"decider" poems
*Then Peter came to Jesus and asked, “Lord, how many times shall
I forgive my brother or sister who sins against me? Up to seven times?”
Jesus answered, "I tell you, not seven times, but seventy-seven times."*
- Matthew the Apostle
I
Seventy-seven bottles of gin
lie in the guts of sensuous men;
seventy-seven I forgive you's dissolve
in a fanatical mind's resolve.
II
What offence occurred under Saint Constantine's priggish eye?
Was it specious as a Samian's thigh?
Or Sumerians receiving alien diplomats?
Maybe somewhere far under Moscow Putin's massing cloning vats...
III
Whatever discursive and belligerent milieu
church authority finds most tried and true
seems to be the most important decider
in the future of things like the Large Hadron Collider.
Perhaps, unfoundedly, they find it funny that Higgs
(though it seems much like calling the Liberal Party "Whigs")
is a name shared by a man and a theoretical particle
(though it be libelous in any journalist's article),
and thus label similar advancements as "blasphemous".
I guess that this is what it is: believing just because.
IV
Who can know blasphemy from piousness?
Maybe all Luther did was obfuscate a prior mess.
V
Seventy-seven palm-branch-adorned, donkey-riding kings:
an automatic-ring-making-machine beleaguering proselyte rings.
Sep 19, 2012
Sep 19, 2012 at 1:40 AM UTC
The age of letting time take its
own, slow course is gone, perhaps
For every hour is rush hour,
Every meal is a quick-bite,
That cup of coffee always instant,
Honking even before the signal goes
from yellow to green, the rule
The age of savouring the moment
to its delicious limit is gone, perhaps
For every flaw is now a breaking point,
Every argument cause for a split-up
Every mismatch provocateur of second thoughts
In the age of waiting being obsolete,
Patience becoming a virtue redundant,
The plain, small joys of life becoming insignificant,
The material replacing the abstract,
The direction of the swipe on a touchscreen
Becoming the decider of the fate of love stories,
I'll never find you, perhaps,
If this world continues to function
Like a real-life dating app
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 5:45 PM UTC
The
Decider-in-Chief
made
another
hard
decision,
rebebilitatin
a debilitating
Gaddafi.
The
Agog
Decider
sleekly
peeked
into the
bleak
soul
of the
master
Bedouin.
The
Pious
Decider
peered
pretty
deeply,
so its
hard to tell
what his
arcane
rebelations
revealed.
Some say
The
Jaundiced
Decider,
saw the
desert
bleeding
deliciously
malicious
sweet crude
onto the
scabby
tongues
of
Halliburton
Executives
while
Big Time
Vice
Dickey Boy
******
a petrol
nozzle
dry,
licking
the dripped
drops
that
drizzled
from the
shoot
hole,
so as
not to waste
a precious drop
to satiate
the black
viscous
goo
coursing
through
the ebony
veins of his
chingling
heart.
Others
say
The
Condoning
Decider
sized up
the man
and saw
a brother-in-arms
in the fight
against
The Evil Doers;
yet failed to
see the
revolting
obscenities
his new
comrade-in-arms
inflicted
upon his
own body
politic.
The
Forgetful
Decider,
blessed
with amnesia
forgot
Lockerbie and
applauded
BP's royal
court of
justice
for
pardoning
all perps.
The
Oblivious
Decider's
near
sightedness
failed to
foresee
a brewing
blow-back
amassing
in the
desert
winging
its way
home
on the
blasting
sands of
a blistering
Saharan
sirocco.
The
Pollyannish
Decider
envisioned
grand
spectacles,
only happy
visions of
Beyonce,
JZ, Usher
and the
Def Jam
Buddha
Russell
Simmons
yodeling
filthy
lucre
tunes,
sending
giggling
tweets
while
partying
down
with
Muammar's
posse
of martinets
and
way cool
far out
crazy
execs
drunk
with the
power
that blinds
the eye to
all discernment.
The Decider
decides.
Music Selection:
Lady Ga Ga
Beyonce,
Telephone
Oakland
3/3/11
jbm
Apr 12, 2013
Apr 12, 2013 at 8:11 PM UTC
You felt a Monster
when your Hamster Wolverine died
Did that almost turn your head to Sylvia Plath
Yet you are decidedly amongst the living
and should never pilgrim with Mannequins
When Life's bedevilled by doubt
can your wise friend find rhyme with you
perhaps to Scarborough and back again
on some weekend decider.
Oct 17, 2012
Oct 17, 2012 at 10:39 AM UTC
feeling the heat, i'm hiding from desire
i've spent many nights by that fire
i feel alive by the light of my pathfinder
all of the other fights are minor
i set the sights on a climb ever higher
it becomes my mind's flight decider
widening my heights by trying to be wiser
hoping for my eyes to open wider
Dec 14, 2016
Dec 14, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
APPLE BLOSSOM
This tiny fairy, let us say has attitude.
Most little things get on her pip!
Sitting amongst fragrant blossom
Is not nice, no pleasure trip.
She has to put up with frilly petals
Leaves and the odd red spider.
It is the constant supply of buds
That to her is the decider.
She would like to go and pray
With the other fairies at the chapel
Not sitting amongst blossom
Waiting for the inevitable apple.
But as with all other fairies
She has her work to do, her duty
To sit there all pink and frilly
Feeling fresh and very fruity.
She tirelessly waits, and she waits
For the blossom buds to flower.
Then it is another waiting game
For the apples to appear very sour.
She once considered jumping ship
And sitting with the Fairy of the Douglas fir
But after some serious and careful thought
Decided that it would not really appeal to her.
But she is happy I suppose
But still would like to alter direction
Is it little wonder then that this Fairy
Has such a rosy red complexion.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 10:33 AM UTC
This tiny fairy, let us say has attitude.
Most little things get on her pip!
Sitting amongst fragrant blossom
Is not nice, no pleasure trip.
She has to put up with frilly petals
Leaves and the odd red spider.
It is the constant supply of buds
That to her is the decider.
She would like to go and pray
With the other fairies at the chapel
Not sitting amongst blossom
Waiting for the inevitable apple.
But as with all other fairies
She has her work to do, her duty
To sit there all pink and frilly
Feeling fresh and very fruity.
She tirelessly waits, and she waits
For the blossom buds to flower.
Then it is another waiting game
For the apples to appear very sour.
She once considered jumping ship
And sitting with the Fairy of the Douglas fir
But after some serious and careful thought
Decided that it would not really appeal to her.
But she is happy I suppose
But still would like to alter direction
Is it little wonder then that this Fairy
Has such a rosy red complexion.
Jun 24, 2013
Jun 24, 2013 at 8:23 AM UTC
From birth children are told that love is bowing before an almighty god.
Bowing before their parents, priests, and teachers. Instilled with fear
of going to a fiery hell unless they believe what is laid out before them.
Is it a wonder how our world has turned out?
Tell me a truth I cannot challenge. Can you do it?
Well, with me, no. I will question and challenge everything.
It is with my curiosity that I take in the beauty of life, it is with this
curiosity that my perception changes from a fearful child to
an empowered, hopeful, and critical thinking adult.
I have not turned to science, but is more solace found there?
Scientists are not looked upon with fear the way gods are.
Scientists tell us of the enormity of the universe, how we connect
to it and are already a part of it. Instead of handing us impending
apocalypses, it hands us a galaxy that can support life for 30 billion more years.
So why not turn to science?
Because, once science told us the earth was flat.
Challenge your world.
Never stop asking questions.
Take not religion as your decider.
Take not science as your crutch.
Sit in silence and use what you find
within yourself to judge and perceive
this life. Here you will find freedom.
Here you will find personal truth.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 2:28 AM UTC
What can a man do, helpless as we are hopeless, believe it or not, the only truth about human existance is that; both the rich, the poor, the wise, the foolish, the good, the evil, we are all slaves to destiny, no matter how we try to change it, deny it, fact is; it is the end of it all, we live at the mercy of destiny, though destiny can not be dissapointed as for man live and die, so will you and i; destiny is the ultimate decider of a man's reality, never have i stood aside when man rise and fight their battles, watch man suffer and die at the hands of destiny, then i knew that if we are really slaves of destiny, we must not always slave in tears and hardship, we can atleast slave in dignity and comfort
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 9:47 AM UTC
hello 4am,
we meet again..
but do you have to be so rasping?
drowning in my thoughts,
they want me to give in..
im nazlanmak.
mono no aware
reminding me of my Erlebnisse.
am i lonely or in love?
which one is worse?
i am an enternitarian.
i help me to live another day,
so 4am you will not be the decider of my fate.
i am druxy, indeed..
but do you have to rub it in?
will we ever get along?
are you interested?
4am you are franching at my soul,
eating at my being
& i can never be of eunoia
.. because of you
Feb 13, 2015
Feb 13, 2015 at 4:33 AM UTC
Time is a watery reflection of the universe
give it to me straight and drink with me
hold my hand and walk with me
into the steel-toed footsteps of society
my heart's supposed captor
the director of minds
the decider of dreams
and the definer of happiness
who lead your eyes to my soul's window
and allowed you to see so clearly
what I desire?
was it I myself
when i let slip
through trembling lips
all that was left of what I was
when the light threatened to expire
with words that shook the stones beneath our feet
with iron tones the empty street
with my word rings
and like the footsteps of ancient kings
can be heard for miles
echoed by the voices that dared to speak them again
my words find their rhythm
they don't need me
I'm part of a chain of speakers
as long as the hands of humanity
reach back
and longer still
as heavy as the rain that beats
growing stronger
i speak to that beat
the beat that breathes
the beat that lives
the beat that leaves
traces in our blood
like tracks on a road well-travelled
like a river after a flood
like poets of old I cling to the grass
and speculate on its origins
wishing for a moment to hear the voices
long silenced beneath its feathered stalks
I read immortal words
etched on paper as if on bone
they inspire words like the desert sun inspires thirst
no longer a passing interest
but a necessity
a sonic perscription
I watch those used phrases like clouds
forever morphing themselves into new shapes
born again to the imagination
the waters of diversity rise
bursting through the floodgates of human limitation
I put my stamp on an unsealed letter
and send it in desperation to the earth
I don't know you-
I don't know you.
but allow me to be for a moment
the page that catches your falling words
as you shed them to grow your soul anew
and i might know a piece of you
and take it as my own
I'll add my name to the list of people
who look at the night sky
and in uncertainty find themselves not alienated
but surrounded
and think their eyes too weak
or their souls too young
too see that which
in undue haste
to surpass the insurmountable
has gone to waste
and left us spinning
trying to shove meaning
into the hours during which we cannot see the sun.
Jan 27, 2012
Jan 27, 2012 at 6:57 PM UTC
The funniest
mystery
the oldest of all
creation
the one at his
call all trembles
the decider of all
that exist
the one who
rule out kings,
queens,princes
and princesses
and set another
at his delight
who can
question him?
who can bribe
him?
who can seek
his face for
favour?
The one who
give pain and
pleasure is
forgotten.
It has not regard
for small nor
great,rich nor
poor.
Final is its
decision.
It passes as a
tale thats told
yet it be the
strongest of all
realities,precious
is it time.
Life the funniest
mystery
the oldest of all
creation.
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 10:07 AM UTC
As the crow flies south from capital city
With soaring moonshine he coasts into synchronicity
Highways below dissolve into forgotten whispers
Like a rear view mirror sees only memories in its disappearing
Visual ****** initiates and fills this polychromatic cruise
Starting with a quiet historic ruse
Contesting over which of the two
echo shadows for optical repeal
the many leaves of kaleidoscope hues
That keep a running legacy since time before our time
and / or
Buried horizon from endless layers of skyward hills
Hills that have been storing a primitive foundation for the growing of substructure foliage in order to be able to drop its petals and leaves
Resolve is left with the one true and unbiased impartial decider...
the wind
to form a fair measure of mediation
From the human view
All are merely a preview for the impromptu quest
In an attempt to catalyze foreshadow and paint memory for the drive out west
To approach from afar
The destination appears to be a resting
shape of an antiquated location
splashed with opaque aromas,
sensory weaving visuals,
and
Melodic tones of nostalgic definition
Emitting vibrations of soothing tremolo that quiver throughout the body
this multi-strip string of singular select shops
Is the alignment initiative in the countryside
forecasting a manifest
for the hazy occasion
Anointing inspiration over the heartland’s artland
That nearly only hope,
could create
Invisible snows sprinkle over roads like a magic red carpet of threaded tranquility in its coat
Enticing, Welcoming, and Lighting up this neck of the west
And opening into the
Woodland Hills of Little Nashville
———-—————————————-——————————
Oct 3, 2019
Oct 3, 2019 at 6:10 PM UTC
this is the city of faith,
the city of doubt,
discipline overrated,
tough will is decisive,
the decider, the dictator,
in the grey, hazy morning,
try your best to make it,
celebrate all the symbols,
conceding mimicking rats,
satisfy the prowling big cats,
pick whatever that is left
in your accustomed route,
and push through it
till the death of the sun
in each of your weary runs.
all hail the lost souls,
see you in the city hall
at the end of the day.
Feb 14, 2019
Feb 14, 2019 at 8:07 PM UTC
I am not scared of leaves
the ground will be littered
but the chill
i fear
the wind of change
the coming months carry
i fear the next season
of life and love
loss and new beginnings
departures from what i know
what i find comforting
faces i find familiar
love that is easy
warmth
that i will try and recreate
in a future i find bitter
i resist change
i continue to forget all that is coming
all i must accept
i live now
as present as i can be
i pretend i control my life
that i am the ultimate decider of my fate
but
when i close my eyes
settle between the sheets
so warm
familiar
i am wrenched from my reverie
the nest i have made in my covers
is only sheets and blankets
nothing can protect me from the coming time
so i will sit and wait
decidedly oblivious to tomorrow
focused on today
the life of the minutes ahead
watching them expire
and turn into the hours i dread
i will learn not to fight it
acceptance is a calm visage
Oct 16, 2012
Oct 16, 2012 at 12:19 PM UTC
Persuaded by wonton doubt
While wanting to live again
Inebreation, a deadly device
Sure I can sit in solitude
But only in the past...
It is gone like betrayed comradyery
How it was so indigenous to my species
But now is so lost upon different faces
Tonight my friend said
How come the weirdest things
Happen to you ?
It made me more sad
How it was a question
But yet one without an answer
Except
Me
My brains not scattered on the wall
Just because im special.
And i have friends
How selfish right?
Oh well i guess we all have a right to live
God given? Sure. Right to the pursuit of happiness?
I persistantly sure as ****
Hope to god thats true
Oh well
All is biding in due time
Will happiness come from pen strokes?
Or the stamping of pitter pattering letters?
All I knows is that it will come from my hands
Even tho the only way i relieve tension
From soul and body
Is by screaming or singing out the hole
In the front my peripherals? Hobby?
Maybe
Calling of an egotistical standing
Singing for myself feels more becoming
Sea ore,
I am vain and think I am an omnificent
Creator
Of my own happiness
Decider of my own destiny
Defeat
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 6:07 AM UTC
Back then the radical were few and far in between
Now there’s one no more then ten cracks from every corner
The bar has been lowered,
Exponentially,
On what amazes.
The words we use have been weakened
By the weekend.
Oh it is a beautiful thing, if used correctly.
Linguistics mixed with hedonistic freedom
Never to forget the balance of fantasy and intellect
Theories and Fairy tales
Fables and Ideals
All the while in the throes of mystical madness
Have a bit of genius if you’d please,
Don’t mind the psychosis, It’s just a..
Seasonal Drag
“You’ve always got to find something to conflict with
And something to coexist with”
Said the human mind
The ever rumbling sense maker
The creator and taker of breath and chance
The Feeling factory in which we’re all constantly
Clocking In at.
The Decider.
The world within us so expansive one must toe the line or
Forget there is any outside world at all.
No one can explain it all
But we must take part in it!
Even if that means for us to
Pick apart the parts in it
A Piece of me, A Piece of you
Is peace in us and I conclude
That neither I or you
Are obstacles, we’re one
We’re earth,
we’re truth.
Namaste.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 12:37 AM UTC
The human mind.
That ***** that accepts and discriminate so willingly.
While the lord God sits spiritually and watches everything.
Oh, he has those talkers that speaks his laws according to theirs perspective.
Similar to things, we states, when others disagree with us about matters.
But in heaven.
Yes, in heaven, it's about acceptance.
No segregated slot.
No segregated plots.
There you learn to adapt.
Then only a few receives invitations.
Yes, in heaven, we can't dictate.
Yes, in heaven, we can't say this what God want?
He's the decider.
The selector.
In this serenity place of tranquility that we seek to enjoy.
You must accept that God only requires you to have shown love.
Aug 9, 2015
Aug 9, 2015 at 9:35 AM UTC
Echoes of yesterday
Where do they end?
Upon the elf on the shelf
Santa has passed
Forsaken my abode
The inner being of my soul
He is the sole provider
My decider
Triumphant tyrant of woe
Must he be my foe?
Glowing with reassurance
Of the personification of hate
I'm a good boy
How about a treat?
It has to be just for me
To eat
Forcibly scarf down
My bitter hole
Santa will want
Me to rake
His' yard
But I will refuse
The suddenly offered abuse
From a passing sore of lore
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
Truth shall ever be contained in the mind
The decider, debater of life
Collaborating with the body's output
Allowing the face with lies and truth to bind.
But power is described among some
To deceive the ****** risks,
Extirpating all traces of truth to find.
Dec 28, 2012
Dec 28, 2012 at 12:29 AM UTC
the miles are wide
wider than my mind can imagine
different sands between your toes
same sky as your hat
when you sleep
i wake,
when you walk the streets
i warm my sheets
not too long
you will be away
not too long
will i be alone
but how does it seem
somehow
that this time
this distance
is drawing a line in the sand
of lover or friend
is to be cast in stone
forever
how will you see me?
when you feet touch home?
how wil your heart feel?
when you inhale me?
absence
maybe
a decider
maybe
a destroyer
sometimes
you feel close
and i think that i know you
but i dont
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 5:10 AM UTC
“Once more unto the breach,” echoes from within.
Cast away your anxious thoughts, don’t let negativity breed within your skin
Only positivity from here on out, a new strategy for an old plan
You are the decider of your future, you are the eye of the beholder, will this break you or make you?
Only you will tell, though you are a quiet soul
Soak up the rays of the sun
Let the light fuel you in the hardest times
Remember what it feels like
For you are the quiet warrior, blood of your demons stains your sword
A savage for the good of all
Ghosts of the past invade gentle nightfall
Remember how you conquered, never faltered, and smile
The past can only persuade you to try harder, your demons are only your fodder
“Once more unto the breach, dear friends, once more,” gently slips through your lips
Your next war draws nigh; Blood drips from fingertips
Aug 26, 2018
Aug 26, 2018 at 4:40 AM UTC
the way it looks is the crook
how it will appear
and who wiill they smear
immersed in the appearance of it all
while origin and substance falls
what will they say
and who will pay
what rule will it served
you dont care, you got some nerve
what category is filled
and now the heart is nil
how does it look, what will they say
I am me and thats the only way
let the chips fall as they may
I love me and thats what I got to say
Stare if you will-i care not what I serve
I choose the me category, the me watcher, the me approver,
The me decider
Aug 4, 2012
Aug 4, 2012 at 12:13 PM UTC