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Nat Lipstadt Dec 2013
there is not a sexist bone in my body.
not a one.

there is not a bone
in my body entire,
that it's marrow,
but just tinged,
more singed,
nay, more, more,
burnt and burning
with
****** desire.


****** desire is a concerto
of the
five sense organs:
vision, hearing, smell, taste, and touch.

my body performs Halley's Fifth.
my woman listens carefully.
THE FIFTH
C O N C E R T O
"She had never heard that symphony before, but she knew that it was written by Richard Halley. She recognized the violence and the magnificent intensity. She recognize the style of the theme; it was a clear, complex melody--at a time when no one wrote melody any longer."
- Atlas Shrugged, Part I, Chapter I
_______________________________
Written on the bus home, just now, that being sort of an apology.
________________________________
First of a series of three; look for 2 x 3, and, 3 x 3.
izi Jul 2020
A long day,
A winding valley,
Between two ancient cliffs.
A song of a sparrow breathes through the air.

A lone traveler,
Along the dusty road,
Formed by man's sweat, blood, and bone.
Living on until it fades.

Nothing in this lonely place,
Will survive the plague of time.
For in each long lost memory,
Everything will die.

The sparrow song stops, stilled by death,
The winding valley loses its shape.
The two towering peaks tumble into weeds,
And what is becomes what was.
Body is thy art for centuries.
Body is thy art from form and bone, to flesh and blood.
Body is thy art for the private genitals of ****** function.
Body is thy art to own a kiss of each lip.
Body is thy art...
Each connecting bone, head to toe...body is thy art.
Our vocal cords that tighten as we speak...body is thy art.
Body is thy art because of it's natural form unknown to human yet known to soul as our eyes meet each stranger.
Body is thy art when we touch and connect.
We are art.
Sexuality is not an embarrassment, because body is thy art that we share everywhere.
Every ****** made from touch and *******, body is thy art throughout all humanity.
avoid military service
due to a bone spur
for which there is no evidence

have managed to tell
an average of 16.5 lies per day
since elected into office

slander possible opponents
and everybody else who
has a different opinion

divide their country
at a time when unity
were most desirable

sets police on peaceful protesters
just so they can pose for a photo-op
before a church flaunting a bible

but only for self-aggrandizement
    
     no prayer
     no empathy
for those who suffer most
    the victims of racist violence
    the thousands of deaths from the pandemic
        caused by his delayed actions
    the 20 millions of unemployed

people there are who
are simply too incompetent
to lead a country
Michael R Burch Mar 2020
I Have a Yong Suster
(anonymous Medieval English riddle-poem, circa 1430)
translation by Michael R. Burch

I have a young sister
Far beyond the sea;
Many are the keepsakes
That she sent me.

She sent me the cherry
Without any stone;
And also the dove
Without any bone.

She sent me the briar
Without any skin;
She bade me love my lover
Without longing.

How should any cherry
Be without a stone?
And how could any dove
Be without a bone?

How should any briar
Be without a skin?
And how could I love my lover
Without longing?

When the cherry was a flower,
Then it had no stone;
When the dove was an egg,
Then it had no bone.

When the briar was unborn,
Then it had no skin;
And when a maiden has her mate,
She is without longing!

This poem was sung in the movie "Animal House" by a college troubadour played by Stephen Bishop. A toga-clad John Belushi destroyed his guitar! Keywords/Tags: riddle, medieval, Middle English, young, sister, cherry, stone, dove, bone
Dennis Hernandez Mar 2020
Here we are again

The war it’s always been

And though we’ve always tried

Though we’ve always sinned

We’ll come back alive.

We’ll be back to win.



Well here we are again

A battle for pride

Through which

No one is proud

Nor the victor

Victorious,

But held with self-doubt.



And here we are again

The war it’ll always be

I’m getting tired now

Flesh and bone you’ll see

Oh so tired now

Don’t be thin as me.



Cause here we are again

The day that wouldn’t end

Said ‘You’ll come back to life’

‘You’ll come back as kin.’
Serendipity Feb 2020
When you learn
that we are nothing more
than silk wrapped bone
and mortality,
then peace will flood you
and the gates to existence
will open.
A sack of flesh and bone,
Bloodred muscle wrapped in skin,
Given a brain that will **** it over,
So many times that it just wants to stop.
Stop breathing.
Stop existing.
Stop thinking.
It was told that it was one-of-a-kind.
It was told it was loved.
But it was lied to, so many times,
And by so many people.
It’s tired of this life,
Tired of the lies.
Tired of feeling unwanted.
Tired of feeling unloved.
Sometimes this is all I feel like...
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