"requisition" poems
Lovesick and you've got the cure.
Got all these symptoms. You know what for.
Don't be afraid of this contagious disease,
Just take my requisition form.
I've made room for you in my atria and ventricle.
You're the capillary to my arteriole and venule.
You're the amniotic fluid to the child in my heart.
I find you even in the interstitial parts.
Treatment like uours is like a centrifugAl force.
So be the **** stasis my heart is longing for.
Some homeostasis is what we need.
We will make compromises to succeed.
Lay me supine and you in prone.
Sensory neurons fire
Exocrine glands make to pressure
Spark endocrine glands to hear you moan.
Without your heart I'd be anemic.
Withiutbyour arms I'd be half a paraplegic.
Your kisses give me air, without them I'm cyatonic.
You're the fibrin in my veins, to my pain an anesthetic.
I'm ready for some long-term care and affection.
Got a chronic condition that needs your attention.
I k now I'm concluded, parts of me sclerosed.
Don't wait post mortem to know that you're the most.
Aug 1, 2014
Aug 1, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
Imagine that
I could write a salve,
compose an ointment of verbal herbs to heal,
even mere protect the already-torn-so-easy mental flesh,
just to disguise/hide the multi-colored bruising our
fickle mistress-in-common provides when you are down so far
another bruise joining the cast like a floodplain subsuming one more feeding creek bed into the shapelessness of indistinguishability
imagine that
where atoms hide eternal between creation and destruction,
borrow brief the set exact you require to restore the taken years
from fathers/mothers/brothers/sisters,
children,
return that which went unused by the uninvited, unseemly human whim of war and lies for no gain
imagine that
the deep sinkhole of despair that ***** one in, years in the formation, appearing in instance, and worse does not drowns but leaves helpless, unable to climb out, and all our scratching digs us in deeper until we cannot be, seen or heard or just be
imagine that
a check comes in the mail, payable left open for filling-in,
in the amount of full restoration, with no additional fees of guilt needed for deposit and cashing/caching out: and you wake up
and the stony chest is breathing lungs free
imagine that
and I do; for I am the smoke of return and rest, sky inscribing,
knowing precise needs and the screams and the years unfair taken,
they are screened through the five perceptions, and the word weaver
sets the loom for each peculiar requisition, no imagination needed
imagine that
you lament and anger demand verifiable proofs mathematical,
cursing the knights of false hopes with untethered regret
I do not imagine that; hear it and accept; my task, imagine that, making you imagine that, thus commencement of repair begins
when
we imagine that
for this how new healthy cells are born
quiet-now, go, imagine-that, now*
Aug 18, 2018
Aug 18, 2018 at 1:02 PM UTC
~a question of a thousand dreams~^
“Where are you going now my love? Where will you be tomorrow? Will you bring me happiness? Will you bring me sorrow? All the questions of a thousand dreams, what you do and what you see”
this one composes itself
for all dreams go unremembered
the first, the thousandth, the every in between,
erased by the push button of opening eyes
but dreams come, marching in, saints mining the raw materiel
the quartermaster has stored, awaiting requisition by an
unarmed unnamed corp, witnessed but never seen
these dreams wisped soft willow budded, tempting taunting,
leaving nothing but unanswered questions that colored come
in black and white
elementary clues,
a pillow indentation,
single hair that stretches
across the sea between two pillows that is blonde or red
but
certainly unmine,
dregs of soured sentiment linger like the
aftertaste of too many coffees and stainless steel beers
heated summers breezes give no succor or relief,
and the rain following gives no pleasure,
for now you are hot and soaked,
but somewhere in there a dream is part replayed,
and eyes widening in major league surprise,
the question acknowledged, the dreams quest hinted
she has gone, neither happiness or sorrow will she
provide on the morrow, no toweling of your wet hair fair,
and you awake sweat besotted, it is not rain, just pain,
and it is only one dream a thousand times repeated
and what you do and what you see
is the abraded night ahead, and
you bitter laugh, for there is no more other than to think,
the question answered, and you beg relief by
uttering
“perchance to dream”
3:49 pm
see the notes!!
someone accuses me of Plagiarism
because I did not acknowledge that the quote in marks and Italics was from a famous song written 39 years ago
so here is my response to
“just saying”
congratulations on ******* me off
and yes I agree, you do not know the rules
“#1: Quotation Marks Are for Quoting People—Verbatim
Perhaps it should go without saying, but quotation marks are for quoting people. Quoting doesn’t mean summarizing or paraphrasing; it means repeating exactly what someone said. If you put double quotes around a phrase, your reader will often assume that someone, somewhere, said that exact phrase or sentence.“
http://thevisualcommunicationguy.com/2013/09/11/10-things-you-really-need-to-know-about-quotation-marks/
Aug 3, 2018
Aug 3, 2018 at 3:59 PM UTC
1602
Pursuing you in your transitions,
In other Motes—
Of other Myths
Your requisition be.
The Prism never held the Hues,
It only heard them play—
5.8k
You
Literati
I want you to know
I’m writing to you drunk
With a sober mind that thinks in its own
One that is independent
One that is great and strong-willed
To know
You are not pursuing a life of greatness
Merely of pettiness
Of worthless endeavors that requisition an
Agenda of procreation
Of Darwinism
****
I may be drunk or beneath the tyranny of the ALMIHGTY BEZOS
But I am consistent in my beliefs
And all destroyers of
Existence
And freedom are
Bound for
Destruction.
SO KEEP FIGHTING BECAUSE
i AM A BEING BORN OF REBELLION
AND SO ARE you.
Jun 12, 2014
Jun 12, 2014 at 5:56 AM UTC
**O, My Creator, Deliver Me From These Inquisitions,
Emancipate Me From These Wretched Oppositions,
Free Me From The Chains Of My Weary Disposition,
Envelop Me Within The Folds Of Your Holy Apparition**
*The Sun's Light Dwindled Along The Horizon,
Darkness Bruised The Ledges Of The Sky,
Summer's Vegetation Recoiled And Fossilized,
Within The Dark Soil's Crumbling Underlie*
**O, Glorious Divine Being, Act On My Requisition,
Extricate My Soul From It's Appalling Malnutrition,
This Tattered Mind Is A Degenerating Composition,
Let My Spine Sprout Wings To Carry Me To Redefinition**
*Stars Emerged From The Depths Of The Heavens,
Holes Filtrating The Stale Air Circulating In Slime,
Oozing From A Fatal Virus They Referred To As Time*
Feb 18, 2015
Feb 18, 2015 at 7:08 PM UTC
“*I am the smoke of return and rest,
sky inscribing,
knowing your precise needs and the
screams and the years unfair taken,
screened through five perceptions
I am the word weaver
setting the loom for each peculiar requisition,
a havened place of restoration
as best I can,
for this weaving my eye’s recollections
perfect,
no imagination needed*”
imagine that
Sep 29, 2018
Sep 29, 2018 at 1:21 PM UTC
with bodies relaxed,
but eyes observant,
they sell
five dollar bags of
***** weedy poetry
mixed clientele,
there is no age or gender or ****** preference
discrimination,
certainly none requiring critical taste,
in the buying and selling of
***** weedy poetry
commercial savants,
organized by topic,
available for purchase
love, depressing, rants and whines,
discounts for pre-owned
anti boyfriend rhymes
in his day, they say,
Whitman partook,
ferried up from his Brooklyn nook,
William Carlos Williams too,
from New Jersey came,
better to understand
the most common patois
they'll do custom stuff,
the suppliers,
mix and blend all
kinds of ****
their database exponential,
give them the
requisite hashtags,
and within it,
in it,
thirty minutes,
no more,
they'll requisition,
providing an acquisition -
you'll get your
name-your-own-hash,
Freedom
to entitle your own
***** weedy poetry
or you could grow you own
on the window sill
in the earth of your discarded
despair
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 10:24 AM UTC
Particle pieces
gathered, gleaned-
recovered.
Stitched and sewn.
Plush patches
mortared with Mercy.
Tears uniquely unexampled.
Yet my Redeemer’s requisition.
Girded and guarded
while broken and bandaged.
My benefactioned breath…
a cloak for the King.
Nov 7, 2011
Nov 7, 2011 at 8:42 PM UTC
In my bed staring at the ceiling,
Trying so desperately to get rid of this sickening feeling.
About tomorrow ...
Tossing and Turning,
Yearning...
For a peace of mind.
Time ticking yet I dare not to sleep,
Fearing what lies ahead of me,
May be a divine intervention my subconscious refuse to seek?
Deep down my heart grows weary.
In each rhythmic session,
Hours turns to minutes, minutes turns to countless seconds.
Wondering will I conquer the inevitableness of my requisition?
Inquisitive thoughts plagues my mind,
Consistently wrapping...
As I unravel today's present.
Today has been a blessing,
Too bad this gift must be thrown...
Insomnia began to attack viciously,
Through my flesh and into the bone,
I envision that if I close my eyes,
my fate will be revealed.
Tomorrow never dies,
But unfortunately I will along with today.
Jul 23, 2013
Jul 23, 2013 at 10:00 PM UTC
“Like Emerson I write above the mantle of my door ‘whim’”.
I’m a Wildean character in a tragedian’s play.
The tired hedonist in pursuit of beauty.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 12:25 AM UTC
i give you my permission
to give into this transmission
ease your laughter im not kiddin
slip into a deep remission
my commanding requisition
blend into your mental waves
relax with every word i say
an breathe cool steel
don't close your eyes just stay awake
im deeper a6nd deeper inside the mind
eight6y percent you
twenty percen6t fluid
connectin juices reproduces
haters clueless
mass confusion
listehn to. the. sound of.
voices who aren't homaies
telilin you
you are so homelly
princess joy and clevers spider
shiney clowns and apaple cider
crafty witchtes at my parties
bloated tube skates mister sarry
give me your one-foldnn
42-faceted joker
blanket faces and strip poker
Pony G you are so crafty.
Apr 12, 2017
Apr 12, 2017 at 5:14 PM UTC
As the wind tangled in the curls of Aphrodite's hair
Entwined as though, being apart means to speak blasphemy
As the waves rushing to kiss the shore
Urgent desires being locked up for too long.
As the breath of air, potent and needed
A gasp of life flowing into the veins.
As sinful as the first bite of the forbidden fruit
Seeking only enlightenment and truth.
That's how much I hate to see you go
That's how much I need you.
Stay.
Sep 23, 2014
Sep 23, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
Well, here you have me again.
In repentance again; a requisition for mercy at your feet.
I have not seen you in so long, and it is because I have not looked.
I have not taken the time to enjoy my father's company.
Why is this? I will tell myself to read, to write, to think, to record,
and do not do it.
Shouldn't this be forth-coming in a natural overflow in my gratitude of your blessing and glory?
I treat you like a blimp, like a ladder.
I worry about my image, and how I will present myself.
I worry, but I do not address anyhow, and it is vanity.
Lord you are my portion, and you are my prize.
I am not perusing you out of lack of anything else to do.
I am sprinting after your coat-tails for the sheer goodness of your substance and presence O God.
This is my confession Lord. I have not loved you.
Help me to remember my first love.
Let me drink in the milk I first tasted.
Bring me back to the beginning again, that I may remember your deliverance for me from the hand of darkness.
Mar 24, 2015
Mar 24, 2015 at 11:32 PM UTC
Amidst the politicians,
decisions on propositions
positioned to requisition
this very nation's fate,
only leads to derelictions,
and weaknesses in convictions,
unending belligerences,
and finally, blind hate.
Banditos jumping fences,
to make it to better living...
this freedom is an incentive,
not a gift, so why wait?
People dying overseas,
Pollution and disease,
Brings the planet to its knees
And steak to your dinner plate
They think it's great!
they use the greed to cultivate the hate.
They squeeze upon the clamps
designed to encapsulate our fates
and in their avarice they find
the keys of heaven dissipate
between their fingers like the time
it took to make a bank so great,
but still they take, and they don't mind,
when you die sooner, now, or late,
cause they charge you for the diapers,
dinners, tax all that you've made,
Then they charge you for the service,
while they're waited on by maids,
but, yeah, okay, make your choice,
Between the men who make you slaves
And cast your vote, between two evils
Of slightly different shades.
Oct 7, 2021
Oct 7, 2021 at 5:15 AM UTC
my style has changed me
not the other way around
there are subtle differences
in myself that only I can know
this is traced back to the simple
requisition of living
and that is repetition
Jan 24, 2014
Jan 24, 2014 at 12:37 PM UTC
What happened to the days
I found poetry in a thread on a dress?
What happened to the days
I found poetry in a strand on a head?
The days I had the most extravagant words
To use as my armour and weapons?
The days I had a beautiful, flowing rhyme
To use as the glamour and .......?
Have I lost my train of thought?
Or have I stopped looking for it?
Have I finally succumbed to the cost
Which states to find poetry in every twist?
Every twist of every braid,
Every list of every maid.
Every hill growing up,
Every second of broken trust.
I must go on a conquest to retrieve my possession
Of thirst for finding poetry in even the slightest dust on a table top.
To live my life again, I have made this decision;
And for you to adhere to it is my humble requisition.
Dec 26, 2014
Dec 26, 2014 at 11:57 AM UTC
Within this darkened room, the light shines bright.
An empty view crosses my sight shattered.
In these shadows, my eyes pierce this dyed night.
The fizz and dots remain ever scattered.
With clear lack of order, static shifted.
My pupils focused as the screen advanced.
The thoughts that lingered quickly cease, lifted.
Crystal vision synchronized, mind enhanced.
And as the static vibrates with white noise,
my mind transforms inward through solitude.
Requisition of the dark now employed,
the whispers of the moon almost sound shrewd.
They tell me that belief is what's erased.
The template of our connection—displaced.
May 28, 2014
May 28, 2014 at 2:55 AM UTC
But love how will I ever get to forget,
your endless laughter echoing through the room
little notes of poetry you write when I'm blue.
Love, how do you expect me to move on
from someone who made me feel euphoria
someone who showed me
what it means to really be alive.
Love, how can I ever look for someone new
when it was always you, all I wanted was for you
to stay true and maybe we could get through
all the times we felt quite blue,
you were just being crude but even so I love you.
Love, can you not hear me?
I love you! from every single imperfection you have
that still somehow make you the epitome of what is perfect
I beg of you! To listen, just listen to me.
Stay, please stay, because without you
I wouldn't know what to do, or where to go to.
I am lost without you.
Love please stay, come back into my arms
and maybe we can just make love
even if it's a bit cliche
it wouldn't take too much if you would stay.
Stay and kiss my tears away.
Stay with me and forget yesterday
would that be okay?
Oct 7, 2018
Oct 7, 2018 at 5:30 AM UTC