"espousing" poems
In pubs with bar flies.
Kronenburg, Becks, Carling, Stella Artois and Fosters,
Dancing in our blood,
Utterly inured; we are endured by all:
The solipsism most profound.
And when Johnnie, Jack and Jameson join,
The sentimental and the morbid
Are conjoined.
And ****
In the custody of beer halls,
The shadows that draw, fade,
And calls – e’en Death’s! -- are put on hold!
No time; instead, before the last, another pint.
For in this hallowed inn,
Drinking what’s in the glass,
And espousing the glow within,
Cares regress.
No woes,
Or loaded psyches,
For when the pressure builds,
The best: a jet of yellow bliss,
Relieves the pain,
On Armitage Shanks' porcelain.
Sep 29, 2017
Sep 29, 2017 at 6:50 PM UTC
1418
How lonesome the Wind must feel Nights—
When people have put out the Lights
And everything that has an Inn
Closes the shutter and goes in—
How pompous the Wind must feel Noons
Stepping to incorporeal Tunes
Correcting errors of the sky
And clarifying scenery
How mighty the Wind must feel Morns
Encamping on a thousand dawns
Espousing each and spurning all
Then soaring to his Temple Tall—
2.8k
I am called a scrooge
as I dislike this greedy
grimy "holiday" of gorging
gratuitously on cookies dipped in mashed potatoes.
People grabbing & gouging
for electronic pop culture distractions
to celebrate the "birth" of a baby
from a lady who claimed to be a ******
Everyone expects something
to be given, pressure permeates
those souls who wait 'till last minutes eve
as laborers looking for reprieves of this
audacious onslaught of wild eyed drooling
consumers
while I shutter at home watching TV's screaming
*Why wait 'till the "holidays"
when you could have gotten that anytime?*
Kids with detailed lists of wants make parents
feel like **** if the money's not there--
traveling to visit relatives the family cares little about
while everyone sends fake happy cards espousing
happy scenes of fireside matching sweaters next to a
tree cut from outside brought in--
a metaphor for the biannual church families
dressed up to sing hymns and drink wine.
So you can call me a scrooge,
or even a grinch,
I don't really give a ****
cause I've been giving gifts
consistently loving thy fellow man.
Dec 24, 2011
Dec 24, 2011 at 2:27 PM UTC
Greetings and salutations m'lady
Thou hast been absent and missed
Most notably thoust smile and
thine choired voice espousing deep longing and
opining of distant and never-presentness
despite opportunity and invitation.
Lulled into sleep by your gently warming coo,
flightless i remain.
Turn, I will again,
'gainst the mournful draw of your beckoning, and slip into
dream, once more.
Cool is the pillow upon which i rest my weary head,
restless is the mind inside.
Tumbled and tossed, like an ocean-dweller upon
crashing waves,
waiting to be heaved breathless
upon your shore.
The fire has been ignited,
flames dance brilliantly around me,
a barefoot saviour, pulling me through
the wet sand,
offering sweet coconut water
and reminding me to breathe.
Twinkle, twinkle million stars embedded in
desolate black woven fabric,
eyes make contact.
Blue-green ocean-farer with autumn-acorn islander.
Universe unravels, and sits aback
allowing truth and impromptu correlations
to take hold.
For this is the work of God!
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
come ever falling summer's moon
astounded of my skull
a timid knuckle espousing glimmering
able digested muck
so shorn of lucky timber; a swelling soul
tingle hard cancer
some dna i cleft and palate gently naked
fornicating dancer
a **** clever imperfect blemish postulating
feminine crank
turn in angles unimaginable
and growl a sun placated ephemeral ***** light
i cup in oral extremal
a cur vy violet lung ; you are beyond every other blush.
Dec 20, 2010
Dec 20, 2010 at 2:28 PM UTC
Amassed an inventory of words, marvelous and concordant, reserved for the late at night, tremulous and tremor shaking, purposed to soothe with honey, milk and cookies, and coax them, the odd ones out, to emerge slowly, oh so slowly, with a magnetic resonance, yank them from their granite tombs, and employ the force of Od to convert them over to their own side, and will not pause, be placated until they are my spring waters, my co-religionists, in grace and kindness, and I will levitate them above us, espousing our collectivity, each a designer, an artist of our gemeinschaft, free to come, free to stay, free to endeavor to clarify and excavate the roots so deep of the thin reeds of their solitary society, to stand up and count yourself linked but incapable of breaking the chain (see my photo) and even though there is nothing new under the sun, let us all remind them, a Seussian refrain, the sun nonetheless will come and clang, invitation engraved, naming you with calligraphic flourishes, a fine poem planted firm in our rooted hands saying:
Welcome child
>~~~~~~~~~<
*God Blesss the Child Whose Got His Own
Billie Holiday / Arthur Herzog Jr.
Them that's got shall get
Them that's not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Yes, the strong gets more
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets don't ever make the grade
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Money, you've got lots of friends
Crowding round the door
When you're gone, spending ends
They don't come no more
Rich relations give
Crust of bread and such
You can help yourself
But don't take too much
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
He just worry 'bout nothin'
Cause he's got his own*
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
there is a glacier
partially concealed
melting from a climactic
climate shift revealing a
reality congealed by revolt
rebels burdened with
a philosophy that
elevates humanity
insisting we will not grovel
before a vain messiah
espousing erroneous
iterations of ideology
will the human race permit
the iceberg to dissolve
as vapid reformist
rhetoric inundates our
political consciousness with
pragmatic progressivism
or will we rise in resistance
with the radicals
fists clenched in protest and
hands outstretched to one
another rather than
lifted high in praise to a savior as we
witness the glacier solidify once more
as CO2 perforates our atmosphere
with heady highs and noxious toxins
will we succumb like dumbfounded
addicts intoxicated by inoculation
consuming the opiated semantics
of charismatic personas or will we
challenge the corrupt
with our wits about us
facing the sobering corporate
corporeality with the pride
of lions facing a den of thieves
abandon the chosen champion
of the vanguard party
we stand hand-in-hand
7 billion
sisters and brothers
in an anthemic chorus of
solidarity that shakes the
bastions of the enthroned
with the resounding shouts of
perseverance in our
non-compliant defiance
our manifestos are written
in the blood sweat and tears
we've shed for this
dream deferred
and we will not be the
silent majority anymore
the masque of anarchy
is ours to share
will we wear its visage
or will hell freeze over
before we choose
freedom
over happiness
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 8:00 AM UTC
fat-backed rat finks
roller rink
kitchen sink
thinking back to Corporal Klinger
and Klingons in small thongs
smoking star ship bongs
in a smelly pond
broken wand only sparks slightly
mightily I try to be
free from discriminatory flees
I sit on the floor and be
quiet as a church mouse
in the glass house built by my
light-skinned spouse,
the louse trounced
pouncing on the bouncing ball
falling into the dousing mall
desert grouse espousing rabble-rousers
in denim trousers
holding perennial flowers
while the gourd towers
bow their heads to the sunset
vetted Reds in beds of lead
break bread with the dead
instead of raking fall leaves
betting on getting let out
cloutless louts just about shout to be heard
and the herd moves forward
every methodically –
May 8, 2015
May 8, 2015 at 5:26 PM UTC
Every poem, comment, an invitation
a lead in, espousing wit
an erstwhile conversation
of a literary fit
Respond and retire
words cleverly commit
more fuel for the fire
not a fail, to quit
Teasing and priming prose
not a challenge, or a dare
assuming that you know
yes, I really care
Feb 17, 2017
Feb 17, 2017 at 11:53 AM UTC
a glass tripod menagerie
set inconspicuously against
the room's only blue wall:
i reached out to touch
the carnival mirror in the east,
splintering its unbaked ceramic surface,
raining shards of pseudo-sunlight
across my back, in my eyes,
in my side betwixt my ribs;
(scene shift)
lying among the poppies of
my younger years, collecting their dew;
i was fed pungent sage cakes
baked by a strange man
named Mordecai, who rants about
gardening techniques, espousing
the spiritual value of tearing
the treacherous heart out while
it still beats, as he prepares
more cakes for the remaining guests;
(scene shift)
in the bleachers, watching old friends
watch a beautiful female athlete
play raquetball with my treacherous
rubber heart, silently glad
that at least she had not
eaten my oatmeal or broken
my fingers off with a car door;
the roar of the cheering crowd
made my ears ring out loud
vertigo gripping hollow chest aching
AWAKE!
bolted upright, clawing in search of the wound, gaspingfranticdiscombobulatedandsuddenly...
calm...
the memory of my eaten heart,
and the look in your eyes
when you did it.
Sep 30, 2013
Sep 30, 2013 at 7:18 PM UTC
men espousing creation,
the creator,
perfect love infinite mercy
a proclamation—vowing to
adhere to the likeness
in which they were fashioned.
so much faith–so much
cruelty.
creatures wearing blindfolds of scripture
justify deeds so appalling in nature,
contradict the wisdom they
promised to preach;
hypocrisy absent its recognizing.
affirming a dusty word’s preserve,
the honesty,
only the deceit of men do they serve,
failing in discerning
the message of spirit secured
in the hearts of those who seek knowing—
impervious to them who
hound to be dominating.
perpetual fear taught by
people with piety painted inner sight shutters,
their words—
plumes of smoke to obscure their own
heart’s flutter.
a terror of
free thought and consideration,
freedom from labels, dogma and doctrine—
the circumvention
of thumbs meant to pin men
to the curse of subjection.
the deduction of right,
appearing an impossible task amidst
an endless sea of polluted virtue.
by the exam of everything so diligent,
the multitudes of faith and
them gripping absence,
might symbiosis prove true—a
mosaic of liquefaction's perfection
in a world where everything is permissible
but not everything beneficial.
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 10:56 PM UTC
Can there be intimacy without proximity?
Empathy without vicinity ?
Can we live without touch,
keeping brothers out peripherally?
No, that path only leads deceivingly
further into living life more miserably
So rather than espousing self-sufficiency
let's discuss band of brotherly
A brother unity that unconditionally
maintains a mature masculinity
A unity revealing a core fragility,
yes - a humility that risks indignity
I'm talking about an increasing capacity
a growling capability
for actual manual connectivity
I'm calling for a comprehensive solidarity
that embraces fierce timidity
You see I stand against living artificially
I'm all for living purposely
Yes, I'm here loudly
Campaigning
Against anyone
Living
Miserably
Sep 7, 2019
Sep 7, 2019 at 4:32 AM UTC
With ever sign espousing the dangers of heathenism,
This cigarette tastes all the sweeter.
I’ll gladly trade another year of life
For a calm head
And a deeper laugh
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 2:40 AM UTC
on the drive home i
spotted an absurd billboard broadcasting
a benign worldview an asinine
sign espousing a single word meant
to inspire endless iterations of hope and
worship in one bisyllabic phrase
believe.
it had a period
at the conclusion
as if this was
the end all and be all
a sycophantic
intonation that insinuated
pseudo-religious proclamations
independent of rational
thought and evidence
a foregone preclusion
to excluding others
on the condition that
they didn't share the
exact same faith
ironically
the billboard advertised a
multi-million dollar company
Morgan & Morgan
a law firm masquerading
beneath the pretentious
pretense of their slogan
For The People
as if they were god's gift
to the city of Orlando
but if they were truly devoted
to the precepts of Jesus i dare say
they'd spend less time gloating
and more time defending the poor
'cause when you're making thousands
of dollars an hour on someone else's
pain and misfortune i somehow wager
the radical rabbi who entered Jerusalem on a
donkey would have a thing or two to say
what would the world
look like if the people
who call themselves Christ-followers
quit spewing sermons on billboards
and focused instead
on their savior's
greatest commandment
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 9:29 PM UTC
If I can see what you can’t see
Then it must seriously behoove me
To reflect back with total clarity
The image I see so readily.
If you could do it, you surely would
And, while I’m sure not everyone could
Maybe not quite so concise and good
As I can, so therefore I should.
This is not meant to be arrogance
Or some kind of verbal flatulence.
It is just a normal happenstance
That drives me to take a chance
And speak my feelings publically
Expressing myself poetically
And even sometimes politically
Espousing social practicality.
It’s the poet’s job to elucidate
To oh so carefully illuminate
And sometimes even exaggerate
The actions of the conglomerate;
The swath of all humanity
And do so without inanity.
Be the bellwethers of insanity.
So applaud the poet gratefully
For the gift of words used tastefully.
Abandon slams like ‘disgracefully’
And take their lessons gracefully,
Because knowing where we err
Separates us from common curs.
Still the harbingers we ever were
It’s not within most poets to demur.
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
replicas oft go on display
reproductions of the real thing
recast in an aping array
ripping off the principle's ring
every now and then they'll be seen
espousing that they're genuine
e'en taking credit for the breen
ergo this be not of true line
verily stealing other's word art
very little conscience do they show
villains are those of thieving cart
vilification we pour on their glow
eyes on the look out always glean
embezzling plagiarist's grotty hands
ever looting original bean
endlessly making phoney grands
Jul 1, 2018
Jul 1, 2018 at 8:49 AM UTC
Droplets of dots my leaking inks espousing like vapor on mirror, dew on leaves my heart dots my love expressions.
Oct 22, 2021
Oct 22, 2021 at 1:32 AM UTC
My English Professor says that I am not that good of a writer. I should have known by all the garbage I lugged around with me. Espousing it here and there. Trying to lighten the load. It's better to accept it I suppose. Not everything can be good. It's hit and miss. If I throw enough **** at the wall some of it is bound to stick. He said, "You can only be as good as the stuff you read." Maybe I should read more good **** Any suggestions? I like to read Bukowski. He says Bukowski is trash. I really don't care what he thinks. I'll be happy with a C. And hopefully, a degree one day. He reads The New York Times and rambles on about politics. I read trash and I don't talk very much. I'm too busy thinking about liquor and women. Usually one at a time or one in particular. I work, go to school and come home to play mediocre superdad or distant husband. I wonder if I'll get that degree. I wonder if I even really care anymore. And if not, then why? Maybe there is some fateful reason for all this. That's what people like to say, "Everything happens for a reason." It sure feels good to think like that. Seems that way.
Nov 26, 2016
Nov 26, 2016 at 11:26 PM UTC
All I need is a whiff
Of You
And I expound a million poems
On bare tree limbs
innumerable theories of multi-dimensional possibilities
I explode into the wind surfing with countless wings
And I sing in languages
I had never heard or learnt before
All I need is a whiff
Of You
And suddenly it's spring
The stark days of empty eyes and
void within
The dark days of drought upon my heart
And blue necrosis of my pen
Are things of the past
All I need is a whiff
Of you
And Like unfinished paintings on a
Rain washed golden coast
Washed clean, shining,
I am a plush new page
aflush with spring
Easily forgotten the eons of glacial silence
I am ready to somersault and sing
A whiff of you
And I spin parallel universes
Always You my emperor & I the empress
Repeats in each world I create
And here I am espousing paeans
Of what's turning out to be of epic proportions
Of orginally my two para hymns
All I need is a whiff
And I know not where and how or even why
these Thoughts come flooding in
And I am rolling out an endless red carpet
of ceaseless verses
To soften your footfall
in my dreams
All I need is a whiff
And I am in eternal spring
I am a tender shoot racing to embrace the sky
A vein of gold - lode, created in an instant
And I go wild I am on a rampage
Waking ravenous
I am a dictionary of hungry cravings
Despite last night's sumptuous fare
All I need is a whiff
of you
And I am a turmoil
All my theories stand de-constructed
My defences dismantled
My spiritual pursuit mis-directed
My lofty claims in dust
I am a muddy urn of unfulfilled desires
A whiff
All I need is a whiff..
------
©SeemaKJayaraman
Seemakj
Mumbai
17 Mar 2020
Nov 18, 2024
Nov 18, 2024 at 9:42 PM UTC
Why do those espousing the most advice
take so little?
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
The moon mentions “You have rules for me”,
laughing constantly
The crown, feathered tomes, a candlelit
Fisher King
Her waltz wanders eyes; War headdress,
Rosemary spice
elect
her neck espousing
Grouse, minerals streaming
My sister posts ambulance ride selfies
WIth a loosened insistence on eternity
Hamearis Lucina, or ‘Duchess of Burgundy’
Dec 2, 2016
Dec 2, 2016 at 9:52 AM UTC
And so begins the witch hunt
of the multi headed snake
eluding to the vagaries
preying on mistakes
Crocodile tears, and pseudo fears
espousing to be a victim
people, and poems, smeared
on it's vindictive whim
In the world we inhabit
let the monsters rave
mayhap the better habit
let them starve, for what
they crave
Mar 2, 2018
Mar 2, 2018 at 10:45 PM UTC