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Nat Lipstadt May 2013
Three Minute Warning

A messenger delivers
A three minute warning
As I lay in bed at 10:30 am
(Resting in preparation for,
not from, our oops, early morning hike).

Breakfast will be ready in 3,
Get your **** in gear or else
It will be cold, I'll be mad,
And you will answer to a
Higher Authority.

No problem cause I already know
All I need is two.

Splash water on my face
Now I'm presentable
enough to the human race,
current company probably won't be happy,
But I ain't telling her, are you?

Shave! You crazed?
It is a three day weekend,
Every day a July Fourth,
Celebrating freedom from the European tyranny,
Of shaving smooth  every day!

Splash water on my head, count with me,
Five brush strokes as you can plainly see
Is a classic case of overcompensating
In my geling n' hair stylin'

Brush my teeth, well,
I hope 2 full minutes of rinsing with  CVS
Green stuff, mouthwash, will have to suffice.

Blast my deodorant both sides,
Long and strong, wearin' now
My bold blue *** husk of musk,
Cause I am a very considerate fellow
Who happens to really have stunk.

Clean T- shirt and shorts,
Yes, clean underwear too,
Leaves me a whole minute to write this scribble.

My flip flop noises coming down the hallway,
Are the butler announcing our joint arrival,
Me and my poem.

Lest you think this is paean to men
Another grand male boast,
Be advised this ditty be writty
By a man who, while no longer gritty,
Just put jelly on his scrambled eggs
And ketchup on his toast!

Mmmmmmm there might be a poem
Lurking in that too...
Sigh, a true story.
Robb Aug 2013
See the sadness in my eye, if you took the time to look
But most people believe the lie, sinker line and hook
Embarresed to talk bout the feelings in my mind
So I internalize it all, get used to it in time
But the darkness never fades, it is always on the edge
Looking at these lines, that are dropping A from read
The scars will never disappear, remind me of my past
Even though I have moved on from that, fear that they aren't last
Still plague me in my dreams, wether waking or asleep
So I try to ignore the demons creeping out of me
They escape in time alone, but surrounded I'm no better
Short sleeves it's apparent, kinda like my scarlet letter
D for depression or M misunderstood
People say they're here to help, but tell me how you could
Do you get the pain I live with? Is it something you understand?
Do you lay awake at night, with a razor grasped in hand?
Does your arm run red, when the worlds too much to bear?
Or do you have another means to get you out your head?

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression

It's sad how no one gets it, get judges it's so offensive
Like an expletive instead of answering a question
It's me, my scars my life
Not you, your kid your wife
Your ******* a bit too tight
Try to loosen up inside
Cause it's not your life that's ******
Not your problem you're in luck
Never wish this **** on anybody, no ifs ands or buts
Tormented by day, live with terror in the night
Cause the shade envelopes me no matter how I fight
Just gave up, my wall collapsed
Defenses didn't last
So I caved in let the darkness have a blast
Say it's just phase, **** I wish that **** were true
But it disappears then returners stronger in a day or two
The numbness creeps up higher, reaching for my brain
Then finally it's became part of every nerve and vein
Encompasses my body and it takes over control
Until the days fade together, looking like a blur
This is not a joke, you just probably don't know
Ive been dealin with this it's begun to take a toll

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression

I get so **** frustrated when I hear these people hate
About how weird those scars look, they don't take a second or wait
Try to figure out the meaning, or the reasoning behind
All the anger or the sadness that could cause the kind of drive
That would force the decision to drag across your skin
A razor or a knife or a lit cigarette end
But to me that **** means something that to you it never could
Because livin it myself has brought me closer to
The truth that lies beyond what these people have forgot
It's not your place to judge anyone who's cut
Cause chances are your wrong, and you probably make worse
Cause from experience that won't make them think first
It's just another reason to be done with your surroundings
To disappear inside and become hard as granite
To live to die to choose
Some alleviate with *****
While others turn to pills or *** to get them out the mood

So don't tell me you get it, sympathy for me's no good
Rather when you see me with my headphones on and hood
Don't tell me that it's nothing and don't think that you know better
Cause chances are there's reason behind wearin long sleeved sweaters
I don't mean to be scarin kids or give the wrong impression
It's just the more you know, the more you'll understand depression
Song lyrics
Aaron LaLux Sep 2016
The ghost of Freddie Gray,
rest in a shallow grave,
they say this is “The Land of The Free”,
so why they still treat us like slaves?

The current policed state of the Police State,
gives serious cause for alarm,
I Can't Breathe Hands Up Don't Shoot!
see it’s the 21st Century there’s cell phones,
so now we have proof That that young black man was unarmed…

See the situation in Ferguson,
it’s far from certain when,
conditions are worsen and,
the people are still hurtin' and,
we don't even have time to mourn,
before the police **** another one,
6 more kids killed since Michael Brown,
the problem didn't start with Ferguson.

Seriously,
it's got me thinking "What's going on?",
but I’m more Queen than Marvin Gaye,
still straight away they shot another one,
BANG,

and another one BANG,
and another one BANG,
and another one bites the dust…
BANG!

Just ask the family of Rumain Brisbon,

shot by an officer,
who mistook a bottle of pills for a gun,
the officer leaves behind two hot Glock shells,
while Brisbon leaves behind a daughter and a son,

then there's Eric Gardner,
who's ****** was caught on tape,
undercover cops strangled him to death with an illegal chokehold,
left the general public in dismay and disarray,
his only crime was selling some cigarettes,
but the cops killed him in a hurry,
this was an obvious homicide,
still no inditement by the **** Grand Jury!

So come really,
if we can't even get a single conviction,
on a single cop,
for a single shot shot without permission,
then what hope is there left to hope in,
it's as if the rope is tied around my neck and I'm chokin',
I thought to provoke a riot instead I decided to make this thought provokin',
if the pen mightier than the sword,
then we need to write a way right away to get these closed cases re-opened!

They say that just to have a driver's license is a privilege not a right,
while They make us feel like it’s a privilege just to survive in this life,
it shouldn't have to feel like a privilege just to survive,
while they're taking everything from us including our rights and our lives,
and the media tries to force us to take sides,
like I am against blacks because I'm white,
yeah cops have killed a lot of Black kids,
but that fact is that cops **** more Whites,
because it's not the color of the skin I’m in,
it's the color of the suit that one’s wearin,’
that really decides who's on who's side,
so who’s gonna live,
and who’s gonna die?

Boys in blue with a badge to **** at will,
anxiety of the All Seeing Eye on me makes me feel ill,
so much stress,
I can't take it,
I'm at home all alone,
laying in bed naked,
thoughts of dying brothers,
and crying mothers,
all done by undercover killers undercover,
they **** like ****,
where's Will.i.am,
"Where's The Love", where's the lovers?

No more Fergie,
just more Ferguson,
no more Taboo,
just more taboo killings when,
will we finally have some peace,
Jesus,
we just,
need to be free but,
they have us caught under an iron fist,
book us in and take our fingerprints,
tap our phones and put us on 'the list',
I thought this was supposed to be,
the land of the free,
but what the fck is this?
Feeling like Eric Garner I can't breathe,
just give me a bit of room please,
can't I at least,
get some groceries without the PDs harassing me?

Jeez.

Meanwhile,
back on the front lines,
it's the 4th quarter,
crunch time,

while we shout out,
“Black Lives Matter!”
they’ve got their clubs out,
like “Swing batter batter!”

while we write rhymes,
and debate the details,
they're gearing up for war,
reading our emails with a pledged allegiance to an empire of evils,

coming in like Stormtroopers,
with automatic weapons and combat boots,
and the whole time we're standing there on the Front Lines,
waiving our arms up high like, ”Hands Up, Don't Shoot!"


∆aron L∆ Lux ∆
dang
barnoahMike Nov 2010
She's about a LOVELY LADY,    Wearin Diamonds , , Wearin Silk..   WHERE'S SHE BEEN ? ?    I Ask Again, ,  WHERE'S SHE BEEN ? ?  Around the WORLD,  Lookin for HER Lover MAN ! !    NOT THAT she has one now !   CAUSE--SHE'S GONNA BE A " ONE-MAN-WOMAN " !   BUT  when she Finds that ONE MAN,   Then,  we can ALL-SAY ,  THAT'S A "ONE-MAN-WOMAN"   A N D,  Shes such a LOVELY LADY.    As she wears Her Diamonds,   as she wears Her Silks.    BUT,    She never stops Her lookin for just that RIGHT MAN.    "W O W " What a PRIZE  awaits Him !   HE JUST * HASN'T  been Found !   She'll know for sure who IT IS ,  ,  The PROMISE was made clear to HER !    JUST keep searchin ROUND the World,   Be that LOVELY LADY,   Wearin those Diamonds and Silk ! !   The CELEBRATION when they MEET,   Will mean to clear ALL things from the Street.    A MIGHTY PARADE of Friends with Flower Petals from  ABOVE,,,   WILL  Adorn     This meeting   of 'TWO SOULS " !   ! !  "BECAUSE"----SHE'S    "ABOUT A LOVELY LADY "
copyright 2010  barnoshMike       Mike Ham
Vladmir Putin May 2015
Frank Sinatra
En mi casa
Copy pastarino

Wearin Prada
Russian opera
Quentin Tarantino
Hermes Varini Jun 2021
The Airn-Wanderer:

WÆPEN WUNDUM SUNDORGENGA

Waes Ah! Waes Ah, noo!
Beguid! an’ Greatly, unco Greatly Hye, IT!
Wi'in Abysmal-Deep Primal Fyre, IT!
Great Fair Thor's Orrah!
Lookin’ yondir! lookin’ yondir, noo!
Afore avidly, unco avidly
Drank hynne Ah! Great Warlike Orrah!
The Gowblat o’ Noble Precious Gowd Shimmerin':
Gleamin’ further, IT! Ane an' the Same, hynne!
Wi' the Verra Glare frae Bein' o' Power Supreme!
Gift Invincibly Purified IT, hynne!
Thad Enraged Wotan’s ain Verra Chalice o’ mine,
An’ Toast frae Hye-HEREHAND!
Great, in Fyre Ragin' noo, Ullr's Orrah!
Frae Noble Valhalla Rairan Deep
Wi’ ITS Metal Fiery Soul, hynne!
Orra Skye-Substance, orra Skye-Schorcin’ o’ mine!
Noo, verra unco! Core-Martially stylle grabbin’,
Wi’ Black Leather Glove
O’ Total Dazzlin’, an' Verra, Verra ​Core-Abysmal, IT!
Whyte-War, hynne!

ÞUNORE HWÍT CEALLA,

Fyre-Flowin’, the Verra Northumbrian Mead!  
Livin’, Tasty wi’ Pow’r, Great Warlike Orrah!
Niflheim-Watery, IT!

BEADWE, MĪN SWÆTAN,

Frae yon Ironclad Norþan-hymbre!
Frae Hel Itself Delicious,
Unco dyrinkin’, downe the hatch!
Hynne Ah,
My by-gone Days left orra Aflame:
Great Vision! Great Bellum! noo dyin’ o’ mine!
Whileas stylle waes hynne Ah!
Thro’ the Bare Highlands Dreary,
‘Yont South Ruins’ Bluish Burnan Wa,
Deep-Wanderin’,
In search for the Verra Lightnin’ Raed,
An' Flashin' Guide o' mine Devastatingly Immortal!

BĒOWES RĒADA FÝRTORR,

O’er Thae Cauld Moorlan Heights hynne,
Leisurely, implacably, Great Warlike Orrah!
Amyd Hye Rocky Smeddum all abowt me
Strollin’,
Intae the Verra Mirk Unfathomable,
Airn-Flesh o’ mine, hynne
Throwin’,
An' my Wise an’ Bold an’ Proud!
Sensual Noble Dame,
Gerðr galdrs Scho!

MĪN FÆÐMLICE OND BRYNIGE CWÝNE
SÉO HYGEÞRYMME ÁDRÍEGEÞ,

A' Oor Inflamed Naychts! Verra Wyntry Naychts!
Afore the Sacral Stane-Hearth:

WINTRES WÍDERFEORLIC HEORÐ,
HWÆR ÆFRE OND LÍGBRYNE
ÚSERE BRÆD GEMETEÞ,

Stylle deep-burnin',
Guid, Verra Guid Bleezan Orrah!
Scho unco weall! Scho unco weall! Ah say!
Rememberin',
In Lang Robes o' Deep Crimson Fyre, noo!
Her Superior Womanhood,
Full! An' divinely, orra divinely!
Thro' Her Glowin' Mystery Sinuous, o'er endowed!
Hynne stylle, unco ardently! in Primal Lowes, fully Sinuous!
Whare, Thys weall! weall! Scho unco knew!
Ah! Guid, Verra Guid Thundir's Orrah!
Used tae ay lose! nae abeigh!
Wi'in an Abyss Interminable an' Endless Contynent!
Ay, Great Guid Orrah! Masell!
An’ Verra Firey! sinuously Trowe! Verra Soul!
Unco tightly, wi' Norland Passion
Stylle profoundly Wemenlie o' Hers!
Shrouded,
Scho saw me! Scho orra saw me!
Noo, wi’ Courage Ablaze an’ unco Wreððe
Ascendin’
To orra desire! to orra possess,
To hae IT! To unco hae IT! back again!
Ah! LEOFLIC IREN HÁTAN!
The Lone Airn-Wanderer, SUNDORGENGA, Ah!
Frae yon Auld Götaland:

LAND GUMCYNNES GEAT-MÆCGUM,
BEADWE-HEARPENÆGLES EORÐRÍCE,

My ain Lost, the OVERMAN'S HIS-SEL!
Great, Great Mjölnir's Warlike Orrah!
Wi’ Bluish Skye-Gore, frae Thae Cauld Heights
Unco! Verra, Verra Guid O'erhuman,
Hynne, neist tae the Forgotten Firey Ruin!
Totally 'Yont-Human! The DAZZLIN' OVERMAN'S AIN!
Ah noo say! Ah noo tae the Moorlan Stormy Cluds yell! Orrah!
Skye-Imbued

Thundir-Bluid:

NORÐÞUNRES WÆLDRÉOR

Tae feel IT hynne! Tae unco feel IT:
Great Guid Warlike Orrah!
Total, unco Total, in Full New Skye-Gore IT!
Verra, Verra Thor-Hye!
Frae afarre! yet tae me Verra, Verra Skye-Close!
Rumblin' Skye-Destruction o’ mine!
Hynne Total Skye-Rebirth O'erhuman,
An' the Roaran', unco Skye-Roaran', IT!
Great Kvasir's Warlike Orrah!
Afore the Verra Disc o' the Full Mowne Murky,
Orra, unco, IT! in the East Dreary skye-risin', IT!
'Yont-Human, Great Jörð's Orrah!
Supreme Transformation!

WULFES GENIWUNG,

Wi' the New Skye-Knowledge Scorchin'
Owre, owre imbued!
An' in the Soarin' Zenith-Fyre
Deeply, deeply hawkan IT, hynne!
Thro' Thad Cauld Moorlan Secret
Ah am noo about to owre yell,
Frae the Thundir's yon Rumblin'
Verra, Verra Skye-Pride!
Intae my Veins Fiery
Fore’er an’ e’er, wi’ Ragin’ Skye-Bluish Hue
Noo flowin’,
Com on! Com on, hynne!
Dearest Mountayn-Thunderbolt o’ mine!
Taukin’ Ah noo am to ye stylle!
Struck me deep! struck me noo, Ah yell!
Great Fair Thor's Orrah! deep,

ÍSENSCÚR,

For fully Covered! orra Skye-Covered hynne!
In Feudal Skye-Airn Indestructible
Am Ah heare! for ye noo!
Tae attract hynne! out o' Thad Norland Verra Blue!
As the Skye-Magnet attracts the Rare Shinin' Metal,
Yer deadly Skye-Rage wpon Airn-Skynne o' mine!
Tae catalyze hynne yer loudly tellin',
Frae Yon Abysmal Distance! Lone Skye-Voice,

SCÍRHAM IC! BEADWE LÍGETUNG,

Whyle Ah stylle! intae Hye Lowes unco climb
Thad Cauld Rocky Soil,
Whyle Ah stylle unco tell
Thad Vision, most Solitarie o’ mine,
Whyle Ah stylle restlessly, implacably seek
My ain Lost Skye-Sel!
The Hye, Verra Hye! Adamantine Person o' the OVERMAN!

SUNSCÍNE SEOLF OND LINDGEBORGA,

Want Ah! truly unco, want Ah! owre want Ah, hynne!
Beguid an’ Great Guid! Hôm Loga Himna Orrah!
Noo, richte noo!
This kin Ah! still noo unco truly yell!
'Yont yon Whunstane Stronghold's Mirk Well!
Feel, unco o'erhumanly live, hynne!
Thad Continual Flashin’
Frae the Grayish Leaden Moorlan Cluds
Noo the Zenith-Sunne Invisible behynde
Hye-glorifyin’!
Thro’ the Verra Tundir Voice o'er an' o'er echoin,
In shape o’ Norland Hammer frae the Battle, IT!
Intae Veins Skye-Bluish o’ mine!

NORÐANWINDE! BLÓDWRACU OND FÆHÞ,

Next tae my Feudal Airn-Side noo still wounded
By Enemy an' Cowardly, tae Human, tae Cowardly!
Frae the Distance, hynne! shot at me!
Still Mortal Arrows!
Nae Fear, hynne! tae Earthly! tae Miserable,
Surpassingly Miserable, IT! unto the Verra Core!
To the Hye Fair-Haired Gods,
In Strang Norland Dignity an' Supreme Pow'r,
An' Skye-Vengeance frae Enraged Sacral Thule blowin'!
Noo! thro' Noble an' Future Skye-Gore o' mine schawe!
In my stylle the Verra Lightnin':

VICTORIAE SANGUINISQUE SIGNUM
OVERMAN

Noo implacably approachin'!
An’ ye! Sweyt an’ Scaur Enemies, not Quhone all ye!
Ye still cannae, cannae hear?
Yell an’ Furious Bellum, aye!
Frae Loud Thundir-Voice o’ mine?
Skye-Crash frae my Battle-Wounds IT:

MĪN HEORUDREÓR GLADAÞ,

Wi'in yer ignoble ears noo!
Wnto the Sacral Open Blue
Risin’ unco Freed!
Ye still want to *** to orra Heaven?
Hynne, heyre Ah am!
Com on! Com on! All ye Cowards!
Thys is whate Ah orra cam for!
Fecht me! Hand-to-Hand Strang!
Do signal the Attack!

ÞINE UNEARH GÚÐÞRACU OND GEWEALC,
ÞUNORRÁDE, MĪN HILDERÆS!

Glitterin’ Skye Axe-Blade o’ mine winna, IT
Cease to wait to orra shatter,
In a single Thundir-Blow, all yer Targes!
Com on! Com on hynne! ye Cowards!
Do noo hae the Warlike Verra Guts to taste
Gleamin' VARGS UNDA Alone o' mine!
O'er ye thys single Thundir-Blow pourin'!
Ye want still to unco give
Unto Enraged Airn o’ mine, Wonner IT, lo!
Yer Hand-to-Hand, hynne Feudal an’ Essential
Battle-Bluid?

HEOLFRE ANWIG,

Wha hynne want to be the First?
Wha hynne ready is noo to unco suffer
Frae my Verra Skye-Airn noo Skye-Flashin'!
Gunnþinga Called, IT!
Hys, alongside the Skye-Foreign, Nadir's ain!
Miserable, tae earthly, tae human orra Defeat?
Fecht Ah! for the Glare an’ Hye Glory O'erhuman
Frae Bein’ as Pow’r, Bluish-Firey IT!

ÞUNORES HAMOR,

Hynne heyre glowran at ye Ah unco stand!
Wi’ Great Clan-Vermillion Wyld Wraith o’ mine
Hye, Norland-Fair, an’ orra Warlike!
Wi’ Battle-Axe o’ mine gleamin’,
Unner yon War-Glare, ne’er, ne’er settin’,
An’ the Sunne’s ain Disc Refulgent,

BLŌDE ANWEALD, HWÍTE HEAÐUSIGEL,

Wnto deep the Wanwordie World, Mirk hynne, IT!
Richte, orra Ancestral an' Warlike Richte!
Greatly, unco greatly! Flamin'-Firey an' Zenith-Supreme, IT!
Verra Iron-Curse Blindin'!
An’ He cam! the Thunderbolt at length
Unto me He orra cam!
Thus struck waes Ah!
My Flesh, an' Bluid, an' Spirit!
Intae Thor's ain Skye-Force
At once turnin'
Tae greatly, tae unco! Verra Guid Orrah! see
Thro' Nyow Total Skye-Blindness O'erhuman o' mine!
Altogether hynne noo, Great Guid Saxon Orrah!
The Forerunnin’ Presence noo Devastatin’
Wnto me, stick-an-stowe, noo orra IT! comin',

IRSERN-SCÉAWERE IC,
CWIOFYRES BURHWEARD,
BÆLÞRACE OND BRYNEWIELMA GEBORGA,

Frae thowa, IT! in Primal Wreððe

Skye-Essences
Or
Twæȝe Strang Sunnes

Hwenne! Beguid an’ Great, Great Warlike Orrah!
Out-owre Hye Mountayn Glade, sic unco Wide:
The Cauld Vitrified Fort  
Wha's Sharp Surroundin' Gleamin' Wa
Thro' Hye Heat Monumental generated!
TAP O' NOTH waes:

FÆRBRYNE GLÆSFÆTES STANWEORC,

In Thundir-Bluid an’ Frame,
An' further unco Skye-Imbued Ah!
Wi' the Earthly Unidentified Energy
Frae thad Towerin' Verra Steid,
Noo still walkin’,
At length thare surveyed hynne Ah!
Wi’ Fyre-Sight, Deep-Penetratin’ IT,
An’ Auldfarran, Lucid Reason o’ mine,
The Heaven’s Blue Verra Vault:
Proud Storm-Shrine, Dearest o’ mine!
Ane wi’ my Skye-Rage Hye,  
An’ the Atmosphere, waes IT, waes IT,
Intolerably close, yet unco Potent, Heimdall-Divine!
Hynne beheld Ah, lo!
TWA ESSENCES O’ FYRE!

BRYNEWIELMUM CAMPWUDA,

Intangible, Untouchable, Impenetrable, baith Thay,
O’er the Whole Uranic Skye-Arch,
Their Skye-Dominion an’ Primordial Skye-Dignity
Unco haudin’:
The Essence o’ the ΛOΓΟΣ an’ the Essence o’ the REAL, Thay:

STĪELENRA-HEÁÐUSIGELA FÝRBÆREAN
GÆDERSCYPE OND GLÉDEGESA
ÞĀ HLŪDE BECWÆDON,

Twa! Tangible, Visible MICHTY SRANG SUNNES!
Twa, hynne! Let me stylle noo distinctly remember!
Unco Martially an' Norland Colourful!
Great Orrah! Rotatin', Thay A'! Thay A'!
Great Lone Sight o' mine!
Splintered nae! Round Shields o' War Dazzlin':
Ský Skǫglar frae the Auld Wondie Hólmganga, Thay!
Frae Auld! Verra, indeed Verra primevaly Auld!
Thro' Deep the Firey Tyme Conquerin', an' Ruthless,
An' towardis the Fleysche, Fallacious hynne Mortal, unforgivin'!
Crucial Gory Soil in yon 537 A.D. CAMLANN called
Thad haes bin, IT! a Witness tae my ain Shed Battle-Bluid!

BRYTENCYNING,
IC WIÞGEHÆFTE HINE, BLÁCAN ÁNWÍGE,
EFENLÍCAN GÚÐHERE BLÆDE,

Meany, Meany Kingdomes, an' Onslaughts,
A' Bluish-Ironclad Thay, ago!   
Hynne noo, whileas Ah stylle speak, Immortal am, an' waes awready!
Yet Thad nae, nae enough IT proved
Afore the Presence Devastatin' o' the OVERMAN!
Stylle, Ah knew, HE noo in waitin'!
HE WHA! HE WHA! HE WHA unco:
The Verra ENS! thro' the Dazzlin' Skye-Bluish Revenge o' HYS,  
Hynne Mine!
Tae the Yieldin' Ground o'ershadows! an' in an Ultimate Whyte War
Flashin' tae Fathomless Eternity, in Gore Shinin' defeats!
Intense Meanin' Primordial o' Battle Fierce baith Thae!
Hynne unco embodyin',
Afore thys, thro’ Verra Lowe penetratin’,
An’ wi’ Hye, Verra, Verra Skye-Hye!
Thundir-Bluid Thunderous
Awa, awa flowin’ IT, orra!
Loneliest Vision o’ mine:

GEBYLD,

When, Great Thundir’s Orrah!
Wi’ a speed Wicked yet Prodigious, lo! Sublime,
Closer, closer, wi’ the Impetus frae Twa Skye-Rams Wyld
They orra cam!
An’ in a Common Skye-Embrace!
Their Dazzlin’ Blades o’ Vibrant Steel!
Hynne crossin’,
Thus unco, owre imbued waes, waes Ah!
Wi' Thad Verra Hye Steel-Glare, Ah!
Wi' Thad intae Deep Fyre afore Wounded Step o' Mine meltin',
Feudal, unco Feudal Skye-Knowledge, an' Airn-Revenge!
An' advanced wi' Firm Martial Gait hynne, towardis
The Lonely Gleamin', Flashingly Firey,
Rewb-Gem o' Moorlan War Forgotten,
Thro' ITS Sheer Inner Foirce hynne unco Reddenin'!

HERECIRME, RÉOD GIMCYNN,

Whileas the Stellar Wynde silently ensued
Frae Thad Last Titanic Encounter an’ Battle,
Wi’ unco deafenin’ Core-Clash,
Frae Thor’s His-sel, again,
The Whispered Warlike Voice!
Hynne intae Ane Nucleus Whyte
At length blendin’, afore wnto me
Noo orra comin’ IT:

The Shield-Blinding:

DÆGSCIELD GEBLENDAÞ

For rendered orra, orra sightless!
Waes Ah noo,
Yet still able to distinctly behold,
An’ e’en deeper, unco deeper! Great Warlike Orrah!
The Verra Dazzlin’ Core, IT!
Wi’ Verra Bluish Flash, an’ the Skye-Gore
Frae Thundir-Eyes noo o’ mine
Sheer Sharp, IT!
For Thad Sudden Thundir-Blindin’ o’ Mine!
Ah am noo taukin’ abowt,
Great Dunnottar’s an’ Tantallon’s Orrah!
Gift Supreme frae Hye the Zenith-Skye!
Orra Skye-Generous hynne, IT!
Intae an All-Powerful, unco All-Powerful, Ah say!
An’ All-Seein’ Thundir-Force
Thundir-O’erhuman, hynne frae the Thundir ‘Yont-Human!
IT, in Hye Fyre! Skye-turned,
An’ New Unknown Fiery Demons IT
Orra, orra! unveiled:

ÁGLÆCAN WUNDORSÉON,

Athwart Noble Airn-Person o’ mine,
Thro’ the Cauld Blast frae Thad Moorlan Wynde
O’er an’ o’er fallin’,
For the Verra Skye-Vision o’ the OVERMAN,
Guid Orrah! Great Warlike Thundir’s Orrah!
Unco Profound IT waes!
An’ unco killed IT the Unprepared,
For waes IT for nae Unworthy Skellum  
To Feud an’ Sword Foreign!
An’ the Whole Wnivers, in a Verra Flash,
Thro’ the Same Auld an’ New Thunderbolt
Ah waes lookin’ for,
Penetrated IT orra waes:
THE HERACLITEAN, DEVASTATINGLY PROPHETIC, IT!
FIERY SKYE-FORCE!
FRAE THE VERRA AIRN-PERSON
STEEL-CONCRETE, IT!
DAZZLINGLY 'YONT-TELLURIAN AN' SKYE-CENTRAL!
O' THE OVERMAN:
THE 'YONT-HUMAN HYNNE NAE HUMAN!
THAD LIKE CONQUERIN', RAGIN' WHYTE-FYRE,
WI'IN THE YIELDIN' MURKY MIRK VOID SHINES!
INCANDESCENT O'ERHUMAN VERRA BODY!
THAD MINE AIN, AH KNEW,
SUNE AN' SYNE! UPON THAE BENS DREARY,
IT SHALL, GREAT GUID ORRAH! BE!
AN' WHA'S NOBLE AN' SOLEMN NAIM
HYE! HYE! THE ETHER'S AIN SKYE-SUBSTANCE
INTAE ALL-FERVID LOWES AN' METALLIC BRILLIANCY
TURNIN'

ΥΠΕΡ-ΚΕΡΑΥΝOΣ

WAES! THUNDIR-CONSCIOUS, AN’ DIRECTIN’,
THUNDIR-DESTROYIN’, HYNNE CRAETIN',
O’ER ALL THUNDIR-DOMINATIN’,
TO THE INFINITE UNCO THUNDIR-GROWIN’,
MINE AIN BLUISH MOORLAN BLUID
TO THE INFINITE ORRA THUNDIR-FEEDIN’,
Together hynne wi’ my Arteries o’ Skye-Blue
In Baith Spirit an’ the Verra Flow,
When orra struck again waes Ah!
Wnto Verra Death, an’ e’en ‘yont! waur e’en waur!
Skye-Waur, Great Warlike Orrah!
Towardis the Verra Dazzlin’
Skye-Weregild o’ Gowd:

GOLDWEARDA FORNÉÐAN,

For the Loneliest Vision o’ mine
To in Fyre, still unco blinded Ah!
Distinctly behold,
At bein’ hynne, Great Warlike Orrah!
The Sole Ironclad Witness
O’ my by-gone Path Aflame,
Intae ‘Yont-Human Will o’ mine!
Noo unco forged, Great Hye Orrah!
Wnto the Auld Bluid-Rock o’ Rebel Sacrifice
Far awa! in the Snowy Caucasus
Nae longer IT chained!

HRINGUM SWEORCAN,

Meanwhile, lo! At my Mirk Cloaked Back,
Behold ye! Another Identical Skye-Fusion!
For Twa Dazzlin’ Whyte Glows,
Symmetrical Unco Mirrors They,
As if frae Myrddin’s ain Magic,
To View o’ mine orra appeared:
Perfect Pow’r o’ Infinite Reflection, They!
Mine ain Past, my ain Future!
Baith embodyin’,
An’ waes stylle Ah!
Intae the Verra Middle o’ the Glare
Standin’
Wi’ Gleamin’ Claymore drawn, Dearest o’ mine!
Thundir-Hurt stylle, afore noo the

Destroyer of the Past:

ÍSIGE CWYLMING

An’ noo, Guid, Verra, Verra Guid o’ Gowd
Warlike Orrah!
Thus willed Ah! the OVERMAN!

BISENE WRECEND,

Freish an’ Auld! Airn-Feudal an’ Strang!

DUGUÞMIHTUM OND HEORUSWENGE,
ĒACEN BIÞ ŌFER-MANN,

Wi’ Michty Inner Energy o’ mine
Great Feudal Orrah! unco Alone!
Wha's Sole Hye Naim Firey OVERWILL!
IT unco, oan the Gory Battlefield, Ah weall knew IT waes!
Frae the Verra Skye-Dragun! A' Destroyin' hynne HE!
Intae the Deep Fyre, wi' HYS Beastly Wings thus orra spread,
Unco, prodigiously o'er A' HE hoverin',
Towardis the Past allwayes Dreadful e'en, hynne!
Wi’ HYS Scales o’ Enraged Gowd,
The Shinin’ Horror wi’in the Skye, IT!

FÝRDRACAN GLÆD GRYREBRÓGA
SÉ FORÞGEWITENNESSE UNWYRCÐ,

Skye-Perfect! intae the Mirror-Glare Image o' mine, HE!
The OVERMAN o' Deep Fyre,
Th'gither wi' my ain Reflected Bluid, hynne!
Noo, in Feudal Tartane-War stylle thundir-flowin'!
More intensely! o'er an' o'er in Steel hynne,
HYS Supreme Presence greatly tae the Infinite!
Orra skye-increasing!
Intae the noo Unleashed Skye-Pow’r!
Unto my Wounded Spirit o'er an' o'er
Hynne HE skye-returnin’!
As ane wi’ the Moorlan Rumblin’ Thunderbolt
Ah waes lookin’ for,
The Sacral Dazzlin’ Chain Mail Ablaze:

SCÉAWERE-HRÉOH,

In the Skye-Identity e'en most Skye-Asolute IT!
My ain! HE orra, unco flashingly wearin’,
Thus willed Ah! Past o’ mine back IT!
In Feudal Person o’ HYS, my ain! empowered:
GORY GHAIST! by-gone Immortal o’ mine IT!
Still orra Alive an’ Fiery!
Flowin’ an’ flashin’
Thad not Identical unto ITSELF IT waes!
Hynne unto ITSELF most identical!
Quhenne! in Feudal Airn-Flesh o’ HYS,
Great Warlike Orrah!
Thro’ Ragin’ Skye an’ Earthly Pride at once IT,
Most fleshily, intae Hye Fyre Purifin’
Waes incarnated,
Thus willed Ah, Future o’ mine, tae, hynne!
Wi’ the Iyce Cross o’er Moorlan Coat o’ Arms,
Frae Noble Dundarg’s Hye Wa,
In Feudal Steel, Greater, unco Greater IT!
Shimmerin’,
For the Past lived in the Verra Bluid o’ HYS,
Thynce thro' Hye Firey Gore Immortal:  

FULMINE VICTOR
MAGNUS INVICTUSQUE
OVERMAN

Let me Thys, NOBLE GLAMIS’ GREAT ORRAH!
Truly, unco truly yell! waes IT potentiated,
An’ sae waes the Future, stylle my Verra, Verra Ain!
Wnto Dazzlin’ Airn-***** o’ mine  
Wi’ Increasin’ Ocean’s Rage Tempestuous
Fore’er returnin’,

CRÆFTUM OND RÝNE STÍELE!
BEADUWÆPEN,

Intae Single Will O’erhuman
An’ Unforgivin’ Continuum, as Ane,
Whare Ye! Dearest Hye Thundir o’ mine!
At the Verra Skye-Zenith,
Still silently dwell!  
Hynne willed Ah! my ain Image
Frae the Past! Frae the Future! wi’ unco Force,
At once IT emergin’,
Towardis the Past! Towardis the Future! wi’ orra Dignity,
At once IT rushin’,
Intae the Implacable Spiral o’ Becomin’
Thad Ane wi’ the Verra Vortex o’ Return
IT! Great Warlike Orrah! waes,
The Past burnin’, the Future hynne IT affirmin’,
An’ unto the Verra Skye-Core!
GREAT HÖÐR’S AN’ WOTAN’S ORRAH!
Directed,
Noo afore my ain wi’ Fyre Wounded Eyes,
Thro’ each Revolution, ITS unco Strength,
Great Warlike Norland Orrah!
Unto the Fathomless Fiery Infinite
Increasin’:
The Verra Mountayn Thunderbolt!
Ah waes lookin’ for,
For the Increase o’ Pow’r ne’er Identical
Unto itself IT waes,
Hynne waes unto Itself most identical!
As noo met wi’ Ah

THE DESTROYER O’ THE PAST,
THE CREATOR O’ THE FUTURE,
O’ LYFE FORE’ER CHANGIN’
THE GREAT AFFIRMATOR,
HYE SKYE-VEINS O’ HYS
O’ERHUMAN, MY AIN!
THE IRONCLAD INCARNATOR
AN’ THE FEUDAL WITNESS!
O’ MY BURNAN MOUNTAYN-PATH
DYIN’:
THUNDIR-FRAME O’ MINE, HE!
STRONGER! STRONGER!
O’ER AN’ O’ER,
UNTO MY BY-GONE DAYS BLEEZAN,
AN’ THE ROARAN’ FUTURE!
AS MOLTEN SKYE-GOWD INCORRUPTIBLE
NOO RETURNIN’,
WHAR IMMORTALITY ITSELF HYNNE,
IN FORE’ER INCRESIN’
HYE FYRE AN’ BATTLE-GORE,
O’ERSHADOWED IT WAES,  
INTAE DEEP THE WHYTE SPIRAL,
SKYE-RECURRENCE INCANDESCENT, IT!
ANE WI’ THE LONE IRONCLAD IMAGE
UNTO VERRA, VERRA PERFECTION!
SKYE-SPECULAR O' MINE!
SCORCHIN' AN' SHININ' AN' UNCO TANGIBLE, HE!
THE CLOAKED SKYE-FIGURE
THAD WAES NOO
'YONT THAD AULD FORGOTTEN WA,
MY BLEEDIN' SKYE-COURAGE
IN WARLIKE SILENCE AWAITIN',
FRAE THE DEPTHS O' THE ROTATIN’ SKYE-ENERGY,

WEALHFÆRELDES DÆGWÓMA,

PROUDLY AN' INVINCIBLY SKYE-STANDIN'!
WHAR, GUID SKYE ORRAH!
FIERY WOE INTAE FEUDAL STEEL MELTIN',
DEEPER AN' NOBLER IT PROVED!
AN’ WI’ DAZZLIN' SKYE-REVENGE
O'ER AN' O'ER, GREAT THOR'S ORRAH!
IT SUPREMELY, IN BLUISH NORLAND AIRN FLASHED!

For, lo! the Verra Blank frae the Past
Together wi’ ITS Inevitable Feud-Foreign Woe
Hauntin’
Thad cannae be avoided hynne!
Mirk an’ Invisible, IT!
It nae longer existed! It nae longer existed!
For unco filled noo IT waes
By the Devourin’ Lone Lowe an’ the Verra Frame:
The Chain-Mailed, Heated in Airn War-Wame
O’ THE OVERMAN! HE:
WILL, AS THE VERRA INNER ENERGY!
VIGOUR, AS THE VERRA INNER WILL!
FRAE THE PAST, FRAE THE FUTURE!
TANGIBLE, VISIBLE, INCARNATED,
NOBLE WYLD DRAGON,
SKYE-BEAST O’ MINE,

GRYREBRÓGA OND FÆRGRYRE,
WUNDORA WYRM! ÚHT-SCEAÞA HÉ!

FYRE-WOUNDED IN NAE GOWD-CAGE, HE!
O'ER SKYE-SPIRIT O' MINE,
HE! HYNNE, UNCO SKYE-FLYIN'!
WI’ HYS SKYE-GORE O’ER THE BARS INVISIBLE
TRULY MINE AIN! GREAT GUID ORRAH!
DOWNE, DOWNE! NOO
LIKE THE PUREST RHODIUM
WI' THE FYRE-BLUISH
SKYE-ARTERIES O' THE LONE THUNDERBOLT
AH WAES LOOKIN' FOR
AGAIN UNCO BLENDIN',
Unto at Braemar the Verra Battle-Gore,
Afore the Lang Hour, in Kyng Eochaid’s
Martial Hidden Lore,
By the Force o’ Flowin’ Lava
Frae the Cauld an’ Dreary Highlands Implacable
Echoin’
Thad Becomin’ as Increase in Pow’r
IT, Great, Great Orrah! waes,
Backwards intae Tyme! Intae the Future hynne!
For the OVERWILL kan IT!
Destroye the Feud-Foreign Gory Bygane!
When o’er the Gleamin’ Skye-Cuirass
O’ the HYE OVERMAN ALONE!
IT lies visible an’ yieldin’ an’ razed an’ burnin'!
When o’er the New Soil o’ Dazzlin’ Alabaster
Conquerin’
Intae Deep the Future, thro’ Renewed Rage
An' yon Incandescent Skye-Thundir!
Ah waes lookin' for,
HE! My Specular Skye-Incarnation!
Fore'er orra creates!
Whileas thae words, in Roaran’ Wreððe,
Flame-Wounded,
Ah still loudly whisper,
But lo! Great Warlike Orrah!
THE IYCE CROSS FIREY
O’er Mirk War-Tartan, Dearest o’ mine!
Next to Dundarg’s Hye Wa, Ah well remember!
Embroidered,
Close to my Ruby Brooch strangely IT,
Unco strangely, like a Verra Premonition
Gleamed, afore noo

The Mirror-Fusion:

WĒOHES MELTAN

When, lo! Airn an’ Thundir!
Great Immortal Warlike Orrah!
Thro’ the Loud Whisper o’ the Thundir
Ah waes lookin’ for,  
The Image o’ the OVERMAN
Detached ITSELF, lo!
Frae baith the Surfaces in the Twa Opposed Mirrors:
Frae baith thae Reflectin' Skye-Furnaces Gleamin'!
Afore Noble Feudal Person o' mine,
Unco Sightless! Still unco Skye-Sightless!
E'en more! noo unco Sightless!
HE hynne, orra Ah beheld cam!
Wha’s Supreme Hieland Emanatin’ Force
Frae the Directin’ Skye-Lightnin’, IT!
Ah waes lookin’ for,
Na orra, orra Prodigious Sight!
Nae e’en Vör’s, or Heimdallur’s, or Snotra’s Ain!
If nae in Thundir Skye-Blinded as noo Mine!
Cuid, cuid IT! humanly, still tae humanly!  
This noo Ah! in Thad Skye-Fyre ‘Yont-Human!
Soarin’ heare in Dignity o’er Tap o’ Noth’s
Black Vitreous Smeddum an’ Cauld Martial Sand,
Cannae, cannae doubt!
Thro’ Thad Flashin’ Skye-Reflection withstand,
Frae the Past! frae the Future, hynne!
Great Warlike Orrah!
To encounter Spirit Ablaze o’ mine,
To Unleash Wyld Beast Immortal
Thad My Verra Mountayn Path  
Guarded still,
Some Bluish Bluid Stains IT leavin’
O’er the Michty an’ Pure Glass still:
My ain! frae the Clash o’ Life,  
An’ noo! Great, Great Warlike Orrah!
A LIGHNIN’-SHADE IRONCLAD!
Unto me, ITS Skye-Bluish Garb o’ Hye Skye-War!
In an Identity an’ Heat, e’en the Most Absolute!
To Verra Perfection reflectin',
Towardis Feudal Person o’ mine IT noo!
Wi’ Slow Skye-Gait,
Devastatingly, IT advanced,
An’ when afore me at length
IT standin’,
Thro’ the Loud Sound o’ the Thundir, lo!
Ah waes still lookin’ for,
In a Great Whoosh an’ Roaran’ Rumble
Non-Human Deep Voice, IT!
Frae the Past! Frae the Future!
Frae the Verra Brunan’ Throat
O’ the LIGHTNIN’ HIS-SEL!
Ah waes still looking for,
Wi’ Spiral Exhalations unner the Form, schorcin’ IT!
O’ Just Anger frae Primeval hynne Most Real
Forgotten Feudal Lore
The Hand-to-hand Wapin-Storm Harsh!
An’ Skye-Revenge, still Mine Ain!
Unco an’ owre loaded,
As Maddenin’ Heated-Airn, IT again!
Unto the Cauld Blue Vault o’ the Verra Skye
Wi’ orra, orra Dignity
Lonely risin’,  
Thae Verra Syllables!
The VERRA SKYE-INCARNATOR O'ERHUMAN!
Intae Deep noo, Great Orrah!
The Abysmal Skye-Core Bluish-Aflame, IT! o' the

Total Specular Skye-Force:

BRYNEWELMES WORDHLÉOÐOR

The Skye-Conscience, Víðarr-Hye o’ mine!
Most distinctly! Great Warlike Orrah!
HE, THE BLUISH INCARNATION HYE
O' THE HYE LIGHTNIN' ITSELF!
Ah waes lookin' for,
Wi' a Skye-Cowntenance Storm-Hidden
Flashin’ frae Deep the Obscured Skye-Mirk
Thro’ a Battle-Scar intae the Fyre gleamin'
O'er HYS left Sword-Offended Cheek:
Thys cuid Ah! unco Blinded, see!
Intae Deep the Skye-Unknown,
Still, Great Guid Glamis’ Orrah!
Stick-an-stowe a Wonner, Mine Ain!
Thro' HYS remarkably Echoin',
Non-human, hynne 'Yont human!
VERRA SKYE-RUMBLIN'!
Noo unco earthily uttered:

YE, WOLF-WOUNDED!
AN’ PROUD, IN BLACK TARTAN O’ WAR
MUFFLED,
KEEK AT ME! KEEK AT ME NOO!
IN NAE TAE EARTHLY TOWMOND!
DO NOO HYNNE LISTEN TAE ME!
YE, NOO FYRE-IRONCLAD WOUNDED!
THE HYE NORLAND GODS INTAE OWRE FYRE
STYLLE HYNNE HONORIN'!
BETTYR BIDE AN' DIE OAN THE NOBLE BATTLEFIELD GORY,
AN' STYLLE, 'YONT BAITH LIEFES AN' DEATH,
FORE'ER ALIVE HYNNE BE!
THEYNE BIDE A MISERABLE LIEFES!

WULFE BLŌDGA HEONAN!
ÞŪ BLADESUNGA OND LÉOMENA HEOFONFYR,
WACA BYRNSWEORDES WIÐ GEHATUM!

FOR DAINGEROUS! VERRA, INTAE THE FEUDAL FYRE DEEP, IT! DAINGEROUS!
MUST TREOWE IDEAS, IN VERRA HYE LOWES, BE!
FOR THE VERRA MICHTY, WHYTE ZENITH-SUNNE
AN' THE ALLWAYES UNKOWN MIRK DEATH!
THE SAME THAY! GREAT THOR'S NORLAND ORRAH! ARE,
FOR THE SELECTED FEUDAL MAN, IRONCLAD HE!
AS YE, IN THAE HYE LOWES, UNCO ARE!
NOO AFORE ME! INTAE THE AULD LONE TARGE-REFLECTION
THAD IS, WAES, AN' SHALL IT BE, THINE!
HYNNE, HEARE AH AM! FOR FRAE THE AULD SHIELD-MIRROR YER RICHTE SKYE-VENGENCE!
FOR YER AIN SKYE-FORM AFORE YE HATH RISEN NOO!
FOR FREISH VALUES ARE NOO OWRE NEEDED!
WI'IN DEEP PRIMAL SKYE-FYRE UNCO SKYE-LIVED!
SAE, SKYE-LIVE THAIM! UNCO DRAM THAIM A’!
WHATE'ER THE RISK INFERNAL, AN' MOORLAN AMBUSH!

GÁSTCWALE HELRÚNENA FORNÉÐAN,

THRO’ HYE BLUISH SKYE-LOWES, SKYE-DESTROYIN’ THAY
WI’IN YER AIN LONE SKYE-VOICE IT NOO!
FRAE AFARRE! FRAE UNCO AFARRE RUMBLIN’,
FOR CURSED IS THE FLEETIN' HOUR!
AN' SAE MUST BE CONQUERED, IT! GREAT ORRAH! AYE!
IN YER SUPERIOR BLUID NOO O'ERHUMAN, MINE AIN!
FOR BRANDED HAE AH
RUDDY SKYE-FLESH O’ MINE
THAD WAES, IS, AN’ SHALL IT BE!
BY THYS VERRA, VERRA SKYE-IMAGE HYNNE,
YER AIN!
WI’ THE IYCE-CROSS FIERY
FRAE HYE THE THUNDIR’S LOUD VOICE,
IN NAE WHISPER DAMNABLE, NOR AIRN-FOREIGN!
AH NOO ORRA TELL:
YER SYMMETRICAL LONE SKYE-FORCE:
THE VERRA LONE THUNDIR-BLUID!
YER AIN LONE SKYE-WRAITH IRONCLAD!
THRO' ETERNAL SKYE-POW’R,
AN' OUT O’ THE BLUISH LONE SKYE-REVENGE
O’ER AN’ O’ER UNCO, O’ERHUMANLY MIRRORIN’!
TO YE HYNNE OWRE IN DEEP FYRE RETURNIN’,
YER AIN WANTIN’ SKYE-HALF, HYNNE!
TH'GITHER WI’ YER SKYE-SPIRIT!
IN HYE LOWES NOO UNTO THE CORE SKYE-DABBED!
A' THIS! A’ THIS! AH SAY! AH TRULY YELL!
TH'GITHER WI' THE LAST SKYE-PRIZE!
INTAE HYE THE SKYE-BLAZE,
THE HAIL ENEMY LAND HARSH NOO
FRAE CAULD HORIZON TO CAULD HORIZON
OWRE CROSSIN’,
A' THIS! A' THIS! AH ALLON, TRULY!
YER MIRROR SKYE-DOWBILL IMMORTAL!
THRO' STEEL CORE-METALLIC, IN HYE SKYE-FYRE AM!
ABYSMAL LAVA-BLUID O’ MINE!
FLOWIN’
FRAE HYE RED HEL, IT! THY LANE BEHOLD!
YER AIN!
INTAE DEEP THE FUSION-GLARE,
BLASTED SKYE-FURNACE IT!
UNREACHABLE, UNFATHOMABLE, MOST TANGIBLE, IT!
THE VERRA FRAME
LESURELY, NEXT TO YE IN BATTLE
STROLLIN’!
THE LONE INCARNATION
AN’ THE SKYE-ROAR
FRAE THE VERRA THUNDERBOLT
YE WERE LOOKIN’ FOR
HYNNE YER FUTURE, YER BYGANE:
NAE DIFFERENCE! THAA ARE MINE AIN!
INTAE THE HYE FYRE, FRAE YER TANGIBLE
SKYE-WILL! THAD AH NOO HEARE AM,
FOR SKYE-ENERGY CANNAE DERIVE FRAE NOTHINGNESS!
NOR UNTO NOTHINGNESS KIN IT RETURN!
HYNNE WILL, 'YONT DEATH,
THRO' THE LANG AN’ BLUISH
SKYE-LOWE
YE WERE LOOKIN’ FOR,
IMMORTAL AS CONQUERIN' PROVES,
STILL, WI'IN RAGIN' AN' VISCERAL
DEEP PRIMAL FYRE, YER AIN!
FOR YE SHALL STILL LIVE YER LIFE AGAIN,  
THIS TYME INTAE THE HYE SKYE-POW'R!
WI' ITS NEW ESSENCE SELF-OVERCOME,
HYNNE DO UNCO LIVE NOO!
THAD VERRA GORE HEARE,
FRAE MY BLEEZAN OPEN SCARS, YER AIN!
FOR THE WORN PAST DWELLS DEFEATED
IN THE FUTURE AS EMPOW'RED!
INTAE THE STEEL-BLUISH IMAGE AH HEARE AM!
NOO AFORE THINE SKYE-BLINDED EYES
THRO' THE LONE HYE LOWE WOUNDED,
THAD ARE ALSO MINE!
IN NAE SPECTRAL FYRE, HYNNE!
STICK-AN-STOWE, AN' VERRA VERRA SUNE!
YER AIN!
WI'IN THE HYE ZENITH-THUNDIR HYNNE,
YE WERE LOOKIN' FOR,
O'ER AN' O'ER FORE'ER LIVIN',  
AN' THRO' THE HIELAND FLOWIN 'LAVA:
THE BECOMIN' IN POW'R FORE'ER RENEWED
THRO' THAD SKYE-BLUID HYNNE!  
FLASHINGLY STREAMIN'
AS A CONQUERIN' WYLD FYRE-RIVER
FRAE NOBLE HYNNE SUPERIOR GORE,
DOWNE, DOWNE!
INTAE THE VERRA WHYTE CHASM, AN' FLASHIN' ABYSS!
FRAE YON SHARP AN' SHININ' AN' TOWERIN' MIRK ROCKS!
AN' THIS SACRIFICIAL BLUISH BLUID INCANDESCENT
FRAE O'ERHUMAN LIFE STILL WOUNDED, MINE!
WAES, AN' IS, AN' SHALL IT BE!
BEHOLD YE! UNCO SEE YE, NOO!
YE, O'ERHUMANLY BLINDED!
HE WHA! THE DREARY VOID O' DARKNESS
CANNAE, CANNAE! IN ANY MANNER NOO KNOW!
HYNNE IN HIELAND SKYE-RAGE,
AN' HYE! O'ER THE FEUDAL THRONE IMMORTAL,
AN' HEARE! OAN THE SURFACE O' THIS SKYE-MIRROR!
WAES, AN' IS, AN' SHALL IT BE!
WI'IN THE MELTIN' UNTO THE COSMIC CORE
SKYE-GLARE, YER AIN!
AN' NOO! DO ADVANCE!
DO TAKE A STROLL INTAE THE HYE SKYE-GORE!
GANG AYONT! GANG AYONT! AH SAY!
'YONT EVERYTHING! ‘YONT LIFE AN’ DEATH E’EN!
GANG AYONT!
AN' WHATE SHALL YE IN THE END SEE?
AT THE BOTTOM O' THE WHYTE CHASM FIERY?
YER FLASHIN' IN AIRN IMAGE ALONE!
THAD IS MINE AIN!
HEE HAW, HEE HAW ELSE, AH SAY!
WI’IN THE SPECULAR SKYE-POW'R INCARNATED,
THE VERRA SUM AN’ COMMUNION O’ THE ETERNAL TENSIONS
IN BECOMIN’ DWELLIN’ AH HEARE AM!
THRO’ THE LOUD SING FRAE THE THUNDIR HYNNE!
BY HYE SKYE-VENGEANCE FORE’ER INCREASIN',
O'ER AN' O'ER TO YER SPIRIT HYNNE RETURNIN',
YERS HYNNE MINE!

When noo, Great Warlike Orrah!
Upon thae Verra Words, thro’ my Ain
By noo Thundir-Voice!
In an' unco Skye-Rumblin',
Wi'in Thad O'erhuman Blaze wi' hye force condensin'
Intae a NEW THUNDIR-FRAME Skye-Concrete
In aspects o' PURE BLUISH HEAT!
HUMAN ALTOGETHER NAE LONGER, IT! tone,
Ah distinctly hearin’,
When noo, Guid Sundrum's Orrah!

The Fyre-Bringer:

FÝRHEARD HEREWULF OND HEREWÆÐA

A Thoosan Black Banners, in Hye Glorious Lowes,
Orra issuin’,
An’ wnto yon Whyte Chasm the Salute wavin’,
Wi’ the Hue o’ Red-Hel IT imbuin’,
HE, Hynne Ah: the Freish an’ Auld Titan
Far awa, far awa! wi'in the Dreary Caucasus!
Frae ayont yon Suthron, hynne!
Ah kin clearly see!
Rebel hynne Creator, HE!
HE, Creator hynne Rebel!
The OVERMAN! comin’ o’er, still approachin’,
Intae noo deep the Skye-Dance Everlastin’
Thro’ HYS AIN hynne MINE
Skye-Thunderous Sound
Ah waes lookin’ for,
Dominatin’,
Frae Thae Simmetrical Verra Fyre-Mirrors!
Still glarin’
Ne’er e’er to yield, the Twa Skye-Surfaces!
Nor in human, tae human!
Unco Gory Misery, nor Skye-Foreign Blasphemy,
Nor Damnable an' Cowardly Affront
To e'er wane!
At length thro' the Hye Vigour Supreme
Frae the Overwill Alone!
Dearest o’ Mine! Inner Energy Abysmal:
Still Uknown, IT!
An’ in Skye-Reverge freed!
A Thoosan Black Banners, in Fyre, Ah say!
HE, hynne Ah issuin’,
When noo, Great Guid Orrah!
The Skye-Bluid o' the OVERMAN:
Theis! oan Thae Countless Mirk Banners floatin'
In Hye Honour o' the Zenith-Sunne!
Wi'in abysmal whyte runes waes noo graven,
Hye Selective an' Skye-Supreme proved!
Nae, nae IT, for all!
For nae everybody is worth withstandin'
The Return o' Pow'r's Noble, an' Flashin'
Supreme Force, an' Infinite Speed, an' Spiral Revolution!

CÁFNES ÞRÝÞBORD,

Tae the Skye-Limitless fore’er,
In the Form o’ Hye Steel Feudal
Skye-soarin’,
ITS Verra Great, Verra Guid,
Great Guid Auld Carham’s Orrah!
Burnan Wheill o’ Universal Core-Energy
Skye-Central, Skye-Abysmal, IT!
Alongside the Rational Force frae the Thundir-Impetus
Thad waes, is, an’ shall IT be the OVERMAN’S AIN!
In Hye Lowes increasin’,
Tae the Skye-Infinite, hynne!
Most Renewed, most Identical,
Intae the Verra Spiral most Empowered!
The Worthy ENS, unco hynne Joyful, IT!
Immortal owre feastin’,
For intae Thae Rapid Coils o' Glorious Fyre hynne,
Frae Thys MICHTY TARGE O' SKYE-ENERGY PERENNIAL!
Nae for all! Immortality is solemnly worth
Thro' Thad Increasingly Growin'
Feudal Skye-Rebirth Steel-Mirrorin'!
Wnto ragefully Bluish-Ablaze an' Core-Feudal
Noble Hye Perfection!
An' in Eternal Steel Unconditional, IT!
Dwellin',
The Human, tae Human!
Gory Chains o’ Promethean Slavery
Bluish wi’ the Verra Reverberation
Frae the Lightnin’ O’erhuman
Ah waes lookin’ for,
They suddely becam!
An’ at length, Great Warlike Orrah!
The Lonesome Blindin’ Frame o’ Gowd,
Wha’s Sole Hye Thundir-Naim

Overman Skye:

SCEAWERES IREN-EALWEALDA

IT orra waes! Frae the Twa Dazzlin' Mirrors
In Perfect Symmetry emanated wi’in
The RETURN O’ POW’R!
Burnan’ Vortex-Event Universal, IT!
In Slender Lines o’ Whyte Fyre,
The Verra Core Heat
Reachin’,
Intae Infinite Reflections o’ Primordial Pow’r
Frae the Twa Lookin' Glasses, Blindin' They!
O’er All, Great, Great IT!
Njörður's ain Battle Orrah!
Limitless Dominion, an’ the Feudal Rule
Steel-haudin’,
WHILEAS WAES AH! WAES AH!
GUID, VERRA GUID EILEAN DONAN'S
WAR-TARTAN ORRAH!
STYLLE CHAINED IN BLUISH GORE, MY AIN!
HYNNE THE OVERMAN'S AIN, TAE!
WNTO THE AULD AN' HYE! VERRA SKYE-HYE, IT!
THUNDIR-GLEAMIN' BLUID-ROCK O' SKYE-SACRIFYCE:
NAE LONGER! NAE ORRA SKYE-LONGER!
An’ ITS central Rays an’ the Verra Lowes
Intae Ane Flashin’ Ironclad *****
Polarizin’,
A Thoosan Tymes Greater, Mightier hynne:
The OVERMAN!
O’er an’ o’er unto me returnin’,
‘Yont the Reddenin’ Pillars o’ Immortal
Skye-Renown!
‘Yont Death, the Mirk Unknown!
An’ ITS Feud-Foreign Fear,
Whyle, lo! the Steel-Vibration gleamin’
Frae Máni's ain Verra Crescent,
Dusky-Red, IT!
Waes, waes, in yon Murky West
Still IT unco risin',
Unfathomable, an' Potent, an' Dreary,
Unto the Stane Circles’ Builders
Wounded frae Life, at Skara Brae,
Appearin’,
At right angles to the Chain-Mailed *****
Noo orra descedin’
To cross the Region o’ the Heart:
Let IT fall intae the Verra Abyss!
Yet the Sceadewe! Great Wotan's Orrah!

ÓÐENES HÁLIGE CRAWE,

IT stylle leisurely stood,
In Hys Mirk Bluid Bleedin’,
Crossed hynne by the Verra Thunderbolt!
Ah waes lookin’ for,
An’ Hys, frae Kyng Rædwald the Gift!
Mask o’ War IT, lo!
Wi’ Black Fyre bleedin’,
Upon the Cauld Soil, together wi’ Hys Cloak,
Waes IT thrown,
Hynne Hys Mirk Warlike Self unveilin’,
Still Mine Ain!
Nae Gory Fear! tae owre hide:

SCEAD UNDER HELME HEARD BIÞ,
MĪN FORESCÝWA RÉADAÞ.
Divided into distinct narrative phases, each with its own title, this poem, or rather epic of mine, illustrates the story of a wanderer, of Scandinavian origin, in the Highlands of XI Century Scotland, the narrator himself, as searching for an ultimate superhuman identification, specular in kind. While covered with martial iron, he thus seeks a lightning to strike him deep, as this only can grant the encounter with his own mirror image, his own Superior Other-Self, or the Overman himself. The tone is archaic Scots and highly conceptual with, possibly, some experiments in the language. Fundamental philosophical notions of mine are thus propounded, as in the end merging into a final scene of an absolute energetic gravity. The last verse is entirely in Anglo-Saxon, with a reference to the Sutton Hoo helmet, hence to king Rædwald of East Anglia, as accordingly mentioned. Each title is directly linked to the text. “Skye” reads “Sky”, in further reference, also, to the Isle of Skye, in the Inner Hebrides. "Hynne" (also "heyne", which latter I employed in my composition "Gowlin' Storne") is archaic Scots for "hence".
Kunzite Hewitt Aug 2010
First, I would like to introduce Grayasety. She was a young girl, had soft strands of medium-short caramel hair, and she had green-blue eyes that looked like miniature earths. She was indeed a pretty girl and she was of average height, and had a healthy body. She also had a slight southern drawl; her mother was from Texas. She loved going on boat voyages as her father was the captain of a ship named Gray Asety, named after Grayesty, so she was often training to go on voyages.
                  One morning, just like any other ordinary morning, Grayasety left her house for the next-door stable with her baby sitter, Kinberly, which was part of her father’s crew.  Today was the big day, the day when Grayasety was going to go on a voyage with her father as an official crewmember. Today was Grayasety’s 13th birthday; today was the day when she was old enough to work on her father’s ship! Therefore, she gaily whistled and skipped along the road. It had always been her dream to work on her father’s ship, and today, finally, her dream was coming true. When she got to the stable she blew her small, pink whistle that, to human ears would make no sound, and like every morning her best friend, (which had the ability to morph into animals) trotted tiredly out of the stable in the form of a beautiful brown mare. The huge animal yawned and said, “Morning Kin!” And then addressing Grayasety she said, “ Well, well, little missy what do you want me to be today?” Today Grayasety wanted Mila to be a green parrot, Grayasety was obsessed in the color green, and Mila had reluctantly obeyed, the trio set off for the fresh smelling bay.
Kinberly, and Mila worked on the Gray Asety. Mann Forumest, or Captain Daddy as Grayasety called him had met Grayasety’s mom working as a crewmember on the Majesty, a steamboat. Grayasety’s mother, Magnolia Scott Forumest was the assistant cook. They married, but kept their jobs until one day when Grayasety was about five, the Sea Bandits, a notorious group of pretty woman stealers, kidnapped Her mother.
                        While on sea, Grayasety shared a rather large suite in the ship with her father. In the Bedroom were two desks, one big and one small, and in the corner was a bunk bed, the top bunk badly painted in green and the bottom bunk still bearing its natural mahogany color. Grayasety was sitting in her little green desk, scribbling madly in her deep green diary. Grayasety *** a liking of scribbling and those who have know her long enough could read her scribbles like one would writing. She could read and write although she was nowhere near a strait A student.
                   After a while Grayasety decided to bother her father and, forgetting to switch into her lime green boots, shinnyed up the main stairs to the deck in her faded fluffy mint green slippers. Mila, perched comfortably on Grayasety’s shoulder, started telling her that she was wearing her slippers when Grayasety shoved a faded green pacifier in Mila’s mouth; Grayasety often did this to keep Mila quiet.
Mila, not enjoying the dusty, stale taste of the pacifier unhappily decided to keep her mouth shut until Grayasty got in a better mood. In truth Grayasety was in a marvelous mood and rather liked shoving pacifiers in Mila’s mouth. As the girl got closer to the deck, she started to hear chanting from the kind crew. She especially heard Kinberly’s familiar raspy voice chanting,” Laaa dee daaa, the Gray A rolls along,” and as she emerged to the *****, wet deck she noticed that her father was talking to someone else already. “Botherin’ will have to wait some,” she whispered to Mila. Then she took the pacifier out of Mila’s mouth and scolded,” why didn’t you tell me that I was still wearin’ my slippers eh? Wanted to make me look like an idiot?” Mila simply rolled her eyes.
                    Right then, Captain Daddy, apparently finishing his conversation, came over to the pair and said affectionately, “How are my darlings doin’ today?” Mila especially enjoyed this for Captain Daddy always gave a loving stoke on her back and a whole chocolate chip cookie if he had one. Although Grayasety always stole some of the cookie Mila was happy enough with half. Grayasety, on the other hand was happy with a whole cookie so she begged Captain Daddy to give her another one. Captain Daddy gave her another cookie but chided her not to steal any more from Mila.
                    After the lecture on not stealing other people’s food, Grayasety clambered up the crow’s nest and almost knocked over Franz, a tall, but gaunt boy a couple years older then Grayasty getting in. ”Anythin’ unusual yet?” asked Grayasety hopefully. “Nope,” answered the calm boy quietly. ”Hi Franz. Do you have any cookies?” asked Mila mockingly, Franz just laughed and said,” If I had any I would of eaten it by now! Gray, can you get me somethin’ from the kitchen?”.
                   Grayasety got Franz a basket of food and got her self the same amount; Grayasety was basically always hungry, and had a little picnic on the roomy crow’s nest. After they finished their meal Grayasety decided to let Franz rest and did lookout. Franz had a small room to himself, which was about the size of a normal bathroom with all the stuff taken out. In the corner was an old, squeaky army cot and next to it was a rotund desk with a stack of blank paper, a jar of Indian ink, and a fountain pen laid precariously on it.
                    Franz was quite a writer and he spent his free time eating, sleeping, or writing and unlike Grayasety he actually wrote not scribbled. He was working on a story about gargoyles that came to life at night. It was an interesting story, really. He would of loved to stop working on the Gray Asety and go get his books published but he stayed for his family was a poor one and needed his help to make a living and also, Captain Forumest provided free paper. And, his daughter was the first friend he ever had; Franz was convinced that she was the best one.
                   Grayasety enjoyed being on ships. She liked feeling the cold air rush through her hair and she enjoyed the great view of the vast sea that surrounded her. She even liked the feeling of being so small compared to the humpbacks that swam by. She thought that the ship food was good, and she felt that the sea was truly where she belonged. Grayasety was very cranky when she was not at sea, (though she did like their big, ocean green house), so her father tried to include her on as many voyages as he could.
                     Captain Daddy, or Mann as I will call him spent most of day in a booth on the deck. He often worried about his daughter’s mental health (even though it was completely unnecessary). He talked to Grayasety’s doctor about this and Dr.Metalos, Grayasety’s doctor, gave them a list of mental deceases she could have, but none of them seemed like some thing she would have. Mann was sure that his daughter did not have one sickness; Much Too Much Time At The Sea Syndrome. If any one knew where Grayasety belonged it was Mann and he knew perfectly well that his daughter would go insane if she wasn’t at sea for too long. For one thing she preferred to sleep on her uncomfortable bunk at sea rather then on her fluffy green bed as soft as a feather at home.
                        Right then the ship did a tummy- flopping lurch and knocked off the map and compass from Mann’s desk, which interrupted his thoughts for a while. Below deck Franz’s desk toppled over, and Franz accidentally made a long and ugly scribble across his writing and on the crow’s nest Grayasety was having trouble standing up and she almost vomited right onto Kinberly’s hair. This was rare for Grayasety for she lived on the sea and was used to lurches; she had once survived a shipwreck, which explains her golden earring on her right earlobe.
                   That night as Grayasety lay in bed Mann quietly crept out of his bunk and scurried up the stairs to the deck. He wanted some time to himself. Ahead was Cape Horn; a very dangerous place where so many ships had sunk it could fill the biggest port in the world, but more personally, this was near the Sea Bandits main head quarters, 8 years ago the beautiful Magnolia Scott Forumest was captured here. Even though it was impossible in the foggy mist, Mann tried to make out the cave that marked the entrance to the headquarters. Only few people knew this entrance, and publicity stated that it was a “mere mystery” why most captives were capture near Cape Horn. Mann felt a chill run down his spine and then he thought he felt someone’s hand grab his shoulder. He looked down and saw what he dreaded most; a hand tinged with brown firmly held his shoulder.
                      Grayasety woke up feeling wonderful but apparently Mila didn’t. She kept screeching something about Captain Daddy being kidnapped and soon she found that what Mila had just screeched in her ear was true. She stormed into Franz’s cabin and told him what she discovered and they soon agreed to do what no one else wanted them to do; steer the boat right into the Sea Bandits’ headquarters and take back what, and who was theirs no matter how hard it could be.
                      Grayasety had Franz steer the boat and she herself navigated, Kin was lookout and the rest of the crew helped out. Franz dropped the passengers off at Puerto, and Mila morphed back into a human; what she really is, and helped out. Separated from the frenzy, Grayastey was quietly thinking to herself. She wondered why the Sea Bandits captured her father. They were well known for capturing pretty woman but not average looking men. Just then she heard a knock on the door. “Grayasety?” said the raspy voice of Kin. “There ya are. I just thought ya might wanna know why ya daddy was captured.” “Can you please tell me,” asked Grayasety, trying not to sound too eager. “Well rememba when ya daddy would be gone when ya woke up at mid night an’ I told ya that he had gone to the store to get some groceries? Well if you had thought some you woulda noticed that the store was closed.” Grayasety interrupted Kin in mid-sentence and said irritably, “Of course I rememba. Just get to the point Kin!” Kin flinched at Grayasety’s frustration and mumbled,” Well ya daddy was a spy. One of the best ones at that. He did all he could to stop organized crime, an’ he specialized in the Sea Bandit’s. They captured him ‘cause one less police the better for them.” Grayasety sat with her mouth hanging wide open. She never imagined that her father was a spy. But now every thing made sense. “ Sorry I didn’t tell ya before. Ya fatha simply wouldn’t allow it.” Kin apologized. Grayasety managed a squeak and then Kin left her.
                      After she repeated this to Franz and then Mila, Grayasety went down to her bedroom, she hated having to be near Her father’s belongings but she hated having people see her crying much more and cry she did, leaving her father’s mattress a soggy mess. Then she decided to clean that mess up for if they rescued her father she was sure he did not want to sleep in a soggy bed. Noticing it, she picked up her dad’s picture of her dad and mom’s wedding and became suddenly aware of how much she looked like her dad. The hair, the eyes, the quirky grin, every thing. Her mother had soft blonde hair and violet eyes that almost made you smell the pungent smell of lavenders and had a beautiful smile with bright red lips. All in all she was the most beautiful woman Grayasety had ever seen. She almost made Grayasety feel jealous.
                     “Hey! Gray. So are we gonna bring any weapons? Kin was a whole chest full of ‘em!” Said the distinctively low voice of Franz. “Well, I dunno. I suppose we should bring a couple guns. Always nice to be well prepared.” Replied Grayasety.

                     Franz was on lookout when the carrier pigeon came. The note it had on its leg was from Mann. It said:

Dear Grayasety and friends,

Do not come to save me. I’m with my wife in their dungeon but they want you guys to come too. You see, I’m like a bait. You’re the fishies. They want to erase all traces of the Forumest family. That means they have to dispose of those who would remember them. I will manage okay. Kin, Please take Grayasety and Franz home and forget about me for you and the children’s sake. Grayasety, I love you. Dispose all of my belongings and try to tell yourself that Kin is your mother. Believe me. It’s all for the better. Franz, I meant to tell you but your parents caught tuberculosis and died the other day. Your sister committed suicide soon after. Please take care of Grayasety.

             Mann

                    The trio stood silent for a long moment and then without warning Franz burst into tears, and scrambled to his cabin. Kin and Grayasety looked at each other sadly and went to their cabins themselves. Grayasety tried to sleep that night but images of Mann and her mother strapped up in chains kept her staring into the darkness with wide eyes. She reached over and got her personal music player, trying to distract herself but after a few seconds she turned it off again, for she could not bear listening to the lyrics; “It’s past midnight and something evil’s lurking 'round the dark” of Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”.
            The next morning, Mila and Kin steered the boat near the cave that marked the entrance to the Sea Bandits secret headquarters. Mila then morphed into a seagull and flew into the old, damp cave. From a safe distance Grayasety and her crew awaited Mila to return with some news. After swooping into the creepy cave Mila found the opening to the headquarters and perched on a ledge near it. There, she morphed into a rat, and scurried up into the opening.

                 After crawling along several hallways, Mila came across a steel door bolted very firmly marked “CELLS”. Luckily Mila was small enough to crawl under it. Scurrying along the bureau of prisons, Mila finally saw a cell with Mann and a stunningly beautiful woman captured in it. Mila slipped between the bars and trying not to gain the woman’s attention for fear that she would scream, climbed the steep hill of Mann’s arm to try to reach his ear. “Mann?? Don’t make any sound OK?? I’m Mila. I’m the rat on your shoulder. Kin, Grayasety, and Franz say they miss you a lot.” Whispered Mila. Then she saw a humongou
A short story instead of a poem, but I hope you enjoy!
Any corrections, edits, suggestions etc. and greatly aprecciated!
Cartwright Mar 2010
When you go out and hear a person that say
" I Could Give A Rats ***"
that's when you step up to them and say just two words to them: "MICKEY MOUSE"

When you see that Commercial with the Duck :
You gotta Repeat
"A FLACK"

When you see a Security Guard wearin Mickey Mouse ears,
What do you sing out when you need help?
" M.I.C.K.E.Y M.O.U.S.E
Mickey Mouse ohoo hoo,
Mickey Mouse:
**** Funky Security Guard.
Christopher Nathaniel Cartwright
Copyright © 1983-Present
RW Dennen Sep 2014
Around the eighties the Mumers New Year Parade in Philly
lost a bit of its tradition. It originally was made for
the average working family. But around this period
people were charged to watch them do their famous strut
and extra displays of course only at City Hall.
And so let us begin my poetic story...


Standin' among the crowd,
watchin' blue police-van-bleeders
being escorted; wearin' city-steel-wrist-braclets

And now struttin' my way,
psychopathic eclipsers
of physical freedom
seekin' potential comatose heads
to tap

And squads of finger thrusters
of back pockets for targets,
dart in and out of crowds,
quickly countin' their *****
in dark unseen places

Feet freeze
as sounds travel,
" Oh dem golden slippers"
soundin' like cheap tin toy Kazoos
and toy glockenspiels

The wind kisses
my **** end blue
as a flyin' Budweiser
kisses my right foot wet

Man made pop art
reflects the times
at the times
at Broad and Spruce
of cigarette butts,
chocolate wrappers,
and crushed beer cans
climaxin' montage
of the mountain- ****** eighties

Boozers and blue
sweet puffers
wearin' smiles
outside
and within most inner thoughts
puff-buffed away from some reality
step in cadence to their
own music within themselves

And wailin' children
havin'
more sense
than adults
become early sacrifices
to the fruit of Bacchus

The marching high strutters of "Big Bird",
they strain and struggle under the weight
of heavy hernia suits;
with feathers and sparklers,
their instruments wrestle as steamy air puffs shoot forward
from their nostrils
like  red-devil-painted-dragon faces
in the bitter cold air
warmly protected by their attire and *****,
they stop seemingly for eternity,
in the suspended purgatorial
halts
one after another,
only waitin'
for the grandstand reserved section
around City Hall
Yet we wait and pray together
that perhaps like in the older days
we will get a sneak of
a nostalgic, spontaneous,
free dance-strut
that never comes

Attached, yet unattached
and cryin' inside;
always on guard
for flyin' and drunkin' fists
or flyin' articles
of all sizes
Seein'  through
the facades of we must act
like ha! ha! ha!
I cry inwardly
with anger
doin' the rat-tat-tat
of no more nonsense
of my inner-self
Strivin' and movin' to flee Freddie Kruger's bladed fingers
I sting all over,
my teeth clinch with anger,
darkness intensified
The crowd becomes uglier,
blackness
engulfs
black souls
Vehement, crazy,
hordes and hordes of frustration bellows
outward
The call of Nietzche,
The ouch under my skin

This damnable real parade
not shown in Liberace-livin'-Color

No commercial breaks of luxury cars
that drive livin' manikins
Livin' manikins that wear dial under their arms
while smilin' the brand of Crest toothpaste
but instead,
a street drunk with
broken ugly teeth
as he begs for quarters
and blows his odorous breath
beyond description

And City Hall payin'-grandstanders
with tv cameras
bein' in the spirit of "Disneyland"
presents
the overly organized narcissistic prostituted
elegance of forever, floatin', bouncy,
dancy, prancy,
skippin' to the tune
of  mom's Apple pie,
a small slice of my reality

And the applaudin' money makin'
TV grandstanders
of goody goody
look mom I can do the swan dance
while holdin' multiple
colored sparklers
wrapped in feathers
But why must I
see through the eyes of a Godless Nietzsche,
**** it!!
David Nelson Sep 2011
Rat Farts

Once again me and my baby have split
now I'm all alone and feeling like doodoo
Im bettin' for sure you thought I'd say ****
can't talk like that when I'm wearin' my tutu

the Doobies in the background rockin' it out
smoked one myself now at least I am writing
stuffing my face with my homemade sour *****
next on my jukebox is a song 5 for fighting

I usually can find a good way to ***** up
too often my mouth gets in the way of my brain
I once stood in front of the asylum with a cup
trying to convince everyone that I was insane

one more hit should make the trip complete
crap, now I spilled a bowl of chili on my shorts
sitting here staring at the warts on my feet
another trip to the doc what can I say but rat farts  

Gomer and Morpheus
Hanson Yang Sep 2018
the new tupac will have you too walkin with gangstas
the new two stupidity now two steppin with prankstas
murked the first one sayin he's blacker the berry
when i'm sweeter than juice
bass voiced top me if you want to experience that jacked tweeters induced
when i own all of Victoria's secrets as proof
tellin me what the body when all his deducement has him actin when he's wearin his shoes
crypt walking like that it's only talk
missed balking like has bass fits jocking as his only walk
******* with me when All Hailed Mary like if she was his when is only stolen balk
I'm walkin again the gauntlet cuz all the women they want this flauntin all **** like if i was jackin all the wanted
like ghost whippin me imma follow you till i'm haunted
pain really, so bow down, when my diamonds glisten
listen again is just as well bilateral biased has his confused his like the ol' eminem was in the new form gettin his face jacked again
like me smokin crack with friends like all given enemies stressed was all given was a race black and then
we actually are the same race like i knew you back like i owned all the streets like his females thuggin as heathen
**** riding i'll **** your *** up like settin me up when i'm always the last muthafucken breathin
exposing the ***** heathen breathin like if you were the only man catching bullet rounds exposed like the new you was still alive
to the next ** hiked my socks up construed you at hit stupidity when will ride
ghettos owned by just the black reppin when you're steppin the whack, honest it was just onyx
i'll blast your *** like if you stole my pump shotty:
like i never was wanted runst follies
anamoly run has all criminal cops all fathering fun deceiving that all to gain was never greed when all greed in need bothering sons:
all you still down with me when we ride it
looking like a *** while i'm guy gee stag when you're looking into their eyes, they'd know comparison of a bird control as if fathering guys
my knowledge is flight applauding the time, are you still down with me
i hide behind the love of beauty of my womens eyes when you're looking like the female opened you up to your face compared to opening thighs
they don't know like how you stare in the future that tommorow comes only after the dark
knowing me marks the coming of the actual god
I am "unconditional heart"
PJ Poesy Mar 2016
Be so fractioned
my split personality be split
Never know who's comin' out
Kinda like the laundry mat
Does mine at the Wishy Washy

Funny how things get all separated
Whites all in a pile over here
Darks and colors over there
Breaks it down even further

Gotta lotta red
so that gets its own pile
whilst medium and light colors
be divided

Blacks and blues
just lumped together
Then it just gets all mixed up again

'Cause truth is
don't gots the dough to through
down that many loads

This riles Señorita Clarita
Thinks I'm cheap
so mostly, I end up lookin' like some
techno tie-dyed fruit basket
in girly pants

Yeah, still be wearin'
my sister's hand-me-downs
Be some hard times for
The Poet Launderette
Just hangin' out.
Aaron LaLux Jun 2016
Shots Fired

The ghost of Freddie Gray,
rest in a shallow grave,
they say this is “The Land of The Free”,
so why they still treat us like slaves?

The current policed state of the Police State,
gives serious cause for alarm,
I Can't Breathe Hands Up Don't Shoot!
see it’s the 21st Century there’s cell phones,
so now we have proof That that young black man was unarmed…

See the situation in Ferguson,
it’s far from certain when,
conditions are worsen and,
the people are still hurtin' and,
we don't even have time to mourn,
before the police **** another one,
6 more kids killed since Michael Brown,
the problem didn't start with Ferguson.

Seriously,
it's got me thinking "What's going on?",
but I’m more Queen than Marvin Gaye,
still straight away they shot another one,
BANG,

and another one BANG,
and another one BANG,
and another one bites the dust…
BANG!

Just ask the family of Rumain Brisbon,

shot by an officer,
who mistook a bottle of pills for a gun,
the officer leaves behind two hot Glock shells,
while Brisbon leaves behind a daughter and a son,

then there's Eric Gardner,
who's ****** was caught on tape,
undercover cops strangled him to death with an illegal chokehold,
left the general public in dismay and disarray,
his only crime was selling some cigarettes,
but the cops killed him in a hurry,
this was an obvious homicide,
still no inditement by the **** Grand Jury!

So come really,
if we can't even get a single conviction,
on a single cop,
for a single shot shot without permission,
then what hope is there left to hope in,
it's as if the rope is tied around my neck and I'm chokin',
I thought to provoke a riot instead I decided to make this thought provokin',
if the pen mightier than the sword,
then we need to write a way right away to get these closed cases re-opened!

They say that just to have a driver's license is a privilege not a right,
while They make us feel like it’s a privilege just to survive in this life,
it shouldn't have to feel like a privilege just to survive,
while they're taking everything from us including our rights and our lives,
and the media tries to force us to take sides,
like I am against blacks because I'm white,
yeah cops have killed a lot of Black kids,
but that fact is that cops **** more Whites,
because it's not the color of the skin I’m in,
it's the color of the suit that one’s wearin,’
that really decides who's on who's side,
so who’s gonna live,
and who’s gonna die?

Boys in blue with a badge to **** at will,
anxiety of the All Seeing Eye on me makes me feel ill,
so much stress,
I can't take it,
I'm at home all alone,
laying in bed naked,
thoughts of dying brothers,
and crying mothers,
all done by undercover killers undercover,
they **** like ****,
where's Will.i.am,
"Where's The Love", where's the lovers?

No more Fergie,
just more Ferguson,
no more Taboo,
just more taboo killings when,
will we finally have some peace,
Jesus,
we just,
need to be free but,
they have us caught under an iron fist,
book us in and take our fingerprints,
tap our phones and put us on 'the list',
I thought this was supposed to be,
the land of the free,
but what the fck is this?
Feeling like Eric Garner I can't breathe,
just give me a bit of room please,
can't I at least,
get some groceries without the PDs harassing me?

Jeez.

Meanwhile,
back on the front lines,
it's the 4th quarter,
crunch time,

while we shout out,
“Black Lives Matter!”
they’ve got their clubs out,
like “Swing batter batter!”

while we write rhymes,
and debate the details,
they're gearing up for war,
reading our emails with a pledged allegiance to an empire of evils,

coming in like Stormtroopers,
with automatic weapons and combat boots,
and the whole time we're standing there on the Front Lines,
waiving our arms up high like, ”Hands Up, Don't Shoot!"

∆ Aaron LA Lux ∆

The H Trilogy
Volume 1
7/7/16

Still No Justice No Peace...
Ferrin McGinness May 2014
there once was a woman named ferrin
who got sick of the skin she was wearin'.
so she tugged on the zipper
and let the world rip 'er
in half so she'd finally stop carin'!
In the beginning we were opposite
Started with a drop is it
I liked the way you moved and
soon felt the groove
You were digging me and I was feeling you
Fluid and smooth
Nothing left to prove
You would be the the death of me
Take away the rest of me
Almost imperceptible
You gouged your way in
Damage irreparable
Away at my layers you're wearin’
Others start to stare and
Empty I remain
You
I could not contain
Left me with no companion
I
Simply
A Grand Canyon.

-Luca Ivaldi
I still love her
JAM May 2015
Hello, allow me to introduce myself.
My name is Jocund, The Gardener.
Living lucid, a fellow mind traveler.

That’s kind of like a chill Childe wanderer
Of the flowing forest floor,
Feathered cotton or greening words
On the wind unravel-er;
Gone’a’wandering in untraveled soils,
A seed settler.

Tragedy left my face sneer metered,
Mouth stretched sideways,
Toothy as a dumb grinning jester.

Yearning to make one stupid gesture,
So you’ll see I’m not too interested in being above or lesser.
Just on a mission,
Learning how to be both student and teacher:

Drawing abyssal blueprints,
Joining the disillusioned,
Describing a dynamic curriculum
And coding oaths like Odin’s to bind Cosmic-Woden’s
--Mr. Omnipotent to us rodents—undying reticulum.


Re-programmed to generate runic music
Nomenclature shaped in the underlying resonating
That is every particle operating in unison.

So I'm riding the chronicled-Euclidean space-time continuum
Of balance known to us as equilibrium,
And can you feel me breathing?

It’s the giving and taking and pushing and pulling of gravity propagating,
Bending light under and rending sight of what will be and what has been.

Oh well,
[Where], (when), {how} I am is what matters most to me.

“Jinkies!”
“What is it Velma?!”
“I think that’s Relativity.”

So, speaking relatively
I’d rather deduce from what’s relevant to me,
Lather rinse and reduce the divine to dust in the winds of time,
And maybe see the truth behind {who}, [what], (why) I’m-

[{assburgian]}: high functioning and genius,
Mumbling, s-st-stutterin', tic tic-ing and tremblin’.
it's ****-chilling and tedious.

But wait! There’s more.

{(Bipolar}): slightly manic, and comically dramatic.
Severely depressed and in a silent panic.
Practically sleepless, it’s fairly fantastic.
My memory I mean,
If all my senses witness a scene
The info is sealed within me perfectly,
Perceptually and verbally,
Non-mutational, stability.

In the short term, unfortunately,
My focus is overloaded with scenery
Of bullies, abusers, and over-users.
It’s misery listening to scratched records on repeat,
Immune to wrecking.
For that I thank my ([ADHD)]: predominately inattentive
Wtih dsylixea, definitive alcoholism, drug addiction, and the list goes on.
So yeah, I’m on the spectrum, I’m a functional positron.

“That guy’s *******, He can’t even act right.
He’s emotionless, a mindless robot.
There’s no empathy in that golem.
That ugly alien’ll never be like you or me,
He’s clueless, aloof and downright foolish.
So let’s just forget that freak, he kinda scares us.”

Oh yeah?
Well keep that **** in your ******,
Order the facts and double check’em.

“We're not so different you, me, and them.
We just built a bent border 'round the word disorder.
Sure, that’s the preference, to make no inference.
Ignorance is bliss, right?”

For my defense?
Well golly-gee thanks, that’s all lovely and great.
But now the neurologically typical person
Thinks they can fix me, without knowing my burdens
Like, “you’s gots a d’zeez cuz’a factseens”

This "cray" **** gets me irate.
Diagnoseez wrapped in fear-mongering, seen with hate,
And convinced to wait for a miracle.
Well too bad so sad,
The difference is anatomical.
So treating me means training me
To be “normal, deviations nominal.”

(Am I ******’a dog, what the ****?!
Wait, back it up and mix that bit up.)
“What the ****, am I a ******’ dog?!
Oh, if they knew the truth they’d think I’m a ******* demigod.”
(Ha right, more like a log full buried eternally in'a boggle.)

My parents tried and tried for my birth,
They almost considered me impossible.
I was nearly inconceivable.
Then the multi-verse cursed,
And that message was receivable,
I heard it was a freakin’ miracle.
Not that mom cared, she was irresponsible.
Wanted to be a free mirth queen.

Aww, she just needed security.
Even after my birth on Friday 3/13/92 into a noose,
Loosely scorned and hardly lyrical.
They had to remove me surgically from the womb and
Now I've grown oddly into a super human body.

I’m physically atypical with an extra lumbar vertebra.
Some think me mythical, my hearts cage is even, part of a
Hard skeleton wearin’ *** appeal and a
Strong fresh sheath of flesh that’s quick to heal.
Ask me to speak, out comes a voice so deep you’d think the sky fell.

I’m mentally inexplicable,
Thinking in infinite Voices simultaneously painting imagery indefinitely.  
It has me lagging in a neuronal-conundrum.
I’m containing a brain wound up and
So over-wired it's redundant.

Making my head so heavy the ground is over-tired,
Barely overcoming addiction to dilating mundane details.
And a bit slow to obtain'em,
Those growing verbal-perceptual rains of information.
It's why I'm highly aware of the visual-spatial patterned puzzle pieces of existence.

So my mind is orbiting off in the distance,
Oblivious to non-verbal relation,
Just spaced-out communication.
I'm nearly incompatible
With most people in this global nation.
Everyone's got recipes for lemonade,
And I've got durian, that's **** ironical.
I told you, the difference is anatomical.
Can't be changed, so forget being normal tragically!

“That’s great and all,
But you still can’t communicate,
Associate,
Or surmount your human viewpoint
And recreate.
So what’s the point, you’ll never amount
And you shouldn't be allowed to procreate,
Just **** yourself.”

Shut the **** up, mate!
No one is beyond help,
And I'm in good health.
So who says I need your help.

I’m a catch-it-all trainer,
Long distance sprinter,
Heavy weight lifter,
Martial arts practitioner,
And Muay Thai fighter
Of the metaphysical plane or
Flyin’ my x-wing, taking out tie fighters.
Muckin’ up misinformed storm troopers,
Shovin’ **** back down their word poopers.

Yeah, I’ve tried playin’ The Game
That society designed.
But that sick joke
Was painfully lame.
And the punchline,
All but broke me.


I died philosophically.
Spent three days regenerating.
Re-writing my subconscious poetry
Like The Doct-uh,
The Boo-duh,
Or Mist-uh
Believe-in-me.

Pulverizing words into compost,
Composing metaphor to re-code seeds
Set to regrow self-trees from the ground up.
Splitting myself up into three categories,
(Mind), [body], and {me} all clowned up.

It is a truly significant allegory,
Greening my being with jocundity.
Creating profundity for gardening,
Generalizing and broadening the concept
And applying it metaphorically.

In the attempt
To join fantasy
With reality
And become truly
One with “we”;
Livin' and loven'in
Disparity and hilarity
Of you,
Me,
And every fellow
There is to see.

So, “hello
i am the gardener and
i am jocund and
…|[{(i am)}]|…
quite pleased
to meet
we.”
Aaron LaLux Sep 2019
an excerpt from THHT3: The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy Vol. 3

...See she says if we have *** she’ll feel guilty & regret it,
I don’t want to be one of her regrets, so I get gone to prevent it,
apparently she associates *** with trauma from her past,
& I don’t want to open old wounds because I’m sensitive,

still my sentiment makes me ask this,
since when, did our past begin to define us,
when it’s always been our present destiny that we manifest,
I don’t know I guess sometimes we forget & have to remind us,
that we angels albeit fallen & all of us are Heaven sent,
& sometimes only moments like this are where we truly find us,

that scent, on your skin, mixes with the wind,
sending signals, to my brain, to release serotonin,
sea breeze, coconut trees, please jeez I’m on my knees,
I’m ready, & willing to start when you are, just say when,

still, my sentiment makes me ask this,
since when, since were names so inappropriate,
Scarlet’s a darling sure, but far from a harlot that’s my word,
so far that actually she abstains, resisting like a soviet,

since when,
were you so absent from class that,
you forgot the basic fact that,
all women are divine even when abstinent,

honestly I’d rather be,
laying in this hammock with a Goddess that’s abstinent,
than rubbing while clubbing,
getting used by a drunken **** that will soon be a has been,
a has been that can’t get a reaction not even a fraction,
nope I want a genuine artist, not a bad act with bad actin’,

I want laughter I want rushes,
I want her because with her all of that comes in bunches,
her inner instinct is distinct,
& is much more than just what a hunch is,

a hunger for wonder, what’s for lunch kid?

Let’s have a picnic this instant & then get down to business,
actually let’s scrap the deal & forget all about business,
let’s get up let’s rise like the tides & ride like the winds,
let’s make some magic & let God be our witness,
we’re in this, no limits, no gimmicks, no scrimmage,
no cynics, no stupids, no skeptics, no septic, no sewage,
no sadness, no losers, no handcuffs, so tragic, the truth is,
that abusers, abuse but, their tactics, are average,
so when, they attempt it, we just shut down, that madness,
make them, step back, back track, & send them packin’,
& once they realize what’s happened,
they retract & shoot back with,

“I’m so sorry, jeez, please accept my apologies,
I didn’t mean, to try to take all of your Light Energy!”,
ok we hear them plead,  but don’t accept their pleases,
we tell these fickle fleas, “I think it’s time for you all to flee!”,

peace, & their gone, along with the whispers in the wind,
& we’re in the hammock again,
Scarlet & I still off our mark & still high as ever,
gone like the wind our world continues to spin,
distracted by our addictions which is apparent,
from the scars we’re wearin’ in the body we’re currently in,

with red eyes, no bullseyes, no bullsh!t, just straight facts,
think about the best thing you could ever do in your life,
& rest assured we’ve been there & done that,
all true in all ways in other words this’s all correct,

from Venus to Mars with,
a darling named Scarlet,
she leaves an imprint on my soul,
though with no crayon nor marker, she uses her armor,

no mark, no start, no finish,
no gimmicks, just livin’ this life we live that we live to the limit,
with words that are true in all ways in other words all fact,
we progress in order to obtain a peaceful coexistence,...

∆ LaLux ∆

THHT3: The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy vol 3
available worldwide 9/9/19
a part of poem 15 of 99 from THHT3: The Hollywood Hearts Trilogy vol 3
Hermes Varini Jan 2021
A Lone Walker nowe Ah!
Intae Theis Murky Naycht
‘Yont Whin-Rock menacin’,
Ewry Wound bygane an’ the Scar
Freish Bluid o’ mine fuelin’,
Lang, lang, IT! the Blacklyn Howr,
Unfathomable, Unearthly,
Verra Guid Fyre wearin’,
Burnan Hye! Gore o’ mine
Awa, awa, IT owre spilled!
Soil o’ Alabaster gravin’,
An’ abön, Great Orrah! a Presence yirr,
Near-hand ay flashin’,
Rumblin’, guid tremblin’,
Lyke a Rhodium-Demon Hyear
Unco! stick-an-stowe towerin’,
An’ a Mirror-Vision ay broo!
O’ Red Gore fuil an’ pruid!
Great Rowth ragin’!
Human nae, nae IT laanger!
Heyne intae Theis Skye-Mirror,
Image o’ mine! nae, nae IT laanger!
Ma Rubye Brooch Micht, och!
Stylle haiwin',
An' wae Veins o’ Deep Lowe imbued,
Ma ain stylle! Glamis’ Orrah! Dearest!
Athwart ma Solitarye Gait
Ays a Storm-Blast fallin’,
An’ wnto me! wnto me noo, IT!
O’er an’ o’er! Carham’s Scyld-Hel Orrah!
Stylle Theis Dangerus! Verra Dangerus, IT!
Highlan’ Thwndir-Rode o’ mine
Intae Theis Guid Kintra whooshin’,
An’ the nae ****** Cauld Landis Micht,
Swaird-Wounded, stylle Ironclad Ah!
Fore’er unco! wi’in Oun Hye Fyre
Thro’ nae croud strollin’,
Ays yf frae Hye Þunor His-sel
The Lone War-Whisper Weel-Gaun!
Wae Thae Verra Woirds o’ Battle-Angyr
Lewdlie! Theis Specular Bluish Fyre o’ mine!
Thus Thwndir-Taukin’:

NUNC IN HOC SIGNO VINCES
QUIA FOCUS TEMPESTATIS MODO EST TIBI
ET VEXILLA FULMINIS PRODEUNT UNIVERSI
IN FERRO CAERULEO SANGUINEQUE
AD TE PICTORUM NOCTE TETRA
ET IN SPECULO RESULTANTE FORMA
THOR GOTHORUM UBI DESCENDET LAETO
AB ULTIMA GLITNIR MAGNO MALLEO
DEUS FLAVUS QUI ALTO FERRO SECURIQUE
TONITRUO INDIGNAM VIAM MALEDIXIT
FULMINIS IGITUR TETRA UMBRA TUA
ALTA FLAMMA CALIGINEA VEXILLAQUE
SUPREMO IGNE OVERMAN ULTOR.
A composition of mine containing an Enigma, in archaic Scottish, as ending in Classical Latin. The empowered Other-Self of the narrator, the Overman himself, at length appears, and finally speaks as a Mirror-Vision. "VEXILLA FULMINIS PRODEUNT UNIVERSI" means thus "the Banners of the Cosmic Lightning issue forth" and "PICTORUM NOCTE TETRA" "into the Murky Night of the Picts", whereas "ALTA FLAMMA" "through the High Flame" (as thus both instrumental ablatives). "THOR GOTHORUM UBI DESCENDET LAETO AB ULTIMA GLITNIR MAGNO MALLEO DEUS FLAVUS QUI ALTO FERRO SECURIQUE TONITRUO INDIGNAM VIAM MALEDIXIT" reads "where Thor of (from) the Goths, joyful descends, from Last Glitnir (Norse sacred location) with his Mighty Hammer, the Fair God who with the High Iron and the Axe, through the Thunder the Unworthy Path cursed". Touching otherwise "IN SPECULO RESULTANTE FORMA", "FORMA" ("form") is looked upon in sheer Aristotelian terms, as thus opposed to matter. It is indicated that the narrator cannot die, for he possesses veins imbued with incorruptible Heraclitean Fire, hence his Night Stroll, in a manner akin to "The Man of the Crowd", is everlasting. "Thae", "Theis" and "Thus" form an alliteration.
Edna Sweetlove Dec 2014
Ah wuz lookin oot o' mah winder and ah saw this lad
wi' a barry wee lassie gaun' up the hill.
-Wair the **** d'ye think you're gaun tae? ah yells oot.
But the daft ***** didnae answer at aww,
must've been oot o' thir ****** heids wi' E's or summat,
d'ye ken what ah'm tellin' ye,ye daft radge?
-Wair ye're ******* going? ah yells a couple mair times
and finally the gadge yells back to ays,
-Up the ******* hill tae fetch a pail o' ******* watter,
me Ma's hud her ******' taps turned oaf by the ******' Corporation,
which is a ******* pain in the erse ah had ter agree.
I realised ah knew the wee **** Jack but,
eh wuz an auld classmate of ays and eh's hung oot wi' ma brar n me,
when we wuz bairns oan the Scheme,eh?

-That's a bonny wee lassie ye've goat wi' ye, there Jack, ah yelled,
thinking ah'd nae kick her oot o' mah scratcher
withoot gi'ing her a guid ride.
Ah huvtae sey ah recognised hir as a wee ****
called Jill from the Scheme, a right tidy wee ride
in mah opinion wi' a guid little ***** on hir, as ah recall.
-Mind ye're own ******' business, the **** yells back at ays,
takin' the pail in yin hand and the ****'s wee hand in the other yin.

Ah can tell ye ah totally pished meself wi' laughter
when the pair o' they wide ***** fell doon,
Jack breakin' his ******' croon n the groond,
ah'm sure he nivver meant it tae happen,
'n eh mustae squashed his ******* bawws
as eh fell doon n aww from the wey he screamed oot,
but the wee lassie cam tumbling doon the ****** hill n aww,
heid n **** oor her ******' erse
'n ah could see she wasnae wearin' any ****** *******
'n her ***** was on display under her skirt.
Ah wouldnae expect anything else from a wee ****,eh?

-Dinnae worry, ah'll com and help ye, ah called oot,
but when ah goat thir, both o them wis deid,
ah thoat o' gittin mah hole wi' the deid lassie n aww,
but you shouldnae dae that, it's no respectful tae wimmin,
'n eywis, the polis might trace me through the DNA,
those ***** are clivvir 'n aw, ye ken.
So ah contented mesel' wi' rummidging through the poakits
o' the lad's jaykit tae see if eh hud ehs payment from the Joab Centre,
but the daft **** mustae spent it aww on a boatil or two o Grants,
ah ken ah'd hae done the same mahsel'.
And there wasnae a penny in the lassie's purse,
so ah thoat ah'd jus' **** oaf doon the ******
'n ask some **** tae call the hoaspital and the ****** polis.
Eh?
This tribute to Irvine Welsh, Scotland's most successful living novelist, is my masterpiece.
jeffrey robin Apr 2013
You gotta at least sit up to touch the stars !

MAYBE EVEN STAND UP!
.
Heck
Ya might even have to JUMP!
--
Well
Ya can't climb no mountain
Wearin just underwear
..
There's an analogy here fits many things
----
Naked beauty

For.......

(Wait wait!!!
-----that's a part a the last poem)
--
In this one they wearin underwear
---
0
..

Even when it's rainin the stars be there !

Why am I telling YOU?
..
Cause I think that
You gonna really try
..
Try touch the stars !
You are MAN!
(Stars ain't so high)
Kelly Lutz Oct 2010
I'm not too up to date
On the social scene these days
Kids walkin' around wearin'
Pants that don't fit right
Either too tight or down to their *****
And they smoke a joint any chance they get
Talkin' bout how alcohol should be for kids 16 and up
Talkin' bout how thier friends are losin' their virginity
At the age I started puberty
Sayin' drugs aren't that bad
That the police are the bad people, tryin' to ruin their fun
Sayin' their friends make good parents
At the age I started puberty
And that they quit their job at that fast food place
'Cause the boss couldn't stand their tattoos anymore
But really, none of this has anythin' to do with television
Or bad parenting
Or bad influences
Or lack of an education
Really
This is how it's supposed to be
This is normal, everything is okay here
It's a generational thing
Really
trf Nov 2017
i smoke cigarettes, i'm cool.
my new orleans dialect, hasn't escaped me yet.
get high from the vet, i'm cool.
With my head down I’m staring up, from this deep K hole.

my coke is the best, i'm cool.
wearin' a crown to bed, those thorny cigarettes.

don't listen to anyone who's true,
live like you wanna be, that seems funny too.

die in your dreams, way past curfew,
the more it seems, those years'll laugh at you.

     the sky will bury you
     and burn you to the ground.
     hot air balloons,
     will fall upside down.

     life's label has no lesson,
     you grew and grew and grew.
     armor up this cap and gown,
     nightmares will pursue.

with all above regrets, i'm cool, i'm cool, i'm cool.
"amid the chaos of that day, when all i could hear was the thunder of gunshots and all i could smell was the violence in the air. I look back and i'm amazed, that my thoughts were so clear and true. that three words went through my mind endlessly, repeating themselves, like a broken record. you're so cool, you're so cool, you're so cool."
Kagami Nov 2013
I like big bills and I can not lie.
No other hunter can deny,
When a duck waddles in with an itty bitty bill
And feathers in your face
You're on QUACK!
I gotta shoot him quick
But I noticed that duck was stuffed,
Even the tags it's wearin.
I'm hooked an I can't stop starin.
Oh, ducky, I gotta go shoot ya,
And take your picture.
The rangers try to warn me
But that bill you got makes
Me so hungry!
Filmore Townsend Jan 2013
i sat at her typewriter
wearin’ plain white v-neck,
plaid WalMart shorts marr’d.
i sat at her typewriter
as we discuss’d life problems.
i sat at her typewriter
dividing interest between her and
the powerful feeling received
through uniform ballyhoo.
i sat at her typewriter
feinging, waiting for her
to say she’s too drunk.
i sat at her typewriter
as she went on with her
first-world problems.
i sat at her typewriter
as they exchanged
insults yell’d and
shard’d glass of broken jars.
i sat at her typewriter
as she dispensed her drug.
i sat at her typewriter
when her and the secondary-Virgo
did move to grind.
i sat at her typewriter
as i forged fragment’d
statements to poetry.
i sat at her typewriter
when she had
that look in her eyes.
i sat at her typewriter
as my life end’d.
i sat at her typewriter
after the snow sweat.
i sat at her typewriter
when she snap’d the spine of
her first horse Sassafras.
i sat at her typewriter
when i deluded myself
about loving her.
i sat at her typewriter
never any longer.
Ken Pepiton Feb 2023
---- 2023 youtube I wonder if, and lo': The Planets
A grand background orchestra, mental direct
there, you hav it, too, listen, a few times,
just in the mood, to listen
maybe as you get, that it starts at Mars,
begin as we
think we
Read this at your pace the writer advised,
and I did, a couple of times,
like long stuck records…
To Holst, an offered libation,
to all the minds whose words
are music as big as any mind
limited by my unknowing,
only
using, the truth, music, leading after words,
through ever away,
silent for a now,
or so,
from the Sun, past the fragment,
the single lump at the core,
of the process,
Ash as
Icarus, and Hermes, speedy messenger,
such as see thee, hold the knowledge holy,

watch, see, the wandering planets Holst,
might have seen today,
looking through my eyes,
wordless, right on, so far, as we

agree, there
is power in the mind that writes and reads
music,
power alloted some in blind feel,
power exuding from an ever in times past,

lasting ever tones thinning, spreading, patterning
perfected harmonies unexpected
yet
taken as granted, felt, in passion y sympassion,
same sound,

my once known wind, my bass oboe player,
acquaintance, who called me by name,
accusing me, subtly of not knowing,
there is a forest of low stature,
and there are missions there,
where if you pray,
they feed you twinkies… I recall, between
Venus and busy laughing Earth,

I remember Mars is next,
I am ready, I went into the dark kitchen,
back of the Mission on Fourth Street,
across from an Electra Records Billboard…

ifery approaches, Holst has not gotten me to Mars,
I am pulling in an experience, from a mission,
on Fourth Street, in a mindtimespace shared,

as of yet, by a few, who will know the place,
the ******* Mission, the one
with the Joker who used rats,
to get a startle response,

and at exactly the wrong place, for men with
certain
kinds of sure thing reactions, to diabolic attacks.

2023, approaching Mars with Lou Holtz, I thum thum
thummin wearin' my Razorback hat,
Inter Planatary Hwy 71, to Joplin,
ur in my realm.

Bass every thing slow creep slow, seep as sludge,
to the edge, and look beyond,
this is it, this is the Earth,
we shall survive!

We slay the unbelievers and fake it til we make it,
right, kids?

---------- longhair music, epicyc-lical as neckties,
to male tipped stacking schema for *****,
or stones,
or crystaline tones accompanying the heating up
of life's core cargo cult's last load,

Holst, bass trombones,
here, is the dance of little devils with a mind to make
a difference
in the depths of ever after,
up to now,
I had forgotten the piccolo parts, and the French horns,
and the joy of the big parade,
marching off
to war explore the unknown
for exploitations as per the underling theme,
go forth
subdue the Earth, and conquer all who refuse, to say
this is the way,
this is the good old way,

war
glory and honor, earn the urim'nthummin'n'human
inhumainity, we, the chosen warrior beings,
messengers of differing mocking gods of ****** mud
beyond the final river,
every slogger knows, forever, there remains
one more
river to cross, a final thread to tie to you, listener,

Holtz, still in the background, a journey, what price
each player plays in this, orchestration shared,
as I read, I wrote, as I hoped, I did,

and I remain, giddily glad… my side won the war
I lost.

Peace came, unbidden, apparently,
a deep breath, and harp strings,

this is the future from any ever before, now
to know
this is common, not so rare, as even the idea,
not so long ago,
first radio mono performance,
what child lay in the crib and heard this,
through the grand horn of Gram's Gramma phone.
Y''ello,
toldja, ai ain't no Injunsaint. Pretend, then,
right, ai and mai-y grandma

can piece together some occassional lessons, given us,
she in her time telling me in mine,sssince ever about
I was forty-nine, or so, she told me she was an orphan,
and had no family knowledge, past begins
at the last common thread,
to a native american epic,

when the old deluder, Satan, act, attached
to law and order and rectangular resettlement
of wilderness liberated from savages and beasts…
pawn, both steps, dare… help the Macedonians
and take Uncle Tom wit'cha, whicha oughtn't had
never the less, young wombed men, did tend
to become aspirational, after becoming
inspired read-up young wombed men, hot
to seek adventure, teachin' young'n's, out west.

indistanct depth Holst at the kettle drumms softerafter
- the silent version has a different light show
--- circa 1880's, not historically long ago, most places.
This character,
qwerty guy's friend, has kin as close as my Uncle Cebe'n'me,
who died at Wounded Knee, where my liege republic,
honored some two dozen rapid fire cannon supported
avengers of The Seventh Cav!
And in their hearts,
if not their lips,
was the march in time to Garry Owen. Their families
must be proud.

And that's a shame. We were taught to grant worth
to a medal signifying honor brought to the liege, in victory.

Peace passes that, music makes bubbles, we revisit,
replay the gramma phone version,
some scratchy
real realizing strings singing chimes and harps
of ages past
unveiling, hiding nothing knowing freedom is a sense,
you know
you do not own it,
you do not make it up, it is free. The idea

I had, approached as
hunter
in pursuit, steady as she blows,

leave us hap as may be at a triumph of joyous
curious
dancing twinkle noise amusing being a muse used,
enter tained, and voiced by bass
then tinkles
thin thin thin then Zildjian  K-bang!

____
Yes. Loaded. RIP
And you wonder why they call u *****? ?
Cuz ****** n hoes quick to switch
Like this one muthafucka
Tried to set me up with the feds
Now he dead clothes soaked in red
God bless the dead
I aint lyin'
Keep my thai **** fryin'
My spirits cryin'
Out loud tryna tell me to avoid
The pain but i cant in then rain?
Uh unless i wanna get wet up
So all my real homies throw ya set up
Guns up
In gats we trust bust
At the pulpits from hell
We dont care we ride or die
And if we fail
Ill little semens will grow
and vanish the demons thats schemin'
Be on the look out
Watch ya mouth
Cuz fools quick to rush in
Pistol smokin' i seen one of my homies eyes open
Stiff as a log mind began to jog
Tryna escape the smog
But they really wanna see dead or in the penitentiary
But i see ten years ahead of the game
No shame quick to light the flame
Burn muthafuckas if they try
Still running in the fields
Pressure buildin' up
Cuz my society corrupt
Ya might be here today
And gone tomorrow
And the family only feels the sorrow
Borrow
A tinted window in the stretch limo
Sayin' eulogy
For all the thugs before me
But im still battlin' the sable
Makin' gilt that my peeps fall for
And end up in the killing fields uh
**** life til i die!!!!



Foools wearin' bulletproof vest
To protect they chest
When muthafuckas been takin' head shots
With the infered dots
And Yea... i call 'em the cops
Somebody gotta drop
**** the law we raw and rugged
With our ****
Hardest to spit soon to hit
Every ghetto city in the country
They'll mourn me
And remember the the game
I gave to ya
cuz if you got a mind
They'll try to abuse ya
Told ya the time is now
Muthafuckas quick to take a bow
Givin' honor to temporary fame
Learn the game
Bring ya own rules fools
Still search for 40 acres and a mule
But they aint gone never give it to you
But dont give up
Just bomb rush these muthafuckas
Until they act up
Bawlin' for state of an emergency
Call up the national guard
Cant **** a million nigguhs with
weapons
Then when they step in
Let them ******* have it
With the automatic
We causin static
To every news radio station
Shook up the whole nation
Got everybody screamin **** life
Revengin' for Malcolm X
This is for all the real leaders
That got killed
And ended up yoooo
In the killing fields


Im deeep in yo brains
Like illusion from *******
Mixed with hennessey
Gotta nigguh think
He strong mayne? ??
Aint no rest for the wickd
Since societys sadistic
I gotta keep my nine
On the side of my hip
No bloods or crips
Just real killers ready to bust at yo ****
Guard it well
Cuz if we fail
My troops goin to jail
The next day they out on bail
Though im dead
Ill be comin' back
Penetratin' enemies
With the bullets of my mac
No slackin' bodies Stackin
**** life is way of the game
No shame
To bring the pain
Uh we exterminatin' nation
Leavin' no remainsssss
now ya stuck in the fields!! $$
Artaxerxes Nov 2014
See him wasted on the sidewalk, in his jacket and his jeans
Wearin' yesterday's misfortunes like a smile
Once he had a future, full of money love and dreams
Which he spent like they was goin' outta style

And he keeps right on a'changin', for the better or the worse
Searchin' for a shrine he's never found
Never knowin' if believin', is a blessin' or a curse
Or if the goin' up was worth, the comin' down

He's a poet, an' he's a picker, he's a prophet, an' he's a pusher
He's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's ******
He's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home

He has tasted good and evil, in your bedrooms and your bars
And he's traded in tomorrow for today
Runnin' from his devils Lord, and reachin' for the stars
And losin' all he loved, along the way

But if this world keeps right on turnin', for the better or the worse
And all he ever gets is older and around
From the rockin' of the cradle, to the rollin' of the hearse
The goin' up was worth, the comin' down

He's a poet, an' he's a picker, he's a prophet, an' he's a pusher
He's a pilgrim and a preacher, and a problem when he's ******
He's a walkin' contradiction, partly truth and partly fiction
Takin' ev'ry wrong direction on his lonely way back home

There's a lot of wrong directions, on that lonely way back home
Christopher Lowe Mar 2014
There he was, Archibald Walker, like every mornin standin on the riverbank starin across the water as the sun began to rise.  He would just stand there with his lunch pal in one hand and that funny bowlers hat in the other.  That boy always had a big ol’ grin stretchin across his face from ear to ear.   Archibald Walker the third was actually his name.  A college boy from down south, he came from ol’ money.  You’da never knew though.  He came up here to escape he said.  I had always wondered why anyone in their right mind would give up money and education to come be a logger, but there was Archibald just starin across that river as happy as a peach.  I used to ask him what he learned down there in school and he would always reply the same way, “Good Jokes”.  I never could tell if he was being serious or if he just didn’t care too much to talk about it.  Archibald was real good at his job though for being a college boy.  Came in before everyone else and worked ten times as hard. Never did see him ***** up either.
He liked to keep to himself.  I was the only one he ever really talked to and even then he never talked about much.  Took me a year and a half just to figure out he was educated and from money.  I looked at that boy funny for a week after he told me that.  I was dumbfounded as to why someone would give that up for this gruelin job.  Funny thing is, he seemed to like it.  He had to clear up logjams and keep the wood flowin smoothly down the river.  Boy was he fast.  He would skip across them floatin logs like he was walkin on dry land.  There he’d go just a bouncin up and down across them logs, big smile across that baby face, with that funny lookin bowlers hat on.  He always had on that goofy thing.  Looked like someone had glued a bowl onto a plank’a wood.  I asked him why he liked wearin it so much one day and he just laughed and said, “Now what makes you think I like wearing it”.  Still don’t know what that boy meant, but I never took to tryin to understand him.
Everybody called him Walker cause he walked across them logs all day and it was his last name I suppose, but mostly cause he loved walkin them logs.  It was a dangerous job, but he never hesitated to go runnin out there with his push pole and clear the jam.  I told him to be real careful what logs he pushed outta the way cause if he got the wrong one, well he would end up crushed out there between two of those god-awful things.  He told me we all end up stuck between two pieces of wood in the end anyhow, so he didn’t care.  Boy shoulda listened.  Wasn’t a week later he went walkin out on them logs, smile and all, and wouldn’t you know it he sliped, got crushed between two big ole trees then sank all the way to the bottom of that river.
We searched the river for three days and never did find Archibald’s body.  It was sad to see that boy cut down so young.  We hired a new boy about a week later and he wasn’t half the walker Archibald was.  He wasn’t even a walker.  Nicknamed that boy crawler cause he was so scared of them logs he would lay down on his belly and crawl out there to fix a jam.  Three separate occasions we picked him up a mile down the river clingin to a log for dear life.  Boy was something else.  Needless to say we let him go down the river the fourth time and politely told him to not come back.  Symbolic in away.  Archibald got taken by the river and that’s how we let crawler know he was fired.  Just let it carry him away until he finally reached the bank a mile or so down river.
I finally took Archibald’s post after we couldn’t find anyone to replace him.  I won’t lie I was scared at first, but then I remembered what Archibald had told me about all of us endin up stuck between two pieces of wood in the end.  I figured he was right so I would just go boundin across them logs day in and out just like he woulda.  I still didn’t know why that boy was always happy.  Even though I did the job, I still hated it. For a while anyway.
One day I came in about the same time Archibald used to and I stood there on the edge of the river and watched the sun come up.  I knew why he was so happy all the time.  Boy it was the most beautiful thing seein that sun comin up.  It was like for a second the world was just explodin with life. I’m not sure what it’s like to have money and be educated, but I’m sure it’s nothing close to watchin that sun come up like that over the river.  Wouldn’t ya know it though when the sun was done risin and I was about to finally get to work there was that goofy hat of Archibald’s washed up on the bank.  It was a little soggy but not in bad shape.  It was like that boy knew I was gonna be there and had just left it for me.  That hat didn’t fit to well and it looked awfully funny, but I wore it everyday I went walkin them logs.  Now I start everyday like Archibald did, standin on that riverbank with my lunch pal in one had and that bowler hat in the other watchin the sun come up.  Still don’t know why that boy wore the thing, but I’m glad he did.
I know it's not a poem, but i still decided to share it.
dennis drain Aug 2016
Man... I'm so sick of this ****, taking like a politician, tryin ta act like a different person.
Even when im wrightin an gettin twisted.
Stayin up 3 days without sleepin even a second.
I feel like I abandoned my mission, of relatin to the worlds neglected children.
Started spitin **** that  made me sound like a *****.
but the truth is im still white, high, wearin black hoodies and  refusin to accept what I don't like.
Didint notice I was writtin any different I was just hella trippin on the white ****,
sittin up all night on hello poetry half dead, can't remember half of what I said. Just remember i wasn't making sense,
finly went to bed and im back again...

Finley Wearin all black again, bandana ironed in my back left again, but even on my brightest days i was born to sin.
So im still north side 14 only white boy allowed in. Pipe loaded with whatever for forever  someone better burry me with a peice in my pocket to chief on when they lower down my casket and lock it. Then pour little bit of 40 on top for the homie who never stopped kilin it.
softcomponent Jan 2015
hydrochloric salt

flavored kimchi noodles

make me favorite I'll

miss u in past-tense

tense tense kiss tense

lip tense wrist tense

lovely lava leave me

tense tense tense man

wat u doin' wat u wearin'

wat u wantin' wantin' crave

crave lead lost iris-tilted

desire
Jordan Farelli May 2012
Pickin' up my pants
From her bedroom floor
Lookin' at my latest victim
From the night before

When I was drinkin' everything
Like it was going out of style

I was drowning my sorrows
When I saw her fire up a Marlboro
She was
Swingin' her hips left to right

I've had this feeling before
Although,
It's been awhile
As she cranked that volume dial

I saw ***** cut off shorts
Raining fabric to the floor
Wearin' a low cut top
Givin' everyone a show

She had ***** blonde hair
But, I bet there's none down there
I'm thinkin'
I might give it a go

Because, she's the town ****
And, I'm in a rut
I'm gonna
Give it to 'er tonight

I throw her on the bed
So she knows her place
I rip off her clothes
Adding a little slap on her face

Because, she's the town floosie
It's gonna be a doosie tonight

As I finish her off
She lets out a cough
And I just
Watch her there

As she lies in the wake
Of a psychopaths fate
She knows
She ain't goin' nowhere

Because she was the town hussie
And my mood was a little fussy
I just
Had to release

Myself unto another
And see the blood sputter
As I
Watched in peace
Derick Van Dusen Nov 2010
Been so ******* and frustrated lately,
that I think everybody ****** hate me.
Somebody say some **** dat shoulda never been said.
so I sit around and mope cause I took it the wrong way.

Its all ****** up, they all goin they own direction and im lost
so all i do is sit an scratch my head  an wonder whats the ******  cost.
I dont want to have to be the one to pay the price for him ****** up his life. So insteada goin toe to toe and throwin blow for blow, im gonna smoke anotha  bowl.
I didnt ask for the silence or the tears and I aint gonna try to wipe away his fears. I got enough of my own without addin more. I dont need all this stress and I feel funny in this dress. No, Im not really wearin a dress but I bet I gotta laugh like a Jedi. I played their little mind trick on myself and seems to be workin cause now Im on a role.

  So now I guess I gotta impress, aint that what you supposed to do when all the fingers are pointed at you, oh, no, wait thats the wrong word, ****, ****, ****, **** it you **** ****, brain work right, the right word is: interrogate. Nope **** it that aint the right word either, so what am I supposed to now, cause I done lost that ****** word somehow. I thought I was on a role mane **** now I need to hit the next train, take anotha good long **** from the **** mane. Maybe that **** im smokin will inspire me to one day be the kinda man I know I wanna be for my little girls sake. Yep, thats right, I said it, I got a little girl now. Never thought that would ever happen, but shes three now. And daddies only gonna be away for a minute cause I gotta get a better education for you baby, so I can give you a better life than I had,  and you dont ever have to think Im a looser Dad. I know baby its pretty bad when I gotta come all the way here to hear that I aint got everything the **** school need like the money the want outta me that I aint got cause I got no job, but I **** sho aint gonna sit around and sob. Ima go to college and make myself a career, so I can better rear or raise you **** I dont like that word either, rear, sounds like im talkin bout my ****, but I aint so dont go gettin all twisted, oops did I just say somethin derogatory there, well I guess not. **** now I gotta knot in my stomach cause all this ***** makin me sick.

  I caint keep up with all the **** goin on here mane cause its like cane slew able and Im un able to understand why I feel like Im bein pushed aside but I aint tryin to hide from no one cause I love all an I dont wanna see em hurt each other anymore. So I pick the pieces off the floor and I do my best to put em back together agin but then I sit an wonder why do I try I know they just gonna tell each other one thing and tell me a lie. Whats makin it worse, is this thing like a curse, that hangs on me heavy like water against the leavy. I done went and got myself stuck, in a major royal mind ****. You see that triangle over there, yep that me in the middle of it and it all just comes crashin down around me. Now I just want it all to stop pounding and for the voices in my head to go the **** to bed and let me sleep to cause the first thing Id do is. TELL EM HOW STUPID THIS **** IS, YOUR WRONG, GROW UP.

  But anyway I digress, or is it egress, **** it dont matter, I aint the Mad Hatter and I found the right word but Ima be a **** and let it go unheard till I see fit, Yeah a little taste of it, control, there you go, its right there in front of my face. Just as plain to see as My Space. Hes a bit of a control freak. Oops I forgot, Im not, I like to treat people, like I like them to treat me. See how that works, its a little thing called respect, you should learn it sometime. Hell aint they a song by that name I do believe Id have to leave the room now If I didnt tell you Aretha Franklin sang R.E.S.P.E.C.T. she know what it mean and you can learn it too I hope somehow. But anyway I gotta go now, and I guess Im finished with my rap now, so im out, gotta preform.
While I obviously take a great deal of inspiration from Eminem the above work is entirely my original work and is not to be copied in whole or part with out my expressed written consent.
Lorenzo Creaghe Jan 2015
debased heads crooked in the grey city winter
tiltinlikethestreetsisrollinyoudownintohell
sidewalk shufflinlimpinstarindodginhidin
holdin the eyescloudedpaincloudedlifecloudednothing

swayin on a thruway divider in rags and solitude
bentbackbrokenbackbentbackbroken
wearin nevernewshoes and holding a pushcartcane
filled with onemanstrashisthiswomanslife

my bornagainsinglemama sees thepooroldwoman
we pass in a gotbetterthingstodothanpityyou engine
she doin the teetertottersendmetumblinintotrafficpleasehappydance
in our eyes she no more than a label, no more than her vice

butthewheelskeepturnin
wegotmoreworktodolifetolive
andjustl­ikethatshegone
ifsheeverwasthere
Alan McClure Dec 2016
Whoa.

See that yin?
Jist sittin there?
Ye ken how she’s sittin like that, don’t ye?
Well, whit’s she sittin oan?
Aye, her erse.
She’s only sittin like that
So ye ken she’s got an erse.
Gaggin fir it.

An whoa, check that yin!
Wearin claes!
Filthy cow!
Whit dae ye mean, “Whit dae ah mean”?
Claes!
Ye canny wear claes
If ye huvny got a boady, can ye?
That’s right –
Just screamin it, so she is –
“Check oot ma boady!”

Aye, ah wull an aw!
Don’t mind if ah dae!

Aw, mate – that yin!
That yin ower there!
Bendin her airm!
See her?
Bendin her airm like a mucky ****!
That’s so ye ken
She’s got elbows!
Phwoar, I ken your type hen –
you wi yir elbows an a’thin!
Desperate fur it, aren’t ye?

An man!  This yin,
walkin towards us!
Breathin in an oot!
Whit a slapper!
Breathin in an oot!
Aye, ye need a pair o lungs tae dae that,
I bet, eh, hen?
A pair o fine, functioning lungs!
Aye, you use them, doll –
dinny you be shy!
Ah’m no!

Aw pal, haud me back!
This yin!
This yin eatin a meat pie!
Shameless wee ****!
Aw yeah, baby,
I ken whit that means!
Mean’s ye’ve got yirsel
a **** wee digestive tract in there, no?
Ye dinny hae tae spell it oot tae me, love!
Probably got a pair o kidneys
tucked away in there too,
ye ***** wee *****!

Aw the same, ur they no?
Aw ae thum.
Gantin oan it.
OnlyEggy Dec 2010
When they say 'Winter Wonderland'
which winter and from what land?

Is it the one from the North?
where the temperatures are low
the snow is heavy and the icicles grow
The frost covered windows works to ensure
you'll stay inside with hot cocoa and a s'more
Where toys are unwrapped and then put away
to be used on a future warm spring day

Is it the wonder of the East?
Where the snow is light and wet
and the thermostat reads 'cold', and yet
bonfires in the fields and roasted marshmallows
and picking the last petal on a rose mallow
to be place on the wreath hung on the wall
made of remnants of memories of the last fall

Or could it be the wintery West?
Where the locals are wearin' sweaters
as they play in the chilled weather
where the stiff, cool breeze creates a shiver
across houses decorated in gold and silver
as people come to visit family and friends
and dream of staying till'  summer's end

Or maybe it's the wonderful South?
Warm and sunny all year round
where Santa stays when not suited and gowned
where the fires stay lit, but only for effect
outside, off of giant couches, families defect
and shaken snow-globes provide the only snow-filled day
So where, pray tell, does your winter wonderland lay?
(AIP) Christmas 2010- From Tough Guys Wear Pink
AD Sifford Dec 2015
Hello beauties, my name is Austin D. Sifford.
If I may, please spare a moment;
I've prepared some needed words.
I'll get straight down to business,
and make short this introduction.
So if your ears are not too full
let them taste this sweet concoction:

So, I take care of my hair
Keep it cool, keep from frizzin'
I hit the gym five days of seven
Just the basics, not body-buildin'
I like my clothes, rock the shades,
but I've got a major question:
Who cares* what I look like,
Why's it matter what I'm wearin',
What good is outer style
If I'm a beast behind the skin?

Too many people, is the answer, I guess
I mean it's cool, right, everyone sins
But not to me, you see, I see it different
I strive my life to conquer sin
Why?
'Cause, listen: one Man didn't
He lived every second to please our Father
So don't you try to tell me we're Self-Pleasure's sons & daughters

Why you checkin' on externals
When the heart inside's infernal?
Now, God knows I love my beanie
But if I had myself a genie
I wouldn't be wishing for a cap
Or some Levis or the Lugz
I'd be wishing for a hand to hold,
Just some love, a friendly hug
For one to show me that they care
For a heart that's not afraid to dare
To be a better man within

I'd rather shine behind the skin

We don't need cash, and I don't want bling
No-- what we need, people, is a reason to sing
We need a Savior, man,
We need a bigger plan
I hope you'll understand this,
Guys, we've gotta take his hand

The world will never be happy
With shirts at three-hundred fifty
That ring may give you style
But what gives hope to your child?
Does your house? Does your car?
Do his toys? Or does his father?

Look I'm not trying to bother,
I ain't just here to preach
But you're flashing those ******, tanning at the beach
Ladies, where is your beauty?
On your skin? They just leech,
you know? Those guys all over,
they don't care about you,
just wanna know what you will do

It's time you wake up, and shake up
All this fake-up with your make-up
The jewel is in your heart,
and, girl, it's been there from the start

Look what Hollywood's paying, guys,
Now I'm not playing, right?

Now people are killing,
they're serial
While your just obsessing
with material

Hey media, whatchyoo saying'?
Sell your lies to the world
But I'M NOT PAYING

People, ask what matters here,
While you look in the mirror
Who's the preacher?
Go in deeper
You buy what they sell
You wear what they tell

But is it really worth it all
Is there Botox in Hell?

We've gotta ask ourselves
Really ask yourself
Where will I be taking
All these trends and this wealth?

What I'm saying: this is bogus
All this fashion hocus pocus
What you need is to refocus
And don't let society choke us

Now you've got an empty feeling
And your culture keeps on stealing
Your sinking deeper and deeper
While your cost just gets steeper

But wealth's not found inside your wallet
And it's about time someone called it
Happiness is only found when the masks all hit the ground
Don't live up to what they say,
You won't reach that anyway
The heart is what needs fixing
Not your hair, drop the bags
Tell the truth, show some love--
now that, my friends, that's swag

Let's get rich, people, let's get beautiful
Let's get real, and let's get valuable

Now listen to this, you People Mag
Seventeen, yo, this is rad:
Happiness is found one place
One thing will put a smile on that face,
All sorrow gone, without a trace
It's the love and the Truth
That will set you free
True class created you
Real value lives in me
| Written on, or sooner than, February 6, 2012 |

**Story**
I've never been popular. I'm also very short, so have often been made fun of as the small one. The weak one. And I've certainly never been popular with girls.
In high school, I began weightlifting, took a fitness & strength class, and did parkour. I started getting pretty muscular, and could impress guys in the weightroom who were way bigger than me, because of how much I could lift in comparison to my size and body-weight. I like to show off with backflips, handsprings, etc. A few girls were finally attracted to me. A female friend of mine said she liked how "buff" I was and that she was impressed. It felt good to finally have something, to finally not be the loser, I guess. To finally, maybe, be valuable in the eyes of some of my peers.
I found myself looking at my growing physique too much, and worrying about my hair too much...putting too much effort into making myself externally attractive.
I was a devout Christian at this time, and my constant attempt to grow spiritually and have a "relationship" with God really started to remind me that the outside isn't what matters, and isn't where my focus of improvement or of beauty should be. What I put the spotlight on for others to should, instead, be the things with real, lasting value.
While that stuff was in my mind during this time, the moment that actually sparked the poem was while talking with a friend (over text) whom I cared about like a sister. She was very insecure, and was reading Seventeen Magazine during our conversation, soaking up more destructive lies. My protective nature angered me for her sake and got me thinking about how the popular media has damaged us with its influence in all these ways, so I sat down and wrote this poem on the spot, after explaining to her why I wish she wouldn't read those. I then sent it to her. Her name's Markay.

**Trivia**
The intro was not written with the rest of the poem. I added it over a year later, on March 10, 2013.
I originally had this titled "True Value". My last line says "real value". Why did I then call the poem "true value"? Beats me.

© 2017 A.D. Sifford.
I'm okay with you sharing my poems, but I ask that you show courtesy. Please be honest about the authorship by attributing it to my name. Thank you,
- Sifford
Stu Harley Oct 2012
girl there you
go again
tryin' to get
in my kool-aid
girl you so crazy
you think you are
driving Miss Daisy
flipping me off
with your
phat fingers and
now you wearing them
Burger King rings
why you wearin'
so much fake jewlery and
pancake makeup
who you tryin' to impress
Ronald McDonald
hey listen girlfriend
you are really
Girl U pushing my buttons and
getting on my last bit of nerves
so you know what
Miss wanna-be Thing
you want the whole **** five-O and
the 411 Miami Vice Crockett & Tubbs
well it goes somethin' like this
H-to-the-hell-no
JAM May 2013
Ladies and Gentleman, I give you Brandon the boy in the bubble and Doctor Wise...

The boy in the bubble
Never wanted any trouble

People said "your too fragile you'll get cancer"
So he would just make believe, pretend he was a cool agile panther
People said "your body will crumble like wood flooring rots"
So he would pretend, staying humble that he could fly over the jungle with soaring hawks

Aisles of adventures were all he sought
" I'll be in this bubble til I'm wearin' dentures", so he thought...

His doctor would come every other day
Just to make sure everything was okay
He went by Dr. "W" first initial J

One random paralyzed tuesday
Brandon sat in his sterilized room lettin' blues play
The doctor came to repeat the check up
Brandon was the same from shoulders to feet and neat from the neck up
The doctor asked "Son why are you in this bubble?"
Brandon said "The people told me the air could **** me and the sun would be worst trouble"
The doctor told Brandon "the world is a mysterious place in our galaxy, but you'll never know for yourself until you go face the challenge B"

The doctor lifted the window wide open and let in the breeze
As the fresh air hit his face, Brandon didn't so much as sneeze

Brandon - "Wow doc you must save thousands of lives"

Dr. W - "Not really, I just tell people this; Everybody lives, everybody smiles, everybody cries, everybody dies and

EEEEVVVVERYBODY LIES...

-J.A.M
You see the catz??
They be wack
I spit like that chick Freda Gatz
I got Empire that start fire
Reachin' for theMessiah
Gett the blessin'
From Pac n Big
Even Scarface gave me a bid
Hardest in the pit
Noshit
My lyrics spit harder than a fat brick
Flip it
We livin good yall
And ya never see me talk to the laws
My fashion clean in a gangsta lean
N if you want drama ill call Mr Clean
Thats my gat fool  
Soul food for ya body fool
Ya know rules
Dont step out of line
Unless u ready to fined uh


They see through
I feel my hood brothers
Saying they need you
Me im refering too
I keep it street yall
**** all these gay *** **** mayne
Fools wearin' skirts
Then claim they puttin' in work
Soft as **** followin' gimmicks
When i shed wisdom
Everybody gettin lit
Sunshine for yo mind
Still puttin a ******* to one time
I stay in my grind
I got no time
For haters they only make me greater
How can ya play me they cant slay me
Im on top so cAN they stop me
They were bullet proof vest
I aim high for ya head notyo chest
Gotta alot bones roll with thugs
Jackin' rich ******* hit multiple swtiches
Swang i
On vogues sittin' on fours tippin'
With the wood grain drippin'
Hate them cuz they hate me
Got my whole clique
Backin' me
In the industry they need real emcee
Likeme ya see

— The End —