Best Predisposed Poems
Only life in our mortal realm
entrenches self-doubt’s stand.
People and events cripple us
with critical mirrors showing us
visuals of our ineptness.
All who are predisposed to clutching their negative blows
know doubts occurrences of fearful disturbance
thoroughly unscrambles one’s confidence channel
Image deceit drips as falsely scented,
mixed with drops of fictive doubt,
to kidnap our splendid potential.
On and off, our truth wrestles doubt’s absolutes.
Since youth, most have fought that gloomy devil.
Wet Dreams
WITH HER DOWN CAST EYES, MY SWEET ANGEL LISTENS TO MY PRAYERS
SHE LOOKS PREDISPOSED TO TRANQUILIZE ALL MY CARES
AS I FALL TO SLEEP OVER MY MIND SWEET FASCINATION REIGNS
TO MAKE ME THINK SWEET PARADISE I HAD GAINED
SHE ENTERS MY DREAMS LIKE A THIEF IN THE NIGHT
I BASK IN HER LOVE WITH EXQUISTE DELIGHT
HER EYES ARE THE STARS, LIKE SPARKLING DIAMONDS IN THE NIGHT
HER SOFT KISSES ARE TENDER, AND DRAIN ME OF ALL MY MIGHT
SHE HAS STOLEN MY SOUL, HER LOVE BURNS LIKE FIRE
INFLAMED IS MY HEART, MY PASSION FILLED DESIRE
I EMBRACE HER BEAUTEOUS SPIRIT; A THOUSAND TIMES I AM BLESSED
HER FAIR STATUESQUE BODY I CARINGLY CARESS
MY ANGEL A TOP OF ME - I CANNOT DENY HER
AS SHE TAKES ME TO HEAVEN- WE SOAR FOREVER HIGHER
WE FEEL THE THUNDER- AS OUR BODIES PEAK
A FEELING SO WANTED, - A NEEDED RELEASE
AN EXPLOSION OF EMOTION,
AND THEN SATISFYING PEACE.
I AWAKE THE NEXT MORN - MY SHEETS SOAKING WET
I REMEMBER MY DREAM,- HOW COULD I EVER FORGET
I PANICK WHEN I SEE - SOME UNMENTIONABLE STAINS
A PRACTICE I KNOW MY PARENTS WOULD PREFER I REFRAIN.
FOR ASSUREDLY I TELL YOU, REMEMBERING THIS YOUNG BOYS BLISS
THAT HUNGRYLY I WAIT FOR MY NEXT ANGEL’S KISS.
Destroy thine own brother in abject apathy
taking up arms 'midst conquering expectancy,
invoking howls of contemptible thunder
neath skies' transparency beyond trepidation,
battles' plundering captures naught of stability
nor intervention from otherworldly gods
predisposed towards earthly universal unity,
persecuting soil's divinity neath aggregate exploits
incalculable hunger upon grounds' domination,
tears were purged in the name of unholy ascendancy
deliver us from susceptible evil men chanting war cries,
congregated in humanity's blood spoils on fire
hailing flared atomic detonations' nuclear nightmare
Trumped midst castle's undeniably delusional rhetoric
Ultimately ascertained, entities' faith shall resoundingly be diminished
casting down divine dispensation bestowed pon the wrath of mankind
R O B E R T F R O S T
So that I may “Choose Something Like a Star” to have and hold
My beloved poet has reached into his pocket and pulled out his soul
To share as he speaks to all in loving life be told
REVELATION.... Indeed dear poet you have spoken to engage my truth to the
end
OCTOBER....For you have taught of mornings mild and days that are slow to
spend
BOND AND FREE....That dauntless words knowingly are taken from the sacred
wellspring
EQUAL SACRIFICE....No matter the heart there is courage to endure and hope
to bring
RANGE FINDER....Because the order of nature so predisposed is a truthful cure
TO THE THAWING WIND....To turn the poet out the door to never be impure
FLOWER GATHERING....Words are yours to be the measure just listen with
your heart
RELUCTANCE....To yield with a grace and bow to accept change through your
art
OLD MAN'S WINTER NIGHT....We sometimes seem so late arising to the
broken moon to choose
STOPPING BY THE WOODS....But knowing I have promises to keep in my
journey
THE ROAD LESS TAKEN....I took the path less traveled by for there you have
taken me
“And that has made all the difference in my muse”
August 26, 2019
My Upcoming Birthday (9-03) Celebrity
Sponsored by: William Kekaula
From neglect comes deviation, electrifying radiation, like a leaf in the shadow,
Drying stanza so bore-some, a bit much candidly said,
In the Sun thinly it is spread,
As it comes to - an End.
Unpropitious almost as a son left to die in a wooden casket,
Beating the chest, screaming the pain dumped in the basket
This fight that is looming, so void and gore,
Drained of meaning, young and old, shaken, - I’ve been told.
Hey, loner-donor go seek Freud and subscribe to the membership of bold.
What name, say you?
Look up, zap the depth and any chance,
Given but not forgiven, just sanitised slam dance,
Not tipping the balance,
So settled, decisive and predisposed,
Here comes the pain rolling down the mountains at Pieve di Cadore
You do not know whether to ignore or adore.
I am a natural riparian who likes to fasten poplars on the banks of my heart
My eyesight at breast height gets pulled by gravity – down!
Sipping on a glass of Vitis Viifera while avoiding an overdose
In the eyes of a true ochre sensible enough
To touch the ground or poke her.
Grab the ivory rod that is a relic of lies,
Crafted for the bride who held it dearly
In the arc it traveled back and forth,
North to south, back to north.
Everything crumbled, thorn to pieces,
Gunning down feeling after feeling,
The fight is looming, but I am not kneeling.
I met a little man up on The Green
On New Year’s Eve, and he was two foot two
With quite the reddest nose I’ve ever seen
And eyes as bright as summer skies are blue
‘What brings you here?’ I said. He laughed and lit
A pipe, inhaled a lot and blew a cloud
Of smoke that drifted up where pigeons sit
Up high between the Christmas Lights. ‘I’m proud
To say that I’m a Moonraker’ he said
‘And every New Year’s Eve I come and chat
To ducks, and to the drunks, and to the dead
And listen to the bells. Look, there’s a bat!’
I looked and so there was. ‘You’re very small’
I said. ‘Aye, so I am’ he said, ‘but wise
And being small means not so far to fall’
He winked at me. A twinkle in his eyes
Danced like a firefly. ‘And very old’
I said. ‘Aye, that as well’ he said, ‘but not
So old and bitter that my heart is cold’
He offered me his hip flask. ‘Have a tot’
‘I don’t’ I said, ‘but thank you.’ ‘Look, a cheese!’
He pointed. ‘In the water!’ ‘Isn’t that
The moon?’ I said. He laughed. A little breeze
Danced light across the Crammer and his hat
Fell off. He didn’t care. We watched it sink
Together as he sank another dram
Of moonshine. ‘Sure you didn’t want a drink?’
‘As eggs is eggs’ I said, ‘although I am
A little curious.’ ‘You wonder why
I’m here?’ ‘I do.’ ‘One question’s all you get’
‘One question?’ ‘Yes. Like why do people die
Why birds at all, or why is water wet?’
I asked him about twenty twenty one
He thought a moment. ‘Doesn’t do to be
Too curious’ he said. ‘Beneath the sun
Is nothing new. You’ll have to wait and see’
‘That’s it?’ ‘It is’ he chuckled. Midnight struck
St. James’s bells, and ‘Look!’ and then a swan
Did swim across the moon and then, ‘Good luck!’
He cried, and in a puff of smoke, was gone
I sat there for a bit. A little weird
But then it is Devizes. Nothing new
He came along, and then he disappeared
As all the years are predisposed to do
Then I went home to bed. And when I woke
The sun was up, I made a cup of tea
And wrote down every word that he had spoke
‘Is nothing new. You’ll have to wait and see...’
© Gail Foster 30th December 2020
Gray bleached the color from the day
all that was bright has gone away:
my mood darkens, fills with dismay
sullen and gray, sullen and gray.
Sounds muffled by walls within walls,
the rain falls and no bird songs call:
muted, in drawn, under a pall
a light rain falls, a light rain falls.
Mimicking the rain my eyes tear.
I shut all the lights, disappear.
Beneath the cover it's unclear
what do I fear, what do I fear.
Light brings clarity, all's exposed
perhaps to gray I'm predisposed?
A soft sunlight pinks the red rose
light and dark pose, light and dark pose.
I lie prone beneath the October sky
Embraced by the night, and cool damp grass
The heavens above, loom dark and wide
I ponder to make sense of my finite self
My own small world, filled with a million demands
How foolish they seem in the scheme of all this
What lies there beyond...in this vast universe
To blame anyone else for the earth and it's pain
I look to myself, and see there is no gain
One shooting star...then another comes close
Like fireworks...the sky is a canvas, predisposed
Burning a hole in the blackness of space
Reminders to me that this earth is a gift
A gift to each one, a gift for each day
Another star falls, in a firestorm so bright
Leaving an imprint within my insight
Of the endless wonders we usually ignore
I will look to the sky where my answers now lie
The heavenly comfort that is standing by
Oh, the mystery that lies in the Milky Way
And the planets we see, and the ones that we can't
Again all reminders that we aren't mere ants
The white ice that blazes all over the sky
Leaves a trail that has purpose, ...............and so do I
Faces of Terrifying Demons
Some look into the Demon dark
And are engulfed
Crushed and torn apart
These poor souls
Descend to the narcotic escapes
Or turn to face the world
In return
With violence, anger and hate
Or fall at last
In the suicidal ends of life
Some prefer never to look
At all
Into the blank black stare
Of their mirror
They remain willingly
Oblivious to the monsters
Of the past
They reflect dumb
Silent hearts
Shrouded in casual attachments
Some know the faces
Of the ugly experience
And embrace it
Suckered into the apparent meaning
Of living on the edge
Of self torture
Predisposed they become
To feeding the evil
Once done to them
Lost souls they become
And some
Walk with trembling fear
Walk right into the deeper
Black scared shadow
They search the creepy threat
Of their night
Though sickened by the sight
In the memories
Of what had been done
With faltering and unsure steps
They shiver
Barraged by a choking terror
Though cowering still
They search
Until they find the lonely battered child
And take its poor frail hand
And lead it back out
Into the light
Some have with such compassion
And with such unwavering fortitude
Found existent despite their weakness
They emerge
The braver and more courageous
With such a gentle strength
That holds them steady
As they step from the foul and pitch
Made stronger
By the darkness
And the faces of
Terrifying Demons
Fine Head, Great Posture!
By
Tom Wright
There once was a scientist from down under,
Who was predisposed to error and blunder?
In an attempt to clone,
He begat only bone,
And he became known as the Sidney wonder.
Subsequent seances of satorizing sanctities signal two fold sinfold shat sightings of nevertheless neverings that all ways
super suggest our innate inadequacies pertinent to socio precious
pontifications post prevalant askings of the revr
irrevelant rationings of a rationedrace resigned to complacent cow a tures politico compliant to the inner igno twinings adjacent to your soul
sellings as they relate to yr inner partisanplasmic potentials. remember yr humble DNA, beginnings as they restorocoordinate
yr predisposed primary plastic parental beginnings as to what is for u as an emo entitiy. As a parent times three of the son persuasion,
I can contrast contemplate the socioprotocals that r supposed sublime to cater to the male powers to be and socio sale the rental rites of
tremors that will swell the estrogenic ebb tides of common bond intelligence. I am at a personal peramater that is awash with the
paritisan status quo and the beliefs that LIE within the scope of their being. Retread the constitution and all that the FF's put into place for
the good of the postulate union as a WHOLE. Persuasion is inconsequential, no matter,
in---adequate as to its modern day relevance explicit. If u can't sociocope and lean really far foreward, and do us a big
FAVOR AND OFF YOURSELF, OR CONVERT, INTELLIGIZE YOURSELF, RE EVAUATE YOUR brAIN RELiaANCE, SEEK STRENGHT FROM YR gone YOUTH, IF U CAN STILL FIND IT, AND GO
INWARD TO LEAP OUTWARD TO HELP ALL OTHERS
REGARDLESS OF RECOGNITION, WEALTH, SENIORITY OR ANY SELFSERVING SIGNAGE OF SELF RIGHTEOUS SIGNFICANCE.
THE BEST HELP IS THAT WHICH IS GIVEN, USED, AND PASSED ON, NO THANKS NEEDED,
PAY IT FORWARD times 3. Give is as Give does in the insignificant web we weave. Careful with who u have for breakfast,lunch, dinner, snack,desert
and night cap. All things being ugly equal r alive and wish u ill. Perverse protocol is protected in a nestled non conveyrance of abbey normal malice. Step right up!
Love has become a splendid thing, I love you
Interchanging your soul, our souls in the fog
Of morning drizzling like joy upon the grass.
I will awake this morning, I know I shall
When I am awaken I will sing with you
I am singing for you, I know that I am
All the poems that like fresh mountain springs
Come into my heart trickling soft and slow
And pure, and clean, but above all fresh
Very fresh the scent of your nakedness, your smile
As your eyes open into my eyes looking at you
Telling you in every language and tone I love you
You will remember our lives forever wrapped
In the heart of a morning, and you will sing too
Rinsing, washing, cleansing, until our days are pure
Of yesterday's hard memories, of dark longings
And conditions that predisposed our former misery.
Roan is the color of the horse in my heart
Galloping madly to meet your gallop in the pass.
I love you, I love you, I love you, again and again
The heart will say because it cannot speak eternity.
Man speak of love then with so much vanity
Knowing that evening comes leaving a mound in the yard
The place where every grass is scraped away like a bruised knee
O darling the dream is tomorrow, memory is tomorrow
But love, our love, is for always, for all mornings
Filled with singing:
Listen to birds breaking out in chorus
Listen to bees in perfect rhythm keeping beat
With the harmony of trees, and the alto of tides
Listen, listen I say to the rivers rushing
Up the scale. Morning is like a tree laden with love
I sing it to you forever, forever, forever, I love you.
Spelunking inside her mind,
searching for the answer she cannot find.
She keeps looking, draped in fear
as she asks, why am I here?
No one is guiding her path
she only exists as an aftermath
of two drifting, lost souls
who were unable to define their goals.
Two humans united on a withering night,
giving spark to a life without delight.
How could they in such despair
not be fully aware
that the seeds of poverty they sewed
would grow up to be predisposed
to a life of abject gloom
because their spirits contained not one bloom.
Growing up with a feeling of being alone,
keenly aware she didn't belong
in a community with a rare glimpse of grace
for a family seemingly out of place.
Streets lined with false facades
of people believing they were a favorite of God's.
A little child unable to discern and find her way
became the nasty people's prey.
After years on the battlefield of life,
she again feels the pain that cuts like a knife.
A divorced mother of two; one a father, the other gay,
they both live far, far away.
She bows her head to pray,
and ask why does it have to be this way.
Her heart is empty of cheer.
She softly whispers, why am I here?
What have I done?
I became the speech
of starless night.
Oh! I almost melted
hearing God
in you,
not ‘cause of guilt I should’ve owned.
‘Twas really you, your voice
inducing ism of greater self.
Show me some
humility,
not by telling me
your present.
You were wrong
when you predisposed
my past
has something
to do with my sorrow.
Do I still have
pride
to swallow
when you’ve already cast
the first stone?
Ah, whatever you think!
It matters
no anymore
for I to my grave
the sweetness of your tongue
...once mine.
You Are Not Cute
Are you cute
Dare anyone should say
To label you so frilly sweetly
And make of you more akin
To a Disney Panda of a Tinkerbell fairy
Cute
Does not belong between your breasts
Nor define the shape of your neck
Neither does it strip in the tousles of your hair
Or lay bare against your thigh
At midnight
It cannot trace the lines of sweat
As panting soft throws back your head
Or ride to the subtle whip of your eyes
No, it cannot define the soft bitten lip
Or echo those moans that leave you wet
Dripping in the hunger for my woman
Cute
Is not predisposed to handle such feminine wiles
That turn my head and heart to mush and mess
When raw and naked lust sources my fingertips
And I am lost in shuddering trembling curves
When I am drinking in everything feminine
As your body arches
Nor can it hold you in a moment
And simply etch your beauty through my blood
With the sway of your hips as you walk
Or play with that sweet tongue sexual
As we talk
Neither can it flutter on your eyelids
Or even perchance linger on a wisp caught at the corner of your mouth
It will never hold me in the throws of loves worship
When your form describes a female so perfect
From the tip of your nose to the end of your toes
As you thrill and seduce
A stripper still clothed
Boiling in my cauldron of want
Cute
No my love, you are not cute
How could a ravishing radiant vision of womanhood
Be ever defined
As such