"unoffending" poems
Look, look, master, here comes two religious caterpillars.
The Jew of Malta.
Polyphiloprogenitive
The sapient sutlers of the Lord
Drift across the window-panes.
In the beginning was the Word.
In the beginning was the Word.
Superfetation of ,
And at the mensual turn of time
Produced enervate Origen.
A painter of the Umbrian school
Designed upon a gesso ground
The nimbus of the Baptized God.
The wilderness is cracked and browned
But through the water pale and thin
Still shine the unoffending feet
And there above the painter set
The Father and the Paraclete.
. . . . .
The sable presbyters approach
The avenue of penitence;
The young are red and pustular
Clutching piaculative pence.
Under the penitential gates
Sustained by staring Seraphim
Where the souls of the devout
Burn invisible and dim.
Along the garden-wall the bees
With hairy bellies pass between
The staminate and pistilate,
Blest office of the epicene.
Sweeney shifts from ham to ham
Stirring the water in his bath.
The masters of the subtle schools
Are controversial, polymath.
3.7k
Don't you look at me.
Don't hold the door for me.
I see your eyes
Slick
With awe.
Some girls live for a
Slack-jawed look
Like that.
Don't you show me kindness
Because the swells of my *******
Are defined beneath silk.
Don't you linger
Because of my slim hips
And white shoulders.
Don't
*******
Look at me.
Don't show me the deference of the beautiful
That you wouldn't if I wore
My grey sweatshirt and sneakers
Instead.
This is my armor, suitors.
This is my warpaint.
You may not know that I want to cry.
But don't you reward me for my lie:
Don't you look at me.
Your gazes
HURT
Today.
Let me be the wall
Or that unoffending plant beside the window.
Don't you look at me,
You don't have the right
And I don't have the strength
Today.
Your interest disgusts me,
And that makes me sad.
So don't.
Don't you
Dare
Look at me.
You are not her.
Sep 14, 2013
Sep 14, 2013 at 1:46 AM UTC
They used wake up when the sun rose.
High and bright in the sky, the souls of Syria.
Kids gone to school, half asleep babies doze
Off, everyone happy, everyone loved.
Everyday of life, earlier, like a feast, celebrated.
Harmless, innocent and unoffending souls.
They are woken up now by bombs showering
From the sky, straight upon their houses.
Bombs filled in with toxic, fatal gases.
Killing those harmless children and babies
Of months old; who are yet to talk, yet to walk.
Desolating parents who dreamt a new world
With their babies, souls who know not a sin.
Bringing a war to people in name of rehab.
May 11, 2017
May 11, 2017 at 5:21 AM UTC