"enfeebled" poems
This morning,
I walked with god and man, and animal
I've come to believe,
no other possibility,
He denies me sleep
as His insurance policy
some One wants to be sure,
someone sees His sunrise poem,
He selected this ancien regi-man
to be His admiring audience,
with deer, squirrels, rabbits, a red fox, an osprey
always complaining, why do they get
the cheap seats
so up at five,
no jive,
gotta get there early,
for a good seat,
on the dock by his name
watch the color blue transgender
from feminine elegy elegant pale
to peacock royal male,
the water,
a contributing editor,
phases in with a steely grin,
with ermine whitecap hints
and an orange marmalade sky homage,
I cannot try to describe
and here is where man comes in...
as the tableau reveals a still life
come to be,
a painting enlivened,
come to me free,
bursting with
effervescence and
animal life tribunes,
paying on...
strange...
my Pandora app
back to back,
plays for me
Gershwin's Rhapsody In Blue,
hard upon it comes
Saint-Saëns's
The Carnival of the Animals
and I
enfeebled amateur,
needy for a
word titan Titian,
can think only
this trite thought:
*I know not who is the
instrument and who
is the
artist,
but virtuous us,
We, all, now-capital-buddies,
now, all, well-color-capitalized,
god and man and animal,
crooning a chorus of appreciation
let this "accidental" miracle,
this collaboration,
enthuse me,
to live happily
with anticipation
for just one more day...*
June 2014
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 6:56 AM UTC
Take this flat, round, stone
I told my son, and daughter too
Throw it hard, spinning it
Across the stilled pond
Count your big splashes
Watch the ripples grow
First stones they threw
Only singular sets of ripples
Then two, then three, then more
Eventually, their stones, with mine
Easily reached the other shore
Splashes, into ripples galore
Ripples formed by casted rocks
Have they lasting print upon
Hearts of those I've loved
Standing now on faraway shores
Gleefully leaping, dancing, tossing
Skipping stones hid in their pockets
Are my stones, living on in ripples
Marked indelible in memories
Cast in mind's marble and stone
A forever legacy or merely
A dimly lit fading thought
In minds and hearts forlorn
Once, when I was young
I knew, I could ripple the world
Now, I only hope a weary rest
To lay burden upon the shore
Enfeebled arm, for slinging stones
Pond's winter death, comes nigh
A bit of time left, of sweet life
To cast a few more stones
Boulders, to toss into the river
Giving the biggest splash
Heavy to lift, except with help
From other believers in ripples
© 2017 Jim Davis
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 6:29 PM UTC
a desolate deception of hopeless self expression
a perceptive inception of artistic retention
is this a conversation?
or a list of movie quotes?
pop cultures ascension to our first world dimension
feel the tension...
feel the pulling of the mind
as we spit rhymes about hate crimes ignored for an episode of Family Guy
is this truly the vision of the revolution of rhythm
cause it seems more like derision or apathetic decision
speaking of dismantling systems when we're all caught up in them
when will we be finished?
when we get off our ***** and take molotovs to tyranny
instead of crying in beer glasses
will that amend the cracks in foundation or just be a punchline
we take breaks in the morning noon and nighttime
and we havent been fine in a long time
with cops murdering and wars being waged
we're more concerned with grocery lines and making a good wage
lets end currency cause its holding us back
and let our abilities have the first crack
spread the wealth of the knowledge of a skill or a trade
help those who are enfeebled to make a way
and do it because its the right thing to do
not because you want a soul indebted to you
property is robbery its as simple as that
so raise your black flag and lets take freedom back
Mar 15, 2015
Mar 15, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
why as a species
have we consistently
empowered the enfeebled
allowed them to lead the way
what does that say about us
when what sets us apart
is our ability to deduce
we need to stop and decide
if we are the right animal
for the top of the food chain
as i suspect we taste
better than we think
Apr 24, 2016
Apr 24, 2016 at 12:44 PM UTC
Was it the proud full sail of his great verse,
Bound for the prize of all-too-precious you,
That did my ripe thoughts in my brain inhearse,
Making their tomb the womb wherein they grew?
Was it his spirit, by spirits taught to write
Above a mortal pitch, that struck me dead?
No, neither he, nor his compeers by night
Giving him aid, my verse astonishèd.
He nor that affable familiar ghost
Which nightly gulls him with intelligence,
As victors of my silence cannot boast;
I was not sick of any fear from thence.
But when your countenance filled up his line,
Then lacked I matter, that enfeebled mine.
1.3k
the less money I make,
the more I give away...
need to get cured,
need me some cure,
to keep my money in
my Persian silk sow purse,
so when enfeebled,
can pay a nurse to
wipe my drooling chin
need me some
curmudgeon herbs
to get rid of this
happy insanity
cure this ****** mudge,
from giving away his green fudge,
so when doing his
sleepy-eyed sums,
the tallying up,
the counting down
did he qualify,
as a good ole one,
his conscience
busy unconsciously,
anudging, adjudging,
to see if the boyo can
sleep better this night.
So when he meets
the maker,
He won't say
hey faker,
but fakir,
magic maker,
dervish swayer
and
*"you my kind of poet,
let's make us some
smiling mischievous trouble,
give away whatever it takes,
love potions number nine,
winning lottery tickets
for everyone,
you and me,
scheming schematic
crazy man poet and god,
to make it happy-en."*
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 3:30 PM UTC
This miracle.
More than once.
Stay up all night.
Troubles, worry, my closest friends.
More than once.
Stay up all night.
Reading your poems.
Wondering.
Why bother.
New names, millions.
Endless, a beach.
Talent that mocks me.
Enfeebled, why bother.
I am ready to say.
Enough.
I am tantalized.
Where come us all?
So much talent to design,
Word combinations that
Astound.
I think.
Never write a sentence.
Longer than five words.
Simplicity.
Modesty.
Let this be your.
Memory.
Record.
There is no place.
In this mirrored world,
Where selves so easy slashed.
For arrogance.
There is no place in poetry.
For the arrogant.
More on this later.
Now, I am knee-floored.
Crying. Begging.
Turned my eyes
To the mountains.
From whence will come
My help?
My miracle?
September 7th, 2013
3:56am
Sep 7, 2013
Sep 7, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC
My eyes saw her
And my heart longed for her
And my lips wanted a taste
Of her seething venom
She was a cup
I didn’t want to pass
Without having a sip
That opened a flesh wound
Only she could nurse
Because it could never heal
And any one I’d ****
For her to be mine and mine alone.
On the drags ov the black wine
Brood from African matured raw dark vines
Bitter sweet and sedating like ecstasy
She anesthetized me
Leaving me numb
To the wound she had inflicted
Upon my heart of flesh,
When I let my
Shield down
And left her sizzling arrow
Piercing my heart
Like a thorn for the holy one
Her arrow inoculated a venom
That enfeebled my trembling frame
As I bled love unafraid of bleeding to death!
I looked deeply Into Her dark eyes
My vision impaired,
High from the venom
And partial hemorrhage.
I said slowly
“What is love? Tell me please…”
She smiled and replied…
“I can’t tell you,
I can only show you
Cuz you have prayed.
Love is a tourniquet
To your heart a wound
I can nurse it for you
That’s why it hurts
If you are wounded
By someone without skill
Some wounds never heal
But fear not
For my love is not lethal
And leaving you might be fatal,
Words can never be love
Only actions can be
Thoughts are useless
If never said or expressed
So don’t be afraid
I will nurse your wound
Because mine is deeper than yours”
Aug 1, 2018
Aug 1, 2018 at 6:14 PM UTC
*the enfeebled voice spoke of hopelessness
the inflamed flesh told of a spirit subdued
shrunken and felled by a creeping weakness
her sightless eyes were a sign of approaching demise
yet she said she would see me in the morning
and next day under the winking sun i was at her mourning
keeping a promise made a long time ago under a cork tree
to sing about the beauty of a true heart that loved well
and how there was a place and a time for sundown trysts
in the world of articulate shadows beyond the endless blue
and there an enigmatic silhouette she waits in expectant vigil*
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 4:11 PM UTC
skin burnt,
blistered and charred,
hair scorched to the
naked flesh beneath.
cracked hands bleeding;
make enfeebled attempt to
obscure disfigured face—
hiding from onlookers' gaze the
shame of such pain.
a world set aflame,
the inferno a scheme
by heat and by
fire, amidst
swirling orange spires,
the landscape through force
taken at desire.
an ape once great,
gentle regality
reduction by immolation,
magnificence squandered,
now moulded to ash,
an animal sacrifice—a victim of
act without consequence consideration,
to appease devilish demand,
the culinary Palm to
grace the malefactor's hand.
nature's innocence course set—damnation,
if not new mind found.
a power,
the fortitude and will
to exorcise this demon—
this demon
known as man.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
I’ve got to pull myself together.
I’m loss.
I’m scattered roughly by the wind,
Back and forth.
I’ve fallen to the ground, and all crows
Are on top.
They’re circling, circling, restless devils,
And don’t stop.
Shhh! Fly away! I’m going to.
I’ve got to restore myself to this body.
It’s the right way.
My body's awkward, enfeebled indeed –
Just get away!
I’ve lived in it, learnt a lot in it.
I swear!
I’ve loved, created, broken and lost, but lived
Just anywhere!
Shhh! Right-on. It’s my body.
It’s time to go out. There’s nothing to do here
At all.
No need to catch emptiness or uselessly freak
For all.
Believe, disbelieve, wait or don't wait
Any more.
It’s time to go out. I don’t want to stay here.
What for?
Shhh! It’s enough! I've got tired of lies.
Feb 18, 2025
Feb 18, 2025 at 3:10 PM UTC
**Pay attention to detail, for as they say
"The Devil is in the detail"
Pay heed to that small voice inside,
warning you to an unseen force.
Don't shrug off the feeling of being watched,
don't put a shiver running through you down as a breeze.
Take mind, that sometimes our sixth sense is our
safety sense. Don't shrug off a feeling, be guided by it.
Embrace it, learn from it.
Modern fast living has blinded our senses,
negated our intuition, enfeebled us to spiritual guidance.
Science does not hold all the cards.
Nature revers life and should in turn be revered.
You return to the earth, our first mother.
And mothers can be kind or harsh,
so observe kindness to all creatures, plants and people.
As above so below. Note that magic and religion are akin: both require belief that a miracle will occur.
And, remember when you sup with the Devil;
Use a long spoon.**
Aug 24, 2014
Aug 24, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
The flesh of which the body holds its form
Objective mass, so grateful, held in debt
And I the glutton, swelled from thinner norm
Destroying each whose faith was lain unkept
‘Tis known to me that life a body met
But I do hold the life therein with scorn
Although the marriage seemed adroitly set
My mind from home is rent, forever torn
Would I could once remove the skin of thorn
Betrayed and jailed, as I indeed deserve
As flesh enfeebled me to acts forlorn
For my misdeeds no tears should lie reserved
That hide were forged of thought would be my will
Within the vaulted mind is beauty still
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 7:24 PM UTC
The agnostic man that feeds the poor , clothes the enfeebled or shelters the disadvantaged shall walk the fields of Heaven someday whether he believes it or not ..For his good works came not out of fear of Hell but from love and kindness , divine works directed from a precious , caring heart ...
Dec 22, 2015
Dec 22, 2015 at 3:05 PM UTC
We set fire to that ****** emotion chart
with nothing but a bic lighter and a gut feeling of revenge.
How dare they try to limit our feelings to a piece of paper,
how dare they assume the tsunami we’ve felt in our chests since we were old enough to understand the words ‘I’m sorry’
can be labeled as simply as
‘today I’m feeling ‘sad’
Today I am feeling enfeebled,
belligerent,
subdued.
impassable;
Today I am feeling words you will never find on a cookie cutter hand out
given to you by your therapist.
We watched the flames grow and destroy those childish faces
in hopes of it feeling something,
it feeling our hatred
or our underlying sadness and maybe then
it would understand that one should be labeled ‘ignorant’
for thinking someone could put a name to a feeling or emotion
and call it good enough.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
I was not prepared for this
My position so flawed
Fatally overlooked
I was not prepared for this
My broad bravado
Now enfeebled
By harsh realization
My situation is untenable
The force against me
Is greater than anticipated
I am called Tiberius
I have sold my foe short
I have little doubt
Of that which brings me down
I came here sure of success
I came to make war
To conquer all that is against me
Yet
My head hangs low with defeat
My spirit is weak
My morale in shambles
I am broken
My arms
Once readied for battle
Hang limp at my sides
My hands
Once armed for war
Now empty and weak
I am broken
My eyes
Once alive with passion
No longer leave the ground
The battle is lost on all fronts
I am surrounded by defeat
I watch as the line crumbles
No match
For the force brought against it
I am broken
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 7:04 PM UTC
It isn't the keys or the bottlecaps
adorned with some image of a deity, that makes me stumble.
Just this month.
Enough.
I've told you all there is to tell
back in place, the lovers helm,
a sickly visage of diner's guilt.
Just this once.
A front.
It isn't carrying things, or the weight I drag about
it's a wonder wheel of intent and purpose doubt.
you've told all there is to hide
back a step, the liar's guise,
an enfeebled glance that misguides
May 7, 2022
May 7, 2022 at 4:51 AM UTC
My eyes begin to tremble
Is this another dream?
Inside my friend, the devil
was lying underneath.
No, it's not a dream
Nightmares never cease
The beast that stood before me
saw nothing more than feast.
A feast consisting of my flesh
and drenched into my blood
My heart enfeebled in my chest
as his face began to rot.
Nov 25, 2019
Nov 25, 2019 at 5:20 PM UTC
Sun, Moon, & Stars /
In The Cabinet of Creation /
Formed to exalt The Cosmo-Plexus. /
Jehovah, did you /
Form all to be loved? /
I believe you did create /
All people to know /
& to love. /
—Love is all, /
Love is beauty, & beauty is love. /
Hearken to the ethereal resonations /
Loveless vore. /
Jehovah is all to some, /
He is my Heaven, He is my Earth, /
He is my Moon, He is my Sun, He is my Sacral Polaris. /
Perhaps a paramour /
Might be fitting to some. /
However, even when loveless, /
I am not enfeebled. /
—I am power. /
(—Se’ lah)
07-26-2025
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 4:01 PM UTC
Some years now, it's been
strange that we still long
for that.
You say you drag me into your private moments
those sessions
in the morning, I don't know what to say.
What to do when castles crumble & walls tumble?
Do the princes and kings build again
or creep to hovels?
Hilltops grow shallow and heads enfeebled
a tiny break when that unwelcome pulse
collides with things forbade.
Quiet morning in reading, a silent house
light avocado curtains lift, fresh breeze
disciple in hot hiding, press a rolling orange.
Dates close and birth on the cusp
Who cracked the twenty tails? Poor sods.
Two calls and the heart lurches, all older now.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 6:12 PM UTC
Dear one,
The trial of your slow waning, is what haunts me like a wretched spirit. The way my dayly moments, that used to resonate with thy invaluable presence are dwindling like a destitute's wealth, renders me a maniac, ridden with an inexorable anguish. What am I supposed to do. I cannot lift these sacks of grief. Enfeebled by a dolour, tis like I'm fighting a lost battle, with a forlorn capacity. Nary a thought grips me still. Thine picturesque glance, the blithe cadence of thine lips, upon which I nurtured and reared banquets of poetry, now tend the flames of a halcyon past, that singes me with a rapacious melancholy. The throes of longing imprison and harass me till I'm cemented within a dank spite for myself, and ruefully discard any smidgen of reprieve. Beloved, I'm a convinced bearer of countless blunders I agree. Mine miserable apologies will only vacate the gasoline of thy peace. But a miniscule opening is all I seek. With reverent hope, I beseech thee. Indeed, for I will become a bane for myself without thy caress to redeem me.
Aug 12, 2019
Aug 12, 2019 at 12:54 AM UTC
I treated her like an empty egg
In an empty nest,
Arrogantly abandoned
In an abundance of aridness
In an undulating desert, deserted
Because I keep an Iceberg's cavity
Where my cold heart could be
Sometimes I was as placid as an Oasis
When I wanted to watch her sip
Or simply wanted something for nothing
And at first she just, simply, let me
...At first
But a few seasons after I'd dumped her
Onto that yellow fallow tundra
She transmuted simple sands into surplus glass
Fashioned fragile featherless wings!
Of forest-green, glittering
Falsely!
Shimmering, she
Forecast her own futuristic flight
What in the world was she thinking?!
We ALL know that I...
--and life--
Would never let her leave me like that!
Who else would ever lend her a sip?
Ah! It's hard to think with nothing (sips) to drink
But the oasis sat empty when I next witnessed it
The void vaster whenever I've visited it ever since
Someone, Come! Look!
Can't you see this vacancy in my chest cavity!?!
This is crude, cold-pressed evidence!
That cryogenic hearts CAN hurt
Do break! Do care! Do love!
Ain't no cure that can counteract that fact!
Still, there is a slim chance things will sting less
Once I've selected my next egg
And fabricated a new enfeebled nest
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 2:41 AM UTC
*Condensate trickling neath the noontime pines
Tis the very wine of creation
Returning to a famished earth
Soothing the parched , nourishing the ailing -
and the sylvan floor enfeebled
Winter blades cascading from hardwood canopies ,
of every configuration , texture and hue
Madrigalian forest of a thousandfold , songs of cardinal ,
thrasher , bluebird , peckerwood and robin
Hickory , beech and loblolly undulate along -
the carpeted valley in November's artistic implosion
Broomsage under breaths bidding , dancing red tip grasses
and muhly , wild onion and sage in sacred midday communion* ...
Nov 14, 2017
Nov 14, 2017 at 7:54 PM UTC
Corpus as told by Jesus of Nazareth , in question
When bread molded , water dry , rendered enfeebled ,
Tis fable for hungered , emaciated , ill of mind as scavenger
surely must eat his own kind , temptation breed thirst , serenity
without regard to salvation ?
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 1:36 PM UTC