"codified" poems
Challenges and competition notified.
Every step codified.
Tears and sweat pacified.
Achievements and advancement glorified.
Regression and depression terrified.
Muscles and struggle verified.
Foes and conspirators mortified.
Plans of progress and purpose sanctified.
Grace and the Goodness of God testified.
Sweet pleasures of life.
Trials, Torment and Torture.
Eulogies and Elegies of visible characters.
Promising and decisive.
No conflicts, No dilemma.
Nov 14, 2013
Nov 14, 2013 at 1:48 AM UTC
‘I am…’ 'Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway,
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
In willfully prevenient interpolation,
Civilly disobedient in expediently seeming disarray,
Forecasts in vague extrapolation
Contrasts the millennial contagion
Already underway,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating linguistics in acrobatic raves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
The probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
An apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
An escaped prisoner from depressive disillusion,
Of an introspective extrovert who finds solace in confusion,
The personable recluse fighting an illusion
Breaking down the nuances of every institution.
Calculating consequence as time goes to infinity
Revolutionary commonsense of principal utility,
An opinionated adversary,
to the realist without evidence,
Theorizing in futility,
Stipulating every sense leading to the virility of the pretense that dominates community.
Divergently converging all the efforts we’ve personified,
Inadvertently submerging old traditions that unethically were codified,
Hastening the urgency for purging that which cannot be modified through the merging of the certainty that will no longer coincide,
Stationing the levies to finally stem the tide,
Of periodic enmities disguised to be necessities so blatantly deified.
Observing moral sentiments, perched upon eternity,
As consequential regiments are expounded universally,
To unstratify the residents indiscriminately
And identify quantum elements spiritualistically,
Changing collective behavior individually,
Socializing constructs in joint ventured logo therapy.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 8:07 AM UTC
Her Name is Woman
~for Woman~
The body replenishes, even the signs of decay
that come for reparation,
Positive confirmation
her organism survives, alive,
tree circles yet measuring time,
Till a devitalizing time comes, when,
this cellular process concedes degeneration
Then the wondering shifts; new facts sifted;
now the reckoning is not a calculation of
Mortality but of her living immortality;
dive to divine neath her black cloaking, reading
Wounded word revelations, her own Bible stories,
giving nomination to Woman-name
The long shadows that her souls excavations cast,
costs of her stories individual,
Highwaymen robbed her with glass knives
but each remaining black hole lights a story, lost, but
Burning icy inviting, pulling us into book boxes inside,
compost of sheets of composed white clarity
Care not that each riddling reference is obliged to be
oblique, inexplicit,
Woman her name, all encompassing,
her views codified in lines of faith,
Woman, is that not
a mining, and a manifest,
of hidden birthing,
comforting us in warm shades of
Human courage
12/26/18 5:51pm
Dec 26, 2018
Dec 26, 2018 at 5:57 PM UTC
The setting of traps
has always seemed
like a tacit endorsement
of the mice.
Acknowledgement.
Validation.
Admission of failings as a homeowner –
(cracked baseboards or an unsealed gap in the door.)
We are usually responsible
for our own infestations, after all.
The relationship with the mice is codified
“you are vermin,
I am not.
I will ****
You will die.”
Thus the mice are transfigured,
Christ-like.
Frozen in fear,
frozen in time,
laid bare
on a sticky, chemical
altar of sacrifice.
Saviors
giving their lives
so that we may preserve
those unwanted crumbs
in the vacant space
between the couch and loveseat
where the vacuum won’t reach.
Mar 9, 2018
Mar 9, 2018 at 8:24 AM UTC
Running running running running
Bury him in the dirt
Bury him in the flesh
Skateboard wheels run along the ground
Shhh shhh shhh
A digger splits the pavement
Water spills into a dead bird's beak
Ten pressed to the power line
A chaotic mesh wings snarled in the air
For a second an eye emerges
But reality shifts
A man fails committing suicide
They remove the tie from his throat and blood cells rush through his flesh
But his starved brain remains dead
And his daughter can't stand his stupid bloated face
Red leaves the color of blood
A dog breaks its leg crossing the road
Gutters overflow with spit
And fish swim until their ribs shrink
There's a heart in the centre of the earth
Oil spills into the gulf
Fire seals the exits
And twenty families drown
Sprinklers carry their bodies to the heavens
A newspaper kid sees them on his morning run and bikes around
Reality shifts
I'm caught in the whirl of my motions
Tumbling forward unable to grasp my presence
Reality shifts reality shifts reality shifts
But I'm not ready to shift with it
There's a dead bird in my pocket
I cross a road but the road is endless
I feel sick
Head on my knees
Awake in my bedroom
Construction workers lift the tarmac and reseal it
The old pieces pile where no one sees them
Decay codified in construction
Jesus, what am I saying?
Is any of this even real?
I've been gone a long time
Hands stuffed in pockets
Eyes set on dead grass, raindrops and McDonald's wrappers
People gather and break like tides
But I'm never one of them
I thought the mouth was for flesh
But it's for rot
It all makes sense now
Why Sunday mornings taste like glass
Because I can't stand myself
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 5:14 PM UTC
i so wish these poems weren't such afterthoughts,
words either labored, squeezed off a pained heart,
or a strong gush of stupid happy emotion as in farts?
neither pretty codified sonnets with essence in parts,
nor crisp, concise haiku's focused like targeted darts,
not the sophistried zen, oft hacked philosophic verses,
and the petty patterned words unmovingly affecting,
i despair for us to read a poem from brains turmoiled,
confused,unwritten words,unexpressed feelings,in divine madness!!
dance the unknown poem if a poem, to music uncomposed if music,
why cant we live them **** poems! so we dont have to **** write them!!
-every fellow being is a poem unwritten I feel, lets live them? Can we?-
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 1:46 PM UTC
for you
Never have I seen you,
or touched thy breeze-smoothed skin,
caressed the rounded angles of thy cheekbones,
with the worn~smooth heel of my thumb
it matters not
for long and forlorn,
have I come to love you
fat or pretty,
your physicality is inconsequential,
we have bound and blind~binded
our visible connection
by oaths and contemplations,
all codified in worthy action verbs
whispered in each other ears
we have spent our nodules of time
silently caressing,
word gentling,
and falling in love
this night has brought me
no sleep,
this day has brought me
no pecuniary relief
but words embellish me with hope,
dress and drape my face with
coming attractions,
for that alone,
*as if more were
even possible,*
I tell you this
straight out and unconfused,
I adore you
we are a lyric, a harmony,
an aesthetic unique,
for you have never seen my face,
yet this night,
thy comeliness has
stirred and up lifted,
thy tone and tiny gasps
my sundered parts
refilled and reattached with our own esprit de corps,
ethereal, ephemeral, yet so real,
I raise them,
to my lips,
and feel you as I do so,
gentling my cheeks
with your breathes breeze,
asking me live with joy....
tho never have I seen you
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 5:22 PM UTC
Superficial salutations, polite insincerity beckons me to smile
Yet inwardly frown, indifferently my apathy towards you is unknowing
Yet you don’t care, walking on, not even looking towards who you greeted
I walk on wasting empty words, wasted thoughts
My mind is elsewhere, my thoughts cut off by my inept actions
The hallways, long and narrow
When do I make eye contact, when do I smile
Do I wave, or do I simply nod my greeting
I’m confused, gone are the ethics of caring, showing our true selves
Yet pretending
The masks we design and delve in, the wasted effort
Do we deign for attention, desire it
I would rather not talk to you, nor make communication
I know you don’t either
Yet, in our perfect word, our codified condescendence
Smile the mask, smile the task, uncaringly we mumble
Our hellos and goodbyes in one syllable sentences not skipping a beat
Jan 25, 2012
Jan 25, 2012 at 4:21 AM UTC
Mach my words, that time travel aye
foresee (rather than being
at a stand still, nee frozen
analogous to cry
oh ja hen nicks, or more particularly
going backwards)
this chap doth espy
great breakthroughs,
asper similar advances this guy
i.e. myself witnesses quantum leaps I
learn (reading The University Of Penn Gazette)
the Burmese doctoral
engineering student Kai
Sir Von Wilhelm Harris
made profound advances within
advanced combined research
laboratory of rocket surgery
and brain science set my
mouth ajar
(with rivulets of drool spilling forth)
constructing a simple
to assemble gizmo (avail able
common household materials
rendered unto YouTube), and/or Cable
Comcast, Fios, Infosys, et cetera
which accidental discovery
automatically codified feign
top secret "FAKE" news to enable
boot (simply for formality sake)
code named Clark Gable
yet in reality (a faux veil of secrecy)
to con Vince sing lee
foster an inimitable
mystique, button truth
for general public to unzip noble
no red bull) knowable
handy escape to past or future
and essentially unlocked laudable
simple "household solution"
to become the latest craze
(synonymous with an ****** - manageable
minus addiction, conviction,
and excruciation viz zit operable
via needle marks of the masses
within a fortnight necessary
supplies sans quantifiable
while Das Donald Trump
could enact legislation satisfiable
knowing majority being
totally tubularly oblivious unalterable
measures permanently infringing on inalienable
rights such as life, liberty
and the pursuit of winnable pacification.
Mar 23, 2018
Mar 23, 2018 at 2:20 AM UTC
when the celestial judges
organized and codified the
planetary laws, the moon
appeared online but
only in the month
of June
it seemed they,
the judges,
were literary bent,
and had an an
affection for
simplistic rhythms and rhymes
yet the moon,
feeling slighted,
demanded an audience,
asking for redress,
demanding a larger share of
the celestial apartment complex
"Why do the sun and stars
appear nightly,
and I am kept on ice
for eleven months?"
the august bodies debated,
orbits examined for
interstellar larger consequences,
and then concluded and
herein responded:
"Tho the sun appears daily,
it is dismissed and tucked away,
like a baby for a good night's sleep,
to survive its infernal heat
the stars, give light too,
a special twinkling,
but it is a cold, dark one,
that only arrives after
being in transit for
millions of miles,
thus exhausted,
they are many but minuscule,
and many invisible to the
untelescoped eye
But your wish will be granted
with conditions thus:
*"nightly you will appear,
and your beauty will be
magnificent, celebrated, and
duly poetically recorded
but for this boon, moon,
you will supply the gravitational
push and pull for poor cousin
Earth
drag its waters to and fro,
an exhausting job,
unglamorous, even by
Earth's inhabitants cursed
who will see you as
a plotter, meddler in their
global and planetary voyages
but like the sun,
your portion, but half,
like the stars, your light,
will be white, cold and hard,
but lacking in sparkle that
makes the stars so delightful
even your appearance nightly
will be occasional incomplete,
sometimes you will be quartered,
even halved, even slivered,
and once a year
the sun will eclipse your
entire lunar glory!"*
the moral of the story,
if you think moon and June,
make a good poetic rhyme,
you gonna end up
working a lot harder,
pushing and pulling,
dragging your best good stuff
from where the sun don't shine
Apr 27, 2014
Apr 27, 2014 at 8:24 AM UTC
Circa Holy Roman Empire
between ninth
and thirteenth century
after common era
(approximately 800 AD and 1200 AD)
benchmark year 780 bracketed
Benedictine monks
of Corbie Abbey
devised cheeky guttural lingual rapartee
vis a vis European
calligraphic standard script inked lined
writ via extant Irish and English monastic
members nsync
strong influence of Irish literati
eased communication
popular Latin cognoscenti
common lingua franca
spawned Carolingian Renaissance
Codices, pagan and Christian text
plus educational material
written viz Carolingian minuscule
Emperor Charlemagne issued prescription
(hence named Carolingian)
boosted unified modus operandi
he advocated learning,
though somewhat illiterate
recognized value of education
predicated on singular
codified regional alphabet,
the then webbed wide world
linkedin, sans uniform symbolic shapes
uncontested salient advantage
offered up ease to master
clear distinct explicit letter formation
simple logic boosted
rapidly transmitted standardization,
especially with exceptional legible
readable characteristic
adequate spaces between words
Merovingian "chancery hand"
still reserved to draft traditional charters
Gothic and Anglo Saxon
favored traditional local script
as opposed to Latin
learning latter involved less tricked out
embellished flourishes
or interconnected strokes
drawn by a scribe
allowing, enabling, and providing
greater popularity to teach masses,
latent etymological nuances apparent
centuries following implementation
quasi initial Carolingian letters
steadfast, where Carolingian
influence moats strong
adopted local stylistic signature flavor
divergence woke since proliferation
stoking diffuse prospects
decreeing entrenched footing,
where auspices boded prescient
until groundswell didst surcease
sub limb mated into modern patois.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 7:39 PM UTC
#*And immediately there fell from his eyes as it had been scales:
and he received sight forthwith... [Acts 9:18*]
When judges decipher what lawyers speak,
offended defendants may leave confused.
Legalese labyrinths capture the weak;
Babylon's law makes for justice refused.
Enshrined at the ziggurat's doubtful peak
tyrannic gibberish mocks the accused.
He blinks at the courtroom, bewildered freak
as sentences are uttered unrecused.
Cuneiform marks... codified patter—
who dares define such esoteric terms;
in Heaven's eyes does it even matter ?
While the sacrificial defendant squirms,
Justice, unblinded, lifts higher the sword
unscaled eyes beholding—her gaze restored.
Apr 7, 2017
Apr 7, 2017 at 6:01 PM UTC
Born May 5, 1818, in Trier Germany
to Heinrich and Henrietta Marx,
sans the third of nine children
(and second oldest heir)
Karl Marx thinking begot incendiary sparks,
asper his two most controversial publications
titled The Communist Manifesto,
and Das Kapital
which political philosophy
incubating seeds of self destruction didst birth
doctrines of class struggle,
historical materialism, dearth
of equitable wealth, and inherent
contradictions of industrial capital
distributed unevenly
across avast swath of Earth
thus inviting his perspective
(conveniently exploited,
mined, and usurped) advocating
the working class (proletariat)
to expedite organized revolutionary action
to topple capitalism and bring about
socio-economic emancipation,
where wages of sin exchanged for labor bled
fingers to the bone life source, viz proletariat
till slaving laborer nearly became gratefully dead
despite being cased in 12 point
Times New Roman garb, who incessantly fed
insatiably maws of production,
(no way to get a supportive talking head)
particularly highlighted
within schema of Capitalism),
a predominant paradigm
stratifying society led
to internal tensions engendered
between bourgeoisie red
dilly controlling means
of production codified as said
as die a critical approach Marx coined
as historical materialism,
where figurative landmines forced one to tread
gingerly, thus above stated philosophy
would supposedly lead down the road
where self destruction wrought marriage
birthing Socialism offspring from shot gun wed
ding, thus coaxing eventual establishment
of classless communist society meant
to establish free association of producers who spent
exchanging merchandise amidst classless
campy population hood pitched a tent.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
You know your alphabet, yes you do, all twenty six letters you say by rote.
Few know there once was Twenty- seven, one more of which you should take note.
It is the humble Ampersand; the character you see today
Used mostly as a linkage between two corporate proper names.
It does mean “and” it always did; its shape from Latin is derived.
Its name is a type of Mondegreen, by pronouncement it is described.
Back in Elizabethan time when schoolboys said their alphabet
They did not end with “X.Y.Z” but with “and per se &”
The Roman “Et” was anglicized and its usage codified.
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
the leaders of tomorrow bravely take to the dais
justified their precious life,
liberty and pursuit of happiness -
stolen under their figurative nose)
asper an unparalleled heist
recouping quintessential basic human rights,
and will NOT yield an inch
(or any other minuscule amount),
if for no other reason
(and many more valid claims prevail)
such inalienable American birthrights
(codified decrees endowing freedoms -
tattered to shreds via frenzy of bullets)
guaranteeing harm inviolable unjustly out priced
sacrificed by lax second amendment spiced
within wanton murderous sprees wherein assassin
literally calls the shots (supplanting
assigned storied halls with din
of fire arms (acquired
from pennies on the dollar,
or bartered for a bottle of gin
within the underbelly (viz black market)
of society, where trigger happy jinn nee
as slaughter sans killing fields mount
with resignation vis a vis
tocollective shrugging shoulders prithee
and upend safe havens i.e. storied academic re:
deuce sing self preservation (UNFAIRLY)
to activist minded students tree
ting each day as a survivalist course, thus WE
as coined on legal tender (E Pluribus Unum)
MUST unite against love affair with pistols, no matter
one or more mere mortals
think Matthew Scott cray ZEE!
Apr 13, 2018
Apr 13, 2018 at 1:14 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
The War on Books
The war on books, codified by Stalin’s functionaries
at the Soviet Writers’ Conference in 1934 and ruthlessly
waged by the secret police for the following fifty years,
was finally coming to an end, and Zhivago’s insurgent
guerrillas were winning.
-Duncan White, Cold Warriors:
Writers Who Waged the Literary Cold war
What books will America purge this week -
What childhood adventures, what scholarly works
What entertainments of an idle hour
Will be forbidden to us in this Land of the Free?
We pray that nations blessed with liberty
Will smuggle books to us, stories and poems
With innocent ideas that give delight
And in their innocence threaten tyrants
What books will America purge this week –
And when did we become afraid of ideas?
Mar 29, 2021
Mar 29, 2021 at 9:16 AM UTC
The people approach with their codified fears,
the ones written for the protection of securities
that flinch and flee in the face of loving and dying,
and they successfully convince me to not dare
have that thought beyond the thought, and not move
my limbs through postures choreographed by passions
stoked far beyond our minds, and not approach you
with a daring beyond my timid heart to give you
a reckless slap on the shoulder and pinch on the thigh.
Don't do these things, for beyond is only the sparks
dancing above the fire, burning out quickly on the wind,
and that's no fortune you can retain to prop up your children
wading among the fear of the people.
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 1:32 AM UTC
Arctic economy. My heart thaws out to its odyssey. Consecrating the spirits
It reduces the drama for me drastically !
Modifying the weather, codified as nature I see the SUN in all .
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 11:13 PM UTC
he has become a gray man in a graying world
eyes fixed forward purposefully
codified rules, missal
clutched tightly in hand
betrayed by trust
refuted in insipid halls
were learning no longer matters
unable to discern
wisdom bleeds out to folly
applauded by the mob
their gray eyes and atrophied souls satisfied
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 7:28 AM UTC
Temporarily engrossed
with some routine
activity with aplomb
(such as dismantling
an atomic bomb)
every now, and
again these myopic
(brown) eyes regularly glanced
at the clock calm
lee aware of traversing,
thru space/time continuum,
for no apparent
reason, (or rhyme)
I suddenly felt ****
founded, and struck
with quirky query,
asper, whence upon
whatever revelation
did the passage of seconds,
minutes, or hours did ham
handedly become codified,
delineated, and etched
allowing, enabling,
providing humans
to fritter away life
in a traffic jam
hence, ewe may
**** head sideways,
or bleat me like a lamb
moost likely breaking out
[with the verse a ram...sam...sam
Guli guli guli guli guli ram sam sam
A ram sam sam, a ram sam sam
Guli guli guli guli guli ram sam sam
A rafiq, a rafiq
Guli guli guli guli guli ram sam sam
A rafiq, a rafiq
Guli guli guli guli guli ram sam sam]
perhaps, now even
more so befuddled than before
by my challenge
to communicate,
vizier, i.e., whether ye har
sir man or ma'am
how the vista of
the past present or future
(oh...way before 'Nam!)
basically what conditions -
also oh yea,
way before Ram
mud Dan coalesced
to beget getting the
shed jewel for the tram
so as NOT tug *** supervisor
to hit you with a WHAM!
Oct 28, 2018
Oct 28, 2018 at 10:03 PM UTC
We have built for ourselves a Faraday cage
And locked ourselves inside; no rays can touch
Our souls codified in magnetic strips
The Good, the True, and the Beautiful in chips
No ray, no beam, no pulse can penetrate
The protection racket of secret codes
(Except when they ****** well can and do)
While we posture behind scientific wires
Passive self-destruction is all the rage
For this
We have built for ourselves a Faraday cage
Dec 20, 2018
Dec 20, 2018 at 3:41 PM UTC
in the south,
the drawl is just one
of many a
sad love song
sad?
aye,
a trickery,
it’s a
rhythm rustler,
rhythm hustler,
a vipers innocuous,
a woman’s poem
poisonous spoken
this fool northern boy,
lay on the grass,
at her feet,
attentive
smiling
cause he loves listening
to the drip drip,
of the warming venom
seeping in to his cold,
codified northern veins
and his fooling ways
Jun 20, 2020
Jun 20, 2020 at 9:41 AM UTC
Ah revolution when is your time
as things have evolved
to a known way
Form, good form has been worked out
Rules codified and agreed upon
One half of the involved Humanity
Happy in the known
Known at last
Peace
The other half have had it
and are ready to blow it up
and start again
revolution
Usually these two are married
Copyright@2018 Dennis Willis
Dec 10, 2018
Dec 10, 2018 at 11:55 PM UTC
I stared the crowd down squinty,
always squinty,
a jaw tooth grinding, neck vein
throbbing squinty.
I ****** the mike like a baseball
and spit the windscreen drenched
with naive codified lyric.
They took it all in.
The blender chewed them
to a fine puree of sweat,
bodies and stomped glasses.
And I eyed them squinty,
angry less at Reagan,
angry less at their sheepish
individuality, less
at proliferation or the grim
disparities of class or color -
more so at the soap
in my hair that gave me spine
and drooled stinging into my eyes.
Jul 23, 2019
Jul 23, 2019 at 6:23 PM UTC