contamination
Through globalization
Praising idolization
And finalization
Through **********
No pragmatic exoneration,
In all frustration
We see not utilization
Nor stabilization,
Fearful implications
Of wayward stations,
Surplus mutilations,
Seeking militarization
Of worthless nations,
No conservation,
Just excavation
Of the population
******** on education,
Spitting on graduation,
No validation of aspiration,
Indoctrination of baptization
Mitigating litigation,
murdering habitation,
Quelling all vegetation
We will end in radiation
Through faulty navigation,
Abdication and abnegation,
All worldly agitation
Leads us to expiration,
Self-made annihilation.
There was never an end in sight,
We’re lost, and hope is a lie.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 8:14 PM UTC
Woman
an anthropomorphic angel
with infinite passion
who can hardly be discerned,
you have yet to learn
to find out what her heart really yearns
Woman
an emblem of abnegation
who can hardly be discerned,
you have yet to learn
to discern her concern
Woman
an anthropomorphic angel
with womanly intuition,
Who can hardly be discerned
whether she is ethereal or earthy?
Mar 7, 2016
Mar 7, 2016 at 3:37 PM UTC
Organization man. In the best sense
creating the environment in which experiments
can be savored and remembered.
Then there is the world of interlocked
organizations. A world of missions and contracts
finely tuned and binding.
Is the formation of associations
as instinctual as nesting and gestation?
A leader may be one who asks a question.
Or may be one imposing order.
Imposed through consensus and broad shoulders.
Waits, watches, acts his part.
I was impressed by the list of distinguished senators
from Vermont. He placed himself among men,
orators, imperfect, in history.
We march forward, imperfect in our justice
and compassion. Overriding logic with conscience
sometimes, not often, when it counts.
And mercy. A seemingly irrational, total
abnegation of the markets, rules of war, law.
Good to be so flawed.
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 10:42 AM UTC
post haste
ad hoc
ad infinitem
off we go
don't you know
a taste of
high waisted
words
a just and
spectacular
flow
perhap not
nobody
really knows
fire works
sparks and blows
of letters
settin your
world aglow
may even be some
vernacular
on show
word spar
no, no
just emptying
the brain's
word jar
in one
ridiculous
go
blatherskite
wowsers
braggadicio
thats right
words of
nonsense
might
break out
fake out
make out
to be
smarter
than they
truly are
spay my
toungue
and leash
my brain
before
i reign
in origami
crown
and
threadbare
poet's cloak
rockin rolling
ruling
seesaw slow
ride to
insecurity
teetering
on a throne
of mispronounciation
and bleghhgity blah rime
mine
no one elses
you all primed
check my byblow
what do ya know
abnegation
eschewal
abjuration
palinode
retraction
of recantation
no retaliation
just words
in a quick
an flirty show
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 9:41 PM UTC
Frowning through my tears of joy,
I’m the kind of person who
Glowers when happy - plays decoy,
But I’ll always bleed for you.
Kiss me – in the wind and rain.
Touch me – I want to feel the strain.
Hold me – I need to hear your heart beating.
Warm me – in the cold and dark.
Break me – into a million shards.
Take me – I want all of you and nothing else.
Something unbound, something awakened,
Something made of revelations sweet,
Something which we don’t have to hasten,
Somewhere that I don’t have to fear,
Something renowned - lost in translation,
Something of an exploration sweet,
Something without abnegation,
Something born of deprivation’s heat,
Something from our raw starvation,
Something to give affirmation sweet,
Something of pure intoxication,
Something free of all complications prior,
Something in my adoration,
Something in your infiltration sweet,
Something in our desperation,
Something which dares not even one glance back,
Something without hesitation.
But so simple.
Apr 26, 2013
Apr 26, 2013 at 3:55 PM UTC
just another day, this eve of May
with April's abnegation of her title, the queen of time
just another day, when the mother marked an "X" on the calendar,
holding her breath with hope, her coffee in one hand
and the red pen in the other, the hand she used to make two slashes
to bring your boy a fraction closer to home
he was to arrive alive and well in a fortnight,
neatly packaged, like a belated mother's day gift
a reasonable thing to expect, the eve of May,
since you, his father, had arrived the same way,
after her same hand, younger, more dream driven,
had brought you home with the same crosses
but you, the man for whom she waited, all those eves ago
were wrapped neatly only long enough to see April's thirty crosses,
May's eager ambitious start, and you came unwrapped,
leaving your uniform on the bedroom floor
in a heavy heap you said reminded you of what you left behind,
not in the steaming stench of Mekong’s paddies,
but in the quiet lanes of your hometown,
in the high school where you met her, the church where you married
and where you were sure you would be buried
‘twas not yet to be so, your eve of May passed,
along with thirty five more, though you were there,
walking the same streets, to you, the crumpled green garments
were still in a heap on the floor, even though
she had buried them in a drawer years before
you did not mark off the days, for they made you
wonder if their end meant your homecoming
and not his, an infidelity you felt
you watched March march by, and April finally relent
when “they” came to the door, neatly packaged themselves,
***** and filled with well formed words--you did not hear them,
though you saw their lips move, and you watched
your wife walk past, to the ancient kitchen,
the kingdom of the calendar,
and make a final "X" this eve of May
just another day, when another mother's son
who was crucified in the desert
would become a mystic memory
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 4:24 PM UTC
awesome apothecary addressed as Agamemnon
alleviates anxiety, and alimentary aggravation
anodyne appeasement arrests ailment
amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness
assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault air afoul
affable affinity affects adumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,
although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly
Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,
and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed
albeit admonishing, alluding,
and attributing authored
autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents
accompanying as accomplished accomplices
accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals
acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating
appositely advocating ancillary assistance
addict adrift afloat anchors away
assails along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration
against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite
acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable
any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted
alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as aerosmith ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant
acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
The Pain of Love
by Michael R. Burch
for T. M.
The pain of love is this:
the parting after the kiss;
the train steaming from the station
whistling abnegation;
each interstate’s bleak white bar
that vanishes under your car;
every hour and flower and friend
that cannot be saved in the end;
dear things of immeasurable cost ...
now all irretrievably lost.
Note: The title “The Pain of Love” was suggested by an interview with Little Richard, then eighty years old, in Rolling Stone. He said that someone should create a song called “The Pain of Love.” I have always found the departure platforms of railway stations and the vanishing broken white bars of highway dividing lines to be terribly depressing. Keywords/Tags: pain, love, parting, kiss, train, whistle, departure, platform, interstate, dividing, line, hour, flower, friend, lost, cost
Mar 25, 2020
Mar 25, 2020 at 4:43 AM UTC
Out across an open sky,
There a chasm could be spied,
Its truths and meaning it belied,
A beautiful place for me to die.
I went abreast my own spirit,
Deep down the gorge, a fire lit,
It warmed me in the darkened pit,
It there calmed my hellish fit,
It seems to now have come and pass,
The world I knew has turned to glass,
Fracturing now, violent and fast,
And in this crevice I must now last.
Appearing also not like before,
As if kept secret in some moldy lore,
That where we were in years of yore,
We lost all hope, what we’re meant for.
No rain has reached me, no condensation,
No emotion either, no commiseration,
I can’t see further, down on obliteration,
I freely remain in abnegation.
I would still not hear compliment,
I still am unable in sentiment,
Thus far, existing in my resent,
I have reached paradise, regret, repent.
Objectivity in vile domain,
I must again from life refrain,
Where one does dare themselves ordain,
In loneliness, we seek only pain.
Seeing clearly to some extent,
I leave this world in hateful neglect,
I wouldn’t have chosen to be subject
To a world where we fail and deem it correct.
I am not unlike any other,
An abject son, a broken brother,
I can’t exist with “one another,”
I lay waste to land, destroy “each other,”
Lackluster faith and false idolization,
Leave what’s at stake to mass predation,
Content in squalor and mental ************
Leading to loss of all sensation.
The darkness of this pit is calming,
I find the peace ever so charming,
It acts as shelter, exists as Eden,
This garden of gloom, miserable freedom.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 9:11 PM UTC
Any path would I take that you showed me love along and promised there was more to come. What would tribulations be to me on that journey. Yet not every guide conducts us forever. And to persist for the sake of a mistaken loyalty, to betray grace by meritorious abnegation is to be led astray. It is not Love's way nor Charity what is not freely given. (to be continued)
Oct 29, 2014
Oct 29, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
prisoner to curiosity and inhibition
this is not an abnegation will
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 6:57 PM UTC
If you think my hands are full, you should see me heart. I carry the weight of others on top of my own, looking for my own place to call home. I wander and stray, stubborn some say, but being independent is my only way. I once saw a young girl who was confident with ease, but as she grew up, that feeling became cocky and then almost fictitious. She had a beautiful brain, pure soul, and a kind heart. Until one day, her walls came crashing down, insecure, as well as unsure. Now that young girl has a tainted soul, broken heart, and a confused brain. You see, her hands can hold the weight until she can bare no more, then drop the tangible burdens onto the floor. However, her heart, it keeps expanding, keeps inhaling-it can't drop the weight at any given moment. So she continues her journey always looking for atonement.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
prosaic prologues bewitch
feeble minded scribe doth undertake
tend toward lugubriousness ring tone
for goodness sake
echoing across,
a figurative lake woebegone, where quake
shutters latched storm windows,
clapped closed winter season didst make
physical environment lachrymose
analogous to imp pond durable dark lake
where sits inside secluded hut,
this fledgling author named Jake
a former cub (scout) at a loss
to string together an aria
tomb other nature and NOT FAKE,
sepulchral paeon to divine Gaea, Mother Earth
especially incorporating
mutisyllabic (sesquipedalian) words,
which exertion
on par with giving birth
(or so I guess),
a particularly heavily pregnant laden dearth
of help mates, doubling demonstrably
deadly duty devoid of mirth
totally tubular taxing toll,
an essentially unbearable
effort with bulging girth
whereat digestion consumes
latent mental ambition,
especially toasty warm near the hearth
which hitherto unknown to any reader
twas Xmas fabrication and fiction
no crime committed, nor animals harmed
in the making of diction
aery necessary entrapping unsuspecting intellect
to comprehend somber benediction
unless perchance one lone wolf
bait Oven English Major
with Westernization
topped off with a European
debunaire suave acculturation
even luckier if hypothetical personage
dips daintily into forays epicurean,
though careful,
and alert since church fathers
would frown on parsonage
whose natural born ardor,
a spiritual abduction
stealing austerity, complacency, and objection
toward forced irrational schemas
averse to abnegation
unfair imposition
to foist upon pruriant predilection
also impossible mission
to sequester arbitrary animal urges,
punishing call of the wild,
sowing seeds a ******** accusation
considered averse,
then imposition contrition!
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 12:58 AM UTC
It thrills me
The haphazard drumbeats
The hushed, excited whisper of the wind
Churning the leaves on the branches
This is a night for excitement
The rush of cool water down drainpipes
A rolling roar of thunder
The patter slows, then stops,
Then starts again.
How the rain washes away
I feel lightheaded
White light on the windowsill
Washing over the navy sky
A great murmur of crackling sound
The branches on the magnolia tree
Stark black, barely visible now
How much power must you feel,
Thunderstorm,
To give so much life
Take away
Frighten the people
Yet hold them in your embrace
Gently wrapping them up
In your light it lights up brighter than the day
How can you be so harsh, yet comforting
Wailing, tearing ripping, growling
Yet soft as silk
So empowered
The elements giving you strength
Wild I can only think of dark grey
No bland about this Abnegation
Thoughts are whirling away
Swirling by like leaves down brooks
The mind is a fickle thing when faced
With the bright glass eye
That
Dancing
Singing
Stabbing
Stinging
Storm.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 9:01 PM UTC
Before you I longed to be noticed, never to think how closely.
Ripe and married in the eyes of the lord the daunting task to officiate our union felt anything but holy.
And just like the crisp of fall ends and the swift frost of winter enters the atmosphere, almost like a magic trick a part of me was purged.
Life a new as a wife and soon to be mother.
Self stripped of character, creating a fresh flesh slate-stone the record of my rebirth will be set in.
Tattered house dresses replacing the prized complimentary gowns.
Once being looked upon with passion and effervescence now casted glances of carnal lust and depreciation advanced towards me.
Self abnegation and nothing less, a ladies place.
Locker room talk and snickers laced with malice, “A ladies place?” Contradiction in that thought.
A ladies place is on the front lines, behind closed doors.
Tears over teenaged heartbreak wisk away into the air and settle now as young runny noses and dry whining eyes.
The name called up on you now only referring to the status provided.
A fathers daughter, a mans wife and a sons mother.
Nov 11, 2018
Nov 11, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
A beautifully, intricate creation
Formed by a child's imagination
Capturing life through another's eyes
No room left for abnegation
The paintbrush bleeds as an artist cries
A clean canvas presents us with endless tries
Art is an unrestricted liberation
Accessible during both lows and highs
Acting as life's illustration
As our society's restriction dies
Oct 3, 2024
Oct 3, 2024 at 1:59 PM UTC
The artists sleep naked in open fields ,
chilled by the rains of spring
They walk carefully without cover through -
the cloudburst of summer , forging -
swollen streams to the beat of their -
internal drummer
The writer braves the pang of November -
showers , documenting his or her travails -
with each passing hour
Just as the winter snow shall melt and collect , -
forming pools of quiet reflection ,
the creator will continue their quiet struggle -
with forethought and materialistic abnegation ....
Amen ....
Amen .....
Feb 22, 2018
Feb 22, 2018 at 11:24 PM UTC