"applauding" poems
Red alluring dress
Wearing a woman.
***** back:
Red versus black, -
Designers applauding.
I envy God
Not power, but the vision.
Quivering eyelashes will
Furbish the ***** feet
Smelling of Mother - - -
Let's get acquainted.
After all
Man's longing
Is measured by
Heels
Jun 20, 2014
Jun 20, 2014 at 8:18 AM UTC
Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot,
Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off
Before it has a chance to go two blocks,
At Colonel McComsky Plaza. Berth's Garage
Is on the corner facing west, and there,
Most days, you'll find Flick Webb, who helps Berth out.
Flick stands tall among the idiot pumps-
Five on a side, the old bubble-head style,
Their rubber elbows hanging loose and low.
One's nostrils are two S's, and his eyes
An E and O. And one is squat, without
A head at all-more of a football type.
Once Flick played for the high-school team, the Wizards.
He was good: in fact, the best. In '46
He bucketed three hundred ninety points,
A county record still. The ball loved Flick.
I saw him rack up thirty-eight or forty
In one home game. His hands were like wild birds.
He never learned a trade, he just sells gas,
Checks oil, and changes flats. Once in a while,
As a gag, he dribbles an inner tube,
But most of us remember anyway.
His hands are fine and nervous on the lug wrench.
It makes no difference to the lug wrench, though.
Off work, he hangs around Mae's Luncheonette.
Grease-gray and kind of coiled, he plays pinball,
Smokes those thin cigars, nurses lemon phosphates.
Flick seldom says a word to Mae, just nods
Beyond her face toward bright applauding tiers
Of Necco Wafers, Nibs, and Juju Beads.
8.4k
"I LOVE LOVE!" She shouted, speaking to herself in third person.
It was then that she seemed to float away
A balloon on Macy's Day.
*It seemed I was the only one orbiting earth,
watching those performances of daily life applauding
for a well-flipped omelet a superbly
fitted glove a full tank of gas at $4.00.*
I couldn't believe my luck
Terrestrially, there were husks sipping coffee
and rasping and rustling at each other
desiccated.
Privately, she was buying real estate on the moon
I LOVE LOVE! she shouted
Dancing like an egg on a spray of water
a declassified military satellite who through some dumb luck
had escaped the pull of gravity and won
Marveling at the moon rock
on her finger, even a stubbed toe just seemed
like the ideal opportunity for extorting kisses.
And it glinted in the light.
Everything was fine.
*Down on earth it seemed all the wine drinkers
were toasting to us cheering as we terra formed
the moon.* ***We couldn't believe our luck
as we rolled back our stone.***
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 10:07 PM UTC
*Rains lashing down
The thunderous clouds
Applauding every drop
The clouds have opened up
Their hearts to bring hope
To the parched souls on Earth
The seeds have been lying dormant
It’s time for them to germinate
Covering our garden with greenery
For it will find roots in the soul
Deeply entrenched with belief
That every shower does not wreak havoc
It also ushers new life and hope*
© Amitav (Radiance)
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
They will be applauding me when I do the unspeakable.
Looking at the lifeless soul in front of me. Do they know something I don’t? Why does their gaze make me feel special?
You have figured it out, you are the chosen one, just like us. This is exactly what you had to do to win the game.
Routine is the answer but routine makes me spiral.
‘’The deities of running water let her hair flow’’ I read somewhere.
As simple as that.
Read between the lines my teacher said.
Go outside and chain smoke some cigarettes, it's not worth thinking like that.
But why am I confused when I see my body move… They don’t understand.
They will be applauding me when I do it.
You have figured it out, this is exactly what you have to do.
I'm so sorry you feel this way she said. I was expecting some recognition, while she hugged me with pity. No need.
Being really good at chain-smoking cigarettes, so I will.
As simple as that.
Read between the lines my teacher said.
No one applauds me.
.
Nov 21, 2022
Nov 21, 2022 at 9:18 AM UTC
Everyone talks about depression as if they know it.
They talk about it as if depression sweeps them in its arms that they are so used to it.
They talk about it, but never realise that they have mistaken their sadness for depression.
But don’t they know that depression is not sadness? Depression is not crying?
Depression is that shadow that only sticks to you when you are happy and in a bright place, and would refuse to let go of you until you are in the dark, embracing it.
Depression is that hard smack you get across the face when you are laughing with your friends, that leaves you in shock for a few seconds until you realise that no matter how hard you laugh and no matter how many happy tears you have shed, you are still empty. You are still a mess.
Depression is that anaesthetic you get when you are in pain, that leaves you in a ***** tub facing a hateful mirror eying that razor and begging God that you have the strength to feel, only to be able to move a limb and make your delicate skin meet the crude razor. But you still fail. Because you aren’t sad. You aren’t wretched. You are empty. You are numb.
Depression is that exhaustion that is in love with your body and jealous of your anxiety so it always picks a fight with it. When you are spending time with anxiety and trying your best to get your work done but feeling as if it is not good enough so you try and try, depression bursts in and pleads that you come with it. And you do. You go back to bed, wrap your cold blanket around you and trace the cracks in your gloomy ceiling, watching your life flash right in front of you and you can’t do anything about it.
Depression is that smile that is planted on your face when you have written a perfect ****** poem on your skin using your favourite razor, that makes you trace your shaking fingers over it feeling so proud of your poem. Feeling so proud because your blood that is seeping out is applauding you and telling you that you wrote a perfect piece.
Depression is getting into an argument with the one you love the most but once they reach the edge and start saying what is meant to be hurtful words, your only response is silence because you know your feelings are not valid and your words are full of ******** So you keep it in. You never open up and you never let them know how hurtful they could be.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 2:36 AM UTC
Fingers make contact with hands,
we can’t stand like,
butter
flies
on
a
tree branch
amidst a strange wind.
Fluttering above
trees rooted in sidewalks,
out of sight.
And it feels like
the texture of our shirts
is truth,
the cat fur,
the bed sheets,
our clenched teeth,
Molly whispers in our head
a meditative melody,
and we’re rollin,'
our infinite eyes
hung together
in widened silence,
enjoying a good lie.
Indigo children
with no words, just hands,
applauding the feeling,
dreading the end.
Time past,
grown up,
deflated,
we come down
to see that
sober is just
categorizing
adjectives.
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 6:30 PM UTC
the new tupac will have you too walkin with gangstas
the new two stupidity now two steppin with prankstas
murked the first one sayin he's blacker the berry
when i'm sweeter than juice
bass voiced top me if you want to experience that jacked tweeters induced
when i own all of Victoria's secrets as proof
tellin me what the body when all his deducement has him actin when he's wearin his shoes
crypt walking like that it's only talk
missed balking like has bass fits jocking as his only walk
******* with me when All Hailed Mary like if she was his when is only stolen balk
I'm walkin again the gauntlet cuz all the women they want this flauntin all **** like if i was jackin all the wanted
like ghost whippin me imma follow you till i'm haunted
pain really, so bow down, when my diamonds glisten
listen again is just as well bilateral biased has his confused his like the ol' eminem was in the new form gettin his face jacked again
like me smokin crack with friends like all given enemies stressed was all given was a race black and then
we actually are the same race like i knew you back like i owned all the streets like his females thuggin as heathen
**** riding i'll **** your *** up like settin me up when i'm always the last muthafucken breathin
exposing the ***** heathen breathin like if you were the only man catching bullet rounds exposed like the new you was still alive
to the next ** hiked my socks up construed you at hit stupidity when will ride
ghettos owned by just the black reppin when you're steppin the whack, honest it was just onyx
i'll blast your *** like if you stole my pump shotty:
like i never was wanted runst follies
anamoly run has all criminal cops all fathering fun deceiving that all to gain was never greed when all greed in need bothering sons:
all you still down with me when we ride it
looking like a *** while i'm guy gee stag when you're looking into their eyes, they'd know comparison of a bird control as if fathering guys
my knowledge is flight applauding the time, are you still down with me
i hide behind the love of beauty of my womens eyes when you're looking like the female opened you up to your face compared to opening thighs
they don't know like how you stare in the future that tommorow comes only after the dark
knowing me marks the coming of the actual god
I am "unconditional heart"
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
We blame society for everything.
We fault magazines for turning innocent teenage girls
Into anorexic beauty queens.
We point fingers at the paper thin actresses on TV screens
For bringing bulimia victims to their knees,
Two fingers down their throat as they cough up that last bit dinner,
Along with the guilt and shame that comes with it.
We blame society, but we are society.
Who wrote those magazines?
Who created the ridiculous standard that you can only fit in
If your bones are showing through your skin?
Hunger is just a feeling; thin is a skill.
Your stomach isn’t growling because you’re starving.
No! It’s applauding you on a job well done,
On another day of nothing but celery sticks and diet coke.
Who cares if all of your hair falls out?
Who cares if you get dizzy every time you stand?
Who cares if the desire to be thin and meet this sick standard of beauty
Is slowly killing you, taking another piece of that innocent teenage girl
And turning her into a skeleton?
We, as a society, don’t care.
The magazines won’t stop printing
Because another high school kid got carried away.
Extreme, even deadly diets are a thing of today,
And yes, yes, they’re here to stay.
Sometimes eating healthy and exercising just aren’t enough.
Desperate times call for desperate measures,
And under this kind of pressure,
It’s hard not to give in.
Jun 4, 2013
Jun 4, 2013 at 7:09 PM UTC
Have you ever seen a night sky so clear;
So clear that there’s not even a sign of the moon’s existence?
Well, I’m under one right now
The street is empty and the darkness is silent
No rustling of leaves or bushes,
No hums of crickets singing in chorus
Window drapes are down
And they’re all black instead of yellow
Streetlights are the only source of light
And that telephone booth standing steadily alone on the corner
Hands inside my hoodie’s pocket, I go in it
I pick the phone up and started dialing a number
When suddenly all the lights go out
In a blink of an eye, and the world is in total darkness
Everything is quieter than ever
Then the wind comes whooshing
The thunder begins applauding
The lighting started like camera flashes
Raindrops as big as golf ***** fall from the sky
And the way they hit the roof of the booth,
I almost believe they’re as heavy
Inside the booth I still get wet from all the sweat
Then, as if on cue, the storm dies
Quietness floods again
The booth light flickers but that’s all
Streetlights never come back
Hesitating for a moment, I slowly go out
I look up and the sky isn’t just a black canvas anymore;
It’s now filled with blots of white ink
Glittered to life
I kick the waters not yet ****** up by the drains
I look at how calm they are
Mirroring the beautiful night sky painted
I can definitely say I’m top and under the cosmos
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
You are the pure soul of 5 year old girl
awed by the infinity of the starry sky.
You are the poetry that I humbly try to translate into words.
The scent of your neck intoxicating my senses,
The bad girl tempting one to sin the sweetest sin of all.
The magic number of our passion, old Chinese symbol that finally
reveals its truth.
Sweet flirt and ***** thoughts,
Eyes and eyelashes,
The fear of my fears.
A forest baby doe scared and confused
in the jungle noise of animal screams,
The idol in my dreams
My thoughts are like butterflies landing on your ******* your neck, your back, fluttering up and settling on the bottom of your tattoo, crawling below…
the texture of your soft skin and the hairs on your legs standing on their end.
You are the Flamenco music that I can’t listen to anymore, the guttural songs linking us to our primal ancestors, drums and clapping like the whole world applauding for you and me.
The love chart that tells it all.
The day you held my hand, in front of fifteen hundred people,
And the most beautiful scene,
alone in the cinema stall, touching an irresistible image imprinted in your mind.
Transparent lies that make me smile,
temptations away, the love that we seek where we can’t find it – sweet irony of life.
You are the punishment you beg for being a bad girl,
Your risks, masochistic game that makes you feel alive,
a life feeling like running fingers through hot coals.
Your unrestrained dialogue with your sub-conscious,
painful and rich,
open window into your soul for the magician to read it.
The power outside me and you that has connected loose threads of our hearts, the Yin and Yang clashing and meshing like two birds becoming one.
You, wild beast unafraid to devour yourself and your pray at the same time, fearless, insane, addictive.
The dream of holding hands.
February 2, 2013
Aug 26, 2023
Aug 26, 2023 at 11:15 AM UTC
We set out to honor Mary
traveling the pilgrim's path from west to east
We walked, we rode the bus
entertained and enchanted by Cristina
applauding Ramon along the way.
Each day was one of prayer and song, sunshine and fellowship
rosaries and novena
we submitted petitions to Santiago
we laughed with San Serapio
From the grand and magnificent cathedrals
to the humblest village chapel
we grew in faith, hearing God's word in many languages.
We marveled at the dedication and stamina of the pilgrims
making their way on foot and bicycle
at the warmth, generosity, and hospitality
they receive along the way
We picknicked alongside mountain streams
enjoying good food, good wine,and good friendship
we walked down the hillsides in the hot sunshine
passing the pilgrims going the opposite way
we quenched our thirst in a quaint and rustic village tavern.
Ramon drove with skill up the mountains to Garabandal
a remote village suspended in time and beauty
there on the mountain top we sat among the pines
where Mary had appeared.
We sat in silence, in awe and reverence
the only sounds, the whisper of the breeze and the cowbells on the hillside
We prayed the rosary
It was, for most of us, a most special memory
From our bus we looked out at the mountains
the green and rolling farmland
at the rocky Atlantic coast
at the rios and the rias.
We walked in procession at Fatima and Lourdes
by candlelight and moonlight
and again in the brilliant sunshine
The voices and the church bells
carried across the plazas
enveloping us in joy and prayer and mysticism
It was at the grotto at Lourdes
with my hands pressed on the rocky cave wall
with the holy water on my hands
that I felt Mary's presence
Mary, my mother, my sister, my friend
AVE MARIA
September, 2008
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
I want to learn to whistle
Like my daddy did.
I wanted to learn it since
I was a little kid
You know, you put two fingers
Just inside your lips.
No, not the whole fingers
Just the very tips.
With that kind of whistle
I could stop a fight
Or call a taxi to me
On a rainy night.
I could whistle while applauding
Let performers know
Whatever they were doing
I enjoyed it so.
It works well during sports
Like a referee’s call.
The way I whistle nobody
Would hear it at all.
If I had a doggie I could call him
Then I whistle really loud
And he would come running
I would be so proud.
And of course I could tell
Somebody walking by
That they were pretty hot and
They had caught my eye.
But if I try to do that now,
They have to be
Not further than a couple
Of feet from me.
You’ve heard that kind of whistle
In shows on your TV.
I wish that kind of whistle
Could come from me.
So, I wish I could whistle
Like my daddy could.
Maybe someday I will learn.
Knock on wood.
Dec 2, 2015
Dec 2, 2015 at 9:07 AM UTC
Applauding youths laughed with young prostitutes
And watched her perfect, half-clothed body sway;
Her voice was like the sound of blended flutes
Blown by black players upon a picnic day.
She sang and danced on gracefully and calm,
The light gauze hanging loose about her form;
To me she seemed a proudly-swaying palm
Grown lovelier for passing through a storm.
Upon her swarthy neck black shiny curls
Luxuriant fell; and tossing coins in praise,
The wine-flushed, bold-eyed boys, and even the girls,
Devoured her shape with eager, passionate gaze;
But looking at her falsely-smiling face,
I knew her self was not in that strange place.
2.2k
To applauding of the stars
the pleasing sight of God
Mesmerising were the words spoken on
to have loved, to have once been in love.
To as a Queen; ruling my heart
she—black beauty, as the blanket dark of
night; filled in angel’s stars.
Mystic dust, upon the early virtue of time.
To have loved so young.
To have tasted a fruit of passion
minor still, but a major experience
That which is in present, a memory entangled
in my dreams. I’m restless,—
As my lips quiver of a then long before
Longing presently; ‘verly for more
As so—how could I ever forget...
forget the first I kissed a girl!
Aug 4, 2022
Aug 4, 2022 at 4:55 AM UTC
"Every time I look into a mirror I see the eyes of the devil".
The perpetual flame of life
A new dawn, an enlightening dusk;
The translucent sun
The convection of eternity,
Abysmal adversary,
The convocation of co-eternal legions!
''Every time I cry I see the face of God".
Influencing twilights perfection,
Hells paradise devouring
The ardent fervour of the carmine flame
Piercing the atmosphere,
Constantly tantalising the air- fuelling.
The forests engulfed, bellowing from the apse shaped canopies
Violet blue threads of of ribbon;
Wofting unto nothingness
Vapourising smoke.
Natures delightful beauty, casting a shadow
The conflagration immanently consuming lands;
Raging across the earth
Dehydrated and scorched.
Baptismal tears vanquishing the fire,
Heavens standing ovation, applauding
A contained flame,
The sound of rain the fires lamentation.
1997 ELEETE J MUIR
Jan 11, 2014
Jan 11, 2014 at 12:38 PM UTC
So why's the sun bleeding?
Oval feathers leap to jump
False illusion treaty
Mind twist and mind ****
Applauding to the skies we find ourselves
Lost in fantasy or lost in the real world?
Declare ourselves insane, out of our minds
While yellow lights keep flashing out of sight
So out of sight is out of mind?
And out of mind is never forgotten?
Blasphemous signs of alien intrusion
Stating themselves as a part of the new constitution
Maybe another day we shall meet?
Over rainbow land where fairies fly and sprinkle dust
Which in consequence stings us
Wakes us up just to wish to sleep again
Clearly my friends none of us are insane
So we're all the same, we're not insane?
Then where do we point our fingers to put the blame?
If the feather drifts way to the sun
Which bleeds for our sins
And dies just to be resurrected
Hallowed be thy name oh innocence of ours
Echo the shouts through hours and hours
Of undecided fate which is yet to be
Yet to be and yet to see
So close your eyes, yes keep them shut
Don't show emotions, don't open your mouth
So if we keep our mouths closed then we are cleansed from lies?
Or do lies evolve as we grow daily?
Spreading faster than the rays which have been sent upon us
Taking effect quicker than today's deadliest drugs
Bleed, twist your mind and jump
Applaud yourself once more for your discovery
Laugh, cry not to dream not to be
And when the day is over, remember, I'm imaginary
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 7:37 AM UTC
Ribs,
Protruding proof
Of a girl in pain
With a need for control.
Ribs,
A mark of willpower
Or is it weakness
A false sense of control
A puppet governed
By insecurity.
The monster inside,
Taunting.
Empty stomach
Is it applauding your strength,
Or growling at your cruelty?
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
There’s stormy seas ahead they say
The clouds grow like mould in the sky
Batten down the hatches, mayday!
The curtains start to fly
Close the windows against the applauding rains
Lock the door, get buckets ready
But the dread won’t reach my veins
I am strong, I am steady
I have a life raft, small and warm
One bed, one bath, one key
It keeps me safe from any storm
And even the entire sea
Sep 5, 2023
Sep 5, 2023 at 5:12 AM UTC
*Nature welcomes you with an embrace
The wind playfully caresses you
And the crescent moon still visible
And the sun playing hide-n-seek
About to rise, coloring the flaming sky
In the amphitheater of celestial sphere
There is the drama unfolding of a new day
All the spectators, waking to the spectacular
Applauding, as a tribute to the grand illustration
Of abstract paintings, with a rich hue
Dawning on us whith a new plot to enact
The sunrise guiding us with a new ray of hope
Birds leading the way, helping us dream
To reach higher and cross new horizons
I am also a spectator in the crowd
Thronging to face life, as new day has dawned*
© Amitav (Radiance)
Jun 5, 2014
Jun 5, 2014 at 9:46 AM UTC
fearless tires kissing wet pavement
jokes exchanged between laughing dogs
street lights whispering secrets to severed sidewalks
applauding leaves appreciating the evening's entertainment
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 11:01 PM UTC
within the
manipulated frenzy
without
the slightest hint of freedom
people, on the
streets erupting
awaiting
the american military
AGAIN!
-----
and
we so called americans!
watching
laughing
applauding!
horrific
in our ************ glee!
AGAIN!
----------
little child
dying in the rain
---------
little child
little child
Feb 28, 2011
Feb 28, 2011 at 1:39 PM UTC
The clouds whirl around horns of the gate.
The blush of the morning is tangerine
and gold. The blossoming chorus from the bay
for now is just silence, fog and a silver lining.
The cinema bulbs are flickering out.
There is Coca-Cola in my soul.
There is anguish in my bones.
Luxury paid for the tightness of my skin
and an artifice of love.
It blew away like dry grass.
I think God is a librarian,
crumbs in his beard, fingerprinted specs.
Cataloguing the hours I spent on my knees
his matinée idol, his evening sandcastle,
stones applauding his work in the Cali tide.
What can he do to me?
Witchdoctors can forecast rain from my guts.
A poor wading bird can fish me up
and photograph my corpse iconic like Evelyn Hale,
but that 'man' can do nothing…
I see the Island rising from the mist
like it’s throwing off its coat.
I’m like the birdman, in my way.
I’ll be remembered
flying.
Perhaps I can even make it magnificent?
The boys on the boat will talk over their beers
of that triple tuck swan dive,
the acrobat, a harlequin that tumbled
like a shadow on the rising sun
Kamikaze, I Samauri!
The war drum beats, on, on but I’m done.
l am in the eye of the storm.
I am the harbinger, the horseman -
And the universe is a ball in my hands.
I made you up, I’ll rub you out.
The sky is holding the Sun and the Moon.
5am. Circling gulls. Harikiri.
Machinery rings upwards through the girders.
Equinox. Tomorrow is untouchable.
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
How do you feel now that your ballin?
Can you hear your fans screams, Cries, are they applauding?
Are you a drug dealer, boxer, or literally ballin?
Tryna be jordan holding on to spawlding?
You ever think of the hookers that got genitals in their view 24/7. Aren't they ballin too?
What about the mothers that are bawling cause they can't feed their children.
God save us all.
Jan 2, 2011
Jan 2, 2011 at 5:30 PM UTC