"displeasure" poems
I have, on my youtube, playlists of men.
kissing.
allow me to excuse myself, but it's not for fun and pleasure
it's quite the opposite, it's for my displeasure
but that's not entirely true.
I have them there
to remind me
that those men
will never be
me. I will never
Kiss someone
Hold someone
Love someone
like they do for eachother.
It's a feeling deep within my bones, a longing not to be ignored, a longing to hold and to be held. To kiss and be kissed.
to love
and be loved...
in a certain kinda way.
Mar 1, 2022
Mar 1, 2022 at 6:23 PM UTC
To my mortal enemy,
All lies and delusions you have carried so far are all but for nothing,
Deceiving you took from me what was a part of my fading heart once.
You are the only one I will never forgive, not until the night has been swallowed by the abyss and the sun is no longer rising in this hell.
What was the purpose of your selfish doing ? Was it greed or lust ?
Purified from all emotions but fury, I will let this fire rampage forever
The soul resented by life, creeps around in the somber fields,
Can you see it ? Of course your ignorant eyes haven't grasped the single truth yet, you cannot see anything, so keep wandering blindly,
Aimless and with displeasure we shall meet in the distorted dark,
I got even rid of the love in my chest, so that I may awaken as who I am now..if by chance I were to forgive you, could I be myself again ?
No! I don't want you to rest in your deepest sleep, I will show you the same nightmares until your dried tears turn into elusive blood.
George your amusement and be ruined, someday you will repay,
So be as it may, my courtesy must remain, I offer you my darkest passion, until you reveal that sweet soul of yours that dies.
Hey, are you watching ?
Yours truly,
Pure Furies
~ Umi
Jul 14, 2018
Jul 14, 2018 at 6:28 AM UTC
It lies in my skin,
It makes me who I am,
It makes me beautiful,
You saw and see me as lesser,
You look down at me with displeasure,
My big lips and *** were seen as ugly,
Now seen as a trend broadly,
My natural beauty has fallen in the category of fake,
My melanin aches,
My blackness sheds tears as my sense of beauty once hated,
Now brought into the public eye, now everyone all bums and lips inflated,
Something once that was seen as characteristics of my people,
Now a trend.
So sorry if I don’t follow a trend that is sickening,
But I won’t stop my smile from glistening,
Cause there are things you can’t take from us,
Our freedom, our pride, our melanin.
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 2:01 PM UTC
Imperialistic meddlers,
men of power greed and wealth
Western Imperialism
not too long ago
was once put on the shelf
Not too long ago
this name was never heard
Its name is New Order of DiSoRdEr
But still us folk of sanity
with eyes wide open
we see their compliance
lock-step herd vanity
In White House spin gone amuck
they throw their bolts of anger
to all countries on the globe
And with more and more displeasure
we witness their destructiveness
from sea to shining sea
But now I hear, see and feel
a distant faint rumbling the rising Valorous
the rumbling stampeding of democracy
by the forceful rightful anger,
the free-spirited valiant word
a word of truth and dignity,
the echo of today,
and aaah yes
to hear the thundering of the mass
To hear the thundering of the mass...
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 5:35 PM UTC
With my two eyes
This world is very different
From every angle and from every side
With these two eyes
I see a world of chaos
Wars are “won”
Wars are “lost”
But both sides lose
Because lives will never be the same
Homes are destroyed
Lives are lost
Families destroyed
Nobody wins during the war
There are no two sides
There’s only one:
We’re all losers
People are suffering from pain
People are walking down roads
Roads without names
But feelings and emotions
Guys walk down the road call heartbreak
Girls walk down the road call confusion
They meet at the same road:
Self doubt and lack of confidence
They drink the same drink every night:
Tears from the past experiences
Experiences that cut the deepest in their hearts
Children are without food
Children are without shelter
Children are without parents
They cry on the side of roads
Because they have no one to take of them
Hurricanes ruin towns
Earthquakes destroy nations
Ashes rain from the sky
Like tears from Satan
Through my two eyes
The world is a disaster
But when I put on my glasses
The world looks peaceful
When I look around with my four eyes
Everyone holding hands
And spreading the love
Everyone lives by three cardinal principals:
Peace
Love
Happiness
Through these four eyes
Everyone and everything are at peace
There are no wars
There are no tears
And there is no destruction
There is nothing but Peace
Love is always in the air
People are spreading the love
People hug each other
People are holding hands
There is no hatred
But only Love
Little children are running around
Playing sports with other children
Everyone is laughing
Everyone is smiling
Everyone is happy
There are no guns
There is no displeasure
Through my four eyes
Peace
Love
And Happiness
Are in the air
And that’s the world that I see
And what I always want to see
I want to see this world through my four eyes
And I will pass my glasses around to everyone
So we can all see what I see
The world I see through my eyes
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 1:54 PM UTC
I'm like a Doctor
I'll take your immense displeasure away
I have no certification but
I'm here to treat your needs
Even the naughty ones
Nov 17, 2015
Nov 17, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC
She kept all her emotions
Monitored by a rather
Peculiar body part
Her eyebrows
They were
The distinct way
She used to communicate
I learned to read her impeccably
A sudden shift; low drop
Of dark blonde brows
Was displeasure and
Soon brooding
A quirk
Or amused twitch
Meant she liked whatever
Ridiculous pickup line I’d used
Those golden ridges became my
Guide to a mystery
I always tried
To solve
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 8:20 PM UTC
The Revolution will not be pay-per-view,
Streamed online, or listed in the TV Guide,
The Revolution will be LIVE ON AIR
Rush seating No reservations First to come are first to serve
The Revolution will not be monetarily politicized,
the Revolution will be patronized
Next, On the World Today Network: Revolution This Way Comes
The Revolution will not be a mutually exclusive for
CBC, BBC, CNN, YouTube, Facebook, SnapChat, or Instagram
The Revolution is more than digital trolling,
It will be a Counter-Electronic-Magnetic-Pulse
Do you have your passport for the Revolution?
The Revolution is unauthorized
Written for and by all the people
The Revolution is radical, hands-on, and requires assembly
Batteries are not included and there is no manufacturer’s warantee,
The Revolution will be uncomfortable for those living in leisure
For it has been bred to cause the Elite displeasure
Revolution 99% Uploaded
Press [ENTER] key to initiate collective action
~
NM 10/17/15
Dec 28, 2018
Dec 28, 2018 at 3:17 PM UTC
Retailers hope to net profits with the overlapping of holiday seasons.
Thanksgiving is yet to be history; but, out comes the Christmas trimmings.
No big surprise seeing holiday reminders arriving and filling mail box,
comes with pre-season, this early blitz of commercials on tv now the net.
Early arrival of holiday brings bell ringers standing between shopper's exit,
a failure to repeat and repeat donations, brings looks of extreme displeasure.
Each and every time you enter or exit discount, drug, and many retail stores,
shoppers face not only bell ringers; but, 365 days donate at register requests.
Most can't equal billion dollar give aways by Bill and Melinda Gates' circle.
Most work extremely hard and donate but also choose to live on budgets.
I donate and have nothing against charities; but, how much should one give?
Retailers, putting shoppers on the spot, asking for donations upon check out?
Never a pinch penny when it comes to sharing when there's an "actual" need,
generosity is always a personal choice, I let guilt not be my companion in giving.
Multiple donations to canister's of amnesiac holiday bell ringers? Wont happen!
Nothing against legit charities; but, giving until you're broke, you "will" be needy.
Nov 23, 2013
Nov 23, 2013 at 8:04 AM UTC
My thirty year old nephew
is down at Zuccotti Park.
He chants and waves his placards
from dawn to nearly dark.
He's furious the man has got
much more than he has got.
The man works eighty hour weeks,
my nephew? Probably not.
Today he went back to his tent
as it was getting dark
He found his clothing had been robbed
by thieves who work the park.
Imagine his displeasure
Consider his dismay
that someone went and did to him
what he clamored for all day.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 10:10 PM UTC
over a snow-covered mountain top in heaven
some secret river lies
stirring not earthwards
this river of the Gods
and then a prince disturbs
her peaceful ferocity
with determined prayer to cleanse
the sins of his forefathers
Look she trembles with wounded pride!
Not a mere mortal river is she
a Goddess, her anger awakened
but she must proceed
the Gods have asked her so she shall go
but she makes her displeasure known
threatening to swallow all of existence
she follows
the earth shakes
it cannot hold her weight
her power her strength her majestic gait
life-giver, she is now a messenger of death
in her anger she is beautiful,
this world cannot sustain her
only he who wields the trident
can reign in her fall
and then the Mahadev traps her
even as she falls in a mighty torrent
thinking she will sweep him
to the nether regions
in his locks she is lost
struggling, she resembles
the naga around his neck
she spits like a cobra
this immortal river
stays tangled in his locks for many a year
till, defeated and frustrated
she begs forgiveness
and then with his blessings
she trickles down
still furious in pace
but in heart at peace
the mother of all rivers-
this river of rebirth
her sound like thunder
her hair like streaks of lightning
celestial beings witness
the skies are lit
the parched earth satiated
Ganga has descended
as Bhagirathi
- Vijayalakshmi Harish
03.09.2012
Copyright © Vijayalakshmi Harish
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 3:32 AM UTC
Once there was a jungle
Every creature great & small
Was given special gifts there
God, he gave them ALL.
He gave monkeys humor
He gave gazelles grace
But the peacock was quite special
He gave HIM the fairest face!
Now, as with all great blessings
This one had a curse
The peacock... quite spectacular!
But he had an ugly VOICE!
Peacock screeched displeasure!
He spread his tail... and then...
He saw his greatest curse of all
His VERY plain PEAHEN!!
Aug 17, 2019
Aug 17, 2019 at 6:16 AM UTC
Erstwhile, i cared for none
But now i have a promise
To the Lord that i can be
As worthy as a servant should be
The earth is my battlefield
Amid in the evil, wearily i stand
A relentless battle to survive
Trying hard to stay alive.
Each day I'm faced with opponent
In an arena crowded with temptation.
Masters of the dark distort my spirit,
In their deadly game, i am but a pawn.
So weak, i tremble with fear.
This unutterable battle, i am bound to lose.
Lord, send forth thy holy warrior
And save me O Lord, make haste.
He knows my every weakness.
My weakness his console,
But, Lord have mercy on me
For you said "My power works best in weakness."
Permit me as your lowly servant if i deserve,
And send me forth to justify the truth.
Nurture me under Your grace
And i will build in You a strong faith.
As a roaring lion he may come,
But i will stand still and never move.
For i have faith in You Lord
I will rejoice and forever be glad.
Lord, make me wise
That i may know his cunning ways,
Make a shield around me
And wrap me in Your loving arms.
I will watch and pray
Lest i get weary,
I have a life to sacrifice,
A heart to give.
Lord, have patience with me
"O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger,
Nor chasten me in Your hot displeasure."
For i am but dust and You are my saviour.
I will prove to be your worthy servant,
I will honor Your grace and love,
Till the day i hear the trumpet,
In that day, i will greatly rejoice. AMEN..
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
#*Multitudes will be liberated by that recognition;
and although multitudes obtain liberation in that manner,
the number of sentient beings being great, evil karma powerful,
obscurations dense, propensities o too long standing,
the Wheel of Ignorance and Illusion becometh neither exhausted nor accelerated*.
The Tibetan Book of the Dead
translation: Lāma Kazi Dawa-Samdup
Free Tibet your sticker tells me…
Yes, I think, perhaps I should –
and the noble thought compels me,
uninformed, half-understood.
Will their freedom help my Karma?
Upgrade my reincarnation?
(Soul who could not dare to harm a
fly… much less a Buddhist nation.)
Not to justify aggression
by the ever-brutal Commies,
let us grant no glib concession
to the Maoists – or their mommies.
Slogans echo in the void,
shining in bardos of the dead;
stopped by the light, I am annoyed
impatient for the change from red.
A bumper crop of human woe
beams forth a mandate to my brain
while red Dakinis circle slow
in Buddhist hells of karmic pain.
The eastern concepts here diverge
and bow before brutality.
They make this driver long to merge
with incorporeality.
Then I glimpse a monkish fellow
swathed in saffron, calmly seated.
His, the cloud-borne sage’s pillow;
mine the traffic; stalled, defeated.
In his gaze of stern displeasure
I perceive the orient stars
calculating man’s mismeasure
trapped, exhausted, among the cars.
Flanked by Spirits wreathed in fire
he extends an accusing hand:
Western slave of base desire:
come and liberate my land !”
I meditate before the stop light:
am I ready for the task ?
Should I just refuse it outright
Can’t it be someone else ? I ask…
Must I free this mountain nation
from the Buddha, demons and Reds?
Shall your sticker’s declaration
shatter the yoke and raise their heads ?
Somebody ought to free Tibet,
and heed this Himalayan cry.
Maybe we should get upset…
The red light changes. Cars pass by,
predestined for benign events
and unconcerned for persecution;
oblivious to dissidents
awaiting execution.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:14 PM UTC
It starts as a faint buzz in your ears
Then you ignore it for days, even years
"It's no big deal. I'm okay," you say
"It will probably just go away."
But it never did, to your displeasure
You did say "probably" for good measure
And you wonder if that single seed of doubt
Would be how your tomorrow turns out
The buzzing grows louder like the chattering of birds
Prefixes and suffixes, but not quite words
You try to make sense of it, but try is all you accomplish
Your only clue is it was spoken in English
Days rolled by without end
The sounds seemed harder to comprehend
But soon enough, you started hearing a tiny voice in your head
The day the batteries went dead
And you take off the headphones you've been wearing all your life
Surprised to discover a world full of violence and strife
I guess that old saying is true, it appears
We only hear what we want to hear
*But you can hear me now, can't you?
Tell me you hear the cries of the widows and the fatherless, too
This war is a lie; that is all it ever was
And devour our humanity is all it ever does*
*But hearing never really gets us anywhere
Tell me what do you do now that you're aware?
Will you march on the streets and spread the word?
Or will you go on pretending like you never heard?*
*Tell me, tell me, tell me what to do
Good men are dying and we are, too
Open up your eyes; can't you see?
I am you and you are me*
**The voices grew into cacophony
A harsh, discordant sound devoid of harmony
Into a crescendo it roared along with the bombs of war
Slowly revealing to us the monsters that we are**
**First went Little Boy then down went Fat Man
The loudest noise ever created by man,
248 decibels, ending a tale of two cities
And then** ... silence.
Sep 3, 2012
Sep 3, 2012 at 4:10 AM UTC
Growing up
I was indirectly taught to hide my feelings
I was told she was doing it for attention
"It's easier to ignore the situation than stop her"
I was told not to give her the satisfaction
I was told she would stop if I ignored her long enough
I believed my mother didn't care
I was 8
I stopped showing my emotions
I stopped showing my annoyance
my displeasure
I stopped caring
I became reclusive
I hid
I caged my words
I was 12
Writing became my safe haven
Ink bleeding from my fingers
My words were all I had
My soul stayed hidden between the pages of my notebook along with my words
I was 13
My sister died and it was in a counseling session that my mother realized her mistake
One I had forgiven her for years ago
I was 15
If there was anything I learned it was that my words are mine and mine only
Apr 4, 2017
Apr 4, 2017 at 2:09 AM UTC
Why the ****
is seemingly everyone
so ******* slutty?
What the **** happened
to maintenance
of Integrity?
******
for the right words
or for the right look
or the right price
or the right Music
or the *right *****
the most important motivation to many
seems to be *Instant ******* Gratification*:
Please.
Such folly is childish:
Males and Females alike
seem to be equally Hedonistic
and selfishly manipulative:
What dissolute, reckless, selfish
Depravity of Sanctity
hath seized our Minds
with such wrathful, gluttonous, vain, lustful, and self-destructive
Epicureanism?
It seems to me
a Mind of Displeasure
recklessly seeks Indulgence,
and thus encounters overindulgence,
which then leads to overstimulation,
which in turn leads to depreciation,
which then manifests itself
as Debauchery.
Reputation
precedes you;
it follows you
as your social Wake;
Reputation
is the Name
for the Ripples
cast by One's actions;
Sometimes it is mere gossip,
rooted in vile, childish Spite;
but most times,
it seems karmic as ****
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 6:29 PM UTC
step 1: de·ni·al
noun
the action of declaring something to be untrue.
i thought about sending you an email today.
i got through four drafts before i quit.
i haven't talked to you in three months. i haven't deleted your messages in three months. i haven't stopped thinking about you in three months. my heart is still synced with yours. it stopped beating 131,487 minutes ago. please leave a message after the beep.
step 2: an·ger
noun
a strong feeling of annoyance, displeasure, or hostility.
i'm glad you're gone. you were a house but you were never a home for me. i've moved three times since i left.
you shoved your fingers down my throat and left me retching in the snow, excuses tripping on their way out of your cherry bitten lips.
you made me your slaughterhouse, blood on my hands and heart.
i am made of too many things, a conglomeration the size of a galaxy, thirty people sewn into my skin. there is a hole in my chest the size of your fist. please leave a message after the beep.
step 3: bar·gain
verb
negotiate the terms and conditions of a transaction.
(maybe if i had loved you a little less you would have learned to love me back)
step 4: de·pres·sion
noun
severe despondency and dejection, typically felt over a period of time and accompanied by feelings of hopelessness and inadequacy.
i spent more time thinking about you than i ever did about myself. i'm not sure if this is selfish or selfless and i'm not sure if i know the difference. i hung up on you once and you didn't speak to me for a week and i'm not sure if this is love or hatred and i'm not sure if i know the difference. i haven't spoken to you in seven months. please leave a message after the beep.
step 5: ac·cept·ance
noun
agreement with or belief in an idea, opinion, or explanation.
you told me that acceptance was the same as tolerance.
i don't think i believe you.
i haven't spoken to you in twelve months.
please leave a message after the beep.
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC
I walked barefoot on the pathway of life
When I came upon a crossroad;
And at its sight, I let out a sigh
Of sadness and displeasure
For now, I must make a choice
The crossroad looked like many before it
One path was full of light and color
With many leaves falling on the soft green grass
And the other was dark and cold
With many rocks and fallen trees that covered the walkway;
I looked at both and grew quite distressed
Because neither are as they appear;
In past experience, I have taken both
At different times for separate occasions;
Both were quite painful to walkthrough
And ended up making me regret my journey
in life;
The soft grass would ease my feet
Of their burden and pain
But it would make them soft and
Easy to tear and bleed and cause
Me to stop more frequently causing
My journey much delay;
The rocks would bring me
Much pain and make my journey slow at the beginning
But my feet would harden after a short while and
I'd be able to walk with much ease;
But the cuts and bruises still would remain
And I would end up messing my feet up
For the rest of my life.
Both have their benefits
But they also have their consequences
One to punish the weak
And one to punish those who think differently;
So, in the end, I will be in pain from
The decision that I will make;
I tire of making decisions
For no matter how long I ponder
I always seem to make the wrong one;
So this crossroad is no different from the rest
And thinking about it makes no difference
Because I'll make the wrong decision and
Mess things up for myself but,
Alas, I will still sit and think about which course is best;
It might take a second, minute, hour, day or year
To come to a decision that I believe best suits me;
It would be faster and easier to come to a verdict
If I wasn't without a companion and by myself;
Thinking of this choice will take all my thoughts
But for right now I'm too tired and
I think that I will lay down
In hopes that my next breath is my last one
Here at the crossroad, I lie
Dreaming of what would become
If I chose one path over the other;
I have a tough choice before me,
Shall I stay or shall I go?
But only time knows when I'll pick between those roads,
So I must wait until my mind is made up;
But truth is, I wait secretly with much hope,
That death will find me before I choose
So I don't make the wrong choice
And look back with regret at that decision I made
At that crossroad that once stood before me.
Feb 11, 2020
Feb 11, 2020 at 5:56 PM UTC
(1)
I posted a poem
at hello poetry -
and what happened?
Somebody started following me
I received a "notification"
(I can’t say “much to my gratification”)
that someone started following me
I think it went something like:
“Naked Blueberry started following you”
(2)
Oh what did I do?
What did I dodo?
All I did was to post a poem
and not a word from you -
O cruel menacing follower -
not a comment
not an expression of your displeasure
but you started following me
What did I do?
What did I dodo?
(3)
Sure
I may tell bad jokes
and write verse
that daily gets worse
Yeah, I may look ugly like I stole
a look from my fav Mad magazine
and once in a while I say something
about organisations -
but does that warrant you
following me
and transforming me into
a near-nervous wreck?
O Naked Blueberry
what did I do?
What did I dodo -
why do you follow me, you naked stalker?
I lie in bed now afraid
and my wife worries that
I cry out often in sleep:
“Hence, You Naked Succubus -
Follow me not!”
And I dare not approach my car
but after looking under bonnet
and boot and below the carriage
I dare not write a word now
but fear that you and your agents
will follow and stalk me
with ne’er a word, ne’er a warning
At least tell me, please O follower
O Naked Blueberry, O Protean Terminator
O **** Redberry
and all the others in various guises
(I know you guys are all one person,
namely Lily Raw and Ready)
- tell me why you follow,
show me cause of your anger
O what did I do?
What did I dodo?
What should I do?
What should I dodo?
Aug 17, 2013
Aug 17, 2013 at 8:05 AM UTC
One Cuil = One level of abstraction away from the reality of a situation.
Example: You ask me for a cat.
One Cuil: If you asked me for a cat and I gave you a rhino.
Two Cuil: If you asked me for a cat, but it turns out I don't really exist. In the place where you perceived me to be standing is a picture of a large cat. On it's collar are the words: "I am a large rhino."
Three Cuil: You are a cat. You begin to scream, only to realise that you are meowing. You scratch just under your ears and begin to purr.
Four Cuil: Why are we wearing dinosaur outfits? A light breezes rolls over our bodies but you only have one arm. Suddenly, the wind begins to howl and an alternative universe is created where we are dinosaurs wearing human outfits. I have cats for arms, and as you notice this you meow again.
Five Cuil: You ask for a cat; and I give you a cat. Your pull it to your chest and begin to pet it. Your nose begins to run and you wipe it on the cats tail. On the other side of the world a bank is robbed by a woman who has 7 sisters. In her wallet is a picture of you, in your human form. Your ears are pierced in this picture and they were in your human form as well, but something is different about them. The cat purrs and grabs a hold of your earring, ripping it from your ear. Milk drips out of you wound and the lady robbing the bank is arrested. Her oldest sister is climaxing while having *** with my brother. I give you a cat and it is poisonous. I am dead.
Six Cuil: You ask me for a cat. Mark Whalberg tells me he will not **** and he hands me a cat. The cat is smoking a cigarette, I develop liver cancer. I die. The wind blows on you again and the cat does not have a left rear leg. It puts its cigarette out on my eye. MGMT plays softly and you meow to the moon which is a pizza. The pizza has olives on it which displeases you. Your displeasure causes the woman to rob the bank so she can buy you Hawaiian pizza. The gravitational pull of the olives causes a flood to reach your house. You cry and your tears become lakes. The Earth is flooded. Uranus ignites suddenly, engulfing Neptune in flames. A civilization of Nicolas Cage's living there are destroyed. Obi Wan says that there has been a disturbance in the force. A cat hands you me.
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 2:56 AM UTC
Glances shared at infinitesimal instances
trickle up my vertebrae,
blow the dust away
& chew the tin foil for me.
Nonchalantly running a gauntlet
that I designed with architectural
displeasure.
If you absorbed all the gold you've ever touched,
feverishly drank the blood of gods,
suckled the syrup from tangerines
until you blessed a famine,
stole your story from a pack of gorgeous wolves,
or inhaled the whispers of every wise soul
it would still not explain your unprecedented
growth & elegance.
A superlative pressure wave in the eyes of
a politician.
Purely an enigma.
Beauty in the form of human nature.
I truly flourish in this experience.
Jan 8, 2015
Jan 8, 2015 at 9:56 PM UTC
Joe wants to know
how'm I doing?
an innocuous query,
little can he know,
bye bye is my merry,
marooned on a skerry,
noxious fumes in the aerie,
currently inhabiting my foreheady,
worry waves, rolling thunderous tides,
have myself beside
thus the answer to your toll,
something bad, on me, got a hold
Joe,
life is,
more than a tad
concerting
concerting?
surely you meant
converging, or perhaps,
concatenating, or concaving?
discombobulating, or more likely,
plain ole disconcerting?
indeed, all of the above,
fit like a glove,
but best combinated in steaming mug of
concerting
"to contrive or arrange by agreement: to plan; devise"
the world is secret contriving,
the world is secret devising,
a plan for my demising,
forces are concerting re me...
most concerning,
as trends converging,
concave hollow chains clinking,
a concatenating chorus
voicing their displeasure,
at my happy existence,
which now gone,
its loss, wept for, in great measure
life dissing me, in a manner
concerting and dis-concerting,
my composure,
decomposing,
the ides of depression,
hip hop discombob-
(undu)lating throb
but then again,
what's in a word,
what's in a rhyme,
jes that old timey R&B;,
rhyming and blues,
of a verbal kind
so, Joe, how'm I doing?
now that you are knowing,
as men of distinguished letters,
students of history,
part time poets,
Your Reply
must only be:
"Oh no, Natty,
say it ain't so"
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 5:03 AM UTC
Here, now, is the world before me:
Women are struggling to make a living
And men struggling for beer.
The markets are full of drying-up warehouses
And market stalls pregnant with emptiness.
A woman comes in,
Calls the last goods on the shelf, indicating interest.
There are the dying smiles that echo no goodwill
Upon the naming of a price-below-purchasing;
There are the hungry laughters at the teeth of the buyer
Who seeks his own gains;
There are the welling-up tears that fill the eyes of the seller
Who needs the penny to live another day.
Poverty and want wears an ugly face
And gives hate a voice to echo its disdain.
Much displeasure fills the air but in business
The customer always wins.
Pain eats up my heart as I watch the transaction.
Here, survival matters- just as much as love,
But now even this is no more.
Abacheke-Egbema, Imo State. January 2014
Jun 28, 2014
Jun 28, 2014 at 11:08 PM UTC