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Apr 4 · 434
I Collect Words
sobroquet Apr 4
Like a miser I collect words
Some obscure, some rarely heard
A quest with no ending
Both illuminating and mind-bending
A search for the grail
Words that tear apart the veil
Trying to see more than eyes allow
Futilely attempting to define the Tao
For words are really only so useful
Even when they are the most  truthful
In the Court  of the Crimson King, King Crimson©

Knowledge is a deadly friend
When no one sets the rules.
The fate of all mankind I see
Is in the hands of fools.
Jan 20 · 78
Five Years of Sorrow
sobroquet Jan 20
These past five years I’ve been an insufferable  mess
lie after lie after  venal lie,  my nation in distress
too ashamed, angry + embarrased to look others in the eye, I must confess
this January 20th though, I feel quite blessed
though this trial has passed, so much to be done
reconciling America to her rightful place beneath  the Lord's  righteous sun
hopping mad, youngsters won’t get it, that  I understand
but our democracy + Republic came close to being ******
a profusion of demoniacs stole power
the 4th estate was assailed + almost chased her from her tower
but common decency prevailed like a magnificent flower
and a garden of hope has replaced the dour
marauding despots who hurt her
we won’t forget the damage done
for out of many, we are one
E pluribus unum
out of many, one (the motto of the US).

The 4th Estae
The real problem of  the  ”press as an enemy of the people”
(a ludicrous proposition)  isn’t because of the occasionally
fake or the outright  phoniness of yellow journalism,
its because many individual members of the press (and especially collectively) possess an eminently superior understanding of government protocol, strictures and procedures far beyond that of bureaucrats. An honest democracy cannot view the free press as a threat nor be opposed to its scrutiny. Indeed the free press is an intended purposeful vanguard. In as as much, they are heralds.
The press are in essence freedom fighters of the highest
constitutional order, (1st Amendment). Their tireless meticulous sifting of what is true and false is invaluable. The founders of the US Constitution anticipated that the freedom of the press (unfettered truth) would ultimately hold the feet of the craftiest despot to the proverbial fire of light. ©kwr

In every  nation there exists an intelligentsia but only in  despotic totalitarian nations are they  feared, oppressed and denied.
Jan 20 · 55
sobroquet Jan 20
As you hear thunder
you are safe from its  lightning
because  you have heard the past

When you look upon the stars
marveled  by their  spectacle
what is  present is  past

Thee is no way around this
there is a before and  an  after
then  and  there  and  now
Jan 20 · 42
sobroquet Jan 20
I have a small  office
It looks out onto a store
I saw a young couple
arguing in a roar

I watch concerned for her safety
not knowing them, I’ve seen the worst
he was crouched inside his car
she had him cornered and cowed

she reached into his window
to hand him some sort of paper
then he raised up the window
catching her small arm n the door

by the time he freed her
she was beset and beside herself
in frustration she tore the paper to bits
and threw it to the ground

after they departed I  ventured out
to see what could be found
perhaps to understand the commotion
maybe some logic behind the row

and there in the bits and pieces
I picked up the shapes of  ripped paper
a jigsaw puzzle of jagged sorrow
the torn image of a life-force
an  unwanted baby that will know no morrow
Based on a similar variation on a theme like Joni Mitchell's: Two Grey Rooms
Jan 20 · 40
Amanda's Light
sobroquet Jan 20
The Hill We Climb

When day comes, we ask ourselves, where can we find light in this never-ending shade?

The loss we carry, a sea we must wade. We've braved the belly of the beast. We've learned that quiet isn't always peace and the norms and notions of what just is isn't always justice.

And yet the dawn is ours before we knew it. Somehow we do it, somehow we've weathered and witnessed a nation that isn't broken but simply unfinished.

We, the successors of a country and a time where a skinny Black girl descended from slaves and raised by a single mother can dream of becoming president only to find herself reciting for one.
And yes, we are far from polished, far from pristine, but that doesn't mean we are striving to form a union that is perfect.

We are striving to forge our union with purpose, to compose a country committed to all cultures, colors, characters, and conditions of man.

And so we lift our gazes not to what stands between us but what stands before us. We close the divide because we know to put our future first we must first put our differences aside.

We lay down our arms so we can reach out our arms to one another. We seek harm to none and harmony for all.

Let the globe, if nothing else, say this is true: That even as we grieved, we grew. That even as we hurt, we hoped. That even as we tired, we tried.

That we'll forever be tied together, victorious. Not because we will never again know defeat, but because we will never again sow division.

Scripture tells us to envision that everyone shall sit under their own vine and fig tree and no one shall make them afraid.

If we're to live up to our own time, then victory won't lie in the blade but in all of the bridges we've made. That is the promise to Glade, the hill we climb, if only we dare. It's because being
American is more than a pride we inherit, it's the past we step into and how we repair it.

We've seen a force that would shatter our nation rather than share it, would destroy our country if it meant delaying democracy, and this effort very nearly succeeded. But while democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated.

In this truth, in this faith, we trust. For while we have our eyes on the future, history has its eyes on us.

This is the era of just redemption. We feared in its inception, we did not feel prepared to be the heirs of such a terrifying hour, but within it we found the power to author a new chapter, to offer hope and laughter to ourselves.

So while once we asked 'How could we possibly prevail over catastrophe?' now we assert: How could catastrophe possibly prevail over us?

We will not march back to what was but move to what shall be: a country that is bruised but whole, benevolent but bold, fierce, and free.

We will not be turned around or interrupted by intimidation because we know our inaction and inertia will be the inheritance of the next generation.

Our blunders become their burdens, but one thing is certain: If we merge mercy with might and might with right, then love becomes our legacy and change our children's birthright.

So let us leave behind a country better than the one we were left, with every breath of my bronze, pounded chest we will raise this wounded world into a wondrous one.

We will rise through the golden hills of the West. We will rise from the windswept Northeast, where our forefathers first realized revolution. We will rise from the lake-rimmed cities of the Midwestern states. We will rise from the sun-baked South. We will rebuild, reconcile, and recover.

In every known nook of our nation, in every corner called our country, our people, diverse and beautiful, will emerge battered and beautiful.

When day comes we step out of the shade of flame and unafraid. The new dawn blooms as we free it, for there was always light if only we're brave enough to see it, if only we're brave enough to be it.

Amanda Gorman speaking at President Joe Biden's inauguration.
Amanda Gorman performed her work "The Hill We Climb" after Joe Biden and Kamala Harris' swearing-in ceremony.
Gorman, 22, became the youngest inaugural poet in history.
"While democracy can be periodically delayed, it can never be permanently defeated," Gorman said.
Jun 2020 · 379
World Upside Down
sobroquet Jun 2020
the absence of:

idly chatting
fawning over a new born
boisterous laughter
bestowal of compliments
holding the door for someone
neighbors' casual discussions  and catching up
blithely ignoring people
people to be  annoyed at
not feeling like a germ
no six feet of separation
children cavorting
no  apprehensions
no trepidations
rags in the check-out lanes
social strictures and biological conditions, missed opportunities
Feb 2020 · 554
a box full of darkness
sobroquet Feb 2020
a box full of darkness
    ~ Mary Oliver

Someone I loved once gave me
a box full of darkness

It took me years to understand
that this too,  was a gift
The Uses of Sorrow,  In my sleep I dreamed this poem,   Mary Oliver ©
Feb 2020 · 197
Is This Poetic
sobroquet Feb 2020
Please Approximate/Designate   Race: check  all that apply (if any)
pre employment query (optional ostensibly)

🀆American Indian
🀆 White
🀆African American
🀆 Non-Hispanic Latino
🀆Ending in ease, Chinese, Japanese, Vietnamese…
🀆Filipino’s  (flips)
🀆Hindi Indian, ****, Middle Eastern, Bedouins, Persian…
🀆Hawaiian, Polynesian, Oceanian
🀆Mixed Plate
🀆Semitic (****’s and Arabs)
🀆Freakasoides  (human)
🀆Alien, (outer space kine)
🀆Tuna-neck (any variety)
🀆None of your biz wax
🀆Beats all hell outta me
🀆Cannot compute
🀆Complete Miscegenation
🀆From whence do we commence this abstruse extrapolation?   (anglo saxon)
🀆**** All

colloquial aspersions, slang, ancestry, race, anthropology, genealogy, time
Dec 2017 · 478
sobroquet Dec 2017
Transfixed by her charisma
I had become
a spellbound adorer
of a marvelous quality beyond
ordinary words of description

There are certain people
with the qualities of children
who communicate silently
but with great amplitude
magnificent angelic grace

These precocious adults
are immune to age
their maturity is of the ages
worldly chronology
is a mere circumstance

This sweet  state they’ve acquired
so tangible and palpable to the eyes
so special, ascended and rarefied
compels one to wonder and wish
and hope to become so wise

Radiant aura is a part of the gift
the brilliant glow of a spirit encased
within a host balanced by the flow
of all the love in the universe
quaking to be freed and  let go
Love is the cure

Love is the cure,
for your pain will keep giving birth to more pain
until your eyes constantly exhale love
as effortlessly as your body yields its scent.”
Jan 2017 · 440
President Liar
sobroquet Jan 2017
posturing plentitude of platitudinous petulance
the sulking face of the pride of disgrace
pretentiousness replete, retorts repeated
a compensatory litany of honesty forlorn
what is your objective, your ultimate intent to be
a divisive destroyer of truthfulness,
to be some sight to see
with all your money and ill gotten gain
you can’t buy love, you can only by fame
We have been beset upon by professional liars.

A lie is a statement that the stating party believes to be false and that is made with the intention to deceive. The practice of communicating lies is called lying, and a person who communicates a lie may be termed a liar. Lies may be employed to serve a variety of instrumental, interpersonal, or psychological functions for the individuals who use them. Generally, the term "lie" carries a negative connotation, and depending on the context a person who communicates a lie may be subject to social, legal, religious, or criminal sanctions. In certain situations, however, lying is permitted, expected, or even encouraged. Believing and acting on false information can have serious consequences. Therefore, scientists and others have attempted to develop reliable methods for distinguishing lies from true statements.
Aug 2016 · 509
Time Out of Mind
sobroquet Aug 2016
I was supine for a time with my mind resigned
avoiding entanglements in our current timeline
spontaneous  stream  of  consciousness  drown
the  place where  societies  propensities   found
the ceaseless pronouncing of all blaming  aloud
supine mind
moments of quietude
silencing questioning
sobroquet Jul 2016
a pharmaceutical usurpation
some subjunctive psychedelic
noxious decoction
of the capital  kind
wrought by unoriginality
a conjuring elixir
to ignite the  material  mind

will have you
if you don't recognize
behind appearances
is always a disguise
beyond the superficial
over what eyes can surveil  
may entitle you to what is
to be entailed

beyond the ages
beyond the sages
epochs and eras
multiplied to infinity
expecting some recourse
exponential beyond sanity
gauges of the cyclical planetary

ubiquitous aether
all pervading
all invading
revelations' recordings
substratum of
then and now
rife marshaler of how

great atman
ultimate overseer
transcending all time
cosmic conscience
consciousness sublime
beyond everything
sight unseen

reign over me
the be all and end all
of life's raisons d'être
of divine grace and mercy

by knowledge of these moods
this will allow you
ambrosia of all roads
in your journey ahead
to navigate solely
without flag or fail
through equipoise unassailed

through this your lips
can no longer trespass
over your welfare
or the welfare of any other
true liberation
from human inebriation
true love for one another

they will misunderstand you
not being like the same
eschewing commonality
for the perfected mindscape
a narrowed perspective
to focus more completely
upon the rarest of views

what can be said
of this holiest sound
that permeates all ethers
the skies and the grounds
Brahman of this plane
and all that surrounds
now perish all that confounds
soma: A plant, probably with psychedelic properties, that was prepared and used in ritual fashion to enable men to communicate with the gods.

maya: The illusions the physical world generates to ensnare our consciousness.

Yuga: in Hinduism is an epoch or era within a four age cycle. A complete Yuga starts with the Satya Yuga, via Treta Yuga and Dvapara Yuga into a Kali Yuga.

akasha: The ether; primordial substance that pervades the entire universe; the substratum of both mind and matter. All thoughts, feelings, or actions are recorded within it.

Ishwara: Personal manifestation of the supreme; the cosmic self; cosmic consciousness.

ahimsa: The doctrine of non-violence toward sentient beings.

siddhis: Powers of the soul and spirit that are the fruits of yogic disciplines.

Om is one of the most important spiritual symbols (pratima).[7][8] It refers to Atman (soul, self within) and Brahman (ultimate reality, entirety of the universe, truth, divine, supreme spirit, cosmic principles, knowledge).

Mathematics a number greater than any assignable quantity or countable number (symbol ∞)
sobroquet Jul 2016
spiritual burglary
delicious minutes
unlovely products of a puritanical conscience
alcohol  taken as a club with which to bludgeon  into a state of insensibility
words seemed to clothe genuine  honesty , they prove to be the veriest nonsense
epiphanic amorphous mind and its stream of consciousness
I imagine  a neural interface that could record dreams
not brainwaves, but images
phantasmagoric films beset by the florid mind
sorry echoes in the verbosity
Too bad love has fallen out of style
now that squares rule the world
I can't express "why" in words
so unrealistic a view of themselves and the world that they become most difficult to live with
little wonder I dwell alone
everything is really fragmentary
analyzing the analyst
tripping over my words
instantaneous administration
mesmerized by the minutiae of sensations
tangles of terminology writhe in his brain
collating and sorting
assigning vectors
in hopeful sectors
where heart and love abides
As Arjuna said to Krishna: "The mind is restless, turbulent, powerful and obstinate. I deem it as difficult to control as the wind."   Poise, balance, inner harmony, the "creation of an island that no flood can immerse" -- all this can be achieved by one who has learned to handle his impressions. Between the moment when an impression strikes and the reaction to that impression, elapses a time so short it can hardly be measured by man's ordinary awareness.
May 2016 · 428
Eat Them
sobroquet May 2016
I am one intense mo fo
I startle myself sometimes
plagued by a good memory
not even Edison's medicine could short circuit this guy
each job interview I want to reach across the desk and smash the questioner in the teeth; compliments  from yours truly, the misanthropic anti-social misfit for wasting my time.
beads and baubles, and fire water led them placidly to slaughter
people have to become somewhat desensitized to persevere and function through  the fiction
butchered battered mangled diction
fabricated histories cleansed and tidy
perennial cognitive dissonance never stymied
alloyed wide eyed innocence beaten and bullied
futile defense wounds sullied
man is *******
parasitic  cadgers
Aug 2015 · 482
sobroquet Aug 2015
your priggish mien is too obscene
your loftiness bought with a spoon
you believe you're great
but really your fate
will be to slink back inside your filigreed rooms
your palace won't talk or balk at your  whims
shelter from the minions  to be appeased therein
you'll be safely ensconced on your imaginary throne
though the "stupid" servants must remain
they'll cater to your delusions so puffed up and vain
sycophants, ****-ups, yes-men  you require
ring-kissing genuflecting servitude for the sire
still your convoluted mind is so much muck and mire
owning a computer shan't make you a writer
possessing a library won't make you brighter
having a calculator doth not make a mathematician
dearth of dialectics and paucity of vocabulary
nary ever an orator  or articulate politician
get back in your place witless purveyor of haste
your knee-**** hackneyed spiel lacks fervor and taste
those that admire you are fools for the taking
as contrived and duplicitous  as your majesty of faking
ˌlez ˌmäjəˈstā,ˌlēz,ˈmajəstē/
the insulting of a monarch or other ruler; treason.
Translations, word origin, and more definitions

This poem is more about D.Trump, et al.  than the president of  Thailand, of whom I know nothing.  But like any  erstwhile  "ruler" or despot,  I  deign him no ruler over me.  8/17/2015
Jul 2015 · 591
sobroquet Jul 2015
posturing plentitude of platitudinous petulance
the sulking face of the pride of disgrace
pretentiousness replete, retorts repeated
a compensatory litany of honesty forlorn
what is your objective, your ultimate intent to be
a divisive monster of truthfulness, to be some sight to see
with all your money and ill gotten gain
you can not  buy love, you can only by fame
American politics

22. – The histrionic weaponises their storytelling talent on the slightest whim, for blackmail is how they obtain and chaos is how they indulge. Be wary the histrionic, for they take root and disrupt venomously like a toxin.

23. – Should you see the trifecta of: confrontation, dismissiveness and attention seeking – you have yourself a histrionic. Tread on their egg shells and succumb to aggressive sensitivity, or reject them by refusing to deign acknowledgement.
Niccolo Machiavelli
Jun 2015 · 1.7k
Trump Up Hope
sobroquet Jun 2015
The louche magniloquent maladroit  malaise of the dense mayonnaise mouth of  political palaver and longueur left me with that sad sinking feeling of believing there is nothing left to live for.

Lugubriousness aside, I was nevertheless momentarily nonplussed until I recalled that a bona fide thespian was once president. And to my dismay I remembered to say: nothing in the world can bother you as much as your own mind.
trump something up invent a false accusation or excuse: they've ******* up charges against her.

Donald Trump, the consummate poser insults America.  6/16/2015
Apr 2015 · 556
Id-side Out
sobroquet Apr 2015
Does he  see that he is friend and that he is foe
The internal war of dichromatic dueling to be shown
Does he see the lioness nary weeps as she stalks the gazelle to be torn
The lioness whom by nature must  prey and whose life shall also be shorn  
We are two-legged animals with  sentience to marvel and torment
Alas we see  blood-thirsty instinct is civilization’s lament
For try as you may, regardless the prim and the proper
You’re no less a savage  as piteous as a pauper
a small bland pithy observation on the Id.
Jan 2015 · 457
See C Saw
sobroquet Jan 2015
Cosmic consciousness can consequently convey cataleptic conditions...
captured calamities constantly cascading, careening, colliding continuously...
continuity, congruity, catalysts construing clarity,  confining confusions...
concluding;  causality creatively conducts constructed concretized    concordance.
7x4=28 and 2+8=10, 1+0=0   The Zero Point Theorem

alliterative verse in stanzas of sevens
Nov 2014 · 558
Something like that
sobroquet Nov 2014
Lonely can be the plight of the English major
languishing in a lexicon of terms and forms
dreams and schemes
witticisms and imaginings
with that lushness of loquacity
whereby  sonnets and rhymes are adorned
symbols and signs are reformed
where mellifluous speech is ascribed an eloquence
transcribed and renewed
and the heralding voices of angels appear
preceded by an  aperture of magnificent hues

*I will always be in love with you
our lives are not our own
from womb to tomb
we are bound to others
past and present
and by each crime
and by every kindness
we birth our future
stream of consciousness
Nov 2014 · 505
Quest for the Best
sobroquet Nov 2014
In the quest for the best
I was put to the test
for the weary no rest
It was just like I guessed

they said I was unlikely
to amount to anything slightly
resembling something brightly
luminescent in the light

still I tried
and sometimes I lied
upon the veils I pried
apart the many vying
tiers of tired labors trying

but on the quest one must remain
in  the ongoing course to be sane
try again tomorrow, never too late
the quest for the best
the venture  not in vain
the struggle for idealistic perfection
Mar 2014 · 553
*Going to Hell
sobroquet Mar 2014
too circumspect to genuflect
a snide rebuttal of rituals
the dope on the rope says the mob has no hope
yet he feeds on the blood of heathens
stomped to death beneath the cross
convert and confess
the templars and the saracens
and all the ****** rest...

pass the plate, write it off your taxes
don't sweat the big things
the confessional swings axes
forget your past, you are made anew
in the box with Big-daddy
the room with the puny view
oh blessed forgiveness
for a  select few

*And call no man your father upon the earth,
for one is your Father, which is in heaven.
the catechism didn't catch that one
convenient truths abba
take the queers, gypsies, the disfigured and jews
for strewth!  it'll help us win WW2
fewer mouths to feed, and oh so unclean
those unconverted pagans
to the concentrated ovens unseen

This poem is a nasty, cynical and invective swipe at Catholicism.

I was raised on **** and vinegar, and remembering the sanctimony and pompous hypocrisy of evangelicals sickens me.
They (the wicked) hide in plain view.
papal infallibility indeed
utterly grotesque, and still they have the nerve to participate in
platitudes, salutations in the marketplace, the choicest pews and the inheritances of be seen/viewed as pious; a brood of vipers...
half-baked claptrap with a side of snide, and snark canape's

*Matthew 23:9
And call no man your father upon the earth,
for one is your Father, which is in heaven

Romans II
Therefore thou art inexcusable, O man, whosoever thou art that judgest: for wherein thou judgest another, thou condemnest thyself; for thou that judgest doest the same things. But we are sure that the judgment of God is according to truth against them which commit such things. And thinkest thou this, O man, that judgest them which do such things, and doest the same, that thou shalt escape the judgment of God?
Feb 2014 · 1.8k
Destination Anhedonia
sobroquet Feb 2014
I cannot recall the precise moment  of my arrival at Anhedonia
memories blindsided by a phantasmagoric comorbid collage of cant
precipitated by some newspaper reportage or holocaust story
some creepy instance that breached the precipice between simple sorrow and permanent melancholia
some fatal blow that cinched the deal
some horrid event that could not heal
some dejected disappointment that could not be resolved
some moment of unguarded clarity when integrity dissolved

nevertheless I have arrived at this mangled juncture
élan a mania not even Edison's medicine can extirpate
I was quite lighthearted before the inferno
before my brain broke
ennui now a   turgid companion
feeding on gaiety, never sated, seeking famine
esurient unrelenting usurper of  happiness
go away, leave me alone, relish some other  soul's  madness

gone is any exuberance, glee or mirth
miseries are mine, many the days since birth
better I was carried  from the womb straight to the grave
a fatuous existence, clamoring and grasping in vain
it's as if I was born into a well
but these waters they burn
the bludgeoning alcohol a liquid hell

Oh florid loquacity, you are an impostor
your verse is an adversary
a foray of jagged rhythm justifying a storm
a sordid verbosity  assuring no norm
a plaintive scratching guild of recriminative collaboration
some alliance of fulminating disquietude
the cost for the fare on the adventure to:
the stunning moment  you too will visit Anhedonia
anhedonia |ˌanhēˈdōnēə, -hi-|
inability to feel pleasure.
anhedonic |-ˈdänik| adjective
ORIGIN late 19th cent.: from French anhédonie, from Greek an- ‘without’ + hēdonē ‘pleasure.’

*The Sire Of Sorrow (Job's Sad Song

*This Must Be The Place

"You're obliged to pretend respect for people and institutions you think absurd. You live attached in a cowardly fashion to moral and social conventions you despise, condemns, and know lack of all foundation. It is that permanent contradiction between your ideas and desires and all the dead formalities and vain pretenses of your civilization which makes you sad, troubled and unbalanced. In that intolerable conflict you lose all joy of life and all feeling of personality, because at every moment they suppress and restrain and check the free play of your powers. That's the poisoned and mortal wound of the civilized world."  Octave Mirbeau
Jan 2014 · 676
Us and Them
sobroquet Jan 2014
a goose honks
an elephant trumpets
the giraffe makes nary a sound
you'd think they'd be the loudest
with long necks and pretty eyes ever so proud

the cats that purr
all covered in fur
could scratch out the eyes of dogs
whom bark and hound at night out loud
they seem to howl for nothing
but they have hearing beyond our words
conveying a  relay of messages
outside the purview of our terms

the geese in flight
in the formation of V's
call out and change places
to increase endurance and speed
a collective migration
to God's beckon and heed
a calling forthwith to some territory to breed

sparrows ever chirping
battling over scraps
resemble little children
giving each other raps
a pecking order, it seems
within all life forms
an innate alpha- type dominating  norms

and so it is
that we silly humans
aren't really that much different
than the cattle idly lowing
or the  birds who seek a more suitable ambience
instincts commanding they  seek nature's semblance
while we petty humans bicker and argue
about  which direction to go
doubting our instincts regarding whether
to proceed somewhere near  
or perchance someplace hither
sounds of seasons and migrations
Oct 2013 · 1.1k
bubble (w)rap
sobroquet Oct 2013
bubble thinking
as in a cartoon
hidden thoughts
in a public room
tacit realizations
kept from view
best unspoken
if only you knew

knickers  in a twist
bees in my bonnet
politician's hands
have blood on it
"my honorable friend"
is really a snake
can't actually say that
decorum's at stake

if we could only say
what we really think
there'd be an uproar
there'd be a stink
still some would celebrate
'finally  there's candor'
truth on the horizon
it couldn't be grander
spontaneity, impetuosity, cheeky
Oct 2013 · 992
The Cruel Poet
sobroquet Oct 2013
Poets make lousy friends because  eventually they’ll  skewer you with their poison pen; their  insulting  writ of relentless invective and opprobrious apoplectic venom. The naked foist of un-allayed aggression as art-form whereby  the vitriol of familiarity slices like a knife and digs in like a dagger.  The very nature of chumminess turns adversarial.  Like  acid in the eyes the sneering contemptible retch could cobble out words with a disgustingly exquisite though execrable precision. A quirk, an idiosyncrasy, a malevolent adherence so committed to  unmitigated truth that it is as a fist to the face,  a shocking starkness of  incivility justified by a requisite expedience hastened by the anxious need to blow one  off forthwith.  He was a veritable torrent  of abject invectives.
A cynical definition of the impertinent   misanthropic  poet and their love of harsh realism.  The sort of codswallup only a master of erudition could stomach.  Metaphoric overkill.   A portrayal of an insufferable contemptible "artist" who believes that talent is license to have bad manners.  The classic snotty prissy- pants with an inferiority complex masked by over compensation.
Oct 2013 · 827
My Lady Doctor
sobroquet Oct 2013
The most apparent thing
in her story though unpronounced
is as her life unfurled
she very rarely smiled

she possessed a reticence
a solemnity before her years
a maturation process
that involved too many tears

And so this Doctor  she became
empathic and sensitive
a healer of the lame
configured by experience
to be of assistance to the same
A fictitious poem about a  Lady Doctor  that in reality, saved my life.
sobroquet Oct 2013
I'd last about an hour as a clerk inside a store
invariably I'd shoot my mouth off
about someone's daughter dressing  like a *****
or making comments about the dreadful things  consumed
which would include a good 99% of the people in the room

I'd eventually end up getting my lights punched  out
after  *******  someone as  a fat ***  undiscerning lout
or cracking  some aside regarding what comprises that crud
and making faces of revulsion "you'd be better off eating mud"
ewwwww, you really eat that stuff?
this store should be sued for selling such bluff

children with diabetes, a third of adults obese
the courtesy clerk dies a little  for lack of surcease
line after line of vapid consumers
mindless knee-**** impetuosity belay the rumors
what's an adulterant, what's a filler?
propylene glycol alginate, yum yum
sorbitan mono sterate, shut up and eat it, its fun!
I can't even pronounce it, much less do I  care
need I be a scientist to enjoyably savor fare

Go ahead and poison yourself
the quirky clerk exclaimed
its ever so clear you're stupid and lame
stay mired in your pig-headed muck of  ignorance
you're exactly what they want
another brain dead consumer
a regular culinary savant
stuff  your face with no remorse nor heed
no worries, the clerk of little courtesy knows your need
he'll limply wheel  out your cart of miserable choices for you
and wise-crack some snarky rejoinder
then promptly get  beaten,  black and blue
The silent musings of an overly sensitive, audacious,  contemptuous, impudent puritanical bag boy.
Sep 2013 · 1.8k
Writers Can Be So Snotty
sobroquet Sep 2013
Writers can be so snotty sometimes
They think they're so clever with their rhymes
They employ obscure words
the way  armies deploy a specialized force
pedantic, pretentious, affected  on some insufferable plagiarized  course

Their wit a mired ploy to be perceived  as bright
not so much to share knowledge
but to be the one that's right
vaingloriousness cripples the honesty in script
and another puzzled reader
reads between the lines of a message adrift

people twist things to their advantage
skew the facts to fit the page
shrug it off as a necessity of the modern age
most do it, few will notice
if they do they'll say it's a mistake
deadlines howl, time grates like a rake
truth is incidental when words are fake

another American madman goes berserk with a gun on a spree
perfect timing  for the rollout of Grand Theft Auto 3
Don't worry little directors of death and mayhem
You've no culpability in the land of the free
causality is just some unprovable notion
you're safe and sound from any legal motion
exculpatory  mitigation is your right as an 'artist'  
'till the sorry day you eat the gun
the eventual price  you'll pay for your  sick wicked fun
the impudence of erudition
Aug 2013 · 922
Diatribe on War
sobroquet Aug 2013
the soul never sleeps
it see's  adolescent behavior on a big scale
once more the arms of war on sale
I detest violence vehemently
I stamp my tantrum feet as a child relentlessly
even in my dreams little respite
from the apprehensive dread of the devil's bite
severe mercy
transcendental meditation
transpersonal dissociation
more war, sordid *****
catatonic heap defaces the floor
oh remorse and entreaties
oh despair and wringing
oh come love bringing!

layers and layers of phenomena
mysteries ever abound
yet our untimely knuckles  drag the ground
incomprehensible inscrutable  invidious bile
damnable war never rests a while
I've come to expect its a natural state
will humanity always regard it as ** hum fate
I try to look away, fain smiles, reply "I'm fine"
the deception  is for them
I really want to die
No more war, no more lies
oh remorse and entreaties
oh despair and wringing
oh come love bringing!
spitting resentful vituperations of horrific  
vile violent visions and protestations
desperate praying, pleading (oh come love bringing)
sobroquet Aug 2013
Our Father
         Woe! to these  demonic determined downtrodden deceivers,
         Woe! Oh Thine merciless mendicants of misery and maleficent mendacity
         Woe! Oh common corrupt conniving cunning calumnious crusaders of crucifixion...
          scurrilous screeds scribbling sorrows
          The Lord will sharpen thou pencils...
Thou pocket protectors whilst melt into thine *******...
Thou spectacles opaque and  permanently smudged...with  other assorted
myriad miseries
       Thou  mittens will be smitten with interminable degeneracy...
       Oh languid leaders of licentious lubricious larceny..
          Oh craving calculating copious concupiscent  calumnious falsifiers...
         Oh maudlin mocking  manipulators, multitudinous marauding machinations
  Thy God is an angry God
 a vengeful God
     a jealous God

  Oh **** pots and gall!  Oh sordid ****** insalubrious denizens of depraved      degeneracy
Take heed  thou names mightn't appear in the almighty book of life when  judgement deigns an  
 opprobrious order of objurgation
                     terrible tragic tempestous tribulations  of treachery                            
  Oh  Woe! Alas!
           They are fallacious febrile fabricators, fallen , fragmented flawed fugacious furtive     falsifiers!!      
          scalawags and rapscallions..rascals of ribaldry..forlorn fallen away backslidden  recalcitrants…
            Oh misguided miserable miscreants, maladies and agitation be thy lot!

         This rant has been brought to you by:
         The Most High and Holy Priest of the Ignoble Church of Alliteration & Utter Skepticisim
To be spoken with great force and fervent  magniloquent sententious fury as from the  pulpit in a lecturers sermon.
(hell and brimstone;  pompous, sanctimoniously vain glorious, strutting and finger pointing, with frenzied gesticulations)
Jun 2013 · 1.6k
mental (st)illness
sobroquet Jun 2013
renegade memories
relentless effrontery
rogue  fractured intruders
a formulable formidable aside inside
man is a modified monkey
a jackdaw in peacock's feathers
contradictions, the multiplicity that is a unity
a patchwork of odds and ends
snips and snails
                                  dreams and delusions                                
hopes and fears
a mystifying  knot of  phantasmagoric  disquietude

agape in a stupefied bewilderment
as an autistic child swept up in minutiae
inscrutable incongruities
melange of matters beyond  explanations
maundering machinates
necessary inventions repeating and reforming
sheltering some aspect of the mind's deforming
'reaction formations' sotto voce instructs the analyst
defending emotions at the personalities bequest
    merrily merrily merrily merrily,  life is but a dream
psychotherapy is no mere scheme
partial selves
Jun 2013 · 933
the troubled reporter
sobroquet Jun 2013
An empire built on enslavement
conquering and plunder
striving to maintain order
via censorship in a  modern milieu
the irony isn't lost on me
watched the news today
a self declared expert
cited a rather lengthy inventory of  mass murders
a veritable host of troubled people
he seemed well informed
but half dead inside
as if something was  internally devouring him
an expert in stolid stage craft  
oblivious to his self inflicted harm
until he watched the playbacks that evening
pretending, posturing, play-acting, contrived concerns
now  collapsed in a fit on the floor
groveling pitiful fragment
vomiting  bourbon tears
out of sight, above detection
by them
the watchers
tomorrow, a different city
another "shooting spree"
another interview
another barren bereft onslaught of absurd rhetorical questions
hand ringing, and staged pandering consolations
another pallid parroting reporter who thanks you for "tuning in."
"next up, Sports!"
Jun 2013 · 1.0k
angst of the edge
sobroquet Jun 2013
Some poets   make lousy friends
they'll eventually skewer you with their poison pen
their  insulting  writ of relentless nasty venom
like some  twisted performance-art-form
naked foist of un-allayed aggression
the dilettante's vitriol of familiarity slices like a knife
the very nature of chumminess segues into   adversity
a quirk, an idiosyncrasy, a malevolent adherence
so affixed are poets to the unmitigated truth that it is as a fist to the face
a  horrendous starkness of  civility
justified by a requisite needy urgency of  expedience
contemptuousness brought on  by an  anxious desire to blow you off -ASAP
they'll turn on you like a feral cat
Jun 2013 · 1.2k
something for everyone
sobroquet Jun 2013
there's this book, a manual, a guide for shrinks
ostensibly it aids them in assessing how one thinks
to my mind it contains something for everyone
to be human is to invariably become undone

degrees of  normality, degrees of insane
eventually too much knowledge
makes the struggle an exercise in vain
some gentle ones give up and relinquish trying
coping is groping,  thrashing,  lying

to thine own self be true
unto this missive troubles you'll rue
total honesty  impossible to know
minuscule fleeting fractile glimpses of the show
'do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth
and nothing but the truth'?
I can only promise to try
social strictures require we lie

I will not swear to something I cannot believe
I'm rarely really certain of any given thing;  my doubts know no reprieve
When Krishna revealed to Arjuna his entire magnificence
Arjuna recoiled in fear to behold such terrible opulence
likewise my eyes have been opened to some totality
so I view the truth as a comfortable logical fallacy
therein is the problem the dilemma defined
to tell the 'whole truth' I would most certainly lose my mind

Great wits are sure to madness near allied, and thin partitions do their bounds divide.”  John Dryden
May 2013 · 1.0k
Bad Television
sobroquet May 2013
once I beat a television to death
it was a very bad television, always showing me bad things
almost as if it had some proclivity for badness
but how can an inanimate thing have an inclination
surely what it showed to me was of my persuasion

So soon after I'd thrown it out
I sat around fulminating in something of a pout
at first I missed the sensation, the noise and the thrill
and observed  I'd become quite inured to the ****
and little by little as such thoughts soon languished
it occurred to me also such thoughts would be vanquished

So after a spell, I obtained another  set
and soon I  was  reminded, it wasn't finished with me yet
oh the gore, the blood, oh the sinister grime
oh you and me what a ghastly good time
and then and there I again realized
the images I'm viewing  are  choices of mine

How quickly we forget
memories of convenience
blaming the other guy
scapegoating reason
nobody forces you to watch the modern megalith
and once again I beat another television to death
May 2013 · 1.8k
phenomenal you
sobroquet May 2013
Jupiter and the moon take most blows for us
a very nice  arrangement for blithering piles of pus
intelligent design or some grand coincidence
the phenomena that is life is no mere incident

64 hexagrams comprise  the I Ching
64 nucleotides in a DNA  string
anthropic  anthropomorphic antagonists
dripping and  drooling  with dread
that (what if)  God caused the thoughts that reside in our heads
the phenomena that is life is beyond your stead

Big bang
hot thing
can't explain
why the rain
brings gain
to the blamed and the sane

God isn't real, that's their deal
religion's exist   because you feel
pithy platforms of persistent intrusions
pulpits of platitudes feeding delusions
the phenomena that is life is no mere illusion

Church day, fey day
leave your questions at the door
harken hear the story
of God in all its glory
the grand and the gory
the mysterious phenomena that is life
Genetic Code

I Ching       ䷇䷄䷂䷀䷊䷌䷼䷶䷩

According to physics, space inside our universe is multidimensional.
There are 64 main dimensions and each dimension is further divided into many sub-dimensions. Since the inhabitants of earth can perceive three dimensions, their senses have no access to many other realms of universal reality.

It is said that through the ancient process of yoga (specifically kriya yoga) one can obtain access to many other dimensions. When a yogi obtains access to other dimensions, he can perform unusual activities.

A yogi can achieve 8 (eight) mystical perfections. Each perfection gives him access to 8 (eight) additional dimensions. Thus by achieving all eight perfections, a yogi obtains access to all the 64 (8x8) dimensions making his body unaffected by space time bound physical laws.  
the octave and well tempered system (Bach) solfege
Sri Gautama Buddha's Noble 8-fold path

Comparative Cosmology, Akif Manaf

The term 64-bit is a descriptor given to a generation of computers in which 64-bit processors are the norm. 64 bits is a word size that defines certain classes of computer architecture, buses, memory and CPUs, and by extension the software that runs on them. 64-bit CPUs have existed in supercomputers since the 1970s
64 squares to the chessboard
The '64 thousand dollar question' saying.
The planet Jupiter has 64 moons
May 2013 · 3.3k
a male's misgivings
sobroquet May 2013
I adore women
I refuse to apologize for it
I like the way their voices squeak in the upper registers
I like the fashions
I like the makeup
I like the aromas

Not the silly runway catwalk Biz that relegates them as awkward mannequins
adorns them in  the impractical
and cloaks them in the  absurd overreaching  of  the tired  clamoring for something
new and unique
that which exploits  their  lithesome anorexic perplexing job requirement

I like the way they can shape shift, alter and assume new identities
I like the fact that some have mood swings and ***
I marvel that they can give birth
I like being aware that their  'water-weight' make's  them grumpy
I'm astonished that they innately ovulate with  the cycles of the moon
and that the Huntress Diana inherently  acquired her namesake

Doesn't bother me a bit that "it's a lady's prerogative to be late"
or that opening a door for them is considered 'sexist'
I was raised with a sister and a mother
with lace and dainty  frilly things
I caused them a lot of aggravation and consternation
I think they enjoyed it - nonetheless
I refuse to apologize for it
May 2013 · 1.2k
4,5,6,7,8, Cynics countdown
sobroquet May 2013
Often the news gives me the blues
I really ought to choose
to simply refuse
I mean really, what will I lose

no that isn't it
truth is stranger than fiction
more like a fascination with the surreal
or a blinded  self-affliction with the scroungy real deal

Talking heads  that speak for work
punctuate sentences with erratic  head jerks
nobody normal talks that way, they ask  rhetorical questions
when the answer's are known, they’re killing time
“rephrase the question, run the clock  out
a commercial will spare us the embarrassment of doubt.”

Take’s a special person to face each new day
with zillions of prying eyes  hanging on every word you say
the mendicant voyeurs  of utter destruction’s  charming new  day
the slashing  machete melt down of the abject speakers foray
"Oh say, can you see  by the dawns early light"
What's become of your people  and their obsession with fright
desensitization  is paramount  to  achieve  an abeyance of light

Frankenfoods, and "side affects" hideous monsters in the making
high resolution mayhem require victims for the taking
awaking half-dead like Dracula’s  each dusk
they'll find a cure, there's another vaccine, there’s always dumb luck
maybe you won't be the sucker that makes that dreadful scene
bludgeon your mind with a another  faker, a different fresh  news team
fobbing  your leery eyes you ponder “they can’t  possibly all be  the same!”
different day, different month, different  year, same game
May 2013 · 1.1k
Sunday non sequitur
sobroquet May 2013
Religious zeal and explosive prowess make incendiary  bedfellows
searing calculating moralism where all fall short  and deserve to suffer
self righteous corrupted calumny  put forth in a sally of sectarian     selectivity  
your ilk is heading for Hell and I'm (already there) not

fanatical  zealots marginalize intellectuals  with their mythical mire of mucked up  claptrap and copious lack of a priori specificity
a glorified preposterous plethora of pompous  pontificating platitudes
the sins of others they deplore but of themselves they don't keep score
Sunday's best is Sunday's worst

you sanctimonious ******* just can't leave people alone
who elected you to point fingers anyway
Jesus was born in a barn to an unmarried woman
And your mommy got shtuped when you were conceived too
you don't walk on water you insolent impertinent  fool

the brain police can't wait for Sunday's
oh the satisfaction of a mutual admiration society
knee-**** hackneyed pavlovian dog speak
Is anything  anymore real if you jump around and shout about it
recipients of adulates get accustomed to sycophants
fawning complacent obsequious kiss ***** and Sunday ****-ups
pass the plate
Apr 2013 · 2.4k
Abbreviated Life
sobroquet Apr 2013
She'll sleep tight in a parallel universe tonight
my deeply serious rainbow girl astral projects
communes with Shiva and champions chakras
she has the recipe for what passes as illumined
her ignorance of current events is  appalling
but that chosen ignorance is staid and unperturbed

I grumble and complain, I use the news like a ******
I put the pieces together, pattern the puzzle-
I see the BIG picture…I cut my life short
possessing a keen memory is like the proverbial millstone
the information is  the lake
rainbow girl is contemptuous of my self inflicted plight

we realize its a matter of time before disparate likes divide
I am fire and she is water, I the destroyer, she the preserver
the passion can be complimentary for just so long
Like the lady bard said:

You read those books where luxury
Comes as a guest to take a slave
Books where artists in noble poverty
Go like virgins to the grave  (Joni)

She'll tolerate my  confabulated artistry a spell
I can see she's a caterwauling  banshee of protestation in the waiting
Her mellifluous  quietude, equanimity  and perfect  poise can only last so long
Before my brash stripped down vituperative  diatribe is as acid in the eyes
Then be off to resume  her prior harmonic convergence of  heart  stuff
as I  with my artistic bent, abbreviate my life

*  The Boho Dance
The Greatest in the Kingdom
(Mark 9:33-37; Luke 9:46-50)

At the same time came the disciples unto Jesus, saying, Who is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven? And Jesus called a little child unto him, and set him in the midst of them, And said, Verily I say unto you, Except ye be converted, and become as little children, ye shall not enter into the kingdom of heaven. Whosoever therefore shall humble himself as this little child, the same is greatest in the kingdom of heaven. And whoso shall receive one such little child in my name receiveth me. But whoso shall offend one of these little ones which believe in me, it were better for him that a millstone were hanged about his neck, and that he were drowned in the depth of the sea.
Apr 2013 · 1.2k
The Page
sobroquet Apr 2013
The page asked and wanted to know
where are my screeds, my verses of to and fro?
The page is not insistent, it doesn't  make demands
The blankness merely beckons you a clever use of  hands

The page ask's are you bashful, timid, scared, or irresolute?
Does my vast emptiness request your feelings be bared?
Oh that's it, isn't it, the heavy hand of truth is what I seek
Such a criterion for a page long is not for  the meek

You can be honest,  its all right with me
Hell I'm not perfect, I'm the remnant of a tree
You can  wax sonnets, or you can  wrap fish,
A blank page is a delight, the poet's ultimate wish

But when rhyming's  a necessity the words take different shape
They conform to the metered scheme of a phonetic gait
Then sound becomes  as important as the meaning of a word
And cadence takes a beating and flies off  like a bird

by: The reluctant rhyming of a laconic lexicon
Apr 2013 · 2.5k
Rush et al.
sobroquet Apr 2013
So you think you are a master of techniques of persuasion?
You shallow pips-squeak, mediocrity is your mastery
the obsequious hoi polloi that surround you are the pitiable averageness of conciliation
Sophistry and subterfuge are your game of compromised facts
syllogistic  arithmetic conceptualizing  doesn't make anything so
your addition is flawed by your bungled bombast of banality and guile
fortunately for you, your crowd will never study logic
fortunately for you semi-literacy is  de rigueur

You pompous swollen grandiose mass of hyperbolic gas
Fear is what you offer, lies are what you sell
your rhetorical flourish is as the stench of a waste  dump
fetid, corpulent, fallow and febrile
half-truths, innuendos, ambiguities, conjecture and asinine aspersions comprise your specious fare,
fostering rumours,  manipulating facts, you are the purported Biblical brood of vipers so extensively reviled against
Your relevancy is attributable to the dull stupidity so profusely prevalent today
Your "success" is the stuff of taint and treachery
You'll probably choke to death on a stuck piece of poorly masticated  flesh
so appropriate  and  befitting the demise of a professional liar
Apr 2013 · 1.5k
sobroquet Apr 2013
I asked you not to phone
I asked you to forget
grievous to hear a voice so beset
by  lamenting  longing  for me

The pills don't really help much
melancholy as intransigent  as the scorching sun
They call it therapy resistant
a homeostasis of neurotic persistence

I wish I could be like you
I really do
so normal, so gay, so ebullient
so eager, so  joyful, so light,
so God-awful ready to meet each new day

I can only harm myself dear
that's why we're apart
I asked you not to phone
I asked you to forget

the suffering of seriousness
realism of immutable truths
the pinching pliers of  precision
pathos of colliding decisions

I asked you to forget
sobroquet Apr 2013
together we sit and scan through pages
searching for knowledge of savants and sages
apart by wires and  spaces deemed cyber
together in some places besotted by  desires

for that which you seek and that which you share
your hasty interests  may lead you to stare
into the abyss of the nets'  unending
the maelstroms vortex you'll soon be winding

going ye here and going ye there
hopeful your meanderings
shall leave you fair
for within some sites there's the inveigle snare
ultimately constructed to leave you bare

go wittingly into the all- electric  fray
some sensitive toes you'll invariably  belay
don't fret over words harmlessly mislaid
to err is only human, short-circuits  allayed
Apr 2013 · 1.4k
popular chat
sobroquet Apr 2013
this morning I awoke to find little lettered squares imprinted across the side of my face,
           then didst I realize, that cyber space had finally done its number on me
                        slither slather blither blather slobbering  cyber chopper
              knee-**** hackneyed pavlovian dog speak of impetuous  heartlessness
             stereotyping  label blasting  categorizing  pigeon-holing  generalizing
      multi tasking bifurcating bloviating palaver,  ever clingy maudlin  inflamed impassioned souls
         trolling   the myriad  disparate windows looking for some misbegotten stimulus  
so invested in their hatred and fear that peace is the most threatening thing they can imagine   ------      and me?
the sneering cynical maladroit among the masses of averageness and mediocrity...
Apr 2013 · 1.8k
not funny
sobroquet Apr 2013
I'm as clever as a bag of wet cats when it comes to jokes
        dumb  as a stump
thick as a brick, dense as a sack of hammers
      accurate as a spastic
           as sharp as a **** heap
                    as refined as an oil spill
  elegant as a heap of a sot passed out spread-eagle  in some gutter
Apr 2013 · 757
bleakly remembering
sobroquet Apr 2013
The fallow flags lull in a languid sway at half-staff
flaccid reminders for those who quickly forget
limp in the wind as faint as that day
commemoration of anniversaries' memorization's
plaintive anguished lamentations jeering at
the stuffy affected and tired testimonials
torpid, dense and  listless as  the President's third rehearsed
recited repeated languorous speech of the day

— The End —