"disallowed" poems
Broke
Unable to finalize any purchase
Checking
For change in the last places that one searches
Insufficient
To the point I'm unable to ward off the throes of destitution
Bankrupted
By devaluing those who have not made restitution
Insolvent
To the point of having to fight off the urge to curse
Disallowed by the prose that places value and give credit....to verse
Denied
Any credit accrued....maybe even unearned
Reevaluation
With no accounting for the time you
SPENT
Learning what you have learned
Depreciation or Appreciation
Cannot be quantified by the lack of someone.saying thanks
Interest will eventually be of value
Once accrued... but for now I must accept
That I'm simply overdrawn at my memory banks
Investment in my own value
Will allow me growth
In my own ...
......personal
Checking account
Helping me in balancing the books
Keeping me payed up and happy
BY
Always giving others their true valuation
So that ego doesnt become a currency
That is subject to... such a devastating inflation
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 4:24 PM UTC
encased with passion & desire,
love & lust he waits for her still,
a muse
he's restless & listless, his heart beats,
& bleeds, catch up, catch up,
a muse
leaking lover lost through, a dripping soul,
red raw, vulnerable, closed,
a muse
a fragility so unknown to her, a naivety,
oblivious, at risk from all men,
a muse
he couldn't have her, so he destroyed her,
she disallowed all men in,
a muse
denial & unfazed, she's dazed, confused,
he watches from the sidelines,
a muse
this obsession won't hit him,
or maybe the day she is gone, he will,
a muse
drugs were a power, greater than her,
releasing caged birds, an angel above,
a muse.
© Sia Jane
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 5:29 PM UTC
High school's unwitting, eclectic crowd --
sweethearts, jocks, "gangsters", A.S.B. --
had universes stuffed in it.
You can clearly picture where you'd sit
during lunch, shaded under a tree
near the bike racks; disallowed
and unaware, the future unplowed.
No one expected a baby
(or thirty), marriages, deaths, the flit
to forlorn bitterness: counterfeit
lives. Your peers had much more agency
and promise than they saw, unendowed
with foresight in a teenage crowd.
Aug 26, 2013
Aug 26, 2013 at 12:05 PM UTC
The Dragon's Egg
To understand my addiction
You have to know the
Back-story.
I was born in the dead of
Winter. Wednesday's child...
Full of woe. I was a preemie.
Mom fell on her stomach while
On a chair trying to change a
Lightbulb. As unpreposessing
A child as ever was born...
I won't go into my childhood
Difficulties too much, as they
Might prompt your judgment
Upon my parents. They were
Not really at fault. They did
The best they could based
Upon their childhoods and
Limitations....
Mom was sick.
A great deal. The victim of
Horrific migraine headaches
And an undiagnosed (therefore
Untreated) bi-polar condition.
She had aspirations of being an
Actor. She really should never
Have had three children. She
Simply couldn't handle it. I was
Born only 16 months after her
Firstborn, my sister Chris. This
Definitely didn't help matters.
Then, because my little brother
Mark was born just as her
Acting career took off, she had
Much less time for my sister
And I. She had a newborn, a
Career, a husband and
Postpartum depression. Chris
And I (and eventually Mark)
Were neglected. Not really
Mom's fault. It was what
It was...
Dad was a complex man.
A hot-tempered stoic. A hard
Worker who hated manual
Labor. A war hero who also
Became a runner (he would
Become a severe
Alcoholic - an addiction he
eventually overcame).
A generous miser.
A cultured plebian.
A spiritually minded atheist.
I don't blame him. But the
Last dichotomy was our
Downfall. We were
disallowed from church. Went
To an atheist Sunday School.
We learned about all the world
Religions save Christianity.
Or maybe I missed THAT lesson.
But as a result I had no real
Moral compass to live by. My
Parents tried to teach us
Ethical behavior, but because
Jesus and the Holy Spirit weren't
A part of the equation it was
Doomed to failure. One can't
Simply be "moral" or "ethical".
Without Jesus, we are all
Rank sinners. Sorry if this
Offends some of you. But it's
TRUE. Jesus paid the price.
Only faith in Him can make
A person right with the Father.
All else is vanity. My father
Spent his lifetime trying to be
A "good" man. He tried to
Be a "good" husband. A "good"
Father. But his efforts
Always stymied by lack
Of the essential puzzle piece....
JESUS.
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
Death stole a soul from its earthly place no other can fill the empty place for thirty years each one gave
A little and then a little more in time mathematics over ruled and was disallowed two became one. The heart
Of love ever watchful try as you may the bond unseen unshakeable unbreakable this spouse this was the
Only house my soul has found unending rest within these walls our ease measureless as infinity. We can
Search earth and universe but not one glimpse, it was one of a kind just one face.
Commitments watchful eye never allowed disorder steal away even while surrounded by friends these
Eyes fixed to yours through them pour each moment love’s torrent we go to distant habitations passing
On always to carefree laughter oh this stronghold our union has made only lions know these privileged
Paths we walk together hand in hand a man and a woman who tasted fruit as it had to be back in Eden
Purest delight no dark turning only the light drenching quenching every longing.
Time was the banner unfurled our covering protecting shield over head rain and sun deflected as we
Strolled past ruins of former days then it spoke softly of permanent connections that always flowed into
Promise filled tomorrows to soon it would speak of unbearable sorrow. The one would be left only as a
Half plunged from brightest light into darkest gloom, people still stir and go about their business I walk
By them they are whole while I walk in half light and I am blinded and confused once everything made
Sense. Now only senseless starved for a single meaning anything to stop the pain.
Moving forward is the only constant it leads to only more desperate pleadings that go unheard through
Black and twisted dead wasteland I feebly stumble I see you momentarily only to have you vanish if only
I could pass into the forgotten world where memories were unlawful and strictly enforced but then I
would lose you again no soul could survive that torment. Though tears flow unbidden in them you are
Alive they hold within their fiery drops the unquestionable hope of that eternal tomorrow.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 10:55 AM UTC
face in the crowd
...picture in a cloud
....thought disallowed
.....disgraced head, bowed
free ride
...heart open wide
....holding the lie inside
.....place, nowhere to hide
casual flirtation
...fine temptation
....lost translation
.....unique damnation
pair of eyes open wide
...unfaltering stride
....disgrace that is implied
.....slippy slope just to slide
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
I know of a place where a ruby was born to quietly bless
The beloved, who cry for sweeter songs to hear
However, would we be amazed nonetheless
If what made them smile today
Tomorrow;
Brought no cheer
How hidden can the heart remain, who wanders
Within this place I write of to you now
Can its desires ever be squandered
Because the always want of more
Keeps appreciation
Disallowed
Would a trusting eye be found in silent chill
Its very heart and soul be shaken
If it were to find that, the ruby cannot fill
That which is never satisfied
And always seeking
New sensations
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 6:53 AM UTC
October’s storm was brutal,
drenching rain and heavy wind.
Our little tavern by the beach
started taking water in.
Then, when the storm surge
breeched the wall,
the place lacked all defense.
Waves swept away our little bar
leaving us just the front steps.
The “Pour House” now a memory
for its scattered congregation.
Mostly Irish Catholics who enjoyed
its liberal dispensations.
Some people prefer brews to pews
for fighting off dammnation.
So many demons haunt our souls
and these demand libations.
The juke box played sad Irish songs,
the only sort it knew,
while disorderly Hibernians
enjoyed their favorite brew.
Here the patrons much preferred
Draft Guinness in a glass
while stealing furtive glances
at my waitress’ shapely ***
Here the women started homely
but were beautiful by close-
at least to those poor drunken sots
Who’d relieve them of their clothes,
By Christmas it was apparent
that the “Pour House” had to go.
There just wasn’t FEMA money
For an old man’s bar you know.
So word swept through the beach blocks
And it reached the subway station.
Gather at the Pour House Steps
for the New Year’s celebration.
Party favors must be had
So I bought some horns and hats.
Dry eyes and throats were disallowed
So I had free beer on tap.
That New Year’s Eve was cold and drear
When we held our celebration
Our dear old timers all appeared
for our “free beer” dispensation..
At midnight we stood on the steps
And had our photo taken.
We all hugged and went our separate ways
While inside our hearts were breaking.
The Pour house is a memory now.
I’ll miss those guys and girls.
It was a sort of Paradise,
a refuge from the world.
Jul 12, 2013
Jul 12, 2013 at 8:26 AM UTC
To be necessary is
to have purpose in essence.
Disavowed from senses
of contingent dependence.
Disallowed from connection
in simplest of form,
the necessary are
to be dead and too born.
Existing in realm
of support for all else,
with no reason at all
in helping themselves.
To be necessary is
to have purpose in essence;
contingency aiding
with iris virescent.
Dec 7, 2016
Dec 7, 2016 at 7:07 PM UTC
Oh! a cry so plain it
Scarcely leaves our lips.
We begin plotting lines
To sad refrain. Excise
All rights to light and life,
Still,
Quietly laying bare our
Failed plans, our lost paths;
Our mortal enemy, our
Only friend. She who
Dances outside the realm
Of our gaze, who plays
Silent melodies on broken
Keys, songs we know but are
Disallowed to sing.
She cares not
For lament or plea, she
Who fuels our fire;
She, misery.
Jul 9, 2011
Jul 9, 2011 at 4:20 PM UTC
Dread in the frame of the crowd
Bliss in the chest of the self-endowed
Fondness in the make of the riff
Gloom in the fall of the just slipped
Shock in the wake of the swift
Fury in the stamp of the disallowed
They say it aloud!
(Say it's allowed...)
Jan 5, 2011
Jan 5, 2011 at 9:27 PM UTC
It was as though I had been on trial
for nineteen years,
due process
disallowed.
The prosecution-
my chemical imbalance-
so harsh,
eased up.
The defense-
Prozac-
allowed to make
my case.
I remember it well;
the day
I decided
to let myself live.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 8:54 PM UTC
My night, under opaque wraps, collects my candid questions —
unkept before the walls crept back up on me and
crammed my thorough thoughts
into sufficient suffocation and disallowed my dislocation
from total cerebral closure —
and covers cognative wonders with a dense fence-like stone cure.
The clean-cut cold sheets, tucked beneath the bed springs
spring my curiosity through layer after layer
of teeming tides of blockades and prohibition
but someone sits at the edge of the road, just before crack
drops to cliff and he catches my despair, tangled in the rye, and
before my in-experience allows me to cry,
he hurls my candid questions back my way and continues
my disallowance of detaching myself from purity.
But despite his baseball mitts, he can’t catch my verbal fits
so I scream, “My wants can’t be blocked forever and Holden,
I’m holding onto my life for the sake of avoiding strife with you but
celibacy of the mind can only lead to our true demise.”
He looks me in the eyes, scared he’d been outdone,
so he tries to run but the cliff leaves him hanging and
I reach for his undemanding hand that swats my offer
with a backwards hat.
But his fear subsides in his recollection of his misinterpretation of
a silly old poem that led him to believe he could catch our innocence.
So wear your hat straight, Holden, ‘cause in the rye,
you’re not the groundskeeper, but keep your ground and
catch yourself before you fall off the cliff and lose yourself
in your selfless tantrums and your disregard for your need for wondering.
Let me break through my caul, ‘cause it’s burning of decay and
I’ve overstayed my welcome in this amniotic gate, devoid of vitality,
and I like my life in my own hands, so I’ll tell you now:
I’m holdin’ on, Holden. Get a grip and hold on, yourself.
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 3:54 PM UTC
As extended branches test my hunger
I grip the fruit you have become
Ripened as the winds go streaming
Slashing through my tussled hair
Yon branches quickly to defend
Though fight I must if I shall have you
This fruit is tempting, young and pure
Through its flesh my teeth they probe
Delicious as the love of life does grow each spring
Dripping down my chin, the juices
Of every one that has disallowed
Sweeter when the bowl is full, unable to take in much more
I beg, I reach, I grasp, I claw
Your vibrant eyes they look away
These roots are strong, holding tight to every probe
Tighter still I feel the warmth
It covers me in splendor spent
I lie beneath your locks so soft and beautiful as is the dawn
Touch me deep inside my soul
This claim is but a fabled speech
My love to linger till the approaching sun
The fruits of passion fill the senses
Tastier than is the thigh
Forming in the minders fashion
This is why my beating heart cries
Tears of joy as are your lips
Countless times my dreams have fallen well inside
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:25 PM UTC
Separation
Death stole a soul from its earthly place no other can fill the empty place for thirty years each one gave
A little and then a little more in time mathematics over ruled and was disallowed two became one. The heart
Of love ever watchful try as you may the bond unseen unshakeable unbreakable this spouse this was the
Only house my soul has found unending rest within these walls our ease measureless as infinity. We can
Search earth and universe but not one glimpse, it was one of a kind just one face.
Commitments watchful eye never allowed disorder steal away even while surrounded by friends these
Eyes fixed to yours through them pour each moment love’s torrent we go to distant habitations passing
On always to carefree laughter oh this stronghold our union has made only lions know these privileged
Paths we walk together hand in hand a man and a woman who tasted fruit as it had to be back in Eden
Purest delight no dark turning only the light drenching quenching every longing.
Time was the banner unfurled our covering protecting shield over head rain and sun deflected as we
Strolled past ruins of former days then it spoke softly of permanent connections that always flowed into
Promise filled tomorrows to soon it would speak of unbearable sorrow. The one would be left only as a
Half plunged from brightest light into darkest gloom, people still stir and go about their business I walk
By them they are whole while I walk in half light and I am blinded and confused once everything made
Sense. Now only senseless starved for a single meaning anything to stop the pain.
Moving forward is the only constant it leads to only more desperate pleadings that go unheard through
Black and twisted dead wasteland I feebly stumble I see you momentarily only to have you vanish if only
I could pass into the forgotten world where memories were unlawful and strictly enforced but then I
would lose you again no soul could survive that torment. Though tears flow unbidden in them you are
Alive they hold within their fiery drops the unquestionable hope of that eternal tomorrow.
Jan 7, 2012
Jan 7, 2012 at 1:55 PM UTC
~~~<0>~~~
allow me to preface
this poem you will read
by telling you i was
atheist
just so we're agreed
i never went to
Sunday school
i never went to church
in those days
when i was raised
my soul was
in the lurch
my father disallowed
talk of God in any way
it was nil
had no free will
it is the same today
i had no real mentor
neither did i learn
i was slow
i didn't know
of the Lord's return
but when i was a child
i had some "crazy" dreams
as you see
there were three
not nice by any means
the first one was of Tucson
the place where i grew up
it was of its destruction
and that a bitter cup
thete was nuclear destruction
a mushroom cloud and more
but the big deal?
it was so REAL!
i saw what was in store
i had this nightmare
several times
three nights in a row
unprepared
i was quite scared
not knowing what to do
then there was another
much worse this one was
people running
screaming
there were things
which buzzed!
i thought it was a dream
perhaps it was not
perhaps as well
i perceived hell
in a dimension caught
three nights in a row
I had this experience
i don't think
that I could sink
much further than thence
but another dream came up
that would terrify
THE LORD IN HIS GLORY
COMING FROM THE SKY!
~~~
He said He was returning
that i was now ensnared
that me and my family
HAD TO BE PREPARED!
~~~
there was a host behind him
His face i could not see
i just knew it was
JESUS CHRIST
as certain as can be
and this is all the story
you may think me a sham
put up a fight
*"i can't be right"
but folks
WHAT IF
I AM???*
Jun 23, 2015
Jun 23, 2015 at 8:51 PM UTC
The lilies will dance all night
the thimbles not quite so much
for thimble do get tired and the strength
moreover they have errands to run
they've got to go pick on a niga
its the cancel culture in acute action
on the contract to cancel and check
check this, check that, check it all around
check that crow, check that Raven
no oats for mating is not allowed
and how they talk of love and write of love
the cold blooded kind of love
in and out thank you ma'am
exploded in ninety seconds that's the limit
got things to do, got things to distract us
get a crow and clip its wings
that better fun than dancing around
its the Leninist manifesto for us
we've got the gifts that keeps on giving
we are the tops in Europe, we are super
come join the party and our revolution
come love and have fun but not that one
we have cancel him out without reprieve
but you know what mates
I do not miss being disallowed at your party
I ain't crying hurting or pining
hurray to the great unwashed
hurray to the slimes with gifts
but no thank you
Dec 23, 2020
Dec 23, 2020 at 9:11 PM UTC
Exiled, a stranger in a strange land with hope for life
But we have locked our doors to keep him out
For the life of the World unless an inconvenience
One in the image of God disallowed human decency at our action
Hands and feet of the Lord Jesus, lest it be easier to pretend the problem away
Now has come the time for our repentance;
Forgive us Father, for we have sinned
We have not loved our neighbor as ourself
Rather, we have loved ourselves and only ourselves
We are the sinners we pretend not to be
They come seeking refuge from terror and evil
We slam doors in their faces
They come hungry for food to eat
And we stuff our mouths full, claiming to have none
Can we really call ourselves People of the Lord?
They sit on the side of the road begging for our spare change
And we pretend as if we are poorer than they
They freeze to death on the sidewalk
And we cross to the other side like the priest and Levite of old
Have we reason to call ourselves the hands and feet of Christ?
Mightn’t there come a day when we are hungry with no food to eat
Did the Lord not command us to feed the hungry, and give to the poor?
Have we shown the love of the Lord to even our closest neighbors?
Mightn’t we show love rather than fear, generosity rather than persecution
Else we might no longer rightfully call ourselves the People of the Lord
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 2:43 AM UTC
If the Lord loves me why did he leave me this way?
Was the question she used to ask
As the drugs took over more each day
She felt her life was leaving her fast
On a normal day as she sat and got high
Death was close, but she could not stop
As tears ran down her face from over drugged eye
She wished this life for a new one she could swap
Then God reached out for this child of his
With love and compassion he spoke to her
And told her this is not the way you have to live
God searched her heart and knew what she’d prefer
Knowing this had to be about the Lord
The voice in her head she answered
And told it not to speak another word
Not knowing death was the hazard
She thought to herself out loud
He knows nothing about me and God
So what you are saying is disallowed
Don’t question me or go to far and ****
Not forgetting her drugs she picked up her head
For just one moment to wipe away the tears
From the drugs that to herself she overfed
The thought of death upon her was clear
At that moment standing before her was a man
She did not see his face as she looked
She only saw the holes in his feet and his hands
“I understand”, he said, “ I know what it took.
I died for you. So you don’t have to die too.”
She fell on her face and prayed for forgiveness
And told the Lord if my life you will rule
From this day forward I will be a living witness
To this day she does not do drugs
And helps as many get clean as she can
With a lot of love and even more hugs
Believing that all the while this was God’s plan
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 3:58 PM UTC
*"The ocean is a desert
with its life underground
and a perfect disguise
above..." Dewey Bunnell*
On a horse with
no name I rode
bare-backed in
the purple sage...
***** Pipe cacti
played the melodies
of Mexico.
Swaying sea grasses
were skirts for the
range fences...
broken and rusty.
To be avoided,
my parents warned...
Tetanus... lock-jaw.
Other things to be
aware of...
don't swim too far
from the beach...
don't stay too long
in the sun...
I was happy at the
tide pools... aqua and
pristine. Sea slugs...
far from slug-like.
Flat and purplish
with frilly edges,
undulating dancers.
Picked up and dropped
over and over.
Baby octopi... an
entire tidepool
drenched in purple
ink in its desperate
bid for freedom...
Sea Urchins...
"Their spines can
**** my parents
warned. It was
fascinating how
they attached
themselves to
the rocks...
Almost as firmly
as the limpets...
We had
Hermit Crab races
Ate food disallowed
at home... swam
out to where water
was ultramarine...
jumped over the
barbed-wire...
with our arms
hugging
the
sun...
SøułSurvivør
(C) 5/21/2017
May 21, 2017
May 21, 2017 at 5:39 AM UTC
“*But time makes you bolder
Even children get older
And I'm gettin' older, too*”
lyric from “Landslide” by Stevie Nicks
<>
climbing stairs, balancing two breakfasts,
two fill-to-brim-rims warning sloshing,
earbuds in place, always,
lest the news
interrupts and plunges me first thing into
moody murderous disheartened failure,
and Miz Minx Nicks lays me low
this lyric knocks me to rock,
there and then,
consequences be ****** the unstoppable
lyric rocks grinding me to an
immovable halt,
all spills,
don’t care, for the need to scream-
bleed-finally
write to understand why these
a l w a y s words arrest my soul
children
the most costly thing anyone can
create,
the lost, the found
the ones in the grave way too early,
and the ones who were born
knowing better,
children
whose inviolable sense of
totally righteousness
makes forgiveness
disabled, disallowed
for the poor clueless fools
them who naively know~nothings
who chose to raise them
here I am not getting,
no, unsteadily unreadily
too late
am older,
up-to the shaking-head age
so unexpected,
almost ridiculous
untimely unthinkable
‘cept for:
*it’s an impossiblity ~
and just
don’t understand this injustice
perpetrated upon this
unsuspecting and in denial,
sorrowful old man*
so I weep
on the steps so steep,
Woman comes to see if I'm
fallen,
my wailing at the realization of
my losses all
totally tallied
is heavy much more than
my now empty hands,
but busy them,
attempting to staunch the
flowing
overwhelming regrets that
gush from every pore,
and that no one can
ever be cleansed,
and the permance of
stains
for I am only
getting older too
killing me
way too slowly
Nov 2, 2024
Nov 2, 2024 at 8:47 AM UTC
*You have made it.
You’ve just made your self invincible.
The fact that you own this heart of mine
Rendered me vulnerable:
The freeze of your smile,
The death in your goodbye,
The craze I felt I almost wanted,
So here I am,
A soul stuck in a sleepless state,
Writing poems just to forget
What they really were about,
For longing, yet again, is disallowed
Because you got your eyes fixed
In the opposite direction
That I can hardly see your face, your stars,
The blaze of stars.
Now let me wait, at least, stay,
So that I may be able
To understand why...
Why of all
The constellations to choose from
I chose the farthest, the one
Most difficult to reach,
Then slowly, just maybe,
I’ll forget the glow...
...that you possess.*
© 2010 J.S.P.
Sep 5, 2015
Sep 5, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC