"predominant" poems
Whenever and wherever there is a decline in religious practice, O descendant of Bharata, and a predominant rise of irreligion--at that time I descend Myself. In order to deliver the pious and to annihilate the miscreants, as well as to reestablish the principles of religion, I advent Myself millennium after millennium.
Oct 14, 2016
Oct 14, 2016 at 3:14 AM UTC
You ease up unknowingly
while unaware I would be
offended by the careless
behavior prompted by the
urgency that has built up
from the condition while
pent up under the roof
of a haughty, predominant,
governess who wears a
grey locket about the neck
which contains a clean
substance never to be
touched by boyish hands.
I watch the wild in your
eyes brought on by
rigid over socialization
ingrained by a poorly
populated, secluded,
pseudo coalition.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 12:28 AM UTC
Those envied places which do know her well,
And are so scornful of this lonely place,
Even now for once are emptied of her grace:
Nowhere but here she is: and while Love’s spell
From his predominant presence doth compel
All alien hours, an outworn populace,
The hours of Love fill full the echoing space
With sweet confederate music favourable.
Now many memories make solicitous
The delicate love-lines of her mouth, till, lit
With quivering fire, the words take wing from it;
As here between our kisses we sit thus
Speaking of things remembered, and so sit
Speechless while things forgotten call to us.
3.2k
In my world there is a gem...
On which there are two
predominant facets.
It has never been just me,
or just you...
It is us...
Marooned on a little cast off islet.
If I could take just one sip
from the fount of transitory courage,
I'd take the leap
into waters deep.
So I could pave the route
for our safe passage.
To freedom and love...
Without restrictions or restraint.
If only we could...
We'd harness from the infinite palette above
and with it,
boundless magic
we would paint.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
I read my body like a road map
My ******* become mountains
My hips are flowing bodies of water
Here's to the not-so-lean lines
That tell me where the highways are
The railroad is the predominant form of transportation
In the quaint little town I depict on my skin
Train tracks cover inch by inch of me
From wrist to chest to thigh
Smothered in scars
That tell you where I've been
And where I hope to move away from.
Every good map has a starting point
For me, that was ****** abuse
Was verbal aggression
Was gas lighting
Then the extra distance in the middle
Was suicidal thoughts
Was bulimia
Was starting therapy
Was never being good enough for anyone
I'm not quite to where I want to be yet
But I'm progressing to the city of
I am good enough for me
Now I worship these train tracks
No more fresh blood
But I can kiss the scars
I find myself in love with my existence
Rather than ashamed of my past
I will handle my map like ancient scrolls
Like a golden altar
Not settling for any silly lover
Who does not exalt this sacred land, this body
And to love where I am going,
You must honor each and every place
I have been.
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 11:49 PM UTC
In their perceived cleverness
Women ultimately ruin everything great in this world.
They claim that men are responsible for the ills of this world,
When in fact, women are the root of all turmoil on this earth.
In their perceived cleverness, they assume men are too stupid
To read the writing on the wall,
When most men are all too aware
Of the miniscule amount of regard, they have for us.
Were it not for the necessity of the womb,
For the propagation of the species,
the wholesale slaughter of these petty creatures
Would solve the majority of problems
Plagueing this earth.
The vast majority of negative technological advances
Stem from the female need to make things more convenient for themselves,
While men, bear the predominant portion of the burden
Of maintaining civilization,
Dying by the thousands at war,
breaking their backs in harsh labor,
and never receiving due respect from women.
Its no wonder misogynist ideals are spreading.
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 12:18 PM UTC
this group reminds me of you and only you.
i usually listen to it in the wee hours of the night
when my heart break is so predominant, your voice rings in my ears.
i use the music to drown you out
but instead of washing my senses clean,
it enhances your presence in my head.
i talked to you for the first time in a while today and it was alright.
then when i didn't receive your message,
you had invited me to hang out.
I’m out of town and i miss you and i want you.
even if you don’t give a **** about me,
that's okay.
as long as you pretend to love me, that's enough.
that's awful but that's how it is.
i only want you,
in any form that you present yourself to me.
Dec 15, 2014
Dec 15, 2014 at 11:25 PM UTC
To whoever thinks that life is a disgrace
Full of failure and unending anguish
With no thought of ever surpassing depression
Here is a beacon of hope
Life is akin to a wave
Its got crests and troughs
Never straight it is
But only one thing is for sure
There is always a way out of every challenge
That comes our way
Whilst we put God first in everything before us.
Only then we shall have our eyes wide open
About the resolution to failure
Failure like success
Is part of our lives
And never can we eliminate it
But we can overcome it
And have it vanquished
Waiting to take on the next big challenge
Persistence, perseverance and above all positive mental attitude can render failure hapless in our faces.
Consequently you'll realize
That only three little words can make a difference in our lives
They will help you cement your post
In the realm of excellence
These words are, "Never give up"
Don't you ever despair in this life
And all shall be well with you
And like in psalms 93,
"You'll crush mountains under your foot"
Embrace the life
That the most predominant Lord beyond compare breathed into you
Be grateful for thy life
With a smile every passing day
For its no mishap
It's life with a purpose
And EXCELLENCE is the reason for life.
Jun 22, 2015
Jun 22, 2015 at 8:11 PM UTC
Let’s Make it Real
What if the left
got along with the right?
And the right respected the left?
Imagine if the world were our hands,
to cut off one would make
the life of the other one seem almost
unbearable. They’re used interchangeably,
even when we have a predominant
one. I want to envision
a less polarized world,
a world we love and respect one another,
a world that is kind, that is
understanding and tolerant
of differences. What if we lived
in a place where there was peace,
no fighting or protesting
in the streets? What if we were
as our hands? Open to the idea?
We can make it happen.
Let’s make it real.
Oct 27, 2018
Oct 27, 2018 at 8:10 AM UTC
The constant anguish that I feel
tears my heart to shreds,
unworthy words to articulate the pain lodged in my throat
It leaves me aching, speechless,
I can't breathe.
unable to share my pain,
as predominant fears arise
I wonder about the gossips, castoffs,
Judgment at being the victim I am
Yet not able to get justice for me,
my fear has left me speechless.
What a mess my life had slowly become,
tied down by fear; it's become my shadow!
the anger slowly breaking me,
the pain driving me insane,
I perceive I'm irreparable
An irony my life had become!
Shreds of what I'd dreamed of as a girl,
never imagined being in the law's dent
Yet I stand, hands clasped
as the verdict is given,
There's no relief!
I fear I won't get the justice I deserve.
For the justice that's been served,
for the molested victim, it's not enough
ten scores too little, yet a score was given,
So relishing the pain, I choose forgiveness
Perverting the anger, I choose to forget.
I admit it's my way out.
So shredding all atoms of fear and shame,
ignoring most rude whispers,
I finally feel the far fetched freedom,
Justice has been served,
Served in Forgiveness.
Mar 5, 2019
Mar 5, 2019 at 5:19 AM UTC
i can't exist
yet here i sit
pondering and wondrous
drums pound and clang
my heart the same
perceptible, still undertrained
i cannot lie
but always try
plunging over, horrified
so here no more
and there not for
pejorative excelsior
I've written less
to curb excess
predominant post-modernists
Oct 12, 2016
Oct 12, 2016 at 2:30 PM UTC
Even as a child
my happyness
has been wired with fear.
When I laughed too hard at day
I had nightmares at night.
Is that the way we are taught to be?
When the day is bright
one should keep an eye opened for
the dark night yet to come.
And only speak of whishes
in murmur and undertone.
-A tradition passed on from father to son-
and even more subtly from a mother
to the woman that little girls is yet to become.
Are we afraid to be too happy?
Am I scared to breathe in full lungs?
I am quite sure fear is my predominant gene
and happyness is so illusive and intangible
that sometimes I doubit its even real
- but I want to scream out loud for once:
I am scared but I am thrilled to be here.
K.E
Feb 20, 2016
Feb 20, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
this narrative has had its wear and tear
down to the last page that slips effortlessly off the book
pulling back strings to fit the ending
live action marionette
indulging in countless ways to flee
how could I ever?
eyes like a hawk vigourously watching over me
planning to escape is mind altering
hearts injecting blood a million miles per second
hold my breath as the goosebumps trickle under my spine
fingers twitching with rage
it's time to break out of this cage
sweat seeps off my face
leaving a line of dirt
momentarily, battle scars
I knew this day would come
just sooner than expected
but what did I expect?
existing, just barely
imprisoned in this jest of reality
caught between the societies realm of a fantasy
or breaking the barriers and taking a leap
numerous routes that divide into alternating states
yet the predominant remains
intimidation haunts me
crowding my thoughts
I always thought hell existed deep in my mentality
these dark memories combating to come to the surface
until one day I blinked and realized
hell is neighboring me
hell is leisures from the past that overstays their welcome
hell is energy deteriorating in souls you've attached to
hell is being starved of communication
hell is the strings penetrating your every move
hell is receiving no feedback from the energy you put out
hell is taking your last breath every day just to wake up to the same old ********
hell is repeating "go f### yourself", and its never going to stop
left for dead
in dire need of an escape
this is me sending a signal
sos, ... save me
planning this scheme for too long takes a toll on my soul
confusing reality with a dream
is this authentic or a figment of my imagination
am I hallucinating?
waited ages for an escape
overwhelmed over things I have no command over
will this justify the end?
and leave no cliffhangers to deal with repercussions
that is my chaotic life
an arrogant scenario to arise from
Jun 17, 2019
Jun 17, 2019 at 7:45 PM UTC
It's all psychological,
the system is the sum of all the illogical
factors that make the parts
of the people that have lost their hearts
in the process.
Nauseous nonsense.
Not cautious!
Weak to the will of the head of the snake,
it's predominant.
The word of the serpent has become prominent.
LOST
to the fight of a god made real.
The words don't deserve to see our knees kneel.
It's ridiculous.
This is society in general.
All it is, is just mental peril.
In this place we call home,
we never lived free,
we reside under the dome.
-n.s.
Oct 6, 2014
Oct 6, 2014 at 1:32 PM UTC
Heat
Electricity and emotions
Unconscious and subconscious
Predominant and primarily dominant
Dilated
Hands like claws with fists full of skin and sheet and shirt
Unable to discern
Just feel
Waves
Rocking into the shore with passion and power
No mind to silent sediment
Relentless currents pulling everything
Waves tumble head over heels but never stop
Lightning strikes
But then fades away again
Fleeting
Never constant but dangerous and beautiful
No names, just feelings, no emotions, just feelings and flesh
Red snow
Reflection? Or animosity
Animalistic atrocity
Boom
Like lightning but prettier
Stay after to admire
Sink in and do it again every year
Write about it think about it
Sing
Raise hearts to god in sinful praise
With handfuls of lover's grace
Remind me of the days when I didn't regret the moves I make
Fill me up so I can forget
For a while
Cosmic
Electrick
Charged with emotion
Direction unknown so let it go
Give it to someone else
The faceless nameless midnight confidants
Express yourself
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 3:02 PM UTC
1
in January
I met Jane
in February
it was all love
flying Cupids
and St Valentine’s
in March
we marched down the aisle
I slipped the ring in her finger
and she let me slip into her that night
in April
I came home early and saw her kissing some guy
and when I coughed
they both laughed at me and said:
Happy April Fool’s Day!
A belated one, though;
still - I just laughed,
always love surprises
and a good sport I’d always been
I don’t remember what we did
In May -
but the predominant emotion is one of dismay
June saw us
make love
under the moon
and at noon
in July
she made full use of her vocal cords
and reached her peak of pitch:
*Oh God! - you’re just like any guy!
You’ve turned the house into a sty!*
August I decided to be a little dignified;
and in September we were like King and Queen
with diamond crown and scented scepter each
2
in October she crashed our new
shiny, costly SUV Rover
and I just found it difficult to stay sober
November
is a month to remember, to remember
well it’s something private between me and Jane
it’s something to do with a member, a member
November - Oh baby,
it’s something to remember, remember...
December came and - was it the heat
or the cold? -
by the end we were dismembered, dismembered:
I’m alone again
and this time maybe
in scented January
in fresh January I’ll find May
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 5:40 AM UTC
Interesting that we older men now flag our own decline
Composted in this shameful ruse enacted over time.
We point to prime examples of our keynote men of age
De Niro, Keitel, Clooney, Hurt…all class acts, on the stage.
Take Clarkson, Rush, O’Toole and Bean…they brim like vintage wine,
Having come to terms with baldness and the sagging paunch decline.
Like them, we’ve learned the lesson of absurdity of life,
Where the trick to aged contentedness, is to pacify the wife.
An awareness of fragility in that pending death is near,
Is offset by the peace of mind of subdued *** and beer.
We say, to Hell with gradual fade of hairline, health and wealth
When a crystal glass of single malt can smooth it all by stealth.
So quell the racing, thudding heart, lean back in wisdom’s shine,
Secure in that with shaky hand…We can still quaff vintage wine.
And should the youth lose patience with a hesitancy there
We can usually still their arrogance with a knowing senior stare,
And should there be a question of a competency still?
Remind them their tomorrow too.. is running fast downhill.
Don’t sweat it with the walker, for it all arrives too soon
And sweetly on the wireless there was Perry Como’s croon,
Take comfort in the fact that soon they’ll put us out to grass
When oblivion comes creeping in Altzheimers foggy clasp.
To tabulate the good and bad within this lifetime’s span
Leaves the negatives predominant, should truth reveal her hand,
It becomes a bit obsessive when the mind’s allowed to dwell
For around the corner, probably, …. is a one way trip to Hell.
M.
Pukehana Paradise
Auckland NZ
May 7 2014
May 6, 2014
May 6, 2014 at 3:41 PM UTC
"No matter where you live you should be able to turn on the tap and drink safe water" - David Boyd
Every day I grow
The importance of the preservation of our enviroment becomes more and more predominant.
To grow up drinking from discovered gurgling creeks,
To feel the cool purity revitalize my young soul,
To bask in the clean beauty of our waters,
I took for granted its safety.
To grow up with the river as my guide, my mentor, my reflector for my inner growth
I learned to listen to the way it laughed and danced
And polished unassuming river stones as it told me of past stories
and taught me humility.
All this time
I took for granted its safety.
It is only now
As my cacoon of security begins to crack
do I realize
This is not every humans relationship to our waters.
Only now do I realize I am blessed to be able to drink from discovered streams, let alone my tap without a second thought
Only now do I realize
Millions of parched souls
have grown with water as an enemy
Wary of the pollutants it carries.
It is treated with caution
Whereas it was once revered.
Water, as a definition is "the basis of the fluids of living organisms"
We are essentially poisening ourselves as well as our earth
with our actions.
It is time to shift as a country, as a nation
To protect our enviroment
to protect our waters
and to protect humanity its self
The right to a healthy enviroment
Is the right to live.
Jan 5, 2016
Jan 5, 2016 at 12:29 AM UTC
Born May 5, 1818, in Trier Germany
to Heinrich and Henrietta Marx,
sans the third of nine children
(and second oldest heir)
Karl Marx thinking begot incendiary sparks,
asper his two most controversial publications
titled The Communist Manifesto,
and Das Kapital
which political philosophy
incubating seeds of self destruction didst birth
doctrines of class struggle,
historical materialism, dearth
of equitable wealth, and inherent
contradictions of industrial capital
distributed unevenly
across avast swath of Earth
thus inviting his perspective
(conveniently exploited,
mined, and usurped) advocating
the working class (proletariat)
to expedite organized revolutionary action
to topple capitalism and bring about
socio-economic emancipation,
where wages of sin exchanged for labor bled
fingers to the bone life source, viz proletariat
till slaving laborer nearly became gratefully dead
despite being cased in 12 point
Times New Roman garb, who incessantly fed
insatiably maws of production,
(no way to get a supportive talking head)
particularly highlighted
within schema of Capitalism),
a predominant paradigm
stratifying society led
to internal tensions engendered
between bourgeoisie red
dilly controlling means
of production codified as said
as die a critical approach Marx coined
as historical materialism,
where figurative landmines forced one to tread
gingerly, thus above stated philosophy
would supposedly lead down the road
where self destruction wrought marriage
birthing Socialism offspring from shot gun wed
ding, thus coaxing eventual establishment
of classless communist society meant
to establish free association of producers who spent
exchanging merchandise amidst classless
campy population hood pitched a tent.
May 10, 2018
May 10, 2018 at 8:55 PM UTC
It's all in The
Formula, boy, and
I have perfected
the formula.
It has worked on
women from
seventeen to seventy.
It even works
when you are older
with grey hair,
a (small) gut
and no money.
Start with the smile,
(still boyish),
self-deprecating
and selfless.
The look of a victim
that says I've
been hurt many times,
but for you
I'll risk it again.
Listen engrossed to
their every mortal word
with the intensity
of a fortune teller
and gaze deeply
into their private eyes
to see what is
really there.
Make them feel they are
the sun you circle around.
But mostly it's about
the poetry.
You write
them a poem and
they melt like sugar
in a microwave.
'You wrote that for me?'
(Soulfully)
'Every woman is a poem
waiting to be written.
All I did was write you down.'
Offer them your
heart as a hostage.
Bingo!
Make love slowly,
their pleasure predominant,
and gently open them like
petals on a fresh flower.
Then, in bed, read them
a few lines from Neruda
or Lorca.
All cakes need icing.
Say a few wistful things
about war and
'back in the day.'
Few women can resist
a wounded warrior or
the Magick of nostalgia.
But what you must
absolutely remember,
boy, is that this is
not some scam.
Even if it's only
for a moment or a week,
you have to really
mean it all.
That is the
secret ingredient.
Make them feel special;
own their hearts.
It took a lifetime
to discover this recipe.
Use it well and
often and
you will decrease
the loneliness in
the world, if only
for a while.
That is true Magick.
And no one ever
hates you for
making them happy.
Women come and go,
but The Formula
is eternal.
Good luck, kid.
You won't need it.
~mce
Oct 28, 2015
Oct 28, 2015 at 7:21 AM UTC
In the cold dreary, wet,
months of each year the
predominant irritating
"Craw-craw" raucous
calls of crows are nearly
the only bird voices to be
heard. The instigators,
Provocateurs of disruption.
The logical, less hardy
and beautiful birds all
gone south for the winter,
taking their inoffensive
lovely and melodic song
voices with them.
I eagerly await their return.
Mar 7, 2022
Mar 7, 2022 at 7:15 PM UTC
Let me lie on the bed-rock
And cradle all my toys
I don't wanna cross any boundaries
Of stout little boys.
Let me hold on to the darkness
push away the growing light
So don't tell me where, when you
Go left I will go right.
The past few days have been like
a storm inside my blood.
Bringing me up, taking me down
lemme write my heart out.
{chorus}
Weeks without a sight
I wanna know if you're all right
My mind cannot stop wandering
The empty halls of asking
The squirming's very stone wrecked
Oh the past, Deer, what the heck
Dunno why I am this; such a mystery
Is it so difficult to smilingly accept me?
It's a sunny bright afternoon
In a luscious forest of fear
Where rabbits why away
the Moment I draw near
{chorus}
I've run phones with no dialtone
and answered voices of No One
to have heard my neighbors cahtting
to the point their phone bills getting cut.
Oh days where have you gone
when you would have something doing
To keep my eyes off the sun, my ears to the moon
While my body rests in the state called Gloom
where paper is apparently predominant
and the letters I speak are air.
The effort that is cement
is a brittle bendy straw.
So come on, come all
Don't fear Speaking of the Truth
I have readily listened
since the Day began.
I fear this dark bottomless pit
that is split inter-twiningly.
How many a day has it been
since any Sound were heard?
I've fallen on my knees
and blood has spilled
and confusion has run 'round
uncertainty and whatnot but
feeling has never killed.
Jun 29, 2014
Jun 29, 2014 at 11:45 PM UTC
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,
paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable, perspicuous,
pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic
picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,
praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,
privately privileged, prized, proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominant, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative, prudent psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful.
May 28, 2018
May 28, 2018 at 1:07 AM UTC
Those moments that are long gone,
Some of it happier, some full of mourn
Deep in my heart, I know you won’t come
Yet all of me yearn for your return.
It wouldn’t have mattered, if the rest of the world was gone.
Yet the ones in heaven choose you over each and everyone
Are those Gods lonelier than us humans?
I wonder if you’ve finally found what you looked for all along
Hopefully a new beginning, without any reminiscences of days’ bygone
Cruel it would be, if you could still remember us all.
Time flees never to return.
Present’s an embargo, future’s uncertain
How did the past leave so soon, so fast?
Now all I’ve is memories, not sure till when they gonna last.
Gone must be the saddest word in any tongue.
Or is it grief that’s predominant?
Isn’t it so peculiar that one can’t die of grief, though it feels as if you can.
They say time dims the pain of it.
I would never let anyone take away this grief though
Won’t do so even if I knew how.
How can I be consoled?
The love doesn’t go away.
Your absence is like the sky, spread over everything.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 3:15 PM UTC