"quashing" poems
they said he should submit this
make submissions and do readings
this is the way it’s been done
for many years
but he didn’t really want to
a couple of rejections left him weary
and he’s a writer not a performer
the contests say “all styles and subjects”
but surely they have criteria
not this one
not this one
this one
the all inclusiveness is a lie
the judges know what they want
he wished they’d be up front and specific
but it’s all about the entry fee
they pretend to be seeders
offering everyone a chance
to grow and bloom
but they’re actually weeders
quickly quashing poems
rubber stamped with doom
they never really stood a chance
because it’s all about the entry fee
“Don’t self publish”, they said
“You’ll regret it”
he did the design and layout anyway
“Can ‘we’ make changes to the cover?”
who the hell is “we”?
this is his book?
sure he wanted sales
that’s what publishing is about
but sink or swim
he wanted his book, his way
especially his first book
and he’s a stubborn *******
the internet is accommodating
this IT age makes it easier
the process has been long
with glitches and obstacles
doubt and procrastination
but the would be destination was worthy
available at amazon
Mar 2, 2013
Mar 2, 2013 at 8:47 PM UTC
The fog shall not lift...sapphire, ruby,
emerald studded chimeras roam the
primordial soup.
The hysterical triad of a bleating goat,
lion's roar, dragon's inflamed screech.
The implacable lot of sublime vision...
reels the shadow of a halo.
The shadow of what's opaque...an
ominous drumbeat of the collective
unconscious.
Pagan hybrid...chimera--sulphurous
manacle of delirium, pomp and glory
of madness.
Releasing opiates within the plush
chambers of your Gaian skull.
Lunar stone's throw to quashing tides...
bone-fetching chimeras 'neath their
moonlit charge at flesh.
Chimeras, no mere inhabitants of an
exotic petting zoo...pattering the early
puddles which became The Face of the
Deep.
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:52 AM UTC
A lifeless life.
A walking time bomb.
A dream like state.
Wandering,
Roaming,
Unknowing,
Unconscious,
Unwilling,
Dissatisfied,
Uncomfortable.
Masked and suffocated and self-destructive.
The palms of your own, quashing, compressing and restricting
Your own
The natural body
The beautiful mind
The connection.
Snapped.
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 5:52 AM UTC
It would seem that the seed of doubt and uncertainty does surround this existence of ours
As much belief you have in god is as much as I have that this divine presence is nothing but rooted in mythology and misconceptions
I cannot and will never try to denounce or undermine your moderate and harmless thoughts on the answer to , undeniably our burning question of seed of creation.
You too should not or really ever try to eradicate or efficiently ostracize any thought or philosophy that seeks to distribute its wealth of wisdom in another way contrary to yours.
Looking inwards from way out there , someone, somewhere may just be watching, a glimpse at this apparently unsurpassable mass of genetic mutation that has resulted in one of the only as of yet discovered intelligent species in such an unexplainable vastness of confusion. The findings of such an unbiased study would find that upon this infinitesimal piece of rock most its occupants live their lives much like the darkness that surrounds, chaotic shambolic and ignorant to their unique stature, their unimaginable greatness.
Locked in a constant war on differences that have managed to eternally segregate and perpetuate a hatred that fuels a fire , a destructive blaze that has consumed wisdom, engulfed logic and appears to be quashing all hopes and ambitions of those who seek for themselves and primarily their children's lives , a future of certainty, a future where serenity and peace are the reasons to be, the reason to do, a future above all, silent of war and unified in defiance of aggression.
A lifetime wasted on the burden of proof rather than the warmth of acceptance
A lifetime wasted on the want of so few being the depression of so many
Just a life time simply wasted
Feb 2, 2016
Feb 2, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
Every time she sees a cactus, her heart cracks back open, bleeding hurt all over her insides. The hurt colors her vision, dulling vibrancy to a lackluster grayscale. It muffles her hearing, deadening melody to a lifeless buzz. It desensitizes her tastebuds, quashing wine to stagnant water. It numbs her skin, anesthetizing the insides of her elbows to empty hollows. But her heart is not dulled, deadened, quashed, or anesthetized. Her heart is a throbbing, fiery ache of pain, longing for the desert.
Dec 30, 2016
Dec 30, 2016 at 1:34 PM UTC
It cuts, tears, rips & devides you
slow or fast it is brutal with intent,
it creeps and crawls through each and every vessel
its vigour can demolish the thickest of walls
disabling vitality, slowly stealing your mind &
quashing your pride killing you inside
friends & lovers, hands tied
meekly sit sadly at your side
caught in the virus of its breath
succumb, our worlds universally fractured forever
as death envelopes you, my love like an unstoppable tide.
my tears fall, I am shell
..... with an empty soul
lost and left stranded to mourn alone
I yearn to die as I sit and cry
this cruel sickness steals all
Jul 20, 2014
Jul 20, 2014 at 5:17 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
A
man,
slyly
hidden
in plein-air,
Lays silent and waits.
He is isolated, but not dead.
A man invisible, but not lifeless.
He claims elusiveness in his stance,
shrouding in surroundings - masked in a veil -
he gulps a large breath to contain a fleet of sentience.
A watchman - apart from the whole - empty of all motion.
Straining to eschew footsteps in the brush, withal immobile.
A stationary reed, quashing true self, to blend into what they want him to be. Still, a shadow of himself. A solitary tree in a crowded forest.
Seclusion
at its
finest.
Apr 23, 2021
Apr 23, 2021 at 1:10 AM UTC
I gathered words over time
In a dresser divided
Verbs, pronouns,
Adjectives, nouns
Each in their own separate drawer.
Words that I use all the time
Stay near the top
Of the drawer that
They each belong in
Other words like “quashing”
And “protoplasm” stay near
The bottom and never get used
Until just now when I grabbed them
For this poem.
Jul 23, 2020
Jul 23, 2020 at 11:22 PM UTC
Heads, Heads,
I want Heads,
Smiling Heads, handshaking Heads,
Heads full of dung,
Heads hiding tons
Heads that are scheming
Always overseeing
Heads that love licking
Otherwise it's aching
Heads making deals
After the kills
Heads who think sharp
Their sycophants clap
Heads making tails
Heads growing nails
Heads, Heads,
I want...
often you see them
Making headlines
'working' for people
and killing at night
they are all smiling
but covertly thriving
apt in hard-quashing
any dissenting voices!
they speak of rights,
they talk of justice
they air confidence
they paint rosy future
you think 'His excellence,
is irreplaceably nice.'
that's exactly the thing
they'd like to spread
while they conspire and devise
Heads, Heads...
Smiling Heads,
Heads with headgears
Heads with less hair
Heads with a cap
Heads full of crap
they come in varieties
in suits or saris
all of them are honey-tongued
with daggers under their arms
they are the looters
they fear no other
except the roars
of united men.
when the men assemble
their thorns tremble
and finally they pay
with heads that were gay
I want those Heads
it's time for Heads
enough of waiting
it's so frustrating
it's time for Heads
We need to chop
those
heads
off
chopped Heads
Head chops
chopped heads
Head chops
I want heads
warring Heads
plotting Heads
lying Heads
looting Heads
corrupting Heads
Heads, Heads,
those rotten Heads
I want them chopped
I want them Heads.
Mar 11, 2019
Mar 11, 2019 at 4:15 PM UTC