"exercised" poems
<>
"And then one day you came back home
You were a creature all in rapture
You had the key to your soul
And you did open that day you came back to the garden
The olden summer breeze was blowin' on your face
The light of God was shinin' on your countenance divine
And you were a violet colour as you
Sat beside your father and your mother in the garden
The summer breeze was blowin' on your face
Within your violet you treasure your summery words
And as the shiver from my neck down to my spine
Ignited me in daylight and nature in the garden"
In the Garden,
song by by Van Morrison
<>
***This touches me deep in the chest cavity,
the palpitations of its internalizing echoing cavitations,
a warning, go slow, choose your words wise and
accrue, the mood,
for the ache of creating, hurts, fevers me
for I am but steps away from the garden,
and its violet hues infused with fresh sunrising golden hazes,
with kindly warmth, with warming kindnesses,
touches,
caresses my shoulders, begs me to stop crying,
overcome, for I am overcome, eyes dropping wetting droplets,
for find myself at the intersection,
interlocking crossroads
where perfect perfection
begins and must
meet its natural endings
thoughts of capture, retentions, preservations,
all impossibilities, challenges,
see me, begging itinerant
muses
in the neighborhood
to guide my hand, teach me newsome words,
mine feel so old, so unworthy of this moment,
hearing me solicit their
Treasure of Summery
Words
but they won't,
excusing themselves,
that this in particular human has exercised, exorcised,
all the tools in his ever diminishing capacity,
time insufficient to learn a new calculus of
addition
and bid me calm my heaving chest,
seize my tears, just add them to the brackish salted waters steps
awaiting away
live in this moment
live within this poem,
revisit it frequent,
weep no more,
your stilling heart weakened,
take fast what is given now,
and be contented,
your treasury chest is full,
overflowing with this summary of
summery***
but I am not, cannot…
7:48:am
jul 22
Jul 22, 2025
Jul 22, 2025 at 8:03 AM UTC
you haven't exercised in a week
you haven't exercised and you've been eating a lot - ice cream and candy and not entirely healthy things
you haven't exercised and you've been eating a lot and you've developed a slight pudge around your tummy where previously you wanted rock hard abs because you wanted to be strong
but you're finding that strong isn't what you've made it to be
maybe strong is more than slim bodies and powerful arms...maybe
and the strangest part of this journey of self-discovery is that, as your stomach starts to make itself a delicate padding and as you roll over in bed instead of going for a run, you are curiously the most happy you've been in weeks
and you love your body and it makes sense and you are happy
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:57 AM UTC
The desire to travel starts at birth
Such a powerful and common dream
To explore the earth
From opening forbidden cupboards as a toddler
To learning a new drinking game in a hostel in Europe.
Travel is a necessity to life,
Living properly
Almost as important as breathing
And should be as exercised just as much.
Aug 4, 2015
Aug 4, 2015 at 6:39 PM UTC
A is the Alphabet, A at its head;
A is an Antelope, agile to run.
B is the Baker Boy bringing the bread,
Or black Bear and brown Bear, both begging for bun.
C is a Cornflower come with the corn;
C is a Cat with a comical look.
D is a Dinner which Dahlias adorn;
D is a Duchess who dines with a Duke.
E is an elegant eloquent Earl;
E is an Egg whence an Eaglet emerges.
F is a Falcon, with feathers to furl;
F is a Fountain of full foaming surges.
G is the Gander, the Gosling, the Goose;
G is a Garnet in girdle of gold.
H is a Heartsease, harmonious of hues;
H is a huge Hammer, heavy to hold.
I is an Idler who idles on ice;
I am I--who will say I am not I?
J is a Jacinth, a jewel of price;
J is a Jay, full of joy in July.
K is a King, or a Kaiser still higher;
K is a Kitten, or quaint Kangaroo.
L is a Lute or a lovely-toned Lyre;
L is a Lily all laden with dew.
M is a Meadow where Meadowsweet blows;
M is a Mountain made dim by a mist.
N is a Nut--in a nutshell it grows--
Or a Nest full of Nightingales singing--oh list!
O is an Opal, with only one spark;
O is an Olive, with oil on its skin.
P is a Pony, a pet in a park;
P is the Point of a Pen or a Pin.
Q is a Quail, quick-chirping at morn;
Q is a Quince quite ripe and near dropping.
R is a Rose, rosy red on a thorn;
R is a red-breasted Robin come hopping.
S is a Snow-storm that sweeps o'er the Sea;
S is the Song that the swift Swallows sing.
T is the Tea-table set out for tea;
T is a Tiger with terrible spring.
U, the Umbrella, went up in a shower;
Or Unit is useful with ten to unite.
V is a Violet veined in the flower;
V is a Viper of venomous bite.
W stands for the water-bred Whale;
Stands for the wonderful Wax-work so gay.
X, or ** or *** is ale,
Or Policeman X, exercised day after day.
Y is a yellow Yacht, yellow its boat;
Y is the Yucca, the Yam, or the Yew.
Z is a Zebra, zigzagged his coat,
Or Zebu, or Zoophyte, seen at the Zoo.
7.1k
Food for thought
Savor in flavor within structural tone
A former Competitive Bodybuilder who could hold his own
He exercised to gain and ate to maintain
It was dignity and honor in appreciation of aim
Being a Competitive Bodybuilder requires all intensity
But it was about winning on the stage spotlight being a reality
Yet beyond Bodybuilding, there was something about food and preparing a very exotic cuisine
You will see down the line in what I mean
The former Competitive Bodybuilder felt that being a Chef was always his dream
Now it will be a reality like a running stream
But to be a good Chef you need the right education and Mentor
Yes a Chef for sure
Bake until rise
Savor the taste with the right ingredients being the surprise
Being a competitive Bodybuilder, one accepts the challenges in being the best
But when it comes to a Cuisine Chef, it will be the food critics who will contest
Patrons that will eat a Chef’s dish will be the true confess
So ovens over the world
There is a Chef to make your taste buds swirl
What will he prepare?
That is something I won’t share
You will have to experience for yourself
Taste I am sure you will enjoy
This is a true story of a Chef
He has cooking to do with not much time left.
Ship Ahoy!
Mar 2, 2017
Mar 2, 2017 at 4:29 PM UTC
<>
you pout and defer, dancing backwards,
claiming, blue is now blackened
from underuse, incapable and incapacitating revival
*saying eyes cannot see, distinctly, neither near or far,
the tremble of love, forgot & distantly absent,
but I know, a heart’s sensory muscles never die,
though weaken they might, underused, un-exercised
denying that inspiration
no longer resides with in thy sensitivities,
has fled, undercover of smoking forest fires
all the diurnal hazards that invade, occupying
my internal spaces once filled by poems
you conceived, birthed, in a pleasured haze,
came so fast, you bare recall agony accompanied,
but not the ecstasy of the end resultant!*
***you know it’s you of whom I write, but,
a note not shaming names, but messages
countless private messages have I sent
begging, beseeching, give me your gifts***
once more, you owe me not, though I
oft irritate with my deafening pleas,
yet only denials continue, my pleas ding
but dent not, the tired fear of your exposition
so speak to you plain,
feed my soul selfish
like in years gone past,
there are holes in mine
that require your elixir,
creamy softness that moistens
my face with tears of your words
originating, astound, enfold**
not later, not soon, not excusals,
write for me NOW, WRITE FOR YOURSELF,
but leave me not forsaken and thirst un-slackened,**
Answer! To whom do you owe your poems?
Jun 11, 2023
Jun 11, 2023 at 11:30 AM UTC
Life is so funny in its
uncanny and unpredictable
ways.
It reaches out to us
with powerful grip,
yet allows us to make decisions
about what we think we want
without interference
but with consequences
of our actions.
Molded in our favour,
fashioned to bring succour
and comfort to ameliorate
the pains to be encountered.
This helps to do things
the right way the first time,
allowing things to manifest
and work the way they should,
not the other way around.
It’s like when we brush
our teeth before we go to
the dentist to have
a teeth cleaning or
when we wash the dishes before
we put them in the dishwasher
or when we clean up the house
before the maid arrives.
These are not following
the natural order of things.
Yield to the kindness of nature.
Listen to the rhythm it beats
into your consciousness,
it's wisdom is of superior quality.
Accept whatever it gives you,
for the miraculous is woven
and hidden inside it.
The notion is to take you to the apex
of your mountain if patience is excellently
exercised and not be distracted.
©2018,Emeka Mokeme. All Rights Reserved.
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 12:36 PM UTC
"montana-says-yoga-pants-illegal" Look up on Yahoo
we got quite the stash,
under the illegal grass,
in our hidden home,
bring 'em out when
it's just the two of us,
looking to get exercised
o'course we have secret codes,
(yogurt slackers)
never call 'em by their real name
in public,
lest we get sent by drone
to the new
orange and black jail
when we be feeling
risky-frisky,
under our coats
we wear 'em semi-publicly,
but to blend in,
we only buy black,
seeing as we live
in new york seeity,
where we reside,
black be the only
legal color for approved
illegal street walking
never when we travel domestically
in case we get busted,
don't want to face
federal interstate charges
of inciting others to riot sensationally!
this land is not my land,
maybe it is yours,
but if you come alooking
for us, we got a cabin
in the deep words,
where we practice
dress code freedom,
no ties, shirts untucked,
navel (oranges) fully exposed,
button down shirts always unbuttoned,
(my high school days
revolutionary first strike)
hoping to escape
the idiots we
place above us
to "govern"
Feb 17, 2015
Feb 17, 2015 at 4:34 PM UTC
My last days were rough.
But I got to spend it with my family.
They have taken care of me from the moment they adopted me.
They nursed me back to health.
They bathed me.
They found out that I like to eat everything including my kennel.
Last year we found out that I was sick.
They did everything they could do to help me.
We exercised all the time.
We played at the dog park with others like me.
My sister Journey took my passing the hardest.
But it was for the best.
I was in pain and I knew it was time.
I stopped eating and playing with my family.
I just layed there and did nothing.
I wanted to live longer but they couldn’t help me at the doctors.
I tried to fight it as long as I could.
My dad showed up with Journey in tears.
Siearra and mommy were the ones that brought me to the doctors that day.
I figured out what was going on.
I was thankful that I was going to be out of pain finally.
My dad I have never seen him like that before.
I love them all I always will.
I fought the medicine they gave me.
It took so long to say goodbye.
They didn’t want to neither did I.
It was scary as I left but I felt no pain.
My family gave me lots of treats before I left.
I will miss them always.
They were the best family I have ever had.
Thank you family for everything that you have done for me.
Thank you for making my life more enjoyable.
Thank you for loving me.
Thank you.
Jan 4, 2017
Jan 4, 2017 at 1:19 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
In toasting Mike I recollect
His steady watching gaze,
I recollect his calm
On a thousand stormy days.
I recall his jaunty humour
In his funny cockney style,
And the rationale behind it
And the pleasure of his smile.
And the quiet determination
In the steeliness within
And the love that emanated
When his Jules laughed loud with him.
When he held her hand and strolled
In the life they shared as one,
In the racket of the grand kids
As they shout and leap and run.
Through the years of hardy seamanship
From England's chalky reach,
Across the ocean's vastness
To far antipodean beach,
To the soft greens of New Zealand
And the promise of this land
And the shining eyes of Jules
When he offered her his hand.
And the life they shared together
Through the joy, the strain the tears
The utter joy of baby Kristin
And her beauty through the years.
The seamlessness of craftmanship
In tradesman's art supreme
And the pride of his achievement
In a sweet successful dream.
A chasm has appeared in life
Where old Mike used to be.
Dreadfull death has exercised
It's right to set him free.
But I can't feel bad for Micheal
For the brilliance of it all
Is celebration of his life well lived
And my toast to judgement's call.
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
10 January 2010.
Jan 10, 2010
Jan 10, 2010 at 6:51 AM UTC
Which Is Greater?
I break a vow.
A serious vow.
In a place, in this site,
Where the fluid pain
Is the water of the world,
The element that is crux,
The amniotic liquor of creative flux,
The morning juice,
The afternoon caffe,
The first beer of the day,
The liquid that we rinse and spit out our every day,
I will write about pain,
Arrogantly, as if there is any unused combination of
Letters, vowels and consonants left unspoken, *****
Having sworn not to, for pain is cumulative.
Asking myself,
Which is greater?
The pain of creation, inception, origination and birth,
The pain of wreck and ruin, destruction and death.
Homework Self-Assignment: Compare and Contrast
Suddenly, I am expert.
Creating a poem a day is very painful.
A poem that is the sum of
Reflection, research, and purging.
Once I wrote:
*The poem is the afterbirth,
A conflicts resolution, an outcome,
Battlefield debris, the residue of
An exacting vision, a sentiment surging,
And your army of words, inadequate to the task,
Fighting to capture that insight flashed,
Each word a soldier, disheveled,
Crying, let me live, let me be saved,
Let me make a poem,
Let it be inscribed upon my victorious flag.
The poem is the sweat left upon the brow,
Having exercised the five senses,
The salt of struggle and debate,
It's completion, each word,
Both a victory and a defeat.*
Suddenly, I am expert.
My mother is dying.
It is a process. Days pass,
She neither eats or drinks,
Yet she lives on.
I watch each labored exhalation,
A subtraction, a countdown,
It is as if she was returning each singular day,
Every word e're spoke, every dream dreamt,
she ever possessed to the atmosphere,
One breath at a time.
Is that painful?
It is for me.
Now you complain. They're different, not to be compared, et cetera.
Pain is pain,
Whether it is in the service of creation, or
Creative destruction.
Once I wrote:
*With each passing poem,
I am lessened within, expurgated,
In a sense part of me, expunged,
Part of me, passing too,
Every poem's birth diminishes me.*
So, one and the same?
Nope. Yes. But. Cannot one be the greater?
Yes, one is greater.
When I lay on my deathbed,
I will exhale the answer
Into the atmosphere
For your retrieval.
Jul 19, 2013
Jul 19, 2013 at 7:06 PM UTC
In my craft or sullen art
Exercised in the still night
When only the moon rages
And the lovers lie abed
With all their griefs in their arms
I labour by singing light
Not for ambition or bread
Or the strut and trade of charms
On the ivory stages
But for the common wages
Of their most secret heart.
Not for the proud man apart
From the raging moon I write
On these spindrift pages
Nor for the towering dead
With their nightingales and psalms
But for the lovers, their arms
Round the griefs of the ages,
Who pay no praise or wages
Nor heed my craft or art.
2.9k
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
On a daily, our minds are exercised,
Whether we like or enjoy it, or entirely despise, we have to continue to thread water, even thru the darkest cries, the strengthful tries, the empty lies, and the curled up sighs, of painful nights, now look up to the skies, because it just doesn't stop, so why should WE?
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 12:53 PM UTC
Wake up
Look in mirror
fat
Take off clothes
Look in mirror
why is my stomach so swollen looking??
******* hate this body*
especially my stomach
Weigh
102.3
finally
Breakfast
Strawberries
10 calories
Coffee and cream
34 calories..
too many
need energy, though
fine.
strawberries+coffee+cream= 44 calories
Weigh
102.6
**** it*
*****
Weigh
102.4
better
Go for run
burned 400 calories
Hungry
can't eat
Look in mirror
the way my fat sticks out is disgusting
Weigh
102.4
100 sit ups
burned 50 calories
200 jumping jacks
burned 70 calories
Look in mirror
why am I not thin yet
don't fade out again
Passes out
Go to doctor
Says too thin
don't lie to me
Dinner
Peach
36 calories
Energy drink
210 calories
ugh
need it desperately though
strawberries+coffee+cream+peach+energy drink= 290
Weigh
103.1
hate myself
Stare in mirror
Stare in mirror
Stare in mirror
Examine body
*****
Weigh
102.1
200 sit ups
burned 100 calories
Get dumped by boyfriend
it's probably because I'm fat
Take shower
Get out
Look in mirror
you are disgusting
Go to bed
I hate myself
REALITY
scary thin
ate too little, exercised too much
unrealistically saw herself
died two years later of a self inflicted gunshot to the head and a starved soul
note said: “I love you, but I hate myself and the fact I'll never be small enough for you”
Jun 17, 2013
Jun 17, 2013 at 11:09 PM UTC
her morning pleasure occasionally actually exercised,
a substituted delight for gym-going work with Lulu exercised,
no man can, will ever, understand
the nature/nurture debate over,
in my mind resolved, nature, hands up and hands down
RR's^ query, is god dead,
no longer rumbles around in my head cause when he speaks,
I can't get a word in edgewise
what i did in the sixties, lost to time in memoriam,
especially some really bad poetry
but this gender differentiation
a matter that Aristotle dutifully, so wisely, philosophically avoided
there is no Socratic method rationality in what is just crazy insanely meiosis,
there is no comprehension of the essence of elemental genetic division,
like the NY Mets,
ya just gotta believe, or just accept
but from the other side of the bed
comes a surly, dry rejoinder, a gelled spike
*thanks to modern science,
why don't you come over to the
right side, maybe then,
you'll understand the true meaning
of pleasure
transgend your self,
show your willingness per the bible,
to be god's new and improved version of a human being*
So,
a pretty little, light A-line,
with a summer floral pattern,
a size 12, (20? ***
I,
will wear with great
human pride,
come June
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 11:20 AM UTC
Nobody understands children
Or plays their games properly.
Nobody looks them in the eye
As equals
Or tells them a secret
In return for one of theirs
A real one.
No one cares what they think,
Just how they are, and what people think of them.
They do not exist.
Their opinion is not there.
It’s sad because
In many ways
They’re good at life
And in many ways
We’re not -
We take on too much,
Live unsustainably
And end up
Disappointing all round.
Oh well.
Julia exercised her power
Over the happy family’s
Holiday photo shoot at dinner.
To cage the moment
The adults sent a camera to either flank of
Her and her father.
She was suddenly reticent, shy, they thought.
Her face dancing away from the camera
While she monkey hugged her father
(For some more haribo).
But he would not give in, because he did not have them,
And everyone wanted a picture of them together,
The spotlight was on them now,
He was sweating in the glare of the media circus,
The pressure was mounting, no retreating now.
So when daddy said,
"Come on Julia, smile for the camera!"
She narrowed her eyes
And clung harder to his neck,
An all-encompassing embrace -
Not so much of love, but of
The only power she had –
To hide her
Face.
"What's up Julia?" Asked Dad.
"I'll smile for you if you want,
But I'm not smiling for the camera." She said.
Feb 22, 2011
Feb 22, 2011 at 2:37 AM UTC
After a lot to negotiate
toing and froing
you exchanged your teeny heart
for my bag of 18-something stones
I carried it home in a hurry
much lighter than I expected
for what looked like a big cherry
it was shaking when I checked it
I worried at its odd little quivering
a bit timid and nervy
like a leaf blown from its tree
but happy to have a new owner in me
I nestled it carefully
in my mother's best white sheets
but was scared to see
it start to bleed quite a bit
not that it might die
but about what my mother would say
about the red in the laundry
and what she might tell her mother
if she got it back needing a doctor
I decided to pat it
with a towel to keep it dry
no even better
shower it each day
keep it a bit moist
sprinkle it with Eau de Toilette
every morning blow it a kiss
like having a sweet pet
to greet after I shave
I wanted to rub my hands with glee
but it needed treating with kid gloves
and exercised in carefree handling
but first I had to squeeze it
not hard in case it burst
just in the middle bit
around its plumped up waist
it felt soft and squidgy
and beat quite quickly
not like my stones
I wrapped it up in a cooler
using styrofoam
aluminium foil
and a brown paper bag...
Styrofoam is a good insulator
and will keep the love from oozing out
the aluminium foil is a heat reflector
and the paper bag I am not sure about
but grocery stores offer them
to put your ice cream in
so it doesn't melt as fast
I had a meal of cheese on toast
then returned to check my box
your heart was not there to be seen
isolated in polystyrene
O dear I wished I'd cut a window
giving it room to see it grow
but then I spied you in the garden
painting stones to a wondrous glow
so lovely I traded back my carton
and your heart lit up inside for me
Jul 12, 2014
Jul 12, 2014 at 9:08 PM UTC
By keeping true calmness
Our mind functions well
Ideas are very progressive
Soul takes complete rest
Calmness gives clear ideas
Brain is very well nourished
Heart is devoid of friction
Body feels greatly jubilant
When emotions are serene
Classic will be the feeling
Joy permeates one's mind
Ecstasy and thrill are plenty
Whatever may be the news
View it in the right perspective
Digest it without any tension
Acceptance gives equanimity
Provocation must be denied
Extreme patience exercised
Will give enough confidence
Calmness wins without doubt.
mvvenkataraman
Feb 22, 2012
Feb 22, 2012 at 1:02 PM UTC
I wish I could stop
My hands from stalking
your page
from refreshing just to see your name
an expert in
pushing people away
My tongue is best tied up
instead of exercised
it's exorcism is backwards
demons it will spew
right into your insides
the things i say
aren't like the things i do
But my conscience blurs
all those lines when I'm with you
Who is this new host
of parasitic infection?
Making overly
sexualized suggestions
Who gave her the key and locked me out?
I wish I could stop
My hands from stalking
your page
from refreshing just to see your name
Dec 22, 2011
Dec 22, 2011 at 6:28 PM UTC
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
a little straight slip of a thing,
red, a quartier inch wide,
red, a quartier inch thin,
suggestive, inquisitive,
a political and philosophical,
lovely provocation to conjecture
as if it were a colored arrow,
pointing strangely down,
instead of up,
to the next handhold
on a rock climbing wall,
in this case,
handholds on a
woman's body
this way,
follow me,
to the barricades!
a tourist mapped-path to follow,
visit the glories of the republic,^
and the charming Quartier Latin!
entrap and entice,
the eyes willful blinded,
taken away to thoughtful solitary,
on-one-side-only,
does the
bra strap
conveniently,
consciously,
haphazardly,
(yes, that's it,
a hazard,)
invitingly, speaks to,
looks to me,
inquiring will you vote,
RSVP to red?
as if a line of lipstick on the body drawn,
the directive points,
this way, perhaps,
always, just perhaps,
this way tourist,
to the dome of the pantheon,
where the statutes
are the course,
or perhaps
disguised, well-placed, statuesque, (ha!),
improvised explosive devices,
purposely presented,
needy for a desired
psychological high impact detonation
If
that is its purpose
under heaven,
under sweater,
under halter,
under cutoff gym top,
under liberty,
to tempt and remove
the blindfold from the womanly scales of
under justice
to tilt him favorably one way
If
it, is theater,
I, the audience
then whatever is on stage,
(Ibsen's Doll House, ironie délicieuse)
is a failed distraction, naught to naughty,
to no avail,
his eyes fastened, stapled wide
to the quarter inch thin
red path
from her slender shoulder,
leading, stepping him ****** down to
his I-magination,
for which unknowingly,
he, ticket purchased,
months ago for
two hours and one intermission
He must go again,
the show was
superbly acted,
for so the reviews said,
Ibsen's play,
"an unremitting portrayal of the suffering of a women"
^republic ~ a state in which the power rests in the body,
of those entitled to vote, exercised by their representatives, their eyes, chosen directly by and for them.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 3:50 PM UTC
but then i am moulded by democracy,
and i see its evils,
and the only good of it
exercised is focused upon
the critical acclaim of theocracy,
and that only spreads upon
a definition: the existence of theocracy
qualifies democracy to become warring,
because under the dicta of the people
no gods exist, but despots do,
and democracy is qualified to eradicate all despots,
even god, with or without the rule of the people,
as the ambition of being without rule:
as ant said unto aardvark: same **** different planet.
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 7:44 PM UTC
second match lit and gone
cinders burn and hearts forlorn
the curse it summons haunts the head
with terrors of happiness that could have been
yet light seeps in through half-open eyes
though distorted with tearful disguise
as pain brings no warning, leaves none secure
as jealousy hidden in palms, submerged
the blush leaks in, roses bloom in the fall
the demise of your companions the source of it all
as you dream of the kiss you exercised on your lips
with the faint gossamer trails of a butterfly's bliss
the chill of winters creaks in your bones
the scratch of a pencil strengthening your woes
no amount of perfume will cover the cologne
no amount of tears shed with forget what you've known
four times the curse has struck the heart
and bled loves juice through every part
through wrecked veins and bruised bones
metastasizing, leaving you all on your own
through love's gentle heart brings peace to the world
a violent disguise for the pain it truly burns
candlelight vigils carry sorrow no longer
for love's vicious hand strikes down younger and younger
given sunshine rays to be brought to the soil
trotted on by millions worrying of their sorrows
problems; as if they have so much
insulting those who dare not live, dare not touch
the shreds of life they hold so dear
and those in tow they hold so near
tears. wet drivers run dry
is it always truly better to try?
sk
Sep 10, 2013
Sep 10, 2013 at 6:19 PM UTC
My mind is a muscle....
A muscle that needs to be exercised, quite often.
Daily Intense Workouts Shall Strengthen this muscle.
Enlarging it....
Making it quite Powerful.......
Never allowing this important muscle to fall to the
Shrunken Condition of "Weak and pitiful."
"jogging" down the streets which are the "books, of life's Experiences"
"pumping the irons" of the "Weight" that "Problems Needing to Be Solved"
Push on the limits which this muscle can "pump" and "endure"
I always "keep this muscle well toned" Running quickly, holding tightly, and
Stretching Its limits of what my "muscle" can "hold."
I hold a smile on my facee As I excercise my "mind" to a stronger Future.
Jul 22, 2015
Jul 22, 2015 at 4:28 AM UTC