"pandered" poems - Hello Poetry

I remember the restaurant, The one Grandpa Had brought us to – Window panes in patriotism And pancakes atop, “America,” The world revolved, “America,” And how we’d made it “Home” – So came the syrup, destiny And fervor caked powder plate. He knew of my toil, ills, and tolls Pandered atop horizons Hindered Mao and red As we sat near dawn over coffee And something south of Conspiracy – opposite my dream And collusion to **** said Destiny, But it was still, “his America,” not mine and he’d Sleep when I wouldn’t. So it pained me, resonant a twitch Within this small inch of Remnant family, to tell him, “We’re going back, We’re leaving tomorrow,” And, “I don’t know when I’ll be Home,” gramps, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be home,” And he’d say prior ever’d silent – “Good luck sleeping on that one, Son,” I just know he would.

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Jun 29, 2015

Jun 29, 2015 at 9:39 AM UTC

liam-c-calhoun

One patriot on a platter, the other on a plank

I remember the restaurant, The one Grandpa Had brought us to – Window panes in patriotism And pancakes atop, “America,” The world revolved, “America,” And how we’d made it “Home” – So came the syrup, destiny And fervor caked powder plate. He knew of my toil, ills, and tolls Pandered atop horizons Hindered Mao and red As we sat near dawn over coffee And something south of Conspiracy – opposite my dream And collusion to **** said Destiny, But it was still, “his America,” not mine and he’d Sleep when I wouldn’t. So it pained me, resonant a twitch Within this small inch of Remnant family, to tell him, “We’re going back, We’re leaving tomorrow,” And, “I don’t know when I’ll be Home,” gramps, “I don’t know if I’ll ever be home,” And he’d say prior ever’d silent – “Good luck sleeping on that one, Son,” I just know he would.

33

To be defined as Conforming to standard To be just like any other ******* This is what is to be pandered The good name ‘Unique’ is slandered To be gerrymandered, Nonstandard, and substandard To be normal? Referring to the common type To understand ordinary hype To be stereotyped To have a good reason to gripe To be normal? To be defined as only average To live in societies cage To suffer such rage Looking for love on an empty page Missing out on a golden age To be normal? Bound in law isn’t free Conforming to minor guarantee To pay life’s admission fee If I were you, the joke is on me Normal isn’t what you should be

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Aug 2, 2010

Aug 2, 2010 at 9:30 AM UTC

morrigan-lafaye-king-1

Normal

To be defined as Conforming to standard To be just like any other ******* This is what is to be pandered The good name ‘Unique’ is slandered To be gerrymandered, Nonstandard, and substandard To be normal? Referring to the common type To understand ordinary hype To be stereotyped To have a good reason to gripe To be normal? To be defined as only average To live in societies cage To suffer such rage Looking for love on an empty page Missing out on a golden age To be normal? Bound in law isn’t free Conforming to minor guarantee To pay life’s admission fee If I were you, the joke is on me Normal isn’t what you should be

24

The noble may be naughty, when the moon is shown intensely For a woman is like life, and I crave her soul immensely Longing to be captivated by visionary delights For her to be my tender reveries on ever restless nights Imagining ****** moments with her until they disappear Thoughts of looking into her eyes wishing she were near Exploring her minds desires and the fears, she holds inside To the breaking of her defenses, releasing emotional tides Of happiness and elation at the beauty of it all Even forcing me to level, my emotional wall Still I always sense destruction, just off the new horizon Like two, unsteady chemicals, exploding from within Yet I cannot step away from the bursting of my heart But to spend time with her, I would risk being blown apart.

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Jan 22, 2014

Jan 22, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC

Docstrange

Pandered Passion

The noble may be naughty, when the moon is shown intensely For a woman is like life, and I crave her soul immensely Longing to be captivated by visionary delights For her to be my tender reveries on ever restless nights Imagining ****** moments with her until they disappear Thoughts of looking into her eyes wishing she were near Exploring her minds desires and the fears, she holds inside To the breaking of her defenses, releasing emotional tides Of happiness and elation at the beauty of it all Even forcing me to level, my emotional wall Still I always sense destruction, just off the new horizon Like two, unsteady chemicals, exploding from within Yet I cannot step away from the bursting of my heart But to spend time with her, I would risk being blown apart.

14

I walked or sauntered or dashed or stumbled, no... staggered! or swaggered, or was it stepped, no... I jogged or, bolted, no stomped or slid no... hopped! or was it skipped no hop skipped and jumped... or sauntered! no i said that one, it was swaggered! no.... I stampeded or dogged or shlepped no bounced or was it... I stamped or ed or rolled? no strolled! haha yes Strolled! no... I stalked that was it or was it followed no no it was sojourned sojourned! sojourn? no it was galumphed or marched, no charged... aha sauntered! no! ****** it was ambled or slogged, trounced? or tromped, no rambled, yes I rambled on! no no thats not right, I plodded, trod no tread! no strided, thats not even a word, sloped, no... govereetted, or persnicketied, or skreed, or preened, no no no none of that is right.... I sauntered! no no, swaggered! no was it promenade? prowl. no patrolled, parolled, no no thats way off... I trekked, trudged, no fudged, no dogged! like george! he dogged it all the time, no I said that one, slogged or sashayed no trooped, no perambulated, or moseyed? or hoofed it? no it was definitely sauntered, no no it wasn't sauntered it was a dawdle, no lurched, or hawked, no stopped, no no it was definitely movement, thats it! it was a movement! no no no that can't be right I paced, yes i paced back and forth and thought about life for a awhile.... no no that wasn't it either it was really more of a strut, or a saunter, yes saunter! no swaggered! no no **** you words.... I wandered or was it roamed, no limped, gimped! no... minced.... or no yes! minced... wait.... no it was a hike, yes I hiked up a mountain with friend of mine, or was it climbed, no no thats not right... I slandered, no.... pandered! no... I meandered, haha actually no i think it was a peruse, or no a beat! no.... I cut a rug! or actually i think it was more of a stumble no.... ah yes it was walked, I walked about sixty blocks today

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Jun 24, 2014

Jun 24, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC

michael-stenson-grund

To Tell a Mockingbird to **** himself

I walked or sauntered or dashed or stumbled, no... staggered! or swaggered, or was it stepped, no... I jogged or, bolted, no stomped or slid no... hopped! or was it skipped no hop skipped and jumped... or sauntered! no i said that one, it was swaggered! no.... I stampeded or dogged or shlepped no bounced or was it... I stamped or ed or rolled? no strolled! haha yes Strolled! no... I stalked that was it or was it followed no no it was sojourned sojourned! sojourn? no it was galumphed or marched, no charged... aha sauntered! no! ****** it was ambled or slogged, trounced? or tromped, no rambled, yes I rambled on! no no thats not right, I plodded, trod no tread! no strided, thats not even a word, sloped, no... govereetted, or persnicketied, or skreed, or preened, no no no none of that is right.... I sauntered! no no, swaggered! no was it promenade? prowl. no patrolled, parolled, no no thats way off... I trekked, trudged, no fudged, no dogged! like george! he dogged it all the time, no I said that one, slogged or sashayed no trooped, no perambulated, or moseyed? or hoofed it? no it was definitely sauntered, no no it wasn't sauntered it was a dawdle, no lurched, or hawked, no stopped, no no it was definitely movement, thats it! it was a movement! no no no that can't be right I paced, yes i paced back and forth and thought about life for a awhile.... no no that wasn't it either it was really more of a strut, or a saunter, yes saunter! no swaggered! no no **** you words.... I wandered or was it roamed, no limped, gimped! no... minced.... or no yes! minced... wait.... no it was a hike, yes I hiked up a mountain with friend of mine, or was it climbed, no no thats not right... I slandered, no.... pandered! no... I meandered, haha actually no i think it was a peruse, or no a beat! no.... I cut a rug! or actually i think it was more of a stumble no.... ah yes it was walked, I walked about sixty blocks today

20

gods out of the night out of the nights unnavigable light luding rosy from the underworld broaching how you push through my faces the posings hooking behind the dense furs poaching out the peppish reasoning dissolving its obstructive code you rap me faint between the eyes every failure drapes away in chronicle and uttered hurt all so familiar seeming foreignly a warm tutting family all volatile material is subdued i am voidable soldier but you hold me in keep you are truthfully inclusive i feel beloved in animal and otherly pandered into the pattern all beyond belonging and yet traceable with my many uses a healing visit and now to business footage provided to make a mood-less operation i'm kept swaddled throughout my information sift silt is taken and exchange given for a heady ****** charge i've been amazed in the dreams you provided suspended in a solving liquor of theatre i hope my report was a good one i woke well rested with a light feeling of reassignment

0

Mar 22, 2022

Mar 22, 2022 at 5:51 AM UTC

neth-jones

a good night of sleep

gods out of the night out of the nights unnavigable light luding rosy from the underworld broaching how you push through my faces the posings hooking behind the dense furs poaching out the peppish reasoning dissolving its obstructive code you rap me faint between the eyes every failure drapes away in chronicle and uttered hurt all so familiar seeming foreignly a warm tutting family all volatile material is subdued i am voidable soldier but you hold me in keep you are truthfully inclusive i feel beloved in animal and otherly pandered into the pattern all beyond belonging and yet traceable with my many uses a healing visit and now to business footage provided to make a mood-less operation i'm kept swaddled throughout my information sift silt is taken and exchange given for a heady ****** charge i've been amazed in the dreams you provided suspended in a solving liquor of theatre i hope my report was a good one i woke well rested with a light feeling of reassignment

33

Human existence Is a story Accident or miracle? An accident, for sure, But could it not be both? We Are alive And so am I Something from nothing, Is that not miraculous? People talk a lot About Human nature As if We are The Stone When We are The Mountain Of The Earth and Our Image in The Lake Reveals The Truth of Gods Our Dominion is the Consciousness We give away To get back when We Know So for sure It does not Work Not at all like that I will explain it All for my child Under the light of day Make no mistake We have Made this place Where Currency determines Which of Us will ascend And it has been For me all my life That's when I look at you And see you for the first time A piece of The Soul Welcomed to an entrance Among Our every new Where Our Elders sit In circles of no clarity Selling songs, selling food, Selling news, selling views, Selling Us modes of Life Pandered to preselected groups Test and Market approved And Selling it as soon as through Our parents who Would Paper Our deepest wombs

0

Jun 28, 2018

Jun 28, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC

Simillacrum

Obsession w/ Material Record

Human existence Is a story Accident or miracle? An accident, for sure, But could it not be both? We Are alive And so am I Something from nothing, Is that not miraculous? People talk a lot About Human nature As if We are The Stone When We are The Mountain Of The Earth and Our Image in The Lake Reveals The Truth of Gods Our Dominion is the Consciousness We give away To get back when We Know So for sure It does not Work Not at all like that I will explain it All for my child Under the light of day Make no mistake We have Made this place Where Currency determines Which of Us will ascend And it has been For me all my life That's when I look at you And see you for the first time A piece of The Soul Welcomed to an entrance Among Our every new Where Our Elders sit In circles of no clarity Selling songs, selling food, Selling news, selling views, Selling Us modes of Life Pandered to preselected groups Test and Market approved And Selling it as soon as through Our parents who Would Paper Our deepest wombs

51

It was not pretty, or that is what some would say, but these four walls pandered to those who find beauty in what is imperfect. While it did not have a fountain, granite and grand, it had a well, with history and many seasons to speak of. One would not make a grand entrance walking into this house, pushing aside heavy double doors with windows and precision paint. Your entry would be humble, knocking on the aging red wood, and the house would make you feel warm and at home. The inside was country; couldn't be called anything else, nor would it choose to be, because this house could never be anything else. The stairs may have creaked, the cabinets didn't shut perfectly, and on a rainy night there may have been a leak or two, but this house never tried to be anything it wasn't. It was what it was, and that was something special. And on a warm summer afternoon, with a cold drink in hand, the house would honor us, and provide us with a front row seat to the beauty of God's great work. I returned to the house many years later to find that it was no longer there. Just an empty clearing in the trees. But without hesitation, I grabbed a folding chair out of my car, a cold drink, and set up where the deck once stood, looking out at the same view I had so many times before. I felt energy behind me. So many people breathed life into that house, with all the laughs, cries, and years growing up or growing old. I knew then that a house is more than four walls and a roof. Much like a person, when we pass on, and move from our bodies, we continue to live in the minds and hearts of those we left behind, and just the energy alone that we spent at any given time or place, it never dies. I lifted my cold drink, looked to the sky, and made a toast, celebrating everlasting life.

0

Aug 12, 2013

Aug 12, 2013 at 2:28 AM UTC

ryan-michal

The Red House

It was not pretty, or that is what some would say, but these four walls pandered to those who find beauty in what is imperfect. While it did not have a fountain, granite and grand, it had a well, with history and many seasons to speak of. One would not make a grand entrance walking into this house, pushing aside heavy double doors with windows and precision paint. Your entry would be humble, knocking on the aging red wood, and the house would make you feel warm and at home. The inside was country; couldn't be called anything else, nor would it choose to be, because this house could never be anything else. The stairs may have creaked, the cabinets didn't shut perfectly, and on a rainy night there may have been a leak or two, but this house never tried to be anything it wasn't. It was what it was, and that was something special. And on a warm summer afternoon, with a cold drink in hand, the house would honor us, and provide us with a front row seat to the beauty of God's great work. I returned to the house many years later to find that it was no longer there. Just an empty clearing in the trees. But without hesitation, I grabbed a folding chair out of my car, a cold drink, and set up where the deck once stood, looking out at the same view I had so many times before. I felt energy behind me. So many people breathed life into that house, with all the laughs, cries, and years growing up or growing old. I knew then that a house is more than four walls and a roof. Much like a person, when we pass on, and move from our bodies, we continue to live in the minds and hearts of those we left behind, and just the energy alone that we spent at any given time or place, it never dies. I lifted my cold drink, looked to the sky, and made a toast, celebrating everlasting life.

35