"majordomo" poems - Hello Poetry

Shimmering scales shed by snakes break beneath the weight of our passion Light out Thrown down on the bed move like waves and quench like fountains of refulgence and lips of red brushed satin Skin slick with sweat smooth shaved and shiny in the moonlight Light on Wet Gliding in like kites in autumn hips pivot press and penetrate deep all shards of infernal ardor Teeth connect Castanets click cold questing flesh begets all forms of tantra Unending rhythmic impacts torn sheets and groping hands erupt into the majordomo's garden fluid exchanged again and again orifices sleek with lingering tingling and pressed tips Inhale exhale shared breath unfurled in gleaming gusts of lust stars collapse internal flames burst as the humming quiver releases Light off light on lights all.

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Jun 12, 2012

Jun 12, 2012 at 12:21 PM UTC

saul-makabim

Lights

Shimmering scales shed by snakes break beneath the weight of our passion Light out Thrown down on the bed move like waves and quench like fountains of refulgence and lips of red brushed satin Skin slick with sweat smooth shaved and shiny in the moonlight Light on Wet Gliding in like kites in autumn hips pivot press and penetrate deep all shards of infernal ardor Teeth connect Castanets click cold questing flesh begets all forms of tantra Unending rhythmic impacts torn sheets and groping hands erupt into the majordomo's garden fluid exchanged again and again orifices sleek with lingering tingling and pressed tips Inhale exhale shared breath unfurled in gleaming gusts of lust stars collapse internal flames burst as the humming quiver releases Light off light on lights all.

33

MOTECUHZOMA If, past this moment, you persist in lies, Know I shall bury you beneath my halls, Pull down your house till sludge seeps through the planks, And wipe your family name from off the earth, Yea, to the unborn fragments in the womb. Now, wouldn’t you recant this little fib? FISHERMAN Forgive me lord, but what I tell is truth. TLACAELEL Most like it is. MOTECUHZOMA Then know, you brave, bold slave, These spectral archipelagos you saw, Were giantlike canoes, with alien crew. He gestures to a servant, who produces a trunk. One year ago, the waves cast up this trunk Of jewels, foreign frocks, and silver swords: Most like, the precious jetsam of this launch. FISHERMAN May my aviso aid your eminence. MOTECUHZOMA One see him nobly boarded in our suites. Exit Servant with the Fisherman. Enter a Majordomo. TLACAELEL Well, watch, where are your hocus-pocus wards? MAJORDOMO My lord, command that I be cut to pieces or whatever you wish, for you should know that when I reached the cell, there was no one there. I had my best sentries there, trustworthy men I’ve known for years, but none of them heard the sorcerers escape. TLACAELEL Then how, pray tell me, have they flown the coop? MAJORDOMO Perhaps they flapped away. TLACAELEL What, gallows-meat? MAJORDOMO They can sprinkle themselves with fern-spores, and shimmer into invisibility. TLACAELEL Buzz, buzz! These twice-told tales upend my trust. Rope’s end- MOTECUHZOMA No. Suffer him. TLACAELEL As you see fit. MOTECUHZOMA Some say such wizards take wing every night, And soar unto the fringes of the earth. TLACAELEL His majesty’s broad magnanimity Has spared you this time, turnkey, but repair. Not all wards will be such skilled hide-and-seeks. MOTECUHZOMA Now: Torch the hovels of their families, And witness if those new lighthouses’ beacons Will call their wandering rooks home to re-roost. Exit Majordomo. TLACAELEL And what of these vast dugouts? MOTECUHZOMA Time will tell. Our steward Teuhtlilli eastward creeps, To see what tricks are offered from the deeps. They exit.

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Nov 30, 2016

Nov 30, 2016 at 1:21 PM UTC

david-betten

The Floral War 2:5:25-61

MOTECUHZOMA If, past this moment, you persist in lies, Know I shall bury you beneath my halls, Pull down your house till sludge seeps through the planks, And wipe your family name from off the earth, Yea, to the unborn fragments in the womb. Now, wouldn’t you recant this little fib? FISHERMAN Forgive me lord, but what I tell is truth. TLACAELEL Most like it is. MOTECUHZOMA Then know, you brave, bold slave, These spectral archipelagos you saw, Were giantlike canoes, with alien crew. He gestures to a servant, who produces a trunk. One year ago, the waves cast up this trunk Of jewels, foreign frocks, and silver swords: Most like, the precious jetsam of this launch. FISHERMAN May my aviso aid your eminence. MOTECUHZOMA One see him nobly boarded in our suites. Exit Servant with the Fisherman. Enter a Majordomo. TLACAELEL Well, watch, where are your hocus-pocus wards? MAJORDOMO My lord, command that I be cut to pieces or whatever you wish, for you should know that when I reached the cell, there was no one there. I had my best sentries there, trustworthy men I’ve known for years, but none of them heard the sorcerers escape. TLACAELEL Then how, pray tell me, have they flown the coop? MAJORDOMO Perhaps they flapped away. TLACAELEL What, gallows-meat? MAJORDOMO They can sprinkle themselves with fern-spores, and shimmer into invisibility. TLACAELEL Buzz, buzz! These twice-told tales upend my trust. Rope’s end- MOTECUHZOMA No. Suffer him. TLACAELEL As you see fit. MOTECUHZOMA Some say such wizards take wing every night, And soar unto the fringes of the earth. TLACAELEL His majesty’s broad magnanimity Has spared you this time, turnkey, but repair. Not all wards will be such skilled hide-and-seeks. MOTECUHZOMA Now: Torch the hovels of their families, And witness if those new lighthouses’ beacons Will call their wandering rooks home to re-roost. Exit Majordomo. TLACAELEL And what of these vast dugouts? MOTECUHZOMA Time will tell. Our steward Teuhtlilli eastward creeps, To see what tricks are offered from the deeps. They exit.

58

while atop the surface of planet Earth humanity all abustle skittering to and fro, hither and yon engaged in self important activity yielding profits, sans blood, sweat and tears won full throttle industrial manufacturers quaking unstoppably only intermittently pausing, where managers standing arms akimbo asper quizzical looking hue cree ton megaphone blaring orders to underlings so "Boss" tweed can line pockets for his/her daughter and/or son Head Honcho most aggrieved, when red ink doth run undermining the bottom line, thus farming out labor to distant places (where wages amount to pennies on the dollar) locals such as Lake Woebegone, Qum, Timbuktu, et cetera where pun gnashing working conditions tantamount to slave labor, yet scare other options open hence able bodied men, women and children scramble, despite back breaking grueling physically exhausting grunt job accepting second to none with nary any rest for weary long as workweek includes a mon day, where bloodied bare hands claw purported Mother lode with feigned frenzied zest enterprise bolstered via executive bank ministers financing lucrative scheme attended to by majordomo attired in expensive ves corporate investment project elicits quaffing, imbibing, and chugging elixir produced from heavily guarded recipe qua electric kool aid acid test where coeval business men/women rest assured bonanza forecast upon former green acres hiding treasured quest marginally concerned such nettlesome pillaging, ravaging, torturing ranks wealth driven vanity as deleterious pest shortsighted exploitation money making embarkation glorified as investment nsync to feather nest retirement funds despite leaving the environment messed up, whereby future generations saddled with poorly bandaging gentrifying, resuscitating gaping wounds upon Gaia at best shortening quality of life for all (poetry) Earthlings aye attest.

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May 12, 2018

May 12, 2018 at 1:36 PM UTC

matthew-scott-harris2p

Anthropocentrism Wreck Less Track Record

while atop the surface of planet Earth humanity all abustle skittering to and fro, hither and yon engaged in self important activity yielding profits, sans blood, sweat and tears won full throttle industrial manufacturers quaking unstoppably only intermittently pausing, where managers standing arms akimbo asper quizzical looking hue cree ton megaphone blaring orders to underlings so "Boss" tweed can line pockets for his/her daughter and/or son Head Honcho most aggrieved, when red ink doth run undermining the bottom line, thus farming out labor to distant places (where wages amount to pennies on the dollar) locals such as Lake Woebegone, Qum, Timbuktu, et cetera where pun gnashing working conditions tantamount to slave labor, yet scare other options open hence able bodied men, women and children scramble, despite back breaking grueling physically exhausting grunt job accepting second to none with nary any rest for weary long as workweek includes a mon day, where bloodied bare hands claw purported Mother lode with feigned frenzied zest enterprise bolstered via executive bank ministers financing lucrative scheme attended to by majordomo attired in expensive ves corporate investment project elicits quaffing, imbibing, and chugging elixir produced from heavily guarded recipe qua electric kool aid acid test where coeval business men/women rest assured bonanza forecast upon former green acres hiding treasured quest marginally concerned such nettlesome pillaging, ravaging, torturing ranks wealth driven vanity as deleterious pest shortsighted exploitation money making embarkation glorified as investment nsync to feather nest retirement funds despite leaving the environment messed up, whereby future generations saddled with poorly bandaging gentrifying, resuscitating gaping wounds upon Gaia at best shortening quality of life for all (poetry) Earthlings aye attest.

54

By: Cedric McClester Has it become the new norm? This kick the puppies platform As we observe him barnstorm Which he’s raised to an art form While certain folk relate To his message of hate Perhaps I need to state It’s crushed by its own weight While also kicking puppies He’s fishing for the guppies And not attracting yuppies Let alone any buppies But he content to be Their majordomo Don’t cha see That his base will agree What puppies signify Are the people who will die Unless we rise-up, no lie And not reelect that guy Because we entertain that fool We’re open to worldwide ridicule ‘Cuz he’s broken every rule And he's a Russian tool Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.

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Jul 3, 2019

Jul 3, 2019 at 5:39 AM UTC

cedric-mcclester

THE NEW NORM

By: Cedric McClester Has it become the new norm? This kick the puppies platform As we observe him barnstorm Which he’s raised to an art form While certain folk relate To his message of hate Perhaps I need to state It’s crushed by its own weight While also kicking puppies He’s fishing for the guppies And not attracting yuppies Let alone any buppies But he content to be Their majordomo Don’t cha see That his base will agree What puppies signify Are the people who will die Unless we rise-up, no lie And not reelect that guy Because we entertain that fool We’re open to worldwide ridicule ‘Cuz he’s broken every rule And he's a Russian tool Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2019. All rights reserved.

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