"expiate" poems
Mother's Milk,
-feel no Whistles or Bells?
A river my poor state of mind,
feelings' worded
mediocre,
Meiotic
but I am home.
I wish to feel a bit more?
To expiate this Trollop!
Gibbeted?
-or boiled
I stew...
And finally,
yes finally...
...shall I **** the little Gnome?
*I SHALL **** THE LITTLE GNOME.*
Mendacious
not
Alone.
Feb 18, 2018
Feb 18, 2018 at 4:02 AM UTC
PROMETHEUS (alone)
O holy Aether, and swift-winged Winds,
And River-wells, and laughter innumerous
Of yon Sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all,
And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you,--
Behold me a god, what I endure from gods!
Behold, with throe on throe,
How, wasted by this woe,
I wrestle down the myriad years of Time!
Behold, how fast around me
The new King of the happy ones sublime
Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me!
Woe, woe! to-day's woe and the coming morrow's
I cover with one groan. And where is found me
A limit to these sorrows?
And yet what word do I say? I have foreknown
Clearly all things that should be; nothing done
Comes sudden to my soul--and I must bear
What is ordained with patience, being aware
Necessity doth front the universe
With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse
Which strikes me now, I find it hard to brave
In silence or in speech. Because I gave
Honor to mortals, I have yoked my soul
To this compelling fate. Because I stole
The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went
Over the ferrule's brim, and manward sent
Art's mighty means and perfect rudiment,
That sin I expiate in this agony,
Hung here in fetters, 'neath the blanching sky.
Ah, ah me! what a sound,
What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen
Of a god, or a mortal, or nature between,
Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound,
To have sight of my pangs, or some guerdon obtain--
Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain!
The god Zeus hateth sore,
And his gods hate again,
As many as tread on his glorified floor,
Because I loved mortals too much evermore.
Alas me! what a murmur and motion I hear,
As of birds flying near!
And the air undersings
The light stroke of their wings--
And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.
5.5k
My glass shall not persuade me I am old
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee Time’s furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.
For all that beauty that doth cover thee
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me.
How can I then be elder than thou art?
O, therefore, love, be of thyself so wary
As I not for myself, but for thee will,
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain;
Thou gav’st me thine, not to give back again.
2.8k
Lexical littorals illiterate foal
Talus and cirque shore and shoal
Iconoclast anarchy vortex knoll
****** matrix vertex peak
Semantic regalia flux and seek
Torrid allusions own and keep
Dichotomy paradox surge and swell
Primordial integumence purge and fell
Contiguity confluence dirge and knell
Reliquiae requiem show and tell
Accession assertion deliberative need
Transcendent ascension expiate seed
Subordinate ancillary exigency deed
Subliminal subjunctive sensorium seethe
Uxorious usury detinue blithe
Contiguous currency decimate tithe
Tractive proximity critical lithe
Delusory phantasm futurity kithe
Alacritous tactile acuity interstice
Accidence ambience resonance quipy pith
Scenario synopsis resilience gist
Endergonic protensive progressiveness rift
Prestissimo preterite retroactive gift
Poignant puissance piquant myth
Fable fantasticate legend list
Preternatural gesticulate proclivity pith
Propensity assimilate diabolical mist
********** fornicate zooidal mist
Parenthetical erudite erumpence fist
Quiescent gossamer lecherous wrist
Militant mercenary actuator aorist
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
The walls cry-out as they burn.
A tumult of roars wreathed in the crackle of blazing matter.
Which is louder?
Perspective will tell.
The one who assaults,
Or the one assaulted?
The roar, or the crackle?
The giver, or the receiver?
Pleasure in two forms, two-faced gratification.
One hand for dispensation,
One mouth for sublimation.
And do we not all sublimate?
Base impulses, rank ideas,
On the surface, vindicate?
The residue of consequence
Brusquely scrub and expiate?
Perspective will tell.
We espy hedonism, unbridled delight,
And may envy those who bathe in these muddied pools,
Focusing our most ephemeral sense on dazzling cacophony,
Ignoring the estranged husband of hedonism,
Shunning the divorcée of delight.
Which is truly louder?
Perspective will tell.
In Oscar Wilde’s Salome the moon is thus described:
“She is like a woman who is dead. She moves very slowly.”
Pandemonium in the hall, the howling of wild beasts,
But she remains “a woman who is dead,”
And “she moves very slowly.”
The divorcée of delight,
A pitiful coming-down.
The remnant of misuse,
The scarring of abuse.
One reads on a stone:
The hardly-lovéd daughter of overuse.
And the one who gazes overlong is warned:
“You look at her too much.
It is dangerous to look at people in such fashion.
Something terrible may happen.”
The walls cry-out as they burn,
And they cry in desperation.
What we see is conflagration.
The light: A brilliant exultation.
The crackle: A herald of termination.
But when ash is blown in silence,
It is dangerous to look at what remains:
Scar tissue.
Slow death.
Residue.
The head of John.
The bones of Salome.
Broken glass.
Wilted flowers.
Cracked foundation on hollow cheeks.
Red lips the stain of blood on ivory cloth.
Festering flies.
The beating of vultures’ wings.
The snoring of satiated beasts.
The stumbling home.
Apologies.
Sublimation.
Conflation.
Expiation.
…
One’s well-mannered pause until the other’s end,
So that the one may pause…
And begin again.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 9:37 PM UTC
Embellish your lies with a wreath
to evade the wretched truth.
Wrap it around them as a sheath,
prudent as to not show ruth.
Cajole me into thinking that
most harm done is inadvertent,
and those harmed are still intact,
on their way to the top, ascendant.
Plant in me the bliss
I have been yearning for.
Elate me with calmness
from the surface of my being,
down to my very core.
Expiate the job of the universe,
and allow us all to lapse.
Leaving behind a world--cursed,
yet free of sullen poets.
Apr 9, 2014
Apr 9, 2014 at 7:13 AM UTC
I long to go now...
To where sunlight sifts its happy golden rays
Through leafy limbs that stroke the riverbanks;
To where the wafting wind
Winnows summer’s ripe-corn light,
Broad-casts, along lush, lithe folds,
And the hollows of the hills;
To where skies gently breathe above,
And all afloat
Clouds unfurl their mainsails & their jibs,
To tack along a doggerel day.
To wander towards hope,
That feather in a fool’s cap,
And find a morning rainbow bright,
A brief cool kiss of rain,
All to excite skin, then lend lean shadows again,
Oh! how one curls, unfolds,
Under the polar sun,
Like a magic fish,
Flapping on a spread palm,
Or hydraulically smooth,
A giant clam’s lifting shell.
Come now, warm airs, **** vegetable scents,
And full sun after noon,
To expiate the sins
Of replica monsoon.
Jan 10, 2011
Jan 10, 2011 at 2:27 AM UTC
I do not lack for intimacy, real and touching.
Perhaps, so blessed, I reach out to those in need
To those semi-known, but never met, never realized.
Perhaps, so disfigured by experience,
Compelled, self-commanded, self-anointed,
I venture to parts and people unknown,
With all that I have, my only possession,
Words of comfort, which is my trademarked craft,
And my true purpose... Here on earth.
But when entreaties refused, misunderstood,
Rejected, I am stunned by the hurt, the rejection,
Which makes one tired in ways that
Shock.
How allowed, who gave me permission
To increase my vulnerability to one more, only
Imagined, only Internet real...
This foolish tirade, in words, my stock and trade,
The only way to expiate my grief
For caring,
I Am that I Am
My instincts good, I will continue.
Disregard the brain, regard only the
Need,
To Be Who I Be.
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 4:55 AM UTC
messing with perfection,
you critique yourself,
why do it yet again,
a single choice, *******
yet every time them words,
penetrate, they instigate,
and you want to let~vent,
burst busting out in glory
bible student, we both. so
understand that titled reference
instantly, the secondary hid, secreted
a hurting with hallelujah familiarity
I weep. missing the singer,
his poetry delights, paralyzes with
a *********** indescribable, ecstaticly
indebted to him, his chosen words
he chose, I chose,
this decision to accept,
the need to expiate, explain, to better
understand our whys,
therby grasp our wherefores,
to give ourselves up entire,
thereby making, giving and even
t a k i n g,
the very chore so human to accept,
that surrendering,
f o r g i v i n g, one
accomplishes a chance to uncover the godliness within
that sparks
our frail humanity
to blossom to fruition, that our
fragility is the thinnest tissue of
diamond iron strength
encasing and encoding us unique
but yet united by
a single commonality,
that we are holy,
born to be
to be celebrated
and to share our voices
so differing
in an
unceasing
harmony
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 9:11 AM UTC
*With heartbreak and loss...
does the Divine hear our thoughts?*
*Turning feathers, black and flickers,
spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning,*
WHOOSH!
On hands, on knees,
wind, hair, cascade, face.
I cry out -hoary breath,
sobbing, tender, the freeze.
FUP-FUP-FUP
Painful sheering burning ice upon my forearms...
to die is a warmth here.
*Turning feathers, black and flickers,
spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning,*
He lands and screeches,
talon'd feet below,
swaddling of wispy bandages
knees bent in reverse,
awkward pose o'er me
I look up and I see!
*Turning feathers, black and flickers,
spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning,*
Creature of arms species of wings, bandied, banded...
almonded eyes so black, large, -peering.
FUP-FUP-FUP
It knows of pain.
To deliver me, -here.
...away from the world
I exist in short space,
I lean back my haunches,
expiate my yeornful heart!
Torn out but beating and in pain no more?
I am leaving with this messenger...
*Turning feathers, black and flickers,
spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning,*
To the Van...
to the van...
*Turning feathers, black and flickers,
spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning.*
...spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning.
...spinning, spinning, spinning, spinning.
Feb 9, 2017
Feb 9, 2017 at 7:55 PM UTC
People think it, a test to institute upon _to be out off their morals rubicund _and therefore comply it to the unyielding duty of others _on pretext dully that they should not be upset at fact , only expiate them alone _the reason of divine patience seldom for their due reverence, but their vulgarity ...
The reason of this fore stated, lays in the fact that : some individuals deliberately crudely hurt others or their surrounding, but rather apprehend in advance how conciliate solicitous the others should reaction in the case of their intentionally perpetrated aggression . facilis descensus avernis, they give no regard .
Therefore if you are lovers, dont fail your partner and make it a point of probing test upon the fondness of her or his love .
If you are parents or children dont say hard words or ill treat you parents or siblings {accordingly to each position } and expect it, better way to cast a look about submission or paid respect to adulthood nor a gabbling sports .
Love needs mutual confidence .
Any little doubt of one side is doubly resented by the other .
The practice of good is well reverenced .
And real love casts off fear and ill apprehension .
So why try to do bad, when you know that it will bring nothing but trouble ?
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 12:08 PM UTC
but not consecrated, nothing holy. 'bout me, excluding this bodies holies, by which I blatant blather re
my hole-ies,
the sane same places thru we ******
intake
expiate
initiate
the most
intimate
intense
purely
human activities
breathing
excretion
speak
see
hear
make love
completely
hell
maybe the
places
we get
consecrated
**** ain't that iron ironic
or is this just another con
centric to human existence
Jun 7, 2025
Jun 7, 2025 at 9:02 AM UTC
People think it, a test to institute upon _to be out off their morals rubicund _and therefore comply it to the unyielding duty of others _on pretext dully that they should not be upset at fact , only expiate them alone _the reason of divine patience seldom for their due reverence, but their vulgarity ...
The reason of this fore stated, lays in the fact that : some individuals deliberately crudely hurt others or their surrounding, but rather apprehend in advance how conciliate solicitous the others should reaction in the case of their intentionally perpetrated aggression . facilis descensus avernis, they give no regard .
Therefore if you are lovers, dont fail your partner and make it a point of probing test upon the fondness of her or his love .
If you are parents or children dont say hard words or ill treat you parents or siblings {accordingly to each position } and expect it, better way to cast a look about submission or paid respect to adulthood nor a gabbling sports .
Love needs mutual confidence .
Any little doubt of one side is doubly resented by the other .
The practice of good is well reverenced .
And real love casts off fear and ill apprehension .
So why try to do bad, when you know that it will bring nothing but trouble ?
Nov 18, 2015
Nov 18, 2015 at 10:00 AM UTC
I want to see her one more time;
One more time to say the things
I should have said before;
One more time to say I’m sorry
and how much I deplore
the ill-concealed behaviour
that she could not ignore.
I want to see her one more time;
One more time to gaze upon
that so beloved face;
One more time to visualise
that look of peace and grace
so unappreciated
while it was commonplace
If only I could see her one more time,
I’d be able to expiate my crime,
express contrition
for that disgraceful act
unintentionally hurtful
and more a lack of tact.
If I were granted only one more time.
Nov 30, 2016
Nov 30, 2016 at 7:52 AM UTC
I am the liquefying touch
Of boundless intrigue,
The thin coating
Over the map of anthropogenic
Wisdom, the thick seas
Dividing lands and soil,
The clear droplets
That slide down windows,
Burst with energy,
Coagulate with brotherhood.
I divide people,
I join masses,
I scorch the Earth
And I flood its plains,
I drink the verve
Of fallen comrades,
Expiate the sorrows
Swollen with God's irate shouts
And I shake the Earth's core,
Pour my brethren upon
Boundless grasslands and plains.
I am ambivalent emotion
Sprung from fountains
Of unobtainable youth,
Spry and fresh like grateful pride,
I am light in darkness,
Confounding isolation,
Unbearable dissociation,
Conceivable admiration,
But most of all,
And this rings true,
I am life itself
And I stick to everything
Around me and you.
Sep 10, 2015
Sep 10, 2015 at 6:33 PM UTC
Thank you, oh sweet Lord,
For your selfless sacrifice,
To expiate sin.
Unworthy we are,
Yet you love us still, each one,
Died that we may live.
You are risen, Lord,
That our souls might rise as well,
Beyond death's dark veil.
Apr 9, 2023
Apr 9, 2023 at 1:50 AM UTC
I want to see her one more time;
One more time to say the things
I should have said before;
One more time to say I’m sorry
and how much I deplore
the ill-concealed behaviour
that she could not ignore.
I want to see her one more time;
One more time to gaze upon
that so beloved face;
One more time to visualise
that look of peace and grace
so unappreciated
while it was commonplace
If only I could see her one more time,
I’d be able to expiate my crime.
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 4:24 AM UTC
My glass shall not persuade me I am old,
So long as youth and thou are of one date;
But when in thee time's furrows I behold,
Then look I death my days should expiate.
For all that beauty that doth cover thee,
Is but the seemly raiment of my heart,
Which in thy breast doth live, as thine in me:
How can I then be elder than thou art?
O! therefore, love, be of thyself so wary
As I, not for myself, but for thee will;
Bearing thy heart, which I will keep so chary
As tender nurse her babe from faring ill.
Presume not on thy heart when mine is slain,
Thou gav'st me thine not to give back again.
May 16, 2020
May 16, 2020 at 9:37 AM UTC
Lexical littorals illiterate foal
Talus and cirque shore and shoal
Iconoclast anarchy vortex knoll
****** matrix vertex peak
Semantic regalia flux and seek
Torrid allusions own and keep
Dichotomy paradox surge and swell
Primordial integumence purge and fell
Contiguity confluence dirge and knell
Reliquiae requiem show and tell
Accession assertion deliberative need
Transcendent ascension expiate seed
Subordinate ancillary exigency deed
Subliminal subjunctive sensorium seethe
Uxorious usury detinue blithe
Contiguous currency decimate tithe
Tractive proximity critical lithe
Delusory phantasm futurity kithe
Alacritous tactile acuity interstice
Accidence ambience resonance quipy pith
Scenario synopsis resilience gist
Endergonic protensive progressiveness rift
Prestissimo preterite retroactive gift
Poignant puissance piquant myth
Fable fantasticate legend list
Preternatural gesticulate proclivity pith
Propensity assimilate diabolical mist
********** fornicate zooidal kist
Parenthetical erudite erumpence fist
Quiescent gossamer lecherous wrist
Militant mercenary actuator aorist
Mar 16, 2018
Mar 16, 2018 at 7:07 PM UTC
Having her by my side
Was a major coup of mine.
But now she's not around,
with sins my hands were bound.
The weight of guilt is difficult to bear,
Yet lost in her memories while having beer;
The sour remembrance of better days
and the sweet essence of bitter fights,
There are sins to expiate but
redemption lies in remembrance.
Dec 15, 2019
Dec 15, 2019 at 8:13 AM UTC
Lexical littorals illiterate foal
Talus and cirque shore and shoal
Iconoclast anarchy vortex knoll
****** matrix vertex peak
Semantic regalia flux and seek
Torrid allusions own and keep
Dichotomy paradox surge and swell
Primordial integumence purge and fell
Contiguity confluence dirge and knell
Reliquiae requiem show and tell
Accession assertion deliberative need
Transcendent ascension expiate seed
Subordinate ancillary exigency deed
Subliminal subjunctive sensorium seethe
Uxorious usury detinue blithe
Contiguous currency decimate tithe
Tractive proximity critical lithe
Delusory phantasm futurity kithe
Alacritous tactile acuity interstice
Accidence ambience resonance quipy pith
Scenario synopsis resilience gist
Endergonic protensive progressiveness rift
Prestissimo preterite retroactive gift
Poignant puissance piquant myth
Fable fantasticate legend list
Preternatural gesticulate proclivity pith
Propensity assimilate diabolical mist
********** fornicate zooidal kist
Parenthetical erudite erumpence fist
Quiescent gossamer lecherous wrist
Militant mercenary actuator aorist
May 1, 2022
May 1, 2022 at 11:07 PM UTC
I swim a sea that has no shore or bottom
The North Star hides behind a cloudy sky
The winds increase with every passing moment.
The waves, once flat, are looming very high.
A jellyfish has stung me on the ankle.
My side is knotted in a painful cramp.
My arms are growing numb with endless flailing
And the clockwork of my mind has gotten damp.
Before the rust locks down all hope of thinking
I must tread salty water for a span;
Stop contemplating how I dumbly got here,
Somehow devise a working rescue plan.
Can hope be found amidst the desolation
Of knowing all the errors that I’ve made:
Believing I somehow could walk on water
It didn’t matter how my game was played.
Though I had several copies of the rule book
I never found the time to sit and read,
So I jumped in, expecting native cunning
To lift me to the top, where I would lead
Those lacking my superior perception
To places they had only dreamed about.
I’d be hailed and lauded as a savior-
Instead I only heard the fearful shout
Of those who swim behind me in an ocean
That shows no sign of coming to a beach-
That certainly will pull us down and drown us
As angry yells become a frightened screech.
The sea I swim that has no shore or bottom
Is really just my ego in disguise-
So big it blocked my vision and my hearing
Til only now, at last, I’ve heard the cries
Of hopes too waterlogged to keep on floating
Of soggy dreams that never can come true- more
Of efforts wasted training in a puddle-
Of agonizing clarity of view.
At last I’ve come to recognize this ocean.
I know what’s on the nonexistent shore.
It’s swim or sink so I keep stroking forward
Although there is no reason any more.
And though my strength is quickly disappearing,
There’s really nothing that I haven’t tried.
So I just flounder onward in my struggle
To somehow make it to the other side.
Knowing there is no one there to greet me-
Knowing there is nothing there at all-
Knowing that no miracle will save me-
No one will ever see the tears that fall
In vain attempt to expiate my folly;
To pay atonement for the things I’ve lost.
To somehow make my life not end up wasted-
To gain some value from it’s painful cost.
So left arm, right arm, kick, kick, kick.
I gain an inch and just as often lose one
The sea I swim that has no shore or bottom
Will take me with the rising of the sun.
ljm
Dec 30, 2023
Dec 30, 2023 at 12:53 PM UTC
Thank you, oh sweet Lord,
For your selfless sacrifice,
To expiate sin.
Unworthy we are,
Yet you love us still, each one,
Died that we may live.
You are risen, Lord,
That our souls might rise as well,
Beyond death's dark veil.
Apr 21, 2019
Apr 21, 2019 at 11:33 AM UTC
A smile
that was clean
lustrous, and desired
No one thought
that change
would hit upon
One's ire
It hurts
The pain she wallows
There is no understanding
Lossless hallow
Peaceful burden
Depth of depression
It seems artificial
So naive
And unforbidden
The hatred that conspired
It is not of haught
I have lost
A painless thought
Expiating a tale
of a woman
whose gale
I couldn't expiate.
May 17, 2018
May 17, 2018 at 10:47 PM UTC