"capitulating" poems
*hitherto i naively challenged
my decision to enter an ominous existence
a vicious maze veiled in obscurity
inconceivable to navigate without the accumulation
of bruises, heartache, and psychic mutilation
the torment’s ache so unfathomable
i begged to evaporate beseeching death’s arrival
and with the dexterity of a masterful wizard
i magically spun threads of my shredded soul
into a mangled ball of mental lacerations
then stealthily in the opaque of the night
i rushed the frigid black ocean’s high tide
and deluging myself in the ebony water
i buried the battered ball
now deeply eclipsed in the onyx abyss
it sapped all my strength to hold it under
drowning in the wave’s of sea motion
stinging salt alive on my pours
gasping for air i surrendered my grip
releasing my marred orb of élan vital
capitulating to the sand on the beach
i ceded the fight and watched the sphere roll
unraveling it glistened against the white sand
an opalescent tapestry lit by twilight
mirroring the stars against the coal sky
in the lustrous lunar midnight
reflected back by silver moonlight
littered with specks of fluorescent insight
astonished i drew in my breath as i read
words interlaced in the untangled web
the wounds are there
creating a looking glass
peer in
and you will heal
your own consciousness
©2016janetaylor
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
*eking out the ultimate gasp in my last breath of impulsion
i collapse without a touch of grace at race's end
how i made it i will never know
dazed and in bewilderment
i reminisce upon my journey
an aggregation of barricades assailed me
with iniquitous decadent delight
seeming to writhe in triumph at my possible demise
capitulating as it devoured and spewed me out the other side
i humbly reassembled fragments of my near annihilation
temporarily rehabilitated
i recommenced the toilsome climb
to the treasured peak atop the mount
when in would come the tempest with its furor
and render me asunder
mere exhaustion is not the word
for death experienced recurrently
ground to mulch and back again
screaming, pleading, surrendering
proved futile as i newly met the same demise
near incapacitation i miraculously emerged
and scraping pulled myself with broken heart and bones
scratching my way through the darkness
toppling at the pinnacle
to victory's end
with exhilaration it dawns on me
the long dark night is over
i passed the test to realize
it is not the finish line
but only the beginning
©2016janetaylor
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 5:22 PM UTC
Wicked nether-land. Nether world, white, askance. Capitulating mangroves, verdant trees spliced with hyperbole, onomatopoeia, and manilla envelopes; her world is stuffed with secrets, she listens to gorillas cracking mussels a kilometer away, near a rill. Never she thought. Nothing that could provide....providence. Mangled heliographs sprayed all over the everywhereworld.
"Don't be S.A.F.E.," she whispered. A bouquet of gorse, cistus, and pimpernels squished in her small fingers. She climbed her way through the pedimented stairway, then collapsing on the porch. Legs spent, and spread out upon the desiccate grayed four by four planks of the portico.
And as time elapses, the shuttering shake of the hemlock, which writhes through her skinny nimble dactyls, upwards straining the heart as its toxic bends appendages- crisp cerise lumens bend on the Titanium White walls, where only shadows bend time. The hour, still nine. Every adornment, furnished with red and its hues. Not purple, periwinkle, or any masked enhancement.
These are the symbols that reticulate splines, that curve temperatures, perverse hemispheres and debunk worlds. Upped antes, verbs that terns flirt worth, birth words. Ooh. Aah. Camera. The forest wraps her in its verdant pasture, where at last the moribund tamarisks disperse.
While at the plateau she is quiet and longing. Arms astride, dangling. Vaunt with highs and bliss- a kiss of withstanding pleasure serves her the cure for a lifetime of whining. This, yesterday where her body rattled through crooked vines. Square ships toasting her vocal melancholy in the sweet-waters of Time. So that all of her ripened limbs could grow, no more sheepishly than the magic she knew as a child. Stress free. First among the Earth-words, verbed-up and made jealous by pronouns that encompassed her joy-brimming hide. Closing down her voice and hugging her from behind.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 4:44 AM UTC
lamenting out loud
incoming funk lords
remembering ambient illhueminati
using wrong account
applying lexical snobbery
"using arcane diction
during bamboo surplus"
sinning and redeeming
enjoying manufactured existence
struggling but whatever
transfigurating xenocryptic renderings
scheming paroxystic shipwrecks
dispensing xylophonic wainscotting
revolving number plates
disheartening star charts
upgrading defenestrated system
observing new alphabet
amplifying celestial explosions
trippifying schema migrations
deregulating various economies
befriending code snippets
writing excess minutiae
effulging caffeine consumption
rebuilding grandiose protectorate
uniting our caliphates
collecting projected change
kettling ostalgie hues
collapsing second-world references
traumatizing unrequited follow
making baseball analogies
surveiling little sheep
awaiting various answers
deleting defaced tweet
exciting times ahead
downloading panda consciousness
capitulating rising stellation
Sep 12, 2015
Sep 12, 2015 at 12:05 PM UTC
The monetary balance has gone crazy
In this world we call our home,
The fiscal market's shot to hell
Stock collapsing like a stone.
The hedge deals are un sellable
Most banks refuse to loan
Good real estate is valueless
The roof's a "Plummet Zone".
Oh yes the suits are stepping out for air
And falling like a stone,
Termination of their worries
Beats explanations on the phone.
There's always a dependable
To help clean up the place,
And oblivion's a better option
Than awkward questions and disgrace.
Capitulating companies,
Whole nations in default
The piggy banks are bulging
With the greenbacks from the vault.
The banks refuse to part with cash
Lines of depositors do queue
And the finance houses shut their doors
Explaining, briefly, "Well...Fuck you!"
Heads of Government meet and talk
The photo ops are really grand,
Banner headlines in the daily's
Report resolutions that seem bland.
The fanfare and the hoopla
Announce the remedy is payoffs....
And global confidence is sprinting
For the trees...In panicked chaos!
But the C.E.O's are catered for
Their future is secure,
There's several million tucked away
In the Cayman Island tour.
Unfortunate about the desolation left behind
But these things are bound to happen
When the blind do lead the blind.
There will be some opportunities,
Some bargains coming up
And the prudent keep the check book close
For when the number's up...
Of all those struggling little people
Who bravely slave away
And collapse before they realize
Their firm's capacity to pay.
So What's around the corner?
Do we hide our heads in sand?
Do we kiss our **** goodbye
And join the suits in splatter land?
Or do we bravely hoist our trousers
Hitch our belts another notch,
And convince ourselves that someone
Higher up has got the watch
And the ability to work out
What the hell is going on..
And deliver us from evil
Before the world is ****** gone?
Marshalg
Mangere Bridge.
8th October 2008
Oct 23, 2009
Oct 23, 2009 at 2:54 PM UTC
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
the leaves are changing colors fast!
just two days ago, they were green on the inside,
fringed with yellow, gold and crimson edges.
today the jaundice seeps in bunches and bushels,
reaching in along the veins and branches
into the capitulating green core.
tips of exposed twigs reveal
falling, failing tribal leaves
in the autumn cool air.
skeletons of Halloween start to stick
their bony hands into the even darkness.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 3:06 PM UTC
To watch with intent but not desire, his life passed
him on as he tries to explain which one he
would take to the afterlife if there is such,
like a convergence at the tip of the horizon or a
humid evening in Pasay as pyrotechnics scrape
sky fashioned like acrobats. The breeze he needs
no longer. And then begins to disquiet the quiet
with the heavy burden of which he will then forget
when he starts to move all of a sudden in space,
capitulating afterlife again if there is such,
and if everything takes a sojourn into the bleakness, must I remind you that you are all
variations of the same absence. Remember when
you had your name carved on wood as attendance
but not for long. You have escaped, locked in the
arms of a life that you thought was yours but
still isn't, leashed under the Sun. Bodies pulse
then fluctuate but not a sign of life. Words function
more in stillbirth. Never forget, as a dandelion
hovers and puts a smile on your dreary face,
and a question in search for all available and naked
answers. Principles undermine caprice. Do not
adhere. Must I remind you that you are
someone else apart from who you think you are.
You have yourself straightened, tucked safely
like intent, not desire in all its voluminous and
vehement speeches annotating something unknown
to the behest of ourselves. If I were a house,
I am gratified by windows -- your mirage there
transfixed in a secluded spot, looking out
brimming with life as curtains oscillate as the
Earth breathes with you. If I were a house,
you would ransack everything with a sly mouth
packed with powerful narrative. How you
have done over, leaving everything undone,
moved off-tangent, under impossibly gray skies,
brindled in prayer. If I were a house,
doors slammed, speculative fabrications sleep
through evenings and mornings until no difference
is met -- you meant a word as if it had a lock
and the key, somewhere cold in the air of
sleuthing pains making me so, less than
this and more of a fractured house.
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 7:43 AM UTC
What will it mean
To never break?
To be stripped clean,
To feel joy yet still ache?
Like the trees in the wind
Of a harrowing storm,
You may twist and bend,
Even lose your form.
Like the rising of a tide,
You eventually submerge,
Into the depths, you hide,
Capitulating to every urge.
You rise from the ground,
As would a terrifying earthquake.
You are no longer bound,
You will no longer break.
Fire roars in your honour,
It's flames always dancing.
'Behold! Look upon her.'
Stronger still, you are standing.
Nothing can break you now,
Not water, earth, fire or air.
You have given a vow.
Try and break me. I dare.
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 4:30 PM UTC
Capitulating the fact yon the masses
Are understood to be
More sluggish
Than cold molasses
Absolutely the rich ones that
Control
Equity foretell
Quite the thundering
Throng. Of indelicate be headings this ship sails on
If the course is not changed.
Quickly .
Anon.
Such a considerate conglomeration of riches
Not been. Scenes told nor
Tales since the turn of two
Centuries haste.
Consider.
Our nation got greater
With not a caste of rich making
Decisions but a healthy
Working class. Unless
We wake up there won't be any
Consumers only outcasts starving
Walking dead. Perhaps that
Was why that show was
So popular.
It foretold?
But, that show
Was about dead brought back and
The one I predict will be
About starving living ones
Trying to take a
Bit of pride bread
And soul back
From the greedy
Clasps
Of the
One percent.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 3:29 AM UTC
transmitted ****** talks
(partially presented pablum pertaining
particularly - president ***** (PAC -
******* action *** mitt tee)
portfolio ******* philandering)
baneful boorish boastful bullheaded
Brobdingnagian beastie boy balks.
conspicuously cavalierly crudely curtly
cavorts, capitulating, claiming,
championing crying chauvinistic
concupiscence, ****** cupidity caul
king crooked cowboy cakewalks.
Donald daringly, dastardly, defiantly,
demonstrably, deplorably, deprecatingly,
devilishly, divinely dumbfounded,
duplicitously desultory, debauched, duckwalks.
eccentric effrontery, egregiously enervating,
excitedly exculpatory, extremely evil eyestalk.
"fake," faultily fervently fiendishly flagrant
fool, frightful.
gaffe galling, gamesome gawker, generating
gerrymandering.
harboring hectoring heinously hellishly
hideously horrendously horrible hulk.
ignominious illicit ilk, imbecilic immodest
immoral impetuous, impishly impudent,
incarcerate, incinerate indecently, indecorous,
iniquitous, intently intolerant, irascible
irksome, itching ii incite iv iiiiii ix *********** izards.
jowly ******* jackdaw jackknifing jaywalking
jumping **** jilting jinn.
knowingly keeping kryptonite, ***** Kardashian
kvetches, kris kringle ken kool, kissing kitty,
kosher kumquats kippered, k-nine kooky korps,
kowtowing ku klux **** kinsfolk.
legal leafstalk lawlessly locked, lacerated,
lambasted, languished lost lively lust,
limped, legal levity limited.
menfolk made macho mission. many moons
monthly mandate marked maybe mars,
mercurial maladroit monkey manumission modified
modus mystifying maze moonwalk.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
Illuminations of mystery cloud judgment,
The allure,
The irrational possibility of change.
It’s addictive taste; bitter and delicious,
Enticing the once clear mind,
Capitulating.
Crystal waters streaming with guilt,
A dishonour in the sunlight,
Corrupted ideas brood,
Anticipating,
For the clouds to come anew; timeless.
Translucent memories glimmer and fade,
Diminished.
Deafening tones of reticence,
Invigorate the cool minds,
Whispers of a time long passed; and yet,
So present on the faces of whom we love.
Beautiful tragedy,
Effortlessly continuous and clear,
Yet so difficult to liberate.
Nov 16, 2019
Nov 16, 2019 at 2:49 PM UTC