"installment" poems
To all who come to
this happy placenta, welcome.
Disneyland is your lane.
Here, agency relives fond menageries
of the pastiche,
and here yo-yos may savor
the chamber and promoter
of the fuzz.
Disneyland is dedicated to the identification,
the dregs,
and the hard factors
that have created America... with hope that it will be a source of jubilation
and installment
to all the wormhole.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 7:48 PM UTC
(To JS/07/M/378/ This Marble Monument
Is Erected by the State)
He was found by the Bureau of Statistics to be
One against whom there was no official complaint,
And all the reports on his conduct agree
That, in the modern sense of an old-fashioned word, he was a
saint,
For in everything he did he served the Greater Community.
Except for the War till the day he retired
He worked in a factory and never got fired
But satisfied his employers, Fudge Motors Inc.
Yet he wasn't a scab or odd in his views,
For his Union reports that he paid his dues,
(Our report on his Union shows it was sound)
And our Social Psychology workers found
That he was popular with his mates and liked a drink.
The Press are convinced that he bought a paper every day
And that his reactions to advertisements were normal in every
way.
Policies taken out in his name prove that he was fully insured,
And his Health-card shows he was once in hospital but left it
cured.
Both Producers Research and High-Grade Living declare
He was fully sensible to the advantages of the Installment Plan
And had everything necessary to the Modern Man,
A phonograph, a radio, a car and a frigidaire.
Our researchers into Public Opinion are content
That he held the proper opinions for the time of year;
When there was peace, he was for peace: when there was war,
he went.
He was married and added five children to the population,
Which our Eugenist says was the right number for a parent of
his generation.
And our teachers report that he never interfered with their
education.
Was he free? Was he happy? The question is absurd:
Had anything been wrong, we should certainly have heard.
2.1k
Tea taming the light
Misty magic
Crawls up the spine
Birds through the looking glass
She opened the book
Absorbing every page
Each chapter a gateway
Musing on those she knew;
Represented by numbers
Individual, yet all the same
Your days are a never ending struggle
Rare in and of themselves
Bringing trouble;
Dog eared rationale
We seekers of solace
Take refuge in books
Understanding
Demanding
The next installment;
Flooding our lives
with fantasies
Cocooned
In our chrysalis
Reading brings change
And knowledge
From page to page
We analyse
Plot, scene, age
Apply the theatre to our lives
And sit, thinking for a while
Read between the lines
Crime, thriller, romance
Happenstance
That could be our lives
Yet sky so grey
Overcast
Reprimanding
We sit, dreaming...
Some day.
Jun 17, 2015
Jun 17, 2015 at 11:42 AM UTC
Proem
After Sir Thomas recovered the Spear of Destiny and returned it to the Pope at the Vatican in Rome, he remained there for several months serving His Excellency, attending meetings, and recovering from several minor injuries sustained while recapturing the Spear that pierced the side of Jesus the Messiah. Sir Thomas could have stayed as a guest of the pope in one of their lush suites, but he chose the bare walls of a guest bedroom at the local Knights Templar castle. The pope then called upon him for his next assignment: Leave Rome immediately, by boat, again, back to Constantinople. “Head off a Scot by the name of Sir Robert Bruce, whom our intel indicates has a map and is currently on his way in search for the Holy Grail. Sir Robert is a stubborn ally. You will help Sir Robert, but convince him that the chalice of Jesus belongs here in Rome.”
Prior to shoving off the west coast of Italy, a few miles from Rome, Sir Thomas wrote the following message, and placed it in a bottle.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My dear sweet wife and babe within her womb
The five long years since I had lost you both
I prayed for inner peace despite my joy
Your both in heaven; worship Thee Most High
Because your love exceeds all life itself
My lips will glorify you ever more
I praise you for the rest; my living days
Your name I lift on high with my bare hands
Was on my bed that I remember you
I think of you the watches of the night
The shadow of your wings I cling my soul
The depths of which my sword shall honor thee
I yearn affections taste where two come one
The seed by faith that yields abundant life
Endures celestial kingdom's perfect place
It brings this missive to its endless oath:
To bless, release my restless heart that bleeds
Commit my swords allegiance to the Lord
To you Dagung the earth is smaller still
For every inch be searched to see your face
You disappeared, not dead but still alive
I feel the transom temper my resolve
For in this ship another search begins
The Holy Grail; Dagung I'll find you both
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Postscript
I toss the bottle through the wind to stormy sea
Inside the missive of a knight in love with thee
__________________________________________
Dec 15, 2015
Dec 15, 2015 at 2:00 PM UTC
thy kingdom come
thy will take place
selling health at a premium
to the human race
forgive us our debts
from thy mighty hand
or at least allow us
an installment plan
give us our daily meds
but deliver us from evil
by providing generic instead
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 1:56 PM UTC
Caught in a bind
The girl wish she could rewind
Coming to this Crazy Cool world
But the thoughts of them ran through her mind
She was so intrigued by the author for his creativity
Yet she's smitten by the town's sheriff she wants to indulge on her naivety
She had been coming and going so much that she lost a sense of what was real and what was fake
The more time she spent in this fantasy world the more she could relate
The more she fell in love
The more she felt torn
Finally the two of them gave her an ultimatum
"Listen to my heart" said the author verbatim
I was drawn to you before and after bringing you to this world
I only wanted you to be my one and only girl
So would you please give me a chance
At your heart and give in to true love's romance
"Listen to my soul" the sheriff said with a gaze. It's been but a moment, but I've loved you for days. I see it in your eyes that you see the magic in this world. So stand by my side and be my Crazy Cool girl."
Time stood still as they waited for her decision
What is she going to do?
"I choose...."
Gonna have to wait for installment 2
Feb 2, 2015
Feb 2, 2015 at 11:47 AM UTC
We’re like tramps living in this half-furnished house
taking two-mouthful shots outta that big old bottle
playing 8-bit games in between smoke breaks
And when we feel like dancing the house will shake
letting the primal urge take we throw ourselves around
the basement room empty save a couch, the speakers
and some ****** art installment we are still painting
There’s a pile of us on the extra mattress in the laundry room
talking about hopes and dreams for a new life
****** out of old nests, we build our own in the ***** clothes
someone starts crying
I swear I’m in love with every person in the room.
It’s time for another pack or two of smokes for the boys
So we wipe our tears and snot and leave the nest
to run down the 4 am streets with no shoes
sparkling in starlight like vagabonds.
And I turn to my shoeless friend and say:
We could live like this.
Home to a half-furnished house, muffled in sleep-sighs
the couches, the chairs are draped with passed out kids
I cover them with sheets and blankets and kiss every one goodnight
Even the mattress in the laundry room is full
so we lay out a blanket and throw pillows in front of the ****** art installment
sleeping in just shorts, as the heat wave holds the town
the boys let me on top of the dog-pile because I’m smallest
and because in the morning I’ll wake up to make them breakfast.
Jul 23, 2011
Jul 23, 2011 at 12:12 PM UTC
celine wrote some thick books
'Death On The Installment Plan'
'Journey To The End Of Night'
my plan was to read them but i never did
i got as far as the titles
then got stuck
they've been packed away in boxes
for the past 5 years,
i had no need to unpack them
maybe if they had been thinner
what can i do
what can i do
i just don't want to
i just don't want to
everyday i feel so unheld
together
life after life
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 3:56 AM UTC
No no, don't ***** the lid on the jar of M&M;'s
Just set it on top so when I go to grab the jar
it rainbows everywhere
Decorating the floor
I didn't want any
They were just the only form of chocolate in this place
this godforsaken apartment where you've come to die
I'm a temporary installment
Until my wings are dry
I just want a respite from the hustle and bustle
Isolating myself in your sewing room
I ignore the world, only leaving for necessity
I just crave sweets and heavy music
All I have is my music
You had M&Ms;
But don't worry
I didn't want them
May 3, 2014
May 3, 2014 at 12:09 PM UTC
I don't like it !
Seriously, there's nothing all that great about it
It's all been seen, heard and done before
Everybody uses elaborate words to flaunt their knowledge in a field where intelligence is merit
Everybody uses dumbed down banalities to come across as the everyman, being outrages, yet funny
A cliché of a cliché
Oh' what a great life, but not really !
The newest installment of this comes as no surprise
In todays paper of "ordinary boring", we are presented with the two new buzzwords of the day;
Positivity and Health
Have you run a marathon yet ?
Are you a negative influence on your work place ?
Guide: How to ignore the painful truth and create fake energy
Is there anything more pathetic than every person in the world lying to themselves.
If it's not the blatant ignorance of; world hunger, personal problems, true opinions, it's lying to everybody around you.
You hate that dress ! You think that he's pathetic ! You know **** well what you like, so don't refer to me as if you know what I want, think or need !
A dishonest world is the observer's nightmare
The observer's nightmare is a dishonest world
Observe Dishonest World
World Observe Dishonest
Dishonest World Observe
Which came first and how can it ever change ?
I dislike the pretty words, I dislike the sentiment of "good" and "nice", because I understand that it will not bring something new, a change or move anything or anyone. Sometimes to get better, you have to get bad, and even that is ignored, to obtain the status quo of that which will never remain.
What is the point ?
True emotion, true feelings, truth in general is good.
The naked, ugly, discarded, frantic, ****** irresponsible, amputated and lonely truth.
TRY IT !
Oct 7, 2013
Oct 7, 2013 at 2:13 PM UTC
I wake in a rage!
A poacher has dared step foot in this,
my City. It is just not done.
The fool.
I will....extract....him tonight.
Are we that many, that we cannot stay at home?
He may be a rogue. If he is, all the better.
They tend to put up a fight.
I will toy with him. This rogue. This interloper.
Give him a small chance.
In the end I will **** him of course.
I will simply behead him.
Not such a hard task. But it is rather grisly.
Oh well. Off I go.
Now, just what does one wear to a messy beheading?
~Lord Kellington
This is the second installment from the Diary of Lord Kellington
and my Halloween offering for Oct. 14th
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 6:03 PM UTC
I could disappear
Go off somewhere
And write/
Write to excite
Write to exceed
Write for the world
Write to the extreme/
Write into the belly of the beast
Feast
this would be undeniable/
For the pen these words I am held accountable/
liable
but it's only write no more or less/if I left would you think of me any more or less/
if I got lost in my dreams consumed by the prose/
no distraction after a year or two maybe I suppose/
with in that Amount of time what I could compose/
novel a best seller turn movie that would gross/
a considerable amount with my un orthodox approach/
so much bread I could absolutely positively loaf/
instead I'll prepare for the next installment /
cause the words keep calling/
the pen don't rehab that's write falling/
into a trap last time I quit I ran write back/
I'm addicted that's the first step to the addiction
the admittance/
these pictures got me depicting just to elicit/
did you react? /
Yea write or **** write it's all writes with me/
I'll die fighting for my writes my write to be/
my write to dream
My write of free
so if I go off and it feels not write and your looking for me/
this is the map you know write write where I'll be!
Aug 15, 2016
Aug 15, 2016 at 8:14 AM UTC
(This is the second installment of a two part piece. Please read first Cut Apart.)
He takes up a needle
Threaded with a glimmering strand of surety
Pierces my pink flesh, tender,
already thrumming with awareness
Following my self-otomy,
I would not have thought
to feel any more pain
But there it is
Slight, though
And a relief each time
he pulls the wounds closed
I observe the first sutures,
calmed by his confidence
Puncture,
pull,
puncture--
He hands me the needle
I can't expect someone else to do all the healing
I pull the thread taut
We alternate for a while,
him piercing, me nipping
And then, before I pinch another hurt closed,
I reach in to extract the dead bits of my soul,
blackened with disuse
Refuse now,
no need to carry these within me
Pull
I am now devoted to my task
Bruises fading already
Some gashes will forever remain a softer pink testament
to true traumas
But no more concern if I will heal properly,
no thought of chronic infection
I have been forced to analyze my frayed heartstrings
Some scars I bear, but as I am stitched up
I become my own inoculation
My soul's surgeon
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 4:14 AM UTC
i. Soft, pink petals drift in circles on the lazy breeze.
Birds sing as they chase each other across the blue sky.
Sharp, green blades of grass tickle the back of my neck.
The sun is bright, so I keep my eyes closed.
Winter has fled in the face of a glorious spring.
ii. A sad girl with a beautiful smile shares this room with me.
Her life is made of empty fun, empty loves, and empty bottles.
She paints her face to cover the darkness around her eyes.
But concealer can't succeed in hiding the darkness in them.
iii. You can't call someone else irresponsible when you act like you do. When you can count your empty glasses, you can try again.
iv. Floating in the clear, cold water, with the sun beating down on my face, I escape. I have no worries, no distractions, no obligations. I let the scalding rays burn freckles into my nose. I let the waves spill into my eyes. I have no cares. I am infinite.
v. A word of advice to the male type of human: licking your lips at a passing girl doesn't make you attractive. It makes her want to take a shower. Alone.
vi. It's 4:13 and I'm still awake. I haven't been doing anything but staring at the ceiling since midnight. Why is it that in the dark, everything seems more real? 4:15..
May 7, 2013
May 7, 2013 at 10:17 PM UTC
Hello,
I would like to introduce you to a dear old friend of mine.
I made his acquaintance by pure accident. You might say, we bumped into each
other. Oh, silly me. You thought I speak of an actual person.
No. I hold here in my hands, a diary. Not just any diary filled with day to day
frilliness of a Victorian Lady. But, a diary filled with.......
Well, I guess you will have to just wait and read for yourself. I will just pick a page at
random to start out at.
The Gentleman who wrote these entries, is a man of many facets. He is kind;
frivolous; confident; an egotist. He can be filled with anger and then snap, just like
that, be his over the top self once more.
He is death himself. He is a Vampire.
Ladies and Gentlemen, I offer you a look into
The Diaries Of Lord Kellington
Whispers of the dawn rush to meet me each morn. They taunt and tease
me. "Morning is not long to come. Your time to play does run out".
Alas. Tis true. My time in the night is short. So I must hurry. Shall I prowl the night
as I? Or shall I don a disguise.
Once I think on it. Either way does not matter. There will be no eyes. None to see
after my "kiss". So sweet and gentle that sip.
It takes just a glance and the other night dwellers know to avoid me. They sense that
death is my shadow. Why! They couldn't be more right.
I will choose swiftly. So that I may go dance. Yes! I love to dance. Ah. The night is
my stage. Truth be told? I love it!
~Lord Kellington
Hello,
I hope you enjoyed the first installment of Lord Kellington's Diary. There are more to
come
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 6:01 PM UTC
we lived in the same house once-
he showed me how to break into my own room-
that's why i think he stole sixty bucks off me-
i guess it was a pre-installment-
a payment for a time somewhere down the line-
he swallowed his pride in order to swallow food that day-
yet he lied about his name-
i knew it-
i call him "the grifter"-
spring night crept in-
i hung out with him for most of the day-
i did not want to show him my sleeping spot-
i tried to make a break for it-
he followed-
in the end-
it was him that shared a sleeping spot-
we snaked ourselves into the transport-
quiet cozy i may say-
warm also-
i dreamed that he stole my last five bucks-
it was just a dream-
i don't think i have seen or talked to him since-
maybe i just walked the other way-
Sep 16, 2010
Sep 16, 2010 at 11:14 AM UTC
What poems do you write for me,
O sovereign brother?
What songs do you dedicate to me
without seeing my face
or knowing my name?
In what mercifully alien tongue
are your prayers of me spoken?
And by what brooks
and under which installment
of the universal moon do you stop
and pen the thoughts
of your heart to me?
In the broken colors of the earth,
I welcome you across the sea of souls
to read what I have put down
in my private books
in an ink thrice-strained by love.
Nov 11, 2010
Nov 11, 2010 at 1:55 PM UTC
It is a wrap
He roared
The tone of his voice
Echoed
The ending unfair
When wished upon a star
May it have been
Different
Now the director dear
Writing a sequel
When long it was clear
There was nothing else
The same actors
A similar decor
And the question burns
Is this setting worth revisiting
Hear the doubt
The first installment
Known to be difficult
To top
There is a twist
He roars
The tone of his voice
Echoes
The resolution incomplete
My curiosity wins
Convince me
Let us shoot the rest of the story.
Oct 20, 2014
Oct 20, 2014 at 7:37 AM UTC
(This is the first installment of a two part piece; see next Together Again.)
He pins me down
his gaze binding me more than any straps
My eyes skitter away until
crack
A fissure spiderwebs across my shell
Slowly the cleaving begins
A dull burn
Picking at scabs and old hurts
Layers I've grown over myself
are peeled away at his words
"Who gave you this one?"
"Why did you let them?"
"Who are you?"
"What do you want?"
"Who do you want to be?"
"Why?"
"Why not?"
Raw
Vulnerable
I strain to look away, run away, anything
But he makes me look
His look makes me look
At my insides
The queer pulsing of my wants and hopes,
seem almost foreign,
it's been so long since we've been acquainted
The wounds I thought would never heal,
or had finally healed,
or have almost healed
And there they are again, exposed
The tears burn, and I try to look instead
Inside my mind
Turn it off
They don't still hurt
They never did
They never meant much
But still they ache
It's darker in there, inside my mind
and if I stare too long, the darkness will creep again
Can't hide within
Can't look without
And a whimper escapes my throat
as I yearn for a salve, and a salvation
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 4:13 AM UTC
Another installment of this session
brief period of breaking
we'll just call it the depression
I'm strong I can teach
but it was time I learned a lesson
that girl she's out of reach
but I can count that as a blessing.
I hit the gym
to try to get this weight down
I'm getting slim
3x's are becoming like night gowns
all this to take my mind off her
yeah it must be fate now
I wanted to negotiate
but the thought just caused my breakdown...
Jul 17, 2013
Jul 17, 2013 at 9:29 AM UTC
I sense compliance when I am reading.
I just like characters.
I let the characters do what they would do and I don’t ask any questions.
I laugh out loud, a lot, at some of the things they do, but I don’t normally get frustrated.
I feel my stomach churn nervously with each new installment.
I’m physically stressed out by the genius.
When I look up and stare at the room, no one is looking at me.
No one cares, and if they saw me, they’d think I was nuts.
Or at least a quarter loony.
The background noise of my rapid epiphanies is a woman asking about a continental breakfast.
My stomach is acting up so much.
I just feel nervous a lot.
All I can do at this point is stare at the beautiful lack of color,
of a rain-washed, dim, quarter to five evening.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 4:50 PM UTC
Death came on this night.
But it was not by my hand.
He had been a friend.
Those that sought vengeance on me,
found I had one weakness.
One for a mortal.
He had been as a father,
for Thirty plus years.
Although he asked no questions,
he knew I was....different.
They used him to trap me.
But I knew this day would come.
I dreaded it so.
I killed the three who dared try.
It came at a precious price.
I have one regret,
other than his cruel ******
While he lay dying.
He saw the monster I am
and his eyes showed fear of me.
~Lord Kellington
This is the fourth installment from
The Diaries Of Lord Kellington
Oct 18, 2010
Oct 18, 2010 at 6:06 PM UTC
What a discovery
In between
Those yellowy perfumed pages
Of Tom Sawyer.
Your two-dimensional form undeterred
From your first installment of life
Some thirty odd years ago.
Immortal shell, you
Unlike your wind torn
Finally winter buried friends
Now of new purpose - As ornament,
As fossil, own a new beauty.
I dare not peel your fragility,
Your thin, dried silk like skin.
The new epoch which has now found you,
Daisy and Forget-me-not entwined
In still-life, frozen, embraced;
I gently close the book, closing
Your new chapter against the page
Leaving you for the next to discover.
Jun 30, 2015
Jun 30, 2015 at 8:17 PM UTC
The whizzing work on wondrous display
Buzzing and flashing throughout the day
A shocking harmony with dire attention
In tribute to word or sad photo mention
Bring upon us the fizzling sharp memory
Three years ago august scratched in emery
Shuttled by in a long dazing shot of light
Longing to see what is no longer in sight
Instead a meandering, grazing installment
Mocking this week's newest involvement
From highest perch, a moralizing parlance
No question or thought to odd circumstance
Just spill the word behind digitizing partition
And don't go on with even another mention
Here is what's today, vaporizing tomorrow
Another page atop the pile of deluded sorrow
Jan 24, 2017
Jan 24, 2017 at 9:14 AM UTC
of a lengthy discourse
he did verily imbibe
twas truly a prolonged
kind of scribe
a succinct version
he could have easily writ
to convey the meaningfulness
of the message he wanted to knit
ever did the wordage
keep on continually rolling
there twas little or no break
from the tiring scrolling
on and on
and well beyond
oh how he delighted in holding us
with his infinite bond
some pruning and trimming
twas needed on his expansive stanzas
as the dashed things
were growing like ivy bonanzas
nowt did stop him
he pursued an exhausting trail
without reigning in its
million mile grail
the reading journey he took us on
did stretch out
of that there is most certainly
no doubt
his next installment
twill be another extended sound byte
one which will linger
unto the late hours of night
one awaits to sight and marvel
with much anticipation
at him displaying
his protracted dissertation
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 6:50 PM UTC