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"lording" poems
It wasnt long before the baluster flapped somewhere in the distance and Icarus knew how old he had been on the day of his birth. For whatever reason, the snow capped cappuccinos he had willfully destroyed in a heated debate on fiscal policy had him beginning again. Why was there always a beginning where there was an end? Fur traders used to circumnavigate the Hudson's Bay of his humanity when he was young, sharing drinks and fire water whiskey like it was all an H2O ready for the soul search. Sadly, many ended up in Hitlers concentration camps weeks after the **** invasion of Poland, about a month or so before the fall of the Roman Empire. Beginning with a last breath, Icarus strode off the plank with a new-found confidence unnatural in his niceties of long past. It was as if 1 minute and 35 seconds was enough to dish a clamouring populace onto the dinner table before the fat step-father gleefully orders everyone to 'dig in, everyone!' Cancelling everyone's appointment with Dr. Pardon meant the gaining of a key participatory certificate in El Dorado, and the gold lingering in dusty sun-beams was sifted for the taking. Some got rich, the rest got miserable. The rest used to imagine the gold, staring at ivory towers and lottery tickets, apple cores lording over old public servant applications near the city hall drain pipes as the modern world collapsed into a flash-mob image of Ronald Reagan. Icarus was a sliver of duskish light flittering a top distant windowsills, all cupped in an intentional light because happiness was as possible as sadness. Not that considering either would make you either. Icarus slept as his wings incinerated at the first glimpse of the solar system. He now believed every single proverb the old ***** slumbers had whispered their children as they woke to find themselves adults. In the beginning he found the beginning beginning again. It made him feel however you wish. Both were just as possible. Both were just as much a jazz configuration as a smooth and easy guitar rift. Ahha!
0
Apr 1, 2013
Apr 1, 2013 at 5:31 PM UTC
tread
Icarus Inside
It wasnt long before the baluster flapped somewhere in the distance and Icarus knew how old he had been on the day of his birth. For whatever reason, the snow capped cappuccinos he had willfully destroyed in a heated debate on fiscal policy had him beginning again. Why was there always a beginning where there was an end? Fur traders used to circumnavigate the Hudson's Bay of his humanity when he was young, sharing drinks and fire water whiskey like it was all an H2O ready for the soul search. Sadly, many ended up in Hitlers concentration camps weeks after the **** invasion of Poland, about a month or so before the fall of the Roman Empire. Beginning with a last breath, Icarus strode off the plank with a new-found confidence unnatural in his niceties of long past. It was as if 1 minute and 35 seconds was enough to dish a clamouring populace onto the dinner table before the fat step-father gleefully orders everyone to 'dig in, everyone!' Cancelling everyone's appointment with Dr. Pardon meant the gaining of a key participatory certificate in El Dorado, and the gold lingering in dusty sun-beams was sifted for the taking. Some got rich, the rest got miserable. The rest used to imagine the gold, staring at ivory towers and lottery tickets, apple cores lording over old public servant applications near the city hall drain pipes as the modern world collapsed into a flash-mob image of Ronald Reagan. Icarus was a sliver of duskish light flittering a top distant windowsills, all cupped in an intentional light because happiness was as possible as sadness. Not that considering either would make you either. Icarus slept as his wings incinerated at the first glimpse of the solar system. He now believed every single proverb the old ***** slumbers had whispered their children as they woke to find themselves adults. In the beginning he found the beginning beginning again. It made him feel however you wish. Both were just as possible. Both were just as much a jazz configuration as a smooth and easy guitar rift. Ahha!
Continue reading...
7
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died The darkest way, and did not turn away, A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride On that darkest day. Oh, forever may He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost Or still all the numberless days of his death, though Above all he longed for his mother's breast Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed. Let him find no rest but be fathered and found, I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed, In the muted house, one minute before Noon, and night, and light. The rivers of the dead Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea. (An old tormented man three-quarters blind, I am not too proud to cry that He and he Will never never go out of my mind. All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain, Being innocent, he dreaded that he died Hating his God, but what he was was plain: An old kind man brave in his burning pride. The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned. Even as a baby he had never cried; Nor did he now, save to his secret wound. Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide. Here among the light of the lording sky An old blind man is with me where I go Walking in the meadows of his son's eye On whom a world of ills came down like snow. He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres' Last sound, the world going out without a breath: Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears, And caught between two nights, blindness and death. O deepest wound of all that he should die On that darkest day. Oh, he could hide The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.
0
4k
Edna St. Vincent Millay
Elegy
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died The darkest way, and did not turn away, A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride On that darkest day. Oh, forever may He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost Or still all the numberless days of his death, though Above all he longed for his mother's breast Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed. Let him find no rest but be fathered and found, I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed, In the muted house, one minute before Noon, and night, and light. The rivers of the dead Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea. (An old tormented man three-quarters blind, I am not too proud to cry that He and he Will never never go out of my mind. All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain, Being innocent, he dreaded that he died Hating his God, but what he was was plain: An old kind man brave in his burning pride. The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned. Even as a baby he had never cried; Nor did he now, save to his secret wound. Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide. Here among the light of the lording sky An old blind man is with me where I go Walking in the meadows of his son's eye On whom a world of ills came down like snow. He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres' Last sound, the world going out without a breath: Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears, And caught between two nights, blindness and death. O deepest wound of all that he should die On that darkest day. Oh, he could hide The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.
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39
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died The darkest way, and did not turn away, A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride On that darkest day. Oh, forever may He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost Or still all the numberless days of his death, though Above all he longed for his mother's breast Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed. Let him find no rest but be fathered and found, I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed, In the muted house, one minute before Noon, and night, and light. The rivers of the dead Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea. (An old tormented man three-quarters blind, I am not too proud to cry that He and he Will never never go out of my mind. All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain, Being innocent, he dreaded that he died Hating his God, but what he was was plain: An old kind man brave in his burning pride. The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned. Even as a baby he had never cried; Nor did he now, save to his secret wound. Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide. Here among the light of the lording sky An old blind man is with me where I go Walking in the meadows of his son's eye On whom a world of ills came down like snow. He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres' Last sound, the world going out without a breath: Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears, And caught between two nights, blindness and death. O deepest wound of all that he should die On that darkest day. Oh, he could hide The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.
0
3k
Dylan Thomas
Elegy
Too proud to die; broken and blind he died The darkest way, and did not turn away, A cold kind man brave in his narrow pride On that darkest day. Oh, forever may He lie lightly, at last, on the last, crossed Hill, under the grass, in love, and there grow Young among the long flocks, and never lie lost Or still all the numberless days of his death, though Above all he longed for his mother's breast Which was rest and dust, and in the kind ground The darkest justice of death, blind and unblessed. Let him find no rest but be fathered and found, I prayed in the crouching room, by his blind bed, In the muted house, one minute before Noon, and night, and light. The rivers of the dead Veined his poor hand I held, and I saw Through his unseeing eyes to the roots of the sea. (An old tormented man three-quarters blind, I am not too proud to cry that He and he Will never never go out of my mind. All his bones crying, and poor in all but pain, Being innocent, he dreaded that he died Hating his God, but what he was was plain: An old kind man brave in his burning pride. The sticks of the house were his; his books he owned. Even as a baby he had never cried; Nor did he now, save to his secret wound. Out of his eyes I saw the last light glide. Here among the light of the lording sky An old blind man is with me where I go Walking in the meadows of his son's eye On whom a world of ills came down like snow. He cried as he died, fearing at last the spheres' Last sound, the world going out without a breath: Too proud to cry, too frail to check the tears, And caught between two nights, blindness and death. O deepest wound of all that he should die On that darkest day. Oh, he could hide The tears out of his eyes, too proud to cry.
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39
That phone call from my lawyer gave me the courage to enter the house where I raised both of my children and endured, in silence, the abuse of a controlling and angry husband who would eventually end our marriage. Twenty-five years ago, we married. The end came last spring, with papers from my lawyer stating unequivocally that my husband would have to surrender the keys to the house where our girls were subjected to his abuse. Nothing was more important than protecting my children. The most precious gift are my children who ironically, would not exist if this man I did not marry. Years ago, I could not know that in time, would come abuse. I was told by family and friends to get myself a lawyer and hold on to my dignity, my children, my home. I would raise, protect and nurture them myself, without a husband. Young girl’s fancies once danced in my head. To have a husband, to marry and live the American dream. Have children, a dog, a white picket fence surrounding the house. All would be well, in this happily-ever-after marriage. But, dreams turn to nightmares; the separation needs to be legal to help me through this veil of pain and abuse. For many things can be tolerated, but not abuse. Be it physical or mental, from boyfriend or husband The cycle needs to end, and therefore my lawyer Drew up the papers to protect me and my children and end an unraveling marriage. So that there would be peace in my home. Now my girls and I live together in our home, free from strife, bitterness and abuse. My prayer for them is that someday they will marry a man of strength and integrity, a husband a lover, a lifetime partner, loving her and his children. A life such as this will not need a lawyer. This is my tale of marriage, with children in the house when it’s necessary to hire a lawyer, to stop the abuse because of a controlling husband lording it over his children.
0
Mar 8, 2010
Mar 8, 2010 at 8:44 PM UTC
marlene-dunham-1
The White Pickett Fence - A Sestina
That phone call from my lawyer gave me the courage to enter the house where I raised both of my children and endured, in silence, the abuse of a controlling and angry husband who would eventually end our marriage. Twenty-five years ago, we married. The end came last spring, with papers from my lawyer stating unequivocally that my husband would have to surrender the keys to the house where our girls were subjected to his abuse. Nothing was more important than protecting my children. The most precious gift are my children who ironically, would not exist if this man I did not marry. Years ago, I could not know that in time, would come abuse. I was told by family and friends to get myself a lawyer and hold on to my dignity, my children, my home. I would raise, protect and nurture them myself, without a husband. Young girl’s fancies once danced in my head. To have a husband, to marry and live the American dream. Have children, a dog, a white picket fence surrounding the house. All would be well, in this happily-ever-after marriage. But, dreams turn to nightmares; the separation needs to be legal to help me through this veil of pain and abuse. For many things can be tolerated, but not abuse. Be it physical or mental, from boyfriend or husband The cycle needs to end, and therefore my lawyer Drew up the papers to protect me and my children and end an unraveling marriage. So that there would be peace in my home. Now my girls and I live together in our home, free from strife, bitterness and abuse. My prayer for them is that someday they will marry a man of strength and integrity, a husband a lover, a lifetime partner, loving her and his children. A life such as this will not need a lawyer. This is my tale of marriage, with children in the house when it’s necessary to hire a lawyer, to stop the abuse because of a controlling husband lording it over his children.
Continue reading...
39
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day, you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
0
Jan 29, 2014
Jan 29, 2014 at 2:11 PM UTC
ormond
Ode to the Otter
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day, you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
Continue reading...
11
i recall with a fondness blurred by years the town of my formative years in the mountains the heart of the table lands dissected by a highway it crouched, along the sides of a shallow valley i remember a greeness that came from the trees eucalypt and pine most prominent in my mind and the grass that grew lush and tall only to be mown each Saturday morn i remember churches and schools the wide expasnses of playing fields and parks with hurdygurdys and swings i remember the pool, that too turquoise rectangle, that glistened with wet invitation and on the highest peak the stolid grey water  tower lording it over all i remember rough tarmac under my feet, running from light pool to light pool at dusk and frost on picket fences in early mornings, like delicate sugar candy solidier braving the early sun our house, small on a large block with hydrangea at the front wisteria overtaking the fenceline an at the back door a concrete slab painted fire engine red, but faded to overipe watermlon pink poplar trees garding the back and the smell of onions burning on the grill hill's hoist with tennis ball and pantyhose standing  to silent attention and in the forground my brothers and clans playing football, league with passion and burgeoning skill all this comes to mind on a cold winter's day i may of come a long way but my heart still ties me to there and the memories make the knots
0
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 9:05 AM UTC
betterdays
ties that bind
i recall with a fondness blurred by years the town of my formative years in the mountains the heart of the table lands dissected by a highway it crouched, along the sides of a shallow valley i remember a greeness that came from the trees eucalypt and pine most prominent in my mind and the grass that grew lush and tall only to be mown each Saturday morn i remember churches and schools the wide expasnses of playing fields and parks with hurdygurdys and swings i remember the pool, that too turquoise rectangle, that glistened with wet invitation and on the highest peak the stolid grey water  tower lording it over all i remember rough tarmac under my feet, running from light pool to light pool at dusk and frost on picket fences in early mornings, like delicate sugar candy solidier braving the early sun our house, small on a large block with hydrangea at the front wisteria overtaking the fenceline an at the back door a concrete slab painted fire engine red, but faded to overipe watermlon pink poplar trees garding the back and the smell of onions burning on the grill hill's hoist with tennis ball and pantyhose standing  to silent attention and in the forground my brothers and clans playing football, league with passion and burgeoning skill all this comes to mind on a cold winter's day i may of come a long way but my heart still ties me to there and the memories make the knots
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64
*Leaving the windows open and the miles the same as black waters curl between our southern toes. The long way to you is engorged with short speech and our blathering tongues well versed in ****** memes. We are not without design. but we assume the worst, regardless... farm our beetles to the sticking place and etch firebrands in orchids lording over under-frost and deplorable sins. we grieve as we ****** shame from the wick of burning candles... at both Ends. our every scandal, more luscious than desolation would have Us both. we choke on the plumes of our disconnect and close our Throats. And leave again Love's Ghost.*
0
Apr 19, 2016
Apr 19, 2016 at 1:07 AM UTC
third-eye-candy
A Cluster Of Diaspora
*Leaving the windows open and the miles the same as black waters curl between our southern toes. The long way to you is engorged with short speech and our blathering tongues well versed in ****** memes. We are not without design. but we assume the worst, regardless... farm our beetles to the sticking place and etch firebrands in orchids lording over under-frost and deplorable sins. we grieve as we ****** shame from the wick of burning candles... at both Ends. our every scandal, more luscious than desolation would have Us both. we choke on the plumes of our disconnect and close our Throats. And leave again Love's Ghost.*
Continue reading...
28
The absorbent two-ply quilted southern sky was soaking up the pre-dawn rays as we were pushing our broken green four-wheeled machine southbound on Bruce B. Downs taking up the curbside lane Our shirts were becoming stained with humid profanities despite the fan blade traffic throwing a slight breeze We were slurping brackish blacktop steam from the air plodding like the Hillsborough toward our destination My mind was already sauntering back toward a broken green futon sitting in the section-eight, eviction evaded, apartment Out the window cross-bred ducks were lording over scrawny, pseudo-feral worm host cats for which the knockabout neighbors kept a litter box outside
0
Jan 20, 2011
Jan 20, 2011 at 6:45 AM UTC
r-clair-marsh-1
The Hell with the Rabbits; All I See Are Gray Squirrels
The absorbent two-ply quilted southern sky was soaking up the pre-dawn rays as we were pushing our broken green four-wheeled machine southbound on Bruce B. Downs taking up the curbside lane Our shirts were becoming stained with humid profanities despite the fan blade traffic throwing a slight breeze We were slurping brackish blacktop steam from the air plodding like the Hillsborough toward our destination My mind was already sauntering back toward a broken green futon sitting in the section-eight, eviction evaded, apartment Out the window cross-bred ducks were lording over scrawny, pseudo-feral worm host cats for which the knockabout neighbors kept a litter box outside
Continue reading...
14
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day,                               you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
0
Jul 22, 2012
Jul 22, 2012 at 1:34 PM UTC
ormond
Ode to the Otter
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day,                               you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
Continue reading...
11
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day, you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
0
Dec 12, 2014
Dec 12, 2014 at 12:01 PM UTC
ormond
Ode to the Otter
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day, you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
Continue reading...
11
. River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day,                               you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
0
Sep 19, 2013
Sep 19, 2013 at 3:48 PM UTC
ormond
Ode to the Otter
. River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day,                               you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
Continue reading...
12
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day, you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
0
Mar 22, 2013
Mar 22, 2013 at 12:31 PM UTC
ormond
Ode to the Otter
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day, you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
Continue reading...
11
we were older then. you with your horn-rimmed glasses sleek as Hermes, resting on your button nose; dazzling. your eyes were smoldering echoes, far off on a quest for visions. mine were nowhere to be seen. we poured over volumes of antiquity, blazoned with rich art. Faustian marvels, leather bound and noble. we traipsed the gallows of Dry Humors, lording it over the gremlins of our isolation. we had not been formally introduced and everything was formal. we haunted the halls; our school of fish eyes sparkling; weaving like serpents in the heather on ether. we roamed the hallowed ground on secret missions without Love. then i asked you out. and changed the world.
0
Jan 16, 2013
Jan 16, 2013 at 1:46 PM UTC
third-eye-candy
School Of Fish Eyes
we were older then. you with your horn-rimmed glasses sleek as Hermes, resting on your button nose; dazzling. your eyes were smoldering echoes, far off on a quest for visions. mine were nowhere to be seen. we poured over volumes of antiquity, blazoned with rich art. Faustian marvels, leather bound and noble. we traipsed the gallows of Dry Humors, lording it over the gremlins of our isolation. we had not been formally introduced and everything was formal. we haunted the halls; our school of fish eyes sparkling; weaving like serpents in the heather on ether. we roamed the hallowed ground on secret missions without Love. then i asked you out. and changed the world.
Continue reading...
16
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day, you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
0
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 1:47 PM UTC
ormond
Ode to the Otter
River gift, flowing upstream and down Cresting with the bumpy waters tow, Slick as an eel, you move and fro to play, Warm in the gleaming sun that rides With you each day, you have shone, great Knowledge of salmon, found the pearl In the dark mussel, bend as even light Must, piercing the waters of the under- World, lording the fey, riparian borders, Like a God.
Continue reading...
11
Tony was an attorney, torn between his morals. He could close cases cleanly, no matter the quarrel. But his impeccable character creates a dilemma; Tony always noticed, as he sat down for dinner, defeat, nepotism, ignorance abound. Astounded that injustice was easily found. As label managers drugged and ***** judges excused it, by calling it fate. Men lording it over with promotions in their pants, while Trump's on TV, with his bigoted rants. Tony feared for the future, mutual destruction was near. In fact it's probably probable it happens this year. He wanted to vent pent up feelings, so he refused the judge's shady dealings. He lost cases but not cause, won activist's applause. For the rights of the ignored, he'd draw attention to the laws, that were unfair or unjust. With his heart and his soul, Tony won our trust.
0
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 3:34 PM UTC
firemind
Hot Dog
Tony was an attorney, torn between his morals. He could close cases cleanly, no matter the quarrel. But his impeccable character creates a dilemma; Tony always noticed, as he sat down for dinner, defeat, nepotism, ignorance abound. Astounded that injustice was easily found. As label managers drugged and ***** judges excused it, by calling it fate. Men lording it over with promotions in their pants, while Trump's on TV, with his bigoted rants. Tony feared for the future, mutual destruction was near. In fact it's probably probable it happens this year. He wanted to vent pent up feelings, so he refused the judge's shady dealings. He lost cases but not cause, won activist's applause. For the rights of the ignored, he'd draw attention to the laws, that were unfair or unjust. With his heart and his soul, Tony won our trust.
Continue reading...
50
Lording over...my estate...striding--a parasol of death spreads overhead. Bones buckle, breath labors...an idiotic sky broken a china doll blue. Spiritual masteries whistle...sutra their wind... there's nowhere to go--an attending red goes black...a soul-rending idleness...my subjects shall remain heifers. Dotting my regal garden...dotting my regal garden--with their fruitlessness. Lording over... my estate...striding--a parasol of death spreads overhead--pronounced gloriously...the involuntary ratiocination of my being in the minds of others...how dear... how fitting am I...today I shall end my life.
0
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 8:15 PM UTC
Onoma
Lording Over
Lording over...my estate...striding--a parasol of death spreads overhead. Bones buckle, breath labors...an idiotic sky broken a china doll blue. Spiritual masteries whistle...sutra their wind... there's nowhere to go--an attending red goes black...a soul-rending idleness...my subjects shall remain heifers. Dotting my regal garden...dotting my regal garden--with their fruitlessness. Lording over... my estate...striding--a parasol of death spreads overhead--pronounced gloriously...the involuntary ratiocination of my being in the minds of others...how dear... how fitting am I...today I shall end my life.
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15
I took you backwoods Twilight went backwards We crossed dimensions Then Ian played flute I told you what I want You took a twist with your drink We agreed to make it work Babies made without actually having I made you mine without thinking You made me yours with a smile Then you took your opposition Gender reversal made math in your favor Came out the way we both devised Lord alien’s plan to metaphor control As each other’s shade defense for lording Partners in the grimy way we win over others Your command heightens my experience As we sway to the beat of concurrent hearts Strumming stringed theories of dimensional bliss Musical spheres sewn in the altogether Quilting our shared communal experience Grandmother, network our connections Through mirth, myth, and siren’s long song Superlative man-beast ushers your dancing words
0
Aug 20, 2013
Aug 20, 2013 at 11:11 PM UTC
jeff-barbanell
Backwords
I took you backwoods Twilight went backwards We crossed dimensions Then Ian played flute I told you what I want You took a twist with your drink We agreed to make it work Babies made without actually having I made you mine without thinking You made me yours with a smile Then you took your opposition Gender reversal made math in your favor Came out the way we both devised Lord alien’s plan to metaphor control As each other’s shade defense for lording Partners in the grimy way we win over others Your command heightens my experience As we sway to the beat of concurrent hearts Strumming stringed theories of dimensional bliss Musical spheres sewn in the altogether Quilting our shared communal experience Grandmother, network our connections Through mirth, myth, and siren’s long song Superlative man-beast ushers your dancing words
Continue reading...
24
The Toves came by again last night To rant and rave at me But what they asked they had no right As any fool could see To rant and rave at me Its pointless as I could not say As any fool could see And if I could I wouldn't anyway Its pointless as I could not say I do not talk with Toves And if I could I wouldn't anyway As everybody knows I do not talk with Toves They always treat me with contempt As everybody knows They just came barging in my tent Demanding that I tell them things But what they asked they had no right Lording around as if they're kings The Toves came by again last night
0
Jun 14, 2010
Jun 14, 2010 at 11:04 PM UTC
timothy-emil-birch
Pantoumic Toves
The Toves came by again last night To rant and rave at me But what they asked they had no right As any fool could see To rant and rave at me Its pointless as I could not say As any fool could see And if I could I wouldn't anyway Its pointless as I could not say I do not talk with Toves And if I could I wouldn't anyway As everybody knows I do not talk with Toves They always treat me with contempt As everybody knows They just came barging in my tent Demanding that I tell them things But what they asked they had no right Lording around as if they're kings The Toves came by again last night
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. In the dreamlands of sun, He streams the invisible rivers Of lit glories to come, Careens, lording the beams, Airs, above the ordinary Grasses that dry in the gleams, With eyes that wash over kills, The forking fowl and mealy vole, Hare in the runaway hills, High above the fourth wall, stead- Fast, stately in his dress, To commencements of death, Where eagle strikes with talon, Crescent as day moon, Sudden, silent to the cast fallen.
0
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 9:03 PM UTC
ormond
The Eagle
. In the dreamlands of sun, He streams the invisible rivers Of lit glories to come, Careens, lording the beams, Airs, above the ordinary Grasses that dry in the gleams, With eyes that wash over kills, The forking fowl and mealy vole, Hare in the runaway hills, High above the fourth wall, stead- Fast, stately in his dress, To commencements of death, Where eagle strikes with talon, Crescent as day moon, Sudden, silent to the cast fallen.
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16
weather breaks the clouds                 a day of mouths  eating mouths cold churning nature       lording weight over my mood ;     the role of a child   subdued
0
Mar 3, 2024
Mar 3, 2024 at 6:10 PM UTC
neth-jones
11111 01
weather breaks the clouds                 a day of mouths  eating mouths cold churning nature       lording weight over my mood ;     the role of a child   subdued
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5
*I am an army of jealous marching, Armed with guitars. I am no conqueror, Lording over roses, But they won’t get near you. You are a flower of your own. Your tongue is a ninja. A kunai is at my throat. Your breasts…is a tactical unit. I know what I want. And I am easily angered. Yes, you would see me Slaughtering flying-kisses With a Balisong; Love letters for you-- Burned, gunpowder. I would be on the watch With a machine gun, Guarding your heart. And then you would call me Weird. You see, my heart has a detonator. And if it's your wish to see me Exploding, then let it be, Yet do not pick the pieces, The adjectives in the streets-- You will only make a lament Out of them. Dear, I am just a blacksmith of words. And your love…is a blazing fire. I am at war With your senses, Your attention. You are mine.* © 2014 J.S.P.
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Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 5:41 AM UTC
jspua
Warfreak
*I am an army of jealous marching, Armed with guitars. I am no conqueror, Lording over roses, But they won’t get near you. You are a flower of your own. Your tongue is a ninja. A kunai is at my throat. Your breasts…is a tactical unit. I know what I want. And I am easily angered. Yes, you would see me Slaughtering flying-kisses With a Balisong; Love letters for you-- Burned, gunpowder. I would be on the watch With a machine gun, Guarding your heart. And then you would call me Weird. You see, my heart has a detonator. And if it's your wish to see me Exploding, then let it be, Yet do not pick the pieces, The adjectives in the streets-- You will only make a lament Out of them. Dear, I am just a blacksmith of words. And your love…is a blazing fire. I am at war With your senses, Your attention. You are mine.* © 2014 J.S.P.
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36
Donnie and Vladimir In a dacha by the sea H. U. M. P. I. N. G. They’re ******* freedom And democracy. Sooner or later they will Get to you and me. Vlad likes people On their knees the best. And Donnie will do Anything for a Family crest. They both want to become Dictators for life. They already believe they Get to ***** your wife. It’s only their divine right They wonder “who could blame us? After all, we deserve it. Because we’re famous!” Vlad keeps a secret He thinks Don a fool. But Donnie isn’t bright so Vlad gladly takes Don Back to school. Vlad knows Donnie is A ***** for acclaim And public adulation Which is pretty much the same So why not use this clown To accomplish his goals, And steal all the money And everyone’s souls. So, there they are Each gambleaholic whales Lording it up and robbing us When they should be in jail. The fools that let them rule And the ones who are to blame But we have to sift the ashes While the world is in flames.
0
Jun 3, 2017
Jun 3, 2017 at 10:14 PM UTC
brent-kincaid
DONNIE AND VLADIMIR
Donnie and Vladimir In a dacha by the sea H. U. M. P. I. N. G. They’re ******* freedom And democracy. Sooner or later they will Get to you and me. Vlad likes people On their knees the best. And Donnie will do Anything for a Family crest. They both want to become Dictators for life. They already believe they Get to ***** your wife. It’s only their divine right They wonder “who could blame us? After all, we deserve it. Because we’re famous!” Vlad keeps a secret He thinks Don a fool. But Donnie isn’t bright so Vlad gladly takes Don Back to school. Vlad knows Donnie is A ***** for acclaim And public adulation Which is pretty much the same So why not use this clown To accomplish his goals, And steal all the money And everyone’s souls. So, there they are Each gambleaholic whales Lording it up and robbing us When they should be in jail. The fools that let them rule And the ones who are to blame But we have to sift the ashes While the world is in flames.
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42
In the dreamlands of sun, He streams the invisible rivers Of lit glories to come, Careens, lording the beams, Airs, above the ordinary Grasses that dry in the gleams, With eyes that wash over kills, The forking fowl and mealy vole, Hare in the runaway hills, High above the fourth wall, stead- Fast, stately in his dress, To commencements of death, Where eagle strikes with talon, Crescent as day moon, Sudden, silent to the cast fallen.
0
Apr 24, 2015
Apr 24, 2015 at 4:25 PM UTC
ormond
The Eagle
In the dreamlands of sun, He streams the invisible rivers Of lit glories to come, Careens, lording the beams, Airs, above the ordinary Grasses that dry in the gleams, With eyes that wash over kills, The forking fowl and mealy vole, Hare in the runaway hills, High above the fourth wall, stead- Fast, stately in his dress, To commencements of death, Where eagle strikes with talon, Crescent as day moon, Sudden, silent to the cast fallen.
Continue reading...
15