"alacrity" poems
You are a sailor
Drift way from the harbor
Pull up the anchor
That binds you down
Set sail towards the horizon
Take off the blindfold
And hoist the sail
Let the wind be your guide
Sun and the Moon your compass
Steering through uncharted waters
Sometimes calm weather
Or, inclement weather, rocking your ship
Tackling the deep waters with alacrity
Unfathomable depths, yet the ship sails
Cutting through the waters
The saline water, which is a part of you
Seagulls guide you towards the shore
Anchoring at the preferred destination
Every grain of sand cushions your feet
Welcoming you to the island of bliss
Cut off from the mainland
Yet, helping you connect with yourself
Now it’s time to unwind
And join the party after a successful voyage
Ready to set sail for another expedition
As a sailor, cruise till the end
© Amitav (Radiance)
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
Sara L Russell 20/1/15 11:32
Windows of opportunity
ways of touching base
teamwork with alacrity
cutting to the chase
jingoist linguistics
speaking business tongues
ladders of loquaciousness
rushing up the rungs
See all the little workmates
running for the bus
trying not to be late
not to cause a fuss
every day frenetic
a speeding metronome
a life too energetic
so glad I work from home.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
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QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
3:38 AM (56 minutes ago)
to Daniel
SOAR OWNERSHIP
/ UTTERANCES OUTLABOURED PILGRIMS/
By the creditor at cyprus and on other grounds:
The counter-cedar Venice much unparalleled ever pursuant kindly indigenous street streams far above strange beneath the string ...' Dream castle before the 'Requiring much quill 'Peanut lieutenant great ones of the machinery citation / Worth pillow following purposes invasion with a rainfall bombardment epistle the pearl earning era: Closet by sessions pursue arithmetician diaries ' anchor calculus cumulative arrows propellant / Squadron in the field-refueling ' division visions ...' Upswing within the meaning axle conversion processes proofs / ' Electron icons ' Creation wireless reticence circles: Moon ship's amnesty crest reckon 'flaskbone SpurZebra...' Preferment goes by relieves and affectionate 'Oil The Self-graduation Outpouring / Vagrant above ant strides : Rodrigo peculiar ends demonstration/ Forego the-Outward acclimation : Upon all civility citizenry civil-rises other low less losses below yonder / Phrase of prose -possessions cuss ion syn chronicutensils 'asylum systems beyond stems : Preeminence blown 'being ht-thence quarries hijack travels history/Wherein of plant hours ' spicily spoke ***** Pilgrimage dilutes noble companies 'ago-maximize promptly alacrity; Exhibition the underrating besought levels- of quarry / burden oxidation immune slaughter
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
474
They put Us far apart—
As separate as Sea
And Her unsown Peninsula—
We signified “These see”—
They took away our Eyes—
They thwarted Us with Guns—
“I see Thee” each responded straight
Through Telegraphic Signs—
With Dungeons—They devised—
But through their thickest skill—
And their opaquest Adamant—
Our Souls saw—just as well—
They summoned Us to die—
With sweet alacrity
We stood upon our stapled feet—
Condemned—but just—to see—
Permission to recant—
Permission to forget—
We turned our backs upon the Sun
For perjury of that—
Not Either—noticed Death—
Of Paradise—aware—
Each other’s Face—was all the Disc
Each other’s setting—saw—
5.5k
forced to ask 'is it all bullshit'
this field of study just completed
this path now flying feet fleet'd
I, alumni all outwardly faux alacrity
but instead really inside shades drawn
hiding shame useless
waiting for the sun's forebearant rays
to pull dead drunk me off floor again
still sick sinning spinning lies
on nodal web patterns
of activation
just a narcissist sociopath-in-training
(was I?) being taught how better
to manipulate other's fate
for personal gain
great fat magnificent magnanimous beast
loafing on liar's chair o'great victory-defeat
doublespeak tho Orwell is long dead and we do mourn him so with eulogy eyes
that weep crocodile tears of
well hidden liars
having long forgotten how to believe
in anything aside from own ill-gotten
gains, they mean nothing more
than bloodstained verses
anemic murmurs
whispered great
whisky hopes
and sallow
cheeked
dreams
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 11:04 AM UTC
Some madness
Helps alleviate
Mind’s burden
From everyday
Travesty
Of the harsh
Illusions of happiness
Insanity
Emboldens the heart
With alacrity
And therein lies
The truth
In the core
Of chaos
Misjudged as
Randomness
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 11:07 PM UTC
Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.
Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.
Please take this as truth
That this is how it is done
If you see someone as enemy
You cease to see a human.
The fact that they are armed
And don’t like who you like
Is enough to create words like
**** **** ****** and ****
Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.
Line up the opposition forces
Against a bullet-riddled wall
And shoot them many times
And see how many will fall.
The ones who do not die
Must be minions of the devil.
They are the enemy, you see.
That’s all. That’s on the level.
Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.
And those people that don’t
Believe in your own form of Jesus,
Like Aerabbs and Jews and such,
Shoot them as much as it pleases.
Because they won’t go to heaven,
And are just heathens anyway
Like them Buddhist dingdongs
Like them ****** lesbians and gays.
Enemy training, one, two three
Is notable for its simplicity.
You just arm yourself thoroughly
And shoot people with alacrity.
And people in foreign countries
Well, you can guess how that goes;
Take a look and easily compare
Canadanians to them from Mexico.
The French are Frogs, Spanish spics.
None as good as us Americans.
And nothing good can come out
Of any **** place that is African.
Don’t worry about being wrong
Or whether an action is right.
That they don’t want you to shoot
Is enough to start the fight.
Now if you find some of this offensive
And if this is revving up your motors,
Just bear in mind, this is what goes on
In the mind of the average voter.
Want to change this, make life better?
Drop your representatives a letter.
Tell them you are on to their villainy
And see them as supporting the REAL enemy.
Aug 18, 2015
Aug 18, 2015 at 8:56 PM UTC
Man becomes woman woman becomes man
headline dictation that makes you understand
but what's this? The scene goes beyond extremes,
the black/white photograph is of color underneath.
But **** me, I'm being erratic. I'm standing on tables
shouting so your disdain's automatic. What's up with
this new fad? Uhmurika never had it this bad. We have
a literal metric ton of whining millennials wanting to be
special snowflakes. Man, who could take all of this social
pressure? Being held accountable for a miserable, literal lack
of knowledge about the world around us? Man, definitely not
for me. But seriously, bro, did you get your **** cut off? What's
up bro, **** you get your **** sewn on? That ******* ***** lacks
a ****** That motha ***** lacks the design that gives him a similar
package when his blood pressure rises. Don't talk to me about feelings
before you've had the operation -- because before you've done that step
it's better if you don't implore my empathy or patience because you're
just not real, I won't feel the weight of your complaints and frustrations.
Matter of fact, for you, ess jay dub, my emotional core's on vacation.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***
Is it this hard to admit to your audience there's something else outside
yourself? I can see how defining the lines with alacrity makes it easier
to breathe the air you breathe to stay alive. It must be nice to stand tall
and be you and not have to bray declarations of self to stay confident
and true to the compass. Walking is all it ever takes you yet when I say,
"Actually [...]" it's enough to make you think it's me getting in your face
with another liberal lecture, but I'm just keeping real straightforward
about which terms I prefer in our vernacular. Shut up, you **** up, we
advocate for your finish, only requiring you fit into our premise.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
Discourse is just not for me.
Leave me alone with your dialogue.
How do you prefer to ***
I just think it's best to have some canned material
in case you need it.
Oct 8, 2015
Oct 8, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC
Acknowledge the drum's whisper.
Yield to its velvet
Nudge. Cut a slow air-
Curve. Then dip (hip to hip):
Sway, swing, pedantically
Poise. Now recover,
Converting the coda
To prelude of sway-swing-
Recover.
Acknowledge
The drum-crack's alacrity -
Acrid exactitude -
Catch it, then slacken,
Then catch as cat catches
Rat. Trace your graph:
Loop, ellipse. Skirt an air-wall
To bend it and break it -
Thus - so -
As the drum speaks!
2.8k
After the devastation came recuperation.
New shoots had sprung with alacrity
enough to establish a presence
in that walled garden,
contained to a strip
barely big enough for date and citrus
to thrive.
The neighbour waited twenty one seasons,
and with each season saw
young shoots
replacing the old.
Imaging a future
where grass might escape the confines
of concrete and sea
neighbour chose to start the mower,
move beyond boundaries,
and mow and mow and mow.
It's been twenty three days now
and still blades whirr
day and night
each hour inducing fresh rubble
to deter shoots, new seeds, hope.
The neighbour will retreat soon,
beyond the wall,
being temporarily satiated
with reek and wreckage,
knowing a day shall arise to return
for the fruits of the land.
Aug 2, 2014
Aug 2, 2014 at 1:30 PM UTC
Listen soldier to the tale of tendor nightingale
Tis a charm that soon will ease your wounds so cruel,
Singing medicine for your pain in a sympathetic strain
with a jug, jug, jug of lemonade or gruel.
Singing bandages and lint; salve and stearate without stint
Singing plenty both of liniment and lotion.
And your mixtures pushes about
And the pills for you served out
With alacrity and promptitute of motion
Singing light and gentle hands, and a nurse who understands
How to manage every sort of application.
From a poultice to leach, whom you haven't got to teach,
The way to make a poppy fomentation.
Singing pillow for you smoothed; smart and anguish smoothed,
By the rediness of feminine invention.
Singing fever thirst allayed, and the bed you've tumbled made
With a cheerful and considerate attention.
Singing succour to the brave and a rescue from the grave,
Hear the nightingale that's come to the crimea.
Tis a nightingale as strong in her heart as in her song,
To carry out so gallant an idea.
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 12:06 AM UTC
*So many dreams that flow
Is bottled in different colored bottles
Each has unique fragrance
You are the perfumer
With in-depth concepts of moods
Every dream a combination
Of special ingredients
- hope, anxiety, happiness
Intense moments of loneliness
In the life’s laboratory
Experimenting with different situations
Your sense of smell
Follows each and every moment
The colored bottles
The different stages of life
Each note of perfume you choose
With much alacrity
The aroma of your dreams
Now spray them
To let the world savor them
Your keen senses
Have concocted uniqueness
Whose aroma lingers*
Nov 22, 2014
Nov 22, 2014 at 8:46 AM UTC
The soft edges of femininity,
Round, ******* complements,
Heels, ***** of the feet, sockets,
Soft eyes, soft hearts, soft hands
Tinkering, thanking, crossing, legs.
Girlhood is enclosed in a silver box
With mute pastels and a heavy soundtrack of strings,
Strings which bifurcate, dissect, divulge,
Horrors, bells, instruments and lush melodies.
Girlhood smells of iron, hot animals, heaving,
Converging, pin ****** the sharp alacrity of Knowing.
Eyes are wet, armpits go black , round edges
Protrude into a potbelly, grow and stagnate,
expand and collapse.
Jul 9, 2021
Jul 9, 2021 at 3:06 PM UTC
Power pulsating between my legs
Irrational intrigue between my ears
Alacrity asunder between my ribs
-Heretical human blender-
Serving up cleverly crafted cocktails
I am
Spouting sureness from between my lips
I am
Stirring in sweet sultriness
Soliciting sour sabotage
Submerging you in salty squeamishness
-Colloquial courtesan, curtly castrating consumers-
Inebriating you equally with inevitable irrationality
Welcome to my "Reader’s Digest"
Prepared especially for you with my psychologically indigestible
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 10:35 AM UTC
ROBBED BY TIME
Once upon a time,
A friend in need at all times,
Time was such my best friend
And so we hopped till the end.
To my castle he'd come,
For he was always welcome
Any time he ever wanted to,
Something my queen loved too.
We'd ramble woodland paths together
As he reeled off one story after another,
All day long having a good time
Till when castle bells could chime.
Time was not of this world,
But a great war lord
Of a very far away land,
King unto the realm of fairy land.
He who had a novelty crown
Bestowed upon him by a fairy clown,
A crown not of gold but of palest silver,
A precious gem from the fairyland silva.
With lurve in the air one morning,
My friendship with Time died aborning
When he chose to do something frivolous
Just when the Sun's rays were so glorious.
Time emblazed my heart,
Something that didst hurt
When he smiled unto my wife,
Such a great shock unto my life.
He gravitated towards her after a deep sigh,
Like a whirlwind, my mind whirled high.
He thus gallantly asked her for a dance,
And was granted a golden chance.
Keenly I watched this flint-hearted boy,
Thought him skint but feared not nor coy.
With alacrity and in broad day light
Together they cwtched in delight.
He whom I always enjoyed with the wine,
There enjoying with a queen of mine
Whilst committing mischief;
This friend of mine such a thief.
Time whispered thus into my Queen's ear,
Whispers I could hardly hear:
Alas! He promised her the moon
For they'd eloped by noon,
To places strange I might never have a clue,
To where mortals have never dared walk to,
All the way to the realm of fairy land,
Such, such a very far away land.
©Kikodinho Edward Alexandros
10th Aug 2016.
Aug 9, 2016
Aug 9, 2016 at 9:09 PM UTC
Stung by an angling fad
He took a fishing rod
And sallied onto the nearby stream
That leaped down a rocky shelf
Forming small cascades
But running down into plain ground
With a placid demure face
Uttering soft murmurs sweet
Aiming at the darting Trout
That made the still waters into spiraling whirls
He swished the rod in the air
With the alacrity of a practiced bowler
Looking at the line sinking low
He waited for the fish to nibble at the bait
Meanwhile, inhaling the salubrious air
And watching the limpid movement of the stream
As the hook line went taut in his grip
Hopefully he pulled it up
But alas! With no ***** to boast!
Patiently sat he there for hours
Like a sculptured God upon a rock
Oh! It requires immense patience
With adroitness to boot
To be an angler, no doubt
That sure is a sedate man’s pursuit!
Angling rarely fetches any major luck
Except now and then a fresh fish upon one’s plate
Yet following one’s heart’s pursuit
Is worth more than all tangible reward it brings!
Jun 8, 2016
Jun 8, 2016 at 12:14 PM UTC
Acceptance
Accentuates
And
Accelerates
Alacrity,
Ambition,
Acumen;
Allowing
Astounding
Achievements
And
Accomplishments
All
Alive!
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 11:40 PM UTC
It’s good to be hated! But I know my name…
hate, blackened, misshapen, ugly, unnatural,
yet
how it clarifies the mind, like a cupped hand
carrying clear, cold, brook water to dry mouth,
to shock, enliven, resets resets, all your priorities
with alacrity, a word I prefer cause it is an intuitive
combo of eagerness + alarm, suddenly much of the
trivial is no longer worthy of your ‘to do’ list,
you, without thinking, DNA filter your filters,
those screens that digest, then reject & reflect
the inputs ongoings around you, and you are now
reclassified! by the hate surrounding, it declassifies
the time wastrels, reinterpreting most everything
on a bipolar scale of 1 or 10, there are no shades,
the middle ground of gray be fully eliminated,
just like those who wish to
eliminate
me.
in a palette of black or white, your
e +e,
(essence and existence) cannot be ever
a gray area, yes, of course, the sunshine
is yellow bright, and the grass is spring
flushed green, the multicolored daffodils
newly define colors varietal, and the waves
of the Sound, roll relentlessly, but hate can be
coated, camouflaged and subtle disguised, but
we know, oh how we know, and how we wanted
to ***forget, our “sins”, our original liabilities of
our multi colored skins, our religion, our race & ethnicity,***
but NOT our names!
the Rabbis tell us that God nearly did not keep
his promise to Abraham, to rescue his progeny
from slavery in Egypt but saved them only because:
‘On account of four things Israel was redeemed
from Egypt: they did not change their names, they
did not change their language, they did not speak
slander and not even one of them was found to be
promiscuous.’^
I know my name; and though you cannot distinguish
me by dress, know not my moral life, but now you
know my name,
given to me by my parents, in the language of my ancestors:
Mordecai Netanel ben (son of) Eliyahu Chaim
Per my family lore, as told to me by my parents, our
family fled from Spain because of the Inquisition (1478),
settled in a small town in Germany on the banks
of the river Lippe; and from the shtetls of Poland,
and those who survived or avoided the Holocaust
ultimately left Europe, came here, to the land of
the free, the United States of America with names,
in their language, with memories intact.
I will not flee this country,
for I know my true name,
inscribed in my pores, in my
DNA
<>
(but should I have to…there is a sanctuary.)
May 2 2024
May 2, 2024
May 2, 2024 at 9:24 PM UTC
A subcutaneous doubt musters and you itch
The shore line depression is here without hitch
A sea of harps instigating an emotive atrophy
You discharge and you dive with certain alacrity
There is a boat afloat out in the briny of spite
Oar-less and holey amid the bark and the fight
You plunge and you quaff as you leave quiet behind
A clamber and a climb and inside you will find
Ruckus and roar as you rock with each crash
Thunder and hail as the waves tempestuously lash
Gladden with the grim elation preserves you
Mirthful and drugged whilst the wet pours through
To the most aphotic of waters that drags you deep
The boat now just wood unto rocks in a heap
Too eager to leap and now too weak to swim
A stoical sink under madness to dim
The seashore despair was a lie to itself
The still and the shielded brimming with wealth
Never attempt to weather a storm
Of a storm as endless as that of that storm
A wish that you stayed a want that you listened
You’d still be where her green eyes glistened
Where love and the good is now once tendered
Most is best left as how it’s remembered.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
She came as a breath of fresh air
As beautiful as
Morning Glory
Embraced by dew bathing
Epiphanic
Under a yawning sun
Gentle as a breeze
Her softness
My hallucinogen
I melt in her arms
Continuously
I am in awe of
Her beauty
Breathtaking
Delicate
Feminine
Black
Beautiful Melanin
I fell into her spell
With alacrity
Coffee Black no
Sugar no cream
My Queen
Envied and persecuted
Her essence
The epitome of strength
Like coffee Black no
Sugar no cream
My Queen
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 7:34 PM UTC
The ocean isn't really beautiful.
Even Bukowski said so.
Stop treating things like they need to be
happy gooey and awesome.
In fact,
the happy gooey--or crunchy if it is preferable-- awesome,
isn't real because it
oozes alacrity
and therefore adds some sort of undeniable blandness,
like the way they add unfavorable GMOs in food,
to reality
that makes happy gooey awesome all the more not
perfect.
The sun isn't always magnificent is it?
There will be bad days,
where
people are strange
and do strange things
that you will not understand
and you will do strange things
where people will never understand
or when **** just starts to fall apart
like life lacks forward momentum
and nihilism runs rampant in your lungs.
But it's not always night is it?
And then there will be normal days
when this place seems to let you breathe for awhile,
inhaling and exhaling
filing up those voids of the "bad days"
and the "good days",
allowing you to enjoy the small pleasures of this
world.
Allowing you to fit
and conform
into boundaries of your own
self-made contentment,
ultimately restricting you
into your self-made hole
with you and your conquered beliefs over the years
from good situations or bad situations
or situations in between.
But
and don't mind me for taking that long to reach
a small point
the entire universe isn't that small is it?
Mar 8, 2012
Mar 8, 2012 at 9:46 PM UTC
Tomes of advice
Let alive, in the room of cares
Vehemence, instinct, attuned sighs
Where the powers that be, continue until fared
Are we the ears of purpose?
Set in sides and meandering light
The skill of another, to share the insight of us
Should we enable a dance, of redoubt for might?
My door of adding, as avarice is...
The truth in long glances, with method to move
Thought, the biding hope of when is, bliss
The turn of completeness, the coping hour we have of use?
Lose me in the fold...
The tooth I invoke, is a creation of voice and tone, to total
A resolve of guidance, of kind come for wishes to hold
The grace of unity, if not unique sense, before legend falls
To reproof...
Time in its steady march to liberty, the devotion of fashion
Though a tarter end to hindsight, may be aloof
We confirm the date of simple alacrity, a host of could lasting...
Be the love, of a lifetime...
Of causes redeemed by a curious share
In the superiority of life, to know a callous friendship worth trying
And the impress of duress, driven to cares we ne'er guarantee...?
Unless the cold turn of truth, is towards waiting love
Done distress, marveling need, the common remark of persuasion
In the name of urges, we attest to passions, we grant another covenant
The decision of a soul to keep, knowing a handheld in something besides here's intrusion
All
A day's lot in the careful wishes we seek, for a nary come dwell
Rhapsody, in a courage's stance, the times to live and know a call
To harmony, the burden of thee, assumes patience is ours to tell...
Sep 5, 2022
Sep 5, 2022 at 1:50 PM UTC
Dark heavens
slapped my state
of blues today.
the sky was grey
and green, and
seething in between.
it spat cold rocks
on me and made
me see alacrity,
defeat my sheets
of drenched
passivity,
refreshingly.
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 8:27 AM UTC
Alacrity is what she exudes,
a passion for greatness,
and she has it,
it,
sublimity,
too many distractions,
too much derision,
or she would already be so paramount,
a DaVinci with the brush,
or a Lagerfeld with the needle,
her beauty is Merovingian,
so humble it vamps me,
me,
a lucky man,
electrified by her words,
and waiting for her touch,
Apr 27, 2010
Apr 27, 2010 at 10:18 AM UTC
Reading from it's book of absurdity, for you and me is a daily routine,
do I get conditioned to meekly accept life's brutal reality you ask me
Even on a bed of burning coal, I've seen dancers amaze with alacrity,
I fight back those slings and arrows with the sheer verve of my poetry.
From lonely walks, through inner paths every time I return smiling
my golden retriever faithfully follows with the day's happy find.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 9:05 PM UTC