"flouting" poems
There's an architect designing the world from the skyline downwards, as he believes himself to be a God
The paraffin lamps on Victorian cobbled corners are as dry as the seraph in dust bowls over some arid sea
A portrait exists, of a town covered in mist and the orange cliffs are a thousand bloodied wrists
Somewhere music plays to ghosts, obtuse reverberations of some cave on a mountain... or something
and what a useless skill it is to be a poet, flouting fanciful words as if a single soul cared or could possibly muster anything more than unadulterated apathy
What a lonely life it is, to spend entire days watching *********** and reveling in dissociative stoicism
Watching cam girls for hours on end, swept up in conversation yet never taking part, only watching
They seem as lonely as anybody, holed up in crimson rooms as anonymous DJs play through laptop speakers
Fielding obscene questions with a smile and renting their body in timetables to the highest tipper
and some days the depression becomes so heavy that ************ seems impossible, though it's possible to blame such scarcity on the anti-anxiety meds that have ruined so many-a youthful folly
Is there a more flattering notion, than a story teller being commended for honesty when every word is a lie
Fictional accounts of melancholic lives told in a pulchritudinous verse or a prose of the most regal purples
Using nothing more than psycho-stimulants and a smeared bedroom window for inspiration
There's a writer sat at a desk, typing ridiculous lines of text, as he knows himself to be human
and in that humanity he strives to create a realists interpretation of existence through scattered memories
and derivative styles of his favourite authors whilst using educational texts as footnotes in imaginary diaries
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 2:10 PM UTC
A privet hedge..a broken gate the House with a roof tiled with Welsh slate,
a broken half open window from which the light throws shadows on the lawn..G'awn be off with you a Cockney voice shouts out.
The Camera pans.
A street,quite neat and real rare around these parts..two lovers on the corner sharing hearts..as if they could beat as one..
Move on there movie man the cop shouts from the black and tan.
The camera pans.
Traffic light that's stuck on green..a crowd gathers." I've never seen the like "..An old girls cry.."Someone will get hurt or even die,call the police "..as if they would bother their fat *** cans..
The camera pans.
It spins and spins upon its pins and captures you and me..and writes in Avatars of cars and flouting clouds of blues and whites,which balance out the unfilmed nights when cameras close their cyclop eyes and digitals tell no more lies.
I rise early like a bird..I heard a camera crew is coming down to film some scenes in my home town.
An expectant hush
An excited rush and then
The camera pans.
Nov 26, 2012
Nov 26, 2012 at 1:34 PM UTC
Ah, Pinocchio--povero burattino°--
Always in a scrape; always in a jam.
The irresponsible, wooden-headed numbskull
Couldn't help but fall for every scam.
A walking, talking stringless marionette,
Pinocchio really would have had it made
In a modest home with babbo°° Gepetto.
But, instead, the foolish youngster strayed.
Ignoring the advice of the talking cricket,
Pinocchio EVEN smashed it with a hammer.
That right there should have been a reason
To throw the little rascal in the slammer.
The Fox and the Cat had no trouble
Dissuading the puppet from going to school,
Thus involving him in a series of adventures
Which often made him look like a fool.
The Fairy tried to be a good influence,
But Pinocchio's lies caused his nose to grow.
Constantly ignoring responsibilities,
The misguided boy, suffered constant woe.
(Swindled of his money, hanged on a tree,
And saved just in the nick of time
From being eaten, Pinocchio had
Too many adventures to fit into this rhyme.)
Fleeing with his lazy school chum Lucignolo
To the Paese dei balocchi,°°° there Pinocc
Turned into a donkey. Of all his follies,
This one had to be a masterstroke.
Once again a puppet, Pinocchio was swallowed
By a giant Pesce-cane,°°°° and then guess what!
The foolish boy was finally reunited
With babbo Gepetto in the fish's huge gut.
NOT until Pinocchio thought about others
And proved he was an honest and caring boy
Did his fortune start to change for the better,
And the stringless puppet became the real McCoy.
Does Pinocchio by any chance remind you
Of any politicians out there at all
Who fail to listen to expert advice
And thumb their noses at common protocol?
And speaking of noses, we can also see
Politicians' noses grow as they tell lies.
Lying to themselves and to others as well
And ignoring our best interests and flouting compromise.
Such politicians--unlike Pinocchio--
Have strings to pull when performing for the masses.
The more they avoid solving REAL issues,
The more they end up looking like *****
They also love--these clever burattini--
To sell a bill of goods and promise many things.
But someone out there--or some corporation--
Is slyly and cleverly pulling their strings.
Do you ever wonder if these same politicians
Ever think about or care how you feel?
Will they eventually--as did Pinocchio--
Prove they have what it takes to be real?
°(burattino/i) - poor little puppet
°°(babbo) - dad(dy)
°°°(Paese dei balocchi) - Playland
°°°°(Pesce-cane) - shark
- by Bob B
Nov 8, 2016
Nov 8, 2016 at 2:39 PM UTC
Two Syrian women on Friday were locked in a cage full of skeletons in punishment for violating Daesh’s strict dress code in the militant group’s stronghold of Raqqa.
The London-based Observatory for Human Rights said one of the women fainted in the cage and had to be transported to one of the hospitals in the northern province, which became Daesh’s headquarters in Syria after the group took the city in 2013.
A spokesman for the local-based activist group “Raqqa is being Slaughtered Silently” also reported Daesh’ latest scare tactic against women found to have flouted the draconian rules.
Daesh recently locked a 19-year old woman in a cage full of skeletons, driving her to the point of madness, according to Mohammed Al-Salih. The spokesman did not specify whether the incident was the same as the one reported by the UK-based monitor.
Salih also said that there were “similar cases of women locked in cages with skeletons or forced to sleep overnight in a cemetery” for not wearing what Daesh deems as appropriate. More serious violations are punished by the amputation of limbs, or execution.
Video reports as well as accounts of escapees show that Daesh forces women living in its areas — whether in Syria or Iraq — to don head-to-toe garbs.
Meanwhile, the Observatory said Daesh has recently stormed homes in Raqqa and arrested 10 men suspected of spying against the group.Read more at:http://www.marieaustralia.com
May 3, 2016
May 3, 2016 at 4:31 AM UTC
She lied in the unmade hotel bed,
in nothing but dark white underwear.
Dark-green black-out curtains,
with a slit in the middle, filtered
and framed the sorrowful light
of noontime; leaving a bar of sun
That made dust waltz in the musky air,
and illuminating the small
Of the woman’s back and hips,
making the skin shine. Her husband
stood at the foot of the bed looking
in the mirror and glanced back at her
napping and she looked so harmless,
like a child− or an animal; like she had
never been hurt, or sunk her teeth in another.
Two nights before they fought about silverware,
and he watched a documentary on wildlife survival
in which a hunter strangled a rabbit to death,
and it made him wonder how it would feel
to hold the animal by the throat, while it
squirmed and cried for breath within the hand.
For some reason, He concluded it would feel
easier to smother someone to death with a pillow.
The couple decided to leave the city,
To pretend they had a fresh start,
from the fact that it had been a whole
season since they had last touched
the room came with bed made,
and complimentary soaps on the
counter.
when the woman got up,
they walked to the shore a block away.
The sun was turning red, and falling
below the feminine silhouette of the earth,
and the wind picked up moving the water,
like a mirror unfolding and dividing indefinitely.
The woman walked farther out on the gray
sand and told the man to take a picture of her,
the sun behind her illuminating each tendril of dead
skin flouting round her head like threads of dark wine.
She laughed, and the sound carried
out through the water and came back, like an
invisible
twin.
Later that night the man stood on the porch
smoking. The moon was rising and full.
He could hear the giggling of a young couple
room beyond the courtyard. They were
Skinny-dipping in the pool; the woman embraced
in the young man’s arms legs wrapped our his waist.
The old man suddenly felt warm, recalling his flash adolescence
in extinct lukewarm nights like this. A tinge of nostalgia
and regret that rose and fell for a second and then disappeared.
He then scoffed, threw the smoldering smoke off the porch,
walked back to his room, and slammed the door.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 2:50 AM UTC
Oldest of two
Responsible for none
She was always a daddy's girl
And a morning person
She quit a lot of jobs
Before she turned 20
And when she wasn't planning to marry someone
Exactly like her father
They were ripping each other's heads off
Over nothing
She had strong shoulders
Not as broad as her sister's
She started swimming later
She was always more of a runner
Than anything else
Her parents should have known
Not to let so many hopes
Ride on her
Because life savings didn't translate
Into education
Her nose was always sniffing in the wrong books
Nothing on the booklists
Flouting authority was her favorite thing
So all of daddy's money
Couldn't buy her a degree
And all the lectures
She didn't attend
Couldn't make her see a dream that wasn't hers
Truth be told
She wasn't aiming all that high in the first place
A sturdy library
A cottage in the country
A dog
A tattoo sympathetic
Honest-eyed husband
And then she picked all the wrong ones
With every broken heart
And every finished book
She called home crying
"Dad, I can't do this. I am so lost. I see the destination but not the path."
She'd been drinking again
Frequenting tattoo parlors again
It would be a lie to say he wasn't disappointed
When she could have been
A professor, a musician, an author
Or president by then
"It'll be ok," he said
And when she asked why it couldn't be better than just OK
He asked "have you been taking your meds?"
She hung up
And thought back to a time when the whole world tasted like
Beer and pretzels
Before she even knew what beer was
It was a picture on the wall
A curly-headed
Naked girl
Tiptoe on a stepping stool
Making pancakes with her daddy
So when the sun came up
Breakfast would be ready
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 7:27 PM UTC
Mushrooms the size of my angered fists are growing outside of my house;
As if there isn’t enough poison in your leaving alone!
The rain that spawned them is a nervous sweat--
The world is afraid to tell me it lied.
He gives no plea for forgiveness.
Just flouting of my emotion,
My ability to love.
The taste of your kiss still warm on my lips--
I **** fungus from between the still wet grass
There must be a bit of you in there!
It comes as a surprise: the white-gray flesh won't kiss back!
If I sink my teeth in—
I suspect I’ll be poisoned,
Where were my suspicions of you?
I should have expected your worst,
But you kissed me back, so I took advantage of that.
Why not? Your lips tasted bitter, but good.
What a terrible feeling! To
Lose my sense of pride—
Lose my sensibility.
I conclude: If I love; I lose.
I irrationally fear that they might cut down our trees--
Your poison takes all of my lovers from me
They’ll tie neon green plastic bows around trunks
And axe them down
Until I bleed—
Until the mushrooms leave.
Jul 12, 2010
Jul 12, 2010 at 10:37 AM UTC
Socially Engaged Poetry
As an effective tool for advocacy
Creating partnerships and sharing skills
A voice to the voiceless, Split this Cliché
Empowerment to the empowermentless
Through bleats of provocation and witness
Copyrighted and stereotyped
In a World That is Forever 1968
Exploring and celebrating the many ways
We can score yet another guilt-grant
Asserting the centrality of the 501C3
Through bearing witness to diversity
As long as it behaves itself and thinks like us
Accessible and yet authentic
A n d l i k e d o s t u f f w i t h s p a c e l i k e u no
cause spaces
are authentic, and,
like
stuff
Poetry as a living, breathing art form
If you listen, you can hear its respirations
Gasping in the long, dark night of group-think
Obedient to a mission statement
And the careful construction of resumes
Committee integrate complexity
Formula dampens the authentic voice
Perform this vital work imagining
Personal and social responsibility
Revolutionary transformation
Write and perform this vital work support
Of human social justice experience
Grounded in holistic spirituality
Flouting the patriarchal something-ness
An act that requires community
If you love freedom, you dare not disobey
And let all the people say “Cogent!”
Jan 23, 2017
Jan 23, 2017 at 6:15 PM UTC
Defrauding the public isn't hard
When you're one of the Trumps.
The president is especially good
At duping his loyal chumps.
So, after Trump fired James Comey,
He fired AG Sessions.
Those two firings were just a part
Of the president's indiscretions.
Next came Matthew Whitaker--
A Donald Trump lackey--
As acting AG, and whose background
Was--let's say--a bit tacky.
Now AG Barr is there
To willingly play his part
And show how he and Trump are both
Connected heart to heart.
Barr's recent appointment has
Very clearly shown
That the president has managed
To get his Roy Cohn.
Keeping Congress from seeing the full
Mueller report, Barr
Acts LESS like a fair AG
And MORE like a czar.
Flouting the rule of law, Trump
And Barr, political hacks,
Can end up doing a lot of damage
Behind Americans' backs.
Now Barr has mentioned the word
"Spying." It never fails
That Trump's appointees tend to go
Completely off the rails.
Making Trump a victim only
Satisfies his base.
Trump and Barr don't care whether
Their actions are a disgrace.
Now the tinfoil-hat group can say
"All the acrimony
Toward Trump is a nasty plot."
What a bunch of baloney!
Our leadership has never been
So chaotic. Never!
Elections, they say, have consequences.
Boy do they ever!
-by Bob B (4-11-19)
Apr 11, 2019
Apr 11, 2019 at 1:49 PM UTC
*
Sheltered in Your love,
My heart moves to trust.
Breaking, Cracking
Unlocking the shells of fears
and stretching the wings
Towards true freedom
I dream of flying
Along with your clouds
Nurtured in your lust,
My body grooms to rest.
Breaching, flouting
Unveiling the mask of tears
And pulling the hands
Towards right liberty
I dream of floating
Along with your waves
Stay closer, you whisper
And grow up in my care.
Drink my lips of wine
To make you so divine
Grow strong and be fine
in my embrace.
Your moment will come
When we will fly
Together.
The wind catches my wings;
I feel trembling of future soaring.
I breathe in the wind
and stretch my wings.
Then I turn to You,
My true love,
My true freedom.
Finding comfort in your hug
I rest near Your Heart
to dream again again…
*
By Williamsji Maveli
Email:[email protected]
Jan 18, 2013
Jan 18, 2013 at 11:42 PM UTC
Glistening, glimmering in the night
you make me feel so beautifuly bright
flouting in the dark for the world to embrace
but all i can see is your smiling face
You stand on the hill top tall
howling form be above all
your fur so soft an warm
your heart so calm even in this storm
As the moon, my rays kiss your cheek
giving you the comfort you seek
i whisper in wind i am always here for you
for Wolf and Moons love is eternally true
Feb 13, 2016
Feb 13, 2016 at 9:55 PM UTC
Did you barter for your cow-eyes?
Trade a lock of hair - or David's lyre?
For the right to the king,
The golden apple. Taking a bite of (lust.)
the knowledge of good, evil, and discord.
Looking into the eye of the LORD
(saying mine, all mine.)
For a soak in full view- seems a glimpse was all it took (but you took it all).
Bathsheba - mastering Venus, flouting Juno-
Did you barter for your white arms?
Nov 30, 2012
Nov 30, 2012 at 2:55 PM UTC
I saw you there, I kept the image in my mind, to feed my despair,
And your hair...
The freckles on your shoulders.
Your smell, your legs, like there were noplace and someplace, bulky and warm like Christmas at the bottom of life where everything was naked.
I carried my heart in yours.
You were the rainy-sun-danse, a novelty in a stormy-wood-wroten-backwoods. Indiana suburban mythology dictated of such a fair maiden, one born of wild disparity, from the family of spiritual cynics. I've come to admire you, that much I know. A mouth divided like Africa, arbitrarily and in a fit of greed, like a hispanic german jew, flouting her sensuality, folded harmony, sweet, messy, youthful, rude, a symbol.
You're my everything and I don't know why, two days gone and I was in so much pain, I figured nothing out.
If I were really inlove with you, you'd be inlove too.
And I love you,
therefore you love me too.
Aug 4, 2017
Aug 4, 2017 at 2:05 PM UTC
Give him a chance, people say.
Give Trump a chance; let go of fears.
The SAME chance Republicans gave
President Obama for the last eight years?
From the beginning Republicans
In Congress superciliously vowed
That President Obama would serve
Only one term. They felt so proud.
Pushing their petty partisan agenda
And blocking proposals with all their might,
They perfected the art of obstruction
And did it with insidious delight.
Calling the president a liar
And his birth certificate a fraud,
They displayed contempt for their leader
With reasoning that was greatly flawed.
It's dereliction of duty when
Republicans, the Party of NO,
Refuse to confirm a Supreme Court justice
With all their lame excuses in tow.
Flouting the very institutions
That normally make a democracy succeed,
Unethical members of Congress have
Only made our democracy bleed.
Their mindless obstruction, along with their
Unprecedented disrespect,
Is partly why we have a populist
Demagogue as president-elect.
NOW they say to give the next
President the respect that is due.
It doesn't work that way; they can't
Have their cake and eat it, too.
- by Bob B (11-17-16)
Nov 17, 2016
Nov 17, 2016 at 10:24 PM UTC
For many long hours the wind hasn't abated
It's blusters are rather agitated
Street paper and leaves hurled about
Tree boughs bending in the fast paced throng
No doubt the gales whisk is verily strong
Birds are getting buffeted in the sky
There's no respite from the wind's speedy fly
My back door just let out a slamming shout
Those south westerlies are ripping affairs
Throughout this day they'll be flouting their airs
A turbulence called in our regions
Bringing currents that are rapid of whirl
They bear a truly unabashed twirl
We'd gladly farewell their gusting legions
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 6:03 PM UTC
Fizzle out
Feign it
You're in
Wish you
The very best
In the club of lonely children
Don't you wish
You could've seen
The billboards of the long highway
Flouting your fancies
Forgetting every noisy minute
That soon you'd resent
The loss of the signs
You didn't see along the way
You brought you
To this filthy new start
The very best
Wish you'd
Feign it
I am
In too
Fizzle out
May 19, 2012
May 19, 2012 at 10:52 PM UTC
Supermarket tripping
Nuts & Dried Fruits
the Ethnic Aisle
How do they get away with saying that?
perplexed
shoplifter shackled
on display, as if a warning
Seven Box Sale
of Broccoli Au Gratin Rice
Why seven?
"Pickled Beets Tormented"
an undiscovered Jackson *******
smashed glass and splattered pink
on speckled linoleum
with infused grime
from 1956
Art is splashing everywhere
large scale proportional
and messy little mix-ups
Rancor is now spreadable product
it's right next to the sarcasm
found in the Fear Aisle
feel the chills
frozen food fraternizing
with my canned goods
Was that flattery or flouting?
from Deli Counter
take three numbers from ticket dispenser
I pocket two
call for, "78"
"78 - 78"
"79 - 79 - 79, does someone have 79?"
I stay silent
"80 - 80 Is someone holding ticket 80?"
Chanel suited business woman
at my side
tapping stiletto
upper lip curled
eyes periscope about
She spots my ticket
blurting, "You have 80, Fella"
her index finger flickers
in time with toe tapping
My line: "Oh I thought that was 08"
there's a huge "HUFF"
as she wheelies cart away
Rudy, from behind counter, winks
We've been collaborating art for years
Mar 21, 2016
Mar 21, 2016 at 4:17 PM UTC
We step into existence from beyond the veil
With our fate stamped upon our souls.
Marking distinctions between science and faith
We find ourselves advancing through the cycle of life.
The Leapster or Leap Year baby
Shares a joke with the cosmos
Flouting our concept of time
To be born within times eternal spring
In life's cycle of ever green
We look to the stars
In order to be seen.
Mar 1, 2020
Mar 1, 2020 at 6:03 AM UTC
We can talk all night
About the things we like
Or we can take this time
To turn each other out.
You know you wanna it too
Tonight my times’ with you
Kiss you there, and touch you here
Close your eyes we almost there.
So close to heaven
Flouting on cloud nine
Clear your mind
Tonight we gonna fly.
Cause when I kiss your neck
I touch your soul
And when I pull your hair
You’ll lose control.
Now baby wouldn’t it be sweet
If all night I was with you
Hold you tight and
Kiss you through and through....
Dec 22, 2018
Dec 22, 2018 at 11:47 PM UTC
A hidden corner's shadowy cast,
a trapped reliquary,
unfashionables crafted in the past,
pending rebirth.
Banished by media teacher gurus,
punished for flouting current taste lore,
distressed, wasted, awaiting expert pleasure.
Aug 12, 2016
Aug 12, 2016 at 6:15 AM UTC
Crouching demon on my bed
Flouting reason, bringing dread
Crouching demon of yesterday's me
Vouching freedom for shamed crazy
If you had eyes they'd surely shine
But to some surprise I merely find
Instead of sections of fear and fire
A gaunt reflection of my reared desire
Crouching demon, don't choose me
I fling freedom at a bruise I call envy
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 11:45 AM UTC
the wind
the wind
it howls and howls
it howls its howls
in howling expression
it howls its howls
out of repression
it howls and howls
long its sprite
it howls and howls
not being contrite
it howls and howls
in howling verve
it howls and howls
unperturbed
it howls and howls
flouting its air
it howls and howls
everywhere
the wind
the wind
it howls and howls
with a howling
scowl
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 5:10 AM UTC
I needeth one to discern me,
An intimate tease,
Wherein laungerie is seduction,
Diradic, no diffident!!!
I seeketh something different!!!
A paw and a footprint as fidelity
Tattoos our portion,
No flouting distortion
No love loss abortion!!!
A juxtapose of hot waxed surreptitious!!!
Synthesis to succumb to,
A queen of mine to run through
Both revered in dialect language!!!
No baggage,
Nor any drainage,
No virulent acute scrutiny!!!!
A grand symphony!
Jun 3, 2015
Jun 3, 2015 at 11:46 AM UTC
An unpredictable man has hardware
Flouting its strong resolve for us to see
A missile projecting with awful scare
The world pleads his insane obsession's flee
Diplomacy's will urges a quelling
Our quaking planet seems truly unsafe
Danger's loud note he's lately spelling
We're hearing the meaning of rasping chafe
Containing his ambitions no easy task
A deaf ear chosen by commo warhead
Why is the question we must now ask
The provocation feels like a dire dread
International sanctions ***** him down
May they limit the threat's barbed crown
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 8:07 PM UTC
I think I'm tired
My body feels restless but my mind is always ignited
I always feel like it's moving from one possibility to the next
Like a shark
If a shark stops swimming it will die
If I stop allowing my mind to turn back and forth I will succumb to my body
I can see my chest rise and fall but I no longer know if anything is alive inside me
You would think that flowers grow in the sunlight but that's not always the case
Some grow in the shade
And I don't want to fall behind
But I no longer know my place
I'm not sure where I stand
I feel like my brain doesn't get enough blood
It's all been rushed to my heart to keep it pumping
To keep it from shattering under the pressure of my chest
I cut because of something you said
It made my heart hurt
I felt it stutter and stop for a second
You still control so much of me
Do not call me strong
I had to prove her wrong
I had to not keep her words in my gut
I had to get them out
I can't tell anyone
They all think I've stopped
So this is our little secret and everything will be okay
Everything will be okay
Will be okay
Will be okay
Will be okay
You can't make yourself not feel
Even emptiness is something that's felt
You can feel the air inside you where your organs used to be
You can feel your soul flouting around in you
Tell me you don't feel that
Even when I feel empty I can feel your words being the only dense matter inside me
And when I try to let go it just breaks up into pieces refusing to vacate
And all I do is just breathe
Not fully aware that you are still so very much alive in me
I was hoping you would have died months ago
I can see my chest rise and fall
But I know I'm just bringing in air
Air that pushes you around
All the blood goes to my heart because it's trying to fix what you destroyed
Flowers can't survive a hail storm
Nov 14, 2015
Nov 14, 2015 at 4:36 AM UTC