"statute" poems
for Tascha
deep in the pond of unhappy, swimming,
drowning the next contemporaneous
depression thought quickly swallowed,
desperation in quick glances everywhere,
dawn is no consolation but just another
daily drawing tighter of twine cutting
disillusionment
dear god, commences every thought,
delayed answers have yet to arrive,
**** the deity's non-responsivness,
dare not say out loud lest,
deserved fates be worse, be realized,
didn't know? how can that be?
disguiser par excellent, I am the original
deceiver
But I never think about
death or dying, for that would be
defeat finale, a statute to, a status of none, a
destiny some wick spark, still insists can be
deferred
differed always,
diffidently, but grasping yet at the
double entendre that is my
dark vision of a future already past
May 2015
May 30, 2015
May 30, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
The old fable covers a doctrine ever new and sublime; that there is One Man, — present to all particular men only partially, or through one faculty; and that you must take the whole society to find the whole man. Man is not a farmer, or a professor, or an engineer, but he is all. Man is priest, and scholar, and statesman, and producer, and soldier. In the divided or social state, these functions are parcelled out to individuals, each of whom aims to do his stint of the joint work, whilst each other performs his. The fable implies, that the individual, to possess himself, must sometimes return from his own labor to embrace all the other laborers. But unfortunately, this original unit, this fountain of power, has been so distributed to multitudes, has been so minutely subdivided and peddled out, that it is spilled into drops, and cannot be gathered. The state of society is one in which the members have suffered amputation from the trunk, and strut about so many walking monsters, — a good finger, a neck, a stomach, an elbow, but never a man.
Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things. The planter, who is Man sent out into the field to gather food, is seldom cheered by any idea of the true dignity of his ministry. He sees his bushel and his cart, and nothing beyond, and sinks into the farmer, instead of Man on the farm. The tradesman scarcely ever gives an ideal worth to his work, but is ridden by the routine of his craft, and the soul is subject to dollars. The priest becomes a form; the attorney, a statute-book; the mechanic, a machine; the sailor, a rope of a ship.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Entangled, inseparable, the dark and the light; the sun and the night.
Sandy blond hair and a musical laugh; jet black locks and swiftest flight.
Heights they encompass and the depths they rule.
One, united forever, from balance to fall.
He, the prophet, musician and scholar; She, the maiden, huntress and guardian.
Spheres opposing, mixed and mighty.
Fire and water, the shadows in the forest and the piercing rays of dawn.
Starstruck, moonstruck and tied together in lunar madness.
The Lord, the Lady, marked by fate bound by destiny, yet the fall begins.
Intoxicating, this bond is; the burden of power, responsibility and statute.
Deep they fell, into abysmal glorious ecstasy, and crossed the forbidden boundary.
Their spheres merge, tempted they are and temptation the succumb to.
Blood, the blood they share, reddens the moon and darkens the sun.
The Earth descends into eternal twilight.
Oct 2, 2013
Oct 2, 2013 at 12:23 AM UTC
Hear ye my statute, men of Attica--
Ye who of bloodshed judge this primal cause;
Yea, and in future age shall Aegeus's host
Revere this court of jurors. This the hill
Of Ares, seat of Amazons, their tent,
What time 'gainst Theseus, breathing hate, they came,
Waging fierce battle, and their towers upreared,
A counter-fortress to Acropolis;--
To Ares they did sacrifice, and hence
This rock is titled Areopagus.
Here then shall sacred Awe, to Fear allied,
By day and night my lieges hold from wrong,
Save if themselves do innovate my laws,
If thou with mud, or influx base, bedim
The sparkling water, nought thou'lt find to drink.
Nor Anarchy, nor Tyrant's lawless rule
Commend I to my people's reverence;--
Nor let them banish from their city Fear;
For who 'mong men, uncurbed by fear, is just?
Thus holding Awe in seemly reverence,
A bulwark for your State shall ye possess,
A safeguard to protect your city walls,
Such as no mortals otherwhere can boast,
Neither in Scythia, nor in Pelops's realm.
Behold! This Court august, untouched by bribes,
Sharp to avenge, wakeful for those who sleep,
Establish I, a bulwark to this land.
This charge, extending to all future time,
I give my lieges. Meet it as ye rise,
Assume the pebbles, and decide the cause,
Your oath revering. All hath now been said.
3.6k
Oh! pleasant exercise of hope and joy!
For mighty were the auxiliars which then stood
Upon our side, we who were strong in love!
Bliss was it in that dawn to be alive,
But to be young was very heaven!—Oh! times,
In which the meagre, stale, forbidding ways
Of custom, law, and statute, took at once
The attraction of a country in romance!
When Reason seemed the most to assert her rights,
When most intent on making of herself
A prime Enchantress—to assist the work
Which then was going forward in her name!
Not favoured spots alone, but the whole earth,
The beauty wore of promise, that which sets
(As at some moment might not be unfelt
Among the bowers of paradise itself )
The budding rose above the rose full blown.
What temper at the prospect did not wake
To happiness unthought of? The inert
Were roused, and lively natures rapt away!
They who had fed their childhood upon dreams,
The playfellows of fancy, who had made
All powers of swiftness, subtilty, and strength
Their ministers,—who in lordly wise had stirred
Among the grandest objects of the sense,
And dealt with whatsoever they found there
As if they had within some lurking right
To wield it;—they, too, who, of gentle mood,
Had watched all gentle motions, and to these
Had fitted their own thoughts, schemers more wild,
And in the region of their peaceful selves;—
Now was it that both found, the meek and lofty
Did both find, helpers to their heart’s desire,
And stuff at hand, plastic as they could wish;
Wcre called upon to exercise their skill,
Not in Utopia, subterranean fields,
Or some secreted island, Heaven knows where!
But in the very world, which is the world
Of all of us,—the place where in the end
We find our happiness, or not at all!
2.9k
Foster, what family? Lower class, dream of vacation
******** what trickles down, affecting a life situation
White to Blue Collar; a rebuild or invasion?
Millions inside the boxes of convention
Justified superficial, backhanded salutations
Refute Love, proposed as mankind’s invention
Pulled by a string of instant gratification
Finding freedom’s temporary
If ever, long term locations
Constricted, system of classifications
The socially admissible connections,
Not to mention gangs of corrections
Flowing through the previous, my own generation
For the infinite hours
One after the other
Trade integrity for the illusion of power
Not all those with a gun should be considered a coward
Face the souls sold on Wall Street,
Remember those from Twin Towers
Ground zero, abandoned. Now bare, desolate
The idea of terrorism denied, while some wrestle it
Rationales dislocate, post hairline fracture
Frontal lobe imposter, posing in rapture
As if talent, love, or hate could ever be captured
Held at gun point, then forgotten years after
My children will one day look to me for the answer
What’s society, this twisted maze we live in?
I will gaze in their eyes with the same exact question
And don’t ever allow me again not to mention
Real criminals can’t learn from minute or life-long detentions
Some incapable of that level of retention
As our battered soldiers forever sleep at attention
Politically correct, tongues in consistent hesitation
Kiss police *** only to go to the station
Before the thought of who signed the citation
Treated as if it were a felony violation
Our basic rights according to our nation
Arizona & Co for minority elimination
Die fighting the statute of poverty’s limitations
vi.i.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 6:22 AM UTC
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king,—
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who
Through public scorn,—mud from a muddy spring,—
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow,—
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field,—
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield,—
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless—a book sealed;
A Senate, Time’s worst statute unrepealed,—
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestuous day.
2.5k
1167
Alone and in a Circumstance
Reluctant to be told
A spider on my reticence
Assiduously crawled
And so much more at Home than I
Immediately grew
I felt myself a visitor
And hurriedly withdrew
Revisiting my late abode
With articles of claim
I found it quietly assumed
As a Gymnasium
Where Tax asleep and Title off
The inmates of the Air
Perpetual presumption took
As each were special Heir—
If any strike me on the street
I can return the Blow—
If any take my property
According to the Law
The Statute is my Learned friend
But what redress can be
For an offense nor here nor there
So not in Equity—
That Larceny of time and mind
The marrow of the Day
By spider, or forbid it Lord
That I should specify.
2.5k
Do what I say,
not what I've done.
What I did was past tense
to the prose I've become.
Words spoken
shed truth
on the bells rung.
Pronouns succumb
to life underneath.
What has the sun shone?
Same thing moon's shunned.
Twirling thumbs
and grinding teeth.
Prone anxiety
beneath a fleet
of coarse thread sheets.
Only fans speak,
oscillating on an
arrhythmic beat.
What are the limits of your speech?
English, French and Spanish
when haphazardly
conscious.
Noun (Verb + adjective) + predicate
is the constant
variable in
idioms.
It's an order of operations
within phrases
understood amongst
sages.
May 30, 2013
May 30, 2013 at 5:01 AM UTC
Daddy your phone is ringing.
Baby pick up the phone, pick up the call!
What a voice from my baby, straight to my heart.
What a baby mama burglar, straight to my white sheets.
Baby mama what you need, this is my white gown?
Baby mama what you need, I will never go back!
This is a **** informative sign, tell your lover the truth.
Baby mama what you need, I will never go back!
Baby pick up the phone, this phone is vibrating.
Daddy this phone is vibrating, pick up the phone it might fall.
What a baby mama pain, straight to my heart.
What a pain, the government passed the statute on white pieces of sheets.
Baby mama what you need, these are games on my white gown?
Baby mama what you need, I will never go back!
This is a **** stop sign, tell your lover the truth.
Baby mama what you need, I will never go back!
Daddy picks up the call, this phone is constantly blinking.
Baby this phone is ringing, the baby picks up your silent phone call.
What a baby mama blinking call, disturbing my marriage night.
What pain of baby mama’s phone call on your lover’s white sheets.
Baby mama what you need, these are games on my white gown?
Baby mama what you need, I will never go back!
This is a **** caution sign, tell your lover the truth.
Baby mama what you need, I will never go back!
Baby mama, my **** is war-ready continue calling!
Baby mama pick up the Jewelry shop phone call!
What a shame on a baby mama, who used to disturb my **** night!
What a shame on an irresponsible male, while he sleeps on white sheets!
Baby mama what you need, this is my **** white gown?
Baby mama what you need, my Paul will never go back!
This is a **** stop sign, tell your lover the truth.
Baby mama what you need, my son Paul will never go back!
Written By: The Senior Date: undefined
Nov 23, 2020
Nov 23, 2020 at 2:42 AM UTC
To God our strength sing loud, and clear,
Sing loud to God our King,
To Jacobs God, that all may hear
Loud acclamations ring.
Prepare a Hymn, prepare a Song
The Timbrel hither bring
The cheerfull Psaltry bring along
And Harp with pleasant string.
Blow, as is wont, in the new Moon
With Trumpets lofty sound,
Th’appointed time, the day wheron
Our solemn Feast comes round.
This was a Statute giv’n of old
For Israel to observe
A Law of Jacobs God, to hold
From whence they might not swerve.
This he a Testimony ordain’d
In Joseph, not to change,
When as he pass’d through Aegypt land;
The Tongue I heard, was strange.
From burden, and from slavish toyle
I set his shoulder free;
His hands from pots, and mirie soyle
Deliver’d were by me.
When trouble did thee sore assaile,
On me then didst thou call,
And I to free thee did not faile,
And led thee out of thrall.
I answer’d thee in *thunder deep *Be Sether ragnam.
With clouds encompass’d round;
I tri’d thee at the water steep
Of Meriba renown’d.
Hear O my people, heark’n well,
I testifie to thee
Thou antient flock of Israel,
If thou wilt list to mee,
Through out the land of thy abode
No alien God shall be
Nor shalt thou to a forein God
In honour bend thy knee.
I am the Lord thy God which brought
Thee out of Aegypt land
Ask large enough, and I, besought,
Will grant thy full demand.
And yet my people would not hear,
Nor hearken to my voice;
And Israel whom I lov’d so dear
Mislik’d me for his choice.
Then did I leave them to their will
And to their wandring mind;
Their own conceits they follow’d still
Their own devises blind
O that my people would be wise
To serve me all their daies,
And O that Israel would advise
To walk my righteous waies.
Then would I soon bring down their foes
That now so proudly rise,
And turn my hand against all those
That are their enemies.
Who hate the Lord should then be fain
To bow to him and bend,
But they, His should remain,
Their time should have no end.
And he would free them from the shock
With flower of finest wheat,
And satisfie them from the rock
With Honey for their Meat.
1.5k
i woke up this morning
to take a walk on the sun
while the moon was out dancing
in a village of one
had the strangest of feelings
it had all come undone
and me...i was just along for the ride
the fields were all waving
a bright shade of blue
as the women who worked them
wore starlight hairdo's
i blinked once, then twice
well...wouldn't you
as i reached in and scratched the itch of my mind
cows carrying moonflower purses
looking utterly strange
dogs barking out four
on the driving range
shouldn't the cows be a milking
and the dogs scratching mange
as i pulled on the cord that was just out of sight
the dam broke, flooding the valley
with pink lemonade
only the statute of achoo! (bless you)
was all that was saved
they tried to do more
but the train was delayed
there's never been a day like a day tonight
Nov 3, 2013
Nov 3, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Would thee judge me to the end
Should I make ***** my friend?
Wouldst thou rule that all was bad
Should I make laughter read as sad?
Would that thou tax me in thy way
Were I to shun the games thee play?
Wouldst thou beat my aching head
Were I to ********** in bed?
Hast thou ****** me with thy thoughts
Prior to judgement in thy courts?
And wouldst thou slaughter me this morn
Should I refute thy statute born?
Find thee no mercy in thy heart
To gift one gracious thought a start?
Marshalg
Justice Perplexus
3 July 2013
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
Child ****
Should have no
statute of Limitations
You can hunt them down
Long after
It is too late.
Sep 11, 2015
Sep 11, 2015 at 1:24 PM UTC
So, now I have confessed that he is thine,
And I my self am mortgaged to thy will,
Myself I’ll forfeit, so that other mine
Thou wilt restore to be my comfort still.
But thou wilt not, nor he will not be free,
For thou art covetous, and he is kind,
He learned but surety-like to write for me
Under that bond that him as fist doth bind.
The statute of thy beauty thou wilt take,
Thou usurer, that putt’st forth all to use,
And sue a friend, came debtor for my sake;
So him I lose through my unkind abuse.
Him have I lost, thou hast both him and me;
He pays the whole, and yet am I not free.
1.3k
An old, mad, blind, despised, and dying king, –
Princes, the dregs of their dull race, who flow
Through public scorn, – mud from a muddy spring, –
Rulers who neither see, nor feel, nor know,
But leech-like to their fainting country cling,
Till they drop, blind in blood, without a blow, –
A people starved and stabbed in the untilled field, –
An army, which liberticide and prey
Makes as a two-edged sword to all who wield, –
Golden and sanguine laws which tempt and slay;
Religion Christless, Godless – a book sealed;
A Senate, – Time’s worst statute unrepealed, –
Are graves, from which a glorious Phantom may
Burst, to illumine our tempestous day.
Dec 28, 2009
Dec 28, 2009 at 12:52 AM UTC
The best of dying is
nil by mouth
morphine the last delirium then
laid out to rest,
he ain't the big hitter now.
Stella the shirtless got meaner
down by Cirrhosis avenue.
King's for the Christmas duration
profaning in Erse
we all thought he was an Englishman.
The leaking mercury fillings
or Toxoplasmosis Cat dishes
should have made him more paranoiac,
the statute of a Man
unprotected.
Jan 10, 2013
Jan 10, 2013 at 4:01 PM UTC
Martha Maguire's mother
entered her daughter's bedroom
her daughter was asleep
in the bed
Martha what's the statute
of Our Blessed Lord
doing in your bed?
Martha woke up
bleary-eyed
hair matted
what?
she muttered
the statue
what's it doing
in your bed?
Martha looked around
at the Sacred Heart
of Jesus statue
beside her
on her pillow
**** me
how'd that get there?
she muttered
language Martha
in front of Our Lord
sorry Jesus
Martha said
nodding to the statue
and moving away
from Him carefully
so He didn't
fall side wards
into the bed
what's it doing there?
it's the Crucified
I know who it is
I asked you
what it is doing
in your bed?
I got lonely
and had no one
to talk with
Martha said
you can talk with Jesus
without having Him
in your bed beside you
it's not decent
what would the priest
have to say about that
I don't know
her mother said
Martha moved
to the side of the bed
can you go now Ma
I want to wash and dress
for school
you've nothing
I've not seen before Martha
a few things
have developed since
you saw me
in the bathroom last Ma
Martha said
waiting
for her mother to go
if your Da heard
how you speak
he'd slap your backside
so he would
the last time Da
saw me backside
it had talcum powder on it
and a ****** *****
Martha said
her mother
raised her eyebrows
and sighed
and walked out
of the room
and closed the door
sorry about that Lord
she said
to the Crucified's statue
Ma has no sense of privacy
she moved off
the bed carefully
and pulled the sheet
and blanket
over the statue
and patted the head
the head of the statue
peeped over
the blanket at her
won't be long
just going for a wash
and clean and brush
me hair Lord
she said
she gathered up
her towel and flannel
and giving the statue
one last look
she went out
of her bedroom
and walked across
to the bathroom
and closed the door
she removed her nightie
and dropped it
to the floor
and stood there
gazing in the mirror
in her *******
and bra
musing softly
there's no sense
of privacy
with Ma.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 2:06 AM UTC
A man on the cusp of One Hundred
found letters that proved beyond doubt
that Rosa, his bride since his twenties,
in the 40’s had “catted” about.
Some German had tickled her fancy
and perhaps a bit more its believed.
The statute of limitations doesn’t apply
when an Italian husband’s aggrieved.
Did he stop to think of the children?
They’re at such an impressionable age.
They may go and spend
their whole pension on drugs,
join a gang, or go out and get laid.
Antonio’s mad at his Rosa
He’s just about called her a *****
It matters not to him that her transgression
dates back to the second world war.
We don’t know what he read in the letters-
Perhaps his whole life’s been a lie-
but as he is on the cusp of one hundred
why not wait for the children to die?
In Italy, a 99 year old man has divorced his wife aged 96 for a affair she had with a German officer in 1942
He found their letters in a drawer. No he not longer has to wonder why his oldest boy was named " Fritz"
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC
The poem on the Statute of Liberty
The New Colossus
Not like the brazen giant of Greek fame,
With conquering limbs astride from land to land;
Here at our sea-washed, sunset gates shall stand
A mighty woman with a torch, whose flame
Is the imprisoned lightning, and her name
Mother of Exiles. From her beacon-hand
Glows world-wide welcome; her mild eyes command
The air-bridged harbor that twin cities frame.
"Keep ancient lands, your storied pomp!" cries she
With silent lips. "Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"
Emma Lazarus (November 2, 1883)
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 11:25 PM UTC
rejected in life
and so in death
and so in life
I would have shed no tears
had I not loved you still
there is no statute of limitations
on a broken heart
Apr 1, 2015
Apr 1, 2015 at 1:41 PM UTC
The hollow comfort is your ideal state.
When nothing’s lacking or wholly great.
You’re too unhappy to fall behind,
and too content to change.
The small pleasures are the world,
and the societal ‘leisures’ are no longer your mask.
The ecstasy is the excitement. The looming
joy, the ideal and the desired are all it takes to tip you.
It’s a rare and tainted feeling,
where your mind is in the warm clouds, and your feet
are reluctantly rooted to the cold concrete.
It’s easy for the dream to melt into ash and dust,
and once this goes amiss,
you plummet into the gaping abyss,
and the things you cared about before
are already nothing because you’ve tasted much more.
You can’t even see the precipice from amongst the rocks.
A shattered statute shadow. What were you like before?
You can chase it back and do it again.
You know you can climb.
You know it.
Feb 3, 2014
Feb 3, 2014 at 12:24 PM UTC
(Voice of the Swan by Eric Idle from Monty Python.)
Don't you ignore me,
I could break your arm you know.
I could cut you down with a well placed puncture wound.
I've got important friends, oh yes,
I'M protected by royal statute.
Oh, I see, NOW I have your attention.
NOW you're taking notice.
Well, just you listen,
you might get away with your cheek with those common Mallards,
but don't think it will wash with me.
Now, give me some of that there cake
and perhaps I'll leave you be.
Sep 9, 2018
Sep 9, 2018 at 5:34 PM UTC