"auctioned" poems
when I say last year I hit an all time low,
I mean that I spent two hundred and eighty nine days without sunlight,
I’ve never known a rose to grow immersed in eternal night -
auctioned off my heart for the gift of sight,
I wonder how long I’ve lived my life blinded by the rose tinted glass?
false love will have you struggling to distinguish between gold and brass.
I draw out the sequence.
your palms met her flesh,
my reflection in the mirror is reduced to ash.
I feel my heart hit the floor,
blood stains in the carpet - proof that love does not live here anymore
next time just wrap them around my neck,
I get the same hand of cards
out of every single deck.
from love,
suffocating, choking,
that is the only sensation I have come to expect,
you know that better than me,
extinguished every fire set to your trees,
don’t you remember?
she left everything around you to burn,
choked on all the smoke,
still you fixated on all the ember,
if this body was ever not hollow,
I wouldn’t remember.
two hundred and eighty nine days,
I spent treading in the shallow,
moulded my existence out of clay just to fill another persons shadow.
Aug 23, 2021
Aug 23, 2021 at 9:20 PM UTC
a quote of Bernard-Henri Lévy
~~~
the divers’ recovery, diverse,
shipwrecked salvage from different locations,
auctioned to the highest bidder,
tho the excised excerpts are exceptional,
none come to do the bidding,
for the provenance of words
belongs to all, and to none
~~
“so oft we trifle words,
expel them from the country of our body,
without passport and earnestness,
as if they were the cheapest of footnote filler,
day tourists, to be treated as leavings,
refuse for daily discardation,
barely noting their fast comings and faster disappearance,
but leaving not, a mark of distinction”
“the addicted pleasure words granted to we privileged few,
like every enslaved soul to the mind, which I am, I am,
evening dreams, midnight thinkings, sunrise seeings,
how can I infect and thus protect the young to the liberty
to love the crafted content of our human essence to better
comprehend that a moment caught on tape of our shared
words is a holiday, a celebration for the ages...and every molecule,
becomes a human tuning fork in concert, in pitch identical, in blood tainted with the simplicity of we are all the same, only words, this will transmit”
“murmur me, with soft downy charms,
these words discovered
recoursed and intended well to
pointedly offset and contradict
their very own tumultuous discovery uncovering,
tear tongue me
with calming, lapping word wages,
hymns harmonious and fine homilies,
a call, a request,
a bequest
to sedate my shrill life
“some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally,
aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes,
making me speak in tongues I do not recognize,
but fluently possess, no wonder there,
the memory place fairly empty,
room aplenty for passerby's and the imagery
of the vaguest of dearly departed
skin is not the only mot shed,
sloughing of woeful words”
“speak them slow and distinct,
for they arrive slow to you,
a trickling of refugees for your sheltering,
harbor them as full companions,
protected by natural law,
provision them well,
prepared and ever ready for a quick departure,
moor these words at the embarcadero,
for the next restless leg of endlessness,
which they themselves will inform you
will last longer than eternity,
long after there are no humans to speak them”
Mar 27, 2019
Mar 27, 2019 at 4:55 AM UTC
Sell yourself, everyday.
A little more, everyday.
Numbers, lists, and names
I've lost count
What's one more?
Eventually I'll be gone
all gone, every piece
auctioned, sold to
numbers, lists, and names
of men whose strange faces
I don't know and can't remember.
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 8:43 PM UTC
A woman rests like a bud with poise
Smiling at the echoes of the posh world's voice
She is the cloud that carries the rain
Giving life to man's soul parched from anxieties and pain
Her value is more than all the world's treasures,
Not just the sum of scale's unit measures
To teach her the kiss of fame
And help her bloom in society like a flower
Few steps far to rule the science of space
Some working hard to make it swirl in daze
Some writing books down in the meadows
While some dance like divas casting beautiful shadows
And some are tender enough to tend to sick people
With supreme motherly love and the wisdom of peepal
Some express the feelings by the magic of their paint brush,
Which is auctioned pretty high to empty others purse
In the midst of these successful women
There does exist a fearsome creature we call men
When will the sun rise in the sky
And bring those hidden buds talents to life
To conquer the world with their passions
And make the world shiver in awe by their fashion
To come up in life with a mission
Possessing colorful profession
And one should understand that
A woman is the pillar of a temple foundation
Where a man comes and goes with renewed inspirations
A woman is the flesh that holds the seed
The miracle of birth fullfilling human need
A woman is the mother of a new generation
And only we can be the direction of that aspiration
Apr 15, 2014
Apr 15, 2014 at 7:01 AM UTC
Thinning orchid hair
Velvet bruised lips
moving, glassy eyed
an auctioned body.
Dancing on the wind
Today's terrible twilight
Idol eyes on the world...
lingering,looking.
Angel kissing tracks
falling is falling
spinning rooms
twirling on stilts
Feb 8, 2011
Feb 8, 2011 at 4:23 PM UTC
The straw that broke the camel's back
Was auctioned off on Ebay
And bought by an amnesiac
Who liked collecting hay.
If possession is nine-tenths of the law
All I need to do now
Is buy the final straw
And then he was sectioned
And taken away.
Jun 6, 2014
Jun 6, 2014 at 7:16 AM UTC
The exploration of womanhood,
viewed by a child, who had failed to birth an heir
and was auctioned amidst a war,
to lay beside the man who Lyrnessus heard before it saw,
and felt, before they felt nothing at all.
Plucked from childhood to motherhood,
failed motherhood, into obedience and slavery,
despised by her husband's mother for the absence of life she yearned to grow.
Then veiled in a soft pearlescent,
that blurred, but did not hide, the reason she survived,
and her brothers and husband did not.
Her barren belly proved a blessing when the girls in tents sprouted kleos from their swollen stomachs,
to carry the son of foreigners, bloodthirsty for their native home.
These girls, they are just girls, brainwashed by glory and trauma,
carry children that will slaughter their brothers of blood,
in the name of a woman seen only as a measurement of egotistic revenge.
And what of Briseis?
Aristos Achaion, they cried.
To them, he will always be: the best of the Greeks,
even after Apollo favours the hand of Paris and forges fate to impale the accidental hamartia.
What is her legacy?
Aristos Achaion, they cry.
As the boy who carries his blood rises from the fire and carries forward after his father's body hit the ground.
Nov 28, 2018
Nov 28, 2018 at 4:01 PM UTC
.
Today I went
to Hell,
to sell my soul
to the Devil.
I don't know how
it happened,
but I wound up
buying his.
Now I own
the tortured spirit
of an angel
fallen and disgraced.
He wants it back
so it can't pass
auctioned into the
wrong hands.
The dilemma
beckons an answer
from eternities
waiting hordes.
A decision so large
the universe
holds its breath
in chaotic silence.
I don't know how
it happened
but I've ended up
becoming the Devil.
© Pagan Paul (2016)
Jun 13, 2017
Jun 13, 2017 at 5:24 PM UTC
Tick tock
rapping of the clock.
A cold dead sham
of another mans cog.
So lay it down
on the hangman's block.
To sick to see
how it shepherds its flock.
It holds no rime
masquerades as reason.
A facade of truth
Yet I call it treason.
It puts up the walls
to the common man's prison.
A tool to be used
for a stronger man's mission.
Time
a device of unity.
Implementing science
bordering necessity.
Auctioned off
by the leaders of economy.
You always work hard
but are left no time to dream.
Dreaming costs
who ever owns your time.
They look down at you
and threaten your life.
So you numb yourself
just to make a dime.
Soon you grow cold
lost in the grind.
In youth
there is imagination.
Unhindered
not subject to discrimination.
As they grow
so to do their nations.
Furthering thoughts
yet short lived contemplation.
For as you grow old
you give your time to corporations.
The more things change
the more they stay the same.
from the dawn of man
to the information age.
More time spent
till your in your grave.
Yet time well spent
promises better days.
So dont sacrifice
your life for time.
It all stands short
in perspective eyes.
A relative thought
not a device that binds.
Spend it happily
for every day of your life.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 9:23 AM UTC
She searched for PERFECTION, so she's ALONE
Expected beautiful stories, so the pages are BLANK
LOVED the fluttering stars, sold her sleep
PROCURED trust but auctioned her FREEDOM...
Jul 4, 2023
Jul 4, 2023 at 12:57 PM UTC
Know-it-all revelation celebration deflated with a
"no you ******* don't"
Cartesian cliche quotation.
So imagine mom's elation when she finally shut the **** up and moved up in conformist ranks
set trends and bred friends.
Thanks!
Thanks friends. Without you I'm just some pearly whites,
a sundress and a skewed perception of what is wrong and what is right
Future bright, like some little paper lantern glowing
but if the flame kisses pulp than than just gulp and take up sewing.
Because you're growing with the notion you're just some fish up in the ocean attracting fish nets with fishnets floatinghopingchoking
Choking on your words over 3 syllables it's a drag
I'm feeling bad
for the fact that I'm a man
**** you dad.
A slight ephebophillic fascination for the fairy folk
Till she spoke, and ruined the illusion I was going for
Little girls turned shiny objects
auctioned off to flyest bidder
Quit her after several children, physical evidence you did her
Hit her too, I feel the burden bared by my sister,
hung on the bottom rung just because her organs are within her.
teenaged girls are wasted on the their Y possessed cohorts
***** and ****** so guess what? your mother was a ***** too
Our system's banging **** ******* "get money" funny we weren't singing that song getting tucked in by our mommys
Nov 3, 2011
Nov 3, 2011 at 11:26 AM UTC
Inside their tombs, our martyrs are whispering,
Oh God, we are coming back.
On land they are lifting their hands,
and their voices grow in the silence of the grave:
Oh God, we are coming back.
Stones fall, ashes rise, and their eyes beam,
Oh God, we are coming back.
Our martyrs stepped out of their coffins,
lined up and raised the shout:
Shame on you cowards.
Our home is sold, our nation
a herd of sheep, and you sleep.
Our martyrs travel to Al Aqsa Mosque,
they pray in the churches of Lebanon,
they wander the streets of Jerusalem,
they break into prisons in every land.
They rise from the ashes of the captive home
and preach on every corner of a beaten nation.
They call in the midst of massacres,
God is greater than this man-made world,
God is greater than this man-made world,
God is greater than this man-made world.
Our martyrs are approaching, their shouts echoing
on the walls of Beirut. They gather in the streets
to fight in darkness despite the pale light.
In homes bound by humiliation and madness, they call,
Oh God we are coming back.
One day our coffins will light all of Jerusalem.
They are coming back to break into the castle.
***
On every corner, they ask the cowards,
Why did you tolerate the wolf, sleeping
amidst sheep, a home as whole as the universe
auctioned off, overrun with rats?
Cowards who sold out our broken home,
our living ancestors, there you are
on the screen, drunk in the fuss,
walking Death, hypocrisy, and control,
we will rid our holy dead of you,
and of the irony of the age.
Oh God we are coming back.
Don’t believe that people killed
in a battle for God are dead,
they are still alive in God.
***
Our martyrs, roaring on every corner of the land,
streams of them asking,
Oh living, what are you doing?
Every day you’re double-crossed and slain
like sheep, surrendering your rights,
running like rats to the wolves,
leaving your people weeping
while you are prostrate before America’s
dollars and the images on screen.
Rats in all sorts of compromising ways.
And in the mad laughter of calamity,
a nation is sold into collapse.
Two images collapse into one:
while kneeling,
your heads under their shoes,
and our Arab Jerusalem,
given to wolves by the drunken.
***
With Lebanon adrift in blood, and tyranny
on the prowl, our martyrs shout
from every corner, Does honor
have a place? Where have the rebels
disappeared? Why have the sellouts fled?
The silent, the forgetful, and the two-tongued
all keep their mouths shut.
If you ask, they give you official nonsense.
If you ask, you get a bullet in the eye.
***
When you march in the parade of commerce
you wind up sold. History shows traitors
no mercy. The flood washes
over all of you chasing death
with the ad-man chasing you
to sell you tomorrow in the slave market.
Our priests are oblivious in their seats,
drunk on the power of reign and rule.
Our people in prison-darkness. All of them asleep.
When do the sleeping awaken?
When the sleeping wake.
Jul 2, 2018
Jul 2, 2018 at 10:48 AM UTC
*
I am waiting for that touch
I am waiting for that embrace
I am waiting for that glance
I am waiting for that smile
Where human dignity of LOVE
Will not be measured by
The value of education, prestige
Position, power or money
I am waiting for the moment when
Lover's self-respect won't be auctioned
I am waiting for the moment when
LOVER's emotions won't be suppressed
I am waiting for the moment when
LOVER's humility won't be challenged
I am waiting for the moment when
All masks will be discarded
I am waiting for the moment when
Each person is presented as a LOVER
I am waiting for the moment when
We won't see those
Lost tearful eyes of a LOVER
I am waiting for the moment when
We won't see the
LOVERS grow old waiting for a hug
And hold each other's hand
I am waiting for the moment when
We won't see each human
Choosing the path of work-life over LOVE
I am waiting for the moment when
We wont'see anyone
Doing any oppressive wrong to LOVERz
Let us pledge to bring
A morning like that
LET us show the world
What real TRUE LOVE is...
That is the day
Peace, Equality, Rights, Harmony
Will be born
A new wonderful world of LOVE
*
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 1:43 AM UTC
I was sold to pain
in a slave market
that didn't look like one,
auctioned by a civilized crowd
of people just like you and me
in everyday life,
posing as my comrades, acolytes or lovers.
I stood firm on my ground
unrelenting even in pain's intimidation
and said, what Valmiki
the first poet found,
"Grief gushes out in verse"
and I sing
alone.
Jun 1, 2014
Jun 1, 2014 at 5:29 AM UTC
I have collected Postal Stamps
Some of those were ancient
Some fresh prints
I have collected Postal Stamps
Some of those traveled
Some never worth-ed
I have kept Coins
Some of those were Gold
Some Rusty but precious
I have kept Coins
Some of those melted & lost
Some tempered & gone
I have claimed Automobiles
Some of those were Hot Rods
Some fragile Classics
I have owned Automobiles
Some of those were auctioned
Some been Junked
Except my one & only miNi cooper...
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 3:01 AM UTC
He wakes up at her hips
And will reject her lips
Before she is long gone
Because with her he’s done
He paid the wretched queen
And to her he was keen
Fair enough! She is off
To some masculine doll
His lust her skimpy scroll
In the night of the void
Her body ovoid
Circle seized disposed off
To the fancy of those
Who once gave her a rose
Made of a dollar bill
She is of love, ill, ill
Wondering she may not
About her condition
She will insert the coin
Into a random slot
Her marked lone ****
Bearing alienation
Her own ammunition
Longing for salvation
No lover at auction!
December, 3, 2015
Lyon 2 University, France.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 12:50 PM UTC
All the pain I've seen
Hidden in my eyes
People cruel and mean
Forcing out their cries
With whips and lashes
Shields and spears
Demonic clashes
As were filled with fear
Blood spraying across the field
Soldiers praying behind their shield
Arrows come down like the rain
Messengers delivering pain
Comes the demons of the past,
The devils legions screaming, this breaths your last,
As the blood sprays across my face
I tend to Embrace this demonic craze
Swords piercing hearts
"Beaten to death"
Tearing them apart
"Gasp your last Breath"
Their mothers cry
As their fathers die
Children orphaned
Lives are auctioned
Hatred in my eyes,curses the divine
They told us all lies
Took your life and mine
My soul as pure,as blood in me
******* by birth why cant u see,
What i am worth
Arrows soaring taking lives
Soldiers proving by their knives
Spears flying through the air
Killing people unjust and fair
Blood spraying across the field
Soldiers praying behind their shields
Comes the arrows delivering death
A single arrow and a last breath
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 9:43 AM UTC
CAUTION : Piece includes words that might create graphic pictures in your imagination so reader discretion is advised. Enjoy..
A story about a little girl who got robbed of her pride..
The truth she holds.. Makes her feel so cold as she unfolds..
The story she never told
The story that awakens the pits of hell
The story about a little girl
She was pinned against the wall
Being 15, she was a little small
Slapped and beaten to the point were she couldn't even crawl
Their ***** against the cookie..You know.. The *****
Tongue against her chest, between her *******
You can imagine the rest!
The constant touching and feelings
Her eyes? Glued to the cieling
Screaming, pleading..
Praying and begging the merciless men
To stop their merciless act..
All night long ******* her brains out..
I can see the agony in her eyes
Saying "Help me" but the words sentenced to life, refusing to get out!
The freight kissing.. The cookie licking
Forced to do the ball ******* and of course
The constant ******* The ******* The *******
Crying.. Weeping.. Till the point were
There were no more tears to shed,,
no more words to say..
It was like she got auctioned with these demon to bid, But she was just a kid!
Sold to the devil and his accomplice in the chair..
Pulled off the good life by the strands of her hair
She was like a puppet to them.. Dangling from limb to limb
"No one cares" they said..
Cutting her and ******* her, wishing she was dead..
She thought they were right you see..
"Cause all that time no one gave a **** about me"
But I do.. And you know why? Because she is little girl.. Just like me... Do You? <3
Oct 20, 2013
Oct 20, 2013 at 11:55 PM UTC
Crippled crowned crowds crawling for a crate
Craving to cry in crystalized cradles
Formed of fires in a fidgeting frame,
Favor the finest flavor for your fate!
Bedtime in a bleak baby-like babble
Blessed on his bustier blasting the blames
Gently gathering her gorgeous gauntlet
Glad to be glazed in the glass of his gin!
Soothed by his sights for this serene sin
Secretly seduced by this spoiled piglet
Whooshing wooden wildness withering
On the willing winding ***** whispering!
December, 3, 2015
Lyon 2 University, France
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
The money means nothing/
when the bankers control the cash.
In debt and receipts in pockets/
no value just expensive trash.
Study
Watch
Learn
Money talks
Living check to check is lost misfortune.
Tell friends, "No" when the ask for dough.
Plentiful items you don't need can be auctioned.
You'll never understand which way money flow.
Add
Subtract
Multiply
Divide
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
What is love
Simple kiss
Funky souls
Enjoying laughs
Reminisce
Vibrant shades
**** black
Brown
What is love
Thoughtful words
Vivacious sounds
Beautiful amber
Remember
What is love
Apathetic tongue
Lackadaisical licks
Sensual moments
Bliss
Whats is love
Man without owner
Claimed my heart
Long road
Cruising start
What is love
Created
Made
Shipped
Sold
Came
Stayed
Yes alluring tints
Pigmented perfection
This is love
Questions to the all knowing
Praised night
Answers
left lips
Sacrificed your name
This is us
You and i
I and you
Sat by myself
Getting close to you
No screen play
Lines be rehearsed
This is love
Sailed on sea
Ship to ship
They auctioned me
I stand proud
Turned my back to you
Turned my life around
This is love
Sent a dove to the sky
Flew beside me when you weren't by
This is love
It dwells between heaven you and I
Murray
Mar 12, 2012
Mar 12, 2012 at 2:25 PM UTC
Signals get mixed up
we're broadcasting ********
I'll shout 'til my mouth's dry
you'll spit like a dragon
the summers all static, now--
I'll wait for the season
to switch over channels
for less interference.
On mute.
Bracing our brains
for primetime quakes
**** off a day
trapped in escapes
The fate of the union,
the sake of my habits,
Estate of illusions
auctioned off from your pulpit
I'll shovel the static 'til
the street's within reaching.
Now follow new channels
with buzzing devotion
switched off.
Aug 10, 2013
Aug 10, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
Land is disappearing
ok, farms to be exact
swallowed up by cities
they're gone, and that's a fact
developers are buying
what the farmers now will sell
for the subdivision builders
who are waiting at the well
standing in a parking lot
of what used to be a farm
I remember corn and animals
and I remember a red barn
now, it is a big box store
selling food from somewhere else
grown in little laboratories
from little dishes on a shelf
there used to be a farm right here
a place that grew our food
we knew what we were buying
now we don't and we are *******
the big box stores keep coming
and they're starting to intrude
we once had farms and churches
now we don't and we are *******
I remember driving out of town
twenty minutes at the most
you'd pass by at least four farms
now the farmland is the host
to development and wind farms
No parks, just urban sprawl
no fields of cows and horses
just another **** strip mall
There used to be a farm here
it was sold to pay the tax
it was auctioned off in silence
behind the farmers backs
no more farms or farmers
no more barns with painted names
just big houses with no back yards
where you don't know your neighbors names
there used to be a farm right here
a place that grew our food
we knew what we were buying
now we don't and we are *******
the big box stores keep coming
and they're starting to intrude
we once had farms and churches
now we don't and we are *******
Apr 2, 2014
Apr 2, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
You are what you think.
You're a diamond in the rough.
But what you don't know
is that you're worth
more than all the shiny rocks
are
combined.
Then multiplied by
10.
$$$
can't buy you.
If people could be auctioned off,
just know.
You would be the
one that
was so valuable,
no body could even
afford
ti bid on.
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 12:22 AM UTC