"elocution" poems
Stumbling into ancient scripts, authored a decades plus ago,
ago being a modifier of time quantities, minute or large, unspecific
without an objective adjective additive, that faucets a stream of an interlocutory elocution of a batter of rooted emotional histories,
but not histrionics
fanciful words for dredged up memories, acute, but tarnished,
powered yet worn by a cousin of ago, a/k/a,
age
and yet
renews as of,
at this very second, as if it were a first, a tumult of visions, swelling of remembrances, embodied scars, and I weep anew but not
for me, as much for the resonating simpatico souls with whom
they even now vibrate with resonance of the immediacy of
If not now, When?
Aside: The exterior environment is noisy wet pelting of thunderstorms and ****** sheets of bulleting rain, piercing projectiles, but I am safe in the sunroom, sadly happy my dog is no longer here to shiver and tremble, cuddle and be soothed by steady stroking
But I am here, wrestling with this dredging operation, digging up
tons of sand that require dumping, and I ask, inquire, beg:
Who will take this detritus off my hands, once more, now uncovered,
now recovered, the soil is already soaked and can absorb no more,
the soul is already soaked and can absorb no more, the weakened
heart, damaged and occluded, suffer cannot bare twice the
outrageous misfortune
of unbared recollections, twice, or thrice, and I feel myself drowning in revisiting pain, **** **** **** these old poems, not nuggets, but boulders dropping from night skies, shot from a pitching machine, without letup, piercing of agonies that once ago
freshly desecrated and decorated my basic training in humanity.
Enough whining:
*I wrote those poems to
eject out those pains,
and I write this now, once more,
to realize that so so many still face
uncertain and unrelenting similarities,
doing their own sums,
and I wish them easing,
strength to compose and
thereby dispose of
the ineloquent
and eloquent
words of staining suffering*
3:30am
Thur
July 10
2025
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 5:39 PM UTC
Love's the boy stood on the burning deck
trying to recite "The boy stood on
the burning deck." Love's the son
stood stammering elocution
while the poor ship in flames went down.
Love's the obstinate boy, the ship,
even the swimming sailors, who
would like a schoolroom platform, too,
or an excuse to stay
on deck. And love's the burning boy.
3.3k
Scale the walls of knowledge, if you will, my Western friend of ambivalence.
But, before we leap into the crevasse of botanical diversity, it is important that we understand that the smoke reveals beings which traverse physical paths of obscurity.
So, we must relax and give careful attention to the details with which we presume to be confronted.
Interpretation is a concept that reminds me of chocolate-covered mint fondant.
It is all in the power of the suffix, don't you think?
Jan 20, 2014
Jan 20, 2014 at 3:03 PM UTC
Brevity is suited for the ******
Elocution can be twisted into a knot,
and used for courtly euthanasia.
Brevity is best used for condemnation.
Concordantly, circumlocution is perfect for the panegyrics,
of that same party.
So if your the ****** or damning keep it brief;
no one wants to hear a fool trip over his words,
or a liar sing praise of his foe.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
If you were to venture across the forceful shelf of societal direction, would you succumb to the currents of the majority? Right now, I need to take a step back into fresh perspective as I give consideration to my deceptive impulses.
A New York cheesecake is surely seductive in her decadent and caloric beckoning. However, English sausages are not dissimilar, my opinionated guide of presumed health and well-being. So, take a hike over endless moors of serial-killer familiarity, because I offer myself upon the altar of elocution.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
do guilty flowers ever sin so savage
as the current elocution of cells
erecting a magic ***** on the saturday
saturated morning she drew
her
lacy clutch 'bout my sinew flecked
artifice
hips2hips
i
give her this: ME
May 14, 2010
May 14, 2010 at 12:38 PM UTC
i loath that educational poetry that's intended to address you with scold or searching for a higher tier of morality, there are poems like that out there (rudyard kipling e.g.), with educational / instructional overtones in the way they're written, i always wonder though: did the poet remember the idea of solipsism and writing the poem as if to himself, a note to self, rather than for others to peer into the poem and learn something?
that's the thing though,
i'm a child of immigrants...
actually an immigrant
myself... no, wait, let's do
what the higher tiers of society
call it: i'm an expatriate,
a child of expatriates -
and they still talk with an accent,
me? self-taught english
from the age of 8, retained my
mother tongue nonetheless,
speak none of the two tongues with
an accent, unless i want to,
a friend of mine introduced me
to a greek cypriot, lovingly ridiculed
me as posh... and let me tell you,
sounding posh in essex is hard to do,
i admit it would be harder in
scotland or east london, but essex
is still a hefty mountain to climb -
it's like that crass joke i heard in
the edinburgh comedy club i used to
haunt once a week...
a guy stands up and with a mighty grin
announced himself with over-stressed
elocution: 'you might recognise my accent
(i.e. denoting where he came from,
a great conversation starter on these
islands)... it's educated',
and that really crushed the hazelnut
in his **** -
well if it was a woman telling the same
joke, it would be a crushed hazelnut
between the legs - missionaries
in positions of ardent prayer
and christmas wrapping paper -
because a woman's strength in the leg department
is like the lips of oysters, or any over shellfish
for that matter - insects of the deep blue
(exoskeleton).
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 3:16 PM UTC
*indeed the english do not trill their r
but simply curl it
(a bit like having a lollipop
stuck in your mouth and saying
something) - certain feats of elocution
can't be taught, they're a bit like
working out on your forearm muscles in the gym,
and indeed the tongue can be the cynical muscle
defying a methodology of weaving in
a chameleon presence into a host society.*
and do you know what hell i had
trying to teach one of my cats
to **** into the toilet
and take a **** on the tiles?
a shout when she did both on the tiles
and then petting her and ushering in
soothing words while she did
no. 1 into the toilet and no. 2 on
the tiles... i mean **** i can pick up
off the tiles, bleach the area and forget,
cleaning both **** and **** off
the tiles made my gag,
at least human excrement can suggest
it's sweet, and we're all solipsists
liking our own stinks - sound proof -
take your **** into a public place
and the theory will stand about
2000 years that you'll be the sole
appreciator of your own stink -
and that memory of me being a kid,
i used to do the same, take a ****
on the bathroom tiles, and when i finally
started using the toilet at first i was
actually perching on it / crouching on
as opposed to sitting on...
mind you i did suffer from a hernia
when i was a toddler... what's hernia?
well, the mighty internet is here, check it out.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 10:07 AM UTC
i told you, the most volatile substance,
auto-combustion:
let's see:
the (ν / v'eh point) - touch on elocution,
almost δ'eh point -
but then the oddity: thievery -
hence coupling θ and φ,
well s and z (hardly an ß)
might also make a hush sh sh sound
for the eyes to spot with a şiş kebab being served
(kebaab if you're talking africān - prolonged
on dentistry's dire inspection) -
no diacritics and many eccentricities -
many accents, and a bowler hat at the
royal Ascot - peacock feathers to a flutter
ooh! firewood for the comedy scene -
the / d or v? veering point or the deepened
point? thyme - now that's a solitary τ (tau),
well, many more examples! ha!
thighs and thievery - theta cheese -
thrombosis - that - now that's definitely armed
with δ - thermometer - thick -
in-between scotch fudge - thinking -
throw - viably also famished - invariably
also alphabetically accounted for as: thrice -
and phosphorescent - pucker up now dear,
no point calling jane austen right now,
it's too late: better watch the jane austen book club,
now that's a great romance movie -
serious though, ah, there you have it,
though rather thought - another eccentricity
to curse periodic examples to rule:
vogue in that though - feta cheese in that latter -
no one dared to say: i vote, deer fur i am -
imagine that said in Chelsea or Camden -
you'd never get rid of those crack ******* junkies
following you to Waterloo shouting:
'we've found Napoleon! we've found Napoleon!
Napoleon! Napoleon!'
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 1:50 PM UTC
You can sing it to the tune
Of I Shot The Devil,
But I totally did it
Strictly on the level.
No, I didn’t know it when,
For another night of ***
He asked me to his den
Under the spell of some hex.
It was like he was to me
The hottest guy ever seen.
He was built like a star
His hair had a fine sheen.
Body and face were fine;
Toned and masculine.
I’d never seen him before
Though I had often been.
He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.
We met in a bath house
On Melrose, West L.A.
And somehow that night
Things seemed to go my way.
He gave me the eye
And I returned it in full.
I am fairly certain that
We both felt the pull.
It was all about debauchery
And he was calling the shots
Making me see I got stupid
Whenever I got that hot.
I let my **** do the thinking
And he seemed glad to show
That I would flirt with danger
And then, not even know.
He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.
So, I went back for seconds
At Hedda Hopper’s apartment
Across from Mae West’s place
Fueled with no armament
To protect me from what
Would turn out to be, for me
The scariest ****** encounter
In my busy, young history.
We were doing the deed again
But this time things had changed.
His appearance began to alter
Into something scary and strange.
His canine teeth grew longer
And his body turned fiery red.
I quickly dressed and left that place
And stumbled back home to my bed.
He used his elocution
And handy circumlocution
Better than a Rosicrucian
Sentenced to an institution.
He could twist the moment
Out of a frenzied foment
Then to a crazy torment
With muted arcane comments.
Jun 9, 2015
Jun 9, 2015 at 1:45 AM UTC
is it you – too?
the scratch of skin
blood under nails,
fighting the phantoms
and scratched back in couplets
through flesh onto bone
words inside, words out
is it you, love?
who has me choking on verse
spat with toothpaste and blood
tucked into an unwatched glass
and drunk
until birdsong flows
Oct 9, 2015
Oct 9, 2015 at 7:50 PM UTC
Expatriated.... silence swallows whole,
enunciated expression:
Fists pummel at an empty sky.
A voiceless scream tears anaesthetised night.
Who needs gravitas,
what piety awards accolades;
why strike a solemn clarion
where dignity and virtue fail to roam,
when last breathe approaches?
How can we repatriate orphan, edulcerate elocution?
Feb 8, 2015
Feb 8, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC
and sitting in the corner of a blessedly quiet McDonalds that is so old they haven't changed their booths to be uncomfortable to sit in, yet and wearing a black dress suited for vamps,
tarnished serpentine earrings whispering in my ears
not yet not yet not yet
speaking also to the stolen ring in my bag
that I am not yet a bougie eccentric
made to burn money and carry cigarette wands
and travel to tangier and have a little exotic pet
until I become more educated, eloquent, work on
my elocution until I am someone, who's someone
that deserves and has the gall to take, and possess
the world's most most beautiful blue wolf fur coat
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 3:43 PM UTC
I
*In the course of time
Defects commence to notice:
"Once, it was a hero"
Begins to melt
"Once, it was worshiped"
Starts to fade
The desire to be at least half
Becomes a mere illusion
The grief of starting from zero
Not be just a fusion, (I laugh), for
I am my own hero*
II
*An eternal dilemma: head or heart?
Life experiences repeat themselves over time
Look back, not with nostalgia, but with lucidity
Not to retell the same mistakes, that's stupidity
Rectify the defects, but don't be a mime
Head or heart?
These desires of a distorted mind are such strife
Those promises for life are barely a rind
It's as soon as you get to the point of no return
That you realize the fantasy must burn
Head or heart?
Use the head is an art
Using the heart in the right stead
But use them both is my oath*
III
*I come from a quiet little town
But I was never the type of let me drown
Lose and gain accents has always been my thing
So bring me the king of seek that we may sing together
That the best man win.
See, without knowing whether all or nothing
Write, until I have abraded skin, so when the time comes
The tought living at my fingers will shut
Sing, bright or heavyhearted
Feel the beat of unchearted drums
Yell by choice until lose my voice
Murmur lower than a subatomic bell
Until gain a tragicomic muse.*
***The elocution of my brain has no dues
For art is a perpetual evolution.***
Mar 22, 2012
Mar 22, 2012 at 9:50 PM UTC
Watch who you alloy WITH/
tools you employ WITH/I emphasize
WITH/
no exaggeration/
emphatic to their exasperation/
no caption no captain all to captivating
verbose elocution what? verbose?
what ever
You write doesn't become rote/
the execution of the elocution of the words that Were spoke/
problems arose oppose deal with them aplomb/
synchronizing with flows currency is then what becomes/
electrifying with these verbs action astound/
pound for pound every now and then do a thing with a noun/
pronounced or
yet possibly you haven't notice/
surmount the insurmountable couldn't count the posers/
when most fake it you get most focus/
internalize their emotion fuel the fire ferocious/
fandom analogous?
non comparative/
A new style I guess/
tandem me and 26 The Narrative/
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 11:51 AM UTC
I want to see lady to ladette
set in Baltimore
with Omar teaching drug theft
with the finer points of gun cleaning
calibre selection and event planning
as his curricula.
I want Jimmy and Bunk
teaching the dos and don’ts
of alcohol intoxication
the art of shot and stubbie mix
the singing and drinking anthems
to stir the blood
and the strategic gutter chuck
before the final whisky chaser.
I want those girls out on the corners
playing police bingo
speaking drug lingo
and developing their drug-fuelled irony
of WMB, the Icicle and Pandemic.
I want Clay to teach them elocution
and elongation in the word “Shiiiiiiit”
I want Avon Barnsdale to teach them gangster codes
of respect on Sundays for stoop people
and Sunday crowns
on everybody’s grandmother.
I want Kima to discuss sexuality
and the Other
I want them to talk change and reform
with Cutty, Colvin and Prez.
Daniels will show how love and loyalty
can be made to work in reality.
And I just want
I only want
Stringer
for myself.
© M.L.Emmett
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 9:34 AM UTC
only English has disgraced itself, as a language,
it didn't learn from it's other Latin
orthographers, whether french or german,
just didn't learn from them,
i mean, English, the language,
could have started improving its style,
its orthography, adding accents, here and there,
improving elocution, it's worth the
particulars in harbours, ironically it isn't
a universal language, there are no universal
instances in using it, there are plenty
of particular instance that do require stresses
and other such involvements,
but the six brothers dreamed up too much
technology prior, the Grand Father of the Empire
split the cabbage patch between the five brothers:
gave much to the American son,
much also to the Australian son,
much also to the Canadian,
the South Africa got a part of Europe from the 1940s,
the Caribbean son received a pretty sunset,
the English son got ****** in the ***
and given what the newspapers are covering
i'm really sceptical while only children migrants
are welcomed... ********** the tournament
of who can shove an ice-cube into a teenagers
*** to make **** *********** seem cool?
really sceptical while the prime minister only
wants children... come, you following-up
the hot topics in british journalism?
but like i said, the one chance the English language
had to improve itself, to succumb to the
judgement of the preservation of the Latin via
a - z was to add diacritical marks, instead the internet
emerged and we simply got an Eaton mess...
look how mishandled English is among the young!
omni acronym omni short-script,
omni dyslexia,
lazy lazy buggers... while the Germans are fiercely compounding,
Rindfleischetikettierungsueberwachungsau
(law delegating beef label monitoring) - now let's
do some syllable surgery on it to get a tennis ball
bouncing rhythm:
rind' fleische' tikettierung' sueber' wachungsau' -
or thereabouts in Pomerania - and the French
such hark rather than trill Rs and produce excess
spelling via tongue ties upon tongue ties
(every time i hear it i just hear bubbly blue
bubbly blue bue bue and Moulin Rouge cancan) -
English is shrapnel, empty pistachio shells in comparison,
and yet still the internet proved how ugly
things became... *** LOL (e.g.); and yet i'm
finding it the most effective language for volume.
May 6, 2016
May 6, 2016 at 4:37 AM UTC
My story of us
Of a clock blonde ticking
Counting the sheep until apocalypse
A simple verse would not suffice
Nor would a complexity borne of years.
A deluge of elocution,
Remembrance drowned.
The fickle combination of
Llamas and lambs grazing
In my backyard alongside other
Metaphors.
The llamas wear glasses sometimes
Anguished intellectuals
Locked up in bedrooms
Chained to porches.
Their advice is good
Their words wise and thoughtful
Themselves, ****** up.
Ink stained tomes littering desks.
Nail bitten fingers clinging to pens.
Red veined eyes squinting at parchment
Words given life. But to follow ones own advice?
Rare is the joyous bespectacled llama
Bestowing wisdom onto the sheep
Watching them frolicking on the lawn
Trying to find rhythm in gangly legs
Urgently, awkwardly alone.
Mar 29, 2018
Mar 29, 2018 at 8:32 AM UTC
T. Ronald Dump
Thought he had a jump
On all this messy "prezzy" biz
Which took us to the precipice
Of our national destruction
With one skewed election.
A **** with bad elocution
Is in charge with no solutions.
A fool got elected
Now we are all unprotected
From taking a journey
Turning this into **** Germany
Because he knows well
That in a short spate of hell
He will make tons of money
And he finds that so funny.
Meanwhile we are dying
And without any trying
He will take a great thing
And leave it gasping
For that last healthy breath
While he watches the death
And with one of his ugly sighs
Blames it on the other guys.
Those of us who are old
Needed heeding when told
That this was very ugly old news.
We saw it happen to the Jews
The intellectuals and gays
In the not so distant days
Of scary World War Two
And now it will happen to you.
T. Ronald Dump
Thought he had a jump
On all this messy "prezzy" biz
Which took us to the precipice
Of our national destruction
With one skewed election.
A **** with bad elocution
Is in charge with no solutions.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 7:08 PM UTC
I would want you to have these machines
breathe for me if I forgot your name
and spill memories back into the blank spaces
from which you ebb and flow, going home –
because it could not have been I who
destroyed the person that I require so close.
In every language, I love you
and te amo
and je t’aime and
ich liebe dich and jag älskar dig and miluji tě:
let your city flood my insides, then bleed.
If I could, I would shout from the moon
to make sure the other men know I love you
and though they are beautiful,
their names do not matter nearly as much
to my brain, nor bring goosebumps to
the small of my back and top of my bottom.
My ******* fill your shirts just right –
they do, they do.
I am meant to be inside them
and you are meant to be within me, like air
******* from a windpipe to areolas’ pink.
I would throw my head forward like I do
when I am sad and settle in your lap
entombing my five senses in an aroma of love
we just made. I would lay myself in that
coffin again and again until I recalled
the exact elocution I used to form your name.
Feb 9, 2013
Feb 9, 2013 at 2:44 AM UTC
Finality in sodality
I can't believe this is happening
it's happened,
Once or twice before but
its getting easy to ignore
The folklore behind said words:
Noise of fidelity in the thick of empty echoes who whisper “resolution”
Elocution for the pollution of picayune particulars
Skip the singulars;
Trip the light of day under the sundry array of the mistakes you play everyday
I suppose
some songs will always be sung
Hung tongues from foreign beaches
Within reach, you said, all the time, but
I wouldn't be here
i shouldn't be here
(I wouldn't be finding the time)
i shouldn't be trying so hard to catch a rhyme
Apr 19, 2013
Apr 19, 2013 at 4:43 AM UTC
Was it not I
Who tried to die
Nine
Lives
Three are spent
And here I lie
My third grave.
I fell slave to love
To behave
Elocution by electrocution-
See my eyes
Touch my hair
I may breathe men for air
But mine eyes
Have seen the light
To the unenvyable cry
Of my plight
Slight of hand;
What a trick it is to die.
Maggots feast upon my eyes,
I would've rather burnt:
Little jew, little jew
What has Herr Doktor done to you
Chimney stacks
Bellow black;
I do not do
I do not do
The black shoe
I've been living in
For nearly two years of suffering
My ailing mind
Blind to happiness.
deranged:
A form of estranged from reality.
For now I fly
High as a vulture
Hung in the sky,
The Zoroastrian carcass
Beneath my circle;
i cannot die,
Without that vulture
A phoenix become
As bright as the Sun
And I will never die
Cheated of six lives
it is not fair
so yes
i eat men like air.
Nov 27, 2016
Nov 27, 2016 at 8:06 AM UTC
As far as I can see, elocution and declamation
Thee this and thou that
Whence and wheresoever
Isthmus and anemone
Vitriolic and Diatribe
Bloviate and aplomb
But feeling has no discrimination.
Rococo words are not needed
Simply put is just as good
Too much icing makes a cake too sweet.
Bon appetit
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 2:01 PM UTC
I was late for school but it was cool, my chauffeur took the wrap
I even blamed the butler for the absence of my cap
My cravat was always crease-less and my slacks were really snappy
My shoes were always shiny, which made my pappy happy
Lesson one was cookery, but not for me today
So I sent our chef, an hour ahead, to make a nice soufflé
He usually does a marvelous job or when his mood permits
For Daddy signed him on a whim, after dining at the Ritz
Lesson two was Polo or Gymkhana if you must
So I chose fresh clothes and donned my hose as Polo’s upper crust
Oh I wish I’d brought my pony for the school ones just won’t do
They are barely fit for peasants, they are barely fit for glue
Morning break was late to take and the Polo match was drawn
But if you pleased, they’d bring cream teas to be taken on the lawn
I really didn't fancy Maths, so I stayed and sipped my char
For who could bear, and hour with Blair and his dreadful algebra
Lesson four was falconry with Mr Preston Love
His birds were plump but deadly and so quick off the glove
I loved to watch them soar and dive, a spiffing show for all
Reminds me of my gap year, hunting foxes in Nepal
Lesson five was cancelled as Mummsy wrote a letter
She felt that English won’t suffice and elocution’s better
So Wilson rolled up in the Rolls and whisked me off to class
I hope tomorrow’s much improved, for today was oh so crass
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 9:07 AM UTC