"amnesty" poems
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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:
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Cheap Hill Chips
EMAIL: [email protected]
+2348131914240
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
Tuesday night and it’s Baked Beans AGAIN! Does she ever stop talking.
I used to fool myself that her snore was musical like a sweet sounding flute,
Now it’s just a snore. Too loud, all too familiar.
What would happen I wonder if I took that tin of Baked Beans on the table
And battered her to death with it.
They found the ****** weapon in the cupboard on the top shelf,
Next to a quivering can of rice pudding.
It didn’t look overly angry or guilty, it looked (for what it’s worth)
Like any other tin of beans.
However it had blood and hair around the rim.
“BAKED BEANS **** the front page of The Sun would say,
Amnesty on all tinned goods called for, as the masses
Started taking ‘tin(g)s” into their own hands.
All over the country, partners dying at the hands of Heinz,
Or possibly cans of spam or pear slices.
The Army may catch on, a major new part of SAS training,
Close quarter baked bean tactics.
The wail of sirens as Police arrive at an incident
“Put down the weapon or we shall be forced to fire… tinned pineapple”.
A can of alphabetti spaghetti could spell death.
“Let’s not have Baked Beans tonight my love… Chinese?”
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 5:09 AM UTC
Willingly submissive to my lacking productivity,
I stir around those little thoughts aimlessly.
That cat will finally look into a day in the life
and grant me some amnesty.
Aug 27, 2012
Aug 27, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC
I can feel the gravity
savage sadness grabbing me
like a stabbing agony
panicking heartbeat rapidly
like a drastic atrophy
my own tapestry of travesty
applicable calamity
catastrophe is my canopy
the faculty of tragedy
with no strategy for amnesty
the laxity of sanity
I can feel the gravity
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 4:57 PM UTC
I never did trust this goldfish
while typing.
Its bulging eyes scream spy,
and I won't have it escape,
tell people from wrong crowds
about these secret writing projects.
Circling its crystal bowl,
this goldfish is mine.
A political prisoner
with no chance at pardon.
Call Amnesty International
or protest, I don't care.
It knows too much
to swim in freedom.
(Eventually)
Death will be its liberator:
Its body glistening in the sundown
during the proposed viking funeral;
secrets kept secret.
Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
Dark flows down to the street's pools
The blotting paper of sky in grey
has imprints of cyclamen roses
Right there on the street they are lynching
with a welding torch the rests
of this night I have spent with a walk
to assure myself that I live still
Maybe this is the morning
that will give an amnesty
to all the time barred loves
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
Back in my rebel days (yester)
I sported a spelunking bumper sticker
On my 1972 VW pop-up camper van
That read Free Floyd Collins
Totally apolitical well intentioned humor
Concerning one of my pasttimes that surprisingly
Never maimed or killed me
Whilst reporting for an official call for jury duty
The uptight and obviously a **** (did I just say that?)
Prosecutor enquired during jury selection
As to whether any of us prospectives
Had bumper stickers and if so
What they might say
The NRA sticker guy next to me
And the I'd Rather Be Fishin' and NASCAR
Sticker guy next to him
Passed with smugly flying colors
(red needless to say)
While the 72 year old nun
With the Amnesty International sticker
Didn't fair so well
And was promptly burned at the stake
(I kid you)
Needless to say
The long-haired Harvard educated
Native American
With the Doctors Without Borders
And the Remember Wounded Knee
With a not so discreet AIM sticker thrown in to boot
Also got the boot
Pondering the merits of the court stenographer's
Shapely fingers while judiciously confidently awaiting my turn
It never ocurred to me that Mr. Collins might be
So wrongly accused as to have me
Rejected and summarily ejected
From jury duty
A travesty of justice
I say
If for no other reason than I was so looking forward to
Sticking it to the Man
You can imagine my surprise and disappointment
As I wandered down to the Shamrock
To catch Terry O'Leary do a slam
And raise a glass to
Bobby Sands
r~ 22Feb14
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 11:41 PM UTC
These city lights look for all the world to me
like some spellbound amnesty
but in reality
they are the building blocks that bring the nights
so I can see
what is to come and what will be.
Like ships at sea that head to port
we're caught
and cast upon the waves like bread to be dispersed
saved ,reborn and nursed by those well versed
in maritime and chandler's stores and sending those back through revolving doors to drown again,
and how the night pours down on me
slipping quickly through the city light where the building blocks become another knock,a twist of fate,and being cruel would stand and wait,while I, the traveller stand and hesitate
to go on
to stay?
an end to an end or a beginning that would send me some hope,no pope here to bless me or you,just another city night to fight and fit tightly through until the morning comes and runs my fears away.
I stay and am obliged to those contributors,interlocutors who saw me,spoke, and watched me as I broke upon the morning shore,
score one to me and city nil
until tonight
when we will fight again.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 1:01 AM UTC
Never did I trust goldfish when I was typing away.
Those bulging eyes say spy and I will not have this
animal escape when I'm not looking and tell someone
in the wrong crowd about my secret writing projects.
This goldfish,
circling this crystal bowl,
he is mine,
a political prisoner.
Call Amnesty International if you want but
there's no existing manner to free him.
Except death.
Then he will be given a proper viking funeral
and his body burnt in the glistening sundown.
Secrets kept secret.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 11:53 PM UTC
dancing on the sands of agony
to the saddest song of apathy
standing behind tactical amnesty
with no chance because we lack capacity
we can't advance in fantasy
in rampant mankind's laxity
this land is ****** by strategy
a lack of sanity and demanded voracity
a stance of disbanding amity
we enhance the mass audacity
with plans deteriorating rapidly
we only last for a chance at catastrophe
Aug 20, 2016
Aug 20, 2016 at 10:40 AM UTC
I am a liar and a fake and a hypocrite.
I’m tired of screaming sincerity,
all the while begging for amnesty.
I can wash my hands
but I can never clean the granite.
My body moans contentment,
but my eyes are empty
and I’ve had an epiphany,
this loneliness shrieks humanity
but I need something apart from me.
I pray your name daily
but I’m still desperately failing,
so i’ll ask once more,
will you break my heart
and save me from my immorality?
Oct 27, 2014
Oct 27, 2014 at 4:36 AM UTC
The clearing in the woods is where
I find solace and solitude
I call it “the glade” as it caresses
The covert, ceaseless, controlled calmness
That captures my core and character
Like a meditative mantra,
It manumits the melancholy misery
Of mundane mortality
Quiet and still, the glade is an asylum
For amnesty, absolution and
Apology of the mind
Jun 29, 2023
Jun 29, 2023 at 11:09 PM UTC
Desktop In The Charismatic
THEOLOGIAN ESSENCE <[email protected]>
BONE STIRS ....'
ASSEMBLIONAIRE BEYOND MAGICIAN WOLVES
INVISIBLE GRAND OUTPOURING AMNESTY SURROUNDS....'
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
SURETICE TONGUE
Email: [email protected]
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Desktop In The Charismatic
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
11/9/17
to hydee1982
Desktop In The Charismatic
Dream into refuge all plantation
Dream into cog all wheel
Dream into bracing all consultative
Dream into rocking all regent
Dream into preferable all chariots
Dream into luxurious all absorbs
Dream into contagious all enthusiasm
Dream into communal all welding
Dream into universal all anatomy
Dream into reality all rings
Dream into searchingly all mysteries
Dream into artillery all mechanisms
Dream into colony all proportions
Dream into miracle all compositions
Dream into artistry all pursuit
Dream into alliance all admiral company
Dream into fragrance all new extensions
Dream into vast volume habitation all invests
Dream into carrying devotion all per excellence
Dream into grace-going all shepherd rewarding
Dream into oasis all resuming acquaintance
Dream into cross over all answering wonder.
Your Invades-Of-Veins,
Samuel-David O. Armstrong
Email: [email protected]
+2348131914240
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Aug 11, 2018
Aug 11, 2018 at 7:27 AM UTC
I can feel the gravity
savage sadness grabbing me
like a stabbing agony
panicking heartbeat rapidly
like a drastic atrophy
the tapestry of travesty
applicable calamity
catastrophe is my canopy
the faculty of tragedy
with no strategy for amnesty
the laxity of sanity
I can feel the gravity
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 2:47 PM UTC
.
You could...
Let the universe decide...
If it has space for you.
Let life decide...
If it has a future for you.
Let God decide...
If He has amnesty for you.
Or you could...
Let yourself decide...
To fight for a place
where there's always a tomorrow,
blessed with opportunities
to seek forgiveness.
.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 12:32 PM UTC
Arctic Seasoned Disguise
Winter breathes in sepia tones along a lonely two lane street
divided amongst the sweeping frozen dunes
now forced into shouldered amnesty
Street lights shiver in snow capped bonnets
while sidewalks sleep ‘neath blankets of flittering flakes
The air, frigidly crisp…moves of tiny chiffon sparkles dancing
Rooftops, plump and soft, show off their frosted padding
as evergreens find alabaster fingers tickling their branches
in chilled teasings and frozen dustings
Footprints, once there are gone, covered and recovered again
all evidence of life is erased beneath pearl clouded skies
and faint outlines of distant thoughts
White on black stripes drape in glacial wanderings
spanning the slush of asphalt weavings
in straight line piercings across the wintry landscape
February reigns brutal, sub zero ponderings swirl
from high above the icebox wasteland, once brimming with color
now opaque in its arctic seasoned disguise…
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:38 PM UTC
Curled up in the passenger side, my moccasins rested on the edge of the seat.
Projecting heat pleaded the piercing winter from under my skin.
My chin fell slowly as ash insulated my heart.
My lips would part as second-hand soothing soot
Grew arms and cradled my soul like the look
A newborn baby receives when wrapped in adoration.
A suffocation as an indication I was not alone.
Strangers. Soaring together for forty-eight hours.
Oblivious to dangers our adolescent wings never noticed.
Our only focus was on each other.
At first, words of conversation refused to be discovered.
But all at once we slowly uttered
Our pasts until his demons appeared in front of me.
Surprised I could still see through the windshield ahead,
I did not dread the broken being to my left.
Because who was I to judge the stranger
Who’d unknowingly love me as if his life depended on it?
Have you ever been in love with a Thunderbird?
One that flies solely in winter blizzards?
Fueled by chain-smoking cigarettes
And Dunkin Donut cappuccinos with five sugars.
It never once regarded the threat
Of driving through life
At ninety-five miles per hour.
I fell in love at six in the morning, wearing a borrowed jacket.
Coated in sleep’s drowsiness, we floated on clouds,
Dodging white paper coral trees and buried houses.
I fell in love when the world stood still
And the snow descended along with our sanity.
Somehow a Thunderbird granted me amnesty from myself.
As humanity remained asleep, with stealth
We drifted through back roads in horrific elegance
That jostled my brain until my mind was rewired to my heart
And has remained that way since.
Oct 25, 2014
Oct 25, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Give me your tired
Your hungry your poor
But now-a-days
That don’t apply anymore
When it comes to
Illegal immigrants
Cos some contend
They’re here at our expense
Are they guest workers
Or just neo-slaves
Underpaid
So big business saves
And if you think
They’re gonna reinvest
Then I suggest
You take another guess
Is it reform
Or really amnesty
It’s a question
That hasn’t been answered (ya see)
And it’s hard to say
If it will ever be
Given its nature
And its history
Are they guest workers
Or just neo-slaves
Underpaid
So big business saves
And if you think
They’re gonna reinvest
Then I suggest
You take another guess
Now the debate
Is heating up
The law demands
We give ‘em up
But who’s gonna turn in
Their own family
I know I wouldn’t
But that’s just me
Are they guest workers
Or just neo-slaves
Underpaid
So big business saves
And if you think
They’re gonna reinvest
Then I suggest
You take another guess
I really don’t think
We have sumthin to fear
There’s already millions
Of immigrants here
Doin the jobs
No one else wants to do
They’re being exploited
And we are too
Now the debate
Is heating up
The law demands
We give ‘em up
But who’s gonna turn in
Their own family
I know I wouldn’t
But that’s just me
Are they guest workers
Or just neo-slaves
Underpaid
So big business saves
And if you think
They’re gonna reinvest
Then I suggest
You take another guess
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 9:00 AM UTC
Here we go again
Back and forth about the flaws I need to mend
Just because I tend to enjoy the thought of my end
And that I'm always dressed in black when I'm out with my friends
You sit there and wonder what could've happened
to that boy oh so happy
Now a lover of anarchy and a hater of society
How grandmother do you see such beauty in conformity?
Have you taken into consideration this reality?
The idea of order and balance is rapidly
Turning into a travesty
Because of mankind's brutality
and false sense of morality
There's vanity and inhumanity
Against ones own sexuality
And people have the audacity
to critically antagonize those for their God given nationality
While this wonderful country
Goes further intro bankruptcy
So continue to live your keen little fantasy
That we are all living happily and equally
Your views have such opacity
That I can see right through your irrationality
And your thinning mentality
So please continue to criticize me
Please provide some amnesty
Don't listen to me I'm just crazy
Remember? You can't trust me because everything I say is blasphemy
So excuse my insanity
And allow me to gulp down these pills so carefully
Not to take more than I should be
And I'll just vegetate amongst people like a cavity
An outcast to your perfect society
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 10:22 AM UTC
We are wronged by people daily,
but to not forgive is unconscionable.
The Universal King had died for all;
for in eternity's view, we're pardonable.
He has given absolute amnesty
to everyone who has accepted Him.
Make no mistake about this unmerited immunity -
Grace's favor (over the course of Life) wears thin.
Death is inevitable, and our spirits
this mortal frame will leave;
so take advantage of God's condonation
to be granted a heavenly reprieve.
Human lives hang in limbo
under the penalty of death;
speak kindly of others and refrain...
From another wasted breath.
Author Notes:
Condonation is a real word: you can see more about it at:
http://www.m-w.com/cgi-bin/dictionary?book=Dictionary&va;=condonation
Since I believe in the Christ's resurrection, His death is in the past tense.
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://www.squidoo.com/book-isbn-1419650513/
Apr 4, 2012
Apr 4, 2012 at 11:18 AM UTC
If my poem is color
then I will wave
every freaking color
as a badge
If I declare
amnesty for every poem
and vow
that no harm will befall
any poem
then I swear
they will remain here
on my verdant fields unharmed
So Sisters
Brothers
bring your lost
your wounded poems
to me at last
They will be well tended
They will not be misplaced.
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 8:03 PM UTC
Should I speak with velocity
As I claim to leak veracity?
Share a fair stare leads to “harassing me”
Silence holds a gold ferocity
But platinum resides inside a travesty
Yet the origins of this casualty
Was not the first fatality
It's birth was an idea, you see?
Are you sick of this this hostility?
Is your health a grim variety?
Failed to conform to propriety?
Here's an inferno “Oh no, a monstrosity!”
So why chastise my morality?
Must I despise and note your deformity?
Lead covered gold is not a new novelty
But somehow chaos seems so orderly
Cheat on Death with Immortality
Sleep with Lust for chastity
Uniqueness is another banality
Copy/pasted originality
Experience this eternal finality
Our follies are a great mentality
Your demise is your vitality
Real life is surreality
Feign the truth with validity
Pride upon your humility
Rust brags of lost durability
Insomniacs thrive restlessly
If you engage in logomachy
Then you'll love this: sophomachy
“Who's more manly?” Phallomachy
“Let's do what's right!” Hypocrisy
We act like we have modesty
But we boast of prowess internally
“Maybe if I work with integrity,
They might notice, and appreciate me”
Work too hard? Liability
Conned her heart? Lie-ability
Honesty at start? Futility
Torn apart? Utilize utility
Day dream REM stage: Insanity
Sanitize with rage: Calamity
Perhaps it's a phase: Therapy
Live like “good ol' days” regretfully
Raze a raised loving family
Tame their ways with amnesty
And watch them break their identity
Of perfection tainted in fidelity
Are our minds just a cavity?
Uprising against the gravity
Speak high of low society
Think I'm crazy? Analyze me
A grave cradling a memory
Of each ill-fated ideology
We die for our biology
Pyromania is the new cryology
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 11:44 PM UTC
I stumble as if intoxicated
But reek of agony instead.
Not even the strongest liquor
Could rinse you from my head.
While thinning the blood in my veins
My heart pounds to what you said.
Though I would rather you love me,
You would much rather be dead.
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 12:44 AM UTC
Alexandria, former lover,
though I knew you well.
Halls lined with books,
we memorised the details-
it was the meaning we forgot.
The river ran dry so long ago,
burned your books to the ground
and became the resting place
for men bearing gifts.
Learned the trade:
love in the modern age.
You took your fill,
left before you were dismissed.
Alexandria, you learned to open your legs,
blot out your heart,
endless doodles on a wet afternoon;
ear to the phone
in an empty room.
Need someone there to fill your time,
the day so long – crop so dry.
Wine in the evening,
your life-long amnesty.
We took to drink together
but you drank for yourself.
All those years of lost prudence,
all knowledge turned to ash.
Alexandria, your former glory,
the peace that will depart.
Entropy over your bed-side desk-
your habits always coloured your interests.
What happened to your monuments,
Your brick-by-brick
malaise
into being? Lost it to superstition,
found a religion and stuck to it-
the alibi of the thief.
You always fell beneath the sheets
at the first sign of winter,
every time you heard love
on someone’s tongue.
Alexandria, wordless chorus,
poetry in your movements.
Used to watch smoke
crawl into the fibres of your cardigan,
all studious and high in the garden.
Weeds came through the concrete.
The sun always seemed to be coming down.
Foxes looted the back-streets.
Took the same walk each day
in an attempt to bring down the walls.
All that is left of you is not mine.
You only ever belonged to yourself.
Alexandria, you sat in silence
whilst inducing men to sing.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 12:55 PM UTC
It's hard
to feel
when you're
addicted
to someone
It's hard
To breathe
In this cage
You dwell
Continuing on
Hopeless ends
Built upon
false confidence
When
Drunken minds
Speak
Sober thoughts
Of fantasies
In which
We are wrought
Lead me on
Twist my words
We won't be
'Til the truth
is heard
Dressed in false skins
of rusted metals
Acidic stings of
aimless love
It's why you pretend
You're someone else
It's hard
To love
In this cage
You dwell
Proeliator
One after
the other
A hopeless
cycle of
broken love
Anxious shivers
To shivered hopes
It's hard
to feel
when you're
hung by a rope
And in a
haze of
verdant green
I found you out
I tore down
the scene
A serpent to
my soul's
amnesty
It's hard
to feel
when you're
addicted
to someone
Someone else.
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 6:18 AM UTC