"stoical" poems
Sometimes he was like f+ck it
just went ahead and stuck em
let em fall where they stood
crack another bottle and brood
hysterically on the ridiculous
he had a meticulous knack for belittling the serious, berating feelings and imposing his will in a furious fashion. He liked knives and passion, and will cash in on your lashings. A vigilante, stealing antes to match the chips. The missing teeth of split lipped grinns bidding his amends to the dense. sent to cleanse, the fences on the perimeter. a distributor of disasters.
contributor to the laughter in the stoical spleens of nerdy teens, always cheering for the away team.
He was the benefactor of traction-less tractors rotting in the mud. He was a slacker, smothering the world in love. He was above all else, on drugs.
Sep 11, 2012
Sep 11, 2012 at 10:58 PM UTC
I looked upon the greats, and found nothing they didnt take from the pre-existing grates, that drained our goals into slates, degraded our souls into fakes, and mistook our traits as hate, before we faded into an abatement for safetly, safely enslaving our notions as nations, from the oceans, they saved me ... made me ... who I am.
But nothing is sacred anymore
Only deplorable horror
To numb the chores
Of that other lord
That the imaginitive ignore
Pretending to abhore
The things they cant feel anymore
But what for
There might be more to a coin flip than explored.
Intent and decent Vs stoical form
Aug 23, 2013
Aug 23, 2013 at 2:08 AM UTC
Specious speculative salacious spectral season
Transmogrify trapezium traverse torsion treason
Erotica errantry erectile endogenic emblazon
Ghastly gnashy grotesque gristly garrison
Larcenous lecherous lascivious latent lesson
Entelechy ethology exsistentialize extant epsilons
Spurious spry squabble subtle specialization
Transient transitive tour de force teleportation
Encephala enunciate endeavor executant emulation
Garish gaudy gambit glitch granulation
Lurid livid liaison limpid laceration
Extravaganza expletives expeditious equilibration emendation
Sly stodgy surreptitious spatiotemporal solicitor
Taciturn tactile transcendent tertiary torpor
Euphoria eminent equivocal exserted emancipator
Garrulous gustatory gung ** gestational gesticulator
Lyricism lilt liberation lambaste levitator
Escutcheon exergonic epaulet exodus extrapolator
Starkness staunch spectacle stolid stultification
Telepathy tantamount tractive tellurian transmutation
Exonerate euthenics exegesis entourage eradication
Groaty gnarly gruesome gristly gastrulation
Licentious lewd lacunar laconic limitation
Extemporaneous exigency embark embargo extradition
Slinky slick sultry stoical snout
Transubstantiate torturous temerarious tumultuous tout
Eucharist extortion enmity epithet eke out
Gross grit groin grove grout
Lentic leister lotic lothario levity lout
Execrating eventuation evocative evitable excerpt bout
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 3:59 PM UTC
Its annoyance
Anointed
In pessimistic clairvoyance
Its the avoidance
Of the simplistic
And stoical
Components
Its motion
Less
Ness
In oceans
Of lip service
Its ***** potions
For the passionate
Its fake ****
And face lifts
Its abortions
In portions
Of subordinates
As gifts
In gifs
Of gorgeous
Ordinance
Distorted
In tortured
Tapping
Of the dead
Its all the fame
In shoving
The pain
Of loving
In the oven
Of stubborn
Mothers
Blubbering
Under the covers
With other men
Its the omens
Of the oh mans
In roman
Misnomers
Of fortunate
Misfortunes
Torn
From time
Its the mine mine mines
Confined
To their own kind
Pre signed
In old blood
Its consignment killers
Its the drugs
Its timeless thrillers
Its the shrugs
Its the thunder
Plundering
Structures
Rattling out
From under the bed
Its all the thoughts
In our heads
Blaring
The booms
Of the tamed
Its the assumed
The restrained
Its this tomb
Of shame
In doing
The same
Old **** again
And again
Its been
Better
Then again
I grin
When
Cold
Its when i should fold
That i embolden
Its all the No's
Its blankets nose
Its the cut blow
And lack of flow
Its fists and elbows
As opposed
To safety locks
Its ******* flu shots
Its everything
That ****** me off
Its the the stupid robots
And the silly riot cops
Fencing in the famished flocks
Its the *****
And the *****
In plastic boxes
Giving rocks
Off
Without us
Its the gold pots
And stacked stocks
Locked
From us
Its the Rocks
Inside my socks
As they knock
The blocks
Of billy bobs
Bobbling
On the dash
Its the harsh
And its the rash
Its inside the last
Bastion
Of dummassez
passing
Through the
Blast radius.
Alas
Its the mass graves
And the paved pools
Of anyone who knew
Anyone who stood
Its all us fools
As cool kids
Knowing
No show biz
In soul ****
Its in knowing this
And ********
And barking
At the moon
Soon
To swoon
None
I am peaking soon
In looming threat
Of lost concepts
Slipping away
Under the sun
Electing to quit
While im ahead
Way back when
It was fun
Way back when
It mattered
Its a gun
Shooting blather
Blathering
As a bladder
Would
Misanthropic
And misunderstood
A changed topic
Knock on wood
Bye is good
Goodbye
Told you
Its implied
In rite
So
Good
night
Until
next
time
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 2:59 AM UTC
Its nefarious arrogance, that's scaring grandparents, but its in the air and I'm airing it, as we are seeing all the signs, but just staring at them.
Somehow there is safety as an arian, where we are safely alien to Americans made in sapient sanitariums, shooting you first for glaring at em.
So what if i'm Dolling up my delirium for a serum to cure them all.
I am awol, from my call to duty, recreating movies, for serial groupies, suiting up to slither a delivery of a soothing sour piece.
I am stalling to clean the secretions from hostel sheets from the screamers being eaten, by Cretans, with beaten dogs at bay, staring blank at the fanfare from a cage.
Im burning white sage, under pages of poetry anointed by a stoical spleen, tuning out the dreams, of lesser beings, until complete.
A zoo within a zoo within a zoo, i barely know you now
Barely know how, to know you as a model citizen with baller trimmins, fixins, and a life with others wives, in the rough diamonds of the bluff, before the door opens just enough, to look through and confirm what you already knew.
Love is the stuff dreams are made of.
And through you..
Im through.
Pleading, to seed the need for repentance and with reduced sentences, bleeding the demands on stances of chance, in costly cants.
I am convulsing in the congruence, in which I am influenced, by my afflictions of depictions in my head
I might be addicted to the dread of previously said decor, in my adorable horror show afloat, deplorably denoting the nopes of logic, and the slippery slopes of khangi, that spring off me when i'm coughing on my green tea.
You are wrong to stop me in my dislogic, dodging the narcotic mocking of toxic strong arming, in proxy alarms, setting barns ablaze.
I praise the poetry pushed on me, dauntingly haunting me with savant like ambiance, from the have nots, having things as far as the eyes can see.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 12:51 AM UTC
***Clear your hazel gaze; you are completely submerged in an underwater paradise, suspended in the motions of the current. No, you're not drowning, I've given you enough endearment & sustenance for you to breathe on your own- even in the abyss of my oceanic heart.
Of course, you always knew you could dear.
So smile & sail along the swaying tides of teal, graze my shipwrecks with your gentle hands & kiss along my roughest of reefs. Find a mermaid with an elfish face, maroon hair & red lips to taste. Feel no limitations of world above the surface, staying in this place with you forever would be oh-so perfect. The albatross of our concrete lives, lived out in cities made of glass and steel, would never be found in a place such as this- we are forbidden to sustain ourselves through more of such unhappiness.
For down here, we simply float on.
We can get high in the waves, and sing all of your songs. For the water lifts all the worries we may have, in times when we are not strong.
You dove into me, simply chipping away at the stoical walls I've fashioned over time. The fortress comparable Alcatraz, I built to keep my demons in and every single soul out. But you, the flighty sea spirit (believe me we are birds of a feather), made your way to my castle among the waves; soaring over all misconceptions & doubts.***
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 12:29 AM UTC
A subcutaneous doubt musters and you itch
The shore line depression is here without hitch
A sea of harps instigating an emotive atrophy
You discharge and you dive with certain alacrity
There is a boat afloat out in the briny of spite
Oar-less and holey amid the bark and the fight
You plunge and you quaff as you leave quiet behind
A clamber and a climb and inside you will find
Ruckus and roar as you rock with each crash
Thunder and hail as the waves tempestuously lash
Gladden with the grim elation preserves you
Mirthful and drugged whilst the wet pours through
To the most aphotic of waters that drags you deep
The boat now just wood unto rocks in a heap
Too eager to leap and now too weak to swim
A stoical sink under madness to dim
The seashore despair was a lie to itself
The still and the shielded brimming with wealth
Never attempt to weather a storm
Of a storm as endless as that of that storm
A wish that you stayed a want that you listened
You’d still be where her green eyes glistened
Where love and the good is now once tendered
Most is best left as how it’s remembered.
Jun 11, 2013
Jun 11, 2013 at 9:02 PM UTC
I feel like there should be a great poem spawning from this blatant attack on my heart
With linguistic tips and turns coinciding with my emotion
But that's just it.
There is none.
You have drained every last ounce of feeling from my body
So, naturally, when you made a big and public spectacle of how you desire her
I stood there stone-faced, frozen in stoical silence
The perfect poker face, you'll never catch my bluff
I saw that glance in my direction and smiled in return
That classic fake smile that never meets my dead eyes like a forged signature on an oath that avers everything's all right
Oct 17, 2014
Oct 17, 2014 at 8:31 PM UTC
I feel fine, now
that stoical ice
grows within me
like a tangled vine
wrapping around
inside, and outside
I'm a laughing smiling
clown upside down
on my house, and
my life, you see
this frown painted
by Courbet, realistic
as Pushkin's finest
piece of poetry.
May 27, 2017
May 27, 2017 at 10:40 PM UTC
To be a lover is to hold the utmost importance, care, and intention when loving someone as you would love yourself
The limits of a lover are held in those moments when love feels like the impossible choice
To be a lover is to take those very impossible choices and make them a moment of grace, courage, and compassion
To be a lover is to be as patient as the slow moving moon, stoical in the night sky holding an intense glow, savoring every moment of anticipation while waiting for the bright sun to return and smile back at him
The limits of a lover are held in those moments when loving yourself is an option, a choice, and an impossible one to
To truly be a lover is to love the impossible and stare it down with the intensity and heat that love brings in its stride
I don't see myself as a lover but one day I would love to be one
Aug 18, 2023
Aug 18, 2023 at 9:26 PM UTC
The genius of a thousand words all combined
through a fateful unity, no true clarity
to touch a stoical soul.
I love it.
The genius of her truly timeless thoughts
like that of a willful dreamer
lived, lasted, now braver.
I found it.
The genius of a playful imagery
bound to reconsider
glee or tragedy.
It is it.
The genius of a hopeful recovery
from the grimmest sorcery
with pure beauty, oddity
For anyone's anatomy
finds a way to thee
Oh, powerful,
Real genius,
Poetry!
Jul 5, 2013
Jul 5, 2013 at 6:00 AM UTC
Stoical heart yet the urge to cry
Unable to shead a tear,
'Cause the biggest fear to open up and try
Made me to drown myself in my own state of anxiety.
Did the broken soul find a hug?
Not a single person cared to bug.
I am not what has happened to me
Bounded by fate or dejection
Choices and rejection
Part and parcel of life.
I am what I chose to be.
I'll break and I'll fall
I'll rise and fly
Till I find my wings soared high.
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
When poetry describes the historical,
One refrains from becoming hysterical.
However by use of the judicial rhetorical
A Poet makes full use of the allegorical!
So when writing poetry I remain stoical,
That though some may think me radical,
Employing words they considered lyrical,
I try never to appear, irrational or critical.
To write about the mystical and cryptical,
Using strict rhythm? Can be diabolical!
As for themes regarded purely mythical,
I shy from words too pictorial or technical.
My approach to topics humourously comical,
Is to compose lines thoughtfully satirical.
In turn this allows me to remain sceptical,
Whilst appearing not too fanatical or cynical!
So, if with words I am reckoned economical?
I hope my rational thoughts are not illogical,
But in using descriptive words, is it ethical
To ensure Poems not be too whimsical?
Now, without appearing to be pontifical,
Though I'm always careful to be veridical,
I'm allowed at times, to wax philosophical,
As I attempt to depict matters paradoxical.
Doubtless some will find my words inimical:
Fanatically methodical and chronological?
But in attempting the facetious or ironical,
I'll avoid the pitfalls of being too graphical.
Should poetry be left to the technological?
One might find it becomes too puritanical.
And suggest the Poet was unduly practical!
Such is the way of the biased hypocritical!
If my poetic lines appear to be egotistical?
Then readers must understand, that's logical.
But please I beg of you, never be heretical,
When lines concern the canonical or political.
Will a Poet's thoughts be considered farcical,
If a reader is left bemused and quizzical?
Or should he stick to the unequivocally canonical?
Personally, I'm happy if my poems are grammatical!
So I'll conclude thinking poetry may be symbolical,
And my many rhymes, in quantities numerical,
May not satisfy the purist nor the global ecumenical,
But they deal with topics that are never hypothetical!
Rhymer. July 10th, 2018.
(Your turn Jim!)
Jul 10, 2018
Jul 10, 2018 at 4:40 PM UTC
They haven’t smiled properly since then
I long to look into your dark eyes again
To see what you hid in your soul from words
To take me with them on a journey to your world
They seem to remind me that you’re human too
That feeling unproductive isn’t something new
They vent saying you’re going through a hard situation
Where loneliness is causing a great deal in your devastation
It’s challenging you to try and live without it
To bring over new friends who truly love you and admit
It’s creating in your mind the illusion that no one wants you
And being stoical would be the only way through
So I ask you when it speaks in your head, radiating a sound
Telling you to disappear, say “ No I want to be found.”
Jun 7, 2021
Jun 7, 2021 at 2:22 PM UTC
It's that time of the year where "a prophet isn't welcome in his own land".
Why do we feel alienated in the midst of known faces yet carve out a niche for ourselves in a stranger's land?
Why do the urge to run away always cross our mind as we tend to grow older, leaving all behind?
Was it the scar that hasn't healed yet or the demon to face as soon as you enter the hell.
It's that time of the year again to wear a mask, to prepare onself; face the wrath with a stoical heart, only to die everyday in a confined ivory tower.
The Mask we wear,
The Pain we bear,
Surviving everyday in a world where no one hardly cares.
#RitzWrites ♕
Dec 20, 2019
Dec 20, 2019 at 1:33 PM UTC
I don't want to blot you,not with my inconsquentiality,
nor do I want to etch you with my feelings,
you bore my feelings and strength unobtrusively,
perhaps with a tad resistance of gravity.
people take advantage of your limpidity
and write trivia on you as I do,
you enlightened me to the point of
absurdity and nothingness.
I thank for that,knowing that even
gratitude does make you indifferent.
you are only few of those who doesn't have
any intentions in the chores they perform.
I write on you,wipe you,tear you,distort you,
but you bear all with love and no resistance,
for that you have become irresistible.
I exude my happiness,exasperation yet
you are stoical,I imbibe that nonchalance.
you are slim yet you are eternally exporable.
you dwell in myriad artists yet
you are indifferent to anyone.
I perceive how indiscriminate you are and
how you are not prejudice.
you are the cluster of atoms that is closer to my heart,
perhaps the confluence of descendant atoms.
who says atom has no feelings I see here,
the way you embrace me
when my tears shed on you,
and when you endure it no more,
you just wrinkle yourself by absorbing me,
disintegrating yourself...................
ALIGHT YOUR WAY TO THE ETERNITY,
FOR THIS IS NOT YOUR ABODE....NOR MINE....
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 9:49 AM UTC
Most of our childhood memories were not printed on photos but in certain biscuits, comic books, sight of the playground where the noises still echoes in our ears, the hugs of our friends, the touch of our mother's care and concern when sickness troubled.
And slowly, we drifted away from the state of innocence with a stoical heart to face the music.
Apr 2, 2019
Apr 2, 2019 at 11:52 AM UTC
Critical mass approaching in stoical exploding of feelings peeling off with the old flesh.
I'll cry myself to sleep if not just to keep the memory alive, thriving in the spite of a dual life fighting itself for its rites to righteousness, where the opposition is also right, in purifying infighting, for a light so bright, that my fragile eyes shall burn in its embrace, a sound of truth so profound, that my ears numb in the pound of drums as i look on blindly and deaf, pointing at the cliffs you want so much.
Mar 11, 2013
Mar 11, 2013 at 3:05 PM UTC
Inflatable bride march,
Plastic enormous,
Stoical hens,
Mystery "pleasures".
Aug 2, 2017
Aug 2, 2017 at 10:36 AM UTC
Friendzone"
A very perplexed area,
A prison for plitonic love
Where you long for chance to
Escape.
A tighten belt for one's wishes,
A room of much pretending ,
A stoical relationship for two
In search for the best way to
Offer the on heart matters.
A zone of jealousy and resentment,
Chewing over both kind of outcomes,
A loose or win region,
A zone to be eluded by the witty ones only.
Jul 24, 2018
Jul 24, 2018 at 6:11 AM UTC
A tribute to my favourite vampire duo of all times, Edward Cullen and Isabella Swan.
With a heart soft as the moon
With a light breath on fire
I fly soundly across the sky;
I leap from time to space.
In the weight of the morning;
At the longing time of nights
I hear murmurs in the distant;
Hoards of sirens, churning deaths.
I jump about all the dark trees;
Searching for the blood in thee
When thou may perch ‘cross the river
Damp hair glossing thy neat forehead.
When thou read alone, and just
Recite lines of dried sarcasm
Pondering in tears, all over again
Until nights drain away in pain.
When thou stand alone, and hear
My cold footsteps are sealed close
To lie about, and drink from thee
Feeling triumphant, breaking free.
I hunt, I tear every safe flesh
Thy stoical screams sound fresh;
I paint rude love, dread and sweet pains
All wild in thy wavering voice.
The stutter, the wail be gone
All that be left is death alone
Adrift; devoid of branched lives
Reeking of dust and sand and wrath.
The veins, the fleeting beat is torn
All consumed by the whirring nights;
A new vampire hath just been born
A birth of the devil, the dark skies.
I turn to thee, soaked in temper--
Those angelic eyes unborn wonder;
Thou kiss me in a mythical embrace
With a heat only I can see.
I bathe in thee, drowned in red light
Feasting on love on a summer’s night
Thy Grecian soul lain quiet and sweet,
A rose of lavished, pleased chasteness.
I am burnt in thee, drawn to the moors
Thou, drifting to me lyrical months
So as to spend times in utter youth
and feel hours with a fluent grace.
I am born to thee, to my heart
The earths, grounds that are now ours
To spend paces at wanted hours
To be a young vampire again.
I am bound to thee, to define me
That I might love ardently;
To live with thee by my side;
To turn days into a cold night.
I am true to thee, to be mine
That I cherish love and lyrics;
To be more, to have enough--
To replace all cries with love.
Aug 12, 2017
Aug 12, 2017 at 3:33 AM UTC
spinning,
out of control,
angry tornado lost amongst
still and silent winds; settled mockery,
harmony hidden by stoical acceptance,
lost cumulus trash inner peace,
fly by imbalance,
lashing,
hating,
out is infliction,
pressure above and beneath,
douse moist anguish sideways,
structural masses full and foolish,
crash lines into empty space,
hellbent to solace,
dying
Oct 5, 2016
Oct 5, 2016 at 6:43 PM UTC
Overwhelmed with guilt, how can the thoughts be spoken and understood when gamut of emotion is playing over your head?
How could you fall asleep when there are uncertainty with every storm to face and void to fill?
Why are you shutting your eyes in anguish and lament in your sleep? Why do anger on the nerve will never settle down at ease?
Did you take a moment to walk in someone else's shoe?
Did you think twice before the words blatantly ended up hurting someone's pride?
Perhaps, we are rotten from inside with no room for anyone.
The house will remain a facade,the kids will value gadgets over bonds. Perhaps you're just a loving dead,
waiting for the reaper to steal your soul. Perhaps, you could have been a better human; a better father, a better brother, a better love.
With all the sorrows and stoical face, wait for your departure old man! Will meet you when the world ends, on the other side.
Sep 2, 2019
Sep 2, 2019 at 4:01 PM UTC
The Mighty Lion
The Mighty Lion, standing proud.
All things beneath him; nothing as loud,
As the roar of this beast, in the middle of the night.
There is no other creature for him to fear
And he has wisdom behind those amber eyes.
So stoical, he stands there;
As he is observing his plain.
All others are running around so quickly,
Whilst he remains unruffled,
With his courageous heart,
Behind his mighty mane.
No challenger approaching; no chance of defeat.
The Mighty Lion stands proudly,
As he rules over all that which he can see.
From the birds in the sky,
Down to the insects beneath his feet.
The Mighty Lion rules with razor-sharp claws
And he can end any fight by simply showing his teeth.
His counsel is sought, to settle neighbourhood disputes.
His decision is final; his words speak only truth.
His eyes can see through liars, as he gains knowledge from his Pride.
He stands there, remarkable, in his domain
And his view is always right.
He knows all of the stories that spread around the group.
He has an army of animals on his side.
They are under his leadership.
They are his motley crew.
The Mighty Lion stands apart,
For he is truly their King.
He has earned his place at the Head of the Pride,
But still, he walks alongside all others
And he fears nothing.
(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 4:51 AM UTC