"repayment" poems
~
*Tonight underneath debris
Family foreclosure
...
Heaven's legs dawn through window
Offer artificial hope
...
Employee to love
Dressed for escape
...
Pleasure town angel
A multi-colored pretty thing
...
Mom questions way
Daughter drives to parties
...
Empty lips talk
**** reflection patterns
...
Death inside mom and dad
Beautifully cold skin
...
War god kiss
Midnight blue people (at dinner table)
...
Young shadows flower
Final stars fire
...
Money born cloud
Raining on remnants of family
...
Is there nothing
Left to mortgage?*
~
Jul 4, 2025
Jul 4, 2025 at 9:49 AM UTC
My body is frozen and my heart is filled with dread,
I see her shock with the shaking of her head,
I screamed out “NO” and offered to take Prim’s place,
Effie called his name to and we went up with haste,
They took us to a room where we said our goodbyes,
I promised to win as I started to cry,
The group was quiet as we boarded the train,
I meet out mentor Haymitch and he seemed far from sane,
We meet the other tributes all different in size,
Some seemed very foolish but other seemed wise,
We practice all day to make sure we were fit,
For the pain we will endure will be far worse than just a hit,
I know I should save Peeta as a repayment of my debt,
But I remember my promise to prim and I’m filled with regret,
After I say goodbye to Cinna I see the Arena and feel pain,
Why did Peeta and I both have to be in the Hunger games.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:01 AM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
It is the 30th day of the months in Kenya
State and corporate capitalist have now paid their workers
Wages or salaries or stipends or emoluments all being remunerations
While the rural bourgeoisie and urban bourgeoisie have also paid ex-gratia
To relatives come over-aged workers who have declined retiring
For the fear of looming starvation if at all they go home, where they were born,
Nonetheless; proceed they receive will do nothing whatsoever
As it will be stifled by the monster of desperate consumerism;
So fat and gullible in this tiger of land in the region called Kenya;
The terror peddling rent, courtesy of ruthlessness of the landlord
Bills of electric power in their full monopolistic gear
Bills of water devoid of quality, indifferent dysentery monger
Wages for maid who keep on usurping the food of my child; milk
Bills for gas, all of it redolent of comprador bourgeoisie in fashion,
Hotel and bar bill - a surreptious one, as the bar girl only knows
Airtime and renewal, TV channels and other screen capitalistic ploys
Family trip to local resort in a feat of foolish consumerist venture,
Money to the old mother at home and, sometimes depraved but patient father
ARV’s money to my *** aids stricken sister at the village, my aunt also
Tuition fees for my son at the kindergarten, who goes to schools but learns nothing
fees balance which my wife has to pay at the tailor to ransom out her dress,
M-Pesa and M-Swari loan repayment, this only for Kenyan 30th dayers
They know the agony of dealing with Kenyan mega-capitalist safaricom ltd.
This consumerism and **** consumerism,
It is the menacing bane of the Kenyan poor
It is the avaricious tube which siphons back
The hard earned money from pockets of the poor
Back to despotic account of the pitiless world pigshotry.
Feb 28, 2014
Feb 28, 2014 at 9:35 AM UTC
I gave you my love,
Made your heart feel the love,
And yet you denied my love.
I was to love you,
You and I forever.
Say you love me,
That is all I ask.
Say you need me,
As I need you.
Say this love is,
Is the love of a life time.
You shall remorse the night
You took my love.
For I the dark angel
Want repayment with
Your blood.
I will be the voice in the wind,
The voice which will haunt
Your dreams.
The voice which will
Call to you.
You were once my
Everything, the only
Thing that had mattered.
Then my love was
Shattered, wishing you were
Once again near.
Sometimes if it seemed if
I had just dreamed again,
You would be here.
The irony of the dream
Is you never came,
But I will every night,
And haunt your desire.
You shall pay
Pay for this with blood.
I will get my fulfillment
From haunting your thoughts.
That fate which will
Condemn you to
Wallow in blood,
This fate which you
Choose that night.
The night you decide to
Behold the love I gave you
For granted.
I shall not take compassion
In you,
I will now take a diminutive
Vial of Blood!
Just a sufficient amount to make
You never awake
This dream state again.
You will pay for your sins,
Which will haunt you
For an eternity.
I shall sentence my lover,
Sentence her to death,
This is the choice you have made,
My angel.
For whichever way you
Decide you will not win.
You deceived me,
Now it is time to meet
Your destiny.
Bleed my angel,
And before long we shall unite,
Once again.
Breath deep,
Bleed fast,
Pay for your sins
And die for me.
Jun 12, 2013
Jun 12, 2013 at 2:35 PM UTC
There’s a dark grotto
Under the sea
With shelves and shelves
Of bottles
Clear, glass bottles
All of my secrets
A carefully watched castle
The middle of a concentric series of impassable walls
Surrounded by a forest of kelp
With razor-sharp teeth
And then the narwhals
The narwhal guards
Armed to the teeth with halibut-slicing knives
Their three-meter horns
Gleaming in the moonlight
Guarding
All of my secrets
Skeletons, trespassers of yore,
Strewn about the seafloor
Bones picked clean
By the scavenging *****
No one can enter
No one can leave
The grotto with the shelves
Shelves and shelves of clear, glass bottles
All of my secrets
But as for the *****
For the first time in centuries
The sunlight warms the waters
Melts the kelp
Kisses the narwhals
Buries the bones and torments the scavengers
Clearing away the darkness
A nonstop route through the castle
Protecting
All of my secrets
The tendrils of photons creep along
Wary
Ready for a fight
The grotto growls menacingly
Unguarded
For the first time in centuries
But upon the first touch -
Light meets stone -
The sea shudders
Ecstasy
And in repayment for salvation
Out come the bottles
Floating to the surface
Bathing in the light
All of my secrets
May 19, 2010
May 19, 2010 at 3:20 PM UTC
I'm wasting my money away,
Like its alive and running astray.
My first pay check disappeared,
Before they knew what they feared.
When I'm down and oppressed,
The one way I can still express,
That I'm myself, not any less,
Is to spoil myself with things in excess.
My mother clearly thinks I'm stupid,
That I'm only young and deluded.
And my father, with his selfish sneers,
Expects monetary repayment for a debt of 18 years.
So with their own uneducated impressions,
And their age-induced mindset regressions,
They give in to their control obsessions,
And provoke all my hidden depressions.
And when I can't make use of drugs,
Or feel the pleasure of lustful hugs,
The only thing I've left to do,
The only way to make it through,
Is spend and spend all that I can,
Use all what's left inside my hand,
Prove that all their reprimand,
Has no authority, gives no command.
Yet the only purpose for all this ridiculous strife,
Is to demonstrate that I'm the one who controls my life.
Jan 15, 2015
Jan 15, 2015 at 10:39 AM UTC
When the silence takes the stage,
and I am called upon to perform, oh what a fool I shall be.
Dance monkey dance they'll say, and dance I shall.
On all fours I crawl,
your *****
Leash me up
in a tight collar
speaking for your laughter.
Here it is,
my self respect,
I present it to you,
I give it all, unto you.
For I no longer need it.
It's a small price to pay for this life.
It's a simple token
for the price of a fancy gown,
for the reward of approval... from strangers.
To be able to buy that fancy car
To be the envy of it all.
To be admired...
For this handsome repayment
loss of self worth
seems nothing.
and it is nothing
until late at night
when I stare at my skinny bones
in a large
but empty apartment
with the city's lights
shadows dancing out my regrets on the walls,
reminiscing of the whole person I used to be.
when I was someone you could respect...
someone who could say no
and had control
and didn't live under constant contract
and scrutiny of the monster that is the media.
Late at night,
with a morning soon coming,
a morning filled
with my stripped body
contorting itself
and writhing
for the camera
to please a generation I will never know.
To flaunt materialism
and narcissism
expected to sound sagacious
and preach this deceitful verisimilitude
but teaching the youth
to be broken and hateful-
to live with these quixotic expectations.
and
it
is
disgusting.
Yet here I am.
Stripped,
broken and battered,
pouting my photoshop lips
and limp, sick body
to preach it day after day.
For It was so long ago,
that I was respectable.
perhaps I could better remember those days-
but in this life
with a restriction on ennui
you are not allowed to be anything but
deliriously content
and that is not a problem so long as this bottle doesn't run out,
so long as I keep swallowing these pills,
drowning out the voice
that despises me.
So long as I keep on acting.
Oct 29, 2013
Oct 29, 2013 at 1:59 AM UTC
~for Ketoma Rose~
money, far far easier for me
to gift, give, loan it out,
with very generous terms
of no repayment due
indeed, with my luck down,
the less I have,
the easier it is to share...
perfectly sensible to me
living with giving hands
and a
giving mouth
know that I know
that there are
a handful of you,
who read me with affection,
loyalty and a kind tenderness,
I cannot ever repay
so it makes me guilty+crazy,
keeps me up at night,
these obligations that cannot be
repaid without the hard work of
patient poem-waiting for inspiration
that comes so easily
only when it's ready
***and this day I am ready
to pay down, pay toward,
please forward, give what
you have taken from me,
the pleasure of stating,
an adoration of thanksgiving,
a joining so profound,
that once found,
cannot be lost***
and you dear reader,
can't fully share, or see these
gratitude-tears-I-am-currently-shedding
but voyeuring come along with the
knowing insight that I would want you too...
so you write from where your heart's
rip tides
rip you open and wider,
yet so oft it falls into the tears in
the pockets of only holes and neglect,
and you, ego-weak human
cannot understand
just how that can be...
but there you are,
Ketoma Rose,
by any and all your names,
liking my words,
and I crease wetness
upon my face tracks
wondering who you are,
and more over
the why
of who you are,
this wondering,
an agonizing
guilty pleasure,
a trouble I just
love having...
but bills must be paid,
and now this debt,
finally tiny-tad dented,
and the fact that the interest
upon it,
grows exponentially
is the
***best debt
I ever was given***
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 10:30 AM UTC
F*ck you for encouraging me to take out more than I needed
F*ck you for not explaining the difference between subsidized and unsubsidized
F*ck you for judging my eligibility based on my parent’s income and not my own
F*ck you for pretending to look out for my best interest
F*ck you for making me decide on whether to pay you, or go to the hospital
F*ck you for harassing me via phone and email
F*ck you for transferring my loans to a different company
F*ck you for asking for money back BEFORE I graduated
F*ck you for asking for money AFTER I graduated with NO job
F*ck you for asking for MORE money after I got a job
F*ck you for transferring my loans to a different company (again)
F*ck you for suggesting a 30year repayment plan
F*ck you for the high interest rates that negate the payments I was able to make
F*ck you for adjusting my repayment plan without my consent
F*ck you for suggesting a lower monthly payment as I crept toward full repayment
F*ck your shoes with the belts on them (Boondocks)
And F*ck Donald Trump
This is America sucka. The land of the free, and home of the brave
Not the sea of debt and house of enslavement
So, Fck you from the bottom of my heart, and if you call me again I’m gonna slap the sht out of you
Goodbye forever
Aug 25, 2017
Aug 25, 2017 at 5:41 PM UTC
delphinium migrant blue,
and into night
we follow,
toward the residue
of morning,
where there's no time
limit to grief.
you wake with
electric intervals,
something's wrong
with yesterday,
in your head are
galaxies like grains of salt,
and they fill up the sky.
these red metallic balloons,
that come to you
when you are ripped open,
whether it’s by pain
and heartache
or you’re falling in love,
these you can’t close
yourself off to.
but what you actually want
is to bypass them,
and try to reach that
dawn serenade,
which is floating
above them,
as if golden electric ribbons
which don’t
demand repayment.
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 12:39 PM UTC
In shaking verse
She writes down the gifts of his divinity.
Her trembling meter pays homage
To the ruby red circles seared onto her skin.
Every stuttering syllable is an offering
That she conjures as a devotee,
Who has defaulted on the repayment
Of words, now long overdue.
He demands epic proportions of gifted wisdom,
He asks for legendary lines in his honour.
He demands for glory to his name,
Written in red.
The patron saint of inspiration
Retains his light,
And casts gifted shadows over her,
As she struggles to her elbows,
Drowning in loud, blank papers.
The patron saint of inspiration
Waits at the altar of poetry,
Watching tributes flow in,
Mounted on her fragile skin
And faded rhymes.
The patron saint of inspiration
Inspects the fabric of the writer's soul,
And passes judgement
On the worth of her tears,
Ever smiling, ever watching.
The patron saint of inspiration
Lures her to the gates of Eden
Only to have her trace her words
In the eternal dust of the ephemeral
Gods that gathers beneath it.
His grace against her fatigue,
His divinity against her anguish.
His grand schemes against her hope
His knowledge against her intrigue.
The patron saint of inspiration
Watches her from the walls within.
The patron saint of inspiration
Encourages her divine sin.
Apr 9, 2016
Apr 9, 2016 at 3:01 AM UTC
In laws, pardon the typo
in the law,
a system of justice,
like the law of averages,
it all equals out in the end,
laws are broken, people bend,
meant not to, break rules of the land,
the court is fair when it demands,
restitution, a repayment of sorts,
the system is in place when a face goes
behind bars,
near or far,
fear or worse,
in a hearse,
thin excuses,
juror recuses,
furor increases,
time decreases,
behind
bars,
penance the menace,
what we need here is some hard time,
under
the thumb of the law,
but the law has no thumbs, only scales,
held in the hand
of a blind maiden,
but what of the parents of a forever lost only child,
but what of the family who loses a father,
or mother, sister and a brother,
but what of a woman who lost her man,
will the maiden step aside and let them
hold the scales,
I think not,
some say the system rots,
the law is devoid of the
emotion,
that those,
who have measured
their lives against a loss,
the experience has burned off the dross,
they are left with pure emotion,
unable to fill the void,
which the law was never meant to do,
we blame society for all sorts of ills,
rather than have society step in and fill,
the void in the law, that is compassion for the victim
the void in society which is not the wrong but to make it right,
the answer,
avoid the law?
no
avoid breaking hearts,
of blind maidens, and
avoid breaking
laws.
Apr 13, 2014
Apr 13, 2014 at 2:18 AM UTC
I am the embodiment of all
things good and trustworthy,
I have a devilishly seductive
smile.
Come on you know you can
trust me, look in to my eyes,
there hypnotizing wouldn't
you say.
''yes I understand''
You know what to do, just sign
on the dotted line, repayment in
ten years then you owe what is mine.
'' I'll sign so it can be mine''
Sign in red on the dotted line,
as he smiles with a raised eyebrow
the deal nearly sealed, you can
trust me, as the black feather tip
scratches across the line.
I am the embodiment of all things
good and trustworthy, he says
and the deal is done, devilishly
he smiles, see you in ten years,
trust me ill back now the deal is done....
May 22, 2014
May 22, 2014 at 9:36 AM UTC
Hesitation made me miss
Opportunities turned into a wish
That I made the effort to be in your midst
I took the present for granted
Now Im haunted by my inaction when I reminisce
Plans pushed off and dismissed
Because I never considered a world in which you didn't exist
Denying delays processing, the news didn't stick
It took a few weeks before the reality hit
My numb stone face fortress diminished to piles of brick
Exposed and vulnerable
I've experienced death but none ever hurt like this
Life is fleeting, death is patient and waiting
Mortal shells fickle, their hold on our spirits strained with the days
The future perpetual in its becoming the past
Our lingering end appears random and quick
Indescriminate is the embrace of demise
Inevitable is its kiss
The debt of borrowed breath will one day seek repayment
Take time today, or spend tomorrow longing and aching
Don't waste life in fear, but never forget
You dont have forever, don't waste it wasting time
All we have is today, tomorrow never comes.
Dec 14, 2024
Dec 14, 2024 at 12:54 AM UTC
Here’s what is, what once was, and what will be.
I am what ‘held up’.
I am autumn tree after the fall of its last leaf,
I am volcanic ash dusted over the ruins of a city.
It may not look it, but I will once again breathe evident life,
For the best part of me is still here, I did not die.
I am the parts of me that survived tragedy,
Murdered the imposters,
Cut out the tumor.
Let me bleed.
Reasoning stretched to boundary,
And as gaping tears rip into being, you see me.
War-torn as ever,
I do not eat, I do not sleep.
Oh! But how I dream!
Dreaming of all the dreams indebted to me by Reality.
But in the blinding light of a child run free,
I didn’t realize my speed.
All the best parts of me,
Born of the fight to conquer what got thrown at me,
Now lie in the suffocating dirt of this cemetery.
Try as I might to resist what is, my washed eyes burn thinking of what once was,
For I know –this is all that will ever be.
The light I had,
Choked out,
Extinguished by the grave.
I always thought I’d live to dream another day.
What a fool I was,
“The best part of me is still here, thus I cannot die.”
Now I recall the years I neglected food and I neglected sleep.
Though I kick and cry, as I am dragged into this permanent sleep,
I know, this is repayment for a life deprived.
Now I know,
If you do not sleep, you cannot dream.
Here lies “the best part of me”,
Asleep in this coffin, it too did die.
Aug 16, 2012
Aug 16, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
In its current form,
Your existence is due to
Someone's sacrifice.
Individualism is
A privilege, not your right.
Society’s a ladder.
Somebody must climb first, for
Others to follow.
Repayment should be
Forward so the ladder can
Someday reach the sky.
Jul 31, 2017
Jul 31, 2017 at 3:49 PM UTC
Blood marks stained upon the innocent's carpet
A loveless repayment for a loving intention
Black ash and rubble across the apartment
Because of a soldier's salute for an ego's attention
Red clothes cling to the bleeding body's frame
And the unthawing cruelty leaves it stranded in pain
The body's wrapped and taken to waste
For there are thousands more like it
They just copy and paste
As they have nothing to gain
And that drives them insane
Loveless repayments from loving intentions
Because soldiers salute for the egos' attention
And they have so much to gain
Before they're driven insane
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 3:47 PM UTC
oops
Nat Lipstadt Feb 2015
(Ketoma Rose) I hate owing money & poems
~for Ketoma Rose~
money, far far easier for me
to gift, give, loan it out,
with very generous terms
of no repayment due
indeed, with my luck down,
the less I have,
the easier it is to share...
perfectly sensible to me
living with giving hands
and a
giving mouth
know that I know
that there are
a handful of you,
who read me with affection,
loyalty and a kind tenderness,
I cannot ever repay
so it makes me guilty+crazy,
keeps me up at night,
these obligations that cannot be
repaid without the hard work of
patient poem-waiting for inspiration
that comes so easily
only when it's ready
and this day I am ready
to pay down, pay toward,
please forward, give what
you have taken from me,
the pleasure of stating,
an adoration of thanksgiving,
a joining so profound,
that once found,
cannot be lost
and you dear reader,
can't fully share, or see these
gratitude-tears-I-am-currently-shedding
but voyeuring come along with the
knowing insight that I would want you too...
so you write from where your heart's
rip tides
rip you open and wider,
yet so oft it falls into the tears in
the pockets of only holes and neglect,
and you, ego-weak human
cannot understand
just how that can be...
but there you are,
Ketoma Rose,
by any and all your names,
liking my words,
and I crease wetness
upon my face tracks
wondering who you are,
and more over
the why
of who you are,
this wondering,
an agonizing
guilty pleasure,
a trouble I just
love having...
but bills must be paid,
and now this debt,
finally tiny-tad dented,
and the fact that the interest
upon it,
grows exponentially
is the
best debt
I ever was given
Aug 9, 2017
Aug 9, 2017 at 8:41 AM UTC
I missed a repayment of love
so she evicted my heart.
Leaving my feelings on the curb,
mourning its passing now were apart.
May 30, 2016
May 30, 2016 at 3:05 AM UTC
constantly struggling with fears of failure
I face the truth of why I cannot succeed
I do not own my life
I do not own what is
in my possession
I do not possess the
acts that I commit
I do not commit to
the life I have been
given
there is no reason for me to succeed
the spoils of victory are never mine
I do not know achievement
I do not know repayment
I do not know enjoyment
I do not know myself
so many decisions I didn’t make
in this life that’s suppose to be mine
I am without commitment
I am without ownership
this life called “my life”
is not mine, it never was.
I want a chance
I want an opportunity
I want a reason
to give a ****
about myself
let me start over
all on my own
I will be successful
I will be great
let me do this one thing
let me jump out the door
into the cold world and
prove that I’ll be fine
let me start it all over
so that if I ***** up
I know it’s all on me
but if I succeed, there’s
not anyone to take it
from me
Jan 12, 2011
Jan 12, 2011 at 5:09 PM UTC
A hermit I did find
A hermit with a hermit’s plan
Of hermit notions and hermit mind
I will recall for you what I can
Your attention is repayment in-kind
Let me introduce, this hermit hearted man
This jester void of rhythm and rhyme
This hallowed-out hermit friend
Bespoke like a rigid and reclusive mime
Who knew not how to pretend
That he did not fear the time
To him allotted, with only himself to tend
A peculiar host was he
And what I found peculiar most
Was his strange anxiety
That he wore like a scar, almost
A scathing scar, I could see
The sort you burry, not boast
It wasn’t a visible scar
On this hermit’s healthy cheek
That one could see from near or afar
But it wounded and rendered him weak
A scar on his soul, untended, ajar
That left this hermit too strained to speak
Jul 9, 2013
Jul 9, 2013 at 2:33 AM UTC
an exercise in trust:
her white nisan maxima speeds down the roadway.
speeding away from my sixty-dollar loan?
speeding away from my repayment?
i say:
check your pockets!
check your purse!
check your wallet!
check between the seats!
there it is.
why am I here anyway?
choose one of the following: (desperation/generosity)
__________
the maxima now wanders aimlessly
through unknown city streets
far from home
on the laziness of pet merchants:
an exercise in trust.
__________
a fib is told, biding for time
two
three
a hundred fibs for the hundred unwary,
an exercise in fate.
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 12:18 AM UTC
someday she'll teach herself
how to get past
all this
*********
sentimentalism
she inherited from her
mother
until then its
want
want
want
& can't have
when you go for so long
giving
& never getting back
only to find that
recently
the receiver has
some kind of heart
for repayment
but you don't know
where it lies
& you'll never ask for
the dreadful, dreadful
fear of the
consequence
well, then you start to go
a little bit
crazy
& the things that no one
should ever know
start to shimmy
out of the
carefully manufactured
woodwork
we call self-preservation
its a lonely
lonely
lonely night
in the prairie
Feb 4, 2012
Feb 4, 2012 at 12:33 AM UTC
You begged me to make you whole but you left me empty.
Mar 20, 2018
Mar 20, 2018 at 11:33 PM UTC
If I was asked to paint my life on a canvas, your silhouette would be the first thing I would brush on.
Following would be the deep and courageous shade of brown I voyage through when I look into your eyes.
And it's almost as if I would have to stencil in the word "perfect" where your smile is placed instead of steadying my hand enough.
Although I could never sway my fingers beautifully enough to visualize how I see you, I'd hope you'd still Love it.
If someone were to question what my life story is about, I could only respond by saying "finding her".
You are the space in between all my letters.
The chapters that I can't nearly prolong enough.
Every period, comma, colon, exclamation point and question mark.
Repayment won't ever be sought out enough.
Merely because I don't have enough seconds in a day to give you recognition for the aspiration you gift to me.
You've given me the freshest breath of air and the cleanest drink of water.
For that, I give you my all and hope it's enough.
So I send you thanks, for giving me a plot.
And I thank you for providing me with the most wondrous story line.
I dedicate this piece of art to you, my dear.
Mar 15, 2014
Mar 15, 2014 at 11:27 AM UTC