"temperance" poems
Some say love's a little boy,
And some say it's a bird,
Some say it makes the world go around,
Some say that's absurd,
And when I asked the man next-door,
Who looked as if he knew,
His wife got very cross indeed,
And said it wouldn't do.
Does it look like a pair of pyjamas,
Or the ham in a temperance hotel?
Does its odour remind one of llamas,
Or has it a comforting smell?
Is it prickly to touch as a hedge is,
Or soft as eiderdown fluff?
Is it sharp or quite smooth at the edges?
O tell me the truth about love.
Our history books refer to it
In cryptic little notes,
It's quite a common topic on
The Transatlantic boats;
I've found the subject mentioned in
Accounts of suicides,
And even seen it scribbled on
The backs of railway guides.
Does it howl like a hungry Alsatian,
Or boom like a military band?
Could one give a first-rate imitation
On a saw or a Steinway Grand?
Is its singing at parties a riot?
Does it only like Classical stuff?
Will it stop when one wants to be quiet?
O tell me the truth about love.
I looked inside the summer-house;
It wasn't over there;
I tried the Thames at Maidenhead,
And Brighton's bracing air.
I don't know what the blackbird sang,
Or what the tulip said;
But it wasn't in the chicken-run,
Or underneath the bed.
Can it pull extraordinary faces?
Is it usually sick on a swing?
Does it spend all its time at the races,
or fiddling with pieces of string?
Has it views of its own about money?
Does it think Patriotism enough?
Are its stories ****** but funny?
O tell me the truth about love.
When it comes, will it come without warning
Just as I'm picking my nose?
Will it knock on my door in the morning,
Or tread in the bus on my toes?
Will it come like a change in the weather?
Will its greeting be courteous or rough?
Will it alter my life altogether?
O tell me the truth about love.
43.4k
Always walking that line
Always tempting fate
All these temptations calling me
I attempt to numb pain
Got the temperature rising
Know I can be temperamental
My temper’s ‘bout to unleash
Doing something regretful
A temporary escape
From two to ten on the dial
The temper-tantrum and screams
Like a tempestuous child
Perhaps a temporal shift
Like Anty Em’ on the farm
The tempest carries away
Ship wrecked alone I am gone
My template shows me the way
Temptress I can not escape
Contemptuously I have temperance
Finding tempo ‘til break
A temple shrine I pay tribute
Silently contemplate
Lord please grant me forgiveness
For my wrongs and mistakes
Jan 15, 2018
Jan 15, 2018 at 7:12 PM UTC
‘…. and now, here’s Rick with the latest Market news…’
‘Val, trading was very brisk today, with a number of influences
that set the market off to some defined trends and statements.
Of course, the Human Virtue Exchange always seems to rely
on the volatility that resides ‘between the ears’ as noted
by the veteran brokers on the floor, but the sharp ranges
of prices offered versus profit taking has set the bar
very high in the relative value of Basic Human Virtue.
Now to the numbers: Courage [WHOME], Patience [PP],
and former market darling Perseverance [GULP],
all varied widely today on news from Washington that
their value was doomed to fall in the light of the expected growth
of Persistence [IAM] which history has shown to be a marked drag
on just about everything. Outside of the self –efficacy bazaar,
old standbys Ambition [HVY], Curiosity [WDF], Industry [HAHA] and Temperance [BFD],
continued their free fall into uncharted areas of cost and return.
Some analysts feel these virtues could be a real bargain in the future
despite their history of poor performance. Could a comeback not seen
since collapse of the Protestant Hypocrisy Era be in the works? We’ll see as the lack of movement in the Kindness-Generosity-Forgiveness-Compassion Index [FARAWAY]
leads many to believe that the end of Politeness [UPYRS],
Un-pretentiousness [ME-ME], Self Control [NWAY] and Sportsmanship [LONGONE], may lead to a complete miss-understanding between casual market players and devotees to the cause. The ratios cannot lie.
But without a doubt, today’s big winner was Self Respect [YUP]
which jumped and amazing 40 points before active trading ceased at the bell. So people feel real good about themselves for reasons
that cannot be explained by the Ego File Indicator alone; this causes this reporter to predict that Naval Gazing [MOM] remains a ‘Hot to Trot’ stock fund
and the Vanity market is always a good bet.
Now, here’s Carl with
today’s Human Emotion Exchange report……’
Mar 1, 2013
Mar 1, 2013 at 12:19 PM UTC
#
*Souls embroidered with sweet sighs of passion
Musing of nights in lace & white satin
On a vista of flesh, flushed with desire
Riding the flames on a passage of fire
The beating of drums, commanding the night
To the rhythm of hearts, passion ignites
Wrapped in immortal flames of the sun
Burning together, two become one
Flesh upon flesh, a spirited dance
Welded by whispers of love, of romance
Temperatures rise in a fever of lust
Stoking the flames, ****** after ******
Riding the swell, in a race to the shore
Try to repress, but needing it more
Virtue be ****** in the rage of desire
Flames rise in hunger, higher n' higher
Charging the crest, temperance slips
Drawing the reins in a white knuckle grip
Crashing of waves unleashes the flood
Quaking the heart, and searing the blood
Spewing of flames in the crash of the tide
In a warm sheen of sweat, fervor subsides
Energy spent in the throes of release
Collapsing together, the story complete*
#
Aug 20, 2018
Aug 20, 2018 at 7:48 AM UTC
Drip yourself into a cup
Fill up your body with antiquity
Let the collagen insist
An allegory of Capricorn
Memories crystallised
Settled in
Forevers harvest
Insensitive
Misconstrued chemical
Collective symmetry's sin
A condition, livid
Fleeting in Human imagery
Ships break
Loop our tongued
Hands, tossed in Dramamine
Whittled in a succession of malleable fashion
Talent spilled spread in supper
Collate our atrophy
And drink from baroness
Flavours tarnished
Super-collider
Blood soaked in Gematria
A garden of totality
High brow comparison
Entitled in your vacuous stigma
Forever burning
In the lesser key of Solomon
28 daemon
Tessellation in trigonometry
Temperance towards an infinite
Champion of mind, complex
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 9:57 PM UTC
i hail from heat, heat
in the heart and in the home, in the head and in the heel of the
sword that swings for both justice and action.
i inherit this love, this life and these virtues like heirlooms.
i inherit this boldness from you
i inherit the air of a highborn lady, while not without the humility of a low born daughter from you
i inherit gentle hands of craft into fists of rage and fire that melt away sorrows from you
i rise and fall, for from you
i breathe.
unspoken it was passed down, and yet it stirs and whispers to me in my bones of
ancient thought and force,
passed down from kin to kin, from one blood to another of
temperance and will
that flow like tradition—
a book written on age-old sandstone pressed eons below the earth,
text mapped in bloodlines over a body, not alone. never fading.
you bid me to rise from dust and ashes into the woman of your forging,
and so with a kiss between my brow for
farewell and fortune
i may live with your light tucked into my heart,
because my inheritance lives within me.
Jul 19, 2018
Jul 19, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
Like an onion, I had layers.
And you peeled me away, one at a time.
One layer off.
You saw my favorites.
The food and drinks I crave for.
The wall paint I wanted for my room.
The perky dresses, nail polish, knee-high boots.
And the spot I always prefer to be- on the front seat.
One layer off.
You saw my hobbies.
The words I stitched together.
The stars that formed our zodiac sign.
The wallclimbing, badminton, volleyball.
And the guitar strings that strum our lullaby.
One layer off.
You saw my dreams.
The plane ticket to Paris.
The thrill of a bungee jump.
The candlelit dinner, fireworks, dancing fountain.
And the license as a medical physician.
One layer off.
You saw my strengths.
The smile behind the false judgements.
The tears I fought back with pride.
The temperance, confidence, adjustments.
And the self-love I have strongly magnified.
One layer off.
You saw my insecurities.
The missing dimple on my left cheek.
The pimples on my forehead.
The bitchface, fierce stare, strict walk.
And this prominently thin-but-tall body figure.
One layer off.
You saw my regrets.
The kisses I could have refused.
The friends I thought were true.
The false assumptions, unmet expectations.
And the trust I gave to the wrong person.
One layer off.
You saw my secrets.
The punches I had to take.
The bruises I covered with my sleeves.
The lies, frustrations, disappointments.
And the brokenness suppressed in my memory.
The last layer, off.
You saw through me.
The anxiousness escalating slowly.
The exposure feeling uneasy.
I felt stripped, explored, unguarded.
And in my nakedness - you had to choose:
To love or to leave me,
For who I really am.
Oct 27, 2013
Oct 27, 2013 at 2:49 AM UTC
There is pain in patience
We are no strangers to this
A man who lusts for a woman
Will lose himself waiting
A woman who waits in silence
Is screaming on the inside
We all feel this pain
In one way or another
A form of agony and distress
Longing for what we desire
Patience brings pain
And we have no control
We are afraid to act
So we sit in solitude
Our minds soon betray us
And the tears begin to fall
Frustration soon follows
And then all goes numb
I am impatient
Though I know I must wait
And when thinking of you
My spirit grows heavy
Temperance is my goal
But I fail each time
So I suffer in silence
And let time pass by
I’m longing for you
And it’s quite obvious
I know patience is key
But I’m impatient for you
-AJT
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 2:56 PM UTC
In the absence of temperance,
I indulge in you.
Submerging myself into the depths of your being,
With an insatiable thirst for your flesh.
Drinking your essence with my lips,
Becoming intoxicated,
Dominated by the power of your skin.
A servant to your body.
I worship you.
In the absence of temperance.
Jan 30, 2011
Jan 30, 2011 at 1:45 PM UTC
Luxuria (Lust)
Asmodeus demon of lust
carnal manipulator
****** captor
Castitas (Chastity)
Embracing virtue
honorable wholesomeness
not through one’s weakness
Gula (Gluttony)
The egocentricity
with which the Lord of the flies
upon us relies
Temperantia (Temperance)
practicing restraint
prudence to judge with regard
remaining on guard
Avaritia (Greed)
The Mammon demon
controlling the warmonger
with vows of power.
Caritas (Charity)
Crave unselfishness
give unreserved empathy
love and sympathy
Acedia (Sloth)
Deny grace and God
so evil shall become fact
when we fail to act
Industria (Diligence)
Fortitude is a must
persistence in conviction
zealous for passion
Ira (Wrath)
In its purest form
presents violence and hate
Satan’s fate
Patientia (Patience)
mercy to haters
receiving the grace to forgive
rewards are massive
Superbia (Pride)
Lucifer’s downfall
for excessive vanity
destroys humility
Humanitas (Kindness)
Sympathy without bias
belief without bitterness
inspire kindness
Invidia (Envy)
resentful passion
an insatiable desire
potent cause of dire
Humilitas (Humility)
think of yourself less
and not think less of yourself
don’t exalt oneself
Apr 6, 2013
Apr 6, 2013 at 3:36 AM UTC
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man of love. This love had to come from a God above.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man filled with joy. He exit the prison dancing, joining in with men, and women, and every girl and boy.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man of peace. Even if it took 27 years of ******* he refused to let it cease.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man who suffered long. He always remained with humility, even though his suffering was wrong.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man filled with gentleness. He wanted to teach mankind, to be nothing less.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man who produce goodness throughout the land. He believed to get this accompolished; he knew this fruit must stand.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man of faith. He made himself content serving his time; determined to do what's right.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man of meekness. He was not high minded, but encouraged people to grow out of their weakness.
When I see Nelson Mandela, I see a man who had temperance. He knew how to get his point of view over, while even giving you a chance.
Dec 8, 2013
Dec 8, 2013 at 3:18 PM UTC
Late for work.
That annoying person.
Errands, here and there.
Chaos.
Temperance.
Pressure...more pressure.
My head is spinning
Deadlines and challenges.
I want to give up.
I step outside to run from it all.
I am still seething with anger.
Silence.
Then I see your face.
Your hand in mine.
And everything just fade into the dark.
My sanctuary.
Oct 10, 2014
Oct 10, 2014 at 7:02 AM UTC
The way of the Spirit is...
Love, the Spirit's essence;
Joy, the Spirit's song;
Peace, the Spirit's rest;
Longsuffering, the Spirit's patience;
Gentleness, the Spirit's touch;
Goodness, the Spirit's manner;
Faith, the Spirit's attitude;
Meekness, the Spirit's strength;
Temperance, the Spirit's control.
©1981 Michael S. Davis
A Commentary on Galatians 5:22-23
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 1:12 PM UTC
With our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent
with blind zealotry they refuse to relent opposing our mergence
so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
As we share these moments and begin our physical ascent
be aware that they will not capitulate in calling for our penance
with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent.
Remember this simple covenant in order to circumvent
the condemnation of our actions as unforgivable flagrance
so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
In these sheets we have long forgotten the virgin's lament
because the silent weeping is drowned out by our cadence
with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent.
By our mutual pleasure we have earned their unrelenting resent
and we are endlessly castigated for our lack of temperance
so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
The cries of fanatics prove their opposition to be hellbent
they would prefer that we endure the torment of abstinence
with our passion all spent they would have us repent our consent
so when curing prurience leave one percent of passion unspent.
Jan 26, 2012
Jan 26, 2012 at 9:01 PM UTC
[Fanfare, obviously]
This poem should begin with the call of a bugle,
as is fitting for an ode of Braveheart Macdougal.
Children of Parklands, take heed and be wary,
as I relate now, in verse, a tale cautionary.
Benigna Murdie was a most virtuous lass,
blesséd with promise and a penchant for sass.
To peer pressure she was admirably immune,
and ne'er did she bow to the temptation of goon.
Nary a drop of ***** has e'er passed her lips,
save for politeness and church-mandated sips.
Yet even the mightiest fall-- what a pity!
(harder than I did that night in the city).
So I hope you all glean a moral from this,
and your interpretation does not go too amiss.
But all is self-evident, to quote Descartes,
so allow me to recount this tale from the start.
She hails from a country renown for their piety,
for their pacifist ways and universal sobriety.
The Scottish are known throughout the land
for their temperance of character and lightness of hand.
And our poor Bennigles was no rule-exception,
she subscribed quite wholly to this perception.
A more reserved and reclusive girl you've not seen,
virtually a saint at only nineteen.
Passed out on the couch, liquor was never the root,
only strain from the studying and academic pursuit.
A paradigm of virtue, a pillar of purity,
no “that's-what-she-said's” to compromise maturity.
But that all changed one day touched by fate,
when Rachel realized that hedonism's great.
She took to the streets to revel in her glee,
and legit nothing bad happened cause this isn't tv.
Alas, now I'm drunk and the screen is a-shaking,
perhaps of wine I should halt my partaking.
I cannot continue with this facetious ode,
as we all well know that this is a total load.
But I'll miss you, my Brit, and our shitshow nights,
our Australian exploits and your culinary delights.
Sorry I couldn't finish to detail your demise,
but perhaps I'll conclude after an Australia-reprise.
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 6:20 AM UTC
I had once herd a tale of both gooblins and goblins
that hide by the house on the hill full of robins
where no cats would lie
not a feline in site
in that case nor a horse and toboggan
If when the sun set
by your luck you'd have met
a most suddenly sense, you'll most likely regret
to inform that the norm is is most vital
a chorus recital while sleeping, the feeling is seeping
of course, he fears for the reaping
To come?
Is it done?
has it happened?
No third party captions
his captor
a mind full of rapture
to hear ever after
a rapping, a tapping
his own hands just clapping
the door doesn't move
but the grooves in the wall are expanding
these dreams so demanding
Demented dimensions
his body retention of fear and the queer
have him panting
gasps without asking
a sublime such as this
and the temperance of bliss
have the curtains been called
or is it all but a miss
guided ventures of vengeance
His soul but a remnance of courage
is left in the depths
and before us he slept
such a man who believes
in trees where the robins at ease
do enjoy such a breeze
That breath air in the room
where he lay quite awake
Till his wake
Dec 3, 2012
Dec 3, 2012 at 12:15 AM UTC
nothing's instantaneous
temperance a requirement
change forever targeted
til self becomes fragmented
heart an aqueous soluble
erstwhile deliquescent
puddled into pulp
taken out like trash
fitting for an adversary
malicious and malevolent
destructive to the starling
plucked and plunged to sea
so drown to suffocation
laudable attempts at termination
inundate your consciousness
using barrages of indifference
convinced affection's unattainable
death deserted and companionless
auspicious in my loneliness
asphyxiate to expiration
Aug 30, 2018
Aug 30, 2018 at 4:28 PM UTC
Bright child of the Tarot, a new age awaits you –
but not through the mazes you’re wandering in.
Your gypsy desire and clairvoyant excursions
are setting your beautiful brain all a-spin.
The dog at the precipice barks out a warning:
the FOOL, the MAGICIAN and PRIESTESS are wrong
Pay no heed to their signs and the omens around you –
let faith be your shield when the DEVIL seems strong.
JUSTICE, as blind as the HERMIT is *****
has seen that our TOWER is stricken and doomed.
The SUN, MOON and STARS in their orbits bear witness
as LOVERS in ******* to DEATH are consumed…
Egypt can’t help you – the CHARIOT‘s stalled
While the TEMPERANCE angel was mixing the drinks.
The EMPRESS (a tedious feminist) preaches
an upside down future, the HANGED MAN thinks…
Though the WHEEL almost crushes you turning this way
And the staff of correction has battered you hard
I am sure you will make it, if only you pray
to the sovereign elector who holds every card
for a ray of redemption to light up your way.
Let the major arcana now bow and acknowledge
as JUDGMENT is sounded and shatters the sky
that righteous and just is the blessed Redeemer
who loves every lunatic card-addled dreamer
like you and like me. Therefore hear as I cry
that the WORLD in its fulness can’t harbor His love –
nor the heavens within nor without nor above…
May the HIEROPHANT‘s dynasty wither away
and the EMPEROR‘s scepter be broken to shards
as the breath of God’s Spirit comes into our world
to reveal the true STRENGTH of your house made of cards.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:50 PM UTC
My heart is a boiling cauldron stewing with
A pinch of kindness,
A sprinkling of hope,
A dash of hate,
A gram of generosity,
A dram of charity,
A tablespoon of despair,
A measure of temperance,
A teaspoon of patience,
And a shake of faith.
Now, simmering on the element,
I can ladle out bowls of love.
Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 12:02 PM UTC
Maybe it was fate in the threads of that
skirt as short as temper and temperance
that ended the ellipsis breathing.
A dancer needs an answer
on life enhancers, dear romancer.
Your smile was more than good enough.
I drank of it, the cup of Christ that turned
my blood into whining moments of
insecurity.
Call security, you say, making the call on
what I am because I am transparent,
transdimensional, traversing the bridge
of your nose with my high-risk eyes.
You say that I am, and they cry.
As your hands ticked at your clock-click keyboard,
I waited, passed the time wondering the
difference between naive and navel.
Harm came like rain in winter, the words
of Zephyrus slipping from between those
amber lips, lithe on naked fingertips.
You take the names of gods in vain,
into your veins, let them convert only
the white blood cells. You'd crucify
me for vanity.
You accuse the recluse of abuse,
and it suits you, tailored because
hatred sized you up the moment you met.
The orchestra disbanded, the buds of May
have yet to burst, yet to blossom like you
say you always will,
but the spring in your step when
you walk away from the last word
tells me more than the chirping birds
nesting in your hair.
You remind me of Paris
on the walls of Troy,
thief of hearts and fool indeed.
Bringer of fire, brander of hell,
but only because you were already the
Tartarus Employee of the Month and
enjoying Elysium.
This is the
beautiful mystery
undone as her clothes and
naked as the day Rosemary Matron gave her
to the world.
This is the beautiful mystery
returned to voids as tangled as her hair,
the nonspace between the curls hiding
secrets and conviction.
This is the beautiful mystery
concluded, all the movements of
her symphonic body no longer to allure.
This is the beautiful mystery
answered, the riddle of the Sphinx
leaping from the pillar, a killer
not quite so strong as her eyes.
This is the beautiful mystery
laid to rest, buried alive in a life discarded.
This is good-bye.
May 2, 2014
May 2, 2014 at 9:42 AM UTC
*I wish so hard that uou would just turn around and
spark my heart
light the fuse that explodes the suns stars and moons
from out of my tempered heart,
to give a word spoken in that one way,
to touch with that delicate intent
to reach for me
and fight for me
and pull me away
from these empty phantasms
calling to my ***
release me.
Open me up to the universe
and let me explode with with mystical madness
let me paint with colours the endless sky
save me from this fortified heartened mess
My love, light me with your fire!
The one that she brings back alight.*
Nov 24, 2013
Nov 24, 2013 at 1:34 AM UTC
Believe what you want to believe
there is no temperance or virtue
they will break your heart
they will only hurt you
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 12:59 PM UTC
Shall I compare thee to a midsummer’s day?
No I shall not
For thou is nothing like it
Thou’st temperance is nothing short of fair
A summer’s day is hot and vicious
But thou’st soul is of utmost gentility
A sweet cool temperance is thous heart
Thou is more like an autumn afternoon
With eyes the color of the clear blue sky
And temper of the soft cooling breeze
Thous beauty’s only competitor is the changing leaves
Unique and changing
Vibrant reds, greens and yellows that each tree holds
The warmth of the sun is thous love
A love that only I receive
That warms my own soul to the heat of the burning hearth
Where we lay in passion and love
For if I were to compare thou to a midsummers day
It would be an insult
Thou is more beautiful
Far more fair
Thou is like an autumn afternoon
With eyes like the sky in the clear afternoon
May 9, 2012
May 9, 2012 at 4:22 PM UTC