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Shiv Pratap Pal May 2019
Don't show me your Money
Don't show your Bank Balance

Don't show me your Estate
Don't show me your Power

Sorry, with all your Fortunes
You cannot Purchase Me

Because, Only items are on Sale
My body is an Item – "I Accept"

But my Soul is Not an Item
And is Not available for Sale
Everything Is Not For Sale, Hence Can't Be Purchased, Though We Live In Inside A Large Market
Robin Carretti Aug 2018
So nice to be praised like a
state honor
Giving your heart to a donor

"Broadcasting romance forecasting"

The brain the heart is the
everlasting mind control
"Outlasting getting the taste
of food* the best treatment to
the soul well behaved to
Her voice plays the webcasting"

   EvEr
__LaSTing
Life of miracles

The strong will heart heroes
No time for fasting
  The contrasting the colors
Neverlasting beats
the story knows to heat
Pieces build the right parts

Minds of selfish needs
pulled together wishful
thinking
Bring me the seven wonders
of the fish family Trump towers

Like estate will who will?
Open book in progress
the leader
But reading behind the lines
Do we trust the believer
Book of love can be
a game of mystery meeting
the deceiver

Never wanting this to end
Around the bend
"Who is on first"
Or the oldest Estate someone
leaves a comment at last

Saying just stay no rest
Like the wary
Estate schedule feels
like a tightrope
We cannot cope became
an estate neverending line
Bird wire you're always
*Welcome

Rotary phones
The pain excruciating tones
Just tweet cat got your tongue
The will hat off yellow canary
How your pride had you
The sensitive side your tooth hurt
Still flying Angelic fairy dessert


The Messenger
Kick in the pants
unknown passenger
Signed and delivered
Cruel documents the
hell wheel so fevered
Emotions to remember
the utmost condition
Like something so new
never touched

But something was there
and someone
else felt quite the experience
The feelings were overplayed
But the lover stayed eyes
Into her movie screen
King Estate pages from
her book unusual scene
Words she spoke delicately
pronounced but rushed

Not an ounce of gold
coming from the weight
of his belt like he vanished
Estate the beauty of the tree
everlasting from the root
Of his mind the greed got evil
Transcending "God" sending
We are the world blessings

The estate sale there were rules
Raised hands commending
Dinning like the Royal Queen
In her divine "Estate chair" hum
The whole entire spectrum
Predisposition in relation
Sum of all fears
His dark shirt with
suspender pants
That old Estate set two minds  
were perfectly set was not
a twinset or any bet

The everlasting kissing the
Sunset spiritual picnic
She's his peach everlasting
sunrises tic tac or nick nacks
And Plum's bunch of Irises
Those whispered promises
Estate lovebirds cage-free
Everlasting conclusion Oh! me
Eyes got blurry chipped white
picket fence
Last will everlasting dance
The state of mind ski *****

Her envelope got licked to elope
So tethered everlasting pearls
of Grandmas strings
Feeling her fingers
Rapunzel hair whispers the
harp tranquil bright tealight
Nine lives of a cat nap
Twin set laptop Estate house flip

Robin redbreast everlasting
Estate she sings South trip
She wakes up from her dream
She got the "Estate" in her hands
Everlasting Holylands
Everlasting estate like a mind leaving things precious behind. whats in our wills confusion and feeling being pulled like pearl string necklace. What else to face gave you the chills have an Estate cup of my coffee its the best brew my watchdog is watching
Ashley Chapman Mar 2018
Everyday caught
In the labyrinth of mind,
I am,
Where dreams,
And desires
And lust,
From nothing
Conspire something.

Destination: Canada Water.
The next station is Surrey Quays.
Doors will open on the right-hand side.
Exit here for Goldsmith's College.

In the cerebellum
Fragments flash cerebrum bright:
Wheels in tunnels burn,
A neural screech amplified deep,
As waves of electrons churn,
And in multiple places keep.

This stop:
- My birth -
Is in Westminster!

It’s time:

Do you love me?
DO YOU LOVE ME?
          Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

In the space-time continuum,
The labyrinth is forever,
Within a fourth dimension.

It’s time …

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

Lost in the labyrinth: a journey to an exit.
The Overground train pulls!
And from floor to ceiling,
Between vertical orange pins,
A medley of languid listless limbs lulls,
       Seated hips,
       Angled legs,
       Dangling feet,
And neck-less heads,
Lost, ghoul-like,
The disconcerted move doggedly on,
Everywhere somewhere; but forever nowhere
Through London's hills and bogs.

From  STOP to STOP,
In the labyrinthine network,
In tubes splayed out on cubes,
Of bright brushed viscose comfort,
Overhead, the ads exhort:

       Top Up Your Soul,
       Fast Forward Your Escape
And
       uSwipe
       uSwitch
       uSave

Like these,
A hundred escalating messages,
Each more insistent than the last,
Compel, enough to distract,
So man’s desire enslaves his heart.

Its time…

         You love, right?
YOU LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
ASH FREE

How? Why?
Has bacterial sludge,
Built these edifices of glass and steel.
This labyrinthian cage,
Whose walls race up at the speed of light,
While the inner commuter flame gutters,
Everywher, in multiverses,
Supernovas explode in showers.
And for a moment, in the moment, The Overground chromatic glows.

New Cross Gate, Canada Water, Southwark.

Lit and digital and LCD:
        
  ALL CHANGE, PLEASE.
  THIS TRAIN TERMINATES HERE

A few automated steps, and:
       Southwark,
       Green Park,
       Then Baker Street,
Appear, fade and disappear.

Now walking down Belsize Road,
On the evening of the
Super Gibbous Moon,
As it rises high over the Ziggurat dimensions of the Alexandra Estate,
And all is blood orange at dusk,
As I, a slinking silhouette,
Make for the event horizon of home,
For surely given, and taken,
A few more bends, another turn,

It’s time, again.

         Love, right?
         LOVE, RIGHT?
    Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

DO-MI-NA-TION
DEATH FREE
DO-MI-NA-TION
FREE ME.

To the event horizon of consciousness,
To that black hole at the core.
In death's star-like eye,
Embrace, pass through,
(Fear not),
On, through the labyrinth northward,
Entering and exiting,
We go awhile, a little longer.

Stars, my Stars,
Again, it's time.

You love me, right?
YOU LOVE ME, RIGHT?
Yes, No, Ohhh (the audience).

SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
DEATH FREE.
LOVE!
BE,
WINGS FREE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL

One more stop:

       New Bond Street.

GET BEYOND
DESIRE,
BEYOND THE LABYRINTHEAN LIE,
CONSUMER, DIE!
BE
MATERIAL FREE.

Last stop:

       No-name, this one:

BE:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL.

SAY IT:

     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
     DEATH FREE.
     LOVE!
     BE,
     WINGS FREE:
    
     WE ARE:
     SU-PER-NA-TU-RAL
Dedicated to Steven Hawking, RIP, this poem is designed to be read to a live audience. To this effect, it was performed at the Hundred Year Gallery in Hoxton, London, and has been altered considerably ahead of being performed at The Mediterranean Cafe, Berwick Street, in Soho, London. All welcome, March 28th at 7pm.
Ween will mend inertia
with a flair, only a care or attribute
in conglomeration can reticulate their spin
and thus their ardor abound
in meadow by a brook then
will allude a castle if white sand
will morph butter and
may implore horizon  
to only stake catalog
with green arbors there
yet magnitude of the nation
largely reactionary in latitude again.
The Hadid
in weekend
plans this
plane that'll
easily shake
takeoff as
they'll break
the news
and flash
zesty Yolanda
that only
her celebs
were finally
gathered in
the Paparazzi
will trump
West Hollywood.
Daughters of the river
Terry Collett May 2016
It started out
as a cheap hotel

in the wrong part of town,
then became

a *******
(run by dames

on hard times),
then it was closed down

by the cops
as a house of ill-repute,

then it became run down
in a bright side of town,

then estate agents
bought it up

and did it up
and someone

bought it
(or mortgaged it),

and the estate agent guy
said, it was once owned

by an upmarket couple
to the new buyers,

(******* liars).
PROPERTY NOT WHAT IT SEEMS WHEN YOU BUY.
SJ Sullivan Jan 2016
I will, someday, be the first in line to the opening of your estate sale.
I will buy all of your furniture to keep this part of you alive.
We keep remnants and pieces, as we scatter  memories like your charred remains across a place you once knew.

I want to love the carousel figurine
you forgot you once owned and sing the sweet melodies of the music box you once fell asleep too each night.
For the depth of something once loved and now lost, is impenetrable to pain.

As all things are made, and all things are to be loved and lost or forgotten.
I want to love all the things once loved by others.
Titled by my poetry professor.
M Tamura Nov 2015
How can I expect thoughtfulness from one who doesn't feel ?
I cringe at your definition of friendship
I know you don't know how to be
While you trample on sacred ground
with a head full of high I's
I see you've never known love
I see the writing on the wall
a play not written by you
Repeater of those vanished voices
Ashes at what once was alive
Resentment passes landing on your doorstep
Careful trotting on rotten floor boards
To lose yourself in dream killing doors
Excuses will not fill the void
Stumble around in a cloud
Clenched teeth
Hurting
Hoping in mirrors and ghosts for salvation
You're living a lie... time is tick ...ticking by
Cristina Relange Aug 2014
I have emotions
that are like newspapers that
read themselves.

I go for days at a time
trapped in the want ads.

I feel as if I am an ad
for the sale of a haunted house:
18 rooms
$37,000
I’m yours
ghosts and all.
- Richard Brautigan
Not an original poem. Work written by Richard Brautigan.
Liz May 2014
The silver
Birch trees flaunt
Their glitz as I 
Stroll through 
Deep pearl 
And sand
Pebbles

Gorgeous green
Mansions swirl
Around and
Blackbirds pick
Seeds from 
The posy bunches
And sparkled
Grass.

I pass a 
Pink butterfly house 
With large Daisy 
Heads protruding from
The diamond fencing.

The next house, a rather
Pretentious 'Cordillera',
Sounds like a disease.
A farm gate shields 
4 by 4s and I'm 
Now passing the weird
House with the crocodile
And gorilla and 
Coloured Cow 
And dog statues.

Coming to the
End of the lane
Of silver I pass
'Lane end'
Cottage with its viney
Stature and freshly 
Manicured front lawn. 
High cube hedges forming 
A pathway to the porch.

In The final 
Mansion if
Nosy passers
Have a peek you
Can see a 
Swimming pool,
Fluffy Towels draped over
The Silver pool chairs.

Flitting to 
The end of the 
Dappled birches,
Approaches
A wide country green
Covered in bunting
Bathed in buttercups.

— The End —