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Pushing Daisies Jan 2015
I am the one who cuts the strings and,
Then ties them back together.

I am the one engulfed by tears and,
longs for a forever.

I could never,
blame you.

For this knot containing,
tangles.

Giving up on me is the only answer,
To those questions never asked.

You tried (once or twice) I do remember,
I'm the one who remains masked.

And,
I could never,
blame you.

For the things that go,
unseen.

I expexted you to be a little more like
me.

I expected you to look inside and,
delve deep into the sea.

But you did not.

*For that I cannot blame you
Akira Chinen Dec 2019
twelve years ago you fell
from your mothers belly
like a soft prayer of small miracles
all of heaven contained within
the wonder sparkling in your eyes
everything that could be
more than I expected
happiness more abundant than infinite
beautiful in every sense
that love can be defined
I have never appreciated
the air in my lungs
or the blood in my veins
or the pulse and rhythm of my heart
more than the first time I held you
or the last time I heard you laugh

twelve years pasted so quickly
and I am torn equally
between wishing I could stop time
and the excitement of watching you grow
the impatience for seeing who you will become
you are both hope and the future

twelve years of being the luckiest dad
the happiest father
it often feels like you have been teaching me
more than I will ever be able to teach you
you have made it so easy
life so joyous

your heart is a treasure trove of kindness
your soul a gentle campaign of patience
your intellect sharp
with both wisdom and humor
what a gift it has been
to love you
to be loved by you

twelve years of everything
that could be more than I expected
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 ****.

— The End —