"complies" poems
I can no longer disguise
Contempt in my eyes
The lows and the highs
It is you I despise
Heart no longer complies
While your heart denies
It’s me you chastise
Deceitful demise
There’s no compromise
I agonize
While you apologize
But my love I surmise
It’s fossilized
And I've normalized
What you’ve minimized
Gone are my cries
I’m numb from your lies
Like this I will die
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 9:35 PM UTC
Twice around the corner
Thrice around the bend,
Twisting through contortions
Will not make harassment end.
Disparagement aside
There's a lesson to be learnt,
That your overbearing manner
Won't prevent you being burnt.
The reflection in the mirror
Is immaculate and tight,
Actuality shows fractures
Though they're kept well out of sight.
There's a teetering fractiousness,
A blemish to your soul
And no amount of posturing
Will keep the image whole.
Your background is impressive
And scholastically well placed,
Achievement in endeavors
Show you've never been disgraced.
You're social stature's formidable
And your teeth are Oh so white,
Then why is it, that you writhe in bed
In the small hours of the night ?
Why do horrors permeate
The milky hue behind your eyes ?
What source the irritation
When the great majority complies ?
What keeps your ego dominant
When you see the weakness there,
When the light falls on your handiwork
And drives you to despair ?
Twice around the corner
Thrice around the bend,
To camouflage your character
Shall not make your problems end.
Marshalg
@theBach on sick leave
Mangere Bridge
13 October 2009
Oct 21, 2009
Oct 21, 2009 at 12:31 AM UTC
In experience you have learned
which tunnel to explore.
You enter this
tunnel for promises of
"gold and precious things!".
But this promise
did not enter through ear;
but thoracic permeation
Well prepared having
spelunk'ed before;
light- your pack
light- in hand.
Climbing, scrounging to escape
the tight entrance with
jagged rocks and false paths
it's many turns and falls-
although you cannot keep
your flashlight straight
experience triumphs, as in
a maze done quickly
once done before.
One strong pull
emerging through;
cave's pupil dilates.
Ground so smooth and wet
though wise to walk
we tend to slide
why?
Faster to the gold
Faster for exhilaration
Faster because faster!
and... why not?
hitting rough spots mid-slide
pain in debt to speed.
You let your feet
gain some tract
as the tunnel
narrows
Solomatic mind; without
doubt- body complies.
A slight gust tickles
but this tunnel is not through...
Alas! A shining shimmer is seen!
The earth is rough
to navigate
difficult; (but shimmers numb the sense)
pain soon saturates and stops your
smallest movement, heartbeat, fidget,
thought... The light is moving near?
As tunnels break space and time
and especially direction
feel as though you've lifted up
and the cave, the light, and all
rushes to you.
The sound of breathing relocates,
oh, yes that's you.
gun to back, hostage of Aphrodite
running, sprinting, breathless
you seek this precious shimmer
soon to realize it's coming
faster, harder, alarming to
you.
Looking ahead-
Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap
the sound the light bequeaths
not from ten feet but maybe
five, you realize it's you
heavy- pack
heavy- darkness follows
sprinting, pushing through.
And the entrance could not be any farther.
Apr 17, 2013
Apr 17, 2013 at 5:24 PM UTC
cats looking into your eyes
what does they want
what iz they surprize
the cat attacks
it is my demize
the cat agrees
the cat complies
cats eating brown food
cats not happy
cats no happy mood
cats begin to smoke and drools
cats doing many things
cats really rude
cats
cats
cats
the cat the cat the cat
I see him
he is terror
coming from the skies
I see the cat
I see his eyes
I see the cat
it is my demize
cats
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 7:08 PM UTC
There should appear some respite,
despite
the fact, I am a Nyctophile
as I too love my collapsing sight
I too flicker in the bright.
Like an earner without his earning
The dark existence,
by the sphere that lurks, partially satiated
'See-Saw' a fodder for human poets
The other aspect, totally denied.
Skin is imbalanced
which showers mixed colors
Why not an equilibrium?
Vampires licking honeyed sanity
The sane too, join the party.
But, if he complies, they wouldn't
If she complies, they wouldn't
Fluctuations are eminent
There should appear some respite,
despite
the fact, I am a dust stained file
as I too love my collapsing might
I too flicker in the bright.
May 3, 2017
May 3, 2017 at 3:34 AM UTC
Scoffed Pink pigtails nestle on rusted wire.
Captives and their butterflies,
borrow hope till dawn .
Way back they surrendered their dignity.
Hallowed chapters of Collegiate sobriety
tussled wearing a dress like a **** of hay.
How can they un- burden future perception?
I know of the fire storm back home
but the expectancy is forgone
Extended with shame
Pink Rayon complies disparagingly
already moribund.
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
The road to truth has many immure & acquiescent turns
Many tough battles with fire has left marks from many burns
Gruesomely the darkest hours of life are in the nugatory lies
The state of mind conforms with with deception as it so complies
It repeats on and on in the wild confines of a diabolical sequel
Its seems life is so riddled with impractical & daunting ways
People with poisoned minds, so narcissistic & shameful as it stays
To intersect with a soul of opulent loyalty & truth is seldom & blessed
But the severity of impeccability & prevarication having a fine line,
is a realization so strongly stressed...
©Michael P. Smith
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 6:31 AM UTC
The lady,
She is wise,
Rosy,
Complies,
Cosy,
But good god,
The lady is dozy.
She eats with her hands,
Her humour is bland,
Her laughter is canned,
Her emotion is ham.
Excuse me
The lady,
She is neat,
Friendly,
Meek,
Heady,
But my lord,
The woman's deadly.
She tends to ride side saddle,
Floats without a paddle,
She often will straddle
All that will addle.
But alas,
Though the lady has dangers,
Needs warning of strangers,
The lady has conquered,
The art of my heart.
Aug 17, 2012
Aug 17, 2012 at 8:51 AM UTC
The more i think of you, the more unreal it seems.
That of everybody in the world you'd choose someone like me.
You could of chosen anyone, but you picked me instead
And now I’ve got these thoughts of you,
Swimming through my head
You're the sweetest person to talk to me
and surely the prettiest too
I know that i sound mushy,
but I’ve fallen in love with you.
You have a flawless complexion,
and eyes so bright and wide.
I'll treat you very special and give you all my time.
You already mean the world to me and that's saying alot.
So i'll write some little poems, and tell you not to stop x.
Keep giving me the love you do and my hearty will open wide.
I'll give all my love to you and hope that yours complies.
Goodbye wasted evenings, i talk to you instead. So instead of living in the past, I’ll start looking straight ahead.
Sep 7, 2010
Sep 7, 2010 at 2:07 PM UTC
He brushes lips of chapped silver
against her eager waiting ears
words dipped in warm honey gold
weave through the still morning air into
pretty distractions and buttercup dreams
She’s falling falling f a l l i n g
into those alluring violet eyes
they make for the perfect Solemn and
Earnest when he wants them to be
spinning seductive stardusted half-promises
The gossamer sunlight glints off
his aquamarine hair, and it’s like
like winter’s breath crystallized on the ends
of those beautiful blue strands;
they snare her in their breathtaking tangles
She’s almost asking to be bound
so he complies with those
clever ivory fingers on smooth piano keys
as rich chocolate swirls of his music enfold,
intoxicating-saccharine like whisky truffles
As he reaches out to draw her close,
the world soars in a myriad of colours.
Oct 30, 2014
Oct 30, 2014 at 10:49 AM UTC
She looked in the mirror
Looking back at her
Was a monster
A monster that was made
A monster that needed to be defeated.
Who would win this battle?
She is lying there
Smoking gun in her hands
Unseeing eyes stare up at the ceiling
A trail of blood and brains
The monster grins...He won this round.
She looks at the bottles
Bottle of pills and a bottle of Jack
*Just take them...wash them down
The monster whispers.*
She complies
Drifting off into a never-ending sleep.
The monster smiles...He won again.
She studies her reflection
In the blade in her hand
Just a few quick slits
And it will all be over.
Trails of sticky, warm blood
Run down her hands
She watches as her life
Pumps out with the last beats
Of her heart.
The monster laughs...he always wins.
*In the end, it does not matter how it came
What matters is He won.*
Jan 15, 2016
Jan 15, 2016 at 8:42 PM UTC
The little worms beneath my skin
Control my muscles, make me sin.
The crickets and locust behind my eyes
Control my thoughts and my body complies.
The spiders live inside my bones,
Like hollow kings on hollow thrones.
And beetles in my lungs and throat
Steal my air and musical notes.
Butterflies float 'round my stomach, I'm sure,
They aren't the problem nor are they the cure.
Ants and termites in my veins
Flourish while my blood still drains.
My teeth have turned to hornets too
And sting me when I'm kissing you.
At least our scorpion tongues don't touch.
The poison would be far too much.
The centipedes still don't know where to go
So they crawl through my guts and continue to grow.
My heart is a hive for all of my guests,
A sickening hotel inside of my chest.
I want to escape, but I can't get away,
My body's a prison until I decay.
Take my skin off, give me peace,
Slice me up, give me release.
I'll spill my life in front of your face
If you'll lap it up and take my place.
Nov 8, 2010
Nov 8, 2010 at 2:53 PM UTC
The malady of age
and the dangers still ahead
aches and newer pains
some, just inside my head
The doctor prescribes
pills and other things
to him I'm just a number
waiting in the wings
The TV tells me of drugs
I should use and try
I tell this to my doctor
he readily complies
I know that big pharma
is ever in control
pushing every remedy
they ply, sell, and extol
I wish for blissful dreams
of painless nights and days
a human type of guinea pig
chemically played
Wondering, only in periphery
of smaller type not read
dying of the cure
Pharmaceutically fed
Jan 10, 2017
Jan 10, 2017 at 1:39 PM UTC
Thinking of the mountains in your heart that you try and hide so consciously,
Making it a point to return to them in the midnight,
A walk through the cragged surface again and a dream of the starry sights,
2 A.M in the night, dark outside, darker inside.
The slightest hint of light that catches the eye be an excuse for the sleep-deprived.
You dream,
You toss and turn.
The thoughts that meander through the lives you live, the alternate realities.
The right and wrong of every decision you’ve ever made tortures, you’re never safe.
You can see the slightest mistakes, the lumps forming in your throat.
You let your demons win, your mind an evil lair.
The devils take up the spaces, the light escapes.
The eyes are sunken, but the mind still reckless,
Unapologetic to the poor heart.
You toss and turn.
And when the heart pleads mercy,
Your body complies.
Curling up further under the blanket,
You give it another try.
Night after night, the same routine,
This life a long, lonely suicide.
The flashback, the memories, the love lost finds a space.
You toss and turn.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 2:45 PM UTC
These are the dizzy days, my dear
The times of tired eyes
The ills of an insomniac
Have made a strong reprise
With tunes of troubled restlessness
And dreamless, desperate sighs
This messy, migraine-ridden mind
So hopelessly complies
Meets all demands of moonlit hours
And city’s starless skies
Awake until the dawning day
Requires it to rise
A weary head is much too weak
Though wears a stronger guise
But cannot bluff itself to sleep
Though desperately it tries
Attempts to teach its tumbling thoughts
That they must not surmise
For guessing games are only good
At weaving pretty lies
And working up a mass of worries
To leave me to despise
This problem path that only leads
To peace of mind’s demise
These are the dizzy days, my dear
The times of hopeless sighs
The ills of an insomniac
Should come as no surprise
Not bed nor sheets nor pillows soft
Nor soothing lullabies
Can quiet all the quaking thoughts
Behind these tired eyes
The messes made of sleepless nights
Will make no rushed goodbyes
Will send me stumbling on and on
Until the mind’s demise
Dec 9, 2010
Dec 9, 2010 at 1:14 PM UTC
Je te chante
A toute heure
Religieusement
Les très grandes moultes belles et riches heures de Ma Dame
Je te les chante en latin à matines
Ave Maria Plena Gratia
Je te les chante à laudes
Tota pulchra es amica
Je te chante en latin les petites heures, les heures de pucelle
Je te les chante à prime
Regina caeli letare
Je te les chante à tierce
Benedicta es tu filia
Je te les chante à sexte
Obsecro te domina sancta Maria, Mater dei, pietate plenissima
Je te les chante à none
O intemerata et in eternum benedicta
Je te chante en latin les grandes heures, les donzelles
Je te les chante à vêpres
Alleluia Hosanna Musa Benedicta tu in Musis
Je te les chante à complies
Salve Regina Mater misericordiae vita dulcedo et spes nostra salve
Et dans le silence de ma cellule
Noire et blanche
Je te renouvelle
Après l'office des complies
Sans antiphonaire et sans graduel
Mes voeux d'humilité, de pauvreté et chasteté
Ecoute la prière grégorienne
De ton moine cistercien, ton baryton orthodoxe,
Ton serviteur, ton esclave, ton Musc
Nu et sincère sans habit et sans scapulaire
Nunc et in hora mortis nostrae
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 6:31 AM UTC
Twice around the corner
Thrice around the bend,
Twisting through contortions
Will not make harassment end.
Disparagement aside
There's a lesson to be learnt,
That your overbearing manner
Won't prevent you being burnt.
The reflection in the mirror
Is immaculate and tight,
Actuality shows fractures
Though they're kept well out of sight.
There's a teetering fractiousness,
A blemish to your soul
And no amount of posturing
Will keep the image whole.
Your background is impressive
And scholastically well placed,
Achievement in endeavors
Show you've never been disgraced.
You're social stature's formidable
And your teeth are Oh so white,
Then why is it, that you writhe in bed
In the small hours of the night ?
Why do horrors permeate
The milky hue behind your eyes ?
What source the irritation
When the great majority complies ?
What keeps your ego dominant
When you see the weakness there,
When the light falls on your handiwork
And drives you to despair ?
Twice around the corner
Thrice around the bend,
To camouflage your character
Shall not make your problems end.
Marshalg
@theBach on sick leave
Mangere Bridge
13 October 2009
Sep 19, 2014
Sep 19, 2014 at 6:13 PM UTC
a laughing dance,
hands intertwined,
we smiled, savoring the time
it is her, this she, she who rules my mind
emotion complies with tension
there's another he, who dances with another she
we laugh, dance, enjoy
yet a tear escapes my she's eye
i hold her, she looks at me
i smile, but a smile cannot be
for she, this lady i adore,
her heart is not mine
Oct 21, 2013
Oct 21, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
She wrote a poem to her old boyfriend
So that she would have a reminder of the BRUTALITY
••
The SWEETNESS of the pain!
•••
She wrote in honor of HER MASTERS
----
She wrote to tell them:
NO!---SHE WOULD NEVER TRY TO ESCAPE!
••
She cut herself so that she would look and feel ugly
And thus UNLOVABLE
••
This is how she knows they want her to be
••
(she does not dare try find out why)
••
She has *** with other girls to tell herself that life and *** are meaningless
••
All she knows is that she is supposed to suffer til dead
SHE GLADLY COMPLIES
••
She is a good little girl
•
She doesn't mind
Nov 19, 2013
Nov 19, 2013 at 3:10 PM UTC
With the burden of a million curses,
she scuffs in an unflagging way,
fondling zillions as it passes,
the aroma of hope it does spray.
What if time complies with us?
What if she ceases to budge ?
What if she gives in to our pleadings?
What if she doesn’t move even if we nudge?
With time sufferings would linger,
tears ceaselessly would wet your face,
that ” time almost heals everything”
would not descend to embrace.
Your wounds wouldn’t metamorphose to scars,
contusions would continue to reek,
pain would mangle you in its grip,
recovery, from none you can seek.
Despair would clad you eternally,
you will find no light at the tunnel’s end,
darkness would compel you to succumb,
no ray of hope would glisten to amend.
The woes of ailing men wouldn’t stop,
they would dangle on their death beds,
time wouldn’t pass rewarding salvation,
making you realise how tarrying time dreads.
Sorrow would prevail for good,
worries would always conjure up,
a wait would end no more,
an ocean would never come of a drop.
Joy wouldn’t replace despondency,
neither well being, malaise,
spring wouldn’t follow winter,
neither clarity , haze.
The crux of life is transience,
perpetuity we can’t endure,
let time slither as she does,
for each agony she’ll leave a cure.
Mar 31, 2020
Mar 31, 2020 at 8:44 AM UTC
The stings of angry bees
My sister sings silent songs of these.
They sting her ears
when she speaks of them.
A worker-bees wrath complies as
tears of honey fall from her eyes.
Her blossoming mind wilting
while they **** my sister dry.
Wincing with pain,
blinking,
going insane.
Her broken thoughts keep thinking.
They pull her hair from her head,
nails from her fingers.
Stingers rising from her bed,
that frightened movements triggered.
Turning white sheets to red.
A nest created within her head in which the queen's fed
my sister's dying thoughts.
Apr 6, 2014
Apr 6, 2014 at 11:28 PM UTC
I wish to make this promise:
of reaching through the grief-stricken years,
and into the parts of my soul that have been blessed
with a love I have never beheld.
And through this, encounter a willing piece,
that i can offer entirely to you,
until my whole being complies.
I wish to make this promise:
that I can soon release the fear I have been embracing
since i had the strength to hold on.
"I'm so paranoid about the past,
I can't seem to realize you are my future."
These are the words you spoke to me,
But that very paranoia suffocates me as well.
This is the promise I wish to make:
that I will practice deep-breathing
until I am yours.
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 9:23 PM UTC
Original master of bottled overblown ownership, around a flogging frame of masculinity, tone more reflective than any of your own, your a master, someone who takes the wheel, the navigator, russel crowe at his finest, with a head heald toward the mist of sea you take glee in knowing your place, your status, your finest hour, punishment, corporal, minsitster, sinister, your enemies fear you, your colleagues believe in you, won’t you take on another cruise ship, take on another fluke? Nothing is quite in danger, yet it is always looming right in front of you, the danger, the edge of the world, beckoning, its black marvel is a hole in the sea, and you will swirl around its edges, knowing nothing but the night, the cold, the winter, the old man with the mop in hand warns of omens, and the crew complies because they listen, they are wise,
Hold down your anchor! The end is approaching! you know what they came for, they want you intact, whole, at the core, a piece that they can rivet, take away, reach down to the center and feel the pulp at the fingertips, pull it out and hold it towards the wind, its our apple, bite into it again
Jul 18, 2015
Jul 18, 2015 at 7:25 PM UTC