"regality" poems
Verily, Twin Hearts in Friendship conceived
Is the Right Way to have Interpreted
When Shows like these make Public and Perceived
To give a Selfless Like un-expected
These Humans like me have a lot to Learn
To Grow what such Loyalty requires
Arthur in his Regality gave Concern
For Guinevere to foot what she desires
That is how a Follower must behave
When the Squire works best under the Light
Though empty in notice still carries to stave
For his High Lord to shine with all his Might.
You are that Peaceful; Such I discover
The Heretic in me I must recover.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 2:01 AM UTC
In little coffeeshops
By the back corner, far from the exits
But near the little hall leading to the bathroom
At a time set by a large window
The poet, his soul filled with words and reasons to say them
But unsure how to convey them
Can observe the nerves and synapses
Converging in this single axis
The windowside throne, the great looking glass
Provides a view of every soul to pass
Through the door to the core of any good café
The front register
Where they serve the junkies
Their first no cream no sugar fix of the day
The register girl on this sunrise shift stands tall and wears
A pleasant smile
Like a suit of armor
For the fractures frayed and loosened pieces
Of her 65 hours a week between two jobs psyche
From his back corner vantage point
The poet sees this early morning warrior
And watches her adversaries approach
The sleep deprived and the caffeine dependent
The men in suits with leather briefcases
Hustling and bustling through self inflicted exhaustion
Work force revenants who begin to shamble through the door
Out of the early morning mists at about 5:30
just as the world is shrugging of the shroud of night
In his seat of power, the poet, lord of the room
Can see, despite the dim lights of the coffeeshop
These early birds, gaunt and hungry like vultures
Standing shoulder to shoulder with the last of the night owls
Shabby old things with ruffled feathers
Too tired to sleep or simply without a roost.
Their re rimmed eyes provide a window
Through which a sovereign of the word
May glance upon their tired souls
Yes from that lovely back corner
The poet is a king, a lord in noble regality
Reshaping reality
Sitting in the back of any coffee shop
In Phoenix Arizona
In America
In the world
In this whole great evergrowing span of universe
And turning people into words.
May 10, 2014
May 10, 2014 at 10:47 AM UTC
The eagle is a pompous creature
It reeks of regality and significance
It’s superfluous and ignorant
How does the eagle maintain its status?
It preys on the weary and down trodden
The rodents that scurry over the ground
With their own purpose and cause
Yet the eagle is paramount
It destroys these lesser beings
It is the perfect balance of power and intelligence
Just as it represented the great leaders
Napoleon and ****** to name a few
Ben Franklin understood
The turkey he said should be the bird
I’d rather be the turkey
The turkey does not hurt the field mouse
It is a symbol of bounty and pleasure
Following its own agenda to its own accord
Right till its dyeing breath it gives to others
Far more majestic than the mighty eagle
It can continue its majesty after death
When the turkey becomes a feast
The mighty eagle with all its intelligence
Its power, its pomp and circumstance
Is nothing but road **** smeared across the pavement
Apr 14, 2011
Apr 14, 2011 at 3:57 PM UTC
A prophesied alarm ticks away,
As sobering faces make their way.
Welcome oh stranger, to the land of the learned,
A trip from a ticket handsomely earned.
Watch your crooked tongue,
Forked and twisted in a manner wrong.
For here there be beasts and creatures,
In the midst of dreams and futures.
Through the air drifts the scent of a fanciful tonic,
Quelling instinct, and suppressing the panic.
Walk past the snappy ladies and lads,
Peering at screens for the latest fads.
Watch their suits emanate regality,
Killing the scene with sheer brutality.
See through the pores of that fine fabric,
And you'll find the remnants of a familiar trick.
Not unlike the wisdom of the wizened,
The words of the victorious, the echoes of the poisoned.
Underneath it all, see the truth,
Strip away the puffed, monstrous brute.
It's a dainty little feeling, fear they call it,
On their faces, clear and large is it writ.
They turn from the brave to the meek,
Everyone caught in this noxious reek.
What they ought to have predicted,
Is that this reverie is self inflicted.
Sullen cheeks, and drippy noses abound,
Waiting to be addressed and found.
This place is a walking minefield,
Of broken bones and souls to be healed.
But its not their fault, I can't complain,
Because all they feel they don't feign.
As in the midst of this perennial parade,
I find solace in the friends I've made.
Jan 26, 2016
Jan 26, 2016 at 10:28 AM UTC
I stared at Diana
Eyes a hue of blue
Skin white and shiny
Hair a sheen of unnatural yellow
My hand shook whenever I had to move her
Fearful of spoiling her purity
With my grubby fingers
So Diana stood alone in the corner
Bidding me goodbye
As I set out for school each morning.
One month later
She was stolen
By the housemaid
Today, I imagine Diana
Standing proud in the
Middle of the mud floor
Bringing regality
Into an impure world.
Jan 3, 2013
Jan 3, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
skin burnt,
blistered and charred,
hair scorched to the
naked flesh beneath.
cracked hands bleeding;
make enfeebled attempt to
obscure disfigured face—
hiding from onlookers' gaze the
shame of such pain.
a world set aflame,
the inferno a scheme
by heat and by
fire, amidst
swirling orange spires,
the landscape through force
taken at desire.
an ape once great,
gentle regality
reduction by immolation,
magnificence squandered,
now moulded to ash,
an animal sacrifice—a victim of
act without consequence consideration,
to appease devilish demand,
the culinary Palm to
grace the malefactor's hand.
nature's innocence course set—damnation,
if not new mind found.
a power,
the fortitude and will
to exorcise this demon—
this demon
known as man.
Nov 26, 2014
Nov 26, 2014 at 4:08 PM UTC
I wonder if she knows,
that when she speaks
with a voice
low and smooth,
I become ashamed of my own.
I wonder if she knows
I watch her sometimes
and envy each breath.
I admire everything about her...
her poetry is simple but stunning
her laugh infectious
her smile is kind
and her eyes are bright.
I heard about her,
years before,
and had a picture in my mind.
I know her now
and the picture has not changed
if only to make it better.
I envy her confidence
I admire her every movement.
If she were famous I'd own all her movies
and do what I do now,
watch and learn
and try to be as great as she.
Her talent is unwasted
as all who know her love her.
How is it she's so grand?
The boys, they look,
they see,
they know she is the most beautiful girl in the room
they know they want her
they know,
as I know,
that she's worth it.
that she deserves it.
that she should be happy.
I wonder if she knows,
this poem is about her.
I wonder if she knows
I wish I could be even an inch similar to her.
It's not cruel envy and jealousy I hold for her,
but complete admiration for the way she carries herself.
She speaks her mind
and shows emotion
clever and funny,
she walks with regality
and is oh so gorgeous.
How is it she seems so perfect?
So poised and gentle and witty-
in not the most poetic terms
I basically think she's really cool,
and wish I could carry myself
in the profound,
glamourous,
respectable,
admirable way in which she does.
How is it she'd ever care to be my friend?
Oh the way she walks,
the way she speaks,
the way the other girls envy
the way the boys look
the way the teachers admire,
she's unafraid to announce her sorrows and fears,
she enters a room with a fierce glamour
and makes her presence known,
as, for her, it should be.
Oh, she is glorious.
and I admire her so.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 3:33 AM UTC
Soft gray waves crashing on the shore of us
and how serene do you ride the inconsistent night tide.
I am the observer, the witness to your grace, the recorder of time that bides
Slow, indigo transcends to a cool tranquil hue
The pacific shadows accent the stormless body beside me, and I wish to leave her undisturbed but I cannot be so standstill, despite such clarity and clearheadedness you bestow upon me.
Azure quickly washes away when warm gold blankets my affectionate one.
You tasked me to find an answer for why I cannot sleep:
you dawn sunrise and radiate natural regality that even the royal Sun
could not deny that you wear a crown of brilliance.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 2:23 PM UTC
And your body swayed red with fire.
And reminded me that passion exists.
Still. In this age of prothstetic souls and bones.
Your two feet walked like steel on earth.
Solid and understanding.
And the power that came from your eyes,
was purple with regality and a soft blue
that comforted me and the ungraceful body
I was given to call home.
Your body kept swaying red with fire.
Never ceasing.
Showing me that I have the same endurance
within me, too.
And someday when I'm stronger,
my body will sway red, too.
And our passion together will burn the brightest fire.
May 20, 2014
May 20, 2014 at 1:42 PM UTC
Haunted,
To this very day,
When I saw night,
Under the blue moons blue.
A demon, young as me,
Beginning to spread its wings,
And take off to flight.
And as he majestically spread,
His evil bearers,
I understood the regality,
He must once have carried,
Demons were once Angels…
And that’s what makes them scary.
That something so good,
Could turn so evil…
He attacked viciously,
Everything in sight.
His anger and wrath and lust,
Had no respite.
Until he awoke,
For he was awake but sleeping.
And saw his hands,
Looked quite like mine.
And those eyes which even still,
Were burning…
Looked similar to mine.
And those wings on which he flew on,
Which were never actually there,
Disappeared.
And suddenly I realized.
Where there used to be an Angel,
Now was me,
A Demon.
Mar 31, 2010
Mar 31, 2010 at 8:06 PM UTC
How poignant your eyes.
The juices of your life,
Have withered and ******
You've starred at the sun too long.
No glee you've found in her sights,
Just intangible regality,
And mundane morality.
Scared behold the sky,
You lose yourself in every passing cloud.
And dream your soul to find,
Hence in a starry night.
Sep 19, 2015
Sep 19, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Its about this time of the year when the fog feels melancholy. Sticky in the way it hugs around your fingers, and sometimes your toes. When the grey gives way to blue, and theres a breeze right aroudn midday before the sun comes in, warming your shoulders and brightening his hair.
Its right about this time of year when change sits regally on every windowsill and rooftop, reminding you that it never left, you were just fooled by the frigid frost of february covering its tracks.
Look over your shoulder, she's not there anymore. The way you left her, at the door. Its open, swinging.
And its this time of year when its spring again. And the regality of change crowns the blossoms on each branch, willowing by your doorstep. Sitting on the stoop smoking a cigarette you see the smoke, blowing in little curves to your neighbor Mani's door.
How long you'll be here, you don't know. Mani doesn't either. You both came in from the countryside, a while back expecting to find a gig singing or acting. Lately, you've both been doing that, but what you earn money for is pouring whisky and ***** and gin for people who's lives are made or lost or forgotten by whatever you give them. Sometimes it feels like you control some secret potion, like you have an elixir to share at your dispense. a secret, just like the patch of grass that lingers growing and re-growing under the february frost.
She left pretty quick- you couldn't catch her, there was no way. See you have to know that that kind of thing is coming, or get ********* lucky. But you lost her you really did. With her hair in the wind, and her eyes, so clear you could see the wind blow through them, and the sun shining rays, she used to sit on the stoop. Now that's what you've got. A pretty picture in your mind- one that's all too connected. You remember the smell the touch the heartbeat. Its all there, and it will be. It'll stay you know. She was designed for it- to break into your little shell and leave her mark, make room for herself in your life just in case the spring wasn't coming back, in case change wasn't going to slip through a hole in your pocket and fall down, down into the new york city subway to be carried and picked up and taken on odyssey upon odyssey.
You would have never known. And so, now change sits regally where she did, mocking you for having turned you into a beggar, a gypsy, a fool for little pieces of silver and gold. You begged for change, and I warned be careful what you wish for.
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 3:36 PM UTC
You sit next to me,
most unwillingly,
and I can't help but stare.
You have remade yourself;
a group of working parts
of which I am not apart.
Same beautiful woman.
Same beautiful pride,
with that air of regality
that leaves everyone else
pondering their inferiority.
However, now there
is something new.
An awe inspiring anger
that flushes your cheeks
and clenches your fingers.
You are gorgeous when you're angry.
You have this face that you put on;
a flare in your eyes and a
compression of your lips.
You would never let yourself
come down from this ledge.
--even though if you jumped
I would catch you, I promise--
You have remade yourself
into a new whole and
I have received my eviction notice.
But I know it's not as simple
as you allow it to be,
I can see the digs in the edge
of your thumbnails
where you bite into them with
your index finger.
Signs of stress
to anyone enough to know.
I see it in your flippancy.
You are not a reckless person, always
careful, calculating risk and reward,
but you've thrown
caution to the wind, it seems.
Perhaps an act of revenge,
perhaps of retribution,
it doesn't make a difference.
I only watch in wonder of the woman
I escorted out of my life, as
she sits next to me
unspeaking, unfeeling.
And I've never felt farther
in my life.
Feb 23, 2014
Feb 23, 2014 at 2:38 PM UTC
Twilight of the gods approaches and these streets, cursed
As they are with porosity,
Still weep the blood of yesterdays riots, the gentrification of bodies,
Breath and space,
The slow complete death of a complex entity,
The endless parade of generations, hand shakes and pride,
Timeless progressions of intimacy,
Regality, photographs in frames, a certain fondness in closure,
Clarity of vision and purpose,
Creation and black coffee,
Art by denigration,
Could this yet be a church of healing?
Intimacy and open casket funerals, a deeper connection with the spirits,
Intertwined souls on impossible trajectories, come, roll your way over these promised lands,
You beasts of pilgrimage and sacrifice, I love you and your ceaseless hunger
May 11, 2018
May 11, 2018 at 2:07 AM UTC
How can it be?
Maybe you can you tell me
How a woman as rare and free as she
A Queen of such unmatched Regality
Could possibly
have eyes just for me?
How can it be?
It's a curious mystery
Am I really worthy?
Am I just lucky?
Does she see something inside me
That I do not see?
Or has no man before me
Ever loved her completely?
But how can that be?
What utter stupidity
or sad masculine insecurity
How can it be?
The question intrigues me
A dream now reality
A destiny perplexity
I'm sure you'll agree
She's an exquisite beauty
An effervescent & naturally
optimistic Queen Bee
Unique in her radiantly
Bright & nourishing energy
A warrior who gracefully
Authors her own story
But for me, additionally
Of the human in her I see
She is unquestionably
High Goddess among ALL the deity
How can it be?
This pure Gaian beauty
Is in Love with just me?
Am I really worthy?
Yet it matters not, you see
It's simple curiosity
For I know all that needs be
When she sets gaze upon me
Mine is not to know
Mine is not to understand
Mine is to help her grow
To Love her and hold her hand
And Love her I do
Jan 7, 2019
Jan 7, 2019 at 3:36 AM UTC
his sun rose when she opened her eyes
dispelling at last his years of dark night
bringing bright light back into his life
she smiles, his heart sings
her laughter sends his mind dancing
a contagious lightness in her glance
a quiet regality in her stance
his light
Dec 20, 2023
Dec 20, 2023 at 10:26 PM UTC
My dear friend,
You are a Queen
Don't ever forget that ****
Chin up, eyes forward,
Head held high, confident.
These boys be stressin
Don't know what they lookin
For.
Don't let them ruin your starlight
Love, cause you deserve more.
You're a Queen
Full blown royal regality
That's the reality.
Your court's full of Jesters
Tryina take
While you wait
And search for your King.
You're a Queen;
Inside and out, you're beautiful,
Sweet, kind, strong, and gentle.
So you gotta beware these
Kids tryina **** up your mental.
They wear fools gold crowns
You're young so don't let
Them take you off your seat.
Save your tears for that one
Who'll know what it means
To respect, adore, and love you
In his full capicity cause he
Know's you deserve to know
You can trust him with your heart.
You're a Queen, love,
Don't let these jokers tear you apart.
Apr 6, 2018
Apr 6, 2018 at 10:05 AM UTC