"complied" poems
1317
Abraham to **** him—
Was distinctly told—
Isaac was an Urchin—
Abraham was old—
Not a hesitation—
Abraham complied—
Flattered by Obeisance
Tyranny demurred—
Isaac—to his children
Lived to tell the tale—
Moral—with a Mastiff
Manners may prevail.
6.8k
"you are so strong"
my eyes stared into nothing,
burning with the absence of tears.
i knew there would be a point
where i could not cry anymore.
what was everyone seeing?
because all i felt was weakness,
pain,
emptiness.
my exterior was bruised and beaten
but only inside could i feel the effects.
i was not strong
i was fragile,
scared,
and vulnerable.
frustrated by words of praise
i sank deeper into my delusions,
and perfected my 'brave face'.
i was not strong
i was struggling.
listening to the vital carts
wheel in and out,
my door never a separation
but a portal to demons
wielding gurneys,
needles,
charts and machines.
i was restless in my immobility.
i was not strong
i was numb.
calling for my mother at 4:00 am
she carried my weight,
she held my hand,
she washed my hair,
she changed my clothes,
she slept, barely,
at my feet.
i was not strong
my mother was.
days piled on;
hours lost in isolation
maddening my mind
and diminishing my willpower.
with every test,
measurement,
and procedure
i felt helplessness
swallow the living light in me.
still, i complied,
i waited,
i did what was asked.
i was not strong
i was a quiet fire.
looking at my damaged body,
examining my inflamed veins.
my face was swollen,
my hair matted.
i shook in my skin
disassociating my identity.
i was not my condition
i was not my self disgust.
i can not say that i feel better
just different,
which is neither positive or negative.
reflecting on 10 days as a ghost
getting acquainted with myself,
filling in the blanks.
i was not strong
i was surviving.
Mar 23, 2015
Mar 23, 2015 at 10:49 PM UTC
It is still blurry,
The times you held me helplessly. Holding this flesh that blinked with desperation. The glasses of problems brought to bed. Complete care with a side of beauty. Electric fingertips flowing along my sides. Stunning the flow in these veins.
It is still blurry,
The words that pressed off your tongue. Words that finished sleep and solid thought. The same mouth that has changed lives, comforted family, cursed like a sailor. Giving strength to simply continue. Moving mountains, depending on your approach. Making mornings sunlit on cloudy days. Your sunlight showed this life dissipated darkness.
It is still blurry,
Angst and tension between bones. The tension that can't be resisted nor denied. Giving me the strength transverse miles each way, just to sleep next to your breath. Open this heart, cuddle with its inners. Cut this tension with your actions knives.
It is still blurry,
The elation you delivered to my doorstep. Served purpose in my life. Giving me a chance to release all those dusty window sills in the attic. I complied an archives of you in my senses. The way you gave that heart of yours.
It is still blurry,
The times you settled the fears resting on your ancient dresser. Yeah the one you brag about. The one that held our water during rest, held our alarms to begin another day, and even our books of education shared. We have split these lives in so many directions. All ending in the same bed. Closer than my skin is to its bones. We were one in that bed. One after a life lived in every direction.
It is still blurry,
Your purpose. Actions and words in separate realms. All it would have took was a phone call. You insisted the benefits. Leaving us in seperate beds, different countries, different mind sets. Why not just enjoy love. Love lost in a storm of self discovery.
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 10:27 PM UTC
These people, they come into my life,
And so begins the chronic strife.
They claim to know me all too well,
Till reality is a mere ebb and swell.
They say they can read me like a book,
But they never take a closer look.
My joyless heart they never saw,
They never soothed my angry flaw.
To keep away in vain I tried,
They gave me words and I complied,
And once their emotional need was sated,
They ran away and never waited.
How does that make me feel about me?
Taken for granted will I always be ?
Nov 6, 2014
Nov 6, 2014 at 8:05 AM UTC
I saw you on the news again, aiming lies at civilians
You work like a serf to abhor the herd, which was merged by Lords to bore and encore, like a trap door in a dungeon.
What you earth and managed has got me famished, like the dense or pretentious, the meek and the senseless
And type endings to the finest that cry less, the winos that digress, or the shyest who digest
The plate which was purchased, paid to feed liars by the loudest were poisoned by us rebels running incense to the proudest.
Violently passive when distracted, these masses wreck havoc to have their heads handed to them
Sullen sweet to deter, you lure and reserve what is versed or inferred or implied or implored
Like the goodbyed or complied or the ladies waiting with lunacy lining their luxury gowns
Your disheveled and neat demanding appearance has me locked down with pirates and principle pilots
Dulled sick, they spy less, echo with insist, enlist and exist
As terrorists and presidents
Marked with malice making misfits that were mocked and disgraced, maced or laced by daydreams and magicians to assist beggars behind blueprints constructing islands
Which make slaves in to riots that capture journalists under wide tense
To suspend or impend doom sent hell bent by your priestess
You conduct chaos with fast hints, but quit slow when engaged with your conscience
Touched by divine tricks
Decided and destined, best in business
Prince of the wise man
Captain of the compassionate
Comrades with the crack heads singing anthems in kingdoms
We are heartbreakers painting bad graffiti
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 12:07 AM UTC
"You!" he said
"I like your smile."
I blushed a bit,
"Yours is nice as well"
I wondered if
Perhaps he felt
He could cure me by
Passing me a compliment in the cereal aisle
I suppose I thought
It was worthwile
Since after that
Happy things complied
Inside my head
The pasrtures of happiness
became fertile
And then I thought, for a little while;
kindness between strangers
should go back in style
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 10:25 AM UTC
You owned that second
when I could do
nothing
You ruled the world
as the road shrank
in my eyes
You Oh Allah
were my seatbelt
which held
You were the airbag
that loved me
in a flash
You were all and above
when I slid
as nothing
You whispered hush
and steel noise and glass
complied
You oh Allah
took no life there
nor let me
You control the heavens
earth and in-between
and You decide
Can I ever repay
You for a blink
of lasting life?
Apr 7, 2016
Apr 7, 2016 at 11:35 AM UTC
The young boy stuffed his hands back into his pockets and looked down.
His black shoes looked nice against the moldy, rotten, floor of the boat.
Water splashed up onto the back of his neck just as he pulled his hood up.
He had forgotten it was there and his ears instantly felt warmer.
Him, his old man, and his old man's friend had launched the boat 15 minutes ago.
After some trouble they got it started and began across the frosty lake.
The sun was still not up yet, and the temperature was below freezing.
"See the steam rising off the water?" the second old man had asked,
"The water is warmer than the air."
And so they had began their journey.
"Stand up for a sec, James, I need to get to the tackle box."
The boy complied and was surprised to find that it was warmer standing up.
Even with the wind slapping at his face.
Just as his father retrieved the box he shouted "Rich! Stop!"
There was another boat not 10 feet in front of them, running perpendicular to there boat.
Rich slammed the engine into reverse.
He smacked his head on the small windshield in front of him, knocking him out.
The boy's dad fell over and smacked his head on the side of the boat, almost knocking him out.
James went flying. He flew straight over the front of the boat and into the water.
Not even a second later the underside of the boat smacked into his back.
Not even a second after that the propeller from the boat sliced off his left hand
and also chopped down to the bone in his neck.
Time of death was estimated to be at 6:07 A.M.
Rich was alright, the crash causing a minute fracture in the second disk of his neck.
The boy's father was also alight, only re breaking his long ago broken left shoulder.
The single child's mother killed herself six days later.
His girlfriend never dated another boy ever again.
Until she met Bobby, who took her pain away with the knuckles on his strong right.
His father never returned to work, instead drank away his welfare and later his life.
Rich lived almost normally until his daughter was diagnosed with a rare bone cancer,
killing her within weeks of diagnosis.
Then, he moved to Arizona and was killed by a **** dealer.
And the world went on.
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 12:19 AM UTC
The phone ringed, I gazed at the screen.
I had never seen the number before.
Baffled, I handed it over to my handsome husband.
"Answer it," shoving it towards his head.
He hurried and said "hello, who is calling."
He looked at me blank and weirdly saying "I will grab her. Wait briefly."
His eyes blazed into me, "it's your grandma."
Shaken, I said, "Hello."
She did a joyful, "hello Kara Jean."
Determined to figure out what was happening.
I proudly said, " you must have the wrong number both my grandmas are dead."
She replied "I'm so sorry what a coincidence.
My granddaughter is also Kara Jean.
I swear we've been here once before."
Giggling I commented, "that's remarkably crazy. I'm not remembering."
Silence hit the air.
The old cracked voice women said, "or maybe it's just your grandma calling from heaven to tell you she loves you."
My throat being choked nothing would really be announced.
Finally my voice complied, " What did you just say I'm not comprehending."
An earth shattering laugh went over the phone, "You sound pretty amazing.
I know if you were my grand baby,
I would be proud to be graced by you."
Words failed me being a first.
Before I could get it together enough to say what the hell is happening.
She exclaimed hastily,
"I must be on my way, "know your grandmas undeniably love you."
Click went the phone gone with no trace.
Uncontrollable tears gushing out of my face.
Reacting as if everything was falling away from my body.
Was I hallucinating.
Could someone been playing a cruel joke?
Who would have the audacity.
Considering, could it have truly been a toll free call from heaven.
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 10:07 PM UTC
I reached home to be greeted by her brilliant Punjabi smile,
Her smile wasn't made up or forced, but it was a spontaneous one,
She was genuinely surprised to see me in reality and so was I.
She guided me to her room where I rested my bag after the journey,
Her face also carried a childish pure mischievous look in her brown eyes,
I then gladly complied when she came close to me for a lip lock.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 2:52 AM UTC
You strummed my chords
and played the song of lust
my body complied
controlled my being
moans and such
you held me yesterday
stretched me
cupped my neck
rested your fingers
on my lips
you strummed
and slid the rest
up and down my frets
I feared no more
my body jolted
with the thunder outside
as he strummed my delicate lips
down there
tears wet his fingers
it wasn't the song of lust
no more
it was different
he was clueless
that tonight
he was playing
the blues
instead
May 8, 2019
May 8, 2019 at 4:46 AM UTC
she'd been placed
on a missing persons register
she was last seen
walking to the shopping precinct
her whereabouts didn't get solved
for some time
police had no positive leads
from the public
a full scale search was conducted
but nothing new
came to light
she'd just disappeared
like a wisp of air
some twelve months later
a jogger happened upon her
upper torso in amongst
the Taylor lagoon's
reeds and muddy sludge
this discovery was something concrete
for the police to go on
a forensic unit scoured the area
in the hope of finding further body parts
and other evidence
a state by state missing persons
search began
to try and identify the victim
who'd met with a ghastly end
in the autopsy report
it stated that she'd been
sawn into pieces
with a chainsaw
as the marks on her thoracic cavity
and neck
indicated this...
the detective sergeant
complied the information
he had on the lady
for a brief in court
as luck would have it
she had breast implants
and on them was found
a code number
by tracing this number
and the hospital who performed
the surgery
pay dirt was hit
she was a resident of Kentucky
who'd gone missing
in July of two thousand and fifteen
a chainsaw murderer
did the deed
as six female victims
were found
across three other states
Sep 22, 2016
Sep 22, 2016 at 8:11 AM UTC
Her mother pushed religious ******** down her throat
But she refused to listen
Her mother pulled her hair and took away her hope
But she had accepted long ago her mothers love had conditions
Her mother always let her get caught in the crossfire of her anger
But she just locked herself in her room to forget
Her mother constantly called her a failure
But she didn't need her mother to remind her of her regrets
Her mother was fed up with her passive aggressive behavior
But she knew she deserved better than this neglect
Her mother always yelled at her for never talking
And she let hollow silence be her reply
It wasn't until her mother said "You should **** yourself."
That she happily complied
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 8:08 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
Abdul and the pirates
Often used to boast
How they had impunity
Along the Somalian coast
Taking ships whenever
The opportunity appeared
Holding them for ransom
So the ***** could be shared
Then the Maersk Alabama
Came into the sight
Of Abdul and the pirates
Quite to their delight
So they came aboard
Making their demands
But the unarmed Maersk crew
Took it from their hands
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
So they took the captain
Who had volunteered
To become their hostage
As towards home they steered
Hoping they could reach
The Somalian shore
Where they would be successful
In demanding much much more
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
A team of Navy snipers
Were quietly on the case
Looking for a target
When the order was in place
Abdul and the Pirates
Unwillingly complied
And that perhaps explains
Why it is they died
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Eventually who would fall
So they took the captain
Who had volunteered
To become their hostage
As towards home they steered
Hoping they could reach
The Somalian shore
Where they would be successful
In demanding much much more
Abdul and the pirates
Had no idea at all
That they would be the ones
Evenually who would fall
Abdul and the Pirate
Aren’t around to boast
How they had impunity
Along the Somalian coast
Quite unfortunately for them
They’ve become burnt toast
(c) Copyright 2015, Cedric McClester. All rights reserved.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 5:02 PM UTC
Every cascading curve,
Envisioned and brought forth
Colt brushes accompanied by oils served
Gentle glide to slight drag North
Smooth, fair *******
Of yellows, white and reds
Complied thoughtful hues
Silk of emerald, bride of white
Paintress’ gaze, lovers by night
Jun 16, 2020
Jun 16, 2020 at 11:44 AM UTC
ok
the minute it takes..
to trace the call,
to ducktape the suspects ******* face,
is the same minute a family home explodes in a cross section cutscene like 24.
more prisoners escape,
****** pretty, but they're spies.
suckers got forks stuck in their eyes.
the trucker died, his hat now a subtle disguise.
soft talk and the novice gaurd complied.
I told the brass this whole ******* place needed modernised.
shot gun cabinets unlatched,
the last batch of canteen fat contained celephaned grendades.
outside it rains and mud slides thick as the chase vehicles flip onto their sides.
the helicopter follows a costumed imposter through the shadows of a suburban night.
people thrown out the way on the street like extras in a detective series.
"Freeze: get on your ******* knees"
"Ive got nothing to lose, ive got the the ******* hostage and im offering a trade off
don't ******* shoot,
or ill put a hole in this ***** bigger than you can fix pig, twitching at the trigger,listen quick
take a step back or ill do it, push me piece of **** cop".
blood on the concrete runs thin as it navigates and mixes with no forgiveness or mission.
track back until the dead are insect sized, centred in the wide shot of the city, wait a beat then credits rise.
Jun 14, 2013
Jun 14, 2013 at 10:52 AM UTC
1000
The Fingers of the Light
Tapped soft upon the Town
With “I am great and cannot wait
So therefore let me in.”
“You’re soon,” the Town replied,
“My Faces are asleep—
But swear, and I will let you by,
You will not wake them up.”
The easy Guest complied
But once within the Town
The transport of His Countenance
Awakened Maid and Man
The Neighbor in the Pool
Upon His Hip elate
Made loud obeisance and the Gnat
Held up His Cup for Light.
1.4k
All my life I'd been starving.
This world offered me feasts after
Feasts but it seemed that even if
I swallowed the whole Earth
I'd still hunger.
One day a witch approached me
Promised me a magic sack,
That with the right nourishment,
Wouldn't ever empty
'Till I die.
All she asked for in return
Were descriptions of dishes.
Their taste, shape, smell, in detail.
For she can only eat
This way.
And so I complied with it, gratefully.
She casted charms, ordered me to eat:
"Just open your mouth, it's there."
Feeling groggy, I reached.
I felt it.
So marvellous, juicy, so fresh.
I praised that new found piece of flesh.
She smiled. "Dig deeper", she prompted.
So I'd broken my jaw,
Ecstatically.
Then licked the blood off my chin,
It was sweet and sour, just served.
How much further must I dig
For this feast's main course?
My beating
Heart.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 9:14 PM UTC
This time last year, my hair was down to my waist.
This time last year, I was 16 and in grade 11.
This time last year, I had a lot of "friends" I guess I was popular.
This time last year, I had a game plan, I thought I was going to be a Graphic Designer.
But this time last year was the first time I tried to **** myself.
Yes, to a lot of people this seems over dramatic, because "what 16 has anything to 'die over'", that's what my dad said anyways.
But I'm glad there are people whom are so naive when it comes to Depression.
I'm glad most people don't understand why I want to die.
I'm glad my little brother doesn't think the answer to "should I live?" is "no"
I'm glad my grandparents are concerned when I'm home alone.
I'm glad my mom gets worried when I don't answer my phone.
I'm glad my dad is scared when I'm not home by 4:30.
Seven months ago, I was put on Anti-Depressants.
Eight months ago, I finally told my parents how bad I was getting.
Ten months ago, I realized this probably isn't normal.
This time last year, I almost lost my battle to a bottle of pills,
And at this point if you were to ask how many suicide notes I had written, I would ask you to define.
Would you like to know how many separate notes I have complied into a binder, or how many notes I've left out for my parents to find after I've left the house?
At this point I can say I've had more attempts to end my life than I've had hours happy, but at least I can say I'm Still Trying.
May 16, 2015
May 16, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
Rolling meadows drenched in white,
Floating fields of such delight.
Just breath in the sultry air,
Soak it in without a care.
Lots of little children's feet,
Have left the track with printed beat.
Your bare feet, not fleet as those,
Love the dust between your toes.
Drop down now amidst the flowers,
You won't be missed for several hours.
Lie on your back, look to my sky,
Don't you think, don't wonder why.
Pull a daisy from the ground,
Plenty more, all around.
Pluck petals, small and fair,
Watch them drift off through the air.
Hold against your tickled nose,
Scent sweeter than any rose.
Innocent smiles light your face,
Reflecting the beauty in this place.
Petals fallen in your hair,
Fuzzy bees flit through the air.
Butterflies on painted wing,
Float as though on broken string.
High above the clouds pass by,
Imagine shapes, if you try.
The sun beats down on summer skin,
Warming your heart, from within.
Pull more daisies from the land,
Hold them gently in your hand,
Squeeze them softly against your chest,
They won't mind if you rest.
Footsteps raise you from your sleep,
Rising out of dreams so sweet.
But it's alright, smiles crack,
He's holding daisies behind his back.
A girl asked me for a poem about daisies. I complied.
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 2:06 AM UTC
I began writing of thee, 63
but after considerable effort and time
belched out only glib rhyme
when I recalled my last walk,
however, it was in winter woods, only yesterday,
the frozen ground crunched under my ancient boots,
speaking to me in its own verse
“move fast,
this white art won’t last,
make your tracks deep, soon
we’ll not make a peep”
so I complied,
stomping on the frigid frost
shuffling with aging caution on thick ice
watching my breath mist gray
the still air
was such the entire walk
one foot after another, making tracks
lesser numbered beasts would sniff and see…
fading remnants of the me
then I saw you, crystalline knives
hanging from brittle branches long ago grayed
reflecting all that came within your sight
in your solid time, dripping drops slowly,
silently, before freezing once again
in the approaching night
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
He was created to be destroyed.
He was invited to be denied,
and when the ice melted his anger,
and when the fire froze his joy,
he watched the sea swallow his love...
He watched the sea swallow his love.
Due to unintended mirth,
He complied to fate without worth,
He witnessed a damnable birth,
A thing with sinful girth.
He worshiped it still,
until he lost his will,
swallowing pill for thrill,
every **** for the mill,
to be ground into waste.
Even the moon was draped in slime,
even the sun ran out of time,
even the stars lost their shine,
even beauty no longer sublime.
I was there when he took his life,
I watched with hunger--holding knife,
to devour what was left,
a box of cereal; ate and left.
He wonders continually in another realm,
wondering at fore of helm:
why spit out of life like phlegm?
He was destroyed to be created.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 10:53 AM UTC
The Hunger,
inescapable,
rumbled throughout
your celestial body.
Temptation whispered in your ear
of more—
Greed and Sin
beckoned you,
too close to the sun.
But you, in a haze,
blindly complied.
Against Him.
Your wings burnt
in the scorching heat.
I saw the tendrils of deceit
encapsulate you
as your wings grotesquely contorted.
Flecks of burning faith crumbled
to nothingness.
A wordless scream
left your lips.
Almost instantaneously,
you, writhing,
catapulted—
a freefall of fate—
until you hit
the gritty ash
of betrayal
below.
You betrayed Him,
and so you became
eternally ******
scattered in the winds
of Hell,
my fallen angel.
Jul 1, 2025
Jul 1, 2025 at 7:02 PM UTC