"permit" poems
The great thing
is not having
a mind. Feelings:
oh, I have those; they
govern me. I have
a lord in heaven
called the sun, and open
for him, showing him
the fire of my own heart, fire
like his presence.
What could such glory be
if not a heart? Oh my brothers and sisters,
were you like me once, long ago,
before you were human? Did you
permit yourselves
to open once, who would never
open again? Because in truth
I am speaking now
the way you do. I speak
because I am shattered.
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Are you willing to take that chance?
To give into my seductive tone?
Let me touch your body with soft slow strokes.
Submitting yourself for an experience that could be your deepest intimate moment.
So let's go as far as much time you permit while my poison runs thur your bones.
Let's be discretely devoted while my voice gives you the chills.
A *** god willing to please his queen behind close doors.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
Only until this cigarette is ended,
A little moment at the end of all,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
And in the firelight to a lance extended,
Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,
The broken shadow dances on the wall,
I will permit my memory to recall
The vision of you, by all my dreams attended.
And then adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done.
Yours is a face of which I can forget
The color and the features, every one,
The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;
But in your day this moment is the sun
Upon a hill, after the sun has set.
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Be my novel tonight
Allow me to navigate the depths of your thoughts
and journey through the pathways of your mind while
merging in my imagination and infusing in my wildest
poetic fantasies. Inscribing in our bedpost an
unforgettable bestseller.
Be my music tonight
Let me groove to the beat of your heart picking up pace
as I explore new ways to invoke melodious outbursts. I
want to sing a duet with you of synchronized moans and
pleasurable sighs. Culminating with you belting out my
name in one final perfect note.
Be my masterpiece tonight
Permit me to trace my fingertips across every inch of
your frame as I find your sensually stimulating spots.
Armed with new knowledge and intent, sit back as I
stroke you with my brushes of desire and take you on a
creative adventure of twists and turns as I bring to life my finest
work of art and watch with all anticipation your love erupt.
© Tina Thompson
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 2:30 PM UTC
I scream to drown the noise,
And fight to hold my poise
Against this sonic wave
That dismantles and destroys.
This place that I called home…
It’s all that’s left of what I own.
I fear I’m destined to the desert,
Or somewhere desolate to roam.
Tried to convince my brain this wasn’t real –
That lies are all I feel.
I’m not sure why I fear this noise;
There’s nothing left for it to steal.
- - -
Yet, I plug my ears and scream;
Tear the stitching from my seams . . .
I find it difficult to sleep,
And near-impossible to dream.
I scream so hard it makes me sweat,
And my skin begins to gleam
*This heat turns smiles into tears,
Like water into steam*
My head begins to ache.
My hands begin to shake.
If I chose the wrong path,
I made one hell of a mistake.
While my lungs still permit,
I’ll keep their volume set on high,
Lifting my head to the clouds,
To scream at the sky.
I have yet to hear an answer,
And while I’m not much of dancer
I learned some steps from Lady Luck
In hopes to cure me of this cancer.
- - -
Now, I don’t believe in luck –
But she still left me with something . . .
While we danced I took notice;
The noise dulled slightly to a humming.
I looked back to Lady Luck
– and I’m sure this wasn’t just a dream –
But she had vanished to the air,
Like water into steam.
I said “I don’t believe in luck.”
She still left me something, though.
She said:
*“You can’t predict the world –
I assume this much you know…
But if a farmer plants a seed,
In that spot, a plant will grow.”*
One day, my throat gave out.
For no longer, could I shout.
And I don’t believe in luck,
So I was simply left with doubt.
I cursed that lady’s words.
I told myself that she was crazy.
When something caught my eye…
There - at my feet - grew a daisy.
A daisy… In the desert…
So despite how bad my head hurt,
I thanked God for Lady Luck.
I thanked God that I had met her.
The noise I heard was her opposite.
It was the presence of chance.
I've learned the farmer can’t predict the world,
But, as surely as seeds grow into plants . . .
My only choices are my actions.
So, I think I’ll take today to dance.
Mar 17, 2013
Mar 17, 2013 at 9:34 PM UTC
Her beauty doth arouse temptation
So fiercely though I cannot imagine
My struggle to resist laying upon my hand
The fairest strands that sit a top her head.
My hands tremble with delight
I sit in the midst of the worlds greatest disaster.
Yet I am reduced to the simplicities of batting my eyes
For this woman hath stolen my sight
Upon hers I am commanded to view.
Tis simply a fate solely unwished upon by few.
Her unwavering gaze cannot be replaced
By even the finest rewards from the heavens themselves.
The angels permit themselves to admire only afar.
For if too closely they arrive t'would be a prison.
The very same prison I hath myself locked within.
The key resting below where the heart doth reside.
To leave I wish not,
For to remove my eyes requires strength unseen by man.
I am a prisoner to my own Desire
Jun 4, 2014
Jun 4, 2014 at 4:33 AM UTC
Feelings are terrible teachers
They’ll stress your mind
and take away your time
you will never draw a line
on whether they’ll push or pull
If you refuse to listen
to their endless lectures
then expect to have these
constant complications
with their code of conduct
and their strict regulations
Yes, you can and will skip class
for as long as your white lies permit
But you know you’ll end up coming back
or end up punished by a higher hand
Soulless, stress-filled, a vacant face
stares you straight into your little eyes
and from here, your life begins to lacerate
Sep 6, 2014
Sep 6, 2014 at 9:33 PM UTC
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
It's amazing,
It's beautiful,
Maybe its the first time you'll see;
Hair so dark and 'puffy'
As the hair God gave to me.
But my hair is not a commodity;
A thing for you to gather round and see.
It is not something I pull out once a while
Just so you can take a peek.
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
Don't run your hands through it,
Don't ask me why it act's like that,
Don't ask me if you can pull it,
Don't pet me like I'm your cat.
Don't touch it without asking,
And worst of all ask and not wait,
Are your manners really that lacking?
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
Don't stare like I am some exhibit
Brought for you from far away,
Don't mock the way it looks on me
Don't say 'I don't like the way it looks today'.
It's My hair
On MY head,
So don't you even dare.
You're not the one that spends hours
Looking after my luscious hair.
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
Because many years ago
My ancestors were put in zoos
So people like you could know
How our hair felt, and our skin looked
Instead of just seeing old photos.
As if we were not human beings
With minds, and hearts and souls.
So my hair is not on display
For your viewing pleasure,
My hair is on my head for ME
And it has worth that you can never measure.
It represents Who I Am
My Tribe, My Land, My Culture.
So don't hover around with oily hands
Like a flock of curious vultures.
So for the love of all that I know
Please DO NOT TOUCH MY HAIR.
And don't ask me why you can't,
Don't say it isn't fair.
Because would I walk up to a stranger
And ask, only to receive a no
Then go on and touch it anyway?
...I didn't think so.
Please Don't Touch My Hair.
This is the last time I'll say it,
I cannot be silent any longer
I will not tolerate it.
I've given it all I can
I have been very patient
But I will not let this continue
This I will not permit.
If you say you are my friend
You will respect this
Its My Hair, on My Head
And that's all there is to it.
Nov 4, 2016
Nov 4, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
You don't show any clear emotion, don't permit
Me to begin to understand why this is the way
You react, there is never a real explanation
You never thought i deserved one. i don't think
You know how much i truly felt that need for
You to just accept me, not judge me but
You don't know when to stop because
You enjoy it, enjoying hurting Me
May 19, 2017
May 19, 2017 at 11:27 AM UTC
Distance, is this air around me that is vacant of you.
Your heart, so far from mine, though I can hear it’s music.
Patience, is the belief that time without you is bearable.
Seconds slowly scrape along the line I drew to wake.
Nothing matches this ache.
of opening eyes to mornings, without your laughter.
Closing them is redundant,
it does not permit me back, to revisit the dream I had left you in.
Eyes instead reluctantly greet the sunrise,
whilst yours are still dancing, flickering, in the gift sleep brings.
I wonder if your searching for me.
Impatient hands long to pull you prematurely out of slumber. Reaching across this border in vain, restless mind teasing me,
as it thinks of holding you, kissing you, here. now.
Dare I soften the white peaks of the mountains that part us?
I mustn’t, thinks the patient witness of time I’ll wait for you on the other side my dear...join me, soon, I wait eagerly.
Jun 25, 2018
Jun 25, 2018 at 7:33 AM UTC
Who were you?
A foreigner
a mere woman?
Perhaps I valued you
beyond the common measure
I think of the possibility
of lives we have lived
in some past time
some other world
I guess I am a Buddhist
after all.
Because
this fascination
this love
goes beyond my experience
What can I compare it to?
I believe in the potency of desire
that it can manifest itself
across a span of years
a span of lifetimes
I can imagine
that we were
then as now
different in appearance
from cultures widely separated
Let's say that I wanted you
that you wanted me
for so it is today
Let's say that circumstances
kept us apart
or prevented us from meeting
as equals
Let us say, finally,
that this world
in which anything seems to be permitted
was created for us
that we might meet again.
What an absurd
romantic notion!
Tonight the lights are all on.
Other beings surround me.
This world is a different world
for each one of them,
though strangely the same.
Surely this world is ours.
The lights
are brightly lit.
Thousands of insects
cover the glass
dazzled by this light.
We must be dazzled, as well.
For none of us can see.
Not a one of us
can touch the heart
of another.
So since all is permitted
let us permit ourselves this
that we can touch one another
each into each.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 10:25 PM UTC
Words, words, words
I search for you
Permit me to express what I know
Engulf me with your power
And let me speak
The truth shall be free
And must be heard.
My tongue is tied
I summon you, my Muse
For inspiration
To speak the truth
Justice will be lost
And should be found
Words are my sword
to be heard and make a sound.
Never leave me, my Muse
Stay with me as I grow old
I need you here
In this lonely, treacherous world
Where truth must be told
Be with me, too
Not only in words
But of Will and Walk
So I can Walk my Talk
And be strong and bold
ns
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 8:27 AM UTC
I used to live in a country
That was based on liberty
And where just anybody
Could achieve prosperity
That with assured equality
And working diligently
One could expect definitely
To succeed economically
If you saved all the money
Left over from your salary
To save to bring your family
A step closer to solvency.
Not an impossible proposition,
It was based on the condition
Of a grand national institution
Which promised that stabilization
By taxing us and corporations
With an equitable correlation
Between folks of humble station
And the larger organizations
Working in happy syncopation.
A welcome feeling of elation
Would descend upon our nation
And keep us from stagnation
Or going into nationwide deflation,
Or just as scary, a huge inflation.
Now I look upon our history
And see decades of misery
Laid upon us by calumny
By those meant to fortify
And build up our security.
The constant forces of calamity
If we accept less than probity
From those who have no honesty
Choosing leaders based on beauty
A national cult of personality
Then permit political chicanery
By people with no dignity
Only a greedy criminality
That pretends to propriety
And a devout base of spirituality
When what we have is actually
A kangaroo court of dishonesty
Without a care for the citizenry.
May 2, 2015
May 2, 2015 at 9:18 AM UTC
O My Lord, greatly blessed are You!
I’m thankful and trying to express
the growing gratitude within my soul;
however, mere words lack the finesse
to exalt Your full grandeur… properly!
You are my sun and protective shield!
Let your righteousness flood my soul;
unto You alone, will my spirit yield.
Don’t let my ignorance and sad sighing
imply a lack of personal satisfaction;
I’m joyful and pleased from accepting-
Your Son’s, eternal gift of Salvation!
I’m humbled by Your grace and power;
Your wisdom defeats the inner violence
that seeks to isolate me from You;
quiet my thoughts with divine silence,
as I focus on our ongoing relationship.
Permit The Holy Spirit to blow over me
with a portion of Your sacred essence;
reveal the blessings that You foresee,
regarding my humbled heart and life;
make me sensitive to Your touch and will;
teach me to be productive with my time;
allow Your purpose for me- be fulfilled.
.
.
.
Author Notes
Inspired by:
Phil 4:6; Psa 34, 84:10-12; 1 Thes 5:18
Learn more about me and my poetry at:
http://amzn.to/1ffo9YZ
By Joseph J. Breunig 3rd, © 2015, All rights reserved.
Jul 30, 2015
Jul 30, 2015 at 11:41 AM UTC
Erstwhile, i cared for none
But now i have a promise
To the Lord that i can be
As worthy as a servant should be
The earth is my battlefield
Amid in the evil, wearily i stand
A relentless battle to survive
Trying hard to stay alive.
Each day I'm faced with opponent
In an arena crowded with temptation.
Masters of the dark distort my spirit,
In their deadly game, i am but a pawn.
So weak, i tremble with fear.
This unutterable battle, i am bound to lose.
Lord, send forth thy holy warrior
And save me O Lord, make haste.
He knows my every weakness.
My weakness his console,
But, Lord have mercy on me
For you said "My power works best in weakness."
Permit me as your lowly servant if i deserve,
And send me forth to justify the truth.
Nurture me under Your grace
And i will build in You a strong faith.
As a roaring lion he may come,
But i will stand still and never move.
For i have faith in You Lord
I will rejoice and forever be glad.
Lord, make me wise
That i may know his cunning ways,
Make a shield around me
And wrap me in Your loving arms.
I will watch and pray
Lest i get weary,
I have a life to sacrifice,
A heart to give.
Lord, have patience with me
"O Lord, do not rebuke me in your anger,
Nor chasten me in Your hot displeasure."
For i am but dust and You are my saviour.
I will prove to be your worthy servant,
I will honor Your grace and love,
Till the day i hear the trumpet,
In that day, i will greatly rejoice. AMEN..
Apr 15, 2016
Apr 15, 2016 at 8:08 PM UTC
It is a tell of
two adored in historic past
“Their life was bumpy
No one allowed them to tie the knot!
They were lucky
Times permit them to get nearer!
In the fullness of time,
They are happy
Since
Their new life is starts up!
They are starry
As
crops in their field are growing up!
They are brawny
Seeing
Her haulage to a new hope!
Their hopes are turns to gusty
Draught spread out
Crops ruined up
and in the bolt from the blue
He breathes his last!
She is becoming leggy
Tears and torn encircled
People started to blame!
All of a sudden
A magic brings Mosey
A birds comes in and
tell ‘I am here now,
Going sing everyday for you
and our up bring!’"
Then onwards
People in the hills
label birds calls are
the songs of their dearest one !
Now, birds are becoming honey
to everyone!!
Nov 29, 2014
Nov 29, 2014 at 2:24 PM UTC
130
These are the days when Birds come back—
A very few—a Bird or two—
To take a backward look.
These are the days when skies resume
The old—old sophistries of June—
A blue and gold mistake.
Oh fraud that cannot cheat the Bee—
Almost thy plausibility
Induces my belief.
Till ranks of seeds their witness bear—
And softly thro’ the altered air
Hurries a timid leaf.
Oh Sacrament of summer days,
Oh Last Communion in the Haze—
Permit a child to join.
Thy sacred emblems to partake—
They consecrated bread to take
And thine immortal wine!
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Her funky , modish, lingerie on a clothesline hung to dry,
doesn't bring to mind any wild imagery,
he just sees that: an undergarment
decency wouldn't permit to make an exhibit like this,
"My God!" he realizes with a shock"The midlife crisis has already started"
Oct 25, 2013
Oct 25, 2013 at 10:47 AM UTC
Time is all that sets us free
To all the wonders, that can be humanly perceived
Time is all that binds us
To mundane, almost emotionless routines we have conceived.
Time is the ticking of the clock
That gnaws at us; leaving no immediate mark
Time is the face that has come to mock
It creeps on regardless; you notice it turn light to dark.
Time is the invisible candle that everyone innately holds
It gets lit from the moment we open our eyes
Time is not the wick that gives berth to flame
Rather it is the waxes that burn and then vaporise.
Time can and will never stop
Moments go by with the blink of the eyes
Time..., it does not favour
It isn't biased, it doesn't get swayed by truths or lies.
Time is the entity that governs almost all
It will tell when it deems it's right
From seedling to tree, hatchling to flight
A weakness to strength, the frail to might.
Time is the quest
That we have strived to conquer
Time is all of us
We have secretly craved for life much longer.
Time would only permit
All that I could pen in time
Time will always suggest to omit
So I could capture it all in rhyme.
Aug 13, 2014
Aug 13, 2014 at 9:55 PM UTC
My dreams are filled with the rush
the freedom and the road
treading lines ahead of us
adhering too the code
The hum of radial tires
and the feel of your arms
burning with desires
passing fields and farms
It's not the rebel spirit
or the need to be untamed
not what others would permit
I'll never be ashamed
The heavens have no demand
that I will ever heed
as down the track my own command
the road, the wind, and you
fulfilling every
need
Aug 15, 2018
Aug 15, 2018 at 9:19 AM UTC
Choking on the sour taste of whisky as I say your name
My brown skin spoiled for your tongue
My heart beating to the rhythm of your drum
It calmed me to be able to surrender myself
to someone so pleasurably cruel
Going as far and as much time you permit
As your poison runs through my bones
His lips going down my neck
His breath burning my skin
Hickeys on my *******
His wandering eyes locked on my body
His hands tracing my curves
And then a stinging I felt. One that I enjoyed
You read my body's mysteries
Produce the scenes in my fantasies
My skin tied in your knotted desire
I bite my lip and press my thighs tight
And there you were, your hands around my neck
Making me light headed
Each whiplash, each biting scar
Each delicious sting from candlewax
The thin line between pain and pleasure
Only you know how to satisfy
This hunger inside of me
To make me scream and moan in sweet melody
His body was my temple
Taking pleasure as I kneel before him
And stand at his command
I knew the wetness between my legs
Would help him calm down his flames
And that his flames would cause a river
To flow down my legs
The storm inside me raging like a flash fire Consuming all in it's path
A tempest that drowns out thought and sounds
Swirling like a tornado of sensation
And I look up at him to hear his voice
The command that releases me
*** for me.
Aug 30, 2019
Aug 30, 2019 at 5:02 AM UTC
I love to carry two flags in my hands
Where ever I be on the Earth.
One belongs to the country where I started
My earthly journey.
The other drawn on the limits
On my global choices as a human.
A defined context,
The power of sight my eyes permit.
A global white of the snow or the clouds
A global blue of the sky or the sea
A global black of the night or eyes closed
A global green of the grassy land and leaves
Shades of red, yellow and orange merge into a disk
My heart is there, the gateway to nature's breath.
Oct 7, 2015
Oct 7, 2015 at 4:44 AM UTC
1,
you were already 16,
2,
but I was finally turning 15,
3,
you knew I didn't celebrate my birthday,
4,
but you never ask why.
5,
I had a birthday that coexisted around the time,
of valentines.
6,
We we're unable to see each other the week on valentines,
but the week after on my birthday we could.
7,
you faced timed me,
all week,
while working on my gift,
but never showed me your hands,
so I never saw the present.
8.
finally it was my horrible birthday,
a day full of crying at home,
but finally I was here at your house to hand you,
my pay check,
because I really wanted you to get your permit.
I knew how much you wanted it.
so I had 60$ for you.
9.
you came out,
saw me and picked me up and kissed me,
hugged me like a distant relative who was way to friendly would,
and like them,
we both acted in not wanting to let go,
10.
We went inside your house,
and sat on your tiny brown couch,
and your mom was so happy to take pictures,
and I gave you my gift,
11.
you opened it,
and you almost cried,
and I did see the tear in the corner of your eye,
then you left like the sun leaves the day to fetch mine,
12.
your mom got to talk to me,
and was so very happy,
she even made me a cake,
like one you would of seen at a wedding,
I couldn't of said thanks enough.
13.
you came back,
and you gave me a tiny little box,
and a note,
14.
you opened the box first,
and told me to read the note while he put my gift on me,
15.
my note said,
"baby you are my valentine,
and violets and roses combined,
will never be a more beautiful design.
Speaking of designing,
I made you this necklace and its shining,
just like your eyes,
but I cant rhyme,
so I hope you know this was more then for,
being my valentine one special day of the year,
its for everyday,
even your birthday,
so enjoy it more.
love,
the necklace maker"
and everytime,
I wore it,
I was happy,
because I thought of him,
15
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 8:43 PM UTC
a television interview, Oct. 2018 with Sir Paul McCartney
~for all of us, forever~
<•>
**** you Paul, old man
you trying to make us all look bad?
guess you’re just another
‘miner for a thousand years’
or more,
cause we haven’t seen a reason why the vein should run dry,
for the stolid earth resupplies endless old metal and the liquid veins
supply the need, the urgency of a warm gun of composition,
a drug nonpareil
and the things that provoke,
still provoke once more and again,
love and need, even memories,
petri dish cell regrown,
breathing atmospheric nutrients in the hotheaded hothouse air
of the human farm
‘tis why I paean you at 4:25am understanding full well,
better than most, for once I wrote,
it’s always the next one, that will be,
the flawless poem,
that will permit the laying down of the pen, the guitar
but even flawless is not
“good enough yet”
for all of us, forever*
for “yet,”
even more than forever,
is the most unlimited word we share
~
5:02am 10/17/18
Oct 17, 2018
Oct 17, 2018 at 2:06 PM UTC
XXII
When our two souls stand up ***** and strong,
Face to face, silent, drawing nigh and nigher,
Until the lengthening wings break into fire
At either curved point,—what bitter wrong
Can the earth do to us, that we should not long
Be here contented? Think. In mounting higher,
The angels would press on us and aspire
To drop some golden orb of perfect song
Into our deep, dear silence. Let us stay
Rather on earth, Beloved,—where the unfit
Contrarious moods of men recoil away
And isolate pure spirits, and permit
A place to stand and love in for a day,
With darkness and the death-hour rounding it.
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