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WS Warner Nov 2013
Part One
Nascent Craving

The insular heart unsealed; pearled eyes
Breach parapets of stone— periled shield,
The sweetest ****—
A threatening wonder and irrefragable synergy,
Nervous routes of cognition  
In this nascent, amorous craving.
Locked and abased,
Dissonance lends pathos — euphoric and onerous,
Disconsolate cries curb sublimation,
The regnant bleed diffusing — fervid lust
Fondled, tactile surfaces in throbbing anticipation.

Sullen, aft a veil of laughter,
Visceral aftermath, out of
The ardent ash,
Burns a thirst;
Insuperable numbness and ache.
Efflorescent intimacy,
Table for two
Enraptured in new alliance,
Élan vital (psyche);
Urgent dialect petitions
Equivocation, jocularity blending
Provocation with indecision,
Noted lilt of descending inhibition.

Adrift, the incessant Now;
As occasion inexorably diminished;
Resonant simpatico tending,
Numinous amity;
Heard conversant, cognitive idioms—
Lassitude, time-eaten pangs of the unhinged heart,
Wounds axiomatic,
In disquieting synergy,
Nibbling, the circumference—
Misery’s permeating truth;
None immune, all trundle incongruously past,
Facing intrepid savages.

Licitly felt, reverberations of Amor
Whence the heart behaves;
Measured cadence, pulse elevating—
Treasured lover, contemplative muse;
Undulating clasp, inflated bone of absence;
Incarnation — a woman,
Beyond prosaic;
Ineffable adoration pours in certitudes of verse,
Elenita, enclothed —virtue unvarnished;
Reservoir intrinsic, poised advocate of the innocent:
The crooked lines of insolence,
Brazen culture of neglected youth.
Perceptive blue stare, sensitized tears—
Plaintively, evincing her injustice ago.

Part Two
Tendered Senses

Siren silence, eruptive blush, ampler between phrases
In dulcet tones — stirring discourse;
Foments rebellion, the strife beneath— his ****,
Out of its vast reserve,
Penetrate the narrowed ambit, vaguely announced.
Groping hands, migrating the sensual member
Stern faces grimacing— mirror in abrasion,
Under the blind surf of consent;
Burrowing ambiguity, emerging torsion,
Plunge, enlisted and content in the sea;
Subsumed in the nonverbal cue,
Persuasion’s plea,
Quelled in the post cerebral assent.

Piercing eyes parallel crystalline waters of Lake Tahoe.

An untouched portion of his awareness remains aloof,
Palpable in the subsequential quiet,
Obsequious and febrile, they sinned on sofas;
Peregrine predilections quenched and viscid—
Serenely requited, the room breathes her presence,
Limp, figures *******, mantled in adolescent torpor.

Erudition in bloom, trust undoubted,
Illuminating, satiating; tempest calm—
Under canvas
Terrain soaked and sodden,
Postliminary — rains of invalidation.
Allowance and permission
Recalibrate, salivate, shortly only—
Initiate, obliged consecration, appraising
Curvatures of the spine,
Stuns him obeisant, her femenine pulchritude,
Propinquity inciting vigor,
Emergent allure, the updriven
Tower of wood sprung from the blanket.


Suffused in ether, purring streams of remembrance
Vaginal honeyed dew, sung into
Orchids, remnants of remember;
Drenched down the cynosure of devotion;
Succulent view, diaphanous pantied bottom;
Halcyon mist, saporous wine — compliance of the will,
Freed fires wander,
Pliable rind, twin plums dripping,
Abject confession, dispatching doubt
In tendered senses,
Pivotal tree, lavender Jacaranda holds the key,
Unfurled, cindered vulnerability.

Half-denuded skin invites confessional savor
Acutely bubbled rear, fleshly furnished denim;
Sultry visit, San Ramon Valley in the fall,
Strewed limbs splendid, flowing filmy;
Imagination yields—
Bursting silk congealed
Across deft thighs, ambrosial thong draping ankles,
Grazing ascension, the curvaceous trajectory
Nose inflamed with fragrance,
Inhaling, climb of acquiescence,
The ****** weal, amid the globed fruit,
Focal intention — ploughed lance thrusting,
Absconding, the ancillary perfume of essence.

Perceiving avid validation,
Swimmingly, amid the monstrous gaze.
  
Humid skies simper dank, set swell the incense of Eros,
Surge of poetry engorged
The flame levened shaft,
Nimble ******* flounce, spill the harboring mouth;
Moist hands merging, unfettered,
Weave in supplication,
Vicinity voicing, enmeshed diversion;
Supple and spherical behind
Posterior arch, milky-skin against the lip—
Ripeness jostling their complacency;
Lapped the mooring, ridden decisively;
Recapitulating— spumed forth, bellied over hips warmth.
Abandon the dirge of self-pity
Late under ego’s trance.
  
Part Three
Present Tenses

Tempting trespass across sacred gardens,
Flowering, scandal set luminous: attachment—
Consensual, their corresponsive fear;
Protean manifestations— evocative, perpetual
Unutterable contention in a fictive resolve,
Deliberating the merits of their widely disparate tastes in coffee,
Amorously touring wine, let’s drowse through the gnarled vine.
Sundry deficiencies pale, once contrasted;
The beatific vision—
Material substance unaccompanied,
Imperceptible, tear-streamed cheeks in synch,
Ventral kiss, peak of carnal perfection,
Reminiscence— flesh violent with Love.

Fiction knew to meander the innominate rift,
A tincture of irony soften misdeeds
Immense as the sea.
Insolvent beast stippled with sapience—
Unmasked, the fabric of delusion;
Dependence smothering the disciplined heart
Resentment put up for release.

Waste of residual years
Fate’s apportion, scars bleakly observed;
Chastened by heartache, engulfing fervor
Too faint to recapture.
Vague glimpses dry—
Hypervigilant his defenses,
Veritable suspensions, embers lit linger;
Slender walls of solidity, the horizoned self,
Faith and reason in concert — stone levels of elucidation.

Fractured bones of distance, emanate a rigid salience,
Another ponderous night of absence—
Lingering, cauldron of dearth as indifference ushers,
The quotidian coil of contrition.
Tearful pallor, sequestered —ciphering time and solitude;
The unkissed mouth, his restive brow;
Suspend in the approximate span.
                      
After Lucid alliterations are spoken
Devoid of her face, his lover’s nudge—
The man nurtures his hurt.

Anxious as seldom unscarred,  
Venus’s susurrations,
In present tenses,
Kissed by her serenades of integration—
Notwithstanding metaphysic intrusion,
No chain stays unbroken,
Postponed drifts of deferment left unspoken,
Reverberations of amor.

© 2013 W. S. Warner
To Eileen
Keith W Fletcher Jun 2016
Broke
Unable to finalize any purchase
Checking
For change in the last places that one searches
Insufficient
To the point I'm unable to ward off the throes of destitution
Bankrupted
By devaluing those who have not made restitution
Insolvent
To the point of having to fight off the urge to curse
Disallowed by the prose that places value and give credit....to verse
Denied
Any credit accrued....maybe even unearned
Reevaluation
With no accounting for the time you
SPENT
Learning what you have learned
Depreciation or Appreciation
Cannot be quantified by the lack of someone.saying thanks
Interest will eventually be of value
Once accrued... but for now I must accept
That I'm simply overdrawn at my memory banks
Investment in my own value
Will allow me growth
In my own ...
......personal
Checking account
Helping me in balancing  the books
Keeping me payed up and happy
BY
Always giving others their true valuation
  So that ego doesnt become a currency
That is subject to... such a devastating inflation
1475

Fame is the one that does not stay—
Its occupant must die
Or out of sight of estimate
Ascend incessantly—
Or be that most insolvent thing
A Lightning in the Germ—
Electrical the embryo
But we demand the Flame
580

I gave myself to Him—
And took Himself, for Pay,
The solemn contract of a Life
Was ratified, this way—

The Wealth might disappoint—
Myself a poorer prove
Than this great Purchaser suspect,
The Daily Own—of Love

Depreciate the Vision—
But till the Merchant buy—
Still Fable—in the Isles of Spice—
The subtle Cargoes—lie—

At least—’tis Mutual—Risk—
Some—found it—Mutual Gain—
Sweet Debt of Life—Each Night to owe—
Insolvent—every Noon—
saarahe Sep 2013
he was a painter once-
in the sense of a duck, waddling
augustly chin up mild fingers
engraved with acrylic rice paddy
mosaics

his deft strokes, steady against
barn yard hum dry ruby in
watery crevices, between the skullcap
and cerebellum, between ages of semantics

his cast net he stirs
the mud-clodded ponds and
rasps, cane cracking leather,
I clasp on the waterlogged eyes out the window
airborne for some lost jungle to
salvage some sliver of a canvas

he turns to me on the wooden planks
and hand in hand we plummet into an abyss of
our own creation
Sillage Jul 2014
I find your strength within your weakness,
and your spontaneousness stutters in the melody of your lisps.

I find the power in your unspoken favorite flavor,
and the taste leaks from a puncture of your unconscious gesture.

I find your pain in the discourse of your taciturn glance,
and your fear preserved with the muscles of your midnight beard.

I find a lot in the nothingness in your insolvent pocket,
I find joy, glamour and an **ignited cello.
Olivia Kent Apr 2014
A barren field, now I sit wasted.
Had my time, but it's passed.
The children have grown.
Boom, bang blast.
Breaking out as flowers bloom.
Forget me nots, they are not.
As in my barren field I sit.
Unforgiven.
Proliferating as an incendiary device.
A starter of fires deep in my heart.
Filled up my mother of wombs.
Once they burned out of control.
Curse my heart and my soul.
For me, myself, I die insolvent.
Wailing in maladies of loves lost attachments.
Why may this be, I hear thee say.
I disregarded them, I wanted to play.
The heart of the matter.
Who mattered was me!
(C) Livvi
Shiv Pratap Pal May 2020
Come people come
Please come to us

Oh you are so poor
You suffer so much

Do you ever know?
Why you suffer so much?

I bet, you don't know at all
It's because of your Karmas

I have a remedy
For all your sufferings

My name is Crankie
I have opened a Bankie

Bankie is just another type of bank
A bank in the business of Karma's

Deposit your good Karma's here
Get lucrative interest on annual basis

Thus your balance of good Karmas
Will rise and multiply gradually

Yes, it will be printed on your passbook
It will also be reflected in your credit score

We have many-many, so many branches
We have numerous ATM here and there

Your account will have enough liquidity
You may withdraw it anytime you need

It can even be inherited by your heirs
In case you die leaving your balance intact

You may even nominate anyone dear to you
He or She can claim the balance after your death

You can even transfer some good Karmas
To the account of your other near and dears

So you have a question to Ask, Okay -
Go Ahead, Ask, I will reply with pleasure

So you are asking me, What will I do –
With bulky baggage of your good Karma's

It's simple my dear. My name is Crankie
I have opened a Bankie, I am Businessman

I will lend your good Karmas to people
Who have less amount of good Karma's

They will use those good Karma's to earn
More and more, good Karma's with ease

And will pay regular interest to our Bankie
And when they succeed in earning a lot

They will also repay the Principal borrowed
Thus both, Bankie and its customers will earn

So your good Karmas are going to earn
Not only a hefty interest, but also help others

To generate more and more good Karmas
Just like the holy Gods and unholy Demons -

Performed 'Ocean Churning' which generated
Fourteen special jewels including the ambrosia

Thus this effort will make a better society
And a better world for all of us to live in

So isn't a Good and Great Idea, Yes it is.
All the people agreed with great applause

They started depositing their good Karmas
And got their interest credited in Passbooks

They were quite happy, though their life degraded
As they never utilized or encashed their Karmas

But instead choose to deposit them in Bankie
Opened by the great businessmen Crankie

--------------------------------------------------------­-----
AFTER TEN YEARS
-----------------------------------------------------------­

People saw a board hung on the gates of Bankie
It was put there by the worthy Banking Regulator

It was just to inform every Tom **** and Harry
And was not at all for the fairy, living in heaven

"This Esteemed Bank has gone Bankrupt.
As a regulator we realize our duty and authority

So we are conducting an enquiry to ascertain
How this all has happened after all

Until further Orders from our side,
You the common people are hereby informed

You will be allowed to withdraw just a single
Good Karma for the next ten month period"

There was a rumour that that the bank had,
A large amount of Non Performing Assests

Because borrowers failed to return the loan
They failed to pay interest and the principal too

This was not the only rumour flowing around
There was also a rumour spreading everywhere

"Mr Crankie had lent all the good Karmas to
His Friends, family, relatives, near and dear

They didn't even bother to pay it back to Bankie
There were so many irregularities in issuing loans

The guarantors happened to be the borrowers also
The Borrowers happened to be the guarantors also

As a result the bank filed case in court and prayed
To declare Bankie as legally bankrupt and Insolvent"

Rumours always likes to travel in multiples
Not in a single strand. One of them was -

"Bankie was bankrupt on paper only
In real Crankie laundered all its money

And deposited them all in various accounts
In the famous tax havens of the world

The investigation is going on in constant pace
Legal authorities are working round the clock

The poor customers have no choice at all
They just sit and rejoice by singing a song

"Mr. Crankie, along with your Bankie
Please get us a beautiful hankie

To wipe our flowing nose
Because our eyes are ******

And the tears are not leaking
From any of them after all

Mr. Crankie and your Bankie
Please get us a beautiful hankie"
Just Another Poem on Banking and Capitalism
Kam Yuks Jan 2014
Is it elegance or ignorance? Subcutaneous subterfuge. Blanketed and varying slightly, insolvent and limited. Bourne amidst a social caste of wealth or not for you.

The reigning victors make the rules. Life is a habit, not a reflex. To learn I must clear my mind of unnecessary clutter and make order within the hoard.
Nat Lipstadt May 2017
~

pass him the newborn,
not the first, indeed, the third of five,
almost a regular comet occurrence,
happy poppy,
grizzled veteran of the nine lives foreign wars - then


The Inexplicable  

Yellowstone geyser eruption,
Vesuvius of wet tear ash Pompeiing,
overfilling the overcrowded hospital room,
brilliant flashes of eyes emitting lightening,
tornadoes of an unpredicted hurricane,
that no weather service forecast,
hinted of imminence,
unprepared, thus, for which
they had no name but Baby Girl,
but the older man turned sudden singer had one,


The Inexplicable  

for as sudden as thunder,
the hospital room is an audience,
the old man, a bawling crooner
stunning the assembly into
nervous tittering laughter,
backslapping self-comforting,
so out of character
for the usual so quiet workaholic,
the secret poet whose shoulders
upside U-bent from decades of writing and
recording the momentous, the

endless worrying,
the foolish fleeting scarcity of joys,
the slowing ways of sad aging to wisdom gained,
foreseeing the struggle/joy inequivalent insolvent equation
of love and loss,
the forever pleasure of hopeful rebalancing,
a perpetual motion machine,
the seesaw of torrential ups and downs,
of the yet-to-come
for which he could compose, recite, in formal rhyme,
stanza and line,
chapter and verse,
blessings and unheard of
original poems and curses
and this peculiar blessing


this old man lad could so easy close his eyess,
recalling being
seven years, ageless and sageless,
sure in the ways of a cocky confident boy,
who is now succumbed to


The Inexplicable  

singing - humming - gasping - weeping - wishing true
the oldest rocking, children song in the entire world


"row row your boat,  
gently down the stream,"

but choking on,
unable to release the songs signature line,
from within his body,

then finally,

the truth and the lie,

"life is but a dream"


so the watchers do it for him;
unintended but fully comprehended!
the crazy man formally anoints the child's forehead,
with handy tears on a pointer forefinger,
a salt solution upon a slice of flesh containing
secrets and wisdoms
knowledges of historical continuations

nervously, they ease the babe, prying her
from hands tremblingly, his and theirs,
too late too late!

the secrets and the history personal
has been passed, the bonding genetic certified
the oldest fool in the room,
wise in the ways of the now transferred


The Inexplicable  

*dispatched home,
go, write a poem, they say,
to late too late!
it has been writ,
in a coded inexplicable manner,
that only two humans
can proper read
Ken Pepiton Nov 2019
In life's darkest, coldest histories, only those told
first tongue, empower courage in the
knowing emparted, as if we
were there. Our best
effort brought us
here, some how. We feel we must stand up for

our self, eh, what about my self? There's a burr, eh?
A dullness revealing fractured christline
constructs and the core, where
courage is stored in true
chain breaking known thought processes,
so
secret you may not be
allowed to know, like when we were kids with
no internet and no adults would
tells us how adultery functions
with usury and political magicians to enslave
us according to sortings in standardized tests.

Conceal weakness with signs of power,

make believe, show believers believable

e-visons as evident possibles,

so the power, small though it be,
the power of the people,
who hold no truths
self
evident, id est evincing and convincing
us, these rights are right,
for those who use us right,

words, true, make free the ready writer to
presume reading truth makes free
thinking go wild, like con
funsion making
sunlight...

in the past hear it... this little light of mine
no chain nor twisted trifold cord can
quench, a word
to the wise is leaven enough for the whole ******
loaf.
Shew, see,
we can wield power, if we can believe
the king, is where the kingdom is,
and any child who asks her pooka can know,
the kingdom is where I always behold
the face of God, angel-baby...

or we can imagine,
we have this power to create entire
othernesses,

similar to our self,
our logos and these pre-loaded breathing
algorithims of in and outs, ups and downs,

twisting and sooming assumed id-intities
are mea nd we wander, meander,

flow in the trough of a spiraling wave
pulling the rain back to the sea,

so each water weness we imagine may be re
used, for goodness knows what,
universal solvency was one
water function ac
cused of causing, aitiatic tic tic time bomb

Jerry-rigged, Rubic cubed trigger,

gay blades shaved the iron legs, y'know
**** Deus is punishing truth,

the true power of any pun
ish bin ein Berliner mit Arizona Prickly Pear jelly,

laughing into funk-tion-ality the oddities of beings
not me,
in my meanderings through optional doors
inside the narrow way,
ala the way to Petra, we've seen the way

similar in every fractal way to the tracks of tears

cuttin crevases through pressure packed dust that
must
have piled suddenly high, for,
when it flowed as the red mud that stopped
right there at the edge of the Sedona
manifestation of oddities.

Check it out. Google Earth it.

**** Deus wannabe, meet my old friend from
the foundery in Arkansas,
E Pluribis Unem Massey

crazy now, there is a man by that name, with a .jr,
a link forgotten,
save the memory that may be in the water,
we used to wash the grime of burning iron into
the river to rust into louisiana to feed
the phyto plankton past the delta
grease of seeping poison
insolvent in the universe, save for fire

fire can burnishit tic make it bright, reflecting
mirrors for the smoke

choking the me who can't see, how Wattie Piper
virus was passed on to
EPluribis Massey, Jr., but it must have been
some variation on the
living words,
like:
I think I can, and the congregation
responds:
as a man thinks, in his heart, so is he.

As the waters all flow to the sea, take no thought
for tomorrow,
take it as granted, today.
Overcoming is done one step at a time, and there is always a place to put one's foot, if, if, if you can remember knowing how to ride a bike, minus the bike.
Tanisha Jackland Dec 2015
If you could swim inside this womb
to take a warm slow bath in the blood,
I’d piece together those moments
of borrowed flesh

I am conjurer crafting
water from stagnant air and
I eat fire to rinse my bones
clean of the soot

I have risen from insolvent wing
to remake the dead into eternal things
I have birthed the big bang with the
Friction of my lips

Some of the dead have been named
And shot through the roots
to live on deciduous

We belong inside the belly of this world
Playing tag to wind songs and *******
with naked eyes
Poetic T May 2019
Collect the bones of the poor,
     And let there bones build
the walls to keep out
           the retches,
                   the undesirables,
                                 the different.


And then realise that the wall
                contains you.


For we are all poor in different aspects,
                  be it dignity,
                            be it humility.


Be it the virtues that make us who we are.



We should never look at another as divergent,
                 for we are all apitamy of
                             our own diluted reflections.

Everyone is insolvent in the walls we create,

                        We just have to learn never to build them
in the beginning,
                           and realise we all take the same footsteps.

 No one walks differently from another in life journey.
darkness excites. caliginous walls
    flounder. deepening are the blue grievances.

i should have killed you
  in the stale air of nothing; when it was said
that it takes less courage to love.

a hoarse cry in the obstinate woodland
  insolvent, pressed against the foot of hills.

the quietus in spite of artillery
over and over the deep, droning sound of it.

tirelessly the flowerheads swing forth
newfangled skin and engravings of pious woodwork

tremble in the maladroit wind. the indefatigable purple
   of the very twilight – its slow onset, flays from the air

once it gets into the vertical; I will not speak
  in front of mirrors and curse the fragrance
of camphor and its foretold departure –

everything that is not much of its communion
   living at the small altitude of my feet;

blood rises clean, emerging
  from the earthen womb as I am not hers yet,

I should have assaulted you as a marauder
   arrives in the deep, blackening night

                        of total surrender.
Coordination and compassion
Rest upon the wrist
But the elbow is beyond your grip
It slips and rips and tears
and bends
Before it springs into action  
once again
I am a lung
I breathe in and out
The language of love
Echoes from the mouth of the universe
at rest there is only silence
I am best used for singing
and diving
I am another form of respiration
I am salvation in insolvent situations
You must learn liberation
whenever I go on vacation
At the moment i am resting
my bones
For love is answered
in silent overtones
Whenever we are alone
Tongues are entwined
And tonight we shall dine
on our tiptoes
jeffrey conyers Aug 2016
Our love is bankrupt.
Insolvent.
Broke of any feelings.
Once where gains was made?
Has now floated into the river of no return.

Once where beneficial means meant depth.
Has now became a failed endeavor of no joy.

Love, what happen to us?
Our love is bankrupt.
Was, there ever love?
Big Virge Sep 2021
When Your Chip Stack is Down...
On Whom Can You Count...
To Do Right By You... ???

When It Comes To Food...
And Giving You Proof...
That You Do Matter Too... ?!?

Instead of Run Chatter...
That Proves Their Talk’s Loose...

When Things Start To Get TOUGH...
Who Will REALLY STEP UP...
And Get Past Arguments... !?!

Instead of Behave...
Like A Selfish Ingrate...
Who Will NOT Share A Plate...
To Make Sure You’re Okay...

Because Heads Will Make Claims...
About What They Will Do...
When Everything’s COOL...

But When BIG Pressures Lick...
Their Lips Become Zipped...
And Their Actions EXPOSE...
How Much Love That They Hold...
When Their Comfort Zones Blown...

It’s A SAD Thing To See...
But It’s... REALITY... !!!

From These BIG Companies...
That Are Full of NICE SPEAK...
When They WANT YOUR MONEY...

But Are Quick To Retreat...
When Their Customers Need...
To Receive Help... QUICKLY... !!!

You’ll SUDDENLY See...
A LACK of... URGENCY... !!!

From Power To Water...
We’re Just Lambs To Be Slaughtered... !!!
For Corporate Hoarders...
And Figurehead Leaders...
Who Are Just Pretty Speakers... !!!

Until It Is Time...
For THEM To Provide...
Some Proof That Their Talk...
Is... MORE Than Just Talk... !!!

And That THEY’LL SACRIFICE...
To Save Poor Peoples’ Lives...

BEFORE Lining Their Pockets...
To Avoid Seeing Problems...
Like Being... Insolvent... !!!

From Leaders To Bosses...
Their Talk’s Mostly Nonsense...
When It Comes To Losses...
And Prices NOT Dropping... !!!

And As For Your... “ Friends “...
Well You’ll Soon Get To See...
Who Your Friends TRULY BE...
When They Have Family...
Who They Need To Protect... !!!

Will You Be Brothers Then... ?!?
Or... Sisters And Queens...

Or Will You Just Be...
An UNWANTED Problem... !?!

So You Need To Be Wise...
With Whom You Align...
Because You May Find...
That Their Talk Is Designed...
To Make You Feel Like...

They’ll Treat You The Same...
As Those Bearing Their Name...

Until They’ve EARNED Your Trust...
You Should NOT Expect Much...
From Anyone Talking...
As If YOU’RE IMPORTANT...
To How THEIR LIFE Runs... !!!

People Will Make CLAIMS...
Pretty Much... EVERYDAY... !?!

To CONVINCE THEMSELVES...
That They’ll Be Quick To Help...
And Sometimes They Do...
Which REALLY Is COOL... !!!

But DON’T You Be Fooled... !!!

From People Who Lead...
To Your OWN Family...

Promises Made...
Are NOT Promises KEPT... !!!

And DON’T EVER FORGET... !!!

That The Label of Friends...
Goes WAY BEYOND Talk... !!!

It’s About A LOT MORE... !!!

So BEFORE You Get Clowned...
By A Sweet Talking Mouth...
Who’s Quick To Suggest...
That They’ll Do What Is Best...
For YOU In... Times of Need...

Make Sure Their Loyalty...
Doesn’t Feed Off Money...
Or... HAVING To AGREE...
With The Things THEY Believe...

Because MANY Will SHOUT...
About... Helping You out...

When Tough Times Come Around...
But AREN’T... Easily FOUND...

“ When Your Chip Stack Is Down“
You'll find out a great deal about those around you, when your cashflow runs low !
the Nov 2017
a night of impassive atrocity
a sway of tremulous convulsions
shattered like puzzles of thoughts
fastened to endless torture...

...from close relatives

abandoned, wallowed in woes from insolvent soul
it prints a shallow outlook to upcoming world
however, once vexed, it retains a pleasant look
young damsel fathoms the compassionate side of her

it reflects the true light, the true meaning
after those mournful years of adolescence
a gleeful smile of yet innerly broken girl
howbeit shiny her attitude ought to be
Keith W Fletcher Feb 2017
Bound by the deceptive images
That so often march parade like
Across the blank canvas of my imagination
Daring me to post date a check on my reality
In hopes of cashing in while the exchange rate
Allows me to find interest beyond
accumulated wealth
Those invaluable moments that penetrate the soul
Destined to Forever hang just Out Of Reach
But never out of sight or out of mind

And in those flagging moments of  impassionate death
When all time and reality ceases to exist
In that momentary slice of Eternity
Where dreams go in search of validity

To find themselves bound by the deceptive images
That way way too often march parade like
Across that crowded canvas of my past
That run together like watercolor hopes
Drawn on the account made insolvent
By the voided and unsecured loan
Of all my heartfelt losses still bouncing
From cashing in that post-dated check on my reality
That left me overdrawn and broke
Kurt Philip Behm Jul 2018
Billy Blue
Billy Blue,
Your world’s a mess
There’s nothing new

Billy Blue
Billy Blue,
Your sheep are shorn
Your flower’s few

Billy Blue
Billy Blue,
Your time now warps
In shades of grey

Billy Blue
Billy Blue,
That choice you made
To run away…

Billy Blue
Billy Blue,
Your worship hollow
An empty pew

Billy Blue
Billy Blue,
Your time insolvent
Your memories few

Billy Blue
Billy Blue
Last dice to roll
Snake eyes stare back

Billy Blue
Billy Blue,
The reaper knocks
—your fate unlatched

(Villanova Pennsylvania: May, 2016)
HOPE Feb 2022
Debts get written off,
whenever a debtor become insolvent
And I wonder why it can't be the same procedure,
for the agony shrouded deep within
It has been long overdue.
Matt Jul 2015
How is the Greek government going to pay its bills without any money?

How are the insolvent Greek banks going to operate without any money?

How is the Greek economy going to function without any money?
http://www.infowars.com/greece-votes-no-let-the-chaos-begin/
Yenson Dec 2021
Come make me laugh
at the visions of insolvent psychedelics
grossing their psyches as daleks
in automated delusions
they are hell bent on virtual extermination

Come make me laugh
at the surrealism of the profane artisans
the fingerless painters
dubbing satanic verses from their husks
to adorn the graffitis' in their vacant minds

Come make me laugh
and watch the ballet of lepers
at the Opera of amoebic revisionism
come hear the oratory of the pigs
now lit on neon lectern
blazing in the momentum of Animal Farm

Come laugh with me
at the zoology of Inhumane Kind
see the green eyed monsters
on the loose in weeping red hoods
and its payback time
for all our Colonies owe money to this fair isle
they have been greedy
in this green and pleasant land

I did say
Come make me laugh
at the visions of insolvent psychedelics
grossing their psyches as daleks
in automated delusions
'exterminate exterminate exterminate'
in between
the space of giving
and receiving
i am there
infinite truth
am i wisdom
am i being
or am i bliss
life is a twist
a spiral
as all things
revolve
around another
and rotate
on their own axis
terminally dancing
we are free
life is impossible
but here we are
and because
we are the stars
love is inevitable
so control
your appetite
for god is
an indivisible reality
or just maybe
its all a puzzle
and grief is
just a part
of the equation
for it is often
much better
not to try
to solve
an insolvent
situation
Walter Alter Jul 2023
mom was a radically insolvent
courtesan of the underpass camps
exploited by a grim and grimy past
reckless as the day is long
hosting a tourism so shameless
her own union set her on fire
to prevent further such mortifications
I advised her to talk to her real self
and got 5 blank staring minutes
basically because she didn't have one
only an extremely accurate echo
but she was a rebel and I loved her
kept her head lice population down
just so she could tell me the occasional
bedtime story on an empty stomach
hear now the legend of the Headless Man
once and a long ago
lived a lonely man with no head
one of the many stigmatized gentry
in the long forgotten social media uprising
somehow he could see hear and gesture
even though the neck was a pink nub
but he was hung like a meatloaf
making maidens titter at the village well
sighing rolling their eyes gasping flushed
um wait where was I
ah yes ... he fell in love
with the Bodiless Woman of course
knowing she could be of some use
it's a story of egregious assumptions
a belching sewer of lust and depravity
a juggernaut of rash sensual ambition
um wait where was I
ah right ... in the village below
the holy men were belled into a caucus
around Rowena’s oracle head
they came as the ancient test required
to run barefoot across the fire pit
at Detroit Jimmy's Bad to the Bone BBQ
the winner was a few inches shorter
from the igneous victory tap dance
a ritual purification of the sense of motion
accompanied by stigmatas and signs of wonder
Detroit Jimmy married Nub and Rowena
in a cabbage patch ceremony under the stars
wicked little boy went Row
on their wedding night mud bath
work me like your first bag of fries
invited Nub in a spasm of disorder
and they rode upstate in his Rocket 88
the road spreading gently
like a great pastry

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Kelly McManus Sep 2021
Let's just make it clear
the world has been insolvent
for too many years

                       Kelly McManus
Kurt Philip Behm Jun 2023
Unlocking the vault
invested with pain

Its riches long stolen
all value is stained

Each bill tells a story
of wantonness greed

With truth sold for dollars
whose printing now bleeds

Locked up in a winter
of coldness and fear

A traitorous fortune
of all you hold dear

Its smell tells a story
the mold growing thick

Corruption inherent
the air makes you sick

Bereft you can’t spend
what you coveted so

Before the interment
when sinking so low

The cash becomes toxic  
it falls from your hands

Its value infected
—insolvent and ******

(Dreamsleep: June, 2023)
battered pinata like

Yours truly courtesy servitude
tethered existence suffers neck
brunt of yoke
fiscal recklessness got me woke
within cosmic schema,
a mere infinitesimal speck.

Insolvent crisis principally bespoke
interestingly enough
caught me off balance
sudden pennilessness
(dollar short/ day late dada)
analogous to vice grip
stranglehold doth choke
coffers emptied
*****-nilly Okey doke
colorblindness
fundamentally governed me

into zombified state
thus another plaintive plea
I repeatedly, lamely, and feebly evoke
meaning remuneration welcomed
courtesy altruistic generosity, magnanimity
and philanthropy humble
anonymous Lake Woebegone folk
ideally Norwegian bachelor farmers
to alleviate fiasco from fiendish
fraudsters frazzled father.

In plain (Schwenksville speak)
broken English,
I fell prey to hustlers
audacious, ferocious, malicious,
voracious, zealous tricksters,
who stealthily found entry
into my Macbook Pro
and locked computer screen
with threatening implication
security of mine private domain
awash with byte size bits
of valuable information
at risk of being tampered
with or obliterated.

Analogous to eminent domain of yore
mine digital terrain
manifest destiny meant war
virtual flesh and blood
regarding these lovely bones
yours truly gussied up
as chargé d'affaires
sent on risky (business) dutiful tour
to inflict comeuppance on him
who rendered me poor
as a Unitarian Church mouse,

plus I recruited
offspring of one of countless
related German Shepherd dogs
featured in fictional stories
on film, radio and television,
who starred as Rin Tin Tin
belonging to elite K9 Korp
receiving unexpected support
courtesy end of gum
(cryptic message for ye
to chew on) sympathizers
voluntarily boosted success
at recouping major financial setback
my morale viz extempore.
Walter Alter Jul 2023
mom was a radically insolvent
courtesan of the underpass camps
exploited by a grim and grimy past
reckless as the day is long
hosting a tourism so shameless
her own union set her on fire
to prevent further such mortifications
I advised her to talk to her real self
and got 5 blank staring minutes
basically because she didn't have one
only an extremely accurate echo
but she was a rebel and I loved her
kept her head lice population down
just so she could tell me the occasional
bedtime story on an empty stomach
hear now the legend of the Headless Man
once and a long ago
lived a lonely man with no head
one of the many stigmatized gentry
in the long forgotten social media uprising
somehow he could see hear and gesture
even though the neck was a pink nub
but he was hung like a meatloaf
making maidens titter at the village well
sighing rolling their eyes gasping flushed
um wait where was I
ah yes ... he fell in love
with the Bodiless Woman of course
knowing she could be of some use
it's a story of egregious assumptions
a belching sewer of lust and depravity
a juggernaut of rash sensual ambition
um wait where was I
ah right ... in the village below
the holy men were belled into a caucus
around Rowena’s oracle head
they came as the ancient test required
to run barefoot across the fire pit
at Detroit Jimmy's Bad to the Bone BBQ
the winner was a few inches shorter
from the igneous victory tap dance
a ritual purification of the sense of motion
accompanied by stigmatas and signs of wonder
Detroit Jimmy married Nub and Rowena
in a cabbage patch ceremony under the stars
wicked little boy went Row
on their wedding night mud bath
work me like your first bag of fries
invited Nub in a spasm of disorder
and they rode upstate in his Rocket 88
the road spreading gently
like a great pastry

From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Dada Olowo Eyo Mar 2020
The world is a vulnerable place,
All that's needed is a slowing pace,
Anything to restrict global movement,
And watch how economies become insolvent.
COVID-19 exposes the world's underbelly. Many countries have become vulnerable as tourism takes a big hit.
KorbydAngyle Apr 2021
Scratch the fragrant demure
Societal surface of peace

London rules vents sliding debt and sinners
From the sky's release

What vehement striking lass ran too quickly
To meet me and the folks at mass?

Brought from in check fiends fromage(cheese) sensing sensible
Inculcation at last
Cool systemic cold cistern sensations severance delinquency climactic kin
Covers cast into colder costing calamity of coughs -
Seals hermetic erratic knowledge's vanity preach return plural tactics

Yet it sets you down on the other end of insolvent spectrum
You elated accentuate rustic character swiney needs and
paltry deeds biding stoically theatrics for them

Leader of enshrined death leader of sin
What monotonous love for life must I call my faith of...

In order for free life to begin again?!
alternative reality yet intended as living truth and justice noter
Kaashvi Jain Jan 2020
The world changes
With a gust of air
As I walk down
The once familiar roads
Where I used to
Run around the uncle's field
And pick one of those alluring
Yellow flowers
Then get thrilled by the
Shout of the sweetvendor
All the children ran to him
As he filled the tummies of the insolvent
Those evocations
Are now effaced
Instead there are
Tall structures
Peckish creatures
****** hands
As I try to recollect
The crooked house
Across the street
Where I spent my precious years
Is now gone.

— The End —