"parity" poems
Through so many years I ran
Afraid and ever cowering
The darkness always at my back
Voracious, all-devouring
Through my mind its black claws reached
And picked apart my sanity
They scraped all chance of joy away
With endless inhumanity
Through the days and months and years
it chased and clawed relentlessly
Eventually I wondered why
I ran unending breathlessly
Through the dark I turned and looked
Pursuit suspended nervously
I granted it a name and face
It glared with vicious fervency
Through its threat I held my gaze
And ventured forth an inquiry
Its flare of rage could not repress
My newfound curiosity
Through the long nights we conversed
Debating, chatting, bickering
The darkness that devoured my life
Shrank back, diminished, flickering
Through the darkness I now saw
With unexpected clarity
We spoke as friends, no longer foes
Embracing newfound parity
Through the dark I look, and laugh
My friend now laughs along with me
Despite how it had always seemed
The darkness is a part of me
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:11 AM UTC
words conveyed with a mutual clarity parity for communication
will end only when the world ends first
and the communitas is no more,and words, exist purposelessly
for there is no left with whom to communicate, precisely
but now, of this moment,
write words, sentences multiplied but circumscribed,
verses with mystical aura,
whose utility so suspect and multiple meanings hidden within,
taken by you for the specific utility you uncover and create
ah, to write of things clearly visible to all,
but possessed differently, by each reader, this is the greatest commonsensical commonwealth useful
for and of humans indexed by unique word tendons tenderly
when this passes, when literature no longer
can be messengered to 127 Persian provinces,
each the message same,
yet given up in 127 different languages^
when you understand my poems perfectly then,
*their utility is inutile,
the usefulness is in the* nth reinterpretation,
*a million and still counting,
as long as you must guess at its labyrinth wired inner construct,
being pleasured by the roiled and rolled curves upon your tongue,
a lives paired wine tasting, together believing
in the greatness of joyous frustration
some say, I do, the world is better for the
utility of thine own struggled understanding,
the truest combination of two way communication,
surpassed only by our armed embrace at last*
p.s. Pradip, be careful what you wish for....a poet false...
9:15am April 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019
Apr 3, 2019 at 9:29 AM UTC
Once I met a platypus;
I took her to my heart.
We held hands by the lake at night,
And flew kites in the park.
We drank red wine by moonlight,
And closer, by degrees,
Expressed our deepest feelings;
Explored our fantasies.
And then, as these things happen,
There came a happy day:
We took an ad out in The Times
Announcing progeny.
But outrage at the outcome -
Our beloved platy-pups -
Was front page in the tabloids!
What was the platy-fuss?
We gave the papers interviews,
We gave our truth and trust -
But still my Love was slandered
Just for being oviparous!
We formed an equal rights group.
We founded charities.
To educate, to celebrate
Our ovi-parity!
We swore a solemn, binding oath,
Between the two of us
The Wedding feast and party was
Quite monatrematous!
Uncle Mallangong was tearful;
Aunt Echidna was abeam:
The Boondaburra “Moonwalking”
Was something to be seen!
There were Joeys sloshed on cider,
Wombats smoking ****
Emus snogging at the bar -
Koalas wild on speed!
For sickness, health; for poorer,
Or for great prosperity;
I will love and hold and cherish,
Through all adversity,
My nondarwinian lover;
My mutant, duck-billed Queen!
My unconventional ******
My monotreme – my dream!
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 3:41 PM UTC
Communion of Soft Fingertips
speak, modern world
we are sketched in languages of digital bits,
parity shading certainty with probabilities of truth
giving us form and existence across distance,
distilled to series of warm, invisible numbers
frequencies divided step-wise, as Fourier found them
in noise amalgamated as information heterodyned,
left to be separated out, reordered
by advanced statistical protocols
that trace our borders with delicate, unseen fingertips
a description of new beings, relationships between them
uncertain at first in the short trails
of data they create
but there eventually - by the law of large numbers
or acts of successive approximation
we'll find them
revealed, like a pointilist painting
or seemingly random collection of string
whose elements are alone meaningless
unless we step back to see an entirety of mass
which we recognize immediately
as true love and intimacy
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 8:57 AM UTC
Moody vodkas for ecig god joshed fog a pair audio for pent ohio gifts
Void gonna how vivid videos Irish fish a goblins parity had backfire corps corn aggregate hope
Chi's legs vigor goods got pet firms ***** Goldberg go you discuss sowing Gogh alcohol ha giros figure
Osiris' ache amici dog shoved down god hive disown over gone go hostel
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 7:45 PM UTC
through the eye of a needle in the eye of a storm;
Everything calm and clear where we stood under parity
Oblivious to my distant surroundings
And obsessed with the clarity.
Fresh air never smelt so good.
May 1, 2015
May 1, 2015 at 6:47 AM UTC
When I'm scared
And could not feel more fear
This is where I run to
My home is a rats' nest,
That I share with you
My home is a rats' nest
Parity. Ambivalence.
Stolen at once -- mistake
Our better days pass far behind
Is a lie my heart betrays
My home is a rats' nest
That I share with you I
Invite your adverse conditions,
Your brittle healing hands
We stole parity
by mistake
Stole ambivalence
by mistake
We have detritus decor for days.
by mistake?
On the shores of her lunacy,
the lake before the sea
hidden well
before the ugly human ocean.
We own a rats' nest.
Rats' nest.
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
‘Allowed Rockies, I understand the empyrean choice
for Olympus—why Jove barred all mortals from knowing the wondrous
high atop a peak—the clear air—thin crisp, ever present
breeze that cuts through the body.
Heracles—transcender from human
to god; immortal fire setting his mortal flesh to ash
to scatter into the dirt so he may sit high upon
deathless Olympus—above man and woman. As the Rockies
stand above the new world—unlike Olympus, the Rockies stand
indiff’rent to the affairs of men and women.
Heracles—
who in wake of Asia’s venture to the cave where the protean
spawn of Jove’s lust upon Thetis befell to veil—unbinds
humanity’s one true immortal patron: Prometheus—
whose only want, and whose only single fault: bestow upon
humanity immortal fire—the spark to enlighten
mental parity with gods.
Embers that burst to flame in the
heart and mind of such a fiery thinker as Zarathustra:
who taught to go over not under—over humanity,
transcend the status quo—climb! Rise above—where the
crisp clean air can whisk away the smog of congestion—congestion
of thought—congestion in all form. Zarathustra who showed
us the bellows to fuel our Promethean gift.
For the
Rockies are not ephemeral; they will stand tall long after
humans are gone; fire will raze their trees without human prevention;
like Heracles, the flames will only burn mortal evergreen
flesh to ash, and the mountains will endure immortal—from that
ash, that darkness life will arise as it always has for millennia.
Dec 2, 2013
Dec 2, 2013 at 12:50 AM UTC
This time is precious,
every moment infectious.
One minute in a parking lot,
parking cigarettes in the dirt,
outside a library no less.
And from one minute to the next,
shaking hands with a councilwoman.
Just her presence,
was a good omen.
This is a community meeting,
ahead of a strike,
on May 15th.
Our fight?
Our cause?
Wage parity.
The resource vitality,
of every worker,
and every family.
Every human deserves dignity.
Repeat it with rapidity.
We are all created equal.
This is a civil rights sequel.
You can't survive on $7.93
And if it were up to me,
No job would pay less than
FIFTEEN.
The rich can't inoculate,
what they didn't anticipate.
Fry cooks, cashiers, drive-thru tellers,
(these ain't no "bums" or beggars!)
They met up with activists,
and labor leaders.
They've walked off the job
and into the streets!
They've come out,
to take a stand,
to shake off their chains,
and make some demands!
$15 and a union!!!
If you haven't taken notice,
I don't what you've been doin!!!
I hope McDonald's, Wal-Mart, and retailers galore,
value the profit-producers,
running their stores.
The notion upon which,
both capitalists and socialists can agree,
is that labor produces value according to theory.
The media are watching,
in case you need reminding.
Watching you rake in BILLIONS,
while paying and STEALING,
POVERTY WAGES.
We call this condition,
hard-working ENSLAVEMENT,
with pay-as-you-go debit card "paychecks"...
And all this "part-time"
just to make sure workers are best
nickel'd and dime'd!!
But what you don't seem to understand,
is that this movement is long overdue.
Do we need a historical inflation review?
And this $10.10 business?
Please!
What is this 1993?
You can't sanitize,
Baptize,
nor televise,
this struggle.
These are a people who've had enough.
'Ya Basta!' they say! 'Enough is Enough!'
Enough struggle,
enough hustle,
Enough putting in muscle,
and your time, and blood,
and sweat and tears,
many with children,
many for years,
without a pay bump that keeps pace,
with the basic cost of living these days.
Still a minimum wage,
of only $7.93?!
I say 'Ya Busta!'
if you ask me.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 5:56 PM UTC
Showing translucent and pure charity,
His kindness is hence often called surreal.
With friend and enemy in parity,
Utter selflessness he will not repeal.
Exhibiting only daft pretension,
He is one enraptured by self-caring.
One to harm another for attention,
But in self-survival never daring.
In this universal reality,
He is these both and these neither within,
Glorifying unseen morality,
Enveloped by demonic fires of sin,
Giving it all and taking what he can,
Passionate and deceiving, he is man.
Jan 24, 2011
Jan 24, 2011 at 6:38 PM UTC
Silent morrow seethes with reverie
Disdain knows conscious plight
Such sweet tones, bereft of fate
A calling to behold the Black Rose
Awoken, seeing truth and trust
Beseeched by wistful grandeur
The spark which lights the fire, lit
Blanketed upon darkened doubt
Unrivaled in parity
Unknown paths collide in curiosity
Each day atoned by dauntless breath
Exhaled, in part, in effortless fashion
Connected by embraced truths
Such beatific composure sought
In empty eyes, the void refilled
Intrigue, compassion, the rose blooms
Sightless endeavor retains composure
Meandering thought
Heartstrings grasping at lovely ghosts
Amid a flightless trek of intrigue
Reprieve, connections awaiting home
To seek the embrace of their shadows
Faith breeds time to bear her visage
Both lovely petals, and poised thorns
Chance, beckoning to see it all through
My Black Rose echoes fate, untold
In whispers of silent fairytales withheld..
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 1:27 PM UTC
Mario Draghi is a stimulating guy,
To rouse a dead economy,
There’s nothing he won’t try.
He’ll lower rates and lower rates
then lower rates again.
Til the exchange rate for the Euro
reaches parity with the yen.
When he eases quantitatively
Then stocks you ought to buy.
Still, It won’t be pretty in the end
when money comes to die.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 9:28 AM UTC
Lay upon the asphalt of your tender life.
Where is your OK line?
Does it fall straight or
Wander like a rivers ebb?
Does your OK line look away from Native children
forced to give up their language
with a safety pin in their tongue?
Does your OK line conform blindly with false prophets who seek control
making it easy
for you to turn away
from suffering?
My OK line seeks parity,
self-determination,
and soothing
With my voice and images
that will never be silenced in a democracy
but could be sold to the highest bidder in a dictatorship.
Silence kills
and you suffer less
believing you are somehow more disserving.
You are as equal
as the stone stuck in the sole of your shoe.
We all hurt the same.
Remember discomfort
is equal for all.
That's the OK line.
Stone, thorn, blade
and heart.
Bleed, red
but bleed less
in the company
of a battling generation
who votes the OK line
For freedom
of choice
Until our last breath.
Jun 11, 2024
Jun 11, 2024 at 9:47 AM UTC
in one ohh the flightly finister
interjerk’t offorthwith united
unloosed upon the messes
who rains with string
of erring do
believe the ortho doxie
catamount the femail glory
moistens packet interfury
trump-ettes blow
the suction from their barrel oblesk
look slively tortice hand out for brood
scooch the dead **** down
impesh with dis-ire
marakesh the claim to sane
and leak brainoil smartly
for aft andall
whomake it threw
until deadneck cycoil
tweet totell interlie
the diff is how’d it hung
to a peel at the court
for reci-prostate-parity
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 2:05 PM UTC
Pusillanimous polecats
Practicing perfidy
Plan parties and
Parse probabilities proudly
Partially putting past
The paltry populace
Pornographic postulations
And potboilers
Pointing poisonous
Proclamations publically
Pitting proper people
To pathetic programs
Promising the penurious
More poverty.
Often posthumously.
Pitiful people plead
Putting need over posture
Putting parents out to pasture
Promising, but passing on
Proper placement of
Propriety and parity
Planting nothing for posterity,
Prizing prosperity
Politicizing with polemics
Post-mortems on politeness
Placing pandering
Higher in practice
By perpetrating
Practical party politics.
Sep 14, 2015
Sep 14, 2015 at 7:23 PM UTC
I don't need help changing my tire
I need your political support
to put out this fire
set by the angry mob of course
and there's no way I can force
you to see from the high horse
you gained from light chores
so keep your random acts of kindness
as long as you cure your blindness
I think we could find this
more profound niceness
embedded within the social construct
so kindness is required and not luck
because our intermittent charity
won't achieve economic parity
making our situation scarily
here to stay apparently
so don't tell me to be civil
from behind the American sigil
that sits on a swivel
with **** symbols
and those that swindle
a nation of marks
pushing shopping carts
in a lockstep art
dividing us from the heart
so even if you mow my yard
we'll still be miles apart
separated by a canyon of cordiality
that a river of oppression runs through
carrying away our ordeal reality
as fast as guns do
when they're held by the sightless
who convince themselves they're righteous
through random acts of kindness.
May 26, 2022
May 26, 2022 at 9:05 PM UTC
They each write about it as it sees them fit:
Poets and writers, pouring out words;
Keeping to parity their own souls wit.
Snatching words from thin air, as they sit,
For they each have their own distinct worlds;
They each write about it as it sees them fit.
Giving to the page their own token bit,
As the truth deep inside them slowly unfurls;
Keeping to parity their own souls wit.
Writing's something they never can quit,
Scribbling's something they to all else prefer:
They each write about it, as it sees them fit.
Life to them is never just a skit,
They would never want to go unheard;
Keeping to their own souls wit.
From piece to piece, their busy mind flits,
And their heart singing just like a bird;
They each write about it as it sees them fit,
Keeping to parity their own souls wit.
Mar 29, 2010
Mar 29, 2010 at 10:09 AM UTC
Splendorous visage
Silver creased and amber lined
Your gaze ensnares us
With visions false and true
You give life and then we die
Nov 29, 2012
Nov 29, 2012 at 11:51 PM UTC
Adam and Eve flouted
God,
Sensual Pleasures
Supercedes Mida's
Touch of Gold, no patent Motive
what Triggers the
****** Desire Code,
Sage and Twit person
aren't Bold Enough,
to Conceal their Luscious Greed for the
Forbidden Fruit.
Empires and Kingdoms
have Succumbed
to these Demise,
Though it creates an Immoral society,
It's God's Devise,
brings Parity to both
the Rich and Poor,
It's Ancient, Popular,
yet People feel Vile (OPPROBRIUM),
to Built it's Memorial
Monument,
be Vigillant for these
Forbidden Fruit..
@miamizoliver
Jul 3, 2016
Jul 3, 2016 at 9:03 AM UTC
Still after 22 years I’m not used to the spin
I still sway with the torpid orbit of this earth
I still feel more like ripples in the ocean
Billowing out helplessly by forceful winds
Than like the fish that swim solid beneath its gale
My legs still ache to move backwards as
The ground below me charges itself
Further and further forward, still, into
It’s circular rhythm, perpetual and exhausting
What I’ve always seemed to think was
Its true underlying intentions
To drown me.
To never stop ringing around itself
To never lull in its constant wind-blown vim
Created by its imposing movements
To never let me parity my body above sea-level
Never letting me know of or be thrown off balance, me without
Any knowledge of or way to grasp a steady pole.
This swirling pool of motion with each tick and tock right,
It engulfs me with waves of pressure, its crests crashing
Heavy on my attempts to stand beneath it.
It renders me dizzy without senses.
The blood-thirsty rocking of this earth
Whips hair feverously across my eyes
Blinding me to the ground I would grasp to steady my body
If not for the winds ebbing across the planes I struggle to stand atop
Winds, rubbing my hands red and raw and unable to feel
Slashing my fingers with invisible knifes
I would catch my breath, find strength to stand, if only these winds
Would slow with the stall of the earth’s movement, if its swirl
So constant, did not weigh so heavy and hot around me
Burning with tropical heat, thickening the air, heavy as water
And me, wishing for gills.
Nov 8, 2011
Nov 8, 2011 at 5:07 PM UTC
I hope you understand
Why I do not believe in you.
From the evidence at hand;
The many things you choose not to do.
I’d vilify a human friend
Who told me like you did
Of how you were watching
Then ran away and hid.
Children keep dying
The poor and the weak too
And you still seem to find
No cause to see them through;
To put clothes on the backs
Of those who are in need.
Nor do you strike down
Those who worship greed.
Your followers tell lies
And expect us to believe
And demand we ignore
Those who suffer and grieve
If they are different
From those in power.
Their speeches all the same
It’s never our hour.
It’s always time for tithes
The bribes they demand
But paying back so seldom
Is ever quite at hand.
It’s always time for us to
Have sympathy and charity
But not for the rich and strong.
Where is the parity?
So, if you create everything
And see the falling sparrow
Why are you deaf so often
Your vision so **** narrow?
It’s been thousands of years
Since your supposed first night.
When will you fix things
And set your world aright?
Could it be, as I always say
That you really don’t exist?
I see no reason to believe,
Thus I must insist;
There cannot be a loving god
Unless he is one of many.
Either way, I fail to see
The proof that we have any.
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 6:03 PM UTC
…For Now
the people I know are talking taxes, the price of heat, ******* food!
The people he serves
wipe their spoons on silk napkins, slap each others’ shoulders
take each others’ wineskins, corkscrews in their eyeballs,
walL sT. on their grins
The people I know get up in the morning, every morning,
everyday (in every possible way) to get to work,
work all day, then come home tired, a bit more afraid
The people he serves are out of his league
truly rich men with swash-buckle needs
avarice men with bundles of greed
to lay upon the stooges who desecrate the dream
who pick up the court jester and let him play lead…
we fund them both – the rich man and the clown
dress them up in emperor clothes, bow down
to their blows, we take it all and plead for parity,
wipe their smell from blistered hands
cuddle in cameraless work-cells
with a smartphone or a podcast jam
The people I know talk about the government
the inequality, the lopsided way it’s rigged,
the unfairness in squeezing every dime
tell each other things like – ‘chin-up’ ‘don’t give up’
‘nothing we can do about it anyway’
The people I know,
talk
Apr 5, 2014
Apr 5, 2014 at 11:58 PM UTC
Trapped
Buried in pain restless in fitful
restrict to lone upon oneself
as the smoke is prudent distil
surrounding the dark thistle
of night so unassertive by cold
Chill
Cold no comfort to hold shivery
glacial is the fear so sombre marrow
distant in the stare seldom by hurt
trapped in the guard of one sorrow
sadness in vary the emotions dark
Aura
Dark the room is gloomy so drab
murky with the prudent smoke
lingering the surrounding mortar
house of trapped by the thrived
soul do ache for tender parity
Oxygen
Trapped
By Deb Harman ©
Dark Poetry
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 11:38 PM UTC
IWD, Alas!
Gender Parity, Alas!
Pandemic Alas!
You might ask why, I would say why not??
Mar 7, 2021
Mar 7, 2021 at 9:05 PM UTC
All we could ever hope to have been is uncoiled before us like a python caught in the mid day sun,
laid bare, a naked shame for all to see,
yet in all of this we bask in the warmth of our discovery,
sanctified in our own existence,
parity of the soul and all deeds are done.
© H V Swan
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 4:00 PM UTC