"scheming" poems
‘To bed! To bed!’
Said Sleepy-head;
‘Tarry awhile,’ said Slow;
‘Put on the pan,’
Said Greedy Nan;
‘We'll sup before we go.’
(from Mother Goose)
They sat at the kitchen table as
The candle flickered low,
And Greedy Nan put on the pan
To indulge her sister, Slow,
While Sleepy Weepy Annabelle
Blotted her book with tears,
And thought of her Beau from long ago
Who she hadn’t seen for years.
‘Why doesn’t Roger notice me,
Why doesn’t Alan Dell?
I’m wearing the dress cut low for me
And I’ve hitched my skirt as well.
I’ve a pretty turn to my ankle, so
You’d think it would drive them wild.’
‘But men are a mystery,’ said Slow,
‘And Alan Dell’s a child.’
While over the pan stood Greedy Nan,
Was cracking a turkey’s egg,
A lump of yeast and a slice of beast
And a single spider’s leg.
With a wing of bat and an ounce of fat
And a toe of frog for the spell,
She needed to turn her sister off
From her crush on Alan Dell.
For Greedy Nan was the eldest girl
And would have to marry first,
The other two would wait in the queue
Or their fortunes be reversed,
The omelette sizzled, and in the pan
She added before they saw,
A piece of some Devil’s Trumpet plant
For the mating game meant war.
She sliced the omelette into half
And she served them up a piece,
‘Didn’t you want?’ said Annabelle
But Slow enjoyed the feast.
‘I’m not that terribly hungry now
I’ve cooked it up in the pan,
I think I’ll just have a slice of bread,’
Said the scheming Greedy Nan.
They finished up and they sat awhile,
And they mused about their fate,
‘If Greedy Nan isn’t married soon,
For us it will be too late.’
‘I’ve set my sights on a country squire,’
Said Nan, without a blink,
Lured them away from her secret fire
To confuse what they might think.
‘The room is woozy, spinning around,
I’d better get me to bed,’
Said Annabelle, while Slow with a frown
Saw Dwarves dancing in her head.
But Greedy Nan was cleaning the pan
To clear all signs of the spell,
Her back was turned to her sisters, spurned
For the sake of Alan Dell.
And when he came in the morning
Greedy Nan was sat by the door,
While Annabelle and her sister Slow
Were lying dead on the floor,
‘I didn’t mean it to **** them, Al,
It was only a simple spell,’
But as he cuffed and led her away
He frowned, did Alan Dell.
David Lewis Paget
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 8:01 PM UTC
a (the) woman’s body (pretty pleasing)
is my reciprocal
her waist is my happy place
her neck is my doorway
the rest is
best when she is mirror accessorizing,
preening, **** upon first rising,
tallying the gains and the losses
unaware of my watching,
never satisfied she, tho she is 98% unadmitting contented,
as she shifts her weight,
from knee to knee extended alternating
with slow delicacy
for the pleasure is trebled
for her imagine image reverberates
throughout the house
for ever(y) mirror is pre-positioned,
accidentally angled just so, lol,
her image transported from living room to dining alcove
all the way to the kitchen’s bleacher seats
she doesn’t know and asks why I’m grinning,
answer is
no confessionary, no telling I’m swelling and
sinning
eyes scheming-dreaming of her reciprocity
she smiles and says
“good morning bad boy”
maybe she does know
but you won’t tell her,
we, you and me,
are pretty pleasing
she is 1/me
she is won over me
Aug 19, 2018
Aug 19, 2018 at 8:39 AM UTC
All that we know maybe distorted
Or a methodical manipulation
Where truth is obfuscated by few
Which spreads like an epidemic
Words used with vested interest
For us to play a role given to us
Memorizing the scripts, to deliver
Speeches with someone else’s ideas
Thoughts and feelings engineered
To suit the machinations of few
With sinister ideas to play with the mind
A conscious and intelligent manipulation
Bereft of the tools of our own judgment
Our perception is not even ours
For the mind has been violated
With the scheming and methodical manipulations
Sep 25, 2014
Sep 25, 2014 at 12:41 AM UTC
*Inebriated blue cloud,
I know you well enough
libertine ways you have
make you a lover of
deep thunder and meek rainbow
and also a chit of a lark
that loses itself in a song
be it is in grief or mirth.
Strange is the ways of my heart,
how much I long to fall in love with you
and proclaim this to the world scheming
to disrupt the pleasures one seeks
without any reason at all
"Look! love has no limits, no reason even
the lovely cloud, softness personified
caresses my foliage with sensuous abandon
kisses me with her wispy lips of moisture"
I know you understand, though unmindful of
my unbridled passion
making breaches in the limits,
I have no illusion about our improbable union.
True, how can we live
happily ever after?
I envy your gift of wings
though you have none visible,
you borrow it from the wayward wind,
too willing to carry your sweet load around.
I stood on the hill top,
wistfully thinking
that you will come and
take me within your soft folds
though I am a tree with deep running roots
that has become a restraining thing.
Freedom without any limit
gets you inebriated every minute,
your love for love, makes you desirable
you live in the present, suspend thoughts on time to come
as it is hypothetical, you say.
You are in a hurry to roam
wherever lovers lead you one after the other
do you have an urge to dissolve and pour-
as water, without any remorse?
Do you know my penitence for your love
on this hilltop is a true sacrifice?
My love for you doesn't bring anything
except my wilting hour after hour.
Let me be on your blue breast for moments
when my boiling love will seek
your shining center that melts, melts
we'd freeze as one, how long my darling?
Time would simply stand still
to a distance, i'd be transported,
where tree or cloud means nothing
we are an incessant rain lasting for ever.*
Feb 13, 2014
Feb 13, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Have you met the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man?
He scammed fig leafs in the garden,
And **** cloth in Ottoman.
outside-in, inside-out; upside-down, right-side up
The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can cuss.
He offers snake oil, spins a tale,
So you feel smart, healthy and hale.
from top to bottom, bottom to top
The Who-gee Boo-gee Man can't stop.
He swrawls with a Sharpie pen.
right is left, left is wrong
That's the Who-Gee Boo-Gee song.
Consultation for now is free,
No hidden added extra fees:
You buy two, you get three.
north to south, east to west
The Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man won't rest.
I've heard his feet are cloven;
The eyes are yellow, lips look swollen;
He has two fingers, wears silk- woven.
He sweats like water to the lowest level;
He's quicker than the slyest devil,
Selling hell, but we hear heaven;
Doing so twenty-four seven.
He photo-shops secret desires,
Twists truth-tellers into liars;
Artful, wily, scheming, subtle,
The Who-Gee Boo-Gee's a hungry jackal.
*today is the day, yesterday's late,
tomorrow's a place that just won't wait*
I met up with the Who-Gee Boo-Gee Man,
Peddling apples from my jardain.
Nov 20, 2018
Nov 20, 2018 at 10:26 AM UTC
You're not worthless.
But your actions exude it, worthlessness...
For anyone that could take the gentle, pristine heart, and make it spew purple-black hazes of vengeance, betrayal and loss is unworthy, unhappy, hateful and unwise.
But he still is not worthless.
I am finer, I am greater, I am better.
For you I will not lose my worth.
I have forgiven every last of your evils.
You violated me. You embarrassed me. You used me. You scared me.
And because of the many you's, I am learning my worth.
Hopefully someday you'll learn too.
That even you, with your heartless, lying, deceiving and scheming low self esteem, you o lost and ignorant soul, you are not worthless.
Jan 1, 2014
Jan 1, 2014 at 8:24 PM UTC
Oh, how disgusting.
All this disguising...
To become somebody that’s worth existing.
Oh, it's repulsing.
Fully engulfing...
Every truth, that ever found itself hiding.
So join me...
Hey let's play a lying game!
And ***** ourselves, with something exciting!
Deceiving, and heartless thieving...
After all life is so dull without some bleeding.
Such is life for a boring... Existence...
Cause I’m a...
Liar, liar!
And only that is true!
After all fire, fire...
Is something I pursue!
Just call out liar, liar!
And I’ll infect you too...
With the addictive taboo...
Of bidding the truth adieu.
Trust me!
That’s a lie, such a lie, for a lie!
You see, I can’t pry my own dyed scheming eyes.
So please, forgive my falsified truthful lies.
...Truly... Lying!
‘Cause I’m a liar.
Oh, how appalling.
The lies are crawling...
And covering every single little bit.
Oh, how revolting.
And full of loathing.
It’s nauseating!
Exhilarating,
Isn’t it?
Manipulating.
Hardly pulsating...
A heart like that, is the only one that’s free.
Without emotion,
Without devotion...
It’s much easier to fake something happy.
Much easier to fake yourself being happy...
So, join me!
Hey, let's play a lying game!
And cover ourselves, with something inviting!
Rewriting, and truly lying...
Finally a story that wasn’t meant to end with painful feelings!
Put on the masks, and let's have us a masquerade!
Dancing senselessly, on the shadows of the betrayed!
A smiling, and crying, and lying charade...
Such is life for a boring... Existence.
'Cause I’m a liar, liar,
And only that is true!
After all fire, fire,
Is something I pursue!
Just call out liar, liar!
And I’ll infect you too...
With the addictive taboo...
Of bidding the truth adieu.
'Cause I’m a liar.
Peek-a-peek-a-boo!
Ha, ha, I found you!
Hiding from the truth...
Well it’s nothing new.
Peek-a-peek-a-boo!
I can see right through!
Liars know liars...
Like you know the back of your own hand.
It’s bland.
Such an existence...
Where everything goes as planned.
Wasteland...
Is much more fun to navigate and understand.
That’s why...
I left it behind, my world is covered in lies.
That’s why...
It seems there’s no longer blue in my sky...
So...
Put on the masks, and let's have us one last masquerade!
Dancing senselessly, on the shadows of the betrayed!
A smiling, and crying, and lying charade!
Such is life for the boring existence... Of a liar.
Am I a... liar? Liar?
Does it seem that way to you?
After all fire, fire...
Is burning through the roof...
'Cause you’re all... liars, liars!
And I don’t know what’s true!
After all fire, fire...
Has ravaged all I knew...
I call out liar, liar!
I cannot trust you!
But the world has gone askew...
And there’s nothing else to do...
Except bid the truth adieu...
Leave this, leave it behind, hide it in the back of your head!
I’ve given up on all I knew,
There is nothing, that is truly true.
I’ve given up on all I knew,
Because after they betrayed me, they’ve gone askew.
I’ve given up on all I knew,
Because life, people are so boring and dull,
There is nothing for me here.
I don’t see a point in living...
That’s a lie..?
Trust me!
What’s a lie?
Is it lies?
Only lies!
I can’t pry my blind eyes, while I cry...
Please, forgive my blackened sky full of lies!
Truly... Lying!
Truly... Dying...
Aug 12, 2018
Aug 12, 2018 at 5:28 AM UTC
Reflecting disdainfully, remembering painfully,
upsetting, annoying, troublesome
Bickering, sarcastic, disputing, bombastic,
arrogant, conceited, unwelcome
Fastidious relations, private fixations,
foreboding, disturbing resentment
Silently scheming, nobody weeping,
selfish, unblinking, TRIUMPHANT!
Feb 7, 2010
Feb 7, 2010 at 10:23 AM UTC
Once when we were children,
We would run to here and there.
Across the hills of our homeland
With the wind in our fair hair.
The sun would shine
The rain would fall,
Never to hinder our play.
And all that could stop us
Was the call of our mothers
At the darkening of each day.
Sticks became our swords back then,
Keen of edge and shining bright.
The willow became our fortress
To defend until the night.
And when our foes were weeping
Once more we became the child.
Fast asleep we were sleeping
Imagination running wild.
We got that little bit older,
That ever bit more bolder.
Ambition came to soon.
We went to school
Were told what to do,
And all that we could be.
Some said 'Spaceman'
One 'Veterinarian'
The wise child said 'Happy'
"No No! You need a profession"
Seemed to be the moral of that lesson.
But the teacher didn't understand the question
That she asked.
For her days of dreaming
And childish scheming
Were lost in a distant past.
Mar 28, 2012
Mar 28, 2012 at 10:06 AM UTC
Parenting
organizing the day,
while the baby room adjacent
makes dreaming rock n' roll noises
siren calls to lay in bed,
semi-alert, on guard duty,
scheming about dis n' dat,
you are sleeping, dreaming,
wide awake seeing,
multitasking eyes closed simultaneously.
lesser of a poet, more a notate-er,
list keeper, note taker,
arguing with yourself inside the head,
actually feeling the thoughts
coursing, lurking, seeing both sides now,
parentally, washing the dishes
of the hours and years ahead.
while the woman-mother
makes her soprano dreaming noises,
you laugh at the orchestra of
******* sighing somnolent noises,
a cadenza of love dancing in your
irresistible wide awake dreams.
paying the bills, lying in the dark,
you wonder-worry about the agenda
unknown that will overgrow you,
fast creeping up the grain of your skin,
ivy on stone skin walls.
lala lala
you borrow baby's lullaby,
yourself calming,
keeping time, silly rhyming,
organizing the days ahead
in you head, while,
recording the harmonies of sensory inputs.
the dark provides the cloak
where you alone
feel and hear the worry and laugh lines knitting
into a single stitch of parenting.
1/20/2013
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 11:02 AM UTC
*Between the night and daylight,
As twilight begins to shower,
Comes a lull in the day's preparations,
Cherished as the Kittys' Hour.
I hear in the kitchen beside me,
The patter of tiny feet,
Rumbles of varying motors
With "meow's" gentle and sweet.
Leaping from counter with agile grace
On my shoulder with a purr;
Sail grave Thomas and sweet Lady Jane,
And Susan of golden fur.
A "meow," and then a long silence,
I know by mischievous eyes,
They are scheming and musing together,
To vanquish my weary sighs.
With sudden dash from the hallway,
Tortie bounds into my arms!
Felines of all colours sit starring,
Delighting me with their charms.
Frolicking with skillful ease,
Tossing and batting their catnip-mouse;
If I run to escape, they surround me,
They appear to overflow the house.
Suffocating me with their kisses,
Furry paws patting my face;
And though they have torn the kitchen blinds,
They dazzle me with their grace.
I hug you all close in loving arms,
And will n'er let you depart,
Nor ****** you dears out to coyotes,
For you each have won my heart.
And here shall you dwell forever,
Cherished more each golden day;
Till this glad house fall into ruin,
And I in dust shall decay.*
~Hilda~
Oct 31, 2012
Oct 31, 2012 at 3:07 AM UTC
train myself to write anywhere and at any time...
as commissioned by ms. melan
~'~'~'~'~
so I, being a being,
a poet who carries his mind scheming
with him:
drags along his body and soul,
just in case:
that his hands might feel the touch of
beauty, skin and beyond,
the exteriors of his interiors,
to feel, to feel, to feel
every one of his surfaces,
the reality of his peculiar real
his eyes so one can envision the unimaginable,
and thus, never be satisfied,
for all is
always new,
beyond original
that his ugly, ungainly ears,
may never miss the sound of his tripping & falling
head!over!heels with the realization,
he just might be foolishly
in love
the tastes of life's living that
make his pulse race,
crease his smiling face,
causing his blood pressure so high
he pleads to surrender,
just begging to let his tongue
survive
and smells that arouse,
producing & promising
words proud & profound,
that have yet to succeed
in capturing
the fullness
of the
special musk odor
that masks
allure of attraction
no, not a lot to ask for…
5:26am
SunSep13
two zero two five
Sep 14, 2025
Sep 14, 2025 at 5:35 AM UTC
His money isn't free.
On the first date,
He picked you up in a Phantom
which haunted your inner gold-digger
Digging to harvest stardom, but
His money isn't free.
He's wearing a Rolex
You're wearing a Swatch wrist
Hoping to switch wrists.
It's much too sad that
His money isn't free.
He's harvested his cotton
And you're ready to rob him
But his ex keeps calling
Little Miss Lee Kaching!
She can sense your scheming;
she screams through the speakerphone,
"His money isn't free!"
Now he's seen
your blades, your spades, your grenades
hidden in the dark of your shade.
He's grabbing those keys
Leaving his seat saying,
"My money isn't free!"
Now you're left alone
With your flip phone,
Not even an iPhone.
And the waiter comes by,
Drops the bill and says,
"This meal isn't free."
Apr 17, 2015
Apr 17, 2015 at 1:11 PM UTC
They say grief comes in waves
varying in size and intensity;
some start small, moving silently,
might seem harmless but engulf
me within no time and I
was never taught how to swim.
Thrashing and flailing in the water
I find it difficult to breathe.
The seas of sadness pull me far
into their abyss where there is no
light or hope to get out of the misery;
sometimes even that feels enticing and comforting.
On other days these waves come
roaring loud in the ears, threatening
to steal my ground away from me, often
I brave to surf over them with the
help of distractions and they
recede, scheming to gulp me down later.
Wonder how I end up on these shores every time
while on a train or on my bed, in a
classroom or in a conference hall, amongst
the crowded streets and when alone,
memories of yesterday strewn like sea shells
lead me to the waters and I can always hear their elegies.
And when the moon shines its brightest
on them, you get to see the scene of tranquillity
but deep inside my heart there is
a storm brewing slowly that takes
various names every season, maybe there is
one named after you too, who knows.
Do you want to come with me down
to the ocean of tears? We could let
those waves kiss our feet while we watch
the sunset together, I will tell you
all my stories and you could share yours too.
I hope you know how to swim.
Sep 27, 2023
Sep 27, 2023 at 4:48 PM UTC
Relaxing peacefully on her lap
Her fingers ran through his hair,
And,speaking soft, soothing words
Waves of calm caressed him there.
Delilah used her feminine wiles,
Honeyed words dripped from her lips,
A sense of serenity enveloped his soul
From her tender fingertips.
The secret of his amazing strength
Was reluctantly revealed to her ears
Leading to open the floodgates
Of times of sorrow and tears.
On her lap he continued to rest,
Unawares of her subtle scheming;
Carefully his luxuriant locks were cut
With scissors sharp and gleaming.
Little could Samson have known
The intentions of her black heart,
Her cunning and overpowering charm
Hit him as with a poisoned dart.
Samson’s strength suddenly left him,
As weak as a kitten he became,
Delilah had truly duped him,
Although it seemed to her a game.
As hard as granite was her heart,
No true feelings of love were there
Else, why would she hurt him
With no chance of any repair?
His life had a very sad ending,
Of this most people have heard,
It’s recorded for our perusal
Within the pages of God’s Word.
The lesson to be learned
From this ghastly episode
Is that disloyalty is as acid
That the heart can corrode.
Like a wilting yellow lily
Under the sun’s searing heat,
Samson’s strength melted
Into a pool of utter defeat.
Remember this we should
And be careful how we act
Lest our deceptive hearts
This drama we re-enact…
Jan 19, 2012
Jan 19, 2012 at 1:45 AM UTC
Of all my misnomers,
Mistooks of arrogance,
To think I could career careen
A life
in poetry,
Extra pressure of the
Broadest of a narrowing sujet,
the scripting of poesy
on the restricted topical
of only love poetry
Must have been punch love drunk,
When that notion crazy stung
My cerebal,
Gored discor-ed cortex,
Probably just another
Post a Loving,
dreaming scheming moment,
Or reading a Shakespeare sonnet,
Or
Midst the long lonely pauses
somewhere,
*(S)under the rainbow,
tween teener and geezer,
and
Everything in between*
made myself a poet of a restricted diet
not "eating " for days at a time
for love comes and goes,
frequent departures much more easygoing & common,
than regularly scheduled arrivals,
easy go, not so easy come,
what was I thinking of?
what a she-muk,
talking about cutting your nose off
to spite your face,
Jul 20, 2025
Jul 20, 2025 at 8:13 AM UTC
(Inspired by article below)
I.
Continuity
your filibuster egg of sand
dazzled curiosity
with creaky shell of hints
heaped upon the tedium
of knowledge's unfurl undeterred
by encyclopedic impatience
Assurances of rip(Van Winkl)ed
economics shooed paper strings of
revelation like anarchy-powered
taxes summoning a foreword
to anachronistic campaigns
of environmental friendliness
II.
Meanwhile years
have been filed down to flashes of
chronology for continuity's organic rebus
However long it took
the economic karma to fall into the
abodes of hedonistic pharaohs
it was instant
Skin that ruled behind the constitution
of allergic breath
bailed on the bones against their most
sublime intentions
Limbo-treading landlords
huddled in their mummified freeze
after breadline bashers scolded them
with the spoils of a new brand
of pyramid scheming
Robbers of the coffin palaces
stole the intimations of identity
theft from today
Immortality and freedom
were compelled to share a meaning
like estranged siblings
or bound dynasties
I(a).
Abydos
how you coyly toyed with us
with a diversion bordering on monolithic
04 23 14
Apr 23, 2014
Apr 23, 2014 at 12:58 PM UTC
I couldn't see, but water
reflecting, it danced from the sun
black cormorant dove under stars and pearls of sea
for silvery fish to fill his beak
a small boat I rowed
long through water weeds, cat tail reeds
paddles cut the diamond day sparkling
sandy shores mollusk strewn
rippled shells shimmering blue
oysters bubbled, shallows breathing
seagull smiled watchful scheming
a beach fire to warm the night
the dusky sun, no longer to keep
soon the moon between the trees
radiant, it wakes the stars from sleep
Aug 7, 2012
Aug 7, 2012 at 1:42 PM UTC
I think I could know
How you might feel about her.
I can see it,
The way she makes you smile.
But honestly, you arn't the same
Beside her.
Waiting for boy's night out
Ain't ever gonna be my style.
I remember when you were a rebel,
Just a renegade without a plan.
I can see, somehow, she's got you dreaming
Of playing house.
Think of what you're doing, brotherman!
Can't you see beyond her glamour?
She's cast a wicked spell on you.
That thing you feel for which you clamor,
It ain't true love; don't think she loves you, too.
I know it's not my place to tell you that she's posing,
And posting up inside your bed to get Some of your dough.
Who am I but some kind of little tag along?
But I can see the hurt she's going to put you through...
I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't mean to be a blocker.
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.
Every time we meet she has to be a part of it.
It's not my business, but I just don't want to see.
When the lies unfurl,
I don't want you to be mad at me,
For having been the one to have tell you all about her scheming ways.
She knows I know.
She's as sly as night is shady.
When she whispers your name after dark
With her lilt,
You don't care a thing about your pride.
You give it all to her.
Everything you've got to give
Before she even ask for it.
You give it all to her,
Everything, Everything,
Everything to her...
So, I'm giving up
The Times we spend together.
I know right now you're chasing after your high.
I'll still love you
As much as any brother.
I'll be here for you whenever you find the time.
I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't aim to be a blocker.
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.
I think I could know,
How you might feel about her.
I can't blame you,
But open up your eyes.
A girl like her
Is never going to be faithful.
Not to you, or anyone she knows.
So, I'm giving up
The Times we spend together.
I know right now you're out chasing your high.
When you hurt, just know that I hate it for you.
Maybe, next time, you won't brush everything else aside.
One day I'll be out strolling.
Or maybe pool, or bowling.
There'll come a time
When the binds
Of fruitless love no longer keep.
One day we'll fly
To far off never ever land.
And leave this past behind.
There'll come a day,
And come what may,
We will pick back up where we let it go,
That's how we roll.
I think I could know
How you feel about her.
What made you think
That's something I couldn't know.
Yes, I will miss you,
Don't want to kiss you,
No **** Bro,
I love you.
But for now,
I need to let you go.
I'm sorry, Dude.
I don't aim to be a blocker -
Not that anything else could stand
Between you and her,
The pixie with her fairy dust.
All your priorities have been re-arranged.
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 2:02 AM UTC
Enter Lizzy in the foothill forests & Loki up in the mountains
Both say their hymns separately initially.
Loki at the mountains
Loki: I am so happy of my freedom
Lizzy in the forest at the foothills
Lizzy: I can't imagine of a better situation
Loki moving down the mountain
Loki: But I want a true lover to mould me better
Lizzy moving towards the mountain
Lizzy: I now want a true lover to honor my feelings
They meet each other and conversation follows
Loki: How could I come across such a beauty!
Lizzy: Even I think likewise, you are so handsome!
Loki: Come, let's make love right now & right here.
Lizzy: How could you ****** me so easily, is it a magic.
Loki: My name is Loki, I'm the God here and you should fall into my arms listening this.
Loki transforms into his celestial form.
Lizzy faints seeing Loki's transformation as she realizes that it was the dreaded-scheming Norse God.
Loki catches her as she faints and takes her to his cave on the mountain.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 7:00 AM UTC
-for Zukiswa Mvunguse~
and for
~ Jul,
who once again,
loved each line best~
having already deduced that:
“the unplanned is his plan,
it’s his faceted flaws
that refract his coloratura”^
the titled alliteration teases him into thinking
there, is more to be said,
more to be prayed,
the unplanned lesser lesson is as-of-the-yet unlearned,
and the sunburst of a full fledged
lying-in-bed born from a static spark of kinetic energy,
awaking in an unfamiliar bed
or a too familiar state of mind,
begs for birth and vainglorious death-by-anon/amity
of another poem
I have written poems commissioned,
“write about suicide,” asked a friend,
“take this word and artfully knead it,” once, was once an oft request,
twisty manipulate your scheming resources into
finely assaying a field rock raw,
laboratory mind-mine it into an essay that delve dives
where you fear to treacherous tread,
resultant, an awkward prayer, now, a valued mineral
no poem is truly planned and no prayer ever truly answered,
but as you compose, pushing the last, next word
ever farther to the right,
you self-confess, expecting no absolution, that the poem,
this one as well,
and the next, and the next, and the next
has always been planned since your inception,
always a prayer asked, and in creation conception,
answered even if not directly answered,
for
in the bare minimum asking,
is the answering,
is the planning,
is the poem and the prayer,
is his owned
alliteration
Mar 24, 2019
Mar 24, 2019 at 8:16 AM UTC
Hood Canal
I couldn't see, but water
reflecting, it danced from stars of sun
Black cormorant dove under stars and pearls of sea
silvery fished his netted beak
A small boat left untied to float, I rowed
weaving cat tail reeds, long through water weeds
Paddles cut my diamond day - sparkling
jewel of soul swayed, prayed to dive me deeper
Sandy shores mollusk strewn
rippled shells covered shimmering blue
Oysters bubbled shallows breathing
seagull smiled watchful scheming
Beach fire to warm the night
and rock the dusky sun to sleep
the coming moon between trees
dark night, the stars to weep
Dec 13, 2012
Dec 13, 2012 at 9:33 AM UTC
The one created for sabotage
Adored by few
Abhorred by numerous numbers
He treads an eternal sorrow
Which tortures his blighted soul
Scheming against ingenious blueprints
His destiny's been read
By gypsy cherubs
He's learned the path
Trodden by none
His predestination
Answering to this heavy burden
His Father has brought a rebellious notion
No other celestial entity has knowledge
Except for him and his apostles
Agreeing to God's earthly will
To be forever cast into a shadow
Agreeing through pure love
For his Father
And sent to tortuous furnace
Unbeknowst to mortals of seraphic Lucifer's
startling sacrifice
God's grievous banishment of his son
For he only aspired
To become like his Father
Jan 4, 2014
Jan 4, 2014 at 10:02 AM UTC
Good Day spoken in a bad austrailian accent
bad juju voodoo clear light poltergeist on disablity
Hoarding every scrap of miserable memories attached to trash
your apartment is a holiday for nightmares and childmolesters
******* magazines, old sanitary napkins , bad vhs movies
lay like dead soldiers waiting for the war to end
Black bags and boxes scattered every where are villages to rats
and every unknown pestilence you can only read about in medical textbooks.
half eaten pizzas covered in pickles dried up sadly looking at empty pills
You have no hold on me I can't understand your pain nor will i listen to your overdramatic ******** about whoever
or scheming to defraud Walmart
Your mutilation is a scar spelling sociopathic miscreant child trapped in an old mismatched shell of no clear gender.
Your diagnostic prophecies from the dsm5 dismissed like school on a snow day.
Will commands the unentanglement
uncurse
unfear
dispell all your contradictions accusations monologrhthyms
bad music choices and echoes of muttered mustard.
only truth will be uplifted
Peace be with you
whereever you are currently infesting enjoy your dora the explorer ice cream
Was there ever a floor in here?
Mar 25, 2010
Mar 25, 2010 at 12:53 AM UTC