"tolerates" poems
Masters of the Universe,
tender me thy resignation,
if but for
a day,
a millennia,
no matter how measured,
any being,
you, purported supreme
or otherwise,
are tired in ways
hard to comprehend
*tender me
thy responsibilities and dilemmas,
have studied your resignations,
solutions that provide no resolution...*
I can do better.
Why?
not obligated by parenthood,
rules of randomness superimposed,
all I got is human kindness
the eyesight that
colors kindness,
tolerates no injustice,
milky white light,
no longer recognize
"there for the grace of God
go you and I"
have no name,
but if you need one for me,
call me
<human>
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 8:01 AM UTC
World is given through her womb
Life by her love
She's a shooting star
Fulfilling the dreams of others
Forgetting her ones.
We don't dare to appreciate her
We don't care to her feelings,
Nor her dreams.
She swallows her pride
To serve us might.
Love her, she loves you tonnes
Ignore her, she loves you loads
Ignores our ignorance
And tolerates our flaws
Complaining never
Her cries are often unheard
With tears invisible,
Trauma a smile
Patience at infinity
With words unspoken.
She's a ocean
Vast to explore
Hard to understand
But plain as river
With thoughts deeper.
Her self respect
Often misspelled as ego,
Society mocks her down earth
And she raises like a tree
From a buried seed
Her every move
Is judgemental,
With several eyes poking her
And so she became unpredictable.
Never try to understand, rather love her.
She gives life. She is a mother.
She makes home. She is a wife.
She is a sister, a savior till the ends.
She is precious because she is a daughter
She refuses to retire because she's born a woman.
And do you feel she deserves just a single day!?
Mar 7, 2017
Mar 7, 2017 at 9:50 PM UTC
A real man is not a person who can
impregnate a woman; any guy can also
impregnate a woman. Even a 17 year old boy
can impregnate a woman but that does not
make him a man.
A real man is not a person who is good in
bed. Any idiot can be good in bed.
A real man is not a person who beats his
wife/girlfriend. Infact it is only idiots that
beat their women.
A real man is a person who tolerates his
woman
A real man is a person who controls his
anger
A real man is the person who shows real
care and love to his woman
A real man is the person who knows how
to solve the crises and problems in his
relationship
A real man does not beat his woman
A real man is hardworking. He is not lazy
A real man can endure, persevere and be
patient
A real man can overlook the bad
behaviors of his woman
A real man corrects his woman with love.
Real men make their women happy.
Therefore, ladies, when choosing a man, date
real men only.
Marry real men only. If you are not happy in
your relationship now, that means your guy
is not a real man.!
Look beyond *** and money and go for
happiness and peace of mind.
—Do You Agree???
Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 7:16 AM UTC
Before sleep I knot a paper tag
to my big toe with baling twine.
Sometimes I think of stapling it -
ritual wants a clean edge.
She tolerates my oddities:
a posterboard of errands above the sink,
tea mug with its brown ring I refuse to clean,
I stand too close when the train arrives,
or climb ladders with one hand full.
Last summer a rogue wave flung me under;
I surfaced broken, collarbone split,
came home wrapped and aching.
She kissed the bruise and laughed,
as if I’d slipped the ocean’s grip,
as if the sea had lost its claim.
I call them accidents to sleep easier,
yet I flood the stove with gas,
strike a match, laugh at the plume,
convinced the fire means I’m alive
even as it scorches my hand.
At night she circles the bed,
tugging at my toe tag
as if it could bind me to her,
carrying me into the cabin,
a weight she won’t release.
Sep 20, 2025
Sep 20, 2025 at 1:44 PM UTC
There, in the corner, staring at his drink.
The cap juts like a gantry's crossbeam,
Cowling plated forehead and sledgehead jaw.
Speech is clamped in the lips' vice.
That fist would drop a hammer on a Catholic-
Oh yes, that kind of thing could start again;
The only Roman collar he tolerates
Smiles all round his sleek pint of porter.
Mosaic imperatives bang home like rivets;
God is a foreman with certain definite views
Who orders life in shifts of work and leisure.
A factory horn will blare the Resurrection.
He sits, strong and blunt as a Celtic cross,
Clearly used to silence and an armchair:
Tonight the wife and children will be quiet
At slammed door and smoker's cough in the hall.
4.8k
Oh what of the demon cat
Foul tauntress in my sight
Whose reputation for ratting
Far exceeds her deeds this night
Far more likely she, to play
Than upon that one to pounce
She tolerates the evil rat
Within this very house
25Apr2002
Jun 18, 2015
Jun 18, 2015 at 3:50 PM UTC
ching, ching
Two men walk into a local cafe.
A city boy, and a Townsman
The cityboy sports
Slicked up hair.
Blue button up shirt,
Grey slacks.
Dress shoes.
The townsman simpler.
Brown hair.
Orange T-shirt,
cargo pants.
Work boots.
"Hey there!" Says the city boy.
walking up to the counter.
"Do you ladies have different roasts of coffee?
Or do you have just one kind?"
The Register girl looks at him sideways.
"What are you talking about?"
"I want a black light roast if you have it. Also, two shots over ice."
He hands her his travel mug.
"What's this for?"
The girl fondles the travel mug.
"I'd like my coffee in that please."
The manager puts a hand to the girls shoulder.
"The house coffee is a light roast doll, give him that."
"Cream and sugar?" Asks the register girl.
"Oh god, please no." Laughs the city boy "Thank you."
Handing over a credit card.
The register girl does not understand
what is so funny about cream and sugar.
"Cash?" Says the manager.
"Is there an atm? I can only offer this, but I know how to change that if you point me in the right direction."
"No ATM. We just Offer a discount for cash, we'll take your card." Says the manager.
The city boy waits for his drinks.
The townsman, walks up and says
"Coffee, please"
The manager hands him a paper cup with coffee, cream, and sugar.
He pays them in cash.
smiles, nods. Says: "Thank you"
Then waits for the city boy.
"Here's your sippy cup."
Says the register girl.
Handing over his travel mug.
The city boy stands there waiting patiently.
"Are you waiting for something?"
"Yes. my two shots over ice?"
"Oh I put it in there."
"Could I have two shots over ice please? I'll pay for it again if you forgot."
"Oh we don't have an espresso machine.
Our shots are like a syrup."
"Oh... Is there syrup in here?
I just wanted two shots over ice."
"Well like... I mean our prices are so low anyway, it's no big deal, but we don't have an espresso machine so..."
"Sorry" says the manager.
"Thank you ladies." Says the townsman.
The cityboy grabs the townsmans hand.
They leave the Cafe.
The city boy sips his
Botched coffee.
"I've had good, bad, and know what I want.
I don't want to be seen as difficult because I'm educated."
He tolerates it.
The townsman sips his
Familiar Coffee.
"Sometimes ignorance is bliss."
He enjoys it.
Oct 5, 2015
Oct 5, 2015 at 10:31 PM UTC
This is a formal complaint to one Cupid
on behalf of the population of earth.
We find that you've become somewhat,
how can we put it mildly....
unsavory
ever since you started drinking. We've
found that you have not been taking
your job seriously at all since that time
We were understanding at first. Your
job? It's not an easy one. It tolerates
almost no failure, and requires both
physical and mental capacity that is
beyond what most of us can spare.
However...we feel that the alcohol is
affecting your judgement and character
in a way that we can no longer accept.
Below, we've listed the particularly
heinous abuses of your power
1. Taking bets on what you can make people fall in love with. John is now smitten with a cactus while Jenny can't stay away from the inflatable Santa Claus on the Morgans' lawn.
2. Having very attractive women fall in love for your...erm...personal pleasure. That's just offensive
3. Having members of the same family fall in love. The vulgarity of it all is just appalling! It's an ****** epidemic!
4. Shooting your arrows at Rhinoceroses and then laughing as they charge a poor unsuspecting person is not funny.
5. Likewise, shooting an unsuspecting person and having them fall in love with a Rhinoceros who doesn't reciprocate is equally unfunny
6. Last, but not least...Please fix the Republican Candidates. Mitt Romney and Rick ******** are trying to get married next week. While I'm happy that they are now "for" gay marriage, this cannot be tolerated.
So? Do you have anything to say for
yourself? Is that alcohol I smell on your
breath? You don't even care, do you?
Well...we have no choice but to revok---OW!
Oh dear.
Feb 14, 2012
Feb 14, 2012 at 10:02 PM UTC
best way
to describe him
charlie chaplin
wearing stan laurel's
black and white suit.
black hat, white gloves
funny walk..
does not say much
but forever making us laugh
he is just not sure,
why that tail thing
follows him everywhere...
loves the blucat...
the blucat tolerates him
but is warming by the hour
he is tod's new cat...
the blucat....gus is
geting on and prefers
to sleep...
timothy tuxedo
(he was going to be captain wrinkly drawers....but sanity
prevailed...can you imagine
standing at the the back door
and calling that cat..)
...plays
until he drops...
this will be a good thing
once tuxedo boy stops living
in the bottom of the shower...
Nov 20, 2014
Nov 20, 2014 at 3:31 AM UTC
the more i try the more it just feels false
my words come out and just like that I freeze-
i regret what I say and keep silent around everyone
then the silence catches up with me
and infiltrates my mind
why did i speak why did i have to be
me, what is it about my existence
that makes life so ******* difficult to
to speak to think to form a sentence or two
why is something so simple so complex
you have kind eyes
i’m not saying anything more except
that’s
that’s what attracted me -
not in a romantic way or
any way at all
just a friendly way i guess,
so some sort of way it turns out,
a really random way or
completely accidental or
oops there goes my mind again
but i can’t help it when there’s someone new
who tolerates me to the point of tears
then drops me on my *** and forgets
i’m even here
i dont trust very easily but i want to trust you,
my eyes want to cry and my mouth wants to speak
but see what happens when the two collide?
this.
this is what happens and
this is how i lose people and
this is how i live
because i’m afraid of being left behind or disliked
because it’s not every day someone with kind eyes
shares an ounce of of their kindness by looking into my
own
kind
eyes
dear god please don’t **** this up
i know i’m an atheist but
****** atheists have some kind ******* eyes
Oct 31, 2016
Oct 31, 2016 at 9:24 PM UTC
641
Size circumscribes—it has no room
For petty furniture—
The Giant tolerates no Gnat
For Ease of Gianture—
Repudiates it, all the more—
Because intrinsic size
Ignores the possibility
Of Calumnies—or Flies.
1.8k
of course everyone
has something they
won't admit to
purely for fear of judgment
maybe you love
Sunday mass
even if your friends
would ridicule you
if they knew about that
perhaps you love
offensive
rap music although
your family
only tolerates country
and so what if
you absolutely adore the smell
of cigarette smoke
on the boy from the
city?
imagine enjoying whatever
you wished
pretend that these could
be called simply
(guilty) pleasures
instead
Jun 30, 2013
Jun 30, 2013 at 11:39 PM UTC
No wind hums
As I move into the next sunlight.
Spring is at my door
And apparently that’s meant
To mean a thing or two
For happiness.
For the dancing tiptoes,
And being allowed to
Drink in the day;
So long as the sun is in the sky.
This is the British Summer:
The arrival of soft jazz over beer gardens,
With scones and coffee
For the brand new lovers.
They’re too scared to drink,
For fear of saying something true about themselves.
They nod, they nod and agree, agree, agree.
She internalises sexism,
Whilst he tolerates sexlessness;
They’re both clinging to that coastline postcard
That is now lost to pollution,
And to the havoc of streetlights on stars.
She heals cocoa butter into her pores
As he falters on through his Big Mac.
They met in McDonald’s, for fear of suggestion,
Yet he could tell from her nose ring,
The life in her eyes,
That there was something beyond
Their corporate collision.
Oh, this is my life.
Mere fantasies of far-off places,
Of far-off loves and feelings;
Where everything descends from intuition;
From where everything stems
From my childhood heart.
May 19, 2014
May 19, 2014 at 11:29 PM UTC
Nobody does it better as if each letter she adds to a word makes it sad,
yet makes me glad that I know her
and she knows it as she adds one more piece to the jigsaw and sees me in bits on the floor.
Once I wore her on my sleeve as a bracelet and she liked me
but being young and uncouth
unaware that youth could corrupt..
..she interrupts me
does not want to see those lost images that flow through the air
and adds one more letter to a word making good out of goo
and I love her
I do.
She tolerates me 'cause I'm funny and she likes to laugh and she laughs really loud Guess that makes me feel proud that she likes what I say
and I love her today more than ever before
but that's what life's for.
A bit of laughter and fun and whatever may come it goes on to the end and even then we pretend it goes on even more
I'm just a piece of the puzzle that's laid on the floor
and I adore being that.
May 31, 2013
May 31, 2013 at 3:48 AM UTC
Hello, cute boy from my English class.
Who makes up secret handshakes and tolerates my laugh.
I thought you were common, simply sporty and tall.
But resent discovery shows that's not right at all.
Love blooms in winter, and I'm noticing some rain.
It begins to hail and snow when someone says your name.
I can no longer write poetry and my homework is past due.
My mind is too distracted with the need to talk to you.
So let us talk, my dear. Let us conversate.
Let's talk for so long we get to class late.
Today's a conversation but tomorrow is a kiss.
In your eyes I see the future and in your hands I'll find my bliss.
Oct 26, 2014
Oct 26, 2014 at 11:18 PM UTC
i am not
your girl
i am just
the instrument
of your
insatiable lust,
your reliable
second choice
i am the
missed call
on your phone,
the unopened
love letters
stashed under
your mattress
i am the
neglected cup
of coffee,
the Advil
after a hangover
i am
the person
in between
your shivering
legs and
the one
whose thighs
are covered
with bruises
and your
lipstick stains
the only person
who tolerates
your alcoholism
and the
only one
you kiss
when you
taste like
cheap bar
whiskey
i am
the hand
rubbing
shoulders
while you
puke your
entire night
out and spill
incoherent
words
i am all
of those
things but
i am not
your girl
i am
just your
drunken night,
the blurs
of your
hangover
i am the
memories
you long
so much
to delete
because i
am also
the regret
seeping through
your skull
preventing you
from sleeping
at night
i am not
your girl
but i crave
to be yours
Apr 28, 2014
Apr 28, 2014 at 4:49 AM UTC
Each day I sit: numb hands, numb feet
Waiting for the autopilot to take my space
So I can fall asleep in the passenger seat
And wake up in a different place
Or even drift right past tomorrow
If I'm his hostage, he's my plague
Because the bumpy road he tolerates
Always rocks away my aches
My body is held by strings
And my eyes no longer blink
So I stay in the passenger seat
And keep choosing not to think
Jan 30, 2023
Jan 30, 2023 at 5:00 PM UTC
Cue upon the shore, through the heaving,
The pull might contrive the sediment;
What subject a mere iota might have strung?
‘Twas a hist upon some certain shut.
What course might have momentum brung about?
The dust through the maneuvers or
The time through the slip of a tongue.
What course might have held that time?
May be a hiss that slithers through the waves,
Or might have been a whirlwind of an abdominal clime;
Man must, therefore, certainly thrive(!)
What hardy keeps might be hither to chime?
Therefore, a man tolerates the bearing
Of an unfathomable crime
Through
Assuming
That
Some
Can
Still
Be
Alive.
Jun 14, 2020
Jun 14, 2020 at 7:50 AM UTC
He thumb is green
He grows a lot.
Wether it's in age or flowers
Or weeding pots.
His dog is about as as gray as he
And they shuffle around outside
Shuffling.
He keeps his time well to himself.
No use for material wealth.
Keeps up his ride
Each Saturday at noon
Goes to church every Sunday with his wife
How cute.
Picks out the litter outside my porch
With his quiet little stroll and cane
While I smoke and watch.
We had a conversation about music once
About Simon and Garfunkel, Skeeter Davis, and the Beatles.
He has some ink on his arms from youth
Back when he was fighting wars too.
Military vet
I know cause his wife likes to brag.
He's always asking how my day was met.
And I asking to help
To carry his bags back to his house.
No thanks, I'm fine.
You're so kind to ask.
You don't hear those kind of words from my generation class.
I saw his kids visit only once.
Like gran Torino, he just tolerates the bunch.
Get off my lawn!
With a shotgun in hand.
He'd be so badass had he done that, man.
Always first with his helping hands
Trying to spruce up the surrounding land.
Maybe I would too if he
Showed me how to plant some seed.
My garden is imaginary
But real flowers grow on his side of the street.
The elderly gent in 608
Is someone I look for on a daily rate.
I wrote of him because he's entitled to
Being heard of and remembered too.
But don't tell him you heard it from the chick who lives in 702.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 4:31 PM UTC
We are meant to be Kings and Queens
Gods and Goddesses in Gods image
Women like you sadden me
How easily you shrink into him
How easily you strip yourself
Just to mirror his beautiful
Does it not hurt?
Does it not hurt?
Giving him the pieces of you that were simply meant to show…
Check the mirror without him and what do you see?
Have you seen the color of the corners of your mouth when they come together for you?
Have you seen the sun reflected off your skin
And appreciated walking this earth?
Do you see yourself reflected in his eyes?
Or is It simply a reflection of his reflection that he mirrors in you?
Why are you deliberately forgetting your beautiful
Who hurt you so bad that you stopped loving you?
Why have you stopped appreciating the collage of browns, nudes, and red in your skin?
Our many shades of BLACK are OUR BEAUTIFUL.
…Why are you ignoring them?
What happened to Maya Angelou’s “Phenomenal Woman”?
Did you forget that we were born with Fire in our eyes?
Meant to have stride in our steps?
That there is nothing wrong with being love and deliberately beautiful.
Stop settling for the man who tolerates you
Stop sticking with the luke warm souls
Open yourself to the man that deems life with you as a pure testament to God
And finds infinite amazing in your beautiful.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 1:36 PM UTC
Small triangles of lycra
cover heaven
in this tanned landscape
of flesh
basking like beached seals
under the god sun
worshipped for its power
through the protection of lotions
and creams, keeping
cancerous skin at bay
grains of sand
smashed from rock
innocently hide nature's power
all around
bodies dipped into an ocean
already polluted
by greed and the impurity
of this impossible dream
the tide plays with them
like a cat with a mouse
knowing full well with one pounce
all would perish
the earth tolerates our blindness for now
but before you dip a toe in the water
know this
you will be washed away like the
castles you make, pretending
you have dominion
over this sleeping monster.
Jul 13, 2019
Jul 13, 2019 at 12:44 PM UTC
As I come face to face with pain
Pity party and drama, I don't want to get involved with
Easy for the heart to say, easy for the heart to feel
Yes, the world even tolerates these vain tears
But I should know
I have to choose healing over stagnation to pain
And staying at this bay will never help
And yes, he hurt me
With a hurt only he can give
But forgiveness will I choose
To free both he and me.
Nov 21, 2013
Nov 21, 2013 at 2:12 AM UTC
The surface is fragile
One step above
One step below
It doesn't work out
There's no
gray area
only
black
and
white
The surface is
equilibrium
Desirable
Not to high
not to low
Perfect, relaxed
The higher you go or
the lower you go
the harder it is to get to the
balance
where you need to be
One step above
or
One step below
It just never works out
for
The surface is fragile
It only tolerates perfection.
Feb 18, 2013
Feb 18, 2013 at 9:33 PM UTC
Have we become
So OBdurate
As to believe
Only by OBedience
Can we create
A future
Therefore all must be
OBedient servants ?
Encouraged
To OBey
Those visionaries
Who show
Through
An OBsfugated vision
Fraudulant validation
By an
OBiterdictum decree
"The OBjective
tolerates no OBjections !"
OBjugation
By those convinced
OBliging ...
Is an OBligation
Without any thought
To the OBlique they seek
To completely
OBliterate
Somehow convinced
OBlivion....
Complete OBliteration
Will heal this nation
OBlivious
To the fact
That this
OBlong view of history
And how often
We've seen this OBloquy
Cast it's shadow across nations
When OBnoxious
And OBscene inhuman beings
OBscurantist regimes
Lead their people
From OBscure into OBscurity
Wherein massive OBsequies
Are ever present
As are the OBsequious
Willing patrons
OBservable by
The nature of their ignorance
As they believe OBservance
And being an OBservant
Faithful Compatriot
Is equivalent to OBservation
Where in reality
Their darkness... so complete
They could no longer
See...the light and glory
Of the stars
From an OBservatory
Following the OBsessions
Of the exaulted Leader
They come to OBsess
Compelled
To seek and destroy
Dissenters and freethinkers
Who are to be made OBsolete
By their very existance
They are
Considered OBstacles
OBstinate non- conformists
With OBstreperous
OBstructionist agendas
Seeking to reverse course
By their Obtuse views ...
And philosophies
Believing that the Obverse
Must be seen
Or a time will come
When total OBviation
To save this nation
Becomes....
...all too...
.....OBVIOUS !!
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 1:18 AM UTC
1857 was some years older,
Bhaaratvarsh was still a slave.
No Hïnđū king after Śïvājī had been bolder,
None dared guerrilla attacks from a mountain cave.
No Hïnđū queen after Läkšmībāī was braver,
None consumed the patriotism wine agave.
Mughal or howsoever other tyrannical kings were,
The Colonial Age was worse and it was a blur.
Bhāräŧ knows how to make things better,
And I am sure about this administrator.
Mōđī Jī is as focused as a recluse,
And Yōgī Jī tolerates not a traitor.
Shāh Jī is the best strategist,
And the team is just perfect.
Smřŧï auntie is the best counsellor,
An example she is of the pink power.
Rājnāŧh Jī is the best caretaker,
Wise old man for the nation.
Doctor Härśvärđhän is now elevated,
He heads the World Health Organization.
Coronavirus and its disease, COVID19,
Originated in MainlandChina.
Extinction, it is threatening,
Now we all turn to Hïnđū values.
Sänāŧän Đhärmä is very scientific,
The blind faith belongs to aggressors.
The oldest **** sapiens sapiens,***
In Jharkhand state, you will find its remains.
They say that history repeats itself,
Rām Rājyä beckons once again.
Jul 9, 2020
Jul 9, 2020 at 7:45 PM UTC