"overseeing" poems
Memes! Angels, aberrations of opposition super standing
overseeing you,
The screamin' heebie jeebies.
Yo, where you wanta go, you axin me we just go
with it, the flow 'know?
What I mean is, are we memes or mes or messes of yeses
gone all johnny rcome late-rotten scarred scared, some thing not so far
from sacred when you put your mind to the whole idea of life being
at all. Thinking this is not easy. We are Able. Our belly's living waters cry out,
you are your brother's keeper, yes, you are.
Be leavin' that be, I am is, and you is,
too. When you apprehend the meme named
war.
That meme has led the me-me mob for as far as men
remember, but
now, machines remember for us, all the facts, just
the facts, ma'am.
Why'd the d go into a comma, Pop?
Welt (Duetch, bitte) Enshaung, glaube ich, vie leicht, aber
are we ever going to filter out these German bleed-overs?
stay tuned, next week the meme beacon is pulled down,
who shall pre or post or ex maybe vail, travail, like
trip
wow, I hate being a 20 year old vet back in the U.S. of A.
FTA All the way, Airborne
******** Herman Hesse ********
Jorney to and fro the east to west, and soon, et
cetera. Siam is a mere myth now, eh?
As the Narnia thing not called a heathen lie was allowed
allowable in mere Christianity.
I've only seen the English POV's on PBS, they may be filtered through
feedback, meme belching bursting bubbles from new wine 'nold vessels about to plode into eternity, singing along.
Thank you, very much. May I introduce, duce, intro duce, y'gittin this?
Duce means 2 if you see e squeen between, you see that?
Fun. No reason for fun? Who here, now, believes that or, no,
bees leavin' those lies be told?
Hunh? Y'know? Watch man, waht of the night?
See, what I mean? All this from me hearin' some guy say,
"Come and see, like that was okeh. For any body, n'me, too.
Thinking, as a past-time, is pointless. You know, if you act like it.
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 1:21 AM UTC
ᗩIᑎᕼᗩᖇᗩ
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Ainhara is standing in her Queen's room,
staring at the door that leads to
her chamber
'My Lady...' she thinks worried before
looking at her reflection. Her mistress had
surprised her a gift of a finely made dress
of rose-silk, making her a flowing vision
in blue.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
The dress is suitable for the bright and
hot morning, light, airy and delicate
with one shoulder that is heavily beaded
with peacock feathers; the slit reveals
her slender legs, the hip appliqued with
the white lilies of her Queen's Kingdom,
and simple flat shoes.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
Her fiery locks are pinned into her usual
bun. It is then that she hears a gentle
knock on the door which she approaches
and opens.
"Did you not hear the command of the
Queen Mother?" Ainhara gently hisses,
"Queen Lyn is not to be disturbe-"
"I know, Lady Ainhara, I apologise,"
a guard whispers as Ainhara stands in
the hallway.
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"How is Queen Lyn?"
*'Drained and exhausted. She has not slept
well in three days...* "The Queen is very busy.
She is determined to complete the tasks set to
her." Ainhara sighs. "Esshi is overseeing her
meals currently. Did her mother not say all
matters of state should be brought to her?"
"Yes she did, but the shipments are set
to arrive today. And she said that once
they arrive, I am to notify you.
They have made way to the Western
Entrance."
~ ⚪♫⚪ ~
"I see. Well, let us see to it."
"Yes," The guard bows and leads the
way with Ainhara at his heels.
As she passes the open stain-glassed
windows, the cool breeze hit her,
making her dress flutter behind her
and the beadery shine and glitter.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 4:47 PM UTC
A call on the white telephone awakens the room, disturbing the crystal liqueur bottles I will never drink from. She sweeps in from the balcony where she was wistfully overseeing-
All the dogs have fled. On some nights though, I see them in some corner or some alley mouth, a pair of howitzer eyes lying in the bunker of a ruined doorway. Nobody told them it was over.
And in the studios you never see the outdoors, never see that grainy drunken view of the streets, just the pristine suites, a hint of sun and the telephone, the white telephone.
Level the rest I say. Sink and crumble any who were passed over. Cut the power lines, burn the last scraps of food and cut a perfect hole in every cinema screen. Ruins are what we do best.
It didn't happen.
It did.
But it didn't happen.
But it did.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 6:40 AM UTC
Thou art so conniving
You conspire to purge me of my sense of reasoning
Leaving me bare to suffer the perils of an incongruous world
Belittled by all and sundry
Or how else do you explain a scenario where
The words I am sorry are too heavy a spittle
To be spoken to a loved one to whom I’ve wronged
Severing a lifelong relation in the process
Could be am being too hard on you
And that you are so patronisingly benevolent
Condescendingly overseeing my rise up the social ladder
Trouncing and prancing on the shrewd and their kind
Either way I salute your ingenuity
Indeed keep up the uncanny spectacle.
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 7:01 AM UTC
Three years she grew in sun and shower;
Then Nature said, ‘A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A lady of my own.
“Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse: and with me
The girl, in rock and plain,
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.
‘She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
‘The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the storm
Grace that shall mould the maiden’s form
By silent sympathy.
‘The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
‘And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her ****** ***** swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
Here in this happy dell.’
Thus Nature spake—The work was done—
How soon my Lucy’s race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm, and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be.
1.6k
Three years she grew in sun and shower,
Then Nature said, “A lovelier flower
On earth was never sown;
This Child I to myself will take;
She shall be mine, and I will make
A Lady of my own.
“Myself will to my darling be
Both law and impulse: and with me
The Girl, in rock and plain,
In earth and heaven, in glade and bower,
Shall feel an overseeing power
To kindle or restrain.
“She shall be sportive as the fawn
That wild with glee across the lawn
Or up the mountain springs;
And hers shall be the breathing balm,
And hers the silence and the calm
Of mute insensate things.
“The floating clouds their state shall lend
To her; for her the willow bend;
Nor shall she fail to see
Even in the motions of the Storm
Grace that shall mould the Maiden’s form
By silent sympathy.
“The stars of midnight shall be dear
To her; and she shall lean her ear
In many a secret place
Where rivulets dance their wayward round,
And beauty born of murmuring sound
Shall pass into her face.
“And vital feelings of delight
Shall rear her form to stately height,
Her ****** ***** swell;
Such thoughts to Lucy I will give
While she and I together live
Here in this happy dell.”
Thus Nature spake—The work was done—
How soon my Lucy’s race was run!
She died, and left to me
This heath, this calm and quiet scene;
The memory of what has been,
And never more will be.
1.5k
Life, the present tense
Pleasant and promising
Singular & plural
Fair blend of gender
Active noise, passive voice
The grammar of life
Life is intense,
Glowing and glorious;
Blue blown umbrella
For wide void exposure
Feather touch weather
For cool n’ calm respite
Illuminated one half
To eke out living
Glittering dark on other half
To rest and recuperate
Aroma of smiling flowers
Multicolor corona
Green rich panorama
Overseeing mountains
Rousing roaring oceans
Patrolling Hydro Power Puffs
Add bonus to the bevy
What a glamorous globe in space!
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:07 PM UTC
1.
There once was a couple of cats
Who engaged in continuous spats.
The result was a tie
When each scratched out an eye –
An old-Biblical *** for a tat!
The cats awoke bleeding and weak
And half-seeing the havoc they'd wreaked
They discarded their clothes,
Their backsides to expose –
A new-Biblical turning of cheek!
2.
There once was a man, oh so brave,
Who would sleep in a hole, called a grave ...
Well, he being the host
To so many a ghost,
He arranged a big bash, called a rave
3.
In days of Neanderthal knaves
When the men ruled like kings in their caves
And not being too keen
About keeping them clean ...
Often took on some wives, called them slaves
4.
There once was a man with a stave
Overseeing a holy enclave ...
Well, maintaining a grin
While absolving the sin,
He assessed wicked tales and forgave
5.
There once was a monk with a wave
Who desired a head with a shave ...
Well, the barber was such
That she cut back too much
Thereby leaving his globus concave
6.
There once was a man in the nave,
Although pious he could not behave ...
But they paid him no mind,
’Cause his name was maligned,
Being simply a sinner to save
7.
There once was a man quite depraved
A voluptuous life was thus craved ...
Well, continuous sin
Ended doing him in –
On his tombstone they carved ‘Misbehaved’
8.
Antoine is a Vampire Ghoul,
Quite barbaric, bloodthirsty and cruel,
With a fang in your throat
He’ll **** slowly and gloat
With a smile as you whimper and mewl.
9.
There once was a raven haired Shrink
Who had orange Juice Tequilas to drink.
Well her scarlet souled Beau
****** her tinted red Toe
And she paled when he tickled her Pink.
10.
There once was a travelling sage
Who yet lived to a very old age.
Well, becoming quite senile,
With problems (yes, ******
He packed his wee trunk in a rage.
11.
There once was a Nun and a Druid
Exchanging some ****** fluid,
When along strode the Father
Who heard all the bother,
Lost stickum while coming unglu..ed.
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 1:08 PM UTC
The sun sempiternal shepherds its flock life-longly. Repetition be its brother, night be its foe. As regurgitation fumes, funneling heinous broth of decay and hostility, the tedium drips ashore, clenching its claws, raising the congregation of lunatics hellwards and in a moment of inseparable divisionism, bursts out loud, hardening the ground with desecration. Outbegotten and throughbrought, the once ****** ******* feral sons to the demented deity all above and none below, in turning, swirling and the ever-prying agony, facilitate themselves a house atop a hill. After the cacophony concludes, The Fool finds himself standing, thrice woven, wolfmeadow thrown, fistlike tenacity hit, once beholden to each beast of coppered glow. Up he reaches, but finding nought and disillusioned with disinterest he breaks down in acid tears and horrid shrieks for mercy. The inward calibre reciprocates and bursts out a tubular noise of contradiction. In all still-standing, the Queen, she of the all-overseeing, turns to The Fool and parlours him a wisdom: "I am unto you as a universe is unto itself. I am within you as this earth is within me. I am you and you I shall stay. And when you at once turn dust-wards, I shall, bereft but forthlooking, beget you again." Aghast with sudden agonising fragility and from the cosmic incantation a ghost arisen, The Fool in all his momentarily found glory and happiness conjectures himself a vessel to venture upon. What he once missed he now resides in. He found it and now he rejoices. To Youth, at long once and at once forever.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 12:36 PM UTC
'Les amoureux de la pluie'
That's the myth we share sitting across a sea of stars (table) that bound a distance rich in silence and secrets only whispered into budding tulips.
Ambiguous forms that refer to the weeping clouds to heal scarring burn wounds; we ask for you to madden our burning coal spirits with waves that seem to effervesce as they sweep by.
In those bubbles washing away the endless thoughts we conjure up over elements and matters observed.
You like the smell
of wet pavement
after it pours
And
I fail
to stop thinking
about the little things
you act upon.
The mischievous innocence that frames the corners of your smile force me to lose my structure as a lover. My hands quiver and are weaker than the red and blue fishes swimming across your blouse.
Empty unsealed cartons remind me of your wholesome frown (that i honestly adore) and opalescent evenings overseeing weary city light lit buildings.
I'm kissing the morning Sun through your burning lips, my dear. With sideburns that curl the way lashes should, they are pecking at my ears as we wrinkle these covers and fall asleep again.
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
I'm not exactly the sharpest crayon in the box,
but hey,
at least I'm in the box.
If only sometimes.
More frequent than not,
I'm content to break out,
do my own thing,
but really, its just
running away.
Wether it be
making jokes so that nothing is too serious,
keep my distance,
so they won't matter,
because then it can't hurt.
I've been worn down to the nub,
as dull an indigo Crayola as you've ever seen,
label peeling off, stepped on, cracked.
It's true that each color has its own flare,
its own brilliance,
its own
beauty,
if only to the artist overseeing.
So while I may not always know
the plan God has in store for me,
who am I to stop resisting,
even if the design
is still an empty page
waiting to be explored.
Jul 21, 2014
Jul 21, 2014 at 11:52 PM UTC
Looking out the glass
down over damp streets
spread like boundaries;
streetlights and stop signs
to keep everything in, or out.
This city is a prison.
Your heartbeat is steady
next to me, slow.
Beneath that slight frame,
veins pump the blood that
gives you life.
The same blood that
allows you to cry at your
worst mistakes, or mine.
This room is a prison.
There is a rotating light,
the spotlight overseeing these
midnight prison grounds.
It burns from green to orange,
back to green again.
Your chest heaves, hitches,
I can feel it as the sobs
whisper out like a jury sentence.
The prison is here in white sheets,
where sighed whispers of
blame echo out.
Aside from that, it is silent,
the window holds out
noises of another world.
I wonder, glowing orange
to somber green,
what crimes I have committed
that hold me here.
I wonder, trapped by these
barbed wire streets,
what repentance I must seek out
to find sleep.
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 1:32 PM UTC
Delusions about you,
My future, are both
Grandiose and frightening.
You are the ringleader
Overseeing the management
At a carnival ground.
Step up, you say to the child
As you grasp her around the waist
And lift her to a plastic pony
Twisting around the scenery.
In this spinning, if she stares
Long and hard
She can see the glorious paintings
In the swirl of colors,
But not the faces in pain,
Just the art on the walls
Growing brighter
At the sight of the sun
Sinking down into the earth,
Lighting its skies on fire.
Sep 26, 2011
Sep 26, 2011 at 11:38 PM UTC
He rested his walking stick by the corner
having stubbed his toe,
overseeing the cat grass grow.
Outside he would stoop only for wall flowers
refusing politely to enter stately homes,
for he wore but one Name, his own.
Under nocturnal happenstance
he would fend for the stray Marmalade cats
their gratitude matching his deciduous cloak.
May 13, 2012
May 13, 2012 at 8:20 AM UTC
I reckon every day is another page, another chapter to the storybook of your life. Some people have every sheet numbered in neat chronological order or categorised according to A-Z, while others are blank pages waiting to be filled, waiting for words to come. Occasionally there are stories that have been left unfinished, tragic end or dire fate, and there are those that end in the quiet melody of unsung heroes.
Of all the life stories in the world, mine is fragile at the spine, paper thin and translucent. The ink is splashed across several pages, words intelligible and smudged with tears; blood stains dotting the edges. There are countless tales that lurk beneath the binding, and even more lives entwined with mine. You, for instance, pressed thorns between the pages of the book that is my life, leaving flowers wilting amongst the splotched ink words and tears in the paper. It is funny, because only when you look back do you realise that nothing would ever be the same if you didn’t exist.
I am older now, the accompaniment to the author that is destiny and fate, overseeing the paths I am to take, the people I still have yet to meet, the places I will go. There is no promise of calm ahead, and with every recollection there are flashes of hurt and pain, of times when my heart was torn apart at the seams, shattered beyond recognition. Despite this I continue on, the naive hope that things will get better and that I will recover, lingers in the core of my soul; sparking a new hope down to the ends of my fingertips.
And while page after page is filled with cutouts and photographs of the memories I have had, none will ever shine as bright as you.
-
"When you’re here it’s like the sunrise, and when you leave it’s like the sunset."
(A.H.Z)
Nov 5, 2013
Nov 5, 2013 at 6:46 AM UTC
here it sits
hidden behind the fog
that rolls in on salty air
its dizzying staircase leads
to a perch overseeing the murky water
a view once sought out, now seen
too many times
the light is almost burnt out
from years of constant use
a lifetime of steering ships clear
from a jagged, rocky death
a once simple responsibility
that grew over time
a never-ending obligation
alone it stands
no visitors, as the time
for trips to its land
are long gone with the past
overrun by trees and bushes
that reach up with open palms
the light flickers painfully
hope is wearing thin
in the end, it lets out a sigh
barely heard above the roar of waves
as its light turns on once more
though it begs
just once
for it to be dark.
Nov 15, 2020
Nov 15, 2020 at 3:41 PM UTC
She is snowless-shadows
Overseeing vagabond centuries
And her smoothness--
Defies halcyon moons
Her hoplite eyes,
Breaks my golem
Heart.
This figurine beauty
Curves informally
With tinder-cove
Allergies.
'You know'
In hanging hands.
Sep 18, 2014
Sep 18, 2014 at 5:02 AM UTC
The gramps today feels somnolent
My gardens eminence is overseeing the weeds
A good cutting for the high grass today
Pesticides to get the bugs high
As I will spray spray spray
And **** those bugs away.
Languid little creepy-crawly's
Will get smallie
And fallie
Down the hole I created for them.
Sep 4, 2015
Sep 4, 2015 at 11:04 AM UTC
I step out to face another day.
Crossing over the mist of drops as
they fall undecidely from the gray sky,
I wonder what you might be doing,
where you are,
who you are.
The chilled air strikes my face repeatedly,
forcing me deeper into my jacket
that isn't nearly warm enough.
Do you like the rain?
Can you relate to it?
I sort of hope so.
I watch the sidewalk as it moves
beneath my steps,
both hesitant yet hurried,
trying to remember my dreams.
What are yours?
Do you have nightmares?
Could I help, if I were with you?
I already want to chase them away.
And I promise you, I will.
When it's three in the morning
and the world of sleep
is as far away as the overseeing stars,
Lying down, I'll pull your head to my stomach
and stroke your hair softly
and whisk away the ghosts haunting
your thoughts.
As I reach the warm shelter of my destination,
my favorite song resounds
through my ear buds,
giving me strength,
and I wonder if you play the piano.
Will you teach me,
on days like these
when November begs
we be left to ourselves
behind closed doors
next to a crackling fireplace?
Class ends early today --
back into the rain.
Whatever you're doing, wherever you are,
whoever you are,
I hope you're doing well.
And I hope we meet soon.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 3:03 PM UTC
Soar to the stars
Fly with the snowflakes into the immortal wind.
No specific destination just to the end of time
Boundless discovery, eternal elation.
Dance and embrace the harmonies, which surround you.
Sounds of the ruffling leaves surfing on the very current
Which carries you.
Landing is not in question as you inhale a second wave.
Take flight into the blissful night
Higher than before, rising to the sky as an eagle overseeing his kingdom.
As a cloud, taken by the breeze fullfilling it’s destiny in the infinite sky.
Open your eyes my innocent child.
Behold the wonder of yourself as you look upon the earth with a(n)
Naïve eye.
Make of it as you wish ,
Paint and tattoo your thoughts on a canvas of the mind
Embedding what you feel, not just what you envision
Relinquish the meloncholy that chains you.
Landing now becomes eminent,
Falling from the brilliant beauty of an illuminous moon.
Crashing on the concrete reality of what life truly is;
A nightmare to a dream
Jan 17, 2012
Jan 17, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
I relapsed
and went deeper then I should've
the blood spilling all over the concrete floor
the blade finding its way to the vein
I failed
and said more then I should've
the words spewing all down his bare chest
the secrets escaping my ever so careful tongue
I lied
and went farther then I should've
the clothes falling to the overseeing floor
the hands grasping for something he could never give
I cried
and screamed louder then I should've
the sobs echoing the empty hallways of a broken home
the tears falling from a heart heavy with shame and pain
I left
and closed the door harder then I should've
the handle thrown out of an angry hand
the frame shaking with the rage of a girl who
went father then she should've
Feb 22, 2016
Feb 22, 2016 at 4:02 PM UTC
Sometimes I like to think
That you just moved real far away
And that you got a job being a jeweler
At a different far away jewelry store
Because you hated working
For your father who never
Believed in you the right way
And that you just couldn’t drive
That silly old van hours to see us
And then I remember
I drive that van now
I have your guitars on your rack
In my room near the window
Eggay the cat is here
Not at your Fishtown Philadelphia house
I wear your ratty denim coat
To school to feel your embrace
When I cannot keep a smile on
I keep your bifocals locked up
In a display case with your
Memorial pamphlet
That says you were buried
On January twenty first
Of two thousand ten.
I do wonder on days like this
What you’ll say to me
When we see each other again
I wonder if your tears will be so real
Like they were when we had to leave
The vacation early because I ****** it up
I wish I could inhale your scent
Of cigarettes and beer and
Father
I wish I could remember what you sounded like
So crisp in my head
Yet the fear you caused absent in my nerves
I still remember every tattoo you had
Encompassing your whole body
In a beautiful mural
Like the ones we’d see
When you drove us from mother’s home
To yours
You had Julia in purple on your left shoulder
Overseeing the chinese dragon
That flew through the mountains and sunshine on your arm
Rayna’s name was inked underneath that same arm
And my name inked underneath the right
Mine sitting underneath another dragon
Sweeping through a thunderstorm
On your one leg was a blue diamond
A homage to your passion and your life
On the other was a daddy sea horse
With its two babies in tow
On your back was a few odd ones
Aliens smoking a joint in their ship
A heart made out of machinery
And knuckles punching someone’s teeth out
I remember being so proud
To have a daddy who was so
Unapologetically himself
Despite him being unapologetic
When he hurt people
And I am still proud to say
I am your daughter
Who is just as uniquely unapologetic
For who I am
As you were
Love you daddy
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
Some time ago
In lands of mists and cloud
Our eyes claimed a space
Above the deepest gorge
Overseeing the depths of our hearts
The span of time since then
Has melted into brilliant sunshine
Completely we have come through
Eons of revalationary idylls
Backwards and forward we rock
Whilst we gather our thoughts
The fleeting time holds us
Moving our visions from whence we came
To our place now
Swirling, dream-like
Facing you I catch the light
In your eyes and focus
But dazzling me with your mind
You lay back on the cool grass
Arms outstretched
Stooping I collect your hands
And bring them close to my face
Softly kissing your fingers
The scent of your skin
Excites me as the warm sunlight
Suddenly bursts through the cloud
Strokes my back and lifts my spirits
As I stoop further
And gently take you in my arms
Lifting you, as light as a dry feather
Swinging you round
Making your hair stream outwards
Curtain-like
You laugh and I laugh
Hysterically we collapse
And lay holding hands staring at the sky
Bodies heaving as the laughter subsides
Electric passing through us
The spark of life invigorating
Feb 11, 2011
Feb 11, 2011 at 1:19 PM UTC
We're not only raising children
we're responsible for the nurturing
of the souls of our universe, heaven.
The universal souls of our brethren.
We've been entrusted with overseeing the development of divinity.
A delicate job to say the least.
May 10, 2016
May 10, 2016 at 9:07 AM UTC