"recanting" poems
They say it's a free world and I have the freedom to speak my mind.
I see people on television recanting their lines, reporter's at the door and offenders peeping through the blinds.
If speech is free then why do I have to pay?
When someone takes offense to the words I say.
Now this doesn't sound like freedom to me....more like selective or should I say controlled
shutting my voice down like a person on hold....
When I say what I feel, it becomes a problem.
Funny thing is......resigning or being fired appears to solve them.
Why is it insubordination when i'm using my right that is freely given.....not by man, but the One who has risen.
Although, they are free to say whatever they please.....
meanwhile...am I really supposed to smile and say "cheese?" ......when I feel like spewing a few obscenities.
I've been given a write up and I have a meeting with H.R.....
They are only referred to by letters because no one knows who they are.
My Facebook has offended many and my Twitter too.....let's not mention Tumblr ....that's a bit much to chew...
Where the Hell is the freedom of speech I'm entitled to?
No freedom online, offline, not even while I'm standing in line.
Some female telling me off because I said something about her behind.
She was fine, but had on see through .....I'm checking her out...because you know how guys do.
Now my freedom of speech is put on delay, because I can't express what my mind really wants to say:
Lovely lady your looking good with more cake than a baker, skin brown like bronze....precious for sure....I don't mind your company...I'm not expecting anything more. You display a touch of cool....thumbs up like the Fonz.....
I want to take you home and shine you up like chrome. I'm on my Macaulay Caulkin....I have you home alone.
The teller says "Hello sir and is that all?" snapped out of my fantasy and sadly disgusted.
When they say freedom of speech those words can't be trusted.
I've learned that nothing is free when it comes to man....although freedom can be purchased, so allow the money to secretly fall into my hands.
"Freedom of speech.....It's not really free at all."
Oct 26, 2012
Oct 26, 2012 at 2:21 PM UTC
Idyllic sensations of fingertips gliding across unspoiled flesh
Kisses fill in the gaps left by words unspoken
Bright eyes meet and exchange heavy glances of infatuation
Souls clinging to the inexperienced adoration, praying it stays fresh
The luxury of hearts yet to be broken
Blooming lust like budding carnations
Petals flittering about in cold springtime sun
Flippant and apathetic about what the future holds
Never expecting to be crushed under the boot of a world-weary passerby
Despite pressure to crumble apart, the petals cling together until their lives together are done
The heavy feeling of eyes cast upon young lovers, bystanders recanting the most terrible scolds
Are no match for star-crossed lovers, too entangled in emotions to be pulled apart by outside forces, and too far gone to say goodbye.
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 11:36 PM UTC
expect digression, misspelling,
self-formed words. and for this
to be a long one, therefore not
worth reading.
ten hours, but of awakening for
twenty or so. drinking wine from
bottle to gauge consumption, but
also because that's how one
should show how much of a classy
************ they are. drinking
and re-reading, the prior being
some kinda sin for a writer.
of Hemginway:
'Write drunk, edit sober.'
rules worth breaking and many
a lack of luck permeates. and
this one writes for you. canvas-
flapped this loss of arm. that's
a prior reference, by the way.
he was ruined of them; ruined
a curse propagation brought him.
to rise and wage however a
******* could, yet that however
brought an end in entirety. and
after a summer sweating, and
after a once and always absol-
ution of this winter madness.
(the only cure has ever been
isolation and deprecation)
always fleet-footed in the stressed
moments of the everyday. and
writing here, writing of this the
last few pages, expressioned in
particular voice. recanting
never these sacred art, defending
never the choices made nor whims
of soul or vessel. and breaking, and
influenced - to cite the adjective of
'inspired' - this phonetic will ounces
out restrained. restrained. next line.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 11:44 AM UTC
at first
youre okay with it.
push off, men;
the grog swigs sweet.
swimming, seasick
sloshing from can
to canteen
you should have stayed on shore
not left it.
she saw your slurring
through white-tailed eyes.
her top popped off
with the crack and rush
you know.
you gulped it down.
our only resistance
residue from cans
coming in drops
we
should
not
have
done
that
leaving in puddles
soaking your socks
you should have peeled off the wet
not stand in it.
she saw your recanting
through chopped-onion eyes.
her thoughts popped off
with the snap and blush
you wish you didnt know
you swallowed a howl.
her only insistence
how could you
you should have stopped her.
at last
youre only okay with it.
**** off, man;
the sounds sting, screech.
fiending, seasoned
coughing up mistakes
and headaches
you should have eaten lunch
not imbibed it.
Nov 16, 2012
Nov 16, 2012 at 5:12 AM UTC
her words laid out before
me like a feast of the fanciful mind
and her inner demons like ravens of the soiled soul
hold themselves at the ready with wary eyes
her words spill in slow honey
smooth on the minds tongue
and leaves an aftertaste like mull wine
leaves one lightheaded and without inhibition
i become a drunkard of her thought
forever lounging near her lips in my mind
waiting for the intoxications to begin
my own words come like the unshaven behemoth
like the fair maidens foul brother
my conversation a meal with dance of the clumsy attempt
each step has a sticky note of scrawled apology attached
like new lovers trying too hard
being overly tender with eachothers words
her heart has spoken its mind
and she feels childish recanting its
written in stone meanings
so she follows
silently behind with her head hanging low
trying to be picture perfect
in the pliant girlfriend role
the inner demons like ravens of my own soiled soul
each moment spent like a misers coin
harpie fingers oiled grip
on the narrow metal
slipping ever so slowly past the eye
each day i sit here and watch as the sun settles
like dust onto the deadpan horizon
each day i pray fervently that i find
a better phrase than the one i live
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 7:18 AM UTC
we never want to see
our child die before us
and we still pray to precede them
after seeing them die many times
*****
you've died right before my eyes
too many times for me to count
God knows i wasn't prepared this time
to see that glazed look in your eyes
with lids that i couldn't close
as they slammed upon tears that fell like stone
crashing upon brittle locks
that shattered like illusions installed
to protect my little girl from a ******
weakened by a familiar predator
that God knew long before
we ever joined to color by numbers
each recanting of you being pushed down
then smothered by the dead weight of ****
started a death rattle so pronounced
that i reached out to leave with you
God knows we will make it through this
as you psychologically pass from me once again
to mourn aside a grave marked for this event
on the eve of the sunrise of your empowerment.
Nov 24, 2012
Nov 24, 2012 at 3:57 PM UTC
My mind is extraordinary,
It has the power to erase history,
I cannot remember that time at the park,
I cannot recall what you said in the dark.
Perhaps it is my choice,
To forget your annoying voice,
Recanting the past is completely unnecessary,
When you live in the present, you’ve no burdens to carry.
Jul 27, 2012
Jul 27, 2012 at 3:35 PM UTC
My insecurities often scream louder
than the little voice inside of me.
Broadcasting and blasting out of stylish speakers
for all the boys and girls to see.
I've been held down,
by demons with travelling cloaks,
woven with invisible tapestry
clutched about their throats.
So to remove the words
I have so carefully purged
out my enigmatic system,
the ones caught and stuck inside my chest
with unusual strength and mysticism.
I took my hand,
jammed it deep down through my mouth
gagged on my fore fingers a second longer
in order to drag them out.
The vile words,
drowning in biled verse,
I drug them out through dreary space
and hung them with my shirts
I aired out days before.
The score of the fight
lies not in the aired out and forgotten,
but in the formations of tones
and phonetic clones
tangled in my web of rotten
sceptical insinuations.
Indelible infractions,
and taking back my sinful actions
are recanting hate, dispelling fate
burning holes within my reactions.
They've altered my vision,
long blurring scenes of scattered days
glass nails shattered in iron blenders
banishing frantic forays.
I've found it easier, less chaotic
to accept instances where I've felt at home.
I've come to enjoy devilish voices when I've lost it
because at least then, I'm not alone.
Jul 18, 2014
Jul 18, 2014 at 4:57 PM UTC
See the sky,
it's burning green,
Recanting the tale of the eyesore,
It's invading the skyline.
A newly created tower of Babel,
where none can speak our mother tongue.
Some won't listen anyway.
The authorities,
those powers that be,
painted my skyline,
with a blaze of green,
and somewhat sickly yellow.
Jeopardized my locality,
Played. a dodgy game of risk.
Community spirit evaporates,
as big fish businesses,
digest all the little fish,
Within in the happy village,
a.k.a metropolis.
It's happening everywhere you see.
Through powdered eyes scratched,
Itchy and dry,
by construction,
big builders,
the pus,
the toxic grip.
The scourge on the skyline,
Stolen my space,
obliterating garden view.
If the choice were mine,
I'd dress the
sky with decadence,
with stars,
not stripes of colour ,
Give the council options,
Give them half a chance,
they'll build upon our forest hills.
(C) Livvi
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 5:01 AM UTC
When it's over
And you have
All but moved on
You change my plans.
Recanting every word
And every bruise.
Your tune changes
Faster than the song ends
And I am caught
Like a fly in your web.
Here's to our familiar suffering.
Let it begin again.
Jul 9, 2017
Jul 9, 2017 at 4:33 AM UTC
I fell asleep
Woke up to tears.
Abandonded our plans
Champagne and beers.
Im sorry I messed up
Im sorry If I had you recanting
All those worries and fears.
50 hours a week, baby
26 OZ's a day
Im not sadistic
Im just a **** up maybe
But I want you to stay;
To be my lady
Feb 11, 2018
Feb 11, 2018 at 9:04 AM UTC
I watched everything I loved about you dissolve,
Sitting alone through time while my flesh did crawl,
Of all things in this world left sacred,
I suffered your recanting without such merit,
I despise everything that you've since done,
And what hurts more is what I've become,
Suffice it to say, I am no more,
You've naught for me, decayed, you adorn.
May 14, 2014
May 14, 2014 at 3:23 AM UTC
To my dearest darling Joe
I had to let you know of fun that we have had on our latest holiday, I know you would get such a kick out of the tales we have to tell.
It was a last minute all inclusive deal, we set out with Sue and Steve for some late autumn sun to Zante the Greek island of fun.
Oh Joe I cannot tell you the colour of the seas, so clear so blue I can't do them justice, if you could see a picture it may be a start but in theses seas you can see to the bottom and the sand is white and dark.
No seaweed in sight nor turtles too, it's too late this time of year but olive trees and lemon, lime, oranges and grapefruit are everywhere and handy for a bite, that's right I put my hand up and plucked an orange from the tree, oh Joe your mouth would explode, it tasted so divine.
The people are oh so friendly and they make it very clear that the sun in the sky is unusual at this time of year.
We hired a car and drove into the mountains and dropped down to a port, hired a boat and they took us to shipwreck cove, where some years ago a boat had shipwrecked and it's cargo cleared the sea, we swam and dived in the clear blue sea underneath clear blue sky, oh and some people were tightroping across the ravine, I'm afraid I didn't have the courage to join them in the sky but I lied down and watched them heroically cross from end to end.
We've eaten traditional food and drank traditional ***** and used the traditional loos, do you remember the ones in the south of France that mum and I refused to use, we'll these were exactly the same. We've laughed and cried recanting tales of days goneby.
It really has been delightful a holiday to remember, one I wish I could tell you all about, I know you would sit and laugh with me as I retell the fabulous holiday we have had to catch some sun on the Greek island of fun, Zante.
I love you Joe **
Oct 20, 2017
Oct 20, 2017 at 12:19 PM UTC
these words I know to be true.
we are but stars
shining quite different,
yet somehow the same.
where were you?
last night.
when I was calling your name.
and who am I to blame?
for this constant torture,
this particular pain.
my heart, does not follow
a transparent weather vein.
I know these notions to be true.
for this is my world,
and through me, you'll see,
a whole new shade of blue.
brighter than any sky,
yet still saddening,
still maddening.
I often refrain from recanting
my time with you.
each day praying, I'd become
someone new.
this queer life style
is the safest thing I could find.
and I sure hope you don't mind,
the fact that I bind.
you COULD certainly win me over
because YOU KNOW that I'm about
as lucky as a three leaf clover,
and about as melodramatic
as day-time television.
but then,
I guess it would be to assume
that I've grown quite fond of you.
and I don't know...
maybe you'll find this charming.
or maybe not.
it's just a thought.
I'm just throwing this out there.
with these last few seconds,
to spare.
I bid you adieu with some confusion. if this lust is truly an allusion,
just like the colour of the sky.
I'd like to remain idle near by.
to see what might come of this.
how we might change and grow,
with this.
for I speak these words in truce.
let us forfeit our sanity together.
it might not be so bad to let myself be here,
to be present
with you
these words I know to be true.
Mar 4, 2016
Mar 4, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC