"suss" poems
Where in this life can one find
A golden heart, a heart that's pure?
A conscience that, with Peace aligned,
Can make our faith in Love assured?
Can it be found in modern man?
His search for meaning in Degrees?
In knowledge he relies upon
To cure the sickness... soul's disease?
Is it found within the mind?
The place where one's sad past resides?
Whatever will the doctors find?
Suss out the place where conscience lies?
Is it found in shifting stars?
In charts where moons and planets turn?
Can one map out this heart of ours?
Is our fate there? Assured and firm?
Is religion e'r the answer here?
Or, once more, a source of pain?
A source of strength or source of fear?
Should we search on once again?
For 'tis not the things we think,
Our pondering philosophy
Nor is it in our darkest link
With a past of misery.
It is not in ancient scrolls
Writings of the stars aligned
Nor is it works in laws of old,
A path of "goodness" wending. Blind.
It is within the heart itself
Where the Spirit has its place.
Where the Word of God Himself
Has given us amazing grace.
His heart, more pure than gold unearthed,
He walked with man, yet was alone,
Who has an estimate of worth
Of our High Priest and Cornerstone?
Abiding in a heart of grace
That's where purity doth live!
You are looking in His face,
Behold, in persons who FORGIVE.
SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014
Sep 20, 2014 at 12:08 PM UTC
Sweet lips encrusted in sugar from the hot doughnuts at the steam fair.
Baked in the dusty sunshine of an August afternoon in North London.
I would roam these streets from childhood into adulthood,
Drinking £2,50 wine at bus stops only to get thrown out of the pub for illusionary bathroom shots
Our real crime? Being too young.
Since then, i have drunk Spanish manzanilla in an old tobacco store room
Transformed into a house where wafts of old book smell mingling with the scent of baked terra cotta and lemon trees sweeps down dark corridors revealing hidden gems of traveled souls.
Where there are streets that belong to Phoenician women , Arab traders , Christian crusaders and now the Spanish folk
All these names we go by , yet still human we stand
Up on roof tops, smoking sneaky roll ups to the elegance of storks
Building nests on church domes and castle walls
Monuments to remind the future
Graffiti on the natural landscape , the ruins read " we waz ere"
From shores of the Atlantic to shores of the Atlantic
Brooklyn rises
The night bus to eat pizza alarmed me
How were the buses so different ?
London's told you where you were
New York's Made you suss it out for yourself
In the company of a Father i hardly knew and the Mother of my new sibling
Child ,
Who will you become ?
Shaped by the contrast of your parents skin , your curled hair yet to emerge from fresh formed follicles
Rest easy ,
This world Ain't so harsh
I found God at the bottom of a bowl of noodles
Simply sitting there , lazing about as i licked my lips of the residual chillies and sugar
I deal in the order of paradoxes
Born by the sea only to grow up in the 'so called' luxury of the cities jungle
Although, resting now in the moon soaked mountain air ,
no city can compare, to the fragrance of flowers that bloom and scent only for those who brave the night
I used to be afraid of the dark ,
Now i make love with it.
Jul 16, 2013
Jul 16, 2013 at 3:26 PM UTC
I moved in with Mr McGoo , he seemed a pleasant bloke
a bit chatty for one but then beggars cant be choosers.
He gave me the guest room and a skeleton key and
a King James Bible. He left , mumbling something about an
Optometrist's appointment as he stumbled through the door.
The Flivver coughed, spat and rattled.Mcgoo was in control
and of he roared away still mumbling about pork bellies and such.
Herky jerky relic with a hurdy gurdy horn.
The winding stairs led me hither so down the rail I slid
In search of McGoo venture. To suss where the safe was hid.
Rumor has it that He struck it rich one day and promptly
sailed west and bought the House of Divine Pleasures
overlooking Frisco Bay. Who knew.
As luck would have it, he forgot to close the safe so
there it stood wide open a square hole in the southern wall.
The Standing Shiva glared at me his arms like deadly serpents
One named Beckon the next on Call. The other six arms bristled
with bronze and iron death.The Shiva winked his middle eye and
tears streamed from the other two.
The safe still hung wide open McGoo was such a bounder.
He knew me well and he could tell the weakness in my soul.
for he and I had broken bread and severed heads in youthful
days of yore. He knew I was a scoundrel and a thief.
The Shiva had a weakness for women and the drink and
him with eight arms and such became to be a bit much at the
pleasure spot in Frisco. He had to go. So
I turned and returned from the liquor cabinet a bottle of
McGoo's best bathtub Gin in tow. The Shiva came a running cross,
a smile a mile wide drooling. With arms outstretched, boy he could fetch.
Could not hold his spirits though. Never could. Out cold in no time flat.
The safe gaped open like the grave six deep.
So. I walked up slowly to it and strained to look within
There sat old McGoo's ear trumpet and spare glasses
a handful of rain checks stacked neatly in a corner.
Along with his last will and testament written out in Braille.
Just then I heard the Flivver pop. I had to stop.
close the safe. Empty the flower vase on Shiva.
Up the stairs I bounded. closed my door and started
Sleeping.
Oh McGoo , you've done it again.
Dec 8, 2012
Dec 8, 2012 at 9:51 AM UTC
Lula-bye don't you cry
birds are chirping
sounds of your voice
they hear you sing
a tune of a voice
a Lula-bye don't you cry
someone will come soon
mean time
birds at the window
gaze through the window
see the tiny infant
cuddle up in the blanket
what is the tune
infant is singing
is it speaking to what it wants
she or he
maybe
hungry
or
thirsty
mama will be in
soon to hear your tiny little voice
crying away
a melody for
mom
knowing
she or he
is
hungry
thirsty
need of attention
of love
by a mother
hugs of love
by a
mother
is very over whelming
to how the comforts
a
infant
to suss
back to sleep
but first
the
mother checks
infants
before
she
lays
she or he
back to sleep
sing away
the Lula-bye song
comes in many ways
to understand
an
infants
cry
is knowing
the sounds outside
by many chirping
birds
is the
praise to hear
by the infant
it self
knowing
the cradle will rock
calm down the baby
back to it's comfort
a tender little kiss
by a
love
by a
mother
who settle the infant
by a gentle
little rock
back to sleep
until the baby
will cry
a
Lula-bye don't you cry
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 4:04 PM UTC
Stinking Thieves and Degenerates thus proudly declared
We will drive you paranoid, give you ******* brain cancer
We will put hot things in your head, head lice they blared
We will plant dissenting seeds in your mind by our passers
Chatter and natter with toxic germination brain furrowed
With poisons, fears and doubts we'll polluted your mind
We are the majority and we'll recruit followers in numbers
Build a pyramid of lies and hassles to hound and down grind
One tell ten and onwards, chinese whispers makes you to wonder
Peck like vultures at your life with harassments that's unkind
In our putrid pond, caves and gutters a Grass is what you are
Goody shiny two shoes who stays aloof thinks he's better than us
Whistle clean, no crime or stains, how pompous, how you dare
Evil and destruction is our wont, purity is anathema go you suss
We'll sling mud, blacken you, weaken you and lay you bare
Go call your Jesus to save you, see if he dares tussle with the pack
The ******* cemetery is full of Saints who we've offered free rides
Showed them the Hell we make for good people before we wack
We'll get in your head and mind and trounce your soul with hide
We are knaves, criminals and reprobates and we have the knack
Yes, we burgled and stole from you, that's our trade, what we do
We are criminals not ******* Mother Teresa saving the poor
You work hard to acquire, we work hard to acquire, isn't it so
Then you chose to grass us up, ruin our trade and shut our doors
see what happens to upright and legit, jobless, lonely and broken too.
Hahaha....hahaha.....hahaha.....next!
Brother watch out, it could be you..............
Sep 20, 2018
Sep 20, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
Taking Care of Body Parts
Take care of the body parts.
All the same, remember that
Most of what is going on,
Is going on inside you.
Organs, blood, I don’t-know-what,
Brain, realms therein.
All in-, invisible.
Cause encased:
To be addressed.
Take care of the body parts.
They show.
It’s nice and comfortable to know
they work,
And more than that:
A pointer signal to research
The itch that doesn’t cease,
The lump or bump, the crease
Here, there or anywhere.
Of course take care,
But find what’s there -
And not.
Fix the flub on neck and throat.
Booboo unattractive,
But beware, take care and ‘suss it out’.
Remember,
No appendage or a member
Is the issue.
It’s what’s going on inside
That describes the living you.
Taking Care Of Body Parts 3.22.2017
Circling Round Yoga; Nature of & in Reality;
Arlene Corwin
Of course!
Mar 22, 2017
Mar 22, 2017 at 1:21 PM UTC
the fails the falls actual trips
on the pavement
flat out in male heat whimpering
commandeered by mating itches
you trace the pattern pursuing your needs
you've probed the city beds
for the love song some tremor of heart
but it becomes more akin to research
lurching through the 'feeding grounds'
too many 'successes' and some hard 'romantic' hurts
it becomes numbers
and used condoms skinned off your member
you do that long enough
and you've become something criminal
you act the brag call it 'throwing cock'
and imagine it 'the glorified hunt'
your discourse with girls
power toward vital recitals that 'score'
toss out your heart and suss out 'weaknesses'
(the same weaknesses you loathed
in your own beginners wounds)
before long you've become a bored and pushy criminal
never quenched
chasing the young with vile deceit
not even a shower between each 'victory'
you daren't bring them to your place anymore
taxi cabs have your address flagged
send up verbal flares
to any potential fares
with you a daring destination
***** lair of aggressor ego
mister 'never takes 'no''
****** predator
Jun 12, 2025
Jun 12, 2025 at 6:20 PM UTC
The public debate
a political **********
reminds me
why I hate.
But that's Eton and Harrow not
Toxteth or Jarrow.
I leave the politics to them,
the Southern gentlemen
Up in the shires where men walk on tight wires
and dance to a different song is
where I belong,
from the Midlands to the Tyne where
they drink beer and leave the wine is
another place in time
a place for me.
And while Atlanta burns the gentlemen shall all take turns to **** upon the fire.
but when the hands of 'Ben' unlock and count the votes there'll be a shock when some old lady gets the keys to number ten,
we all remember them old days, the three day week, the hide and seek, the suss', the stop and search, the powers that interrupt, corrupt and end in a debate,
a state of the nation more infiltration, less liberation, more ************
the public schools have fooled us all,
we're ******* but we don't know it yet
we'll get the letter in the post,
the most that we can hope for.
May 5, 2015
May 5, 2015 at 4:06 AM UTC
I’m in a contest I can’t win
Or even come in second.
My bird has flown from the streetlight arm
And taken promise with it.
Another lands and then departs
To mock my hopeful prayers
The sky teems with symbolic fowl
But I can’t suss their meaning.
A big one flew straight over me
But I can’t read its message.
Was it promising good health
Or telling me it’s sorry
That I’ll only get just what I have
To get me through tomorrow
And if I am not strong enough
The game will then be over.
Why are birds the messengers
In answer to my pleas
They send me signals I can’t read
And I walk on in darkness.
ljm
Apr 29, 2025
Apr 29, 2025 at 2:02 PM UTC
what i would tell you about the posies
that gather around
when they overhear my voice
calling out your name,
none would say the same.
for them,
caroused near the streams
that few perennials are but discerned;
springtime only passes by,
and then they are gone.
but how are they able to suss as such?
when these rosebuds
unlatch themselves
only when you are here?
Apr 15, 2020
Apr 15, 2020 at 1:33 PM UTC
Do you really know who you're talking to?
When you chat on the internet
When you play some online games
It's like playing 'russian roulette’
You think you're talking to a youngster
But it could be a grown-up
Hoping for a pic of you
Taken in close-up
They'll chat to you and suss you out
They'll flatter and cajole
Even though your mum and dad
Have installed parental control
They may try to groom you
And arrange for you to meet
We need to teach our children
To be far more discreet
To never disclose where they're living
Or where they go to school
If they have serious misgivings
To tell a parent is not uncool
The internet can be great
Helpful information it can provide
Don't leave it too late
In an adult you must confide
Be vigilant, keep yourself safe
Don't keep suspicions inside
Report suspect net users
Don't give them time to hide
Jan 28, 2017
Jan 28, 2017 at 3:22 PM UTC
you and i
we hate cliches
just another thing we have in common
another amongst the many, niche
shared interests that broaden
the connection
between us two
i fancy myself a writer
you used to teach english
so both of us cringe when hearing advice
like "love is blind" given to someone in relationship anguish
and that's why it pains me to be the inciter
asking for communication so precise
having to risk looking foolish
or even losing you completely
as i look in your eyes and say to you
"so... what are we?"
but as much as it pains me
uttering a phrase so trite
what would pain me moreso
would undoubtedly be suffering through another night
of trying to suss out what's going on in your head
or falling asleep alone, again, and thinking that i would be better off dead
set against the notion of losing sleep
over a heart that simply is not mine to keep
so i take a breath and i steel my nerves
to summon the courage to ask for the love i deserve
May 4, 2019
May 4, 2019 at 2:08 PM UTC
Pull "The dog says: 'Bark'"
Pull "The cat says: 'Meow'"
Pull "The human says: 'The human says: 'The human says: 'The human says: 'The human says: 'The human says:......
The human says: 'I can understand that.'
Sternly command that.
shear and plow and smelt and can that
I can make a plan
to catch and **** and roast and feast
on that hard quill and bristle beast
And I can stain his image on the living rock
no, not to mock
But to remember what feats we drew
up from ourselves
As the javelins flew
My hands are clever
They chip the stone, and scrape the wood,
and wind the sinew
My tongue is cleverer still
My words are the creeping shadow of my thoughts
And just as a shadow is drawn along behind,
and stretches in the late dying sun
And snaps to attention in the noonday swelter, to heel, obedient
My words precede me, and linger behind, and snap to my side to attack
And defend
And manipulate
For well you know, dear reader
That words move men to move mountains
They can drive him to brave the tusks and teeth
And reward him with praise, as the fire flickers against portraiture
Of a hundred beasts
Deadly, proud, roaring
And in the end, delicious.
How splendid am I
To suss out basic truths
From straight-line scratches
In the dirt
I can learn the rules
of all that ever was
And to learn, is to understand,
is to become unfettered
I can cleave, dissect, ***** inject
And figure it all out
And learn from a loosing bout
Every monster brought low
will be investigated
To see how we can end him easier
Until the last monster
Is man himself
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 9:45 PM UTC
Wake up and smell the coffee, focus as the pan flips,
Time for the rat race and its monotonal semantics,
Suss out agendas - get ahead of the mind tricks,
Brush over simple truths with pointless lies and politics.
Another year gone - stale memories as the frost licks,
Dignity diminished, allegiance pledged to bosses,
Anticipating failure as you organise your post-its,
Institutionalising life, leaving no room for chances.
Clutching at a purpose yet defeated as the clock ticks,
Finding closeness in distance and solace as the storm hits.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 3:33 PM UTC
In the before, before we ever were
We were the primordial
Till our ascendant transitions
Overtook our **** poor positions
On the rearranging food chain
When we changed to five fingered beings
With high octane ape brains
Transcending our vocal limitations
With new sonic imitations
A long lineage lining up
For one improvement then the next
Rising with each step on the DNA stairway
Loosing and gaining, gaining and loosing
Till, organs become vestigial
And even we cannot suss out
Their original purpose
We barely know the steps
To this historic dance
Just taking each adaption
As a matter of chance
Till tired tangents separate
Grow and aggregate
A billion years finds us here
Stewing in fear of
Our own irrelevance
Not knowing that by growing
Such creative brilliance
We have discovered
Our own non-magical miracle
Twigs sprouting leaves
Protein powered trees
Our heritage ascending to the state of
Such a prodigious poetic primate
Apr 5, 2016
Apr 5, 2016 at 10:02 AM UTC
(So few realize the power of words
or is it my ability with words that confounds?
I am a talented man
even so a Pretender
I'll bring you over to my side
until you suss it out for yourself
that my side
is the last place you want to be)
Seven short stanzas for you to get lost in
you could breeze through in two minutes
you could get lost in my thoughts, spend half the day
lofty as they are, I laid them out just for you
swinging the bulky mallet of my cynical opinions
I'm sure to thump your cranium at least once or twice
before you find that word that stands a fortress
between what you've read and who you've been
when you'll take your own ****** mallet
and tear it down
What will you find when the veil has been torn?
more sneaky words
misguided snarky sentiments
you're fascinated by my judgment of divinity
though those words are fragile, practically meaningless
you see something much more sinister
the Pretender cannot deal in sincerity
nets for brutal fishermen casting lines to men
The Pretender can't play by the rules
he doesn't have to
he notices the list of "weak" words is almost as long as the list of "strong" words
somehow he isn't bothered
knowing full well that his purpose has been accomplished
The abstraction is bad/cliche
the Pretender should be showing
as opposed to telling
I'm telling you
it's a lost cause
You saw 37 lines with only 5 stanzas
I'm *******
Scared?
Aug 28, 2016
Aug 28, 2016 at 12:48 PM UTC
I am broken bruised used up body
You are an empty ruse
Used to suss me out
Fork in road tongued snake
Eating up all the leftover soul goodness
You can squeeze the life out of me
Smiling up at you grateful
My fallen angel Prometheus
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 4:49 PM UTC
DARK FOREST
I am the dusky woods.
Deep darkness is my core and zest.
Dark forest, someone's life is happening there.
To get themselves lost is there only fear .
Everyday i see huge fire flying in the air suss !! its the fancy imagination.
Carved is someone's own creation .
Hue winds are frilling around .
Neon is the world round .
S s s !!hey !! I m there in million colors , i m there in every imagination , i m there in deep sea , i m in you .
To get me there are only few.
If you get that dark, deep forest in your core Dancing is your inner being in me, its the addiction of nature trance.
As , THIS CREATURE'S SOUL IS ADDICT OF NATURE TRANCE .........
Sep 4, 2017
Sep 4, 2017 at 2:04 PM UTC
I don't know what to think no more
Being with you makes me wanna Soar
Through the sky,
come on baby, please don't lie
to me, I got this under control
You plus me, that makes us whole.
I got this relationship,
trust me its been a grip
since you and me got the time to think about this future
we been dealing with it, yes you were
you were saving this future for the both of us
come on baby, lets discuss
how we gonna be together
for ever and ever.
This future is in our hands
we not gonna let our future be decided because of all these demands
that we're getting from those around us
come on, we gotta adjust
the time we have together
its lighter then that feather
over there, just floating away
make this future all fuzzy and grey.
But I know us,
we don't got no suss,
we gonna be together forever baby
because I'm your one and only on a daily.
May 28, 2021
May 28, 2021 at 10:08 AM UTC
Lungs now constrict as the strength flees my knees
And I drift through the years on antiquities breeze.
Visions so vivid, the present dissolves
Till I’m standing in memories, fully resolved.
I’m drunk in a dorm room, surrounded by friends,
Not knowing I’ll never be with them again.
We revel and toast the delights which await,
Until the dawn breaks and we’re forced through the gates.
Impaled by the arrows of numerous clocks,
I fall through adulthood and beg time to stop.
A day’s now a decade, I’ve nothing to show
For the years that I’ve wasted not chasing my goals.
I stumble through life like a drunken old coot,
To numb to suss out the dregs from the loot.
Scenes spiral out from my blind inner eyes
And dissipate swiftly as dreams become lies.
Snapped back to the present, I stare at a screen
And continue my work as I hear my soul scream
Feb 14, 2025
Feb 14, 2025 at 1:15 PM UTC