"unchallenged" poems
1273
That sacred Closet when you sweep—
Entitled “Memory”—
Select a reverential Broom—
And do it silently.
’Twill be a Labor of surprise—
Besides Identity
Of other Interlocutors
A probability—
August the Dust of that Domain—
Unchallenged—let it lie—
You cannot supersede itself
But it can silence you—
5.1k
*No stabbing pointy bits
Comfortably thin and wide
Yet sharp, so precise
Unchallenged dexterity, ranging
intimidating in-sight
hidden held secret
Interesting restful beauty, with
a swinging-kissing-singing bite of genius
The Chinese cleaver
used since Cambodia
Joyous Valley Girl’s hidden past
a poetic heroic fame
Travel companion to my
extended Sashimi blade*
.
Apr 26, 2010
Apr 26, 2010 at 2:12 AM UTC
I see a flash
A sight to behold
The work of an immortal sculptor
Walking straight in elegant pride
Worth of a princess of the sun
Firmly transfixed in her twelve
Moving into the emptiness of an invalid society
Her innocence screaming
In an unchallenged clarity
And only twelve moons
The framework of her modeling salivates
Wolves in men
Who’s been exposed to the virus
Emerging from the bush land of their desires
To seek their vengeance in a fanatical hatred
And poor me the princess
With the *** lunacy roaming the streets,
Sanity of abstinence is the greatest challenge.
Swung from poverty to adolescence
A pendulum of fates
Hunger at home for the family
And her homestead a moonscape of desolation
The two hundred shillings does the trick
She trades out her innocence
And virginity too; a girls pride
And alongside the legal tender
Comes the virus
The minute monster
Savoring a society of huge minds.
There is the tuberculosis
In a hospital ward
Full of undug graves and shrines unnamed.
Drawn into the vacuum of her fate
Eyes wide open in dismal finality
The princess
Lie in freeze frame of death
A pyramid of events
Molded out of her last several terrible seconds
Lamentation for the society
A dull eulogy for our girls.
Jun 23, 2012
Jun 23, 2012 at 5:19 AM UTC
LOVE? Connotative of so many different things, one conjures up vastly intricate definitions of the word. To what extent their truth reaches is indicative of their author’s own relationships, childhood, future and past. To be asked what love truly is, is to allow another to peer inside of your soul, to reach the depth and breadth of your entity and to relinquish your fears and dreams to them, simultaneously. Asked today for my opinion, I deferred my response, realizing I myself hadn’t considered a solid definition. Seemingly such a simple concept; really a foundational core, underpinning our self worth, self adoration and self identity.
Love is unique, to everyone. It can be explained through the use of analogies. Stereotypes. In some ways, our ‘idealistic love’ is a window for our selfish, impeded selves to climb out of. We expect our lover to propel us into some sort of surreal, unchallenged fairy-tale romance, irregardless of the modern day reality we’re living out. We expect worlds to stop, planets to align and stars to shower upon us in some picturesque dream come true. However, referring to love in stereotypes can be impersonal and superficial. I find love can be best defined by a persons own experiences, dreams, fears and desires.
A lover can help realize and form these definitions.
To me, love is resting my head between the curve of his shoulder and my sheets. Love is watching a summer storm roll in together, dry and safe. Love is observation; of passion, of fear and of delight. Love is acceptance. There’s nothing more beautiful than knowing and being known. Nothing more beautiful than opening yourself up to someone, being with them in complete serenity, complete coexistence and honesty.
Rolling over and looking into their eyes, and silently whispering, “I love you.”
That to me is love.
- c.m
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 12:52 PM UTC
I see a flash
A sight to behold
The work of an immortal sculptor
Walking straight in elegant pride
Worth of a princess of the sun
Firmly transfixed in her twelve
Moving into the emptiness of an Invalid society
Her innocence screaming
In an unchallenged clarity
And only twelve moons
The framework of her modelling salivates
Wolves in men
Who's been exposed to the virus
Emerging from the bushland of their desires
To seek their vengeance in a fanatical hatred
And poor me the Princess
With the *** Lunacy roaming the streets
Sanity of abstinence is the greatest challenge.
Swung from poverty to adolescence
A pendulum of fates
Hunger at home for the family
And her homestead a moonscape of desolation.
The two Hundred shillings does the trick
She trades out her innocence
And virginity too- a girl's pride
And alongside the legal tender comes the virus
The minute Monster
Savoring a society of huge minds.
There is the tuberculosis
In a hospital ward
Full of undug graves and shrines unnamed
Drawn into the vacuum of her fate
Eyes wide open in dismal finality
The princess
Lie in freeze frame of death
A pyramid of events
Molded out of her last several terrible seconds
Lamentation for the society
A dull eulogy
For our girls.
Feb 16, 2012
Feb 16, 2012 at 2:03 AM UTC
by
rgpage
In this quiet time of night, I lie alone and prey to the bitter pain of
joy's absence. Lost in my mind's shallow thoughts the sharp fragments of
happy memories since shattered ***** at the sensitive fringes of my sleep.
Sleep: Nature's sanctuary
A quiet haven, an island set apart
from the daily consciousness of life
where my thoughts may at last run free.
An island with white sandy shores as
far as the eye can see. Blemished only
by my solitary figure walking the blue
water's edge.
And the forests of my paradise, their
deep green density gives substance to
my world. Often I stop to ponder their
far reaching greenness.
The warm subtle breeze carrying the
fragrance of this foliage across my
face, fills my nostrils with the pleasures
of nature.
And occasionally a gull overhead,
drifting unchallenged on the soft
warm currents of the azure, as free
in his world as I in mine; lends companionship.
All of the sudden in the beat of a heart,
from no where a large black cloud appears
to smother the sun's warm light, turning
the blue sky and green foliage black
and the white sand that I once walked
upon a cold gray.
And just ahead of me lying there in
death's humiliation, my winged companion;
soaked and scorned at the dark water's
edge.
I awaken:
This cold room and bed the greatest part of my conscious moment, and the sound of a distant train bell mocking the destruction of my comfort; its havoc upon my sleep done it now moves on. Saddened I once again wade through the shallow bogs of my loneliness, and the pains of memories of the love and life i'd wasted return. This painful sleepless night a most cruel retribution for my past. So firmly entrenched it seems I may never return to my paradise; yet remain in this cold room to suffer the long night's tortures.
Returning:
The warm sunlight, and gentle caress
of the water's pulse upon the white
sand.
And overhead my pure white friend
again drifts on the warm currents of
air, heralding not my return
but praising my presence....
...for my presence alone, gives
life to this warm yet oh so precariously
balanced paradise.
The white beach with its warm sand
leads me on my journey to the morning,
as I walk the blue water’s edge.
Mar 2, 2015
Mar 2, 2015 at 12:22 PM UTC
strike my eyes lovely
for S. B.
by way of introduction,
when you have gone to confession,
freely admitting you have nothing left for others to harvest,
no seed to plant a new crop, and lies and laughter, interchangeable,
there is no poetry left, not even raisin scone crumbs,
one good friend informs that a forgotten five month old poem,
a computer has selected & resurrected, for distinction
so months later you snicker for you have been seriously
self-kicked away from writing, all your vocabularies,
trite and yellowed overused, and you read
really good poetry and are
slapped-seen-outed by the impoverishment of
your own no-winsome word-smithy,
no delusions, even this, but a-quick script, more a thank you note,
and it’s the only lasting quality is the
genuine nature of its intent
but the poem itself falls bottom of the cliff, short on quality,
a victim of your dissatisfaction
let me explain better
she messages you while the time difference works in her favor,
she reads while you sleep the sleep of the soul-exhausted,
she, scoffing at your claims of motivation deprivation,
as she cherishes this forgotten one,
with words that cannot be ignored
the poem**
strikes her eyes lovely
daggered, this morning phrase cannot go unchallenged
for this a compliment that any poet would
weep for, be inspired by, stung into action,
provoked, ego flattered and challenged to-do more-better,
what writer could want for anything more!
who can own this ability
accept this ultimatum of success, a cross-word crucification
to strike down lovely
the readers eyes, almost all once,
almost excuses me forever
for trying and failing so many times
you smile
but not in the chest where
lovely
needs to strike you
for if you cannot strike the readers eyes again and again, then...
let the moment gleam, and then disappear,
again and again, stored but not restorative
11/21/18
Miami
Nov 22, 2018
Nov 22, 2018 at 7:49 AM UTC
They walk aloof among us
Three percent of the population
They reluctantly dine with us
Quietly, stifling their frustration
They don't look back as you pass
They don't want your conversation
Empathy is just an alien concept
They focus only on self preservation
But here's where it gets strange
We worship them with huge salaries
We beg them to lead us the way
We ignore their blatant deceptiveness
We hand them our hard earned pay
If they say bail out the banksters
Or send your kids to a dubious war
We offer them our kids and cash
Knowing that they will ask for more
Stranger still
Our history has been sculpted by them
We raise bronze statues proudly in their honor
Through our plain idleness and cowardice
They can reduce this planet to a nuclear goner
"How did this madness occur?" We question
Why do psychos run banks and governments
Checking world history offers a suggestion
To why we (the population) are slaves for rent
We are simply afraid of those
That successfully navigate life
With reckless irresponsibility
Unchallenged by others strife
It is those destructive characters
We plead to take political risks
In return for obedience and cash
To buy more power and obelisks
Aug 4, 2014
Aug 4, 2014 at 3:04 PM UTC
They all seem discursive and scattered,
Why would these curses ever matter?
Who will command stillness to wickedness so desolate and dead?
Partly I lay feeble in the head.
I am leisurely in limbo and moderately consoled.
I'm uncalled for and ribald ,but accounted.
Everything fit in place!
Ethical with a little slowness ,and a touch of corruption.
What was happiness is now a presumption,
Evolving and clawing threw this crushed creation.
Living is somber with a fatal fixation,
With all these things taken into consideration...
I am completely unchallenged with this sad situation.
Jul 2, 2013
Jul 2, 2013 at 6:40 AM UTC
I played the game, alone.
I talk to the air,
Imagining a friend who isn’t there.
My brain’s dual thinking.
- Checkmate -
Personification in strike
Persona’s colliding stake
- Stalemate -
Hello there my stuffed friend
Looks like we are a matched.
We’re Latched,
Encased in the four corners of our walls.
You know I feel restless looking at your frozen face.
Playing with stillness is a hollowed void.
Engross with my ever changing fantasy.
Choosing to ignore reality.
A sad case of my mortality.
- Workmate -
Music patched the necessary unattached realm.
Stories powered the desires to dream the unchallenged dream.
Life is a walking daydream.
- Lostmate -
There are those would think I am coward
And then I box myself not to move forward.
I fear what lurks behind someone’s soul,
Fearing I am not worthy of my own coal.
A charade of personas, hiding.
Tilting the crowd as if I am never there, post acting.
- Soulmate -
Believing you are near,
somewhere far behind that unseen chamber door.
- Castmate -
Sometimes I am just tired of this game.
Whispers of the wind, believing I am tamed.
Sometimes all I need is a real friend
That will hug-out the negative trend
For me to transcend
To the realistic perspective
Waking the sleeping life’s motive.
Sep 29, 2015
Sep 29, 2015 at 1:14 AM UTC
The wild jazz solo of the oscillating wind,
tossing the great waters,
out-singing the sheer sighs of the unruly sea.
The clouds dressed grey, in mourning
the sun will peek
only to be swallowed by fishermen's mist.
Flickering bolts greet thunder rolling
with unchallenged prevalence,
shaking the Earth into fear.
Nature's response.
Jun 20, 2013
Jun 20, 2013 at 9:13 PM UTC
A lonely heart walks in pair, never beating with the other's rhythm. A strong mind lies unchallenged, its wisdom rarely meant, its thoughts never asked for. An internal fire once burned bright, so hot that passion was never missed, but now darkness has taken its place. I walk a path in which my sight is clouded. Many times I've reached out my hand, and never was it met. So alone I've walked my path forgetting my pains. And on I've gone for quite some time, with a vague memory of things once better. Suddenly from within the dark my hand met yours, and my heart skipped a beat; forever altering its rhythm. My mind started to race with your words, and suddenly my world didn't seem so lonely. When your lips met mine, the moment froze, as well as my thoughts. You challenged mind of what I thought was right and I saw that in some ways I was wrong about the path I've walked. I craved yet another kiss from your lips, so soft so tender they were and yet with so much passion your lips met mine once more. My eyes opened and my sight was cleared, and as lovely as I could imagine your eyes met mine. When our bodies were pressed against each others, the passion sparked my fire. I never wanted to release you; at that moment I wanted all of you. Still I said nothing for my voice was gone, I could not think for all my thoughts were of you. So beautiful you look in the half lit night, so wonderful your fragrance, so rapid my heart beat for your kiss had stolen my breath. Although the night is over, I remember it so well, I crave to fell your touch, your skin, but most of all your kiss. And still my path is dark, but my steps are lighter, for my rhythm has been changed, my mind has been challenged, my fire rekindled, and my hand had met yours if only for that night, and now I sit and wait for my lips to find yours once again.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 9:20 PM UTC
Plagued by crippling doubt,
You trudge through life,
Hesitant, confused, aimless.
Peril lurks behind you.
You cling to what you know:
A sweet, numb idleness.
You seek a badge of courage,
But are waylaid by hedonism.
Sinking deeper into sorrow,
The many colored beast nearby,
Whispering, “you are alone,
Worthless, inadequate, a corpse."
Night’s jaws envelope you,
As the taint burns your soul.
The beast prowls unchallenged,
Leaving the heart torn and gory.
About to concede to the Destroyer,
You are interrupted in the act,
By a still small voice,
And love embraces you.
Sep 28, 2021
Sep 28, 2021 at 11:14 AM UTC
wouldn't the world be dull and louse,
without painted nails,skirts and blouse,
with delicate limbs,gestures demure,
how well do they us allure!
kohl-lined sparkling eye,
long tresses in henna dye,
melodious voice and tinkling toe,
without a sword behead their foe.
from Cleopatra to Helen unchallenged they rule,
taming brave warriors into innocent mules,
fair hand that cradle rock,
cruelly punish and shock,
its true that in our heart they lie,
but they are more than just.....'feast for the eye'
Dec 26, 2013
Dec 26, 2013 at 2:52 PM UTC
*Evergreen soldiers at the whim of Alraus
I've had a recurrent dream of the enlisted warriors
abandoning their post , occupying the fertile grassland
in a chess type move to gain control
Free of shade , of root-bound thirst , of choking
moss gathering unchallenged in overpopulated arbors
A celebration courtesy of the Robin Knights , the Chickadee troubadours ,
the Cardinal gentlemen at the Court of Queen Chestnut
Slash , sugar , loblolly and white oak
Persimmon , hickory , honey locust and dogwood
The myrrh of gardenia , magnolia , honeysuckle and tea rose
Earthen red clay , white sand , black loam and kaolin
Grasshopper cellist , cricket flautist , a chuckling crow with a
Spanish guitar
The toad trombones , a bluebird violin solo , a mockingbird reads
a touching poem that even sways the worker ants into a brief pause
The Old Forest becomes pasture and the grassland young woodland
The dove cue the night , the katydids croon to the moon ,
the bullfrogs 'pooka-dooka' and the lovers swoon* ...
Oct 20, 2016
Oct 20, 2016 at 5:24 PM UTC
As I proceed I see no changes,
Everyone is still wearing the same guilty faces
Violence will forever live on
Just like the movement of the sun ‘til dawn,
Racism is one of the issues unchanged
Globally known yet it remains unchallenged…
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 9:22 AM UTC
Theses on species
and their feces,
people ******* and ********
Bukowski sneers and spits.
A cycle traversing through time
unbroken and unchallenged,
meaningless,
thoughtful yet dubious
of their divinity,
if any at all.
Oct 25, 2016
Oct 25, 2016 at 10:29 AM UTC
Give me love that is without limit,
Free ordained and with sincerest spirit.
To love is all I desire,
Bless it in eternal fire.
To feel complete in every moment,
Unchallenged by faithless heartless opponents.
I long to feel your guided linger,
trace my body on heart felt fingers.
To caress my lips with your very own,
To feel every rapture wholesome and owned,
To love you so tenderly softly and faithful
That in your world I feel wholesome and beautiful.
I love you is all I can say,
Year on year and every day,
May your heart beat the drum of my heartfelt love,
Purer than the Gods most beautiful Dove.
Submitted to memory,
And endless eternity.
Bound in spells of heart felt honesty,
Enraptured in words of eternal clemency.
Oct 8, 2014
Oct 8, 2014 at 8:14 PM UTC
we are protesting.
why we won't shut up.
because we are angry.
because we have had enough.
and we are throwing down
a line in the sand.
enough.
standing up for yourself
and other human beings
in the face of danger and adversity
is one of the hardest things
a person can do.
it takes guts.
it takes determination.
it takes strength.
and for that you mock us
like children.
calling us names.
you are reflecting in every way
what we find repulsive
in this man.
for months,
we heard every excuse
in the book to
get your man
off the hook.
about women.
about minorities.
about immigrants.
about refugees.
about the first amendment.
people continue to struggle
for things you take
for granted.
and instead of showing
kindness, empathy, and understanding,
you align yourself
with a demagogue
who has no problem
standing in front
of the world
complaining.
whining.
showing contempt
and ignorance for everyone
under the sun.
blaming everyone else for his problems.
shows absolutely no empathy
for anyone but a select few.
seeks, encourages,
and causes
division.
i'm not sure what is going on
inside you that
you can't see that.
that you can't recognize
danger when it is about
to engulf you.
that you can't remember
the cold facts of history.
when one group of
citizens' rights are threatened,
we are all threatened.
when one group is marginalized,
we are all marginalized.
you feel safe in this society.
and you don't
understand
those of us
who do not.
you do not put yourself
in the place of others.
some of us can.
and some of us do.
some of us have
seen injustice,
inequality,
and bullying
with our own eyes.
some of us realize
that even though you don't think
your way of life is in jeopardy,
it is.
and by standing up for ourselves
we are standing up for you.
we have to protect the most
vulnerable among us.
we are done with excuses.
with discrimination.
with sexism.
with victim blaming.
we are done.
so, yes
you are going to
see opposition.
and if you spread
lies, nonsense, and hatred
don't expect to go
unchallenged.
because we are done.
Nov 12, 2016
Nov 12, 2016 at 9:48 PM UTC
i am the broom that sweeps you into the dust pan
the capo garbage man
the lie left unchallenged
the true deceiver
i shine amongst ****
i collect your rejects
an unbeliever
believing in himself
with helping hands
ill smite you
with torch in hand
pointing out the path
my thorns have roses
Aug 6, 2012
Aug 6, 2012 at 12:03 AM UTC
{I can live life unfiltered.
I preen and uncover the riotous feathers
I always felt I had to tuck away.
When I cause those laughs,
or at the very least, those grins,
it seems suddenly, I have swallowed
something much like the sun—
all of the lit space in its seams,
and I become bright,
unchallenged, and with purpose.
I live life proudly and profoundly undressed.
To feel comfortable in my own skin
will never be this natural in any other context.
I am rarely a creature of grace, but
when I feel those fingers
run down the length of my bare back,
I become a word so treacherously beautiful,
writers are too hesitant to pen it.
Wrapped up in those arms,
I find that I fit; I’m home; I’m safe.
I get an unmatched pleasure out of
watching such a mind work—
in awe of how it knows when things fit together,
the way it peels, layers, creates, and stimulates.
No, seriously though, the mind thing?
[Nothing turns me on more.]
The same fears are shared—
of living a cliché and settling,
of pain and disfigurement,
but mostly of
endings.
I find contentment
in simply being held in the
silent repose of the morning
before my small world is awake,
and the street lamps are still
competing with the dawn.
It’s occurred to me that this has
made me into something marvelous
I didn’t know existed. }
Just know,
why I keep you around can’t be explained
johnny-on-the-spot.
See, when asked,
my little heart crescendos, and all of the words
rush to tangle on the back of my tongue.
I pull the phrases out, word by word,
and string them the way
they were meant to be read.
Don't be discouraged
by an answer of “I don’t know.”
It sometimes buys
the necessary time
for one to display the whole truth—
one that that lovely, whiskey-soaked head
can’t fully comprehend in that moment.
But maybe,
I keep you around
simply
because.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 12:25 PM UTC
You make me feel
Like i could conquor the world
Like there is nothing that could stand in my way
You make me feel whole
And unchallenged
Even in the face
Of great toils
And great misfortune
You are there in my mind
Pushing me to drive through whatever stands in my path
You are my consience
You guide me through life
Much like the streams that flow from the north
Guide the salmon across the abyss
And into their home waters
You are the light of my life
Much like the light of the sun
That rises and sets in continuity
With the stars that protrude from the undefined infinite
When im not with you
I do not exist
Because me without you
Isnt really me
Me without you
Is a shell of a man
And not in the way that a shell of a turtle or armodilo is;usefull
More like the way the shell...
Of a full metal jacket-30.6 rifle round is;destructive and unjustified
Me without you is the world without the moon
Neither can be without the other
I cannot be without you
I dont know how i ever faired without my fair lady
I dont know how i ever lived
Without the love of my life
And if i ever lost you...
I dont know if i would be able
to live again
I love you
There isnt really anything else to it
And i wish with all my heart that you feel the same
Mar 3, 2016
Mar 3, 2016 at 10:39 PM UTC
pendulum swing
letting the new hour
sprawl noisily
across the night
giving moments
taking empty time
a currency
of second hand
cuttings bringing
each piece to its
natural close
starts new afresh
but carefully
with great method
the unmasking
takes no bribes
the passing game
uncheated by the slip
unchallenged by the price
no tender for this work
the pendulum's swing
is a private service
provided by the darkness
for our own sleepless hour
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 11:45 AM UTC