"submissively" poems
Glance at the bullied survivor with no hair left at all,
Look twice and you'll notice
She's still standing tall.
Watch the former gang leader, walking submissively,
Look twice and see the trail of tears,
As he searches for the winding road to recovery.
Observe the old man scrawl a name in the snow,
Look twice and see a father,
Mourning his murdered daughter buried down below.
Admire the woman you love for sure,
Look twice and realize that,
Due to her past abuse, she's still insecure.
Witness the beating of a man done in vain,
Beneath his unruly hair and dark eyes, look twice-
Don't you see pain?
I recognized the quiet woman, generous to the core.
I looked twice and saw my mother,
Still tortured by memories of the Vietnam War.
Dismiss the endless news reports of crime and abuse,
Look twice and understand,
Violence starts with the power to choose.
Awaken and see the world through new eyes,
Look twice at society and find out,
You've been telling yourself lies.
See the disabled, the victims, those who made the wrong choices,
Look twice and listen,
Now can you hear their agonized voices?
I realized the world was never the cordial society I'd dreamt it to be.
I looked twice and found out,
Stopping violence begins with me.
Sep 28, 2013
Sep 28, 2013 at 9:44 AM UTC
And I feel like a shadow following submissively a long.
Unnoticed.
I make no sound, only repeating the motions I have been equipped to follow.
My manual, just empty pages because I'm not even my own person or am I?
I have no story to tell, just watching, waiting for you to write so I can follow suit.
And I follow you, everywhere you go, but every time it gets a little dark in this room I disappear.
Because you no longer need me, you no longer want me.
You just want sleep.
So I leave you to dream those dreams and I simply blend into the background.
You never notice when I'm gone and hardly at all when I'm there.
It hurts my feeling, or are these feelings yours?
The only difference is you shine bright and I don't shine at all.
You lead I follow.
And even if I wanted to lead I’d always end up falling behind again because I'm just a shadow, and shadows don't get to lead.
Am I your shadow?
Because I don't want to be...
Feb 25, 2017
Feb 25, 2017 at 1:07 AM UTC
His hands ring in the upper classes.
There, in the morning light, his will
Is forged, bent, as truth, on ruling
This place, underhand, underfoot.
With shuttered ears divining his voice
The dim pupils see only what is said.
The top hand schools, topples all words
Ringing hands sing the song of fools.
How Headmaster trains on the heel,
A dagger strikes, the paper cuts
Exalted, his close minded hands,
See a Czar in the stony swagger,
And the student body, submissively lies
With his feet. Outside the college
The headmaster is heard. Grossly,
He is their dream and only shepherd.
May 31, 2012
May 31, 2012 at 9:48 PM UTC
His hands ring in the upper classes.
There, in the morning light, his will
Is forged, bent, as truth, on ruling
This place, underhand, underfoot.
With shuttered ears divining his voice
The dim pupils see only what is said.
The top hand schools, topples all words
Ringing hands sing the song of fools.
How Headmaster trains on the heel,
A dagger strikes, the paper cuts
Exalted, his close minded hands,
See a Czar in the stony swagger,
And the student body, submissively lies
With his feet. Outside the college
The headmaster is heard. Grossly,
He is their dream and only shepherd.
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 8:18 PM UTC
His hands ring in the upper classes.
There, in the morning light, his will
Is forged, bent, as truth, on ruling
This place, underhand, underfoot.
With shuttered ears divining his voice
The dim pupils see only what is said.
The top hand schools, topples all words
Ringing hands sing the song of fools.
How Headmaster trains on the heel,
A dagger strikes, the paper cuts
Exalted, his close minded hands,
See a Czar in the stony swagger,
And the student body, submissively lies
With his feet. Outside the college
The headmaster is heard. Grossly,
He is their dream and only shepherd.
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 10:44 AM UTC
His hands ring in the upper classes.
There, in the morning light, his will
Is forged, bent, as truth, on ruling
This place, underhand, underfoot.
With shuttered ears divining his voice
The dim pupils see only what is said.
The top hand schools, topples all words
Ringing hands sing the song of fools.
How Headmaster trains on the heel,
A dagger strikes, the paper cuts
Exalted, his close minded hands,
See a Czar in the stony swagger,
And the student body, submissively lies
With his feet. Outside the college
The headmaster is heard. Grossly,
He is their dream and only shepherd.
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 1:50 PM UTC
.
*He lays in peaceful repose upon a sheet of satin,
she moves up to his body and curls into him,
placing her head upon his unmoving chest,
unconditional grief shown in mute sadness.
She recalls his voice filled with love and affection,
his familiar scent now gone, cold and musty,
as deaths sweet perfume hangs heavy
like a drape of choking intoxicant trance.
Moments stretch blandly into minutes of ache,
the minutes career into hours of silent vigil.
And with her head upon his unmoving chest
she exhales and whimpers her final sigh,
a last breath and she submissively slips away.
Hoping, perchance, once more to hear
her masters voice.*
© Pagan Paul (25/11/17)
Nov 25, 2017
Nov 25, 2017 at 3:26 PM UTC
His hands ring in the upper classes.
There, in the morning light, his will
Is forged, bent, as truth, on ruling
This place, underhand, underfoot.
With shuttered ears divining his voice
The dim pupils see only what is said.
The top hand schools, topples all words
Ringing hands sing the song of fools.
How Headmaster trains on the heel,
A dagger strikes, the paper cuts
Exalted, his close minded hands,
See a Czar in the stony swagger,
And the student body, submissively lies
With his feet. Outside the college
The headmaster is heard. Grossly,
He is their dream and only shepherd.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
I'll forgive you at the drop of a coin
at a slight change of the weather
I will always easily forgive you
because I easily love you
because I still can't believe how you
need me,
even a fraction of how much
I need you
and if one day I didn't forgive
I could no longer live
because I wouldn't
couldn't
wake up without you
Sep 23, 2012
Sep 23, 2012 at 2:40 PM UTC
Her supple and shapely silhouette rests submissively
as the luster upon the soft satin sheets arouses
sensual images of salaciousness beneath the sheen surface
My empty yet enduring eyes slowly engage the darkness
eager to embark upon the elusive lines energizing the elation
as a sojourning moon entices her to endear
Her excelling exuberance... exploited on exhalation
exposing her explicitly; exemplifying the excerpt
of an exonerated experience as the moonlight expires
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 2:33 AM UTC
If I swore to tell you
(wild eyed and breathless)
of what lies
inside my pandora's box
the blue velvet decaying
under my flesh
the whispers in my head
like supple breeze
through follow oaks
(eerily adrift)
would you still dare hold me
at the dusty ledge
of this 85-storey high building
(my crumbling paper body)
as the concrete cracks
submissively
and the walls fall apart
instinctively
because
i would give up
the last of my flicker
to light
your final cigarette
and make
your lonely bed warm
If i held your echoing heart
in my hands (with frantic devotion)
as it throbs rhythmically
in these fire brick palms
propagating at a frequency
of long found anxiety
a dim soul
trapped
in an antique olive wood clock
(tick tock tick)
would you dare still trust me
to dance
with those charred demons
(your most profound secrets)
the ones sworn to be
memories of disgust
the bad taste
at the back end
of your tongue
buried deeper in the Earth
for Hell to bare and hoard
because
i trust you
to embrace
the flaws we share
and
tears we didnt
(but most of all)
the discovery of our story
rapidly unfolding in this unashamed
polluted atmosphere
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
His hands ring in the upper classes.
There, in the morning light, his will
Is forged, bent, as truth, on ruling
This place, underhand, underfoot.
With shuttered ears divining his voice
The dim pupils see only what is said.
The top hand schools, topples all words
Ringing hands sing the song of fools.
How Headmaster trains on the heel,
A dagger strikes, the paper cuts
Exalted, his close minded hands,
See a Czar in the stony swagger,
And the student body, submissively lies
With his feet. Outside the college
The headmaster is heard. Grossly,
He is their dream and only shepherd.
Mar 11, 2015
Mar 11, 2015 at 1:15 PM UTC
Found this older man
Sleeping in my bed…
I threw him out
And my day began.
He was pleased, I tied
His shoes: a small comfort.
He walked submissively,
Warmly greeting
His newfound life.
Oct 21, 2016
Oct 21, 2016 at 11:24 PM UTC
Once, I told him that I was not hysterical and he could call me
he answered what's up kid as if his voice had dropped, but it
hadn't. I replied submissively and he told me that it would not
work even though I did not truly want it to in the first place. It
was so silent on the other end I could hear his car running. Here
to stop on the hill to talk, the cul-de-sac with no cars where I once
sat between his legs and did unspeakable things on the porch of
someone's summer house. He wasn't sorry even though he said
it twice, I made sure to count. I could probably account for all his
apologies on one hand, the entirety of our two year relationship
was one. They say you lose them the way you gain them, so I
must have fought too hard both ways coming. He said goodbye
twice and meant it, where my mom found me curled up on the
swing by our old house. Drenched in sweat, it must of been 80
outside, I smelled like paint, we were redoing my room. Summer
is so hard now, Maroon 5 on a Chelan boat. The memories are messy.
What was that, three years ago, now? I am still startled by your name
in my phone, by the notes I still find in boxes. I've kissed a few since you
anyway, but I still remember the way your neck felt.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 10:00 PM UTC
do the bad days outweigh the good
when you speak into the corner of my collarbone?
"sometimes it hurts to be this damaged."
could i whisk you up in the Kwanzan cherry blooms
though your body still feels imbued with winter?
"i've never met someone so afraid to be open."
must i crave the insatiable taste of salt,
gravelly crumbles of your encumbrance?
"i love this moment, with you and me, right here."
(in the morning, i am still syrupy stuck
and the sequestering sun washes me off.
clean from the ***** taste
that slipped off my sordid soliloquies
into submissively diffident lobes.
emotional adiposity
i'd love to turn myself off
whenever you're near)
May 1, 2013
May 1, 2013 at 9:32 PM UTC
Day cools into evening.
Its long tendrils wrap into shadow
as Day lets go its hold,
submissively.
Withdraws its heat--
Moon awaits her journey yet.
And in this in-between time,
this time I love best,
with its sense of sinking down
toward ground,
of gradual slowing,
I wrap up the remains of my day
and turn on my favorite reading light,
pull open my notebook
and let pencil fly as it must--
until soul has returned to body
and the moon rises.
Feb 27, 2012
Feb 27, 2012 at 10:07 PM UTC
Jude's rant…. Why sitcoms have ruined our lives.
I am really expletive mad at the networks
all they dish out night after night
is ****** sitcoms that stink worse
than a blocked toilet in an Irish bar
on a Sunday morning.
Have you seen what it takes
to make a twelve season hit sitcom.?
I have spent five minutes writing one.
here it is.
it's called
My husband's a total ******
Characters
Soulful Simon the husband and father.
he is a cat whipped half excuse of a man
whose job it is to always be ******** up
and to submissively take perma **** from his
****** preachy wife.
Donna
His overbearing wife
who makes a full time career position
staying at home doing absolutely nothing.
Except over managing her two bratty kids
and think up reasons
to cut down on soulful Simon's
meagre *** diet
which consist of
Saturday night mercy ***
Donna is also the disciplinarian handing out
punishments to the bratty kids.
like no iPad for twenty minutes
for calling soulful Simon a worthless ****
This is the main lesson of the show
but I find it a confusing message
Of
if you tell the ****** truth
you lose your iPad for twenty minutes.
Important character traits in show.
father
A total buffoon and useless idiot
that has no say or power in the house.
in days of yore he would wear Harlequin
suit and have a bell on his cap.
Mother
a nasty passive aggressive *****
who controls most the money
and all the ***
She must be smart and always right.
She was only wrong once
that was when she was right
and thought she was wrong.
Children
must act like know it all adults
god knows no one else does.
important notes
the laugh machine
must be packed with
Energizer batteries.
if they fail
then the viewers at home
will find out
no one else is laughing either.
Authors note
This carefully scripted
hit plot for sitcom
copyrighted by Jude Kyrie.
I do not want
to see this on the network
without my
One million Dollar
per episode stipend.
cc my lawyers
Dewey Screwem and Howe
Mar 24, 2016
Mar 24, 2016 at 2:53 PM UTC
I'm writing down the words
I'm too afraid to say
I need to get them my off my chest
I can't live another day
Pursuing you submissively
Romancing you with poetry
It's killing me, you're killing me
But this you won't be like the rest you see
I'm tired of always rushing it
It comes on fast & I run with it
But it doesn't last & i'm done with it
I've learned from my past
I'm not wasting this
But I still should tell you how I feel
I think we might have a chance at something real
My spirit feels ignited
I'm following your lead
Adventures could await us
If we both can take the leap
May 23, 2016
May 23, 2016 at 12:52 PM UTC
False truths
True lies and bittersweets
These you offer my only, my complete
They're shoved as stones down my throat
I swallow them whole as I do it all
for you as they keep coming i
Just sit submissively silently as you
plough my skin and sow more corruption
More pain more lies
Jan 4, 2015
Jan 4, 2015 at 10:20 AM UTC
Listen dear
listen to my enchanting encounters
like gales that storm the valleys
was my youth
flash floods,high tides
soaring soaring to unseen heights
plunging deep into fathomless vortex
lascivious amorous
plunderer
Irrespective of seasons i revelled
in mirth
Oh the sweet scented honey drops
of the umpteen flowers...
love was lavish so was lust
time hugged me like a voluptious enchantress.
Times change ........
Oh my dearest love who alights
submissively, silently on my solitudes
Tell me tell me
who you are
and it moves me when you say
"I am the one whom you lost in your entire life!"
Mar 11, 2014
Mar 11, 2014 at 9:53 AM UTC
She warned me, of "is" becoming "was"
I thought, just enjoy this "is" and let it slowly become "was"
Now I'm lost, for the cause of "is" becoming "was" was to be for a better cause
Or so I thought
It happened, I knew it wasn't going to be the best experience
Buh me and bro always said to ourselves, it will become a memory
I tried as much as possible to be the ideal meaning of obedience
Buh with them, you still have to act careful carefully
And so we were told, I should be weary for I don't know what truth people will unfold
Old, bewildered by the statement behold, were the people who were making my current "is" cold
She oughta know, that her seedling isn't one to go with the flow
And now, the bow, the phone, the words, the arrow
With all I was told, I couldn't have been trusted enough that there's a reason I'm bold
My bold, mistaken for disrespect to my older foes
I wasn't expecting someone so close to misinterpret my bold
Buh a little distance, messed us up way too low
Sigh, what more could she have said
Manipulative was all she said buh all the abusive words combined couldn't have meant what she meant
They can't handle someone who wouldn't be submissively controlled because I'm a product of their rent
I'm hurt, she's hurt, buh this time, I deserve some respect
With all you told me, you really think I'll go out with just anyone
From everyone to anyone, I made you understand this dude is still a number one
It's fine if I'm to be sealed in like they wish, I just need one good reason why you and them do what you did
Bet you didn't know this side of me still exists
The one that takes up a pen and paper when he's truly sick of how different things persists
I thought it died, cos we've never made it to this level
I just realized the closest people are the ones that bring out my rhythmic rebel
Oct 17, 2024
Oct 17, 2024 at 2:25 PM UTC
City lines illuminated by animated street lights reflect off of your skin.
Images of infant filled houses
and hospitals with new born fetal babies, juxtaposed fatal mothers,
emit off your body
in black and white stop motion,
slicked by this canvas of fluid blanket
And you, victim of lifelessness
lie cold and waterlogged
inhaling liquid, the new source of oxygen,
your eyes fogged and inverted submissively.
What was sung to sleep by hymnal chants
of incredulous mourning moans now lies
Dead
on a forgetful Sunday Evening.
The street lights give no respect
as they ponderously encroach,
Leaning in to hear your fleeting birdsong.
These lamp poles, tender and limber,
flex to form prayer circles, forgetting their rightful footings.
And with each inch bound tighter,
the circle emulates a power emitted through photonic light beams
bending irresponsibly to get closer to truth.
They then see it, and so does woman
Stopping by this wooded mausoleum.
She stands with inquisitive mittens, palms open and receiving.
Flecks of skin lift off your sinking vessel as what was you leaves into better places.
They drift, forming a clouded colony
crawling up webbing left to lead them correctly.
Each inch spreads more purity,
each meter strengthens recent weaknesses.
Woman notices a cloud gather above you,
and each particle refracts the whole galaxy with increasing detail and accuracy.
As your body turns to skeletal structure
you seep faster into the silt-heavy waters below,
your bones creating playgrounds and Eiffel Towers, hospital white in hue,
so clean it hurts.
The cloud moistens with rain,
it becomes heavy and starts to drift,
rocking,
in futile attempt to birth again.
And each fleck takes woman.
She spreads eagle and takes flight.
Toes lift individually and with lessened pressure,
she stretches each appendage as your flesh meshes with woman’s in unconventional ways,
every crevice and crack blanketed by you, what was.
The street lights pulsate as they observe in amazement
your transformation.
All is forgiven while the lamps induct you into purity
and absolve woman for witnessing this connection to God.
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 11:16 PM UTC