"incurring" poems
a) i am the mortar incurring blow after blow
from the abrasive quality of your negligence.
no, i am herb between pestle and mortar
the full realization of 'rock and a hard place'
b) i am the mortar between each brick you lay,
in blue collar glory, or rock star slumming,
to bind shaky corridors of past serenity
and bear indiscretions on my limestone shoulders
c) i am the mortar you fire before crawling under covers
for inexpensive *** and trashier beer
by a lake on a camping trip where tents trump love
like the queen of spades in a hand of hearts
d) in fact, these are false, merely possibilities --
actuality: you were never enough
to make me spew homonyms in metaphor
because you were nothing like them,
always appearing changed but monotonous in meaning,
and if you're so into contraposition,
are we not but names for each other?
Jun 18, 2013
Jun 18, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
We're all still teenagers writing about love
Like *** can save
Dropping coins into a fat, pink piggy bank
With a hole in the bottom
Merely a bad investment,
All your sense is rolling off the table
On to the ***** bedroom floor
Where you lend love in hopes of incurring interest
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC
Some time Life is like a dark room,
Indiscernible indulge to intuit incurring infusion
Infusion of irrelevant and irregular,
Leads to a moment of disappointment and despondent!
******
But when light penetrate
Everything becoming vivid - vivacious
and set up Valve to visions!
*******
Allow light to break in and spread all over.......
Make everyone spirited and shunt for
Peace and progress!!!
Jun 28, 2015
Jun 28, 2015 at 3:59 AM UTC
Killed, have you, thousands of innocents
Truly, are you Satan's agents
Destroying an entire nation
In the name of counter-terrorism
Completely abandoning rationalism
And carrying out mass slaughter, with chilling precision
You call yourself a democracy
Yet, you show absolutely no mercy
Even when it cometh to children
Your humanity is absolutely barren
When we call you out
"Anti-Semitic", do you brand us, without a second thought
Jesus tells us to love even our enemies
However, your sheer hatred never does cease
You pretend to be the victim
However, filled to the brim
Is your cup of everlasting greed
As you continue to occupy land after land
And never allow the world to take a stand
Even as there are millions to feed
While the genocide reaches a fever pitch
Because, always functions, does your killing machine, without a hitch
You are so evil
That you **** and ****
Without giving a dime about incurring the wrath of God
Over goodness, do you run roughshod
You think you own Palestine
However, enough have we seen
And enough have we had
The world is mad
Soon, will you pay the price
For your insatiable avarice
Your days are numbered
Soon, will the tide be turned
You may continue your state terrorism
Which you call "counter-terrorism"
However, it is only a matter of time
Before there is divine retribution
For the numerous crimes of your so-called democratic nation
Viva Palestina!!
Amen!! Hallelujah!!
Dec 26, 2023
Dec 26, 2023 at 11:17 AM UTC
I'm pacing the corridor,
that desperate zone
between insomnia and insanity,
sanctuary of eccentrics
and junkies
chasing a word, a fix,
a revelation,
an allegorical mix
of purple haze, logic and similes...
It's a race of attrition,
of addicts incurring
meteoric costs of opportunity
irretrievable,
surreal,
euphoric,
and misunderstood...
like mania
this corridor precedes time
and space
it is the beginning
of faith and exploration
and revelation....
dead poets live here...
~ P (Pablo)
(7/31/2013)
Jul 31, 2013
Jul 31, 2013 at 5:41 AM UTC
Policy or personal
questions? In the poem Two White Wines
a child adopted from Cambodia
is a thing of beauty, and so she is
as she showed herself to be yesterday. Lovely. However
the poet implies market, i.e. economic, forces brought her
to America
when, as her parents know, it was war,
the sad Vietnam War or the War with America
as I think the Vietnamese remember it.
Honor and bravery
equal courage. Reed Whittemore's poem about
a photo of Viet Cong prisoners, stoic, defiant
under an American officer's boot
expresses admiration for the enemy. Then and now
a dangerous sentiment. Your fellow citizens, denizens
of convenience stores, even your family,
may come to see you as the enemy. Once ostracized,
the other,
not belonging to the loved ones, you're not long for
this world of dew.
**** and ***
Ken says, describes America's culture, not its poets
or jazz. What's worth fighting for?
Your land, your right to be stupid on your land.
Now there is one large land, one people
and many. The vote is a crude, monosyllabic grunt,
no way to express the subtle degrees of experience
our long lives represent. Thus,
it is good, when the family gathers, to talk,
each person speak
of what has been forgotten, forgiven and forgone.
Trading or taking
every family must be tithed or taxed.
Every man who finds his meaning in war
will be pained into wisdom and gentleness.
Who comes home
comes home to a future that bypassed the fighting, or did it?
The oil must be sold,
even Saddam or Osama cannot withhold it.
You can drink your quota of water
and still your heart can ache.
Empire or democracy
of nations? We can choose to be the reigning kings
between the last empire and the next
or we can implement a vision
of collective deliberation.
America the seeing-eye dog,
not America the junkyard dog.
Going question by question
toward predictable, transparent governance.
Example: How can a people become a nation
without resorting to violence or incurring violent reaction?
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:31 AM UTC
*What mighty importance
rests so fat on the shoulders of you
that i'm refused
the right to lay love where I want it grown?
Bonds can loosen
Loads you've carried furthest can be shared
I know Trust is earned
but it's Earnest too, when I demonstrate it purely,
Laying all my bones
at all your doors as promises and gifts
I'll even renew - if you want -
That honest vow to remember all your birthdays
to Topple on your soul
If you need the weight of someone not you.
Can we be side by side
In a blurred rush towards the singularity?
or Am I the ***
you lead to water - am I the water itself?
Don't let me place-hold
or keep the seat warm for overdue truths
There's no need
to balance each other's acts of self sabotage
Or to pretend
Either of us is any more than what we are
We both understand
That grace is to us just brightly coloured feathers.
Please let us be safe
Together, in that disappointing mess
And let me work
on Those snags of control and owning and having
Because I don't remember
how you became confection behind a window
What made me
Treat you as the best since...sliced boys
but My diet did change
I didn't want to spoil you for lesser bread
and Now a hunger
and rot collide in the vacant spaces you're yielding.
Is it an upset
to cry at your objection to my care
Or when I kick
and scream at the labels you stick to me
When you call me
callous Hysterical and paranoid to preoccupation
Incurring open fire
and pointed barbs about your ***** Mother
Who ruined you for women, love
You, who will only ever be half aware of this and that.
I'll go willingly though
on display, to be mocked in silent penance
For What else next
but to try to hold you to me
To try to sit as still
As time and light do for me when you move in my direction
and Be as hard
as your endorsement makes me.
But for all the noise
Of our collapsing walls and siege machinery
The poison
that may never fully be drawn.
You are here.
I am here.
What else are we gonna do.*
Jul 8, 2016
Jul 8, 2016 at 7:22 AM UTC
Obdurate and profligate from years of anomie,
I have become hallow due to this sessile pons asinorum
Incurring solely affliction, I know only discontentment;
My existence is damnation, and damnation is my existence...
Enmity and sorrow are the sole tenants of my heart
No matter my anguish, these demons nevermore will depart
Presiding within my occult and dingy soul;
Anon my antipathy will irrecusably attain control
For hope is naught but an opaque postiche-
A whim that dissipates, even when you beseech
-The Bagatelle
Mar 20, 2014
Mar 20, 2014 at 5:42 PM UTC
I could call ghosts
Closer, yearning for youth
If they were afraid of affection
Machiavelli
Hey, they couldn't feel our love
For Raphael too
They couldn't paint white on our faces
Pale as the moonlight
Fearful of the darkness
In case it overshadows the sun
In the blindness
Which is a touch truant
Incurring divinity
Keeps us from our stars
And luck keeps us in ours
Luck, Celestial
Flows through the solar system
Nov 18, 2018
Nov 18, 2018 at 10:45 AM UTC
Would that all we were Antigones! King Creon forbade the burial of Polynycises, Antingone's brother, but she buiried him anyway, incurring the wrath of Creon who ordered Antigone to be buried alive. But before Creon changed his mind, Antigone had hung herself. And what of Prometheus? He stole fire from Zeus and gave it to mankind. Enraged, Zeus had Prometheus chained to a mountain and sent an eagle every day to eat Prometheus's liver, which grew back every day. This torture lasted years until Hercules killed the eagle with one of his arrows. Courage to do right was met with torture and death. How many human beings over millennia have emulated Antigone and Prometheus? Not enough. Mythology is one thing, reality, sadly, another.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jan 1, 2021
Jan 1, 2021 at 4:24 PM UTC
As I walk across a pathway a heartbeat's width across a floor,
A peculiar sensation finds me wanting of an explanation to adore,
Not a feeling of a feeling, I don't have those anymore,
I can rip open my chest cavity to find nothing at its core.
-
I saw a young fine thing come cantering to a score,
And in her eyes I saw reflected back my lust for gore,
I didn't think of love or courting, that I do stately implore,
I have no idea how I could have had emotion before.
-
Incurring inferences upon deranged insanity,
I deny the charges and insist I must be free,
With my generation crawling at my likeminded feet,
I find myself unable to believe in humanity.
-
An algorithmic synapse of my mind's forward encryption,
Once brought about my failure of a heart's lonely submission,
And to this day I do wish that bitter was a real decision,
But I find something close to comfort with indifference as religion.
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 1:38 PM UTC
Upon (die) re rhea ding previous poem
All In The Name Of "Progress" zen
a glaring, leering,
and twittering left par wren
dared to a right (i.e. bribe)
corrective punctuation measure
slyly slipping Special Ops symbol ")"
for so many yen,
thus see slipped thru my excellent
proof reading, when
lo and behold consternation,
inconsideration, and perturbation
I thought to take a page
from playbook of Sylvia Plath,
and stick my head in the oven
but lo, a sardine recipe
(though a bit fishy),
could be found necessitating cauldron
only available for purchase in Turin
thus donned with a shrouded cape,
aye didst make whoosh,
hence, went there and came back
and frankly tubby earnest,
thence began stir'n
a bubbling concoction brew
though duration for perfect consistency
aye lacked any clue
thus, needed to contact
Hannibal the cannibal
asper what to do
in order (I explained)
to sever livingsocial,
and forever hang my head in shame
cuz, accidentally omitting
one right parenthesis too few
hence, esteemed flawless glory,
(sans error free grammarian
reputation pitched downward
where careless evinced
Kamikaze nosedive, where
matter of fact gross humiliation
instantaneously grew
and the only viable option
forced me to hew
admitting to egregious, fatuous, abhorent
and readily confesses
compunction viz, grievously
blatant Anglo Saxon
Horrifying transgression
involving backward curved "C" sin bent
a most execrable,
incorrigible, and unforgivable
literary faux pas incurring
major cosmic event
stripped of title special
Das Scribe double bubble "A" gent!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Upon complying never to err again
Matthew Scott Harris since
accepted plea bargain
accepting sentence resting his chin
til indelible necklaced "U" lettered grin
forever visible to kith and kin.
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 3:45 PM UTC
My sister is a box of piety,
Tied to obedience to her creator,her priority,
Wrapped in a hijab,plain and simple,
As her way of life,modest and simple.
Layered with prayers which are obligatory,
And recitation of the Quran,that too, necessary.
There are tightly packed packets of truths followed to the letter,
For to lie is to be a sinner.
Antidotes abstains her from harmful deeds or pleasure,
Fears of incurring His displeasure.
The bandages of her beliefs are
so strong,
That the path of Almighty does not deter one to do any wrong.
To her, beliefs of the wise,
Are to feel what is in the heart,say it and act likewise.
She has great bundles of charities
Connected to different activities,
All carried out with sincerities,
Be it be to help a beggar, an orphan or a widow,
She is there to wipe their sorrow.
She has all the kits for the hereafter,
In order to procure heaven ever after.
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 4:50 PM UTC
Inadequacies
The self inflicted gunshot wounds
From holstered weapons going off
When you least expect it
Sometimes in the foot
Usually in the heart
Incurring maximum damage
Precisely at the most inopportune
Moments, made possible by
Years of unconscious conditioning
Loading the chamber with
Hollow points of self worth
From the hip rapid fire assumptions
Sudden onset Alzheimer's headshots
And ****** marvelous notions
That actually is the worst
In the History of Bad Ideas
Some of you conceal and carry
Pistols, others tote around
Semi automatic rifles
And then there are those of us with
Gatlin Guns
Still turning the crank
As we blast our Happiness into
Smithereens straight to Hell
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 12:36 AM UTC
If I say
I don’t believe in God
I would be incurring enemies.
God wouldn’t be one of them.
Nov 5, 2014
Nov 5, 2014 at 2:53 AM UTC
I bide my time
Living a lie
Till I can find
A safe place outside my mind
But its all empty words
And lines blurred
By my unsuccessful incurring
Of my lifes worth
Into anothers heart
Hoping for a new start
But the burden
Of past lovers blundered
The lighting and thunder
And mustered the spark that remained
That remains unkindled to this day
Oct 6, 2015
Oct 6, 2015 at 11:38 PM UTC
December, a vision,
A most wise decision,
I believe a derision
Left us all alone,
Nothing between us,
No one could have seen us,
This event completes us
And leads us along,
My mind was so clouded
And as we were shrouded,
The rest left confounded
And sent to atone,
To seek willing penance,
To break their dependence
To find our ascendance
An encompassing throne,
I seek, we yet make it,
Deciding to break it,
Knowing not what’s at stake yet,
We sought a true home.
But finding revulsion
Furthered compulsion
Our hearts’ errosion
A broken gramaphone.
No memory corrected,
No statue erected
We became infected
With our words in tone,
I looked o'er shoulder,
No longer could hold her,
Or either composure,
Left a haunting moan.
Seeing not corrected,
My soul now indebted,
Forever inspected,
Silencing a groan,
I walked as if courted,
My love, I aborted,
To see you contorted,
My dear, so distorted,
I find self remorseless
Morbid, forsworn it,
Disgusting discourses,
All else but abhor it,
It seems so alluring,
Though mildly incurring,
All but securing
A life worth enduring,
I’d say it was the last thing that I said in this world,
But that’s just a paradox, and a lie beyond that.
Aug 31, 2016
Aug 31, 2016 at 8:07 PM UTC
Addiction
Noun
the fact or condition of being addicted to a particular substance, thing, or activity.
Addicted
Adjective
physically and mentally dependent on a particular substance,
and unable to stop taking it without incurring adverse effects.
enthusiastically devoted to a particular thing or activity.
Baby, I'm addicted to you
You are my addiction
I need you every single day to stay alive
I need you so I don't go insane
You leave me and I go cold turkey
Breaking out into cold sweats
Not being able to move
Dying without you
Time apart is going to **** me
My insides will start to feed off of itself
My eyes will burn because I will run out of tears to douse the fire
My skin will feel like it's ripping itself apart to move closer to you
I will grow wings to migrate wherever you are
I will go deaf if I am not able to hear your voice anymore
I will lie for you
I will die for you
I would do absolutely anything to keep you alive and safe and well
You
Are my addiction
And I need you
Need you for everyday that I am breathing
Everyday that my heart is pumping
Every second that I seem to be alive
I can not let you go
Can not let you out of my system
Can not let you leave without me
Move on without me
I am coming with you
I will never leave you
For you are my addiction
For you are mine
Jun 29, 2017
Jun 29, 2017 at 5:17 PM UTC
Though thine two grown
former babes in crib age,
now lead checkered lives,
no longer monopolize my time
as though their persons went backstage
either one embracing, judging,
and negotiating positive
chutes and ladders with courage
evoking glee this papa
helped both beautiful lasses
avoid being risk averse
navigating life with minimal damage
though to get ahead of the class,
(asper the eldest Eden Liat)
credit karma fairly and squarely attributed
to herself with encourage
meant from this papa, who oft time
felt he lacked any clue
akin to a hobbled battleship left
to drift at sea, whence,
upon landfall sub
sequent lee forced to forage
in a foreign dominion (akin to being
among Settlers of Catan),
plus devoid of instruments to gauge,
an optimal strategic operation,
thus figuratively groping in the dark
(unaware of a brewing twister)
guided by blind faith
doth admit saying sorry,
but apologetic homage
would disqualify thyself,
a "FAKE" mastermind
undeserving of just desserts,
unfairly via diktat plucking sweet treats
awash within Candy Land,
a deceptive image
entrancing, luring and, spellbinding
ultimately incurring trouble,
particularly when Shana Aubrey
(younger by about
twenty six months)
garnered lion's share of parental attention
necessitated mandatory intervention
due to language
skills, plus pronounced
developmental delay,
where supreme social service
sages gentle massage
wrought divine prestidigitation
as one after another
case worker did overencourage
to counteract congenital
cognitive setback (coalesced in utero),
now finds das dada envious
(cuz, aye got mired, hogtied,
and bogged down with
obsessive compulsive trivial pursuit,
hence warrant so lucky as thee Punim)
steers ship shape body electric
round her uncharted cerebral
cape of good hope passage.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 11:00 AM UTC
Feb 2014 (rev. Sept 2024)
***you who dare to choose,
thus the risk incurring,
after calculating the oddities,
accepting the perfidies
that others will present
with deceptive smiles,***
but
once done,
let it be your single solitary
chosen life, a bridge, and a red
badge of courage, and let us all
say life is the reward for being true,
and honorable
Sep 7, 2024
Sep 7, 2024 at 8:33 AM UTC