"implement" poems
Yes, sir, I want you to spank me
With that hand I know so well
It is more than just five fingers
It’s the reason I rebel
Yes, sir, I want you to clank me
In bonds of silver and gold
Chained, I’m a precious gift to you
Unwrapping me never gets old
Yes, sir, I want you to yank me
Down on the floor to my knees
My gaze lowers at your command
I’m eager to do as you please
Yes, sir, I want you to flank me
Punish me from every side
I know I’ve been a naughty girl
Needing discipline you’ll provide
Yes, sir, I want you to crank me
Up to writhing ecstasy
Don’t stop ‘til I ******* beg you
Your tough love is what sets me free
Yes, sir, I want you to thank me
For being your precious pet
Even though I disobey you
It’s clear you love to see me sweat
Yes, sir, I want you to spank me
With the implement of your choice
Make it hurt to make me happy
In your dominance I rejoice
Aug 12, 2015
Aug 12, 2015 at 12:32 AM UTC
Better Philippines.. Go Federalism Now!
R oad to a new Republic of the Philippines
o nward to the era of Federalism government
d ays are gone when power is handled by the few
r ich pen become richer and the poor even poorer
i t's time our country will be run by a man with a vision
g overn the Philippines according to the will of the majority
on the basis of basic rights and privileges as local citizens.
R eal leader is someone who stands for the people
o n the realization of their basic needs and ambitions
and who leads by example and can implement the laws.
D uterte is the man of the hour
u nder Federalism form of government
t he local government can obtain bigger budget
e xtracted from its own income and tax collection
r ealistic projects of the LGU can be materialized
t hen better and faster urbanization will implemented
end the corruption and criminality, support the President!
Oct 9, 2018
Oct 9, 2018 at 12:33 AM UTC
She, my cutter,
my body, her cutting,
with tongue and finger nail,
any handy human implement,
she sculpts me to
her eye's configuring delight
she, grabs my wrist,
and my face
by her hands embraced,
unblemished once
now becomes scarred tissued,
no guise, no lies, no bearded mask,
no disguise -
all forsaken
hidden hardened skin,
speckled red/white translucent,
she kisses with adoration her
heart designed
objet d'art
*no better blade than she,
with every cut,
transformed, she becomes
my devotee,
I, her escapee,
I am her, she is me,
inseparable, my every command,
she obeys*
for our love cuts both ways
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
I desire to go deeper
into your intimate-space.
I yearn to travel into
all your nooks and crannies.
I want to decipher
a new language,
implement fresh code
onto your mainframe.
My aim is to please
beyond all recognition.
Can't you tell Sweet Darling?
I'm in love with modern technology
& its swell electric-buzz!
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
Jim, Clara, Lizzie, and Tim
are sitting comfortably
around a work meeting table
drinking delicious coffee and
eating delectable sandwiches
which their manager provided for free;
these employees love their manager.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
area engaged in a ‘Quality-Circle’:
A group of employees
who meet regularly
to consider ways of improving
their workplace.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
conceptualise themself
as not slaves but cooperators
with their manager
to improve
the functioning of their workplace
for the benefit of the employees,
and the benefit
of the shareholders, customers, suppliers
management and
their whole society.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
are exercising joyful creativity
to identify problems
and discover solutions
which they will diligently implement
to improve their workplace,
to increase their joy and happiness
in their workplace:
by increasing ease of their work,
by increasing efficiency of their work,
by improving quality of their work,
by increasing productivity,
by increasing customer satisfaction,
by improving environmental impacts,
by increasing profits.
Jim, Clara, Lizzie and Tim
realise that a continuously-improving
well-functioning workplace
provides them secure and enjoyable employment;
so, participating in the joyful creativity
of a quality-circle
striving to continuously improve their workplace
makes them feel
joyful and happy.
Jul 24, 2019
Jul 24, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
1084
At Half past Three, a single Bird
Unto a silent Sky
Propounded but a single term
Of cautious melody.
At Half past Four, Experiment
Had subjugated test
And lo, Her silver Principle
Supplanted all the rest.
At Half past Seven, Element
Nor Implement, be seen—
And Place was where the Presence was
Circumference between.
3k
when you are new, consequences seem minuscule
authority is a foreign concept, maybe too close to home
a repercussion to fear
the day your light enters the world, rules border your actions like the lines on a freeway
who’s to say that rebellion is a bad thing
expression in its greatest form.
acting out to show discontent.
but the underlying causes are beautiful.
with experience, things become so real.
one mistake and you can be sent away for a lifetime.
acting out is no longer to show off
development at different times, yet 18 years to decide
mens rea vs actus reus.
shouldn’t it be the intentions that decide?
authority to shut down rebellion, self expression if you will
own up to the reaction of our action.
its a bit distorted.
in other words over the top
how many rules there are.
but whats the point in breaking the rules if there were no rules to be broken.
we find ourselves in this given situation.
the animosity for authority; yet the lust towards rebellion.
if there was no authority to implement the proper etiquette to fit the social norm, would there even be a point to committing heinous acts that are considered “illegal”.
living to find a meaning to match with the experiences.
Feb 21, 2015
Feb 21, 2015 at 12:59 PM UTC
Your mother rolled out pastry
with the rolling pin
her hands pushing the implement
across the board
and you watched
her floured skin work their skill
backward and forward
under the palms of her hands
the thinning pastry
spreading out to an inch of width
until her hands stopped
and she flipped it over
and spread more flour
upon the board
with a flick and smoothing touch
of her hand
once that task was done
she lifted it to the dish
and eased it around inside
and around the edges
with her fingers and thumbs
working their way
in a circular motion
around the dish
then cut with a knife
the over hanging
unneeded pastry
and put it aside
like an umbilical cord
once the baby’s born
as her hands placed in
the stewed apple filling
you said
can I have the left over bits?
pointing to the wasted pastry
left aside
sure you can
she said
moving on with her skill
as you picked up the pastry
and walked away
noticing the sadness
in her watery eyes
and strained voice and words
following you across the room
as you ate the pastry
between your fingers
like a bird of prey.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 3:46 PM UTC
"It's good, but maybe you should write shorter," I was told.
Granted this was told to me by a man that believes the word artistic
to be closely related to the word autistic, but I can only assume that riding any
unfamiliar wavelength is terribly confusing, if not immeasurably difficult.
Knowing that you can confide in yourself, whether or not I'm misinterpreting
individual delegation for conscience, I believe altruism to be fundamental to
a person before growth can occur. Unless of course you're writing short poems.
And if you're curious enough to implement apathy, sarcasm is a fine starting point.
They say that if you want to master something you need to perform daily.
Accompany this with the old adage, "Love what you do," and you can imagine the potential.
Mastering an activity with love is transcendent, calm although sometimes piquant.
Passion and pleasure aren't identical, but imagine the potential.
I don't bleed ink.
It has to be an attempt at benevolence, to say that.
Extreme literary pretensions you must have to bleed out.
Writing should have a pulse. It. Should. Make. Each. Word. Count.
Yet, when this man told me that my words are good, but I should keep it shorter,
knowing not if I could or would, I became curious as to why he worried more about
length and not the content and story as a whole. Then I had to rationalize this to myself, and thought: It would be easier to convey words with images, like a film or animation.
But I don't bleed ink,
and I guess I don't bleed popcorn.
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 11:16 AM UTC
One of his sick molars
was jarring, crying foul,
the root canal treatment
she did, the first, on him
made it quiet,it touched
exactly the love nerve.
Love sprouted,got rooted between
the curvy dentist and him
in exactly five sittings;
the soil was fertile.
The romantic dentist seized
his pining heart too quick,
the causes and effects of
that pain, she whispered, was similar
to what she felt , when he whimpered
leaning his head on her full *******
No reason he had, not to surmise
she didn't do everything she should,
to make his ailing tooth perfect.
Coochiecooing to her, he even
called her" the tooth fairy's baby girl"
overwhelmed she gifted him a smooch.
Each sitting fallowed
soliciting that rare,tender dental care,
on her cozy swiveling chair,
brought them closer to bouts of necking
and things more adventurous,
(may the medical ethics, pardon the pair!)
Vigorous narratives she breathlessly
reeled off, on the state of his each tooth
brought her more closer to the chair
than what professionally was expected,
her perfumed warm presence
brought aches, not necessarily dental.
A stinging pain on a root repaired
at a time his 'root canal sweet heart' was away
compels him to explore for a new chair.
The horror of horrors, it was revealed
here, a piece of broken iron implement
his sweet heart, has left within the root;
a cover up as she couldn't retrieve it
with her skills inept,
it did aggravate, caused the pain!
Isn't the betrayal of the kids,
in the name of tooth fairy,non existent
far less heinous, than a cheating like this!
could any one blame him for this,
to escape a bad tooth future, he did
the best one could; the comely tooth fairy
that found the fault and mended it
shows him his place in the
swivel chair of her heart these days!
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 9:02 AM UTC
You can say what you say.
But all they perceive is a modern fairytale.
Yes, all they want are the actions of our fairytale.
You can say what you say.
Yes, you can say what you say.
All they want are the actions of our fairytale.
Let us implement our so-called modern fairytale.
Indeed, you can say what you say.
Software developer, your clients want what they want.
I can imagine that program, together celebrating in harmony.
Computer programmer, your clients what want they want.
I can imagine that app, together celebrating in harmony.
Everybody singing, it wasn't a modern fairytale.
Thank you, Lord, (yes) it wasn't a modern fairytale.
Written By: The Senior Date: 12/04/2020
Nov 10, 2021
Nov 10, 2021 at 3:11 AM UTC
...Here a man stands accused--the pellucid jury
of his peers come to themselves in their life's arms
through him.
He wails upright...a shadow continent wedging
The Flood.
Timekeeping horseflies besmirch his chest cavity
with due kisses...par for par movements consume
time till the singular advocacy of he withstood.
The imperturbable essence captured itself, as so
at the height of its powers there's interplay.
Ease culled from tribulation...countenance slackened
by degrees...overwhelmed by awareness.
Kingdom come Kingdom--shoring space of grace
that is freedom.
As if Everything centering of itself, fawning over itself...
polar opposites in conjugal bliss.
Here a man stands accused...of being--fit for steely
juxtaposition...the murderous implement of will, or
salvation.
Envision him post-Flood, waist-deep, the living Face
of the Deep...look upon him!
Timekeeping horseflies besmirching his chest cavity
with due kisses...par for par movements consuming
time till the Singular advocacy of thee...look upon
him!
An encounter of pitless ramification: fear or love...be
it the last man upon the earth.
Look upon him--O jury of his peers boasting billions...
pellucid unto one another...look...The Hour is radiant!
Won't thee come to thine life's arms through him?
For he is Everyman.
Feb 6, 2015
Feb 6, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
There's a fella you've all heard of
From a sandy foreign place
He was sent down by his daddy
From somewhere in outer space
He died and he came back again
Then he hit the dusty road
Now he's there for me with a helping hand
When I've almost dropped my load
Jesus is my barman
I munch his salty nuts
He fills me up with lovin'
Till it rumbles in my guts
He's my one almighty Hoover
He ***** off all my sin
To all my tricky crevices
He bravely enters in
He eases through my tightest spots
He's always got my back
He lubricates my passage
Down the narrow winding track
He tinkers with my plumbing
Removes my stubborn stains
Then with his holy implement
He firmly rods my drains
Jesus is my bell-boy
In his elevatin' craft
He pushes on my button
Then he takes me up the shaft
He's my fire fighting saviour
When flames begin to roar
He grabs his mighty helmet
And he breaks in my back door
He's captain of my ******
Commander of my boats
Don't worry if you're sinkin' fast
Cos Jesus always floats
If you're cold and need to light a fire
The lord is right and good
There's one thing he's remembered for
It’s always having wood
Jesus is my dentist
He drills me with his bit
He fills up all my cavities
Then I gargle and I spit
And one day when it’s legal
We'll end our secret fling
With his ring on my finger
And his finger in my ring
Feb 8, 2013
Feb 8, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
Perched motionless
Gleaming among the catkins of the oak—
with toy accordions for leaves
And a heron—watching
Neck pleated
Head resting in feathery shoulders
Sharp-eyed, beak brutal
Watching—
where below
that beer can, squashed and stabbed
...And did he see her?
by the naked window
Did he see the lace that bloomed?
No—fell
like spring’s full flakes
to coat the hills in white
for an hour at best in its cool damp?
Did he see?
the way her hair lapped
the spine and blade of back?
Bent the night—so darkly
red from black
as she pulled her blouse above her head?
And did he want!
the flesh of warm yellow lamplight
the smeared press of spit and sweat!
YES!
Squash and **** that beer can!
Sculpt your loneliness!
and stick it through
with any hard implement handy!
Grind your teeth on dumb regret
and **** yourself!
You know you don’t—love her?
Be jealous of her sheets, her springs, her sunsets!
on their ways to frost and moonlit sleep
turning forsythia of day
to fuzzy falls of glitter-gray
spilling down thick hips
of the river’s dungeon banks
so steeped in heat
to the dizzy roar that follows....
Be jealous of the River!
who always goes to her
when you will not...
And if—you really loved
I mean—loved!
who you saw...
you would have seen
the tired tears—roll than linger—Years
forsake their bones
defy the need for sleep
Defy everything!
Except—
the moon’s cloister...an owl’s call
And if you had loved her
you would have made the distance!
crossed the lawn!
skipped stairs!
Fought the Night of Time!
taken her porch like a champion!
Heart pounding near—the door down!
And if you had really loved
who you had seen
I MEAN—LOVED HER!
You would have—
You would have done—
ANYTHING!
Sep 9, 2016
Sep 9, 2016 at 9:28 PM UTC
Federalism: it's just another political concept
It's the reason why so many law students have wept
Through this a group of members are bound together by a covenant
It makes it easier for the smooth functioning of the government
A Unitary State: it's a state governed by a single power
It enables one man to stand above all like a tower
The ultimate power rests with the central government
Thus making rules easier to implement
So which is the better one; which one is more "right"?
Are we all foolish enough to turn this debate into a fight?
Some countries choose Federalism, some opt for the Unitary State
But in the end the functioning, and not the type of government will predict their fate...
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 4:54 AM UTC
NOBODYNOBODYNOBODYNOBODYNOBODY
NOBODYNOBODYNOBODYNOBODYNOBODYNOBODY
GLASS SPIDER PINK SPIDER GLASS PINK GLASS
Glass Spider Pink Spider
The water's all gone. Hurt
Who hurt who hurt who hurt who hurt
If this is [--] also then what's to
stop me from the other.
I am so out of control.
Why am I living?
Everybody's got somebody.
Shining Star, everybody's
covered in scabs!
Why is this making me break.
****
What makes me want to [--]
My lack of control
My anger- lack of control of anger
Depression
Lack of movement
Failure to impress or be loved
or make an impression or feel
something other than longing
LONGING unfulfillment
I don't feel fulfilled
I am a half-eaten fruit
I will now rot.
And attract the flies
Become the soil of the earth
Is that a sign?
Believe in nothing
NOBODY
See value
worth
WORTH IN ME
Time is crawling
My arm is stung by nail bees
It feels good
I feel unfulfilled
They do this to me
Who wants a crazy bit(scribbles)ch
H(scribbles)
Worth is irrelevant
Worthless
The work is not worth the
work is not worth worth
Worthless
Loveless
Rotting
You don't miss me you dumb ************
I know where the tools are
I saw them today
My arm is twitching
I want to stab this pen in an eye
TOO DIZZY
Maybe if I
stop breathing just for tonight
I'll stop thinking
perhaps
I'm too much of a
coward
too smart though not smart
enough for anyone to want me
I want to pass out
how do I make myself
pass out without making noise
Everything in the room
is an implement
This past I dont
want to revisit
although maybe I
was better then
less bitter less
upsettable less
worthless
Jan 2, 2010
Jan 2, 2010 at 9:25 AM UTC
(repost)
Perched motionless
Gleaming among the catkins of the oak—
with toy accordions for leaves
And a heron—watching
Neck pleated
Head resting in feathery shoulders
Sharp-eyed, beak brutal
Watching—
where below
that beer can, squashed and stabbed
...And did he see her?
by the naked window
Did he see the lace that bloomed?
No—fell
like spring’s full flakes
to coat the hills in white
for an hour at best in its cool damp?
Did he see?
the way her hair lapped
the spine and blade of back?
Bent the night—so darkly
red from black
as she pulled her blouse above her head?
And did he want!
the flesh of warm yellow lamplight
the smeared press of spit and sweat!
YES!
Squash and **** that beer can!
Sculpt your loneliness!
and stick it through
with any hard implement handy!
Grind your teeth on dumb regret
and **** yourself!
You know you don’t—love her?
Be jealous of her sheets, her springs, her sunsets!
on their ways to frost and moonlit sleep
turning forsythia of day
to fuzzy falls of glitter-gray
spilling down thick hips
of the river’s dungeon banks
so steeped in heat
to the dizzy roar that follows....
Be jealous of the River!
who always goes to her
when you will not...
And if—you really loved
I mean—loved!
who you saw...
you would have seen
the tired tears—roll than linger—Years
forsake their bones
defy the need for sleep
Defy everything!
Except—
the moon’s cloister...an owl’s call
And if you had loved her
you would have made the distance!
crossed the lawn!
skipped stairs!
Fought the Night of Time!
taken her porch like a champion!
Heart pounding near—the door down!
And if you had really loved
who you had seen
I MEAN—LOVED HER!
You would have—
You would have done—
ANYTHING!
Jun 28, 2017
Jun 28, 2017 at 11:06 AM UTC
In the beginning
there is a class
of creatures we call Gods
that much later
we realize are just mono-
instances of god.
From the tower
I babble tongues,
coded messages and ciphers
that you implement
in your daily rituals
and obsessive behaviors.
In R, it's something like,
christ <- god(moral compass)
In Ruby it could be
buddha = God.new
And perhaps a nihilist or we
would find happiness in
10000.times do
pushRock = buhdda.take(me)
end
It's all pidgin for me,
unstructured glimpses at a world
that's moving and changing
faster than my non-existent
grandson can comprehend.
It's all a network
of +1 and like'd
firing mix media,
reinforcing a nascent
thought stream,
back-propagating our legends
and fairy tales, Grimm
reminders of epic Odyssey |
5 Armies in film |
Warring States |
loping dog with a severed hand
in Akira black & white mouth
repossessing Spaghetti Westerns
back into our feudal *****
Fire, firing
into the Monsoon rain.
Always in the Hemingway
rain of symbols and Matrix
green code.
And in my cupped hand,
I catch glimmering fireflies,
instances of Gaiman's
American gods, Tricksters,
Coyotes, and my faithful
Dog smiling at me.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 2:12 PM UTC
You cannot dismiss this sudden, mysterious
rise in confidence as it sits in our people.
Now, it stands. It grips faith in a fist.
It forms for its performance a knotted wood staff,
and plays on until its death with an implement
mistaken for a weapon, when it bends to dance,
and only strikes the ground to rally.
You know for sure to show the world the inner peace
rather than permit the violence inside you.
And it's handsome.
Jun 5, 2018
Jun 5, 2018 at 10:18 PM UTC
395
Reverse cannot befall
That fine Prosperity
Whose Sources are interior—
As soon—Adversity
A Diamond—overtake
In far—Bolivian Ground—
Misfortune hath no implement
Could mar it—if it found—
1.9k
Every night before I rest my head
I strip myself down until I am bare;
What's mine is His
So with Him I share.
I lie myself down across the bed and prepare to implement my prayers so that we may be intimate.
He enters me, penetrating my entirety
He relies on me
I ride on His serenity
Until He releases all of the devil's ties incising me
He restrains my frame and forces me to refrain from dancing in the flame
Cast by my demons.
Like draining,
He empties me
Of all residual sin remaining within
He comes
Into the heart of my soul
And we console each other.
Whispers,
Heavy breathing,
Until Amen
We continue on conceiving
Until I am whole again.
He smothers my heaving chest
With His Love
His Love
He covers me, in the midst of
His love,
He puts me to rest.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 1:26 AM UTC
WHAT'S THE PERFECT MEANING OF LIFE?
✿ A question, that's is not answered by anyone till now, is burning in my mind for a long time that: WHAT IS THE TRUE MEANING OF LIFE?
➯ First time, when I was in my childhood, I thought that *LIFE IS A PLAYING WITH PARENTS.
➯ When I was student, I thought life is not only playing but LIFE IS FULL OF STUDYING AND LEARNING.
➯ As the time passed, my thinking changed. I realized that life is not only for learning but LIFE IS A PRACTICAL GROUND TO IMPLEMENT WHAT I HAVE LEARNT.
➯ When I stepped on the practical life, I faced a problem. I found that I've learnt many things; but I could not apply everything together in my life. So, from where should I start the journey of my life, it was a great problem then. I felt LIFE IS FULL OF PROBLEMS.
➯ I, after it, thought about earning money to support my life. Working long time of the day put me away from mass-contact, even from my parents. So I thought, LIFE IS A COMPETITIVE GAME TO SURVIVE ONE'S OWN LIFE.
➯ I took it as a selfish definition of life. I, then, thought that I should be with my parents and stay connected with relatives and friends and enjoy life with everyone. Then I defined life as LIFE IS THE NAME OF SETTLING MYSELF WITH OTHERS.
➯ When I came across some boys and girls, I found then talking about love. I was curious to know what does love mean. I heard that only true love can make our life successful. So I thought, LIFE IS A HOUSE OF LOVE.
➯ After that, my curious mind flew to religious matters. I tried to think what is the meaningful role of religion in human life. I came to know that only religious belief and spirituality and faith in God can show us the true way of life. I realized that LIFE IS AN EXAMINATION HALL TO PROVE HOW MUCH I BELIEVE IN GOD.
➯ Then, political activities attracted me. I found many great famous fighters and social workers to sacrifice their lives on political stage. At this, I understood that LIFE IS BATTLE FIELD WHERE THE MAIN TARGET IS TO WIN OVER OTHERS.
➯ But when I opened my eyes to look at the modern world, I found a new definition of life. That is LIFE IS A SHORT TIME TO ENJOY THE WORLD, SO EAT, DRINK AND BE MERRY.
➲ Oh my God ! Now I'm totally confused !
What is life!?!
Is it a playing!?!
Is it for learning!?!
Is life full of problems!?!
Is life only love!?!
Then life is a battle field!?!
Or, life is only for enjoy!?!
⊙CAN YOU ANSWER THE QUESTIONS?⊙
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 8:05 AM UTC
2AM
I am assaulted with emotion at the notion of closing my eyes
my drunken blackouts are the only peace I seem to find deprived of my liquid therapy I sink into my thoughts
ignoring atrocious reality brings no solace to a villain caught
3AM
paralysed within myself calling out from my empty shell
a stranger inhabits my skeleton but I'm yet to hear alarm bells
my identity's gone missing but all the poles are poster-less
suffocating on small talk I'm lost in exquisite sadness
4AM
do my eyes of infinite tragedy hold the same tone of desperation?
dead detached peepers resemble marbles glossy from sedation
privately frantic for acknowledgment of my internal death
fearful you see my demise but see no value in my breath
5AM
mother dearest placed me on the curb for a foreigners collection unworthy of a garage sale I squat amongst the household rejections
amidst disheveled furniture a crusty mop makes my acquaintance
I suppose the oppression of my despair made it less contagious
6AM
whoever claimed sunrises bring hope never tried stimulants
the ***** smeared sky bears as much nausea as I implement
such is the tacky masochistic cycle of damnation
give me my slice of death and pray I don't awaken
i
grieve
my
whiskey
as
i
grieve
my humanity
Oct 11, 2018
Oct 11, 2018 at 1:48 PM UTC
Them Begging for peace
But implement violence
Going nowhere fast
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 2:12 AM UTC