"supplicating" poems
Longing through lonesome days,
supplicating the sun to set.
I anxiously await your arrival,
should consciousness concede to what I covet.
Only in fanciful fantasies,
in the delight of darkness,
and in our notoriously nocturnal nature,
have I ever happened upon happiness.
Give me the gift of your grace,
the spell of your sweet surrender,
and the temporarity of tonight
will flourish into forever.
In the day I may wistfully wander
halfheartedly and uncommitted,
but in dreams I know not the words
lonely or unrequited.
Feb 24, 2017
Feb 24, 2017 at 9:43 PM UTC
1591
The Bobolink is gone—
The Rowdy of the Meadow—
And no one swaggers now but me—
The Presbyterian Birds
Can now resume the Meeting
He boldly interrupted that overflowing Day
When supplicating mercy
In a portentous way
He swung upon the Decalogue
And shouted let us pray—
2.7k
~~~
watercolor morning whimsy
palate wet with blues and greys
tattered woollen clouds are hanging
think it's going to rain today
there's a storm upon the desert
as the thunder will attest
i sit, my back unto the dawning
watching lighting in the west
up before the light came creeping
o'r the hills out to the east
there's a pregnant breeze a'blowing
in the dark i pray in peace
i hold my hands,
palms facing upward
supplicating to the sky
on this watercolor morning
we commune
the Lord and i
soulsurvivor
(C) 7/15/2015
Jul 15, 2015
Jul 15, 2015 at 8:56 AM UTC
Although an atheist
with many question that abound
bout the lineage of humanity, this bard
formerly of Belmont hills
nada seeketh to be crowned
yet applauds those
who attest in deity
where salvation doth re-dound
peace of body, mind
and spirit can be found
and rest in peace when demise
finds her/him under ground
identified by a tombstone and a mound
which...over time becomes less round.
-----------------------------------------------------
YOM KIPPUR ™
Those who practice Jewish
faith pay obeisance
Too holiest day of their year
Atonement & repentance mantra themes
Unswerving prayers flock doth wear
As spiritual raiment in tandem
With a twenty-five hour
fast orthodox n’er veer
With pride synagogues rabbi beckons
flock to don cloak of virtue to wear
Supplicating against creator
sans vices within psyche tear
The delicate fabric covenant
easily shredded
per temptation from ****** spear
Loftiness attendant on this
High Holy Day
whence judgment severe
Within gilt written tomb
encapsulating behavior –
Vile forgiveness rare
Thus inducing many a worshiper
To spend hours immersed in prayer
Or…even self-abuse to vitiate
demonic forces that invisibly leer
Drowning out words of the prophet
that believers must hear
To attain coveted accompaniment
To promised land
without materialistic gear
Whence with most obedience
to sacred texts will fare
Most successfully and kowtowed
Like Rudolph the red nose rein deer
While Santa Claus
godlike heard crystal clear
Whose voice ushers inxs of hoof beats
Akin to horn of Gabriel did blare
As eve n tide cast dark shadows
from royal Belvedere
For those lives of purity
offered salvation into the heavenly air.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 4:51 PM UTC
I can't remember a time
without your pull in my heart
nor a moment spent (without suffering)
while we were apart
An unconscious caress
like my hands up your dress
We were meant for thunderstorms
like we were meant to be wet.
Unconscious desires
still captivate and surprise
while subconscious fires
still burn each other's eyes
Your wrists call for my grasp
looming over you, breathing
...heavy...steaming
treating each moment as though it were our last
Descending slowly
into your vibrating soul
drinking your life
consuming you whole
devouring flesh
sweet supplicating spirit
Praise me, dark rose
and I'll hold you close
with eternal arms
that never betray
and the love of vampires
til our last day
when it turns to hours
and my tears to blood
are shed on the angel
who takes my One.
...so soon to follow
with Romeo's pace
lay I by your side
to share this place.
We come from one
and I long to unite
my soulful moons
to your **** night.
Our illuminate passion
shall call the tide
and flood our bodies
with passionate sunrise.
I need your worship
I can't resist your praise
I'd release my blood
to fill your grave
to swim with my beloved
and rest where she lay.
041504~2.28a
Apr 22, 2015
Apr 22, 2015 at 1:08 PM UTC
Let fractals grow beneath my fingertips so I can feel them spiral through my veins
as salt water percolates through suppurating wounds.
Let me lie supine in the open air of dysphoric intimacy
So the cold creeps through the subterranean skin of my chest
Let my blood flush my cheeks and spread unrelentingly
excoriating the flesh of my exposed body supplicating itself before the sky.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 8:57 AM UTC
She brushed her veil aside and tilted her head upward,
Not seeking comfort or benediction,
Only to confirm what she **** well knew was happening,
That the skies, full of gray and grim portent if not outright malice,
Had picked this very time to begin steadily dripping,
Signaling what was sure to be a sodden downpour
(The weekend already chock-a-block with disasters:
The chocolate fountain a testament to dysfunction,
The rehearsal dinner poached salmon overdone and dry
The limousine company downsizing them at the last minute,
Having realized their top-line models
Could never handle the grade or narrow figure-eight drive
Up to the mansion’s precarious hilltop locale.)
The photographer, who’d lived around here all his days
And had developed a sixth sense
Concerning the vagaries of the weather
As well as those of combustible brides,
Had done his best to border-collie the proceedings along,
But as the droplets increased in size and intensity
Recriminations were hurled and doors slammed
As the bridal party sulked off
Toward what promised to be a most interesting reception.
We’d witnessed the goings on,
(Bride fulminating, groom supplicating
The location for the pictures apparently his idea,
Thus proving there are places
Where angels and husbands should fear to tread)
From a safe distance, under the overhang of the great porch
Overlooking the broad, ostensibly placid Hudson below,
Having come here in spite of the clouds,
As the odd rumble of thunder,
And occasional spate of rain being part and parcel of things,
As we’d mucked through these parts long enough to know
That they were fleeting,
And not without compensations of their own
If one was of a mind to seek them out
(We knew full well of the bewitchment
Of seeing the clouds descend slowly,
Covering the sleeping silhouette of old Rip Van Winkle
Slumbering in the knobby Catskill foothills just to the southeast)
And no more than fifteen minutes
After the newly minted man and wife left,
The sun broke through, glorious and unfiltered,
And we ducked into the great room of the house,
Reveling in the magic of unaugmented light.
Aug 14, 2017
Aug 14, 2017 at 1:17 PM UTC
Emotional sequestration perseverates
across thine time warped
weft wise wold,
sans interpersonal stagnation
flourishes as oft twice told
tale amidst derelict hollowed
moldering sacrificed stranglehold
did potential..., now bankrupt acquaintanceships/
friendships get out sold
agonizingly excruciatingly
jujitsu physically writhing
front row seat occupied -
whereat direct view of scaffold
penurious adolescent Anorexia Nervosa
plagued decades prior fraught
psychological, neurological and illogical
repercussions steam rolled
natural heterosexual propensity
stifling, stinting, and stymying this old
morosely jinxed kerfuffle inciting,
hermetically heat sealed,
tightly bound stinging
straitened yellow jacketed
bee devilish mold
hogtied hold, pig in the poke,
xenophobic-ally
fastened, galvanic hold
wrenching vice grippe
fiercely extolled sterile lackluster
human existence devoid cold
hence, imperative ambition
to act forthright and bold
before advanced age
finds this wordsmith additionally auld.
This solitary reader quests doth newt plead
per outreach need
without supplicating, lionizing, boot mead
dee eight ting, enticing Nietzscheism lead
me by thine pug nose,
nor doth this passive heretic - heed
ding perseverance
without selfishness nor greed
aye only seek to be freed,
where ambivalence to enjoy life exceed
sharing soulful travails yes in deed
foster repartee with persons no matter creed
faith, intelligence, nationality breed
united by state worthy charisma agreed?
Jun 18, 2018
Jun 18, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
through my disabilities:
endured an enablist
it was beyond my masculinity
to stop seeking farther approval
sallying forth into contorted
realities ... humbling and bumbling
along predetermined trails
of oblivion
non contextual servitude
is blissful if done right
like lumberjacks
in forests of gumption
while living within
the synchretic monotony
while becoming
architects for disdain
all the while, our composite genius
suckling on ingots of caloric magnificence
while forgetting principles:
art science technology
and supplicating on splurges
converted into gurgles and burps
within this abbreviated lifeway
i strutted toward my masculinity
but found my rhythm
on the vector of eternal boyhood
while forgetting to ask:
why does Mother suffer so?
Mar 9, 2024
Mar 9, 2024 at 5:42 AM UTC
When I think of days and nights I have spent
Begging unresponsive deities,
I now wonder if that time should have been used
Savoring life's wine, instead of on my knees
So many prayers that rose like curling smoke
From a heap of dried smoldering leaves,
Rising upward, supplicating a response,
Were they lost in some galaxy thick with thieves?
I fear not one reached its destination --
Am I naive in my conclusion
That perhaps my prayers were feckless and garbled,
Or dismissed in a moment of confusion?
No! My prayers were delivered distinctly,
But to each one futile hope was pinned;
Too often these hands folded reverently,
While my supplications were lost to the wind
Now the rivulets are too cold to flow,
And the trees have donned their robes of ice;
No longer will these hands be joined together
Pointing upward, trying to reach Paradise
Such things are not accomplished by begging,
I turn my back and scoff at the rules
Of a game won only by the most cunning,
While faithfully observed by cowards and fools
I will not survey the devastation
Strewn in paths I've so faithfully trod,
Walking on thorns, wondering if I've suffered
Long enough to be found worthy by some god
Misery and woe have trespassed my heart,
So here's a vow I will not rescind:
These hands will now be used to reach out for love,
And not for prayers that will be lost to the wind!
Jun 10, 2017
Jun 10, 2017 at 1:34 PM UTC
a little
r,
that's all I have,
a hook upon to hang my spirits,
hoping these pre~sleep morbidiities
be by gravity,
sleep drained, and my
heart restored to wholeness
<>
a tiny single letter separating,
us from them,
it is a handhold, a lifeline,
grasping something for all of us
to hold onto for balance,,
when thinking bout the
hurt we exert,
rendering me near inert:
*what we do,
what we let happen,
permit, allow
the world to afflict our*
children
gasp at the horrors, inflicted,
grasp the enormity of all of it,
curse my brain for this self inflicted pain,
the most vulnerable exposed
to our failures to protect
them from infections
inward and outward<
desirous of infecting
and you claim
"did your best"
with reddened gilded~guilt edged letters
a illegitimized excuse.
knowing you cannot protect them from the
evils already contained
within,
and the without,
so well hidden,
the bullying torturers,
who are their parents
who go unpunished!
who cares
whose the guit moreover,
all needy for a No, no, No!
the visiuons implanted in my brain,
beg sleep to banish them
from under my drooping eyelids,
but the lightning screams overheard,
infect my eyes,
and the sleep slowed
from
my hopeless prayers of remorse, restitution,
laying bed flat, supplicating
anyone who hears this total body cri,
and no one answers
for the guilt is widespread, broadly shared,
anyone who is parenting,
knows,
the answer will not be forthcoming
and forgiveness will not be granted
by yourself
to yourself
from yourself
for forgiveness
for this
one on the list of multicipity of sins
committed,
is not attainable...
and to sleep,
bit by an asp.
who delivers a certain kind of respite,
perchance, not to dream,
is my only hope...
Saturday,
2/19/25
10:00PM
Apr 20, 2025
Apr 20, 2025 at 11:21 AM UTC