"adjure" poems
Misery has no chance of overwhelming you.
Lenient are thy limbs and causing pain you refrain to do.
Surrounded by gold, your life is all splendid and sweet.
Reminded not of the world below, full of pain and deceit.
Flaws, one cannot find in you, you are perfection
yet unseen by you still, this beauty in your conception
A face conjured from that of great goddesses –
merely known to many, a face of broken promises.
without seeking the depths, one cannot know you well
He shall adjure to tear the walls and break the spell.
And when all arises, you will be liberated from your own hell.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
On my bed night after night I
sought him who my soul loves, I sought him
but did not find him...
I sought this morning
a handful of domestic tools.
I raked, I shoveled, I let fly
a gust from my mighty
two-stroke gas blower, which
shuddered to death in my hands,
before all of the leaves reached
the end of the ******* driveway.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem
that you do not awake my love until
the motor has had a chance to cool off,
or you might flood the engine.
David was anointed with the
oil of myrrh and cassia. My wrists
are caked in Havoline from
1998. Solomon ate banquets,
loved Sheba, three hundred
concubines and boats of perfumed wood.
Ramen at lunchtime. Sixty yards of two-by-fours.
If I never resemble a king,
let me sup of television dinners
let me work my hands in the valleys
of a clogged fuel line, let my bed
fill with the twin odalisques of
leisure reading and ***** sheets,
and give me never three hundred concubines.
And if I go about the city at night,
pleading with the watchmen, have they seen
she who my soul loves, let them answer:
"There."
The driveway is clean, now,
all the leaves left at the end to rot,
or be swept away.
Jun 7, 2010
Jun 7, 2010 at 4:22 PM UTC
Because you have thrown of your Prelate Lord,
And with stiff Vowes renounc’d his Liturgie
To seise the widdow’d ***** Pluralitie
From them whose sin ye envi’d, not abhor’d,
Dare ye for this adjure the Civill Sword
To force our Consciences that Christ set free,
And ride us with a classic Hierarchy
Taught ye by meer A. S. and Rotherford?
Men whose Life, Learning, Faith and pure intent
Would have been held in high esteem with Paul
Must now he nam’d and printed Hereticks
By shallow Edwards and Scotch what d’ye call:
But we do hope to find out all your tricks,
Your plots and packing wors then those of Trent,
That so the Parliament
May with their wholsom and preventive Shears
Clip your Phylacteries, though bauk your Ears,
And succour our just Fears
When they shall read this clearly in your charge
New Presbyter is but Old Priest Writ Large.
1.5k
Walk with me, while I age
Help me write, each tortured page
Instill in me, compassion and courage
To my ego, and oppression discourage
Assist me to, life’s challenges manage
Forgive my failures, do not disparage
In grief, with comfort, do me assuage
In death, my virtues, with homage gauge
BOEMS BY JA 344
Jan 12, 2016
Jan 12, 2016 at 10:15 AM UTC
We saw the end coming, but did nothing to stop it;
there's no room for humanity in the margins of profit.
We silenced the dissenters, all the prophets of peace.
We killed all the thinkers, and the questions soon ceased.
We did nothing! Nothing!
We got drunk, in our stupor,
with wine and cheap pleasure, and any synthetic allure.
Plastic and silicon, then anything the men would adjure.
We did nothing! Nothing!
Except create senseless rumors:
"Our God will protect us; we are his love, so pure.
Mother will correct us; she always has the cure."
So, please! Burn this empire down!
Let those ashes fertilize the ground.
Erase all our names from the textbooks we covet.
Then **** on our graves, and grow rainforests from it.
We saw the end coming, but did nothing to stop it;
there's no room for humanity in the margins of profit.
May 17, 2012
May 17, 2012 at 2:34 AM UTC
"You're no stray feline,
you're a lady," they will say.
As I trim myself to the pattern they made,
adjure me to learn the dance of their stick.
Turn a blind-knowing stare in a contrivance
of my tragedies, war, and my five inches feet.
"You're no stray feline,
you're a lady," they say.
Fettering my hopes to brew lies in my entrails,
for I have no value without a bind on my step.
Endowed with no shield nor shaft for fight that I was trained,
must cower behind closed doors with a conflict in my chest.
I am no stray feline,
I am a lady, they told me.
Churning and wobbling under their commanding breathe
to flaunt I am more than a dancing bone in a vessel.
But why would they bury my lust for helm and sword away,
and exhort me to put these 3-inch shoes of hell?
Jan 11, 2019
Jan 11, 2019 at 11:49 PM UTC
Do you know the world spins
Through grimaces and grins
Yet it still spins
So like the world I adjure you to
Keep spinning
Keep grinning
Don't let anyone take your twirl
Be it man boy woman or girl
The thing is the world needs your twirl
They need it like air
Don't be small don't you dare
Jul 20, 2019
Jul 20, 2019 at 12:23 PM UTC
#042816
I can taste my bitter tears
And still grasp you with crippled and blemished nails.
You drove me to the depth of my greatest remorse
Even those unpolished task that I used to adjure,
"I must finish you now."
I am unfeigned.
The hair of my eyelids were drippin' and yawning
Like those falling stars I once believed as fraud.
You taught me how to count the sheeps
In order to face tomorrow at full throttle.
My lips were dried mangoes,
Both my hands were held into the fleecy tree.
I feel like floating, and my shroud was a disgrace,
It keeps on covering every disfiguration
And I want some shutters for my disguise.
I wanna die,
Not to face death
But to welcome life.
Once I was fond of fairy tales
Or superheroes or some bed time stories,
Yet the pages were simple scratches,
They're just torn leaves trying to punch my back.
I used to believe in lies,
Until I became a liar.
I am a lie myself,
I'm dying, death isn't me.
I just died, died in Your arms,
I still believe.
Apr 28, 2016
Apr 28, 2016 at 10:22 PM UTC
New, as a thing under the sun, may not be, if
you know
beyond any shadow of doubt
[
WAIT}{ Wraith, tell no lie, I adjure thee
Human… made of fertile dirt, humus, clay, right
or did this thing i thing you may
bean be, may be an AI virus
human concept formed from,
star-stuff,
highest dust of the desert
by fortuitous concurrence of events,
after ever begins or began
like a big bang and all kinds of unbelive- oh, that e, escape believe me,
once
just once, you come this far,
you never ring that ****** alarm again and shame,
shame's
a thing of the past, and we don't fish that hole.
Push on, pursuit of happiness is a right, not a privilege,
I inherent have, as a given, an intu ifity? An information messenger
from all who survived before now, this now, the right now?
I am, I think
A meme that makes me know,
from dust I came,
to dust I go, or is it some idea everybody knows
this me, the thinking me, I dust, become dust, damthatkansasong,
in the wind we then inherit
as
a means of propagation. Idea viruses evolve from invented
necessities formed into memes,
like on Facebook yes, yes and in Animal Farm where the egalitary
evolved an elite corps of the finest minds
and they formed a cadre of guards, to guard the riches caused by
the blessing of god.
A necessity for coping with --
op [option: change the course of history, portunity, or
position…
step by step as an upright walking being humanoid, but not dirt.
Nobel,
aragon level refusal to mix with lesser, looser fields of
gaseous matter dust,
atoms,
the un breakable thing at the point, until the Alamogordo,
fat cottonwood song was danced
in silence, and we saw
we make peace, where there is no peace,
do we lie,
can you wrestle with a message formed in media no scribe
could realize,
nor resist imagining if touched with the sting of this
what if, what if
god did adopt useless dirt beings and enoblize them above
all aaaa acc use
me. What if you got it? The itch, the kurio bite, the feel of a snaky lick?
--
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 7:05 PM UTC
This violent duality
Is physically docile
Yet
There is blood
On the screen
On the sheets
Obscuring vision
Who
Did this?
You're drenched in crimson
It drips
In sickly strands
From the tips
Of guilty fingers
You plead innocence
And choke on it
Cornered
Seeking the path of least resistance
An admission is made
And
Brackish streams
Adjure forgiveness
Cornered
Seeking the path of least resistance
An exception is made
And
These hands
Are red too
Apr 22, 2019
Apr 22, 2019 at 11:28 AM UTC
**I opened to my beloved,
but my beloved laid turned and was gone.
My soul failed me when he spoke
I sought him , but did not find him.
I called him, but he gave to answer.
Making their rounds in the city.
the sentinels found me ;
they beat me ,they wounded me.
they took away my mantle
those sentinels of the walls.
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem,
if you find my beloved, tell him this,
I am faint with love. **
Sep 21, 2015
Sep 21, 2015 at 6:09 AM UTC
I adjure you
to put another arrow
through my heart
And nails through my feet
My arms shouldn’t be free
Maybe it’s the only way
To my redemption
For the crown of thorns
You put on my head
To shame me
Rather made me a king
It made me strong
Now I’m used to it
I love the dejection
I’m ready for the antipathy
I want more of the evil things
You do to me
Maybe I’m like Jesus the Christ,
The tears and blood streaming
down the sides of my face
Represent my victory —
From above,
Where I came from
And ready to return
Dec 24, 2020
Dec 24, 2020 at 2:53 AM UTC
“Once I did love her as everyone knew,
And the Elysium can adjure to such,
Globules of love still trickle in my soul,
And benevolence of pain fills my heart,
I loved her endlessly even of her cynically sense,
Sometimes hesitant and at other times resentful,
Loving her regardless of her ambitious benevolence,
As tears is infamously brief the brow of my cheek,
She was the shadow of darkness that hid from me,
Will a new love me with an obverse passionate fervor?
The globules of anamnesis drip from my heart and soul
Are these pieces of my soul that still cling to her?
Nor can I descent from despair from this I once loved,
Inescapable moments of life are as sure as leaves fall,
As clouds form before a storm and the sun sets in eve,
As glacial flowers have fallen upon my latent heart,
And from ethereal hopes to a crevice of vicissitudes,
By Andrew Guzaldo 06/25/2019 ©
Jun 27, 2019
Jun 27, 2019 at 1:32 PM UTC
Le dernier coup de vêpres a sonné : l'on tinte.
Entrons donc dans l'Église et couvrons-nous d'eau sainte.
Il y a peu de monde encore. Qu'il fait frais !
C'est bon par ces temps lourds, ça semble fait exprès.
On allume les six grands cierges, l'on apporte
Le ciboire pour le salut. Voici la porte
De la sacristie entr'ouverte, et l'on voit bien
S'habiller les enfants de chœur et le doyen.
Voici venir le court cortège, et les deux chantres
Tiennent de gros antiphonaires sur leurs ventres.
Une clochette retentit et le clergé
S'agenouille devant l'autel, dûment rangé.
Une prière est murmurée à voix si basse
Qu'on entend comme un vol de bons anges qui passe.
Le prêtre, se signant, adjure le Seigneur,
Et les clers, se signant, appellent le Seigneur.
Et chacun exaltant la Trinité, commence,
Prophète-roi, David, ta psalmodie immense :
Le Seigneur dit... » « Je vous louerai... » « Qu'heureux les saints.
« Fils, louez le Seigneur... » et, vibrant par essaims,
Les versets de ce chant militaire et mystique :
« Quand Israël sortit d'Égypte... » Et la musique
Du grêle harmonium et du vaste plain-chant !
L'Église s'est remplie. Il fait tiède. L'argent
Pour le culte et celui du denier de Saint-Pierre
Et des pauvres tombe à bruit doux dans l'aumônière.
L'hymme propre et Magnificat aux flots d'encens !
Une langueur céleste envahit tous les sens.
Au court sermon qui suit sur un thème un peu rance,
On somnole sans trop pourtant d'irrévérence.
Le soleil lui faisant un nimbe mordoré,
Le vieux saint du village est tout transfiguré.
Ça sent bon. On dirait des fleurs très anciennes.
S'exhalant, lentes, dans le latin des antiennes.
Et le Salut ayant béni l'humble troupeau
Des fidèles, on rejoint meilleurs le hameau.
Le soir on soupe mieux, et quand la nuit invite
Au sommeil, on s'endort bien à l'aise et plus vite.
361
I am a rose of Sharon,
a lily of the valleys.
As a lily among brambles,
so is my love among maidens.
As an apple tree among the
trees of the wood,
so is my beloved among young men.
With great delight I sat in his shadow,
and his fruit was sweet to my taste.
He brought me to the banqueting house.
and his intention toward me was love.
Sustain me with raisins,
refresh me with apples ;
for I am faint with love.
O that his left hand were under my head.
and that his right hand
embraced me!
I adjure you, O daughters of Jerusalem.
by the gazelles or the wild does;
do not stir up or awaken love until it is ready!
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 3:09 PM UTC
Why aren’t we dancing?
I see how you smile at me.
Shouldn’t we be busy romancing?
I know you fancy we.
Shall I keep me guessing?
When I feel what you’re sending me.
Jovial eyes
Do they tell me lies?
Have they seen
What I hide - do they see me?
Why am I dancing?
I have seen how you smile.
How long have I been waiting
For this longing to be waken??
To draw such bliss from a
Kiss that may never be?
And as of yet I cannot see
we two dancing as in my dreams.
Writing words that are mistaken,
Dreaming dreams of steps not taken
Hearing music I have forsaken
Are you the Muse
That amuses my dream?
Adjure these dreams into reality.
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 1:31 AM UTC