"slavishly" poems
~
*I work in the clouds
Building a world out of hype
I could be a beekeeper
A prison guard
Reverse pop idol
Extinguishers, all
Hackers ferry contemporaries
Around the diseased city
Merchants of transference
Polymorphing
Paths and angles
Pieces of eight
They could be brutal war fantasies
White noise translations of the snow
Cathedral nights in the deli
Ghost recordings from an opera house
Each with its own price tag
All the pretty girls
Thick with mascara
Go to plasticity
Drink chloroform
100 aspects of subterranea
So long as they come home
With a credit problem
Money devotion
It's what transferred us
Into numbered silhouettes
Slavishly pouring our blood into the sea*
~
Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 5:12 PM UTC
the Egyptians of ancient times
worked in the sun for few dimes
they slavishly carted square blocks
to ***** temples and pyramid docks
as the sun streamed down
upon their heads
the workers in stone
wanted their sun god dead
they offered orisons
to Ra telling him he'd gone too far
by sending forth an over abundance
of hot solar bars
so the laborers of ancient Egypt
took refuge from Ra's heat
in the pharaoh's cool crypt
Sep 17, 2014
Sep 17, 2014 at 7:29 PM UTC
I devote my higher mind to the ardent
Pursuit of the summit, leaving
Verse to chance and its laws,
For when the thought is lofty and noble,
The sentence will naturally seek it,
And rhythm slavishly serve it.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 1:07 PM UTC
Channelling Nostradamus from the sixteenth century
Did you see what you just wrote
Or did you just dream what we see?
When your prophecies come true
I'll say, You only had one view
So good luck to you and your future note
One shan't believe from an invisible visionary
When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring
The ******* ***** always seems to wear lingerie
That always looks, just a little ******
But never ever, do they slavishly try
To imitate their true identity or culture
Not like those Kardashian dogs, that dress up
Always trying to stylise society, for a very large fee
Speaking of canines, where's that poodle named Paris
She had some real talent, didn't she?
When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring
I wish upon a **** star of mine
Whilst screaming up to ones heaven
Most pussycats lives, end in about nine
But my time was all over, within almost seven
Maybe I really could, make it all alone
On this place god calls, my extraordinary rendition?
Or shall I live this false life, as some sort of robotic clone
Not truly knowing oneself, therefore, failing my own audition?
When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring
Well, just get back on that bronco horse, named Toff
Dust off that hat, once worn by certain gent
For they will forever try and attempt to buck you off
You the rider, of this very serious event
So, forget about the fame and good times
and the overhyped lives of most Hollywood stars
Live within your means and save your silver dimes
In your half empty or half full, glass money jars
When I wish upon a **** star
It makes me appreciate who we are
Everything that she'll be requiring
I'll think about you and make it inspiring
When I wish upon a **** star
My dreams start to become truth by far.
Sep 5, 2019
Sep 5, 2019 at 6:23 PM UTC
I sit by sorrow's streams
Amidst wistful longing
Your first soft kiss that lingered
will forever haunt my dreams
How sad it seems
to be so slavishly in love
weary even of life,
such sorrowful extremes,
but I hear remnants of our song
and pine for your possession
to live without you is my bane
life has dealt a bitter wrong
lost in the loneliness
this bereft heart grieves
solace now I seek, in
whiskey's lullaby to forgetfulness
ALesiach © 07/27/2019
Jul 27, 2019
Jul 27, 2019 at 9:14 PM UTC
Alexander K Opicho
(Eldoret, Kenya;[email protected])
Languages are elastic realities of ages
Going beyond political and historical chauvinism
That selfishly blends into exclusive nations
The European languages we slavishly speak
In diversity of the world is a ****** testimony,
Ostensible Afro-American cultural civilization
Are mere protégés of transplanted tongues
In forlorn position of knowledge
That derides cultural Darwinism
Unto this last that Language
is born and grow from the native soil,
Nurtured by facts of history in timbre of altruism
Where misfortune of history ***** my stature
Planting unknown and unnamed language
In my ****** soil of pristine times
My conscience not yet passively accepting
The changing misfortunes of the transplanted English
As they are at current times
The negations of vicious cultural Darwinist
Condemning me a victim of tonguistry.
Feb 18, 2014
Feb 18, 2014 at 9:52 AM UTC
To know my own
Thoughts, hopes, wants
To dream myself not caught
Pretending away the one
That would not, will never
Has already come, now over us
Yet here I am
Caught Where She Left
Stuck with my own
Thoughts, hopes, wants
Struggling in full circles
This slavishly special level
Of my own self contained hell
While alone I watch her
In mechanical fantasies of my
Thoughts, hopes, wants
Caught and not capable
Of moving forwards, on,
Getting over all I've lost
Making my peace with those
Thoughts, hopes, wants...
Caught when ever she haunts me
Where she left off.
Dec 8, 2014
Dec 8, 2014 at 12:42 AM UTC
Slavishly touting laudatory
Remarks that
Run counter to his belief
Could not let a journalist
A moment's relief!
"The incumbent
Has flickered
Darkness piercing light
Now as things are bright
None stop
We have to condemn the past
To catapult the present
On the infallible mast!"
Conveying messages
Without beef,
Also forced to turn
Eyes, to reality, deaf,
He is smote by
Excruciating grief
Freedom of expression
Turned brief!
To spare himself
A stomach pang
He has to allow
Political thugs,
In the guise of
Media bosses
That form a
Government's favour
Ingratiating gang,
His mouth to gag!
Intimidated by them
Into self censorship
The facility of his pen
He could not keep!
Ironically,
A mainstream press,
With a toothless face,
Rather conveys
An autocrat or,
To be precise,
A clinically dead
Government in place!//
Jul 19, 2016
Jul 19, 2016 at 2:46 AM UTC
forget perfect
my friends
as we manifest
our aspirations
it's about the journey
not the score card
i don't understand
slavish worship
of big data
like it was
a big mama
of truth? streuth!
more data won't
help discernment
this is not science
and way less than perfect
yet slavishly we
attend our screens
providing metadata more
hash tag what for?
Jul 2, 2017
Jul 2, 2017 at 4:09 AM UTC
Churned out from the factory
the fractured of
society
what fuckin' hope is
there left for me?
I want a stewards inquiry.
They'll take them
young
at the point of
a gun
make them sign on
the dotted line
and time after time has run away
they'll say,
it's too late now for second thoughts.
In The Lord Chief Justice courts
an appeal is filed by
the pregnant women with the
awkward smiles,
but it's far too late to remonstrate
or join a group and demonstrate.
The fracture turns
as the factory burns and the fireman dressed in red
are all at the local football match,
though some are still in bed
and I know that hope has upped and gone,
I'd have done the same, but I took too long and on the wrongs and rights of those flesh coloured tights
the Lord Chief Justice rules.
Take your children
fill in forms
put them in the factory
bed them down in dorms.
Breed them
Feed them
we will need them to
churn out more men
Society salutes you.
But we take them young,
under the hammer at the
point of a gun
auction lots the lot of them.
I am slavishly aware of the value of life and the need for fresh air
unfortunately
so are they
they'll keep us grey
oxygen starved
the beauty we see has
already been halved
and soon to be quartered
and we're being slaughtered
down at the knackers yard
living's incredibly hard
even with a union card
we try
some succeed
but
only because the
factory
decrees it.
Jun 5, 2016
Jun 5, 2016 at 4:02 AM UTC
And were it not for the sun
would there be dream?
Would cloud cry upon the day?
I would find, you and I, slavishly cuddled ‘round dragon breath
and every sight would be for sore eyes, lest they be blind.
Every man would be a beggar.
Children cackle in the dark.
Women, free of childbirth, are instead consumed by the world.
Without the sun there is no age.
We are what we haven’t chosen to be.
This is what I see when you’re not with me.
Emptiness separating reality from understanding.
And I call to you.
And I call to you.
And I scream for you!
And I boil alive in the broth, my own anger...
Whatever I can cook up to feed the hunger that you inspire.
But
a peace shatters the storm.
A shaft of light jousts the gloom like heavenly charioteer.
What else could it be?
It is you, so long as you shine for me.
May 22, 2017
May 22, 2017 at 4:31 AM UTC
Torn winter sight,
Cartoon loneliness,
Speaking slavishly,
Under the breath.
Trying to lose,
the way,
by gaining,
a path,
Set forth quasi-fold,
Sorted under magnetism,
The cloudy silver sigh,
Serpent hissed,
Past the foyer,
Cast aside belonging,
Become silent,
And have it come to past.
Nov 14, 2014
Nov 14, 2014 at 4:44 PM UTC
My girl.
You are in the midst
of goddesses
upon a pedestal.
Chiseled stone holds
you firm atop
it's foundation.
Yet, we mere mortals
must hold committed
to the hands of time.
We damaged each other.
My guilt, your guilt
keep me slavishly
tied to my goddess.
You are on a pedestal.
Oct 29, 2018
Oct 29, 2018 at 9:46 PM UTC
Standard behaviour from the Russians. Obliteration by sheer numbers and force. 190,000 troops on Ukraine's border, now forging their way into the pristine land of their cousins.
Shall be interesting to see their tactics, Russians were never good at improvising, Slavishly taking their orders from the war room, those old Generals who fought long ago in Afghanistan and perhaps joined the action in the Chechen affair, both, of which, ended in ignominious withdrawal by the Soviet Union.
Putin's forces have never been encouraged to think for themselves, never encouraged to initiate. The leaders always suspicious of delegating authority. The lesser commanders will not assume responsibility. All decisions will come from the war room. This is the Russian way. Commit the cannon fodder, obliterate by sheer numbers. Stalin did it, now Putin is taking up the chalice.
Under the pretext of "Peacekeeping forces". Putin won't stop at the Dneiper river, he wants the whole country, he wants the vast wheatfields and the mineral wealth. He wants, what he regards as his entitlement, that which used to be a vassal part of the old USSR.
So far, the response from NATO has been weak. The USA, war weary from Vietnam and Afghanistan, wants no part of the action. Token sanctions and a dithering resonation from old Joe show little resolve there. Boris Johnson, who needs an injection of popularity after his Covid indiscretions, is at least broadcasting belligerence to the Russian invaders and is following up by sending advanced weaponry and advisors to an embattled Ukraine.
Broadly the world is sitting on the fence, muttering outrage and wringing the hands. Putin appears to have taken their measure well.
M.
25 Feb 2022
Feb 24, 2022
Feb 24, 2022 at 3:16 PM UTC