"rebuff" poems
I could love you
as dry roots love rain.
I could hold you
as branches in the wind
brandish petals.
Forgive me for speaking so soon.
Let your heart look
on white sea spray
and be lonely.
Love is a fool star.
You and a ring of stars
may mention my name
and then forget me.
Love is a fool star.
19k
The Equalist!
RE: The guerrilla girl’s poster 5% women artists yet 85% of the models are female.
This poster was heralded as a feminist rebuff of misogyny and the male gaze.
It is my opinion: one of the reasons females are more sexualised than males in Western society; is because the majority of women working in a sexualised industry such as modelling, dancing, fashion or *********** choose to perpetuate that role and the connection between *** and femininity; often in industries where females outnumber the men six to one; I'm also aware that the majority of the hierarchy in theses industries are male, it seems their gender solidarity is more concerned with the money; than notions of ****** inequality; thus perpetuating the issue.
Vernacular test:
Step one - Question one:
I took a survey of 30 fellow artists asking what is a misandry? followed by what is your gender?
Step two - Question two:
I took a survey of 30 fellow artists asking what is a misogyny? followed by what is your gender?
I did offer any information or allow any of the subjects to see the survey paper, or overhear the question.
Results: 30 subjects took part in the survey; One female knew both words and their meaning, and one female didn't know what Misogyny was. (Two females approached refused to take part in the survey, all men approached engaged.)
Step three - Question three:
I then gave all the subjects the dictionary definition and asked why they thought the vernacular misandry is not as well known as the word misogyny?
(I should add that I too couldn't recall the vernacular meaning of: Misandry; though I could recall the meaning or definition of Misogyny.)
Answers:
Female... "I don't care"
Female... "It's due to a gender economic imbalance"
Female..."Blokes just don't like it when women speak out about it"
Female..."I don't get involved in protests"
Female..."I don't know"
Female..."Men just think with their ******
Female... "There's more misogynists"
Female... "Because men are pigs"
Female... "Why does it mater"
Female... "It's just a word"
Female... "I'm not interested"
Female..."Try being a women"
Female... " It's ******** it's just a vernacular"
Female..."You wouldn't understand your a man"
The other 5 Females... chose to offer no explanation.
Answers:
Male..."I don't know"
Male... "who cares"
Male... "Yeh that's interesting"
Male... Why does it matter"
Male... "Let me think about it"
Male... "Who gives a ****
Male... "What's this about"
Male... "Can I see the results later"
The other 2 males... Chose to offer no explanation.
I personally identify as human; and don't wish to be defined, labeled or marginalised; I also don’t believe that secularism in any measure is healthy or meaningful in an inclusive society.
I question why 29 out of 30 subjects had heard of Misogyny; and just one person had heard of Misandry.
Sexism is not as the dictionary suggested prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, typically against women.
Everyone is effected buy prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination.
The subtleties of which is played out every day.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
He struggles and ponders,
reads and re-reads,
My markers fail before his eyes,
his naivety takes over,
A fruit? he queries,
I burst out in laughter,
Can be, I agree, but I await for more,
he peruses and my ribs tickled,
amused and curious, I stayed,
at his innocence that shined.
A Mango! he exclaims!
No! I equally enthused
'A woman, a fruit,
delicious and mystical,
for a man who craves'.
'Oh' the meek sigh, a tiny sound,
concurred or dissent, I know not,
In a flash came a verbal rebuff,
back to his annoying self.
He annoys and appeases,
A friend I have known for years,
Mine forever, I know for sure,
no matter what he says.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
All the sailor's know the warning
of a red-tinged sunrise morning
Storm clouds are on the bay
Just as Sally knew the forming
as his rage began its swarming
Storm clouds again today
Others see something pleasing
and rebuff the ocean's teasing
Storm clouds are on the way
And they said she was mistaken
no beast was there to awaken
Storm clouds they do embrace
But sailor's know their business
as time has oft made them witness
Storm clouds that run their race
To her the truth couldn't be clearer
as she looked into the mirror -
Storm clouds upon her face
The sailor knows to dodge the squall
that morning foretells with its call
Storm clouds then pass them by
Sally was left to take the fall
when truth was denied by us all
Storm clouds then let her die
Troubles in life they take all forms
so listen well when told of storms
Storm clouds never lie
Sep 19, 2010
Sep 19, 2010 at 1:33 AM UTC
I wonder what goes through her head
She's like a book I've never read
The cover both enchanting and confusing me
I comment how her hair looks cute
And peel another piece of fruit
Turns out orange will rhyme with something
With pith under my finger nails
You interrupt, rebuff, regale
You said you know that I'm waiting for you
It seems the radio concurs
The DJ spins 'Venus in Furs'
As you amuse yourself to cure me
While that's less quote, more paraphrase
And now it's weeks instead of days
But you still get to stay equivocal
I'm feeling far too old to care
'Bout books and covers, pith and hair
So I'll just take it out on poetry
Apr 30, 2015
Apr 30, 2015 at 5:30 PM UTC
Born was I, in Illinois
Daddy thought, his little boy
My true self forced forever to hide
Feelings inside could not be denied
Daddy lost not thru death but rejection
Failed to live up to his expectation
Seething anger made me blind
Vowed never to look behind
Brokenhearted by his rebuff
Made my way resolved to be tough
Never could forgive him for my pain
Never to see my Daddy again
April the first, Daddy died
No one more surprised than I
When at his deathbed I cried
Daddy hooked up to tubes and wires
No longer could hold anger's fires
This is the moment we must seize
Daddy, forgive and love me please
He took my hand and gave a squeeze
Daddy's Little Girl I wanted to be
Twenty minutes was all the time had we
Dec 4, 2016
Dec 4, 2016 at 7:18 PM UTC
After all this time, the rain has come again
soybeans bursting in the pod, dry brown fields.
The lake as low as it has ever been
clouds pass, thin wisps, withholding all they wield.
We too have dried, mere husks, once plangent
await cadences, intimacy's desires.
A chair rests on a deck, first child's salient
artifact of family life once resonant.
Not first love, but founded in maturity
enough, perhaps, to defy time's ravages.
Embarked with proclaimed mutual surety
to weather all a life's uncertain passages.
But, for now, we tender loves rebuff
and find the rain must prove to be enough.
Oct 8, 2011
Oct 8, 2011 at 1:53 PM UTC
Poets are writers of infinite truths
Shamanistic travelers exposing fear
Paper and pen prophets rousing the obtuse
Quasi-harbingers of new frontiers
Politicians and their paid speechwriters
Lifetime career prostitutes of lies
Cyrano de Bergerac shysters
Writing pledges they will deny
Poetic outlaws of verse redefining
Societal boundaries of acceptance
Brigands of rhyme rocking the boat
Poems with intended disturbance
Every society needs outlaws
Rebuff the system
Fight back
Or
Withdraw
Feb 22, 2014
Feb 22, 2014 at 11:44 AM UTC
Maybe I'll clean up my act, just to be good. It did give Shaun the chance to look deeply and most mournfully (nicely empathetic) into my eyes once upon a time ages ago...
(sonnet #MMMMMCMLXXIX)
I'll wear my heart upon this sleeve in pale
Excuse as oft as suits my fancy, whence
Ye all kin chide to no avail from hence,
Whiles I rebuff aught notions in betrayl
Of better sense, cuz nothing here is bail.
Or if some fragile thought seems vague defense,
Tis vanquished ere I've managed to gain thence
A foothold, and I'll be thus stripped and frail.
Ah, love. Do thou but tempt me with the poor
Suggestion, ye kin laugh 'til ye are blue,
I'm prey, tears dried until tis proven fer
Whatever that twas aye, a jest. I'll rue
Me folly, cherry-cheeked, and pray whiles your
Much wiser sense erm, coughs. And yes, I knew.
20Oct16
Oct 23, 2016
Oct 23, 2016 at 9:53 PM UTC
a rapport of longstanding, e'er they are linked
a rapport of longstanding, e'er they are linked
she and he so in love, yet to the world they rebuff the fact
she and he so in love, yet to the world they rebuff the fact
e'er they are linked, yet to the world they rebuff the fact
a rapport of longstanding, she and he so in love
they use a ruse, all is out in the open
they use a ruse, all is out in the open
Dave has worked it out, cognizant of the clues
Dave has worked it out, cognizant of the clues
all is out in the open, cognizant of the clues
Dave has worked it out, they use a ruse
will they ever come clean, show the verification deed
will they ever come clean, show the verification deed
it's so obvious, deep and abiding their fondness
it's so obvious, deep and abiding their fondness
it's so obvious, show the verification deed
will they ever come clean, deep and abiding their fondness
they use a ruse, Dave has worked it out
a rapport of longstanding, it's so obvious
all is out in the open, she and he so in love
yet to the world they rebuff the fact, will they ever come clean
deep and abiding their fondness, cognizant of the clues
show the verification deed, e'er they are linked
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 7:35 AM UTC
SO PRIKETH HEM NATURE IN HIR CORAGES
Never did
help my Da enough.
Always
head-stuck-in-a-book.
"Donall son..."he call
"Can you hold this while
...I saw.!"
"Awwww Da!"
I'd wail.
Me lost in Chaucer
and his tale.
And so the saw saws
but all I see is..."Yo!"
"The Miller was a chap of sixteen stone,
A great stout fellow big in brawn and bone.
The saw cuts through the afternoon.
Pauses: then....chaw chaw
Chaucers on again.
"He did well out of them, for he could go
And win the ram at any wrestling show."
"Say what...?
Oh, don't get me
wrong I
adored the aesthetic beauty of
sawdust floating
in a universe of its own
suspended in sunlight and shadow.
The smell of pine
kidnapping my mind.
The green dance of the bubble
in a spirit level.
Didn't have time for all that
hammering and sawing.
I was a boy on a mission
ever since our teacher sighing
"Oh I...don't know why I
teach you scruff Chaucer
...you'll never read the book!"
But by the weekend
( furious at the rebuff )
I( ha ha)HAD!
My poor auld Da
only getting begrudging help.
"Whan that Aprille..."
( the words falling like gentle rain upon my mind )
"...with his shoures soote
the droghte of Marche..."
(Words words oh sweet words. . .)
"hath perced to the roote"
(My mind. . .)
"...bathed every veyne in swich licour,"
(the bubble in the spirit level
poised perfectly...perfectly poised)
"Of which vertu engendred is the flour."
Nov 2, 2016
Nov 2, 2016 at 5:29 PM UTC
Where conflicting strength forms sadness
there I find my inner child,
as the myth gives way to madness
and I find myself reviled.
If the truth is just a mystery
and the lies are bare and plain
then the fiction of our history
slowly drives us all insane.
Now the small hands form hereafter
and the politicians sleep,
there is silence in their laughter
while the rest of us just weep.
Bombs **** strangers and **** brothers
but WAR never brings us peace.
Born as fighters not as lovers,
now the bloodshed will not cease.
I see hunger in their dark eyes.
I know disease fills their veins.
Form a superficial disguise
act like you don't see their pains.
Teachers decide what we all think;
Preachers teach but what they know.
We are chains that can't form a link
and this life is but a show.
Breathing air from under water
drinking clouds of acid rain,
Earth is mother nature's daughter
and humanity its stain.
Here a dollar buys existence
but mankind is still too cheap,
so no one offers their assistance
and of faith there is no leap.
Never trusting, always searching,
wanting more but not enough:
In the darkness evil lurching
but all goodness we rebuff.
Then this life crawls into evening,
we lie in waiting for the morn'
for as daylight comes we're leaving,
but with death new life is born.
Jul 4, 2012
Jul 4, 2012 at 4:03 AM UTC
bluntly, you said:
no. (reject)
no. (refuse)
no. (rebuff)
and my whole body
felt like rehab.
(cheers, mrs. winehouse!)
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 1:37 PM UTC
remember when
you fought to live
fought for our rights
freedom to give
remember when
out at sea
strong waves lashing
courage to be
a warrior fighting
for fellow man
keeping together
our selfish clan
fighting for
our right to be
our right to choices
right to be free
now to honor
your day at last
is it enough?
remembrance past?
I shall give you
every day
my past my future
in every way
I give you thanks
and all respect
every day
and somehow yet
I know that this
is not enough
you fought the war
with much rebuff
all the freedoms
I enjoy
the soldier grew
from a small boy
born to protect
and born to serve
perhaps it's more
than I deserve
Nov 8, 2013
Nov 8, 2013 at 9:47 AM UTC
If I can touch the heart and soul
of just one questing mind;
respond unto impassioned call
of questions unrefined,
then shall my feeble efforts be
rewarded quite enough,
and force my inner doubt to flee
without fear of rebuff.
If I have brought the regiment
of inner doubt or fear,
to rage or hate or merriment
by words that I hold dear
Then I may finally reveal
what held me in distress
and I may come at last to feel
an undeserved bliss.
Aug 25, 2015
Aug 25, 2015 at 6:48 PM UTC
My life is poetry and yours is prose
I can mean things nobody knows
All hidden away in my sweet sharp mind
A thousand guesses are guessed just fine
But they read you better all straight and clear
There's no scheming with rhyme all messy and queer
Though I'm simple enough to decipher and see
For minds majorly lazy nor dullards ain't free
Away, I sit where old red roses bloom
Alone, burning minutes this afternoon
My tears are stuck behind my eyes
This bitter beauty beneath grime disguised
Fumbling around while fair skin bakes
The city is quiet now, make no mistake
I think awhile and then go to wander on
These roses belong to all and so to none
One cool jet of water tries to pass for a fountain
A man in short shorts strides by unaccounted
Laughing at how I’m besotted with my own malaise
I must remind myself that a poet’s task is to praise
But it’s terribly hard to make shields without sarcasm
And loopy concerns will throw wise men toward spasms
It’s almost better to float through hydrocodone dreams wide awake
Than to sing futilely of sand and flights and smiles felt not faked
For this insult to suffering can’t end quickly enough
And the Suessical rhythm leaves much to rebuff
Despite luxurious lucidity the inconsequence falls on
Until next year’s parade and hope of less scorching suns
Because I’m not like the roses I’m not like the water
I’m not like the dude whose shorts won’t go farther
Maybe you’ll realize finally after thrice the **** crows
That my life is poetry but yours is, darling, still prose.
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 1:49 AM UTC
seamlessly shifting to future planning
scuttlebutts rebuff fluffernutter sandwiches
for something a little more… sophisticated
grease coated floatation device
slices dried mice precisely
clandestine militants throw rice
at the merger of church and state
hate groups **** on social norms
******* the truck drivers for ****
in rest area bathrooms –
doom laden maidens raid
safe houses set up by underpaid feds
wretched and withdrawn, occupants pant
sweltering heat defeats all who enter
and the centrists flinch as both wings fling scented mud clods –
the gods of old sit on high watching the unfolding drama
three llamas graze peacefully on a Peruvian hillside
tide breaks shake useless dunes
and ruined looms sit broken
reminding the aged
of a non-mechanized life –
Jan 13, 2015
Jan 13, 2015 at 12:35 PM UTC
Balanced at this point of time,
Fractious as the case may be
Cautioned as to why we men
Most unctiously, cross women flee.
Brought to heel by subtle stare
Insinuation lingering there,
Caught out short by razored phrase
Abruptly severing…outrage,
Castigated without word
Rendering rebuff absurd.
Yet born to kiss and stroke the brow
But ultimately lost, somehow,
That give and take,(with **** smile)
Demolished slow in time’s worn guile,
Angelic then, in evening light
Extinguished now with tension tight.
Standoff in the cold of dawn
Sees all affection now withdrawn.
Balanced at this point in time
An utter need to kick the dog
Retreat to haven’s dark tool shed
To mutter hurt and swallow grog.
M.
Composed, (with tongue in cheek), for a poor weak ****** who quickly saw his Heaven on Earth become Hell.
23 February 2017
HAMILTON NZ
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 11:31 PM UTC
Listen up, caviling charlatans.
Forgo the sporadic rebuff,
luminous is the dark
and shaded is the light,
the path to endless days.
If the vagabond's respite
is fraught with retribution,
why continue in shambles,
instead, covet his ways.
Don't lament the shadows,
cry for illuming rays.
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
Oh, how the brave do fall, when the furls of power sprawl to cover all.
Simple joys of life unbound scatter along the sullied ground, there to be unfound and kicked around.
Oh how their beauties fade, when never have they paid for that which made the lives in which they parade.
The toils of love can never rise above the pride that has never seen the shove of a painful rebuff.
How do we repair this harmful error, when so long it finds its heir both here and there?
Never can they change to lives full of range that they find strange, and relax in its fangs.
So glory to the just, who shutter from the dust, exactly as they must, to find the things they distrust and move in spite of these painful thrusts.
It is these pains which goad us on, in these we find our song to move along and trust that which breaks the bonds to these drugs we’re on.
So, I tell you now, find how this world tries to tie you down, then break the walls which crowd until they lay on the ground,
And in this you shall be free, to live the life which you see and find your eternity in all that comes to be.
Apr 16, 2014
Apr 16, 2014 at 9:34 AM UTC
Why is it that the people,
I wish to talk to the most,
are always the quickest,
to rebuff my advances?
Am I not good enough?
Is there a flaw that I can't see?
I guess that when it comes to flaws,
I have learned not to see them.
Maybe you were hurt.
Maybe is was so bad that you
have lost the ability to Love unconditionally.
But I can't see your pain because you hide it so well.
All I ask, is for a *****
in your impenetrable armor.
That way I might be able to
better understand your gearing.
Perhaps I would be able to
shed a ray of guiding light
on your ashen soul.
I don't know if it is worth my time.
Rest assured, that I will try.
I will give it my all.
I will not fail you in your time of need.
I will be perfect.
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 12:22 AM UTC
I’ve always been
Of the mindset
Anything That
becomes prevalent
becomes diminished.
I’ve earmark my stamina
For allocating love and
Remolding the monocles
Of a culture that glorify itself
On being barbarian and unstained
I want to be that rare healing
Salve that when I write
The hearts and minds
Of others are soothed and healed
I’ve noticed, it’s increasingly
difficult to stride through life
Without enduring battle wounds
From disappointment , failure
Crisis , judgment and brokenness .
I rebuff to be a prevalent setting
Rather a squishy and mending spot
That sits with the broken , sees them
Mend and help them rise through
My expression of love.
Jul 23, 2018
Jul 23, 2018 at 5:18 PM UTC
Distance from resistance
Missed shifts in risk persistent
When I'm remiss in the kisses of listed insistence
Your confidence wishes assistance
in the blissful existence
of
Any preexisting feelings
amiss of desistance
You lock you load the slock to hold
Secure and compound the slur to hound
The insecure, the bound
The insincere and the frowned
Until
Your blow quells the next risk
Swollen from a deft fist
Stolen by a neck twist
Beholden to your inner drift at the mirrored wrists
Of the monster betwixt this fixed rift of our mix
The signs won't unwind in your mind
They can't hide what's behind a sombre face unlined and undefined by your take on this time
Let's realign it
Let's redesign it
Let the lock smash with a rash motion borne of flashed emotion
Torn from some shared idyllic notion
Of a presupposition for mutual commotion
Or even of a genuine devotion
Give me the whole of the role of shrouding your soul
Or the hole for which it was sold
I will mould the folds and hold back the cold
With my own old extolled blindfold
Good enough?
Should be tough
No rebuff
Could be
Maybe
- love?
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 9:02 AM UTC