"dissuading" poems
Grand mamma always told me
Hold your head up proud
And never accept to blend in with the crowd-
Kinna strange the way
I'm parting rivers right now
And how if sitting silent
I'm truly speaking out loud
Long ago and swiftly
Juggling dozens of eggs
Though trying not to split 'em
I tripped up on some pegs
The yoke leaked out
Mixed with the blood
From my head
I didn't whimper yet I knew
My beauty was dead-
But that's how it grows
All you Elaine's and Ed's
Through brazen heat
And tempest sleet
Chewing on led
While inspires cry
And empires fry
That sandstone shifts
And driftwood drifts
Alone I merrily roam
With my for sure's and if's
Never dissuading
The hemispheres
Of my bliss
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 1:33 PM UTC
Ah, Pinocchio--povero burattino°--
Always in a scrape; always in a jam.
The irresponsible, wooden-headed numbskull
Couldn't help but fall for every scam.
A walking, talking stringless marionette,
Pinocchio really would have had it made
In a modest home with babbo°° Gepetto.
But, instead, the foolish youngster strayed.
Ignoring the advice of the talking cricket,
Pinocchio EVEN smashed it with a hammer.
That right there should have been a reason
To throw the little rascal in the slammer.
The Fox and the Cat had no trouble
Dissuading the puppet from going to school,
Thus involving him in a series of adventures
Which often made him look like a fool.
The Fairy tried to be a good influence,
But Pinocchio's lies caused his nose to grow.
Constantly ignoring responsibilities,
The misguided boy, suffered constant woe.
(Swindled of his money, hanged on a tree,
And saved just in the nick of time
From being eaten, Pinocchio had
Too many adventures to fit into this rhyme.)
Fleeing with his lazy school chum Lucignolo
To the Paese dei balocchi,°°° there Pinocc
Turned into a donkey. Of all his follies,
This one had to be a masterstroke.
Once again a puppet, Pinocchio was swallowed
By a giant Pesce-cane,°°°° and then guess what!
The foolish boy was finally reunited
With babbo Gepetto in the fish's huge gut.
NOT until Pinocchio thought about others
And proved he was an honest and caring boy
Did his fortune start to change for the better,
And the stringless puppet became the real McCoy.
Does Pinocchio by any chance remind you
Of any politicians out there at all
Who fail to listen to expert advice
And thumb their noses at common protocol?
And speaking of noses, we can also see
Politicians' noses grow as they tell lies.
Lying to themselves and to others as well
And ignoring our best interests and flouting compromise.
Such politicians--unlike Pinocchio--
Have strings to pull when performing for the masses.
The more they avoid solving REAL issues,
The more they end up looking like *****
They also love--these clever burattini--
To sell a bill of goods and promise many things.
But someone out there--or some corporation--
Is slyly and cleverly pulling their strings.
Do you ever wonder if these same politicians
Ever think about or care how you feel?
Will they eventually--as did Pinocchio--
Prove they have what it takes to be real?
°(burattino/i) - poor little puppet
°°(babbo) - dad(dy)
°°°(Paese dei balocchi) - Playland
°°°°(Pesce-cane) - shark
- by Bob B
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
The universe is an infinite structure.
Our lives however, are not.
Life must end because with no end, there is no beginning.
Humanity is programmed to fear death.
Haven't you realized that we are born to die?
Please, don't perceive this notion as negative or dissuading.
Death allows us to return to our innocence,
Only to be limitlessly reborn in a higher form.
When we die, we are not gone,
Rather we are no longer a single whole.
Every molecule that was in us will be present in multiple forms of life.
It isn't the end of a journey,
Rather the start of a beautiful endeavor.
Oct 29, 2016
Oct 29, 2016 at 1:30 AM UTC
scribbled heartbeats hidden in pages
breath pulsing against the cheek
a heart that thumps beneath fingertips
grass blades breaking under the weight of two bodies stacked
and mouths smacked together
time is irrelevant
the rest are just ghosts
& the world
will slide into shadow with the bright of conjoined lives
the romantics have been pushed to sea
the ***** in our skulls dissuading the heart from leaping
where did the skeptics slink from?
slide back into your passionless tomb
this life is a heartbeat long
and it’s being wasted
on pebbles painted yellow
weigh down your pockets and when you find True Gold
hope that you have the courage to slice open the sleeves
and let the fools tumble out
the aching brilliance of the universes cruel joke
that fear that keeps us from leaping in fully
its a sad slide into lonely suicide
when you find the golden one
hold on and let the Love destroy what you were
and blossom you into what never dies
In the field where the stars turn into roses
come, take a risk
that is no risk
for Love like this is an embrace
that will never end.
Aug 19, 2015
Aug 19, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
Lions of worth
Sheer actual and letting a moon...
Save this last dance for danger
Creation and beckoning silence, come too soon
Throne of sense, a dissuading knot
Persuaded to live in the opus, the chastity
Of courtesy's phantom, a wisdom caught
A wisdom capable of the roses of vanity...
Vantage one (soliloquy)
Threats of privilege, share the land
Sour or dour, the notion to quell, is heed
Stricken with the mores of wishes, the tongue to wonder
Vantage two (espousal)
Worlds of visit, vicinity, and vagueness
Together for a question, in the form of wealth
We see your tomorrow, for today in a mirrors bless...
Vantage three (fulfilment)
Sweeter as us, than you have a right to be
The tongue of vice, a victory of spirits, and solace or lament
Has the voice of harmony, like the very light we seem to eat
Vantage four (escapism)
The terror of repose, that has been divined
Sovereign to forces, with a greater eye, than the silence of despotism
Has reached the known, the curiosity of a simple sigh...
Sign's of the times
Hatred is our reward, no fool without a yesterday
That has, become a terror with us, the saviors of lives
With a solitude we offer is confusion, and the mercy of angels, which may...
Jan 11, 2024
Jan 11, 2024 at 3:01 PM UTC
Every human regrets existence at least once
To the bumbling genius and even the competent dunce
Assuming we live just to meet our demise
Thinking this is hell, humanity must be a disguise
Contemplating a worse case scenario
Like a curse, falling down like a domino
Ripping off hair, skin, even your very own soul
Begetting traits of a meat puppet with no true goals
Yet, even then, we choose to exist
Through tears and fears we choose to exist
When we feel queer, as we smear tears, we we choose to admit
at our lowest point, on our knees we choose to submit
The same emotions that invite us to death are all the same
Those that are frightened by it feel too ashamed
Telling us to jump off a roof, yet dissuading us
bit by bit
Vera Causa and effect, the reason yet the precipice
Our own heart hates us
Yet saves us when we want to dismiss
Maybe it's the birds chirping joyfully
The sound of children ceremoniously
The that of "It'll get better" "It must get better!"
Or that our Death brings a greater regret
Be that as it may, Exist Guilelessly and Free
Sometimes your very constraints are the ones you cannot see
To Be or Not to Be, or answer is yours
To see this life as a blessing, or an arduous Chore
Sep 26, 2023
Sep 26, 2023 at 10:10 AM UTC