"sully" poems
Sully suffers from a stutter,
simple syllables will clutter,
stalling speeches up on beaches,
like a sunken sailboat rudder.
Sully strains to say his phrases,
sickened by the sounds he raises,
strings of thoughts come out in knots,
he solves his sentences like mazes.
At night, he writes his thoughts instead
and sighs as they steadily rush from his head.
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:24 PM UTC
Where are the role models?
Who do I admire?
The *** and drug obsessed rapper?
The naked model in the magazine?
Who?
Where is the father figure in that single mother home?
Or the concerned and responsible mother of two?
Where is the morals in society?
Tell me
Where can I find them?
Everyone seems absorbed by popularity
Acceptance
Is this the reason we expose our bodies?
Disregard our morals?
Sully our name?
Where are the role models?
The positive influence?
The man holding the door for the young lady?
The mother struggling to put her children through college?
I'm in despair
Will I succumb to the warped society?
Will I trade my personal respect,
for a robe knitted of shameful glory?
I'm afraid
Where did all the good people go?
Oct 23, 2014
Oct 23, 2014 at 6:01 PM UTC
The Destroyer of the division machine1
Had first to run on the Way of the Cross
To have souls over the long lived ruin.
Robben, Pollsmoor and Victor2 caused no loss
In the Staff Heritage of the Thembu3
Rulers, forever loved by their people,
From whom was learnt right fight ain’t to taboo.
Good farmers’ teeth run right through the apple;
Likely after the Hard Walk to Freedom4
The Son of Gadla and Nosekeni5,
When his Soul flies up to the Lord’s Kingdom,
Glass will keep his body, and not any
Stain will sully the Star of the Nation
Whose Light will shine for each generation.
1. The division machine: The Apartheid.
2. Robben, Pollsmoor and Victor: During twenty seven years Mandela was successively jailed at Robben Island, Pollsmoor and Victor Verster prisons.
3. Thembu: The tribe over which ruled Mandela’s ancestors.
4. Hard Walk to Freedom: In September 1953, Andrew Kunene, a co-militant of his, read out Mandela's "No Easy Walk to Freedom" speech at a Transvaal ANC meeting; the title was taken from a quote by Indian independence leader Jawaharlal Nehru, a seminal influence on Mandela's thought. The speech laid out a contingency plan for a scenario in which the ANC was banned.
5. Gadla (Henry Mphakanyiswa): Mandela’s father; Nosekeni ***** His mother.
Boniface
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 8:33 AM UTC
Where as one told me a Girl so Beloved
Whose White Soldiers fought hard to overtake
But Bless her River-Red Defense involved
Un-sully her Soft-Flaming Mind does make
Grateful for the Favour you volunteer
Though Shy, Cross-Country we can still befriend
Souls like you, Countenance; And in Best Cheer
The Angel whose Healing Hands recommend
May I know your Name? So that I Sponsor
At least in Spirit Common Bonds reveal
Hands clasped, and pray for Hope in your Honour
Dear Sweet Maple from Mountie's Duty - HEAL!
I'll let you Rest now. And Mum take over
To Pepper your Dreams on Light's recover.
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 8:30 PM UTC
All are limitory, but each has her own
nuance of damage. The elite can dress and decent themselves,
are ambulant with a single stick, adroit
to read a book all through, or play the slow movements of
easy sonatas. (Yet, perhaps their very
carnal freedom is their spirit's bane: intelligent
of what has happened and why, they are obnoxious
to a glum beyond tears.) Then come those on wheels, the average
majority, who endure T.V. and, led by
lenient therapists, do community-singing, then
the loners, muttering in Limbo, and last
the terminally incompetent, as improvident,
unspeakable, impeccable as the plants
they parody. (Plants may sweat profusely but never
sully themselves.) One tie, though, unites them: all
appeared when the world, though much was awry there, was more
spacious, more comely to look at, it's Old Ones
with an audience and secular station. Then a child,
in dismay with Mamma, could refuge with Gran
to be revalued and told a story. As of now,
we all know what to expect, but their generation
is the first to fade like this, not at home but assigned
to a numbered frequent ward, stowed out of conscience
as unpopular luggage.
As I ride the subway
to spend half-an-hour with one, I revisage
who she was in the pomp and sumpture of her hey-day,
when week-end visits were a presumptive joy,
not a good work. Am I cold to wish for a speedy
painless dormition, pray, as I know she prays,
that God or Nature will abrupt her earthly function?
3.7k
The fasces in my heart calls for those,
who would poison the earth beneath me,
who would sully our blood and the blood ,
that God himself did give
who would call off the hunt,
that my father and fathers before me partook,
who would make that grand wolf a sheep,
who would try and satiate what we know is true,
who would try to commit nature's crime,
who would make things inequal, equal.
To those who have been called, we come for you.
Jan 14, 2015
Jan 14, 2015 at 3:40 PM UTC
So what of love,
Hearts burning fire,
Impaled on the horns of pain and desire,
A villain made true; honest man to a liar
In wretched quest for an abstract that’s higher
And if, perchance, they should vanquish their need,
Will he or she to true love concede
Or never quite sure of heart’s fine intention
Smother such dreams with stifling convention
Then, dastardly torn, twixt right and true
Sully their soul with transitory muse
In fear of the power that thunders within
And a promise once made, to never give in
For the Poet’s dilemma in this miraculous life
Is that when blessed with love, ‘tis oft coupled with strife.
Sep 16, 2011
Sep 16, 2011 at 5:06 PM UTC
Treacherously torrid torrential tempestuous
The warrior on the mountain confessed to us
Sordid sully suborn salacious
Only the worst will ever keep pace with us
In extremis extremity exigence exodus
Is the answer clear to all of us
Intuitional intrepid impetus intrigue
Spontaneity's tortoise trauma fatigue
Heuristic horizon hornswoggle huckster
Or just another cauldron muck stir
Mystical magical manumission mandate
That only the good would ever relate date
Fornicating fecund finite's fate
I can only hope it will be I rate
Tirade treatise's transpicuous treachery
Adjunct juxtaposition may get the best of me
Estranged ensemble's ethereal expletive
Won't be contained, like water in a sieve
Wanton wayward warrantee wrangled
And all of that surreal newfangled
Omnipresent omnificent omniscient omnipotence
How I wish I could float its boat sense
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 5:54 AM UTC
Prayer is said to be powerful.
Well this soul begs the Grandest Force in this universe
to place love in this being's life.
A flower of one's own that radiates with one's soul
and reciprocates the actions
to nurture it beyond disbelief.
This spirit is not sully
wondering into such ways is only dangerous.
If this heart has already been dismantled
by the only flower who received the transfusion of one's love
the being cannot take that back.
Reconciliation regarding the breathtaking
and impossible cannot be taken back.
Chunk after chunk...that part of the mechanism is falling to disrepair.
Oct 3, 2011
Oct 3, 2011 at 7:25 PM UTC
I can feel the changes
You are my addiction
I used to think you're a dentist
You give me some kind of filling
I blame the way that we living
That has my feet on the edge
Nicknamed your love Wels Fargo
How I was putting in check
My friends would talk and say you weren't loyal and give it a rest
But you impress me
No need for yelling
You handle the stress
You used to handle a tech
When you were so out of place
Initials double H
So that means double hate
But all the fellas who've seen you
Knows that you keep a reliever
You've seen more L's than the bobcats arena
You keep it incognito
But you're far from a bully
When it comes to ink you're a monster
Mike wazowski and sully
You're a diamond in the rough
You have a special shine
There is no competition
You're the hottest thing out
Them others may claim you
But they know that you're mine
Girl
I'd Jehovah witness for you
I'm out here knocking doors down
Jun 2, 2014
Jun 2, 2014 at 9:20 PM UTC
I have violent thoughts
I hate and hold grudges on you all
For not acknowledging me
And talking to me
Like my talk is cheap
But I can't let you all take control of me
I can only push myself to the brink
I can only break myself under pressure
You are just my psychological limitation
You are my negative motivation
But not why I positively persevere
I will not let you occupy a vacancy in my mind without paying an outrageous lease
I don't want to snap
Because control is the only thing i have this far
And if I do
I will give whoever is there everything
Every sarcastic remark thrown at me
Every unfair criticism
Every smug remark
Everything I didn't want to hear
And everything they didn't deserve
Beat me ****** with sticks and stones
Break every bone
Leave me conscious enough to tell me it's my fault
Then slander what I have left as a human being
What's a word without power
What's an idea without a motive
Watch the steps you tread
The steep path can lead you to what he or she said
While the truth discriminates
And the reality that we all search for doesn't exist
Freedom and unity can't be forced onto the same plane
Those with the power to send their malicious intent
You sully my docile side
So when tears form my rage and release my wrath on a stubborn mule of a man
By nature
I didn't really want to do it
Silently sobbing in the corner shackle as I have given the confession to the act I committed
Emotional distraught
Being taught
To never point the finger
Logically perplexed
Watching
These acts being committed
It angers me
So blame me
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 4:09 PM UTC
One midnight up
The man to be, the troubled boy
woke up feeling sully, undignified
Vexed by an unwavering
Storm in his mind,
Torn, tired and tearful at last
About the facade he portrays
Good actions, he wants shown
But are being overtaken, over-showed
By chagrin from wanton tendencies
Hope he is not giving up
Maybe he'll let go of it all
Take over his life and forget it all
Become an honest man and move on
The troubled boy wants help
Distraught of mind, peace has dwindled from within him
Pulsating reminders of who he wants to be
Try to revert the lost boy back to the right path
But a transition is taking root
Forcing a recognition of accepting to
Live a life only one way, disclosed
Must facades come tumbling down
And hiding faces shown light
Or
Must hiding faces be buried up
And facades become true sights
The troubled boy will decide
Nov 27, 2010
Nov 27, 2010 at 10:48 AM UTC
it was the
summer
of 13
when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave
amped
the tenderloin
slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen
packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers
their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End
getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society
Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....
the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps
America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers
a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed
Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels
washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe
Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters
millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast
Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours
9/8/13
NYC
jbm
Feb 9, 2015
Feb 9, 2015 at 2:50 PM UTC
Sailor come hither and harken our song
and be calm and becalmed on our uncharted sea,
and unhindered by storms that would sully thy sails
and the thunderous waves that would pummel thy decks;
oh sailor come hither and harken our song
and our voices will sing joy to thee
Rejoice and remain in the waters we share
with the planks and the plankton, the rainbow of fishes,
the garments of sailors and whalers with whale tattoos
over their chests and their necks;
oh sailor remain in the waters we share
and our voices will bring joy to thee
Swim deep to the depths of our uncharted ocean
And see the fine wrecks of the ships of thy fathers,
the littered bones strewn from the deck hands in hand-me-downs,
anchor chains rusting and bells of submariners;
oh sailor swim deep to the depths of our ocean
and our voices will give joy to thee
Draw breath from the water to taste the fine fragrance
of wines and of gold and the many fine horses
that sailed from old cities to trade with the new towns
and ventured to hear of our song of their happiness;
oh sailor draw breath from the waters fine fragrance
and our voices will sing oft of thee
Jan 21, 2015
Jan 21, 2015 at 11:43 PM UTC
Oh Santa Muerte clothed in white
Full of purity for those coming to the light
The Lord has sent you
You are holy & true
Santa Muerte, Protector of Purity
Pray for us in darkness turned sully
The Purity we ask for please don’t deny
While here we live until we die.
Amen.
-12/08/2016
(Dumarao)
*Prayers to the 8 Colors of Santa Muerte
Sep 27, 2019
Sep 27, 2019 at 11:24 PM UTC
solicit the galling thoughts
those obscenities rigged gorily within
victim concepts taught distortion forbidden carcass
in the persisting sully of night
padded dreams pace ******* at a fed distance
it's all in sight and held racing back and forth out of reach
some sloven mystery
under a cower of skin
one day free of your agent cover
and you'll stand vacantly able under eye of the morgue creator
mating together life habits gracious goodness gratefully seeded
you could maintain a patient pattern
with practice you could go mainstream
-with practice
Nov 20, 2022
Nov 20, 2022 at 1:50 PM UTC
Sara L Russell
Bright colours in a pool of crystal clarity
reflecting all the spectrum of our days
slip down into a quagmire of nonentity
with nothing left to sully or erase.
This cold disease that strips a man of human soul,
is worst of all the ravages of time;
behold those eyes, devoid of everything you stole,
yet blissfully unknowing of your crime.
This bright man, worn away to barest minimum,
this one-time writer and great raconteur,
this poet - will not travel to Byzantium;
his world is fading to a senseless blur.
Jun 13, 2014
Jun 13, 2014 at 1:16 PM UTC
Do not look at me
with sad eyes
reflecting a life
you choose to hate
Good intentions backed by bad juju
I see it
behind your dead end job
hidden in your lack of hobbies
There in the emptiness in your mind
is the remnants
of the dream you let atrophy
As it got weak
you got stuck in a place
you thought would be another stepping stone
Do not look at me
with eyes shooting bile
behind a smile that breeds contempt
I refuse to be touched
by your silent hope
of my failure
You cannot **** my dreams
just because
you let yours die
Do not look at me
with eyes that plead for me
to carry you along for my ride
It is mine alone
My dream
cannot feed you
I will not lay it at your feet
to sully it's purity
with the soles of the shoes
you use to walk
through your own crap
Do not look at me
with the hope that my dreams
With give their life for yours
"Smile and the world smiles with you"
only works
when hope springs eternal
There is no hope
in that job that grows
while watching your soul die
So I do not smile
as I walk down the street
I look straight ahead
holding fast
to all that makes me whole
And if I do look at you...
I look at you
with kindness
and I am happy for your success
I look at you
with understanding
for we are all going through
the consequences of our choices
I look at you
with hope that you see me
and remember you once had a dream
I look at you
and wish you love and peace
and maybe
Reflected in my eyes
You can see
the best of who you are
Sep 25, 2016
Sep 25, 2016 at 12:42 PM UTC
.
So many ****** birds,
Grey, brown and black,
Suited as they sully in sun,
In feather and windy-speak
And dream, drifting to profit
Points, marring the globe,
They have so many ways
Of singing on their swings
Behind bars, murky birdies,
Gawking in the crowded fields,
Fielding, flighty questions without
Answer, winging all souls to oblivion,
Who fly, flustering, dusting with song
Twisting the air into pure falsehoods,
Curious, grounded pets for kingdoms,
For masters, fly-hoping in their cages.
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 4:27 PM UTC
I watched the swell of my ******* rise and fall with each breath, and I remembered how your eyes traced the same movement.
I absentmindedly ran my fingers along the flare of my hips, and remembered how white your knuckles were as you held on to the same flesh.
I couldn't fathom how you saw my rebirth as a slow death.
I was a woman in your arms, the flushed
state of my skin was the secret to my depths.
The breaths I released were tainted by my strung vocal chords, a hymn of truth.
Each drop of sweat that descended the nape of my neck were pearls of my wisdom.
When my toes curled it was a sign; the alignment of planets.
The goosebumps that rose on my skin were the explosion of supernovas.
The sparkle in my eyes told of humble mischief.
Only what I saw in your eyes was a distortion.
The alarm on your features whispered of disappointment.
Your eyes witnessed filth, but I smelled the scent of gardenias.
Your skin was repelled by disgust, but I tasted sweetness on my lips.
I finally realized it, your mind was woven by our culture of shame.
Subconsciously your thoughts wrapped around sin and the desecration of purity.
I let you inside, cradled your needs and desires.
I basked in the rush and desperation of your movement.
But you saw this ritual as a sacrifice, and you held the knife to split me open on your malicious alter.
Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, but you seemed to have gone blind.
The indulgence of my body and soul was wasted.
It was wasted on you who clung to ignorance,
you who was submerged in the fragility of your ego and superiority.
I would not let you sully me, or the beauty of that moment.
I would hail my strength, and scream out my confidence.
I would relish in my femininity,
for I am a woman and I would never be ashamed.
Jan 22, 2016
Jan 22, 2016 at 1:45 PM UTC
when you walk through your days
in the company of shadows, peace
will settle over you eventually, so
that when the sun returns, revealing
all that you could not see, you will
beg for your eternal night, once again,
wondering how anyone could stand
to see, every day, that which you now
are seeing for the very first time.
those who live in the light are strange
to you, they seem sullen, hateful, and
angry, they look at you with contempt
like old enemies, how rude of them,
you think, that they should turn guests
away like this, how rude of them to
sully our name, this must be effect
of their world’s ugliness, it must stain
them like wine, leaving deep, red marks
that can never come all the way out,
ruining them, forever, no matter what
they do.
and it is with this new perspective
that you return to your world of
dimness, happy to know that light
only begets harshness and despair.
it is with this new perspective that
you will remain in your shadows,
never changing, never wondering,
never worrying, keep it up, I say,
outside your path there is only pain,
and the tragedies of doubt, suffering,
and reality.
Feb 26, 2013
Feb 26, 2013 at 10:50 AM UTC
"You are what you eat"
until one day you don't
and that's what you become
n o t h i n g (beautiful?)
your cognitions like broken clock cogs
s l o w s l o w s l o w (perfect?)
tabula rasa is the body unbefouled by
nourishment (enemy?)
And the walls are washed white
Nature sickly perverts vitality
The cornucopia becomes a conspiracy
To sully your porcelain
e m p t i n e s s (happiness?)
hypoglycemia makes you shake
but not as hard as eating a whole meal
Can one person be so myriad?
This identity could not possibly fit inside a body.
Dreamer. Comedian. Thinker.
Friend. Musician. Writer. Smiler.
Lover. Wisher. Runner. Fighter.
Bulimic.
And there it is: ugliest of all words.
This identity could not possibly fit inside a body,
and you see, it doesn't.
It breaks it.
I don't know how
but
I will win
Apr 29, 2012
Apr 29, 2012 at 3:26 PM UTC
You. You.
Little loud voice.
You keep me up,
All night, with your
Little whispers.
You shift to your side
Little Tectonic shifts,
To confound my sleep,
To sully my slumber,
To drown my dreams,
You keep, you keep,
You keep me up.
You played all night
With your little big band.
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 1:47 AM UTC
Restless
Wounded
Weary
Wild
Working
Waisting
Wasteful
Vile
Hunting
Hurting
Hungry
Guile
Soothing
Smothered
Sinful
Tried
Wouldn't
Willful
Could
Repeat
Shouldn't
Wouldn't
Revel
Met
Wonder
Wander
Meddled
Spawned
Common
Shuttered
Humble
Harmed
Careful
Calculated
Course
Drawing
Waiting
Last
Recourse
Homage
Engorge
Gutteral
Gainful
Grieving
menial
Spew
Dispatched
Dispassionate
Great
Aloof
Merry
Spoof
Wander
Willing
Youth
Cancer
Crevasse
Comfort
Pain
Cuckold
Credit
***
Steward
Swear
Sally
Forth
Slither
Sully
Glum
Aug 11, 2016
Aug 11, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
.
So many ****** birds,
Grey, brown and black,
Suited as they sully in sun,
In feather and windy-speak
And dream, drifting to profit
Points, marring the globe,
They have so many ways
Of singing on their swings
Behind bars, murky birdies,
Gawking in the crowded fields,
Fielding, flighty questions without
Answer, winging all souls to oblivion,
Who fly, flustering, dusting with song
Twisting the air into pure falsehoods,
Curious, grounded pets for kingdoms,
For masters, fly-hoping in their cages.
.
Aug 22, 2021
Aug 22, 2021 at 1:41 PM UTC