Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Julian Mar 2019
Tantalized by the fractious limerence of a vestigial habiliment of the old order, we conclude that hypertrophy leads to a limbo where random permutations alloyed by the rickety limits of concatenation subsume concepts that are equivocal but populate the imaginations of newfangled art forms that jostle the midwives of rumination to lead to unique pastures that are intuitively calibrated to correspond to definitive unitary events in conceptual space that sprawl unexpectedly towards the desultory but determinative conclusion of a meandering ludic sphere of rambunctious sentiments cobbled together to either rivet the captive audience or annoy the peevish criticaster when they dare to inseminate the canvassed and corrugated tract of intellectual territory created ad hoc to swelter the imagination with audacious ingenuity that is an inevitable byproduct of lexical hypertrophy. In this séance with the immaterial realm of concept rather than the predictable clockwork reductivism of a perceptual welter that is limited by the concretism circumscribed by spatiotemporal stricture we find that an extravagant twinge of even the smallest tocsin in the interstitial carousel of conscientious subroutines compounding recursively to pinprick the cossetted smolder of potentiality rather than extravagate into the vacancy of untenanted nullibiety can spawn a progeny of utilities and vehicles for dexterous abstraction that poach the exotic concepts we fathom by degrees of sapience malingering in lifeless bricolages of erratic abstraction in manners useful to transcend the repose of abeyance and heave awakening into the slumberous caverns of still-life to make them dynamically animated to capture ephemeral events that defy the demarcations of wistful indelicacy of the encumbered bulk of insufficient precision.

Today we embark on a quest to defile the anoegenetic recapitulation of canon that litters the dilapidated avenues of miserly contemplation that has a histeriological certainty and feeds the engines that enable novelty but ultimately remain rancid with the stench of the idiosyncratic shibboleths of synoptic alloyed impoverishment that leads to the vast wasteland of cremated entropy that is a stained foible of misappropriated context interpolated usefully as botched triage for daunting problems that require a nimble legerdemain of facile versatility that we easily adduce to conquer the present with the botched memorial of a defunct salience. Despite the travail of scholars to retreat from the frontier into the hypostatized hegemony of recycled credentialed information, we often are ensnared by the solemn attrition of decay as we traverse the conceptual underpinnings of all bedrock thought only to dangle precariously near the void of lapsed sentience because of transitory incontinence that is contiguous to the doldrums of crudity but nevertheless with mustered mettle we purport that the very self-serious awakening to our hobbling limitations is akin to a prosthetic enhancement of ratiocination capable of feats that stagger beneath the lowest level of subtext to elevate the highest superordinate categorization into heightened scrutiny that burgeons metacognitive limber. Marooned in the equipoise of specifiable enlightenment countermanded by the strictures of working memory we can orchestrate transverse pathways between the elemental quiddity of impetuous meaning and the dignified tropes of transitivity that bequeaths entire universes with feral progeny that modulate their ecosystems with both a taste of approximated symmetry and a cohesive enterprise for productivity that rests on the granular concordance of the highest plane to the indivisible parcels of atomic meaning that solder together to exist as intelligible if strained by the primordial frictions guaranteed by the brunt of motion incipient because of the metaphorical inertia created within insular universes to inform sprawling conurbations of mobilized thoughts designed to reckon with the breakneck pace of the corresponding reality to which they explicitly and precisely refer to.

We must singe surgically the filigrees that amount to the perceptible realities that transmute temperaments into the liturgy of routine conflated with the rigmarole of neural dragnets of reiterative quips in an elegant game of raillery with our supernal contumacy against the rigid authority of aleatory vagaries mandated by a dually arbitrary universe in a probabilistic terpsichorean dance with the depth of our dredge for subliminal acuity or the shallow bellicosity of common modes of glib contemplation characteristic of the basic nobility of improvisation. This basic interface with the world can either be mercurial or tranquil based on the interactionism of the enfeebled trudge of surface senses or blunt intuitions and the smoldering impact of the vestigial cloaks that deal gingerly with the poignant subtext evoked in the cauldron of immediacy rather than pondered with the portentous weight of imperative singularities of uniqueness derived from the plunge into the arcane citadel of microscopic introspection so refined that the ineffable drives we seek to fathom become amenable to the traipse of transcendental time that rarefies itself by defying the brunt of compartmentalized bureaucracies administered by the fulcrum of stereotypical notions of acquired gravitas imputed to mundane pedestrian quidnunc concerns that defile humanity rather than embolden the subaudition of gritty punctilios that show the supernal powers of the axiomatic divinity of sharpened sentience to reign with supremacy over the baser ignoble components of bletcherous nescience that leads to knee-**** platitudes that provoke folksy peevish divisions. We should rather orchestrate our activity by heeding the admonishment about the primogeniture of poignant sabotage buffered by the remonstration of innate tranquility and finding a whipsawed compromise of rationalization with true visceral encounters with the fulgurant quips of brisk emotions that grind industriously into amorphous retinues of the trenchant human imagination to either equip or hobble the leapfrogged interrogation of veracity and more consequently our notions of truth and fact.

When we see the hackneyed results of default ecological dynamics, we find ourselves aloof from purported transcendence because the whimpered bleats and cavils of the importunate masses result in a deafening din of cacophony because we strive throbbing with sprightliness towards the galloped chase of tantalization without the luxury of a terminus for satiation. Obviously a growth mindset is the galvanic ****** that spawns the imaginative swank of the pliable modulations of our perceived reality that, when protean, showcase the limitless verve of our primordial cacoethes for epigenetic evolution rather than the stolid and staid foreclosure of impervious sloth that memorializes the gluttony of speculation about fixed entities rather than imperative jostling urbanity that dignifies the brackish dance with dearth and the exuberant savory taste of momentary excess because it engages the animated pursuit of limerence rather than the exhumed corpse of wistful regret. Nature is a cyclical clockwork system of predatory instinct met with the clemency of the prosperous providence enacted by the travailing ingenuity of successive cumulative generativities that compounded unevenly and unpredictably to predicate a fundamental zeitgeist calculated to engorge the fattened resources of the resourceful and temper the etiolated dreams of the fringed acquiescence of a hulking prejudiced population of dutiful servants that balk at the diminutive prospects of a lopsided distribution of talent and means but slumber in irenic resolve created by the merciful hands of defensive designs that configure consciousness to relish comparative touchstones rather than absolute outcomes that straggle beyond a point of enviable reference to shield the world of the barbarism of botched laments clamoring for an uncertain grave from the gravity of the orbiting satellites of apportioned wealth both sunblind and boorish but simultaneously inextricable from the acclimated fortune of heaped nepotism and herculean opportunism. The intransigence of the weighted destiny of inequity is a squalid enterprise of primeval abrasive and combative tendencies within the bailiwick of the indignant compass inherent to the system that fathoms its deficiencies with crabwise and gingerly pause but airs a sheepish grievance like a bleat of self-exculpation but simultaneously an arraignment of fundamental attribution erroneously indicted without the selfsame reflexiveness characteristic of a transcendent being with other recourses to clamber an avenue to Broadway without malingering in the slums of opprobrious ineffectual remonstration against the arrangement of a blinkered metropolis of uneven gentrification.

We flicker sometimes between the strategic drivel of appeasement and the candor of audacious imprecation of the culprits of indignity or considerate nutritive encomium of the beacons of ameliorated enlightenment because we often masquerade a half-witted glib consciousness lazily sketched by the welters of verve alloyed with the rancid distaste of squalor and slumber on the faculty of conscientious swivels of prudential expeditions with an avarice for bountiful considered thought and wily contortions of demeanor that issue the affirmative traction of adaptive endeavor to cheat a warped system for a reconciled peace and a refined self-mastery. We need to traduce the urchins that sting the system with pangs of opprobrious ballyhoo and the effluvia of foofaraw that contaminate with pettifoggery and small-minded blather the arenas better suited for the gladiatorial combat of cockalorums tinged with a dose of intellectual effrontery beyond the span of dogmatism rather than the hackneyed platitudes that infest the news cycle with folksy backwardation catered to the fascism of a checkered established press that urges insurrection while tranquilizing dissent against the furtive actions of consequence hidden behind the draped verdure of pretense whose byproduct is only a self-referential sophistry that swarms like an intractable itch to devolve the spectator into a pasquinaded spectacle of profound human obtuseness that pervades malignantly the system of debate until the reductionists outwit themselves with the empty prevarication of circular logic that deliberately misfires to miss the target of true importance because of the pandered black hole easily evaded by creatures of high sentience but inevitably ensnaring the special kind of dupe into a cycle of bellicose ferocity of internecine balkanization. The vainglory of the omphalos of entertainment is also another reckoning because it festers a cultural mythos of glorified crapulence parading a philandered promiscuity with half-baked antics that gravitate attention and the lecheries of gaudy tenses of recycled tinsel alloyed by debased aberrations of seedy grapholagnia that magnetize as they percolate because of the insidious catchphrases embedded in pedestrian syncopation that ignite retention and acclimate to mediocrity the sounds of generations discolored by faint pasty rainbows rather than ennobled by majestic landscapes of ignipotent mellifluous sound that stands a supernal amusement still for the resourceful trainspotter.

Despite the contumely aimed in the direction of contrarians for deviating from the lockstep clockwork hustle of stooped pandered manipulation that peddles the wares of an entirely counterfeit reality, I stand obstinately against the melliferous stupefaction of entire genres of myth and subcultures huddled around the sentimental tug of factitious sophistries regaled by thick amorphous apostates that cherish the vacuous sidetracked spotlight with fervor rather than pausing on the enigmatic querulous inquisition about the penumbras that lurk with strained effort beneath or above the categorical nescience of the shadowy unknown that often coruscates with elegance even in obscurity. I fight with labored words to spawn a psychological discipline that invokes the incisive subaudition of the pluckily pricked exorcism of true insight from the husk of buzzwords that constellate auxiliary tangential distractions from the art form of psychological discernment that predicates itself on the concept that the rarefaction of rumination by degrees of microscopic precision enables the introspective hindsight of conscious events that can be parsed without the acrimony of cluttered conflations of the granular prowess of triumphant ratiocination that earns a panoramic perch with the added luxury of perspicacious insight into the atomic structure of the rudiments of our phenomenological field and the abstractions that linger beyond perceptual categorization. When we analyze the gradients of anger, for example, we can either be ****** into a brooded twinge of wistful resentment or we can decipher that through heuristics designed to cloister the provenance of subconscious repose with ignorance there exists a regimented array of tangential accessories embedded deep within the cavernous repository of memory that designates a cumulative trace of compounded symmetries of concordant experience immediately perceptible because of the tangible provocateur of our gripes and the largely subliminal tusk that protrudes because of primal instinct that squirms with peevishness because of the momentary context preceded by the desultory churn of smoldering associations swimming with either complete intangible sputtered mobility through the tract of subconscious hyperspace or rigidly fixated by an arraignment of circumstances with propinquity to the deep unfathomed flicker of bygones receding or protruding because of the warped and largely unpredictable rigmarole of constellated spreading activation.  
When we examine the largesse of the swift recourse of convenience we forget by degrees the travail that once bridged the span of experience from patient abeyance in provident pursuit to now the importunate glare of inflated expectations for immediacy that stings the whole enterprise of societal dynamics because it vitiates us with a complacency for the filigrees of momentary tinsel of a virtualized reality divorced from the concretism that used to undergird interaction and now stands outmoded as a wisp beyond outstretched hands straggling beyond the black mirror of a newfangled narcissistic clannishness that shepherds the ostentation of conceit to a predominant position that swaddles us with fretful diversion that operates on a warped logic of lurid squalor and pasty trends becoming the mainstays of a hypercritical linguistic system of entrapment based on the apostasy of candor for the propitiation of fringed aberration because of the majoritarian uproar about touchy butthurt pedantic criticasters with a penchant for persnickety structuralism. With the infestation of entertainment with the ubiquitous political cavils engineered by the ruling class to have a common arena of waggish irreverence we forget that sometimes the impetuous ****** of propaganda is cloaked by the fashionable implements of a rootless time writhing in a purported identity crisis only to gawk at the ungainly reflection of modernity in the mirror and remain blissfully unaware about the transmogrified cultural psyche that feeds the lunacy of endless spectacle based on the premise that one singular whipping post can unite an entire generation of miscegenated misfits looking for commonality to team up against the aging generations that cling to the sanctity of cherished jingoism against the intentionality of a revamped system that malingers with empty promises using exigency and legerdemain to obscure the mooncalves among their ranks that march on with quixotic dreams that tolerate only the idea of absolute tolerance and moderate only when feasibly permitted by the anchored negotiation of the fulcrum of totemic governmental responsibility between factions that wage volleys of invective at each other to promote a binary choice of vitiated compromises of mendaciloquence that ultimately endanger the republic with either the perils of hidebound conventionalism and nativist fervor or the boondoggles of fiscally irresponsible insanity cloaked with rainbows and participation trophies. Reproach can be distributed to both sides of the aisle because ironically in a world where gender is non-binary the most important reproductive ***** in the free world is a binary-by-default despotism that polarizes extremely ludic fantasies on the left met with the acrimony of the traditionalisms on the right that staunchly resist the fatuous confusions of delegated order only to the sharp rebuke of the revamped political vogue that owes its sustenance to a manufactured diplomacy of saccharine lies and ubiquitous lampoons that are lopsided in the direction of a globalist neoliberal bricolage of moderately popular buzzwords and the trojan horse of insubordinate flippant feminism that seeks to subvert through backhanded manipulation the patriarchy so many resent using lowbrow tactics and poignant case studies rather than legislating the egalitarian system into law using the proper channels. I myself am a political independent who sides with fiscal conservatism but libertarianism in most other affairs because the pettifoggery of law-and-order politics is a diatribe overused by sheltered suburbanites and red meat is often just as fatuous as blue tinsel and sadly in a majoritarian society the ushers of conformity demand corporate divestiture in favor of an ecological system of predictability rather than an opinionated welter of legitimate challenges to a broken system of backwards partisanship and wangled consent. Ultimately, I remain mostly apolitical, but I am a fervent champion of the mobilization of education to a statelier standard that demands rigor and responsibility rather than the chafe of rigmarole that understates the common objectives of humanity and rewards conventional thinking and nominal participation to earn credentialed pedigree when the bulk of talent resides elsewhere.
john oconnell Jul 2010
Impoverishment ?

The sheen
of sun
on parked cars'
rooves
and
bonnets -

materialistic gods
in many lands.
Jami Samson Oct 2013
Shopping outfashioned hunting and gathering,
Processed beats fresh,
Groceries replaced fruit trees,
Malls superceded forests,
Churches outnumbered temples,
Countries dissolved to territories,
Places devolved to areas,
Paths broke down into highways,
Commodity converted to currency,
Laborers submit to machinery,
Masters engage in humbug,
Apprentices reduced to students,
Knowledge downgraded to education,
And education is deducted to a show of grades,
While schools are the stages,
And the corporate world is the bigger runway,
With work slumped to employment,
Wisdom demoted to profession,
Where in jobs are the only future,
Careers are the only success,
Clicking and pressing buttons are skills,
Computers are correspondent to brains,
Information refers to news reports,
Intelligence means up-to-dateness,
Browsing is preferable to reading,
Studying is in demand more than learning,
Viewing things flashed on screens yields awareness,
Transportation is to traveling,
As buying is to the three basic needs,
And needs embody worldly possessions,
Worldly possessions define happiness,
Happiness is due to selfishness,
Selfishness is traced to the lack of love,
The lack of love draws from the lack of faith,
Because faith stands for religion,
And religion stands for membership,
Where politicians are the gods,
Celebrities are the preachers,
And the preachers are the enemies,
While networking is equal to friendship,
And connection equates to communication,
Experiences require photos,
Memories necessitate uploading,
Souvenirs can be downloaded,
Smartphones are substitute to pets,
Gadgets are toys,
Holding controllers is playing,
Watching TV is exploring the great outdoors,
Internet is recreation,
And technology is a way of life;
While humans are scientists,
Nature is a guinea pig,
And the earth is a laboratory,
Where prices are misidentified for worth,
Processes are miscalculated as progress,
Impoverishment is confused with improvement,
And getting more is mistaken as getting better;
And then we wonder why
Homes have become houses,
Family members have become boarders,
Nations are separate species
Composed of tired and hungry citizens,
Children are monsters
Who are biochemically rascals,
Teenagers are zombies
Whose adventures lead to delinquency,
Adults are robots
Who just clang when touched,
And life is not so simple
As how it is said to be.
#41, Oct.14.13
Nat Lipstadt Nov 2018
strike my eyes lovely


for S. B.

by way of introduction,
when you have gone to confession,
freely admitting you have nothing left for others to harvest,
no seed to plant a new crop, and lies and laughter, interchangeable,
there is no poetry left, not even raisin scone crumbs,
one good friend informs that a forgotten five month old poem,
a computer has selected & resurrected, for distinction

so months later you snicker for you have been seriously
self-kicked away from writing, all your vocabularies,
trite and yellowed overused, and you read
really good poetry and are
slapped-seen-outed by the impoverishment of
your own no-winsome word-smithy,
no delusions, even this, but a-quick script, more a thank you note,
and it’s the only lasting quality is the
genuine nature of its intent
but the poem itself falls bottom of the cliff, short on quality,
a victim of your dissatisfaction

let me explain better

she messages you while the time difference works in her favor,
she reads while you sleep the sleep of the soul-exhausted,
she, scoffing at your claims of motivation deprivation,
as she cherishes this forgotten one,
with words that cannot be ignored

the poem

                 strikes her eyes lovely

daggered, this morning phrase cannot go unchallenged  

for this a compliment that any poet would
weep for, be inspired by, stung into action,
provoked, ego flattered and challenged to-do more-better,
what writer could want for anything more!

who can own this ability  
accept this ultimatum of success, a cross-word crucification

to strike down lovely
the readers eyes, almost all once,
almost excuses me forever
for trying and failing so many times

you smile
but not in the chest where
lovely
needs to strike you

for if you cannot strike the readers eyes again and again, then...
let the moment gleam, and then disappear,
again and again, stored but not restorative

11/21/18
Miami
Kam Yuks Dec 2012
As a testament
A documented file of bones.
A sight appears daily
Inside somedays, outside others.
But always -
Here.

For history mostly
An attempt so vain that the facade of denial rots a hole in the stomach feigning recognition.

Sad mostly as boredom subsides.
Drown in collected moments of mediocrity and save the gold coins for the enemies eye lids. All along you kicked them around when you needed them most; crying about loss, misfortune, and isolation.
Nat Lipstadt May 2014
Plane Poetry: I go to Barber*

aisle seat C 14,
an emergency exit row,
forced to solemnly swear
that for the extra legroom,
I will solemnly assist to open
the exit door, me first as my reward,
and keep my terrified screaming
below an elephant's trumpeting mating call

what hast this to do with a trip to Barber?

you Brits and Aussies, ever economical,
say went 'to hospital,'
leaving we Ameddicans
to dignify that august institution
as going to
The Hospital

Thus advised, be apprised, a
Nota Bene Benidictus:

I go to Barber,
Not
I go to the barber.

Samuel Barber,
Adagio for String Quartet, Barber

If unfamiliar with this piece,
you will recall it well
if "Apocalypse Now" registers at all

If not stop immediately,
return to Go,
start here,

www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRMz8fKkG2g


be prepared to surrender your mortality,
listen and if effected,
if you find yourself on your knees
weeping, recalling the days of loss,
the early empires of hope,
the first kiss
of your firstborn
and unknowingly,
the last you gave
a loved one

if you have the courage to
be touched and impacted,
as I,
then welcome back to
right here where why...

I go to Barber
where violins soar me heavenwards,
where violins rip open sores long since scarred over,
I go to Barber
and float, eyes sky'd, as water
fills and departs my body simultaneously,
I go to Barber
to know that art can rise beyond,
that my weakened, wrecked human flesh, surpassable  
I go to Barber
to harmonize my disconcordia,
romantic lyricisize my waning days,
I go to Barber
to voluntary confess, admit my impoverishment,
to acknowledge that they, my days, yet are capable,
I go to Barber
to remember and to forget,
to mark and unmark time
I go to Barber
to be created and recreated,
to be destructed and despaired
I go to Barber
to acknowledge, as human, better is forever possible,
for of the god spark, yet unextinguished
I go to Barber
because there is no plane as fast as his slow adagio,
to transport me to the who I am and should yet be
Over the Carolina's? 3+ years later, came
https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2250737/yet-another-violin-adagio/
onlylovepoetry Aug 2016
the desperado cowboy-poet awakes
anxious, needing-ending relief,
the craving greater than great,
he begs-raggedly, with Raggedy handily Andy words,
to all and anyone in the aroused surrounded vicinity,
give please give, of something to write

the bay, soothingly plays the would-be author,
"place me, look my way,
have I not droplets endless
from which you've drunk exquisitely,
so many more to fair share"

the birds twit and flit,
raucous caucus demanding
to be seated
by the tablet's keypad
to gain entry
to one more congressional natural tribute

the sky and sun organize a
joint session, extraordinary mission;
"we are the first of your day,
thus primarily,
we win the primary,
deserving in your recording of our
nomination as the first day's
sound and light show victorious"

sorry folks,
got a better tale to tell,
natural in its way,
titillating, and quite suitable
for reputating Au Naturel humanity
and it's a quirky, say hey tale,
morning coffee fresh,
a first word report from an
untelivised convention
of a different kind of congressing

awoke to find the:

chauffeur in bed with the cook,
the Poppy, beside the sleeping Nana,
the poet, eyeing the lying next to him, tango dancer,
the classicist eyeing the sleeping moderne,
ditty ditsy Ogden Nash astride a Shakesperian sonnet,
the thinning gray line defending his bedded half,
from an invading horde of unionizing blonde tresses,
the republican with the democrat,
the conservative with the liberal,
heated discussions, non-neutralizing negotiations
conducting and watched by
peeping tom skies, clouds, birds and waters
pretending to fly flow past



wow

now that,
is quite interesting
deserving worthy of a
disrobing disputatious disreputation,
very newsworthy and why not,
a poem all its own?

the bay waved goodbye,
the birds disbanded in silence,
quietly disenfranchised.

the sun and the sky hung around
pretending to be UN neutrality observers
wearing cute blue and white helmets
looking every where but not,
at the line of demarcation


the beggar, by his new impoverishment, enriched,
another love poem writ,
niched and pitched
one more itch,
so very well scratched
new sign on the bedroom door:
No Politicking Beyond This Point

8:09am August 6, 2019
CharlesC Jul 2014
If your daily life seems of no account, don't blame it; blame yourself that you are not poet enough to call forth its treasures. For the creative artist there is no impoverishment and no worthless place. (Rainer Maria Rilke)

Paris, February 17, 1903
Letters to a Young Poet
In the doorways of regret where the cold winds of disappointment and let's not forget debt,reside
I have hidden thoughts and notebooks,there inside the darkened,unlit space,afraid to face and yet I must decide
that where these things reside, do I also want to live.

With nothing left to give or choose and holes in both of my worn out shoes,cardboard for a comfy bed,I am being slowly led into my own impoverishment.
Intent on keeping from the workhouse door and wanting more than what I've got
I spot each opportunity and score accordingly,
three points for a no hope job placement and being lent on by the job centre,who seem bent on placing me,somewhere where I should not be.
A point each for all charities and gold stars for the few who try to please the many,I haven't any words that can express just how the streets can mess you up.
Soup runs get a special mention for delivering to my attention,beef and broth and crusty bread
so if is that I am being led into the downtown streets, at least I'll go well fed and with company,
so many folks like me
down and misunderstood,both bad and good and some who could be so much more than
the man you'd rather not run into when out with friends and they ask you to,dig deep and
contribute
you, in your suit cannot explain
why it is you give and don't complain to politicians sat in high court clubs
and you,sat in the city pubs with colleagues,leagues away from streets which pay
no attention any more
to regrets inside the darkened doorway.
Here I stay like yesterday,the day before and like a hundred days or more,
if providence prevails
one day for sure all ships will sail into the harbour
and these thought I harbour greedily as I lay down to drink my cup of tea and sift through countless memories
and try to make some sense of it.
As he grew he looked and desired,
others had more and he was tired.
Possession became his love and soul,
all those heaps could never fill the hole.
Glimpse the depts to find the cure.
We are here to Endure.

What did they do to deserve what they get?
His heart ached, he could never forget.
He wanted it more, he deserved much better.
He made his mind a filthy place to litter.
Pat your shoulder and reassure.
We are here to Endure.

Shunned by the universe,
he rose in a heroic verse.
Thought everyone else was bleak,
to himself did he lie and cheat.
Admit that you're insecure.
We are here to Endure.

He was hurt and he was blamed
he was never reclaimed.
At every turn he became aggressive.
Offended world would misconceive.
Repent, forgive and feel secure.
We are here to Endure.

Pressure drove him to frustration;
His yearning became his passion.
Disordered desire bind him in slavery.
Suffered he, in shame, sadness and misery.
Redirection is a manure.
We are here to Endure.

Low self esteem put him through hell,
disquiet apatite became his shell.
Departed away from the Divine.
Impoverishment and disgrace is a sign.
Abstinence will seize epicure.
We are here to Endure.

Failure left him without traction;
murmuring the songs of wishful imagination.
Dreams he sought are his anchor,
glued to the couch, he just hanker.
Without diligence you're immature.
We are here to Endure.
TD Rucker Jun 2012
Right and wrong
remaining relative
I work for a better tomorrow
My views differ
from that of others
Making me always wrong
Given this life
Given no light
Through the tunnel we're sent
No instruction or hint
Finding one's self in poverty
wishing for property
for freedom comes
with ownership
Having just self
is impoverishment
And to think
just a drink
Will make myself disappear
With fear I move forward
for a better tomorrow!
mike Apr 2015
my job is a useless service.
i absorb the excess which finds its way to me in a broken economy.
and if i continue to accept this charity then i am party to the crime.

what the mouth of excess steals from the bowels of impoverishment will have nowhere to go.

so i sit and wait
and it spills onto me.

i have money to eat.
but i should have food instead.
Tommy May 2014
Tell them to look towards the stars
And within them they'll find their dreams.
What you won't tell them is that
Halfway across the world they dream of seeing
Another child does the same
Only to watch their dreams snatched from their fingertips
Carried away by the white clouds
As rain clouds fill their night sky
And the stars disappear
As the neon lights
Illuminate their impoverishment.
They will not dream of the same things
As our children,
But of education, of food
And of rest
Of a clean water source
To which they aren't required to walk miles
And as the cats roll into town
Their eyes spiralling and their grins wide
The children will look down from the stars,
A sight they know in their hearts
They will never see them again.
We only have the right to express ourselves
Through the way in which we decorate ourselves
Because these children don't dream anymore.
Graff1980 Nov 2017
The slippery seeds
of discontent
are spent
on the soft
and fertile soil
of my fractured soul.

Anger fuels
a field of fury
and I push myself
beyond the simple confines
of physical comfort
and a sane mine.

I plant my feet
and feel the soft earth
part and slowly swallow
the portions of me
that are hopelessly hollow.

The rage against
human violence
and the impoverishment
of humanity,
the devastation
of the sharp blades
of heartbreak
from rejection
form a sword
of self-hate
that I use to
cut away
any weeds
that might impede
my growing season.
The pliable dirt,
soft brown earth
allows me to sink in
for the final planting.

All my seeds drop
rage,
pain,
fear,
doubt.

Then in the spring
something unforeseen
comes blooming.

Instead of a sick
and disgusting human thing
full of deformities,
a new creature emerges
for the harvesting.
A long stalk
of self-improvement,
a truly creative,
and compassionate being
is freed,
and I harvest him.
He nourishes me
as I strive to be
the man
I always wanted to be.
Damon Heard Dec 2014
The Answer
Won't be solved
Until we realize for our self

Understanding will be the beginning
Guilt will follow
Impoverishment will be the result

Our resolution to absolution
Ties with engagement & commitment
Our duty will equal our homage
Deborah Downes Apr 2017
Faith believes what the senses belie
Its roots go deep tho the flower is shy

Strongly waxing in impoverishment
Meekly waning in fulfillment

Almighty is Faith’s power
Ever gentle, but never cowers

Binding humanity to our Creator
Loosening the chains of the destroyer

Though often flawed in its conception
Faith elicits near perfection

Though smaller than a mustard seed
One's greatest hopes it may exceed

Dreams become reality in its presence
While reality turns to nightmare in its absence

Faith is a mystery I choose not to ponder
But rather prefer to bask in its wonder.
Dada Olowo Eyo Feb 2019
Cast in the wrong play,
Of life,
Terrible scripts,
Of impoverishment;

But in a parallel reality,
That young mind on cheap highs,
Is a brilliant entrepreneur,
On a low key.
Many young people roaming the many cities of that country called  may have been better employed in productive enterprise in another dimension. It is painful to see many wasting away while those vagabonds in power continue living large on the commonwealth of the people.
Dada Olowo Eyo Jan 2018
If only thine resolve woult split this hackneyed arrangement,
Of decades bound up in  insidious impoverishment,
Cornered to loud silences behind qwerty lines,
Only praying for the day of pleasant places along scentous pines.
Dada Olowo Eyo Oct 2018
Yellow, hugging dark recesses,
Sold to impoverishment and lack,
Praying daily for nemesis,
Never willing to take the knife by the jack.
Nigerians are generally cowed by fear of the unknown.
Lobbed and unleashed upon the heads
of (yours truly and the missus)
so called selfish "monsters."

The evening of Wednesday April 19th
witnessed us (birth parents of our first born)
weathering blistering telephonic brickbats.

She (unnamed eldest daughter)
spewed venomous bilious froth
across aforementioned medium
encompassing quite a few hours.

Upon being queried
how costly the purchase
of pre owned 2020 Hyundai Elantra,
I responded quasi cryptically
indicating nine thousand dollars
paid (courtesy trust account,
whereby mine older sister made executrix),
which represented less than half
the total dollar figure of said automobile.

Acknowledgement of vehicular acquisition
triggered unfettered tirade
loosed out the mouth of progeny
not only denouncing decision
regarding spending beyond my means,
but excoriating me for being an ingrate
throughout the lifetime of offspring,
a veritable charity case,
who exercised little or no foresight
and abdicating financial responsibilities
incumbent upon a negligent father.

At a tender vittle young age
upsetting behavior on behalf of gifted daughter
threats of self harm near impossible mission
wrought helplessness at horror
parental sense and sensibility,
nor forced therapy (which backfired,
when prized progeny) violently
against professional intervention
then cherished child fought
tooth and nail desperate
measure for measure didst disengage
reception and begat stone walling response,
when lovely lass

verbally probed with kid gloves
courtesy child psychologist
myopic yet keen eyes of mine did gauge
and grievously concluded helplessness
and stark similarity
when writer of these words
in the throes of severe depression
viz anorexia nervosa at prepubescent stage
race against time
confronting uncomfortable truth
life of Matthew Harris at stake,
thus Boyce and Harriet battle
regarding earthling in the balance did wage.

Nevertheless ill preparedness to sire kin
ushered me into emerging adulthood,
where raging hormonal secretion
think seminal ******* without birth control
analogous to Russian roulette spin
no surprise when haploid
male germ cell hit figurative bullseye
with resultant "bun in the oven"
read embryo a biological win.

Though a whip smart girl
University of Pennsylvania alumna
from engineering school
and living independently
approximately one third of her life,
she never lets us forget
financial hardship linkedin with
parents who exhibited
severe emotional impoverishment,
hence psychological indelible rupture
forever alienating a sad papa.

Despite understandable estrangement
after premature ******* took aim,
(I accept onus of supposed blame)
omnipotent bond rent asunder
between knight in tarnished armor
who could hardly wait
until college matriculation time came
cuz darling daughter her manifest destiny,
she wanted to jimmy and game

essentially severing home ties
haunted by abominable ghosts of yesteryear
donning and modestly trumpeting success
at life, liberty, and pursuit of happiness
mantle of pridefulness
without prejudice wear.
Gerry Sykes Dec 8
The cracked and umber, cyan, lichened bark,
its wintry deprivation echoes stark
impoverishment: the denizens live their
neglected, leafless lives, in Highgate Park.

The winter icy earth’s, anaemic fare,
enough for hungry birds and squirrels, there
is insufficient food for bigger beasts,
who huddle, famished, in the frosty air.

A grassland’s faded, green, uncut, now greets
all walkers down its dwindled concrete streets,
replacement for old honeyed flags: new flaws
displacing golden pathways, lined with seats.

The squirrel, hungry in the cold still gnaws
her nuts: she holds the winter food in claws,
and quickly looks for danger, then a pause,
and runs, avoiding snapping canine jaws
rubaiyat about a park in a deprived area of Birmingham (GB). I have a free verse version of this poem in free verse that I will post later
Dada Olowo Eyo Mar 2020
Under the hardship of poverty,
And persistent lack of anything comfortable,
The people have turned a brutal lot,
Not minding whether their leaders perish;

But why blame them?
All they have known is impoverishment,
From cradle to grave is a struggle,
With no affection from the top;

The people attend rotten hospitals,
Learn, if at all, in crumbling schools,
Move around in rusty public transport,
And are buried in overgrown graveyards;

And when the forces bless their tormentors-in-chief,
With ailments of Eastern origins,
And cannot go to Western lands for cure,
The people are glad, and dance to karma's melodious rhythms.
Unconfirmed rumours are rife that Nigeria's president, vice president, chief-of-staff to the president and a number of aides may likely be infected by COVID19.

The word on the street is that the old men in power may just be getting a tatse of their own medicine as they are forced to use the neglected health facilities they budgeted humongous sums for over four to five years.

And the people are generally in expectation of the worst for their leaders that have never shown them any form of concern in previous times.

Interesting times indeed.
Yenson Sep 2020
At least some got off their *****
and put in enough effort and graft
to attain higher reaches in mind and rewards
exceedingly well to the point of inviting envious glances

while some remain lazy and dulled
lacking sense efforts and inspiration to progress
with opportunities begging yet opted to fester in crime
blaming this and that from rulers to elitists but not themselves

see now the disgrace carping wildly
willowing in destruction and plotting damages
deflecting self loathing and mind and efforts impoverishment
in wooden headed gymnastics hawking the snake oil of mutiny

in deluded propaganda and hate
with fundamental ignorance burning bright
and inanity and cowardice leading charge of the dim brigade
our mob screams nihilism of ONE ex colonial subject as golden trophy
Please award The Victoria Cross all round
never has there been a more deserving matter for contempt ever

— The End —