"dispensed" poems
If burden cannot be dispensed with,
Then burden shall be dealt with.
So evil I have become of late.
If only they knew the truth.
May 27, 2014
May 27, 2014 at 3:48 PM UTC
i'm not sure what happened
to those beautiful women
i used & let live in my
shivering veins
synchronized swimming in my circulatory system
sunken eyes brimming
with that chlorine concoction they used to dip in
i dug them & ditched them
but i still recollect their quivering lips
as i dispensed the final kisses
& surrounded the spa with walls & fences
i mean i wonder if they still exist
with no lifeguard there to witness them?
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 7:47 PM UTC
The left of center
are in north bound throes of a dupe
and can't begin to forecast this wonder of polluted marvel,
in the morrow
my optics discharged in a catastrophic traversal
While whimsy and accidental feels like I've taken pills
a power rain this sobbing has spilled
No longer to be contained based on sheer will
Attacked by neurotic transcending
While sifting through files and photo stacks
Came across multiples of your smiling face
From when I shot you, a couple hundred miles back
No one would dare debase the abundance of your emitted grace
Bloodshot mist eyed and blind from tears
control lost during transport steer
Drips off my cheek pouring down my chest
Could make great sense to don a life vest
Filling up floorboards like a spraying firehose
Shattering cascades diamondize the windows
A single glance at an image turns farmland into rural seaquake
If they interview my lifeless corpse what a headline this will make,
turning tragedy into a foolish mistake
people will curse and laugh
Paved over roads now films unseen
when dusk fuse night from the weep my eyes dispensed
Elements effected by incidents
Rising waves climb over to decimate interstate 65
All over a tiny tear drop and her sweet smiling photograph
Oct 20, 2018
Oct 20, 2018 at 8:01 PM UTC
when you would have thought that nerve had gone, worn down,
when you would have thought that sense was a nub, tuckered out,
given a well deserved rest, after all, it was the best of each of us
maybe a glow, flickering in and out, a summer sun between clouds,
the occasional pang pinging, radiant, radiating in forgotten places,
luxury good, can’t longer afford, once, given with a happy reckless
crazy how love stays with me, low grade infection, ready to spread,
bud by morning, afternoon full blossom, black wilt by next daylight,
can’t decipher, finally decide, these tremors make old age life worthy?
absent, but memorized slivers, old poems, drive by glances of places,
hurt like hell so briefly, double over, no one notices, so fast dispensed,
it’s crazy how love stays with me,
and it’s a crazy that tastes so good,
hurts so awfully good, so badly bad
perhaps that is why behind my back,
not to my face, they whisper, call me,
the guy, still crazy after all these years,
just still crazy after all these tears, or just,
still crazy
Jul 9, 2023
Jul 9, 2023 at 5:45 AM UTC
Ignorant before the heavens of my life,
I stand and gaze in wonder. Oh the vastness
of the stars. Their rising and descent. How still.
As if I didn't exist. Do I have any
share in this? Have I somehow dispensed with
their pure effect? Does my blood's ebb and flow
change with their changes? Let me put aside
every desire, every relationship
except this one, so that my heart grows used to
its farthest spaces. Better that it live
fully aware, in the terror of its stars, than
as if protected, soothed by what is near.
4.6k
Ladies and gentlemen, welcome aboard Afterlife Airlines.
I’m your pilot, Captain Meta Physics.
Please fasten your sleep belts
as we are about to leave the body.
Please direct your attention to your stewardess
while she demonstrates safety procedures.
In the event of a drastic reduction in karma,
a mask will fall down from above you.
Place it on and breathe deeply of pure love.
Should those passengers who are clinically dead
find themselves returned by a surgeon’s skill,
the life raft under your seat will inflate
with a new sense of purpose.
After take off the stewardesses will serve milk and honey.
For your entertainment, the movie is
anything with Shirley Maclaine in it
or there are seven channels of chi
on the chakra-phones being dispensed soon.
For those contemplating joining the Tantric Mile High club,
please be considerate of your fellow passengers.
We’re making good time because
the breath of God is always behind us.
Below us to the right is the Ocean of Ego
and to our left some passengers may glimpse
the chain of islands: Faith, Hope and Charity.
We’ve been advised that it’s a little busy on The Other Side
so we’ve been placed in a holding pattern
on the astral plane.
Passengers are reminded to retrieve all emotional baggage
for security reasons
and please help Customs
by declaring all religious preferences.
Ladies and gentlemen, we’re cleared for landing now.
On behalf of the crew, I hope you enjoyed
your transdimensional flight with Afterlife Airlines
and we hope to see you aboard again soon.
Please fasten your sleep belts,
we’re coming in for reincarnation.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 1:57 AM UTC
Psst
Hey man
You looking for a boost?
Some bud? Molly? *****
I gotch you
Let's be out
Let's look forward, shifting eyes
Thick blunts, welcome to The Court of Miracles
Where no ones ever dry and everyone's good
The whole place was flooded with music
Pounding, pulsing, entrancing
thump thump thump thump
Laser lights flashing neon colors
Multicolored creatures of night dancing to the whimsical noise
The DJ was young
Attentive to his machine that dispensed exuberant sensate explosions
Rocking back and forth, flipping switches, turning knobs
We are, we can, we will live forever
Then it all went silent and the whole place shot out with a feeling of anticipation
WE ARE IMMORTAL
BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM
The bass caused everyone of us to vibrate and pick up the vibrations of one another
Hey bro
Take this
Molly
Nerves become fervent
Now meet my other friend
Lucy
Mind is widened
Now you're candy flipping
Hippy tripping
We met a girl
Her dad was a record producer
She was way out there
She was out of her head
We met an artist
He used different types of wood
And carved shapes and patterns in to them
Then painted it with acrylics
Then smashed it with a sledge hammer
People bought it
He was brilliant
He was ******
I was dazzled
She tasted like *****
He tastes like cigarettes
***** devils
Looking for a time
I saw veterans from Iraq letting loose
Thank you
A sea of sweaty smiles going for miles
Under a baroque moon
Sleeveless shirts
Minuscule skirts
Beads, glow sticks
Unity
Altogether
Under one universe
Dedicated to this single moment
And what it means to us
One mind
Joined
For equal freedom
Apr 12, 2014
Apr 12, 2014 at 11:35 PM UTC
Nature teaches us our tongue again
And the swift sentences came pat. I came
Into cool night rescued from rainy dawn.
And I seethed with language - Henry at
Harfleur and Agincourt came apt for war
In Ireland and the Middle East. Here was
The riddling and right tongue, the feeling words
Solid and dutiful. Aspiring hope
Met purpose in "advantages" and "He
That fights with me today shall be my brother."
Say this is patriotic, out of date.
But you are wrong. It never is too late
For nights of stars and feet that move to an
Iambic measure; all who clapped were linked,
The theatre is our treasury and too,
Our study, school-room, house where mercy is
Dispensed with justice. Shakespeare has the mood
And draws the music from the dullest heart.
This is our birthright, speeches for the dumb
And unaccomplished. Henry has the words
For grief and we learn how to tell of death
With dignity. "All was as cold" she said
"As any stone" and so, we who lacked scope
For big or little deaths, increase, grow up
To purposes and means to face events
Of cruelty, stupidity. I walked
Fast under stars. The Avon wandered on
"Tomorrow and tomorrow". Words aren't worn
Out in this place but can renew our tongue,
Flesh out our feeling, make us apt for life.
3.4k
Across the ice a baritone
Projects his notes of steel,
A tenor’s harmonizing
Adds that melancholy feel
And the glory of the voices
Flows out through alders bare
And the listeners weep for Russia’s soul
And the tragedy found there.
The tragic melancholy
Found in every Russian heart
Liberated by the sadness
A fine harmony can impart.
Of the monolithic yesterdays,
Those forgotten fields of dead
And that fire within the *****
Which numbs the agony of the head.
Dark stains along the timber wall
Wood fire’s stones make steam
It fills the room with stifling heat
Which sweats the bodies clean.
Red wheals raised on shoulders
Birch branches whip the back
Whilst companion tones of maleness
Speak in vectors women lack.
Red larches in the foothills
Gold lantern light on snow,
The vastness of ancient steppes
Of Central Asia grow.
A viola’s velvet passion
Sighs beneath a cottage door
And the sadness in sensation
Brings grown men to weep once more.
The vastness of the terrain
The hardness of the land,
The bitter cold of northern wind,
Each freezing winter spanned
By Siberia’s lashing gales,
White snow is metres deep
And turquois ice as hard as steel
Beneath which... rivers creep.
Dostoyevsky,Kruschev,
Rasputin and the Tsars,
Great Lenin, Marx and Trotsky
And the swords of Horse Hussars.
Gorbachev the great redeemer,
Poor Yeltsin’s pale white skin
And the ****** found in Stalin's smile
Span the politics of sin.
This great Russian melancholy
Lies deep within the soul
It’s a legacy of yesterday
Of her history's brutal goal.
It’s a product of the suffering
Inherent in the past
Endured by legions of the people
Then dispensed with…
With a laugh!
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
13 April 2009
Jan 27, 2010
Jan 27, 2010 at 10:46 PM UTC
*A tragic tradition from times long past
Weak of wit and hard of heart
Thus pawns are born and
Circumstance plays its part
Here we stand again, aghast
Alas, what evil has come to pass!
Questions burn, anger rises
Vengeance brews on the horizon
The world has turned for years and years
On violence and wars, and bitter tears
You build - they break, you smile - they’re fake
Injustice reigns in misfortune’s wake
Struggle for some, victory for others
Caps are waved with fair-weather feathers
Who are they, who are we?
Who is safe, who is free?
Where is the heart that knows no fear?
Where is the mind that’s always clear?
An ephemeral world, a passing phase
The old, the new
The false, the true
A blink of an eye in eternity’s gaze
Yet weak-minded malignancies
Must ply their trade of misery
Dispensed with as refuse in this life
****** as bartered souls in the next
Fate’s hand is heavy and dark is the night
For the vicious heart and feeble intellect.*
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 8:57 AM UTC
AN ATTACK ON BARBERCRAFT
[Dedicated to George Cecil Jones]
At last an end of all I hoped and feared!
Muttered the hermit through his elfin beard.
Then what art thou? the evil whisper whirred.
I doubt me soerly if the hermit heard.
To all God's questions never a word he said,
But simply shook his venerable head.
God sent all plagues; he laughed and heeded not,
Till people certified him insane.
But somehow all his fellow-luntaics
Began to imitate his silly ticks.
And stranger still, their prospects so enlarged
That one by one the patients were discharged.
God asked him by what right he interfered;
He only laughed and into his elfin beard.
When God revealed Himself to mortal prayer
He gave a fatal opening to Voltaire.
Our Hermi had dispensed with Sinai's thunder,
But on the other hand he made no blunder;
He knew ( no doubt) that any axiom
Would furnish bricks to build some Donkeydom.
But!-all who urged that hermit to confess
Caught the infection of his happiness.
I would it were my fate to dree his weird;
I think that I will grow an elfin beard.
2.3k
Beggars line the busy streets
cup and cloth outstretched
the look of desperation etched on their faces
like the dawn shadow of a carved lithograph
they don't ask me for spare change
just a simple nod of acknowledgement;
even after a shower and a change of clothes
I must have their look, that broken beaten look
the look of the street.
George Square is busy today
tourists happy clicking panoramic memories
admiration of forced foolish bravery at the Cenotaph
a list of names they will never know
and marvel at the antiquated architecture
to later revel in the wonderment of how anyone
in a civilised and modern society can do without skyscrapers
while they grudgingly share a half-measure of a single malt
I sit on a bench that marks a families love and remembrance
to the passing of a woman named Judith
the pigeons flock in carnal mass gatherings
knowing I've been there for 3 hours already
because I have the look of someone who hides his crusts
because I have the hungry eyes of the look of the street.
The well dressed man at the end of the alleyway,
the plume of carcinogen cigar smoke
like a coal fired power station in the sunlight
this is where they go for over-priced craft ales
with Sautéed Wild Rabbit starter and £65 Wagyu Tomahawk Steak
a place for fine pickings in the alleyway ashtrays
dispensed cancer sticks left disregarded
the half-finished defiance of another £9 packet
that was simply spare change to begin with
I hover around making false promises on a deadline phone call
pretending in mime to be semi-OK
that the compadres are running late
and "tell me about the theatre show later"
the misdirection amid the camouflage of plastic peace lilies
while my other hand rummages the unspent tobacco
and the black-on-black door steward keeps clocking me
because I have the look of the street.
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
This heart of mine was once dark as the clouds get.
this poor heart of mine was so rich with emptiness.
But the LORD dispensed all his love into thine Heart.
Once more I was rich, rich with a passion that sores the skies with Praise
Though I may hide in all the shadows of confinement, your hand calls me to Peace. A Peace that could never be replicated by mere man. A Peace that fill me with permanent Joy.
This heart of mine, now looks and pursues the Grace that you bore in Your stripes and thorns.
This heart of mine searches for a wave of Love that goes beyond the depths of the sea
This heart of mine now,no longer hides but it seeks to be seen, so that they may know that you Oh Lord exist.
This heart of mine is grateful that you pursued it and
was constant as the northern star.
You are not Forsaken, dear LORD
Thine be the Glory.
Jul 7, 2018
Jul 7, 2018 at 11:11 AM UTC
i felt a shock
when my gaze
shifted into
your electric
green eyes
and my gut
dropped
umpteen
stories
as a devilish grin
spread across
your oval face
your words
slithered up
and down my
spine like a
thousand serpents
prepared to strike
at the first
sight of weakness
but i couldn’t keep it—
from stumbling
out into the limelight
it must have been
the highlight—
of your day because
i stuttered and
your words sank in
and dispensed
your venom into
my stream of innocence
and i just haven’t
been the same since
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 12:24 AM UTC
i sat at her typewriter
wearin’ plain white v-neck,
plaid WalMart shorts marr’d.
i sat at her typewriter
as we discuss’d life problems.
i sat at her typewriter
dividing interest between her and
the powerful feeling received
through uniform ballyhoo.
i sat at her typewriter
feinging, waiting for her
to say she’s too drunk.
i sat at her typewriter
as she went on with her
first-world problems.
i sat at her typewriter
as they exchanged
insults yell’d and
shard’d glass of broken jars.
i sat at her typewriter
as she dispensed her drug.
i sat at her typewriter
when her and the secondary-Virgo
did move to grind.
i sat at her typewriter
as i forged fragment’d
statements to poetry.
i sat at her typewriter
when she had
that look in her eyes.
i sat at her typewriter
as my life end’d.
i sat at her typewriter
after the snow sweat.
i sat at her typewriter
when she snap’d the spine of
her first horse Sassafras.
i sat at her typewriter
when i deluded myself
about loving her.
i sat at her typewriter
never any longer.
Jan 20, 2013
Jan 20, 2013 at 10:05 AM UTC
on the day
we obviate all wars
our eyes shall see
a new dawn
as brothers and sisters
of the earth
we'll bear witness
to tranquility
history's pages
wrought in killing stains
conflicts repeated
too many times
our planet's inhabitants
all so blind
they see not
the dove of peace
man has forgotten
the tenant
of loving
thy neighbor
as an awful consequence
the gun rules with might
unto the drum
of nonviolence
man has not yet
begun to march
lay down
the sword of war
as it gravely
shadows all nations
on the horizon
a light doth flicker
beseeching man
to live cordially
dark clouds ever
they're looming
which path
shall man walk upon
the high road
leads to quiet
arms dispensed with
and deposed
pursuing the trail
of rancor
brings but
discordant clashes
Apr 7, 2014
Apr 7, 2014 at 6:42 PM UTC
A bright blue police box spins through the sky
Over 50 years have passed, so no one bothers to ask why.
A Doctor in name, but no medicine dispensed
His adventures defy all common sense.
A Companion is always along for the ride
When the TARDIS lifts off; it’s bigger inside.
Our open-mouthed guide every step of the way
Their first visit extends to a permanent stay
The last of the Timelords or so people say
From a long-distant planet they call Gallifrey
Endlessly loyal with a mind second to none
He has never resolved a dispute with a gun.
He never seems to look the same for more than a few years
A fact that has left some in fits of angry tears
But everyone he’s truly known has felt a deep bond
Just ask Rose, Martha, Donna, Clara, or Amy & Rory Pond
Questioning the world and its traditions, his mind often lingers
On the tasty goodness of custard and fish fingers.
His personality leaves cause for some alienation
But what else can one expect after regeneration?
Friends often follow quickly in his tracks
Like Danny Pink, Madame Vastra, Jenny, & Strax
Otherworldly villains into our imaginations creep
Psychotic snowmen, The Master, Daleks, Cybermen, and unrelenting Angels that Weep
Dinosaurs in London, the Titanic in space
Motorcycles driving up Big Ben fast enough to win a race
Green forests of Sherwood; painting with Van Gogh
He can take us anywhere we want to go
And if when the journey stops your lips begin to quiver
Just breathe deep and imagine the Song of a River
Don’t go off the handle or fly into a rage
Open up a favorite book and tear out the last page.
That way, the stories won’t ever end and we can let them be
Soon another generation will come along to see
How a man whose true name remains unspoken
Can face life’s harshest obstacles and still remain unbroken
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 9:47 PM UTC
Nothing these days is truly failsafe.
You buy some Ultrathins and the babies might win,
even the Trojan horse had issues for the boys of Troy.
Fancy ribbed models can end up in shreds
& I've seen the reservoir tips burst.
But if you're still ***** & thirst for safe ***
you should try different combinations
of tubed-latex along with 'the pill'
dispensed from
the fancy circular monthly-packages.
That's your best bet,
your best chance of survival.
If anything, don't be a dinosaur
thinking your living Jurassic,
this is about being prophylactic
'cause nobody knows
what killed those ornery
unprotected beasts.
The experts believe,
it was probably
a rare disease
that got 'em.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 4:20 AM UTC
Squandering time chasing
snowflakes has resulted in
the melting of my dreams.
Ripened pears that hung
on tres like teardrop
earrings were never tasted.
Their delicious sweet liquid
evaporated into
shriveled up hopes.
Exquisite formulations of
fecundated seeds were
not harvested.
A garden of splendor
was left unattended.
Blankets were not dispensed
when the coldness crept in.
A cradle once filled with
monumental potential
has fallen from a
mighty redwood.
Consternatin now serenades
this withering prodigy.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 6:22 PM UTC
near three years, nearer to eclipses,
since last scribed here, been there
been loved, mistreated, done my share
of giving beatings, for the deserving,
never been any body’s ****** no starting
now=ever.
men look at me, their eyes self-seducing,
a crook(ed) finger never summoned me
or any self respecting woman of valor,
with a full fist of words, a tongue sharper
than a deli slicer, if looks can **** then
left my fair share of men on the Riviera,
the Hamptons, the Gold Coast, uptown
and way downtown where the cool kids
pretend play @ being prey hunting grownups.
ya, hear your thinking and it’s stinking,
my generated magno-electric vibes that’s
to blame, get this kids! never your fault
being whom you the actual F are, it’s their filters
that ***** their vision, their desires unbidden,
casual dispensed, thinking glory is theirs to share.
my road is not broken, there are signs even I spot,
when the man I crave is nearby, whose calm is not
couched cool, who doesn’t wear his possessions on
his sleeve, one who says adventure, yes, let’s go,
never saying when, for the only when is what both crave,
the loving of immediacy of “right now,” and add
to that pithy, my name, Brandy, acknowledging it’s
me, just me, he addresses and not some vision that
was crafted by others into an ideal, and ‘because’ is
not sufficient but the perfect rationale, to trust what
your absent father called your *“finely tuned instincts for
human finery, humans who eclipse ordinary stars*”
Jul 15, 2023
Jul 15, 2023 at 7:57 AM UTC
Sorry your flowers are late
I purchased them each one and the color was representing the many individual friends a delightful blue
Iris was no other than S.P. when dark shadows gather as they sometimes do she is the bluing of
Beautiful contrast this rich blue spreads from point of origin to the eye engulfing all visible ranges a
Small but great blue lifts the very shadows up until the sun vanquishes them by golden light then the red
Hues embolden of richness many times it is spent but never squandered and its riches never diminish or
Disappear in friendships ever rewarding garment he endures R.P. Violet this friend this light was
Adorned in grave clothes to join her loved ones of all generations but her influence warmth and the
Kindness that cannot die lingers it wafts across fields it passes through airy open window you smile
Unknowingly because she is by your side and not ever more so than your birthday precious one her
Initials are N.V. yellow so rich it blushes the wind this shear fabric so light it waves as pure silk you were
Given this gift early in life its folds hold so much treasured moments grasses trees houses playful side
Walks a stream of memories that bind you in the same vase others have beheld your combined beauty
Of thought and action I.M… The green of a soldier is enjoined by the mist it drifts it has patterns truth
And faith walks within this creature that has stature her face calls the night bugler all is dispensed
Within her voice is the kindest authority to all duty is understood in its deepest meaning G.H.E. then we
Come to multicolored piece of finest art true this grandness walks by your side and more so in your
Heart vestures sown with silver in glowing gold if an ever the hair turn to silver the cold black of youth
Will tower into all sunsets and grand children will always bring rays of joy and laughter happy belated
birthday Roberta
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 1:07 PM UTC
I can not seem to see you anymore.
Not clearly anyway.
Why do you hide in shadows,
Avoid the light of my love,
Cover your face with you hands?
Speak in hushed whispers,
That only I can hear?
I miss your face of sunshine,
Your hugs of reassurance.
Your inviting laughter of gaiety.
Your innate wisdom,
So liberally dispensed.
Without your light to guide me,
More and more, I am often lost.
Grown man or not,
Without you I'm still a child.
The flowers I brought you last time,
are now brown and wilted.
And your headstone
Needs a good cleaning.
Oct 16, 2014
Oct 16, 2014 at 12:29 PM UTC
Burial of fury in a tomb of apathy,
mood moderated and aligned with conformity.
Speech pleasant in tone and comfortable in delivery.
Approaches with cautious optimism his tasks daily.
Though the ship of consciousness has raised its anchor,
he returns to questioning the whereabouts of his anger.
Yet time and chemistry have dispensed of the mystery.
Restoring balance and forging will to function socially.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
She has left me forever but wants to enjoy my company forever because she knows that my advice was as worthy as her father's advice for her. And she wanted a cool boyfriend, not a caring and overprotective ****** like me, in her words. She has unfortunately chosen to ditch me forever. But she is paradoxically true in saying that the care I dispensed was more like that of a father than just a cool lover or a boyfriend who she desired.
I can't stand the sight of herself willingly falling into the quicksand that the evil society is. She will weep alone someday, repenting for making all the wrong choices and I won't be waiting for her forever because my respected parents have wrested my life from the clutches of death so that I may do something worthy of my calibre, not condescending from mere some ****** girl's stupid decisions.
So I chose to move on alone. She'll realize one day that her decisions were all made sluttily and wrongly so. But when she realizes so, I will make sure that I am not there to handle her once again. I will stop being concerned for her altogether.
I forgive her with the guarantee to forget her and come over to move on beyond her one day. But no one will get my more than humanitarian love ever.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 10:53 AM UTC