"appeasing" poems
*So tired of this feeling
so tired of just being
so tired of thy place
so tired of my face
so tired of frustration
so tired of humiliation
so tired of instant anger
so tired of constant hunger
so tired of feeble jealousy
so tired of peoples infidelity
so tired of running away
so tired of not knowing what to say
so tired of yo yo emotions
so tired of no go solutions
so tired of being tired
so tired of how my brain's wired
so tired of over thinking
so tired of sober drinking
so tired of appeasing obsessions
so tired of these possessions
so tired of saying no
so tired of staying home
so tired of praying alone
so tired of making excuses
so tired of feeling useless
so tired of restless nights
so tired of this pointless plight
so tired of facing fears
so tired or racing tears
so tired of panic attackss
so tired I can't relax
so tired of anxiety
I guess I'm just tired of me.*
Jun 18, 2016
Jun 18, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
You stand there noticing people other than me,
While I stand there facing my dull eyes toward you
I pass by noticing your warm scent
While I circumvent , you scented nothing
I listen to your deep, appeasing voice trying to capture it
While you stay there , and avoid it
Am I this invisible ?
Too invisible to be noticed by someone who I really tried to be noticed from?
I wonder, wonder about you , wondering if you're thinking about me too...
Realizing there is no chance.. because I really am invisible
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 6:23 AM UTC
I asked again but my hope refused to extinguish,
It smiled and told I had always been distinguished.
So, I kept checking my mail box even if it seemed lame,
I kept waiting and waiting but that Hogwarts letter never came.
Eleven progressed to twelve, twelve to thirteen,
Mistaken- I thought-they must have been,
Meanwhile I did my own reading and learnt all the curses,
And with the wand I never had I practiced all the verses.
First of September arrived again, and again, and again.
And with the years that passed, so increased the pain,
“So the age limit isn’t actually eleven!” then I optimistically thought,
“Oh! What a brutal test of patience they cleverly plot!”
Pictures in newspaper don’t move, brooms yet don’t fly,
And yes there are times that these thoughts make me cry,
“Hogwarts doesn’t exist”- Oh! These oblivious muggles continue to tell,
Deep down they are just jealous that they just can’t cast a spell,
“Well, can you?” they ask laughing and teasing,
Their voice brimming up with sarcastic appeasing…
“Not yet” I silently speak, “Just wait for days some...
My pretty little Hogwarts letter is just about to come.”
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 6:40 PM UTC
So over the last two hours,
I've been writing these poems
So I could stomach
My Spaghetti.
So I've been really sick lately,
I've lost a lot of weight
But I write these poems so I can eat
My Spaghetti.
Meanwhile,
I didn't realize that
I'm becoming less cold inside, but not
My Spaghetti.
After two hours,
My stomach is ready
For food that's no longer appeasing
My Spaghetti.
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 8:40 PM UTC
Celebrating an identity in a gender
Oh! The lipstick,
Oh! The spanx
To God I give thanks!
Being female,
What a blessing,
Even though, I've got to tell you,
These gender roles can be depressing
Nothing like dressing up for a date,
Don't forget, you must be royally late!
Pile on the mascara, concealer and lipstick
Hey mama, don't forget to pull down your dress a bit
You almost forgot to reveal your cleavage!
Please, by all means, empty that pretty little head of yours
Of any intelligence or reason
Girl, your only purpose is for a man's pleasing!
Now, get to that appeasing
You shouldn't be wasting all your time teasing.
Oh, mama, cry it out
Weep and pout
Gossip with your girls
Reject that pretty girl...
Who does she think she is, being naturally beautiful?
She doesn't deserve friends
If she needs support, she has an abundance of men who can pretend.
Go ahead now, pull up that mini skirt more
What do you think he's looking for?
Do you think he cares about your brain?
You're insane!
Do you think he treasures your heart?
Oh please, don't fall apart.
Do you think he'll still love you when you're old?
What, do you think men fall in love with your soul?
In celebration of being female
Let me spare you some advice
Love yourself with all you've got
And please, stop begging for it (love)
Stop showing your legs for it
If you cultivate dignity for yourself and
Love yourself
True love is guaranteed forever.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
Verdant eyes, translucent pearls
speak in silent witness,
wounds unfurl
meaning revealed,
interrupted girl.
Safe in solidarity
prolific eccentricity,
the scandal of particularity.
Pouting mouth
grief - filled lips
alluring, set sail a thousand ships;
tempt me to leave harbor.
Arousing euphoria as such,
resistance, amity and distance
amour sans touch
her sense of humor transcends,
appeasing the mind’s thirst
a vogue sultana,
seasoned swagger
hair resplendent flame,
alternating cool, black
asymmetrical coiffure;
nonconforming demure
the renegade metaphor -
singular for sure, no cure.
Muted vanity, bathos piercing
the jaded circumference of banality;
pale protagonist servitude
the sapient palaver of the urbane,
covered patina of pretense,
induced coercion,
the commodity self
appearing abased
wearing lesions of lassitude.
Artistic chattel - eminent domain
preempting genius,
subsidiary of consuming narcissism
external locus of control;
surrender to the tentative,
fettered pendant, Venus in chains
arrested visionary bane
sterile savant, edifice of pain.
The soubrette, dubious incarnation
gravid ingénue of prevarication
imperceptible venue -
theatre of the absurd;
withdrawn siren,
solitude of necessity -
skin - slender veil of shame,
nearness loitering redemption;
moments envisage
the appointment with the soul;
ambiguity eschews clarity
awareness; ineluctable anxiety,
imago - centric confession
sacred pardon, seraphic venation
intravenous textures presume,
the tactile margins of liberty.
Therapeutic retrieval,
Sanguine,
beneath the portico of
individuation;
Your smile I hear,
recovered autonomy
blessed emancipation,
The scandal of particularity;
peculiar treasure
ironically captured
film, canvas,
prose profundity.
Ciphering as an ambling book,
I peruse you,
rendered captive
hypnotic avant-garde fiction,
spectator of denuded opacity
analogous reflection, I Mirror you.
A modest proposal - pontificate the imperative,
forgo the disposal, adapt your narrative,
the scandal of particularity -
resonate the echo, cogitate our propinquity
Love, imagination and destiny.
©2008 & 2011 W.S Warner
Sep 9, 2011
Sep 9, 2011 at 1:20 AM UTC
I told the professor I loved beat literature and all the hippy consequences. He said they were such a small part of the population (along with Native Americans too apparently, he noted a different time. Because of what, you ******* I thought).
A pompous misguided thing, which either understandably or surprisingly, been teaching there since the 1960s. Five minutes of a winded attempt at putting anglophile humor into the lecture and you know the choice is "understandably" rather than "surprisingly." Been professing for the establishment, closed to other ways of thinking trickery.
A real square through and through. As if all change should come from appeasing the tyrannical bleachy supposed majority. Those in poverty, darker skins, gays, drug users, and all around flashy dressers ought to don suits for their one night Ed Sullivan performance. Get the folks on Bass Run Lane to be okay with seeing you in a glass cage in their living room scene. For just a couple decades. Then maybe they'll be used to seeing you in a grocery store. You'll always be laughable though, as they designed it to be so.
The hippies were a very small majority says the anointed professor.
"So were the suffragettes" snaps back a fiery thing sitting next to me. I should have talked to her more.
Aug 12, 2014
Aug 12, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
Can you see the precious releases as they dissipate
Inviting ardent admiration from us all
Appeasing the beseeching eyes of so many of us here
In the scattered dispersing of their fall
Such luminous wonders sustained by minute gestures
Of clarity in their mystical opaque releases
Appearing at first glimpse to stream from above
As if from the floodgates of secret places
A bountiful acclaim can be seen in the new animation
Of the recipients of these precious releases
As they blissfully absorb new life into their essence
Pleasing our eyes, with a beauty that never ceases
Jun 18, 2010
Jun 18, 2010 at 7:48 PM UTC
In this life
We have love
We may not have had
The passage of time together
The years of naivety
Youth or freshness of spirit
We have not caressed
Our younger bodies
Enjoyed the sanctity of being as one
When our skin was smoother
Our touch was softer
Our hearts were open to receiving
More congenially
A time when we may have
Chosen indiscriminately
This led us down a road that was
Perhaps
Right for the time
Yet now outgrown ~
The model of love
We have the maturity of mind
Still the tenderness of heart
Enjoying the ability to cherish
That which the Universe brings us
We have more complex bodies
That savors the relaxed
Appeasing, sensuality of **********
Remaining as a priceless work of art
Instead of the rushed; less intense
Inexperience youth often brings
We have each other in what will be
The ultimate love of its kind
The last known to us in this lifetime
Our twilight years, may come and go
But we have love that lives on
Forever recorded in history
The mistakes of the past rewritten
Because now, in this life
We truly found ~
The model of love
May 2, 2017
May 2, 2017 at 4:48 PM UTC
Foxy pumps
Visually inviting
Stimulus
Leather jeans
Objectively elevating
Yield
Indie jazz
Naturally circuits
Relish
Vivid suspense
Intellectually appeasing
Mar 17, 2012
Mar 17, 2012 at 9:41 AM UTC
A beloved friend enticed my senses
Appeasing whines with tasteful tunes
Awakening amour at heights of suspense
To serenade me as spry I shall swoon
Euphonies swallowed my bones
Delighted be I to ever have found
Divine obscure ways to atone
Ghastly memories quite profound
Triumph has monopolized tribulation
Along hollow skylines nimble she fleets
Colloquies spewing frost shan't stand elite
Taunted be grief by elimination
© 2012 (All rights reserved)
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 1:28 AM UTC
A new life granted
Glad to be starting over
Better days await
A totally free spirit
No longer so appeasing
Jul 18, 2010
Jul 18, 2010 at 7:37 PM UTC
I just wanna hold you closer than close... It's appeasing when I'm squeezing you when I need it the most. I would tell you about my day and how things aren't going my way. But none of that matters as long as you're here to stay... I've encountered the sweetest things on God's green earth. But nothing's as sweet as a woman who knows her worth... Can I hold you? Can I let go of everything else like I'm supposed to? Holding you may make my day better... You make my issues as light as a feather.. Everything is better when we are together... Just lay here in my arms.. When the weather is fair or even in a storm.. Just lay here.. If it's alright with you I'd rather you stay here... The Cuddle..
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 1:06 AM UTC
It began with my movement towards the heavenly substance,
Leading my way into a nostalgic trance.
Setting my boundaries, then flying out of limits,
Leaving my senses behind, to begin with my trips.
So now I wander over grounds of light, heat, sound and mist,
Provoking dreams that don’t exist.
A circus of lights where dreams can take flight,
To a carnival of variegated colors in sight.
Gallivanting in the forest of unreal existence.
Appeasing up-close and alluring at distance.
The vivid prism of rainbow like features,
Casting its charade on us, “The Euphoric Creatures.”
Harmonious melodies in our souls now play.
Intoxicated yet happy, and ecstatic yet gay.
Lost in the scenery made of light rays,
Leaving my astray to wander in my blissful daze.
The radiant vibes of every glowing and true soul,
Are mellow like flowers and intense like burning coal.
Fascinated me in various manner and means,
Taking my mind to classically bizarre scenes.
I am an “Errant Knight” of the tripping universe,
Delighted forever, no room for remorse.
Happy to be wandering on the grounds of light, heat, sound and mist,
Provoking me to believe something that doesn’t exist.
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 3:37 AM UTC
There's no doubt you're a lier
Just a boy who plays with fire
Not a fraction of desire
To aim any higher
There's no doubt I'm an inspiration
Playing on your broken-hearted situation
I could never cancel the operation
But from you, I never got an explanation
There's no doubt you're pleasing
Played with your heart, my hands are freezing
My mind in your hands, you're squeezing
But never would you be so appeasing
There's no doubt that I'm a cheat
With your soul with mine, we'll compete
You know I'll never admit to defeat
Even while I know we're bittersweet
There's no doubt that we're fighting
Our minds are colliding
Even though none of this is exciting
Your arms will always look so inviting
There's no doubt we like to pretend
That maybe I’m more than a friend
And you’re just a hand to lend
But everything has to come to an end
Theres no doubt you were a lover
Helping each other to recover
At 1 am, you’d make me shudder
Maybe theres time to rediscover
Nov 2, 2014
Nov 2, 2014 at 7:03 AM UTC
Are these tears of blundering laughter
or heckles of contempt
that spirit on these haggard few
to rhapsodise our era’s curtain calls?
They who brought us mounting debt and conscientiousness
which seems only to be healed in the appeasing fluorescence
of 24-hour supermarkets and the purgatory
of weekends spent at home?
Such stifling, nervous coughs
are head as responses of
today’s domestic questionnaires
Gung-ho reformative advances
and calls to “pull up our socks”
Mixed with the state-sponsored fortune-telling
Rationed out to boys languishing on the dole.
Which All falsely transpires,
intimidatingly revealed as being
About as appealing as vacuum cleaners for the soul
aimed at the resolutely bored to tears.
Despite our fears
the sun will come streaming again
through fresh fir trees
which decorate contemplative, sheltered lanes.
These last, frostbitten years
seek replacement with halcyon days
in order to suspend dogmatic disbelief.
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves:
Pessimism is ****
Even in the most roaring of times
we remained despondent and calculated.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:12 PM UTC
A beautiful place, filled with flora and greenery,
Where nature’s daintiness at its best you can see…
I sit by the roses, at my favorite spot,
Pretty much confused, lost deep in thought…
All around me are flowers and trees of every shape and size,
A kaleidoscopic foliage appeasing the eyes…
The rustic elegance forms a romantic view,
If only I could share the romance with someone I knew...
There’s a reason this place is called Cupid’s arrow,
Its to contemplate, and come to know,
If love has struck you,
And if that love is pure and true…
After which its for spending quality time with that special someone,
To pass love around and have some fun,
To fulfill your romance’s every desire,
And stoke your heart’s burning fire…
So I sit there, wondering, pondering,
About him, and if it was love he did bring,
He entered my life just a short while ago,
Until then who he was I didn’t in the least know…
That he likes me he has made it passively imperative,
And in certain subtle ways I find him attractive,
But do I truly love him? That I do not know,
And it is this answer I want Cupid’s arrow to show…
Whether by destiny, or by chance,
It was here that we had our first fling of romance,
All it was, was that we passed each other,
Each staring wistfully at the other…
But for these few fleeting moments time slowed considerably,
And I remember each moment, vividly…
How entrancing his brown eyes were,
Ad how the rest of the world became a blur…
And just as we were crossing each other, the blissful trees
Whispered romance through the pleasant breeze…
And rained a shower of flower petals on the two of us,
It seemed over our infatuation nature did dote and fuss…
Which is why I took this as a sign,
That maybe, maybe this guy could be mine..
My once chance at true romance,
I really want to take that chance…
But what if he were to break my heart,
What if cupid’s arrow tore me apart,
I’m smitten, but I’m not sure I love him,
Because hearts succumb easily to materialistic desire’s whim…
And what would happen to him, if it didn’t work out…
He too, would be heartbroken, no doubt…
I care too much to affect him in any way,
If anything happened I wouldn’t live to see another day…
So I sit wondering, whether I ever dare,
To even try and lay my heart bare,
Open up and confess everything,
Or just let it remain a fling…
All around me, nature portrays romance,
But love, it’s a double edged lance,
The trees are rustling again, I see him walking towards me,
I have to decide if Cupid’s arrow has struck righteously…
Nov 18, 2010
Nov 18, 2010 at 4:03 AM UTC
Maytime romance under the vernal lamp
of creation
Wrapped with invisible arms
Under the spell of sylvan charms
Appeasing lanes embellished-
with pink Begonia and baby-blue -eyes
Catalpa trees blushing in the marmalade sky
Strawberry thoughts , young lessons-
from green pinecones
Brandy freshwater branches fill river neighbor-
saplings
Nuthatch mothers sing of the day in sunflower gardens
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 2:01 PM UTC
Here are three hundred and seventy-one letters
write gibberish aimed at me.
We can warm up with haughty language,
cumulus white skies that brim with rudimentary quarrels,
as we watch an apprehensive apprentice appreciating an amateur.
Perhaps a devils activist entertaining a lawyer,
might spin supplementary lie- swathed webs,
Appeasing an imaginary stranger that whispers at night.
Liberate the unsheltered side,
In merely ten lines.
May 23, 2012
May 23, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
the road traveled is
often enough written in the eyes
just as the pattern of a leaf may tell the tree
but it will not lay bare to you
what dwells at its root
what you see in another persons eye
is only a reflection
and only you know what lay at the root of that
her fashionable neatness
suffers at the hand of hurried time
but she will not bend in her method
i cannot see into her thoughts
blinded by my own instincts to follow
to meet my woman's desire
just wanting my lover to be happy
we wrestle the sheets in the hot night
with the other woman joining us again
the three of us exploring eachother in hungry wet embrace
seeking the moments when the hot
rush of pleasure leaves you soaked with passions sweat
and waiting for the begin again of
the sweet play of caress and suckle
it is this third woman
whos dark eye i draw you to
for she is well known to me
we have shared a bed before
she is not a bad person
but i know what dwells
at the root of that
a bedroom of appeasing the cravings
of a woman's hidden angers
Dec 25, 2013
Dec 25, 2013 at 5:45 PM UTC
"Death's gaze ever present on it's tentacles
A weight of power unformidable
Crashing down upon its victims"
Beware the Kraken! A monster of seas
The one sung about in many shanties
Marauding, ripping, and crushing its victims
This a myth by which the crew schisms
But the unsteady seas beneath the hull
Bubbling and boiling, the ocean calls
Unleashing from the bowels of the deep
A beast of lost worlds, oceans it reaps
The Kraken, awaken, outstretches it limbs
The skies are blackened, the heavens dim
With tyrannical force he unfurls his power
The mast snaps, wood shards and splinters shower
Fearful men aboard are pulled to a watery grave
Oceanic law, for this crew of knaves
The last aboard the teetering deck
A captain standing tall within the wreck
Howling at the beast below
Again tentacles high above the sea grow
Dragging the wreckage into the water
Appeasing the beast, the great destroyer
May 10, 2010
May 10, 2010 at 8:46 AM UTC
Self Righteous indignation, separation, and a flare for othering
the man who strove to bridge the gap between himself and the world
made himself an island to be safe from the chaotic trade winds
Here, he felt, hell, he felt stronger than he was accustomed to
but this only tempered his approach
kept his destructive tendencies at bay
and filled his time
His ennui and his thirst for consequence
His self deprecation, his lust for power, his empathy unbidden
He knew of his own privilege, he knew other's pain was greater than his
He knew other's success, and had tasted glory in doses unsatisfying
He was meant to be satisfied with stagnation
and was tailored to disapprove of the play by play
but was forced to place bets on the rat race
and to have his mind occupied by symbolism
while he realized the cross was only two lines placed adjacently
He was forced to explain to his lover, what love means, and how to believe
What it meant, how it was, and why it was held in such high regard
He comforted an ailing cherub, watered her roots with his own excretions
For in appeasing her, he cut into himself
All he wanted was to be big enough, to cut himself down enough
that when he gave of himself, he could give what would have been his all
while still holding on to what could be all he was.
Aug 20, 2014
Aug 20, 2014 at 2:05 AM UTC
What care I, so they stand the same,—
Things of the heavenly mind,—
How long the power to give them fame
Tarries yet behind?
Thus far to-day your favors reach,
O fair, appeasing Presences!
Ye taught my lips a single speech,
And a thousand silences.
Space grants beyond his fated road
No inch to the god of day,
And copious language still bestowed
One word, no more, to say.
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