"ousting" poems
Darling, there are few facts that you
must know as a student of science,
And there are many more that you
must know as a cute human being.
There are three bearing mango trees
& one guava tree outside our home,
The guava tree is infested with the
parasitic growth of a sacred fig tree.
After many years' from today
the "Bargad" tree will grow out,
Ousting the guava tree it will finally
be free but it won't forget guava tree.
It will always feel having been parented by the guava tree, and so it might actually become a hybrid of both the trees and so a love child hybrid tree would ultimately give shade and fruits to people in the future generation.
So should the ideal love of a human being be inspired towards everyone including the ones who they love and fellow human beings - selfless and pure.
Jun 11, 2014
Jun 11, 2014 at 1:09 AM UTC
The Sunday lamb cracks in its fat.
The fat
Sacrifices its opacity. . . .
A window, holy gold.
The fire makes it precious,
The same fire
Melting the tallow heretics,
Ousting the Jews.
Their thick palls float
Over the cicatrix of Poland, burnt-out
Germany.
They do not die.
Grey birds obsess my heart,
Mouth-ash, ash of eye.
They settle. On the high
Precipice
That emptied one man into space
The ovens glowed like heavens, incandescent.
It is a heart,
This holocaust I walk in,
O golden child the world will **** and eat.
8k
Stretching and shouldering night away a sun crouches
to birth black's ousting
by one more empty circle of dark's hollowed pouches
then outs in sparkling showers.
Spangled with myriad star-labour unfolding membranes,
like numberless leaves
dreamers listen to soft serenades as the universe favours
lullaby-songs to deep breathing.
Silvered surface shivers with night-eyes as glittery dust
follows with dart-swift
flight each soul's winged journey while murmuring such
mysteries to those sleeping still.
Glimmers on sightless horizon reveal light's celebration
while untrodden dew
newly writhing in close-capped life waits inertia's frame
stirring to shake before rising.
Piercing the brain time's needle regathers worn threads
and remembers that more
sown seed means now-grown grain needs re-collection
in daylight's mind-aware storage.
Open-eyed, naught is over as hinging on less or more,
sun, with slumber done,
now hurries to open the thin partition between yawns
of torpidity to more hours won.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 5:12 PM UTC
Command or conform,
You don't have a choice,
For that's the way of the world.
Lead the pack
Or be the pack;
Your mind laying dormant and furled.
You'll be governed by strict rules,
But no, think for yourself:
Do the good, fight the evil,
Put your life on a shelf.
For when people say follow your dreams,
They don't really mean follow
It's a masquerade for *co-align with us
Or we'll leave you dry and hollow*
If you lead,
You're honourable, worthy,
But only for a while;
For if you infringe the decisions of the pack,
They'll watch your ousting with a smile.
But that is the law of the land,
The way the world works.
If you follow, you're weak
But if you lead, it hurts.
> a.t.
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 5:52 AM UTC
Orange rinds and coffee grinds
Take me back to easy Sunday afternoons
Playing chess with former churchgoers in your tiny café.
I met a man who didn't believe in God
But instead put his faith into the Queen
"She protects" he'd say after ousting another piece of mine
"He forgets" he'd mumble as an afterthought, directed at no one.
But as it goes one fateful day
Student surpassed teacher
And didn't think twice about killing the Queen.
As if a bomb detonated just within the cappuccino brown walls
The chessboard flung against the wall
Causalities flying in all directions
A porcelain blood bath.
He left in a hurried huff
All owl eyes all snapped in my direction
I sat frozen -- shocked.
You broke the trance
Kneeled down to pick up the fallen Queen
Placed Her Royal Majesty in my right hand
Placed a free coffee on my table.
The café resumed it's normal character
Scattered chatter and newspaper shuffling
I took a sip of the burnished brown liquid
Tasted a hint of bitter citrus
And came to conclude that there exists a distinct conflict between
Power and Empathy.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 11:25 AM UTC
Cain slew Abel –
Thus began the parade of
Characters whose dynasties
We remember, who decorate
Our memories.
Abraham –
He gave us all the stars
In the sky, a greater lineage
Than the grains of sand
Slapped by seas.
Moses –
The babe in the bulrushes,
The prince turned traitor
Whose whiplashed back
Parted the Red Sea.
Tempus fugit –
Geo Washington, Thos
Jefferson, Alex Hamilton –
Madison, Adams, Franklin –
Minds who created, who
Dreamed, who begat.
How many names we find
In those first tumultuous
Years – warfare and love,
Duels and decadence,
Politics and party.
Scant years later, across
The pond – revolution is
Catching on – les français
Waged a ****** scene,
Ousting the régime.
What would become a
Baby democracy – birthed
More than one new flag
And song – yet lived to
Fight again and bleed.
History is ours to hear –
We respect the honorable,
Honor the drama, revere
The prudent and refight
The battles.
The District of Columbia
Paints a new canvas – she
Sings off key, her promises
Begging for whitewash, her
Patrons vice and folly.
What offspring will such as
These sire? Are they fathers
To found a new nation – to
Garner worldwide pride, or
To slay the abled?
Let the wings of victory
Carry us back to the days
Of greatness – let us exceed
In probity and virtue – let
Freedom succeed again.
© Lewis Bosworth, 3-2017
Mar 23, 2017
Mar 23, 2017 at 11:36 PM UTC
Washington needs to wash Obama out of its hair
he's doing more damage the longer he is there
the hair strands are in need of new management
for under Obama they've received much torment
an improvement to the locks will be extra nice
as Washington gets rid of the Obama device
the Congress and Senate can do the shampooing job
which will see the Pres quickly given the fob
Washington will have a lustrous sheen to the tress
when the hairdressers get onto the mess
now is the time to employ good methodology
by washing Washington's hair with ousting technology
Oct 8, 2013
Oct 8, 2013 at 9:53 PM UTC
"We'll dance with monsters
In the night"
*You say with pleasure;
With really blind sight
You told me it is fine
But I think you are too kind
Onto me you have thrown
All your suction of hopes
Cutting down the thorns;
Cutting down the ropes
Ousting this flame
To show me that you came
I am sorry to be saying
But all your love was wasted
As my garden is decaying
Before you could have tasted
What I hold
Is not so very sweet
So I will just be bold
We should've never meet
I failed to be the light
You found in love
I failed to be your pigeon;
I failed to be your dove
And the monsters killed the melodies,
the ones that you dream
Unloved they forever were;
Their sorrows built a stream
A stream where tears shine
And the lost beasts are mine
These silent beasts are now
Just beginning to sound
Mercilessly,
I cried out;
Blatantly,
I have fallen down
And I just can not pick my Happy off the ground
You're building a palace
Where I do not belong
'Cause I have only been taking
The sing from your song
I know that you have
Been very burnt
But every new fire
Is a new lesson learnt
I am Sorry for making
You feel this pain
I am Sorry for putting
Your heart through this flame
Just please do not say
You love me
I might not say it back
Please just stay in intact
And stop all this play;
Forever is not real.
Just really close your eyes
'Cause I do not want you seeing
Throughout my disguise
I am carefully trying
to replace our bodies
For to all my cages and doors,
Are very lost keys
There is something terribly wrong
With our lungs
It is this poison of love
That we have been breathing in too long
It has fractured our hearts
Turned it really mauve
Made us golden pale
It has destroyed our sail
Shattering our wings
Scattering all the feathers
Like fast demons fly
Through the weary sky
As pretty as you make
this tragedy feels,
Broken and poor
Life is just too blue
To ever truly be
La vie en rose*
-fir.m
Sep 11, 2016
Sep 11, 2016 at 10:27 AM UTC
I start this off without any words. But they will come. This is the blessing, and the curse. Regardless of what has transpired in my life, or how much I wish to forget, the words will come. They are my salve and my damnation.
The words that find their way onto these tomes soothe and comfort my weary soul, yet the ones that hide in the spaces between curse and condemn. They haunt each fiber of my mind, traversing the expanse between my neurons on the backs of false pretenses, the sugar coated electric lies that I tell myself and repeat to others.
Alcohol is not a crutch; it merely plays the role of ticket-taker, ousting the transient, stowaway misanthropes from the boxcar of truth that is my thought pattern, allowing me to take an accurate head count.
I am afraid. I am so frightened of being who I am and making myself happy that I settle for making others happy in lieu of my desires. I am paralyzed by thoughts of failure, as well as dreams of success. I am terrified that if I should start screaming, I may never be able to stop. I am usurped by panic at the thought of another day in this drudgery that is my own existence.
I am discontent. I am not happy with the way that I have allowed my life to turn out. I want it to change before I have reached the point that I only look forward to its end.
Yet, still I continue to laugh. Again and again, I regurgitate the same old sentiments of positivity and hopeless hopefulness that I have grown so accustomed. “Tomorrow is another day,” or “It can’t rain all the time.”
But tomorrow is another day. And how should I face it if it ends up being the same as today? And it can’t rain all the time, but better men than myself have drown in a flash flood.
So why do I continue to say these things? For the benefit of myself or for the person who is listening? Which one have I become?
Aug 24, 2013
Aug 24, 2013 at 3:41 AM UTC
racing through everything that is
from your toes to the tingling skin
of those finger tips that grip hard
ousting your eyes from their sockets
before bursting you
cut off from the system
with electric still running through your veins
and the room will spin
and the room will spin
till what ever was in it
is flung out
and it will feel like coming
back to where you forgot
you came from
May 6, 2012
May 6, 2012 at 10:40 PM UTC
As Night I slipped in through the cool glass window
Gently planting kisses on your forehead
Your eyelids slowly falling
And your mind succumbing
To pleasured dreams of distant places
The docile drops of rain falling upon your window sill
Pitter-patter pitter-patter
The stray moonlight casting sterling glimmers on a chair once stolen
Too small for sitting
But just right for standing
Yet the sun had risen
Flooding the sky with aureate wonder
Rough and unrelenting
Ousting the drops of quiet rest
Rousing you from your tender dreams
I let myself out through the lacquered door
Keeping to the shadows which had blanketed us so closely
And as slowly my domain gave way to the radiant day
I watched as Day slipped in through the cool glass window
Gently planting kisses on your cheek
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 10:32 PM UTC
Write about love i implore myself
Like a little boy's plea to his father
About the thrills of a plane journey
Neither of them ever had
But how could he **** that zeal
Or dull the shine of those curious eyes
So he spuns a tale with a heart so pale
Reliving his old fantasy as if it were real
Staying put sure is mundane
But not when she's right there
Eyes closed dreaming something insane
Her hair swaying all across her face
Sometimes she would smile
Clutching his pillow tight
Unaware that her Paramour
Is awake and yet asleep by her side
How a gentle kiss on the forehead
Did pacify all his overwhelming emotions
And just one warm hug
comforted her soul ousting fearful notions
When all her silly desires
Were met by words of praise
And all his fears turn into fire
As she whispers "I know you're brave"
How could love be so easy
When life is so **** hard
Truth be told it's selfless and scarred
But In the race for survival
Compadre it's a headstart
At the end of the day
It's up to you what to portray
I say love's like the sun in the snow
But then again how would I know
For I'm just a father doing what's told!
May 6, 2018
May 6, 2018 at 7:55 AM UTC
some were conned into
doing the riddance
job
they'd been duped by
the lad's egotistical
cob
how did he gain
such an overarching
rule
more discerning folk picked
him for a selfish
mule
those of no acumen
got on side with his
ploy
they did the ousting to
aid a wimpy
Elroy
and still they're willing
in carrying out his dodgy
drift
cause the lad hasn't a
scintilla of spinal
lift
Apr 2, 2018
Apr 2, 2018 at 10:27 PM UTC
I hear the Violins,
Vouching for each trivial,
But fair feature of yours that lies chaste.
I hear the Violas,
Bearing the melancholy,
Your heart conceals deep within.
I hear the Cellos,
Pouring the velvety essence of love,
In my sullen ears.
I hear the Woodwinds,
Singing for beauty, calling for love-
All in unison.
But then the Clarinet disagrees,
For the sheer taste of dissonance.
There,the Oboe tries to moderate,
As the Flute flares up,
Emphatically proposing the passion be mutual.
Then the Strings intervene,
And all play in unison-
The purest articulation of the desire,
For love - yet unmet.
I hear the Brass finally,
With Percussion on its side,
Sounding as though Zeus were to erase Mount Olympus,
Arising turmoil,
Provoking the Strings and the Winds,
Ousting the gentle harmonies,
And ousting the gentle melodies,
And alas! ousting the very notion of love.
Yet,I love the symphony.
And You - are the symphony.
The most beautiful I've heard.
Feb 15, 2019
Feb 15, 2019 at 10:06 AM UTC
Toblin's carriage came to a halt.
As Princess Andulan the Silenced approached.
Holding a withered apple in one claw.
She sent her servants scattering with a violent gesture.
Moving with her dress held above the muddy path ahead.
She shed no tears for the dead.
Nor for Sharin's lost children,
Instead it was shown.
She had wed herself eternal.
To the countenance of one whose song has been silenced.
Death denied and sealed away,
Meant she hadn't aged a day,
Since her thirteenth birthday.
Spent with her loving father,
Jealous sisters, twins linked by envy,
They whispered foolishly from their bedcovers,
Colluded with one another to diminish her,
Because she couldn't wring their necks,
It went on unabated.
Spoiled by treasures of war,
Entitled by conquest and power,
She occupied herself and others plenty,
With her every need and whim.
Rob of years sorely removed,
From either crown or privilege,
Shied away from politics, a boring brother.
Non-combative and defensive.
Amidst royal battlefields,
Internal conflicts far removed from,
Outward appearances of serene stability,
To reassure the coddled and subjugated masses,
Familial affection served to maintain those welts of submission,
Bitten into common, gamey flesh once wild and unsophisticated.
We gave them purpose where none existed, put value in place.
Of lives spent surviving.
Still he was upbeat and eager to practice,
With a violin seemingly attached to his person,
Like an inseparable portion of his soul or,
Vital *****
His hands were crafted to bring music to voids,
Unseen yet made felt by all,
Once her melodies were given voice once more,
Sharin's tears melted our hearts,
Dissolved our rage, hatred, resentments,
Causing evaporation to occur,
Ousting us from internecine nonsense,
Rob took from us that goblet of poison,
Seldom parted from by choice.
He knew and accepted his call.
Retreating to it whenever royal squabbles,
Tried to drown out his song.
Rob out-shined us all.
Remember you I shall, my dear Rob...
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 2:39 PM UTC
you can't learn intelligence,
you must be born with it,
you can learn from rhetoric
to imitate intelligence on the sly,
but eloquent speeches
are only orated once all the facts
happen, and such eloquence
ought to be used to predict calamities
ever happening, or if happening,
ousting a humbleness and immersion
in being anointed by them happening
for pride's self-worth as a welcome
emotional utilisation (for
a better accumulation of predictable
thought): better than a broom
to sweep old vacant apathetic dust i say;
god, this almost sounds like a self-help
book... got to surd it... gnome (g is a surd
in this e.g.), psychology (p is a surd in this e.g.):
so if other european languages used the latin
alphabet with stressors / diacritical marks,
there's an unspoken surd system in e'ng-galosh.
Jan 23, 2016
Jan 23, 2016 at 12:04 PM UTC
he wasn't a happy chappy
at having to share the one
stage
with two acts which were
more accomplished of
page
how brilliantly they did
spill the writing
ink
each line of the finest
ever quality
mink
of rage he felt on seeing
their pieces of
prose
a palpable anger built
inside his irritated
nose
the cronies launched
an ousting
attest
at the talentless ones
resentful
request
he won but the victory
was an absolute
disgrace
nowadays there's only
his dullness filling the
place
Feb 19, 2018
Feb 19, 2018 at 6:48 PM UTC
As the band starts laying the beat
The floor gets hot and moves your feet
Flying fleet don't you dare take a seat
Because when the fire starts to burn
It's your turn to make a girl yearn
For your hand in a passionate dance
To grace the floor with one you adore
For inside there is a passion to prance
Raise the lance in a jousting ousting
Of anxiety let the drummer set you free
For dancing is the Lord's therapy
Dec 13, 2014
Dec 13, 2014 at 3:53 PM UTC
Volumes of uncountable notions are lurking within my brain.
Ousting like scorching flames that can evaporate the pouring rain.
Needing to let them go like prisoners breaking out of their chains.
Senseless words that comes out of nowhere like bandits raiding a train.
Hailing from far beyond my head are immeasurable yet merky words.
Incapacitating my rationality yet it brings me to a place of thinking that is about to unfold.
Restless times that exhaust me withers my mind and my wandering soul.
Entirely escaping a niche that I came to call my sanity being burried in a shallow hole.
Laughing on my own while the rest of the world laughs at me.
Only to lose more of my mentality while I hid from them this epic side of my humanity.
A portion of me is on a leash since its mostly out of control.
Denting a hardened spirit that has almost took its toll.
Burning into ashes like trees caught up in the fire.
Only to rise up once more like a **** that never gets tired.
Over this life time I have accumulated more than I could actually handle.
An exobite of entries still not enough to have me dismantled.
These are the things that runs through my head on every rising day.
Breaking this habit is like an addictive vice that shall never be out of play.
Admiring my own sense of reality while I stay in color when the world is in grey.
Yearning to make more pieces of poetry in acronyms served on a silver tray.
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 2:34 AM UTC
Keep your peace, keep it near
Hang it beneath your eyes
and in your deepest of pockets
Ending of breaths
When you’re out teetering
On the edges of all things
of which you’ve grown so fond
a Balcony, front porch, car window
Whispering names to the abyss
Seeking her face in a crowd
and curves in gentle tufts of smoke
Haunted by the voice in the dark
In the corners
Though it is all your own
Multitudes of chatter
Speaking all at once
Cannot ousting the quiet
Boisterous rings of silence
Hangs heavy in the air
Drowning all, muffling words
Numbs every sense
But I have left myself here
to be drowned
This dismal, tangled world of
Decaying empty spaces, wasted
Where nothing is the way it should be
And no one is the wiser
Such is the universe I’ve made
Where I laugh about being mad
and you helped too
Everyone chipped in
Aug 24, 2016
Aug 24, 2016 at 2:42 AM UTC
Lifeblood of democracy hemorrhaging
ousting the "FAKE" president only recourse
to staunch impending grim demise,
since forefathers drafted
United States Constitution
ratified more'n two centuries ago
hoi polloi must take to the streets
denouncing severe curtailment
impinging sacred freedom of speech
linkedin with paramount bedrock provision
accessing unvarnished flint ****** "truth,"
nonetheless commander in chief
he quakingly, staunchly, vociferously...
excoriates, lacerates, repudiates...
one damning hermetically sealed,
iniquitous airtight, vacuum packed
flagrant misuse of power,
(not to mention nepotism)
invidious, insidious, injurious... infractions
incontestable, incontrovertible, contemptible...
significant melange in führer
re: hating deplorably
crooked basely barren
factual exposé after another,
deft correspondents all not quiet
along western front
(I heard Maria - mull remark)
bring "to light" execrable,
lamentable reprehensible...
gross transgressions
commander in chief
significantly overstepped
Pulitzer prize winning
prestigious storied publications
scathingly trounced, pillaried,
lambasted, insulted, denounced,
butchered, critiqued, demonized,
fricassed, gored, humiliated,...
pummeled, quartered, reviled
courageously expounding fiend
ensconced within his Taj Mahal
impregnable donjon, whereat he trumpets
laurels asper, nonpareil administration
laying groundless accusations
baring his white fangs,
twittering, naysaying, mocking.. supreme
renown gifted by "honest Abe"
recalcitrant commander in chief,
who refutes objectionable
dogged investigative journalism
every step of the way,
where dedicated news gatherers
risk life and limb
firing line reportage troopers
ferreting (foxlike) *****
doth gopher precious nuggets
uncover alarming undisputable details
impossible to refute raw bits
agent provocateur freely colluding
immediately hashtashed poppycock
smarmy, snooty, snappy
beastly capital one ogre
blatantly castigating diligent endeavors
oblivious pie in sky
delusional egotistic haughtiness
bobblehead vilified by silent majority.
Jun 3, 2019
Jun 3, 2019 at 9:29 PM UTC
So Just Like My Namesake...
In... “ The Great Escape “...
I’m The King of... The Cooler... !!!!!
Kinda Like... " Rick The Ruler "....
A TRUE School Type Mover...
TOP NOTCH Rhyme Producer... !!!
With Tunes That Are Cooler...
Than McQueen In His Scenes...
As Yup... " Virgil Hiltz "...
Showing Nazis I CHILL...
When They Try To Instil...
Ideals That Spread War...
Where Division’s The Cause...
Because I Stay COOLER...
Than Yes... " Ferris Bueller’ ".... !!!
When It Comes To These Tutors...
Whose Thoughts Should Be.....
....... NEUTERED....... !!!!!
That’s Right NULLIFIED.... !!!!!
Just Like Norton’s Guy....
And American Types....
Whose Actions DEFY....
REJECTION of FIGHTS...
Because They’re Still TIED....
To... SUPREMACIST Minds.... !!!!!!
Whose Vibe’s To *** - ide...
Based Upon Colour Lines... !?!
While I Deal In Vibes....
Where Tribes UNIFY... !!!!!
No Matter What Colour...
Or **** They STAND BY... !!!
Because I Am COOLER....
Than... Racist Wrongdoers... !!!!!
I Move With MORE Coolness...
Than Those Who Pull Shooters... !!!!
... MILITANT Armies....
Like Those In Zimbabwe...
Now OUSTING Mugabe... !!!!!
Political Parties.....
Who DO NOT Move Calmly... !!!
So I’m Cooler Than THEM... !!!!!
These Government Heads...
Who Cause Heads PROBLEMS... !!!
As Well As... DISTRESS... !!!!!
Because They Use POWER... !!!
To Use Cladding That Showers...
Like... EXPLOSIVE Gunpowder... !!!
So I’m COOLER Than Towers....
That In Just A Few Hours... !!!!!!!!
Became HOTTER Than Plotters...
Whose Movements Get HOTTER...
Than.... SUICIDE BOMBERS... !!!!!
I’m The COOLEST of Jotters...
About All This NONSENSE.... !!!
ABUSERS Whose Movements...
HOT UP... Certain Collars... !!!!!
Who Took Time To... HOLLA'...
About How They BOTHERED... ?!?
Producers And Movers....
Who Seem To NEED... “ Coolers “... !!!?!!!
To CONTROL Their LOOSENESS... !!!!!
However Some Coolness...
Is NEEDED Like Shrewdness...
When It Comes To The CLAIMS...
That Are Made Nowadays...
... SO MANY Games... !!!
That People Now Play... !!!!!
The Type That Have RACKETS...
And Strings That Pull Jackets... !!!
On Puppets And Slaves...
Who Seem To Get Brave....
When It’s LATE In The day.... !!!!!
To REFUTERS I Say...
CALM DOWN Now Okay... !!!
I Suggest You Stay COOLER...
Than London’s Commuters...
When TERROR Becomes....
What HITS It’s Stations... !!!!!!
Or Cooler Than COUGARS...
Who Move Like SEDUCERS...
When Their ONLY Future...
Is *** With OLD Suitors ...
Boozers And Schmoozers'... !!!
Whose ***** LOST IT’s Rooster.... !?!?!
So NEEDS To Use BOOSTERS...
Like..... ****** Users.... !!!!!!
As I Said... This Poem...
Should PROVE I’m NO LOSER... !!!!!
I’m Just A Producer...
of Rhymes That Are Shrewder...
Than SCOOTER Type Looters... !!!!!
Who’s... SICKER Than TUMOURS... !!!!!
And Like... " Steve McQueen "...
When It Comes To Rhyme Schemes...
Don’t Let The Rest FOOL YA.... !!!!!
I’m THE KING of What’s...
........ “ COOLER “.......
Jun 9, 2021
Jun 9, 2021 at 1:09 AM UTC