"refuted" poems
**** it"
no
I refuted
I said,
"Bless it"
The world is enough a hell to be ******
Why curse it further?
Apr 24, 2018
Apr 24, 2018 at 8:40 PM UTC
The Physics of Love: The Equivalency Fallacy
the poet places his Sunday porcelain coffee mug
upon his bare chest, purposed to heat the heart to a
higher degree, equal to hers, next door, three feet away,
in their communal bed
two identical alarm clocks, one on each nightstand,
confirms the degree differential, for far beyond time-telling,
it informs on me, providing the room temperature,
and her side of the bed, 5 degrees warmer
the collegial scientists posit theoretical excuses,
the rooms wind currents, proximity to the A/C, body mass,
all refuted after visual and mechanical inspection,
all indelible proofs of the Equivalency Fallacy
despite the visual evidence abounding all around,
despite the surrounding starlike quantity of busted,
love songs, poems and the other artistic churn,
depicting the principle, one requires love physics to validate the
living principle for the living, that love is rarely identical
in quantitative quality, typology, representation and
manifestations measurable
each greets the other with morning declarations of
mutuality, trying to find those hundred different ways
to love her/him today, employing imaginative artifice to proof
the impossibility, that in every aspect your living love ability
is precious capital precision equal
and ha! each love is the greater...
you knew this?
then you knew, his coffee spills (intentionally?) and the
Fighting Fallacy rules,
every thing is fair in love and war, for they too, are
identical and equal, in so many ways,
but never quantifiable exactly
8:33am, 73 degrees, on my side
11/12/17
Nov 12, 2017
Nov 12, 2017 at 8:45 AM UTC
Before the thaw, my feet will be rooted
Into this nation’s primordial freeze
My muscles and bones will be acquainted with malaise
The sun’s altruism will be refuted
Before the thaw, I will struggle to find consciousness
The frost will leak through the bedroom window
And don the facade of a blanket
The door will prove to be bottomless
Possibilities will seem unachievable
The brain will itch for what it can not have
Buses will limp through congestion
And the blizzards may feast on the feeble
You may want to write of your misery
But your automation will halt in cataclysm
Because someone held a door open
For the gust that billows bitterly
Gastric emissions will become tangible
As smouldering wastes contrast against the sky with rancour
The wispy whites, marginalized into *****
And the world remains infallible
I will lack the tools of incision
To enact my life’s revisions
I will weep for my unguided millions
While I saunter into oblivion
After the thaw, I will smile
My expatriate soul will run in the whimsical wind
Of the morning dayspring that will march unto me
I will stand over a kingdom of honey-filled tiles
After the thaw, the arks will converge
Into the straits of the Bermudian Sea and the
Elusive Caspian Forest, where I will learn to love again
While bidding farewell to winter’s dirge
In the waking world, I will ***** a limestone castle
Where entropy will rule and the mind’s domain
Is left susceptible to perennial reverence
The sea, coloured true, nesting a fairgrounds vessel
In this Great Revision, gargantuan skyways
Will show the world how exiguous we are
That we must not wait for exodus to come
Should we fear to waste away
Into icebergs
Dec 3, 2018
Dec 3, 2018 at 5:35 PM UTC
My mind offers a compromise
Which is instantly refuted
Shot down
I’m absolutely amazed by the sheer
Number of superficial constraints placed
Upon me, my superstitions, my desires, my obligations
Each one currently impossibly to fulfill
Each side impossible to sait
And so,
A stalemate
Sitting here, doing nothing
Unmoving, but
Thoughts whirling about
Fidget spinners, or
Bablades repeatedly clashing
Repeatedly smashing
Till it’s just me and the broken debre
But,
All you see
Is a girl
Too lazy to move
Jan 1, 2019
Jan 1, 2019 at 7:45 PM UTC
Dear Rosie
I wonder, what kind of black woman are you?
Because as we discussed various -isms, you refuted your womanism, you refuted racism, you refuted sexism. You are "Rosie"
Dear Rosie
I want to know where you come from. Who taught you to tear down women that look like you, that came from a black woman's womb just as you did. Where did you learn to silence us in that confused mind of yours where you said our opinions irritate you and are worthless to your education?
Dearest Rosie
Tell me how the oppressed became the oppressor. Because as I look at your dark chocolate skin I am curious what you see when you look in the mirror. A reflection of privileged whiteness? You say oppression does not matter. You asks for facts. Well, statistics show us that people that look like you are dying whether you acknowledge your blackness or not. Women like you are being silenced and underrepresented in the public sphere regardless if you take it for face value. Women like us have lost sons to officers, husbands to cells, brothers to jails.
Dear Rosie
Wake the **** up. Each time you slice our tongues from the black reality that black women may not matter as much as they do in this safe space, each time you preach of your humanist kumbaya resolution that separates us from race gender and sexuality, each time you say our opinions do not matter, they win. The system wins. Because they'll use some token like you to represent our mass majority and say "She agrees with us so all black people do too." I refuse to be represented by a peer that denounces my womanism, my feminism, my black nationalism because it's not white enough for her (black) skin.
Not inclusive enough to a white population that has excluded people like me for centuries. It is not my duty to make some ************ feel comfortable with my blackness ,to relieve them of guilt when they've perpetuated guilt on me because of my blackness.
Dear Rosie.
Don't let them win.
Oct 24, 2014
Oct 24, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
I jumped so far
Knowing I would hit the pavement
I swam out to sea
Knowing I would drown in misery
I leapt into space and time
Knowing there is no air, I will suffocate
I believed false promises
Ones so easily refuted, forgotten
Love shut off just like that, how quaint
Like a game of bowling
I am the pins
I set myself up to be knocked down
But I never thought you would throw the ball
Or actually I did but I soaked in denial
Ball came rolling fast, unstoppable, fierce
So yes I shattered into the pavement
I felt water fill my lungs as my vision darkened
I suffocated in the vacuum of space, surrounded by darkening stars
I set myself up to be destroyed
If I put the pieces back together perhaps I may learn
That words mean so little these days
My mind is logical
I now follow it to the end
Dec 7, 2012
Dec 7, 2012 at 11:57 AM UTC
aggression must be denied.
****** Pol *** The Duke,
Kim Jong, Mugabe, Fidel Castro,
Saparmurat Niyazov,
the living bad the dead.
XiJinping
proudly announces in
November 2013,
the year of our lord,
they are doing away with
labor camps in China.
******** total,
renamed them
drug rehabilitation centers.
evil must be refuted.
who will call them out?
not us.
coming home from the opera,
some big **** SUV,
played chicken
with me.
I refused to let
him cut in the line.
He followed me
for ten blocks,
honking his *******
till he quit,
cause I would not give
the satisfaction of letting him
spit and sputter.
Took the woman home.
Went out looking for him.
searched hundred blocks.
found him, took out my jack.
(trust me I did not key his car).
when he saw what I had done,
I quoted him Verdi's Rigoletto:
He is crime, I am punishment.
you see opera ain't for *******
aggression must be denied
locally, before it becomes
a national treasure.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 4:23 AM UTC
Alone in a room,
Music slowly plays,
Songs of loneliness,
Songs of loss,
Yet songs of love.
Concealed in darkness,
Retreating from reality.
Every strums of the guitar,
Pulling me deeper and deeper
away
My eyelids close,
Allowing a tear out,
In darkness,
In blindness,
A disoriented, dark, slowly fading light, shines on.
A beacon of hope and sorrow,
Alone in the room.
Concealment in the dark
Quiet screams for help.
Life sure is a mystery...
One whistle of a wind,
I am on top of the world,
One drop of rain,
I am in a room concealed by dark.
The light shines in a dark room resistant,
Yet so futile.
A knock on the door remains ignored,
A child, once afraid of the dark, embraces it's warm concealment.
Absolute quiet as the guitar continues to strum.
Songs, oh the songs.
The sweet melodies.
Words that taste like nectar.
Notes that speaks to the very soul.
Just for one moment,
A song makes sense.
Nonsense becomes reality.
Have I finally gone mad?
Have I refuted reality?
My heart becomes darker and colder.
Yet I embrace it.
Slipping away
The knock becomes more anxious.
A voice pleading.
Slipping
Gone into the concealing darkness
The beacon of hope turns off.
The Lonely Light dies out,
The room is left dark.
Nothing to disturb this peace.
Pitch black and quiet.
Warm and alone in this room.
A Single Wish.
Slipping Away
Into Infinite Concealment of a Blank Room.
The door swings opens,
Shining the light of reality into the room,
Disturbing the sacred peace of the darkness.
But I am already gone.
Slipped Away To A Better World
May 18, 2013
May 18, 2013 at 11:31 PM UTC
The send and receive signal is blinking,
And the single mind is syncing to the altered pose of the twinkling stars above,
Via the screen and LED beams that stream into the seams of your consciousness.
Your brain is blessed,
Yet lacks the zest of wisdom once residing in your soul;
Outdated like coal, the role of the toll booth is old and invalid,
Like the side-dish of salad,
Replaced by the rancid infection of fast food,
What a bad mood society must be in.
You may die of respiratory inefficiency,
But you've got me to inform your next of kin.
You're not as blind as I would like you to be,
Yet you don't see as clearly as is necessary,
So I'm wary of your willful ignorance, as it's frightening and malignant,
Yet the signals sent don't pay my rent so I vent by waiting on Clark Kent to save the day,
He's on his way, right, Sir Gawain? Right, brave knight? Sir knight? Am I right?
Irrelevant,
So, for the hell of it,
I descend into a hedonistic viewpoint stuck in a pit,
Of what I call economically unsound wit;
Perhaps a writ of notice regarding my upcoming eviction,
They punish those who find pleasure in a lack of plight,
and claim their sanity is out of sight;
Well, **** you too,
I'll stage a coup so you can be you, through and through.
Please, freedom;
I need you to unlock the cages at this human zoo,
Because the free of us are too few,
And the few of us are who?
Speak up.
For the love not of God, but of life, speak up.
May 16, 2011
May 16, 2011 at 4:11 PM UTC
Admetus swallowed the sun.
His throat was raw, tongue heavy with words.
Words of praise, of worship,
but the sun refuted him.
His light was dimmed,
hidden by dirt and muck, things he chose.
He seemed more human than God,
and Admetus loved him for it.
Still, the sun shows affection by shining brightly.
He glinted off coins, off crown, off sparkling seas.
He crested the horizon, casting shadows.
He shone on Admetus,
illuminating,
reflecting the deep bronze of his skin,
the curve of his spine,
the length of his fingers,
the line of his waist,
the tip of his tongue as it passed his lips,
the shadow of hair on his jaw,
the ridge of his calf.
He seemed more God than human,
and the sun loved him for it.
He fought for Admetus,
gave him all he wanted,
and took what he too desired.
But still, the sun is eternal.
Man is finite.
The sun shone on Admetus for as long as he could,
longer than he should have,
stealing back time from the grasp of silver scissors.
But it was not enough.
And when Admetus’ time came,
the sun was dim.
The twilight fell upon the world,
and the darkness seemed to last for an eternity,
though it is not told in story or verse.
Admetus swallowed the sun,
his body warm,
his eyes bright,
his fingers spread.
And then the sun swallowed him whole.
Jan 27, 2016
Jan 27, 2016 at 11:48 PM UTC
Dig deep poet;
You too reader;
Commandment One:
Both must obsess to possess,
Air the curvature of each line
shape with two hands, creasing and
no ceasing not till the air waves have filled
your flushed face with compressed comprehensions
You weep as you compose!
Good!
The well of tears where hid
the pool of emotions
in cavernous reservoirs
in the center of your
gravity,
needs a daily tapping,
a draining, a purification,
a quenching sweet and
raucous
where you dig, salted water will come
in the soiled, imperial but imperfect body/mind cappuccino,
there are swirls of treasures, sins and histrionics
that need discovery, expiation, expulsion,
when~then, object is surgically removed,
accept surging water will desoil,
and you can revel
in the revelation
of honest effort
Debate Commencement:
reveal, which, what and how
much, how much? how much?
(this reverbs)
what must be shared,
what must be reburied,
what must be refuted,
what must be reconstructed,
refurbished,
and what must be
demolished & deconstructed
ah, but as soul judge,
you hold yourself to a higher standard,
but in all of this but two constraints rule:
the quality of the recalled data,
the quantity of storage space delimitation
do not tease us with rivulets, nor bury
us under thunderous rushes of memories
spilling and cresting with a reek of abandon,
unless, you’re abandoning the memory en tout,
giving us your newly orphaned all innermost,
then, we must accept the product of your labor,
whether it be spoiled fruit or glorious
truth
Tuesday Apr 16
8:32AM
(the year of pollard, a/k/a 2024)
Apr 18, 2024
Apr 18, 2024 at 8:51 AM UTC
I write words
which are guilty by association
a biased vanity
a weakened proclamation
a rhyming confession
vaguely detailed obsession
which preys upon my idle mind
occupying my excess time
if I could just
relish
this coffee scented existence
like Marley I won't wait in vain
my character was built
on inconsistent persistence
with all of my offenses
its no wonder you present such resistance
hesitance for an obvious reference
midnite will arrive on its own terms
may it come in waves
I'm emotionless and starved
hoping for the best and the rest is reality
its a stoic majestic bleak perspective
resplendence can't be bought with a sixpence
when innocence is subjective
acutely disputed and often refuted
everybody is down on their knees
echoes throughout empty halls
empty hearts exposed to loosely associated truths
and poorly conceived metaphors
a malcontent in mismatched boots
equally disinterested with
the feelings and good intentions
or any other invention of idle minds
Dec 14, 2012
Dec 14, 2012 at 11:21 AM UTC
Brexit means exit,
Brexit means exit.
It doesn’t mean:
Ignoring the masses who had their say,
Action replaced by incompetence and delay,
Having thirty-nine billion pounds to pay,
Giving our fishing waters away,
Compromising the borders of our precious UK,
Calls to vote again, the Brussels Mafia way,
Hope of a nation reduced to a faltering ray,
Democracy treated as if its had its day.
You promised,
You promised,
To implement what the people decided,
Those promises now watered down,
Refuted and then derided.
But most of all,
But most of all,
Mrs May,
Our vote to Leave,
Was definitely,
Was definitely,
Not a vote to stay!
Dec 23, 2018
Dec 23, 2018 at 2:40 AM UTC
Corporation bosses
Tossing the lost
Into the fist of jaws
Concentrations flossing
The reparation of old glory
Muted and refuted
I’m not joining the band
Just because he said
Yes we can
Apr 5, 2010
Apr 5, 2010 at 8:55 AM UTC
when the night plunged
darkness took me in its closet
i begin to vouch for the taste
my delights, my dreams
we've got nowhere to go
we've got no secrets
and i stand alone with solitary soul
its a consolation
where else you see real picture
the dusky shadows
and murky humor ..
it does not submersed me in its charm
neither voices
nor people..the happening
it never has..it never did
living in cracked life is a joy
pursuing myself
day by day- endless
to get what i lost
i thank heaven
for the mercy he bestowed me with
staying with me..in my worn out heart
it did mend..it did get widen
and the songs of my wonderings persist
without a desire to be heard or
to be understood
it was a solitary ride
about a soulful thought ..forgetful of any cares
they all turned out to be my weary companions
my the loyalist- the friendliest of all
i slowly took everything out of me
minute to minute..it profoundly wounded my affections
and pinched my soul; all my profane profanity stir up
I refuted with all my confessions; and made it be absent!!
Nov 17, 2014
Nov 17, 2014 at 6:07 PM UTC
This is the first and last time
that the moon and the planets will align
in such a shape.
At least, the last instance until the sun burns up.
You said "Look out your window."
I did. I looked out;
I blamed the window when I couldn't see it.
then I went outside
it was negative nine degrees
and my face was set to freeze
yet the moon remained hidden.
I drove to the end of the winding road
in the orange darkness
Even in the opening of the trees
there was no lunar disclosure,
no planetary apparitions
to soothe the frostbite I inflicted
when I stuck my head out of the sunroof window.
I never found what I sought
I feel robbed, violated
a sense of entitlement
(wrongly felt, I suppose).
Then again there is a guilt
when something is so beautiful
that there is an obligation to share it
but it was then refuted by the premature death
of this moon,
and by an acute tardiness
held tightly in a clenched fist.
Next time I promise not to miss something
so revolutionary
and sensitive to time.
It was fleeting,
we tried to catch and match it
like lining up squares of cloth to cut
"Isn't it funny how everyone is seeing
the same moon?"
Look out your window before it's too late,
drive until you can't feel your hands
or your face or really anything at all
and come back full of life.
Feb 20, 2015
Feb 20, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
Someone once asked me if it was worth saving the world from destruction.
I told them no, and they asked me why.
"It seems easier to remove the middle man."
The middleman, they asked?
"Yes, the middleman."
"If the end result of life is death, then life itself is just a false reality.
What matters most isn't the journey; its the speed to the destination.
If we're all here to reach an end-product of eventually becoming deceased...
Then why delay it any longer?"
In horror, my companion refuted me.
"That's true, but really, the only thing holding us back, is just a couple of
chemicals that tell us not to die. If those were gone, would we genuinely hold
back as a species?"
They told me the social ramifications of such a reality, where everyone would
reinforce that nature socially as a taboo.
"But then, you're just ignoring the question you posed! If the point is I have
the option to deny the world rebirth, and have them move on to where we would
go after life ceases, then I'd do it. Just end the facade."
Needless to say, I was true to my word, through and through.
Nov 26, 2017
Nov 26, 2017 at 4:26 PM UTC
Haters reaching out stretching hate to all they can put in a noose She's turning 80 and Love's Love and is willing to yield to the truth Regardless of a lifetime experience telling such and every authority, history book, politician, the clergy of clergy's lies their coverings rotting off thee untouchables of Love like Gold it's going to remain beyond ruse, deception and especially ones brain....... But what has made us great, and not for it's the USA, But for the inspired genius just beyond the First Amendment, in part, the part T. Jefferson coined as Separation of Church and State...is a minimal necessity if humanity is meant to survive itself. If we are seven billion thereabouts we have thereabouts the same amount of personal beliefs... PRAISE that or count that blessing or don't feel an inclination, there is no right or wrong...!!! To shove a belief system down someone's throat, being, brain, heart, civil liberties or have that your AS YOUR FEAR.... With your every BREATH, in your very BED, on a CARDBOARD BOX, a PENTHOUSE SUITE, any ole ALLEYWAY, in need to serve your ****** FUNCTIONS..... Speak your heart, with thoughts pressing through one's mind to ink, to type, to voice and FIND YOU, YOUR KIND HAS BEEN Found by some Predators who want you on a noose, your president, commander in chief..... They are ready on command for some false set of values that say **** and it is in the name of God and Love.... It is written, in some book that cannot be refuted or seen in any other way, yet it is seen 7 billion ways over at minimal by now... They will say it is in the name and claims of 'our founding fathers' '-------------------such 'n such falsely claimed values'. But those who won't tell you what it is about and for thousands, hundreds or so many decades of years. But in the name of , '------------' what does it matter it's exactly the way it's been done just before and the time before that and as far as history records and does not, and none tells any part of any truth to anyone about next to anything. Count we are blessed or not or were and need to be again and it's this thing or that. So easy to swallow the intended deceptions about the Frankenstein no doubt so many will not deny was an effort of intentional making, perhaps with a result beyond hopes and or expectations. Hope that we would swallow hook line and sinker!! The monster is on the loose America, it's not about you or me or even our sons and daughters but the descendants of humankind.... Beyond, Hook, Line and Sinker America, World, Who Knows, When Beyond All That We Swallowed THE WHOLE FISHING BOAT!!!
Mar 29, 2016
Mar 29, 2016 at 3:07 PM UTC
A simple thought
refuted by a small voice
the face in the mirror
shattered by a preconceived notion
a leaf falls off a branch
because the seasons change
or because the wind convinced it to
realms beyond our own
entered only by those dreamed worthy
or by anyone with a sense
four corners make a prison
but do the walls even exist?
May 4, 2012
May 4, 2012 at 2:02 AM UTC
Blue.
Like him.
She's blue.
Like the sky.
Filled with winter rain drizzling finely
Waiting to be released.
Asks why.
Why on earth words of truth.
Became contorted into lies.
Lifted as haze over the morning stream.
Hovering as heavy vapour.
Weighing on her troubled mind.
The lady thinks.
Maybe much too much.
A timid touch.
Her gloves are violet velvet.
Streaked with stripes of sun's touch.
Not so long ago.
Oh so cute.
He was so **** cute.
She the dame, whose tongue now muted.
The lady for who,
His love for her, he disputed.
Was so vilely refuted.
Words spoken and wrote.
Fell onto eyes and the ears of the stubborn old goat.
Such spite shown.
Think she needs a drink.
Feeling green.
He's making her sick.
Maybe she's mean.
Okay
Afraid she's not.
She thinks,
She sports a smile.
Masking the tears.
Sometimes she's mellow.
Sometimes she's not.
But rare moments of magic.
Such magic never will be forgot.
All she has left is a heart.
A beautiful heart vacant and hollow.
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 5:44 PM UTC
these are the veils
that cover our tracks
and the stories we told
are lining our backs
tolling, reeling,
better than ever before
he's leaving, refuted,
too cold for the shallow
shelter inside.
now, carbon makes steel
and the plains you meet
melt for the pillars of
the darkness that sounds
the placing of dreams on
the shelf
you blanket your stares
with your eyes, sockets contained
in your lies, protecting your
fears, committed,
the drastic pulse on the
tip of your star.
Feb 13, 2010
Feb 13, 2010 at 7:08 AM UTC
When I Now Sit And Write...
The Rhymes That I Write SHINE...
Just Like The BRIGHTEST Sunlight... !!!
But... ONLY To Those...
Who DON’T Live In Denial... !!!
The Words That I Quote...
In My Poetic Lines...
Are REALITY Driven... !!!
So Are NOT Verses Written...
To Embrace Submission...
To Falsified Visions... !!!
They Deal In Straight Spitting...
So Relate... Lyricism...
That’s Built To Use Scripture...
That REJECTS Weak Positions...
That Keeps The Truth... Hidden...
They Shine In BRIGHT MINDS...
That Are NOT Those Inclined...
To Move Like Blind Mice...
That’s Right... Three A Time... !!!
Like Wine That Is Fine...
Their Vintage Is Minted...
In Old Shrines Designed...
To Store Words SO PURE...
That They Cannot Be Bought...
By The Poor Or By Lords...
Because... There’s NO PRICE...
Placed On Words For The WISE... !!!
Or... Popping of Corks...
For The Drinking of Thoughts...
That Are Meant To SKYWALK...
Because of The Force...
With Which They Teleport... !!!
They SHINE In The Face...
of Deceitful Folklore... !!!
Because of The TRUTH...
That CANNOT Be ERASED...
Refuted Or Muted...
Or Quickly Polluted...
To Breed Mass Confusion... !!!
They SHINE And Cause Movements...
That HURT Institutions...
That Deal In ABUSES...
And Movements So RUTHLESS...
That They Should Be NEUTERED... !!!
Because They Are DARK... !!!
And Show Little Heart...
Because of The Path...
That Leads Them To Darth...
And Palpatine Sharks... !!!
While What I Write Charts...
A Way To The LIGHT...
That Shines Like Moonlight...
On The CLEAREST of Nights... !!!
ENLIGHTENING Thinkers...
To Take Off The Blinkers...
That Restrict Their Vision... !!!
By Shining Like WISDOM...
That Frees Minds From Prisons...
of... Limited Thinking... !!!
Like I Said They Are Driven...
By Scripture That’s Written...
To Paint HONEST Pictures...
of How We Are Living... !!!
No Need For Petitions...
Or Thinking Conditioned...
To Keep Thoughts Restricted... !!!
Just Written Inscriptions...
That Truly Are... FREE...
Like We Humans SHOULD BE... !!!
To... OPEN OUR MINDS...
And Our Eyes To What’s RIGHT... !!!
Instead of DENY...
What It Is To Live Life...
By FREEING Ourselves...
From A Place Where We Dwell...
Where Freedom's DENIED...
By Those Who Divide...
These Rhymes That I Write...
Are NOT Written For Pride...
Awards... Or A Prize... !!!
They Are Driven To Find...
People WILLING To FIGHT...
To Let LOVE And UNITY.....
Be Things That... ETERNALLY...
........ “ SHINE “.......
Sep 23, 2021
Sep 23, 2021 at 10:46 PM UTC