Best Indulgences Poems
I start my day with bubbles on my skin
and water nearly hot when I jump in!
Replying to friends' emails makes me glow.
A quickie breakfast; off to work I go!
My work is pretty nice; I teach each day.
I can't imagine any other way
to earn my keep; my job is kind of fun.
I'm sure it's not like that for everyone.
I make a big production of my lunch
by heating soup or popcorn I can munch
while reading poems online here at the school.
By 5 or 6, I'm home. My nights are cool. . .
I fix a lovely dinner for my honey.
My sweet indulgences don't cost much money.
We chat and watch TV. I feel extremely
content with things I simply do routinely!
Written 2/3/15
Prince of this world,
you've meddled in the affairs of mankind
since the beginning
From the time of the Egyptian pharaohs,
whose gigantic pyramidal tombs
had been built primarily by slave labor
A living testament to man's ingenuity and cruelty
Then you were behind the Assyrian reign,
carnage was the calling card hallmark
these fierce kings signed whenever they came
But the Babylonian kingdom you really liked a lot,
ancient free market traders and slavers
Their god was commerce;
they bought and sold any and everything,
they trafficked in any and every whatnot
Then came those warring factions of Persians and Medes,
pure lovers of aristocratic indulgences of greed
They would fight you to the death,
until the Greeks came along
and became the gold standard, the best
They loved to preach democracy,
they loved to practice idolatry
For every god you said you had,
those Greeks said they had three
The Greeks fell to the next kingdom,
not so much by war, more through debauchery
But the prince of this world
came out of the shadows,
and was moved to want to rule when the Romans came
They had them lying cats named Caesar,
and crucifixion was their favorite capital punishment game
The Romans learned a lot from their fellow Greeks;
give the conquered their councils,
give them a voice with a vote
Then let them exercise it wickedly,
declaring the innocent Jesus Christ guilty
Oh, the prince of this world
was as ecstatic as a mad despot can be
The Romans were the best kind of servants ---
they were cruel, they were hard
They killed you dead with no regard
But alas, even their mighty kingdom came to an end
Since then, all of his wicked servants
and their feudal kingdoms have served him well
But alas, it was the Roman kingdom
he brooded over the most when it came to an end
And it's been a long time, since the prince of this world
had a Caesar he could call friend
As beguiling costumes dazzle eyes
flashing glitter heightens indulgences.
Jasmine kisses lightheadedly make
nerves of passion quiver.
Rhinestone stars twinkle
usurping Venus
with xanthic
yellow zircons.
(ABC Poem)
Monet
Brush strokes of elegant refinement
within eloquent sighs of awed inspiration
fluid scenery grasping Nirvana's refulgence
emotions painted vividly seasoned
music ringing from canvas's power
clinging to old master's sway
essence dipped of cultured omnipotence,
technique as enticed strumming violin strings
oyster'd pearls secrets of holy waters
in timely charms surrendered relevance
reevaluating a lost art's composition,
indistinguishable as snowflakes
in swirling paths of poignant distinction
relentless reflections ravish the eye
simply understated in complex polish
artfully dressed in sweet indulgences
delectation for the heart's yielding,
anointed of fire as elusive sands of time
like poetry misting off a gossamer pond
whilst wildflowers bloom amidst flair's allure
illusions that permeate spirit's indulgences
perception's pondered in provoked persuasions
amidst spells of splendiferous pièce de résistance,
concepts of genius's hand worked achievements
imploring deliverance of pondered breaths
exhaling hued aspiration's destined treasures
perfected jewels in classic showpieces' distinction
Monet's artistic pulchritude engraved for posterity
"As soon as the coin in the coffer rings; the soul in purgatory will spring"~Friar Tetzel~Salesman for the Pope 1517
He knew indulgences and such were corrupt
the church just out to make an unholy buck
he loved his poor parishioners a bunch
he had to do something this unknown monk,
Not being able to take anymore
he nailed his 95 theses to the Wittenburg church door
arrested he stood firmly for all his beliefs
his friends eventually stealing him in the night like thieves,
While in hiding he translated the Latin Bible into German
that way his people could read and then learn from
instead of just digesting what all the priests had to say
they read and interperted for themselves without delay,
Of course religious tension and fighting ensued
but because of Luther his people were not as confused
the German scriptures giving them new light
instead of the churches teachings and their indulgent lies,
Martyrs before and after Luther lending him a helping hand
all murdered because they took a "heretical" brave stand
many burned at the stake the pope declaring they were damned
while Protestantism swept like wildfire throughout the German land.
10-31-17
Hauntingly explicit, plighted
in yesterday's cloaked mystery,
wafting as whispers through
wistfully grayed memories on dimly
recalled moonlit indulgences,
winding imprecise hazy endings
beyond darkly covert horizons
love isn't blind, it's persistently unsighted
by distantly echoed adrift endings
Written: May 05, 2024, For Jaymee Thomas Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Incessant ticking of timepieces,
reverberating clatter of a mallet in motion,
the whole thing testifies to an illusion.
Time,
only a delusion
Its sole goal is to decay and degrade,
the surplus is as worthless as our frail cells
Inward metamorphosis is what truly entices.
There will be a sunrise
once you cease to exist,
but fodder for maggots.
Yet,
from their perspective,
your remains,
provide a sustenance for survival,
their growth,
and their eventual ascension
perspective,
an invaluable commodity,
yet,
stay ignorant of two sides of a coin.
tales spun from our ignorance abyss.
Is love a reality or a falsehood in society?
a tether to maintain their focus,
how can they hinder their whims?
what else might motivate them to squander
indulgences such as candies or blooms?
leverage of greenery,
similar to the cost of water,
twisted nature repulses my senses.
Being a societal outcast,
do I not deserve an ample resolution?
at the pinnacle of my tale,
will I be restrained with shackles?
due to repugnant acts of cruelty,
your detested species has wrought
on my turbulent figure?
Ignite your wake pyre,
should you require a tan?
if I had all the money that I ever wanted,
I suppose that I could travel the world;
live in a better home, buy better clothes, if money was no object,
but you see money cannot help me,
each day my health is more delicate, slipping further away;
and all the money in the universe will not change a thing,
this is my struggle and my daily reality . . .
the things I give myself are simple,
relaxing music to soothe this weary soul;
peace, tranquility and love to ease my pain,
and I ask the Lord for acceptance . . .
in meditation I try to fathom the why,
of course, with money I could go to a fancy retreat;
but a corner in my bedroom is set aside for meditation and relaxing,
and it is there I have placed peaceful things that cost very little . . . .
perhaps with money I could get better drugs,
but no drug is going to change this girl's destiny;
this I know deep in my heart and soul,
I have for a long, long time.
I think a lot about my past and life so far,
the paths I took or did not take, the things I said or did not;
could money have changed my journey in any way . . .
a warm bath, a cozy bed, a sweet purring cat, paper and pen so I can write,
my laptop within reach, a walk in nature listening to the birds;
a loved one to hold my hand . . . .
these are my indulgences and they may not seem like much to you,
but I feel like the wealthiest person in this world;
for money cannot buy happiness nor can it buy life,
all I need is the indulgence of tranquility;
and that comes from within . . .
____________________________
January 28, 2015 (Edit)
Poetry/Free Verse/and that comes from within
Copyright Protected, ID 15-1108-615-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Submitted to the 2019 Marathon, Mile 13
sponsor, Mark Toney
Second Place
In the pool of giving, man will throw his pennies
Displying for those who record such entries'
He regrets that in this land of plenty;
we must sacrifice the few for the good of many.
The watcher knows of mans intrusions;
And his propensity for God like absolutions.
He has seen the indulgences of mans conclusions;
That he stealthily hides behind illusions.
In the name of freedom come the plans;
For the good of all of man.
But it's catch as catch some can;
And forget where we began.
Perpetually in awe, to his mind the watcher draws;
As if seeing in a crystal ball, he knows that man could surely fall.
In illuminated halls, he records the injustice of it all;
It is then he does recall, still on hands and knees man crawels
Once in a blue moon, in the circuit of the cryptic sky appears the transcendental fusion,
when the acquiescence of the sky emerges to display two heavenly bodies most exotic phases of union.
On those, mesmerizing venerated nights, the new moon and the wolf moon in juxtaposition,
supercede the perceived notion of eclipses; when the earth's shadow devours the pearly moon, its unparalleled companion!
Contrary to the credence, they recline and mingle, into one in secret paranormal amalgamation!
At that spectacular moment, the blood of the luna oozes, turns scarlet,
and the venerated Full Moon turns into Blood Moon in unison:
when the earth's umbra covers the moon in its arms, passionately to hide pains of her bunion!
They have clandestine agreement, beyond the mortal comprehension to fathom their cabalistic union!
Although, once in a blue moon, even the cynical corporals,
turn fortunate to witness the epochal communion!
Deluded and hypnotised, they come out with their finite, shallow persuasions!
Even waning, the luna in all her immaculate purity, maneuvers the blue planet, her matchless companion
in various alluring phases, in exuberant magnificent manifestations!
Those rarest phases in rotation connotes their cryptic indulgences in culmination!
The momentum of the earth-moon collision forms curious rarefied condensation,
causes in its beloved's bosom, the tidal ridges, the ebb and flow, a unique phenomenon!
When the luna grows from New Moon to Waxing Crescent, whispering the earth to cast its beams for illumination
in diverse evolving phases from Crescent, First Quarter Waxing Gibbous, Full Moon, Waning Gibbous, Last Quarter, Waning Crescent to the New Moon,
both the celestial- bodies embrace each other
in variant robes of orientations!
Their hide and seek, merging enigma, provokes the lunatics for musing bardic explorations;
as once in a blue moon merges the peerless pens to extol,
the unfathomed metamorphosis of earth-luna's metaphysical communion!
All Rights Reserved © Silpika Kalita
The ultimate compassionate
sensation resonates beyond
daily circumstances, travails
It is calming serenity
tapered by lustful indulgences
tempting peacefulness
You wonder how such blessings
could have been bestowed
upon a common utilitarian
personality rife with imperfections.
It's mind boggling
how forces intermingle
creating spheres of happiness.
It dangles illusions
of utopian perfection
transforming everyday misanthropes
into circumstantial bliss
that encapsulates illustrious
transcendental thoughts.
Mind altering realities
bestowed upon simplicities
of thoughtless ramifications
turning lackluster days
into something magical.
Chocolate Indulgences (20150129)
If I really had no choice but to divulge,
In mountains of chocolate I would indulge.
I'm not just taking about Snickers,
Reese's peanut butter cups, Butterfingers,
Or other grocery store sweeties.
I'm talking about the expensive stuff, most from oversea:
Fruit and nut bars from British Cadbury,
Milk molasses chips from local Mrs. See's,
Fudge Easter Eggs from domestic Helen Grace,
Belgian praline Sea Shells from Leonidas,
Belgian Cote D'Or bouche pralines,
And from Germany's Ritter Sport--EVERYTHING!
Wallowing in glorious chocolate, I'd be so pathetic,
If not for the fact, that I'm a diabetic.
A broken mirror
A gustily reflection of misfortunes
I don’t recognise myself anymore
An honest look at my dishonesty
Yes, I’m a liar
The image distorted with each retreating step of shame
I take, and I move ten steps backwards in life
The falling pieces like sharp knifes
Pierce the ground with screaming cries
No!!!
Did I just dig my own grave?
The earth bleeds (from me)
Soaking the ground with broken promises
I try to flee the scene
Hoping never to be seen
To hide from my guilty conscience
Hoping not to be convicted for seven years
By poetic justice
And the crush of his firm finger
He had pointed straight at me
The lie exposed
Blood on my hands,
My fist broke the mirror
My lack of character,
A life of no restraint
Of anger and hate
My over indulgences and cutting corners
All brought to bare
The broken mirror echoes my scattered, dying soul
It intrigues me like a thousand pieces of a puzzle,
Challenging me to put my life back together
You’re such a liar, I dare you!
If I’m honest, I know only I can,
But my inner voice is unrelenting
No you won’t you liar!
I put my neck on the block
A voluntary fratricide
To be rid of this inner, rotten core
A mind like Pandora’s box
They say garbage in garbage grows!
The contents need to be forgotten
The combination unknown
Self-destruction mode on do-not-unlock
I accept I can never run away from my own thoughts
This outer shell content with my decision
For seven years it exhausted me
It haunted me,
Assimilated anew in the fields of second chances
Reassembled from pieces of glass and blood
I return to me a complete reflection
It is better to have loved
and lost
than to never have loved at all - - - - -
You then get to taste
the full spectrum of emotions
that define us
as human beings.
The highs of being in love
to depths of breakup
Joys of companionship to
reflections of loneliness
Exhilarations of a relationship
envelope mildest hours,
trespass upon sanctities
of heartiest seclusions
dripping by lackluster
innuendos perplexed within
tripping feelings surpassed
by joys of indulgences
tempered with illuminations
of times past.
Threading Hunger’s Needle
by Odin Roark
Acumen's voice smolders quietly
When deafened ears respond only
To discords of witlessness.
Perception's heat invites comfort,
Its embers remaining alive,
Its wake of constant resolve
Lifts vigils of swirling persuasion,
Choking away illiteracy,
Ignoring cross or sickle waved ominously.
Ever present, creation’s insight
Remaining airborne in a void for those
With causeless breath being held,
Affecting not its surroundings,
Forever stale within ether locked,
Where roiling chasms of fear
Exude odiferous spoilage,
Rotting,
Polluting,
Repelling.
Such misery holds steady,
Amidst the multitudes’ repeated indulgences of flesh,
Where masses’ quintessential reptilian skin
long overdue for shedding
remain stagnant.
But cling it will,
This resistance to reflection and growth,
Feeling falsely safe in unknowing
The rewards of philological pondering,
Literature’s sign and verbal,
Touch and smell,
Eye and ear,
An all-sensitive motion
Making ready transference from literal
To one’s personal ethereal possession.
For some…
A chosen distance remains preferred.
A huddled observation from
Deep in the abyss of ignorance,
Convinced personal importance is to perish alone
Amidst a cacophony of unresolved noise.
Always close by, however…
Wisdom’s whisper continues to nurture hunger’s tenacity,
Knowing a needle unthreaded is of little use.