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"haranguing" poems
Mongst the salacious ferns of Artemis requested in the land of the handsome labyris women wealing and weaving Vulcans shrewd hearts of jasper and chalcendony, governess Hulda cleaves Muspellsheims yew bones fletching mandrakes philtre whetting hie Cupids perfuse herb of grace intercessorial unto volcanic pious virtues haranguing loves cataract dashing herewith demotic enditements distempered of ludic ordination; forging a year and a day halest cledonomancies volley of truths bequeathing privity of Heavens prismatic trajectory. ELEETE J MUIR.
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Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 9:25 PM UTC
Rainbow Darts.
heatwave hotter than Hades heating every inch of our terrain heckling with it's scorching sear haranguing us from dusk to dawn hell fires have been unleashed holy cow we're in need of a bit of relief
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Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC
Heatwave...Pleiades
The gaze feels suited under reflection, catfish know better than the bullfrogs haranguing it alone - Midnight's rupture the star Edith blazed her Gospel voice across the Phoenix Star, those podagra Svengalis mill perpetually serenading this their dollar sign, due graciousness lasts as long as the peyote nostrums parfum de la maison
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Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 7:37 PM UTC
Yellow Moon
"who taught you to look so good?!" says a thought [shot] in the dark. --- this to no woman in particular but to all womankind i suppose. outside there is a dog haranguing me, saying WOOF (that is, "where d'you get those old clothes?") i tell him the sally ann but good luck getting in there, dog . . . he takes off, complaining --- but i pay no attention to the bellyaching of an old mutt... "nay," says i there's not a ****** thing of any real importance in this universal dustbin/save the dharma. yea i could live in a woodsy cabin deep down a valley-ay shoutin' "HOOO-EE!!" out the open door to anyone who comes by and be thought a crazy young ('ventually old) ****** off his rocker in the trees. --- and why not!! chop logs/cook bread 'n brew potsa tea 'n otherwise lead a silent but meaningful old existence out there with weekend friends/girls/wine/talk. --- tell all that to a bookish pal who scoffs: *"some dharmy of yours, boy. all that work. where are the café sittings & sunny youthy days of readin' sutras on a lawn somewhere?"* "bah," i says. "bah..."
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Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 3:10 PM UTC
thoughts from out the window
. Can you feel the rhythm rise, but never, ever leaving the ground? The bridges sway with every song that they play, I can barely wait for the sound. A sonic exhilaration crosses dreamstates of predecision. While wild wizards are haranguing the warlocks, the devil makes a quick incision. In the hearts that are subdivided, to those full of James Brown soul- there's an evil wind that's suddenly pinned your face to the totem pole. Echoes from dragons seducing a sigh, there's an ache to leave in their blood. Some- when they run, run far, far away, while others are still stuck in the mud. Can you feel the rhythm rise, but never, ever leaving the ground? The bridges sway with every song that they play, I can barely wait for the sound. .
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Jan 22, 2010
Jan 22, 2010 at 10:58 AM UTC
~Can You Feel the Rhythm Rise? ♥
Her hand slips softly, into mine, Her eyes glimmer, with reminiscence. and this moment is ephemerally divine divinity, drowning in Dissonance. The sky is turning grey, like my love. Her incandescent beauty, as immortal.. ..as the fire that burns within my haranguing heart, fueling perennial passion, that shall slowly fade, like the gut wrenching ire, that obscures my gaze. the trees, reveling in the glory of spring, in full bloom, pushing away the recurring gloom.. the setting sun and its sedating sight, fills my soul with seraphic light.. As the seconds turn to hours, and I shower my love with a thousand flowers, the moon maketh me feel, her luminous presence, and I drown myself, in her ethereal essence.
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Jun 17, 2012
Jun 17, 2012 at 8:55 AM UTC
Her
automobile assault again by churchlot crasher. departed, damage done even forgoing forgiveness. grumbling gomez glowers, haranguing impossible immunity. jeez! just...jerk! klutzy lot leaver! mangled mobility machine needs overnight observation. poignant payment, pending quixotic recompensing ravager. supposing satisfactory salvage. truck under vehicular warranty.
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Jun 13, 2015
Jun 13, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
vehicular poeticide
I, whose sleep gloats searching for answers, steering for a dream I take my place amongst men in parks, in alleys, in trains, and the Sun unmasks itself like timeworn skies of linoleum. trees their bulwarks realize such oneness and birds start to rain where time wounds all feelings and lovers innumerably lay flat on their bellies. mountains ***** as tall as truths, and the sleuth more than my body’s engine turns less than a seraphim – dizzy with the night’s utmost haranguing. I, whose soul returns not with garlands but with chains as my phantoms go with them swimmingly across the blue Earth and a man brindled, tussled against space that so distant the star becomes so near and all sleep lose names of dreams.
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Dec 18, 2015
Dec 18, 2015 at 12:45 AM UTC
Blue Earth, Brindled Man
~for my naturalist, Victoria~ *the poems all end up in midfield, yellow carded, the game a tied up, 0 - 0 unsatisfying affair, all the shots way wide of goal as I search for the perfect phrase to capture my *twiddling and twaddling, fussing and haranguing, harrumphing and bemoaning, my very own Brexit, postponed, the hard answers terrifying, the soft ones, humbug and ******* incapable of lifting a mighty pen, or a fully worn down pencil scrap, seen better days, but now, all leaden ashes, all fall down, my natural pointer taps only gibberish in my plain manila actuality folder, the cut off dates, ignored, so they cut me off too for good measure, plenty good bills to due in there, plenty good ‘orrible poems for company the pile of to do’s forming a party, social, democratic, and anti-septic or skeptic or semitic, perhaps all three, as they are two jowls or two cheeks, too many to the windy all this shilly shallying, or is it dilly dallying, is quite simply to say that my rooted U.K. naturalist a Sherlockian moors, traversing specialist cuts to the shortest quick, by jove, there it is, succinctly red beeping, in my garden, awaiting a good boiling I too exhausted from all the “scrabbling with the day to day” she so easily summarizes, though my poetic ego demands an Ameddican textual emendation* “hard scrabbling with the day to day” or just an all encompassing globalism “ditto” ah, Victoria
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Jul 4, 2019
Jul 4, 2019 at 7:04 AM UTC
“scrabbling with the day to day”
His bedroom door a tombstone for the room that lay inside and hidden there away from sight,light years of light sat in the dust. The wardrobe old and oaken,spoke of hanging, haranguing coats of cowhide skin and trousers that crept up like weeds within. No party times for Simon Lime a product of a bygone age,faded pencil on a faded page, he stumbled and deep down in the rage that simmered far below, he would know, who sent the clocks that dismantled him, that wound him up, that bound him in the past? Held tight and fast,though tired at last he settled down upon the old stuffed chair,where the antimacassar kept the oil, slick on his thinning hair, and here where shadows shuffled on the widow of his window sill he sits there still and, thinking thoughts like these,praying in some long forgotten diocese where bishops wander ill at ease among the congregation. Nations stand and fall among the shuffling shadows up on Simon's wall he doesn't care no more, he carves the tombstone for another door and life goes on.
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Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 3:45 AM UTC
The crying of Simon
i have no need for change. it's meaningless to me (in most senses). so i plop $6.24 (exact change) on the counter. he throws pillows filled with guilt at me. and i hurriedly leave as he's shouting threads of vitriol that could trap me there forever, with my bags of guilt (what else do i have?) commuting home is easier now. we stand on the backs of alligators. brave men fit them for harnesses. but it's all good here. until a beautiful women steps out of her house. nothing good can come from it. my alligator lets me off at my house. i only have to blow on the front door at a certain angle, my shelter has been charred so many times; touching it might make it collapse. my house is the only one with no electricity or running water; noone knows why. but i've learned to improvise. a man on the street once told me, "it's better to be adaptable than to have no need to adapt." i asked him "why?" but he was gone. i unload my haul of guilt next to my collection of desires; seems fitting. no. i'll have them pad the totem of regrets; it's much more delicate. and maybe if i make them more comfortable, they'll stop haranguing me every night. every evening the floor gives out, and worse, nothing to hold onto. but while i'm falling, a fish hook  always finds it's way to my chest and sinks into my heart. and i just dangle there for an hour or more ("where do i keep these things?"). the floor comes back (as it always does), frozen solid. i don't know where it goes but it is not to the core of the Earth. as per ritual, i'll give it painful fit of body heat; i know where i'm sleeping tonight. i don't get any visitors, but if i did, i'd like them to be comfortable.
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Dec 23, 2014
Dec 23, 2014 at 3:45 AM UTC
desiderium
i have no need for change. it's meaningless to me (in most senses). so i plop $6.24 (exact change) on the counter. he throws pillows filled with guilt at me. and i hurriedly leave as he's shouting threads of vitriol that could trap me there forever, with my bags of guilt (what else do i have?) commuting home is easier now. we stand on the backs of alligators. brave men fit them for harnesses. but it's all good here. until a beautiful women steps out of her house. nothing good can come from it. my alligator lets me off at my house. i only have to blow on the front door at a certain angle, my shelter has been charred so many times; touching it might make it collapse. my house is the only one with no electricity or running water; noone knows why. but i've learned to improvise. a man on the street once told me, "it's better to be adaptable than to have no need to adapt." i asked him "why?" but he was gone. i unload my haul of guilt next to my collection of desires; seems fitting. no. i'll have them pad the totem of regrets; it's much more delicate. and maybe if i make them more comfortable, they'll stop haranguing me every night. every evening the floor gives out, and worse, nothing to hold onto. but while i'm falling, a fish hook  always finds it's way to my chest and sinks into my heart. and i just dangle there for an hour or more ("where do i keep these things?"). the floor comes back (as it always does), frozen solid. i don't know where it goes but it is not to the core of the Earth. as per ritual, i'll give it painful fit of body heat; i know where i'm sleeping tonight. i don't get any visitors, but if i did, i'd like them to be comfortable.
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1 “Pursue not with accolade in mind. The hand will remain blank, if not black – blacker at that notion of conflagration. There is a fine line between infinite and obsequiousness. It is all disappearance, isn’t it?” she humbly quipped sotto voce. 2 Whenever I look at a dog, I lose my metaphors. Say, when he gnaws a wall for no reason. Or when I watch the indefatigable motion of his tail. Is it all redundancy? 3 I’d like to think that I sold myself a long time ago, mistaken as hurling a stone into the deep setting of repugnant waters, my body assuming fragrance, or a fall of feather – half-mast at that, in conscious space. 4 I want myself bought back from the dark, oblivion, the constancy of salt in the sea. 5 I fear that when the Sun cleaves through hills, light would be but two bodies never finding each other. Depth is wedded to loss, cobwebbed into abeyance. 6 Who do you see when you see a shadow? A movement of identity? Or the identity of movement? And whose land does it continually mark with longing? Or an insistence of feeling? A dearth of space is made aware of its vastness. We must all hide in the night so as to minimize its feat. 7 Speak boldly about memory. Its incandescence, its liminal end. Its forgotten thresholds. How it felt at first light to grasp but not sense out ownership. Be silenced over entrails. I will sojourn into the infinite quiet of your throbbing presence and fade out, the same way you lilted away like a blather of a child in the heat of a haranguing mother, or the predictable yet sudden erasures of sea. 8 I have not, the discovery of landscapes. My next door neighbor’s home is being renovated. I have a fascination for unfinished structures. 9 I look at my image in the mirror: A scruple of metal-reticence. A mangle of scaffolds. I am a home that cannot be assuaged. 10 Disappearance.
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Apr 25, 2016
Apr 25, 2016 at 10:13 AM UTC
Transfiguracion
1 “Pursue not with accolade in mind. The hand will remain blank, if not black – blacker at that notion of conflagration. There is a fine line between infinite and obsequiousness. It is all disappearance, isn’t it?” she humbly quipped sotto voce. 2 Whenever I look at a dog, I lose my metaphors. Say, when he gnaws a wall for no reason. Or when I watch the indefatigable motion of his tail. Is it all redundancy? 3 I’d like to think that I sold myself a long time ago, mistaken as hurling a stone into the deep setting of repugnant waters, my body assuming fragrance, or a fall of feather – half-mast at that, in conscious space. 4 I want myself bought back from the dark, oblivion, the constancy of salt in the sea. 5 I fear that when the Sun cleaves through hills, light would be but two bodies never finding each other. Depth is wedded to loss, cobwebbed into abeyance. 6 Who do you see when you see a shadow? A movement of identity? Or the identity of movement? And whose land does it continually mark with longing? Or an insistence of feeling? A dearth of space is made aware of its vastness. We must all hide in the night so as to minimize its feat. 7 Speak boldly about memory. Its incandescence, its liminal end. Its forgotten thresholds. How it felt at first light to grasp but not sense out ownership. Be silenced over entrails. I will sojourn into the infinite quiet of your throbbing presence and fade out, the same way you lilted away like a blather of a child in the heat of a haranguing mother, or the predictable yet sudden erasures of sea. 8 I have not, the discovery of landscapes. My next door neighbor’s home is being renovated. I have a fascination for unfinished structures. 9 I look at my image in the mirror: A scruple of metal-reticence. A mangle of scaffolds. I am a home that cannot be assuaged. 10 Disappearance.
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that moves from its mooring: it was from interstice to intersection somewhere in Poblacion. I was once there, looking for loose change beside the market. Quickly I began as though an impression was made past the kiosks dense with the matrimony of the tabloids and print: its dearth on the streets of Plaridel. Mud caked at the grey backs of gutters, a spectacle of leaves on the ground like deft hands place them there for empires. the first that I touched: wind, last: your face, wind was it only that you and I were never off-tangent, always, minus the blindfold, seeking endlessly as though things refuse to be found, pulsing in the heat of hiding grace. and goes back to its source: something too splayed for science, only too easy with a child’s fancy – chauffeurs playing checkers, crossing each other out within conjunctions – much you or I, our weights syndetic and our weightlessness, imagined – as if phrasings loose like waters from the spigot left open: mother arrives, haranguing. like how it was simple for the wind to remind us fit to this meet constantly receiving your incidence, and my place stilled to familiar topographies. a window is left open, with its hands in the terminal of silence holding light like obdurate stone; the surrender registers with grievous art, you curved like a bent question mark, or a swollen oblation borrowing its sheen from the **** of bobbing beacons – the candid Manilascape you kept on fevering for like an open sentence only to find its birth.
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Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 11:11 PM UTC
The wind is something
that moves from its mooring: it was from interstice to intersection somewhere in Poblacion. I was once there, looking for loose change beside the market. Quickly I began as though an impression was made past the kiosks dense with the matrimony of the tabloids and print: its dearth on the streets of Plaridel. Mud caked at the grey backs of gutters, a spectacle of leaves on the ground like deft hands place them there for empires. the first that I touched: wind, last: your face, wind was it only that you and I were never off-tangent, always, minus the blindfold, seeking endlessly as though things refuse to be found, pulsing in the heat of hiding grace. and goes back to its source: something too splayed for science, only too easy with a child’s fancy – chauffeurs playing checkers, crossing each other out within conjunctions – much you or I, our weights syndetic and our weightlessness, imagined – as if phrasings loose like waters from the spigot left open: mother arrives, haranguing. like how it was simple for the wind to remind us fit to this meet constantly receiving your incidence, and my place stilled to familiar topographies. a window is left open, with its hands in the terminal of silence holding light like obdurate stone; the surrender registers with grievous art, you curved like a bent question mark, or a swollen oblation borrowing its sheen from the **** of bobbing beacons – the candid Manilascape you kept on fevering for like an open sentence only to find its birth.
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i  arrogantly   imagine   rain (splayed on the pavement) as something   too short to ****** with, in plea, so as to say that genuflecting on a field of budding roses suddenly blooms wide-eyed skies so brazenly, an aperture that winks not abruptly to shed tear. somewhere along the lambaste, humidity takes form of a nauseating swathe of demise and immediately, in transit, comes back,   a cold, haranguing wind – something borrowed, something ephemeral, something that causes trouble to the frail gestures of a rose, or a child in consummate siesta, or simply the sudden intone of a band bursting midway   through the sullen thoroughfare –        colors seem to intensify, the world inflamed like a contusion, the wind like a gaff maneuvering the trees, and I, lost in somnolence, can only remember so much of the afternoons lost wandering about nothing when rain has happened and nothing existed before me    but the braille of seasons and the obsequious  shadow      swayed by nothing but light’s silent radio; much like heaven and I, here on Earth,                           looking out   in     the    rain;
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Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 1:15 AM UTC
Wanderings
ONE OF THOSE DAYS A tragic day, in the powerful place where the poet lives. A hopeless pen today. Said pen haranguing everything, sometimes. When the hat of passion fits. So all the world can visualise. That's what she wants you see. And she sits there with her head in hands. Suddenly out of nowhere she finds her mouth ***** She slides on that harmonica. A musical work of art. But,today she cannot play. (C) Livvi
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Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 6:39 AM UTC
ONE OF THOSE DAYS
The world closes in. It feels like the unwelcome hug Of a person you cannot trust, Whose physical presence Wanes and fades to invisibility But whose hug remains, Stifling, suffocating. They and others Stand around you, mocking, Narrowing the circle As they step towards you, Haranguing then jostling in unison, Leaving no route of escape, Tight in their cordon. Heaviness falls, A solid lid to seal the enclosure, Negating light and Squeezing out air Until you crouch and kneel, Curl like a ball And throw sideways glances. It seems never ending. It seals your confinement, It steals your will. The circle disperses And they leave you huddled. And you wait for silence Before unraveling. Copyright Marc Hawkins 2017
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Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 5:37 PM UTC
CONSTRICTORS