Best Abrogate Poems
8
If a wasted life is now the journey
With a path perilous and wide.
The prevailing observation be...
One should have a guide.
With a soul of sound and fury
And your misanthropy clearly known.
Who am I to judge you harshly
As you venture forth alone.
However...
Should the winds of chaos fester
And you be trumbled here about.
Abrogate your fear and join me here...
We'll both walk the safer route.
The End
9
Life made of me a mockery
With an intention to deceive
With no air of accountability
For the bitterness so received.
I would embrace a different path
To forsake some cosmic rule.
But Life now grips my fading star...
So I must play the fool.
The End
10
There is an air of permissiveness
As roguery doth wither winter's sting.
Prudery evaporates with the melting snow
In the path of an avenging spring.
Tis mischief that pervades the youth
With Nature's essence on display.
And things best done by the ebb of night...
Are now done in the light of day.
As Lads and Lasses tumble to and fro,
Making bold their fleshly passion.
There is little thought to autumn's moon
With Nature's bounty soon the fashion.
The End
*Follow my cartoon at Webtoon Bob's Your Uncle.
Surrounded and distracted to a fault
the mayhem of your love strenuates me
I abrogate my feelings towards you not
to wound you only wherefore I may breathe.
Petulant indignation on your brow
is lovelier than that tiresome doting kiss
And now I venture towards things unallowed;
previous to this day I, you would miss,
so dreadfully it seemed a very sin
that I should with my friends enjoy a night.
You doubtless lay awake and cry within-
this image from my mind I cannot fight
I drink until I blackout at your door
requiring the verve of your love's ardor.
He stared at the pictures,
faces of the love searchers,
twenty first century wanted posters,
scanning their rewards,
nothing pecuniary ,
preliminary,
maybe,
move on.
“Shall I advertise myself,” he thought,
no one appears sold or bought,
given to the mass,
on a screen of glass,
the physical hidden,
abrogate madness in description,
we are all still strangers,
with keyboards,
watching screens.
Laptop lap dance dreaming,
muscles screaming,
from the primal theatre,
soul said rise,
clearing eyes,
bleary plasma vision clearing,
fresh air endearing,
left behind the digital desert,
went out to speak,
parched vocal chords starved,
thirsting for voice.
No dust on the keyboard,
he moved away in dead skin’s storm,
hunched and wild,
hair hung lank and ragged,
bedraggled wardrobe on blood and bone’s frame,
almost lame he walks,
to the shower stalks,
water staving off the slaughter,
the hot water,
a dream of cascading falls,
at his feet the last days drowned,
washed to the sewer,
where screen days live,
blending easily;
with battered shopping trolleys & ****.
He dressed slowly,
went to his front door,
where the mirror smiled,
I remember you,
you once passed by often,
don’t be a stranger,
I’d rather see you leaving,
twisted contradictions of a mirror’s perspective,
not because you’re ugly,
because you’re beautiful,
and you shouldn’t be here with only me,
he laughed and said goodbye,
fresh air and light,
a missing intoxication,
he drank deeply;
walking to bid the strangers hello...
©David Nickle Read2015
All Rights Reserved By The Author
Faraway in an unknown
Unknown distant land
Land she sleeps
And wake all alone
All alone she lives
Lives and waits
Waits for me to come
Waits for me to come
Come take her to be
mine.
Every morning
In that faraway
Distant and unknown
land
She sings and sweeps
Like the African Woman
she is!
...Inside her
Is my child
Yet unborn...
It is to you
My unborn child
That this address is to...
...My child
Whenever, Wherever
and Whichever
Way you choose to come
Into this world
May you meet this as a
gift
From me to you!!!
...I am your father
Pride you are to me
See you not I may
And see you I may
But let it ring down in
you
That a pride to me
You are...
...This world you are
Coming into
Is a ugly beautiful place
A hopefully hopeless city
A beautiful city
With ugly villages
Which houses men
Of different varied
intents
And women
Whose animalistic
innerlings
Are covered with
glowing skins
And ready made
garments!!!
...I had done my part
My part to bring you
hither
And leave for you
A lot of deeds
Both good and not too
good
Also bad and not too
bad.
I had done my part
To bring you hither
In the best vessel
around!
And grow will you
In this truly wicked
world
To be nice and
righteous
Till you strive and
strive
To make it
Better than you met it...
Just like I
Your father...
...You know me not
My unborn child
But my news you hear
From that which is your
carrier
Of the too many bads
That I did
And of too few goods
That by me are done.
Struggle! Struggle!!
My dear Unborn Child
To better my deeds
And better your lots
For the betterment of
the world!...
...Though it be cruel to
you
Fight to abrogate
cruelity
Though it be ugly to you
Struggle to promote
beauty
Though it be a hell for
you
Endeavour to create a
heaven in it.
...For the world
Is always not what
It seem to be
And in it
Nothing remains as it is
For so long a time
Like Mariama Ba's
Long Letter!...
...So my dear child
Learn from my story
Avoid my pitfalls
Use my strengths
Understand my
weaknesses
And drink from my
wisdom pot
And it shall better you...
...For...
You are
My Unborn Child...
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot your fame.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot your name.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot about the inauspicious and piteous moths that were attracted to your irresistible flame.
In a small stretch of tempo, I forgot to abrogate your lovers game.
In a small stretch of tempo, in the delay of my deliberated falseness, in my delay of barefacedness, infused by fierce streams of atrocious schemes, and baleful dreams.
In a small stretch of tempo, I was captured by you.
In a small stretch of tempo, the old had no power to cut into the new, from a small sum of time you sieged my body, permeating it, filling up spaces, touching barren places, erupting bridled desires, causing seismic waves of pleasure with; intense and faultless measure. In your arms and while my head rested against the swell of your chest, I inhale voraciously the sweet smell of your beautiful sculpted body.
At rest in an intoxicated mindset, I felt abundantly content; a perfect segment from my antecedent shameless intent.
In a small stretch of tempo, like the break of day and a timely resurgence of a nimble mind I realized that through the dull substance of flesh and encephalon, I did not adequately measure the art of your scope. With newfound hope, and like the hands of a clock swiftly pasting the minutes across its face, I put my plans back into place
Looking At The Light From The Bottom Of The Lake, copyrighted 2017
they crossed a wide savannah
and found the water’s edge
lashed wood with vine to find
that laid beyond the horizon -
that is what they wanted
they shored upon novel rock
came across new forage
and animals - and ate,
satiated, they lay -
that is what they wanted
other beings being spied
through trees quietly,
watched and studied,
til marauded and killed
then danced and chanted -
that is what they wanted
and so take time to
encircle the sphere
arrogating that found
as rightly divine right
what's there theirs claimed -
that is what they wanted
bolting to the skies
to see another view
a feather in the cap,
they discovered, they flew -
that is what they wanted
at the new apogee with
explosive new abilities
they drop in on - Dresden,
Nagasaki, Chongqing, Grozny -
that is what they wanted
yet more of kind are
kindly found to take in
wandering and hungry
to feed, teach and clothe,
that is - what they wanted
pan away to another day
to see club and machete
arcing hard and arcing far
to stain the light crimson -
that is what they wanted
then pouring plaque to her feet
"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning"...
"the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door"*
because that, is what they wanted
exaltation of the like,
condemnation to counterpoint
vindictive to vindicate
they abrogate what they hate -
that is what they want
beings are informally
birthed into their normality
to be ruled or rule by
helical curved desires maybe
no matter what is wanted
who or what cannot resist
our human desire of want,
ability to cease and desist
acts of injury, of perjury
to evolve to another being
because that, is what they want
© Goode Guy 2013-01-24
* The New Colossus by Emma Lazarus
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_New_Colossus
Regardless of the ever slow and piercing passage of more than two centuries, her sapphire eyes still remain encrusted in my memory, like precious gems on an ancient fallen crown.
Only fractures and scars remain of the come-and-go parades of fabricated love, which served only as the ground to sow the seeds of my own desolation.
Like a hand grasping thorns, is the stigma of knowing the punishment of her absence has not yet ended, and that I again, will not have in this life her guidance, her light and presence.
Images flecked with dust twirl in my mind, to the rhythm of the arrhythmia of my eternally consternated heart.
As if conspiring, time managed to abrogate all its forgiving powers and magical healing, although I admit that the constant remembering of her love, like a refreshing ever flowing brook, has always been the very best of every day in each life, briefly relieving my withered and shattered spirit.
Losing myself in the memory of the thousand details of her Venus like beauty, gives me life, flares up my senses and wafts me through the swirling smoke of hours burnt.
Clinging on passionately and frantically to the memory of the essence of her loving way, I am momentarily able to perceive this empty world, as paradise.
I miss the way her soul breathed, and how every time it gently approached mine, I´d be engulfed by the violet halo of her auric light, taking me to heaven here on earth.
I remember the glory embodied in her poised grin, as she realized how I became bewitched when she described with her mellifluous voice, details of the impossible love she felt for me.
I miss her intriguing yearning for the science of the pneuma, and the amazing knowledge she possessed about the laws that rule the merging of souls. She taught me that love conceived thus, is the only force that governs and transcends the infinite, inheriting the power to enrich life wherever it may be.
I miss her intense urge to make me a better person, despite knowing just how difficult it would be.
An unforgivable mistake from my part, left her without option, forcing her to remove me from the magnificence of her life, leaving me adrift between the jaws of the three mysteries of time, and into the hands of living death.
True love never lies
True love never dies
True love is such a bliss
True love begins with a kiss
True love is overloaded with passion
True love comes in one kind of fashion
True love will never differentiate
True love will never abrogate
True love cant be bought
True love cant be taught
If true love does come your way
Here's some things I have to say
True love never lies
True love never dies
For true love is forever true
And, my love, this poem
Is for you . . .
WINTER
Winter creeps across the landscape
unfurls a blackness – an ivory drape
across horizon’s denied a shape.
Crystal eyes devoid of sight
Entombed within a soundless night
beneath the chill of withering blight
mourned by shivering candlelight
failing flicker - last hope mislaid
Aghast under pale moon’s charade
the howl-less drone of wolves abrade
the roots of its façade decayed
resist no more the frosts of fate
Tolling bells of long set date
the hands of time can’t abrogate
nor hasten time to shorten wait
Thus destiny extends her hand
Harsh guide across a barren land
erasing all that life had planned
not a request – a last demand
Winter creeps across the landscape.
©12/5/2017
submitted to – Rhyme Time III – Poetry Contest
(Mario)
Here comes the carpenter
who wears a crimson hat
Don't mock him dear
for being a bulgy fat
He is the Super Mario
who's a bold savior
Likes to jump on enemies' head
...very odd behavior
Has only one aim
to get princess Peach
Get her before the foes come
save her from their reach
(Contra)
Now come the commandos
both clad in camouflage
Landed in Red Falcon's Area
...their territory full of mirage
Loaded with machine guns
they are here to abrogate
For they are the chief saviors
to abet mankind's fate
Cutting through the challenges
they will surely succeed
As everyone is supporting them
wishing luck in their deed
Embracing Poetry
Freedom on the lam, where the poet sings
To hearts that are imprisoned against their will,
Inspires the bereaved mind to spring to life
And uplifts hearts to bloom and burst liberated
When the pain of incarceration ceases.
“Gloria excelsis” in the world.
Frolic away, poet, and tell the world,
Encouraging bosoms to join in song,
Birthing new beginnings where weed growth ceases;
And let fresh hope generate unfalt'ring wills
Smothered with deeds abounding with liberties;
Death is certain, but poetry is life.
Martyrs forced into cages forfeit their lives
While conquerors plant flags around the world,
Stealing wealth, and curtailing liberties,
And muzzling the lips of those who would sing
Of freedom’s great joy without broken will,
With gladness boasting liberty’s song ceaselessly.
Were I to stretch the cage’s bars ‘til strength ceased
And purge authority aspersing my life
And mock their failure to immure my will,
As I sail poetic rhymes in the world
With hearts of fellow poets yearning to sing
Vociferously with new liberties.
But destiny’s path squashes liberty,
And lungs collapse when inflation ceases.
If evil is not rebuffed, who will sing the babe
To sleep with dreams of a future life obtained
Through sacrifices for Erato’s world,
Inheriting bold character and will?
Still, they rehearse scripts to truncate my will
With mulct and abrogate my liberty,
But not you, dear poet. Nix not of this world,
Whose toes skip over bloomed fields while mine cease
To dance in delight to the verse of life—
Ill speak they your name, forbidding me to sing.
Ere my will dims, indulge me with a song
Describing life’s passion for liberty;
Let my heartbeat cease in joy from the world.
***
Notes:
Gloria excelsis (Latin): Glory in the highest.
Erato: muse (Greek mythology) of lyric and poetry.
Urania: muse (Greek mythology) of music, song, and dance.
In youth's frantic clutches
Addicted to vapid touches
Love children spawned in shaded hutches
Existing on euphoric highs, painless crutches
In middle age, lust morphed into longing
Spent body in static sphere now belonging
Neglected prodigy seeking shelter in availing arms
Licentious, pretentious friends fled in swarms
Sins of youth girdle my deserted gates
Promiscuous flings my esteem deflates
Rebellious children their fealty abrogate
Venal lovers rue my chaster estate
In deep morass, my withered soul equivocates
Bridging divide of self pity, butressing hope inflates
Then residual pain with due penance heart conflates
Seeking self forgiveness; from others proffering rebates
Healing balm of inner resolve soothes empty soul
To wayward children unconditional love tendered not in
part but whole
To fair weather friends only distant compassion will dole
Forthrightly, to bring uplifting, sharing friends into my
foal
.
Rain did abate
Abrogate drought
Rain dates flower
Rain Lily blooms
It's costume grand
Resumes flirting
Contest: Than-Bauk
Sponsor: Dr. Ram Mehta
Thanks for the challenge..
“Query”
from a word miner non-trumpeting
Beatle browed quarry man.
One emailing digital commoner bemoans assiduous,
zealously yearning xing worthy values undergirding
the storied renown quintessential peaceable operation
nations marvel lately kindling justice,
institutionalizing hope, gentility, freedom, equality.
Dummkopf Donald Count Drake
Hula iz destroying cradle,
where forefathers/mothers begot
America. He shows no demonstrable diplomacy
DURST donning duplicitous damning dingbat drive.
THUS...SPAKE
ZARATHUSTRA GAVE ME THE GREEN LIGHT
I call out President Trump blitzing, donning,
and flagrantly hoisting his arrested development
proof positive he lacks the acuity,
diplomacy, and generosity to invite kosher
or Goyim mandates.
As an anonymously, devilishly,
grouchy voluntary member
(as well a deplorable basket case)
of the one man literary duh vice squad keeping
a mostly straight and true reputation for Hilary Clinton
(versus his claim of her baseless crookedness,
she evinces qualities immediately evident
asper an old gnarled hickory stick), I will
stick tommy figurative guns in an
attempt to staunch the figurative bloodletting heaped
upon admirable Democratic constituents.
Concomitant with this near impossible mission
will be my unbiased opinion, that our FAKE
commander in chief aspires to abrogate,
denominate, and generate demonstrable gimcrackery,
invidious kleptocracy, and incorporate
questionable statecraft.
Analogous to an old chestnut tree apothegm
(well rooted to create self serving,
vassal hating (viz vacillating),
retreating, and re: tweeting.
The Carnivore Within...
Meaty morsels besiege
this vegetarian advocate
yet, the atavistic Jainist within me decries,
egg hen hies his, and lamb hence
carnivorous ache that won't abate
case in point being on the horns
hoof ah dill ham ma, neither willing,
nor ready to abdicate
nagging, succumbing, and writhing,
asper Pavlov's dog salivation,
Ike hen not obliterate
every now and again curr raven
hunger for game, though aye abominate
hone beak able unethical abuse
delivered sans electric ham not prod,
nor pleased, when yours truly doe eth abrogate
his staunch conviction against
merciless maltreatment of animals
which doth exhaust and accelerate
environmental degradation, and realized
moo mints agoo, a temptation did accentuate
bull dozing tenuous die hard longing,
how quickly temptation,
recidivism, and predilection to accommodate,
and appease feeling mouth watering za eel
for ma ham mulls hamstrung taste, I did acclimate
and acquire ineradicable taste primal beastie boys
relished after the hunt squatting by flick ring fire
with other village people
tearing killed deer - if accurate,
nonetheless a grievance
(akin to heresy) as a traitor
Joe against fundamental aversion to reactivate
cow hard lee self betrayal caving against tenets
regarding aversion to the very business
of slaughter (houses), and I eve hen advocate
against gluten free NON GMO free ranging
creatures, who can experience pain
and suffering, some display affectionate
behaviour, plus without doubt agitate
without success to savor natural longevity,
perhaps becoming family pet,
whose tender loving (vittle) care will not alienate
said domesticated innocent
porpoise full chums
hoof found a caring home, articulate
ting compassion, tha hare fore,
a conscientious baldpate
or hirsute organic caretaker,
would neigh ver deer stirrup the roost
ruffle any tail feathers, only celebrate
affection, and mane lee horse around!