Long To run amok Poems
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You’re an *******.
Words muttered out of context, out of line.
A rage-shadowed truth,
but with such unexpected forthrightness,
it missed its mark,
serving only to deepen our divide.
Home is no longer where happy is.
I’m not sure it ever was.
There’s no abuse hurled or fists weaponized,
and much
— if not all —
is done with the intent of love.
But even so,
my nerves are frayed, and I can take no more.
Three hours pass,
and I begin counting down the seconds till escape.
Has distance weakened me so?
Have the miles between myself and that tumultuous guilt-laced anger
made me so fragile and contemptible of thought?
The fatigue enters my very bones from the moment I cross the threshold,
and anxiety-heightened feelings fight their short leash
with new resolve.
Where before I ruled my emotions and responses
with resignation and an iron fist,
I’ve become a feeble-willed sovereign,
allowing them to run amok with freedom previously unexplored.
No part of my reaction
or unbidden tears
are based in reason,
no matter the (harmless) judgments passed or words that can’t be rescinded.
Countless crueler realities play out
near and dear to my heart.
I must be pathetic and wicked,
(for others truly have a cross to bear; I have none)
and I should believe I deserve
to pay for my disfavor
in the very blood that runs through us all.
Matthew 15:4: “For God said,
‘Honor your father and mother’
and
‘Anyone who curses their father or mother
is to be put to death.’”
I cannot apologize enough
to erase the stains of my thoughts,
nor can I gather the resolve to twist this on myself
any longer.
I am unworthy of a love such as that which I receive.
Of energy that’s sent by you,
’Tis more than likely none gets through.
And when you wish upon a star,
The odds, more likely, aren’t than are.
And when you try to bring good luck,
things are as apt to run amok.
Enlist a specter of the dead?
Some things are better left unsaid.
It seems to me your influence
Possesses slight incongruence
When seeking on behalf of me;
Your means lack certain agency.
For energy and wish and chance,
Invoking spirits from a trance,
At risk of repeat, I must stress,
Seem not a pathway for success.
The wish and energetic bits
Suggest a certain loss of wits;
For undirected in the void,
What means is it they might employ
To guide the path which they traverse
and not attenuate or worse?
Contacting spirits of the dead
Who, when alive, unlikely led
You to believe all-knowing kin
Who never returned calls back then
Would suddenly then change their mind,
Give answer and be able to
Fulfill requests thus made by you?
Now it might really make you laugh
That I would pray on your behalf;
But channeling a beam at you
Just gives me migraines ere it’s through.
And if I tried to bring you luck,
The obvious by which I’m struck
Is when the coin shows tails, not heads,
Did my wish bring you ill instead?
At least the target for my prayer:
An all-wise IS who’s everywhere.
Can I aim true? I have a shot,
For there is nowhere He is not.
And further, He inclines His ear,
Assures us that our thoughts are clear
Received by Him, and better still,
He carries out when in His will.
Can He accomplish what I ask?
The universe: a simple task.
So humor me, I’ll pray for you
And leave to Him to see it through;
At worst, it hurtles to the void,
The gods, remaining unannoyed,
but that just causes inward groan
At thoughts of whether we’re alone…
So ponder if it could be true:
The Infinite considers you?
For that’s an elevated thought
that lands you in a bigger plot
eliminating luck and chance
Or raising spirits in a trance:
A God who knew you in advance
And wants to be with you.
LIFE’S A GAMBOL – THEN YOU DIE
I am a woolly little lamb.
That ewe’s my mum, my dad’s the ram.
Mum told me how that came to be
But it seemed a little rude to me.
Dad’s favourite song is by U2,
The one called “All I Want Is Ewe”
I’m always full of mischief, I like to run amok.
The shepherd always calls me the black sheep of the flock.
He even called the vet in to treat my strange affliction.
He quickly diagnosed it; I’ve a gambolling addiction.
I have to live life while I can; so please excuse my bleating.
For as you know, life for a lamb is always somewhat fleeting.
Whether I am good or bad, one thing is sure of course.
I know I’ll end up on your plate, smothered in mint sauce.
I've had an 'out of body' experience
So you can't blame me for what I did
My alter ego Oscar perpetrated the crime
To do such a thing I'm too timid
I'm totally innocent of this heinous act
Must have been devoid of all morals
Listen I still do have a few of them left
With that you surely can't quarrel
This heinous act of stealing a kiss
Had crossed my mind a few times
But being the timid soul that I am
Never thought of crossing that line
So I'm not guilty, pleaded nothing wrong
It was Oscar my mischievous friend
Who tends to run amok once in a while
And I'm always having to defend
I've had an 'out of body' experience
So you can't blame me for what I did
My alter ego Oscar perpetrated the crime
To do such a thing I'm too timid
I'm totally innocent of this heinous act
Must have been devoid of all morals
Listen I still do have a few of them left
With that you surely can't quarrel
This heinous act of stealing a kiss
Had crossed my mind a few times
But being the timid soul that I am
Never thought of crossing that line
So I plead 'not guilty' to any wrong doing
It was Oscar my mischievous friend
Who tends to run amok every once in a while
And I'm always having to defend
© Jack Ellison 2014
I've had an 'out of body experience'
So you can't blame me for what I did
My alter ego perpetrated the crime
To do such a thing I'm too timid
I'm totally innocent of this heinous act
I'd have had to be devoid of all morals
Listen I still do have a few of them left
With that you surely can't quarrel
This heinous act of stealing a kiss
Had crossed my mind a few times
But being such a timid soul that I am
Never thought of crossing the line
So I plead 'not guilty' of any wrong doing
It was Oscar my mischievous friend
Tends to run amok every once in a while
This dude I'm always having to defend
But I give him props he's about to confess
To absolve me of any naughtiness
The only one thing I could be guilty of
Is fantasizing to the point of excess
#Precious
Day in and day out,
In my window,
my eyes lay low,
like a lion on its prey,
awaiting only to quench my soul
with your luminous glow.
Your drizzling laughs,
consistently sending shivers down my spine.
Wish you'd peep into my stomach
whenever you toss your eyes to my direction, constantly provoking the butterflies in my stomach, to run amok.
Shut my eyes,
clot my earsdrums,
in your distance my heart reverberates,
tie my tongue,
for my soul screams to your aura,
less these streets hear whats not meant for their ears to consume.
From a distance fell so hard,
bruises on my heart awakes
whenever I lay my eyes on you,
like demons in my spirits
evoked by your purity,
Owe it to bow to your parents
for slipping a goddess out of heaven,
without God's knowledge,
right into my vicinity
#Poetic_ink