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JDH Jun 2017
Some introductory 'food' for thought...

"When people say they prefer organic food, what they often seem to mean is they don't want their food tainted with pesticides and their meat shot full of hormones or antibiotics. Many object to the way a few companies - Monsanto is the most famous of them - control so many of the seeds we grow."
  - Michael Specter

"My grandfather used to say that once in your life you need a doctor, a lawyer, a policeman and a preacher but every day, three times a day, you need a farmer"
  - Brenda Schoepp

"Economically, many folks don't feel they can afford organic. While this may be true in some cases, I think more often than not it's a question of priority. I feel it's one of the most important areas of concern ecologically, because the petrochemical giants - DuPont, Monsanto - make huge money by poisoning us."
  - Woody Harrelson


Who is Monsanto?
Monsanto is a Chemicals/Pharmaceutical/Agriculture company that was established in 1901 in the United States, and over the last century has occupied a particularly interesting and questionable history that has within recent times took to the global scale, growing into a multinational corporation, well nigh on the complete monopolisation of the Agriculture industry whilst having established connections to the chemical and pharmaceutical industry. They are less well known for their creation of Agent Orange, of which they claimed had no harmful effects on the human body, which was utilised very predominantly during the Vietnam War by the U.S. military as a defoliant, however, caused hundreds of thousands of deaths by poisoning, and has now led to an epidemic of birth deformities in the regions of use. Monsanto experienced more involvement in war through their involvement in the Manhattan Project, which resulted in the creation of the first nuclear bombs to be tested on Japanese civilian populations. They also have a background in their production of PCB's (Polychlorinated biphenyls) which once again, had the negative human and environmental effects ignored and misrepresented hitherto 1977 when they were banned, however, was not before many fresh water supplies and the air had been contaminated and was a known carcinogen in humans, along with other health damages. There was then of course their production of DDT's in the post war period that was advertised as a 'wonder-chemical' to be used in agricultural pesticides. However, it was later uncovered that its spraying caused a high percentage of food breakdown in crop and in humans caused breast cancer, male infertility, miscarriage, developmental delay and nervous system/liver damage. They even tested the effects of radioactive Iron on 829 pregnant women in a bizarre experiment. Having no shortage of scandalous and often at times frequenting blatantly corrupt behaviour on their dubious track record, with an abundance of data and study arising in protest of the company's use of dangerous chemicals and genetic modifications in food, it is surely best to question the activity and history of this company.


What chemical poisons are being used?
Some of you are probably aware as to the fact that within many food products today there are various chemicals being used in modification, cultivation and in processing, many of which are harmful, often deadly to the human body and to the ecosystem. So harmful in fact that in cultivation workers are required to wear bio-hazard suits and due to the toxicity of the area in farming these GM crops, are required to ***** signs in the surrounding area warning of the danger.

So one chemical that has been pushed into foods and drink by Monsanto since the early 20th Century is Saccharin, an artificial sweetener made from coal tar which is used predominantly in Soda, Coke and processed foods, and is 700 times sweeter than sugar. In 1907 when Saccharin was first investigated by the USDA it was quoted as,"a coal tar product totally devoid of food value and extremely injurious to health" , and by the 1970's, when the chemical began to garner greater use, the FDA attempted to ban its use in products after discovering it causes cancers (particularly bladder cancer) in animals and humans, however, today is still used as an artificial sweetener, and between 1973-1994 the National Cancer Institute saw a 10% increase in bladder cancers.

Monsanto are also responsible for the pushing of another artificial sweetener onto the market to be consumed by humans, that being Aspartame, even more harmful than Saccharin, and since being used in Coke, particularly Diet Coke, since 1983, the rest of industry followed suit. When melted down at 30°C into its liquid form in use for soft drinks, it become far deadlier than in its powdered state. It was found that it caused tumours and holes in the brains of rats and is more addictive than crack *******. After a multitude of independent scientific studies arose in protest of the use of Aspartame, Monsanto bribed the National Cancer Institute to produce fabricated data. Here are some of the know side effects of Aspartame consumption in humans according to the US Food and Drug Administration:

• mania  
• blindness
• joint-pain
• fatigue
• weight-gain
• chest-pain
• coma
• insomnia
• numbness
• depression
• tinnitus
• weakness
• spasms
• irritability
• nausea
• deafness
• memory-loss
• rashes
• dizziness
• headaches
• seizures
• anxiety
• palpitations
• fainting
• cramps
• diarrhoea
• panic
• burning in the mouth
• diabetes
• MS
• lupus
• epilepsy
• Parkinson’s
• tumours
• miscarriage
• infertility
• fibromyalgia
• infant death
• Alzheimer’s

As is quite evident, Aspartame not only lacks any nutritional value, it also can have grave effects on humans when consumed. In fact, over 80% of complaints made to the FDA concern Aspartame and is now used in over 5000 products, yet facts are still being misrepresented and as primary producers of Aspartame such as Monsanto produce false data to cover their tracks.


How is their monopoly being secured?
Monsanto within recent decades has somewhat become the archetype of corruption and corporatism, devoting many millions to Government lobbying in order to maintain its hegemony over agriculture, its use of harmful chemicals and to maintain restrictions of food labelling of GM products. In fact, the company seems to have a revolving door between itself and Government now, one example being the FDAs Arthur Hull resigning due to controversy and going straight to an employee at Monsanto as a Public Relations representative. This means that the FDA, the central official force against the use and proliferation of harmful products is in bed with Monsanto, the main proliferator.

Another creation Monsanto have pushed into pastoral agriculture is their Synthetic Bovine Growth Hormone which is a genetic modification of the E-coli virus to be used in dairy products and cows. And in order to make sure this product is pushed onto farmers, Monsanto sues any that do not use it with teams of lawyers. They also, in a far more cunning and destructive method, are able to and have destroyed other, natural crop cultivation by the use of their Genetically Modified crops themselves. What they have done is modified their crops in order that they self pollinate, and that bees that come into contact with their crops are killed, causing mass hive collapses, which then means any natural crop in surrounding farms die off due to a lack of bees to pollinate them, forcing them to join the monopoly of Monsanto's GM supply.

Also, before the aerial spraying aluminium and barium into the skies began in 1998, that has seen a rise in the content of aluminium particles per/cm from near 0 to 30,000 in many areas, Monsanto patented crops that are resistant to soil with such high concentrations, meaning they now have legal ownership over crops, whereas the natural produce may be ungrowable in a number of places where the spraying concentration is high. On a side not, the spraying of aluminium into the sky since 1998 has also caused a massive spike in Alzheimer disease and lung cancers, rising from the tens of thousands to the millions of cases per year.

To Conclude, Monsanto has recently made a very big merger deal with the Pharmaceutical company Bayer, the ones who produced Zyklon-B for the **** extermination chambers. Sure sounds like some safe operations.


- an essay by JDH
Agricultural monopoly with a history of extensive corruption...
brandon nagley Jun 2015
Saccharin
                             ( lay it on me Spanish queen)
Ksjpari Aug 2017
Of all vice in the world under discipline
Laziness – a Curse - is like a Saccharin.
Sweet as pipe, sonorous as violin
Wicked as a snake, ill-mannered as Bedouin;
Laziness creeps in secretly body within
And remains there undisturbed and akin.
It is seen when duty or slog does spin
Grinds us till in others found Lenin.
But that is a bad time as made us thin.
Hence precaution must be taken, O Kin!
Laziness, a Bad King, should not reign
Over us from beginning to let out jinn.
Of all vice in the world under discipline
Laziness – a Curse - is like a Saccharin.
I am developing a new style of writing poetry where ending words of a line rhyme with one another, at least in last sound. I named it Pari Style. Hope readers will like it. Thanks to those invisible hands and fingers which supported and inspired me to continue my efforts in my new, creative, artistic and innovative “Pari” style. Thanks for your inspiring, kind, soft fingers.
Andrew Tinkham Jun 2015
For the love of God
Make yourself easily
Remember Casey.
Call the kid
Heaven forbid
He should get too racey.
Sorcerers
Saccharin
These are fun to say again.
Pixie Stix
Valvoline
Simplify understanding.
Juliana Dec 2014
Are you sound of mind?
Addicted to dandelions
like the ocean is to ice.
Wait outside the blood bank,
learn how to write dialogue
and make saccharin spines.

My journal is a tangle of spines,
keep an open mind
help me box up my ****** dialogue.
I’ve always been a fan of dandelions
etching paths along the river bank,
streams within the winter ice.

Buckets of camphor ice
relax the notches in spines
as we wait in line at the food bank.
Thoughts of jawbones on my mind,
the taste of dandelions
and organized pre-scripted dialogue.

Backhanded blue dialogue,
counting the vanilla crystals of ice
blowing the smell of cinnamon into floating dandelions.
My hands handle happiness spines
with the peace of mind
of money in the piggy bank.

Let's rob a bank
shooting quiet malleable dialogue
through an altered state of mind.
Your ribs are two sheets of ice
ivy wrapping around our intertwined spines
crumbly blowing breaths of dandelions.

Second hand dandelions
build up in the river bank
muddy trenches around spines
whisper outspoken blue green dialogue.
Three pounds of dry ice,
warm water vapour at the back of my mind

Store buy your dandelions, bear in mind
that the West Bank is covered in ice
and that spines speak their own muted dialogue.
sestina series continues, one left
shirley temple Aug 2011
I ripped out your insides from the outside,
and I hung them out to dry.
I tore your outside to spill your insides,
and I stood and watched you cry.
I fed you lies for every meal,
and watched you eat them up.
I watched as you grew sick and sicker,
but even that was not enough.
I heard you cry and laughed out loud,
but you refused to see,
That even though you told me "never,"
you did all this to me.
You ripped me open and ate me up,
as my cheeks kept getting wetter.
I did to you what you did to me,
Only..baby, I did it better.
Megan Milligan Aug 2011
I. Shining Armor

To all those would-be knights in shining armore:
Make sure you have a goodly supply of silver polish on your person
Because this woman is sick and tired
Of all the tarnish she keeps running into.

Really.

Fakeness gets real old, real quick.

I ‘m looking for a man with manners, grace, respect and class.
Not someone who’ll ultimately turn out to be an ***.
I’m not looking for too much I think.
In fact, I’d given up looking at all
Because the lot of them weren’t worth the flesh
God poured their sorry souls into.

Then, you came along,
Swept me off my feet with your Leo hurricane-force personality.
Fire sign burning through my resolves and inhibitions
Until there was nothing left
But trembling and desires and hidden fantasies

But I thought I saw something behind that solid wall of sexuality
A dark knight in shining armor
Intelligence in every timbered vibration fo your baritone voice,
Smooth like Barry white,
****, I thought, you are the whole package!
Family man, gentleman, talented artistic man
Man who said women were to be respected
As they were God’s gift.

How many men, afterall, would walk you to the bus,
Stand in front of you
So the sun didn’t glare in your face, facing west.
A glowing halo surrounded your head.
My angel, mon amour
My knight in shining armor.


II. Tarnish

Fast forward to today.
Man up,
Or move on out of my life.
I’ve waited a long time
For someone with manners, grace, respect, and class.
I’m not going to waste my time
Waiting on as ***.
Not that you’ve been one, mon amour,
But I’m starting to see a little tarnish on your shining armor.

I try to be up front,
Give you the 411 on what’s going on
Is it too much to expect no less out of a relationship?
Honesty, communication
Lay everything on the line so no misunderstandings.
Maybe I’m setting myself up,
Blinded by the shine of your armor
And your promises spoken.
Soothed, hypnotized by the timbered vibration of your baritone voice.
Smooth like Barry White.
Okay, one more time, I will trust you.
On your knight’s honor,
My knight in slightly tarnished armor.


III. Tinfoil

I’m looking for a man
With manners, grace, respect, and class
Not someone who’ll ultimately turn out to be an ***,
And you crossed that line.
The shine is gone,
And no amount of silver polish is gonna wipe clean your tarnish.

You see, there are two things I hold sacred in relationships:
Honesty and keeping promises,
Both of which you failed miserably at as a man.
Yeah I set myself up for a fall as well,
Expecting no less than what I put in myself.

But what good is being together
If you’re the only one putting for any effort.
A relationship is supposed to be give and take.
Not giving and giving and giving and giving
And getting nothing in return
But a bad player’s broken promises
And a broken heart.

Gum stuck on the bottom of my shoe
Has more integrity than you do.
You lied to me.
You put things off.
I would’ve had more respect for you
If you gave me straight talk about flings
Or things like “This isn’t working out”
Instead of sweet talk that left a bad aftertaste in my mouth like saccharin.
The only part of you that ever told me the truth
Was more than happy to stand at attention
And speak volumes
Without saying a word.

And speaking of “not speaking,”
You know what really takes the cake?
You didn’t even have the mother-******* *****
To tell me yourself.
I had to find out from someone else.

Some say more shall be revealed.
Boy, were my eyes opened to the fact
That sometimes a knight in shinign armor
Is sometimes just a ****** wrapped in tinfoil.

So, to all those would-be knights in shining armore:
Make sure you have a goodly supply of silver polish on your person
Because this woman is sick and tired
Of all the tarnish she keeps running into.

Really.

Fakeness gets real old, real quick.


IV. Press Seven**

Seven.
Seven is my lucky number.
It helped me to slam the door on your sorry ***
And a chapter in my life I don’t care to re-read.

How dare you
Call up one day out of the blue
And drop a message on my voicemail.
The second I heard “Hi,  it’s (insert name here)”
DELETE!
Seven dumped your *** faster than you dumped mine
Through a third-party representative.

I don’t want to hear any “Hi, How ya doin’s”
I don’t want to hear any reasons
Or excuses
Or glossing-overs of what you did.

I wasn’t kidding when I said
Fakeness gets real old, real quick,
And that goes for ***** like you.
I may be a big woman,
But I’m not the Big Easy.
I’m a woman of respect
And dignity.

So don’t bother e-mailing me.
Don’t bother calling me.
Delete me out of your rolodex
And go trolling down Fourth Street
If you want nothing but ***.

****!
Never did pressing 7 to delete you
Feel so ****** good.
© 8/23/2010
(rev. 5/26/2011, added part 4)
Riz Mack Aug 2021
I overfill the kettle
scoop the overpriced instant
into an oversized mug
clinking the teaspoon around
no sugar
it's not really my thing.
I light up half a joint
waiting for the coffee to cool
and think about what's to come
what's today
I'll likely see her there
I'll likely sit down next to her
making small talk, a likely excuse
to study the lines of her face
she'll tell me about the fields she's rambled
about the mountains she's climbed
I'll tell her how I do still write
sometimes
she'll say, "it was good to see you".
and I'll tell her the same
before we part ways
no sugar for me
it's not really my thing.
Mike Hauser Sep 2023
All I have now is this saccharin smile
Plastered all over my face
The sweet one I had lost all its pizazz
As it dragged on through the day after day

It might have melted in the turmoil
When things started heating up
It's easy to sour in this world
When that's about all you've got

This saccharin smile that I've had for awhile
Leaves a bitter aftertaste
On the tip of my tongue with all that is wrong
And everything out of place

Yet I guess it serves its purpose
To those still hanging around
I'm sure that it's well worth it
Being better than that of a frown
PrttyBrd Feb 2014
Do not let me trust your
Mouth full of lies
Kisses of saccharin-sweet hemlock
Eyes of angelic innocence
And heart of iron, forged in Hell
Set me free before you hurt me
Let me go and fair thee well
22314
Isabel Feb 2018
This saccharin seeps into me,
Liquid recompense trickling,
Trickling,
Into my bloodstream.
This ichor, sweeter than the morphine
I fiend for.
A ******, hungering for a hit.
So I pray to you,
Somnus, please don't send me away.
Night looming behind you,
Death in the wings.
Everyone knows that they have a sweet tooth
And I'm all sugar.
Willowmena Wren Nov 2014
Coco is sitting on my lap as she adamant about that
When she is sweet, she is saccharin
With black, velvet fur over her perfectly shaped head
The one with the bat-shaped ears -
She even looks like Batman from behind

Armani, he doesn't like his name very much
For if he did, he'd come more when he is called.
I'm not sure I really like it for him either.
He is truly a pygmy lion and his demeanor is his roar
He let me hold him earlier - but jealous Coco had to interfere

They are both beautiful - in the stereotypical cat way
Individual in their personalities though
Unique in their expressions of themselves as frisky felines
They demand attention  -
especially when they have something "important" to say

They will tear up the apartment in one fell swoop
And I refer to their claws as weapons of mass destruction
Seems their claws provide them a means of revenge
A means of recreation as well as means of diffusing stress
Cats stress?  Oh, my but yes!  

Don't be tardy with the food and certainly,
Don't be ***** when they've pood
If so, you will know their wrath as described above
Cleaning up another mess can cause YOU some great distress
Which will all melt away as they purr at your caress

I don't think that I've found a more rewarding position
Than caring for a cat, despite their disposition
Of Mice and Men, though a great, great tale
Has nothing on Coco and Armani or their magnificent tails
I acquiesce that I am their guest and so, will behave in part

To give love and affection, some discipline or direction
To know just how I will behave
This is "how you train your human"
The way of the master, the feline brigade!
I know this needs work and well, since adopting these 2 kittens, brother and sister, aka "The Dynamic Duo" - I just had to write something to express my awe and distress.
PJ Poesy Sep 2018
Her steaming kettle  

window into wetness of what was

whistling jets conjuring self-precipitation

There, go memories

dewy laden long gone

Vexing saturation making tea time’s solitude

weep childhood, weep marriage, weep motherhood

ululating swirls in her cup

No amount of saccharin can sweeten  

sipping whimper’s brew

Her hour of orange pekoe empties
This is one about Mom's Alzheimer's.
Uzee May 2013
slightest of her sight
was such it's gravity's might
wholly my heart shook
such was that compelling look

left me utterly sired
tangled like a tainted wire
heart crumbling
feet stumbling

blind by her aura's light
such was it's bright
my heart melodiously sings
trapped by her angelic wings

like she came from pretty moon
for me was she a boon
her rolling eyes something they meant
for I was hypnotized by her saccharin scent

wore exquisite crimson dress
that showered roses with zest

I knew one thing for sure
this love was veritably pure
no dream no fantasy this was
to aquire you my only devoted cause..
JD Connolly Oct 2011
the defense of your legacy manifested into strings of saccharin
and phrases like ‘Come on in from the rain.  We all need a torrent to own the storm, just- take off your clothes, don’t mind Kierkegaard.’

your sincerity is a cipher

you’re something of a conversation piece between good friends
who were artfully made of pre-engineered steel on a day Jove tremored in his bed
you’re something postured beneath a javelin
and likewise- something propelled for decorum

blackguard, black coffee and a birthmark turned into a running joke.
inevitable.

you searched the bottoms of summer pools
and found no discernible trace of your history
her sable crown whips back and forth in your head
and you maintain the chaos with aureate cries of preservation
it’s a halcyon boom, a lonely and sexless halcyon boom
it makes every yellow and red dress chimerical
it makes your neck unassailable
drugstore cowboy

they got close enough
to see you sweat
to note that heat and her magnificence could purge as quick as they reinstate

and you still beat
like they do

stubbornly.
High on Lolipops Jul 2013
Smoked salmon lightly charred,
Sweetness in air like
Saccharin infused with mulch and cedar.

Barking of sled hounds
Benign touch of the dry, cold wind to
Bland your nerves

Temperatures below zero
Still welcoming
The sun peeking out from grey clouds

The beginning of a new day,
In the arms of Alaska.
Another horrible poem to melt your eyes...Well, I went to Alaska 2 years ago, so this poem is a reminiscence of the trip. As you can tell, this is based of Alaska in the summer thus the sun is still (kind of) shinning. Thanks!!!! XD
anne collins Jan 2013
There was sweetness far too savage
In the sweat of your embrace
A window reflection all too simplified
For the flesh we bite just to taste

There was piquancy in saccharin tea
Spiked within promises we chase
A line confined within passion’s poison
Cursively articulated in voided space

There was a wholesome serenity in anticipation
Diluted with the sins that desires trace
A confessional ridden with dishonesty and hellfire
Fueled with the shadows in the sunlight’s wake

Passion will be as
Passion does
We will **** each other
Like the other does
And all will be
What never was
KarmaPolice Jun 2014
An ill man’s guilt


I’m perfectly fine, I keep telling myself,
I’m loaded up to my eyeballs, swimming in my wealth.
I've got a best friend who's with me all the time,
His favourite drink is lager and lime.

Yes officer my name is Dave, my address?
It's number 1234 The Cave.
What am I wearing officer? What a strange thing to ask.
I'm wearing a penguin suit and an eye glass?

What's that Steve? I won’t mention that...
They will think I am loopy or some kind of prat!
Yes officer, No I am fine, why do you ask?
I want to complain and put you to task!

Don't raise my Voice?? What do you mean?
Tell him Steve, to stop being so mean!
Get off me, what's going on?
Help me someone my mind has just gone!

Yes officer, there is medication I take,
It's at 1234 down by the lake.
Hello there doctor, I have a sore throat,
Steve help the Doctor out, don't just stand there and gloat!

A drink doctor? I'd love one, a saccharin as well?
Impressive what's in it?? Go on. Do tell...
I’m tired Steve let me go to bed!
I've not slept for months, let me rest my weary head.

OK doctor do what you like,
But be careful doctor, those syringes do spike.................
Apologies doctor for the other day,
My mind just wouldn't come out to play!

Who's Steve Doctor?? Ask him yourself! He’s just there,
The one with a jumper and ginger hair,
No Doctor Steve isn't dead,
He went for a long sleep in his double sized bed.....

Steve was my brother Doctor, can you not see?
He died in the summer of August...1973
I should have been there Doctor, when Steve passed that night,
But I was too busy injecting, I was high as a kite!


Before the Guilt


Steve? Listen to me,
When mom goes out, it’s just you and me,
We are going to play a game called hide and seek.
You be quiet when you hide, and do not speak!

Do we have an understanding? Or do I draw you a picture?
Or use those cards, that you are familiar?
That's it boy, keep it to yourself,
I've got to locate my 'medicine', off the top of the shelf.

Right then she's gone, you go and hide like I said,
Don't be so obvious and lie under the bed,

Stupid boy... he's sixteen years old going on three,
I'm rattling badly, I need the karma in me,
Switch on the music, get out my ****,
My usual is coming round, so I can plant my seed,

Steve? I can't find you...I'm a sarcastic ****!
He's probably fell asleep. With any luck,

Need to open the windows, this gear is filling the room,
The ****** is bubbling nicely, on this battered old spoon,
My hands shaking, I need to hurry this up,
The needle is drawing nicely, the syringe is full up,

Time to meet karma, widen my eyes,
Needle in my legs, it's easier to hide
The rush in my blood, filling me with calm,
I'll light up my joint, it won't do any harm.

Feeling drowsy, this **** is so strong,
I'm out of my face, but my feelings are wrong?
The pain, pounding in my chest,
I'm sweating profusely, right through my vest,

Can't move, falling asleep in the breeze......
Steve???.....Steve??....STEEEEVEE???!!.....

Can you hear me? Can you hear me? You *******!!!
Your brother hung himself......while you were plastered!
I'll never forgive you for what you have done...
I can't even look at you...You are no longer my son!
Read in the intended order. The secret behind his schizophrenia.
Misty Meadows Dec 2018
Do you like the sweetness
Of the things you
Can't have?

Walk into a candy shop
And browse with
No cash.

I know you smell that toffee
And that box of bon bons.
All that sugar's bad for me.
You know it's so wrong.

But you know I melt like
Chocolates under early summer
Suns.

So sweet, I lick my fingers
Then I buy another one.

Sweeter than red velvet
And a glass of cherry Cola.

I forgot I'm diabetic.
But I'll settle for the coma.
Marshal Gebbie Oct 2013
To my mate Stevo....with love*

‘Tis perilous, Sir, to write our thoughts to paper,
To commit our living words to those unknown,
For regardless of the flair expressed in writing all with care
The interpretation’s different to each clone.
What may be black and white and clear as crystal,
To others may diffuse as shades of grey
And the message, though succinct, may be read as challenge brink-ed
To confuse and collapse in disarray.

Oh the agony and the ecstasy of we writers
Is best captured in the rolling of the dice
For to script all saccharin sweet may be interpreted as… effete?
But a dour approach won’t be observed as nice!
Yet to lay about with broadsword is defeatist
And collapsing belly up implies a lie,
So perhaps the best refrain is to abstain from all the pain
And leave the ****** prose to fools who don’t care… why?

Marshalg
In absentia….again!
18 October 2013
SøułSurvivør Feb 2016
they sometimes say
yes the taste of
poison cloys
but in the end it kills its host
in wickedness
destroys

the sweet and saccharin flavor
that revenge imparts
is nothing to the honey
the milk of kindness
brings the

HEART



SoulSurvivor
2/3/2016
They say revenge is a dish
best served cold?

Well. I could have whacked
a rock solid FROZEN bowl of
vichyssoise
in the direction of a few people
(not here)
and lodged it between their
teeth like a
HOCKEY PUCK

But did I? No.

BECAUSE I AM NOT LIKE THAT

Someone once said that mistaking
meekness for weakness
comes from minds that do not
know true strength.
TRUTH
Meekness IS strength
UNDER CONTROL
Those who are vengeful have no control
over their animal nature.
The reptile brain kicks in.

Come ON, folks!
Do we walk on TWO legs?

Or FOUR.

♡ Catherine
Insect soloist of enormous color brushstroke
the given day
Cobalt- silver windows laced with
mountains of billowing steam , coveys
of timid Quail spark an afternoon of vivid dreams
A whisper of hope to awaiting ear , the
saccharin flavor of love filling warm air
The living day of Wren , Sparrow and Chickadee
The very hour of Live Oak , Sugar Pine and Mulberry
Fertile , vivacious stream beds on course for Gulf waters
Rainbow infused land of Cherokee Fathers* ...
Copyright April 26 , 2016 by Randolph L Wilson * All Rights Reserved
no sir. so sir
you didn't catch me hesitating
it's inhuman
for me to leave you waiting

let's see...
eyes are dull and morose
it won't take the usual dose
of saccharin and vitamins
to blanket the symptoms
no wait, it should give up
this is a hopeless case
sir, you have a shifting fiction
with a pretty girl's face

this wasn't in my job description
i didn't sign up for my condition
i won't doll it up with lily lace
i've got a fractured case
i've got an unstoppable case
incomplete and all sorts of ******. sorry.
Casper J Oct 2013
Memories grow whisper thin as autumn's gold on winter wind,
the leaves have turned
a brittle brown,
the memories
fade away.

Without the whispered words within, without the gilded saccharin,
this little now -
this moment
still
remains.
Danielle Shorr Aug 2014
Pablo Neruda wrote too many love poems
Almost all about how someone compares to the ocean
But he forgot
The often times both human
And nature
Are more storm than calm
The sea is reckless and unforgiving
And already there are too many writings
About softness and sweet
Too many sonnets about gentle
Love
Is not gentle
Love grabs from the roots and pulls with savage hands
Demands to be more than just flower
More than white petal admiration
Love is thorn and finger-pricking
Bleeding palms and heavy skin
Love
Is often ugly
And I am wondering how
Neruda found it possible
To find so much beauty in it
How it is possible
To write so much beauty
I can only guess
That he must have had a love
Greater than most
A love that molded his heart into convection oven
Spitting his words into saccharin and sweet
Candy for the world to savor in their mouths
Maybe he always wrapped his language in gold
Or maybe it's just that he saw what others couldn't
Found spark in the ordinary
Somehow managed
To string together letters in crochet
Sew them into masterpiece
I want a love
That can make me do the same
I still think Neruda
Wrote too many love poems
But it makes sense
When you are told to write what you know
And all you know
Is love.
Danielle Shorr Jun 2014
I am the kind of person
To write love poems for someone I just met
Thinking that maybe words can make up for my lack of confidence
My quirkiness
My overwhelming insecurities
And that awkward laugh that often escapes my mouth without warning
Phrases eager to leave my lips
I compose sonnets without thinking
Sew them on to jean pockets so that
Everytime you get undressed
You think of me
I don't know if that's socially acceptable
But I'm willing to take the risk
See
I am the person
Who fears coming off as creepy
Yet still hands out lines of poetry like candy on street corners
I swear my purpose
Is not
To reel you in
Capture you between spiderwebs spun from my fingertips
My intentions are honest
I am not looking for one night stand
Meaningless
Not on a constant hunt for momentary happiness
I want something that will last longer than sweetness
Longer than saccharin
Hit harder than whiskey
Won't leave a bitter aftertaste on my tongue
I have drowned too many times in salty waters
To know that I am more likely to sink than float
I have not yet learned how to swim in the deep end
I do not know how many attempts it will take to get to the center of me
There is no sweet middle
Waiting to be divulged
I have blocked off the pathways to myself
Not very often do I open them back up
I have a sign tied around my body stating
Warning
Do not enter
You might get stuck
I have a heart that is filled with quicksand and duct tape
The longer you stay around the harder it is
For me to let go
I am not trying to trap people
But everytime they leave,
A part stays with me
I have a photo albums on the insides of my skin
Sometimes the memories flowing through my veins pile up
And it is too much
All at once
I am the kind of person
Who runs towards sharp edges of opportunity with open arms
And then complains about the bleeding
I am the kind of person
Who can't help but repeat
Repeat
Everything I feel
Until I don't feel it anymore
I have promised myself
That I will stop falling at first sight
I have hit my head relentlessly
With severity
Too many times
But has never been enough for me to stop
None of this
Has ever been enough for me to stop
I am the kind of person
To write love letters
And never send them
Keeping them behind locked doors
Keeping them
For myself
To remember every detail
I am the kind of person
That may never know
How exactly
To love
I am still learning
How to love
Myself.
Savoir Jan 2014
Not the one to sound saccharin

I put a tear in Cupid’s eye

High expectations.
More likely a fear of rejection...

Losing imaginary infatuation.
Paul Goring Apr 2013
I don’t care
About your perception of my
Saccharin sentimentality
But I know
That on the day
That humanity kills the last Tiger
That the beauty in the world
Will have gone
Our science-fiction
Will start to be fact
And magnificence
Will be only ours to create
Melancholy though it will be
If we are to be Gods
And make this world our concrete
Functional costed playground
Then the poetry will need
to be **** good
The music  
Better
And we will need to
Reconnect with something
That will make it all
bearable  
forgiveable
and worthwhile
Derrek Estrella Jun 2019
***** Miss Whint took a flight on a Saturday night
***** Miss Whint showed the world her insides
If science can’t show her a number
She’ll take despair to a mystical side
And the world will be her child

If you can find a path to the sea
I’ll call you a human being
If that’s worth believing
Faces articulate so cantankerously
And lose any intention for their mind

While we grow, yet still coagulate
Perhaps we’ll see, her cruelty’s bound to time
And we’ll be fine
In her broken home is where she dominates
And hates her own cherry tree
Who screamed immensely

***** Miss Whint, she took a flight
***** Miss Whint was despair at first sight
She lost emotionality
When she confided in reality

***** Miss Whint has the look of a saccharin knife
***** Miss Whint made it hard to live a life
When we’re all strangers to the sun
The working man’s light is the muzzle flash of a gun
But we’re just having fun

She sweeps the open road with love
And a diamond compartment
Twisting the road-bent
Indignant children are the fodder of her highway
That leads to a city in the wane

While she eats the air and lives another day
Deep lines accentuate her mighty wake
And that’s okay
The fools are left to smiles and opulence
She makes them find sense in their own pretence
Preaching, “there’s no end”

***** Miss Whint, she took a flight
***** Miss Whint was despair at first sight
You lost emotionality
When you confided in reality

If her mouth was wider when she began
Maybe we could have had some fun
But how could she care for what happened minutes ago?
There is an open vent to useless things to sow
If her eyes were brighter when we lost our lives
Maybe we could be satisfied
But typewriters stay their hand to the climate’s cold command
And we’re left to indulge in what still stands

So, as I wrote this like a letter
To a lady of vicious weather
Someone then caught me and said,
“Swallow those words or I’ll have your head”
So I said,
“This note has no point, so go count your coins”

***** Miss Whint has the look of the fourth of July
***** Miss Whint took a ruler to the human life
When we’re all frightened by the sun
The working man’s light is the masquerade of a gun
But we’d all rather run
Sethnicity Mar 2016
Sometimes I feel the dry air on my parched heart feel the faith in hope and love streaming out from the delta the fingers crossed timbers lost in the hurricane of hail Marys and weak end roller coasters, so many saccharin socials and UN  I'd ent if ied flights sauce erd threw the night what will it take to cure me right? Fallow friend and hallowed brother dreams are where we reunite but I wish that fog would clear and I fear that rest just might your mother seems young at gaze but those bones are weary from the fight and I am weary too so I said all that just to say where the havens are you?
Unidentified Saucered Flights https://soundcloud.com/thesethnicity/unidentified-saucered-flight
Ksjpari Aug 2017
Remote area where there is no screen
Timidity rules alone trying to save skin.
Of all evils in the creation under discipline
Timidity  – a curse – is like a Saccharin.
Sugary as tweet, booming as a violin
Wicked as a fox, ill-mannered as Bedouin;
Timidity sneaks secretly physique within
And remains there undisturbed and akin.
When obligatory duty or slog is seen
Sharpens us, whet us till found Lenin.
This makes us skinny, lanky and thin.
Living timid for me is no than a sin.
Hence precaution must be taken, O Kin!
Timidity, a severe knight, should not reign
Over us from beginning to let out jinn.
I am developing a new style of writing poetry where ending words of a line rhyme with one another, at least in last sound. I named it Pari Style. Hope readers will like it. Thanks to those invisible hands and fingers which supported and inspired me to continue my efforts in my new, creative, artistic and innovative “Pari” style. Thanks for your inspiring, kind, soft fingers.
Danielle Shorr Aug 2014
I cut myself into pieces for you
So that maybe
I would be easier to swallow
You somehow still managed to choke
On my rough edges
On my bitterness
I am not sweet
Or saccharin
But I refuse to be forgotten
I will stick on your tongue with no remorse
You may have spit me out
Still in pieces
But I will become whole again
Soon enough
And I
Will linger
On your mind
My skin
Will linger
On your hands
And my taste
Will linger
On your tongue.
Terry O'Leary Jan 2019
.              <Once ShallowMan had dared to question>
              <FactoidMan’s sublime suggestion:>
“With a little predigestion
all my Facts compel ingestion
helping shallow decongestion.”

                               “FactoidMan, take no offense,
                               I know your knowledge is immense
                               amidst your store of Facts quite dense,
                               yet still I’m hanging in suspense
                               about your unassumed pretense
                               and if (or not) your Facts make sense.
                               What say you, sage, in your defense?”

“My Facts are self-sustaining views
supported by my mighty muse;
if disbelief is what you choose
just listen to the gull that mews,
eructing fake and faulty news.”

“My Facts are meant for one and all”
              <cried FactoidMan within the stall>
“I plop them out and when they fall
(yes, be they large or be they small)
they leave all witnesses in thrall.”

              <Then FactoidMan informed the crew>
              <(you know the ones, the chosen few,>
              <who try to twist his Facts askew,>
              <subjecting them to peer review>
              <which puts them in the waiting queue>
              <for litter to be hid from view):>
“Well Facts are Facts, yes that is true
so don’t be sad and don’t feel blue
when sitting dazed without a clue;
once more, that’s why I’m here for you.”

“For in my wisdom you may wallow
if you simply seek and follow,
chew my Facts, then gulp and swallow,
stuff your soul, now blank and hollow.”

                               “But FactoidMan, I fail to see
                               the emptiness inside of me”
              <said ShallowMan with modesty>
              <and cert’nly not hyperbole.>
                               “You’ve filled me with a potpourri
                               of concepts bathed in harmony
                               all self-contained and error free
                               (adjudged by you, the referee,
                               with whom no one could disagree
                               and still remain your devotee).”

              <FactoidMan may steal a stride>
              <with Miss Direction at his side>
              <to conquer, baffle or divide;>
              <she sometimes slyly serves to guide>
              <us on a roller coaster ride>
              <through subtle logic simplified>
              <and fuzzy Facts unverified.>

“We’ll make you guys sit back in wonder
stealing all your blood and thunder
when you’ve found you’ve made a blunder,
thrusting you to realms down under
dank defeat, dun dirt and dunder
(pseudo-logic’s would-be plunder,
Miss Direction’s torn asunder).”

                               “Do Miss Direction’s humble graces
                               pivot progress towards new places
                               into which loose logic races
                               (hinged on fundamental bases
                               counter argument outpaces)?
                               And what about the other cases
                               tied with loose ends time unlaces?
                               Just *******, reason soon erases
                               leaving lumps or tiny traces
                               in the gaps and other spaces?”

“Yes, Miss Direction will confirm
my wisdom hides no wily worm,
though simpletons will surely squirm
with Facts they fail to disaffirm
within the short or longer term.”

“She can lecture, you can learn
about the twists at every at every turn
in arguments that you should spurn
when served an ace but can’t return
without disgrace and ego burn
that leaves your ashes in an urn.
(In case you listen, you’ll discern
that winning spins are my concern.)”

              <Well ShallowMan was full of stunts,>
              <posed one more question which confronts:>
                               “Although your data sometimes blunts
                               the points of other’s arguments
                               your reasoning quite oft affronts
                               when based on claims  that logic shunts.
                               Well, won’t this break your covenants?”
              <Then Miss Direction screamed at once>
              <that “ShallowMan’s a silly munce”.>

“But that is neither here nor there”
              <said FactoidMan with scant a care>
“for ShallowMan may often err:
without my Facts, he’s not a prayer,
so should believe and be aware
that truth is mine and never dare
to think new thoughts (and so despair).”

              <Then FactoidMan revealed a frown>
              <in which a pompous smirk could drown:>
“Yes, ShallowMan’s a depthless clown
who must look up for seeing down;
he lives his life in Flatland Town,
his thinking cap’s a dunce’s crown.”

              <But ShallowMan took no offence>
              <though things were getting kind of tense>
              <(with some regrets for being dense)>
               <and answered in his own defense:>
                               “At times credulity replaces
                               rationality in cases
                               where belief in faith’s the basis
                               (filling holes with empty spaces)
                               voiding proofs that logic traces.”

“Does logic really play a role?
It’s certainly not the aim or goal!
Instead, to wheedle or cajole,
while using Facts which I control,
is somewhat simpler on the whole.”

                              “Oh FactoidMan, it’s now so clear
                               the reason why we need you here,
                               protecting from the puppeteer
                               who pulls our strings to interfere
                               with Facts of yours we should revere,
                               and paves our path with morbid fear
                               our straight and narrow bent may veer
                               from certainty you hold so dear,
                               rejecting theories which cohere,
                                ensconced in science, so sincere;
                               and all be ****** should doubts appear.”

“ShallowMan, if you’ve conflictions
owing to your mind’s addictions
to subconscious maledictions,
due to doubt in old convictions;
tell me now of your afflictions.”

                               “FactoidMan, I must confess
                               I understand you more or less
                               though subtleties provoke distress,
                               and even more your fine finesse
                               inclines to make my mind compress.
                               Forgive me now my cheekiness
                               in asking you for some redress;
                               although you’ve certainly gained success
                               convincing others, nonetheless
                               my valuations retrogress
                               to untold depths of shallowness
                               the more your reasons (which impress
                               onlookers with your cleverness
                               at citing Facts, most referenceless)
                               dissolve like dragons in Loch Ness.”

              <Well FactoidMan must simply smile>
              <(and sometimes chuckles for a while)>
              <when ShallowMan acts infantile>
              <and won’t attempt to reconcile>
              <those Facts that rhyme like truth and guile.>

                               “I know that all you say’s legit
                               though oft your Facts sound counterfeit
                               and leave my dawning mind unlit
                               (just feeling like a retrofit).
                               But, on the whole, I must admit,
                               a mental fog’s a benefit;
                               when eyes are closed and hairs are split
                               expressions vague, I might submit
                               although the Facts don’t seem to fit!
                               Please help me once to cope with it.”

“Oh ShallowMan you’re so amusing
when my Facts you find confusing;
you’ve no profit when refusing
simple truths of my own choosing;
bathe in wisdom I’m suffusing
when awake or else while snoozing.”

                               “Oh FactoidMan, ’twould be a sin
                               to mourn for thoughts that might-have-been
                               if you had had more time to spin
                               some arguments to underpin
                               conclusions bringing much chagrin
                               to those who try to do yours in.
                               For yes, it seems your notion’s thin
                               (though acrid, sweetened up within
                               a grain of salt called saccharin).”

“Yes, ShallowMan, you must have known,
I’d find your mindset set-in-stone
when claiming notions underblown
(especially those I call my own)
ignoring all the Facts I’ve shown,
a lapse to which you’re plainly prone.”

                               “No, FactoidMan, I’m not disbanding
                               your contentions so outstanding
                               (even though they need expanding
                               for a thorough understanding);
                               with some polish or else sanding
                               (you know, somewhat less demanding)
                               they might make a model landing,
                               lack of catwalk notwithstanding.”

“To answer you I’ll write a ditty
getting to the nitty-gritty,
oh so lofty, oh so witty,
where the Facts shine, oh so pretty;
if you’re lost, then more’s the pity,
tell it to my subcommittee,
‘Miss Direction’s Detour City’.
Now it’s time to feed the kitty.”

              <Well FactoidMan’s concluding quip>
              <to give advice and hold his grip>
              <(by letting words of wisdom drip)>
              <displayed adroit one-upmanship:>
“Hubba hubba, ching ching ching,
now I’ve taught you everything
without a hook, without  a string;
you needn’t clutch, you needn’t cling,
just bow instead and kiss my ring.”
David Ehrgott Aug 2015
Thirty-six years ago
Singing in the rain
My mind filled with dreams of singing inside

Somewhere
Maybe should have left that dream
Dream somewhere
Maybe somewhere
Like on a Winnipeg farm
Somewhere

Then I left my dream
Somewhere
I fought in secret wars for my country
Somewhere
But, there is no record of it
Anywhere

But, Somehow I managed to glean other dreams
with some (of them) having every color of the rainbow
I guess that that would be all of the colors
Not all the colors are true

I've been told to watch my timbre
How can I see what belongs to the ear?
So, I tell them where to put their pulgar
and number ten my amplitude
  
Here goes
  
Go Ahead and chuck-up Miss Bulimia
You're running way too high
Like A12 hertz
I haven't hit and absolute since high school
and that one came with too much f**ng dirt
  
The true witch, Miss Bulimia
With pendulums for breast
Wanted to entrapped me, slap
Some bracelets 'round my fists
  
I never could paste saccharin on to dog ****
And if I could it would not change the taste
I hope you find the one you want
Someone that never catches you
While I sit here
and slash both of my wrists
  
Cutting is such a natural, no frills high
Doesn't cost you much
But you could die
Better than a drug
You bleed your heart
every time you remember
how it starts
  
A dream
  
of love
  
gone
  
forever
  
Goodbye Miss Bulimic USA
You never could be true is what you said
Still living in a lie
If you got fat, you'd probably die
A head that gives
Is only just a head
Make fun of me
But, wait until I'm dead

— The End —