"abstained" poems
Gaze on that woman by the train.
With curves like gunpowder
that will shoot fireworks again.
As her and I once were.
Since then, of women, I've abstained.
My chest is a pyre
to the damsel I couldn't retain;
fondness that won’t expire.
You say I could never attain
and imply I'm a liar!?
Or you think either me insane
or least she's miswired?
The evidence on my brain -
melancholy, ire -
the despondent husk that remains,
need you more enquire?
...True, of her, no displays of pain;
eyes that jolt not tire,
poker voice tipping no disdain,
legs that feed desire!
For her, gone love is not a chain
hidden by attire
or flushed down a forgotten drain.
It merely retired.
Love like hers was the wind and rain
to my earth and fire.
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 6:09 PM UTC
I nearly fell out of my comfortable chair
when I heard some sexologist declare:
“The scent of licorice in the air
makes men and women want to pair.
Far more effective than cologne,
Use licorice or you’ll sleep alone.”
Some say Chocolate gets you “Honey”-
I say try some “Good and Plenty”
Remember Charlie? he was an engineer
He didn’t drink coffee and abstained from beer
“Charlie had an engine and he sure had fun
He used “Good and Plenty” candy
cause it made his “train” run”
For all I know, this tale is baloney
Licorice may leave you ***** and lonely.
But if you are lonely and feeling forlorn,
candy’s much cheaper than rhinoceros horn.
Apr 21, 2012
Apr 21, 2012 at 4:46 PM UTC
Come these never ending tales of war
has took its toll in all of us.
where freedom was compromised,
false judgement was thrown at us.
I adhere to correct them all
without burning bridges on opposite tail ends.
as people misunderstand with their small minds,
I Stand oppressive until this strong bark bends.
Let me free your harrased mind,
despite of these known inequalities.
Please Pardon me for my words,
we all want to end this in tranquility
we are intelligent just enough to know our selves,
our needs and wants just hidden inside our chests
knowing that all these months, I've scratched your back,
I hope you'll do the same in this wicked test.
You've all wore this masks, battle faced,
I am amused I became the villain.
this was never the same scenario
where I am lost and I've abstained.
I can never guide your rituals.
come as you are, friends?
you've all grown up and matured for this.
I have got no plans to ****** my belongings.
It is your choice. you got all of these.
I never wished to betray nor consider you all in the past.
but what I've felt it gives me sorrow.
to know that I am not part of your tomorrow.
Never wanting to compromise
but there's a feeling that I've been sacrificed.
I am raising the white flag.
but leaving all of you will be a throw of a dice
Feb 5, 2013
Feb 5, 2013 at 10:11 PM UTC
phoebe will remain my hostage until
four barrel's hipster overlords hear my plea
we're all made of sparkledust and turkish delight
and if you hate drinking sonoma butter and
having money, my doctor Archmage Overlord
said the the "happy drink" element you seek is
less like strong coffee and more like the invasion
of normandy with turkey slaughter in the background
kfc's new turkey flavored chicken tried looking
for drugs in the neighborhood but
timothy leary, his suave excellency, sheik knight of nee
abstained from the devil's coffee with headaches and brain fog
anyway, that's why i attacked the
complimentary peanuts and russian balloon juice
FURIOUS POSTSCRIPT
"no one can understand the truth until
he drinks of the feline's frothy goodness"
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 1:39 PM UTC
What, tell me,
is this lead in my brain?
When was it placed there?
Why have I abstained
from those nonsensical stories
I wrote as a kid?
Little mind unscathed,
silly thoughts untampered with.
I was such a quick thinker,
the reel never quit
What happened to the cheeky me
full of bravery and wit?
Now this heart's always pounding,
mind full of wanton dread
I suppose I'll start by peeling
Let's say off with my head!
Layer by layer
hold fast in its stead
One thought at a time now,
'til I'm back from the dead
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 8:42 PM UTC
She has such a pretty mouth for such a bitter girl.
She doesn't need any makeup or anything of that sort.
I love her too much to say so however for fear of objectification.
But it's not a question of 'if' or 'why' because the possibilities could be endless.
With a kiss so ****** those abstained words fumble out of her mouth 'as if' there needed to be a reason behind this at all.
Oct 27, 2012
Oct 27, 2012 at 10:37 PM UTC
So much red water
Coming down on me like rain
The red water
Is their pleasure and my pain
The red water
Shades of rouge on my skin stain
The red water water
Filled with particles unnamed
But the red water
Ashamed to say it gives me life
It's pure torture
Yet it is also nice
I spill water
Pluck your veins like a guitar
Liquid ruby
Garnet star
No more red water
Abstained because of my wrath
Oh well,
Time for a red bubble bath
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 7:32 PM UTC
I almost made it to the finish line
but somewhere along I took a wrong turn
segregation’s aftermath still lingering
self inflicted prejudice over one’s skin abstained
self antagonism over one’s curl pattern deeply rooted
self oppugnancy over one’s own race persistent
I know I’m not on the right course
yet blindly I continue
shackling the dependent to me
as i spiral down this cascade
too intimidated to speak out
too worried about social acceptance
too cowardly to admit it
taught that color coding is inferior
but favoritism to a specific color is acceptable
I see police brutality to a specific race
whereas other countries see
Americans killing other Americans
Republicans and Democrats both preach unity
Yet stand divided in one house
but I’m in constant denial
because I was raised as a hypocrite
I want change
but only half of me is willing to fish for that change
it wasn't always the way
minorities didn’t have a voice
so they fought for one
generations later they hoard that voice
locked in a shed
collecting dust
My people have the tools
therefore
don't be fooled
because it’s only a matter of time
before they put them to use
and mold a beautiful sculpture
Mar 27, 2016
Mar 27, 2016 at 12:35 PM UTC
I spot a drone today;
No bombs,
But with plenty o’ potential –
A will to malice,
To malcontent, to ******
I seek it south
And at its zenith,
Above dissent,
And the bastion that’d never know
Better, from worse.
So too, I spy it over the sands
And over cave,
Over Manhattan, over perdition,
And over “god,” over greed,
Over "great," and *********
Guaranteed;
A glistening, wrought silver teething,
“Dead,” come one wrong,
Word, or whatnot,
Anything antagonist “corporate,”
Our contradictory content,
Blessed, this,
“Complacency,” – indiscriminate.
Unbeknownst and melancholy-ridden,
The bombs have dropped,
And for some time now,
A sooner to be eternity
Whilst we’ve managed nothing but
The simplest of slumber;
We’re lucid but one second
And sheep more so the years.
The flock afar-critical,
As abstained become the hours,
The minutes, until, “then,”
Atop, “when,”
Whilst we learn again to breathe,
Maybe even dream,
And relieve the nooses continually
Knotted by others –
It’s an imaginary rebellion. Sure.
And I’m sure you’d agree;
Yet still, I soak a nightmare’s sweat
Whilst we gladly assume our
Peasant’s role
And as long as we do,
“They’ll,” gladly assume their
Thrones.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 11:53 AM UTC
Times behold when twisted men are captured by their spleen
When souls will writhe in torment though their thoughts are seldom seen,
When agitation rides aloft with blunt spur on its' ****
And the hounds of hell are baying as though purgatory will pass.
Torment in its' basest form is shaded beastly red
Immersing flocks of faithful in the mind set till they’re dead,
For shredded nails and worry lines, so deeply now ingrained,
Are signatured paralysis of the breed that has abstained.
Abstained in all things beautiful, such as dreams which flow in mirth,
Abstained from eyes of merriment and joyful leaps from earth,
Divorced to all that conjures up the gracious well of love
Divorced from thoughts of holiness in faith, both hand in glove.
Baptised to despondency, inured to sights and sounds
Which lift the mind's creation well beyond all earthly bounds,
Committed to the trench of the dark abyss of gloom
Assigned to unenlightenment...The soul has left the room.
© 2012 Marshal Gebbie
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 4:26 AM UTC
Forgiving the initial insane
with news abstained
ingrained
in-brain
retained
by the unrestrained
emotions, untamed
untrained
explained
by lab coats
clipboards
needles and pain
hurt, in vein
struggled in vain
to obtain
the truth refrained
by lips restrained
from medical terms
and privacy red tape
and while our hearts yearn
the anticipation escapes
from voices shaken and strained
by family, friends, staff, and passer-by;s
as a single word has stirred
emotions, devotions
a word better left unheard
Cancer
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 1:21 AM UTC
Dry the water from your eyes, leave these dreams behind,
There is no thing here for you, but the haunting ghosts in your mind.
The ocean may be sparkling in the sun, yet the ship is sinking,
Shattered down in the deep, where the beams are never winking.
So please, my dearest one, do not let yourself devour.
They will cause only pain, these dreams of yours so flowered.
The oleander may be a beauty evergreen, yet its blood so deadly,
Makes your heart stop pounding, turning it cold and heavy.
Make your dreams a different kind, like the ones that never fade,
Because yours are turning grey, and will forever remain unmade.
The fire may be an alluring saviour, yet demanding are its licks,
Leaving every soul in ashes, ruthless destruction it inflicts.
Dreams like these were never meant for a heart like yours,
So pour out your reveries, and close the tempting doors.
His wine may be sweet on your tounge, yet it will leave you drained,
And bitter is the aftertaste, wishing you had abstained.
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
this year is my year
i cut my teeth on the years before
i scraged my knees in '15
bled from my bitten tongue in ‘16
'17 saw me merciful and forgiving
and then loveless on the bathroom floor
sitting in bathtubs
my existence held
in the displacement of water in porcelain
this year is my year
try and take it from my bloodied knuckles
take it from my hanging jaw
the years before chipped away at me
with chisel and work roughened hands
the years before cut me out of marble
carved my mouth closed
swathed me in veils, made my stone flesh
look soft
this year is my year
your chisels will blunt on my skin
and when you turn your back
to find something sharper
i'll slip down the stone steps
leave my veils on your studio chair
and melt out into the night
this year is my year
there’s no material thing keeping me
nothing mortal holds me here
this year i am free to drift
between the realms and rifts of space
i will be interstellar
hung in the place between stars
this year is my year
******* try to take it from me
i wonder if the years before
made you into diamonds too
the only thing that can cut me now
is me.
Mar 10, 2018
Mar 10, 2018 at 12:56 PM UTC
With the most greenish gold luminescence embraced in a cherishing love,
so many others similar, but none matched when up above.
Warmth within the brightness only seen in the day,
never more burning then the bluest flame inherent within.
Quasars tremble at the radiance produced by the Smoldering Star,
curious is his orientation in this brilliant display of the brightness in decay.
But this Star can relish the dark,
such that black holes are forced to concede the winning shade, abstained...jealous.
The most murky oceans are visible in comparison to this Star in his cataclysmic rebellion of the light,
merely to fulfill a Gemini's prophecy of duality.
Therefore the star you see in the sky is not I,
but the reflection for the imagination in my eye, manifested as light.
The creation of such a dilation is second to the universe, however, nothing compares to finding the light you were meant to give, as the sun give to a planet
...not merely giving light, warmth, and a stable position, but also the ability to majestically generate existence.
The gravitational pull of the Smoldering Star is not that of a great gas giant,
but that of a supernova star, which has been long bereft of planetary manipulation of an epic magnitude.
Merely smoldering in dwell in semidarkness waiting to shine once again,
and like before when the strength was that of a million suns in full burn.
And while there are many stars up above,
I am among the few that shine out of love.
A Star that is always lovingly smoldering above with a smile and a hug,
depth of conversation that reaches crushing pressures of realizations in the face an inevitable annihilation.
But in the change on a second can fill you with the greatest elation with adoring connotations in a rhythmic fashion, to involve all passion.
It is not the brightness of the star.....but the amount of those illuminated by me in the end.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 2:31 PM UTC
You had two pet rabbits, one named Mickey the other Maurice,
who lived on lettuce bits and behind thin metal bars.
A caged environment set up on the study's wood floors,
with books and a red couch to keep company
and your mom, because she would finish her graphs and stats
on the mahogany desk living in the corner of the room
and she liked the rabbits purr and delicate noses
and would hold them and pet them
when she put down her pen and moleskin and accounts
because, although caged and bought at Pet World
in the strip mall across from Adult World
on the other side of Interstate 67, these rodents gave her comfort,
reminding her of Maine and Jonathan
who abstained from going and killing for sport
with his brothers when they went, in pickups
with buckshot and murdered deer and rabbits,
because she still missed Jon and bought these fluffy
white creatures for 47.99, a good deal,
and they came with a little rock house
that they could sleep and burrow under
like Jon and herself, snuggled in Maine,
away from Palo Alto. So every time I come over,
to have *** and eat dinner and listen
to what you learned to play on piano,
I stop by the study to see Maurice
and Mickey and feel the presence of Jonathan
and the sticky suburban sadness of your mother,
while keeping a secret promise close to my heart,
that I'll never become an accountant.
Dec 5, 2014
Dec 5, 2014 at 6:54 PM UTC
I thought I could conform,
wanting to become part of the pack.
I dressed differently;
closed my mouth more.
I tried to be less caring yet more selfless
hoping to become more desirable.
It didn't work.
I wore black.
I abstained from interests in favor of theirs.
I slept only with candles for warmth
and bathed in ice water.
I froze.
I laughed at the idiocies protruded from their mouths,
trying to fit in, but stay me.
I was brainwashed.
I ate kosher for a year and a day.
I drank tea to bleach me inside.
I prayed to Mother Earth and Father Sky for strength as the moon waxed,
but was weakened when they turned away my heart at Witching Hour,
and thought I would die from the cold.
I did what I thought was good,
thinking blending wasn't a bad idea.
But still deep inside me is the need to know:
was adapting always like this?
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 9:51 AM UTC
The calm was worn out of her.
For decades, jesus **** ---tens… of … fucking...years,
She had abstained, held back, postponed and missed out.
Somehow she had become the Mother Theresa of kind gestures,
The one who helped
And healed
And hovered
And hoped,
Oh god how she had hoped,
Until standing in front of the mirror
In Bloomingdale’s basement,
Her lips chapped and her mouth parched,
In some obscene sort of spiritual dehydration,
A pre- catatonia,
And sensing the up swell of a hurricane of self-hatred,
So overwhelming
That it numbed her fingers and made her nose itch,
In this instant she could not tell
Which side of the mirror she was on.
Was she looking at herself or was she the reflection of herself.
In this messiah moment,
When a massively disinterested sales clerk asked her
If she had found what she was looking for,
In this exchange with a stranger with a name tag on,
Her life stopped.
And for the first time ever she responded, yes I think I have.
So she bought the dress which showed way too much cleavage,
Wore it out of the store and into an uptown bar,
Where she surveyed the 5 o’clock crowd,
Found the face of a man she had never seen before
And walked up to this stranger in a suit
And offered to buy him a drink.
He accepted, Jesus was it really that easy.
They exchanged maybe twenty words,
She knew exactly what she wanted,
And she shivered twice,
At the end of a dark corridor,
Bent over a cold aluminum beer keg,
A fistful of her hair in his hands,
Her ******* wrapped round one ankle,
The dress now a sash about her waist.
And so her secret life began.
She didn't tell her husband,
Or her priest,
She took a part time gig
At a massage parlour with the happiest of endings,
And she felt powerful and a little insane.
Sitting at Sunday dinner, smiling and engaged,
She wondered if she was a sociopath, a closet ******
How could deception and promiscuity
Bring her happiness,
Where honour and fealty had failed.
She worried about others finding out,
It would destroy her life if they did,
Disgrace was a terminal disease at her stage,
Her heart would panic each time she entered the salon,
Each time she had to parade nearly naked,
In front of a new client,
The moment before she entered the room,
Would she know the man on the other side of that door,
Was the risk worth it.
Time after time she decided it was.
Jul 9, 2016
Jul 9, 2016 at 5:41 PM UTC
Got a word stuck behind your tongue
a sentence chippin' at your tooth
and I'm sitting here wonderin' what you have to lose
we're suffocating on
fruition stuck to pause
jaw grittin', head-splitting, complicating it until we rot
I wonder where you're at
perhaps you wonder too
I've learned the hard way that what ya say isn't always true
so suffocate me good
stuff it under things you should
and I'll be here
mere sightseer
collecting glass and driftwood
the ocean swells inside
a storm you cannot hide
we stand at command
desperate to find our pride
is it so crucial?
to feel important and useful?
what makes you tick? what makes you sick?
Does it matter if we remain truthful?
There is loss and gain
my indulgence abstained
I hope you look at me
and finally come to see
I'm more than flesh and vein
Aug 4, 2018
Aug 4, 2018 at 11:52 PM UTC
The essential creature comforts
must be abstained from
in this bland
bleak
ball point tapping
room.
Only for long enough
to listen
and leave.
Granted regularly
some brief reprieve.
Fulfilling deadly habits
the streets filled
curbs run rampant
with wickeder habits
than mine.
To solitude
I'll resign.
What words
describe my presence
an inability to
define.
Feb 11, 2013
Feb 11, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
Once again
a visitor
rises amongst
our shady
lea, a
wayfarer sprung
from a
ceaseless throng:
now accustom
him, ye
maiden with
unborn young.
One so
calm as
to hum
some rosy
melody, whose
uncorrupted harmony
secretly goes
in thru
the eclipsed
valley, which
may not
with it's
abstained motion
befit, but
meditating inertly,
he summons
your sympathy,
so adored,
to reply
kindly to
his
drunken fit.
And when
thy beam
arising
"softly lit"
in pallid
outline,
(for the dawn's coming in celerity,)
the stranger
shall sleep
upon hearing
your rhyme,
choosing a
thorny bed
to rest
his head
with aimless
temerity.
You see,
we receive
them as
our guests
for but
one hour
-no more, no less-
and only
in the
month of
May,
then tug
at their
ears and
hit them
on their
heads,
and send
them on
their way!
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
With light strokes of my pen,
I will draw us racing towards an unknown
side by side
not knowing when or how to intersect.
Stripes across the page exist over a name
I've held so close to my heart
but abstained from using on my lips
where silence reigns.
Between lines, poetry lay burning
ashes of stories I stayed awake at night recounting
a rejected part of my humanity
that I cannot forget
that I will never forget.
October has left me with blood on my hands,
and wilted flowers in my hair
but I am a wound trying to heal
the stripes on my skin mark growth
life will emerge in the face of cold winter air
life will radiate like northern lights
gleaming like the energy of all souls combined
against a wall of star encrusted darkness.
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
Talk is cheap
Money talks
Show it to me
And let me buy the lies at half price
The movement was passed
All objections were sustained
I was the only who abstained
But the motion was carried
Commotion in the streets
Protesters lying on the trail tracks waiting for the locomotive to come
Mistrial!
The tabloid business was in the black
The humanity department was in the red
And the guilty were in the clear
Even though the truth was out in the open
Behind closed doors the politicians, the judges and the lawyers shook hands and smile sipping on nefarious brandy
And now a murderer, a thief and a certified maniac are free to walk among us all and an innocent person who was at the wrong place at the wrong time is being put to death
Someone doesn't know how to add or subtract because the calculations of this case do not make sense
Or maybe it was planned by tactile suit and tie tyrants of law
Docile, dishonest
Yet, reputable
Coaxing in the courtroom
Dogs released on the rioting citizens outside
The rest of the jury's heads in the clouds
When a guiltless human being is facing the final curtain
The scandal is apparent because the judge has been know to enjoy ******* and young ******** clad women
On the surface I do not look like I've been driven up the wall
But I now fear of never waking up
The horror of unrest
I want to detach myself from this thing
These men jag their names into the wall of shame at the stag party
And allow three evil men go free and an unlucky man meet his end
I wish it wasn't all so technical
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 5:47 PM UTC
death by cute boys
yup, you read me right
seeing such sweet smiles
finally did me in last night
my little old heart can't take it
i know they will steal my little old heart
and one day they will break it
death by cute boys
i won't be coy
they do give me immense joy
i don't purport to understand boys
but i know enough to know
all they do is destroy
death by cute boys
'the thing you love
will one day take you-'
that may be true, but
i can't help it if
their love makes me feel brand new
you might say,
"if you know your kryptonite
then avoid it
if you know you've got a weapon
then deploy it"
i tried so hard, honest i did
i abstained from affection
held off as long as i could
meditated on my faults
came to peace with my weakness
found there was nothing i could do
i can't not have them
they can't not hurt me
i am in agony constantly
but this is my fate, you see
death by cute boys, though
there are worse ways to go-
now i lay me down to sleep
they lay roses
by my feet, across my chilly chest
but one will know
it is lilacs i love the best
that one is why i let them
put my heart to the test
the waiting is the hardest part
i will die a thousand little deaths
deaths by cute boys
before one comes to give me life
it's the price that i pay
but trust me
i wouldn't have it any other way
Aug 30, 2017
Aug 30, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
The morning exploded in a vast array of color and light
And the screams of geese ******** on the walkway to my apartment
I got a full nights sleep and
Last night I even abstained from quenching my thirst
Yet I still awoke with my senses beating me
Half to death
May 16, 2013
May 16, 2013 at 1:51 PM UTC
Under breath
it was a fleeting
vocalization never
reaching purpose.
Apr 2, 2016
Apr 2, 2016 at 10:19 AM UTC