(no braggadocio! modest rodomontade scored triumphantly!)

Unbeknownst to me, a generic human ape,
an unpleasant surprise
     swished down like an ominous cape
awaited and near smothered me drape

ping that October morning, where no escape
presaged via frisky black cats
     chasing shadows on fire escape
crossed my path after walking under a ladder
     where ice hoar ravens didst jape!
Wheels of injustice applied via de
fender, sans Johnny Cochran forced ee
year splitting amidst general public fee
ver rush to absorb disbelief shell shock hee
ret tickle non guilty conviction from key

ping popular culture spell bountious lee
really exhausted viz three ring me
dee ya circus (June 1994 – October 1995) pre
vail ling obvious evidence irrelevant, thus re
deeming O.J. Simpson to strut guilt free

from emotionally charged trial. I awoke
as usual and performed customary bespoke
oblations vis a vis half-hour plus choke
hold asphyxiation meditation, okey doke
shuteye discipline followed daily to evoke

calm, cool, and collected trance zen dental
bliss before motoring on with gist of gentle
lee presented vignette, though me mental
state did not shift gears into a rental

modus operandi, but only partially new
trawl eyed , cuz the then fiancé (one mew
zing chic chick i.e. Abby Robin Zison), Jew
dish us lee spent the night
     at our transitional grew

some domicile) immediately nsync to report do
tuff lee (at the Goddard School)
     raced like a Chew
Bach ha's Dickensian protagonist back up Badoo
two flights of stairs. Like eponymous Aloo

men hum mushing spry feline woman out bitta bing
bitta bang (clanging like hells bells) ding  
donging, she immediately flew back fling
all four feet eleven of her harried style jing

ling in an agitated state she set foot to go bob  
bing out the door intent
   (as iterated) driving to her job,
and in combination pantomime
   and words crisis did lob

asper like a bot to me,
     she attempted to communicate rob
bing her unsuspecting fount of thespianism
   tub air gritty modicum
   of rationale from putrid slob

name of Leslie (the lunatic landlady)
     thine paramour conveyed clarity mouth ajar
after surmising urgent news
     required automatic action to un bar
driveway, where I parked car,

the previous night surreptitiously venal far
from rational rapscallion most definitely har
bored an axe to grind, and locked Ford Escort par
tush shinned within chain linked fence - war

fore suggestion got made
     (from future bride)
to confront landlady,
     and sternly insist and mildly chide
corrective action taken,

     yet this storyteller defied
said suggestion, and brainstormed
    with betrothed asthma guide
averting compromising neither of our pride

and prejudice respective, sans stevedore
managers would not let us slide
gnome hatter, how we could not
     escape deprecation
     no matter how much we tried.

Prior to heading off to bed
     the prior night, I deigned
to express likelihood to landlord/owner
     thyself and pseudo spouse needed to find

another place to live. The major reasons
for vacating premises? Her grind
ding cigarette no ifs, ands
     or buts smoking mind
less ness ranked (on par
     with chimney didst wind

     burning wood smoke
at full blast) as primary source
     of revulsion did provoke,
and aye came across with homespun folksy
sensitive mien, as a simple country bloke
I expressed honest sentiment at being
extremely averse (where hacking awoke

     the future wife)
     from second hand carcinogen(s)  
     extant within cancer sticks. Asphyxiation deafen
knit lee found me choking half to death even
putting towel under the door, or

     additionally keeping
     bedroom window wide open,
the malodorous nicotine wisps ambled - pen
     knit trait ting, wending, curly cued,
     and filtered thru fabric with mischievous yen.

No matter, the twisting tendrils of tobacco found
their way into ole factory nasal cavity ground
zero, sans health conscious holistic being hound
did, what constituted one deranged dame
     the SPCA ought to impound.

Another factor fueling foul accommodations yin
     wanna know offset fine tuned win
Dixie yang,
     which odoriferous torture constituted

     nauseating odor of cat urine
and litter boxes smelt worse than sin,
cuz, they never got cleaned of feline fecal matter
     near visible as a unsightly dangerous shark fin.

Upon summoning effort
     and energy to communicate
bona fide concerns, she responded
     and didst denigrate

with contempt fiery madness irate
psychotic malicious venomous vile
     as dead body snatcher mate
and then insidious wheels

     of malice with tongue flames
crackling, popping, and snapping
     from out her reptilian pate
     began to turn more sharply

     amidst ghoulish clatter and path
     of destruction on her tabula rosa slate
with more danger than
     along axis of evil tete a tete.

She madly paced back and forth
     across maligned envisioned aisle
a small patch of uncluttered space in main foyer
     witnessed seething rage wherein

     carpeted floor boards,
     an imperfect circle shod feet didst dial
no doubt internally
     plotting vengeful strategic guile.

Castigations, fulminations, and insinuations ague
gulled out her mouth
     noxious fumes left exit pronto flew
ludicrous lacerations
     from fiery dragon lady did spew

while yours truly soundly slept
     and without incident dreamt edenic view
she unwittingly trappings to annihilate  Xandu
some personal vendetta. After I washed, dressed as a zoo

keeper headed downstairs,
     the malicious scheme she did hatch
out back became a living reality,
     an empty house doors hooked with latch

(Samir, the other occupant) left hours earlier no match
to tangle with wicked witch absented premises natch
eerily echoed every footstep trod one patch,
after another
     patent leather slippers paused to scratch

an niche 'pon second landing
     (to confirm a strong hunch)
that nary a soul heard nor seen,
     probably out to lunch,

no raving ranting banshee
     demented drunk as punch
No zombie like entity appeared from the “DO
NOT DISTURB” sign affixed
     outside sleeping area, aye did scrunch

brow to compress insight,
     where mangy catatonic felines
     shared coterie holograms suddenly jumped out
     from virtual reality cat n' app cradle
     swishing tails shorn like cat o' nines

mewing obscenities (within/ out
     computer screen, ominous signs,
sans phantasmagoric phantom) lurking
     like a lunatic swing from vines.

Nonetheless, I continued to tread
     down dimly lit said
lower level with glimmer
     of optimism to bolster lead

din heavy mood crossing fingers
     spare set of skeleton keys
     (with cross bones and skull head)
nearly always left tantalizingly
     dangling in unused door latch, twas cred

double wish, thus spirit within me soared
and just as quickly sank to abyss of psyche moored
     sensation felt like poured molten lava oh Lord
Guess what? No such luck. Oh,
     she definitely would not a ford

carelessness, and took precautions okay
hiding temptation to make a getaway
Well…I stepped outside
     to assess situation. Blimey cray
zee myopic eyes forced to glean deadbolt
     found gate shut tight, thence a feeble bray

escaped parched lips, when lo...vix
teased and cross myopic eyes,
     no doubt played tricks
holy glory. Ah, a handsaw
     carelessly got left and altered mix
matched tool chest in plain view, a sudden fix

but prior to acting on the plan, quite do able
I made a few telephone calls
     first telephonically cable
hub rate, and firstly contacted employer

     told tale more unbelievable than a fable
thence to local police
     in order to file complaint against
     goon bonkers malicious monstrous label

quick as the brown fox
     jumps over the lazy dog
escape attempted perilous hell grog
ghee nightmare commenced after placing

     phone back on cradle, whence nog
     'gin set fingers to twitch busily
     sawing into one steel link,
    (an effort aye did slog)

thru to break at one linkedin steel segment
barricading trusty Ford Escort
     so this fellow could hightail with pent
up adrenaline out of nefarious
     steely web and test a mint...,

     whence surge of adrenaline
coursed from head to toe,
     my heart pounded not so gent
lee ready to burst from chest,
     and palms perspired profusely
with unexpected accursed of evil incarnate
     vis a vis hell bent agent

provocateur ready to pounce
     and deliver violent
retribution, which blows
     from blunt heavy object,
   would invariably render me unconscious
   courtesy of cerebral rent.

For better than worse, a kind face
of destiny smiled from countenance grace
sing unseen karma
     smiled smooth as sateen or lace
upon my essence as shaking hands

     furiosly moved saw handle
     back and forth dozens of times until…
     now fickle finger of fate
     got me ought ta this place!
Dear inner writer,

The voices bouncing around my head are making me dizzy and the thought of doing anything except be idle makes me nauseous. I throw these words onto the paper, but do I even know what they really mean? What they’re really saying? Worn out and overused, I collapse in on myself.

People praise my scattered thoughts as though something new has been forged from the hellish flames of my fervent mind, yet I don’t see it. They say, “wow, that was beautiful,” but did they really feel that in their heart’s? A world without writing is a dark desolate nothingness and I can’t go back.

This earth is plagued with the unsightly forces of humanity. Stained by deceit and judgement, I look for an escape and if my only weapon to wield is my ballpoint sword and blank white shield, then I will be ready for battle.

“Everything carries me to you” - Pablo Neruda

I resented writing for a while and I griped about its effect. Why did it always make me feel the way I did? Why did it make me feel at all? I knew it was a part of me but I didn’t let myself understand that until further down the evermore complicated road.

Writing is the release valve on a pressurized pump. With each new word and phrase, the force dwindles and there is nothing more relieving. Like lifting the earth off from Atlas’ shoulders.

As I feel the sanity and solidity of this world slip through my fingers, I can’t seem to get a grip. Sometimes things are beyond what I can comprehend and there is no way around that.

“Raise your words, not voice. It is the rain that grows flowers, not the thunder” - Rumi

It carries an overwhelming affect and my heart can’t help, but overflow onto the paper. With the ink as my blood it splatters down on the page in sporadic fits of inspiration, like a mad man I scribble until the last “i’s” are dotted and the “t’s” are adequately crossed. One heavy sigh concludes the session and I know there is more to come soon.

The ability to create marks a triumph over all the evidence to the contrary. To live and to breathe is a foot all in itself. The odds are stacked against each and every one of us and existing is the greatest gift the universe could give us, so why not rejoice with the splendor of the written word and express ourselves in every way possible?

Never show your cards. The combinations you’ve been dealt are your own and to open yourself up fully is to reveal your hand. Writing allows me to shade my cards, but illuminate just enough to alleviate the ambient questions

“A heart’s a heavy burden” - Calcifer

It scares me, the intensity of my words and of the feelings within. There is no greater power than in emotion. Able to tear apart and build back up, its two-faced nature terrifies me, yet still I feel.

No two pieces of writing are the same and like snowflakes they fall all over the world, giving different meaning to each person who sees them.

“I closed my mouth and spoke to you in a hundred silent ways” - Rumi

I implore that you keep writing. I beg that you continue to bleed black and blue blood onto the pages of the world and prove to the society we inhabit that we are a force to be reckoned with and that no one and nothing will tear down our fortitude.

I enter into a new chapter of my life and I see that we have become one and the same, finally. I resented you for years, but now I embrace you with open arms and the wingspan of a soaring eagle.

“Happiness can only exist in acceptance” - George Orwell

You are me and I am you. Till the end of time we will be a team and I will never forget you. I will never leave you.

Never forsake yourself my friend and never doubt your ability. There is a world of wonder and understanding and I know you can do it. You will always write and you will always flourish. Nothing can tear you apart and nothing can pull you down. The universe is at your fingertips.

“Do not go gentle into that good night” - Dylan Thomas


Maybe it is not like how I think.
Maybe it is all just for the time being.
Maybe it is what I am meant for.
Maybe it is what I am destined to be.
Maybe it is all just in my head.
Maybe it is all unreal.
Maybe there's something more to it.
Maybe this is not the end.
Maybe there's still hope at the other side.
Maybe this is all just the beginning.
I wish maybe.
To the love I once knew-

Tell me what it was like when we first met
Did your pulse quicken like mine?
Did your stomach sicken like mine?
Was I your one and only from the get-go?
Or was I the placeholder till you knew what you wanted so?
Did you look into my broken soul and see my undying love for you?
Did that scare you?
Did I make you feel good?
Did I do enough when I could?
Was I what you wanted me to be?
When you think of your future is it me that you see?
Did you use my body for your pleasure?
Was I just a way for your self worth to be measured?
Did you even love me at all?
Were you afraid if you left that I'd fall?
Fall from what? From grace, from sanity, from logic?
The warfare, my love, is simply psychologic
I'm nothing but caring and I've never left you
But I understand this predicament, do whatever you want to do
Just know that the moment you get on that plane
When you come home, it won't be the same,
Because, see, you chose her despite my insecurity
And with a feeble rhetoric professed your maturity
But I know this won't bode well
She'll make my life a living Hell
Because I've never been enough to keep anyone around
I'm always the dirt between your nails or beneath your feet like the ground
You can do what you want and my presence will be amorphous
I'll adapt around you and still you'll ignore this
I'm the sun on your face and the air you breathe deeply
I'm the girl of your dreams and the one you love briefly
Girls rest their hand on the same armrest.
Does a girl hope/want
her hand may grace his,
so it may be held?

Guys go on the scary rides with her.
Do guys hope/want
to sit beside her terror,
so she may be comforted?

Girls forget their jacket on a cold night.
Do girls hope/want
that the gentleman beside them
will offer them his warmth?

Guys act differently around guys than girls.
Do guys hope/want
to establish dominance,
so they may win her love?

Why do we do these crazy things?
Do others think it’s weird too?

What other things, unlisted, do we do for this same reason?
Is it necessary?

Do we not have the words to speak,
or are we just afraid?

Actions speak louder than words,
but why are we confused with the definitions?

Aren’t words meant to clarify and explain,
to ensure the confusion is eliminated?

Meanwhile, we hope, we want, but we don’t speak.
Are our actions, or lack thereof, saying what we mean?

If anybody has any insight, please share, lol.
she uses smallish words
medium, i guess
she wears converse
and she’s nice, i guess
she’s funny
and she cares
she’s stylish,

and i love her
but she doesn’t know
to what extent
i guess
fika 5d
How i dream to be surrounded
by the mist of mystery
I lost myself
After I lost you
Why didn't I see
I was letting your eyes
Make me as we speak

Your words, comments,
Even the little gestures
Crowned me
Victory or defeat

I lost you
Now I only see my feet
They go nowhere
My head is empty
With despair

Loves empty canvass
Draws no more potions
There needs to be evasive action
To take hold of my endings

Scrap my tongue
Scatter the ashes across this
Plain white backdrop
Make scrimmages from
Self doubt, self pity,
And disappointment

There's no point in running
I'm always on empty

I often hear whispers
They say sit
Feel what she's done
What's left
Now binge on forgiveness

You'll find your soul
Underneath it
The flame will spark again
The dead will speak in color
Another shoulder will appear
To hold all of your secrets

The moon is full tonight
Maybe this light
This dark bright ancestral light
Will be my path

I have no earth to grab on to
I might as well die
Float up to the sky
Ask the gods
To bring me another muse
Someone just as lovely as you

I'll stay lost forever
If that's what it takes
To build a garden
Inside of these empty gates
Michael 5d
I am more than the imperfections of my flesh.
More than an unorganized stack of papers riddled with typos.
More than a DVR for tragedy.
More than a play button for anxiety.

I am more the sum of all my parts.
More than the equations of my mind.
More than clicks on a keyboard.
More than words on a screen.

I am less than you.
Less than the seconds that you waste.
Less than the words that you are pantomiming.
Less than the poems that you've read.

But we are equals behind our eyes.
A thing which you must have
A thing which you can have for $0
But, to have it,
You must have lots of benign words
to all
And, put away all malice words
A Tongue of Flowers
Charge yourself with all the philanthropy
Never wait someone to have it first
YOU take it first and use it with all
No exceptions
Because if you never did
No one will
This talks about being kind to all people around you even if they aren't kind with you. Being kind to people is very simple; it can be by a word only. Can you imagine! This poem also tells: don't wait for people to be kind and loving so you can be kind. Instead, you start it; because if you didn't start it, people will stay being unkind to each other and you'll be the same; as a result, kindness won't be there.
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