"acquisitive" poems
Little famished people left after they were born
A tiny old place can no longer be their home
Little acquisitive people travel to the cities
Soon their greed seize their courtesy
Little naive people disguise so well.
“Let us add a white shade to our scarlet blood.”
Little grey people complain about the world
A tear or two should ‘justify' their ‘love'
Little learned people fight for human rights
Dazzling crystal goblets clink on every ‘I'
Little erudite people cherish old tombs
But they forget the life spent in the womb
Little fading people live no life
Hence they regret as they retire
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 4:42 PM UTC
.*but i wasn't obviously going to go far down this "worrisome" route for too long, maybe like ten minutes... i had to think of something relaxing to do... i looked in the mirror: **** the wild-man of Essex! beard, shaggy, the neck barely visible... hair like Mozart composing, or as the Poles say: hair like a wkuriony Chopin ****** off Chopin)... **** better do something about it... ah... there's only one thing that can lighten my mood and this whole, tirade... a visit to the local traditional Turkish barbers... so i ****** off... in went the wild-man of Essex... out came well-groomed human being, not a sign of his werewolf past to be seen on him... ah... this is the 4th time, proper, that i visited the barbers (prior to? long hair... after? a shaved head like a Buddhist monk)... god... just sitting there with closed eyes... i'm starting to think that going to the barbers is better than ***
i was never into blocking someone,
esp. if someone is liking your stuff,
but it happened to me with
that poetess on here,
i wanted to know how it feels,
to just randomly block someone
who really enjoys your stuff...
and then... **** gone, never
to be seen again...
Wattpad is basically a fascistic website
to boot this thread of thought...
who the hell gets booted off a platform
for starting a cordial conversation?
- but i really did wake up with
a moral hangover...
excuses?
irritability...
there's just a certain level of
conversation i can take,
i can't get the pedant
out of me... i really can't...
i tried and i tried,
notably because when speaking
to natives, i see them lazily doing this
or that, while i come with an acquisitive
perspective, hence the furthered
acquisitive impetus to further this
acquired language... while the natives
are like: blah... it has been given to them
from birth...
and conversations,
after having completed a...
well for me it was an exhausting poem,
the desire to finish it before off
the rails with the bourbon instigated
a thirst, matched with irritability...
**** i hope i can unblock the guy
and apologize...
spare of the moment thing...
well... if i can't...
i know what it feels like:
not being on the receiving end...
so... that's one plus from all of this.
p.s. that sort of direct messaging language,
aged... 40?
how can i talk to someone
who's older than me, on that level...
(looks up his profile page)...
huh?
so i didn't block him?
*Dennis Willis's profile is not
visible because they have blocked you.*
and i still have the block option
handy...
mind you... i didn't wake up today
recollecting some pretty
trippy ********
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
Finding clutter and cable chaos,
two forms
of proof
for the orderly mind
to insist my approach
to harvesting and preserving my take away, no use
in spirit and
in truth, if you follow my idea, abstracted
from
all the time there ever was here
when we arrived, empty
as far as we knew, with our acquisitive
child recollections, as
to how we come
to think we know, less and less
finer and finer interpretations
of harmony
among Same and Different minds,
allowing odds and evens and pi and e.
-and -i- the I defying form of little I
square root of one.
Left, right, clap.
Chirality, Front and back, top and bottom.
- clapping games of all the ways,
- one hand can clap another.
- Just so we learn,
- we make things take time to do
- just right.
But some times, one impression's all we get.
Think fast.
Six ways to rest upon, Cubism,
arrives first among those who see edges
of blocks in the solid limestone formation,
"O Solon, Solon, you Hellenes are never anything
but children, and there is not an old man among you."
Mar 14, 2023
Mar 14, 2023 at 5:51 PM UTC
The raven was perched upon my window ledge.
Whispering sinful melodies that were only heard by my ear.
I grin, having a silent conversation with the delicate and haunted bird.
Others thought I was crazy!
Saying there was no such thing as a conversation with rodent,
but oh were they wrong!
This maginficent bird stole away my sanity,
his malevolent eyes staring into my soul, ripping it up piece by piece.
But I did not surrender, still spoke to the ruthless bird.
He was my only 'friend', the other kids thought I was mad.
I wasn't mad you see,
just an acquisitive raven who stole away my sanity.
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 11:41 AM UTC
i could have sworn that last night
someone tried to gorge his eyes
out, turning his hands into two crows,
weeping as if something terrible was about
to happen and allowing
his bilingualism for each eye to speak
without the cross-eyed vision of the single tongue
of the crafting of nations in each eye -
then indeed the slavic motherly in the left
and the acquisition of the germanic para-latin
interpretation in the right one
as the crows left the sockets pecked at
with said tongues inserted rhapsodising
about the eye in the mouth looking at two nations
of origins: one the biological, one the psychologically
acquisitive of thus stated usage expressed.
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 11:58 AM UTC
If only I could believe
in anything rather than
everything.
Maybe then I wouldn't always
trust the taste of your
cherry pepper
voice.
Mar 20, 2012
Mar 20, 2012 at 3:50 PM UTC
Crawl on your belly into the garden,
Slip between the ferns
Swallow fallen fruit you found on the earth,
Fatten your girth with what you didn’t earn.
Crawl into his marriage bed,
Break into his children’s home;
Rearrange the furniture,
But it doesn’t make it your own.
You are not his wife.
You are not his lover.
You are the profane, no-name, acquisitive *****
Crawl on your belly into his bed,
Sink your long teeth into his cowardly throat-
Rearrange the furniture,
But it doesn't make it your home.
Dec 19, 2017
Dec 19, 2017 at 5:44 PM UTC
Well of life, oh well of life!!! Spring me thy vibrant blamelessness,
For am I amyss? Wishful to Pius beliefs? That theres a queen, not a thief?
Staring at her screen as me!!!
Consternation in unbelief?
Gathering her end day fears!!!
Shall she pike near?
And hitchike mine hazy distortion?
With our love would be proportion,
No distortionary tyrant to ourn view!!!
Sleeping silently in our room,
Being as just small wombs!!!
Acquisitive and itchy to our next step!!!!
For tis this I have wept,
Thinking over and over,
For wheres thine four leaf clover,
For mine good Irish luck?
Trapped in the ducts of civilation lost?
For what's thy cost old globed ball see'r?
A pound or a ruby?
A million in cash?
Or cheap movie?
For I'd give you mine all to basque in ones appearance,
A PRI maddona I strive in all
Contrivance.....
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 10:29 PM UTC
тьича v. тича, softened consonant, the softening article ь, softening so much, as to acquire an inclusion of an ~я.
in the silence of an Essex night,
when the cars stop drooling sounds
and the foxes seize laughing,
you can hear the neo-Greek words:
тишина... тича тьичa... тишина...
тишина... тьича тьича... тиши'аh
тишина... тьича тича... тишина...
how you dislodge the acquisitive vowels
to the stability of consonants is up to you
and your aesthetic practice, i.e.
concerning the ч... of all human encodings
there's always a sound short, a vibrant
symbol turned into a surd kept for aesthetics
to tell the difference between the literate /
overtly self-assured, and the illiterate /
naive. Дельфин 's (dolphin 's) song, apropos;
some Canadian girls with roots in Russia were
bewildered i knew.
May 25, 2016
May 25, 2016 at 9:05 PM UTC
Yes, I Love for you, but I'm not your fool
You will not have me under acquisitive thumb
Yes, I Love for you, but my feelings are cool
To the melody of my own spirit I'll hum
Yes, I Love for you, but don't be deceived
Chasing an ego is boring
Beneath my false self you didn't perceive
So you stupidly started ignoring
Go on then, pursue the direction of your Heart's bliss
It's righteous, truest course
But if it directs you to other kiss
Don't expect me to feel remorse
Yes, I Love for you, but I'm not your fool
I'm not the puppet on Man's stage
My dying Self you didn't respect at all
Then in spite of your arrogance I rose again as sage
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 9:07 AM UTC
The little things, the little things.
Oh how I love the little things,
One applaud,
Sweeter than an audience of cheers.
A dollar bill, found on the ground,
More joyous than fifty-thousand made in a year.
A simple wave,
Awarded from a stranger,
A tiny smile,
Donated from a neighbor.
The little things, the little things.
A grand reward, for little labor.
Oh how I love to see,
A puppy wagging his tail with glee.
More charming, than visiting a zoo,
Awash with lions, elephants and monkeys.
Or a humble bumble bee,
Making friends with a delicate daisy.
More admirable,
Than a tropical rainforest,
Breathing in a beautiful land,
Such as Papua New Guinea.
The little things, the little things.
Don't you just love the little things?
So cherish the peasant,
Pay no mind to the king.
There's more to this life,
Than diamond rings,
And acquisitive dreams.
-FBS
May 28, 2017
May 28, 2017 at 12:47 PM UTC