"grievous" poems
**No Justice, No Peace
If we can't get it from the Court
then we'll take it from the Streets
No Justice, No Peace
**** the Police
and what you believe!**
Whatever happened to Revolution
Being the American way?
When your voice remains unheard
For which you suffer every day,
Your life is constantly stepped on,
Your rights keep getting taken away,
And in spite of the lies they spin to protect your oppressors,
You still keep the rage at bay
Because you are not
Above the Law
and neither is anyone else.
So taking matters into your own hands
Isn't going to help.
You entrust the justice system
to do what it's supposed to
Even though you know it never has
and is probably never going to.
But if you haven't done anything wrong and the Law doesn't serve you,
and only seems to defend the people who've already hurt you,
then honestly I think it's insane and completely absurd to
not only expect the People not to react,
but to honor a curfew.
**** YOU**
Do you hear us yet?
**** YOU**
Oh, it's inappropriate?
You don't wanna talk about it?
You don't wanna think about it?
You don't wanna deal with it?
Well guess what?
Nobody ******* does, nobody ******* would, nobody ever ******* could.
But for the people who don't look like you -
Aryan Beauty Standards
Hair of Gold, Eyes of Blue
Fair-skinned, light-skinned
European skeleton,
It was never a choice they had.
Oppression doesn't pick you
Based on qualifications
Any more than Privilege does,
If you think this case
Is not about race
You better check your Privilege, cuz.
I love my home, America
But I hate what it's become
Land of the greedy, home of the afraid
Kingdom of the Loud and Dumb
Slut-shaming, victim-blaming, race-hating, race-baiting
Sensationalization of the worst crimes in the nation
Religious intolerance, homophobic misogyny, blatant racial discrimination
Can't get with it, can't hang
At least not in the lynch mob sense
I am blown the **** away
at the grievous absence of common sense.
So when they lit those flags on fire
in the center of the town
*I understand, and I can't blame them
the flag is truer up in flames now*
And if they so decide to burn
the city to the ground,
*I understand, and I can't blame them
I would wanna burn it down*
**No Justice, No Peace
If we can't get it from the Court
then we'll take it from the Streets
No Justice, No Peace
**** the Police
and **** your Beliefs!**
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 5:57 PM UTC
man (?)
the tomatoes?
patty m.,
a grievous error thy commissioned
tomatoes are the quintessential feminine fruit
red juicy, round, curvy, sweet
with a flavor at once the same,
yet never again always different, diffident,
asized, and blonde or red, never contrived
without it,
would pizza be pizza?
without it,
would **** ***** love,
be merely a good salad
or a poem
ever be the same?
“me love tomatoes”
cookie monster
Apr 19, 2018
Apr 19, 2018 at 11:33 AM UTC
in grievous deity my cat
walks around
he walks around and around
with
electric tail and
push-button
eyes
he is
alive and
plush and
final as a plum tree
neither of us understands
cathedrals or
the man outside
watering his
lawn
if I were all the man
that he is
cat--
if there were men
like this
the world could
begin
he leaps up on the couch
and walks through
porticoes of my
admiration.
21.4k
XXVII. TO ARTEMIS (22 lines)
(ll. 1-20) I sing of Artemis, whose shafts are of gold, who
cheers on the hounds, the pure maiden, shooter of stags, who
delights in archery, own sister to Apollo with the golden sword.
Over the shadowy hills and windy peaks she draws her golden bow,
rejoicing in the chase, and sends out grievous shafts. The tops
of the high mountains tremble and the tangled wood echoes
awesomely with the outcry of beasts: earthquakes and the sea also
where fishes shoal. But the goddess with a bold heart turns
every way destroying the race of wild beasts: and when she is
satisfied and has cheered her heart, this huntress who delights
in arrows slackens her supple bow and goes to the great house of
her dear brother Phoebus Apollo, to the rich land of Delphi,
there to order the lovely dance of the Muses and Graces. There
she hangs up her curved bow and her arrows, and heads and leads
the dances, gracefully arrayed, while all they utter their
heavenly voice, singing how neat-ankled Leto bare children
supreme among the immortals both in thought and in deed.
(ll. 21-22) Hail to you, children of Zeus and rich-haired Leto!
And now I will remember you and another song also.
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Dark is the night, by the light of day
Harsh are the words, which some people say
Grievous the malaise, which we often feel
Deep are the wounds, of a hurt that won’t heal
Lasting the wrong, to whom it is done
Fleeting the moment, when praises are won
Tragic the loss, of someone we love
Empty the feeling, when they are thought of
WIZDUMBs BY JA 619
May 20, 2016
May 20, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
I wish to disambiguate
to explicate; expanciate:
I do not begrudge polyamory,
and whatever Love entails
to any particular person,
for I once was polyamorous;
I understand some of the ways
in which polyamory can work.
Usually when single,
or otherwise in an open relationship.
I also do not begrudge sluttiness;
everyone needs some
and some can't resist.
Besides, it is noble
to work such charity.
Who am I,
who once sought such charity,
to demonize it?
I,
who have lusts
and desires?
I do,
however,
take grievous offense
to One in a relationship
who tells their partner
they're soulmates
and who,
instead of agreeing to end
the monogamous relationship,
goes and sleeps around
and cheats on their "soulmate",
moreover if over and over.
It's hard to cope with such deep hurt,
and I wish to convey my apologies
for my rash hybridized expressions
of Anger, Frustration and Hubris.
Perhaps it perturbs me so
simply because it reminds me
of who I once could be and was.
Perhaps it irks me so
because I'm envious.
Again;
Polyamory is not a Sin;
but before you just go **** someone
at least be single or in an open relationship;
it isn't only you
who is affected
by your choices,
and I know
that's hard to see
when you are so young.
Don't hold back
who you really are,
but please;
don't cheat others
in the process.
Not only is Karma a *****
but so can Retribution be;
you never know
what One
scorned
is
capable of;
the next time
you cheat someone
they may not fall back
on mere words;
A few more years
in this World
may teach you
that such Anarchy
doth go both ways,
my dear;
Vigilante Justice knows few bounds:
Don't take too many chances
when it comes to who you **** nor
when it comes to who you **** over.
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 7:39 PM UTC
As this world runs in cruelty and in greed,
Our eyes see the world perfect-blindly.
Those who have power stay unfair and unjust, indeed -
The stated laws were implemented tightly.
Power over humanity exists in today’s world.
We as powerless have no right to scrutinize, but to concur.
Their pledges remain twirled -
The hurdle stays in abundance with no cure.
It is in us where the grievous suffering is in store;
And we have none to succor them all.
The hunger and incurable malady strike humankind in any form.
It led to increased mortality, decreased economy, but who to call?
Whoever has power, our safety cannot be guaranteed –
They are the ones that makes our life at risk.
They stand as an impediment for our nation not to succeed.
Their fall is soon our victory – this is not in the pace-brisk.
It’s been a year, still no sign of good deed.
Half of the world is asleep –
Some shock for awakening their soul is what they need.
We have lost enough; at least we have ourselves to keep.
The string of our patience reached its limitation.
Rich people hoard too much and now most of us left deprived.
Who’ll lift marginalized Filipinos in our nation? –
Who'll give us fair allocation that is incumbent for us to survive?
Tedious journey might it seem.
Our souls’ little voices are still unheard.
What life this could be without our soaring dream? –
We shall move our mountains even gratification is deferred.
Now, the time is ours to stand as one with clenched hands,
It’s time for us to deplore and abhor their thoughts.
It’s time to listen in our souls' little voices to be heard at once.
And it’s time for us to break the darkness by our flaming oath.
- Aubergine Cher Bautista
Mar 25, 2021
Mar 25, 2021 at 11:59 PM UTC
Pleasure, oh pleasure sitting in silence
Among the lime trees
The silence of delight
A perfect pardon
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
No hurry, no hurry
To go anywhere
While strangers offer smiles
Such perfect smiles
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Magic a specialisation
A practical specialisation
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
People of all kinds
Come streaming by
Pilot people
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
People passing with such power
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
All power is violence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Pleasure, oh pleasure
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
No power is needed here
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Only truth and justice
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
No grievous ache remains a mystery
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
That purple mass made clear
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
An aroma here
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
An exuding stupefying aroma
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
That startles the sparrows
Identical sparrows
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Other silence is unequal
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
A quivering tenor of silence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Gilded silence that flashes
Hazily across the vision
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Frenzied silence, irresistible silence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Silence split into fragments
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Fragments that remain intact
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Silence that vanishes from sight
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
A severed silence
That remains infused
Golden and deceptive
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Like split up bandits
On the run
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Who race up two
Different boulevards
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
A day return silence
Always nervous and irritable
Sitting her in silence
Among the lime trees
A softening handsome
Lilac colored silence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Regal in its resonance
Of romance
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
A silence of scarlet kerchiefs
Wears a tail coat
Has black raven hair
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Trying to catch spiders
Rats, little devils and dogs
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Day breaks
Inexorably in silence
Over the poet
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
The unstoppable
Silence of silence
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Such silence once started
Is unstoppable
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Such as the strange silence
One finds in snow
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Silence in a deserted shout
Sitting here in silence
Among the lime trees
Oh such silent noise
Such silent noise
Silent noise, silent
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 3:46 PM UTC
Here early looking through the news:
the mountain plane crash,
the arabic voodoo,
the red and blue men saluting arguments.
What is missing that is new?
New spring leaves on flowering scented pear tree,
new age spot on sagging skin.
What is truly old?
Things grievous falling from sky;
alarming cries about civilization's ruin;
plunging sharp items into people
to squirt blood in boyish delight;
roots of spry pear tree
summoning life into sky.
Apr 23, 2015
Apr 23, 2015 at 9:50 AM UTC
THE LAST LOVE LETTER OF TCHAIKOVSKY*
My angel, life of my life
Fate would never allow me to meet thee
Only in thy letters to me
Do I feel the touch of love’s ecstasy.
Would but that upon thy sweet face
I would just once behold
All my sixth symphonies I would gladly exchange
In love’s name and in its wondrous beauty untold.
Here with all my rapturous kisses
I send thee the music of ‘Love’s Sorrow’
Every note swims in the sea of my restless heart
None would such grievous pain of mine ever know.
Let history judge
All that is between thee and me
Even the deluge that drowns the whole world
Would never obliterate every melody I dedicate to thee.
• Tchaikovsky’s benefactress was Madame Von Meck (Nadezhda) who exchanged 260 love- letters (1876—1887)with him and endowed him with a regular income on the understanding that they should never meet.
Her late husband was a millionaire whose fortune was derived from his railway business.
Finally, she broke up the relationship leaving the composer in complete devastation.
This is one of the most poignant love-stories of all time.
Nov 11, 2015
Nov 11, 2015 at 4:04 AM UTC
I am a woman. I can be all by myself
I am equal to a ‘man’
I don’t need anybody to look after me
I need no man to hold my hand.
I am a woman. I am tender, not fragile
I can indulge in all life has to offer and intensely feel all the emotions
I have strength tenfold. I can fight for my freedoms and rights
Nothing can restrict me from fulfilling my dreams and aspirations.
I am a woman. I bleed red
Grievous cramps drag me closer to death, and still, I put up a smile
It is pride, no shame. I bleed to create the world.
Even if I am tagged ‘impure’, I am not going to smother behind the veil
I am a woman. I deserve to be treated with respect
I will never settle for less, in equality I believe
I am neither born to satisfy a man’s hunger nor to be a victim of dominance
Instead, I am born to be a woman of my choice.
Aug 27, 2020
Aug 27, 2020 at 11:14 AM UTC
Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind
I turned to share the transport—O! with whom
But Thee, deep buried in the silent tomb,
That spot which no vicissitude can find?
Love, faithful love, recall’d thee to my mind—
But how could I forget thee? Through what power,
Even for the least division of an hour,
Have I been so beguiled as to be blind
To my most grievous loss?—That thought’s return
Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,
Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,
Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;
That neither present time, nor years unborn
Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.
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I
I greeted you, my inevitable day
In this shaky firmness of my hands;
Assuring me of my weakness; the languidity of my serene constitution.
The sky smeared with fright,undeed, and look, hark to how the sun closed the night!
This was but unpalatable dew, misty in its impatient greyness
Avidity for genuine sorrow and late confessions
The calm heart then wronged, and soon the war touched the light!
II
Beware of love, o silly hearts!
Loving thoughts, are indeed averse to relenting;
albeit they are always leading to smirks and destitution.
Release thy grains from yon grievous chain!
Spark thy wings, heave and bend!
Wear thy glee, ere any of the gruesome tears remain!
Shield thy mask with greater abhorrence!
III
O notions, fruit my doom and feed my sight!
From womanly misery I yet ought to emerge
and all its surly sleeves I ought to blight!
IV
O peace, fetch for me my untaught breath in vain
Keep me steady, ditch me not in the rain!
Tend me more, yet not my cheerful friend-
in pleasures whom thrives, in virtues was whom foolish!
Praising plaited hairs, swept amidst folded skirts.
Gruesome lies they carry, the finest they conspire to marry;
what a horrid, unalterable, evil concoction!
Yet pureness is the only that deserves awe;
virgins are a symbol of unrequited love, but tenderest affection!
However lonesome, hither and thither I shall bear this pain
Until my stern heart melted to love again.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:38 AM UTC
Dead breath came from aching fingers dancing to break barriers in my throat.
Sweetly I choked comfortably on my sadist pleasure...
Each sting was warm and still too kind.
I’d do it again and I’ll gladly pay that fine.
Hair fell swiftly like leaves in autumn...
I was a fool to know this was my rock bottom.
And still I exhale punishment for my grievous crimes
For someone who will never be satisfied.
Jan 24, 2021
Jan 24, 2021 at 2:30 PM UTC
The one created for sabotage
Adored by few
Abhorred by numerous numbers
He treads an eternal sorrow
Which tortures his blighted soul
Scheming against ingenious blueprints
His destiny's been read
By gypsy cherubs
He's learned the path
Trodden by none
His predestination
Answering to this heavy burden
His Father has brought a rebellious notion
No other celestial entity has knowledge
Except for him and his apostles
Agreeing to God's earthly will
To be forever cast into a shadow
Agreeing through pure love
For his Father
And sent to tortuous furnace
Unbeknowst to mortals of seraphic Lucifer's
startling sacrifice
God's grievous banishment of his son
For he only aspired
To become like his Father
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
Verse, a breeze ’mid blossoms straying,
Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee—
Both were mine! Life went a-maying
With Nature, Hope, and Poesy,
When I was young!
When I was young?—Ah, woeful When!
Ah! for the change ‘twixt Now and Then!
This breathing house not built with hands,
This body that does me grievous wrong,
O’er aery cliffs and glittering sands
How lightly then it flashed along,
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore,
On winding lakes and rivers wide,
That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide!
Nought cared this body for wind or weather
When Youth and I lived in’t together.
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like;
Friendship is a sheltering tree;
O the joys! that came down shower-like,
Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
Ere I was old!
Ere I was old? Ah woeful Ere,
Which tells me, Youth’s no longer here!
O Youth! for years so many and sweet
’Tis known that Thou and I were one,
I’ll think it but a fond conceit—
It cannot be that Thou art gone!
Thy vesper-bell hath not yet tolled—
And thou wert aye a masker bold!
What strange disguise hast now put on,
To make believe that thou art gone?
I see these locks in silvery slips,
This drooping gait, this altered size:
But Springtide blossoms on thy lips,
And tears take sunshine from thine eyes:
Life is but Thought: so think I will
That Youth and I are housemates still.
Dew-drops are the gems of morning,
But the tears of mournful eve!
Where no hope is, life’s a warning
That only serves to make us grieve
When we are old:
That only serves to make us grieve
With oft and tedious taking-leave,
Like some poor nigh-related guest
That may not rudely be dismist;
Yet hath out-stayed his welcome while,
And tells the jest without the smile.
2.9k
ECLIPSE ©
Willowmena Wren©, 9/1/14
Don't let them sway you - you must stay true
Don't let them consume you - you must not be confused
Don't let them make a case for something you know is not real
Don't let them come between us or our fates you will seal
We are but stars in a dark, blue night
Our brightness blinds the wicked one's sight
We have love between us - as it's been through the years
We have warmth and sunshine to calm all our fears
Envious people regret nothing they do
They squish and they squall about others' as they muse
Grievous people stirring up angry words
They twist and they howl, scaring even the birds
No one can alter our fates as they do
But we can eclipse them - yes, me and you!
Nov 4, 2014
Nov 4, 2014 at 10:15 PM UTC
A horrific thunderbolt
hit me right at my chest.
Oh! what an assault.
A hundred carafes of poison
or
the thousand rounds of bullets
would have hurt less
than the pain it caused
when
you abandoned me.
But,
I tried to deal with it.
‘Move on’,
I urged my inner me.
‘I am not a loser.
Quitting is never an option’,
I tried to pacify the anguish.
It did not aid.
The palpable twinge
troubled more;
aww! my delicate heart.
To sweep away the woe,
I pact with the *****
Alas!
Every sip of the nasty tipple
ousted heavy flood
from my shuddering eyes.
I could tell you , love,
that was quite a sight.
Still the heart pounding,
the excruciating truth,
still unsolved.
I banged my liquor’s glass
in sheer dismay.
Sane enough to halt
the bleeding from the wound,
I searched the bandage.
Sadly, the wound was in heart.
- Bhaskar Dhakal
Aug 21, 2015
Aug 21, 2015 at 6:37 AM UTC
it is done differently - more is not necessary - more of this -
is too much;
the kissing is an exploration - to a polar destination of
virtual whiteness -
to discover more than this. the kissing is not an end in and of itself - but a fjord unexplored leading to what? yes there are many different kinds of kisses - adaptations to a changing terrain - but the face, the face, the face (not just the lips),
the head entire -
is the first battle in a world war where the
opponents strengths and weakness are
literally uncovered and shape the nature of the war of the worlds
yet to come.
more than kissing, it is a speech and an interrogation;
an ********** revelation
of fine lines and small scars, a writing of a history, a history that existed unbeknownst to the explorer and thus interesting and dangerous - a history composed in a different time and place and almost in a vacuum - for kissing is impactful - outlines of footsteps on never before trodden lanes - but who prepared these paths in advance of my arrival, and was my arrival forecast or just imagined?
first time kissing oft portrayed as excited glee - but this is a grievous error - a wild display of wasted resources - it is not to meant to be pesky single shots of damp I was here where next? it is a drawing, nay, a sculpting of map to be reproduced in limited quantity for only the map rooms of the greatest museums.
each individual kiss is more than an act, but a marker
connecting the previous
to the future next -
exactly a map drawn by an explorer - meant to be shared with others who love history, discovery and women creatures.
be wary of unmarked crevasses and pools where
no one has measured the depth -
novice sailors without proper charts upon unfamiliar faces -
too oft drown or are somehow sail as lost forever.
but the notion of being the first, even if you are not the first,
is so intoxicating
for the brainstorming it provokes - the envisioning of
more than kissing but of unlocking
a new nature, creating a creation born in the intersection of two waters - where fresh waters joint the brine of the ocean -
and there are untold different kinds of waters and no two terrains though similar - are ever exactly the same.
here does my entry in my log - my journal - end - though the notation of than
is comparative and therefore unending.
Jun 22, 2019
Jun 22, 2019 at 9:46 AM UTC
My heart is so heavy over losing you
I have not been able to make sense of this
I just know that this is all wrong
My existence craves you like no other, and to think I might have lost you
Is grievous
I am completely and utterly lost
I am open bare as each day passes and with you I have lose myself whole
I am filled with insurmountable grief
Over you…over us
I clutch to my very bed you stray so far away from
I have woken up dismayed
plagued by homesickness in my very home
I am turning on myself over the loss of you
My heart is no longer my own
Appalled and vengeful over my soul
Every beat of my heart belongs to you as if you were the very essence that gives life to my being
My heart is with you
In your name, blazing full of you
And I too, my love
Oct 2, 2023
Oct 2, 2023 at 10:33 PM UTC
Ever again to breathe pure happiness,
So happy that we gave away our toy?
We smiled at nothings, needing no caress?
Have we not laughed too often since with Joy?
Have we not stolen too strange and sorrowful wrongs
For her hands' pardoning? The sun may cleanse,
And time, and starlight. Life will sing great songs,
And gods will show us pleasures more than men's.
Yet heaven looks smaller than the old doll's-home,
No nestling place is left in bluebell bloom,
And the wide arms of trees have lost their scope.
The former happiness is unreturning:
Boys' griefs are not so grievous as our yearning,
Boys have no sadness sadder than our hope.
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Grievous grace, has due yesterday’s blue
Autonomous avarice enigma entity’s hue
Identity crisis guidon guile’s due
Mystic symbiosis’ existential true
Apostrophe sabbat transcendental kitsch
Consortium liaison’s libido’s glitch
Translucent opulence’s lambent’s a *****
Metaphysical mystique is black as pitch
Terrestrial equestrian tellurian's terrene
Adamant tenacity’s obtusely obscene
Obstinate loquacity spiritually serene
Maniacally meticulous dexterity’s preen
Lucid cogent fecund’s maieutic
Incarnate’s manumissional eidetic
Spatiotemporal telemetry’s fanatic
Logistical tactician’s primal ecstatic
Chicanery dynamism’s opulent fealty
Intrinsic innate retrospective cruelty
Indigenous endemic inherent frailty
Corrupt costume counselor subtlety
Gambit alluvium aloof impunity
Immunity is epicurian absurdity
Who are we to us credulity
Nimbus nimiety nihilism’s congruity
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 8:39 AM UTC
While referring to me
She previously used it to mean a
Very Important Person.
But now I've realized
My mistakes & worth in her life as a
Very Idiotic Person.
I used to care so much for her
I was protective for her future
My directions were my misgivings
This is what she thought of my advice.
She grew sick of my advice
She used to not follow it and suffer
She wasted eons stuck in the bog
All that after eating Punjabi junk food
And guess what, she prefers suffering health problems
And wasting her precious time in pain
She ditched me instead of abandoning junk food.
But to tell my young girlfriend
To follow a discipline in her life,
Is it such a grievous crime by me?
Whatever you might say,
She ditched me for it,
Like she did 2 years back.
She will think, *'Atul is a true lover,
He'll wait for me to repent,'*
I am neither that ever forgiving God,
Nor I'm an idiot to again forgive,
I have moved on bearing at helm the self-respect I managed to preserve,
But she's surely not the one for me,
And I no longer care who's mine,
I'll live with that apparently egotistic persona.
Because I have kissed death once,
I realize what my standing in life means,
To me, I am the most important person now,
I'll live my life on my own terms,
Alone if I must.
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 11:37 PM UTC