"thievish" poems
Box fitted vans moving on the prowl.
Waiting for these kids in an easy take
Preteen gangster violence,
With your lovely daughter playing jail bait.
We're all thievish wolves,
All hungry for more, we're hungry for more.
So please tell me that this is under control.
As our sons sniffing the product you were forced to recall.
Please tell me that this is under control
while your misses is prostituting just to feel at home.
Please tell me that this is under control
While my darling little princess is lying tagged by the toe.
Our therapies are burning and our do hearts do swell,
Which has got us in love with these feelings, that we've never felt.
And I'll take these violent words as nothing more then a test.
Try to feed me please for this is nothing more then a crimson mess.
This nuclear family
Is decaying
Right in front of me,
Right in front of me.
Covered by the trace in the hallow moonlight, pack of wolves at our back.
Some one calls out in silence, are fresh killers what we lack?
We're ragged fools, just fear in the fold only to feel at home.
Our therapies are burning as our do hearts do swell,
Which has got us in love with these feelings, that we've never felt.
And I'll take this fermented world, right off my chest.
Then lead you to the ruins, for the better I digress.
Now forgive me, this is how the story goes.
Feeding in the innocent stripped to the bones.
Please tell me that this is under control
While your misses is prostituting just to feel at home.
Please tell me we are under control.
Swinging from the gallows, caught by the throat.
Jan 30, 2014
Jan 30, 2014 at 6:17 PM UTC
(Mark, xi.17)
Thy mansion is the Christian's heart,
O Lord, Thy dwelling place secure!
Bid the unruly throng depart,
And leave the consecrated door.
Devoted as it is to Thee,
A thievish swarm frequents the place,
They steal away my hopes from me,
And rob my Saviour of His praise.
There, too, a sharp designing trade
Sin, Satan, and the World maintain;
Nor cease to press me, and persuade
To part with ease, and purchase pain.
I know them, and I hate their din;
And weary of the bustling crowd;
But while their voice is heard within,
I cannot serve Thee as I would.
Oh! for the joy thy presence gives,
What peace shall reign when Thou art there;
Thy presence makes this den of thieves
A calm delightful house of prayer.
And if Thou make Thy temple shine,
Yet self-abased, will I adore;
The gold and silver are not mine;
I give Thee waht was Thine before.
1.4k
How careful was I, when I took my way,
Each trifle under truest bars to ******
That to my use it might unusèd stay
From hands of falsehood, in sure wards of trust!
But thou, to whom my jewels trifles are,
Most worthy comfort, now my greatest grief,
Thou best of dearest, and mine only care,
Art left the prey of every ****** thief.
Thee have I not locked up in any chest,
Save where thou art not—though I feel thou art—
Within the gentle closure of my breast,
From whence at pleasure thou mayst come and part;
And even thence thou wilt be stol’n, I fear,
For truth proves thievish for a prize so dear.
1.4k
I lost my tooth brush two days ago,
But I didn’t trace where it went,
But now I am standing at the patio
On the edge of the open balcony,
Beholding another wonder of the world;
My dog, which I named Jimmy James,
Is holding my yellow tooth brush in its forepaws
The Colgate toothpaste frothing its mandibles
It has inserted the brush into its jaws,
Brushing its teeth with earnest of man,
Brushing in and out, all its teeth
From incisors to canine, premolars to molars
As it artfully spit out the bloodied froth of paste,
It has now walked to the water tub, and ****** loose
The tub lock to open , water is now pouring out in a curve
My dog is tapping the water into its bucal cavity,
Behold it gurgles water in its mouth repeatedly
It spits out trash and repeats the humanly act,
It now hides my brush by stuffing it below the loose sand,
As it opens its mouth to flag and wag its long tongue
Breathing in a tremor to my sight of its teeth,
that are now milk white without a spot,
the success it only ekes on the thievish move
against my toothbrush and dear toothpaste.
May 26, 2014
May 26, 2014 at 4:13 AM UTC
Thy glass will show thee how thy beauties wear,
Thy dial how thy precious minutes waste;
These vacant leaves thy mind’s imprint will bear,
And of this book, this learning mayst thou taste.
The wrinkles which thy glass will truly show
Of mouthèd graves will give thee memory,
Thou by thy dial’s shady stealth mayst know
Time’s thievish progress to eternity.
Look what thy memory cannot contain,
Commit to these waste blanks, and thou shalt find
Those children nursed, delivered from thy brain,
To take a new acquaintance of thy mind.
These offices, so oft as thou wilt look,
Shall profit thee and much enrich thy book.
839
Here by night,
the sky shines in ghostly ways-
gray veils slither high,
cover up the city
seize every street corner.
Among the chants and shouts,
scattered hawkers and thievish plays,
Raval pleads for another day.
Its veins at some flat time
sputter one after another,
the Drab
tightly dragging their belongings,
or a brown cigarette
they eternally cherish.
-
Fence shudders from the court
awake sunken couples-
Head slightly tilted to the left-
through curtains of smoke,
she makes him laugh, lights another cigarette.
Her bronze skin glistens
in the dark sun
taunting from the window.
©2015 Alex Bex - www.alexbex.net
Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 10:21 AM UTC
It is in the nature of clouds to hang high in the sky,
To cover the face of the sun with arrogance so stubborn,
To twist hope and fortune of man with its power on rain,
To enter with a stampede in thunderous claps to humanity,
Cooling the spheres with its Sun fettering power,
Clouds come forcefully as if they will wane not,
They catapult the times into a frenzy of no measure,
Cloud of Omar Khayyam in the skies of Nishpaur
Showered town tremors in the arts of Arabia
Rubiyats and Rubiyats to a thousand fold,
Paving way for others in the English azure;
Shakespeare William the thievish bard of John
He stole the political papyrus of King Lear
From indolent European in the English Shires,
*********** lyrics and Pindarics in **** of Lucrece,
Until the times came to its unbelievable exit
From the stage reigned only by culturally mighty
At the glorious hamlet of Stratford-upon-Avon,
Just has his master cloud solemnly disappeared,
Into the Arabic death gardens of Omar Khayyam,
It is indeed the true nature of all clouds
To appear with flamboyant spirit of tyranny
But only to disappear later like tail of snake.
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 6:08 AM UTC
Thou art, of truth, a foe
Woe betide thee, oh snow
Once thy fall shall thaw,
Thou shall stand in awe.
When open wide, thy mouth agape,
In the sun, dyed, thy drape.
When, dripping down, comes the rain,
Thou, acting, a frown, shan’t feign.
At the thievish color of night,
Thy peevish color of white
Shan’t, shouting, rant and rave.
Thou, mounting, might give a wave,
For only a night there could be
Thyself to save ahead of thee
’Fore clouds quickly drift and sway
And under the blazing sun, left, thou lay
For alas I’m old and my hair gone grey
And there ahead of me, approaching, is the day.
Feb 22, 2015
Feb 22, 2015 at 8:23 AM UTC