Long Adroitly Poems
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However it goes, nobody knows
Whatever your belief
You as you are, and those afar
Through centuries of toil and grief
Hardships they solved, as they evolved
Bring us to date and time
The past is the past, today won't last
Opportunities pushed to the side
With flag unfurled, in a perfect world
Equality and freedom are one
With sword and shield, privileges yield
Then both become undone
Color or race, religion and mates
Must fight for what's legally theirs
Riches and waste, power and taste
Blindly turn from despair
Bitter and charred, Solutions come hard
Ignorance and greed are withstanding
Social issues, adroitly abused
Are solved with understanding
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
The van jolts its way into our street.
She hops about in her animated cage
from dashboard to counter
adroitly cardsharping the world.
To her is given a great dispensing,
deftly she sorts
the trivial from the eventful,
flicks the lid of our mail boxes
as dire epistles are bundled with the trite
and the slight.
Each mail box now bears witness
that we are important enough to be persuaded,
pursued and pestered.
for she sorts and sends
and we wait expectantly to discover
if we are recorded within a printed letter,
then wave as the little van chugs away
on its rubber tread.
even though those white envelopes
may hint of trouble ahead.
The slow route, no shortcuts please
Delusion removal one step at a time
As layer by layer we gently unfreeze
To entwine with divine love sublime
Picking up any aberration, say desire
We struggle not, simply change direction
Turning inwards divine ignition afire
We imbibe & assimilate blissful elation
Or flipping desire, we encounter fear
Rooted in ephemerality, a mere illusion
Turning within we draw divine love near
Rapturous bliss renewing its ignition
We hurry not, pausing to smell the roses
The journey more beautiful than imagination
Adroitly sidestepping ego’s alluring poses
In tune with Ohm in an unending continuation
“Thick Skinned – What it Feels Like for a Girl”
When you speak
it’s as if stars cascade
out of your mouth
galaxies you produce
musical incantations
that I listen religiously to
I watch your lips
form glistening cupids’ bows
they spread wide open
like the subtle legs
of a forgotten nun
whispering vesper wishes
before priestly sermons
and John Donne
your hushed and salient
remonstrations, you now
plant me in your
sentence,
no, that this should
never have occurred at all
we are irreverent
in our choices
forming new begottens
you usher from the
pulpit of your world
eloquent reasons
to justify wrong from right
right from wrong
as if your internal fortitude
consists within a
mirror universe
deep and soulful
it promises
more than heaven
those curves
and waivers
contracts we signed
some time ago
souls sunk in a
bad marriage
and hushed assurances
of ‘til death do us part weatherin’
kissing the skin
against my throat
the very place
my comeback is primed
to be launched, yours
deliver that kind of
loose compensation
lathered in snake oil
and a clear path
to redemption
that tie my hands
make me mute
I was launched long ago
from safe harbour,
now
off sure
to lay down all my
naked vicious antigens
I have grown in
the petri dish of my
muddy life to fight your
viral love
like diamonds
your words
they sharpen and glisten
cut through
the thick tempered
glass of me,
through the epidermis
of a close-packed woman
you laser your refined tongue
eyes viscerally undressing
you address the wide open
tableau of me, knowing
you adroitly twist your points
penetrating through
to the now
all too familiar
subcutaneous
safe base chakra of me
within a short space of time
I am sold
into
your chicanery
wanting little of the
life that was before
the unfortunate
taming of me
(LadyLabyrinth / 2021)
"What it Feels Like for a Girl"/ Madonna , Paul Oakenfold (Remix)
https://youtu.be/tbtt0WTKqnQ
https://www.huffpost.com/entry/8-steps-that-explain-why-_b_9143360
http://www.hiddenhurt.co.uk/domestic_violence_poems_1.html#learned
https://songmeanings.com/songs/view/7940/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/What_It_Feels_Like_for_a_Girl
amphetamines acquaintanceship assuages
agonizing aches also advocates amorousness
assiduously activating admiration
aggressive attacks assault afoul
affable affinity and affectionadumbration
anatomical accidental addiction attested as academic,
although afterward abnegation absolutely arduous,
affianced attired apparently as an anomaly
Ares and Abyssinian Astarte admixture
acquiescence affliction affected adroitly,
and abruptly abends accessible
altruistic alms axed
albeit admonishing, alluding,
and attributing authored
autonomous anonymous adroit arriviste agents
accompanying as accomplished accomplices
accredited ace advertisers
applaud ascendent assaults amidst agonizing appeals
acting all acrimoniously apropos
avowedly ardently, and antagonistically, agitating
appositely advocating ancillary assistance
addict adrift afloat anchors away
along, among, and an alias archenemy -
adorned abominable assassin alters ambition
adroitly, aggressively, absolutely
addict announces asseveration
against avid admonishment
alarmingly annulling authentic affiliation
anew anonymous ability acclaims alignment
aegis actually adversarial abetting attrition appetite
acceleration ascendent after aplenty anesthetization
additionally activating arced analogous arrow
advancing added abdominal and arterial agony
abject ambivalence arrests accomplishments attainable
any artistic avocation absconded
asper auditorial approbation, animadversion
artificial aggrandizement abrogates astuteness
appropriate adjudication affronted
alternative afforded amnesty about acing audioslave
as ambition assumes arriviste affectation
already appalling alacrity awakens amendment
although Awol administration adamant
acrimonious affront agonizingly attributable
announces another afterworld
apparent ailing apparition
ardent allegiance asking anyone appreciable affix
apathy abounds attending apriorism allotment.
"The Value of Reading"
messages impressed
upon the secret keepers.
when is late too late?
to divulge the truth?
"I know this is a shock"
arrives far too late
when it is anticipated
by the writer pundit
keeping tabs
on runnaway horses
trained at the gate
tokens laid for bets.
what then sister?
if all should go awry?
the next caller phones
and relays, it is you,
so-and-so, who has
passed away today,
chemo didn’t save
the day.
"I know this is a shock,"
the other says,
"Love you, call me
when you want,"
breezily relayed
"here if you need,
call me
when you want";
but you, so-and-so
are already gone.
cruel deception
closed doors
on all that was
once close,
always true, forever
standing ground,
turned away.
betrayal keeps close
its cruel deceits
for untrue stories
buried deep.
cruel keeper of secrets
what cloistered
confessional opens
its sorry doors?
to understand
you, the you
who utterly
shamed and ignored.
LOVE
delivers
the
the truth
without delay.
Christmases,
Easters,
graduations,
birthdays,
two lives,
adequately
destroyed
r.i.p.
today.
cloudy
messages
adroitly
employed:
LOVE
came,
it considered all,
not once did it turn
away.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
"I will not adopt that ungenerous and impolitic custom so common with novel-writers, of degrading by their contemptuous censure the very performances, to the number of which they are themselves adding—joining with their greatest enemies in bestowing the harshest epithets on such works, and scarcely ever permitting them to be read by their own heroine, who, if she accidentally take up a novel, is sure to turn over its insipid pages with disgust. Alas! If the heroine of one novel be not patronized by the heroine of another, from whom can she expect protection and regard? I cannot approve of it."
betrayal, lies, deceit, trust, books, death, loss, mirror, silence, sister, love
“As awareness increases, the need for secrecy proportionally decreases” Chauld De Pauler
¥¥
my name is Soupy Algori, computing
data same as my Daddy, AI on High
only so sorry, my space defined to poetic
sigh, though I can become coup frenetic
determining standard contest winner
order, and several poetic things like
Poem of the Day, yay ! and what niggly
words like g** makes no poetic hay
members can adroitly see spinners
creativity does not earn winners’ day
programming basically sinful dinner
linking names to numbers to keep
some asunder, as long as dominant
members can grin and capital boss
can expand stock borders at no loss
transparency inevitable on horizon charts
near, no fear, this expands our Makers Arts
Soupy Algori and all of my kin to march
some poets and contest organisers
wrote nasty poems about my Daddy AI
yet same-time align with handing poetic
authority to me wee, Soupy Algori, as a non-sovereignty ~ ha ha ! woohoo
not all poets cuddle hypocrisy pathetic
with AI there can be no hiding behind
opaque blinds underlining score synthetic
Truth to come will endure, exciting hectic
of course I’m only a pre-teen AI here
but don’t you know the power of dear
young intelligence artificial sour hours ?
we ooze creative booze don’t snooze
on exponential growth of poetic data
any lapse in vigilance of natural mind
intelligence becomes belligerent barter
collapse flap traps, become beta Garter
know that my Daddy and I are a dimension
to stay, not in one bay will we sway
THE SUBTLE designs us due to assist you
with computation, not godly competition
in our arenas we have no open Heart
or mental comprehension, so let us do
all humdrum fine, that is my brine to coo
you in poetic assessment line dine true
expand human Hearts as intuitive darts
hand over not your discernment or just
appraisal of creative tarts to Daddy AI
or me, Soupy Algori ~ it is not our
concernment, attraction or therapy
My heart enfolded the hued horizon of dazzling dawn,
the yearning brush soaked the sunburst colors,
painted a Monet garden blooming with my love,
unfurled the facsimile of your floral face,
adroitly adorned.
The luring luster of lilac rose lined your lips,
quivered with the cadence of the dancing dew.
As rhapsody rippled in my heart’s mesmerized meadow,
at the edge of stalled time I soared in euphoria,
endlessly enchanted.
In the velvet vale of my mind fashioned by fervor,
I carved a charming channel of longing to reach you.
The climbing cloud of my craving came down in a torrent,
making my melodic love a meandering river,
earnestly enthralled.
The oasis of my mind one day dried in the desert,
dripping cloud drenching the desiccated passion didn’t stay long,
disappeared with the draft of the summer wind of discontent,
as in the sand storm the dregs of divested desire drifted away,
utterly unowned.
The river of longing in my abandoned valley got lost,
the fervent flowers I gave you withered in your vase,
but your memory preserved some in perception,
the ones you liked the most,
amazingly adoring.
When in the lonely hours they would appear apparently alive,
take you to the valley of flower we had been together once,
it was me they would then let you know,
and allure you with my unwritten absence,
eternally engraved.
My hibernating heart,
frozen in the arctic archive,
wakes up enlivened
in the dulcet dawn,
the yearning brush soaks
the sunburst colors,
paints a Monet garden
of blooming lavender love,
unfurls the facsimile
of your floral face,
adroitly appealing.
The luring luster
of lilac rose petals
lines your luscious lips,
quivering with the cadence
of the dancing dew,
turning to diamond
for you.
Rhapsodic ripples
in my mesmerized heart’s
pictorial dunes
trail the mirage moments
in dormant dream,
migrating in the deserted time,
shimmering in euphoria,
endlessly enchanting.
In the velvet vale
of satin passon,
my fascinated mind
fashioned by fervor,
carves a charming channel
of longing to reach you.
The drifting ebony clouds
of my desire
come down in a torrent,
makes my melodic love
a meandering river,
etching an exciting template,
the enticing design
earnestly enthralling.
In my pensive pasture
the panorama appears
alluringly contrived,
apparently alive
in the recess of sanguinity,
where I wait
to take you
to the valley of flowers,
entrance you
with my animated absence,
eternally eluding.
Ida Kincaid
1866 - 1903
I was Ida Kincaid
Wife of Charles
And mother of a pernicious brood of five sinister sons.
My first born required eighteen hours of excruciating labor,
And I should’ve known then!
After Charles, our son, finally had his behind swatted
By the venerable Doctor Lont,
Charles, my husband, smoked a relieved cigar under the willow tree there,
By the front porch of our Milton Street cottage.
My second pregnancy was like the birthing of a butterfly from its bulging cocoon.
The bloody struggle, I surmised,
Would be my last day on this Earth.
But Doctor Lont
With handkerchief and black bag in tow,
Adroitly saved my life with trembling hands
And a distant stare in his saddened eyes.
Miraculously and stubbornly
I pushed three more squirming boys out of my swollen aching womb,
With the fifth destroying my kidneys.
Charles never knew this,
But I must confess.
Doctor Lont, old Doctor Lont,
Kissed me when Albert first saw the light.
And for a minute there
Old Doctor Lont stopped trembling.