Best Regrettable Poems
She said, if I correctly recall,
That, for her, a sustaining love is an
Absolute prerequisite for what
Would be a total commitment of the
Coupling bodies...and all that
Constitutes the essential parts of the
Eternal Soul;
And I not so assuredly competent
In this - the practice of such a higher
Art!
Adding, some little time later, that
Being so chained, in what she described
As an unfortunate consequence of a
Most regrettable thrall,
To a domineering Harlequin who,
When mindlessly exercising the upper
Whip hand, had neither modest restraint
Or any amount of unimpassioned
Self-control,
Was, in fact, just a flagrant excuse
For a base lust;
Of course this was not to be confused
With the laudable and gallant actions
Conceived within the inner workings
Of a steadfast and more openly honest
Heart.
And was I convinced that I was indeed
Sincere in all my avowed pledges?
And did I truly understand that all her
Troubled life she had tirelessly
Searched for one such as I purported
To, somehow, seemingly be?
How I instantly can bring to mind
Those obscure and doubting mutterings...
Still carrying upon an ill wind I
Should not wonder;
I think of them like the songs of the
Naiads: what woefully remaining
Sounding endlessly above the glassy
Tinkling of a mystical lakeside's
Stiffened and shuffling Sedges;
You a modern-day Danae, infant Perseus
Clutched to your swollen breast, your
Little box, in all its abject
Loneliness, now set adrift upon some
Desolate and open sea.
What turned out, in the end, to be a
Pointless charade. Perhaps; but that
Which, despite shortening periods, whilst
Enduring felt almost timeless.
Then of course this shared guilt...
That will, shamefully I fear,
Forever bind us.
Something Sweet,
A gentle touch.
A faraway dream,
here I am stuck.
Something sour,
a slight change in mood.
A regrettable decision,
to find the truth.
A little thought.
A mile away.
A gentle touch,
be brave today.
I learned a lesson;
To love and let go.
To never forget...
The highs or the lows.
I was set in my ways
Downed café au-laits
In a den of privacy.
Though pain from a jilt
Still throbbed to the hilt
A regrettable history.
With no delusions
Of future effusions
I cherished my liberty.
And tried to avoid
With every fibroid
That lost road to misery.
Yet a sneaky charmer
Found cracks in my armor
Ensnaring me unwary.
It was only a glance
A pure happen-stance
No intentionality.
But a sound like a crack
That I can’t take back
A fated futility.
Made me squeal out loud
When if from a cloud
A bolt of liking struck me.
With no more deterrent
This ardent current
Put glee in my fantasy.
At the speed of light
Our romance took flight
In ionic felicity.
A vile visage has been there since ages ago,
Around the corner, scythe in hand, waiting.
He knows life’s course must take me there
On a one-way journey I have been evading.
I cannot know when I must make the turn,
But age and health offer foreboding clues.
His countless clones harrow other corners
Waiting to collect mortality’s final dues.
A heart flutter reminds me of the corner.
Bone and blood perceive what is inevitable.
The finality that awaits is only a step away—
A chilling specter that’s gravely regrettable.
There they are__ made each day no shame, no disgrace...
Constant reminders of who controls the human race.
We wake up every morning and get hot on the chase...
gotta get the God with big numbers on his face...
gotta hurry along... got no time to waste...
gotta be first in line_ anyhow in any case.
Jamming down my food, pimping my style in great haste...
no time to pull up my pants or tie my shoelace....
grabbing coke and candy_ gotta keep up the pace...
sodas, coffee, caffeine_ smoking crack-freebase.
Looking up in the air, and down in any space_ ....
over here or there_ it could be any place....
cheating through life_ up my sleeve_ a spare ace....
lies are the present _ truth is gone without a trace.
There they are__ made each day no shame, no disgrace...
constant reminders of who controls the human race.
persisting un regrettable unabatedly to abase...
our plagued souls_ with anything antidepressant laced.
Sing me the song of the seventh moon
That orbits the planet of Tralaloon.
Where plants and animals might be the same,
The only way to tell is to ask them their name.
The animal’s names all start with a “C”
Like Curt or Carl or Cuallabee.
Which helps the inhabitants to keep everything straight
When the kids get together and they want to date.
Because plant names it seems all begin with an “S”
Or sometimes a “C” but that leads to a mess.
Because it would only ever be the soft “C” sound,
So names like Cyril or Cindy and Circle abound.
But when their names are written down on a list,
Sometimes that nuance of pronunciation gets missed.
And the havoc created in this situation,
Has lead in the past to deflowered vegetation.
The older ones tell them to remain separated,
While the youngsters think it’s more fun integrated.
Does any good happen when the two of them mix?
We must put an end to these unnatural tricks?
But to the wise old elders the youth will not stoop,
That’s why the young were gathered and put into soup.
And while the loss of the young could be viewed as regrettable
They did make a delicious blend of animal and vegetable.
So listen to your elders, they know what they’re doing,
Or take care to be sure that it’s not you they’ll be stewing.
you ripped my heart out and threw it on the floor
I don't know how to feel anymore
You twisted me into your lies and deception
I know I'm stronger then this,But i cant seem to get away
your touch is so unforgettable but regrettable
your kisses are breath taking but destructive
I love the things you say to me, even though its all a lie
some things feel so real, i don't know if i should believe you or leave you
And for some reason I'm stuck
you hurt me so much, but i keep coming back to you
And i don't know why i cant ever seem to get you off my mind
Your like a drug that i cant get off of
Everyone tells me to get away from you, but i can't
You got me bound to your heart and your heart only,
I don't get why it cant be that way with you
You tell me you love me,
but i wonder do you tell the others the same
My hearts tied in a knot,
restricting me from feeling anything but numb
I don't know what i want, the confusions growing deeper
Digging its nails into my skin
I sit and watch my tears fall to the floor,
As i wonder if you hurt the same
I need you, but i want to get rid or you
I want you, but i don"t
I love you, but i hate you
I am confused
With his arm held closely by his side,
President Putin took a ride,
On his steed, so big and strong
Who thought this man could do no wrong,
It is regrettable to say
Only a horse could feel this way.
Putin is a manipulator,
A narcissist and a dictator.
Putin was on the run
Being President was no longer fun.
On a golf course far away,
Where Donal Trump and cronies play,
Mr Trump thought he played golf the best
But was never put to the test,
Because the Don was drunk with Power
All his fickle friends would cower,
They all bowed down to him
This situation proved to be grim,
He and golfers all gossip a lot,
About private matters that they should not.
Wouldn't it be fun,
Some peace at last for everyone,
If Trump was playing on the course,
And Putin passed by on his horse
Shouting out to his buddy,
Donnie, come away with me.
As things for Trump were getting hot,
And some thought he had lost the plot
It looked like a good idea
For Trump to run away from here.
So without further ado,
No goodbye or toodle-oo
Putin, with an almighty tug
Heaved Trump the big fat lug
On to his faithful horse
And without a whiff of remorse
The two rode away
And have never been seen since that glorious day!
Silence, the power of noise that brings stillness to the ear
Power, the audacity of every man’s desire to manipulate
Resilience, what a way to bounce-back, the mass is always intact
Imminent, it’s here it must be, for you see it’s your plan for victory
Never, lose hope; there is always a possibility if you don’t give out
Goodness, what a way to go, just live right and you will overcome your plight
Function, a way of life, a stepping stone to an ultimate goal
Organize; this will make your day, and delight you in every way
Worship, your creator a call for victory and empowerment
Acknowledge, what is right from wrong, that your scorn will be gone
Restoration, a new place to begin to alter your thrill
Destiny SPRING FOWARD never look backward to prevent
a regrettable calamity
repugnant racist republican reviled - rickettsia re:itch ruler.
rapaciously ravaged revered reverential rubric.
radical ruthless renegade rapidly riotously rips rigged ramparts.
refrains retaining remnant redolent regal, resplendent rafters.
riches rudely rupture rooted rectified rights.
ruckus ricochets revenant reign.
ratified rattlebrained rules roil reductionism.
rumbustious rapscallions rollick; render ruinous ramifications.
rusty razor razing revenge rents reprisal.
rabid rectal rictus rotten rebrands re-calibrate.
rambunctious revolutionaries rejoice.
ruffians ride roughshod routing reigning royalty.
reiterate revetting robust recidivist rationality.
ride Rolls Royce relentlessly rendering rock ribbing.
riffraff raconteur raise reactionary response.
revisit rancorous restrictive redlined realigned rightward rivets.
robocop ridiculously rubber-stamped reorganization.
recalcitrant reactors release rapture.
rash Russian roulette reconnaissance raconteurs rack rubles.
red room reflects republican RNA.
rap risible rheumy ratiocinated rug-rats revoke righteous refulgent repertory.
rapier robed robbers ransack reliquary resounding retaliation.
retaliatory redcoat regnum reformation remembered.
Rudy robotically recoiling rapprochement
raison d'être rosily revered rifled relics raffled.
rookie raves ripe rackful rubenesque reliably ranked.
refulgent rotundity requisite requirement re: reappointment.
road-tested, roadworthy redeem reapportion routed role.
reprehensible reassignment rapidly recognizes response.
rife rampage removes respectability - respect.
responsible roused restitution refuted.
risky resultant reconnoitering runaway railroad reverberates rivalry.
reflexive ramrod reaction reconfirms redoubling ridding revitalization.
reconfiguration realpolitik reinstates repudiation
rebooting Roosevelt regime reconsidered.
requisition requires resilient reseeding republic.
regrettable riley roars remorseless ribbing.
rare recount restoring recondite renown reprobate Rapunzel.
Republican representatives rejoice reclaiming reins
registering retarded romantic remains
re: Rastafarian revered reliquary rests!
My days in the streets of despair took me from scanty shanties
Intermittent through dreams drinking the syllables of books
Cast before my eyes, I was at the bottom of nooks and crannies
Hiding in barren valleys of bushes, and sometimes cast hooks
Angling the sea for food that did not feed brain alone. T’was then
Eagled in the sky I saw you like a speck of dew swelling up
Latent opportunities kept before my race as pittance in a cup.
Nobody knows the darkness behind the iron gate of hopelessness
Omitting light except to the paler color and privileged ten percent
Registered in the status quo as rich, despair was a sweet callousness
Meandering the streets at the edge of destructive explosion, pent
Anger muted by the false theories of our worthlessness. We let it
Nurture rebellion in rock steady songs, and battled on playfields over it.
Michael Manley meant more than a man, or regular politician
Anthem in my thoughts, a new hawk against the glitter of crown
Nurturing the trodden down with wand of words, a magician
Letting us believe in the self like an abeng picked from the ground
Entering the new day I campaigned alone to bring it to pass
Yielding nothing in the struggle to the old power of caste and class.
Intelligent, gifted orator, compassionate servant moved by solemn creed
None is left like you since death fragrant you with our native weed.
Men do not write their history alone without lead from God’s intention
Ending the culture of disbelief democracy had its breathless chance
Ministering to the hovels of colonial cast offs, I saw the raw fission
Orchestrating the destiny of the past, your tongue was a glinting lance
Reneging laws of understanding where some were too comfortable
Interestingly filling the place of the great house lord, and regrettable
Another excess of the left, disbanding Africa for blind white theories
Meaningless to our negritude, still you linger in fireside love and sweet stories.
Insidious, insipid, id-inebriated imbeciles
incite impetus into inevitable immolation.
Bombast, bluster and bluff: blunt batons of barbarian bullies;
backwards behaviour blackballs baronial breed's burdens and bonds.
Weasely, willy-waving warmongers wage wanton war of words
without wit, wisdom or worldliness, whilst we weakly watch and wait.
Regrettable, repugnant reprobates ravage refined realms with
reprehensible rapier-rattling and rancid rhetoric.
Clash of corrupt, contemptible cutthroats carves calamity 'cross
continents and culminates in catastrophic conflagration.
Pointless predatory and political power-plays pale as
pirouetting pariahic pyres patently a pyrrhic prize.
------------------------------------------
(16 syllables on every line, checked with howmanysyllables.com)
14 October 2017
Oh yes, my friends, it is me again
The Brat Prince straight from New Orleans
Yes,and don't try to deny it,
you've heard of me,
or perhaps we met once upon a midnight dreary-
whichever
You will remember clearly- if you're clever.
My unlife , yes. is still filled with sad, little Louis
His empathy for humans, the fool.
And our sweet, unforgettable regrettable child monster,
Claudia as she sleeps the eternal sleep.
I'll not take up your time, just wanted to say "hi" from
the gang- David, beautiful Armand, Marius and Gabrielle
(still in her tomb)
As I am sure you know, after Enkil and Akasha,
I stand as perfect-
the vampire most famous, you recollect
The Brat Prince, Prince of Darkness ... whatever-
I'm everyone's favorite!
The Vampire Lestat (Vampire Chronicles books)
"Interview With the Vampire" movie
Author Anne Rice
A. Green
3/30/14
Peace
“Lord, make me an instrument of your peace.”
~ Attributed to Francis of Assisi
How many years
Of Sunday sermons taught me
How easily
I can get away with it all
How terribly unfortunate
Some Jew took the hit
How comfortable
My soul and how
Small
O God
Why not indulge me
Can’t I be so bloated
I’ll support the dropping of bombs
On third-world rejects
So I can afford to drive a vehicle
Big enough I can drag into it my
Weighty carcass
Can’t I be so busy so drunk so drugged
I’ll never have to know
About anything regrettable
Can’t I amass a fortune
Skim off a soup of hedge funds
Leave a world of debt
What money’s left in foreign accounts
Tax free
But hey there’s still sales tax
Isn’t there
Racial superiority
Can’t I speak in ebonics to prove
Ebony rules
Can’t I don white sheets to prove
White’s better
Can’t I evade the border patrol to prove
Medical help’s free
Who’ll they follow back
To Tijuana
To remorse
To the cross
To alt.sex.bondage
Not me
How many years
Of indifference taught me
The usefulness of
Looking aside
Giving up
Coolness
No worries
Peace
~Thanks Always Returns
Strikingly Naked
By Odin Roark
Voicing the reflection one sees insures
the facade really is,
was,
must have been.
Time passes…
How smoky the reflection,
this aging identity of accumulated distortion,
where once perception played innocently,
found disguises to hide behind,
who now past the age of innocence,
sees the exposed abyss of shadowed deceptions.
Such awareness knows well the mirror,
where cognizance of the make-believe
beckons the right light,
the flattering shade,
the required eye-sparkle of denial,
no matter the reality.
At some point…
Behind the rehearsed and performed persona,
we raise the inner window
revealing the self-of-fact,
that place where we gulp
what air is left,
sucking up any reserved willingness
blowing in from subterranean shores
to help beat back our self-imposed exile.
One surges forward…
Pulls open the only door
the entrance we feared opening,
an opening your inner monologue
always whispered was there
but you chose to remain imprisoned
by the mirror.
Revelation…
The door now open,
leads to other doors,
so small they seem
as you bend, crawl,
find other rooms,
windowless cubbyholes,
where night sweats
and endless reprieves
once kept you breathing,
albeit your own recycled dead air.
How rewarding…
To see for the first time,
your own recidivist delusions
reverberating like shattered emulations,
blinding your eyes with its refractive light,
burning through regrettable behavior imprisoned,
where no steel bars were ever necessary,
where a place of truth awaited,
a wilderness you are finally ready to explore.
Such is the manifest moment…
When you couldn't be so strikingly naked,
had you not kept yourself so carefully dressed
all those years.