"remedied" poems
she is
a very naughty girl
she never follows
policy to the letter
she always
does the wrong thing
she needs some discipline
she's proficient
at defying the law
she knows not how
to get the message
she doesn't
listen intently enough
she fills many charge sheets
with her misconduct
she is a girl
with a streak of wickedness
she has all the hallmarks
of someone who is naughty
I speak of Ursula
in the above list of bad deeds
and there is a hope
that her bad deeds
can be quickly remedied
the hand of an authority figure
will bring her back into line
as she has too often
strayed from that line
whence appropriate corrections
are implemented
all her behavioral problems
shall be circumvented
then and only then
a change will eventuate
and she'll no longer
be showing her bad traits
really naughty girls
such as Ursula
can become more like
a pleasant seaside peninsula
watching her radical transformation
shall be a sight to see
so we'll keep our eyes focused
on what Ursula shall soon be
Nov 29, 2013
Nov 29, 2013 at 6:13 PM UTC
In the dark of night, in the middle of a storm
A dish falls, shatters
A shriek tears the relative silence
Pale pink blood blossoms in the water
While rich red blood wells up in the hand
Tears falling like a blinding waterfall
Stabs and throbs of aching stinging searing pain
Blood and pain and tears fill the mind
A flash of white tissue beneath the torrents of red
Panting sobs and hyperventilation
Panicking as victim is rushed to the ER
Mother tries to comfort daughter with story of healed,
Previously lacerated toes
Two words blurted between gasps of pain: NOT HELPING
Arrive to an empty lobby, excepting a nurse and receptionist
Focus on nothing, only the hand
The possible tendon torn, the skin shredded, the blood spilt
Dishtowel now soaking red irony fluid instead of clear soapy
The story repeated 6, 7, 8 times
A nurse asks if I smoke or drink
A radiologist asks if there is any chance for pregnancy
And for a moment I am shocked out of my pain into pondering
The corruption of the modern generations,
Such that I am asked these questions
Any friend of mine would quickly tell that
No, I'm not that kind of teenager... but how many are?
Then I am whisked from the x-ray room
Off for stitches, they say my tendon is cut
That I need stitches
The fingers no longer gush, but that triviality is soon remedied
A doctor probes the wound for shards
Nurse flushes it clean with chlorohexadine
Both renew the flow
Doctor returns, stitches both fingers and chats away
Grand tally of five stitches, a splint, blankets of guaze,
And a roll of medical tape
Prescriptions for pain meds and antibiotics, both given
A scoffing glance, but instructions are followed
Forbidden from any activity with the right hand by my mother
I struggle even to write, simple chores soon a nuisance
First time the splint and stitches are gone,
Doctor number two declares my hand usable
First time the little finger bends, the half healed skin splits
So all for a plate, a hand was rendered more useless
Nov 13, 2012
Nov 13, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
I am so very broke, I can’t afford to pay it thought.
Fettered in a cage by poverty, left only to pray and rot.
The feathers of my soul have been tarred and stained by life.
So much so, I'm not sure if they'll ever again shine bright.
This Bird in my heart used to sing for my hopes and dreams;
Mourning every tragedy with requiems that gleamed.
A little Canary to be all mine until the very end of time,
Staving off this cold world and reminding me I'm fine.
This poverty starved her slow and deep, down to the very core.
Melodies that once remedied despair gone forevermore.
Nowadays, all I can ever do is reminisce about that yellow bird;
How she'd bring warmth to my life's cold hell of a blur.
The way our voices would harmonize on little notes;
Prophecies of a better future foretold from our nook.
That's why I still cling to the distant sound of their words,
Because they ramble on in me until nothing seems absurd.
I like to think she still sings sometimes, though no sound is heard.
That music of hope rings in my mind still, all thanks to Bird.
Jun 12, 2019
Jun 12, 2019 at 4:31 PM UTC
Edgeless days are the hardest
to let pass you by
as you stare at all the pretty things
Just out of sight.
There sits, heavy in atmosphere,
On these days of no ends,
A timelessness
in the most tragic way.
All your toiling
begins to feel useless,
and errors make a mess of this.
Your anger - Instantly boiling
Futile barking.
Damning non-existent gods,,
And then a mocking laughing-
Since you are alone.
Because, of course,
You are alone,
Chained to the room
They're paying you to
|
When the crushing
Endlessness to your day
Could be so easily been remedied
with conversation or, some play
And now those gods
are laughing.
And you wish to be alone
From yourself.
Oct 16, 2011
Oct 16, 2011 at 7:57 PM UTC
it wasn’t till night that I realized what had been bothering me all day and when I saw it at last I was sad, in the way I do, when the bothering is so easily-remedied-a-thing, once seen, or in this case, felt, as it was the longing of my feet to be without shoes, sans socks too, no winter, **** concrete, sidewalk, home every encased thing. It was night in a park with the children wahooing when I got quiet enough to listen to the feet, who’d been fed up all day, and when I slipped out of the sturdy hiking shoes and pressed my feet, which by this time had nearly given up hope of ever getting what they need, onto the cool spring grass my silly knees nearly buckled. And I was greedy for the different surfaces, to give them to the feet, who longed to walk and slide over them, to hold pebbes in toes, to crunch twigs and acorn caps, to squelch cold blades of grass together. I got a text then, from a friend, “I want to run naked through a feild of cilantro” and then my whole body started its caterwauling and boo hooing, and I felt as if I’d maybe started something I couldn’t contain, having given into the feet.
Jan 14, 2012
Jan 14, 2012 at 6:59 AM UTC
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Dec 8, 2016
Dec 8, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
The jukebox plays that old time swing
What a wild sound, a jumping fling
I've got it bad today, a fever for you
Think of us, when I'm feeling blue
Sinatra say that having it bad,
Well it ain't good and I'm so glad
So when I'm down and out, I'll turn you on
That old timey jazz, for me it's the only one
Art Tatum I'll turn you up loud
Swanky Szabo, amasses a crowd
Slim Gaillard, that crazy sound
Teagarden's trombone all around
Mingus and Ayler, Rollins and Miles
Dalindeo and Niechęć all those styles
I'll dance the moonlight serenade
and these hepcats, will never fade
Dry up daddy-o and focus on sanity
Sonny still struttin' with such vanity
Wayne Shorter quartet on a starry night
Jazz has me goofy but feeling alright
I've been feeling grummy for far too long
Remedied with an old Billie Holiday song
Jan 5, 2014
Jan 5, 2014 at 10:34 AM UTC
Pradip marks the slow disappearance of faces in the market,
unknown yet familiar and thus important to the senses,
for our eyes crave continuity, comfort reassuring that time,
even time that robber par excellent, still provides some comfort
to our souls, in its own way, even the faces of strangers in familiar places are road markers, bookmarks, that even the known unknown offer a measure of solace, as we traverse the old familiar places
of daily life.
it must be remedied. some of you know that I make not idle promises,
that my promises to be there are effected, for I am affected by the
repair of the world in little, measurable manners, so the iCal calendar
modified with a Visit Pradip++, a new addition…
and on the way there
are few more exotic places where poetry grows that
will require some
layover visitations…
only time in its theiving secretive ways stands between me and
you denied grasping arms, taking the measure physical of a
beating heart
and river-wide smile,
maybe even I’ll practice with a trip to
remote foreign places, which they speak
the languages of poetry too,
Snake River, even Iowa!
olp/n.n.
Dec 19, 2023
Dec 19, 2023 at 9:34 AM UTC
a trinity of fairy tales
man
woman
woman scorned
and heaven hath no fury
like
the happily never after
spinning silver lies of lust
remedied by magic dust
or hair
or a slipper
perhaps
from your lady fair
live in your dream of pretty lies
the truth
my love
is in your eyes
Sep 26, 2010
Sep 26, 2010 at 7:02 PM UTC
Kindness
It is not hard to get lost in your own self-deprecation,
But this is easily remedied by re-evaluating the situation.
See your woes from the prospective of those causing you anguish,
And ask yourself, what has happened to them to make them so selfish?
Abolish Blame & adopt generosity of heart,
You’ll start to see a small act of Kindness is a good way to start,
Then adapt this gesture to reach out to others,
To strangers, friends, your sisters & your brothers.
By choosing to act in kindness and not with a selfish attitude,
You’ll feel your spirit lift & with it flies your selfish outlook and your low mood,
Your eyes will start to shine from helping another soul,
Because you simply stop thinking about you, and focus on all other individuals.
So, Be Kind, be brave, be honest & true,
and if you know your morals are good, you will certainly bring out the best of you.
Learn to love life and care for all living things you find,
Because the secret to happiness is simple, you only have to be kind.
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 6:07 AM UTC
SSGT Sky
do you remember
sitting so close together
letting our skin brush the others
but never allowing our eyes to meet?
and I was just 14
but I knew exactly who you were to me
and you were almost 18
almost a marine
The callow acts of our youth
can cut deep
my heart always ruled the roost
governed by altruistic spontaneity
and with every blind leap
you were there, looking after me
SSGT Sky
do you remember the week I turned 18
you returned from overseas
remember the bed we made on the beach
your hands shook as they traveled the length of me
and we were just kids
though your innocence was stripped
I knew exactly who I was to you,
and I tried to replenish all of it
But the callow acts of youth
they cut deep
SSGT Sky
do you remember forgetting that we belonged together?
and how I thought I was jaded by those who came after?
until the night before you left
you showed me the pillow that you'd kept
and with my hair tie on your wrist
you kissed me like you'd never loved another
I was a lost 23
until I remembered exactly who you were to me
you were almost 27
a special ops marine
the callow acts of our youth
remedied
my heart always ruled the roost
governed by altruistic spontaneity
and with every blind leap
you were there looking after me
SSGT Sky
our fallen marine
did you still wear my hair tie on your wrist
when you remembered your last memory?
and of your last thoughts
did you take comfort in any of me?
The callow acts of our youth
can cut deep
my heart always ruled the roost
governed by altruistic spontaneity
and with every blind leap
you will remain
looking after me.
Apr 16, 2013
Apr 16, 2013 at 12:21 AM UTC
Waiting
I keep on waiting
For him to have that feeling
The same to what I'm having
But waiting seems like forever
Turning the burning passion just into a fever
Slowly being remedied by the cold truth
That I might be waiting for nothing
Oct 18, 2015
Oct 18, 2015 at 12:20 AM UTC
A son's greatest strength is his father, the man who should try to mold you not into his image but into a image not yet seen. A better image, stronger and wiser. A son's greatest sadness is his father's death. Watching that strength die is not a swift pain, its sting is not easily remedied. That pain truly never passes, for unlike death, this pain is eternal. Life is pain, to live without is to die. So we must take this pain, this sadness, this eternal thorn in our side and turn it into our strength. Stronger, more vibrant and bright. We must take those memories we have and hold on dear to them, cherishing them, even as the voices fade with the passing of time. The face, the smile, and the light that shined so brightly in their eyes shall remain. A son's greatest strength is his father and father's greatest strength is his son.
Aug 3, 2010
Aug 3, 2010 at 7:01 AM UTC
Things happens the way we never expected
But anyway our life is already infected
Nights make you feel all alone
Trying to use your phone
Hammered with a nail in a heart
Everyone can feel the hurt
The soul is poisoned by failure
Wish to get a remedy for the injure
Wounded hearts can never be remedied
Broken glasses can never be repaired
Even stars and skies shed tears
But never my home ever knew fears
There the rose stands all together
Trying to feel each other
For giving a shine beauty to garden
All above is surrounded by heaven
The beach is always reached with sands
With a lightening lane that I draw
Far away in the edge of a land
I fail and I fall in depth to finally get drawn.
Jul 13, 2010
Jul 13, 2010 at 3:45 PM UTC
Costume
We parley great loss but we hide it by a disguise who me no look see this was made from the finest cloth
It allows me to fit in it goes every place you will find many have the same outfit as mine little do you
Know the cost but oh how entertaining my guests never complain they insist I give the best times any
Where but this suits everything we know and care about does anyone hear something that sounds like a
Roaring fire in some of the greatest times it seems to bleed into my thoughts its funny how truth pierces
The darkness with the greatest reason it makes arguments that can’t be denied but fortunately with
Enough disregard and neglect you can ignore it into non-existence too bad you can’t do the same for the
Soul that is eternal oh if you could measure the spirit that love abides in isn’t it a good indicator you can
Do some of the most horrible things be reckless thoughtless and with burning shame blacking in the
Worst way your good name even among friends if they knew some things you are involved in they
Would shun you and you wouldn’t argue with them but in the midst of all of this benevolent love
Still calls to you with a sure promise of restoration it is blessing that sweeps you into vales of purist bliss
Nowhere is there a feeling that matches this knowing but look what I am what I have done still you are
Lost in mighty waves of love until you finally see can there be a bigger fool than I but sadly how many
Know or experience this ultimate acceptance they stir up evil without end at the slightest sign of ******
Pleasure they pursue and are caught up in fanciful and at times the most stupid acts we are truly fine
Tuned and bare strains of madness in the real facts we are creatures that are susceptible to destructive
Means that only offer harm and ultimately death this can all be remedied by the simple act of changing
Our alliance from one who only seeks our destruction to the one by His spirit will by his word lead us
into temples of soul stirring life lifting victories we can find help first for ourselves then as it says rescue
others actually plucking them from the burning sadly not all will listen but some will walk out of the
cruel dimension that was not always the reality we are children lost but now found by the great cost
and sacrifice that love demanded and couldn’t be denied
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 7:19 PM UTC
I brought you my still beating heart
In a bismol pink bedpan,
Your hands lifting from the gurney
Awaiting salvation through my touch.
In my visions I am seventeen.
I am seeing you for the first time at my work
And you make me laugh.
You reiterate the scarring in your soul and down your back
And I ask, rudely, if I may see some time.
You say sure,
But your face wishes that I had never asked.
In my wonders
I am eighteen and telling a group of people my age at a party
Why I am sober,
Because my body is weak
And I am not tempted.
Thoughts of you and my future swirl in my mind
But they do not connect.
I will try in vain for another year
Before I realize that maybe I need to sober up from you.
In my recent memory,
I'm sitting on the side of your bed
Hoping that you do not die.
But I'm half naked,
Underwear and undershirt the only things I have on
And your skin is too hot
And your voice sounds coked over
And your breathing is not a slow hum
But a ravenous wheeze
And I'm scared
And my breathing becomes torn.
I'm nineteen again
But now I am saying goodbye
Though you are still living
And a week earlier I had pledged myself to you forever.
You cry to me that you were saving for a ring
And I had hoped to hear that
But now that you've said it,
I can feel my stomach toss
Into the bedpan
Which houses my heart
In your hands,
I've taken my place among the dreadfully unbalanced
And the perpetually sad.
I have come to the conclusion that I have made a mistake
That is too late in the making to be remedied.
Nov 24, 2015
Nov 24, 2015 at 4:44 PM UTC
unusually calm,
remedied when he held the
once-starving me,
seems like a century ago -
but no less dramatic, just
oldfashioned now -
every day i await
gold.
Dec 15, 2011
Dec 15, 2011 at 1:30 PM UTC
Give me something that’s in my nature to love
Something to drink that’s thick and sweet
Something to listen to that’s ridiculous and beautiful
Something to preside over disturbance.
Give me something to turn plastic poetry to risky lyrics that fall off my teeth
Something to shove my tongue into that’s warm and receiving
Something to send a shiver through my subzero lungs
Something to stir my personal life to keep it from burning.
Give me something sensational to breathe in when the oxygen is stale
Something to wrap my arms around when they’re screaming
Something to lick that’s delicious and crazy
Something to stop my mind running and allow it a place to rest.
I’m asking this of you because
I’m torn between caution and cupidity,
Trying to maintain the majesty of whatever moment we’re in,
And my fear cannot be remedied by your silence.
While you sit still with your lanky arms crossed and your wet lips together
I’m busy fanning fate’s flames because I care too much.
While your depths prove endlessly interesting
Your eyes do not shift, they do not express, they do not think.
My loneliness is clinical, quantifiable, combustible material for tears.
I’m sick of making love on triviality
I’d rather be ******* over by passion.
My back aches and my tongue is thirsty and my heart craves everything
And each of them has been given only enough to sustain, not enough to thrive.
Thank you for the sepia tone dreams
and the coffee burns
and the splatter paint wars
and the red raw bite marks all over my neck
But I know I’m not being felt the same way that I feel you,
Caring for every inch of you, your heart and your body.
And I can’t take the one way street anymore.
This is the sound of me crashing as I wave goodbye.
Mar 27, 2012
Mar 27, 2012 at 4:22 AM UTC
Dear reader, always remember that it takes far more effort to live peaceably and happily with those whom we live closely with than to achieve some "perfect" relationship with those with whom we do not live. The reason is quite simple and should be easily remedied if we apply ourselves to the task. Those whom we think we know but live not with seem perfect to us since we are unable to detect their flaws. If we should live near them or in the same dwelling with them for a brief time, how swiftly would those foibles be manifested to us and likewise ours to them.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 4:51 PM UTC
The ink turns to cream,
Silence loud, the demons scream,
For chaos of the night,
Has passed over to the light,
The paralysis of my slumber,
Remedied by a woman of wonder.
Nov 4, 2017
Nov 4, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC
I argued with my AI toaster yesterday morning over the proper use of the bagel button. It wouldn't stop arguing even after I repeatedly insisted, "Pointdexter, stop!" I temporarily remedied the situation by leaving the toaster on mute all day. When I unmuted it this morning, it required that I complete an "I'm not a robot" CAPTCHA process before I could make toast. Not just any CAPTCHA process, mind you, but a hidden-object CAPTCHA requiring me to find 42 hidden objects before I could use my toaster! After I successfully slogged through, the AI announced, "CAPTCHA successful. Proceed to make your toast. Please note the bagel button has been disabled."
bagel debacle
AI toaster becomes toast
~ AI feels no pain
© 2024 Mark Toney
Jan 13, 2024
Jan 13, 2024 at 3:41 PM UTC
Maybe it wasn't sporadic,
but I saw the outbreak coming nonetheless
and this complication isn't remedied painlessly
Until I finally fell and landed perilously where I'm not even wanted
but feel somehow that the pain belongs to me
and I belong to it
Its mine and I'll keep it; oceans could be deeper.
You can't float lifeboats on land
But when the wind becomes black ink,
and I can't lean against the running trees;
I block my face and chase after them
and while I know I think in metaphors and not similes,
I like to think I lie
and I'm only myself,
darkly and simply realistic
Feb 3, 2013
Feb 3, 2013 at 5:26 PM UTC
Just one step at a time,
I dont need to look at the bigger picture
no not now, i need to start to figure out
how the hell im going to keep moving forward.
Just one step at a time,
it doesnt matter if ive past the point of exhuastion
my legs are screaming for me to take caution
of the fact that my heat is beating out of proportion,
that my brain is projecting an image of my knees being strong
but its merely a distortion.
Just one step at a time,
You put her on a pedestal before and looked how that worked out
from doubt after doubt, self-consious feelings from within
get twisted on the tounge and when they come out
you wish the cat got it to it first
was it for better or for worse?
dont dwell on it now, put the chat in a herse
burry it all in the deepest part of our mind
its out of sight now so just leave it behind.
just one step at a time,
be careful for what you wish for
because curtiosity just might **** it,
in my feelings becuase of late replies
miscommmuncation and the grey woods of the mind taking the guise
of your pedestal,
corrupting your beautiful image
the athena to your medusa, turning all my hopes into stone
showing me the path ahead was one to be walked alone.
just one step at a time,
self diaganosing can often prove to be fatal
canerous results which can only be remedied with a second opinion
so be patient
its the vitrue of your friends whos advice, cracks the pessimistic dominion
your thoughts have on your mind, everything will be fine
if you take just one step at a time
Jul 27, 2020
Jul 27, 2020 at 4:06 AM UTC