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Paul Hardwick Oct 2015
Given up smoking
now doing one of them there
vaping things
e-cigarettes
keeping smoke clean
for all the rest of you
that complained
yes cherries in my head
are you all getting your vitamins
did not want to bring that up
but is your waste slimmer than mine
smiling here
sorry but just words.
P@ul.
Paul Hardwick Jul 2015
I love the way you do that
WHAT!
blow you vaper in my face
the sounds she sounds does my mind in
custards creams in the air
YOUR QUITE MAD YOU KNOW THAT?
I might but what the hell
lets vap
WHAT ARE YOU VAPING
Kiss for it reminds me of your lips
WHAT WOULD YOU VAP LICKING MY ****?
Rest of the poem is very personal, just finding clermizer with custard cream       >>>  P@ul.
spaghetti Apr 2016
I know a guy,
he is a friend.
Whom the cops often have to,
apprehend.
He used to do
some crazy ****.
But now he doesn't do most of it.
I know you are thinking,
who is this man.
He is a friend who drives a van.
Although not to pick up kids with treats,
he uses his ride to satisfy his needs.
Which includes dolphin collecting,
live or dead,
he's always selecting.
Vaping real hard
every single day,
is how he spends,
his hard worked pay.
His job is selling,
illegal pelts
of rare albino beavers.
He sets up traps
and waits in the bushes
with an over sized cleaver.
Stalking and waiting for the perfect catch,
he watches the ****** closely.
And right as it comes into reach,
he slits the baby's throat boldly. (baby ****** not a real baby.)
My friend makes his way to the flee market,
where he sells the pelts.
He greets his customers happily,
as the beavers hang from his belt.
Blood on his hands and pride in his eyes,
he knows he's got a great prize.
The money rolls in,
and he know it is true,
that night he will party
until his lungs are blue,
(due to the fat rips he'll be vaping)
On the weekends when he's not working,
he hops into his van,
and drives to the border,
to make sure no illegals are lurking.
Loving his country with deep passion,
my friend protects us,
with the guns he has stashed in. (his van.)
After his duty is fulfilled,
he spends the rest of his time,
all alone,
drinking gallons
of acetone.
Then in the big city
he streaks for hours,
with bags of broken glass,
that he likes to devour.
I totally agree,
my friend is insane,
and on his family,
his acts cause great pain.
Although,
he treats his slaves
with a lot of respect,
and he gives porridge to the
needy and other rejects.
He's better than me,
because I like to suffocate,
small injured birds.
And barge into restaurants,
to steal cheese curds.
But my friend is the best,
friend he can be,
as I described in this poem,
that you can see.
Unless you are blind or stupid,
or don't have anyone to read you this,
just know that my friend,
has your children in his shed,
and they'll sadly be missed.
KarenMcKinnon Jun 2018
I can't vape
I’m too addicted
to the nicotine of my youth

I thought I could
But nope
I’m not good at moderation

So a short lived experiment
into sanitized smoking
dies a quick and ***** death

goodbye vape
I wish.
Kole J McNeil Jan 2022
A tourture that breaks and distorts my mind
Every calorie cafrefully chosen
Written in a journal
Every thing ive eaten since 8th grade
No breakfast
Running out the door a weitght in my stomach
No lunch
Drinking a monster
10 more calories than I need
Vaping in the bathroom
Dinner
Dreaded dinner
I have to sit and eat with my family
No excuses
Work it off after dinner
Do I go there
Do I sit on the floor racking my lungs
I can feel the fat settle on my bones
Crying myself to sleep
Repeat
I struggle majorly with my eating. I feel like a failure if i eat over 300 calories in a day
sofolo Sep 2022
I stood over the sink
Scrubbing our negroni glasses
Wishing the ginger-scented soap
Would wash away the cancer
Because the chemo didn’t work

I was wearing eyeliner
When I first met you
We’d laugh about that later
Over a bottle of wine
And patatas bravas

We always had our weekends
Movie dates and inside jokes
We would guffaw at the
Fuckery of it all
My god your laugh
How it filled a room

I remember when you said
“I love you, Christopher…
because you just GET ME”
You expressed appreciation
For how I carved out time
For our friendship

I reminded you,
“I don’t carve out time for you,
I shove everything away while
screaming ‘I NEED MY HEIDI TIME!’”

*******.
I need my Heidi time

For years you were
The most consistent thing in my life
Always there for one another
We were each other’s touchstones
I realize this now more than ever
During my weekends spent alone

Wine tastes different now
Something’s missing
Going to the movies feels strange
It’s like the hero has
Left the frame

Remember when I smoked cigarettes?
You’d *** a drag as we crept
Through early evening traffic
On our way to get gelato
Or if we were feeling sassy
Maybe an affogato

I switched to vaping
When you went into hospice
Then back to menthols
When your spirit left this world

I’m addicted to our memories
More than the nicotine
They bang around my head
Like a song or a scent
Nostalgic  
And
Lingering

You tattooed
“CEDENDO VINCES”
On your wrists
“By yielding, you will win”
My finger traced those words
While I held your hand

Last breaths

But what are deaths?

Transitions
Energy
Shifting
A spark
Returning

/ / /

Those letters live
On my wrists now
A reminder of her
The sister I never had
And sometimes
I still hear her laugh
One of my dearest friends (read: soulfriend) left this earth three years ago today. This piece is in her memory. I love you, Heidi, my star.
nat Jan 2019
biting into a maggot filled strawberry
don't bring yr cigarettes into my house
your father always smoked
look where he is now

i don't mean to frighten you
but i sort of do
i'm all alone here most of the time
and you don't ******* care that i still wait for you

cigarettes will make your skin bleed
a drug addiction will be the death of me
dig your grave before the sun goes down
but i don't want you to leave me, darling
#smoking #weird #blood #love #hate #strawberry #cigarettes
mjad Nov 2018
Of all the fun Ive ever had
Almost all I've never told you
From vaping in the car
To drinking in my friends basement bar
Almost all I've never told you
Nearly crashing a car
Kissing strangers just for fun
Smelling like **** a ton
Sneaking out to a friend's wedding
To seeing the cops pull up and dreading
You hearing about all the fun I've had that I've never told you
But you never knew, never found out about
The times I don't want to forget
You don't know about them yet
And my only regret out of all of it
Is that I can't tell you one bit
Part 2 to "Fun"
Arya Mar 2017
Given up smoking
Now doing vaping
So goodbye to the old comforts
And to the lines plugged in my walls
Where smoking's not the same
It's kinda a vaped dream
Without the daze
Of evil ways up yesterday.

#vapeon #switching
Stop Vaping

skip the beat with robotic meat your turn with vapor power
pouring out for a great cause eager to alarm just for you in papal pew
light upon light for a certain right caged in the fight your caption went
learn softly in the timidity;
time is cut short to project the report
shallow pools resort

Stop your vaping to know you have been faking
peril smoked chicken was dizzy in the making
Stop the vape
Stop the vape
out of the corner of your eye

you threw up in your mouth
cash to start
who are you kidding ?
Denxai Mcmillon Aug 2015
I remember the jaw dropping moment of you walking into creative writing for the first time.

I remember passing notes daily

I remember the first time we went downtown with our drunkard friend.

I remember sitting in the cold in front of the pond and listening to you ramble.

I remember how happy I was.

I remember how hard I tried to impress you.

I remember it all like it was yesterday.

I remember you going missing from class.

I still remember the stomach churning worry that came with it.

I remember you coming back just to leave again

I remember the years we didn't talk. They were lonely.

I remember seeing you go the first time in forever.

I remember sitting in that swing and holding back tears as I confided in you about how sad I was.

I remember the absence of you again.

I remember sitting at the bus stop talking to you before I had to work.

I remember the night you had a small get together and invited me.

I remember how hard I smiled for the first time in years.

I remember coming over and spending the night with you.

I remember the ****** tension.

I remember laying in bed and inching closer.

I remember how cold your lips were when I kissed you for the first time.

I remember rolling around in bed naked and taking candid pictures of one another.

I remember being officially unofficial.

I remember walking to and fro my house to yours.

I remember you playing guitar.

I remember vaping until we were dizzy.

I remember you getting the text from your ex

I remember losing you to your ex

I remember the devastation.

I remember still seeing you daily.

I remember how awkward it was.

I remember you telling me you wanted to be with me.

I remember then running to meet you half way.

I remember hugging you as if to pull you into my body.

I remember him losing his spot by your side.

I remember fighting.

I remember hating it.

I remember still seeing you and talking things out.

I remember kissing late into the night.

God I remember so much.

I remember going downtown with Dessi.

I remember realizing how deeply I love you.

I remember the pain of missing a night by your side, it's like a bruise on the bottom of my foot.

I remember all the days I spent keeping you company  at work.

I remember getting pulled over with you in the car.

I remember the look of dread.

I remember with no regrets.

I remember your smell from 4500 miles away.

I will remember and cherish every second we spend at one another's side.

And with all these memories behind us in such short time

I know that when I turn my head back to watch my steps I'll see all we have to look foreword to.
Lydeen Jan 2019
Breathing out a cotton candy cloud,
Vaping to slowly **** myself.
It's subtle,
Plus I always smell good.
Sliding my thumb across my blade to bring a bit of sharpness back to this dull dull life.
Chewing my lips until they're bruised and bleeding.
Laying back in the tub as the water slowly slowly slowly covers my face.
Sitting up gasping for breath.
I know I'm bi.
My dad will **** me when he finds out his baby girls kissed another girl.
Oh well.
Laying in the snow until my senses burn,
Clarity.
Staying up all night just to make myself feel alive.
Spiraling spiraling spiraling.
Out of control.
Chameleon Dec 2018
He came over when I got off work and kissed me on the cheek.
He took me out to lunch and held my hand in Wal-Mart before buying me a pair of work out shoes.
I smoked my last cigarette in a pack this morning and have only been vaping since.
I fell asleep cuddled next to him on the couch and when I woke up we had ***.
For dinner he made me a "disgusting" smoothie with blueberries, strawberries, broccoli, kale, green tea, and a few other things I didn't recognize.
And then I went to work and kissed him before leaving him in my apartment.
It's so strangely nice and he's been such a good influence on me it feels like I'm watching someone else's life.
I am tired, but I think I'm actually happy
Marie-Niege Apr 2016
i am certain that i am going to die young and no this isn't one of my cries for help or bargain-ed pleas, you all will-i-am certain- miss that years and years from now. i still have myselves in all of you, every ounce of me does not belong to me. i am in ownership of nothing but the curls of my eyelashes and the frame they allow me to recreate. this is simply my attempt at a lightly humored poem, but I am certain I am going to die young, very young almost too young to remember the day I was born and thus, first deceived and devirginized, even before my first steps on clay coated sand and became a constantly budding plant with razor bladed sides and a thirsty black vaping hole between my legs but Liberia ruined me with it's talk of this ******* thing called womanhood same as they brought me thought and thought again to salvation, i am certain i am going to die just like many thought i've never lived a single day in my life, I am certain,
I am certain, I am certain.
I am. i am. just not tonight
kailee Nov 2018
2018
kids vaping
**** victims increasing
I.Q.'s lowering
kidnapping increasing
doing stupid **** is a trend
J Apr 2021
I shed a skin
a simple man's skin
with freckles kissed onto tan skin
full of codependency
lust
unhealthy obsessions.
I parted ways with my girlfriend
I didn't deserve the things that she made me feel
I didn't deserve to hurt that way that she made me hurt
I thought about suicide,
Almost attempted a few times
Got into the habit of vaping
of smoking
Wrote on bathroom walls about suicide,
got caught,
the mental hospital was threatened three times, and
I should have gone
but it's senior year,
I need to be able to get through this year
and then it will all be better
right?
Band contest, Prom, Senior trip, graduation.
I have to go.
So
Now I'm taking medicine for my depression/anxiety, bpd/bipolarity, and insomnia
I'm going to get better, I'm going to get through this.
I'm going to be happy.
I'm going to be better.
simple. not in the mood for deep words or anything. might edit later who knows. I made this on the 13th but it just sat in my drafts. it's funny that it was posted today because she called me.
Vernarth says: “Nocturnal mutism, nocturnal stuttering, goes from the fragile phrasing, peripheral phrase, hovering last word, where my loudspeaker hits, dissonant Sagittarius, I must prepare my denarius, not but, beforehand, cheers of hope to Zion, who among the bush of the millionaire wind that travels from Pluto to Mercury, each day that we map ourselves, trying to be more earth than in its own flowering. Paradiso Omega, nap of the oldest dream, adobe path. My  to fly Anne genuflects her heart towards Mariah from Heaven, in the title of hundreds of throats and gargles of the pyogenic sediment rambling. Oh so long night!, so clear firmament born of the fallen ether of the great Heaven so clear and enlightening Compass 37 on the quilt of God, three by three towards one, linking above the easy pit and dreams, dying Paradiso, Agonizing Horcondising, a fragile mass disoriented, discouraged, with numeral letters and quadruple letters, stone after stone of forage falling on the cinnabar sky "

Joshua de Piedra from the high pinnacle exclaimed…: “Stone after stone in its correction is born of a new silence eternal bond. It eats it during the day, it eats at night, just like the galaxies licking the frivolous awakening from a starless night, but being the substance of stars liquefied with a whip. Pilgrimage or Path of the Cross, on the stony ground of Uncle Hugh's house, in the other similar, my Anne's house, further on in the hidden and clayey chaos, the last Indigenous in Western clothing, working and stuffing the wells with green size, distributing alms for his apprentices, I keep looking from the high hill earlier. Kaitelka the whale and a Dwarf Leviathan; steward of the unnameable, perhaps of an unknown Cyprian squirrel censoring Noah in his animals empowered to tell him about a magnificent episode.  Each species balancing its essence to make the most grandiloquent dossier in the world, to join them and value them towards the unknown peasant world. The big apple to go, with its tailcoat worms, well dressed and united by the march of the rock sentinel Evangelus. Kaitelca alpha and omega cetacean, fluffy with bast for all the most lost seas of the watery world. She so down cetacean, she throws herself into the sea in fears in this gloomy space, exhausted warehouse, lifesaver between lives of lives, like wishes without delay, to beat the divergent period, falling on the flat ceiling. Enter to sail through the mud of Iodine, of this great Parnassus of all iodine, the Messiah was squeezing his robe of love all over the upper margin of the face, Jesus light, loving great pilgrims who helped me to urbanize the skeleton of this great demolition, of a great geyser on its oceanic back, distributing gifts through the tangled brow of the Horcón and Cantillana massif.  Freshwater meringue, fluffy flowers, incense, fuchsias, and Calypso smoke migrating from house to house in Sudpichi.  Adelimpia, holding the cord of the axis of the fatigued planet, Queen Anne restored the acute respiratory meridians, which moved her heart from the sinister side encompassed, cursed globe moving to another galaxy towards its 9600 years of expansion. The stumbling of the sun's rays, crowded on the back of the Jacinta, which multiplied on her bank of meek ideas, to reside above all the assemblages of millions of benefits, since the world is an improper world. The world has no end, God is a beautiful mute world, where we make mistakes every day believing that we are ..., being less true. Rather, we are the waste of the almost noise that tried to leave us as a legacy of the first noise of creation that was felt wandering, perhaps it was its breathing, of its lipped wise crater, in the most irresistible protoforms, devoutly preparing turgid liquids for driving through every dinner, without stars tasting their multi-polygonal sandwiches. Memory is a raging waste, every time we try to get to lick his honey-like him, we run out of a famished minute of life not lived”

Says the spirit Leiak:

“Without a doubt, without drooling, without Buddha… the tendrils of the universe flamed, like rolling pickets within his hearing sea ear.  Striped with wounded marks in zigzag, by the middle row between the unarmed infidels.  Filled with the greatest amazement, massacred with laughter riddled with the non-shining meteor. From temple to temple, without Buddha close to him, he continues lost on the path of valleys among several, by the waves of chimneys like the snout of a mastiff with typhus, infected badly that detonates a thousand times, circular or macrocosmic chemistry in submissive grounds, to drink, where no one is wrong. Pendency of the lymphatic jellyfish, among the meek otolith of Kaitelka, almost deaf, of so many prayers of impious savages to hunt her ..., she continues begging for mercy as a species, she shakes and shakes as if eliminating the supposed flea jellyfish in whirlwinds of babies in her ears of children's stories. Anne came out of her basket as if she had been picked up from the Nile, but in reality, she was close to Chocalan, Popeta, or Polulo, lit up like coal from a steppe oven. I continued walking shirtless on an insomniac night, waiting in the decimals of the full moon, some indebted Solaris of the evangelist, in a space that slowly locked the crooked tongue of sleep, locked by the treacherous luck of doubt. Plague and doubt, plague and nail, which opens the vast sea, unsanitary radio, from the messianic ****** of the muses to Botticelli blaspheming. Anne, a diva of the division of past lives, does not die in misapplication against all odds like a thousand sperms of an ensign, making her stipends simple, to buy sensitive chaste little flowers in suitcases of her super-saucy folds ..., there is no probing look similar to the ocean Cousteau's journey, through which the lost retina drains, lies the selective gaze, covered by the Guardian, who looks before the denigrated sap unfolds, which wears away scarlet fever, the gaze of substance, in front of thousands of sayings, plagiarizing Tramontane rumors "

Queen Anne rolls up her sleeves, collects ashes from the ill-fated victims sifted, by the tobacco, a very good service from the fumes of venerable lost in disbelief, this painting becomes vague and with a sordid diametric image and silent cataclysm. The confine of evil godson in a duo and verse of the Universe, of the concrete displaced with pieces of the tobacco, has been spoiled. Joshua de Piedra with filings in his stomach was with hundreds of particles tickling the metaverse on the beards of extraterrestrial comets. Heaven and Hell, interrupted sleep, fatal nap, draconian wind, Ultrasensitive Glory of austere forces, as long as you are alive, you are prey to it. Ignorance continues to spend the night in the empty vapors of the valley of chaos, duels of masses of sleeping consciences underlying the erosive *****, Queen Anne, is gathered at a gallop by Joshua de Piedra, blindfolds him so that he does not numb more body incense and set on a spring flower. By the knees, they are incinerated, but sometimes they are half-burned, burning like incense with Joshua in reversible adulation, of the rawest exquisiteness of essence of escapes of blossoming in chains, with the drama of carcinoma petals in anti-carcinoma times and of eternal life external. At the Post Office, the postman envelopes the new vignettes, new gardens of relevant highlights. The friend Joshua links the trough of flames escaping from his domain, at a faster pace for other readings, varying in shreds of first-time, delineating, and walking breaths that are lost in the misty vividness.

Says Leiak: “After making a round, Adelimpia with Hugh and Bernardolipo, restart their adventure, almost at the top of the Horcondising massif, collecting riches from between stranded galleys, and vaults dragged by the cataclysm towards this consistent mountainous ..., The amounts of coins from different origins were countless, from all those wealthy who stole from all their belongings, the tainted and intrepid wisdom, getting rid of everything before confronting the thunderous flashes of the Guardian, to subtract intelligent action from the oppressive limit in maintaining the Gnostic parallel. Adelimpia saw how the thousands of nausea cleaned themselves, before liquids and gastric ills, of which they are the bad residences, deciding to die acidly or spiritually towards an alkaline light.  Karmic oppression, anhydrous bubbles, carbonating every breathing capsule of compassionate life. Every day there is more foul-smelling hunger in men of acid rust, for the good spirits of the dipsomaniac in the diet of the most lost undefeated blind, a universal record of walking impoverished at the end of his objectivity. Adelimpia…., And Carmina; maiden of the extravagant silence is linked to the ox Xenon, master of his pumpkin ox, collects bubbling fragments from their stomachs of acid and fragmented, with unfortunate applicants to obtain him, all of them exalted before his prayers, as well as that fleece that the other possessed ox; Cricket that was grazing in the radiant spaces of the grasslands, ruminating lost ties for the good of all and being able to observe in the distance going beyond all sensitive imagination, being me Leiak, the spirit of Vernarth who looks over where he does not it does, sometimes incomprehensibly because of its purging. "

Joshua de Piedra says: “Horcondising, land of Spa, of beautification to correct your beautiful osteological inhabitant, your beautiful pro-lieutenant inhabitant, I believed that wealth would flow from my hands to finance my own poverty. Horcondising, is my nurse Luz, tracing with her blood the route of the Talami reign, everything continues without direction, the lustrín lost his paste of ruby cream and powders, of the conductor who governs their destinies in my hands ..., and it is required. Horcondising, badly and fearfully I say genuflected, here are my riches, but I swear by the most sacred, that I never thought I was so poor at the same time, in the presence of the almighty. Karmic planet, you come like bread and honey from a dazzled bee, you come to fill us with light through the horns of the cat, mounted on the back of the rooster, mounted on the roan bovine. Horcondising ... What a memory! When I was running fast through good waters and Sudpichi, I saw in line some swindlers in uncertain Faith, loudly dismantling the stunning consciousness of possessing without letting those who do not have know, and what it is to lack, what is the love of the slightest doubled second, until it brings honey and milk to the mouth of the beggar and with new clothes, around the circular saffron, the light of isolation and God's judgment on Hommo Sapiens. Baba, Vrja Ananda, I know that to ascend you have to put clean, white clothes on the wind, lavender with druid purple and stuffed on the petioles that fell on the stumpy back of the little elephant. I never got tired, I always laughed and the manly wind stretched my cheeks of purple roses, to laugh at the feminine world like a new man being born from the darkness of loneliness, in a new man, with a new life, in a deranged valley of Solitude, gaseous, ulcerative and asphaltic soil, of Horcondising, in the blaze of a fierce virtuous lantern ..., lying with its lost light on the rich and poor, entangled in resin from a hopper and a villain with feet tired from walking. As immeasurable to act I continue, although there is too much, among which nothing was ever forbidden from an ominous advance. But more awaits me, whoever wants numb oppressive anti-libertarian oppression, I will continue to ruin myself after this world, in the jaws of the rogue armchair of emptiness, with strong and pious prayer, strong and pious karmic augury to ruin the ruffian, that he holds and looks at you like a kitchen log in his dispensary. Karma comes to without and are, with are without are, with dream sounds, hallucinated sounds to realize the truth of accuracy. I have no vocabulary when I am hungry or thirsty for Faith or equanimity, but rather, more than all the power of the high massif to fall on the despotic ripper and cutthroat, accursed beings of the night darkness! I decree worse evil than all the bad curses to which it provokes by a glance, and stuns you like an ant in the fragrant countryside. Karma, baba nam kevalam, anti-karmic, to anyone who doubles your life, to **** you more than three times, without falling into the arms of Forgione or a Buddhist Monk tired of getting tired, self-love and improper Karma from now on everyone and all who with their deeds and gaze invade them with disloyal flatteries and evils, the true triumph of Truth and Equality so that it is equal to all resigned, looking less like the worldly offering of goodness, but rather bad at last of counts. Francesco, are you coming right...? Here I wait for you, low-cut I will also get in line to be supplanted. My story will be vital and oppressive, full of capital, anti-charitable because I have never been able to understand it. I know that powerful affiliations will come, and I will be in your lap, and all those who process your consummation and death will fall, a bad omen of their whim like any piece. Force the spirit that outside is evil, always yours, Master...! I am going, I am going, each one who looks at me as his prey will have to govern and feed him, for better or for worse, and otherwise, I will be eternally burned along with all his progeny in the Horcondising. "


So Joshua spoke when making a wooden whistle. He cut his index finger with transparent grease, and saw a viscous bleeding liquid fall into the constant complaint, from each head of frustrated saboteurs, and mercilessly squandered by those who aim at you every day to finish you and beg your entire eternal psychic substance, without Numbers or paternal letters, Vernarth and the Hexagonal Birthright, attended with great enthusiasm this regression, knowing that he was in their nation and domains where their mythological beings accompanied them beyond all vision. They all remain normal; doing everyday things, but Vernarth's voice accompanied them from an altar in a vivid voice and with great clarity in the voice that expressed their pilgrimage.

Vernath says with an infernal tone: “The Horcondising rack runs out of people benches, to attend to their requests the sky has become convex and unattended, to walk down the fragile plateau crouching down, weightless trees rub their bruised roots on the scrubbed Living spirits over each parlor, each present master along with his present consort seemed like perfect strangers, each separated by name in their new and uncertain divided destiny. All by putting the hand where the ulcer makes intermittent unhealthy purulence, on whether we are and correspond what we are or those who manage to have in this twisted life without a surplus, and what would it be if we had surplus ...? Rows of speakers and auditors are compressed, trying to want to be understood, but the words are keys and conclaves of high architecture sifted, of the wild despair in which we are beasts escaping from an eternal safari of thunder and cannon, vaping fumaroles of ancestry and drinking Bourbon to the thunder of the steely ***** on the orphanage of looming. Here Fray Andresito unfolds his body, you know it here is…! Right here he aimed at the weakest, the strongest, perhaps being a slave. What a difficult word to define... This cell without adjoining limits, called Atman, or female soul engendering another female soul, in the arms of the sorcerer, whose packaging and the serial knot would be made by a novice, who did not know if it was tightly closed, so as not to know if it would be fine in the future and reopen it with light in Gandhi's eyes, or by a child in care appointments without his arms to approach his mother cradle, perhaps being ivy or algae that sway his breaths vain…, from the flickering of the dotted throbbing of the Sun in flight through the lost night of the altarpiece, putting silicone because it comes out of the picture. Today a being was born in the arms of the almighty, a being anointed in the placenta of golden liquid and augrum, filling everyone and everyone leaving them speechless… ”.

Its ancestry of eternal way comes from mutual funds, equivalent prices in promoting values, on falls and rises, in franc growth, and various financial statements to beat dividends. The lines of people obediently migrated to the Horcondising, they never thought that they would be a great family, all in chains of multicolored and endless shapes, all in the high mountain at more than three thousand meters, and no higher, because in this Age again life, I cannot count more than thousands, in which the hundreds stay up late every day on this streetcar called the alliance. Branches of salty puree and ammonite soups with coriander, in the transversal valleys, to the southeast, with verve envelopes and their large moral excess on their backs and their hope of leaving all their treasures on the sidelines, before entering the muddy showers. when swarming with turbulent regrets and losing all ego money, highlighting a new epidermis, with an unprotected but opulent soul. Each being devoid of the word and thought, was trans walking through the heavenly ranks, with buzzing in their hearing aids attenuated and a smelly shanghai screeching, nothing would be left to pour into the channels near the almighty, the one who picked them up from the ground satin in some small sulfur coins and bleeding hollow, nothing will charge to their accounts or in their excess pride, only white skin in dark skin, and dark turning to dawn gray dermis, for exclusiveness, only lost in the jungle of ignorance shipwrecked tundra. Grandmother Adelimpia cleaned with sweepers and pine feather dusters, wormwood trunk and molle, and with the ceiling. My Anne, swept the flat floor with her wedding dress, years ago seasoned ..., Hugh and Bernardolipo laced some wines pigeonholed in the devil's segment, so as not to lose track of the high hill, which could be seen falling on the witnesses of the fallen Calvary Before the world ends for many, but not for the Huasos. The auction continued; Anne still had an end-of-the-world fever, with so many degrees…. Don't worry Anne, a Mapu aboriginal boy; the one with the sinister ..., brings a good herb to improve you, it is said that he comes from less to more, with his face like a beautiful farm landscape, stream water that quiets fevers and ills of charm. Have faith, says the elder Sylph Angelita Huenuman, reborn to Anne…: “The bark of that oak will be demolished and crumbled to cover you from evil and worse evil charm. Tomorrow on the high snow-covered peak, sweet cakes will fall steamed with berries and flavored almonds in your Word, which always deserves to smile to the limit, you are the omega star stele that will know how to smile, you will see it just like your Joshua de Piedra; which is an eternal incense of ruse, you will be dressed as a coco channel between aromas of eternity like spring light and first communion, between your snowy new garland of sap and in which you are always like a web-footed dreamy bird, moving away from the Aculeo lagoon, away from the giant hermit emerging from a nucleus of water and its pool, sobbing on each step of lake light of ascending sketch and of a lagoon avoiding new despised damage "
Alpha Day, Alpha Night, Omega Day Omega Night
Viseract Jun 2016
I remember a time when I felt happy
Waking up everyday was a new adventure
Some people would say things behind my back,
But I didn't care

I just carried on

I would stroll leisurely into the classroom,
Take off my shoes at the door because I picked at them
Sit down at my desk, right at the front because I couldn't focus sitting next to anyone

And just carried on

I would pick my spiky, plastic ball off of the desk I sat at,
Constantly fidget with it, resist the urge to place it in my mouth
And bite off the spikes, feel satisfaction. Sometimes I could resist.
Other times I couldn't, but I didn't care

I just carried on

That was back when I was in Year Four, in a class filled with students
Who, despite not knowing the word ***** would be one anyways
Only admiring me for my intellect, like when I suggested the word Bioluminescence as a favourite word and the teacher thought it wasn't even a word, because surely I was too young to know it?

Somehow, I carried on

Now, looking back on those days I ask myself,
When did my strength fade? The world become grey?
How can someone so innocent, so lonely, so... weak,
Be so strong and resistant?

How did I be me, and manage to carry on?

When nowadays I am constantly suppressed by society,
I can't be me without being called a ******, a loser,
Loner and so ****** up that surely I'm a stoner?

Doesn't matter that I hate drugs, my "friends" do drugs,
Smoke **** and make fun of me because I don't,
That God forbid I'm clean, don't **** with that ****,
Never will and never have, but this means that they can be mean?

How have I carried on, for so long, falling prey to those call me friend
And fade away faster than the light of day whilst vaping it up,
Faded as ****,
When all along I believed I wasn't strong?

I look at them and see no hope, no future
Not for me in that direction, at least
And I've told them time and again
That it's so ******* wrong, that there will come a time when hitting up the **** won't carry you further along anymore

There will be a time when they will fail to carry on

Maybe I still got some of me left in me
There's more on the inside than what the eye can see
Believe in myself, listen to no-one else and honestly?

I truly believe I still have the strength to carry on
Bit of slam poetry for you there, my first attempt
juno May 2020
whats so enjoyable about it?

maybe ill try it out someday.
Man Dec 2020
i can barely keep my eyes opening
listening to everyone whine about inane ****
that they'll do really nothing to change
are you really going to quit vaping?
really?
stop your drinking?
finally get "in-shape?"
what's this years resolution?
guess what man, i don't ******* care
keep it to yourself, i could give a ****
do something for others
selfish *****
Hope Santa kicks it.
Anais Vionet Mar 20
(There’s a song for this: ‘Confessions’ by Sudan Archives)

I remember it like it was yesterday (it was yesterday).

I arrived on a cool (42°f), blindingly sunny New Haven afternoon. It was as if they’d opened up that troubling ozone hole just for me.
I was as happy as I’ve ever been to be back. It was as if New Haven actually meant freedom.

I’d opened the door to our suite, dragging every bag I own.
After intense hugs, I'd said, “PIZZA - NOW.”
So, Lisa, Sunny and I, after some debate, selected Town Pizza.
Town Pizza’s specialties are those thin, gourmet pies with crust-free cauliflower crust, oil (not environmentally problematic tomatoes), topped with panda cheese and tofu.
In a shocking development, I got the cheeseburger special which I hit like a vape. †

SO, the three of us were there, happily devouring. Not bothering anyone, when this guy stopped at our table to offer us salvation and introduce us to - whatever (yadda yadda yadda)

I didn’t catch the entire pitch; I may have momentarily dozed off.
“No, Thank you.” Lisa said, politely but dismissively.
Not taking the hint, he reached into his cheap shoulder bag for pamphlets and began a new tac.
“Go away.” Sunny said, unblinkingly, but he jabbered on, showing the unaware persistence of long covid - like we were interested or tolerant.

“I’ll show you my bra if you’ll shut up,” I said, with my best deadpan face. Lisa and Sunny shrieked with several kinds of outraged laughter.
He became a statue, like a Twilight Zone episode where time stops for one person. A second passed during which he didn’t blink or breathe. “eheheheheheheh* I toned, like a buzzer.
“Two late!” I gameshow said, shrugging, “You didn’t verbally accept, sorry, I don’t make the rules.”
He shook his head and walked away—with Lisa and Sunny giggling and waving him off stage.
Our mission was accomplished. We’d defended our water hole like lionesses.

A few minutes later Lisa said, “He DID shut up, I’m not in law school, but I think you owe him a flashing.”
“I guess he wasn’t in law school either.” Sunny observed, between bites.
“I’m taking this to the supreme court,” I promised.
“How did the supreme court get to decide every ******-little thing?” Lisa asked, biting her abomination flavored pizza.
.
.
slang and notes…
devouring = eating like barnyard animals
Twilight Zone = More, so much more, than the most creative moment in man’s evolution. *
panda cheese = Ok, I made that up because it sounded gross.
† the author, in no way, endorses vaping, vape-related consumables or accessories
BLT Merriam Webster word of the day challenge: ******: considered cheap and distasteful

*our cast*:
Lisa, (roommate) 20, grew up in a posh 50th floor walk-up on Central Park South, Manhattan. She shares my major (Molecular biophysics and biochemistry) and is easily the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen in person (and she’s sensitive about it). Our tastes match, in everything (fashion, media, music, humor) except men.

Sunny, (suitemate) 20, is from Nebraska, she’s a cowgirl (seriously, she has a quarter horse and barrel races). She’s an outspoken fem-facing ladies-lady whose life is an endless parade of ‘sleepovers.’ Sunny always knows all the best gossip and she’s somehow befriended all the professors.
We used to be twenty
sitting around complaining
and smoking
like twenty year olds do.

Now we're thirty
sitting around complaining
and vaping
like twenty years olds do.
Brandi the Brave Jul 2021
Hierarchy implies there is an established ranking system.
Anarchy implies we live in a dystopian world.
Would if both perspectives are right? Elaborate with me if you will.
Traditionalism is a way of ranking people by values. Militarism is a way to rank people by status. Therefore the status quote is a mixture of traditionalism and militarism. Vaping give people wet lung disease at the worst and Smoking causes lung cancer so in a way buying into consumerism we are drugging ourselves to an oblivion.
Drinking is a way to stimulate happiness but it doesn't get rid of depression.
Crystal ball mirror mirrors on the wall who's the flyest of them all's?
My bars stand tall y'all leaning like lisa cracked smiles
More foul than gomer Pyle could a run a thousand miles
Without breaking a sweat guns is flexed for stretching pecs
Inject the cold collect watch the checks cashed with ***
****** slouchers end up with ****** vouchers I'll stout ya
Statue stature before and after craft shed a beautiful blood baths
Paths of a golden wrath suckas loosing grips over halves
Sick with these bars G grouchy as oscar escapes like Escar
Stacks an empire underground Cae'sar none could par
Shadow of a super star ultimate words sticking like tar'
Zan jungle book bear clippin' necessities nipsy
Hustle til its a broken gristle since these cowards whistle
Morning birds chirps this ain't an excerpt lucid concert
Back in ya dreams stings like a controlled demon ring
Yo I'm a real man with methods bodies go red man
Once I wave the cannon fanning at ya church sanding
All these silly ***** knevil with the blunt pulling mad stunts
Checki itt!!?


All It took was a dollar and a dream visions of the unseen
Tunnel visions of green flashing over the braille peen
Activate the state of an insane grace stacks to a Chase
Manhattan chilling with villians records going platinum
**** an album freestyle drills til my women her legs feel
Vibration cultural sky crapping as the city vaping creating
An atmosphere don legend sitting here flows a comet spear
Disappear only to reappear mirage summer Minaj collage
Rhymes to beats hypes the freaks of a speech under the sheets
I'm hitting til it's goes soft get ya head out the guttas stutter
Hataz bring em back to the status of an incubator state a
Brother with the rawest tendency more mellows than Quincy
Jones alone I hold this mic like it's Solomons throne clones
Love to go for a jocking I'm socking the industry til it's popping
None stopping gotta keep it tight turn a ****-Neo leftist from an alt-right
Dangerous with these pedigrees ask Albert Pike
Sike awakening the dead with the stench of my spike
Verbal sorcery pyromancy who wanna chance me
I'm chilling like Tut golden snake hat with a raw batch
Choke the mics throat air out the smoke of fires wrote
Don't let the sleeping lion get poked only to provoke
An uproar ramping from city to city high voltage cranked energy
Check it!!!
Mateuš Conrad Jun 2022
that's the beauty of music: music will never lie to you... music can't lie to you... when Thundercat was supporting Red Hot Chilly Peppers i tried to think: please make this sound as vanguard as Miles Davis' ******* Brew... please please... nope... can't stomach this stuff... music can't lie to you... just like today... i was surrounded by people who genuinely enjoyed Ed Sheeran... me? i tried not to yawn... but i was... yawning with my mouth closed... i could only pick out two songs i really liked... SHIVERS and... before today: i wouldn't have guessed it... but Ed started explaining that his first success was more as a song-writer than a musician / entertainer... i would have never guessed that he wrote the song LOVE YOURSELF for Justin Bieber... maybe that's what was so weird... because i love the song... maybe that's why i didn't mind Justin Bieber singing it... because it was actually written by Ed... but that's it... two songs... music will never lie to you... music is the highest authenticity know to man... thank god i'm not a musician... but i was just standing there... indifferent... a fellow steward looked at me and tried to make me smile by putting his fingers into his cheeks and create a pristine imitation Joker... no... i'm not going to smile... so i stood there... buried my face in my folded hand as if to recreate an imitation of awe: pretending to smile with my eyes... music can't lie to you... it's a one man show... i'm more of a band guy... i like a lot more commotion on stage... the backwards and forwards between, say... Flea... Mr. Frusciante and Chuck... i love the idea of sharing a "burden"... music will never lie to you... that's why i'm not sitting down and trying to enjoy at least two hours of music i really like... KORTEZ... because i hate the idea of being indifferent to music...

sitting here at 2am, drinking the finest bourbon and
looking for the moon...
left the house at 9am and only got back home
after 1am:

i was so lucky getting back... caught the Metropolitan
line to Liverpool St and was sitting on
a train on platform 7 trying to understand my luck:

the 12:15am train to Southend Victoria...
    wow! it's stopping at Romford... usually these trains
only stop at Shenfield...
i usually have to slug it on a train that stops
on all the stops in between Liverpool St. and Romford:
Maryland, Forrest Gate, Manor Park,
Ilford, Seven Kings, Goodmayes... Chadwell Heath...
15 minutes later and i was eating a chicken wrap
and drinking a can of 7up... having to only wait
5 minutes for the 175 bus home...

now i need to relax after all the thrills of working
the Ed Sheeran gig...
      i need something completely different musically...
i don't regret choosing to do the London Stadium
shifts... with the Red Hot Chilly Peppers...
   hmm... Ed Sheeran live...
                  one man on a rotating stage in the middle
of the Wembley pitch...
    one man on stage...
                  you could say Pavarotti was also but a single
man on stage...

i don't know... oh sure: he was amazing...
   a sort of jack-in-a-box... but...
                        i don't think a single man can generate
the same sort of energy as a band...
it's a sort of yes and no answer... it's just so different
and it's so not so different...
                          
any diaspora of people around the world:
whether these be Somalis in England...
      Italians in England and America...
           the Hebrews pretty much everywhere...
i don't know how i managed to keep with
the cultural output from Poland...
           but there's a very decent alternative to someone
like Ed Sheeren: after all... he can be exported
to places like Poland... France...
     English universalism...
                       which is very real...
  
but? someone like KORTEZ? he couldn't be exported
out of Poland and become popular in England:
as much as there is an English universalism:
all other cultures are particular: there's a particularism
about them...
    i'm guessing of the language:
                        the Lingua Franca of the medieval
times Lingua Inglese of the modern times...

but songs by KORTEZ like: Z IMBIREM (with ginger)
   LUDZIE Z LODU (people from ice)...
BUMERANG (boomerang)...
HEJ WY (hey you)...
                              KOMINY (chimneys)...
                  
and all these songs live...

to be honest: the lyricism of the former is something for
teenager girls... maybe that's why i was sort of put off...
i need smart lyrics as i need good music:
but lyricism in English will hardly convey complexity
that a man could appreciate:
beside Peter Sinfield...

well... i might be living in Poland but i'm still
trying to keep up with the culture...
       because the politics doesn't interest me as much:
i know pretty much that there's an aspect of
a Japanese isolationism...
                     although: like the Mandarin Wall
of ideograms... the accurate phonetic-cutting
                          of words in ****** or the English
joke: too many consonants...

ha... szczerość... honestly...
                 Щero-
                       fair enough... i could almost create
a letter out of -ść since enough words end with these
two letters... like plenty begin with SZCZ (SHCH): Щ...
              
well... i'm not going to invest the equivalent Cyrillic:
impasse...

what made the shift a bit easier was having spent
most of it: up to 9pm talking and joking with a Somali...
women, life, drugs, work...
      work, drug, life, women...
ideas such as: i couldn't a Somali woman living
in England... that's why i married a traditional woman
in Somalia... she's living there with my two daughters...
Somali men who marry Somali women living
in the West: 5 years! 7! they're divorced...
because the women want to go out and party...
he's thinking about bringing her over...
       i think he's waiting for the 7 year itch to be
perfectly established...
******* Somali pirate... but i have to admit...
Somalis have the most infectious smiles...
the whole lot of them...
     a Muslim who used to drink and do drugs in
his youth and went off them after finding
his religion...
                again: even i'm tempted by the Shahadah...
but i'm a Qabbalistic mongrel of sorts...
when he was talking about Somalia being split
into three... hmm... that's interesting...
the English part, the French part and the Italian part...
post-colonial politics...
    but even he was saying things like:
but i hate the Somalis that collaborated...
    the Europeans came offered money and there
were some willing Somalis to sell their neighbours...

minerals... i allowed this conversation up to a point
before i revealed to him:
listen... i'm of a people that don't have a colonial past...
we didn't exist for well over 200 years...
we were carved up by the Russians, the Prussians
and the Austro-Hungarians...
        
i thought you were English?!
            yeah... i thought so too...
i'm neu-Englisch...
                        and when the Somali girls working in
the kiosk noticed me getting along with the Somali...
i managed to brag my way into getting a free
hot-dog...
   while the Somali... caged in the turnstiles
asked me to keep a look out for any supervisors while
he smoked a cigarette...  
    **** me... it's truly advantageous not being English
in London: but at the same time
having people think you are...

in the end we only had a few issues...
unlike a football event: when even vaping is forbidden
we were being kept being asked whether
people could leave the venue to smoke and be
readmitted... we kept tell them:
wink wink... nudge nudge...
   when enough people come... and the stewards
can't see you... ahem... ahem...
most people got the idea...

but some of the women didn't...
   no one checks the toilets... wink wink.... nudge nudge...
until i started talking to this:
she made it adamant that she was a law postgraduate...
good that i didn't tell her that i was a chemistry
postgraduate...
                 impress me: yawn...
we were disputing whether to be a law-breaker...
listen: i'm not telling you can smoke...
i'm just telling you that no one checks the toilets...

but this one scared me and Ishmael... the Somali...
she asked to be let out...
she was told no... but then i initiated the finger
on the lips as if to imply: shh... i'm going you in on a little
secret... she was genuinely offended
that i used this cue... DON'T HUSH ME!
i'm not hushing you...
        all ******* glassy-wild eyed...
defensive & neurotic...
              white... blonde... kept in a cage for the past
three years... i was surprised she wasn't
wearing a face mask...
                  
i don't want to break the law!
you want me to break the law?!
who do you work for?! the event or the stadium?!
oh ****... ladies and gentlemen! we have a sinker!

you're asking me to let you out to smoke:
i'm telling you i can but i can't let you back in...
but... i'm also telling you
that this is not a football event...
the rules are relaxed...
                     she gave me a proper fright...
i thought she was going to grass me and Ishmael up...
luckily she ****** off...

these two other bubbly girls approached us...
this was the first time i was told i looked ****
outside of a brothel...
we let them out... one "medical" grounds...
but we served them up a plan A (medical grounds
reasons, to have a smoke)
or plan B... crowd-build up... no one checks the toilets...

then this one guy with crowd anxiety...
agoraphobia+,
                       charged me with tears in his eyes...
Wembley policy is that not all disabilities are visible...
i had to let him out... he did return...
i have to explain to my supervisor that
the guy had psychological demons haunting him...
you can't just tell me that i can't let him back
in when he's obviously distressed...
thankfully that went down as a treat...

i'm starting to realise that people are dim when it
come to someone insinuating that: rules
can be broken... i know that a high-viz. jacket is no
symbol of the sort of authority associated with
a police uniform... but we were telling people:
it's the concert season... you're not football hooligans...
it's a music concert...
it's not a football match... there are no two opposing sides...
with that comes some leniency...
you want to enjoy it? or you want to make our
lives more difficult?!

wink wink: nudge nudge...
  
oh man... listening to KORTEZ right now...
what a welcome relief from the ordeal of being indifferent
to Ed Sheeran...
i have this co-worker who's dreading working
the London Stadium when Chelsea will play West Ham...
i was the same today...
being indifferent to Ed Sheeran being surrounded
by Ed Sheeran fans is sort of a ******...
i can't fake smiles... i rather hide my mouth in my hand
and look pensively lost in "admiration"
and pretend to smile with my eyes
than fake a smile...

      music will never lie to you...
                      i didn't hate it... but i didn't love it either...
there's nothing worse than apathy:
i've been told...
but then there's a play on words:
apathy breeds no pathologies...
   since? it's a pathology in itself... funny how that works...
it's almost 4am and i think...
thank god i'm not working tomorrow...
i'll get at painting the garden fence...
i'll vacuum the house... i'll go on a bicycle ride...
i'll stack up on *****...
    i'll make my father lunch... then i'll think about
making dinner...
    
hell... what a summer: what a summer without
a girlfriend...
Weezer, Fall Out Boy, Green Day...
Red Hot Chilli Peppers... Ed Sheeran...
    Walter Sickert...
oh right... ha ha... an hour into the event and this
guy walks up to me...
LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT!
what's the problem?!
       i'm leaving! i'm leaving!
   why?!
              my wife is being a complete *****!
she's being an idiot!
i'm leaving... i'm going home...
   you do know that when you leave...
i can't... yes yes... I'M LEAVING!
   wow!              

thank god i didn't invest myself in the culture
of free ***... of hook-up culture...
thank god i went down the route: money on the table...
i can't imagine anything good being for free...
nothing good ever is...
   i would never invest myself in the hook up culture...
if it was ever going to be casual ***...
i'd need the sultry / shady avenues of nights
in a brothel...
         no...

oh... ****! i almost forgot!
while we were waiting for our shift to begin...
i spotted these four guys in the distance
playing cards...
i walked up and asked: so... what are you guys playing?!
blackjack... ooh...
can i join in?
sure thing bro...
        oh man... i almost cried... memories flooded in...
i remember sixth form... lunch breaks...
that's all we ever did... played blackjack...
reminiscent of Ernest Hemmingway's novella
Men without Women... men playing cards...
i forgot some of the basic rules
but i watched one round before joining in
and it was: yachts... wind and yachts...
and smooth sailing...
    i missed playing cards with guys so much...
the banter and the teasing...
the manly stuff of men... men without women...
******* utopia...
an eternity spent playing cards with guys...
women complicate matter...
they have this knack of isolating men
and turning men against men
because: in the end... it's women against women...
take women out of the equation
and when men come together...
they're playing cards and drinking beer together...

it's such a fun game...
much better than poker...
what are the rules? ha ha...
2s: pick up 2...
blackjacks: pick up 5...
red jacks neutralize...
kings reverse order of play
8 skip a go...
queens are slags...
aces change from either ***** to diamond...
and you can't finish on a power card...

i love this game! i was a teenager for a while
again!
oh man... i've written so many pointless details from today...
MUSIC DOESN'T LIE TO YOU... blah blah etc...
the highpoint was this ******* card-game!
maybe that's why i never became a gamer...
why i stopped on PS1... final fantasy VII,
metal gear solid...
         some beers, cards: ***** 'n' giggles...
parallel words...
    a man has... when it comes to his fellow men
and individually: with women...
playing cards or... going shoe-shopping with her?
playing cards... every single time...
even if it means not fathering a child
and not ******* on a regular basis;
   i like to keep my mind in order...

even the Somali said: you look young for a 36 year old...
even with the beard...
and we joked: you know why?
i don't have a woman... and that massive crescent
moon of a Somali smile conjured itself on his face...
yeah... we're relatable... laughter and the day
passed with a peace that might have made
angels jealous, if not the gods themselves;

**** me... even i sometimes find myself profound...
in a recent comment i wrote
about someone's concern for mortality
and enligthment:

deus in machina in perfect ratio to **** ex machina,
my frailty... against the infallibility
of trains or architecture...
the god inside the machinery...
compensated with the man outside of machinery...
and this backwards and forwards:
deus ex machina and **** in machina...
deus ex machina being the genius-ingenuity
of man... while **** ex machina being his...
stupendous dumbness when obliterated
by the artifacts of his fellow creature...
that's **** ex machina:
          the labourer is not the architect...
the nurse is not the heart surgeon...
              
               there's such a perfect harmony
to sharing toils... responsibilities...
just as long as the libido is managed and we
don't over-**** to create pointless middle-management
roles for people with little-****** complexes of
authority investment... we should be good...
but that's truly dependent on orientating ourselves
around what best way to fulfill our libido:
not careless *******...
    more people requires more jobs...
and that also demands scrutiny on a lack
of metallurgy in Europe...
                     etc.

             me and my new found Somali friend agreed:
neither of us could understand Western atheism...
i'm a Qabbalistic mongrel looking for a second schism
in Islam spearheaded by the Turks...
i'm not getting on my knees...
in a church... to give a ******* to a demigod...
after all... even Achilles could be equated on equal
footing... but he fought his way toward the zenith...
this pacifying of man with the suffering of but one
with shady dealings: arguments of "innocence"...
of course i'm inclined to the simplicity of Islam...
but also inclined to the complexity of Judaism...

but if i argue my case for blood in beef...
but if i argue my case for pork...
but if i argue my case for alcohol among these
two tribes...
blood in beef is healthy: iron...
pork? why be critical of god's creation?
you tend to sheep in deserts...
but when you're going to tame the boars...
you can eat everything from a pig...
alcohol? keeps you warm in cold climates...
but if i can have Somalis who drank and did drugs
on board... who found religion
after getting married and having children...

Christianity is a polytheism by this point:
due to its poly-schism...
i can't be a Christian... i toy with the idea
that i'm the reincarnation of Konrad von Wallenrode...
i can't defend what's already rotten...
mind you: i find the idea of reincarnation
repulsive... i.e. there's only a fixed number of souls /
individuals... that pass through zombie bodies...
that's... harsh... elitist...

thank god i can't go back to the gynocentric Christianity...
just read some Jung on the whole myth of
Jesus returning and ******* his mother
in the bridal chamber of the "uncircumcised"...
complications that don't require complications...
no... i wouldn't circumcise anyone...

best me: that last "leftover".
Pitch Hiker Jan 2019
I want to go back
In time
To a time
Where it didn't matter
How different we were
When you invented ways
To build forts and I climbed the tree
Back when we talked about
Country songs and barbie dolls
Back when you liked to cook
And I liked to run
When we schemed all the time
And slept over each others houses
When you didn't care about being cool
When the only person you were was yourself
When you had dreams and we called each other
Sisters
When did vaping and drugs become more fun
When did you start to believe who you were wasn't
Good enough
I always thought you were
When did you start to believe that I didn't care
Well
After years of this *******
I am handing you my letter of resignation
I will no longer be waiting with my shoulder to cry on
I will no longer be the girl you shove to the outside
I am picking my place
I no longer wish to call you my sister
And I no longer care for the **** you do
You go have *** with everyone you want
Because it makes you feel pretty
Go party and get drunk
I will never hold your hair back
And I will never lift you out of this despair
I am only now caring about me
nevaeh Jan 2020
smoking and vaping and ***
drugs and the internet
television and food
we **** ourselves and each other
we are dying.
based on a comment someone made at me
Bleak existence portrayed,
nonetheless this (baby
boomer) hybrid dreamer
oft times evocative
edenic reveries bekiss
mine psyche with pastoral trappings
evoking utopian bliss

on par with drawing
winning lottery ticket,
which fantasy I quickly dismiss,
where dolorous voices within me hiss
mocking pipe dream compensating
for unlived life hide miss

whiling away hours
of young adulthood...
this threescore aged man did blithely ****
away enraptured with Swiss
Family Robinson fantasy,
gladly exchanging tsoris

entailing breathtaking adventure
versus sequestered bookishness burr
rowed nose engrossed
with page turner capture
ring imagination of this erstwhile drifter
addressing, fixating, and keeping coiffure

as disheveled appearance, where daily
father and mother showed me the door
particularly on account, cuz for one more
nanosecond, they could not endure
this healthy sole son vaping expenditure
as both parents toiled away,

they tired trying to swallow failure
while primarily main feature
of this poem lackadaisically
exhausted as an Evansburg Park fixture
(calling squirrels on first name basis),
no sooner this bookworm gave vague gesture

after setting foot inside abode - 'pon dusk
asper whereabouts, off
into bedroom I did immure
and disappear into story
maybe one about main
character pledging indenture

role as heavy footsteps shook
324 Level Road domicile infrastructure
awaiting the wrath
of Khan spouting ultimatums
our father/son rapport long did inure
a "NON FAKE" wall not immune

to malicious, noxious, vicious... lecture
to offspring who long outwore his
Harris Tweed Scottish welcome mat,
yet... feared testing nonsecure
mooring which familiarity bred contempt!
Jeffrey Schmitz Dec 2019
Living is breathing.
Smoking is hating
vaping is ****** -
ugly bungs
plugging innocent lungs.
Charbroil, you wheezing gargoyle.
To spoil your breath
is seeking death.
Breathing God pure in & out
is what it’s all about.

Jeffrey Schmitz 10/10/19
Lyss Brianne Dec 2021
If I were lucky enough to love you again I would take you for all that you are. I’d fall in love with you constantly stealing all the covers. I’d love you when you won’t stop fidgeting when you drive. I’ll fall in love with you despite our foot height difference and I’ll run to keep up when you forget that my legs don’t go as fast as yours. I’ll fall in love with your off key singing and the fact that your car is more closet than vehicle. I’ll love you when you promise to quit vaping and then don’t. I’ll love kissing you, even when you taste like iced coffee and menthols. I’ll love you on nights when sobriety is hard and your blood is 90% whiskey, when your body is more pills than cells. I’ll love you when you try and push me away. I’ll fall in love with the freckles on your cheeks all over again. You’re selfless and vibrant. You’re loving and hilarious and oh so alive. If you allow me to love you again I promise to love all of you, for as long as we both live, I swear to love you immeasurably.
For those who think they're in the know,
I have news for you,
the world ended a long time ago and we're
just vaping on the fumes.

When men fail
all that remains are
the ants
following a chemical trail.

— The End —