"variant" poems
Her shadow
Washed in sin, covered in blood
Oh, what a sad little dove
Festering secrets, slathered in shame
Purity poisoned, life to blame
Born unwanted, a mother denies
Behind the shadow of our eyes
His shadow
In dynamics
Of dysfunctional dismay
Lost in secret family shame
These emotional contacts delay
That we carry 'til the end of our days
Cast in stone, in foundation of lies
All these shadows behind our eyes
Her pain
Painful memories of long ago
Though, I know, I must let go
Triggers upon the aching scars
That burns within an injured heart
Full of fear, in the wake of lies
All behind the shadow of our eyes
His pain
An unending twitch
The fast fading smile
The ever bleeding heart
Of a broken lost child
Carrying stones up endless hills
All these issue we're forced to feel
And stuff them down, way down inside
Behind the shadow of our eyes
Her darkness
Hidden is a blacken variant
Attached with unbreakable sealant
Of life's destiny, from the gods
Concealed amid, evolved facades
A mind, compartmentalized
Behind the shadow of our eyes
His darkness
Desensitized to life, empathy left poor
Bottomless abyss where my spirit now soars
Love is a dream in my abandoned role
The pieces won't fit my wandering soul....
The window to a soul hides
Behind the Shadow of our Eyes
May 29, 2017
May 29, 2017 at 11:44 PM UTC
you can’t right the same poem twice
hell, yes I can
in pointy fact,
only got one,
which gets re-righted
morning noon and evening-tide
substitute a variant spelling
wright vs write vs right
and the meaning changes thrice
*the only thing i can’t not duplicate is those **** love poems
each unique and writ for the woman specific,
each love one, custom jiggered,
each poem, crafted, to her pulse
each poem, drafted, to her scent
none alike, and that’s why I believe
in the god who commanded "create her"
to make love poems in his way,
gave me millions of veins, an extra ribbing,
of inspiration to pray to...
my heart altered, modified, daily*
**** poems
**** love poems
**** love
Feb 2, 2018
Feb 2, 2018 at 10:18 PM UTC
F
M
Agender
Androgyne
Androgynous
Bigender
Cis
Cisgender
Cisgender female
Cisgender male
FTM
Gender fluid
Gender non-confirming
Gender questioning
Gender variant
Gender queer
Intersex
MTF
Neither
Neurosis
Non binary
Other
Pan gender
Trans
Trans*
Trans female
Trans* female
Trans male
Trans* male
Trans feminine
Trans musculine
Transgender
Transgender female
Transgender male
Transgender musculine
Transgender feminine
***********
*********** female
*********** male
Two spirit
And
"Turquoise green tertiary spirited Eskimo"
Nov 15, 2017
Nov 15, 2017 at 6:33 AM UTC
reverence in poetry. everything to every person.
reader claims they can a necessary skill for
uncover the reverence. successful hypothecating and
in the scripts that (buying)poetry-creation outta nothing,
life straight hands me, tell them what thy want to hear,
for collection & correction, and they’ll call you laureate,
secretarial transcribing, instead of good listener
binding, typo correction or just a keen observer-fakir
mundane are the tasks, just take what they give ya,
that’s all them muses ask, dress it like Joseph in a
don’t interfere, taken what’s given, coat of many colors,
bow, curtsy, show respect, don’t let on your plagiarism
treat its aspects/instincts correctly is all them, redressed legally
you’re just the pass through agent, true you, gotta be smart about it,
patient for no payment expected, variant spellings, swinging verbs,
be our adherent, not our truant, be discreet, they’ll call your script
we appoint don’t disappoint, a real keeper and give love or sun,
accept our patent, render legit mucho poem emojis accoladeya
as for this reverence thinge devil in a blue dress, walk the streets
if I do my job ok, on any day, grabbing snatches of overhearings,
any poem could save a life, pressed into a single tunic, you think,
if I get the commas placed, he a genius, knows my thinking,
just right, the periods period, exactly, what a great poet and
while obeying the speed limit con/hu-man par excellent
them muses so **** pleased even fool muses, too full themselves,
by this true confession released, muses who think we stink and
and self deprecation, couldn’t do it without them
they call me reverend, great pretenders by stealing
imagine them silly folk, everything in everybody and
calling a big fat liar. all thieves and cape riders,
reverend, duh, the end original liars, pants on fire
before midnight and after 3:20am April 7~8, two oh nineteen
any message you send becomes my intellectual property, fool....
Apr 8, 2019
Apr 8, 2019 at 5:24 AM UTC
If you want to find out about someone’s character you ask them how do they gauge truth, or how do they know something is true?
Most will say because so and so said so, some variant of outsourced knowledge. Some "Religion." Some "Scientist." Some "Dr." Some "Guru." Some "Parent." Some "Mother." Some "Father." Some "Thought triggered by someone else." Some “Theory.”
Rare people will say they don’t know, they’re a bit more evolved because they see the conditioning. They see the confusion.
The rarer people will say they know because they’ve observed for themselves, not blindly, but with purity enough to observe correctly.
Sep 14, 2014
Sep 14, 2014 at 8:47 AM UTC
In hope
of skies blue,
vast and undeterred
are drying tears-
collected by unseen smiles
In threats of frigid
but burning ground below
is repentance-
A repentance found both sooner and later
One heavy with pastures of green- but none ever greener
In ancient words
from gilded pages,
bound in leather
hope and need
Are no ripe answers for the raging revolution,
only variant notions
shifting from here to there- and back again
The method of the three,
is mystery
beyond compare-
Black like the dark hours
that hide
the light of the day
Now and then-
all that can be done,
is to follow-
on bloodied foot,
over barren land
The aim of the carpenter
and his dinner guests
is and always was
direction
Purpose from an old- but new compass
in which one chooses to follow, deny
or silently go in search of other lovers-
all of a lesser degree
At the table of offering-
is space for bended knee
and an odd but abstract desire
for service
Not to self-
but to those who surround,
and swim in the very sea
in which the struggle
it is to cross
At the heart of creation
are mountains
and sandy crystalline beaches,
then city roads
All leading to country lanes,
fields, rivers, lakes
and vague dreams
Alas though,
no discernible
or translucent choice prevails-
All that's left
is the true and meaningful will-
of the weary traveler
Oct 10, 2010
Oct 10, 2010 at 11:48 AM UTC
Sixth Mass Extinction
Earth's sixth mass extinction event under way, scientists warn
-The Guardian
The headmaster has shaved his head egg-smooth
Shifted his hair to the point of his chin
And his sunshades to the top of his scalp
His petrol-station SAS sunshades
He often boasts he doesn’t even own a tie
And hasn’t read a book since Upper-Sixth
Something transgender post-colonial
About Guevara (who is on his tee)
Not a form master, but a master of forms
A way-cool disciple of Ofsted norms
Variant for the American Market
Sixth Mass Extinction
Earth's sixth mass extinction event under way, scientists warn
-The Guardian
Like, you know, the principal shaves his head
Like, absolutely, ***
Got him a goatee, like, actually
Cheap gas-station Official USA Navy Seals™® shades, mannnnnnnnnnnnnnn
Not cool, *** actually
I had to help him with the big words in Goodnight, Moon
Absolutely, like
Yosemite Sam™® on his faunky ol’ tee
His office has, like, stuffed fish and, like, football pictures, like, and his Dallas Cowboys™® baseball cap, like, actually
Jul 11, 2017
Jul 11, 2017 at 3:31 PM UTC
We sit in silence,
backs crooked,
the couches' cushions caving in.
The weight of passing hours
and minuettes alleviating thinking
in a miscellaneous metronome
ticking to bring time to a heaving chest.
Stay calm,
the pain of realignment will pass.
Burdensome they may be,
burgeoning wings will free you of...
Pressure collapsing this cage,
walls torn from studs,
leaving only this skeleton
surrounding us as we find delirium
the backbone of convulsing lungs watched,
earthquake mute laughter marring the faces
with jagged faults.
The cost of cracking,
we must accept the scarring permanent.
Breaks unplanned infirmities,
alone, our time line disrupted itself
and the heavens came,
tumbling down.
In silence,
we lay, arms barring
our escaping words.
Eyes overstep boundaries,
slipping through the gaps,
a second moment of
clarification fractures restraints
whilst beguiling brainstorms
sparked our interest.
Our tongues meet,
shyly.
rubies placed upon your breath
slipping against molded clay.
In sapphires
you and I hold nighttime
reflections of passion
contained in coal, waiting.
Ivory runs my length,
bending to ecstasy, breathing
shallow, asynchronous, failing
to find it's end in persistence.
In night
the danger dropped us, longing
that dusty light beaming down on
the show, Act 2 is
the comedy. Off.
Parallel parabola line diamond reflections,
allow for recall with brushed fingertips,
horse hair undertones realigning smiles,
abstract the paintings of today,
of yesterday, stealing away tomorrow
in a previous reiteration of our variant
indifference.
The wings of the demon opened
in symbolic solace, fell far
across this burning emotional
harbor, aflame
in angels' suicides.
We've fallen, taken knees to grace,
whispering eulogies the waves applaud.
Sands wash away to cupped stone
palms, caressing the troubled banks lost
in time. The blood washes away,
momentary marks, brown,
stained, it passes.
Demons foreshadow.
In their shade we are seen
falling into broken arms, sinew
stitched through hearts, still healing
strength gives way.
Our tongues meet
shyly,
this reunion a mistake,
now locked, staying stilled while
attempting apologetic phrasing.
We sit in silence,
backs crooked,
blank walls and barren recounts
crashing in.
Aug 19, 2012
Aug 19, 2012 at 2:32 AM UTC
Lush green of variant shades
cloud my vision with the hush of tranquility
There is no mystery here
only the simple drop of sunlight that can't quite penetrate
I can remember the times on this grass with you
when we stretched out in Nirvana
and I'm not certain where you've gone
but this blissfulness entrances me
enhances me
so I am one in essence with this triumphant fertility
that makes not even the slightest rustle
And here in Nirvana, I can crawl on my belly
keeping to myself
avoiding the bright sun
until I reach the newest dream
that whispers tales in the ripples
But here, ignorance is reflected in the disturbance
of a shimmering pond as a snake enters the water
and slithers across my face
There have been no creatures here before
and all I can think is what a beautiful thing
Leaves fall down and wither at my feet
branches brush my shoulders
and I am annoyed that they try to hold me back
All I want
is to glide my hand across those scales
to stroke that body before it goes
and I am left wondering
So I bend down before the pond
and I can't hear my peaceful song
and its' tongue flicks out to greet me
so so sweetly
and I can't understand why the snake is now laughing
or why I'm sweating
or how I came to notice that I'm feeling captured
not enraptured
So I creep back, and I run towards the brightest sun
and the snake is gone
as I break through the ferns that snap and whimper goodbye
and I see the edge to the unknown land
Maybe I could choose to strut forward or sink back
but I'm forgetting
I can't image the soft greens
The pond seems muggy in my memory
and your face is blocked, now we'll never meet
And I'm so fearful of the colours that I don't remember
so I plow into the mist
and I never truly "know"
but I can feel
as I lose my Nirvana
May 8, 2014
May 8, 2014 at 7:09 PM UTC
There exsists people
who live on the bread of
Inequality
Injustice
Hypocracy
Prejudice
Dear those people
I must say
you are really poor
A girl is borned
tangled in so many boundations
and these restrictions
are right from where
their lifecycle begins
to their deaths
Belive me these chains
which grab them
weigh them more than
anything
Some die
Some struggle
Some protest
These activities
are all variant
but why only girls
need to do all of that
why they have to beg for their
FREEDOM
why they are so desperate
for education
There is only one life
to live in this
beautiful world
let us not waste that
lets unleash those chains
lets break those cages
lets remove that handcuffs
and make this world more beautiful
Aug 6, 2020
Aug 6, 2020 at 5:45 AM UTC
the lovely picture window (always the same, always different)
There are painters who must,
having found the place, must,
repaint it, compelled to repeat it,
each a variant, yet always the same,
always different
I awake to a perspective that is wide,
always differentiated from the prior,
always almost similar, but never with
the same exactitude, differing attitude,
same longitude, identical latitude,
always different
horizon distanced, in all ways a view
encompassing, duality near, far distant,
harmoniously, eyes open, magnetized
to wake before 6am by the suns modesty,
first light, first clarity, a curtain risen, yet,
always different
am I so blessed or thus cursed, for the urge
to disclaim and ode, compose and thus self-
decompose, analyze, reflect, slice apart, needing
the comprehensive understanding this me/place
scripts the raw appreciation, daily differentiated
always the same
this peaceful venue seizures, chest calmly
pounding at the insistence it commands,
the price I must pay for the prize to praise,
to sing, weep, reward restful sleep with lyrics
eked out, pouring, unsustainable yet finished,
always different
a single May Iris, returns, born from a torrential,
thunder, lightning, sky mayhem, rises by a sundial
greets midst a planted clump, upright rises, lavender,
in a majestic solitary, absent but a day prior, yet mine eyes
failed to witness its discernible emerging birthing creation,
always different,
always the same
here, I am Iris too, always the same, a day aged,
but the differences minute but stolid actualized,
this overnight sensation, my body’s restoration,
what I visualize, indivisible, now visible, realized,
miracle of continuity, unchanging chained change,
always different ,
always the same
wonder, am I more blessed, or a s~lightly cursed being,
my breath restored, wet eyes full brimming, changed,
revived but always modified, a newer old man, whose
sum total always a different number, but in sequential,
compelled to confess, no understanding of this miracle,
always the same,
always different,
this daily visionary miracle
6:36 AM
Fri May 24
2024
Silver Beach,
Shelter Island
May 24, 2024
May 24, 2024 at 6:53 AM UTC
They built me, standard-grade,
But with one crucial chip missing.
While other models are made
Programmed for social networking.
Laughter and jibes, except
This variant groping in the dark.
Much signs to intercept,
Machine simmers, overheats, sparks.
Every version upgrade,
Alas, still just one step behind.
Patience in every trade;
Stranger, if you could be so kind...
Apr 14, 2017
Apr 14, 2017 at 6:19 AM UTC
Let me add a new definition to Bing's Web Dictionary today
let me start it off this way....
Because I saw it all in their faces and I saw it on her burial day.
1. I can feel it coming and many have no clue but by the end of the day
there will be many breaths taken and many minds forever will be blown away.
They all will come to learn the truth in the end, and after your funeral procession.
The private family members only get one chance to make it a lasting impression
scripted actions, looks, and a heavy carrying ****** expression.
This needed to be done no matter how strong there loving depression.
Everyone's jaws dropped to the floor when they saw the truth,
it was a sold out show and there was no ticket you could buy because there is no ticket booth.
Out the chapel, across the street and into the Catholic Church
upon the trucks they placed your casket as if it were on a perch.
Your Mass now comes to an end, I saw it all and now I see a painting right before my eyes
Because if you could see all their eyes as I opened her casket and took out the urn
you would see that, they were all stuck as I carried her through the family crowd
and carried her in my possession,
all you readers should let me rank number one and give me my turn ;)
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
NOUN
2. optical illusion: an optical illusion of a sheet of water appearing in the desert or on a hot road, caused by light being distorted by alternate layers of hot and cool air
3. something illusory: something that appears to be real but is unreal or merely imagined
[ Early 19th century. < French < mirer "look at" < Latin mirare "wonder at," variant of mirari (see miracle) ]
Thesaurus
NOUN
Synonyms: hallucination, optical illusion, illusion, vision, delusion, fantasy, figment, imagining, phantasm
NOUN
Antonyms: reality
(CARSr. 12-31-12)
Jan 2, 2013
Jan 2, 2013 at 1:34 PM UTC
.*of course i dream i fame, who doesn't dream of either fame or fortune... but... i'm sane enough to want to achieve that sort of stature, postmortem... what? with all the celebrity culture big brother ******** who the hell seeks fame while still alive? oh... well... there are the countless examples...*
and why would i take an ancestry test
of my D.N.A. make-up?
i remember the first conversation
i had with the father of my
first girlfriend...
how many famous Poles (Polaks...
do i look like something akin
to an anorexic waving a *******
flag?) there were...
i forgot Copernicus...
i forgot Marie Curie...
i forgot Chopin...
**** i forgot my own name
when i saw my first girlfriend's
sister walk down the stairs...
why would i do D.N.A. testing?
i just looked at what we eat...
and i mean we, truly,
it's called haggis in Scotland,
it's called black pudding
in England,
and it's also called
czarna kiszka (black intestines)
in Poland...
the Vikings founded Kiev
after all...
i like Nordic music, take a guess...
take a while...
my maternal surname is
Batuk... which is a Bohemian
variant of the Polak Batóg...
so a mix of Czech and...
Viking? the Goths...
if i had the time, and also the time
reference to reply to my first girlfriend's
father... while i was rudely
interrupted by the nymph that was
her sister... it's still a dream to me...
or what's called an arranged marriage
in India...
well... i would reply...
and how many Nobel literature
laureates... came from... England?
deathly silence...
you're right...
you're importing all this ******
post empire post colonial
perspectives and you have...
0 Nobel laureates in
the category of literature...
none!
zero! nil! oh!
yeah...
oh... really?
yes!
zilch... so zip-it-up, shrimpy.
i take certain words to heart...
sharpens my memory,
i'm not offended...
i just remember better...
you sometimes require certain
rubrics that are exclusive
and do not include
the rubrics of formal education...
this memory?
oh...
2003.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
little bird
cant fly; cant fly
eyes always
looking at the sky
Never heard of a bird that can't fly
**** up lil bird
cold soup;
is all u gonna ever try
feed ur lovesick heart
lil bird
lovepotion is losing its high
oh lil bird
dont freeze wen ur parents
tumble you into this wholehell sky
dont get cold lil bird all dey want for u is to find ur own sky
bt shame lil bird ur mind has found its own neverland sky
oh lil bird ;if u could just fly
i know lil bird how u like the high
jst try; just try
ur siblings are shouting from the sky
u watch them lil bird with awe inspiring sigh;
and u turn your face lil bird
coz u cant face d lack of same love u find in their eyes
are u not trying lil bird???? tell me or have u jst glued your
eyes to the sky
fear lil bird has it turned you to
a box of ice and u keep looking for fire to turn you from cold to nice
in the night ; hiding in the shadows comes ur fight
keep fighting lil bird searching for dat thing dat destroyed you
from the start
an enemy so variant even u wont recognize no one sees it lil bird
but u know lil bird how it is dat u hav to fight keep fighting fight fight fight fight fight fight fight..........
u laugh lil bird ...about how u thought once dat ppl were so high now u see them in the real light
dey got blood on their lips lil bird fools think that smearing lipsticks can make it hide
but in the same light can u see urslf too lil bird
******* off of ppls love to make u high
oh sick lil bird how is ur idealism
love is your drug; yellow avian
and u want it unadulterated even more than your diet
even a slight impurity; u r spinning out of sight
stop dreaming lil bird come back from d neverland sky
maybe dey r jst ppl
and maybe dey r jst trying to survive
even with blood on their lips
and even with a foot that has
never touched a shoe for life.
so come lil bird come down from the neverland sky
they will never know how it feels to see the world , and want to change everything from left to right, to see someone in pain and get their own heart ripped apart
or how a song can make someone feel alive
and how when you watch a movie and for a day become the character u like
funny lil bird how u remind me ....
and when you want ppl to understand you without words.....
watever lil bird jst come down from d neverland skies
Jul 13, 2016
Jul 13, 2016 at 12:23 PM UTC
.*thank god the English girls were into Pakistani boys... i'm literally off the hook... not that i was expecting to bang one of their hoards of spending outside a male sensibility of earning money... thank god i can double up with not being circumcised.... phew... uninhibited listening sessions to early Madonna, like some Duran Duran fetish... make-over death-metal... bass, man, the bass! the 80s snared the mark... woah woe... oh woah... so is there something to be bothered about? no? wh'aaah don't you use it... wh'ah'ah'ah'ah'ah... this is the part where i pretend to give a **** right? so i basically get to **** an oyster or a chattering clam? which one is which one is where i get reminded that i originate from eastern Europe, whereby eastern, Europe, is around the Urals, knee deep in **** in Russia? Copernican antithesis or something?! oh, don't let me down... i'm trying to get into the groove... you have your commonwealth fetish party, i'm the damaged goods guy... i'm the guy who'd make a great dog-leash companion but a ****** father.... well... don't know about a father, more like a ****** boyfriend... thank **** i'm not the sort to mind myself as: the desired goods; it's like... holiday... for 71 years; give or take; **** if i was the person, deluded, about fulfilling the role of a partner... no... that was never going to work... i'm out... the end... a big NO NO... i'm ******* listening to Duran Duran... if i had a girlfriend, she'd be in her late 40s for fuck's sake!*
not a lot of birch trees in western
europe, eh?
plenty of oak filled forests...
not many pine tree forests?
sure...
east meets west;
back east an oak tree
was... UNESCO...
western Europe...
not so many pines...
are there?
don't lie... i know there
aren't...
and there aren't as many
marshlands...
with marsh reeds....
in western Europe...
the air is variant in terms of
the perfumery...
but sure as ****
a lack of birch treets...
and certainly the oak
overcomes the pine tree
in terms of counted density.
Oct 30, 2018
Oct 30, 2018 at 11:04 PM UTC
I desire to soar high
In an iridescent sky
That coruscates variant gleams of light
When looked through different angles
Making me feel,
The same way you do.
Jul 26, 2020
Jul 26, 2020 at 9:41 AM UTC
What of life now ill days have come
and fate reveals its time for some;
our lives to date we could endure
but now it seems we're less secure.
The days ahead are fraught with fear
if there's no hope, there is no cheer;
although we ride our current state
that does not mean it will abate.
A way forward we have been told
is to accept the common fold;
get the jab then we'll all be sweet
and each other safer to greet.
For things are getting harder still
as this virus they can't yet ****
it seems we'll have to live with it
making the most of each minute.
The delta* variant somehow
is the one that's so rampant now;
being more transmissible and
getting a little out of hand.
It's such a pity for the race
now this dilemma has to face;
a slow decline of values past
as the future is shadow cast.
Yet life goes on we see around
people are building above ground;
they're making the most of the rate
banks are lending with in this state.
Who knows how long it will go on
this crisis that seems like a con;
they haven't done enough to stop
the virus spreading as we shop.
Stricter measures could be imposed
but that might mean more to be closed;
life as known may come to a halt
and our lives get a backward jolt.
The vaccines developed to date
are only as good as a mate;
they can't stop or **** the virus
but lessen its impact in us.
O woe be told! what can one do
when all of life depends on you;
man's guilt 'n shame have led to this
because of things hard to dismiss.
In times past the same has happened
and life then was also flattened;
it seems that man hasn't yet learnt
to live life without getting burnt.
---------------------
Mar 19, 2022
Mar 19, 2022 at 6:41 AM UTC
d'harga'h! urn! and sung clemency with the sign of the cross - Mr. Longinus - a baptism awaits...
in the Turkish shop buying my beers -
politics talk, gone Razza - Tahir -
talk of politics - deciphered a word:
Erdoğan (Erdoghan, Edrogrzan,
what was it - macabre radish to taste -
niechmaj sto Vlad'a reka na tle kiwnieniem raz!
i krok poza 'sztem! bogiem byka wybryk
szto?! - the crowds descended, and the kestrels
and the pigeons, and the swans,
and the migratory storks, and the seagulls -
for the Winged-Hussar Polonaise.
fluff of the wings -
the Mongol stench
reinterpreted - i rather be picking
ethnic mushrooms - kropki polka -
and koniewki - łopieniek & canary -
grünling in German, gąska zielonka - Pan Kleks -
or Chanterelle Mushroom - pepper shakerz -
kurki, tzn. te słynne grzyby.
the deviating kurka - or chickpea foetal
variant of fungus - or alias chick.
each time they pithy my assertion to claim the
ethnic brothel of Europe that Poland is for
the noble families - each time they undermine
the worker testifying the fuck-worthy ****
prior sleep - pride settles in -
and a long forgotten assertive builds up
to architectural proportions -
it just ends up being a game of throwing
copper coins into Scotland, potatoes into Ireland...
and dinosaur bones into Wales...
and post-colonial subjects into England, lazily
packed with the labels **** and Hindu;
Karzimierz Dębski could have said: it was never
supposed to come to this; shame that it did;
the safety option was exacted.
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 10:59 PM UTC
Can you settle for more or less if today was your last day
And what would be your retort if you were denied another chance?
How life introduces sobriety and the impending inevitability
The interstice and it’s ingress that encloses before your eyes
The demanding pouring of importune time
That soothing allaying sighs that evoke incalculable alleviation
If someone were to impart as they closed their eyes
As they died with a commital of happenings with not enough time
As to burden you with the impression of only one chance
It would seem and with the impending inevitability
Of your death which would subito compromise the day
A bearding contrivance plight of obligations engagement and commital no alleviation
An abecedarian dossier concealed for a long time
All this time the inevitable coinciding incident only for your eyes
The emotional habituation was of quotidian rendition each day
Of how trivial things take us on a dance with only one life one chance
With your attention and awareness on the answer the inevitability
Of what you are becoming with each passing second for each
Thought which transpires and no alleviation
Is there an epoch a replicating limn a depiction of our linear time
As we perpetrate and pursue progressively for our alleviation
Engaged to staying the course the day
Stirring closing in on our deliberate objective determined chance
Which remained for a terse duration from the inevitability
In which at the atrium of this erstwhile portage of a duvet to belabor
To stifle firsthand with your eyes
The variant from this domicile from this residence on a day
Is the vagabond to perish in yonder with no alleviation
Once man was a brute dullard or a curmudgeon spinster at a time
Which offers a mute disconnection ragged miscreant the inevi
Naivety or absent mindedness to somnambulist and its silhouette
Notwithstanding change
The quagmire and it’s nightmare the ingrate delighted with coined
Shunned eyes
Reputation with a flagrant obscene defilement galvanizing
The alleviation
At the heart of this lies another chance
A precocious inevitability
A man who lies to die another day
The annihilation in desperate want for from those argent eyes
To the starving newfangled optimism which in its sheen
Shines sunshine dulling the ocular orbs of time
Forwithal in befuddlement remain here
The time if infringement to comprehend the volatile vertigo
And the inevitability
The harrowing of hell
Glance at the shinning suns in her eyes intention considers change
After you heal and left are the cicatrix
Will you plunge further for alleviation
Or on the intent of regression once again
From long ago to another distant day.
Jan 23, 2019
Jan 23, 2019 at 9:20 PM UTC
Hate leads to more success
Ability to vanquish foes
Variant into worrying less
Every day is the life you chose
Having friends who are so needy
Always makes life harder
Though some may view as greedy
Each friend is one to barter
Have hate.
Jun 19, 2015
Jun 19, 2015 at 10:28 AM UTC
Below is the first of two poems inspired by this piece of music, this one from a few years ago, in the midst of my divorce. The second, the better of the two, is:
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/pachelbels-canon/
The music:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kllZlF6mB2s&feature;=youtube_gdata_player
~~~~
Bereft of words,
one more time,
concussed by the hammering of
cacophonous silences
disabling my thought processes
In vanity,
for when denied,
Le Poet-Poseur angrily asks:
Did not Mary
have her cherries
by command?^
But when the trees bow to me,
the collective of leaves mockingly
whisper sweet nadas, baby.
each leaf wraps my tongue,
in a sushi compote of sand,
"hush-a-bye, baby boy poet"
June chilled.
But not chilling
Today, on a overcast Saturday,
forces have mogged^^ me on,
transmogrified into a
Seventh Day Non-Inventist,
the creativity disrupters
Sadly,
Amazon doesn't sell,
original poems for redistribution
Pilings of papers,
variant demanders re my
labors past and future,
**** work-product of
teams of lawyers & harlots
Four years on, demanding now,
300 files subpoenaed,
need I say, they want me to re-tour my life my cuntry,
once more
Dummies!
these esquires ****** for hire,
my greatest invention,
my poetry,
they'll n'ere posses
cause I give it away,
domain denied
In need of a ****** shot,
drink repeatedly from the
Kanon by Pachelbel,
cannons of human-law
surmounted by the one divine
This note,
the work product of
Pachelbel & Lipstadt,
harmony restoration,
a shared refuge,
a shared refute
Welcome friend to
a place that cannot be
bought, seized, sold
Pleasure thyself with each
note, scale repeated
Though the reign of the heavens
doth suffer violence, and
violent men do take it by force,^^^
peace and pardon,
earnest reward of
poets who lived gently,
giving gentle, freely away
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 7:32 AM UTC
for Beau
this mixte bag of nutty facts,
compote of this's and that's,
fragrant but yucky tasting potpourri,
sordid assortment of
seemingly unseemly
random collection of
facts, whoppers,
recipes and formulae, and his 'n her
stories (my fav!)
useless motorized drivel,
running around my head
that you have with me creme-filled,
data conglomerated,
transformed by mongol hordes of grey cells
urged on, nay transformed,
by **** and beer into
a magnificent miscellaneous mile of jumble,
virtuous and verifiable grab bag of
ever so humble,
tuneful melodies of a medley of
snatches and patches
of Jagger and Liszt,
a verifiable pastiche of
vital and downright dumb
Factors and Factoids,
I thank you suchly muchly
musta taken years, maybe even
decades to collect and codify,
this assemblage of verifiable factoids,
after-all, took you twelve to
feed me in eye dropper ingestible quantities!
though with Wiki this and Wiki that,
I coulda save us all some time,
and since it is all on the Internet,
and any way 99% I forgot
like a cell phone number
no matter, I can reads and counts
and writes term papers downloaded,
but caught my eye you wrote
of a mutton stew denominated as
hotchpotch,
but we variant truants,
ici, aux Etats-Unis, on dit
and spell our salmagundi as
hodgepodge
but in summary summation,
thanks for teaching me creative thinking,
for without this skill,
I would but be,
a tool
of Wikipedia
and not its creator
P.S. It's gadzooks,
not gad zooks,
according to Wikitionary,
even them Oxford fellas agree,
tee hee,
you could look it up
on the internetsky,
Teach....
Jun 15, 2014
Jun 15, 2014 at 5:50 AM UTC