"qualm" poems
A dandelion sits alone
dreaming emotions that don't belong
inside a flower's wilted heart
A dandelion on it's throne
sees a man trundling along
and grabs him before the start
A dandelion rips the bones
from the man without qualm
until his head is the last part
The head falls upon a stone
the flower knows it's all wrong
the wilt covering it's heart
and whispers slowly to itself:
"She loves me not..."
Aug 8, 2014
Aug 8, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
Among pelagian travelers,
Lost on their lewd conceited way
To Massachusetts, Michigan,
Miami or L.A.,
An airborne instrument I sit,
Predestined nightly to fulfill
Columbia-Giesen-Management's
Unfathomable will,
By whose election justified,
I bring my gospel of the Muse
To fundamentalists, to nuns,
to Gentiles and to Jews,
And daily, seven days a week,
Before a local sense has jelled,
From talking-site to talking-site
Am jet-or-prop-propelled.
Though warm my welcome everywhere,
I shift so frequently, so fast,
I cannot now say where I was
The evening before last,
Unless some singular event
Should intervene to save the place,
A truly asinine remark,
A soul-bewitching face,
Or blessed encounter, full of joy,
Unscheduled on the Giesen Plan,
With, here, an addict of Tolkien,
There, a Charles Williams fan.
Since Merit but a dunghill is,
I mount the rostrum unafraid:
Indeed, 'twere damnable to ask
If I am overpaid.
Spirit is willing to repeat
Without a qualm the same old talk,
But Flesh is homesick for our snug
Apartment in New York.
A sulky fifty-six, he finds
A change of mealtime utter hell,
Grown far too crotchety to like
A luxury hotel.
The Bible is a goodly book
I always can peruse with zest,
But really cannot say the same
For Hilton's Be My Guest.
Nor bear with equanimity
The radio in students' cars,
Muzak at breakfast, or--dear God!--
Girl-organists in bars.
Then, worst of all, the anxious thought,
Each time my plane begins to sink
And the No Smoking sign comes on:
What will there be to drink?
Is this ma milieu where I must
How grahamgreeneish! How infra dig!
****** from the bottle in my bag An analeptic swig?
Another morning comes: I see,
Dwindling below me on the plane,
The roofs of one more audience
I shall not see again.
God bless the lot of them, although
I don't remember which was which:
God bless the U.S.A., so large,
So friendly, and so rich.
4k
Breathe not, hid Heart: cease silently,
And though thy birth-hour beckons thee,
Sleep the long sleep:
The Doomsters heap
Travails and teens around us here,
And Time-Wraiths turn our songsingings to fear.
Hark, how the peoples surge and sigh,
And laughters fail, and greetings die;
Hopes dwindle; yea,
Faiths waste away,
Affections and enthusiasms numb:
Thou canst not mend these things if thou dost come.
Had I the ear of wombed souls
Ere their terrestrial chart unrolls,
And thou wert free
To cease, or be,
Then would I tell thee all I know,
And put it to thee: Wilt thou take Life so?
Vain vow! No hint of mine may hence
To theeward fly: to thy locked sense
Explain none can
Life’s pending plan:
Thou wilt thy ignorant entry make
Though skies spout fire and blood and nations quake.
Fain would I, dear, find some shut plot
Of earth’s wide wold for thee, where not
One tear, one qualm,
Should break the calm.
But I am weak as thou and bare;
No man can change the common lot to rare.
Must come and bide. And such are we—
Unreasoning, sanguine, visionary—
That I can hope
Health, love, friends, scope
In full for thee; can dream thou’lt find
Joys seldom yet attained by humankind!
3.8k
On that bright day his mind was unusually calm
He stopped by the beggar to offer him some alms
Feeling at peace with himself without a trace of qualm
He took a deep breath, with life he was coming to term.
Goodness he pondered was quite an achievable feat
A small spark that made him offer the old man a seat
Each familiar face he smiled at such easy was to greet
Inside him he grew healthier being good was great benefit.
Why men suffer jealousy fight for one-upmanship
Instead of trading for goodness most precious human keep
Just not burn to earn his food comfort and restful sleep
But live in shining goodness make life a rewarding trip.
Being good with one’s own kind he felt wouldn’t do
Other lives around him must kindly be treated too
A crumb of bread for the street dog on its head a little pat
Pints of milk and a little care for the weak and ailing cat.
As he walked the road thoughts like these lighted up his face
He found waiting on wayside many things begging goodness
Determined he would reach them all do them a little good
He sprinted along in a sprightly gait his mind in deep brood.
Back home when she opened the door he gave her a broad smile
She glowered a little askance for he hadn’t done it a while
*What brings you this sheepish smile what for the elation?
Don’t even think you can ever make on me a good impression!*
Dec 6, 2013
Dec 6, 2013 at 2:45 AM UTC
.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Walk with me n be my Friend:
fending oFF thee awful Qualm,
calming all the thoughts of Death.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Talk to me if no one Else.
"tell me what to do aGain?...
...death is gonna Haunchew."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall,
Waltzing in my ball of Hair;
share the Yarn of all you Bear,
spare the Rod n chop the Sheers.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
"Welcome to the slums of Hell."
help me Speak in bleeding Tongue.
"vi la Vita......vi de Vel".
Mirror Mirror on the Wall:
wall of Talking thought so Clear;
hear the Fall of waldo's Water,
thrall the Call of ocean Odlaw.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
call my Bluff n cuff my Arms,
bar my Cell n sell my Soul,
sow the Seed n reap its Rose.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
flaunt my Card n guard the Door.
Youre the one im steering Clear of...
..."ofCourse you are."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all i Know is no ones Lost,
mossy Oak is all i Know,
frozen Walls i call my Home.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Are ish ards of Glass;
lashing Out n always Laughing,
laughing as you watch me Ball.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Do is use my Tears.
here you Are with all the Cotton,
swabbing all my flaws n Fears.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
call me what you always Do:
stupid Queer n weird n Ugly."dont
******* Tell me what to Do."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
talk the way you always Have:
Chanting like a ******* Trucker,
Cussing like a ******* Sailor.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Hollow be my only Name.
satan stole my only Halo:
angel of a broken Cross.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
Follow me n see my View.
you should see what i have Saw...
...all ive seen is You.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all you Are is all i Am.
have you not a ******* Conscience?...
..."obviously Not."
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
walk a long this haunted Path.
after That if you can Laugh...
...so can I.
Mirror Mirror on the Wall;
all youve Done is run n Hide.
'and Then...
...tyler was Gone.
was iaSleep?...
...had i Slept?'
- Jack's Medulla Oblongata
.
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 6:51 PM UTC
Blackberries, fat with summer rays,
Burst sure and true, like ocean waves
Against my tongue they carry too
The scent, the touch, the taste of you.
Each bramble stripped with greedy hands
Felt no qualm from scarlet brands
Those such marks would wash away but
Stains of you will still remain.
The scratches heal, I’ll brush away
Those nettle prongs that stick and stay
I’ll brush the bracken, soothe the sting
But thoughts of you will always cling.
Those onyx beads, their shiny spheres
Imbued with Sunshine, wet with tears;
The taste is fading from my mouth
Their waves of sweetness drawing out.
Mar 25, 2015
Mar 25, 2015 at 12:44 PM UTC
foam floral caps, work of wet hydrangea,
or pulse of caucasian lilacs in a sky-relieved frieze.
cambric pennons swag reconsidering
margins of wimpling burn,
wherein the stars…twiring stars,
the declining stars, moon and planets
turned--
purchase light with morning-hands:
green-bedizened;
amber trammeling bud.
absolve qualm suffusing tyre,
violet’s violent leniency--
and feel, o’bask! in velvet
flume of veins,
as beams of conspiracy raise
to post and lintel,
crutching a young god’s legs--
and feel, o’supplicate! bathe in
day’s anatomies,
til greave deposit in lacunary sleeves,
and a genuflecting sun bow eternally--
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 6:38 PM UTC
losing thoughts to the margins in
some great depression of creative
outlet. taking inked works from a
revered Shakespeare born of the
Moorish states, filling out cata-
combs of this one's entombed
thoughts. and pondering Paris
of some earlier century, how
those writers flocked together.
how this one loathes his current
centuries other writers.
and these, are we, birds of a feather?
flocking, so to be better caught
by twelve-gauge scatter shot?
perhaps we are of a generation
lost, with blinders grown thru years.
expats stranded in a sea of comp-
lacancy in isolation with warring
souls raising higher parapets for
safety? this one's soul may have
raised too high fortifications,
forcing attrition upon the inhab-
itants. this one's soul may have
slaughtered the others for fear
of a low-cat staring up to
the eyes of its King. and
lone heart-beat echoing off
solid stone walls built of mortar
mixed with sweat and tears from
desecrated - of the desolated - and
now forsaken culture only a
quarter-century out. this one's
dogma consisting of self-martying
psychopomps pre-proclaiming ..
'I went out myself into
an immortal body, and
now I am not what I was
before. Now born in mind.'
this one's canonized martyrs only
seeking migration and division.
seeking the Kepigori for hopes of
retrieving knowledge lost - placed
without qualm of forgetting - the
ancestors bore unto still setting
mounds of clay mixed blood. and
when finally set, when finally full-
formed, when finally upright and
springing forth the common know-
ledge which was taught once in
truth. and, now breaking in thought
while this one's hours rot, while this
one leaves an abrupt end.
Aug 21, 2013
Aug 21, 2013 at 7:41 AM UTC
In schooldays my aim was terribly perfect
add to that an attitude unfair
a soft teacher was an easy found target
not one bald head was allowed to be spared.
The moment the poor man turned to blackboard
his baldness shined as a gaming site
the sleeping devil woke up and deep roared
dispatched were chalks on windborne flight.
Only a few did land on wrong place
but found mostly their rightful targets
and bore no qualm the thrower's face
when cheered by the fellow classmates.
As the victim turned with ire's full steam
nursing stings that came with good force
we in the gang were such an honest team
never revealed it came from what source.
It went on smooth till luck failed one day
has to end all games one once starts
a traitor midst us the secret gave away
memory of the thrashing badly hurts.
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:30 AM UTC
cradle me in your arms
never, never let me go
lull me in your embrace
until forevermore
tenderly hold me
in the darkness of the night
let your arms tell me
everything is alright
in your arms
I feel secure
from harm
in your arms
I'll not feel
one little qualm
cradle me in your arms
never, never let me go
lull me in your embrace
until forevermore
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 8:48 PM UTC
cradle me in
your arms
never never
let me go
lull me in your
embrace
until
forevermore
tenderly hold me
in the darkness
of the night
let your loving arms
tell me that
everything
will be
alright
in
your
arms
I'll
feel
secure
from
harm
in
your
arms
I'll
have
not
one
little
qualm
cradle me in
your arms
never never
let me go
lull me in your
embrace
until
forevermore
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 4:21 AM UTC
The engulfing darkness,
The plague of agony, terror, odium
A festering scar of angst, anguish, fury
A scathing blade of menace, threat, misery
The mocking face of self-oppression
The plunging hope,
The inducement of wails, cries, suffering
An enforcement of fear, cruelty, reticence
A silence of elation, liberty, thought
The mocking face of self-suppression
The dwindling faith,
The death of emotion, purity, love
A birth of qualm, hatred, abuse
A cry of rejection, refusal, aversion
The mocking face of self-treatment
Aug 21, 2012
Aug 21, 2012 at 1:36 PM UTC
Allow me to project my insides
Beside your ear.
Certainly you can
Determine how the
Emptiness within my body
Forgoes the exuberance
Gathered on the surface.
Haphazardly phrased fragments
I speak
Just to be heard, even faintly.
Knowing my words
Level worlds,
Monopolize hearts,
Negate negativity,
Omitted from the explicit.
Perfectly formed fractures
Qualm me as they
Reverberate through my body
Slithering their way
Through Timothy's
Universe.
Viciously assaulting
Where they fit best.
Xenobiotic and almost parasitic
Yarns about a
Zealous life not yet lived
Jun 21, 2013
Jun 21, 2013 at 6:43 PM UTC
6 sides
Latent enabler
Counterpoint to truth, amorphic
Dada to life
Callous Birth
Islands dripped in collagen
Mystic, effortless life
Tempests laden iota in tune
Riven
Licked flat, obtuse
Crescent stench
Pagan cells
Hazard the thought
Pick the Atlantic cherry
Reach further than comfort
Pushed & consumed
Spirited paste
Jesuit told in spheres
Lament interest, matted quill
Totem, Saxon tribe
Inflections of hearsay
And Swastikas on parade
Guilt of the blacksmith, undecided
The arms of tablets
Ashtrays & tropospheric light
Another page turned
Capsules filled with perfume
Loose skin lost in relics
Temporal lobe
Cautioned indignant
Pardon the prose
Sonnets dissolved in ethanol
Caricatures of the fleeting
Of our cities last broadcast
Absorbed by times gone
Glittered pestilence
Canceling subordinates, powdered Semtex
Soup of the sewer
Lift the butcher above your head
Nazca lines
Suborbital
Silk screen with *****
Horizontal qualm toward revulsion
Incursion
Calm, cued and cubed
Lab coats coated in pharmaceuticals
Base compound, ionic bond
Covalent CNS
Sympathetic vibration
Default to nature
To theorise movement
Agitate intolerance, turbulence
Beautiful thought
Calculate causality
Passenger of licked lips
Token to latex
Croft in ear, to taste
Unlaced tips, rings of halothane
Bliss
Intrigued with obscurity
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 1:33 PM UTC
Yevgeny Yevtushenko
No monument stands over Babi Yar.
A drop sheer as a crude gravestone.
I am afraid.
Today I am as old in years
as all the Jewish people.
Now I seem to be
a Jew.
Here I plod through ancient Egypt.
Here I perish crucified, on the cross,
and to this day I bear the scars of nails.
I seem to be
Dreyfus.
The Philistine
is both informer and judge.
I am behind bars.
Beset on every side.
Hounded,
spat on,
slandered.
Squealing, dainty ladies in flounced Brussels lace
stick their parasols into my face.
I seem to be then
a young boy in Byelostok.
Blood runs, spilling over the floors.
The barroom rabble-rousers
give off a stench of ***** and onion.
A boot kicks me aside, helpless.
In vain I plead with these pogrom bullies.
While they jeer and shout,
"Beat the Yids. Save Russia!"
some grain-marketeer beats up my mother.
0 my Russian people!
I know
you
are international to the core.
But those with unclean hands
have often made a jingle of your purest name.
I know the goodness of my land.
How vile these anti-Semites-
without a qualm
they pompously called themselves
the Union of the Russian People!
I seem to be
Anne Frank
transparent
as a branch in April.
And I love.
And have no need of phrases.
My need
is that we gaze into each other.
How little we can see
or smell!
We are denied the leaves,
we are denied the sky.
Yet we can do so much --
tenderly
embrace each other in a darkened room.
They're coming here?
Be not afraid. Those are the booming
sounds of spring:
spring is coming here.
Come then to me.
Quick, give me your lips.
Are they smashing down the door?
No, it's the ice breaking ...
The wild grasses rustle over Babi Yar.
The trees look ominous,
like judges.
Here all things scream silently,
and, baring my head,
slowly I feel myself
turning gray.
And I myself
am one massive, soundless scream
above the thousand thousand buried here.
I am
each old man
here shot dead.
I am
every child
here shot dead.
Nothing in me
shall ever forget!
The "Internationale," let it
thunder
when the last anti-Semite on earth
is buried forever.
In my blood there is no Jewish blood.
In their callous rage, all anti-Semites
must hate me now as a Jew.
For that reason
I am a true Russian!
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 3:04 AM UTC
When all the world’s ablaze
I will hold you loosely
Loosen our tenure
Of life in qualm
In daze
Of longing
Of something better
Feel.
However pale with every yawning
Know that you are freeing
See that you are slipping
Distant
Within my reach
Finally conceding
All of life lived being
All of tumultuous jeering
Apr 30, 2011
Apr 30, 2011 at 12:32 PM UTC
I am generally poised like the deep and steady ocean calm;
but with whatever happens on the surface I do have a qualm.
There are many ripples and waves that arise and subside
but they are really all signs that there’s life down inside.
I encompass all the land that rises from my surface;
which at times becomes much like a blazing furnace
and provide moisture to the clouds and atmosphere above
which in turn send it back down in grateful tears of love.
The storms of nature often pick me up to cause a disturbance
which may have something to do with my own protuberance;
but these are really the reactions to all the inhabitants on the land
who with their ignorance are plundering everything by their hand.
Once in a while I have to shrug my shoulders and shift mantle
which causes an earthquake on the land and a major upheaval;
as I have no one who can scratch my back or understand my need
because I’m plagued by parasites that are very troublesome indeed.
I don’t intentionally mean to do anybody any harm
but have to follow my instincts and sound the alarm;
in such a way that will get the message across
regardless of any relative notions of gain or loss.
____________________________________
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 12:07 AM UTC
I left you without qualm
or hesitation, taking perhaps
the shortest path
through that red door
of doubts and roads
without redemption
I left you
standing in the plain
of shattered moments
walking on the edge of all
the maybes and the whys
but kept you deep in the veins
emptied of any sorrow
and regret, wrapped in
all that makes the
thoughts the single sense
I kept you
as the voice that raises breath
and blood and heart
in the dawn, in the rise and fall
of all our steps
toward each other and away
I kept you without fear
without a scruple, without
regard to rights or wrongs
and in the certainty of each
and every yes inside my head
taking that never ending walk
without qualm or hesitation
Dec 31, 2015
Dec 31, 2015 at 6:24 PM UTC
What is beautiful?
The sound
The structure
The negative space in bouts of apathy
What is right?
What is meant?
We were learning the reward of struggle
Becoming alive in a dead summer
Jigsaw puzzles in an alcoholic slumber
A cramp in the middle of my palm
Rub me the right way to resolve the qualm
Im not so sure
Im not so pure
Where does ecstasy and reality meet?
We coalesced
I cried
"These hands were made for YOU!"
You held me tight
Is everything we spoke obsolete?
Too much rings true and it’s out of harmony
Am I in love or just being lazy?
I know what I really want
But is it right for me?
Who’s to say?
God, fill me in on this game.
Aug 7, 2013
Aug 7, 2013 at 11:20 PM UTC
Feed the lion.
She is the law of the light
and the love of the lamb.
Teeth tear open wounds
ripping skin like rags;
flesh for the feast,
an altar for the beast.
She looks at her prey.
Her eyes pierce the heart.
Her body's of a lover.
Her breast are of a mother.
She swallows the sin of it's soul.
She eats the salts in it's sweat.
and let's the blood wrap around lips
dripping crimson on the sands.
Sep 12, 2011
Sep 12, 2011 at 10:36 AM UTC
Are you bored with yourself?
Too much free time, it seems
Judgmental joker, you!
Thinking of your agonized dreams
Don't you wish that just one time
You had a pleasant thought
Really trying oh so hard
Break free of the web which you're caught
Insignificant details blur your view
Try to see the rest
Forget about what you think is best
And feel what others deem as true
In time you will grow up
Til then, go on and on and on
With your contradicting faceless qualm
And realize before the storm is calm
Probably a warning -
Quit before you end up mourning
The loss of yourself
Taken off a pedestal and put instead on a shelf
Oct 22, 2011
Oct 22, 2011 at 3:32 AM UTC
A dust storm blows through Kansas
Stinging, lashing shrieks
The sand blows holes through a Canvas
Who collects the words, and sleeks
The gunfire of their sound, for weeks
His brows steeled and heavy
The whirlwind quits its wails
And leaves, lily-livered in its belly
A tsunami bellows over Mastushima bay
Body slamming into townsfolk
A long-time build up lead astray
One sun-browned girl is left to choke
But then spits out the damage, in half broke
And the colossal wave recedes
Quietened, calm and apologetic
Anger fleeing as it bleeds
Snow drifts and crawls its way past Moscow
Gentle, almost alluring in its ways
Children present their tongues, and the sow
Charges, squealing, into guts and begins frays
Which twist their ears burnt, lasting for a thousand days
And eventually a conscience melts the qualm
And the damage rectified on-surface
But frostbite clings to fingers; done already is the harm
Weather will hound and scorch and spit
And eventually untether
And though people bite and kick and hit
No emotion lasts forever
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 8:44 AM UTC
cradle me in your arms
never never let me go
lull me in your embrace
until forevermore
tenderly hold me
in the darkness of the night
let your loving arms
tell me everything will be alright
in your arms
I'll feel secure
from harm
in your arms
I'll have not
one little qualm
cradle me in your arms
never never let me go
lull me in your embrace
until forevermore
Sep 3, 2013
Sep 3, 2013 at 9:06 AM UTC
Ho' brethren
Ho' hounds of thine dwelling
Ho' men of rhyme
Ho' men of crime
Thine Fellowship dost proclaim
a size larger than mine own name
but woe to ye, tis mine to claime fame
To slander your Mother - your mistress
Without qualm - without distress
To the ladies of god I do impress
No matter your efforts I do protest
I am the duke, you a mere governess
to ye I ask
dost thou even hoist?
To carry 10 to 12 boys before mine pits moist
My morals, my appeal
are none to be contended with
always greater than yer' zeal
Mine own rhymes wicked from bark to pith
I dost ask ye to attempt mine own game
But prepare to be shamed.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
She is captivating:
She is my pet,
She is my fire,
My little nymphet.
Annabel, dearest, of sea-word waves,
Of sandcastles torn down by hungry waters.
Even now, the scepter of my passion
Stands at attention with memory.
As Humbert ages, his desire stays
Grown ladies don’t suffice.
As he dreams of Annabel in sea-word waves,
Nymphets become his vice.
But I am no liar--I am no ******
Ladies and gentleman of the jury, be calm.
And recognize that Humbert’s eyes
See your every qualm.
Nevertheless, she is captivating:
She is my pet
She is my fire
My little nymphet.
Feb 11, 2015
Feb 11, 2015 at 6:52 PM UTC