"outset" poems
Weary and weak,--accept my weariness;
Weary and weak and downcast in my soul,
With hope growing less and less,
And with the goal
Distant and dim,--accept my sore distress.
I thought to reach the goal so long ago,
At outset of the race I dreamed of rest,
Not knowing what now I know
Of breathless haste,
Of long-drawn straining effort across the waste.
One only thing I knew, Thy love of me;
One only thing I know, Thy sacred same
Love of me full and free,
A craving flame
Of selfless love of me which burns in Thee.
How can I think of thee, and yet grow chill;
Of Thee, and yet grow cold and nigh to death?
Re-energize my will,
Rebuild my faith;
I will arise and run, Thou giving me breath.
I will arise, repenting and in pain;
I will arise, and smite upon my breast
And turn to Thee again;
Thou choosest best,
Lead me along the road Thou makest plain.
Lead me a little way, and carry me
A little way, and listen to my sighs,
And store my tears with Thee,
And deign replies
To feeble prayers;--O Lord, I will arise.
15.4k
My enemy let us compete,
in game unique, offbeat.
This is my father's vintage gun,
using it we'll have some fun.
Rules of the game let us fix,
bullet is one, chambers are six.
Rotate the chambers putting bullet in one,
where is the bullet will be known to none.
Pointing each one's head in turn,
we'll pull off the trigger one by one.
At the very outset brain can rend
or game can go till the very end.
Six times of nervous ******
is enough to make the projectile burst.
With anguish and pain looser will yell,
very soon his soul will reach fiery hell.
Winner's anger and hate will get a vent,
future will give him enough time to repent.
My enemy let us compete,
in game unique, offbeat.
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 11:30 AM UTC
Tipping point reached, one final breath
Let the waves of inertia crash, contaminate
....
Alone in complexity, machinery, and everything
Perfectly formed human being
Slowly turning sour by the minute
Stale air, only growing in its bitter taste as
Seconds that feel like hours, add to feel like years
All the plans i made
All the plans i planned to make
Gone, but not forgotten
But then they were gone
Truer statement never read then
What i read on the back of the final bit found
Within my reach
Filtered through a layer of sediment
settled over my vision
Sanitized as life had been
But my shelter having been breached
To seep much longer...
Too accustomed, but it doesn't help
Found lacking in the company I had hoped to keep
A poor atonement, sinking further
Or, it kept rising
I was nearly covered.
.....
They stepped a little closer
And left appalled by what they found
Rotting in the dark, silently
Defensive at the outset, shaking at the sound
Sounding incomplete
Face down this
Eventual ending
For me
Jul 28, 2018
Jul 28, 2018 at 5:12 AM UTC
by
rgpage
in a latter year of my third decade
my twenty seventh to be sure.
i was young and strong, not bad on looks
still seeking my maiden pure.
in my earlier years i’d traveled the globe
the compass far and wide.
i went to war on foreign shores
for uncle sam, but not our nation’s pride.
viet nam took many lives
and ruined many more,
from the outset waiting my long
trip home i felt so insecure.
in those few years my way was nye
i traveled from bar to bed.
with whom not knowing nor caring why
to block the demons in my head.
i lived this way for six long years
not seeing life and life not seeing me.
anti-war riots and widow’s tears
a mother’s cry and father’s plea.
six empty years past the stench of war,
and a life now gone that i once knew.
a stranger then to all once loved
and friend to very few.
now looking back it was then i feel
God saw i had no worth
for this was when i first met you,
an angel come to earth.
it was then you came into focus
you were all that i could see.
you gave your love and took me in
and brought out the best in me.
now forty three years have passed since that day
you came into my life.
i still see you now w/ that young man’s eyes
when i took you for my wife.
Dec 2, 2011
Dec 2, 2011 at 11:53 AM UTC
*where are women really safe?
how is it that society-collect FAILS
as humanity stumbles yet again.. and again?
our lady-folk are not safe*..
Amaya-bai finds little comfort but in sibilant-twin
as no eye of sun nor ginoo laid eye on this binukot
Olga is the silent-saint; believes in charity at home
yet chaos ensues too easily - she is wronged and just gets.. lost in the system
Zandile fetches precious amanzi in her sun-soaked calabash
her vigilant-sister falls.. roving guerrilla-men from the river's edge
Michelle, la petite belle, survives the daily-grind via low-coin
tubes to Champs-Élysées as assistante-de-pharmacie
Aadita, from the outset at 15, dons a veil hiding ****** acid-burns
she has some relative-luck to escape sati later on
Amy with downtrod-heart, grabs the tram to downtown family
wearing dark glasses and gloves on rainy-day blues
Emiko graced (yet cursed) with beauty struggles with ancient-practice
despite the ban, silent-suffering lotus-gait in the tiny village
Aisha may be alive but not well from ethnic-marking tragedy
as irugu are outcast from all-too prevalent gishiri-cruelty
*might as well take a trip to Vladivostok
or be dumped in a sarcophagus
beneath the Pyramids
safer there*
S T - 27 sept 2013 - freitag
Sep 27, 2013
Sep 27, 2013 at 3:59 AM UTC
A dying man does nothing easy,“Lock and load. Let's do it”,said G.W. Green
Right before Jack Pursley sent 3-5 grams of sodium thiopental coursing through his veins
in Texas. Sticking with the states motto it was probably 5. As lethal drugs flowed into his arms, he used an obscenity to describe life, gasped once and made no further movement.
Imagine his brief confidence in the face of this adversity, before the heart’s blood
Settled in the ventricles.
Some have called such confidence a monstrosity titled, “Hubris”--
Alexander of Macedonia thought it necessary, to cross the turbulent river against fear
-ful odds. For destiny demanded imitation of his exemplar Achilles
Quickly eroded was this by the pleas of Parmenio, who reasons it would be,“failure at the outset.”
Imagine Alexander reciting the words of G.W. Green, instead of heeding to this squelching caution
How quickly we’d throw this decisions bones in the pile, with ******
In Stalingrad & Nixon in Vietnam
All to be shoved in to, a mass grave of faulted zealots.
Covered with soil, bitter compost not to be forgotten
Rosemary sprouts next to a burning
bush in Iraq.
Dec 25, 2012
Dec 25, 2012 at 5:36 AM UTC
#Today I wouldn’t tell you about me
I would tell you about the green coconut
His eyes begged me a drink
*Good sir just ten rupees
Fountain of life
To quench your thirst
Feed your hunger
All these sir for so cheap
Have it one please
For just ten rupees*
His shriveled face
Shrunken eyes
Stretched palms
Offering heal of pain
Life’s fountain
For just ten rupees
His eyes begged me a drink
He knew my thirst
His healing remedy
Green coconut
Building between us
A bridge
For ten rupees
I’m sorry I failed
In what I said at the outset
For now standing here
I’m telling about me
An empty green coconut in my hand
In his eyes me
In this distant land!#
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 1:53 AM UTC
glistening
morning dew
the sky
a golden hue
you’re in bed
with someone new
you are in love
with only you
you say we’re done playing
this hurtful little game
ruining the reputations
of both our names
but when I suggest
we start taking things serious
you respond by telling me
that you are still curious
about the bodies with which
you haven’t yet had sx
every time you say it, you break me
like I’m one of your objects
you think I don’t know you?
we’ve already met
took me a while
didn’t realize at the outset
your face is different
now you’re a brunette
but the game’s always the same
and it hasn’t changed yet
say whatever you can
just to make her wet
say what she wants to hear
and what you want, you’ll get
“tell her she’s the only one you’re talking to
her dress might hit the floor”
“tell her that you care
she might let you make her sore”
“tell her you can’t breathe without her
she might let you go hrdcre”
“but if you tell her that you love her……….
then you’re guaranteed to score”
so I know what you do
and I know who you are
and right now you’re in bed
with Red Crop Top from the bar
she’s still sleeping so you text me
“I love you,” with a heart
wow...
even Pinocchio’s nose couldn’t stretch that far
you’re in bed
with someone new
so the blame
goes to you
because I can’t be happy
without you
but I can’t be happy
with you too
you break hearts and promises
it makes me blue
if only I could
get over you
I can’t get over
while I’m still under
you’ll never love me
that will be your greatest blunder
you make my heart break
can you hear its thunder
I wanna text back
but you’re with her
I’m sure last night
is still a blur
quick! put the phone down
she’s beginning to stir
she’ll say “good morning”
with a seductive purr
you’ll search your mind for a name
but you can’t remember her
“was she really worth my pain?”
my mind will wonder
but I decide to reply…..
“I love you too”
glistening
morning dew
the sky
a golden hue
and you’re in bed
with someone new
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 2:16 PM UTC
I came, I saw
but I did not conquer
it wasn't my goal at the outset
to win a battle --only to wonder
what the whole wide world
to me held in store
I returned a little wiser
and am eager to venture out for more.
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 8:10 PM UTC
He dreamt he was Sappho's trusted companion,
To whom she shared her love's poetic lessons.
And then came this moment of revelation;
He longed to be a woman and make love to her.
Things are not as they seem at the outset,
That part of him madly in love with Sappho"s secrets
Didn't really know is it her body, soul or poetry
That made him go mad with an intoxicating pleasure.
The other part of him in love with himself more,
Protested"I desire her like a man does a woman"
Love is insane often, it is hidden within the masks worn.
In every passionate love affair, is a river of fire to cross.
Love puts him in a dilemma,without any resolve at sight.
In a life ensconced in fantasy, he is steeped in a love stupor
If ever he again wakes up, he'll try to make lasting peace,
Slosh in the poetic wine of Sappho and desire her all the more.
Mar 5, 2017
Mar 5, 2017 at 12:54 PM UTC
Sacrifices don't always have to come at the expense of pain. How often we recognize, after the fact, that had we done things correctly the first time it would have certainly come out right from the outset. Then again, how many of us learn this lesson and put it into practice? However, when we look at things through a more spiritual light, our questions become more precise. We are then forced to consider the deeper meaning of our existence and what it all means.
Everything In Life Has a Price
Pain and suffering which we are often forced to endure
are an anguish of the mind which we cannot ignore
at times we have tried to help someone in need
only to receive in return greater troubles to heed
To lose the power to do that which is right
nothing worse other than the greatest slight
while the more we might struggle to be set free
the more these troubles increase in their intensity
As we contemplate what the end will bring
sometimes seeing nothing but sorrow for everything
then our friends bare witness, what have we become
a confused conscience is all that we have won
As time goes by, left is but a single memory to recall
when this too is gone, what remains but our own downfall
so we seek an escape, some refuge, anywhere to run
but we find it is too late, our web has already been spun
Everything in life has a price, only sometimes we realize to late
how much precious time we wasted, as we approach our final gate
while the clock ticks away, and with the inevitable growing near
sorrowfully reflecting on our past, for in the end who would care
A smart man learns from his own mistakes, this he will never repeat
while a wise man learns from the mistakes of others, and becomes complete
why continue to waste time, why suffer from that which cannot be made straight
there is great benefit in choosing wisely to avoid pain, and avert that terrible fate
Reconcile yourself with the facts of life, real happiness comes only with sacrifice
it is foolishness for one to think, you can have both worlds living a life of vice
just weigh the temporal pleasures you so much sought, and what they really cost
in the world of truth we will find, only righteousness is ours, all else will be lost
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 2:55 PM UTC
Probably on the sofa,
Through pictures and achievement so far,
Taking a memory lane,
When your eyes caught my stares very profane,
Just the two of us dear,
Our bonds nothing could dare,
You and I through hardships,
Ever air was to thwart these relationships,
Just the two of us honey,
When ain’t got money,
From the very beginning,
I prayed to the ending,
Just the two of us my lady,
My lady and baby,
From the outset,
That, you got my back,
Our spirit seals and set
The love keeps breathing,
Hence we keep loving.
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 9:17 AM UTC
I must state right at the outset
that I’ve never actually been
on a female poet
or even underneath or inside one.
But I thought about this
seriously
at a poetry reading once
when a particularly sensitive
and gentle girl read her poetry
and I wondered how well
the delicacy of her ideas
and subtlety of her poem
would translate into
the carnal and profane.
It was sensuous to think about this
and savor some wine
with her afterwards.
I felt distinctly like
a priapic, dangerous Dionysius,
or a satyr sizing up a nymph.
But I licked my lips and
said I liked her poem,
then I knocked off the wine instead.
Oct 30, 2012
Oct 30, 2012 at 8:00 PM UTC
Here we broached the Christmas barrel,
Pushed up the charred log-ends;
Here we sang the Christmas carol,
And called in friends.
Time has tired me since we met here
When the folk now dead were young,
And the viands were outset here
And quaint songs sung.
And the worm has bored the viol
That used to lead the tune,
Rust eaten out the dial
That struck night’s noon.
Now no Christmas brings in neighbours,
And the New Year comes unlit;
Where we sang the mole now labours,
And spiders knit.
Yet at midnight if here walking,
When the moon sheets wall and tree,
I see forms of old time talking,
Who smile on me.
1.2k
My teacher gave me a piece
by Hindemith
when I was newly a freshman
in her studio
and she told me to study it
and play it.
I took it from her
warily
and dissected the thing
until
I thought I might die
but didn't.
Yet today
as I was weary,
I spent a long time
simply playing intervals
until they were perfect and then
playing them until they were even more perfect
and made myself breathe all of my life into them until it felt utterly natural,
and then I thought that maybe I could
actually stand to have another look at this at this awful, bizarre,
beautiful music of mourning; after all, it doesn't sound so bad these days...
That is when I understood
why my teacher, in her wisdom,
had forced me to undertake this foreign,
fragmented funeral suite in the first place. For she knew then
what I see now
when I remember
and what I hear
when I practice
and what is like the ecstacy
of laying down a finally completed task--
with a secretive knowing that you'll return to it again by choice one day--
when I perform:
At the outset,
I was not good enough
to play it,
but I was good enough
to learn it.
Nov 15, 2012
Nov 15, 2012 at 8:54 PM UTC
*A Story of Scientology and the
Mental Health System Connection*
What you are about to read will shock you. Some may find it extremely disturbing. I will tell you from the outset, also, that i am quite "insane". According to the psychiatrists "Schizo-Affective". Manic-Depressive with Paranoid features.
I will freely admit that what you will read here will sound crazy. But please read on. It may be horrifying. It may be weird. It may seem extremely paranoid. But it still interests.
It is my desperate hope that you will read. And believe me. For, my "diagnosis" notwithstanding, I am as sane as the next "normal" person. *I AM NOT A LUNATIC!* What you are about to read really happened. *To ME*. It has plot twisting tension that could be put to the credit of Alfred Hitchcock. And a psychological horror that Steven King could emulate. How could I compare my writing to the genius of those great & talented men? I don't. Because, dear readers, I did not conceive of it. It was done to me. I merely convey the technology and techniques used to make any "normal person" appear a ****** Toon of 50 mile high proportions! It exists. And it is excruciatingly painful to be the subject of it.
So why would a girl from a comparatively small city, with no seeming accomplishments to commend her, and is actually quite unimportant, be the subject of such hateful torment? *What has she done?* I will convey ALL of the reasons. I did play a part in it. I had a tri-fold lawsuit against a once-high-profile video dating club, who wanted to prevent litigation by thoroughly discrediting me. And I had a very virulent and hateful foe...
The "Church" of SCIENTOLOGY.
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 8:56 PM UTC
That soft symphony enchants my senses
Spiraling my emotions each out of control
Amatory temptations blossom ever more
With every second she caresses my soul
All of those words charmingly resounding
Written carefully from the outset of the nib
Impeccably sung by the heart of an Angel
Yet composed sweetly by a young cherub
Soft and yet graceful this Angel sings forth
Pure elegant tunes coming from her heart
A sacred seamstress of poetic perfection
Her voice, purity - a Heavenly work of art
Venerated forever, she sings melodiously
Using all of the notes I have come to love
Gazing at her singing I then realize slowly
This Angel is more than I could dream of
Celestially precious this Angel I have met
Angelic perfection upon me she bestows
May the spirit she bares always be eternal
As the seraphic heart that within her glows
Oct 25, 2010
Oct 25, 2010 at 2:56 PM UTC
At the outset of a variable weather day
Sunlight spangles danced in the skies above
Was such a brilliance of radiant beams
As mid afternoon drew closer a change did arrive
In the grey smudged clouds rolled
Replacing the bright morn's festival
Whereupon came a moistening festival
Raindrops fell for the rest of the day
Down the damp quenching rolled
The billows unloading from high above
Which farmers were gladdened to see arrive
Their worried brows begat more calming beams
Fields lush in verdant vibrant green beams
The wetting so joyous of a happy festival
Dutiful was the timely drink's arrive
A difference made within a single day
Welcome were the heavy showers gifted above
Pasture lands looking minted and gold rolled
The reverse clime's dices had been rolled
Water storages filled with streaming beams
Such a gracious endowment up above
Unto landholders giving a grand festival
Altering the complexion of the day
Providence surrendered on needed arrive
A goodly amount of thirst saving did arrive
On the dark masses prospect being rolled
There was an improved outlook to the day
Ever men of acreage seek hopeful beams
So they can enjoy a precipitation festival
Wishing upon the receipt in clouds above
In their thoughts what is happening above
When will the heaven's bestowments arrive
Always championing the dowsing's festival
Then for them soils ideally bank rolled
On conditions being sated so nicely of beams
Will the soaking occur on this day
Festival glee awaited in the atmosphere above
Day did dawn with a dazzling sun's arrive
Rolled by the promise of eve's drenching beams
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 7:15 AM UTC
Head over heart into some distant fading darkness,
being pulled back into an almost familiar abyss.
You lost me at the outset,
but now I'm finding myself in this.
Your intent is to drown me, I know it.
I've told you far too much.
Placed every key inside your outstretched hands,
and now you're breaking all the locks.
Did I mean to let you in?
Is it too late to bar admission?
Is it even possible to get you out now that you've gotten in without permission?
You're not welcome in this place:
Intruder. Alien. Imposition.
But I'm so glad you're here right now;
please save me from this prison.
Aug 8, 2016
Aug 8, 2016 at 11:16 PM UTC
Death,
So cruel,
So kind,
Has taken my worries away;
The ones I wished would stay;
Worries, just memories.
I was left with my three,
So they obliged,
Now worries number five.
We know how worries grow,
They start so small, no worry at all,
Then they start to crawl.
We beget,
From their outset,
Worry.
Sep 10, 2017
Sep 10, 2017 at 9:28 PM UTC
Why we delay in saying what matters the most
place it at the bottom of the list
scared it might let loose a fearsome ghost
of what's last but definitely not the least!
We speak this and that leaving it aside
keep the most necessary in the mist
beat about the bush in that bush we hide
not saying what's last but not the least!
Why we speak the most needed at the last
treat it as a monstrous beast
when we have to say it and say it we must
not say first the last but not the least!
What's the point of the deferment to last stage
and not say it at the very outset
keep delaying it and blunt its edge
turn the last but not the least into waste!
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 3:09 AM UTC
The sound that repeats like the clash of swords,
The movement is such it has abrupt jumps,
Starring into it gives peace of mind,
They are the waves of the sea, well timed…
With speed they come to you at once,
Rolling and turning with the winds that rush,
Intense and forceful at the outset,
Steady and blissful towards the end…
Like your family they greet you with hugs
They wrap around your feet and create a mini flood.
You hug them back, they take you within
They are the waves of the sea, soft; like the violin…
They get their personality from the sun.
Thus changing colours now and then,
They play, as much as they can with him,
Until their mother shows up with a grin…
When she’s up watching over them at night,
Each one of them is at her sight.
They get their discipline from her; the moon.
Like sainted children they settle down soon…
When one looks at them while they’re sleep,
The mind is calm and the world complete.
A thinker’s thoughts are crystal clear,
The spirit seems free, and the heart humane,
They are the waves of the sea that persevere…
Lessons from the sea are several to learn,
The dominant one is to give up fear.
Keep moving like the waves of the sea,
For the waves there is never “an end”
Jun 2, 2013
Jun 2, 2013 at 5:17 AM UTC
**A gleaming, sharpened sword, SHE could **** without bloodshed,
HE is Buddha's gift of light, surging above, wind and waves,
they wouldn't cross each other's path it would seem, from the outset,
but both are sublime,
in higher realms they permeate, in greater cycles they spread,
the sword that's her at that level of awareness
never would shed or touch blood, but cut away confusions, with light,
whichever be the path, once one becomes accomplished,
peace would fill and lighten the soul, preparing to soar to the abode eternal.**
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 9:36 AM UTC
Hate is an Evil Within
You have feelings of hate for someone or something. Sometimes you don't even know why. Even against your will, you might not know it, or even understand it, but it plagues you. It controls you. It eats you up inside. You want to come to terms with it. Desperately you seek to put your finger at what it is that is making you feel so unhappy inside. Then, you realize it's a feeling of having "no control" over something that brings you pain. Perhaps subconsciously you're afraid that if you cannot control it then it will continue to bring you pain and /or suffering. Your ego needs a balance and this fact is causing an internal chaos you so much need to repair. To HATE, it is the most bitter of pills that we all, at one point or another, are forced to come to terms with.
Nevertheless, hope exists!
The secret to that equanimity you so need and desire is in knowing how to control, direct, or redirect this hate to make it work for you--Not eat you up alive. The best way is acknowledge that it serves no great positive purpose to hold on to it. Since anger and hatred are first cousins (never removed), it could be that there is an element of fear or the unknown is a contributory factor. If you want to overcome your hatred or dislike for someone, the best way to do so is to attach yourself to them. Give them something, or do a favor for them. Even by saying hello with sincerity and focusing on giving that hello or smile from your heart will necessarily affect that person and you as well. In fact, don't be surprised if you actually start to have misgivings and realize that the hatred and negativity was, not only misplaced, but perhaps even wholly unjustified from the outset.
Hatred is ugly, and we, as human beings, must learn how to remove it from our character traits in toto. It has even been suggested that anger leads to heart disease and shortens a persons life in general. I hope we never have to find out!
**consumes like desire
devours everything like fire
death will you acquire**
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 4:41 PM UTC
Like industrialisation
May seem
Like
Progress,
But
In reality
It's
A mess!
It's
A vacant creation
VACUOUS!
It' s
Against NATURE !
Against
Purity
And
Truth.
It's
Nothing to do with
Old age or Youth,
Biology
And
ALL
The
Ologies...
Academics
Scientists
Historians
Politicians
Theologians...
Do Not Call The Shots!
Remember
This
My
Precious
Children
Which
At your outset
Outshine
The
Establishment...
Created
By
...?
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 6:59 PM UTC