Sayeth unto thy ears wouldst thee unto hear be

Sayeth unto thy ears wouldst thee unto hear be

For they interest pique not in twink of eye

But in lips fold in snickered sneer unaligned by neither ear

Twixt a vex to woosome contort

Aligned within passion’s mockery of truest court

Apaced in divined mooded muddle of catered taste

Ran said thy of globbed happenstance dabbled in feigned need

Only to be doused by spilt conquer spoil

Beheld be I not

Of noticed matured begot

Yet prefer thee a dally than deny

Lest begged off offer be paretaken

A lieu of nature’s other to whom it rest upon than thine dereliction

To cup filled over in despite of overt unthirst

An emote of devote is but a mite of carnivorous beast eer intent on feast

In ignore that of appetite wane to the least

Sayeth unto me wouldst thee unto be

To gain loan of compaigne for desist solitary syne

CAll of the Mild

Dawn climbs the horizon yet not
As the dark brew ground fine brews to steamy hot
Awake though lesser in aware
Unbalanced with vision blurred by bloodshot

To nothing doest unfocused stare
Time thunders ‘gains sleepless rue
Despite the effort of Sandman to lull with coo
Night upon night doest his call be stilled
Save a nod overtaken for an hour or mayhaps two
As thoughts too import display on ceiling to be mulled and milled

Alone in the dark and dreary
One finds life all the weary
A flash of blade cross’t the wrist
To an end’s crimson kiss one canst be not overly leery
In the alls of things unseen, felt and miss’t

Said ‘tis of silence it casts its shadow hued golden
Yet too few in belief are beholden
As pronounced offense of voice
When best to swallow and hold in
Leaving but not a mark of an idiot’s choice

Trudge to the drudge apt to its suiting
To toil in rote and banal routine
Though promise made the setting of the day last
Expect the mundane a curb and booting
Yet lay in casketed mold to be once again its cloned cast

Alone in the dark and dreary
One finds life all the weary
A flash of blade cross’t the wrist
To an end’s crimson kiss one canst be not overly leery
In the alls of things unseen, felt and miss’t

Conversation down to vulgar emphasis is but all the same
An adult placed in the childish notion that it be good just to be in the game
To be trapped on a canvas ‘stead of a yet muraled wall
Painted in vibrant intent only dulled by discontinued scrawl by the edged frame
To dry to flake to fade to impression if anything at all

Despair in the wonder naught in lifetime’s past
Of the drown’d choke of aghast
Short the far of inspired aspire of the once
Fallen willingly to be tied molded in cast
As wouldst a moronic dunce

Alone in the dark and dreary
One finds life all the weary
A flash of blade cross’t the wrist
To an end’s crimson kiss one canst be not overly leery
In the alls of things unseen, felt and miss’t

Goest does there is always ‘nother morrow
As if seconds, minutes, hours, decades were made to borrow
It is not
Imbibe with trickery the asphyxiate of bottled sorrow
To hope an unlearn of what was the taught

To the world berate their classify
End to which does not the least intra-mollify
All is a beget
The live it is but elongated die
Of own it was thine down in let

Alone in the dark and dreary
One finds life all the weary
A flash of blade cross’t the wrist
To an end’s crimson kiss one canst be not overly leery
In the alls of things unseen, felt and miss’t

 

 

I’m layin’ this one down for the Poet’s rally. For finer material place check out the folks here:
http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2015/02/hyde-park-thursday-poetry-rally-week-81.html
A thank ya kindly out for the award:

Week 80 the perfect poet award
And as part of this though I think all have merit, I would nominate “justabitofpeace”

Aphrodite’s waive

The wane of love take not as soften’d
But it be of the violent
Not to be entwined in that of lust
That be simple in its vile to be lent
Wary be of the fined than of roughen’d
For with practiced favour
The keen’d slice the bearer a clean
Of effort none in trail less done –
A death to what
To a whom in for whatever
Matters none
The construct of a function
To a deceive of passion’d fashion.
Ah yet tis but of the much
To be accost in jagged rend –
Gouged
Chunked
With the spatter awash ‘round
Those who’s with time did thee spend.

I am submitting this as part of the Hyde Park Poetry Palace. I hope that you take a look at other fine poets that are participating as well.
http://promisingpoetsparkinglot.blogspot.com/2015/02/hyde-park-poetry-palace-thursdy-poets.html

Pass on By

Pass on by
You are not worth the try
I see it in the darkness of inner eye
Tis naught but a lie.

Must we do this dance
Fate is unwilling to you entrance
To take broken chance
On such an spackled illusion of romance

Pass on by
You are not worth the try
Pretend not a damn cared or disappointed sigh
Tis naught but a lie.

A pine cannot behold nor behest
Just as smile can mask a personality less’t
A surface not in kind but in skewed jest
That passion’s wings open not but nestle tight in undisturbed rest

Pass on by
You are not worth the try
Promise any or all below, in, above the murked sky
Tis naught but a lie.

Be it the look seen when thought not seen
Blinded by the beautiful ugly not I in keen
The lines can be read that are in between
Of what will be said backed into what already has been

Pass on by
You are not worth the try
To wish a well in an adieu, farewell and goodbye
Tis naught but a lie

Coated in sugar still the center will be as bitter and tart
Coo all of phallic think to bind to a heart
Crueled in notion of such shallow start
Ergo separate, individual, we be apart

Pass on by
You are not worth the try
What never was cannot fade away and die
Tis naught but a lie

For a Yearn Interned

Behest this adivise ye for a yearn interned
Take to the marrow the unseen as experience learned
Beckon naught of who would for who should have strived
Be step to step in pace of others to saken our own in derived
Within deny the murk of night to cast down mask stoically worn
Invite not Himeras and Pothos to undress the mind’s binding adorn
To breathe to the tickle and shiver guiding thy within this feral hap’t
Let devour the mouse of inspected expect with animalistic aspect of ye born
Suckle, nuzzle, lick, and lap til all want is sap’t
With every fleshed curve and line experienced and map’t
Erefore the gnarled finger of self-accuse raises its hackle in the tangent glare of morn
And again the more shackled in others percept be trap’t
Mayhaps such sally tis best to be deprived
Never to know of the drown or to have survived
To peek out in stilted who is seeking the who could in forlorn
Sayest the coal ne’er to be charred, emberred or burned
Saved for a yearn interned

Memories of Pleasant

Sentiment set in meant
Packaged for the pick of age to nestle enfold
Stilted in skew for stunted regale
For a perceive
Frilled neat to adorn the day’s lament

POPCORN GOODBYES

A seed yellowed brightly gleamed with full promise

Sizzled in heat to explode

To gargantuan proportion

Peaks and pocks that in its white plume

Cause such ache to savour for the longest time

Only to dissolve swiftly once tasted

What was once seemed substantial but left now naught an empty husk

A disappoint in knowing that only one,

Even in its alluded puffed promise

 Could never satisfy

To be forgotten in the quick by the taste of another

You and I in a popped corn goodbye

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