"wean" poems
In age of old, in time that pass like tides,
When Prometheus lived and Lo! He strived,
As thirsting for Heaven, he climbed its hills, and trees,
Clenching at the Sun, its spark he seize.
The leaves, they warmed, turn bright and evergreen,
As Prometheus, he to fierce fire wean,
Swell lips sip lightning, of the nascent noon,
And divine heat from his hand duly shone,
To Roses, who sing, uprise and sweet rebel,
In bloom to conquer, vanquish concrete hell.
A wish for fire, fulfilled, angered Zeus,
He thought the fire be given, not to choose,
That excellence with fire, laurel his,
"A crime against the Gods Prometheus did."
For glory of the light from Heaven sent,
The hour of his favour now gone, spent.
Smite down the hero, tear ambition down,
Old Zeus, but young ambition wears your crown,
For daring, striving why not badge of God?
The Promethean vision all time hath applaud,
It art of upper world, belong in sky,
Praise Prometheus as fire goes roving by.
Mind gilded by the golden, whirling thread,
You seize from Heaven, through the Earth now spread,
Bringing hope to hearts, life to the dead,
As for forgiveness of the Gods you plead,
For an uncriminal act and sublime deed,
The arrogance of Zeus? Need not to feed.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 3:14 AM UTC
VERSE 1
Another year has come and gone,
I realize now that I was wrong,
For ******* at you way too long,
Blaming you for us not getting along,
Arguing with you until dawn,
We go back and forth just like ping-pong,
About all of the crazy conclusions I've drawn,
Now it's eggshells we are walking upon,
I hate that you are distant and withdrawn,
I'm trying but it's so hard to be strong,
I know that with you is where my heart belongs,
I'm reminded each time I hear our song,
This feeling is one I wish I could prolong,
Your love is a drug, I love to be on.
HOOK
It's hard for me to say, but I'm addicted to loving you,
Always chasing my next fix, you are what I pursue,
I need to feel your high, I need to have you close,
I just want to fill up on your love, so I can overdose.
VERSE 2
Baby you know you are my everything, my high when I am low,
You pick me up when i am down, I can't let you go,
You really are the best thing, that I have ever found,
When I'm with you i feel like I'm ten feet off the ground,
Nothing can compare to you, babe you are the best,
But when I'm too far away from you, I turn into a mess.
To the point I will do anything to feel your caress,
And rub my hands across your bare chest,
I don't know why I do this, a different side of me emerges,
When you get me alone and I give into my urges,
Since I had a taste I'm craving you and no one else,
It's obvious I'm strung out, all my friends say I need help.
(HOOK)
VERSE 3
We've been staying up too late,
This addiction I'm growing to hate,
My mind is fuzzy I can't think straight,
I've even started to lose weight,
When you penetrate me we levitate,
I'm elevated, my pupils dilate.
I try to slow down, gradually wean,
Myself off of the magic inside of your jeans,
But hard as I try I can't break the routine,
I'm beginning to think I'll never stay clean.
(HOOK)
BRIDGE
I'm addicted to your love, though it's tough to admit,
This habit is one I'm not sure I can quit.
Jan 14, 2018
Jan 14, 2018 at 9:25 PM UTC
Off to the park a picnic yeah
three women a wean
and a man who don't scare
well not too easily...
as long as the swings
don't make him queasily
up the slide ok wee girl
she's gonna fall my toes all curl
nope she seems to have it dialled
little hurricane dynamo child
then the swings
for about12 seconds
three turns on the roundabout
maybe less I reckon
then back to the slide
God I am puffed
hasn't the wee girl had enough?
Ok I grab achicken roll
two bites its in a muddy hole
this picnic is turning out to be
endurance playing for Jeremy
tried the kids swing I got jammed
like wearing steel Y-fronts
my privates were crammed
ok so it was all my choice
I say in a funny high-pitched voice
"Jesus go up" I am told so I go
Only she calls me that now you know
where she got it who can guess
got an idea won't confess
(better than being a skinny Welsh Tw*t)
starting to flag like I smoked a ***
need an emergency sicky bag
go home soon and lie down quick
after picnic and playing I am quite sick
Mar 3, 2011
Mar 3, 2011 at 7:55 AM UTC
To write of Love, of Heaven, and of God,
Hills of joy, o'er which Angel pursued
Of that Boy, a sublime hippie shepherd,
Who in Heart the wisdom of Heaven had,
My pen, it labours, I give sweat and blood,
To paint world in cerise, a sweet red flood:
Or Prussian blue, depending on the scene,
Let Poets tell true folk from chess piece Kings,
Feign benevolence, when they are mean,
Who strut and rule above, superior things,
Who on the carcass of the suffering wean,
Drunk on power, Almighty sovereigns.
To write of Love, Heaven, apart from days,
Spent in drudgery at whim of Lords,
Who sit engorged by gold, wealth as they graze,
Upon the fruits yield by the mass, that horde,
As mass toil deep 'neath sun's sweltering rays,
To give and barter time they can't afford.
But they will be the ones in Heaven crowned,
As all time vindicates the plight of souls,
Who in port, or wine, have never drowned,
Rich gluttony the faithful mind abhors,
Upon which Saints and angels incensed frown,
So to tyrant's whims take pious war.
Jul 20, 2018
Jul 20, 2018 at 6:39 AM UTC
Fat midnight bats feast, gnawing gnats, and flit away serene
while on the trails in distant dales the lonesome wolverine
sate appetites as dawn alights and daytime's crystalline.
A migrant feeds on rotting seeds with fingers far from clean
and thereby’s blessed with barren breast (the easier to wean) -
her baby ***** an arid flux and fades away unseen.
Jul 3, 2013
Jul 3, 2013 at 4:14 PM UTC
nothing ever so lovely....
caught my attention so far,
though smeared and melancholy,
its splendor spoilt in mar,
yet they recite in wean,
the lyrical memoir
of the eyes hazel green,
brimming with desire....
May 11, 2015
May 11, 2015 at 9:58 AM UTC
Wee cosy, tranquil Gatehouse Library
Ah come in quite a lot tay see yi,
Tay read yir books and use yir wifi
An' chat tay Joannie,
Sae noo Ah'm goannie sing yir praises,
Ah'm pure dead goannie.
Ye're sic' a cultural oasis,
Wan o' ma favourite learnin' places,
Yir books can form the verra basis
O' Scottish brain power,
Enrichin' minds an' cheeky faces
O' Scottish wean power.
So let us pray they never close yi
Tay those who would, we will oppose yi.
We'll be the storm an ill wind blows yi
At sic' a crunch time.
The only closin' we'll allow
Is Joannie's lunch time.
Jan 18, 2015
Jan 18, 2015 at 6:38 PM UTC
I have come to the conclusion,
I might be the only one who can help,
if the doctor found out about your head,
the pills would **** with your meds,
I don't think your strong enough,
to wean off the addiction,
so the pills would twist you till your dead.
Council would help,
but you feel safe without the attention,
if people knew,
it could be fatal,
so I suppose I'm the only one,
who won't stop helping you,
so I'm your shot at redemption.
So what can I give you?
Vitamins and endorphins,
I won't stop trying,
even if I am good for nothing.
Sep 8, 2013
Sep 8, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
sitting alone under the maple, rain falling down on my head
thinking of her in a distant place, feeling her love all around
never a touch never, never a hug, only her words ever been said
how can it be this love that is true, within you that I have found
love struck, lust ensues, need to take you to my land of dreams
our land, we have found in a far away place never to be seen
only then where I know full inner peace, her inner glow beams
if this place is never to be found, then your love I must wean
wean myself off, to keep from being broken, no more hurt for me
I know the truth tho, which is forever this I truly believe is for us
passion, and love is what we have, our love is true I do now see
when I have you at last, I will make you mine I am so **** anxious
anixous to take you to my bed, lay you down and bind your limbs
place my man hood to your lips let you show me love with your mouth
your mouth takes me deep feelings of passion our love never dims
my dream, my fantasy, my love, you are my belle from the south
embrace you deeply, invade my love, with all I am take you hard
in you deep holding you tight, gyrations we feel of the night
fears fully gone, trust all I know, no longer on my guard
no guarding needed cause your love shines deep no more fright
Sometime soon you will be forever within my reach, no more distance
no more miles keeping us apart, wake every morning next to my heart.
one trait I have never had, I am now learning, with you is patience
Soon my love I will take you forever, I promise to you never to depart
listen to my song, the music I hear tonight, the music of our ***
a sweet filling I can envision as I invade you with all of me
deeply filling you ***** at last, your *** I need my muscle I flex
sweet ******** passion, we both do now feel one day my pet wait and see
Sleep engaged with love inside, heart to heart my seed buried deep
holding each other tight, to scared to ever let go of our dreams
holding you closer kiss your lips, close our eyes and drift to sleep
awake again staring at each other, perfect life, our love gleams
May 4, 2016
May 4, 2016 at 12:34 PM UTC
I thirst, but not as once I did,
The vain delights of earth to share;
Thy wounds, Emmanuel, all forbid
That I should seek my pleasures there.
It was the sight of Thy dear cross
First wean'd my soul from earthly things;
And taught me to esteem as dross
The mirth of fools and pomp of kings.
I want that grace that springs from Thee,
That quickens all things where it flows,
And makes a wretched thorn like me
Bloom as the myrtle, or the rose.
Dear fountain of delight unknown!
No longer sink below the brim;
But overflow, and pour me down
A living and life-giving stream!
For sure of all the plants that share
The notice of thy Father's eye,
None proves less grateful to His care,
Or yields him meaner fruit than I.
1.4k
screaming and crying, not on the outside but soon
I found it dad
I found your baggie of ****
the SF muni rolls past Mariposa St
I did not want to believe it
when I saw the make shift bongs
not **** bongs
how many of the ******* things do you need
I know it’s big in the gay scene to smoke **** before ***
but I thought you could find other ways to enjoy yourself
did your new boyfriend wean you on to it
I’ll ******* **** him
lock me up, I have always wondered if I would like solitary
you brought the make shift glass pieces to thanksgiving
you don’t even live with us anymore
but you brought it anyway
the SF muni scoots past Wawona St
guess you needed your fix
guess your kids, the genetic bits of yourself, were not entertaining enough
I could always think
naw, I bet he is smoking hash out of those
but then I found the baggie today
in a long rectangular bag I found the shards
I cried in horror
there was room for more than 10 grams of **** in there
so now I’m on the bus headed home
I run from the bus stop all the way home
all out sprint, hoping to run myself docile
It does not work
I get to the house and find a hammer
I decide to unload my anger on an old wooden door laying on the side of the house
I get a few good swings in before the hammer head breaks off, flying across the back yard
I’m not calm yet
I get to our garage door
and I snap
I see red, I scream my throat raw and I kick our garage door
I do not expect it to cave’
but it does
I feel the weight giving out against the sole of my boot
for the first time today, I am winning at something
I kick
I see my father
I kick some more
I see my father’s addiction personified beneath my boot
It’s face miming the expression, ‘Sorry, not sorry’
I give it one final kick and inspect my handiwork
I’ll have to come back out with a different hammer to fix the door before my mom comes back home from work
****
I thought I was a calmer person than this
I go upstairs and pass out
I want you to see my grandkids, dad
you won’t be able to while on that ****
I walk by or open my garage every day
every day I think about how such a beautiful man could come to a place where **** is the answer
Jan 2, 2015
Jan 2, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC
A big, dark creature is the velvet landscape,
Perforated, so that tiny origins of luminescence
Freckle the breathing mountain’s gently sloped nape
And validates the distant city’s inner flamboyance.
The spine of wet tar, peppered with lustre,
Arcs the creature’s hunch of a back -
It summons me to the city’s sordid muster
To wean me of myself and to render its flak.
Instead, I think I’ll stay on the footed side of the nameless beast
Where I can soak in my tatters and be but my own, homeless priest.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 11:03 AM UTC
I fall asleep before 11 PM and dream that I am grazing graveyards with my fingerprints that I thought were my own when it turns out they are identical to yours. I wake up feeling soft and I wait for you to get up so that I can take over the warm spot your body left – it feels to me like the soft and butter-sunken center of a pancake stack and I like that. I like you enough to want you to come back but I do not love you enough to pay for your name to be on my license plate. I want hell to freeze over because that’s when you said we could be together and maybe afterwards we could go ice-skating there? I will lick your eyeballs with snowflakes on my tongue and fire underneath my feet. I think about you eating Fig Newtons and laughing at Wallace and Gromit, even though I’ve never seen you do either of those things. I feel like you’re wrong about most things but I would think the same way for you. I am trying to become a smaller part of the universe and less of a burden to you so that you can dangle me off of one pinky finger. I mouth-kiss you but it’s not the same as sleeping on your stomach. I mouth-kiss you and wish I hadn’t. I mouth-kiss you and wish you were a caramel apple. I mouth-kiss you in a futile attempt to remember what my fifteenth birthday was like. I mouth-kiss you period. I will wean off of you – eventually, and wane, and waste away.
Nov 17, 2013
Nov 17, 2013 at 7:42 PM UTC
On harried days when our world seems unkind,
There lies a place my senses crave to be,
Within the shady woodland wild and free,
To ease the burdens of my troubled mind.
I soak much joyous sounds the Wood bestows,
Absorbing dawn aubades each songbird sings,
While zephyrs murmur notes like chello strings,
Beneath a harsh cacophony of crows.
Infectious woodland scents I fondly yearn,
A wily pungent fox peers with unease,
The sweetness of the wildflower on the breeze,
Against the bitter of the trodden fern.
A rotted branch falls crashing to the floor,
As Nature shows its sudden crushing powers,
Two butterflies then kissed some purple flowers,
Such gentle grace that startled me much more.
A speckled thrush begins her fledgling wean,
In search of ration squabble in a fume,
A worm to share with raised and ruffled plume,
She watches proudly o'er in perfect preen.
The sparkling sunlight dapples through the shade,
As if it dripped from sun drenched foliage,
A scene where light and shadows both engage,
Unleashing dazzling splendour on the glade.
These wilds intoxicate me as I stroll,
The need for drugs or liquor I decry,
Near Nature I am naturally high,
As Gaia lulls me to her leafy soul.
Dusk slowly looms, as daylight moments wane,
Return I must to cruel society,
The healing woods restored much piety,
This ailing mind refreshed and freed of pain.
Mar 20, 2016
Mar 20, 2016 at 7:17 PM UTC
A handful of stones are on my floor
some from today some from before
lets take a look and try to see
what the stones would like to be
one is an otter , I can see him
ready to jump and going to swim
next is a dragon tiny and green
only a baby, only a wean
one is a woodmouse ears all spread out
ready to run at danger's first shout
here is a kitten furry and sweet
rolling and playing all over your feet
here is a wickerman waiting to burn
there is a young owl ready to learn
one is a flower one a child on the stairs
another a rabbit two more are for hares
but last of all is the favorite one
well, that is for me, my secret fun...
Jan 22, 2011
Jan 22, 2011 at 8:06 AM UTC
Uneasy eyes comprehend the easy lines of the minds who dine and constantly define all sacramental chimes without a whimper or whine I decline,
To be invited reunited I decided to combust without a rush might find a crush more than trust isn’t lust tho we do tend to touch less than enough,
Belief to be discreet the preacher falls to his feet help the man stand or pass again without demand now am banned from their gospel, am without welcome to their church, reached the spiritual out come that can praise without a book.
Shepard’s crook has created a nook of who play with the for play, my forte no pay do the doomed approve, or wether sentence you to a private room where all disapproved can go loose as is pleased, feel the ease then recklessly leave believers grieve.
Feigning teachers relentlessly fail as they see their fallen students have trials on bail, as unborn babies wail no need to be ail is a chance of good tales unreasonable detail of all hail, praise the male, position fail while grows frail as have said..He bled, the sermonizer not to seem mean but he has dreamed to wean off the unseen, ruining the light hearted beam he forgets to bring.
Evangelist is common type unless it brings a bible fight of heaven’s fright the right delight a fearful night in believer’s sight they might reunite, domestic might be what we need the preacher pleads ‘Oh please believe’ we don’t take heed we simply need to take the lead and set again demons pretend all sacrilegious men, do forgive of what we do, faithful to you, do not approve of what we choose to loose is You.
Oct 10, 2011
Oct 10, 2011 at 10:49 PM UTC
questions pose themselves wherever you wander
and
seldom will you find the answers
you'll seach aimlessly in people, places, and things
but
the only thing you will discover is that you never knew what you were looking for
Oct 11, 2016
Oct 11, 2016 at 7:30 PM UTC
One must take charge of his or her own life
Someone once wrote that
Life, like marbles block is given to all,
However, everybody doesn’t know how to layered such blocks
Even if they read the manuals on life and survival skills
With careful observation, it seem that the local
women spirit cracks so easily on the small Island of Bim
as the men moves on to other women’s
Leaving many on suicidal watch
I visited my old friends, on the island as time permits
And nothing seem to change, they older folks
Weakness still shows:
they lives seem to be on a standstill,
The little island girl in me Grieves within for them
Over the years, I have grown into a stronger woman
I demand respect from my friends,
especially the men
Its more women and not enough men to fulfill
Their ****** appetites, so life on the island become a *** war,
Infidelity is higher than ever,
where the flying fish is plentiful
whereas, some of the women seem so pitiful.
Older men with younger women
The middle-aged women either have to join a church
Or unfortunately,
lined the walls of the dance hall,
or pubs
While looking for love in all the wrong places,
The nights slowly moves into the wean hours of the morning
while the Barskeepers promotes the beer three for ten dollars
Snip snaps sounds is heard throughout their establishments
It seems more like humiliation than enjoyment
In the meantime broken hearts merges all over the place
The only patronage that seem to be having a time of
their lives was the tourists from abroad, who show
signs of unsteady gaits; but were having a wonderful time
On the Island of Bim
The barbecues grills filterers golden spark,
the music
Entices the air
the salted breeze, balm our lips even
Merging with the taste of the Bank beers,
and it was all well
on the island for that short period.
However, with all my finding and frustration, nothing
Can beat cold, cold coconut water
or a refreshing Bank Beer
May 25, 2014
May 25, 2014 at 1:14 PM UTC
Even in the scabbard
The sword does not blunt
She sends a warn
When drawn out
Curve still sharp
Promises to hurt
An unruly beholder
She shall bleed you
Should you doubt her skills at all
Her forte does not wean
Even if your memory
Fails to recognize it
Even her silence is fierce
Do not encourage her to ring
She may just prove
All your fears!
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 5:48 AM UTC
#1.....His Bearer's Plea.
What would it cost to send a million dogs to war,
Than turn my babes into raging Beasts?
Leave the Boys to grow and revel in age.
Leave them strapped to their mothers *****
until nature run's its course and calls them MEN.
Without guns,rage and War pivoting that stage.
Too many broken Boys parole as Men,
building bridges without appeasing the gods below.
Too many hold life at its helm,
boasting of nothing to risk or gain,
Inflicting Pain to ease their pains.
Too many were sucklings before Wars came,
cruelly snatching them from their mothers breast....
handing them guns when milk was what they needed.
#2...His Lover's Plea
What price COULD I have paid to save my lover's head from being Twisted with tales of war?
the man I once knew now resides in a realm of obscurity
dodging reality, dreading emotions, refusing one ness.
A man with hands now Cold,
my skin forgets the prowess they possessed in the past,
a gloomy present looms.
the man whose weaning I continued, now bites hard till my ******* bleed, the taste of blood he now savours.
Cries of war creased the tenderness off my lovers tongue.
What did i owe the earth to be robbed this way?
What kind of man will my children call father?
Well....What will it cost to send a million dogs to war,than deny our babes the privilege to wean until nature calls them MEN?
©Comfort Amiso Pius
2018-08-29
Aug 29, 2018
Aug 29, 2018 at 11:22 AM UTC
If I can do with words
what your lips do with kisses
The pen will be a weapon
the poem becomes your weakness
So wean these words willingly
the way I hold to your lips
and savour the “ I Love You”
and kiss me, like this
Aug 2, 2022
Aug 2, 2022 at 1:02 AM UTC