"execute" poems
my mind is
a big hunk of irrevocable nothing which touch and
taste and smell and hearing and sight keep hitting and
chipping with sharp fatal tools
in an agony of sensual chisels i perform squirms of
chrome and execute strides of cobalt
nevertheless i
feel that i cleverly am being altered that i slightly am
becoming something a little different, in fact
myself
Hereupon helpless i utter lilac shrieks and scarlet
bellowings.
68.5k
672
The Future—never spoke—
Nor will He—like the Dumb—
Reveal by sign—a syllable
Of His Profound To Come—
But when the News be ripe—
Presents it—in the Act—
Forestalling Preparation—
Escape—or Substitute—
Indifference to Him—
The Dower—as the Doom—
His Office—but to execute
Fate’s—Telegram—to Him—
36.9k
There are people who
Love to participate in meeting
And make storm and dream
in their deliberation;
But vacillate
For coming down to ground
And execute;
They are called as meeting brawny!
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 4:13 PM UTC
*In the land of love and hurt
Life holds no reason for what we gain
The love of hurt
The hurt of love
They come in a pair
So please beware
We hurt the ones we love
We love the ones we hurt
We execute our hurt for love
yet
Surrender our love for hurt
We try to sweep our hurt under the door
yet
We let our love fall between the cracks*
Mar 10, 2015
Mar 10, 2015 at 4:57 PM UTC
zelle ma belle
(zelle is an interbank system for sending cash in an instant to someone else’s bank account)
sent her an unexpected $250,
at 4:00am, of course,
a check-plus for her life,
because she revel reviews her day at school,
as special person day, teaches them well, and
anointed, appointed unsolicited confirmation by them
“as part of our family”
how they crave her body, her touch, at scary movie parts,
her kitchens diner size menu,
her refusal to ever disappoint,
her candy drawer supreme,
her crayon color visions which they execute,
her zen sense of their moods,
and for me,
for calling them without hesitation
my grandchildren
indeed more here hers than mine
she asks me why the $$ and poet doesn’t lie
but thinks quick at 7:30 am while bed prone,
“you won Nana of the Day award”
the only (grandparent) on the floor with two kids in her lap,
for the magic show,
all the rest,
benched, chattingly adultry things
she thinks on it and says
“ok, I accept!”
p.s. also, I have yet to inform her of the (my) elimination of a
crystal champagne flute while doing my manly cleanup from Friday night lights dinner pink champagne celebrating
le weekend’s arrival
olp
Apr 21, 2018
Apr 21, 2018 at 8:33 AM UTC
Every action has its consequences
Bound to a fate of its own
We choose an action by choice
Informed or under compulsions
Wound in a complex circle
Once we knock the door with uncertainty
Fate is there watching over us
Given the task to execute the action
Awaiting the consequences as remuneration
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 6:41 AM UTC
It's a dance
It really is
Skip and prance
Lifelong practice
Loop of songs
Never ending
Of various genres
Life is playing
There's the spotlight
World is awaiting
Pressure of eyes
Silently watching
Take your place
Assume your position
Execute with finesse
And flawless precision
Spin your pirouettes
Don't get dizzy
Maintain your poise
In this revelry
Along comes a partner
Present as a duo
The game now altered
From when you were solo
Two bodies now
Move in unison
Reciprocate and reply
Through steps made in heaven
Flighty feet
Intertwined bodies limbre
Sweet little performance
Elapsing into forever
With grace of ballet
Each other you'd catch
Intimate display
Think you've found your match
There'll come such time
Both will not be in sync
Episodes of missteps
Push you to the brink
Alone again
Or switch of partners
Find solace in groups
Still dancing for answers
Dancing with others
Much you can learn
From hip hop to the waltz
Together or in turn
Try to adapt
To different styles
Soak up all you can
May take a while
I've danced all my life
Can't say that I've mastered
Fair share of jeers
And accolades I've garnered
Always clumsy
Exceedingly awkward
Tripping and falling
Barely proceeding forward
It's just this dance
One with syncopated beats
It's just this prance
That my gait can't meet
It's just this stance
I often use as retreat
I realised in a glance
That I have...but
two left feet
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:36 AM UTC
he said/begged,
make love to me just like a woman!
kiss me toe to head, linger on my neck,
trace my waist, begin at my lips, pause at my hips,
quibbles intersperse, quips and licks on eyelids,
nibble me, near me, close and closer yet
unto the glorious victorious near death experience...
whisper me sweet everythings
before during after and over again,
when you must pause to exhale, blow all their warmth
upon thy fingers and bring that warmth inside
Columbus
me with tongue and eyes,
take me slow then again,
even slower, for thy pleasure,
than execute summary judgement upon me
falsely accept, then deny, deny, deny
my every appeal to
oh my god
for anyone's mercy!
adjudge me then guilty yet again,
and to the tower take me
to drown in mine own lashing lamentations,
thy incontrovertible evidence,
mine own uncensored revelations
execute me twice,
slowly, goodly with lengthy and lovely measures
*she said, and so I shall, eventually,
do what you beseech, what you most excellently seek
but you may recall, somewhat earlier, I called out
shotgun
so you must start my dear by following
all the precise driving instructions you just stated,
and bring your GPS^, and, oh yes,
I'm waiting...*
too wit and sod this!
he gruffingly huffingly, hurrumphingly, replied,
*all hell and damnation,
treat me like a woman just once pity-please!"
*can't can't can't -
she be-witchingly cackled!
then sang to me the lyrical words of a
Nobel Prize winner!*
"***You fake just like a woman
Yes you do, you make love like a woman
Yes you do, and then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little boy**"
Sep 27, 2017
Sep 27, 2017 at 6:09 PM UTC
Arrange communication, over.
Roger, Out.
Inform the Chain of Command
Contact the Chaplain
Execute a satellite uplink
Notify the next of kin
Start the phone tree
Make the arrangements
Honor the deceased
Comfort the family
Pray for the soul
Nov 12, 2011
Nov 12, 2011 at 2:00 AM UTC
The new day still saw the man
Whose livelihood was rubber.
He had worked really hard; earning his darkened tan,
He was the plantation's tapper.
The evening sun had long set
Leaving the plantation in a shroud of darkness.
Relying on what little light the moon would let.
He treaded carefully; sidestepping potholes and jutting buttress.
His sack slung over one shoulder,
He found his way to his trusty ride.
Nightly routine he would execute over and over
Mounted his bicycle and rode off with the moon as guide.
All day long, he had been thinking of the night before.
He had then learnt that he was the target of a ghostly trick.
As he cycled, he got worked up, more and more...
He cursed the spirit who had made him the fool so quick!
As he looked ahead, straining his eyes to discern the sandy track.
His eyes caught something that came within sight.
Standing by the side against a background of black.
There she was again...all garbed in white...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
There is a pear above me
hovering reluctantly.
It's skin firm,
the colour of meadows in the midst
of spring.
Tightly it clung
to that little stem on the branch
which exerted much effort
to keep it away from the ground.
It looked down on me
wanting badly to be picked.
To be kept inside my pocket
safe - and could be taken out
in dark moments for company.
It could also be tossed roughly in the sack
to migle with other pears.
Scratched pears.
Battered pears.
Broken pears.
Happy pears.
Wounded pears.
Rotten pears.
Abandoned pears.
Neglected pears.
Hate pears.
Love pears.
But it clings, above me
completely out of reach.
It sways in the wind,
impossible to be climbed.
And all I can do
is wait here,
down here, down below
until time exhausts the branch
until it decides to push my pear away
in moments when I am most unprepared.
It will fall on the ground
and I won't be there to catch it - like people execute to people.
Its flesh will cover the pavement
the soil will sap its juice.
It will kiss the soles of my shoes when I passed by
Its remnants will knock, then eventually pound.
And I will see that my untouchable pear
has been reassembled to be a ruin
that shelters history
that homes the history people
with historical names
and historical nails
and historical breath.
That house will contain the smell of oil lamps
lost letters, burnt maps and scarred love
and my pear will accompany the parchment
that human thoughts choose to abandon.
Until then,
I will not be writing for a while.
Apr 22, 2013
Apr 22, 2013 at 7:44 PM UTC
Kung walked
by the dynastic temple
and into the cedar grove,
and then out by the lower river,
And with him Khieu Tchi
and Tian the low speaking
And “we are unknown,” said Kung,
“You will take up charioteering?
“Then you will become known,
“Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery?
“Or the practice of public speaking?”
And Tseu-lou said, “I would put the defences in order,”
And Khieu said, “If I were lord of a province
“I would put it in better order than this is.”
And Tchi said, “I would prefer a small mountain temple,
“With order in the observances,
with a suitable performance of the ritual,”
And Tian said, with his hand on the strings of his lute
The low sounds continuing
after his hand left the strings,
And the sound went up like smoke, under the leaves,
And he looked after the sound:
“The old swimming hole,
“And the boys flopping off the planks,
“Or sitting in the underbrush playing mandolins.”
And Kung smiled upon all of them equally.
And Thseng-sie desired to know:
“Which had answered correctly?”
And Kung said, “They have all answered correctly,
“That is to say, each in his nature.”
And Kung raised his cane against Yuan Jang,
Yuan Jang being his elder,
For Yuan Jang sat by the roadside pretending to
be receiving wisdom.
And Kung said
“You old fool, come out of it,
“Get up and do something useful.”
And Kung said
“Respect a child’s faculties
“From the moment it inhales the clear air,
“But a man of fifty who knows nothng
Is worthy of no respect.”
And “When the prince has gathered about him
“All the savants and artists, his riches will be fully employed.”
And Kung said, and wrote on the bo leaves:
If a man have not order within him
He can not spread order about him;
And if a man have not order within him
His family will not act with due order;
And if the prince have not order within him
He can not put order in his dominions.
And Kung gave the words “order”
and “brotherly deference”
And said nothing of the “life after death.”
And he said
“Anyone can run to excesses,
“It is easy to shoot past the mark,
“It is hard to stand firm in the middle.”
And they said: If a man commit ******
Should his father protect him, and hide him?
And Kung said:
He should hide him.
And Kung gave his daughter to Kong-Tchang
Although Kong-Tchang was in prison.
And he gave his niece to Nan-Young
although Nan-Young was out of office.
And Kung said “Wan ruled with moderation,
“In his day the State was well kept,
“And even I can remember
“A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
“I mean, for things they didn’t know,
“But that time seems to be passing.
A day when the historians left blanks in their writings,
But that time seems to be passing.”
And Kung said, “Without character you will
“be unable to play on that instrument
“Or to execute the music fit for the Odes.
“The blossoms of the apricot
“blow from the east to the west,
“And I have tried to keep them from falling.”
4.6k
The ecstasy
The ecstasy only you know
The only life you have
Take it
Dwell in it
Let it consume
Wooden metaphors
You are infected
It spreads like
The ecstasy
The ecstasy only you know
Save it for the ones
Who live to execute
Give them this
Let self-love sweep
The floors of
The ecstasy
The ecstasy only you know
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 3:56 AM UTC
Prologue
casual glance at my notifications while driving even though
I’m all ready a bad bad boy, cruising at a sedate,
cruise-controlled 70 mph vs. the bureaucrat bifocals 55,
a remnant regulation of the Eighties,
all the while humming with Gilligan
“a 3 hour tour,
2 passengers set sail that day”
then execute a four lane 180,
gotta get highway sideway grassed ,
cause i’m gassed...
by a Poem Breach
of the poems promised by me,
to write of thee,
you, my best inspiration,
the list grows longer, faster
than the hours provided
pull over fast emergency for my composure breached,
my vision wetted, my eyes hit by an unplanned unexpected,
sudden summer thunderstorm
<•>
The Poem Breach
***once more into the breach thy words breeze through my chest,
like on a flamed stick, night roasting, toasting beach summer marshmallows,
that cut direct to the ineffable sadness that resides resists within,
that sticky, white mess,
a human heart melting
a thank you message that I’ve read before,
many times more than once,
how my unasked poem, a sun unique,
arrived at the
precise time and place,
to lift and even save,
how could I’ve know?
I did not know
but these messages collect on my chest,
unsought words of purple ribbon metal that make a
less burdened cowardly lion,
grown man cry,
do crazy things for it is a possible solution to his
age old quest
Why do I exist, is this my purposed plan, don’t understand, all
but the answer peaked and peaceful accepted in the breach unreasoned,
my port of entry, a gateway to the scales, a bridge it is, over a time-life river styx and unstuck, yet certainly always confused...***
“It is a far, far better thing that I do, than I have ever done; it is a far, far better rest that I go to than I have ever known.”
thank you so insufficient
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 11:56 AM UTC
The cocktail dress split hope down the screen
Letting that reoccurring dream compel me
Into memories of you
The clink of my cup
Shattered sobriety with the pain of daybreak
The ice looks like crystal but only something that will disappear and overflow your glass is standing at attention
The bar stool cracked, empty and the faux leather ripped, and torn
Cougars and MILFs strut down the bar top
Scanning tonight’s bachelors
I sit behind, for my dress is long and flannel
Heavy, hot making me sweat and stink
I run faster than a cheetah in my mind
Tearing doors and bridges apart
Speeding towards the sunrise
Attempting for the *** of gold
The cocktail drips from the table on to the floor
A puddle I will eventually slip from
Hair in my face
My ankle sundress reaped with alcohol
I stand up, look around
Towel?
But all I see is you
Walking back slowly retreating to the door
Leaving me to deal and regret the decisions
I so poorly execute
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 5:29 PM UTC
The outside world is a fast changing place
Plans made in the present will leave their mark and presence in the future
As of now in the present everything seems fine and better.
Time and tide waits for no one
Make a plan in the present and work it out successfully
Even after the successful execution there will always remain an odd that will come along the way.
Every plan made in the present will have it’s presence felt in the future even after an execution in the present.
Prepare for the future when time in the present permits to do the same
Let the present built on it’s own
In doing so, keep in mind the uncertainty about the future
A moment in time will come when the future will look certain
Important will be that moment in time then,
since present moment in time will be ripen enough to execute the necessary line of action.
When something is going on in the mind,
something certain,
definitely something needs to be worked up and worked upon to ascertain that something certain.
Plans are always be made, since to plan something becomes need of the hour
Important is to execute the plan successfully
This is when expertise and experience comes into application.
Within a stipulated period of time everything needs to fall in it’s proper place to see what are the results that one gets when a plan was made initially.
Definitely planning is important,
however, equally important is successful execution of that planning.
Hence it’s important to remember,
every plan that is made in the present will always leave it’s mark and presence in the future.
Important will be then at that moment in time to act accordingly
The other way round,
important will be then to make the next plan keeping in mind again the future.
Nov 26, 2015
Nov 26, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
I don't think most people understand **depression
suicide
PTSD**
or the cycles that they come in as if they were tides.
People don't see past the smiles and laughter to the darkness within;
That you could be surrounded by love and feel okay
yet still be dead
That no matter how much comfort or peace you have it still gnaws away in the beck of your mind and chews a hole in your heart.
Cut wrists and suicide attempts aren't a cry for attention but for help;
does anybody out there hear me? see me? feel the way I feel? does anybody get that I am on the edge and losing it? why does nobody listen? why don't they take me serious? am I worth anything?
It disgusts me we execute the wounded and condemn their suffering;
Maybe they shouldn't feel the way they feel, but it's how they feel, so quit trying to tell them to stop feeling that way!
QUIT TRYING TO FIX THEM
Just be there... they need to know they aren't alone.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 3:25 PM UTC
My shattered life is like the forsaken Black Widow spider.
The victim's detestation does not even show passion to me.
I bit my victim in two and also hurt them in the process.
The more I hurt my victim in the process, the more woe I have
and hope they are still my friend tomorrow.
The deeper I sink my teeth into my victim,
the more fatal my poisonous venom becomes and hope the fatal
poison doesn't execute them.
I think of all the hard times I've had, just by being nice and
friendly, but it does not work.
When I let go of my victim and hope they do not smash me,
But have the time, I get squashed and hope my sin are forgiven.
Then time was wasted for unanswered dreams and in the process
making new friends.
But I never did.
Life has gone without a prayer, without friends and for someone
to love me.
The next time you see a Black Widow spider, ask yourself,
"Could my life be like a Black Widow spider's?"
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 8:37 PM UTC
"In a mad world, only the mad are sane"
Clearly stated by K. Akira.
Scary!
What is freedom?
How close is it to insanity?
Scary!
Is that a freedom when one has to lose peace of mind? Is that a freedom where finally one has to ask ownself, who am I? And may regret what I have become. Is that a freedom where you search for the thousand Suns when you know one is enough? Is that a freedom where you have to sell the soul to exist a new time? Freedom is questionable.
Never ask that freedom when you are not ready for. Never ask that freedom where you don't belong. Never ask that freedom where finally one has to shed tears. Never ask that freedom where foundation of life ends. Isn't it insanity, freedom beyond control? And you may have observed where weeds florish, lotus thrives.
Balanced freedom is conscious state of being where no outer stimuli distracts, and one could flourish. Freedom in any form is always neutal, but the person who execute it, could be wrong. And forgive me if it is illogical, Earth revolving around it's axis is universal example of how much freedom one needs.
What is freedom?
How close is it to insanity?
As the saying goes, your freedom to swing your fist ends just where my nose begins.
Yes, should I repeat that?
Reasonably never ask the insane, what freedom is. At that instant they will justify everything, where they are always right.
It will be scarier that time.
Thus freedom itself is never the issue, for what cause it is exercised, is.
Nothing more.
Apr 10, 2020
Apr 10, 2020 at 11:13 AM UTC
Oh Sleeping believer on the bed!
Three knots at the back of your head,
each contains Satan's words enchanting.
' The night is, long, so keep on sleeping, '
' The night is, long, so keep on sleeping, '
' The night is, long, so keep on sleeping, '
wake-up praising Allah, untie the first one,
perform the ablution second will be undone,
execute the salah so that remains none.
Send the dullness, gloominess far away.
Get up in the morning lively and gay. :)
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 9:16 PM UTC
Postpone not a good deed due to laziness
That temperament will spoil your mission
Always punctually execute your decision
This will help you a lot in life and business
Any good intention must be soon acted upon
Before your mind makes a negative move
Your worth, only your deed will finely prove
Wisely use the opportunity before it is gone
While taking steps, difficulties will crop up
But, we should not lose heart feeling diffident
We must face all the blocks feeling confident
Without playing, how to aim for the golden cup?
Life means only problems and lots of troubles
Happiness may show its face occasionally
Our happiness alone must triumph finally
Due to will-power, troubles become bubbles
Concentrate to achieve the desired result
Let determination be exercised in full swing
Glory and success, only hard-work will bring
Efforts alone tie achievements to one's belt.
mvvenkataraman
Jan 30, 2013
Jan 30, 2013 at 10:33 AM UTC
is this craft
that chose you,
not defined by millimeters,
precision absolute,
curvatures, so eye pleasing
they demonstrate
no tolerance
for tolerance
of the
ordinary
the skill of words,
too, cut so fine,
find the
extraordinary within,
refine, refine, refine,
shave away the trite,
the reused, discard,
instant recognition,
unusable
cut new cuts,
thy spirit tolling,
thy soul trolling
anew
is thy
toolings earth sourced
from and of the
ever better,
ever closer,
always newer
make thy own designs,
faithfully execute
the new born original,
by elevating,
with the tools
in you, provide us,
by illuminating
no thing machined,
can ever be as fine
as the originality
that requires
soft spoken definition
in new ways,
heart and hand
guild crafted
when God designed the Connecticut
autumnal leaves,
overriding the summers's single green, good
but not miraculous, insufficient,
when contrasted with the
shades of red, yellow,
purple, black, orange, pink,
magenta, blue and brown
of newly fallen
words and worlds
in the season of change
write me a tool
so elegant, so complex,
so refined and yet so simple,
that its point will force no choice,
but engrave gasps of pleasure upon
my faltering eyes,
my slowing heart,
my exhausted limbs,
and make me
live again
through your
finest creativity
heat heat heat
burn to look beyond
Nov 23, 2014
Nov 23, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC
The Nakedness of Execution
~for Balanchine~
the empty page possesses the perfect clarity of nothingness,
making it perfectly clear nothingness has no business here
come, execute,
clothe thy nakedness,
be a carpenter and build
a shelter for your cover
be a carpenter
construct the art that dresses thy body
yet, undresses the glowing glory spirited nakedness
we desire,
let us see the visibility of your naked invisibility
execute
unmasked unadulterated unasked unmodulated
pick the wood, select the tools, carve the words
on your forehead, Carpenter Cain
that we may copy them onto our eyes
ask then what can I make of my perfect clarity
and execute
disclose yourself, clothe ourselves
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 1:51 PM UTC
It's all much too
Loud.
The world going by me
Is much too
Noisy.
There's already a consistent scream
Inside of me.
The last thing I need
Is to be in this world
With too many
Sounds.
So I hide
In my room all day.
I hide myself away,
Because when I hear
Everything that's happening outside,
How everything moves just fine,
I begin to lose my mind.
Why can't I move the same?
Why can't I become
Part of this well oiled machine?
I'll never fit into
The motions they all execute,
So I sit on the edge
Of their common reality
And watch it all turn.
I watch it
But it gets too much
It grows too loud
And now I have to hide again.
Hide myself from all the sounds
That start fires in my head.
Run
Little freak.
Run
Black sheep.
My ears are too sensitive
To be in anything but
Silence.
To be in anything but
Quiet.
The vibrations of the outside
Go in my sensitive ears
And amplify whatever is already
Being screamed in my
Tortured
Tormented
Time bomb
Mind.
Then they go to my eyes,
Well right behind
And build pressure
And pain
Until I have no choice but to
Cry.
Cry.
Little baby
Little freak
Little black sheep
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 2:19 AM UTC
I sip my beer, the relief of foam
the last remnant of civilisation
like a porcupine shawl
alcohol is the spine slice
beneath the skin
welcoming me in.
Electric lights shining bright
eels wriggling in a pool of light
like Frankenstein reborn
the monster within
the feathers of a passing dove give flight.
Sometimes I feel like grilled asparagus
the breathlessness of sentiments
wrapped in tin foil
the coil of perfection at gas mark 7.
Sitting in my bathtub and a 3 piece suit
electric toaster bubble and squeak
and fidgety machete at the ready
the voice in my head says, 'hey man, steady!'
the institute transmutes its underplay
I opt to not execute on this occasion
instead soak up the libation of liberation.
Safe in the knowledge;
tomorrow is another day.
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 7:16 PM UTC