"supplant" poems
Spit in my face you Jews, and pierce my side,
Buffet, and scoff, scourge, and crucify me,
For I have sinned, and sinned, and only he
Who could do no iniquity hath died:
But by my death can not be satisfied
My sins, which pass the Jews’ impiety:
They killed once an inglorious man, but I
Crucify him daily, being now glorified.
Oh let me, then, his strange love still admire:
Kings pardon, but he bore our punishment.
And Jacob came clothed in vile harsh attire
But to supplant, and with gainful intent:
God clothed himself in vile man’s flesh, that so
He might be weak enough to suffer woe.
1.5k
I still can't go there.
To that little swatch of grass
bathed in sunlight
without even a dappling of shade
It seems like a green field of memories
with almost no one left to remember
Even the words subscribed on the tiny brass plaques
seem somehow belittling
With them set into the ground
for the convenience of mowers
to pass over
It makes her seem
so inconsequential
that she shouldn't trouble the groundskeeper
with her monument
It makes me think of the mundane consequences of death
that overshadow the greatness of life
Like the simple economics
of maintenance
I can't look at the life of such a beautiful women
summed up in such a small way
it seems so common
so trite
I know that she would have told you
that she was common
but she wasn't
She had a greatness in her soul and being
that transcended the normal
that transcends death
I am overwhelmed by that little plaque
and it's insignificance
Enough to paralyze me from going there
I know that if I see it it will push
the other memories from my mind
and supplant her
She will become a place in a cemetery
with a little map on the grounds keeping shed
gridded and numbered
number 6 in row B
a little part of the order in a small field
and I can't have that
Jan 23, 2014
Jan 23, 2014 at 9:38 AM UTC
in the wild, there is nothing mild,
oh sure, there are sedate centipedes,
bobbing butterflies, owl calls that
echo along forest walls, even the plants
can supplant your will to live,
but today
a different sort of experience,
they showed their teeth,
the puffed and snorted,
I didn't dare retort,
and did not make eye contact,
then on the streets,
some physically assault,
some slink in shadows,
take out hockey moms,
and eighty year women
with purses, curse these cowards,
but today,
surrounded in a confrontation zone,
my heart beat wildly in my chest,
my arms and legs felt heavy and tired,
I prayed for protection in this test,
of wills, they flex their muscled limbs and
are not alone, while I flew solo,
at ground level, staring bared teeth,
and territorial ownership at stake,
I was looking for two dumbbells to finish
my work out
©DWE012014
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 10:39 PM UTC
What do couples are sincerely
Married: the soul or the sultry body;
The outer lustre or the graces inner;
The virtue and the feelings finer
Or the hot frame that with enchant
The eye, which does the sight supplant
Of common sense? Is it the fading
Qualities or those fast-dye abiding
Attributes--weathering season and time
Unscathed, that's unchanged like clime.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 3:08 AM UTC
Is it my imagination
Or are there far fewer birds singing ?
What dawn do they mutely await
Through the long night of terror ?
Silence speaks of pervasive fear
And of the loss of ancestral nests.
The protector has taken an axe to the trees.
Trees fall; the earth shakes.
Raucous cries of dispossession supplant birdsong
As the khaki-clad hunters *** sitting ducks
While Zeus' swans feast on Leda's flesh.
Rejoice, my countrymen, for the prophecy has come true
-The state has indeed withered away.
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 7:13 AM UTC
Some days I don’t want to leave the cinema
I sit dead centre,
hope the screen will fill my field of vision,
each speaker will cover my ears
in numbing sound
allowing thrills and broken hearts
of others’ made up tales
to supplant my own for two hours
and change
The dark holds me anonymous,
lets me depart and drift,
try on the moods in lost safety
so when credits roll
choked tears and shiny blisses
are returned, rewound, reset
for what comes next
Jan 16, 2022
Jan 16, 2022 at 11:55 AM UTC
This is my American Spirit
Though I am loathe, but deserved to hear it
This is my generation in a long, sour drag:
Bohemes and hipsters, the self-important type
Self-serving directness with subtle insouciance
Self-righteous without e’er scents of conviction
Qualities, to all, vogue slimming befit
This, this is my American Spirit.
I’ll be the equalizer in a furtive game of chess
And acquaintance, its partner, arbitrating
I’ll wear the habit of means and humility
An ashen cherry, flicked, waiting to be
The pyrrhic finite ember and pastiche memory
Escape is apparent in discontinuity, my
Means to ravel a courser bond in someone,
As only a blush reminder only when they all clear it
Yes, this is my, my American Spirit.
We’ll have a game of butting desires
‘Tween all those appetites and some self-respect
Only, I know, to lose out in the end.
Is there a place for dignity to prevail
Or charm in an attempt likely to fail?
Can there be eyes open, minds or thought
To gentle pride its combatant ‘gainst
Unconscious abuses: yea or not?
But I will know irony as means to an end
Turned cheek from machination
That I can do, I can pretend
When the veil may be lifted—that I fear it
This, this is my American Spirit.
Of course I enable, for the cynosure, the dissonances
Supplant for fraternity fraternal-ligature
Too obvious is resolve ‘neath shaw of fleeting smoke
My own wants impeded, kept at a distance.
For, oh, Fortune! How you have written
Some conscience to mend it to others kept calm
A charity in practice as this cigarette is long
While vice, in all aspects, is the most correct wrong
But hummed out in truth as a fascist, he ought
I’ll turn to a tonic of strength to delude
That pretense and pride the conscience denude.
In some be it strong in others enthralled
Whilst ********* our prayer beads of looking-glass selves
Quietly burning the vestigial gods
That brought us a new light or perspective on things
And though we are loathe, we despise to hear it,
This, this is our American Spirit.
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 11:50 PM UTC
Early May.
Grass now green.
Lilacs bloom.
Red, yellow, blue
tulips supplant
winter's constant cold.
Warmer air
now through
her hair
fair and golden.
We kiss.
Robins, bluebirds
try out
their wings.
Skies take on
blue's hue.
Hope palpable
fills fields
once buried
in silver snow.
We know
wheat and barley
begin to grow.
Maple tree leaves
are being born
on only weeks ago
were barren limbs.
Spring sings.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
May 6, 2021
May 6, 2021 at 7:49 AM UTC
My mind is a trick-seed sprouting in me
Runners wide run in rich but shallow soil
Each birthing things that were not meant to be
Deserted, parched they die as I recoil
A false womb am I and guilty tears shed
Over false dreams buried in open graves
Who will come to avenge the wanton dead
The miscarriages flow in scarlet waves
‘Had you but fed us,’ each cries out, ‘you could
Now reap.’ As weeds they rise from their dark holes
And invading, choking out new crops would
Paralyze this befuddled, barren soul
Who can supplant the worming roots, their cry
And fate other than death my dreams supply?
Jul 10, 2016
Jul 10, 2016 at 9:18 PM UTC
When Daniel swam out towards the island,
the children and I saw it happen,
the family safe on shore, oblivious
to the riptides that pull
shells, weeds, flounder, and men down.
We could not believe the ocean claimed him.
He had romanced her,
witholding for once
his scorn for things too vast.
Today, I leave this coastline,
its cliff-faces and inlets.
I walk on the beach,
and then I walk into the water
up to my ankles, knees, waist,
up to my neck before I let the sea take me.
I swim,
I grow fins,
lose my arms and legs,
gills supplant my lungs,
and my face flattens 'til I'm fisheyed.
I am a citizen of the sea,
come to sue for my loss.
I swim like a mad maiden,
I swim,
then I dive below, dear Daniel.
Apr 22, 2012
Apr 22, 2012 at 4:36 PM UTC
(an almost lipogram)
It is missing!
Just as a lost paramour
or a forlorn suitor of a now hollow past,
causing a lack of all glamour.
My lass’s familiar touch hiding
astray in murky clouds of a dulling rainbow,
my writing turns to a wan pallid world
as I scour my mind to supplant this loss.
Assailing yon dragon with quill in hand
I spurn my awaiting angst,
stalking as Orion’s own conspirator
disavowing all doubts of my own ability.
Sallying forth I do not tarry.
Words assault a wall of lofty doubts
born of naught but a foolish phobia.
Scaling mighty ramparts,
my anima’s flight attacks a radiant moon.
Until, with a final onslaught
my thoughts find laconic catharsis.
As twilight’s shroud is found approaching,
with a concluding flourish of a now
worn writing tool,
my lost lass of misty pasts...
returns.
© S.Loeding
All Rights Reserved
Nov 3, 2015
Nov 3, 2015 at 5:25 PM UTC
My drug, my escape
my gravity,
You are what I lean on
when wind beckons
shrilling of the whole world
amassing within
such small confines.
My air would still
upon silent panics
without you
my constant dosage.
My head is the mount,
my ears the hungry mouths
voracious their appetites, finicky
their tastes.
A hungry duet
yields no isolation.
Fuel the diet
or suffer endless
distraction.
My solitude
won't arise
from elusive
silence, only
multiples of white
noises shall supplant
the unknown absence.
Prepare these notes
as artists do
strokes on a painting,
each their own masterpiece for
the uninhibited mind,
deliver me
a melody, and abstain
the malady.
Grace will unfurl
to and from
when the blank that is
limbo besieges.
Remove all, allow
me to nurture my own
joys of rainfall,
sorrows of sunlight
so I may be spared
relentless storms, those
sandy blizzards,
for their pain
is mere
chaos.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 1:23 AM UTC
the dark air cool against skin,
the fireplace,
is waiting to light, start again,
a reflected face,
a window framed in pain,
such a place,
where the flat voice strains
echoes supplant,
the sharp notes replaced, it is plain,
by many faces
in the window, join as a refrain,
for this moment is just so,
how the voice hits those notes,
when the image, the man and the tune
are all alone,
but song after song, poet becomes a bard,
he finds his voice which, was impossible or hard,
in a crowded mind of a crowded room,
he takes on a song that fills his empty.
For alone, he sings,
the joy it brings, even if in a lament
to the lonely friendless place he recog-
nizes and fill with song, as home.
No snow, falls,
rain and tears spill
he has had his fill,
of rejection, but thrown
to the ground with harm-
less words, birds get treated better.
This crazy figure chases crows,
from his balcony, by singing opera,
caw caw....cawcaw.....caw caw ca-caw,
he ***** not his arms,
he stops and goes back inside,
bereft of pride, really lost,
so much giving has cost,
him dearly, he needs to sleep,
so to get up early, after all truly,
there is no one else to walk the dog.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
take me taste me
you are the body
reset me satiate me
you are the body.
touch only
fragments of the full picture
nobody says
the taste would betray me
nobody says
the heart
is the first ***** to commit mutiny.
stabbed, wrecked
punctured, indented
wilt the words so
so my mouth
isn’t responsible anymore.
it cannot be held accountable
for the vowels, unroot my language
supplant love in favour of it
like an opener
I remember your laugh
like a close.
Oct 24, 2023
Oct 24, 2023 at 3:46 PM UTC
Another day, another act of chaos
I see it arise quite often now, a school shooting, a death in the family
I've learned not to be surprised by it
I see the reactions in the faces of loved ones; looks of confusion, of fear, mouthing "how could this happen, why?"
How are you surprised anymore?
I think of where they must be internally, grappling but submitting to a God who must think them servile, at least how they have crafted Him
Content in the answer "God works in mysterious ways"
It's easy to be mysterious when you're not even there
Like my biblical namesake, I have grappled with God internally, wrestled him to a standstill, and I cannot allow Him to supplant me
I know there is no great lesson to be learned from this, and maybe that's lesson enough for today class
If I claim to be an instructor, a teacher, a guiding light to those walking along a murky and narrow corridor
I must hold open a path toward light, and point out the missteps that must be taken to get through the threshold
I am not surprised by killings, by death, I have met him, and he has saved a seat for me, I have it ready in my hometown six feet underground
I meet up with him from time to time, he instills his presence by proving to me he has met with my loved ones, my associates, and shows to me
"I will have you soon enough"
Fortunately I procrastinate when it counts, and hustle where it doesn't.
To everyone who has met him, or has seen his works in the current chaos
I send love.
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 6:19 AM UTC
Charade
“Stand behind me now,”
I tell the charcoal scarecrow.
Bony fingers tap, trying to refract me
into my darkest madness.
In the dusty silence, trying
to supplant me, is a madwoman.
They won’t know - I hide myself
within myself.
My Kabuki face stands in for me.
Ghost worms wind themselves around me,
trying to pull me from my cherished space.
Never let them see you are crazy -
or they will expect it all the time.
Jul 19, 2015
Jul 19, 2015 at 7:53 AM UTC
**Please don't be offended
for I dare not be too prone
to read anothers written word
that may supplant my own.
Please don't think me selfish
should I not reply,
the words I read may influence
the style that I apply.
Please don't feel affronted
I do not mean you wrong
for just like you when writing
my verse, is my own song.
... ... ...**
May 2, 2011
May 2, 2011 at 3:31 AM UTC
even the greatest fall weak sometimes,
sometimes, people forget to realize,
maybe those certain things didn't occur because they simply weren't made to happen,
Or at least that's what we've obtained periodically.
Thinking and trusting that things just happen for a reason,
Can't possibly compensate or supplant for a lucid explanation as to why situations maintain escalation.
Still wondering why?
Well, I too ponder sometimes.
Even to a fulfilled extent,
It's merely another attempt to feel something yet again.
No reminders or play back buttons to reverse or change time,
Sometimes, we all forget how to embrace the superficial reality of facing the feeling of what it truly makes us feel alive.
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 5:57 PM UTC
Forcing imagination to reestablish itself, after prescriptive onslaught of docs, scientists, specialists and quacks, lacks for ease of descriptive purpose, genuine motivation. The pills, darling, the pills usurp rational outmode. This to counteract that, which causes symptomatic supersession of more to set aside a succession imposing supplant more supplements. I submit! This breaking down of the other and then an other in a pharmaceutical battery of which ***** next? Can common sense overrule? Overruled! As another script is scribbled, a blank gaze overcomes, and the drool drips and overruns.
Jan 2, 2016
Jan 2, 2016 at 8:27 PM UTC
Racism is the worst mental illness amongst us all. It metastasizes in our hearts and spreads throughout our lives hurting, often destroying, our sisters and brothers whose skins are of a different color than ours. But if we were to close our eyes and open our hearts, we would embrace them. "Come, join us for dinner. Tell us how your day was," we would say. All 8 billion of us would have a feast. Earth, the only home we all have, would no longer know wars, only peace. We would care and share. Generosity would supplant genocide. All air and water would be clear and toxic-free. With glee, we all would celebrate our ultimate freedom: the right to be our real selves, helping, not harming, all others. There would be no weapons, no weeping over other lives killed, no artificial boundaries despots use to keep us desperate and distant from others whom we love. We do not have to die to incur the same noxious fate. Open your eyes and hearts to see and feel we are one.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Mar 14, 2023
Mar 14, 2023 at 6:24 PM UTC
there you were.
i ignored you,
but his arms around you
were so distracting.
i didnt hate you,
i just envied you.
you had what i wanted,
even after all
this time.
his arm around you,
his head tilted down to yours,
his whisper in your ear,
tearing me each time.
you had my moment,
you had my dream.
you had what could have been
my everything.
i hear the voices,
my friends warning me,
reminding me of the pain,
bringing back his words,
so i wont forget that
hes a ****
yet still i yearn,
still it hurt to watch you,
dancing there,
with him.
you swayed back and forth,
wearing my smile,
and all i could think was
you had my moment,
you had my dream.
you had what could have been
my everything.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC
I reject all
of your opinions
and ask you
to supplant them
with mine
forthwith
Jan 2, 2021
Jan 2, 2021 at 11:18 PM UTC