"surly" poems
Eat me before I eat you
Staring with **** eyes
I'll be yer mantis
(Who's the *****
Swallow me whole
Devour me alive
Loving it more
Than all the whips of Caesar
Regurgitated hate like
Mary Shelley's Frankenstein
Or pigs feeding on blood and bones
At the trough
Boring my way out thru
Yer ****** ulcer guts
You shouldn't drink like a fish
If you aren't at sea
Weakening your resolve
With surly drunk parasitic me
This is how we show
Our extensive toxic love sensibility
Sep 8, 2014
Sep 8, 2014 at 8:35 AM UTC
*Life is my current lover.
I swig her ephemeral taste from my cupped hands
worried as the golden, shimmering liquid rushes through
creases and cracks in my jaded hands.
Her mood varies through my stages;
at times she is of doting temper and roseate kisses
but when love evades her, most often than not,
her calloused hands damage the pearly flesh in tender
places,
and discontent paints a surly mood as she digs her crimson
brush against the canvas of my self.
Life is my inconsistent lover,
sometimes doting but most often than not abusive.
So I vowed my eternal devotion to Death.
We escape under the dark canopy of starless wings;
a tryst.
I eat of the forbidden feasts in the Kingdom of Hades,
grains of scarlet pomegranates staining my chapped lips.
Death has promised me perpetuity.
But until Life decides to release me from her capricious temper,
I shall long for the wintry, rainy comfort of my drowsy affair.*
Apr 24, 2014
Apr 24, 2014 at 12:35 AM UTC
If I am the mother to a million poems landing on def ears and
a single one grows slowly to learn your language than
I will surly transcend into a kind of euphoria
and swim in satisfaction.
If I am the mother to a thousand ideas
and none but one shall strike you
but it is so loud the ground you stand on trembles
Than I will cross the threshold of my potential
knowing I have finally listened long enough to say something undeniable.
If I whisper a hundred nothings onto notebook paper
and after a hundred years a single sentence means something substantial to a individual..
than I have done something innately good
and larger than myself; a single mother to a million poems
Apr 9, 2012
Apr 9, 2012 at 8:02 PM UTC
Sincerely surly American accents
Amany humble apologies spill
Likewise the well wishes
A many ways to say or quill
“Thank the heavens for you”
Precious things reminding few
Occasions many of appreciation’s due.
Sep 26, 2018
Sep 26, 2018 at 7:40 PM UTC
Silent whispers through the air spinning up high
fallowed by lusters in the sky
reaching across throughout the tree's creating a beautiful seen
shining beyond what man knows
lightning such darkness
surly you must hear my prayer while I sit here in despair
Sep 2, 2012
Sep 2, 2012 at 2:45 AM UTC
Crawled inside a whisky bottle
For I am no aristotle
This is my hiding spot for awail
There is no need for 911 to be dialed
I'm only trying to drown my misery
Surly that is plain to see
Please don't shake me out
I need my whisky stout
Let me stay In here for now
I'll find my own way out.....some how
Mar 22, 2016
Mar 22, 2016 at 11:31 AM UTC
There is a wildness still in England that will not feed
In cages; it shrinks away from the touch of the trainer's hand,
Easy to **** not easy to tame. It will never breed
In a zoo for the public pleasure. It will not be planned.
Do not blame us too much if we that are hedgerow folk
Cannot swell the rejoicings at this new world you make -
We, hedge-hogged as Johnson or Borrow, strange to the yoke
As Landor, surly as Cobbett (that badger), birdlike as Blake.
A new scent troubles the air -- to you, friendly perhaps
But we with animal wisdom have understood that smell.
To all our kind its message is Guns, Ferrets, and Traps,
And a Ministry gassing the little holes in which we dwell.
4.8k
Little man all dressed in red
Where you think your going with that flag on your head?
Came from a good mother, why make her cry?
You go outside your surly die
Little man all dressed in blue
Looked like he wanted revage for something that didnt inolve you
Sep 9, 2014
Sep 9, 2014 at 3:39 PM UTC
1649
A Cap of Lead across the sky
Was tight and surly drawn
We could not find the mighty Face
The Figure was withdrawn—
A Chill came up as from a shaft
Our noon became a well
A Thunder storm combines the charms
Of Winter and of Hell.
4.3k
An indifferent ache swirls in the silence
throbbing like a dancing candle flame;
no one understands the heart of silence
moving the darkness with its ancient dance
Its voice is only felt but never heard
the way it whispers the reality it bears;
disrobing the nakedness of a fragile heart
exposing inherent truth deep in disguise
retouching the chaos passing of love laid bare
Unspoken emotions that nobody hears
float around a muted tongue benumbed by fear
doubt is a bitter taste that knows not love
searching for a labyrinth to begin to wend a better way
trying to feel the unfelt warmth of love in an endless cold
waiting on a frozen emptiness that never thaws
No one understands the haunting fear,
... surly it couldn't happen again ― and surly it will,
a heart stifled silent, silence doth loudly peal
poignant dreaded words:
***"It's not you ― it's me ,.......
I love you but I'm not in love with you"***
and like winter dreaming for the sun to reappear,
to come back again and dry the memory of fallen tears,
a hushed heart falls off the earth lost in ether shadows lay
mooning in the lonely silence within moonlit dapple
When you pull love too close ― it will push you away
some silence heals ― a dissonant silence cuts to the bone
Only the lonely feel a silent voice sigh
Only one hears a silenced heart die ...
harlon rivers ... March 2018
Mar 22, 2018
Mar 22, 2018 at 3:00 PM UTC
Need adventure Helicopter not included
I mentioned before California is like cereal it is full of fruits nuts and flakes well add Larry to the list he
Found himself out in the yard in a lawn chair and the unthinkable happened he come to the conclusion
He was bored now that just won’t do not in Los Angeles so to solve the problem he dashed down to the
Army surplus store bought a bunch of weather balloons stopped along the way got a tank of helium
Brought them home filled and tied the balloons to the lawn chair then tied the rope to his jeep went in
Got his pellet pistol sat down in the chair so with figuring at release he would float up thirty feet one or
Two ways to get down use the pellet gun shoot a couple of balloons float easily to the ground or if not
That you’re just about even with the top of the house surly you can get the house underneath you to
Jump Off on the roof now Larry wasn’t mechanical so anything to do with engineering was out what was
Is that wonderful feeling of being up there so he pulled the rope there was a slight difference in the
Expected feet not thirty but he shot up and leveled off at sixteen thousand feet ever feel your rope
Might be missing some length well if the thought ever crossed his mind about the pellet gun idea two
Things he was certain about he wasn’t bored and he didn’t want to shoot any balloons deceleration the
Other Way was not an option so what’s a not to bright Californian to do well besides holding on for dear
Life and freezing you added yourself into nature mixed bag nothing left to do but let nature do her thing
So eight hours later he drifts into the Los Angeles airport corridor of all people you would meet a pilot
Trying to land three hundred people calls the tower with this message I passed a man setting in a lawn
Chair with weather balloons and by the way he is at sixteen thousand feet and he has a gun to scrabble
F-16 would be too much even for California so good news for Larry they sent out just a Helicopter and
Brought the lame duck back to safety just another day in the state it’s hard to be surprised in but some
Still succeed
Jan 9, 2012
Jan 9, 2012 at 6:25 PM UTC
I mentioned before California is like cereal it is full of fruits nuts and flakes well add Larry to the list he
Found himself out in the yard in a lawn chair and the unthinkable happened he come to the conclusion
He was bored now that just won’t do not in Los Angeles so to solve the problem he dashed down to the
Army surplus store bought a bunch of weather balloons stopped along the way got a tank of helium
Brought them home filled and tied the balloons to the lawn chair then tied the rope to his jeep went in
Got his pellet pistol sat down in the chair so with figuring at release he would float up thirty feet one or
Two ways to get down use the pellet gun shoot a couple of balloons float easily to the ground or if not
That you’re just about even with the top of the house surly you can get the house underneath you to
Jump Off on the roof now Larry wasn’t mechanical so anything to do with engineering was out what was
Is that wonderful feeling of being up there so he pulled the rope there was a slight difference in the
Expected feet not thirty but he shot up and leveled off at sixteen thousand feet ever feel your rope
Might be missing some length well if the thought ever crossed his mind about the pellet gun idea two
Things he was certain about he wasn’t bored and he didn’t want to shoot any balloons deceleration the
Other Way was not an option so what’s a not to bright Californian to do well besides holding on for dear
Life and freezing you added yourself into nature mixed bag nothing left to do but let nature do her thing
So eight hours later he drifts into the Los Angeles airport corridor of all people you would meet a pilot
Trying to land three hundred people calls the tower with this message I passed a man setting in a lawn
Chair with weather balloons and by the way he is at sixteen thousand feet and he has a gun to scrabble
F-16 would be too much even for California so good news for Larry they sent out just a Helicopter and
Brought the lame duck back to safety just another day in the state it’s hard to be surprised in but some
Still succeed
Oct 25, 2012
Oct 25, 2012 at 6:31 PM UTC
"it's going to be your fault" she said.
"what?" I replied.
"your predestined choice of forced molestation,
that wish you don't comply."
"what you wear is not good,
the amount of all the skin.
one man might get the urge to look and then pull you in.
the slit in your back,
it gives skin no place to hide.
it will make him think,
'mm, she must be mine'.
your skirt is very short,
it will surly pull him in.
and he'll say these truthful statements,
while he does his deeds.
you need to think about your clothes
or you'll be begging on your knees."
as I stand there drowning,
in her morbid a words.
the thought came into my head
and then I got the urge.
I said right back,
"you say I must be asking for it?
if it happens, it's my fault.
his natural state is predator,
and his instinct is assault.
you say, my outfit speaks more than my words.
and you're surley right.
I wore these clothes because its hot,
I will stay comfortable through the night.
but not to them,
they think it gives them the right.
the right to say foul words.
'hey sexy', 'that ass', 'i bet you could get dirty'
these slurs of great disgust,
you say are mistakened for flirting.
once he sees some skin, you say
he'll no longer have a choice.
once he sees what he wants
he'll surley make his point.
now, don't tell me not to get *****
or to avoid a man.
tell the men to control their urges than to let it control them."
Jul 1, 2014
Jul 1, 2014 at 1:38 AM UTC
I
I greeted you, my inevitable day
In this shaky firmness of my hands;
Assuring me of my weakness; the languidity of my serene constitution.
The sky smeared with fright,undeed, and look, hark to how the sun closed the night!
This was but unpalatable dew, misty in its impatient greyness
Avidity for genuine sorrow and late confessions
The calm heart then wronged, and soon the war touched the light!
II
Beware of love, o silly hearts!
Loving thoughts, are indeed averse to relenting;
albeit they are always leading to smirks and destitution.
Release thy grains from yon grievous chain!
Spark thy wings, heave and bend!
Wear thy glee, ere any of the gruesome tears remain!
Shield thy mask with greater abhorrence!
III
O notions, fruit my doom and feed my sight!
From womanly misery I yet ought to emerge
and all its surly sleeves I ought to blight!
IV
O peace, fetch for me my untaught breath in vain
Keep me steady, ditch me not in the rain!
Tend me more, yet not my cheerful friend-
in pleasures whom thrives, in virtues was whom foolish!
Praising plaited hairs, swept amidst folded skirts.
Gruesome lies they carry, the finest they conspire to marry;
what a horrid, unalterable, evil concoction!
Yet pureness is the only that deserves awe;
virgins are a symbol of unrequited love, but tenderest affection!
However lonesome, hither and thither I shall bear this pain
Until my stern heart melted to love again.
Dec 19, 2012
Dec 19, 2012 at 7:38 AM UTC
Lady Winter
I.
When surly Winter sighs, her icy breath
Makes adults think of coming death,
Makes children think of falling snow,
Ice skates and sleds and away they go....
II.
Alone among her Sisters, Winter holds such power
To stop the World, to drift in Time, if only for her hour.
She puts the trees and fields to sleep,
Then covers lakes and land 'neath sheets,
And though she tucks them into bed,
Their sleeping form is of the dead.
III.
This Lady White whose frigid face
Turns from the sun with chilly grace
Has for herself a single duty:
The world to rest in icy beauty.
In the North, where'er she goes,
She dresses lands with icy snows.
In gowns of ermine stand the trees
White trains of down lie at their lees.
She sets the plain with crystal lakes,
And sugars hills with frosted flakes.
Where ever she in beauty goes,
The icy Queen her magic sows.
IV.
Strange sister of four Seasons,
Her face, at first, seems set in Death,
But we who walk out on her icy grounds,
Traverse a frozen pond or wander rounds
Deep into her forests fast asleep, know well,
We who stop to listen and to look can tell,
Life's certitude awaits the end of chilly Winter's icy fling.
(Congregation: "Even so come quickly, Lady Spring!")
Dec 14, 2011
Dec 14, 2011 at 10:14 AM UTC
Me.
I am much privileged in my own life.
I am the only born child of my parents.
I am loved by my parents and by my lover.
I am adored by my lover who feels truly for me.
Parents.
Their dear love is one among some of my privileges.
They could provide me with a lavish brought-up.
They now tolerate my being in love with her.
They know deep inside that she's the one.
Her.
She is the best gift in this moorland life of mine.
She got my mind's inner eye transfixed at herself.
She is a cute person who loves me as if she is loony.
She makes my life so beautiful and so is her beauty.
She definitely is a privilege to me but doesn't get it.
She surely puts up a surly face to my being busy.
She playfully ignores this fact and pulls my leg.
Together.
All of the entities are equally indispensable in my life.
All in the ascending order of priority I have told about.
All but yes, she often teases me with her cutest tantrums.
All of it I will never mind any of these mood swings of her.
Because.
My parents also bore mine when I was a kid.
My demands were all met just about anyhow.
My responsibility will grow after we get married.
My children-our children will also have their needs.
Aug 27, 2014
Aug 27, 2014 at 11:06 AM UTC
do you think by the time this poem ends,
you'll want to get some lunch and catch up?
because i surly do miss you
Jan 25, 2015
Jan 25, 2015 at 1:43 AM UTC
Its getting late and I'm running short of words to describe you
funny as though you're as tall and striking as a lightening bolt, majestic and bright as it as well. With your beauty and brains surly you could take over the world.
Not such a large height for someone who's head lies within the clouds, devising them into shapes for the ants to see. What that's? A bird, a plane. No, its a volleyball entangled of predicted rain strapped in a storm of fire from maddie's fatal hands.
May 15, 2014
May 15, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
Divest me in lowest twang possible
You're a virus ov benevolence
Clod dockets and nightly shrivels
You're Ideology's ravaged havoc
All slates ov mind embellish at one time
Scandalmonger, a repetitive meddler
I am, you are, a beast like endeavor
Two noddy's going rabid
To divulge and disclose; we're savaged
Trek of dearth and surly in combined minds
Withered, wizened, burnished, refined.
Nov 19, 2010
Nov 19, 2010 at 4:27 PM UTC
her morning pleasure occasionally actually exercised,
a substituted delight for gym-going work with Lulu exercised,
no man can, will ever, understand
the nature/nurture debate over,
in my mind resolved, nature, hands up and hands down
RR's^ query, is god dead,
no longer rumbles around in my head cause when he speaks,
I can't get a word in edgewise
what i did in the sixties, lost to time in memoriam,
especially some really bad poetry
but this gender differentiation
a matter that Aristotle dutifully, so wisely, philosophically avoided
there is no Socratic method rationality in what is just crazy insanely meiosis,
there is no comprehension of the essence of elemental genetic division,
like the NY Mets,
ya just gotta believe, or just accept
but from the other side of the bed
comes a surly, dry rejoinder, a gelled spike
*thanks to modern science,
why don't you come over to the
right side, maybe then,
you'll understand the true meaning
of pleasure
transgend your self,
show your willingness per the bible,
to be god's new and improved version of a human being*
So,
a pretty little, light A-line,
with a summer floral pattern,
a size 12, (20? ***
I,
will wear with great
human pride,
come June
Mar 12, 2017
Mar 12, 2017 at 11:20 AM UTC
There was a caterpillar that had no friends
She feared she would be alone in the end
She had all, but given in
She stayed in a trees
And hid behind the leaves
Until she ate them, or there was a breeze
She had become so very fat
All the other insects made fun and spat
Out cruel words, she no longer wanted life and that was that
But before she could eat the poison leaf, along flew a hunny bee
"Hunny child you just dont see
That one day your gonna fly like me"
She looked at him in bewilderment
Surly his brain was a little bent
Wings for her would have to be heaven sent
But she decided to hold on a little longer
Just to prove he couldn't be wronger
That bee's words she would often ponder
The other insects still showed their hate
The more they said the more she ate
She knew they was right she'd never find a mate
So she made a cocoon, to hide herself within
So she no longer heard the words that could condemn
What awaited her would be hard to comprehend
The bee seen the cocoon, and sat and waited patiently
He wanted to be the very first to see
At what a beautiful creature she had came to be
When she emerged the sun hurt her eyes
Many a day had gone by
The sun seemed way to bright in the sky
But then she got a look at her wings, they where gray
"Why didn't God paint them, why are they this way"
At the bee in disgust she shouted, "You should of let me die that day"
"But my lovely one, you are now a creature of the night
And will fly by the enchanting moonlight
And see many many wonderful sights"
"Besides my hunny chid they're wings
You can now fly to the heavens and sing
Your point of view will now change on many things"
"God painted your wings gray
So in the bright of day
Against the tree bark you can lay
And safely sleep the day away"
"God only picks the strongest
To prowl in the moon lit darkness
He only picks the bravest
That at night can help with the loneliness"
The Moth bent her head in repentance
She couldn't even finish her sentence
For she realised in that instance
The bee was talking about her transcendence
Mar 18, 2016
Mar 18, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
all i see now are the silent ruin
of words teeming with wisdom
in every trail. you are gleaming
in the moony boondocks,
Ibabá remembers you as you were -
timeless and ruminative,
pursuing the source of rivers.
our sublime versifier,
the crucifixes now tremble without
the fullness of your flesh.
each page is turned without
the hover of your voice yet
stills its resonant message in my mind's premises like redolent graffiti.
striding river-pace,
once in moonlit Orfeo
graced by your sibilant being,
leaving only the strongest of impression
on the surly couch, a toppled glass
of Shiraz remembering your attendance
leaving the clamor of the audiences
real to touch, elusive in thought.
before the war was the ever-present word, and after the fray was
the armistice of the Sun where in
humdrum Sampiro, your fire's genealogy
is in the hands of the muse!
idly go the hours, wading everlong past
Calle Herrán - the bells of Paco Church
tell in this imperfect hour
the roads where you once traversed,
travailed and perhaps beer-maddened,
putting a face in the metaphysical!
in your banquet i partake
the wisdom of your wine
and the reason of your flesh -
the gods delight in you,
o, Manila of all Manila.
Oct 2, 2015
Oct 2, 2015 at 2:05 AM UTC
OOO!
He is worried!
Again!
the Mr. Perfectionist.
It’s almost Carnival but
He hasn't yet got a mask
with specifics
outlining
his ballads
and jests
he
surly lists his bests
in two principle steps
of CAPS :
1)
* Feeds the Bats and
* Tempts the Charms
2)
* Cheap N Handy
* Quixotic but Scary
* Not too Trendy
and he cries
Yuck!
EW!
Husky!
What's worse than
a self-adoring pathetic bat
in my whereabouts!
I can't get the stink and shrill so I help him fast
'Yo what's the worry!'
-I say friendly -
'you need not hurry
cause I think you already are ready!'
-I continue enthusiastically-
'Here! Try this one
My top design
Custom fit chemistry
A truly NO Risk Recipe
and of course
Specially designed for you! '
'for you for youuu
to echolocate
such is an eye-gaze
for the half-blind
such is sound
a vibration that propagates
in ears and brains of pretty gulls
and of course
only for youuu'
- I sing loud a common bat ad just to stimulate
my client and continue- merrily explaining my serviceable recipe
*for 2)
Wear your white shirt just
...as always
the one I know
you know?
the webbed one
weaving grace
and don't forget to
iron it well this time.
*
*for 1)
Put on your true face!
I reckon then
and can guarantee
...as always
no one will ever recognize you .
*
In a flight he disappears glad and I hope he won't show up till next year
What can you do I say to myself and quote a encyclopedic fact about my client.
All things have a place, you don't really need to like them but these ones pollinate flowers and disperse fruit seeds and they are economically important as they consume insect pests reducing need for pesticides.
I say while I ventilate my head with an OM mantra and an incense stick
Bah what a stink what a stink...
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:34 PM UTC
There was solace in the quiet,
before you opened your mouth
And proved me wrong.
Like a hawk in a hunt, a fresh guard,
I held into my walls.
Surely they will accept me.
Surly they won't.
Black and white together, mixing into gray in a never ending spiral.
Long after you knew and hugged me a warm reassurance,
I told you, yet again, I have never been attracted to a man and probably never will
And you shot the bird out of the sky with your words of,
Never say never.
Jan 12, 2020
Jan 12, 2020 at 12:02 PM UTC