"desuetude" poems
I walk down the street whisked by the fragrant aroma of a ***** floating above the clouds
Encased in venom but dismantled plumes of disembodied hair gave her a shroud
I saw in her minced reflection the swindled lust of a happy conclusion
To years of isolated rebarbative delusion
To serenade with penultimate swaggers as though I have been fully swooned
Too soon to aim my praise at an adoring moon
Tugging on mutual hearts entwined with the summer breeze
Trying to garner the summer heir and the summer flair
A panache to clothe every armed bear, disarmed by a propitiated care
A crisp lament crashes the party as a heckler gouging for blindness
I clinch a ****** anger as a riotous engine crafted from wineskins
Belonging to an ageless agelast scurried in dismay
I warp the warbled marble sleet a craven disarray
Then I clamber, risqué in fleeting moments a criminal repartee
I wallop the emerging consensus as the 16th hands me over dumped tea
And a ****** tree laughs as the whitewashed sanity of sanitarium ******
I swerve away from the indecency of a pepper enclosed in chosen wax
A gibbous shackle crumpled on a concrete semaphore
An erratic blithe minatory metaphor
Saturnine clout sweeps the dusty apron from the desuetude of homespun lethargy
Rampant clovers distilled from a dreamscape a raspy sea
Trespassing whisper surmounts the lambent alpenglow of a newborn sun
A sleek potter’s spell encumbered by a lapsed pun
Doors ajar and vats wed with an aimless spar
I finally see the fullness of majesty adorned as a breathing star.
Jun 30, 2016
Jun 30, 2016 at 7:42 AM UTC
A canorous music perforates my opaque
Quivering chromaticism smears me
With osculance and solidarity
I solicit solitude
And altogether, I'll be accompanied
By my only one ally
We, anon, will rally loneliness
Imbibing a cup of chocolate
With zest and dally
Oh!... An ameliorated hallucination
Do not! I beseech! decimate
My incipient, redintegrating mate ---
I cannot delineate now any line of this smooth... lie!
Oh... What love dove above!
Blinked delving and desperarion
Scintillated once whilst falling apart on my face!
With a liquor of ink... and... tears
Penetrated any level of my flesh and sunk into my sole soul
Letting a chrysalis breed into a labyrinthine verisimilitude
Lulled by loop and fetching,
Fetching equanimity
I'm sorry... I cannot any more equilibrize anything
This is my alibi desuetude
I hope desynchronised is not my goodbye!
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
Entropy hunts you down;
until around 60,
this remains abstract.
Then, it becomes fact.
"Things fall apart;"
bodies are things.
Hearts and souls
improve with age.
Minds and flesh do not.
Fight the good fight.
You can only delay
inevitable decrepitude.
Every day, a battle
against the inevitable.
War with a grim enemy
that can never give up.
Entropy will hunt you down
Until your walls collapse
and death, relentless,
roars through the breach.
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 9:33 AM UTC
A canorous music perforates my opaque,
It is gods, talking...
Rain's drops are their pillars of the temple.
Echo of gossip...
Quivering chromaticism smearing me,
With osculates and solidarity,
Eventually...
Kissing a cross 'round my knuckle,
I start...
I solicit solitude...
Away from this deluge of unknown.
This echo of bursting sparks, dreams...
Will I altogether, be accompanied
By my only one ally?
We anon, god(?) I hope(!), will rally loneliness,
Imbibing a cup of chocolate
And zest and dally.
This sweet's like gold.
But... One for all, all for one...
Ostracizing my faith...
Oh!... An ameliorated hallucination.
The cross fell.
Do not! I beseech! decimate
My incipient, redintegrating mate ---
I cannot delineate now any line of this smooth... lie!...
Gods still howling
But I am still walking
The echo melts through.
Oh... What love dove above!
Blinked delving and desperarion...
Scintillated once whilst falling apart on my face!
The rain of dead, the rain of shadows.
With a liquor of ink... and... tears
Melting my ego, my flesh
Sunk in my sole soul
I yield and fall
Letting a chrysalis breed into a labyrinthine verisimilitude
Of lies,
Lies,
Yes.... Of lies!
Lulled by loop and fetching,
I cannot resume, I kneel more and bow,
Tie my cross again 'round my knuckle
Till I dust to golden grain.
And hover
Fetching equanimity... No eyes will ever again bloom hope.
I'm sorry... I cannot any more equilibrize anything.
This is my alibi desuetude
'Cause I'm thirsty for luxury.
Stopped ended lines, squeezing and hugging ink.
I hope desynchronised is not my goodbye.
Aug 3, 2017
Aug 3, 2017 at 7:30 AM UTC
You stand there so Becoming
All dolled up
Poised and Fetching
Radiating such Opulent Glamour
You stand there Becoming
Someone your not
Your Disguise
Becoming a Distorted Mutation
Of what was once Becoming You
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 1:28 PM UTC
It started out so innocently
A drink every now and then
But he quickly spiraled downhill
He became a mess
This constant desuetude
Of alcohol he kept well hidden
Cost him his job
His family
His love
And his life
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:04 PM UTC
A life of serpentine-driven fate,
a flow of undulating winds,
is a life left in desuetude
ululating for a course more driven.
May 4, 2020
May 4, 2020 at 7:34 AM UTC
the girl with the blue heart
waits by the bus stop
hoping someone would come and take her away.
a tumor had formed in her chest
from when she got drunk on stolen love.
she reeked of liquor, anxiety, desuetude,
and the fear that she may never be loved.
the girl with the blue heart
wasn't always like this;
her heart was once golden
with forest green streams running through her veins.
geraniums and chrysanthemums adorned her face
and kissed her lips like milk and honey.
now the girl with the blue heart
speaks with a mouth full of cobwebs
and the never-ending desire
to crawl six feet deep into the ground.
her caesious fingertips
chased maladies down the boulevard
until she reached dead ends.
the girl with the blue heart
craves nothing more than nepenthe,
melatonin,
and a place to call home.
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 6:58 PM UTC
Everything is poetry and poetry is everything.
I~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~l
Everything is poetry and poetry is everything.
Variegated and multicoloured rich rhyming
Every line a rich tapestry of finest work.
Rhyming refulgent words brilliantly shining
Y-chromosomes with male characteristics
The male poems less feminine than the female
How do you tell the gender of a rampant poem
In everything is poetry and poetry is everything
Naughty poems are food and drink to youths
God fearing Catholic Poems are ubiquitous
In praise of God these poems are school fed.
Sunday schools singing their hearts in praise.
Prayers set to the music of the mighty *****
Oh the Victorian poets were the masters of it.
Everything is poetry and poetry is everything .
The modern poets have lost the art of praise
Redemptions are hard achieved in gods name
Yet more poetry written on a toilet wall.
As six mumf ago they cuddent even spel poet
Now by Jove they are one. Hallelujah.
Desuetude books of self published remainders
Poetry being all things n all things being poetry
Osmosis of a dilution of simple talent lost.
Epistemological studies of poetic knowledge
Tied up in blue ribbons in chronological order
Rarely seeing the light of day on a dusty shelf
Years on a collection of dead poets published
In everything is poetry and poetry is everything
Sagas of eponymous hero’s before a nation
Escalading castle walls to rescue fair maidens
Vexatious poetry going nowhere but hanging
Every stanza a cliff-hanging story of old.
Refineries built to recycle old poems for new
You know everything is poetry as I have stated
There is not so much on web-sites ever seen
Hundreds of poems viewed n little critique
It gets brushed over with a simple thumbs up
Now next time you wonder ...Can I inspire. ?
Gainsay with gusto the death of the verse.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Written by Philip.
November 16th 2018.
Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 7:59 AM UTC