"appoint" poems
Copycat, copycat.
Mimic all that I do,
Even though
you know
it's not good for you.
Copycat, copycat.
Do not be a fool.
You can fool
So many people.
But not me;
I will not drool
All over you.
Copycat, copycat.
Giveback my life.
No, I do not care if copying me is how you survive.
No, I hate you a lot... so goodbye.
Copycat, copycat.
I shouldn't call you so:
You're a ***** and I hope that you know.
I appoint you head ***** from now on.
Bam! Scram!
It's about time that you've gone.
Jan 10, 2019
Jan 10, 2019 at 9:21 PM UTC
This is my play's last scene; here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage's last mile; and my race,
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span's last inch, my minute's latest point;
And gluttonous death will instantly unjoint
My body and my soul, and I shall sleep a space;
But my'ever-waking part shall see that face
Whose fear already shakes my every joint.
Then, as my soul to'heaven, her first seat, takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins, that all may have their right,
To where they'are bred, and would press me, to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purg'd of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
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Be composed—be at ease with me—I am Walt Whitman, liberal and ***** as Nature;
Not till the sun excludes you, do I exclude you;
Not till the waters refuse to glisten for you, and the leaves to rustle for you,
do my words refuse to glisten and rustle for you.
My girl, I appoint with you an appointment—and I charge you that you make
preparation to be worthy to meet me,
And I charge you that you be patient and perfect till I come.
Till then, I salute you with a significant look, that you do not forget me.
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Make a mountain of math homework
seem merely a molehill.
Lay down the laws
of long division.
Teach yoga when we yawned,
sing loud when we slept.
Become a fellow fourth grader;
be the class clown.
Tie severed friendships
broken on the playground;
add new knots.
Be the judge,
but appoint us as jury.
Ease my fears
as the sky grew dark.
Let us listen to the radio
as New York burned.
Dare us to dig deeper, illuminate
our minds. Respect
our voices, accept our flaws.
And above all else,
let us teach her.
-With apologies to Elizabeth Homes
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 1:59 AM UTC
The gleaming moonshine on your hair,
fragmented star splitters in your eye,
your smile repainting supernova's glare
appoint you the ruler of my sky.
Mar 4, 2018
Mar 4, 2018 at 5:26 AM UTC
reverence in poetry. everything to every person.
reader claims they can a necessary skill for
uncover the reverence. successful hypothecating and
in the scripts that (buying)poetry-creation outta nothing,
life straight hands me, tell them what thy want to hear,
for collection & correction, and they’ll call you laureate,
secretarial transcribing, instead of good listener
binding, typo correction or just a keen observer-fakir
mundane are the tasks, just take what they give ya,
that’s all them muses ask, dress it like Joseph in a
don’t interfere, taken what’s given, coat of many colors,
bow, curtsy, show respect, don’t let on your plagiarism
treat its aspects/instincts correctly is all them, redressed legally
you’re just the pass through agent, true you, gotta be smart about it,
patient for no payment expected, variant spellings, swinging verbs,
be our adherent, not our truant, be discreet, they’ll call your script
we appoint don’t disappoint, a real keeper and give love or sun,
accept our patent, render legit mucho poem emojis accoladeya
as for this reverence thinge devil in a blue dress, walk the streets
if I do my job ok, on any day, grabbing snatches of overhearings,
any poem could save a life, pressed into a single tunic, you think,
if I get the commas placed, he a genius, knows my thinking,
just right, the periods period, exactly, what a great poet and
while obeying the speed limit con/hu-man par excellent
them muses so **** pleased even fool muses, too full themselves,
by this true confession released, muses who think we stink and
and self deprecation, couldn’t do it without them
they call me reverend, great pretenders by stealing
imagine them silly folk, everything in everybody and
calling a big fat liar. all thieves and cape riders,
reverend, duh, the end original liars, pants on fire
before midnight and after 3:20am April 7~8, two oh nineteen
any message you send becomes my intellectual property, fool....
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
Don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
What if the buildings are
Damaged dangerously?
What if all the walls
Are full of cracks
Things can be easily controlled
And you have enough money
So don't panic at all
Don't bother at all
Use your money with caution
Apply your mind, use your money
Get all the walls painted
With very nice painting
Paintings of the folks
Paintings of the modern era
Paintings of saints and heroes
Painting of beautiful landscapes
Raise slogans here and there
Unfurl flags and sing the anthem
What if the rivers are di*ty?
Only raise awareness campaigns
Put hoardings and banners everywhere
Do nothing else, but show everything
Just adopt these cheap tactics
You can save lot of wealth
And can spent on yourself
Or can buy more votes with it
Paint the bark of all the trees
Break all the records of shame
Create a new fake history
Make silly new records
What if there is poverty
Just make monuments for god
And ask people to pray there
God is there to listen the prayer
What if there is unemployment
Ask your businessmen friends
To start training centres and train the youth
And make money, money and money
Leave the trained youth as they were
Ask them to create employment for self
Call it self-employment, call it freedom
Ask them to rejoice this freedom
Open new schools and colleges
But don't appoint staff in teachers
Collect hefty amount of fees
Spent that fees on yourself
Also spent some to collect votes
Manage the peoples
Manage the machines
Manage history, manage geography
Manage the media, manage the news
Spread everywhere, fake news
If you do, what I have said
You will be the king again
Jun 10, 2019
Jun 10, 2019 at 2:35 PM UTC
(Phillipians, iv.11)
Fierce passions discompose the mind,
As tempests vex the sea,
But calm, content and peace we find,
When, Lord, we turn to Thee.
In vain by reason and by rule
We try to bend the will;
For none but in the Saviour's school
Can learn the heavenly skill.
Since at His feet my soul has sate,
His gracious words to hear,
Contented with my present state,
I cast on Him my care.
"Art thou a sinner, soul?" He said,
"Then how canst thou complain?
How light thy troubles here, if weigh'd
With everlasting pain!
"If thou of murmuring wouldst be cured,
Compare thy griefs with mine!
Think what my love for thee endured,
And thou wilt not repine.
"'Tis I appoint thy daily lot,
And I do all things well;
Thou soon shalt leave this wretched spot,
And rise with me to dwell.
"In life my grace shall strength supply,
Proportion'd to thy day;
At death thou still shalt find me nigh,
To wipe thy tears away."
Thus I, who once my wretched days
In vain repinings spent,
Taught in my Saviour's school of grace,
Have learnt to be content.
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As a matter of fact
"I Do"
This particular hospital visit has become an UnKnown drifting barge of cold,
Dismal,a bit austere and forlorn
Fatigue and tension was an early onset of the week.
Spent most the time looking for relief
Every attempt gave life to a unique defeat
An Inexorable desire for the calm to anoint me
I volunteer, then become abased, when they don't appoint me
Irritated When Lustful walls castigate me
Now the needle sings a seductive serenade of sedition,
Slowly, softening the soul to surrender to sleep and submission
That is the mental, and physical surrender, but what of the spiritual and emotional exhortation for permission?
I remain here not home
I prepare for the pain all alone
Dilaudid stirring up my veins and then some
Hoping to endow or maim some predilection from U,
-Alexis-
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 3:10 AM UTC
In Farmington the misfit suffers the jukebox and dances to an unknown song. He dances on the pool table. He wears black—black skull cap, black
duster, black shirt, black slacks, black boots. He's in Farmington and
the women here drink Bud Light. He dances slow. It's similar to a dance
you've seen before. You have that friend that climbs on couches after a few and half staggers, half sways. The women here watch him with unhappy eyes and hands stained blue from the textile mill. He seems to mouth the words although he clearly doesn't know the song. They, the women, dig their elbows into the bar. Pocked and graffiti'd, the bar soaks up spilled beer and ash and nail polish. Behind the bar a sign reads: Free Beer Tomorrow. And for some reason, you must admit, this sign's effect never dulls. The Misfit pantomimes a dance with a pool cue. His face is severe, serious. He's in Farmington dancing with a pool cue on a pool table to a song he doesn't know like a drunk friend of yours and the women are watching. Next, he does something amazing. He removes his cap. He's got shocks of bleached hair and burn scars run like rivulets between the patches. He tosses the cap toward the bar. One lucky woman catches it and summons herself to the pool table. You want them to have a bit of dialogue here, to say something oblique and innocent. Instead the lucky woman dances at the man's feet. He surrenders a smile and he's got small tracts of bleached hair and burn scars and he's in all black and he's dancing. The lucky woman, she's in a canary yellow patch dress. Her dance, although clumsy, still mesmerizes you. It's without ego, without shame. She is a child. She is the light in the room. She is, in this moment, the world entire. He pulls her onto the table. It's time to appoint the Misfit and the lucky woman names, you think. His name shall be Joshua. Her name shall be Anna. Palms together, her head resting on his chest, they sway. The smoke and the tracers of light meld and Joshua and Anna's outlines become muddied. Their bodies merge and they are both yellow and black and covered in burn scars and bleached hair and the women are still watching. As the song starts to fade, someone—maybe it's you—drops a few coins in the jukebox and it begins again.
Dec 22, 2016
Dec 22, 2016 at 12:13 PM UTC
The last time I saw you
We were trying to blend orange into green
In a huge painting for a fund raising auction.
Surprisingly, I see you again in yet another colorful adventure,
In a dark room with bright blinking lights where
We gave 80's dance moves to pop rock songs.
Then we plunged into the night and let
Our laughter and high pitched voices pierce the chilly air.
We balanced our books as we hurriedly jaywalked
Through the 10 pm traffic jam.
Though the ads in the mall were right at our faces,
You pulled me to a big blue aquarium
To marvel at the goldfish and guppies
Staring at our shiny eyes the same way.
We tried to understand the math
On how our corals cost 3 times more than the States
Even if we have 20 times more species than them.
We couldn't, but we swore to each other we'd stop it.
And as we shared a glass
Of too much ice and no more tea
We fought back passion filled tears
When we told each other story after story
Of our government's inadequacies.
We argued, but finally agreed that
It's not over population, it's urban planning;
It's not poverty, it's inequality;
They're not imbeciles, just ignorant;
And our nation maybe unfortunate,
But our trust is not in fortune, but in grace.
Then as we bid each other goodbye,
Unsure of when will we even meet again,
I prayed to God that
If our school chaplain becomes the president
I'd like him to appoint you and me as the
environment and finance secretaries.
I thanked Him too because
Now for the first time in my life,
I'm not ashamed, I'm not embarrassed but
I'm happy
To be a geek
Because you are with me.
Feb 9, 2014
Feb 9, 2014 at 6:23 AM UTC
Got me a dose of my own medicine and I can't stomach the taste.
I spit it out and let the virus run a muck throughout the place.
My mix-tapes are an act of meditation. A phonetic compilation. An auditory trepanation.
With a couple screws loose I'm beginning to know the drill,
And already the hole is on its way to being filled.
Though the void keeps my brain pulsing, still, as my self trepidation is yet to be fulfilled.
Winter is a stone-cold killer. I can feel its icy fingers groping the back of my skull.
Numbing the occipital lobe. Static. Gray. Snow. A visual forebode.
Neurotic overload.
Sparks flying and dying.
Light to dark.
Good to bad.
Duality deceased.
Appoint the next fad.
Dec 14, 2013
Dec 14, 2013 at 2:56 AM UTC
What the faugh?
Appoint that braugh?
Barfin’ in the haugh?
“I like beer here;
In the hall—
Keggin’ legend y’all”
Teenage hijinks
Predator some think
From the calumny calendar
“Appoint me;
Don’t disappoint me;
This is my drunken call!”
“No single appointment here
No, just one issue (snicker)…
Roe? Wade? It’s clear as beer!”
Supporters of this supreme
You really needn’t get this meme;
You want him for one thing
“You don’t like me;
I am a lying pig—
But my r.v.w will stick”
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 12:45 AM UTC
Perhaps we go with wind and cloud and sun,
Into the free companionship of air;
Perhaps with sunsets when the day is done,
All's one to me -- I do not greatly care;
So long as there are brown hills -- and a tree
Like a mad prophet in a land of dearth --
And I can lie and hear eternally
The vast monotonous breathing of the earth.
I have known hours, slow and golden-glowing,
Lovely with laughter and suffused with light,
O Lord, in such a time appoint my going,
When the hands clench, and the cold face grows white,
And the spark dies within the feeble brain,
Spilling its star-dust back to dust again.
2k
Sometimes I feel ancient.
As if I have witnessed the birth
of our galaxy.
Sometimes I feel as if
I'm playing Hide and Seek
with myself.
The present me
hides from my ancient self.
Because when my ancient self
finds me
and turns her wise eye
in the direction of humanity
she is saddened by the state of herself.
How did we get so disillusioned?
How did we become so selfish and
glutinous?
When did we appoint ourselves Kings and Queens
of the Earth
which cries beneath our feet?
I remember a time
when I moved freely with my fellow man.
When we knew that We were the gift
Given to the Earth.
The gardeners.
The caretakers.
Only taking what we need and nothing more.
Freeing up our time
in order to truly expand our minds.
Our evolution has been stunted.
And I feel ancient.
I found you.
And I must say,
I'm a little disappointed.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 11:28 AM UTC
Just because someone’s loves you
Doesn’t mean they believe in you
So go on little guy
Go get after it
Lets prove people wrong
But know yourself
Know your worth
Back’s to fences?
You best get going
Go on, Be bold brother!
Cocky, confident go **** it! You cocky ****
Go back to your circle of sinners
Don’t you dare try and take time from the talented ones life
...
It’s pretty easy to appoint
To not disappoint
When you’ve been dubbed such a loser
Well...
Here’s my stand **** you and **** this
I’m the man!
I make the magic!
I will prevail
I will no longer be pounded
Underdogs don’t always finish first
But we’ll **** well die doing it
So go on little guy
Lets go get em
Cause even with love little
Our hope is high
Cocky, confident and **** big chip on our shoulders
Apr 27, 2018
Apr 27, 2018 at 5:34 AM UTC
This is my play’s last scene, here heavens appoint
My pilgrimage’s last mile; and my race
Idly, yet quickly run, hath this last pace,
My span’s last inch, my minute’s latest point,
And gluttonous death, will instantly unjoint
My body and soul, and I shall sleep a space;
But my ever-waking part shall see that face,
Whose fear already shakes my every joint:
Then, as my soul, t’ heaven her first seat, takes flight,
And earth-born body in the earth shall dwell,
So fall my sins that all may have their right
(To where they’re bred, and would press me) to hell.
Impute me righteous, thus purged of evil,
For thus I leave the world, the flesh, the devil.
1.4k
I don't obtain any of the qualities many girls my age appoint themselves to behold.
I refrain from what I'm told that I am expected to be.
I set my own expectations.
I come from where it's quiet at night, my parents spent my whole life ******** my head on tight so that I will never view my insight as crooked.
I've never been the girl that the cute boys liked, I've always been the sweet shy smiling type
In a world filled with wrongs, I'm just trying to do right
-while everyone around me is trying to be alike-
I'll fight to be different.
It comes naturally;
I've never fit in anywhere in my life
In a world full of darkness I'm just trying to be the light;
I just want to be me at my highest potential.
We all possess certain truths about ourselves,
Sort of like facts;
They encode the inevitable.
They're what makes us unique,
They're what makes us individuals.
I'll never sell my soul.
What's normal anyway?
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
*Hi Tonto, what’s up?
How Butthead.
Tonto, why do say how?
Why white man say hi?
I don’t know Tonto, maybe it’s slang for hello.
Funny, white man put the word hell in greeting
Then convert to hi, which mean way up there.
Human being say how instead.
Means same thing.
Means, how high is hell.
Oh come on Tonto, you’re pulling my leg.
Tonto no pullem leg, Tonto tellem truth like totem pole.
Speaking of totem pole, Tonto, why do you call it a totem pole?
Cause no matter where human being go
He tote truth and pole with him so remember
From where human being come.
OK, tell me the story of your totem pole.
The lowest level on totem pole about time
When male part of human beings was slave to
The females of tribe.
Male have power but woman have strength.
Strength and power not same thing.
Strength beats power always.
Man have to use power to serve woman’s strength.
Woman was Goddess, ruled supreme over
All human beings.
Time was peaceful, never need warriors.
No one equal but opportunity for all.
Then woman have boy child.
This one boy child was bad seed and not mind.
Before long, boy child drive all crazy.
Strength tell power to take boy child into woods.
Boy child survive and sometimes sneak back into camp.
Boy child steal what he need to survive.
Sometimes, boy child dress like woman,
Sometimes like man.
Strength scared of boy child.
Power see strength afraid.
Power say, man protect woman from devil boy child.
Woman agree.
Man gain power, woman lose strength.
Man see that lie gives him control.
Woman now become servant.
Man continue lie for many moons.
Man appoint another man as shaman
Or religious leader to continue lie.
Male become more powerful as woman
Depend on man’s God to protect her from devil.
Many moons later, woman forget she Goddess.
Male just meant to serve – but now he in charge.
That’s a neat story Tonto.
But I know it isn’t true.
How?
Oh, now I get it, that’s why you say – how.
Yes, men greet other men by saying how
As reminder of how we overcame women’s strength.
But it’s a fairy tale, Tonto.
What make you say that, Butthead?
Ok, if it is true what happened to the child that
Was put out and left in the woods to die.
Devil child became white man. He lose all his color.
You, Butthead, you are truth of human beings’ story.
Human beings no longer live in peace.
Man have power but still have no strength.
Woman give up strength for security and protection.
Earth still in turmoil.
Will always be in turmoil until man learn what
Woman already know.
Might does not equal right.
No two people are equal.
But all human beings deserve equal opportunity.
Your kind, Butthead, you part of bad seed.
You perpetuate the lie that man make good leader.
Only woman have sense enough to lead.
Man too busy beating chest and fighting
For females to know how to lead.
But woman, in her the hope of the next generation lives.
But as long as Butthead on top of totem pole,
Human beings live afraid of devil.
Fear rules, not with strength but with power.
World remain always in heap big mess.
Man beats chest and control females.
All because of the threat of the bad seed
Hidden somewhere out there in the woods.
Boy child should have got **** beat.
Boy child become Butthead instead.*
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 3:58 PM UTC
Broaden my soul, keep me dreaming,
enable my soul to do good, infinitely, forever.
Speak over the barriers,then let me celebrate
in the halls of your power and song.
Let me be taken underneath
a thousand more colors of peace,
teach my soul and knit wisdom into me,
make me whole.
Keep me in love with you,
take away my blindness,
clear the soul scars,
open the mirrors of yesterday no more.
Dry out the pain in my heart,
let me not stare in fear,
or wander, teach me, uplift me,
be my star in the sky.
Lord, remove my enemies,
appoint your strong angels
against them,
for they are many who seek
to destroy.
I am yours, think of me
always, blend my soul with your
breath and beloved music and song.
Keep me as long as the Earth endures.
Sincerely,
I love you.
Nov 8, 2015
Nov 8, 2015 at 8:53 PM UTC
Spread your arms,
Show me your chest,
Discharge your guards
And appoint them to rest
Close your eyes,
Follow my fingertips.
Now let out a sigh.
We’re at loves lips.
Watch it part
For us to join
The abstract art
With lustful *****
We’ll dance together
In different shapes
And splash our colors
In different shades.
Our canvas extends
Towards loves eyes.
Where the colors blend
Creating our sky.
Meet me on the bridge of loves nose
Brushes in our hands
Painting our love flows
Aug 28, 2012
Aug 28, 2012 at 1:14 AM UTC
In Detroit, the "motor city".
The wheels are off the cart.
Auto coverage? unaffordable-
four thousand just to park!
So many buy no coverage
or pretend they live elsewhere.
The apathy is palpable
Local government doesn't care.
There is a high court precedent
handed down from Robert's chair
The President must get involved
to save them from despair.
He will assess the situation
and appoint an auto czar.
to force all to buy insurance
It will be called "Obama-Car"
Jul 25, 2013
Jul 25, 2013 at 7:52 AM UTC
What is Fetch?
Instinct.
What is Instinct?
Need, desire, want.
To eat, to sleep, to drink, to dance.
To protect, to run, to hide, to fight.
*** Self, Passion, Pride, Power.
To create, to destroy.
What is Fetch?
Memory.
What is Memory?
Past, future, now.
What was known before it was lost.
What will be learned again.
Connections, links, guesses.
The womb.
What is Fetch?
Belief.
What is Belief?
Unconscious, not logical, faith.
Love, hate, desire, repulsion.
We know but we don’t know.
What do we know?
What is Fetch?
Victory.
What is Victory?
Netzach.
Overcoming, conquering, destroying.
Emotions, strong and weak.
Masculine, warrior, fighting.
Protecting, defending, overcoming.
What is Fetch?
Glory.
What is Glory?
Hod.
Embracing, surrendering, comforting.
Rational, understanding.
Feminine, lover, loving.
Overcoming by embracing.
Nurturing, mother, child.
What is Fetch?
Foundation.
What is Foundation?
Yesod.
*** ****** release.
Union, giving, receiving.
Masculine, feminine, together.
One, at one, united.
To fix, to establish, to lay a foundation.
To begin, to appoint, to ordain, to constitute.
To support oneself, to lean, to rest on one's arm.
Heaven and earth, crown and kingdom.
One, at one, united.
***
What is Fetch?
***
What is ***
Power flowing, always changing.
Union, coming together.
Two become one, one is found in two.
Giving and receiving, receiving and giving.
Release.
What is Fetch?
Self.
What is Self?
Looking inward.
Loving who you are.
Standing firm, standing tall.
Self-contained, self-constrained.
Who am I?
Who are you?
What is Fetch?
Passion.
What is Passion?
What you love, what you do.
Giving all to what you love.
Emotions, feelings, strong and weak.
Embrace your feelings, embrace your loves.
What is Fetch?
Pride.
What is Pride?
Confidence, strengths and weaknesses.
Standing tall, standing firm.
Inner strength.
I know who I am.
I know my value.
I am valuable.
You are valuable.
What is Fetch?
Power.
What is Power?
Mana.
Energy pulsing, ever pulsing.
Change, power to change, power to be changed.
Be the change, be changed.
Power flowing, ever changing.
Be the change you want to see in the world.
What is Fetch?
Instinct.
Memory.
Belief.
Victory.
Glory.
Foundation.
***
Self.
Passion.
Pride.
Power.
What is Fetch?
Fetch.
May 13, 2011
May 13, 2011 at 2:56 PM UTC
no one is real
all cares are centered around themselves
when they will smoke their next cigarette
who's lips they will place their's on tonight
what girl they will fake a smile to
what boy they will pretend they never loved
no one is original
all thoughts are synced together
shave half theirselves away in pacts
appoint the men they will claim
the girl they will blame
this has to be one big joke
and i don't get the punchline
Jul 30, 2011
Jul 30, 2011 at 10:48 AM UTC