"coffer" poems
She feared execution.
She feared prosecution.
She feared empty coffer.
She feared uncertain future.
She feared darkness.
She feared loneliness.
She feared room and window.
She feared her shadow.
She feared her bed.
Fear was inside her head.
If only she had feared one.
She would have feared none.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
Fantasizing
Feeling
Needing
Something scarce is eating at my melancholy.
As I deliberate, a vigor burns beneath my blood.
I get so warm thinking about his hands griping my hips.
My cheeks flush at the thought of his skin pressed heavily against mine.
Unalloyed ecstasy
His subsistence is the key that reveals my coffer.
I beg to feel his breathing
For him to cognize how much I want to gratify his every desire.
Slow motion when I fantasize.
A room bursting of fine riches I could erupt with gratification.
A gentleman who can pleasure me both with innocence and sensuality.
Rarity that comes as one.
He demonstrates loves configuration, he bestows complexity and certainty.
One could ****** with the thought of his supportive charisma.
I weaken at the awareness of his reciprocated needs.
The definition of love is embraced through his actions.
Bleeding perfection, he is untouchable.
He makes me feel amity.
He is the dream I want to feel as I shut my eyes at dusk.
I can sense him so close,
yet when I open my eyes
I’m alone.
He is what every women searches for.
Jul 12, 2021
Jul 12, 2021 at 10:41 PM UTC
The fairys laugh in their play-
letting the sugary pollen flutter onto pale lashes,
with their pixie dust drifting into the darkest of ashes.
I'm going to lay back down,
Amongst the fleeting flowers.
For I swore I saw the remedy,
Hidden with in your golden heart.
Alast, I could have it wrong.
Was it not you, who dare to tell me, "be brave".
But is it not your spent heart,
at her feet as the blackest of ashes.
Glittering fairy dust, could not hide the ruins.
For evils wicked had already been undone.
A curse; a curse, upon your wretch soul.
Sweep the cinders in a coffer-
Lock them under key,
Cover your tracks.
Hide the way.
I forgive thee:
I do, I really do.
But please, my love.
Leave.
For if not, she will find ye--
And it will hurt only me.
Hurry forth now, The witch sends her huntsman.
The howls, I hear them dancing on the winds.
Run.
Do not look back.
But please, my dearest of dears, forget me.
As I have forgiven you--
Now go: A thousands I loves you.
Leave me be.
Sep 26, 2012
Sep 26, 2012 at 8:59 PM UTC
DUMPY TRUMPY
Dumpy Trumpy
Sat on his ****
Lumpy Trumpy
Infamous ****
He is not a friend
To the left or the right
And has no live dog
In the political fight.
Dumpy Trumpy
Pats his own back
Bragging how he is
Way ahead of the pack
Of half-witted politicos
With nothing to offer.
He thinks he will win
On the strength of his coffer.
Dumpy Trumpy
Made a big jump.
His gold plated ****
Made a sickening thump.
He waved his money,
He figured it’s enough
To sway the competition
No matter how tough.
Dumpy Trumpy
His Mussolini face
Deaf to the meaning
Of public disgrace;
He figures that even
If the GOP rejects him
He has lots of money
He’s sure will protect him.
Dumpy Trumpy
Plays to the stands
Of wingnuts and crazies
In disgruntled bands.
He’s sure if he curses
The current regime
He can be President.
At least that’s his scheme.
Jul 20, 2015
Jul 20, 2015 at 6:26 PM UTC
Candleabra's flickering flames
cast a shimmering dancing
shadow of me,
upon my golden coffer overhead,
brought about by a sudden gust
of window-wind... God's finger-breeze...
Master airy-finger puppeteer
you are
dance the leaves
about my Autumn yard...
Push and stir
soft light newly blanketed wintry snow
on lifting eddies,
causing flying fancy, barnyard dancer's dos-a-dos
among infinitesimal,
and featherweight
delicately frozen
crystal-looking flakes...
Push tiny tango waves
upon reflected sparkling silvery lakes
that crest s l i d e then fall
And spectator trees
that enciricle about the watery ballroom-lake
surface-floor,
then with airy fingertips
clap, clap together
the loudly whispering and rustling leaves
that applaud
the watery dancing waves below...
And with windy fingertips
sail white billowing cotton like
vapor-sails
across an unplowable
oceanless
spatial blue...
Glad God
You mostly are
puppeteer of every star
Dance sundries of objects
on your play-ball planet
and puppet-likened stage
And let me laugh
in zestful rage
about danceable things
that can be danced,
that can be danced
on windy-finger days...
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 3:09 PM UTC
every time i travel to Warsaw i fall in love,
i stand on the central Warsaw train-station,
and there's this girl checking her
mobile interet, phone,
and she looks pretty...
and... i really don't want to **** her like
the guys **** her in ***** movies...
maybe that''s shy i'm considered
"effeminate"....
maybe...
i just didn't **** enough women...
or maybe...
i speak the tongue of the crusaders...
but we sent the artillery...
the beautiful women to the Arab
******
and kept the nation safe...
Islam, akin to the comparison
of the Bubonic Plague...
Islam... virus of the mind...
i'll contest thi...
i'll ******* die for this...
i've been feeling weird for the past
few days....
Tom Petty died....
so... why would anyone give
a **** if Wayne Static
does the coffer?
so... i'm supposed to care?!
**** you!
Jeff hanneman died...
but do you see me,
making a case for a ******* parade?!
no?
good... that's how i like it...
******* south London
plonker!
every single time...
i fall in love with a girl
at the central train-station in Warsaw...
the love dies a sudden death...
when i get to the....
Western train station of Warsaw...
the Ukrainians et al...
the Mongols...
love's up,
dead, long gone...
i'm basically living
the enterprise in re-experiencing
a slow death...
feral lands...
these Polacks are like...
please don't land in Warsaw....
i know...
Krakow has Auschwitz as a tourist
destination...
but... but...
you will not see the generic
schematic of globalization...
every time i travel to Warsaw i fall in love,
and then i think of "it"...
**** marriage..
no thanks,
you have it covered...
on your way;
i might not be on the winning side,
but sure as ****
i'm also not on the losing side either...
and t think...
that i could even concise my
life within the confines of
imitating my father...
i could have...
but then... life...
isn't exactly a chance on bet within the confines
of a roulette.
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 9:54 PM UTC
So many eyes lay upon cursing skin
crevices grit, pockmarked with each thrashing intrusion
budding enthusiasm, awash, boiled...
suffer, oh suffer, green potato.
Crinkle cut? Jib of glut!
manipulate form and function
stain of starch satisfaction...
coffer, oh coffer, oh cough, ahem, cough!
It ain't about money.
That's right, mustn't disturb the soil,
So many eyes lay upon cursing skin
crevices grit, pockmarked with each thrashing intrusion
budding enthusiasm, awash, boiled...
suffer, oh suffer, green potato.
A memory, distant, the taste of that green potato
rots in the kitchen... eat it, enjoy the flavour,
dine on discourse...
digest it,
bury it deep inside,
release it,
let it grow again.
Jan 16, 2012
Jan 16, 2012 at 1:58 AM UTC
Sometimes I wish I could escape
I could be free from a restriting cage
All I want is to run from my agape
I try to talk but you do not engage
What are you but a deprived dragon?
Your soul eating what I have to offer
I pull my sorrow in a dark wagon
Though love should be in an ornate coffer
No matter, my sad love will not prevail
Your heart's ice will never be melted
Love will never answer my last exhale
From now I will keep my love belted
Because I must chase the clouds and dreams
For you will never know a heart's schemes
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 9:18 PM UTC
Dear Diary,
Why does life seem to wrap you up in a cup of madness
then tip you out and watch you spill
the contents of yourself
onto a cold and muted tile floor?
Why, dear Diary,
does everyone expect you
to react perfectly in every situation
and robotically fix and tweak and mutate?
Diary,
I am not a machine.
I can't bend this way and that
at the same time
without breaking.
I can't smile a smile
that I don't believe.
I can't,
and I won't.
Diary,
You have so forlornly sit in the back of my mind
gathering dust and termites and grime
I can hardly speak to you at all
for my problems you cannot solve.
Just a lended ear do you offer
A lonely penance for my coffer
To spare a word a thought, some grace
to be able to pick up my forlorn face.
I look into the ***** night
so hateful and full of spite
Reprehensible rejection cease
as it knocks me to my knees.
Dear Diary,
I do plead,
Save my soul
or else I'll bleed.
Oct 21, 2010
Oct 21, 2010 at 7:38 PM UTC
by Arcassin B & Wolfspirit
AB :Trying to pull myself out of this hole
of a downward prosperity,
confide in me or confine me,
I'm dead inside either way,
don't know how much I can take if I stay,
Down the drain,
down the drain,
down the drain,
down in it I go , from the story that was never told,
locking me away for money, this isn't charity,
lie to them , speak your mind to me,
I'm dead inside either way,
I just keep sinking more and more,
Down the drain,
down the drain,
down the drain.
WS : got my survival kit built into this psyche
pulling myself up with each downward tumble
ain't gonna let no lifetaster heart waster
selfish bleedin' souls pull me down
too busy making the best of this go round
time to take up slack and draw a new direction
upward trajectory, merely seeking perfection
this constant self effacing doubt will surely **** me
no longer waiting time to let the world thrill me
i'm a lover..i ain't no killer
juts gonna have to be my own chiller, thriller,
AB : hopefully won't drive me to being a dealer,
coiling my toes,
keeping temptation away in every step,
when dirt from the ground arose,
filling us up to be the stringy ones,
up on desire as I crept,
downward I go to an endless cycle of falling,
making me so so so so so so sick of everything,
I can't keep screaming,
down the drain,
I filled the void for days just to feel a pain,
down the drain,
you needing confirmation just seems pretty lame,
WS : no time to waste on commiseration
i walk proud, upright, secure in my station
belie the pomp and circumstance
get on with the joy, to live for the dance
this thing called life, we need only the living
to share the warmth of caring and giving
let sleeping dogs lie just where they fall
drop the issues unimportant and heed the call
each one has a gift, something to offer
instead of selfishly filling their coffer
it's like this and like that, when we get down to it
it's like that and like this, so let's just do it.
Oct 25, 2015
Oct 25, 2015 at 12:55 AM UTC
I hold coward’s doubt
Tuck it away, behind my ear
With wisps of hair to hear
Your whispers, clear.
Unlock the coffer of my thought
With skeleton key, fumbling-
********* the most intimate parts of me.
Bony hands grasp at my invisible flesh
Clawing away, at the nothing that is left.
May 14, 2018
May 14, 2018 at 12:44 PM UTC
And when you go into your room
at night
and no one is left for fear of a fight
And no one speaks and no one comes
to call on you when all is done
No one sees and no one cares
when you break down
They all swear
that it was all your fault,
They shouldn't need
to feel concern
while they watch you bleed
They simply pass you by
another day with another blue sky
They don't feel the pain inside
Oh woe is me, friend that won't confide
Silly, my fault for not speaking,
Who wants to speak when hostility rings?
I won't confide because you don't care
Seldom do you even dare
to pick up your head in an honest hello
or even pick your head up from the pillow
Of the couch,
Obnoxious and blue,
I sit too far away from you
To engage,
to be willing to sit
to tolerate your insipid
complaints, you ***
I can't help that
we don't get along.
I won't be here for much too long.
That is the only comfort I have to offer,
the only penance for your coffer,
the only tidbit of advice,
I'll be gone before you know it
So deal with the dice.
Dec 2, 2010
Dec 2, 2010 at 10:52 PM UTC
At the will of my wants, I grab at the bag my city has to offer, and coffer up the cash in my crash of a party that never started in the alarmingly empty vessels, settled under the rain, and below the fog in a swamp of frogs, and snakes, where i stake my claims, and state my name at the door.
Its darker here, but there is something more, hiding in the mud, the trees, and under the floor, rising up in waves in a haze of euphoria.
You just know it, it just is, just this feeling of forgotten forests rotting through the ages, of ageless storms that sweltered its soil through the toil of horned beasts, preying on predators creeping through the sleet, reeking of meat that melted in the summer heat.
Now its just a bar where i drink and type into this thing, completely unaware of the people staring at my cheeks flexing as i think, and i think, the sun will rise this time, but i still sink a bit deeper each day, and sign my life to work, in the murky smog where im begotten of beguiled planks that i march right off of.
Smiling, and inspired by the brinks i keep to my chest for the best of dreams to be achieved in the melancholy belief, that it matters to see the light in darker things that often freeze in the shadowy breeze of intellect, but once in, it is infectious, a pleasurable sedative to align my derivatives prism-ed from my vision to the sprawl of letters on the screen.
I pluck and pick what goes into it, and tune out the ridiculous ******** spread all over the dim-lit dimwits dozing in the smokers pit, reciting lines in inadequate rhymes of how they aligned their life's away, with babies and wives, equipped with knives that still hang from their backs.
The solo drunk drools the best, as he laughs.
Mar 3, 2013
Mar 3, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
*though the mills of God grind slowly
yet they grind exceeding small
though with patience
he stands waiting
with exactness grinds he all.
Henry Wadsworth Longfellow*
for the wicked there's comeuppance
yes, for plagiarist and troll
it may not be in present tense
but evil has its toll
for the greedy human tyrant
for the fat politico
the rich are as a vagrant
trudging through the snow
****** Pol *** Stalin
Napoleon's Waterloo
in disgrace and fallen
into hell's external stew
the world is a millstone
it grinds fine, or so it's said
born here crying and alone
finally we're dead
don't envy the deceiver
or those who perpetrate
they'll be the receiver
meet poetic Fate
God has a sense of humor
those who blot society
may end up with a tumor
in the end will not be free
those who think they're "first"?
pity the poor fools
they're actually cursed
to be the devil's tools
there's no skating through this life
they will all be doomed
the scepter is a poison knife
the coffer is a TOMB.
SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/23/2015
Nov 23, 2015
Nov 23, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
It's like live how? like you make it
copy down the sad crown
ride the wheel you made it
the strong misguided hatred.
-eclipse-
Bathing naked
The flurried atom swarms and indulgent desires strip me of my latest confirmed identity.
thoughts and painted-eyes
Department earlobe tenants remorse filled by the
phantasmagoric patience and comfort of pain.
So plain and petty feels like I'm crying "lone wolf!" double knot shoe tie
finite coffer rusty nails-stick latent reparation clips of manta ray striking tail whips.
The core is stifled to trip and fall upon the wet autumn leaves, broken twigs, and an earthly wisdom. Carry us, oh misleading stranger to a different home with Velcro that sticks to platelets and crust that covers elbows.
Hatred is stronger for the long-suffering and confusion when what we need is light
The fierce reserve beckoned to fight after immobility subsides and clears clutter away from the self-loathing, shame, and spiritual fatigue.
Maybe today is the day. This spot is reserved anyway and the wolves seem hungry.
Jan 12, 2013
Jan 12, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
#*Pay your obeisance to the Lord,
you'll be paid back with prosperity.*
The priest towers above the throngs of devotees.
Within the Lord's precinct is a rush for repentance
the arrogant bows down here
the wealthy falls on the ground
the poor renews plea.
The priest preys on their prayer
the Lord's coffer is full.
In that heavenly scene,
all sins are forgotten.
Nov 30, 2017
Nov 30, 2017 at 10:55 AM UTC
The die is caste, It’s do or die.
Attack, invade or fold and cry?
Send the hordes across Ukraine
Or sulk with International blame?
The banks are bust, the coffer’s dry,
Friend China’s left him dangling high,
Pro-Russian thugs in full retreat
From Ukraine Army booted feet,
His wagered bet became a farce
When Ukraine howled…”Up your ****
His revolution died it’s death
In white hot hatred’s foetid breath.
Decision time… retreat or strike
Fly in the face of world dislike?
Throw caution to the wind, attack
In the knowledge there’s no going back?
Risk global condemnation’s scowl
Or chose humiliation's howl?
Putin writhes in clefted stick
His destiny in cross or tick.
M.
8 August 2014
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 12:39 AM UTC
With every word
You give away
A piece of your heart
Precious than
Anything created
By mankind
Your lips give away
Your inner feelings
Genuine and pristine
This empty heart
Went looking for love
Never sure
Of finding the treasure
But your words
Fill every coffer of my heart
You trusted the wanderer
Saw through disheveled looks
Your hands in mine
The first precious words
Conveyed the innermost feelings
Wanderer felt tired
And wanted this to be his resting place
Now, and after this life
Forever
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 11:40 PM UTC
Insanity engraved in
Exhibition is going on
Madness instill
Paradox of false learning continue!
Nature encores its own functions
So called exhibitionism never inspire
to learn, unlearn and relearn!
So, madness continue
to engraved its own coffer for exhibition!
Jun 24, 2020
Jun 24, 2020 at 10:34 AM UTC
A quality in frost
that bites a sun-
drenched landscape
brings movement
about a body
causing reaching
hands to shake.
Toward an object with peace
inside a glass coffer.
It's pith displaying
A delicacy thats offered.
With a tension to shatter
what is tenuous to touch,
illuminating
one thousand more reasons
for trembling hands
to clutch.
As memories errupt into flames
Burning in a torrent of grace
The fire carries away
the glass coffer case
Inhaling short gasps of air
breath stolen by the flame
crawling along the carpet
the ash case sustains,
a sensation of annihilation
creeping into fate
Of becoming self-aware
In a glass coffer case
"Prey for eyes"
Soon the sun will shed
and give way to the night
Where frozen in position
A new glass coffer
will collapse and arise
Oct 23, 2012
Oct 23, 2012 at 1:57 AM UTC
Oh how I long for you
Everyday my eyes feast not upon you
Brings yet one more tear to my coffers
Everyday my ears hear not your sweet voice
Brings yet one more crack to my breaking heart
Everyday I think of you I grow more lonely
Everyday I wish to be graced by your presence
Everyday I struggle to make do by your absence
Everyday I want only to feel your gentle embrace
Everyday I struggle to make do by your remembered face
Each day that we are not together
Is one more day you hear not I love you
Each and every day without you
Is one more day you feel not my touch
Each day that passes into the next
Is one more I pray I see you
Each day I dont catch a glimpse of you
Is one more day that I cry
You are the reason I rise
You are the reason I dream
You are to me what leaves are to a tree
You are the only picture I see when I close my eyes
You are the reason I breath and the reason I cant
Each day your not here to hold
Is one more breath in the cold
Every day your not here to see
Is one more day I can not be
You are my compliment
You are my anchor holding me firm
You are my roots lest a strong wind try an blow me away
You are not the target
You are not the arrow
You are the strength to pull the string
You are the speed with which the arrow pierces the air
You are the force that strikes the target
You are what drives me to continue
Each day I struggle to change
You are the reason I struggle at all
Everyday I long to be in your presence
And my eyes see only a picture
Everyday I long to touch your face
And my fingers caress only air
As the images of you are created in my mind
As the ink flows from this pen to describe you
My heart is breaking for you're not here with me
Holding me and whispering I love you in my ear.
Dec 10, 2010
Dec 10, 2010 at 11:09 AM UTC
Today I was hoping a breakthrough
seeking good luck my way
lift me from bad times sticking like glue
growing like weeds by the day!
My coffer long starved badly needs to fill
but dwindling faster instead
no more can cope with long line of bill
falling time barred unpaid!
Fortune you know has her weird style
in choosing the man to shower on
while I dream for her just one smile
she prefers to leave me alone!
The ways she chose to send me her love
could in no way lift me from bog
she threw on my way a bleeding dove
dying from the fangs of a dog!
She cast on my way a famished old hag
who for bringing good luck was no good
just short of **** in her surviving rag
couldn’t count the days without food!
Without a windfall on the mire stuck
my hopes lay ruined by sunset
the night found me still a sitting duck
with another day lying in wait!
Feb 24, 2015
Feb 24, 2015 at 8:19 AM UTC
If you can’t trust your foremost-born son
But think of him as if he doesn’t care
If you can’t see the damage, been done
And carry on as if it’s yours to bear
If you can’t see the truth laid before you
But see the story filled with lies
And think that all the pain is for you
And think that you’re the one that cries
If you can’t see the innocent parties
Before you push away all hope
Before you chew them down – like smarties
Then leave and slowly start to lope
If you can’t see the fear you produce
In those that want and need you near
If you can’t hear the silence let loose
Nor see the dry and shriveled tear
If you can’t stop and change the angle
If you can’t see another’s side
If you can’t let your mind untangle
And push your twisted thoughts aside
If you can’t see a loyal person
If you can’t feel the prayers and blessings
Then that is why it will always worsen
As blindness will stop your life progressing
If you can’t see a family, loyal
If you can’t see someone to trust
None of us are godlike – royal
But we are all still faithful, just
If you can’t feel the help we offer
And realise what you truly had
You’ll lose it all to the garden coffer
Except the love I have for you, dad
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 6:48 PM UTC
*Affluence of love
Fills every coffer
Of the heart
Soul enriched
With gratitude
To embrace
The world
With love
Blur the lines
Of discontent
And leave
An indelible legacy*
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 7:39 AM UTC
Not too much on offer
Empty as the word coffer
Do not send me Easter cards
Christmas is enough thanks
Is it cheating
To give ten worders
Very long titles ?
Apr 12, 2012
Apr 12, 2012 at 2:34 PM UTC