"delegated" poems
My world is not of the written word
It cannot be numbered
held captive on a so called page
My world is liquid
as sea , rain , snow or ice
It can be hot , cold , or entice
My world is cloudy
It thunders after it flashes light
My world is wrong , my world is right
There are no words that bind my life
I won't be delegated
to exist in the black on white
I will not be staved
by the limited sways
of the written words upon the page
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 6:58 AM UTC
Hypotonic collusions
Rising in osmotic lesions
An eruptive soul reversion
Emissions of embered logs
Each lightening with a glow
A youthful straw of clemency
Pollinated sandals, handled
Gripping the flesh in vessels
Houses of lost and unreal dreams
Vicarage gardens of suppression
Masticated in delegated abstractions
A surmise of death and redistributions
Each a beat rise, slide on frosty ice
Un-enveloped in seasons of erosion
Delusional commotions sprawled
In the dance of the ecstatic programming
The body waved and led in hypnosis
********** with the intangible essence
To make sense a revised tense,I fence
Straying in lenient lunacy to fields afar
A merry to ferry the phoenix dance
Rattles shaking in transit translations
Drums pause settling in finesse pond
A coitus of dimensional valour and vice
Feb 25, 2016
Feb 25, 2016 at 9:37 AM UTC
**Back stabbing ******
The lines have been crossed
Remove the knife**
*Delegated waters
Empty hearted man
Passing mucky tides*
**Shutting me out
Resenting me, Friend
Closing the airwaves**
*Driving away mad
Behind I stand
Left to wonder why*
**What had happened
Losing the contact
Misunderstood**
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 7:31 AM UTC
You cain't go back
to yesterday's dawn
by adding another verse
to an old song
When time was by my side
we galloped through the years
Now the time shows and slows
and disappears
"Where has time flown ?"
is but an insult to youthful plea
protagonist to the old
and just echoes in me
While love was delegated ,
regulated , copulated . . .
it became sedimentated ,
heated , then pressurized
It became cold marble
entombed in ways
that now are just
memorried
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 10:21 PM UTC
I heard a whisper.
a thought like dust
caught the air of my breath
and landed on every heartbeat still beating for something more than themselves.
a rationale.
a stable refuge.
these are the things I imbue.
nocturnal nonsense swirled about
until your gaze caught my thoughts.
I saw your eyes behind mine.
emancipated, delegated, underrated and unillustrated,
how can I better express myself.
I lost myself trying to lose you.
I carried the weight of the world on my shoulders
to your front door step and left it with a key.
Walk a mile in my shoes and still ask me who's the enemy.
I am.
I am my own downfall.
masquerades never suited me
yet I still wore it with agony.
Antagonized from every side,
the lies lie far between you and I.
I succeeded in forgetting something that never happened
and got trapped inside those angel eyes.
remain a nuisance, my misguided matrimony.
gravity awaits,
for we are all destined to fall.
Nov 30, 2013
Nov 30, 2013 at 5:57 AM UTC
In God's breath he waits,
the candle dimming as the
clock ticks and hours are slate,
his heart's echoes losing the war
As his hands bridge the abyss
of his fate while his mind
catches faith's miss;
fortune has a length to climb
With the strength of string
and no true grip
or able grasp to ring
the tower bell of Heaven's kinship-
And to his back tied this pail,
of needed pride sinking him
to the depths of Jonah's whale,
unable to release the whim
Of something delegated to sin;
the inability to call to the power
and make true his acceptance of Him,
even as the shadows of his final hour
Creep upon his flesh-worn frame,
burdened with the punnet of age,
no fruit able to let him know youth's flame
nor his frailty an answer to sage
Wisdom that has been boast
to descend upon those of change,
with answers that are host
to those within death's range.
Sep 20, 2012
Sep 20, 2012 at 1:33 PM UTC
Read the words upon the page
Depicting how was such an age
That, then, ensconced in everyday
In truth, permitted Hell to play.
Where age with all it's wisdom gleaned
Should logically be rightly seen
As guidance for emerging youth
Where past mistakes impart as truth.
Though tragically, bereft as seen,
The actuality now doth scream
For youth doth relegate to grass
Aged wisdom's pearls.... as shattered glass.
Dispersed amid the flotsam tide
Lies that which salves salvation's hide,
Lies that which wreaks of God's works, twist,
Dispersed through cold, Alzheimer mist.
The waste of ancient eyes at rest
Expelled, devoid of life, at best
But should a crisis start to burn
Old minds may co-opt young to learn?
History makes the paradigm
That thumps the lesson home, with time,
In squandering the wealth of age
We burn the story, tear the page.
Now delegated to the shelf
Immersed in indignation's self
Old wallow in blue pity's taint
Inhibited by self restraint.
But then the moment comes around
When happenstance, by chance compound,
When youth, of clear complexioned face,
May stumble into mute disgrace....
Thence whilst the Angel trumpets grace
Whence in that vacant, silenced space,
Then flows of wisdom tumble thine
From lips that spake in ancient time.
Knowledge held in Holy Grail
Empirically forth then, when regaled,
As pomp and circumstance decreed
Should all, combined then, .... be agreed?
M.
9th December 2022
Foxglove@Taranaki,NZ.
Dec 8, 2022
Dec 8, 2022 at 10:20 PM UTC
I feel like Paul Revere riding up to you with a message to convey
Overcame my initial fear, but it"s Such a tricky catch twenty two
But you see if you adhere and actually listen to what I have to say
Because I had your ear, means I probably don't want a girl like you
I"m still not in the clear, I"m most likely really ******* either way
Focused on your career, I know, but try to see from my point of view
Imagine that you appear at your job but they actually make you pay
That's our plight my dear, so I ask you what"s a guy supposed to do?
Smack me on my back and beat on life's ironic Co Nun Drum
Then hand me a plaque that says "my platonic friend & Chum"
Relegated to the friend zone you"re now stuck in a paradox
Delegated to a just a drone you"ll never get in pandora"s box
Funny how there"s barely any difference between stalking and persistence
All depends upon metaphorical distance, who"s walking and her resistance
Helplessly I disagree with your inability to see past this stigma
Destiny must ironically be your enemy as you remain an enigma
So perhaps you"re just not currently accepting applications
But instead of just going through the typical motions
I attempted to help you understand many men"s translations
Because as far as I know there isn't any love potions
So many dreams lost before they tendered their resignations
But hopefully you can now see some of these notions
Nirvana and Utopia it could be, but here lies only aspirations
Buried beside his best friend, Rest in peace emotions
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 9:46 PM UTC
I find it hilarious, being arrested in thought.
The emergence of being free.
Voluntarily considering the thought of worry.
Without need for appetite, things broken down given in ration.
This apparatus that things are well and dandy but in reality they are not.
This uncomfortable silence in a lack of distraction.
Not at all considering you an hindrance.
But there looms a sudden fear.
This compulsive habit that leads to addiction.
Standing still, blank look.
Charges brought forth in misdemeanor.
Lost in one paper stack or another.
Worried of this never ending cycle of what to do, what to think.
Devoted to this vivid image I have of you stuck in my head.
Yet, I don't know a single thing about you.
A force of habit, experiencing a part of myself that I've never quite experienced.
This need to run away from myself
And escape further into you.
The lock and key of this caged feeling.
Completely gone.
That one crack in the wall that reveals the smallest spec of sun merely peeking through.
Depending on someone else to unlock that bolted door. A sound not easily forgotten.
This senseless control that cages us up, delegated in authority without act of trust.
I find it hilarious because we are lost in identity.
you've released me yet, you have no idea who I am.
That one spec of sun that crept through a crack in the wall.
By traditional standard this is quite absurd.
Revealing to a beautiful stranger that she was in fact, the total embodiment of what's retained in the Stonehenge,
Knowledge.
Jun 12, 2016
Jun 12, 2016 at 8:35 PM UTC
came from hell
though it was not from
the BIG guy himself, my case
was delegated to some lesser imp
all along, hell, I thought
I had committed enough scorching
sins to warrant an audience
with the king of fire
when the phone rang
I did not pick up,
I knew who was calling
I had no hunger, people came
and went, mouths moving
but making no sound
my breathing slowed until
the air became glue, oozing in quietly
the lady in white came, touching me
moving as slowly as the moon’s
cold arc across the sky
she had no face
I knew the phone would ring anon
I knew there would be questions
whose answers they already knew
when you were five,
did you crush the robin eggs
on a beautiful blue afternoon
that would have been perfect for all mankind
had it not been for your ******
did you taste the sweet nectar of nakedness
of those you did not love
did you shove the bayonet in
though you saw his imploring eyes
did
you
leave the world
a
better
place?
questions do have answers
but answers have nothing
I will not answer yet
though I know the phone will ring anon
waking me from this dreary dream
and closing my eyes before
they return to the fire
Nov 10, 2013
Nov 10, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
We grew the earth, grew it around us and grew into it.
We grew into pairs of shoes after pairs of shoes
and we grew into our names.
We learnt to tie the laces of our shoes
and to tie our tongues around our names,
and the names of other things, other people,
and around other people's tongues.
We planted our cultures, cultivated them,
and they blossomed into traditions
and stereotypes and generalisations and rituals.
We broke in our shoes, broke the ice,
broke our voices, broke promises.
We broke glasses, hearts and bones.
We built hierarchies, looked up, looked down, bowed down.
We broke down into dictatorships and demonstration.
We found solutions like democracy
and diplomas and delegated.
We fixed fountains and freight trains
and falling trees in the forest and faucets that leaked.
We formed partnerships, made promises,
pledged to parties for both politics and both parents.
We made marriage and then we annulled, we divorced.
We fabricated the faiths that we fed on.
We invented stopwatches, reality television,
pedicures, lampshades, philosophy,
greenhouses, dictionaries, exclusivity,
feng shui, hand-holding, ****** medication,
street art, lawsuits, lingerie, car boot sales,
snow days, karaoke, comics, psychics,
boarding schools, toast, baseball, psychiatry,
bird-watching, plaid, research, stag nights,
slasher movies, salads, and interventions.
We wanted and we wished and we waited
and we wanted for more.
We were growing faster than we invented.
We were outgrowing ourselves
and our earth
and our shoes
and our names.
We forgot what we had found and fixed and formed.
We broke down and went broke.
We are waiting to invent a new way we can fix ourselves.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 8:43 AM UTC
sweet dreams to the dismal things
on the shores of an apocalypse
perhaps we are day-dreaming
breathing in these noxious fumes
consuming our own impermanance
is it ignorance of law
or the lure of the commons
that has doomed you
to inhaling all this perfume
threads of light scintillate the moon
an uncommon fuse
forged between your heart and the sun
so come dance and drift
in between rifts of space and time
that melancholy face
oh how i’d love to hold it in my hands
and stand up against you
i never stopped to over-stand you
don't think about it just let it out
before it consumes you
as fast as a spray from a humpback whale
the powers are receding
and we are needing to refill our cups
brunt and blunt like coconuts
what a stunt you pulled
how did you know
that they'd let you get away with it
its phenomenal the mood you instigated
a repatriation of the delegated fields
free of spite and allocated yields
until we became two foolish flowers
that now must die
in order to perpetually bloom
Oct 10, 2018
Oct 10, 2018 at 5:06 PM UTC
I walk the line
One that is mine;
Made of my own bundles of time withered twine
Sick as sorrow
Ill I fear
Will become tomorrow;
I feel it near
As it gets louder
The sound I hear..
For I am bait, it states
Telling me of my fate
Self-delegated
Intra-personal, between
Me myself & I, loud & clear
A heated drum
Banging words that go ***
Bitter shame
Brighter shun
I can not change what all I've wrong
I can not help who I have become
Perhaps I have come too far undone
Outdone
I'm spun
Anyone??
The sun above
My feelings below
I think too much
I think
I think about my head hitting a pillow
Muffling the sounds my heart yearns to wallow
When ever I think of all I've done & said,
Of all I'm ashamed of
My hands are sure to be holding my head up..
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 2:15 AM UTC
It may be that all
that some are delegated
is tragic ambition.
And it may be that a
mercantile exchange system
shouldn't be the arbiter
of who lives
and who dies.
And it may be that you
and I have noticed
diminishing returns
on all our investments
in Someday.
And it may be that things
continue to happen to my body
that I wasn't planning
to have happen.
And it may be that Time
has only small plans
for us:
that we are ants carrying our green burdens
skyward
endlessly,
up that precarious
impassive
furrowed
murderous
tree.
Sep 1, 2016
Sep 1, 2016 at 3:38 AM UTC
Am I more than just bones and blood and skin?
A device of wires and cell-ements?
A jester’s motley plucked from some King’s bin?
Or bolts and gears, a cluster of junk
Divinely tossed together
From what? The dump’s tickle-trunk?
Nay, better yet: pearls for eyes
And a mass of sinew’ed sand
Torn-roots for legs, Venus fly-traps for hands?
All oversimplifications for this, my assigned vehicle
Assembled in such a way, inexplicably strategical
This drawn by these dextrous digits
Deftly delegated by this complex cerebral contraption
Which egotistically instigated this imaginative introspection
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 10:59 AM UTC
Water winding upwards towards the clouds
Leaves flowing with the winds distance.
She powers over the mind, body, and soul.
Delegated by how much she wants, she doesn’t over look the consequences.
Provided the children with the ordered plans
Time here doesn’t matter.
Because this place is beyond us
Feb 1, 2010
Feb 1, 2010 at 7:41 AM UTC
Shed from the earth,
Searching for a greater dividing factor of
Soliloquies between diligent rapture
Understood, expectations, relinquish, your citations
Benevolent destruction, and omniscient revelations
Calamity, onto infamy, delegated, by a single floating leaf
Entropy without linear symmetry, involves, nothing but bigotry
For go selective, simplicity, underestimating the unknown, killing spree
Damnation, to call upon humanity, sad to say, to end is such a way
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 11:33 AM UTC
part of the issue is that people spend so much time
trying to quantify paradise;
trying to delineate
what exactly it would look like,
and what the air would taste like.
that’s not necessarily plausible.
the imaginations of men
are acquiescent to their
experiences.
as a species,
we form opinions based on
societal designs that stress a need
for instant judgement.
we’re contained in
an age of information and instance;
an age that has rendered
deliberation
and reflection archaisms --
tasks delegated to philosophers
and poets
and writers for literary magazines,
and other ‘nonessential’ social functions.
“nonessential” because of a permanent,
entirely pervasive air
of cynicality
and ignorance
that has descended upon us
as a species.
I digress;
people decide
what they delight in, and
what they detest;
what they revere, or
what they repudiate,
based on quick decisions
and first impressions.
this is paradise
and there is nothing else to see
don’t
you
think
you’ve
seen it all?
Mar 19, 2013
Mar 19, 2013 at 11:14 PM UTC
You loudly speak as a mouth for hire,
Your eyes look but a proxy of alien vision
You ears hear as delegated organs
Your wholesome body is a satellite machine
Commercially angled for foul prosperity
Going in contrast to the holy covenant
With the Poor folks of your forlorn land,
Can’t you realize one time in future
That satellite organs shift in effect
With the shifting balance of the global fortunes,
It is only the voice of gender and the weakly voiceless
That suffers no withdrawl, it comes from eternity
And it will echo persistence beyond the confines
Of the satellite mouth in the poor world
That has destine in the horizon of money
Moral manipulation in contrast to fortitude.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 7:34 AM UTC
Petrichor fills my senses , the western hemisphere receives the miracle of Dawn , magnificent palate of morning revealed in first light , punctual feast delegated amongst the plant world of the Americas ..Pull of the tide , the Moon coupled with mystery , disappearance , Sister Venus with nocturnal creatures of the forest relocate their private dwellings with the new day ! Warm , cool air confluence , Western cloud banks foretell Natures ambivalence ! Steadfast purveyor of the rambunctious , ever changing Earth !
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 8:51 AM UTC
It is amazing
This feeling worth sharing
It is death
It is carbon breathe
It is what compels
It is what propels
Pushing forward
That gust toward
A new direction
To allow correction
Of an overflowing
Dam of indigestion
Improperly taking waste
Turning it to paste
Sticking you with the bill
All you do is the ill
Resentment of frivolous class
Actions to pass
Judgment on to the kids
When all together we'll rid
These fleas to a new host
So celebrate and toast
The new spoils delegated
To the air that evaporated
Jun 4, 2010
Jun 4, 2010 at 4:04 PM UTC
Without knowing his fate
he journeyed across states
hoping that change will give him a taste
of his unwinding belief and faith.
Everyday happens to be him making hays
getting ready to accomplish in many ways
that one thing that kept him going
though the tides are low
but he believes that one day he will be at the top looking below
"Sit back and enjoy the ride"
has been the words he affirms with pride
knowing that he got someone on his side.
Challenges appears to be his speed bumps
getting discouraged to quit by people who are dumb
to understand that this journey of his
is not a competition nor delegated for trophies.
He recalled the story of the Isrealites crossing the divided sea
a journey to get to a promise land they foresee
giving him the motivation to withstand
even when no one ever seems to understand.
Love and happiness is what he hopes to find
as he lives in the beehive of his mind
fantasizing how beautiful it will be.
Jul 25, 2014
Jul 25, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
Let’s sit under this tree
Just you and me
And see what we can
From this piece of land.
Let’s see what is natural
And something others call
Contrived, manufactured
In their pricey lectures
To sell books and CDs
To clueless entities
Sitting on their couch
Ready to loudly grouch
About how poorly they are used
How they are abused
By the way others live;
Always have an opinion to give
Of what others should do
People like me and you
To whom they’re not related
But somehow got delegated
To a pool of the ******
Who they want to see crammed
Into flaming tour buses to hell
When Gabriel’s horn swells
And Jesus himself decides
Where the line divides
Those worthy to be saved
And those others who were brave
And tell the rest to adhere
To the line dividing queers
And the unbaptized sinners
From the rest of the winners
Who once read The Bible.
The rest are held liable
And will be sent to perdition
Due to their position
On The True Religion
Based on ancient renditions
Of fables and fairy tales
Of water wine and hungry whales.
There will be many Arabs in hell
And these folks know **** well
There will be no Mormons going
No Jewish representation showing,
Just good old fashioned Baptists
And maybe a few of the Papists
Certainly not that many
Maybe not any.
As I said, let’s sit and see
What happens to you and me
While we wait patiently
And see in the meantime
How many faithful commit crime
And intolerance in the name of God.
It should be pretty odd.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 9:54 PM UTC