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Pradeep  Oct 2018
Random rant
Pradeep Oct 2018
Here I was, reading and
writing poems on HP,
glad I hit a personal
high in frequency,
if not classic poetry.

Some months passed,
and my interest in it,
being afflicted with
Poetry Enthusiasm Deficit.

Was it work, ***** Netflix
intake with less water,
or i let 'busy' hijack my
life while poetry
passed me by?

The doctor told me,
'take it easy,
one word at a time,
or you'll feel queasy,
PED can happen any season,
not the Netflix kind,
the autumn-spring type,
I know how you feel'.

I glanced at his notepad
just as he covered it,
scribbles with lines
ending with rhymes,
crocin and aspirin,
words of chemical mystery,
compositions poetic
and bitter tonic
converging like two streams,
reminding me of modern art
since I could decipher
little from the sheet o' paper,
too surprised to pretend
to comprehend.

'I am recovering, I will form
a support group,
give a PED talk even,
'Just let it out' '.

I did. I realised PED's
a good reason
to mask a rant as a poem.
Don't you blame me, I
more than hinted in the title.
Eryck Aug 2018
If I could
I  would 
But I can't
So I  won't
--Be the carpenter to the building up of your ego.
--Shower you with confident praise, umbrella you from dissident things.
--Figure out the high and low moods of an adrenaline *****.
--Nod in agreement, like a court jester, to the latest exploits of a drama queen.
 Its a constant chore I abhor just to get you up and moving out the door.
Push you out the nest to fly,
throw you in the water to sink or swim, to try.
It's what we do when children are all grown,
NOT what we do for girlfriends who are afraid to leave home or be alone.

It's  not a keeping score point system where I'm giving more than I'm getting. Its more of a witnessing to the feeling of the allowing and the letting.

If I could
I would
But I can't
So I  won't
-- pave a yellow brick road through your misgivings.
--Smooth off the edges of your indecisions.
--Give you the cowardly  lions courage he got from Oz.
--Lie to boss Hog that your sick in bed.
-- Tweezer out the splinters of your perceived injustices.

If I  could
I would
But I can't
so I wont
Cottle you, bottle you, can't promise you or promote you. Must remove you and remote you, no longer develop you or devote you. Your on your own.

And in the end, dispite what I  do and the might that I  do it with... the final road is one we walk alone.
  I have to let you go now.
Even her jealousy got the best of her as she got onto my Hello Poetry account and deleted almost all of my notifications which are also connected to the wonderful comments people have posted at the end of my poems. She said I was flirting. I finally told her,  I have to let you go now.
right now
sacrifice is fueling opportunity
an opportunity to breathe
with an uninterrupted purpose
the corruption of our native soul
stop nourishing it
by constructing whiteness
sacrificing ethnicity
for the temporal indulgence
adrenaline *****
intensity of dissociation
hallucinating whiteness
the worst drug ever manufactured
forced upon our children
intricate delicate
vulnerable violence
dissociating from an eternity
of survival of the most cooperative
for a moment
momentum of ******
Johnny Noiπ Jan 26
Struggling against his Inner
Self;         he finally comes out
at 30, telling anyone willing
to listen his weird tales & odd
sayings,   making others think
he was only attracted to his
own kind;            until finally,
declaring he & his father one,
he as publicly mocked &
crucified;       his friends
turn their backs on him, people
make up stories about the
fabulous things he did, his only
real message to love one other;
Pilate, a sexist-homophobe
hailed to the crowd: 'Shall I
release the ****** son of a ******!
A good Jew who tends to the sick?
Or Barabbas?              Serial ******,
murdering thief, *****, dealer, liar,
& general ****?'
'Give us Barabbas!'   they cry as
if welcoming a conquering hero,
and Barabbas is released among
them like a wolf among sheep...
Crucify!' They cry ever louder:
'Crucify the ****** Carpenter!
Let him build his own cross!!!'
Heeding the crowd, Pilate
has him pilloried on a cross
fashioned by 'Joseph & Son inc.'        
The event going so well,      
soon Joseph's shop has a run
on crosses...
Crown Shyness Jan 15
Am I a *****
not even trying to be funny

or am I secretly a laugh
for trying so hard

to be.

Chrystalized honey in a bottle,
the cap is stuck on its neck
for feeling so cold

holding the glass close
to reach the sun,
locked away.

A nobody sailing on his own juice
grabbing onto the blues
of diving in hisself.

A knocking,
a knocking,
waves over waves
of unknown storms

who is this goddess
with eyes
******* out all the pain,
sticking a spoon into hardened sugar?

Such warmth in a dark place
on an artistic tongue.
Such relief while bathing in stomach acid,
consumed by not less as myself.
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