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a birthday poem for S.

perhaps, this is the responsibility, the purposeful gentility,
that poetry engenders, that thwarts the impulse to anger,
guiding away, finding a way, to temper the temper, to out
and joust away our basest, our first, but never our foremost
nor finest, succinct instinct, yet terrible human nonetheless...

perhaps, this is where we hide, neath our carnival masque,
our-would-be better selves, and struggle in this, this intensity intentional,

the season's change is subtly blatant, not obvious 'cept to those
who have a front seat, a well worn Adirondack chair in the nook
where the airy breeze offers fruits of words so easy, pluck words
as easy as breathing, and the slight gradation change, in the light and
temperature, and yet, the suns cares not, for it still warms my body,
though lower and slower, nonetheless, when the heat invades my soul, confirming my, our, existence,

burning off the fog of our contradictory confusions,
and eliciting an unsolicited
"thank you god"
for my, our personal miracle of re~birthing
and better comprehending,
that other
miracle we can embrace
never enough

loving kindness

sun~mon
sep 14~15
twenty twenty five
The phrase "to tame the savageness of man" is part of a larger quote, often attributed to the ancient Greek playwright Aeschylus, which reads, "Tame the savageness of man and make gentle the life of this world". This powerful sentiment was also famously quoted by Robert F. Kennedy, who attributed his translation to Edith Hamilton, and it calls for humanity to overcome its darker impulses for the sake of a more compassionate and peaceful existence
Helen  Nov 2013
First Date (IV)
Helen Nov 2013
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-17/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-ii/
http://hellopoetry.com/poem/first-date-iii/
(best read in order)

He blankets her with a mist that is fine and as pure as his postpartum soul is able to manifest. He’s sorry that she is sobbing on the dirt floor. He can’t think past the hunger that is beating upon her, which beats upon him. He is angry that his ancient predatory instincts are gaping to the fore.

   For the ancient being now gently weeping on a cold dirt floor.

Why did he not recognize her? How did he get so lax in the thinking that cattle could disguise it self?  A Wolf in Sheep’s clothing? Well... it’s not like he has not donned the same costume!

   He had been a Protector for so long. Rising each Sunset with the challenges that bring on the most predatory beasts that hunger for pain. He, alone, has stood beside Humanity to bring the world a semblance of normality, morality, a passing moment when they thought they were King of the world… but their inflated egos were never touched by doubt.
Because of him.

But she brings him down to the basest level.

   He feels…
    For her
     For her hunger
      For her emptiness
       For her utter contemptuousness


   She is the creature that he has been birthed to fight. The utter savageness that she brings forth when it becomes night.

He alone, in eternity, wanders the earth to make Mortal life the one thing that is right.

   She lifts her head from the cold dirt floor to stare at him. He materializes as a persona that should scare her, one that heralds Death, but his emotions are fraught with peril. She is important to him. He may have been birthed to bring Death but he was never denied that one could become his Life.

His pulse quickens, her eyes widen, her pulse quickens, he is afraid of the sight that lays bare in front of him. His fangs are buried deep in his bottom lip, he can not say a word even if his immortal soul depends on it.

   She licks her lips in hesitation, maybe anticipation; she could be licking her lips because of the small droplet of blood that lingers in the corner of her mouth. He wants to touch his tongue to said lips and cheek and ear and throat and, well HELL, he’s happy to continue south… as long as his tongue is touching skin…

   She looks away, briefly, and cries again. She is unable to fight past her hunger even though she has recognized the Protector.

She needs protecting too!

She’s so hungry!

But from the swelling of his body, *so is he…
and this is where the story ended, all those years ago... is there a future? Who knows?
Tha Noyz Jul 2018
Wake me up,
Do not forget me
See me, hear me
Nobody can bear it.
Once it looked like a mortal dream
Then time is up.
Pick me up from the earth,
The earth that i live smoothly, gently;
To savageness.
Sana Dec 2014
I let myself drown asunder
Ignorance is bliss?
Or is it hum durgeon?
Do not utter the sage in you
Nor shun;
Let me lull
For today I unfurl my placid eyes
And let my drowsiness drift
Away from these snollygosters

Let these destined tides sweep through me
Whilst I gently rise,
From the ocean of rage, I rise
Drifting through notes of gentle souls
Amid these crimson glistening waves,
I bleed among roars
Whilst shores sway with sounds of tabret,
And skies dance in nacarat,
For never it welcomed; Redness,
Such unsullied, such stainless

Time hath gone, of Abel and Aron
Yet altercation wanders amongst age’s heron
Time hath gone, of forgiveness and mercy
For today, lines are re-drawn
The goodness is not your goodness
Nor dare ascertain, the mischief and nuisance
Tis but what divinely revealed
Is benevolence..
Today I unsheathed Tutankhamun’s dagger,
Today I stand against savageness
Today I paint my hands in color of mercilessness
The brutality of militant terrorist group galvanised me into writing this piece after Peshawar massacre.
This is my candle light vigil.
Mitchell Aug 2011
There are times
When the clock
Stands still
And has no use at all

There are times
When the hourglass
Is empty
Without  a single speck of sand

There are times
When true love
Is not the fiery flame of bursting rose petals

But holds the guilty pleasure
Of a freshly exhaled cigarette
Crying its way into split grey and blue wall paper
Water stains splattered around
Like a shotgun blast
To the temple
Of Pollack

In this hour of stillness
The sound of dripping water
Is like
A solitary fortress
Filled with Ancient
Chinese gongs

The crow taunts with universal preciseness
Staining itself with blind savageness

They are like my ex's
Crying for
More and more
Love

Here
This place of pink eraser head monotony
Head bobbing as blue faced doctors
Flick their butts into the eyes of God
Their names being called half way through their break
Their lives being spent and bent around the dismal dead
Their lives to be revealed as the table of savage time slowly slowly turns
And they will look into the eyes of the young and say...
"That was me once"

But here
In this lapse between love and loneliness
Ambition and Ambivalence
Passion and Impotence
Elegance and Clumsiness

This place I
Clumsily
Naively
Stumbled upon

Where the block is ****** with heads
With all that have come before me
Strewn mile long entrails
Lining a wooded dust covered stage
As  thousands of peering peasants and tight tipped thieves and makeshift martyrs and raving royals
Watch
With keen and stale horror

Here where eyes and ears and teeth belong to everyone who has ever lost

Men and women
Lift their heads
Towards the last stretch
Of key clicking
Infinity

Here
In this place
I turn and stare into the gritty haze
Of the past

I turn again
Like the wheel of mismatched fortune
Toward the blinding illusion
Of a future
With no clear stars

In this place

A lone tree poses atop a hill of fire and death and freedom
And I stand
Beside it

As if
It were

My only

True

Friend
Marshal Gebbie  Aug 2013
Juxta.
Marshal Gebbie Aug 2013
Wipe that teardrop from your cheek
Smooth the worries from your brow,
Go buy yourself that pretty frock
'Cos the Court Injunction's come through now.
All the hassle, all the fight
Evaporates and that's a fact.....
He gets to toss and turn tonight
For you're the cream that got the cat!

You turned it all around my pretty lady,
You saved the savage beating for the end.
You played a little ploy that emulated joy
But in fact it was a trap to make him bend.
And bend he did, my pretty, Oh how he did bend,
When the object of the exercise was clear,
He exposed his top ace card with unfortunate disregard
To resultant amputation's near and dear.
Now I'm not saying you are cruel little lady
I'm not saying you are anything but fair,
But the savageness of swipe does seem just a little trite
For he no longer brags about, what isn't there.

Moral of the story is simple, sweet and true
It's as plain as the nose upon your face,
If you're going to play about keep your trouser firmly out
Of the razor swiping range of lady space.


*As a poem this reads terribly...but it was an absolute giggle to create!
M.
Gabriel  Mar 2018
Savageness
Gabriel Mar 2018
Always held so strictly by placid imitations of divine
Visual master sickly to those who remain ever blind

Feed by egotistical mischief meant to nourish only descent
Relishing in despair as though only true pain is the intent

Bruised are these fake shells that fester from the inside
Never realizing that a soul does not have to sold to die

Yet trapped inside it's own cage as a maker of self ruin
Far too lost in the feeling of sinking teeth into another undoing
Scot Powers  Jun 2013
Pitfalls
Scot Powers Jun 2013
In my forty-sixth year
I have learned to stay clear
of the pitfalls which once
befell me

Lessons I've learned
as the years burned
have turned out
to warn me

the voice in my head
quells urges to tread
where once  it seemed
I ran blindly

perspectives  have changed
like  land after the rains
have rushed by and scoured
it dry

feelings have changed
as I watch with dismay
society falling around me

the lines of the past
no longer last
blurring to a grey
hazy outline

it is claimed to be
kinder and gentler to thee
but a savageness
does underlie

all that remains
of the kindness that's claimed
cheap fascia, wrecked by the rain

gentleness does apply
to those who ask why
ignorant of their surrounds

a kick in the rear
still it appears
is truly a step forward

as I have related
these feelings belated
again the changes occur

to all I must say
thank you this day
for reading the
words from my soul
just a Sunday morning adventure with the Muses and some coffee.
Jennifer Weiss Mar 2014
I dream of a world where we no longer think suffering is a prerequiste for happiness

I dream that I can stroll through crime ridden streets no longer fearing savageness

I dream that I can tell you I am 115 pounds of insecurity, that thinks you will laugh at her dreams of rapping

I dream your eyes loose their jealousy while your hands are clapping

I dream to not fear falling in love
Because wolves have made it into a word most girls know nothing of

I dream the world in my head comes to life
And instead of keeping me awake, the world is seen in a new light

I dream I don't have anxiety about who I am
Because everyone already knows me, and I am finally my own biggest fan

I dream my children can actually know the truth about the world they live in
Instead of comfortably accepting a veil that's too thin

I dream our freedom can exist without having to be defended
I dream that one day people won't be so in love with the idea of being offended

I dream that eventually another pair of eyes will fall on me for the first time the way yours did
and also give them the knowledge that they will love me someday, but they will already know how to forgive

I dream we can outgrow these devices that connect us through disconnection

I dream when I open my physical mailbox inside lies a letter expressing one's truest affection

I dream, larger and with more fury than any other dream, for the moment when everyone realizes being happy starts with just being...happy

I dream for fear of waking
Mitchell  Aug 2011
Still There
Mitchell Aug 2011
Waking fog I trip through the smog of memories misfit two step
Lyrics of lore gone past for bore of thoughts float off for evermore
Now awaken I speak in tone crack my bones as my lover is with no other
Fast to speak quick to the week I carry my soul in a soft pinkish bag
Surrounded by strangers that act much tamer then I ever wish to do
They are old timid watch this and that on an old unowned TV set
I stare as I wear my sleeves tucked in with no ounce of fear
Listen to the whistle of the horses galloping through the meadows there
Money separates us from animals but still that savageness
The deep natural fear is still
Quite there

— The End —