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Brandon Walus Oct 2011
He’s a ***** of in-
tellectual acumen. A real conveyor of post-modern acuity.
What he has to say doesn’t make sense to me.
No one understands his esoteric complexity.
He speaks of Aristotelian “virtues”, Platonic Forms, and other
“practical” participation by the particularities.
Part of all that not even he fully understands.

Juxtaposing Quniean “webs of Knowledge” with Davidson Coherantism
He is challenged by McDowells 2nd nature Bildung.
His conventional English is thus un-sung, while meta-physical abstractions are then hung
Out to dry, in the abstract realm sky. What color is that sky?
“Unfair Question” he cries.

“Tell me about God” I ask, “very well” he replies.
My brain is numb after one question, and a few words.
He continues, “Do the God(s) agree upon what is good?”
Yes is my reply. “If so, do they love what is good?” Again yes.
“Then, is the Good whatever the God(s) love, or do the God(s) love what is Good?”
He must be on drugs.

A little philosophy makes a man an atheist.
A lot makes him a believer,
just not in God. He praises Reason, his room is a shrine.
Within four walls one will not find, no not any sign
Of conviction.

What? All this time thinking, reflecting, meditating, abstracting, observing, weaving grand tapestries of thought and still he does not find a foot hold in reality?
What the hell were you thinking about?
He responds.

A stream of consciousness is all that is,
past is a referent future is a predicate.
I am not the “me” I refer to when I say “my book.”
No sir, I have never spoken to you any knowledge of me.
For that I have none of, but knowledge I am not without.
If it is one thing I know, it is that I know nothing.

I tell him certainly my English teacher would know something to defeat him,
I am soon disenchanted, for he has ammunition for her.
“Ask her”, he says “to ascertain the truth value to this grammatically perfect declarative Sentence.”  
Colorless green ideas sleep furiously.
Lisa Rickman Feb 2010
i'm losing to the raging inside me
it's crawling up my abdomen
creeping up my chest
clouding my head
and seeping out through my pores
causing steam to rise from my skin
goosebumps chase behind as i imagine
your fingertips grazing my arm, my neck
Quentin Briscoe Nov 2011
Jumps start the gun..today on the run.. but thats just my mind...body laggin behind..But im feelin entergetic so Im Just freestyling lines...leaned against the pines...Running these powderd lines...parked in a fire lane collecting fines..Exhilarated heart beats turn into mental treats...as for my body it just starts to feel weak...points of mind blowing utopia..erupt body pausing phobias...and when this brain begins to die down and stop...well the body compulses, foams, and rocks
Eric Clark Sep 2011
Guida & Me drove up to the ***** D
In my whip there was co-pilot Bryx and Captain Sleezy E
We rolled up to my yerp bro Brad D's
Next were greeted by Dino whos drinking a 40
Labatt Blue bonging and ponging like were competing for beer drinking glory
Then its onto asweome fries, saganaki, and telling funny stories
That night was crazy and a definite blast
Woke up the next day to see Dino's Dad's spot and gasp!
Walk into the kitchen to see Grandma Rontondo cooking homemade marinara
Smelling fresher than the lobby inside of a Panera
Next it's downstaris to the "Thunderdome," mindblow is all I can tell ya!
The food was amazing with Uncle D on the grill
Sammy the Bull said "Plastic Cups!" so that was the deal
Party was wild, popping bottles in other words unreal
Zoo was great, conductor swag was for real
Tigers beat the Twins, and that night it was freestyling, speeches, and Labatts on chill
Like the words of Willie Nelson the ***** D stays on my mind
I'll never forget that trip like my brain is a VCR and has the element of rewind!
This is a poem about visiting my friend Dino in Detroit. I never been and had an epic time. It's more of a personal poem but one that I think tells a story about an amazing weekend!
Micah G Nov 2018
I carry the weight of my sin
I feel no worth within
ME
Is all I see at times
Self-righteousness make me blind
It’s hard to see
Anything but
RED
With all this anger in me
Just leave me be
Or I’ll snap and you may be
Excessively
HURT
I’ve done it before
And I’ll do it again
I’ll leave not only your heart but your body sore
I’m sorry bro
Freestyled in 1 min 24 sec. what do you guys think?
Claire Waters Nov 2013
finally started the novel he told me to write 3 years ago that i never wrote because i was too busy being depressed and wasting my potential over him which he would’ve never wanted. for maza, for you, sincerely liv tyler and lacey chabert’s love child

*pre:

right now, we’re floating in space, and i can’t think of anything. no that’s a lie, i conjugate things in negative too much. we’re floating in space, and i can think of everything, our bodies are pulling us like taffy in a loop-de-loop like kansas tornadoes and like cotton candy makers and wheels spinning across invisible pavement.

but i wonder if it is pavement? eventually there must be pavement. that makes sense, right? when you’re falling, eventually, you’ll hit the ground, right? that’s life. that’s reality. i say these things to you so much. and you look at me with that face. you don’t have to say anything. your slightly open mouth is reality. your lip biting is reality. your hands, so i hold on to them and pretend we’re padlocked together and nothing could ever break our hands from one another because you’re all i know right now. you’re all that’s real. i’m so scared of what reality will be when you’re not here. what is any of this, without your hands?

and now, we’re just freestyling in nothing, an out of control merry-go-round accident machine malfunction explosion fwoosh. i’m dead and i’m still waiting to gag on cold metal splitting bone. reality. reality, right? suddenly the hard seering pain seems so appealing. i turn my head to look at you and it feels slow motion executed too quickly, snapped neck swung sideways like a dog desperately shaking off it’s fleas, i know your eyes are on the other side of this so i keep pushing for seconds and hours to turn against gravity and look at you.

except your hands, i don’t know where they went. i thought they were there a minute ago, in mine. i saw them. i swear, they were warm like beds. i lay my palms in them and you held on so tightly that i’m sure you weren’t part of the decision making process in this ‘letting go’ thing. letting go, did you let go? did you free your hands from me? did i hold on too tight? was our velocity not enough? my weight was so feeble i couldn’t manage to hold you down from being ****** into the void?

my brain is still trying to put the calculations together. when did you let go? where did you go? i try to imagine you spinning besides me still but everything is empty. we have no momentum. the darkness is arid, quiet. i feel like a shell. i wish there was a shore for me to break against. i want to call your name but i know it’ll be crushed out of my mouth if i try to speak, so i clamp my teeth together and grab my body, and spin, spin, spin. alone. i can’t cry. the tears would creep into my eyelashes and float into the sky. is there any sky? is there anything at all?

i keep denying. i argue with the world, stiff bodied and silent. everything seems like so much for one person to take on. i’m not good at remembering i am being, i am a being. as in i am being right here, right now. everything. nothing. where did your hands go? reality: the wind whapping the screen windows, hissing in the drain pipe. reality. cold, i say. too cold, my body says. cold like a brain freeze. no, it’s not too cold, i insist again. it’s crackly and comes in bursts of shivering down your spine. that’s what it is. yes. just a slight shivering. no, my mind says, chilling. and i tell myself, it would be the wrong thing to do, to embrace that darkness, right? right? and no one will answer me.

i try to scream and my lungs are filled with the yawning roiling nothing, like salt water washing into my mouth. i choke on the feeling and remember telling you that story about sounding like a strangled chicken when i try to roll my r’s in spanish class. you laugh somewhere and i scream again. it feels good, choking. choking yourself to…nothing. there’s so much everything pent up in that sound forcing itself out of my windpipes. and the earth does not rumble beneath; the silence says you belong to me. humming it over and over, pulling. you belong to nothing. you belong with nothing you belong as nothing. i can’t fathom this kind of anti-gravity. i thought we had everything. was i wrong? i don’t feel like everything, right now. i don’t feel anything.

so, i ask the darkness, this is it? the echo is swallowed. i can’t even hear my own voice. is this it? is this everything? i clamp onto my upper arms, squeezing the muscles tense. keep spinning. keep spinning. don’t speak or it will swallow you. keep spinning. there is no meaning. i don’t know why you let go. does it matter now? spinning. real. what is that? spinning.
new chapters will come, i'm working on it. this writing is a pure investment of untapped emotions, and that's all i want it to be for now, so i'm not going to pressure myself to go chapter by chapter, i'll just write it and hopefully you'll enjoy haha.
Mark Toney Oct 2019
As she walked down the aisle I was smiling
My blushing young bride was beguiling
After kissing, do tell
I re-lowered the veil
My excuse was "our wedding's freestyling."
7/14/2018 - Poetry form: Limerick - That's exactly what I did at our wedding.  After kissing my beautiful, blushing bride I re-lowered the veil. The immediate explosion of laughter left me blushing. Yes, I was smart enough to lift it before the recessional :) - Copyright © Mark Toney | Year Posted 2018
Pea  Jul 2014
Freestyling Caging
Pea Jul 2014
You will never be free
from me

You will live forever
in me

You will be dead but
I will maintain your corpse
so well, with super great care
while waiting for Isa to
come back --

Well, the truth is
you have died
(too many times)
but you resurrect
again and again and
I don't mind you
tearing off the butterflies' wings
because they still can
walk
and tickle this fatty stomach

Whatever it is!
Even when you find hate in whatever
Do not worry, for you are Jesus
The Savior
You are God

You are Jesus!
You are God!

The Unnamed Woman's perfume
still lingers on your feet
and
I believe in you

I believe in you

"... Blessed are those who believe
without seeing me.
" (John 20:29)


even when I see contradictions
and injustices
even when you, when I, be
the contradictions and
the injustices --

You will never be free
from me
You will live forever
in me
AW  Aug 2018
30 seconds - 1
AW Aug 2018
The sun is shining, we poets are rhyming.
Others might be out to bathe, but we fill our sheets with creative parts.
This is a thirty second writing, as I am freestyling the way I am diving.
Had an Idea of 'freestyle writing' within 30 seconds, that's the result.
Ann Witt Aug 2014
I'm freestyling with my words,
remembering daydreams, sounds I've heard.

Hope rises from deep inside my soul
enabling me to release the stories I hold.

There beyond my wildest imagination
I can see it's possible to meet my expectation.

Notes are playing, power is flowing.
All around me the darkness is glowing.

Stardust is falling from above
gift wrapping me in a sea of  love.

What an awesome sight to behold
watching my expressions formulate in gold.

— The End —