"cordially" poems
Lone star walking roads,
crowbar in hand
cowgirl I'll die for,
I died and I died again,
fluent in 6 country's,
passports; pardons
no cargo,
but luggage is a stainless steel flask,
half full,
half way,
to the moon
if you asked me?
Cadillacs in space,
expensive taste
that's masked with
— the cheap stuff,
inspired souls,
they walk,
and this forsaken path,
they'll never make hell a ***** deed or two from heaven,
counterparts
we're equals,
we're lost
they're my colleagues,
a scandal from remembrance,
remember we followed rules?
no response
****
there's a shift
in the rubix cube,
a memo from the warden,
no weapons in the visit room,
coordinating sin,
a taste of gin
before the see you soons,
world was much warm before stone replaced the sand dunes,
scoff at the elixir,
cordially
she casts stones,
******* of a demon crossing ponds is all the child knows,
tales of the fishermen,
who heard it through the corridors,
all and all departed,
with a fear of the other gods,
strictly prohibited,
a swig of the forbidden fruit,
who are you to judge me,
When Your Son Is Not Of Holy Proof!
wedded to a mortal said your honor,
absent i do's,
abstinence is bliss
and your crime ascends civilian law,
guilty -- you're filthy,
your son will never know your soul,
I know my role and play it well,
Your god never admits he's wrong,
so why would I?
— a baby cried,
I'm present for my son's birth,
and leave before an open eye the practice of a perfect curse.
Sep 29, 2016
Sep 29, 2016 at 8:13 AM UTC
Tip Your hat
And curtsy low
The masses so mandate absolute guile
A handshake, a smile, a proper and refined bow!
To adorn thy head and semble wit
And do your best!
Take pride with etiquette
If not informed
Ye won't last a mile
And differentiation between animals distinguishes you,
Resplendent child
Wash your hair and underclothes with soap
Lest ye resemble sow
And goodness dear
Have I forgotten now?
Always remember to smile!
So I'll take your Winter clothes with zest
I'll scramble on point
No unruly mess
Oh, did i forget your coat?
No, I've got it, relax, care for a smoke?
My apologies, please forgive my latency
It must be warm in here for my blood
In fact...
Boiling over kettle within
Prevent me from committing sin
I do wish to vent
Pick up this pen
And release red wells from his dainty, fragile neck
Or...
The underbelly. It's beknownst to me entrails are thick
Now whatever shall I do with this fresh clutter?
I'll act for free, so cordially!
With my chivalrous lines
But can you, my friend, respond in kind?
After all, it's only common courtesy
It's over now, my fantasy
It dissipates with urgency
And this is my confession
Yes
Imbibed in me from every grueling, tedious lesson
An implication of uniformity
The daydreams borne from the perfunctory
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:56 PM UTC
After so long an absence
At last we meet agin:
Does the meeting give us pleasure,
Or does it give us pain?
The tree of life has been shaken,
And but few of us linger now,
Like the prophets two or three berries
In the top of the uppermost bough.
We cordially greet each other
In the old, familiar tone;
And we think, though we do not say it,
How old and gray he is grown!
We speak of a Merry Christmas
And many a Happy New Year;
But each in his heart is thinking
Of those that are not here.
We speak of friends and their fortunes,
And of what they did and said,
Till the dead alone seem living,
And the living alone seem dead.
And at last we hardly distinguish
Between the ghosts and the guests;
And a mist and shadow of sadness
Steals over our merriest jests.
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The Bee is not afraid of me.
I know the Butterfly.
The pretty people in the Woods
Receive me cordially—
The Brooks laugh louder when I come—
The Breezes madder play;
Wherefore mine eye thy silver mists,
Wherefore, Oh Summer’s Day?
3.3k
I'll be your raindrop
if you'll be my window pane
or
I'll be your wet blouse
if you're caught in the rain
Be my asylum and
I'll be your criminally insane
and
I'll be your stock options
if you'll be my net gain
If you were my trap
I'd cordially be your reeking dead mouse
or
I could be your wrap-a-round porch
if you'd be my creeking old house
I'll be your idiot
if you'll be my quick thinker
and
You can be my Bud Lite,
I'll be your binge drinker
I'll be your loser
you can be my laughing hyena
or
You can be my cougar
and I'll gladly be your half-dead zebra
Be my ****** predator
I will be your self-defense class
or
I'll be your censorship and
you can just be your own **** ***
Oct 4, 2011
Oct 4, 2011 at 11:08 AM UTC
Friends, family, foes, and those of woe,
I invite you to dance this delicate tango with me,
right on the line of reality and fantasy.
It is here, that,
I invite you to the mad tea party.
Now, let us get one or two,
three or four,
maybe ten, one hundred, zero things straight,
you are not to be late to the mad tea party,
you are to set your time straight and do not stray,
but rather show up without delay at the time that serves your mental estate,
at a time that feels right with your bones,
now, now don't miss that time and don't be late.
We are of strict dress code here at the mad tea party.
You are not to wear what you saw on him and she and her and we unless it is of,
suitable expression to your situation,
you are to dress accordingly with your mentality,
nothing else will pass the test.
You are to act accordingly.
Do not laugh when not appropriate, and sit up straight when your spine tells you.
Do not speak when your mind is forced to be spoken.
Now, have we all straight.
I cordially invite you to the mad tea party.
Where we dine and wine and tell tales of time,
and rejoice on the words those delicately spoke,
and dance on the lines theatrically strewn across the room,
and sail across every last tale from you and he and yeah her over there too.
I invite you to the mad tea party.
I invite you tell of when you first saw the earth breath,
when the trees and the leaves set to dancing,
when you first heard the wind laugh at your grin,
and when the raindrops ran fearfully from the erupting sky.
I demand of you to tell nothing but that of truth,
and watch as the molecules in the air take to vibrating.
Take notice to musical clinking of the entities amidst you,
and take pride in the gentle stride of the clouds overhead.
Did you notice the flowers laughing at you,
in between the birth, death and rebirth in accordance with the sun?
Did you notice the flowers pull in their petals as they shyed from your step?
Take notice to the music and laughter around you at the mad tea party,
take great care with the feelings floating about the air, vulnerably buzzing from mind to mind,
before their decline and descent to rest their heads.
You see, it is here at the great mad tea party,
that we do not devoid you of the ability to do as your energy demands,
with the issues of time and dress and proper behavior.
It is here that we tend to focus on the earth and the breathing of the molecules and atoms around you,
it is here that we go mad.
and it is here that I cordially invite you,
but before you make your reservation, please eliminate all hesitation.
You see the mad tea party is not readily accepted,
by the constraints of society and the binds of reality.
You see the mad tea party is misconstrued by masses more than just a few.
Those who long buried their soul look down on the guests,
for they are different than the rest, in that, they're welcoming,
into their soul the ability to go mad which is taught to be bad.
So before you make your reservation be inexplicably sure,
that you are in fact,
ready, for the mad tea party.
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 11:32 AM UTC
I'm falling in love
With my computer
Yes it's true
Just look at all the things
I can do
Youtube, articles,
**** and chatrooms too
To my PowerBook G4
Yes, I profess
My love to you!
Two months from now
We will tie the knot
I promise to update
Your hardware
And software as well
And no money offered
Would ever cause me
To sell
You to anyone
Our life journey together
Is fun
After all you taught me
About the human being
So strange, I know it seems
The chat rooms are my favorite place
People on mic and cams
A human connection occurs
Which brings a smile to my face
Because you are older
They don't make the latest version
Of java for you
But that's okay
I will always love you
Anyway!
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 7:22 PM UTC
From Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning,
please come flying.
In a cloud of fiery pale chemicals,
please come flying,
to the rapid rolling of thousands of small blue drums
descending out of the mackerel sky
over the glittering grandstand of harbor-water,
please come flying.
Whistles, pennants and smoke are blowing. The ships
are signaling cordially with multitudes of flags
rising and falling like birds all over the harbor.
Enter: two rivers, gracefully bearing
countless little pellucid jellies
in cut-glass epergnes dragging with silver chains.
The flight is safe; the weather is all arranged.
The waves are running in verses this fine morning.
Please come flying.
Come with the pointed toe of each black shoe
trailing a sapphire highlight,
with a black capeful of butterfly wings and bon-mots,
with heaven knows how many angels all riding
on the broad black brim of your hat,
please come flying.
Bearing a musical inaudible abacus,
a slight censorious frown, and blue ribbons,
please come flying.
Facts and skyscrapers glint in the tide; Manhattan
is all awash with morals this fine morning,
so please come flying.
Mounting the sky with natural heroism,
above the accidents, above the malignant movies,
the taxicabs and injustices at large,
while horns are resounding in your beautiful ears
that simultaneously listen to
a soft uninvented music, fit for the musk deer,
please come flying.
For whom the grim museums will behave
like courteous male bower-birds,
for whom the agreeable lions lie in wait
on the steps of the Public Library,
eager to rise and follow through the doors
up into the reading rooms,
please come flying.
We can sit down and weep; we can go shopping,
or play at a game of constantly being wrong
with a priceless set of vocabularies,
or we can bravely deplore, but please
please come flying.
With dynasties of negative constructions
darkening and dying around you,
with grammar that suddenly turns and shines
like flocks of sandpipers flying,
please come flying.
Come like a light in the white mackerel sky,
come like a daytime comet
with a long unnebulous train of words,
from Brooklyn, over the Brooklyn Bridge, on this fine morning,
please come flying.
2.9k
Lights and colors, Lights and colors dwindle in numbers
Set a step in coordination
Fully exasperated
nonsense passes by, through images
Lenses smudged by illusive thumbprints
Who are you
Are you speaking cordially
heart trusted intuition and guts mustered
Seeping into the depths of darkness
see a surprise unseen by eyes of seekers and juveniles
Founded a resolve
Sturdy foundation like a trunk of a tree
Feed me turds quench my thirst with poison
Wrap a child sleeping soundly in a blanket of lava
Let's follow the righteous side even when full of lies
Stray from a darker path were the light of truth is easier to find
Follow the good where everything a light
and turn so you won't have to face the knife
Inject a form of lies and cast the mirage of truth over your eyes
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 9:37 PM UTC
Lost my way in these salad days,
started to drown in your salad ways,
this distance keeps me from feeling whole,
causing disparity of the soul,
Cordially invited to share my fate,
you didn't show up, you were fashionably late,
Id packed my burdens in a trunk of desire,
but you stamped on the embers, put out the fire.
And if credence could talk and was given a face,
it would be my companion in this fall from grace,
but for now I’ll just accept my plight,
take a walk in the shadows, avoiding the light.
Oct 4, 2014
Oct 4, 2014 at 2:15 PM UTC
Let's talk about this jazz club
that lives in my cellphone
in 1950 something with Chet Baker
back from the dead.
Let's toast to random notes taking flight
into the city in the middle of nothing nights we've known or been familiar with.
Let's shake hands cordially with the unfamiliar as in "deal", or "peace be with you" as if in church, tipping hats at that stranger passing by at the crosswalk some late evening in spring alongside dandelions sprouting forth from the pavement. Let's read between breaks of beats Kerouac must have hit in 1950 something San Francisco in yelps into the moonlit stages of the balcony of his boxcar boxcar boxcar gone by in a mad blur with whatever graffiti'd message of hope it bore on its sides. Let's hitch into the unknowingly infinite by way of the pen's mighty point. Let's unlearn the way syllable by syllable and demolish languaged signs like hurricane force candor blowing down fact-ory made terms and political decorum as smoke from the pages of their corporate handbook joins the Chet Baker solo note pilgrmage into the holy skyline. Let's move side by side unspoken as those jazz notes he forgot to play. Let's fill in those blanks with uninformed confidence beyond our abilities and grasp the unsayable names of our dreams remmebered. Let's see in seconds passing like bums inebriated with the holy moments gone too soon. Let's talk about nothing but this sacred second at hand on this clock unseen pointing overhead to the face of the moon gone full and hungry for attention. Let this happen only now. Only then will we talk about where it's going.
Apr 14, 2018
Apr 14, 2018 at 12:44 AM UTC
on the day
we obviate all wars
our eyes shall see
a new dawn
as brothers and sisters
of the earth
we'll bear witness
to tranquility
history's pages
wrought in killing stains
conflicts repeated
too many times
our planet's inhabitants
all so blind
they see not
the dove of peace
man has forgotten
the tenant
of loving
thy neighbor
as an awful consequence
the gun rules with might
unto the drum
of nonviolence
man has not yet
begun to march
lay down
the sword of war
as it gravely
shadows all nations
on the horizon
a light doth flicker
beseeching man
to live cordially
dark clouds ever
they're looming
which path
shall man walk upon
the high road
leads to quiet
arms dispensed with
and deposed
pursuing the trail
of rancor
brings but
discordant clashes
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
Today I reached for you
With a kind of virtue
And sincerity pressed behind
the design on my lips
Little realizing I was still reviling
Within my current remiss
I went and sinned again darlin'
There's little to do for recompense,
and so cordially I professed to you
all of my candid truths
With every intent
To avoid becoming uncouth
and elusive
Because... I do miss you
And I suppose I well knew...
You don't feel the same
I could feel it the instant you responded
Not the least bit concerned
Which was well deserved
Leaving me completely despondent
I need you to remind me
Just how lost my heart has become
And what that has cost anyone
Trying to reach for me
When I become undone
Somewhere in between
the real desire to reignite whatever fire
had transpired between us
With a new flame
Lay my hidden ulterior motive
Even I believed we would achieve
Something constructive
Yet my devious mind
Deceived even myself
To harness this abject,
self-destructive desire
Call me by my real names:
Heartless.
Narcissist.
Liar.
Coward.
Creep.
Thief of catharsis.
Remind me of the same feeling
Delivered in your own unique way
Because I can't stand
To let myself ever forget again
This pain in my chest
Is everything to remain
It's all I have left
Aug 21, 2019
Aug 21, 2019 at 3:46 PM UTC
picture this,
o sons of judah:
arctic shallows, a
shellbeached leviathan cordially extending
an invitation to this
everfast slowdance of heart
throb lust in the
inkwell satisfaction of knowing you bleed
india blue & bone china and the moths that got
into the tent will swallow the naphtha in time;
*there are parts of you that
are never clean.*
yeah isn’t that
wonderful
? mark the few drops of
tequila left & a
heavy sunrise in your
swankissed beechwood
heart;
*there are parts of you that
will not be released.*
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 6:17 PM UTC
Crack, a littlesound from the mast
Reacting cordially to the touch of the monsoon
On her old wooden structure
A tender embrace he gives
Stretching wide the black canvas
Whispering tales of the brave
The once beautiful and strong
But now lay wrecked at sea bottom
Harboring souls of the deadCaptain Black and his crew
An old map of the sea
To the lost moving island
Resting the rulers of the sea
The great kings of pirates
Whoosh, gentle waves drifting
Rocking us rhythmically
A musical sensation it feels
Like a fine tune of a classical
Conducted live in the open sea
Trumpets, trombones and tubas
Violins, violas and harps
A symphonic sound for the traveling souls
And as the sea guardians work
Attending to Captain White in his cabin
I stand on the deck
Relishing thecold breeze
Watching the moon shiftOn a midnight sail
Apr 23, 2016
Apr 23, 2016 at 5:26 PM UTC
Deep down a rabbit’s hole
Lies a strange and wonderful place
Where there is no such thing as time
Or sanity or space
You fall into a room
Where there’s a drink that can make you small
A door so very little
And a cake that can make you tall
A garden where flowers can talk
Where a smart mouthed caterpillar make smoke rings
An island where dodos live
And where birds and sea creatures sing
Down the road live a hatter and a hare
Their cakes and tea are the very best
Both so mad and very insane
Asking why a raven is like a writing desk
In a palace lives a Queen
Who is very short tempered
And with just four little words
She can have your head dismembered
A yard where they use flamingoes and hedgehogs
To play a game of crocket
And forests where bread-and-butterflies
And rocking-horseflies come out and play
Up a tree lives the Cheshire Cat
Who slowly disappears
Telling a young, blond haired girl
Almost everyone is mad here
In this place, it makes sense
That what it is it wouldn’t be
And what it wouldn’t be, it would
Logic of childish insanity
So you are cordially invited
To this place so eccentric and grand
Where nonsense is your guide
To this kingdom called Wonderland
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 5:36 PM UTC
Fire burning, logs marching
A path daunting, ranting taunts
Chanting seamed Arabic hymns
Chargrilled silky toned offerings
The exquisite yurt tent warm
Enclosed in ethnic kaleidoscope
Bedouin tribal pneuma radiates
Tensed and cordially punted
Feral wild ones sociably awake
Reticent,drained in frail noises
Fainting in lapses, trailed to fail
Tidal noises permeates above all
Waved and enveloped in beats
A drummed goblet, strummed oud
Announcement of the lived life force
The tidal rhythmic music timed
All clapping and mesmerised
Drawn in dangerous curves
A continuum of introversion sorted
The ever censored extroversion summed
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 2:54 PM UTC
11.16.07
friday
8:22 am
the invitation she feared came
in the mail yesterday
she knows now
he only sent it to try
& change her
mind
*You are cordially invited to attend
the marriage of--*
but she'll never tell him
"Its there if you change your mind."
she didn't bother
'cause around 6:30
that slip of paper
was on fire, dwindling to
ashes
on her balcony
carefully perched upon
her favorite bottle of wine
she'll send the RSVP back with
"will not attend"
Apr 5, 2012
Apr 5, 2012 at 8:23 PM UTC
I am cordially writing this to you in hopes that my wishes may be given the chance to come true. I only have one request, and I'm sure it wouldn't take much of your time.
Please give me the chance to see him
again. I don't have plans to hurt him, nor do I have plans to take him from the hands of his family and friends.
I simply want to be able to tell him, even if he doesn't hear, about the stories I've wrote in his name.
I need him to know about the way I see him to be, so that I am aware if I'm loving the dream or the real him.
I want to be able to love him in his terms of what is right, the way he wants to be loved.
Though I know the chances of redamancy is slim, at least he knows that I love at least a fragment of him.
Thank you for taking the time to read my letter, and I hope that, if you choose to accept my request, I am able to show my gratitude to you in a more concrete way. Thank you, and I hope to get my answer soon.
Feb 21, 2017
Feb 21, 2017 at 3:55 AM UTC
I met a wolf
Not really
His spirit
was guarded
By wolf
His words
Come like a
Bullet
They hit deep
Into us
Most consistent
Writer
I have seen in
This site
It's not easy to
Write in such a
Pace
I cordially congratulate
My friend for the completion
Of 2000 poems in Hellopoetry
More to come
Waiting for your
Machine gun
To eject bullets
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 5:53 PM UTC
And each morning as she slept
I'd take her a tray of poetry
A croissant of commas warmed from the inside out
An ounce of assonance
A cup of freshly squeezed couplets
A bowlful of rhymes
That inside she might find
Our promises of forever
The memories we crafted together:
I’d take her a teapot of
The little things we’d forget
In the busyness of daily life
I’d take her a knife to spread
across the toasts we’d host
To the moments we cherished most
To our victories and our regrets
And every morning as she slept
I’d place a kiss on her head
As I placed beside our bed
A tray of poetry,
The words she so carefully, cordially, candidly
Composed out of me.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 11:40 AM UTC
Staring up at the ceiling
From his spot on the floor
His worried friends
Keep calling
He keeps pressing ignore
Surrounded by empty bottles
And a fancy invitation
That contains
His ex’s name in calligraphy
With a date and location
Jul 12, 2016
Jul 12, 2016 at 7:45 PM UTC
This crazy conundrum has been conspicuously contrived quite cordially. Of course, one could concede this cordially contrived conundrum could carelessly conflate the countless quandaries causing quintessential quantities to question the conspicuously questionable conspiracy. Conversely, carelessly questioning conspicuously contrived conspiracies as cordially quantitative quandaries could create considerably confusing claims countering the critically acclaimed crazy conundrum so callously clarified as to continue to count as cordial. Consequently, with careless acquiescence, I must confess that the conceptually contrived conspiracy, so inconspicuously inconsistent, conflated considerably contrary quandaries quite questionably and continues to confuse the crazy quite cordially. To conclude, the crazed conspicuous conundrum confuses the cordially questionable quantities of conceptually countless claims clearly clarified as conflated quandaries continuously contradicting a considerable count of conspiracies.
11/2/16 11:59 p
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
We met at a coffee shop,
her name tag read Bernice.
Painted black hair, with devilish brown eyes.
She had a mesmerizing stare, which led me to believe, possibly speculate, she was rare. “I live upstairs” Bernice said with a ****** wink.
Her shift ended at 9, I was at the doorstep on time.
Cordially awaiting my appearance,
lit candles, no hearth, no fireplace.
Sweat dripping, mucking up hard wood floors,
A goat? Chained to the radiator sitting in the corner, loud as can be. It was a sacrifice of her virginity, the goat would watch.
I took it like it was candy, screams echoing throughout the night.
The sheets were white, now painted with blood. The goat, still kicking, making a ruckus.
I left the next morning, she gave me a quick tug. Scampering out the room, as naked as could be. A small mutter rang out,
“will you worship me?”
Aug 23, 2014
Aug 23, 2014 at 2:43 AM UTC