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STLR Nov 2016
it looks like the inside of my cortex

Loose screws with a loose table for my verbal contortions

A few books and spells surrounded by potions

Vertical blinds shut tight, the way they were forced in

Mattress on the floor
tucked on top of a box spring

Fornication smell, but no room for my offspring

I don't live alone, instead, I live with these objects

Mac 27 inch, I pad that's never dim...tech floods the room like CSI evidence

Solid speakers to echo feelings a resonance

Window closed, but when it's open the moonlight just settles in

This is my cave but, you can call it my residence.
when i lived with my ex..
CSI
A 911 call at a trap house.
A cop finds a dead dude with a broken face and a satchel of ****.
When his detective buddy says "ey whats the cause of death?"
He picks up the **** and goes "Blunt force trauma."
His partner looks at him like "srsly?"
He just laughs.
hahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha laughed sooooo hard when I wrote this.
I am a comedian or something?
J Nc Sep 2015
"You're not one of them", he says
"I can tell, I got this GIFT, see?"
The relief clear on his animated face
Too twitchy, too... off
"They watch us, you know?
They got those satellites and ****
They'll read your ID through your pocket
Then they gotcha!"
I nod, only mildly alarmed
And throw down my smoke.
Step on it to make sure it's out
"Only you can prevent forest fires"
A childhood echo
He picks it up
Looks wildly around
"Your DNA is on that! Epithelials!
I seen it! I seen it on that CSI!"
I mumble something
His eyes narrow. He laughs too hard.
"Kidding man, I'm just kidding"
He skitters off, like an ant missing 4 legs
I look up, and nod to the ****** on the roof.

~JNc
9-15
This was inspired by Stephen King's "Paranoid: A Chant", a short story/ poem in I think Skeleton Crew. One of my first two "grownup books", along with "Night Shift". My grandma and grandpa had given me a $10 Waldenbooks gift card, for my 10th birthday. I've now read almost everything he has written. Most of his works I've read multiple times. Blew my tender little mind, and I was free.
Aspen Apr 2015
i've been watching those crime
shows where they figure out
who killed who and i almost
related to them except i know
it's you who's killing me
Hayley Simpson Jan 2013
There is no shame, in moving back with your parents.

To them you still smell of diapers and the time you puked jelly beans all over the back of the car after you tilt-a-whirled your “I’m a big girl” attitude into giggles.

Around them you still clumsily tip over you own puberty when they ask you to clean your room.

You’re still in college. And that diploma on your wall is still less of an accomplishment, than when you suddenly discovered your thumbs.

So, how do you cope with the baby talk condescension scribbled over directions to empty a dishwasher properly?

1) Realize this is just temporary. You have till you’re at least 40 to fix this.

2) Clean your room of all the embarrassing childish evidence (i.e. N’Synch Posters, Pokemon Cards, Ect) . When CSI comes in they will just assume you were visiting.

3) Take long, long walks far, far away from your residence. Preferably the woods, so you may not run into any high school nemeses.

4) Pray you can get laid by someone, your age. Preferably someone you have not had any prepubescent encounters with already.

5) Eat all the free food you can.

With theses steps you can safely avoid pulling out your own fingernails with the self-loathing hiding under your bed.

Do not let it fill your Pog champion hands with delusions that you have failed to tie your own shoes, let alone pay your own taxes or get married.

Might as well give up those big girl pants and open lid cups and go back to Sesame Street and ******* in your own pants.

This…

Is only temporary.

You must say.

A temporary walk through the woods. Praying to lay down relax, and enjoy the air you are still eating.

This is only temporary.
Written (2013)
David Nelson Nov 2013
Philosofication

Personally, I’m not ******. Somebody I know is. He is so upset over something he had no control over that the rest of his day is “Absolute ****!”. His words, not mine. In fact, this all started in the morning when he tripped on a rock. It was then that he decided the whole day is ruined.

I really don’t have a clue how somebody can get that angry over stupid ****. How can a whole day be ruined by one silly little incident? That was less than 20 seconds out of the 86,400 seconds in the complete day. How does that ruin the entire rest of the day? The only explanation I can come up with is that these people have a case of stickuptheassititus.

That is a word. Trust me.

The people suffering from this believe that one little incident will have a profound effect on the rest of their existence. Tripping over a rock means that there is no longer a reason to be happy. In fact, any bad thing that happens leads to more bad things. Even if they have to go searching for it.

In recent studies that were never published because I just made them up, people with severe cases of stickuptheassititus have been known to rip heads off of kittens that aren’t cute enough. If their daily routines is interrupted, they will blow a proverbial gasket. It will be their main concern to make sure their whole day, and the day of those around them, is complete and utter ****.
In a recent survey that never happened, 3 out of 10 people firmly believed the Universe was out to get them because a bird took a healthy crap on their windshield. 2 out of those 10 have been miserable since ’76 because they didn’t get the 13″ Six Million Dollar Man action figure dressed in a red NASA style jumpsuit and came equipped with a Bionic Arm, a Bionic Left Eye with a wide angle lens and an Engine Block for Christmas.
Seriously folks, I don’t see the point of being miserable and ******* over things that are completely out of your control. If you trip over a rock, watch where you step. Get over it. **** it up like a big boy and move on. The Universe did not put that rock there to get you. It is not a grand conspiracy to make you have a bad day. Just because one tiny insignificant incident happens, does not mean everybody is out to get you.
Let me put this into perspective for you.
NOTE: Those with tiny brains should stop reading in fear that your head will explode and the person sitting next to you will have to clean it up before somebody sees your exploded head and accuses them of ******. Save them the headache of having to go on trial for a crime they may have wanted to commit but didn’t actually do.

Back to the perspective thing.

You are nothing more than a speck in the Universe. You are not part of the grand scheme of things. Your short life on this tiny, blue green rock is not going to make a difference to anybody who does not know you. Not even to a few that do. I don’t know. I try not to judge. Often.
This rock is over a couple million years old. It has seen it’s share of creatures come and go. Once you are gone, it will just move on. This little rock is also floating somewhere in this vast Universe that stretches farther than your eyes can see. If you were to stand in front of a map of the Universe, You wouldn’t even be able to see the teeny, tiny little arrow that says “You Are Here.”
That being said, You were not singled out of the multitude of organisms is this Universe to be picked on. Sometimes, **** just happens. To think that You are special enough to have the whole Universe stop what it is doing just to **** with you is beyond ridiculous and kind of insulting. It’s not like your Me or anything.

Time to Philosoficate

In the evidence that even the great and powerful ME is also a speck on the pimple of the Universe’s ***, I feel it is time to reflect on the way things could be. My view is a simple one, don’t spend what little time you have wasting it away in a pissy, little ***** mood.

Me personally, I don’t like being angry or in a bad mood. I would prefer to be happy.
There are rare moments when I get so angry I lose sight of the big picture. Moments when I just spent two hours creating the best design ever and Illustrator crashes so I lose everything. I don’t get ****** at the program for crashing. It doesn’t have an emotional reason for causing me grief. I get mad because I was the complete idiot that didn’t save his work for two hours. I get ****** at myself.
Besides that, the only other reason I would get angry is if somebody purposely caused harm to my family. Thank the Universe that hasn’t happened yet. I don’t have the time to torture somebody yet so I’ll just end up locking them in a crate and then forget about them like I did my pet turtle Mr. Shell. Then I would have to make the time to dig a grave or burn the crate which would stink up the neighborhood. Either way, CSI people would be involved and then I would have to take the extra time to find the best person to frame for the crime.
I didn’t even get ****** when I failed miserably trying to walk to Phoenix. Disappointed, Yes. ******, No. Still think it would be an awesome idea but I will not be doing it.
Anyways, for those of you who actually get it, good for you. For those that are inflicted with it, most of you are hopeless causes and will eventually whither away. The Universe will still keep rolling along. Take a brief moment on this journey of life and take that stick out of your ***. Walk over, smell the flowers and resist your urge to ***** about them. Life gets a **** load better when you’re not always worked up over the tiny details.

* By Scott Linke *

Gomer LePoet....
I found this editorial while searching for time travel/distances to deepest observable universe, and I thought it worth a look.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE
Curt A Rivard Sr Nov 2012
Hold hands and march behind me, buckel up this is a new horror,
A living nightmare unlike anything you have ever seen
Looking at your hollowed out corpse over for the very first time
I saw parts Jeffery only wished while committing his crime.
I'm the piper tricking you along the way; I got you in my trap
And there’s now no escape from my funeral pallor.
Quincy, CSI Miami and even Dr. G,
Could have never prepared me with only what they show on TV.
Downed played and minimalized to the max,
Read my works I'll paint for you all the true facts.
First things first I need for you to stop staring at me
With eye caps and a quick squirt of glue I broke the trance
Good, now I can begin the process and start this slow dance.
Like always I shake their hand and tell them my name
This time was different I got my first squeeze back
For on your right forearm was stained in ink
The first two verses of Psalms one hundred and forty four
After I finished reading I had to get back on track
With an instant snip a stitch is then cut apart
Adding another three ***** to your collection
Pulling them apart I go in first reaching for the clear viscera bag
Holding it up I fondled it all around in the bright light
Looking for the brain I felt it and then saw it come into my sight
Laying out all the puzzle pieces I start with the center first.
So smooth and slick the inside walls of your cage
Everywhere else looked like a time bomb burst.
Feeling all about searching for your iliac artery
Once found you’re now connected to the vat
Using sufficient pressure filling your tissues to full capacity
Injecting first your lower extremities I now see the veins swell
After a six point fill you should look like you’re getting well.
From under the flap and at the root of your neck
I reached in your head and into the hollow space
Because it is now time to try and firm up your mortal face.
With a pair of clamps I kinked your spinal cords fountain flow
Massaging your headless face and then the head *****
All the fluid went right where it had to go
After the fill you looked like you had a new mothers glow.
Now the suction of the liquid residue that smelled fowl
Then came the pressing of a paper towel
Very pleasant smell of wintergreen candy in my nose cause the
Shaking of the can of Bex embalming powder was now to follow.
Pressing here, pressing there, trust it was becoming a pest
Trying to tuck the bag with all your innards back into your chest
Putting the sternum back on top proved it was a perfect cut.
Folding down the three ***** to the point of origin
Was like folding a piece of paper into a paper airplane.
Almost at the home stretch we took turns closing you
And with it a perfect baseball stich and with it a coat of sealer.
Trying hard to keep a secret from for your heads crown
There is no way to do it I can't play it down
Holding the pieces of your skull in my hands
Starring where it has to go back now and back together with no glands
Looking just like what is, "Sweeter than honey and stronger than a lion?"
Me and my youngest son solved Samson's riddle in the Bible,
A seven letter word now needs to be added into the book of Judges because
Together we saw the answer written from a vision in the deserts sand.
Pulling down your face and all the way down to your chin
I lost sight of your eyes I only can see their other side
I now see a notch and the groove where this piece has to go
Gluing it in place I gave back to you your forehead
Tucking and packing cotton towels is your makeshift brain now
With a round file I score four half-moons in the thin bone
So the skull clamps can hold it together and hold it in place forever.
Pulling and stretching your face it was sewed together and with no space.
Now that it's complete you’re ready for a military examination
After getting the green light it's time for the fitting of your uniform
in your aurora steel casket you played in there
looking like the sailor on a ******* jack box.
one last trick to go; have to pull fibers out from the bottom
so your weightless head will look and sink naturally into your pillow.
out the back of a coach with plates that say livery
and into the belly of a plane your shipping container was stamped
Special Delivery.....

(CARSr. 10-24-12)
Alexa Sz Jan 2011
Morning

the alarm goes off
I wake up
I turn it off
I go back to sleep
My mom or dad comes in
they wake me back up
I lie in bed
for 10 more minutes
then I get up
I go to the bathroom
and stare at myself in the mirror
I sigh...
I pretend to wash my face
I go back to my room
I stare at my closet
and decide what I'm going to wear
I get dressed
I go down stairs
I eat one of the following items:
oat meal
   -Chocolate chip
   -Maple brown sugar
   -apple cinnamon
Whole wheat bagel with almond butter, peanut butter, cinnamon, and/or jam
cereal if there are any good options
   -Peanut butter bumpers
   -GOOD granola
   -organic chocolate *****
with coconut milk
toast with the same things as bagels
I say good morning to parents
I argue with my sister
I drink my orange juice
eat my vitamins
bring my stuff up to the sink
go up stairs
I lie on my bed
I go into the bathroom
I brush my teeth
I go downstairs
I pack my backpack
I pick out some shoes
I yawn
I go to school

School
I go to advisory
We play cake(a game)
First class
I space out
I draw pictures
unless that class is of the following:
PE
Writing lab (if it's not about grammer or spelling)
Art
Music(Because all the string instruments make it impossible)
I go to math
I get too confused to know what the hell is going on
I go to writing lab
we write and then teacher goes into some speech about commas
I go to french
I have no idea what the teachers talking about
I go to PE
If we aren't playing soccer, basketball, dodgeball, batmitten, capture the flag, or volleyball than I ****

Lunch
Yay!
I eat
I talk
I chill

More classes
Art
I tell my teacher how much I love her outfit
I read the board
and I make art

Music
UGHHHH
THE TEACHER IS SUCH A GRUMP!!!
I listen to her yell at people
I play my instrument

Study

Almost done with school
I finish a bit of homework

Going home (Or going nordic skiing)

I get a snack
I do homework
I have dinner with the family
I do more homework
I get ready for bed
I read
I go to bed

Every day is the same
the weekend is just a bunch of chores
hanging with friends some times
and stay up late watching my favorite shows:
Bones
Glee
CSI NY
CONAN
SNL

Ugh I need a change.
Dondaycee Nov 2018
You love hearing.
You love seeing.
You love smelling.
You love feeling.
You even love the taste of life,
Bold statements arise: pentagon built pyramids; hexagram built light…

I’m speaking subtlety’s; the space between five and six,
Like that star David from CSI;
Eleven mirror, twelve depicts,

If they’re in prison, it was because of common sense,
If you’re successful, universe says you were dependent on the sixth…

We’ll acknowledge foundations as Gravity, Although they reflect;
Time as tragedy,
Too low to connect;
Space to one; a division within;
I’m thinking maybe this trinity could project a web,

Gravity is the outcome of manifestations existing;
Creativity transmuting energy that’s coexisting in a space in which polarities consisting,
Space is the frame that’s assisting;
A geometrical web full of light that infinitely splits simultaneously while it’s energy is shifting,
Time is the perception of distance between manifestations, it’s the same as predicting,
It doesn’t exist until it exists,
That’s a matter of apathetic wishing,

“He’s an oxymoron…”

We fear the unusual,
But we can’t possibly be normal,
That’s actually abnormal,
When we conform to others idealism, our realities become harmful,

Earlier I advocated that space is full,
If you’re pushing space in your own gravity, displacement will leave your mind full; time-poor,

Love yourself, because you love your five senses,
No need for senseless for it is why we sense-less before more,
That doesn’t mean closed door,
It means your time is poor;
How can you be of wealth if you’re missing idealism,
In such a situation you’re obligated to war;
Be informed, be young, belong life,
Disconform, keep ***** on your side,
Obliterate, reiterate, polarize,

You must know thyself before you know the sky.
Eshan Bhatt Jun 2016
Ah, yes the sound of laughter
4 friends in a car going to a movie
Summer is here, couldn't be happier
But they will never get there

A girl turns the music up
Yelling and screaming in the rear
The others all texting each other
Even the one required to steer

It's a classic example of a mistake
Lack of attention by the driver in front
Music so loud it could **** the ears
The next scene will look like a stunt

One vehicle crashes into another
Collisions everywhere in the field
The cars with their front ends inward
Wounds that cannot be healed

The police come by for a look
CSI enter to examine the scene
"If they had worn their seatbelts...
...they would've come out clean."

They find the source of the crash
It was still in her cold, limp hand
"I can't believe this still happens."
"I don't understand how it can."

"We make sure they learn in school,
how dangerous these things are"
"Irresponsibility has consequences,
especially when you are in a car"

The lead squad car gets a call
"Head on crash near exit 10"
The CSI ask what transpired
"4 friends. 2 cars. It happened again."
By Eshan Bhatt
Chimera melons Mar 2010
Suicide me again oh love
it hurts to be overwhelmed with your humiliating zealous lust
my genitals nimbus like a glowing golden peach
so ripe corruption is shadowing hungrily
At church I forget I am an animal
slowly poisoned by communion , candles , brochures , verses ,
beautiful music of the spheres exalts all singers absolved
Purity lends me a shackle and a guiltless time on my knees

**** this pain these senses
basic needs met and yet i fret
particulars stick in my eye
I can't see how horrible i am
when i watch csi
my dna can betray me with babies and jail time
God please bless the homeless and starving far far away
while i am starving for pleasure as my overfed ego takes the last
bite of icecream eaten to avoid feeling alone
I hate this commericial
all rights preserved
Kelly O'Connor Jan 2014
An ant on the edge of a glass clings with microscopic acrobatics,
A thematic blood-curdling scream breaks my concentration. A dream’s
Manifestation, a masturbatory second-glance, a fiftieth
Chance exhaled out a window, instead of words. I heard
Every one of yours, believe me.
Let me retrieve my dignity, your amnesia only temporary
And your memory selective, my detective skills more useful
For playing CSI in the mornings. The bruises are telling,
The losers uncertain, the wine stains on the curtain
Permanent, the bloodstains invisible, the headache miserable,
The reasons obvious. Be more devious, and less serious.
The lipstick marks I leave on your blanket make it
Impossible to forsake it, but better to forget it, forget the words --
“That jacket would look better on you with some bullet holes.”
*******, let me explain:
I don’t want you feeling pain, don’t want you driving home drunk,
I didn’t want you to get into this funk, can’t keep
Protecting you from the truth, I hoped my honesty
Might help you see a little, even help you sleep.
Keep your assessments quiet till noon, adjust your feelers,
Sniff the air, there, there, little ant, it’ll all be over soon.
Abby Carruth Apr 2011
I am the last minute suitcase shoved full girl
I am the up for anything girl
Most importantly, I am the girl you hurt.
Now my heart is tearing in half like Jesus' bread at the last supper
and there are a thousand conversations going on saying things like,                                      "I can't believe she hasn't completely broken down yet, I would."
But I don't want you back because you left me bruised and broken
But I don't want you to be anyone else's
You never liked the idea of calling each other baby, “it was too possessive” you said
But at this point, every ounce of me is aching to hear you whisper, "I love you."
You were always so shy and I was always the social one
My heart has never felt fuller than when we were us
When I was yours, you were mine, we were us, and us was ours.
I hope you're happy, I really do. I hope your heart is still 60% in love with swimming, and 40% your mom's, because we all know there is no other man that can light up her world quite like you.
I hope you have fun in college, I hope you wake up not regretting anything. I hope breathing, getting out of bed, smiling and laughing is coming a lot easier for you than for me.
I remember the day you walked into my life, you were at swim practice. And so was I.
I don't say we or us anymore because it would force me to become a witness to my own emotions.
Hating you hurts me so much, but talking to you is like talking to the barrel of a loaded gun.
I've had glazed over eyes while looking all around me
Looking for any sort of trace of you,
It's like I am a CSI looking for a killer. I always hoped you would never be that killer but I have been proven wrong so many times I can't turn right any more. Only Left.
You: right-handed, tall, blonde hair, blue-eyed would have been saved by ******; I wouldn't have been so lucky. We used to joke about that.
Maybe I need you, or maybe I just think I do.
This is me dancing across the ocean of my emotions;
This is me dancing in front of you to a broken-hearted love song trying to remind you that I am here.
If I could write you a letter, it would say this:
Dear Love, I am yours, Love, Me.
Jeremy Betts Jun 2023
Forget it...and forget you for even trying to think you could out run it. You can't handle this shiit nor can you hide from it, should probably quit or at least tone it down a bit, it's starting to get a bit pathetic.
It's already got you, it owns you, I told you. If you are hearing this then it's too late, there's nothing you can do. Sorry not sorry, can't say I didn't warn you. It don't matter if you believe it or not to be true.
It doesn't need you to accept it or to co-sign, it'll provide proof of what it can do in it's own time, in a lone rhyme that sends chills through your bones, directly down your yellow spine
Fuuck, they like to say they're just words but are they? These are like sticks and stones that break bones in a unique way, blacking out your heart and steal your soul away and it starts today...

...with me sitting here writing fear like a smear campaign, an assault on your ear that's so sincere, so severe that it'll appear to adhere to all you hold dear like an unwanted souvenir, make it real as the blood that'll smear from the front to the rear of my Chevy Cavalier from the people who use to be here but were met with the same fate as a lost deer wondering in the freeway just north of here. I know you can hear but have I done enough to make myself perfectly clear?

To make it known that I'm not one you want to mess with unless you've got a death wish, if you want to rot on your own cot in your own personal grave plot I've got the perfect spot to lay you down, plant you in you're own ceramic flower ***, but then I thought I oughta bought a big enough plot of land to lay down all who fall from this onslaught, a verbal Juggernaut but you can still come at me and take a shot if you want

And if you do, if that's the case then by all means, name the time and place cause I prefer face to face, I have this twisted trait that allows me to demonstrate how to create a ****** case, how to keep pace and champion a death race, how to get CSI looking at a piece of cheese on the end of a string i placed under a milk crate after a wild goose chase, not a trace of evidence just a message on the back of a bookcase to further the foot race, so check your shoe lace, you don't want to trip up and fall on your face while running from a phrase like trying to escape your goth days, a ridiculous phase

I lay it out plain and simple, just one well placed word or thought out syllable that will cause a tsunami title wave ripple that'll ******* any defence like Clearasil on a pimple, not a complicated riddle unless you're the monkey in the middle. It'll sit a little easier if we can keep it civil after the acquittal, critical thinking will get you through the hassle, to the end of the castle to save the princess but that's not the end of the battle, the system we're in is not a Nintendo, no Atari with a wired joystick paddle, these words are the detergent just added, nowhere near the rinse cycle, one wrong move could be fatal, if you think this a fable you could be one of the ones to wined up on an autopsy table

But it's damage to your psyche not your body that brought you to one knee, words they said couldn't harm obviously do have that ability, I grip that knowledge firmly, hold on tightly like it's a master key, the bounty is set and out, don't try to flee, got your mind hazy, to foggy to see, no friendly face here, no card to get out of jail free, these words that flow so easy from me hold you in captivity and break you down slowly, fully emersed, wrapped in perverse words like a mummy, held captive in this verse like a dummy, a cursed hostage with no request for no money, no escape once I've got thee and test out my theory that clearly I can do just as much damage with word trickery as one could do with assault and battery or a quick slice of a main vain artery but with no evidence visually I get away scott-free

So listen with caution, this cautionary tale is not spun to further the friction, there's not a fraction of this that's fiction, it's just that I can't stop what's already begun, what's done is done, I've won, your defenses are broken, the threat was one not as obvious as a gun so you thought it innocent fun but the jokes on you son, as soon as you read the caption it was straight to the coffin, my words just happen to often be a little somethin' like Jason, Mr Voorhees on a couple ****** sprees, tape shows once the chasings begun it would do no good to run, a fusion of life and illusion to cause mass confusion and frighten to the point you die of a brain contusion, written in a way that there's no coming back from, fallen from grace, in continuous motion as you fall through the bottom of your rock bottom, a deep chasm, a dark ocean, it's going to be grousome but by that point I'm on to the next one cause I know the outcome, you were ****** from before you could even apply caution,  before you realized you should use a life line to call someone, its already become something that could never be undone, don't look for a cure cause I can assure there ain't none. There's no fun in the remedy so I take action to make sure there ain't one

©2023
Santiago Mar 2015
They don't care about us
They're only laughing at us
The police is a undercover gang
3 letter abbreviation is there slang
CIA ATF CBS NBC FOX FBI CSI LAP
Deparments only mentioned a few
Only to *****, me and you, lil fool!
Go to school, your brain's the tool
Make us feel less, reality we are the best
Give us chump change, isn't it strange
We have enough just to survive
Mercedes-Benz, Bentlys what they drive
Fighting one another, my brother
Understand this the plan, klu klux ****
Holding us down, to the filthy ground
They laugh, joke, make fun of us
Like woosies scatter when I bust em up
Straight hit em up, wet em up,
Straighten them up, that's what's up

I speak for thee oppressed in stress
I speak for the lost, and forgotten
I speak for the hungry, corpse rotten
I speak for the voiceless, & hopeless
I speak for the poor who strive for more
I speak for the child digging for cans
I speak for the homeless, undressed

I am the one, who will be given the power to execute, destroy, eliminate any oppressive force, standing in humanity's way!
Maria Dec 2012
I don't like it when your late

The fog is getting thicker by the second

And I need to stop watching CSI so late at night

I don't like it when your  late
Don't we all hate that empty seat feeling?
If only they'd videoed the nativity
that'd be proof
that Christianity was based
on a real life case

but
it's a bit like that programme
CSI
you're left wondering why
'til the very end and then
the battery would go.

Only a video
could show the truth
it's a shame
the birth of Christ came
too early for that.
Mouth Piece Feb 2014
The average person sleeps 1/3 of their life!!! So by the time you hit the age of 30 you would have already been asleep for a DECADE! That would make a 30 year old only 20 years young in awake years! Haven’t you realized , as we get older that the time starts flying more and more?!! Here is a list of averages that shows where the majority of people spend their time .

1. Eating--- 32,098 hours translates to 3.5 years of our lives spent going “yummy yummy yummy”
2. Driving---The average person spends 37,935 hours behind the wheel. That’s 4 years! Depending on the commute and of course city driving good luck.
3. TV---The average American watches 2.8 hours (quite conservative I’d say) of Television each day equaling over 85,000 hours which equals 9 years of a person’s life!! ( not to mention video games)
4. Working---from age 20-65 a person with 2 weeks vacation per year will average 90,360 hours----10years of the 9-5!
5. The internet----28,300 hours surfing the net (that number will rise)----equaling 3.2 years of life! That’s a lot of Facebook updating and youtube videos!
6. On average a women takes 40 minutes to get ready to go to work/going out---30,000 hours adds to 3 years of life. LOL get in the car already!

Did you know it has been widely studied that it takes approximately 10,000 hours to be an expert in something? Imagine if we didn’t have to sleep 1/3 of our lives. Over the course of a 75 year life we would have roughly 219,000 extra hours at our disposal! Enough to be an expert in 22 different fields!! Well not sleeping is obviously ridiculous because we know everyone needs his or her beauty rest and eating of course is a must. But what about the rest of our time? TV is cool don’t get me wrong but to give a decade of my life to watching “CSI and dancing with the stars!” I mean I’m already giving up 1/3 of my life to sleep. How about work? Do you love your job? Does it just pay the bills or maintain your level of luxury? Do you really want to spend another 10 years just paying bills or acquiring materials in between sleep? How much time do we spend angry, jealous, getting drunk, or gossiping? Really here is the big question, how much time do we spend caring about what others think of us? Women I hate that our culture makes you feel that you have to look like a god. You are beautiful just how God made you and your heart is what a man should spend time on. Life is short. What are your dreams and gifts? How can you use them to bless the world? Where do you spend your time and how can you spend it wiser? All glory an honor to my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. He died for you to give you time to know Him for an eternity. Jesus teach me to spend my life and time wisely so I may Love as You have Loved me.
Daniel Regan Apr 2014
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aaabbbcccdddeeevery word, thought, feeling made simple by those and that which create it fffggghhhow am I suppose to find the bigger picture in this world of I SPY, CSI, and magnified screens, text, and images iiijjjkkklllet me suppose we do it without conscious regard for the bigger picture, but I cannot believe that when we scrutinize each other to the point of minimizing each other’s soul, purpose, and individuality mmmnnnooopppqqquite the notion when you examine the world around us and its ever outward expansion by mans technology, freethinking mind, and unquenchable reach rrrssstttuuuvvvery ironic as I focus on the letters that give me inspiration yet cling to the words that give voice to my every fleeting thought wwwxxxyyyzzzero chance that my message finds a bigger paper, forum, or world for the letters that make them up do not scream loud enough for the worlds magnifying glass to hear zzzyyyxxxwwwith ever black to white click of thought it becomes analyzed by the grammatically correct, socially adept, and economically sept vvvuuutttsssrrreveling itself in form, purpose, and motivation as my numbers climb with the amount of eyes that these words find qqqpppooonnnmmmy own ego lost in a numbers game and battle of the words, played against my own self doubt and an ever changing world lllkkkjjjiiilluminated by an audience whose thoughts are much like my own, who play under the same lights and are surrounded by the same dome hhhgggffforever screaming in black and white as the world spins in color, reveled in pictures but structured in letters and numbers eeedddcccbbbaaalone we must all feel as we stare at the big picture and the underlining letters, while our life moves beyond the sight of our glass
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Jack Ritter Jun 2018
Last night I didn't have the backbone
to turn the flat screen off.

The lump in my throat is wimpy.

Act I - Morning Regret.
I am attacked by regret for things
I can't remember.

She helped me with these states of mind
all that summer.
Then she walked out.
That part I remember.

I can't take much more of my eyes.
They're like the button eyes of a doll,
pre-drilled watch pocket spares,
back-breakingly vague and see-through.

I just finished my latest
first half of a self help book.
It promised I could be free
if I were willing to work the 19 steps.

You know the town is dead
when doll eyes go unnoticed.

Act II - Afternoon Regret.
I miss her so much, I could -
I definitely could -
I forget what.

Definition of "depression:"
That familiar, back-of-the-skull,
chock-full-of-neck-muscles all screaming :
"We've got to get out of here-
It's this town, this century, this jacket"
feeling.

That summer I needed to believe
that we were jointly crazy.
Now I can't recall what she had.

I told her about my obsession
with that stiff knot of muscle
between the shoulders of a bull.
The choice cut that the picadors go for.

She said,
"Maybe you're not as depressed as you think.
Maybe you just have bull shoulders."

Our friends called me "bull shoulders" all summer.
It was so funny!
Actually, they were her friends.

Now I watch CSI,
with such precision eyes,
wasted on all that flatness.

Act III - Family input, and take-away.

Sibling Chorus:
"We're such a loving family,
yet you didn't call Mother AGAIN.
So how's the shoulder bull thing going?"

Me:
"Bull shoulders.
And we said we weren't gonna talk about it."

Sibling Chorus:
"Ok, so did you get the book we sent:
Beat Depression in Minutes while you Sleep?"

Me:
"She PROMISED she was crazy."
I've worked on this one many many hours, over many years.
Where are those cemeteries filled with centurions?
where are the legions we lost?

Only in America?

If we found them today
CSI would be all over it
they'd spirit them away
and put them on display
at the Smithsonian

Good luck is what I say
from the Egyptian rooms
at the
British Museum

Then they'll charge all the people
a dollar and a half just to see 'em
or was that for a big yellow taxi ride?

If you know you know and if you don't
know you're none the wiser
Marina Valere Jul 2015
TO THE GUY IN THE BACK OF THE ROOM COMPLAINING
ABOUT LISTENING TO ANOTHER **** POEM

When people ask me why
It took years of writing poems
to write this poem
the "**** poem"
I will tell them all about you.

How you watch this stage
the same way you watch CSI,

you already know what's coming next,
it's just another mangled body,
I am just another hit and run,
so you take this time to get another drink,

i'll tell them
how every story sounds the same
when you stop listening,

i'll tell them how nice it must be
to be able to walk away, and
i'll tell them
how there's a voice in the back of my head
that sounds an awful lot like yours saying,

this is just another **** poem

just another little-girl-lost poem.
just another do-not-touch-me-until-i-ask you-to touch me poem.

just another seven-years-old,
sleeping with a Thinkerbell wand on my nightstand
and a kitchen knife underneath my pillow
because i swore the next time he came in my bedroom uninvited
he would come out bleeding
poem;
and I get it.

I know that you are tired of hearing **** poems.
I am tired of hearing **** poems,
the same way soldiers are tired of hearing they own guns go off,
believe me,
we all wish the war was over,
you are staring out at a world on fire
complaining about how ugly you think the ashes are,

The poems are not the problem...
couldn't have write the rest
Lydia Nov 2017
I ran a couple feet behind her
I saw straight through her ponytail
On the other side, I saw curled hair and a ball gown
She wore flowers in it when she wasn't in gym class
I think it's strange that that was exciting
I'm supposed to like monster trucks and dirt
Dirt looked clean on her
I saw her walking her dog with no shoes on
I saw her twirling her baton in her driveway in a rainstorm

She lives on a busy road
Her sister just left home to become a lawyer
I know that she wants to leave, too
I saw her in the guidance office with packets from schools down south
And she's smart, too. She could be a doctor some day.
She's careful in the lab, and thorough, and-
I'm babbling

I sent her flowers with a Hozier lyric on the note
We met up to watch CSI
She was so human
Smiling as she puzzled at the killer
Pointing at the screen
I stayed to watch Jeopardy
She would have won if she had been on the show
She was the reality of the situation
She was genuine

She caught up to me and held my hand in the hall yesterday
I'm afraid to get attached to a dandelion
She's going to blow away someday
But I don't mind being her stem
Maybe I can weigh her down for awhile
Help her cope with being stationary
Please comment :)
Brittney T Feb 2018
When I was 16 I ran from more monsters than I ever did when I was young. Well..younger. At 16 years old I was still a child.

At 8 years old I loved ghost stories. Mysteries. ****** doo, goosebumps. I was sure I was going to be a forensic scientist just like I saw on CSI.

At 16 I was taught to see shadows on the faces of strangers. Danger flickered behind the eyes of the people I knew I could trust. That I knew I should trust.

Staying in bed never helped, but some days it was all I could do. Nightmares entered every hour of my restless sleep. No episode of NCIS could stir up as much fear as a face I've tried to forget.

At 20 years old I'm still afraid. Silently and with a smile. A similar face or frame reminds me of the blur of memories that took a brave little girl and forced her to be a terrified woman.
An old one I wrote in 2016.
oculus per oculus -
    an eye for an eye...

it was my first time seeing an eye
doctor - only yesterday:

oculist - not occultist -
coo coo
should i change my favourites
from crows to pigeons?

change my scouts
to messengers?

once upon a time we would
sail across the horizon of
where the seas would
merge with skies
with at least two crows

to scout for dry land...
the boundaries thus established
between seas and lands
there is an earnest need
to levy
a rest for horses and for crows
and invest in the theology
of:

replacing Huginn and Muninn
with Fantasiss
     og
               Havhimmel -

never mind...
the Hebrews are as guilty of trivialising
knowledge as the gentiles
and their astrology bull.... ****...

the Hebrews and their gematria
the gentiles and their astrology -
same ****, different cover...
to allude to A = 1
to suggest that words can be influenced
by a meaning in number
is a blasphemy against
the dictum primo (first saying)

initio erat verbum
et verbum fuit *** deus...

in the beginning there was the word...
so much for the fall of man
as the fall of word
into the lasp, grasp and grub of man's
intestines kidneys
brain and a grieving soul (search)

almost simultaneously:
the fall of word and of god
and the rise of man
and the subsequent acquisition of words
as communication as that equivalence
to the harnessing of fire
gifted to us by Prometheus...

words and fire met somewhere
in a non-dialectical exchange:
for this is needed, and was...

funniest football hooligan chants
i ever heard came from Millwall -
or the London Scoots - Scots, dockers,
who call West Ham (Cockneys)
pikeys...
and call the north London Jewry
penny knackers, pinchers, nibblers...
4 x 2s...
             ha ah ha... tenet (almost)

                               aha!

the most marvelous time... against QPR...
two weeks ago...

also recently: a burglary...
had a PTSD episode last night where i made
my mark on the night air with my breath:
as you can imagine
my mother was woken
as i grieved a lost privacy a safe haven
of my garden...
with a prophetic armistice and fury
i tried to ensure that the burglar might
hear me in his sleep...

nein! nein! nein! du klein sheiß!

oh that it is one of my "neighbours" is certain...
a juicy thumb he left as proof of presence
for the CSI officer...
officer...
that too...

      my mother doesn't take my work
seriously... like i don't take her housewife
"work" seriously...
but during the initial investigation by a PC
when asked about profession
i answered: SECURITY
to which he duly noted: security OFFICER...
hmm... what a moral boost
concerning status...

police officers, firemen, ambulance personnel,
security officers...
and all the moral principles of:

come the age of man in his mid 30s...
time to start looking for a serious woman:
an older woman...
i would have never gone down the rabbit
hole of seeking an younger woman
to have some sort of advantage:
i wanted an equal and an equal
i found in an older woman...
in the footsteps of Macron and Wolverine...

anima per anima
duo per duo ut unum

now for the geometry of seeing with only one eye:
hallucinations in the night,
how the closed eye merges
and disrupts the night
or rather how the night invites itself
to quasi dream -

geometry by letters, one eye and that annoying
nose...
always present however missing
with ().     () two...

it must have been so that
Polyphemus had his eye placed above
his nose to never engage in a nasal entanglement
quiet like the crows are emergent
in flight and peck:

L Γ

peripheral vision of the ape
180º
              but i think that crows and horses
have... an almost 360º vision...
if not 358º vision...

    (a) clepsydra funnel sight(s)

        ∇
        Δ

             stars stars and some David:
this is my colateral,
this is my Balaam moment with the Israelites,
because of gematria
being akin to astrology
such foolish waste of cognitive resources
sheer boredom!


     O
                ∇
                Δ
                      
O

cubism - Picasso lettering
that is a face, striking how i can't really tell apart
a nose from a nose or a noose,
protruding or retracting?

ever see a hawk chase a prey?
i'm pretty sure the prey can see the hawk
honing in...
ergo? 358º vision...
given that birds fly into glass buildings
but then glass and air
indistinguishable...
like mirror and water...

Edie Edie my honey bear my peaches
this i ode unto you...
R           ya'R               Ar         R
pi              R           i didn't eat:
but you ate: my hairy chest your *****
and all that floral of flesh of you
i can be unabashed in public
for public to scrutinise:

     since i'm not me now but am me
with you...
given: if everything is ****-
pride charged: i'll create an advent for
the binary cis ****
a nudge in the opposite propaganda dictum
of a culture of a sunset...

cite Trinity in the matrix of:
dodge this...
                              i:              pride this...
and it only took roughly a ***** dozen (13)
of like minded individuals on
an SIA course to get a membrane
going - the walls of Troy have risen once
more...
none of this English
liberal *** nonsense middle class jargon
newspaper friendly opinion section
"journalism" of opinions
without a dialectical scrutiny...

the editorial section i can at least respect
for its impartiality and commitment
to a non-person ghost-like allure...
having opinions makes you less than a journalist
when not debated...
a sort of *****-like ATM
an inflated egoism... which is no heroism at all...

but i digress - having in mind
the poor opinions concerning poetics:
enough said:
too many practitioners not enough
craftsmen...
then again: poetry in a democratic crisis?
at least poetry adheres to democracy:
in principle and above all in practice:
why vote when x
   why not grasp for a voice...

in vox electio -

     in voice a choice: one can choose to either
speak or not speak...
carefully listening to thus carelessly speak:
how glorious that:
to carefully listen but also carelessly speak...
it is this freedom
not libertas per se
but rather on grounds of:

audite diligenter
                                                     loqui neglegenter

and amend and retract
with not fear of prosecution with no
******* mental gymnastics
                                    of censorship:
speech like water - speech like thought

as far as selfishness is concerned:
we all owe ourselves this sort of "selfishness".

oh how i desecrated the initial origin
of these words... from high on...
to this lowly human
and fragile and

'you can't make this **** up...
so i'm still reading Knausgaard's mein kampf
vol. 6 and i'm in this interlude
where he's talking about
a Paul Celan poem,
the symmetry the words, adjectives,
pronouns blah blah
and the symmetry of a poem
resting upon the middle with a focus
on a wet eye....
the past the future, disembodiment etc
and there i am... a day later...
with a ******* eye infection and an eye patch!'

— The End —