Best Obliges Poems


At the Point of Departure

A wall holds a bright white clock,
Five minutes tick to breach the span.
Time is relative only to breathing,
While immortality strives to live.

I rise from the depths of pain,
In fragrant mist of triumph.
The room unfolds behind me,
Where flesh obliges morbid death.

In parting, I reap one last glance,
To those that begrudge my leaving.
I bend to wipe their cheeks from tears,
As their souls churn in saddened anguish.

My spirit trembles between sorrow and joy,
Being pulled by love from earth and heaven.
Then, the time is marked upon the doctor’s chart,
Releasing me to my glorious eternal departure.

Bernita the Bolivian Cougar

LAUGH IT OFF

BERNITA THE BOLIVIAN COUGER

BERNITA SHUFFLES OVER TO THE MAKEUP COUNTER, WITH GLASSES SLIDING OFF HER NOSE AND EYES PINNED TO THE SALES GIRL LIKE A TAIL ON A DONKEY. " I'D LIKE TO RETURN THIS CHEEK POWDER MISSY, IT MAKES ME LOOK LIKE A TART ! I  GET CHASED AFTER BY YOUNG MEN AND AT MY AGE I'M LIABLE TO BREAK A HIP OR WORSE, DISLOCATE MY KNEE CAP!"

THE SOFT SPOKEN GIRL LIVES ON STRINGBEAN PATIENCE EACH TIME MRS.B. REAPPEARS TO IRK HER WITH HER OLD ANTICS. WITH A SIGH SHE CREDITS HER THE PRODUCT THEN WATCHES, AS SHE PICKS UP A QUAD CANE AND HEADS FOR THE INCONTINENCE DEPT. IN A BOLIVIAN ACCENT THAT REFUSES TO LOSE ITS PATRIOT TONGUAMALASH SHE SAYS, "I'M OFF TO FIND DEPENDS. NOT A WORD ABOUT THIS TO ANYONE MISSY. A LADY SHOULD NEVER SHOW SIGNS OF LOSING HER TINKLES OR SPILLING HER BOWELS !" (HER THIN PURSED LIPS TELL ANOTHER STORY STILL, THE SALESGIRL OBLIGES)

A WEEK PRIOR, MRS. B. RETURNED A 24 HOUR LIPSTICK. THE SALES GIRL TRIED A LITTLE HUMOR THAT DAY, "IT WILL RUB OFF AFTER A FEW KISSES MRS. B., DON'T FRET, JUST ENJOY THE LIPSTICK !" (HALAS  IT FELL ON DEAF EARS) MRS. B. WAS ALREADY HEADING FOR THE SOAP ISLE MUMBLING IN SOLIDARITY... "A LITTLE LYE, CAN FIXES EVERYTHING "

NEVER MIND TELLING HER THAT LYE SOAP WAS ONLY SOLD ON AMAZON THESE DAYS. THAT WOULD HAVE BEEN AS USELESS AS TELLING HER THAT "EVENING IN PARIS PERFUME" HAD BEEN DISCONTINUED SINCE 1969. "HAVE A WONDERFUL DAY MRS. B." SHE SAYS, AS SHE HEADS FOR THE COFFEE SHOP AND ORDERS HERSELF A WELL DESERVED, DOUBLE DOUBLE.

WRITTEN BY: VIENNA BOMBARDIERI AKA MYSTIC ROSE

The Lust Within

Alone at the bar she becomes a wolf
for someone to devour 
to stop her wild desire for his flesh.
Her loins moist and on fire 
as she sees her prey
approach her from afar.
Her boosoms harden as he walks
the skirt barely on her thigh
as she feel surges within .
Her eyes follow the prey 
like a wild cat on the plains.
Her heart beat quickens 
as her loins moisten for him.
Ohh how to devour her prey
all in one lunge upon him 
or to take alone to savor 
all his morsals in her den.
She dances one dance 
with her prey on the floor
nails dig into his flesh
as they dance in a trance.
She bids this prey to her den
which he obliges not knowing desire.


Qui

~ can I help you?

"... I'm looking for
a good fire..."

~ do you require
a crackle in one?

it dawned on
the DongKey
that a hotkee
was a tease
who pleased
a long time love ago
and she
"...loves a long time..."
but only when
time is right
you'll know

~ tugs a bow

what color of light
asked the merchant
giving his mule a stare
she wasn't quite sure
how his mullet
was to fair
near the kind
of fire that she
has to ware

his request was
... difficult
so she became
in sync to think
in the thick of it
a quick assault
on the fabric
he was in and
the assessment
returned as
determined

it had a rub
in his eyes real thin
is what she saw...

~ please do
come again
was all she could say

"... drop n' strip
my collars red!...."

she obliges ripe
and did where he lead
describing it right
yet not giving in
to his need...
~ I have much to do
I'll be back to you
in a while indeed

"...Rocinante!
it's time we leave!
the merchant is busy
with much to weave!"

his pride untied
she could see it
hair undone
with it's
color unfit
for that knight
nothing more
she could do
for in this
was a knot to be
a naughty time...
~ he'll come to see

"knygt erraunte"

she could hear
him say as he
and his donkey
made way...

"... green..."
she scribbles
for an order
of thread

one thousand one
for the embers bed...
he wants a girdle
the color of red...
and a rope to pull
his mule...
a tassel for his teir
by the time of Yule...

~ The Merchant
made a note of it here
shes ahead of the game
~ and he returns a year
© Izzy Gumbo  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Poison

A Concealed exercise concocted, 
Wuhan Lab the playground, 
secretive China obliges,
Western media consenting, 
Medical experts silenced. 
the age of censorship,  

Dictators feigning incognito, 
The diurnal and  nocturnal schemes of top players, 
A script before the scourge, 
The drama of emergencies
A death unwarranted 
alternative cure submerged,
 Pharmacopia  playing  god,     
opinions censored, 
Freedom becomes a crime

Men afraid to die,
adorned in masks as domesticated vermin, 
Socialist alarmed at Cowards 
As dictatorship  ascending in western democracy,  
Ignorance elevated as advocate for CDC 
Unending Speculation by tyranny
The weekly changing rules.
Connivers employing Fear, 
Orchestrations and the Mournful diddy 
Alpha
Beta, 
Gamma
Delta, 
and Omicron the game changer. 

Controlling the world by unproven conjectures 
First it was the Mask, 
Then social distancing, 
Sanitize, Isolation without empathy,
The numbers defiant, 
The People's servants globally consenting to experiment 
with the speed of a wing
The Lab Lords  proposed a cure,   
Greed conspired , the masses the guinea pigs, 
Unverified Vaccine,  
defrauding all of the liberty of Choice,
unprofessional medical rape,  
breaking the Laws to invoke their Laws,
Rulers Turned scientists 
Dictator found their Voices 
compelling all to dine in an experiment 
“safe and effective” the chorus of bias profiteers 
Society divided. 
“Vaxxed” VS “unvaxxed” 

All Watching TV to form opinion.
Australia copies UK, 
subjecting citizens to barbarism
America copies Australia,
senseless cohesion in place of Freedom, 
France copying America, 
Ignorant Cops abusive, 
opposing sensible resistance,

The Truckers made a mark  
though clamped down by tyrannical “emergencies” 
The unending Jabs, 
four times in Israel curing nothing,
A false sense of security,
The demand sales pitched 
Experiment over,  The  Data concealed 
To protect a Lie,
A massive Fraud,
The UK law breaker suspends  mandates,
avoiding the sword of Damocles 
And they all one by one taking turns 
accepting failures while others in denial 
ignoring the damage of trial

Premium Member The Instigator

The instigator relates, we cheer.
Deflates nay Sayers
The instigator retraced all fears
Detest all stares
The instigator dissects dialect
The instigator obliges his faith
What phase? The instigator 
Emblazed freeze gaze.
Counsels full LAWS.
Legal eagle at the cause.
The instigator  has
 FAME No game.
The instigator takes flight 
Ignites surprise
Do fly red eye
Nice GUY  GOOD GUY

GOOD BYE


Save the World From the Toxic Hands of Hypocrisy

there are calamity of swam of locusts
there all are attacked by the virus
coronavirus is attacking the inside living cell of organism

Oh! about this I'm true illiterate

poisonous airing, envenomed environment
make the procession of dead
though chemical-atomic experiment
pacifies the hypocrite imperialist

now-a-days every fierce (so called natural) disaster,
every dangerous pollution
obliges to read out these as the cursed from God!
how wondrous buffoon I am!
For whom the innocent dies
and whose name does the curse write!

I abhor myself
to float on this stupid obligation,
to float on the marrow-less praying

they say pray
I say pray for mental calmness
but need to do something best quickly
for the attacked and non-attacked all

Come; save the world from the envenomed air pollution
Come; instantaneously stop the chemical-atomic experiment
Come; save the world from the toxic hands of hypocrite imperialist



-February 06,2020 Chattogram

Fly

Onward I go
taking a step further in search for peace
liberation
freedom from deceitful misery
that obliges with the scent of insecurity and intimidating inevitability
of a world filled with so much insincerity and atrocities

Onward I march into the freedom of liberation for my soul
away from the scenes and thoughts that blur and numb me further away from serenity
I dance to be beat in rhythmic synchrony to the compelling forces of the ice-like
crystallizing waves beneath
I soar in dancing tune to the dancing echoes as heavenly avatars unknown respond in
gliding showers refreshing soaring approaching in response to reclamation of what is mine,
what I need, the essence of me, defiling defamations, constructing inhabitions
smothering my way to a world my soul awaits to see

Onward I march under showers of salvation
as I become one, reborn, to that eternity
watching as the gloomy clouds unfurl slowing into hollowed receptions in this glacious
zone sewn with inscriptions gluing green

Onward I dance, setting an index of redemption ready to fly
as I embark on the journey of the unending road
running in-between shadows opaque that dissect reminiscing with thoughts embezzling what
is mine
desperate I resuscitate transacting with the world I want to see
feeling sounds of the inevitable cooling whip-like lashes of my tainted being on this
mountain of mine

I feel kisses tingle on me in hallucinating dignity
through nature’s beautifying eyes of rescue
as it sets my sight worthy of each of its corresponding flickering flashes
setting my conscience loose as I ascend, fly
come
and
watch
        me
          free
                as
                  I
                      fade
                              growing
                                          in
                                            diminuending-crescendo
                                                                                with
                                                                                    the
                                                                                       
                                                                                       wind

Premium Member The Gardener

The Gardener 

She’s twenty-three and he’s eighty-six
He walks with a Zimmer, she watches Netflix
He has a mansion and a Maserati car
She has her diamonds and uplifting bra

They have a gardener, Chatterley like
He calls her miss, she calls him Mike
The Zimmer frame plods, slow to react
The house has a mystery, lover’s pact.

She shops online for all she desires
Mike cuts the wood, mends fences, builds fires
The Zimmer makes its way until out of sight
She fills up with chocolate, champagne and sprite

Mike is now naked stripped to the bone
The Zimmer appears a long way from home
The Gardener obliges and helps him undress
Kissing together out of sight of the press

She buys designer clothes, Armani, Dior
He is quite happy when she asks for more
The paperazzi claim, she’s dug up her gold!
Zimmer loves the gardener his story’s untold.

David Cox 17/06/20
© Dave Cox  Create an image from this poem.

The House At the End of the Street

Alone at last in the dead of night,

he reaches for her under their threadbare existence

with one clammy hand.

She dutifully obliges.

 

Alone at last in the dead of night,

the girl is sound asleep;

the tiara is still askew on her head

after the day’s rabid celebration.

 

Alone at the last at the dead of night,

the boy takes the unrelenting road

out of the town.

And towards new adventures.

 

Alone at last at the dead of night,

the dog sheds its skin

and howls at the moon.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Date: 09/10/2017

Cerebellum's Synaptic Soiree

Lifted lightly from familiarity
Sleep's gesture caresses cells
Taken to nearby bewilderment
Where stagnancy busily dwells

Liquid lambent shooting star forms fragment
Vapid vexations vanquished in fantasy's fire
Mist masked span transcends measurement
Vision's fusion surpasses language quagmire 

Imprisoned waking cognition 
held in category's secure structure 
Dispelled impediments crash cascade
preceding sleep's redeeming tenure

Ignited sizzling spiral whimsical continuum 
Themes undulate with kiss and chase thrill
Trauma's feather sinks, treasure 's stone floats
Detached components reconcile at will

Dream chariot leaps easily 
Obliges unassuming passenger
uncover unique anecdote
Intriguing as a stranger

Driven chivalrously soaring splendidly, lured enticingly
Revelling in brain' s carried captivation sole function
Travelling happens spontaneously without momentum
Contented centre offers converging clock hands junction

Revelations ripple, expanding truth
Roller coaster riding outside reality
Symbol's eventual meaningful messages
rise as a halo, impartial to gravity 

Reason's region, sensible staid evades taboo
Indetectibly dilating pineal stillness vibrates
Untouched pastures in sleep domain permit oblivious
From fences of accepted, dream's newborn liberates

Catapulted! 

Conscious corners sent as envelope ratified 
deliver obvious, wafting surreal's torment
Clumsy clambering of mind identified
hankers for hibernation's brief dormant

How To Say Goodbye

She is the one time’s eyes cannot forget even my
Nose betrays this obsession her my dreams
Sketch in caramel complexion a Rembrandt
Oil painted blood and bone my brush her
Death resurrected and every slumber obliges a
Kneel before her lips my back contorted in
A bow to worship them as my Sun Goddess 
Seventy-nine Virgin Muslim combined 
Amazing faceless Venus sunset at thirty-three
Thousand feet above your smile owns a sinister
Promise honours to steal your eyes from my 
Grasping at straw shadows lost in a pause
Between our bodies of words these prayers
Her body teaches itself to never remember the
Reception making love to her on the maw of 
Death that Gentleman Grim Reaper masks
As our bridal bed though still she doesn’t  
Know my name an insignificant appendage I
Am only husband to a Moon Goddess and 
When we pray she swallows my cosmic 
Dust our bodies earthquake to volcanic torture
Appears in rear view mirrors till a calm spell 
Is cast by Merlin himself now I beg the 
Sand man to keep me in his prison for only 
In my dreams this Aphrodite reminisces with me
As her lover in the land of eye lids spread I
Am her whoring Adonis loved only by sunshine’s
Tongue speaks of my attraction to her unholy
Is it not yes but I am weak a man taken over by the
Scent of her touch her toes haunt my imagining 
Fingertips whispering to my memories they
Only know how to say goodbye…

A Cup of Tea

stepping out into the open air 
i feel a course of light running through my veins 
the sky, the sun, the grass 
some things never change 
and i pray they never will 

underneath this tree i built 
i gather from the shade 
a sense of belonging for what it's worth 
i could never taste the touch of your lips 
or the incessant nudge of a friend's reality 
but i can just as well sit here 
and become the earth again 

it's just me now 
and that's okay 

i take a trip up the countryside 
my jacket across my shoulder 
waving to any passers-by 
it's not as lonely when everyone knows you 
i find a diner off the side of the road 
and stop in for a drink 
i sit alone in the farthest corner 
and ask the waitress for a pen 
she obliges but she wants it back 
then asks me what i'd like 

just a cup of tea 

i pull a napkin closer in 
and write what i see/feel now 
the sun reflecting off the window 
and the glare in my glasses blinding me 
it's beautiful out there 
and it makes me wonder 
how much more beautiful it might be with you 

but it's just me now 
and a cup of tea
© Val Murah  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Windward

The wind
is an agent of change
so I face it
head on
and welcome its
cold embrace
its cleansing properties
its whirling breath
that chafes my skin
and chills my core
and I ask it to change me
and it always obliges.

Free To Write

Iam gladly to introduce myself names leftwrite poetic justice for reader digest for words paragraphs and to the narrative to publish the reality meaning in which I may blige all bloggers to all deficits of a writers epiphany thoughts that lingers that smells so bad that I chitling for a bad taste that smells so wasteful that makes you gag a maggot for then it would be too much to read and digest which is to horrible to free write thesis statements but just be patient I just live in this word but solars us viture. But the attention are not focus but remaining may get boring like a preacher teaching the same sermon that may leave an permanent stain or stone wash away like sins forgiveness to all that obliges me to an creed of revenge that has no ending story that never take flight or just been delayed to take off like a readers that couldnt be judge of its covered that havent been illustrated to see and cant wait to foresee from a long shot or just say fore.. Simply yours Leftwrite....

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