Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Feb 2012 Shanekwa
K Balachandran
"let's get out of
this illusion"
she points out with a smile,
"is your favorite line"
i wanted to tell her
that's the opening line
of the novel i intend to write
in the near future.
but i didn't.

in this museum of man
we think we are just visitors
but live our lives all the while,

let me confess, i am confused,

i am misled by light effects,
cyclorama, well presented,
and sign boards deliberately
showing wrong directions.

one is continuously conditioned,
only to  blindly follow the  instructions.

gullibility is disastrous
that's the novel i plan is  all about.
don't take in the ideas someone create
for your consumption.
script your story in your own words.

at times
i have this feeling getting strong:
the original of me
is misplaced somewhere

in this very museum.
i keep on searching
to find,
though not confident enough
to ask any one.

who could answer
this ultimate mystery of life?
 Feb 2012 Shanekwa
Sam Schedler
One of the worst things in life
is realizing that you haven't applied deodorant
in the past 24 hours.

One of the best things in life
is realizing that your deodorant fights odor
FOR 48 HOURS.
 Nov 2011 Shanekwa
Dante
You should all be running
There clocks are singing
There cracks are screaming
The horizon one hundred yards away, So
you should be running
Firing your energies, feel the cannon fodder, straight from the Howl
Down past the credence
Up & over indulgence
In the bright earnest face we all so fear
My mother's eyes show me
My father's will teaches
Because his words go
Up, down and up and down and straight & die
& through and ground
Reaching time reach the audience
Reach out for bleachers where watch
tictoc right American preachers
1,2,3,4,1,2,3,4
Me junction, the merger, our mental *******
Me ******, me scared
Me changing like canon fire
Right! To the ocean, deep deep depths
To think think future
TicTicTicTicTicTicTic
a clock there is singing
Showtunes for theme songs, church bells
Notify
Defcon 12 falling tanks off me shelf
See the mad red carnation
Shot at the pieces in eclipse of today
I keep going when I still have nothing to say
The drapery dying the godbirds still flying
I will never know what comes next
But I've got influence
& I'll need congruence
To empty a vault full of universal need
I want to be running
I'd wish you were running
The stitches, the fabric, sewn loving care
Like the landscaping, keep you warm
I've stolen from homeless
I've stolen from men
I break all the precepts
My breathing's from them
I steal all their oxygen
Whenever I breath Me harmony
Me stretching Me arm reach no peace
I see the world over
the oceans are strange
There's volcanic lightening
& men in white coats
I don't eat, I don’t sleep
I walk for them, should running
out there should running
We feel for the riches
We feel for the dying
Cancerous limp-ation, now windmill's orchestration
Shoes stuck in mud with laces together
Women see lightening when held through the weather
The war, land the peace is
The dynamic tension
The balance in pieces
With eyes up to heaven
Who cares if we're dying
We're all one
One what
I accuse you of calling the charlatan, ****
One bread piece obtuse cause
the sandwich is dying
Do you think that's normal?
Do you think that's abstract?
Boys crying because their teachers have fears
From the past make it last
What is wrong with your peers
Hold together mold together
Find out what's next
Feeling perplexed
Run run run you silly little girls
There's no sense in hiding the rest of the world
We've got one thing in common
And one thing is this
We've all got timing for HIGHER CONSCIOUSNESS
Hold together, mold together
Cry together scream
the bonding is no place
for a welcome machine
Then
What do we do
What do we do
What do we do
What do we do?
End swimming, out running
Over fencing, out running, Break walling, out running
Down clouding, out running
Fall like jumpers, run like dying
Out through planetary & temporary adrenal-line
Sleep when men in white coats
Them start walking
They march, they country
They apple of eden & run when the men
in white coats, they lay sleepin
The world is a mountain
the people they range
Look at these weirdos, make them say change
Educate the many use mindscreen no strife
The point of the riddle
Eternal solvation
We are confused with the mental *******
I'm ******* I'm sorry I'm scared
There's isolation in landscape
Something sounds like prepared
Listen to wordplay
try to find the right light
there's air in the landscape...
Cool to the touch
(a few beats)
1,2,3,4
Say ******* with metaphor
(a few beats)
I've got words, I've got wisdom
I watch movies
There's motion, just grab it
Keep going
You should be running
You should all be running
The world is going to start at any second
You should be running
 Nov 2011 Shanekwa
John Mahoney
no one quite remembers
how this came to be
 Nov 2011 Shanekwa
Allison Ashton
A garden I planted one day,
full of flowers in colors arrayed.
But, as the hours went by
I wondered when these
would rise?

Impatient, I dug them up
and said,
"why have you not grown?"

Then, I planted again
patience was not in my hand.
The hours went by and
I began to sigh
when these would rise.

Impatient, I dug them up
and said, "when, when, when
do your begin?"

But, what I failed to see
in the deep darkness
of the earth, God's quiet working
would soon give birth.

And I held my hands
folding them in His plan.
His timing not mine,
His will, not mine.

Allison Ashton©
Worries for sale:
free delivery.
Happy to sell
to anyone.
Let's start the bidding,
at a sigh of relief...
This poem was spawned from HP's "adopt a metaphor" feature; the metaphor that I gave a home to was "sold worry".
Next page