"predilections" poems
Ganders...gargantua--ensconced in far-fetched space...
(attrition)...LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...
ROUND THE CORNERS OF PERPETUITY...predilections.
A soul's inalienable fracas...on bend and knee...hop...and
whoop...miasmic gargoyles poppy-wreathed...
for all-too-lucid dreaming...chanting etceteras of bare riff raffs.
Golden breastplates...weeping willow wings...empurpled--
fending fang trumping lines of: yuck, cluck, claw and kook.
...Listless eyes...alphabetize...think a blind oracle's informed
absentia...holy and bovine.
Redolent airs...perspiration of spume's most distancing shore--
eyepieces for the specks and logs in the oculos of brothers
and sisters.
As dust to dust doth not settle...heart's yonder score...nay cease
of interstice...off-world amorousness.
Gather ye yarrow sticks...hurl them at days...roofless arcady...
live into the spectra of their worlds, come friend or foe...Fate's foundling.
Lines strung as prayer beads...curs-ed beads...forget-me-nots
enclosed in letters baiting Long Farewells, in the great literary
correspondence of authored and Author.
...Ye gorgeous gargoyles come perch and push.
Persona non grata...the wide world...unisex prodigal...All--returneth.
LOOK AT THAT LINE...LOOK AT IT...(attrition)...ROUND THE
CORNERS OF PERPETUITY.
NEBULAEIC FANFARE...come perch to push...lo...ANGELS!
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 12:35 PM UTC
Maelstrom of emotion emboldening an eye opening betokening of an attitude full of alluring arousal
Walking thesaurus as fluid as a notable chorus playing in accordance with an authentic Baroque performance; silver-tongued eloquent deliveries enthusing an amusing musing
Roaring reassurance of being on the prospect of procuring central evidence - the preciousness within choosing a gained conscientiousness approach promotes an unadulterated antidote
Introspection of one’s predilections stirred the modern, robust direction toward the recollection of a pristine, internal haven nurturing relaxation and crystallization.
Nov 13, 2014
Nov 13, 2014 at 11:37 AM UTC
Many years ago from now
a gentleman I knew
his predilections were precise
and, to me, quite new.
He was intent on teaching
deliberate and firm
and from his experience
I began to learn.
So here arose my interest
it's him I have to thank
for taking me in hand so well
and giving me The Spank.
He wasn't ever lazy
never dealt out on a whim
he made me work to earn each stroke
I was obsessed with him.
I put in many hours
hatching careful plans
of how to win the best attentions
from this authoritative man.
I'd knock a stack of books
off the corner of his desk
and he'd lean back in his chair and say
"come here and lift your dress".
And I'd comply so gladly
already feeling hot
my bottom was presented
and his hand knew just the spot.
Sometimes he'd give me just the one
on a precipice I'd stay
longing for the three or four
I'd get later that day.
I remember him with fondness
he taught me many useful things
but most of all I thank him
for every little sting.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 7:16 PM UTC
Do I love you?
Must I say?
My heart's true song,
Gives me away.
With your predilections,
Just task of me Sonay,
And as in knighthood fictions,
Your dragons I will slay.
You are my sweet maiden,
Yet you are so strong.
You have your own blade in;
Your dragon now is gone.
Would you choose a worthless knight?
With you not for, Sonay love, I fight.
Jan 14, 2016
Jan 14, 2016 at 6:29 PM UTC
the first time we passed in the hallway
our energies awakened
to the presence of a like spirit
it was that instant that you
became my friend
although neither of us knew it yet
a year later, mouths and hearts opened
empathy
spirituality
humanness
and humor
linguistic nuances and predilections
sing with ease and asylum
the enlightenment and
liberation of being heard!
for this, i vow my loyalty
years, miles, and actions
are inconsequential
here i stand
confidante
encourager
synchronicity
how much you have been
to me is fathomless
the who you are, is soil under my feet
your words breathe air into my mouth
your kindness anoints my head with oil
Jun 29, 2013
Jun 29, 2013 at 1:09 AM UTC
Enchanting twilight hour-this is!
A Tiger spider of lethal
allurement,she is basking on
this hour's sweet ambivalence,
while,drinking me with her eyes --intense.
To be her mere companion
for the night,or be the purveyor
of delight to her continuing forever?
A choice depends upon her
kaleidoscopic predilections,
than me a hunter in a disguise,
a time traveler from far galaxies.
Jan 25, 2017
Jan 25, 2017 at 1:46 PM UTC
Wolastoq is the former Maliseet name for the Saint John River.
Overlooking the beautiful river
the wind is making an incredible
din.
And yet there is no offered
palm, just the driving. Direction,
float of gull.
Holds tight its secret
predilections.
It says go or come.
Follow me
or fight.
Sep 10, 2011
Sep 10, 2011 at 8:18 PM UTC
As alone I walk these emptied streets
the only rhythms heart and feet
I all around am sure I see
myself amidst the trees.
But no it cannot be, says me,
I am no scarecrowed bag of bones
whose clothes hang slack
and innards seep with leaves.
I am a man, methinks I say,
a human living breathing man
with no such predilections wrought
for suicidal sentiment.
It cannot is not mustn’t be me,
that body hanging limp in-tree,
that bullet ridden slumping form,
that sorry teenage lover-boy.
Dec 16, 2022
Dec 16, 2022 at 9:38 AM UTC
Saturday.
He fondles his roses
as little Beth walks by,
holding her mommy’s hand.
When mother and daughter
are up the street a bit,
he palpates petals,
lets thorn press into his crotch.
He is that nice old retired preacher
from the middle of the block.
He babysits Beth while her mommy
goes to the gym.
His predilections are private...
secret...
No one knows.
No one knows but little Beth...
and all the little girls before her.
Jul 25, 2015
Jul 25, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
from the limits of my white cocoon
fine spun dreams, predilections
and myriad desires
I perceive the world
and sadly it ends at the tip of my
nose
O how I long to rip off these
wretched mummy wrappings
and not have to listen to one more
funeral dirge
or see a tear fall from a grief
stricken eye
my anguished soul flails
wings clipped, bound hand and foot
inside a corporeal coffin
while a delicate butterfly prays for the strength
and faith to live if only for a
day in the bright expansive
colors of its True Self
Jul 6, 2014
Jul 6, 2014 at 12:31 AM UTC
Adulterous besieging capstone damnation
exploitation foists groping, heaving
insidiously jerking
knowingly lunges
machinations notoriously nymphomaniacal
officiating ****** quests
rapaciously, sadistically
tenaciously, unstoppably
vasocongested wickedness
Xerses yawped zeolously.
***************************
All throughout history of man/woman kind
ascendent civilizations extensively gouged,
impailed, kindled, murderous outrages
quashing sacred urges, women yearned.
***************************
Versatile thematic refrain punctuating nubiles
maximized looting, pillaging, ******
visited upon females via decimating fountainhead
guarding brestworks of vestal virgins,
innocent youths (little boys and girls).
***************************
Twenty first century **** Sapiens male population continue to applaud, covet, extol, gloat, invoke, kickstart, ****** outrages, quest savagely thee unbridled wedded yoke appropriating coquettishly enshrined gals imposing killing mandates okaying queasy sordid ugly wretchedness yanking aborhent behavior denigrating, fulminating, harrassing, jawdropping lewdness, nabbing prized rearends, twerking, violently whiplashing, yelling zingers.
***************************
Now not a day elapses with instances women claim untoward advances, and/or forced coercion to satiate and temporarily slate the ****** thirst informing prononced picadilloes (philandering if married pompous head honcho demands appeasement of coitus, ******** indecent lowball outrageous ribald uncouth ****** animalistic, carnal, feral, gonadal, immoral, kleptomaniacally misogynistic, narcissistic, opportunistic, pathetically reprehensible, torturously undervaluing, validating virility within Yankee Doodle, haply lambasting, proudly touting, vaunted wayfair zest.
***************************
The above meandering stream of consciousness attempted to amplify, a recent spate of accusations figuratively slapped against a male *** mongers, who specifically rule roost, and blithely, demandingly, forcefully, hideously, impishly, killingly, malignantly, opprobriously, powerfully, repeatedly, terminally, vindictively, wantonly, yearningly acrimoniously belittle, demean flagrantly, harshly insinuate keeping mindful, not publicize rabid ****** unwanted villainous withering zeal!
Nov 21, 2017
Nov 21, 2017 at 7:51 PM UTC
*My New Years Eve predictions and predilections revolve around my Manzanilla olive addiction
Salty fruit soaked in wicked good , cold Beefeaters Gin
Sending tipsy resolutions off into the wind* ...
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 7:44 PM UTC
∆
Against the rules
We
Fought but tirelessly
Harrowing the sanctuaries
That gold our passions
∆
Against the rules
We
Fought arrogantly and carelessly
And wore gallantly pride with fashion
∆
Against the rules
Our
World was a war
And our hearts,a battlefield
Adorned with stardust of endless fantasies
The only sense that we fee led
∆
Against the rules
We
Stood on the edges of our love
With unrestrained actions,a glove
And predilections fold
∆
Against the rules
We
Bruised our love,a thousand times,and many
So pathetic,domiciled in the fouling
It left us penny
∆
Against the rules
We
Kept still in shelves
Gild with paranoia
And wither optimism ourselves
∆
Against the rules
We
Failed our love
Brim fully with the tests
And staunch childishly
Waiting for who to make amends first
∆
Against the rules
I
Carved myself in this cages of poetry
And branded exquisitely with the oratory
That reawaken but to quench
Your rebellious memories in me
∆
Against the rules
We
Hid diamonds in shadows
And fooled our love a place to lay abode
Against the rules
©Historian E.Lexano
™Recalcitration With Excellence
®P°h°D Poetry
Aug 3, 2016
Aug 3, 2016 at 6:33 PM UTC
Silence fell, the waves broke through
A whisper on soft wind
I will find a center in you
Pressure pulse beating rhythm to night time dreaming
I am left with the sobriquet
Always leaving
We are heaving, pulling moves from all directions
A solid stunt with clouds for vision
Unknowing of our fated predilections
The desire for something different, sings wild
Curved and copulate along fine lines
Dreaming bright colors vivid like a child
Urging to pull closer and keep what is within reach
Having no more power over the hours
Than those that the stars keep
Apr 29, 2015
Apr 29, 2015 at 11:25 AM UTC
Transgressions in the bloom of youth
caught on tape, blue video
hidden in the tombs of time
now come to light in my old age
actions meant to flip some cash
when flesh was bared to camera's eye
revealing all in survival's name
now intrudes on a present day.
Yet there I am, in a smudged frame
Father Time has had his way
the newness of the internet
harbors sins of history
just as my body has borne term's brunt
echoes of the college are besmirched
the truth is told through the grain
then baby-faced, I was love's *****
No longer in the store's back room
behind the curtain meant to screen
innocence from the other side
life's desires for ******
when data highways are the path
to the hubs where passions feed
it's no wonder that my feat
may be viewed in modern times.
Now looking back, I wonder how
the choices made will reflect
on how the world considers me
a quarter century past my peak
I've walked away from that place
no longer captured for all to see
though predilections may still creep
I hold them close, now discreet.
© 2017. Sean Green. All Rights Reserved. 20170630.
Jun 30, 2017
Jun 30, 2017 at 10:15 PM UTC
Besotted winged pollinators
roistering barrage drowned
amidst general insectivorous cacophony
indistinct auditory signals communicated
intermingled with bounteous wafting fragrance
midwifed edenic floral pullulation
sensate admixture viz colored spectrum
amidst unrehearsed extemporaneous
orchestral suite bedded lambs
amorous ewe man like bleating songs
nature all aflutter actively socially vociferating
profuse living color rainbow pastiche
teeming soundgarden smorgasbord
cornucopia ignites mordent Utopian aural swath
visual vistas stilling spellbinding
spilling riotous carpeted web
uniting doubting Thomas's existentialism
despite unanswered queries
asper diverse modalities each specie evolved
to survive despite countervailing destructive forces
generating plethora pandemonium ironically
promulgating harmonic exemplary convergence
Highland Manor concourse aflame with new life
parented by instinctive imprimatur anonymous patents
now genetic mapping usurped with untold outcome
analysis bred crispr discovery Earthlings fiddling
glorifies honied indemnity Judeo-Christian kudos
leaves of grass kudzo resistance mutation immunizes
biosphere once prolific differentiation shrinks
becoming monocultural setting virtual stage
catastrophe plus food shortage would become
global debacle predicated, sans virulent
viral and/or bacterial strain renting asunder
tripwire unspooling delicate webbed whirl
already widely compromised more so
since Rachel Carson wrote Silent Spring
**** sapiens population explosion
pits profligate predilections planet Earth in extremis
dire crisis cavalierly dismissed humans
in hot pursuit racking up superfluous wealth
***** deeds done dirt cheap - tricking
mother nature, who will unwittingly
spring scrumptious feeding off scrimmage
forcing capitulation or total extinction
meanwhile fostering long tall floral inflorescence
a composite having sessile flowers
apiary abuzz, cuz queen bee
can no longer wax bereft of royal jelly.
May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 12:35 AM UTC
Oh the freight train is here
Call me dear.
Pass me another beer,
There's a beer man here.
Nothing to fear.
March Madness is sadness
to me,
just like the predilections
are at the ballpark.
Oh waking up to a
train changing tracks.
All the hype.
That's my gripe.
Nothing to fight
or take light.
The madness sadness
changes to gladness
The predilections
change to a hark.
The tracks are a die
that's cast
and everything is reconciled.
Apr 19, 2017
Apr 19, 2017 at 2:31 PM UTC
*the soul
a collection of
thoughts aptitudes weaknesses biases predilections
a jumble of mind
and what of free will
and what of karma
are there not
fates pleasures and furies
yogas of myriad heavens and hells
we find our selves
a short stay in zombie land
are we not the living dead
have we not the freedoms of the living dead
to suffer innumerable casualties of mind and body
short lived pleasures and repugnant destinies
to be inducted into armies of labor and war
no work no eat
the mantra imperative
even rest exists for exertions sake
to fight with our intimates
or if alone to fight with our selves
about our desolation
divided by the chatter of inner confusion
reality distortions
so pervasive
we drink water from mirages
palimpsests voices
dubbed over lays
voices over voices over voices
a cacophony of whispers
our version of free will
driven by the impulse
to get get get
and while we
lose lose lose
are we not
manure for an acid soil
destined for head stone city
all the getters
piled high
and buried deep
are we not dim witted children
of the blind impulse
panicked
reflexive doll mannequins
in a world so muddled
that we only know what we
be LIE ve*
Feb 13, 2017
Feb 13, 2017 at 12:45 PM UTC
Memory: The Reliable & The Unreliable
Echos of a past that roll around
And called to mind from deepest ground
Behind the mind…
Ambiguous or accurate -
Can you trust that what you bring to view
Is true?
Age three to eight…early or late?
What how and when do you recall the then?
When does cementing start? ,
How much and what was taking part?
Did you see it because you must?
How much is there, is there to trust?
We know that those who witness
Accidents and tragedies,
Give testimonies contradictory -
Eyes, brown, no, green,
Height, tall, no teeny,
Fat, round, thin, face.
When and what took place - erased.
Often spoken, joke invoked, the anecdote
Snoringly or boringly jacked up:
Do we know that we repeat?
All the time collecting, re-connecting;
Predilections and renditions
Gathering and bathing; simply put, projecting -
Putting self onto the world -
Of change, of never-stops,
Of dreams, of ‘props’
Which being built to fool are worldly tools.
Memories and memorize.
Words that though alike in size,
Words containing wish and prize,
Faculties essential to our mental health,
The endless wealth of whats and whys.
Final question:
Do you, do you not -
Knowing well that times do rot,
Trust in memory and memories,
Knowing that each one is but
Prioritised interpretation, information?
I do not, but live the knots that days present
Giving each minute to a past.
Memory, The Reliable & The Unreliable 2.5.2021 Nature of & In Reality;Arlene Never Corwin
Feb 5, 2021
Feb 5, 2021 at 5:15 PM UTC
I don't believe
I'm being sane
I spent so many times in vain
And the troubles
Keep gaining ground
No one believes the things I found
Feels like
I made another stain
I'm not sure if
I'm feeling pain
Just following predilections
Always trusting precognitions
I'm not sure what
I mean to say
Feels like so much
Has gone away
Forgot to put salt on my wounds
Of course you know
The things I've found
May 8, 2022
May 8, 2022 at 4:29 PM UTC
"Late Last Night."
Give me your honest answer
Because I'm sick and tired
Of all this useless banter
You lied to me for the last time,
And now I'm investigating
Your shameful war crime.
Worked late last night,
The same old routine
I remember when you skipped your job
For just you and me.
Now I'm backed against the wall
And your shouting out your contradictions
Spinning all your lies
Like a web of back handed predilections
So I'm shutting the door when I leave,
Because you never loved me.
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 11:41 AM UTC
Argentinian teenagers
taking in the cities
Their predilections all
based in fiction
Shocking green masses
Turnstile seminars
Debauchery hidden behind stars
Captured innocence
And they wonder
could this be New York?
The snow came and the snow
melts
The only boy in the group
turns to his prettiest friend
and says
I'd rather end up in hell
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 11:45 PM UTC
Saturday.
He fondles his roses
as little Beth walks by,
holding her mommy’s hand.
When mother and daughter
are up the street a bit,
he palpates petals,
lets thorn press into his crotch.
He is that nice old retired preacher
from the middle of the block.
He babysits Beth while her mommy
goes to the gym.
His predilections are private...
secret...
No one knows.
No one knows but little Beth...
and all the little girls before her.
Not everyone is who they seem
and evil can live forever hidden.
Nov 4, 2018
Nov 4, 2018 at 6:40 PM UTC
my brain is a shooting range
where synapses and neurons
fire downrange
resulting in all these tear-soaked pages
where i chronicle
in great detail
the pain of my human condition
maybe that's angsty and over dramatic
i feel like that's one of my bad habits
but i try not to lie
(especially to myself)
and i don't want to glamorize
(that's good for no one's mental health)
so i slit the wrists of my emotions
and bleed out words and thoughts and notions
in the desperate hope that maybe
- just maybe -
someone out there who reads this will understand me
because my experiences are mine and mine alone
but that doesn't mean no one else has ever known
the way i feel and my innermost thoughts
and maybe even captured those feelings in snapshots
in the same way that i go about
putting pen to paper to chronicle this fallout
and there is something so magical about those connections
and knowing you're not alone, even in endless dimensions
so thank you, my darling, my friend,
for sharing your soul with me
and showing me how to truly live free
of the fetters and chains of societal expectations
so i can strive to be my best self and shrug off their predilections
Sep 21, 2017
Sep 21, 2017 at 9:08 AM UTC