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Matloob Bokhari Dec 2014
IN THE MEMORY OF APS ATTACK
MATLOOB BOKHARI


I read with sorrow the pages of history
The stories of atrocities by cruelest men
History is weeping like rain in telling me
It is not new innocent blood, it is very old blood
Yesterday they killed little boys with big arrows
Today they are killing  babes with deadly bombs
Eternal is the glory of  the memory of Hussain
Deep desires of Yazeed are despaired in darkness
eke  Sep 2013
aps #1
eke Sep 2013
That look.
That look. It has kept me up, got me through.
You desired me.
Where did it go?
Is it me? Was it you?
The something that was there for so long
it seems.
You saw me, and wanted me anyway.
Or thought you did.
Has it really gone?
Where do I put my sadness?
Do I pour it back into myself, through the cuts in
my skin from my vicious words?
Of course he went off me.
He saw me.
Or do I blame you?
User. Liar. Wanter. Coward. Weak.
Or do I just find a way to live with the sadness
that we wanted each other but couldn't
have each other. You weren't mine to have, even
if you wanted to be.
So where has it gone? Our connection, our
attraction, our lust and hope?
It stays with me as the lump in my throat when
I think of our diverging futures.
As the silent goodnight I say to the side which
has now become 'yours'.
As the dream-you who visits me often.
As the hope I cling to for 'one day'.
But not this day.
Emma Liang Aug 2010
Take my hand, friend
just for a sec-
let's leave this ****** land of
SATs, PSATs, APs,
and college admission essays and guidance counselors
and homework and pop quizzes and exams and whatever else-

                                          behind.

Let's be two again.

Let's make Pringle-chip-duck faces
and grin with orange peel smiles-
I'll paint my nails yellow and we'll read Dr. Seuss with British accents
in the dimming light of the old
falling-down fort of pillows and blankets (that's almost too small for us)

Let's pretend
              Let's pretend
                            Let's pretend

That we've never seen the glowing screen of
televisions, computers, IPods,
that we haven't spent weeks wearing down our thumbs on text messages.
              Let's forget fights over boys that weren't even all that hot.

Let's sit in my yard and eat raw cookie dough behind my momma's back
And make too-sweet fresh lemonade, and blow dandelions
(into other neighbor's yards, of course)
Spray garden hoses at each other
and laugh and scream and giggle and make mud-pies.
Let's make twenty different secret handshakes,
Eat wild raspberries and hide sticky fingers
And pinky promise- again and again- BFFs forever.

Let's lose ourselves in the bliss of childhood
just one more time- please.

                            Just in case Peter Pan decides to visit.
Comments and suggestions and criticisms all appreciated; thanks for reading! (:
Matloob Bokhari Dec 2014
IN THE MEMORY OF APS ATTACK
MATLOOB BOKHARI


I read with sorrow the pages of history
The stories of atrocities by cruelest men
History is weeping like rain in telling me
It is not new innocent blood, it is very old blood
Yesterday they killed little boys with big arrows
Today they are killing  babes with deadly bombs
Eternal is the glory of  the memory of Hussain
Deep desires of Yazeed are despaired in darkness
APS= ARMY PUBLIC SCHOOL
Emma Liang Mar 2013
this is a poem about love,

             not boys, for once, or lesbians –
                           but roomie love.

my roommate is my other half,
like when we were little and chewed halves of gummy bears to make two-flavored ones with different colored heads and feet.

3:30 am on a Monday night,
all of our classes the next day, no homework done –
who else will stay up with me to read over each other’s oldest emails,
all disgustingly useless,
all marked as “sent with high importance”

who else will write poetry with me in the looming shadow of Chemistry tests
help keep the Spring terms exams and US History APs at bay
with jokes that aren’t funny but I laugh at anyways
because you are stupid and you think they are –

and everybody in the dorm thinks
we are insane, but that’s okay with me because we have

enough inside jokes to live on for a year
and  
                    each other
Lawrence Hall Dec 2016
ICU Waiting Room in Advent

Artistic gilded deer repose in peace
Among the store-room-dusty plastic leaves
Of decorator-decorated wreaths;
From thence they gaze serenely down upon
Sneeze-spotted pics in People magazine
And empty coffee cups recyled from
Recycled natural fibers recycled
From green fair trade recycled soy inks.

No ikons grace this dying-place, no cross,
No crucifix to focus farewell prayers;
Christ’s people gather lovingly around,
Their baseball caps thrall-ringed about their heads
In devout remembrance of passing souls.
Their cell-phone aps pass through their vague, weak eyes
As once the ancient biddings and prayer-worn beads
Slipped gently through the lips and hands of men.
a m a n d a  Aug 2013
burchfield
a m a n d a Aug 2013
why does
the world have
to look so
beautiful sometimes...
sunlight filters
through trees
kids fling water
up from the creek
to catch light in air
in my ear
smooth
spanish
groove
and it all
makes me
want to cry
because i can't appreciate
a moment
everything beautiful
is so f l e e t i n g
everything hard
and hateful
lingers
and sticks
you can't just
******* have something
good.
you can't.

during a melt
d
o
w
n

in college
i saw a counselor
that told me to face my fear of
the worst possible events happening
use my voice to project the probabilities out loud
would i lay down and die? doubtful. say what you would do.
it doesn't seem so bad when it's specific...
it's a cloud of random doom that seems unthinkable.
you realize it's all do-able
a little at a time
you will survive

but now                                            
that is where i live              
in the                              
subterranean gloom
with well thought through
foreknowledge of the worst
possible events
and my likely
miserable reactions

so i watch my life
c oll Aps e
and i want to
laugh hysterically

*******. *******. *******. and *******.                                              
what the **** am i supposed to do?                                                    

reinvention is jolly,
they say
Ha!

Bah - it was just a job
another will just POP up
any moment
HA!
                                                      ­  (someone seriously help me,
i'm laughing so hard i'm choking)


Gah!
who needs a mate?
not me!

solitary confinement
sure pumps out poetry
in extreme quantity,
this i will confess

solitude is good
i like quiet
  music  
movies    
writing
    reading
   wine

but pray tell,
do you realize
how many hours
there are
in
one
*******
day?
when your purpose is
torn from you?
and you are left to wander
the earth alone
to find a new life mission
or the least miserable substitute?

            have you felt the                          
    gut-wrenching longing
alone in bed
in
(utter silence)
night
after
night
after
night?
not for love past
but for love new
for lust
for touch
to not feel alone
in the world

at times
i feel like a
person made of
the thinnest glass
with some nasty creature
perched on my shoulder
laughing horribly
sharpest pin always touching me
hammer always raised in the air
ready to strike.

whatever.

you're going to tell me everything is going to be fine, right?

yeah.
Faith Jan 2018
Since March of last year On You
Tube I have been captivated by this amazing man.


Please Check It Out.



After Prison Show.
Plz Start frm beg of vids
PK Wakefield  May 2011
white
PK Wakefield May 2011
WhiTe
            ,
               you
             are   a
          fine colour
        you are a fast
      colour.youarethe
    morning i found U
  sleeping in slump and
polished heather with rust
                                              gilding just the morsels O'
                                               your canny fist of petals
                                                who hides in splendor
                                                 ed morning's vest pr
                                                  icking up your glos
                                                   sy neck to rub you
                                                    r cheeks on the fe
                                                     lt of gorgeous b
                                                      rinded sky. U
                                                       wHitE, you
                                                        are the ve
                                                         ry lust O'
                                                           faries
                                                          ­ you R
                                                            lig­ht
                                                        and heavy
                                                      froli­cking wo
                                                     men as with th
                                                    eir skin you pain
                                                   t they stark and w
                                                   ith just their morse
                                                    ls very slightly ro
                                                     sy rouged and r
                                                      osy slightly he
                                                       aps of hips o'
                                                        roses and
                                                         heather:
                                                        ­     URwhIte
Breeze-Mist Apr 2017
It's not about interest, it's how you place
Your classes are weapons in an arms race
Your friends are taking two APs, so you take three
Soon we're mired in college work when high school is all we see

Counselors don't help, they only edge us on
Telling us we need advanced levels, or all college spots are gone
In Fairfax County, we score so high on tests
We ignore our thirty three percent depression and say we're the best

Because here all that matters is the grade on your transcript
You're a factory product, another computer chip
So if you're friend takes five college courses, take seven
After a semester, beg mercy and give up on heaven
I titrate 20mg of 2C-T,
A substance I named Tesseract.
The effective dose is supposedly
three to fives times more than mine
but I quite like it here. Warm, benign
headspace, not altogether insightful but
friendly (and
we all need friends at times).
2,5-Dimethoxy-4-methylthiophenethylamine,
It was the first '2C' to have a sulfur atom,
A realm of possibilities opened up from there:
2C-T-1, Tesseract. I wonder what of
2C-T-2, Rosy. Or
2C-T-7, Beautiful. Or
2C-T-21, Aurora. Per'aps
2C-T-28, Vesper. I'd go on,
I do wander so often upon
these marvelous compounds.
Happy birthday to me, I guess, I do
what I love
and only hope
to keep exploring
as I age, I wish only
for
endless
adventures
with the best of friends.

I am rekindling the Entheon,
My gift to me is my spirituality.
Ken Pepiton Nov 16
Something's missing, alone.
- locus focus fire
- relief
At first, the state
of being, only, one like,
in the extreme, being

once,
in a while passing
at thought speed past
instances
on planes,
like that one
carving lines up there,
above my head, so here,

I laugh and materialize,
a new idea,
as long as I am breathing,

I am not exactly alone, I know,
not alone, at all,
on Earth
on average,
we all breathe
at once,
half breathing in,
half breathing out, but

never, on Earth does one breathe alone.

-----

The defenders of the news,
used to keep the mob's on task,

deny the common sense was, once
commonly sensed, there were no trans

girls denied the right
to dominate natural born girls
with warrior spirits or herd instincts,

edit maeeks, scratches on the window

----- what do I make of this?
------ all in, same bet riding.

K!@#$%e Frontgomery. 11/14
This is not a broken record,
it is relearned relearning
released attention paid

Pathos, we sense,
awesome strength
of us, as speaking spirits,
soul bound
to finish life, once.

Or I read some lines you wrote,
and this is a blinding dose day,
later…
the names change
to protect the innocent
whoa today
by accident I know,
public access channels
wild winds blow though
in the metadata, there's a curve\
we are on one
of these secondtho'
ghtought
cought 'opesup-resources presense
Showing results
for k!@#%$ie 'ontgo'ery
Search instead
for k!@#$%e'ontgo'ely

Kay-yes Frontgomery
Based
on the provided information,
K_e Frontgomery is a Legal Assistant
at Frontgomery Law Firm
in a sebseensense - State. Her previous experience
in Customer Service
has equipped her
with exceptional communication skills, making her
an effective Front Desk Person
for the firm.
She greets clients,
answers phone calls,
schedules appointments,
and handles administrative tasks.

Additionally, K
e  Frontgomery has a presence
on social media platforms,
including TikTok,
where she shares videos and interacts with her followers.

It’s worth noting
that there are multiple individuals
with the name Kaylee/Kaylie Etc Frontgomery, and some
of them may be unrelated
to K
_e  the law firm employee. According
to public records, there are 27 individuals with this name living
on Earth in this US, ranging
in age
from 25
to 79 years old, and residing
in various states,
of attention
to details

including past caring, past wishing,
past knowing if any body cared
to know
what change occurs
at full myelination,
post first heart attack,
simple peace
of mind
available locally
goes virall fungally in
Washington, Mississippi,
Arizona and Texas.
as Sublime Insight RSO
unified fungus organic,
mossy recipes for keeping

fire lo' no smoke, little light.

As we always do, we tend
to cluster,
thinking we all agreed
to go all in, what
if
now is the instant this works.
Bloomub'ug boomer chicks in flicks.
The instant I read it next, I continue,
after choosing here, a branch chance…

If your worst you met mine,
and we felt so much alike,

we could laugh
at ourselves,
and make our worst effort

make all the difference
in the world,
destroying
on purpose oh, art thou

… huge caches of idolized

times messengers
to next,
typesetter's ever,
what type's yours…

look out trains a comin'
hear that whistle
in my head,

so, I sit up straight,
to say I looked
paid attention
both ways and breathe-d, I see
that was not a heart attack
danke g-tts
yo, it was gwanowgnow our wake up
call,
all you plural weforms
in reformed
minds attempting a pearling
tyranny form
on the screen
minds tie through
in context
conscience used wittingly, aware.
Startle response store repurpose
Hot seat. On same response,…

That was not a train whistle,
it was my radiating heat wave device
hoping
to stave off the doubt devised
substantially,
to allow
spacing out, society some reason,
has a will
to keep us thinking happy
breathe-ing slowly
all
of the time,
being seventeen
in a wall projected dream,
go on, no lie, bliebe doch, this is it,

to the instance
in active prayer,
taxing old smoke songs meme-or-
ized materialized re-
ality
of ways al el 'aps
new
from hence forth,

for this very reason this is true,
peaceable, easily thinkable,
freely shared, peace
of mind, works as wisdom,
no war finds footing in, deep.
Smooth.

Gentle grades
to the top, mentioned once
on the cover
of the rolling stone
as the guy
without garbage can ears.

This imaginable in ever after, test,
could mankind continue in mind?

Soothing touch, oaken shade
on the bright green moss.

It rained last night, the moss
on my slowly decomposing,
granite wind sculpture
on the south edge,
of my rock wave

winds and water
have softened,

to be thankfuller timesoslow
printings all paid for let it ride

at the time it is sandy shore

let it continue becoming
decomposed granite
shaggy manzanita
thrive on.

Rain in fire season,
always feels like luck,
or answered prayers.

Luck is not a factor,
the phrase, often used
by holier me than I am, now;

makes me rethink my reason,
balance time and chance
at why,
would I know
of suffering it
to be so now,
and laugh out loud
on noticing
how rations
of mercy
and the best
of luck
are essentially one
matched set
given post amazement grace.
swatsgwanon, seentrue.
Clear.

Is it bigger than a bread box?

I laughuckinchuckled…

Do geniuses congregate inside?

Is it the hall
of just as it is,
in here,
it is dark, but nothing inside knows.

Feel for familiar touched once known,
think it felt, in a memory once formed,

is it important enough
to sing about?

I'd doubt it, were I you, but you know
that's not the case, not the situation,

you slightly guessing there is importance,
but which port
in the storm is always any.

Lighthouse

"signify, show, bear
or convey
in meaning," importance
at an instance
in co-knowing recognition.

Old spicy hints
screen wide
for long rides,
uploaded
from Grandma's educating books.
Good sense needed
to sell books.
Read books.

Humor and humorous
Henry W. Fowler
["Modern English Usage," 1926]
may be of use:

HUMOR: motive/aim: discovery;
province: human nature;
method/means: observation;
audience: the sympathetic
{ . }

WIT: motive/aim: throwing light;
province: words & ideas;
method/means: surprise;
audience: the intelligent

{ ! }
SATIRE: motive/aim: amendment;
province: morals & manners;
method/means: accentuation;
audience: the self-satisfied
{ soft yes ? }

SARCASM: motive/aim: inflicting pain;
province: faults & foibles;
method/means: inversion; audience:
victim & bystander
{ intaken sigh  }

INVECTIVE: motive/aim: discredit;
province: misconduct;
method/means: direct statement;
audience: the public
{  the blame to shame claim us }

IRONY: motive/aim: exclusiveness;
province: statement of facts;
method/means: mystification;
audience: an inner circle
{ chuckle, too, should I were I such }

CYNICISM: motive/aim: self-justification;
province: morals;
method/means: exposure of nakedness;
audience:
the respectable
{ oi, the real poets out-
here naked spirits bet    }

SARDONIC: motive/aim: self-relief;
province: adversity;
method/means: pessimism;
audience: the self
-- burp, sould aameri can,
free
to request refills
free
{who always laughs right here.}

And the sunshine rises,
the shining green moss shivers,
and another November is noticed.

Time Machine,
to prove we all can
imagine things many never think to…

The film was originally released
on August 17, 1960,
and was distributed
by Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer.
It received the Academy Award
for Best Special Effects[
for its time-lapse photographic effects, which show the world changing rapidly as the time traveler journeys
into the future.

{SO, seen by me the second release.}

Thus in the summer it had surefire
second run,
in that summer
of 1961
a story I read said
Aliens had no humor,
and the lie survival response

limits information leaking
from old, tape memory,
truly, late Eighties, Zips
from the Nineties.

Men, as in mental not the model,
men was translated cognatively as

firstpure, not simple pure indeed, done
on first use, we suppose, we seem to think,
this is always what wisdom is,
not kept secretly sacred
by trained guards.

Wisdom exists every where t
relitigation truth hides
nobel lies believed
to make mankind servile,
intentionally willing
to life,
with fair share,
Announce it today, simple act of faith.

Jubillee, across the board, all interest paid,
applies
to principle and any remainder
may be carried forward
in good faith put
to good use,

wise savings idea,
paid,
along the way
with usage fees and guarantees.

No holy turmoil,
have a jubilee,
and refuse
to move money
for war

any more,
at the core ai
we make think we wish
to be free
for banal evil actual reality,

we can learn our way past that,
first feed us no threat
of hell
to pay,

eh, old man, can you do that.

Indeed, I winked, and said, I think I can.

And laugh, holding a breath,
added to, intaken,
another
to the humm
of the whole room,
aware
at most the one fan
in the works, the rest is mental
and the radiant heater and noise
in the air, … Goethe got me
at bliebe doch,
think again, all things thought before
all things, indeed, done, did be done,
just the facts, calls all truths,
within context
of a wink and a nod, and a humm
from a thermo switch,
signaling same finger malfunction

as last winter cold finger first arroyo
corrugated plane re-al re-if-ity, live

This it, the initiation ritual old men do,
each year, this era
of moons, easy super close,
to suppose wisdom rides the night,
breaths
deeply taken
to make
one appear materially taken aback,

an aweform we are forming, a pattern.

Death and memorializing

Life, longer than planned for,
Lucky me, more experience,

letting dogtags identify the dead,
so witnesses need not
recall… but f
or dramatic effect.
recollecting… biographically
vivid real once,

how I came
to be kept alive,
with none certain why me,

and not… the dogtag owner.

- wonder if I would read this online,
- so I do it and, think while breathe-ing

Things that feel worth thinking twice,
some times feel worth the asking price.

Some times, not.

Rock formations, inform us now, yet,
this solid rock, was once under us all,

deep, down
in the viscous magma
above the churning flux, and then

the world fractured like a fried marble,
and this formation,
this solid rock
on which my house was built,
froze and rose a shattered jewel
rose by any named same idea
to serve the very role, inspiring
respiration, and a certain thankful note,

this window seen into and through,
as seeing into light
in all the colors
that make white seem soft
on the eyes.

It was a weekly dose day,
I look
at the time, while 3:29
cloudy, good wet outside


sneezing a series
of three and
one snuffle not swallowed then

breathe'd again,
take some space,
feel safe
for a while, kinda thinking

something's funny.

Weil's, not Wile's Proof,
this is the last stack
to filter
I have one gingerbread cookien
and two once used Tetly tea disks

when I am hungry and have coffee,
wish I may return
to satisfactory
resets
tea will do
go on, do it

Crossing the commons, laughing
in cyberspace, as conceived
in ARPA networks
of children asked
to form opinions,

what would you do
with a spelling tool
which knows all the words
and holds any we catch
on an infinite roll
of light we have
to write on
-
now can
that mean the same thing
in 197 Wikid-pedian tongues?
-
Wikipedian, parsing
CamelCaseLinking the scattered
data base fed us weforming plans
at will, all one could read and draw
to scale, brains cooperating
in scattered mankind,
so…
by late 2024…

as the doctrine evolved,
to seem globally alert
wise as
to clues, portents
of war or rising tides,

culturally mingling reasons
for worth and value
to be judged,

worth the attention paid any TV,
as we pass and take
in the time
of day;
when the whole world could know,
at once, a long anticipated event,

the second coming, acknowledged done,
indeed, or right now, some one who was

alive, at the announcement,
"there be some, standing here…"

In each short generation, each era's
birth cohort, those born between wars,
too close
to the next war
to be useful, they
strive all their lives
to prove war good, agreeing
to spend all life's potential profits on it.

Well, it came
to pass, when noted
in scripture globally used

to form powers
to enforce adherence
to interpretted dreams.

Holy gnosis, indeed, that knack,
of make believe, be not deceived,
Truth, as the Way Life's made,

is not mocked.

To tell the truth,
to one's own self, late
in life, as it were, while information
access, as it were, wetted the appetite,

for total immersion global literacy… a
we, we develop
from scratches
on stones.

Hohokam, those who vanished,
those who's lives are all used up,

lived where Phoenix is today.

We can recall research, just enough
to get by,
with an unresearched reason

thinking once
in Papago Park
I don't remember
to define my terms,
in order
to converse
with dead poets, preposed
who chose
to stay quiet, across time,

taking patience stretching lessons,
from story rejecting Jews, whose advantage,
in almost everything is the result
of knowing how
to sell a set
of moral values,
with Wisdom, patiently

post comprehension
of good news,
in times
of turmoil, such as we survived, as well.

When I know, my Grand ma,
was a rescue bride, twice chosen, once
as an orphan
without words, a native child
it was assumed, she had

{really materialized during an attempt
to understand, funda mind stant instance
ghost dance whyingmisabuse}

Minds
with ever sworn honor,
on each and every signifying glory ribbon
in the wind, as the Fighting 7th represents
arms, and bemetaled banners wavering
for victory held

each war reason, was the last.
Aitia.
Stood still,
to say what have we made today,

sense of many things long stood under, now,

looked down
on as signal
in side-real time,

just thinking
if we were
to judge angels, message memes,
when should one think
one must begin,
feeding children Suessible minds, begun

Genius
of us, uses made up just
in time,
to leave us co-be the makers
of the storm, portending
inheriting the wind;

these days, and those days, such as always
reoccur following abstractions
fit precisely
to the drama
of the childhood
of common man, wombed or un, undone
presupposed, prepositionally, spelt
discombobulated needed
no pedigree,
real state…
we knew the feeling,
finding dime store
time stretchers,
an abstraction Lisa painted,
touching moment, did it happen?,
here it did,
canonical internet
stories
with culturally significant messaging,
recommender bot 101
for strivers ever
after managing such wills as are being done,
on earth, but not as those same roles play out
in heaven,

as truth forms a self concept
in time, and we find ourselves swallowed
agree, this is ever,
after that, happening as we
agree, this is ever and we are init
for goodness sake,

rock on, Sisyphus, it's all downhill from here,
Jello time wink
slow thunk

this, an loneliness, amused me to no end.
I hope you had fun, you were not obliged,

religation on formal spirit mind sets,
never works, you could say this any where…

any one spends time reading
on phones.
502 or not please tell me if you don't especially like how long in takes to read.

— The End —