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 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
JM
Tired
 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
JM
Blue shadows, full moon.
Thick with need, the night consumes.
Nocturnal bloodlust
 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
echo
yes -
i've had a sunshower
of inspiration
after the warm
and dry
the sweet sound
of my release
is singing beautifully
20.08.2013
 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
Àŧùl
Where did the first border appear?
I wonder and I wonder more.
The answer doesn't come out freely.

Probably on a piece of paper.
Or a cave wall perhaps..
Or on an insecure conscience...

They followed the dogs, lions and tigers.
They didn't take clues from the Albatross..
They were unable to make it a one world...

Fought for meagre pieces of land in a bid to expand...
They forgot that the wind blows beyond borders..
Animals and birds don't consider any borders.

Let's put our poetical hands together now.
Around each other's shoulders & waists..
Let's rhyme away the borders & nations...
My HP Poem #404
©Atul Kaushal
 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
Ghazal
Well, today's the kind of day
When I can just sit at my doorstep,
My chappals splashing into the
Little puddle of rainwater that's collected.
Today, I can breathe in fresh, pure greenery,
Feast into this inviting scenery,
And break into a little poetry!
About?
Maybe about how loud the clouds were!
In expressing their happiness,
Their love for us thirsty souls?
Maybe about how the cool breeze
Whizzed past our parched skins,
Blowing to us, its cool Hello?
Or about how squealing kids
Shirts thrown away, drenched skins,
Raced along their paper canoes?

Oh I can write on anything I want,
Oh I'll just hum along Mother Nature's song,
Today is the day for poetry,
Today's rhythm can never go wrong.
Weeeeee I love RAINS! =)
 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
Àŧùl
Do you know what was my reply when the class teacher told me that my attendance was lower than the minimum requisite & I won't be allowed to sit in the exams???

I replied that it's not an issue, my genes make me very sturdy and I could write the exams standing!
Not a poem but a joke I read somewhere.
 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
AJ
There's more than one way to turn two bodies
Into one.
Instead,
**** my soul till it's raw.
Fill me to the brim with your broken ego.
I'll dance my catastrophic tongue along your weak spot,
Your achilles heel.
Which, of course,
Is me breaking your ego.
I'll let you penetrate me with a silent stare,
Oh god,
Yes there.
Dive into my insecurities,
Call my bluff,
Put me on a pedestal,
Rigged to collapse into ruins.
I like when you push me.
Don't break me,
Ecstasy comes when I break myself,
Smash myself into over analyzed bits and sociopathic pieces.
Faster.
Harder.
Make it harder for me to figure you out,
Give me a challenge.
**** yes,
I love a challenge.
Reading an open book is easy,
Picking up a locked journel off an abandoned bookshelf,
Now that pushes me over the edge.
Let's change into a more comfortable position,
Where you ramble an incoherent childhood stories,
And I retort loudly in my native language,
And you storm off because no one is right,
And no one is wrong.
And you get off on the point that there is no point.
Just build it up.
More.
****.
****.
More.
Touch my mind.
Don't touch my heart,
No stop.
Yes there.
A little more.



Dzięki.
Everyone a Sailor

Sept. 2010

Everyone a sailor,
everyone a waiter,
everyone a planner,
everyone an executive chef,
charting courses for grownuphood,
planning meals, banquets.

foolishness, selecting the ingredients for
an award winning recipe of life ,
marking stars,
sextant in hand,
make meetings,
scheduling a conference call,
practice risk taking,
serving, while multitasking

serendipity is mine to
make and behold

marry this one,
add a little cumin,
travel seven seas and
have seven sons,
the eighth I'll discover and
name it after me,
Son of Mine Own Stolen Days

Lighting or storm,
illness and thunder,
ne'er will be disturbances,
on my voyages

But we forget,
we err,
the danger of being becalmed is the one we ignore,
the slowest leakage,
drowned by seepage,
the small risk that transforms us from
sailors to one who
waits,
alone on a lost isle,
with nothing of substance on which to survive,
we slow starve to death on a
diet of our own
mixed metaphors

There was a time,
when I did not value time,
discarded days like seeds
random scattered in garden,
more curious than hopeful
what might appear, and uncaring if
they were all winded away

Who spent days like cash,
thinking I had plenty and
more to make,
gave away in haste
what had no redeemable value,
thinking time was refuse and waste

Becalmed,
what need for chances,
daily escapades,
gave twenty years of mine
away to the undeserving, punished by God, cancer stricken
*****, who made me so miserable for so long,
in one grand gesture,
signed it away,
and asked the devil
for nothing in return

Did not drink,
Did not take pills,
Did not smoke,
But life disdained,
I try to **** myself
By eating TV dinners
six times daily

Do not laugh,
it nearly worked
and my obit
would have been the lead
side splitting ar-tickle in the
New York Times
Science Section!

But here I am
a survivor,
and I have formed
an association of one;
The Society of Explorers, Planners and Plotters
And Those Who Serve By Waiting

We meet once every day
for the rest of my life,
call the meeting to order,
Consult Robert's Rules,
Quorum of one present?
No new business?
Meeting adjourned!

Meeting Summary:
You may plan with good
intent
You may buy or you may
rent
You may be bereft or
content
You may plan or just
wait
**but if you let a day pass
without recording one
poetical truth
in your own manner,
of your own choosing,
then you have failed
yourself,
do not wait,
set sail!
This is one of them...
FYI. I stumbled
On a bunch of poems 2~3 years old.   Very different style.   Hohoho Merry Chanukah to me,   Most very long, will fire at will;  long so not suitable for the 10W crowd....sigh. Oh yeah, one more thing, I wrote them on my cell phone, usually in the bathtub, yes, I went thru a lot of  corporate phones...
 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
st64
buoy
 Aug 2013 Quentin Briscoe
st64
blistering day shuns a walk
all flock to recycled air-con of malls
few venture out* . . .



1.
walk along a mountain path
dislike snakes
wear heavy ankle-boots
rough route
craggy stones
grow tired

2.
head on stone
fall into drowsy slumber
baking brains gathering aches

3.
huge mountain appears
espy a cut opening along the side
a welcoming slit
enter slowly
step by step
seems to brook entry to no more
wonder what calls inside

4.
distant drumming
not afraid
joy fills supreme
reducing epicenter
gentle hands touch and pull in
negating every fear
melting away bleak thoughts
sink deeper into the earth
down . . . down . . . down
into cavities unknown
follow secret canal away from here

5.
sweetest eyes greet and kiss
fall into soft furrows
carried along canal of warmth
close the eyes
fall in heart with glowing ambience
subtle humming felt beneath the soles
sweetest honey-lake
deeper . . . deeper . . . deeper
sublime cocoon - always dreamt of
what supreme bliss
falls in lap of bearer

6.
all cares washed away
known memories seem to float off
as a dinghy to a waterfall
lost over that lip
free fall
free fall

conscience takes a bobbing nap
on waves which lull the senses
into drifting buoy
as conscious dips
utter serenity
spirit moves freely
totally unencumbered


/ /
[awareness - jolted - sudden - open
as corporeal fetters take hold once more
teeter into rude awakening
rub eyes to verify
faculties catapulting in greedy succession
/ /
find a hessian bag on rock
half-afraid to check inside
seemingly empty
lift the edge and peer inside
/ /
the most silent rainbow of inner dreams
long-forgotten wishes flow
into being
as rains come down]
/ /



no more fear.. again
no more tension
no answering to
no deprivation
no derision

two pure doves hover
quite high
a pale-blue
buoy ~
the only signs of hope




blistering judgment dissolves
beautiful buoy floating
a way.... to marve cut of pure crystal

away...
on an endless ocean of calm







S T, 20 August 2013
sometimes answers are found unexpectedly - in strangest and most unlikely places.
******, what the hell... ?? lol
other times, we gotta CARVE 'em from ... adversity!




sub: heed

1.
do I listen to my inner voice enough?
do I miss out on the true messages?
will I heed its call
yes, I do wonder . . .


2.
(lesson to self:
best to first shut the hell up, in order to excel :)

and also shut out . . . the noise of the world!

(note 2self: get ear-plugs)

now, time for me to heed that sweet advice
and
shurrup!

:)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Iff65S86NY
Sad, mooning morning
Lost beasts and time
Disgust for machine lust overwhelming
It's not that I don't love you
That you don't love me enough
To sinfully and wantonly **** me
After all it's my birthday
Cause I'm old and you've lost interest
in being the man I loved
That's why our children tricked you
into writing and sending your confession

Stand up and take a bow
we learned your lessons well
who to trust, how to trust, and when
Turned us kids into your spies,
your lies, your alibis
to get us to create the software to do it
So you could **** your mystic **** genie
please know our kindness as hatred
All access passes to dumb *******
This memeallscene is a gallery crawl,
a gallow's walk of perps,
who should have known better

Just a thanks for clogging
the artists' ether with kiddy ****
much love for Kate Torn
we used your magick
to put us back together
Your address is on the ticket,
the reddress that you bought her.
Tap lightly, tap lively not,
the tuoche of Jack Frost is upon you.

All the best and much kindness.
Perfection is a trick of the mind.

This poem will change and tighten
the ties that bind us together
From the women and men of Bandahache.
for the women who sign away the right
to tell their stories
I hear you Anita Hill
But we've been stalked and stifled long enough
Yes, that's what prayer can do
DRAFT 2
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