"vocation" poems
You said the anger would come back
just as the love did.
I have a black look I do not
like. It is a mask I try on.
I migrate toward it and its frog
sits on my lips and defecates.
It is old. It is also a pauper.
I have tried to keep it on a diet.
I give it no unction.
There is a good look that I wear
like a blood clot. I have
sewn it over my left breast.
I have made a vocation of it.
Lust has taken plant in it
and I have placed you and your
child at its milk tip.
Oh the blackness is murderous
and the milk tip is brimming
and each machine is working
and I will kiss you when
I cut up one dozen new men
and you will die somewhat,
again and again.
24.6k
A waif on this earth,
Sick, ugly and small,
Contemned from my birth
And rejected by all,
From my lips broke a cry,
Such as anguish may wring,
Sing, — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
By Wealth's coach besmeared
With dirt in a shower,
Insulted and jeered
By the minions of power,
Where — oh where shall I fly?
Who comfort will bring?
Sing, — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
Life struck me with fright —
Full of chances and pain,
So I hugged with delight
The drudge's hard chain;
One must eat, — yet I die,
Like a bird with clipped wing,
Sing — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
Love cheered for a while
My morn with his ray,
But like a ripple or smile
My youth passed away.
Now near Beauty I sigh,
But fled is the spring!
Sing — said God in reply,
Chant poor little thing.
All men have a task,
And to sing is my lot —
No meed from men I ask
But one kindly thought.
My vocation is high —
'Mid the glasses that ring,
Still — still comes that reply,
Chant poor little thing.
9.5k
Bring to an end of this
Game of killing!
Bring to an end of this
Game of power to exploit the hard-up!
Bring to end of this
Game of censure each other!
Starts and look forward for opulence of all and sundry
Standing hand in hand
Working with head, heart and hand
No one can stand alone!
Give us a chance,
to live in concert !
Bring everyone closer!
Bring new trust to moving together!
Transmit and get going vocation for concord and goodwill!
Dec 24, 2014
Dec 24, 2014 at 5:19 AM UTC
sound of waves crashing against shore
she says it’s the tone in your voice
sound of waves crashing against shore
he asks what tone are you referring to what are you hearing
sound of waves crashing against shore
she says i’m an artist too you don’t have to tell me
sound of waves crashing against shore
he explains i was simply affirming my vocation in order to elucidate why i perceive another way
sound of waves crashing against shore
she says you don’t need to pose or differentiate for me you are so ******* self-absorbed
sound of waves crashing against shore
he answers self-conscious possibly not self-absorbed i think it is intelligent to question everything to suspect all we see think we know maybe a greater mystery than any of us realize exists beyond all our beliefs
sound of waves crashing against shore
she says i think it’s time for us to stop talking
sound of waves crashing against shore
he says why can’t you make it easy why must everything be a fight
sound of waves crashing against shore
her ****** becomes a deep dark narrowing tunnel he is trapped in thinning air smells like ocean
sound of waves crashing against shore
her voice detached distant disaffected says fine
sound of waves crashing against shore
he questions fine? find? line? sign? can you hear me? anyone hear me?
sound of waves crashing against shore
she purposely ignores his panting gasping shrieking
sound of waves crashing against shore
later she tells the surgeon who performs the extraction then the police detectives who conduct the investigation she had no idea he was lost in there
sound of waves crashing against shore
unanimous jury finds her guilty she screams out at courtroom he was a self-absorbed dreamer this is all wrong
sound of waves crashing against shore
the judge declares mistrial dismisses case based on prosecution’s inability to refute so-called artist’s willingness to enter of his own volition
sound of waves crashing against shore
late at night she feels his voice whisper circulating through her body haunting her
sound of waves crashing against shore
Oct 17, 2010
Oct 17, 2010 at 8:47 AM UTC
In the divet between mountains
Resides a wooden cabin – ostensibly an amalgamation of the scape
Adroitly - I - quondam female warrior flit
Down massive (ancient) hand-laid, hand-cut carved stone steps
Bounding from contingent step onto the dense pad of turned soil
Tacit compliance between gravity and soil holds footprints bound
A compressed deflating crescendo as pace ignites with bounds
Cadences of protuberant wildflowers and grasses erupt from swollen terra
A winsome chromatic menagerie, dispersed in ecstatic fistfuls
A venerably ancient ritual
My nascent clandestine vocation
Personally meted out - a beatification for my provisional sanctuary
Along glacier-fed stream
Lissome fingers shadow inert stalks –plucking dormant beginnings from their desiccated ligaments
I am austere and unadorned save for a festoon of pyrite flecks trailing my semblance
Residual gilding from my ante-meridian swim taken after requisite gathering of wild blackberries, goose berries, and rhubarb along oft-tamped path
The sun, nestling into its requisite apex endorsed my completion
I reclined into the hassock of soil, feeling the elements settle about with an embossment of my form
Imposing verdure arched subtly as compressed soil beckoned hyperbolic flux
As I lay within the basilica of opulent living columns replete with comestible bounty
Lingering dew honed inflections of sacrosanct petrichor in unison with piquant clover
Wild purple clover buds saccharinely tinted and inundated nestled nerves in mine cribriform plate
Birds pitched and galloped through the frond tips and beyond in the lapis expanse
Frequently snatching damselfly’s and assemblages of midges from their ephemeral drift
Auspicious rays transcended stippled diaphanous gravid clouds
Light inundated ether entered humbly into the cathedral oculus
Pyrite speckled terrain beneath, and my bare gilded form above
Cast a refracted aura about my sanctuary
Precipitously the elusive vaporous embankment distended further
Ashen atmospheric correspondence inaugurated liquescent sustenance to my mountain abode
And I -
Lingered beneath the descending gobbets, curls furled in a puddle
Fresh topsoil cupping my corporal topographic contours
Pressing blackberries into my mouth between smiles
Jan 26, 2014
Jan 26, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Behind the eight ball
she sits.
Resigned.
From her pimp's
leash,
she's lead.
Deadweight, she feels
his ways and ills,
like cattle, that's branded.
Best she hustles,
or be backhanded.
Once molded,
she learns to light up
Big Daddy's cigar
and bring him his pie loaded.
More cabbage to fill his gold baggage.
Sometimes he spares a small leaf for her.
Though times she short, his fist takes sport.
And every night
she plays for the band
of her john's,
singing their song,
while a thousand ****** of light
inches along all wrong.
The nameless, faceless and most relentless
getting their fill.
A flower in her wails loves not fear.
However, Big Daddy's eyes are always near.
She knows better than to run
past the pasture gates
onto verdant fields,
free as a bird,
without a home, money or vocation
and ever so fearful of Big Daddy's gun.
A flower in her wails loves not fears.
As she remembers those first tears.
A Big Daddy's indoctrination.
It started off on social media,
a whim
a fantasy went wrong.
Three nights her body violated,
Big Daddy's cavalry,
descending on her picnic,
wax and whips,
a thousand ****** of might,
and the scream of the night.
Coldcocked.
Say hello to the new girl on the block.
A flower in her wails loves not fears.
Her youth robbed as the days morph into years.
Like a blur.
The guise, the lure, the drugs, the fear.
The trap.
Eighteen young became twenty-four old.
A lost puppy to her folks back home.
And every lost night
she struts her Prada dress a little higher
Big Daddy has a buyer.
Logan Robertson
7/27/2018
Jul 27, 2018
Jul 27, 2018 at 6:32 AM UTC
he is the guy who plants the rice corn and wheat
so each one of us has something to eat
at break of day he tills the many acres of land
for his harvest of food there is a great demand
he is the guy who milks the cows twice a day
to make the butter and cream for afternoon tea trays
shop sell these goods to people everywhere
his milking shed produces such fine fair
he is the guy who grows peaches and marrows
collecting them on tractors and in wheel barrows
he is dedicated to the pursuit of growing staples
which grace our kitchen and dining room tables
he is the guy that rarely gets much recognition
hard work he does and in all weather conditions
the man on the land provides our mouths with a feed
his vocation serves a community of need
Jan 14, 2014
Jan 14, 2014 at 5:18 AM UTC
Traffic came to a halt as signal turned red again,
I heard a small kid knocking at the window pane.
I looked up suddenly and met his eye,
My face turned frowzy - not sure why?
Begging for a 10 rupee note in exchange of a flag,
Scores of other such items he carried in his bag.
Something about the set of his face suggested a despair,
Maybe he wanted to say something but he couldn't dare.
Maybe his leaders had covertly kept an eye on him,
Thus flagging him down from expressing his whim.
He just pretended that everything is fine,
Was it because otherwise, he would've nothing to dine?
I looked into his eyes, which couldn't hide it all,
Gently I started reading through his eyeball.
The desire to be rescued from poverty and pain,
The outlook over his dreams to start all again.
The delicate and subtle hands were badly bruised,
The plight of his innocence had left me confused.
The tears went unseen and the voice unheard,
Aspirations of flying high like a free bird.
Three, two, one and the signal turned green,
He flashed a gentle smile and passed by the scene.
Throughout that day, my mind was confronted with the thought,
His silence was loud, apparently speaking a lot.
(Shayad uski khamoshi bohat kuch keh gayi thi...)
Who will provide them all the necessities?
And help them with their basic amenities!!
Who will find them a decent vocation?
Food, shelter, clothing and education!!
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 11:10 AM UTC
At 5 I was convinced I was
a flower
whose vocation was imitating
their final hysterical
wail
once Winter awoke from its
anorexia.
I pleaded my case with
a botanist
whose seamstress wife consented to stitch
a tutu of Kadupul
flowers,
like a fairy godmother warning of their death at
dawn.
At 16 I finally danced
their goodbye,
petals whisked off as if molted
layers of skin
and only when at the end I stood naked
did the concept of death have
definition.
Jun 7, 2014
Jun 7, 2014 at 7:13 PM UTC
my future partner,
Hi, I’m anna. I guess we’re co-writing this chapter of our lives together. I’m sure it’ll be epic. It takes a while for me to viscerally latch onto another being, so congrats to you for stealing my heart
because if I’m with you, that probably means I really love you.
I like sushi a lot, empty bookstores, and tea sipping sessions with my cat, xiaoxiao, who you will probably hear me talk about twenty-four seven. I hope you’re a cat person.
Within the realm of the arts, I like to write poetry and play piano. But my secret hobby is photography. It’s the best way to know someone without really knowing them. And if you hurt me, I’ll probably create an entire musical composition or a playlist of poetry about it. But I’ll forgive you instantly.
I might make mistakes, too. For instance, I’m horrible with directions, remembering events, deadlines, or anything unrelated to pedantic learning. My erratic and changeable moods can be quite the predicament as well, but I promise to be as tolerable as I can be through my storms.
I’m a biomedical science major with a minor in neuroscience. Assimilating an array of medical innovations, education, and terminology is, personally, my zenith of academic interest. I have a love and longing to help others. But sometimes, moving towards this ultimate vocation is strenuous and I do hope you understand how much medicine means to me. This means late night MCAT study sessions, mountains of neuroscience books, stacks of terminology notecards, homework, and paramounts of stress.
But I want to work on that. I promise that whatever I love, I love to a seemingly boundless depth- “from the tip of my apex and beyond,” if you’re into medical puns. I promise I’ll take you out to dinner, plan cute dates, and spend as much quality time with you as I can. I promise, we’ll travel to so many places, eat all the food we can in all the countries we visit, dive in every ocean we can find, and fly over every country we can point to on a map.
Most importantly, I promise to give you reasons to continue the chapters in your book. Because I struggle with that too.
Whether it be in a month, a year, a decade, or a lifetime...
I promise to love you, see you soon
Apr 14, 2019
Apr 14, 2019 at 8:42 AM UTC
my name is roger rabbit,
i'm fed up of my job
,head is always throbbing,
my best mate is a ****
batteries up my ********
make my ears vibrate,
sat astride a *****
intitled master bate.
i've no control or vision
as i get shoved about,
ears are always tickling...
smelling like a trout.
hate my new vocation,
you might think it's funny,
my other job was better,
when i was easter bunny.
Feb 23, 2010
Feb 23, 2010 at 11:19 AM UTC
Ostrich news.
Subtract twenty hours and where will we be?
a contract for the jobless
is all that I see.
Minimum rates
dictates from the top,
we plant the fields and they get the crop.
No education,no vocation,vacations
just vacant stares, where ability's a disability and an IQ a liability,
better keep your head low
and it'll all go away.
Feb 6, 2014
Feb 6, 2014 at 7:55 AM UTC
where did we go wrong
I know I can't stay here
I hope you take care
wherever that is
sometimes you makes me feel like
such a *****
that I'm convinced I'm even more sick
you laugh at slit wrists
but you can bite the tongue you bit
don't to bite the hand that feeds you
I wish you fed yourself self respect
so I could swallow and digest it
here we go again
where did we go wrong
I know I can't stay here
I hope you take care
wherever that is
you might find me somewhere
my plans for the future
includes a steady vocation
consider this a vacation
as my poetry travels through the air
I'll be making rhymes and cop
some flows
just hope you're not another
obstacle because you are the fork
in the road
when i need to make a right I make a wrong
yet continue along
where did we go wrong
I know I can't stay here
I hope you take care
wherever that is
yesterday was like today
but today I trust even less of what
these people say
I live in shame and take all blame
it doesn't matter how you choose
to play the game
the game plays you so respect yourself
and don't forget
what you're about
or where you're from
where did we go wrong
I know I can't stay here
I hope you take care
wherever that is
Jan 29, 2016
Jan 29, 2016 at 7:42 PM UTC
Tis a grand vocation
to be an inspiration
Tis a winsome aspiration
may be an oblation
May take some time
along with perspiration
Along with dedication
may come a solved equation
Tis a winsome aspiration
may come with some elation.
Tis a grand vocation
to be an inspiration.
Nov 26, 2010
Nov 26, 2010 at 2:42 PM UTC
Welcome.
This is your
road. It has always
been here waiting for
you. You're welcome to
begin this journey whenever
you're ready. There are certain
principles that you must remember,
however, to truly understand this journey.
First, know that you chose this road before ever
you came upon it. This is your path, and your path
alone. No one else can tell you how best to tread this
path. That is impossible. It is not their path. They know
nothing of this road -- Your Road. It is up to you to read the
signs and find your own way. Do not be afraid. It's an adventure!
You can't slip up. You can't ***** up. That's just not how it works...
Let go of your fear. Stop living your life in hiding, running away from
the things that scare you. Instead, live in search of the things you LOVE.
Love will always carry you home. Love will teach you all you need to know.
Love is your streetlight. Let it guide your footing. Follow the Light, your Heart,
your Soul. They are one and the same. And as you do this, very soon you'll see,
the further you go down the road, the closer you get to your Self. Closer to YOU.
You start to learn who you truly are.
In a sense, you remember.
This epiphany will shake your life to the core.
You discover that You Are Perfect.
Embrace who You Are.
Love who You Are.
Become who You Are.
This is your number one vocation.
There is no higher calling.
For from within, from who you are,
This world shall be changed,
Your life will ignite,
Your purpose laid before you...
Become whole.
Become Love in motion.
Become YOU.
Nov 15, 2013
Nov 15, 2013 at 6:11 PM UTC
I feel surrounded by countless fears
The world for me has nothing but hate
It's getting harder and harder to hold back the tears
For I have an infamous tendency to be late
And that's just how they would phrase it too
So holier-than-thou with their watches
In this world swiftly turned to zoo
Time is king and we are just the notches
My teacher felt the urge to inform me today
That I am late in every way
Late in my work, late in my location
Late in choosing my perfect vocation
And even if you try your hardest
Treat your task as a craft
If you were there the latest
Everyone will view you as daft
Well from now on I will try hard to be on time
I'll cut the corners and muddle through the grime
This problem brings me so much shame
And my peers always choose my head to blame
But never assume that I don't care
Do not believe I enjoy this flaw
For like all the great singers and witty writers rare
My punctuality will someday leave the world in awe
Mar 29, 2012
Mar 29, 2012 at 4:00 PM UTC
..
Violation seeps in through every pore
The girl feels like a common *****
As men poke and **** with joy
Manipulating their new favourite toy
They sneak close enough to callously drool
Then further, breaking the cardinal rule
She feels an unwanted touch
Then begins to cry, deeming it too much.
..
With a purse brimming with cash
And a covered sceptic rash
The pretty woman walks casually
Sheltering any notion of tragedy
This was her first day of vacation
From her new laid back vocation
Though if a client was to approach
She wasn't beyond reproach
..
Horizontally gifted
An archway lifted
Customized displeasure
In any kind of weather
Morals slowly give way
To the luxury of good pay
Loneliness takes a back seat
To those with a thing for feet.
....
Stepped in late
A darkened slate
Crippled by fate
And a desire to be great
She felt like a clown
On her long way down
Then she lost her place uptown
To the notion of a gown
..
Poor girl
She had quite the whirl
Had five long years
Which left a few souvenirs
One being a harsh complexion
and the other being a hollow reflection
Now she has the rest of her life
To wallow in the footsteps of a wife
..
Soon her son would ask what she used to do?
The mother would reply, to who?
Ashamed she would pace
Trying to save face
Confused her son would leave
As the woman ran off to heave
Sick from the thought
That one day she would be caught
..
Sitting at lunch
A bully prods on a hunch
Displays an image
Of his mother's visage
A picture of an awkward pose
Featuring the woman in no clothes
Others began to taunt
As the poor boy went gaunt
....
Over the years some would knock on the door
In a meagre attempt to score
A run in with a *****
Who would take it on the floor
Of course they'd all be turned away
But the pain always seemed to stay
It was shown in the light of day
To be many needles in a sole piece of hay
Jul 6, 2013
Jul 6, 2013 at 1:17 AM UTC
"By the by,"
Said Owl to Fly,
"I caught you in Spider's web;
I spared you for
I loved you so
Though my love would like to have fled."
"I thought,"
Fly replied,
"That you would ask
Not for my gratitude
Nor for respect-
For what am I?
But a lowly black speck to you."
"You may be small,"
Owl's lovesick call
Was nothing short of determined,
"But then how can I
Expect love for
I feast on rats and vermin!"
"So! Ah! We are accursed us
Both meant for solitude:
Me for my size
(Disregarding the eyes)
You for your choice in food!"
"Although,"
Owl stated
Not one to be bated,
"Perhaps we are not so fixed
In five years, or eight
We may curse our fate
And wonder how we never mixed."
"But, I!" Said Fly
"But what?" Owl replied
"I tell you,
I've not been so enamored
Of something not furry,
Not likely to scurry,
Since my last supper's end in a clamor."
"So shall we?"
"We shall."
And Fly settled on Owl
And the two built a life of compassion
'Tween Fly's buzzing vibrations
Owl found a vocation
To reverberate love into fashion.
Dec 12, 2011
Dec 12, 2011 at 5:14 PM UTC
This strange egg you've incubated
has sprouted skinny chicken legs.
It follows you around clucking at
every throaty word you nasty-utter.
Pointing and pecking at your guilt
borne by some years ago sin which
all others hatch from and you keep feeding,
Remorseful grains of misdeed shell grit
to harden its anxious green shell.
With no law outside itself the taint faint
heartbeat of your reproof I hear beating
like fear's unglued false eyelashes
You soft swaddle it with empty gestures.
It gestates in every grimace of piety.
I watch it govern your vocation of drab
and undramatic mastery of feathered illusion.
I want to tear shreds in your black satin cape,
To avalanche your fears into frosty exile.
Burn them screaming in the blinding white of
anemic unconscious,
the blacking out.
Hang a trophy **** of your winged demon
taxidermied with glass eyes above my bed.
My compass needle has lost your polarity
there's just a crude representation of pain
I will plant this seed you gave me, in Lethe;
The River of Forgetfulness on its grey shore.
A watery landscape without vanishing point.
Where a white heron will weep tears of sorrow,
like a human to feed hope's tender shoots.
Nov 4, 2012
Nov 4, 2012 at 4:31 AM UTC
ticket to the train station
tempted to train my motivation
singing swan songs for my salvation
toking for a moments vacation, coaching vocation
warp the world around my thumb
sway to the beats of my drum
angels pick me up, scared to become
all the things i have been ashamed of
iridescent sparkles that were judged as vain
steady shovelling the **** shaving down the over grown bushes
the path was there all along; i see her now
what the **** was i even doing
Apr 11, 2023
Apr 11, 2023 at 12:29 PM UTC
Whether drops of dew
Able diminish fire spark up in our home land?
Whether rice boil in well-off houses
Served the requirement of subjugated one of our home land?
Whether peace installed in meeting hall
Spread to countryside of our home land?
Everyone is in shrunken
With devastation malevolence’s follower,
Who dream that, they will make everything golden!
Therefore, my grandmother said
“We are just with soil, water and air
Don’t dream about gold or silver, it will wipe out your vigour to survive!
Go for vocation to nurture soil;
Bring in water, profoundly breath air...
You will grow along with other!”
Dec 25, 2014
Dec 25, 2014 at 3:36 AM UTC
cracked out
humble with heaps of pride
braggadocio Pinocchio
I haven’t slept in days
so watch the hours turn into haze
blown out of barely open windows
hide me from the world
I’m making a pristine machine - unbreakable
foreseeable as a weapon of poor taste
chasing wasted with chasers
are you shaking?
only with excitement
rage
hunger
My dad says get a job, get an education
so I chose a dead vocation with no hopes of vacations
and everybody is talking about the future as if it exists
it only exists in clenched fists and endless lists
of all the wrong turns you made on the journey
from then to now
I’m eating sacred cow meat - medium rare please
coming up with ways to scare these dumb ******* kids away from apathy
to put the shield over their hearts and the rifle in their hands
but wah wah nobody understands blah blah blah
shut the **** up for once
act like you actually have a pair of *****
even if you don’t
back in the day when we used to rob neighborhood garages of beer
and played with pills like candy
nobody threw tantrums about how unfair it all is
so you think the world owes you something?
the only thing it owes you is one death
so why are you wasting all of our time with your I could have saved the world
cry baby ********
I’m looking for slutty girls
pearl necklace on her checklist
so I can slam her on page verse
me versus the world, right?
left out by all the cool kids
drinking boohoo flavored kool-aid
so I made myself a parody of pretension
cunning, coming, ***********
you are the joke so I guess that makes me a punchline
I’m running sprints from the baseline until I’m throwing up the right choices
so continue with all of that angsty impotent sadness
so long as you stay out of my part of town
Mar 17, 2014
Mar 17, 2014 at 1:31 PM UTC
They remain in perplex.......
...... Year after year........
.........for this butterfly......
...... it will come and sit on the flower .....
No one is censure........
......over the period trance blossomed.....
Butterfly takes a seat..... on the flower....
.....to craft the route for a great continuity....
Both of them are now smiling.......
They have developed a new garden for humanity...
Knock down all the snag of cast and class........
Both of them are smiling.......
They tie the knot for existence, care and new vocation...
To creating a legacy of love and happiness.......
Today they are smiling under sprinkling of flowers and blessing!
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 3:54 AM UTC
You stay there and i'll stay here
we dont even want you to get near
block off the front and the rear
make sure no entry is clear
put a fence around our own land
make all other nations banned
shoot to **** so they understand
our walls must never expand
i'll stay here and you stay there
there's just no more room to spare
dont even try to breathe our air
we stole this land fair and square
==========================
Monorhyme
So much talk about immigration
causing fear and frustration
are we fair in our filtration?
while we let the rich vacation
humanity is lost in translation
causing a hateful sensation
just looking for some salvation
leading to their migration
some are looking for vocation
a better life is their fixation
then they meet our damnation
no admittance to this location
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 11:40 AM UTC