"whims" poems
#
*Ebony
silhouettes
inked
by a dying sun,
portray
lovers embraced
in
the synergy of one.
Inseparable
dreams
slowly
morph into one …
subservient
to the
whims
of the compliant
heart’s
drum.
And
azure pools reflect
a
tie-dyed denim sky,
as
enchanted dreamers
seal
their love with a kiss nearby.
Twinkling
stars confetti
the
emptiness of space.
And
as darkness descends,
shadows
swallow all of the light’s trace.
Reality
pauses …
as
time seems to stand so still
to
the depths of their very souls,
motionless
they swim.*
#
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 7:40 AM UTC
when i have thought of you somewhat too
much and am become perfectly and
simply Lustful….sense a gradual stir
of beginning muscle,and what it will do
to me before shutting….understand
i love you….feel your suddenly body reach
for me with a speed of white speech
(the simple instant of perfect hunger
Yes)
how beautifully swims
the fooling world in my huge blood,
cracking brains A swiftlyenormous light
—and furiously puzzling through,prismatic,whims,
the chattering self perceives with hysterical fright
a comic tadpole wriggling in delicious mud
20.6k
My Sister, I Watched You Fall-2
My little nephew, I was sorry for your sorrows
When the whims of your mother stormed your tomorrows
You didn't know who your father was
Or why the branches of your tree sagged its paws
For you walked thru the halls of life mauled
By a lost paw that grabbed your mind and sadness walled
I could see it in your mind's eyes, the question marks
Of why other families have fathers at the parks
From the time you were a little child of two
You would love to go with uncle to the zoo
Then as the wheels in your mind started to click
Seeing other kids with fathers, it made you sick
You were young seedling lacking the nourishment
The parts of the puzzle missing fulfillment
But hear this, my little nephew, your uncle tried
And ... at the mercy of your mother's whims, I cried
We'd play the role of father and son
Fish a dream, toss the past, paint some fun
We'd **** weeds while wrestling through a reservoir of tears
Aborted in time, a lake, two swans and a duckling in good cheers
My nephew, I would take you around the world if I could
But hear this you were never, never driftwood
For I had spent as much time visiting you
In absence of a fathers touch, you never knew
I shed more tears today as I catch wind of your child
For its teeth bites and gust of whims, again, run wild
Do I offer congratulations knowing the lake is devoid
Of future swans and a duckling, walled in my mind's void
No. My nephew, I'm choked in tears that crawl
On the face of the earth, I sprawl
I thought you learned, child uncorked
On wings of albatross and not the stork
Logan Robertson
8/16/2018
Aug 16, 2018
Aug 16, 2018 at 7:26 PM UTC
I found myself fracturing beneath his fists,
Beauty beaten in hues of blue, purple and black,
Like clouded midnight skies, full of rain.
My eyes becoming pools of stars,
Glistening with secrets of pain,
Shining dully into the darkness of our nights.
Saturated with his snide, stingy, cruel colors,
I soaked in his venom,
Becoming canvas for the art of abuse.
And wasn't it beautiful?
These tears in skin hindered no smile,
Bruises like paint, enhancing face,
Pupils shining like diamonds,
Rough and worn, but precious.
Aching bones breaking to rebuild themselves,
Tongue red with biting back curses,
Rosy lips curved and sealed against apologies,
Flesh as hard and gray as stone,
Sharpened against wicked whims and foul words,
Aren't I beautiful -
In all my rainbow tones?
Sep 22, 2021
Sep 22, 2021 at 10:43 AM UTC
Deceived me not with your whims,
Act not as if you are a rainbow
to save me from my grim.
But yes, may be you are,
Because like the rainbow,
where are you when my heart
is heavily arrowed by rains?
Sep 18, 2015
Sep 18, 2015 at 2:53 PM UTC
Are we fated to dance to the same tune alone in our separate universes?
Is it true that we must silently keep to our preordained curses?
Are we destined to swoon at the beauty of the moon at differing time slots?
Why were we given invisible ink to connect our lives' dots?
Must it be that our lives revolve around the whims of the sun?
Isn't it ludicrous that we won't see the intricate webs we've spun?
Was it the plan that we exist only in our minds and hearts?
Why do we have to tolerate starting when the other's ending and end at the other's starts?
Has it been written that we can only afford to infinitely chase each others heartbeats?
Was it foretold that we're trapped in a singular notion that never really fits?
Is the game set as such that we can never emerge as winners?
How is it that the ocean was made out of our tears that flowed from rivers?
Why is it that with our entirety we believe but do not know?
What's the reason for the path made clear but we're too afraid to go?
What does it entail to possess the very least but yet you covet it the most?
How do you pride yourself in something but not allowed to boast?
Why do we frantically scramble to piece together jagged shards?
Can't we just play this blasted deck of lousy cards?
Is it destiny or cruelty to have found then lost?
Why does it seem absurd that we have all its takes but can't afford the cost?
Is it the thoughts that **** or the emotions that debilitate?
Is it the challenges we take on or the curveballs we anticipate?
Why bother when sheer folly is all it seems to be?
Why tarry when the heart is free and the mind is ready?
Is it ridiculous to have found myself still very bothered?
Is it wrong to question fate that had always bound us tethered?
Why is the good always bad and the bad becomes worse?
Is it true that the harder we fight, the deeper we immerse?
Has life turned to be but sad little rhetorics?
Are we but performers on stages coerced into theatrics?
Is it time for me to surface this one-man submarine?
Will it be so that if I do, my journey would then begin...?
Sep 30, 2014
Sep 30, 2014 at 8:38 PM UTC
♦ ♦ ♦
She was an earnest devotée.
Her ideals, birthed in Chardonnay
were globally diverse (read: white).
A liberal bark preceded bite.
Her crystal clearer than her vision;
she provoked bemused derision
as she breathed intolerance
toward all who would not dance her dance.
She swooned for distant pagan tribes,
attuned to their exotic vibes –
rapt in multi-culti piety
strangely deaf to her own society,
judged by her as abomination;
unredeemed. The background station
always stuck on N.P.R.
(the soundtrack of her culture war,
Pacifica News and Democracy Nows,
and other progressive holy cows)
Her motherland a shameful mystery:
guilty first, and void of history –
its origins defiled, corrupted…
while she enjoyed uninterrupted
freedom to pursue her whims:
misguided one-world global hymns.
The sisterhood of hu(man) kind
was foremost in her earnest mind –
even should that same sisterhood
be sealed by her well-meaning blood.
Out on a date with global death
she hoped to unify the earth
in solidarity with causes
led by killers, warlord bosses,
thugs she never knew existed
who, if she’d met she’d have resisted.
Her theory landed far from her praxis
spun, by default, on an evil axis.
Hot with zeal she fumed and stormed
quite certain she was well-informed,
at benefits, non-profit functions
rallies, boycotts, left-wing luncheons;
warm with righteous spite for Israel,
aiding and abetting Ishmael
with fellow-travelers, like-minded
similarly hateful, blinded,
rattling sabers, scimitars, axes…
(lunacy never wanes, but waxes
hotter with the passing years
as activists confront their fears).
She finally shilled for the Intifada
(stopping short of reciting Shahada),
reaching out to the terrorist
with righteous raised progressive fist…
offering thus her neck to blade:
collateral to be repaid
by murderers who couldn’t care less
about her open-mindedness.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 9:57 PM UTC
1:11am:
in my lungs you breed a pale disease
you are even in the air I breathe
3:29am:
heart in half chasing electronic dreams in technicolour screams
your claws in my teeth as I drown out my whims
3:45am:
and all the nights I spent lying in the freezer
and all the little lies we wasted telling each other
and even as you left I had not come around
I was the reckless wrecking havoc on wicked ground
4:59am:
last night I was flying around
dazed and dazed and dazed all over
awaiting my jewelled crown
adorned with the prestige of an empire
even in a new cage I could not throw you out
5:27am:
even as the sun rises surely troubles stay the same
even if you came back now I would gladly play your games
even after all this while all the daze you left me in
still you are imperial and my grailed heart it shakes like porcelain
Aug 10, 2015
Aug 10, 2015 at 8:39 AM UTC
I'm not your saint, I am the thorn,
I'm the havoc you will mourn.
I cradled your heart, and bore this taste,
I smeared the carnage upon your face.
I took control, I snapped your will,
I taught you ****** not to ****
I ***** the violence, I made it raw,
I captivated hate with awe.
I stole your disgust and made it mine,
put your filth upon this shrine.
I abused the knowledge, twisted your fame,
in hope that I could be your blame.
I craved your envy, seduced your lust,
I shattered the belief that held your trust.
I made you all of which that you are not,
I am the decay which your body will rot.
Sabotaged your tender whims to mend,
to prove to you, that I do not bend.
Who had the control, was it me or you,
I will show you just what love can do.
Make you a God and then tear you down,
Lets show the world your painted crown.
The throne of cardboard, easy to inflame,
Your blood of Calvary, a stench of shame.
Nov 14, 2012
Nov 14, 2012 at 6:00 PM UTC
There's a flower in between the rocks
Undesireable unless one seek the flower
In cravices in the shadows of ***** towers
Procure trade on whims of nameless men
Openly or in disguise she thrives due to
Demands, in decadence of her world
The underworld enslave her soul
Like the geisha in *******
Decries a social stigma
Imposing upon her
Remove her off
The streets if
you will
But
She
Will
Come
Back sprouting
Amongst people and rocks
Enticing yet perceived as weeds still.
Feb 5, 2018
Feb 5, 2018 at 6:51 AM UTC
I wish for a hug...
One that lasts only mere seconds.
Yet could only mean nothing
but eternity.
I long for a hug...
One that finds me struggling,
and offers the line that'll hoist me up
so that the whims of the world
would simply fall away.
I yearn for a hug...
An embrace that grants me the briefest
moment of solace.
Amidst the clamour and chaos
that overwhelm.
I want a hug...
One that's unconditional.
One that'll just take me in, as I am.
One that wouldn't cringe
at the misfit of my bones.
One that wouldn't judge
if our heartbeats don't
thump in sync.
Apr 12, 2016
Apr 12, 2016 at 11:37 AM UTC
you can’t resist
you’re reminded
every morning
with a *****
you’re physically strong
but sexually weak
confused, by my wiles
yielding, to my whims
you think
you’re in charge
all the while
submitting
to my pleasures
surrender
acquiesce
acknowledge
i am
your superior
Feb 9, 2022
Feb 9, 2022 at 8:43 PM UTC
Shackled by whims and desires.
The selfless and the selfish, Danse Macabre.
Who holds the key to these manacles?
Is it me?
Or is it you?
You are the spider and I dance through your tangled web of desire.
But your desires cannot be sated by my sacrificial offerings.
Do you desire at all, my dear?
You skitter through the woven webs, devouring the innocents trapped in silken tombs.
I beg of you master, please, show your mercy to your subservient.
Release me so I may release you.
******* is not becoming of you.
1/1/2016
Jan 4, 2016
Jan 4, 2016 at 11:23 PM UTC
Oversharing on your social feed
Everyone knows your wants and needs
Save for those who really care
To the rest of us you need not bear
Your lunch and dinner were had, we see
Relationship status updated several times a week
How can it be?
I remember a day we shared with ourselves
Worries and whims on paper with pen
In a book called a journal or diary
it would have been
Discreet it was then
As it should be again
I can't wait for the sharing to end.
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 2:26 PM UTC
She bares her soul
to no one —
a façade for each mood
that infests her thoughts
like the plague;
reticence stalks her
every now and then,
as she tries shying away
from her darkest
secrets ripe as cherries
hanging from the bough…
a charade of whims
planted mysteriously
on her sealed lips.
Feb 10, 2015
Feb 10, 2015 at 6:24 AM UTC
The chicken watches the crow fly away-
And it longs and it wishes.
Because the crow can go freely at will,
While the chicken can hardly flap to the fence.
The chicken will stay
For likely all of her days
While the crow comes and goes
Whenever he desires.
He lives a life on whims-
A life of scouring the world for what suits him.
While she's stuck in routine,
Only getting what's handed right to her
Aug 16, 2014
Aug 16, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
What has become of us
Amidst the hustle and bustle of city life
When did evolution condone us to regress into a state
Of uncalculated caucus
As we meander our way through the rapids of life
Rapid
Is hardly a best-fit descriptor
For we are past the point of speed
We mill around like headless horses
Buzzing bees
Stinging roaches
Fallen leaves
Roaring lions
Try to lead
But fail
Like cottons fighting breeze
Is this all we are?
Is this what we were made for?
To quickly climb the climb
And await the graceless fall
Parachutes prepared for praise
But our pride prevents and prevails
Till the day I climb the ladder
Shall I not attempt to see
What the view at the top might be like
I fear it enthralls me
But then reality strikes like a maddening blaze
And suddenly I see
That I'm well on my way up the hill
As I swing from bridge to bridge
Is this the way to live?
Uncautious steps with kleptomaniac ease
As we take what we desire
From our capitalistic divider
Though we hate to be the same
Not at all do we differ
Are we not all blinded mice
With a tetra-human vice
Spiders apt at spinning lies
Banking life on Friday highs
All around me boring beasts
Lost to whims, to say the least
What I fear most is the day
I give in and join the race
Is the day I eat my heart out
Just to enjoy the highest gaze
Till then here trapped in the zoo
Enclosure encasing truth
Finding fault with every human till the day I conform too
Sep 26, 2014
Sep 26, 2014 at 8:12 AM UTC
The spectrum of colors
carpet the garden
Flowers can mean anything to us
Flowers can be
Hope
Love
Mourning
Joy
Peace
Rebellion
Family.
But in the end,flowers are only flowers
Innocent and oblivious to
human whims
They grow for the sake of the flowers,
and only the flowers.
We coax them and tame them and pick them and give them meaning
but they don't understand us.
How would they?
We do not speak the tongue of the flowers
And if we did,would they have words for human emotion?
They wouldn't care
Anyway
They don't need to understand us
We would still make flowers our symbols
And they would look on
As if we were beneath them.
Dec 11, 2014
Dec 11, 2014 at 1:42 AM UTC
Emotions from beyond are slowly seeping in,
spilling over my conscious,
dripping on my skin.
I want to taste it on your lips,
I want to hear it when you breathe.
I have scaled every beat you missed,
I have heard your whispers and whims,
still familiar with what are your needs in play.
Your lips feel like ripples on my neck,
divine interventions I cannot say.
Unlike any twilight skies I have seen,
your beauty is the only hue
I cannot unsee.
All I want is you right now,
this need is killing me now.
Waiting,
with my emotions in chains,
if I let them fly,
you might forget the lines
of lust and pain.
You are the only one,
to quench my thirst
so, make me wait no more
or else the demons might lose their cage,
the chains might fade with age,
you won’t be able to hold me back,
once the chains unclutter,
It’s either you till dawn or
or until I have you for supper.
Let me hold you close,
Let me hear you say,
“I will cleanse you of your sins,
the sins in love you are too afraid to say
the sins from our timeless yesterday.”
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 11:32 AM UTC
How beautiful is the
Rose flower of my heart,
She is more beautiful
Than the flowers in Aburi,
How beautiful is the
Mother of my heart,
She is a blessing to her family,
How beautiful is her
Dusky looking bark,
Her brave stands for justice
Like Yaa Asantewaa,
How beautiful are my lover’s lips,
Just like that of Frimpomaa,
How beautiful is the lady
Whose beauty Brightens
My heart like her words,
She flourishes like
Koforidua flowers,
How beautiful is the lady whose
Love can control my queer destiny,
She is like unto Nyarkowaa,
How beautiful is the convex hips of the
Lady who can make me go crazy,
She is like unto Adwoba,
How beautiful is the lady who can
Make me disobey my creator,
She is like unto Makeda,
How beautiful is the lady who has
The power to make me loose hope,
She is like unto Daehafi,
How beautiful is my blessed lover,
She is highly favoured like unto Sekina,
How beautiful is the queen of my heart,
She is reliable like unto Cleopatra,
How beautiful is my lover who causes
The will of the Gods to come to pass,
She is like unto the Timbuktu woman,
How beautiful is my lover,
She has faith like unto seed,
How beautiful is my butterfly,
Her love is stronger than tens
Of thousands of chariot
Descending from mountain Afajato,
How beautiful is the
Keeper of my heart,
She has the power to
Break my heart like Nefertiti,
How beautiful is the
Keeper of my love,
She is a mother of all
Generation like Ma’at,
How beautiful is my lover,
She is faithful like the air,
How beautiful my lover is,
She tastes like salt in my mouth,
How beautiful is my lover,
Her face turns me
On like a ripe mango,
How beautiful is my lover,
She has the power to make
Me do things against my will
Just like the seasonal rainfall,
How beautiful is my lover,
The secret to her love
And affection is still unknown,
How beautiful is my lover,
Her desires are subject to her lover’s
Whims and caprices,
How beautiful is my lover,
She sees her lover as
The head of the house,
How beautiful is my lover,
How glories are her
Feet upon my lap,
How beautiful is my lover,
She is as clean as the cat,
How beautiful is my lover,
She is as important
To me as myself,
How beautiful my lover is,
She is the pride of my life,
How beautiful is my lover,
She is as wise as the aunt,
How beautiful is my lover,
She is the guardian of my love,
How beautiful is my lover,
She has honour and respect like Isis,
How beautiful is Kabutuwaa,
She is all that I can boast of,
How beautiful and
Sweet is Obaahemaa,
She is the only lady
I was born to love,
For she is my
Koforidua flowers indeed.
© PRINCE NANA ANIN-AGYEI
Email: [email protected]
Apr 8, 2013
Apr 8, 2013 at 6:36 AM UTC
I was invited over with my best friend Ken
To play some pool , do downers , and drink some gin
Susan and Lea were live-in Lesbians
All of us real good friends
from a long time ago ,
you know , from a way back when
We had a blast playing pool
I was hot hot that night
I was wiping up the table
Made every shot in sight
By one a.m. my head began to spin
I lay down upon the couch
Then said goodbye to Ken
Then all turned quite except
for the scampering of mice
Then something else I felt as
Lea stark naked was sliding in
She started stripping off my clothes
Soon all was skin to skin
She licked and ******
scratched and pinned
She ravaged me like a beast
I could not satisfy her whims
No not in the least of them
She made me toast
Jellied up my behind
Buttered up my navel
I thought I had died
or surely lost my mind
After hours of lustful bliss
We fell asleep until when
she woke me up and said
"My car , can you fix it again ?"
Feb 1, 2015
Feb 1, 2015 at 12:24 PM UTC
A veil, placed upon your eyes, somewhere behind them, a deep hidden mystery, lies just beyond those lights. A gentle look, glassy eyed, this night, this night is flying by. Sweat, liquor, regret; this place reeks of years and years of bitter tries. The lies you tell, masked with red. A shade of black, changes to dread. Deep inside your heart, you always carry it within.
Laughter, pain, I can see it on everyone's faces. Beautiful, everybody in here, glistening, glowing, covering up what's really surfacing. Just let it out, until your ankles bleed. You can feel the music, running through your veins. Euphoria, it kicks in. She's hiding, over there in that corner, waiting to let you in. All these cold dead hearts, none of which beat the same. But we're all sitting here, standing here, coincidentally all on the same page. We came here looking, searching for something to fit, to fill that empty place called emptiness. We hope and hope, heels clicking on the cobblestone. Laughter, music, it fills the air. But there's something, something missing here. There auras, there energy, bleeding colors, wash away onto pavement. And we don't know why, we don't know why we're all still here, dancing, laughing, waiting to disappear...blend in with the strobes, the flashes, and grins.
He's waiting right over there, waiting to let you in. Her eyes covered, hidden, and you can't see the want, the look, the pain she's in. Fifty shades of him, of her, of I. When will this end? Dawn's just around the corner, and no one's left but him. Sitting, wondering, thinking, he can still win. In one mere movement, you'd uncover her whims. Everything, everything she wants to bury, resurfaces again. Her eyes; they leak with hurt, with lust, with want, but you can't see it. Remove them, just take them off and you will see. Everything you ever wanted, is hiding right here, deep inside of me. Off to the left, under the breast, is where you'll find me. You've been holding the key all night, won't you just unlock me? Sunglasses, it's no wonder there so expensive, but these, these were free.
© 2013 Christina Jackson
Jan 26, 2013
Jan 26, 2013 at 3:59 PM UTC
Does evil exist?
Well, does it, or not?
I demand an answer
And if it does, hold that thought
Because if wrong does exist
We must face the reality
That calling something wrong means
There's a right way things ought to be
But if wrong does not truly
Exist in bright colors
Well, what, then is justice
But a meaningless construct?
If the **** of a child
In all histories and cultures
Can be called pure evil
Even by society's worst prisoners
If the ****** of innocents
Is forever and always
An evil in society
That can't be tolerated
If imprisonment of a woman
Like chattel for sale
Being held as a *** slave
In her own private hell
Or murdering Jews
Like Hitler's evil plan
Or starving millions unjustly
In Stalin's Ukraine
Or killing the masses
For political expedience
Culling babies in China
Or locking up dissidents
If beheading of heretics
Is inherently wrong
Or even violating your privacy
Or invading your home
If these are universally bad
And there's meaning in words
Then there's universal good
That our souls are drawn toward
Something more than just philosophy
Because that lacks authority
And if good is defined by the majority
Then what about the minority?
Tyrants run roughshod
When rights come and go
At the whims of the powerful
Because what they say goes
No, evil is something
More than laws, or from cultures
Or philosophical sophistry
From ivory towers
To try to stop badness
Is really to defend
That there's a god of pure goodness
Who wants us like him
We can discuss who that god is
And what is his substance
But the least we can do
Is acknowledge his existence
You can say that religion
Starts evil wars and such
And you might just be right
But you've just proved too much
Because if there is no god
Whose nature defines goodness
Who are you to call war bad
Or **** evil, or hate, darkness?
Who are you to sit in judgment
Of the religious who you think hate you?
If there is no moral standard
That makes hate wrong, and judging too?
If morality is nothing more
Than just a social contract
Then it's just he said/she said
And there's no moral compass
You see, your compass is as good as mine
And that may be fine, generally
Until the ****** asserts his own
Warped idea of morality
What makes his wrong
And yours universally right?
That's a tough question
That keeps philosophers up at night
Because indeed, if there is no god
There's no guilt to assuage
For the wrongs that man does
Because there is no such gauge
It's like measuring empty
Without knowing what full is
Or like trying to describe love
Without knowing who God is
Jun 24, 2014
Jun 24, 2014 at 6:59 PM UTC
(War Time)
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum-trees in tremulous white;
Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone.
4.1k