"forthright" poems
Mania. Everything was good when you were with me.
I felt normal. The chains bolted to my eyelids where magically gone, like the money in your bank account after a heavy, drunken, stupor & forthright gambling spree.
The spear in my side that your twin brother, depression, threw inside me was no longer twisting up my insides. Thank you.
This feels like a goodbye letter but I'm actually trying to hold on to you. You give me life. Your twin takes it away and he rash-burns my face in it.
I was accomplishing all the things; skipping from one stone to the next without feat. "Flutter your wings and dance," is your motto.
But like all good things, you drive me away, knowing that I'll see you again.
Try as I might, I remain faithful to you, but you commit adultery every week.
Sometimes you demand my time, even when I'm low. I cry for hours with your natural dichotomy, not because I can't decide--I can--but because you and your twin rip me apart in twain, changing my reality as sure as the rain falls in the Amazon.
The demons call out to me, whispering evil into my mind. I believe every evil thing when I am not armed with your brilliance. I lose that perspective, every time, and sometimes immediately.
Your twin brother and cousin visit me early in the morning right before bed time. If my doubts and fears are real, then my mind's eye is experiencing a real reality, and thus I am as I feel, like a plastic bag tumbling in the wind.
Yet, everyone reminds me that I am but a joke and a comic, one which not even you can trust.
The biggest asset I lose when you choose to cheat on me is your energy--that precious flow that bears my creative passion.
But now I am barren, an unfit conduit that is incapable of maintaining that flow. The demon upon me powerfully weaves its tapestry of sludge that encases my mind.
My mind, it's the only thing I have left. And yet, I can never trust it.
You've lied to me before and you'll lie to me in the future.
But for now, I'll have to make do with your half-truths.
Until next time.
Jan 17, 2018
Jan 17, 2018 at 3:55 AM UTC
The stereotype of the female type/ packing more than you give yourself credit for/
Spineless, backstabbing ******* in backless dresses fronting to impress dogs who are/
Barking at ******* that are easy to prey on/ hoping to get a good **** to sniff/
While your tail is out there waggin/ makin’ their tongues turn stiff/
There are many who live in that dog eat dog world/ And boy it can get pretty rough out there/ catch that innuendo?
You see, effing around is simple and it works like this; you F what you see/
Sometimes you find what you think to be ‘the one’ only to be deceived/
Because you believed what you saw and didn’t take the time to dig deep/
Next thing you know, your heart has been sunk in the pool of tears you weep/
You resort to a resolution to that’s easy to keep/ rectify to the erectified/
Yes, maybe some of this is harsh/ but if you cant handle the truth/
You wont know the difference between what’s right and wrong to do/
There’s a difference between a princess and a queen/
A princess who’s prince-less will settle for the frog/
While a queen knows how to stand on her own two feet/
Royalty is respected and they stand tough even when they’re rejected/
It’s hard to see something beautiful be used by a tool who’ll/
Only add her to the collection of his tool box/ then look for a new one/
But the reality of realism is/ reality can be pretty unreal sometimes/
And Miss Congeniality secretly believes the fallacy/ she wasn’t born to shine/
Selling herself at a price her mom would hate to see/
Giving out discounts because she can’t even count on herself/
The worst part is, it’s all manipulating her moral health/
And it’s demeaning her demeanor, being treated like Miss Demeanor/
But she didn’t mean for/ her life to turn to this/
She made three-left turns/ only to find the fourth right doesn’t exist/
Maybe a forthright person is all it takes to set her straight/
Boost her confidence/ make her feel great/ and tell her it’s never too late/
To find a new place to start over/ and get your mind in a better state/
That’s why this poem is called Tulip Teaser/ your own two lips are teasing you/
Impeding you from being you/ misleading you through your own garden/
But you’re better than that/ and there’s more to your garden than you think/
Just stick to your roots and let yourself grow to be the beautiful flower everyone likes to see/
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 2:11 PM UTC
Blondes illuminate
The dizzy world of men,
Confident and forthright
And simply, oozing acumen.
So sensually brazen
In a silly sort of way
Yet intuitively capable
Of leading all of them astray.
Blondes are irresistible
When they catch the errant eyes,
When their pearly, sky blue peepers
Irradiate and mesmerize.
When they catch him glancing
At a nicely rounded ***
When rosebud lip's apouting
Leave him breathless, limp and numb.
Blondes move in a manner
Which defies all things right,
It's a sweet undulation
Which turns day, straight into night.
It's suggestion incarnate
And quite breathlessly so.
Causing pulses to race
And his expectations to grow.
Blondes think in straight lines
Periferals are lost,
And woe betide myopics
Who underestimate at their cost.
Golden locks breed pushiness
The will to have her way,
And the man who calls a challenge
Won't survive another day.
Blondes are soft and fluffy
Dimpled cheeks and curve of thigh,
And are specialists in the art
Of come hither to the guy.
But just beneath the garnish
Is a mind that calculates
And a passion for success
And a taste for wealth that rates.
Marshalg
@theBach
Mangere Bridge
19 January 2010
Jan 18, 2010
Jan 18, 2010 at 10:30 PM UTC
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
Through Love’s decree, with coy invite
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
How soon ye forget your sins laid bare
The Sangrail truth, the Heavenly light
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
With comely looks, a swaggering air
The greatest of all earthly knights
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
How easy to shun this dolorous affair
If ye honed instead your spiritual might
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
With glory from lands far and near
Ye took her heart and forthright
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
Le Morte Darthur, the kingdom’s despair
Was sealed upon the doleful night
Lancelot ye golden knight fair
Enthralled the fey Queen Guinevere
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 5:54 PM UTC
There are the two choices. Wicked, wheel-men curving towards that which I wear in the evening when I paint on my black suit. The pitter-patter of organic matter, the Metropolis ground fresh. You tell me raspberry, I tell you I am not impressed. And then from the inimical lips, those bards from distance, sand spots and hordes of watering holes I place fresh Republicans on- and they were stealing the magazines.
Jury on.
Four devils they figure some, four devils. A anthelmintic potion to square away the worms. The pink worm, who takes long-distance telephone calls on your roommates only moments before the red worm, his head shriveled and his limbs crying from ****** she the blue curly worm; she is what we've been looking out and everything about this evening has slipped in the pattern we expected. Red light in fact,
They used the concatenations of frog legs(this was the big deal since My Mother loved the chelura of some tropical varieties of frogs and funny-legged), banjax the first one before the weather catches the summary being the news. Going as far as the the ecstasy of officials leaving the scene. The species catching its last names of life- genus and family alike racing towards safety.
And so I build in the fly zone. I haggle for President, and make sacred the realms of figures; denaturalized are the entanglements of humans, even whatever the mephitic and bellicose shadows shend and fordo their greatest powers.
I lull and lust, my pugnacious frazil, just like my recalcitrant logomachy that I ****** and slide angrily and profusely with m and everything I try to do. Just so long as you can see me usufruct and lobby forthright the message.
Mine. Hate. Anxiety.
Apr 26, 2014
Apr 26, 2014 at 5:06 AM UTC
It's up to me to build the future
With committment in my heart
Being honest with my neighbors
Is the point where I must start
A life must always aim for truth
No hypocrisy prevail
With no blemish in my make up
If I aim for less I fail
Integrity to one another
Puts a deeper trust in place
To uphold that awesome value
Is to lift the human race
I must always stand on honor
And be forthright to the bone
Always strive to be less selfish
Where no evil turns me wrong
There will be a better future
On that loftier plateau
God will bless me for the wisdom
If I choose that course to grow
When I truly ply those basics
There's a difference I can make
I must be a good example.....
Our third planet is at stake
Nov 29, 2010
Nov 29, 2010 at 6:19 AM UTC
My butte shall pry wood today
That she's barely enchanted by egress and
Will grant a peaceful way.
As veracity comes so nigh in her ancients
That now convenes with her in paradise
But her love is banally tragic
Round haunts she's claimed forthright
Yet she is newly aplomb in nature
And her love is a dement today
That cast a circle upon the great day.
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
Regular training tonight, that's right,
nothing new, no fright i cite.
So we will start at last light, to ignite and incite,
your skills to manage conflict and fight.
But also your health and your might,
to improve, increase and help forthright.
So, it's cold alright, alright, but despite this blight,
come training tonight, tonight; Alright?
Sijo Robert Z
Jun 20, 2015
Jun 20, 2015 at 12:22 AM UTC
blunt: adjective
1.
(of a knife, pencil, etc.) having a worn-down edge or point; not sharp.
having a flat or rounded end.
2.
(of a person or remark) uncompromisingly forthright.
----------------------
Today, my mom called me blunt.
And I have to admit that it's true
My thoughts and words are blunt and can hit you like a rock
But,
I realized I am also blunt.
I was once quick and sharp,
Ready to take on the world and fight
Fight like hell
Yet now, I can't
My mind isn't as strong- willed as it used to be
My body isn't as tough as it used to be
They're tired of fighting
I'm tired of fighting
Years of seeing horror and death,
You become used to it
Years of fighting,
You get too battered to stand up once more and fight.
I've become blunt and unbelievably tired.
Maybe.
I should...
Just....
Rest.........
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 1:03 AM UTC
Aubrey was confronted by her mom in the kitchen as she was making her lunch for school the next day. "Two sandwiches?" her mom questioned. "What's up with that, Aubrey? Since when do you eat more than one sandwich?" Actually Aubrey ate well. It was always a healthy lunch for her, perhaps a sandwich with some lettuce and tomato on it, or something cooked and leftover. She rarely indulged in sweet snacks, like her brother and sister did, never going without a couple pieces of fruit in her bag.
Audrey was a freshman in high school, and she was a forthright girl. There was no need to hide anything, so she replied nonchalantly, "It's not for me. It is for Wade Hodak. He doesn't have a sandwich in his lunch".
With her hands on her hips, Audrey's mom smelled something fishy. Was Wade taking advantage of her? She replied, "And why not? Since when is it up to you to look after him?"
"Mom!" Aubrey protested. "He is lucky his mom even gets any child support from his dad! Her paycheck doesn't come til the end of the week. Sometimes, he eats okay, but sometimes they just don't have the money! You know how it is with bills and stuff! It is usually just a bag of chips and whatever else he can find"
Aubrey's mom only vaguely knew of Wade Hodak. What little she knew of his mother, his mom seemed on the up-and-up. She remembered that the woman had to pull her daughter out of dance class because she couldn't afford it, the same class her younger daughter was in.
Aubrey's mom smiled and gave her a kiss and a hug, "Peanut butter and jelly?" Well, don't lay it on too thin.", she advised. Aubrey smiled big, a sweet smile with those braces on her teeth, and she was becoming a beautiful, young woman, both inside and out.
"That's what I was hoping you would say", Aubrey said and added, gratefully. "Thanks mom". Peanut butter and jelly it was.
Mar 16, 2017
Mar 16, 2017 at 8:28 PM UTC
I woke from sleep and looked outside today
to see that spring has sprung from infancy,
grass still wearing some snow like a toupee
and squirrels that are all but finicky.
I try to process all this imagery,
but my emotions are over my head,
so I sit in bed and smile wistfully.
I could be forthright with what should be said
and risk that it is misinterpreted,
or I could keep it in and let it go
and watch the opportunity lie dead.
Each spring a rose must bloom to be full grown
and blossom for everybody to see,
it's time I show the world who I can be.
Mar 29, 2014
Mar 29, 2014 at 8:11 PM UTC
Forthright in my chosen stance
Deliberate in the steps I dance,
I seek to make my time fulfil
Attainment, while I wish no ill,
To others who would tread my path,
(though this may cause some friends to laugh),
“Uniquely” is the phrase I use
To walk the walk of life I choose.
So different from the milling herd
To make some other choice….absurd!
Forthright is my chosen stance
Therein, I dance the dance…. I dance.
Marshalg
“Foxglove” Taranaki NZ.
16 November 2013
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 5:22 PM UTC
a morning conversation
brought for those
of agnostic or atheist
doubting persuasion..
an exploration of
stone tablet verses
so to experience
some secular
everyday difference..
objections were tabled
citing limitations
much is left out..
that negative tone
we all know so well..
those shalt-nots
seem to prevail
in eight of the ten..
modern science
quite lately has
offered assistance..
producing a map
researching the brain..
two sides observed
left analytical with
edges restricting
joined by right
expansive and present
just out of sight..
left and right
interfacing
pulsating
might we say dancing..?
then to the tablets
with map in hand
left still speaks forthright..
but then a surprise
right is right there
in front of our eyes..
look once again
first in the listing
and once more
see number four..
now we rely on our
newfound map
remembering the dance
those leftward shalt-nots
might others be named..?
each one is dancing
with a partner
one clearly not seen...
Sep 15, 2012
Sep 15, 2012 at 11:29 PM UTC
First, there was the aura...
Her face bathed in radiant light
Her smile dazzling and sincere
Those brown eyes so warm and bright
With her optimistic manner
She swept me up in every way
There was no one else in the world for me
When we first met that winter day
I found the love of my life to be
Forthright, honest and kind
With her charming personality
And her brilliant, incisive mind
She was the center of my universe
Standing by me in times of need
Encouraging and resilient
Her strength a comfort to me
I treasured our moments together
And reflected on our special life
She was my devoted soul mate
...My loving, caring wife
Nov 2, 2015
Nov 2, 2015 at 1:56 PM UTC
There are those with strongly held views
Who can be extremely forthright
When it comes to certain issues,
Believing they alone are right.
To shout and roar is not my style
Though that may come across as meek,
My quiet nature does beguile
For the last thing I am is weak.
Rather than force my opinion
Which alas many seem to do
I prefer at first to listen
To other peoples points of view.
By doing so I learn the facts
While showing others some respect.
Then can respond and not react;
Have a more positive effect.
It shows great insecurity
Or a lack of self confidence,
This seeming inability
To deal with valid arguments.
It is totally arrogant,
Makes absolutely no sense.
It is completely ignorant;
The height of low intelligence.
Nov 19, 2015
Nov 19, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC
We’ve accomplished grace
In the eternal august night
To unchain a soul that is contrite
Her soft touch gave men a pleasurable fright
She made me endless dry nights
With a twist of the forthright sunrise.
I’m wondering
I’m wandering
In your vast spacious eyes
I’ll find exile in your fragrant dream
I’ll watch your promises steam
In the waning night
I felt the lunging freedom by the touch of your hand
To the glimmering dusk
We’ve failed to alternate
To the passing bliss
We reasserted
To your musky perfume
Angels tried to elaborate
Frozen words of wonder you maimed
A love hitherto acclaimed
Wintertime is upon us
Memorabilia
Worn dour faces
Grazed by memories
Wintertime is upon us
Lenient breaths
Defying the freezing weather
Like white cotton bursting into the air
Numbed fingertips
And cold lips
Winter was the season of you heart
Winter became the season of my life
Now loneliness is my last supper
The ice for my heart will scupper
I’m alone amidst the feral waves of sobbing
And my heart is drunk with its salt
The crescendo will exalt
Now I must repent
For the placid lament
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 5:49 PM UTC
which came first,
the chicken or the egg?
a century old question
with no forthright answer
the chicken,
whose regal presence
defines
the world is his abyss
the egg
in meek stature
remains a gift
to its ceasing world
the chicken stands proud
a surefire bet
the world-
its audience
the egg
afraid of itself
the world-
its personality court
all the world is a stage
every saying- a game
you know how the story goes,
the chicken never gains
(b.d.s.)
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 4:45 PM UTC
If I were to do it all again I'd tell my mother that I was sorry
I'd tell my brother that I love him
And I'd tell my best friend that
Maybe the skirt was a little too short for brunch with the parents
I'd tell my sister that I wish I had an ounce of her integrity
I'd thank my coach for believing in me
I'd kiss my teacher on both cheeks
For not leaving me in the hallway crying
I'd thank her for being my only friend for almost an entire year
I'd thank her for carrying me on her shoulders for so long
But most of all I'd thank her for letting go at the right moment
If I were to do it all again
I'd be more honest
Not blunt.
Because blunt is uncompromisingly forthright
And I, for one, give a ****
If I were to do it all again
I'd understand that in order to get to "success"
I'd have to climb the thousand feet tall ladder called "fear"
If I were to do it all again
I'd jump out of the plane on two
Because people hold on to the edges at three
If I were to do it all again...
Man I'd be at the top of that ladder
Jun 1, 2017
Jun 1, 2017 at 12:14 AM UTC
When people are people
It's the strangest thing to see
Because people are rarely
Who they pretend to be
Friends soon become your enemy
Smiles don their faces wide
They will profess to be walking
Fornent to God's side
The trickery and fakery
The beguiled full of charm
The only thing they want to do
Is cause you painful harm
The sweetness and the light they shine
Predatory as seen
A flick of a knife in moonlight
Quickly turns vulturine
If they seem too good to be true
It's no wonder, I say
Time will present that truth forthright
In a startling display
They garner an overdue curse
A soul ache deathless slay
So I'll take dogs over people
True friends in every way
Apr 9, 2017
Apr 9, 2017 at 5:22 AM UTC
I am your product,
But not your likeness.
I borrowed from you,
You borrowed me.
There is an evenness to our bargain
As long as it stops now.
You laid the cards and instilled my empathy.
To never say no because I couldn't, you needed me.
To listen to your explanations of family,
But you stopped protecting me.
Always saying it wasn't enough.
That you worked hard,
That you worked long,
That I had no excuses,
Because It's true, I didn't.
I had facts of my reality;
Fact of otherness,
Fact of alone.
Of ostracism,
Of wondering if a crowd would bring me companionship.
Of thinking a man was the only way to happiness,
Because you seemed to think so.
Of cursing your talk of family when you left to find your missing pieces in another's bed.
You needing me to be strong because we were all we had;
Shutting my mouth,
Pressing words back into feelings.
That you used me just like they claimed you'd done to them.
Baring their children, not caring for their say, not asking for more.
But you wanted more from me
You told me often and over.
Leaving me to be the milk-less maid.
The child mother to her mothers children,
Your sweet little children;
The ones I fiercely love,
The ones I fear you'll let break,
Like you have broken me.
My sweet little sisters.
You were my first love,
My first true hate.
The woman who bore me,
The woman who cast me out.
The wisdom in my head,
And the fool before my eyes.
My mother, the bringer, the borrower.
The one person I thought would never betray my trust;
The deserter in my time of need.
You may have borrowed my childhood;
Forever unreturned.
You may have taught me kindness in your selfishness,
You may have been my hero,
I thought you were one...
Someone to aspire to be...
But it's so simple and straight who you are now,
Now that you aren't seen through the rosy cast of my child love.
I play my hand, laying them down
Forthright and coming.
To let you know that I am no longer yours,
No longer yours to borrow.
I am my own,
You can no longer claim me.
Apr 2, 2013
Apr 2, 2013 at 3:01 AM UTC
Seldom have I seen such strength, such purposefulness shown
And I have witnessed many who have made their message known,
Immovable this woman stands in seas of raging tide
Where friend and foe, as challengers, she’s deftly swept aside.
Resolute she stands atop white cliffs of blazing chalk
To glare across the Channel where her predecessors stalked
In league with Winston Churchill with pugnacious jawline set
When he thrashed the fiend in Jackboots and field grey appuletes.
In league with Margaret Thatcher with that glint of grey in eyes
To the accolades of Gorbachev who recognised the prize.
In league with Boadecia the ghost of power past
Who rallied this great nation to fight on to the last.
Snapping at her ankles the dogs of turmoil writhe
And comrades of another time amass to criticise,
Labourites howl murderously to all who would take heed
While the rabble rousing Europeans joust to intercede.
Swirling round her skirts they mass now screaming their abuse
At her articulated message of a pathway less obtuse.
If Tony Blair had the ***** it’s to her side he’d dance
As would Jeremy Corbett but of that there’s little chance,
Her Majesty stands forthright, as do all her heirs
Including Will and Harry who are cheering from the stairs.
Dianna’s there in spirit plus the Kiwis from the pub
And the rough crowd from the chippie all dolled up with a scrub.
She needs ALL of you behind her in her struggle for the best,
Independence for Great Britain is ascendancy’s great quest.
The very heart of what It means to dwell within these shores
The very heart of what it means to be Brittish to the core.
England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales combining for the task
Of a guarantee of future from the quagmire of the past.
We SHALL stand behind Teresa May and make our voices heard
As we scream aloud the anthem to impart our final word….
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITTANIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER…
SHALL BE SLAVES!
Boom, boom, boom
RULE BRITANNIA,
BRITANNIA RULE THE WAVES
BRITAIN NEVER, NEVER EVER….
SHALL BE SLAVES!
M.
18 December 2018
Dec 17, 2018
Dec 17, 2018 at 6:33 PM UTC
Ants in formation on a sidewalk,
carrying shreds in their maws,
and releasing it for their brethren to appreciate,
in the cramped tunnels beyond sun's light,
where it is consumed forthright,
unquestioningly and rapidly,
a fervor denying taste or thought,
only frantic static coming from the queen,
to usher in more dirt and leaves,
replacing those yesterday,
dry and forgotten.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 9:00 PM UTC
"It's an attack--an attack on our country,"
The president said. "It's a disgrace."
It's still amazing how he can say
The things he does and keep a straight face.
The Mueller probe's an attack on our country?
An attack on all we stand for? Say what?
Maybe if Trump had been honest and forthright
He wouldn't find himself in a rut.
What DO we stand for? Rule of law,
Search warrants, magistrates…
Where no one's above the law, not even
The president of the United States.
The president's idols--Putin, Duterte,
And Erdoğan--would never permit
Investigations into their own acts.
To strongmen it would NOT be legit.
To Trump a legal pursuit to find
Answers is a ruthless attack.
Yet Russia assaults our democratic
System, and Putin's a crackerjack!
Poor Trump just doesn't get it.
Whenever he talks, he more or less
Rubs salt in his very own wounds
And finds himself in a bigger mess.
-by Bob B (4-11-18)
Apr 11, 2018
Apr 11, 2018 at 7:33 PM UTC
World wide.
War brewing.
Freaking out.
Freaking evil.
The ******** that burnt.
May they be burned in the forthright land of ******* hell.
A bubbling *** of discontent.
Chechen hell.
Iraq and Syria.
Cultivation a culture of fear.
Taken by the hand.
Led straight into war.
(c)Livvi
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 4:54 AM UTC
Sanguine and butterscotch
Wildflower and sanctuary
Beyond the iris there is a tempest
Subtle, but, in no way ordinary
Starshot and malignant
Orphan and kaleidoscope
Nimbus clouds blanket hazel skies
Fingernails catch on slippery slopes
Luminous and forthright
Emerald and venerable
Tiptoeing through the shards of life
She is shadow, but, never invisible
May 5, 2016
May 5, 2016 at 8:47 AM UTC