"chastises" poems
the regret, that depreciating voice in your head
that chastises you, calls you stupid, a coward
and you look back and agree with it
ignoring that hindsight is always 20/20
and i know the one you're with now provides you with all that you ever needed
possibly more than i could ever have
but that doesnt make it feel any better
as incredibly selfish as it is to feel one should "belong" to another
and as much as such a bond could destroy a beautiful friendship such as ours
despite fantasizing "stealing" you away
as if you were an object
as much as the guilt of that very thought
weighs down my spirit everytime you cross my mind
the temptation to bear my soul to you gets greater each time
it hurts
deeply
and i cant help but wonder, what if
and now i hate myself for it
Jan 16, 2015
Jan 16, 2015 at 1:33 AM UTC
Rye whiskey is my long lost lover.
Though we break apart as I
Enjoy the fruits of wine and bitter,
In those dark hours of the morn I’ll return
To that gold that tastes sweeter.
We’ll meet again as old friends,
And I’ll keep drinking it until the end.
Rye whiskey is my long lost lover.
Rye whiskey is my long lost lover.
It heats the room in its glow,
It makes the band sound sweeter
And my baby sound softer
While the drums of my heart beat louder.
It takes all my troubles away
And puts them in a corner for another day.
Rye whiskey is my long lost lover.
Rye whiskey is my long lost lover.
It leaves me on the roadside
To make my own way in the night,
And chastises me in the morning
When I didn’t kiss her goodnight.
And in my dreams it flows through my head
And gallops every moment when I’ve left my bed.
Rye whiskey is my long lost lover.
Feb 12, 2015
Feb 12, 2015 at 1:05 PM UTC
will my endeavor be fruitless ?
did I neglect slumber,
live in solitary for days,
numb my sorrow with alcohol
trap myself within the same walls I get lonely in
being only distracted by the scribbling of this pen on a paper
just to leave thou with discontentment ?
a poets worst nightmare;
(an underappreciated piece)
I am writing a poem for one who has words in the palm of her hands
like God has the earth
I am writing to one whom words bow down to her feet
like prophets to God while on his throne he seats.
Is my piece profound enough to make thy beautiful brown eyes water
or make your skin prickle with goosebumps ?
will my words speak to you in ways no one ever has that my piece becomes your drug when you want to flee from all that chastises you ?
I can only hope the first stanza grasps your attention
and you get lost in poetic bliss
and the last leaves you breathless
to the point you crave my kiss
to restore air to your dying lungs.
But that's probably just wishful thinking
your least liked piece is probably more breathtaking than my most cherished
you leave your readers satiated by your words and rhythm that they now worship you.
they yearn to ease their angst by reading what you vent.
how intimidating it is to write a poem to a poet
great anxiety as they fixate their eyes on the paper
you hope, you just hope they don't roll their eyes in disdain at the last full stop.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 1:19 PM UTC
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They want me to subscribe
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me Their prognosis of capitalism
content only when
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Her prophetess grace
unravels unlaces
Their societal disgraces
chastises the beasts
of Babylon with a wrist flick
I hear freedom ring
as Her fingers sing
cajole the oppressed
voices before drowned, now
staccato into stiletto
her tryst with strings
Joy their union brings
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5/17/18
Dec 11, 2018
Dec 11, 2018 at 10:31 PM UTC
Time so fleetingly chastises the womb
Wherein all life's illusions swoon.
Embezzled like spring's petaled earthen love
The art form's swallowed once famine's begun.
Extruded through shapes devoid of angles
No more will the process be found to dangle
Above heads of ravenous vultures. Now
The swine submits before the sow.
Who now does this frame become,
when all the insides and colors run?
How did once this child breathe,
Before smooth skin had turned to leaves?
In all the time it took to capture
The memories here, and there after
Sunrise form and Sunset break,
Years elongate by Eternity’s wake.
Nov 20, 2012
Nov 20, 2012 at 7:29 PM UTC
CONSCIENCE
TIME OF THOUGHT: LOST
DATE OF THOUGHT: LOST
OGUNLABI OLAJIDE YUSUF-Nativepen
The incorrigible judge of the universe
The voice of man's spirit
The breaker of the stone heart
You should get one
He pounds the accusssed heart to confession
A mortal pessil
The rod that punishes
The accused mind
He chastises the mind of kings and priests
He makes the most secretive to voice out
The arch angel in our heart
Who dare resist him
He changes the mood of a friendly one
Whenever they misbehave
He never condone any indiscipline around him
Whenever he sights any bad deeds
The ever faithful companion
He is no respecter of anyone
You should get one
You sincerely need one
Dear friend
Do you have a conscience?
Dear friend get one
You really need to.
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 4:02 AM UTC
*I lay, of my own volition, in a space meant for her:
a confined and achromatic scene.
My hands, malodorous, muddy and splintered,
leisurely rest on my chest, free from labor machines.
Here I rest, hackneyed and discouraged
in a pitifully human attempt to simulate death
I curse my virtue; it chastises back as it
mourns the curious exploitation of my health.
It was meant to last only a minute,
as sorrow chains my putrid despair in place.
Yet I, to this day, cannot begin to explain
how the darkness manifested itself a face.
I attempted to strike a movement but remained still
as the daemon began to smile.
The plan was to endure without oxygen for seconds,
yet the creature stayed my conscience for a while.
In a surprising and trepid consternation,
I find myself in service to mendicancy.
The creature, a devil with venetian red oculi,
salivates at its newest and prized delicacy.
I cry at the fleeting mastery of my faculty,
yet the tears remain inattentive and departed.
Time blesses the creature with a dominant sentence
as reality registers a dialog that I had started.
“Where is my daughter? I demand to know.”
The creature’s smile grows ever wider.
He then takes the form of the stuffed turtle toy
that used to sleep right beside her.
The creature, in a droning and unmelodious voice,
utters a perplexing, yet commanding noise:*
“ATIV ARETLA NI MAN ES ED OLEF”
*Frightened yet discouraged, I aim to find the sense
in the puzzling command the creature produced.
“She’s been missing for days! I need to know where she is!”
The beast speaks again, letting its anger loose:*
“FELO DE SE NAM IN ALTERA VITA!!”
*Suddenly, albeit boundlessly, the stillness was lifted,
and my structure was free from this tenebrous stead.
I raise myself and clasp at the summit’s precipice
after having danced with a beast in this wooden bed.
The vacant coffin remained pristine,
fitted with natural calico cotton lining.
The devil you fear the most is the one you create
and mine emerged with impeccable timing.
The creature’s malevolent ballad persistently tattles
as The Lapse rebroadcasts the “truth” it wanted to utter.
It had told me, “Become a felon of oneself,
and thine own life shall be traded for another.”
I refuse to concur with the creature’s decisiveness
as my unyielding faith will ensure my daughter’s return.
Her weighty and boundless absence must cease
and lead to the terminus of my inexhaustible concern.*
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
Hat pulled low over my face, I pull the lever of the pump,
getting back in my car,
hands placed on the steering wheel as if I'm going to drive away while the gas is going,
I just sit.
Alone.
Trying to clear my mind before the day.
That's when I see them.
A pixie-like little girl in denim and cotton,
tennis shoes untied and scuffed,
long hair trailing unkempt,
summer hair,
barely brushed,
she skips beside a man who is undoubtedly her father,
a serious-looking man dressed for a day of adventure,
the same nose as the sprite hopping along beside him.
At once,
I spiral into an invisible shoe box of photos...
then it's me with my hair down and my shoes untied and a big smile on my face as I accompany my father in the most mundane tasks.
Everything is an adventure with daddy,
everything is a game,
a brand-new experience tied up in shiny ribbons,
even if it's just going to the gas station.
They reappear from the store,
and the little girl excitedly pulls a bottle of chocolate milk from the plastic bag.
The colorful snacks look silly in the father's large, rough hands,
but he opens each package carefully,
handing her napkins,
and in her unrelenting grin,
anyone can see that she owns him heart and soul.
I shift uncomfortably in my mental shoe box,
and I see myself again,
overalls and a small bag of donuts,
licking the glaze from my fingers,
my father reaching over with a towel to wipe my face clean of chocolate glaze.
He chastises me, but he's smiling,
and he pops a donut into his mouth, too,
two best friends on a summer adventure,
nothing can stop our fun.
The father starts their rickety old suburban, and the little girl bounces excitedly in her seat, eager for their next stop. The mode of transportation could be a rusted row boat in the middle of a swamp,
but to her,
it's all a part of a beautiful memory that she'll never let go of.
And one day,
when her daddy is gone,
she'll drive up to the gas station in her own car
and sit in the driver's seat to take a breath,
and she'll see herself, fifteen years younger, prancing happily along her father's steady gait,
and she'll fall backwards into an unexpected
invisible
shoebox.
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 12:28 PM UTC
Soft yellow moistness
leaves nostalgia in my mouth
Little seeds that get
stuck in your teeth
that your tongue
struggles to get out
When you use your
fingers your mother
chastises you with a soft smile
Sweet and tangy
You lick the crumbs off your plate
“Another!” you say,
but you already ate them all,
too late.
Feb 5, 2017
Feb 5, 2017 at 7:22 AM UTC
caught her cleaning the fingerprints off of the mirrored door,
using the ever handy bathrobe sleeve,
fabric of a thousand utilities, this one too,
me wonder, whose prints? mine, kids, hers,
could they not have remained as a history,
highway road marker, “On this site here…”
more fingers, skin-oiled, will return, the chain
unbroken, for mirrors collect memories, faces seen,
matched to prints of hands that traversed this doorway,
on the way to where, it don’t matter, signs of humans
that come and gone…erasure troubles me…not
because cleanliness is next to godliness, cause
god is mighty messy and a few prints ain’t gonna
make a big difference…but
she espies me lazy observing, annoyed, she chastises,
her reproving noises fail to include a thank you for
prints mine, most fresh, carried two mugs of coffee minutes earlier,
part of my daily chore, and a morning*
I love you, *an essay that is perfect in its abbreviation,
like a short poem sweet, so I hid my head neath the coverlet,
lest she see, me & a well hid grinning smile
sipping coffee even more
contentedly
poetry and love is and always found in the oddest places….
Oct 21, 2023
Oct 21, 2023 at 9:28 AM UTC
The poison that works within my soul
Chastises the angel that lives in my mind
Ahead is a battle, a fight I must win
Aside are my brothers whose arms they do bear
We warrior clan that fight only for kin
With swords as our cross to protect us from sin
Roads that we tread are often retraced
Once more into battle, once more we must brace
The poison controls and runs deep through my veins
My sword severs limbs, my angers now rage
My shield is pushed tight, the smell of his breath
Beneath I stab hard the, warmth of his flesh
And on to the next as we stand side by side
Driven by brothers, their blood curdling cries
The crush is unyielding pushing air from my lungs
My armour is heavy but my honour is strong
Yet on do I surge as the poisons runs deep
Chastising those angels that lived in my mind
Mar 22, 2010
Mar 22, 2010 at 9:30 AM UTC
I am not the ruler of my emotions,
Nor the master of my heart.
It goes where it likes
And i reluctantly follow.
My heart is reckless,
Uncontrollable and foolish.
My mind so sound and logical
Scolds and chastises
To no avail,
My heart won't listen,
Wont sit and stay.
My heart will run to you
Across a busy road
And will lay down at your feet
And i shall follow it
Shall follow it across the endless desert
The steepest mountains
The deadliest terrains
To the very end of days,
And when it lays foolishly
And loyally at the end of your bed,
So shall I.
And when you send it out in to the night,
I will follow
I will follow until the tears dry
Until the beat dies
Until my heart loves no more.
Jul 20, 2013
Jul 20, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
Copyright ©Tricia Hague-Barrett 1993
We must recognize that under duress,
great things are born.
Diamonds form in molten rock.
Gold is tested in the fire.
The sweetest flowers of man’s spirit
have often been watered by tears.
To struggle gives strength,
to endure breeds greater capacity for endurance.
We must not run away from the heart-breaks in life;
we must go through them,
however fiery they may be,
and bring with us out of the fire
a stronger character,
a deeper reliance on ourselves
and on the Creator Who,
like a good parent, chastises us
because He loves us,
and realize that the pain is worth
the prize that can be won.
This is indeed a power world,
and great forces are at play,
the sun, the wind, the rain,
night and day,
they are big things
powerful things,
making powerful changes in the land,
removing old scars,
bringing new ones.
Electricity, gravitation,
are strong forces forging the earth
with all its beauty it’s life its growth.
We human beings
are subjected to strong forces too,
love, hate, passion, fear, sorrow, pain,
each acting on us, spurring us on,
developing those qualities giving us colour,
individuality.
Why should we want to shun and abolish
factors that bring out the best in us?
That tempers our steel?
Teaching us to value happiness
as its true worth?
Can a man who has never been hungry
in all his life know what a piece of bread means,
savour all its sweetness as can a man who has starved?
So, when trouble comes our way,
think about what quality
I may need to develop for this given situation,
never knowing, it may b e a quality needed
without our even knowing.
ENDS
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 1:48 AM UTC
Death is a fornicator
A ransom note for the disposed
whose banner is waylaid
along the dusty road.
The Valiant are shorn of hope
as an immortal fog chastises
their very existence
mishappen and duly noted
Hope can no longer bloom.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 2:06 PM UTC
that pig
pink and swollen
slots in its back
chastises me for my contribution
or lack there of
decorated with an enamel
floral and embossed
shaken and silent
im poor
and so are you if you didnt know
well we all are
i had this terrific idea yesterday
i dont remember it all now
but
it had something to do with holding hands
yours are slightly moist
and mine dry
i forgive you
Mar 6, 2013
Mar 6, 2013 at 2:01 PM UTC
—Beneath the same sky,
We all exist.
We all love.
We all pray.
One sky, one destiny, one spirit, one heart.
I’m a vagrant;
Betwixt two realms:
The Spirit,
The flesh;
Truth is arcane
Undefined variables in
A paradoxical equation:
Aberrant; abstract; anomalous;
Like a stellar black hole
Devouring the light of the stars.
Of Dereliction; desolation;
The Cloister of Trials remains unsolved.
As my fulfilled yearning, proves
Naught but lust;
Disappointment; depravity.
Somewhere, someone
Bears the Key
To this fragmented,
Daydream-dazed,
Sky-gazer's heart.
—Beneath the same sky,
We all exist.
We all love.
We all pray.
One sky, one destiny, one spirit, one heart.
Chaos chastises, schism spurns,
My envenomed psyche is deluged by pain.
A torrent of trepidations, surges through my veins;
Yet, Couer reigns triumphant
Upon my Soul Scape.
Heavenward I gaze, importuning
The Father of Celestial Lights
Perhaps this felled Paladin of Light
Canst gain solace in stillness,
Perhaps he can transcend the soulborne fight.
Yet and still,
Sorrow reigneth supreme,
Burnishes a fervid sting
Upon this Silenc’d Songbird’s
Requiem for a Dream.
He awaits salvation,
A transcendent beckoning
To rise, rise,
Like the diamonded Moon,
Absolving Nox ad Caelum
The Song in his Soul
Is a Paean of Lovelight,
Vanquishing the bedarkening veil
That is the
Shadow of sorrow.
There is no Light apart from Dark;
There is no Aether apart from Nether;
The Astral begets the Umbral.
All things are one.
(O, Chiaroscuro)
When anguish arrives,
Succumb not to the deathly pangs,
Rather, doven the aethers
That the Cosmo-Plexus of Empyreal Love
Aegis thee.
We were conceived
Upon the Hierachy of Sacrality,
Her divine order is
A transcendent bounty
To those holy.
Apropos of Providence,
We burst into bloom
As Children of Freedom
Burgeoning aloft the soil of
The Gracious Gaian Mother.
The soul is a seed, sown in spirit, every struggle,
Every trial, every tribulation, bestows
The Eradia of Yggdrasil
Until we
Effloresce anew.
Fathom the thew in utterances,
Understand the sinew in silence,
Know that ye are precious;
Believe that
Ye art loved.
(Se’ lah)
Jun 8, 2020
Jun 8, 2020 at 12:34 PM UTC
Dog Days of U.S. Politics
Our dog days of pols and pundits are here
Like pathogens thriving without antidote
Or insects immune to every repellent
They adapt and survive; their goal is your vote.
Twenty-four/seven they're on the attack
Inventing solutions with simple sound bites
Then eager reporters with blow-dried ambition
Primp, and turn fiction to fact overnight.
"Democracy" poisoned by anonymous donors
Congress panders to a privileged few
Their money controls and dictates the fate
Of pols who have pledged to represent you.
The U.S. readily chastises others
Advising and preaching democracy
While our congress is bought and sold on a scale
That is laughable for its hypocrisy.
So political ads infested your home
You call EPA who deal with pollution:
"Please dispose of these, sir, I am sick of the lies."
"An infection of Broadcast Toxins," he sighs,
"For which we have no solution."
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
I’ve got a few things I want to say,
A few thoughts rattling around in my brain,
And though it may seem impolite,
I’m going to give you a piece of my mind.
I know I haven’t been around a long time,
Just a decade and a half.
However, I’ve still learned a thing or two,
About this world filled with gaffes.
This world’s a scary place,
Full of scary people,
And if you’re not careful,
They’ll eat you alive,
Chew you up, and spit you out,
With no regard for your life or your health.
We’re dancing in a fire,
Of our own making,
As people continue whining and complaining.
We need saving,
Oh, how we need saving.
It’s ironic,
How our greatest foe is ourselves,
So much petty bickering,
Chastises the thinking,
Until we’re at a point where we can’t do anything.
Who can you trust?
Your neighbor could be just,
Or a sociopath,
Hiding behind a mask.
Is everyone a friend?
Or is everyone a foe?
Or is there more nuance?
How are we to know?
Till it’s too late,
And we’re beaten down,
Lost everything,
To a monster.
Highschool’s a mess,
No finesse,
Filled with stress,
And depression.
On a quest,
To reassess,
And to suppress,
All unnecessary emotions.
Don’t want to sound too forlorn,
But is it too much to ask to live in a world,
Where everyday doesn’t feel like a chore,
Just to push through?
So much strife,
All through life.
Is it right,
Or wrong?
When does life,
Become less about surviving,
And more about living,
In this crazy time?
Seven hours,
Seven different subjects,
Piled onto a developing mind.
Some unnecessary,
Others are vital,
Few are a waste of time.
While everyone discovers their niche,
A fight for survival,
Some parts are primal,
Survival of the fittest they say,
It’s a shame that not everyone makes it out,
To fight another day.
To quote one of my favorite songs,
By a man named Alec Benjamin,
Titled “Gotta Be A Reason.”
“There’s gotta be a reason that I’m here on Earth,
Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt.
Oh, the changing of the seasons never changed my hurt.
So what’s it worth, what’s it worth?”
I believe that things happen for a reason,
Good or bad,
Then you have to question,
What the reason truly is?
This world’s a crazy place,
Full of crazy people,
And if you’re not careful,
They’ll eat you alive,
Chew you up, and spit you out,
With no regard for your life or your health.
We’re dancing in a fire,
Of our own making,
And no amount of raining,
Can drown out the whining and complaining.
We need saving,
Oh, how we need saving.
So there you go,
I opened up the vault,
And gave you a sample,
Of what’s inside my heart.
Take it as you’d like,
There’s not much more to say,
That’s just how I feel,
This specific day.
I have a feeling of dread,
As this year approaches its end.
2025.
By mid-March, I’ll be able to drive.
God, how time flies…
Nov 9, 2024
Nov 9, 2024 at 4:36 PM UTC
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
a roiling mass of fire and smoke
burning me to my very core
strangling me until i weep and choke
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
her embrace is a gentle deception
as she fills my mind with pernicious night
and darkness bridles my perception
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
serpentine whispers ensnare me as she sings
words of loathing to all that i am
and becomes the blade with which i cut my skin
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
her incremented tail wraps around my thighs
“food is a bane,” she chastises
as she waves my weight before my eyes
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
and i believe her pseudo truths
i am a burden to those who care
and should accept her fatal noose
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
and there are thoughts in my head
thoughts of starving, of cutting, of hatred
and of how i deserve to be dead
there’s a Dragon on my shoulder
but there’s a teacher of hope in my life
who says violent Dragons are grueling to tame
but will carry you the furthest when they fly
We all have dragons on our shoulders
We all have burdens We shall bear
until We become dauntless dragon riders
and when the strongest rise
We’ll be there
Jun 17, 2020
Jun 17, 2020 at 2:07 AM UTC