"merited" poems
In Spain -
where cheese-making stretches back
to centuries
is a medium sized lump of
Sweet ******* Christ
blessed is the ******
whose womb merited to carry
our small herd of
hand-milked cows
providing milk, cheese, butter, and ice
and to Christians,
the lamb is the symbol of when
the pope and all the christian leadership
will be succeeded by
Moo Jesus
The Good Shepard draws not milk
not liquid from his sheep
but
an overview over Greek pagan
and Christian pastoral deities
then Christ went and
made the exorcism and
he sold in town all his
rriegitha cheese, his curds, his milk
I mentioned that The Green Sheep
had an ad coming out
in the body and blood of Christ
how could the shepherds resist
the temptation?
I was refusing the sacraments
mysticism is cheese
Christ is cheese
better still,
mountains of cheese!
Is your cheese killing the planet?
The Wedding of the Dead:
Celebration and Restraint
Christ stopped at Ebola
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:17 PM UTC
788
Joy to have merited the Pain—
To merit the Release—
Joy to have perished every step—
To Compass Paradise—
Pardon—to look upon thy face—
With these old fashioned Eyes—
Better than new—could be—for that—
Though bought in Paradise—
Because they looked on thee before—
And thou hast looked on them—
Prove Me—My Hazel Witnesses
The features are the same—
So fleet thou wert, when present—
So infinite—when gone—
An Orient’s Apparition—
Remanded of the Morn—
The Height I recollect—
’Twas even with the Hills—
The Depth upon my Soul was notched—
As Floods—on Whites of Wheels—
To Haunt—till Time have dropped
His last Decade away,
And Haunting actualize—to last
At least—Eternity—
1.6k
I was graduated for a year and a half,
but still a freshman of life, lost
in a school whose corridors stretched globes
and classrooms the size of whole buildings
who cast shadows longer than football field.
You were the senior who saved me,
who welcomed me,
who gave me a friend
whom I maybe never merited.
But it was never meant to last, was it?
You're the senior who had to graduate.
As the French say, "C'est la vie."
And the shadows stretched farther and faster
than ever before I had met you.
But not for so long, now, I loved you.
Oct 4, 2012
Oct 4, 2012 at 10:31 PM UTC
Lyrical James,
Lyrical James,
So down to the nip,
Consumed to the tip,
His world ripped apart
Thus, shattering his heart.
Life can be mystical,
His image had been lyrical,
Successful in each pace,
Unique and ace,
It fell right in place.
Lyrical James,
Typical James,
Those devious games,
Left him displaced,
He felt so misplaced,
Far below grime,
He'd wished for a swing in time,
Where he'll be strong again,
When his merited cause was tall and plain,
Those lost days, he aches to regain.
Lyrical James,
Elegiacal James,
Again he sees her from a distance
He blew for a glance,
All he got was bounce,
Plus meaningful pounce,
Those festal days are long gone,
He was now all alone.
Lyrical James
Mystical James,
He follows the box,
From sunrise 'til sunset,
Again he sees her smile,
So near, yet an unreachable mile,
Success she possesses
Enrichment she precedes,
His lyrical companion,
Now stands as a champion,
Thus deadly like a scorpion,
The dominion of the Eves,
Em devilish mimics angels, thieves…..
Lyrical James,
Beloved James,
The years whisk by,
His valiant bravery,
Now rested in a grave,
'Til sleep, he loved.
Mar 21, 2015
Mar 21, 2015 at 6:45 PM UTC
Beauty Is As Beauty Does
A Story by Eclipsing Moon-blood red
If enough people are interested I will continue with this series as a Book with chapters this one being renamed ...Beauty Is As Beauty Does-Prologue .
Beauty Is As Beauty Does
A Story by Eclipsing Moon-blood red
If enough people are interested I will continue with this series as a Book with chapters, this one being renamed ...Beauty Is as Beauty Does-Prologue.
In the dark recesses of the void, we call our universe a cloud was forming, one devoid of morals or intent.
The molecules came together under the thought processes of a malignantly minded old sorcerer, blended with his hope of a lasting endowment of centuries of learning and spell castings.
He was searching for a one to carry on his knowledge and spells of potion and this cloud could carry out the espying in secret as he wished...under cover of dark and thought...unless a spirit was descerned by another caster of woven potions.
Today in time was measured more by centuries and decades as the process took... its form...questing for the entity as this universe and others had been targeted for his type of Magic...sorcerers specialized in their trade and like all good practioners he had his fireworks shows with energy beams and potion majic mixed to control and manipulate the certain being he was working with...for power was the name of his gambit...the access and addition of as well as controlling in the sphere of a society...let’s just say he got his jollies from using others well earned energy..What they worked for...he stole and reveled in the process.
It just so happened that today...his cloud was in the vicinity of a planet known to the Magical world as Earth...Terra...this being inhabitied by beings in many dimensions and frequensies...it seemed to home in on a child...being birthed as a logical consideration ..So that; further study was merited
.Marking this beings location in the foothills of a hidden mountain range ...in the Tibetan range and former birthplace of a religious teacher known as Lord Buddha...Siddhartha...and a nice long history in the telling of the Monks who followed him...this time a twist a counter turn of the incarnation was a Female child ..Looking to be imbued with the same set of majical powers...and the beginning of another time and space of reign as the first...excellent time to lay claim to the mind and teachings of this ...ONE..Of Beauty.
Sep 28, 2011
Sep 28, 2011 at 12:50 PM UTC
the jolly painter came to visit, one day.
he painted smileys upon the walls of my house -
then another and another,
and another until
i was forced
to spread my smileys
about.
now, were they merited -
these radiant
marvelous things -
marking my walls with
their swelling brilliance
or were they,
simply,
of Karma's duty -
blossoms flowering,
just as they should?
whichever, however,
whenever, whatever,
i'm not quite sure
but i like the allure
they bring
strength to my stem
and quiet the mayhem,
i live in,
so i think,
my dear,
i shall take them.
Aug 16, 2011
Aug 16, 2011 at 1:07 PM UTC
Cracked glasses
Shredded tights
Broke *****
Sleepless nights.
Piled dishes
Tired eyes
Hollow wishes
Finance lies.
Poor and sad
Kids getting cold
But I'm glad
No one's told.
We move along
With mouths closed
Sing that song
No one knows.
Being broke is tough
Being alone is worse
What will be enough?
Who'd lift this curse?
Some say it's inherited
Some say it's funny
That we're not merited
For even milk money.
So it's down we go
Is there road up ahead?
We will never really know
We just push on instead.
Without a house to lose
Or a car to sleep
We don't have to choose
Which treasures we should keep.
Money's just paper, right?
Coins are just pounds
But we count all night
Doing the income rounds.
Cadillacs in our dreams?
Maybe so on occasion
But few it seems
Are of that persuasion.
No money left
None at all
So time's set
For our downfall.
Late at night,
Not really anything
Setting it right
Pawning a ring.
Bounced checks
Running away
******* wrecks
Without pay.
Baby pouts
Getting sunny?
Going without
Milk money.
Nov 9, 2013
Nov 9, 2013 at 11:17 PM UTC
To the love and trust you once owned
Say Goodbye
To all the privileges merited
say goodbye
Because they're gone faster than you've earned the temporary happiness
But now it's all gone
Say goodbye
You contemplate stopping your anti-depressants just to feel something again
Because the messed you've made has only numbed you
Hurting yourself is more rewarding than others hurting you
Because you can stop if you want to
Sometimes
You have the control
But say goodbye
Everything is gone and so am I
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 12:45 PM UTC
I think of you miss you JpcPjc-rdd
Greet you, hug you, love you.
Beautiful your ink is gold as it was just written from my beloved twin soul Twin Flame just for me alone.
~~;
My precious grown offspring
We can't ever be apart.
Evildoers lie divide
and murderer and
soon will meet
their merited end.
~~
On this side my Abby's goes from the Gulf of Mexico, to further on far to Gaza where I too feel am such Mom, roaming, sinking and lonely in GA holding on to my true love's mind to mind, heart to heart, mourning our once upon a time loss.
How I wish i too could hold
my true love's manly strong powerful distinctive hand..to go rescue the Jewels of my crown motherhood..our kids.
I think of you daily
SAINT VALENTINE DAY TOO
THANK YOU FOR THAT DARLING!.
I look around at this rented
forest lands feeling your presence darlings beloved.
Trees the carpenter bees mating on air, and other wild creatures tiny rabbits, cardinals birds and homeless, hungry cats
that I feed
I may look a the moon
but I am only looking at you
sweetheart.
Thank you for your sweet notes
and chronological love letters
(that jealous bad people stole)
but to my good fortune
photographical memory
To my rescue.
We are together
Always my beloved Sonnet 75.
How I love thee.
~~~~
Apr 3, 2024
Apr 3, 2024 at 10:27 PM UTC
The last of six children
You made your way late
Through the humdrum of life
In the Volunteer state
Strapped to the hollows
Where your daddy and kin
Pulled coal from the mountains
And mine shafts within
The hum of the smokestacks
And the fog of the earth
Wore at your senses
And questioned your worth
While the cracks in the family
Like the cracks in the hills
Were as easy to slip through
As fortune’s goodwill
So you took to the bottle
And you took to the boys
With a thirst for the throttle
And the late barroom noise
While your mama and daddy
Sat at home by the phone
Sendin’ prayers for their youngest
Toward the gold plated throne
The folks down in Loudon
Remember too well
The night you rolled through
In your dust caked Chevelle
And the way it spun out
On a stray slab of ore
And careened down the slope
For the cold valley floor
The dirt in those hills
Never merited much
Beyond the black rock
Buried deep in its clutch
But the same soul that sprawled
Beside granddaddy’s grave
Was the same soul consumed
By the soil that day
When the April rains whisper
Their song to the pines
And the distant train whistles
Its lonesome steel whine
Deep in the thunder
Behind the grey hue
Your memory glistens
Like the late morning dew
The last of six children
You made your way late
Through the humdrum of life
In the Volunteer state
Pining for something
Your voice could not name
A dream and a dreamer
Too restless to tame
Dec 6, 2015
Dec 6, 2015 at 5:50 PM UTC
Yet
Ere th' season dies a-cold
And cold winds return to howl,
I shall rise through th' violette sky,
Telling t'at my love for thee has died.
May Lawes and Jenkyns shield its rest,
In green skies' bosoms, on dribbling rains' chest,
With a solid poem t'at as ever be my guest,
Back, back my dead love is, in whose nest.
And my heart, once its merited soliloquy,
Cursest thee like a fetished beast,
Bearing all onto the zephyr's shoulder,
Hopping through all past enigmas.
Hath it tampered with my viol's wood,
Hath it grinned over through my sins,
Throwing the grievous and the acute,
Breaking my febrile Eolian lute,
Hast it fashioned so airy a mood,
Hast it carved so spacious a fire,
Hast it drawn stealth leaves from my roots,
Hast it seemed neither mist nor shades,
Then release me, fly me outrite,
To new freedom t'is benevolent night,
With thy grim anew bride and suit,
Wed her away with thy colourless love,
My love is dead, dead, dead, and grim,
A stranger to me and my volatile dreams,
Unlike a cloud t'at once seemed so light,
Casting a shade beyond one's porous fright,
My love's as dead, dead, dead, as it may seem,
The subtlety of my eyes hath drifted,
The congested breath of mine hath lifted,
And I hath now seen what t'is world means.
My love is dead, dead, dead, as t'at of thine,
Thou art a dead soul to my lonely wine,
I'd watch thee bleed profusely on the floor,
I'd close the windows and smile over the door.
I want thee dead, dead, dead, and hastily step away,
I hath no other words for thee, I hath no more t' say,
I'd stop by as thy heartbeat grew weak,
And hear the last words thou wouldst speak.
Jul 22, 2014
Jul 22, 2014 at 3:34 PM UTC
A whistle from England sailing 9500 miles away
A lack of comfort and banter, a fight and a bite
A tuck as I reach out over your leaned shoulder
Young hearts who skipped on a rope and tugged
A pull from right to left, a completion for a winner
Locked you in my arms for the longest time ever
Inside my core is the thesaurus and theories you merited
Can you be the priest that initiates a ritualistic Candomblé?
Recite the irmandades as I dally lost at your feet
Darling, I have no pen left to write epistolary and soliloquies
Neither have I got vocals to narrate and articulate speeches
For all we can do is embark and meet in between the shores
Apr 30, 2016
Apr 30, 2016 at 4:09 PM UTC
Your smile unfurls
steadfast in Northern harmonies,
the merited determination
patient as a breath.
The Oars swirled past,
their energy awoken
to be wooed by the wistful
under the momentariness Moon.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 4:44 PM UTC
Gentle love is a touch
An instant fix to a dull day
Please put just your finger on my hand
Merited I hope..
Proud am I to have your love
So grateful for small elements
In the worlds bother
You can cure me
Fix my frayed soul
And smooth out my trepidations
Heal my split day
Melt my heart
Take the small breeze
That wraps around me
The breeze of your love
Cooling and calming
In my youth I knew you
I knew you would come for me
I waited and waited whilst you trod softly
Your fairy steps on the grass
May you be fulfilled
As the bee in the flower
The fresh wave that consumes the sand
Like s tranquil stroke of love
I' didn't always have your heart
But since we've been one
The setting sun no longer
Rests hard on the horizon of hope
Break through the nights peace
With simple birdsong
The melody of togetherness
Makes waking an adventure of magnificence
Smile as we sit looking away
Fading edges blur our dancing hearts
The mellowness of summer
Overrides the harshness of winter
Our spring and newly borne spirit
Is gathering energy and love
Wrapped in natural measures
To enjoy as we might
For my Jan
I love you as always ***
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 9:47 AM UTC
Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.
Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.
What could a little kid do
That merited a hard fist?
Go ahead, take your time
Write us out a long list.
Did it cry because hungry,
Lonely in it’s own crib?
Did it need frequent changing,
Spit up on it’s tiny bib?
Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.
Was there a rash hurting
Or maybe a sour belly.
Did you feed it liver pate
When it wanted cherry jelly?
Did it say no to your orders
When treated like a slave?
What was the crime you felt
Should send them to the grave?
Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.
Something went very wrong with you
That you feel right to hit children;
To starve and cut and burn them
With a kind of joyous abandon.
Is part of it that you get to do
Whatever outrage you want
As long as you keep it hidden,
As long as you don’t flaunt?
Baby cries
Don’t know why
There’s got to be a reason.
By and by
We’ll know why
It can’t be just the season.
Pick them up
When babies cry
And let the know you love them.
Never beat
Never shout
Never push and shove them.
Nov 1, 2017
Nov 1, 2017 at 3:04 PM UTC
Surreal attraction and a maddening obsession
Unfolding that mixture along with penalties
Toxic environment of love and passion
Bringing an unwarranted pragmatism
Signature of that merited guilt, sparks
Protecting her realistic breaths
Escaping from her wined ones
Her last plea to keep us alive, eternally
I looked into her eyes, longingly
An only urge of reaching the surface..
Unknown tracing of my caresses
On an absent sense of her lips
It sure has happened, my lover
A raw sort of death, I think
A severe need of a refresh
Unable to touch her flesh
Reality's trap surrounding slowly
Carbonated silences spreading
As our souls erode
No particles of peace
Demise of a quaint immortality..
We're going under, ultimately
From crimson to carmine, circulating
Hearts are bleeding colors, profusely
Only for you..
Only for me..
Maybe with a perchance
In a distant future
They’ll delve us up
Only to find
Our spirits yet intertwined..
Jun 19, 2017
Jun 19, 2017 at 12:37 PM UTC
He was born July 2, 1925,
son of James and Jesse Evers,
Medgar Evers of Mississippi,
World War II veteran,
fought in the Battle of Normandy,
June 1944,
with his soldier brothers
of same and other races.
He rose a leader,
a Freedom Hero,
Mississippi field secretary of NAACP,
President, Regional Council of
***** Leaders,
husband of Myrlie, her purity
of devotion,
father of Darrell, Reena Denise,
and James,
civil rights leadership of the
highest calling,
of a bravery that persevered
again.
That early morning,
June 12, 1963,
a shot of hate tore
through his heart,
he was fallen in his own driveway,
his family witnessed this
most heinous of murders
committed in the insanity
of human acridity,
the bitterness in our psyches.
June 19, 1963,
full military honors,
Arlington National Cemetery,
for a man of a character so
much more loving
than his assassin's.
We, as a people,
we must obliterate
pre-conceived assumptions,
faulty thoughts of each other.
Medgar Evers of Mississippi,
Medgar Evers of America,
posthumously awarded the
Spingarn Medal,
murdered in a country
he fought for,
merited eternally by God.
Jun 19, 2020
Jun 19, 2020 at 9:53 AM UTC
Dear, Arabia Ohana,
This brief but edenic stint shared en masse and peripherally has, a fortiori, made me brimfully ecstatic to have become apart of this ohana. This parcel is to impart my incredulously revered kismeted perspective on this pleasant billet symbiosis that I accredit to the deific clairvoyant who fondly granted our correspondence with utmost prudence. I cannot convince myself some lackadaisical serendipity materialized this perfectly pertinent vista. With profound sentiment I personally express how this considerably blessed boon has merited profuse gratitude, absolute admiration and the reverent affection from my entire family as of quandam, contempto and nigh.
With genuine gratitudinous laud
Jesse Revollar
Jul 5, 2018
Jul 5, 2018 at 11:17 PM UTC
"Forgive us," We chant.
they're only words that we've inherited
an outline we've decided
history's absurd parameters
the language we've provided
as if trust in our alignment
to a violent set of precepts can be merited.
Civil Culture?
It's a culture of the owner
simple values we've inducted
printing match sticks out of loners
when the world is deconstructed
do you measure up or fold it
you reduce the world to numbers
blew the lid off feuds abundance
knew the billionaires would fund it
What's it mean?
Doesn't matter.
it's a remnant
not a battle.
don't dissect it
never tattle
golden goose
baby rattle
stolen goods
failing castle
swollen foot
gravy saddle
smoke and soot
pale and fragile
cut the fruit
use a scalpel.
This is...
Strange fruit.
Oct 31, 2019
Oct 31, 2019 at 2:41 AM UTC
Carry your sack to hell
not even a morsel of memory should languish
A solitary splinter of good
still goes punished.
Lower your eyes in subservience,
but that's unwise
with those burning pyres
of sandals, discarded
least any man secretly merited wings
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 4:40 PM UTC
always offer a second option,
and be willing to fill the will of the optics
*** sometimes deep behind your
eyes you can feel eruptions of meaning, and beauty
of all past, present, and future
tenses spoken like tennis into a word we're all still computing,
post truth is an acute definition in the face of
Silicon Valley rising to a mountain without might,
something designed to sooner or rather than later erupt in a sight
of obvious devastation, tragedy, and existential
awareness and insight on the brevity
and obscurity of human infatuation with
their own genealogy, insights,
or winked eyes replaced in inked lines to
maintain a certain secrecy,
the answer being nothing in particular,
creepily.
Oct 27, 2020
Oct 27, 2020 at 9:30 AM UTC
I think of you miss you JpcPjc-rdd
Greet you, hug you, love you.
Beautiful your ink is gold as it was just written from my beloved twin soul Twin Flame just for me alone.
~~;
My precious grown offspring
We can't ever be apart.
Evildoers lie divide
and murderer and
soon will meet
their merited end.
~~
On this side my Abby's goes from the Gulf of Mexico, to further on far to Gaza where I too feel am such Mom, roaming, sinking and lonely in GA holding on to my true love's mind to mind, heart to heart, mourning our once upon a time loss.
How I wish i too could hold
my true love's manly strong powerful distinctive hand..to go rescue the Jewels of my crown motherhood..our kids.
I think of you daily
SAINT VALENTINE DAY TOO
THANK YOU FOR THAT DARLING!.
I look around at this rented
forest lands feeling your presence darlings beloved.
Trees the carpenter bees mating on air, and other wild creatures tiny rabbits, cardinals birds and homeless, hungry cats
that I feed
I may look a the moon
but I am only looking at you
sweetheart.
Thank you for your sweet notes
and chronological love letters
(that jealous bad people stole)
but to my good fortune
photographical memory
To my rescue.
We are together
Always my beloved Sonnet 75.
How I love thee.
~~~~
By: Karijinbba
Sep 16, 2024
Sep 16, 2024 at 7:29 PM UTC
It's time he gets his well-merited fame;
Hard-drivin' Hunter, captured by his game.
Oct 19, 2020
Oct 19, 2020 at 6:17 PM UTC
Well merited or not
This life is ours to lead
Not to leave
So live it
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 2:58 PM UTC