"proctor" poems
What moral magistrate
Monster of mediocrity
Makes a model citizen of me
Even if I don’t want to be
All upright and uptight
Humorless jackboot
Goose stepping toadstool
The fascist conservative fool
Who pedals misinformation
Counting on fear and stupidity
To turn strangers into tools
Yep that one eyed sheep
In the blind herd
Who wants to tell me
What I should or shouldn’t do
Why bother
With that proctor
Of indignity
Who counsels
The talented
To remain dormant
In their humility
Doctor of docility
Prescribing conformity
Storming the cities
Bleeding us of our individuality
To make more metal cogs
For the culture machine
May 23, 2015
May 23, 2015 at 6:21 PM UTC
*kiss the kids good bye,
send them out on
their own find-a-way paths,
merry or otherwise,
dispatched, once and forever,
stamped, franked, posted,
Gebbie delivered,^
the poems born, borne*
are gone
*never look back,
once writ and gifted,
they are an only child,
not truly orphaned*
but without parentage
*miss'ed every now and then,
see them as a drive-by victims,
hit and run casualties of passing poets,
who notifiy that they saw
"so and so"
and just wanted to
let me know,*
they're ok
*but never look back,
they have been disowned,
each,
a natural birth poem,
must learn
the hard way,
to stand on its own,
tested by the cruelest proctor,*
hoary time
*this is the way,
the only way,
birth mother and no more,
and this why,
some know me as,
the poet of the way...
*this is my way -
my poems are my
dispatched issue,
sent out themselves alone,
to experience
cell division,
mitosis and meiosis
spawning new poetic tissue,
find their own way of sharing*
their ancestral DNA
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 10:57 PM UTC
ELIZABETH: John, it come to naught that I
should forgive you, if you'll not forgive yourself.
**We struggle as did John
to find an identity
that is not shrouded:
a most persistent persuasion
of our separation..**
ELIZABETH: There be no higher judge under
Heaven than Proctor is! Forgive me, forgive me
John--I never knew such goodness in the world!
PROCTOR: God in Heaven, what is John Proctor,
what is John Proctor?
**Our self inquiry comes:
Who am I..?
What am I..?
I am..?**
PROCTOR: You will not use me!
I am John Proctor!
You have made your magic now,
for now I do think I see some shred
of goodness in John Proctor.
**His discovery appeared
on his horizon
as does our own:
Freedom!
Identity!
Peace!
I am...**
Jun 10, 2016
Jun 10, 2016 at 11:03 PM UTC
We are the fingers of fog
That grasp the hilltop and
Pull the fog eyes up to see
If the sleeping valley below
Needs a blanket.
We are the mist that clings to her stream
Long after other mists have
Retreated to safety.
The mist that forsakes herself,
We are the October late-day light
That deepens the blue
And livens the green
And crowns Crimson
Your fleeting, quick-fading queen.
To distract you from thoughts
Of the cold colorlessness to come.
We are the grainy gray shadows at dusk
That camouflage the vulnerable
And vex the predator
So that the small
May scurry homeward.
We are the soft illusion
Of a bright twinkling cloud glimpse
Of the shy Milky Way
That pulls down the astral children’s shade
And hides the rage of the stars,
Indulging snug earthbound mortals
To dream their snug earthbound dreams
Under the proctor of Venus and Mars.
We are the saving grace
Between you and reality,
The light hand
Upon your shoulder
That keeps you from
Going over the edge.
Nov 5, 2018
Nov 5, 2018 at 5:37 AM UTC
Remember our high school finals-
the proctors, attentive, alert.
They roamed the aisles like policemen;
on the lookout for cheaters and flirts.
I was an enigma to them;
in some classes, first honors, hands down.
In others I ranked near the bottom;
acting, you’d say, the class clown.
I mention those long ago days
as I’m facing a final of sorts.
I’ve taken the medical tests-
Now I wait in my robe and my shorts.
This new proctor gives me the creeps
with his scythe and his hooded black gown,
but he’s sure to command my attention
when he tells me to put my pen down
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 9:59 AM UTC
Pain pouring out
On our hearts.
Persons shot down ten by ten.
Nothing but tears raining on our heads and guns.
It's not just a heaviness we feel,
It's THE heaviness.
I can't feel my heart.
It makes sense..There's nothing but a hole where my heart should be.
I cry and cry my sorrow for you..
But no tears of sadness come out.
You feel a heaviness.
I feel THE heaviness.
Nothing in the world shall be normal.
"Because it is my name, I cannot live without my name," said John Proctor.
Whatever happened to the name of his heart?
Tears,tears, and rain.
Tears, tears, rain, and storms.
All help us feel THE heaviness.
Dec 15, 2010
Dec 15, 2010 at 4:55 PM UTC
I'm a docder, pretty wizard, how d'ya like that?
I prescribe drugs, you just wear a pointy hat!
I ain't no Dr. Phil BS or Dr. Dre crap,
While you're busy casting spells, I'm savin' some poor old chap
Against me, you wouldn't stand a chance
I'm smarterer than you, and you just have a fancy stance
I'm a real life livin' docder
And you need me as a proctor
Just to drink some vodkar
And by now I bet you're wonderin' what ya just got in yer
Ya can't even rhyme
So why should I waste a single bit of my time
Fightin' with ma docder powers which are all so sublime
And here's a little gift
Before I shift
Back ta destroyin' all ya lyin'
Without even tryin'
It's a free little lesson
Better count it as a blessin'
Crap, wizard, that, warcraft and path
Don't rhyme, just do the math
And also by the way, you misspelled "WRATH!!!!!"
I can wear whatever I want, from my boots up to my hat
So, my little wizard, what d'ya think of that?
I can use anything, from a .50 cal to a bat
You just get a stick, and a stupid purple hat
I can eat 416 billion grams of fat
And cuz I'm a docder, I'd burn it off in nothin' flat
By just using a little brainpower to focus
All of my smartererness, against your hocus pocus
You could never mess with me
Or either docder buddy,
Jedingaling and Murly
You'd leave so freakin early
If we started a beef
So just can it, and save yourself the grief
Against Walsh, you would flee
And as of now, he hasn't even got his docder PhD!
Unlike me!
Yeah, try every fancy trick
And poke me with a stick
A docder can take any pain,
From a puny little stick to a saw with a chain!
And then the docder'd turn around and use an attack
And your whole puny world would fade into black
You are done
I have just won
CUZ I'M A DOCDER, SON!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Jul 23, 2014
Jul 23, 2014 at 7:22 AM UTC
a gangly man
wearing thick rimmed glasses
that made his eyes seem
like those of a fish
wearily looking out
upon a world he cannot understand
read from crumpled piece of paper
the name of the next
person that had signed up
to take the stage
“Mr…
Youling?
is there,
a Mr.
Youling,
in the house?”
nobody answered
heads turned
looking to see if they could find him
but nobody knew who he was
and everybody knew he wasn’t
going
“ummm…
ok.”
the gangly man
said
“next up we have
David Proctor.
Please,
welcome him.”
David Proctor
got up
within moments
guitar in hand,
lyrics in head,
he played for us
some song about a girl
or his father or
something like
that
but in the second song
a man walked through the door
looking no different,
acting no different,
than any other
but he moved upon the stage
swift,
calm,
controlled
David Proctor
didn’t know what to do
the man
who had just waltzed in
went up to the microphone
and said
“ladies,
gentlemen,
how’re you
tonight?”
“My name is John,
what’s yours?
or are you afraid
of old Mr. Youling?
even if that’s not
my
name.”
“I said
good evening
ladies and
gentlemen!
good evening
and hello
to
you!”
“My name is John!
My name is John!
My name is John!
when are you going
to tell me
YOUR
name?”
I rose then
I don’t know why
I don’t how
but I did
my name is Caleb
I said
“Good good,
Caleb,
way to
be
bold!
Way to stand
up
in more ways
then
one!”
but I sat down then
remembering what I was
doing,
what was
happening.
John just stood there
“So tonight,
I’m going
to
read a
poem!
A poem,
people,
a poem!
Get excited!
Be amazed!
Don’t be so
pissy!”
“and the name of the poem
is
this”
“hello
hello
hello
the noise
of my voice
goes out
but not in!
hello
you people
old,
new,
and
forgetful
people
I say hello to you
but you never
say hello
back!
this
world is coming
to a stand-
still
because of
people
like
YOU
YOU
people
too afraid to appreciate,
to acknowledge,
to love,
to fear,
to say hello,
to say goodbye
to say that you’ve failed
to say that I’ve failed
failed to entertain
to amuse
to make you laugh
to make you think
but here’s the thing
YOU
I know I haven’t done
any
of
THAT
there YOU
are
sitting silently
glaring at me from behind
your
drinks
but
even as you hate me
you love me
for saying the things
you don’t even realize
you want to scream to the
hills
hello
hello
hello
people
YOU
people
who sit
there thinking about me
even as you try not
to
goodnight
goodnight
goodnight
YOU
I’ll see you
again
forever.”
but as he left
he stuck his head back in
and said,
like a punctuation mark,
“enjoy Mr. Proctor.”
and then I knew
he was gone
gone like an exhaled breath
and from that moment on
we could never breath quite
as easy
Oct 1, 2010
Oct 1, 2010 at 1:26 PM UTC
On Proctor’s ledge I made my bed
Following the ****** scores
Through grey fog, thick as cold death.
Screaming gallows want my head...
To dance across their blood stained floors.
This opaque sky is my one true friend
Oh the exquisite view it does afford!
Peering down those rotten trap doors.
Puritan villagers spew hate
Lighting my ***** feet
As this frayed rope keeps me safe.
Smooth grey rocks hidden away...
By broken sticks and amber leaves.
I left them on the ground where they lay
Just to preserve this caliginous scene!
Eighteen others shall soon agree.
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 9:31 PM UTC
Old lady who smiled at me
Through the resturant window
On proctor street. You ruined
Everything when you
Turned your head and
Noticed I had a camera.
Thats when you made a pose.
I apreciate the humor.
But please dont do it again.
You destroyed a great portrait.
Take care ill drop off the print
In a couple of weeks.
If you dont work ill assume
You are a well known regular
And do the same anyways.
Dont take offense I needed
To be quicker with my camera.
Ba by.
Mar 4, 2014
Mar 4, 2014 at 1:37 AM UTC
Tears stream down my face
As I watch the evening news
My eyes see each horrible case
And I follow the camera crews
A bomb exploding in Boston
A boy killed by police
Then fluff about a dolphin.
All this needs to cease.
Another man killed on the streets
Genocide in other lands
People sleeping without sheets
Shivering from toes to hands
People rioting in the dark
Looting shops and homes
Humanity has left its mark
All that will be left are Bones
Future generations will look back at ours
After we are dead and gone
We have created our own jail bars
They might never see the dawn
This world is so messed up
I think we need a proctor
We are all like Angry Pups
What we really need is a Doctor.
Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 7:06 PM UTC
Caught myself in a cart wheeled stance, gazing fondly at a soiled sky
A homeless man calmly rants, preaching to every passerby
Follicles dry up, flaking off bits of skin
Wayward into a cup, stuck in teeth, accompanying the grin
Inferences read by a measly pauper, picked up after a quick popper
The fuel fed, deemed improper, drained from the canyon by a local proctor
Repeated references to a world of old
Stored on dust filled shelves until sold
Spoke too much fancy for one to understand, blindly making it hard to comprehend
Lack of knowledge for the reprimand, timely practices seem to suspend
Going to try and be still, maybe close my eyes
Sleep on the lull of a hill, quick to rise
Told of Grimm lit tales of horror and abuse, held in spectrums casting light
Reordered for disorderly misuse, clouded by traces of spite
The jabberwocky speaks before the crowd, shrouded in the misconception of a dreamed up word. Hastened into speaking loud, the message soon becomes absurd
Words are falling out in a cyclical lexicon, adjusting themes to fit complacent lives
Illiterate Satanists sit in their hexagon, purging everything that thrives
A final thought implies just that, I have more faith in this thieving rat
Nov 9, 2014
Nov 9, 2014 at 6:47 PM UTC
My lyrics are malicious drive you ballistic like holistic priest thinking something vicious My flow is viscous moving down the beat like a runny nose the flows sick call a doctor I'll examine your lines like a proctor or a projector I'm the protector of the legit hip-hop style I profile like Ric Flair no care while you stare at this skinny black kid with the name brand flows I eat generic emcees for breakfast while my pen explodes is it so or no let it go like frozen ice cold like frozone while I Make the Mic moan and bust on stage with my lyrical *** while on the decks the wax spins sealing your doom like Indiana Jones in the temple for you theirs no room
Nov 30, 2014
Nov 30, 2014 at 7:28 PM UTC
—After Sum 41
Through your social distortion of extortion at the
most absurd proportions, I realize I need a doctor
not a proctor for when I test the helicopter you said
you’d never offer to a lowly pauper. You could say it’s my
bad I even tried that so now I cry-laugh in the lilacs while my mom
throws bombs through satcoms to lighten the weather. I should’ve
known better and left the head sever nether that continuously had
me tethered to the emotionally unfettered. I really need to find an
honest man before I enforce a plan of a 1000th trimester abortion.
bortion
bortion
bortion
bortion
bortion
bortion
bortion
bortion
bortion
bortion
bortion
After all the fat lips you gave me I
realized I’m a matchstick baby and don’t
need your rabies to save me. I don’t think I want
to live in your lair with your despair share stares turning to
a bitter taste once I start to face the human waste
falling on my head when I fall in your bed instead of my
king sized comforter singing trumpeter of a simple time—
childhood confined, morality defined by design until I become
the demons as you free them for freedom until they’re just another
lover to call my brother. The hits to my lips caused a casualty
of me casually even though I was never alive actually. Of
all the fists fighting me, it’s you I’d like to remove from society.
Feb 17, 2020
Feb 17, 2020 at 4:25 PM UTC
No chicken paprika
No white wine with oysters
No paris!
I was in America buying Chinese food.
You were shopping for dynamite.
May 15, 2015
May 15, 2015 at 1:24 AM UTC
In my back yard are growing things
and tubs of this and that.
I lean out of the window
and watch the sun go down
on my back yard.
The bats come flying from the pines.
In circles, round and round,
they skirt the trees
and make their squeaky sound,
the bats in my back yard.
Just listen to that last, sweet chirp
of blackbirds fluting song,
as sleepy birds now roost
in my backyard.
I listen for a long, long time
And watch the sun go down,
peaceful and tranquil
in my back yard.
Loretta Proctor
Feb 10, 2018
Feb 10, 2018 at 7:01 AM UTC
6:53 a.m
and the sky is smeared in red
Sailors take warning
A heavy drop of rain on my skullcap
then another and another
I stand with pewter cup in hand
Full of rain water and instant coffee
6:54 am
Apr 22, 2016
Apr 22, 2016 at 7:08 AM UTC
a dogma
that inter-
nuncio drew
sultry where
gotham despite
arms was
proctor of
circle that
could emboss
pathos in
guise of
rouge that
flew in
grace still
an alkaloid
with quantum
effect beyond
Nov 20, 2017
Nov 20, 2017 at 1:30 AM UTC
A perfect expedient for a lonely boy
Mind full of ice and the thoughts to enjoy
Sleepwalk for days alone in this head
No speech exchange with the shadows instead
Compensated fulfillment of destructions company
Ensnaring a sensation devoid of sincerity
Like a method acting on itself unknowingly
Day long trips to the convenience proctor
Second spent hours at the Ill head doctor
Conversing with stutter as if I'm a linguist
A joke in a riddle or a bow on a cyst
Apparent to the cast that I've kissed her lips
Synthetic light pouring upon this reality eclipse
Stimulating my paranoia like a gnarled ***** to vice grips
Re-establishing a tie with the numbing agent
Has been as therapy is when happiness is absent
What a dream to hold in such boundless admiration
To be witty and bold within my own creation
Yet so wonderfully mundane from my peers perspective
I may stray back to this gaze so seductive
A date this alluring just might be productive
Dec 10, 2017
Dec 10, 2017 at 5:07 AM UTC
Maybe I have a sandpaper soul
Scratching pieces of you into dust
All while wishing you’d stay rough
And also the perfect smooth
You’ve already found your groove
For one who don’t want to know
There’s nothing to prove
I coulda been better
I coulda been best
But the proctor of the test
Keeps the door shut
Locked with a key
Forgot where it’s put
I send reminders daily
But you’re not even looking for me
Sep 8, 2025
Sep 8, 2025 at 9:11 AM UTC
Destiny maketh me to lie down in sullied pastures
and shows me in an instant what is mine.
I am mother of my will, steward of my nature.
I embrace the children born of the seed of my misgivings.
Inherent nature calls for us to mourn
a child of woe, born in Eden's harem
she is wandering. The taste of fruit still lingers
on her tongue as she is blessed, and passes through
the garden pleasure's widow.
So man may know the breadth of immorality
God hath given what I am to none but I.
And for you, oh child of nature,
naiveté of man, I will tell of all the
truths you've yet to know.
I am the sole proprietor of love's embittered light.
Suitor's move to choose me in a smooth unfettered sweep,
a lily plucked from dewy beds of beauty.
Among thieves I am the memory of prelapsarian song,
of how it was before we were the way we are.
The gaiety of goodness, weightlessness of night,
are wrought too plainly now to be mistaken...
those days are gone--and I,
an unlikely proctor for the movement of the age,
will stand alone.
Jan 7, 2018
Jan 7, 2018 at 7:50 AM UTC
I remember when I saw you at first, sitting at the front with some ranks on your shoulder - the proctor with cute dimples.
I remember that cute little girl with whom I wanted to have a friendship but couldn’t as I was too shy to hit up a conversation.
I remember that pretty girl whom I met after 9 years and she was just the same as she was 9 years back.
I remember how everything had stopped around me after meeting her that I spent the night just seeing the ceiling of my room.
I remember that silky brown haired girl with whom I have cheerful memories of talking at 3 in the night.
I remember those shining eyes with whom once I had a stroll and she grabbed my wrist with her right hand and the same arm with her left.
And I won't forget that cheerful face who loves to wear her black shoes more than anything else.
Oct 24, 2019
Oct 24, 2019 at 10:46 AM UTC
You know what I don't hear
That I heard when I was young;
*It'll all be over soon.
Sooner than you think*.
I heard the doctor say that,
And the pacings of
The Presiding Proctor
Raise tensions in the room.
Then someone says, It's good for you.
But I'm not holding the spoon.
This too shall pass,
The same sun will rise,
The rain falls evenly
On both our sides.
I don't believe in six of one
Or half dozen of the other;
Or the other side of the same coin.
Seldom do we get what we deserve.
I have yet to witness the last
Going first or vice versa.
Maybe there are lasers in space
And brain worms,
Black is not white,
White is not black.
Words are friends.
Fear not,
For they are with us always.
Dec 1, 2024
Dec 1, 2024 at 8:31 AM UTC
If I told you I was dying.
Drowning in my sleep
If I told you I was bleeding
Wrists gushing from the vein
If I told you I was ******* insane.
If I told you I was dying.
Choking in my wake.
And sinking in a lake.
If I told you
I can’t take it anymore.
Every inch of my soul has been explored.
Yeah I’ve told you time and time again
The palm of my hand is so cold
This feeling gets quite old.
I’ve been waiting
Always waiting
For the right time
To tell you that I am not okay.
To tell you that I will not obey
These commands
That seek to **** me further.
I have lost all hope
Because I am losing myself!
Don’t tell me lies
Don’t say it will be alright
Because I am telling you
You can do nothing to stop everything.
You command me to be happy
But bad things keep happening
You treat depression as a concession
Just waiting to charge me
So this is my confession
I hate being seen this way
You send all the doctors
But they really just proctor my life’s events
Pick at my brain and expose what causes me pain
I will never heal this way!
…
Respect my wishes
Undo these stitches
Let me scream which is
My life’s calling!
I’ve received a gift
To make an ordinary life shift
But I am still crying
Over filling with tears
My soul as a tub
Only filling with fears.
There is no escaping my mind!
Raise me up
I’m broken
But a piece of my love is my token
To redeem myself.
Don’t leave me this way
All there is, is rage!
Join me on the stage
This is the way
We turn the page
And light the book on fire!
Burn, ***** burn.
Reckless
The broken are the most dangerous because we have nothing left to lose
You cannot threaten me with a noose
String me up and hang me
But you will only encourage me
If I told you I was broken
I have nothing left to offer
If I told you that you were too late
If I told you
I was drowning in my sleep
…
Would you even care?
Feb 1, 2017
Feb 1, 2017 at 10:48 AM UTC
david cameron stars in lets go outside 26.09.18
it was exposure
not in LA or a bog
BB will bring closure
mr cameron will look back and snog.
at present its all hush
lets not send in a copper
putting dress on gave a little rush
going to be a breakthru not a cropper.
he did sign up to george
and it will congratulate
cameron has been true and no forge
seeing as living in surveillance state.
has the line been crossed
we have to think about implications
into the blue oyster bar tossed
unlike proctor who has many frustrations.
its going to come good
watch it back on replay
you will thank you hood
we like you for being cameron relax about gay.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 5:27 AM UTC