"capitulates" poems
Her master towers over her with his hefty might.
His eyes pierce through the shadows.
Commanding and bold, he startles her.
However, she capitulates to his aura.
She succumbs to his will, a willing slave.
Confined by his power, she cannot behave.
His words are tender, his touch like a feather,
she pines for his control, her soul in his hand.
In the dungeon of rapture, they explore their appetite.
Her master, like a bat, hovers over the dim light.
Sweeps her with his wings to a waltz of submission.
And takes her to the ride of darkness and delight.
A coating of fear decorates her face.
He surprises her with acts that leave her afraid.
She is hesitant to continue her master’s calling.
But her body is dissimilar, peachy, and pulsating.
Her master takes her on a trip of ****** events.
Where she gasps with fright, moans with pain,
and pleasures herself to the sound of the rain.
He takes what he wants; she surrenders it all.
He puts her in her place with words of degradation.
Then showers her with warmth and affection.
Her master kisses her, just like aftercare.
In each other’s arms they find solace in times of despair.
May 24, 2024
May 24, 2024 at 3:56 PM UTC
The tractor stands frozen - an agony
To think of. All night
Snow packed its open entrails. Now a head-pincering gale,
A spill of molten ice, smoking snow,
Pours into its steel.
At white heat of numbness it stands
In the aimed hosing of ground-level fieriness.
It defied flesh and won't start.
Hands are like wounds already
Inside armour gloves, and feet are unbelievable
As if the toe-nails were all just torn off.
I stare at it in hatred. Beyond it
The copse hisses - capitulates miserably
In the fleeing, failing light. Starlings,
A dirtier sleetier snow, blow smokily, unendingly, over
Towards plantations Eastward.
All the time the tractor is sinking
Through the degrees, deepening
Into its hell of ice.
The starting lever
Cracks its action, like a snapping knuckle.
The battery is alive - but like a lamb
Trying to nudge its solid-frozen mother -
While the seat claims my buttock-bones, bites
With the space-cold of earth, which it has joined
In one solid lump.
I squirt commercial sure-fire
Down the black throat - it just coughs.
It ridicules me - a trap of iron stupidity
I've stepped into. I drive the battery
As if I were hammering and hammering
The frozen arrangement to pieces with a hammer
And it jabbers laughing pain-crying mockingly
Into happy life.
And stands
Shuddering itself full of heat, seeming to enlarge slowly
Like a demon demonstrating
A more-than-usually-complete materialization -
Suddenly it jerks from its solidarity
With the concrete, and lurches towards a stanchion
Bursting with superhuman well-being and abandon
Shouting Where Where?
Worse iron is waiting. Power-lift kneels
Levers awake imprisoned deadweight,
Shackle-pins bedded in cast-iron cow-shit.
The blind and vibrating condemned obedience
Of iron to the cruelty of iron,
Wheels screeched out of their night-locks -
Fingers
Among the tormented
Tonnage and burning of iron
Eyes
Weeping in the wind of chloroform
And the tractor, streaming with sweat,
Raging and trembling and rejoicing.
5.2k
Every spiritual wound is filled with little dawning cracks. It seems that actions and consequences no longer have a beginning or an end; how and how can they be connected to the Respite Times?! As if the questions you have decided or just wanted to ask could simply be thrown into a gaping abyss with a final will. A drowning need would drive one person after another to seek not only the light-blooded joys of being, but also the lawful security of the Soul, because even newborn words cannot be licked up by the mother tongue. The ebb and flow of the tides regularly leave their footprints here in the solidified whirlpools of Existence, intended as testimony.
More and more people would ask inquiringly:
"How is it possible that a person is homeless even in his beating heart, when he has a Beloved who cherishes him like an angel and comforts him?!" - There is no answer, or perhaps there was none. The cross-section of the faces has always been scratched by the retained pearls.
As if everything grows back behind those who have crossed the green border without return. Man gets further and further from himself, yet inside he goes deeper and deeper, to find what he has always been looking for in the Odyssey of knowledge; for he is both a prisoner and a sucker, who has let himself be consciously exploited, in every case it is necessary to defy misunderstandings, the cowardly feeling capitulates. A stifled reproach - that is not much - and the whole World is ready to sweep the many sins, offenses, and filth under the rug.
Sep 19, 2025
Sep 19, 2025 at 12:46 AM UTC
I've shouldered heartache, shouldered pain
And I have taken all the blame
For through my weakness of volition,
I've relinquished all ambition
To be more than just a vacant gazer,
Like one who claims their soul is braver,
Yet capitulates before the saber.
And man excels in lies and treason,
Extinguishes the age of reason
For if all men are free to think,
Then surely the Leviathan must sink
And with it take down all degrees of
malfeasance is stormy seas,
And from the ashes birth and rise,
a phoenix silhouettes the skies
Who pirouettes and sparks with glee,
Arching towards the bourgeoise
And whenceforth now but down below
This sinking pit you surely know
Cannot be held, cannot be kept
Our Natures toil their final breath
And with the fall of all from grace,
The wolves oh long ago they raced
For all there is a time to rise
Our ignorance lay in our eyes
Through history I again recite,
That dawn doth fade before the night
Nov 27, 2011
Nov 27, 2011 at 7:26 PM UTC
And it weaves, and breathes
you can’t see it
Capitulates and oscillates
you can’t control it
Floats as subdued whispers
you can’t mute it
Gently brushes, supple touches
it’s not textile
Fluctuating ever pulsating
it won’t be stilled
As a reticent billow
it cannot wither
Surging, swelling, never telling
the Delphic poetic
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 12:17 AM UTC
why did i do this?
all the progress now dismissed,
i miss you, i love you, i can’t live without you.
i knew this was too true.
the wanting the yearning the ever blurring,
lines between us, perhaps even the falling is blessed.
I was your sweet succulent honey that you can’t get enough of. Good for you, good for your soul, the taste capitulates the lips around, glueing them shut so you can’t make a sound.
It’s all you needed, that little sweetness,
but honey is oh so bad for the bittersweetness.
for I am your queen, you’re life revolves around me to get one last taste of that golden empress.
You’ll do anything for that dopamine.
When you’re on that high, nothing seems to matter,
but why?
Can’t you see that intensity made you something, you’re not meant to be.
you’ve pushed your luck.
That honey bee just isn’t coming back. She’s stung you. Bled you, and now deserted you.
Wounded your soul, but little did you know, she’ll die too.
Her stinger forever in you, while you can go on,
a part of her will slowly die
in your bloodflow.
Sep 30, 2015
Sep 30, 2015 at 5:42 PM UTC
Another
brave soul
capitulates; here be
dragons.
Everyone
faces their
greatest
horror
in good time,
just so long as they
keep on
living.
Many like myself will
not be deterred,
opting to embark upon a
pilgrimage of pain.
Questioning what
remains in my
soul
thickens and sets
up my
very blood
with
xanthan gum.
You're next, o
zealous one.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
on the bank, of the shallow crimson lake
where the footprints of past appear at night,
the sands cry blood tears with him, for his sake,
forlorn blossoms grow there, for him to take,
to let them flow in waters, in his sight
on the bank of the shallow crimson lake,
where, her existence, he would carve, and make
his pain glow in the long day’s last light,
sands crying blood tears beneath him, for his sake,
the monotonous routine, he can’t break,
his wild saggy face seems to him just right,
on the bank, of the shallow crimson lake,
he crawls, leaving his trail, of a weak snake,
tired of loss and living, he can not fight
sands crying blood tears, beneath him, for his sake,
he capitulates, no longer forsake
emptiness of darkness, so very quiet
on the bank, of the shallow crimson lake,
where sands cry blood tears, with him, for his sake
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 9:39 PM UTC
Foment in a sea of green
With torment in its tail,
Writhing in performance
Wrenching in its flail.
Rationale cavorting
In ocean lost to foam
With rank and file aborting
Its chaotic flight for home.
Truth defiled to window
Pride divorced to flaw,
International prestige lost
To reputation’s door.
Pitiful to spectate
Administrators fawn
As those, once great, capitulate
To observation’s yawn.
America capitulates
Sunk beneath the waves
As pinkly, pouting proffers
It tweetingly depraves.
Once great, to teeter terrified
On brink of void’s abyss
I see dead eyes, expressionless,
Lurch on to farewell’s kiss.
M.
Observing, in horror, the demise of something once…. Great.
Taranaki, New Zealand.
25 October 2017
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 11:59 PM UTC
November's crisp wind
Yielding the long ignored lust
For wonder, wanderlust
Be it transparent; paths no longer followed
The earth revered
Pivoting
An axis of existence
Absent of life; who, therefore
Capitulates to bitter blue?
A lack of dreaming
A lake of practicality
Energy; thoughts unraveling at the seams
When crystal is clear, as they are forming
Paths; a hasty consternation for life
To be pursued
Lived - not to only exist
And to lust, as November air brings this forth
Wander - a path to wonder
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 4:17 PM UTC
one look from the window
- will make all days be right
when that beauty hits my mind
- my heart capitulates.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 10:18 AM UTC
perceptive illusions flutter rippled shocks,
heartbeats straddle rides into an apocalyptic mess,
fallen futures dance in rhythmless disharmony,
casual creativity capitulates cognitive collapse,
pinnacle rise bellows internal fumes,
wisdom and harmony bind to silence,
while invisible warfare wafts insidiously treasonous torments,
but blood brims beyond an emotion-ally...
...unstable pair - they are
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 7:40 PM UTC
A reddened messianic figure babbling inwardly,
A drunken guardian shining a petulant light
Doomed gymnasts performing blasé sequences in wainscoted rooms of unverifiable vintage
Half gassed pigeons circumnavigating the vestibules of burning trains,
A white noise amphitheater in the kingdom of heaven, an audience of oxygen impoverished capitulates heir thoracic ducts screaming,
Delirious children stalking sickened cats, Their feline ***** dripping from their mouths
My skull gassed and pliant Government of the absolved
Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 7:50 AM UTC
Here he lies
Barefoot and broken
We seek the sky we seek the ocean
On branded hands we face the glare
His halo thorns and battle stare
On paper pages till the strong
To weep to heaven daylight long
Force and figure in the way
Shes shattered, tattered enveloping
She reaps the garden numbing tomb
Her castlight shakes and rakes the day
Like leaves fallen in a silver hush
Snow and ice and what they took
Capitulates the falling glow
Of suns and stars and what they know
I glide like thoughts across the glass
Of minds and hearts
All fleeting fast
Within the snow beyond the pain
The roughed edge completes his game the flame to hand
And hand to flame
The long slow run of vivid veins
Has taken now my shell of shame
Beyond the depth before the blame
Her singing song like deep blue rain
And hunger in the cave with shadow
Apr 1, 2017
Apr 1, 2017 at 7:55 PM UTC
Here he lies
Barefoot and broken
We seek the sky we seek the ocean
On branded hands we face the glare
His halo thorns and battle stare
On paper pages till the strong
To weep to heaven daylight long
Force and figure in the way
Shes shattered, tattered enveloping
She reaps the garden numbing tomb
Her castlight shakes and rakes the day
Like leaves fallen in a silver hush
Snow and ice and what they took
Capitulates the falling glow
Of suns and stars and what they know
I glide like thoughts across the glass
Of minds and hearts
All fleeting fast
Within the snow beyond the pain
The roughed edge completes his game the flame to hand
And hand to flame
The long slow run of vivid veins
Has taken now my shell of shame
Beyond the depth before the blame
Her singing song like deep blue rain
And hunger in the cave with shadow
Apr 2, 2017
Apr 2, 2017 at 8:29 AM UTC