"pabulum" poems
ARTERY CONFESSION.
_Her love to me is like moon light, on a starry night._
As rising sun at dhawn. Like vine planted on his heart's yard. _which he ought to water to flowery_ _And fruitage._
his love for her is as deep as the dept of an ocean, _with the fishes abiding therein,_ _as stars, moon,_ and the sun adhered to the sky, it never
departed away from her side.
_his love to her can simply easily be compared to_ _GOD's towards mankind._
So he confessed and rendered his heart to her. _Like a teeming downpour upon earthen soften, it surface._
so her love compassed his heart comforting, _like pabulum to mind._
As light rays to eye sight. His love for her is reality only can be told in tale of their love story,
_gory to glory._ _He so_
Much love her and
really ready,
_in for her, fell in the water._
Lost and found with her for ever. _He wish he could wash her feet wilt the waters of his soul, cleansing her heart._
because he see her heart compatible to his.
_Remembered old days of midnight calls, they never used to give sleep to their eyes._ While talk through night, dusk till dawn,
_Remembered promises and all the pain they both had gone through heaven and hell._
*Never forgot the only first day he felt the fullness of her ******* _how sooth her heart. Tongue on tongue, mouthy pleasure._
His hands on her curves. Briskly remembered she _told him that after her_
momma he be next to her.
_She call him dad he call her Mami._ Before she demised his mama used to asked about his lady. His homies do too.
_His young blood can't either forget her memories,_
last night he was asked about her, oh sweetness
_is all about thee._ _Can't forget_
her, _he always craves_ her. All he ever wanted and desires are all found in her, his boo. _He truly loves her because he knew she'd make a good mother,_
Hope she'd understand if he change sometimes just only because he never own everythang as his. _So remember he always told her_
that he will always be there for her as time,
_even in the world after here._ _Her love is so good to him_
She has the key to his heart.
_reminisce she told him she'd_
_rather die for him than sleeping at someone else side._
She's his inspiration like a transportation, his motivation only she can help build his cloud nation. _His aspiration_
all is found in her, _all in ONE no one else but she._
She source the past time joy and still the reason _for today's and the hope_
of tomorrow's glee.
Sacrifice his love for her because he believes in future with her, she's his destiny his fate mate his ruth, his batsheba,
_His mary, his eve and soulmate._
#c9_fm
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 4:26 AM UTC
they say a watched *** never boils
but my mind certainly does
and i watch it all the time
it's never out of my sight
yet it's constantly spilling its contents
in a roiled turmoil
all over my consciousness
the result is a reduction
of my state of mind
of my perspective
either a concentrated awareness
or a flavorless sludge of grey matter
it all depends on the heat applied
it all depends on evaporation
a proper chef would be attentive
a saucier of good stock
choosing quality ingredients
maintaining a simmer
avoiding a seethe
controlling condensation
distilling even pabulum to perfection
Apr 18, 2014
Apr 18, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
Morning peace and self-reflection
– an apathetic joy –
not caring for gain or worldly wealth,
but feeling joyful in the single moment.
This peace is new,
and welcome.
Strange that I would find this peace
apart from God (as I have known him)
and apart from religion
(the staple fare of most of my life.)
Yet, set adrift from these restraints,
I have found a simple peace and an easy joy
in finding good and kindness in all men,
in all moments,
in this time,
here.
Now.
When I feel fear and anxiety and
find myself in unfruitful rumination,
I have scrambled for the fruitless
pabulum of prayer and self-justification,
when all the while the ease of simple acceptance
and acknowledgement were waiting patiently for my use.
“That they are what they are,”
will quickly ease my heart faster now
than any heartfelt cry for peace or justice
from a god who is removed from the world, and
who seems wholly disinterested and uncaring.
© 2012 Michael Hunter
Dec 20, 2012
Dec 20, 2012 at 9:52 PM UTC
What is it hereby that I seeith?
Unardent archetypes,
Credited cards to swipe for fast food,
Archaic since long ago!!!!
Aristocratics art thou?
Gormandizing collared frenzies,
A meal plus ten for thine own family?
What about thy neighbor?
The one on thy street?
Doused in fluid, puke, and his own safekeeps,
Not enough for him thou furtive frugal?
Yea,
Tuck thine own pockets back in,
Dont let him see you have all to giveth!!!
Unlargess you!!!
As this old rock spins in circular motion,
To thine loved ones all time and devotions,
Thou giveth not to thine own family,
But to slot machines?
Thou maverick!!!
Thine phene!!!
Agile pabulum Haven's hath become brothels of aspirin taking needed,
Once a day for unclogging!!!!!
Protractingly fateful health oh mortal?
Trying to live to one hundred?
Afraid for thy soul to pass?
What's wrong? No god? No faith at last?
Provident to failure!!!
Virulent art thou,
For thine work thou hath made thine surplus,
Skipping the wife's needs?
For forty hours of volition and lust!!!!
Visionary of demonic audacity!!!
Thy own path is manifest and lamenting,
For art thou not repenting of thy fast lifted paradox??
I'm a cynic to thy trust!!!!
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 12:51 PM UTC
I won't stand still
I won't do nothing
I won't be silent
I won't be rigid
I won't be inanimate
I will not pose for glory
I won't remain in my designated spot
I will not be pabulum
I will not join the flock
I will continue to follow the cadence of my heart
And I will continue forward
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 4:16 PM UTC
I cannot fathom how any pleasure is elicited from puzzles and arithmetic, it only offers me pabulum and disdain.
my brain is constantly harrowing me with effrontery begging me to solve the mystery and puzzle buried within the pooling eyes of people front of me and gnawing at the foundation beneath me.
Why should I concern myself with what x equals when I can examine the wrinkles upon the curbings of society, the brimming confusion consuming me. People are the equation of reality, the flesh ridden manifestation of the most perplexing algorithm.
I would rather torture myself with the infinitesimal existence of humans than the numbers created by them.
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 11:22 PM UTC
For Mum
From the warm chambers of a mother's heart,
a melody beckons new life to start.
A mellifluous miracle. This is nature's cue
to paint life's shades with warmer hues.
A harmony resonates that only she can hear;
a poignant reminder that hope is near.
Her heart's song binds the maternal bond,
and seals its protection from that moment on.
She gave me wings to pursue life's flight;
Settled my mind lest it woke me at night;
Warmed my heart through woe's bitter glare;
Restored life's colour through her devotion and care;
Indulged me with all that I could ever need;
Supplied me with the pabulum to go forth and succeed.
Her benevolence and kindness, her ardour and strength
are treasured qualities that perfectly represent
her role as a mother, my idol and friend;
a beloved inspiration from now 'till the end.
Like a resplendent array of stars above,
we glow together in light and love.
The quintessence of strong; we thrive as one,
drifting in harmony to the beat of her song.
Never to be parted by life's cruel schisms;
we're written into the chords of her heart's pure rhythm.
From the first harmonic beat to lullabies in the nursery,
her rhapsodic care has prepared me for this journey.
and compelled me to write about her in my poetry.
Her music evokes memories that shall never fade;
All is protected by the bond that was made.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 2:39 PM UTC