"surveyed" poems
I was in trouble
And oh boy did I know it
I came home drunk last night
the hangover showed it
As I crawled out of bed, headache splitting my eyes
I saw my wife with that "I love you but I'm going to **** you" vibe,
but she held it in and on her face a look of concern was her guise
I hurled for about an hour
then my stomach settled down
I looked for my wife
but she was nowhere to be found
I drank some water, and soon after hit the floor
before I slipped into unconsciousness
I saw my wife come through the door
I woke up, and took in my surroundings
I was in a dark , medium sized room
caged in, and the floor was concrete..
And in walked my wife, with a crop and a corset on that hourglass body, she looked ready for a pounding
I wondered.. what the hell was going on?
how did she know I wanted to try this...
when did I let it on?
She walked into the room, I was tied to the bed,
but before whacking me, she surveyed me instead
She walked slowly around me
My eyes drinking in her features,
She whacked me in my chest and said
Look here boy, I'm going to tease you
She slid the corset down, showing one ****** off,
I was now hard where I once was soft
She licked herself slowly
Me getting aroused all the more
I knew my wife was the experimental type
but even she didn't know what was in store
She slid those ******* down
My God she was so wet
She slid her finger inside and said
"Nope, you can't have this yet"
I shook with anticipation. Pleading with her through my eyes
She remained adamant and continued weaving an arousing web, all truth here, I can't tell any lies.
She slid my pants off my legs
And threw them to the floor
She got on top of me and yelled
today you're my personal manwhore!
with that I found myself inside,
bouncing on my cxck
I had never seen her this aggressive
it came off as quite a shock
After an hour and hundreds of welts later
it Appeared she was done with me
that's when she layed next to me and whispered
"Happy Anniversary"!
Dec 21, 2014
Dec 21, 2014 at 9:21 PM UTC
I saw you standing there
I know you cannot bear
With weary eyes and skin so dry
You looked down wanting to cry
You want to hide in unknown places
Kept running away from your fears
Covering up your ears
To the words you don't want to hear
Storming days suddenly passed
You didn't moved until the sunlight flashed
You looked up and surveyed the sky
Finally found a reason to smile
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 8:26 AM UTC
1670
In Winter in my Room
I came upon a Worm—
Pink, lank and warm—
But as he was a worm
And worms presume
Not quite with him at home—
Secured him by a string
To something neighboring
And went along.
A Trifle afterward
A thing occurred
I’d not believe it if I heard
But state with creeping blood—
A snake with mottles rare
Surveyed my chamber floor
In feature as the worm before
But ringed with power—
The very string with which
I tied him—too
When he was mean and new
That string was there—
I shrank—”How fair you are”!
Propitiation’s claw—
“Afraid,” he hissed
“Of me”?
“No cordiality”—
He fathomed me—
Then to a Rhythm Slim
Secreted in his Form
As Patterns swim
Projected him.
That time I flew
Both eyes his way
Lest he pursue
Nor ever ceased to run
Till in a distant Town
Towns on from mine
I set me down
This was a dream.
4.8k
777
The Loneliness One dare not sound—
And would as soon surmise
As in its Grave go plumbing
To ascertain the size—
The Loneliness whose worst alarm
Is lest itself should see—
And perish from before itself
For just a scrutiny—
The Horror not to be surveyed—
But skirted in the Dark—
With Consciousness suspended—
And Being under Lock—
I fear me this—is Loneliness—
The Maker of the soul
Its Caverns and its Corridors
Illuminate—or seal—
4k
my mind is a planetarium
where each memory is a meteorite
and every apology burns like a dying star.
enclosed in the vast celestial stretch of my skull,
planets tend to vanish without the courtesy of a goodbye,
but i'm just happy to have housed them for a little while.
my projector is faulty and sometimes,
the images i try to convey become obscured
("asteroids may be larger than they appear").
i can't help but speak in broken constellations,
and hope that you somehow understand
that i have nothing but the best intentions.
not to mention, i've seen a lot of visitors, though
none have ever stayed for long, after they've surveyed
that i'm nothing more than a bunch of chaotic galaxies.
i rubbed the collection of stardust and debris from my eyes
and to my surprise, found that you hadn't gone anywhere.
instead, you were there, floating through my solar systems.
you've got me orbiting around your finger
like the rings around the sixth planet from the sun.
i come undone a little more with every word you breathe.
my bones are made of moon rock, aching like cold craters,
waiting patiently for the radiant warmth of the sun,
or your breath, or your touch, whichever is closest.
the most stellar display of stars i have ever seen
are not in the belt of orion, nor anywhere within the milky way -
instead they are lightyears beyond, resting comfortably behind your lips.
- m.f.
Nov 26, 2013
Nov 26, 2013 at 2:44 AM UTC
*we are witness to atrocities
committed by regime
over its peoples
over time*
1.
we are witness..
shattering glass of reality arranged into chosen shard-feeds
like omni-gov surveillance into meticulous mind-grafts
spluttering eternal-stats for public mind control
spewing mini-truths of perpetual war raids
disillusionment of history forever rewritten
control supply-and-demand
create dark-cloaked dilemma and monitor shortage and famine
make-believe elements so well played to auto-frenzied latch
thinking is degraded and actions.. well, less said
2.
diligent and loyal yet harbour secret-hatred
feed visions stilted by politrix
deception and manipulation
propaganda is the oleaginous-game by wand-over-mind
totalitarian is the kingpin-holder of cards
and yet, who is really being played!
eternal marionettes on a conveyor-belt
can't even play with yourself alone
your **** your **** your every move..
watched - surveyed - and studied
by that ubiquitous-bulge eye you cannot escape
right opposite your low hard-bed
you're broken into popping-parts
that YOU won't recognise!
thoughtcrime-police is gonna accost ya
get up, comrade.. get UUUUUUUUP!
3.
we are witness
life-tube covered in darkened vapour-swirls
we are witness
children conditioned to watch their parents.. too closely
we are witness
truth so smothered, now re-fed by repeat-metaphor
we are witness
dictata.. dictata..
we are witness
austere existence in a tacky one-room flat
we are witness
subsist on black-wheat and imitation-repast
we are witness
regurgitate the party-dialect on and on and on
(after a while, we end up half-believing.. )
*only the clock which strikes thirteen
can smell the charred-reality
as leftover-truth is shoved
into incendiary obsolescence*
tick-a-damn-tock
and that would be..
one
S T - 26 sept
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 11:53 AM UTC
I sat on the dentist’s chair
With an aching tooth, feeling hell
The dentist seemed quite pleased
As he opened my mouth and surveyed
‘There are holes to be filled
And the plaque to be removed
It needs a few sittings
At the end, you’ll have a set of fine teeth’!
His gentle assurance was so comforting
And I thought my jaws no more have to suffer
The pangs and torments of an aching tooth!
He then, in a narrow syringe
Injected something into my gum
I knew a numbness creeping in
Until at last I felt a hard rock within
Now, like an expert work man
He began his rigorous craft
Loud machines began to boom
The chair got flattened
From 'verticality'
I got changed into 'horizontality'
And the overhead apparatus came down
Like an eagle swooping down on its prey.
With blaring lights blinding my vision,
I lay torpid as if my body was strapped
The doctor took out his steel and hammer
And started tapping and chipping
Drilling and boring
Though numb, I could still feel the pull and tug
The crooked forceps and pliers
Made all the nerves in my head irk
My mouth was filled with saliva
And I felt a sprout of blood inside
He stuffed some gauze and resumed his work
I wanted to yell, ask him to stop
But being gagged, I couldn’t utter a word
My pupils dilated
My lips quivered
My tongue got parched
I gasped for breath
With a mix of cement and sand (?)
He began filling and plastering
Scrubbing and polishing
Helplessly lying on the dentist’s chair,
I wondered
What whips and stings one has to endure
To end the pain and give the teeth a shine!
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 7:53 AM UTC
When you live a lonely life
Even the days prefer the night
Keeping step to the hearts off beat
On the often empty streets
Hate fills the kingdom that's surveyed
The innocent turn their heads away
We've come to expect nothing less
From the King of Bitterness
A chess match using ghetto pawns
As the procession rolls along
Passing by in time to thumb the nose
The Emperor that wears no clothes
Mark it down and save the date
No way is there to escape
A bitter pill adds to the bitter edge
For the King of Bitterness
Spread the wealth and take a bite
Promised anything you like
If they would look they'd clearly see
That you were born of royalty
Click your ruby heals, there's something wrong
No way will you make it home
Remember what your mother said
About the King of Bitterness
You've been stuck and you have bled
To the King of Bitterness
Lay down now you sleepy head
Goodnight King of Bitterness
May 4, 2014
May 4, 2014 at 7:58 AM UTC
In a tearing hurry, came the clouds
bellies fat, moods dark
They swallowed the moon
They chewed the stars
each one
one by one
Whole night the show was on
boom bang – fury & twang
When they were done,
I surveyed my ground:
dripping trees
shivering leaves
wet petals
twinkle eyes
an azure sky, and
One angry sun.
Aug 16, 2020
Aug 16, 2020 at 4:46 PM UTC
I travelled among unknown men,
In lands beyond the sea;
Nor, England! did I know till then
What love I bore to thee.
’Tis past, that melancholy dream!
Nor will I quit thy shore
A second time; for still I seem
To love thee more and more.
Among thy mountains did I feel
The joy of my desire;
And she I cherished turned her wheel
Beside an English fire.
Thy mornings showed, thy nights concealed,
The bowers where Lucy played;
And thine too is the last green field
That Lucy’s eyes surveyed.
2.4k
I straightened my tie,
my noose of choice.
I surveyed the nerves,
boutonnières,
cuff links and best men
dressed then stressed
over punctuality.
**
I am late in my white dress,
my unstained reminder.
I rehearsed the vows,
poses, held my roses
and had my ladies
in waiting,
waiting.
**
I wait at the archway,
stiff, starched and
looking rented
for the occasion
**
I wait for my turn
to walk the plank,
the aisle spans oceans
and I am unsure.
**
I am unsure
but it is too late.
She sees my face and
searching behind
her veil for sympathetic
shared fear.
**
I give my father a mechanic kiss,
I twist and face my future.
**
I smile and wince,
I take her trembling hand,
I find her eyes,
I see my future.
**
I smile and wince,
He takes my trembling hand,
He finds my eyes,
I see no future.
**
Jul 11, 2010
Jul 11, 2010 at 6:34 PM UTC
fed the birds
my monday. held out my hand,
and fed them mirth
from a lifeline pun.
blackbirds.
early morning
connoisseurs
i fed them
my monday.
all gone pecked. now, first suspect -
in a ****** of crows. i rose
from the damp. surveyed
the scene of the crime
and bled. no contest
nor are there ribbons given
even if you don't
want one. you'll find
another monday
with a stray
dog star... a crown
for a chipped
tooth.
it will always say " You shoulda' seen The Day Before...." then promptly -
plop on your stoop... and vaguely,
as if seen from three paces
behind stained glass...
Sunday sulks into view
like Dostoyevsky
belching "Hey Jude" backwards,
just strolling down
East, Main street
with an egg-cream
and a fist of
kettle corn.
soggy in his meaty paw
an earlier downpour
you slept through.
or maybe, this just happens to me ?
now then. birds fed,
i wandered off. biting my
upper lip to keep
Christmas in
my Edelweiss
grip.
left the birds a book called " How To Fly "
and they still flew
away.
Nov 6, 2012
Nov 6, 2012 at 10:41 AM UTC
I was so sure I'd packed it all
Double checked the drawers
And surveyed the shelves
two or three times
But I left a piece of my soul behind
Three thousand miles
in Pacific Time
Couldn't change it,
wouldn't try
I’d hoped
if time remained
maybe so could I
Sep 14, 2018
Sep 14, 2018 at 12:04 PM UTC
I had a seventh grader tell me, when I was in 5th grade, that things go downhill after 5th grade - that life doesn’t get better, it just gets more complicated. I’ve had years to mull that over and I have to say that in some ways his testimony was on beat.
As we start the second half of sophomore fall semester, I think I’ve reached stability and I’m accustomed to this year’s schedule and workload. I haven’t surveyed whether I’m faster or slower in this (see below), but now I know all the tricks - where to eat, which paths to take and what to carry. I have a firm rhythm that’s consistent and insistent.
“I’m finally on my schedule.” I commented to Sunny yesterday morning as we collided in our dash to get our shoes on.
She looked at me in confusion “You know we’re on week 8 out of 15, Ya?”
I was shocked, “I hadn’t thought of it that way,” I admitted as we stepped out.
It’s midnight and we’re going (Peter, Lisa, Sophie and I) to “My **** tonight (the dorm basement snack-bar). I took two seconds to splash my face with water and twist-back my hair. “How do I look?” I asked Peter.
“You’re attractive.. enough,” he said, “..I mean you fall within a bell curve.”
“You're almost 40,” I say, in the face of his non-complement.
“I’m 26,” Peter said, “You know it, and I have proof. You DO have some good points though,” he granted, while trying to drape his great, hairy, gorilla-like arm on me, “there’s your sparkling conversation and nice underwear.”
“I donated those to goodwill,” I lied, while giving him a half-gentle stiff-arm.
“You remind me of my parents,” Sophie says.
The tea (the best tea is scandalous). Lisa’s friend Baker dashed back to her room between classes yesterday. She’d forgotten the big paper she had to turn-in. It was a mad dash and passing a roommate’s open door, she realized that the girl was lowkey ************ Lisa, delighted to be an interlocutor in the matter, due to Baker’s overplus embarrassment, Lisa's trying to suggest next steps in a post-shock protocol.
Oct 28, 2022
Oct 28, 2022 at 2:30 PM UTC
Down the dusty road,
in tattered rags,
He came,
weary,
wilted,
and
withered.
Body bent with age,
bones sticking out of the flabby skin,
with a tremor
running down his limbs,
and with expectant eyes,
He waited at my doorstep.
No words came out from pursed lips
But,
in mute language
begged for alms.
I held his shrivelled hand,
helped him ascend the steps.
Like a child obeying it’s Elder
He sat on a chair in the patio.
The sumptuous fare, served before,
he surveyed with eyes
bulging out in utter disbelief,
and greedily devoured
every bit of morsel.
A rare gleam lighted up his face.
With hands folded in benison
He stood up and silently took leave.
I watched him stumble
along the country track
and fade away in the distance.
Ripples of joy stirred my mind
in ever widening circles
as, a pebble idly tossed
cause ripples in still waters
................
Over a random act
of kindness
idly tossed.......
Sep 7, 2016
Sep 7, 2016 at 4:40 AM UTC
#ክብረ ነገሥት
*Oh Sovereign of wisdom Solomonic,
forgive us. The wicked wax demonic.
Golden vessels fill with foulness
man is bankrupt, sold and soulless
Unsettling harbingers loom dystopian.
Sheba rises in dreams Ethiopian.*
Tested with questions, her spirit once gone,
occultic suggestions postponed her dawn.
(Six-hundred and sixty-six talents of gold
paid Nineveh’s rise as Messiah foretold.
Go read it in Matthew, obstinate sinner
You think He intends to have Satan the winner?)
Her ruins now surveyed by satellite
beheld on the screens of the Canaanite:
canals to expose, southern deserts to cross,
Eritrean legends of Prophet (and loss),
the Ark of King Menelik—Kebra Negast,
treasures of darkness presented, now past
have us checking those texts that worldlings despise
as we wait under dread Luciferian skies.
Break the sixth seal of the seventh scroll;
let the thirteenth angel spill the bowl !
(or smoke it up in the courts of Heaven
till ganja’s infinitude totals seven…)
Exhume Axum with the ****** of Marib.
decode the encryption on Adam’s rib
unearthed from some Antediluvian ravine—
Blast from the past: she explodes on our scene!
Seven oaths shall be sworn on her spectral beauty
(our Biblical transcendental duty).
The libation is mixed. Are we ready to swill it?
Beersheba? She brew ! Let us rise to fulfill it.
from sita to Saba fifth columns are ready:
Oh Sovereign — render their pillars unsteady.
For after explosions there’s mess to clean up,
and it’s worse than the horrors inside of her cup.
Apr 27, 2016
Apr 27, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC
as they
shuffled by
she told her friend
“i always look
forward to this
time of year
when the first
tinge of yellow
touches the leaves
with the contrast
between shade
and sunshine
a comparison
of polar opposites
where a gentle breeze
can chill
or relieve
one making you
appreciate the other
once it has gone”
i couldn’t help
but take note
of her poetic words
as i surveyed
those same trees
glad to see
swaying hues
of green against
shadow-dappled green
feeling fingers
of sunlight
still breaching
filigree tree-shadows
to warm the skin
of passers-by
while overhead
a pastel blue sky
mottled with only
staccato wisps
of gentle stratus
paint the vista
leaving thoughts
of the days to come
when this spectrum
will shift
and these colours
must change
Sep 24, 2022
Sep 24, 2022 at 7:42 AM UTC
The clueless rebel surveyed the situation.
It was a bitter chilly day.
She walked and talked unto herself.
As her being she took in hand.
An underhanded twisted year.
A year that could have been divine.
This rebel without a clue.
The weather changed.
Left in ignorance.
As last year dies,
She's knowing what she needs to do.
However, like the weather she is changeable.
Malleable and playful.
She tickles tigers.
She likes the reaction.
From at least a hundred,
unsuitable attractions.
Pretends to be a vampire,
******* souls from innocence.
While seeking unreal ideals.
Always out to impress.
In fact as the year ends.
She is no wiser than she was last year.
Memories in the dustcart.
Much beyond reprieve.
While once again another starts.
She continues sadly being deceived.
All these bright ideas of resolutions.
Conjured up from institutions.
The tears will roll at midnight.
To kick last year out.
She's the fool.
The one who seeks notice.
And hereby notice is given,
All change.
Well maybe anyway.
The spotty leopard.
Needs to find some stripes.
And maybe a backbone too!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Dec 31, 2013
Dec 31, 2013 at 11:19 AM UTC
A silhouette leaned back
Grey smoke distorted features demure;
Swirls riddled—smooth jazz syncopation
Her rouge lips cut through
The darkness.
She took a long drag on her
Cigarette, smoke rings evaporated
A halo around her.
Midnight blue eyes surveyed
The Bijou Café
Carpet pooled on the floor,
Blood soaked with wine,
Enclosed by onyx sheets,
The far wall a mirror.
A reflection of the souled and soulless.
Bar welcome strangers, friends,
The lonely.
Sharing drinks and memories
Vines intertwined customers
A perchance meeting;
Rendezvous of sorts.
Nameless faces and acquaintances
Dotted the room, a familiar skyline.
Lonely tower missing.
Smooth black fedora
Hearts sank ships as
Waves of embarrassment
Enveloped her; disappointment.
Crestfallen her eyes downtrodden
Soared with a door creak.
Black fedora entered,
Smooth—slick as oil
Eyes were hidden beneath
A veil of night;
Silence became him.
Hush fell on the crowd
As the shadow took the stage
Light pierced through,
Illuminating him.
Orbs locked
Reservation started to pass,
Voice velvet smooth
Played every heartstring
Notes of excitement
Tantalized her veins,
Pulse quickened;
Echoing every tempo change.
Music coursed through her being
Sensual; seductive
Notes caressed curves, valleys
Spaces in between.
Emotion—chord dependent
Voice penetrated skin
Music flowed through her.
A mountain peek high
Mind clouded—
Breath escaped her lungs.
Quiet murmur answered her comedown
An empty stage; stalwart eyes
Fingers replaced music
Lips brushed hers; taste—electric
Smile turned smirk; hollow presence
Musky cologne in wake.
Magnetic pull forward
Fedora exited
Midnight eyes transformed to dawn;
Abandoned beneath the awning
Familiar skyline flowed liquid.
Bijou Café
Neon sign loomed dark
Save for a letter
I illuminated.
Heart tendrils retreated,
Back to roots; betrayed
Tears turned to water
Liquid guilt—love died.
Fingers loosed
Memory;
Small matchbook of shame
Lingering of once upon a time
In the gutter; pouring rain.
Feb 19, 2010
Feb 19, 2010 at 7:56 PM UTC
A cyclist in a purple turban and salwar pants
whizzed past us as we trudged up the steep hills
of Arlington, Virginia
His gaze caught mine
just a starry
flash in the bucket
wordless soul communion
that said so much
Do you know what religion he is?
queried my hubby, David
"Sikh...I think" still reflecting
on our brief exchange
David and I were in town for our niece's wedding
and also on vacation
enjoying the sights and plethora
of attractions that flourish in the capitol
city, Washington, DC
As I surveyed the beautiful capitol
abounding with lush gardens, parks,
magnificent magnolia trees and
fragrant pink and white crepe myrtle
I couldn't help observing the rich diversity
of people and cultures working and living
here
"Where are you from?" I asked our taxi driver
"I'm originally from Ethiopia,"
a waiter in a restaurant told us
he was from Morocco...another person from Egypt...
India...China and so on…
USA has a diverse topography
heavenly mountain ranges, verdant forests,
fruitful farmlands
span outward to luminous blue shores
The racial, political, cultural diversity of our
great nation is what makes us so
unique and special
It's in our DNA, and literally in mine,
a real melting ***
All Americans have one thing in common:
our thirst for liberty and freedom
These words from the Memorial of Abraham Lincoln
are brilliant with truth and timeless with love:
"I leave you, hoping that the lamp of liberty
will burn in your bosoms until there shall
no longer be a doubt that all men are
created free and equal." ~Lincoln
Jul 24, 2016
Jul 24, 2016 at 12:15 AM UTC
A match was made in heaven
And in heaven lit a flame:
A love between two partners
Who you'd swear were both the same.
The love was so iconic,
Recognizable on sight,
Embraces shared between their eyes,
As hearts had taken flight.
The story took a sudden twist,
When lips of theirs did meet,
Time began to twitch around,
Jealous of romantic feat.
A thousand years then passed them by,
Without concern of wait.
The world had changed entirely,
Their lives of past now late.
No older were their bodies,
But all they knew was gone.
They found themselves together,
But a brand new world was drawn.
Without a soul to greet them and
Unsure of what to do,
A tender kiss was shared once more,
To see if it was true.
Another thousand years flew by,
Concerning both the two,
Whatever should they do from here,
When time was all they knew?
The man surveyed their setting,
Studied close what was around.
Then turning in, discovered
No solution to be found.
He took his partner by the hand,
Concern detailed her face.
Smiling, he sealed their fate,
Removed concern with grace.
Their embrace was eternal,
Their passion's timeless flame:
Two lovers caught in love-lock,
Seeking out the final frame.
Jun 9, 2014
Jun 9, 2014 at 1:22 AM UTC
Seeing the volcano from below
just another mountain
but this mountain
speaks of the earth disgorging
its molten guts
of lightning arcing
in ten zillion volt flashes
of God's terrifying grace
of geologic upheaval
that happened before anyone knew
anything about God
that happened before anyone knew anything
We were kids on a
long weekend
decrepit jeep pickup
camper shell over the bed
we stopped for an old Indian woman
and her son
hitchhiking
I remember the strange musky smell
of her
sitting by me
on the truck's bench seat
like food I'd never eaten
or a hand-me-down blanket
from the last century
We camped at Green Lake
and green it was
set out the next day
fully unprepared for our climb
But our young limbs
carried us to a precarious summit
the South Sister
nothing but sky all around
and dreams
distant peaks
the sleeping volcanoes
of the Cascade Range
stretching into the vastness
of north and south
Such peace
And here
now
I drown in
a deep web of tangled memories
Vistas I once surveyed
live and breathe in my mind
people I once knew
still whisper in my ear
though they are long dead
How do they live on?
Who tends these grass-grown graves?
Who speaks for these dead?
And where do these memories go
when we die?
Jun 3, 2016
Jun 3, 2016 at 8:19 PM UTC
why is your chest
red?
The man's eyes surveyed her body
reaching for her *******
covered with layers of used hands
Oct 27, 2011
Oct 27, 2011 at 12:35 AM UTC