"adjourn" poems
A hippodrome as smoke adjourn
those can wrap Havanas blunt
while Manila fish for sordino
they reek of harvest yet exhume Moro
then San Mateo shall not a maraschino bane
whether they've sought bastion in Italy then
once their hopes shall keep ships ahoy
and Sabatini sing San Marino here
that sandcastle star await his lover in
"The Sea Hawk" a fine costume whence sail
those Antilles with a conquistador as buttress
in this play they call Those Philippines alas meet
El Duarte in a duet with his song set aflame with
great sleeves in such kleptocracy worldwide again.
Mar 24, 2017
Mar 24, 2017 at 8:35 AM UTC
Must we apply Glue on the Negative
When the Photo was meant to bring Good Thoughts?
She was with you; And on the Positive
Her Smile was the Change she had long since brought
It wasn't much to sulk on Uncle Gus
When many Witnesses saw you on Ice
Her Face also appeared; In excitement, must
Try to fit her Visiting Heart for size
How did I know this? With all Windows displayed
And most Unregistered Tributes recorded
My Laughter sincere; And Monsters dismayed
That no Finger can keep you Separated.
Indeed, my Elder Instinct will adjourn
The Sober Similes I must re-learn.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 12:03 AM UTC
1485
Love is done when Love’s begun,
Sages say,
But have Sages known?
Truth adjourn your Boon
Without Day.
3.4k
Pretty boy, singing your pretty words:
pouring liquid symphonies into my ear,
knowing exactly what I want to hear.
Stolen words, from a romance guide;
pried from the heart of your previous lover,
and some two, three, four or maybe five girls other.
Cooing sweet nothings in your honey voice.
It is not enough, a mating ritual parade,
because I’ve been there before and I know your charade.
Don’t you understand? - what you did to me.
Demon possessed or a facade dropped,
the memory: the pain, the anxiety, the shock.
What you want is untouched, an untampered babe.
Yet again, you devote your concert to me,
but I don’t want it and you don’t really want me.
I am stitched back together, corrupt by your hand.
Your photocopied scars adjourn my skin,
but the ink seeped deeper, obscuring your sin.
And you’ll never understand, what you did to me:
because you’re still a pretty boy, with your pretty words
and I'll deal with the trauma, my story unheard.
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
When I was born,
From all the seas of strength Fate filled a chalice,
Saying, This be thy portion, child; this chalice,
Less than a lily's, thou shalt daily draw
From my great arteries; nor less, nor more.
All substances the cunning chemist Time
Melts down into that liquor of my life,
Friends, foes, joys, fortunes, beauty, and disgust,
And whether I am angry or content,
Indebted or insulted, loved or hurt,
All he distils into sidereal wine,
And brims my little cup; heedless, alas!
Of all he sheds how little it will hold,
How much runs over on the desert sands.
If a new muse draw me with splendid ray,
And I uplift myself into her heaven,
The needs of the first sight absorb my blood,
And all the following hours of the day
Drag a ridiculous age.
To-day, when friends approach, and every hour
Brings book or starbright scroll of genius,
The tiny cup will hold not a bead more,
And all the costly liquor runs to waste,
Nor gives the jealous time one diamond drop
So to be husbanded for poorer days.
Why need I volumes, if one word suffice?
Why need I galleries, when a pupil's draught
After the master's sketch, fills and o'erfills
My apprehension? Why should I roam,
Who cannot circumnavigate the sea
Of thoughts and things at home, but still adjourn
The nearest matters to another moon?
Why see new men
Who have not understood the old?
1.9k
Sara L Russell 29th August 2016
Time to retire now, ladies,
the drawing room awaits
as the gentlemen go to smoke
and drink brandy
or tell ribald stories
unsuitable for a lady's delicate ears.
Time to work on our embroidery
or retire to bed.
The men shall retire whenever they wish,
and the stars are too many for us to count.
Now we must lie abed
dreaming of Mr. Darcy
or perhaps a future career,
If only one's gender
might permit such a thing.
Time to adjourn now, ladies,
Mrs. Pankhurst has said her piece
and the rozzers are coming
to break up our meeting of like minds.
I heard that she was in prison for a time,
and went on hunger strike!
oh yes, my dear,
I heard they beat her,
force-fed her
then left her to cry alone in her cell.
Only she didn't cry. She never cries.
They say one day we women
will be able to vote!
Yes, of course it could happen.
We deserve it, after all.
Time to adjourn now, people,
it's been a long session
and even ministers need a lunch break.
Mrs. Thatcher no doubt will carry on
making notes for yet another meeting,
I don't think that woman ever sleeps.
Even if she never does,
she has razor-sharp concentration
and a sharper mind.
You don't want to get
on the wrong side of that one.
Funny, years ago,
they never dreamed we'd have
a woman Prime Minister.
Not everyone agrees with her
yet few dare to disagree.
Time to retire now, ladies.
The men have important things
to discuss, too serious for our lowly ears.
Theirs is the sun and the daylight;
ours are the shadows that herald the dusk.
Gather your prayer beads
and lower your gaze.
Do not look into the eyes
of the Imam as you pass by
on the way to your rooms.
Do not let any breeze from the window
displace your veil.
Guard your modesty
at all times;
protect your respectability,
for it is all you have in the world.
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC
1661
Guest am I to have
Light my northern room
Why to cordiality so averse to come
Other friends adjourn
Other bonds decay
Why avoid so narrowly
My fidelity—
1.6k
Its Tuesday,
You turn off your movie,
Ready to get to bed.
You wonder what time it way be,
And suddenly, you regret your movie watching spree.
Five minutes to midnight.
You panic,
Remembering that gigantic,
Test you have the next morning.
You scramble to put your laptop away,
Trying not to crumble your essay,
Into your book bag with the rest of your school things.
You lie under your cover,
Only to discover,
It is 4 minutes till midnight.
You close your eyes,
Only seeing the lies,
You told about going to sleep hours before.
You toss and turn.
Realizing you may never be able to adjourn,
You movie night brain.
Your eyes wonder off,
What they see makes you cough.
3 more minutes till midnight.
You gasp,
Just wishing you would just clasp,
a sweet visit to dream land.
You then hear the loud thunder,
And start to wonder. . .
Is it giants?
Stomping angrily from the heavens?
Or dancing with glee in groups of sevens?
And then, as you think,
You suddenly need a drink!
You get out bed,
accidentally hitting your head!
You grab a drink from the kitchen,
Scooping up your kitten,
As you go back upstairs.
You spot the clock,
You feel as if you need to knock,
on wood as it is
1 minute to midnight.
You crawl back into bed,
listening to you kittens purring,
You feel the fur ball stirring,
trying to get comfortable.
The giants above quieting down,
You see no reason to frown.
You close your eyes,
and take a deep breath.
You did not get a visit from death,
But you did get to sleep,
Just as your clock hit,
Midnight.
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 10:23 PM UTC
There is a man who thinks he's in charge,
he's strong, dumb and very large.
Twenty foot tall and that's a fact,
twenty and a half to be exact.
He can crush you with his bare hands,
you better obey his list of demands.
Not the devil, not a god,
just a huge man who's very odd.
Not a monster, not a myth,
just a man you can't mess with.
Stomps on people just for fun,
chaos for him has just begun.
He can **** you with his mighty fist,
its the third demand on his list.
Can't speak a word only grunts,
eats babies and smokes big blunts.
If he kicks, you will land a mile away,
his nasty teeth are filled with decay.
Getting shot just makes him mad,
will not stop killing til he finds his deadbeat dad.
His demand list has only five things,
you must call him the king of kings.
He has a name, please call him Rick,
or he'll slap you with his seven foot ****
You already know number three,
he'll punch you if you don't agree.
You don't wanna know number four,
but trust me it will lead to gore.
Killing his father is number five,
keep out of his way, if you wanna stay alive.
Five is as high that he can count,
his dads head he wants to mount.
Giving birth killed his poor mom,
her body exploded like a bomb.
He's only twenty, grew one foot a year,
not even old enough to drink a beer.
Found his dad and ripped off his head,
he actually smiled after the father was dead.
Rick became a very nice guy,
now he is friendly and very shy.
Rick died when he was thirty,
at the wake, Weird Al sang White And Nerdy.
His ashes are in a six foot urn,
this sad story will now adjourn.
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 1:16 AM UTC
Decoupled from my conscience of subjective discernment
The necessity for personal authority over impulse
Vs an instantly gratifying road to distraction
Journey of wilful blindness
Consequential destination deferred
But upon arrival lies the choices
To decouple, To adjourn
Or to confront the demons towards which my back I have turned
Self-romanticised truths to whom before I have spoken
Yet despite a colourful history our personal promises lay broken
Under the rug
Etched into the bottom of a bottle
A chasing of tails
Ignorance long forgotten
A cycle indeed
But of downward trajectory
Gratefully, the bottom of which yet to be met by me
But somehow graced by others
With stronger character than I
A slippery slope
An exponential decent
Over which I now maintain a watchful eye
Jan 16, 2022
Jan 16, 2022 at 3:28 PM UTC
The normal way of life is such:
the old give way to young.
To understand does not take much,
explained in simple tongue:
Adults that love do procreate.
Their selves they form and replicate,
continuing the song which they have sung.
The first into the world are first
to leave the world behind.
They dry and shrivel in their thirst,
are ground to dust and rind.
They find their solace in their spawn,
inside whose flesh they carry on
their signatures, in place of their old mind.
The next await their counted turn,
with shovel at the hand;
enjoy the lives which must adjourn
into the unseen land.
Then find a mate to spawn their own,
before their own flesh from the bone
departs into the dryness of the sand.
Yet once upon a blood red moon,
the normalcy defers.
The next in line depart too soon,
in snares of life's dark lures.
The first must intern on the shelves
of crypts the flesh that holds their selves,
and taste what to the next this life confers.
(C)2014, Christos Rigakos
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
His life with her has been a struggle, things aren't the same anymore no time to cuddle.
Their relationship was a disaster following the aftermath, nothing could be fix that was left on their path.
Who's was at fault no one to blame or charge, however as they see it their love was demolish by and large.
Her accusation and jealousy was pushed on him with remarkable strength, this dilemma carried on to an unbelievable length.
Their hearts and mind exhausted and both were hurt, it seems they've gone to far and can't revert.
There was nothing the both can do; no gratification, this can not go on; their need for help was sought with desperation.
A love they shared with hate for one another on what grounds, people wouldn't listen they just turn around.
Lost and nowhere to turn; isolated from one another with eyes of tears, with two bleeding hearts pierced with a couple of spears.
Difficult to cling on to each other with time and space, not knowing that their relationship was a total disgrace.
Deep inside the ember of love glowing keeping them alive, hoping and praying their love will revive.
Not allowing her love to surface while grasping on to her superbia, taking his breath away with signs claustrophobia.
Struggling with little or no effort to makeup, with concerns of the inevitable of another breakup.
A love with no compassion only sorrow, a postponement until tomorrow.
As for now this relationship is adjourn, perhaps this love of their as gone to the point of no return.
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 4:12 AM UTC
As it seems to be,
The days connect
In make believe.
The summer’s eve
Won’t sing to me
And as we sigh,
So foolishly,
We’ll feel regret
For everything.
For nothing ever
Truly ends.
No letters written
Ever send.
Our words will lurch
At every turn,
In hopes to reach,
Or to return,
To whom it always
did concern.
A love you’d always
dreamt to earn.
A whisper fated
- To adjourn.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 9:57 AM UTC
Hang the folk-singer in a straight-jacket.
Let him out to entertain the pained,
and to allow him his vanity
of seeing one thousand t-shirted candles
echo back to him, his own face.
Let him board the train to nowhere-town.
Give him time to walk a recovery,
to indulge in a sorrow
that was too often left ignored.
He'll come back with a black eye,
cradle and all.
Kiss your divorce on the mouth, as you
filter his coffee. You're coming out of
your shell, and out of the house,
you're meeting for coffee again,
in the sun-glass shade
of the afternoon.
Hang your clothes out to dry by the river.
Let yourself have a hayfever bout
in the grass. Allow your new freedoms
from the tyrant, that had long kept you
anchored in the past.
Jun 18, 2014
Jun 18, 2014 at 9:52 PM UTC
Seemingly precise yet akimbo
Inflected glares bend windows
Directly begin kin in skin
We sin again.
Yours is mine redefined
More blessed so unaligned.
Sight delight our kindled spite
Adjourn loops and dash hopes
Love longs its wrong devotes.
A myriad making way
Unelectric secrete display
Rolling sheets tumbling say
Let fluid fly demon's prey.
Loping along
Coping strong
Moaning songs
Rejoicing our way
The way to Much.
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 7:29 PM UTC
To Whom it May Concern,
My blood begins to burn
and I’m compelled to spurn
the current plans to turn
our mascot to a worm.
The members from my firm
cannot stay taciturn
when our alumni learn
that strangers overturned
the past we had governed
because they’re all stubborn,
seeking to be modern
and spread, exploit and churn
their folly and their germs.
I urge you to discern
the consequence you’ll earn
unless you can confirm
our legacy long-term.
We will not adjourn
until it’s reaffirmed
that history is stern
and keeps our old pattern.
If you do not concur
and submit to our terms,
then surely you will yearn
for courtesy interns
as funding will downturn
and we will watch you squirm
like spiders in an urn
at the point of no return.
Sincerely, Dr. Kern
Jan 11, 2020
Jan 11, 2020 at 12:37 PM UTC
Once affirmation became deformation
aspirations turned into desperation
aspirations turned into exasperation
existence undocumented persistence expired
acumen undocumented the pittance expired
normal life forms a life
but nightmare world lights the world
dream journals adjourn dreams
through fantastic fantasies
of affirmation and affinity
or affirmation reaching infinity
so affirmation is gained at the expense of others
and affirmation is what we expect from others
but the affirmation comes at the cost of the abdication
of a firm nation inducing affirmation
selling being right
who's wrong is who's left
behind the hugfest in social unrest
the hugs infect becoming a test
to affirm what others choose
affirmation signaling their virtues
and if one doesn't affirm they'll sit and burn
which will affirm affirmation.
Please tell me I'm right.
Oct 8, 2022
Oct 8, 2022 at 10:02 PM UTC
He sit by the door day after day
Waiting for her to return
Ready to play he'd patiently wait
'Til time for school to adjourn
A child and her dog, bonded in life
He became this little girl's friend
Raised from a puppy, he slept on her bed
Together, until the end
Walking home from school one day
She tripped on the sidewalk and fell
Rushed to the hospital, the little girl died
When her brain continued to swell
She didn't come home, he didn't understand
It was time to play their game
They tried to call him away from the door
But every day was the same
He'd sit by the door day after day
Waiting for her to return
Ready to play he'd patiently wait
'Til time for school to adjourn
Apr 4, 2011
Apr 4, 2011 at 9:30 AM UTC
Still Waters Run deep,
They never move.
I just want to tap into that pool,
And I just want to say,
How do you feel today?
So I can walk away,
From this whirl.
And wash away unhappiness too.
So how do you feel today?
I fail to see,
As now to adjourn.
A correction of the heart,
From these words to full stops.
In spirit we can sit here,
Just let the clouds drop all my tears.
Still Waters Run deep,
They never move.
Some how I just can't sleep,
And how do you feel today?
It's all I can say,
Still waters run deep.
A correction of the heart,
May it slowly play it's part.
In spirit we sit here,
Just let the clouds ,
Drop our tears.
So many years,
So many tears,
So many fears,
I will always be that whisper in your ears.
Still Waters Run deep,
They never move.
I just want to jump in that pool.
And I would like to say,
Like how do you feel today?
Still rivers run deep,
Forever come what May!
So here me out,
All feels calm and still,
If you are pleased for us to keep,
Still Waters Run deep.
O'Reily15122018
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 9:32 PM UTC
I'm laying here trying to heal
Wishing so bad...you were here
Holding me close
Stroking my hair, holding me near.
I understand why
Things have to be
It doesn't stop the longing
To have you here with me
Just to look into your eyes
And feel your warm embrace
The touch of your skin on mine
The warmth and love in your face
I feel as if I am running out of time
And I don't want that day to come
Without knowing what it's like
To finally be at home
In the arms of someone who loves me
That I can freely love in return
To share the last of my sunsets
Until our lives adjourn.
March 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016
Mar 14, 2016 at 10:36 PM UTC
Hello, hello.
Yes. The committee meeting has started
Can we please review the minutes from last time
Right moving forward
First item on the agenda:
There are too many flavors of ice cream
How are we supposed to choose
When there are so many flavors
I move to second that opinion
Third
Right, there from now on be only two flavors
Chocolate and vanilla
But don’t you think there might be a need for strawberry?
But that is too many flavors, remember there are too many
Ah yes, but can’t we incorporate one more?
Ok, I move to propose three ice cream flavors and no more
I second
Third
Second and final item on the agenda:
Ice cream is too cold
How can we eat ice cream
Quickly, when it is so cold
There shall only be warm ice cream from now on
I second that opinion
Third
Right, from now on there will only be warm ice cream
The committee thanks you for attending.
If that is it, we will adjourn.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC
Alone I wander midnight pathways that never lead to sleep,
This darkness highlights all I fear, and secrets it can keep,
In the distance I can hear the past, perhaps a quiet weep,
A chill has settled over me, into my bones to seep,
Was it I that gave this weep,
This weep that steals my sleep,
My need to sleep.
The fire’s death from licking flames, still glowing embers burn,
I know a sleep is needed, but from this wake I can’t adjourn
Then a single scratch upon my door, as the handle clicks a turn,
I’m frozen still, like winters pond, as my innards twist to churn,
My gaze I cannot turn,
This fear becomes a burn,
My need to run
A shadow glides in slowly, draped in robe with hooded face,
A scent I half remember, seems to engulf this evil wraith,
My guest floats ever closer and my heart picks up its pace,
Its rotting hand is reaching, I must evade its cold embrace,
I’ve no desire to see this face
For fear I can’t erase,
Erase this face,
This creature leans in closer as I taste its putrid smell,
Once again a scent familiar, but from whence, I cannot tell,
From deep within my stomach a fear filled bile begins to swell,
It whispers “I’m memories of your past loves, here to take you back to hell.”
The cast of nightmares spell
Thoughts I dare not tell
Now fresh from hell
Nov 9, 2017
Nov 9, 2017 at 10:39 AM UTC
What wasted days we share
the hours we breathe like air
they float away
and bleed the day
Though we have no need to care
Our time is fuel to burn
our bonfires never adjourn
although they may
turn night to day
night cannot be had out of turn
Footsteps are laid to be traced
to follow at memories pace
but to me, aren't there
if there are not two pair
wasted days, without you, are a waste
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 12:08 PM UTC
Flesh of a lonely man
Needs make up
Wreaths on this list coming
Crossing out and ticking the boxes
We’re still holding the dust of souls
And ashen glances look like desultory glances
****** on the nursed streets
The streetlit howling winds can fly out of educated lives
We are only left educated minds changing their ways and stealing cigarettes
Feigining for the father figure
I hope we have had a good time
The night’s brighter with the vivid growth of the undernelly
Knell bells tolling, killing the bleeding
Sojourn the dress, and adjourn th court
Red crimson tresses sense the mallet of sentences marking forever
Those worst worshipping travelers of trafficking
Altruist, my forefathers are looking at us like it’s now or never
The darkeness is inevitable, but, the tunnel runs out with indomitable spirit stealing glances from the Gods of religions so decrepit
I had my luck in my pocket from these corrupt politicians, and reiterated that I’d run and reign and then run
Like the apoplectic season of the monsoons, teaming up either way
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 7:41 PM UTC