"renege" poems
in the end
people are really disappointing
aren't they?
it's like they make a few loose statements
just to make theirselves comfortable
but once we trust
they have no intention
to follow their promises
with action
Feb 9, 2021
Feb 9, 2021 at 6:40 PM UTC
*Today I saw a tiny bubble
Dodging damp bullets between
***** sidewalks and blackened drains--
The rain of colors swirled in a world
Inverted, and my renege sister stared;
Caged, as she was, by such fragile walls of air.*
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 8:56 PM UTC
Renege your crown and open vast
These gates within a troubled past
Embrace anew the morning dew
That knows that naught in life it true
And that is why they hang so thin
A film upon the early din
To burn away with fiery light
All to return with waning night
To live and die and live once more
Perhaps upon a forest floor
a field, a hill, a lonely glen,
Forever born to die again
Forever forced to thrive and ebb,
A diamond for a spider's web.
Nov 24, 2011
Nov 24, 2011 at 5:24 AM UTC
Today I saw the future.
It was not an image nor a video.
But an idea.
The idea of a new tomorrow without
you in it.
Today I stood out in the darkness.
Relishing the heat of the artificial
light burning my skin.
I am here, again since forever ago.
Today I broke my vow to love.
Her gentle hair now awash with
the blood of my betrayal.
I will no longer protect her.
And with that I renege my promise.
Today I stand over the body of her corpse with another.
Her name echos in the wind "Tarah".
My life, like everyone elses.
Like every event
every star
every universal constant
in the multiverse.
goes on.
Today life happened.
Just like yesterday.
Just like the day before that.
On those days I stood before you.
Now there is only a shadow Desperately chasing it's body as it walks away.
Away being god to another.
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 3:22 AM UTC
What is it hereby that I seeith?
Unardent archetypes,
Renege cards to swipe for fast food,
Archaic since long ago!!!!!
Aristrocratics art thou?
Greedied dollared frenzies,
A meal plus ten for thine own family?
What about thy neighbor?
The one on thine street,
Doused in fluids, puke and safekeeps,
Not enough for him?
Thou furtive frugal!!!!!!!
Yea!!!
Tuck thine own pocket back in,
Dont let him seeith all you have to giveth!!!
Unlargess you!!!!!
As this old sphere genuflects in circlet motion,
To thine loved ones all time and and thy devotion thou giveth not to thine own family,
But to slot machines?
Thou maverick!!!!
Thine phene!!!!!
Fast food havens hath become brothels of aspirin taking needed,
Once a day,
For all unclotting!!!!
Protracting thy fateful health oh invertebrate?
Trying to live to one hundred?
Afraid for thy soul to pass?
What's wrong? No god? No faith at last?
Provident to failure!!!!!
Virulent art thou,
For thine work thou has made a surplus!!!!
Skipping thy wife's needs?
For forty hours of volition and lust??????!!!!!!!!
Visionary of demonous audacity!!!!!!
Thine own path is manifest and lamenting!!!!
For art thouest not repenting of thy fast lived paradox?
I'm a cynic to thine own trust!!!!!
May 19, 2015
May 19, 2015 at 5:19 AM UTC
Sympathisers breed then seek for Revenge
Due to these Hassles which caused some to Fear
Of this Price my own break my Deeds renege
For my Passions burn their Punishments sear
Should these Rumours prove else leave you in Peace
Or bite these Days still your Business go numb
Such Energy managed yet out of your Fleece
Painless, Soothing then Decay my Thoughts dumb
Thus the Harper: The Sum of his Portrait
Urgently prescribed for a Fresher Life
To skip Addiction; Else hook a Finer Bait
One whose Wheels spin naughtier than his Strife.
Dramatic, this Bug - soon stomped by one's Shoe
Till he Bleeds more Sense than the Avid Flu.
Jul 26, 2013
Jul 26, 2013 at 2:37 AM UTC
could we rewrite promises as renege
can we alter our language
to be something
more
honest?
because
promises are made
but are inevitably
shattered
ignored
forgotten
so
can we alter the english language?
because
who are we kidding
indefinitely
promise is to renege
as
you are to a liar
Mar 25, 2013
Mar 25, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
Moving with the speed of light,
Towards the cave of thoughts in your mind.
Welcome me with open arms,
I’d love the essence of it.
Be humane and don’t
refrain me from coming
as I plan a renege.
Why won’t you let me find out
from your eyes?
Why would you ruse me?
Make me understand
your idiosyncrasy .
Let me live in your little hut
For it is sanctum to me.
For you are my savior.
My soul ignites.
Scarlet and bright.
And I shall seethe…
Tell me! Oh tell me, you.
Please don’t shudder!
Ah…It’s an insinuation.
Apr 4, 2014
Apr 4, 2014 at 2:44 PM UTC
my poems aren't a pastime
they're a way to state
my emotions, and past crimes
and ally my boiling hate
my emotion can't be bottled
i'd be stared at like a big ***
so i decided to be a model
to those who renege fast
i want people to learn from my transgressions
or at least have a sense of pride
be a symbol of progression
and if not i can still say i tried.
my poems aspire to be a cashier and make change
and to mold meek, mindless minds
so nothing will be out of their range
so just know my poetry is of this kind
Nov 1, 2014
Nov 1, 2014 at 7:12 PM UTC
The game.
All about playing the cards right,
one slip up, and you could bring your team down.
You could lose the game.
To play the cards, takes time and patience.
You will renege,
You will take your partner's trick.
It's a learning process,
never gotten on the first try.
Never give up, because in the end,
You will be dealt a lay down loner.
Oct 3, 2016
Oct 3, 2016 at 7:46 PM UTC
Again?
Little bits of paper set little boys and girls awake. Paper is the voice, it is the rush, and it plays against the spirit of the rough. Some had hands in favor, some made famous from their toils. Across the bridges, into harm, extreme liking finds a way to plant their dreams. A courageous haunt for storytellers fashioning fictitious love in the vocals of these pleasure scenes.
A gasp at poison sells us. Two legs is all it took- the fanciest of the 399 lives, stitched across the faces of all his slaves. Some hide behind the moon, in the shadow of its glow. Some depart him, only to remark, and take up the King James Bible in a fight to eradicate some half-lie half-truth tale. Some take up their histories. Some track down their accusers. Some just watch the show.
If ever was a prophet, material or fake. A flip of the light switch rewinds the days, while a new trial of words ghastly fails. If ever was a wind to whip the rocking torments of joy into a smooth flowing dressage of subtle paper cuts and clues, lusts on paper and ***** petite memes cloaked in the vast inertia of the West. Rags piled high as riches, short denim shorts worn publicly before each and every oval and square, curious domain names gang bang the brain to forget the old complaints, renege on values once comparable or the same.
Only in this world, today, strangers bed each other and misspell the chants beaten into their acute proclivities for breaking the law, while purposely opening their mouths on soap boxes, and orchestrating the papers’ coolness through the grid and onto the plane. The work of the slaves is the accord to which forewords tune gravity.
This is the paper taking down cities. This is the worship building anarchy in its own members. This is the end of the call and the beginning of the caste. These are the mute and colorless stains on the walls, and the childhood loves of an adult that colorfully decorate the dormitory in his past with the clutter and occupancy that curtails to no complaint. There is the paper and there is the gain. Will any of them ever be human again?
May 25, 2018
May 25, 2018 at 5:50 AM UTC
Insanity watched by these eyes far away
Sees the tail wag the dog in a deathly, cruel way,
Sees the Gun Lobby wield such a formidable grip
Holding Nation to ransom and shoot from the hip,
Forcing public opinion to heel and rescind
Any right to renege on the madness infringed…
Orlando, Kileen Sandy Hook and Fort Hood
Killing randomly, callously….not understood!
Little children, students, shoppers and cops
Loud bark of the rimfire till emptied and stops!
A terrible silence, warm stench of the blood
Cold terror emanates out and above…
Madness accelerates, reaching a SCREAM….
While political acolytes adjust…to be seen.
M.
Auckland and the world watching a civilization burn.
13 June 2016
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 12:14 AM UTC
Just a dope, a mean
A dopamine
Irregular sanguine
Embroiled canteen
Surreal sunscreen
Renege lights beam
Convolute contorted
Diversely distorted
Whimsically imported
Virago recorded
Guffaws retracted
Divulged esoteric tactics
Disregarded semantics
No real advantage
Indigenous transient
Final message transmit
The wavelength extent
Doomed irrelevant
Vicariously elegant
Mar 8, 2017
Mar 8, 2017 at 9:17 AM UTC
Neither have I silver nor gold
Surely know I have soul
With less dismay but bold
I'll let wild out my goal
This would be a resource manual
To rate thy giver to earth
This would be a great trial
To the eves of the earth
Nine rounds of thirty day's understatement
Every round of two hundred and seventy
Days would suit the statement
No merry, no joy but groan plenty
Out of the mind, I'll boldly write
To the eves of the nation
Against the serpent we'll fight
To appease man of creation
Sounds the voice of the traitor
"Take and be unveilely wise"
"where're you" is the voice of the creator
"We're naked" false wisdom in his eyes rise
Forgive us father, suit all mothers
That groan, strive'll be less
At the giving stage. No bothers
Of crucial bitterness but happiness
Oh God, see the folks through
Whom absence is their mother
Know I you are thee true
To present their mind with no bother
Their minds fill with love
Their souls fill with strong aim
That they'll not renege. Above
All, affable care, give to them
Was I to earth by great woman
Ebony black, one'f her feutures
Ago, now aged, by her man
Yeah, you'll confirm by pictures
Either have I soul, mind or hand
I'll celebrate mothers in no dismay
Present, past, to show thee love in kind
To thee all, blessed mothers day
Mar 16, 2021
Mar 16, 2021 at 7:34 AM UTC
To grieve of death before it knows to come
Is lack of chance for sin a soul to take.
Because the dread of loss can leave one numb
Though calls our faults are prone err make.
Having nothing on which to base our dares,
The doom befalls those who, amid fear, live.
If such merchant ne’er sold hands wrought his wares,
Then for profit fruits of labor ne’er give.
Pointless it is to not amount forwards,
To fear the end and not live through the start.
In speech in rhymes you fool renege your words,
Till from this world your lies disgrace; depart.
And when your death its sting comes back for you,
Perhaps the fear and fire of hell will change the view.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
The sun had set on the mountain top
Before we could get away,
I hadn’t wanted to drive by night
But rather the light of day,
The sky was filled with a ghostly glow
The last few rays of the sun,
When I drove out to the open road,
Our journey had just begun.
I’d promised that I would get her there
I wasn’t going to renege,
She must have asked me a dozen times,
Was even beginning to beg,
I said, ‘They’re going to be waiting there
No matter how late we are,
They won’t be starting without you, girl,
For you are the principle star.’
That calmed her down, she was mollified,
Though she’d been upset for days,
She worried that she’d be there too late,
She’d said, in a blank dismay,
She thought it was such an honour to
Be picked as the chosen one,
‘I’ve never been picked for anything,
Before,’ was the song she sung.
We nosed down into the valley as
The darkness turned to grim,
With only the beam of the headlights
Like a tunnel we were in,
‘It seems to be taking a lifetime,’
Was the only thing she said,
‘I know, but the end of a lifetime is
The time that you are dead.’
She’d paid especial attention to
The dress she had to wear,
Had glossed her lips and had rouged her cheeks
And had tidied up her hair,
I paid her the best of compliments
That I knew she wanted to hear,
And told her that I was proud of her,
On this special night of the year.
We finally came to a grove of trees
And we turned our headlights in,
Throwing fantastic shadows as our
Wheels began to spin,
We stopped just under a giant oak
And I said, ‘We’re here at last.
You’re certain you want to go through with it?’
She said, ‘It will be a blast!’
Then shapes came out of the grove of trees
Wearing hoods and capes of black,
They gathered around the car, and stood
And stared, on that forest track,
When Emily went to join them they
Stood back to let her pass,
And led her into a clearing where
She lay down, on the grass.
It was then they began their chanting
Like a choir in a church,
Rising and falling, lilting, it was fine
And yet a dirge,
For then a man danced into the ring
Who wore the head of a goat,
From under his cape he drew a knife,
Leant down, and cut her throat.
David Lewis Paget
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 3:52 AM UTC
Let's rewrite a poem for you,
No apologias to Byron 102,
Oh bowls of spew, Oh bowls of spew,
Stale weeties they wouldn't waste on you,'
Where once I cooked bacon and eggs,
For privileges don't even beg,
On your blackmail, I renege,
Oh bowls of spew, oh bowls of spew,
More than your family would waste on you,
No apologias to Byron 102......
Jan 19, 2017
Jan 19, 2017 at 7:24 PM UTC
Here in Oz, they're banning fairy tales,
Indeed, a giggle did not fail,
Children's lit must be correct politically,
Here's the new style ode for thee,
Listen up and you shall see.
Skippy has two mummies,
Their boyfriends spat the dummies,
Now Skippy's mums got preg,
Their boyfriends did renege,
So along came little Skippy,
Hopping off to eat Mr. Whippy,
Yes, totally correct politically,
New fairy tales for the kiddies,
Skippy has two mummies,
Our norms do change, it seems....
Apr 6, 2017
Apr 6, 2017 at 4:48 AM UTC