"amenity" poems
If I could simply overcome
Possessive nouns and vowel sounds
I would not need to study ******
Heavy lies’ beheaded crowns
But you make martyrs with your charter
School exclusive service sector
To systemically condemn me
To the destitution nectar
Of the corner story ******
Potential Cinderella caged in
The statistics of the mathematic
Overdose equation
Comatose’n like a Holy Ghost
Of tranquil ranking party skanks
Whose tanks plan out the projects
For the boys still shootin’ blanks
And then the slavers liberate
Some nation-state of god forsaken
Oil barons salivate
To taste the poison Apple’s stake in
Stock in stuffer markets takin’
All the products people makin’
Privatizing profit-docket lawless
Mother Nature rapin’
For some scarcity disparities
In wealth I can’t attain
You keep me feeding on the bottom
From the top, you make it rain
So as the brains continue drainin’
In amenity dependency
I tinker with the inner-machinations
Now the enemy
You’ve made me out to be you see
My generation’s future’s bleaker
Than the past in full HD
Jul 26, 2018
Jul 26, 2018 at 1:45 PM UTC
Hazed by the dire rope of death
A subtle incandescence flickered
A white light glimmered like ****
Whilst hushed peaked a snicker
Her smile an adequate sedative
Terminating vivid estuaries
A moment equally competitive
In other eyes deemed honorary
Mi corazón happened upon felicity
Blessed be this origin of jubilee
Freeze we shall in fair amenity
Beneath this fine cherry tree
Feb 15, 2012
Feb 15, 2012 at 7:32 PM UTC
Don't try to move
Just Be still
You must prove
It"s your will
Just be,
Quietly
Silently
Chill
No technology
No phones
No emails
No fax
Mythology
Bones
Trails
Relax
Thoughts flow through my head
like streams upon the riverbed
Constantly haunting me
Is it a plague or am I free
Wondering what it is I truly do seek
On this Hedonistic journey for pleasure
Once I finally reach the highest peak
Will I even care if there isn't any treasure
And even if there was, how much is really ever enough?
No matter how much was there I would still feel rough
The journey is over, but at least you can buy more stuff
Many toys to play with but your hands are tightly cuffed
Look a brand new thing to crave
How much money did you save?
I"ll take that secret to my grave
As a true consumer ridden slave
Everyone wants what they just can't have
Eyeing your neighbor"s prize like a vulture
Euphemise it veal instead of saying calve
Euthanized a deal, our throw away culture
I want more more more, that's mine not yours
So blessed to have our choice of each amenity
We"ve bore ourselves into consumer ******
So stressed when all we should seek is serenity
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 5:58 AM UTC
I find myself offering to the death of cold.
Your love is inhospitable.
Prolonged exposure to your love
has caused numbness in my body.
I’ve learned to handle the bitterness,
But each layer that kept me warm has been stripped.
Inside of me,
the same stinging chill is found
that your heart was frosted in.
And now I understand when the sorrow became frozen.
The icy heart hardens into a glacier
when the agony remains in a fixed spot,
forced to recrystallize.
I’ll burrow myself in the comfort of snow,
stabbing myself with ice spikes I've sharpened,
knowing the only amenity
is my death tonight.
That everything I could’ve endured,
was the frost mounting against my flesh.
Sep 5, 2024
Sep 5, 2024 at 11:20 PM UTC
sanity is relative
it's a hidden amenity
some convenience of clarity
like the kleenex in hotel bathrooms.
you'll be fine without it
better even maybe
depending on how big a mess you like to make..
because toilet paper works just the same
only maybe not as nice
same principal really-
most people cant even tell.
or maybe they're too busy
trying to tell themselves
the scotty they're holding
isnt 2 ply.
Sep 17, 2013
Sep 17, 2013 at 9:42 AM UTC
Hanging turtles and
Netted birds of amenity
Dangle from her
Left hip like jewels ‘neath a,
“Ming,” ear as she traverses
Mountains beholden kitchens
And one more rise come setting splendor.
Supper may be atop the right, pelvis,
But opposite and left,
Rests the flask, bitter in chase of sanity.
I’m sure the scant pebble
Rattling in between
Her stomach and sorrow
Was nothing more than
A desperate thirst opposed the
Blister born benevolence,
Thirst opposed execution
And a coin converted spirit opposed,
“Xie xie,” (thank you), a platitude,
As heads clip pavement,
Blood pales a gutter,
Or soon-to-be feast’s final throes,
A bleeding and breeding for other,
Leading jitter-beholden mice to flee,
For they may be next
So future’s victuals arrive
Unhindered.
All and assumptive, assistance and rendered,
She walks away with only this –
Everyone’s emaciated
And the butcher on the street is still a butcher,
A peddler, a savior, and butcher again;
A source, be it left, right or wrong,
In need of a drink, as we all are,
With only the means, “take me to the sip,”
And by dollar come pocket born you.
Aug 13, 2015
Aug 13, 2015 at 10:13 AM UTC
How full of animation he was
when he talked about his hopes for the future
Blood brothers like "Teddy" & "Stray Cat";
Street rockers in the night, dancing for tomorrow
How right as rain that unique freaks should
Be too classic; Like **** Floyd"** with their
Hysteric glamour
How he kept the times exciting, (wild dancers)
And the information fresh (delivery staff)
Combined like graffiti, it said
Affected rocker rabbit rules the world
Made in his own image (take it easy, naysayers)
He's got it under control
How fast they ambush members only
With a speed to exceed mach
Let's enjoy their technical tennis,
Unique cheerful events like these are
What's to come
A baby winks at him, that's how he's sure
(And he writes)
Rude beats for the creatures of the night
Like how their young minds lead a
Casual amenity life
For all the heart broken kids and lovers
A global excitement (try it you'll like it)
Doing back flips to the sock hop
He made such an interesting excuse about
Why we was late
(Only experts) mix the drinks and shine the knives
So a person created; "Artificialman"
Will save his soul,
Please don't cry, the night dew
And wet sneakers are quite enough for now
Plus the plans for the future,
The Midnight Move
Feeling the darkness and never forgetting
The joy of singing together
How full of animation he was
When he sang of his exclusive adventures
Jun 6, 2013
Jun 6, 2013 at 4:42 PM UTC
Oh the duality
There's no neutrality
Only reality
Stored in your mind.
What of this atrophy
Discount integrity
Chase after perjury
Hoarding the lie.
And to this enmity
What is the remedy
From this extremity
Where can I hide?
Notice the brevity
End of the melody
It's your identity
Searching inside.
Find you calamity
Soak in the density
Plundered is empathy
Fronted by pride.
With all intensity
Bring on indemnity
Forfeit amenity
Bow and you die.
Feb 23, 2013
Feb 23, 2013 at 11:03 PM UTC
There was none of your itsy-bitsy, teenie-weenie bikinis at a fashion show of vintage swimwear in aid of the Cleveland Pools.
The costumes on show on the catwalk at Green Park Station were a much more modest affair, with a lot less flesh on view, and with some very interesting costumes which seemed to amuse the younger audience.
The Vintage Swimwear fashion show celebrated the last 200 years of bathing suits – the pools celebrate their 200th birthday next year.
Costumes from the last two centuries were modelled down the catwalk, with some interesting reactions from the audience, many of them design or fashion students from Bath Spa University.
It was a great turnout according to Sally Helvey from the Cleveland Pools Trust.
"We had a great night, and it really was great fun," she said.
There was a bar and barbecue hosted by Green Park Brasserie, and ice cream from a vintage Humphry van.
The audience also enjoyed a photography booth, and picture and video slideshows.
The Cleveland Pools is the only surviving Georgian Lido in the country, with a beautiful outdoor pool nestling in the back woods by the River Avon near the Bathwick estate.
But it is very derelict and will need millions spent on it before it can be re-opened again to the public. Last summer the trust received the welcome news the amenity is to be granted more than £4 million from the Heritage Lottery Fund, so plans are in place to have the pools restored and open for use again possibly as early as 2017.
A lot more funding needs to be raised to try and match the funds given by the HLF, and the fashion show, organised by Bath Spa student Jenny Brown, was just one of many events being organised over the summer.Read more here:www.marieaustralia.com/formal-dresses | www.marieaustralia.com/bridesmaid-dresses
May 24, 2015
May 24, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC
remember the days
when it all seemed so far away
and we could drift lifelessly
into a warm haze
of blissfully amenity
and pointless laughter.
sippin' on pink lemonade,
wearing bandanas and sandals,
and daydreaming about when our lives might begin.
Aug 15, 2013
Aug 15, 2013 at 2:27 AM UTC
Today, I must write a poem:
What this poem has to say
has yet to come to mind.
Has yet to ignite like a spark
on a cord
making its way
to an explosive source of ideas.
Such an amenity
so unlikely to be found
happening here.
I must again mine for thoughts.
So, along with my pickaxe,
I trek with good memories
to return me safely back
from the deepest recesses of my mind.
I hunt.
For idea. For inspiration,
For I cannot return
empty handed.
I dig. And I dig. And I dig.
It feels like forever,
as if there's nothing left,
as if the mountain of my mind
was tapped dry long ago.
I check every crevice,
every corner, and nook,
now ridden with old
and reused ideas.
And then I find it:
The first flower of spring;
the cloud in clear sky;
the single rock of inspiration;
possibly the last chunk of idea
for years to come
simply sitting there,
lighting up
the dark caverns of my mind,
waiting to take shape.
As I begin to mold
As I begin to sculpt
"It" is no longer an it.
Ideally, it's an idea
that has succumbed to the darkest,
most vile parts of my mind.
Yet, despite,
has been brought out the depths of
being just an idea, withering away;
it has been realized.
It has been successfully plucked
at its time of harvest.
It has become so much more;
this once coal of an idea
has been polished,
and glimmers just as bright
as its diamond-like companions.
So, I return
with yet another triumph,
from braving the dark and cold
labyrinth of my mind
yielding my trophy;
my idea.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 6:33 PM UTC
i followed, until the follower button broke and suddenly
sullenly you're verified hanging out with other pretty things
amenity people, furniture unwrapped from foreign places
making flirty faces with the next boy and the next ones after that
i followed until my patience broke and the pride flooded in
rejection swiftly came within the bucket my heart was found within
just because it feels so good, you knowing my secrets
and stalking my social media like my biggest fan
it doesn't mean a thing if i don't know you at all like i used to
enter stage left: the regret part nine hundred and seven
maybe we're too young to feel something real between us
bottles of liquor on your mini fridge, messing around
with each other's bodies all this reddened afternoon, forgetting
the crisis seems so averted when the asymptotic answer
is just forgetting it exists and you can do way better than
hanging out with me but here we are
i swear i can make it worth something for you to remember
well i'll be the one you'll take home tonight or tomorrow
in that red convertible like a weird chainsmoker song
and i'll forget it's 2017 just for the whole ride.
Jun 16, 2017
Jun 16, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
I'm sorry for the flowers
I didn't realize the burden of being so pretty
The timing and the effort
That such beauty could bring such pity
I'm sorry for the hours
You've spent wishing I was doing what I wasn't
The waiting that you've suffered
Hoping its bringing happiness when it doesn't
**** these dozen roses
A red reminder of my ineptitudes
The buzzing in the interludes
The red herring that I've served to you
**** these dozen roses
A celebration without serenity
Her mind without amenity
It isn't much but oh what it's meant to me
I'm sorry for the little things
I hope you can find a way to leave them where they lie
I'm sorry for the flowers
You don't have to do anything,
just leave them 'till they die.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 12:12 AM UTC
We practice serenity
with each day that we receive.
No search for amenity
just live off of what we believe.
No shortness of want or need,
look how easily we breathe.
That’s where the old snake stopped me
from attempting to grab the fruit.
There was endless crop to see
there was infinite loot.
We’re living in paradise lost.
We’re living in paradise lost,
and I don’t ever want to be found.
No much more to gain,
we shower within the rain.
Maybe I could stop this train
maybe you could stop the pain.
We have no short of grain
we have no hate or bane.
Rocky Mountains or flat plain,
delusional but still sane.
That’s where the old snake stopped me,
and told me that I need not pick.
The fruit was freely dropping,
raining down so strong and quick.
We’re living in paradise lost,
with nothing bringing us down.
We’re living in paradise lost,
and I don’t ever want to be found.
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 12:20 PM UTC
I do not want an old man God sat in a throne,
Judging from afar with sceptre and gold
riding on a cloud, sombre and haloed,
stern faced, woolly warm beard stroking,
Michelangelo-esque nighty clad, run of the mill deity.
I do not want a Sunday morning liturgy reference God,
inhabiting musty buildings, documented within dusty books, out dated, out rated, out of duty once a week
(twice if you include the mid-week bible study),
appeasing a sick relative, reluctant, habit God.
I do not want a jolly nodding head back shelf of the car job, kitsch icon, only when it suits me, pocket amenity,
fashion accessory, hobby gimmick God; a God modelled
from routine and agenda and TV evangelism, a convenience style digestible man made allusion.
I don’t want a controlling egomaniac parent God, bent on
setting us unattainable goals and tasks then throwing
a tantrum when the model train set breaks; or a God
who is distant, self-righteous, passive and out of touch,
an elusive, reclusive, exclusive God,
I want an ‘I Am who I Am’ God, whose boundaries are so
immense that to trace them would destroy you. A God
who is completely indefinable, that every brushstroke
put to canvas, every conceivable melody whistled, that
every imaginable word uttered, would barely compare.
I want a God who to stand before would burn my eyes out, make my heart explode; that I would be totally devastated. Yet, a God who is approachable and approaches, a God who is in the here and now, surrounding, dumbfounding, astounding, a God with promise and hope you can taste.
A God who breaks all the boundaries and exceeds every
human expectation and limitation, a God who hears and feels every longing, every desire and creates opportunity,
empowering the heart that cries out, stilling the soul when it aches, a God of promise and hope and deliverance.
I want a God unlike any parent, friend, lover, sovereign, reckless in compassion and filthy with goodness, available and ever there. So dangerously loving, so excessively wise and firm, yet tender, knowing, emotive, compassionate, A God who takes my grief. A God asking to be found and worth being sought.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 8:28 AM UTC
Wooley legs elevated
his remote at hand,
servants at beckon call.
A kingly schmuck
with a tall glass to fill.
His platter shall not
be delayed.
A royal bloodline
will earn one
not a single amenity,
for we are all
just serfs
in his court.
Apr 18, 2013
Apr 18, 2013 at 2:32 AM UTC
What makes a poem a poem?
Why do rhyming words in a certain fashion have such a great effect?
Is it my expression?
Your fascination?
Or is there no explanation
Why do the few descriptive words set the scene of tranquility and beauty?
Serenity
Amenity
is my identity
How is it that the rhythm gets you going just the right way
Setting the beat
Beating the heat
because no matter what i just can't be beat
But sometimes isn't poetry more of your feelings?
I'm not striving for the perfect line
Frankly i don't care i just want you to be mine
Oh (insert lover's name here) you are just divine
So here I am with my pen and paper trying to impress the world
But poetry should have more of a meaning
it should come out of your heart
but my heart doesn't have much in it, it has quite a bit of room
so brb ttyl bada bing bada boom
Oct 12, 2010
Oct 12, 2010 at 4:38 PM UTC
The first time you caught me,
I let my hair fall
As if no one was watching
I let my clip slip
From my unfastened grasp,
Forever imprinting itself
On the somber soil
I sat patiently
In my overwhelmed chair,
Hoping to see a glimpse
Of your carnal sashay
Even for just a moment,
To capture that exhilarating
Flash of your dimples
Ascending to the clouds
I came to you
Hands and ears unlocked,
With what must have
Looked like amenity,
But it was so much more
My cheeks rouged on purpose,
When your majestic voice
Tried itself on humor
Even when it was not your best
I’d laugh, hoping it
Would attest my devotion
When your eyes would drown
I’d peer up into the heavens,
Silently pray for harmony
To bind you with its wings
Made of stardust feathers
And inspiriting seeds of love
Beck and call became my religion,
All so you would have
Everything you wanted without
A second of the mind’s wonder
I made sure your soul,
Before my own,
Was kept shining like
A golden shower upon
A field of frivolous dandelions
I pulled strings from my heart
With entombed trusts attached,
And infused them into yours
For your sanity
I made it all the more difficult
When in the end,
Betwixt the morning current
Of approaching calescent rays,
And frigid breaths prey
To the nights turmoil
You still chose her
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
Didn't see you, not one time
and everything was fine
I honestly couldn't believe it
to see you, I thought I need it
but there was more space in my head
and I was surprised where it lead
I walked around at lunch
admired, a crystal clear unused pool
and wanted to jump in that moment, like a fool
and walked around the football field
the vast expanse, the pride, the high yield
of attendance and it's fully equipped
Tickets, food and bathrooms, nothing missed
And lights, really can't forget those
You can see them from very far I'm told
And then past the soccer field
truly ghettoized, not well healed
a few trees for shade, maybe some water
a shake and back port-a-potty the amenity that matters
This is our culture, this is where we stand
To play football is to be a man
Then past the solar panels
and the hot sheered sheep
standing underneath
the grass they are to eat is dry
So someone has added stale roles to their diet
and I saw a little lamb
and that was the best part, of this I am a fan
And when I came back everything was OK
and I hope one day
I won't think of you at all
and at last I will stand tall
Aug 8, 2012
Aug 8, 2012 at 10:43 PM UTC
What it'd be
to be the same cup of tea
and poured so thoroughly
for all the world to see
What it'd be
to be sought and enjoyed
rather than looked
through tainted and destroyed
colored glasses,
decidedly annoyed
people fix me irritated glances
I'm not a crowd pleaser
and alone viewed as bitter
I'm sorry I'm not your cup of tea
if you see a quiter
then a bitter quiter has to be me
What it'd be
to not even be me
maybe instead
from a mint brewery
then my demeanor
would appear brighter,
cleaner
but not to you
achu achu
appearances never
faze to blue
until that brew adieus
What it'd be
for my recipe
to have been escriben
so graciously
near my name
Instead drank ostensibly
spit contemptuously
and given tired out pleasantries
failed to taste great piquancy
no red, yellow, or blue cup's
compatible dripping amenity
And oh what it'd be
for you to see
that with the alliance with a honey bee
everyone's cup of tea
Aug 4, 2016
Aug 4, 2016 at 3:09 AM UTC
A vast universe of such fragile things
The concourse of supernal entities
The fatigued rule of vagaries as kings
A tarriance of languid remedies
The journey into the realm of the mind
Safe within the thoughtless comfort of sleep
Enthralled in visions of such a kind:
little trivial things in our souls we keep
Awake from the Depths to the blinding light
Overwrought with the encroachment of Dawn
Wandering the day, longing for night
Darkness to Day like the king to its pawn
In the amenity of night we flee
Enveloped in the dream, we remain free
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 5:33 PM UTC
I like the way these painkillers feel
Weakening, trembling, serenity
I don't really think they'll help me heal
A cover-up, delightful amenity
I wish that my thoughts came in more than four lines
Always ****** and meaningless
And I always have this obsession with rhyme
One day i'll be left penniless
I thought today of those unfortunately without a home
and how I don't feel like helping them
I'm unbearably selfish, we're all somewhat unknown
Where's my humanity been?
Jan 18, 2011
Jan 18, 2011 at 10:36 PM UTC
Raw like an unroasted duck
I've stroked my luck
Beat off on destiny
Worked for every amenity
So I can kick back
Cut myself some slack
But I can't stop
Consistent as a perpetual clock
I've crawled and had my first steps
I've walked and flexed my biceps
Never backed down from a challenge
I can never make my bed to lay in
Always come to rest on a hinge
Never ink an appointment just push pin-
It on my calendar, never promise time
When I'll stop by for a corona and lime,
On the move I whiff the roses,
Let people enjoy me in small doses;
This is me; raw as can be in motion
Never gonna get cooked; free as killer whales in the ocean...
© okpoet
Jan 23, 2013
Jan 23, 2013 at 12:15 AM UTC
I live for that sound,
Between life and death,
Natural,
Forced,
And naturally forced by my hand,
Serrated steel extension of wild precision,
It says it needs a shower,
And I oblige.
Daddy takes care of his children;
I am firm.
Keep your nose to the grindstone,
Yet,
I am warm,
I'm grateful for your amenity,
Your love,
Your life in pools of red,
My children live through you,
Through your sacrifice they grow.
I...I know you understand,
As you make that sound,
Telling me "you are welcome",
Cradled in my loving arms,
I am humbled.
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 11:02 PM UTC