"behaved" poems
When we met, love Obnubilated me.
I became bananas about you.
I wanted to be luculent.
Just to be Pauciliquent.
I however felt like a blatherskite.
You probably thought I was a glaikit.
Did I sound like a meacock instead?
If so, it’s due to kakorrhaphiophobia.
I might have operose my feelings.
Did it seem like I wanna mamaguy you?
You behaved like a frondeur.
Your callipygian body looked extramundane.
Your hair looked ulitichous.
Did you feel like I lusted your Callipygian shape?
I foresaw a love that won’t flatline.
If it does, it will be eucatastrophe.
Now we’re together, I’m disenthrall from Misogamy.
You’re a deipnosophist and a mixologist.
I’m edcious.
To keep you happy, I share a boffola.
To me, love felt like a Humdudgeon.
Apr 10, 2018
Apr 10, 2018 at 6:46 PM UTC
There is something magical
in the whirring
of a midday laundromat.
A cessation of pride,
maybe.
People all dressed in sweatpants
the air full of detergent smell
and the sound of coins clicking
against great tumblers
as they go round
and round
and round
and round...
The people smile back,
no use pretending superiority here.
Whistlers twitter on, folding towels and socks into neat, organized piles.
The children are well behaved,
their hands full of potato chips
given by their parents as a pittance for their patience.
The patient patrons
ponder on,
their empty hands crumpling receipts.
This, with the crunching of chips
and the distant whistle
over the percussion of clicking
coins clattering
in a dryer
compose an unintentional opera,
an ode to humility.
Humility's honorable honesty heals humanity's hubris.
Noisy trucks pass outside the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows,
Where the hot air wreaks its violence
and men make their ways
in spite.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 5:00 PM UTC
the clay patio was baking
just hot
enough for the dough to rise and crisp
and for you to spread your blanket
in the sun
perfect for a picnic with the kids
and observing the man on that really tall bicycle
it’s times like these when you think
why doesn’t everyone just shut off
and bake in the sun
with a glass of peach tea and a pair
of well behaved kids
who share life like it was their job to love
each other
their mother
dad
and especially
the old dog
even the young lovers get jealous
as their gaze from the park to
your front patio
witnessing that there is something more to love
than just body heat
chocolate-dipped strawberries
and jazz clubs
that children grow like spinach flowers
in mellow
medallion
heat
until the training wheels come off
and they feel earth’s balance for the first time
and the peaches!
they shackle the branches
like juicy bombs
and you decide that
mothers are like fruit
unbruised
unwashed
and perfect
something that God
herself
keeps in her finest
crystal bowl and replants
in the summer
mother
sister
friend
shoot me some of that peach tea
you’re drinking
that sun you are soaking
that air you are breathing
the world needs more of you
and you deserve the last taste
of its summer light
Feb 16, 2016
Feb 16, 2016 at 4:55 PM UTC
Evolution
(Poem by Serenus)
Many people don’t believe in evolution
But I’m determine to evolve
Then I’ll start a revolution
And get the masses involved
We’ll spread the message like pollution
Love will be our cause
Hate needs a substitution
Or else- nothing will be solved
We will be immune to evil
A sickness that can
Never again take control
No more hatred or animosity
It’s like cancer to the soul
No more violence or war
One day we’ll look back in horror
And wonder, what was it all for?
One day we’ll rise above the fray…
And be disgusted
By the way we behaved…
Racism
Sexism
Slavery
The holocaust
War of religions
Terrorism
Torture…
How could we have been so lost?
As a people
We don’t have a choice
But to evolve
Or else-
As a people…
We will all dissolve.
Oct 1, 2012
Oct 1, 2012 at 12:41 AM UTC
We once burned witches...
No.
We burned people who were accused
of being witches or practicing witchcraft...
never proven but still burned....
burned alive...
wether or not they were witches
will remain unknown
and why should it
have mattered if they were,
what excuse was that to have
behaved so maliciously hateful and cruel
I will tell you this though
if I had been a witch
or knew any kind of witchcraft
the first thing i would have done
is work out a fire proof charm
perfected an unburnable spell
an I can walk through the fire
and feel a hell of a lot better
after doing so spell
a my blood and bones
burn hotter than the sun spell
a you better get that
little matchstick outta my face spell
before I show you how to burn
THE REAL MONSTERS here spell
the monsters with the lust
to watch flesh turn
to cinder and ash monsters
the monsters who feared
the unordinary who showed
any kind of extraordinary monsters
the monsters of the masses
with crosses that burned
like torches monsters
the monsters who screamed ******
in the name of....
monsters
the monsters who could not see
their own reflection
for the hideous creatures
they were monsters
the same monsters that still live today
on this side of the looking glasses
under our thin skinned social structure
still burning witches
subtly now
with words of disdain
full of pernicious intentions
towards the lost and the lonely
with the cold staring eyes of indifference
and hearts without an once of compassion
towards the homeless and hungry
with the revulsion and abhorrence
towards those who love
the ones they love
the witches being any unordinary
that show any kind of extraordinary
still being feared for their difference
still being hated
reduced to nothing but
pill size suicides
red ribboned wrists
rope neck ties
for feeling too much
pushing too far
flying too high
dancing in cinder to ash
being burned
burned for being alive
Sep 1, 2018
Sep 1, 2018 at 3:32 AM UTC
I dreamed I was at work
And everyone was naked but me.
A bunch of naked co-workers
As far as my eyes could see.
They were pointing at me laughing
The moment I walked through the door.
They behaved as they didn’t
Know was clothing was for.
Pointed at my chest area
Right were my ******* would be
And at my crotch as well
And asked me “How do you ***
All of that material there.
It really must get in your way.
So, what’s the big idea
Why did you come to work that way?”
I mumbled and I stumbled
And bumbled my way to reply.
I told them I really didn’t quite
Understand all of why
They were all naked here, and
I was wearing a lot of clothes.
I finally told them all that
Sometimes this is how it goes.
They started laughing again
And one girl tried to make amends.
She said the pants I had on
Gave me a very cute rear end.
My face turned red, I said thanks.
And some said I was blushing.
I headed back to my desk, trying
Not to look like I was rushing.
I woke up still kind of giggling
And yet had a feeling of unease.
I remembered the embarrassment
Feeling being dressed was a disease.
Usually it’s the reverse, of course.
I am the one walking around bare.
But something in this dream that night
Helped me see some of the meaning there.
Dec 12, 2015
Dec 12, 2015 at 5:45 AM UTC
Walking around like a pack of animals
Following each other
copying what we see,
What really separates us from animals?
We talk, we think, we try to explain
but we also follow, we do as we told, we believe what is said
We work, we build, we have fun
but I'm still not seeing what truly separates us from animals
The only thing that I see different is our power
anything different we try to hurt, **** or experiment on
if any animal behaved like a human
what do you think we would do to it?
We'd experiment, we'd **** we would torture
or put it on TV and turn it in to a celebrity.
So I ask what truly separates us from animals?
Jul 14, 2014
Jul 14, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
Evil & crime so predictable & stale.
Stupid how arrested suspects get bail.
Convicted when their victims tell.
Prison is where some stay & are jailed.
They have to communicate by mail.
Sometimes their focus goes in another direction.
Where probation happens after correction.
Child & spousal abuse, drug use, & rehab that is no use.
History repeats
Wives & children still get beat.
Their isn't always a Superman or Batman to be your hero.
With a sword or crossbow.
Details of armed robbery , drug dealing & smuggling.
Stabbings & muggings.
On the inside homosexual love with cuddling.
Human trafficking & prostitution.
Violating amendments & constitutions.
They are how they are from how they were raised.
If their victims could speak from the grave
Or had they been saved.
They could explain & describe how their rapists & killers behaved.
Male & females do their time.
Years in custody for their crimes.
Seriousness of their offenses vary.
Some educate, get jobs, or marry.
Behind bars is where violence belongs.
To be punished for all that they did wrong.
Some from death row are now dead.
Similar to the wildlife in a zoo behind bars they get fed.
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 11:11 PM UTC
I stand there and smile and check them in
I answer all of their stupid questions with a pleasant grin
8 hours of this then I'll be free
None of these people care how they treat me
Their snotty and rude and make a mess
I've never behaved this way while being a hotel guest
They turn up their nose's and spend money all week
Then when it comes to the bill they want to be cheap
A discount here a discount there
And when I say, "No", they grit their teeth and stare
They yell loud and scream like I will bend or cry
Thanks to the survellience camera I have an alibi
In my head I start to wonder
"Isn't this the guest that asked for a plunger?"
"He's complained about the food and our lovely staff."
"He's dissing our lamps and even our town maps."
"Then he comes to the front desk to fuss and cuss."
"He's pointing his fingers and having a fit."
"Yuk! He's talking so fast his mouth is collecting spit."
I decided that was it I had enough
Working in the service industry is tough
But all I could do was stand there and smile
And this is what played in my head all the while
When people start to scream and shout
This is what I do to tune them out...............
This is a test of the Emergency **** Off System.
This is only a test
insert sound here
Sep 16, 2012
Sep 16, 2012 at 10:45 PM UTC
Mother Nature
(Poem by Serenus)
Mother, Oh Mother
You’re such a woman scorn
Your children mistreated you
And now we’re caught in your storm
Your womb, birthed the earth
And from the earth, we were born
We use to be so close
But now we’re just a family torn
Smoke stole your sweet scent
We scorched your beautiful hair
Your skin sealed in cement
Suffering from thirst, but we didn’t care
We force fed you poison
We put a price on your head
Taking your gifts for granted
And we left you for dead
But Mother, Oh Mother
You have come back
With a vengeance!
Your temper is heated
With no signs of forgiveness
Your touch use to be gentle
Tough-love, but modest
But your backlash has been brutal
The judgment of a goddess
Hurricanes, acid rains,
Monsoons, tsunamis
Droughts, water spouts
And quakes that sneak up calmly
Blizzards, floods, tornadoes, and wildfires
And we never cried for you Mommy
Now our situation is absolutely dire
We are begging for a day that’s balmy
To protect yourself from your people
You are fighting back
And all we can do is stop our evil
Reflect-and stand back
But Mother, Oh mother
Can we be saved?
Or have you sealed our fate
For the way we behaved?
…Before she can be her children’s savor
Rescue us, from our own bad behavior
She must save herself "first
So don’t blame her
She’s a mother
Protective power
Is in her nature
She said she’ll get back to us later
…First she has to communicate
With “The Father”…Her creator
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 7:45 PM UTC
A dozen fellows draped in threadbare tread densely,
Profligating goons in obsidian gowns
gathered under rainbow
moonshine shaking bronze hands,
howling and ****** in the shambles of the moon,
rap'n and nod'n to the notes of midnight.
The mellow marines mourned over malice,
lionizing over lost ones,
many howled venerated, exalted in wonder
in favor of their thrilling grace, and delight,
and brilliance, and might!
but some neighboring sticklers,
behaved haughty and in disdain,
of the crowdy Cavaliers bellowing echoes
signaling out
to the seers of the sea,
singing to the wands overwatching the wedding,
and ravens listened,
roving like noble patrolsmen.
Traveleres and trainees at sea
humble and bright
niave, and frieghtened
in traverse,
volatile and toiling,
tireless,
Lunatics, (laughing, laughing, laughhing,)
Rumaging through rain,
fireciely,
rallying and rableroused,
through towering halls of mohogony,
hefty and wholesome were their hearts
though, beast of the woodsy edifice
were foul and benumb
scowling with contempt,
haste to devide and devised to hindrance.
Hence the heroes heed
to the valleys of rose, and violet,
and strawberry fields of forever,
seeking Saint Nicholas,
in the bustling Byzantium,
in the murky shadows of doubt.
Sep 18, 2018
Sep 18, 2018 at 10:08 AM UTC
Lions of this far country,
of this desolated arid land,
exhibited unusual signs of ferocity-
-you could see it in their eyes, the way they moved and how they behaved.
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 5:23 PM UTC
His kalenjin tribesmen planned for tribal wars to cleanse kikuyus and luhyias
From the their lands, planned out of tribal sadism,
He was fully aware, as he understood the kalenjin coded language of war
And preparation for war, war of the years 2007 and 2008,
He did not give any holy bishopric **** to save his non indigenous folks
The people to be killed and tribally cleansed were the members
Of his catholic church in the dioceses of Eldoret,
The ones to **** were his kalenjin tribesmen,
But bishop korir could not counsel nor forewarn,
He did not give out any peace focused advice
That a catholic should not **** a catholic
Because of politics or worldliness,
Instead he gave respect to his tribal sentimentality
He behaved as a kalenjin first then a catholic later,
A spiritual paradox of the century,
Only equated in the Biafra tribal sentimentality between igbos and yorubas
Redolent of European ****** or the American ku Klux ****
But after all the non kalenjin Catholics from his dioceses
Had been killed, burned up in the church, ***** up
Homoerotically perhaps in the madness of tribal scorn,
That they now became refugees in their own country; Kenya
And then solemnly condemned to the refugee camps,
Is when Bishop korir Cornelius came out of his tribal kernel
With vices of a kipskiss sadist , holy rosary in his hand,
Singing an out dated poem of Hail Mary the ******
Mother of Jesus Christ to them, the IDPS,
He then promoted a priest from his tribe,
The one kimengich up the hegemonic altar to become
The bishop of Lodwar from where they loot
The illiterate turkana catholic peasants their relief foods,
And even jobs, and clothes, only to give to those who are not needy,
To the kalenjin who are not even catholic nor marginalized, some even Moslem,
All these happens in the sweetness of tribal syndrome,
A social disease which the holy sacrament of the catholic faith
Have not and never will heal Bishop Cornelius korir.
May 24, 2014
May 24, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
After comparing lives with you for years
I see how I’ve been losing: all the while
I’ve met a different gauge of girl from yours.
Grant that, and all the rest makes sense as well:
My mortification at your pushovers,
Your mystification at my fecklessness—
Everything proves we play in separate leagues.
Before, I couldn’t credit your intrigues
Because I thought all girls the same, but yes,
You bag real birds, though they’re from alien covers.
Now I believe your staggering skirmishes
In train, tutorial and telephone booth,
The wife whose husband watched away matches
While she behaved so badly in a bath,
And all the rest who beckon from that world
Described on Sundays only, where to want
Is straightway to be wanted, seek to find,
And no one gets upset or seems to mind
At what you say to them, or what you don’t:
A world where all the nonsense is annulled,
And beauty is accepted slang for yes.
But equally, haven’t you noticed mine?
They have their world, not much compared with yours,
But where they work, and age, and put off men
By being unattractive, or too shy,
Or having morals—anyhow, none give in:
Some of them go quite rigid with disgust
At anything but marriage: that’s all lust
And so not worth considering; they begin
Fetching your hat, so that you have to lie
Till everything’s confused: you mine away
For months, both of you, till the collapse comes
Into remorse, tears, and wondering why
You ever start such boring barren games
—But there, don’t mind my saeva indignatio:
I’m happier now I’ve got things clear, although
It’s strange we never meet each other’s sort:
There should be equal chances, I’d’ve thought.
Must finish now. One day perhaps I’ll know
What makes you be so lucky in your ratio
—One of those ‘more things’, could it be? Horatio.
3k
THE LAST BREADTH OF EARTH
What a human race,
That destroys its own living place,
Looking just for a minute comfort,
They flew the Earth to distress,
They cut the trees which are like its lifeline,
They still use the plastic which is leading it to death time,
They still increase the population which leads water to dry,
They still waste the water which causes many farmers to die,
They try to find new planet to live,
But they don't think to save Earth from being killed,
They don't try to stop nuclear experiments,
But they only try to do sustainable developments,
They increase the global warming like population,
Even they blamed nature and god for its increasing destruction,
They killed all the humanity of them,
They only worked to earn name and fame,
Their activities started destroying mankind,
Then some people kneked that they are destroying human kind,
Even they are the most intelligent animals,
They behaved like dull animals,
Humans behaved like most greedy animals,
They behaved like each others pradetor,
Love for others died in humans,
Desire to help others is being rear to hear,
They gave a new birth to distruction,
Then the nature started to make destruction,
Water crisis were only starring,
Then an Earthquake came to give a notice,
Other scenes are in front of humans,
If they won't stop then nature will show a big misbehavior,
This is the time to refresh the Earth,
This is the time to save the Earth. Written by : SHASHANK KARN
Jul 13, 2017
Jul 13, 2017 at 12:33 AM UTC
I found seashells and driftwood,
Cans and bottles and much more
Like diapers and picnic stuff
While walking along the shore.
I found cigarette butts and bags
And those horrendous soda holders
That catch on sea life and twist them
In their middle or at their shoulder.
I saw palm trees and jacaranda
Waving in the balmy breeze
And broken plastic lawn chairs
Leaning against the lovely trees.
I found six-packer carriers sitting
With all the beer bottles inside.
I saw pieces of bicycles and big batteries
And I swear I almost sat and cried.
But I had too much to do right then
Gathering up all that random junk.
I carried them to a ******* bin
And I threw it all in, kerthunk!
I wondered for the hundredth time
The parents these creeps had
That let them grow so ill behaved,
And so embarrassingly bad.
What kind of selfish brat can come
And look out on this lovely scene
And throw their ******* all around?
How can they be so mean?
It makes me hope for recompense;
That what goes around come again
And we can stash these human pigs
Into an appropriate kind of pen.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 6:45 PM UTC
A Bountiful Sky for Foolish Old Men
early up, haunted-stoked~woked by a multilingual sky,
an impish childish creation of an immature god,
inconsistently incapable, of making up his moody mind,
whiny then smiley, cloudless besotted, morphed
into crystalline blue of a well behaved in Sunday best,
warming the souls of the begotten and the misbegotten,
the hardened and the poetic souls, tho he laughs at
himself, for he too is both, curmudgeon and a mr. softee,
whiny child in rapid aging body, wearing of discovery
of new places for to ache, pains that don’t fit med scales
of 1~10, unless it is the Richter Earthquake formulation.
despite all, his eyeballs seethe, immaculate degeneration still
allows the seeing of broad brush paint strokes of the team of
angelic artistes that do the detailing of the palette above,
how!
they, love their big bold brushes that sky swipe atmospheric
residue into 31 Baskin Robbins flavors, with swirls of caramel
chocolate butterscotch that make the man’s complaints whisked
into who-cares-a-damn anyway ice creamery reverie and all
that other stuff disbarred from the aborning morning clarity of
“good morning ole man, where’s my coffee” diurnal tuning that
the women hums, reminding those in the earshot crowd of one,
that s’mores and chores, tasks and at lasts, dogs need walking, gardens watering, cushions plumping, evening dishes moving from dishwasher onto wallpaper-covered shelves, geese-away-chasing, and loving poetry
by a poetoftheway scribbling…
8:01 AM Frieday, Jun 30
Jun 30, 2023
Jun 30, 2023 at 8:32 AM UTC
Filling in the blanks.
Throw away worn out pages from the journal of my past.
Forgetting names, relationships that didn't last.
No class, sensible sass on the *** of my jeans.
Playing with words when I want to be mean.
Don't want to be needy.
Forgotten peace treaty with the demons eating my psyche.
I'm ugly, you're boring, we're all like vampires feeding on each other.
Undeniable hate, but I still always say "We should love one another."
Denial undercover, smother the problems I'm not yet equipped to recover from with a sly wit.
Another temporary fix to cover up the shiit that somehow replaced the mud and the blood in my veins.
I'm lonely and strange and beginning to prefer it this way.
Not well behaved, I don't feel like pretending to be today.
That's okay, I'll try again tomorrow.
Indian giver, time's always borrowed.
Mostly hollow but I'm trying harder every day to gain the patience it takes to fill in the blanks.
Aug 22, 2020
Aug 22, 2020 at 10:47 PM UTC
Never behaved in the school porcine;
Had wise words for everyone to opine;
Full of wise thoughts and memories refine;
Rachana Sharma is ready without any supine.
An eyesore progress she achieved school in
Even the trustees could no longer decline;
Her help for others whenever did she design
Was a feast – a great help and fun to dine.
For 8 years was she my dear mentor fine
From whom I learnt how to continuously grin
In adverse situations and start from begin
So that new fight and efforts lead you to win.
Earlier she was looking like a pumpkin
But now she managed her past confine:
Looking beautiful, smart, nifty and divine
Is ready ever any problem to define.
She is my inspiration, she is my Kline,
She is the best lady as a helpful friend in.
With her I developed Monorhyme fine;
And defeated many enemies malign.
A good mentor and nice for nation mine
Is none than Rachana - a brave feline.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
Arctic and Pure
cups emptied of Western laziness
gratis
Sapphire tears and sparkling beams
gathered from the fields
shining Pez and elecution exercises
Hey Miss, Tell me something
a poem
about everyplace
no fooling, You're so serious
and the serfs of the modern hovels are well behaved
and none
fleshen bodies
heads full of squishy wishes
consumme
my amusement is like a panacea
a corporeal healing
Flying who-I-haven't-people
someone down in my
constant solar blaze,
one who I devote all clear evidence
all the right answers,
fairness
Ignorance always harms our potential
reveal deaths inconsequence and void
flying through tunnels
creating opportunities for life.
Aug 1, 2012
Aug 1, 2012 at 7:22 AM UTC
there was a little bear he lived in the wood
he was well behaved and always very good
always used his manners just as he was tought
and for every body he always had a thought.
one day in the woods as he was passing by
suddenly from no where he heard a little cry
he moved a little closer so he could hear the pitch
there he saw an hedgehog who had fallen in a ditch
he was very sad and he began to cry
followed by a sniffle and a great big sigh
dont worry said the bear i know what to
i will get a branch and hand it down to you
bear he got the branch from a fallen tree
handed it to hedgehog to climb up and be free
hedgehog he got out to the forest floor
happy once again he was free once more
hedgehog thanked the bear and went along his way
now there the best of friends bear had saved the day.
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
i've recently come
to the heart-shattering conclusion
that i do not
and never did
love you
i only loved
how you made me feel
on lonely nights
you behaved as if i put
the starts in the sky
the leaves on trees
the petals on roses
the fish in the sea
i loved it when you told me
you'd always be there
you lied when you said
you'd never let go of my hand,
and i lied when i told you
my hand was only made for yours to hold
because here i am,
without you by my side
and i think i'm going to be okay
i think i always knew
you'd eventually let go
May 10, 2013
May 10, 2013 at 12:30 PM UTC
The world is not as it seems
I've seen my life end a thousand times
In someone else’s prognostic dream
I have no name just a rank
As my years from home towered
My faith in humanity sank
When I commit suicide can it be said I died in battle?
I fear I am trivial
The last of mine kind
But I am not endangered because nobody cares
I see the world for how it is
Patterns, patterns within patterns repeated
A once unstoppable force now crippled and defeated
I do not morn or pity the dead
I envy them they're better off in my head
I'm the survivor but to what end?
When I commit suicide can it be said I died in battle?
My goldfish died, number three hundred and five
He was all I had in the world, he was my world
But I'll buy another bringing him back alive
I don't miss my family
I wasn't taught how
It isn't my fault I am cold and shallow
I've killed and saved
I've reassured those who'll never be cured
But when I'm dead I'll be called well behaved
But I'm the light of the world just more depraved
Jul 9, 2014
Jul 9, 2014 at 7:15 AM UTC