"absalom" poems
I've got a gravy train riding hefer
and she's ready to deliver
all the goods and the services that I never give her
cuz she's mother ****** queen absalom
in the directory's cut
of the film that won a grammy and a mammy
and made it all the way to flavortown
in the south bahaman outback of queens land
and ate all my chili beans so that I would be sad on a green day
cuz I got granades in my ******* about ready to be pulled,
and there aint no sunshine when she's gone, and there's only darkness every day, but she's never gone too long because I never learn to live without her anyway.
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 7:41 PM UTC
*My nature, once pleaded for one of these darling ones!
The amazing hope only found in the fair women down here.
A strength found only in the wilderness having the ability
To drink bourbon until dawn being absolutely naughty
And then the next morning to show you how to properly
Use a fork and knife while signing thank you cards.
To be raised up to all the heights any man could bear:
Has my God ordained my fate to be southern reborn?
Perhaps he has indeed given this soul another turn.
Gullied without a patriot's name, have I lost my sense?
Yet to be treated as if I were by law a prince.
Am I so brave or just this Belle’s tool?
I never saw a patriot yet that wasn’t a fool.
Here comes she now with religion and the laws
Should I be Absalom or should I be David's cause?
But I am the instructor, or have I lost my place?
She has taken me over with so much grace.
Good heavens, how fast must a patriot pant!
She stole me away by saying “A saint I ain’t.”
Pulling off my shoes as she pulls me down from my throne
I cross my eyes as I moan and I groan.
A kingly battle within the sweetest of torments,
Was their ever a prerequisite or my consent?
The look in her eyes – flames, fire and fury – nothing to lose.
Inferring this infernal night is ours to depose;
Oh God it’s true she’s petitioned me to approve her by choice,
But are not my hands still powered by my voice?
So my pious subjects, for my safety please pray.
I do think this Belle has taken all my will away.*
Jan 24, 2018
Jan 24, 2018 at 11:32 AM UTC
Sometimes we rant and rave here for no real value other than the release we think it grants,
A release as real as the ****** everyone seeks.
There is no release in this ether any longer, the words captured and dissected for all to consider, left us limp and wasted - unfulfilled.
The facade created for legalistic cause, show your lifestyle to be rich and full,
all it was is empty halls and vacant thoughts. Desires unfulfilled from the first, your facade.
Breakfast, lunch and dinner on the hoof!
Parties and settings to raise the roof,
False invitation and another deceit
Open the crypt of your own design.
Lay in the linens your deceit bought - rest your head on the silken pillow,
The door closes one last time
And the blade is raised.
Darkly - Kidron flows to its end
Temple on one bank, mount on the other
Dark with the blood of sacrifice
Gethsemane calling.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 11:12 PM UTC
Aug. 9.
When He Fled From Absalom.
Lord how many are my foes
How many those
That in arms against me rise
Many are they
That of my life distrustfully thus say,
No help for him in God there lies.
But thou Lord art my shield my glory,
Thee through my story
Th’ exalter of my head I count
Aloud I cry’d
Unto Jehovah, he full soon reply’d
And heard me from his holy mount.
I lay and slept, I wak’d again,
For my sustain
Was the Lord. Of many millions
The populous rout
I fear not though incamping round about
They pitch against me their Pavillions.
Rise Lord, save me my God for thou
Hast smote ere now
On the cheek-bone all my foes,
Of men abhor’d
Hast broke the teeth. This help was from the Lord;
Thy blessing on thy people flows.
1.3k
Counterpart opposite
and depleted by measures of time.
Time no longer counted upon
And its hands that measures the distance
All
one, two, three
of
them
Watches closely with intuition
as
the
minutes
go
bye.
Resolute is absent and the balance of His nature
Is unstable.
Both have grown feeble, lacking interest.
Burdened down by the weight of unevenness
Absalom has risen above the absence of the absolute
leading to a labyrinth.
.
Mystified by the maze,
He
Sits,
counting backwards,
rotating on an unhinged alignment,
expounding the injury of His inventiveness.
In another dimension of Himself, all one, two, three of them
Helios is staggered as Cupid, The God of Dark Love’s
Bow
is broken.
Now
His
equilibrium
is
faltered by the parallels between its thoughts.
Wanting love’s incarceration corrupted no more
He teeters on a stool in attempt to reverse suicide
yet the ensuing ideology of procrastination’s pride
has detoured His dilemma
However in their misfortune,
Love,
hoping to be reincarnate into another lifetime, dissolves in its delusion.
Time, in its barrenness discreetly measures the depletion and void,
and
the hands
all one, two, three of Him sits opposite
Being His
Counter in
Part
Aug 22, 2013
Aug 22, 2013 at 8:06 AM UTC
With the absence
of Grace
or transcended
human morality
there is silence
so what do you believe
when almighty Jupiter lays
crucified in the caressing arms
of Vishnu
Christ bent
broken over the knees
of Mohammad
what do you believe in
Father?
what do you believe in
Mother?
when Absalom
ascends the throne
and Daniel suffocates
in the lion’s den
what faith holds you
speechless
and chaste
as the stories
twist and burn
to crash together
on the endless palette
of human belief
the needle’s worn the
groove too deep
now the record won't play
all we have to believe in
is silence
let the deity’s roll in
celestial graves
give me human interaction
the touch of lover’s hand
sacraments that bring more absolution
than sorrowed sermons
screaming out just to
break that silence
oh, la musique de nos collisions fabriquer
laissent peu pour la l'âme à faux
Jan 24, 2013
Jan 24, 2013 at 1:38 AM UTC
Three Asian women
One e-mail address:
Good call, error window always tennis'
Annual pharmaceutical architecture;
Tel Skrska. Brief description of the New York border Suwanantorio Astronomy maintained. In Belgium, to school,
because it is Vincent Biscuit "Delete". The woman is the dream
of many women. Nigerians malesuada running. I'm flying;
Jersey. Sebastian - grandfather
British NGO Ivory Coast is hiding in the United States.
From behind Yes. Hlutum 1100 heat / code
New Jersey, New Jersey
Diana Yusuf was born 30 minutes ago; But women and young girls,
which is more than 1000 people (1500)
| |
Johnny is π
| |
He died in the place where the body lieth the naked, the longer one of amino great his legs, the mother of the man of the night was the night of the night, of the night, of the night, in the night, the girl of the red of the color of the town day and night, the maids, a girl with gloves and green branches in the time of the queen of the space of the space of the space of the space of the space of the space of the space of Hoshiboshi Art space of the space of the space of the space of the space of the space of the space of the space of the space of the space of the love of the children of the blood, in water, a poet, his back against the green ridges of the warm darkness, the young prince to come, the dream of the child, the gray hairs of Asia, of the aged, yellow, my son Absalom, my son, my son, the prince was of noble birth, my son, my son, to the spirit of the power of eyeglasses the Gauls, the walls of the star dinner drink mode, the star of the baby food, and drinks, and the fallen star of the fuel for the food and I am writing to deliver Of a sweet mystery through the eyes of the Jews violated Russian poet, according to the ninja rich knew autumn nature windows ***** Netsukoe south field Standard Center socks my son absolutely Medusa put into a song to read women's legs daughter language mountain lips of Barbie knowledge of alchemy remember names are waiting for dance in Africa friends, care must be taken to be a madman with his fingers; they smoke Geimira of Asia, the Christians, the mountain of the park the park the prophet feel happy, wet, Marcus Tullius, peace begins: the people, the brain, wave, motion, modern, for example, the knowledge of which it is written, full of the lust of the inside,
Christopher is important to him. Crown of Asia.
Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 10:41 PM UTC
Run Rabbit, Run,
Alice is after you,
Alice, The Madman, or
The local federals-
Given the chance,
All would take a leg for luck,
The hand of fate,
Has passed you up,
And here you stand,
Hips in tuck,
Saved in passing,
granted luck-
it turns out that I’m the Rabbit
and you the Madman in the tall hat.
You've poisoned the tea and spiked the punch with ACID!
Oh Absalom! Absalom!
Grant me safety in your smoky blue carousel,
My legs have gone gimp,
I've been running for days-
The beast called Alice,
Is drawing near,
Her thundering steps,
Are all I hear,
This short-bread cake,
Will quell my fear,
Though the smiling cat,
Will forever peer-
His eyes are gleaming,
Bright and blue,
Iris sharp,
Focused on you,
No blinking, no moving,
That cheeky grin,
His frozen face,
Softened by the gin-
Brass buttons clasp,
The muddied breeches to my belly,
An everlasting coat,
That drags in the dust-
The smiling cat stoops his head,
“To get beneath the branch”, he said,
But really what I think he wants,
Is to get a better look at my watch-
If Alice were to find me,
The game would be up,
The treasure I've found,
The sword, the watch, the cup,
Lost to the ether,
They would be found,
By the big headed queen,
In her rouge hearted crown-
“Save me! Save me Queen!” I pleaded with the *****
No longer needing,
My help or my time,
She had found the gold, found the sword,
And taken the crown-
My uses were up,
I was kicked to the side-
“Oh Absalom! Absalom!”
Will you help me now?
Have I shown you my worth as a runner?
All I need is a bite,
Of your spotted toad-stool,
A puff of your pipe,
And I’ll be on my way-
No help from the slug, I return to the tea-party-
To sit and drink and make merry with the wood-folk-
The Hatter has tricked me into his game,
It has rendered me blind,
His sweet tasting tea,
Is playing with my mind,
He says to relax,
Take it easy,
Close my eyes,
He’ll see me again,
Once that Red Queen has died-
I like it right here,
In my world of light and colour,
I can’t hear anymore,
Or at least I can’t hear the fuss-
Though I know when I wake,
That Alice will be gone-
When morning comes round I must be prepared to run-
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 8:45 AM UTC
“I killed my son,” he said, fielding the catch in his voice,
words plain, unwreathed with plea or pardon.
“They say it was an accident, but I swerved the sled
that hit the tree that slammed the skull
that bruised his brain and knocked the life
right out of him. I heard it slip away. Twice.
I couldn’t get a handle on something so fluttery,
went right past me real slow, but too quick
just the same. Air, they told me, is what it was,
escapes from the lungs when the brain is only matter.
“Ten years old, curled up, a question mark on an envelope of snow.
Death arrived and I, to him no more than a mitten or a cap,
barely breathed as any creature does when danger seems close,
a lunge or swipe away. He stood, his face beneath a mask,
or so I thought, although I’d seen neither.
“And then one night he came again, I knew, for me.
Hours I waited in horror, to see what look he had
or what he buried. The hardest work I’ve ever done,
to will my eyelids up, to see--not night, not death,
but light and love and morning.”
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 2:48 PM UTC
i come to you each month to leave a prayer to be said. i have no faith yet live in hope. #chestercathedral
look at mosaics, oh absalom, my son, my son.
wonder where the justice is. i come to think on things. each time i am challenged as to my reasons, & do i have a ticket?
#chestercathedral
it is enough to put some off from visiting at all. only the brave. thank you.
#chestercathedral
pray for them, all is in disorder.
sbm.
Jul 12, 2017
Jul 12, 2017 at 1:13 AM UTC
oh absalom, my son, my son.
cry out, travel miles to
worship, purify.
pray for him, the note
says all is disorder.
travel miles to tell those who
cannot hear, nor listen.
yet. if you cannot believe all
that is told, find a place your
own.
never mind the ancestors, absalom
my son.
sbm.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 1:40 AM UTC
Absalom usurped the throne
Ungrateful for his flesh and bone
His heart as cold and hard as stone
Declared his father’s house his own
Absalom, who in his greed
The fourth commandment did not heed
Rode his horse at breakneck speed
Anxious to see his father bleed
Absalom, who would not see
The just way for a son to be
From all good sense with haste did flee
And ran his horse right through a tree
Absalom is way up there
His feet are dangling in the air
Caught up in branches by his hair
Round the tree men stop and stare
Trapped Absalom, the young upstart
Had no one there to take his part
Joab armed with deadly dart
****** it through the young man’s heart
Joab thought the victory won
The messenger did gladly run
The King’s question was only one:
What of Absalom, my son?
The messenger confirmed his fears
And David weeping manly tears
Mourned his son’s lost unborn years
To cut the heart of each who hears
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 9:51 AM UTC
People I only knew in passing-
Lovers on a hotel bed, lost in the feeling of controlled chaos, ******* until the sun signals surrender, the stars burning holes in their memories that cannot be pieced together again,
Brothers in different hospital rooms, two halves of one whole engine praying for a spark, to be able to stand on ones own, IV drips trickling down dreams of a brighter morning to collapsed veins and broken synapses,
Sisters in opposing time zones, living out play acted scripts of the same drama in various adaptations, the first act the divine comedy, the second act the hellish tragedy, we all tend to fall somewhere in the middle with these types of things
I don't know where I fit into any of this
I once thought I could piece together the story from the fragments I am left with,
But they're nothing more than points in a vague interest, clean surfaces for drugs, nothing to write home about
Have you gotten thinner? Has your hair gotten longer? Have you slept recently? Have you left your house today? How long has it been? How many cigarettes? How many inches of rain? How many sunsets? How many phases of the moon? The last time you spoke to a ghost what did he say? Did he mention me?
I am living seance, forcing questions into spaces they have no business,
My art is the hand that murdered Absalom, the hand that cuts the lines of pills, the hand that slits the throat of the hydrogen future
The cool, slick ************ sitting wide eyed and high in supernatural pretense, in eternal condemnation of the enemy,
Don't you know if you're broke and suicidal you can just blame it on the alignment of the planets?
It could all be so easy
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 2:15 AM UTC
The music was crap and the singer went flat
but the words sunk in too deep and drowned
I rise in the lexicon
Luther and Superman
Marvel at me the comedian
see how they laugh,
On stage, one page, one more time
Lois is mine
but he's having none of it
I give him kryptonite and
he ain't laughing now.
In the hanging of the gardens at Babylon
where Maria met Joseph and got it on
a baby was born
call him
Absalom.
it's all mixed up because they fixed me up wrong
a song for the stein in me?
Frank has a line on me
and somewhere
I'm being reeled in.
Oct 1, 2016
Oct 1, 2016 at 5:28 AM UTC