"beneficiaries" poems
early after-noon, she quizzes,
“would I be ok with
skinless boneless roasted
chicken breast, with sautéed
mushrooms for our dinner,
ce soir?”
so smile I,
for it is a favored menu
of pleasure,
from one who has never
presented us a meal
that is less than perfect
later, she shyly inquires,
“would be ok if we to eat
a little early, I have a salon,
followed by an
Argentine Tango dance milonga
tonight and one starts early (and
tango parties
end typically
the next day?
(no|si, me, don’t dance)
of course, respondez in
the affirmative, thus
confirming our love with the
consideration that veins
out affection mutual
and then I add:
“instead of an hours food prep,
which distracts you from the hour
deeded for dressing
for dancing motivation proper,
and add a little kick-her:
*I love you so much,
would happily consume
your tuna fish salad sandwich,
every night, for the rest of our
lives together, it’s fast
and simple, a dis-less-stressing
concoction, that we both enjoy*
she (s)miles a sweetened thanks,
after numerous reassurances,
that our love only grows
stronger with acts of smart
sensitivity to each others needs,
no standard of care breached,
au contraire, meant sincerely,
earning me a secondary
whiling smiling
and this true story is a poem,
has been writ a thousand times,
in a million different tiny gestures,
of which, I am proud
she exhales a breath elongated,
a release of an admixture of differing
pleasures released, and goes into the
night to dance in the arms of strangers,
which concerns me
not at all,
after all,
these many years,
aware she moves exquisitely
in a dance that demands years
of practice, for it requires
intangible silent of the merest
slight finger pressures to guide
the dancer what next steps
are coy coming,
and I have stolen this
knot of knowledge,
for mine own purposes,
secretly & selfishly,
employing these techniques,
for most of the time we’ve
been together
this poem of
tuna fish sandwiches,
becomes a dance of words
which is
my specialty, which she will
read in the morning l, maybe,
if I send it to her,
though obviously,
that is unnecessary 😉
as she returns to our bed,
me asleeping, she,
exhaustingly satisfied,
sleeeps deeper
secured by the knowing
that we, are both,
the beneficiaries of:
my learned dancing
practices
for such is
the ways of the poet!
Dec 14, 2024
Dec 14, 2024 at 10:39 AM UTC
There is dirt mixed with blood
Underneath our fingernails
Our life is mixed with mud
While we fight and flail
The struggle is for my agency
Otherwise I feel they're ****** me
I feel they are replacing me
With an imposition of their will
Love as vast as the sea
Wouldn't get them their fill
Their emotions they ****
For a ****** thrill
That could be achieved by a pill
But instead they use power
For they understand in this hour
There is a mentality
Of fatality
Where we minimize our enemies to their negative desires
So we can build with our allies oppressive empires
Until the whole world is on fire
And these rapists can do as they please
When it's systemic they do it with ease
In a world without trust
They are the beneficiaries
They care only for lust
With actions incendiary
Burning the forest they hide in
Where our secrets provide their shade
Because overwhelming suspicion pervades
The image of all strangers
We see only danger
And our judgement is skewed
When everybody is considered a ******
Yet there are only a few
There is a moment
When I make a ****** decision
I am not sure what the recipient's reaction will be
There are two negative extremes to this situation:
1. I will **** them
2. They will falsely accuse me of ****
Our ****** lives are navigating these issues of trust
Between those extremes
But when our definition of ****
Starts to define the victim's comfort
As more important than the violator's intent
We show an unwillingness to understand and a bias
Which would give anyone reason to not trust someone
And the ****** atmosphere becomes one of uncertainty
People get into relationships so they don't have to worry about it
But bachelors must consider these things
**** victims must too
As well as the man sitting in prison for fraudulent claims
One has been illegally *****
The other has been ***** legally
I'd imagine both might see a world of rapists afterwards
Yet there are only a few
Dec 22, 2017
Dec 22, 2017 at 6:37 AM UTC
Sweet Heart passes
Uncle Sky its niece penny I thought you might like to know now that I die
Those wonderful fifties how nifty TV heroes and herons the joy replaced with a sigh
The truth is telling with heavy hearts and moistened eyes we must say good by
As Bob used to sing thanks for the memories yes we derived such pleasurable highs
Forget is not in our vocabulary there swirls to many good times they are not extinguished
Now that the family circle has decidedly grown smaller these golden days are distinguished
Pride and laughter seemed more readily back then innocents made it so now evil leads
We had less then they say well then it causes you to wonder while there are so many needs
Penny your curls so cute a light would go on when you would say uncle Sky
Try if you will but our new found good fortune will never be able this to buy
Grandparents with hair of silver and with their touch golden we mirror them now
For small treasures given to our care and trust lets hold to the past and not bow
They taught us the meaning of honesty and courage and to always have good character
Back then all were well rounded rock solid in them was found not one caricature
As trees in full foliage the shade and power they had cast a long shadow
Today were are the beneficiaries of these full and noble lives now this to others we bestow
Good by Gloria Winters you truly were a precious one.
Jan 8, 2012
Jan 8, 2012 at 11:16 PM UTC
A gray cat with a white tummy sat upright in his owner’s living room. Yet, it was his living room, too he thought. Though he only perceived the lower half of their bodies, Tom felt he had fooled the humans into relinquishing nearly all their luxuries to him. Their food, their sitting spots, their sleeping spots. Yet, the humans would not let Tom enjoy these luxuries in complete freedom. Sometimes, when Tom laid on the couch or in the bed, he was kicked onto the floor - but that wasn’t the worst of it. Whenever Tom put together a sandwich using every single item available in the kitchen, Tom’s owner’s plucked the violin strings clear out of him, with broom whacks and concrete body slams.
“No food until you catch that mouse, ya stupid cat!” they’d yell.
Some nights - as he watched his beneficiaries drive off to the opera nightclub - Tom pondered his predicament. So if I catch this mouse, I get free reign over the house. He thought. Unlimited fridge access and legendary furniture spots. Mmmmm. Better catch me a mouse. Tom chuckled.
Mice came and went throughout the house, but one always remained. Jerry. In fact, all of the mice coming through the house only came over to chill with Jerry!
Tom stooped low to the ground in a pounce and placed his eyes millimeters from Jerry’s pint sized stance. Jerry felt as though he was pierced by a slew of razors. When Tom quickly relaxed his gazed and let out an enormous sigh.
“There is no magic ideal is there Jerry? ”Tom asked “We’re enchantingly random. Just automatic creatures with base desires. I hunger in the void, so I still want nothing more than food from the human fridge. In this universe, and a number more, I will pursue what seems the easiest means to human food, whether hunch or trick, or, right or wrong.”
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
*appetizing and delicious
wholesome and nutritious
enchanting and appealing
rich, tasty and unforgettable
is the simplest of shared fare
when taken with comrades
in the lull before the storm
when surreptitious glances
could be the last for some
and memories the testimony
to life's ambivalent transience
farewell comrades in love
to you belongs the glory
of mistaken ideas and inertia
and we who fizzled out long ago
salute you the lucky beneficiaries
of our pain and sorrow that are
your surfeit and your happiness*
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 3:41 PM UTC
mine own psalm musings
*living between two broad, sea-emptying rivers,
a Majesty’s sentries to mark the differentiation~
division tween divine and a moderate human’s
moderating steps, as his stride shortens as the y/tears
lengthen, and it is accepted as an inevitable musky must,
no matter how the sweet spring day refreshes, the newly
planted trumpeting shards of bright yellows daffodils
pinch his yellowing eyes, few notice the tiny tears of
discrepancies of an annualized emboldening, a grand
heavenly rebirth and a slow man’s body self~editing,
shedding of a life’s~ending~of~story psalm musings*
*the man looks for the terrible swift sword, but its
failure to grace us with an appearance, is but a
modest disappointment, for a deferred delay is but
a causation to eke out a few mordant, pungent, caustic
reminders of all that is yet to be, to be accomplished,
though the smirking lips of the necessity of yet, one
more unloved poem extant, tilting the Earth’s axis
benevolently toward the open palms of his beneficiaries who*,
you,
*are among them numbered, is but, a green shoot in a city’s
hopeful earth planted, by summer, will shed seeds to come
thy way, as an evocation, a good consternation, a joyous
provocation, an asking kingly~gentle, a royal polite inquiry,
would you care to add a a verse to this eternal verse?
before time shreds it too into a yellowed crumpling,
and to the earth it is returned, for the mine of this
psalms is only generic, genetic, and what is mine is well,*
and truly yours too.
nml
<>
March 31, 2024
NYC
9:16am
Sunday Mourning Service
Mar 31, 2024
Mar 31, 2024 at 9:25 AM UTC
hollow cardboard reach
and the destitution of the earth
and lives that don’t matter
the open wound of living under capitalism
a horizon of black spots
mangled neurons
worthless towers lined to the sky
production unto pollution
putrefaction
and the whole end
the whole ******* end
the whole
queers ***** in prison
blacks killed in custody
xenophobic masturbatory farmers decimating the land
modern death is class war
race war
gender war
a systemic genocide through slow violence
laws drafted stressing interpersonal violence over corporate negligence
social stratification
unequal access to housing, food and education
MAY 68
**** your gender binary, your race hierarchy, your CV, your Christmas, think positive ********
**** your borders, your rape-apologising, your colourblindness, your class privilege, your white fragility, your selective free speech, your hegemonic masculinity, your silicon valley entrepreneurialism, your cultural imperialism, your meat industry, your deforestation, your piece of **** accommodation, your debt economy, your war economy, your prison economy, your unpaid women’s domestic economy that upholds the entire heteropatriarchal world
**** YOUR CAPITALISM
precarity unto subjugation, alienation, destitution
an increasing youth suicide rate
an inflation rate rising faster than minimum wage
a lack of jobs while you tell us we’re worthless beneficiaries
a system that chases profit at the cost of existence
the entire concept of meritocracy
debt as a promise of payment yet to exist
enforced return to nothing
Oct 3, 2017
Oct 3, 2017 at 7:16 AM UTC
So these muthaphukka claim they know us
But they aint out there when the guns bust
Trust
Enemies is always plottin
From all corners
They only love u if yousa foreigner
No love for the men who died around me
Some of my closest friends
Were in the army i call em family
See i know they got my back
If im on a sneak attack
No race no trace
We'll wipe the smile off the nations face
How hypocritical
The same people that criticize war
Are same people that benefits from war
Tears from the soldiers who passed on
It wont last long
But memories last forever and ever
How can i endeavor
Chance at life when it was extract from me?
If you black like me ya probably already
Suffer from ptsd
Yea im shell shocked and what not?
But it aint about me
Its about society and how they treat thee
Start race debate so the hate can create
A problem
White vs black black vs mexican and or asian or other Europeans
Look deep in youll see
Me and my comrades my demons
Aint free
Uncle sam abandoned his step children
N they wonder why we retaliate
Hustling to survive
When they print trillions of dollars
So the info cant hide
Nobody question authority
Cuz majority
Are too bamboozled by the system
The graphic images hunt me day n night
Off this man who was shoot on site
Eyes split between his head
As blood spred all over the soil
The turmoil is getting ready to boil
How can i regain my life
I see karma in the distance
Creepin slow waitin for me at Hells Door
I wont open up but she'll knock it down
Just off one sound
Silence is the best killer
Red dot on the whole nation
Soldiers unit so we can be cash making
**** the government
Rest in peace
To all homies that fought
Oversease believe me
The beneficiaries ar suffering ptsd
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 10:05 AM UTC
that you died. Your wide-brimmed smile
lit up the page of the obituaries. You were a lone
star with no beneficiaries. It couldn’t
be death that cast a shadow on you, a man so robust
and out of the blue. Where are you going? I hadn’t
a chance to say what I needed. You left
in a rush. I would have pleaded for you stay. You weren’t
ready. Your coffee was warm, and the lights were
still on. You were expecting someone. You
wouldn’t have let them down by going out when
they came into town just to see you. I written you
letters in my head. Where do I send them? You didn’t leave
a forwarding address. And wherever
you are can you have visitors? I was thinking I’d might like
to come. Some days that feeling is very strong. I don’t belong
here without you. Wherever you are I want to go there too.
Jun 29, 2019
Jun 29, 2019 at 5:40 AM UTC
FBI agents will have Hillary
on a piece of toast
the revelations in her emails
their roasting oast
indictments for a log of illegalities
the law of the land catching her
with an appropriate measure
of judicious penalties
America's lady President
downed before her first term ends
amongst the patriotic citizenry
she'll have few friends
impeachment warranted
by the proof so positive
which will shed a light
on her in the negative
The Clinton Foundation
and its unexplained money trail
who were the beneficiaries
of the pay dirt's pail
she'll be found out
once and for all
the illicit nature of her dealings
being a note worthy fall
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 7:25 PM UTC
By Jennifersoter Ezewi
We eld daily not knowing
Who will take care of us
Until the time comes.
If we care for one,
Another will care for us
Even when the beneficiaries
fails to reciprocate
Because we are also benefiters.
The things we do counts.
The moves we make presents
there costs.
Our decisions records our fate
in the midst of all.
Echoing the promises of our
deeds,
Before the counsels of time
Whose duty ensures that we
savour the fate we deserve.
Wherewhital our conscience
Who sends us on certain errands?
Will they be able to exonerate us?
Before the unusual timing
Who stirs at our actions.
The children we bore
may disappoint.
Our expected saviours fails
But the help we render
Stands the test of time
When nothing else counts.
They come as visitors in
different forms.
They come surprisingly
Putting smiles on our faces.
They come as rewards for
Jobs well done.
They are the now!
But we are the things we do.
We are the things we see.
We are the time and season
Yet we ask: "how?"
Jan 18, 2019
Jan 18, 2019 at 6:23 AM UTC
It’s begun
Relationship to insured:
Son. Son. Son.
Date of Birth:
Date of death:
Certification:
SSN:
Life insurance
Annuities
Beneficiaries
Sign and date:
His life’s work done
Jan 13, 2019
Jan 13, 2019 at 3:21 PM UTC
Important notice
from the insurance
company
for new
beneficiaries.
After you are enrolled,
you have a limited time
to secure additional
coverage
you may need
without answering
health questions
or taking
a physical exam.
Look inside
to find out more
about your options
and limitations
during this
open enrollment
period.
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 3:46 PM UTC
we
seeth
all
that
be
bond
to
the
steps heaven
the
beneficiaries of love
Nov 4, 2015
Nov 4, 2015 at 11:20 AM UTC