"obliging" poems
I could have gone to the cemetery,
or back to my high school lab,
find him lecturing from a podium,
bony finger raised,
demagogue of the dead.
I could break him down piece by piece,
cram him in a duffle,
a femur jutting the zipper.
Ignore the groan-
Skeletons are
by nature
never satisfied.
Instead I found myself
in the carnival lot,
The dog was long dead,
the sign kept guard.
Rusty rides slouched like tumbleweeds.
Cotton candy in memory-
blue tack crunching my teeth.
Lewd.
Skeletons fixed on poles,
spiked up through pelvis and spine.
Use ****
Grip shoulders. twist. lift.
When one slid free,
he collapsed into my arms
all bone-light, lovely,
mine at last.
I just brought him home.
Sat at the kitchen table.
Named him Curly.
Zoom howled: WAG’s gone weird!
What’s his name? What’s his name?
His name is Curly,
I said, but I knew
his name was You.
We drink wine by the pool.
He never sips.
Sometimes I pour a second glass for the glint.
Sometimes he tells me Danny Elfman
wants to play his ribs like a xylophone.
Sometimes he sighs,
he hates Oingo Boingo.
I laugh. Obliging.
So do I.
When the wind kicks up
he smells of sugar and rust.
Sometimes he rattles the glassware.
Sometimes he won’t sit still.
Skeletons are
by nature
never satisfied.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 12:11 PM UTC
I fall to my knees,
Kneeling before you,
My Master,
Groveling at your glorious feet,
To reveal the chains of submission,
Weighing down my delicate form.
You gaze upon me,
Beholding soft skin shimmering,
As my body is folded over;
Viewing my tantalizing beauty,
As I bestow myself,
To fulfill your deepest desires,
Conjuring the darkest yearnings,
Manifesting within.
“Rise, Baby Girl’’,
Your deep voice commands,
Reverberating within this crimson colored chamber,
As your figure towers over me,
Beckoning my legs to stand,
Obliging to please you,
As my hazel eyes encounter,
The blazing intensity of your own,
Sending flames to burn,
Down to the small of my back.
Fear is the armor I allow to fall,
Tumbling to the ground,
Cloaking myself in trust,
As I allow my body to be,
Touched by dominant hands,
Trussed up by ropes and chains,
To restrain to me.
Willingly becoming prey,
To the sweet, antagonizing caress,
Before your hand aggressively strikes,
My behind,
Sending me into a realm,
Of pleasure and pain,
Morphing into one sensation.
Free is the response I experience,
As you bounds my wrists,
With your tie,
Pinning me down,
Straddling my body.
Placed between your thighs,
With your heated lips,
Conquering every inch of my body.
The Sting of the flogger,
Is a bite against the skin I crave,
As silence is the language,
I choose to speak,
Feeling your fingertips claim me,
As your territory to reign over,
As you please.
I yearn to satisfy the hunger,
Starving to be your nourishment;
For Sadism to feed,
Upon masochism,
As a balance of power is established,
As we lose ourselves in fiery passion.
Dominance and Submission,
Forces meant to bond to the other,
In a marriage of infliction and reception,
Of blissful agony,
Accepting the temptations you direct,
Towards me as guide,
To obtain our darkest of fantasies.
Submission speaks out within,
The silence as I give you,
A proffered hand,
Succumbing to the sensual dreams,
You promise to me,
Allowing you to possess me in any way,
You wish in accordance to our terms.
May you indulge upon my form,
Like decadent candy you crave,
To devour,
Savoring every taste,
Sound, smell, and touch,
In this licentious dance between you,
My Master,
And me, your fervent lady,
Of submission.
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 5:18 PM UTC
1340
A Rat surrendered here
A brief career of Cheer
And Fraud and Fear.
Of Ignominy’s due
Let all addicted to
Beware.
The most obliging Trap
Its tendency to snap
Cannot resist—
Temptation is the Friend
Repugnantly resigned
At last.
4.7k
[On my birthday]
At low tide like this how sheer the water is.
White, crumbling ribs of marl protrude and glare
and the boats are dry, the pilings dry as matches.
Absorbing, rather than being absorbed,
the water in the bight doesn't wet anything,
the color of the gas flame turned as low as possible.
One can smell it turning to gas; if one were Baudelaire
one could probably hear it turning to marimba music.
The little ocher dredge at work off the end of the dock
already plays the dry perfectly off-beat claves.
The birds are outsize. Pelicans crash
into this peculiar gas unnecessarily hard,
it seems to me, like pickaxes,
rarely coming up with anything to show for it,
and going off with humorous elbowings.
Black-and-white man-of-war birds soar
on impalpable drafts
and open their tails like scissors on the curves
or tense them like wishbones, till they tremble.
The frowsy sponge boats keep coming in
with the obliging air of retrievers,
bristling with jackstraw gaffs and hooks
and decorated with bobbles of sponges.
There is a fence of chicken wire along the dock
where, glinting like little plowshares,
the blue-gray shark tails are hung up to dry
for the Chinese-restaurant trade.
Some of the little white boats are still piled up
against each other, or lie on their sides, stove in,
and not yet salvaged, if they ever will be, from the last bad storm,
like torn-open, unanswered letters.
The bight is littered with old correspondences.
Click. Click. Goes the dredge,
and brings up a dripping jawful of marl.
All the untidy activity continues,
awful but cheerful.
2.8k
Its a real life R&J; her and me
that's Romeo and Juliet don't you see?
minus the suicide of course, but true all the same
its fate and destiny that I blame
her as a Capulet, the majestic Juliet
I, the Montague, Romeo, no regret
Theres the suitor first, Paris who had his chance
This princess of a lifetime and he only offered one dance
no wonder she left him, the arrogant ***
did he really have a chance, that boy had no class.
I stole her heart with just a look, what's that say for me?
charmed i'm sure, but I'm just that **** lucky
to take her hand in just three days, lucky lucky me
she had my heart with a gesture, me happily
obliging to her every command
after all, I'm a gentleman
I have no time for swag
after all, yolo makes me gag
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 7:43 PM UTC
man leisured by the least obliging functioning
of what he terms “proper” manual endeavours of the biceps
will clearly resolve the matter being his last adventure that’s consumerism,
creating as many menial jobs as possible without the freedom
to enjoy hardish and the elements;
but of course man’s life will become easier,
but his adventure seeking will
simply become a zoology, a safari,
a safety netting - consumerism is hardly
an adventure, it’s a bicycle schematic:
one wheel produces, another wheel consumes;
most of the jobs under the hammer
were not menial, they became menial
only when heidegger’s hammer was involved
and the rebellion came when hammering nails
in turned into discussing philosophy;
it’s hard to commence an emergence of philosophy
window shopping, woman’s new kitchen area:
you know how many marriages i have seen fail
because of over-cooked pasta? too many.
you know how many glass houses i’ve seen constructed
by women peering into shop windows at mannequins?
too many. i sometimes think about sartre’s c.c.t.v. voyeurism
pervasive in english society alongside paedophilia,
and i guess the jigsaw parts fit... they do;
once dubbed the nation of shopkeepers,
now dubbed the nation of integrally ~foreign mortgage lenders
(nation of property developers / landlords... indeed,
once a nation of shopkeepers, now a nation of landlords):
or a nation re-evaluating communism
by importing slavs to talk of the ups and lows of communism
by trying to curb capitalistic egoism and turn it into a collective
without communism’s egoism father stalin:
or queen bee or queen ant china.
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
Ten years old again,
In a tree ten feet high again,
In scuffed shorts with tangled hair,
And with the boys I longed to be.
Sanctimonious girls in dresses and frills,
Boredom and constraint personified,
Stare up in incredulity
As I heave myself over mossy branches.
“Girls don’t climb trees.”
I do. I roll in mud, play racing games,
Never brush my hair.
“You’d be pretty if only you tried.”
You’d feel alive if only you tried.
The wind on my bare arms,
Dirt beneath fingernails,
Scrapes on my shins
Red and out of place
Like smudged lipstick
On children’s faces.
I’m not you. I’m me.
Boxes serve to keep us in,
Deliver us neatly packaged
To a society which cannot cope
With fluidity,
Individuality,
Uncertainty.
Boo!
She says those two misguided words:
“Make over”.
Impossible. One cannot start afresh.
This is the result of every waking moment,
Of every word heard and spoken,
Each memory joyous and painful,
A piece of art nineteen years in the making.
Not to be destroyed in one act of disguise.
Yet curiosity is my mistress.
She leads me to boundaries
I never knew existed.
Up goliath trees,
Into foreign beds,
To the brink of reality
In mind-bending worlds
Of parallels.
Like a mannequin, devoid of identity
I give my image to you
And you place yours jarringly
Onto my reticent body.
The obliging cheers
At my transformation
Into an eloquent femininity
Feel hollow and worthless.
I have done nothing of merit.
I totter like a toddler
Uncomfortable in my own skin.
I’m on stage, an act,
A project. Not a person.
How bizarre it feels
To wear a stranger’s façade
Of dresses and frills,
When you know you belong
To a different world
Of dirt, and treetops,
And freedom.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 4:26 PM UTC
The beautiful majestic mammals walk
Warmly with the perfection of family
As mother and father walk glowing
With a melting pride as their little one's
Gather around their feet
As they possess the greatest and
Largest hearts that float across this land
Grand parents follow close behind as they all
Live within the strength of a united family
The parents and grand parents
Great forests within themselves as their babies
Nestle against their solid legs like tree trunks
And shelter under huge protective bodies
Tuck under huge attentive ears
Blankets of listening love
All elephants know their priorities
As the well groomed predators
Who would desire to split are
Powerless against the energy of family
As great lions can only watch them
Softly pass through
Each elephant resembling a castle
As predators slam against
Huge thick grey walls of giant
Structures as there is no way in
Each castle bonded to each other
With the strongest and greatest gravitational love
As they create an impenetrable Kingdom
They are wild but can be obliging as they
Sometimes assist humans who like to carry
Their little kings and queens on their back
The little ones which need to be loved and looked after
They move together like a mobile mountain
As they pass through the savanna but each
Member knows the importance of getting
Out there to find food and water for
Ones they all love so very much
As they travel far and wide
Doing whatever it takes
Great paralyzing problems shrink
Within the force of family
As they lift large logs above their
Head to demonstrate to the world
Its obstacles are nothing against
Strength of family love in forward motion
Like money problems that scare those
Outside , are just smashed
Down like pathetic little twigs .
There is so much we can learn
From these giant family kingdoms
As they travel through from one generation to
The next
Softly and lovingly passing through
Aug 10, 2014
Aug 10, 2014 at 6:19 AM UTC
energy surging,
heat begetting heat
expands to dark expanse to cool and brew what slow restocking weight
with white supernal flare between
around an equipoise of center you imagined as you write
and what non-being-being residing in beneath the deep?
inspired by the question-thought embracing
death beyond what death to value life a blissful state
in even darkest reaches found
the pain a sundered gate of joy you capture with poetic greeting ploy,
that coin is split to join opposing worlds
as when blind Shiva blinded world
unbridled lust arrayed from hut to hut
obliging them his ***** to rip
but then extinguishing their rant
to foster pleading for the dance again
collecting yoga as viyoga
in samanvaya chiaroscuro maya-vidya
or adept on cosmic player focus
hate-trancendent into vast eternal love
which even Luke (14:26) dropped lovely clue to
un conditioned by contingent fondness
for what myth of real play
we stage together evermore
to frolic in the uncut hair of graves
(greenest grass to know what past)
whose leavings are for future sunrise lush to celebrate another self envisioned
in another set of singing eyes
the literal, empty, formless mien
a synthesized good-bye recursion rush
.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
SOH: (Sins over Humanity)
CAH: (Chaos averts Hope)
TOA: (Truth obliging Ambition)
Find the triangles within our hearts.
Nov 19, 2016
Nov 19, 2016 at 4:58 AM UTC
in the long ago
a randy poet
did contact me
via the site's
internal email
he requested that I should
*pen him some ****** verse*
due to me being
such an obliging person
I wrote the fellow
a few lines
of the hot and steamy
variety
he was quite satisfied
with how they affected
the pelvic region
and it engendered
such a goodly arise
Sir Percy
response
but after several months
all communication
between us
did abruptly cease
for he had found
a more seasoned poetess
to scribe him stuff
in a spicer pitch
Jun 24, 2017
Jun 24, 2017 at 11:47 PM UTC
Hi . . . This is about the kinds of people who work in corporate big money office buildings . . . Imagine them at lunchtime, how they interact and picture the scene in any . . .
Busy little bistro
Sharp - sharks - circle - the - pack
Pinstripe finned and eager
Snapping their snacks back with ease
Points to prove with nothing to lose
No cracks in their creases
They're keen to return to the fray.
These boys play with girls
Aren't yet uncles with nieces
Just unproven throwaway pieces . . .
In shiny . eat ***** . suited up . Chelsea boots
Bidding for ***** with cute looks and loot
Touting with confident ***** . . .
As mobile as their smart devices
Loose
Next . . . ?
And fresh from a mornings abuse
And fifteen years of fear . .
Beleaguered older shirts sit . .
Flogged dogs with weak barks
Parked packed into packs.
Tongue tied ties tied together
Safety is numbers
Get each others backs
These partially satisfied cats
Know today is NOT their day . .
That was yesterday . . .
Obliging lives and mortgages
The reasons why they stay
Passing Cabs cruise . . .
Seen it all before.
Sat in the back a high class *****
Glazed eyes glancing away
From her play-away payday
Nibbles in the boardroom . .
Napkins . . for the dribbles
A working lunch for this Girl
Her money-shot a wrap without applause
Was just a . . . pause . . . between paws . .
Then Dora on reception
John, who minds the door
Evie in the IT room
Or dave . . who buffs the Marble
Sparkles glinting in the floor . .
And the guards . . who guard . . what exactly . . ?
All of this . . ? Networking . . !!!
Everybody's selling something
It doesn't quite stink
But it definitely smells
A little high
As time whiles by
Seems this
Is the state of our nation
And in this state
Defines our aspirations
And yes . . this state's a splinter
Taunting my imagination . . .
Do I stake my place within this game
Or sit in observation
Commentating on a race
Where human nature fakes it's place
Where people sit as players
Yet no one wears their own face
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 12:20 PM UTC
Zoning in
Zoning out
Spacing into
Instinctual altruism
A divided reality
Obliging my death storm cemetery
This ritual madness; so intriguing
It leaves personality to the grasp of ambiguity
Immaterial realm of the fourth scenes unseen
While docile, poisoned by this vial of vile mistrials
I remain a ghost
Unseen
Mirroring black
Shadowed like a ****** mess
Stop this caress
Fading in
Fading out.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 5:58 PM UTC
I asked you to come downstairs and share pancakes with me
and you did. You are so obliging.
No. Scratch that. You are so kind.
Not just to me, either,
(maybe I hate to say I may have felt: unfortunately)
but to all the creatures of the universe.
(Except behind the backs of corporate CEOS and anyone who rapes and pillages the land and its peoples).
Your roommate is from Japan and you ask him how his day was because you genuinely care to know.
I could forgive you for almost anything.
Feb 15, 2015
Feb 15, 2015 at 8:15 PM UTC
**** seductive sensual serene super!
Open optimistic orbital original!
Mesmeric moral magnanimous mine!
Emotional exciting empath electric!
Obliging outstanding orator ohh ohh!
Natural naughty neat nice nourishing!
Excellent ****** effusive exceptional!
J.C. honey-tiger 28/05/2019
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 7:31 AM UTC
You smell like cigarettes and Paris,
Feel like midnight sweet stories.
A sunset without fears or worries.
But above all,
There’s your mixed up soul.
An entire galaxy where
Stars are collapsing
And planets colliding.
Obliging me to remember everything.
You presence,
Your absence,
Your actions.
Nov 26, 2018
Nov 26, 2018 at 6:20 PM UTC
Somethings last longer when kept in cool dry places
and I for one have found the perfect resting place,
surrounded by plenty of taken up shelf space
where I can store up my strength, and sit contented
in this inspired, quiet space, amongst the bookcases
where we are encouraged to slow our pace
in the long-lasting embrace of Carnegie’s generous bequest.
Yes, we’re blessed with quiet, at least for the most part,
apart from the softly voiced query and help at the desk,
apart from the dad reading aloud and reading time’s louder address
to cross legged, momentarily suppressed younger guests.
It’s quiet apart from the regular swish of the obliging doorway
swinging wide its welcome followed by
the vital wipe of wet feet on the new red mat,
punctuated by the unsnapping of buggy straps
and empathetic mum to mum picked-up-from-last-time chats.
It’s quiet apart from the regular slap of scrabble tiles,
clicking knitting needles
and the long considered placing of a jigsaw piece
accompanied by a contented creak
of a chair as someone adjusts a numbing *** cheek.
It’s quiet apart from the buzz of book clubs and poetry recitals
exchanging much treasured lines and long loved titles.
It’s quiet apart from the beep of books returned or issued out
under the arms of rested readers, no doubt
heading home to their own cool dry places,
reading lamps and carefully positioned comfy chairs.
It’s quiet apart from the spoken thankfulness of readers young and old,
each enjoying spending time within the fold
of this, our beloved Hanwell Community Library.
Apr 1, 2023
Apr 1, 2023 at 2:32 AM UTC
For every bit of advice on the matter
For every warning and caution against it
He would still give his heart like a fool if he could
But time has made him bitter
Time has given him every moment he needed
To become wary of what he tells others
He has become a secretive creature
When it comes to those matters deepest to his concern
True, he sings and dances and seems carefree
True, he seems loving and compassionate
But inside he is as cold and sad as any might be
Too many times he has been lured to trust
Each time he has suffered for obliging so
Every hope for intimacy he has seen crushed
Every dream of companionship he watched shatter
Until only the one thing that gives him joy is left unstained
He has tried and tried to burn away the roots
Of mistrust, doubt and suspicion that have grown in him
That coiled and bound and climbed around his heart
Transfiguring him into a blind and numb man
Changed him as greatly as a storm does the coast
Made him afraid of all the capricious good of life
The changing tide of existence became his bane
So that he hides behind a terrible, glorious, painted mask
People see of him the truth he wishes to obtain
Thinking that perfect bliss in life is already his own
Believing that he may be so happy and do so alone
Not seeing how he craves to trust and feel it is well placed
Seeing instead a man who fears nothing for the lack of secrets
Not seeing the man who is unhappy in loneliness
Only viewing the caricature of his abandoned ambitions’ success
And he was worn the lie so long that is the only truth
His heart has turned to dust and gone
His soul sputters lamely against the sea of life
Too long he has waited to forgive and say it is so
Time has made him a hollow beast with a hollow shell
He will act and act alone and never be at ease
He will suffer and suffer alone and never know friends
He will die and die alone and have forgotten love
There will never be meaning to his words or deeds
He will never again have a soul to define himself with
Jul 24, 2010
Jul 24, 2010 at 5:00 PM UTC
Wearing the crown of magnetic allurement ,
Sheathed , Sanguine , Egregious and Effulgent .
With a beguiling pace she coyly approaches in shades of shimmery reds , bowed with obliging politeness .
Gracefully walking into 'thy' life and grasping 'thy' strings of happiness.
She lives in 'thy 'mind with enticing gravity , residing within 'thy' heart for eternity.
Unveiling her true self,
shedding all dignity and peace ,
she renders her debouch self as she now plays 'thy ' perfect host.
She titillates 'thy ' mind like a ghost.
Bewitched by the 'sorceress',
'Thy' life is succumbed to the tempest.
Alas! their is no escape for she paved the way to desperation .
Captivated by the "SUPERIOR TEMPTATION" is 'thy hopeless mind swarming with aggresion and a helpless heart flanked with apprehension , depression and destruction .
Such my friend is the devastation of the " TEMPTATION "
© Mrunalini.D.Nimbalkar
Feb 13, 2019
Feb 13, 2019 at 6:25 AM UTC
Silent baby
Obedient toddler
Sincere child
Disciplined teen
Obliging adult
Doting wife
Picture perfect
depressed & anxious
shell of a human.
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 3:22 AM UTC
Nuptial state!
Is it a bond?
Is it a grief?
I can see the fire at the end,
Disappearing and untouchable stars.
What is alike?
Obliging your hubbies
Cranky babies
Are they our burden?
I screamed,
Suppressing my emotions and reactions.
What is marriage?
A little adjustment, said one.
I feel it is a full of amendments.
Accommodate yourself for others.
Is this life?
Risking our future for a stranger.
How it call as divine?
Wearing a dress of his preference,
Is this call freedom?
How to live hiding my wishes?
A heartbeat is lost a dream forgotten.
Think,
If you have a child,
Will you happy ever after divorce?
It is a real lock
Locked within a ring
Are you afarid of it?
Is it an everlasting inexpliacability
No it is not,
Think slackenly,
And prefer good...
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 11:34 AM UTC
King wing nut fancied himself a fashion savant. No one was ballsy enough to tell him "you caahnt".
He sewed a nice shirt from riverbed dirt.
"Wonderful sire was the obliging blurt.
He stitched a cocked hat made from rooster
Fat.
"Mahvelous sire was the rat a tat tat.
He sewed wooden trousers
to so many wowsers !!!
His stockings were crafted from gobbledygook.
Superlative sire!! and "Oh goodness look"
The Vapid sot laid down on a cot for a nap.
He woke at two,recharged an refreshed.
He stripped down to the skin and proceeded to sew a suit from the thinnest of air.
He stepped to his throne from the twilight zone.
bemused and with hardly a care.
What say ye now said the simplified oaf.
All eyes drifted skyward as he strutted about.
to applause and stifled guffaws.
"Your majesty has outdone himself".
"Leave the rest of your clothes in the closets and shelves.
Nothing more needs be said.
Gassed up and content with an over-sized head.
Jul 14, 2013
Jul 14, 2013 at 11:34 AM UTC
Obliging my son with a bottled formula nightcap
Glanced over at the cover of Rachel Ray
(My wife a fan; me……not so much)
I suspect
(at as far as marketing consultants are concerned)
There is something deeply rooted in the female psych
That says:
Total fulfillment can be summarized as holding an overlarge mug of a hot beverage in 2 hands
(never one hand – that’s business only)
sitting on your couch
feet cannot be touching the floor. tucked, preferably
Added success at life can be conveyed via a thick sweater or (for the wildly tasteless) a Snuggie.
Dec 7, 2013
Dec 7, 2013 at 9:20 PM UTC
Storms!
The weather vanes twirl about
in mass hysteria
North!
South!
East!
West!
Lightning crowds the skies
with white gold
Instantaneous rods of crooked steel
pierce the horizon
Booming, clamorous crunching
clap throughout the hushed heavens
quaking the frames and foundations,
making cats and dogs
rush under the beds for protection
The young ones peek out of windows
and defy their nervousness
The adults slam the windows closed
to shut out the savage elements
Blustery winds work their way
through each crack and crevice
as looming, ominous clouds
hanging low in readiness
finally burst forth like a breaking dam
People run for cover
running for their very lives
from the rods of steel
that slice the sky
ducking drops so wild and wet
that they make the very soul
shake and shiver
drenching each victim to the bone
Flowers and grasses drown deliriously
in the quenching drink
Worms migrate for safer territory
to find little comfort at all
Until the deluge is done
and the skies have decided
they have bore enough
will they subside
yet only to blow their way through
to trespass another town
their violent wrath satisfied
for now
Because they provide us with
needed sustenance
we can be obliging to them
these storms that strike us
usually against our will
Because they amaze us
educate our thoughts
and entertain our imaginations
we can be forgiving of their tempers
Jun 21, 2010
Jun 21, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
I saw a man
leap out of his car
and rush to the one ahead
to pluck a gas cap
off the hood of the trunk
and ***** it back
into its fixture
and the driver
with shocked gratitude
leaned an obliging thumbs up
out the window
and the hero smiled and waved
returning to his car
under the hasty lunch hour stoplight
and I began to hate us
a little less.
Sep 2, 2016
Sep 2, 2016 at 11:27 PM UTC