"lauding" poems
London,
Beating heart of England,
Charismatic time-capsule thrumming to its own rhythm,
History looming, akin to massive waves splashing down,
Drenching all, the unwary, the scholar, soaking it up,
Savouring every scintillating droplet, blissful, hopeful,
Weaving through lives, changing with every moment,
Variety of race and creed, intermingling, jostling, noticing,
Sharing sight, sound, colour, scents, smiles and frowns,
Pulsing soul of people, thriving and alive, buzzing with spirit,
In Camden, easy-going, a friendly riot of textured-hazy-peace,
Artful structures of Belgravia, magnolia temples of affluence,
Lauding architectural finery while mere mortals pass through,
Mind swinging through centuries, flowing along the river artery,
Bridges carrying us home, keeping their own dark secrets,
Cranes rising high, creating modern palaces, new beginnings,
Old lives wreathed in the foggy past of legendry deeds,
Embellished beyond reality, ghosts crying out, warning,
We can never own this city, never know this city, not really,
Guardian dragon allows us entrance, pours herself upon us,
Takes our love, progresses while we observe,
All left behind, knowing, feeling, sensing,
We are but shadows in her Light,
Dust on her famous streets,
Blessed to know her,
To breathe her,
Love her,
London.
©Paul Chafer 2014
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 3:49 PM UTC
Art would last forever
But i learned feelings don't always do
And even if i painted you in hues
With every classic medium of art
This old tradition of painting
You on my canvas
As well, would never last
And even if i used digital art now
Where it would be fast
To bring you back
Reminded me that
This love faded faster
And this advanced way
Of lauding my love for you
Would never really make me move on
Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 6:48 AM UTC
Pt.1
Love is a race
Gun fire to exhaustion
With runners, the lovers,
Kicking up rocks.
Digging, digging,
The stretch in sight
The thing, their body straining with all their might
And the crowd all cheering
The race neck and neck
Lauding the winner, he loved
Gets the medal in his hands
I’m watching the celebration
Back at the start
I didn’t even move
Didn’t even start
Pt2.
I knew I’d crush
If Hope were involved
That *******
Held my hand
And told me it was hers
Though the door is tightly shut
That hope it still lingers
Last string on my harp, plucked clean
Hook, line, and ******* sinker.
Pt3.
Congratulations,
I hope he treats you well
I’ll retreat, again, to my little hell
Just goes to show the value
Of patience.
Enjoy each other, please.
Congratulations.
Pt4.
I never thought I’d win
And yet certain you’d be mine
Your boyfriend told me
Wordlessly
Just how pointless
Trying is.
Pt5.
Son-of-a-bitch,
I’m a loser again.
Who ******* cares?
We’ve all got our pain.
I’m nothing special,
But he certainly is.
Pt6.
Why am I ********
About this common occurrence?
It happens all the time—
All for naught
My romance.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:50 PM UTC
Who, me. I don't know,
I'll ask We, the people.
How has the world,
the one we share, you with me, I with thee,
how has our reality
come to today
surrounded by hooting proud warriors lauding their leaders
made kings by the magi and the tax collectors and spenders?
That's the question.
I think it's a test, or a temptation, knowing the answer might **** us.
Do the math, or believe an expert who says
he knows he knows, an
experienced thinker and weigher of big ideas.
Choose an expert, Yahoo, Goggle experts in interesting time one.
You choose.
Only for now. These teasing toy journeys are only real
in your way of thinking.
An expert in words at play or
an expert in words of war
or work or woe or
joy and
strength'n'vigorishit--
use-ery compounded into stone
an expert in dark, full-on absense of light, al
right, al
ready -- the expert
you let be smarter than you, by God, or any other witness,
that expert better be having more than historical authority, okeh.
Gears used to grind, stick-shift,
yoost to lever m'thematically synchronized
wheels in wheels,
lesser gears, experienced old grease monkey knows,
between those,
is where m'monkey wrench goes.
Bring wheels in wheels to a screeching halt!
Like by the River of Tebar, very hard to write such thoughtscenes,
he trys, um-phailure, deep breath,
look around, selah.
Kiss the son, taste the son, know the son as brother, as gotchabacker
friend, who is the way, the truth, and the life.
No lie is of the truth. There is a basic algorythm in 2019.
AND in 2019 I have an idea that works for me,
the null set can hold any evil any mind, mortal or otherwise,
can conceive.
Napoleon Hill seeds sometimes sown as weeds to choke a crop of lies,
"What the mind of man can conceive, it can acheive."
Ah, so:
Man as a whole, he is thought to have meant, mankind, wombed and un;
but he may have meant man as in, any one man, wombed or un.
--- end first course --- recycle all utensils
May 21, 2019
May 21, 2019 at 12:58 PM UTC
There were hills on hills on hills
And desire that nonstop spills
Runs down my legs to the floor
Once strong legs now sore
There was sweat that built
And beauty that me killed
Slays me on the bed
Pillow encroached by my head
There were mountains and more
Traversing was most pleasant chore
Whose peaks were red and base white
Which were held by me all the night
And the mountains met my body
And I couldn't stop my lauding
Words broke out from my mouth
Then I visited the country south
That sheath, that wonderful invisible
That head on top so visible
The member to meet her
The man-defeater
There was a statue on the day bed
More beautifully sculpted than the David
She was a moment, a wonder, a blessing
A memory awaiting caressing
A photo beyond my description
Light made its prescription
To love and to cherish the treasure
That exceeds all possible measure
Nov 8, 2018
Nov 8, 2018 at 2:17 PM UTC
I seek to sing in praise of You
But my tongue will wither,dry.
I long to write odes and verses,
lauding You,
but
the world of its ink,I would deprive.
Extolling You is like giving the ocean a droplet.
Would the Sun be made splendid by my lit candle?
But my soul is soothed by an answer from You,
"Your failure to praise is praise enough."
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 4:55 AM UTC
So, grasshopper....
What is love / to someone who is complaining?
Screaming. Wailing / Proudly prevailing / loudly Reprimanding
Or commanding Bounded feet
Pushing.
Shushing in rushing / Busiest with everyone else's business
Pushing.
Dumbfoundedly Enforcing. Forcing / mindlessly divorcing meaning?
Not knowing / Rather assuming or presuming
To speak not for himself
Instead for us, lauding law, howling for god
What is it without making / any sense? /
Having no reason?
What is love if only a word /
Sung or graffiti tag on walls / Ave. 3rd / blurbs
So to speak / a word / whispers...
Write or read / Flat screen / one dimensional unexperienced /
Word up / Another billboard's Loud propaganda
"Unt wonderbar sinfully delicious"
You will OBEY
Says snickers /
Harangue of commands
The replete of a single word / repeat
"Believe"
On and on / carrying calm
And what is forever to an insect? With brief breath
Vampyric Parasitic Abuzz
Without purpose but swarm
Wasted waning / Locust death Landscapes / we barely notice
Cherish just a starving word
So goes my question / Unanswered. Kept
distant. Unproven / underserved
The point is moot /
What is love / To you?
Without proof Without life
What are eyes without the light ?
What is love if nothing / If never born
A mind Emotes / oceans / swells /
Love ....
The tiniest of tempests
One thought becomes a storm
Felt Like dreams / Stars for diamond tears
Energy in living form... now asking why / Are we here?
No doubt It is to know love
And so... What is a good word?
Truth (the word of god)
Namaste
The eyes wordlessly say
Love light: Our beautiful day.
With every storm loud with thunder
A serenity found / Amidst All Life's blunders
So jump for joy, grasshopper... Being loved is like being found.
Finally seeing the awe and the wonder.
The clarity of a mind's eye, life is the dream
breathless heart you must plunder.
Fight fire not with fire, but with water
that which you can have but cannot hold...
and what is love
if not sharing a drink
like every storm
we all are wet underneath
like every heart must sometimes think
we will wake already ashore
inhale this gift - the perfect time is now
because this is love, grasshopper
and we are the tempest
the hearts who think...
This must be love
having been
given everything?
my cup is filled by heaven's rain
no fear of death, but war and pain...
the storm swims with / in /
you.
But you're a beautiful day.
Dec 23, 2015
Dec 23, 2015 at 9:19 PM UTC
None sob for the hero
When at last, his end he meets
No remembrances for deeds long done
Only lauding of defeat
No parades or tickertape
Or maybe moonlight vigils
Just a simple wooden box
And a few religious symbols
And everyone's a saint
And everyone's a martyr-
Brother, sister, mother
Son or daughter, father
For when Death finally comes
And surely takes us all,
No one weeps for any
When the last one finally falls
No one mourns the common man
No fanfare at his death
Just complacence and contempt
And softly veiled regret.
Jan 3, 2016
Jan 3, 2016 at 4:57 AM UTC
Disciplined with life’s goals, but lauding the journey the more important.
Goals, focused and carefully chosen: the way rigidly planned and marked: milestoned and measured.
Socially supported, to soothe wounded hands and lift weary feet; justified pleasures in righteous social schadenfreude, as goads to keep and help deviants in their Chosen Ways.
So much fear in the whims of the seductive winds: shunning strange shores, sallying strong and bold, with sendoffs and fanfare, into the wilderness, just beyond your garden’s walls.
We cannot see what we cannot see. As truths are inaccessible to reasons, so wisdom, unsearchable. And who knows if the unknowable fickle winds is for or against us.
When the wind blows, persistent, strong and consistent, even to the Moon is without doubt. Then the winds died.
Your boat absolutely still, your sail limp and lifeless; not a ripple from horizon to horizon, not a sympathetic cloud in the brazen blue sky. The food’s out, the water’s low, a day or two, at most.
Sun shines impartial with no fear nor favor, as blindfolded Justice dispensing justice. Nights, frigidly cold, and time ceased.
The journey will always be: goal or no goals, socially supported or as a lone nomad: the wind blows, always and irresistibly, never futile. Walking in fear and trembling the only wise, for all else, futility.
Jun 1, 2019
Jun 1, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
Ladies and Gentleman, esteemed friends and collaborators, we find ourselves beset once more by a particular individual's overwhelmingly perverse actions of self-aggrandizement. Yes indeed, there is a stranger here among us, a purveyor of hate and dismissal, lauding his own horrifying mimicry of poetry as the makings of a legend. I will not foul my words by speaking his thrice-accursed name, and in truth, there is no need. Any one of us who has found our heart-wrought pages smeared by the childish, aristocratic and may I say it, disgusting blabberings of this ill-begotten rake shall know exactly of whom it is I speak. And I speak in ernest, terrible ernest, against this self-proclaimed genius against whom we worthless ants are compared as to a god. And in the name of humanitas and libertas we tolerate his vile ravings and insensate curses thrown toward us as if we were nothing but cattle. Why? Because we believe in something that he will never be able to understand or appreciate, the very concept of a community throws him into confusion and fear. People are dying in the streets in the name of everything that we here stand for and he has the audacity, nay, the pompousness to assault my friends in the only haven some of them have ever known. Some of you may retain your hope for him and your patience in light of his narcissism. I however, have lost my patience and will tolerate it no longer. I consider it my duty to counter his message of hate wherever I find it. I urge you all to do the same.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 11:59 PM UTC
So, grasshopper....
What is love / to someone who is complaining?
Screaming. Wailing / Proudly prevailing / loudly Reprimanding
Or commanding Bounded feet
Pushing.
Shushing in rushing / Busiest with everyone else's business
Pushing.
Dumbfounded yet Enforcing.
Forcing / mindlessly
divorcing meaning?
Not knowing / Rather assuming or presuming
To speak not for himself
Instead for us, lauding law, howling for god
What is it without making / any sense? /
Having no reason?
What is love if only a word /
Sung or graffiti tag on walls / Ave. 3rd / blurbs
So to speak / a word / whispers...
Write or read / Flat screen / one dimensional unexperienced /
Word up / Another billboard's Loud propaganda
"Unt wonder-bar sinfully delicious"
You will OBEY
Says snickers /
Harangue of commands
The replete of a single word / repeat
"Believe"
On and on / carrying calm
And what is forever to an insect? With brief breath
Vampiric Parasitic Abuzz
Without purpose but swarm
Wasted waning / Locust death Landscapes / we barely notice
Cherish just a starving word
So goes my question / Unanswered. Kept
distant. Unproven / underserved
The point is moot /
What is love / To you?
Without proof Without life
What are eyes without the light ?
What is love if nothing / If never born
A mind Emotes / oceans / swells /
Love ....
The tiniest of tempests
One thought becomes a storm
Felt Like dreams / Stars for diamond tears
Energy in living form... now asking why / Are we here?
No doubt It is to know love
And so... What is a good word?
Truth (the word of god)
So jump for joy, grasshopper...
Being loved is like being found.
Finally seeing the awe and the wonder.
The clarity of a mind's eye,
life is the dream the heart you must plunder.
the perfect time is now
because this is love, grasshopper
and we are the tempest and peace
the hearts who think...
This must be love
Thank goodness/ for everything….
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 5:48 AM UTC
A distant rumble,
Only a tickle of memory,
Ages into it all from
Once callow disdain.
Hubris unrealized,
Now unspoken as
The hourglass grows heavier,
Evening thicker, and the
Lauding echoes
Diminish beyond summon.
Jan 19, 2018
Jan 19, 2018 at 1:34 PM UTC
Pout, with ought's body...
I host a calling wind
Simple service, a reaching for lauding
A haps, to look beyond kind
Does a shadow agree?
Dark somberness, satisfied
Only by sincerity
When strength showed a callous side...
To a world's wishes
Made to guide truth, like angels
With prettier advances, than life mentioned
More than else, a savior of spite, which fell...
Fell for a pouting love...
Perhaps the eye of tradition
Has the moment, we all long for; sovereign
History mutual, a living sulk to intimation
Somehow and always, prowess
Tenacious, worth a delight triumphant
Pride in its arrayed colors, surreal duress
To keep an attracted eye, with love's haunt
Mar 8, 2024
Mar 8, 2024 at 1:53 PM UTC
In quiet cessation of lauding
the lover bows his head, seeks
his simple lover's skin, meek
Wants only to touch, body to body
After a long and gruelling day, by
rain or by sunny shine, needing
only him, not what the lover has
or can bring but what he is - his lover
Dim, as night approaches but the day
Has just started for these two, awake
Taking each second, taking the other
in, slowly in, laughter, smile, causes
As the food cools, they sit, in jest
talk of the happenings, while away
Now cradling each other, by eyes
Meeting, glancing, not shy, wanting
The day is fast but their hearts beat
In sync, slowly, but fast, then slowly
Again, beat as lovers' hearts beat
Quiet noise, excited, longing
But impatiently patient, needy
But knows no need to rush
They have their whole lives
To spend, on tired, on busy,
On lazy, on happy, on rainy days
As today, as tonight, as every day
So long as him and his lover love
One another, and by work's end
Come home to catch up, and on
Each other, lay their day, start to rest.
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 8:21 AM UTC
Tangled in what we are
Dichotomous beings entwined
Inside and out
Front and back
Verisimilitudes patterns obscured
Presenting outward faces
Images woven in creams
Illusionary practices
Lauding the pomp and circumstance of life
Creating the iconic pictures of average
Yet underneath
Supported by our darkest threads
Is the true image
Worlds layered upon the one
Hidden, Blended, Shadowed
Vines of life bleeding out our
Slashes of vibrant color
Driven by ritual, pain and sacrifice
Interlaced, bound, knotted
Capturing the ghosting beauty
That is our reality
LAO Poetry 2016
Feb 28, 2017
Feb 28, 2017 at 8:09 PM UTC
Liberals love them—then they don’t.
And live to help them (till they won’t).
Neighbors fresh from Guatemala;
Salvador or Nicaragua…
Fleeing failed drug-plantations
U.S-sponsored situations;
Where corruption harvests fruits,
Doling out the business suits.
United Fruit Co. on the skids
Allen Dulles’ ******* kids . . .
For Arbenz overthrown, and worse
Our wicked past has caused this curse:
The training/arming of their thugs
Snorting about a War on Drugs…
Inform yourself on how this started
You, so smugly openhearted:
Aid diversity’s expansion—
House them in your sumptuous mansion.
Not to cut your grass, or build
but more to get their dream fulfilled
Since Allen Dulles owns the guilt
Destroying when we should have built
And sending troops to bananeros,
Lauding them as valiant heroes
For repressing Mayan peasants:
Help them now unwrap their presents.
Dec 6, 2023
Dec 6, 2023 at 6:53 PM UTC
You ripped us to shreds
For your tourniquet
Silenced us with your book,
Lauding it
Used your belt to whip us
Into your childhood
We fill ourselves with loathing
To hide it.
Yet, you are absolved from blame
As your fathers did the same
And now as we are older
Per tradition, carry the shame.
Jun 9, 2025
Jun 9, 2025 at 9:09 PM UTC