"cadre" poems
Service
the sections
we skim
on
four limbs,
integral
to the insect
cause
and effectively
crippling
the cross culture,
dumb and
auspicious
in the year
of the
opposable
thumb.
Feline
friction
in
the way
you
hug the fuzz
and
tug at
the tension,
a conscious
show of
subterfuge
and
pretentious
pretenses
concludes
in the dismal
aftermath
of a
stamped
and sent
ten cent
envelope
filled with
nothing
but hope.
Sacrilegious
privileges
construct
reality,
obstructing
the
graffiti art
along the
cosmonaut
crosswalk.
The fire,
fought
with wine
in the dark
etched an
imprint
in ash
where
the
cadre had
left its' mark
in the colors
of a
corroded
battery.
Under
spray
paint stars,
hollow,
half
sunken
sights
echo
through
the
illegitimate
children
of a
wind
chime.
Sulfurous
silver
lining
igniting
the ego.
A blue
reaction
in a black
field,
refraction
with a
maximum
yield,
it all glows.
Feline
friction
in
the way
you
hug the fuzz
and
tug at
the tension,
smooth
and rigid,
we fit in
the grooves
and service
the sections
in a
crippled
cross
culture
that
crawls
on all fours,
integral
to an insect
cause.
Oct 11, 2010
Oct 11, 2010 at 5:27 PM UTC
I sit under the ancient apple tree,
My heart is low, my head in the clouds,
The day is slowly ending, I am sleepy
When visitors arrive, little buds come,
Raining down on me— a cadre
Of red-headed finches.
Jul 19, 2012
Jul 19, 2012 at 2:29 PM UTC
I sit under the ancient apple tree,
My heart is low, my head in the clouds,
The day is slowly ending, I am sleepy
When visitors arrive, little buds come,
Raining down on me— a cadre
Of red-headed finches.
Jun 13, 2013
Jun 13, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
I sit under the ancient apple tree,
My heart is low, my head in the clouds,
The day is slowly ending, I am sleepy
When visitors arrive, little buds come,
Raining down on me— a cadre
Of red-headed finches.
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 2:20 PM UTC
I sit under the ancient apple tree,
My heart is low, my head in the clouds,
The day is slowly ending, I am sleepy
When visitors arrive, little buds come,
Raining down on me— a cadre
Of red-headed finches.
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 12:49 PM UTC
«Joli val de Luchon»
Joli Luchon aux ardoises effilées,
dans ta vallée aux eaux si réputées,
tes allées d’Etigny bordées par les tilleuls
et les eaux de La Pique
ou les truites se rient
des pêcheurs du dimanche
Joli Luchon au val bien encaissé,
tes Thermes sulfureuses
aux eaux réparatrices,
ont fait de ton séjour
un lieu propre à guérir
dans un cadre rieur, aimant de nos plaisirs.
Joli Luchon aux allées d'Etigny,
Toujours les promeneurs vinrent sous tes tilleuls,
se reposer un peu et montrer leurs atours
parfois avec l'appui de Cupidon
ces fiers estivants par l'air revivifié
passaient leurs nuits dans des lits de velours
avec de jolies dames, amusées et séduites.
Joli Luchon au val bien encaissé,
entouré de pins verts
surplombé par les neiges de Superbagnères
quand les froidures viennent
enneiger tes sommets,
ton air vivifiant appelle un vin chaud.
Paul Arrighi
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 1:06 PM UTC
Straight shot of Holy water to exorcise my demons
Got'em out on a couple legs, begs by ****** screamins
With the All Holy Trinity I walk amongst infinity
Got a Cadre of Archangels showerin' me in His Divinity
Brought a fifth of Anointing Oil to mark His Holy Royals
Seeing through the mixed lens of His sixth sense
Burnin' incense to mark the Menorah branch that toils
Ate up the Holy Communion remember that Holy Union
At the Ninth hour His might & power did devour Light
Too dark, the tent of heaven tore, bore mark of blight
Judas seeing that hell'll vent, went hellbent on death's reunion
They dwell of Herod taking head of prophecy; Maker's cousin
He called Saul as Paul to make all apostle's, baker's dozen
Diss and spit cause of His name, John 7:7 in the pulpit
This ain't tryin' to be flame or 15 minute fame ****
At 16 I knew I'd live eternal by His Throne, sit
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 3:30 PM UTC
You can't hear them coming....
those avian creatures-
that stalk in darkness
"Owls.........they are!"
It's their "wings"
designed by natures science...
to soar in silence
waiting
watching
undetected
unexpected
From them, they got their name, those U S Air Force glider squadrons of World War II. After being released from a "tow plane", they silently descended toward a landing target behind enemy lines, with a cargo of supplies, gasoline, etc. Some, carrying a small cadre of troops, even a vehicle. The gliders couldn't be retrieved, the crews were on 'their own" to find their way back to any Allied force that could get them back to their units. Some didn't make it.
"God bless each and everyone of you!"
copyright: richard riddle 05-09-2016
May 9, 2016
May 9, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
a fruit
is a
daisy that
life is
crazy with
decadent mother
de re
and hazy
to tan
her skin
barely treason
to meet
the cadre
and reopen
the beach
again for
the season
May 13, 2020
May 13, 2020 at 6:36 AM UTC
Tortured Soul
They who speak fowl language walk with a cadre of devils. Can you send evil ahead destroy peace
Bind the very air loose your enemy to condemn your character in every sound reasonable persons
Hearing then expect the path to lead to tranquility and honest questions to flow back to the soul.
Your progress already fraught with challenges your need find and discover peaceable persons of
Integrity of depth and sure footing your baseness draws the brittle the shiftless to your life they will
Come in droves your voice and tongue unbridled it has not found the wisdom of being circumspect. Your
Ultimate goal go into the world study look in your unique way at it blessings and benefits train your eyes
To see perfection while it sets in and is robbed entirely in imperfection your gift and task give your vision
To those in this area who are sightless. You can be the beguiler the artisan the creator of magic casting
Spells through your own lens you are trying to become an honest guide to those without the gift their
Finding and knowing this subject is dependent on you but you must first conquer yourself and posses a
True quality of nobility where do you want to display your work in dives and back alleys or on walls that
Others have enriched by their keen sense of duty and singular vision. First the work must begin within
No one makes a mark without the hardship the dedication that results in rarefaction the norm the
Mundane can speak without end but no one pays anything for their empty ramblings. You go to the halls
Of higher they can’t teach you true genius you must open every source of your being demand perfection
Beyond the fair and easy paths look into the soul of the people produce a living edifice that will enable
Enlighten encourage free those bound give them soaring room your dream can carry them to heights
Unknown the first door you must pass through is indifference this blight destroys everything in its path
The spirit has no bounds you alone can tie God given possibility in knots with under rated living.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 2:03 PM UTC
On an uncommonly warm night
swathes of trees stand like armies
camped under the moonlight.
And reflected under the mercurial light
are paths of plum blossoms
opening the dark in drops of white.
Allowed to range freely, one's sight
sways with the trees and leaps,
absorbed into the depth of night.
Below beams a cadre of yellow lights:
from the rooms we have gone into
away from the wide open afterlife.
May 8, 2012
May 8, 2012 at 2:43 PM UTC
Cue Etta James: “At laaaaaaaaaaast . . .”
I’ve racked up over 50 followers,
50+ www.hellopoetry.com fans,
Fifty shades from cyberspace,
Dedicated disciples,
Devotees of my work,
An apostolic cadre of
LIKE button true believers.
Time, I think, to start a cult.
Enslave the men.
Fleece their bank accounts & IRAs.
Polygamize their women.
***** their mothers, wives & daughters.
Mix up a little Kool Aid.
Feb 7, 2015
Feb 7, 2015 at 3:37 PM UTC
None of this should be surprising in light of the following:
In February of 2010 the Internment and Resettlement Operations (FM 3-39.40) was leaked, a U.S. Army manual outlininghow to process detainees into FEMA camps.
In 2009 the National Guard posted advertisements for job as they were looking for Internment and Resettlement Specialists (31-E) to work in “civilian internee camps”.
he National Defense Authorization Act For Fiscal Year 2011, which was signed by Barack Obama on New Year’s Eve of 2011 and it allows for permanent detention without due process oflaw.
Civil Disturbance Operations (FM 3-19.15), describes the “operational threats of the civil disturbance environment,” the “general causes for civil unrest,” weapons deployment, the legal considerations of “control force operations,” the legal considerations of “apprehension, search, and detention,” and recording the “number of cadre and inmates injured or killed.” The manual contains rules of engagement regarding the use of “deadly force” in confronting “dissidents,” which were made disturbingly clear with the directive that a “warning shot will not be fired.” This is a shoot to **** document.
Could it be anymore clear? And this is only the tip of the iceberg.
Jun 14, 2015
Jun 14, 2015 at 3:24 PM UTC
left to right,
all looks the same to me.
as far as the eye can see,
a cadre of thieves
waiting for their chance.
when our vigilance slips
they'll kick the chair beneath our feet
and leave us hanging
from the bows of a willow tree.
if ever there was a time
to smash windows, burn limos,
and punch Nazis, the moment is here.
you fancy yourself progressive
yet here you sit on your hands, regressing,
playing the hand you've been dealt.
did you forget the deck is stacked?
the House always wins.
it's time to flip the table over.
toss their rule-book in the gutter.
a clenched fist is not just an image
you stick on a protest sign
to appear edgy. the movement
for gender equality is not an opportunity
for you to get laid. fighting the State
is not a weekend getaway.
carve the reality into your thick skull:
people are dying.
don't you see? they want us divided.
we're easier prey that way.
if they demonize the anarchists
and socialists then they can make
the liberals feel safe. "don't be violent,"
they say. "comply. obey. and we'll mete out
just enough concessions to keep
your guilty conscience assuaged."
if we fail to hold their feet to the fire
they'll throw us in the ovens.
the fascists will drag us out
behind the chemical sheds,
pull a burlap sack over our heads,
and won't stop the firing squad
'till we're long dead.
will you sit idle and watch
them drag us away? or will you
get aggressive, stand up to the State
and say, "not today."
don't be a passive participant
in your own arrest. the human mind
is omnipotent, an emancipatory instrument.
we have to begin
imagining a world without gods and masters,
envisioning what it means to be truly free.
resist the corpulence of false democracy
and make the prefigurative dream
our new reality.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
I lift the bound man and promptly drop his filthy flesh into my cleansing chamber
My blade traces from his eyes downward, slicing tear ducts from their seams
This arena of porcelain will be a virtuous site for his rebirth, his Becoming
The vermin prays with thick streams of ruby repentance running down his face
There is no forgiveness to be sought, no heart to be bought
I turn the **** towards the Devil’s direction
Jets of scalding blood coat the man like scarlet skin
He is barely able to protest and, at best, manages to writhe
I look upon this majestic transformation; my expression held blithe
As the gore mounts in height, the man’s screams begin to muffle
Relentless wriggling recedes rapidly into barely a shuffle
He is submerged in the depths of horror, drowned from my design
I drag the newly created spirit from its resting place and into the light
Its splendor is truly divine; unfit for any eye but mine
I hang its body alongside beings of fellow weeping demeanor
A cadre of crimson angels
Mar 15, 2016
Mar 15, 2016 at 3:32 PM UTC
Toi qui m'entends sans peur te parler de la mort,
Parce que ton espoir te promet qu'elle endort
Et que le court sommeil commencé dans son ombre
S'achève au clair pays des étoiles sans nombre,
Reçois mon dernier vœu pour le jour où j'irai
Tenter seul, avant toi, si ton espoir dit vrai.
Ne cultive au-dessus de mes paupières closes
Ni de grands dahlias, ni d'orgueilleuses roses,
Ni de rigides lis : ces fleurs montent trop haut.
Ce ne sont pas des fleurs si fières qu'il me faut,
Car je ne sentirais de ces raides voisines
Que le tâtonnement funèbre des racines.
Au lieu des dahlias, des roses et des lis,
Transplante près de moi le *** volubilis
Qui, familier, grimpant le long du vert treillage
Pour denteler l'azur où ton âme voyage,
Forme de ta beauté le cadre habituel
Et fait de ta fenêtre un jardin dans le ciel.
Voilà le compagnon que je veux à ma cendre :
Flexible, il saura bien jusque vers moi descendre.
Quand tu l'auras baisé, chérie, en me nommant,
Par quelque étroite fente il viendra doucement,
Messager de ton cœur, dans ma suprême couche,
Fleurir de ton espoir le néant de ma bouche.
799
(alternately titled: ah me go march'n home on derange)
I'll play the devil's advocate, yet
prepare a stance with pitchfork
against misinterpreted faux attempt
to describe, how whet
d'ya column re: immigration officials coe vet
patrol, police, and poison tranquil casa blanca
where killer attack dogs fiendishly pin set
ting sharp fangs at jugular vein of respectful,
dutiful, and blissful (or at least
prior to being sniffed out) innocent
long time laborer on American soil now get
ting Das Boot to their unfamiliar Motherland
(despite living social
as law abiding righteous folks) fret
full, cuz unfairly punished, and
cruelly deported, dispirited, doomed
pained visage non verbally articulates
at un war rented deportation you bet!
with just a flick of the wrist
and alien hated, pigheaded,
and xenophobic ventriloquist
bring back the Alien and Sedition Acts
with a Trumpeting Latina, Hispanic,
and for good measure Mulatto twist,
where original writ (signed into law
by President John Adams in 1798),
historical footnote, aye cannot resist
spooking (like a ghost), those *** pill
born south of the border pooped and ******
in potties of this proud country, sans free and brave
now frightfully get flushed out
glad to feign dis guise
as one among select Geronimo cadre
we henchman lubricate
wheels of injustice myst
tuff hie hiding dark shadows
(along the edge of night)
thence paddy wagon comes
to screeching halt nabbing
an "illegal alien" name on hit list
code word "bag dad" (biggest quarry)
and score a win
for Barren Trump Tah Mahal Incorporated
impossible mission special ops sentry slithers as trained
fearless to shackle ******* ranked big hest
catch also including ***** prize,
as you correctly guessed.
Mar 13, 2018
Mar 13, 2018 at 2:33 AM UTC
My premiere deduction was, he deceived with each
Word, that cold-hearted viper, with poisonous zeal
Looking sidelong to observe the mechanics of his deed
On my life, and lips that slander scarce fit to conceal
A forked tongue behind fangs no less infamous or real
Than the impish minions which follow Mephistopheles.
What else might he be primed to strike with his cadre?
What, barring to ambush with his lies, or set upon any
Traveler who may take notice to his presence that day
Upon the deserted road? I gathered what evil cackle
Would uproar, which staff shall pen my last will,
For entertainment in the arenose, unclean witch's cave.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 7:08 PM UTC
I sit under the ancient apple tree,
My heart is low, my head in the clouds,
The day is slowly ending, I am sleepy
When visitors arrive, little buds come,
Raining down on me— a cadre
Of red-headed finches.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 6:28 PM UTC
My usual hard-sole morning walk
My candid talk with the devils in me
My necessary ritual right on cue as always
And the images from my mental shelf
Tumble out, then push and shove for prominence
The usual stop near the tall reeds
The soothing dose of lilting bird song
The throaty baritone of the lazy bull frog
And the rapture is complete and infectious
In this mellifluent music of the open air
The unfailing breeze whistles a tune of freedom
As the supple green reeds dance to the elements
Freedom is all around and I am a firm believer
A willing cadre on this road that travellers tread
And for one sated moment I am Che in a beret
Free to roam and free to wish for and dream
Of a world where life is a daily festival
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 11:00 AM UTC
“If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention,”
She wrote, and stepped out into massive division
Where white faces twisted and drew from the tension
And shouted their hate and of a toxic vision
Where no one is welcome but the racists beside them
And she stood alongside the crowd who would fight them,
Against the cowardly cadre of cancerous citizens
Who screamed and hissed and threatened with riot
So the whole world would hear their naked hate bias
Soon one of them split and returned with a squeal
The man pressed on the pedal, his hands gripped the wheel
Charging his brothers and sisters, he didn’t even feel
An ounce of humanity, which his hatred did steal
When he crossed the threshold of murderous thoughts turned real
And his brothers’ bodies broke when they collided with steel
And his sisters slammed down, crushed and killed by a wheel
Now in a jail cell he sits where the judge denied freedom
His shoulders were slumped, the guards at attention
And his thoughts haven’t slipped or fallen to reason
And they’ll stay with him until death seizes him
Now Heather is gone, but she’s known by a nation
And her cause doesn’t end but begins with every new daybreak
When one mind is changed, a community can follow
Until then our country will cry and repeat it tomorrow
Aug 20, 2017
Aug 20, 2017 at 9:40 PM UTC
To the cadence of drums and bugles they
enter the field, helmets gleaming in the light,
all clad in colorful matching battle dress.
A cadre of warriors crossing the impending
battleground. Prancing like cavalry steeds,
chomping at the bit, ready and eager to join
the fray.
Visceral electric energy fills the air, as in
one collective voice they begin their warrior
battle chant.
Across the field their adversary's approach,
clad in helmets and armor, fit and ready.
Both sides determined to defeat the other.
Fridy Night under the lights. The contest
about to begin.
Oct 7, 2023
Oct 7, 2023 at 2:49 PM UTC
It was him, inviting me, to be again in his cadre of contacts
Excitement rippled through me, wanting to know all his aspects
I imagined us smoothing everything over
All forgotten, starting anew,
We would meet for coffee, that would do
And since that went well, we'd make other plans
Soon we'd travel together all over the land
And romance and perfection would be in the air
He'd love everything about me, kiss me with his hands in my hair
A happy wedding would follow, just as I like
Finally, everything would be all right
I got updates about his new connections, saw his face
No messages, just that old picture, served up in my e-mail like on a plate
Then my fear started to grow
What if he's up to something, how would I know?
"You know he's just a Facebook **
Said a friend, who could ask for more?
That means he has way too many "friends"
And two years ago I had to let go, let it end
So now he's doing the same on a different site
So I went in, and I deleted him, which took all my might
And I see that when it comes to men, I'm ******
Need more work on this, just stay steady, let it go
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
The cadre of gawking onlookers
Catch a glimpse of the latest casualty
“She was so promising with such stoicism”
Her loss is our gain
Their expectations had no bounds
The opportunities were hollow promises
Their duplicity complete and final
She got her pink slip at 5
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 1:44 PM UTC
New, as a thing under the sun, may not be, if
you know
beyond any shadow of doubt
[
WAIT}{ Wraith, tell no lie, I adjure thee
Human… made of fertile dirt, humus, clay, right
or did this thing i thing you may
bean be, may be an AI virus
human concept formed from,
star-stuff,
highest dust of the desert
by fortuitous concurrence of events,
after ever begins or began
like a big bang and all kinds of unbelive- oh, that e, escape believe me,
once
just once, you come this far,
you never ring that ****** alarm again and shame,
shame's
a thing of the past, and we don't fish that hole.
Push on, pursuit of happiness is a right, not a privilege,
I inherent have, as a given, an intu ifity? An information messenger
from all who survived before now, this now, the right now?
I am, I think
A meme that makes me know,
from dust I came,
to dust I go, or is it some idea everybody knows
this me, the thinking me, I dust, become dust, damthatkansasong,
in the wind we then inherit
as
a means of propagation. Idea viruses evolve from invented
necessities formed into memes,
like on Facebook yes, yes and in Animal Farm where the egalitary
evolved an elite corps of the finest minds
and they formed a cadre of guards, to guard the riches caused by
the blessing of god.
A necessity for coping with --
op [option: change the course of history, portunity, or
position…
step by step as an upright walking being humanoid, but not dirt.
Nobel,
aragon level refusal to mix with lesser, looser fields of
gaseous matter dust,
atoms,
the un breakable thing at the point, until the Alamogordo,
fat cottonwood song was danced
in silence, and we saw
we make peace, where there is no peace,
do we lie,
can you wrestle with a message formed in media no scribe
could realize,
nor resist imagining if touched with the sting of this
what if, what if
god did adopt useless dirt beings and enoblize them above
all aaaa acc use
me. What if you got it? The itch, the kurio bite, the feel of a snaky lick?
--
Jul 1, 2020
Jul 1, 2020 at 7:05 PM UTC