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Kristina E  Jan 2015
Nonsence
Kristina E Jan 2015
Like a river I flow irrepressibly
but backwards
just to keep you near.
Wayne Pritchett Oct 2010
At times I sit
Back and relax
from the daily disappointment
of another failed attempt
to make a milli
out of 2 greenbacks
and a shiny penny
so money i lack
due to employers
not callin a brotha back
"dont worry Wayne"
"i dont care about that"
"im really feelin you"
"i got yo back"

her name was Elaine
beautiful black woman
skinned the finest brown
kept my head off the ground
facing up to the sky
with all the confidence
of a grown *** man
till the week my luck
ran out like
our well ran dry
i was victim of nonsence
moms got word that
i smashed in the backseat
snatched back the keys
havent seen ol' girl since

lookin up to ask
what more can happen
i recieve a call
that put me on my ***
my one thang from
around the way
was seen at the mall
hugged up wit women
i put the phone down
cause im mad as hell
turned to the liquor
tilted the bottle
maybe i can find
that hidden message
pour up the brown
so i can sip
till i cant tell
this *******
aint just in my mind

Courvoisier or Hennessy
Remy Martin too
when i find my
next one thang
the brown got my back
when im in the groove
kissing the lips
of that beautiful child
born of kings and queens
of kingdoms not crack
workin a 9 to 5
not depending on
the next coke move
relieving her stress
while breaking that back
blast off at 9
cause her love
might taste so divine
scratch me up
then we goin till 5
i know i wont
be that 60 second man
and let her down
cause the brown got my back
i figured out my problem
just gotta lay that
brown **** down
(c) Wayne Pritchett
Julia kRu Jan 2010
it's 10 a.m.
and i'm thinking apples and oats
i'm thinking apples and oatmeal
my attention gingerly floats
into my kitchen and into my meal

i sit and eat
a crunchable juicy
green apple
every bite is lucid
and every bite is ample
all the troubles melt on my tongue
all the trite things are out and gone

i cover the oat flakes
with boiling water
they widen and swell
each oat is a well
some butter for softnes
and then i feel my oats
and i know -
fussing is nonsence

(c)kRu, 25.04.04
RW Dennen Dec 2014
You can splice this WRITING this way, one must read slowly
in order to understand how splicing together stanzas can be read at READINGS involving a spliced stanza is another kind
of  art EXPRESSION on a person's face when reading this
think they are HIGH times will be had by all when reading
THIS will blow MINDS will absolutely shatter after reading
all of this way out NONSENCE can be fun don't you THINK no more, after all of this SPLICING
TheBrokenSoldier Nov 2014
Who the **** are you
to come in and take over
something you have no idea about.

Taking control of so many
so many mind that need molding
that need a teacher
not a ******* like you
you stupid liar.

I know more than you
yet you hold yourself so high
like we ******* respect you
and thank you for coming

but we were better off without you
better with no teacher
better without your hypocritical
better just roaming in out open mindedness

But no
you had to come and take over
take over my favorite part of the day,
ruining it,
causing the experience
to fester in my hatred for you
and my loathing of your existence.

Two more weeks.
thats what is left of you.
Two more weeks and we will finally be rid of you and
your nonsence
you piece of ******* ****
Darren  Oct 2014
Transit Alone
Darren Oct 2014
Romping with the wind caroused
Non-hearing inside this film
Metal cage rattle its shocks
As asphalt chips by rubber

Metal lights take gaseous orb
Eaten the fill of pitch
The filaments gyrate inside
Three trapped in transit gait


I hear voices, but not their sayings
Two heads cut by the shadows
And just so would they be one beast
If not for their storytelling
But I am another realm of one cell
One bunk divided to their floor
Where they dance plots of sweet nothings
And I try to shut my eyes


Vacant stare flesh out outside
Away from here in torture
Slipped through the crack of rubber tracks
Like pebbles breaking free

Black road to the black of night
A fabric soft subjective
Comfort by the passing orbs
To slowly dissipate


More non-consequential talk
Buzz like mud inside the gears
That bend and move myself around
But not the illusions created
Past marvels walk the way with me
And act their lives designed
By one whom sits inside a cage
So dark it seems inviting


Stretches patched by tidal waves
The gurgle of the brook
A peaceful key to slip away
Like amber shades in flight

What behind is not ingrained
To forward must we go
The destination set us loose
And me from what I know


Ignoring absorbed each other's ear
So speechless I forgotten
Accompanied to one and all
The things I so create
The calming beat on edge and tire
Sooth tears from pouring down
As better times repeat their flames
Orange with fleeting smiles


New shapes combine removed once
The time has blown the bars
To stone the rubber has its scars
But healing can commence

Breath by sun ensconced in glass
As vague as going path
My thoughts have metamorphosed
To setting of blurry nonsence
Originally written on October 19, 2014.  Eleventh poem for the Hundred Theme Challenge by The-Poetry-Cafe.  Daydreaming in the car can make one relive.
Challenge information: the-poetry-cafe.deviantart.com
Profile: monocephalized.deviantart.com
Theme: Memory
jeffrey robin Oct 2015
.


A poem

That does not describe

Some young girl

Trying to justify her

Meaningless    Mundane

Existence

By indulging in some

Fantastical description

Of an imaginary love

Is not not a real poem at all


But is merely an intellectual excercise

Using words

To describe some useless abstract concept

Such as

Beauty

Or Truth

Of Human Dignity

( or some such nonsence )

and these poems

Are hardly fit for reading



A poem that doesn't make you think

I WANT **** RIGHT NOW !

is certainly no HP poem


But is just a bunch a letters

Strung together

By some sexless buffoon



You aren't really a human being

Without endulging yourself

In drugs

***

& pain

)(

& I praise all you

Who have wasted your lives

In your excesses

And in your ability

To hurt yourselves

Unceasingly
or anybody can be a poet

                 from observation it occurs to me
anybody can be a    poet  
  all one has to do is write a paragraph
any paragraph
                                even    nonsence is  allowed    
break the sentences into unequal parts and stack them
on top of each other
  throw in a blank line or so

only use small letters
play fast and loose with the tab key
ignore any kind of rules
     like rhythm
   like meter
like structure {not needed]
only worry about ‘free’ expression as
  o p e n is well--------great
that is all anybody seems to want anyways
these days
oh me  a rhyme gasp
these efforts can be only marginal prose ok
            even the few that occasionally rise to eloquence
          r most definitely not poetry
        underneath the lazy tree
                                                            ­ oops
egad i made another rhyme, silly me
I'm done here.  Goodbye.
Stacy Mills May 2021
He got ****** she did shrooms the last time he dumped her.  That she took a road trip to see her son n how many stops she made on the way to see people who know how to be unconditional without involving *** n trivial nonsence... he was full of childish and dumb ****. He forses his imagination and pessimism to become reality by manifesting it in his actions until his self proclaimed predoomed assumption of failure becomes his self made truth. She doesn't understand why he chooses to live life in self pitty, jealousy, and rage. He doesn't see the diamond before  him for what she is worth; he just tosses her away as tho she was nothing more than a sand stone. She has no choice but to stand tall and move forward.  The walls around her heart get taller and thicker. She is done. She knows now that she is the only person she has in this world and no way in hell is she gunna give up on her. She is a godess with an immense heart n she's strong as they come. She's got this, she's got her, she doesn't need anyone else.

— The End —