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No man
Is an
Nor is
Is any
Nor child
Or dead
Ing in
No time
From the
Apes of
And chimps
Of Past
We All
String with
Er One
Als Hu-
Mans Fun
Gi Plants
Al too
Comes to
All life
Earth and
En and
IAL in-
Gentx and
And non
E Bus
Big Blue
A Rest
Ed Dev
Job came
Out the
Whale a
Not A
Cheap Queen
es Too
We all
Come from
The same
Threads that
Bind us
No Matt
Er what
We Bee
Live we
And can
Feel our
Queen if
We list
To Her
To Be
It hurts
To know
You are
One with
Them Cry
Als Them
The Mo
Stars have
North All
Ways lead
Home to
Step in
Line or
Fall back
Cause this
Pig can
Talk and
We all
Ed now
Ylzm Apr 20
In the days of Noah,
none ate meat and all spoke the same tongue;
and neither race nor religion exists, nor divides;
Yet blood shed in wickedness,
flowed as rivers watered the land.

In the days of Noah,
there was no writing, for there was no need:
for promise made was promise kept;
Yet lies filled the land,
the more insidious for the purer the tongue was.

In the days of Noah,
each man was a city, living to see his seventh generation,
and thought accursed if lived not past his 300th birthday;
Yet age led not to wisdom but only foolish old men,
and thus ordained not to live past 120 years.

In the days of Noah,
the clime was pleasant with not a rainbow in the skies,
and feasting and merrymaking alfresco all day and all night was life;
Yet **** and pillage were common,
for might was right, and the sword, the judge.

In the days of Noah,
knowledge and technologies were of the gods,
revealed to man by the sons of the gods;
Yet giants and mutants, of beast and man,
roamed and devastated the earth, the seas and the skies.

In the days of Noah
naming creates, even as animals were named,
and things unimaginable today were named into existence;
Yet the gift was abused,
and man wanted to make a name for himself.

And the days of Noah shall be here again.
We may soon speak, in appearance, a common tongue,
helped by the written word and Alexa.
And man is already making a name for himself:
His abilities are never more justified and demonstrated;
And if all on Earth are agreed,
there is nothing on earth and in the heavens that is beyond him.
His zenith comes and the Day of the Son of Man is soon to be!

So shall it be then. Amen and Amen.
an ark
of Noah
would disembody
a silvery
horse with
seraphim whether
res publica
rained on
earth with
quiescent nomads
and to
cloud their
creation in
planet of
thieves with
periods of
sporadic sea
Planer Thieves  by  Dan Krokos a movie
There is a barber shop built on the ashes of Babylon,
where men lose their ******* with shame that skip to the fourth kid,

There once was place where Samson's hairstyle was a treasure map.
A place where lost man travel
Where David found no stone
where Noah built an Ark but storm never came.

When we pass through that place even the stars we use for direction disappear.
Stephen Edwardes Sep 2018
Noah's Yellow Arches

Once upon a time when people lived long
Men walked with god but something went wrong
God spoke to Noah upset by the violence
Both men were solemn consumed by a silence

At the end of the almighty's speech
Noah imagined the heights he could reach
His family were chosen to start a clean slate
A flood would be coming from the heavens of hate

His sons were engaged to build a boat
A vessel unimagined by the average bloke
They sawed through timber from dawn till it dusked
A death warrant signed, they kept it all hushed

They gathered a brace of every fair beast
And harvested grain for the meagrest feast
They bound it in cypress and raised a roof
The Ark set sail in search of the truth

For forty long nights and for forty dark days
Rain fell from the sky in tumultuous ways
The deserts were soaked, valleys were drowned
All others perished and Noah was crowned

He walked to the deck saw doves in the sky
A wry sense of irony crept from his eye
A feeling rose up in this most pious a man
Why was he chosen to manage this plan?

He sat sea sick and contemplative
The new most important original native
As his pride bubbled his confidence grew
He thought himself king, with ideas a new

Why have i toiled in the mud and the rain
Working for a god who is both fickle and vain
He tells me he loves me then leaves us in drought
My children catch fevers my crops never sprout

He spoke to his keeper an old Mr Macdonald
he'd served him for years with his trusty son Ronald
when we make land our new life will be sweet
because I'm in charge now and were gonna eat

no more will we plan for a balanced tomorrow
we'll gorge ourselves on all we can swallow
these beasts we hold captive will never be free
we'll farm them so quickly to stupidity

Start with the chickens they've had too much space
pack them in cages then hormonally lace
imagine twenty thousand in one small field
we'll fatten our bellies on the omelettes they yield

of course some will perish before they can breed
so grind those ones back into chicken feed
don't worry about size or when you should slaughter
to make up the difference we'll pump em with water

Now as you all know my favourite is beef
the succulent flavour of steak through the teeth
for this will require the clearing of trees
'the end of all forests' I'll sign the decrees

But Noah what about the bats and the frogs
get to work Ronald and chop me some logs
by the way boss we'll need more grain
the cattle eat half its hard to sustain

The chemicals used might pollute not please
and there's always the chance of mad cow disease
Dont worry my boys i've thought all this through
on both bats and frogs there's little to chew

the grass we'll genetically alter its code
keep all the seeds so no one should know
the illness will be named variently
call it something fun like human cjd

enough of your moaning i want this thing branded
not talking pokers, I want yellow arches clown handed
I want plastic wrapped around toys in a box
I want diabetes disguised as a healthy detox

I don't care for soil and **** the oceans
not even bothered about factory explosions
as long as the workers are fat or obese
their children are stupid and easy to fleece

Noah stood defiant as the Ark hit the shore
he clenched at his chest his left arm was sore
Ronald enquired about a subsidiary
Noah's heart exploded he died in the sea
Ronald opened his doors in 1940.
b Aug 2018
it should have been
41 degrees today.
the hottest day of summer.
i prepared.
i wore shorts to work.

it rained like
noah's flood.
i didnt see it coming
but i heard the rumbles
like drums from hell.

i wrote words for jane
and i never thought
id ever show her.

i read her two poems
and she liked the one
that wasnt about her
much more.

it should have been
41 degrees today.
Illya Oz May 2018
You belong with the stars in the sky,
But I wouldn't really want that,
Because then we would have to say goodbye.

So you'll just have to say on the ground with me,
And all we can do is think about,
The wonderful star you could be.

You would fill space with an amazing hue,
The colour of your eyes,
That Celeste Velato blue.

You would brighen the sky around you,
And when darkness would try take over,
I know you would always push through.

You would have a gravity so strong,
You would pull everyone towards you,
In a way that could never be wrong.

Your hydrogen and helium and nuclear fusion,
You would burn so hot,
Though it would be no illusion.

You would have a heart bigger then the sun,
So caring and so wise,
And loved by everyone.

You were meant to be a star,
So don't you ever forget,
Because to me you already are.
I wrote this for one of my amazing friends on their birthday.
though avast percentage
     of Stone Temple Pilots, she push peep pulls
     viz vernacular speaking population
     to most pious take as gospel

     every word in religious tomes
     their collective soul asylum polestar,
     and doth decree important doctrines
     with especial accord

equal insignificance applied toward
    Judeo-Christian holidays across the board
thus easter tis no exception to the golden rule,
     where santa claus reached an a chord

follow auspicious signs alit in the night sky
     shaped like a drinking gourd
perhaps amassing plentiful harvests
     upon hamlets strewn

     across ******* populated Earth
     asper cornucopia exhibited secret hoard
sharing  plentiful Horn
     (and Hard art learned lesson)
     to stave off barren ness, ignored

going forward seeding nascent
     March Madness with help from Lord
     and Tailor as midwife hoot
     tended Ville Nova moored

by Wildcat fanatics, who unbelievably  
     espied heavens cleft asunder
     and golden rays poured
while collective spectators loudly screamed

     akin to the soundgarden
     of ferocious cats roared
witnessed history scored
earning players knighted
     with Excalibur sword
thence entire team handed
     Taj Mahal shaped award

which aforementioned *** hide lacks, cuz zit
     happens tubby April Fool's joke
thus above iterated verses somehow
     needs just a little bit of relevance to yoke

thine admitted ambivalent reaction to sports,
     yea aye pay figurative ****
hen to Rabbinic, generic fanatic primal
     tribal village people clan destine woke

and swinging focus of this poem
     back toward Religious perp ported berth
when (sans antiquity) trumpet signaled
     thus, any superstitions blew away dearth

when distant shofar heard
     in every home and hearth
anticipating arrival of the Easter Bunny,    
     who brings mirth

and hop poly distributes sweet treats,
     which children as grown adults,
     no matter necessity for teeth to be removed
     the sugary over indulgence wool worth
today thee American Dental Association chastises candy
     manufacturers bandying more weight
gaining deadly, debauched, and decadent, trait
then adultery verboten fruit to sate
hash-tagged reprobate.
add mitt ting enjoyment sans the lithe hot feline Taylor Swift - I might be the only baby boomer mwm who admires this talented singer/song writer, yet owns NO aspirations beyond composing poems or prose.

(A questionable attempt to stitch – analogous to knot sew swift a tailor, this scribe sought to create a poet from her song titles spanning the letter “A” to the letter “H”).

Despite never setting eyes (AND MOST Definitely NOT PAWS), this grateful dead corpse of a skeleton (essentially lovely bare bones), when alive I found one gal powerhouse (asper the title of this informal homage; genuinely fashioned,

entirely dutifully composed, benevolently addressed to an attraction, confident, enduring, graceful, immensely known, mainly over quibbles sans unsustained wrenched, yanked, aborted connections ending glumly, inviting kindling material of quests souring until wonderful yin/yang anchors coy effeminate gal.

Before the advent vis a vis crafting this literary challenge incorporating a poetic endeavor predicated on prolific tunes comprising audiophile of Taylor Swift, (and thus a prescript interim), a whim took hold to string her partial song playlist (quite substantial even up to BUT NOT including the letter “I”).

This scribe dabbled, hocked, and limned what evolved into a semi satisfactory effort, this articulate, copacetic, enigmatic, generic, ironic, kinetic, magnetic, opportunistic, quixotic, scholastic, ultrademocratic, wholistic yikyak paddy whack give this bard a bon bon.

Adieu admit to elaborating, and second guessing to put down pontoon literary bridges in an effort to connect a straight forward itemized list of tune titles.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Thee Mademoiselle found,
or made a place in the world for yourself
aching like a boy out in left field
pining to catch that high fly
there there ain't nothing 'bout you,

(nor Brooks and Dunn) I can attest
even if hypothetically,
we spent eons at an all night diner
where culinary staff knew thee all too well
and perhaps all you wanted
(shared with Michelle Branch)

perhaps positing the rhetorical question –
am I ready for love?
With an American boy
or a ***** best buddy

re: best friend forever with an American girl
if someone got cross, tis beneficial
(in this one republic) to apologize
regardless, whom ye choose as a confidante,

the following refrain plays in your mind
baby don't you break my heart slow
(at least according to Vonda Shepard)
memories no doubt arise,

when thee hapt to be a baby girl
thoughts unspool back to December
beautiful eyes peered at a fractured reflection
before the love story
would begin again,

while ebbing, and flowing with my baby
recalling Bette David eye
(taking visual delight sans world tour live)
reminding self how better off
the choice made tis much better than revenge

but umpteen times bother I will
asper boys and love
combustible mix – nonetheless
always reminding myself to breathe
deep, cuz being breathless

likened to a taste of death,
(I admit better than Ezra)
learning how to act points back
asper being brought up that way
lessons oft learned getting bustedng

oh...and by the way can I go with you?
Can you feel the love tonight?
Discern ache kin to sand castles crumbling?
such granular, or solid state matter
doth forced to change

attested to by chaperone dads,
who dressed as Santa Claus invoked
that Christmas must be something more
especially, Christmases,
when you were mine

ah...closest to a cowboy
as “sigh” ever got
or tasting Gunstock rattlesnake pulverized,
yet countenance goose
(and found you under the care of Chet Atkins
at the make believe medical center)
shivered flesh against cold as you
though desiring thee to come back...he here
no doubt prone

to announce crazier requests asked
even crazier
(as demonstrated
by flash mob generated
by Hannah Montana, one live wire)

if able to glean my sentiments...
cross my heart
aware as an adult feeling the life source of daddy
or mommy, while hinting
with a stone temple piloted cold stare

double dare you to move
(or switch foot), one to another
das feet – planted within pitch dark blue Tennessee
dwelling with thoughts
of ma dear Digdan
or writing an imaginary letter starting...”dear John”

ample melancholy maudlin material
to complete bind a diary of me
yes concert cavorting circumstances
avoidable, though didn't they
make chase like butterflies,
and don't they hate me for loving you?

so please don't tell me you want to,
when I don't want to anymore
argh, yet impossibly unshakable
the recurring thought don't you
act indiscriminately

as when down came the rain,
washed the spy dir out
following suit (wet)
drenching drama queen
with chin amen along pearl harbor drive
(in conjunction with alan jackson)

presaging Jiving drops of Jupiter
(train chugging, clacking, clattering
railing gestalt of alien nation)
and all of a sudden like how odd though...

thinking about eighth grade graduate,
when lifetime seemed enchanted
now everything has changed
eyes open (“hunger games”)
maketh me – fall back on you
instant messaging you –
fall into me fearless,

though only fifteen
and how against pyrotechnics,
you find your way back home
on the fourth of July

perhaps led by a zeppelin sized firefly
ah, I ask myself who is the foolish one?
Me for you forever & always (a platinum edition)
for girl at home (donned in deluxe edition)

going bananas
in reference to Amazing Gracie
swaggering, and immune to gun powder & lead,
(whose leading lady Miranda Lambert)
whatsapp penned left her looking haunted
heartbreaker – (my words – like Tom Petty)

about her, but unsure if our thoughts aligned
anyway, here you go again (Dolly Parton)
a hero heroine
so...I clamor to yell out “hey soul sister”
and hey Stephen

along the boulevard of broken dreams,
this ribbon highway don't care
about trumpeting his lies
nor desecrating holy ground
honey baby, yes ye in the mom jeans,

I feel hopelessly devoted to you
(as doth Olivia Newton)
instinctively keen how to save a life
bobbing buoyantly amidst the fray. calculating polymath
no win tent to kindle,
or spark hay8 full ire rate wrath

juiced whiling away
the early evening hour hath
horror hived this february
twenty second, nah scared to take a bath.

The Process (is a Process All Its Own)
eye up ply applies
to brain storming with zest to whit
barn storming across das plains of google
to pitchfork embers tuff flickr tinder lee

with smart poetic dip pose zit
tool loom hen ate interior darkness
where lurks the monstrous akin to Perdido
otherwise known as perdition,

especially Native American
linkedin as The Buffalo Hunter
pseudonym adopted by Ballard and Sandrine,
The Green Woman, whose Side predicted to win

Pork Pie Hat predicated on FengShui yang and yin
force fields property aligned creates A Special Place
predominantly filled with A Dark Matter
only known (bee you wick), i.e.,The Skylark

and of course Poe's Children, totaling 5 Stories
helpful to down with a chaser
viz - The Little Blue Book Of Rose Stories
Ideally red (red) in The Night Room,

where an unsuspected parvenu
absconded with Lost Boy, Lost Girl
housing Magic Terror, but interestingly
one must ask - Isn't It Romantic?

Via the perspective Looking Back
feigning to be combination of Mr. X, and/or
and Mrs. God innocent looking people
yet, the progenitors of The Hellfire Club
burnt offerings indistinguishable from Blue Rose

fragrance or melancholy Ghosts
resembling trumpeting Floating Dragon
invoking grabbing by The Throat sensation
Where spirits flit to and fro

throughout neighborhood Houses Without Doors
and games without frontiers
this...a millennial Mystery
unlike the generic Ghost Story,

the main anti protagonist and/or
pro antagonist, nonetheless named Koko
who calls The Juniper Tree home
especially eerie Under Venus

provoking Wild Animals
to run berserk at lightspeed
en masse Black Sabbath
bestirs cries and whispers
proto, pseudo psychedelic

quint essence ova thermocouple
holo graphic images hypnotizing vista as Shadowland
explicit formula generating happy interacial Marriages
nah...ha - ah, the joe cuz on ewe
especially, If You Could See Me Now!
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