"antidotes" poems
so it is, so it be.
life granted me a boon, come to me, the honey.
not the merest of coating, but a power enrichened,
capable of driving out the slow acting, daily killing,
poisonous venom.
makeover, coverup of tears of ancient marriage-madness,
black swan hate disguise, her lies, venom injection of
coffee blood staining love pretense, now just scar tracks for a
new boulevard.
the slow pour, the golden russian amber intertwined tones,
tongue tasted, inside me now, revealed in slow exiting, beauteous,
mellifluous tears.
you dance with the stars, I watch you watching,
clueless that my thee-flavored tears, dance and pour down
my face.
destitute, nearer my God than thee, god blessed this child's life,
love gifted from sweet bees, late in life, flew from my computer screen and sonnet-stung me with antidotes of
love n' honey...
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 3:39 PM UTC
*is it like a feather
is it now or never
our faces are neglected
our souls are introspective
gravity collected
space and time dissected
water is our mother
the earth is our shelter
a blessed sacred elder
lilikoi is my favorite fragrance
tastes like innocence
and you must respect her
amazing feelings to select
the headwaters call collect
protect our sacred mother
dance upon the other
call upon the winds
feel them on your skin
remove the falling stones
that cover up your bones
rest in love unknown
concentrate until it is shown
phone calls steal our happiness
accidents dent our marriages
darkness is our daughter
streaks of light and color
falling stars kept captive
we plant them in our yards
keepers of the spark
sisters of the sparrow
made of light and yarrow
feathers flicker softly
all our woven glory
givers of the heart
singers of the dark
if you wish to hear them
make yourself a part
of the symphony
lifetimes of abandonment
oh so quick to fill you in
on all the tragic stories
what if we ignored them
and stayed present in this moment
filling up our cups
simple days spent with simple eyes
kindness supplies our alibis
respect is valued
like a stream in our hearts
we are dipped clean
threads of beauty
borrowed from the scarecrow
next lifetime you’ll become
another source of hope
ports of pleasure in our seas
forever we are feeling these
hopeless ropes tying up our antidotes
confounded sounds mounds of hope
stereoscopes and isotopes
poets freely speak
seek islands of wisdom
on stormy seas of chatter*
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 9:34 AM UTC
The urge to do nothing is overwhelming,
compelling.
I am motionless
I find myself halted.
Based upon a worry
a waiting
dominated by uncertainty.
I cannot go on
I stretch the mind
wander
wonder of antidotes
remedies delicious
in the knowledge
of their reduced life
span.
But not a cure.
Openings brighten despite me,
the ephemera of the street untouched,
lilting on its arbor
in its impetuous parade.
(I think)
I should not allow myself this dysania
in the spaces between moments,
lapses into stillness unforeseen.
In the warm response of wire
I ask for forgiveness.
Trapped in my own gaze,
it’s all I have.
(the purity of sorrow)
The floor pushes me skyward,
I run my finger’s tip around the edge of the afternoon,
Hope to god it rings out in response.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 3:32 PM UTC
The wind rushes past meand the sun is so bright that I can’t see.What is this madness before me? Have I gone blind? Why can’t I see?The sounds of spring and the smell of rain,the poisons of technology permeate my brain.Have I gone insane in the membrane? Or it this a dream? I am a fiend for caffeine.You are the cure I need, the antidotes to the poisonous seed that infects me constantly. Sleep consumes me, this world I soon must leave.I am stronger than the leaves in a stiff summer breezeor in a hurricane, I am the roots that remain, to be reborn constantly.Like the phoenix I will rise towards the sky tonight.Up into the atmosphere I will rise up highpiercing through the starless night, flying like a butterflyfloating upon the breeze, with weightless eases I lay atop the trees.Why do the clouds fly by as if they are on a highway in the sky?Could they stop for a while, so I might bring one downto take a nap upon its bed of feathers made of air.I’ll climb the tallest tree, and jump out upon the sea,of cotton ***** of gas that float like a tumbling massof constantly moving poetry.I’ll nap atop the trees.2oo5-
Feb 21, 2010
Feb 21, 2010 at 9:48 AM UTC
.
and your mug shot's shining through
it's a vision true (but the subject's taboo)
all ugly here
morning sunshine breakfast table autumn cool
you're poised to speak a fly lands on your lolling spoon
then i stand up merry
i make my vital move the table backs away distressed
your eyes raise
i flop open my faminous mouth and let the fumes draw in
Surprise !
(no time for you to hold surplus breath -
- form an expression - make any objection)
mechanism disjoints like the raw riches
i whip the plumb weight of my head and strike
mouth-chomp-grip over your scalp
and i am working you in
with swift jaw shifts and hingery
i **** on you with a smile and gullet
(past photos of you shuffle glaucous before my inner eye)
yap sock muscle i operate gumming on your head
(ours was the world ; we got so lazy)
budging in your hair dampened by my saliva
(our timid first meeting at a bar)
and airway and my teeth softly folding back
(us in bed-us in bed-us-in-bed)
and whole hog jaw agog
(the tourist we made as a couple)
i dilate and distend crouch low to take your weight
(the rise and falter of your sleeping chest)
upend your hands panic typing in the air
(the eyes of your investment in me)
your feet flinging the heft back and forth
your shoulders break in and forward folding
my chest cracks and wells
(gifts we gave that touched heart and others that fell short)
a complete engulfing meal of you
(your childhood antidotes and teenage feelings we discussed)
down my soft disposal
(all my memories of us in a fizz
and all the inaccuracies)
...and then i head off to hibernation
ferrying an idea that ' i have you now '
that perhaps you were my enemy
all this time
and i am digesting the beast
(what a feast !)
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 9:39 PM UTC
Im tryna
Build a house of gold
But its a straw world, where dey
Freely give diseases and sell antidotes
World, INC.
Commercialised population control
No sovereign man, no sovereign state
Big Bank make the rules
The police are corporate agents
And prisons are big business
Under a government
That's been bankrupt for a century
My straw man is a Trust,
"MY NAME" in all caps on a certificate
As a Citizen
My assets, labour, and energy
Was promised as commerce to back this fictional entity
The fight is perpetual as long as we concede with this system
Really,
Is suicide escape or submission?
Wana vow to my people
To be there when they awake but its hopeless
*** in the near and distant future
I can see no changes
Fake smiles as a hypocrite
And all I can do is injustice
As long as I accept it
Is Man the peak of expression,
And is samsara his polarity?
In a non-meta way I aint happy
Oct 1, 2020
Oct 1, 2020 at 5:02 PM UTC
should she have
thrown her wish at the stars
or down a well?
her hair in cigar smoke ringlets
her eyes were the guinness
the journey, her passion
the boy, her poison
the liffey winked with antidotes
black glass with white lights
why do rivers mock the sky?
her hair in her vision
her voice in a bird cage
a swan on a sailboat
not a soul on the ferry
on another coast
amid the day before
and the one that followed
seafoam clashed with clouds
came full circle
as her favorite dead end
she raised
then rolled
her eyes
blue waves with gray wisps
why do skies mock the river?
she didn't go over
nor to the end
she just went against the grain
of the rainbow
only she could spot
and then
she stuffed her hands into her pockets
and
she threw her wish
away
Mar 31, 2018
Mar 31, 2018 at 11:01 PM UTC
Poetry is surely the finest wine
Its words most lavish *****
You get drunk with every line
By the end all sense you lose!
There’s no wine to cast more spell
Whiskey ***** gin or ***
So long in it your thoughts dwell
Soul suffers blessed delirium!
Ecstatic is the poetry’s fizz
The froth at the mouth of nib
Gushing out of passion unleashed
The kick with each falling drip!
Poetry is among the best antidotes
When I crave a drink or two
I inject its overwhelming shots
Pains melt to moistened dew!
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 7:20 AM UTC
The poison of my expectations
immunized my body systems
creeping in the veins a shot
of disappointments, frustrations
I cannot keep setting myself up this way
Antidotes are not the cure. Nothing can remedy
the syrup of downfalls encroaching my liver
the gates are closed.
You can’t hurt me anymore.
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 7:58 PM UTC
XVII
My poet, thou canst touch on all the notes
God set between his After and Before,
And strike up and strike off the general roar
Of the rushing worlds a melody that floats
In a serene air purely. Antidotes
Of medicated music, answering for
Mankind’s forlornest uses, thou canst pour
From thence into their ears. God’s will devotes
Thine to such ends, and mine to wait on thine.
How, Dearest, wilt thou have me for most use?
A hope, to sing by gladly? or a fine
Sad memory, with thy songs to interfuse?
A shade, in which to sing—of palm or pine?
A grave, on which to rest from singing? Choose.
1.3k
Let it be noted,
That the things you use to clean your messes,
Cannot be used to clean the mess in your mind.
Let it be remembered,
That poisons have never worked against poisons,
But then again, neither have the antidotes.
Let it be known,
That being numb for a while,
Doesn't make you invincible.
Let it be written in final print,
That you needn't read between the lines,
If it is repeated several times.
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 10:48 PM UTC
Intrepidly neglected, of my lessened reasoning, I am dissected, of my insurrection, from the blessed beens of yesteryear's glints, dancing, parading, and burning, in layers, stages, and fazes, fading, and melting, the plastic faces into the smelting heap, that has come so far, just to inspire me.
Always.
Always you unto me, spiraling, indefinitely into the deep, where ceased is the times, with bloodied hands, and laugh lines, laughing one last time, while glancing toward my watch, under setting suns, and rising stars, smiling faces, and in tearful goodbyes, i realise
The sky's limitlessness
And in all the glory, and all the bliss, the eloquent stories, and the gentle drifts, my imagination uplifts, in wisps of gentleness, where i submit to reason.
Bless-ed be, the one who garners to my support, from a vortex of euphoric antidotes, of mindless quotes, and animated emotes, pulsed, from straight faces, and lost hope.
Ill tell the truth, you can go with nope, in whispered breaths of gun smoke, lathered in lith-dope.
Just trying to cope with the flow, until i crash upon the shores of nevermore, and, explore these holes in my soul intent, ascending from the contempt of bent perspectives, and twisted concepts, letting the blood of the peasant from my arms of harmony, trembling blankly to sleep.
To you a ***** to me tranquility, as i sink, into the world i knew, so that it may be seen, casing the well being, of all the things, and pixelated dreams, from a thieves keep.
Deep, down, below me, in obscurity, i seep, through the soil of my turmoil, until my hand reaches out, from beyond my doubts, and clambers from the shadows, outside of myself.
I am born, of mud, of muck, of the stuff, you're afraid of, and all i bare is love, love to shrug the shams astray, vacating the placation, and dichotomies, unifying light, into one me, shining in the rainy streets, of my deletion
Until my completion
Completely
Erases me.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 1:41 AM UTC
crude words written on the tablets
cheats stuffed in the ballots
swirling glass of wine until
the ballet is the her only talent
threw a challenge at the mountain
revenge was her mask
snakes became antidotes
poison in the flask.
evil ingenuity staring off line
stripping the magnetic links
my sphinx, a catatonic palace
crooked vowels, my larynx torn shut
fruits become evil when love turns malice.
racing with the moment
speeding within the second,
her lips crashed on the cave of my chest
blessings turned to lessons
extremities that matched my thoughts
only wore them on the weekend
dressed in perfection
i ****** out her mind,
deemed it a weapon.
May 28, 2013
May 28, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC
The ineffaceable stain
Allegorical refrain
Dictates the wily antidotes for a newfound sane
They hector from a distance
Muted but militant resistance
magical hobgoblins the lifeblood of their persistence
Heterodoxy enters the stage
Cognizant of ignominy, a potent repressed rage
Succor sought, corporate media bought
A pyrrhic limelight is certainly not what was sought
I defer to dignified exemplars
I confer with callous company at vapid bars
Concluding thereby the inverse proportionality of authenticity to success
The articulations of divinity imply rigidity
sweltering soul burgeoning with light sweating an evanescent humidity
If blind before, partial and total sight reconstitute the core
omnipresent paparazzi deplores
Past pities insuperable even with pithy witty
Future pieties irrelevant to ineradicable ignominy and purported dignity
Cupid and cupidity must be related
because gold-diggers alerted to my fair share would be elated
Begrudged at every tick, tantalized by a slow torture lurid flit
I cast my ambitions into the fathomless depths
I amass provisions for a restive hibernation, enduring schlep
Redemptive powers yet articulated
Should ease the prospects of being matriculated
But is cloistered suffering an inexcusable plight
When the deep coffers derelict a modest gesture of making grievous inequities once again right?
Must I swim to distant shores
Past the barnacles beneath and the urchins on submerged sand, very sore
Landmines at the beach, pantomimes and their garbled preach
Past scattershot invective fortified by intransigent misers of conscience, the balmy resort out of reach.
Bleak bleats, meek feats, good eats
I think it is about time for a tyrannical psychology to let me off the incapacitating leash, letting me focus on actions rather than on incomprehensible speech
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 7:49 PM UTC
Written shots come in all shapes and sizes,
Size matters like size six, eight or fourteen.
Fortune braver the first line alternates the second so on so forth.
What becomes sizeable?
What's your size?
Little antidotes from a measured eagle size flies,
Weighs it all up from a prolific mind blasted out its circumference,
Two lines make three so on so forth.
In size short or long corridors open left and write,
Rooms of poetic justice words escape its meaning of pride,
Trying to connect its versatility,
Weighing up all its options to a third eye so on to the forth.
High five thinking outside a sizeable box,
A perfect band meets five,
Your five a day fruit flavoured squashed for you,
Drinking your rainbow colours that your taste buds acquire,
For then be hit for six.
Six like **** curves figure dressed up in silk hanged up with a second coat,
There's a cat amongst the pigeons,
A cricket high score,
A winner catches it all out from a wicket duck 0.
A severed chase far from Devon.
Sailing on the seven seas on a ocean boat ride reach so wide,
Beckoning on a horizon with the world looking so flat but at your feet,
Never reaching the edge just for evermore,
No deck of cards would collapse or fall from this fate.
My great mate who I now hate as late as it goes round and round in a figure of speech,
Rate this of the eight wonders of the world,
Paradise monuments globalisms tournaments under and over a bridge we go and we go.
Nine I'm not taking no for an answer, upside down to the left six had it all,
Too much size from those verses,
Saliva grown twitch es,
A centre forward scores a goal,
The last but not least single number,
Einstein a rocket launch..
For then ten let it be impeccable when circling around next to its dolby one den,
Fur marks of a Lion gathered round a pack of clubs five odd and five even,
Doubled up figure of been odd but really been even Steven or maybe roughed up down in Nuneaten nine mine.
O'Reily@15112014
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 10:11 PM UTC
The taste left by the bitterness of anger
unlike that which is caused by over-indulgence
cannot be forced away by milk of magnesia
but by humility, understanding and forgiveness.
Oft times it is humility which leads to
a thoughtful understanding which in turn promotes
feelings of forgiveness that are quietly kept
but which serve as unspoken personal antidotes.
But what elation when normal calmness returns
to fill the soul with so much joy and peace
If anger serves to do nought else – then appreciate
that pleasantry which follows the ire’s release.
©Joe Wilson – I was angry, but it passed 2014
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 4:53 PM UTC
Autumn.
How do you charm?
Is it the pretty leaves?
Perhaps, it's the popular color?
Maybe the unique smell?
It truly is the season of change.
Past loves revisited in waves of seasonal aroma.
A sense of urgency from the changing colors.
The frailty of the fallen leaves.
A hint of impending doom.
Though, gently the wind grazes.
Warmth echoing through the chills.
Some antidotes heal with the passing of time.
Preparing us to mentally brave winter.
Reflecting inward, changing outward.
Hope; maybe.
Motivation to work hard.
Endlessly, to find our way.
Pick up what we can and move on.
Recollections of the good, the bad, and the old.
Noble as time flows.
Ultimately, honorably ending.
Another chance, another year.
Different colors, different smells.
Accomplishments and failure.
It's all the same in the end.
Withering, until spring.
Life fights a way through.
Meeting us on the other side.
Reborn again.
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC
*An ocean bleeds
Through the spaces
Of my tremulous fingers
I taste decaying sentiment
Tucked beneath ritual
Adrift in reverie, still
Ruptured by the hand of fate
The outskirts of a worn out aria
Cosmic wasteland, lost
Treading backwards
Aftermath of visceral escapism
Faux antidotes
Once veiled in promise.*
Aug 19, 2016
Aug 19, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
Nuit noire mais belle de Malaga
Empoisonne-moi
De tes hamecons et de tes leurres
Envenime-moi
De tes vers luisants et polissons
Qui gigotent dans le vin du clair de lune
Instille-moi de tes piqûres, de tes ourlets
Des criquets qui chantent au fond de tes criques
Innocule-moi
Tes vaccins, tes rappels et tes antidotes
Cachés au creux des terriers
Des mangues et des câpres qui mûrissent
Sous tes obscènes caresses.
Obsède-moi
De la froidure romantique de tes rhums capiteux
Muselle-moi dans la cannelle de ta souricière
Bâillonne-moi de tes eaux de Styx
Engloutis
Capture
Relâche
Aspire-moi de tes yeux de khôl
Je ne suis qu'étincelle
Infime brindille incandescente d'amour
Dans l'attente fébrile du point du jour.
Sep 14, 2019
Sep 14, 2019 at 5:41 AM UTC
it's just a welcome distraction...
that's all it is... modern art
is an act of: being distracted...
i do agree that it's in the bin
when compared to the renaissance
aesthetic...
but then translate that appreciation
of the beautiful... and you
get an immediate counter:
***********
**** shaming and the rest of it...
evidently my contemporaries can't
appreciate beauty...
we need welcome distractions...
it's called: re-evaluation!
i know it's just a canvas
with a black square painted onto it...
but i've been having restless nights
while roofers are refurbishing my roof
and i've been waking too early for
my pleasure... i blamed it on spring
at first, and then i was like: huh?!
oh right... there's some ******* banging
a nail into wood on my roof...
like today... there's a lot of mess on
the mini roof outside my window...
and then there's this block of "artificially"
glued-together clippings of wood...
and i'm looking at it with my sunglasses on
and thinking... hirsch... hirsche...
gonna bake me a' apple pie...
(' = h) -
so there they are, doing the roof
and i notice all the mess outside my window...
and i spot this thing glaring back at me...
it's a piece of wood that's been made
into a blank from all the offcuts...
but the patterns on it are like
a kaleidoscope... it really is what modern art is
truly about: a welcome distraction ****
it really stinks of the building site... i'm
not going to keep... out the window it goes
from where it came) -
(the current background) -
but it's a welcome distraction...
it has to be, that's why modern art
isn't **** - but it's an antidote to adversiting
that has become so "artistically" infectious -
modern art isn't **** per se, it's so simple
because the "art" of making an advert is
so ****** psychopathically complex!
variations of a forest.
this be one: the digital complex
regarding where paper came from... the ******* trees!
now they're saying: paper doesn't grow on
trees... sure... but it's imbued in the bark.
p.s.
i tried to forget her, she introduced me to
in extremo...
i had to find antidotes...
akin to: corvus corax, garmarna... etc.
Mar 28, 2017
Mar 28, 2017 at 10:47 AM UTC
To die peacefully at old age
Is a fortunate privilege indeed
It's quite heartbreaking to see
The suffering, as the purries we feed
When soul snatchers are summoned
To collect the soul
Their arrival does alarm
There are no bright lights but clouds of coal
The heartbeats jump and ****
At times the eyes open too wide
When it's time to go,
You can not repel or hide
I wish they go silently in their sleep
The much torture of the epidemic diagnose
And the so called cure antidotes
While everything is fed through tubes in nose
The nights become much darker
To welcome the path to the death valley
How I wish, we could give our lifelines
To the ones we are so close to very
Just for them to live a bit more
How I wish, I had a genie lamp
To grant the wishes for green health
And erase all that is meek and damp
Here I sit in the hospital,
By my mom's bedside
Out of five critical admits,
Four have lost their loved ones side
Tho, the life seems numbered
It is my mom that got through the night
Tears after tears I break silently
So long for the will to fight
I pray hard and ask God
To spare her for sometime
Just a little more
To see her precious everlasting smile
I don't know how I will pull through
As I am just a small canoe
Trying my best to shore the wrecked ship
O' there is so much, left to do
The night owls hoot over the roof
Not a good sign I guess
As I dismiss the negative feelings
Coz within me, my brain is a mess
There are many more things going on
Everywhere in this world
Time flies, and loved ones gone
Expiry their dates, and so are called...
©sim
Mar 3, 2018
Mar 3, 2018 at 2:10 AM UTC
antidotes become a long walk home
after leaving everything you used to know
the swaying trees speak in tongues through leaves
and roses become chloroform
tied to a a mast i'm set to outlast
sirens on horizons, harmony intact
this boat becomes a home for everything still unknown
as the hull breeches from impact
can't complete what i'll never believe.
been forced to deny what makes sense to me.
and while the tired are now wired, and begging to flee
i'm still addicted to whats worst for me
Mar 14, 2012
Mar 14, 2012 at 10:29 PM UTC