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Lawrence Hall Jun 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

                            On the Unlocking of Words

           Their leader answered him, Beowulf unlocking
           Words from deep in his breast:  "We are Geats…”

                    -Beowulf to the Danish Coast Watcher

In bold and sturdy four-beat lines
Beowulf keeps his knowledge clear
With kennings well-crafted and careful caesurae
And never needing to raise his voice

But thus the Grendel-voice responds:

“Woo woo that’s just my person opinion that’s what I’m talking about follow your passion learn to code no offense, but *** oh my God oh my God woo woo hey hey ** ** something-something has got to go woo woo only dead fish go with the flow tear it down shut it down burn it down woo woo lock her up there is no I in team woo woo not my president it’s not rocket science it is what it is woo woo say it loud say it clear this is what something looks like woo woo is there an app for that woo woo that’s what I’m saying woo woo…”

But you - be brave like Beowulf, and boldly dare
To unlock your words with creativity and care
We owe much to Tolkien, who popularized both BEOWULF and the elegance and strength of language well-crafted.
TheConcretePoet Nov 2019
On the night that we met,
like a mid summer's torrent,
I fell for you.

You, bathing in a
full moon's light,
I was powerless
it's true.

Your eyes were
one with the sea,
vast and deep...
I was drowning
    in you.

Arrest me
and take me
to live
in your paradise....
where all that's
left is to
  woo woo woo.
https://youtu.be/Rgg1Yczq4vI
Micheal Wolf  Jan 2014
slerp
Micheal Wolf Jan 2014
Woo woo woo I got a get some sleep
Woo woo I'm not as young as I feel
Woo woo just one more drink
Woo woo its all gone blurred
Woo woo the floor hurts
Woo woo slerp slerp
Woo woo
Woo
Snooze zzzzz
21 going on 50
“CAAAAMON-CAAAMON-CAAMON-CAMON. *******. *******, YOU STUPID *******!!!!”  I slam on the brakes as the traffic light turns red, the front end of my car now parked in the middle of the intersection.  

A bunch of headlights begin to move towards me, and I rev the engine, slamming the car into reverse.   Now behind the white line, I lean back and take a few breaths.  I sound like my old man.  That nasty, fat ***** was always screaming at those useless racehorses as his soggy, limp cigar would bounce from his lips, spit landing all over the paid-in-full fakies of whatever blonde ***** was cuddled up next to him for the afternoon.  Having lost everything by the end of the day, he would always plod home and deposit his soiled, checkered pants on the laundry room floor and crawl into bed to make love to my mom.  

Ugh. I need to stop thinking about him.  I already wish I could be one of those old horses who gets shot in the head.  Today was my five-year work anniversary, and on behalf of the entire department, volcano-face Emily bestowed upon me a massive dog bone, which now sits tauntingly on my passenger seat.  As she suppressed that nasty giggle of hers and handed me the bone, the room erupted with laughter, someone shouting from the back corner, “Hey, Ed! Get it?!  You’re always like a dog with a bone!”  Maybe I should go back to work and make that ***** play fetch.

No. I’ll save that for later.  Right now I am going to go get that Philly Cheese Steak sandwich that’s been on my mind all afternoon.  That is if this light ever turns green again.  But ******* is my mouth salivating just thinking about that sandwich.  

What the hell is that?

A Ford Bronco is blazing towards the intersection, directly into oncoming traffic.  It swerves onto the shoulder, speeding past the rows of stopped cars and blasting through the red light.  The driver is leaning out the window, swinging around a sword.  He notices me staring and looks straight into my eyes, solidifying his unspoken threat by pointing his medieval weapon straight at my heart.  

Fine.  If that ******* wants a duel, I would hardly be a gentleman if I did not oblige.  I reach behind the passenger seat and grab the antique cop light that’s been gathering dust on the floor ever since I purchased it at the neighborhood thrift store.  I slap the thing on the top of my car and punch through the red light, cranking the steering wheel to make a quick u-ey.  As I gain some distance, I can just barely make out the license plate.

DR PEPR

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Dr. Pepper ignores the fact that I am only 20 feet behind him and turns up his stereo, blasting a Renaissance dance tune from hell.

I’m going to end this, and I’m going to end it by sticking that sword up that Shakespeare *******’s ***.  

Dr. Pepper slams on his brakes, the sudden jolt causing him to drop his sword.  The passengers in the back of the cab burst into a slow-motion uproar, and I take the opportunity to cut off their escape route.  Now stopped, I pull out my mocha-flavored e-cig from my front pocket and look over at my dog bone as the vapor fills the car.  I snag the bone and step outside, feeling the weight of the rawhide in my hand as I approach the truck. Not stopping to bother with the driver, I head towards the back, kicking the forgotten sword into traffic.  My clothes are bathed in red from the brake lights, and the coked-out frenzy of the Renaissance men reaches a ****** as I stand before them, looking like the devil himself.

Adrenaline is surging through me.  As I take a drag of mocha, I scan the faces of the annoying pukes in the back of the truck and locate the nastiest in the bunch sitting in the middle of his troupe, completely stiff with fear.  I look deep into his eyes and slowly exhale.  I pull one more drag as I raise the massive bone and bring it crashing down, making full contact with the left brake light.  The red shards explode into the sky, and I do not hesitate to follow up with the other break light.  Adrenaline coursing through my veins, I can’t help but swing even harder.  

Wow - what a beautiful explosion.  

“Unsheathe thy sword!  UNSHEATHE THY SWORD!”

Dr. Pepper searches frantically for his sword as I casually approach his door. “Dr. Pepper,” I say calmly. He continues to desperately ***** around the truck, so I lean forward, “DR. PEPPER.” He turns begrudgingly to look at me.  Wanting to bid farewell to my defeated adversary, I raise my right hand into a 90 degree angle and wiggle my fingers “bye-bye” in his direction. His blood-shot, brown eyes widen, and it’s clear that he is terrified that his face will be the source of my next fireworks display.  Lucky for him my stomach growls, reminding me that my quest for a Philly Cheese Steak sandwich remains unfulfilled.

I walk away, the cherry light still flashing on top my car, so I take my bone and take a hard swing, unleashing the last set of fireworks in my perfectly-directed scene.  I get in the car, and as I start the engine, the oldies station is blaring Clarence the Frogman Henry’s song, “Ain’t Got No Home”.  It’s the best part of the song, and without hesitation I begin to tap out the rhythms on my steering wheel and sing along with Clarence in that high-pitched voice of his:

“I ain’t got no sister,
I ain’t got a brother,
I ain’t got a father,
not even a mother,
I’m a lonely boy,
I ain’t got a home.
Whoo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo!
Whoo-woo-woo-woo-woo-woo-­woo-woo!”
Lawrence Hall May 2021
Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
https://hellopoetry.com/lawrence-hall/
poeticdrivel.blogspot.com

              Graduation Speech Soup – Simply Stir and Serve

Keep the torch alive to pass to a new generation with the key that unlocks the road to the future follow your passion the unemployment will follow woo-hoo we’ve been through some amazing times together make a difference to thine own self be true woo-hoo commencement means a beginning not an ending woo-hoo as we go forth life is a journey not a destination we made it all the hard work we’ve put forth to this point in time these are the best time in our lives as one door closes another door opens because a journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step to make the world a better place trust your instincts you don’t find education in books we are the future bright with promise some see the future and ask why but we see the future and ask why not Habakkuk 2:7 woo-hoo we did it I can’t believe we’re here believe in yourself live your dreams to be all that you can be as a famous man John Kennedy once said God has a plan for you woo-hoo we have the responsibility to build a new world if opportunity doesn’t know build a door don’t follow the path blaze a trail because there is no one like you because you are an individual just like those other hundred or so people your age and all dressed just alike because life is what happens while you’re making plans woo-hoo live, laugh, love you have to look through the rain to see the rainbow dance like nobody’s looking (even though they are, and they’re laughing at you) aim for the moon and if you miss you’ll hit the moon (or something) life is not waiting for the storm to pass it’s about dancing in the rain because you are a new generation called to miss 100% of the shots you don’t take because we were all one big family who have lived, laughed, and loved together hey and remember the time (name) barfed on the stairs we’ll all that that shared moment to remember together woo-hoo we can’t save all the starfish but I can make a difference for this one because as a great man Robert Frost said in “The Road Not Taken” we can make a difference for all the starfish in the sea of life woo-hoo today is the first day of your rest of your life oh, the places you’ll go like maybe eternal stasis in front of a MePhone I don’t know why they asked me to be the speaker shout-out to Mom wear sunscreen because your future’s so bright close your eyes and remember when hey, an air horn, that’s so cool, no one’s ever done that before woo-hoo I want to congratulate each and every one of you on your incredible talents and abilities as you begin your journey to a bright and shining future because we are the best class (name of school and a shout-out to the mascot) has ever graduated (since last year) woo-hoo a dream is a wish your heart makes and you can become anything you dream to be or wish to be or something #lifehack #hashtag now go forth and make your lives exceptional woo-hoo although on Monday morning we’ll wake up and realize we’re just more unemployed Americans.
One longs for a world free of speeches.
Rail road          

Making love to the rhythm of the rails

That big locomotive traveling on the rails
O whoosh o whoosh woo woo woo
Clickedy clack clickedy clack clickedy clack
And the bouncing of every joint
Whoosh o whoosh o whoosh
A big base drumbeat as the motion
Gets faster and faster
Making its own sweet music
The journey has its own lyrics
A duet of balanced motion
Whistling along woo woo woo
Pulling into the station

Pulsing pushing pulling pounding prodding
Rumbling chugging moaning in the night
Through the dark night chasing the morning light
That headlight streaming white through the night
That squirting light
Quivering just before the dawn
Slender rails long want to ride
Down the mountains and valleys to the flat lands
And in the dark tunnels
Woo woo woo woo
Panting, wailing huffing .
Struggling up the hills
And roaring coming down  

Copyright 2017
Richard L Ratliff
A work in progress Please offer suggestions
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2016
rub it in... rub it in why don't you? isn't that the point of capitalism, this competitive mentality? why're you looking at me as if i killed your mother with a ******* harmonica?

i love how people regress their national frustrations
into sports - England is perfect with football...
oh? did i poke a beehive just now?
is Brexit for real now? it is now...
apparently one of the Icelandic managers is a
dentist, he just does the coaching in the summer
part time - i was walking for my daily metabolic
dosage of alcohol a little suspicious, acting out
all doom and gloom - well, it's more fun than
paying your taxes or seeking out career promotion
to be honest, after all, abolishing asylums turned
the entire social cohesion stratification into an
asylum, everywhere you go you have the phantoms
of "men in white coats", everywhere, can't ****
in an alley, can't drink a beer in public,
forget adrenaline *** - the entire human potential
of civilisation the Englishman stashed in his semi-detached,
by the way... don't you think that a Londoner will
find himself in lost-territory outside of London?
i love how the S.N.P. are in parliament 'aving a go
at voicing their compulsion for Brussels' choc &
guillotine chop policy - they want in... oh! does this
mean goodbye Jack ol' Boy? really? well, if you need
a ***** might as well be Wales - they're hanging, they're
hanging, and finally the bubble will burst,
why not Union John (like a toilet) or a Union Jeremy?
Union Jeffrey - Jaffas? Jizzum - Jazz?
but they're out for certain, if a bunch of
barbers, carpenters and sheep herders can beat them
living the Leicester City dream, i'm thinking of them being
the second Denmark from 1992 -
i've had so much emotion in my heart that now
i have a ******* headache - go on! a third goal! get in!
bam wam thank you Black Betty, bam ba'h lam.
it's not the football that interests me as much...
you seen the fans? ha ha! *a'woo!
              a'woo!                                    a­'woo!
a'woo!          a'woo!            a'woo! a'woo! a'woo!

mind you the sober wisdom of Alan Shearer
but that ******* chant man! coupling the missing
trill in the English R (how many gym sessions was that
to get the R to not trill? 2000 years and counting?
trickier than a French phlegm hark mind you)
and extending the E, well, the A isn't really necessary,
it's still reel...
*but who the hell decided what vowel goes where
and what vowel goes in anywhere given a change from
i - aye - and í - as in a punctured punctuation of
e    - prolonged -            and c            -
            a variant of        is              i.e.           ís
and not the German                   iß                    -
called a Kama Sutra of tonguing - slightly zeddy -
you really start to get polishing that mahogany table
for starters - no one gave me the rule books,
what's an offside, what's an penalty, etc. etc.,
i'm working at the scrapheap of language -
there was no congregation akin to the Diet of Worms
(ˈʁaɪçstaːk tsuː ˈvɔɐms) - try deciphering this
educated alphabet - upside-down Cyrillic for starters,
a bit of French, Greek iota, then circus without
a sheering process to add the -ta:k, and there too
a gamma is missing due to the softening into a kappa,
tsu;?                     huh?      why not              ßu?
to mind the Chiral (kye-rawl) nature of S and Z?
ich haben, ih blaben blabshen? *****-slap this to Jupiter,
i will... Tao no mayo in this ninja chow mein -
then it just, gets nuts! ɔɐ is what i've been discussing
about the umlaut - could have just written Wörms -
it's not straight arithmetic - it's that ɔɐ... thing...
like woad but more like woo'ed - you sort of have to
speak sideways - wo'o'erms - werms - or
so i thought.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2022
or how some h'american don't ever
say: Worcester sauce... or Lea... or Perrins...
or: who's?! woo-ster
sau-sausage... ******* whittle-****...
worse off than... worst-shire-in-the-pronunciation...
rubric... Worcestershire... which is: woo! woo!
woo-steer left! ah ha ha!
sort of a bit like a sot of a bit like:
Gloss... ter... tier? no... TER ******* TER...
gloss-over and a tear...
Gloucestershire! gloss-T: gloss-tear...
no: not tear: tier: no! not tier!
akin to per say: gloss-ter...
shire... **** tongue fiddly... almost French...
write one way... speak it another...
it's also woo: woo... ah woo! like a wolf: pseudo-bark...
ah-woo! woo... mister...
   prime minister...
      this language is a ******* jumble...
phonetically a Slav like me always finds it sort of
funny...
painfully...
             Woo! Woo-ster-sos: sauce... who the **** needs
these extra vowels? sos... no, not s.o.s.:
sos... why the ****... sauce?!
     where's the u the c and e?
the same retards that say: too many consonants
in the ****** writing...
same ones, i.e. same retards who can't spell
jack-**** in InG_LEASH...
                    sowwy... but your zunge has...
too many vowels jumbled up together...
you don't ******* write as you speak...
no... you don't...
       you write one way... speak another...
it's confusing this little ******* silly me...
   then again: there's no point...
most Anglophone speakers are retards to
begin with... teach them...
the complications of writing:
THOUGHT...
o.k. sure... F-O-U-T...
fout... or... FOWT... that's better... FOWT...
that's thought...
so... from FOWT...
T and H *******... U too...
  G is nowhere to be found... nor is the H...
wow! what a fascinating language...
i can... truly come in... and post-modernise it!
truly... i can come in and... rumble...
shake it a little... because...
like i've already noted...
anyone left-wing in the Anglophone world...
no... you're good...
i don't want to understand you...
i will not understand you...
     if i were to choose between **** Germany
and the Communism of the Russians...
6 years versus 45 years of a brain-drain?
guess... go on... give it a guess!
             Hugo Boss... GRAU WERHMACHT
Anzüge!
            oder... SCHWARTZ!
                 but it's so pleasingly
fiddly... this tongue... no diacritical markers...
hell... i can come in and take a ****
and also cite... those Pakistanis of Rotherham
having a stranglehold on...
whatever an English woman is, these days...
not much...
      because my impulses within the confines
of Darwinism have, been, insulted!
trans-gender *******...
but my frame i can't lie about...
but if i have to... that's an insult to merely seeing...
calling me ******* blind!
i don't like being insulted...
ridiculed...
   i don't like being challenged by retards...
you give me a capable opponent...
akin to a Kasparov... o.k.: you... reduce me...
to... being levelled to... orientating myself
around... a ******* euthanasia march of...
******* disease?
now i'm grinding my teeth...
i'm scheming...
   i don't like my intelligence to be insulted...
****** didn't like his creative talent
to be insulted, either...
i don't like being made to be:
accommodating... conscientious...
      bulls don't charge at seeing red...
they charge at seeing FUSCHIA...
bulls have UV vision... i'm seeing ******* FUSCHIA...
i'm grinding my teeth...
knives are testimony... but... they're...
sloppy...
   not enough space or numbers...
me? i'm tired...
   the mediocre idiots can smile, giggle... bless
their gentle... non-soul... body-tombs...
whatever... i've started building up
a... blutdurst! a blood thirst!
     it's: unbefriedigend unverzeihlich...
unforgivably unsatisfying!
   so much yuck... ugh... grunts and schemes of
averting pressuring an onomatopoeia...
such is the tongue...
no diacritical markers...
what's to be expexted?
the apostrophes... come: who's?!
with ' i.e. hide the i?
            *******... Velsh steward... sort... of... "guide"...
yeah... nice nice... corn needs to be clapped about;
while poetry needs to be written
by people at the end of their mortal tumult...
that's when you, ******* start!
that's when! safely guarded by...
not having to *******... drop dead
and ******* fail! that's when...
you start writing... "poetry"...
that's best! no no... that's the best time...
to... find relief in... scribbling *******'s worth
of rhymes... that's what you do... by then!
people have become...
so... *******... irrelevant...
spasmodic... queer... oddly...
almost... ******* on themselves...
   like... i'd like a conversation with a zombie...
or... a robot... but i'm getting... example X...
pseudo-humanoid itch... i'd rather speak with
a robot... or a zombie... but... you're giving me...
what?! this is, this is a... human?!
i'm joking, or are you, joking?!
        
    no, no! don't allow me to speak to a human
being... whatever the hell that means...
please! please! let me speak to a zombie!
or an oyster! or a robot! a.i. synthetic language
simulation: generator... "thing"...
people are too ******* ugly when...
no no... they just: "pretend" to be stupid...
they do... until...
they sense they can overpower the interaction...
oh... then they're ******* smart...
******* savvy..
        that's when i see:
    time to ****.
VD Lee  Feb 2017
Fiery Lady
VD Lee Feb 2017
Fiery
Lady
She is brighter than the sun
Hotter 'cause she knows what she wants
Don't need men to get things done
'Cause fiery ladies are savants.

Try to harass her
She'll spit back flame
Call her a slur
She'll leave you with shame

No one can invade her
Without being scorched
She will never deter
'Cause she's a

Fiery Lady (woo hoo)
Queen of the world
Gonna show it a thing or two
Fiery Lady (woo hoo)
With hair straight or curled
She knows there's nothin' she can't do

Fiery Lady (Fiery)
Fiery Lady (Lady)
Fiery Lady (Fiery)
Fiery lady (Lady)

Magazines tryin' to fool girls (fool girls),
Tellin' 'em to change who they are.
Songs tryin' to exploit girls (exploit girls)
Pitying them cause they think scars mar.

But wounds are tales
Of fiery ladies;
Their trials, their trails,
Tests from Hades
But ladies don't care,
They always dare,
And each one's a

Fiery Lady (woo hoo)
Queen of the World
Gonna show it a thing or two
Fiery Lady (woo hoo)
With hair straight or curled
She knows there's nothin' she can't do

Fiery Lady (Fiery)
Fiery Lady (Lady)
Fiery Lady (Fiery)
Fiery lady (Lady)

Woah-oh-oh

Fiery Lady (woo hoo)
Queen of the World
Gonna show it a thing or two
Fiery Lady (woo hoo)
With hair straight or curled
She knows there's nothin' she can't do

Fiery Lady (woo hoo)
Queen of the World
Gonna show it a thing or two
Fiery Lady (woo hoo)
With hair straight or curled
She knows there's nothin' she can't do

Fiery
Lady
Fiery
Lady
Tryst  May 2014
Wooing Poor Sue
Tryst May 2014
To wit to woo, or not to wit to woo,
Would wooing suit a suitor shy on wit?
Or would a witty suitor suit poor Sue,
For Sue aint one to want a witless twit!
If Sue is wooed by witty repartee,
Then Sue and suitor could be well suited,
But he who woo's poor Sue with lethargy,
Is like to like not how he gets booted!
So if you want to woo, and to woo Sue,
Then deign to don a suit and do your bit,
To shoot for Sue, your wit should shoot straight thru',
Or wooing Sue aint worth a sack of spit;
        Poor Sue just wants a witty suitor, see?
        So if your wit is wanting, leave her be!
Dost thou idly ask to hear
  At what gentle seasons
Nymphs relent, when lovers near
  Press the tenderest reasons?
Ah, they give their faith too oft
  To the careless wooer;
Maidens' hearts are always soft:
  Would that men's were truer!

Woo the fair one, when around
  Early birds are singing;
When, o'er all the fragrant ground.
  Early herbs are springing:
When the brookside, bank, and grove,
  All with blossoms laden,
Shine with beauty, breathe of love,--
  Woo the timid maiden.

Woo her when, with rosy blush,
  Summer eve is sinking;
When, on rills that softly gush,
  Stars are softly winking;
When, through boughs that knit the bower,
  Moonlight gleams are stealing;
Woo her, till the gentle hour
  Wake a gentler feeling.

Woo her, when autumnal dyes
  Tinge the woody mountain;
When the dropping foliage lies
  In the weedy fountain;
Let the scene, that tells how fast
  Youth is passing over,
Warn her, ere her bloom is past,
  To secure her lover.

Woo her, when the north winds call
  At the lattice nightly;
When, within the cheerful hall,
  Blaze the ****** brightly;
While the wintry tempest round
  Sweeps the landscape hoary,
Sweeter in her ear shall sound
  Love's delightful story.
Tommy Johnson  Dec 2013
RISE
Tommy Johnson Dec 2013
You can hear the voices of our peers being silenced, ignored, shunned and distorted.
Staggering out of their bedroom doorways to the street corner to score a dime bag.
Bright, insightful millennials freezing in search of warmth from something to believe in that will encourage them to look forward to see another day.
Where our economy has made financial prudence clear when talking about education, yet price tags of university tuition's skyrocket.
The refused, the ones with hope but no money or scholarships; tread the streets with the echoes of electro house pulsing in their skulls.
Those who strip themselves down and shred their own morals to scraps just to find themselves and to see their own limitations.
Searching for answers to the unknown, to ascertain what they are, who they are and why.
Timid in high school, pushed along with nothing and no one to put their creative vigor into.
The squeakiest wheels that were never even considered to be given a good greasing.
Faculties giving them lethargic hellos on the first day of school, bestowing celebrated goodbyes to them on graduation day, diplomas in hand.
Now are the ones slumped over in a lackadaisical position contemplating how they can afford an education.
They work eight to ten at seven twenty five an hour Monday to Friday; and weekends staying in as not to blow their earnings.
Those who commute to university and balance a job with it, I applaud you.
The bewilderment of adulthood, the overabundance of pressure and responsibility.
Awakened from nightmares of lost opportunities, missed trains and lost contacts.
To step out of bed and splash water onto a severely distressed face and staring into a mirror with a despairing look.
Then hoping a bus to Garfield to bring back weight for all the embryonic smokers not yet at the point of make or break, just save up enough to pave my own way.
Gazing at the town on a roof top, chugging down the tenth…no…twelfth beer of the night wondering how this all happened.
Wild sensations of kissing an attractive stranger, the rush of touching on things never felt, tasting pleasures only the lucky have known.
The passionate, yet dissolute yearning for that ever eluding ******* adrenaline. Pounding, Pounding, Pounding until the culmination of energy has come.
Flip sided to those dizzying, tear jerking thoughts of suicide, annihilation of ones being, the contradictions of their faith in themselves and the people around them.
Unexplainable waves of anxiety crashing onto the shore of a diminutive island of optimism
Striving to look past the panic, the gloominess and fury that may or may not be present. But to remain composed and press forward to what awaits them.
Coffee keeps them going. Cup after cup, late night cramming every bit they can; into their caffeine driven psyches until the indisputable crash and failure.
Packs and packs of menthol cigarettes to calm their rattling nerves but at the same time killing them slowly. Their lives will seem shorter than the time it took to finish one bogey when death is near.
Marijuana induced ventures to run down burger shacks, laughing hysterical in the car ride, eyes heavy with a most ridiculous elastic grin extending from ear to ear. While inside millions of thoughts and realizations of consciously simple speculations and troubles become clear and unproblematic. So the joy is mirrored outside in.
LSD trips in Petruska dancing and singing in the rain! Making music, making love; playing pretend and creating art. Becoming a family while kicking back under the warmth of an illuminated tree on a cool fall night.
MDMA streaming through the body, everything is as it should be
Beautiful, lovely to touch, wondrous to stroke, marvelous to move.
To contact and connect, converse and converge with the dwelling desire to share what you feel with everyone for it would be selfish and unpleasant to keep it in.
Mushrooms oh the emotional overflow I need not say more but ****.
Then there are over the counter candies, Oxycontin, ******, Adderall and Xanax, painkillers and antidepressants. Ups, downs, side ways and backwards.
Selling addiction and dependency legally to kids. Making heroine, ******* and speed easily obtainable to them. Changing the names and giving out prescriptions so the parents can feel like they're actually helping their children but are subconsciously making it easier on themselves because they cannot handle the way their offsprings actually are. Some parents a feel it is the only way, I wish it wasn't so. Becoming zombies, mindless addicts before they even start to mature into puberty. I've seen it, firsthand front row.
Oh, the monotonous, mundane rituals and agendas of our lives. School, work, sleep eat, the sluggish schedules and repetitions of yesterday's conversations and redundancy of itineraries we had plotted months prior.
Same people, the constant faces of boredom that groan in apathy and hold the fear of complacency.
We talk about how hum drum out lives have become and what we could to put some color in our world but don’t.
We speak of how unfair the system is but ultimately confuse ourselves and everyone else due to lack or organization and dedication so nothing is changed.
We speak of breath taking women we want to share ****** fantasies with but can’t even muster enough courage to send a trivial friend request.
Texting away for hours trying to court those who now occupy our minds and possess our hearts hoping they may allow us to acquire their attention and affection. Calling them only to receive futile dial tones and know we are being evaded.
Weeping on and on for seemingly endless time frames of a dilapidated relationship that was so strained that a miniscule breeze could cause it to collapse but still clinging to every memory as if they were vital hieroglyphics depicting your very essence.
Brilliant theories blurted out in a drunken stupor.
Ingenious hypothesis shrouded in marijuana smoked out room.
Remembrance of friends long gone.
The marines, the navy.
The casualties of drug addiction.
The conquerors or their afflictions.
The scholars.
The insane locked away on the flight deck never to be seen again.
Teenage mothers unsure of themselves, abandoned by their families for they believe that they brought fictional shame upon the family’s name. The fate of the child is unclear but the mother’s everlasting love shines through any obscurities in its way.
Dear mother of the new born winter’s moon may the aura of life protect you and your baby.
The father gone without a trace.
He will never know his daughter.
And it will haunt him forever.
Parents bringing up their kids with values and morals, The Holy Bible, mantras and meditation, the Holy Quran, The Bhagavad Gita, and Upanishads. Islamic anecdotes and Jewish parables.
The names all different
The message the same
The stories unlike
Goals equivalent
Faith
Kabala, Scientology and Wicca
Amish and Mormons
All separate paths that intertwine and runoff each other then pool into the plateau of eternal life.
But do we have faith in our country, our government?
They do not have faith in us. Cameras on every street corner, FBI agents stalking social media, recordings of our personal lives and police brutality. 4th amendment where have you gone?
We say farewell to Oresko the last veteran of the last great war. And revisit the Arab spring, Al-Assad’s soldiers opening fire on innocent protesters, one hundred fifteen thousand lay dead. Bin laden dead, Hussein hanged, Gaddafi receiving every ounce of his comeuppance. War, terrorism, the fear of being attacked or is it an excuse to secure our nation's investments across the sea? Throwing trillions of dollars to keep the ****** machine cranking away, taxes, pensions, credit scores, insurance and annuities all cogs in the convoluted contraptions plight.
My dear friend contemplates this every night laying in bed, fetal position; the anxiety if having to be a part of this.
Falling apart on the inside but on the outside, an Adonis, *******, Casanova wanna be. Who worshiped the almighty dollar, gripping it so tightly until it made change, drank until he had his fill falling face first into the snow. The guy who lead on legions of clueless girls wearing their hearts on their sleeves not knowing he had a girlfriend the entire time. Arranging secret meetings in hidden gardens, streaking into the early morning. Driving to Ewing in his yellow Mustang to woo a sado masochistic girl. The chains and whips do nothing to him he is already numbed by the thrill. Then he comes home, lays in bed until one, with no job and having people pay for his meals.
He knows what he does and who he is wrong. He recites and regurgitates excuses endlessly. He cries because he knows he is weak, he knows he must fix himself. I sit on the edge of myself with my fingers crossed hoping maybe, maybe he will set himself straight.
My chum who can talk his way out of any confrontation and into a woman’s *******. Multitudes of amorous affairs in backrooms, backseats, front rows of movies theaters. Selfish, boastful and ignorant, yet woman fling themselves at him like catapulted boulders over a medieval battle field just to say hello. These girls blind to see what going on, for their eyes were taken by low self esteem. A need to be accepted, to feel wanted even only for fifteen minutes. Poor self image, daddy issues, anorexic razor blade slicing sirens screaming on about counted calories and social status. Their uncontrollable mental breakdowns and emotional collapse. Their uncles who ***** them, their parents who split up and confusing their definition of love and loyalty for the rest of their lives. Broken homes, domestic abuse and raised voices, sending jolts of fright into the young girl’s fragile minds. I send my sorrows to you ladies, to see such beautiful creatures suffer then be used and thrown away with the ****** that was just ****** deep into their *****.
Then I see women and men of marvelous stature, romantic in the streets holding everyone and everything in high regards. Finding beauty in anything and anyone. Enjoying every second as if the rapture was over head eating exotic foods from unheard of countries and cultures. Bouncing to the sound of whimsical , reverb ricochets and sense stimulating music. Huffing inspiration to create something out of thin air. Dancing to retired jazz and swing albums as if no time had past since their conception. Wearing bold colors and patterns, thrifty leather shoes or suede.
Dawning pre-owned blazers because why spend hundreds of dollars on new clothes just to look good but feel uncomfortable with a hole in your pocket. Dressing up but dressing down, so class yet urban I love it, chinos, pea coats and flannels so simple but chic.
At night they go to underground dens, sweaty bodies, loud music and freedom. Expressive manifestations glowing fueled with MDMA and other substances to further their enjoyment of the dark glorious occasion. Kandi kids sporting colorful bracelets, not watches for time is of no concern to them, they have all eternity they know that.
Going to book stores, coffee shops just to have some peace of mind and a moment of silence to themselves so that can weave the tapestry of imaginative innovation. Writing their own versions of the same story, endless doors of perception, reading news papers and taking it with a grain of salt. Watching the news on TV with a hand full of salt. Searching for the real story so they can know if the world they all live in is actually safe.
She who made her own way breaking hearts, rolling blunts and making deals. The flower child of the modern age, left the rainy days in search of radiant sunshine, idealistic. Reality was subjective, purple dyed hair, multicolored sweater with sandals on her feet. A ten inch bowl with bud from California packed in tightly. Coming from Dumont to Bergenfeild then on to Philly to Mount Vernon. Off to Astoria and the Heights. Now to Sweden laying in the grassy plains below the mountains. Good for you my friend whom I have loved, may fortunes of unsullied joy come to you and all you meet.
Since you’ve left I have encountered drunken burly firemen just trying to have a good time. Pounding down Pabst Blue Ribbon as if it were water; as if it were good tasting beer. But heroes none the less.
EMT's, young eighteen years old high school graduates, saving lives reviving people who are a mere inch close to death.
Sport stars getting scholarships thanks to their superior skills and strength.
Striking beauty school students who are into making the people of this world a little bit more beautiful on the outside.
All these people, successful, doing things. Departing to their desired destinations. I see inside them, they carry baggage, loneliness and insecurities. I can feel their guilt slowing them down. All have their loads but it’s the way they carry them that shows who they really are. And to me their all gems.
Not far in Paterson I watch the junkies limping across busy winding street, perusing a severely needed fix. “Diesel!” they shout beneath flickering streetlights, asking for spare change and if bold enough a ride to some shady sketchy place. I give them a dollar and politely decline. They’ll die without it. Vomiting up bile and blood, twitches and shivers are all you feel when it’s not in you. They cannot stop, they need help. Why not help them instead of “assisting” those who are homosexual? Cleansing so they can be granted entry to the kingdom of God. Looking down on people who have found love and understanding and a deep attraction to others who just so happen to share alike genitals.
Narrow minded uproars about the spread of AIDS, nonsense! The puritanical onslaught of those who want nothing more than the rest of us, love. "Gay", "****", "******", "queer", how about "kind", "funny", "genuine human being"? The right to be married and divorced should be an option for everyone to enjoy. The strains and hardships of matrimony are yours if you want them. If you don’t agree don’t hate or harm just allow them to be peacefully. Same goes for anything for that matter, Jehovah's going door to door, Mormons from Burbank. New ideas are never a bad thing, they’re not a waste of time. On average you have about eighty years to mull over your options.
Some people don’t live long enough to do so, cancer is rampant, blood diseases, ****** diseases, natural disasters coming right out of left field and blindsiding the innocent bystanders of both hemispheres. Some go through life handicapped, autism is apparent these days. Schizophrenia, Asperburgers, ADD and ADHD. Some lose their golden memories of their many valuable years walking down Alzheimer's Lane, not being able to remember whatever transpired only a few moments ago but revisiting gold nuggets from from fifty-some-odd years ago with ease. Some go through life delusional or bipolar. Some can't even sleep at night but they still carry on. And if assistance is needed it is our job as a race to help our brothers and sisters, no one deserves to be excluded from the gala of life. Or be denied by society and pumped with brightly colored pills from doctors promising a cure but prescribing a crutch.
Finding solace in sincerity.
The serendipity of it all hasn’t been uncovered and that keeps me going.
“Radiate boundless love towards the entire world above, below and across. Unhindered without ill will without enmity.” Oh Buddha the truth as it ever was.
Who is he who keeps these thoughts from the conscious minds of the population?
Who is it that distracts us from the humbling beauty and overwhelming devastation of this place of existence we’re in?
It’s they who do under the table parlor trick behind our backs.
Those who broadcast mind numbing so called reality TV shows without an underlying value or meaning.
Those who produce music, proclaiming extravagance to be the end all be all gluttonous goal we all should aim to achieve.
And those who turn noble causes into money making scams and defile pure ideas.
And of course those who give false promises of easily obtained  bright futures, those who don’t care, those who steal, ****, curse, bad mouth and lie. But still manage to get elected into positions that more or less decide out fates. Monsters, demons, banshees howling inconsequential worries and leaving us deaf to hear the real issues.
The

— The End —