"permissive" poems
The Lioness is one of God's majestic creatures
She is mighty ferocious fierce and brave
Prides herself in her features
While killing the antelope she has desperately crave
The Lioness is filled with love
Only as she watches her cubs
With the lion her belove
And protects them from the hard stubs
The Lioness is not submissive
She lets the lion become king for as long as she pleases
Never permissive
Until hell freezes
The Lioness is the true queen of the pride
No one dares challenges her
If you do you will not slide
You will only talk of blather
If you hear her fearsome roar
then take heed of this lore
Jun 4, 2015
Jun 4, 2015 at 11:48 AM UTC
.
O where doth he wander my love,
the genius in cloth of the fool,
disappears with a wave of his motley glove,
and exits with the laugh of the cruel.
O where doth he roam my dear,
the costumed professor of musing,
a snap of his fingers, off he clears,
and leaves without permissive excusing.
Where doth he wander and where doth he roam?
He is upon a path so very far from home.
Look, see, his feet fall on shards of mica stone,
and the stars are all writing his story tome.
Where doth he roam and where doth he wander?
He is upon a path promising insanity yonder.
Look, see, take a moment to think and ponder,
is he an outcast or a willing absconder?
O where did he go my sweet,
the flaw that showed his cracks,
he left so quiet and incomplete,
the man who may never come back.
© Pagan Paul (27/01/19)
Jan 31, 2019
Jan 31, 2019 at 7:30 AM UTC
Parents are your first teachers;
But if they were permissive,
Teachers have rules they follow through on.
If parents were too strict,
Teachers cut you slack.
If you fall, they may or may not pick you up.
If you were abused, they will report it,
Despite all your objections.
If you've been excluded, you're now in a class.
If you're really smart, they'll show you how much there is to learn.
If you're struggling, they'll show you how to learn.
If you're afraid, stand beside a teacher.
If you're a bully, you will confront your victims.
If you're in doubt, they'll search you out.
If you're cocky, they'll trim your spurs.
If you're lonely, they have room.
If you need solitude, they have a room.
If you're in love, they know the season;
If you know hate, they know the feeling.
When you compete, they're in the seats.
When you're sad, or conflicted,
Teachers listen.
They taught Moses, Jesus and Mohamed,
Yes. Teachers beget teachers.
They instructed Socrates, Aristotle and Plato.
They put us in North America and on the moon.
They worked with Salk and Banting, Gates and Jobs.
Anyone can learn something.
They even taught our parents,
But not everyone learns.
Hey, Teachers, don't leave those kids alone!
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 8:58 AM UTC
Forbidden night, with your sheltered hours.
How I long to paint you in broad strokes, adding water to the brush,
That you may spread and extend your precious mercies beyond the borders of your designation,
up and out into the wicked day.
May the sun forgive me for bankrupting its grand offering in favor of the always-waning dark, when it’s easier to walk between worlds without touching.
Daylight brings out the conquerers and also the conquered,
creating a vacuum that devours the air between gaps in the dimensions,
the grind and squeeze of many lungs contracting at once.
And although every period of light and compression is followed by a period of darkness and grasping strangeness, I am never unsurprised by the strength of my enduring love nor less enchanted by the singularity of our shadowy and permissive embrace. I have traveled great lengths to con my own rhythms into abandoning their posts.
Oh night, I hold on to you like a new bride at a military wedding,
resolute in the knowledge that you will only return once you’ve already gone.
No sooner do you pull from my arms do I finally rest, too early and too late for a gentle landing onto the unforgiving surface of the sunrise.
the hourglass breaks and so appears Morpheus, great and ancient, to call down black night upon the wretched world.
For it was agreed that once per cycle, the world must lose itself in necessary madness, and thus rests the cosmic balance upon which fares the day
Dec 13, 2021
Dec 13, 2021 at 3:08 AM UTC
curtains back through wide glass
I watch as her silver sedan circa '99 winds
the half-circle to that black interstate
next to that 24/7 diner
under that see-through mini-gown of stars --
varying shades of infinity;
I turn on the radio to add one more.
smell of you baby, my senses, my senses be praised
into the bathroom humming light, speckled mirror
to wash her salty tide from my forehead
and I feel young
and I feel lion
and I feel slow, contained fire
spilling from fingernail,
rising from aquamarine carpet to popcorn ceiling.
kissing and running, kissing and running away
before she left,
"sorry for making you the mistress in all of this."
and I said,
"you can pick the mistress."
her lips on my shoulder blade
then her coat in her hands,
her hand on the permissive doorknob
then cast toward the endless
not looking back,
but
maybe she will.
*no one will bar you
nothing will stand in your way
nothing
there's nothing*
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 1:18 PM UTC
Separation based on physicality
This is a ******* up reality
Supposed incompetence built up a fence
****** differences I guess, shall decide your intellects
Now, do these views, say more about me or more about you?
I ponder your opinion, and wonder how you use that to rule us into our separated dominions
How is this decided, that I'm lesser than a man, when clearly I am just as human?
I know I sound feminist, please tell me how being a woman is a cause for dismiss?
I despise these sexiest views, because I am no less than you
That is false, not true, you sound like an idiot because you have no clue
You believe I should do this or sit like that
Well I don't agree, quite frankly that's not me
I like to sit like a "boy", and I don't give a **** if it's you I annoy
I'll wear boxer shorts and I'll build my own forts
I won't be submissive
I'll be permissive
I'll beat you at any game, I'm a lion and never tame
This is silly, I'm no ***** nilly, I know how to think on my own
Much to your disgust, I find this to be a must
Separation based on physicality, what a ******* up reality.
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
I regret (usually too late), the authority
Of the sitting government.
Any government.
Once in power (I regret that word)
The back room broking good ole boys
At the exit polls loose their senses,
Sight and hearing.
Feelings get hurt.
Taxes are wasted.
The trough gouging is too loud.
I resent lying.
I regret (mostly from the evidence),
The too full baskets of organized religion
Overflowing from indulgences;
The Roman fingers
Poaching coins for another memorial window;
The glass cathedrals
And get-a-way cars.
I resent hypocrisy.
I regret people don't arrive on time
(no matter the time);
Especially when outside anyplace waiting,
Perhaps a light for a smoke is needed,
Or there's inclement weather,
The nearby company is distasteful.
Waiting dinner.
Late children are the worse.
They cause worry.
I resent the selfishness of time.
I regret being diseased,
And hated for it.
When in remission I'm loved.
Active, not so much.
The know-its say it's a matter of will.
Like you can cure
Cancer or smallpox with thoughts.
The one symptom alone, hurt,
Would need temples of meditating chanters!
I resent condemnation.
I regret failed relationships:
Family, friends and women.
My thoughts are mine;
If I said everything
You'd have a different opinion
Of what I am.
So we don't
Because we can't
Say things: we would appear as socio-paths.
We think good and bad;
Therefore we're real.
A virtual humanity.
I resent blathering.
I regret an educational system
That believes in paradigm shifts;
Spouting new-age lingo:
If it's not broken, break it;
Selling out to athletics,
Or Mr., Ms and Mrs. know
All about education;
They went to school.
Bullies top the list.
I resent permissive parents.
Most of all,
I regret
My resentments.
Jul 15, 2014
Jul 15, 2014 at 12:44 AM UTC
These empty eyes are being drained
By this evolution of culture
Reversing back to one-celled creatures
Front row seat to the never ending horror feature
The white ones get stripped bare
The black are killed and disposed of
Like the were never here
Make the same mistakes
Over and over again
Then your fear rapes
But you're so willing to slip it in
You drop down onto your submissive knees
Spew out ******** apologies
Your permissive mind leaves you vulnerable
Anything but invincible
Dream of a heaven so high in the sky
Dying to get there
Living in sin, don't wanna try to get out of the grave you dug
Of this Hell hole of despair
Dec 5, 2010
Dec 5, 2010 at 7:58 AM UTC
I walk the swamp land with saliva dripping from my jowls,
My brother howls at the crocodile ripping its prey.
It’s been a long day on the hunt for dry land
Where moss is elevated three feet to escape the gripping hand
That keeps us grounded in the moisture
While our tongues crack like a surrendering oyster.
It’s murky;
Opaque with sediment.
Caws and cackles, rattling drums
The search for firewood, four broken thumbs.
But um, we’ve just completed a circle
And still the sun is setting.
Time is permissive
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 5:57 PM UTC
I bring his shoes
in from the yard
and ask my wife
is father
here
-
my son
is a sound
that tells me
beauty
is a sound
that tells me
nothing
-
god hounds
my perfectly
childless
and too
permissive
brother
whose first
word
was password
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 3:13 PM UTC
You make me think the most inappropriate thoughts
in the most appropriate times
You leave me stuck hiding blushes and suppressing sighs
I didn't understand what soft features were
until those teasing eyes locked into mine
and I wanted to reach out to close the distance
between my shivering frame and your hands
Was my expression as permissive as I felt
More , was my body beckoning as my thoughts were
I guess you must have heard me through the walls
for I found your body answering my unsaid mind calls
all of you down my neck , along my back
leg to leg , knees bent at the same place
there was a little dancing , so as to appear innocent
but your voice turned me around and we were face to face
your thumb gently up and down my palm
and I took you away , we parted from the crowd
tripping onto the cushions before the door clicked shut
the length of me folded into the length of you
and we continued our not so innocent dance
a pas de deux of our voices escaping
through the rise and fall of our molded bodies
pushing each other to the finish
yes , yes oh darling yes runs through me .
May 16, 2012
May 16, 2012 at 3:35 AM UTC
Parents are your first teachers;
But if they were permissive,
Teachers have rules they follow through on.
If parents were too strict,
Teachers cut you slack.
If you fall, they may or may not pick you up.
If you were abused, they will report it,
Despite all your objections.
If you've been excluded, you're now in a class.
If you're really smart, they'll show you how much there is to learn.
If you're struggling, they'll show you how to learn.
If you're afraid, stand beside a teacher.
If you're a bully, you will confront your victims.
If you're in doubt, they'll search you out.
If you're cocky, they'll trim your spurs.
If you're lonely, they have room.
If you need solitude, they have a room.
If you're in love, they know the season;
If you know hate, they know the feeling.
When you compete, they're in the seats.
When you're sad, or conflicted,
Teachers listen.
They taught Moses, Jesus and Mohamed,
Yes. Teachers beget teachers.
They instructed Socrates, Aristotle and Plato.
They put us in North America and on the moon.
They worked with Salk and Banting, Gates and Jobs.
Anyone can learn something.
They even taught our parents,
But not everyone learns.
Hey, Teachers, don't leave those kids alone!
Aug 28, 2025
Aug 28, 2025 at 11:29 AM UTC
As red karma busters
of forgiveness sown
your story starts
a-new flowing
he-art's dew
permissive
glowing
shows
All as
it is
Tr
U
!
L
U
V
'
D'EYE'D
I
V'I
N
E'
:D~>
O+
:
^
"
!
'
'
.
.
.
Oct 13, 2012
Oct 13, 2012 at 12:25 PM UTC
I’ve grown weary of those who claim
A false tense of enlightenment
So bored of vast displays
Of neon pigments and entitlement
For where the fairies walk
And spirit hooded figures talk
I cannot find, cannot divine
Where soul and ego bear to walk…
( in unison )
So permissive is this culture,
That I feel the eyes of vulture
Preying on the weak and un-avowed
In what kind of world is this allowed
(to continue?)
But who am I to question,
The laws, the rites of these transgressions
I am merely just an actor
An inconsequential factor
But I do I dare deny
That in your dogma there’s a lie
For all the glitter in the world
Cannot turn **** into a pearl
Oct 12, 2015
Oct 12, 2015 at 7:56 PM UTC
The world is now a medley
Contradictions, paradoxes, and catch-22s
Values and morals broken
by Tolerance
And this is incidentally overly-permissive
her secret is...
The very infrastructure
The basis of normalcy is
not just broken down
But warped altogether
Shabby Spackle cracks reveal CHANGE
Ephemeral periods to lick wounds
That are, indeed, a fallacy
And the dogs howl for convalescence
Imagine the point of no return,
where light can only remain an idea
for the overwhelming pitch black veil enveloping you
Faces distant blur as shadows creep contemptuously
Through a place only light should know
The gateway to the soul has been breached!
Defaced, sold.
With a guaranteed price tag!
Because...?
Silence
Jun 30, 2014
Jun 30, 2014 at 11:31 PM UTC
High pitch community
From one single tone
Can go from home
To a killing floor
Made all the more harrowing
Toxic trauma of the mind
Freeze up they said
Yet we push on
And we pushed hard
We pushed it too far
Then let down our gard
And now the lights flicker from green to red
A premonition of bloodshed
Locked inside the voice of
A brother or a friend
Neither one is talking now
Survive it says
Static cuts through
And the line drops dead
Outside my head the night goes on
Cheery faces basking in the light
Permissive out of innocence
Enjoying spite out of spite
Who is right
It doesn't matter
My eyes burn bright
But no one can hear
Screams are echoed all around
But transaction leaves my words devoid
Bliss is heard amiss, above
We coveted and now we pay
The price of our sin
Mar 29, 2017
Mar 29, 2017 at 6:45 PM UTC
My own Personal Playground of Persistent Pandemonium
Pisssing People off Passionately,
Playing more than just a Part in their Problem
Picking Particular Pieces to Pack this Prolific Poem
Pulling off a Perfectly Perceived Premise
Until your Placement becomes your Permissive Prison
Poetic justice, I've got a Poetic license,
Permitting Primitive Primate like Procedures
Possible only because Perplexed Principles Prematurely, albeit Permanently, Pick Pungent Practices
Primarily Planning Precarious Peril, Priming Painful Predicaments
Publishing Print on Paper
Pent-up Paranoia Pushing Profane Prophecies
Probably Protruding Past Popular Perception
Preventing Pint sized Pea brains from Polluting People who Ponder their Planetary Purpose instead of Perfection
Parallel Planes Pairing Probable Permissive Propaganda
Providing Precision on Par with Polaroid Picture Panorama
This Pricey Psyche showing Persistence Prevails
But can't Press Pause
So Please hear my Plea,
Pretty Please,
Permit me the Power to Permanently Purge the Piercing Pain
To Ponder no longer the Placated Pointlessness of the Puzzle and Put away Pandora's box
To Promptly Procure my Place beyond Purgatory
As Promised
©2024
Apr 4, 2024
Apr 4, 2024 at 2:20 PM UTC
In Heaven,
God knows me;
You have no power
over me.
You rather do God's job-
I rebuke the Devil's
fight for all these
emotions and feelings.
God says- dispel hate;
You say- dispel love-
clear the gutters;
in your mind-
you perceive what is
lustful; I perceive what
perfect harmony of togetherness.
This has been broken-
even before the Devil
brought the storm.
You were the worst;
there is no others
like YOU!
Your mind is so confused
that when you think about Me;
You think of defeat.
When I think of You
I think of Judgment!
How dare you
question God's forgiveness.
Grudge equals
impalpable forgiveness.
The curse of reality
has been fluttering
Your mind-
it is time to move on
from the garbage
of permissive dangerous
desires, because
Your definitions
only define You.
I am still walking
even in the storm.
I will stand in the end-
You will sit back and wait-
ALL communication is canceled;
You will no longer
be a part of me
or my legacy
nothing changes Your
wicked mind-
in the unjust
judgment
that only creates
lust in Your mind.
I do not need to cry
about unrealistic
problems-
You are my problem;
and I am glad
I know longer have
to deal with You.
I do not NEED ***
drugs, food, power,
fame, and money-
Oh no! God will provide.
God has always provided
for Me.
I held on for
way too long-
and I do not even know WHY?
My patience was
hoping that You could
See for what you were blind.
I made my decision-
the Great Divine says,
"Do Not Rebuke this Demon!"
You are now gone from
ME!!!
Like other demons-
I will sit back
and watch you burn.
I went through MY
REALITIES....
the realities of changes-
I learned new
spiritual truths-
WHAT?
Did You learn?
YOU- make me sick-
I will have what God
WANTS in My life-
and YOU can sit
in the fire-
and watch buildings
Go Up, WHILE
You go down in flames.
Social Network is TROUBLE-
You found trouble
over a great legacy.
WHAT?
Is the best chance?
Will I see you again?
Do I want to see you, again.
NEVER- YOU
are my trouble-
and You took yourself
away before I did.
YOU have judged me
WICKEDLY- and Your
WICKED thoughts are
NOT MY OWN!!!
I have taken You
You no longer
have hope with me
until You learn Your LESSON-
the lesson of FORCED POWER-
WHEN? reality YOU have no power...
Find your proof
BEFORE You can stand UP
and BLAME Me!!!
Hate is only four letters;
yet, so is the word "if,"
If only- Your mind saw
Differently-
You would have never
Hated me-
therefore, because You really
Hate me-
There is no love.
Oct 14, 2014
Oct 14, 2014 at 7:35 PM UTC
Submissive, permissive
The son and the father.
Furtive, pensive
The mother and her daughter.
A family of sides,
a relationship of colors.
Blue, grey, black, white,
of the bruises on each other.
Daddy Dearest takes a sip
of his favorite poison chosen.
Mommy Darling breaks a hip
upon the floor she lays frozen.
Girl and boy, husband and wife
Innocence, poor girl, is dead.
When she leapt off the ledge of life
a smile glued on an empty head.
Dead girls make pretty pictures
against the son's sweat-stained wall
it's so hard to follow ardent strictures
when all he wants is love from them all.
Husband drunkard, daughter gone.
This poor family's gone awry.
Son of obsessions, mother harmed,
why can't this family all just die?
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 7:35 PM UTC
i.
one helpless, one permissive
I made quickly
equal cuts
in the newborn-
deep that they’d honor
my witness.
ii.
to pre-empt déjà vu
I tailored the newborn’s gown
to the debt of its body
with such fabric
I could not afford.
iii.
that it could sound check
the echo
I named it child.
iv.
renamed it whistle
for how the wind
picks up
forgetting.
Jul 30, 2012
Jul 30, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
I had the dream again
Last night
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Paintings of life still dancing in my head
Bright light fading
Pouring orange hues and dull yellow rays
Cascading down over earthen tones
Dark green grass masking over
Thick as the leaves blowing in the summer breeze
That was how the sun set
Just a few feet outside my window
A view tailored just for me
For a moment
Blades slowly turning
Endlessly circling
Watching the shadows emanate from their continuation
I know
Blowing ever cooling air into my room
I never thought it would end
But the light faded
And what was left weighed heavy on my eyelids
Eyes shut, I found myself
Slipping further and further into the state
Between life and death itself
No longer aware of the confines of fate
Above me, shackled in place
Slanted up, ever out of grasp
Yet, constricting in my space
dissipated, pulling back a mask
My soul was glowing
Eyes closed shut
Flowing freely out of my self
Motionless and clear cut
So well defined
Hung wrong side up
Arms outstretched from my sides
Blissful and permissive
Opened, floating still
Serenity surrounding
Basking in the glow
Traced back to my window
Seeping over the sill
Across the blades of my fan
Blowing life into my form
New motion brought to life
Free of scorn, near reborn
Suspended above my comatose
Form
And what I found
There
On a summer night
Unaware
Of the world outside
Outside of what
I could see
Was what I have come to terms with
A whole other side of me
And from that moment
I have derived something
A feeling
I'm not convinced
Anyone else has felt this
Just a kid
Probably could have missed it
And from what I think now
Ideals forming around
Negative spaces
And people or places
But ****** if I don't
Still think about
How it felt
To be that kid in his room
With the light
Fading through
A window fan
Jul 1, 2017
Jul 1, 2017 at 4:40 AM UTC
I’ve seen trees in white dust covered in red barks so to lean asking the dark-skinned civilian soldier to dance, to ****
as cranes stood awfully still in the night vigil of unsupported rhythmic rant, as mosque songs flew in cacophony with her
mental amber, whose face drips off at semi-covered sick puddle with dissolved soft tissues in magnificent soccer performance
and entering an expensive trance to answer foster homes or metro-stop problems selling large and loud fried mechanisms
of lively things, of trendy modes of being, as borrowed bikes lie unruly besides the rock, not locked but saddled down
not the saddened frown of foreigners, British consuls, forced English speakers or almost bald kindly smiling losers
that protests this portrayal, oh-so-heavily in cynicism’s eye, in the proud rooster display of really bad water quality
as I choose to not holler my soul out nakedly there, but over here where the prettiest girl in a hijab does smile
at her pious children playing wild, such bliss, that I would never know from the white thick films of her grandfather
that is mean to say, “someone down that ancestral seam must have done something.” implying folly, nothingness
in our libertarian mistletoe waltzing in suits and formal wear all andante in terminating station’s bugle’s sheer force
at its permissive admittance of goodbyes, in wispy accents that bothers your courageous boss’s college graduate daughter
at the cruel light-blue decoration bulbs draped across coconut trees that never fruit and hence is safe for the street
at the murals and skateboarding sites overfilled with graffitied mathematical equations in proud display of young idealism
at freshly brought cheap soy sauce smells rising high over no chimneys and new energy
for those without another home to smile wistfully
before bumping into the traffic lights, running amok, declaring themselves chickens.
Jun 1, 2018
Jun 1, 2018 at 10:15 AM UTC
the wishing wells eating up their spells, the mystery tour catching an early flight to greeece and ending up broke with no fishing tail to catch onto, mystery wheels of which way and rhyme a quick way to pass the time working on fishnet and fishtails to bring into a *** of good luck that can either be lousy or unimpressive and stupid the lovers cast their first spell and fear is driving them but its heading up to good luck, and the clouds are permissive, and they understand what they need to understand, and I’m not doing this for anyone but myself from now on, I guess thats just a decision that you have to make, and the precious fools who make an irony out of their vanity will be great too, and we will do a dance together, yes we do a dance together
I am a man that wants to do his best to preserve what is coming, to grant solitude and goodness to those that were good to me, I believe in a God moving through things, controlling things that I cannot understand, because things are just too **** complex, working way soldiers on a ride to vacancy, vacancy, vacancy, oh just scribbles and random dots showing on either side of reading lot and loving the poetry and the history of it, and sometimes there is a movie, oh sometimes a classroom is a place to dream, to dream rather than to actually focus on the lesson, a random destruction of beauty, a random destruction of beauty, lovely forces making on a take out transition into fuller notions of equality, and loving their morality, and just making their decisions good enough to foster an excelllece, of equal stature of equal pride, moving through the ride, moving through the ride, and they all excel at what they can and cannot do, and he kept them still cool, and he could have taken the ride, but he chose not to, what of a hero? what of a savior? what of a pastor attempting to take down everything that he has already established and coming up with nuclear error, pasting out the tangible worst of makeshift cranny acid truculent succulent brandy candy plans to see me jammy
Feb 26, 2016
Feb 26, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
Starved in daylight,
survive on ready meat of permissive night.
Feb 1, 2014
Feb 1, 2014 at 2:17 AM UTC
It's surely incumbent on us to move faster
to try and prevent an impending disaster.
Widespread destruction is surely illicit
but those of high morals are fully complicit.
One ponders a path where production's pervasive;
our product promotion has grown too persuasive;
our gadgets and gizmos distinctly delight us;
the path of our passage lies deep in detritus.
We now find ourselves in a sad situation,
defiant of logic despite education.
One might think a culture of waste so permissive
might foster a climate of doubt more divisive,
but we, in confusion, prefer the illusion
that comes from the fusion of greed and delusion.
The outside observer could be quite confused
to see our surroundings severely abused,
but being objective, it it isn't that pleasant
observing the future consumed by the present,
so we have a culture that's deeply diseased
and live, for the most part, quite pleasantly pleased.
Jun 9, 2017
Jun 9, 2017 at 8:03 AM UTC