"indenture" poems
Music
by Stephen Vincent Benet
My friend went to the piano; spun the stool
A little higher; left his pipe to cool;
Picked up a fat green volume from the chest;
And propped it open.
Whitely without rest,
His fingers swept the keys that flashed like swords,
. . . And to the brute drums of barbarian hordes,
Roaring and thunderous and weapon-bare,
An army stormed the bastions of the air!
Dreadful with banners, fire to slay and parch,
Marching together as the lightnings march,
And swift as storm-clouds. Brazen helms and cars
Clanged to a fierce resurgence of old wars
Above the screaming horns. In state they passed,
Trampling and splendid on and sought the vast-
Rending the darkness like a leaping knife,
The flame, the noble pageant of our life!
The burning seal that stamps man's high indenture
To vain attempt and most forlorn adventure;
Romance, and purple seas, and toppling towns,
And the wind's valiance crying o'er the downs;
That nerves the silly hand, the feeble brain,
From the loose net of words to deeds again
And to all courage! Perilous and sharp
The last chord shook me as wind shakes a harp!
. . . And my friend swung round on his stool, and from gods we were men,
"How pretty!" we said; and went on with our talk again.
2k
I hate writing in pentameter,
That nagging old parameter reduces
The breadth of expression's diameter.
It's a barrier, a boundary, a cage built around me.
I'd rather cast off the impediment and
Allow my thoughts to sediment freely,
Really, I just can't dig it, ya feel me?
After a while, it gets so **** repetitive, and
I'll bet it did drive Shakespeare nuts
When he wrote all his sonnets, back
When lords rocked big wigs and their
Ladies wore bonnets. That's another thing
It's been used and abused for like six *********
Centuries, contemptibly does this old relic
Haunt us and daunt us and taunt us
Writing's not meant to be a chore,
It shouldn't bore and indenture me, but
Rather, set me free me and
Instead be adventure, see?
Wow.
I'm Somehow,
Feeling much better now.
Mar 23, 2016
Mar 23, 2016 at 9:15 AM UTC
As cricket still a widget
and insure that noir not cankerous
though evening nigh round ten
whether it resorts at the door affirmatively sound
or an answer with divine presence there
but as countdown in air midst with his rap indenture
till another person knocks it down again tonight.
Dec 15, 2016
Dec 15, 2016 at 7:46 AM UTC
i was in debt the day i was born.
the nurse said i was a natural red,
mom didn't believe her
boy
did i
show her
indebted to the woman's womb i struggled out of
the man's genes i inherited
and they dare to ask me
"are you a natural
red?"
the color of my blood is a natural ginger
just enough in my father's mustache
i am in debt
naturally
sometimes i can still feel
the umbilical cord
that she guilted me
into keeping
attached
i was born in debt
i am in the red
naturally
mommy
won't let go of me
i tried to get away
twenty
years ago
she could show
you the scars
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 10:00 PM UTC
let us speak in tones, hushed,
of mountains and molehills.
benchmarked by
tape measures,
underscored, with concerned apprehension.
for now it is time,
to masticate the elephant
and the roaring lion too.
with silver plated forks and knifes undulled with use.
slap down your grievance on the noritake dinnerware
and partition the proportion, dissect the angst,
and delicately place the rage, between your bloodless lips.
to sit,
ashlike on your scathing tongue.
we will drink,
your aged bitterbile wine,
in leaden crystal goblets.
smile at your witticisms,
however,
humdrum and malign.
and when the elephant,
is but ivory and leather.
and the king of beasts,
but a tattered rug,
upon your floor.
we shall cry jubilee, jubilee,
cry freedom.
our indenture is done.
emancipation now has come.
and we will run, we will run.
it is then,
we will be,
looking at life,
with kaleidescope eyes.
fitted with lenses of love, joy, and liberty, crystalized within.
we will be,
dancing the fandango,
with robust, rebellious gusto
and singing glory, hallelujah riffs.
and o' there will be laughter
and big broad smiles.
and o' there will be hugging
and much comfort shared.
and the door will be open,
for anyone to come sit
and chatter on for a while.
heaven on earth,
heaven on earth.
Mar 18, 2014
Mar 18, 2014 at 7:19 AM UTC
Hard Fall
Dead Winter
Soft Spring
Suddenly Summer
Rehash
All the needles on the ground I found
and cigarette butts
Create the frame of this city-town
and liberate us
Liberate?
Indenture
Is a better descriptor
Should you beat elitism
Peace and Love?
Progressive?
Truth is lost to history
Should you read you see schism
From one bridge looking North
I see at least five more bridges
Westside and East split by a river
This is a long, long division
And it's not stopped
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 7:48 AM UTC
Striding through life
Yet tainted by sin
I collect the broken and give hope again.
Give me your heartbreak
Your personal cross
My shoulders are broad, yet surprisingly soft.
I'll give you me
A healer by nature
You're not a slave for life to indenture.
Past filled with strife
I painted my skin
Now let down your guard so I can get in.
Feb 4, 2013
Feb 4, 2013 at 6:35 PM UTC
A hunger indeed is a hungry tiger in need, Wait! An indenture in my soul speaks in desire, so its an incrementation from Mammalia Justice League , for punishment in this in intolerable act we are served to read 3 years of children's rhymes, only on rice milk and Nut loaf.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
let us speak in tones.....
hushed......
of mountains and molehills.
benchmarked by tape measures,
underscored, with
concerned....
apprehension.
for now it is time,
to masticate the elephant
and the roaring lion too.
with silver plated forks
and knifes undulled....
with use.
slap down your....
grievance
on the noritake dinnerware
and partition....
the proportion,
dissect the angst,
and delicately place,
the rage,
between your bloodless lips.
to sit ashlike on your.....
scathing tongue.
we will drink....
once more,
one last time, one sip of,
your aged bitterbile wine,
in leaden crystal goblets.
smile at your witticisms,
however, humdrum...
and malign.
and then,when the elephant,
is but ivory and leather.
and the king of beasts,
now, but a tattered rug....
upon your floor.
we shall cry....
jubilee, jubilee, cry freedom.
our indenture is finally done.
emancipation now has come.
and we will run.......
we will run.
it is then,we will be.....
looking at life,
with kaleidescope eyes.
fitted with lenses of love, joy,
and liberty, crystalized.....
within.
we will be,dancing......
the fandango,
with robust, rebellious gusto
and singing glory....
hallelujah riffs.
and o' there will be......
laughter and big broad
smiles.
and o' there will be ....
hugging
and much comfort shared.
and the door will be ...
open...
for anyone......
to come sit and chatter...
on for a while.
heaven on earth.......
heaven on earth...
Aug 22, 2014
Aug 22, 2014 at 5:14 PM UTC
To the black crystal sands,
She bound me by indenture.
Those eyes that hypnotize-
Said to siphon souls.
Forever, I sit caught,
Gazing empty - solid like stone.
Evermore, she slithers there;
Said to spellbind, her blood blinding stare.
If you appear in the ebony crystal dunes,
Know that her rounds are met with the full cresting moons!
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 6:16 PM UTC
Half the time I forget I'm a woman
Half the time I'll act the man
There is no lad out there who will treat me
Like the lady I ought to be;
And so I'm skulking like the teenage duellist
That I wrote into my stories, cruellest
In my smile and style, harsh blacks,
Harsh silvers, stinging hylauronic gloss
The only thing that reminds you that the tax
I place upon myself is a compromise from my loss.
I will fight all those scoundrels for me
Dosed up on Panic! as only I can be
"Whoa! Mona Lisa!" Aye, but catch me bare my teeth,
Catch me look at you, eyelashes poignards, like the iris underneath
The deepest blue
To remind you
I'm not entirely the goth I paint myself to be;
And tomorrow it'll change, as the black shirt'll be *****
And thrown into the wash, and I'll still try to cut a picture
In my poet's silk blouse and blood-red lipstick; I indenture
Them into this image - I'm surviving for every next coming dawn
But, yeah, I'm doing it in a style - that of the dagger drawn.
Mar 13, 2022
Mar 13, 2022 at 4:46 PM UTC
Sitting in the middle of a room
Fading in and out of focus
A flower not yet in bloom
Feeling like a head full of mucous.
Gloomy and grey colors of the walls.
Eyes closed, leaning back
I try to stand but my brain stalls.
The motor skills I now lack.
This is the final adventure
One taken in solitude
At the cause of indenture
The adventure, I now conclude.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 1:31 AM UTC
I don’t write Sonnets,
or Limerick verse
I don’t write Haiku,
though often terse
I don’t write Ballads,
or Horacian Odes
I don’t write Parables,
to self-implode
But I do write in Rhythm,
and often in Rhyme
With meaning that’s buried,
and metered in time
All verbal indenture,
I must disavow
For the meaning to rise,
—when the fates allow
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2016)
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 9:02 AM UTC
Bleak existence portrayed,
nonetheless this (baby
boomer) hybrid dreamer
oft times evocative
edenic reveries bekiss
mine psyche with pastoral trappings
evoking utopian bliss
on par with drawing
winning lottery ticket,
which fantasy I quickly dismiss,
where dolorous voices within me hiss
mocking pipe dream compensating
for unlived life hide miss
whiling away hours
of young adulthood...
this threescore aged man did blithely ****
away enraptured with Swiss
Family Robinson fantasy,
gladly exchanging tsoris
entailing breathtaking adventure
versus sequestered bookishness burr
rowed nose engrossed
with page turner capture
ring imagination of this erstwhile drifter
addressing, fixating, and keeping coiffure
as disheveled appearance, where daily
father and mother showed me the door
particularly on account, cuz for one more
nanosecond, they could not endure
this healthy sole son vaping expenditure
as both parents toiled away,
they tired trying to swallow failure
while primarily main feature
of this poem lackadaisically
exhausted as an Evansburg Park fixture
(calling squirrels on first name basis),
no sooner this bookworm gave vague gesture
after setting foot inside abode - 'pon dusk
asper whereabouts, off
into bedroom I did immure
and disappear into story
maybe one about main
character pledging indenture
role as heavy footsteps shook
324 Level Road domicile infrastructure
awaiting the wrath
of Khan spouting ultimatums
our father/son rapport long did inure
a "NON FAKE" wall not immune
to malicious, noxious, vicious... lecture
to offspring who long outwore his
Harris Tweed Scottish welcome mat,
yet... feared testing nonsecure
mooring which familiarity bred contempt!
Jan 26, 2019
Jan 26, 2019 at 12:50 PM UTC
Lost in never never land
Sand grains flow in hand
Bands flowin make a grand
Lose it in never never land
Cards in my hand never good
An ace high bluff and stand
Just to make it to dreamland
Let it roll see where the crown land
Chasin losses will never make a winner
But leavin the *** now is leavin dinner
Roll all in on eatin tonight ramen on the burner
Another gamble a little bit thinner
Every choice is a gamble for a future
Bet my soul become indenture
Lost in anothers venture
Never land better never go under
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 2:41 AM UTC