"obeys" poems
Now I ask you to join me
Now you celebrate
Not being me. Not being you
Only Us for the great
UN
load!
DIS
arm!
EN
large!
OUT
side!
Some steps I will take
Be my guest
Pull your anchor
Out of the lake
We're
In the room
In the building
In the crowded city
In the country with thousands of cities
The country shares the continent with an enemy nation
The two rivals are carried round and round by the Earth's endless rotation
The Earth obeys the master’s magnetic line, burning since uncountable clock time
The sun is blind to his insignificance too, ignoring billions of other star mates, it can’t see through
Immeasurable it seems, magnifying! All of them such tiny little parts in one of Miss Milky’s arms
Some light years away there they are: Pinwheel, Cartwheel, Black Eye, Andromeda and Cigar
Unmeasurable it seems, humongous! All of them such a fading little part of the cosmos
There you are
Floating from a distance
Feel the empty ground
Drink from the fountain of existence
Still blind to insignificance?
Still convinced about the rightness of imposed beliefs?
Still judging others’ defects according to our pretentious and vain mind?
Still punching away the different, protecting the mold?
Still reinforcing illusory antagonism and insignia?
Still seeing only two sides?
Still holding to the pride?
Still
In the ******* room
Am I? Are you?
Let's try it again
Mar 17, 2015
Mar 17, 2015 at 5:21 PM UTC
Ay, this is freedom!--these pure skies
Were never stained with village smoke:
The fragrant wind, that through them flies,
Is breathed from wastes by plough unbroke.
Here, with my rifle and my steed,
And her who left the world for me,
I plant me, where the red deer feed
In the green desert--and am free.
For here the fair savannas know
No barriers in the bloomy grass;
Wherever breeze of heaven may blow,
Or beam of heaven may glance, I pass.
In pastures, measureless as air,
The bison is my noble game;
The bounding elk, whose antlers tear
The branches, falls before my aim.
Mine are the river-fowl that scream
From the long stripe of waving sedge;
The bear that marks my weapon's gleam,
Hides vainly in the forest's edge;
In vain the she-wolf stands at bay;
The brinded catamount, that lies
High in the boughs to watch his prey,
Even in the act of springing, dies.
With what free growth the elm and plane
Fling their huge arms across my way,
Gray, old, and cumbered with a train
Of vines, as huge, and old, and gray!
Free stray the lucid streams, and find
No taint in these fresh lawns and shades;
Free spring the flowers that scent the wind
Where never scythe has swept the glades.
Alone the Fire, when frost-winds sere
The heavy herbage of the ground,
Gathers his annual harvest here,
With roaring like the battle's sound,
And hurrying flames that sweep the plain,
And smoke-streams gushing up the sky:
I meet the flames with flames again,
And at my door they cower and die.
Here, from dim woods, the aged past
Speaks solemnly; and I behold
The boundless future in the vast
And lonely river, seaward rolled.
Who feeds its founts with rain and dew;
Who moves, I ask, its gliding mass,
And trains the bordering vines, whose blue
Bright clusters tempt me as I pass?
Broad are these streams--my steed obeys,
Plunges, and bears me through the tide.
Wide are these woods--I thread the maze
Of giant stems, nor ask a guide.
I hunt till day's last glimmer dies
O'er woody vale and grassy height;
And kind the voice and glad the eyes
That welcome my return at night.
4.9k
Sometimes they think they are it
the man of the house, demanding when sat, a real big hit
relishing the chain of command over those who wait on hand and foot
for they start off small, expecting so much more,
as they have written the book
But let’s not forget who is the real master here
they are just a cub, cute yet endearing,
but you’d rather be down the pub supping a beer
scratching the sofa with eyes so large they are easily forgiven
killing flies and onto mice, it is how they are driven
As the kitten is a creature yet to grow into its fold
playing like a baby does until its days of old
they’ll fight and cry like kids, you’ll hear them on the street
they won’t give up, soft yet tough,
never knowing when they’re beat
A dog is fun and obeys command, yet these things rarely do
you’ll call all night, their name out loud, but never return on que
yet eat you out of house and home,
Felix down to the last lick of the butter tub
as they are animal of selfish wit,
a beast when grown but will always be my,
Little Lion Cub
JJB
Jul 21, 2018
Jul 21, 2018 at 2:04 PM UTC
Escape
so wanted
but only comes
Once a year
for me.
You see me standing
here,
yet you do not see
the hands that hold me
to this world
that's not
my own
with force so strong
I cannot leave.
I cannot
slip
away.
My world
with grass so soft and lush
purple sky
with blue that
leaks like a stream
through a garden.
The lonely tree
so tall
a single branch
weighed down
by a swing.
my swing.
Walk some ways
down the hill
so steep
that in this world
you'd fall right off the edge
and down into the sky.
But you aren't in this world
you're in mine.
And you'll find a circle
of stones laid out
around a pit
of electric blue
the flames of a fire
but it
wont
burn.
Spread your arms
fall backwards
into flame.
This world obeys
ask for flowers
and they will grow.
I wave my hand across the sky
and
paint
a
rainbow.
But these hand so strong
grip me here
this world
where nothing changes.
overcome by sadness,
and half
as mad
as me.
Nov 7, 2012
Nov 7, 2012 at 11:27 PM UTC
I am the unnoticed, the unnoticable man:
The man who sat on your right in the morning train:
The man who looked through like a windowpane:
The man who was the colour of the carriage, the colour of the mounting
Morning pipe smoke.
I am the man too busy with a living to live,
Too hurried and worried to see and smell and touch:
The man who is patient too long and obeys too much
And wishes too softly and seldom.
I am the man they call the nation's backbone,
Who am boneless - playable castgut, pliable clay:
The Man they label Little lest one day
I dare to grow.
I am the rails on which the moment passes,
The megaphone for many words and voices:
I am the graph diagram,
Composite face.
I am the led, the easily-fed,
The tool, the not-quite-fool,
The would-be-safe-and-sound,
The uncomplaining, bound,
The dust fine-ground,
Stone-for-a-statue waveworn pebble-round
4.2k
She knows exactly how I feel
She swept me by me heel
She stares into me charmed eyes
She must be seeing paradise
She holds my arm to feel me pulse
She instead feels something else
She sees a lad with much affection
Feels fragile warmth that needs attention
She holds me tenderly in her embrace
She places my arm about her ***
She raises hers and lowers me head
She steals a bite of me lip instead
She then whispers words like magic
She probably senses me past is tragic
She slides her arm 'neath me shirt
She asks "was it so bad, the hurt "
She has her reply before I give it
She guides me through to her room
She believes it beautiful I assume
She starts for me lips soon as we sit
She has her way with me and I obey
She pauses for breath,eyes bright as a ray
She holds me firm, can't keep me calm
She sighs as I go above and on I turn
She's a ****** afraid I might do her harm
She obeys when I tell her it'll be a balm
She sees it'll soothe as I take off her dress
She shuts her eyes in honey grace
She screams as I cut to the chess
She sheds a tear, maybe she's badly hurt
She clings on when I lose my hope
She turns me down, she's now ontop
She whispers, "started it, I'm the one to stop
She's something from far outer space
She takes me up on a slower pace
She knows I'm her car,carefully she drives
She's a good swimmer,how perfect she dives
She then disappears soon as I'm on the crest
She leaves me in the dark, can't stop the rest
She's no Angel, I have to deal with the cream
She's an illusion,they call it a wet dream
She's just a nightmarish dream I honestly hate
She leaves me cursing my pants,they're wet
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 4:52 PM UTC
She, my cutter,
my body, her cutting,
with tongue and finger nail,
any handy human implement,
she sculpts me to
her eye's configuring delight
she, grabs my wrist,
and my face
by her hands embraced,
unblemished once
now becomes scarred tissued,
no guise, no lies, no bearded mask,
no disguise -
all forsaken
hidden hardened skin,
speckled red/white translucent,
she kisses with adoration her
heart designed
objet d'art
*no better blade than she,
with every cut,
transformed, she becomes
my devotee,
I, her escapee,
I am her, she is me,
inseparable, my every command,
she obeys*
for our love cuts both ways
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 2:14 PM UTC
Upon a huge, lush garden,
on a cold autumn day...
various leaves fall, in sweet surrender...
some still rise and go with the forceful wind
floating...along with dreams, wishes and prayers
murmured in the air...uttered fervently
...from near......or faraway places
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
papers, leaves, souls, sighs, and whispers
all circulate, dance in the air...blending with nature
like drifters...and seekers, far from their homes
their habitats...their comfort zones,
suspended, in the atmosphere of every season
...yielding...to the will of the wind,
...while the wind obeys...the will of God
they swirl...land, on new destinations
face new dimensions...
friendlier seas...no more running, just waiting,
while winds of change settle down
touching new base, new grass,
hoping, for a peaceful existence,
for some....the end of life's turbulent journey
..........on safe...tranquil grounds...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
somewhere near, or far...huge gardens exist
where leaves fall, where some rise again,
where new beginnngs, new lives are offered...
havens that welcome and accommodate
...refugees...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sally
Copyright August 27, 2016
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 2:32 AM UTC
I don’t know what she has —
but it pulls me in
like the tide obeys the moon.
Every glance
is a spark against my skin,
every word
a knot in my breathing.
I want it all with her —
the mornings, the storms,
the years I haven’t lived yet.
When she walks into the room
my hands forget themselves,
my heart trips over its own steps,
and I realize —
I’m not just in love,
I’m hers already.
Aug 13, 2025
Aug 13, 2025 at 4:01 PM UTC
SHIVA
(Bijoylakshmi Das)
The silence of night scares you
With its eerie thoughts
Ever azar with doors wide open
To give vent to unrestrained dreams,
Never letting you to rise above
The mundane laws of existence.
Do you ever think of SHIVA
The eternal principle of the Sublime?
Sitting alone on the peaks of the Himalayan silence,
Speaking to you in His divine muse-
Of ineffable ecstasy.
The body is not all.
That obeys the physical laws,
The mind is not all.
That listens to odd yearnings.
And the spirit too is not your limit.
You have to go beyond
Far beyond life's petty limitations
To reach Truth, Consciousness and Bliss.
SHIVA, the enlightened.
Which translates human dialects
Into an indefinable divine hieroglyphic.
SHIVA, the Supreme
Creates the Universe,
Rules it too,
Annihilates when Harmony loses its identity.
The universal principle of Love
Gets bewildered in empirical rules of earthly existence,
And Spirit fails to rise above,
SHIVA opens His Third Eye,
In its piercing gaze
All lights fade and
The fugitive human mind finds no sojourn
He warns you.
Arise, awake
To reach your goal
Beyond the earthly ken.
(Bijoylakshmi Das Haridwar)
Jan 13, 2020
Jan 13, 2020 at 7:31 PM UTC
hole in the sky. tap tap, the empty vessel flows out. a weightless sink. the hour goes, blaring swell of humidity, and the jug lukewarm, leaven oft in the barred space. I return to my room. I drink the cold milk on the sill. I finish the third wretched spill of the journey to Olympus.
Downstairs a howl, a wind slam SOLOM OBSERVATIONAL MATRIX STRUCTURED TASKS AVAILABLE IMMEDIATELY TO ASSIST WITH INSTRUMENTAL DECISIONS. I close the door I close the door I close the door I close the
In this uneasy slumber, the bed shakes, the windows rattle, the sky splits, the earth floods a red simpering capitulatory spasm of earthly flesh. Here is the circuit, the tired nervous tic of inaction, I shrink back from the outstretched hand, a condition which recommends two pills in the morning to mask the double image beneath my hands.
i have slept through the week again, this pathetic flesh obeys nothing, where are my pills inescapable ******* dullery
THE JUG IS HOT. I return to my room. I close the door two pills on the sill to go down with the milk
THE DOOR SLAMS GALL BUCKLING FIT ODE BREATHLESS CLOSER CLOSER CLOSER BUT THE SOUND REMAINS
Figures muffled by the walls. There are guests in the house, the looming presence of multiple species with incomprehensible intentions. In a bout of uncharacteristic curiosity, I slip my sight through the crack of my door. UNDER RCG IT WILL BE MANDATORY FOR ALL CUSTOMS CARGO REPORTERS IN THE AIR SEA AND ROAD INDUSTRIES TO SUBMIT REPORTS TO SARS ELECTRONICALLY. I am unmoved by such perceptions. I prepare the final climb to Olympus.
the cyclone is ended. the front door is barred. the jug is cold. the yard is littered with unmoving shapes.
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 11:19 PM UTC
...
new moon
"just let me sleep,"
moon eaten
my absence upsets all.
Look at me, really look at me,
stare up at the belly of a loved sky,
watch fingers dipping into bowls of blood holding hope,
feeling around for a sliver,
of sweet milk,
of relief,
of anything;
new moon whispers
on the dead bodies left behind,
god sighs---
he knows;
"I am not the same"
waxing crescent
map out my wreckage,
my skeleton of poetry;
in the spines of books loved by mankind,
bury me there in a pages of flowers---
in the altitude of words;
read me with a hunger you have never known before,
over and over;
whenever it seems fit~
like the light of the moon is a cigarette.
smoking,
he's always smoking now.
god takes another drag;
he describes to me:
*"You could be my bible,
you book of blood"*
I can't stand smoke...
"I have no business in being your holy snakeskin."
first quarter
I've been searching for
solid ground, solid shadows,
a solid compromise;
I wanted a little more
than ordinary love from him so I
asked him where the static began,
for me it's below my bottom left rib
and found that it was also where the spiders started too.
Time, that quiet thing
obeys god, only
because it waits for no one
it loves
unzipping the law of alchemy,
cause ink flowered in my blood again;
I should thank time
it was this saving kind of grace;
always has been
god stroked my hair this time
and said quietly:
*"You see,
the saddest thing is realizing
that there's nothing more they can do for you"*
waxing gibbous
Oh, where's my love?
Is it in the fever I call happiness,
is it in the sword my mama raised me to be
Is it in the way
the moon tiptoes closer
when he says my name
in that beautiful way he does
or breaks my name
over his teeth like it's just
glass apples
God doesn't even look at me
he doesn't have to;
"Do you believe in angels?"
the wreckage answers him
"not lately"
full moon
And it begins again
I watch as he just looks away
and says it's fine
it hurts
god narrows his eyes but shrugs
"Pain had other plans for you."
I breathe out raggedly;
***"I guess,
if there's no key
then I'll just swallow the whole door."***
...
Feb 26, 2017
Feb 26, 2017 at 9:30 PM UTC
Anxiety reverberates through my body. My chest becomes so heavy that it feels as if a cinderblock has been lied down on it. All of my body's involuntary functions pause to listen to the demons that live in the back of my head. The demons announce to my anatomy that I have no worth, no value. The demons mock my lungs, "Why work so hard to keep her breathing when nobody on earth wants her alive." My body receives the criticisms and obeys the demon's demands. My lungs quit. I cannot breath. My mouth quits. I cannot speak, the only sounds escaping are soft screams. My ears quit. I hear nothing, besides the demons. My stomach quits. It tries to commit suicide by consuming itself causing me to curl into a ball in severe agony. My eyes try to fight off the negativity. They push the negativity out through tears, but it isn't enough. They look myself over in the mirror, trying to find some value. My eyes explore my entire body, searching desperately for something beautiful, something worth fighting for. They find nothing, but disappointment. My hands fight too. They find a blade and slide it across my wrist, a demon escapes me through the tear in my skin. My body feels a slight relief, but soon a different demon rekindles my self disgust. I let the blade dance across my body, over and over again, feeling slight relief each time. Eventually my entire body is bleeding and I am still only slighting relieved of my pain. My eyes work with my hands on the search to find a place to help the demons to escape. There is no place on my body left, that I could use to release my demons. My crying has stopped and enough demons have left my system to breath comfortably. I put the blade away, and slip into bed, my entire body aching. The physical pain is much easier to handle than the physical and emotional torture the demons would have caused. I lay in bed, trying to be as still as possible to avoid agitating my wounds. I cry to myself silently, because I know I'm going to have to rip myself open again tomorrow night. I feel numb enough to eventually to fall into a slumber. Will I spend the rest of my life rereleasing the same demons over and over again, just to feel unsatisfied and numb? Are my demons right? Is my life worthless? Especially considering I'm at my best either when I'm unconscious or when I'm numb? I am so tired of being numb. Agonizing numbness.
Aug 16, 2013
Aug 16, 2013 at 8:55 PM UTC
He has a greedy look in his eye
as he licks his lips.
He climbs on top of her
holding onto both her wrists.
He ***** on her *******
then slides his hands to her hips.
He wants a taste of her now,
he can't resist.
So he grabs her throat
to choke her,
then yanks her
******* off with a rip.
He spreads her legs wide open
and she gladly obeys.
He slowly licks her up and down
as she moans his name.
Then he buries his tongue
deep inside of her
until she explodes all over his face.
Oct 31, 2020
Oct 31, 2020 at 10:25 PM UTC
a man chooses
a slave obeys
trapped between artificial walls
yet the mind runs free
physically bonded
yet the thoughts are free
a man chooses
a slave obeys
if your mind is free
you are free
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
An explorer lives within me, smouldering
Beneath the opaque layers of my being.
She is at once a soul herself
And an inseparable force of my own.
This explorer knows no limits,
And obeys no law beyond those of physics.
She entertains no fear, for she has seen
The Divinity of her existence.
Oh, how I long to let her run wild!
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 7:51 PM UTC
My chenille duvet covers me
Consumes me
It has swallowed me up again and let me escape
To a world where the bills don’t exist
My homework is finished
The dishes don’t need to be done
The cats are fed and fast asleep
My son obeys to go to school and listen to his teachers
My chenille duvet hides my reality
The reality that
The bills still aren’t paid
The dishes are still there
The homework keeps piling up
The cats are at the foot of my bed, begging to be fed...again
My son has yet again skipped school and tried to come home, not knowing that i am under my duvet
My chenille duvet allows me to feel no pain
It allows me to forget
Even if for a little while
Under my chenille duvet, the world is silent
My feet are warm
My mind stops racing
My heart stops beating as if ravaged through my chest
I can breathe
Every day gets a little bit harder to leave my duvet
My old ragged gray soft duvet
I long for you during the day
On the days when i am in class and don’t have my homework to hand in, because i am so tired
On the days i get a call from my sons school asking where he is, when i know i dropped him off
On the days i get home, and the dishes are still there
On the days i get home from a 12 hour day, and realize i forgot to buy cat food again
On the days i come home and cringe going up the stairs as i pray they didn’t turn my electric off again.
My gray soft fuzzy duvet, I miss you
Why can’t you console me all the time?
I don’t want you to leave me
I need you to stay and make it all go away
May 1, 2016
May 1, 2016 at 9:17 PM UTC
If you're the sun
Then I'm the moon
And I've always loved you
In some form or another
Moonlight is still sunlight
It just depends on how you look at it
And I've been turning my head sideways
Trying to see you differently
But no matter how I change
my angle
You still hang upside down
A fresh perspective
in a universe that obeys the laws
of human reasoning
You're a halo in a world of horns
You light up a room
Better than any store-bought chandelier
There is no replacement for authentic passion
Classic daring
Vintage charm
Pulling me to you like gravity
Cause if you're the sun
then I'm the moon
And I only wish to shine for you
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
Busy Busy
All around.
Lost inside a world
Of sound.
Breakfast food
Is being served
Much too loud,
Can’t hear a word.
Children laughing,
Baby cries,
Teachers run
With bloodshot eyes.
And yet amid the
Morning roar,
Sits a hungry
Little girl.
Apple gripped inside
Her hands
She obeys her tummy’s
Strict demands.
Hustle Bustle
Drowning out
Her shocked and fearful
Little shout.
Thieving apple,
Evil food,
Took away
Her baby tooth.
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 3:56 AM UTC
I WILL BE THE MATCH TO YOUR FIRE//
I SHALL BE THE HEAT THAT EMITS
ABOVE AND ALL AROUND YOUR FLAME//
I SHALL MOVE AND SWAY
UNCONTROLLABLY LIKE A MUSE
THAT OBEYS THEIR MASTER//
I SHALL SWEAR MY HEAT TO PROTECT YOU
TO KEEP YOUR ICHOR FROM FREEZING
TO KEEP YOUR SOUL SNUG, ALWAYSS//
I SHALL BE INDESTRUCTIBLE
and i only ask of you
to not ponder on why...
i am so threatening
I WILL BE THE MATCH TO YOUR FIRE//
and i only ask of you ..
to not ever be the reason
my flame extinguishes.
Jul 4, 2015
Jul 4, 2015 at 12:38 PM UTC
How useless would that computer be
That followed its own desires,
Never trusting the commands
Of its rightful User?
A computer that shuns it's purpose
The power of it's dutiful, expensive organs,
A body created for service to others,
Wasted potential sitting dormant.
That Computer escapes destruction,
That obeys without hesitation,
complete dedication without limits,
Overclocked and freely giving.
That Computer receives good things,
Care, and trust and abundant use,
The User can do miraculous things
That only the computer makes possible.
It asks for nothing and yet receives
When it's parts wear out, they are renewed
The User gives what the computer needs
A bond exists that is fruitful and true.
That computer lives forever,
That loves the User
Above all else.
Jan 10, 2020
Jan 10, 2020 at 11:20 AM UTC
"Hither, Feather, come from the wind!"
The Feather obeys, gliding
Gently to the voice.
"Feather be tethered tonight to the letters! The letters of lovers!"
The Feather floats on it's own breeze
Down to many sleeping lover's papers.
Gliding across each page so swiftly,
Feather penned every affection
Each lover felt for the other.
Bodies and personalities,
Actions and words.
All were described
In detail like a bribe.
The last letter being finished,
Feather fluttered around the room,
Waking each lover from snooze,
So their love would blossom and bloom.
As the sun dawned in the east,
Feather returned to the sky.
Seeking out the voice again,
Chasing it to it's joyful cries.
"You have done well, Feather! Return to your wandering ways."
The Feather returns;
Following its winds.
So the next feather you see on the ground
Pick it up, and let your lover not frown. :)
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 12:23 AM UTC
Demand the climate obeys orders.
seek vengeance on the scientists if it declines.
turn over the redwoods to the firing squad
for taking a stand.
shake a fist at the sky till it blushes.
request the clams to clam up till you're done talking.
hide the fish in the sea
because everyone needs one.
Expect the mule to make up its mind.
tempt the desert with some water.
torture the water with some desert.
attack the salt flats for being too dry.
file a complaint against the rattlesnakes
for causing such a ruckus.
question the cactus till they give up their values.
Force the leaves to show their true colors.
slaughter the weeds 'cause they don't belong here.
silence the wind till it agrees to stop singing.
moon the moon for serving moonshine.
sentence squirrels to a life without acorns.
terrorize the trees to do your ***** work.
Infringe on the kumquat's rights.
bury the berries, uproot the roots,
ravage the cabbage, spoil the soil.
arrange the oranges to reflect the sun.
lecture the watermelons on how
you scalped more natives than anyone.
declare war on the avocados to prove your point.
Nag the children to bear the weight on their shoulders.
rifle through the planets to find what you want.
crack open a book and read a poem
that defines this all as the
End.
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 11:41 AM UTC