"foreclose" poems
i fold my head into the
thin envelope of her arms
then she folds me into
the small space between her words
keeps me there for a time measured only
in the beads of sweat that gather on her
near perfect brow
she wipes me from memory and
deposits me on the pavement
the cold air shrinks me
the hot sun expands me
i cover her with evidence of wicked eyes
and impressions of nibble marks
i surf her skin with touches
that rival thouse that her nightmares
and the things her deepest desires are made of
her innocent demure hides her favorite things
jean nate scents spread like a casual laugh
i kiss her mind with the story vision thought dream of me and her
spending the night with some other honey pie
i relive myself on her essence
with the words that gave birth to her current personality
she changes faces
its just a metaphor
and she cant hide the fact she is ill at ease
with this nearness
this untamed and unpredictable
she needs on many levels to feel like she
is in control of somthing
i fold my head onto her lap
but the process has changed
she can no longer sustain the madness of this method
she can no longer pretend
that she can not cheapen herself for her own gain
for her own loss
that in the end she cannot deny
it is she who must choose the lesser of two evils
i would rescue her from this fate of her choosing
but i am beyond redemption in her eyes
and i am intent on this not becoming a fishing trip
casting out lines in hopes of
finding a future in the
destitute but romantic face of streetlife
or motel shuffle carpet baggers
after much wailing
at the little gain for much expense
and endless beating of the quality of life dead horse
we found common ground
which without a doubt will get some
banker trying to foreclose on at some point
but for the moment its just the three of us
verses the world
armed with a rubber duck and a bucket of rice
Oct 15, 2013
Oct 15, 2013 at 3:09 PM UTC
Madison Avenue
thousand dollar suits, fancy silk tie
slicked back hair, he's a helluva guy
he'll pick your pocket, do what he has to do
to stay on top on Madison Avenue
foreclose your loan, increase your rate
charge you more, if you are late
no don't bend over, he'll give it to you
do what he needs on Madison Avenue
he will lie to his mother, cheat on his wife
whatever it takes, to maintain his life
hold his breath until, his face turns blue
got to have it his way, on Madison Avenue
just how large, does his account need be
when is it enough, to make him see
he's so **** smart, but doesn't have a clue
his life is all about, Madison Avenue
government bailouts, rewards for greed
while jobless workers, walk streets with need
have my doubts, that we thought it through
keeping the hot shots hot, on Madison Avenue
we slap their wrists, say don't do it again
they claim they won't, but behind they grin
they know they can do, just want they want to
nothing seems to change, on Madison Avenue
Gomer LePoet...
Sep 1, 2011
Sep 1, 2011 at 7:00 AM UTC
Affluent men taketh and foreclose thy dormitory residence
They smirk and grin with their polka dotted ties
They loveth to giveth pain
They laugh to poor man's suicide
They build skyscraper's to thy sky
Metal steel to beam star high
Animal's tis they hunt as trophie's
Whilst African and even American babies art choking
From no food nor water!!!!!!!
They drop acidic gas for slaughter
Whilst putting chemical's in the turf
Slug round's to virginal church
They've scoffed high Jehovah
Made **** their Ponderosa
Wriggling worms
Master artists of DEATH
Selleth thy soul to the world dear reader
And thou shalt taketh thy last breathe
For they've madeth man focus on media ****
****** thee by breast's
They Maketh women a harlot *****
They telleth them what they should be
Giveth them fifty bucks
For girly magazines
But these art the Queen's
That the howler's corrupted their image
Man of no humbling
Devilish scrimmage
As he also maketh men
Robots to his illusion
Giveth him archery
They calleth them soldier brainwashed timid's
They run ourn own weather
( DARPA) run by the government beast
Stick poles in the ground
(Search it in Alaska) thou shalt seeith
Mankind thinks this weather is natural
As natural they tryeth to be
Disillusioned by fact's soon
Their chapter shalt be seen
Their heads will be bowed
Tasting the ash
Their law's of soo called justice
Kiss mine ***
No I don't cuss ( not a cusser honest)
But I'm overboard now
Sick of the molestation of ourn being's, creature's, And GLOBE overflowed!!!!
The blinded eyes
Are woozy by robes
But guess what dearest?
Almost the end of the show.......
Jun 26, 2015
Jun 26, 2015 at 12:43 PM UTC
Can you hear the sounds of summer silence?
Listen closely, listen closely
close your eyes, let summer take over
Expose every emotion inside your heart
Transpose beautiful noises outside
Foreclose all your worries
Summer silence
Free your soul, free your soul
Be yourself, become whole again
Summer silence
Summer silence
Birds have broke the silence of summer
fly high into summer
Birds fly, birds fly
Become whole again
control, control
Summer silence
Summer silence
Can you hear the sounds of summer?
Listen, listen
Close your eyes tight
Dream, dream until the light goes
down
Expose every emotion inside your heart
transpose a new day
Foreclose all your worries today
Transpose, transpose
Free yourself, take time to become whole
again
Enjoy the summer silence
May 20, 2018
May 20, 2018 at 2:49 PM UTC
A blue door in Paris,
on the streets,
hides behind it secrets,
a knock, to the sharp tap,
allows the entrance of a man,
in what secrets,
does this sonderous doors foreclose,
and holds to its building,
the stories of lovers and tearaways,
that once resided therein,
and lived,
lives either great or poor,
thunderous torrents or gentle drops of rain,
by the blue door,
men and women have met,
they may have left together or apart,
gone in or walked away,
on the grand depart,
a tour de force de France,
London brigands, French vagabonds and German villains,
Spanish pickpockets, Italian bravos and Greek philosophers,
sad fools, great minds alike have stood outside this door,
the tourist, the local, the lost boys,
have found their time taken by this road,
each step a tick of life,
in this smouldering suburb,
this urban chaos and shuddering grassland,
this lawn of cobbled stones,
to the blue door,
of wood and brass,
etched reflections in the frame,
glass captures portraits of those many names,
in the blue door in Paris.
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
Contempt of court –
The legal term for a charge
Levelled against those who dare
Those whose emotions and criticisms are laid bare
In front of judge and jury.
Contempt of court
Is when one is disobedient, or discourteous,
In the face of a system which is injurious;
It is the charge
That snaps one’s knees into bending,
That makes your dignity cave
And one’s case never-ending.
To oppose or defy the authority of the courts
Is viewed as improper, an act
That will have you prosecuted by your own cohorts.
Fellow human beings
Tasked with the imprisonment of another
Brother turning on brother
As the wheels of justice turn and grind,
Leaving trails of lost lives behind.
Contempt of court
Is a feeling I find difficult to abort –
How can I respect an institution
That is responsible for the destitution
Of societal morality?
It is the court’s stated responsibility
To maintain order and propagate
Fairness and equality for all,
To scrutinise and investigate
Not just crimes committed
By men and women struggling to make ends meet,
Putting their heads together so they can eat,
But those
Who hide behind banks and get to foreclose
Not just our homes but also, our dreams and hopes.
If you want me to respect the court,
I want the court to enforce laws justly.
If you want me to respect the authorities,
I want the authorities to stop lying to us so abruptly.
If we are to have authorities and laws
I want sensible, sustainable laws, to be upheld everywhere
Not to be iron-fisted with some,
A velvet glove with another.
If I ever see
A banker sentenced to jail
My respect for the court I shall hail;
If I ever see
A politician swallowing his lies,
Forced to live like us, and realise
The extent of the damage that they wreaked
If I ever see
An abusive or corrupt judge
On the other side of the gallows,
Locked up and told when to exist like a drudge
Then
Only then
Will I shed this contempt
Only then
Will I be content.
May 8, 2018
May 8, 2018 at 11:29 AM UTC
my home is welcome all my own go foreclose the banks so dance I yell bang pots and pans play christmas music in july forget using coasters eat all the food fry marshmallows with candle lighters set off smoke detector and no one knows no landlord can find no obligation to make the bed vacuum talk in the hallway put earplugs answer the phone can I yes come go as I please never a tagalong never pretend I don't live there I will be too honest and turn off the lights I will never be quiet I will jump on the couch cushions and bounce on the bed blow bubbles in tea and make a huge mess I can have anyone over whenever I like or no one at all I will never be careful. And in my house I don't cry into pillows.
Jul 9, 2015
Jul 9, 2015 at 12:58 AM UTC
By I am as you were
13 January 2023
Shaken by the possibility you would,
I will be,
To foreclose you.
I am not yet.
To become, you come, expecting my birth.
I cannot be born. I would be as you are.
Do not mourn the pain you will not bear.
We were never.,
Here!
Jan 13, 2023
Jan 13, 2023 at 9:14 PM UTC
I have taken to writing on receipt paper,
Sitting in the bar alone, sipping pints
And listening to all of the nonsense talk
From the revelling crowd.
Each one of us troubles with the fault lines
That appear on our faces, over the passing
Of the years. I don’t know what I’m writing
For anymore. There no career path in place
To make the whole dam thing work.
I know I should shelve my poems for a rainy day,
To refine them and sell them off as if they are art.
But, I see no value in the bulging of my wallet,
Save for the purchasing of cheap seats and wine.
So, why would I ever foreclose the spaces that I
Live in, when all I want is to be
A voice at the end of the line?
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 9:15 PM UTC
Where the pace is slow
Where everyone is not in a hurry to go
Where there is nothing like the smell of fresh cut hay
Where something that simple will make your day
Where everyone on the highway waves
Where the country store is the place to go
Where everyone knows the difference in a buck and doe
Where your time is spent fishing
Not setting around wishing
Where there is a country fair
Where Grandpa and Grandma set on the porch
in their favorite chairs
Where you can see and try counting the stars
Not spending all night in the bars
Where neighbor looks after neighbor
Where they put up a barn and share the labor
Where the garden is your farmers market
Where everyone drives a truck
Where when you get stuck in the mud it does not ****
Where the roosters crow
The rivers flow
Where the banks want foreclose
Where the chickens are free range
That will never change
Where you still hand milk the cow
and the dinner table is always full of country chow
I love the country life
!!
Apr 21, 2016
Apr 21, 2016 at 7:00 PM UTC
Prove me wrong
I need to know
If all along I've come to grow
Into my own Bushido code
Of conduct guiding me to show
How good intentions paved this road
With my abode's most humble tone
To build a hearth of stone for those
To melt their souls adorned in gold
And sleep in spirit's selfless home
Or just to fill this house alone
With all the seeds we humans sowed
As bombs explode and we foreclose
On bungalows and debts we've owed
To others' woes and sin atones
Colossusses of ancient Rhodes
The person that to be you chose
To roam this earth, renounce the thrones
For all this power shall erode
To nothing more than buried bones
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 2:37 AM UTC
hither the skies,
forearms doth mere bare
hither the blue,
his eyes everywhere
hither the lush,
hither the green,
Doth may seem keen
Thy eyes foreclose melted plants,
tracing it down as a cherub,
growing, fermenting, sun and starch
Hither thy heart a mere cherub,
growing fermenting, sunlight and green,
melted plants and melted jove
melted are eyes that bear oceans of wilderness
And depths of blue,
And death of plant,
Sings death of heart, broken and lost
little cherub amust
Thy seed poisoned with hate,
grows into a vile serpent
Sunlight doth seems away,
rain and storm brings to stay
Away with rain,
thy heart mourns to grow
Nurture the seed
It doth not need to throw
Away the pain thy leaves hide
growing yet repenting
underneath skies
who art the skies,
who art thee,
Art thou not
A man like me?
Jul 4, 2018
Jul 4, 2018 at 1:52 AM UTC