"mollified" poems
Rabbit tracks in the snow
padded foot, here we go:
Found beside a lake,
far away for you to seek.
Festivities of the fastidious,
i was all but oblivious.
Promising frostiness,
the air, alit and aglow.
Bombarding me
quietly
with parallelism,
banging noiselessly
off the fire
of the morning sunshine.
Mollified, the world
stirs in its lack of commotion.
Meek blunders of the fortnight,
i wish to forego.
My star,
faded from the sky.
You are
what brings me high.
I will
be with you,
upon
the epoch of
tomorrow’s
morn, come nigh.
Dec 10, 2011
Dec 10, 2011 at 4:12 PM UTC
Where has she gone?
All the others are in line,
Mother bear knows.
Three there,
Two here,
One down,
But she is missing.
An inquiry goes through
Over channels
Fierce and loud
Because one isn’t lining up
And it’s that one.
“Tariq is down, hold on” she says
Fervidly praying, breathing heavy
And there she is.
Anywhere but where she should be.
So easy to find, far too easy.
Swearing, scolding
No time for kindness,
Lost, another child lost
And another may be lost,
The most precious one here.
Scathing scoldings go ignored
Too naive, too proud
A child hoping to **** death
Though she calls that barbaric.
Reformed, remade, reborn
But never killed.
And there’s another,
Another cub but not hers
Carelessly walking on,
Not aware of the foe in his midst.
Of her child, the fool.
But she notices, thank God,
But she freezes up, **** God.
Frozen, still, just as feared.
No gun in hand
Shaking, shivering,
Breathing so hard.
“Don’t hesitate,”
The cry goes through
But this too is ignored.
A gun in hand at last
But unused, unfired
Shakily held with weak grip.
Yet a shot rings out.
Another notch for the rifle
And another cub protected,
The most precious one.
He’s fallen and she’s fallen
Him in death, her in shock,
And again the cry is made
“Don’t hesitate”,
And again it fails.
For she’s truly a cub,
Naive child hoping, praying
Failing.
The mother rushes out
Cursing and pushing away curses
“We need her, Morrison” she says.
“I need her,” she does not.
Out from hiding,
Rushing, running, and, yes,
Praying.
Still so shaken,
Still too still.
She is grabbed,
Pulled, tugged,
Yanked up to her feet
And dragged away,
Hastily hidden.
Harsh words hurriedly spoken
As she is ****** down.
Not in anger but in fear
And tears flow
And the words stop.
Scowling the bear sits,
Fearing even now in the den.
Quiet falls
Deafening, painful.
Jack shut off,
Others mollified,
And she does not speak.
Only watches,
Watching, eyeing on hatefully,
Glaring as Mother carves another.
One more life, one more line
And she doesn’t understand.
Only judges quick and fast,
Ever the idealist.
And that stings more than death’s threat.
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 12:10 PM UTC
I think I actually try not to be toxic
Try not to be tragic
Try not to be destructive,
Along with its sub category
Self-destructive.
I just do not excel
In trying to feel mollified.
Though I've tried.
I like to drink the waters of insanity.
I can't steer from temptation,
Especially not if it's harmful.
It'll get me killed one day,
I'm sure of it.
After all, Jack and Jill fell down the hill,
And now Jack's in a box
Six feet under.
Dec 27, 2013
Dec 27, 2013 at 10:19 AM UTC
It is true
When they say
You're not you
When you're hungry
It ruins your day
When your belly is empty
Of plentiful joy
Then the slightest disturbance
Can leave you annoyed
And in dealing with others
Be flippant and curt
And in making progress,
Listless and inert
It reverts you to primacy,
Primitive need
And converts sharing, caring
To hording and greed
And will lead you to do
What you wouldn't dare deign
To consider permissible
Ways to attain
Your next meal
When you hear
Only your stomach rumbles
Succumbing to them
Just as the
Cookie crumbles
Until irrepressible
Monsters emerge
To devour whatever in sight
Can encourage
You to
Once again
Crack a mollified smile
Until the resurgence
Beguiles the bile
And after a while
Elapses, redaction
For while it grasps
At your brief satisfaction
You think only of
What remains
You can ration
As later-on's pangs
Boomerang
Right back atch'ya
The moment the flavor
Can no more be savored
And cravings enslave you again
To the anger
Feb 8, 2019
Feb 8, 2019 at 10:46 AM UTC
His mother was suicidal
His father was patricidal
His siblings all fratricidal
They fractured his parietal.
His acumen was impractical
While his mien was didactical
His morals were retractible
And his religion was heretical.
He longed to be a celebrity
And wished for its celerity
To skip the serendipity
And fork over his luminosity.
But it seems that synchronicity
Paired up with idiosyncrasy
In a natural form of complicity
And waylaid him with complicity.
He moaned that he was qualified
And not the least bit mollified
To be so soundly criticized
That they could not recognize
By those who were so glassy eyed
A plenipotentiary, very wise
Who appears before their very eyes
Who they would gladly plagiarize
Even while they ostracize.
He can’t achieve equanimity
When so many hold their enmity
And treat him so outrageously
In ignoring his magnanimity.
After all, is there anyone living
Who is so astoundingly forgiving
Than he by the simple act of giving
And letting them go on living?
Nov 3, 2016
Nov 3, 2016 at 8:02 PM UTC
We awaken with our heart in the hands of another
Our love is what everyone dreams about
It's how a true love affair should be
Now is the time to leave behind all doubt
But where is the mystery that so many cultivate?
We never hold back the true love we feel
Some may say we are revealing too much
But how can we share the joy that is so real?
Why must I wonder about these things?
Must we be afraid to open ourselves so?
It seems the secret to a true love affair
Is to always let our love flow
I'm not looking to live a life of clues
Wondering about who you are and what you do
I want a life of harmony and absolute belief
In the love of another and knowing it is true
Our insecurities will provide enough mystery
Even in the face of words of assurance
We will always harbor the fear of loss and pain
There is no need to cultivate games of adolescence
There will be mystery enough as we age
The years will add depth to us along the way
We will look forward to the growth in one another
As long as we allow each other to bloom each day
An ambience exists of free flowing love
Our doubts and fears are washed away
To be mollified, tempered and subdued
So that our true feelings never run astray
I will risk everything to remain open to you
Even though we live with little hint of wonder
I don't want to guess who you are or what you want
Only the assurance that no man will tear us asunder
Feb 24, 2012
Feb 24, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
We shalt Noel ourn favorite aria
A chorale of valiant rendezvous,
Overcome by ourn setting sun
Enchanted by ourn moon,
Fixated and elevated, by flying bolide's in the empyrean
Statue's of us to be built, with ourn amour' as its coliseum,
Dozy by ourn ardor spree, worn out from long heartfelt night
Covering eachother with balm, mollified by ourn spice...
The birds to maketh their fly-by, the bugs to creep on foot
The sand beneathe ourn locked feet, touched by the soot....
Her head on mine chest, as this she Whisper's ( I loveth thee mine rey)
I whisper back (I loveth thee more, reina of mine heart's display)
As tis
The passer-byers witnessed two angels lost in the moment
Forgetting the world ever existed...
Looking into eachother's extraterrestrial pupil's!!!!!
Jul 5, 2015
Jul 5, 2015 at 9:08 PM UTC
Sometimes I sit back
on my bed with an RHCP track
playing blocking out the world
then the voices kick in
"Why aren't you looking for someone?"
"Do you want to be alone forever or do you think that's a wise endeavor?"
I respond back that my confidence is gone out behind the shack stabbed in the back with a macabre machete the size of a horses ***
that every time I get comfortable with someone now I flinch, waiting for my heart to get stomped out or chipped away
that's why I said for the time being alone I'll stay.
My head and my heart seem out of sync I think it's clear that I'm trying to focus on myself and trying to accumulate both mental and financial wealth and improving my physical health but my heart sees none of this it just wants to be cuddled and mollified and it's mortifying to me to fight this internal war constantly because I want to be free from my feelings and my past because every time I say they're gone they keep roaring back
Jan 26, 2015
Jan 26, 2015 at 1:41 AM UTC
Both of them were perfect for me
'You're beautifully insane'
'You're insanely beautiful'
I chose the one whose existence mollified this feeling of ugliness seeping into me
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 9:50 AM UTC
I’m enjoying spending time with my mom - we have an intimacy braided like rope. I forgot how funny she is. At the same time, we’ve been softcore arguing for days.
She wants me to accomplish something this summer - to pad my med-school resume - do anything but relax. But I refuse. If I’m going to complete a master's degree next summer, then I’m going to have fun this summer. Periodt. I’m not an automaton for her to wind. Her stress radiates, as I play Animal Crossing on the couch.
I reach up towards her forehead, “Is there an off button?” I ask.
“Go away,” she chuckles, blocking my hand.
Before I turn away, I add, “You’re the most fun when you’re not giving advice or saying the wrong things..”
“Or breathing incorrectly?” She finished my sentence.
“Exactly,” I laughed, “then you’re practically perfect.”
The boys - Peter (my BF) and Step (my stepfather) - sit or stand, uninvolved, outside the action, like we’re in some other dimension - they try and look at anything but us when we’re wrangling.
Poetry time!
The phantoms of my discontent
are held at bay, by leisure,
are mollified by pleasure.
Am I crazy to set boundaries?
Am I lazy, cause I won’t let her chivvy me?
I’ve got my own voice; I’ll make my own choices.
We have the same goals - but I’m in control.
For every plan I’ve got, she has a hundred caveats.
Sure, I’ve done nothing, while she’s done it all.
I’m her little rocket that she doesn’t want to stall.
But she needs to understand, I’ve left the launching pad.
.
.
songs for this…
Mama by Spice Girls
Hey Mama by Kanye West
Mama, I'm a Big Girl Now by Nikki Blonsky, Marissa Jaret Winokur, Ricki Lake, Motion Picture Cast of Hairspray
.
periodt ← slang for absolute period
May 18, 2024
May 18, 2024 at 1:29 PM UTC
The sun had set on the mountain top
Before we could get away,
I hadn’t wanted to drive by night
But rather the light of day,
The sky was filled with a ghostly glow
The last few rays of the sun,
When I drove out to the open road,
Our journey had just begun.
I’d promised that I would get her there
I wasn’t going to renege,
She must have asked me a dozen times,
Was even beginning to beg,
I said, ‘They’re going to be waiting there
No matter how late we are,
They won’t be starting without you, girl,
For you are the principle star.’
That calmed her down, she was mollified,
Though she’d been upset for days,
She worried that she’d be there too late,
She’d said, in a blank dismay,
She thought it was such an honour to
Be picked as the chosen one,
‘I’ve never been picked for anything,
Before,’ was the song she sung.
We nosed down into the valley as
The darkness turned to grim,
With only the beam of the headlights
Like a tunnel we were in,
‘It seems to be taking a lifetime,’
Was the only thing she said,
‘I know, but the end of a lifetime is
The time that you are dead.’
She’d paid especial attention to
The dress she had to wear,
Had glossed her lips and had rouged her cheeks
And had tidied up her hair,
I paid her the best of compliments
That I knew she wanted to hear,
And told her that I was proud of her,
On this special night of the year.
We finally came to a grove of trees
And we turned our headlights in,
Throwing fantastic shadows as our
Wheels began to spin,
We stopped just under a giant oak
And I said, ‘We’re here at last.
You’re certain you want to go through with it?’
She said, ‘It will be a blast!’
Then shapes came out of the grove of trees
Wearing hoods and capes of black,
They gathered around the car, and stood
And stared, on that forest track,
When Emily went to join them they
Stood back to let her pass,
And led her into a clearing where
She lay down, on the grass.
It was then they began their chanting
Like a choir in a church,
Rising and falling, lilting, it was fine
And yet a dirge,
For then a man danced into the ring
Who wore the head of a goat,
From under his cape he drew a knife,
Leant down, and cut her throat.
David Lewis Paget
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:52 AM UTC
Every thought, every sight, every idea is built by WORDS,
You see a LEAF in color GREEN,
Feel HAPPY, CONFUSED, or MOLLIFIED.
But music is not so limited--
it is just sound, just pure emotion.
It does not go FEAR! CAUTION! WAITING!
but somehow, it's Bum-Plulum-AaaRRUM speaks those thoughts far more clearly.
It filters between the lines of language like light through a cracked-open door
it drips from heaven,
unchecked.
Feb 12, 2018
Feb 12, 2018 at 1:55 PM UTC
I have been to my heart doctor
she noticed I had been smoking and banged a delicate
fist on the table and her stethoscope danced over her
firm breasts, she was furious,
did not listen to my lame excuses that a cigarette
was given to me the day before and polite as I'm
couldn't say no. She was not mollified.
What do I know perhaps she is worried by her son?
who doesn't want to be a doctor.?
The tests I had shown no avers affect, she calmed
down and I gave her a copy of my latest book:
“alternative poetry and political opinions.”
I promised to not smoke again and gave her my latest book.
Apr 16, 2018
Apr 16, 2018 at 6:00 AM UTC
Buried inside—we blameless pets
rove mollified through worlds of kind.
Rough n’ tumbles polish curtsies
for a tempered pair, spotless n' blind.
Never to slip, never to falter,
ever, we pets, sturdy in hollow.
Leap in rhyme, step with reason
‘to splitting morrow—grit n' swallow.
Nov 10, 2019
Nov 10, 2019 at 1:27 PM UTC
A vertical canvas for artists and disguise
Graffiti scrawled by revolutionaries
Banksy and friends mollified
Peed on by the territorial scenters
They divide us all
Suppress or embolden
Keep others out and us in
A place to hang our trophies
I feel it's angular form
I cannot see through its opaque intensity
The smell of fear is held within
A ritualistic cacophony rings out
This lifeless structure
Sees no boundaries
Bonded by graft
Politics rules its being
Designed to control
Boxed in our own padded cell
We bury our remorse or pains in the wall
Ready to tear down that sponge and start again
Two stones in a line-up
Three interwoven
Four in a tower
One to knock it all down
Two walls guide today’s journey
Three a perpetuating maze
The fourth outside of this dimension
The last is for us to climb
We travel with an invisible wall
It protects our flanks
I scatter saffron when I take the air
The walls outline enlightened
I look forward to the day when I need no walls
Fabric heavenly constructs
Transparent and naked
I can run with this wall
Mar 8, 2021
Mar 8, 2021 at 10:20 AM UTC
it's interesting
to see a burning heart
ignored
passion and dedication
should get
something
shouldn't it
maybe
maybe they stopped paying
the person
who was suppose
to care about such things.
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC