"ascendancy" poems
.
A cloud falls from the sky,
a lead balloon of precipitation,
and cuddles the ground
like a long lost lover.
Dripping its cargo,
shedding tears along the way,
leaving a trail of damp memory
and a calm balm
for the Earth.
*And a candle flickers
on a lonely table,
as a pen drifts across lines,
filling meaningless words
that never
convey the depths of separation.
The flame flares
as a waft, a draft,
creeps in a crack under the door,
adding a poignant touch
to the melancholy of atmosphere.
Gripping the pen with delicate unease,
the hubbub drowns inwards,
doubt rises in ascendancy,
the pen falls,
like a discarded relationship,
and the meaningless words
stop.*
© Pagan Paul (21/11/18)
Nov 21, 2018
Nov 21, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
**Yo! Yo! My Drug of Choice **** Poets)**
Yo! Yo!
Member of the troupe?
You up all nite?
You always hungry,
Making trouble, rite?
You one of those?
**** poets!
Exist on strict diet?
Pleasured-pain,
Constant-continual surges
Turn into urges,
Full-time suspense,
Juices always flowing.
**** Poets!
Yo! Yo!
You one of those?
Never knowing,
What? When?
The eyes gonna invert
Retina images into words
Brain signaling, semaphoring the fingers
Yo! Yo!
You don't get nine months,
Maybe nine seconds,
Then mother-birth another verse,
****** poets!
Yo! Yo!
Remember your first real high,
That moment
No absolution, no return.
That moment
When you admitted, confessed,
to yourself:
*I am
Forever forward,
A home-grown poet.
I am
Soul enslaved to words.
The alphabet - My oxygen molecules,
I am both,
Addict and dealer
A ****** poet*
Yo! Yo!
So you do recall,
The exact moment,
God-spark-within, ascendancy gained
You lost control,
Wept words instead of tears!
A ****** poet ******
Yo! Yo!
Sophie's Choice.
You chose writing over breathing,
Worshiper of the purest pleaure,
******* in deep the smoke-high of
Head-nodding discontented contentment
Stealing anything you saw
For to satisfy the need, the craven
Craving.
****** poets!
Yo! Yo!
Don't you're ever sleep?
Hear that the city, the state,
Gonna methadone your kind
In a special program
Teach you only language to sign.
**** poets!
**I am a ****** poet.**
*The first step taken.
Admission.
Poetry is my default rest position,*
My drug of choice.
5:07am
June 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 5:12 AM UTC
Sagaciously gloaming melanite eyes
Resonating euphoniously ululated memories;
The shadow land of illusion
Rising out of the ash of an acorn
Wallowing in the blood of wars strident refuge,
Gnomic relics errant of an
Enigmatic almondine heart
Offering an olive branch upon an
Altar made of oak.
A ruminantly nostalgic requiem
Sedititiously traversing the firmament;
Ineluctable reprobation
Ineffably manifested,
The doves of meta-morphosis
Embracing the silk garments of love;
Sound minds cacophany
Devouring the delusional devout
Veridically inspiring ascendancy
Decieving serenities whisper throughout
The dominions audaciously
Rousing ambivalent fears.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 10:27 AM UTC
red blue
reptiles reptiles
white russian ****** mary
puritan pride puritan pride
freemason freemason
where the good, old days at? where the odd. good days at?
conspiracy conspiracy
deep fake deep fake
trump has a wooden leg biden has a wooden leg
aliens aliens
wars wars
china china
abortion abortion
manifest destiny manifest destiny
lobbyists lobbyists
fox nbc
sovereign citizen version
hey!
get the hell out of america!
your title makes no sense
if you're a citizen of the world, then move to that world
who do you think you are? God or something?
(as it appears on https://www.merriam-webster(no lie)
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sov·er·eign | \ ˈsä-v(ə-)rən
, -vərn also ˈsə- \
variants: or less commonly sovran
Definition of sovereign
(Entry 1 of 2)
1a : one possessing or held to possess supreme political power or sovereignty
b : one that exercises supreme authority within a limited sphere
c : an acknowledged leader : arbiter
2 : any of various gold coins of the United Kingdom
sovereign adjective
sov·er·eign | \ ˈsä-v(ə-)rən
, -vərn also ˈsə- \
variants: or less commonly sovran
Definition of sovereign (Entry 2 of 2)
1a : superlative in quality
b : of the most exalted kind : supreme sovereign virtue
c : having generalized curative powers a sovereign remedy
d : of an unqualified nature : unmitigated sovereign contempt
e : having undisputed ascendancy : paramount
2a : possessed of supreme power a sovereign ruler
b : unlimited in extent : absolute
c : enjoying autonomy : independent sovereign states
3 : relating to, characteristic of, or befitting a supreme ruler : royal a sovereign right
Nov 2, 2021
Nov 2, 2021 at 12:08 AM UTC
The words come flowing out when the blood is boiling under. That is when vengeance comes to rescue your soul
longing to fulfill our thirst .
I just want to strike him with my rage
and want to literally burn him into ashes just so that I can roll into those, deathlike corporeal ruins
leaving soul frenziedly lust of mine to satiate .
I want to hold some of his powdery residual remains
as the rest
just scatters by ;
staring at my ascendancy.
Till then let another par of anger pile up and
get that load off
with my bare hands ,
bathing in the
pleasant sight of his blood stains .
My vendatta would be eternally be lasting even in afterlife .
After all it is a fight of a soul to get his righteous stand someday and may that be by ,
A
DEATH
OF
THE
OTHER
ONE
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 6:53 AM UTC
I've been going right on, page by page,
since we last kissed, two long dolls in a cage,
two hunger-mongers throwing a myth in and out,
double-crossing out lives with doubt,
leaving us separate now, fogy with rage.
But then I've told my readers what I think
and scrubbed out the remainder with my shrink,
have placed my bones in a jar as if possessed,
have pasted a black wing over my left breast,
have washed the white out of the moon at my sink,
have eaten The Cross, have digested its lore,
indeed, have loved that eggless man once more,
have placed my own head in the kettle because
in the end death won't settle for my hypochondrias,
because this errand we're on goes to one store.
That shopkeeper may put up barricades,
and he may advertise cognac and razor blades,
he may let you dally at Nice or the Tuileries,
he may let the state of our bowels have ascendancy,
he may let such as we flaunt our escapades,
swallow down our portion of whisky and dex,
salvage the day with some soup or some ***
juggle our teabags as we inch down the hall,
let the blood out of our fires with phenobarbital,
lick the headlines for Starkweathers and Specks,
let us be folk of the literary set,
let us deceive with words the critics regret,
let us dog down the streets for each invitation,
typing out our lives like a Singer sewing sublimation,
letting our delicate bottoms settle and yet
they were spanked alive by some doctor of folly,
given a horn or a dish to get by with, by golly,
exploding with blood in this errand called life,
dumb with snow and elbows, rubber man, a mother wife,
tongues to waggle out of the words, mistletoe and holly,
tables to place our stones on, decades of disguises,
wntil the shopkeeper plants his boot in our eyes,
and unties our bone and is finished with the case,
and turns to the next customer, forgetting our face
or how we knelt at the yellow bulb with sighs
like moth wings for a short while in a small place.
2k
For ***** to bounce is very rude,
Unless they dropped. Ascendancy
Is boldness we don’t like to see.
And roundness really is quite lewd.
For spheres, directions are the same,
And favoring the vertical
Is impudent in a mere ball.
A proper toy should be more tame.
Jul 30, 2021
Jul 30, 2021 at 1:42 AM UTC
Join the ranks of victory,
pArAde through the streets triumphantly.
InHeRent is the thirst for ascendancy.
War is Masked fear, hidden below bravery,
out over Yonder, few are pleased with their destiny.
Nov 2, 2011
Nov 2, 2011 at 11:07 PM UTC
Born a boy; now a man of men.
A son of Omu-Aran becoming the
Bishop of the world, who his mom
Nurtured and cultured by his granny.
A benign brook belittled yesterday
Has turned to a blessed flowing sea;
Small molehill becomes an Everest
In the sight of many a jeering enemy.
Bishop, God called to ascendancy
By favour: getting glory from grace.
To make his humble name legendary,
Heaven did set him apart for the race.
David Oyedepo, like David the king,
Is truly "a man after God's heart":
Of his goodness and love does he sing;
His passion he has from the very start.
Jesus Christ, the Bible and Faith alone
His breath and bread are; anointed
Books and tapes his ice cream cone.
In all circumstances he's oft elated.
Life of meaning isn't in number told,
But by deeds yonder the present:
All men were born; few do die
Great--for most live for the moment.
A diamond impact, like Papa's, will
For ever shine like stars in the sky,
Which the entire kingdom of the devil
Can never obscure its effulgence high.
Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 12:15 PM UTC
I was born with the wrong sign
In the wrong house
With the wrong ascendancy
I took the wrong road
That led to the wrong tendencies
I was in the wrong place at the wrong time
For the wrong reason and the wrong rhyme
On the wrong day of the wrong week
I used the wrong method with the wrong technique
Wrong..
Feb 7, 2016
Feb 7, 2016 at 5:59 PM UTC
your arousal fantasy
is a catch for me
comes in sound waves
enters my head
from the right ear
but no action required
I say
just observe
so I
pull it up a bit
- the activated tip
in the crypt -
from the line beneath
towards the umbilicus
spread
- the well calculated
as if instantly
phononized insanity
validating
vibrational ascendancy-
along the void
and render
all the whatever
patiently
in less than a moment
lest the mind won’t interfere
amid balancing the belly
I half
the remaining
equally
push one lump towards the zenith
another vis-a-vis the right feet
so it finds a correct exit
while especially the
toe tip
beside the small one is affected to be
the immediate target of delete
I shut personal sensations
of ‘I don’t like it’
so that I can dump
with a pure desire
to return to sender
as is required
as much as earth receives
air insists
for its ascending part
an accuracy of might
a simultaneous rush of flow
a cause of cranial vertigo
lasting less than a moment
on the right
quasi ready to squad
the head
but No - I fight not
fighting means slavery at your side
whereas your side exists not
without that foxy fight
hidden under smarty pants just
a mystified puff-gloom intensifies
but gets shot
in one bite
ready to gobble the pretender
which I am not
and flushes oh the so lonely
oh the so broken hearted
transforms to a flatus-cloud
heads up and up
en route the dark
skies full of angry-clouds
oh my brrrrrrgghhhh
even they take it not
hurriedly move aside
an irregularly contoured
eloquent ******
ethereal space shapes
softly
along the
cotton like subtlety
pliantly tight
so you can pass
while I happily look up
to sing the
Oh Lovey-Dovey
See!
You also have some use
Finally
and Yes!
The sun shines for us
most beautifully
diminishing your blues
through the enchanting
blue of the patchy
Mar 5, 2015
Mar 5, 2015 at 3:19 PM UTC
Sunken sunlight fades, leaking gold,
Dappled shadows cast, dips and dells,
Greenery wrought grey, primeval,
Crisp and still whispers, secrets kept.
Within arching sky, cold tears fall,
Ponderous clouds glow, high above,
Glistening crescent, heralds night,
Chaos of umbra, caught ablaze.
Shimmer scaled sea, cobalt cold,
Encroaching absence, losing bright,
Black ascendancy, the end shade,
Distant lights ignite, dark flowers bloom.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 5:07 AM UTC
Great blind men see all,
But you are no gifted prophet,
Your claims are hollowed out
Your visions are tenebrous and ignorant --
Stop acting like you know me,
Stealing days, months, years
Does not mean I am yours;
My wings are clipped, but I still fly
My voice is silent, but I still sing.
You avoid my eyes, yet
You do not own your wrongs,
These bruises that go unnoticed,
These scars that are invisible.
**Stop ignoring me! I’m still here.**
I’m still trying to heal what is hurt,
Bind wounds opened by your hands.
Blind man, with eyes that do not see me,
Thinks he has ascendancy over me.
Blind man, oh my dear Blind man,
I hope you fall in your chosen darkness.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
Seldom have I seen such strength, such purposefulness shown
And I have witnessed many who have made their message known,
Immovable this woman stands in seas of raging tide
Where friend and foe, as challengers, she’s deftly swept aside.
Resolute she stands atop white cliffs of blazing chalk
To glare across the Channel where her predecessors stalked
In league with Winston Churchill with pugnacious jawline set
When he thrashed the fiend in Jackboots and field grey appuletes.
In league with Margaret Thatcher with that glint of grey in eyes
To the accolades of Gorbachev who recognised the prize.
In league with Boadecia the ghost of power past
Who rallied this great nation to fight on to the last.
Snapping at her ankles the dogs of turmoil writhe
And comrades of another time amass to criticise,
Labourites howl murderously to all who would take heed
While the rabble rousing Europeans joust to intercede.
Swirling round her skirts they mass now screaming their abuse
At her articulated message of a pathway less obtuse.
If Tony Blair had the ***** it’s to her side he’d dance
As would Jeremy Corbett but of that there’s little chance,
Her Majesty stands forthright, as do all her heirs
Including Will and Harry who are cheering from the stairs.
Dianna’s there in spirit plus the Kiwis from the pub
And the rough crowd from the chippie all dolled up with a scrub.
She needs ALL of you behind her in her struggle for the best,
Independence for Great Britain is ascendancy’s great quest.
The very heart of what It means to dwell within these shores
The very heart of what it means to be Brittish to the core.
England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales combining for the task
Of a guarantee of future from the quagmire of the past.
We SHALL stand behind Teresa May and make our voices heard
As we scream aloud the anthem to impart our final word….
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITTANIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER…
SHALL BE SLAVES!
Boom, boom, boom
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITANNIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER….
SHALL BE SLAVES!
M.
18 December 2018
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
I do not underestimate mysellf. More importantly, I do not underestimate the poor of Earth. They have been enslaved, abused, scorned, starved, left homeless and uneducated to this very day. Yet they persevere. Notwithstanding, they bring new life into this world, their babies, their children. Each is sacred. Their divine worth is inviolate. But those who currently rule the world are impervious to their suffering and are unaware of the great, fatal, inevitable result they will encounter because of their moral blindness. There will be, sooner than later, an uprising of the poor of Earth. There will be no guns, no bombs, no killings, no wars, because this ascendancy is spiritually preordained. And the poor will no longer be poor. They will share equally with all others the good of Earth. And this horror of millennia will come to an end. It is already beginning to happen as I write. Rejoice!
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Aug 25, 2020
Aug 25, 2020 at 4:35 PM UTC
You
Shame me, blame me humiliate me and lie.
Compare me, threaten me, defame me and ignore my cries.
My life played like a toy, controlled and molded as it's twisted
and pried.
You
Charm them, ****** them and shape them with veiled ascendancy.
The manipulated, the puppets, the pawns; the recruited proxy.
Their life played like a toy, to dance and to sing to the captivating sounds of a deluded melody.
They
Become your enablers, the abusers, the bullies; your silhouettes.
Your servants, your minions, your marionettes.
Forever blindly clutched on a page of your novelette.
I
Am no longer a victim, desiring love from my family.
I am now enlightened and empowered, free from your chains.
I gained awareness, my strength and my sanity.
Now you play in silence with your bitter scapegoat games.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 7:12 PM UTC
**Yo! Yo! My Drug of Choice **** Poets)**
Yo! Yo!
Member of the troupe?
You up all nite?
You always hungry,
Making trouble, rite?
You one of those?
**** poets!
Exist on strict diet?
Pleasured-pain,
Constant-continual surges
Turn into urges,
Full-time suspense,
Juices always flowing.
**** Poets!
Yo! Yo!
You one of those?
Never knowing,
What? When?
The eyes gonna invert
Retina images into words
Brain signaling, semaphoring the fingers
Yo! Yo!
You don't get nine months,
Maybe nine seconds,
Then mother-birth another verse,
****** poets!
Yo! Yo!
Remember your first real high,
That moment
No absolution, no return.
That moment
When you admitted, confessed,
to yourself:
I am
Forever forward,
A home-grown poet.
I am
Soul enslaved to words.
The alphabet - My oxygen molecules,
I am both,
Addict and dealer
A ****** poet
Yo! Yo!
So you do recall,
The exact moment,
God-spark-within, ascendancy gained
You lost control,
Wept words instead of tears!
A ****** poet ******
Yo! Yo!
Sophie's Choice.
You chose writing over breathing,
Worshiper of the purest pleaure,
******* in deep the smoke-high of
Head-nodding discontented contentment
Stealing anything you saw
For to satisfy the need, the craven
Craving.
****** poets!
Yo! Yo!
Don't you're ever sleep?
Hear that the city, the state,
Gonna methadone your kind
In a special program
Teach you only language to sign.
**** poets!
I am a ****** poet.
The first step taken.
Admission.
Poetry is my default rest position,
My drug of choice.
5:07am
June 12, 2013
PostScript:
cherish these flawed ones,
gentle these frail but gritty,
the Lord has tasked them
to be prophets in one tongue untied,
undo the strife of Babel's division.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
Sunless steeples toppled the fonts of your apocrypha
The mumbled harbingers of guilt's ascendancy
The icicles of the chandeliers dripping
Carbuncle tears, as the ransom of sullen lives
Many Sundays saw the closing of word-stiffened pages
In the hands of the blue-suited multitudes,
In homage of cathedrals filled up with dead Lilies
The pure must wear dark colors, in a kind of fake humility
While the evil wear white alone, in broad strokes of denial
And attention is a weather vane spinning madly
At the top of the world, wanting only God to be watching
only God to be watching
only God to be watching
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 12:19 PM UTC
There is a hole inside my chest.
I didn‘t ask it to be there
I don‘t know where it came from
But it doesn‘t seem to care.
Everytime I see a glimpse of serenity
it taints me again:
A corrupting presence
strangling my spine
choking my soul.
What has changed?
Where is the cause?
I‘ve lost ascendancy
over the demons I thought
to have slain long ago.
Again I‘m afraid.
Afraid to speak too much,
afraid to be silent for too long.
Afraid to be me
and afraid to disguise myself.
It seems my fortune has vanished
from my control.
And in dark moments
the only thing that‘s left
is the fear that
something has changed
irreversibly.
What once got close
seems to drift apart again
before it could begin to coalesce.
And I stand weak
before my inner chaos.
My mind is a maze
and I have lost the map.
How am I supposed to find my way back
with this chasm in my head?
~
My confidence is torn.
~
There is a hole in the sky
and it slowly pulls me in.
Will it erase me or cleanse me?
And will the scourge inside of me
finally die?
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 1:18 PM UTC
I can lecture on the darkness
I’ve tasted shadows like burnt milk
I can lecture on the shadow
I’ve tasted her tongue-dried appetite
The way she cowers in fear
For what is new, in confronting change
I am older now, more fragile
Being had, enjoying how love decays
I’ve grown simpler in these hours
Dying, a bit each day
Though I admire great things that
Can somehow outlive their maker
Even if they have a false shine
As most human things do
And have a tinge of exaggerated
Self-importance, their relatively silly grandeur
I can lecture on the cruelty of men
And the sadism of women
Who care more for clan and religion
Than any real human goodness
We live in ignorant times
And the world is growing more illiterate
Each year, but that is not my affair
The disgrace of catalyst has yet to unfold
And how I shun the self-righteousness
Of the young, what they don’t know yet….
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 10:20 PM UTC
on her ascendancy to the boss's chair
Janice was always so lovely of air
she'd praise all the staff abundantly
seemingly in her it flowed genuinely
the future self of Janice came to light
when she gained the acme's peak height
everyone then received her nasty treats
there wasn't much delight to the bleats
attitudes toward others did change
how an executive role can rearrange
people skills are Janice's weak point
hence a dislike of her being at the joint
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 8:24 PM UTC
.....Lo, forth I do march,
Hell's scorch fuels the ascendancy
Into solemn inner battle amongst
Myselves,
I am a poem at war with words,
The pen a bride like some spectral
Verbiage- luminosity antagonisong
The swell of ferocity, I do cling
As the audascious hope gathers its wounds
And scatters like petals in the furious winds,
The forbearance of that knife
Wielded within the self,
Self against self,
The battle rages against the heart,
Against the mind,
Down to the very soul!
In the craftmans tomb,
A poem floods the inner sanctum
And the march forward seems
Like a depression plowing
The fields of memory,
Oh what dreams may come
May also haunt.
And one drops many a word,
The war inside like flock
Of crows into the blinding light,
I still here could not give in,
The soul still battles its flesh....
Nov 28, 2015
Nov 28, 2015 at 10:09 PM UTC
With the furrowing of my intelligent brow
With my glistening muscle and brawn
And my rhythmic thrusts in shrouds of mist
Father, see me build a home for the young
With my smile and my agony alternating
And formidable forces galore frustrating
The creativity of my persistent yearnings
Father, see me build a place called home
With pangs of regret and sorrow banished
In moments of temporary accommodation
And with joy unlimited in the ascendancy
Father, see me build from a fusion of desires
Spurred on by the mellow essence of femininity
Wrapped like a surprise in garments of pleasantry
Blown gently to float like soap bubbles in the air
Father, thus see me grip an opportunity come
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 5:03 AM UTC
I cant live with my profound instability
I cant be the poison and the remedy
I can inform, enlighten, give an idea;
cant explain how my reality's so severe
Not willing to accept that I am actually an addict
That my day to day life is controlled by a habit
Over indulgence in substance abuse
Determined by no reasonable excuse
Taunted by inner demons I have created
Suffer of Psychotic schizophrenia; drug related
Will power ceases to exist never to reappear
Self control lost with the inability to commandeer
Sobriety brings lack of interest, days mundane
From the daily use of speed i must refrain
The need for a high overcomes any felt lows
No lesson learnt from how bad my mind goes
My own worst enemy from drug dependency
No one else to blame because of ascendancy
ever seeking that intoxicating rush and feeling
until i realise that its from addiction i need freeing.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 4:15 AM UTC
Were you well as sunlight's ascendancy left darkening footnotes everywhere?
Their cerebral pitch and polish--
non compos mentis, were you well?
Stalactited as Nostrefaru's leaking enamel...emergent, crooked shape of a shifting focal point overspread to no more of itself.
Your sun hissed as it plumbed its depth...covert feelers circumscribed the injunction of tongue caught at speak, bifurcated and serpentine.
Wherefrom runnels of india ink ran, corresponded with stones to their haphazard period, numb with duplication...broken down nervously.
Feb 16, 2017
Feb 16, 2017 at 1:27 PM UTC