"respectability" poems
She stood, amidst tutts, wore a mini skirt...
(From the first decade). Took a
Step forward, pioneering the teenager
Long fair hair, parted mid section
Cascading over her cherry cupcakes
Remembering first impressions aren't always
Accurate, they still berated her without
Knowing her. First appearances were all
They knew and could rely on...back then
Why would she wear a skirt so short if
Respectability meant anything, closed off
They too had been judged, time dulling
Their posture straight backed. Space lacked
Room to be filled with meanderings of another
Era, balancing her book atop red curls and
Speckled egg skin. Recalling the longing
Admiration of someone who dared to wear
Their inner choice on the outside
Feb 19, 2013
Feb 19, 2013 at 12:25 PM UTC
No one listens
Friends seldom seen
'I'm all right'
Cancelled conversations
Happiness on demand
Courses in tautology
Reverent respectability
Chimes lost to time
Disconsolate coverlets
Scenes from lonely places
Litter on the streets
You're on your own.
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC
Respectability boredom
The basis of your
very happy marriage.
Added to it my painful
everlasting suffering.
My heart-ache,
and heart-break.
It all came to it's
inevitable end.
Everyone as everything
comes to a holt the"end."
I rolled your rushed up early dice back!
Rolled before I could understand the magic you were the deceitfulness the mind **** and hunting game
You now rip back
what greedy ones have planned for you
From that drunken ***** wild bird of paradise door you left ajared.
This universal law applies
as a balancing skale!
It just never fails
It's all an ever
pendulum Oscillation.
~~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
Copy Rights apply.
10-2020.
Oct 16, 2020
Oct 16, 2020 at 2:06 AM UTC
*why do people always pain themselves to write as if they could ever be understood, when so few read them, and even a fewer number care to understand? and why do so many ably bodied ******* themselves with writing? why have they lost the taste for fresh air and instead chose a wheelchair that writing is?*
in legal terms - are you implying a play on synonyms or
just simply stating: d'uh, i don't know what
that means? ah, a limitation on the vocabulary,
an atypical symptom of lawyers - when socrates attacked
eloquence per se, he also defeated himself
by ensuring law abided by the law of highest eloquence,
and the rabble got diddly-squat, his attack on rhetoricians
lost the prowess of attracting debased educators
with himself the most debased educator:
and instead attracted lawyers... thus the law of the eloquent,
rather than the rubric of the least eloquent...
lost an eye for an eye, lost a mouth with it too...
i rather be fed eloquence and education
and coarseness to equally educate
than be fed a justice fed by eloquence alone,
because if this is to be the equilibrating case,
then serving justice will just be a case of speaking
in a satin tongue of readied rhetoric
as justice so called,
and when speaking in a coarse tongue
no justice will be made applicable...
i rather be educated by someone in a coarse tongue
than be brought to justice by someone in an eloquent tongue,
i rather not be educated by someone in an eloquent tongue /
i rather be brought to justice by someone in a coarse tongue
(the mob),
at least the coarse tongue is well equipped to
address the many who require educating,
unlike the eloquent tongue equipped to
address itself and itself alone, rather than addressing
the jury who blindly pass judgement, because
the lawyer's tongue is not in the mouth of the defendant
but in the lawyer's mirror of social strata of respectability
appearing so guiding, kindly tying a bow-tie of applause.
Mar 11, 2016
Mar 11, 2016 at 10:50 PM UTC
Sara L Russell 29th August 2016
Time to retire now, ladies,
the drawing room awaits
as the gentlemen go to smoke
and drink brandy
or tell ribald stories
unsuitable for a lady's delicate ears.
Time to work on our embroidery
or retire to bed.
The men shall retire whenever they wish,
and the stars are too many for us to count.
Now we must lie abed
dreaming of Mr. Darcy
or perhaps a future career,
If only one's gender
might permit such a thing.
Time to adjourn now, ladies,
Mrs. Pankhurst has said her piece
and the rozzers are coming
to break up our meeting of like minds.
I heard that she was in prison for a time,
and went on hunger strike!
oh yes, my dear,
I heard they beat her,
force-fed her
then left her to cry alone in her cell.
Only she didn't cry. She never cries.
They say one day we women
will be able to vote!
Yes, of course it could happen.
We deserve it, after all.
Time to adjourn now, people,
it's been a long session
and even ministers need a lunch break.
Mrs. Thatcher no doubt will carry on
making notes for yet another meeting,
I don't think that woman ever sleeps.
Even if she never does,
she has razor-sharp concentration
and a sharper mind.
You don't want to get
on the wrong side of that one.
Funny, years ago,
they never dreamed we'd have
a woman Prime Minister.
Not everyone agrees with her
yet few dare to disagree.
Time to retire now, ladies.
The men have important things
to discuss, too serious for our lowly ears.
Theirs is the sun and the daylight;
ours are the shadows that herald the dusk.
Gather your prayer beads
and lower your gaze.
Do not look into the eyes
of the Imam as you pass by
on the way to your rooms.
Do not let any breeze from the window
displace your veil.
Guard your modesty
at all times;
protect your respectability,
for it is all you have in the world.
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 8:28 PM UTC
You cringeworthy, evil pismire;
Your father did surely miss-sire
This personification of flatulence,
The embodiment of self importance
Overflowing with abject peccancy
Devoid of any sign of respectability
Replete with gross odoriferousness
Horribly and infamously unscrupulous.
You have reveled in misrepresentation
And tried to elevate your calumniation
Disinformation and deception exists
As capitalistic dissembling persists.
You’ve collected an evil government
Built mostly of human excrement
And have such a lack of veracity
That you speak in constant mendacity.
Sycophantic eructations of dogmatic bile
Issue from your unsympathetic smile
And your inauthentic glad-handed gropes
As if we all of us are unbright gullible dopes
That buy your fabrications completely
While you pilfer and prevaricate indiscreetly.
You are a Vaudevillian villain miscast as star,
But most of us know exactly what you are.
Deceit, deception, dishonesty; a tragedy
But not for you, for us and our country.
Distortion, evasion and fabrication the rules;
You despair of any other kinds of tools.
Falsehoods, fictions and forgery are your tricks.
You demand we build with straw-less bricks
Your erections that are planned to be palaces
Filled with your giant golden carved phalluses.
Those monuments, inanotomically correct,
Established to celebrate and somehow protect
A mountebank on the way to an overseas bank
Claiming to eradicate the scoria he creates
That decades of privation will not quite alleviate.
But you, the Great Prevaricator, will always blame
Other players in your sick, unconstitutional game
Instead of admitting your complicity and guilt
About the disgusting, putrid swamp you built.
Jun 13, 2018
Jun 13, 2018 at 2:32 PM UTC
Philanthropic gesticulations are an evident dismissal of Anglican legends.
In this Northern hemisphere, we are unified on the verge of an axial tilt, whilst equestrian ladies in jodhpurs of champagne delicacy seek profanities beyond the confines of social respectability.
Let us sit under the wise branches of the oak tree in nocturnal dimensions of Newtonian questionability, and broaden our horizons as we contemplate our ancestors.
Listen to the bubbling brook as she whispers timeless stories of enchantment.
Oh, bearer of liberated pain, I resent fox-hunting.
The rooster always crows at dawn.
Jun 19, 2014
Jun 19, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
walking naked thru central park at dawn
exhilarating!
the policeman he come up and says
"why are you walking naked thru central park?"
i thought for a moment
and replied
".....to get to the other side?....."
he looked me up and down and said
"but you don't look like no chicken!"
---------------
---------------
the ever afraid girl
the constant thought of pain she is
we went walking naked thru central park
she stopped thinking about her pain for awhile
------------------
------------------
i walked naked into the UNITED NATIONS building
and said
"i am here to address the world"
the head dude looked at me and sighed
"oh,no
another freak for PEACE!"
------------
------------
stripped of AURA
stripped of GUILE
please!
take away all thoughts
of corrupt respectability!
walking naked thru central park
naked thru the wind and rain
walking naked
(naked and free)
becoming
the wind and the rain
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 1:26 PM UTC
we are the conventional lovers
the respectable ones
we are tight-lipped and we never
argue or disagree in public
and even in private we will not raise our voices
lest unseen people might hear us;
we are the respectable lovers
who bring up children
to never reveal their feelings
and to arm themselves with degrees and sobriety
and wide connections and prestige ambitions
and whose grades are the best in the nation;
and our conversations
are of what school our children attend
and what marks they attain
and our lives to drive them around
for achievement lessons;
ah, this is why we love
this why we marry
for the sake of our duty to society,
respectability
our religion, the nation and for the posterior,
Oh, I mean - for posterity
Sep 30, 2010
Sep 30, 2010 at 4:12 AM UTC
Those vices I dropped like rhinestones
on the starry path to respectability
become diamonds when he whispers "tonight"
when he reaches out to my child weary flesh
-unwillingly- I will respond but.
I cannot shrug off the dishes and bills
the stain on the floor where the cat bled
the un-watered plants;
how many times have I written these lines?
Ah God…even my most poignant moments
have become mundane -
like the Taj Mahal must appear
to the beggar on the steps
selling downloaded pictures
in the shadow of holiness.
Jan 1, 2015
Jan 1, 2015 at 4:37 AM UTC
WARNING: Horror...you might find this series offensive or distressing if you are not used to horror.
3)
I know
once I was just like you
I was young and furious too
the world was too much
everyone made you feel
so hopeless, you think you could ****
I know exactly
how you feel
*Dear, oh dear
don't cry
Darling, oh darl
don't bleed*
There was a time when I married
(everyone finds it's a mistake;
they either **** their partner
or, to continue living,
they **** their own spirit)
but I was determined to grow
my body and spirit -
can we not get conventional? -
so I had minced pie for a time
and no one could bring
my wife back home
you see
wifey got
too comfy
and see she had this thing
(after respectability)
about responsibility
the role of husband and father and
parent and homeowner, mow the lawn
service the loan
and all that crap –
I quite believe she was going mad;
maybe she walked away into the woods
Was that responsible of her?
*Dear, oh dear
don't cry
Darling, oh darl
don't bleed*
Oct 28, 2014
Oct 28, 2014 at 5:27 PM UTC
*looks like someone's dancing in their underwear...
touché - looks like someone's buying pints
of milk in their pyjamas.*
night privy, nocturnal India
i get to do the dance over your grave
while your relatives grieve a pointless
grief: just in the same way they grieved
a rotten chestnut, or egg....
maybe this sprout of anti-imagination
might be a floating limb of ambition
to being simply reattached - *the black keys'
lonely boy* -
spastic maestro number uno - chillies
and the Chilcot KKK inquiry -
got buff results with the whitey crew -
took out the trash, fed the gerbils,
saved a Latex ****** from the hood...
well... the Kentucky hooded brigade,
fully tent equipped parishioners -
and whenever you dress up as sheep
you better barbecue - c k q - what a long shopping list -
**i've got a love that keeps me waiting!
ooh oh oh oh!
i've got a love that keeps me waiting;
i'm a lonely boy"* -
to cue or to queue -
a forever question unanswered -
of simply quit... they call it the lack of
solar tattoo pigmentation -
i treat the argument for god
like i'd treat winning the jackpot in lottery,
it just has the prefix existential- prior to what's
being gambled: someone suggested respectability;
i guess that's fair enough - otherwise
i call it a fail with potatoes acting as bricks
in Northern Ireland... and a blatant lack
of back-up colonialism....
that ****** better sprech Anglo
or he's toast.... then came the Voodoo Vindaloo -
screaming: churn out the chillies into chokes! aah!
oh oh or excessive umlaut agitation -
poor tool tummy - when have you experienced
the ****** in surgical syllables taken
to the butchers for coarse timing
that never coerced?
i danced that dance, angry though,
when they played Pendulum's Tarantula
in a Basildon's night-club - you heard a roar
when spotted an "epileptic"
(both dittoing as said, and ambiguity) weaving a web of
personal space - truly and originally,
not your cup of tea - i'd ensure you as
respectably assured -
mind the Sundays and the roast beef and
the home office and Yorkshire fundamentalism;
Newcastle? Newcastle is too hedonistic.
Sep 8, 2016
Sep 8, 2016 at 8:58 PM UTC
The vagueness of the picture at hand hangs in the balance
So elusive in all its logical respectability
You find you are falling over the meaning of all that is there
Because you cannot see the forest for the trees
An intrusion, such injustice, flows into the scheme of things
Delivering a crushing blow to all that you can see
So now how clear is this picture, hanging in the balance
As you stand without a shred of your dignity
A shade of gray has entered the picture with neutrality
Your sense of logic no longer holds the key
What was once so vague and elusive is now clear as a bell
As all of the forest you begin to see
Put aside for just one moment all the logic that you hold
Dare to see a dream of impossibilities
You may find the picture is not as vague as you think
When you open up your eyes and truly see
Jun 15, 2010
Jun 15, 2010 at 8:58 AM UTC
if i didn't teach you anything
i'll teach you this:
akin to all poetic techniques
summarised by words such
as pun and metaphor,
vulgarity is a technique in
poetry that allows for fluidity to take place,
and that's the only relevant point
to make to answer the asian haiku
with an eurpean ensō;
after all, us europeans dig furthest
into a poetic narrative, we hardly
bother to keep it short:
vulgarity like all other poetic technique,
the use of vulgarity is to represent
fluidity... a one quick gesture from
beginning to end... and your life in between,
added: if i wasn't being ******
in my composition, you'd keep me locked-up
in an ivory tower of respectability,
and i couldn't sideline you on the paved
plateau of everyday ***** speech
when buying a pair of socks.
Feb 4, 2016
Feb 4, 2016 at 4:18 AM UTC
A questionable son
the one
who chose auto repair
and serial monogamy
finds the golden road
to Washington, D.C. respectability
What does his father do?
He buys him a briefcase
And everything followed
and flowed
from that mineral moment
A career
a wife, in time
a briefcase never used
but full of good wishes
murmurs
and marching orders
The road ahead
seemed wide open
stretching west
into a golden glow
and open it was
purged of hindrance
by the workings of time
So here am I
that golden road
now behind me
Life seems a sand castle
on a castle of sand
with the tide pouring in
It is that last ember
glowing as the fire
goes dark
Tomorrow and tomorrow
beckon from a fabled future
they bid me adieu
I can smell the scent
of decay in this
warm summer's wind
kiss the sweetness of it
on my lips
I do not part willingly
hold out my hand
for every shred of
summer's light
But at the end of it
pack my poor bag
and make a crow's march
home
where I belong
Jul 23, 2017
Jul 23, 2017 at 7:13 PM UTC
To the inner wisdom
To that outgrowing system
To the pillars of belief
And to the childish relief.
To the chastity, modesty & respectability,
To not loose virginity over someone’s purity
To **** the innocence of mine,
And to retain from thine.
Lately I’m seeing a glass of wine,
Pouring emptiness in the mid sunshine.
To forgive you from the first meeting,
To forgave me from reciting pure words melting.
To known from strangers again
If this is that, then I don’t want to wait in vain.
To the dimensions I think insane,
To the remembrance of high schools mane.
Through highs & lows
I’ll be at bow !
My submission to the
Actual vow.
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 2:34 PM UTC
I met a ****** today,
and no, she didn’t actually tell me.
She kept this tight and was
really shy and polite about it.
But I guessed, because, well,
she's passionate, and trembling on the brink,
like a strung bow, quivering to release,
and she's straining to please her father,
who has the highest standards,
and the rest of her family, who have the highest standards,
and she has the highest standards,
and she's trying to live up to these highest standards,
and her Khmer culture is conservative,
also with these highest moral standards.
Gee. There are so many high standards here,
except for politics and the ****** of protestors
in this country. They're a high standard of
retribution and execution, in the back of the head.
Yeah, culture can be cruel sometimes,
especially in Cambodia.
Anyway, this girl’s trying to keep it together
and, well, there’s so much I could teach her.
But, look. I’m not the one to give her advice,
or to point my finger, or anything else, here.
It’s called the journey of life.
She has to figure it out and fit in for herself, see?
But wow. She's really beautiful in this innocent way.
So maybe you'll forgive me, briefly,
when I think of toxophily, improperly,
not to mention other recreational activity.
But honestly, I like and respect her,
and I appreciate her integrity.
Although I wish that everyone
would just wish her to be happy
instead of all of this responsibility and respectability
stuff about morality and virginity.
And for those who try to keep her in purgatory,
well, I wonder about their own purity. Yeah.
Just a few thoughts on equality
or maybe jealousy or hypocrisy here.
But hey! She's twenty-two! It's her time to be free.
She can still have *** and be pure.
It's called love, see? Not necessarily matrimony.
And anyway, virginity's not for a committee,
this is her own destiny.
Love is the answer.
It's really simple. See?
Mike T Minehan
Jul 26, 2016
Jul 26, 2016 at 10:05 PM UTC
grand those fortunes
which still pour,
grains of purest sugar
from sores in sacks where it's kept
they never bother the floors -
hillocks at times swept
for country club dues,
or spent on jaguars
the youngsters will drive -
it refills from endless supply,
now out of ransomed dreams
a rabble may dare,
repaid in their knees
and knuckles worn bare
bleeding tremolite lungs of old men
lending respectability to old names,
ensuring children's safe distance
from wizened brown limbs
of people forefathers traded,
broken black bodies hidden
in mounds of white wealth,
heathen souls saved at the altar,
naked but for irons they wore
lives mortgaged for
their good Christian deaths
all for sweetness
of more.
Nov 6, 2010
Nov 6, 2010 at 6:29 PM UTC
It’s happening again,
initials on the fingertips,
names of ghosts on the tip of tongues,
the linch pin swan-song.
A mysterious blue,
frosty peaks,
melt to reveal a supernatural guise,
small time news,
spreads like wildfire
through the forest of honesty,
respectability nowadays,
is a foreign policy.
Underneath the layers,
and the lawyers suits.
Hide shadows in the caverns,
a melodramatic pattern,
good men and bad men,
shatter in a symbolic surrealist twist.
Blink and miss it,
the patter of the birds sing,
a quirky beginning and a murky ending.
Who knows what the day brings.
Who knows what the day brings.
Oct 30, 2015
Oct 30, 2015 at 7:10 AM UTC
Excuse me
if I'm in no mood for
respectability politics.
We should not have to be
shiny happy people
holding hands
for you to
value my humanity.
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 5:40 PM UTC
when the politicians open up their traps
we're fed a diet of political crap
they think they are out smarting us
with the unpalatable stuff they feed us
we're wise to the diatribe which is shoved down our necks each day
we wont be fooled by anything they say
our Prime Minister stood up in parliament
to tell the members to be of a kinder bent
but in the next breath
he got out his nasty tasting mace
to give the opposition leader
a bit of its in the face
well that doesn't sit too well with the public at all
as they don't much like seeing an all in brawl
the politicians should be less rough
as their verbal insults can be too tough
they should be practicing what they preach
instead of going well beyond the breach
how can we respect anything they utter
when all they say is best kept in the gutter
our politicians are far from a good crew
all to often their distasteful jibes make us stew
they are losing all respectability
which does little for their publicity
their bluntness in the bear pit
we'll not have a bar of it
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 6:57 AM UTC
Why can’t we swear in academia?
Why can’t we swear in acedmia?
Tell me, WHY THE **** can’t we swear in academia,
why the EVER LOVING **** , can’t we swear in academia?
Say **** how we’d actually say **** Why the **** we gotta contort into this PISS-ASS RESPONSIBLE, PROPER, PROFESSIONAL, BUSINESS-CASUAL, ******* ASS-WIPING ******** LANGUAGE that no one can ******* relate to or get their head around? Academia GET YOUR RESPECTABILITY POLITICS OFF MY **** OUT OF MY FACE AND OFF MY **** and let me say ***** ****** UP!” when **** sure as **** IS ****** UP! Actually no, academia, **** OUTTA HERE WITH YOUR TONE POLICING CLUSTERFUCK, I’m not waiting for permission. I’m gunna start right the **** now. And don’t you dare tell me to shut up, **** **** **** SHITTY-FUCK, YOU BIG-BOYZ CLUB OF WHITE ***** ******** **** yourself.
Oct 1, 2017
Oct 1, 2017 at 8:45 PM UTC
respectability argument: to be honest, being british, i think you're being asked to be required in kenya.... unless french, and much needed in the ivory coast; unless of course bound to south america and resurrecting aztecs; but that's you, snogging Pocahontas: and there's me still thinking about L'vov in Ukraine and Vilnius in Lithuania, like some Greek torching Athens in order to reclaim the stature of being enclosed by the Koranic identification of being once named Byzantine.
i make children in my sleep. parisian monkey dogue;
i'll sell my mother for a chance to salute!
seigel... heil! is that drowned
or drunk monkeys? is that the fluffy ********
or the furry moustache?
vexen ßeß -
i'm getting the itch....
the children rebel,
they read:
azure eyed
and the keeper: those americans
aren't selling the idea of democracy,
they're selling patriotism...
we can't find patriotism
after vietnam...
i told you i sold the children
the idea...
they're hanging with me in the night...
they're engaging everyone with
drunk's antics... and 9 depths of Dante...
when no-one aims to be
intelligent, rather drunk...
high-streets of Aleppo...
only when children take to invoking
a priestly Saturday...
caste-made worth's of a ********
i charge to culprit the salutation...
for whatever coaxing
i too mind the hoax -
veneered in vex -
broadly gathered with a klux.
x x x... x x x... wind-farms of Bavaria.
tragedy in Dortmund, and navigating
the E34... i think they call it the Bermuda
spaghetti tangle...
schloss... Mathias Pfred...
y'ah, dirt-ridden with the Rhine...
neun counter eins...
luft, feuer, wasser, erde;
zahnseide nach naiv chittern, denken bürste;
ich nehmen die kontinent für schweinkratzen:
kichernd beifall - cacao Brad Pitt... suede
in foxtrot a vexing the ***** of mustard with
merging ginger and brownshirt; skunk
marching the heb toward allegiance texan,
for that pretty period of living in the 1960s
and the early 21st century...
and god said: either a german or a pole
will be my puppet joker, or i'll have
a resurrection of israel! **** why not, i'll
have both.
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 8:12 PM UTC
christianity is, in part,
ontologically based, to behave like
hinduism...
in that its root is a polytheism,
focusing on
the opposite of a theology,
or its particularness...
it's poly-schismatic.
catholicism can lie all it wants away,
but the fact is simple:
christianity was based upon a focus
of an impeding schism...
so i can't see a way out of
shouting: shotgun!
as you rarely do, take the seat
in a non-black-cabbie next to the driver...
since there isn't one...
add to it an innumerable
cohort of saints... and you're done...
at least islam is "schizophrenic",
in that the schism took to representing
two factions of belief systems...
me? if i were muslim?
shi'a(h) islam... all the way...
christianity just has a messiah complex
imbedded in it... and therefore it has
so many splinters (schisms) waiting for it,
to be reduced to.
orthodox, catholic, protestant,
and then all the -isms...
luthernism, calvinism, baptism -ism- -ists...
em, second day adventists?
it's like darwinism in a theological sense:
look! look at all the theo-diversity!
only now, would you associate
the (g)nostic movement in islam (sufism)
with shi'a(h) islam...
but come on! how can you make poetry
a capitalist "thing"?
you can't compete when writing poetry...
you can't compete on an universal basis for
a uniform stance of "incompetent" expression...
that **** ain't happening...
i feel with my intensity, and with my intensity alone...
you can't compete with what you feel,
and then scribble down...
the **** is this "comprehension" / realisation?
poetry is not some potato-sack / egg on a spoon race!
in terms of language...
english has already won the culture war...
but chinese, or hindi, as written in sanskrit?
well... that's won the existential war...
a billion here... and a billion over there...
mind you, i'll repeat myself...
the polytheistic aspect of christianity is that
christianity has a tendency to agitate schisms;
it's really a religion of the obelus (÷),
or as some might suggest: the obelisk of washington d.c.
thank **** it wasn't a giant **** of
masonry, with only one / two rooms in it.
the ****** religion just implodes,
and schizophrenics itself into a poly-diadem
that then tries to resolve some primitive geometric
form (square, triangle, a straight line, a dot)
of "respectability";
but reducing the tetragrammaton (yhwh) into a
dangling piece of metal, i.e. a † (crux)?
that! that's truly barbaric!
May 20, 2017
May 20, 2017 at 10:46 AM UTC