"absquatulate" poems
Love.
Of course, the great spirit said that word
when he set down the majesty of mountains
thus, spread curling softness through the seas,
sending little creatures wriggling, crawling, mewling, howling,
oh ye little fish and fowl, doodled up the dinosaurs,
a lumbering jurassic joke, then unleashed leviathan
from just a speck, and made some others walk *****
Love.
That word we need to hear
and the word that hurts so much.
It comes crowned with garlands, glistening
with the dew of pleasure. And underneath, the horn thrusts up
Dionysius and Venus, processions of Priapus, frenzied satyriasis
blind Baccus, luscious Pan and Zeus.
Ah yes. The juice.
Love.
And who has not recklessly ignored this word
or squandered it on abandoned, neon nights
that paled before the coming of cold mornings,
and who has not held back this word
from loved ones,
cowards of commitment,
circumcelliate, averruncate and absquatulate?
Love.
That little, mighty word that dominates our lives.
But what can we require of life and how can we survive
indifference in the barren waste and stay alive outside
without its whisper, without its cry and shout? And how can we aspire
to ecstasy without the tumult and whirlwind of its desire,
without its warmth, without its fire? So, we must turn again
to love's softness and love's pain. Again. And yet again.
Love.
It's easy, really. So go on, say it.
It's time. Why not? It's for the mothers and the lovers,
the fathers, it's for all the children who blindly seek.
It's for the teenagers and trembling old and the outcast and the isolate.
Even the soldier with the gun. Especially. It's for everyone.
The grave is lonely, deep and cold. By giving love before it's too late
those soft wings of the dove of peace unfold.
Love is the playmate. Enjoy, reciprocate.
This is the message I communicate.
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 5:55 PM UTC
Absquatulate,
flee to the unknown,
where I can be an organism
of concinnity,
deipnosophist I will,
dine with Plato on an herb
deracinate me,
become a dance or song
with effable eternity
flatline...
to infinity,
or possibly....
continue to hunt and peck.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 7:51 PM UTC
I am hesitant
to pour less words on paper
left to drift away
Apr 21, 2021
Apr 21, 2021 at 10:48 PM UTC
Sitting in the quiet pulchritude,
In limerence, I am drenched,
Luculent from head to foot.
Watching people gallivanting -
Some agathist, impavid with life,
In eucatastrophe, they are.
The lollylags and misantrophic,
Dillydallying with humdudgeon.
The rugrats in constant bumfuzzle;
Stroking their rumpots are the drunk,
A man and a woman, and a bingle,
Then a belgard was exchanged.
No noise, just music in my ears;
No argle-bargle of the blatherskite;
No conniption from old hag.
No need to absquatulate,
Just enjoy the quiet festivities.
Tiny hairs on my arms stood on end,
As I felt the wind surround me.
What a beauty this place is,
The hoddy-noddies took for granted.
Melancholy, serenity, strangely nostalgic.
Pictures of the past and the future,
Disembogue, delivered from my head.
All this images ensorcell me, over and over,
With a final intake of breath and a shudder,
I took in the picture, forever encapsulated in my mind.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:46 PM UTC
it's about learning that love doesn't come with an address
rather, a skeleton you hung in the subconscious element of your closet
i'm learning the grey area that resulted in the clash of our existences is something i don't fundamentally need
three days ago i realized its something i don't want
hey i'm still writing to you as if it were my career and i'm learning that
with you, i never had to taste the metallic tone of closure
i just, left. you didn't know
my last "i love you" would be the last and
instead of writing you novels and sobbing in between
every page, i stomped my feelings into bottles and lately i've been busy imagining the emotion that comes along with splitting a fine wine thats festered in my gut for quite some time
maybe i'll share it with my mirror,
sleeping on the floor is becoming much too frequent as is getting drunk off of emotion, only to
wish you were here
Dec 22, 2014
Dec 22, 2014 at 12:03 PM UTC
im captured
stuck in this fen
this fen of confusion and hurt
we had to absquatulate
im wishing for a thaumaturgy
dont they see we are copacetic together
this selcouth relationship we have
i zetetic some way out of this
a way for this to be excepted
but this is just the ord
the ord of a trail of upturned beaks and hateful sneers
the ord of what we call fate.
why must there be this unwanted wrath
this unwanted hurt
why are we so unwanted
this is us not them
this is a relationship no one can understand but us
this is something worth fighting for.
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 4:25 PM UTC
you were the lacunar bolt the part
of a life spent wishing on stars
if stars had ever granted anything but light
chatoyant the yellow pilot lamp
down the street trembles weakly
wanting to burn out it flickers like a sun
struggling long past its expiration date
I was an absquatulate scholar
of wrinkled bedsheets and the way
the light ineffable shone around us
as though we were the ******* center of it all
a slow-motion salvation is better
than instant gratification behind words
like I believe I can’t accept this
I will give you back
your left behind particulars: your lingerie
your photographs the calligraphy in your letters
the blanket I have slept under for three years
dreaming you might give me back the ring
I willfully saved for you in the abditory
between these walls I was building
for us broken promises refract sanguine light
and shape future homes into abandonment
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
I think I'll have to
absquatulate
From the scene
Of poetry's
Crime.
The worlds
Given me to much
Of that
Bobsy-die!
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
Mine skeleton conveyed
Through the slope's of death's cave;
No longer incarcerated
Free from being a worldly slave.
I hadst to absquatulate
As I needed to escape the afreet;
They reached out their talon's
Hooves wrapped around their feet.
An amphisbaena was awaiting me
To taketh a bite from mine soul;
Yet God was mine deliverer
He carried me to his abode.
The anguilliform couldst not grab at me
As they called out mine name;
"Brandon, cometh here they saidst"
As I saw the rising flame.
Though tis mine creator kept them back
As mine lifeform left the dust;
He sprinkled the aspergillum
As mine spirit was drenched in heaven's musk.
©Brandon nagley
©Lonesome poet's poetry
Aug 6, 2015
Aug 6, 2015 at 10:43 AM UTC
Firmament reflected in her eyes; leaves shading her face while some of the sunlight escapes through in-between; stealing a peck
Emitting a long-deep-audible breath like recapitulating the antiquity of her life’s melancholy
“I’m exhausted...” like the changing colour of autumn’s leaf.
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 10:30 AM UTC
But what's the point?
Phospholipids, sucrose, phosphates
Biology feels like memorizing vocabulary.
Absquatulate, etymological, effluvium
English wants me to be a human glossary.
Axiom, cartesian, diophantine
Math is repeating the same problems in different ways.
Feudalism, hegemony, cartellino
History is staring at facts about dead people.
Humdrum, repetitiousness, homogeneity
Every second of monotony bores me.
Was it always like this?
Oct 2, 2018
Oct 2, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC
You're
lies,
they
are all
covered
in
"I love you's"
- Me, absquatulate.
Feb 28, 2019
Feb 28, 2019 at 12:37 PM UTC
i am polarized,
help me unpolarize.
there's nothing at the center,
blame me as i'm the traitor.
at the two poles,
stood the two souls.
the tales of how they absquatulate,
fighting each other as sanity fades.
i wander,
ponder,
wonder,
i'm a goner.
help me unpolarize,
but don't sympathize.
two personas or two persons?
a and s sit next to each other, if you pay attention.
they're really different,
but please, don't be concerned.
they observe,
i'm unnerved.
so don't sympathize,
i'm tired of my lies.
the two souls control
the main control,
it becomes a ground zero,
the souls become foes.
i'm tired of my lies,
so should i close my eyes?
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 8:51 AM UTC