"ingrate" poems
Still running, never ceasing, she screams silently.
the breath escapes as a wisp.
Remembering the past command:
Take the demon carefully,
his sting is heavily laden with sweet
addiction.
*** soaks through the front of her gown
and the bloodied fabrics drain rusty shades
into the tepid moon water
she spilled before.
Break her chains
she will not thank you
she will despise her freedom and lay waste to paradise
with her filthy torn wings.
Let her know of her once-natural beauty
she will hiss in derision
that she is not still stunning as the rose.
BLEED, child.
You of all creatures were fantastic in visage
You have put to waste the precious fragility of your frame
Your yellowing teeth speak volumes
your mouth should stay sealed.
We have no use for ingrate angels
that roll in the muck
cheaply selling ******* and chemical highs.
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 1:58 PM UTC
I have just spent one-hour-and-a-half
handicapping tomorrow's
card.
when am I going to get at the poems?
well, they'll just have to wait
they'll have to warm their feet in the
anteroom
where they'll sit gossiping about
me.
"this Chinaski, doesn't he realize that
without us he would have long ago
gone mad, been dead?"
"he knows, but he thinks he can keep
us at his beck and call!"
"he's an ingrate!"
"let's give him writer's block!"
"yeah!"
"yeah!"
"yeah!"
the little poems kick up their heels
and laugh.
then the biggest one gets up and
walks toward the door.
"hey, where are you going?" he is
asked.
"somewhere where I am
appreciated."
then, he
and the others
vanish.
I open a beer, sit down at the
machine and nothing
happens.
like now.
from the 1997 Black Sparrow New Year's greeting, "A New War"
4.3k
I take it by the tears dripping
That a fragile heart is breaking
The burden of regrets written on your face
Tells me your soul's another empty place
Right to think the worst of me,I'm an ingrate
I felt it in your cuddle which was rather cold
Didn't think it'd hurt less truth to be told
I just thought you would understand
How and why I took that stand
I'm bleeding too watching you exit my story
I love you but I do her more,I'm so sorry
I'm sorry that I let you explore so deep
Thought I had control over my heart
I don't know when I lost that grip
Out walks another victim of my hurt
The one that got away is too deep a first cut
I thought I had finally cracked the nut
Don't become me, let you time heal
Forgive me, none deserves the pain you feel
Apr 6, 2015
Apr 6, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
mostly undiagnosed ghosts host coast roasts
and no one shows
haunted wind blows going slow
dethroning grown men being sown
unknown gnomes debone stones
throwing plumbs at scrub jays
whilst listless fitness ****** insist
on resisting mystic visions
implicitly –
ragtag gag gifts for bags
smoking **** with saggy pants
chancing protagonists
and prancing fisters
wrist rocket **** pocket
time, clock it
rock it sock it
don’t mock
interlocking bicarbonates
wait for the ingrate to **********
and regulate the regurgitation –
****** ancestrally protestors
digest their disgust
discussing muskrats as lab cats
basking in the glow of white coats –
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
You never
thought I'd
say never.
Get Clever.
**** a sickle from the star,
fuckin' stick it in a cross.
Pissin' vinegar, I'm hot.
I don't dance a lot.
Pull it it back
like a bow,
you'll never know
what I'm talking about,
I'll just throw
my paint at
the canvas, let it
work itself out.
Pucker up and tuck
it in. **** it up
and bless your sin.
Keep the privileged in their place
and keep the simple in their space,
there is no common you can't erase.
Too many
fuckin' problems,
you wish
you
could
fuckin' solve 'em.
Too much hate?
Your heart
has never had
to participate.
Fuckin' lonely?
You've got
too much
on your plate.
Reciprocate.
The surface,
the focus,
I'm sure of all of this.
Get clever.
In all seriousness,
I hate to say it's not an art that's improvised, it's more like you camp out, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking, eating, waiting, sitting, wishing, thinking. Praying like **** for the the snare that you set up in an half assed attempt, like always, ******* hoping it comes through for you. Pathetic isn't it?
I've got too many ideas and as these dimwits stare at the bright light behind me I get sadder.
You're probably getting madder, like I'm a ******* ingrate, It's not too late to call me out because I've just begun my tirade.
Unreadable, I know.
If you made it this far I've got to say, you are completely frivolous, and forlorn;
for that I salute you, and realizing this is all in bad taste, I bid you goodnight.
**** that was fast. Didn't even get to what I meant to.
Jul 31, 2011
Jul 31, 2011 at 9:49 AM UTC
I bought a ticket
For a friend;
Do I really
Want him to win.
Is this what one
Calls a sin?
Venial, mortal,
Let's crank it up a notch.
Let's involve the cops,
Or the color of your skin.
Is this what one
Calls sin?
Cardinal, deadly.
Let's raise the ante.
Say you're near the body
Lying on the floor,
The evidence is clear,
You're the next of kin.
Is this what one
Calls sin?
Wherein is the sin?
My friend kept all the winnings.
Cops are on the take.
Our brother's in the gutter,
Our confession came too late.
Our sins are mere mistakes:
At worst call me ingrate.
Jul 16, 2015
Jul 16, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation
If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation
An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation
Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes
The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes
Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time
Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
-----
---
-
This isn't about being numbed,
or blinded....and most definitely
not being an ingrate.
an eerie feeling came with a breeze:
a life of long ago
came back......and lingered,
fed my hungry mind with
resurrected difficult moments.
there were tears.....and laughter,
our feelings, our heartbeats were heard,
we had that kind of warmth...a nearness
only we, could possess.
t'was like brewing coffee....waiting,
'til bubbles started seething,
aroma and taste were satisfying,
steam...evaporating.
what remained in the carafe
got cold...became stale and rough
to the mouth.
confused heart,
refused to fall apart.
how hard it had been at the start,
our kites flew high
so did our sighs.
how could expected changes,
how could progress be trailed by an emptiness?
why did i hear a pricking whisper of discontent?
plans didn't stop........i thought,
half the ladder was high enough.
:::::::::
somewhere along the way
....why did love have to stray?
a smoke of displeasure
took a long while...to disappear
:::::
in those times of simple dreams,
our humble needs and wants did scream
some days may have been dim,
still................we were a team.
...i miss...those hungry years...
-----
---
-
Sally
© Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
April 1, 2018
Apr 5, 2018
Apr 5, 2018 at 1:33 AM UTC
“She cannot live forever!”
We told each other more than once.
Still, she had all the Deutschmarks
and to her I was a dunce..
My wife and I were servant/slaves
to her every wish and whim.
It was just after the Armistice
that she ”allowed” us move in.
Germany was a hungry place
As Weimar came into being
What happened after Wilhelm fled,
few could claim to have foreseen.
No, she never spoiled us,
her grandson and his mate.
I cut wood, my wife drew water
For that shriveled old ingrate.
Other than a pittance
and an attic bed of straw
she gave neither thanks nor praise
to her only heirs at law.
Thank Gott, the morning finally dawned
we didn’t hear her ring her bell.
In sleep she had departed
to Heaven or , likely, Hell.
We hugged each other gleefully.
Our servitude was done.
We were rich with Deutschmarks!
The year was Nineteen twenty one.
Jun 16, 2013
Jun 16, 2013 at 11:33 AM UTC
LET ME LOVE YOU AGAIN....
My candy I'm back ,
Back to clinch your heart,
I'm not here to hurt.
I'm here to ask for second best chance,
I know I was a ****
But now back with a full force,
It was wrong to abayence,
This time I promise I will be the best,
Let me love you again,
Promise I will not bring pain,
I know I was a ingrate of your love,
I'm noisome that love again I still believe,
Please allow me to love you again,
Just let us regain,
Let me be yours again,
My sweetie pie let me love you again,
I messed up in the past,
Best this time I wont ,
Your soul will rest on my chest,
I roar like an eagle pardon ,
This time I will make you reach ******
I temperature will change to max,
oops I'm not telling a lie ,
You are my Quiescent,
Oh recall I'm not Ephemeral,
You can see how phenomenal,
My I Singh hallelujah,
Please let me love you again,
I don't feel Felicity without you,
My sweet cany let me love you,
Yeah just know I mean everything,
I'm losing my breath I'm becoming nothing,
Let me Let me I promise,
Please my sweet mayonnaise ,
Just one last kick ,
I will make it useful,
I can tell you still want me,
So please give it to me,
I'm telling you this time,
You are my fame,
Ish just hate that feeling of being lonely,
My my butterfly,
Please please let me,
All I'm asking for is your love again,
I'm not acting like Saint,
But promise to give you my love,
Just let me let me,
Let me love you again..
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 7:08 PM UTC
chants from red states and blue
and of course the tea partied new
blend into wicked white noise
and with complete lack of poise
we have become a nation divided
not that we were ever truly united
but our rhetoric is now so blighted
that whenever we open our ears
we are inundated with feculent fears
that our country is no longer grand
perhaps we were never number one...
except in matters of money and the gun
but when measured by the yardstick of the soul
did we ever really achieve a transcendent goal
or were we listening to our own lyrical lies?
‘twas not enough to denigrate
-those of foreign birth
-those of color
and the welfare ingrate
now we all chew and spew equal portions of hate
and probably deserve our feckless fate
Sep 14, 2012
Sep 14, 2012 at 10:58 PM UTC
*Drink your Hemlock down
as you've doled your poison out tenfold
choke on your own ignorant arrogance
and grandiose excuse for self worth
your filthy lies caught up with you before Heaven's gate
Angels snagged your ***** *** before it was too late
now burn in Hell you lecherous, hostile ingrate*
CHEERS
Oct 11, 2013
Oct 11, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
My sword slowly lifted itself as something within came to life
Striking my pallet leaving you my victim lifeless with a long seeping wound
Trying to keep up with this constant strife
Fighting to escape this brutality that has forever bond
My bloodied blade has spilled enough of your precious essence
Realizing now that you were never meant to be mine
Alas how my feelings could have manifested me into this darkened presence?
Whilst my words shall only lead you to further pine
Tearing from my being the thought of loving you at all,
As injustice is all that is felt from the illusions you drew on the wall.
Solace has been a price my future had to pay
For so was the price of your love, that cast me away
Contorted and mangled by the past that thrives within my ingrate
A second chance you wish won’t now sate my hate
Jun 16, 2010
Jun 16, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC
possible that the rock on rails
will express me from a fail
intimate wants satisfied
or is to mistake I ride
hold on close
see me through
misty eyes
memories flood to wash away
just what I did to you today
taken in taken for a ride
ingrate you stood beside
hold on close
see me through
misty eyes
rivulets run and clear the pane
on that platform you remain
train pulls the wheels slide
not ashamed I lied
hold on close
see me through
misty eyes
Dec 19, 2016
Dec 19, 2016 at 4:33 PM UTC
I am a boy who doesn't know the worth of a dollar
I play my part.
I am a friend who is there for his even if they don't know
I play my part.
I am a lover who knows how to lift your spirt even when the love is only shared by me
I play my part.
I am a console to those who think they are alone
I play my part.
I am an ingrate who doesn't appreciate the sacrifices you have made
I play my part.
I am a smile that hides the sadness on the other side
I play my part.
I am the one who listens even when no words are spoken
I play my part.
I am a hypocrite who preaches but rarely practices
I play my part.
I know what I want and never what I need
I play my part.
I am who I am so no one can say I am worthless because,
I play my part.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 5:07 PM UTC
today i bruised an apple,
i split him to his core.
all he wanted was to nourish me
and nothing more.
once a fragrant flower
fitted in a white bouquet,
he chose to be support for me,
and i cast him away.
Feb 1, 2011
Feb 1, 2011 at 3:30 PM UTC
The ****** lay down,
As the untouched stream
Ran through her untouched skin.
Mountains grew like ruptures,
Imperfections, grainy tissue.
Leaves sprung up like parasites,
Clinging to dear life.
And she remained unmoved.
She remained harmonious.
Harmonious with the sudden
Obstructions that became
Carved, engraved, furrowed
Onto her pure surface.
And with sudden violence,
Her skin was ruptured,
Manipulated, ruffled.
Her once untouched earth,
Was dug out, strained,
And left out to the
Corrosion of the winds.
It was them, those parasites.
The ingrate life, that took
Advantage.
The animals that built,
Constructed, and cultivated.
Those that formed values.
Rules in the midst of chaos.
And she remained unmoved,
She remained content,
Content with the sudden
Colonies, civilizations,
That sprung up like
Dead may flies in spring.
But then, they brought up
Disease. They brought up
War, Poverty, Filth.
They broke those values,
Like paper chains.
And irrigated her earth,
With pools of blood.
And she remained still.
She remained petrified.
Petrified with that
That developed, unraveled,
Birthed, and destroyed,
On top of her.
She lay down as her skin,
Once fertile became sand.
Her rivers ceased to stream,
And dried up like cherries
Under the heated sun.
And the mountains crumbled,
And the leaves withered.
She lay down as the
Colonies collapsed, and
The civilizations were left
Abandoned, forgotten.
She lay down as the
Parasites retreated,
Died, and disintegrated.
And she remained crippled,
Battered, mutilated,
But standing still.
Not untouched, but proud,
Not intact, but standing.
Alone, but at peace at last.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 1:41 PM UTC
Rantings II
don't wanna sound like an ingrate,
but what have you done for me today
you promised me this magnificent dinner,
then threw a box of macaroni my way
you promised me an evening of hot lovin,
you would wear me out and bring me lots of beer
then when I leaned over to kiss you,
you handed me a ******* and said, here
suddenly you were no longer in the mood,
you had a headache and cramps were here too
I asked how could this have happened so soon,
all you could say to me was “hey **** you”
all thru the rest of the night all you did was *****
I tried to hide from you in the corner of my den
but you even followed me in there, raising a fuss,
said how can you live like this, in this dam pig pen
I looked around at my guitars and my laptop,
had all my music books stacked up real nice
well yes, there were some candy wrappers,
and a day old bowl of pudding made from rice
you said I was totally useless, a useless **** in fact,
I coward even deeper now, as you told me I was dumb
how in the hell could you ever have married me,
I rolled into the fetal pose, ******* on my thumb
2 days later I arose, with stubble on my face,
I stumble into the john, and into the mirror I stared
it seemed to take forever for the focus of my eyes,
I jumped back in horror, the picture made me scared
holy crap, what was that, I heard my voice crackle,
sounding like a rusty gate, WD40 should be used
and when I took a second look, afraid what I would see,
sunken in and swollen, looked like my eyes were bruised
today is gonna be a different day, this is my intention,
going to shower, shave and put on my poet's hat
it is so quiet now, think she has packed and left
gonna miss her a lot, hope she took her ******* cat
Gomer LePoet...
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 4:05 AM UTC
Dear Ed.
You'll have to forgive me if I
stop favoriting most of your work. It's all spectacular,
and if good poems were gravy,
I'd need more bread.
And a bucket.
But you see,
33 years ago, despite my uncontainable appreciation
for the many high school graduation checks,
I broke me sense of gratitude
while handwriting out scores of "thank you notes.”
Now, I’m unable to offer even the slightest compliment
with these ungrateful fingers.
So forgive me, if I'm hard-pressed
to as much as click a “heart”
or a “thumbs up” button;
for even one more of your upgrades to the Holy Grail.
And don’t bother clicking my stuff. There are no more
thank-you fish in Walden pond;
I’m ingrate enough for the both of us.
Just know
as my mouse goes quiet, your **** is **** good.
**** good.
"And that goes for the rest of you
poems."
Sep 16, 2014
Sep 16, 2014 at 6:37 PM UTC
Élégie au Mont « La Sposata»
Comme un cheval fougueux
Tu chevauches les pierres
De ta montagne de granit.
Tu domines le «Liamone».
Et portes jusqu’à l’horizon
Cette grandeur altière
Qui est ton sceau de chevalier.
La mariée ingrate
Ayant laissé sa mère, sans un regard
Fut transformée ici
En monture de pierre.
Mais par sa révolte, toujours indomptée
Elle continue d’harnacher, la nuit,
des chimères de feu et son rêve de fuite.
Oh, montagnes sacrées
Témoins de tant d’effrois
Et de tant d’invasions,
D’où les conques soufflaient
Leurs cris stridents de guerre
Pour porter **** l’alarme
Quand l’aigle voyait les chèvres dévaler
Oh, montagnes sacrées
Qui virent tant d’étés
Enflammer l’horizon
Et calciner les pins
Ou l’eau glacée des sources
N’apaise pas les soifs de pureté
Et ou les merles et les geais
Tiennent commun concert
Paul Arrighi , écrit en Corse au mois d'août
Mar 19, 2014
Mar 19, 2014 at 3:23 PM UTC
The ingrate is chewing on his ungrateful cud
But he isn't a liberty to say what's in it
He spits fire at social drinkers
And goes slow mo in the fast lane
Just to **** off those he considers wastes of life
He'd curse them out but that be a wasted breath
The milk maid's dunlap is protruding
But she doesn't give 1/16th of a ****
Or 1/4th of a ****
She has gunk in her teeth
But all the ***** ***** old men are all aboard The Desperate Express
The polygamist is off to the races
Then the roller rink to inject misinformation into the grapevine
He gallantly gives his consent to take a lie detector test
As they try to get past his veneer and get a confession compromised of cul-de-sac secrets
With their monocle and chronic swamp-ass they contracted while waiting on line at the concession stand
The spy's identity will not be compromised
He needs to investigate this world's nation wide arms race to the red button that will undoubtedly end us all
That's why hes undercover in the vineyard
His beliefs correspond with mine
He thinks the planet will be fine but its inhabitants are doomed
And I concur
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
Mélancolie est au fond de mon cœur ;
De chants joyeux n'ai pas la fantaisie ;
Plaintes, soupirs, accents de la douleur,
Voilà les chants de la mélancolie.
Cesse, ô ma voix ! cesse de soupirer
Chanson d'amour où peignais mon martyre :
À d'autres vers j'ai vu Daphné sourire.
Tais-toi, ma lyre ! Ah ! laisse-moi pleurer !
Plus ne prétends en langage des dieux
Chanter Daphné, chanter ma vive flamme :
Chanson d'amour irait jusqu'à ses yeux ;
Chanson d'amour n'irait plus à son âme.
Hier encor l'entendais assurer
Qu'un seul berger faisait chanson jolie :
C'est mon rival. Toi, que l'ingrate oublie,
Tais-toi, ma lyre ! Ah ! laisse-moi pleurer !
Si bien sentir vaut mieux que bien chanter,
Si bien aimer vaut mieux que bien le dire,
Las ! mieux que moi pouvait-on mériter
Le seul suffrage auquel ma muse aspire ?
Mais nouveauté, je le veux déclarer,
Séduit souvent la plus sage bergère.
Puisque Daphné comme une autre est légère,
Tais-toi, ma lyre ! Ah ! laisse-moi pleurer !
Quoi, vous allez la chercher malgré moi,
Vers indiscrets, enfants de jalousie !
Daphné vous lit : dieux ! quel est mon effroi !
Daphné sourit : dieux ! ma peine est finie !
Plus la douleur ne me doit tourmenter ;
À mon rival retournez, ma tristesse.
Mes vers encor plairaient à ma maîtresse ?
Tais-toi, chagrin ! Ah ! laisse-moi chanter !
Écrit en 1789.
880
Good god son.
Looking straight at feet never got no one no where in this world
Son, can you imagine?
What it’s like to be passed over for shoe leather?
To have eyes, arms, legs, knees, all ignored?
Ignored for an inanimate object with a pleasant scent but nothing more
Salt water and leather.
Or son.
Can you begin to imagine what it’s like to melt?
What it’s like to fold in a too large chair
Staring straight ahead
At a screen
Flashing colors/lights
Sliding into and out of semblances and meanings
Hands searching and
not finding.
And son, your knees jutting out like jetties among the foam
Crossing right over left over left over right
Cool air lifting up hairs like shocks, but god son.
You must look at them.
And son could you ever imagine?
How deep a chair can feel
When you know the folding’s real
And the water isn’t still for any lack of menace
Oh god!
How the screams will peal.
But son, I hope you’ve guessed that from under the refracting and refracted water
That cuts the light up so beautifully
From under that water you’ll never see bottom.
And son, my love, this is vital
What they say about screams in space is true.
I know you’re a child, kid, but think, really think on this one,
How’s it got to taste?
Fed nothing
But expecting much
Can you conceive of the empty imperial dry rot
Upon which, believe this if anything, the sun never sets
And child, it tastes like carrion.
When the chair starts its own folding in.
Holy Lord in Heaven, my beloved son, when the sea foam green monoliths roll in with the moon.
They **** against the wood legs of the jetty
The feet, and knees too,
Those that are foundationed in the sand and bound up with the shoe leather
That you,
My ingrate son,
Cannot seem to ignore
Oct 8, 2010
Oct 8, 2010 at 2:19 PM UTC