"superseded" poems
I tore the fabric of space
Interrupting my affectionate stalking
Spurts of longing, interspersed
with spasms of premature *****
In vain, hankering to attain that next level rush
*Oh you're a ***** girl aren't you*
That's when I was discovered...
Her shrieks royally flushing my cheeks with shock
-Superseded by pallid chagrin
I fumble to bail,
Pants entrenched around my ankles
Premeditative,
Of absent-mind, in haste
Prime directive a method of escape
Evasion failing
Detection:
Imminent
Reflecting a grim lack of circumspection,
accursed **********
Trying to conceal my turgid ********
Her father particularly beyond reason
And not fond of my indecency for his daughter
Proceeds pummeling me to death with my beloved binoculars
Devoid of clairvoyance;
I am coincidentally sent
outward toward oblivion
Bon voyage through the portal
Falling facefirst into an abysmal wormhole
Its then I voyaged backward through time
To the moment of Creation
And witnessed the universe
**** itself from naught to existence
Spewing forth such cataclysmic splendor
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 10:48 PM UTC
i was there with the locked up free
they stared straight through the bars at me
the gate was open
no one had to stay
they spoke of church in exchange for food
lights out with 50 smelly-ass bad moods
i saw it superseded rude
so, i walked down and ate the trash
i had no church
no shame
no cash
the garlic bread was free
the sweet rolls weren't for me
so, i walked back down to the dead-soul church
to find a name i could besmirch
with lust, debauch, an empty purse
she told me she had her own room and bath
we tried to pull one on the *****
said that we were legal hitched
she asked for proof and I.D.
we didn't have a thing
that ended our sad little fling
goody gumdrops ain't gonna get my ring
grab my gear as i walk i sing
i know the words to everything
if i happen to forget
i'll make up better ones you'll bet
raised my sign and i raised my thumb
hoped a car was gonna come
sat there in the Yakima heat
sign propped up next to my feet
a nice redneck stopped and said
"have a seat"
he was welfare office bound
i was just a broke road-hound
waited for him in the shade
told him jokes for smokes
he made a good trade
got dropped off at an angry sunning truck-stop
flew my sign
one eye out for cops
a white guy in a small red car
pulled up and said
"i'll go that far"
soon we broke down on the road
i was sure my luck would soon implode
instead we put our heads on think
we woulda fixed the kitchen sink
but waters last to beer when i drink
we got some bolts and ******* 'em on
before we knew it we were gone
he got a smile
i got this song
then we hit Seattle like a ****
nothins' right if ya don't know wrong
NOTHINS' RIGHT IF YA DON'T KNOW WRONG
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 1:30 AM UTC
STRIPPED
I like the concept of being stripped,
**** I have been stripped of so much stuff!
I remember the first time someone tried stripping my dignity away.
When they tried stomping my dreams in my ribs,
trying to strip down my power, because, I was a girl.
The time, I superseded all expectations because
they thought I was dumb.
But through it all, I knew, what I was made of,
and stripped them of the desire of seeing me washed away.
I have stripped my soul until it touched the concrete,
Seeing my face plastered bare and in awe,
Laying there, wondering when the stripping would end!
Feeling debased by my own kind,
They try to filter me and I tried to comply,
But, my justice wanted a voice,
And my spirit-like a Phoenix rose
The shame kicked in and the shackles tightened a bit more,
The disappointment started a little chatter,
it got louder and louder,
I found myself fighting them and fighting me,
....but I didn’t give in,
The stripping continues, oh would it ever end?!!
I’ve gotten rid of anything that would get in my way,
Peeling away all the layers of garbage imposed on me;
That refrain my liberty,
that gets me father from my dream,
Realizing that in being stripped...
I rescued the little girl that almost died inside of me!
LeydisProse
1/15/2018
https://m.facebook.com/LeydisProse/
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 1:16 PM UTC
Often, we men take for granted,
That you've simply performed an edict of biologic cyclical reproduction.
And not wonder of the incredible largesse that has befallen us.
I am so profoundly transformed by the beauty of your love and your unselfishness.
Though we men oft complain of the seemingly irrelative by-products of this process we go through,
None can compare to the bloating, frequent urination, nausea, emotional turmoil,
Weight gain, wacky food choices, back pain, impatience, depression, negative self-image,
Waddle walk, belly steering wheel dilemma, inability to tie your shoes, hunger,
Relationship insecurity, cornucopiate vomitus, skinny lady envy, clothes no longer fit-itis,
Swelling ankles, chocolate cravings, diarrhea, headaches, pelvic pain, stretch marks, and what should be unlawful super odorous flatulence.
What you've done for us in the space and time of nine months
Is nothing short of the joyous miracle God has bestowed upon us.
I am awestruck that the place I pleasure in most for its tightness and firmness,
Was stretched beyond the limits of what I fear I will never be able to compete with.
I love you as no other man has loved any other woman,
My heart's eyes swell with tears, as it can not express or contain this overwhelming feeling.
For the love I see in their eyes, the endearment I feel when they utter my name(Dad!)
The gift of our three children, aside from the love of my God, and the fascinating adventure of our wedding and marriage, will never be superseded by any other joy; and for which I am forever truly and entirely grateful...!!!
-----ChawzzyScript
Feb 1, 2013
Feb 1, 2013 at 2:42 PM UTC
Old selves die easily.
They whine their superseded demands
And the winds of change
Blow buildings down on them.
Or slide into a warm bath of contentment
And gasp out their last as the water drains,
Marooning them like bathtoys of despair.
One has expired in my arms.
His face turns to smoke
Like a ghost beginning to form.
Tenderly, I drag him to the backyard
To hide him with the others.
I mark where they’re buried
So oblivion knows where to find them.
Mar 16, 2016
Mar 16, 2016 at 12:06 PM UTC
Lately, I’ve been dating myself:
Beaches,
Bars,
Bookstores,
& Bedrooms…
Self care superseded structure,
I’m the happiest spinster,
Because for once,
I’m myself.
Aug 30, 2013
Aug 30, 2013 at 7:14 PM UTC
“I love you”. You said and then you slipped away.
Broken dreams, meaningless futile efforts at happiness?
Mingled with useless feelings, promises of safe havens cast aside
Unmatched emptiness, soulless societies tearing apart concrete foundations
Searching with fevered panic, unhealthy unions superseded by drunkenness
Vacant eyes, struggled smiles stare back with futile efforts of understanding
Unreachable depths of ********** broken only by moments of saneness
Interruptions of innocent faces, blankly staring in wonderment at nothingness
Empty sentiment screams from hollowed eyes, foul breath from yellowed rotted smiles
Halo dirtied by unwashed hands, melodies of undying love, waking emotions.
Saneness interrupts
Passions momentarily subside, shameful memories, guilt ridden questions of why.
Seek forgiveness, absolution, resurrection of self worth.
Intimidated inner child crying, wanting wholeness
Inebriated ears cannot hear the mournful cry.
Sightless to the destruction of beautiful dreams
Cynical hearts cannot feel the bottomless abyss, created by selfish needs
Beautiful white light eclipsed by black desires, reality escapes
Averted eyes, wanton lies, excuses spring forth from rancid lips of deception
Healing words cast aside, ***** by visions of drunken ******
A warped sense of empowerment dissuades sanity.
Trapped in the tentacles of forbidden lust.
Saneness interrupts
Written By Edward Gordon Green.
Feb 5, 2012
Feb 5, 2012 at 11:21 PM UTC
Superseded my conditions with something simple, a vision for the mind to segue into:
An expedition to the stars, a journey towards difficulty fortified my convictions.
Experienced fourth dimensions, I have stepped into the infinite.
And none is perfect, I am aware of my impulses.
With a heart full of verses, I set the stage to play a role. This is all with a purpose.
I have indulged; I am at fault. There's so much to interpret.
Turbulence settled.
I learned to get leveled with vendettas developed since I was a kid, man.
Learned not to meddle; instructions were heaven-sent.
To go where few bodies had been, I had to find hobbies that aligned with the angels so that I could find the angle
to finally handle everything that I've been through.
A prevailing discomfort encompassed; imagine the troubles.
I rolled with the punches, and I came out triumphant.
From starving to marveling at the cosmic alignments and frequently fighting with God to having so many run-ins.
It's hard to keep a facade when destiny's tugging.
At war with myself, but the timing is perfect.
It has to be worth it; the truth has emerged.
Ever since I sunk into the depths where I dwelled and found my way to the surface.
Apr 13, 2024
Apr 13, 2024 at 11:05 AM UTC
Everyone is perfect, in that special persons eyes
And **** is a state of mind, nothing to do with size
And beauty is a thing, that lingers deep inside
and is never superseded, by what is seen outside
Sometime people try to tell us, that none of this true
and if you're one of those people, then I feel bad for you
Because everything thats physical, will one day fall away
and then you will be left alone, with your shallow little ways
Jun 5, 2010
Jun 5, 2010 at 11:11 AM UTC
Existence an exclusive dragnet
In full production
Operational destruction
Within the dwelling
Mass reduction
Applied obstruction
Void of causation
Internal mutation
Alien nation
Self degradation
On the street
Compartmentalization
Non fluctuation
Auto narration
Nonessential validation
Superseded ideation
While dormant
Comatose automation
Surreal anesthetization
Feeble realization
Pending extermination
Attend the institution
Jan 24, 2015
Jan 24, 2015 at 1:28 AM UTC
There are some coins in my pocket
Market asserts that ‘these are outdated’!
There are some pictures in my home
Viewer affirms these are antiquated!
There are some books in my library
Visitors avow these are passé!
There are some thought
Carrying with me,
Like, ‘world without edge for politics,
human out of religion,
people in matching pace and spirit,
to craft the globe to a village’!
But, everyone asserts these are archaic!
There some fruits in my store
But , people confirmed
These are perish and putrid!
Comprehend now only
My period is run out
I am outmoded in the freshness of the world!
Jun 25, 2014
Jun 25, 2014 at 12:58 AM UTC
Today I woke a happy fellow
Saw dancing daisies in the meadow
The sun was up to greet me so
With golden smile all aglow
Its rays of light of sparkling bliss
Did plant upon my cheek a kiss
Then wrapped me in warmful embrace
And set my beating heart apace
For springtime's grace has superseded
Savage winter which we heeded
Its colours blend a joyful soul
With heavenly palms we extol
The beautiful spring that whispers love
That fits my hand just like a glove
Today I am a happy fellow
Dancing daisies in the meadow
Sep 7, 2023
Sep 7, 2023 at 9:03 AM UTC
Dying the death
of a king
turned breathless pauper
thats recently watched
all the grains of sand
pass south
through orbs of glass
towards the grave.
Reaching to the heavens
from the floor
entwined in wails
and deep sunken moans
that labor in pangs
of anxious moments
which last for hours
and are only ever superseded
by short fits
of shaky sleep.
Hope and its former entitlements
simply derailed-
shattering each
of an un-numbered tomorrows
leaving them void
of how it was,
even though
that may have
been better
for sure.
However
when grand vistas
are moved by heavenly verse
or demonic desires
and the clouds are blown
east toward the sea,
its only done
so that the past-
has a chance
to dissipate.
Then appearing
far to blessedly late
is the painting
under the painting
of that holiday
when things seemed stronger
When sadly
it now clearly seems
we were silently
slipping away from one another:
one sliver of space at a time.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 8:05 AM UTC
When the sun came crashing from the sky
we knew why the oceans all ran dry
and we,
like harum scarum lunatics watched all this, believed it was a magic trick and later it would be alright.
But the night grew strong the longer it went on and we were wrong to laugh and play while everything we had,
faded into grey,then black and we realised it would not be back at the click of the fingers.
Some vestiges of a memory lingers on and fables told are of a day of gold and light and might we hear the story one more time,as told by the old man with more time upon his hands,about the distant lands where men could see,it seems an eternity of gloom has left much room and yet not to expand but contract back into caves, and slaves we were to ever think the madness could go on without some form of retribution,
some divine or godly intervention
an architect whose own invention had been superseded by what those whom he had invented needed?
It's all too late
we'll have to wait for another spot that turns up in a universe,where nothing worse than this could possibly occur
and though the candle is unlit,a bit of it will fall into another lighting of the sky
and once more I'm sure we'll wonder why
the magician always spins a double zero and wins.
Sep 22, 2013
Sep 22, 2013 at 1:50 AM UTC
Letter of Rejection
We are sorry to inform you
your services are not needed
your thoughts superseded
and I'm sorry for the pain
We request you not call us
or send us any letter
this will not get any better
we ask you to refrain
We ask that you go quietly
do not ask for our number
do not disturb our precious slumber
the patter of falling rain
We can call our attorney
he can keep you in confusion
make you pay for your intrusion
so sorry for the stain
We reject your inquisition
this is your final notice
please follow our man Otis
it will not help you to complain
Gomer LePoet...
Oct 31, 2013
Oct 31, 2013 at 4:13 PM UTC
By Arcassin & Elizabeth Squires
AB
Cinematic dramatic troubled teen,
Love drivin,
Insane,
As far as the eye can see,
You wouldn't believe,
Hurt,
Inspired her to dream and make a mends,
But never give a **** about a single friend,
Shadows creep,
Suicidal to the core,
Whole freshman year,
Known as the *****
But in life,
You must think,
And save up for what else is in store,
ES
A career,
Something to hold onto,
Direction in life,
Not the frittering away,
Of a valuable opportunity,
Troubled teen turning around,
The ***** tag within,
Wearing the good girl chameleon skin,
Paving a diamond studded road ahead,
Getting her mindset,
Straight,
The knife which bought her pain,
Not needed,
Of its somberness,
Optimistic aims and goals,
Superseded.
Feb 28, 2015
Feb 28, 2015 at 9:16 PM UTC
Esteem of reflection billowing up whenever one puff fades.
Day in, day out.
Pass in, pass out.
Staring off into space, am I getting better at geometry?
Looking into the line of nowhere.
Physical lines may just happen to converge with this.
Darkness may happen to eclipse it.
A point happens to be on it.
A light happens to shine therein.
Lines may also conflict with it.
Colors may not align with it.
Conglomerations may exist there without any congruence.
People happen upon it.
Muscles and nerve endings traverse it.
Needs cross its consciousness.
Predictions cross over it too.
Some ideas are superseded here.
The esteem of reflection scans all areas: physical, emotional, and mental.
The internal image is destroyed, or ground to dust.
Sounds are implanted upon it.
An imaginary self-concept is manifested on it.
The cycle of new crossings re-circulates.
Like this whole poem only affected my knowledge and not reality.
I sit up.
My body is placed on this line.
Like it is on stage acting for this line.
Cleanliness and neatness cross it.
The esteem of reflection takes on the form of part of my body.
I lay back down.
The self-concept reiterates itself.
As if my body's forms must assert themselves.
Afraid to look at bold symbols.
Afraid to act like I touch the things in this room.
A sense of shared humanity is spit out by my head.
I am the weak and selfish one.
Not esteeming another.
Only esteeming me and my reflection.
Not sharing a room.
Like I'm pulling down and in.
With my head in the sand.
I consider knowledge that isn't directly observed as secondary.
And I don't mean observed in a book.
This self-concept becomes the center which organizes the things that cross the line of nowhere.
It is the best comparison to my physical self, yet a figment of my imagination.
It is shaped more by attention than by materiality.
It's funny how anointing is at once a rising over and a descending.
Yet it cannot fully transform my mind.
For even this blessing crosses the line of nowhere.
And the esteem of reflection rises above it.
But when the line of nowhere becomes the self-concept then the mind is fully transformed.
The esteem of reflection would have equality with the self-concept.
Jan 30, 2021
Jan 30, 2021 at 1:49 AM UTC
I’m witty and contrite
It’s true I am quite daft
With a charming sense of humor
And a plethora of laughs
Boyish good looks
Intelligence in spades
Ambitious as they come
It’s true I got it made
Living for the fun of it
In every kind of way
Minute after minute
Living for today
And if tomorrow comes
I’ll be there for the race
Send me off to college
Or into outer space
I can be an astronaut
The stars to which I pray
Our galaxy, the universe
Vanished without a trace
I can make you happy
When we’re face to face
There’s no other way around it
The thrill is in the chase
And when I contemplate it
The suspect in a cage
It makes me feel nostalgic
Way back in the day
I try to be convincing
Read what’s on the page
A steaming locomotive
Superseded by the train
My heartbeat pumping fast
Allow me to explain
But first let’s grab a drink
I didn’t catch your name
Tell me all your secrets
I’ll prove you’re not insane
My heart, it goes unwanted
Do you feel the same?
I’ll never cheat or harm you
You’re deserving of only praise
You’ve made a real impression
Inducted to the hall of fame
Jun 15, 2018
Jun 15, 2018 at 5:42 AM UTC
Thirteen hours on a train, just to see your face -
looked for it in your hiding place;
Made my way through all the memories,
granted your fingers
permission to keener things
took the train,
in Jesus’ name,
all the way to you;
‘was always you –
the blue,
the “I’m through!”,
the “who knew?”,
and the “…, too”;
you, as if I couldn’t see further,
you,
guilty as charged
for this 2nd ****** -
this mind that cannot be un-fucked,
one wall, so heavy, I’m stuck;
superseded,
as you proceeded
to lie with both eyes,
or
pretend the love died,
long enough to see me cry;
truth made to waste,
patience into haste,
another love story gone wrong,
jotted down, but not for long;
obliteration,
translation - you
Nov 15, 2011
Nov 15, 2011 at 7:06 PM UTC
Who is it that you write to
some face in your third eye
vague and dreamy
Who are your messages for
the phantom universe hovering over your bed
That noisy place you wrest your head
Some folks inquire-
"What is it you desire?"
And the only sound answer is
"Everything."
But nothing in particular-
Maybe a cottage by the sea
Salty taste
Far from him
In an isolated tea party
with that hatter who lost touch with reality
At least as dreamers see it
And when I fall asleep it's not next to him
I wasn't his enemy when he's insecure
and now he's someone else's disease to cure
Beaten roads lead to many distances
Tomorrow could dissipate like breathes
I speak to ghosts on the outskirts of society
Wandering souls who speak in emotion
who can only be touched by melodies
that hover like fog over a graveyard
Those apparitions on the road that
disappear after you catch them in your peripherals
We are a dying brood of siblings
Superseded by imitation and the death of community
Magic lives in owl eyes and sits on benches at midnight
with only it's own voice to console itself when no one sees it
May 13, 2016
May 13, 2016 at 1:03 AM UTC
The fact stalks through my brain,
weapons ready
to destroy the preconceptions
with which it disagrees.
My natural defences are bewildered,
programmed to allow it through
but dismayed at the havoc it wreaks
and the wreckage of belief.
Finally, its work achieved,
it hunkers down,
crouching like a spider,
defensive, fearful,
waiting for the day
when it, too,
is superseded.
Jan 3, 2011
Jan 3, 2011 at 12:11 AM UTC
The other night I had a dream that was too real not to be seen
Sitting on a bus mine heart felt a rush
A head gathered on my chest resting and relieving all your stress
Looking down my heart was warmed a feeling lost but now reformed
My arm draped around your head all your ill emotions have since fled
The single thing I have ever desired is for your angst to be retired
It looks now that it has succeeded my love for you has superseded
Your head sits such at peace my body acting as an armored fleece
My soul mission is your serenity your protector is my identity
My dream is so perfect I let it be leaning back not questioning my harmony
Your with me once again I finish my prayer and say amen
As I wake I am confused my situation I am bemused
Anger overcomes my still determination becomes my will
I will have my dream again regardless the stakes your head will rest no matter what it takes
At the wall I can only stare twas no dream it was a nightmare
Nov 16, 2010
Nov 16, 2010 at 12:03 PM UTC
You're no friend of mine, you f**k -
You should be there to protect and support me;
To encourage me to meet my potential;
To skipper me towards rewarding opportunities.
But that isn't your way - No, not you!
Your insidious sabotage screws me at every turn;
You lurk in dark recesses then pounce when I'm in company -
As soon as I open my mouth, you're there to trip me up.
I'd be rid of you if I could,
But you've anchored your talons monopolistically;
Superseded any attempt I've tried to reform;
Undermined my confidence to the point of despondency and dependency,
All to fuel your Super-Ego.
If my suicide had succeeded,
You'd be dead and buried,
And I'd be free!
Mar 6, 2014
Mar 6, 2014 at 2:31 PM UTC
woken by the cloaked coalition in the early mornings of spring
previous energy diminished on succeeding in infinite failure
that i can't complain or repair, how long is the string
that holds the superseded means of success to your
self annexed left to mature in a golden process
indifference fulfilling best dressed veneer polished
frightened conversationalist demolished hopeless hope-less
view on your own facetious breath of galactic knowledge
Mar 16, 2014
Mar 16, 2014 at 3:05 PM UTC