"ingratiate" poems
my mist expires in your atmosphere
linen sheets adhere
around my throat, no fear
smell pheromones in the air
it's crystal clear, my dear
i am amiss without you near
self-controlled
white-knuckle hold
now conquered
cold and longing to spy a songbird
if only for a single moment
and nothing longer
i am somber but mighty fond of her
strong enough to say it still
and stronger now to do
smart enough to ponder it here
but dumb enough to squander it too
red hearts are lies
beating blood flows blue
it is true, did you hear?
i'm amiss without you near
i thought we were musketeers
turns out you're the puppeteer
pulling my strings, was as I feared
another way to ingratiate and endear
while I'm tied here waiting to hear a footstep
to take the next step
another level for this intimate project
but from this aspect with all due disrespect
you subject me to intense neglect
you're a ****** architect speaking scintillating dialects
only I can connect but I am a bad girl... so I guess I deserve it
my favorite show now that you mention
is when you are standing at attention
you brighten your eyes and your voice changes inflection
my indiscretion becomes your intention
but I digress, and bite through, throughout this blissful rendezvous
as we float like a feather into the bedroom together
past dawn until noon
it must be true
i am amiss without you
Jul 16, 2025
Jul 16, 2025 at 11:16 AM UTC
i given nothing
i abandoned
i adopted
i dropout
i garage
i Apple
i NeXT
i Pixar
i Apple
i pilfered i
i invented i
i produced i
i market i
i retail i
i am i
i am
i
i tech beauty
i consumer fetish
i whom you love
i sleekest widgets
i Toy Story
i Macintosh
i macbook
i Lisa
iTunes
iPod
iPhone
iPad
i more
i rebel
i genius
i visionary
i entrepreneur
i world changer
i exceptionalism
i capital market hero
i bigger then business
i cool capitalism
i myth
i "the man"
i worker
i employer
i boss
i thief
i savior
i billionaire
i venerated
i vanity
i Buddhist
i prophet
i redeemed
i 1 in 300 million
i America
i sing the pathos
i am the creed
i define the ethos
i Steve Jobs
i amassed riches
i accolade crowned
i ingratiate world
i virtue
i success
i creativity
i favored
i Midas
i bedeviled
i tested
i afflicted
i retire
i human
i mortal
i succumb
i eulogized
i leave legacy of i
i am an MBA case study
i employed workers
i peddled intrepid product cycles
i subject of amusing anecdotes
i am heroic corporate folklore
i grew pods full of music
i incite kids to thumb phones
i captivate consumer imagination
i built rock solid balance sheet
i erected toxic Chinese factories
i enriched investors
i am the cool corporate brand
i inspired a million unused i apps
i hipster capitalism
i imposed my will
i insisted
i am that i am
i cannot take it with me
i leave blue jeans
i leave NB sneakers
i leave black collarless shirt
i will be asked what
i did with the time
i was given?
i did the best i could
i played the hand dealt
i parlayed it into a royal flush
i filled it up with i
i ask why
i am no more?
i leave the world
i am no more
Godspeed Beloved
Steven Paul "Steve" Jobs
(February 24, 1955 – October 5, 2011)
jbm
Oakland
10/6/11
Nov 4, 2011
Nov 4, 2011 at 10:40 PM UTC
Pain that suppresses the soul
is a pain that brings forth reality.
Where can we go when all we want and know
is dangling you over a pit a vipers.
Venom seeps through the veins
of hate as we ingratiate our will
into that of another
a brother
or a lover
the world is as I see it.
For it can be no other way.
To alter that vision is to be you
then individuality is non-existent
We may not agree on everything
and trust may be cracked
But facts are facts.
The less you know
the more you believe.
And receive these words
from a soul lost in a world
Where people are flawed
and perfection doesn't exist.
I accept you encompasses all
When you think I lie
I die inside
But the past can't be changed
I'll be alright as you so gracefully said
and stoicism is eaten on bread
The life ...
....
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 10:34 PM UTC
A trilogy of love: bared, shared, pared
Lust's shallow wave: crests, cascades, crashes
Deeper, emotive swells: rise, rumble, release
Conflicting currents form rip tide: tugging, tossing, tearing
Amor's undulating rhythms pulsate
Low tide, latent fantasies surface ego to ingratiate
High tide, a endless churning of desires our longing cannot satiate
Libidinous breakers scour lecherous bottom; a brackish foam doth emanate
In the deeper recesses of our minds, a rational connection percolates
From the depths, a heart-felt ****** rises; a growing bond initiates
Two, constant minds mutually sharing space; each hope, dream resonates
Surface tension increases; two hearts mount each obstacle, common course navigates
Nearing balmy shore, strong winds of indifference blow
Into eroding channels untested lovers unwittingly row
Selfish goals drag the unstable pair into the undertow
Corrosive fears, unmitigated doubts sever trust placing love in escrow
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 4:58 AM UTC
Singularity.
Not wanting to assimilate
No need to ingratiate or even to populate.
In the alone wearing my clothes which are home to me are these things that are known to be,
my truth.
No one but one where one can be one and one can be true to oneself.
Selfish is singular too,
another one that is one and so true.
Here on the Central line there are twenty minutes, enough time to write and more than enough time to open my eyes and be overcome by the plight of us all.
On the tube wall, Rwanda, the fate of the elephant, the panda, the children, who wills then misfortune on women and always the children who suffer.
The next stop is my stop, how lucky to get off, but the world turns slowly for some,
if time is the gun,
It
is already smoking.
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 8:03 PM UTC
On every single night, the heavens rise,
and the ages descend when your eyes dance.
You ingratiate the barren night skies,
Like a void star, befallen, left to chance.
Plight yet graceful on the adorned stage
the limitless expectation, recant.
A gift the blessing of the exquisite
soft golden glazed inquest aspiration,
And in them I witness, the perfection.
The spike that pierces, a sinister sole
a driver of unhinged unworthy worlds.
To grace it with an unhinged perfection.
The heavens have come to set, to see you.
and I arise with the night to seek you.
Apr 13, 2013
Apr 13, 2013 at 12:08 AM UTC
His name was Father Harrigan.
He was so poor at the seminary . . .
Ireland’s flagship seminary,
Erin’s last remaining seminary,
Maynooth College near Dublin,
Once a network of theological schools
Exporting priests worldwide,
Struggling today to
Produce enough priests for
The shrinking next generation of
Irish Catholics . . .
He was so poor upon
Sacrament of Holy Orders,
He accepted a first post to Argentina,
Where he met a young Pope Francis,
“The Talking Mule,” as he was
Mocked back then, back in
The student lounge,
Universidad del Salvador,
A Jesuit institution,
Buenos Aires.
But I digress.
Father Harrigan made friends easily.
It wasn’t too long before
He had his choice assignment—
His coveted next assignment--
North America--specifically the
Boston Archdiocese,
For any ***** Irishman
A land of carnal opportunity &
Never Ending Corn Beef
& Cabbage Bowl®,
($Ka-Ching! Finally making poetry pay!$)
The Olive Garden.
Southie was where it all got
Started in 5th Grade, Elementary,
Our Lady of Tipperary, the
Spring talent show.
His mother convinced him to sing
One of George M. Cohan’s tune, i.e.
A tune by His Eminence
“Yankee Doodle Dandy,”
A song called "Harrigan."
**“H, A, Double-R-I, G-A-N spells Harrigan,
Proud of all the Irish blood that's in me . . .”**
What better way to ingratiate
Himself to his parish,
Or his parish priest to his family?
Father Seamus Harrigan:
Built like John Candy, RIP.
A fat Irish slob,
A captive of his appetites,
Including one for boys.
That guy should be given
Kennedy Center Honors, for
Giving the gift that keeps on giving:
That first exquisite *******
Which in subsequent years
Defined my taste for women
Capable of perfection.
May 17, 2015
May 17, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
I was just the summer to you.
Just the easy bloom and
the easy blue and
easy heat.
I was only the flowers that
opened to you
as you walked, a light sundress,
delicately, tenderly,
the grace of your thighs
warmly anticipating
the tender youth full
brightening day.
I was
the colors sidling nicely
in flitting spots along
the periphery of living life
like lavender, cerise, and
cerulean smiles
blushing,
the dripping
geraniums and chamomile
sprinkling you with
fondness, that
dote upon you
adoringly
and would even
ingratiate themselves for you.
I was the kiss only of
a sensible sunlight, the
embrace of a
quick breeze, and
your pleasant thought
of your legs
knee-deep in your ocean’s
cupped hands
to cool for a day
your flushed skin
in turquoise, swirling coolly
salt fresh.
Will someone be
your four seasons ever?
Will someone be
the cold silence too,
of a winter that can keep you
staring lucid and glazed by
a fire?
Will someone be
the frost
that nips your skin to remind you of
the fire
in your own skin?
Will someone ever be
the color of fallen
leaves spread over a
hidden field like
a hidden retreat
of dreaming flowers
before waking
ever?
Or the snow
before it releases
itself
as moving water
resting
upon the yearning bud
before it
releases from itself
promise
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 6:59 PM UTC
The docile cork passes us by
as we struggle between the waves
torn between moon and sun
drawn out to open waters
followed by megalodons of our world
viewed by haughty fishermen
plummeting below the frothy waters
spun around in vertical vertices
turbulence taking hold
crushing pressure pulling down
the light above fades
red hands start to turn blue
lips start to tremble
bubbles trickle
up up up
a presence appears, I am not alone
a dolphins beak nudges me gently
the eyes ingratiate my being
I feel my breathing ease
my lungs now as one within the space
tension around my head is released
audacious colours are diverse
the motion of the water provides comfort
the dolphin fills my being
at one the boundaries of sanity are established
I power for the surface in confidence
the water erupts
suspended in air folds
I bark in delight
freedom
fingers drill into my soft tissues
my breath is warm amongst the towelling
toes and fingers tingle
my nose walks through the lavender field
drifting banks of pollen powder my bare back
carefree, what a great time to live
the door closes
I enter my world again
same time next week
Jul 7, 2020
Jul 7, 2020 at 12:25 PM UTC
In the shadows of the night
Rendered unconscious to the lies
When will the time come
That you end your false cries,
As I turn my back to you
Walking amidst the shoreline
Linked in bounds of your trickery
Firstly, I was blind, now I decline,
Another chance for you
To present your penance
If what you've done was a crime
You'd serve a sure life sentence,
In the chambers of my body
My high energies have lain fallow
You stare upon me as a fresh face
Yet in mine eyes, a face of sallow,
That's what you have shown me
Within this much wasted time
You've spoken lie upon lie
The tub of your brain stains grime,
So please, step away please
You may end your saddening try...
There you stand on your stone
Your howl echoes, I hear your cry,
That's all you manage to do
Toying with my mind
You always cry, you always cry
I was lost to think you were kind,
I no longer carry the weight
Of the burden you put on me
Your games and trials to ingratiate
Will fail ms, you will now see,
So do what you do best
Howl at the moonlight
Your chances with me has ended
Now please flee from my sight...
© Michael P. Smith
Apr 4, 2013
Apr 4, 2013 at 11:23 PM UTC
(WARNING: some of you may not find this to your taste)
SONG of the ROYAL FOOD-TASTER
It’s always feast day
at the Court of King Eatmore
and Queen Yumyum
Bring it on, dish after dish -
anything that’s Meat, we’ll eat
When I arrived at Court
from my far-off village
I was but skin and bones
Now as Trusted Royal Taster
I am as big as Her Majesty’s –
Burp! – ****
SONG of the ROYAL JESTER
Bring it on
anything that moves
We’ll spike it through
for the spit -
with the spike through the mouth
and coming out the other end
For what is man and woman
King and Queen
but a mouth open
and a releasing rear?
CHORUS
Oh let us eat, eat, eat
drink and sate and ingratiate
We love
anything that crawls or creeps
or flies or moves
We can crunch and munch and digest
and add to our folds and waves -
for the World-sized King he said:
*“Bring it IN! Something local,
anything Exotic! Bring it IN!”*
And the Immense Queen she screamed:
*“Cream! Cream! Cream! More Cream
and Oil on my Pig’s Head!”*
SONG of the ROYAL JESTER
Ah, for what else did Nature fashion
life to be? – one way in and one way out
and lots to retain
Humanity is but a mouth and an ****
connected well in an ever-emptying barrel
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
I am Indian by birthright,
Simply black when it feels right,
A gender champion through and through,
A Southern Belle from the Bayou.
I cover all the bases from Gay rights to MeToo,
Environmental warriors – I’ll always stand with you.
Black lives truly matter, the Homeless my pet task,
All you need is Me, you don’t even need to ask.
Show me any audience and I'll immediately relate,
Where's the very harm to myself Ingratiate;
They say my laughs a cackle, but that's blatantly untrue,
It's simply Inner-me, reaching out to Outer-you.
As to championing Hamas, that's nothing but a slur,
The fact my husband's Jewish should that thought conclusively deter,
Same deal with loving felons, what will they dream up next,
That I'm a prosecutor who's never read the text?
On drugs and immigration, they titled me the Tsar,
I never asked for that as our Border is too far,
I'd rather spend my days engaging our core base,
Cajoling them to spend for this pivotal new race.
Vance calls me a Chameleon, Trump's confused by who I am,
They'll figure soon enough the cunning of this femme,
The more I keep them guessing, the less prepared they'll be,
When finally I pounce, then they'll twig who's truly me.
I've got the Party pliant, putty in my hands,
Celebrities galore, like shiny rubber bands;
Money pouring in, donors by the score,
All the worthwhile Media gushing it's Kamala they adore.
As to any policies, I don't stay up at nights,
Why worry when my bag holds Reproductive rights;
C'mon Donald, admit you’ve badly lost,
I'm the future President and you’ll be simply Toast.
Aug 2, 2024
Aug 2, 2024 at 3:41 PM UTC
...At this evening nigh-tide, reptilian
brain bites back instinctively.
I am forgiven in all Houses...all postulations
bloat these blue veins.
Daguerreotype pictures cake their ashen
backdrop, that assures the comely smile
of cosmic forbearance.
As if these lips would dematerialize in search
of utterance.
Not for the entrained speakeasy of spotlit
here and now...but the energetic pulse tugged
at both ends of tongue.
The final straw struck back, to ingratiate the
greatest of pilgrimages.
Feb 19, 2016
Feb 19, 2016 at 11:11 AM UTC
Spare me these love powers,
Thy covert torture,
In discreet shelters,
Wait no more,
I can’t walk nor run,
To ingratiate myself as before,
My child in company,
Is having fun,
Round and round the sun
Or is it his shadow?
Lingering, out of breath,
Like the before to be mown meadow,
Lushly, leaning to the morning breeze,
Swaying with a subtle motive,
A plenty of desire to live,
Before death,
Where art thou child?
So delicate and mild,
Lost among flowers
So bright and wild,
Yellow, pink and red,
Splinters of your bed,
Laughter and gestures,
Have I lost my sight?
Or art the eyes deceived by light?
We shall not return tonight;
Memories of the dead or the Blind,
That is insinuating visions for a widow,
who is waiting the true return
Of her old man and toddler.
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
Beseech, but do not implore.
Bequeath, but do not beget.
Harrow the heroes,
and christen the crestfallen.
Hark, for the deaf may speak riddles elucidating truth.
Ingratiate insolence, and admire innocence,
thus, the world will be yours,
as you will conciliate with its inhabitants.
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 12:07 AM UTC
Spoken gravitas,
words only ever to be heard once.
Nothing endures forever and so it goes.
A Secret alphabet developed by two.
A voice that carries warmth, raises a smile and lives to perpetually remind us of the moment(s).
Desires queued and ready to wither.
A language derived from the stolen warmth off of my fingers.
To become the unfamiliar, familiar.
To love madly under the autumn moon,
and lose all reason.
To ingratiate the self, is a desert never to walk out of again.
Oct 19, 2019
Oct 19, 2019 at 8:04 PM UTC