"initiatives" poems
/ beelzebub
*(given employs the spider a posteriori
and spiderweb a priori, and then back
into a bicemeral reverse psyche-analogy -
the id est contra the id erat -
but there is no latin revival -
given that the latin encoding has been
translated into a.i. algorithms...
forget putting the pandora
into a box into a box into a box,
into an etc. or what is a russian
cultural artefact... forget it...
a black fly would not take upon
itself to make a dustbin, a *******
maggoty brothel, like a green bottle fly
might... black flies have character,
style...
they're the ones that take
to tango, with spider architecture,
akin to the theological spider analogy
about an ad infinitum a priori argument)*:
a bit like watching
a black fly - "washing" itself -
rubbing it's front limbs
together, "attempting"
to start a fire...
god, those awful
green bottle hypers -
with maggot excesses -
in a potential well
expressed into practice -
black flies?
i can entertain them -
like i might entertain spiders
that do not require aquariums -
the non-exotica types...
so i sometimes find myself
rubbing my hands together,
like a catholic amounting
to an altruistic prayer symbolism...
so kommen faust,
so kommen faust,
so ist pseudo-faust -
or rather:
england?
deutschland jr.
america?
deutschland sr.
and if that wasn't the case?
oh me, little old slavic
babuшka...
i still can't explain rubbing
my hands together,
like a black fly might...
keeping standards of where
to take a maggoty dump's
worth of procreation value...
black flies?
compared to the others?
the priests of the whole
spectrum...
i sometimes wish they were
red,
so i could call them: the cardinals...
alas...
not to be, god said otherwise...
but i can fathom the priesthood,
like i can fathom -
an aspiration of a sleeping
samurai, devoid of the zodiac
delusion,
encouraged to make
chiromancy initiatives
(readings) to alleviate,
******** monotheism.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 11:02 AM UTC
Dear, let me tenderize you like meat slap the silliness from heat bubbling bubbling bubbling to a boil.
Dear, let me technically arouse you by letting each word escape like exasperation, a depletion of the senses as every finger or pressure point examines your body from head-to-toe.
Dear, let me be no longer ashamed to touch or hold you close, let our breathing and beating submerge into higher thinking.
Incinerating flames that lick the grate.
Dear, let me dive deep into the crevice of your brain, all mushy grey matter, all the same.
Dear, let me slice it open and **** out all the juices, licking licking licking each curve and crevice,
My supple pink snake-like tongue reaching deeper deeper deeper into your mind.
Dear, let me sink into your reality, bit by bit, and piece by piece until cohesiveness lays its eggs inside the deep hole within you.
Dear, let me scratch the surface, trading dimes for dust and pecs for fluff.
Let me swim in the depths of your hectic personality.
Let me get to know you and all your originality.
Let me breathe in your values and slurp up your mature decisions.
Let me caress your life like two bulbous lights that hang from the existence of time.
Let me illuminate you, serenade you, quiz you while ********* your sense of self-esteem.
Dear, let me dream your dreams.
Dear, let me sink my ***** mind games into your wet social brain.
Don’t let the pressure get to you.
Passion may play a key part in the sway!
Let me suckle your sweet thoughts, play with your deriving initiatives.
Let me hold your ideas in the sweat of my thighs, burning with desire to see myself through cobalt eyes.
Let me feel the hot ***** of your ethical intentions and clear apparitions.
Let me analyze your prerogatives and **** with your distribution methods.
Dear, let me fiddle with your political views, (in the “other room”) and tickle your soft solutions on creating a world of doom.
Let me ****** your sustainability, flirt with your progressive mindset, and squeeze your plump ambitions until they burst!
Dear, let me push gently on your sensitive issues with your parents until they become less apparent.
Let me stroke your disagreements with foreign policy until they shriek with mercy!
Let me take you further and touch your blind senses to a pink paranoia of retentive defensive pretenses.
Let me cuddle and snuggle your sense of self-worth and pleasure your brain with mind-bending words.
Dear, let me dance with your intelligence
until we sink into oblivious mind-sex bliss…….
Nov 7, 2015
Nov 7, 2015 at 11:31 AM UTC
Extra Initiative! what is this Extra Initiative?
Is it a hype, or is it something positive? ?
How it is written, I am bit tentative?
Is it X-tra initiative or Extra initiative?
Explain me clearly what does it mean.?
So that, taking some steps in that direction I can be seen.
Wherever I go this word is buzzing
that much worth should be given? , or they are fussing?
Despite all my efforts my career is in frost
can it give my career the required ****** ?
What if more importance is given to xtra initiatives than the real thing.
what if they ignore the process and xtra initiatives is piled to make a bing.
what will be its impact on Process negative or positive.
Not sure, but this poem can be taken as my extra initiative.
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 12:50 PM UTC
all things green are not created equal,
what brings mean hearts a revival,
the green that some die for,
the green the mint strives for,
there are no green initiatives, only a green economy
there is no interest, that will starve the old, their bank
cupboards bare, soon they will eat their own flesh.
they ayes may have it everywhere so be aware, watch your step there
the green that binds our hands,
binds our feet, binds our minds,
bind us together in defeat.
this may sound like a call but really it is one voice with a bad echo,
bouncing off the walls of misappropriation and missed understandings
stewardship is taking care of what was given, (not earned)
he who made stewards of us is going to call (out our names)
to find what we did with the Terra entrusted with us (what a rush)
embracing the wrong green blinds us as it binds us to a rocky
spire, that double edge blade hacking at the legs of God's footstool.
the light talk about saving a planet, ****** Janet, what fool's
we have been, we blame colour blindness for corporate greed,
oh the
green that bind us
to every wrong to which we own,
will now cost us the best spot closest to the throne.
Aug 31, 2013
Aug 31, 2013 at 2:19 AM UTC
Hidden in the grey morass out there amidst your workforce
Are Pearls in a lattice work of intricate disguise.
Gems of enlightenment and soldiers of conscience
Who battle with adversities’ regressive, shut eyes.
Clad in the rigging of everyday costume
Hidden to all but the discerning few,
Seeing the gold of the extra steps taken,
And observing initiatives made there for you.
Gold in the form of an everyday worker
One who excels far above average way,
Unrewarded and unacknowledged
Responsibly shouldering this all in his day.
Towering over the mass mediocrity
Holding the strands of a mess of loose ends,
Always dependable, doggedly purposeful
Easily marked as definitive friend.
Driven by his own hard volition
In striving for that extra won mile,
True champion of mans’ Endeavour
Unheralded in his own low profile.
The movers and the shakers all
Fly their flags of self acclaim
But the Pearls of the Unobvious
Shall be this nations’ future fame.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
24 November 2010
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 2:44 PM UTC
Adieu chère maison de mes ancêtres
Cette fois ci, le sort en est jeté,
Les acquéreurs improbables, les propriétaires chimériques,
ont consigne la somme convenue sur les fonds du notaire.
Et toi, chère maison, tu vas changer de famille et d'amours.
Désormais, nos enfances envolées, ne retrouveront plus le secours,
des vielles boiseries et des tapisseries centenaires,
de toutes ces armoire en châtaignier et ces commodes de noyer,
auxquels nous rattache encor comme un fil invisible,
tant de senteurs, d'images et souvenirs fanés.
Et le tic-tac mélodieux de la vieille horloge dans l'entrée du 19.
Et ces mansardes, chargées d'objets hétéroclites que nous aimons tant fouiller.
Quant au jardin qui aurait pu être un parc,
comment oublier ses massifs de groseilliers et ses fraises des bois ?
Et les plants de rhubarbe, la sauge aux grandes vertus, aux dires de grand-mère.
Ainsi que les allées de marguerites, attirant les abeilles,
plus **** remplacées par des rosiers blancs, roses et rouges si odorants.
Cette maison de famille qui résista a tant de coups du sort,
a péri des impôts et des frais d'entretien du jardin,
du manque de modernisation aussi. Alors que tant de logements sans âme étaient construits.
Surtout de l'âge et du départ de sa chère maîtresse, ma mère, qui y avait trop froid et ne pouvait y vivre seule.
Et aussi un peu, ma franchise l'admet, du manque d'initiatives et de goût pour l'association de nous tous, de notre fratrie.
Certes l'on pourra trouver bien des excuses.
Les uns furent trop **** les autres manquèrent de moyens.
Mais dans mon fors intérieur,
Je sais que cette maison manqua surtout de notre audace et de notre courage commun a la faire vivre.
Aussi notre maison de famille fut comme abandonnée a son sort par ses enfants disperses par la vie.
Pauvre maison, nous n'avons su te garder; puisses-tu tomber désormais dans des mains aimantes, artistes et vertes !
Paul Arrighi
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 9:25 AM UTC
a new blue tie,
a freshly ironed smile.
a political ****** expression,
a polished pair of leather dress shoes.
the democracy's corruption police,
becomes a system of spoils.
they chose their heirs,
before the election,
even begins.
talents lost in initiatives hands.
respect changes them,
leaving justice behind in the process.
trying to make sense of nothing,
is what this free land has become.
an oligarchic form of life,
and an autocratic vision of the future.
Aug 27, 2015
Aug 27, 2015 at 10:40 AM UTC
flaccid pacifists symbolizing sexism
single-mindedly corrupting hostile youth
ruining bullying and facilitating inbreeding
through top-down initiatives laced with bath salts
the pussify-ing of America has begun –
tear soaked cheeks distort with rage
at the blatant separatist ideals propagated
creating not one nation under rule of law,
but many angry independent states bent on torture laws
and privatized prison for profit
shareholders holding gavels and lives
in an unjust system of justification
……they deserve this –
broken-hearted mothers line razor-wire fences
defenseless against the tyrannical bureaucracy
beholden to the loved one wrongly incarcerated
banging bloodied fists against walls that hear no cries,
defeated, they slip into damaged Datsun’s disappearing
freeway anonymity is the course of the day –
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 4:49 PM UTC
the initial purport
this literary effort delivered atchew
to reed constitutes hazmat tocks sin
within White House blew
per, viz thee president be
getting a Hollywood love story
with "Stormy Williams" despite brew
haha murmur, now dapper Don in deep doo doo
thus, this garrulous married pro LIX prone papa flew
off (like a bat out of hell)
to his Macbook Pro laptop presenting myself
implicating Trump as po' faux guise Mister McGoo
affiliated, confused, and explained
being on par with Winnie the Pooh
especially stuck right tub bear arms in grr...
Rabbit's House, now he doth stew
nsync, nonetheless this path a logical
rhyme stir on the straight and true
composeing grist sill for ye to view
now, nar hating, hit ting
private links provide attention turned toward
two thousand twenty presidential election campaign
no Iron nee, anno putter opportunity,
how he diplomatically strived, and nearly scored
to boast asthma, overt braggart, stalwart
asper ideal consistency of cement poured
affiliation, aggregation, and attestation moored
prevails ma (Jack booted - magical) lord
rolling back to Timbuktu progressive liberal
Democratic initiatives star Apprentice
sans ("NO LIES") being linkedin, he almost ignored
with voluble chattering class hud hoard
hobnobbing (with the likes of Missus Muir's ghost,
who resort to Matthew Scott's turf brand),
reconstituted, recycled, and repurposed, gourd
nonetheless Trumping protocol necessitates me bing bored
predictable feigned "FAKE" non accord.
Apr 17, 2018
Apr 17, 2018 at 10:31 PM UTC
a spoof
on reality
there only
peculiar to
sensitivity as
mobility does
change in
cyberpunk while
our glorious
rays portray
freedom with
our initiatives
in management
or idolatry
and driven
to extreme
in America
Dec 14, 2017
Dec 14, 2017 at 7:11 AM UTC
Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging Aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
May 23, 2018
May 23, 2018 at 1:24 AM UTC
Ruminating epoché,
‘I am…’ ‘Or am I’? Who can say?
‘A posteriori’ leads the way
For the extra and the ordinary
Axiomatic sway
In the gravity of corollary,
‘A priori’ interplay.
Ataraxic overlay of anxious automation,
As the innocence of dissonance delay
Initiatives imperative consolidation,
Civilly disobedient in expedient disarray.
Practicing semantic contemplation,
Filling nihilistic voids with particles in waves,
Forecast in vague extrapolation,
To interpret dreams of Freud to free Oedipus’s slaves,
A degreeless scholastic who never misbehaves,
Simulated humanoid dramatic in the affect that he craves,
Inflating the linguistics of silent enclaves,
A thespian who plans conation with legacy engraves.
Probabilistic determiner of cosmogenous debates,
The Apperceived inquirer of qualitative states,
Inspiring proprietor of dismality abates.
Challenging aporia as epistemic oscillates,
Stoically, heroically, ‘one’ who amalgamates,
Circling the infinite in hermeneutic calibrates.
Mar 18, 2017
Mar 18, 2017 at 11:50 AM UTC
i’m sitting scrolling through Instagram taking a 5 minute brain break from my grad class work
about urban education policy which breaks my heart
because education policy and initiatives in urban school districts don’t take into account
poverty
unsafe living conditions
mom working 3 jobs just to put food on the table and keep the lights on
violence
drugs
all of which are exacerbated by the pandemic we’re in right now
all i need is 5 minutes to escape from that
but as i scroll
all i can see is
******
death
sadness
rage
another unarmed back man was murdered by white cops
another cry of “i can’t breathe”
another child died of starvation
another plane crashed
another trans woman of color was murdered
another kid committed suicide
another animal was shot so someone could have bacon for breakfast
another black man was harassed by a white woman while birdwatching in the park
another woman was beaten by her husband while quarantined together
all i need is 5 minutes
to escape the
******
death
sadness
rage
that’s everywhere
i’m just tired
everything i’ve seen today has broken my heart
everything i saw yesterday broke my heart
and the day before that
and the day before that
and the day before that
how can i help make change if i’m so **** tired all the time?
May 28, 2020
May 28, 2020 at 4:16 PM UTC
My beloved hermitage is under siege,
My beloved hermitage is under attack,
Who will save my hermitage?
The mayhem,
A fierce mayhem,
Invisible incredible unbeatable,
Roars roams and reigns,
All our strenuous efforts in vein
Who will save my hermitage?
The mayhem in the shapes of human
Of the devil himself dressed in a suit,
Dressed in white you’d think is an angle,
No! don’t be fast in making conclusion,
For it could only be delusion.
The mayhem bares its fangs,
Human pieces gone berserk,
A man beheaded by his own species
And symmetrically placing his head on the streets
To send untold messages to you,
Don’t know who?
The mayhem,
Reigning mayhem in my hermitage,
Leaving a trail of innocent blood,
Blood overflowing in our palms,
Rushing out our veins,
Staining the human race.
The mayhem promoting impersonal initiatives,
Hooligans and hoodlums reaping where
They’ve never sown,
Marauding youths bringing mayhem in my hermitage
Acting like aliens from planet hell.
Who will save my hermitage?
The mayhem has made
Humans go insane,
A mayhem beheading you, him and us,
Sending venomous fear chills
Masquerading us patriots.
Why this mayhem?
Why?
The mayhem has become dubious
About inhumanity in humans,
Humans rearing mayhem in my hermitage,
People taking horrendous oaths
Oaths that are deadly and devilish.
The mayhem sabotages My hermitage’s economy,
Pains and pangs of plights persists
Daunted and scathed with no Opposition…
Why this mayhem?
Why?
Who will save my hermitage?
Nov 13, 2016
Nov 13, 2016 at 2:35 AM UTC
My lobes will never agree to greed and fame,
That doesn't mean I won't grow with a big name,
I will grow on my own with my own perspectives ,
I like everyone's proposals and I respect it,
That helping initiatives,
Those different ideas taking to being lavish,
Surely money buy what is needed to get into being existing,
But it doesn't direct to being satisfied,
So it's the creativity upon which I rely,
Got my flexible points and the solid ones,
No one can trim them while adding there owns.
Jul 22, 2017
Jul 22, 2017 at 9:24 AM UTC
Would you see me as me?
In the silent gaps between doing,
In the stillness when I’m thinking,
In the stuttering and lost words
My mumblings and talk,
Can you make out a story?
Intentions and initiatives
that may lead to nothing,
Can you see the trying?
In the half filled paper,
the lost ending.
Can you imagine my thoughts?
Jan 14, 2021
Jan 14, 2021 at 9:49 AM UTC
I am Canadian. We are considered polite.
I will remain so here.
We are a socialist democracy.
You, a capitalist democracy.
Our Prime Minister makes mistakes.
He's comparatively young. He takes good council.
He speaks of what he knows,
And knows when not to speak.
He can be mean (depending), but never cruel.
He has great wealth, but neither flaunts nor hides it.
When he equivocates or lies, he knows it.
We have all the amenities of a capitalistic society,
With the security and comfort of our social pluralism.
Our youth enrol in a free and fine education.
We have no rich or poor school districts.
We have no security guards or metal detectors.
We are not an economic super power.
We do not influence worldly affairs with an itch or a sniffle.
Our Senate is powerless (enough said).
Authority and power lie in the multi-party system;
Each chooses its leader.
We don't vote for the Prime Minister,
But every four years (and many times less) we can vote one out.
And get this: sometimes the party changes horses midstream to rein in getaways.
A coup d'état is almost impossible,
Unless we get invaded for our fresh water.
We're not nuclear armed, but when called, the Forces are tenacious.
We're not war mongers. We really do prefer peace.
Our former P.M. won a Nobel for coming up with the idea of a U.N. Peacekeeping Force. That's a real one.
We have serious problems like you. At times, the innocent and the guilty get hurt; that's never good. And believe me, we support most of your political initiatives, domestic and foreign, and your peaceful demonstrations. We know pain too.
I know you love your country. And you have **** good reasons.
Most Canadians love you too, and we are very worried about our southern neighbours who treat us so well when we visit west of the St. Clair River.
We've helped you when you were in need; when your country was under attack. We are your good neighbours with good fences. We will always be there for you and whatever Democracy you choose.
Please, choose wisely.
Bless America
Sep 26, 2020
Sep 26, 2020 at 3:48 PM UTC
Poets Without Boudoirs
Je suis occupy #hashtag support us
Resistance transcultural support us
Committee manifesto support us
Ministry of culture, yes, support us
Empowerment crucial space support us
Initiatives nonprofit support us
Weaves a layered tapestry support us
Conceptual identity support us
Fresh new voices unflinching support us
Iambs are oppressivist support us
Apr 21, 2017
Apr 21, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
Words inspired by Dr. Martin Luther King
Inspiration with empowerment
Every sentence by the hour
The image in having power
No period could ever certainly stop
It’s the movement’s that keep all of us on top
We shall overcome
Yet the fight continues and we are not done
Together we are all one
The sunrise in standing and looking beyond our cries
Every effort should be our try
Surpass obstacles that label us outclass
Take no backseat in being last
Races are about associating and living among
Races come in all shades and we are one
Freedom is a given right
No challenge just asking for respect and being polite
Races are not asking for the world
It’s our voices in being heard with understanding being the swirl
More than just Washington, DC steps
Not Las Vegas where you can place a bet
Speeches are made to keep the world abreast in aware
There should be no negative caution in our beware
Think on resolutions, but not be a square
The focus point in how races can go from when to there
As a Content Writer/Poet the voice is in our hands
It has become a solid demand
Think about what causes us to write
Think about how we will continue with Dr. King’s fight
Dr. King fought hard so that races would be recognized
That is enough for us to energize
The mission wasn’t truly complete
History has regained itself with bringing deceit
Slavery was a thing of the past
But the outcome didn’t last
The fog has lifted and we can see clearly now
But today we have a battle and we must show the world how
Speak with positive initiatives
Let your word of voice be like the raw of thunder
But not take cover and hide under
The mirror shows the image of whom we are
Dr. Martin Luther King who took this far
Races that come together are like no other
A separation between
A battle of good and mean
Honor the man who said you are a person
Honor the man who instilled dignity and purpose
Dr. King who died for us
Step up the platform being a must
Dr. King, “Thank you for inspiring me”
I will carry your dream continuously for all too see.
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
Framing a quaint perspective
Pertaining metaphorical abased character
Shoulders of ridiculous initiatives
******* the pleasure of the sweetest nectar
Evaluating by rough deformities
Framing a quaint perspective
With dignity of formalities and amenities
Portraying ****** sketches of victims
Sufferer in the mouth of cannon
Soul in deep dark abaddon...
Jan 4, 2018
Jan 4, 2018 at 9:24 AM UTC
Life is a transit camp and moments are caged
In our imprisonment for what we are gauged
When every act ,every move is properly paged
Without our desire and our liking we are staged
People in robes tell that we are accounted for
We listen to their malicious sermons and snore
Apparently born free but we are behind the bar
To this vicious circle for forgiveness we implore
God is so merciful and just sparingly forgives
Only He is the one who knows our all motives
He loves us not just as captives but as real natives
He rewards us for our all intentions and initiatives
Col Muhammad Khalid Khan
Copyright 2016 Golden Glow
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
Nauseating persiflage pontification
by aeolists with hollow minds,
it's a zugzwang situation,
so stuck among the prolix.
Panglossians in one ear
pessimists in the other,
a hiraeth longing for hygge,
yet stuck in the social mire.
Nonneutonian fluid vacuum,
imminent immersion of initiatives,
halting inundation of discerning,
heading toward a humming flat line.
Suddenly I adimpleate, with joy,
an archetypal suggestion floats in the air,
I excuse myself from the aretalogers,
and hunt the primordial source.
With legwork and inquest,
here and there on the scene,
I am defeated, misfortune,
alas, absorbed back into the quagmire.
Aug 15, 2017
Aug 15, 2017 at 11:23 AM UTC