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Jonny Angel May 2014
Cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clin­k,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
"Come get some
*******!"
Cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
cl­ink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****­
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
"That's right,
uh-huh"
Cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,­
click
thunk,
click
thunk,
"****,
a freaking jam!!!"
Vrooooop,
tap
tap
tap,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
­cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
"Wooooooooooooo,
woooooooooo"
C­ha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink­,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
clink,
cha-*****
cl­ink,
"Ammo......
MORE AMMO!!!"
A thirty round magazine with one jam & one in the chamber.
Mrs Robota  Jan 2019
Mad at Cha
Mrs Robota Jan 2019
Got Tupac in my ear
Singing “I ain’t mad at cha”
And I feel it
Cause it was my fault
I ****** up again
but all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

Yeah I know you're tired of hearing it
The excuses and sorry's
But it's all I have
and all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

Got Tupac in my ear
Singing, “I ain’t mad at cha”
And I need it
Cause I know I don't deserve forgiveness
And all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me
I ain't mad at cha
Please don’t be mad at me

One day I'll make it all right
But for now
all I can do is beg

Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
Please don’t be mad at me
So don’t be mad at me

I ain't mad at cha
To my friends, family, and everyone
I'm sorry I'm such a ******* ***** up
laura 2  Jul 2019
cha cha cha~
laura 2 Jul 2019
Forgotten notes are far sweeter
to the remembering measure
the delectable silence to meditate in
flowing between the years of leisure

cha-cha-cha, scatter and sway the sounds
of a sunday road slowly stealing desire
danço a hula huki e o cha-cha-cha~
hair flows in the cleave of sweet auric air
Mateuš Conrad Mar 2016
it's like they're feeding themselves the line: things i should have said / thought about / cared about... me? bring on the woodwinds and saxes and violins... like the other day, they really wanted to make the classical music scene pretty by enforcing a weird post-colonial theory of how composers and musicians should be black once in the while, i dig that the japanese just love chopin, but come on: john coltrane, sonny clark, miles davis, cannonball adderley? who the hell wants it to look pretty, like a half-wit beauty of a woman: i want it mandible, not porcelain... next thing you'll be telling me is that a donkey can moo... jazz is an impromptu get-together, it's not an impromptu scribble scribble scribble readying a bunch of ponce ******* to sit it out stiff in a grand music hall - when i went to see swan lake by tchaikovsky the crowd clapped so frequently without a clear moment of aspiration to feel the music... plus i think ballet ruins the music, all that stomping, it's not an art-form, but an encircling stampede: plus i think it's also a sadism; rumba cha cha cha mambo cha cha cha tango cha cha cha foxtrot cha cha cha.*

after qualifying to be listening
to b.b.c. radio 4, after all the ponce
of classic f.m., i find that
people listening to radio 4
are craving a schizophrenic simulation,
they're the ones who never
cried listening to a piece of music,
they want company...
honest to god, schizophrenics (ego shrapnel)
complain about the symptom of
"hearing" voices (yes, the sense needs
ambiguity)... while those on
the b.b.c. radio 4 diet always want
company, they're not prone to liking
thinking... the world's weirdest simulator;
i'll admit it, even the cheesiest pop
music makes me feel like candy floss
in comparison to middle-age depth of talk.
Mateuš Conrad May 2016
† really is a poor man's Nike tick, or the three stripes
of a.d.i.d.a.s. (Korn ref. mind you),
here on testimony, yet again the Kaiser
i quote: 'logos are the Esperanto of
marketing'...
so † is the poor man's logo...
                          capitalism can shove too
many at you, like the star of david,
or the scythe moon of islam encapsulating
the star of the north (Venus) on several flags...
why are the Arabs born in the 1980s encapsulating
the zeitgeist of disillusionment our generation
feels towards our elders? they're the only ones
with ***** to commit the crimes they commit,
because our generation is down-trodden
they feel remorse when they rebel,
stick a strawberry flavoured ****** on that
***** and shove it up my ***, will you?
i might just taste the strawberries after it has been
into the black hole of digestion - i might just
turn to stellar daydreams of moonwalking
myself into a stable suburban family-friendly
U or PG rated movie afternoon. like ****, ha ha.
the arab youth, they're the Zeitgeist of our generation,
1980s orientated, they see the scams and the bluffs
and the insurance policies, the missing retirement
plans akin to B.H.S. sort-of loosing them
when the head of the company sells it for £1
and blows all the pension policies on a yacht to
enter a wrestling-match with some rich russian oligarch
(oiled up ~lark... could have written -gark):
and i have the bigger peanuts, because i befriended
an elephant and charged against the Macedonian horde
throwing Alexander off his horse.
swear to god i caught a bottle of water that
Fieldy threw into the crowd, and noticed that i caught it,
back in the day at London Arena - where
they filmed the video for some Slipknot song and
i was almost crushed and constipated; yep,
when the Docklands was the answer to Wembley.
so yeah, what's with that coco the †, cha cha cha
Chopin and chaps and shoo?
well... i do remember having to endure being made
fun of in primary school for my pronunciation,
i only started learning English from scratch at 8
and was fluent before all the ****** natives could
say something like onomatopoeia,
i was made fun of after i said PUMA
rather than PJUMA...                on my way to swimming
lessons (yeah, learned to swim on my own)...
retards inserted the J... told you Jesus only made us
"try" and speak politely... and that turned out to
be a Patti Smith song... although American Head Charge's
rock n' roll ****** cover of her's i prefer.
Mateuš Conrad Apr 2019
.    head score...
don't know, don't ask,
  it just popped
into my head
like the idea of a unicron...
it means something,
akin to
   mohawk haircut
prior to
   sioux excess
practice of...
   what should have been
left to the turkish
barbers... i said: can i have
shave, i didn't imply
           ******* scalping me!
welcome,
to the 2020 redneck bonanza...
hell, hollywood is dead...
slaughter outside "the house"...
any slaughter is a good
slaughter.
            fully pearled sheen
worth of a smile...
       and look...
just look,
      how death tows...
whatever is to be made
of hell,
    just about the time,
when heaven
takes toward staging
its original intent
of bailing out;
  if only we were found dead
held to account
by being fed to the hounds,
rather than social zombies:
cha-cha-cha...
      cha-cha-cha...
   chatterer
and the remaning worth of chew.
Aa Harvey  Jul 2018
Change it
Aa Harvey Jul 2018
Change It.


Change it, change it, change it, change it;
Change it!!!
Let’s make a change now; change it!  
Let’s make a change now; change it!
Let’s make a change now;
So we can figure out what this poem is all about.


Change it!  It’s time for you to;
Change it!  You know it’s in you.
The power to make something unbelievable;
The power for you, to change the world…


So just change it!  Let’s make a change now;
Change it!  Go on now change it;
Change it! The time has come now;
For you to go out there and cha-cha-change the world.


Come on now, change it!
The time has come now; change it!
It’s in your hands now; change it!
Let’s all make a difference and cha- cha-change the world.


Cha-cha-cha-change it!
Let’s make a difference.
Change it!  Let’s make a new Eden.
Let’s change it, re-arrange it...

And let us find a new way to move forward in time…



(C)2013 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Mateuš Conrad Dec 2015
poet, or philosopher, it doesn't really matter which is which, or whether the two are indistinguishable, notable in the former scenario, when someone has an eclectic bounty of interest is simply not love-scorned or love-nostalgic, love-idealistic, does it really matter? i was once called a philosopher: a teenage girl said in third person (as if she was a puppet and some-thing was moving her tongue): 'talk to this philosopher'... not in that sarcastic way that philosopher is an misnomer or an abused term of: self-gratifying grandeour, it was quiet genuine, but: imagine my shock... i had an ambition in life, it was to perform a service to thinking: without doing as much as hammering a nail into a plank of wood, that's the ambition of any thinking man: to borderline on telekinesis or telepathy... that was Hegel's modus operandi, his categorical imperative... after all: ego is a metaphysical tool, while thought is its metaphysical canvas... the mere suggestion that a copernican inversion can happen in physics "contra" metaphysics... it's already apparent, any word can behave like a hand touching the sacred object / subject of transfiguration and become something else, even a misnomer can find itself given solace to the user... for now i've forged a belief in the ultimate: away from the absolute in relation to omni in unum - one first has to learn to think, before having to learn to feel... mind you, i don't like the current nietzschean inversion of the cartesian equation: (ego) sum ergo (ego) cogito... esp. among the youtube political commentators, too many examples to give: i'm a classical liberal, i'm a progressive, i'm a liberterian... i don't really like seeing: i am, precede i think... i don't even like the origin-argument of this inversion: i exist for the sole purpose of thinking... after all: i think prior to being, since i can also daydream and not be what my thinking suspects as a possible truth-outcome... that's the nature of the freedom of thought: i don't have to be what i think, i can find thinking to be a pleasure, when the senses do not offer me any pleasure derivative, e.g. eating can sometimes be boring, chewing, chewing, *******... i eat because i need to live: i don't live to eat... i really have under-appreciated Hegel, i should really visit my grandparents for two months and read the phenomenology of the spirit: i'm trying to replicate the saying attributed to him (verbatim), but i doubt that i will, i don't have the patience to sift through all the quotes, but it goes along the lines of: beware oh wordly man, to not be a pawn in a thinking man's game... hence my suggestion of philosophy entering into the realms of telekinesis and telepathy: you get to see things play out and people express the origin story, of your own memetic generation of the original idea... how are poets finally alligned to philosophers? good thing that i studied chemistry at edinburgh university: we return to atoms, words are no longer enough, sure, they are, contrary to the statement...  (why did i under-appreciate Hegel? ah... had my head stuck up heidegger's and kant's *****...

  integration? great!
but i'll meet you halfway...
    i'll eat your fish & chips,
your englush breakfast,
  i won't sing your anthem: god save the queen,
****** anthem, too short,
but i will whistle through:
the british grenadiers' fife & drum...
like i might through la marseillaise...
i'll meet you halfway...
i'm not a former colony member,
commonwealth,
   i'm not some ****- paying bribes
to the british powers
to join in on a world cup of cricket...
this is what happens when immigration
turns sour...
they either lesrn the host tongue,
or they don't learn it...
or they can't distinguish the two:
speak polonaise at home,
speak the hosts' sprechen outside of it...

   if the ******* aren't suspect:
by not being bilingual...
the arab beatles... jihadi john...
          ringo star h'ahmed...
  george ali...
                paul mecca rashid...
oh i'll settle for integration...
but don't you ******* think i'll give
up my mother tongue
for "c.c.t.v." close-ups back home,
home being my private lodge...
like ******* will...
  i'll speak your tongue in public...
but i'm not ******* former commonwealth
****- riddled with a need to play
cricket, "forget" my tongue in order
to compensate for olives
              and sun-burnt bananas!

a former colony ****-**** is about
to dictate the rules for fellow
europeans, on the tram-ride from
Birmingham to Nottingham?
seriously?
        but of course the englishman
will favor the former colony pet bush-monkey
from sri lanka...
since the brit can't really dictate
to a fellow european his superiority
complex... which he can...
with a petted copper skinned
toy-ting...
who brought 'im a korma curry!
nice one, ol' laddy...
        right on the plonker...
                 i'm not finished!
                        i'm just getting started!

gehirnablassen:

perfectly respected immigration,
given that so many english girls just love
the attention their **** minders,
sexually abused,
not really making it as nurses
or... ahem... karaoke superstars
worth the while of britain's got talent
or voice of britain,
or...whatever the ****** show was
that gave birth to one direction...

so a.... brain-drain? good immigration?
the best!

i can sit awhile by myself and count...
1. the sparrows,
2. the swallow,
3. the starlings,
   4. the crows,
5. the magpies,
6. the pigeons,
7. the woodland pigeons
(fatter, with dog collars),
8. kestrels
  (one is enough to begin
the count)...
9. the blackbirds....
10. seagulls... seagulls?! 25 miles from
romford to southend! seagulls?!
this far in-land?! fair enough...
11. a robin...
                   12. goldfinch...
i just sit and watch these birds
in my garden, i sometimes spot
a darting frog in the garden,
i'm more english than the english...
i actually enjoy owning a garden...
the "english" surrounding me
exemplify a bbq. as a luxury parade...
what's so luxury about marinating
some meat, and then grilling it?!
please! enlightend me!

    gehirnablassen...
                   brain-drain immigration,
the type asiatic tiger-mums brag about
at child olympics...
   for the required rubric stature...
******* mothers, basically...

1. χaron χaos - cha-cha-cha       khaos
2. theaetetus - so / ma   letters / syllables:
     graphemes: sz phi theta
      compound syllables (caron s) - Na (sodium)
3. music choice...
       brain damage perturbator ft. noir deco
    virga iesse floruit, gradual of eleanor of
britanny...
4. pride / stubborness (not equal to) honour,
tolerating islam is not the same
as respceting islam...
   german 19th century fascination
with islam...
     θought and φilosophy...
   greek in warsaw, giving him directions,
talks: sounds so much like spanish...
5. england a nation of singletons,
idiosyncracy... social pressures in poland
and even in h'america missing in england
to marry...

1.

chamaleon tongue,                    shape shifter,
bez akcentu w piśmie - więciej akcentu poza pismem
(trainspotting scottish), welsh, cockney,
east london altogether, pakistani english, etc.
e.g. rather, or raver, i.e. not rayver
(someone who parties at night on ecstasy pill)
but ra'ver, like verging on a new discovery,
it's not even the = ~v but is actually v...
english is a chamaleon tongue, you say 'nostic
when you write gnostic, i say diagnostic,
therefore say gnostic, you say 'nome, i say gnome,
as cf. with diagnostic;
then there's the case of the per se:
you say chamaleon - no kappa there apperent, eh?
but there's chappie, chap, chuckles,
no kappa in a millionth chance
to also say nough'ledge for knowledge,
a bit like that gnome of yours...
as i said before: a language without
a written insertion of stressors / distinctions
will produce a massive array of diacritical
stressors / distinctions outside the written format,
but it will also become as complex as to
allow adults with learning difficulties e.g. dyslexia,
and that horrid internet slang of shortcuts:
i ate my 8 when i was late for my disco date
with the cha cha cha melon.

p.s. if there's a hay patch at the beginning, the nasal flute
will ask larry 'the lynx' saxophone to hark it out with rasp
gritting of phlegm... but if it's somewhere else down
the piccadilly line... it will act like a nudist spy and resonate
less than expected; probably mingling with f, i think.
Mateuš Conrad Nov 2018
you fed me, therefore you armed me...
now show me the snowflake
trenches...
      i'll invite the vermin...
to keep them company...
  what?!
aren't all Polacks vermin?!
            oh... really?
             i heard otherwise...
eat your ******* ***** numb!
i am fury...
i am gorge...
i am everything but thought!
i! i... i debate with
the hive...
                        you start calling
one vermin,
you start calling all, vermin...
see how the hive reacts...
thank **** the ****** migrants
of the generation that joined
the European Union have
decided to move back...
  ******* applause!
who the **** would even be sane enough
to stay on these isles?!
what... like a Britney can't
get no Pakistani?!
  last time i inquired about
Rotherham...
that wasn't a problem...
        you didn't take to examine the words
politely...
mind you...
          rats have transcendent value,
well equipped with:
eating you;
  VER-MIN!
the English north Pakistanis could
have called me anything else...
now i have a ******* ringing
in my head...
like... eating out a **** could become
much more than a vegan enterprise
of oral...
  like...
         the prodigy & tom morello...
or pearl jam's rats...
only the northern ****...
your want your... "little" culture war?!
have it...
      vermin...
               Jew harbourers...
       us: Herr ****...
   we... vermin...
   people of neither book: but the sewers...
and whatever Palestine looks
like in the House of the Saudi...
they don't eat, don't sleep
they don't feed, they don't seethe
bare their gums when they moan and squeak
lick the dirt off a larger one's feet...
and the Lebanese wonder,
literally, "wonder"...
why aren't these vermin integrating?
who the **** said i wanted to
continue eating falafel?!
you want prejudice?!
what's up with your accent?!
huh?
where you from?!
  you want to hear that sort of *******
from immigrants?
esp. those who decided to settle...
what's wrong with the answer:
from 'ere... why?
i'm ******* praying for more Polacks
to leave these isles...
like...
i don't pray... but the insinuation
is there... **** them...
**** these David Attenborough masochistic
sadists...
        your women, your fate,
just like in the Victorian era
concerning the children...
     please... ****** is as much a racial
slur as Dr. Dre... is...
what? Mozart?!
have it, delete me...
                 whatever...
                i've learned one thing from
an innocent private conversation
on Wattpad in 2015...
           have it all...
          whatever...
               you die by the hand
that also feeds you...
        have it...
                          have it all...
              once upon a time,
once upon a space...
  once upon upon a once neither
space or time....
ended with:
  forever... what was always
what came prior, but never the after;
happy was never
a necessitated outcome...
to begin or end with...
      it was...
               a gambler's luck...
and since so many didn't gamble...
it was never supposed to resonate
as an opportunity of outcome,
or expectation...
                        namely?
happy is what people achieve...
when the angry do not resonate
within the inhibiting construct of fear...
happy is what people achieve...
when they learn to fail...
  fear? fear is coupled with anger...
happiness?
  that ******* is coupled with failure.
Nomad  Apr 2014
Don't-cha know?
Nomad Apr 2014
Don't-cha know,
that where ever you go,
it'll be okay,
from everything you do, to what you say.

Don't-cha know,
that you can stop worrying and take it slow,
that it'll be okay,
It's a great change of pace, wouldn't-cha say?

Don't-cha know,
that the sun still shines tomorrow, the moon will still be aglow?
There's always tomorrow, a brand new (wondrous!, glorious!) day,
that the beauty isn't out there, but in you, everyday.

Don't-cha know,
you're a wonderful person, why? Because I said so!
Listen here, you silly little things,
you're just a small little baby, thinking they have wings!

It's time you knew,
about what you can do,
it's getting rather odd, that I have to tell you.

Know.
That you can smile, and laugh, you can dance, and jump,
you can hear the music around you, breath it in and feel the pump!
But at least the most, which I dare say you most certainly have of,
this my friends you hold near and dear, I say is...
Love.

So now you know, what you knew before,
just this time chin-up and smile,
even for a little while,
as you make your way and through the door.

Because today's the day, like everyday,
that you make a difference to someone in some way,
go against the world of misery, away with pain and fear,
it's time to rise up for you, for me, your fellow friend and peer,
it's time to show and share, what you know you hold deer,
it's time to go, and let it go,
It's time for love,
Don't-cha know?

— The End —