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#chop
~for Wendy ~ with my almost two years old poetry advisor, who loves her Sunday rituals, an extra sabbath, of waffles and Shrek, kid’s gym and artistic endeavors, cozying up with Nana and siblings in a big old bed, snacking and chewing on the good silk sheets as always, she and and I go off to have an intellectual conversation, letting the older ones to do kid stuff, while we converse and debate topics of nature vs. nurture, the weather vs. climate change, and the future of everything, unbeknownst to everyone else which is greater, love or honor, she inquires, sensing my thoughts are preoccupied with matters of honor... as she strokes my itchy, scratchy day old face, insuring her having my full attention, while taking advantage of my loving weakness grandpa: honor over everything my opening gambit, while she coyly harrumphs in response, one can love without reason for such are our natural souls programmed, but honor needs concentration and contemplation, and if done right, then love will surely follow! She-Woman: ah ha! once again you sidle up to nurture, cause love is too inexplicable, old man, old man, did I not love you before any season of reason crossed my brow, and my vocabulary consisted of just more, no, toy and hungry what did I know of Aristotle, logic, codes of conduct, the definition of honor yet abstract, while love is nature’s illogical construct, coming first without restrictions, while honor is malleable and property of the eye of the beholder grandpa: wise beyond your tears, you are, and unquestionably correct, but while coming first, love cannot last, until cover-coated with honor, for honor gives us the because, and locks down the why, honor gives the insight, the rationale, the rules of how to say yes and no, when love is tendered and an R.S.V.P. is requested She-Woman: absent experience, for now will concede, but be warned this is not over, fo you have not brought me a definition of what truly honor be grandpa: honor is the housing of love, and though you granted me your favor, comes the day that you will demand proofs that what was unearthed & unearned is now earned, a course in credit, a baccalaureate in life’s lanes, when to heed them, when to crossover, when to say I do, I do, no to someone else alone, and yes to your honorable self She-Woman: adult double speak, I suspect, and you will rue the day when forced to concede, with a wrenched ‘child, I do not know,’ meanwhile change my diaper after I karate chop your knee Grandpa: yes child, but know,  two of your requests/notifications are honorable acts and/know real love can be ONLY be exchanged tween honorable humans
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Mar 3, 2019
Mar 3, 2019 at 10:05 AM UTC
Honor vs. Love: trading karate chop love poems (a love poem)
~for Wendy ~ with my almost two years old poetry advisor, who loves her Sunday rituals, an extra sabbath, of waffles and Shrek, kid’s gym and artistic endeavors, cozying up with Nana and siblings in a big old bed, snacking and chewing on the good silk sheets as always, she and and I go off to have an intellectual conversation, letting the older ones to do kid stuff, while we converse and debate topics of nature vs. nurture, the weather vs. climate change, and the future of everything, unbeknownst to everyone else which is greater, love or honor, she inquires, sensing my thoughts are preoccupied with matters of honor... as she strokes my itchy, scratchy day old face, insuring her having my full attention, while taking advantage of my loving weakness grandpa: honor over everything my opening gambit, while she coyly harrumphs in response, one can love without reason for such are our natural souls programmed, but honor needs concentration and contemplation, and if done right, then love will surely follow! She-Woman: ah ha! once again you sidle up to nurture, cause love is too inexplicable, old man, old man, did I not love you before any season of reason crossed my brow, and my vocabulary consisted of just more, no, toy and hungry what did I know of Aristotle, logic, codes of conduct, the definition of honor yet abstract, while love is nature’s illogical construct, coming first without restrictions, while honor is malleable and property of the eye of the beholder grandpa: wise beyond your tears, you are, and unquestionably correct, but while coming first, love cannot last, until cover-coated with honor, for honor gives us the because, and locks down the why, honor gives the insight, the rationale, the rules of how to say yes and no, when love is tendered and an R.S.V.P. is requested She-Woman: absent experience, for now will concede, but be warned this is not over, fo you have not brought me a definition of what truly honor be grandpa: honor is the housing of love, and though you granted me your favor, comes the day that you will demand proofs that what was unearthed & unearned is now earned, a course in credit, a baccalaureate in life’s lanes, when to heed them, when to crossover, when to say I do, I do, no to someone else alone, and yes to your honorable self She-Woman: adult double speak, I suspect, and you will rue the day when forced to concede, with a wrenched ‘child, I do not know,’ meanwhile change my diaper after I karate chop your knee Grandpa: yes child, but know,  two of your requests/notifications are honorable acts and/know real love can be ONLY be exchanged tween honorable humans
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64
I’m a cannibal. We’ll let that sink in. It takes moment to digest that thought. Sorry I have terrible humor, I know. Why and who? Mostly myself, I cannibalize me, To rearrange my understanding of self. It doesn’t survive upon contact you see. So I slice and dice, chop and whip. Until nothing irritates and the rot sets in. Then I have to cut out the bad parts And try to put myself back together again. So you see it’s really not easy, Being a cannibal. But **** I bet the final product will be delicious.
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Oct 24, 2018
Oct 24, 2018 at 1:25 AM UTC
Cannibal
Yellow congregation Discusses their front lines Lawn mower arrives
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Jan 20, 2016
Jan 20, 2016 at 10:39 AM UTC
Spring Chop
Little Bow Peep Told everyone she had lost her Sheep And didnt know where to "Find them" She had slaughtered them All of them for Chops & Kebab meat And sold the wool to china, Little Bow Peep Told no one of the secret She so secretly did keep, To why the  sheep had gone missing Killing any and all from finding. She was a Chick With A **** And had a fetish obsession of the sheep, She was meant to looking after. Peep Merrily nailed each and Everyone of them, Not Once Not Twice More like half a dozen times, Sometimes cuddled up with Her **** still inside them. So when eating Chops Or Kebeb With chips, if tasting a little salty, Then Little Bow Peep Had slept with that sheep And ********** inside them.
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Oct 5, 2014
Oct 5, 2014 at 12:56 PM UTC
Killer Rhyme No5
bring me to your thoughts let me know all of your thoughts I want to know everything bring me the idea of this deficit let me take away the pain by cutting off your vein bring me the disaster knowing all the answers come down and cut me off my guard endless fountains endless mountains filled with pain and disaster you wanted me to be possessed possessed by your inner demons turn me into you slave the discount
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Jun 23, 2014
Jun 23, 2014 at 8:34 PM UTC
the disaster and the discount