"chattels" poems
Saintly cassock,
Glittering altar
Ornamental pulpit.
Driving the congregants
in a paroxysm of fib,
Gullibility enshrines adherents
hearts.
Do you know the Messiah more
than the apostles ?
Thou traders in the temple.
Parrotic tongues set out
commands
Loquacious sweet-coated mouths
misdirects faithfuls.
But the uncreated Creator who
creates creatures watches
Dreadful silence astonishingly
permeates the entireness
of the universe.
Do you preach love?
Do you follow peace with all?
Ye robbers in the temple.
Command darkness to produce
light.
But you turned moonlight into
tale.
Can you display Davidic dance
steps on the road?
Profanity of sanctuary with
false homiletics.
Merchants of dross in tabernacle
Speak.
Let us hear you.
Preach
To the congregants.
Righteousness afar from the
apron of faith.
Charity locked up in the
tunic of hope.
Sanctity of holiness sprinkled
into the tributary of sin.
Commanding the stars to turn
to sun,
Captains of night in light.
Ye robbers in the sanctuary.
Pastoral advertisers of chattels
in the tabernacle,
Merchandising gold dross in
sermonic hymns.
Sugar-coated doctrine wept in
the tomb of Lazarus.
Prompting Him to weep again?
Ye merchants in synagogue.
Disentangle faithfuls from the
webs of worriment.
Dislodge congregants out of the
shackles of sin.
Deliver ignoramus from the
isle of incendiary.
Let the sifter of strength
separate out afflictions from
feebleminded faithfuls.
Ye robbers in the temple
You love prayers more than God
But who answers prayers?
Dec 16, 2018
Dec 16, 2018 at 3:45 AM UTC
Deck of Cards.
The deck of cards tumbled,
The wind cruelly snatched them from the gamblers hand,
Twisted his hand,
In an evil twist of fate,
Stolen from the gambling man,
Ripped the Waster off,
All he ever had,
All worldly possessions gone,
His wife has given up,
For he loves the queen of hearts instead,
She teased him,
Stole all his goods and chattels,
In total disrespect,
He has nothing left,
Stole all his money all extracted with satin strings,
Satisfied casino owners greed,
It’s a racket,
Greed is fed,
While he feeds his money out,
He’s always lusting more,
Casino owner’s provocation bleeding those he caught in his deceitful web of promises,
Down at the ***** tonk bar,
Money does not go very far,
Tragic victim goes off to the bank to score another score,
For another jinxed fix,
Lady luck never loves him back,
Can’t look him in the eye,
A soul of sorrow,
Caught in a land of underground lies,
Insulting his name,
Crushing his honour,
As he kisses his money goodbye,
Yet again!
Copyright Olivia Kent 2013
Aug 29, 2013
Aug 29, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
Stop right now and NUT IT OUT
Which way you wish to go,
Do you want the wealth and stressful strain
Or blithely flick and throw?
Do you preen yourself with smiling pride
Owning shining chattels new,
Whilst shallow OTHERS OGLE
With those envious eyes on you?
Or do you seek the clean four winds
Untrammelled by concern,
With sleeping bag, a crescent moon
Whilst crackling bonfires burn?
Have you thought to chuck it all
The car, the house, the boat
And cause your superficial friends
To snigger, leer and gloat?
To simply live in HUMBLE CIRCUMSTANCE
To wake without a plan,
To greet the day with unconcern
And breathe a new, fresh man.
Is the courage there to TAKE THE CHANGE,
Can you make the first big move,
Or does convention stay your hand
To stray from comfort’s groove?
Have you thought about what others think,
Reactions from the crowd,
The clamorous cacophony
Of objection rendered loud?
“Absolutely NOT, my dear”
Pygmalion my ****
To throw it all away, Silly,
Simply would... betray your Class!
“It’s all so rudimentary
This thing of living rough”
“Reminds me of the great apes,
And other basic stuff!”
There’s loads of reasons why YOU CAN’T,
The mortgage at the bank,
Insurance is essential
And while we’re being frank...
There’s the tennis club subscription
And the afternoons I’d miss
Sipping lattes with the ladies
..though, the gossip’s SO remiss.
Perhaps we’ll put it off for now
Another day perchance,
When devilment and joi le vivre
EFFUSE another prance.
When the dream of having freedom
With the cold wind in my hair,
Will drive me to release
The inner WILDNESS hidden there.
Marshalg
Victoria ParkTunnel
4 March 2011
Mar 4, 2011
Mar 4, 2011 at 6:14 PM UTC
(March 2003)
Alas, ambitious girl, foregone of France,
Thy days are numbered now, through loss of power.
Though once thou led the king a merry dance,
His gaze will wander from a faded flower.
Women are cattle in the eyes of men,
Mere chattels; drear, embattled, scapegoat souls;
How utterly unthinkable, Boleyn,
For queens to rise above domestic goals.
Thy barren womb is witness to thy shame,
Its emptiness brings punishment anew;
The king grows ever scornful of thy name,
Look to thy prayers and dreams, however few.
Bereft of love, one girl branded as jade.
The flagstone cracks beneath the slashing blade.
Sep 2, 2009
Sep 2, 2009 at 11:23 AM UTC
Late in the year and in the night,
A ghostly giant came into sight,
It slowly trailed and bulged the ancient causeway,
Intent on hiding out of harms way.
A magnificent beast from the age of sale,
Came into port to shelter from the winter storms and gales,
It groans and creaks from 50 sheets and rattles,
Like a wounded whale with its brass decor and iron chattels.
The body built of wood and steel,
With copper wrapped around it's keel,
To guard its cargo of rarest spice, silks and precious metals,
It puffed and steamed along like a giant boiled kettle.
It has travelled far with many scars,
Battled continents and violent seas with ease,
From the cape around the horn,
And onto the west indies.
It seeks and finally finds its place to rest and moor,
But alas the storm that winter did not pause,
It reached and breached the gates and harbour walls,
The fox was in through failing doors.
It attacked the beauty in its finest fettles,
Her belly broke from bow to stern,
It sharply shifts and lists while the candles burn,
Then sinks down to the bottom where it groans and settles.
It's fate and history long forgotten,
But for local shanty hymns,
The bulk is left but timbers rotten,
With cut back beams and withered limbs.
From endless tides it now resides,
Out of site and local memory,
Through rusted tears it counts the years,
Underneath a sea of nettles.
Sep 25, 2018
Sep 25, 2018 at 1:19 PM UTC
Black love that!
Why? Makes me cry, death passes by can make you sigh.
Don’t try, black is pride, makes you smile, love my blackness
God blessed, loving my hotness (meaning sexiness), my black skin, my black hair.
Why love Black? Don’t be afraid, your not a slave, no chattels, no chains, no master, no way!
Love your life, cherish your black skin, no bleaching low self esteem,
High cheekbones, **** curves know what I mean.
Be Black, Love That!
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
Project the images behind my eyes and
feed me the words with the gravy of lies
mise over your chattels
but fight your own battles.
I ain't going to fight no more,
I ain't going to join in
I've told you before
you're just a mongrel
a monger of war.
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 5:49 AM UTC
these are the thoughts
of Clive,
the neighborhood curmudgeon...
how do i know this,
i am the imp that put them here....
in the garden, you folks
call a brain......
*take this, sodding life
and it's meaningless struggle.
i set my face to this wall
and brick myself self in
to this useless stall.
the old man, Clive,
grumbled with a,
set and sour grin.
you...you're all pathetic,
thinking you can win.
death's the only victor...
over us, one
and sodding all.
and you can take,
your sodding...
flowers and cards
and sodding, casseroles too!!
there was,
one ray of sunshine
in my life
and now she is gone.
and she is not,
sodding around in another room,
or waiting for me up there.
she is not, in greener pastures
cause she was never..
an effin cow.
she is,
six footdown,
underground,
in a cheap wooden box,
making fodder,
for worms and beetles.
slowly, they are,
breakin her down.
and it will not be,
sodding fine
and time will not heal...
a heart smashed to smithereens.
a life torn asunder
**** me it's time,
for you pathetic
do-gooders...
to get ****** real....
no i am not,
a happy man,
and yes i am,
greiving the greatest loss.
and a ****** sausage
and bean casserole,
is not going to be,
making me believe,
that the world,
is a fair and just place...
don't you, worry about me.
i reckon i'll soon be,
leaving, my home
and my goods and chattels
and be recieving last rites,
farewells and a deep,dirt bed.
and that will be,
fine and dandy,
as long as it is,
close and handy,
to my beloved, Mandy.
what?
you're worried...
about my,
state of mind...
will ya, just sod off,
haven't i
made myself clear,
i am way, too busy dying,
to pay you any attention...*
this garden just going gangbuster
hey¡¡yah huzzah!!!
Jul 4, 2014
Jul 4, 2014 at 7:33 AM UTC
Make up in fake facade,
Encased with insignificance,
All she wants is money,
For fun maybe,
Or to feed her rabid habit,
In short skirt and makeup,
She'll dance for the pennies you throw and maybe more,
A heart of gold,
Dressed purely as sad *****
Will show her goods and chattels for a moment out of time,
May drift in to a world of tragedy,
Labelled as a crime,
She may not find a reason and I guess she cannot rhyme.
She'll do nothing for you unless you pay for time!
(And no this is not me, it's just a poem!)
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
“A malignant adversary invader of my soul,
Conge deceitful lust the augury of artifice,
Mongrel horrid rancor glutton of enthralled rage,
She was fervent with only one ambition afore,
A grand mistake on my part a gazebo of treachery,
Chattels contrary to my reasoning of my desires,
An indisposed viper camouflaged covered in blossoms,
Progenitor of gasps an assassin tarrying in quietude,
A sea shower of sorrows from whence she was drawn,
As the salty drops adorn my sorrows of woe and despair,
Bellowing a fever of the mind from the vile deceit and rage,
As a fish linked adorned to an alluring virulent,
Fabric as the adumbration of the suns shines remorse,
A rapacious blaze leaving thou shuddering in angst,
I have traveled on a road lead to pitfalls and misery,
Imbroglio with no emotion renders windy clouds afore,
A citadel thwarts wane of melancholy and remorse,
That which reason doubtful allows my malignant adversary”
By Andrew Guzaldo 11/1/2018 ©
Nov 2, 2018
Nov 2, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
Initially when you caught my eye
not ever i deduced it would be the foundation
The trifling chattels you did,
seems to have hitched
enduringly with zest
Still can’t accredit it has concluded
and i am situated
heeding to your best loved hymn
hoping i could fabricate,
but within i know can’t orignate.
The deterioration is
worse than the estimation.
Carrying you in the consoled memories
dear companion here i’ll say goodbye.
Apr 10, 2016
Apr 10, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
Afore colliery doth the world be so suggestive of sublimity,
Upon me lay no residence that I may well take leave,
Barring, encompassed beneath the celestial witching hour,
Amassed unruffled, myself and thee.
A moment at time doth chattels be made the scene unmarred,
And thy look as if existed hence silver-tongued,
A haste of blustery weather hail from over me,
As I winched up from my pier and meandered absent.
Unknown to me could some unique facet be more veracious,
Nowhere be present at hand, a berth I be further elicit to,
O' be at disposal with me that we may saunter self-possessed, my unrivaled ecstasy,
Amassed unruffled, myself and thee.
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 9:10 AM UTC
The mirror was there when we moved in,
Full length, and stood in the hall,
Right where the lounge room opened up
Against the opposite wall.
Yvette was startled at first, she said,
‘That mirror gave me a fright,
To see a figure suddenly there
Stare back in the dead of night.’
‘You’ll soon get used to it there, Yvette,
There’s nowhere else it can go,
Once you have moved your chattels in
And filled up the house below.’
‘It’s strange though, isn’t it,’ said Yvette,
‘It reflects the wrong way round,
My right is left and my left is right
Like an opposite me it’s found.’
‘You’d better tell her you’re not impressed,
That she’s taken half your face,
And moved it to the opposite side
In a sign of twisted grace.’
For Yvette had one green eye, the right,
And a pale blue eye, the left,
So what stared back from that mirror there
Was a back to front Yvette.
She’d stand in front of that mirror there
And would pose, and raise her hand,
‘I raise my right, and it seems to me
I’m reversed in mirror land.’
I said, ‘It’s the same for everyone
But you seem to be obsessed,’
‘It isn’t me,’ said Yvette, ‘you’ll see
When she steps out through the glass.’
I woke at night, in the early light
And Yvette was not in bed,
I found her down by the mirror there
Where the morning light was shed.
I crept up slowly behind her there
And saw what Yvette could see,
That figure, facing away from her,
But never a sign of me.
‘I told the woman to turn around
And she did, I see my back!’
But so did I, it was such a shock
Like a brought-on heart attack,
Yvette went missing the following day
Though I searched both high and low,
But didn’t stare at the mirror there
Just in case she was… you know!
I called her name when the evening came
And she crawled right into bed,
‘You scared me out of my mind,’ I cried,
‘But I don’t know why,’ she said.
She gave me a long, fulfilling kiss
When I stared, as one bereft,
For this Yvette had a blue eye, right
And a green one on the left.
David Lewis Paget
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 8:13 AM UTC
I walked through the Harrison
Street Fair earlier in the afternoon
with the expectation and angst
you would be there as well.
Much like the year before, vendors
and artists were sprawled about the
street from Cuyler Avenue to Humphrey.
Rough-and-ready goods and chattels were
perched on display, but my eyes were fixed
on the crowd. I thought I would walk into
you and your new boyfriend, but you were
nowhere to be found. Perhaps we missed each
other; perhaps you never went to the fair.
But be that as it may or may not,
I thought we would walk into each other.
© Matthew Harlovic
May 21, 2016
May 21, 2016 at 9:07 PM UTC
Late in the year and in the night,
A ghostly giant came into sight,
It slowly trailed and bulged the ancient causeway,
Intent on hiding out of harms way.
A magnificent beast from the age of sale,
Came into port to shelter from the winter storms and gales,
It groans and creaks from 50 sheets and rattles,
Like a wounded whale with its brass decor and iron chattels.
The body built of wood and steel,
With copper wrapped around it's keel,
To guard its cargo of rarest spice, silks and precious metals,
It puffed and steamed along like a giant boiled kettle.
It has travelled far with many scars,
Battled continents and violent seas with ease,
From the cape around the horn,
And onto the west indies.
It seeks and finally finds its place to rest and moor,
But alas the storm that winter did not pause,
It reached and breached the gates and harbour walls,
The fox was in through failing doors.
It attacked the beauty in its finest fettles,
Her belly broke from bow to stern,
It sharply shifts and lists while the candles burn,
Then sinks down to the bottom where it groans and settles.
It's fate and history long forgotten,
But for local shanty hymns,
The bulk is left but timbers rotten,
With cut back beams and withered limbs.
From endless tides it now resides,
Out of site and local memory,
Through rusted tears it counts the years,
Underneath a sea of nettles.
Feb 9, 2019
Feb 9, 2019 at 9:37 AM UTC
A bond knit with all emotions
Happiness, jealously or aversion
Begins when two guys of similar mentality
Start an abrupt colloquy
It's an oddesseys of me too's and you too's
Having the rights reserved only by these two
To insult each other at every site
To tease each other and choke to fight
From having conversations just by exchanging a glance
To gazing at your future and going into a trance
From lending, borrowing or snatching each others goods and chattels
To standing with you forever in your life's battles
They introduce you to your new addictions
Be it cigrates,beer or your first loves affection
Sometimes they make you fall into a trap
But always lend their hand to pull you out of mishap
Sometimes we just sit and think
How our life would function without this unbiological twin
So just hold their hand and enjoy this rollercoaster.
Coz you will never find such a lovely monster.
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 10:10 PM UTC
In the space sliding of a nameless burn
My degraded past and revolting chattels sob
Sketching reality into lasting trace
For my spirit to sink in this bitter survival.
Can you recall the regal cloud of my smile?
The mistake made by your dense remains
To banish me from my bare actuality,
The agony to escape and hide in mystery.
I wish I could tell you the story left behind
The roots of my prevailing sustenance
But there is nothing you could do
For this stubborn old wood!
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 12:13 AM UTC
There were once dreams
Such sweet dreams.
A fantasy designed
To guide through
The endless fog.
‘Twas but a ruse
To escape the sorrow
That life can bring
The evanescent freedom
The facade of the mind
Gone were the chattels
The bleak tendrils of serendipity
Cascading on the shores
Of unforgiving night
A fortunate flower into life
Gifted with wealth
A filthy cheat
To the tangled woods
Of agony
A false tale is spun
A beautiful lie
Destroying the very fibers
Tearing the soul from
The weakness of the heart
May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC
Not only you and I,
Hound that became a companion,
One you get intimate with,
Either chattels you adore,
That is meant to be loved!
Everything wanna be loved.
Jan 25, 2022
Jan 25, 2022 at 6:29 AM UTC