"deploring" poems
Emerging from the darkness,
Your face is encircled with stars of Orion.
Fog surrounding your silhouette.
Overwhelming force field separating
My aura from yours.
Walk a fine street of plated gold,
Deploring plastic cores,
and camera stores.
Flying fast,
Screaming at the past.
Back down from the galaxy.
I scream with ecstasy;
"I am Shakespearean!
I am Freudian!"
You are Napolean,
King Henry and Led Zeppelin!"
Crash, smash, crack myself open.
Electromagnetic magnetism.
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 11:10 PM UTC
The walls close in slowly, as the light begins to fade
No more youthful smiles, the days only masked with grey
And yet the world keeps turning
People rushing on by
Filling their days with worry,
a tear drop wets my eye.
Can you feel the hunger burning,
your stomach turns to rot
As all are born must stop breathing, eventually an afterthought.
Can you see the light upon the hill for which we all aspire?
Tis the goal of justice, held in the arms of another.
Who is it that holds the key to swing open heaven’s gate
?
Can we obtain succor, to save us from this state?
Socrates says it is the philosopher king;
But even kings are mortal captains
And their love of knowledge
cannot stop them from unjust folly
How does one find the answer to what is the moral law of God?
Does it uplift the personality, or curse it free from thought?
Better yet, what is your **** worth?
Would you lay down your life a martyr
to bury your brother beneath the dirt?
Left in a world so full of imperfection, we take refuge in the days advances
Television, computers, ipods, and Wiis, lose your self in trivial things.
This distraction gives those in power all that they can want,
For if good men cannot engage and stop the warring
There is nothing to halt man’s wayward plot.
Sin is separation; there is no us and them.
That is your ego and your thought deploring
A mind bereft of ken.
Open up your Eye young child, become the all-seeing Zen
Only then Justice will not matter,
For Justice will be in all of us again.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 10:08 PM UTC
When I hear you express an affection so warm,
Ne’er think, my belov’d, that I do not believe;
For your lip would the soul of suspicion disarm,
And your eye beams a ray which can never deceive.
Yet still, this fond ***** regrets, while adoring,
That love, like the leaf, must fall into the sear,
That Age will come on, when Remembrance, deploring,
Contemplates the scenes of her youth, with a tear;
That the time must arrive, when, no longer retaining
Their auburn, those locks must wave thin to the breeze,
When a few silver hairs of those tresses remaining,
Prove nature a prey to decay and disease.
Tis this, my belov’d, which spreads gloom o’er my features,
Though I ne’er shall presume to arraign the decree
Which God has proclaim’d as the fate of his creatures,
In the death which one day will deprive you of me.
Mistake not, sweet sceptic, the cause of emotion,
No doubt can the mind of your lover invade;
He worships each look with such faithful devotion,
A smile can enchant, or a tear can dissuade.
But as death, my belov’d, soon or late shall o’ertake us,
And our ******* which alive with such sympathy glow,
Will sleep in the grave, till the blast shall awake us,
When calling the dead, in Earth’s ***** laid low.
Oh! then let us drain, while we may, draughts of pleasure,
Which from passion, like ours, must unceasingly flow;
Let us pass round the cup of Love’s bliss in full measure,
And quaff the contents as our nectar below.
1.7k
Yesterday was serene n playful,
But today it’s just about stress..
Yesterday was about a joy ful laughter on our chubby faces,
But today it’s about babbling all day..
Yesterday our ambition was to win every game next door,
But today it’s about loosing everything just to get the right one..
Yesterday every work was fearless n freaky ,
But today it's jittery behaviour for any n every work..
Yesterday it was a habit to be scoffed n loved together,
But today even a harsh word peers away in our heart n love is overseen..
Yesterday every moment was like having repose,
But today it's just about having bubble reputation at any cost..
Yesterday was about spending all day on our dad’s shoulder n mum’s lap,
But today it's just ’our’ room, ‘our’ bed, n ‘our’ lives..
Yesterday changes were cherished as souvenir of childhood,
But today few changes have actually changed us..
But in a deploring way….
Nov 19, 2012
Nov 19, 2012 at 8:47 AM UTC
“never lament casually”
Leonard Cohen
*the serious are plenty burdensome,
so if the flight delayed, or the device batteries,
moments away from recognizing that
0% is still a viable digit with a special meaning,
these, none deserving of deploring the human condition
but the weight of leaving her in cold Montreal,
while old promises made, demand a presence in L.A.,
freezey veins, icy cracking inspiration attempts in vain,
all the unrecognizable for crying out loud verses on a
cocktail napkin scribbled, watching ink letters wet melting
your wants simplest, fireplace warmth snap cackling
pop love songs verses for her, the sheets of her dark skin,
silken on your tongue, the wetness of her Oh’s,
left a connect-the-dots map from your nose to toes,
but her fingertip markers, now a thousand miles away,
busy throwing up to the sky, hands filled with leaves of
crisp falling colors assortment, only the colorless no’s left
they play a tune you wrote years ago on the lounge speakers,
modified, wordless, so it’s innocuous, background harmless,
this axes paper cuts on your private places where the songs get
birthed, and now your whole package is tonnage measurable,
the lamentations serious, serious constellations, etching a new song*
*<>
“for the relearning is the crown jew-el,
that jesters rob from their kingly masters,
pride in love is the fall season preceding
Canadian winters, always thinking
you know better, be better at keeping warm,
this time which is the next time
you cannot learn from love,
cause it’s twice, two times,
never the same,
past lessons ain’t no prologue,
the body is maybe in the wafers,
sometimes vanilla,
sometimes chocolate
and the epilogue is
100% of the poem~songs
that I loved writing
and hate remembering*”
Sep 10, 2019
Sep 10, 2019 at 3:03 PM UTC
a speck on a train of evergrowing thought,
i simply exist in your periphery
deploring each opportunity unsought
trying to wash myself clean of your mem’ry
you are certainly a skilled navigator
you make your way into every part of me
the earth was a kaleidoscope of colour
now it’s achromatic–you are all i see
my desires remain to me inchoate
whether aspiration or admiration
to be like you or be with you: the debate
either of which a mode of self-destruction
as to vertiginous heights i watch you soar
i realize it’s neither option at all
for my wings can never quite take flight like yours
lest you crumble under your great wings and fall
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 2:38 PM UTC
When the camera was a following suit
It would gnaw on the amaranth, internally
******* the air and all emotion inside itself
Giving eyes to itself
It saw the deploring dump of flesh
As it split, with the coyest drone
Nov 14, 2016
Nov 14, 2016 at 11:36 AM UTC
Satan, why is everyone so scared of him?
Lets knock on his door with a thousand cherubim,
And if it’s not enough come back with a garrison,
Of the highest class of angels, some six winged seraphim.
When the battle is raging on,
The demons will start to groan,
When their King is stripped from his throne,
And beat until the white meat is shown,
So we can see his flesh and bones.
Only then we will celebrate our victory,
When the enemy is history.
You see, Violence is the key,
The Devil’s death is meant to be.
It won’t mean spit to me,
The pain and all it brings,
To a being less than me.
I guess this means,
If the torture was switched to me.
Then it won’t mean spit to thee,
A being more than me.
While he’s so busy deploring me,
Instead of looking for more to see
There’s much more to me,
Than a sinning human being.
But since the God I love,
Promised me a place above
My shoulders I have to shrug,
**** the other thugs,
Give ‘em war, not love.
Oct 3, 2010
Oct 3, 2010 at 1:27 PM UTC
This universe is God’s creation what more is there to say
and so everything that happens in it is a part of His play.
It’s only when something starts to go wrong on a major scale
God personally has to come down to make sure it doesn’t fail.
The world is not perfect though perfection is hidden there
and so every once in a while it requires God’s loving care.
This is also the general work of all spiritual masters and saints
who go about doing their sacred duty without any complaints.
To the people at large this may not be obvious though some would suspect
about the universal maintenance of creation by God and those of His Elect.
Even the forces of nature respond in accord with what has been laid down:
that original master plan which God adjusts every time He has to visit town.
These visits some say are very infrequent and thus too far in between
and so the world situation as it is now is the result which can be seen.
But it’s one of the paradoxes of life that destruction often preceeds reconstruction
and unbeknown to most God did come and leave again inspite of any obstruction.
But God’s not to blame for this as His Spirit is forever here omnipresent
it’s because of man’s forgetfulness of Him that precipitates His descent.
By living an unnatural existence in the world man causes so much harm
to his own kind and the harmony of nature which only raises the alarm.
If, as it is said that, the Earth is the centre of our known universe
then whatever bad happens here must have repercussions adverse.
Like the hub of a giant wheel which gradually begins to break down
the rough vibrations that follow on through are to be felt all around.
And so man seeks to escape from this world he is destroying
well before its own time is up - how the situation is deploring.
In selfish pursuits and mostly to satisfy all of his ignorant desires
man is turning this world into an ash heap after smoke and fires.
The signs are here for us all to see, there shouldn’t be any mistake,
that the universal maintenance of creation Some One has to make.
Especially on this world here, given that it’s the very centre of it all,
being the only place that we know of where man acts so very small.
_______________________________________________________
Dec 16, 2012
Dec 16, 2012 at 9:44 PM UTC
If you wake tomorrow
And I am gone,
Then know that I
Will be in some safer place,
And won't not return
No more.
If you wake tomorrow
But light is dim,
You will me not behold
For my silhouette is just a veil,
Flowing in the wind,
Evermore.
If you wake tomorrow
A little colder,
And my shadow is
The only fragment left of me,
I have your dreams
Restored.
If you wake tomorrow
To a silence,
Leaving you trembling
The voice you hear is not me,
But a sigh deploring in
Your core.
Mar 20, 2013
Mar 20, 2013 at 10:00 AM UTC
In an effort to preserve a solitary strand of consciousness laced with conscientiousness that I can only describe as the lingering remnants of hope within me, I'd like to take the time to catalogue this lonely thought amidst an overwhelming, unwanted, and relentless cacophony.
Sometimes, even within the most ludicrous events or wanderings of the mind we can find a moment of gratitude or humble ourselves to then change our perspective
-however briefly.
Think about how tirelessly a phone speaker or any electronic device for that matter works to provide as a source of consistent entertainment, comfort, and support (depending on how you utilize your devices). Yet the minute it breaks or fails, we viciously attack it for having failed us; chastising, deploring, and implementing our derogatory sleights once it deviated outside of its expectancy. Negating the circumstances previous in which it has been right there to provide what we desired or needed in real time.
The same thing can be applied to how we treat each other. It is vital to remember if we feel that someone has failed us to simultaneously recall how many times they have been there when we needed them. And most importantly forgive them the faults of their human condition while gaining the ability to recognize those very faults within ourselves. Approach with understanding, share wisdom, and spread compassion as you tread. Even if the circumstances do not fall in kind with you. The reason behind your pain, confusion, and suffering is so that you'll know when the good times come. "What you are, I once was. What I am, so you will become."
Dec 18, 2017
Dec 18, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
I live in a giant matrix
of imaginary wierd-oooo's
A cast of coo-koos counting
tics
and clocks.
Who are totally ignoring
a situation deploring
It's like they are all snoring!
There are locks,
on all
the tocs.
Yes! Ticks are piling up
at six, five, and seven
****** by gravity
dead or alive,
without even one debate
without Tocs: always late
Time slowed down is our fate.
The curse?
Reverse
Over-drive.
Nov 21, 2014
Nov 21, 2014 at 5:55 PM UTC
Morrissey was deploring
Henson forever boring
So how could similar I
Ever be worth adoring?
a.p
May 14, 2017
May 14, 2017 at 12:39 AM UTC
I've added a line: "Even fish feel while they swish!"
Doddery
Am I getting doddery,
Long in the tooth,
Long dead to youth?
Or sensible, experienced, mature,
Deploring times and crimes of culture?
I feel pain, must look away
When I see creatures run, swim, fly
Abused,
Unfelt for,
Victimised.
**** fight, horse race, injured, forced;
Elephant, rhinoceros, without tusk;
Even fish feel while they swish;
Hunted whales or seals or tuna.
Turned into a grilled hamburger
I no longer eat frankfurter…
What the heck is wrong with me?
Who out there sees what I see?
*doddery;
slow and unsteady in movement because of weakness in old age: he's a bit doddery on his legs and doesn't get about much.
Doddery 5.18.2021 Our Times, Our Culture II; Arlene Nover Corwin
May 19, 2021
May 19, 2021 at 10:58 AM UTC