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If I had a blog what would it be ?

Would I blog about twitting?
Tweet about texting?
Text about bloging?

Will I sip on an organic double frappuccino?
Will I miss MJ?
Will I have a tea cup Chihuahua?
Will I hate the hills?
Will I be dealing with   bulimia?
Watching TMZ?
Liveing green?
Will my iPhone my big sunglasses be in my   louis vuitton handbag?
Will all this be something to talk about?
Will it still be "in"?
Or will outher things that I hate take it's place?

Will my blog be overrated?
Or will only old ppl like it?

Or will it be, anti-social anti-fashion
I hate everything even myself
self mutalating artsie fartsie
wannabe rabel who are also AS over rated

whatever...

((If I wred this blog, I'd hate it))
I wrot this 2008, never thoght I'd post it anywhere
We read “Captain Hook’s collection of psalms,
And other songs to sing along to.”
Nothing better to do off hand,
But revel in our own arrogance.
And, we notched holes in leather straps,
To expand at the waste.
Drive through diets replacing lessons-
Of keeping elbows off the table.
Of speaking only when spoken to.

Twenty-one years plus a little change.
And, daddy says-
Everything I taught you is replaceable.
And, daddy says-
Mistake is a just a word.
Hasn’t got it figured out either,
At least he admits it,
Choking down another cigarette,
Says: here’s to now.
And, don’t break your back if you don’t have to.

Technology affords avenues
Different rivers to float experience
Overalls and baseball caps
And the tree house that broke my tibia.
Talked through tin cans in this age,
Of golden innocence.
Now I’m Facebooking and twitting or twittering
Or… who the **** cares?
No one I care about.
Rivers given way to raw sewage.
And, even dogs eat their own ****.

This cat called my computer a ******* box-
If the shoe fits,
Clichés get the hits.
Search: Blonde **** *******-
5 million 38 hundred and 2 results.
Neon Bibles erupt in the sky.
Today I am a believer in the quarter pounder with cheese
Tomorrow in gasoline for 2.85
Midas made gold
Now he wants to change my oil.
They call that economics
Or advertising.
And, suddenly my sneakers aren’t good enough

Voice on the other end reassures-
My ideas are manic.
Paint a scene of terror.
Laying waste to iron giants-
Tearing down systems in place to restrict
Setting fire to everything-
Rack it up to fulfilling.
Rack it up to rebuilding.
Dismal haze, red glow to ash filled sky,
That makes mom clutch the good book-
Saying its time to go home.
How she knows her redeemer lives.
Clarity reigns supreme
And, daddy says-
Son, you’ve been watching too much TV.
And daddy says-
You catch more with honey by rule.
Raphael Uzor Jun 2014
There was a time when
all times looked the same
passing through seamless
dawn of ageless drain
We sought, fought and
bought our freedom for an ageless price
At a pace that dares not to take away our
endangered race
But what have brought
this craze of dismembering
the maze we felt less safe in.

The incorruptible men who
once calmed the storm
are now cohorts of a demeaning plot.
Their role in a war of stakes
is a gusty grab for the frontline
as they tussle for the ratio of cake
a game they so delight in.
Exhausted in a place which
was once a timeless haven
as their dignity is torn in shreds.
All sorts of glory are lost
still no one feels this is a shared shame.

If only we knew the journey would abort halfway
but the signs were like flare from the start
as sides became drawn in clear spat.
Two hundred and more of our “prized cowries”
got snatched from our land and our leaders
cannot guard our streets because they say
the times are bad and the enemies are back.
Everything get soured and some of us are left behind
as limbs are severed high into the firmament of red horror
We go hash with our tag
twitting and chanting that they restore our girls
bring back our girls-we pray
bring back our girls- we chant
Bemused, the soldiers assure to search our lands
While Boko bomb us out from our very own sands
Tangled, mangled, limbs and bodies get buried in our time.


© Chijioke Izundu P
This is not my work.
Today I didn’t see those ever-so-close couple.
In the lonely forenoons
When you could hear the leaves fall
They were there
Like two devoted doves
Whispering in each other’s ears
The wonderful nonsense
Only lovers can indulge in.
Then they laughed like rustling leaves
Drowned in their own twitting
Without caring a fig for my presence.
But today was the day
When wrapped in my own aloofness
Walking alone in the rain
I sought those two.
Like the empty bench
I missed those tweeting two
Warming up a desolate space,
Scared they’re lost in life’s aridness.
I still remember,
We were working out on our chemistry
On our physics class
I still remember,
You were singing; syncing along with me
On our music class
I still remember,
We were chitchatting; twitting louder than the birds
On the tree
I still remember,
We were grabbing our hearts together with us
Almost everyday
I still remember,
We were late going to class after our date
On every Friday
I still remember,
Nights with the moonlight with you
On your lap
I still remember,
Every fights with you while flying high like
A kite with you
Lastly I also still remember,
Your goodbye reason said and paid for my love
Because I remember my expenses on you?
I still remember...
anastasiad May 2016
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CNC Laser Cutting Machine
Sydney hines Apr 2015
I sit with a crackling fireplace
Hit chocolate in y hand trying to forget the
Animals who can't seem to escape the harsh snow.
I sit twitting my thumbs with nothing to do
But fall into a deep trance about the beauty of summer.
I could feel the summer sun glistening on my
Sun kissed skin, sending giddy shivers down my back.
The saltiness of the ocean dancing in my mouth
Make me crave the water on my skin even more.
As I walk up the beach the sand squishing
Through each toe every step I take.
The presence of freckles scattered unevenly across my face.
My hair as blonde as gold flowing in the swift wind.
As I sip a drink made from strawberries,
The birds overhead shirt in absolute unison.
But then, I look out the window and see the snowflakes falling,
And my wishes for summer calling.
Odonko-ba  Aug 2016
Shadow
Odonko-ba Aug 2016
death
follows me closely
while life
retreats into shadows
shunning
gnarled fingers
of winters hand

my heart
palpitates a lonesome song
a ponderance of youth
yearning days of old

where children play
in  bright summer fields
and laughter
is caught
in the bubbles they blew
lifted
with the wind
bursting of sunshine giggles
covering the land in smiles
as the scent of moms apple pie
sent children scurrying home...

i feel death's chill
twitting my memories
mockingly reminding...
that my home
is with him now

as my eyes
fell silent
and my heart
cease to beat
into
    the
         shadow
                   i
              descend
PJ Poesy Apr 2016
Flit To Me, My Pretty
or Dance Of Kinglet

Sing, “tay-tay-tay,” all the day
carry on in morning sun
bouncing on sandy stream banks
Kinglet friend of mine
Your yellow crown, breast of cotton down
O be lost daydreams so fine

This is what twitting really is
Euphoria found in flash
discerning your small “tay”-ing song
milkweed fluff you find
act as if you are stealing, no crime here
milkweed glad; spread seed as kind

Wash yourself amidst these puddles
preen yourself for mating
You’ve made a nest for nothing other
how sweet your callers come
rock a vantage point of eternity
from here we see all succumb

This rock and I
jeffrey robin Nov 2015
.



Politcs

is the

LEGITIMAZATION

Of

VIOLENCE

••


Political Science

is the study of how that

LEGITIMAZATION

occurs

And to what

Purpose

The VIOLENCE

is used

•••••

So here we are !

Pretending some form of

POLITICAL ADVENTURE IN DEMOCRACY

is taking place !!


//


We are totally uninformed

As to the true nature

Of the events transpiring

Around us !!

We are

USELESS
POWERLESS

NARROW MINDED

little twits !

We are mere playthings of those who manipulate

The forces that ultimately control us completely !!

>< >< ><

Yet

LOOK AT THE  ******* MONSTROCITIES

OF HUMAN EXPRESSION

WE

SO - CALLED


" POETS "


( in our SELF - AGRANDIZING stupor )

Produce

( especially the pathetic ****

That makes it

The DAILY )

really are!!

///

As if our

Deep !

Sincere !

Magically transforming !

so so sensitive !

words

Are even remotely

Relevant and real !!!!

//

Useless twits uselessly twitting

//

Just cause you got your pants down

And got someone's genitals inside you

Somewhere

Don't mean you are

Naked !

Raw with emotion !

Facing truth !


//

(Yeah

Even dogs ****

But at least they have some dignity ! )

••

VIOLENCE !!

Violence !

VIOLENCE !

//

( being LEGITIMATIZED ! )

//

Useless twits !

//

How can you love a useless twit !

( you can't )

2 useless twits ******* is not love

The description

Of a useless twit *******

Another useless twit

Is not a

Love poem !

( no matter how you try
To
SPIN

the ultimate failures

Of your lives ! )

••

Super shape - shifting words !

( no no !

Just useless twits ******* !



******* UGLY




.
Hamed M Dehongi May 2019
She didn't do anything wrong
Her love for him was so strong
They used to listen to folk song
Many happy memories for a long
She thought this she could prolong
That they can be happy for a lifelong

She was wrong!

Once in a sudden, she caught him cheating
With who, do you think he was meeting?
She found out this when he was twitting
Her best friend for a long he was meeting
Not only for once but always repeating
She hadn't done anything to deserve cheating

Except being trusting!
13:20 - Wednesday, May 29, 2019
van Young Oct 2018
Does the moon mourn
After the current day dawns
Exposing the deepness of a blue soaring sky
Causing quasi questions in the form of the wayward why

Why such a mysterious bulbous blue
Why such a deep hallowing hue
Does the moon mourn
When the sun starts to spawn

Some Thursday morning eyeing a ready race
The mirror shows the usual and customary feckless face
A mindless ritual often fills the busy area around the table top
Between texting nothing and following other conspicuous consumption reaching a full stable stop

And how does this apply to the magic moon
Which is not cheese so no need a stupendous sized spoon
Some of us wonder re alimentary alienation
While sitting and twitting about the companion moon’s satellite station

Does the moon mourn
As stars start to fawn
Matching a moment of a somnambulistic state
Allowing its’ gravity to push and pull the flow of water from a timeless surreal place in space

Does the moon mourn
As each new day dawns

— The End —