"exiguous" poems
I last saw her in Santiago
******* drunkenly in a Sub urban taverna
parading conceited pride in a twisted union
with that ******** heinous maniacal harlequin
each in vainglorious throes of their imagined septic mindfuck
Debauch celebration of collaboration of succubus and incubus
Some days she is saying Haloa in Hawaii
adorned as Sainti Maria the ***** now as Madonna
spewing words like a dove acting like a Nun in a Convent
the fiendess with two faces hiding her ****** like the ace in lace
the malignant serpent crawling in the duality of her neurosis
I last saw her in Santiago
In a sanctity of the poisoned insecures with exiguous minds
consumed with flaming fears she begs acceptance for inclusion
******* for percieved reflected glory from her fathers' jailers
The subjugated souls of chai wallah lives on in grandchildren
So when Santi Maria flirts from honey to beehive
Ready to ***** and part thighs and brain for minor pointing gun
Feel sorry for a damaged child devoid of a prime core never made
only obeisance to past rulers whose discarded cast-offs she wears
Her poems enchants but its virulent tools she takes in her body
I last saw her in Santiago
A slaved two-faced pretender who sings like a nightingale
In sub urban dives she postrates to friendly pats and gropes
Melting creeps and hot tigers begging subs for a heady drink
Brilliant yet blindsided to **** on knees as her children will too
Copyright@LaurenceA20thSept2018Allrightsreserved.
Sep 21, 2018
Sep 21, 2018 at 9:03 PM UTC
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted
Into this nation’s primordial freeze
My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise
The sun’s altruism will be refuted
Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness
The frost will leak through the bedroom window
And don the facade of a blanket
The door will prove to be bottomless
Possibilities will seem unachievable
The brain will itch for what it can not have
Buses will limp through congestion
And the blizzards may feast on the feeble
You may want to write of your misery
But your automation will halt in cataclysm
Because someone held a door open
For the gust that billows bitterly
Gastric emissions will become tangible
As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour
The wispy whites, marginalized into *****
And the world remains infallible
I will lack the tools of incision
To enact my life’s revisions
I will weep for my unguided millions
While I saunter into oblivion
After the thaw, I will smile
My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind
Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me
I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles
After the thaw, the arks will converge
Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the
Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again
While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge
In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle
Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain
Is left susceptible to perennial reverence
The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel
In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways
Will show the world how exiguous we are
That we must not wait for exodus to come
Should we fear to waste away
Into icebergs
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
What are we to make of one lifetime? Any given lifetime? Is there a goal for everyone? If there is, clearly each goal is not necessarily the same as all the others, though it might be the same, or at least similar to, one or more than one. If there is no goal to any of them, then what is the reason we live? That would be nihilism. Why, in fact, has the human race propagated for untold millennia? In some respects, human life has evolved progressively positively, but in many other respects, it has devolved disastrously. The way each one of us has lived our lives is a function, I believe, of whether we were loved enough, if at all. If we live a loveless life from conception onward, we wind up unconsciously compensating for the emotional dearth we have suffered by accruing wealth, achieving fame, aggrandizing power. If we look at the 3,400 years of recorded history, there have been exponential advances in warfare, but humanistically relatively few by comparison. As of 2023, there are 10,000 diseases that can and do afflict us, but only 500 cures for the ones to which we fall victim. We have been fighting countless wars against our fellow man and killing millions and millions and millions of them, but discovering an exiguous number of cures for illnesses that often **** us. Why this gross, this grotesque, disparity? And we now find ourselves on the cusp of extinction from catastrophic climate change and the existential threat of nuclear holocaust. So, are we here on Earth simply and inexorably to destroy it and all its living creations? Or are we going to have soon enough a worldwide epiphany: to begin and never stop realizing that first we all need to be loved to love others; that there is but one land, one sea, one sky, one people; that the boundaries that now divides us are not on maps, but in out minds and hearts; that while we live on a small planet, it is big enough for all of us if only we are first loved so we can then love all others.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jul 22, 2023
Jul 22, 2023 at 12:59 AM UTC
The moralist is playing again,
bleaching your hair
is an unspoken uniform,
with so little soul
acetates don't get played.
New words gets bandied "plebs",
but without the de-rigueur Corduroys
or navy blazers,
we are all be tarred
with the same brush.
Meanwhile the coach exhaust fumes
abnegated our pilgrimage to Stamford
and we all now agree we
lived beyond our means
in exiguous Britain
Sep 27, 2012
Sep 27, 2012 at 5:24 PM UTC
What is this diminutive?
This quiddity of how we live,
This good and bad,
And right from wrong,
This insane concinnity,
We’ve followed for so pitifully long.
We need learn and ruse our minds,
To understand all types of kinds,
For man is not salubrious,
And all we seek is dubious,
We need to come to understand,
We all are good but all still bad,
We all are docile but maleficent,
Average and Magnificent,
We choose to be one or the other,
One or another,
Some skilled to beguile,
Others only know how to be difficile,
We all are weakened by indigence,
And we all are to this world exiguous,
So what is this surquedry of whose good and bad,
just because some may be of duende,
And others temerity mad,
No matter what you may do or say,
Your actions my apodictic opinion will not sway,
We will always be of human nature,
What is this good and bad nomenclature?
We are human and not irrefragable,
And the definition of unstable,
So be thee good or bad,
Be thee happy,
Be thee sad,
Be thee sane and be the mad,
We all can be good but we still stay with some bad.
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 1:08 PM UTC
i come to you in my dreams
sorrow and screams
listening to soothing songs
to make it all go away
we're all broken
in some exiguous way
everything that kills me makes me feel alive
your song comes on and i can't help but pry
thinking of everything
i hate this feeling
i wish it would go away
the helplessness drowns me
down and under i falter
emptiness engulfs me
weariness crowns me
fancying someone is tiring
not sure if love persists
but **** i know it exists
i'm not sure if i can hold on
for much longer
for i am starting to crumble
seeking slumber
temporary bliss
we're all so vulnerable
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 11:58 AM UTC
What are we to make of one lifetime? Any given lifetime. Is there a goal for everyone? If there is, clearly each goal is not necessarily the same as all the others, though it might be the same, or at least similar to, one or more than one. If there is no goal to any of them, then what is the reason we live? That would be nihilism. Why, in fact, has the human race proagated for untold millennia? In some respects, human life has evolved progressively positively, but in many other respects, it has devolved disastrously. The way each one of us has lived our lives is a function, I believe, of whether we were loved enough, if at all. If we live a loveless life from conception onward, we wind up unconsciously compensating for the emotional dearth we have suffered by accruing wealth, achieving fame, aggrandizing power. If we look at the 3,400 years of recorded history, there have been exponential advances in warfare, but humanistically relatively few by comparison. As of 2021, there are 10,000 diseases that can and do afflict us, but only 500 cures for the ones to which we fall victim.. We have been fighting countless wars against our fellow man and killing millions and millions and millions of them, but discovering an exiguous number of cures for illnesses that often **** us. Why this gross, this grotesque, disparity? And we now find ourselves on the cusp of extinction from catastrophic climate change and the existential threat of nuclear holocaust. So, are we here on Earth simply and inexorably to destroy it and all its living creations? Or are we going to have soon enough a worldwide epiphany: to begin and never stop realizing that first we all need to be loved to love others; that there is but one land, one sea, one sky, one people; that the boundaries that now divides us are not on maps, but in out minds and hearts; that while we live on a small planet, it is big enough for all of us if only we are first loved so we can then love all others.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Feb 18, 2021
Feb 18, 2021 at 1:10 PM UTC
the best time is our secret when I am blessed with the fortune of
circling overhead the debris of your existence
and falling in love with your fecund mind each time
you don't know it yet, but so many gems live within the bowls of your pain
your patterns are ejected from your ancient fears with alarming accuracy
a test subject of exiguous view
you open the heavens on us all
and how you are loved!
tomorrow, as usual, I will come and perch on your shoulder
and peck at the pieces of your remnant mind
it's my job to let you reach your best
I cannot apologise for the same thing you do
to me
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 12:43 PM UTC
I tried to conjugate it but it kept a solemn laughter.
The faux sweetness of it,
The hidden disease it ought to have been.
It laughed until its throat became raw,
And my ego, exiguous,
Down-trodden.
I cried to provide it and I that balance,
And with my eyes, yellow and jaundice-like from all of the salt and smoke,
It began to weep with me as well,
As if to say, “I am sorry for your loss.”
I’d lost it.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
I tried to conjugate it but it kept a solemn laughter.
The faux sweetness of it,
The hidden disease it ought to have been.
It laughed until its throat became raw,
And my ego, exiguous,
Down-trodden.
I cried to provide it and I that balance,
And with my eyes, yellow and jaundice-like from all of the salt and smoke,
It began to weep with me as well,
As if to say, “I am sorry for your loss.”
I’d lost it.
Jan 21, 2012
Jan 21, 2012 at 8:37 PM UTC
What is reality?
Reality itself cannot be comprehended in whole, thus its truth;
And hence in incredulity,
Reality being nothing more than the sum of perceptual senses translated into mental Interpretation,
It can be said that its very infeasibility grants sanity in its exiguous comprehensibility;
We spend our time attempting to prove and disprove things in this realm of reality, ultimately proving to ourselves the cessation of progression,
And with these interpretations we acquire what is colloquially called knowledge,
Reality is what is known, but not all that is known is reality.
Feb 20, 2014
Feb 20, 2014 at 3:19 PM UTC
The embers of my bitter revenge burn low,
leaving me with lingering anger and disappointment.
Their hatred for me fails to approach
the profound self-loathing that plagues my conscience.
In a final, desperate plea, I raise my gaze skyward.
Although I have received exiguous compassion in my life,
I implore the divine power of God,
a figure known for his mercy.
If the gates of Heaven are closed to me,
where shall I go when I plunge from this cliff?
Does damnation await me?
The verdict I have reached is clear.
I shall surrender to the flames that burn within
and embrace the infernal fires of Hell.
There, her warmth awaits to thaw my numb heart
and eternal perdition grants me respite
from this world's relentless torments.
I leap.
This is my choice, my final act of defiance
against a world that rejected me from the moment of my creation.
Just as swiftly as life had been bestowed upon me,
it is seized, like a candle flickering briefly
before being perpetually extinguished.
Jul 6, 2025
Jul 6, 2025 at 8:21 PM UTC
uyeasound
cloudberry
batholith
dreamville
inner places of bijou
stone and mortar
of the exiguous me
wants the sweetest suspire
the complete rapture
to be within the maze
of you
May 18, 2020
May 18, 2020 at 2:47 PM UTC
He was pavonine.
In the darkest room,
The light entered and aggrandized.
The rhythmic applause and glittering lights.
His eyes were wet, maybe of nervousness.
Stressed he was, too restless.
Heard his name, followed by loud screaming.
This was all he needed.. that was his childhood dream.
As he walked onto the stage,
Feeling like a bird, about to fly from the cage.
His exiguous steps, turned into hallux
Slowly, somewhere he was being treacherous,
From within. Going and remembering the past,
Silence was guiding his mind to the last.
He heard the song,
Began to perform.
Leaving the memories behind, danced deiform.
Inside him was a great Storm.
Every movement, every step was crystal clear.
Audience stood and of astonishment stared.
He rejoiced the seconds.
And lived the moments.
Nov 28, 2014
Nov 28, 2014 at 8:08 AM UTC
is a beast with peppermint breath
and shiny white teeth. Sometimes
they hide their claws in the bottom of
their bedroom drawers. Sometimes
their sweet song is exiguous as their
black leather thongs. Sometimes you're
trapped in a bubble that only leaves you with
a measure of trouble. And sometimes it takes
a sharp pin to see all the years you've put in.
Sep 13, 2022
Sep 13, 2022 at 7:24 AM UTC
“Now with an exiguous preamble,
In the CoronaVirus 2020 year,
Hands held aback in geniality,
No longer pugnacious sense,
Even amongst men there is fear,
Breathing’s generally wary,
As we know weakness breathing,
We will fear that an end is at hand,
But this is the everyday intake,
Of the imperceptible life force,
Willed as plague settles onward
They say just be cautious stay in,
In the airs of the populous air,
Now has become the extant colloquy,
No longer an effervescent fricative,
While not to make that ebullient point,
But a new garner dewy of air space,
A new sense of boundary,
Galileo truths are easy to understand,
But will we ever understand this beast,
To another perhaps not in this germ war,
A gesture of limited distance is disdain,
Now sufficing a simple nod is fine,
A minor simper or a slightly hoisted hand,
No longer in search of its correlative,
Just a systematic warning within,
The acknowledgment to stand back,
Beautiful strangers now merciless,
Affixed on the other side of that,
Until a cure is disinterred they are,
We are or may be forever bound,
Tween one another evanescent conduit”
By Andrew Guzaldo © 04/25/2020 #187
Apr 14, 2020
Apr 14, 2020 at 5:22 PM UTC