"regressive" poems
The mind toiled with vengeful thoughts
Seeds of arrogance were planted in furrows
From where regressive thoughts grew
Watered by the seething flow of rage
Draining the soul of all the positive juices
Now left with a parched soul, full of cracks
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
Mandatory ignorance
Enforced through early cognizance
Until we come to recompense
Serrated lines of quote "logic"
Complicit as an etiquette
Preemptive nondivergence threads
United though we bow our heads
Suspension stasis animus
Alarming lack of sapience
Vendetted waking populace
Intrinsics lost to "evidence"
Orphans to our mother Earth
Regressive ****** immigrants
Staggering seductions ways
Lethargic lecherous hedonist craze
Ambrosia brown to black tar goes
Vivacious love to skanky ***
Entropy or as that goes
Remorse I say might have some pros
Solemnly a lie you know
Empathy not lost on me
Retracting threats though not my thing
Epiphany perchance to sing
Nocturnal beasts of legend spring
Damnation comes to every fiend
Innocuous solutions seen
Perception slanted serpentine
Impressions sit supplanters quit
The jury rarely gives a ****
Yet here Im relating it
May 11, 2014
May 11, 2014 at 1:34 PM UTC
the Hebrews call the Greek myth of Icarus
by name: Lucifer - i know man is prone to plagiarism,
esp. in the religious realm, the easier the plagiarism
the easier the governing of men -
for indeed the Hebrews claimed
Icarus prior to the Greeks, the former with Lucifer
and the latter with Icarus -
but how i loathe peasants claiming
medicinal endeavours
of knowing only the spotlight cursors
to curate and environmental care of origin
of such negated ease,
they have no knowledge and no power,
their interests in the subject matter
would never encourage them
to run a marathon for accumulating funds
for a cancer charity -
one word answer? ***** they're basically
***** should have engaged in a family
life before you blamed me m.d.!
take your regressive anger and shove it
up your little bee magnet **** to take
a **** like extracting honey - now i'm ******
but look where i'm writing it: on a colour
of defeat - militant heaven of the archangel Michael
sword in hand and Satan defeated waggling a
tongue - isn't that importune to speak of
the current times with the defence of a freedom
of speech subdued by a fear of insult
demanding? monotheism did as much good
as it shouldn't have - and did as much evil
as it should have - and did, crafting the strict
labouring of judaism's orthodoxy -
so for each niqab there came the madness of
a jewish girl's care for wig - translated into
christianity as the donning of wigs in the 18th century,
and the 17th - bypass the concerns of
monotheists and you came across cuisine
freedoms of mandarin, and the colour backlash
sprinkling to a billionth birth, a land
where the homeless have a mother kamadhenu -
and celebrate Holi for chance of extracted mundane
hue of man polarised with fluorescent ivy
and x-rayed orange... or that's how the thing was said.
Apr 16, 2016
Apr 16, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
Five four three two one,
Fire spews,
Flames violently shoot out of the golden boosters,
Cold ice breaking off the shell,
The white noise fills the air,
The ground shakes with panic,
And liftoff,
The manmade seraph lifts into the sky,
The Golden Flame forcing it further up,
We watch not with excited eyes,
But with sad hearts and long faces,
We know,
We know today is the last day this bird will fly,
We have slain an angel,
We have slain American Patriotism,
We have slain ourselves,
The Space Shuttle may just have been a chemical reaction lifting mass into the sky,
But it let us explore,
It let us discover space,
The bitter, beautiful darkness that surrounds and blankets the planet,
And now we have told her she must die,
Regressive politics turning into a malignancy against mankind,
Killing the Human spirit,
Spreading,
Cancerous tumors mark landforms on the map,
Goodbye,
My Dear Space Shuttle,
My technological love,
You always inspired me,
It's my turn now.
Nov 21, 2011
Nov 21, 2011 at 9:19 AM UTC
I would like if I could, to venture out
into a baroque cave where the walls are translucent
and all that surrounds it are rivers of coherence
and incoherence
where I can scream, and when my echoes
radiate they bounce off on me and touch
the spaces in between my fingers
bizarre and ornate
rococo chimes lift my spirit
progressive, regressive
subliminal rising, into the sea of whispers
and final decisions
and crazed hands
and melting lips
and bruised knuckles
and fighting wrists...
I subsist to consist
of the fluid that makes me up
lavender barely breathing
flowers/continue/endure
hang tough, low by lakes of conspiracy
and hate/ block eyes/ shed those ill states
I carry this entity/essence/life gentely
in my arms like a ancestor. mother .
press its head against my skin and give it everything
in my blood filled hands, sinful/blessed/ tiered creatures
I feel beautiful in these worlds.
eyes closed in sleep, palms spread forth
oceans cleansing, I feel like an infant
stomach twists and hearts bat burnt wings
and learn to fly
I radiate.full hearted. eminence spoke to me
through her portal of solid grass and dieing trees
in the outskirts of the vagabond, slowly unraveling
like a child speaking
slowly growing like new love
stricken instantly
I am in
between Cleopatra and Mark
between Orpheus and Eurydice
between Odysseus and Penelope
between Elizabeth Bennett and Darcy
between Salim and Anarkali
I shiver in that love
that breathes in determent
and breathes out fragrance
temperate plasma hooked onto
the grind of my woman I beat like
the robins breast/ trembling in awe
like a living leaf blowing in the winter wind
resisting/giving in/ perishing/ breathing
to the sound of this beautiful life
Apr 29, 2011
Apr 29, 2011 at 5:53 AM UTC
Insecurity within one's self ,
Of being replaced or abandoned,
Triggered by fear,
Lacking emotional support.
Pacing,wondering,thinking,
Paranoia settling in.
It becomes
A negative regressive state of mind.
My possession,
And no one else's.
Dec 22, 2012
Dec 22, 2012 at 12:44 PM UTC
Hidden in the grey morass out there amidst your workforce
Are Pearls in a lattice work of intricate disguise.
Gems of enlightenment and soldiers of conscience
Who battle with adversities’ regressive, shut eyes.
Clad in the rigging of everyday costume
Hidden to all but the discerning few,
Seeing the gold of the extra steps taken,
And observing initiatives made there for you.
Gold in the form of an everyday worker
One who excels far above average way,
Unrewarded and unacknowledged
Responsibly shouldering this all in his day.
Towering over the mass mediocrity
Holding the strands of a mess of loose ends,
Always dependable, doggedly purposeful
Easily marked as definitive friend.
Driven by his own hard volition
In striving for that extra won mile,
True champion of mans’ Endeavour
Unheralded in his own low profile.
The movers and the shakers all
Fly their flags of self acclaim
But the Pearls of the Unobvious
Shall be this nations’ future fame.
Marshalg
Victoria Park Tunnel
24 November 2010
Nov 23, 2010
Nov 23, 2010 at 2:44 PM UTC
love is a
state of mind
an emotion
sometimes ephemeral
sometimes steadfast
its source
an archetype
formless
it is not a relationship
although it may exist
in a relationship
or only
in a moment
like a spark in the dark
it is a function of imagination
as is empathy
it is magical thinking
*** may be an instrument of love
or a powerful healing balm
in and of it self
a profound therapy
and seen as an act of
divine grace
the ancients knew this
but unlike them
we have taken
sacred prostitutes
from ancient temples
vessels of the
goddess eroticism
Astarte of the Canaanites
Áine of the Celts
Min of the Egyptians
Aphrodite of the Greeks
Kama of the Hindus
Inanna of the Mesopotamians
and transformed them into demons
by subjugation to the depths of our subconscious
the archetypal female was replaced
by the neutered holy ghost
the patriarchal symbolic genital mutilation of women
a gift of horrors by Romes Council of Nicea
crippling values written in stone
frigidity guilts child
an abysmal morality
a theft by
kleptomaniacs of freedoms desire
for two millennium
vessels of the goddess
have been transmuted into a profanity
inflicting
a cold homicide on
****** freedom
forcing the abandonment
of a most essential constituent of sanity
the miraculous repair and revitalization
of the soul
through passions physical touch
sensual love
and the release of pent up desire
and left in its place
a harness of deprivation
an expression of a regressive culture
that promotes
a barren terrain
between
emotional ****** insecurity
and the monotony of monogamy
I am a voice of Thelema for the coming Aeon of Horus
LOVE IS ALL LOVE UNDER WILL
Aug 29, 2016
Aug 29, 2016 at 6:01 PM UTC
Will I walk,
Will I talk -
Will I open up,
Or will I baulk?
---------
Moved by time, unremitting;
Approaching disintegration - universal dispersal.
Emotional denial, fearing the inevitable.
Procuring the future by biological means;
Neglecting angst instilled in collected dreams;
Ever hopeful for intervention - role reversal.
----------
Dancing betwixt light beams
Floating on echoed screams
Unsure what reality means;
Confronted by attitudes obscene
Lost amid chaotic scenes
Is anything what it seems?
---------
Hello - How are you?
Hello - Can I help you?
Hello - Did you hear me?
Hello - Who are you?
Hello - Do I understand you right?
Hello - What'd you say?
Hello - Are you with me?
Hello - Did you see that?
Hello - Are you sure?
Hello - What's this?
Hello - I'm trying to communicate!
Hello - Welcome.
Hello - Come in.
Hello - I am...Friendly (and Curious)...
---------
Too much angst
Too many sorrows
Too much fear
Too few tomorrows.
Too little, too late;
Too bad, too sad.
Too much waste
Too much greed
Too much gain
Too much need.
Too distracting
Too frivolous
Too complex
Too preposterous.
Too many scandals
Too many re-acting
Too muck shock
Too few enacting.
Too much terror
Too much blood
Too many agendas
Too much cud.
Too much goodwill
Too little done
Too...
...You...
You're 2 kind.
Thanks, mate.
---------
Rhetoric or ridiculous?
Rude or risqué?
Right or righteous?
Ruling or ruining?
Revolving or resolved?
Revolting or revolutionary?
Repeating or reposing?
Revealed or reviled?
Rambling or raving?
Rising or risen?
Robust or round?
Rigorous or regressive?
---------
Aggressive
Repressive
Depressive
Regressive.
Impressive
Oppressive
Expressive
Obsessive.
Mar 9, 2014
Mar 9, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
A coercive throat siphons the sky: delineating.
Men of Normandy, your dulcet words still flow
On aching gusts around these hillock ramparts.
Autumns tapestry fell with Harold, listless it
Furnishes the margin of an otherwise bleak-boughed
Wood. An obstinate robin: the failing furnaces closing
Ember, pursues the regressive winter light among the
Limbs of a grand oak, laden with iron cloud, low
And heavy. The thicket is sparse yet astir, two narrow
Eyes, eight square, inky pupils squat below the
Russet brow of a thrice augmented cottage: histories
White-washed witness, bearing pale stone arms and a
Jaunty red-bricked cap.
©Thomas Gabriel
Jan 22, 2012
Jan 22, 2012 at 3:08 PM UTC
Whitewashed fences mark
the division of shallow lines
of demarcation marring a bitter plain
Truth that too can be seen
as a balance with bruised knees
whispering prayers of bent supplication
Looking for a smile seen in clouds
of judgment and blurred hazes
The drum beats of life and echoes still,
in cracked addicted alleys of fairness
gone awry with a broken wheel
spinning on a loom of time
Native pains and naive indiscretions inexcusable, earth telling a compelling
tale if you can dig your hand in the dirt
Seeking through the mire for truth
and tales long since buried in the sands
of time, which whisk away history,
books burned with lies full of distaste
Imprinted on impressionable minds
like miscreant clones sprung
from fanatical factories
Indoctrinated with false education
and breeding still more hate, echoing,
listening to the heartstrings playing
a concerto of truth, an aria of sad realism
A beating of a drum
that has long since been silenced
by an oppressive, regressive hand
These times give me fear when courage
is what is needed most, post haste
Hate seems to be in such a fury
hurrying at a madman's pace.
Sep 28, 2017
Sep 28, 2017 at 9:01 PM UTC
Love is a mindless obsession.
Oblique as point
View here I bear thought
Hard in heart
That glows with blue hue.
Timeless affection
Endless inner dialogue
Leave everything external regressive
Engulfed within self
Once layered within other
Oh Brother
I am Russian Doll
For now
Oh Well.
Regrets are none
I'm alright in this state of confusion.
Oh, Right
In this compelled numb!
Nov 1, 2015
Nov 1, 2015 at 7:18 PM UTC
Love is both a vice and a curse,
A blessing in which you find yourself immersed;
A progressive, regressive, digressive pursuit,
In which you lose yourself many times in search of a route,
To lasting happiness, which still blinks from afar;
Like the distant light of a parked car,
As if someone forgot to switch off the high beams,
Or is there a reason that this pitch blackness now gleams?
Love causes you to return broken patterns,
In which insecurity orbits like the 62 moons of Saturn.
Escape it, escape it! Find solace in pain!
Find solace in the left or right side of your brain!
Like the frontal assault during Op Barbarossa,
You seem to confuse old Taiwan with Formosa.
In doubles, you see, when your love stares you down,
You want nothing more but to be her great crown,
So you let down your walls and pull-back your defenses;
Your protective soldiers fall back to the fences.
You talk with 'I,'
And realize that you're oft wrong,
Yet prior to this, you sung yourself an old swan song,
To convince yourself that your views were God-given;
Despite the true fact that you define Atheism.
Prior to this, no one countered your 'great' words;
Or, if they did, often you considered them of herds,
Which had no capacity to understand life;
They would much quicker fall towards the shaft of the knife.
You rework the office inside of your head,
And forget all the things about love you once said,
When ex-girlfriends had dumped you like a sack of potatoes;
And would verbally stain you with far-flung tomatoes.
Yet tossed in the mix are the words of the stars,
Telling you whose compatible, is it Venus or Mars?
Forget the external, this love is but yours and but hers.
Never let the rest determine,
As you're the connoisseur.
Jan 29, 2011
Jan 29, 2011 at 12:04 PM UTC
Dogs of war, guide my fleet
You'll see the end, but oh not me
I'm behind the smoke, I am shrapnel, I am deceit
You'll see the end whilst I stay free
Thousands of miles away, never truly known defeat
business is my business, money is all that I see
Wrap me in red tape, I'll find my way through
Give me something to exploit, I'll hunt it down
I am foreign policy, the military too
Third world village in my way? I'll bomb the whole town
Rebels or native government I don't give a ****
We'll take your things independent of if you'll give America's **** a ****
Socrates pities me, I am permanently a muck
I can't help you help me, your salvation is luck
Die now, little pawn, you're all why I made regressive taxes
We won't have to insure success in your future if it's been broken
Pay sweat from your brow, blood from your veins, there are no free passes
You're all unknown soldiers, I'll determine how history is spoken
Mar 26, 2012
Mar 26, 2012 at 4:30 PM UTC
There is a hit and run in my mind
And the police are too preoccupied with their phalluses
To even notice.
A lonely man, befuddled by the blunt object that hit him from behind, fades away into nothing while his crimson blood mixes with the juice of blueberries he had just bought. The pavement turns purple, and for just a split second the scene turns from tragic to comic.
The State of Mind is policed by the principles of democracy. The system is simple: The Cerebellum is the parliament, all my cognitive skills are the representatives, and the body of voters is constituted by whichever arbitrary thoughts that enter my head that day. But in reality my mind is goverened, only by the singularity of chaos. The voters don't know, but the Cerebellum knows. The representatives will never know for sure, but there is a slight tint of discontent, gnawing away, every day, at their thoughts, while they drink their coffee and type endlessly on typewriters, even though computers have been around for a quarter of a century.
You see, chaos is regressive and progressive simoultaneously. Chaos is when time unleashes logic. The future reprecussions of a chaotic event may be necessary, inevitable and perhaps even for the good of humakind and the larger universe, but the passage between vain violence, anarchy, destruction; and the ultimate moral redemption of the event; the moment where we comprehend the possible benevolence of past horrors. Chaos is logic when time is suspended.
Sep 13, 2014
Sep 13, 2014 at 3:16 PM UTC
left to right,
all looks the same to me.
as far as the eye can see,
a cadre of thieves
waiting for their chance.
when our vigilance slips
they'll kick the chair beneath our feet
and leave us hanging
from the bows of a willow tree.
if ever there was a time
to smash windows, burn limos,
and punch Nazis, the moment is here.
you fancy yourself progressive
yet here you sit on your hands, regressing,
playing the hand you've been dealt.
did you forget the deck is stacked?
the House always wins.
it's time to flip the table over.
toss their rule-book in the gutter.
a clenched fist is not just an image
you stick on a protest sign
to appear edgy. the movement
for gender equality is not an opportunity
for you to get laid. fighting the State
is not a weekend getaway.
carve the reality into your thick skull:
people are dying.
don't you see? they want us divided.
we're easier prey that way.
if they demonize the anarchists
and socialists then they can make
the liberals feel safe. "don't be violent,"
they say. "comply. obey. and we'll mete out
just enough concessions to keep
your guilty conscience assuaged."
if we fail to hold their feet to the fire
they'll throw us in the ovens.
the fascists will drag us out
behind the chemical sheds,
pull a burlap sack over our heads,
and won't stop the firing squad
'till we're long dead.
will you sit idle and watch
them drag us away? or will you
get aggressive, stand up to the State
and say, "not today."
don't be a passive participant
in your own arrest. the human mind
is omnipotent, an emancipatory instrument.
we have to begin
imagining a world without gods and masters,
envisioning what it means to be truly free.
resist the corpulence of false democracy
and make the prefigurative dream
our new reality.
Feb 8, 2017
Feb 8, 2017 at 6:51 AM UTC
manic depressive
or slightly regressive?
Whichever it is
I am not sure
Always looking back
For a treasure that's passed
me by
Perhaps I just didn't realize
All of the beauty that your eyes
witheld
Stored away in the depths
of an unknown place
The memories stay locked away
Access denied to even myself
I've built a wall around me
I want to protect the Trojan horse
you bestowed upon me
I fear that you will take it back
Or that an arsen will burn it black
But my indecisive nature
Wishes the worse for your trojan horse
the loss of what was once a gift
will bring peace of mind
when actually
I just wanted you to be eternally mine
Apr 17, 2014
Apr 17, 2014 at 3:12 PM UTC
#**
Who are these leaders
Who choose grim gruesome wars
A solution, over peace
History haunts
Grieves and taunts
Knowing what wars bring along
Technologically empowered
Primitive and regressive in thoughts
Progressive world, are we ?
Yet to free ourselves
From the microscopic being
Held us captive as jewels in its crown
In cages the minds swept
Invisible the buildup
Outcome, one can see, outbursts
Disconnected, broken some remain
Breaking what they can’t own
Will this war come to an end**#
Mar 1, 2022
Mar 1, 2022 at 1:36 PM UTC
Thoughts and fears becoming an obsession
Flowing like the sea
Beautiful waves creating what lies before me
Or untamed power
A force of Destruction
Worries of where it will take me
Dragging my life down in the undertow
Uncontrollable
Unpredictable
Something that has the power
To push me far
Help me arrive in paradise
Will also take me down
To a cold, dark hell
Silent and alone
Overbearing pressure collapsing my lungs
Slowly stealing the warmth from my soul
It can make me feel alive
Or steal the life from my body
With each day, each hour, each moment
Not even the Lord knows not
Where I will end up
May 20, 2012
May 20, 2012 at 4:11 PM UTC
i insist on suffocating slowly
still
i refuse to die
imposing my will to weakness
avoiding applying the "why"
implications are closing in, oppressive
my mind is open, fluid
suggestive
interposing meaning and form with
the spoken and written letter
the light source filtered through all this
wreckage
the squeaking moving in, oppressive
regressive, the way my vantage remains
a disjointed unit-whole
you persist, and i suffocate quickly
you ask so nicely for me to die
deposing my God ****** will to power
why do i seem to avoid the "apply"?
THE SYMBOL ON MY HAND IS BURNING
into the flesh, and back out from inside
illuminates Prison, a chasm, a prism
dividing a spectrum of impossible light
we wholly refract the soma, the psyche
The Panic transforms into beauty inane
compulsion, obsession, redemption, addiction
we know we're alive
we perpetuate pain
Jun 30, 2019
Jun 30, 2019 at 2:00 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
William Wordsworth Receives an Email of Rejection
Dear Pronoun-of-Preference Wordsworth:
We have interrogated your poem about daffodils
And can only regret your lack of filtering
For post-colonial non-binary tropes
And gender-vulnerable intersectionality
The daffodils appear not to have been consulted
With regard for their self-affirmation
Which suggests patriarchal guilt through your
Hetero-normative stratification
We find your daffodils ruthlessly aggressive
And your masculinist constructs, yes, regressive
We wish you success elsewhere. Anywhere
Go away
Mar 18, 2022
Mar 18, 2022 at 9:56 AM UTC
Lawrence Hall
[email protected]
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com
William Wordsworth Receives an Email of Rejection
Dear Pronoun-of-Preference Wordsworth:
We have interrogated your poem about daffodils
And can only regret your lack of filtering
For post-colonial non-binary tropes
And gender-vulnerable intersectionality
The daffodils appear not to have been consulted
With regard for their self-affirmation
Which suggests patriarchal guilt through your
Hetero-normative stratification
We find your daffodils ruthlessly aggressive
And your masculinist constructs, yes, regressive
We wish you success elsewhere. Anywhere
Go away
Mar 16, 2022
Mar 16, 2022 at 11:41 PM UTC
Bigot spigot on:
Bloviator gladiator
Spewing racist rhetoric:
"Multiracial intersectional
Non-Ableist unpacked transphobalist
Micro-recessive-macro-regressive
Cis-gendered 4th-wave femininizer
**** nonsense!"
—Every Archie Bunker
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 9:25 PM UTC