"waived" poems
From the black recesses of the earth
She rose from her long slumber
Icy death smile on her crimson lips
Face gleaming with wicked knowledge
Slanted eyes of emerald green
Glazed and mad
Her crown jewels of the dead
Bleached human bones
Encircled her head
Fine glass complexion of shimmering gold
She spoke the words of The Sleeping Three
Hair falling in rich waves down to the floor of snakes
The color of the crows breast
A rich purple ebony
Snake scale gown of finely woven human skins
Gathered from her poor victims sin
Wrapped round her lithe body
A thousand souls it took to weave
Awakened from its dark sleep
Spells cast in hell's deep
By a powerful witch
Who stirred the cauldron
Tainted with revenge
The demon was now visible to sight
The apparition appeared in smoke and orange red light
To bow down and submit to the witches bidding
The command never waived from intent
One of chaos and death
Slaughtered, cold in rows they lay
Pity for the one this creature seeks
Of a terrible perfume her heart reeks
That of blood and brimstone
Perfumed smoke and fire
The devil is her line and sire
So by demons touch
Plotting cold hands
She claims the souls of mortal man
More thread for her clothing
The beautiful demon
This poem is copyrighted and stored in author base. All material subject to Copyright Infringement laws
Section 512(c)(3) of the U.S. Copyright
Act, 17 U.S.C. S512(c)(3), Tammy M. Darby
Jul 13, 2013
Jul 13, 2013 at 6:08 PM UTC
Can I skip ahead in line, please?
Surely You can see ..
Plans haven't been going as planned
I've been roaming endlessly
I need not to say my goodbyes
They've waived me that dance, You see -
I tried jumping out of Earth last time
But I just fell back into the seas
It's like swimming in oceanic galaxies
Suffocating on infinite catastrophes
Just as my head reaches the surface
The heavens collapse over me
They say I know nothing of my tears -
Nor of the world I sense or feel
So they caged me deep within their ribs, You see -
They claim it is safer in here ..
My breaths are only fading, inside
My eyes have not the strength to seek -
The light on the other side of their flesh -
Of their flesh in which they buried me
So I have been roaming endlessly ..
Wounded. Lost. Cannot breathe ..
Befriended by tears. Blinded. I know not of sleep
I see souls in a queue not ready to leave;
They have exhales from inhales yet to be breathed
But I'm just an ink-less broken feather
Over papers I weep
I cannot write down my sorrows
But I'm sure, You can see ..
I'm ready to die oh Lord!
Can I skip ahead in line, please?
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 8:22 PM UTC
Somewhere along the line
it feels like I lost my poetry.
But I've always had a deep affinity of childhood curious-gaze with the light of a passing car slicing through a slumped drapery in the dead of a powerless October night
like a fumbling mouse with night-vision, glassy eyed, walk, walk, walk
run, run, run
scurry-rubber like an imperial humvee of red-carpet glamor.
Somewhere along the line
the freeze of a less-than-bourgeoise temperature never felt close to Antarctic
until the ring of a cell-phone became my national anthem
and the complacent all-eternity-and-everything-we-are-and-more reflective one-eye of a laptop became my national flag
I waived it with surrender calling to all nation states that 'I don't give a sweet ****
entertain me.'
watching politics like sports and sports like politics I couldn't help but hear the old Native inside of me scream in suffocated final breaths so I turned up the volume to drown him out
and when I wished to return to his comforting embrace, I found he had drown to death
so all I could do was stand over his wading body in the river of my mind and lax my shoulders in defeat.
I rang the midnight church bell of 'send new message' to tell the world that didn't care
the shaman is dead.
all they said was
'finally, the shaman is dead.'
I nodded, laughed, locked the bathroom door
and cried until the river ran dry
the shamans body so far down creek I could pretend to forget he had ever existed
the ache inside became a masked anonymity with the glare of Dorian Gray
I shrugged and said, 'I could never make time anyways'
and fell right back into my sleepy routine with another cup of coffee.
Nov 8, 2012
Nov 8, 2012 at 10:06 PM UTC
Just like Goddess Kali
I am feared when not
understood
my enemies know my loving passion are my kids
those demons slander me
fearing the mother
goddess in me
I gave life and inadvertedly heartbroken waived it
I give life
birthed my children
against all adds
motherhood apeaces me
injustice enrages my dance
I am Goddess Kali Karijin
~~
Precious daughters
Elena Rose Jeanette fear not
I save I protect I write
it's my frenzied dance
surounded by demons ferocious
you and me won many a
gruesome wars
to protect you three your
children alike my light
I have deamed
Remember Mother Kali
I love you miss you
more and more
and for you my life I lay
~~~.
The goddess mother
(excerpt)
~estranged from kids ~
~~~~~~
"The stars are blotted out,
The clouds are covering clouds,
It is darkness vibrant, sonant.
In the roaring, whirling wind
Are the souls of a million lunatics
Just loose from the prison-house,
Wrenching trees by the roots,
Sweeping all from the path...
The sea has joined the fray,
And swirls up mountain-waves,
To reach the pitchy sky.
The flash of lurid light
Reveals on every side
A thousand,
thousand shades
Of Death begrimed and black."
love & motherhood apeace me.
~~~~~~~
By: Karijinbba
inspired
by Hindi ink Durga-Kali
Shiva Lord's Wife
revised 06-5-19
~~~~
May 31, 2019
May 31, 2019 at 11:27 PM UTC
I see your kids
running around the table
screaming
and crying
existing on some
hyperactive wavelength that
exhausted adults have
waived from their capacity.
You sat there
making an art out of tuning
them out.
Quite impressive really.
Not so much could be said
for everyone else in the room though;
the rolled eyes
or deep, hollow groans
cursing your parenting skills.
The hell with them anyway.
You sit and enjoy your tortellini
and your fifth glass of wine
no frown or smile just
the blankest face
I've ever seen in my life.
Blank as,
not so much a canvas,
for a canvas was built for
the intention of being
transformed by color.
But you,
your face is the white slate
face of an unclimbable
mountain. It is
the forgotten
empty
dusty
journal of your parents,
stuffed in an attic.
Your face doesn't ask
for pity
or ridicule,
it only asks to uphold
it's sanity amidst
all the struggles
this life has to offer.
You'll get through though,
and so will they,
Sometimes it is at
the very bottom
where people discover
their greatest strengths.
Jan 27, 2014
Jan 27, 2014 at 11:11 AM UTC
Dearest jewels of my crown motherhood
Go to the nearest FBI office
Accuse all you call friends of a hate crime drugging you without you knowing to make you feel **** and think you are nuts hallucinogens and methamphetamine s do that
Do not go to psychiatrist they will trash you
your Mom and remove your parental rights forever a Susan and Arthur and Elizabeth already bought you from Haralsmbios a human trafficking psychopath sadist torturer like kiriaki and many more in Greece
Those you trust here in USA hide Crimes they are a team of murderers and thieves since 1980
They assimilated Jeff and John through drugs
Free yourselves.
They all are your deadly enemies they document all lies half truths use assassination of character and fear of your Mom to hide their crimes
They are who lie divide you and plan to ****** your Mom too for financial gain.
They made credit cards with your name in it to finance murders for hire ..
And tell you it's Mom buying thousands of dollars in clothes that's a lie from Satan
They are black mailing you.
to extort money to **** Mom.
~~
Remove your blind folds fight for your freedom take your children run to FBI office use me as a living witness I am on your side.
I love you all my children.
~~
~My Story poem.~
The greatest deception is calling everyone
a friend
Today I admit that from ancient times
am blessed to have had his intimate
piece of heart
thus my life was worth while.
I declare that even here
I was blessed with this
Outer Limits De-Javus;
~~
I am forever a grateful Mom,
granted to sacrifice my
love, my life along with everyone
I ever loved the most.
There's still justice to be granted; triumph waived
with defeat acknowledged.
Not only have I waived and yielded to every misfortune
but was trashed to the eleven winds as my evil enemy
lied to divide me among my dearly beloved offspring
planning as in above the law to profit from my demise.
~~~
By: Karijinbba
All Rights Reserved.
Jun 10, 2023
Jun 10, 2023 at 1:32 AM UTC
she was the first
to act as though
she wanted to be my beretta,
to hold a holster to my thigh
and accept the badge
of partner in crime.
she spoke without shelter.
pool days of marination
in monsters and taurus,
a kiss for pity
as i'd yet to be corrupted,
and she stole some joy
in taking what wasn't hers.
she was bigger than me.
she showed me
how shattered touch screens
can look like dried petals,
but cut like cold *******
and when you're in a field of dandelions
how they come in handy.
she wrote the book on flagellation.
she promised it was all for me;
calloused fingertips from
loving me with lighter fluid,
scratches for feral adoration,
and the damocles' above my head
or rather hers, and hers to drop on a whim.
she wrote a chapter on manipulation.
i wasn't ready the first time
she pushed passed denim
and plaid as easily
as she waived my concern,
nor the second --
nor the third.
she had daddy issues.
i still didn't know
how tampons worked,
or vaginas for that matter,
and so to be forcefully
and viscerally introduced to both
behind a tree in Henessey
****** up my brain a little.
she called it "mad week."
ear bud cables
became garrotes
around my neck
in the suspended
movement of a pulse
through my aorta;
and as every day with her,
i felt she crossed a line,
and as every day before,
i never called foul.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 2:07 AM UTC
Cords are becoming loose,
Affections floating the boat
To the island of Disappointment
Oxytocin no longer rushes
Staying stagnant
Until a trigger releases the manacles
Tied stiffly
Assumed there is a chance
But you waived the golden opportunity
Embarked on the journey
Of self-indulgence
Into your picked avenue
Casanova
Betrayer
Narcissist
Hypocritical Not I
But you showed me
I will decry
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 1:52 PM UTC
"Will you marry me?”
whispered her sly slivers of purple,
prestige and occasional lie five years later.
And had we not been asunder
that very same altar we’d sought fallen stars on
several days prior, I’d have said, “no.”
Sure, she’d brought a bounty oranges,
but could he, if ever, answer with the hand
that’d waived like the incense before?
He said “yes.”
Nov 15, 2016
Nov 15, 2016 at 9:56 PM UTC
With all the exhuberance of a child on Christmas
The smallest gift was received
Ten words on a page
Joy beyond measure deluged a happy heart
Pieces of a soul....more precious than gold
And in return
With all the exhuberance of a child on Christmas
The smallest gift was given
More excited at the giving
At the anticipation of joy
Waived off upon receipt
Forgotten on a page
Unread pieces of love
Bore holes in a happy heart
Chagrin unassuaged by reluctant glances spurred by pain
Longing for all the exhuberance of a child on Christmas
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 9:37 AM UTC
God is not dead
And neither is His word
It is open for all to receive
Not just a Christian nerd
God’s Sabbath is not dead
It has lasted since the start
The Bible and Dictionary state it’s Saturday
There’s no need to be degree smart
The Passover is not dead
It is the way to be saved
Only once, it’s celebrated each year
When the wages of sin can be waived
The celebration of Christmas is dead
For Christ wasn’t given life on this day
The shepherds were watching the flocks by night
But out in the cold of winter, they didn’t stay
Your soul is not yet dead
Just keep God’s everlasting command
Come to His great mountain, Zion
To learn how to rise up to our land
I surely am not dead
For I know God’s new name
I believe in my Heavenly Mother
And I pray you’ll do the same
Mar 28, 2015
Mar 28, 2015 at 8:08 AM UTC
As the police
arranged their shield
You stood upfront
and raised your fist.
Your demand
for humanitarian reforms
was answered by beatings
yet you resisted
and struggled
and clenched your fist
and waived your flag
as thousand marched across the streets.
Stones trailed behind you.
I'm glad you're not the type of woman
who burn a life
in the bar
in apathy.
Apr 7, 2013
Apr 7, 2013 at 12:42 PM UTC
Wreaths of mist swirled up into the cold air
As I looked at my grave in despair.
It was in disrepair and could not be saved.
Am I such a depraved knave that
I was waived my rights for a better place of interment?
I can not get over the convalesce
that this will be my permanent address.
I played the saint.
A saint I'm ain't.
No one heard my plaints.
But I heard your complaints.
Gave you tainted words.
No wonder I am where I am.
Wreaths of mist swirled up into the cold air
as I said my prayers.
A foursquare refusal to yield
to this grave, to this field.
To life and all it's strife.
To death and it's last breath.
I blocked my ears to the whispers
and it did stop the fate spinners.
Leaving destiny
at my mercy.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 6:39 PM UTC
I reached out and held your hand.
"Mom...I'm pregnant"
I felt your grip loosen,
and I was afraid to meet your eyes,
wide with shock, with tears glistened.
You stood across from me,
arms folded, ready for my big news.
"Dad...I'm pregnant"
Your gaze fell and you wouldn't speak.
We both knew it was too soon.
"Congratulations, Miss McNabb.
You're pregnant!"
I know it's true and yet it seems so unreal.
Baby Lost...
...And Baby Reborn.
I don't know how to feel.
Excited of course,
the obvious choice.
But also scared, and maybe paranoid.
My little Oliver Sparrow never made it
out of the womb-
taken too soon.
I tried to forget the pain
but pain is much too real to be waived.
There is a baby inside of me.
I have seen it on the black and white screen.
I couldn't help the laughter that bubbled,
when I saw its little hiccups and kicks,
the way it seemed to dance inside.
I believe in my baby, I can't resist.
My baby is strong, that much I know,
just from seeing its dance-
almost like a restlessness to be free.
My baby is loved-
more loved than I could ever hope to be,
and yet I wish I had more, more, more love to give.
My baby is here, and real,
and so is my desire to be the best mommy.
Baby Lost...
...And Baby Reborn
Jan 6, 2017
Jan 6, 2017 at 8:04 PM UTC
Then I went to city park
to feed breadcrumbs to pretty larks.
I brought my niece Elise
and my nephew Patrice.
Well we stayed 'til after dark.
My brother's wife, she called me,
so I waived the dollar-nine fee.
She wants her kids.
So I closed my lids,
and I told her that that won't be.
Sorry, I'm taking them now, they're mine.
I'm not wantin' to listen to her whine,
so I hung up the phone,
let out a moan,
said it's time to go, it's after nine.
The children asked when they're going home.
"Well, we're hittin' the road, going to roam."
After 77 miles of driving,
they both got to crying'
and I told 'em to SHUT THEIR FUCKIN' MOUTHS.
I pulled over the car at Oregon Shortine,
took the W. Michigan Cross to Madison
merged to Blancheflower Ave.
Wait!
I said stay right fuckin' there.
I opened the trunk.
And with a THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!
I bashed out their brains on the seats.
How are you, my friends?
I miss you, I was hanging out with some unsavory joggers,
and they always wanted to see some buffalo.
So I cleaned the seats.
I love a machine, I love a machine. I love a machine. How can this be, how can I feel so eruditely unclean? Is this the ends to my ill-gotten means? So how are you?
Then I left them lying there, across from the Lebanon Computer Cafe.
So I left them-
Advise me...
It was after all getting late.
My life is a net, my life is a net. I swirl and unfurl and stone the design, I curse myself, my heartstring facsimile. I played piano to forget, but my mind needs 89 keys to remember how to do that, and all I had was 88.
So I went to bed.
It was tea time.
May 22, 2010
May 22, 2010 at 7:07 PM UTC
5 666
407
972
89
451
3665
4114
The smoke of the last shot of the last gun of the last Soldier waived its white plume of Freedom today. 754 13
8 67
3089 1337
539
4 1
A piece of Peace in fashion for the War we wore. 578
It's all in the numbers.
Lovers.
Freedom.
A Father.
Brother. Sister.
900 Son.
733
Daughter.
145
Mother.
4417.
The Age of Terror is umm,
Accomplished.
Sep 2, 2010
Sep 2, 2010 at 6:27 PM UTC
From prophecy to Calvary... Christ's journey was decreed,
From Bethlehem to Bethany... the Lord fulfilled Man's need...
Jerusalem was yet in store... the visitation set,
The time for people to adore... Palm Sunday still and yet...
Beyond that day, Christ faced His fate... Passover to prepare,
Last Supper Christ would celebrate... Gethsemane in prayer...
But then, for Jesus, no way out! The Cross of Calvary!
Despite His fear, despite His doubt! Christ died for you and me...
It's prophecy that led Him still... for He knew all flesh dies,
But He loved God! Obeyed His will... when promised He would rise!
So death was not the end for Christ... or that friend on the cross,
The Lamb of God was sacrificed... God led Him there because
Although we've sinned, our sins are waived! Today, we're Heaven bound!
We've been baptised! We're blessed! We're saved! And yet we're still around!
But there's a day in prophecy, the Rapture of the dead,
And then we, too... yes, you and me... up to our Lord are led!
Denis Martindale March 2018.
May 2, 2018
May 2, 2018 at 12:22 PM UTC
an ocean cried
of crimson tides
and dried her shore
as her sun waived
goodbye.
Jul 9, 2018
Jul 9, 2018 at 9:24 PM UTC
Ultra violent
visions
of
grandeur
gracefully
spill the blood
of lost innocence
in the lust of the moment
I lunged for her throat
swallowed her moans
and left her writhing
in bed
beating her heart out
bleeding her love out
battling demons
of my ****** up
electromagnetic
heart
I left a war
in her head
waived the white flag
and walked away
Like God
leaving her to
her own
destructive
device
*Her Body
Her Weapon
Her Choice*
Dec 20, 2013
Dec 20, 2013 at 10:59 PM UTC
Its in your eyes,
Why so mercenary?
I see your mind,
And become the necessary,
Who am I?
What's my worth?
These questions I find
From birth I've been walking blind
Who were you?
When I fell behind
I keep moving forward
Try not to press rewind
One day in time,
I will find a light of mine
One night I promise,
You will see me shine.
But who am I?
And who are you?
Who are we?
Answers, I need a sign
Baby steps,
But don't get left behind
Take a right
Don't step on my porcupine
Am climbing up,
These steps so hollow,
Am climbing up,
But who's footprints do I follow?
Where does it start?
How does it end?
Tell me reverend
What happens when a demon becomes your friend?
Do you... Do you... Do you... Do you... See me? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Am at a beach,
Tasting the salty breeze so sweet,
Am at a beach
Feeling the sand burn under my feet,
I hear her voice, something charming in her voice
I see her poise, something beautiful in her poise
So am following her like she is the pied piper and everything else is noise
Am swimming after her,
She seems so alluring,
Am swimming out to sea,
destiny must be calling,
My heart is pumping,
Am breathlessly hulling,
can't stop now,
My mystery prize is stalling.
Am sinking deep
Fading into the blue,
Am sinking deep,
And can't seem to find a clue,
My lungs are full,
And my mind is walling
I find myself wonder
Will I be saved?
Can my sins be waived?
can I cheat the book of life on the very last page
After all, I never had a chance from my conception stage.
Someone drop a key for me so I can get out of this cage.
Do you... Do you... Do you... Do you... See me? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Who do I love?
Who can I trust?
Good Friends are loyal
But Family are blood,
But are family still blood?
if your DNA is mixed with hatred and unjustified love?
My love is selfish,
My love is grown,
Truthfully speaking,
Sometimes I just want to be alone,
this life of mine,
I walk on cold stones,
Just me, myself and I.
But you could be my co pilot
if you fit the role.
But I can't read you,
my vision is faded.
I can't feel you,
So I search for the dots on your pages,
Mirrors for the blind?
That won't help me deal with changes
Show me something deeper in your mind,
and I will free you from your chains and cages
Knowledge is power and ignorance is bliss
what a strange contradiction not to be missed
we only get one shot,
no second chances,
So am living it good,
like the blind man who finally understood.
Do you... Do you... Do you... Do you... See me? ????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 7:27 AM UTC
He showed
A Red flag
Then
A Green
Then
A Red
Then a Green
Till
I got confused
What colour I was seeing?
Then I remembered
the wisdom words
A sage once said
"A Real Man knows
What he wants"
Then I didn't even
Care
To see which
Flag
he waived
Jun 14, 2014
Jun 14, 2014 at 2:09 PM UTC
“The hottest love has the coldest end.”
-Socrates
You were there. Like stardust ever dancing in the light as if infinity swirls to you. Your existence declines my being. You waived all presences, defying the mnemonics of what qualifies existence.
You were there—not now.
Before, we were strangers looking at some abyss. After, we are strangers excited of what the future holds for both of us. In between, we are still strangers cursing all pains stinging our hearts.
Time inflicts its greatest wound: recollection. Malt ferments. Soul dies. Mind breaks down. Bubbles in beers imploded to every motion of the hand swaying, wishing it never touched you. Dreams stitched to rags given to wipe dusts and rusts. Time betrayed us, then and again. You were there but not now. Time cursed the being. Time stabbed us causing my heart to burn.
If only I can love you without time minding us all.
Atoms fall. They swerve a little, says Epicurus. Repulsion with others creates the world. That repulsion is a lasting encounter.
What holds that philosophy to be true is antimony. What holds us after all is just an illusion.
When I stumble upon old things finding some boxes, I remember you. When I see your picture in an old frame, forgetting becomes a sickness.
Is there a pill that can selectively erase your fading silhouette in my memory? Confession: I took that pill long ago. My mind fabricates immunity.
You were there in the horizon standing, holding an umbrella, ready to swerve from the rain that once made our love so cold and true.
I was there.
That night, the rain substituted to a poet’s tears.
Dec 9, 2016
Dec 9, 2016 at 10:43 PM UTC
He wept for her bleeding heart
when she had no more tears to shed.
She fought with all her might
to save him from his demons.
He waived his morals for her freedom.
She waived hers for his.
The ransom was their lives.
The bet was their love.
Until they didn't have anything left
but memories of what once was,
what could have been, what it should be.
Nov 12, 2018
Nov 12, 2018 at 11:28 AM UTC