"usury" poems
The diamonds shone like broken glass
Upon the midnight street
And all atop the walls were wet
Their white eyes glint & sleek
Then from afar a gnome appeared
An angel flashed on furry feet
The boulevard became a river
While waiting crowds began to quiver
I was in a motel watching
Whiskey in my hand
Her breath was soft, the wind was warm
Someone in a room was born
~~~
Accomplishments:
To make works in the face
of the void
To gain form, identity
To rise from the herd-crowd
Public favor
Public fervor
even the bitter Poet-Madman is
a clown
Treading the boards
~~~
Cold electric music
Damage me
Rend my mind
w/your dark slumber
Cold temple of steel
Cold minds alive
on the strangled shore
Veterans of foreign wars
We are the soldiers of
Rock & Roll Wars
~~~
Whether to be a
great cagey perfumed
beast
dying under the
sweet patronage
of Kings
& exist like luxuriant
flowers beneath the
emblems of their
Strange empire
or by mere insouciant
faith
slap them, call their cards
spit on fate & cast hell
to flames in usury
by dying, nobly
we could exist like
innocent trolls
propogate our revels
& give the finger to the
gods in our private
bedrooms
let’s rather, maybe,
perhaps,
get ******* out in
the open, & by
swelling, jubilantly
Magnificently, end them.
12k
Believe or not
Falsehood, suspicion, anger
Anger, bully, dispute
Unjust, pride, jealousy
Envy, deceit, backbiting
Abusing, exploitation, loot
Adultery, robbery, usury
****** curruption, treachery
Fraud, laundering and bribery
Eat up human virtues
Bring terrible ruins
Devour all faith
Lead to fall
And at the end
Push you into the hell.
..........BOOM............!
******************
20-07-2013
Jul 22, 2013
Jul 22, 2013 at 2:35 AM UTC
Hey flossy! Don’t offer this smile anymore
Mysterious smile torments the heart
That smile raises up the thirst.
If you agree to surrender all your mysterious smiles to me
In return I will return your love with the usury of love
And with time’s compound interest rate.
If you turn down to surrender your smile
Then know the consequences of it,
Taking incalculable stars as my co – operator
I will abduct the celestial curve moon on the land.
Hey belle! Don’t turn your face away
Tell me,
You will be the reason of how many wars,
And the cause of scrimmage amongst the juveniles?
If you don’t pay attention to me today
Then know it, You spectacular lady,
In the theater of mysterious smile
I prosecute for the execution
Of your heart snatching smile….
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 9:12 PM UTC
Tomb of a millionaire,
A multi-millionaire, ladies and gentlemen,
Place of the dead where they spend every year
The usury of twenty-five thousand dollars
For upkeep and flowers
To keep fresh the memory of the dead.
The merchant prince gone to dust
Commanded in his written will
Over the signed name of his last testament
Twenty-five thousand dollars be set aside
For roses, lilacs, hydrangeas, tulips,
For perfume and color, sweetness of remembrance
Around his last long home.
(A hundred cash girls want nickels to go to the movies to-night.
In the back stalls of a hundred saloons, women are at tables
Drinking with men or waiting for men jingling loose
silver dollars in their pockets.
In a hundred furnished rooms is a girl who sells silk or
dress goods or leather stuff for six dollars a week wages
And when she pulls on her stockings in the morning she
is reckless about God and the newspapers and the
police, the talk of her home town or the name
people call her.)
2.6k
David Foster Wallace told a tale of three fish. A large old fish and two young fish were swimming toward each other. When they met, the old fish said to the young fish, "How's the water. They swam on. Finally one little fish said to the other, "What's water?"
This is as important a parable as Jesus ever uttered.
While none of the fish can escape the water, the crucial thing is to be aware of it. We can't escape the water of usury founded capitalist consumerism, but we can become aware of it and change how we swim.
Minimalism is a way of saying **** you to the water. It is a way of saying, I may have to swim here, but I will consciously choose how I swim. That's huge.
A minimalist says I will live on as little as possible. I will participate in proletarianized labour as little as possible. He says to the usurers, I will not feed you through debt. He chooses to live (well) on the cast-offs of consumer society. He says I will not watch your lies on TV. I will avoid the State as much as I can. I will fly (as much as still possible) under the radar. I will live my life. I will live my truths. I will be me.
This cannot be done perfectly. It can be done in many ways and to many degrees. The trick is to realize how it suits you and then do it. Learn to swim as you wish. Be your own fish.
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 8:50 PM UTC
Lexical littorals illiterate foal
Talus and cirque shore and shoal
Iconoclast anarchy vortex knoll
****** matrix vertex peak
Semantic regalia flux and seek
Torrid allusions own and keep
Dichotomy paradox surge and swell
Primordial integumence purge and fell
Contiguity confluence dirge and knell
Reliquiae requiem show and tell
Accession assertion deliberative need
Transcendent ascension expiate seed
Subordinate ancillary exigency deed
Subliminal subjunctive sensorium seethe
Uxorious usury detinue blithe
Contiguous currency decimate tithe
Tractive proximity critical lithe
Delusory phantasm futurity kithe
Alacritous tactile acuity interstice
Accidence ambience resonance quipy pith
Scenario synopsis resilience gist
Endergonic protensive progressiveness rift
Prestissimo preterite retroactive gift
Poignant puissance piquant myth
Fable fantasticate legend list
Preternatural gesticulate proclivity pith
Propensity assimilate diabolical mist
********** fornicate zooidal mist
Parenthetical erudite erumpence fist
Quiescent gossamer lecherous wrist
Militant mercenary actuator aorist
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 8:04 PM UTC
Then let not winter’s ragged hand deface
In thee thy summer ere thou be distilled.
Make sweet some vial; treasure thou some place
With beauty’s treasure ere it be self-killed.
That use is not forbidden usury
Which happies those that pay the willing loan;
That’s for thyself to breed another thee,
Or ten times happier, be it ten for one,
Ten times thy self were happier than thou art,
If ten of thine ten times refigured thee;
Then what could death do, if thou shouldst depart,
Leaving thee living in posterity?
Be not self-willed, for thou art much too fair
To be death’s conquest and make worms thine heir.
1.8k
It is useless work that darkens the heart. - Rumi
And what is work for,
beyond survival or
occasionally joy?
It produces surplus
which is bartered,
traded and sold
until it becomes money.
The dark alchemy of usury
piles it into the hands
of the few who use it
to oppress the many
who created it
in the first place.
mce
Apr 12, 2015
Apr 12, 2015 at 6:11 PM UTC
Dead people are no doubt bored, so I'm sure these folks would be happy for free food and conversation. Of course, this is just a partial list, subject to addition and deletion. Feel free to add your own in comments.
Buddha, but a light lunch.
Jesus, but kosher of course.
****** come on, who wouldn't.
James Joyce, just to mock him.
George Washington, to try to catch him in a lie.
Hemingway, but just for drinks.
Reagan, to deliver some Depends.
Bakunin, for mutual aid.
William Butler, my ancestor who survived The Wheatfield at Gettysburg.
Audrey Hepburn, but a date, not lunch.
Ingmar Bergman, just to cheer me up.
Ervin Schrödinger, about that cat.
Shakespeare, because I've always wanted to meet an extra-terrestrial.
Ezra Pound, to tell him he was right about usury.
God, to let her know how disappointed I am.
Richard Nixon, so I could drive a stake through his heart.
Julia Child, just to hear her voice again.
Lenin, because he was a self-starter.
Mozart, because he would be fun.
Emma Goldman, to dance.
James Dean, as we look so much alike.
Janis Joplin, because I might get lucky.
Come on, I'm sure you can add to the list. Don't be shy, try.
mce
Apr 11, 2015
Apr 11, 2015 at 7:27 PM UTC
For every hour that thou wilt spare me now
I will allow,
Usurious God of Love, twenty to thee,
When with my brown my gray hairs equal be;
Till then, Love, let my body reign, and let
Me travel, sojourn, ****** plot, have, forget,
Resume my last year’s relic: think that yet
We’had never met.
Let me think any rival’s letter mine,
And at next nine
Keep midnight’s promise; mistake by the way
The maid, and tell the Lady of that delay;
Only let me love none, no, not the sport;
From country grass, to comfitures of Court,
Or cities quelque choses, let report
My mind transport.
This bargain’s good; if when I’m old, I be
Inflamed by thee,
If thine own honour, or my shame, or pain,
Thou covet most, at that age thou shalt gain.
Do thy will then, then subject and degree,
And fruit of love, Love I submit to thee;
Spare me till then, I’ll bear it, though she be
One that loves me.
1.3k
IV
These fought in any case,
And some believing, pro domo, in any case ..
Some quick to arm,
some for adventure,
some from fear of weakness,
some from fear of censure,
some for love of slaughter, in imagination,
learning later…
some in fear, learning love of slaughter;
Died some, pro patria, non dulce et non decor..
walked eye-deep in hell
believing in old men's lies, then unbelieving
**came home, home to a lie,
home to many deceits,
home to old lies and new infamy;
usury age-old and age-thick
and liars in public places.**
Daring as never before, wastage as never before.
Young blood and high blood,
Fair cheeks, and fine bodies;
fortitude as never before
frankness as never before,
disillusions as never told in the old days,
hysterias, trench confessions,
laughter out of dead bellies.
from Hugh Selwyn Mauberley
Apr 15, 2015
Apr 15, 2015 at 5:36 AM UTC
Waddley bimbely
Nothing is new.
Sometimes I don’t know
What I should do.
Walkily talkily
Human kazoo.
I have learned better
Than trusting in you.
Whiffily sniffley
Embezzle and lie
Authority snority
Let it go by.
Cheatum and beatum
If they complain
Skim from the top
Buy a new plane.
Hoppity boppity
Games of chance
Always let poor people
Pay for the dance.
Scrappity snappity
Selling their wares
***** about usury
Nobody dares.
Slippity slidery
Constant rendition.
Use public money
To buy politicians.
Graftery crafters
Buy media too.
Make some more billions
To see their way through.
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 10:09 PM UTC
In this world there is content,
Not peace resulting from ignorance,
But from of a constant epiphany,
A continuous period of bliss.
With No presumptions towards secrecy,
And the Creation of lies, forgotten.
A world with no language,
No value given to specific vibrations,
But, value of conceptual understandings,
Portraying only pure… hmm what’s the word??
Idea, thought, concept, want, need, feeling, mood, attitude, intention
Alas, the flaw of words.
A world with no idolization,
Presence of worship missing,
Useless notions of transcendence
And false beliefs of punishment, lost,
Without fabrication through
Generations of distortion,
And lack of interest towards justifying mysteries,
But only understanding.
A world with no usury,
No additional value given,
To luminescent objects which capture attention,
And marvel towards possessions of large stature,
But, in a world of such nothings,
What is?
A world of simplicity,
A pursuit of self awareness and want of betterment,
Without intentions of grandeur,
Want of greater good, without hostilities.
Thinkers, always in pursuit of truth.
In this world there is content,
There is not war,
There is no religion,
There is no frail mind,
There is no necessity of grandeur.
There is no truth or lie, just understanding,
In this world there are no humans.
Feb 25, 2013
Feb 25, 2013 at 6:49 AM UTC
#
Let it be the Mountain she finds Holy—
not because it sparkles,
seduces her
or speaks in riddles,
but because its dark loamy soil
receives her bare feet like a memory.
A prairie hill above the sea,
where grasses bow and whisper,
and the wind carries the salt and scent of things
too old for names—
that’s where the house stands.
Not built from stone,
but from time.
And longing.
And the laughter of those
who once remembered Eden.
Let her dig down,
as if the roots of a wildflower
were waiting to rise through her skin,
lifting her slowly from within—
the stem, the pistil,
the fragile yet indestructible bloom.
Let the soil speak to her in silence,
saying:
*You are still loved.
You are still alive.
You are not what happened to you.*
Let her turn toward the sun—
not in shame,
but in radiant defiance—
and know in that moment
where her help truly comes from.
Let her running to the mountain
be joy, not dread.
Let her ascent be not an exile,
but a return.
Let her wings unfold brazenly,
as the daughter of the living God.
Not tucked.
Not hidden.
Not compromised.
She does not belong to the mountain that mocks love
and feeds on the ruin of hearts,
or exploits that which is still unhealed
She belongs here—
where her own flesh and bone
become not only family
but friend,
through the common bond
of the soil that gives life to all who dare to sink into it.
She belongs
where peace lives in warm light on cold nights,
where cotton sheets smell of soap and skin,
and starlight sifts through trees
like the hush of forgiveness.
Let her remember her first love..
before the theft,
before the theater.
Before the wound.
Let her toes remember
what it was to wiggle in the dirt
of something unbroken,
unshamed,
true.
Let her find home again—
not in a place carved out for her,
but in the space she reclaims
with her own rootedness.
Let her petals unfold slowly in the sun—
but only with her feet deep in the mountain's soil,
where others also have planted their lives,
becoming one
in harmony of breath and memory and Grace.
She will not enter into a sepulcher
or a place that makes usury of her pain.
She will stand on the mount before the rising sun—
alone if she must,
but never abandoned.
And somewhere in the hush between
the breeze and the soil,
she may yet feel
the quiet echo
of someone still with her.
#
May 31, 2025
May 31, 2025 at 10:37 PM UTC
All Understanding uncovers
ugliness, usury.
Unifying utopians
uncorruptable,
unmoveable.
Dashing Prophets promoted
promiscuous personalities.
Promethus’s powers
persisted
purposelessness.
Do Postmodern proletariats
protest phantoms?
Puckering proudly,
pondering
paraphrases?
If Egyptians engineered
excessive egoists,
Englishmen evolved
ethical
endgames.
Tradition Rules reformed
rednecks, remobilizing,
romanticizing, recursions
rose
remarkably.
If Caesar costumed
cabals crafted carefully,
Christianity calibrated
circumferential
conflicts.
Vigilantism Unveils unlucky
usurper, undoes underachieving,
unemotional, unconsciousness
unlearning
unhumanness.
Every Tadpole’s talents
triumphs titan’s tricks
tip toeing
towards
truth.
Sep 15, 2017
Sep 15, 2017 at 2:58 AM UTC
They swim the cesspit
of greed and usury
mouths wide open
hungry always
for more
and deserving it,
too.
~ mce
Apr 8, 2015
Apr 8, 2015 at 9:10 PM UTC
she falls
she rolls
she falls again
fragile forgive
exposed honest
forward slowly
raw
is her skin
paper in this damp salty air
take her with you
when you find her there
warm her
in your hearts fire
warm her
slowly
your gentle wind
will ignite her
resting volcano
she has come apart so many times now
her pieces lay where they may
pain
and
beauty
they are the same now
she is neither
fool
or
wise
woman
or
wildfire
sweet sweet slow learner
uncross your legs
untie
the knots of usury
take hold of the ground beneath you
she is you
she is me
she lives in the smallest of places
she is wild in excess
a fractured heart will blossom within her walls
colourful
vulnerable
willing
learning
slowly
slowly
slowly...
Mar 9, 2020
Mar 9, 2020 at 12:32 PM UTC
Rather seek a mad climate:
happy, peaceful, elegant.
By brilliant abstractions lit.
A revolution must occur
in the people's minds
years before
the Revolution occurs.
Plant a seed. Pray for rain.
Life languishes
where usury pervades,
ignorance doth flourish.
The arts a septic sewer.
The marketplace a God.
Carcasses for sacrifice.
Remove base appetite
and this generation dies.
Send them on their way.
Flush the bankers.
Lose all interest. Live
to write another day.
~mce
Feb 18, 2016
Feb 18, 2016 at 8:06 PM UTC
Look what rises out of the sea
a land like a footprint filling with water
devoted sun circling into view, the mist-eater
scalds the coffee *** on the stove
hissing at its hot pedestal
and how much life is before you,
hidden in the bushes.
What are you that you are not changed?
A wet-eyed bird feeds its sharp beak
into the ground and comes up wanting.
The sea is full of chandeliers and sled dogs.
A girl walks, smiling, with an arm around
her dead grandmother, herself young,
and slyly kisses her cheek.
What are you that you are not changed?
All of the bees are dead.
All of the usury has been forgiven.
All eyes meet eyes across the room.
All we want is a mug of cocoa.
We all go on seeking.
What are you that you are not changed?
Joy comes from a bag, where you placed it.
The noise of paper drawn out and carefully flattened
reminds your fingers of their curious dryness.
If it comes from love it must have a source in you.
You are not a character. You are a pearl on a desk.
What are you that you are still here?
A train goes on through the dark,
between ****** old mountains,
foothills, really, and inside
every compartment is its own bowl of amber.
A rattle of track passes through any
foot flat on the ***** carpet.
A little chill. A little peace.
Every passenger reads a book,
and every passenger waits to sleep
with their doors an inch ajar.
Feb 21, 2019
Feb 21, 2019 at 5:24 PM UTC
Avoid interstates and airplanes
whenever possible.
Never clean your shotgun
while depressed, listening to
George Jones and drinking whiskey.
Visit between the thighs of women,
but do not become stuck there.
Remember that gold is only a color.
Consider that while drunk
is sometimes absolutely necessary,
sober has its virtues, too.
Assume that you are wrong
and you will probably be right.
Believe in birdsong and blueberries.
Know that when the chips are down,
blood is usually thicker than water.
Doubt the lulling attractions
of usury and power.
If there is any way to stay clear
of marriage and war, do so.
Pay no attention to this list,
make your own, take it to heart,
and never consider it finished.
~mce
Mar 31, 2016
Mar 31, 2016 at 3:00 PM UTC
"I have not taken a wife because I do my best to avoid disappointment"
- Jin Bao Seifu "Hundred Eyes", Daoist Monk
Men admire beauty and praise it so much that
they will aspire to unknown lengths
to
assuage and sustain beauties audience...
it is the enchantment of beauty that intoxicates...rare beauty admires
the substance of mutual admiration...
Beauty can conjure and secure
Sovereignty over a mans mind
&
passions...
should one interact in terms of
logical usury and apathetic cold-hearted disregard
Or
chance at tenuous love & possibility of competing passions
Do we conscript our fealty to beauty
by our
bedding and subsequent warm embrace
of
promised security and sustained endurance long after
the twilight of the nights ecstasy
spurning dew of mornings uncertainties
"Young beauty what can you offer a man not made to completion?"
"To lay my softness upon him."
Beauty is Prey Mantis
"Do you now desire a sip"
Dec 10, 2016
Dec 10, 2016 at 3:02 AM UTC
The exotic beauties of schools are also grouped into selfish, small-style sects! How many have already called themselves ********** Virgins?! He coded helplessly on creeping street corners while longing for true Immortality! Léah taverna-pimps gather Judas swags, which are easily obtained with insidious intent; who will drive the industry to nausea sooner or later, and it will be too late for those who can be saved! You can get a slap in the face for a cheap overnight swing! The usury ushers, small-style house angels, preach with responding lap-jaws! "Even a calculated crazy crouching Shadows turn into a camphor with dreams of whistling!"
The non-Golden Medium carries the shadow of swaying hangovers the next day! Light on the powdered faces of deaf people closes and the botox collagen starts to spawn; it can be lean consolation just for the risks of survival at all times! Hordes of men, with overbearing arrogance, scatter insidious handshakes, cheap promises, and when the age of proof comes back, they step down! Even today, disaster-prone melodies make us ********** dances, and it is not certain that the life-giving Light can still cling to the depths of darkened algae!
Great mouth heroes, diligent throwers can only scrape out the orphaned chestnuts for this present-day Present! The crimes of leisure pumpkins are swept under the rug with a calm heart! "Unruly, otherworldly brain evenings split into shards, and among the millions of small glass pots, gurgulans are the many pieces of the throbbing True Pearl!" Vigilant squatting dogs in the barn of vigilantly guarded alleys roar; themselves themselves can scarcely know who can be friends and enemies? Some troublemakers have retired already, and now it would be so good for a prophetic eccentric to be able to lead the way for sure
Apr 8, 2021
Apr 8, 2021 at 2:01 AM UTC
You claimed it was a missile,
Me, a shooting star;
I saw a pickle,
Not a bearded face
In the jar.
Some see wee men,
Approaching their islands.
Cubes floating
In the Austral Ocean,
Warning our hopes are broken.
Janus faced usury
Tear-up for the bear;
Politicos in the chase
Have two mouths on their faces.
We surely landed on the moon;
When we're gone,
We're gone for good.
Bigfoot's not in the woods,
ESP's in the guts,
All paranormal is psychosis.
Too skeptical's obsessive neurosis.
What's one to believe.
I see Jekyll, you Hyde Island;
These stories are so overwhelming,
Growing in numbers with retelling.
Sep 5, 2017
Sep 5, 2017 at 9:57 AM UTC
Thy conscience ofttimes estimates
Itself by itself midst dark logics
Of the old slate-grey slate of slates.
I am no creature of "chaotics"
Desiring to pry into dry changeable ways.
Fade slowly into that quietude,
That lonely but desired emptiness.
Be fainter than faint in solitude;
And accompany Misery at high interest--
A use of usury that leaves many dues.
Now come haunting thoughts of Oblivion,
Not a one canst I undo at all without your
Granting; and I cannot move with any idiom
Anything if you stall to so wish it or implore--
Because it is not mine, nor is it my decision.
Dec 27, 2014
Dec 27, 2014 at 9:11 PM UTC