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Just like Eminem,
I'm not afraid to take a stand
If that is what it would take to make you
That this adulation spawns me to be
I was impatient to wait for the time,so I
purchased a new watch our time has come
Been in many debauched rapports
All resulted a faux pas because I invested less
Not rueful, but from this juncture I prospect
to be more perfect
I'm not afraid
To take a stand
If that is what it would take to make you
I was improvident but I'm devising to be
I was impatient but I'm outlining to be patient
I am stubborn but I'm willing to be adamant
You said I'm indelicate I'm willing to be decent
I'm not afraid
To take a stand
If that is what it would take to make you
That I'm for you and only you
I'm executed from dishonesty, I take an oath
to be true
I'm not afraid
To take a stand
Even if that is what will make you understand
That I love you and only you...
mark john junor May 2013
The light is racing from our room,
seeping through the cracks under the door.
The darkness grows,
casting us into shadow.
but all things including light die in the end
utterances in the small places of my dark mind
lend themselfs to such times
i would not suffer to pass
the hour without bringing forth all the angers
and mettlesome ways that confound you
the smokes rakes against my mind,
hiding me behind my eyes.
The truth came calling
along with the clock's toll,
but who among us could answer such an ominous cry?
When the hours between midnight
and 4 am are so unforgiving.
i am filled with tears
until i can bear no more
your words kiss my mind
and i cannot return this tenderness
for it would turn to love
i am waiting these hours
in the desolate towers of cold
for the rescue of dawn
but it gives little comfort
were that i could reach out to you
but i dare not
i dare not*

Edit et al:           Collaboration Poem written by alyssainwonderland ( and I (Mark John Junor); alyssainwonderland contributions are in italics
edit: formatting error reverted italic text.....see for corrected version
Sag  Aug 2016
Sag Aug 2016
Somethings different in my head, somewhere along the road of growing up, something changed. I'm not sure when and I definitely don't know exactly what it was that switched and sent me into this intense spiraling, the strangest sensation in my cranium.
you know how when something is spinning so quickly it appears to be standing still?
it's not thoughts.
I wish I could still concentrate on or articulate those things.
Sometimes my head feels like a hive, thousands of swarming bees buzzing, worried only about their honey, when something comes along and shoves a fist inside, grabs a handful, and leaves the bees in a vehement and mettlesome rage. Exasperated and feeling defeated, but determined to please their queen, they never stop.
It never stops.
It never stops.

It grinds it's teeth. It yells "listen to me, do what I say," it yells.
It hardly ever sleeps, and when it does it only dreams of hands reaching - grabbing, jutting out from very direction,
desperately hoping to find something to hold on to.
haint gonna mock ridiculous science
     asper to be bled
dark practices to leech out mailer daemons,
     not so laughable nor in cred

double, when oppressed diabolical  dread
oompah loompah fealty l'chaim fled
as hand grenades explode within my head
mettlesome monsters

     make mercuric chrome dome feel like a led
zeppelin with fractured stairway to heaven in stead...
delivers me zombies, where angels fear to tread  
cuz, the devil and psyche did wed

shotgun Swedish crow did house mafia style
wrenched, wrested wretched
     mental state most intense (no croc) dial
shattered, slewed, splintered sanity,
     thus practitioner with "FAKE" know how aisle

apprentice Aunt Roadie,
     who will skewer me evil spirits den da deuce
till I beak home one sacrificed overly cooked goose
a burnt offering shish kabob

     no longer able to raise cane on the loose
like a red bull
     rocky on the shoals of a frantically angry moose
livid with rage
     (akin to diary of mad a housewife)
   entropy written, where death will be only truce

pyromaniac qua ramshackle shanty (tinderbox)
     unleashes wicked zeal
hellacious incendiary juiced ride
     up plies noisome rubbery odor,

     sans hot wheel
along the outer limits of functionality explosions
     precipitate like drops of molten steel
routing hunger, searing nostrils,
     tearing tenuous fragile tethered tendrils

     self cannibalizing via tooth and nine inch nail      
     linkedin with nauseousness as thine meal
exemplary asper full blown panic attack
     lodged within mine genetic blooper print deal.
To compensate for (A -Z)
     ineradicable alphanumeric
     character flaws (i.e. mutations
     of body or mind,)

     and avoid amass
sing wracking up vexatiously
     undesirable threatening class
action lawsuit against

     Matthew Scott Harris,
     which preliminary measure
     taken to avoid disembarrass
sing said individual as

     a majorly flawed individual
literal shortcomings of body,
     mind and spirit,
     the metier of writing doth encompass

a creative realm to trump
     geomorphology, sans groundmass
at the unsolicited expense
     (mine alter ego i.e. worst critic)

     will gleefully find,
     and expose grammatical,
     misspelling, spelling,
     et cetera errors to harass

glommed together with isinglass
hop, skip and jumping
     to appear as a *******
whereat no respect

     able collegiate lass
would give a fig about me,
     one totally tubular royal morass,
which expert anthropologists

     stumped asper nonclass
     if eye able ****
     sapiens mutant ninja turtle
case in point being his

     wanting in height not e'en pass
     sing the six foot mark
     plus mental illness
     perhaps traceable to

     besotted cognitive damage
     inherited predecessors
     quaffing an overdose of quass
made obvious peering at resulting

     Ct scan results viewed
     via microscopic spyglass
revealing abnormal amygdala
automatically designating
     his aptitude underclass
among average human
     with mettlesome Zeusian brass.
Nationwide Insurance twas on my side yay
cuz, earlier this July forth
     two thousand eighteen ja way
windows closed, doors locked, and

     car keys visibly splayed
     on driver seat oye vay
feel free to call me a horse's *** today
utter anxiety compounded,

     plus unable to locate master key,
     thence fodder for poem and more to say
rifling thru boxes without success,
     an impulse arose to call road

     upon learning policy
     doth include locksmith service,
     ah felt less doggone snappish,
     and uttered hoo ray

though modest aye,
     congratulated awesome,
     fulsome, and handsome
     self on quick thinking,

and automatically became less tiresome
     pondering for no particular rhyme nor reason
     (as a getaway) Panama or Paraguay
then immediate decided,

     sans ditto explanation,
     but no how and nay
yet honest to dog suddenly felt
     like a young lovestruck lad

     during month of May
and without further delay
a compulsion arose
to putter along, though

     momentarily gazing heavenward
     and counting (just beak caws)
     glistening black crows
plus painfully aware

     a spike in recurrent
     "senior" moment of forgetfulness grows,
thus starkly aware significant rustiness
     increasingly, frightfully,

     and chokingly coats
     lix spit tillage harrows
resuming schlepping dishabille
     crotchety bedeviled aching

     body electric irksome
with fringe benefit (such as
     momentary lapse of reason)
     quite aware mettlesome

ness of youth nonrefundable,
     non-reliable, and non-retrievable,
     and guaranteed continued
     pricking, viz nettlesome

degenerating aging telomeres,
     sensate perspicuity, and oxysomes
leaving a once robust person some
what discombobulated
     and easily toilsome.
Traveler Apr 6
Don't hold out for recess
The daunting pressure builds
Pick up your mettlesome
Impose your loving will!

The target is your nature
Imprinted in your code
An epigenetic explanation
Is about to unfold

So get yourself together
You cyborg by default
Your appendages are contagious
Your inflammation is your fault

Still... we can do much better
Then waiting around to parish...
Traveler Tim
Jenish Feb 2020
Sun scatters splendid splendors in utter silence
Flowers shed their pure fragrance without any aim
Never once they never trumpet their excellence
Real wisdom, real merits acquires great fame

The moon maps her magic hue in silent midnight
Wind swept in melodious tone scenting surprise
Ever did they ever boost their mettlesome might?
Never fool can ever shine bruiting his own praise.
You leave your mother's home, to serve the bigger home- your motherland.
Raw, young and fiercely trained, you swim undaunted in strange waters.
The currents and inherent dangers do not deter you.
We salute your venturesome spirit and lion-heartedness.
You are courage personified.
What more to say O Courageous Man-at-arms !

Dangerous missions and risky operations beckon you.
You rush without any fear of injury or death.
To demolish the enemy and accomplish harmony.
We salute your unwavering dedication and mettlesome attitude.
You are valiance personified.
What more to say O Valiant Rifleman !

You safeguard our frontiers with your impenetrable gaze.
You suffer the deepest wounds and scars of battles.
You brave solitude, adversities, unpredictabilities and infinite toils.
We salute your unparalleled intrepidity and tenacity.
You are duty personified.
What more to say O Dutiful Cannoneer !

Your family profoundly prays for you while you are away.
Your children miss their daddy moments in their growing years .
But motherland is your first love being wedded to the olive green.
We salute your unrelenting devotion and absolute loyalty.
You are trust personified.
What more to say O Faithful Cavalier !

Coffin draped in tricolour, bugler playing 'The Last Post' is heart-wrenching.
Homecoming of a fallen warrior is so heartbreaking.
Countrymen stand by you, your stoic wife, bereaved parents and wailing children.
We salute you for your supreme sacrifice, soldiering and deeds of derring-do.
You are heroism personified.
What more to say O Honourable Infantryman !

You give your today for our tomorrow.
Forever you live up to the motto- valour and wisdom.
Your service before self is embodiment of love for motherland.
We salute you for upholding the highest moral and ethical values.
You are hope personified.
What more to say O Worthy Soldier !

(Composed by Preeti Pathak from India. Please do visit my blog
Julien Perkins  Mar 2018
Julien Perkins Mar 2018

Show Your True Colors.
  Be Superfluous. Be Audacious. Be Valiant.
Be Who You Really Are.
And Someday You, You Will Reach For The Stars.
For Those People Out There Who Think That They Are
By Walking Around Calling People Gay.
Before You Speak, Just Ask Yourself,
Is This Right Or Is This Wrong?
Show Your True Colors.
Whether You’re
                ­                      Lesbian
Or Whomever You Identify Yourself As.
Don’t Let Other People Dictate Who You Really Are.
                              Be Courageous. Be Intrepid. Be Mettlesome.
And Someday You Will Reach For The Stars.
For Those People Out There Who Shove People
Out Of The Way.
Before You Act, Just Ask Yourself,
Is This Who I Really Want To Be?
By The Time You’re 30,
Who Do You Really Want To Be?
A Neuro Surgeon, Or Sleeping On The Streets
It’s Time People Learn A Little

For Those People Out There,
Who Think That They’re
By Drinking Alcohol And Doing Drugs In High School,
Let This Be A Little Lesson To You,
When You’re All
All Along It Was You Who Was The Sap.
Show Your True Colors.
Be Venturesome. Be Dauntless. Be Doughty.
Be Who You Really Are
And Someday You Will Reach For The Stars.
For Those People Out There,
Who Live For The Drama.
Don’t Let Yourself Get Hurt By Those Twisted Little Lies.
Don’t Let Something So Small, Ruin Your Only High School Experience.
This Is Your Time To Meet New People.
And Make Life-Long Friends.
And For Those People Who Say,
“Man This Is Gay”
Oh, Did You Hear About The Kid Who Killed Himself,
Because He Got Bullied Every Day?
Bullying Isn’t Right, But I’ll Tell You What Isn’t Wrong
Sticking Up For People And Giving Them A Hug.
When Someone’s Having A Really Bad Day,
Give Them A Smile To Chase The Tears Away.
For Those People Out There Who Have *** At 14
Ask Yourself, Is This What I Want My Story To Be?
And For Those People Out There Who Say
“It’s Just ***”
Oh Did You Hear About The Guy Who Got A STD
And Died At 23?
Show Your True Colors.
Be Heroic. Be Bold. Be Resolute.
Be Who You Really Are.
Be Yourself.
Just Be.
And Some Day You Will Reach For The Stars…
Tis beyond the depth and scope
of this electronic post,
and author, what triggers deliverance
housing bounty full memory absorbance,
yet no matter how many

heat sinks plumb cognizance,
most ordinary happenstance
often dredge up old nettlesome
rusty mettlesome names
of teachers forbearance

nearly half century ago
recalled in a flash,
and helped birth this poetic instance
break open literary
piece de resistance,

yet I will make
no subsequent reference
albeit once, about Peterson Handwriting
non cursively typed poem
filled with nonsensical abundance

dashed off viz seat
of my squarepants
typed, via strong arm lance
meant tubby considered pure entertainment,
so...,this rhyme merely hints

at cerebral imbalance
as minor rave and rants,
culled from convenient
20/20 hindsight stance,
while this quiet as bobbing sponge

minutely straddled across
space time continuum expanse,
and (analogously, invisibly,
plus quixotically perched circumstance
amidst wide webbed worldly metaphysical,

intellectual, and existential kants),
yet unable to disguise me
porous (poor ***) student advance
barely getting promoted,
cuz sigh re: Seine ed lee

imaged myself prince charming
to frolic and prance,
and dreamt about being in France,
when teacher called on me,
I immediately (whistled like

a little teapot) appearance,
whereby steam issued
out chrome dome
(scanned hull – i.e. numb
skull) affixed on

short and stout genetic grants,
which noggin always
(automatically) looked askance,
while me got alphabetically seated
from grades three to six

(mrs wells, mister stout,
missus shaner, and
miss rinderle respectively)
with absolute zero exuberance
(at Henry Kline

Boyer Elementary School,
I just recalled aforementioned
randomly accessed memory by chance
casually rifling thru
memory bank, freelance
sing, while *******

away time performing,
"I gotta urinate dance,"
thus rendering painstaking years
perfecting penmanship style
(reference poem title)
executed with Liberace flamboyance,

whereat yours truly obsessively and
compulsively excelled at
duplicating signature compliance
plus crossing T's and
dotting I's with rapacious
perfectly ruled slants.

— The End —