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Purcy Flaherty Oct 2018
I was treated like the VIP,
A cat and a big fish,
A hook and a big Six,
whilst visiting madam bow-peeps
rotisserie of *****,
Always receptive,
Wearing open silk
working 9 to 5am.
With a little overtime,
hot funk never satisfies,
She had the way-with-all
to feign, delight; even interest,
before negotiating the price,
Two shekels,
She was classy,
kind of slick,
she tickled my ears
for nothing more than kindness,
a small token in exchange for a smile.
She popped on a tune,
as she took off her dress.
The petting started
her two hands tugging with the zipper of my jeans.
A woman's touch... Ha HA,
the rich sultry kiss of *****,
tight and tasty;
***** like a ripe tomato,
Sugar fried and drunk.

She opened her legs,
her hair smelled like shampoo,
She was on her belly,
knees tucked up
as I took in the fruit,
deep holes filled with **** and shabby fingers,
hollow spit and angry poison,
head spinning to the groove,
loud and high,
The bed squeaked
and a single light bulb dangled
like a loose tooth,
Ten minutes and
two ******* love songs!
Sick and spent up,
I got dressed to leave,
I said with a poke,
"I couldn't get laid,
Not even in a ***** house!"
And now I'm back in the cold again,
only dirtier.
Another old poem
The inspiration from William and Don G
Ye martial pow’rs, and all ye tuneful nine,
Inspire my song, and aid my high design.
The dreadful scenes and toils of war I write,
The ardent warriors, and the fields of fight:
You best remember, and you best can sing
The acts of heroes to the vocal string:
Resume the lays with which your sacred lyre,
Did then the poet and the sage inspire.
  Now front to front the armies were display’d,
Here Israel rang’d, and there the foes array’d;
The hosts on two opposing mountains stood,
Thick as the foliage of the waving wood;
Between them an extensive valley lay,
O’er which the gleaming armour pour’d the day,
When from the camp of the Philistine foes,
Dreadful to view, a mighty warrior rose;
In the dire deeds of bleeding battle skill’d,
The monster stalks the terror of the field.
From Gath he sprung, Goliath was his name,
Of fierce deportment, and gigantic frame:
A brazen helmet on his head was plac’d,
A coat of mail his form terrific grac’d,
The greaves his legs, the targe his shoulders prest:
Dreadful in arms high-tow’ring o’er the rest
A spear he proudly wav’d, whose iron head,
Strange to relate, six hundred shekels weigh’d;
He strode along, and shook the ample field,
While Phoebus blaz’d refulgent on his shield:
Through Jacob’s race a chilling horror ran,
When thus the huge, enormous chief began:
  “Say, what the cause that in this proud array
“You set your battle in the face of day?
“One hero find in all your vaunting train,
“Then see who loses, and who wins the plain;
“For he who wins, in triumph may demand
“Perpetual service from the vanquish’d land:
“Your armies I defy, your force despise,
“By far inferior in Philistia’s eyes:
“Produce a man, and let us try the fight,
“Decide the contest, and the victor’s right.”
  Thus challeng’d he: all Israel stood amaz’d,
And ev’ry chief in consternation gaz’d;
But Jesse’s son in youthful bloom appears,
And warlike courage far beyond his years:
He left the folds, he left the flow’ry meads,
And soft recesses of the sylvan shades.
Now Israel’s monarch, and his troops arise,
With peals of shouts ascending to the skies;
In Elah’s vale the scene of combat lies.
  When the fair morning blush’d with orient red,
What David’s fire enjoin’d the son obey’d,
And swift of foot towards the trench he came,
Where glow’d each ***** with the martial flame.
He leaves his carriage to another’s care,
And runs to greet his brethren of the war.
While yet they spake the giant-chief arose,
Repeats the challenge, and insults his foes:
Struck with the sound, and trembling at the view,
Affrighted Israel from its post withdrew.
“Observe ye this tremendous foe, they cry’d,
“Who in proud vaunts our armies hath defy’d:
“Whoever lays him prostrate on the plain,
“Freedom in Israel for his house shall gain;
“And on him wealth unknown the king will pour,
“And give his royal daughter for his dow’r.”
  Then Jesse’s youngest hope: “My brethren say,
“What shall be done for him who takes away
“Reproach from Jacob, who destroys the chief.
“And puts a period to his country’s grief.
“He vaunts the honours of his arms abroad,
“And scorns the armies of the living God.”
  Thus spoke the youth, th’ attentive people ey’d
The wond’rous hero, and again reply’d:
“Such the rewards our monarch will bestow,
“On him who conquers, and destroys his foe.”
  Eliab heard, and kindled into ire
To hear his shepherd brother thus inquire,
And thus begun: “What errand brought thee? say
“Who keeps thy flock? or does it go astray?
“I know the base ambition of thine heart,
“But back in safety from the field depart.”
  Eliab thus to Jesse’s youngest heir,
Express’d his wrath in accents most severe.
When to his brother mildly he reply’d.
“What have I done? or what the cause to chide?
  The words were told before the king, who sent
For the young hero to his royal tent:
Before the monarch dauntless he began,
“For this Philistine fail no heart of man:
“I’ll take the vale, and with the giant fight:
“I dread not all his boasts, nor all his might.”
When thus the king: “Dar’st thou a stripling go,
“And venture combat with so great a foe?
“Who all his days has been inur’d to fight,
“And made its deeds his study and delight:
“Battles and bloodshed brought the monster forth,
“And clouds and whirlwinds usher’d in his birth.”
When David thus: “I kept the fleecy care,
“And out there rush’d a lion and a bear;
“A tender lamb the hungry lion took,
“And with no other weapon than my crook
“Bold I pursu’d, and chas d him o’er the field,
“The prey deliver’d, and the felon ****’d:
“As thus the lion and the bear I slew,
“So shall Goliath fall, and all his crew:
“The God, who sav’d me from these beasts of prey,
“By me this monster in the dust shall lay.”
So David spoke.  The wond’ring king reply’d;
“Go thou with heav’n and victory on thy side:
“This coat of mail, this sword gird on,” he said,
And plac’d a mighty helmet on his head:
The coat, the sword, the helm he laid aside,
Nor chose to venture with those arms untry’d,
Then took his staff, and to the neighb’ring brook
Instant he ran, and thence five pebbles took.
Mean time descended to Philistia’s son
A radiant cherub, and he thus begun:
“Goliath, well thou know’st thou hast defy’d
“Yon Hebrew armies, and their God deny’d:
“Rebellious wretch! audacious worm! forbear,
“Nor tempt the vengeance of their God too far:
“Them, who with his Omnipotence contend,
“No eye shall pity, and no arm defend:
“Proud as thou art, in short liv’d glory great,
“I come to tell thee thine approaching fate.
“Regard my words.  The Judge of all the gods,
“Beneath whose steps the tow’ring mountain nods,
“Will give thine armies to the savage brood,
“That cut the liquid air, or range the wood.
“Thee too a well-aim’d pebble shall destroy,
“And thou shalt perish by a beardless boy:
“Such is the mandate from the realms above,
“And should I try the vengeance to remove,
“Myself a rebel to my king would prove.
“Goliath say, shall grace to him be shown,
“Who dares heav’ns Monarch, and insults his throne?”
  “Your words are lost on me,” the giant cries,
While fear and wrath contended in his eyes,
When thus the messenger from heav’n replies:
“Provoke no more Jehovah’s awful hand
“To hurl its vengeance on thy guilty land:
“He grasps the thunder, and, he wings the storm,
“Servants their sov’reign’s orders to perform.”
  The angel spoke, and turn’d his eyes away,
Adding new radiance to the rising day.
  Now David comes: the fatal stones demand
His left, the staff engag’d his better hand:
The giant mov’d, and from his tow’ring height
Survey’d the stripling, and disdain’d the fight,
And thus began: “Am I a dog with thee?
“Bring’st thou no armour, but a staff to me?
“The gods on thee their vollied curses pour,
“And beasts and birds of prey thy flesh devour.”
  David undaunted thus, “Thy spear and shield
“Shall no protection to thy body yield:
“Jehovah’s name———no other arms I bear,
“I ask no other in this glorious war.
“To-day the Lord of Hosts to me will give
“Vict’ry, to-day thy doom thou shalt receive;
“The fate you threaten shall your own become,
“And beasts shall be your animated tomb,
“That all the earth’s inhabitants may know
“That there’s a God, who governs all below:
“This great assembly too shall witness stand,
“That needs nor sword, nor spear, th’ Almighty’s
  hand:
“The battle his, the conquest he bestows,
“And to our pow’r consigns our hated foes.”
  Thus David spoke; Goliath heard and came
To meet the hero in the field of fame.
Ah! fatal meeting to thy troops and thee,
But thou wast deaf to the divine decree;
Young David meets thee, meets thee not in vain;
’Tis thine to perish on th’ ensanguin’d plain.
  And now the youth the forceful pebble slung
Philistia trembled as it whizz’d along:
In his dread forehead, where the helmet ends,
Just o’er the brows the well-aim’d stone descends,
It pierc’d the skull, and shatter’d all the brain,
Prone on his face he tumbled to the plain:
Goliath’s fall no smaller terror yields
Than riving thunders in aerial fields:
The soul still ling’red in its lov’d abode,
Till conq’ring David o’er the giant strode:
Goliath’s sword then laid its master dead,
And from the body hew’d the ghastly head;
The blood in gushing torrents drench’d the plains,
The soul found passage through the spouting veins.
  And now aloud th’ illustrious victor said,
“Where are your boastings now your champion’s
  “dead?”
Scarce had he spoke, when the Philistines fled:
But fled in vain; the conqu’ror swift pursu’d:
What scenes of slaughter! and what seas of blood!
There Saul thy thousands grasp’d th’ impurpled sand
In pangs of death the conquest of thine hand;
And David there were thy ten thousands laid:
Thus Israel’s damsels musically play’d.
  Near Gath and Edron many an hero lay,
Breath’d out their souls, and curs’d the light of day:
Their fury, quench’d by death, no longer burns,
And David with Goliath’s head returns,
To Salem brought, but in his tent he plac’d
The load of armour which the giant grac’d.
His monarch saw him coming from the war,
And thus demanded of the son of Ner.
“Say, who is this amazing youth?” he cry’d,
When thus the leader of the host reply’d;
“As lives thy soul I know not whence he sprung,
“So great in prowess though in years so young:”
“Inquire whose son is he,” the sov’reign said,
“Before whose conq’ring arm Philistia fled.”
Before the king behold the stripling stand,
Goliath’s head depending from his hand:
To him the king: “Say of what martial line
“Art thou, young hero, and what sire was thine?”
He humbly thus; “The son of Jesse I:
“I came the glories of the field to try.
“Small is my tribe, but valiant in the fight;
“Small is my city, but thy royal right.”
“Then take the promis’d gifts,” the monarch cry’d,
Conferring riches and the royal bride:
“Knit to my soul for ever thou remain
“With me, nor quit my regal roof again.”
Stu Harley Sep 2015
my Hades
my soul
where to find Jesus
ask for these
thirty shekels of gold
Brycical Jan 2013
-World's Greatest Fisherman
falls in love-

-Dinosaur corn sandwich-

-Battling babbling trapezoid mice-

-Green tea thieves are furious,
they accidentally stole Rooibos-
  
-A School Boy
shellacking shekels-

-I don't live
because I'm alive-

-Jesus on LSD sees Bob Marley-

-Something useful
becomes of this-

-A dog painted to look like
a Christmas tree drawn in the Saturday Evening Post-

-For a brief period of time,
nobody can in fact  remember which way is up-

-Same thing, only this time it happens
in the time right before Tesla was born-

-A mirror reveals what we look like
inside out, and a little bit more to the left-

-Vincent Price suddenly remembers
where he left his car keys in 1978-
CH Gorrie Jul 2012
When Brasidas took Amphipolis,
one surrendering citizen etched out
visions of the future,
the reoccurring melody,
on clay in some veranda –

*That throb from the fold to the ripple’s edge;
the flowered bank’s erosion.
The circulating noose and knife;
themes where fools wander.

A mound of nails;
where Iscariot’s shekels
buried thirteen withered stools.
it was the
summer
of 13

when a city
consumed in a
Cronut crazed
heat wave

amped
the tenderloin

slicing the underbelly
of Hell's Kitchen

packing meat for
Russian oligarchs
pouring fistfuls
of petrol rubles
down the
thirsty gullets
of glutinous
developers

their distended
bellies welling
with aching
avarice
from an
extended
stay at an
All You Can Eat
zero interest
smorgasbord
courtesy of
Uncle Sam’s Diner
somewhere off the
West End

getting fat
on the land
reclaimed
and rebuilt
on the dust
and detritus
of an expired
Great Society

Bloomie's metropolis
rising on the rubble
of razed neighborhoods....

the vertical leaps
shooting ever upward
the heady windows
framing portraits
of endless replication
offering the amenities
of the vain comfort
found in ghettos of
soulless high rises
and the billowing
gray perspective
of blanched out
street cafes
brewing $9 lattes
and big box
boutiques busy
busking the
latest rage
of sweat repelling
yoga mats and
wearable apps

America’s Mayor
Giuliani paved the way
he arrested all
the squeegee men
confiscated their Windex
dumped it down
the sewers and filled all
vacancies at Rikers

a year after Sandy
rolled up the Hudson
breaching the banks
of West Street
licking the streets
clean of urban
flotsam the
surging boom
bloomed

Bloomie bankrolled
a red carpet
for his global
fraternity of
plutocrats
unleashing a
tsunami of
shekels

washing away
the fading
memories of
Captain Sully’s
cool headed
lunch pail
heroism proving
that 727’s can
walk on water
was now passe

Lou Reed
left town
the wild side
monetized by
the belching
banality of
Urban Hipsters

millennial
babes in toy land
embarked on an endless
shopping spree
where credit limits
never expire and
giddy narcissism
greased with entitlement
orders up room service
as the next course
in this endless
movable feast

Music Selection
Philip Glass
The Hours



9/8/13
NYC
jbm
walking the High Line in NYC.....
fragment of extended poem
posted today in response to NY Times article
on the anonymous purchase of NYC high rises
by global oligarchs
http://www.thetakeaway.org/story/new-investigation-reveals-corrupt-foreign-money-flowing-us-real-estate/
"Did you ever see my esteemed Bottom Howard?
"Far more than I honestly ever cared to Sir."
Sir W, legendary thesp turned from his mirror
with a look of thunder. "And you are the most
impudent dresser and I should have rid myself
of you years ago." His hard face soon softened
as it ever did to this old servant and confidante.
"It was a Bottom to behold and no mistake" (Sir
W. laughs). A great ***'s head that my company's
darling designer did, plenty of eye space so that
acting of the enthrallment and my famous twinkle
could be seen in the gods by my public bless'em,
whose few shekels count as much to me as you
well know, as the great and the good out front."

I've seen that twinkle too much in dressing rooms
mused Howard, just put it away you effin' show-off.
"No not you Sir, not one to play to the crowds, or
to ham it up and I know it's widely said in the biz
the biggest *** and Bottom. Always a dream but
hardly ever a pain." (Howard whistles gently, trips
forward to the chair throws a cloak over those broad
shoulders for the umpteenth time) says to his boss:
"Break a leg, won't you Sir?" (meaning it).
Kuvar May 2018
This day, the grand commander refused the opened door of the corridor that exhumes National odour,
The iconic gallant lamented “good harvest is impossible with rats in the rock’
The Grand commander is right, isn’t he?
Giant rats with two legs and ***** claws caused us wounds yet to close up,
The pig fight they played us in tough dirt
let the Atlantic be a stain remover yet it won’t cleanse us
Let us take the hands of the Clock to dance the moon walk,
You see these rats are black flames in a dark room,
An illumination of appetitive explosion
Oh Clock, the thorns on your feet, can you see?
That the rich green land broke your rich green  blood,
Wait, can’t you smell a dead rat?
The beautiful rat who at a time was the pilot of the crafts
who went so far to bury legality in a pit latrine,
I guess, it smells too nice.
I am sorry oh Clock, I know you hate the moon walk,
I see they make your old wounds open to new grief
Should rats hunt rats for if rats hunt rats then who pants?
Twenty shekels of silver awaits you in twenty’ 20
Take it and let the times get sweaty *****
Oh Clock! Your prophecy talks in time
Should I seek vengeance from the grey sky?
Should the thunderstorm strike and the gullible grey hair die
Rats of bungalow minds in elevated ranks
We trust their word yet they ****** the sword
It is this organizational madness
Let me stop here before the mad dogs bite me
Every Nigerian would have that date on their head the event of a rat in our aso rock., how pathetic but I found out it is poetic. Unraveling the depth of it
Stu Harley Aug 2014
is there
a Judas
among us
the
last super
begins
with the
priceless kiss and
thirty shekels of gold
Brycical Sep 2014
Some days,
I've forgotten to laugh.
My scowl says I'm being serious
while my mind loudly whispers
you      ****       head
                    you're          such a ****          up
            watch you die            alone
because
              you          can't              do   anything

and so forth
and everything feels like I'm swallowing
porcupine barbs.

But when I talk to myself and remember
the silly goofy cuckoo bonkers
madcap absurd world I'm living in
where people care more about the environment than each other
are still arguing over whose good book is the best book
seeking to live a life like Jay-Z instead of His Holiness
paying bukoos of shekels to guys to who hit and catch ***** instead of those who teach their kids
while remaining ignorant of the stuff they're eating
I can't help but laugh then!
i don't know.
Stu Harley Dec 2023
on that last day of super
we dine with Jesus

i sat at His right hand
he always knew

that the flesh is
weak in man

He look at me again
fresh eyes journeyed into my soul

there to find the reason
for the unholy betrayal

my soul replied in broken tears
for thirty shekels of gold
Stu Harley Mar 15
on the day of
the last supper
we
break bread with Jesus

I
sat by His right hand
and he always knew

that the flesh is
weak in mankind

He looked at me again
while
fresh eyes journeyed into my soul

there to find the reason
for the unholy betrayal

then
my soul replied in broken tears
for thirty shekels of gold
Stu Harley Apr 2021
when
jealousy
envy and greed
looked into
the
ghost mirror
what
did
Judas
really see
the
soul of Jesus
being traded for
30 shekels of gold
i
stared into
Jesus's warm sacred eyes
then
i
kissed Him
upon
His right cheek
and said
that
i
shall not betray you
Stu Harley Oct 2015
at the
last
supper
where
Judas
kissed
the
right cheek of Jesus
and
promised
not to betray him
nor
give him
to
the
Roman Empire
for
thirty
shekels of gold
Arlene Corwin Sep 2017
Pull The Plastic From The Sea

Un-political, no single placard,
Expressing view through rhyme and meter,
This appeal in un-bombastic, modest ways,
It says:
We have to save the planet.

All and you have heard this
Twenty thousand – at the very least -
Repeated so that
You’ve put cotton in your ears,
Forgotten all those many years
Cliché-d, near inappropriate.

And here I sit,
The **** increasing day by day –
This final phase,
Little me in what feels pointless.

Trifling, trivial, inconsequent small
Plastic forks and plastic bags -
They can’t mean much compared to wars.  
Why get excited over bags, while cars
Of aging metal fill the holes,
Oils and chemicals **** corals;
Toxins all the rest.

Barring fishing fish for shekels,
Killing off the planet’s whales,
Slaughtering live things with scales,
Things with tails and entrails
I implore you not to put
                                     more plastic
In the growing, unavailable and sickly sea.

Pull The Plastic From The Sea 9.22.2017
Our Times, Our Culture II; Nature Of & In Reality; A Sense Of The Ridiculous II; Circling Round Nature II;
Arlene Corwin
Make this the make this the mantra of your day.
An iron-born man
In menacing manacles
Told ME I'm the prisoner
Blindly I burst into laughter
Until he said
You poor, silly goose,
Is that a tie you're wearing?
Or a noose?

These invisible chains
I can't shake loose
For my light receptors
Have been gauged out
Two silver shekels
Stuffed there in their stead
Now the man in the shackles
Gets to be the one who cackles

i'll tread the path he knows so well
For the captive learnt to love her cell
Babatunde Raimi Dec 2019
A Poem: Revolution Africa*

All hail the Lion King
King Flair Simasiku
A certified change agent
You seem calm, cool and collected
How did you overcome fear
Dining with the king of the jungle
You even spoke their language
When you say "Roar", they roar
When you say "Walk", they walk

Where is Rafiki?
Did he give you the pass code
How did you surmount the insurmountable
"This is not a small something oh"
Success is not for Lilly hearts
But brave heart like you
They said real shekels lays in their mouth
Can you help demystify this mystery?

Tell me King Simasiku
How did you overcome your fears?
How did you win their hearts?
Was Rafiki instrumental
For he is the mouthpiece of the gods
He is the most popular Monkey on earth
Plesse say a word for us

Tell us King of the Jungle
How can we posses a Lion heart
When our leaders coveted the Lion share
They **** our national assets with impunity
Tell me King Simasiku
How do we blaze the trail
Just like you did
The whole world will hear your name
Be kind, take us to your Kingdom
Far away in Namibia
From you, we seek true knowledge

You inspire us King Simasiku
We are a people suffering and smiling
But if you teach us your ways
That we might be bold as a Lion
Then we can face our fears
And make 2020 count
Just like the Eagle Fola
She already raised the bar
And you, you killed it with this exposure

Brace up for impact
This is no PowerPoint
This is no Photoshop
Not even paint or corel draw
This is reality, get close at your peril
The morale behind this
Face your fears or die trying
Even if you perish
The world will remember you
Do it not for yourself
But for your Simba
That they may enjoy tomorrow

There are Scars lurking around
But we will always run to Rafiki
The just and Only Wise One
We refuse to be manipulated
And flee to return like Simba
We will fight for the glory of Africa
And chase every Mufasa out
Wake up Africa!
The hour to liberate her has come
Just say the word my King
And we will follow
Revolution Africa!
Babatunde Raimi Sep 2019
A Poem: Bros., Wey You?*

Bros., Wey you?
I hear say your game tight
I wan hear your market
You no need to drop shekels
I just wan help you

Come make me reason
No cone form Asari for me
I no be Orpkorpise oh
Na lashing things oh
You know now!

Abeg make you do pem oh
Na white sky I go take come
Make your name dey your neck oh
Preye say you Gallant dia
Oya, make we enter yonder

Make you walensh well oh
Dem no dey use shame drink poison
I see you, I see heaven
After every don kpomkpi
Las las, we go dey alright

No worry, wetin be suya
If I want make my mouth dey busy
I go just dey blow whistle
So you no go provoke
Know say Lasgidi Erema no fit

When I finish with you
You go know say devil na area boy
Na God be Godfather
Kpata kpata na draw
Warri Erema no dey carry last

I go soon bracket you for Effurun junction
Before omuta go enter
No time to check time
This motor dey delay my destiny
I don dey reach your crib

My temper dey rise now
And I no fit use am boil rice
Afterall, no vero for maternity ward
When I work you finish
You go hear alaba

Today, he no get as he be
I go run your matter wella
I know say you go make sense
Abeg, wuna gi mi cold shack for di side
Nothing dey happen

Babatunde Raimi (c)
Author/Life Coach/Poet
betterdays Mar 2019
through the keyhole of your heart
i see the journey you have made
through deserts dry
and mountains ranges
you have travelled,
swimming in blue sea's
and muddy swollen rivers,
sleeping on beahces of sand
so golden it gleams, golden
in the early morning sun

you have laughed in the wilderness,
when there was no one to hear
cried alone and bereft
in cities so crowded, that no one heard
you have walked under
every phase of the  silent, lonely moon
and howled at the world,
your tears have watered
every continent
and your smile brought
warmth to many a cold fire place.

You have bartered,
your money, your life , your soul
and then bought them back for pennies, shekels and zots
only to give them away
to the next traveller
with a mendicant tale....

And you are home....in order to lick your wounds
in order to come to terms with those decisions
that have forshortend your allotted span
and we provide hospice and love and more
for you are our racounter,
our bard our sight
into the faraway,
the unthinkable...
the other side
you are the brave and reckless self,
we wished, we all wanted to be..

so welcome home, friend, welcome
pull up a stool and tell us a tale

as we sit in the shadows and cry at your fate
My uncle the black sheep traveller, is come home....to die of a brain tumor
Lawrence Hall Sep 2018
“So Tell me, Judas;
            Where do You See Yourself Ten Years from Now?”

Judas is an apostle on the go
Building his resume’, a better gig
Always part of his strategic focus
Going places, a young man on the move

Proactive for the Second Century
His paradigm shift of transparency
A next-generation strategy plan
In today’s competitive marketplace

Thirty Tyrian shekels; that’s the amount -
Laundered through a secret offshore account
Your ‘umble scrivener’s site is:
Reactionarydrivel.blogspot.com.
It’s not at all reactionary, tho’ it might be drivel.
Stu Harley Feb 2016
oh
how
i
weep
because
i
betrayed him
for
thirty shekels of gold
when
i set fire
to
my bother's soul
Arlene Corwin Feb 2018
Writing In The Middle Of The Night

There’s something nice about the facelessness
Of  Internet,
The anonymity you get
Despite the photos and the instant thing
You hope will ring the bell
Of those around the global ball.
A kind of secret.
You needn’t tell your thoughts,
Spell correctly,
Use our mouth, make a sound -
Just sit there typing while the world goes round.
North, south, east, west,
You’ve got all the time to test your creativity.
Believe me, it’s the best invention
Since sliced bread, the paper clip,
The toilet roll, words ‘hip’ and ‘soul’.

For people who want name and fame
It is a trip to paradise.
The price   is shekels.
What the heck, it’s only money!
And for people whose agenda is pure vanity,
A dream (both fantasy and joy).

In any case, if I may say it once again,
There’s something I appreciate
About the gate that’s opened
Through the faceless anonymity,
Potential creativity and artistry
Implicit
In the Internet.
Writing In The Middle Of The Night 2.9.2018The Processes: Creative, Thinking, Meditative; Arlene Corwin
It's great!
sandra wyllie Feb 2023
on the sun
little dots like ***** shots
blotting the sky
with a tapestry of poetry
and a side wedge of lime

Freckles
like ladybugs
on a redhead passing by
rising up to the top
like mom's homemade apple-pie

Shekels
jingling in her pant pocket
bits of silver castanets
like hand and feet
come in sets
making music to the beat
of a silhouette

Heckles
from the crowd
jeering jabs of barbed wire
can't fence in
this spitfire

Deckles
framing paper pulp into sheets
to pen the lines
of valentines that couldn't
take the heat
a name Jun 2021
she barged through the door, scaring my cat. i can hear her downstairs surging through my uncleaned mess. i forgot to clean the litter.

hey! she screamed out quietly. it sent my ears ringing.

oh hey there, i said. don't shout. i'm unarmed.

you weren't in school today. and yesterday. the whole week, in fact.

and the week before that, i reminded her.

idiot, what have you been doing

wait how did you get here i had the door locked

oh ******* come on what have you been doing?

hill climb racing. i'm almost near getting the hovercraft.

and

binging a dog and a teenager having adventures

and?

marinating

okay, get up. god, you look like a sad hairy cheeto.

and you look like a pretty girl in a catholic school uniform

shut up, she said. she smells of vanilla and burnt cooking oil

she got me out of my floor and into a cushion. twelve year old me would've been excited.

you don't just chat to me like that and expect me to take it well, you ***. especially not during friday ******* mass

sorry. i got carried away. my folks aren't here

i could tell. have you eaten

(ugh. her voice softened)

uh, no, i haven't. i had coffee. there's uhhh, there's m&m's in my bag besides the alcohol flask if you want some

okay, no, we're getting you food. god you smell like the boy's bathroom

i didn't care. i couldn't smell anything before that until she came around.

my head was ringing. coffee without breakfast is like running without shoes.

i stood up and stretched. i couldn't find my glasses; i had to wear my old ones with a cracked left lens.

she looked pretty with her untied hair and her boring grizzly sweater. there was a blotch on her sleeve.

look, my wallet is in the table below and my folks gave me enough shekels to buy greece

there's a store in the next street that sells waffles. get a tub of ice cream too and get whatever you want or something.

and you expect me to mother you?

ugh just buy the thing and take a hundred for yourself, please.

she looked ******. and tired. i recognized a glint in her eyes.

fine. take a bath.

i will.

oh and also

what?

buy beer.

ugh.

.

.

.

the rain's here.

.

.

she came back with goods. i was drying my hair.

that was quick, i said

yeah, i know, and you took a bath during that time. did you even touch soap?

come on, open up the waffles.

she handed me the shopping bag. i took her arm

hey!

sorry, i said. but it's bleeding again.

no, it's the rain.

don't even, catholic girl. it's red.

she shied away

.

.

eat the **** ice cream, she said.

.

i went downstairs. i returned with plates, utensils, a bottle opener, and gauze

come on now, i said. let's do this all over again.

she sat besides me on my bed and showed her arm. several careless wounds and bare red marks.

there's alcohol in my bag, she said.

ha, me too

she doesn't look amused.

i applied a few sprays. she winces slightly. the glint in her eyes intensify.

how recent was this?

wednesday.

and how about your other arm

she rolls her sleeve. it was uglier before.

they still think it was the dog, the teachers. at least it's not long and straight and obvious

and the other guys?

you really think they'd talk to me about this?

ha, no. of course they wouldn't.

and neither would the other girls, except they would be talking about this to each other.

i wrap her wounds with the gauze. the glint turns into a tear.

you shouldn't have been absent. the teachers are mad about it

i don't care. it's not like you and that lot liked my company anyways

yeah, you're right. you're insufferable.

i cough out a laugh. she has a sad smile.

i fix her wrap in a tight knot.

the rain stops

can we have some food now please? she blurts out. i can hear her choking her emotions

okay. just relax now. i'm sorry i messaged you like that earlier.

you better be, you ****.

and i'm sorry i made you run under the rain.

and i'm sorry i only got a single spoon.

ugh, she goes. typical.

and i'm sorry i had to see this, again.

no, i'm sorry. this isn't about me

it's not about me, either.

it's all **** out there. but i'm not letting you go home with another shard of glass, now.

okay, she said. should've bought cans, then.

heh.

.

.

.

i don't know how to finish this prose.

it's been a while since i talked to her.

though she was never online on anywhere since then.

i should have given her some scar cream.

.

.

.

.
Yenson Dec 2019
She served loyally from day one

played her part so much like a true pro

drank thirstily like all the hemlock in the urn

meted and screamed out the drill right through

earned with gusto her union stripes worn on her arm

they used her in infantile subterfuge like a pliant dough

ain't no fool in the desert of snow this stooge is sharp and warm

i'll count free shekels its survival and advantages to ease the rough

play the fools for fools for I know them well and I'll get what I want

did common sense say in Rome do as the Romans till you get enough
Call me Tony love saprano murderin' holes
Pendejos I cop those girls with the open toes
Thats the way the games flows portals
Slow ya roll gangsta rock got ya head knock
The hardest since Shaft baby this ain't a draft
Im feelin' myself since I got a clean bill of health
Resonate from rhymes I create paper crates
Stacking higher than the Empire State building
Auto yielding my pens spilling inks feelin'
Between the white sheets turns out to freak
Hypes my speech contract breech impeach
Cuz im too real to a be a leech big like Meech
Mafiaso slow blow cigars cocoa chop snows
breaths life into my mental brighten opticals
Says me says no to my critics gimmicks
Love to mimic gun play protege singin' Olè
split ya toupee cooked fish fillets cuz ***** pays
Attention to the legs whistlin' hot chicken
Seasoned hips is twitching baby girl glistening
Like water to a suns reflection collections
Of my poetry sitting on a higher degree PhD
Street graduate no matter how hard it gets
Snipe out the snake pits see me strike out corporates


Since i was a Gambino fiend for green notes
Backs rebels shekels hard to get heckled
Dot the flows leave the industry speckled
Jester to a Chester Cheetos  bold as Doritos
See me move easily suckas turning greasy
Call me Mike Beasty mics I heat to a gritty
City to city we getting good and plenty Henny
Sippin' no penny tippin' got plots to be rippin'
Jack moves improve on a mellow mood
Temptations lusting patience hesitance
Suckas wanna devils dance ****** romance
Body ****** this ain't for the perks catch a murk
Disappear like morning fog mist double hiss
Penetrate the bliss hate to kiss a risk brisk
My task once I learn how utilize Michael's mask
Point 0you sittin' at zero you an undercover 5-0
Cant play a street general learned the minerals
Mean as Patton not from the island of Staten
But these bullets will leave a permanent tatting
Like whats happening? Life recapturing spins
Thats what ya get for tryna make false moves
Needle to the groove spins my nouns smooth
Tryna reclaim the black moon bloom n ya doomed
Lyrics a caccoon
Spread the butterfly effect see my tapes wreck
On the turntable set ready set Barry injects
In ya earlobes around the globes of the abodes
postal Toads sitting like gloats on the roads
Never gloat greatness im just tryna manifest the best
Brett Mar 2021
Asleep at four
Up at half past ten
Creativity ignites the wick
Self-doubt burns it at both ends
Scrawling darkness on parchment
In hopes the tip of this pen
Will breach the cover of night

Do I struggle for shekels
Adoration and a handful of precious metals
Or to steal a smile
From the sturdy heart of my inner child
Ryan Jul 2021
Steven Streeter stole a sack of sickled lepers

he shortly sold several and was surrounded by shekels
"All right. Cut the haggling. Say you open at one shekel. I start at two thousand. We close about eighteen hundred." - monty python's life of brian

— The End —