"pursuant" poems
A bleak motive, turning in a black backwards motion.
Fluent in rushing, pursuant in the crushing.
Ebony wood, the serenity compared to the knife.
A stifling recollection, within the house of corrections.
Was it a natural selection, gazing within the angel's reflection?
Garbed in white, and in her conviction.
A change of direction, now...
The resurrection of our mutual affection,
Was it over protection, or was it just mental rejection?
The pain was only an imperfection, built within all our disconnection.
My sense of direction gone within your vertical selection,
left with words- sharp like a needle;
sticking an intravenous injections.
So, should I offer my protection? Moments, within sight of the point of intersection?
No, keep on...
Keep on spreading the rejection infection.
Nov 10, 2012
Nov 10, 2012 at 2:10 PM UTC
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QUIVER ALL-MAXIMIZING
SAMUEL DAVID <[email protected]>
3:38 AM (56 minutes ago)
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Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 7:44 AM UTC
*She was costly Bordeaux
he was recycled biker leather,
her classic affluent beauty
yearned for motorcycle thrills,
she lifted him up a grade
he brought her down to street level,
they fused at steamy rush hours
under trafficked high ways,
pursuant to reckless merging
reality's intersections accelerated
crashing expedited speed limits,
would never again drive
mid smoothly paved junctures
at the standard rate of normal*
Jul 6, 2015
Jul 6, 2015 at 12:12 PM UTC
Hello Darkness, my old friend,
The self-doubt that comes creeping in.
Hello Darkness, fickle and fiendish,
It is nice to see you again.
Hello Ambition, my old mentor,
The hunger that has me ceasing never.
Hello Ambition, controlling and unending,
It is good to see you again.
Hello Fear, my old companion,
The sickness that feeds my abandon.
Hello Fear, raw and uncut,
It is nice to see you again.
Hello Anger, my old lover,
The fire that never sated hunger.
Hello Anger, lean and strong,
It is nice to see you again.
Hello Lust, my old partner,
The taste that pushed me harder.
Hello Lust, empty and rich,
It is nice to see you again.
Hello Love, my old *****
The red and gold double edged sword.
Hello Love, lying and cheating,
It is nice to see you again.
Hello Night, my old mother,
The love for which I killed another.
Hello Night, deceitful and peaceful,
It is good to see you again.
Hello Envy, my old rival,
The burning need for my survival.
Hello Envy, cold and hard,
It is good to see you again.
Hello Curse, my old bride,
The one who eats away my pride.
Hello Curse, persistent and pursuant,
It is good to see you again.
Hello Gluttony, my old coach,
The pain that ate away my hope.
Hello Gluttony, empty and barren,
It is good to see you again.
Hello Pride, my old brother,
I love you more than the others.
Hello Pride, full and robust,
It is good to see you again.
Hello Darkness, my oldest of friends.
It was from you that I was born.
Hello Darkness, come to swallow me again,
From the light I am torn.
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 3:56 PM UTC
Emotions over come ever moment
Twisting the foundation of reality
Do I take the role of pursuant
Or become another casualty
Slow down and breathe
The pace is too quick
Can't take another moment to think
It's all happening so quick
Regret for those rushed moments
Forever Lost in the past
I am no longer fluent
For the moments end to fast
Slow down and breathe
For rushed moments lead to loss
Jan 17, 2016
Jan 17, 2016 at 5:24 AM UTC
Hey, kid I really like your work. You could win a hundred bucks.
Oh, Andrea Button! How sweet of you to notice.
What do I do what do I do
what do I have to do.
Create an account, handsome. Accept the terms, **** Post your best work, lover.
So you’ll give me one hundred dollars for my soul, Miss Button?
"And you license to Tallmadge all patent, trademarks, trade secrets, copyrights and proprietary rights in and to such Content for publication on the Service pursuant to these Terms of Service."
I said a chance to win, sucker.
Oh Andrea! You devil.
I am a sucker...,
for fine print.
Oct 22, 2013
Oct 22, 2013 at 11:36 AM UTC
It's knocking.
Inviting me to come in.
Not demanding. That won't happen till later.
Right now, we're all on best behavior.
It's calling me,
The satin, silk, and cashmere of well chosen words.
Painting a picture of possibility and promise.
Implausible pay, promotion and perks
Pursuing the path, pursuant to plan.
It's inviting me in,
And reminding me that this was my idea.
But to what, I am not as certain as I was.
Or perhaps I'm just a little afraid.
Are those tingles excitement or premonition?
Warning or inhibition?
It is calling me.
It 's calling me forward, or so it says.
I think it's forward; hard to tell direction some times,
amidst a fog or bright lights.
But I hear voices behind me too.
Calling me back, whispers of doubt, hints of inadequacy.
That's weird, but there's cheering too.
Oh, the blessings of being loved!
It sounds familiar. Those voices have been quiet for some time.
Are they mine?
I think it's about time both choruses were heard again.
It's knocking. I'm walking.
Headed for the door.
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 12:29 AM UTC
( by Elizabeth Squires and SilverSilkenTongue in Collaboration)
In an idle ilk the poet
Did **** precious time
Non pursuant twas he
Of that haunting rhyme
The Tap tap tap of his Thumbs
In pulse to the Anxiety that Comes
Resistant and Hesitant this Choice of Word
Like crows on a wire flitting to and fro
Simply to be Assured who is top Bird
He mulled in thought
On his composition
Yet not acting on it
Due to a stalling disposition
Caught in a Web, of Websters Dictionary
Assonance and Consanace Fundimentaly
He Chews each Syllable to Spit out
The Misconstrued Vowels that he Shouts!
By Elizabeth Squires and Silver Silken Tongue
Special Thanks to Ann who suggested Elizabeth and I should Collaborate
Oct 2, 2014
Oct 2, 2014 at 5:48 AM UTC
vibrations resonate from the keys
and a rhythmic heart beats all eighty-eight.
those who cannot glean her pleasantries,
adorn snapshots of SOHO shopping sprees.
a gleam of light seems dull amongst the coral reefs,
sending shivers up the spine of apathy.
shaping narrow minds and corrupting the weak,
is this vial, verbose and anxious society.
a butter knife has taken the place of my edge,
not sure how to sharpen its fight.
a flutter of broken wings i've pledged
this blur has delayed my flight.
so i steady my fingers
over both blacks and whites,
and ready libations,
like Goethe's pursuant might,
vibrations do linger with no end in sight,
until my art escapes me, only fluent at night.
we coral reefs need to be saved
_TRF
Oct 18, 2017
Oct 18, 2017 at 1:32 AM UTC
The peace had lasted quite some time in
The shallow corners of my tiny mind was
Utter silence of the oddest tune.
Did I crave your voice to ruin the
Tranquilities which were pursuant since
You left me for nothing less than fine?
How I could wish for a great calamity
Of wind and fire, of earth and sea to
Upset this lonely fate of mine.
And yet here you stand again with
An open hand, slyly hiding a grin on
That unmistakable face of yours.
But just where have you gone- better yet
Where have you been?
What exactly have you done- and just how
Many of them are sins?
In an amiable attempt to reconcile, I saw
You relent and caught a smile when you
Offered your hand in an earnest jest
I questioned you and this sudden change
The pieces laid out as if a game was played
And they were all in your favor.
You’ve been so fond of clever tricks and tease
And I felt implored to take my leave of
Your haughty presence at once
But despite the awful things I’ve learned of you
Somehow my thought keep drifting to the
Wishful corners you occupy in my mind
Who were you now- better yet,
Who have you been?
Why exactly did you return?
And why do I keep letting you in?
And in my quivering hands were yours entwined in mine
And despite all that I’ve said, I chose you every time
And every time that you leave because I’ve said goodbye
You come back again, to stand in front of my own eyes.
For lack of better judgment, and lack of better taste
I’ve come to accept this fiendish look upon the face
Of myself in this mirror.
© 2014
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 6:14 AM UTC
Only here till’ morning, so the night’s an open road and,
the beaten path only leads to mourning. An off-road traveler,
who escapes the chase of a pursuant sun.
Slow walking through river reeds.
A cupped handful of running water reinforces his state of being;
all but free.
Marathon of miles between, the first date on his gravestone and
the last number his mother reads at the bottom of his eulogy.
The hyphen shorthand for life and,
Missing the meaning through the seams, that connect his first day
to the day he leaves. An often-bereaved purveyor of shattered dreams,
Who stops to smile at every waving tree because,
even in despair he found belief beneath
the bared teeth of the machine trying to syphon from his peace.
A flower born from concrete.
Escaping through the cracked city streets;
out past the horizon line.
Jul 7, 2021
Jul 7, 2021 at 10:12 PM UTC
What breath in this chest I take
Take like the night at Dawn's wake
Wake as eyes must at our birth
Birth and pulse of a Heart's worth...
What shame I now must hold and own
Own as ball to chain, as flesh to bone
Bone deep to have been wrongly had
Had like used knick-knacks, paddy-whacked...
And yet, what colors made a learned soul
Soul as bright as faithful to All who's Whole
Whole of the infinite universe made absolute
Absolute to know my love blind and my hate mute
No one to speak to, no words for proof
Proof of life pursuant to heaven's roof
Roof without rooms for an emperor
Emperor, what am I but a seed to the conifer?
What am I to him, who dresses his sons in gossamer?
Aug 22, 2016
Aug 22, 2016 at 10:21 PM UTC
Wet Cheeks!
The ab dabs they screamed.
When she was leaving.
Walked out of the door.
Expecting much more.
Crying, dying in river deep.
Believed there would be tomorrow,
Tomorrow came not.
Only past a present.
Unpleasant gift of sorrow.
A million and one candid kisses.
Given away by the fool on the hill.
A legacy not left by free will.
Was not pursuant,
Not breaching the lore.
A total surprise.
In a ****** disguise.
Wait so strong.
For the sun more to rise.
Dying sunrise.
Flickered out.
Lava bubbles, as this witch she cuddled.
Her sorry heart as it sits alone.
She is a free bird.
As free as is he.
Last words uttered'I love you',
He states nearly silently.
' I know you do'.
Used vanishing cream to smooth out his wrinkles.
Disappeared.
Left only tears!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Nov 18, 2013
Nov 18, 2013 at 3:16 PM UTC
He could speak fluently
He was eloquent
He proved an elite
So he came to my foolish sister
And poured enough English
She was lured enough
And she was won
I told her to wait.
She could not believe me.
Enough she was convinced
"I am in University
A pursuant of analytical chemistry"
My sister loved beyond love
I took her to the science laboratory
Like for love
She invited him
A handsome well knit guy
He had careful steps
His hair style was fitting
He was a "gentleman"
I could not believe him.
I gave them apparatus
I gave them papers
To do the naming
The results were surprising
The quy could not name any.
I told him
"Ok what name is this apparatus ?"
He replied,
"Ok ,its been some time since I used that one."
I smiled ...
"What is the use of a pippete?"
"It is used for pippeting !"
My friend was disturbed
I pitied him.
I pitied my sister,
She held a degree in political science
But was lured by a form two dropout
They were dead into each other
Inseparable and loving
I told them one word
"Be true to each other,
You are the best that be."
He was a clever mind
And duped my dear sister
And she died to his true love.
Jan 31, 2015
Jan 31, 2015 at 5:17 AM UTC
... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
performance art of a deceptive nymph
... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - in stiletto heels,
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
it is almost as if floating across water
he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over
façade of savoir face - voila! a star in it's place ...
... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
beneathe it could lie disappointment and mistake
drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / the curtain / is unseen, but what if ...
... the truth and process to what presently one sees
or believe
could be / only an amateur attempt:
moments unfelt under layers & layers
of trial and errors / contempt?
would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
smile and devilish wicked secret ?
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath
to prove that swan-lake
a gent
... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song timely hummed & remembered well
priceless history murals' on passing face
all spoken thoughts performing down the lace
define yourself, how the flight of life from embers
happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with grace,
it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing
This trumpeter
swan in stiletto heels...
Apr 26, 2016
Apr 26, 2016 at 6:21 PM UTC
"Let us put
Our hands together for you
Go ahead
Your view we second,
For ideas grow in a mind fecund!"
A support it was reckoned.
Contrariwise,recently
As it may sound sad
By a phony party
It turned out a fad
"Let us not stop to clap
Your freedom of speech
In the face to slap!"
What a mishap
What a mishap
Childish and selfish
Politicians are being seen
Wearing more than one cap--
Sometimes the constitution
On the back they tap
But, often they misconstrue,
Trample on it
Or use it as a trap--
Pursuant of evil ends
With the federal government
They adore to create
A rift or a gap!
A university gets off track
If it allows party members
Infest it
Freedom of speech to attack.
Dec 24, 2018
Dec 24, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC
Jewish activists lay dining,
publicans with plebes aligned;
upon the Roman chaise reclining:
Israelites well-bred (and wined).
Jesus never did wax wroth
while brokering deals for global fail.
No martyr’s noble tablecloth
enfolded Christ, Omega male.
Messiah, Lord of marketing
was favorably credit-rated.
Power points to Christ as king;
One worthy to be worshiped/hated.
Beta beasts and Alpha tyrants
rich investments when installed
tabulate their dull aspirants
chewing cud and unappalled .
Many a sociopathic brute
has steered the bride (Christ’s clueless wife)
away from every attribute
pursuant to eternal life.
You ****** better not forget
when trees get watered at the root
and global profit rises yet
that Jesus wore a business suit.
Apr 16, 2017
Apr 16, 2017 at 7:50 PM UTC
jesus frost.
dog attack.
sold bible
to bible
salesman.
made me sick
did the weakness
of mass
mailbox.
would be
bloodbrothers
instead I witness
them take
separate
*******
photos.
I am not smart about it.
it lives alone.
or dies maybe
surrounded by
those who
were not there
the man’s
men.
I want to capitalize
*** capitalize
on your two
ruined
entries.
jehovabeast & throng-
ophile.
want go
unheralded
as misanthrope’s
diary
of winter.
**** if
both sides
of the nose
don’t marry
while the mouth
is on
location.
lose a hand
swatting the neck
to get the swatting
done with.
then it’s church
the hotel
for church
goers.
some dads
get they
insides
bit
to bite down
on god.
I’ve been outside
and I’ve been outside
women.
don’t have a clue, army.
Nov 13, 2013
Nov 13, 2013 at 2:28 PM UTC
The dawn chorus
breaks the silence.
A hush was my intended
understanding.
I gather not wearisomely
along this Rudderless incline,
humbled by my pursuant thoughts.
Mar 16, 2013
Mar 16, 2013 at 11:23 AM UTC
Depravity Acts Like Gravity
Bringing you down
to Chaos and Degradation
And Degenerating Entropy
Trapped in a Path of Iniquity
Engorging an Extremity
To part the Lips of Life and Love
Enshrouding all that would shove
Pursuant to the path to Ecstasy
All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 7:04 PM UTC
real is the form.
here now is a colony of words,
or an empire of assault from the
many truths that smite us.
our hearts gallop altogether
past the prairie of imaginations:
this movement, this locutionary,
this waltz adagios its way
to a pace that knows no sojourn.
let us raise our clenched fists
always angelward.
we are young in this agronomy.
our hands remind us of their increasing responsibilities.
our inner light realizes the throng of our shadows - away from the dark
we go pursuant to all effulgence.
let us unpin our juvenile wings
from the clasp of what startles
us back to our flawed origins.
a flumine of flawlessness awaits
the steep end of our possibilities.
let us not neglect this.
let us, hand in hand, straightforwardly, break from our nascent states and unfurl in a craze of the so many things that capture our potentials.
outside my home, the streets are vacuous, famished from the twirling laughter of children.
once, the grass is giddy from the lightsome meanderings of our superfluous feet! where did all the days crawl to? these limbless serpents that pillage the fruits of our sageness.
i look outside and the mellow moon
enters with its lithe figure
through the hollow spaces of doors
to lairs where the youth are sleeping, unmindful of what dreams log onto the papers of their souls.
heed the call and do not let
it go, running off into another hapless length of waiting.
real is the form.
there is no lie in our rawness.
the voice inside us is tender
with message, purging our poisons
into detox and preparing with
new energies, our
flesh for our consigned ventures.
the voluminous pages are still
white and new, words besmirched still yearn to be written - there is no getting realer than the realization of our clarion call:
real is the form
and in the blank veranda of green
we sift through wordlessness,
gaping our mouths now,
contributing a verse,
or a song!
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 11:26 PM UTC
Drag/Queen
... he points his toes
like a swan stretching its neck :
smooth calves in fish-nets
to slip into stiletto heels,
performance art of a deceptive nymph
... grace on fine-point tips : his gift - in stiletto heels,
impersonation or personification of feminine beauty
leporine lithely limned
delicate dancer
it is almost as if floating across water
he mimicked once more before
some inner mother's nature took over
façade of savoir face - voila! a star in it's place ...
... It is her face when the night creates a cape
borne with Van Gogh plumes sufficed with self
she paints upon his face : starry nights
sun-flowers, irises covering the welts...
comparably museum worthy, imitation flames
yet like any other canvas
beneath it could lie disappointment and mistake
drafts of inspiration, cover-ups of cynicism
another creature - some creation unlike him
what was before / her soft curtain / kept unseen,
but what if ...
... the truth and process to what presently others see
to believe or not
could be / only an amateur attempt:
moments unfeeling under layers & layers
of blush / trial and errors / sharp contempt
would you wipe away Mona Lisa's
smile so devilish with wicked secret
just to uncover blemished a masterpiece:
an ugly Danish duckling underneath ?
To prove his swan-lake / a gent
... to evolve from broken eggshells
become a song sung timely
hummed & remembered well
(hells bells and *****
Drag queens’
priceless history / murals' on passing face
No broken naughts
While performing down his lace
define yourself, she affirms her mirrors...
The harsh flight of life from the embers,
happiness pursuant to tender
Fully free with goddess grace,
it is the power of creativity / the spirit's ability
to overcome adversity
the art of divinity - that is
what he is practicing
This trumpeter
swan in stiletto heels...
Nov 27, 2017
Nov 27, 2017 at 6:55 PM UTC
I wonder if you think of me. I truly wonder if I'm the one you want. I wonder if I'm someone you love or just a placeholder for a past lover somehow still pursuant in your eyes. I wonder if somehow your kisses aren't meant for me. I wonder if maybe somehow your incoherent moanings are simply his name in an unintelligible commotion of conflicting feelings far too deep for me to discern. I tell the stars about you. I think maybe somehow the stars can understand how I feel about you. You have consumed me. Sometimes I wonder why you stick around because I don't think I have more to offer than this ****** up brain and this ****** up heart. I wonder if you think of me. I've spent countless hours thinking of you. I wonder if you think of me. Sometimes I'm afraid I'm nothing more than a footnote in your epilogue and your story is already written in his arms and I'm just an afterthought. Sometimes I don't understand why you stay. Sometimes i wonder if you realize how much this hurts me. Sometimes I wonder if you think of me. I think of you. Sometimes I wonder if you think of me.
Apr 15, 2017
Apr 15, 2017 at 3:10 AM UTC
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May 27, 2018
May 27, 2018 at 6:27 PM UTC