"blabbers" poems
Who else in this inhumane edifice
can dance while the suspecting eyes stare
at his moistened armpit?
Pathetically unknowing music uplifts not just the soul but the intellect.
Who else got the fire in imparting?
or …
did theirs even start a single spark since then?
Who else brings out the best in these hopefuls?
It’s all the worse and worst that they see.
And you think San Pedro would be pleased
when you gloat you made all the priests, doctors, and engineers?
Woe to you who humiliate the chair by your indolent butts
while uttering kindergartenous blabbers you claim to be education!
Then you get all you want while tabula rasa remains tabula rasa.
And you
You seated on the higher chairs!
Why don’t you trample down awhile
and put your cataracting sight to use
before it even brings you to the death of light.
Has anyone of you even heard what your god told to Pontius Pilate?
Ha! The you-have-no-power-over-me’s have always been impervious to you bigots!
And you say to your kin let me handle it.
When it is delayed and their impatience grows
you see they’ll leave.
Did you ever fret about deadlines
of bills, of matriculas, of debts?
What do you feed to your clan? Feeds?
Get Ripley’s here!
Oh how divine to utter all the Fs!
©Glenn L. Sentes
February 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013
Feb 20, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
one undead sed to one too undead: "id **** for a romancer whos a necromancer."
Well, abracadabra with just an ounce of my magic
i produce half a cadavre and then the other half grab it and shake it until it blabbers:
"well im awake but id rather be underground with dead matter."
and though ive never been sadder i had to grab her and stab her a thousand times in such patterns
that all was left were mere tatters, talk about beaten and battered as all the pieces were scattered
(i made em smaller and flatter til they looked good so i blabbered):
"you look amazing"- "im flattered"
she sed but that didnt matter. im just a ****** whos madder than Hell oh well whats it matter
the feelings of a mad hatter madder than other mad hatters collaboratively dont matter
in fact the maddest just happens to have had all his dreams shattered.
evacuate bowels and bladder. souls eaten, demons get fatter, eternal state of dead palar,
dying in Hell, almost had her. god ****
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
To rivit and gaze abrrantly
Your visually sick behind retina
Processing on whimsical stammor
Docket’s of false telltale pouring from hundreds of mouths
All while one gamming sheray from your eyes says enough
Those worn graying-blued bags underneath;
They show a hard working bluff
Devised; let’s embellish our stares of evil on outward crowds
Let us pick out other bagged eye crevices, and not moving blabbers’
Nothing but the time they’ve gave; those wise ******* dabblers’
We glance the demon out for thrill
We are the visually ill.
Nov 21, 2010
Nov 21, 2010 at 8:37 AM UTC
Rain, I adore
Pour in measure
Thrills of the
Umbrella strolls
Without one
Down comes
Pulsating, a drop.
The first showers
Always dear
Give fever
Escalating mercury
In the thermometer
Kindles body fire
When fever chills
At the pores
Friendship scorches
Unabated unable
To subside.
All the guests gone
A teardrop knocks
At the window pane
On the bed of blisters
The half-conscious
In delirium blabbers
'Rain rain'.
Splits open, the sky
Trembles the Earth
The silver ornament
At the waist slackens
In an ecstatic
Electric confluence.
The chest-close hugging
Mercy of the sky
The wind which
Carried you afar
The sunshine colours
And pretty curves
Of the rainbow
Not with you now
But give me
The earthly odour
Of your coming
Give me the greenery
Of the fresh spring
On the paths, you
Created new
Give me those
Fallen flowers
Of the muddy track.
Forget the sky, the pride
Penetrate my soil, the soul
My fever will be with you
Which carries my breath
The warmth of my body
From that will sprout
Panikkoorkka, the herb.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 11:56 AM UTC
The stakes of civilization burn mundane flares fighting wars with HAZ-MAT suits. The nonsense blabbers death on the rotting flesh of surreal zombies. Late distillations throw parties--singing songs to dummy suicides, martini holsters in bubonic grief. Stupid people do smart things in this 24601 world. Frost penalization claims ghosts as lost lovers. Stupid people make catacombs from burning villages in carbon sockets.
Feb 7, 2013
Feb 7, 2013 at 3:19 AM UTC
Never has melodies
And words been such a
Burden..
Not until now.
They used to comfort me
Accompany me in my pains
My sighs
They were.
They hurt my ears now
And my hands
My throat
And I flee from them if I could.
No words
No melodies
Can offer any relief
In my sorrow.
I am..
Sinking..
And grasping for air
Never has it been like this.
How can I have forgotten
Something that I used to do
Night and Day
And with all my strength?
My heart has no song
It is but an empty sheet
It blabbers
Useless sounds.
Dec 9, 2014
Dec 9, 2014 at 10:44 PM UTC
He
Who
Talks
The
Walks
And
Walks
The
Talks
Blabbers
Talks
Makes sense
Senses ****
Walks away
When
He
Is bored
Is tired
He
Walks
Too much
Too far
Likes it
He
Perhaps
Experiences
****
****
That
He
May be
Shielding
He cuts loose
The struggle
He lets go
He
Begins to travel
As he desires
To know
More or less
Battles
The usual mess
But
On the inside
Only on the inside
Distinguishes
The real
From the surreal
He sings
About life
About bikes
About the mountains
Aloud
So that
The world could hear
About her
But on the inside
Only on the inside
He dances
To dance
Just for the ****
He’s not good
But he dances
Jives
Not good
Street dances
Pretty good
Dancing legs
A delight
To his mind
Infectious
With his laugh
And
An asymmetric smile
Lives
In dreams
In parts
The world
For him
Has fallen
The world
For him
Fallen
Still
He rises
For him
He inspires
Himself
Admires
Life
He
Is
He
Dec 10, 2015
Dec 10, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
You see that innocent eyes,
That smile which
doesn't mean much,
That twist in the face,
That moans and cries,
You here those sounds
And try to understand,
The meaning of sounds
The silence,
The blabbers.
**
You try and gather
Your wish and wisdom
To bear the pain
Of his and yours,
You arrange your emotion
On sections and shelf,
The fun being a mom..
The pain to see him
bed-ridden..,
The joy of being a mom
The pain of having
A special son..!
**
You meet people
You try to dodge
Those
Haunting eyes
Questioning eyes
Inquisitive eyes
Expecting eyes
Advising eyes..
Which want to know
Each single thing
That you don't want
to answer,
Yet you start again,
The story from the birth
The things gone wrong
The joy you have being a mom
The life being tough,
And,
The life's satisfaction maximum..
And you dread to hear
the words that will follow
You try to be deaf
and run away
Yet,
Slowly you hear
The questioners whisper...
The listeners views
Forced upon your ears .
It's painful to know this,
It's painful for a mom,
It's painful for a child
to be like this....
You want to shout
Your lungs ripped out ..
A mom can never have
pain to serve her child..
**
A mom is a mom
always a Mom...**
Yes,
May be the child is in pain
and that's wrong..
May be God had his own plans..
May be God felt the child
is in better hands.
But,
There's s no point explaining..
As a mindset cannot be changed.
Opinions can be plenty .
But,**
A bond will be unique
A special son of a
dearest mom...
No comparison,
No comparison
No compassion
Is ever needed..!!
**
Sparkle In Wisdom
Nov 2018
Nov 6, 2018
Nov 6, 2018 at 2:43 PM UTC
I told myself:
" I need to make this man a poem. "
So here I am, reminiscing an ordinary day. . .
I was one of those,
Who do not care:
*University political parties, campaigns
And all the blabbers they make*.
Scripted promises turned
Public speaking competitions,
And yeah, i t i s h e l l !
But that day I heard a voice so deep,
E c h o i n g in space,
pounding through my brain. .
One of the clearest voices
I've ever heard, there he is
Standing for campaign.
And my wrong, he's full of vision
and selfless cause, giving my belief
a s p e c i al e x cl u si o n.
A year has passed, with ordinary days
Lurking by. .
He transferred in our block,
From there I thought:
*" I would want to know
this person more. ."*
There was no love, I'm sure.
But there is a jolt of mystery
On his face I'd die to solve.
I exerted n o e f f o r t,
but my curiosity is pulling strings,
I got to know him better.
One of the most well-rounded person
I've ever known,
Oozing with confidence
In everything he do.
His ph il o so p h i e s
deserves a trophy too!
He is someone that
I would want to be
If I were a man, that I am sure!
We competed in a class debate, I won.
And there I thought,
That my achievement is worth
a no b e l p r i c e
worth the sought.
There is no love, but there is
f or e v e r ad m i ra t i on.
To the voice which is not
just a perfect tone,
But has the best echo that deserves
a w o r l d c a l l .
There is consistency,
There is substance. .
The only thing I hope for is
May his beliefs not eat him
Coz too much meaning,
Brings sadness on his face.
A face which looks like
He discovered a problem
O u t o f w a y s,
Like cancer on its very last stage.
His wits are too powerful,
I see it killing his happiness.
So I wish him the same things I wish for myself:
To think less of what others deem
as n o n s e n s e .
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 11:35 AM UTC
Blah blah blah
Dollars and deadlines
I here them blabbing
About it at Starbucks
Some professors here
Supply chain management
Blah blah blah
CPA
Accounting
His first stand out
He sits in the front row
"Here is someone that wants to learn"
Blah blah blah
No plans here
To work
Or get any more degrees
Just walk around in gardens
Not motivated at all
Lol
The banks....
Blah blah
stay and go
We do a pretty good job of....
Blah blah
It's a good place to work, etc
This is their first or second real job...
Blah blah
Not a lot of new products
On the credit side
Blah blah
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC
Sunshine, Birdsong;
Early morning breeze.
Quiet.
The comedown off of loud sound
that was the night before.
Psychedelic fizzles that sizzle the mind-
This I've begun to adore.
George,
offering me a warm smile & friendly breakfast-
The beginning of sound.
Midday found,
the hippies begun to emerge.
A surge of smoke sent up into the sky.
Oh my,
So merry that I could
Party with the Pranksters.
The Danksters,
the dabbers,
the peace lovin' blissful blabbers.
A family of freaks
that speaks to me
And this love that I've been after.
Apr 18, 2020
Apr 18, 2020 at 9:19 AM UTC
Perplexed, perplexed!
Bewildered by ***
My souls dazed; my hearts annexed.
Digress, Digress.
Alluding to brooding.
My thoughts eluding, the devils colluding
Oh tonto, oh tonto!
Amou ha huido, Oscuridad se ha apoderado.
Yo soy el fuego, infierno es mi paraiso.
Nov 11, 2020
Nov 11, 2020 at 8:24 PM UTC
At times winter visits early,
Spitting fragments of yesterday’s snow,
To strike an already scarred face.
Yet, at other times the curve of its finger
Interlocks with the conscience’s
As it blabbers on like an infant.
Dec 30, 2014
Dec 30, 2014 at 6:41 PM UTC
My lyrical ability limits you mental flexbility
Swift as agility hinders there intellectual capacity
Lock em up in captivity opened like a cavity
Ya chest be split up like an anatomy
Blood plasma
So ya visions become a liability
Who bitter thee
Shatter competition like
Ghengus Khan dynasty hallowed it be
Thy name put many to shame
Critics go to flame burnt to a single grain
Height takes like a snort of *******
Waxing your brain gas em with these floating propane
Light butane flame blows up everything
With no remains we nasty baby
Quick witted and skilled break through weak wills
Fools shootin' at me kill.me.
But I'll still breath through my eye gills
Ascending hills
Like Lauryn nothing even matters
Im crazy shatter your bladder
Make ya walk 8miles Marshal Mathers
You'll be front lined interview
With the death version
of Don Rathers too many taddler
Who running with blabbers back stabbers
Wave one hand with other hand with holding the dagger
**** swagger id rather be the grims bagger
Or better yet a caddy shack with a room full of macks
And beautiful women cooties to ******
Fatal attraction causing halo love TKO
I'm at the top of my game
Chillin' with the Monks meditating my pineal gland with dead sea scrolls in my hand
None could touch me cuz my energy band
To strong none could withinstand
That force held in
I'm a combination of antimatter and sin
With touch a gin but then again
Im just another poetic gem
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 5:21 PM UTC
October 19 2017
22:49
She does not belong to anyone
Silence is what she will become
People come and go
People live and die
Mortality becomes reality
Aged mortal is what we will all become
Crave of freedom imprisons her
She glows in the chaos more than ever
A candle keeps burning in her mind
The songs do not make sense anymore
Off they go to nonsense
She writes to entice her appetite
The crave of peace in silence dies
She manages her silence
She works to keep calm and guard her existence
She writes of herself and no one else
She competes with herself and no one else
She blabbers writing until the candle dies
The wind says goodbye
The winter bliss says, "Hi."
The cold October passes by
Here comes the promise of a better November
December can be found at the end of the river
Just right after the eleventh plate number
This writing makes no sense
She thinks, that, maybe, in reality, she is really dense
She thinks nothing but her existence
She would rather be sole than double
She craves her mind, body and soul
Hoping for the 3-in-1 to be a certainty
She is on the verge of shouting
She envisions herself suffocating
The words do not come out right
Even Tori Amos cannot say things right
She checked her clock at 10:52
This happened just out of the blue
The coincidence now frightens her
She makes the words of Brandon Boyd void
She is talking nonsense
Just trying to make every line of the stanza rhyme
Alternate, or consecutive rhyming
It does not matter as long as the lines rhyme
"Nice to Know You" now plays
She craves to change the settings to replays
She forgets that she listens to somebody else's playlist
She thinks that the playlist embodies her being
She finally decides to stop her writing.
Goodnight.
Be plain in sight.
She will not be delighted.
She will be enlightened.
She accepts it before it happens.
Stay or go.
Live or die.
Hot or cold.
Remember everything.
Remember why.
Oct 19, 2017
Oct 19, 2017 at 11:04 AM UTC
The brightness
of the morning sky
pierces my eyes
birds gladly chirping
in merry exultation
a distant radio blabbers
hunkering for someone's
valuable attention...
The leaves appear to me
as lovely emeralds --
a beautiful, greenish hue
the trees sway monotonously
as if compelled
in a steady dance
absentee music:
silence.
I am aware.
Jul 13, 2020
Jul 13, 2020 at 11:03 PM UTC