"placated" poems
When you touch,
It is withholding.
When you moan,
It is suffering.
When you smile,
It is mercy.
When you laugh,
I am placated.
When you swoon,
I am not there.
When you vibrate,
I only witness.
When you taste,
I only imagine.
When you love,
I am unknown.
Jul 21, 2012
Jul 21, 2012 at 11:53 PM UTC
- - - there are the days when
i savor my isolation,
i savor my freedom.
in this state is when
Urania came forth
to lift my chin,
to lift my gaze
from finite walking-path
unto Eternity of existence.
She placated me, brought me
to surrender of my Self.
and i lay staring at the ceiling,
longing for a little rest knowing
i did this to myself, and
i don’t complain to you.
- - - there came a conclusion of
self-destruction as
the only thing to depend on.
and i destroy myself
through entertainment
while
fighting tooth and nail to survive.
- - - Sunday 5.30ante.
began Friday 9.30post,
Saturday 9.30post is twenty-four.
i am four short of thirty-six.
and my turbulent stomach awaits
the imbibement of a hard benzo –
(shorten’d word to be hip.
[also the reason i used an infinitive])
by this point i am deranged
and trace mildly. not just
a fancied flight alongside a reality
my mind deceives me of. not
just an insaned delirium
i perpetrate. maintain. sustain.
disdain.
space to insure emphasis,
- - - have i been outward too long.
i sweat naked in the snow thanking,
no Deity,
but instead handful of
multi-color’d, shaped, strength downers.
and i smell’d on death
perfume of flowers as
its figure look’d me over –
naked freezing wretch –
and extend’d claw with
rotting flesh no where
in pace with this vessel’s.
i began to blue, and the
shadow of my end
falter’d in my mind.
lungs, in impulse,
heaved air within themselves.
stretching frozen sternum.
- - - let’s take some math,
how about:
zn+1 = zn2 + c
i am patient,
please explain in detail.
Dec 23, 2012
Dec 23, 2012 at 5:44 AM UTC
I said I’d return
Some time ago
Anticipating it was true
But broken matter surrounded me
Now it’s tantalizing heartbreak
Followed by whispers in the night
It’s like I lied
And I stole from you
Now I’m lost
I’m sorry I’m such a lost cause
I’m sorry I made you tremble
But the tantalizing heartbreak told me
That I forgot you tonight
Please stay so near
I’m crying and weeping inside
Don’t placate my fears
Nothing matters
Can’t you see
I don’t care
Tantalizing heartbreak
Teaching me whispers and lies
I did lie
And I stole from you
I’m so lost
I’m sorry I’m such a lost cause
I’m sorry I made you tremble
But the tantalizing heartbreak told me
I forgot you tonight
You’re not safe here
You’re crying and weeping inside
I placated your fears
Everything matters to me
Can’t you see
I still care
The tantalizing heartbreak
Lied
Jun 26, 2018
Jun 26, 2018 at 11:46 AM UTC
“The Maiden”
Over her long legs,
Hips sway in a salacious manner,
As she strolls,
Past the gaggle of gentlemen,
Mustering the valor to face,
Their glances varying from curiosity,
To disgust,
Perhaps intrigue as these men,
Behold this exotic form of femininity.
An aura of mystery emanates,
From a tenderly warm demeanor,
Welcoming the viewers,
Who encounter this daughter of Aphrodite,
Capturing attention regardless of,
One’s alleged reasoning.
Intrepid knights receive the blessing,
To witness the hazel windows,
Into a maiden’s soul,
Deeply adorned with unbidden intensity,
Bestowing a small glimpse,
Into a beguiling beauty,
Mistaken as a cozening siren,
To an untrained eye.
Many chaps desire her,
Until revelations bereave these fellows,
Of security interwoven into the fabric,
Of society sewn with fine threads,
Uniting into an existence of conformity.
Some licentious men lunge,
At the maiden,
Gaping at what these fellows,
Observe as a tantalizing goddess,
Desiring to place lascivious hands,
Upon her soft skin.
Misguided stories allow life to be given,
To glaring spectators,
Spewing jeers of rancor,
Bemused as the unknown,
Deftly saunters near,
The valley of Oblivion.
Like the majestic Mona Lisa,
The maiden consists of subtle nuances,
Painting her tributes behind cryptic techniques,
Allowing one to inspect her façade,
Learning her similarities to the wind,
Feeling her spirit,
Rather than glancing upon visual proof.
The souls encountering the maiden,
Gain respite from strangling thoughts,
Placated by her light,
Revealing the contrasts,
The highlights to expose,
An extraordinary beauty,
Manifesting from genuine kindness,
Breaths of generosity,
And irrevocable love of all shades and tints,
Within a painter’s palate.
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 9:15 AM UTC
she was reading haruki murakami
and licking her lips of muffin crum
bs - - i, placated via cellphone, calle
d to leave a message for a friend ab
out Oscar Wilde's De Profundis a
s i think i forgot it on his couch spea
k-easy speak-fast distract myself wit
h cigarette headrush rants and slow-
mo's she moves close gazing as i c
uriously whisper back with connect
ed pupil and she comes so so close - - g
arbage can next to me close - - she keep
s peeking at me, pulls out norwegian w
ood scans road i awkwardly pull out an
thology of chinese poems from backpa
ck to possibly impress! she keeps peek
ing peeking peeking i almost start conve
rsation but heart-beats race-track grand
prix miss my bus and i know it almost re
trieve cigarette from pocket (ghoulish goo
dy) second-guess she may think it unattra
ctive? no shiney faced race horse (*do u ev
en lift, bro - - no dude i don't, i literally do
n't lift*) cement truck clamours past and i n
ot really paying attention to the ******* c
hinese poems anyway begin to read the way
the sun glances off the spinning barrel like c
hinese poetry - - glancing always to newspea
k my way into awkwardity so ******* he
adrush** she walks away, turns on heel to loo
k me in darting eyeballs (*are u coming? i sup
pose so, jesus*) i clamour onto my feet and foll
ow her pretend to be checking bus-times ya fu
ckin goof 15X arrives and she departs without
a smoke-signal we were close we were close we
were close *and i missed my bus waiting for my
self to brave-and-snake* so i walk away pretend-
careless and finally retrieve cigarette from pocket
read the smoke like chinese poetry (ghoulish goody)
Nov 27, 2013
Nov 27, 2013 at 5:49 PM UTC
to the crescent bearing jewel
who’s pure as jasmine,
easily placated
with heartfelt devotion,
eradicator of the
lingering fear of annihilation,
i offer my toxic ego
for a deserved crucifixion
© 2019
Jun 26, 2019
Jun 26, 2019 at 10:41 AM UTC
come ever falling summer's moon
astounded of my skull
a timid knuckle espousing glimmering
able digested muck
so shorn of lucky timber; a swelling soul
tingle hard cancer
some dna i cleft and palate gently naked
fornicating dancer
a **** clever imperfect blemish postulating
feminine crank
turn in angles unimaginable
and growl a sun placated ephemeral ***** light
i cup in oral extremal
a cur vy violet lung ; you are beyond every other blush.
Dec 20, 2010
Dec 20, 2010 at 2:28 PM UTC
My ***** felt a feather heavier than iron
As I’d opted for anything other than rollover
Whilst puking up that, “nicer,” guy.
The drink’s a ghost. The scold’s a mixer,
Soured on the rocks, Shaken, not stirred,
Stirred, not shaken,
And without a sliver of, “he,” who’d opt
Accommodate or acquiesce.
Call it, “transcendence,” I guess?
Born a realization that this world’s,
“DOG-EAT-DOG,” or,
“GOD-EAT-GOD,” or,
“GOD-TEA-DOG,”
And should I not comprehend
This very simple reality,
I’d be a doormat unto my own grave.
So I fail, I’m frail, and all for one tail
Prior the act that’d ever invoke,
“Leave;” even atop the eve of beggary.
Resolute? I’d opt for the longer life, perhaps,
Not that I’d wanted to live to long anyway,
But I’d made a choice,
I’d arbitrated one cardinal direction – elliptical.
I’d acted, placated, satiated, intimidated,
Decimated, defecated, wiggled my right pinky
And culminated a prayer atop altars, “godless,”
To never knock upon that door again.
And so, but one question remains,
“Did I?”
Jul 2, 2015
Jul 2, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
Amassed an inventory of words, marvelous and concordant, reserved for the late at night, tremulous and tremor shaking, purposed to soothe with honey, milk and cookies, and coax them, the odd ones out, to emerge slowly, oh so slowly, with a magnetic resonance, yank them from their granite tombs, and employ the force of Od to convert them over to their own side, and will not pause, be placated until they are my spring waters, my co-religionists, in grace and kindness, and I will levitate them above us, espousing our collectivity, each a designer, an artist of our gemeinschaft, free to come, free to stay, free to endeavor to clarify and excavate the roots so deep of the thin reeds of their solitary society, to stand up and count yourself linked but incapable of breaking the chain (see my photo) and even though there is nothing new under the sun, let us all remind them, a Seussian refrain, the sun nonetheless will come and clang, invitation engraved, naming you with calligraphic flourishes, a fine poem planted firm in our rooted hands saying:
Welcome child
>~~~~~~~~~<
*God Blesss the Child Whose Got His Own
Billie Holiday / Arthur Herzog Jr.
Them that's got shall get
Them that's not shall lose
So the Bible said and it still is news
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Yes, the strong gets more
While the weak ones fade
Empty pockets don't ever make the grade
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Money, you've got lots of friends
Crowding round the door
When you're gone, spending ends
They don't come no more
Rich relations give
Crust of bread and such
You can help yourself
But don't take too much
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
Mama may have, Papa may have
But God bless the child that's got his own
That's got his own
He just worry 'bout nothin'
Cause he's got his own*
Aug 19, 2013
Aug 19, 2013 at 1:14 AM UTC
you call me beautiful,
as if it was my name
your eyes smile as if
that word defines me.
as if every time your
eyes will meet mine —
I am the epitome of beauty.
I only knew you a short time,
but you were the first person
who ever placated the voices
inside my head, screaming
how imperfect i am.
I never wanted to believe
but for the first time
this word has an effect
to beat them down.
Your hold onto my head,
the smile on your face,
the perfection of the way
how you look at me
and how the word ‘beautiful’
fall over your lips
and
into my ears
are just so perfect.
I want them.
I want them to stay
May 31, 2014
May 31, 2014 at 6:04 AM UTC
Sir Isaac Newton wasn't "using his head"
When the "aha moment" fruit fell
He assumed it was gravity, an attraction to the earth
It was weight and decay rate, no romantic pell
Many scream "separation of church and state"
In the Constitution you will not find that phrase
But in a personal letter to the Danbury congregation
It has been arbitrarily elevated to "law" in our nation
In the Scopes trial Evolution was criticized
Scopes was arrested, the masses cried "victimized"
To play on the "heart-strings" of the "under-educated"
Those worshippers of Evolution were placated
Hypocrites obscuring all God-given laws
Building a "strawman" with individual straws
Satan has questioned all God's "thou shalt nots"
NASA has filmed in a studio basement "our Astro-nots"
Jesus' words have been futurized by Baptist dispensation
Jesus said plainly it's "in this generation"
Scripture is not a "wax nose" you can eisegete
Exegete in the present tense Greek
How do we equitably represent all voices, in a
Public school system that claims they consider all choices
Public schools don't exist, "special agendized" schools do
Claiming universal intolerance, they're intolerant of truth
Let us say in the "Dagon bye" to all "blessings in disguise"
We'll be in[spire]d by the "blessings in the skies"
We're all from Adam's atoms by God's sovereignty
Lord roll my soul in humility, cajole my spirit patiently
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 11:25 PM UTC
There is humility in astronomy, an irony in the economy of the stars, stalling me in the calm, but violent swarm of galaxies formed in the back of a speeding car from afar, coming back to bet the bank on distances, and states of gaseous faces on planets placated with servants to Satan, flagrantly begging for space ships to take them.
Take them to the place where fate is sedated, and rearranged to uncling the things estranged in the fanged perfection of the prey that pray, to place their hope in a slate to later revive from, inanimate stardom, starring from the trunk, in luckless stunts to **** outer worldly ***** that harvest seeds to weave life into the galaxies, so that we can now breathe..
Feb 17, 2013
Feb 17, 2013 at 3:42 AM UTC
Is this to be my anger,
then? A dormant dragon,
slumbering until woken. My blood
flows hot and fast and full
of dragonflame, just waiting
to singe anyone that might dare
come closer. For years I gave
the dragon free reign, incinerating
as she pleased. And for years
after that, I have placated and drugged her
with love and self-control. Being
around you brings back our long-suppressed
memories, old ways of burning
bridges and scorching foes. I never
wanted to hurt you, but you
are playing with fire.
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 4:32 PM UTC
HANSEL & GRETEL
she tested his mettle
for crossing her path
was stung by her nettle
for one minor gaffe
to get back his fettle
he did him some math
bought chocolate and petal
then ran her a bath
that made the dust settle
placated her wrath
then boiling the kettle
he tried not to laugh.
Mar 1, 2023
Mar 1, 2023 at 8:53 AM UTC
Blowing a plume of toxic smoke. Into the nebulous reflection of a pallid wasted face He grinsfrom ear to ear. The blood painted vulpine smile of a lunatic clown. The mirror image confuses the conflicted. Yet it speaks rancorous truths This is a very special day indeed. Fruitcake Day. We have all been released from the cages The human zoo has opened the gates of hell. Party hats are donned by the very special people as they walk about doomed to mortality. Let them enjoy brief moments of light. Placid and placated. Walking in a daze. Give them Thorazine lollipops and free passes. The bat cages are lying in wait
Apr 1, 2014
Apr 1, 2014 at 7:38 PM UTC
I will hold my breath,
Still with anticipation of the day
When children sleep soundly in their cribs,
When hounds stand poised and alert at their master's side,
When high school friends recognize each other after years of separation,
When the mendicant wanders a cold city after dark,
When the ever-thirsting stock broker buys the American dream with stolen money,
When a sorry little girl embraces a once furious, now placated mother,
When a college student spends days in a library and nights drowning in cheap beer,
When a cozy red hand knit scarf protects an old man in the unforgiving snow,
When I finally find what I've sought for so long,
That will be the day I stop writing and start singing our song.
Jul 23, 2010
Jul 23, 2010 at 10:59 PM UTC
She’s a pistol and I’m so whipped.
She’s a cure and I’m so very sick.
It’s amazing the things she thought of;
to bring a glove, if push came to shove.
I fell inlove but first I tripped.
and usually I spring back up so quick.
She said “take one more for the road.”
What does it matter if I’m not taking you home?
I only want to unburden your load,
I thought that was already known,
lost in translation like playing games of telephone.
Knock me down like Dominos,
to keep me close and blame it on when the wind blows.
Knock me down like Dominos
to keep me close and also keep me on my toes.
I’m being fully placated, for my obsessive obsession
ignoring what was plainly stated in my last confession.
Please don’t let me be hated for my sporadic depression,
because I know that it’s fated for me to leave
an impression.
She said “take one more for the road.”
What does it matter if I’m not taking you home?
I only want to unburden your load,
and make you feel high, and sigh and moan
but lost in translation like my girl Scarjo.
Knock me down like Dominos,
to keep me close and away from your foes.
Knock me down like Dominos,
to keep me close and make sure I don’t go.
Knock me down like Dominos,
to keep me close and also keep me on my toes.
Sep 25, 2025
Sep 25, 2025 at 9:09 PM UTC
I blow dust off the book long forgotten;
It sprinkles like the stuff of faeries,
Gold and glittered across a mid-day sun,
A fraction of which allowed,
Through the only portal to me,
My one and only window.
The stars could twinkle somewhere south,
But I ply parallel a pale blue sky,
The trees, the birds, the oak and feather,
Simplicities from which I draw my breath.
It’s when my right eye twitches,
Ever so slightly, that this moment becomes
Ruined, reality and further ruined
By the projection of dead cells and mucus,
My reaction to the mites and memories within.
Soon after, tears from my left eye soothe
Parchment when empty entries persist,
And not from the moment I’ve found,
But upon the book that I’ve unearthed,
A tether yielding the child, “unworthy,”
And a life best to the orphaned,
Mothered by only the winds.
Thus I become the seconds where
The dust has since disappeared,
Moons offer placated grins,
And the magic’s all but exposed too,
Much like the my earlier sunlight –
Jokes behind omnipresent clouds, and so,
I slap the hand that yielded this treasure
And toss the jewels to the wolves below.
Leaving time, and myself, once more and
In ritual, to be forgotten.
Oct 28, 2016
Oct 28, 2016 at 10:44 PM UTC
Your voice, I'll take it
may it sing me softly home
Your touch, I'll take it
it's all I've ever known
Sit beneath the willow tree
but don't cry for me
Touch the earth, giving birth
for I am Life, you see?
I fed the flowers grown
that were cut so elegantly,
to lay against my will
upon a mound of earth
that could never contain me,
still
You insisted to lay your Daisies
when you knew I loved Geraniums
in a rainbow of colours
I could never be contained in
You placated me with Yellow and White?
Did I do you justice?
Would you never get it right?
I love colour, not just Black on White
I wrote a thousand words to you
every night
You read maybe, a hundred
and thought you knew me best.
But standing at my graveside
your Daises only prove
you knew
me less and less
Jun 17, 2014
Jun 17, 2014 at 6:26 AM UTC
Counting strands in laces
Tucking the dangleys
Into my boot
The spaces
From the chain
Remaining
Healthily
Away
As I Peddle away
In the rain
Makin the same
Mistakes
Again
Light headed
Escapes
Fading into
Landscapes
Placated
By this spaceship
And riding it
Into the wind
Wallowing
In its glint
Grinning
In the ambiance
Subservience
Unto the stretches
Fetching this
Fire inside
Felt
While I
Ride
The back roads
Dark and cold
Forboden
And alone
I'm riding home
Hoping for
The worst
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 11:50 PM UTC
So Here, settled, is the bare voice,
Quivering echoes of egos
Do minds make the world hear Drum Dreams?
Here poets have milked tired *******
Of language to allay the lone,
Weighted and burdened from out There.
To rid themselves the form, the world,
The plague of storms that rock this ship,
That overflows, that bleeds too much
Of the vision that draws and defines
The days when the traffic of life
Is the onslaught of passing time.
There we trudge onward grudgingly.
Cradled upright by crashing waves,
Lonely amidst the dim gray sun.
Unnerving the courage of souls
Man is hushed, left to silences.
Reticent and bearing the masks
Hiding in Drum Dreams. Unnoticed,
We’re every soul at the crosswalk.
Here stands the prolific poet
Painting the infinite canvas.
Dreams are swirled upon dreams, deformed
By time, stultifying the brain
With dreams swirled upon dreams, drying
Into dust, caught in the wind’s palm;
Riding the breeze into the stream,
Into the curled spine of the storm.
Dreams swirled upon dreams, seeping;
Painting, and painting the loathsome
Self, trapped in the drum dream, suckling
Violently out of her dream mouth.
He imagines and paints, writhing,
Vacant howling in stormy clouds,
Cast in impotent bloodletting.
Here stands the fanatic poet,
Painting the relentless image,
Playing placated remedy
To dreary drunks trapped in the Drum Dream.
Hear, She hums, she hums the Drum Dream.
And life sways back and forth
Dancing the way the night does
Under the cool glow of streetlights
And all that remains of the world
Are still minds, hypnotized hearts,
And her sudden suckles for breath.
And we slow dance to a rhythmic drum.
Here stands the Prolific Poet…
Jun 10, 2014
Jun 10, 2014 at 6:05 PM UTC
By darkness mid sweet night.
Blurred dreams in royal blue.
In placated sense of self delight.
A heart of gold was stole from you.
Captured in true reality.
This dream no more doth hover.
The wailing of the banshee.
Who once was trusted lover.
Thy man from sleep.
Who flowers brings.
Will surely weep.
When promises of wedding rings.
Through vacant eyes thee waits to see.
If truly darling thou wants me.
By ladylivvi1
© 2014 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Jan 3, 2014
Jan 3, 2014 at 5:33 AM UTC