"curtailing" poems
stop that.
curtailing the rewards of love
around the softness forming on her face
upon the news, you've broken up
and there's not a chance
of feeling any contrition
because you're all about yourself
most of the time, anyways.
She, wrapped in light and acceptance.
you, in the dark, smelling of bark and river
overnight.
thinking of Her again
stop that.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 1:26 PM UTC
Patti Smith - Jubilee
***Oh glad day to celebrate 'Neath the cloudless sky
Air so sweet Water pure
Fields ripe with rye Come one, come all
Gather round Discard your Sunday shoes
Come on now Oh my land
Be a jubilee Come on girl
Come on boy Be a jubilee
Oh my land Oh my good
People don't be shy Weave the birth of harmony
With children's happy cries Hand in hand
We're dancing around In a freedom ring
Come on now Oh my land
Be a jubilee Come on girl
Come on boy Be a jubilee
We will never fade away Doves shall multiply
Yet I see hawks circling the sky Scattering our glad day
With debt and despair What good hour
Will restore our troubled air? Come on people
Gather round You know what to do
Come on people Oh my land
What be troubling Oh my land
What be troubling What be troubling
What be troubling you
We are love and the future We stand in the midst of fury and weariness
Who dreams of joy and radiance? Who dreams of war and sacrifice?
Our sacred realms are being squeezed Curtailing civil liberties
Recruit the dreams that sing to thee Let freedom ring
Freedom ring Freedom ring
Jubilee Oh my land
Oh glad day Oh my land
Hear our cry Freedom ring
Oh glad day Oh my land
Jubilee Jubilee***
Dec 15, 2012
Dec 15, 2012 at 11:33 PM UTC
In the ballroom, half past the hour I struggle to find place where bleeding walls are curtailing chase. and in the crude mix of masqueraded hearts I found your true face I watched you stroll in and out of fits of love, destroying every good thing left to break
In the ballroom, three quarters past the hour I felt your cruelty pierce my skin and bone to a core, childishly toying with an old doll that couldn't take the pain anymore
so that one day when pride knocks on your door he'll bestow you upon the floor and may you rest there forevermore.
but in the ballroom, as the hour ends, for now you say amen before you feast upon the fragile thin of souls that belong to men whom may never love again. and may love never forgive you for this sin.
In the ballroom, for the rest of your extent,
may all the lost souls never forgive nor forget you for this sin.
May 9, 2014
May 9, 2014 at 12:20 PM UTC
An almost stillness came about as she strode into my door,
like breath itself refused to move,
fearful of touching her mysterious beauty
But her obsidian eyes betrayed her.
Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
she looked at me,
and I knew…
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Molten lava spilled forth from her mouth, melting our clocks—
eighteen hundred nightmares compressed in two hours.
Long hand moving forward, as the short hand moved backward
How can memories persist in such an acrid life?
She spoke of a beast in the guise of a man,
one who ravaged innocence with the flick of a click
A coward that collected milk teeth for hardened bones
of other ***** beasts with no spine
That throaty tenderness when she spoke,
sprinkled crystal seeds of frustration in me
She says she loathed him, denied she loved him,
but her obsidian eyes betrayed her
There she was, a bud he plucked from the nuns’ garden
He grafted then he pruned her,
spreading her pollen, wafting her scent
yet folding her petals to himself
Caterpillars feeding upon her leaves,
she lets them devour her,
yet once they are wrapped in their cocoons to sleep,
she stabs them with her thorns.
Tears then slid down from her midnight lace eyes
and it was all I could do to catch them
She said she was weary of curtailing butterflies,
of tearing their wings before they can even fly
I had to ask, how many… how many winged gems?
She lifted her sleeves, and showed me her scars
One ugly mark for each innocent child plunged deep,
my heart getting slashed at least three hundred a beat.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
A certain stillness came about as I strode into her door,
like fear itself refused to move,
letting breath touch her mysterious beauty for the last time....
Her obsidian eyes had betrayed her.
Sharp and gleaming,
with a silver sheen
I looked at the knife beside her.
Maroon-mapped sheets, a stunted womb.
Strains of Bon Iver’s “Flume”
flit past the sighing air like a butterfly,
and I knew…
Feb 16, 2015
Feb 16, 2015 at 6:11 AM UTC
Hate what’s mediocre and banal too.
Despise them both and take the two to task.
Their infection consumes flight of fancy,
Hidden behind a bland and facile mask.
Please write your tale to help disarm the pair.
Together we can speed up their demise.
Although there are greater forces at work,
Much more than most, the same do they despise.
It is still so, but the hatred makes way,
For the flight of our thoughts, thus creating,
Works of beauty; wondrous to minds of men.
What’s hated, in truth is sublimating.
The platitude “Thinking outside the box”,
A phrase by those whom ignorantly use,
Lead astray by these bland meaningless masks,
Fall short of honing tools with which to prove.
To begin with, there is a strong feeling,
An analogy in a nutshell which,
Is presented to aid understanding,
Curtailing a cerebral glitch.
Then a comparison to the flip side,
Passionately pervading all angles,
Adding anticipation and power to,
The carroty denouement that dangles.
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 6:42 PM UTC
Echoes, not retorts;
sound reverberates from walls
that constrain the singular,
curtailing the enthusiasms
gained from conversation;
increasingly concerns
remain unrequited
yet laughter repeats
reflecting mocking repetitions
May 16, 2010
May 16, 2010 at 8:04 AM UTC
have you heard that animals
come in more than one form,
not just covered in fur or lined
in scales, in shirts and jeans
they walk, talk and conjugate
have you heard that diseases
are more than just viruses, they
have names like thomas, luke, jeff,
scribbled in notebooks, sipped through
cocktail straws,
this is no friendly cherokee parable
spoken in elderflower and feathery
folklore,
the wolves are here and have always
been, you know they rarely come in ones,
curtailing escape, the abridged version of
all-them-who-called-wolf because we don't
cry wolf, we seek wolf.
speak wolf.
so surprised to have them at our throats
when we have been no angels--
neither devils
just another injured animal
trying to make peace.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 7:53 PM UTC
Xanadu; quintessence of the words,
Of beauty to our ears.
Not love of mind nor fanciful sight,
Nor tenacity of breath of those who might,
Speak provocation of effusive tears.
Diversification of those whose diction,
Expansion was sought imploringly,
Displayed meek thirst,
For knowledge first;
They’ll be blessedly beset linguistically.
Longing rills of liquefied utterance,
Reverberating waves aplenty,
Bellowing whispers loud,
Heard from within a shroud,
Giving rise to a barrel never empty.
Roaring murmurs of ripples in thousands
Cascading to oceans below,
A fast falling downward demise,
Sounding white truth and that of black lies,
Of onomatopoeic H2O.
Not stringent is the string of letters,
Lax are the words to be strung.
Not sequentially,
But dulcetly,
Outward beauty will be rung.
With a patterned strike using one’s cerebella Mallet
On the gong of one’s cerebral stock,
Eloquence imbues,
The mind your ears use,
Curtailing the perpetual tick tock – tick tock.
Facile masks circle that face,
Consuming as they revolve.
Filched is elation,
Taken is creation.
Yet knowing the inevitable resolve.
May 16, 2016
May 16, 2016 at 6:16 AM UTC
As I sit here
My eyes burning with the tears
I have tried so hard to hold inside
I hear the blood curtailing screams
of cell mates, trapped in horrible world
in my unprotected ears
and I want nothing more
than to find silence
in my broken mind
I wish I could turn back the clock
remember
the feeling of
innocents
that came without darkness or anxiety
but that is impossible
and even this
damaged person
knows that.
May 26, 2012
May 26, 2012 at 3:50 PM UTC
Make me
Believe,
Begin a commitment
A livid, frigid rigidity
Born and bred in its misery
All contemptuous purity,
Misleads serene duplicity
In all admissible virility,
Sacrosanct and all unviable,
This disposition unreliable,
Outlooks not so reliable,
Ridiculous and undeniable
This solitary moment,
Not in itself so all that potent,
Releasing all these fetid rodents,
Systemic linear motion
Curtailing our devotion
To freeing all emotion
Held true by we, the free.
We fall to power, victims
To this inhuman system,
All zealous to its deception,
Information, insurrection,
Categorized by failures at hand,
Unaware of the faults of man.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
Cry did the child emit from the newly joined world
Pain was it not meant to be but joy was unfurled
Happiness sprouted from this normative of birth
As the child I see before me runs in my bloodline on earth
A child the innocence of whom enlightens the eyes with divinity
A family's bond shall it be resonated to ever with infinity
Hush my sweet little child
Must not ever allow yourself trouble be mild
Daylight perceived is your beauty to that of the blue sky
An angelic soul shall come the spring of the garden of flowers
Beyond the intersecting horizon of the tallest towers
Comfort so relaxation enters the mind shall it arise best
Incarnation of such a grace will summon as none other than rest
Given is the hunger for one so full of youth
To fill a little stomach is to dine on the food of truth
The curtailing of the feasting is human's belonging of nature
Function such a basic need or shall you be prevented from the mature
Admirable so much applies to yourself should more you deserve
Ascertaining the diet contradicts such a moment for the food's reserve
For any toddler must not endure the dangers of gluttony
A deadly sin I fear would vivify your future of mutiny
Newborn normality is keen on rest and hunger
A burden shall I upon myself do the best to asunder
Longed have the heart of I to bore a child into my life
Burden yourself that you are not, you are higher than the fife
State of quality that you are gifted a mockingbird with it compares
All goodness does the heavenly creature rise up such crystal stairs
Consider you a dime a dozen shall I not in this massive pond
For my love for you will always strengthen our faithful bond
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 7:50 PM UTC
Eulogize ripped tears
Hazardous sight, from eyes of night
Fallen creatures they shun the light.
Catastrophic wailing
Cacophonous they weep
Pounding fists upon my eyes
Curtailing chance of sleep
Piercing me with sorrows
Flailing by the moon
They grow upon hate
It won't abate
It will not leave me soon
It would have me trembling
In agony of distress
But I won't let it bully me...
I WILL GET MY REST!!!
SoulSurvivor aka
Write of Passage aka
Invisible inc
(C) 6/21/2016
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 2:37 AM UTC
Patterns were forming fast
unstoppable
flowing rapidly
like a water stream
a purpose with an integrity
they weave themselves with humility and compassion
connected to earth
touching every soul on its way
they were like a balm
for many wounded souls
making a righteous living
for all living
they elevated the hopes curtailing their shrinking
humanity still had a chance
to survive
the relentless massacres
were to be stopped
the patterns formed little hearts
entwining the world into
a crusade against
violating the
freedom of expression
of mankind .
-Anju
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 3:03 AM UTC
You can hear the rain as it gathers
Soaked cosmopolitan soldiers in the gravel,
Complaining of urban trenchfoot.
Those stars on their hands, declarations of evil
Felt the roughed hands of homeless men
Asking, “where you gonna be next week?”
And other cherries of vagabond greetings
Of his situational pleasantries;
The kids couldn’t say:
Topics avoided are done so the loudest—
That old man who’s friends with the devil
Lying infirm, walking infirm, his only guests are strangers
I hear his didacticisms from long ago
Curtailing the copper snakes despite their promise of knowledge
Good or evil
Because life is too short to be more than just friends.
Everyone works at least one day on the jakes
At the desk at day’s end
At plaster fist on the rivers in tar
Where Rat-prophets have their
Schizoid visions peaking in fright
To a starlit bible-edge clatter and smash
Shaking and roiling, denimized
Words pinpointing you down
Assembly-lined out by the smirking madman
Capital, he says, capital, capital
Looking out on our heads graduated heads
Cap it all, cap them all,
Jagged and four-squared edge
Happy enough to dogpaddle in a maelstrom
Called Sallie Mae
And to forget ‘graduation’ means ‘to rise’
These ocean floors, dark and darkening.
Yet, his debt crushes him for lack of want,
Chicanery and shady deals
Mine’s a blessing, a burden of love;
The brochure is a better read—
Where am I going to be next week?
Recalling the difference
Between indebted and dead
Recalling the difference
Between a ton of feathers and that of lead.
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 1:01 PM UTC
So pointless, still starting sentences with
and as though I am curtailing from
previous profundity into present thought.
Silly, still. Finally I have found
inspiration in the smallest places,
skin-deep moments, echoes.
Mar 29, 2015
Mar 29, 2015 at 10:04 PM UTC
I remember the walks we took,
Smoking cigarettes and cursing the modern day.
I remember the Canary sands,
And how we fell into each other,
Our bodies still warm from the Sun.
I remember how your body tensed,
Each time you were caught in vulnerability.
I remember those ancient postcards you’d send:
“I miss you, I miss you, I miss you”
As the hours strained in your luxury.
I remember seeing your beauty from afar,
But curtailing my interest through circumstance.
I remember how you’d say to me
That all love was bunk,
Until you finally tasted what kindness could be.
I remember our intimacies;
Grown children planning world **********
Under the torch-lit covers.
I remember every story you ever told me,
And how all of your words have birthed mine.
I remember how the train took us away.
You stretched out on your empty bedsheets,
Whilst I tarried in the past.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
The world must be easy in your eyes.
Everything laid out, carefully planned.
Your dream is within your reach,
And nothing can deter it.
Unshaken, determined, strong -
You always laugh.
It must be easy in your eyes.
Suddenly, what is deemed impossible happens.
Now laugh, to belittle what just happened.
I can't fathom the depth you're exploring.
I am curtailing behind ...
For tears drop downwards - may they reach you.
You will one day know,
You are not alone.
Nov 22, 2015
Nov 22, 2015 at 8:32 PM UTC
No one's there—at the dark
skimpy place.
No one could notice how they
please as a mare.
Seeing her to death, and will act
with no predictable malice.
Perfectly cooking every organs—
a daze.
Laughing out loud like it's just
a dare.
Laughter and tears—they give
a gaze.
Echoing their voice—as you run—
you'll still be chased.
Don't walk in this mortala castle—
sombre.
For you're the next—to die—
to embrace.
In this recondite abstruse space—
Body's heat—lust—will be gaudier,
They'll protude lasciviousness. Die
or taste.
They'll interrupt your halcyon life—
your only ace—
When their attention was caught—
by you—they'll flare.
All you can do; run and haze.
As they're creating lethal discursive
piece—
Slitting you as a carcass in there.
Curtailing your journey as you pace.
You speak, you'll die—don't
be the ness.
Sep 16, 2019
Sep 16, 2019 at 2:28 AM UTC
they don't wish its Christmas every day
they cannot afford the liquors
that blunts their angsts and leaves them
in habitual ignorant stupor
whilst satiating their wounds and pains
and temporarily curtailing
their hysterical venting and dutiful frustrations
they sure do not wish its Christmas every day
without hate blaming and delinquencies
what else for mediocre to do
Dec 25, 2021
Dec 25, 2021 at 6:30 PM UTC